Sayonara, Newt!!!

Click on the image to blow up larger, then again, if you still can't read it.

First, zeesa pesach, Jews and jews (such as myself)!!!

Now, let's get busy and let Newt Gingrich be passed over today. The image above is a scan of a photocopy of my letter to Newt, that I sent him 21 years ago. In Stone Mountain, at that time, we had Congressman Cooter (Ben Jones who played Cooter on The Dukes of Hazzard), and since he had a bit of an alcohol problem then, I didn't trust him to deal with drugs. Newt always pretended he was against them. his congressional district was just south of Atlanta.

Shortly after I hand-delivered this letter to Newt's office manager in his then-congressional district (Interesting fact: Newt's pipe-smoking office manager and several other Republican aides-to-Congresspeople I met, all drove Lincoln Town Cars bearing the Southern Lincoln Mercury logo, as did many mafia types I had trouble with back then -- keep that in mind as you read the letter.) and was almost immediately held in jail for a total of 15 weeks by a judge who, in an empty court room, did not allow me to defend myself -- Judge Linda Warren Hunter (still on the bench, now promoted to Superior Court Judge), on charges that were trumped up and pressed by Lawrence Buchthal, my former employer at Mama Mia's Pasta & Pizza on Main St. in Stone Mountain. Interestingly, his brother Stanley Buchthal, produced the original 1989 John Waters' film, HAIRSPRAY, one of my favorite films of all time. That dealership disappeared years ago, but was on Scott Boulevard, across from where Church Street dumps into it.

Also, I was always totally certain of the drugs, and even followed one of the food delivery trucks to the Krystal hamburger joint on Memorial Drive, where packages were unloaded at about midnight (it was open late hours), then about 18 "customers" who had gathered inside and who had bought nothing, approached the front counter and were given Krystal bags, presumably containing drugs.

I later wrote Krystal's headquarters about this, and a month later received a written reply thanking me for my concern, stating they had investigated and found nothing. There was a coupon included for a few hamburgers, which I'm sure I used -- I always loved their little burgers.

Tee-Vee, or NOT Tee-Vee???

First of all, it turned out that the TV talk show whose host might want to interview me is actually not on TV, but on YouTube – which can be a very powerful thing or a complete dead end, but the host just began it three weeks ago, and he’s very enthusiastic about having me on in two to three weeks. He’s a playwright whose work has been performed at Thalian Hall (the most “serious” of the local theaters), and he wants to get a TV show interviewing people in the arts.

Last night, he interviewed Steve Fox about a book on Isabella Rossellini (Ingrid Bergman’s daughter), is big promoter of the Cucalorus Film Festival here (now designated one of the top ten independent film festivals in the US), is filming a documentary on the filming of the movie BLUE VELVET (I dated a musician in 1985 who lived in the Carolina Apartments then – the sign then covered with a sign “Deep River Apartments” as they used the building in the film – it was where star Isabella Rossellini’s character lived. This musician had once been Thomas S. Kenan III's boyfriend). The building overlooks Kenan Plaza and Kenan Fountain, the heart of the historic district. William R. Kenan Jr. originally built the Carolina Apartments, which were, at the time they were built, the most luxurious and technologically advanced apartments in North Carolina.

I wonder when and where all these peculiar connections I seem to find, end?

Steve is also encouraging a guy in Texas to bring here and develop his musical-theater adaptation of BLUE VELVET, if you can imagine that!!! Anyway, I had a long talk with him and some of his friends after the taping of the show last night, and hope to get involved. One thing’s for sure: My surname, regardless the distance in blood I have from the powerful branch of the family, turns heads and gets attention. I figure with that, my Williams association and book, my height and resonant voice, I can become a very influential advocate for the arts here in Wilmington – and then I DO know Tom Kenan directly and indirectly, as well, although in the world of Kenan, all things must always prove muster on their own. Best thing about the powerful Kenans is that the blood is not so important – it is the worth of the ideas.

This morning I talked to Mom, and mentioned that I had written Jane, asking for clarification. She had last written me that I would always be welcome in her house as long as I was on “my medication.” Well, in the last 6 weeks, I’ve had evaluations by three mental healthcare professionals (one of them saw me once a week over four weeks in jail), and all decided I did not need continuing psychological counseling or medication. I agreed with the last one that I HAD in years past had what could only be called Bipolar Disorder and exhibited destructive, strong mania at times, the last time probably being 1990. Lithium certainly had worked to stabilize me – and that all but guarantees that it actually WAS BD.

