in. deed.
"common sense is an oxymoron, don't you know we've got a war on?"
a phrase latched onto during an early evening walk by the stack over achmelvich way, i seem to recall.
Bob Fuscate
Showing posts with label Wolds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wolds. Show all posts
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
in response ...
Eschew… Now there’s a word I haven’t heard in … well, many years. A word as cryptic and obfuscatory as the act the slogan demands we eschew. Which I guess to be the point of the slogan. The statement itself contradicts its content, just like ‘Don’t give orders’ or ‘Hate Hatred’. A sloganistic form of the oxymoron?? As two agents once said, ‘truth is an oxymoron / don’t forget there is a war on’. Or somesuch. So … the slogan may as well read ‘Obfuscate!’ to my eye. In which case it says the very opposite of what it looks like it says. A classic obfuscationist technique…
But a car bumper sticker? This is strange news indeed. They are truly among us.
But a car bumper sticker? This is strange news indeed. They are truly among us.
Car Sticker
Saw a car sticker the other day, which if i recall i've seen before on the same car in York, saying 'Eschew Obfuscation'. The term seems to have a bit of a history...look at wiki entry for 'obfuscation'.
Who is the driver of this car? is the sticker a straight term? can it ever be such...it's loaded, but by who? Are there other examples of this slogan?
hmmm.
Friday, 4 September 2009
Lines of Enquiry
lines of enquiry for Parks...
does he know when reagan came to the wolds?
does he know of kozyra? does he think reagan and kozyra's presence in the wolds is linked? [surely it is]
what does he know of the whitby scene? is he aware of any coastal folk known to be/have been in the area/s regan and kozyra are thought to be active? has he ever seen the ball of wool and needles emblem?
i will add more as it comes to me.
does he know when reagan came to the wolds?
does he know of kozyra? does he think reagan and kozyra's presence in the wolds is linked? [surely it is]
what does he know of the whitby scene? is he aware of any coastal folk known to be/have been in the area/s regan and kozyra are thought to be active? has he ever seen the ball of wool and needles emblem?
i will add more as it comes to me.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Gold Cogitation
Just cogitating on the gold from Whitby - incidentally, not a millions miles from my own investigation zone. Meanwhile, plan is for a re-visit to Nelson Parks in the Wolds village within the next 10 days. aim to clarify some ideas arising from initial contact and Hexx-d visit previously. If there are any lines of enquiry you have, let me know and I will pursue them with him. also, trying to find the lost/disappeared notebook - or else ply Parks with enough micro-brewed ale to re-sketch them. Also. The nickname, Surly Early sounds too much like a sop to Searly? Too obvious...I'm in no mood to discount anything currently.
Friday, 21 August 2009
Fear and Boating in the Wolds
Following report is assembled from what is left of notes on Regan interview/journey.
Originals have been lost/disappeared, anything not retained on reporter's body has been *compromised*. Laptop frozen and pens hard to find.
Strange. The reporter when writing this selection is not aware of the ongoing investigations on the part of The Three.
Fear and Boating in the Wolds.
Following the botched attempt to find Regan's abode, I'm stuck in Wolds village Inn trying to plan for the next two days. After soft drink option was followed in trying to fall in to locals favour Hexx was sought from bar...duly rendered much of the afternoon/evening incomprehensible. Did manage to drop into semi-understandable conversation with a man name Nelson Parks. He has was of an inditerminate age, somewhere beyond middle age, but unable to ascertain fully due to the obvious ravages of drink and time. Older than seemed, the eyes and faculties seemed to be pin sharp. Insistent. Conversation rambled, but some nuggets did appear, though veiled by the fog of Hexx and locally micro-brewed ales, things didn't take much shape. [at this stage notes were taken and during one extended toilet break, Mr Parks filled a notebook with complex diagrams and maps with statements, all seemed interlinked, but protracted discussion failed to illuminate further. this notebook is now disappeared/lost presumed destroyed - more info to follow].
Suffice, the journey looked doomed to nothing. However, through Parks there were two strong leads.
