.
.
It has been an interesting read. The notions near the end have been heard before, contemplated on my own, at least so far. Things like, when nearing a black hole, or such phenomena, time and proximity close in... or that for every x there is an x' or x-not, and probably more as in points on the positive and negative x,y, and z axis, only perhaps with time and possibly some other... dimensions, spaces, or elements. Yeah, you... might not think about such things. Fair enough. But I really do, and have for a great deal of time. No, not scientifically. If for no other reason than science no more studies these things than it studies God. Scientists may, or may not, believe in these things. But, depending on which way the winds are blowing at any particular time, to enter the hallowed union halls of science, only those who believe whatever the prevailing winds prescribe may take up the mantel of being a knower. Once in, to a very small degree, they may agree that they know little, far less than they preach, and what they preach is more likely wrong than right, but that... is another set of matters. No, but I have contemplated these things. I am, often, agnostic about any particular notion. At times I may sway one way or another, and there are some I fancy more than others. Evidence and notion, as well as emotion, swaying my fancy.
Also, however, in the books within the book, certainly as I near the end, some notions of what I have discussed here. About myself, about God, about the horrors of darkness, even nephilim are noticed and discussed lightly. Hmm, there was that one that appeared in the last book, but from afar to the character, mostly. There are things in this last of the books that certainly... seem familiar. Amazing to see writers who have seen what I have seen, if only, possibly, from the point of fiction. I wonder how they would feel to see some of these things in their dreams, as truths? Stories. Just stories. Or so some require so as not to frighten the children. How often does a mother wish to hear no more, for the children's sake, when the children aren't at risk? Ah, yes. It depends upon the audience. I make none visit. And yet they visit and hate. Interesting. Wait until they cannot hide behind the ether of electrons, and must face their fears, fears they have ignored and attempted to quiet through quieting those who speak them, those with whom they disagree because they cannot handle the truth. That will be the first of their hells. The rest will depend upon what they did to hide that truth... what evils... what corruptions... to themselves and to others. Hell hath no fury as... well... hell. A scorned woman is but a mere kitten. I should know, on both accounts.
Loverly. Still, it does bow a great deal to science fantasy to which, quite often, I no longer fancy. I have doubts about black holes. I am positive their notion of them is as their notion of unclean spirits that at one time they demanded be bled. If they would discard their hubris and entertain the mantel of the studious, the curious, and blind and humble, I could abide them. And entertain their notions with a some belief, or minor trust in their efforts. Time will fix this. The end is not nigh, not of man. But the end of the fiction of the wealth we have known is coming to a very quick and sharp close. Everyone is trying to give away what ceases, but never really in the first place, exists in order to buck for power while others are grabbing at every leaf as if it was gold or gold itself as if that would save them. Some, perhaps many, of us, are merely hunkering down and in for what is promised to be a long bumpy road, the end of which we most likely will not see, nor will our children or grandchildren... or theirs. We have, collective, bought real things with unreal monies, burning through real resources for nothing of substance. How valuable is your smartphone? The day you bought it? The day after? A year later? Three years later? I tell it is as valuable today as the day you bought it. Which should tell you more about money, and men, than cellphones.
Never mind. I'll go back to reading and let you wet your skivvies in fury or fear, or laugh with or at me. Makes no difference to me. Not one iota. You will learn these truths, and in a way there is no means of escaping. Which will force you to grow up. After going to your knees if you do not know this place. Unless you die first. That has already been covered. Best to learn, here and now. Don't waste the opportunity. Suffering is your, perhaps, only hope. As it was mine. Later.
Cheer up! I've only got a couple of decades, or four, unless one of you... breaks the seal. Double yum!
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Questions of sanity.
.
.
I have, of course, easily, had the status of my mind questioned. Fairly, of course. Initially I spent much time discovering the truth of falseness of the question and my proposal regarding it. Initially I took the doubt seriously. As time has passed, I realized some things.
Since my feet landed on this rock I have not encountered sanity. I realize not a man, woman, or child alive is capable of sanity. In our present limitations of flesh, further in a fallen world, we simply cannot contain enough of yesterday, today, and tomorrow, while dealing with our various hungers thirsts and fears, to ever attain sanity. More, I realized the people most in doubt of my sanity were some of the people who had completely surrendered their already meager grasp of the notion in order to be in a position to doubt the sanity of others. Doctors have sold their soul for the good life. Whatever they are told, whatever is suggested to them, they have learned to accept. Those who can't are washed out, or understand and leave. Only those simple and docile enough to be manipulated, transformed into machines of untruth, will make it through the processes. Most of them aren't even bright enough to actually know it. Tools, dull ones, for a machine that is meant not to help, but to conquer, men. Useless, and worse.
As to my sanity? That does have to be questioned, for my own purposes. And there are variations of it, much as their are shades and hues. More light, or less. A certain frequency reflected, or several. Sanity is like that. How do you gauge sanity? A first test is to examine if the difference between the simple real, and the perceived real, track. How close do those perceptions get. They won't, for any, stay in perfect alignment. Nor, most likely, will they ever be on an exact same trajectory, save perhaps scant moments of intersection by happenstance. No, you really do not understand what is happening all about you most of the time. Oh, well, you can get the big things. Sure, the sun is up. But is is partly cloudy? Is the sun shining every moment? Are you aware, sure, enough, to guarantee that? Why the surprise when you step out and the sun is behind a cloud? But the little details... does so-and-whositz actually like you? Or merely put up with you? Or stick with you because you are there and no one else is? Is your thinking right, on a topic? Or are you merely believing it because you can't handle the truth. Now, start digging on every topic you consider you know, not just the ones where you know you are unsure. I have done this.
So, for me, I am satisfied that my understanding of reality, on the more simple plain of things, is rather accurate. Blue is indeed blue, no colorblindness. When I hear as sound, I am positive something external, or something I am doing, is causing vibrations in the air to which my ears... even skin and bones if serious enough, can sense. When someone, however, says they like me... while I take that at their word, time only tells the truth. Even more deeply, even if someone does care, their version or understanding of care, or hatred, may or may not be expressed as it might be expected. So, while I am sure of the rock solid earth, my eyes in very simple ways, and ears too, I am not certain about much more. Further, I can't be. The shades and hues are what they are, I can only, on very specific things, differentiate in small ways, carefully. Which, to me, makes me imminently sane, within huge limits of the capacity. However, I also believe that brings me closer to sanity than those many who have never questioned it. Not sure that it was worth the serious testing, but when your health is, even falsely, tied to such a question... and you can do little else... you will spend the time to find out. And so I did.
