I guess that I really am a "humbugger." It dawned on me from what people say to me that nobody can stand being around me. I don't know how my wife puts up with me, if nobody else does. And, a lot of the time: my wife doesn't put up with me! This phenome seems to recur all the time in my life: where I find other people cannot stand being around me. The guy from the next door house out back used to call me "Mr. Annoying Man." I overheard another neighbor say to someone else do not have anything to do with me, I'll make their lives a living hell. Other people have said that I am difficult or eccentric, hyperverbal and even hologramic, like a Robin Williams. Other opinions are that I am a hard person to get to know, but once you get to know me: I am a good person to know. One recent person that I met said that I am hard to listen to. Never minding all the epithets that I have been called in my life by people near and far ... Not to mention a diagnosis of SZ! A doctor said to me recently that a lot of people in the community have misjudged me. I am not sure what to believe or what the solution is so that I don't burn all proverbial bridges with people and continue to try and grow within the world of life by being employed and biting my tongue more often.
^^AVAILABLE ON AMAZON
Friday, October 10, 2014
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Short Life History of JBS:
The large, open-spaced house is nestled on a lush hillside off Spur Loop Road with a westerly overlook onto the Atlantic Ocean in the tropical city of Freetown, Sierra Leone. Spur Loop Road is a road which circles a ridge of a hillside replete with cinder block houses and corrugated roof tops so that when it rains during monsoon seasons, the patter of rain is thunderous on roofs of houses.
The doctor who stitches my forehead when I fall head first onto cement from the top of washing my mother's Renault 4 automobile lives a half mile down the road. The doctor is the same doctor who administers seven rabies shots in my stomach when I am bit by another neighbour's dog. During the seventh rabies shot, the doctor releases hold of the syringe with needle in my gut and I stop screaming at the pain, bewildered. Rabies shots hurt. Doctors, lawyers, wealthy business people, government officials, etc. live in the Spur Loop Road neighbourhood.
One evening, on a Sunday night, after having spent a weekend out of the city at Tokeh Beach where I learn to steer the Renault 4 down sand tracks sitting on my mother's lap, my mother, father, brother and myself are sitting on the large veranda of the Spur Loop House playing board games when my dad is alert to a red and white, Coca-Cola box truck which is parked a short distance from the front gate up the driveway.
Sensing commotion, I venture up the driveway to the gate and peer into the culvert street where my dad is wielding a baseball bat banging on the box truck and yelling for my mother to call a friend and tell the friend to bring a gun. My dad turns to see me at the gate and yells for to go inside the house, which I do but not before I glimpse the back of the box truck open and some ten to fifteen African men clamber out of the truck scurrying from my dad into bushes.
I wonder at the time how my dad knows the box truck is an ambush plot orchestrated by the gate watchman whom my dad employs, but now I see that it is obvious to anybody who can calculate many variations of any situation or circumstance from experience. For one thing: it is unusual for a Coca-Cola box truck to be parked in front of the Spur Loop gate on a Sunday evening and not to have the watchman notify anybody in the house of it. Either way: we survive possible mutilation, thanks to my dad's irate temper while wielding a baseball bat!
Africa is very beautiful. "Ah! But, Your Land is Beautiful," as Alan Paton's book is titled. I am born in Lubumbashi, Zaïre, live in Freetown, Sierra Leone until 8 years old when I pack for English boarding school in Bracknell, Berkshire until I am 10 years old. At ten years old, I fly to New York City from London, UK where I am greeted by my dad and brother at JFK airpot for a crowded subway ride into Manhattan on the afternoon of a rained out Diana Ross concert at which people riot.
At 15 years old, I pack for prep school in Massachusetts leaving NYC and at 17 years old: I find myself in Atlanta finishing high school at a public school because I am kicked out of prep school for drinking. I apply to one university, San Francisco State University, leave Georgia and drive a pick up truck across the country to San Francisco meeting with a friend from grade school on his way to Washington State.
I live in SF for one year and a half until December 1993 when I drive with a futon in the back of my truck to Idaho where I meet my family over Christmas. I sleep in the back of the truck on a futon in ten below temperatures. I drop off the truck at an uncle's house in Arkansas driving across the country from Idaho with my dad, my second time driving across the country. Leaving the truck in Arkansas, I fly to Gaborone, Botswana where I stay with my parents for six months until May 1994.