1. The second day of the Wolds stay coincided with the Open Gardens of the village. Mainly the opportunity to view a series of disgustingly rich people opulent rear vistas. Koi ponds, faux stone minarets, formal hedge work and electronically rotated summer houses synced to the rotation of the sun. However, after garden 'J', Parks suggested a detour. Across the main street lay a stile and narrow grassed area sandwiched between two high sandstone walls, leading toward seemingly solid hedge and bracken. Once the 50 yards of long grass had been traversed it became clear there was a small route through the overgrowth. Pushing through led to a small gravel path that led a short way toward a clump of trees - mainly Ash and silver Birch - the high stone walls ran along to the trees ahead and overgrown foliage seemed wild and free to block light [almost like the 'wild' climbers and been encouraged up the walls] nothing looked to have disturbed the area in a while, but the path seemed maintained. Once we arrived at the trees the path abruptly ended with no suggested path, but there seemed to be the remains of a series of paths through the knotty grass and weed. With an approximate left or right choice I looked at Parks and he shrugged, 'You pick' he offered. I went right and headed toward what seemed the most easily reachable route around the trees. 'This is the only thing Regan left...they won't want you to see this...it won't make any sense though.' Parks was being wilfully confusing, but at the same time shed enough light on where we were. At least there seemed to be a point to it.
Either direction led to freedom from the walls and foliage, but imminent daylight seemed likely on my desired route. Eventually I found myself with Parks some several wheezy steps behind, at the top of a slight incline toward a relatively sized field. The wind blew patterns across the grass and the vague signs of paths through the grass led toward a series of structures. Small and almost lost in the grass, there seemed to be around 8 or 9 of them arranged in what looked like 5 'areas' - delineated by shakily constructed stone boundaries. I could swear it looked familiar...like a scale model of the Great Lakes. I trudged through the grass to each structure and found them to be either old bee hives or what looked like the homes for pigs you see on farms along the roads in this part of yorkshire. all where empty and seemed to have been emptied with the intention of something to be eventually housed in them. One had a rough construction that looked to be intended to use water to power a turntable [this is my assumption]. In the grass it was hard to discern whether the grass had originally been kept short to go with the landscaping. But it does seem that whoever was meant to be here had to choose there own path, their own 'path of desire'. Before wandering back to the path and the village I tried one last hive, it had the phrase 'This is what you look for' scrawled on the side, but inside there was nothing.
2. Nelson Parks had further revelations on the final evening of my stay, as he revealed more on Regan's whereabouts. The village line seems to be that Regan has a residence - alluded to as Woolly Knoll - and is rarely here. Parks has a different take, and though this is his own version, there seems to be a veracity to his information. The sharpness of his presence and the insistence of his discussion...seems trustworthy. Either that, or he's looking for a juicy kickback...not sure how. The tale is that Regan did indeed have a getaway in the village, well, on the outskirts, but was regularly in residence. Until 5 maybe 6 years ago, when his crashed car was discovered on one of the lanes. Regan was never found. He disappeared... Additionally Parks seems to spell it Reagon. He never explained why. He also referred to Reagon/Regan as 'Surly Early' due to his demeanour... Draw your conclusions.
>> Current status of Lone wolf: trying to get re-sketches of remembered visuals of reporters notebook. It seems Hexx has blanked his recollections of the specifics <<
Originals have been lost/disappeared, anything not retained on reporter's body has been *compromised*. Laptop frozen and pens hard to find.
Strange. The reporter when writing this selection is not aware of the ongoing investigations on the part of The Three.
Fear and Boating in the Wolds.
Following the botched attempt to find Regan's abode, I'm stuck in Wolds village Inn trying to plan for the next two days. After soft drink option was followed in trying to fall in to locals favour Hexx was sought from bar...duly rendered much of the afternoon/evening incomprehensible. Did manage to drop into semi-understandable conversation with a man name Nelson Parks. He has was of an inditerminate age, somewhere beyond middle age, but unable to ascertain fully due to the obvious ravages of drink and time. Older than seemed, the eyes and faculties seemed to be pin sharp. Insistent. Conversation rambled, but some nuggets did appear, though veiled by the fog of Hexx and locally micro-brewed ales, things didn't take much shape. [at this stage notes were taken and during one extended toilet break, Mr Parks filled a notebook with complex diagrams and maps with statements, all seemed interlinked, but protracted discussion failed to illuminate further. this notebook is now disappeared/lost presumed destroyed - more info to follow].