Just... thinking... out loud as is often the case. Now, scoot, you crazy wombat! *chuckles*
.
I have, of course, easily, had the status of my mind questioned. Fairly, of course. Initially I spent much time discovering the truth of falseness of the question and my proposal regarding it. Initially I took the doubt seriously. As time has passed, I realized some things.
Since my feet landed on this rock I have not encountered sanity. I realize not a man, woman, or child alive is capable of sanity. In our present limitations of flesh, further in a fallen world, we simply cannot contain enough of yesterday, today, and tomorrow, while dealing with our various hungers thirsts and fears, to ever attain sanity. More, I realized the people most in doubt of my sanity were some of the people who had completely surrendered their already meager grasp of the notion in order to be in a position to doubt the sanity of others. Doctors have sold their soul for the good life. Whatever they are told, whatever is suggested to them, they have learned to accept. Those who can't are washed out, or understand and leave. Only those simple and docile enough to be manipulated, transformed into machines of untruth, will make it through the processes. Most of them aren't even bright enough to actually know it. Tools, dull ones, for a machine that is meant not to help, but to conquer, men. Useless, and worse.
As to my sanity? That does have to be questioned, for my own purposes. And there are variations of it, much as their are shades and hues. More light, or less. A certain frequency reflected, or several. Sanity is like that. How do you gauge sanity? A first test is to examine if the difference between the simple real, and the perceived real, track. How close do those perceptions get. They won't, for any, stay in perfect alignment. Nor, most likely, will they ever be on an exact same trajectory, save perhaps scant moments of intersection by happenstance. No, you really do not understand what is happening all about you most of the time. Oh, well, you can get the big things. Sure, the sun is up. But is is partly cloudy? Is the sun shining every moment? Are you aware, sure, enough, to guarantee that? Why the surprise when you step out and the sun is behind a cloud? But the little details... does so-and-whositz actually like you? Or merely put up with you? Or stick with you because you are there and no one else is? Is your thinking right, on a topic? Or are you merely believing it because you can't handle the truth. Now, start digging on every topic you consider you know, not just the ones where you know you are unsure. I have done this.
So, for me, I am satisfied that my understanding of reality, on the more simple plain of things, is rather accurate. Blue is indeed blue, no colorblindness. When I hear as sound, I am positive something external, or something I am doing, is causing vibrations in the air to which my ears... even skin and bones if serious enough, can sense. When someone, however, says they like me... while I take that at their word, time only tells the truth. Even more deeply, even if someone does care, their version or understanding of care, or hatred, may or may not be expressed as it might be expected. So, while I am sure of the rock solid earth, my eyes in very simple ways, and ears too, I am not certain about much more. Further, I can't be. The shades and hues are what they are, I can only, on very specific things, differentiate in small ways, carefully. Which, to me, makes me imminently sane, within huge limits of the capacity. However, I also believe that brings me closer to sanity than those many who have never questioned it. Not sure that it was worth the serious testing, but when your health is, even falsely, tied to such a question... and you can do little else... you will spend the time to find out. And so I did.
Just... thinking... out loud as is often the case. Now, scoot, you crazy wombat! *chuckles*
Yeah, I'm up.
.
.
Not good or bad, or at least yet. Son, but that was sleep. On top of it, I dreamed heavily. Not a dream storm like the other night. Not in my memory. Three dreams. The first was poignant. I tried to hold onto it it. It was the first, and seemed to happen early in sleep. Then a dream that is one of the more potent and harsh dreams I have had regarding life and my place in it. The first time I had it, I was able, through it, to look at every fraudulent action and thought, every falsehood, every knowing and suspected poor choice. On and on and on and on and on. From when I was a child to a teen to an adult, in sickness and health, in grace and not. It wasn't that I was seeing the bad choices. The dream was a repeated collection of pictures, but I can't remember what they were. Like a slide show with potent images of various sorts. Through seeing this long but oft repeated set of images, I began to flash through my wrongs. In the dream anyway, the images did not stop until I had covered every single sin, every single bad thought I would have or did act upon. Nothing was spared until... I knelt absolutely to the fact that I was... am... so terribly far from perfect. The first time I had that dream I cried, off and on, for a week, two? Probably more. This time, when I saw the images, I remembered my failings, but realized this time I was seeing it so as to know I was not alone in that. I saw you, some of your ways and failings. Not everyone of you, but a sampling of many of your types and particular failings, man and woman. Not to judge, just to know. I knew, before, but not like this. I now know as if I had made your poor choice, committed your sin. Different than just... idealizing. I had a final dream, but that middle dream overshadowed all, and is still with me. I may not cry for the next two weeks, but I will lament for... a long while. And pray. With my tears, in my turn, I prayed more than even I cried. Lovely. Really. For I saw that it was not the end. Not for you, or me, if chosen otherwise. Just... hard. Choose wisely. Oh, but after being hit by that first, I'll tell you, I'll be on my knees as often before, praying. Not just for you. That sort of thing hits home. I'll be praying for us.
Neither good or bad this morning. Just awake and somewhere between frisky and a bit drained. Go figure that one out. It's a good foppish day, whatever that means. It seems to fit, my mind saw the word foppish and latched on, so I type it out as if I knew what I was doing. The rest from sleep, despite the turmoil in dreams, was quite good. Getting out yesterday, just that bit, was fine. I still have great troubles regarding the licensing thing. If they take away my license I will lose my home. And I know it is not deserved. These people are petty tyrants and mean to do me harm. They believe the disabled should be medicated into oblivion, perhaps even murdered, and given no voice in this world. Actually, they are just using disability as a means of attempting to quash anti-progressive thought and word. I know this. Evil has run amok in our government, in everything it touches, and has become unbound, though perhaps desperate as well. It sees the resistance growing, maybe becoming insurmountable, and so will lash out with extra fervor while it still holds sways. Watch yourselves, boys and girls, It sees all and is coming for you, to.
