JESUS CHRIST'S SENSE OF HUMOR (Or, WHY I ABANDONED 'A COURSE IN MIRACLES')

I quit studying 'A Course In Miracles' (A.C.I.M.) in August of 2001. 

Years of daily meditation -- including 2.5 years of short meditation sessions every 30 minutes, day and night -- had made me pretty proficient at it, even if I remained mostly oblivious to that fact.

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I could close my eyes to meditate in nearly any environment and almost always be in the meditative state within a minute or two. By ten minutes I was always DEEP in the meditative state where I might be shown Spiritually-based images or hear Words from The Holy Spirit.
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Considering that in 1994, when I first acquired Joel Goldsmith's book 'The Art Of Meditation' and tried to practice it, and it was about a month before I even knew how to position my hands correctly, 6 to 8 weeks before I ever once momentarily achieved the meditative state, I was pretty advanced now.
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When I first started, it was ONLY because I vowed to try meditating every day, regardless of outcome, and kept myself to that personal vow, that I finally achieved the meditative state after so many weeks. I didn't let myself get frustrated. I wasn't even sure then WHAT the meditative state was -- what it would be like when or if I got there -- but I kept practicing.
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I was already a decent "meditator" before I started working with 'A Course In Miracles', but I think all that practice for years really honed my ability. My old 'Dream And Meditation Notebook' is filled with all kinds of deep Spiritual insights obtained during my meditation sessions. Sometimes I would be shown an image which would clarify a Spiritual concept more than mere words could. All this greatly assisted me in my understanding of God, Christ, and our relationship to them.
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It was in one of my meditation sessions that I heard in my mind the words:
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"We have fallen asleep in God's embrace,

Having a nightmare that we are elsewhere."
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That became my personal Spiritual slogan and remains so today. My entire Spiritual belief system can be summed up in that one sentence. I believe it's Biblically true, too. (I no longer cling to *any* theological theory that I can't find convincing evidence for in The Holy Bible.)

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As I recall, it was also via meditation that I received the expression "reAlationship with God", which I have used often.

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The trouble that developed while I was going through the "Course" portion of 'A Course In Miracles' for the third time had only a little to do with the way many Biblical verses had been interpreted. Because of my years working with the Joel Goldsmith material, I had already become accustomed to "unorthodox interpretations". I knew for a fact (and it is indeed a fact which I still accept today) that many Bible verses have multiple meanings and sometimes one needs help from The Holy Spirit to catch the deepest Spiritual meanings that God has placed therein.
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So, interpreting Biblical verses in "unorthodox" ways was something I had already (unfortunately, in some cases) come to accept, and there was little difference in the overall worldview of Joel Goldsmith and A.C.I.M.
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Yes, there were times when I was uncomfortable with some of the ways that "Atonement" was explained in A.C.I.M. But I figured maybe my own concept was somewhat incorrect. So I learned to just go along with it.
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And I should mention that even today most dogmatic "orthodox" Christians would argue that I am still heavily deluded because, 30 years after my baptism by Jesus, I still maintain certain beliefs that would get me kicked out of most "proper" Christian churches. Examples: I do NOT believe in the Trinitarian concept in the same sense that standard Christians do (no, Jesus is NOT God!); and I am absolutely 100% convinced that reincarnation often occurs, etc. I hold these beliefs today because of what I've found in The Holy Bible after reading it cover-to-cover about 30 times.

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The real trouble I developed with the A.C.I.M. lessons -- and especially the A.C.I.M. text itself -- was that I had begun to notice statements I couldn't correlate, and no amount of "twisted translations" (or, Scripture twisting) could ease my mind and satisfy me that I'd found a way to make them work together, rather than contradict each other.
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I'd be thinking: Well, if Statement A is correct, then how can Statement C be correct also? And if Statement D is correct, how can Statement B be correct? And if Statement E is correct, how can Statements A, B, C, and D be correct? And if JESUS CHRIST dictated all this material to Helen Schucman, how can Jesus contradict Himself? How can there be so much as one single error in this massive book and Course?!
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A.C.I.M. is so astoundingly complicated, so mind-boggling in its complexity (despite the simple appearance of its aphorisms), that it took me almost 5 years of INTENSE STUDY before I began to notice some of these little contradictions, little cracks or fissures in the minutiae of the Text, Workbook, and Manual For Teachers. I believe that God has geared my brain toward a natural, frequent recognition of patterns, yet even so, A.C.I.M. is so indescribably intricate that it took me all those years of daily reading and contemplating before some discrepancies began to take form in my mind.