BUT, since then, I’ve studied deeply in metaphysics, primarily Science of Mind, and learned how to use This Thing we call God to co-heal myself with God – and it apparently is working, although the remission time has only been about 15 years so far. Now, I know that many readers of this would disagree, and would say I was quite manic in the last 1.5 years. We examined that very carefully in my evaluation last week, and decided that my apparent mania was actually my distracted reaction to a long series of very serious harassments (including seven attempts to commit me to mental hospitals, three poisonings, and three severe beatings that were STATED intentions to murder me but I relaxed, found opportunities, and escaped with serious bruises but not even one broken bone), brought on by my insistence of confronting those who wanted to control me with the truth (as I saw it).

Most interesting to me in my conversation with Mom this morning, was that she said Jane might not yet have answered because Jane is very “put out” with me for causing her trouble. Of my very immediate family, I probably caused Jane the least trouble, and we hardly had a shouted word with each other. I mentioned that I had not really heard from Mike in half a year (actually, an exaggeration), and Mom said I had caused the entire family an awful lot of trouble. But I pointed out to her that the family continues to work jobs that put food on the table, etc., and enjoys many luxuries. Even Jane, who probably makes the least money, has a kitchen and refrigerator crowded with great little gourmet foods and such from Costco – I sure hope she appreciates that. I probably caused some embarrassment by telling the truth about the past – and my recounting of presumably Dad’s, and definitely Mike’s and Connor’s histories of at least SOME homosexual activity (approximately 2/3 of adult men in America admit in anonymous surveys to at least one experience of homosexual sex to orgasm, so this ONLY proves they are average or typical).

WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL, PEOPLE???

Well, there are the swastikas and the beatings. Julie’s allegations that Dad did sexually inappropriate things to her, etc. At least I am asking the questions, and I will continue to do so, regardless anyone’s opinions of me being “mentally ill” for doing it. If anyone can provide a different, truthful explanation for any of these things, I’d like to hear it and will publish it – but it must be truthful. According to Yeshua-the-Jew, “Ye shall know the Truth and the Truth will set you free.” There are layers of meaning to this, but each works. When you feel freedom surging within you when you ponder an idea, you know you have hit on some aspect of Truth – whether it can be proven in a court of law or not.

Mom says I threw so much of my trouble at people in the family. First of all, no one had to react to my words or ideas – and no one did, except to go “ballistic,” deny my allegations, and to in any way support of me (Oppermans are excluded here)! Mom only paid me gas money to return from Mexico so she could more easily get me into a mental institution or at least heavily medicated – even very recently, she STILL wanted me to apply for permanent disability. I am VERY ABLED!!! Not ONE of you paid the $350.00 bail to get me out of jail where I remained for 28 days, causing my financial situation to deteriorate even further – which each of you KNOWS had to happen. You seemed to take pleasure in this. Seemed. When I got out, the THIRD person I asked for a job gave me one, on the second day I was searching. I could have done that 28 days earlier, and had I, I would not have to have had to spend three days first getting over the shock – not so much of having been in jail – but of the hateful words and actions of my immediate relatives. This only applies to my parents and siblings. As I’ve always made clear, no one else was under any kind of “moral obligation” to assist me, and I did that DELIBERATELY to pressure and test those who sit in their comfortable homes with jobs that pay tier bills and buy Costco treats. Between the five of you, only $70.00 each would have gotten me out to work and re-join productive society.

And the “crime” conviction will likely be thrown out on constitutional grounds, sparing my accuser further embarrassment. In any case, I’m not guilty of having broken the law – which I explained fully to all of you time and time again – yet you persisted in turning me the coldest shoulder imaginable, because you refuse to accept the truth about our family – NOT that I am correct about all I have deduced – BUT (again), NO ONE provides a believable different explanation.

No one.

Can you? (parent or sibling with courage enough to have read this far)

Enough for today. I’ll leave my immediate relatives in greater and greater peace as I go forward. I just want to be perfectly clear about why I hold you in the regard that I do. You know in your hearts what is true, and someday, you, too, will find your own healing. I know the truth about you: you are always the perfect opportunity for the greater expression of God in this world. When you know it too, I am going to throw a party that would catch the eye even of the Pembroke Joneses!

