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Verity Diary

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Here’s a sampling of “The Curious Diary Entries of Verity Pennington” that was scanned from the booklet included in the new STURGEON CD entitled “EMERGE.”


The diary entries are reproduced from a personal journal recently discovered inside the hidden compartment of a vintage secretary desk that was purchased at an antique and collectibles show in Gaithersburg, MD. Numerous attempts were made to locate the diarist, including phone directories, public record search engines, property databases, etc., all of which failed to find any trace of a Ms. Verity Pennington (believed to be the name of the diarist), other than a fictional character listed on an internet role-playing forum.An exhaustive search for the woman’s uncle (including obituaries) also proved to be fruitless, leading one to believe that the record of experiences in the diary is most likely fictional, although it is possible that this is not the case.The “Masonic cemetery” with its peculiar funerary ‘graffiti’ also could not be located despite several searches in the area mentioned. After a final unsuccessful effort to track down any of those concerned, owing to the bizarre nature of certain entries written over a six-month period, the diary was placed on an online auction for someone with an interest in these matters.


Went with Uncle Hedley to that little backwoods graveyard near Ellicott City.Why he insists on being buried there – as opposed to another Masonic cemetery – is truly one of life’s great mysteries!The place is quite dreadful actually – secluded and un-kept; it’s shady walkways completely overgrown with knee-high dandelions.Cullen came with me, and commented that he could kill all the weeds with a homemade blight of Dawn liquid soap and vinegar from leftover pickle juice.Or one could smother them with a bunch of old newspapers to block out any sunlight. (Sunlight?)Rather than newspapers or any malignancy of pickle juice I suggested that we eradicate these dog pisses with gallons of Roundup from the nearby “Feed And Seed.”Better yet, scorch ‘em with a flamethrower.

And guess what? I thought I saw a black dog moving by the entrance.Just as I was about to point it out, it suddenly vanished. This freaked me out a bit, but as I joked with Cullen, it was exactly the kind of specter one might expect in a brooding place like this. That and weird glows.Something else that I noticed – and these were REAL! – were some rather peculiar tomb inscriptions, especially the DOUBLE MARKERS, in which the SAME person was buried side by side, but with different death dates.Stranger still were the two different dates of death for the deceased on a SINGLE MARKER!Errors possibly?As with some spelling discrepancies?I could understand a family using the same grave plot twice, but why on earth were the death dates so close to one another? Intriguing, I have to admit. (Leave it to Hedley!)But I almost laughed at what was written on one mossy, weathered headstone: “TO HIM WHO KNOCKS IT SHALL BE OPENED.”Judging by the expression on his face, this seemed to have spooked my ne’er-do-well boyfriend from the vortex of the Eastern Shore, who, I’m afraid, my uncle is still not particularly fond of.What I (affectionately) call a “slacker”, he refers to as a “wastrel.” And although I didn’t get it – unless, of course, it simply has to do with one ascending to heaven in the afterlife? – of special significance to Hedley was theinscription: NON OMNIS MORIAR.This he translated as “Not All Of Me Shall Die.”Great.

Uncle Hedley explained that the cemetery was the property of colonial-era Freemasons, and that they allowed blacks who couldn’t afford a proper burial to be interred there (along with whites). Some of these were victims of an epidemic of spotted fever that struck in the 1890s.He then added - in all seriousness - that all those who were buried here were very wealthy.I took this remark as further evidence that my poor eccentric uncle’s liver disease was getting worse – with one of the symptoms being confusion.He also appeared to be very fatigued, and was constantly scratching his itchy skin. I can only hope that he is restricting his intake of salt and protein.Diet is most important.Now, try telling that to Cullen with his greasy Utz potato chips and bacon-cheeseburger dip!

Of course we couldn’t leave the fetid boneyard without Uncle Hedley sharing some more Masonic claptrap - this time involving certain mathematical puzzles contained in the 1792 almanac (or journal) of Benjamin M. Banneker, the African-American farmer- astronomer who lived near these parts long ago. If I remember correctly, this was something about Banneker’s lucky star, Sirius, being a double star? However, before he had a chance to continue, I had to remind him that the biggest secret in Freemasonry is that there are no secrets at all…


Invited Uncle Hedley over for some crab bisque (no salt, but I goofed by adding a little sherry), parmesan sour dough, and for dessert those mini-ginger thingies that he likes.Cullen showed up with a twelve-pack of whatever low grade beer was on sale, and parked himself on the couch to watch his beloved Ravens (They won!)