Today? Not sure. I would like to hit the kitchen, but... I don't know. The weather has turned chill, and I've lost my weather-resistance from the warm spell. I am weakened by the constant cool. Until I find my footing, and acclimatize to the winter again, I'm probably just not going to be doing a whole lot. No, I don't adapt quickly. One of the faults of having a weakened body. Then again, I have been let out of the "class of life" to tend this as I need to. If I won't surrender to a nursing home, over-medication, and the theft of my disability income, I do have to surrender to taking it easy when I must. And, currently, I must. So... I do. I have had worse. Before they got the diagnosis correct, they tried to use whip and carrot to get me to jump through hoops. I still suspect they knew from the start. They just thought I would die quickly, so didn't really give a shit. That's what happens when you tie medicine to bureaucracy to bean counters. It's more than carelessness, it's... shameless prejudice based purely on coin. I know why they hate me still drawing air. It costs a pretty penny. A heart transplant would give their trainees something to practice with, and give me an inception date they can count on. Open ended is too much, free on top of it is too much. Yes, I know.
Hmm... coffee, some reading, and a bit of work if I can get to it. Later.
.
Not good or bad, or at least yet. Son, but that was sleep. On top of it, I dreamed heavily. Not a dream storm like the other night. Not in my memory. Three dreams. The first was poignant. I tried to hold onto it it. It was the first, and seemed to happen early in sleep. Then a dream that is one of the more potent and harsh dreams I have had regarding life and my place in it. The first time I had it, I was able, through it, to look at every fraudulent action and thought, every falsehood, every knowing and suspected poor choice. On and on and on and on and on. From when I was a child to a teen to an adult, in sickness and health, in grace and not. It wasn't that I was seeing the bad choices. The dream was a repeated collection of pictures, but I can't remember what they were. Like a slide show with potent images of various sorts. Through seeing this long but oft repeated set of images, I began to flash through my wrongs. In the dream anyway, the images did not stop until I had covered every single sin, every single bad thought I would have or did act upon. Nothing was spared until... I knelt absolutely to the fact that I was... am... so terribly far from perfect. The first time I had that dream I cried, off and on, for a week, two? Probably more. This time, when I saw the images, I remembered my failings, but realized this time I was seeing it so as to know I was not alone in that. I saw you, some of your ways and failings. Not everyone of you, but a sampling of many of your types and particular failings, man and woman. Not to judge, just to know. I knew, before, but not like this. I now know as if I had made your poor choice, committed your sin. Different than just... idealizing. I had a final dream, but that middle dream overshadowed all, and is still with me. I may not cry for the next two weeks, but I will lament for... a long while. And pray. With my tears, in my turn, I prayed more than even I cried. Lovely. Really. For I saw that it was not the end. Not for you, or me, if chosen otherwise. Just... hard. Choose wisely. Oh, but after being hit by that first, I'll tell you, I'll be on my knees as often before, praying. Not just for you. That sort of thing hits home. I'll be praying for us.
Neither good or bad this morning. Just awake and somewhere between frisky and a bit drained. Go figure that one out. It's a good foppish day, whatever that means. It seems to fit, my mind saw the word foppish and latched on, so I type it out as if I knew what I was doing. The rest from sleep, despite the turmoil in dreams, was quite good. Getting out yesterday, just that bit, was fine. I still have great troubles regarding the licensing thing. If they take away my license I will lose my home. And I know it is not deserved. These people are petty tyrants and mean to do me harm. They believe the disabled should be medicated into oblivion, perhaps even murdered, and given no voice in this world. Actually, they are just using disability as a means of attempting to quash anti-progressive thought and word. I know this. Evil has run amok in our government, in everything it touches, and has become unbound, though perhaps desperate as well. It sees the resistance growing, maybe becoming insurmountable, and so will lash out with extra fervor while it still holds sways. Watch yourselves, boys and girls, It sees all and is coming for you, to.
Today? Not sure. I would like to hit the kitchen, but... I don't know. The weather has turned chill, and I've lost my weather-resistance from the warm spell. I am weakened by the constant cool. Until I find my footing, and acclimatize to the winter again, I'm probably just not going to be doing a whole lot. No, I don't adapt quickly. One of the faults of having a weakened body. Then again, I have been let out of the "class of life" to tend this as I need to. If I won't surrender to a nursing home, over-medication, and the theft of my disability income, I do have to surrender to taking it easy when I must. And, currently, I must. So... I do. I have had worse. Before they got the diagnosis correct, they tried to use whip and carrot to get me to jump through hoops. I still suspect they knew from the start. They just thought I would die quickly, so didn't really give a shit. That's what happens when you tie medicine to bureaucracy to bean counters. It's more than carelessness, it's... shameless prejudice based purely on coin. I know why they hate me still drawing air. It costs a pretty penny. A heart transplant would give their trainees something to practice with, and give me an inception date they can count on. Open ended is too much, free on top of it is too much. Yes, I know.
Hmm... coffee, some reading, and a bit of work if I can get to it. Later.
Reading.
.
.
Half way through the book of books. More than that actually. But I picked up a small stack of books of books, so I have no worries about running out of reading material. And I have other books I have been meaning to attempt. If I end up sprinting through the material I have, and have increased my reading durability enough, I may hit some tough material. Summa Theologica looms large in my eyes as the prize of my heart's desire. I have read a minor portion of it, excised or somehow made into the form of another book. I have stepped into S.T. before, only to fall as my health waxed and waned. I was so intrigued... I have to keep trying. No, it's not the bible. But it is... beyond poetic or historic. There are some things in there that call. I have tasted of some of the divine in it, and found it to be right. There is learning there, understanding. Serious fat to chew.
The books I am reading currently are nearly poetic. I am rushing through, sometimes too fast in my hunger. It has been some time since I read for simple pleasure. And it has been some times since reading was a pleasure, much of it junk... or worse junk? Then again, from what I see, this is rather mainstream in it's ideology. The author is, or was at the time, afraid to deny atheist scientific "truths" which are not only far from proven but dubious and becoming more so, of it's own accord. Petards, hoisting... by their own hands, with enough rope. And my but they have been given a lot of rope. Still, it is what it is in that regard. Can't expect bravery to question from those who are targeting, in a general way, the very sorts who believe in rubbish... if denying they have even a hint of faith while believing what they know they can't even hope to know. At least it is cute, if childish.
