I am supposed to write about what happened so important that I was changed. I am supposed to tell of what it is beyond the facts that my life meant.
I have secrets.
Secrets are weapons in our world. That is of course one thing you likely learned by the time you could read by the time you struggled to have friends as friends were not assumed by proximity.
For the 40s and 50s and 60s the news was about a strong nation with jets flying around and people in nice new ranch homes with cars with fins on them.
It was not at all unusual for families to move, according to the magazines like Time, or Life, which were on most every coffee table, Move, every 2 years.
My Family, moved often early in my life.
We may have fit some National profile they reported as a trend in Time of Life, but far as I can tell it was absolute bullshit once we got into the South.
We did end up in a very nice house that had made my mother and father happy to find and buy. It was at the corner of Lee and Lebanon, and I have a photograph of it take about 4 years ago on the wall. I do not remember the phone number of that day. Nor do I remember any number for the street address because we had a Post Office Box.
Lawrence O-Brian was the Post Master General whose name is on the Post Office in Elon College which is the last place I and my brothers and sisters and mother and father lived as a family.
Mom divorced my father because he was having affairs with men was the way she put it. “You haven’t told my brother and sisters.” was the first thing out of my mouth and we never did tell my brother and sisters till all were of High School age.
They could figure it out themselves. Dad could tell them one by one if he wanted.
As a secret in the small college town of Elon College a good deal of pain and violence came from the fact that dad was gay, or gay, homo.
I believe he felt that Black people deserved Civil Rights because they shared with him suffering.
Turned out the Black people in the Baptist churches looked, and look down on homosexuals or those living on the Down Low.
All I ever learned out of some of these things was you need to beat the shit out of people who go out of their way to hurt you because you are set apart as available and approved of as a target.
The homosexuals who fought with NYC police over there on Stone St. did it when it was just too much and they had had enough, and there were enough of them to basically win, or not lose too bad.
You do discover that if you declare who you are and who your friends are you may get enough of a corp together to fight the majority who are your enemies while you are in a minority.
There really is supposed to be a difference between Democracy and Mob rule.
These days as I write there are a great number of fundamentalists who are to the benefit of the Grand Old Party ignorant of the ethics of good government and attached to mob rule.
I come from rich and poor people who have lived best they could on the East Coast of the United States going back a good ways we have discovered.
I used to say I came from Sailors and Priests, and that actually isn’t too far off, but not near the whole story.
We must have been poor or unlucky up till a certain time like the times on when everybody could leave a picture in the form of a photograph, for there are no paintings of family.
Hell the best known artist of the family made pictures of war buddies, and barns and factories, not family.

Well Okay I started out with pictures I have attempted to post repeatedly here first, as Old Business.
I try hard as hell to do things in order. Live your life like it is run by Roberts Rules of Order and really you can’t go but so wrong. Of course we can go wrong.
Some of us are just bad. My father directed the play The Bad Seed. He did a great job. I’ll never forget it, nor the wind up telephone that range when you wound it up so the actor would start talking into it, the Telephone, the wire thing.
Yes it came before the Wireless.
Nobody is alive who was born in the same year that the telephone was invented and became popular. You can’t watch all the movies ever made now either, though there was a time when you could see them all on TV.
Really.
There are things now impossible to do.
I was born in 1952 in White Plains New York which is famous as a place from which came Readers Digest.
I finally saw the place from a train once and I videotaped it and put it in a video titled TRANSCENDIA, Documentary of a Small Nation. You can still see that on my youtube channel. Transcendian, is my youtube channel.
I was born in 1952 and it knocked the breath out of me to turn 60 this year, last year really. December 26.
My wife believes I am old enough and has encouraged me to write my Memoir. I listened to some of my mother’s memoir a couple of weeks ago. She became very concerned with women’s rights because of how her father and mother treated her brother as different and better. “He got boots!” is what she says about it: along with a pocket knife.
My father got shot at during World War II and died at 62 and is buried in St. Petersburg Florida in a church plot under a Bronze soldier’s plaque. My father was born in 1922 and cared about the Community Theater Movement, championed in his youth by scholars like Hardin Craig who was a Shakespearian translator and codification professor.
This is what I remember right now.
Of course there is more and more and more.
War and anti war is a lot of what a man’s life is about. Women walk around telling men they are stupid for war.
Women interfere with war most chances they get.
At least that is what I have perceived. It feels like that. When I was Security for Rochdale College that girl scion of the McCleans publishing empire wanted us to go easy on the guy who we caught beating one of our drug dealers with a pipe, and then trying to steal 350 dollars worth of mescaline.
All running around in the Security room while we decided what to do with this guy. It was cut off a finger, or give him about 30 tabs of that bad brown windowpane LSD, or get him to sign over his car.
I needed a car.
We got his car.
I and Weird Harold misused the car and I almost got thrown out of the window, but that was all around better for the violent criminal, than being made permanently crazy, or losing a finger.
Harold Snowden and I just took the Chevy Imapala on a long drive and I didn’t use it to become a Landed Emmigrant.
The guy who had been disappointed about how he didn’t get to cut the finger off of this stupid criminal, who we needed to impress with fear so he would spread the word not to fuck with our people, had gotten the title for the car, that I was supposed to use for a limited amount of time.
OK. I did not become a Canadian.

