GPS is always on my phone tracking where I am, on two phones more precisely. It seems the only phone calls I get are when I ping a tower to receive a robocall. In all the time I have been out of the States and even in China or in Colombia, nobody bothered to check their facts about, AC Grindl. People have been relying on public information for decades to see what I have been up to and so much of that time, fifteen years, I have not been within public domain. So, the only facts that people have are that I didn’t have a street address in the United States other than my parents since 2004.
If people were to rely on the information that others have given to them about me, what can be said? Not much as many of my records cannot be disclosed about being in recovery. There are not many instances where I call on friends for help or to tell them what is going on. So, the story about me seems to dry up quickly. I couldn’t say who has the most to tell about me other than my God mother; who insists I’m way out there based on a Facebook account that is long gone after my heyday in China. Which turned sour trying to get out of the party.
The reason I have my GPS on is so someone like Google can verify that I behave normally in a civilized manner and for one thing am good at getting around with directions. I even wrote a book about my normal life of trying to get my first book out Words Will Never hurt Me in my second book Bland Book. In it I describe how I go out of the house to print copies and send them off to publish my book for the public to read about my side of the recovery story. However, the public seemed to be engrossed with what they believed to have happened, never talking to me or asking questions. I had no word of my own situation. It was all happenstance and even the government and police efforts were there to say they knew more about me than myself. Needing no comment on my behalf.
The AI and authenticated services believed they can assume who I was and what my beliefs were simply by considering what actions I took online and in my writing. For one thing, my writing wasn’t even necessary to make a judgement. All the writing I’ve done has been an effort to try and relate to people how I feel about what has happened to me. The very movements I have been through and the nodes I have clicked are enough to draw a complete picture of myself. I try my best to have a personal nature and take deep consideration upon those that I encounter, both close and far, and still very little consternation is given to how AC might have more detail to the matter in question. There are no facts that can’t be surmised and the picture that others have of myself is quite transparent. It was not allowed to be painted on with my own thick brush strokes by the artist himself. Leaving the painting more of a distilled version of what was a reality on the onset of the piece.
The looking glass into my world is only made up of a medicated control group and those that have a short time in my recovery program. All the good friends lost, have no recollection of who I am and when asked to provide any critical detail shy away from even wanting to know the truth about someone they let go of long ago. Having no support line in the States other than social security, very few can ask around about the person trying to explain who he is from day one in this magazine. The books I have written try to tell the story. Because we all want to beat around the bush. I for one want to take the time to have the input when the input is offered. It’s like being on a diet from reality, when reality wants to be your friend. All that is tracking me has still left the people around me a very void picture of myself that I’m trying to fill.