By June 1994, I am in Maine for a brief two weeks and on the road to North Carolina where I stay at a beach town sleeping in my truck. I drive to Georgia where I visit with family and then across the country for the third time where I sleep a night at James Canyon, New Mexico, which is at a ten thousand foot elevation up a steep, mountainous road.
Long story short, I live out of a truck with a futon for three years in Bellingham, Washington where I catch up with the grade school friend whom I meet in Chicago my driving from Atlanta heading west to San Francisco. In 1997, I move to Maine.
All told: I drive across the country eight times and visit Africa and Europe countless times over my life until 27 years old when I move to where I live now in Portland, Maine. I live out of a bag for the first twenty-seven years of my life and call home is where you hang yourself now. I seldom leave the house and do not like to with an anxiety off the rector scale about being stopped by police forty-five times in Maine. I would not board a plane or travel further than within northern New England as to say if I board a plane: they'll reroute it to Bangor! My primary wish for my life is to die never having been a convicted criminal. In a world where "all cops are criminals and sinners saints," it is very easy to be falsely accused and such instances happen to me in regards to authority at about the same frequency as racially profiled people.
I don't know why people are scared of me that they think that they have to call police on me, but they call. It is kind of like my "hurry up and wait" bumper sticker: I think that it incites road rage directed at me where some other drivers honk when behind me and flip the finger at me while crossing the double yellow to go around me when I am trying to parallel park. If I parallel park with signals while someone crosses the double yellow to go around me parallel parking and I ding their vehicle, it is not my fault: the other driver crosses the double yellow. Sometimes, I think that I am born just to be the cause of everyone's problems or that I live my whole life just for someone to invade my rented apartment, beat me up and have police tell me "don't call us anymore!" Anyway, that is the most of what my short history consists without ranting, I hope!
The doctor who stitches my forehead when I fall head first onto cement from the top of washing my mother's Renault 4 automobile lives a half mile down the road. The doctor is the same doctor who administers seven rabies shots in my stomach when I am bit by another neighbour's dog. During the seventh rabies shot, the doctor releases hold of the syringe with needle in my gut and I stop screaming at the pain, bewildered. Rabies shots hurt. Doctors, lawyers, wealthy business people, government officials, etc. live in the Spur Loop Road neighbourhood.
One evening, on a Sunday night, after having spent a weekend out of the city at Tokeh Beach where I learn to steer the Renault 4 down sand tracks sitting on my mother's lap, my mother, father, brother and myself are sitting on the large veranda of the Spur Loop House playing board games when my dad is alert to a red and white, Coca-Cola box truck which is parked a short distance from the front gate up the driveway.
Sensing commotion, I venture up the driveway to the gate and peer into the culvert street where my dad is wielding a baseball bat banging on the box truck and yelling for my mother to call a friend and tell the friend to bring a gun. My dad turns to see me at the gate and yells for to go inside the house, which I do but not before I glimpse the back of the box truck open and some ten to fifteen African men clamber out of the truck scurrying from my dad into bushes.
I wonder at the time how my dad knows the box truck is an ambush plot orchestrated by the gate watchman whom my dad employs, but now I see that it is obvious to anybody who can calculate many variations of any situation or circumstance from experience. For one thing: it is unusual for a Coca-Cola box truck to be parked in front of the Spur Loop gate on a Sunday evening and not to have the watchman notify anybody in the house of it. Either way: we survive possible mutilation, thanks to my dad's irate temper while wielding a baseball bat!
Africa is very beautiful. "Ah! But, Your Land is Beautiful," as Alan Paton's book is titled. I am born in Lubumbashi, Zaïre, live in Freetown, Sierra Leone until 8 years old when I pack for English boarding school in Bracknell, Berkshire until I am 10 years old. At ten years old, I fly to New York City from London, UK where I am greeted by my dad and brother at JFK airpot for a crowded subway ride into Manhattan on the afternoon of a rained out Diana Ross concert at which people riot.