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More and more these little "continuity cracks" began to prey on my mind, making me uneasy. For awhile I tried to ignore them, but every time I'd encounter a new one, it would remind me of the others and it would start my worrying all over again. (And no, there WEREN'T a lot of continuity cracks - just enough.) And each time I discovered a new one, I would be reminded of the times I'd been diabolically deceived in the past, beginning with the Edgar Cayce readings; finding that Joel Goldsmith had been a 33rd degree Freemason; learning that UFOs and their occupants are actually demons, etc., etc.

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I couldn't help worrying that once again I was being fed 16 drops of deadly poison in a sea of beauty.

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I couldn't stand it anymore, so like I'd done before, regarding Joel Goldsmith, I put pen to paper. (This was still my pre-computer days.) I wrote a letter to Kenneth Wapnick who knew more about A.C.I.M. than any other living person.

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I gave Mr. Wapnick my background regarding A.C.I.M. -- told him how many times I'd read it and that I was currently on my third trip through the actual Course lessons -- so he would know he was dealing with a really devoted and true student of the material. Then, using my copious notes, I laid out some of the more important discrepancies I'd found, explained my concerns, and asked him if he could resolve these issues for me.
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He promptly sent back a cordial letter in which he addressed the questions I'd raised. Unfortunately -- I mean "unfortunately" in a very sincere way -- his answers did not satisfy me. Those he offered seemed like more "twisted translations" to me, and there wasn't really anything in his answers that I hadn't already thought of myself and tried applying without achieving a sense of satisfaction and peace about it.

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I really loved A.C.I.M. -- I desperately WANTED it to be REAL, to be a genuine communication to the world from Christ Yeshua -- the very last thing that I wanted to do was stop studying it and meditating on it. I loved it so much that were I to cease and desist, it seemed to me as if I would be turning back on an only child of mine that I dearly loved. 
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And I finally prayed to Jesus about it -- which, OF COURSE, is what I should have done about it FIRST!! Why did I go to Jesus about this as a "last resort" when it SHOULD have been my FIRST CHOICE? I have only one legitimate explanation: 

Uhp! I'm an idiot!

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I felt so concerned about this whole thing, and the world's foremost A.C.I.M. expert, Kenneth Wapnick, being unable to provide me with any usable answers only enhanced my uneasiness. So, I made up my mind that I was going to DISCONTINUE FOREVER my study of A.C.I.M. unless Jesus personally told me it was OK to continue. It would take Christ's own "stamp of approval" if I were to remain on this particular spiritual path.

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On July 13, 2001, I prayed to Jesus, explaining what I'd been doing, telling Him the reasons for my concern, and letting Him know that I would continue doing the A.C.I.M. lessons I was currently working on and that I would pray to Him about this daily for a total of 31 days -- a full month. I let Yeshua know that UNLESS He answered my prayers in some incontrovertible, unmistakable way, clearly showing me that He approved of me continuing to study A.C.I.M., I would simply cease and never pick it up again.
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So, the "31-Day A.C.I.M. COUNTDOWN" began on 7/13/2001, and Jesus had until 11:59 PM on August 12 to make me know that He approved of me continuing these studies. I kept doing the daily Course lessons until then, and I prayed to Him about it every day.

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Because I loved the message of A.C.I.M. so much, and because I really did NOT want to discontinue it, I felt very much as if I were about to "sacrifice" my only son, much like Abraham was going to sacrifice his only son Isaac in Genesis 22:1-19.
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In fact, the "Abraham / Issac" story from Genesis 22 quickly became my personal mental motif during that month of prayers. I reflected on how it seemed so similar, in one sense, to what I was going through. And, undoubtedly like Abraham before me, I was hoping that a Divine intervention would prevent me from having to "sacrifice" A.C.I.M. on the altar of Truth.