When he was finished with lunch my nutty uncle brought up the subject of Benjamin Banneker again. After touting his many achievements with 18th century astronomy and advanced mathematics, he suggested some mystical notion that the knowledge he possessed was transmitted via his DNA. Sounds quite feasible – oops with the sherry! He then told me that only one of Banneker’s journals survived a fire in his house believed to have been started by Maryland pro-slavery arsonists on the day of his funeral in 1806. But Hedley thinks otherwise – that the flames had something to do with the contents in his journals. An important thing that I needed to understand in all of this - was that one of Banneker’s ancestors was a member of the African Dogon tribe and, in fact, was of royal heritage (being the eldest son of the king who was captured and sold to slave traders). So, it was Banneker’s grandfather (or mother?) – teaching him the Dogon’s hidden traditions and complex cosmology – that originally sparked his interest in astronomy.

According to Uncle Hedley, the Dogon know things that they “ought not to know”, and that these things include astronomical peculiarities.In his own words: “So here they are a primitive people living an isolated existence on sandstone cliffs as part of the Bandiagara escarpment just south of Timbuktu in the present Republic of Mali, West Africa when in the 1940s one of the tribal elders – a blind priest named Ogotemmeli - divulges to a couple of reputable French anthropologists the tribe’s innermost secret oral traditions.

Part of this concerns detailed knowledge of the binary Sirius star system, including the existence of a dark companion star (Sirius B), which is totally invisible to the naked eye, and which they give more significance to than Sirius A, the brightest star in the night sky. Not only do they know of Sirius B’s existence, they also know that its an exotic white dwarf star composed of super dense material, and that its unusual elliptical orbit takes 49.9 years to complete around Sirius A. Therefore, the question – nay mystery – becomes: How is it that a damn near stone-age sub-Saharan tribe could have known about the astrophysics of the Sirius configuration centuries before these things were first discovered in the West by astronomers using advanced optics?”The answer, according to Hedley – based on the research of others – is that the Dogon high priests preserve an esoteric tradition that is thousands of years old, making them the living repositories of ancient Egyptian astronomical lore.Seatbelts and hardhats - it gets even wilder.

The inexplicable knowledge of the celestial mechanics of the Sirius system – stellar remnant and all – that are illustrated in Dogon sand diagrams originally came from information provided by a highly-advanced race of aquatic extraterrestrials called the Nummo, who inhabit a planet near the Dog Star, Sirius, and who bequeathed these civilizing instructions to those who they came into contact with on earth some 5000 years ago. (Definitely not the type of fish that Cullen hopes to catch in his muddy estuaries, although I might have once seen one of these monstrosities displayed in a local crab shack!) And if these far-fetched claims weren’t enough, Hedley then suggested – again, based on the work of other researchers of the mystery – that the Nummo might not have made the interstellar voyage back home, but are currently in suspended animation on a colossal ark-like space station parked in a retrograde orbit around the planet Saturn. This artificial body is mistakenly thought by our astronomers to be the Saturnian moon, Phoebe.

Are you serious?

Now I’m not sure if he added this last bit because of my interest in a career with NASA (or some other frontrunner private firm involved with deep-space exploration), but the cock-eyed story did capture the attention of my psychologically sound boyfriend, who thought it was cool enough to leave ‘Purple Reign’ for a minute. Something that is TRULY amazing!


“So fly with talons spread wide, Go in and strike with Raven’s pride.”I’ll probably have this stuck in my head forever, along with the god-awful smell of Cullen’s beer cooler – the same one that he uses for crabbing, with skinless chicken necks for bait.Disgusting!While tailgating, Cullen told a couple of his buddies (?) about my uncle’s preposterous story concerning Banneker, the Dogon and the Nummo – humankind’s repulsive teachers from Sirius.Seems that Cullen bought Hedley’s paleobabble hook, line and proverbial sinker. He told them that being a “Freemason dude” with secret handshakes and passwords that Hedley probably knew lots of “heavy shit.”