At 15 years old, I pack for prep school in Massachusetts leaving NYC and at 17 years old: I find myself in Atlanta finishing high school at a public school because I am kicked out of prep school for drinking. I apply to one university, San Francisco State University, leave Georgia and drive a pick up truck across the country to San Francisco meeting with a friend from grade school on his way to Washington State.
I live in SF for one year and a half until December 1993 when I drive with a futon in the back of my truck to Idaho where I meet my family over Christmas. I sleep in the back of the truck on a futon in ten below temperatures. I drop off the truck at an uncle's house in Arkansas driving across the country from Idaho with my dad, my second time driving across the country. Leaving the truck in Arkansas, I fly to Gaborone, Botswana where I stay with my parents for six months until May 1994.
By June 1994, I am in Maine for a brief two weeks and on the road to North Carolina where I stay at a beach town sleeping in my truck. I drive to Georgia where I visit with family and then across the country for the third time where I sleep a night at James Canyon, New Mexico, which is at a ten thousand foot elevation up a steep, mountainous road.
Long story short, I live out of a truck with a futon for three years in Bellingham, Washington where I catch up with the grade school friend whom I meet in Chicago my driving from Atlanta heading west to San Francisco. In 1997, I move to Maine.
All told: I drive across the country eight times and visit Africa and Europe countless times over my life until 27 years old when I move to where I live now in Portland, Maine. I live out of a bag for the first twenty-seven years of my life and call home is where you hang yourself now. I seldom leave the house and do not like to with an anxiety off the rector scale about being stopped by police forty-five times in Maine. I would not board a plane or travel further than within northern New England as to say if I board a plane: they'll reroute it to Bangor! My primary wish for my life is to die never having been a convicted criminal. In a world where "all cops are criminals and sinners saints," it is very easy to be falsely accused and such instances happen to me in regards to authority at about the same frequency as racially profiled people.
I don't know why people are scared of me that they think that they have to call police on me, but they call. It is kind of like my "hurry up and wait" bumper sticker: I think that it incites road rage directed at me where some other drivers honk when behind me and flip the finger at me while crossing the double yellow to go around me when I am trying to parallel park. If I parallel park with signals while someone crosses the double yellow to go around me parallel parking and I ding their vehicle, it is not my fault: the other driver crosses the double yellow. Sometimes, I think that I am born just to be the cause of everyone's problems or that I live my whole life just for someone to invade my rented apartment, beat me up and have police tell me "don't call us anymore!" Anyway, that is the most of what my short history consists without ranting, I hope!
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Suing the American Psychiatric Association:
I am looking for an attorney to help me sue the American Psychiatric Association for the culture of stigma that exists in communities, media and the public's perspective against a diagnosed person when a person is diagnosed with a major mental illness diagnosis out of the DSM IV.
I have extensive personal evidence and records of stigma against me in my community as a mental ill diagnosed person as well as a quick search on the Internet will result in many applicable and evident documentation of stigma, including renowned psychiatrist Dr. E. Fuller Torrey's quote of "schizophrenia is the modern day equivalent of leprosy."
As no person is autonomous in this world and it takes two to tango, I can document verbal and physical stigma against me on the part of police in the community wherein I live, mental health staff at clinics to which I have had appointments, family, so called friends and strangers resulting in a degenerative well being for me: such as excessive suicide ideation and a suicide attempt in 2008 for which I was hospitalised for the eighth time in my life.
I have extensive personal evidence and records of stigma against me in my community as a mental ill diagnosed person as well as a quick search on the Internet will result in many applicable and evident documentation of stigma, including renowned psychiatrist Dr. E. Fuller Torrey's quote of "schizophrenia is the modern day equivalent of leprosy."
As no person is autonomous in this world and it takes two to tango, I can document verbal and physical stigma against me on the part of police in the community wherein I live, mental health staff at clinics to which I have had appointments, family, so called friends and strangers resulting in a degenerative well being for me: such as excessive suicide ideation and a suicide attempt in 2008 for which I was hospitalised for the eighth time in my life.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Frustrated:
Of all the ways that I have tried to communicate ideas, plans, experiences, life events, etc. or try to communicate about those things are always met by devil's advocate rebuttals and retorts that end in people hanging me out to dry.