Still, I am having a grand time slamming through the pages as if a life were on the line. Not mine so much. I don't worry for my life, it tends to take care of itself. As do most problems. Enemies find out just... exactly... where the lines where drawn in the ancient ways and who is on which side. Most especially the devious ones. Light not only disinfects, it slays. Not for me, but I come from a very long line. My kin, while disparaging at my choices perhaps, and even hating me... for a number of reasons more now than past but in the past as well... hate those who would go against one of our kind even more. Dangerous folk. If you are just and right, bring your charge. If you are dark and devious, my kin are even more so, though can be bold and brutal. Watch your way when you walk in what was my world. You cannot win there. Just a bit of a friendly warning. I am not longer on their side if they are still, as a clan, quite on mine. *wink*
Interesting tales, more to go. I'll get back to it. A bit of rest this weekend, as I can't seem to do much more. So it goes. It did get chilly again, dropping below freezing as is usual here and now. After such nice weather, it's sort of like fall again. The readjustment is difficult. The cold leeches will, strength. Reading, and maybe wrapping up in another of the blankets. The furnace fails to warm, even at 76. But a blanket seems to do the trick even down at 66. So long as I stay in it. Bleh. At least, to me, they are not scratchy. It is 100% wool. Then again I am no longer, if I ever was, exactly normal. Who can walk on hard frozen ground barefoot, or pluck eggs out of boiling water, or cuddle into wool without a stitch or itch? Why... me. :p Later.
.
Half way through the book of books. More than that actually. But I picked up a small stack of books of books, so I have no worries about running out of reading material. And I have other books I have been meaning to attempt. If I end up sprinting through the material I have, and have increased my reading durability enough, I may hit some tough material. Summa Theologica looms large in my eyes as the prize of my heart's desire. I have read a minor portion of it, excised or somehow made into the form of another book. I have stepped into S.T. before, only to fall as my health waxed and waned. I was so intrigued... I have to keep trying. No, it's not the bible. But it is... beyond poetic or historic. There are some things in there that call. I have tasted of some of the divine in it, and found it to be right. There is learning there, understanding. Serious fat to chew.
The books I am reading currently are nearly poetic. I am rushing through, sometimes too fast in my hunger. It has been some time since I read for simple pleasure. And it has been some times since reading was a pleasure, much of it junk... or worse junk? Then again, from what I see, this is rather mainstream in it's ideology. The author is, or was at the time, afraid to deny atheist scientific "truths" which are not only far from proven but dubious and becoming more so, of it's own accord. Petards, hoisting... by their own hands, with enough rope. And my but they have been given a lot of rope. Still, it is what it is in that regard. Can't expect bravery to question from those who are targeting, in a general way, the very sorts who believe in rubbish... if denying they have even a hint of faith while believing what they know they can't even hope to know. At least it is cute, if childish.
Still, I am having a grand time slamming through the pages as if a life were on the line. Not mine so much. I don't worry for my life, it tends to take care of itself. As do most problems. Enemies find out just... exactly... where the lines where drawn in the ancient ways and who is on which side. Most especially the devious ones. Light not only disinfects, it slays. Not for me, but I come from a very long line. My kin, while disparaging at my choices perhaps, and even hating me... for a number of reasons more now than past but in the past as well... hate those who would go against one of our kind even more. Dangerous folk. If you are just and right, bring your charge. If you are dark and devious, my kin are even more so, though can be bold and brutal. Watch your way when you walk in what was my world. You cannot win there. Just a bit of a friendly warning. I am not longer on their side if they are still, as a clan, quite on mine. *wink*
Interesting tales, more to go. I'll get back to it. A bit of rest this weekend, as I can't seem to do much more. So it goes. It did get chilly again, dropping below freezing as is usual here and now. After such nice weather, it's sort of like fall again. The readjustment is difficult. The cold leeches will, strength. Reading, and maybe wrapping up in another of the blankets. The furnace fails to warm, even at 76. But a blanket seems to do the trick even down at 66. So long as I stay in it. Bleh. At least, to me, they are not scratchy. It is 100% wool. Then again I am no longer, if I ever was, exactly normal. Who can walk on hard frozen ground barefoot, or pluck eggs out of boiling water, or cuddle into wool without a stitch or itch? Why... me. :p Later.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Not too late.
.
.
Always pushing. With deadlines in hand, sometimes I can push hard enough, sometimes not. Today I got to it. My friend wanted me in early enough to go to his bank, then got all picky and suggested that we go when it was open for business. No fun there. Still... A shower and a sprint. I think I got most of my clothes on, and correctly. I think? Well, no one complained, or looked more sideways at me than is usual. Which is a rather weak measure, because they do look pretty sideways, often, when looking at me. Dinner and just a bit of shopping, then a stop to look at some of the new toys my friend bought. I told him I would try to make it in next week. With my schedule doing somersaults, I can't make any fast promises.
On the way home I checked the mail. It looks like the state is trying to strip me of my driver license because of my health. The V.A., once again, screwing with a vet they don't like. They well know I've had this condition for longer than some of them have been alive, have driven across the country many times, and have done many things that people with my condition aren't generally believed to be able to do. This is just trying to stick it to me, again. I'm a bit hot about it, so I set the paperwork aside until I have calmed down a bit. I wish there was a legitimate advocacy board that could spank the V.A. when it tries to fuck with vets. This harassment has been ongoing and continuous. Zero has simply offered more cover, and incentive, to kill, disparage, and attack vets, even more than what was already in play. Neither party actually cares much for vets, we cost money that they would otherwise be able to send to their cronies back home. Just the truth. We aren't supposed to live this long, and if so, not be independent. They don't like the facts so they screw with the rules.
It looks like google backed off from their threats. Not sure if they did, or if they are just going to come at conservatives from a different direction. Don't believe that fairytale of chasing porn. That would be easy, and they could have done that at any time. They aren't going after their bread and butter, if they may chase some of the profits. No, they are coming after those who don't believe in their crony lies, progressive agendas, and nasty ways.
Hmm... Well, dinner was good. Omelets, for me. I will, eventually, get a bigger pan. And with practice, learn to make omelets correctly. Money issues are about to hit and I'm not sure how bad those are quite yet. I'll live, just... It's going to hurt. Going out will probably not be happening too often, though it's not like I eat out even once a week as is. A minor treat, all good.