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I wasn't asking Jesus to do anything UNLESS He wanted me to continue with 'A Course In Miracles'. If He did NOT want me to continue, He could simply do nothing at all and I would quit forever after August 12th. Intuitively, I felt that IF Jesus were going to answer my prayer at all, He would probably do so on the first day of the "Countdown" (7/13) or on the last day of the "Countdown" (8/12). I guessed that simply because it would add even more weight to the answer, letting me know that He had clearly heard the prayer and was acknowledging the specific time frame I had imposed on it.
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That first day, I was in a heightened state of awareness: I was watching and listening to EVERYTHING and EVERYONE, so as not to miss a message from Jesus if He delivered one in some visual way, or perhaps through the words of another.
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By the end of Day 1, nothing had happened and my mind was exhausted from thinking about and analyzing every little thing I encountered throughout that day and night. For the first week, I remained in this heightened state of awareness.
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After the 1st Week, I relaxed some, realizing that Jesus might not DO ANYTHING, and THAT in itself would be the answer. So I remained very alert, but I wasn't mentally wearing myself out anymore.

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At the end of Week 2, still nothing unusual, nothing that seemed like a response from Jesus had occurred. Week 3 came and went and still no answer of any kind. I was still doing the lessons, and praying and meditating every day.
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It just so happened that I had scheduled a vacation that coincided with Week 4. I flew from Phoenix to Reno and checked into Room #1701 at The Sundowner Hotel & Casino.

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I went about the business of being on vacation but I maintained my daily routines. Being in Reno with all the lights and noise and activity, there was a lot more than usual to analyze. Everything I saw and heard I questioned: Could that be an answer that I should continue with A.C.I.M.? But I got nuttin' at all. Even MY overactive imagination couldn't reasonably twist anything into a nod of assent from Yeshua.

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It was August 12, 2001, THE FINAL DAY OF THE A.C.I.M. "COUNTDOWN". A whole month had gone by, and now I was pretty much resigned to the idea that He was not going to do anything, meaning that in 24 hours, "Abraham" (me) was going to have to sacrifice his "Isaac" ('A Course In Miracles').

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The day was uneventful. I was even kind of bored and looking forward to going home. I was working on A.C.I.M. Lesson #264 (for the third time in my life). At about 6:40 PM or so, I realized that I'd not yet done my regular daily meditation. (I'm referring to my normal 30-60 minute meditation sessions, over and above the short A.C.I.M. lesson meditations.) So I decided to go back to my hotel room to meditate.

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I took the elevator up to the 17th floor and walked to my door at the very end of the hallway. Right next to my door was a big window that looked out over many blocks of Reno to the South. I just stood there for a few minutes watching the activity below, and then I noticed that a few blocks away, only a block from the Truckee River, there was a Catholic church and people were converging on it from all directions. Obviously they were arriving for a 7:00 PM mass.
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[A few years later I discovered that this same church, Saint Thomas Aquinas Cathedral on West Second Street in Reno, played the part of "Saint Anne's Academy" (1968) in the very first shot of the Whoopi Goldberg movie 'SISTER ACT'.]

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I didn't think any more about this, just went into my room, set up a desk chair for meditating, turned out the light, closed my eyes, and began to mentally recite 'THE LORD'S PRAYER', which was my "gateway" to the meditative state. But an odd thing happened... I couldn't get my mind quiet. After 2 or 3 minutes I wasn't even close to meditating. I kept seeing mental images of that 17th-floor-view of people walking to that Catholic church down below. What the--?!
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So, I tried again: I centered myself, closed my eyes, and began 'The Lord's Prayer' from the beginning. Within 90 seconds I realized that I was mentally seeing the people converging on the church again.
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I tried at least 4 times to get into my meditative state but every single time I was disrupted from it by those same pictures in my head. This was so highly unusual that I couldn't understand it at all. I hadn't had this kind of trouble meditating for several years! And then suddenly it hit me: HOKEY-SMOKE! I'M SUPPOSED TO GO TO THAT CHURCH! No question about it, I KNEW for certain that I was being told by The Holy Spirit to attend that mass!!

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So I quickly got up, left my room, took the elevator down to the ground floor and began walking south to the church. When I got there, plenty of people were still arriving. I went up the 10 or so steps which led to a small patio area where the front doors were located. 

