Alienus Tempus - Intro & Chp 1 (draft)

Alienus Tempus - Intro

It’s said that when you are in the throes of mental illness, when you are truly crazy, that you are unaware of what the reality of the situation is. That you are totally immersed in and absorbed by irrationality and delusion. So that must indeed settle it then. I am not crazy. Somewhat confused, possibly. It can be difficult to distinguish between the two worlds each of us inhabit. A KOINOS KOSMOS and an IDIOS KOSMOS, the shared reality and a personal reality. There are those that think that when the IDIOS KOSMOS tips the scale then you are crazy. I would like to say that is a possibility, but would also argue that if your KOINOS KOSMOS is not in alignment with your IDIOS KOSMOS then you simply may not be balanced. You are missing part of the picture. Too much of one or the other is either neurotic or psychotic, depending upon which. I have a healthy dose of IDIOS KOSMOS and should be balanced, but I am not. There has been an assault on my faculties and for some reason, I am not in control as I used to be. There is Another… another me, that seeks to restore balance, but in doing so, has shaken the very fabric of my reality, and I would argue, the KOINOS KOSMOS, as well. Except that it is  hidden, but in place. Occult. Waiting for the opportunity when its’ interest would be best served. This potent anamnestic force, similar to the one which one science fiction writer referred to as VALIS, must have considered June 23, 2002 such an opportunity.   

 Chp 1 - Moby and Dick/ 6-23-2002

Twigs, leaves and branches blanketing the road from the recent storm snapped and popped beneath the tires of my '90 maroon Daytona as we crept along Mulberry street. Tammy and I had left our daughter, Sarah, at my mother's house in Dexter, Missouri the night before. We had just watched a couple movies sixty miles north, in our home town, Cape Girardeau, Missouri.

We had watched Spiderman II together, and I stayed for "Minority Report". Tammy said she’d pick me up after the movie and left. She won't watch, read, or discuss anything that pertains to Tom Cruise, even Steven Spielberg. I guess you could say it's my fault. After the movies, I took Tammy to her mother’s house in Clarkton, and I went riding around in Gideon, only three miles away. All three towns, with the exception of Cape, are in the Bootheel of Missouri. Although I grew up in Gideon I didn’t go there often, and when I did, it was only for a short cruise which often left me reminiscing about the many houses we had lived in during the eleven years we had lived there. The few friends I could claim had abandoned the town long before.

My mother, Alice, bingo raging in her blood, left Sarah with my sisters, Whitney and Cheyenne. Sarah was riding a purple tricycle with pink tassles on the end of the handlebars. I rolled the window down to wave at her and as we pulled up to 827 Mulberry Street she squealed and peddled next to my driver’s side window. After I left the Daytona I squatted and she jumped into my arms. I held her tightly and stood up with her. “Hey, baby girl. I missed you so much”.

Whitney, Cheyenne, and some blond girl with shorts too high were talking to my brothers, Jason and Justin, and two other bare chested boys. They were all huddled near a yard swing next to the old white, decrepit bungalow.

"Hey, Bub," Whitney said. "Have you met our friend? His name is Moby Dix, but we call him Moby Dick, you know, like the book?"

Well, call me Ishmael, I thought, while trying to suppress a grin. I gave a brusque nod to Moby Dick. He may have been white, but I didn't see what was so great about him. Did they not think I’ve heard that type of umm… innuendo before? If they were my daughters. Well, I didn't want to get into it at that moment.

After a few minutes of small talk, Sarah, Tammy and I left for home. Driving down broken branch road, I thought, "Moby Dick, huh?" In my minds ear I began to hear a song that used to play on the radio all the time. But I hadn’t heard it in over two years. What was it called? I had the tune, but no words to match it with.

After turning left onto Business 25 I glanced at Tammy, "Do you care if I turn the radio on?"

"Sure, go ahead.”

I pushed the faded black knob, last tuned to a preset station.  I leaned back in the seat then immediately sat up straight and looked at Tammy. The song that would not go away in my mind was actually playing. There was a male and female vocalist and they were singing about going down to the “east side”?

"Tammy," I said. "What's the name of the group that plays this song?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure, but I think it's that guy Moby. He's bald and does a lot of electronic and dance music."

