Tazlina South-West Subdivision

Welcome to Tazlina SW Subdivision where the secondary roads are muskeg trails hardly discernable from the paths large animals like moose and this friendly black bear use to find their favorite feeding grounds and watering holes.

This is the toll-bridge on Main Street:  Two large 12’ logs joined in assembly with ancient planks, old plywood boards, and  junk car body parts to form the makeshift bridge spanning Yetna Creek. "My parcel is over there," I say looking southwest. "Only 400-yards away."

The Alaska Department of Natural Resources (DNR) map their Public Information Center (PIC) made available on its website (for over-the-counter land sales) led me to believe that Otter Avenue, Muskrat Lane and the other so-called subdivision streets might be lined with stately evergreen trees shading traditional Alaska buildings of spruce, corrugated steel, birch bark and mud construction -- like the backcountry dwellings in my Lonely Planet guidebook -- but what I see as evergreen needle-filtered light fills rut after rut of tire tracks left behind by Alaska State Fish & Game Troopers with their all-terrain vehicles (ATVs) is the backdrop of sunset upon a marsh of infinite black spruce, birch and willow tree trunks and branches upon my arrival at LOT 1, BLOCK 2 of Tazlina SW Subdivision, Alaska: “According to my GPS device I am home!"

Night noises are virtually nonexistent save for the odd distant howling of coyotes and wolves, and the reassuring barks of old Sourdough Joe’s big mastiff one-half mile away at his impressive wooden A-frame cabin sitting on that large, fish-stocked pond I spied on the way here to this future retreat of mine. "This is the northwest tip of ADL204516." I tell myself, "Good. This site is already level and clear for my small cabin. It’s everything I thought it would be.”

Entering the exact area Alaska DNR surveyors used back in 1979 and 1980 to create the physical boundaries for my subdivision I feel half-gold prospector, half-runaway slave; but decide instead to wear the imaginary garb of a Russian Orthodox priest doing missionary work since history tells us holy-men were sent to build churches in the Alaska wilderness.

“And I have faith the people here will become converts in thinking American Negroes don’t all belong in inner-city ghettoes.” This I pray before suffixing a final thought:  "Yeah, right. And stone monuments will be erected to immortalize the first nigger to settle this place."

Craigslist: Panama

 

Saturday, 22 March 2014. Pension Meza #19. The drive I made down from Anchorage, Alaska to Guatemala City started on October 7th, 2013 and ended, about a month later, on November 2nd at El Parquedero Horeb: My 2006 PT-Cruiser's parked there across the street from La Pension Meza where I've been living now for nearly five months.

My CA-4 visa expires next month, meaning that it's time for me to move on and be South of Nicaragua and in Costa Rica by April 28th, 2014. But where to? Where do I go from here?

Answer: Cuidad de Panama. First, it's my intention to find cheap monthly (or long-term) parking; then, to rent an apartment or room for less than $350.00 a month in the San Felipe - Casco Viejo area; and, finally, to apply for political asylum (or refugee status) over my initial six months in country.

Visit http://wsduncanbinns.blogspot.com/ for all my defection details.

Any personal contacts, tips, and / or suggestions you all can pass along to me will be greatly rewarded. Thanks so much, comrades !!

“I'm an alien from Alaska and would like accommodation for 3-6 months or more from April to October 2014. Please send me your best offer soon. Okay? Thank you! http://wsduncanbinns.blogspot.com/ “

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mevb01

To vhc2s-4357495427@hous.craigslist.org

Mar 22

Estas buscando en la seccion equivocada. Busca en el area de animales pueda que algun chinito te compre para preparar arroz de combinacion. Esa gente come y vende de todo. los cesos de mono son muy cotizados en Asia. Te harian un favor. Total nadie te hecharia de menos y te ahorrarias la paga del alquiler. Adios mundo cruel....ja ja ja....

http://panama.es.craigslist.org/hou/4357495427.html

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------On Sunday, March 23, 2014 11:14 AM, Mevb01 <186088d862f536f3a2190d4627ba3a5c@reply.craigslist.org> wrote:

What is your e mail? I can help you if I find it is not a scam.
http://panama.es.craigslist.org/sha/4387589125.html

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Original message --------
Subject: Re: !AYUDEME! Seeking Political Asylum (or Refugee Status)
From: craigslist 4387589125 <ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org>
To: 186088d862f536f3a2190d4627ba3a5c@reply.craigslist.org
CC:

Buen Dia, Mevbo1: Thanks so much for your serious response to this matter (this time). Esta no es una broma. Yo necesito su ayuda con estacionamiento y alojamiento. Estoy buscando para un apartamento cerca de las areas San Felipe, Santa Ana y Casco Viejo en la Cuidad de Panama.

Mi direccion de correo electronico es: wduncanbinns@yahoo.com 

Y mi sitio web es: http://wsduncanbinns.blogspot.com/ 

De nuevo: This is not a SCAM. I am defecting from Los E.E.U.U.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------On Sunday, March 23, 2014 4:41 PM, Mevb01 <186088d862f536f3a2190d4627ba3a5c@reply.craigslist.org> wrote:

Hi. I can rent you a room totally furnished for that price, but not in the capital city. I can rent you a garage too. 350 usd including garage, electricity, water, internet, garbage bills. The room has A/C a small kitchenette. It is in Veraguas. It is in the middle of the entire country. 

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Original message --------
Subject: Re: !AYUDEME! Seeking Political Asylum (or Refugee Status)
From: craigslist 4387589125 <ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org>
To: 186088d862f536f3a2190d4627ba3a5c@reply.craigslist.org
CC:

Mevb01: Que bueno! Ese alojamiento en Veraguas me suena muy bien.

If you would be so kind as to reserve this room with garage for me, then you will have yourself a quiet but very reliable tenant for the next six months. Deal?

All I ask from you now is to hold this accommodation until I arrive next month. You can expect me to be in Panama by mid-April. Of course, I could leave Guatemala City earlier if this will 100% guarantee my residence there.

