I try to keep up with what’s going on in the UFO field. These days it’s mostly a casual interest.
This wasn’t always so. Once upon a time I came close, very close, to being a published author about UFO’s and abductions. Yesterday I was watching a couple of vids and like always my mind went back to my friend Tiny. We had a relatively short but very powerful friendship. I will never forget her nor will I stop caring deeply for her.
I decided I’d see if I could find her online. It’d been close to a decade since we’d last had a couple of emails and a long time since I’d looked for her. So, I looked. And I was quite shocked and saddened when I found her obituary. She’s gone. She died two years ago. All the rest of the day my stomach felt empty and I felt strangely alone. Damn.
The best way to explain our unusual relationship is to re-publish the story I wrote about her. The short story. It’s called Tiny’s Story. Click the title to read it. I flew all the way from Austin, Texas to Vancouver, Canada to see her and talk about her experiences with… um… you know… aliens. She had one hell of a story to tell, as you’ll read in the story.
Plan was to write her story and publish it as a book. It was sure to be a bit seller. Back then the UFO phenomena and alien abductions were big stuff. So I spent five days with her in VC. What an incredible time it was. Afterwards, back in Texas, we kept in constant touch and I started writing.
Just to get things going I wrote the short story linked to above. I sent it to one of the Big Boys in the field, Fate Magazine. They accepted it! No shit. A stack of rejection letters I had filed away didn’t give me much hope but there it was, an offer to publish. All they needed was an affidavit from Tiny that the story was authentic. That’s when the whole thing went to hell in a hand-basket.
Tiny freaked when I told her I needed the affidavit. She said she couldn’t do it. Then she vanished. No emails, no calls, nothing. I was left holding a useless acceptance, a partial story that had died on the vine, and a heart all twisted from the disappearance of my friend.
More than a year later I managed to get back in touch. I tried to find out where she’d gone. She would not say except that she had been stricken with an illness that almost killed her. We exchanged a few messages and then nothing. Once or twice in the years that passed I managed to get short emails but never got the story of what happened, why she balked, or anything else.
Many was the time I was tempted to scrape up the money to fly to Canada and find her. But life went on and her memory slid back to a comfortable spot in my yesterdays. We were close friends for only a few months but I still miss her very much. I have lots of mementos from my trip to remind me, things she gave me, and of course some very sweet memories.
Of her story, when she freaked and before she disappeared I asked pointedly, “is it all bullshit? Is that it?” She insisted adamantly that it was all true. Sometimes I wonder. You know, I just don’t know. But I think it was. My trip to Vancouver can be described in two words: wonderful and weird. Same with our entire relationship. My life has taken such a strange direction since then. My views have gone even farther afield. My personality hasn’t changed much, I don’t think, but the world view and attitude it’s wrapped in has turned inside out. I think my transformation from hard-core religious right to atheistic skeptic was very much influenced by my incredible friend Tiny.
Tiny was short, quirky, fun, an exquisitely wonderful woman and once, for a short time, my very best friend. Now, she’s gone. She’s the mystery wrapped in an enigma that I will never be able to uncover. So today I say a belated goodbye and deep thanks for all she gave me. Rest in Peace, my dear friend, I will surely miss you still, and forever.
I posted this on A Lonely Life forums. The heading was “Hate Me.” For what it’s not really worth but what the hell, here it is…
NOTE: OK, so I deleted it from the forum but whatever…
Blue October. I love those guys! They so speak to me!
OK, so here’s the thing. I’m just all fucked up. Always have been. Oopsidoop kind’a nailed a big part of the reason in her post about being a bit too attached.
Ever since I was a kid taking crap from bullies most every day and coming home to a family who didn’t have a clue and who at times threw the same things at me that I got at school I did not, like many kids in that situation, get bitter. Instead I developed an incredible sensitivity to suffering people. I never understood why bullies are bullies. Still don’t. I have always identified with the victims.
For decades I was on a quest to find out why. Just why. WHY?! And what I could do about it. I could write a book about the times I either started up or was involved in efforts to help people. Every time I crashed and burned. Bam! The way people acted, what they said contradicted what they did. It’s probably my fault in the end that everything went to shit but still I did all I could.
I have studied in great depth many, many subjects that most people run from or hide their eyes from. I had two classes on Nazi Germany/holocaust. I studied satanism. I’ve been personally involved in an assortment of dealings with demonology. Once I worked for a christian counselor friend as his office manager. His special clients were satanic ritual abuse victims. On top of what I already knew about the incredible cruelty of nations, dictators and despots I learned about things humans do to humans that I simply cannot tell anyone. These were not the kinds of things one hears or reads about, they were case histories about the deepest levels of horror reality. When my wife and I became foster parents I dug into child abuse and was horrified to discover how some humans destroy their own children. What I’ve learned has so fucked up my head it just ain’t funny.
