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University of Life Since '75



Now I'm a tall, large framed, pale skinned with moles, pale blue eyed man with long, dark blonde hair and a full, darker, reddish beard.  My hair somewhat darker these days from the natural oils since I stopped shampooing some years ago.



I was told that the womb I'd inhabited had previously held a child killed by my own mother pre-birth due to it being conceived in the rape of a 16 year old.  I started life in a London, England, upper middle class family.  The eldest child of eldest children, the first grandchild and the first of my extended family to be born in England and in London.  The only child of a decade long marriage of expatriates of mostly northern Europan descent.  I was told and saw living evidence that my ethnicity was ½ Alba (Scottish) (Protestant Christian) from our father who had traced my family tree back 25 generations to C12, ¼ Polski (Polish) (Catholic Christian) and ¼ لبناني (Lubnaniin or Lebanese) (Coptic Christian) from a little north of Jesus (who was made in God's image and 100% tanned Caucasian).  My short, busty, quietly, passive-aggressively hateful, artist, community college, media studies teacher mother gave me a well-equipped room in her house and put food on the table.  She was a disturbed, man-hater and I was pleased our relationship was minimal.  She forever hated her father for abandoning his first family with her included and deeply resented her mother for shipping her off to live with family on another continent.  After retiring she achieved her doctorate degree.  I was thankfully raised without a dominant male figure in the household.  This helped my independence bloom.  Growing up I got my father figures from multimedia religion.  My very reserved, college, architecture professor father, gone by the time I was six, was rumored to have cheated on my mother even with her sister then moved on to start a new family whom he later also abandoned.  Obviously I was overjoyed at this break from Societal BDSM dominance and socialization from another of Society's disturbed, Attacked individuals.  This let unrestrained self-empowerment foster and self-control build.



Thankfully I escaped all the standard initiations into religion.



I've never been a people person.  Being an only child I kept myself company and entertained myself, often with the help of Society's multimedia religion.  I gained distantia (distance) from an early age.  I'd the one parent who worked late and wasn't interested in me.  I've had solely a friend or two throughout the years, my buddies phase from junior year in high school only lasted a year or two before starting to fade, I did a GF for a while and a lover for a year.  I've always led a solitary life.  Entranced by multimedia religion, yet solitary.  Being distanced to Society I kept a distance to their comms of emotion.  I've never been much of one for sadness nor anger.  Extremely accustomed to my own, solitary reality and a programmer or controller of computers, I could safely be called a control freak although I'm certainly not domineering.  I like things just so, the way I like them and don't accept chaos in my reality.  I acknowledge my digiphilia and am constantly developing my own computing systems including an AI , so any future GF of mine would have, albeit fundamentally inferior, competition.



I was a city kid but also an islander.  The island Britain for all my childhood years was in the midst of a civil war with its closest neighbor which it considered its territory.  The threat of terrorist bombing by the IRA (Irish Republican Army) was very real.  There were both fire and bomb alarms at school.  One night I heard a Palestinian bomb explode some distance away carried by the night air to my neighborhood.  The IRA were not freedom fighters hitting legitimate government targets they were terrorists attacking a civilian population which included me.



Britain is the only country I've been where the cops don't carry guns by default.  There are basically no poisonous spiders or insects and its only snake, the adder, has no venom.  The weather is very rarely extreme; rarely mild hurricanes, no tornados nor earthquakes, ~26°C (80°F) summer max and ~-6°C (20°F) winter min.  Being an island it's easy to defend, recently against C20 Nazis and C21 illegal immigrants.  It's a temperate paradise island yet it has it bad points like everywhere else.



Born with a squint, Strabismus, to conform to Society's appearances I had been subjected to three ocular operations by two years old (from conception).  Each time with general anæsthesia; a state some never awaken from.  So it could be said that my life had already been jeopardized by Society thrice while still a toddler.  Decades later this turned into myopia (of my right eye).



As a 3~4 year old I attended a private, Montessori kindergarten in an upper class neighborhood on a higher hill quite close to my home.



At elementary school age I was notably underworked.  A memory that stands out is from around kindergarten grade age, my British second grade (British kids start school before their American counterparts).  I'd finished my sheet of math problems so I walked up and presented my work to the teacher.  She was so unprepared for intelligent kids that because she had no other work for me to do, instead of congratulating me, she literally told me to do it all again; talk about negative reinforcement!  I sang Morning Has Broken, All Things Bright And Beautiful, etc. and went on a field trip to the central London mosque but there was never any pledging to be submissive towards (the Christian) God, any other god/s nor to any nation.  There were no flags at school, none in the neighborhood.  Another glaring difference to America.  Early on there was the downtrodden looking girl who kept coming to school with broken bones.  She didn't come for long but she was unforgettable.  A die-hard idealist I tried activism against my own educational imprisonment by igniting the paper in the school restroom aged eight.  After the third time, I was caught, as I must have wanted, and was given a second chance by a nice, woman principal.  The incidents were all after school and with five exits on the ground floor and a fire escape on the second I wasn't going to injure anyone.  The passionate fires were lit as near as possible to the place of semi-naked females, in the gender partitioned restrooms.  It was the place with the least amount of combustible material and the most water in the school.  It was a symbolic gesture of defiance from a prisoner, not the most dedicated plan of pyromania.  The same fire in any classroom drawer and the whole building would've gone up.  A naughty, fortunately disasterless, couple of times I dallied with the dangers of ignited paper airplanes (sugar paper worked extremely well) (then restricted myself to Amaretti wrappers) and I also survived with conscience barely intact after dangerously bombarding traffic with projectiles a couple of times.  Kids, and the energies they get caught up in!



Around fourth grade age my teacher was nasty and tried to put down my abilities to my mom.  I was specially tested by an educational psychologist and came back to the teacher with a letter putting my IQ in the top 5%.  Enjoying the countryside was helped by my time with the Woodcraft Folk who are like hippie Boy Scouts for both genders.  I literally sang 'We Shall Overcome' and 'The H-Bomb's Thunder' songs.  In both the Woodcraft Folk group and later in my martial arts group I willingly accompanied the other members in the self-programming membership pledges recited and reinforced every session.  I'd a friend at whose home I watched NC-17 rated, like Bruce Lee kung fu (Jeet Kune Do), movies as a preteen.  There was a neighborhood house called 'In Mengele Land' after Nazi Dr. Josef 'The Angel of Death' Mengele, who performed enforced medical experiments on their political prisoners and later evaded capture for the remainder of his life.  Us kids referred to him as the 'ogre', as kids do, and were wary but there was no aggression, no pranks pulled.  We assumed our neighbor was a holocaust survivor.  One Halloween he chased a Trick-or-Treating kid up the road with a kitchen knife.  He'd obviously found a place to feel safe however highly strung.



One afternoon I was stalked on my way home by a pædophile.  Soon there was a knock on the door.  Going to answer it with a babysitter looking over my shoulder the stalker quickly backed away mutely.  Life warned me of the dangers of riding a bike in a city early by an accident in a park putting me in a cast for my fifth grade dance (once again my right ankle).  Although I'd had my first kiss by then the dance was an awkward night best quickly moved on from.  My father gave us a couple of half siblings who lived nearby for a few years before he cruelly ripped them from my life by moving them hours away.  It did however reinforce my solitude which I've cherished.



At middle / high school age our asthma (also known as smother love), the birth of the Digital Age and an inherent dislike of the idiocy and aggressively competitive nature of most sports (and to be honest most people) kept me inside playing with my computer, electronics kit, chemistry set, reading or likewise educational, intelligent activity.  I had suffered from asthma ('ass-ma') since a young child, was on daily medication just to live, caught frequent chest infections, pneumonia once, and was hospitalized numerous times, spanning a decade.  It wasn't managed properly and blaming my unengaged mother would be fairly accurate; more a touch of Munchausen by proxy than Munchausen.  My mother rarely entered my room and being a kid I basically never vacuumed the thick carpet letting dust and dust mites & their droppings (a trigger) accumulate.  I was also allergic to animals yet had had a cat since a toddler.  (I strongly associated with their independence and didn't much appreciate the submissive, for domineering owners, group behavior nor slobbering of dogs.)  My mother smoked for some years.  My bed, from my mom, above my too dark and claustrophobically enclosed therefore unused desk was, without reason, 50cm (20") from the ceiling adding immensely to my sense of being squashed.  One view is that my asthma was a reciprocal Attack for the enforced collaring of 'my' cat.  I feel it was an Attack directly from my mother's energy.  I grew out of it as a martial artist teen.