I did show my friend my new dagger. I think he thought the thing was funny, until he saw it, held it, and it made some sense to him. I won't say he was impressed, but I think he... liked it. Probably thought of it as a waste of cash, but that's him. For him it probably is. Perhaps for me, but... it is my cash, and my heart. It has been on my list since before some of you were born. I just... back in the day there was no internet. Not a common, or easy to find item, not in the back woods. And you could never be sure of quality, while even so having to worry about being completely ripped off even if the quality was there. I came from the time where much merchandise was of the back of the comic book type. Things have changed. Things have improved. But the false economy supporting all of this is about to die hard.
The other thing? Saving money is a fools errand. Not that getting into debt is any better. Actually, that latter is worse. Take your extra money and put it into something that will have value. Leaving it in the bank is losing it. Betting on the stockmarket, before it's collapse, is worse than saving, if not as bad as debt. About right in the middle. Trust me, you don't know what you are doing with paper, and your stock manager, if you go that way, doesn't either. If he does, he will sell you down the road for the big boys who run the game. If not, he will simply lose it. Buy, but more wisely. Perhaps not all of my purchases are the best, but... for some things... they may never be available, at that quality, in my lifetime again. Or yours, your children's, or your grandchildrens. Might be worth more than it seems in less time than you think.
Ah well... On to some music, back to reading, and relaxing a bit. I never had the chance to really wake up. I'll take it now. It was, though, quite good to get out. I suspect my friend appreciated it too. Later.
.
Always pushing. With deadlines in hand, sometimes I can push hard enough, sometimes not. Today I got to it. My friend wanted me in early enough to go to his bank, then got all picky and suggested that we go when it was open for business. No fun there. Still... A shower and a sprint. I think I got most of my clothes on, and correctly. I think? Well, no one complained, or looked more sideways at me than is usual. Which is a rather weak measure, because they do look pretty sideways, often, when looking at me. Dinner and just a bit of shopping, then a stop to look at some of the new toys my friend bought. I told him I would try to make it in next week. With my schedule doing somersaults, I can't make any fast promises.
On the way home I checked the mail. It looks like the state is trying to strip me of my driver license because of my health. The V.A., once again, screwing with a vet they don't like. They well know I've had this condition for longer than some of them have been alive, have driven across the country many times, and have done many things that people with my condition aren't generally believed to be able to do. This is just trying to stick it to me, again. I'm a bit hot about it, so I set the paperwork aside until I have calmed down a bit. I wish there was a legitimate advocacy board that could spank the V.A. when it tries to fuck with vets. This harassment has been ongoing and continuous. Zero has simply offered more cover, and incentive, to kill, disparage, and attack vets, even more than what was already in play. Neither party actually cares much for vets, we cost money that they would otherwise be able to send to their cronies back home. Just the truth. We aren't supposed to live this long, and if so, not be independent. They don't like the facts so they screw with the rules.
It looks like google backed off from their threats. Not sure if they did, or if they are just going to come at conservatives from a different direction. Don't believe that fairytale of chasing porn. That would be easy, and they could have done that at any time. They aren't going after their bread and butter, if they may chase some of the profits. No, they are coming after those who don't believe in their crony lies, progressive agendas, and nasty ways.
Hmm... Well, dinner was good. Omelets, for me. I will, eventually, get a bigger pan. And with practice, learn to make omelets correctly. Money issues are about to hit and I'm not sure how bad those are quite yet. I'll live, just... It's going to hurt. Going out will probably not be happening too often, though it's not like I eat out even once a week as is. A minor treat, all good.
I did show my friend my new dagger. I think he thought the thing was funny, until he saw it, held it, and it made some sense to him. I won't say he was impressed, but I think he... liked it. Probably thought of it as a waste of cash, but that's him. For him it probably is. Perhaps for me, but... it is my cash, and my heart. It has been on my list since before some of you were born. I just... back in the day there was no internet. Not a common, or easy to find item, not in the back woods. And you could never be sure of quality, while even so having to worry about being completely ripped off even if the quality was there. I came from the time where much merchandise was of the back of the comic book type. Things have changed. Things have improved. But the false economy supporting all of this is about to die hard.
The other thing? Saving money is a fools errand. Not that getting into debt is any better. Actually, that latter is worse. Take your extra money and put it into something that will have value. Leaving it in the bank is losing it. Betting on the stockmarket, before it's collapse, is worse than saving, if not as bad as debt. About right in the middle. Trust me, you don't know what you are doing with paper, and your stock manager, if you go that way, doesn't either. If he does, he will sell you down the road for the big boys who run the game. If not, he will simply lose it. Buy, but more wisely. Perhaps not all of my purchases are the best, but... for some things... they may never be available, at that quality, in my lifetime again. Or yours, your children's, or your grandchildrens. Might be worth more than it seems in less time than you think.
Ah well... On to some music, back to reading, and relaxing a bit. I never had the chance to really wake up. I'll take it now. It was, though, quite good to get out. I suspect my friend appreciated it too. Later.
Odd coincedences, and dreams.
.
.
An eruption of dreams. One I had pretty much stored, remembered well. As it neared the time to wake, a storm of dreams struck. So many and so fast, each so deep and intense, that all memory was lost in the whirlwind. Wars, and small home life as a child, myself or you, up, down, and away. I literally lived through a dozen different lives and lifetimes in, probably, at most it seems to me, the last two hours of sleep. I would hit one dream, then dump out of it, immediately into another, like the clicks heard from a girl jumping rope. But the dreams, each themselves, could be intense but span a shorter part of a day, to time expansive in which I live a whole lifetime... or three. I'm not a normal cat. I don't... die when I die, not even always in dreams. I've got slightly (extra) blurry vision and a minor twist of them mind because of it. It would be like trying to study differential equations, while practicing a piece by Mozart, listening to Motorhead, on a treadmill, eating a sandwich, while thinking about my past loves. Let us call it overload and be done with it? Yeah.
I called my friend last night. I told him I would be in. I also let him know I didn't know when. My swing shift is in full rotation. I have no idea when I will sleep, for how long I will sleep, or in what shape I will be when I wake. I just knew that I wanted to get out. And I thought he might want to. His answer, to paraphrase, was... "Do I!?!". So, yeah. He just wanted me to show up in time to get him to his bank. Uhrm, it might happen. But I won't have time to run through my waking subroutines. Oh... 'teh' horror. Give or take. My subroutines are splendid, but silly, things. Probably a good way to give me a heartattack, but it hasn't worked yet. *listening, anyone?* :p
I love my gallows humor. The cosmos seems to like it to, but like me doesn't really give a... ...what I think. Oh, it roars, sometimes... when it doesn't get all stern like a woman who thinks she owns a part of my hide and doesn't think I should be painting a bullseye on it. Doesn't quite always get my humor or lack of... uhrm... hmm... seriousness. *bite me* All good. I love getting that solemn prissy feel from the universe. And women. Yum like bubblegum. Chewy too!