Suffice, the journey looked doomed to nothing. However, through Parks there were two strong leads.
1. The second day of the Wolds stay coincided with the Open Gardens of the village. Mainly the opportunity to view a series of disgustingly rich people opulent rear vistas. Koi ponds, faux stone minarets, formal hedge work and electronically rotated summer houses synced to the rotation of the sun. However, after garden 'J', Parks suggested a detour. Across the main street lay a stile and narrow grassed area sandwiched between two high sandstone walls, leading toward seemingly solid hedge and bracken. Once the 50 yards of long grass had been traversed it became clear there was a small route through the overgrowth. Pushing through led to a small gravel path that led a short way toward a clump of trees - mainly Ash and silver Birch - the high stone walls ran along to the trees ahead and overgrown foliage seemed wild and free to block light [almost like the 'wild' climbers and been encouraged up the walls] nothing looked to have disturbed the area in a while, but the path seemed maintained. Once we arrived at the trees the path abruptly ended with no suggested path, but there seemed to be the remains of a series of paths through the knotty grass and weed. With an approximate left or right choice I looked at Parks and he shrugged, 'You pick' he offered. I went right and headed toward what seemed the most easily reachable route around the trees. 'This is the only thing Regan left...they won't want you to see this...it won't make any sense though.' Parks was being wilfully confusing, but at the same time shed enough light on where we were. At least there seemed to be a point to it.
Either direction led to freedom from the walls and foliage, but imminent daylight seemed likely on my desired route. Eventually I found myself with Parks some several wheezy steps behind, at the top of a slight incline toward a relatively sized field. The wind blew patterns across the grass and the vague signs of paths through the grass led toward a series of structures. Small and almost lost in the grass, there seemed to be around 8 or 9 of them arranged in what looked like 5 'areas' - delineated by shakily constructed stone boundaries. I could swear it looked familiar...like a scale model of the Great Lakes. I trudged through the grass to each structure and found them to be either old bee hives or what looked like the homes for pigs you see on farms along the roads in this part of yorkshire. all where empty and seemed to have been emptied with the intention of something to be eventually housed in them. One had a rough construction that looked to be intended to use water to power a turntable [this is my assumption]. In the grass it was hard to discern whether the grass had originally been kept short to go with the landscaping. But it does seem that whoever was meant to be here had to choose there own path, their own 'path of desire'. Before wandering back to the path and the village I tried one last hive, it had the phrase 'This is what you look for' scrawled on the side, but inside there was nothing.
2. Nelson Parks had further revelations on the final evening of my stay, as he revealed more on Regan's whereabouts. The village line seems to be that Regan has a residence - alluded to as Woolly Knoll - and is rarely here. Parks has a different take, and though this is his own version, there seems to be a veracity to his information. The sharpness of his presence and the insistence of his discussion...seems trustworthy. Either that, or he's looking for a juicy kickback...not sure how. The tale is that Regan did indeed have a getaway in the village, well, on the outskirts, but was regularly in residence. Until 5 maybe 6 years ago, when his crashed car was discovered on one of the lanes. Regan was never found. He disappeared... Additionally Parks seems to spell it Reagon. He never explained why. He also referred to Reagon/Regan as 'Surly Early' due to his demeanour... Draw your conclusions.
>> Current status of Lone wolf: trying to get re-sketches of remembered visuals of reporters notebook. It seems Hexx has blanked his recollections of the specifics <<
Friday, 15 May 2009
In Reply
Spooky. So, our wolds-based investigator knew his stuff, it turns out. Kozyra doesn’t even use an alias. Unless someone else is posing as him. If it is really him, moonlighting as an ordinary DIY Joe, then I suppose he may want to be traceable to those who know him, his business contacts and associates of the last few decades. I wonder if he chose Elvington due to a likeness with Elberton, the location of the Georgia Guidestones? If he aimed for contactability, the similarity would perhaps confirm to close associates that this was the same Kosyra. If indeed he was involved (as I now suspect) with the guidestone project.