Something I'm extremely disappointed with is that Attack convinced me, for a short time, to imprison a rabbit.  One view is the sensible creature escaped one vacation and then died from eating weeds.  Another is that the relative charged with caring for it got too hungry.



Since I can remember there was always a lodger, usually a woman, living in my parent/s house.  I never had a lock on my door there so privacy was compromised.  Later I carved a hole in a book for privacy.  Sensibly I never tried the in-house pussy (which was never blonde), so to speak.



I enjoyed the sole bonding experience with my father; Saturday trips to the concert halls to listen to classical music.  I played chess against him a few times but that's basically it.  Although photos suggest he may have doted over me as a baby, our mature relationship never was.



Xmas' spent with my mother's side of my original family were completely out-of-character with my quiet life in their amazing warmth, good spirit, great Polski (Polish) food and course after course after course of it.  Mainly held in the large house of my relatives; a Polski count & his wife; an amazing cook (makes one wonder about that rabbit).  Their only child together, a pretty, blonde daughter with a good body who'd emigrated to Oz sold her personal services, often in Vegas.  Although my grandparents had spawned 12 children between them I only had one, younger, relative to play with on the Eastern Europan celebratory night of December 24.  After dinner the men took a drugs break in an upstairs bedroom to smoke cannabis while the women cleaned up then chain smoked while nattering downstairs.  We all reconvened to open presents and play board games until some of the others went to Catholic midnight mass.  Xmas' spent with my father's side were cold with far fewer people and far less good cheer.  I clearly remember the year I went with my father's new, Österreichisch (Austrian) Ashkenazi Jewish family and was hospitalized with asthma.  Alone, outside of London, outside my hometown comfort zone, reading almost my sole possession, a small, boys', fact book my father had gifted to me at the hospital, lying in a public hospital, dormitory bed, with my labored breathing, a catheter in my splinted arm and refreshing nebulizer meds sessions.  Basically no-one visited, no-one cared.  It was the epitome of a cold xmas.  Feeling unwanted and ultra-Attacked.  My father was never a violent man, his anger was quietly hidden below his surface, and was intelligent, but he never communicated much with me at all.  Anyway, as I've said I grew out of my asthma and obviously grew further and further away from my father's group.



I attended a public yet good quality school which took me 10-mins to walk to.  The lower classes took a city bus (there are no school busses in the UK) from the lower class neighborhood.  So I was shown the trouble that they cause.  The proletariat and especially the Afros and Türks showed me that they were the thieves, crack dealers, gun dealers and thugs.  (I could deny it to be PC (ignorantly self-deluded) but this is what I experienced.)  Noticeably the sexiest Chicks got abused first.  I had some good teachers and enjoyed the lessons.  Using cannabis and alcohol irregularly since age 11 to aid survival of megopolic life.  Addiction was avoided though cocaine sampled at age 15.  Having had some megopolic rage as a teen I did a tiny bit of shoplifting and vandalism but nothing major and was never overly hassled by the cops.  A focus was on taking porn mags back in the days before the web, when porn was difficult to acquire as a teen child.  I never bullied and managed to stand up more and more to the few bullies that came my way.  Carrying a pocket knife helped (as defense sprays aren't sold in the UK).  Drunk at lunch time one day, then after school feeling pissed off, a car was approaching me as I was crossing a side street walking home.  'Fuck him' I thought and stood my ground, staring him out, then the mofo actually accelerated.  A friendly guy who'd been a part-time neighbor for a year or two ran into the street and pushed me out of the way.  In gratitude I bought him a bottle of liquor the following day.  Other incidents involved extremely narrowly avoiding bottle and knife fights with Afros and other aggressive proles.



A very potent memory is being taken to a traditional Polski (Polish) dance show in London and bringing my Walkman (an old MP3 player that used tapes) and listening to NWA (Niggaz Wit Attitudes) at full volume the entire time.  I didn't have the distance to appreciate something as special as my beautiful, hereditary folk music at that time.  I was in a life which was around seriously dangerous kids and the safe attitude was that integration with them was what was cool, not interest in my individual heritage.  A nasty result.



My sociology teacher was a radical, misandrist (man-hating) lesbian.  An example is the time she ignored every question I put to her yet answering every one from girls; losing her professionalism however bad a day she was having.  Literally all the guys dropped out and got one less exam certificate as a result.  One evening when we knew she'd be there late, together with a buddy we did in her car.



Happily, simply, Kinsey 0 heterosexual and proud of it =).  Getting away from home to asthma (& eczema ('ex-ma'); the charities teamed up) summer camp I twice started a relationship with brunette GFs.  One was a good friend with a large bust and bulimia.  I earned money washing cars and fixing the odd computer.  I played Role Playing Games (RPGs) a bit.  Dressing in baggy, casual clothing with Nike Air exceedingly comfy sneakers.  The division was between Trendies who listened to Pink Floyd & Metallica and wore DM boots and Cons, and Casuals who listened to rap & rave and wore what I wore.  For a soundtrack I listened a heap to illegally broadcast, pirate radio playing the new dance music of acid house, hardcore, drum'n'bass, jungle, techno, trance and ambient.  Predominantly designed for the recently discovered X (MDMA) drug.  I was also a Bob Marley fan especially as I could relate to his use of cannabis.  (At junior year age my music tastes expanded.)  I learnt extra-curricular classical and modern drumming.  At a dinner party of my mother's I met someone who had had a few lines in a Hollywood film and also got a kiss on the cheek from a fashion magazine editor Chick who was in a relationship with a filmmaker who later co-wrote Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas.  The things that make an impression on teenage boys =).  The only one I knew to have noticed, and been moved by, the tree planted on our school grounds in memory to the unknown-to-us, asthmatic Chick who accidentally killed herself by painting alone inside her home with the windows shut.  As city kids do I learnt to swear in many different languages from my ethnically diverse classmates.  At one local dance I had to turn down the advances of a Negro Chick as they're not my type.  I'd made no false promises to my friends at high school and left them as abruptly as I'd met them.  The bunch of us had enjoyed sharing good times and protecting each other for a while.



I stayed in education after it stopped being compulsory.  As was common I went to a new school, and there my socializing exploded.  I stopped martial arts just short of black belt (another megopolic survival technique) and for the next four years got my exercise in danceathon nightclubs.  First on acid then on X (at five times the price).  One Saturday night I tried to convince some buddies to go with me to an illegal rave I'd found out about but they were too lazy and I didn't feel up to going it alone.  Naturally I turned bald like my grandfather before me.  I passed my First Aid class.  My school arranged for me to spend an exciting week as a film industry intern / gopher.  There's a movie out there whose only reason it doesn't have white specks on its end credits is due to me and a magic marker.  Self-medication reached a new level when strong psychedelics were started around my 17th birthday.  Psychonautic adventures abounded.  All of a sudden beautiful life truths were apparent showing an awesome possible future awareness, far more than had been available from cannabis use.  At a well organized squat party I left physical reality for hours (for full on, enlightened, Chikhai Bardo) on a couple of blotters plus a dose of shrooms.  Normally I didn't dose that extra strongly.  I turned down the advances of a pair of Chicks as one was a Negro and as such not my type.  I started reading esoteric literature at this time.  Reading hippie classics the 易經 (Yi Jing or I Ching), Leary, Wilson, Castaneda, Kesey, Wolfe's account of the Merry Pranksters, Persig and McKenna also drew my attention away from classic academia and my A-grades deteriorated.  I grew a little of my own weed.  I puffed pot on the first day of school, I puffed on the last day and I puffed every day in-between.