I... knew Spock would be gone. I see it is so. No great personal loss. He seems to have lived a good long life. I hope it was good, I hope it was right, I hope he was ready, and though I didn't know him near as well as I knew Adam, I'll pray for the reposition of his soul. Not a thing I do for all, but since I saw it... I always feel a little guilty when... is foreknowledge causative? Doubtful, but does one ever know this? Or anything for sure? No. I also, as I was finishing the second of the books in the book of short stories, ran into the rare word... stiletto. Used as I suggested about the dagger I purchased. Sometimes things come together to... reinforce... or if I haven't done some things yet, to push. God uses angels, but He also uses other means to communicate. Especially for us whom the angels do not favor. Or even fear. So be it.
Ah, right... a shower... then all the fuss required to be to town. Hmm... legs and ass are suggesting more coffee or they will go on strike. So... I'll finish this, whistle past morning duties, and swing into the saddle as if I knew what I was doing. Good day. Oh, right, since I have to get to it, might as well be just a tadge grumpy, so... Get off my damned porch! Ah... now I feel better. *grin*
.
An eruption of dreams. One I had pretty much stored, remembered well. As it neared the time to wake, a storm of dreams struck. So many and so fast, each so deep and intense, that all memory was lost in the whirlwind. Wars, and small home life as a child, myself or you, up, down, and away. I literally lived through a dozen different lives and lifetimes in, probably, at most it seems to me, the last two hours of sleep. I would hit one dream, then dump out of it, immediately into another, like the clicks heard from a girl jumping rope. But the dreams, each themselves, could be intense but span a shorter part of a day, to time expansive in which I live a whole lifetime... or three. I'm not a normal cat. I don't... die when I die, not even always in dreams. I've got slightly (extra) blurry vision and a minor twist of them mind because of it. It would be like trying to study differential equations, while practicing a piece by Mozart, listening to Motorhead, on a treadmill, eating a sandwich, while thinking about my past loves. Let us call it overload and be done with it? Yeah.
I called my friend last night. I told him I would be in. I also let him know I didn't know when. My swing shift is in full rotation. I have no idea when I will sleep, for how long I will sleep, or in what shape I will be when I wake. I just knew that I wanted to get out. And I thought he might want to. His answer, to paraphrase, was... "Do I!?!". So, yeah. He just wanted me to show up in time to get him to his bank. Uhrm, it might happen. But I won't have time to run through my waking subroutines. Oh... 'teh' horror. Give or take. My subroutines are splendid, but silly, things. Probably a good way to give me a heartattack, but it hasn't worked yet. *listening, anyone?* :p
I love my gallows humor. The cosmos seems to like it to, but like me doesn't really give a... ...what I think. Oh, it roars, sometimes... when it doesn't get all stern like a woman who thinks she owns a part of my hide and doesn't think I should be painting a bullseye on it. Doesn't quite always get my humor or lack of... uhrm... hmm... seriousness. *bite me* All good. I love getting that solemn prissy feel from the universe. And women. Yum like bubblegum. Chewy too!
I... knew Spock would be gone. I see it is so. No great personal loss. He seems to have lived a good long life. I hope it was good, I hope it was right, I hope he was ready, and though I didn't know him near as well as I knew Adam, I'll pray for the reposition of his soul. Not a thing I do for all, but since I saw it... I always feel a little guilty when... is foreknowledge causative? Doubtful, but does one ever know this? Or anything for sure? No. I also, as I was finishing the second of the books in the book of short stories, ran into the rare word... stiletto. Used as I suggested about the dagger I purchased. Sometimes things come together to... reinforce... or if I haven't done some things yet, to push. God uses angels, but He also uses other means to communicate. Especially for us whom the angels do not favor. Or even fear. So be it.
Ah, right... a shower... then all the fuss required to be to town. Hmm... legs and ass are suggesting more coffee or they will go on strike. So... I'll finish this, whistle past morning duties, and swing into the saddle as if I knew what I was doing. Good day. Oh, right, since I have to get to it, might as well be just a tadge grumpy, so... Get off my damned porch! Ah... now I feel better. *grin*
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Another day, or night really.
.
.
Feeling good, all around, more or less. It's just a day, so far. I was, and remain, confused about today. There just isn't anything going. Can't focus. A shower. Beautiful thing that is. Plus it finished washing the crap and most of the smell away from having washed the blankets in the tub, that first time. Nasty stuff, that. And yet... better that than holey bug filled blankets. I suppose. New ones would be a fortune or (maybe and) poorly made. Some tech seems lost to antiquity. With furnaces, warm clothing, work (where heat is provided if usually not considered a benefit... not these days), and the rest, most people do not think of warmth. A forgotten necessity, for the moment.
With a shower to warm my body and bolster the spirits, a bit of coffee in me, I decided... to put more coffee in me. I don't know what I might get to. I will, I believe, read some more, while putting coffee into the tank. I am hoping to make a meal. I have meat thawed, and haven't grilled in a while. Sure, it's back to well below freezing. As I like to say... "And?". I do what I do, when I can, when I see the need or want, it's just the way of it.
Still, I would like to do a bit in the kitchen. Even just sweeping, a few dishes, and maybe cleaning some of the surfaces I have been partially opening up by relocating the small kitchen appliances. I suppose I could sort that whole microwave cart idea out too. Who knows what I will get to. I know what I would like to do... sleep another four or ten hours. My body wants to, my brain knows it isn't going to happen. I can't make myself sleep any more than I can make myself healthy. What is, is, or it isn't. Sleep isn't. It's not too bad though. Like I said, a bit of coffee and more reading.
Reading has been quite good. I've finished the first of the stories in the first book, and am nearing the end of the second story. I read fast enough. I just don't have the stamina of the psyche that reading demands. Something of which some you are aware, others are not, though true for all. Eyes go bleary, or the mind begins to wander too much, and the reading must be set aside. Further, even for this sort of reading, little breaks help the story come together. Much as, when you are listening to someone speak, you blink from time to time. That's not just to moisten your eyes, but also to take in what your ears have heard, and allow your mind to function on that. I may never be a master reader, again, or to the level I was, but I can enjoy as I may. And I am.