Puedo estar alla en Veraguas por la semana que viene si necesario. Digame que desea y yo hago mis planes seguidamente. Muchas gracias!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------On Monday, March 24, 2014 5:52 AM, Mevb01 <186088d862f536f3a2190d4627ba3a5c@reply.craigslist.org> wrote:

Goos morning. I send you some pics of the room.I am making some improvements so it will be better when you arrive here. When are you going to arrive here? I will reserve the room for you. If you find another acommodation let me know. There are good lawyers in this country that cqn solve your problem in a couple of months. I have a friend from Oregon who lived here and he traveled to Costa Rica each six months, stayed in Costa Rica 3 days and returned to Panama again. That way he had six months more. The ticket to the Costa Rica frontier is about 10 usd and hotels are from 15 usd. 

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Original message --------
Subject: Re: !AYUDEME! Seeking Political Asylum (or Refugee Status)
From: craigslist 4387589125 <ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org>
To: 186088d862f536f3a2190d4627ba3a5c@reply.craigslist.org
CC:

Buen Dia, Mevb01: Yes. I will need an immigration lawyer if I ever do get tired of being a perpetual tourist because what you have said about your friend from Oregon is the case with me: Six months in Panama, a few days in Miami, Florida, or three months in Colombia, then another six months in Panama. Back and forth indefinitely. That's my plan.

Now, please, if you would be so kind as to disclose to me some more pertinent information (i.e. name, address or GPS coordinates, payment details, etc.), then you can expect me to show up at your location very soon. Estimate: 4 April 2014. Okay? Thanks!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------On Wednesday, March 26, 2014 9:26 AM, Mevb01 <186088d862f536f3a2190d4627ba3a5c@reply.craigslist.org> wrote:

Hello. Did you see the GPS pics I send you?

Have a great day...

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Me

To ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org

Mar 26

Aloha, Mevb01: Yes, but I am having some trouble downloading the attachments. Sin embargo, no me importa. Como se llama su residencia? Es un negocio, no? Me gusta lo que veo.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------On Wednesday, March 26, 2014 10:31 AM, William Sherrick Duncan-Binns <wduncanbinns@yahoo.com> wrote:

Buenos Dias, Mevb01: Bueno. Ya llego en tres semanas a Veraguas. Estoy saliendo la cuidad de Guatemala del 13 de abril; asi no mas que despues del 16 de abril si no tengo problemas con las aduanas varios. Nos acordamos sobre $350.00 USD cada mes para mi habitacion y estacionamiento. Seguramente? Esta bien. Pues, hasta entonces. http://wsduncanbinns.blogspot.com/

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Me

To Mevb01

Mar 26

Mevb01: What is the exact name and address of this accommodation? Is it your place of business or personal residence? The attachment you sent me says next to nothing about the EXACT location. I've been searching Google Maps and there is no listing. I need better information. Thanks.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mevb01

To ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org

Mar 26

Write these exact words in google maps and you will see the exact address       barriada las americas 1, santiago de veraguas

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mevb01

To ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org

Mar 26

It is my personal residence. It is located in Barriada las americas 1 santiago de veraguas. You can take as reference Super Carnes de canto del llano, casa #6.

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mevb01

To ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org

Mar 30

Good afternoon. I hope you are fine. I want to know if you received the exact address of my house. I am doing some cleaning  and fixing your room. It will look better than you saw in the pics. Have a great day...

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Me

To Mevb01

Mar 31

Mevb01: Pues, tengo solamente una pregunta mas para usted y esta muy importante. Tiene usted hijos? Tiene usted ninos que viven por dentro o cerca de la alojamiento? No puedo vivir asi. Lo siento. Estan mal para mi salud.

http://wsduncanbinns.blogspot.com/

Pero muchas gracias sin embargo.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mevb01

To ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org

Apr 1

Do not worry. There are no children here. Just a senior couple. I just need to know if you are still interested because I have not rented the room to another person. Thanks...

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Me

To Mevb01

Apr 1

Mevb01: Que bueno! I will be departing Guatemala City on April 6th and I shall be arriving at your location within a few days. I expect to be on your doorstep before the 9th or 10th of April. Ceteris paribus. Esta bien? Muchas gracias.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mevb01

To ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org

Apr 1

Ok. Te esperamos pronto y mantente en contacto para saber por donde  vienes. Que tengas un buen viaje...

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mevb01

To ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org

Apr 2

Your room has independent door and you will never see them or listen because your room connects with the parking area and they are not in the same building. You can come here and see if you like.

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mevb01

To ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org

Apr 2

It is important for me to know if you asked about children because of the noise they make

My son leaves in the backyard and has  a 3 y.o. girl. But you can not listen the noise she produces because their room is far from the house not in the building. Most of the time they are not here. I live wih my husband. He is 78 y.o.and me 64 y.o.and we do not make noise and we are not here all day long. If there is another reason let me know and I would understand. Thanks...

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Me

To Mevb01

Apr 5

Mevb01: Todavía esto me suena muy bien. Estoy saliendo la cuidad de Guatemala mañana por la mañana a las siete de la mañana y me llegará en Veraguas muy pronto. Todas cosas estan buenas.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mevb01

To ktbzm-4387589125@hous.craigslist.org

Apr 5

Hi. I have just receive the impromptus visit of my friend from Oregon. He  arrived this morning from Ecuador and he is going to stay in my house. I can help you find a place for 300 a month with all utilities included. I know a woman who has rooms for rent.Sorry and I hope I can help yoi.

Enviado de Samsung Mobile

Houston (10)

Thursday, 26 June 2003. How I could not make myself count on the worst-case scenario playing out until it finally played itself out last Monday seems incomprehensible to me: I lost my 1996 Mitsubishi Mirage. Looks like I am being forced to start from scratch [square one] once again.



No, I didn’t total the car – I didn’t have to make bail to get myself out of jail – but I probably would have felt better if I had because, adding monetary insult to seized engine injury (i.e. sabotage), I lost $400.00 in paying a wrecker for towing services from Refugio to Houston. “Orwell!