In the world outside my window I’ve seen bullies and fools run right over everyone else and take power. I’ve stood with my hands in the air trying to figure out how the public can be so blind and stupid. My generation failed miserably, chasing a buck or wallowing in entertainment that has taught them and their kids and their kids’ kids the worst kind of nasty shit. Courtesy, friendliness, kindness, respect, all gone. My wife and I are complimented so many times about our kids simply because they know how to say yes ma’am and yes sir and thank you. They are polite. What a horrid, nasty attitude people have. No wonder so many young folks show up here.
I cannot understand humanity. I’ve been married to my wife for over thirty years. I know her extremely well. I can taste something or see something and know precisely how she will react to it. But still how her head works is a puzzle. Because I cannot fathom how people think, why they say one thing and do another, how they will react, I have always fucked up.
I have never once given a damn for my own safety, pleasure, or financial status. Who knows how much money I’ve put into efforts. I never counted myself important. That’s pretty much why I’m stuck where I am with nothing.
For too many years my quest to save the world over-rode everything and I failed in being a steady provider. But that wasn’t all. I refused to compromise ethics and what is right. I’ve walked away from crooked employers. I filed a complaint about a supervisor who was a bully and incredibly cruel to people in our unit. One of my co-workers wound up having a nervous break down because of it. Being ordinary humans they did not in the least have the guts to stand up to her and when I did I was framed and summarily pushed out. …I could tell other stories, too, with similar endings. Bullies win because the majority kow-tow to them. Whatever it costs, I’ll never hit my knees or give in to them.
I’ve always been good at my job and I’ve had lots of jobs, so many that most people think I’m full of shit when I tell all I’ve done to earn a buck. If you’re curious I’ll give you the link to my blog. Anyway, I can DO a lot of things. Like that matters. I’m not working now because in ’03 we took in foster kids and my boss fired me for asking off to take the kids to the doctor. Another story for another time. I became full time foster parent, hell of a job for a forty-something who has never even been a babysitter.
Since then I’ve been “blessed” with physical ailments that severely limit my ability to do any kind of steady work. In this market, at my age, with my disabilities, I don’t have a prayer’s chance in hell to find work. I’m a good writer and have sold pieces, too, but everybody with a keyboard thinks they’re a good writer so the market is way over saturated and nobody is making money at writing unless they know someone or are a celebrity. So, I am unable to contribute to our household budget. This just makes the shit in my head worse.
I have never written all this out before and probably will not ever again. I will regret it. But it’s cathartic so here it is. Critique away.
I have always been plagued with two deficiencies. Although I can write a short story to make people laugh or cry, in general conversation I have found it impossible to convey what I think or feel without someone taking it the wrong way. Some on this forum have concluded a few things I wrote were meant unkindly but they were not. The other deficiency, related to this, is that in my experience people tend to judge superficially, or mis-judge, and leave me in the dust. I’ve become a bit paranoid, expecting to be criticized when I really mean no harm.
How or why people accept others is beyond my comprehension. I tried most of my life to “live up” to certain expectations. I put on the plastic face as best I could. It rarely worked but I played the game. But then, a few years ago, I said, “Fuck that!” Why should I play the stupid game? Even if someone became my friend because of my plastic face then I’d have to glue the damn thing on. I looked inside myself, figured out who I am, and I’ve been me ever since. I make no apologies for who I am, what I think or believe, how I live, or how I look. I’m genuine, I’m real, and what you see is what you get. This has not endeared me to plastic people… which is the majority of people I’ve known.
Christians constantly blather about how atheists have no moral standards or do not live by any ethics. That is bullshit. My atheist/free thinking online ‘friends’ are screaming about injustice, war, etc., while the religious nuts hate the poor and promote war. I believe in the value of the human race. I believe in the value of life. I don’t subscribe to bullshit religious rules that mean little even to those who promote them. Instead I respect every human, no matter who they are. Some things, many things, people do is horrible, but the person, the life, is valuable. I respect laws designed to keep us safe. Basically I am a nice guy. My wife has seen all my incarnations and even though she’s entirely puzzled about what goes on in my head she has stuck beside me all these years. She knows I am troubled but she does not know why, and does not want to know, and I wouldn’t tell her if she asked. What I know would fuck up her head. But she knows my heart. Nobody else does, with one exception, a young friend who is too much like me for his own good but too far away to spend time with.
I’ve been thinking about all this shit for a few days. I debated on laying it all out. But there seems to be a few here, at least, that might in some ways identify. Most won’t. But one of my other quirks has been saying too much, telling too much, putting people off. Whatever. I have nothing to hide.
The last thing I have to say is to the many young people on this forum. You should not disregard the advice or views of older folks. We’ve been on the planet long enough to pick up a lot of information by default. It’s true many of my generation and the older ones are full of shit. So am I sometimes. But we have been there, we’ve watched the world go to hell in a gunboat. We can give you a few pointers. Respect the elderly, they’ve paid their dues.