(For those who don’t know, Mr. and Mrs. Pembroke Jones owned one of the finest Italianate homes in Wilmington, as well homes other places, including their marble palace in Newport, RI, where their lavish parties – the most lavish were thrown to honor their longtime friend, Mary Lily Kenan Flagler, then the wealthiest widow on earth – inspired the phrase “Keeping up with the Jones.” Living and always traveling, house-to-house, with Pembroke and his wife, always, was Pembroke’s male lover. This fact was widely known at the time.)

Scott

Getting My Just Desserts!!!

What do you do when you’ve allowed, through compassion, an apparently bipolar person – who won’t shut up about how everyone abuses him and how he has to shut them down through prosecutions – and a drug addict are living in your house, and neither one of them (despite their continuing fall-through schemes to contribute money), comes up with money? Not only that, but both were so spoiled growing up (privileged, wealthy backgrounds) that they haven’t a clue how to use the little they have or occasionally come into, wisely? Both are bedeviled by pretzel logic that permeates almost every level of their thinking.

Sound familiar?

The Sneeden (see previous post for details) is the beneficiary of a couple of trust funds – one gives a smallish cash income, monthly, the other is a huge land-holding trust which the Sneeden expects he’ll come into control of very shortly, given the very poor health of his mother. The “radiohead’s” father (now deceased) owned an oil company in western PA. Both are estranged from their families, who won’t put up with them anymore.

The radiohead tells me in strictest confidence (the Sneeden won’t tell me of his diagnosis or that we “share” a doctor, or that my public defender is also his – long story, too long to tell here), that not only was the Sneeden diagnosed bipolar several years ago, and recently sought out a doctor who prescribed Lithium which had previously stabilized him enough to stop fixating on all the “slights” against him, but is the SAME doctor I had consulted here in Wilmington. All three of us hold her in the highest regard. But he ain’t atakin’ the Lithium, while telling his girlfriend radiohead he is. (We monitor his giant capsule bottle, which he keeps hidden, he thinks) He looks for work every day, religiously, but despite his considerable track record of excellent work, no one will take him to the interview phase because he has spent so much of his recent time telling everyone how he’s going to prosecute his slighters, and they fear his causing them trouble over the tiniest thing. He HAS caused people legal and other trouble for unimportant things.

Radiohead has the perfect voice and CONSTANT jabber personality for radio work, and has the resume to prove her distinction as a DJ. The powerful people she knows here in radio won’t help her get a new job because she let them know she’s back with the Sneeden, whom they consider poison. Her addiction to pain pills is understandable, given the deteriorated disks in her back. She actually manages it quite well. But both were locked out of a new apartment two weeks ago when the landlord, who was going to give free rent in exchange for the Sneeden’s doing some land-use-planning work for him, decided for whatever reason to renege. Landlord has run off to Israel for two weeks, and most of their belongings remain locked away – including radiohead’s pain pills and asthma inhalers – but not the Sneeden’s Lithium. Radiohead does not have the Medicaid credits (or whatever) left this month to replace them, and Ms. Asthma is also a nicotine addict. I cut her off a couple of days ago from my cigs, and now she’s smoking “ducks” (unfinished cigarettes she finds in the streets), between hacks.

Both have food stamps, which they use to buy us food. They are NOT simply leaches, although their constant buying of name-brand liter sodas and tiny-pack snacks and other prepared foods annoys the crap out of me because it wastes those government dollars that could buy far less expensive REAL food.

Both spend the bulk of their time watching old movies and “The Tudors” (he’s high Episcopalian, she Jewish) on my TV, which their makeshift beds lie in front of.

I interrupt this writing to go buy a pack of cigarettes.

Today, I’m hocking my new Panny plasma TV. I need the cash to catch up utilities, get a NC drivers’ license, and download many important papers and contacts from me.com’s cloud (I have to pay $100.00 to renew my subscription). I hate the 22% interest PER MONTH, but if the Sneeden really does get a monthly check in two weeks, I can get it back. Meantime, the lack of TV will force them to have to THINK.

The Sneeden was the first person I met in Wilmington when I moved here, and ran into him only once before finding the two of them sitting homeless on the street 10 days ago. Both are brilliant (beneath the madness), and I’m hoping I can influence them toward sanity. So far, although we’ve had some doozies of arguments, they are showing significant signs of improvements. I am tying to show the patience I wish my own family had had for me recently – and trust that in a decent environment with the basic necessities provided, they will come to their senses.