“Life goes on.” Finding safe storage in town should be the first thing I do so that I won’t have to constantly keep track of my belongings. After all, this is the endgame. After Houston, there will be only one secure place outside of a maximum security prison to go: The Sea.

I am looking at [exile] from this day forward.

Well, anyway, since I no longer have a car to worry about, at least I won’t have to worry about parking fines, speeding tickets or insurance. I can move closer to downtown, catch the bus, or ride a bicycle, like normal urban folk do here.



“Room or furnished apartment?” Being the human moral equivalent of a cockroach, I should skip this step and go straight to the homeless shelter. Nevertheless, I think I might forego the desperation route and give myself another month to find decent housing. I have survived on much less.



What a terrible and nonproductive week I’m having. I feel horrible. Sometimes I feel worse than a zero – I can sense how the police must be smelling blood by now in the way they’re witnessing me being rolled like a flat tire – and from all appearances I must look like a ticked-off psychotic time bum waiting to explode. This isn’t the case, however. I know I have plenty of resources to fall back upon in the event I go completely broke. If I can move downtown, then I won’t have to worry about transportation or starvation.

In the worst case, there’s always the homeless shelter.

Tomorrow I will call around to find out if there are rooms available downtown. If so, then I can go and put my other things into storage because I won’t be needing them any time soon. If everything works out as hoped, I will get a bus pass, apply for unemployment and food stamp benefits, and then start looking for work sometime after July 1st.



Furthermore, I now have everything I need to pursue this boatbuilding enterprise in earnest: The plans, patterns, documents and books are in my possession. All I need to do now is choose a business name for my fledging company like “The Clandestine Boat Works, LLC.”

Houston (9)

Thursday, 19 June 2003. [Continued…] “And he has got the nerve to ask us for a proper and decent burial. He has the fucking gall to request a proper and decent funeral.”

Under US Federal Law this is my human right: “If I should die before I am able to leave the United States of America forever and for good, then I would like to spare my brothers and sisters the expense of having my emaciated corpse cremated and tossed into the Pacific Ocean. Haven’t I rightfully earned that much?”

Permit me to disclose how I believe (and feel) this benefit is deservedly mine: “From 1992 – without respite – to this very day I have suffered the trauma equivalent to American POWs (prisoners of war). I have been beaten, starved, drugged, tortured and interrogated in ways and manners both covert and clandestine; I have suffered the most terrible psychological and physical abuse under this ‘Shadow System’ of American government from the years 1995 to 2001, and so now I have afflictions exhibited only by victims and survivors of concentration camps!”

To say, “Fuck having a Persian Gulf War campaign medal. My military benefits should come under the Veterans Administration’s POW (prisoner-of-war) provision… Look at how my handwriting changes mid-entry. I must have multiple personality disorder now or something. I need to take my hypertension down a notch. I should qualify for 50% VA-disability.”

*In the future I will have more to write regarding my furtive beatings – and my clandestine starvation, drugging, rape, torture and interrogation – at the hands of CIA goons with full American police and military support. But for now, while my emotions are relatively calm, I must focus upon how I’m going to have my affairs managed whether I’ve complied with committing suicide or not.

What? Then don’t believe me when I make my wishes clear in Living Wills and submit accusations in Testaments like this:

“If you are reading this after I have been found dead someplace of an apparent suicide or mishap, then know about the direct CIA involvement that prompted my death: Without a doubt, I am dead because very powerful people in the US Navy with influence over FBI, Homeland Security, and other police organizations worldwide, convinced that secret hierarchy how my example would serve to promote respect for the American Flag and awe for UCMJ deferred reckoning.”

Houston (8)

Thursday, 19 June 2003. [Continued…] Frequently I have to be morbid and think about what death would mean to me:

“There’s a passage in Atlas Shrugged (John Galt’s speech) that makes death, if I am overly concerned about dying before I reach my full potential, look like no big event. If I should die now, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, during the course of plotting my final days of life at sea, then I will embrace death knowing that I died doing what I love most: Learning!”

Ayn Rand taught, “All life is a purposeful struggle and your only choice is the choice of a goal.” My choice and my goal is to construct a fiberglass sailboat to live aboard so that I will never need return to the United States of America ever again. I am choosing to leave the USA in order to start over again. I am choosing to rebuild what’s left of my wretched life within a society more open and more free than the USA – if you can believe that’s possible – even if this means I must reconstruct my worldview along Anarchist lines, then so be it: “It might be tough but it ain’t impossible for a dog my age to learn new thought-processing tricks.”

Ayn Rand asked, “Do you wish to undertake a struggle that consists of rising from ledge to ledge in a steady ascent to the top, a struggle where the hardships are investments in your future, and the victories bring you irreversibly closer to the world of your moral ideal, and should you die without reaching full sunlight, you will die on a level touched by its rays?” I answered, “Yes!” Once again:

“Now it’s no big secret that I’m planning to defect from the United States of America to Nicaragua when all is said and done. You ask, ‘Is this in protest to something?’ And how! You can’t imprison and torture me for refusing to wed something that doesn’t come close to my moral ideal. You reply, ‘You are a bigot and we will punish you!’ All I can say to take things down a notch is, ‘Hey, make sure you give me a proper burial.’”

The choice for me is whether to marry a ghetto-trash nigger bitch (with kids) or to spend the rest of my life alone (in Alaska). The choice is between choosing a more miserable life (married to a Black woman) than I already have in self-imposed isolation (exile) or being clandestinely put to death (via hepatitis-C and HIV) for not complying with the hopes and wishes of other people: The goal – according to the hopes and wishes of the Black Community – is to make an example out of me: To extract a kind of clandestine capital punishment in accordance with some unwritten secret American anti-miscegenation law:

Stop CRACK! “My eyes haven’t gone blind enough for me not to see that this is all punishment for failing to stay in my place (for failing to keep my self-image low) within the ghetto slum project housing blocks of Washington, DC.”