I have no way of expressing anything utilising the English language, much less to a lot of people with a tongue in cheek, lexicon repertoire in utilising the English language to communicate my thoughts.
I find that I cannot communicate verbally with a lot of people due to the fact that most in this community are the kind that if I look at someone funny: they are liable to beat me up. The world is full of con men and narcs who call the police over nothing.
I am tired of my situation and need a change. I need somebody to whom I can communicate through talking in English. Sometimes, I will say a word another person doesn't understand and the person will have a perplexed look as if they don't understand what I just communicated, but the person will not interject and ask what a word means in constructs of English language to express thoughts and ideas.
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Fed Up:
The next door house is hosting a loud, underage party singing Happy birthday to the nation on the night of the 4th, 2014 and set off fireworks amidst tinder box houses all built circa 1910 with dry timber all up inside the erections at caterwauling teeny-boppers being prompted to "drink, drink, drink."
I managed to drown out the noise with my 10,000 BTUs.
They are the same neighbours from out west who move here, have no idea and accuse me who has been living here for thirteen years of ransacking change out of their vehicles.
What I don't understand about the time that everybody's tire is slashed is why the tire slashers didn't slash two or all four tires on all the vehicles and rip apart the windshield wipers too with a key swipe across the paint jobs on the vehicles that night!?! (I guess that they didn't think of it!)
Not the first time that I am accused and it is a plethora of times that I am accused from everything like stealing heat living above another apartment when I explain "heat rises" to a list too long to list here without it reading like a rant.
All I know is that if I even "squeak" my chair or speak an octave higher than a whisper, the police will be knocking at the door because someone calls them on me: much more if I am to host an underage, drinking party keeping the neighbourhood awake with fire crackers and "drink, drink, drink" chants...
I managed to drown out the noise with my 10,000 BTUs.
They are the same neighbours from out west who move here, have no idea and accuse me who has been living here for thirteen years of ransacking change out of their vehicles.
What I don't understand about the time that everybody's tire is slashed is why the tire slashers didn't slash two or all four tires on all the vehicles and rip apart the windshield wipers too with a key swipe across the paint jobs on the vehicles that night!?! (I guess that they didn't think of it!)
Not the first time that I am accused and it is a plethora of times that I am accused from everything like stealing heat living above another apartment when I explain "heat rises" to a list too long to list here without it reading like a rant.
All I know is that if I even "squeak" my chair or speak an octave higher than a whisper, the police will be knocking at the door because someone calls them on me: much more if I am to host an underage, drinking party keeping the neighbourhood awake with fire crackers and "drink, drink, drink" chants...
Thursday, June 12, 2014
The news that "general assistance"...
http://www.pressherald.com/2014/06/12/maine-to-halt-funds-for-illegal-immigrants-aid/
The news that "general assistance" (food, water, clothing, shelter and refuge from elements of society and environment) will be denied anyone, anywhere is further proof that people involved in pursuing such an agenda are "xenophobic" and most likely do not know what xenophobia is and of what it is a product, as in to determine psychologically what a person's motive is in denying people (not to mention, animals) basic life support in a society of the "plenty greedy."
I'd have to diagnose the officials who legislated the agenda of denying "general assistance" are guilty of at least several cognates according to the "Seven Deadly Sins." Yet, they that institute such a measure attend church for TV cameras, it seems.
I was homeless for three years living out of a truck in Washington State, locking myself in a library twelve hours per day and attending the local churches' suppers: at least five suppers per week at different churches.The closest thing to a church supper by church ladies for the homeless in Maine and in New England and in a lot of places is a liver and peas brunch.
The Maine delegation to cut off general assistance to approx. 1,000 people saving $1 million / year while the same delegates pay $1 million for a 6-month plagiarism study on welfare fraud in Maine is akin to throwing acid into a pool because of racism, xenophobia, bigotry, etc.
America is a land of "plenty greedy people" when multi-billion dollar corporations are offered incentives and essentially, kickbacks in off shore accounts and other tax incentives while outside CEO headquarters: a homeless man/woman/child is told to move along because he is holding a sign trying to make a buck.