I was thinking about that dagger I recently received. Yeah, I ordered that about three weeks ago. Good things take time. Perhaps they even actually made it in that time. Or finished it from parts? Shipping was quite slow, but not a bother if known. And there was at least one stall in the delivery. Some city in Georgia, it seems, received a freeze. Georgians are simply not used to such. Or... there was something else. One never knows from the snippets of data passed on. Oh, about that dagger? Of all the wars fought, that dagger, and other tools like it, have ended even more wars before they ever went further than minor words or deeds. A prince, king, general, rouge, arch bishop, or other, who for good or ill was beginning to set forth plans, ended up meeting such a tool in a final way. The greater friend of their enemy was closer then their true friends and protection, and so the notion slipped from history as they slipped into the ground. More than you will ever know. Who received the lesson was not always who you might think, either. Sometimes it is the principality who must be silenced, sometimes a seeming innocent catalyst. Sometimes that didn't work, either. One never knows, not even those who one would think should. God allowed man free will, and that has wrought terrible confusion on all, save I suspect, God Himself, should He wish to know, when He might so desire to know.
Ah, reading, coffee... a meal... perhaps work. Just hitting midnight and my day is just, potentially, beginning to begin. Bleh. *smile* Later.
.
Feeling good, all around, more or less. It's just a day, so far. I was, and remain, confused about today. There just isn't anything going. Can't focus. A shower. Beautiful thing that is. Plus it finished washing the crap and most of the smell away from having washed the blankets in the tub, that first time. Nasty stuff, that. And yet... better that than holey bug filled blankets. I suppose. New ones would be a fortune or (maybe and) poorly made. Some tech seems lost to antiquity. With furnaces, warm clothing, work (where heat is provided if usually not considered a benefit... not these days), and the rest, most people do not think of warmth. A forgotten necessity, for the moment.
With a shower to warm my body and bolster the spirits, a bit of coffee in me, I decided... to put more coffee in me. I don't know what I might get to. I will, I believe, read some more, while putting coffee into the tank. I am hoping to make a meal. I have meat thawed, and haven't grilled in a while. Sure, it's back to well below freezing. As I like to say... "And?". I do what I do, when I can, when I see the need or want, it's just the way of it.
Still, I would like to do a bit in the kitchen. Even just sweeping, a few dishes, and maybe cleaning some of the surfaces I have been partially opening up by relocating the small kitchen appliances. I suppose I could sort that whole microwave cart idea out too. Who knows what I will get to. I know what I would like to do... sleep another four or ten hours. My body wants to, my brain knows it isn't going to happen. I can't make myself sleep any more than I can make myself healthy. What is, is, or it isn't. Sleep isn't. It's not too bad though. Like I said, a bit of coffee and more reading.
Reading has been quite good. I've finished the first of the stories in the first book, and am nearing the end of the second story. I read fast enough. I just don't have the stamina of the psyche that reading demands. Something of which some you are aware, others are not, though true for all. Eyes go bleary, or the mind begins to wander too much, and the reading must be set aside. Further, even for this sort of reading, little breaks help the story come together. Much as, when you are listening to someone speak, you blink from time to time. That's not just to moisten your eyes, but also to take in what your ears have heard, and allow your mind to function on that. I may never be a master reader, again, or to the level I was, but I can enjoy as I may. And I am.
I was thinking about that dagger I recently received. Yeah, I ordered that about three weeks ago. Good things take time. Perhaps they even actually made it in that time. Or finished it from parts? Shipping was quite slow, but not a bother if known. And there was at least one stall in the delivery. Some city in Georgia, it seems, received a freeze. Georgians are simply not used to such. Or... there was something else. One never knows from the snippets of data passed on. Oh, about that dagger? Of all the wars fought, that dagger, and other tools like it, have ended even more wars before they ever went further than minor words or deeds. A prince, king, general, rouge, arch bishop, or other, who for good or ill was beginning to set forth plans, ended up meeting such a tool in a final way. The greater friend of their enemy was closer then their true friends and protection, and so the notion slipped from history as they slipped into the ground. More than you will ever know. Who received the lesson was not always who you might think, either. Sometimes it is the principality who must be silenced, sometimes a seeming innocent catalyst. Sometimes that didn't work, either. One never knows, not even those who one would think should. God allowed man free will, and that has wrought terrible confusion on all, save I suspect, God Himself, should He wish to know, when He might so desire to know.
Ah, reading, coffee... a meal... perhaps work. Just hitting midnight and my day is just, potentially, beginning to begin. Bleh. *smile* Later.
Nice blanket.
.
.
Two washings seem to have taken care of the smell, or... well enough. The scent has invaded my home, and will be here for a while. I aired out the bathroom last night, which was the worst of it due to the long soaking. If I ever buy another woolen, I will do, pretty much, the same thing... only next time I would open a window to let it vent. I did close the door pretty quickly, when first wetted the area absolutely reeked. Live and learn. But, for warmth, I was amazed. Just because you order something, and the seller says it is one thing, doesn't mean it is. Actually, you can count on it not being what it is said to be, one way or another, more so in these times. The question is, is it good enough.
I ordered something else I have been meaning to get my hands on. I have been looking for this for a very long time. Thinking about it for even longer. I have daggers, dirks, folding knives, and the rest. But something I have known for longer than I have known this life, and... kept some faith with on a personal and *cough* social and political score... kept haunting my dreams. You might or might not know of it. You, most likely, think of a woman's type of shoe when you hear the name... stiletto. Or, perhaps, if you are more keen to... various blades, but are of a modernist bent, you might think of a specific sort of switchblade. Much as you might think of a claymore as an anti-personnel mine.
I remember various sorts of stilettos. Daggers, of various sorts, used to pierce mail. Well, you would call that chain mall. In one time, at least, mail was a mix of metal plates and chain-linked undergarb or supplementary additions to plates. This dagger was devised to penetrate the rings and to find the edges of the plates and pierce through undergarments. And it does so with an efficiency and ease, for a pro, that the hearts of knights could never be at full ease. It is one of the terrors that came to the dreams of knights... after a few... introductions. I can use such a device as you might a can opener. 'Over the plate, through the knot, past the stuffing, into the voice-chamber. No scream to foul the play.' Or... some such comes to my mind. I can't remember it, thus write it, correctly, for the tongue is both ancient and foreign. Neither of us would understand it fully, or probably at all. They used to speak horrible English. Probably French, but ancient French is even worse horrible English! The meaning should be clear. Anyway, that, finally, arrived after days and... a week, two? No worries.