My supposition is that Kosyra was a mastermind behind the design of the guidestones, intending them to act as a magical beacon-location on the earth, along with the likes of the nazca plains, the pyramids, and the Egyptian needle obelisks (stolen and transported to Washington DC and London).
My supposition is that ‘Christian’, now based in Vancouver, was the ‘runner’ for the guidestone project, organising the deals with the quarrymen etc. My friend suggests to me the theory that Kosyra is the same man as Christian (or ‘Kristian’, as she spells it), and that he is actually now in Vancouver, using the York based alias solely as an online contact route, and that in actual fact no such Elvington-based offices or company really exists. I am not yet won over by this theory, but it is not beyond the realms of possibility.
My supposition is that Kosyra was a mastermind behind the design of the guidestones, intending them to act as a magical beacon-location on the earth, along with the likes of the nazca plains, the pyramids, and the Egyptian needle obelisks (stolen and transported to Washington DC and London).
My supposition is that ‘Christian’, now based in Vancouver, was the ‘runner’ for the guidestone project, organising the deals with the quarrymen etc. My friend suggests to me the theory that Kosyra is the same man as Christian (or ‘Kristian’, as she spells it), and that he is actually now in Vancouver, using the York based alias solely as an online contact route, and that in actual fact no such Elvington-based offices or company really exists. I am not yet won over by this theory, but it is not beyond the realms of possibility.
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Rendevous at Wooly Knoll? Part One
Excerpts from notes from botched interview with 'Earl Regan'. Identity of source withheld. Location, times and date not forthcoming. Some items in parenthesis added later.
Intention to meet Regan somewhere in the Yorkshire Wolds was raised sometime ago with 'Saul', friend of 'Stefan' [co-contributor of arts/literature journal, small scale publication, pre-internet boom]. 'Saul' claims Regan had decamped to small Wolds village and drifted into semi-obscurity, but meet up was 'not out of the question'.
Village seemed strong term, single pub and number of cottages, church and graveyard, antique shop. As it was the only venue of any description, headed to the pub [name crossed from notes, word 'Duke' vaguely legible]. Flaking paintwork and worn wood. Bar looks new, selection of ales seems idiosyncratic; choice titles inc. 'Ewe Pokey', 'Crooked Hook', 'Old Heady', 'Black Cat' and 'The Hex'. Latter is to all intents the stronger of the selection and popular with locals - from what I saw. Asked for a shandy...
Staff seem reticent to engage in protracted conversation, mention of Regan draws little reaction. Reviewing directions and suggested routes to village when man on the next table interrupts, stilted conversation reveals some information about Regan and seems to confirm his whereabouts in the area. However, likelihood of rendevous is remote. Regan is, it is believed, only a sporadic presence and is currently not at home.
[Further notes in this section erased or crossed out. Series of sketches and symbols - to follow with other notes from book 2 - fill remainder of pad].
Intention to meet Regan somewhere in the Yorkshire Wolds was raised sometime ago with 'Saul', friend of 'Stefan' [co-contributor of arts/literature journal, small scale publication, pre-internet boom]. 'Saul' claims Regan had decamped to small Wolds village and drifted into semi-obscurity, but meet up was 'not out of the question'.
Village seemed strong term, single pub and number of cottages, church and graveyard, antique shop. As it was the only venue of any description, headed to the pub [name crossed from notes, word 'Duke' vaguely legible]. Flaking paintwork and worn wood. Bar looks new, selection of ales seems idiosyncratic; choice titles inc. 'Ewe Pokey', 'Crooked Hook', 'Old Heady', 'Black Cat' and 'The Hex'. Latter is to all intents the stronger of the selection and popular with locals - from what I saw. Asked for a shandy...
Staff seem reticent to engage in protracted conversation, mention of Regan draws little reaction. Reviewing directions and suggested routes to village when man on the next table interrupts, stilted conversation reveals some information about Regan and seems to confirm his whereabouts in the area. However, likelihood of rendevous is remote. Regan is, it is believed, only a sporadic presence and is currently not at home.
[Further notes in this section erased or crossed out. Series of sketches and symbols - to follow with other notes from book 2 - fill remainder of pad].
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