Naturally intuitive, sometimes to my chagrin, I immediately saw a picture coalescing. It was as if a few vital pieces of a puzzle had just been “intelligently” maneuvered into place.

As there is not much to do in the Bootheel, except to see our family we hardly went south of Cape. Even rarer was it for me to go to Gideon, and when I did, hardly ever I spoke to anyone. Earlier that day, while I was riding around Gideon, I did see someone I knew. I’ve seen him walk in the same area before and never stopped but this time I did. I talked to Philip for a few minutes and then left. The topic of conversation has been lost to me for years.

And then there was the meeting with Whitney’s friend, Moby Dick.

Then there was the precognitive event with the song on the radio. I discovered later that day that the song I heard, first in my minds ear and then tuned into when I turned the radio on, was “South Side” by the artist known as Moby.

The second movie I had watched alone was called "Minority Report", based on a short story by the late science fiction writer, Philip K Dick. How could I not connect these events? See how it works? It was significant that I spoke with Philip earlier that day, and that we met “Moby Dick”, and then the precognitive sense about the song by Moby. Moby was the tie that bound Philip and Dick. And it was “confirmed” by my hearing “South Side” in my mind then turning the radio on and both Tammy and I hearing it immediately.

To complicate matters even more, or possibly shed some light on the situation; I felt a pull to watch “Minority Report” because of a tenuous but important connection I had made from the movie “Vanilla Sky” I had watched not long before. The movie starred Tom Cruise, thus my “direction” to watch “Minority Report”. (I speak more about this connection later in the manuscript)

This inevitably led to my pondering the author's middle name. What did the K stand for? Would I find relevance in his middle name, as well? This was definitely Jungian synchronicity manifesting. It had to be, with everything else that had recently occurred. It's like my own IDIOS KOSMOS had been altered from what it once was, in preparation to receive this information, from what I believe had in part been delivered through the KOINOS KOSMOS. It seemed to me there was some sort of master mind controlling the way reality works i.e. “Space and Time”. This couldn't have been just me. Certainly there was some outside objectivity to it. Either that or I truly was crazy.

Frank Bertrand writings about PKD on Scribd

Frank Bertrand has been a Philip Dick fan since probably before I was born. In the 70's and 80's he conducted several interviews with Phil, and has written extensively about him since Phil's death.

I read a few of his articles when I first had the "PKD connection" on 6-23-2002. I'll be rereading those articles and even more for the first time.

His writings can be found here at Scribd

I've got a lot of rereading to do so I can complete this memoir. I'm looking forward to it.

Thank you, Frank, for all the time and hard work you have put in for the PKD community.

My Memoir Kickstarter Project Launched

I've officially launched my Kickstarter project today. Kickstarter is a fundraising site for creative projects. In this model, one launches a project and sets a deadline to meet their funding goal (1-60 days). If the funding is not met then the project will not be funded. It is an all-or-nothing situation.  Rewards (usually in the form of the finished product, e.g. books, CD's, DVD's, ect.  The more you donate, the better the rewards. Also rewarding, is knowing that you will help someone fulfill one of their dreams, that they may not have been able to do otherwise.

My memoir, called Alienus Tempus, concerns how I manage mental illness and common and not-so common philosophical inquiries while trying to explain mysterious and remarkable events that concern the late science fiction writer, Philip K Dick.

If you happen to read this post, please take a look at my project even if you decide not to donate. That's okay... just so you know that one day this memoir will be available to everyone at no cost.  I want to get this story out. It's my dharma.

Waiting on Rights

I have a short story that follows closely my situation with PKD. It's a very condensed version, but it needs to be told before I can continue with any other work. This is the thorn in my foot that needs to be removed. I'm now waiting on The Estate (of PKD) to decide whether or not I can publish a portion of text from Phil's Exegesis Essa:

"The Ultra Hidden (Cryptic) Doctrine: The Secret Meaning of the Great System of Theosophany of the World, Openly Revealed for the First Time (March 2, 1980)"

The story won't work without it, so if I have to paraphrase it, I will do so. Let's hope for an optimal outcome.

New Blog Series by Charles Q. Choi from Scientific American

I discovered this new blog series from a post at Mindhacks

The very first post is here where Charles Choi describes the purpose of his new blog series. It is a blog about discussing with scientists questions that may science may be impossible to answer. Sounds like a winner!