Now, here’s what’s new with me:

Since filing the appeal of my juryless conviction of “Cyber-stalking,” I have had little harassment by “thugs” or the corrupt contingent of Wilmington Police. Only twice have I caught vans from Good Shepherd (homeless) Center idling in front of my house as if surveilling me. While I’ve seen signs that I’m still cell-tower triangulated so that my adversaries know where I go, they no longer show up in my path and cause me difficulties, although I DO still get weird texts relating to the content of phone calls, web browsing, and emails sent – right after those activities. I still suspect some of my emails don’t always go where sent and my phone calls to those who can actually help me take at least two tries to get a call through – no problems calling other people. I do NOT get all the voicemails some people say they left me. This is diminishing.

I was asked yesterday to lead the next adult Sunday school class (on fasting), which is funny since I am ANTI-fasting now, trying to regain the 80 pounds I lost during five months of being homeless, which includes the month I was held in what legally qualifies as “kidnapped” in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico by “Baby Azteca” (formerly the top killer for the top drug gang in Los Angeles, whom the CIA had pulled strings to dismiss his three murder charges and other felonies, and whisked to Mexico to kill those threatening the drug traffic there. Readers of this blog might remember that I had narrowly escaped the house on Calle Coast Rico the day he swore he was going to cut my juggler one night, while making me eat the neck of a chicken that had not had that giant blood vessel removed first). I don’t even believe in the value of fasting – but studying the concept might clear my head. Will be interesting, in any case.

I have become discriminating, and no longer tell my political tales to people who clearly look like they like illegal drugs – and speak gingerly to those who look like they are Republicans (more than half the white people, but almost no people of color – and few at my church, regardless). Everyone LOVES my stories, and often rope in nearby friends to hear them too. Yes, this includes clearly successful-by-anyone’s-measure people. Actually, they, especially, like what I have to say and I promise to do as I go forward.

I have been asked to speak at a story-telling hour in a bookstore, which I’ll do soon.

This week, I am to meet with someone, I am told, would like to interview me on his TV show. We’ll see.

I learned by speaking with a clutch of marauding UNCW students that one of their favorite professors is teaching a class next semester exclusively on Tennessee Williams. I plan to meet him soon. I expect to talk to his class, and maybe share my manuscript, but it might even lead to UNC Press’s publication. Being a shirttail Kenan, I had hoped to first make some money for UNC, and a year ago, right after release of my rights by Alyson Books, had attempted to interest them in profiting from publishing my book, but back then I still had a “small head” and had contacted someone low in authority. After a month, she responded that their policy is to NOT publish the memoirs of living people, but I found on their list of published books that this is not entirely true – and – while I am living, the book’s subject matter is not. It might warrant a new try, especially if I have inside help of UNC faculty.

Don Weise, who had shepherded my book so brilliantly and sensitively at Alyson, has NOT responded to my emails or voicemail offering him the opportunity to publish it at his new company, Magnus Books. This lack of respect of even sending a turndown is either an indication that my suspicions he was part of the problem I had at Alyson are true, John Uecker’s wild claim that Don had deliberately tanked one of his former employers, publisher Carroll & Graf, by paying a half million dollar advance to a well-respected author (whom I know personally and who will remain anonymous) for a commercial dog of a book – thus deliberately killing that publishing house, OR he does not get my email and voicemail (really, folks, this is possible). Maybe he was leveraged.

Hansen Publishing, a newish publisher who has published more books on Tennessee Williams than any other subject, turned me down this past Friday, claiming they have too many projects in the pipeline now. Maybe this is true, maybe not, but at the installation of Tennessee in the Poet’s Corner at Cathedral St. John Divine in NYC 1.5 years ago, it was Thomas Keith who introduced me to Mr. Hansen, and while Thomas has done some truly wonderful things for both Tennessee Williams and me, when push came to shove, Thomas clearly was a conscious actor AGAINST both of us. So I do have my suspicions about this.

There are other publishers, and the truth always wins. I don’t worry.

Yesterday afternoon, I met and spoke with a woman for 20 minutes, whose son began a think tank on Ethics in Washington, DC about eight years ago -- and it is doing well. He is a personal friend of Thomas S. Kenan III, who, through one of the Kenan Charitable Trusts he controls, is financially supporting this think tank!