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And as I walked in I noticed something surprising to me: I was the ONLY White person in the church! Every other person was Mexican. I found an empty pew toward the back and moved all the way to the end, against the wall. I was POSITIVE that Jesus was going to answer my prayer here. ...But HOW? Was the priest going to say something that would hit me like a ton of bricks? Were one of the worshipers going to make a comment to me that Jesus would use as an answer for me? Was I going to experience a full-blown miracle inside this building?
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Well, the mass started and the priest spoke exclusively in Spanish. Other than a few words that I remember from my high school Spanish classes, I don't understand the language. Yeah, I would get it if the priest said "Haysooz Christo" or "mas cerveza, por favor", but other than that, I was in the dark. I could forget about getting a message via priest. And no one sitting around me seemed to notice my presence. Plus, they probably knew English to the same degree that I knew Spanish. I wasn't going to get any message from THEM either.
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I started examining the stained glass windows, thinking that maybe one of the verses or sayings in the design would seem like an answer. Nope. Nothing seemed relevant at all. I kept looking to the ceiling, wondering if perhaps I'd see a vision or something. Nuttin'.
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So, I sat through the entire one-hour mass, all in Spanish, examining everything in detail, and completely bewildered about why I was there. I was as sure as I could be that I had been SENT here by Christ / The Holy Spirit, and yet those mental images of the people walking to this church didn't seem to add up to anything at all. I was stunned, disappointed, and confused.
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The mass ended. It was now about 8:00 PM and the sun was getting close to reaching the horizon. The people got up and started heading toward the doors through which we'd entered, so I did the same. The whole group of us shuffled out onto the patio area just outside the doors. 

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There was a thin Mexican boy, about 15-years-old, standing on the patio and handing out official Saint Thomas Aquinas Cathedral fliers to the people as they exited. The kid extended a flier to me and I took it from his hand. I was in a daze and absent-mindedly said "Thanks" to him while I kept walking.

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I went down about three steps toward the sidewalk before I glanced at the flier I was holding. Right there on the front, in big bold lettering, it said...

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"By Faith Abraham Obeyed 

When He Was Called."

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I came to a dead stop on that very step and just stared at the flier in absolute, mind-bent amazement, my mouth hanging open. A moment earlier I was in a daze, now I was stunned. In shock, really!
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I slowly walked down the rest of the steps to the sidewalk. When I got there, I just leaned up against the traffic light pole and started reading the flier's main text. It said:

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August 12, 2001
"When we think of figures in the Hebrew Scriptures who prefigure Christ, we often think of Isaac, nearly sacrificed by his father, Abraham. Many great Christian Scripture commentators have written eloquently on the sacrifice of Isaac prefiguring the sacrifice of Christ on the cross. ... Both Abraham and Jesus were obedient in faith to the call of God. Both went on long, hard journeys and faced many challenges before claiming their final destinies in God's plan. The Genesis accounts of Abraham tell us he was a man filled with both questions and faith."
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It is no exaggeration at all when I say that I walked aimlessly through the streets of Reno for about 8 blocks like I was a hypnotized man. I was really in a state of shock because not only had Jesus VERY SPECIFICALLY answered my prayers on the very last day possible (with only 4 hours left in the A.C.I.M. "Countdown"), but He had done it in a way that was so off-the-charts creative that in some way it truly did blow my mind. Jesus had me sit through an entire, hour-long mass in Spanish, JUST SO THAT I WOULD BE ON THAT PATIO WHEN THE MEXICAN KID WAS HANDING OUT THAT PARTICULAR CHURCH FLIER! Talk about creativity and a Divinely imaginative way to answer an idiot's prayer! To this day I can't even THINK about that event without literally getting a physical chill.

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Of course I already knew Jesus was real: He had baptized me in an amazing way; He had appeared to me in dreams and had helped me to understand some of the deeper Truths in The Bible. He had answered plenty of prayers and brought me peace of mind. But this -- THIS! -- was beyond anything I could have imagined. Who could doubt the existence and the power of a Divine Man like Christ Yeshua after an interaction like I'd had?

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When I got back to Phoenix, I threw my copy of 'A Course In Miracles' into a trash dumpster at the apartment complex where I lived.