He even brought up the shape-shifting reptilian elite who secretly control the world’s finances, suggesting that maybe they were these amphibious Nummo creatures (though he forgot to mention Masonic symbols on the dollar bill!)And then there was this thing about how the Apollo astronauts had planted a Masonic flag with its double-headed eagle emblem on the moon.Heady stuff for a guy from John Deere U.Must have got this from a recent documentary on Net-Flix.

So he could sleep peacefully at night, I told Cullen that Uncle Hedley and his brethren were just a bunch of old farts involved in charity projects for the community. A convivial society who escaped their nagging wives by meeting at a tavern a couple nights a week.Raffle tickets at fish-fry fundraisers and horrible spaghetti dinners with too much cheap Mogen David – that’s the stuff Freemasons don’t want you to know!

Before going down one of Hedley’s rabbit holes, I told Cullen to consider that even if the Dogon knew about some star that is invisible to the unaided eye, might not they have fashioned lenses to be used as a primitive telescope of sorts?Or how about possible contamination from western missionaries?In fact, how do we know that the French anthropologists didn’t fabricate the whole thing for academic recognition?The answer is – we don’t.


Conducted more research on the Dogon-Sirius connection. Found it mentioned in pulp magazine published in 1948 (This had the ring of a third rate science fiction, although the magazine’s editor INSISTED that it was true.) Story concerned a Native American ceremony in which the “pale-son” ingests a bitter concoction containing a substance with psychoactive properties, only to return from his ‘trip’ with an incredible story involving Sirius and its dwarf companion. What he experienced was an alien oceanic world whose inhabitants had fishlike attributes. String of platitudes! Then there was an obscure book called “Star Guests: Design for Mortality” (published in 1950) that contained channeled messages involving Sirian migration to the earth in the very distant past (these non-human visitors came from a planet near Sirius B - whose 49 year orbital period is also mentioned). Neither one very convincing, but nevertheless interesting. Even more so what I discovered next.In 1752, the French philosopher, Voltaire, penned a short story entitled “MICROMEGAS” (Interesting title!) that spoke of a giant from Sirius and his dwarf companion who travel to earth, leaving behind a book of scientific wonders and universal truths which, when opened, contained only blank pages.

When I mentioned the idea of lenses possibly used as a primitive telescope, Uncle Hedley laughed. Replied: “You mean that – after detecting a slight wobble in the proper motion of Sirius A from their crude dwellings on sandstone cliffs, the tribal elders determined that this irregularity was due to the gravitational influence of an unseen dark neighbor?A companion star composed of a very dense material?Being lucky guessers makes more sense!”


Just returned from a charity potluck dinner with Uncle Hedley’s cronies. Brought a few dozen “outrageous” brownies, donated some canned goods, and gave money to purchase a brick in support of a planned building renovation.Hedley’s face appeared more jaundiced – symptoms of his cirrhosis becoming more evident.When I asked him about any fluid buildup, he quickly changed the subject, enquiring about my LASIK decision, and possible internship at NASA’s Dryden Flight Research Center.He also asked about my “no-account” boyfriend in his mossy-oak camos and crusty pickup truck.

When I told him that his comment the other night about Cullen’s dirty fingernails seemed to have really bothered him – saying that he was silent for most of the ride home - for some odd reason, Hedley appeared quite interested with this reaction.Why?

I also learned a new word from my uncle as he stuck his fork in a rather sad excuse for a hush puppy.The word is “ghos-ti”, and its meaning as to do with “someone with whom one has a reciprocal obligation of hospitality.”“We give gifts to the gods and they give gifts to us”, he added.The word is related to the Greek “xeno”, indicating something “strange”, “alien” or “different.”Both words are also related to “host” and “guest”, in the sense of “I give that you might give.”When I jokingly asked him if this had something to do with the marshy Nummo and their covenant with earthlings, he gave me a dismissive look, almost as if this whole (flimsy) Sirius business was but a non sequitur, or red herring?

Maybe it was just too much Belgian ale, but tonight – for the first time – my uncle somehow seemed different from the rest of his brethren with their joyful toasts and good fellowship.Almost as if he belonged to some inner circle that they didn’t know anything about.What was it that Cullen said about the shape-shifting reptilian elite!When I pushed – demanding to know exactly what it was that he was trying to communicate to me (what it was that I needed to know from HIM?), he responded rather cryptically with, “My dear Verity, all that you need from me is buried underneath.”As to what he meant by this – I still haven’t a ghost of a notion.