One short period, after being a victim myself, involved propelling eggs from cars; very immature, harmless and my buddies and I didn't start it!  One Friday afternoon I was hit by an Attack (of evil) that was almost unfathomably large, concealed within a spontaneous prank, almost led to tragedy and which got me expelled from school and very nearly incarcerated for a very long time.  The party attitude and youthful foolishness had precipitated a momentary weakening of my guard.  I then went from a school where I said "Hey" to everyone to a school where I said "Hey" to almost no one.  My new school didn't have Driver's Ed and I didn't finish learning to drive.  However, I eventually learned and in the interim took a couple of helo flying lessons; dangerous yet great fun.  Our government schooling provided only three good years of a spread of subjects before I had to cut down to nine subjects at examination level then only another couple of years before I had to, in junior and senior years, study only three examinable subjects.  This was for their Circle Game, vocational based, very obviously solely for the benefit of Society rather than for a well-rounded education.  I passed my exams (I'd chosen all STEM subjects) and got into university college.



At 18 I took a gap year.  I studied some, worked long hours as a tele-researcher and data-inputter then traveled to Asia.  Trekking the Himalayas up to a 4km high base camp in a most special mountain basin 360° surrounded by mountains towering another 4km above.  It was silent, truly silent, and awesome.  There were no animals to make noise, above the tree line and the mountains blocked out all other sounds, and even warm sunlight until late morning.  Lying on the roof of the bus back to town I rolled up a joint.  I white water rafted and chillumed charas cannabis also while in नेपाल (Nepal).  Next I found an undeveloped tropical island in ประเทศไทย (Thailand).  With only generator electricity and no tarmac, having made friends and with cheap 100g sticks of ไทย (Thai) weed and two hammocks I helped out for discounted food at a young, ไทย Chick's small restaurant hut where everyone smoked weed and majorly relaxed there for a quarter year.  It was the most distant I'd ever been to Society, by far, and I fell in love with the beach and the ไทย Chick.  She was the first strong, independent, young woman I'd met but she was only separated and not yet divorced from her Nederlands (Dutch), gun owning, cannabis ex-grower & dealer spouse.  I obviously had to turn down her improper advances.  Nearly nothing is as important as morality, doing what you feel is right; the good and not the bad.  I've not yet had the opportunity to fall in love (not before nor) since.  I've played with love.  I'd loved my Brit GF, I played with the affections of my 'unworthy' women buddies in high school knowing I didn't want anyone that... used and I later sensuously and with great care loved my Norsk (Norwegian) lover but they never had that special something to make us fall in love with them.  Back to the tropical island...  One time a group of us travelers persuaded a local baker to bake a couple of banana cakes full of weed for us to share.  I was stoned for days and found myself too mashed to snorkel in crystal clear tropical waters on a day trip (although I did see a dead body floating by) and sunburnt the following night.  One quiet night in a country garden by the river  แคว (Kwai) a retired, expat, Texan exec offered me a wife, 21 years old, which was sold as very young but was in fact older than me.  Despite being somewhat around people who had had sex since they were 11 I waited until 19.  It was in the tropical กรุงเทพฯ (Krungthep or Bangkok), in the world's only multi-story red light zone where I popped my cherry with a very pretty and seductive, teen prostitute looking a couple of years under 18.  Cheap at twice the fiver we paid.  She hung out with me drinking beers in a nearby pool bar with my buddies afterwards.  She was cool.  One view poses the question of how much my experience was influenced by &/ influenced my perception of the word Caucasian, cock Asian.  (Though I'd certainly heard the word euthanasia before.)  Trying as I write this to lead by the example that pride in your history is very important.  You've never done anything wrong, not wrong for you, you never could.  So you've never done anything to be ashamed of, you never could.  Your life, your choices, your path followed despite all Attack energies hitting you along the way.  No blame, no shame.



In the fall of 1995 with my cannabis trafficking uncle, my mother's eldest brother, (I had another, my father's youngest brother, a civil engineer, that inherited a construction company that I later implemented their website for) I went to a private country party where the organizers who handed out tasty P. semilanceata magic mushrooms and had the largest home speakers I'd ever seen had sold one of their manufactured tie-dyed t-shirts to Owsley the infamous LSD manufacturer.  The live music was great.  Hell's Angels turned up at dawn.



I had such little financial support that on my first day of college I had to go Dutch with a fellow student on a candy bar.  In the UK the government pays for tuition and students can get loans to cover expenses.  Parents don't have to pay a cent and ours certainly didn't.  I read Physics at university or rather shaven headed I extremely foolishly risked my freedom by continuing to deal mainly cannabis (middle class drugs; never crack, meth nor heroin) to friends, and be highly social.  When you think of the relief a joint can bring a stressed student and the amount of joints you could buy with a thou, ¼kg, you have quite the responsibility on an average night let alone a Saturday or New Year's Eve.  Supplying a stronger drug like acid or X makes or breaks a weekend.  You need to be reliable and provide a quality product or you don't deserve the job.  You have to work while your friends play and take things easy.  You get paid but it's not that much, really.  You're risking your liberty; in retrospect a very foolish risk.



I got a date with a beautiful, sexy, tall, intelligent, young, blonde, blue eyed, English lady who was into reggae as was I.  The bass of the sound system brought in to the beach front nightclub was the most we'd ever heard, and that's saying something.  Overwhelmingly Attack didn't even let me comprehend it as a date and obviously my date was programmed not to make the first move, so we didn't even kiss.  I've no plans to ever forgive the UK for this torturous experience.  It's all (Attack) factors.  Yet when you view it with a broader perspective certain similarities stand out.  Anyway, it was easy to see a path that would've wound us both together.  It's the closest the UK's energies have ever let me come to a decent relationship with a British Chick in all my decades of experience on that island.  Despite being half Scotch (British) and a Londoner at birth I've never found myself eligible for the things like this that would appear my birthright.  (I was a foreigner in a foreign land and I felt it.  I was born and raised in the capital of England yet had no English blood in me.)  I felt I had no choice but to accept a quite imperfect relationship.  A little later I started having sex daily, nightly and ever so rightly with a Norsk country Chick (another intimacy with dark hair) whom I loved.  We progressed to nightly, hours long sexercise sessions helped with cannabis as an aphrodisiac and a little alcohol as an anæsthetic with her having, like, five orgasms a night.  This simple, rustic, though less naïve than she could've been, teen woman who's flesh I ravaged and plied with copious amounts of cannabis lived in the parish that historically was the Reverend Lewis Carroll's.  We never tripped together.  Visiting her hometown I tried strong moonshine at the end of a fjord, popular due to strict licensing laws.  Our background music was heavily roots reggae and dub mainly out of Jamaica from musicians deeply intertwined with the cannabis spirit.  I see the view that this was energy pointing out to my consciousness that we'd have had dark haired kids rather than all blondes.  I invested heavily in the relationship but within a year it became obvious that it couldn't last.



There aren't fraternities nor sororities at UK colleges so no BDSM hazing; surely a good thing.  I drank at a couple of the five bars on campus and they served liquor.  One drunken night with my buddies we all got banned from a bar on campus after many glasses were smashed and I surreally accused a barmaid of stealing the hashish I had concealed in my mouth.  A unique experience was the night a roommate had acquired a white powder from amateur chemists.  It was supposed to be X (MDMA).  I must have done an immense dose because I was induced to sprint for a while repeatedly up and down a corridor in the dorm.  Wow, I'd never tried anything like that before and I'd taken a fair few pills and powders.  Another night, around the time I was leaving, when I was staying the night in our lover's room, one of my roommates allegedly raped another in the room next to mine.  My ties with them were disintegrating and it was more sensible to let the authorities handle it than to get involved.  Earlier an unpleasant incident involving my lover had initiated a search for the creep perp, bringing fake guns, air guns, knives and baseball bats along although fortunately for all involved the creep was nowhere to be found.  A non-violent person, all the other times I've let the people who deserved a beating go.  I withstood the minute loss of face for the lack of the vibe associated with the violence and any possible legal entanglements.  I realized I'd dropped out of college ages ago and so after a tiring four days cleaning a factory I continued my office work.  Squatting for a bit in an unused room on campus I then upgraded to a room on the edge of town by the marina.  My highlights included dancing on X with a professional dancer at an all night rave of 25,000 people on an air field.  Another, chatting up and dancing by a famous pop singer in a megopolitan bar.  I saw Lee 'Scratch' Perry, System 7, The Prodigy (although most of our concentration was distracted by our amazing, first, X pill), Baby D, Acen, Orbital and other amazing music acts perform live.  Standard for megopolic life I'd passed by a dozen celebrities around town.