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Thinking about this whole experience a little later, I got to wondering why Jesus had done ANYTHING in regards to my question and prayers. I was already going to quit A.C.I.M. unless Jesus directed me otherwise. So that entire month, I had been looking for a sign from Him indicating that I SHOULD CONTINUE. It had never even occurred to me to look for a sign that I should quit because I was already planning to do that. If Jesus wanted me to cease and desist with A.C.I.M. (because, for one reason, the "voice" that dictated the entire thing to Helen Schucman was a demon attempting to pass itself off as Jesus) He didn't need to do a thing on August 12th, and I would have abandoned it all automatically on August 13th.

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But very quickly I figured out why Yeshua did what He did. The fact is, He knows me even better'n I know myself. And I know myself well enough to realize that had Jesus done nothing at all, I'd have quit A.C.I.M. on the 13th, but then I would have spent the rest of my entire life wondering if I was really supposed to quit. I would have second-guessed myself forever, always wondering, "Had there been a sign from Jesus to continue but I missed it? Maybe He gave me an answer in the affirmative but I did not correctly interpret that sign. Did I overlook the answer from Jesus because I was too dense to recognize it?"
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I would have tormented myself with questions like this for the rest of my natural life, always wondering if I'd missed out on an opportunity to spend a lifetime studying teachings that Jesus gave to us in an extra-Biblical source. (Note: I no longer believe there are any valid teachings outside of The Bible. Everything we need to know is in there, and the deeper teachings of The Bible are revealed to each individual seeker by The Holy Spirit as the seeker's mind expands enough to comprehend the next level.)
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But at any rate, Jesus took a proactive approach with me, letting me know via a very specific and clever answer to my prayers on that significant day that I should NOT continue with A.C.I.M. He didn't just leave me to "assume" I shouldn't, and wonder if I'd screwed up. He wanted me to know in no uncertain terms that A.C.I.M. was NOT from HIM; it was a deception that I should file in the trash. He increased my faith and allowed me to go on with peace of mind, knowing that I'd heard from Him personally and done the thing that He wished: to "sacrifice" that thing I loved because it contained "16 hidden drops of deadly demonic poison".

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Fifteen years after my little miracle in front of the doors of Saint Thomas Aquinas Cathedral had occurred, I learned something NEW about it.

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I have long maintained that Jesus has a great sense of humor. (And why wouldn't He, since through Him, God created humor?) And I also know from experience, and from The Bible, that Jesus has a fondness for harmless practical jokes.

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Well, I discovered that Jesus had played a practical joke on me while answering my prayer all those years ago. Naturally, I still have that church flier that the Mexican kid gave me in front of the church in 2001. On July 24, 2016, I reexamined that flier and for the first time I read some of the small print down at the bottom. It includes a schedule for all the masses at the cathedral. August 12, 2001, was a Sunday. Here's what the flier says about the masses on Sundays:
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SUNDAY: 7:30, 9:30, 11:30 AM, 5:15 & 7:00 PM (Spanish)

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I have always puzzled over why the flier was printed in English although the services were delivered to Mexicans in Spanish! I have always assumed it was a Mexican church and that ALL of the masses were in Spanish. But I discovered that on Sunday, August 12th, only ONE of the five masses were delivered in Spanish. All the rest were in English!

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Quite obviously, Jesus, with HIS POWER & CREATIVITY, could have found a thousand ways to get me to go to that church for ANY ONE OF THE FIVE MASSES! But He waited until the day was almost over and then He interrupted my attempt to meditate so I would go to the last mass of the day -- the 7:00 PM mass, and THE ONLY ONE in a foreign language. He had me sit there wondering, perplexed, bewildered through an hour of Spanish bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. And at the very end, when I was doubting everything and thinking I'd somehow fooled myself into believing I was supposed to go to that church, He has the answer literally placed right into my hand!

That SAME flier was being given out there at the end of all 5 masses during the day. I could have received that same message at any one of the scheduled masses, but Jesus rigged it so I'd go to that last one. He answered my prayers and got in a good practical joke on me AT THE SAME TIME!

Guffaw-Out-Loud! 

Oh, my Savior is a funny Guy! 

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May you bless & be blessed!!

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~ Stephen T. McCarthy

DIVINE IRONY (Or, HOW I FOUND GOD IN L.A.)

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I spent years telling people "There is no God in Los Angeles!" And in 1992, when I couldn't stand the place any longer, I moved to Prescott, a small town in Arizona (as seen in the 1971 movie 'Billy Jack'). I told all my friends that if I ever moved back to L.A., they were to put a gun to my head and end my misery. I still remember driving east on the 10 freeway, pulling a U-Haul trailer behind my car and flipping "the bird" at downtown L.A. as I drove past it. Ha!