Penn Writers

Not too long ago, I registered and paid for a membership with Pennwriters.org.
This has saved me the same amount on an upcoming writers conference in Pittsburgh, PA in May. I'm also attending a pre-conference seminar the day before the conference begins.

This will be my first writing conference I will have attended. I'm looking forward to it, and plan to have my novel's first draft completed and a query letter and synopsis ready should I get the chance to perform an elevator pitch.  

Robot questions its own existence?

This is an exciting piece from Scientific American. Be sure to check out the video. This is the stuff of what good science fiction is made. Hard scifi, the kind where you create characters that are trying to reach an objective and you show your readers how it came about.

Be sure to watch the video of the robot trying to walk/crawl

I'm Writing my Novel in 30 Days

Not too long ago, I bought a Writer's Digest Special Edition, "Write Your Novel In 30 Days". I am reading through the meat of the "how to's" and have officially begun this day. I've had much of the first couple of days already finished - like, 5 years ago.

However, I am going to stick closely with the suggested calendar. I've already got more than 10 key scenes, but most of them are in the Beginning. I need to create more for the Middle and the Ending.

I've been up all night thinking about it, so I've decided This Is THE Day to begin.

How much information is there in the world?

ScienceDaily (2011-02-10) -- Think you're overloaded with information? Not even close. A new study calculates how much information humankind can handle.


http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/02/110210141219.htm#

Waking in two places at once

I had an interesting experience Sunday Morning as I lay in bed resonating in and out of sleep.
I would wake up to reality (while laying on belly) and open my eyes, see whatever was really there, and then as soon as I closed my eyes I would see another scene. This scene was a still picture scene (not a moving dream). It's like I was waking up to a different location (in space and/or time). Then I would open my eyes, see what was really in my room, then I would close my eyes and it's like I was seeing a new scene plastered to the inside of my eyelids. Very surreal.

I can't Read!!!

I've been having this obsession for about 4-5 months now, that I will lose the ability to read, and I tell myself over and over again (in my head) that I can't read.

I'm a writer; how can I write if I can not read. See the predicament I've made for myself.

I'm also upset that I can't be everywhere at once and am not able to literally see things from another persons eyes. How fracked up am I? I ruminate over this and other existential/philosophical questions. Arrgghhh!!!

I have a two page list of Obsessions somewhere. I'll have to find it and post it.

Depersonalization Disorder doesn't make things any easier.

Story - "Regolith Obessions"

This is a story I first wrote about 5 or 6 years ago. Mostly untouched since then. A little rusty. Hope someone likes it.



Jesse kneeled next to the portable one piece oxygen generator, repositioned the catalyst for the eighth time within the preceeding thirty minutes. Once finished, he stood up with the pack in hand ready to hoist it onto his back, then took it off and set it aside, only to tear into it again.

Melony, his wife and Mars native along with his Earth born sister, Jackie, were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and nibbling at toast beneath the skylight revealing a rusty Martian skyline.

They peered compassionately into Jesse’s labroom as he worked heavily at his gear.

Shifting her gaze from Melony to Jesse and back to Melony, Jackie whispered, “How bad is it now?”

“It’s worse,” Melony complained. She pulled the coaster closer to her and sat her cup down. “Last night he checked the alarm … let’s just say I lost count after twenty. And this morning, he switched the computer on and off at least ten times. He said the settings didn’t seem right and if he rebooted, the system would run better. He’s less convinced every day.”

“Oh … I didn’t realize it was that bad.” Jackie squinted and dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Is it like this everyday?”

Melany nodded. “It’s so difficult to watch him. I feel so bad, and there’s nothing I can do to help. For nearly six months now, we’ve had to deal with this. He’s been completely out of Stabil for a month now.” She slammed her fists onto the table. “Those damned Terrasolus. If they don’t want to colonize other worlds why don’t they just stay on Earth and leave those of us who do alone?”

Jackie nodded in agreement. “Dan tells me that the Marsguard may soon reach an agreement with the Terrasolus. Maybe soon they’ll let at least one of the supply shuttles land.”

Melony’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s such good news. If he can keep it together just a little while longer, we’ll be OK. If he gets any worse, I’m afraid he may not be able to meet the Quota. I don’t know what he’d do without his work.”