Returning to college the following year and changing course to add Computing, my main love since I was preteen re-awakened my studious side.  It had been four years since I'd been flowing with school and the ease with which I took to my new classes threw me.  Like Gates, Jobs and Zuckerberg before me I again dropped out, to start my computing business which to this day supports my life.



Socially I reached out and received an email reply from psychonaut author Terrence McKenna (1946-2000) telling me to be there at the 2012 eschaton or be square, which I won't hold him to.  Nightclubbing in '96 I once enjoyed trying a 2CB pill.  One weekend I went to a theme park overnight with two Chicks I was tight with plus a guy friend of one of them.  I turned down the advances of one of the Chicks because she was a slutty Jewess and as such not our type.  Later she told me the guy had committed suicide.  I always blamed, almost definitely accurately, the fact that the guy did too much acid compared with not enough weed.



By then I'd been electrocuted, been in a car accident and bruised by a bump from a passing car.  My extended social circle had included Deutsch (German) royalty, a Kenyan aristocrat and, briefly, ไทย (Thai) royalty.  I'd considered a career as a firefighter, a pyrotechnic engineer or as an EMT.  I'd tried to change my major at college to philosophy and to neuroscience.



Since watching the Contact (1997) movie I've been donating computing processing cycles to SETI@Home the SETI grid computing project based at UC Berkeley which searches for extraterrestrial intelligences.



Easily I got myself into a long distance, intimate, internet relationship with an American Chick.  Ignorantly one that could never prosper.  Needily it lasted years.



At 22 I felt trapped and over-stressed and went to the medical profession for solace.  My honest recounting of experiences on psychedelics was used against me.  They labelled me a non-violent introvert of the underclass of the mentally ill, for life, and imprisoned me for ⅓ year.  Eventually released I later that year started individual and group psychotherapy while living in a therapeutic community house.  This was just a houseshare of six people each in therapy with twice weekly group therapy, in-house, over tea.  Therapy was a powerful, lengthy experience enjoyed over the next five years.  The therapy, as the martial arts before it, was all paid for by my father's side of my original family.  (Though not once did he come to see me perform at my gradings.)  The therapeutic housing was from a charity and covered by standard Welfare.  Living in a tiny room I saw a heap of disturbance there.  People recovering from suicide attempts, from life's Attacks, rape survivors of both genders, a cutter, etc..  Disturbed yet very human people with whom I interacted daily, whom I had on occasion needed to talk down from delusional mania or visited in hospital when they had become inpatients.  It was very educational.  We shared group therapy, weekly meals, sometimes got drunk and once or twice made music together.  I had my own cable TV (and computer of course), phone line and a lock on my door.  It was during this period that I managed to distance myself further from Society.



Although I knew of around half a dozen people raped in my extended social circle I was acquaintances with only the one murderer.  A bourgeois, White sporto in my high school class not far past graduation who killed one of the neighborhood's prettiest Chicks.  A prole, White kid in my year killed a man by setting them alight in a store and a prole, White in the year above stabbed his male victim to death in a bar fight.  I've also been close to a few other murders near where I've lived.  If I hadn't increased my spiritual retreat in my mid-twenties I'd probably have heard more true violent crime stories from megopoli.



Sensibly leaving friends and turning to my inner callings.  I left my peer group of bankers, architects, computer geeks, advertising execs and the like.  Mostly mongrels barely a pure English among them.  (Very few even amongst the school crowd.)  People whom I saw steal from charity, take drugs and who were mindless automatons.  Vane, inane materialists whose sole purpose was earning money and being a non-unique cog in The Machine.  People who want to be only a copy of their parents not new and improved versions.  Watching TV, drinking in bars, doing lines and looking cool.  Sheltering, not parenting, their Societally raised kids, then repeatingNothing new, nothing explored, nothing challenged, nothing creative.  People who don't think for themselves.  People who only say what is normally said and do what is normally done.  People who don't know themselves and their potential.  People who don't know life and its potential.  It really was never for me.



I became the amateur photographer, the music producer, the video editor, the home DJ, the digital still artist, the film buff and scriptwriter (and Buffy fan (since the movie; pretty, young, fit, middle class, pink skinned Chick with an absent father and limited relationship with her mother, with few friends and into martial arts at high school age and the paranormal &/ occult; a Chick following in my footsteps – it gave me hope during a dark period that an interesting Chick may be findable with whom I can relate)), the (Daoist or Taoist) 易經 (Yi Jing or I Ching) student, the 打太極拳川 (T'ai Chi Chuan) and fleeting 合気道 (Aikido) student, the chef and the fashion designer of our own clothing.  I finally started being able to find good White music to listen to like Sia and Tool.  I spent a few days & nights twice at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery in England.  Adventurously I made a pilgrimage to the birthplace of LSD in Basel, Schweiz and to the birthplace of the web at CERN in Meyrin near Genève, Suisse (also Switzerland).  One time I grew my own psychedelic shrooms which were very nice.  During this period I voluntarily took psychiatric medications and put on a lot of weight, enough to forever bear the scars.  Noteworthy also are the few scars from self-inflicted cigarette burns and the couple of tattoos acquired during this time.  This was while the drinking came heavy enough to down a bottle of vodka in a night if need be, plus the meds including Valium sedatives.  One day I was in pain, it got worse, I caught an ambulance to a hospital, then oddly waited for hours in a waiting room.  The mother to my right concerned about my squirming in pain spoke to staff on my behalf.  I was given a morphine suppository and was wheeled into surgery.  It turned out I got to keep all my major organs intact.  Lying in a public hospital dormitory bed hooked up to a drip, opium nightmares about evil residing within my bedside cupboard passed the time until incontinence came with the stopping of the morphine injections.  A couple of scars remain (of course on my right side), maybe a debt owed.  The drinking subsided to a more sustainable level and life continued.



Not counting my crazy housemates, I knew of a buddy and two other guys from my year at high school who'd spent time in mental hospital.



On September 11, 2001 I was woken by a phone call from a friend urging me to turn on my TV.  Six years later, for a torturously short period, I'd be living only a few blocks away from Ground Zero.



It was at 27 that I quit therapy and moved into my own apartment.  Through need I picked myself up, quit the meds, smoking & drinking, walked off the collected fat and got fit again.  I jogged and then I ran until I withdrew to my home gym and cycled.  I put up a hammock and grew tomatoes.  I didn't own a TV.  My bizzy was really flowing during this period.  Developing AI systems helped me shape a scientific view of mind, personality and interaction with reality.  I developed novel computing technologies; more advanced than anything Gaians (Earthlings) had at their disposal.  Including a taxi hailing app years before Uber.  I made plans for literally thousands of different apps, knowing what each one did, and extremely basically started work on each of them.  My work now planned out reaching far into the distant future.  Software (apps) and hardware projects.  Ranging from the basic like an email app to advanced image recognition to AI companions and beyond.  Like AIs with hive mind capability; all learning from the experiences of each, and the AIs knowing how to create and perfect the development of themselves.  Homes and lives full of the Internet of Things (in 2006).  Thousands of everyday apps from school-ware to pizza-parlor-ware to espionage-ware and far more.  Daily meditation was deep and fulfilling.  Working like 75 hours per week.  Exercising several times a day and eating organic food.  No meds of any kind.  Not even a drink.  For three good years.  Then alcohol crept back in, in the form of wine.  Then only minor drinking for two years before heavier meds were used as times got rougher; deeper into Attack.  Back to 2006...  Monxy:brain was buzzing with logical activity and Monxy:body was the fittest I'd ever been.  I went to bed thinking about work, meditated into a deep sleep, sometimes I stayed conscious yet in deep meditation all night, and I woke thinking about work.  I was learning and building my business simultaneously.  Experimentally I started working away from the day time period.  Working shifts sometimes during the daytime and sometimes at night.  My food was delivered and eventually I shut myself inside my apartment.  Being this retreated I saw that mostly I had no need for clothing other than underwear.  Hef (Hugh Hefner, 1926-2017, founder of Playboy) came to the same conclusion dressing in a robe when at home.  I'd progressed beyond consulting the energetic oracle of the 易經 (Yi Jing) to dealing with a new sense of rawer energy vibe itself.  Never had I felt so alive.  I hadn't watched TV in years though I became an instant West Wing TV show fan when I caught some random episodes on pirate IPTV (internet protocol television or web TV) while doing repetitive biz work.  Enlightenment-wise, energy was blissfully retreating inward, showing no clues to the change that lay ahead.  I lived in a 100 home, poor, sky city housing development above floors of stores and car parking.  Multiple murders were reported happening in our 'hood.  I was now living where the poor kids had lived in high school.  Doing a heap of DIY helped make my home my own.  The sound insulation was amazingly proficient.  I rejected my available government disability monies.  Years later after being unjustly incarcerated however I felt more deserving.