Another thing, when you’re twenty or twenty five and “different,” when you are stuck in an apartment alone or can’t figure out what life is about never forget that as long as you are breathing and are fairly healthy, you can do something. You can figure out who you are and be yourself. You can chose to be not necessarily “better” but more aware and more determined. Don’t run to shrinks or pop pills to fix your head. Figure your head out and learn to control it and move forward. But you have to have guts. You have to have a lot of guts. I’m not talking about walking over other people, I’m just talking about stepping out and being a part of the human race, learn to forgive, learn to keep your mouth shut sometimes, learn when to speak up, and for heavens sake don’t fall into a pity party and sit around waiting for someone to feel sorry for you. They won’t.
OK, that’s it. I feel better now, for a while. Take what I said however you want to. Like the song says, “hate me,” if you like. But I sure as hell do not want pity. I showed up here because there are times hanging around this house alone all day drives me up the wall. A friend with whom I can talk freely about the shit in my head is all I’ve ever wanted. Ever. Otherwise, life is just peachy.
Have a happy day! Time for a smoke…
When you don’t have the money to do things fancy you have to make do with what you have. That’s the story of my life. With the non-profit and all that went with it in the toilet it became time to do something to earn my keep around the house. I’ve been working on several projects in the past few weeks. One of the plans we made is to create a hydroponics system to get us some veggies. I decided to start that project with a small system built on the side of my shop. I built a little shelter using small timber I cut from our clearing some land. Before winter I plan on finishing it out to a greenhouse. For now it serves to protect the little project from harsh weather.
The shelter roof is supported by two cedar posts. Cedar does not rot like other types of trees. I made the roof using oak logs. For the support slats I ripped a couple of old 2×4’s. The only thing I had to buy was some plastic for the cover.
Next I installed a water line and an old kitchen sink I had lying around. The waterline was a bitch since the ground was hard packed and very dry clay. It took hours to put the line in the ground four inches! I did have to buy a couple of pipe fittings but most everything else I either scrounged or cannibalized from somewhere else.
The hydroponics system is also built from scrounged stuff. It consists of a primary water barrel, a flat water trough, a collecting barrel, and a little pump to cycle the water. I fill the barrel with water, trickle it through the trough, collect the water in the old barrel, and pump it back to the primary water storage. I
hope to collect rain water from the roof when I can afford some gutters to install. Of course it has to rain, too, and that’s not been happening!
I used the extra plastic left over from the roof/wall to line the trough. It has one tiny leak in it from a screw sticking up through the old plywood I missed but otherwise it works fine. I used a couple of pipe fittings for the drain. The way to make a drain out of such a pan is to get two threaded fittings, a male and a female. Cut a hole the size of the mail threaded fitting. Put it through from the bottom and screw the female fitting on tight. Use some silicon to make it seal. Bingo. Works very well.
The barrel I used for water storage was one left over from our water supply back when we lived in a cabin out here and did not have water down here. We had a series of barrels tied together which collected rain water. Sometimes I had to haul water in. Anyway, the barrel already had a tap at the bottom. I put a water valve on it and created a drip line across the upper end of the trough. The drip line was made from part of a washing machine drain and an old piece of plastic pipe. I elevated the trough at the upper end where the drip is just slightly to help the water flow towards the drain. Once upon a time I made an aquarium out of the bottom half of a barrel. We took it out but still had it lying around the place so I used it to collect the water from the trough. I scrounged an old pump to return water from the collection barrel to the storage barrel.
Once I had the system working it was time to put some plantings in it. I needed pea gravel to put in the trough but couldn’t afford it so I used some flat pieces of broken cinder blocks to support a piece of chicken wire. That would hold the planters off the bottom. For the planters I had a pile of short pieces of large pipe we once used in the garden. (Another story!) The pipe pieces were from 2″ to 5″ pipe and about 3″ long. I cut squares of vinyl screen and fastened them over one end of the pipe. Some of them I used tape and then tried rubber bands to hold the screen on. Both works. I’m a bit worried the rubber bands will rot and break but hoping they will hold until the plants come up. I filled the containers with garden soil from a bag we had already. I put the planters on the chicken wire. We bought some seed and I sewed the seed in the planters.
I could never be a farmer. I hate waiting! Will this contraption work? Beats the hell out of me. We’ll see! My life is trial and error, lots of both! One thing I do know. I’m going to be fucked up for weeks from screwing up the nerve problem in my back finishing this thing. I will enjoy my new creation through blinding pain as I take hand-fulls of Gabapentin and Ibuprofen! Yay!
I often ask myself why I do this shit. I suppose it’s the masochist streak in me. And I’m bored to death with the computer and I have nothing else to do. And maybe the damn thing will actually work and we’ll have some tomatoes, cucumbers and squash in the dead of winter. Ya think? I have stuck in a few more pictures just for grins.
We’re talking Friday the THIRTEENTH spillover here!
Last evening the floor in our bathroom was wet. At first we thought my little daughter, often given to playing with water, had dumped some water on the carpet. I put down some towels. Went to bed around twelve, give or take. Around one I was up to tinkle. The floor was WETTER. Crap! Only one thing could cause that. Water heater! Continue reading