Jess entered the kitchen wearing Mars atmospheric garment, his oxygen tubes draped over the front of his left shoulder. His dark hair dangled over his deep set eyes and weathered face. He blinked hard five times and then furiously rubbed his eyes.
“Okay, Hun,” he sighed, “I guess I’ll be on my way now.” He bent over and kissed his wife firmly on the lips and then glanced at his sister. “I’ll see you later, Jackie. If you’re still here when I get back.”

Jackie smiled at him and said, “Okay, Jesse. Take it easy.”

“I’ll call you between classes,” Melany called out as he left the living quarters and entered the gas exchanger module.

Descending from the hazy sky in his rotacar, Jesse looked out at the freshly dug land and gasped. He had removed far more of the Martian regolith than he had realized or had ever intended.

At testing site sector BE31, about 40 miles south of the Zephyria Plains Volcano there was supposed to have been twenty, two meter squared, one half meter deep sections of dug soil. What there was, however, was a continous levy of martian soil, totally upheaveled bordering the edges of a hole the size of a Terran city block.

Taken aback, he frowned, shook his head and said, “What a damned waste of time and resources. I should just stop while I’m ahead. Just move on. Not that hard to do. Why can’t I? Just do the required amount … a good representative sample and then stop. That’s it.”

At the landing pad, Jesse hopped out of the rotacar, his boots crunching through a few millimeters of the permafrost that surrounded the dig for hundreds of miles. From the storage trunk he retrieved his field equipment, which consisted of various spectrophotometers, field scopes, collection devises and microbial culture media and loaded them onto the remote Intellirove.

High above him, a circling 3D phrase that read “Must we destroy Mars, too?” projected from a distant location he could not directly see.

“Marskeepers,” he sighed. “I applaud their idealism, but their missing a little on the practical side. Don’t they realize that we have to get off Earth, sometime. And to do that, we must make other worlds more like Earth. Survival 101.”

After about three hours of digging, sampling, and culturing he sat down next to the hole and refreshed himself with water and a fieldbar. He scooped up a handful of Martian soil, crumbled it, and let it filter through his fingers.

“I wonder what it is?” he thought.

Most soil scientists don’t sample and test soil deeper than two feet on Mars, because that is where the bacteria and fungi had been seeded in hope that they could eventually add grassy plants.

Jesse, on the other hand, had the obsessive thought that the Terrasolus seeded the soil with terrestrial invertebrates from Earth, which he knew was nonsense since there still wasn’t enough atmospheric oxygen in the air or soil for them to survive. But, Jesse grew up on Earth and studied terrestrial vertebrate biology. He knew them well. He could not escape that transfixing thought, therefore he dug further, until a random sampling area was no longer much of a random area but a complete perimeter exposure. He hardly ever dug below two feet, but a few days ago he had done just that and a subsequent microscopic analysis of the material had revealed tiny spheroids about ten micrometers in diameter. Since, he’d been scooping away just past that two feet point on all areas he had formerly dug.

A rotacar beat its’ way through the air splaying Martian dust in its wake. It eased onto the sand next to his. The sun glared down on Jesse’s eyes as he squinted to try to make out who was traveling toward him. Jess noticed the red “Marsgaurd” logo against the green-blue background of the security vehicle.

To his surprise, his brother-in-law, Dan, climbed out of his rotacar and approached him.

Jesse stood up, shook the sand and soil from his pants and extended his hand. “Dan, I thought you weren’t coming with Jackie this time.”

Dan shook Jesse’s outstretched hand and replied, “Hey, Jesse. I wasn’t planning on it, but ah … something’s come up. Something that I need to check out personally.”
Dan nodded toward the East, “So, how long have they been airing their propaganda?”

“Well,” Jesse shrugged. “It used to be random out here but now it stays on any time someone is in the vicinity. I guess a motion detector must trip the power to the holograph projector. Maybe it’s infrared. I don’t know. It’ll go off soon. Legally they can’t air longer than one minute, once per hour per 100 miles. Anyway…” He crossed his arms and leaned against the field cart. “So, why are you here? Wait… wait… Has the terraform committee sent you here to check up on me?”