After being turned down asking a stranger out for a drink I was assaulted on a deserted day lit street by a couple of sports hooligans, fracturing my right (obviously) clavicle (collar bone).  I was carrying a new pair of scissors but feeling no pain I didn't see a need to escalate things to that level.  The doctor misdiagnosed this as a non-issue and it was only years later that I became aware of how much damage I'd suffered; that the bone hadn't set.  This was at the start of my Dark Days, a period of energetic settlement and searching for reality deep within myself which I struggled for a decade to complete or even get to a comfortable level of.  These were the wrathful visions experienced during my awakening from Sidpa Bardo through these Dark Days of Chonyid Bardo towards the enlightened bliss of Chikhai Bardo (see chapter Reality).  I actually had known about this major life event since at least my mid-teens.  I was scolded for the negativity they heard in my describing it as 'dying in my early 30s' to my martial art buddies one night drinking beers (underage) in a pub after class.



At age 31 I pushed to leave London.  I was effectively without a decent, stable home for the next decade.  Choosing the Europan countryside I ended up in distant mountains.  Rediscovering nature in temperate paradise I enjoyed every barely affordable day.  Without the protection of my modern build, double glazed, concrete apartment with my self-papered & painted walls, Society ingressed.  My first imprisonment by cops occurred when I went to Hicksville law enforcement to report a theft by a local rube.



Surviving on Welfare and some business credit I desperately attempted to receive funding for my business.  I fell victim to usualness and past the classic warning signs to beware of what you wish for for you shall surely get it.  A half million dollar inheritance from my unofficial godfather, a physics doctorate who was part of the IBM barcode inventing team, and which could be seen as compensation for the permanent scarring he'd accidentally inflicted on me in my childhood, helped finance my move to America.  Barely existing on my Welfare monies this didn't just rock my boat, it capsized it.  Off I went playing with external (inheritance) group without thinking, realizing, that that's not what I did anymore.  I paid an exorbitant price for this Attack and largely blame it for ruining my comfy, healthy, on-track life.  Enjoying the upside of this brief period I made a pilgrimage to the home of movies; Hollywood, took in Beverley Hills, had extremely fun trips in chartered helicopters and boats, and first class air travel, stayed in 5-star hotels and rented a luxury, three bedroom, three and a half bathroom, virginal upper penthouse, with a hammock overlooking the Statue of Liberty (for only $12K/mn unfurnished).  It was possibly the second best apartment in the world.  The best apartment being in the Ritz Carlton residences next door with a higher and less obstructed view.



After official literature assured me that I could upgrade to a permanent US visa in country I was belatedly informed that I now had to return to London and wait.  I was unimpressed by the 'go Black home' attitude and unwilling to return to Blighty.  Investigating my options I checked out houses in the New York State countryside eventually choosing to remain legal and leave instead for Canada until the visa issue was resolved.  By the time I'd made all the arrangements and reached the border Attack said I'd overstayed by 21 days.  Managing to escape unnoticed at Niagara Falls (we've always had bad experiences near waterfalls) Canada then got nasty; arrested me for initially refusing to decrypt my business data (when I finally agreed they were too incompetent to find the second level, main trove of encrypted data which would've tested my moral resolve for my right to privacy), detained and questioned me all night then returned me to the US to face their authorities.  Lawfully I'd taken my websites offline while in America as I didn't have permission to work there.  I'd checked Canada's website earlier and read over their work visa requirements.  It appeared to me that I didn't need a work visa because I was working for myself.  At the border, however, it appeared that that was not the case.  After being told by the US ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) officer that I'd be incarcerated for only three days and with no end date given, every day became the torture of being restrained within a federal detention facility possibly indefinitely.  I stayed in my requested solo cell, coming out only to eat, and worked on developing apps.  After a noisy 26 days of refusing to cater to my vegan diet (my not wanting to eat bad quality meat) and undoubtedly poisoning me with GMO (and non-organic) foods I was bundled handcuffed into a van by two undercover officers and escorted to an airplane bound for Heathrow.  The USA admitted on my release that they'd potentially exposed me to a biological Attack; tuberculosis.  Overzealously I was banned from reentering for a decade.  Extremely they also informed me that if I took a wrong turn in Canada or Méjico (Mexico) and found myself not even in the US but only present at a border, even if because I stumbled in drunk or stoned, I'd be imprisoned for 20 years.  This weird yet extremely unlikely to manifest spectre has been hovering over me constantly reminding me of the absurdity of the draconian, American penal system.  When I finally got my $4,500 computer FedExed back from them I was dismayed to find it didn't work anymore; it was an amazing machine that they'd destroyed.  It sounds childish but it felt like a test.  Could I let them hit me, otherwise entertain myself for a decade and yet then still be interested in immigrating?



Being hit twice by First World governments again incarcerating me without due cause severely shook the Society man.  Again ingresses from an unwelcome yet too present Society.  I wound up holed up in an Attacked, Nederlands (Dutch) country house.  Eventually achieving decent distance I left a carnivorous diet and started a herbivorous, vegan one.  Finally with the space to dare growing my hair and beard I haven't had to cut them yet.  The Attack energies overwhelmed me.  In half a year five teeth broke (yet again mostly on my right side)!  Having grown a set of teeth twice already I'm confident I can do it again eventually (go biotech!).  I started noticing my day being split in two by Attack.  First, my progressive portion of my day / awake period where I could work but not do much exercise then followed by an ultra-Attacked second half where Attack overwhelmed us.  Although I had started experiencing Tourette in London this was the first of my sporadic, ultra-Attacked, bedridden, drugged, Tourette episodes lasting for moons or years at a time.  Living in a controlled environment as large as reality let it be at the time.  Always working and playing at a computer nonetheless.  Struggling to upgrade my home environment to a more conducive one and to feel positioned to restart exercise ASAP.



I spent the last of my money on accommodation and food.  Mobbed up, or otherwise crooked, NYC movers thieved my accrued $35,000 of American possessions plus the $7,000 I paid to move them intercontinentally.  I was stuck in a Catch-22 with the insurance which should've covered me yet I needed a police report but weren't allowed into the country to get one.  Nasty, money-grubbers.  Even the beautiful and exceedingly wealthy landlady kept my $12K Battery Park City deposit.  (Once even an NYC CPA robbed me for a few hunny; that megopolis is full of thieves.)



I was still consciously putting myself through a simultaneous double awakening; both spiritual and macro-social (of global Society).  For instance I previously had no idea that sixty million people are being killed each year in abortions or that Muslim doctrine preaches imperialist world war.  I'd never viewed the FBI's Ten Most Wanted list.  I knew comparatively scant info about global society or even American geography.



