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There's a new development in my health that you may notice from my newest pictures. I have a rare, almost harmless, freckle behind one of my eyes that has become noticeable. I now feel like the king of rare afflictions, as my finger eczema, pair of big bone islands on one hip, and my knee bioscrew never dissolving until twenty years later are rare as well. Now the diagnosis of diabetes in 2015 is unfortunately all too common.
Also around 2015 was the first time I considered myself disabled. As I said on the front page here, "I was told directly I would remain in a state mental hospital until I accepted Social Security support..." and "I reacted with public protest, and they asked for court mandated psychiatric evaluations ..." Obviously, from reading this website, I don't fit into the DSM-5 (diagnosis manual), but in my opinion, I now have a physical disability that does keep me from employment. My finger eczema has reached the level of hypersensitivity and blisters under the nail to so many triggers I'm sure I'd now find it impossible to work for more than a single day. It used to be my fingertips, but medicine now protects them or the malady has changed course. In previous years I used to canvas this website on the street occasionally, but now that's not advisable.
I've also started medicines due to pain from one of the bone islands (more details here). On the left you can see the benign tumor circled, and on the other MRI you can see the same tumor goes through to the surface of the bone on both sides. Usually bone islands are completely imperceptible, but in this case I believe the rougher surfaces are bothering the muscles over them in a spot that has tremendous leverage on the rest of my gait.
My fingers have gone through several stages since foreign matter, introduced into my right index finger at a very young age, when I checked the tension on my bicycle chain and ran the sprocket through the nail, began to dissolve. At first, in the early '90s, at around age 30, I had a repeating blister on that finger and I began to have headaches that eventually lasted about sixteen years.
Gradually, probably in 2000, I began to see blisters on the other fingers. In 2009 I was forced out of work because they started to react severely to the ammonia cleaners I needed to use in my Patient Care Assistant (PCA) work. A couple of years later I saw a little spot that looked like oil come out through my finger nail. At that point the headaches and the repeating blister began to disappear, but the other fingers remained very prone to blisters for all sorts of triggers. I live in a public housing apartment, and on weekends my neighbors have guests. I get worse hand problems every weekend from the added number of people using the doors and buttons.
I'm also an unusual veteran. I served state-side during the Grenada conflict. An Airborn Ranger I was introduced to during a break in live-fire training was injured, and I now assume died on that island. When I was discharged, the barrack was emptied (and I mean emptied) ostensibly for logistic reasons, but it placed me in some form of missing man formation.
I made my mark for a bunch of reasons. In a yearly two-mile running test of half of my battalion, I was the second fastest, but I lost to the only Sargent to race, so I might have been the fastest for my classification.
One day while training with another group of Airborn Rangers one of my peers found and killed a large garden snake. I decided it looked better than the ham in a can in front of me, and the Rangers confirmed it was edible. However, after I cooked it up two ways in a soup and fried, no one wanted any, despite the absolute deliciousness of my efforts.
Earlier, I was invited to the U.S. Military Academy Prepratory School (USMAPS). I was too old for the school, but we reasoned maybe Westpoint needed an alternate. My captain approved my application, but I never heard back.
I also played on the quasi-Fort's soccer team in the civilian league. My team won the championship, although they were all close games, and I was the star defense player.
Another time, I was asked to qualify on a grenade launcher, and I broke the giant cement target that stood for years, as well as making all my other shots. I looked around at the seventy five or so others struggling that day to see if I was being 'put on', but the others were obviously a random selection. I had a natural ability on that particular weapon, not unrelated to my shooting .22s as a kid in summer camp, or my complete command of street hockey lob shots.
On weekends, I spent every Saturday at the base's synagogue praying. I also spent a lot of time in the non-alcohol topless bars in Tacoma at the time. Same thing, right?
At my last assignment my silent respect for the Ayatollah Khomeni had caught up with me. I was obviously hated by several of the higher ranks, and got depressed by them at times. I broke regulations and went to a massage parlor. When I walked out one of the new officers in charge suspiciously drove by, and I thought I'd be charged. I wasn't, and never went back, but got in trouble for extra duty once or twice. Finally, while on crutches and after appearing for a head count, I was recalled after hobbling up two flights of stairs in pain. I refused the order, and ended up with a "General Discharge under Honorable Conditions."
My training was as a Fire Support Specialist, which was similar to being a scout, mostly working with the artillery. A challenge with the job was being asked to work as an individual much more than most soldiers. When I got to my first assignment, I saw a list of bars 'off-limits' the night after hoping bars by myself. Later, when I was moved a few barracks down, the list was different, and different again the next reassignment. That first weekend I said to myself I was lucky for not getting caught unknowingly violating the rules, but later felt they were all forged.