“No, Jesse,” Dan rebutted, shifting his weight in the sand. “Why would you say that? Wait…I haven’t said anything to anybody. Nobody outside the family should even know. You know that. We’ve done well at keeping that in the family. It’s nobody else’s damned business, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Well, something’s bothering you; what is it? Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Look, Jesse. The Guard HQ has just found evidence that a few of the more extremist Terrasolus may have seeded damn near the whole planet with some kind of microscopic toxin. Apparently, it was incorporated with the last bacterial spray over fifty years ago. It was incorporated into a radioactive timing device. Once the target time occurs the toxins will be released. We don’t know what the toxin can do. We can only speculate. We’re trying to gather more information, and have assembled a think-tank to determine if anything can be done.”

Jess stood motionless, suspended in disbelief, then kicked a couple of pebbles into the hole he had just dug.

With his hands on his hips, he slowly turned away from Dan and hung his head low, straining to hold back tears of frustration. He knew this was major, yet his own battle crept in. How could he help in this time of need, in his ridiculous condition?

“Unbelievable,” he mumbled while turning to face Dan. “Well, I guess this supercedes my medication problem, huh?”

“We’re hoping that they didn’t go as far as that, and this is just a little scare and that’s it. Just keep a close watch for anything peculiar, OK? I have to get back to regional HQ, got a lot of people to talk to.”

Dan turned and began walking toward his rotacar, when Jesse ran up to him and gasping for breath said, “Wait, Dan. I have something to show you.”

The Hum - West Coast

The Hum had manifested itself to me on two occasions on the West Coast.

The first time was when I was staying with a hostess from couchsurfing.com near Monterey, CA. Each morning as I woke and all was quiet, I could hear that faint hum, like a gigantic engine from a distance.

The second "session" was the two days I spent at the USA Hostel in Hollywood. Each morning when everything most all was quiet, that faint electric pulsating hum could be heard prominently.

Spaceship Earth! LOL

The Walk

I have some unfortunate news to share with any who were following my walking blog. Because of medical issues with my right foot arch (Plantar Fasciitis) and previous ankle injuries included a fracture in my right ankle, I am unable to continue to walk.

The situation in which we must find a ride to the place we last ended our walk is a difficult and unpredictable one, which will conclude in a much longer walk than anticipated and difficulty in trying to find parking spots. However, I believe that I could work with that, but the injuries to my right foot and right ankle have proven to be not be fixable at the time.

I feel much regret and felt like forces beyond my control were at work. Although there is no blame. That's just the way things are at the moment. Perhaps, when my daughter has gone off to college and if I correct the medical condition and finances permit, I will attempt this walk at that time.

I like this insight from Viktor Frankl -

Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to chose how you will respond to the situation. You cannot control what happens in your life, but you can always control what you will feel and do about what happens to you.

Taos, NM and the Hum

I'm currently on the road (in my car, not on foot). I'm currently in Taos, NM - home of many important cultural and art museums. Many creative types - artists, writers, painters, etc, have made Taos, New Mexico their home.

I really wanted to investigate (albeit a short lived investigation) the "hum" and possibly experience it. I've heard the hum in two places just north of Pittsburgh when I lived their. However, a significant portion of Taos, NM (at least 10%) "hears" the hum.

Here is my original post about the hum when I first heard it in Butler, PA.

Sure enough, when thing were quite in my hotel room this morning, upon awakening I could hear that faint hum that sounds like an 18-wheeler from a distance.

Yesterday, on highway 64, just east of Taos, I got out to take some pictures and when I turned the car off, I thought perhaps I didn't because I could steel feel the "hum" of the car. It wasn't sound as much as vibration. And later, at the Taos visitor center, I asked a lady about it and she verified that people say the focal point is about 10 miles east of Taos. I found that after the fact of my experiencing it myself.

Very interesting.

A Walk Revisited

It turns out that fate has dealt me a little money to begin my Walk after all. Not much, but it is a start. This time, because of impending Winter, I plan to visit family in Modesto California for a few days, and from their walk to Point Reyes Station, and from their through San Francisco and following highway 1 to Los Angeles. From LA I will begin traveling East into our Country's interior.

Update

Currently I do not have the funding to begin the "Walk Across America". Even though I would go in an nanosec if I could, at least some things have changed for the better here. I've met a very special friend, but I'm not sure if I should disclose everything about me, i.e. this web site.