I found a professional foot massager who knows how to work with diabetic problems, and who says I am now family (after attending her garden party and yacking politics half of yesterday afternoon with her and her other guests). She says she can work on me for free a little before I get money. (Edema in my feet and ankles has returned with a vengeance, although I believe the “chemical diabetes” I’ve suffered in my lower limbs is overall diminishing.) I’ll make and take her some of my killer potato salad first – you would not believe the finger foods she had stayed up all night before her party preparing!

So yes, I am progressing – and the speed of progress is now accelerating. I am shown at least tolerance, if not actual respect, all over this town of Wilmington, North Carolina now. I am coming into my own.

All best wishes to all!

Scott

Party Tonight at the Kenan House, Wilmington, NC!!!

One of the Kenan residences in Wilmington, NC, this one now owned by UNCW. More info: HERE.

OK, the party is actually at my own rented house, which is a tad smaller and less formal. It is definitely BYOB, and we hope to serve donated hors de ouvres (hint: bring your own), or at least put out plates for them.

My house is located in what is now designated as "Mr. Roger's Neighborhood," as a Mr. Rogers, who is descended from the Sneedens who once owned Wrightsville Beach, Shell, and Figure Eight Islands, and his radio-personality girlfriend, have recently slept in my house (without "shenanigans"). They will be attending tonight. Invite is by serendipitous event, only.

We'll be celebrating our collective returns to apparent sanity, although we can offer no guarantees of such.

Do drop in, if in the neighborhood tonight!

Scott

The Verdict

Dear Friends and Family,

I’m totally exhausted tonight after a long day in which bossman Rusty and I took out the World’s Largest Tree – or so it seemed. But what a good feeling it was, not only of accomplishment, but to be so bone tired from honest physical labor. Last night I was less physically tired, but drained from wondering what would happen in an honest review of my history and present. Would I be put on medication? Have it recommended, and if so, how strongly a recommendation would it take to make me feel I should follow the recommendation?

But results are in, and she and I agreed that it appears (strongly), that I have in the past suffered Bipolar Disorder, but it has either disappeared or been in long-term remission (about 17 years). Because (I credit my studies in Religious Science and spirituality in general) I have had no depression longer than a few hours since about 1995, so I cannot have suffered from BIPOLAR since then. Before that, depression occupied much more of my time than mania, with neutral or depression being my usual state. Given the peculiar facts of my experience since I was a young child – but especially during the last two years – in simply telling those facts (but especially when I include my interpretations) I can sound delusional, but that does not make me delusional. Reality and its correct interpretation is NOT a popularity contest -- or determined by vote. I certainly have caused myself problems by detailing things to people who disagree or simply don’t want to think about the disturbing questions I insist on asking. I have NEVER blamed casual acquaintances, or even those “unthinking” people who are beholden to those who have consciously acted against me, for claiming I’m delusional.

But the fact remains that no one neutral, including, now, all three psychiatrists or psychologists I’ve had sessions with since I was arrested 2/28/11 (the jail psychologist who saw me three times while I was in jail can’t wait to read my book about this difficult time, as several sheriff’s deputies I knew there and spoke with while waiting as a free man to file appeal in court last week also claimed), can believe that my parents would not give me my brother’s and sisters’ phone numbers, or those of my five 1^st cousins living in Wilmington so that I might ask them to help me make the tiny $350.00 bail. They couldn’t believe my parents refused to pay it, especially given my tenuous financial situation and how it got so much worse by a month of unnecessary incarceration on an inappropriately filed charge.

The appeal date still is not set, but is expected to be mid-June. First, my blog not only is constitutionally protected as a form of journalism, but it has a disclaimer to its right side. To be guilty, I would have to KNOWINGLY spread false statements about my accuser. It was one of his friends who told me what I reported, and then many of the allegations were “confirmed” by several others, so I had every reason to believe they were true. As to the testimony in court, I am proud that I did not lie under oath. Perhaps the other two didn’t lie. Perhaps they, like Bill Clinton, were wondering what the “definition of 'is' is.”

Well, it doesn’t matter. I just hope the verdict is thrown out (as expected) on constitutional grounds and 12 jurors don’t have their time wasted – and my accuser is spared the embarrassment of having everything gone over again in court – probably with press present.