Idealistically, I faxed the UN declaring independence for the state of Terra Sanctuaria.  Coincidentally, within days a complex batch of insanely large Attacks culminated with me suffering abuse at the hands of the Brits who imprisoned me for ¾ year for being separate.  Defending my rights they were too backward to believe existed.  They had no grounds for suspicion (no probable cause, violating the US' 4th Amendment far from the US), only a 9ng (nanogram) result on one wrist suggesting that it had touched a surface contaminated with an explosive present in over 75 legal products, yet wanted me to bear witness against myself (violating the US' 5th Amendment far from the US) by decrypting all my business' data.  I stuck by my right to silence and neutral passivity, against Britain's counter-terrorism cops CTC SO-15.  For not complying with their order they attacked me.  They'd already seized all my personal and business possessions, including literally the clothes off my back, for some months by then.  How dare I own the fruits of our inheritance / compensation, the UK's energy was saying.  This was the first time I'd properly returned to the UK since receiving it.  Over a year later most of my property was returned; my fluorescent tube smashed and distributed throughout a full suitcase, my camera overheated when turned on and probably would've exploded had I not stopped it, now having to trash it, all violated, all therefore sold (because they reeked of atrocious Attack) for a fraction of their value.  Unimpressed by their extremely bad attitude, their Prove Your Goodness game and their quarterly day of imprisoned questioning I'd gone into hiding.  Attack wouldn't let me stay hidden.  One night, a month in, with surprising difficulty a heavily armed (with H&K MP5-Ns) team of cops invaded through the door of my apartment.  My convictions were for civil disobedience and subsequently skipping bail.  They deserved it.  They bullied me and I wasn't gonna play their sucker.  They destroyed my books.  Just like the obscene Nazi drive of 60 years previous.  Like a confused parent they even confiscated my balaclava!  Viciously they framed me for the worst two of the 13 charges!  13 charges leading to a 13 month sentence.  Was this the rise of surreality or an important message about the double-edged sword of fortune or both?  Was it even the UK's or other energy's attempt at karma?  Or simply 7DS envy & wrath?  Was I to blame?  It was I who was 'disobedient'.  Did I need to see myself punished for my 'undeserved' good fortune?  When had Society programmed this need for self flagellation?  The law I broke didn't exist a year previously.  It becomes visible how frivolously fickle this brutal experience was.  When you've seen such aggression as whimsical imprisonment there's no way back.  The aggressors are forever visible as such; the bubble's burst.  This apex experience, very gradually assimilated, was a real eye opener.  In prison the Brits passively tortured me for months refusing to provide pain medication (or crutches) for crippling, sciatic pain (the Attack weight of a 200 year old prison bearing down).  It felt like the muscles in my leg were being shredded.  Initially I passed out writhing in pain.  Over time the Attack lessened.  More than a month in I was in too much agony to lie flat so I propped myself up, still in too much agony to sleep yet after days I passed out and awoke to find scabs on my head from hitting the radiator after falling unconscious.  When I realized that I was imprisoned awaiting trial (presumed innocent) possibly indefinitely I seriously considered hunger striking.  Incorrectly advised by my idiotically green lawyer that I'd be released within a fortnight if I swallowed my pride and plead guilty I therefore plead tactically only to find a few days later it was false advice.  They attempted to use me as prisoner slave labor until my mental health label got me transferred to a secure hospital instead.  There was a half a moon period of the three moons spent in that first secure mental hospital when I was empowered enough to work on developing apps; some of my most advanced work.  It's weird how energy fluctuates.  If I'd chosen to stay in prison I'd have been released a quarter year earlier yet not been as 'comfortable'.  In a bizarre contrast my transport van passed the First Lady's motorcade en route.  I was a far cry from looking down upon the United Nations delegates protected by their block worth of Secret Service agents from my elite NYC penthouse.  In a jail newspaper I read how a famously 'innocent' prisoner accurately compared prison life to being "buried alive".  My story, at my beckoning, was published and made it onto[168], reached the eyes of the Electronic Frontier Foundation[169] and one of the few thousand interested voices on Reddit[170] compared me to a legendary human rights activist.  My 15 minutes happily used up yet not that big a bite at the hand that helped raise me.  During this period my distanced relationship with my parents disintegrated.  My father suggested my imprisonment may be justified so I refused to let him visit.  Wheeled in to the prison visitors' room to meet my mother she saw me slowly hobble over to the table.  She later told me she assumed I was being beaten by my fellow inmates.  Still she refused to bail me out, at no cost to herself and with my passport surrendered.  She refused to help, not even a loan of $1,000 nor $100 for everyday supplies.  I was left with barely enough to rent a five channel TV (75¢ per week) for the couple of movies each week and buy a pen & paper to keep myself mentally stimulated.  That was while in the prison.  In the hospital my 'pocket money' prisoner allowance stopped altogether while non-criminal inmates were receiving Welfare monies, there were no TVs in the rooms (though they and other non-communicative electronics could be bought if one had the funds) and I had no money at all for luxuries as non-criminal inmates had like the occasional pack of potato chips, stamps or pizzas.  No one else who could've helped me get bail did anything.  None of my old buddies and none of my family.  For many of them it would've been nothing.  Finally I knew that my old social and familial links were dead.  A few times my fellow inmates did cool favors for me; a piece of extra fruit when our vegan diet left us with less, that sort of thing.  It's a strange, dehumanizing, pædofying experience to be encaged and then looked in on several times during each day.  Maybe some children had to go through this with their parents but I didn't after a few years old.  It felt like the human equivalent of being a lab rat.  From what I've seen in the movies I was fortunate almost all of my cells had six walls (four plus a ceiling and floor).  In all of my year+ of incarceration spanning the decades (not including schooling) I've managed to get the overwhelmingly safer, solitary confinement for the most part.  The times when I didn't were the most dangerous times ever; literally sleeping locked in the same room as a potentially homicidal criminal.  There's a veritable homeliness to razor wire.  Only it's supposed to be that the dangerous are on the opposite side.  This instance of imprisonment buried some more of my humanity.  To need to mimic a stone-faced psychopath.  More dehumanization courtesy of Society.  My inner seriousness gained a preemptive attack of psychopathology.  I contend nothing can make one feel (comparatively) freer than a past imprisonment and thankful only to life itself I feel blessedly liberated by these experiences.  (Search for 'JFL RIPA' results leading to The Register, and SpyBlog.)



The spooky British vibe calling me a terrorist took years to fade (then was briefly resurrected in early 2017) during which time I was detained, searched and questioned, without a lawyer allowed to be present, on multiple occasions over the following few years.  Each time allegedly independent of the others; simply coincidence.  Later they started admitting that it was self-reinforcing; that the more I'd been stopped the more reason to stop me.  At a border they once confiscated a rolling pin which they did first identify as such.  Weirdos.  I hope the blame lies with an extremely paranoid culture that can't deal with eccentricity rather than being on a undesirables' watch & hassle list.



I choose to live a life constantly pushing the edges of Society, in constant Termination Shock, like the Voyager spacecraft pair experienced as they left our solar system.



In my thirties I started experiencing 'symptoms' (of dis-ease) known to Society by the label Tourette Syndrome[171].  (BTW I'm aware that the acronym is the same as for Terra Sanctuaria.)  This overwhelming energetic attack reaches back to very base perceptions of reality.  One's world itself shakes.  Energy uses me to speak.  It's the classwork of Clairvoyancy 101.  It's said that almost no-one gains Tourette late in life, so albeit feeling the outsider I feel everyone who suffers from this experience must be very special people.  Special to be that much in tune with the energetic waves of Attack in their environment.  Again we're drawn to empathize with a societal sub-group, with others.  We feel blessed by Tourette, escapable in the right environment.  In my NYC penthouse with ultra-novelty, ultra-high Societal status and enough funds for worries to be beyond arms' length, Tourette had no place, no hold at all, not even in the ultimate ant hill that is NYC.  Preaching tranquil awareness my own now seeing the Pit of Zell[172] of Society.  Sometimes the bliss of enlightenment includes the experience of the nightmare one's surrounded by.  A care-full balance of pace along the path must be focused upon.  Move too quickly, for example by too long immersion with psychedelic chemicals and the negativities appear uncopable.  Move too slowly, rarely appearing tempting on such a bright path, and the inanity, mundanity, shadowy aspects of Society appear to engulf one whole then start to chew...



From my north London sickbed I saved and saved in a megopolitan slum apartment, while a literal riot passed by outside.  With the anger I still felt from my persecutory incarceration it was difficult not to leave boxes of balaclavas on the street bringing a tiny piece of intelligent oversight to the public's rage.  Society is so fragile yet treats itself so roughly.  I saved enough to buy a tiny plot of land in a poor Second World Euro state, hours away from megopoli, in the foothills of the Transylvanian alps.  The neighbors came when I was away and stole my stuff, multiple times.  I hadn't the resources to emulate the more sensible locals and install high fencing and barking dogs.  Staying in a local hotel I planned to construct a home on my land.  Attack at the last minute showed my flawless budgeting to be wrong.  I couldn't pay my bill and had to flee with a temporary passport leaving behind a year's worth of work on paper.  This happened to be the year I worked on paper not a computer.  No comment =( except lesson learned.  When I later contacted them to pay and retrieve my work I was told it'd been destroyed which put their bill to the end of my list.  On a bus I saw a spitting image of ليبيا (Libyan) Col. Gadhafi; creepy.  Attack also tried to kill me in a traffic accident en route to the airport.  These were the only peoples I'd witnessed applauding a plane's successful landing, on multiple occasions; like it was a big concern of theirs.  On one flight there was this guy with Dead Eyes, the darkest I'd ever seen and I'd seen murderers before.  I can only imagine the types of organized crime that they were almost definitely involved in.  The Second World.