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I experienced *massive* culture shock in Prescott, and after about a year and a half... I moved back to L.A. I had NO IDEA why I was going back, and I was doggone angry at myself for doing so. Logic dictated that I probably should have moved to Phoenix or Tucson but... no. I recall getting gas at a station just outside of Palm Springs, and while the gas was pumping, I kept asking myself: WHY am I doing this?! WHY am I going back to helL.A.?! I had no desire to do any more acting in Hollyweird, so I couldn't understand why I was returning, and I was truly upset with myself. Thankfully, none of my old friends put a gun to my head. 😌

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On April 6, 1994, one month to the day after having moved back, I was alone one afternoon in my girlfriend's L.A. apartment when I inexplicably had a heart-altering 'Saul-On-The-Road-To-Damascus' Spiritual experience which permanently changed me. To put it another way: Jesus baptized me and I found God in Los Angeles! (Wow! He hears, He directs, He has a sense of humor!) The irony was unmistakable. When I think back on that day, I'm always reminded of the 'Frasier' episode 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart', in which Frasier Crane said, "Well played, God!"

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Downtown Los Angeles, circa 1984.

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STMcC (a.k.a. D-FensDogG) circa 1984.

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~ Stephen T. McCarthy

 

HOW I LEARNED TO "WRITE RIGHT" (Or, WHO, WHAT, WHERE, WHEN, HOW & Sometimes Y)

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If you want to make it all worthwhile 

You've got to have your own breakthrough! 

~ Van Morrison 

'If You Only Knew' 

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God has blessed me in countless ways, and I express my gratitude to Him every day. (GiR; 1C47)

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WHERE THE HUMOR WAS BORNT 

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My parents were two of the many great blessings in my life. Both of them had a terrific sense of humor, and yet they were a bit different. My Pa gravitated to wacky stuffs (think: W.C. Fields & novelty songs), while my Ma's sense of humor was a bit more on the cerebral side (think: wordplay & satire). And both of them found Black Comedy to be quite funny.

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When I was a wee-wee boy, my Pa used to wake us kids up for school by suddenly blasting on the stereo the Roger Miller song 'You Can't Roller-Skate In A Buffalo Herd'. If you think you can be awakened for elementary school morning-after-morning by Roger Miller cranked "up to eleven" and you can still grow up normal... well, you is wrong, Wrong, WRONG! My Pa "was a pistol; I'm a son-of-a-gun". ("Am I gettin' through to ya, fella?")

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Thankfully, my well-rounded sense of humor was inherited from both of my parents, so I pretty much get a kick out of everything! And writing became an ideal way for me to express my humor. So, how was the desire to write bornt in me? I'm glad you axed that, because I've been waiting all this time to 'splain it to ya.

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JOHN-BOY GAVE BIRTH TO A SON 

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On December 19, 1971, when I was 12 years old, 'THE HOMECOMING: A Christmas Story' (which later became known as the pilot episode for the TV series 'The Waltons') first aired on television. I saw it on that date, and I was so inspired by the wannabe-writer John-Boy character, that I started adding "Boy" to my first name. The self-applied nickname never quite went away. I still have a copy of The Holy Bible given to me on April 6, 2000, by my Ma, and it says "Presented To: Stephen-Boy. WP&Z. From: MOM".

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So, yes, it was John-Boy Walton (Richard Thomas) who inspired me to put pencil & pink eraser to paper. 

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THE GREATEST SONGWRITERS 

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As a teenager, I really got into Rock/Pop music and collected hundreds and hundreds of LPs. It's my opinion that the two greatest song lyricists who have ever lived were Bob Dylan & the pre-'83 Tom Waits. In an old interview, Waits said that had there not been a songwriter named Bob Dylan, there wouldn't have been a songwriter named Tom Waits... or words to that effect. 

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In that same confessional spirit I can say that had there not been a songwriter named Roger Miller & if the Bob Dylan album 'Bringing It All Back Home' did not exist, you wouldn't be reading this blog bit right now, because I would have done very little writing. Roger Miller and Dylan's 1965 album taught me that you don't have to play by all the rules (adios, Strunk & White, you creativity-murdering bastards!) Roger & Bob taught me that abstraction can be fun; that a bit of mystery inspires deeper contemplation and that there ain't no shame in Maverickism! ("Am I gettin' through to ya, fella?")