And, also, “Because I thought myself too good to be a lowly seaman for the US Navy in 2000 – or an organizational level avionics technician for VAQ-209 in 1994 – I now have to spend the rest of my life living like a boatswain’s mate on crystal methamphetamine – which is actually much better than servicing Waste Management garbage trucks in Miami-Dade County, Florida like some desperate crack head.”

Houston (7)

Thursday, 19 June 2003. [Continued…] The teachings of Mortimer J. Adler will help me give order and structure to this boatbuilding research project:

“Whenever I think about all the seemingly irrelevant directions I find myself going into – all the research reading that now seems unnecessary but will prove useful later – I must make myself think of it all as DATA. Whenever some of that data proves useful (in a serendipitous kind of way) I must think of my findings as INFORMATION.

“And at critical stages in my research, when I begin to feel sure about myself and about what I can accomplish, I will know that I have acquired the KNOWLEDGE to proceed with confidence; that boatbuilding will become something I can do with great skill.

“At the end of my evolution I hope to acquire WISDOM and competent boathandling skills.”

What’s more – in addition to (1) Data, (2) Information, (3) Knowledge, and (4) Wisdom – I remember Dr. Adler’s effective “Levels of Reading” needed to synthesize all this research: (1) Elementary, (2) Inspectional, (3) Analytical, and (4) Syntopical. “Outstanding! It’s all beginning to come back to me now.”

I reckon I can have my additional research materials bought by the start of next week when I begin reading “Writing Research Papers” and “A Grammar Book For You and I… Oops, Me!”

Houston (6)

Thursday, 19 June 2003. Approaching the stage now when I must begin taking copious notes of my researches, where ideas must be integrated and facts organized into a usable format or system, I find it necessary to purchase these additional items in order to preserve my findings for later recall: (1) a tape recorder to record the few nuggets of profundity I utter during my episodes of drunken speech making; (2) a digital camera to record in visual form the sights I encounter during my travels and to preserve the fleeting images of my locations and the steps I take in this upcoming boatbuilding project; (3) a programmable calculator – since a computer at this point isn’t likely to help me to improve my thinking or logical evaluations – to handle all the complex calculations I can now do by hand to plot courses and speed the modifications I am going to make during the boatbuilding process.

A computer at a future time will work for me in much the same way as a programmable calculator once I prove to myself that I’ve learned to write properly and will have something profound, interesting and important to say: “I believe that a computer chess program will do much to erase many long hours of boredom in solitude.”

Before the week is out I expect I will have completed my inspectional reading of Tools and Their Uses: “I will know what basic hand and power tools are necessary to fit out my workshop toolboxes, so I feel that I should now go about creating a list of the most useful items I’m going to need to complete my boatbuilding workshop. ‘Means of production’ items like  sawhorses, vises, c-clamps, workbench, handsaws, a power drill, circular saw and power sander are the basic tools and machines required to build Glen-L 7.9.

“Oh, Rocky!” ejaculated Dr. Frank N. Furter.

“That’s Glen-L 7.9 to you, draft dodger. And I don’t work for less than $125.00 a day. Take it or leave it!”

*The good doctor stepped up to the potent workhorse of his dreams and finally said after much premedication, “Let’s discuss your salary over a savory Villahermosa hotdog.”

But Dr. Frank N. Furter later fired Rocky and hired his mother, Vera Essie, who, having a much more robust attitude, would work for no less than $150.00 a day.

*Whenever I think of 10-horsepower auxiliary outboard dildos, I remember my Nicaraguan lover Elba and our naughty liaisons  a la “Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

Houston (5)

Tuesday, 17 June 2003. Isolation was the most inevitable thing I took into account when I decided to come to Houston. I knew that this summer was going to be the toughest summer I’ve experienced since 1995, and there has been none tougher since. “1998 was a joy in comparison.”

I brought projects to pursue, research tasks to keep me busy, so that my self-esteem can remain at a manageable level. My self-esteem is the paramount issue here in Houston as it was elsewhere. “I must continue to make my life worth living or else I’m a dead nigger.”

What? “You mean to tell me that the Negro community won’t sympathize?” I am not in the least bit surprised and I can honestly say that I expected as much:

“Sometimes the [magical] word nigger is useful for gaining all kinds of negro sympathy but it doesn’t always work. I am alone in all this struggle – the psychological sieges that occur every summer since I found the answers in 1995. And it gets worse during the rest of the year if I am not studying or holding down a job someplace. Orwell!”

The one positive thing I can gain from all this, in terms of isolation, is that there won’t be anything to get used to once I’m out at sea. A need to adjust won’t be necessary since I’ve always been alone. Over the years I’ve been able to cultivate a monkish, Zen-like approach to life without losing my sense of humor. Facing death won’t be a novel experience for me. I’ve learned to overcome pain and disappointment through the several years of mortification.

Quoted qualifications: “Facing death won’t be a novel experience for me either. I have learned to overcome most pain. I am at home with disappointment and suffering. The ocean won’t hold any great terror for me since I’ve managed to struggle through the recent years of mortification with a solid intrepidness left intact. No sea, however terrific, can terrify me as much as the United States’ government has been able to do. After facing FBI [snipers], Secret Service [unmarked vehicle pursuits], NCIS [arrests] and TDCJ [harassment], I now know no fear.”

“Make your mark,” Captain Slocum responded. “Welcome to the Around the World Club, sailor.”

*It has been three weeks since I’ve sent away for the plans for Glen-L 7.9 and already I have considered some modifications to the original design: The forward double berth should be converted into a mini stateroom since I won’t need all the space for sleeping. “There’s ample room for a desk of sorts with a bench, stowage, and a bunk someplace, all of one piece wooden construction.” (I should consult the IKEA catalog for ideas.) I don’t know the exact dimensions [yet] but I do believe there’s plenty of space forward for this.

[Continued] I reckon I should add two more terms to that category the FEDS placed me into [back in 1979]. But before I do I must say that this classification came about through observations some behavioral scientists made about me at Friendship House [in Washington, DC] four decades ago, which was a long, long time in the making: Evildoer! Satanist!