The news that "general assistance" (food, water, clothing, shelter and refuge from elements of society and environment) will be denied anyone, anywhere is further proof that people involved in pursuing such an agenda are "xenophobic" and most likely do not know what xenophobia is and of what it is a product, as in to determine psychologically what a person's motive is in denying people (not to mention, animals) basic life support in a society of the "plenty greedy."
I'd have to diagnose the officials who legislated the agenda of denying "general assistance" are guilty of at least several cognates according to the "Seven Deadly Sins." Yet, they that institute such a measure attend church for TV cameras, it seems.
I was homeless for three years living out of a truck in Washington State, locking myself in a library twelve hours per day and attending the local churches' suppers: at least five suppers per week at different churches.The closest thing to a church supper by church ladies for the homeless in Maine and in New England and in a lot of places is a liver and peas brunch.
The Maine delegation to cut off general assistance to approx. 1,000 people saving $1 million / year while the same delegates pay $1 million for a 6-month plagiarism study on welfare fraud in Maine is akin to throwing acid into a pool because of racism, xenophobia, bigotry, etc.
America is a land of "plenty greedy people" when multi-billion dollar corporations are offered incentives and essentially, kickbacks in off shore accounts and other tax incentives while outside CEO headquarters: a homeless man/woman/child is told to move along because he is holding a sign trying to make a buck.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Word Art:
EYES
WEEPING
EYES, RENT IN TWAIN, STRAIN TO SEA
WIND WEARY MAGNOLIA TREES AND
WYNTON BURRS REIGNING FREE
SEE ICY SEAS FACE CLIFFS
WHY RELAX MOON EYES
DRIVE WEARY STRAIN WAN
RACE LEFT A NEST A FELT SEA
WE SAW NEW DABS WAX & WAN
BE IT TO THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE
WYNTON WIND AND EYES RIVE TO BE
WEEPING
EYES, RENT IN TWAIN, STRAIN TO SEA
WIND WEARY MAGNOLIA TREES AND
WYNTON BURRS REIGNING FREE
SEE ICY SEAS FACE CLIFFS
WHY RELAX MOON EYES
DRIVE WEARY STRAIN WAN
RACE LEFT A NEST A FELT SEA
WE SAW NEW DABS WAX & WAN
BE IT TO THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE
WYNTON WIND AND EYES RIVE TO BE
WEEPING
EYES.
Can an eel sense bias in news?
Dictum ensures enabled, sane,
Slanted, unbiased sensibilities
Biased by sensible, new news.
Sensing biased, slanted news,
(censurable au-real sensibilia),
News slants are sense biased.
Eels and you ensure sonar by
Uncanny ability at said dictum.
Sensibilia-what may be sensed-
Enables dictated, slanted rants,
Dances of banter on the screen,
Incensed chances at audiences,
Among Ben Franklin and buttons.
ZYGOTHiX-samson sees delilah babbling Babylonian-XiHTOGNEZ
ZENGOTE-clamorous monkeys taunt human audiences-ETOGYZ
snowe balls "alack in unity" deigning to dignity;
concordant collegiate limy crowned king cowers;
concomitant conflation commodes contaminates;
raised tables serve statuesque night goddesses;
cairns crane sane paths amidst mountain views;
banes of existence come in shadows of a name;
sips of wine while I dine is no crime as I rhyme;
as Don Quixote, if ass gets stuck in ditch, pull;
rat race inducts are efficacious deliberates;
clinical literary license evokes critical lies;
voracious appetites flaw character code;
scintillating flecks flicker flights of fancy;
glitteratti models quote cinched monks;
diabolical extremities cloak split minds;
altruistic stipulations create quagmires;
colloquial variations constipate phonetics;
lines cognate to limitless means and ends;
invisibility invokes a stymied, vacant cry wolf;
intrepid limpid dissipates bray into bloody frays;
vociferated vernacular vei|s vanity violently vying;
teeming tenacity tantalizes tendencies to telepathy;
intimate indecencies inspires articulate conspiracies;
coagulate correspondences circulate correlated words;
a cad ass sits, splits and plunks dynamos flushing to sea;
creepy crawls crammed creamy crimson cones in collision;
plucked hens cluck amuck countering cornice cockle-dudes;
synaptical claps placate cystic clans pining nay say sin pangs;
slain saints nit salt in latin sanity saying it to tan city tic slacks;
sublimate supplications surround serene super sonar sounds;
in yesterday, yonkers yammered yarns to yummy mummies;
a neologistic moniker pneumatically abraded sensibilities;
assimilated simplicity pitched charisma against entropy;
latent lament lingers long into wailing moons waning;
vaunted vanes verily vilifies venison during season;
acrylic cream flakes mint tulips to sate passion;
sinisterly claimed core blames nomenclatures;
every hair is counted by contrary countries;
see icy sea face cliff, why relax moon eye;
limber limbic system intensifies pleasure;
"out damned spot," bloody red summer;
allegoric limericks sharpen stony wit;
phobic inflection fuses flagrant fins;
fearsome flares invite vindication;
sully syndicates extrapolate toil;
carbuncle skin reflects boons;
Alone, men ride many miles;
no sun shines, croon loons;
broken bony remains blare;
fortunes trickle conniptions
to fall from window frames,
as pea seas waver & crash.