Please also remember that my shrink-nurse in GA had taken me OFF Lithium and put me on 25 mg of Seroquel (one or two) to sleep, which I ended up not needing. Typically, for Bipolar, the dosage of Seroquel is 600-1200 mg./day. One doctor here in Wilmington (In January) put me on not-Lithium bipolar meds, although she withheld making a definite diagnosis, she thought it wise given my distant past record and my being clearly agitated, which she acknowledged could be from the difficult-to-believe facts of my experience the past year plus. But she also thought I might be making things up and simply was manic. The meds did not go well with me and I stopped them and also stopped seeing her after explaining my reasons to her in a session, although I fully understood her actions and did NOT hold her actions against her. If it turned out I WAS bipolar and she had not tried to medicate me, she could have gotten into a lot of trouble. I don’t think that is a good enough reason to take powerful psychiatric drugs when I was clearly no danger to myself or anyone else – or in a crisis situation.

Bottom line: I was found yesterday to need no drugs or continuing therapy, and if requested, a report will be sent to court.

Other news:

1. My goods stored in GA are fine, and in fact, the Windows Vista desktop computer I gave the storing person is coming back to me since she has not used it.

2. The Clerk of Court in GA could find no record of the Felony Stalking Warrant against me (due to Christal Presley’s false claims of my having broken the restraining order – IMPOSSIBLE since I have not been in Georgia since). The order went into effect about 10 months ago automatically since I was unable to go to the hearing and refute her false claims that I had in ANY way threatened her, as well as her preposterous claims that I told her I was Jesus Christ come back to life – or that I was “not taking my medication” – the last one, a claim ALL my family, Patrick Stansbury, and Allen Rosen have also made – as if my doctor had told them she had prescribed drugs which I was NOT taking – which she could not possibly have done.

3. I did run into my cousin Nell as she was heading into the chancel to sing in choir at First Presbyterian last Sunday. She seemed quite well and fine with me. In fact she said I may call her, which I hope to do tomorrow. I wanted to be sure she was comfortable. I hadn’t seen her or spoken with her since two years ago. I’m assuming her reported discomfort with me came from my parents’ wild stories – maybe THEY should be medicated. I certainly could sue them for libel, although I doubt I will (despite some serious encouragement). I hope also to connect with my Aunt Doris’s four daughters who live here in town as well.

Please know also, that now that I have NOT been arrested, followed by thugs, or found more lies printed about me on the internet (these things all reported in earlier blog posts) since I was arrested, I’m not feeling any need to tell “everyone” the details of my very real ordeal the past two years (or the daily beatings and swastika-clad dinner plates my mother served us on in the 1950s and 60s). These two thing shock EVERYONE I mention them to, although I do point out that: 1. The swastikas were in pastel colors and small 2. Both my mother’s brothers’ widows say they never saw those plates in my grandmother’s house—the place my mother claims they came from.

Whether my parents and siblings come to their senses or not is not my problem. I have made such good friends in Wilmington, and really, have replaced my parents and siblings with a loving family. I do hope they will eventually see they cannot change the past by denying it – especially my sister Julie’s allegations that Dad sexually molested her, which (as I remember) she eventually dropped shortly before getting a job with a pharmaceuticals company which paid nicely.

I’m sorry to end on that note, but the past simply cannot be changed, and the future cannot be properly built without honesty and soul searching. I hope my family will someday contact me again – but I’m sure as hell not holding my breath!

And as before, if you can spare a little to help me finish catching up rent and utilities, get some new glasses (my old ones were scratched so badly the third time the drug Mafia beat me up in Mexico, I have only half their area through which to see properly), get a replacement for the three-sided tooth filling that fell out last summer, etc., PLEASE DONATE THROUGH MY BOOK’S WEBSITE: WWW.WALKINGONGLASS.NET .

I expect to be completely on my own feet within a month or two.

Thanks,

Scott

GETTING IT (or some of it)

I finally “got” an important aspect of my peculiarity, that I must manage better. I have long understood vaguely, but now I get it SPECIFICALLY and far more fully. To use Mom’s words, I talk too much.

Of course the reason I do that is that my immediate family and some old friends – as well as strangers, whom I’ve tended to call “my adversaries,” won’t shut up telling me that I talk too much, CAN’T be right, etc., which makes me believe it is the content they resist rather than my repetitiveness. Therefore, I have assumed they are guilty of everything I think I have hard or circumstantial evidence about. This might or might not be true. I must now reevaluate everything under my new understanding.

