Blood on the Page Mind

The picture on the left shows typing mistakes (I got a few in typing class) and for some reason editing is on my mind. It happens every time I read a book. Words out of place, awkward sentences, repetition, repetition, and using the wrong word sear my eyes and I itch for a red (or blue) pencil to edit.

Most of the time, mistakes are the result of laziness or lack of understanding (or education/training). Often the mistakes are a result of inspiration unwilling to stop and wait for the rational part of the brain to kick in and slow everything down. Many writers lock up the editorial and critical part of the mind in order to keep the writing flowing. If the flow stops, the writing may never get done -- or the writer off the ground. A few writers are determined to break and/or disregard the rules because they are artists and depicting the world as they see it, a world without the hassle and convention of rules to tie them to some outdated way of writing, and people unwilling to see the world as they see it -- without rules, eschewing convention and banality to avoid the petty, bourgeois mind. As if . . . !

And then there are the writers too poor or too lazy to hire an editor because they can do it themselves and the ones that never learned the rules and still sold a lot of stories and articles, believing "if it ain't broke, I ain't gonna fix it".

Whatever the reason for mistakes, typos, and a general disregard for polishing until you're so sick of it you cannot bring yourself to look at the work One. More. Time. I understand you, but I do not accept your excuses.

Or rather, the editor who lives in my mind won't accept anything less than the best, firm in the knowledge that pointing out mistakes, awkward sentences and paragraphs, sloppy punctuation, and repetitive writing are all an opportunity for the writer to learn and improve. It's a humanitarian endeavor -- and not a little kick of satisfaction when writing (and author) improve and change their previous bad habits. And then there is the blood on the page; that soothes a bloody mind.

I admit it. I mentally red pencil the books I read -- unless the writing is so good I am far more interested in what happens next than reaching for my red pencil. It happens rarely, but it does happen, and yet I still note the errors, just without the overwhelming need to feel a newly sharpened red pencil in my fingers poised to strike.

Maybe it is all those years spent as an editor (some of which are ongoing) helping writers make their prose tighter and their descriptions so real the reader wants to open themselves up and drown in the evocative writing that has me aching to show the writer where the book or story could be better. Whatever the reason, I accept that I am an editor at heart that loves books and enjoys writing reviews and critiques with the satisfaction of a gourmand served a meal at a brand new restaurant and still savoring the results. I am an editor at heart.

I am also a reviewer and writer and these facets of my psyche shall not be separated no matter how much time I take off from writing, editing, and reviewing because I am first and foremost a lover of books and words who cannot remember not being able to read. And that ain't Alzheimer's or senile dementia talking either.

That is all. Disperse.

Giants and UFOs and Disclosure, Oh My.

If you don't listen to or read David Wilcock at least check out his latest video (2 hours) about giants, UFOs and impending Disclosure. It's worth the time.



David got a few things wrong. Baal was a god worshiped in Mesopotamia and in Carthage. The Romans campaigned against Carthage to destroy it utterly because they wanted to stamp out the baby burning worship of Baal. Hannibal was from Carthage and crossed the Alps on elephants when he invaded the Romans. Maybe that is where David got them mixed up. Pluto was the Roman god of the underworld and Hades was the Greek version, and the Romans adopted (or stole) many of their gods from Greece, including the entire pantheon. Since it is becoming more evident that the gods were Giants earthlings believed were gods (who wouldn't when confronted with a being landing on the planet from the stars and standing 36 or more feet tall?), then the Romans adopted the Greeks' gods and renamed them or the Greek gods adopted the Romans after they defeated the Greeks and adopted Greek philosophy and civilization since they had none of their own -- yet. Sure does make the history I was taught and the history I came to believe in very different and always interesting.

My first glimpse of a very different history was through Zecharia Sitchin. Everyone told me what I spouted from Sitchin was alternative archaeology and history and handed me a copy of Motel of the Mysteries where future archaeologists unearthed a 20th century motel and proclaimed a new history based on the findings in that hotel, much the same way that archaeologist since the 19th century have extrapolated their version of history from a few shards of pottery and their vivid imaginations. I had read through many archaeology books, histories, and newspaper and journal articles and none of them struck me the way Sitchin's books did. Yes, I did fall under the spell of Erich von Daniken and I believed. Daniken was demonized and caught out after manufacturing proof for his extraterrestrial astronaut theories. That didn't make him wrong, just unpopular with the Powers That Be (and now Were) that wanted the truth hidden, going to the trouble of manufacturing evidence, faking records of criminal activities, and destroying careers of archaeologists that would not fall in with the party line that there are no ETs and never have been -- in spite of the physical evidence and carbon-14 dating that proved otherwise. The PTB have been busy for a very long time debunking the truth and black balling adherents of the truth, since the 1860s when men paid by the Smithsonian Institute, newly created by the Smithsons of England and in the Royal line, went about the world, and the USA, picking up artifacts and remains and dumping them in the Atlantic Ocean or hiding them in the catacombs beneath the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C.

I believed Sitchin so much I contact him when I still lived in Ohio and we spoke on the phone and corresponded during those years. I've been since informed by David Wilcock and Corey Goode by way of Corey's contact in the Breakaway Civilizations in Hollow Earth that Sitchin's tale was manufactured by the PTB and that he bought it hook, line, and sinker. So did I. So many lies, so much disinformation to hide what has always been in plain sight -- that the megalithic ruins found in every continent on this planet were built long before the peoples that found them and took up residence who were called their builders, which never explained to me why later versions of the pyramids were so poorly constructed and out of inferior materials. They found the technology and ruins and tried to replicate them, but didn't have the skills. What we see are their attempts at reproducing what they found, not what they engineered.

Then there is the Christian Bible and the Jewish Torah and their edited (my word) version of how the world began and the God that was really a combination of many gods, and a specific group of gods that wanted to be worshiped above all other group of gods -- or god. I haven't believed that version since I was 6 or 7 and my skepticism has grown stronger over the decades between then and now. I am not so easily gulled into believing any old thing and I never believed man has been on this planet for only 6000 years or that Eve is the reason for man's fall from Eden. I know a smear job when I see one and the story of Adam and Eve many people believe is a centuries-old smear job that always felt false to me. I'm still unsure about a lot of things, but not about that.

At any rate, even as a small child I knew the world was far different and more marvelous than at first it seemed. I am coming to believe that all the science fiction and fantasy stem from badly remembered dreams, misunderstood messages, channeling, and intuition, or direct connection with the past and the future that appear as dreams or messages. People who are schizophrenics, once revered as a conduit to God or the gods, are those who have always had the ability to pierce the veil between what we see and what reality is truly like, and medicated for the same reason that the indigenous peoples have been hounded, massacred, and marginalized by the white European races -- the ordinary person can't handle the truth. I, as one of those ordinary people, am here to tell you we see the truth and we will not give up without a fight. Medicate us, throw us in jail, discredit us, manipulate our minds, threaten and reward us when we get off the path, but we will not be completely silence or shut down. Time is running out and more and more of us are waking up to call foul and cut the rug out from under the Powers That Were until the truth that has always been out here is revealed for all to see.

What people do once they know the truth is up to them. All people like me can do is put it out there. The rest is up to you.

That is all. Disperse.