First Attempt for publicity placed in the Boston Pheonix in 1987Here's a bit of a timeline after high school. First, I was "homeless, and exposed to the cold (hospitalized in an elite private clinic, released after several months without a false diagnosis or medicines)...," and after I joined the Army. After my discharge I went to UMass and graduated with a Bachelor's in Journalism. Immediately after I started publicizing against war, and got stuck near Cape Cod without work for years. During that time I wrote creative material, and got arrested at least seven times standing for what I believe in. No arrests for fights, but false testimonies, false arrest, etc., never leading to any convictions. The chants against Plymouth Police, I started in response to mistreatments, weren't accepted as true prophecy by enough of the courts, press, government, etc., to prevent my commitment to a mental hospital. Three officers on separate occasions had pretended not to know me after my canvas of about 500 homes in the immediate area two years before, a strong newspaper ad in The Boston Pheonix, campaigns at local colleges, a solicitation permit in Miami Beach, and more. My poverty level was legislated as prohibited from release, and therefore I was coerced to accept disability money.
I took some of my first retroactive payment, and went to Israel until my money ran out.
I spent all my schooling in Needham from Kindergarten through High School. My town had some hidden dirt-bike tracks and I got my first motorcycle, a 50cc, at about age fourteen. Earlier, I lived next door to a veterinarian, and was brought to his office as his 'junior assistant' during school vacations a couple of times. My parents divorced when I was about fifteen, and I rebelled ferociously. Nearly my first act was to get a puppy, which unfortunately I didn't train. I'd become friends with the family of a big award-winning kennel, so I ended up bringing her to boarding school there. First, I learned everything she learned separately, and then together. I ended up with a great dog, and a life-long skill. I also began working very early, at the expense of my studies, in restaurants and machine shops mostly. I was an excellent worker by the time of my missed graduation, and a poor one when I reached graduation. I'd quit school at sixteen, but went back the next year. I didn't take to alcohol, but found marijuana very helpful. I've learned the tiredness after is similar to the anti-cholenergic effects of some safe medicines, and without that knowledge my maturity was incomplete.
I've got two lofty goals.
The first, is to return the U.S. to the ideals our founders tried to instill. The dominant political parties have again outlived their viability. They must be dissolved, or reorganized and renamed, to bury the atrocious shame they've brought on us. They consider themselves spiritually superior to their predecessors, whom dissolved gracefully. Their dangerous confusions start with the criminal status of safe recreational drugs, and end with the attack or destruction of well intentioned, sovereign nations.
The second goal, as I stated above, is to change my religion. This is my proposal. Did you know that the Book of Isaiah can be seen as a braid of several themes? When the prose is unbraided, points about the messiah or prophet Jeshurun are found. His native tongue isn't Hebrew, and he has trouble speaking in the language (28:11). He will form a branch of Judaism likely to swallow or influence all the other branches (11:1).
Marriage Prophecy (a.k.a. total confusion)|
I think this should be a new branch of theology, since all the future prophecies about marriage are in one area of the Old Testament, and ambiguous.
They're in Isaiah, and around my descriptions. Reading one way shows me excluded from marriage, as if to say, you've been awarded in here, and now other prophets will have blessings specific to each. That interpretation says I'm single my whole life, but in a surprising way with a miracle attached. Those marriages may correspond to three prophets.
Another interpretation has the reader believing in my future marriages, plural. Chapter 54 of Isaiah mentions two women in a braid of themes, with some possibility of polygamy.
Reading Isaiah a third way associates me with just one wife, encrypted in Chapter 29 as the description of a city. The encryption there is strong. I don't think casual readers can see the description of a city as a wife whatsoever.
Finding the last interpretation involves a Prophet unnamed in Isaiah, but reintroduced famously through a contact or two with me.
If Chapter 54 turns out to be true to me, my first significant-other might or might not be Jewish, but the second 'wife' is absolutely, and she is guaranteed to have at least one child.
Minecraft Waterfall House|
I went on a walkabout to find a horse after finding two saddles in an abandoned mine, got lost too far south, and found this area. After getting home, I chopped down a long twisty dirt road and got back here with a horse in about a month. What you can't see is the two other waterfalls facing the other direction, and a fourth around the corner to the left. I'd never played PC games until I discovered Minecraft in Fall 2014. Even though this house is very simple, I like the way it fits with the surroundings. There's a Nether Portal in the open basement I can take a horse or mule into to get back to the farms.
The Lord reigneth fire unto the earth, God shall reign down in a mighty thunder, That destroyeth a thousand in it's path. My Lord shall be heard in the four corners, My Lord shall speak unto the isles, All the inhabitants in the path shall know My wrath. My Lord shall crash asunder those of evil, My Lord shall command no heretics, My Lord shall have His way. No more shall man be feared in his daily life, The downtrodden shall be heard, And those that cause affliction shall be as chaff in the wind. The Lord is forgiving and kind unto these days, Then shall the Lord weave a path, And evil shall no longer flee, And the heretic shall no longer find a place. The lights shall turn out on your ways, No more shall you know the lusts of another way. O' Lord, Thou art my place, Thou art my pulse and my breath, My soul as a servant of Your truth, May I be confident and sure in Your blessings.