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- Blinded by the Light
- Better Able to See
I asked Max at my computer repair shop to get my Optiplex for Dave, but he hasn't replied to my messages yet, so I’m writing with more clarification about problems that began when equivocation of terms replaced a history that my parents found difficult to accept. Beside's, nearly every time I return to my work I find it's been altered, so it needs to be rewritten anyway.
I'm not an aggressive person, but I grew up with pressures that were not normally encountered by children my age as a result of international travel and exposure to difficult circumstances. And when I tried to cover that material here online, I was censored by my mother and advised to tone it down by the police, so I referred to it as a problem that resulted from following a cat down the avenue which is true. I actually did get lost following a calico cat down Buchanan Avenue before the concerns she was obscuring took place.
But by that time, stray cats were rounded up by my Uncle Dibby for research at the University where implants were used, and riots broke out in the city shortly after I published the information, so I had to open up about my reasons for the use of ambiguity in order to prevent the ongoing violence and the motivation for it from continuing: that's the whole point of this work. When I began, it was standard practice to obscure the truth by these means, so it's been a difficult problem to be rid of.
Regarding Childhood Trauma
While my best friend was approaching the Johnson yard I was practicing my bat swing on the sidewalk that runs alongside the house. I know I was by the front porch because I could see him approach, out of the corner of my eye, from the South (see red arrow aiming up), but my focus was on hitting a pitch from the east, back across Buchanan Avenue (see red arrow aiming right).
I would've rather have greeted my friend then - and would still rather do so now, but I was preoccupied with the need to improve my swing - perhaps because of the challenges we‘ve been facing since WWII.
Staying a yard or two from each other; much like the expectation that I focus on web site development, and study the capacity to see at the University of Minnesota and elsewhere may be recommendations based upon an assumption about me and my friend Dave that resulted from a threat that was put down in Europe then.
I went to Berkeley to study after writing a paper on Imaging Visual Function of the Human Brain in 1991 as documented by Dr. Marg prior to that time. Like the work of Hubel and Wiesel in 1974, I reviewed their work to continue to work on the problem of apprehending threats in our environment, but I was confronted by animal rights protestors when I arrived.
The Trauma Continued
I transcribed the details about a similar case that's linked below because it's where we went to live when we left. And, because the details about the injury were completely withheld from me, like the failure to perform an autopsy in the Sand Lake drowning. However, it is clear upon reflection that concern was so grave, a community next to Batavia Illinois was voted out of existence to provide a site for Fermilab, our National Accelerator Laboratory in 1966. (Mr. Johnson's wife could not receive the death benefits because they chose not to employ the autopsy required by the insurance company.)
On the Occasion of an Unidentified Spacecraft Found in a Vacant Lot
Octopus furnace ductwork.
(Someone took the top off an old furnace and put it in the alley before we left.)
Images, courtesy of Old House Guy
We enjoy peace, liberty and the freedom to compose, but left the city for reasons that weren't as clear then as they are now.
Without knowing what it was, the top of the furnace could've easily been mistaken for a small spaceship from a distance; like a flying saucer with a port hole on the side that I slid down to get into the fort beneath.
Because the top of the furnace looked like perfect cover for the fort I was working on in the vacant lot (just a hole in the ground really), I dragged it to the spot under the window of the gas station garage, where it must've been mistaken for an alien craft (the one I found was silver, clean and with ductwork that was large enough for me to slide into).
And, because I didn't share this experience with my friends before I left and a writer from my family used to work with Fermilab, I felt the need to be as clear about this incident as I can be. The claims of children under circumstances like these are frequently considered to be invalid, unreliable, or simply untrue, so I'm writing as carefully as I can on the subject.
If we could get film negatives to prove what we say was true, like my reports on pollution, the evidence we gathered and our tools were taken from us when we started to report what was happening. Besides, we were surrounded by compelling film at the time, so proof was needed.
Though I was unable to get Davy to the Hospital by myself at the age of 7, the effort of others (sincere or otherwise) taught me to get on a stretcher, or gurney and into an ambulance. Concern about his injury also led to a more sincere effort on my part to investigate the cause of injuries and the occurrence of scar tissue, but nobody actually told me what happened to him.
Continuing to develop tools for a more diverse community by documenting the results of doing what we were told to do to improve on how we accomplish it.
Please see also: Locations