I had the flu for a few days a few years ago but apart from that once my retreat together with sensible hygiene measures have kept me totally free from contagious diseases for decades already.



By age 39 I'd traveled more.  More limits pushed, To Do checkboxes checked.  How was my inward energetic quest progressing?  Physically I'd spent by now considerably more time in foreign countries including First and Second World, USA and around Europa, and Third World Asia; Hippie-Trail नेपाल (Nepal), and tropical ประเทศไทย (Thailand).  I'd amassed over a decade, and basically two, of celibacy.  Again I'd regained fitness and started building muscle mass.  I'd quit the six year opioid painkiller addiction and the latest three year cannabis habit.  Responsibly as an intercontinental traveler I'd fed some friendly Asians their first taste of (dried) pear and received a homegrown banana in return.  To check off an item on my list since I was a kid I bought a lock and some picks and picked the lock just to be like a cool TV or movie star.  =).  Gaining more distance from any negative history surprising me (like ex-cons tracking me down), and for another fresh start I again changed my name.  Finally I abandoned my given first name.  In fact I was originally named after a Negro servant my mother liked as a child in west Africa.  That's how she saw me.  I really started living on Gaia not just within Society.  I drew my view of wild rabbits, watched a wild deer pack running free and a hawk catch a fish (on its second attempt), was butted by a bull, listened to wild pheasants, cockerels, cattle and sheep, got a close-up view of wild snakes, monkeys and peacocks, waded along a tropical beach barefoot in monsoon rain (I'm a pluviophile; a lover of rain) and drunk from streams to survive.  These allegedly easy things that cost so little and achieve so much.  Dark times remained.  During a moon camping on a disturbing landlord's barren land I shat in trash sacks until moving on after I saw their preteen boys playing with shotguns in the field I was renting.  In Nederland (Holland) I had to walk for three hours on a week empty stomach (I'd tried to last it out) to a soup kitchen because all my sources of income had mysteriously and unexpectedly dried up.  The Hell of NL.  Sleeping rough on a park bench (with CCTV and a box cutter on a wrist lanyard) for a few nights because the homeless shelter only accepted locals, a memorable act of compassion took place.  One morning a lower class guy working in a building opposite brought me a cup of coffee.  This simple, small act of generosity is far, far more than I've seen from Society in many years (albeit perhaps due partially to my retreat).  I the adventurer tried living in a mountain forest a few times.  It was cold enough and wolves roamed through my camp enough to convince me to return to civilization.  I could've erected a fence and quite possibly even built a cabin so probably it was the illegality of going and staking a claim on even distant, country, forest land that drew me back to London.



Business was slow to rise, yet never needing to rush believed I could wait.



Sometimes sacrifices can be made and  risks taken.  Positive energies are summoned up and negative Attack energies stirred up by every thought and especially every action.  The start of my software business together with the writing of this book from its energy that I had been working on for the past decade plus called new energies and Attacks into play.  The path I chose meant dealing with more and new Attack.  In the darkest of times, a period spanning several years, I batted away suicidal tendencies more and more, continuing for more hope.  Although the first book I bought on Amazon, in the '90s, was on suicide I've never attempted it, although I've been ultra-close a number of times; a box cutter to my carotid waiting for the despair or a Tourette tic to end reality, and once getting up to jump off a roof.  The EZ way I know but it takes moons to grow the poison and I've barely ever started.  Maybe this is why energy hasn't let me settle in any one home for a decent period.  Probably more a lame excuse for Attack =).  I've spent years into decades meditating & mediating in limbo for my angels to rise above my demons.  It doesn't seem correct to blame my mostly historic Societal programming anymore.  It's said that strength is built by adversity and that suffering teaches the most.  Maybe I found some solace in this.  I knew from one view my bright present was still just a bright future waiting in the wings.  On good days, invariably, progress is made, away from Attack and towards my goals.  The world can be rough but we're tough.  I had faith that with a bit of goodness in the vibe my low shall become but a story to tell and was confident my dreams would unfold and my world imagined would be made manifest.  Faith goes a long way.



For my Dark Days decade the goal was simple; a quiet desk, in a middle class apartment.  I've written and published this book now, given out for free, so there's no valid argument for me not to spend most of my time again working on my bizzy.  This apartment is such a powerful and necessary item for me that Attack didn't let me near it in over a decade.  I tried in a heap of different countries including heap in Europa where I have an explicit right to work.  This was my nemesis, this was my Holy Grail, this prohibited my progress.  I know this block sounds insane, then again so were years of being called a terrorism suspect.



For income I have like both my grandfathers and two of our blood uncles owned and run my own business, in computing, since college.  I'm an entrepreneur; a reluctant businessman, an enthusiastic computing systems developer, a programmer and I do some ecommerce.



I took some time away from my business and focused on this spiritual guide book.  It took me at least a decade of subconsciously collecting the communication needed for this book already around five years in the writing.


This work was dictated in part on a small phone while I saw myself walking through parts of my 'hood where I grew up decades ago.  Parts were worded in trains, planes, boats and automobiles.  In restaurants, cafes and hotels.  In the First, Second and Third Worlds.  Primarily typed up on a keyboarded tablet sitting up in Attacked beds in strange places.



I love reality, that's why I keep it.  However, it's a complex love / hate relationship.  My deep fury at reality is extremely tempered but I see it bubbling sometimes when it's safe to.  I like to keep it stoked.  It feels passionately inspiring, perseverance feeding and less destructive and dangerous than it sounds.  I planned to settle myself when it was time; when I'd achieved far more distantia to Society.  However, now that I have, I'm aware of a heap of reasons to stay pissed at reality.  It'd take like this book to really get into why =).



For years I found reality unwilling to let me settle in the First or Second Worlds and felt unwelcome and wary when in my homeland.  So I traveled the world in homebaseless limbo waiting for energy to settle and the facultas of funding to open doors, if these things were to ever happen.  I was trying to make a situation where I was stable enough to program enough to earn enough to keep afloat.  I felt confined to hot places so far from my home temperate environmental conditions.  Ultra-poor places so far removed from my historic, external Society.  It was as if my usual Societal energy was taking offense at my retreat and rejecting me out of reciprocity.  However, I needed to travel outside of the First World to refresh my body of comparison.  To wash away the hatred and aggression of the First World's treatment of me, a natural born First World citizen.  Realize, shout to my subconscious, that it could be worse.  Dark times remained.  Never-Never Land instead only ever ocean seeming an ever more enticing option whenever I could afford a big enough boat to live on.



A decade ago, although far less worldly wise, I felt vividly alive, almost untouchable.  Living through the past decade I put on weight, lost some fitness, broke some bones, got a tropical disease and again became mildly addicted to a variety of sedatives.  Eventually I started to bounce back as these creative energies and corresponding Attacks dissipated and the remnants settled into my My Attack (see chapter Attack (Evil)).  Only a fraction of my everyday Attack is the, albeit steep, price I willingly accept for choosing to interact with Society through this book.



I've known what I wanted for so long I got it into a database in 2006.  Since then I've been constantly, actively striving to manifest my plans.  A piece of land in America's temperate countryside so I can build my dream home and start to teach at my new meditation commune.  It fulfills my dreams while it helps others with their lives.  It's as deserved as fresh air, it asks nothing from Society and it satisfies me.  Then comes Attack and gets in the way.  With my faith in life and in myself I feel nothing's insurmountable.



In 2016 while in नेपाल (Nepal) I met a pretty, flirty Aussie Chick and went on my first date in a decade.  Of course I rejected the available casual sex.