Transcendia comes from a touchstone vision, but forget about that. When the leader being forced out has to get out he ought to just go to the airport, and declare himself in need of protection and travel arrangements may be made by the Transcendian offices to take up the sort of function Andre` Lewin listed in UN Reinvention Points, like as what they did with Napoleon when they put him on Elba, that island.
Andre` didn’t want to see the airports as islands everywhere capable of fulfilling that function.
The idea is not to corner rats.
Transcendian offices will have to take up details that are distasteful sometimes to justify the existence of the state.
We must work to minimize war, which means dealing with it.

What ought to have happened with Tony Soprano and Doctor of Dreams Dr. Malfee, is that she advises Tony to divorce Carmella for being too much like his mother, and they marry. Dr. Malfee is advised by Dr. Bragdonovich in this pointing out that Dr. Malfee needs a strong man like Tony to be happy.
We know that many a marriage is made stupid and painful and joyless to be around and watch by the edict to change. Women marry a man and then go on a campaign to change him which he didn’t understand as part of he marriage vows. The rest of the vows as they are are hard enough what with the woman becoming essentially God, what with no other one and all that, but then be someone else is too much.
The show is about his, Tony’s love and passion for Dr. Malfee, which mirrors in her a love and passion that is for both adolescent, but then wrung out into adult by a deal wherein all it is is that Tony obey the law.
Finally they move to Washington State and deal pot for mental and physical health out of her offices, till it becomes legal.
Happiness? Adult growth? , Love, Change in Society? All of it.
Well you see how Carmella is the same as Livia real;y using Tony and her hatred of him to always get what she wants.
She primes Tony to cut to breath of life off when Chris wrecks the car by pointing out to him how in the movie the position of the Boss is disposed and murdered.
Certainly we know how hopeless it is for Chis to be in the movie business early one shut out by a Wasp Gatekeeper Episcopalian Red Head used to stealing and lying so much he feels the world deserves to give her every passing fancy, and then some.
In the alternate universe like Superman’s Bizzaro land of rock made creatures, Chris and the rest of them all would become Episcopalians, Quakers even, distanced from killing and blood.
In the other TV: Mad Men, what ought there to be? It is a stomach churning bit of rat shit. Now I’m supposed to listen to the voice of John Hamm, and Rodger, Roger? What’s his real name? I know it is John Hamm doing a voice over because on Mad Men he is Don.
I didn’t wan to watch Mad Men because I had worked in New York City making Music Videos and Commercials, and low budget independent features.
I learned lighting because I ran Chelsea Film and Video, the film truck that Bob Lecterman put together. It was a hell of a truck. Like a couple of jobs I wish I could have stayed with it.
People looked down on me because I was a writer too.
I acted too.
The would sneer at me as a “frustrated writer”. I’d been fucked over enough to understand Mario Puzo’s brilliant book about the writing life: FOOLS DIE.
And I’m tough enough to take a lot of insults.
I grew up being under attack from the time I was in the second grade. From 6 and 7 on that time from when we, my family arrived in Elon College North Carolina of the USA and I started 2nd Grade, it was attack after attack and fight after fight.
I described it some in the earlier column these regular TV shows are reminding me of. I am sad that there are some people I didn’t get a chance to defend and help more on outside of my family. I don’t even know who the Black kids of Elon College were.

