Field Reports/blabbering mostly

      The life has been going strange places since I started writing about what happened to me....  not as strange as the goings on of 06/07/08...  milder.  Subtle games have replaced the brutality of the first years of my entry into the ONE WAR as a freelance spy/psy-op operative working only for my little perspective.


There has never been a movement of an obsession to come along to make me ever think that I should change my life to change the world.  Protesters usually lose if they work for the kind of unpopular issues I have worked on -- like the environment and hand gun control in California.  Important issues, but nothing that could really change the earth.

Sad break up songs are playing on the radio/ summer's coming has the windows open.  My mind has been all over the planet for the last few months, trying to make such of so much that no one ever taught me in school.  And some that they did.

The feeling that I am getting something important done comes and goes.  There is always going to be a part of me that thinks no matter what I do, it amounts to nothing. ... at times.  I have been thinking a lot about writing stories and books and really pretty much thinking that any career in this field I ever wanted is pretty much fucked at this point.  My work has grown so controversial, my  conclusions so radical, that I would cause them trouble if they let me just go out and be an artist in a free market.  I do not want to quit writing just to spite them.  That is part of their goal with all the harassment.

Still... I could do much better financially if I concentrated on just painting.  They sell easily.   At present I have nothing I am willing to part with.

The update of the story is pretty much out on Facebook.  the drugging, brain washing, getting tricked into jail so sleazy that it doesn't even show up as resolved to the Secret Service... they could not find the court records, big fucking surprise.  Set up.   I have so much to hate over.. that is the hardest thing at times.  hating this world is easy.  Loving this world is hard.


ELECTION TIME AGAIN....all the little Hitler's are circling their masters bearing their asses.


This is about how cynical I have become of late.   I am sure that the present system is beyond any repair.  Thee is no savior who will rise in our present two party system.   This leads me to think that the old ways of swaying the populace are all out of date.   I mean, the old way was to revolt against the state.  That though takes a lot of factors that are simply not here, and I THANK GOD FOR THAT.  I could only commit to a movement that was going to work non-violently.   I would never want to be involved in a plan that required any kind violence that was not defensive.   The revolt would have to be popular enough that the politicians would be abandoned by the armed forces and the police, because those factions will feel the same way as the populace.

Now, that is in the world of the surface.  this voting business.  There is another layer to this whole thing, where voting simply does not mean a damn.   The system is askewed toward the vastly  wealthy and face it, that part of history is over, folks.  You have to share.  What was once eccentricity is quickly becoming appalling and criminal

The hardest part is coming to an understanding that I am forever changed.  No remaking myself again, no treatment is going to improve on what is here at this point.   I cannot forget that I have placed myself in a position of power, however underground.  The damning security of this life.  In danger.  Last thing I ever expected from my work.   Oh, well.  I have to follow my vision, or what is the point of becoming a writer at all?  Part of what appealed to me about the profession was that you could be wildly different than everyone else, really say what you wanted with your idiom, your thoughts.... not like most things, where there is only one right way.  With writing there are NEW RIGHT WAYS to discover (or more correctly, more often than not, re-discover).  Poetry especially takes you into all the various ways of using words.


Now, I guess I am still writing, pounding out new rather experimental stuff on Facebook.   A lot of phrases I am making up.  Sort of prose poetry, and sometimes with formal line breaks.   All leading up to something like a book of poetry I suppose.  Some of it.  Another strain is statements from the elite.  Which would fit good within a book of comedy with bite.... more bite than laugh, perhaps....  I guess I now offer bite with a few laughs...  that equation has switched since my more comedic days.