“Red Devil on archaeological digs in sandbox as baseball bats circle the occult cards and chess pieces” – a stupid, half-witted poem I wrote about devils sticking me in the ass with a Trinidad hooker’s pitchfork called, “Satanism: A Love Story” (1990).

Houston (4)

Sunday, 15 June 2003. Father’s Day has become a traditional day of mourning for me. A day which signifies all the things which are wrong about my life:

“Approaching middle-age and having the equivalent of a man released from prison after some thirty odd years does not induce paternal feelings I would care to write about, much less celebrate.

“What is my life except perpetual loneliness and [frequent] provocation? What is my life except the constant longing for things other [men] take for granted? What is my life, the purpose and meaning of it, except that it was meant to be spent on a life-term in prison and not in the arms of a loving wife and mother of my child?

“I am not supposed to be here in Houston. I wasn’t supposed to make it this far to see all things come full-circle like this. To see the purpose behind the years of suffering and the meaning behind all the most recent years of [psychological torture]. To see that my final destination was marked Huntsville opposite Lake Livingston: That there was to be a Leggett and a Bush and even a ‘city by the bay.’ It is a remarkable experience coming full-circle.”

[Continued] Another week is beginning. What I will do with it I haven’t been able to decide yet but time is not being wasted since I spend most days doing important research on boatbuilding and seamanship. I have been able to complete two books a week and, at this rate, I can have the “free time” to go looking for work next week since I will need fewer and fewer hours of research time.

After the 22nd of this month will be the perfect time to begin making my appointed rounds at the Human Services and TWC [Texas Workforce Commission] offices. [By then,] I will be up from Brownsville and will, finally, have all my pieces in place: My mail box paid for and all my things out of storage for the first time in two whole years.

What’s more, I will have the plans, patterns, books and documents on my desk for the first time also. Then again, maybe not. In any event, I can at least expect to begin construction in earnest by the first of September. I can begin constructing the mold – assembling the wood pieces needed, little by little, to construct the hull of the boat.

Houston (3)

Tuesday, 10 June 2003. [Continued]… Nothing changes the reality of my new life in Houston. I know what my reputation must be like here already. Therefore I hold no hope for making a smooth, seamless transition.

As I have learned to do whenever I arrive at a new location, a practice which came about through repetition in Amarillo, El Paso, Brownsville, and my recent travels in Central America and Mexico, I habitually listen in on police band broadcasts via shortwave scanner to find out what “things” must be like out there.

“This is a big city!” Much larger than Seattle and Washington, D.C. combined; I have acquired some idea concerning the attitude of this place towards me: Life is cheap and I’m a dead man.

“I could not have picked a more dangerous place east of Los Angeles, south of Chicago and west of New Orleans! I will not deceive myself: The first chance, the first opportunity, the merest pretext or slightest justification will suffice and be cause enough for the police to use deadly force against me.

“It isn’t an issue of me taking an aggressive stance but that that stance will be a matter of perception, as in: ‘It looked as if… and that was enough to justify the use of deadly force.’ The FEDS will make it their primary objective to bring that desired stance about.”

Writing in this journal each day makes me feel as though I’m communicating my final words in prelude to the inevitable execution: A man on deathrow asked to leave behind a few words for posterity before lethal-injection is administered.

“What could be the [true] cause of these feelings? That I’m under police surveillance 24-7 with FBI agents not even trying to conceal the fact!”

Reply: “Actually it’s because you’ve become suicidal and you keep a loaded .380-auto. We all know suicidal men are dangerous men.”

This ignores the fact that any rational human-being would be, or would soon become, suicidal if faced with my terrible reality: The constant threat of impending doom [a la MLK].

“It’s only a matter of a few days (hours perhaps) before police snipers decide my broomstick looks like a rifle and shots ring out!”

Whenever I step outside I am aware of the “crosshairs” on my scalp and very little else. “Hey,” the vigilantes reason, “If you’re really suicidal, then let us make your seemingly difficult leap into the abyss so much easier for you.” A pause, then suppressed laughter, “Stick yo’ ass out, motherfucker! Evildoer!” I force myself to think rationally and realize, “Shit, I’m not that suicidal after all.”

Houston (2)

Tuesday, 10 June 2003. I wanted to end my life but decided that changing my work schedule would be a better idea. I wasn’t getting enough done in the twelve hours between 5pm and 5am, so I spent two days off in bed to adjust my internal clock. It was quite an experience and change for me to go from not being able to get out of bed to not being able to stay in bed.

“Sunday morning I determined to sleep through the entire day (if necessary) to get an early start Monday morning. The ‘beer-for-breakfast’ approach didn’t work so I had four more pints Sunday evening. ‘Still no success.’ I found myself up early Monday morning as planned but didn’t find myself in a completely wide-awake state. I ended up sleeping – making myself sleep – through the entire day until, finally, I got up this morning at 4:30am. ‘I spent more than 24-hours in bed!’”

Call it quite a “hullover” [in nautical terms] and a cause for celebration: I can now be up every morning at 5am and get through a 16-hour work day like normal folk. “Sure beats suicide -- not to mention falling behind in boatbuilding research.”

Houston TX

Tuesday, 3 June 2003. It is rare for me to cover this much research ground in a single day and I give credit for the progress I am making to the vitamins I am taking. I am able to focus more directly on the purpose of this journal: Boatbuilding!

The plans for the Glen-L 7.9 are on order along with books I find crucial to the task. In the meantime I am attempting to get caught-up on some much needed foundational groundwork: Mathematics, tools and their uses, seamanship and boathandling; things I need to read now in order to make this [dream] of mine a reality.

“It is extremely hard work but if the Hindus can dedicate 12-to-16 hours a day studying astrophysics in third-world conditions – under conditions that make my circumstances look decadent – then I can spend at least eight hours doing intense boatbuilding research. ‘It’s all about information and applied science: You’d better know what you’re doing.’”