Blue stand out iridescent blouses on two women in the bar booth in and out with me while I’m looking at contrasts and dark wood in some present past of no need to be in business. Just drink.
Again and again I have explained all of it as my vision I need to share with you and we need to work to make happen because we are threatened now in our lives, and our children in the upcoming one, and what really are we here to do anyway?
So I got a knife to help me think about it. I’m all the way back to making sure I have the one thing that keeps a man alive, which is a sharp thing.
Banging the knife grip on the back of a rock to spark fluff was in the commercial last night. Guy is old and out of matches. Lost his lighter. What the hell rock was that by the road at the beach like the Robert Mitchum movie with the Nun at the island.
But now you need papers. So you need a passport and you need a Transcendian Citizenship Package so you are part of a Traveling Club Nation as soon as you are born, and or as soon as you can think, and whenever you went traveling on your own far from home.
You ought to go fast by airplane and good boat. You ought to be a pilot too.
The rich have club rooms at the airport where you can go and hang out and wait in comfort. Transcendians have to have a good nice office with a window looking out that looks like a mirror and every Embassy service and beyond.
Forget about the third eye stuff I wrote like years ago. You want to know the pilots, and they want to know you.
You two are going to have the same passport wherever you go traveling, traveling or not really. It is about you and all of it.
It used to be an art project, and it still is an art project, but it is a replacement nation because know it by now the United States went off the rails back in Nixon times. What I knew then was bad enough, but now there is more out. Nixon got away with keeping the war in Viet Nam going with backroom offers that were not even lived up to and kept the killing going and going 28 thousand more Americans.
I was working out why to make a better nation then. I’ve been going over the how of it over and over and over since then.
Go to the Wiki and download and print out the passport from the Transcendian wiki Garth made for us.
I really must want to go to the bar and hang out. There were two girls like there are girls who are friends and you re a participant coming and going and not really mattering like how you don’t really matter to Earth. Mother Earth is Father Earth too.
Out on the street I was asking the detective on the street if the guy hinching around was going to get away with it.
“Yeah.”
Back in the bar, nobody cared anymore, it was a forgotten thing. I can’t remember it either now. The girls were wearing similar shirts.

I was like most children in that the world was an out there place till I was put in the Kindergarden. First off Kindergarden was an uncomfortable place. My first delivery there could not have been better directed for the rain was coming down in a thick torrent with thunder and lightening.
The nicest thing I had was my mountain goat colored nap rug. There you go kid! Sleep on the floor. Have a cookie!
Where I was a kid what we did for fu, or to pass the time was just throw rocks at each other, or push each other off a cliff that was conveniently there at the end of the street. A balsa wood airplane launched from up there went far out into the block, where if your friends got it, there was another flight, and if you enemies got it, it was laughingly crushed.
First Grade was a hell of noise and theft and if there was anything taught or learned it was stay out of the path of a wandering Nun, or they would step on you and then hit you with a ruler for being in the way.
When I arrived with two younger sisters and a brother in Elon College the attacks continued and intensified. One kid knelt behind, and the other pushed from the front. The whole time I lived in Elon College North Carolina someone was always sneaking up from behind looking to hit me in the balls. They did that.
It was because I was a Yankee, having been born in White Plains New York.
My father taught Speech and English and had been a combat soldier across France and Germany in the last year of the war in Europe.
He drank a lot, yelled at my mother, hit her during one big fight we all listened to, and was gay. Or anyway he had a boyfriend. Bob was his main guy. They must have met at some bar. Bob worked at some place like General Electric, making typewriters or something. Who knows what happened to the poor guy for they were together for as long as I remember in North Carolina till my Dad, sick an divorced moved to Florida and died.
Dad had another boyfriend named Pete by then. War service was a big thing and they had fought in the same theater.
For long Dad had stopped drinking. He became more and more gay as time had gone on. He was an intelligent man, and good looking, but I don’t know what or when he was much happy.
I can pick out a safe booth in a bar and drink alone to music and watch people. I want to go back to Manhattan and sit at the bar in Grand Central and drink and look down on the scurry.
I studied and performed as a stand-up comic to improve my humor, though really who knows what keeps you feeling humorous?
There are some songs by The Band that capture the jist of things. “Life is a carnival, two bits a shot.” Stage Fright, the song about Stage fright is a good one. Performing live on stage will make you throw up beforewards, and talk and drink too much afterwards. The qualifier is whether you are an extrovert of an introvert or not.
But the other thing is that I myself never felt very safe. A psychologist recently told me it seemed like i might have caught combat fatigue from my father.
You know the common man who was invested in the United States and fought for it in World War II got a lot in return for that work if he survived.
If he survived he was put up in barracks, bought books and sent to whatever college he had good enough grades to get into.
There was peace until the Korean War.

You must carry on in the knowledge and conviction that what we see in our vision is worth sacrifice. There will be beauty and noise if we can get it right. It is our vision. A living organism all around the planet and built sensibly step by step up and down our spaceports on ribbons in the dead zone opposites of the desires of the first generations of captains.
They would have been and were me out there hauling on ropes to pull up and put out sails to run around the world seeing it.
Some of them thought they were doing it for God.
We are human and we have to think like that sometimes.
This is the way to protect us by being just being in the end.
I have been turned for to war and an end of Kim Jong Un. WAr. Somebody called me a war monger. I have got so War made sense because he was saying he wanted to kill me.
Hw just wants food for his people. He wants rice from Arkansas because Clinton like to keep the price of Arkansas rise up we thought forever we would get rice like Haiti!
If Transcendia was given offices at the best North Korean airport we would be all over making it safe for business and that would go on and possibly for sure war would have to be personal.
I don’t think they have enough humor.
I can give up sometimes.