Friend of mine saw Cullen today at some microbrewery in Gaithersbury.My Pit-beef sandwich and empowering pickup truck boyfriend at a trendy microbrewery! Maybe there’s hope for him after all.Which reminds me, when Uncle Hedley asked him a specific question about his latest crabbing job – the difference between recreational verses commercial auto dippers? – Cullen told him that he (Hedley) must be confused because the only crabbing he did was in the men’s room of bars when pissing in every open urinal by quickly moving with the sideways motion of a crab.I didn’t know Cullen was that clever, though I’m still not sure why he responded to a simple, legitimate question so defensively?

This morning Hedley presented me with a microfilm copy (from the Maryland Historical Society) of six mathematical puzzles written in rhymes in the one surviving journal (1792) of Benjamin Banneker.I vaguely recall having to solve one of these number puzzles in a high-school algebra class, but Hedley said that the solution to one of them required more than my advanced college degrees.“Sounds like a challenge”, I told the old repairer of watches, to which he spoke of Banneker’s self-taught (wink) command of the techniques of false position and double position that he used for solving problems that are difficult to translate into equations.These same methods could be found in the “Rhind Mathematical Papyrus” discovered in Egypt in 1858 (excavations in Thebes), but which the scribe copied from a much older scroll that dated back at least to the time of the architect and physician Imhotep in 2650 B.C.According to the scribe, the treatise reveals the knowledge of all secrets.Hedley then offered me a rather ambiguous clue:“Though it provides the exact solution, the answer is NOT the solution…”

“Is there a prize”, I asked?“Yes, Caspian caviar”, he replied (funny because it sounded like he said, “cadaver caviar.”)

With some Starbucks and microwaved Otterbein’s, I set out to prove my uncle wrong, first considering “The Puzzle of the Hound and the Hare” because of its obvious possible connection with the Dog Star, Sirius, (and its dark partner) in the verse, “But two of the Dogs leaps did agree…”

Hours later I can’t figure the doggone thing out because of Hedley’s hint that Banneker’s likely (implied) answer (864?) wasn’t the true correct solution. Ouch! Looks like I might be pulling out my hare (hair)… Perhaps I should concentrate on one of the other puzzles – such as “A Gentleman sent his Servant”, or just go to bed. What have these “false assumptions” of a math wizard got to do with my space plans, anyway?Someone’s got to wake up these high-tech fish from the effin Sirian comity…


Somehow change the problem to an equation?


Just received the news that Uncle Hedley died today.Too many pulls of the tap at those horrible “Feast for Dreams” charity buffets. Will see that he is buried in that cemetery near Ellicott City as he wished.(Wonder if anyone has killed the dandelions?)His lawyer called and wants to see me.


Met with Uncle Hedley’s lawyer – a Mr. Arleigh Winfield. After reading the Last Will and Testament, I was somewhat shocked (is that the right word?) to learn that my uncle had willed me his dead body. What?!The morbid old ass!Wait until Cullen hears about this!But why his dead body? So that I could donate his mortal remains to science?Don’t you have to pre-register for that?Does that explain this desire to “give back” that he was always bumping his gums about? A priceless gift to be sliced and diced by medical students?Okay, but just one problem.He’s already been buried.Am I supposed to exhume the body? Before leaving, the lawyer made a strange comment about it being such a wonderful coincidence that my uncle died on January 17, the Egyptian Feast Day of Wagy. Probably just more Freemasonic mumbo-jumbo, but he repeated this several times.


Discovered the principle of proportionality in a mathematical puzzle.The arithmetic of Puzzle # 6 is the equivalent to solving the problem.


Says Cooper to Vintner, “I’m the first of my trade,

There’s no kind of vessel but what I have made,

And of any shape, sir, just what you WILL.”

(Note: Vessel = human.)