Right now it seems like a ton of work and it feels as if I’m going off into irrelevant directions but I know that all this knowledge will come together when I’m challenged with some problem in boatbuilding (or at sea) in the future.

Brownsville TX

Wednesday, 28 May 2003. Houston Calling! If it isn’t one thing it’s another. What else could go wrong? I haven’t had this much bad luck since I left Amarillo. How can setbacks be signified in monetary terms [here]? In my case, that’s easy: Calculator, camera, that $150.00 Western Union money transfer came up “missing”, and, to make shit a bit more stressing, the binding on my most important books (i.e. Chapman’s and my journals) are coming undone.

“What now? I estimate $500.00 USD in wasted expenditures. I will consider myself lucky if I make it to Houston with $1,500.00 remaining in my ‘expatriot fund’ after having secured housing and a new job.”

My to-do list before leaving here tomorrow -- did I mention that I’m back in Brownsville? -- is to buy a programmable calculator, a new camera, visit a bookbinder (that could probably wait), and send away for a replacement G.E.D. and my plans for Glen-L 7.9 and [other] boathandling books. I have all of June to utilize the mailbox here and I expect that I will have all I will need before month’s end: The plans, patterns, books and documents to pursue boatbuilding in 2003 and 2004.

Belize (2)

Monday, 19 May 2003. The IDEA behind this whole trip according to the objectives of U.S. Federal Law Enforcement is to undermine the confidence I have in my very own ability to survive [and] to succeed at anything I attempt to put my mind towards achieving. It is as if the F.B.I. wants me to lose all faith in my ability to think, to be effectively able to account, to plan and to execute any idea of my own since I must not trust my mind: I must only seek approval and guidance from the minds of the very people who want to send me to prison for a life term. To say,

“You see, you can’t even keep track of the things you own. You aren’t capable of running your own affairs. You need the Bureau of Prisons to give your derelict mind structure. You can’t cook and you’re not even toilet trained, Boogey.”

The F.B.I. wants me to believe that I am below normal in intelligence: That since I cannot talk or communicate effectively due to “brain fry burnout” I must be an idiot.

“Oh, yeah? Idiots don’t pass the LSAT and score perfect on reading comprehension tests, motherfuckers! Try something else.”

Wednesday, 21 May 2003. Combination? A long time ago, a sadistic third grade teacher told me to, “Never assume a goddamned thing.” I took it for granted that I would remember the numbers for opening my safe. The only issue of concern was whether or not my safe would be in Brownsville upon my return; whether or not the contents of my storage space would still be in place. “Do I remember the combination?” I tied those numbers in with the tragic events of my past life so there would be no way and no chance of my forgetting them.

Another aspect of MINDWAR is this constant pressuring, and if it isn’t one thing it’s another: I didn’t go to Tapachula MX and El Paso TX (lose a calculator); I decided to spend an additional week in Belize (lose a camera); I refused to rush up to Chetumal MX after experiencing another loss in Belmopan (forget the combination to the safe).

Worst case? “Now you have no choice but to return to the U.S.S.A. pronto. You need a programmable calculator. You must buy another camera. You need to confirm the safe’s combination. Hurry-up, hurry-up… wait!” I’ll visit a locksmith.

Friday, 23 May 2003. Harvest Time: “Your time is cum!” What began in 1969 must end in 2003: The United States Government has [set] a price [for] my death: There’s a bounty on my head.

Thirty-three years is apparently long enough and now these motherfuckers think it is time to send me to deathrow since life in prison would mean too many conversations with “interviewers” (e.g. criminologists, psychologists and federal investigators) – I said I could articulate their methods too goddamned well. Reaction: “Are you implying that the U.S. Government is attempting a cover-up?” Duh!

“Much of this accusation depends on what I mean by the word ‘prison’: PRISON could mean any condition which restricts Liberty in thought, in action, and in spirit. A lifetime in the United States of America would mean all of the above.

“I am the perfect case study and prime example for federal objectives – what with all those recorded telephone conversations I had during my Hitlerian youth, they [F.B.I.] are convinced that I am worth years of federal funding in a Federal Prison setting.

To say, “’Well, Joshua [Penrose Woods], all we need is a little wood and a little wire to get this aeroplane built… Yes, Alvin [Douglas Lucas], it is quite feasible – we need aeroplanes for our combined ghetto defense airforce.’ You see, I used to be a ghetto dictator…” It’s a complicated story.

Belize

Sunday, 18 May 2003. Tikal. I am now in the market for a new camera. Preferably a digital camera but I will settle for one that has a timer for automatic photographs. The Olympus I brought down here with me mysteriously disappeared. It went “bye-bye, bye-bye” along with the lousy pictures I took of Tikal and Santa Elena and Flores. No great loss: “Mount Olympus and masonry.”

I guess I need to learn how to secure my possessions a lot better in the future. At least I got pictures of San Jose, Livingston and Oxtankah. “Tikal and Flores have been around for over a thousand years. Santa Elena and the Bay Islands of Honduras will still be here when I return on Glen-L 7.9… [This] is all part of the learning process.”

Looks like all I have left is a pile of junk and an acoustic / electric guitar. I could get really down on myself except for the fact of hypnosis and the C.I.A. trying to have me killed by [thugs] in Guatemala – I am writing this entry at Dangriga, Belize: No change. (Programmable calculator plus digital camera equals $200.00 USD.)

Costa Rica (4)

Tuesday, 13 May 2003. “High Ass-Pucker” positions and triggering stressors make for a lousy life term: “You’re a Supreme Court Justice, remember?” I take account of the damage done and I come through it like some Boston male version of Diana Ross: “Remember, you’re a Supreme!”

And how could the F.B.I. make use of the fact that I didn’t learn to wipe my ass correctly until I went to a top-[tier] university: “Is he toilet trained?” I took that high ass-pucker pose down a notch where I could wipe my ass sitting down. “No, but [we thought] he was getting too old to do it standing up.” How old is too old? Thirty-four! (In my case, probably forty [due to] Richard Pryor service.)

