Exit To Tasmania

   I swear I could almost see the stale smell of cigarettes that enveloped the young looking man that sat across from me, like some classic cartoon.  If he (Alex) hadn't offered his age in our initial introduction through email I would have sworn him to be only in his mid twenties not his actual mid thirties.  Alex's age was only glimpsed in his eyes from time to time while we spoke, but the window's of his soul would have fooled you as well to think that he was much older than his thirties.   Alex was a chameleon without a doubt, the definition of not judging a book by it's cover.  When he spoke he spoke eloquently, graceful and mindful with the choice of wording and narrative.  As he vocally danced about he would quietly slip in a fuck or some other curse word that would jar you for a split second, I am almost convinced he did this to keep his disguise up.  Just looking at Alex one would question his motives or his background.   Alex...

  Sonora, Texas 4:28 a.m. 1995.   3,140 souls slept soundly in the early morning hours of a warmer than normal July.  The county seat of Sutton County, Sonora was just a typical small town in the Western Hill Country of Texas.  Sonora was just one of a half dozen small towns that Jim had deliver to that Friday morning.  Sweeping across the darkness he drove the highways and roads that connected these towns on his milk delivery route.  One stop after another like some version of a lactose infused Santa he made his deliveries six mornings a week climbing into his delivery truck at three am.   Jim didn't really mind the odd hours, the endless miles, or even the hard work, hell he couldn't remember a job he had that haven't at least involved one of those demands.  He enjoyed being off early enough to pick his boys up from school, one just out of kindergarten and the other in elementary school.  That was truly his career, being a father, th...

  Roy Neary had his mountain, his obsession, born from his chance meeting with a phenomenon.  Now before we go any further, I know what the reader is thinking, "there wasn't really a Roy Neary."  That's were you are wrong, they are around us and to be honest with my opinion Roy was an experiencer with balls.  He let his flag fly while I believe that the majority of experiencers still hide in a dark room behind a computer screen reading and watching whatever they can find on the phenomenon.    This blog is not about the subject of a fear of sharing one's experience with any shade of the phenomenon/paranormal color wheel of John Keel.  In the paragraph above I wrote that Roy had a chance meeting and this is the topic I want to examine today.   At a recent MIT Advanced Propulsion Conference Dr. Richard Grossinger stated in reference to how quantum effects won't covert to Newtonian machines in the following theory on conscious versus matter usin...

 It was the empty crib against the wall on the opposite side of the bed where his eyes went first.  The crib was vacant, his fiance wasn't due with their first son for two more months, but almost by instinct he scanned the four mesh sided and padded sleeping machine that soon his whole world would dream of sugar plums and fairies in.  By definition the reality that was unfolding around him should be considered unusual but even the strangest oddity can be familiar when it representation is as usual as another Wednesday night on a quiet block in the sleepy Texas suburb.   The room was dark, not in a horror movie kind of way, but in the way that every one's room is at three in the morning.  His fiance lying next to him sleeping so soundly, her grace and kindness even seemed to show on her face as she slept.  His mind was foggy from the his ritual of taking Tylenol PM before bed but his mind was rebounding and gathering speed quickly.   It had been...