She definitely lifts my spirit I think I do hers as well.

Currently looking for work in my field.

OCD

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder can be crippling to the sufferer, whether they have compulsions or not. As a child I had classic OCD (bad image in head repeatedly, then I had to repeatedly pray; or count steps until it "felt right").

Now it's mostly Pure O (Pure Obsessions).

For instance, one thing I keep thinking is that other people can't see me. Intellectually, I know this is not true, but the thought causes extreme anxiety. Most recently traffic patterns and occupation patterns are bothering me. I'll see a busy street and wonder how in the hell could so many people be out and about. Then I try to think where they were coming from, going to, etc. while also thinking about what their occupation is. And I wonder how could there be so many occupations. It's stupid, I have a college degree and am no village idiot. But my mind does not want to grasp it. It just doesn't click.

I could go on and on but I'm at Micky D's at the moment and need to get back on the road to DC.

Imagine OCD and Depersonalization as bed mates - that's me.

I'm on the Road, but in a Car

If you haven't been directed here by a search on Depersonalization, Derealization, or Bau gua tattoo then you probably have seen me in my 2002 gray Chevy Malibu sporting the name of this website on the back windshield.

Thank you for visiting. If you take your time and peruse the site you will find unbelievable yet true events that have taken place in my life. One day I will write a memoir. But for now, unless a publishing deal comes through, I will focus mainly on my fiction.

I still want to Walk Across America, but do not have the start-up funds to do so. If you would like to donate to "Walk" then please visit the sister site Impermanent Insanity Mobile

Walk Across America

I was wishing to "Walk Across America" for many reasons, however at this time it looks as if this will not become an immediate reality. Mostly due to lack of sponsorship. There are so many reasons I wanted to do this. I was even going to write a "Position Statement" and I've already made the companion blog. It's "Impermanent Insanity Mobile".

I still haven't completely given up on it. You never know when you'll see me in your neck of the woods.

Test Post

As Im still in a transitional facility, I have limited use of my laptop, however I have my iPhone most hours of the day. My posts will not be large (as that would require more time). I will try to update more frequently.

If there ever was a rock bottom

If there ever was a rock bottom, I believe I was there. I am now recovering from my vastly dark depression, and am well on my way back to my norm. Unfortunately I was so sick I had to be hospitalized and am now in a transitional care unit. I will be discharged from there anywhere from 4 to 6 weeks. I get passes, mostly on weekends.

Thanks to all who may have meandered this way, and hope to talk to you soon. I have limited access to internet currently.

Not Feeling Well

Things haven't been going well for me lately. I can't work, can't write, and for the last week, barely able to get out of bed. The bed is not even mine. I'm in a sort of temporary group home run by the mental health counceling center I go to. I should have an apartment soon, though not as nice as the one when I was working. Currently on short term disability from the hospital i was working at. I'm finding it so difficult to get motivated. Even the extreme mysticism in my life can not lift me out of this. I hope to eventually get well and post more material, about my life, and about the type of science news that I occasionally write about.

For the few of you who check on me, I appreciate it, and please don't stop coming by.

Eternal Rock

Fingers of giant rock protrude and
Reach out to me, I've been here before
An old wise man once who appeared
In my dream chanted
Which way, to the sacred rooms
Forever, lost in Eternity
Only to be dreamed again and again

I am not a Terrorist

One would think that with the claims I have made and assumptions I have made, surviving relatives and ex-spouses of Philip K Dick would at least acknowledge my existence. It's not like I'm asking for your (excuse me, I meant Phil's) money. I know what part I had in the creation of some of Phil's work (crazy as it seems (hum...maybe that's why they don't talk to me)). You will not hurt my feelings, by saying you have no evidence of my involvement with the psyche of PKD. But hows about sharing some more of those Exigesis entries, shall we? It's something the Estate has been claiming it would do since the official launch of their website PhilipKDick.com.

I don't know, perhaps their are more PKD loonies out there than I realize. But you should know this, I AM the Real Deal. Movie adaptions of PKD's novels will come and go and eventually entropy would take them into obscurity. However, My Story will endure the Test of Time, and because it involves Phil, he will also endure. I have partaken of UBIK (twice, if you care to read my experiences).