How did I get this additional insight? I took in two temporarily homeless people in circumstantial situations close to mine, whom I’ve taken into my apartment for a short time – a straight couple, both in their early 40s. One, let’s call him Daniel, is a much accomplished city planner, as well as music composer and pianist. Mindy (we’ll call her) is a much accomplished FM radio personality from western PA (Johnstown). In any case, Daniel, especially, thinks like me in “out-there-ness” and intensity. We both seek to serve (as does Cindy, although she’s more the athlete and jabber-talker), and so I see myself mirrored, and, like it or not, Daniel and I are both fearless creative thinkers who bring new ideas into the world, and this challenges people. Most people don’t want to be challenged, but we are both driven to bring fresh new ideas forward and test them out. Some of them HAVE to be good ones that can benefit humankind. The problem has been that we throw these ideas often to the wrong people (people who misinterpret our ideas or motivation), so the solution is to direct that part of ourselves toward the right and responsible outlets, and to stop insisting that people who don’t “get” us, listen and get us.

Unfortunately, my parents and siblings are in this category. That does NOT mean they are bad people, it just means they are what the Harry Potter books call “Muggles.” They don’t get creative things and they are not into the “magic” aspects of life. So, instead of thinking my parents hated me because they so strongly discouraged me to be an architect (my first known ambition, back in Jr. or Sr. high – I am equally gifted, right and left brain-parts, and that profession uses equal parts math/science and art) and insisted I should be an accountant because of my high math scores (arts ability cannot be “scored” really, so they had no idea how to judge that), I need to understand that they, not understanding the creative aspects of mind, were afraid I could never make it because they assumed I had a mind like theirs. And there is no lessening of anyone’s worth because they have little access to creative thinking. Many important roles in life and business are performed by people better suited to implementing the creative ideas of others. Not everyone can have “CEO mind” or be a fine-artist. (Really the same thing, although society makes a false distinction between creative business thinking and arts production.)

Anyway, all three of us are committed to getting better so that we will be allowed to have more creative expression, without the people we annoy to death resisting us ad finitem. AND I thank God I realized this before my psychiatric evaluation early this afternoon.

At First Presbyterian, especially, I get a lot of validation for my unique talents – both from clergy and parishioners. This is the spiritual home I’ve always sought. Although I consider Religious Science to be a better distillation of truth, there (at least at the Atlanta Church during Rev. Paul Gonyea’s recent days), everyone is too damn politically correct and if you call people on that kind of BS you get some people quite angry. At First Prez, everyone is respectful of each other and there are very diverse opinions. What links all is that everyone seems to listen to each other with open minds and all are genuinely seeking. I also am most highly complimented by having been made an Honorary Jew. I just feel more comfortable with Jews than with any other people, and as a group, their record in service to humanity is not topped, DESPITE so much of the world envying their ability to focus and move ahead despite all the hate and resistance to them. They are the warmest people on earth, and one thing I found most telling is that the Mexicans (especially descended from natives) revere Jews. Calling someone a Jew is their highest compliment – at least in Puerto Vallarta. My friend who styles herself “Gloria Jew” moved to an all Mexican neighborhood where she was entirely welcomed immediately, but on day word a Star of David on a chain, and when it was seen, the neighbors started treating her like a Queen – they had not previously known she was Jewish.

Well, whatever I am, I am FOR everyone and everyone’s success. This is a spiritual statement. Please also know that I know that I only harm myself if I oppose, sue, or otherwise torment anyone else out of spite – or EVEN because I’m right. That said, if suing, prosecuting, or publicly exposing the crimes of others benefits ALL (except those who consciously harm others), then these actions are actually positive. Going forward, I will try to further sort the things I have alleged and then proceed in appropriate ways against criminals, whether of the law or man or God, but otherwise leave well-intended people alone, regardless how mistaken I believe them to be. After all, not only have I made many errors along the way, but we are all in this together, and the first thing we need is good intentions – we just don’t want to be paving the road to hell, and that’s where this thing called God comes in, so we listen with discernment in meditating.

So now I must get ready for my psychiatric evaluation, and I will publicly report on that as well, no matter how much I do or do not want to do so.

Scott