And, so, now I take stock of the violence done to my life with the recent five years being the most horrible:

“I have lost everything I held hope out for / I have lost everything over some lousy whore / Nothing makes me happy except to sing the Blues / And when that’s over I can’t blame you / Because I’m a failure (chorus) A miserable failure who could never have you / You’re better off with Tico Pedro / Thought you’d do better with Gringo Joe.” – Roses are Red & Violets are Blue

What’s the Spanish word for HACKNEYED?

“I was completely devastated: I felt empty, utterly abandoned. I could turn to neither family nor friend. So, in consequence, I formed a terrorist cell and used Bill Clinton as my role-model. ‘Remember, you’re a Supremacist!’” (Wasn’t that Hillarious?)

I lost my calculator yesterday. I overpaid by at least two-hundred dollars on this “expedition”. I have sustained untold damage to [my] self and to my property.

What’s more? “Try to focus on the positive.”

I wanted to talk seriously about being Napoleon. That song and the above quote makes everything seem so goddamned trivial. “I am in some serious emotional pain – mental anguish.” I cannot express it without breaking down, so I try to make a big joke out of it. (It wasn’t funny [at the time] though it may have made some U.S. Government [personnel] laugh out loud.) Nothing can be funny about losing your family and your identity and your personality in the [timespan] of five years. And, when all is said and done, I may very well have lost health, too. “Then again, focus on the negative.”

*Priesthood. I am resigned to my fate. I have made myself accept a future without any friends, without a family, without any human emotional supports whatsoever. I consider myself the sole survivor of a family of experimental monkeys decimated through years of U.S. Government biological, chemical and radiological testing.

“I guess my immune system held out the longest. I am alone now. And it is necessary for me to always remain alone for reasons I have already disclosed in numerous journals: It isn’t [just] an issue of survival [but] an issue of [both] survival and defeating America’s beast system.”

What are the implications of [the above] quote?: Everything I write can be construed as a blueprint for terrorist action.

Back to the point.

“I have mentally prepared myself for life alone. I hold no hope out for having a family of my own: No home, no car, no wife, no children, no successful ‘lofty and high position in the legal profession’ kind of career. The only certainty in my future is suffering: Tribulation…”

And Gold Coinage: “When the United States government blackmails a person, somebody, anybody, back into the Great Whore Church of America, it is akin to finding a lost gold coin. All the federal law enforcement agents throw a huge, tremendous, gigantic party because permanent leverage and guilt tripping over your whole entire life is set forever and for all time. You develop a fear of GOD-U.S.S.S. and that book you failed to return over ten years ago will come back to haunt you when the F.B.I. confiscates everything that once gave you an identity.

“’Hey, don’t blame us. It was the Will of GOD-U.S.S.S. and his prophet, John Douglas.’ Scrub that house clean until you find that perfect triggering stressor, that high ass-pucker pose, that day witch will live in infamy, for that is your gold coin. ‘Trinidad and Tobago? – I’m Born Again, already!’

Okay? “For the men with the fewest Sins are the most guilty. The men who are the most blameless are quickest to accept blame. The word ‘Psycho’ will never offend a real psychopath.”

[Reaction:] “Oh, yeah? How about, ‘MLK Public Library!”

Costa Rica (3)

Thursday, 8 May 2003. My FACT FINDING mission is almost complete and I have drawn one conclusion: I have no future in America, whether that be in North, Central or South parts of the land mass. Forget about the Caribbean too for that matter; the U.S. government’s State department has these places “signed, sealed and bought-off” [for] the C.I.A. and F.B.I., partitioned if you will [by] the elite powers in Washington, D.C.

“These people [in Latin America] would have me shipped back and shot someplace in Texas for a few hundred dollars in U.S. currency. I am glad that I have a few thousand to get me settled in a new place like Houston. The idea is to start over and begin again so that I can get my new home [‘Vera Essie’] constructed and never again be chained to the shores and coasts of the U.S.S.A.”

Africa, and the remotest places in Asia and Oceania call me to ultimate invisibility: “Go to the Congo or the Pacific Islands and never suffer ‘The Great Satan’ [U.S.A.] again! Where could he place his agents? In the jungles and [on the] open waters, how could he conceal them?”

It is of the utmost importance that I construct a boat capable of operating in [both] the shoals of rivers and on the heavy and high seas.

Costa Rica (2)

Wednesday, 30 April 2003. The only thing that will ensure a productive month is my ability to get up [during] the morning [hours]. I don’t like what I’m doing (or not doing) here: Four weeks [gone by] and I haven’t gotten to work on my Spanish. The only thing I’ve been doing is writing (not very good writing), taking photographs, spending money, and gathering experiences for my notebooks on expatriation.

“Make yourself think, man!” I command myself. “Saying I am glad that I have cash stashed away but I don’t see how that will help me in Brownsville any makes no damned sense.” Futility is conquered.

If I fail to get up early I lose countless opportunities to further my objectives. What can be done in a day besides tying-up loose ends and keeping [myself] organized? I could find business and work contacts in other parts of Central America (e.g. Panama) and feel good about my chances at survival down here instead of wallowing in worry bred by uncertainty. “Failure to seize the [entire] day results in lack of [momentous] progress.” -Obviously.

“I think I should just try to apply for residency after visiting Puerta Limon… Immigration issues should be handled by lawyers I think.”

Saturday, 3 May 2003. Let me get this right: The US State Department has me categorized as a “pedophile-psychopath-schizophrenic-rapist-alcoholic.” Is that what they say?

Nervous Breakdown. “For a new pair of blue jeans and the American Flag I’ll put my money on us expats. After all I have leche pus pouring from my toes. So much for payback if I ain’t dianetic.” Mental paralysis ensues.

Monday, 5 May 2003. Cinco de Mayo. I have been in San Jose for just over a week now and nothing is moving in my favor. By now I had expected to have visited Puerta Limon and Panama City. I have done neither. I haven’t even gotten my room here organized, film for my camera, [or] soap for my showers. [I mean] considering little things like [acquiring] a towel to dry off with and [some] toilet paper would be of tremendous help.