___/..___
Can an eel sense bias in news?
Dictum ensures enabled, sane,
Slanted, unbiased sensibilities
Biased by sensible, new news.
Sensing biased, slanted news,
(censurable au-real sensibilia),
News slants are sense biased.
Eels and you ensure sonar by
Uncanny ability at said dictum.
Sensibilia-what may be sensed-
Enables dictated, slanted rants,
Dances of banter on the screen,
Incensed chances at audiences,
Among Ben Franklin and buttons.
ZYGOTHiX-samson sees delilah babbling Babylonian-XiHTOGNEZ
ZENGOTE-clamorous monkeys taunt human audiences-ETOGYZ
snowe balls "alack in unity" deigning to dignity;
concordant collegiate limy crowned king cowers;
concomitant conflation commodes contaminates;
raised tables serve statuesque night goddesses;
cairns crane sane paths amidst mountain views;
banes of existence come in shadows of a name;
sips of wine while I dine is no crime as I rhyme;
as Don Quixote, if ass gets stuck in ditch, pull;
rat race inducts are efficacious deliberates;
clinical literary license evokes critical lies;
voracious appetites flaw character code;
scintillating flecks flicker flights of fancy;
glitteratti models quote cinched monks;
diabolical extremities cloak split minds;
altruistic stipulations create quagmires;
colloquial variations constipate phonetics;
lines cognate to limitless means and ends;
invisibility invokes a stymied, vacant cry wolf;
intrepid limpid dissipates bray into bloody frays;
vociferated vernacular vei|s vanity violently vying;
teeming tenacity tantalizes tendencies to telepathy;
intimate indecencies inspires articulate conspiracies;
coagulate correspondences circulate correlated words;
a cad ass sits, splits and plunks dynamos flushing to sea;
creepy crawls crammed creamy crimson cones in collision;
plucked hens cluck amuck countering cornice cockle-dudes;
synaptical claps placate cystic clans pining nay say sin pangs;
slain saints nit salt in latin sanity saying it to tan city tic slacks;
sublimate supplications surround serene super sonar sounds;
in yesterday, yonkers yammered yarns to yummy mummies;
a neologistic moniker pneumatically abraded sensibilities;
assimilated simplicity pitched charisma against entropy;
latent lament lingers long into wailing moons waning;
vaunted vanes verily vilifies venison during season;
acrylic cream flakes mint tulips to sate passion;
sinisterly claimed core blames nomenclatures;
every hair is counted by contrary countries;
see icy sea face cliff, why relax moon eye;
limber limbic system intensifies pleasure;
"out damned spot," bloody red summer;
allegoric limericks sharpen stony wit;
phobic inflection fuses flagrant fins;
fearsome flares invite vindication;
sully syndicates extrapolate toil;
carbuncle skin reflects boons;
Alone, men ride many miles;
no sun shines, croon loons;
broken bony remains blare;
fortunes trickle conniptions
to fall from window frames,
as pea seas waver & crash.
___/..___
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