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[I s'pose it's only fair to mention - in defense of Strunk & White - that Mark Twain said, "Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please", and I believe that also applies to the rules of Grammar, and stuffs like that. Learn it then burn it!] 

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I have attended some writing classes in my lifetime, but repeated listening to 'Bringing It All Back Home' was better than any of them. (And don't forget this: you can't roller-skate in a buffalo herd; you can't go swimmin' in a baseball pool!)

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RIGHTING STYLE? 

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My writing style - if we can be generous and call it a "style" - was founded upon Miller & Zimmerman & a bizarre hangover I had one morning in June of 1983. 

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FUN FACT: I believe I discovered my writing style while "so hungover" one morning in the bed of my pickup truck parked near the intersection of Ocean & Linnie Avenues, a block from the Venice Beach canals in helL.A., whilst typing on my "% 500 pound" manual typewriter. It was a twisted, stream-of-consciousness kinda-sorta "love letter". (Remember that! You'll need it later.)

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STREAM O' CONSCIOUSNESS: Trial & Errof 

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In the very early 1980s, I wrote a number poems that I liked quite a bit... and which I STILL like quite a bit, gosh-dern-it all to helck and back!! 

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But, having read stuffs by Jack Kerouac, I got it into my mind that I needed to write something that was true "stream-of-consciousness". Therefore, as a truly dedicated writer of the utmost dedication, I made several attempts over a couple of years to write the "perfect" stream-of-consciousness pome poem. 

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I'd start out with a pome pe poem subject, and then just start typing on my manuel manual Royal typewriter anything that came into my mind. I'd do this in my bedroom with a "Do Not Disturb" sign (stolen from a nearby hotel) hanging on the outside doorknob. I'd drink Kahlua all night long while I was writing. Eventually, I'd end up with countless pages of failed attempts crumpled up and strewn around me, and I'd be so jittery from so much caffeine consumed - full bottles of Kahlua through the night - that I'd be awake all night long, getting zero winks o' sleep. (True ART is hard on the body!)

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I was never able to write a purely stream-of-consciousness peom poem. My overly analytical and 'perfektionist' wiring, and desire to shape the writing (i.e., correct errors; change words here & there, etc.), made it literally impossible for me to write a 100% stream-of-consciousness pe poem. I gave up.

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JUNE, 1983 

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One day in June, 1983 (best guess: Sunday, June 12th) I woke up with a very bad & weird hangover. "Bad" was normal; "weird" - although not unheard of -was not normal.

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Me in my Chevy LUV Truck (sister Bonehead in the bed).

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Somehow... I got the idea to drive my small Chevy LUV truck to the Venice Beach area and write a letter to Terrill, the young woman whom I met in Los Angeles, who grew up in Holland, and who was then living in Greece. (Eat your hearts out, Chuck Thorogood ["I met a German girl in England who was going to school in France..."]. This is REAL LIFE, punks! 😎 This "shit could really happen!")

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I had no subject matter whatsoever in mind. All I knew was that I was going to write this gal a letter, period (.). So, I drove around in Venice until a parking spot against a curb whistled me over. I parked, got into the bed of my truck, sat down, and just started typing. I was 100% thorogoodly in the moment! (You actors and actresses know what I mean by that expression.) I wasn't the least bit concerned about formatting, punctuation, or spelling. I put the heavy, old manual typewriter's keys on 'All Caps', because I was too hungover to deal with proper capitalization; and then I just started writing anything & everything that instantly *popped* into my mind. For the first time in my life, my mind was AT  ONE with the typewriter keys (yuk!-yuk!). There was no self-censoring allowed, and I couldn't even be bothered enough to correct typos. The only thing that mattered to me was putting on paper - as quickly as possible - any thought that presented itself in my noggin.

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Within a matter of some minutes, the two-sided letter was complete, and I vowed to mail it to Terrill, although this was an aspect of my personality that she didn't know existed. Somehow the unique atmosphere and the bizarre hangover feeling had allowed me access to a creative channel that had previously remained unexplored, and even unknown to me. Writing that letter freed something inside of me; it removed some sort of mental blockage that, once excavated - as if it were a caved-in silver mine - permitted the "creative juices" to begin flowing completely unimpeded.