How unconnected a thought [is this]?: “What would make this week a success is a visit to the boatyards of Puntarenas and Puerta Limon to get a sense of what I can expect in the winter of 2004 when ‘Vera Essie’ is fitted-out. Chances are good that I will make residency in the Bay Islands of Honduras as opposed to Costa Rica.”

Costa Rica

Monday, 28 April 2003. San Jose, Costa Rica. Back in country after a four year absence, I sit amazed at how little has changed. All my contacts are still in place and I seem to remember all the important places to get what I need.

I got here on the 25th (Friday night) on the TransNica bus from Managua and I’m glad I went that route: The ride only cost me ten American dollars. Already I find myself contemplating a return trip; this time all the way from here to Guatemala City to make the hassles of dealing with border crowds less hassling: To conserve money instead of blowing it on taxicabs and the miscellaneous hotel [room].

Something else to worry about?

“I will be fortunate to make it back to Brownsville  for my stuff by the 5th of June… Tomorrow I must send a [Western Union] moneygram or ship a payment via DHL to that storage place in Texas. I should’ve paid for two months instead of one but I wasn’t thinking straight. Orwell!… Withdraw 21,000.00 Costa Rican colones from the bank and find me more B-vitamins and do my laundry. Disorganized.”

Tuesday, 29 April 2003. The time for paying my bills is approaching. Dammit! I can’t deal with my dwindling cash roll… I only have $1,100.00 USD to work with and two months to spread it over. Doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to make it through all of June.

Let me try to break it down: $700.00 cash and $400.00 in NFCU. Okay, that’s $1,100.00 USD. My bills are $60.00 for storage and $62.50 to pay for the car that’s in Brownsville… That’s $122.50 (or $130.00 counting what I will need to pay for the Western Union moneygram or the DHL money order for shipping and handling). That leaves $970.00 for rent here and food:

“Seems like a lot [of money] until you factor in the price I’ll need to pay to get back to Brownsville: I estimate I will need $250.00 to get to Texas with… [surely] it will cost me $100.00 to get from Chetumal to Matamoros; not including what I’ll need to pay Mexican immigration.

“To be safe, I must have at least $350.00 for the trip back up north. That leaves $620.00 for May: $220.00 to stay at Mount Galaad leaves $400.00 to cover other expenses. If I save, I might make it.”

Nicaragua

Thursday, 24 April 2003. Somotillo, Nicaragua. I wanted to forget the past couple of days as days of un-coordination and monetary waste. The 22nd, the day I left Livingston, showed signs of promise until I hit Puerto Barrios, and everything went to shit. [i.e. Again:]

“Right at the pier when leaving Livingston, when my sea-bag came all undone, I should have sensed what bad things were to come.”

I paid too much for taxicabs, I tipped government officials too heavily – I bribed too readily, and I allowed myself to be suckered too easily. Little mistakes adding up to over-expenditures; little things (nickel and dime things) costing me big bucks in the long run. [Sin embargo,]

“I feel better by thinking that I’m helping the economies of Central America single-handed. Hell, they need the revenue more than the USA does.”

It seems that in a single day, today in fact, I went through more than $50-dollars USD. “That’s one night in a Motel 6 or Best Western hotel! Where did it all go?”

“I truly am learning the hard way.” From Puerto Barrios to the frontier of Honduras, and one night at a border [inn]: Approximately $10-dollars USD. From the border to Puerto Cortes, I [hitched] a ride with some petty government officials: Another $5-dollars USD. From Puerto Cortes to Tegucigalpa, I estimate no more than about $10-dollars USD. Now, here are where the mistakes begin: At Tegucigalpa, $12-dollars USD for the hotel; $20-dollars USD for taxi rides and beer; $3-dollars for the bus ride out to Nicaraguan border. [And,]

“Wait, it gets worse very fast!” $15-dollars USD to get my bags to Somotillo via bicycle and taxi; $10-dollars USD at the immigration offices of Honduras and Nicaragua together; and $15-dollars USD for the hotel room here in town. Total: +$50-dollars American gone.

I would call it a waste, an example of gross inefficiency, if not for the contacts I [have] made. “Have you found your feet yet?” With the information I have just acquired tonight, I am another step closer to having that livelihood I talked about: In the Bay Islands of Honduras of all places!

You can’t put a price on information like this. Many expats would pay top dollars for my contacts (over one-hundred), but here I have them, all mine, for the price of not knowing where the hell I was going [to go] or what I was going to do.

“Fifty American dollars? That’s nothing in the long run. Compared [with] another month of uncertainty, it’s peanuts!”

Contact information and purpose and processes, etc.:

1. Immigration & property issues; residency applications & [other] realty issues: MARCONI, AMAYE (Tegucigalpa) Telephone 504-237-3187 or 504-238-3889 (home)
2. Offshore bank account; money [laundering] & transfer of funds: HELENA NELSON (Banco Atlantia) Telephone 504-545-5592 or 504-455-1055 (home)
3. Property owner & business contact: EDDIE NELSON (Somotillo, Hotel Nelson) Telephone 505-346-2579, “Needs investors for property development.”
4. Useful contact in terms of establishing boating enterprise of some sort in the event that Eddie Nelson cannot be reached: GARY GRANT  Telephone 504-994-1544

“Resume and supporting documents will be useful for establishing business permits and acquiring a sponsor to support residency request.”

Someone will either have to sponsor me in Honduras, Guatemala or Nicaragua if ever the residency issue comes up, and it may very soon; I [will] have two options: get married or find a sponsor.

“Looks as if I will be checking out the Bay Islands of Honduras within a month to take photographs and formulate a business plan.”

In the meantime, I am headed to Managua and then to Puerto Limon in Costa Rica. [Afterwards], after about a month of looking for my old girlfriends, I will be headed back through Honduras for my island visit. “Perhaps I can head for the Bay Islands with my girlfriend.”

“Sin embargo.” I will nevertheless make May a productive month [regarding] other issues: “Si, sin embargo!”