So that’s what all this UPLIFTING of Banneker was about.Apparently he re-discovered in the starry script certain universal principles involving harmony and proportion. This involves secret physiological knowledge no doubt jealously guarded by a privileged few.A map of human physical and spiritual anatomy that marks the exact location of something – a SOLUTION! (Play on words.)Based on certain calculations involving the DOUBLE FALSE POSITION, the proportion is no longer a mystery to me.Now, where’s my prize?

“Now, my worthy friend, find out if you can,

The vessel’s dimensions and comfort the man!”

Caught Cullen reading my diary. The little sneak said that he was looking for Masonic secrets that my uncle knew about.Yeah, right!


Beatrice called about someone disturbing Uncle Hedley’s grave, as well as some mischief involving the inscription on its marker.Cullen still not answering his phone, so I went to check it out by myself.Upon arrival I noticed several things right away.First, there are now two grave sites for Hedley – both with similar inscriptions, although different dates of death (not surprising in this not so final resting place where death is paradise to those still living!)There are also some spelling errors that were made intentionally (“HEAR lies…”) as a coded message to others in the know – you could call them “cannibals of the mind” - with that written on the second marker made by whom ever dug up my uncle’s corpse, took something of great value and then re-buried him close by the original grave.As I now understand it - this message is meant to inform someone that the deceased entombed here no longer contains its great treasure.That someone is ME.Who ever is responsible for the desecration cheated me of my prize – the “cadaver caviar”, which I heard correctly when Hedley first mentioned it…


1)The word “WILL” is all in caps, indicating Hedley’s Last Will and Testament.

2)In the word “eyes”, the letter “s” is missing, giving it an esoteric context that pertains to “The Golden Tear of the Eye of Horus”.

3)The word “no” has been omitted, indicating that there is still some experience of ‘death’ – what Hedley called “The Grand Dreaming” – left in the corpse.

4)On the second grave marker, the word “death” has been changed to “left” (“there shall be no more left”), meaning that the wealthy deposit or ‘solution’ – that which facilitates “The Grand Dreaming of a Treasured Eye” - has been taken (depleted) from the deceased.

Hear lies, in a horizontal position,

The outside case of


1939 - 2011

He WILL wipe every

tear from their eye, and

there shall be ____ more

death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there

be any more…

Revelation 21:4

He WILL wipe every tear from their eye,

and there shall be no more left,

neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there 

be anymore...


The person who I knew for all this time as “Cullen” has committed suicide.Evidently his real name was Belton, and though he pretended to be a bumblefuck redneck with a low maintenance life-style, he was very interested in this occult hyper-chemistry of Uncle Hedley’s (which he spelled “Khem-istry”, as the practice supposedly originated in ancient Egypt).The “Crabbing Barn” supplies and Raven’s face painting tents were all a sham.Same with the tin toy rocketship and that stupid quilted satin wristlet. (That special halftime?)Though I couldn’t believe it at first, Hedley must have been on to him when he mentioned his having dirty fingernails (a password for one who digs up corpses in order to steal a glimpse of the afterlife – this “grand dreaming” being a trick of human neuro-chemistry), and which is why “Cullen” was so unsettled by the comment.Looking back now, the signs were certainly there.

In his suicide note to me, Belton did offer an apology for taking what was rightfully mine – what he referred to as “The Residuum of Paradise” and “Dream of the Dreamless.”Unfortunately for him, he did not know the correct proportion (DOUBLE FALSE POSITION) and the ‘solution’ that he ingested contained far more of a preview of hell than of heaven.Instead of the promised caviar, he was left with the taste of a contaminated bottom feeder – fitting for the mask he donned.Even so, I can hardly imagine the torment that he suffered as a result of this, and I’m still not sure if he took his own life because of this or if he finally realized - like a certain puzzle solved by Banneker – what he hoped to acquire could have been done far more simply?

As the beneficiary of the initiation by Uncle Hedley to this perceived higher dimension of consciousness, I am still attempting to find a fitting analogy with the Dogon cosmological model, other than the realization that the Nummos’ (alien) watery medium is our cerebral spinal fluid.And, of course, a stellar remnant that is obscured by an object that is far more radiant (The relative darkness of Sirius B to the brightness of Sirius A.)

Would have brought flowers (and not a shovel) to the cemetery where Belton is laid to rest, but the body, I’m told, was cremated – which makes me wonder: DOES the Phoenix rise from his ashes?