Music.

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Some of it, musically, is... well... icky.  Girl stuff, really.  Girl cooties never quite go away, the notion of them.  Yeah, sure, I've certainly gotten over the third grade notion of it, just not all of it.  What they like to eat, their invasion of personal space, and... some other things.  Still, sometimes it takes a woman to say some things in a certain way.  Men don't have the tongue for it.  Some men have tongue, some men have tears, none quite have that heart.  Trust me.  Well...  Some of the music may be more, or less, entertaining.  Depending on if some cat *cough* likes umbrellas in his drink.  All I'm sayin'.  *laughs*  Some of it is better.  None of it is quite the stuff that makes my mojo rock.  Fair warning.

Irritating music.  But it, sort of, hits the point.  Only, the truth is?  In time I may well be what I see now.  Not sure I approve of it, but... God's will, mind you.  And, yes, that is enough.  A wreck, perhaps I just dream, fantasize.  Or perhaps I just see and... relate.  Of course, it might be right on the money.  Though the time scale is... off.  Well, and not exactly 120... more like 600 pounds.  *grin*  Still, the vid offers some... cutish notions, bends, and humor, among the truths.  God does have... a sense of humor, even if it... even His jokes, have reasons.  Oh... the Guy cracks me up in a beautiful way.  How do you hide a cosmic vorporal sword from those who would use it, including itself?  You make it appear broken, of a lessor origin, change it's seeming design to be less than... interesting to the sort who would be interested, even make it seem to dangerous, or make it too dangerous for malpractitioners.  Shut up.  *grins*  Never mind.

There was a time when I saw this.  I did not understand, not when I first realized it, or for a very long time.  Seems like a mere decade or two... or three, maybe more.  It has been more.  Much more.  I suppose it comes down to who deserves and who claims the glory.  Well, and whether their is glory to be had.  Some things don't count.  Only one deserves any glory.  The rest either share grace from that or falsely claim what isn't theirs.  Ah, but it was an interesting life.  Not without it's perks, now, then, or in the future.  But when gold has been seen, held, touched... fools gold has no appeal.

Oh, but there will be blood.  Blood, and blood, and blood, and then the word from the Word that makes more blood flow then has ever flowed before in all of history.  So, you see, the old practice of bleeding the patient... is true.  Just... not in the way the quacks thought.  Of course, of course.

Pain I have known.  And for a reason, if one aspect of what I see is true.  Or perhaps there is no other way.  The sword must be found in it's original form, ore, and tore from it's mother.  It must be heated, pounded, purified, strengthened with foreign things, pounded more, heat treated and not once, at least twice, quench tested after at least one of those.  Then it has to be fully tested in practice and on the field.  Broken?  Some, a literal sword.  Not so the swords of God.  At some point, once the fever breaks, however, choices.  It will seem to eat one alive, but it can't.  Only doubt can do that.  My doubt is banished, along with impurities and weakness... of the things that are important.  Can't kill what's eating you when it... is you, though.  I know.  I do.  God's will.  Most can't survive it.  Actually none can.  Survival, though, is more a rainbow, sliding curve, sort of thing.  Oh... It is..  I'm just at the far end of the bell curve.  *burp*

My story?  I can't say.  Only that I see these things.  I seek out more information, other versions of the stories told by various among those who consider.  Even the blind can see, if they may not understand.  Understanding, however, is not my task, only a want.  Obeying God is... all that is necessary.  A loving, but just, God.  Doing the law and spirit of His will, being open to it.  But, yes, that is why I have spent so much time on shows.  Looking, seeking, hearing, considering.  I didn't realize I could still do a 130 plus hour week.  I can, with the correct inducements, and trimming all other fat.  Almost done.


Oh?  Don't buy it?  Next time you question me, write a... tale... then find the music that fits, all in under ten minutes.  Fate?  "Sight"?  Just because?  Or... a bit more.  Give it a go, lad.  Not my gig, just my reality.

Later.