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Although there was nut'n the least bit poetic about it, and nothing that one could even describe as "lovely", the letter was 100% pure, barebones stream-o'-consciousness, and I mailed it to Terrill "as-is".

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As time went on, I realized that the LTT (Letter To Terrill) had been a massive breakthrough for me. From that point on, my writing took on a very free-flowing manner. Having done it once, I realized that I could henceforth tap into that creative conduit at will and I no longer felt even slightly self-conscious about what I wrote. I could write whatever I wished, knowing that if it got a bit out-of-hand, I could make adjustments later. {*See: Advanced Editing Technique below.} Such as toning down my natural tendency to write sentences so filled with alliteration that they can sometimes seem artificially contrived.

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ADVANCED EDITING TECHNIQUE 

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When writing nowadays, after completing my rough draft, I return to the beginning and start the editing process. If, for example, I am writing about an elephant, I remove everything that doesn't look like an elephant and I leave it on the cutting room floor. This gives me some additional space which I can utilize later to include more animals, should I think it advantageous to do so. Like, if I feel an opossum, a polecat and/or a zebra would make the elephant feel less lonely and might increase the paragraph's profitability, I will stick them in there when and where I can. 

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THE ENDLESS HANGOVER 

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I certainly do not think that the LTT was anywhere close to being the best thing I've written. But!... I unquestionably consider it the most important thing I ever wrote, from a strictly personal perspective. It was my writing "breakthrough" (*see the Van Morrison quote at the top of this post) primarily because it made my subsequent writings possible. (Look out, Roger Miller & Bob Dylan, there's a new kid in town!) 

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I believe that everything I have written since then - whether typewritten or computer keyboard-generated - has been influenced by that one June, 1983, letter to Terrill. I am quite possibly self-deceived, but I "feel" that my natural intensity tendency still exists in my writing (when its presence is necessary). However, I have also obtained an uninhibited, unrepentant, stream-o'-consciousness quality in my writing that did not exist prior to my LTT. That unrestrained freedom did exist in many of my sketchbook drawings prior to the letter, but it did not come into bloom in my writings until I let loose that strange letter to Terrill. 

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Saudade

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Half-Dead Self-Portrait

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I thank God (GiR; 1C47) and Terrill for the freedom to express the maverick me whenever I write anything. I should probably also thank whatever liquid "Evidence" I drank on the night before the morning of June 12, 1983, when I trucked my old typewriter down to the Venice Beach area. I don't remember what I drank that night, but it has certainly stayed with me.

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LETTER TO TERRILL 

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(If you're wondering where the "dog" is, you'll find it in the letter to Terrill.)

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Letter To Terrill - page 1

[click image to enlarge] 

> https://i.imgur.com/rpZjfDV.jpg

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Letter To Terrill - page 2

[click image to enlarge] 

> https://i.imgur.com/l3laN3f.jpg

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~ Stephen T. McCarthy 

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POSTSCRIPT: Extra Fun Fact...

On page 1 of the letter, I mentioned that I was planning to see a movie. After writing the letter, I drove back to Santa Monica, found Cranium playing pool in Jolly Jack's bar and convinced him to go see > 'Koyaanisqatsi' with me. For the next 39 years, that remained my #1 all-time favorite movie. And it really did change the way I looked at the world. So, oddly, two personally important & life-long inner shift-changes occurred in my life on that same day.

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HOW I FEEL ABOUT THE U.S. GOVERNMENT (Or, IT'S ALL IN BONEHEAD'S TWITCH!)

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[DOG POUND NOTES are simply random thoughts, ideas, and maxims that have occurred to me. I am totally convinced of the merit of some of them. Others may merely be food-for-thought or even outright Doggy Doo-Doo. I'll let you guess as to how I categorize each of them.]
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NO! That's not me. That's my sister, "Bonehead", as she appeared in the 1986 movie 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off'. That close-up of her occurred in a scene where Bueller's teacher was droning on and on and on...

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Every time I see that expression on my sister's face, it reminds me of how I feel about the United States government and "this world" as it is today. 

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(Very well done, Bonehead! You captured your brother's disgust poifectly!)

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~ Stephen T. McCarthy