Tag: personal

Writer’s Block

As a personal note to my readers:

I have had plenty of time to write over the last six months. No excuse, my discipline fell apart, my interests diverted away, and I am still struggling to return. I feel I should give you the anatomy of my writer’s block so you will understand. Your trust in my ideas begins with trusting me.

Beginning in November I sank into the rabbit hole known as Q-anon. If you know what that is, I need say no more, and if you don’t, there is no point trying to explain. It’s something you need to discover for yourself. I can only speak to those who know.

As we watched the week of BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM unfold, I feel I spent the time well following all things Q instead of writing. After all, my writing is about this Earth, so I must pay attention to what is happening now, as much as to what may have shaped the Earth long (or not so long) ago. It is all connected.

Every night I look at Saturn. It’s especially bright in the sky, at opposition to the Sun. I can see a moon, it must be Titan, clearly with the naked eye. It’s orbit brings it between the five o’clock and seven o’clock position every night, like the pendulum of a clock: Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock.

As I write, I listen to AG Jeff Sessions announce a zero tolerance policy on illegal immigration. Hardly a minor thing, but ignored by mainstream media. It’s the law of the nation, and is finally being respected and enforced. That is the job of the chief executive office. Thank God someone is doing their job. If you lived near the border that I do, you would too.

The world is changing NOW. As I write, a little bit of world peace is being restored in Singapore. As I write, a war is being waged and won, by the good guys. Corruption is being routed, and dishonesty is being exposed.

The balance between good and evil just shifted beneath our feet. The materialism and relativism of the last age is yielding to monotheism, and truth. The day the meek prevail – those of inner strength and quite ways – has come, led by the biggest bombast (and most sincere person) of the century. How ironic, yet appropriate.

I’ve been focused on the events unfolding, because they will lead to many true things coming to  light. The awakening will eventually get to science.

This last week, Anthony Bourdain died. I do not believe it was suicide. I do not believe anyone, let alone a dozen, or so celebrities, can hang themselves from doorknobs. I don’t pay much attention to celebrities, but Bourdain was an honest man. Honest to himself, which was evident in his writing.  His life needn’t have finished. I think he died for the truth. In that way, he reminds me of my brother Don.

In February, my brother died. Don was seventy-two. He died of heart failure in his sleep. A peaceful passing, but far too soon. The effect on me was like no other. I mourned my mother, and my brother Jim, as well as my cousins, and Aunt and Uncle – all who have died in the past two years. That grief I coped with differently.

It was a shock to everyone who  knew him. Don was a person who respected everyone, and that respect reflected on him with the amplified effect of our own distorted lenses. We all have faults Don didn’t have. He was something of an archetype to the family and those who knew him. The square-jawed Marine pilot. The confident Airline Captain. The person who would stop to give you aid if you were stranded on the roadside. I’ve seen him do that many times. Unlike many, he could be depended on.

Not that he was Jesus, but he was certainly different. This is not a eulogy for Don, however. I cannot yet bring myself to write one. Don’s influence on me, and the influence of his death, is all part of the change. One can’t be “red pilled” by externalities only. One must red-pill yourself inside. Don’s passing laid bare my dependence on him. It laid bare the contrast between us. The consequence is to recognize my own faults and manipulations, moral turpitude, and callous cowardice in the process.

I’m not sure I’ll be a better person, but I’m more aware of when I’m a shit. Maybe it will help.

As it relates to the Electric Universe, my stall-out writing Trailer Park Cosmology, Thunderblogs, climbing triangular buttresses, hunting Bigfoot and answering the many comments and emails from readers, I hope you will stay with me and understand I have much, much more to say. My hiatus was a needed black-out to get my own house in order – literally, since I’ve had to physically move residence.

Now that the dam is breaking. Now that change has begun, I feel so much better. I’ve been growing my hair for five months. It’s time for a ridiculous haircut. Look forward to more posts soon.

Thank you.

Jim

This weekend, I go to see my brother laid to rest. Jim, James Weldon Hall, Jr., Jimbo, Papa James. We called him lot’s of names.

Jim was my oldest brother, almost twenty years my senior. That made him different from an ordinary brother. His seniority carried more authority for me, like a mix between a brother and an uncle. Jim portrayed the best of both.

His kids were my age, so growing up, we all experienced his humor and pranks, his crankiness and even anger from knee-high on up. I never knew him when he was  kid. He was always an adult, a father and a leader. Jim filled the role my Dad left when he passed, for the whole family.

So, the hole he leaves is large. The sorrow I feel, I’ve never known.

Even when my Mom passed-away a year ago, it didn’t affect me this way. Of course, at 101 and more than a decade since her stroke, it was something I was prepared for.

Jim’s fight with cancer was always going to end this way. No illusions about that. Except for Jim, he never allowed himself to believe it. My faith in him and what he believed, I think, made the expected seem a surprise.

Part of my sorrow is for those who never had a Jim in their life. Anyone who knew him knows exactly what I mean. All his family and friends knew him in a uniquely connected way, because he was always there for them. For those who have never had someone there for them, it must be hard.

I’ve been fortunate, so this wake at the Ranch will celebrate him for all the love he had for us. All the time he spent with us. All the things he showed us. About how to be generous and have a sense of humor. How to be responsible, yet still have a barrel of fun. How to be caring, but never overbearing.

We’ll have a few beers and cigars, and wish him on his way. No one can change the way it is. We can only miss him.

He was Pa at the Ponderosa, Shackleton on the Weddell Sea, the Marine, the man at the helm, the friend we looked up to, and the leader of our pack.

Anyone who had the fortune and misfortune of a trek in the desert at night with Jim knows, he loved adventure. He liked taking people out of their boxes and seeing them challenged – stuck in sand, or high centered on a rock – and it gave us a taste of what a life lived is all about. Because he was always there to get us out.

His ashes will be blown across the desert in a place he once roared in a dune buggy. A place he loved, where adventure, fun and family, love and caring, and a machine to tinker with were the only things that mattered.

Peace, love and caring. Family, friends and caring. These are the only things of true meaning. What the hell is wrong with our world? Not enough Jim’s, that’s what.

Adios Bro, with all my love.

Willie Jo Hall

December 27, 1914 – February 16, 2016

Willie Jo Hughes’ life began on a farm in Amity Arkansas, running barefoot and riding buckboards before there were cars.

Hardened by dust bowl, depression, poverty and war, she grew strength and resilience no modern man knows… and a smokey, dark-eyed beauty, one never sees anymore…

She didn’t smile much, but boy, did she love sombreros…

She married a dashing man, who liked cool cars – James Weldon Hall, October 30, 1937…

From Dallas to Tucson, they came in 1938, to raise family – five boys, with mixed results – four retards and one prince…can you tell which is which?

With her husband and sons, she traveled the world…

But nothing in life was more important than blood. Brothers Vern and Harold, and young sister Faye…

And grandchildren and their children…. who love her, so, so very much, today…

We thought she was ours always – our matriarch, our compass and cause of our being…

But she’s gone to her Lord. Rest in peace, Mom. We love you and will always miss you…

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Updates to The Daily Plasma and “Leviathan – Part Two” will publish in a week, or two.