It seems like the Estate thinks I am a terrorist, and they are standing by the "we will not negotiate with terrorists" clause.

Well Kids, I am Not a terrorist. I am the closest thing to your Father than you could ever realize. And believe me, I do not say this lightly. I understand that this could likely piss off quite a few people, especially relatives and fans. I do apologize. But like Phil said, it is likely that friends will misinterpret what he said.

Right now, I am working on a story that involves nanotechnology, government conspiracy, two dead scifi writers and one living. And my PKD related posts will be in the book just as that. Except they will be posted not by MDK, but by PJP - Phoenix Janus Pax.

So let it be Written

Eureka! What wonders it does in the progress of a story to actually sit down with pen and paper and begin toiling away and planning and plotting. I got quite a bit done in planning tonight.

It's high concept near future scifi so I've had to attempt to wrap my brain around the science (still a work in progress), but by-god, I think I've got it!


Now if I can muck my way through this mess after some sleep.

Just another Day

One of the many things of which I am disappointed with myself is the fact that it is very possible that my beautiful daughter will graduate high school before I have published anything. There are worse things, I know. Since the calling (7 years ago) I have written very little. A couple of short stories, one novella, and the beginnings of what I believe will be a break-out novel, but alas, I procrastinate. I also feel burdened and tortured by what I've experienced and what I think I know. I've been on short-term disability for depression, OCD (I get 60% of my normal pay) for about 5 weeks now, am barely making it financially (I may even have to move to a less expensive apartment). So yeah, I have the time, but it is not very constructive, while I worry about all the non-sensible things that happened in my life, and the everyday battles that are akin to every other persons problems.

It's like I'm afraid to write, although I know I do it well. I feel time is slipping away from me. The more I wait, the harder it is to start. Damn it!!!!

Ahhh! Sorry.

Just another day.

No Gamble

To my very few friends related to this blog ... I'm sorry for the drama and that I don't post frequently. Your visits make a difference to me, please keep checking in.

I haven't been feeling well and had to take time off from my work. Per company policy my position was terminated. I am getting a short-term disability benefit (portion of weekly pay). Not sure when I'll be ready to begin searching for new work. Certainly not now.

My next thought is: If there are any brave, courageous Venture Capitalists out there who may possibly have a flare for the hidden, and a gnawing sense of wanting to be involved with a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon consider investing in my investigations into what "ALL THAT IS" is really about. You know something isn't right. I am here to guide humankind to that knowledge and realization. Or so the evidence and personal experience directs me to believe.

I can guarantee my phenomenal novel that is titled "Alienus Tractus" to be complete in one year. I just need to be able to work on that novel, without distraction of other duties. US travel is important to the development of this story.

I'm not asking for much, considering this is a global commitment, and every sentient life on Earth may be at risk. Help me uncover the pentultimate truth, if there is one. Let's see where my writing goes, shall we. I will include names of benefactors in one way or another in my work, if wished.

Namaste

MDK

911, Presidents and Dreams, Oh My!

First, I'm still alive. The machine has not taken me down yet.

Today is the 8th year to the day that many lives were taken and the towers fell in NYC. So I will take various moments through out the day in remembrance of them and all the frailties of human nature.

Now this may come as no surprise but the past month I have had a few notable deja vu experiences, which I will summarize sometime in the near future. Of course, there were a few events timed "suspiciously".

I had a dream just last night that I was in Baltimore, MD and trying to get to Washington DC. That's about all I will say for now until memory serves me. It's "suspicious" in the fact that just this morning (after my dream, or at least I think) that there was a potential problem with President Obama's safety. Apparently the US Coast Guard was conducting exercises in the Potomac River near the Memorial Bridge where President Obama's motorcade just happened to be passing. Perhaps not at the exact same time, but close enough to lend credence to my dream (at least for me). Interesting.

Interesting!!!

To Live, or Not To Live

Now, that is THE question, one that can be taken to varying levels of interpretation. There are various degrees of life, and there are various degrees of death.

Personally, if my Yin matched my Yang I would perhaps be OK, but alas, I am not balanced. I am feeling out of balance, the Yin (Death) breathing down my back and the Yang (Life) gawking helplessly in the shadow.

I just don't know how much longer I can fight the inevitable