As 2016 turned into 2017, on pain hitting along with a vibe that death was imminent I stopped drinking alcohol Cold Turkey, after three decades.  Maybe I'd never ever drunk a drop.  Maybe it was all a delusion.  Or just some of it.  My liver in perfect health, my skin no worse for the wear of drink, not one of my brain cells ever sacrificed, no funds ever wasted on the previously useful poison.  Since stopping imbibing alcohol my suicidal vibe / ideation has almost completely stopped.  I'd assumed that my suicidal energies were sated by killing myself slowly with alcohol but in fact it appears that I was keeping them alive with my drinking.  Staying dry is, on one level, a daily struggle but it does get easier with practice and way easier when instead using cannabis.  Since then me:organs have passed the normal tests.  I guess that me:body just didn't want to drink any more poison and I thoroughly agree with me.



Because I'd dropped out of college in debt my credit rating was non-existent and I was unsuitable for a bank loan, business loan or mortgage.  Claiming land in western Europa is near impossible.  The UK is extremely strict with their planning permissions.  I lived in a camper on island Britain for awhile.  The novelty and ownership was shiningly beautiful and it was warm, comfy and homely albeit seriously constricted.  The bed was too small and noise invaded through the not-very-sound-insulated walls every time I tried to do coding work and my hard drive crashed when I tried to do less intensive work.  When I had to stop alcohol an extremely large Attack dropped.  I encountered the biggest destroyer of lives; complacency.  I was deluded into selling my camper and trying to use the funds to move to the Europan mainland and boost my business.  It was a The Grass Is Greener Attack and in my vulnerable state I got swept along with it.  Other bad incidents afflicted my path around the same time.  A heap of energy liked getting high on alcohol, it liked it a lot and a heap of Attack liked me getting poisoned by alcohol, it liked it a lot, so a heap of energy was upset when my daily routine changed to being alcohol free and it wasn't shy in expressing its displeasure.  I did, however, manage to stay teetotal; a sobering change which took moons to adjust to.  I had sold my home and again had nowhere to live.  I moved back to London for an exceedingly dull couple of years.  Pleasingly, I managed a moon's pilgrimage to my ancestral homeland of Polska (Poland).  I shifted 30kg (65lbs) of excess body mass via strict dieting.  My Tourette making dental work dangerous, I patiently waited for extraction of my six teeth stubs under general anæsthetic.  My fitness returned after I restarted daily exercise in my makeshift home gym.



I started playing Social Networking on Twitter.  I clearly remember my first Red Pill.  I noticed someone point out that Muslims perpetrated 9/11.  I replied the mainstream 'normie' narrative that it was a bunch of terrorists and I didn't understand what their religion had to do with anything.  The friendly Red Pill dealer pointed me in the direction of relevant sections of the Qur'an.  My eyes were opened to something the mainstream never talks about, how the Qur'an encourages Jihad and its acts of terrorism.  From then on I was hooked on reading alternative political viewpoints and giving them a fair assessment for validity using my own astute faculties.  Not just consuming and believing the mainstream narrative like a good, brain dead NPC (non-player character in video games).  This slowly led into my White pride awakening.  Watching and reading Jared Taylor at American Renaissance, Lauren Southern, Tommy Robinson, Mark Collett and Jason Köhne at This Week On The Alt Right, Ayla 'Wife With A Purpose' Stewart, Martin Selner at Generation Identity, Henrik and Lana at Red Ice, The New Observer, Tucker Carlson, Ramzpaul, Kevin MacDonald, VertigoPolitix, Laura Tower at Defend Europa and all of White Pride Twitter.  Avoiding the National Socialists (the real, literal Nazis) because they align themselves with historic megalomaniacs, they'd disagree with my Whiteness and would most probably condone violence in our struggle for a continued White existence in traditional White homelands.  Obviously I'm aware that mentioning such Politically Incorrect issues will lose me >95% of potential fans.  I know that it'd be expecting a lot from my readers to instantly break through their Societal programming to see the validity of alternate views.  They can take all the time in the world.  If you, dear reader, can't yet allow for difference of opinion then surely this is as important a lesson as any other in this book.  Those readers who disregard this entire book out of triggered disgust at a differing opinion have missed this most important lesson.



In 2018 I eventually had enough money to again move away from London and into the countryside.  I returned to my roots with a move to Alba (Scotland, UK) and bought an almost new trailer by the sea on the edge of a small town of 10,000.  I had the option of instead buying an apartment or a cottage but I chose to buy my trailer.  It is only a few years old compared with the decades old apartments.  It's a detached property; a rarity for Britain.  There's no one above me, below me nor touching any of my walls.  I have an office, a small gym, a tub and a south facing deck with a sun lounger.  I'm proud of my tiny vegetable, herb and sprout garden.  Here I live quietly while saving up to afford to build the Terra Sanctuaria commune.  Life is a dance.  If I progress slowly, dance well enough, take my meds and treat myself to a late night weed hit Tourette doesn't bother me much.  My office again fruits and I've built a routine of work, study, exercise, cooking and the like which brings me much joy.



Vexed by the impertinence of reality to tell me that my IQ as a White person was below par I took a tricky yet fun 40 puzzle IQ test and scored 142 which puts me in the top ¼ of a percent of the population.



I was successfully reining in the impatient, never satisfied Gatsby wanderer in myself and I was pleasantly accepting my self-enforcement of the idiotic laws of my external Society.  I've learned the hard way that going head on against The Machine is atrocious for me.



I'm aware I've been programmed to be a wannabe American.  Via TV, movies and computer games.  As a preteen I had an American motorcycle cop and a cowboy costume, a Disney soundtrack record, a football rather than a soccer t-shirt, etc..  It was the American national anthem which played as my old computer games loaded.  It was Americans that were every character in every new movie.  They were all about the New World of the USA.  Then in 2007 the USA turned real nasty, enough for me to take their advice and back off for a decade.  Yet I'm still deeply in awe of its pros (no pun intended).  Plus with a criminal record, a couple of idealistically heated letters sent to the UN and this 'anti-social' book, to put it tamely, it's in question if I'd ever get permission to enter again.  When the country of my dreams burst this delusional bubble so violently it rocked my world.  It took me years and years to digest their actions.



Having read this autobiography you'll have noticed that I've been more often hit by Attack on my right side.  The five large hits I've mentioned plus as an infant my right pinkie finger was broken and now doesn't straighten and one night out clubbing a door was inadvertently kicked into my head by a bouncer leaving a scar by my right eye.  Seven injuries to my right side compared with basically none to my left, this is a pattern.  This is not a conspiracy theory.  Possibly one could claim this is a self-fulfilling prophecy, but they'd be wrong.  As I've written in this book, binarily dividing the colorful, complex world into primitives sees maleness fall comparably on the bad side (femininity on the good) which is Socially assigned to the right side (femininity to the left).  Is this a pattern replicated within greater society?  Are most injuries to people's right sides?  Is it only men this relates to with most injuries to the left side of women?  Maybe it's just me.  Maybe My Attack (the evilness that hits just me) has been hitting my right side since my conception.  Hitting my Virtual Model of myself; my Astral Body.  Probably I'll never discover the truth of this.  Way is.  Weird though, right?



I've dedicated my life to gaining a distant view; on the sidelines of Society comfortably looking both in and away.  If anyone else can also benefit then this is a good thing.  My house was right on the border of a borough.  My college campus room was in the very last house up on the hill next to the wilderness.  Since then I've forayed into both sides; further in and further out.  Finding a comfortable balance that's stable can sometimes still seem a work in progress because I'm forever striving for as much distance as I can comfortably survive.



Writing this autobiography was a most fascinating experience.  Getting into a mindset where I could look back on my life in its entirety.  Collating so many memories; good and bad.  I heartily recommend giving one a go.  Now mine is realized.  So...



Bringing my wisdom to intelligent people seems like a responsible and fun enterprise.  (Plus Chicks dig it!)  Changing the world one mind at a time.  With the enduring principle about figuratively teaching fishing, to those who can themselves teach others, I may one day feel that I've achieved good within Society in a way quintessentially unavailable via my digital biz.



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[6] Source: The Psychedelic Experience: A Manual Based On The Tibetan Book Of The Dead book by Dr.s Timothy Leary, Ralph Metzner and Richard Alpert (Baba Ram Dass).  See appendix III: Books To Read.

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[66] A report by the UN's International Telecommunications Union (ITU), published in late 2016.

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[165] Source: The Washington Post newspaper, August 16, 2016.

[166] Source: BBC News, October 13, 2016.

[172] It would be Pit of Hell but I don't believe in Hell.