After reviewing my order, over and over, I started to have concern. Had I ordered the wrong thing? Was this merely a dagger, being passed off as something more? I hate being fooled. But that is, more often than not, the way of merchants these days. I thought, mildly, about just canceling the order. Fearful thoughts can do that. But, no. I wanted to see if my various research and belief had been true. It arrived today. And, yes, it is as my heart desired. I would say it is even better than I could have imagined. This thing is wicked. It has the point, but beyond, over some distance, turns into a, nearly, fine (but thick) tri-blade, well fullered and thick enough to not be fragile. This thing is a bit of a redesign from my times-memory. But a very solid redesign. I am well satisfied. Oh, I do know my gear. Some part of my dark ancient heart is happy. Do not think it does not still have a place on any field of battle, small or large, personal or grand. War knows his implements better than you have known any of your loves or professions.
Fit and finish are sufficient. Balance is slightly blade heavy, with an easy roll hilt to point and back even so. For my purposes this is preferred. It came slathered in packing grease, so a bit of work was needed and done. Then a thin film of oil to coat the blade as it waits for something or nothing. A show piece, for any who might ask. But little do I have is merely for show. No vault or wall queens, nothing I would not, or could not, use in a pinch or push. For I have not the wealth for such. A thing that brings great ease to the mind of one who has mastered these things. And, yes, even in these days, armor will not withstand such a culmination of old tech, knowledge, and skill.
----------------
A dream, early, as I was waking this morning(evening). Yes, days and nights are tumbling again. Jews. Some personal friends, some about the general alliance between two old enemies and friends that our religions and nations have been.
I remember friends, Jewish, half Jewish, or... whatever they called themselves. For some reason, in my doings, I have met many... befriended many... on a very personal score. The ones I knew had a common problem. Either hubris beyond belief, or humility beyond despair. Not one or the other, but both. Initially I went for the ride, and would cheer or woe with them. After a bit, however, I saw the game. I let them, those of them who were my friends, know that I would not put up with it. I have the same... difficulty. And I don't, when I realize it, allow it for myself. So... hush it. Realizations as one matures, noting ones political and other history, and things... notions... mature over time. I can't say if all Jews are this way, just the ones I knew well, and as a common trait. Not just with each other, however, a shared thing... despite my not being Jew. Oh? I don't care if you like my dream or thoughts! A laugh in your general direction.
The other notion in the dream was about the West's, or really America's (until this admin) alliance with Israel. While currently we have an Israel-hater in the WH, if too an anti-American traitor so go figure, we have generally politically, and as a people, been allied with Israel. Some have suggested that Israel has not always played nice, been friendly, and some other things. True. Guilty as charged. We play that game just so as well. Allies, peoples with some.. more... common causes... than difference... always play that game. It can be played to a very thin, fine, edge. And so it has happened. Our differences can be more pronounced on a little or big issue. Still, overall, we have much more in mutual common as peoples. We both, also, currently, have an enemy in US offices and bureaucracies. They have gone through this themselves, and, as a smaller state, have had it worse... almost to the point of surrendering their nationhood. Wounds, time, hope. Just... a dream. But it seemed to sum a few things up to me, personally and politically.
----------------
I have some... things to do. Mostly just to wake, right now. But the hope is I will get back to my ventures and hit the kitchen, perhaps prepare a meal, and just enjoy my day and time... while... fancying my stiletto. I do enjoy the feel and... having filled another part to my personal warchest. It is so good to receive something that was done right an well, to have an ancient tool that lives well even in these times. Yes, more coffee... just brewed a fresh spot of it after emptying the old into my "cup", then belly. Be well, be warned, be wise, be ready.
.
Two washings seem to have taken care of the smell, or... well enough. The scent has invaded my home, and will be here for a while. I aired out the bathroom last night, which was the worst of it due to the long soaking. If I ever buy another woolen, I will do, pretty much, the same thing... only next time I would open a window to let it vent. I did close the door pretty quickly, when first wetted the area absolutely reeked. Live and learn. But, for warmth, I was amazed. Just because you order something, and the seller says it is one thing, doesn't mean it is. Actually, you can count on it not being what it is said to be, one way or another, more so in these times. The question is, is it good enough.
I ordered something else I have been meaning to get my hands on. I have been looking for this for a very long time. Thinking about it for even longer. I have daggers, dirks, folding knives, and the rest. But something I have known for longer than I have known this life, and... kept some faith with on a personal and *cough* social and political score... kept haunting my dreams. You might or might not know of it. You, most likely, think of a woman's type of shoe when you hear the name... stiletto. Or, perhaps, if you are more keen to... various blades, but are of a modernist bent, you might think of a specific sort of switchblade. Much as you might think of a claymore as an anti-personnel mine.
I remember various sorts of stilettos. Daggers, of various sorts, used to pierce mail. Well, you would call that chain mall. In one time, at least, mail was a mix of metal plates and chain-linked undergarb or supplementary additions to plates. This dagger was devised to penetrate the rings and to find the edges of the plates and pierce through undergarments. And it does so with an efficiency and ease, for a pro, that the hearts of knights could never be at full ease. It is one of the terrors that came to the dreams of knights... after a few... introductions. I can use such a device as you might a can opener. 'Over the plate, through the knot, past the stuffing, into the voice-chamber. No scream to foul the play.' Or... some such comes to my mind. I can't remember it, thus write it, correctly, for the tongue is both ancient and foreign. Neither of us would understand it fully, or probably at all. They used to speak horrible English. Probably French, but ancient French is even worse horrible English! The meaning should be clear. Anyway, that, finally, arrived after days and... a week, two? No worries.
Fit and finish are sufficient. Balance is slightly blade heavy, with an easy roll hilt to point and back even so. For my purposes this is preferred. It came slathered in packing grease, so a bit of work was needed and done. Then a thin film of oil to coat the blade as it waits for something or nothing. A show piece, for any who might ask. But little do I have is merely for show. No vault or wall queens, nothing I would not, or could not, use in a pinch or push. For I have not the wealth for such. A thing that brings great ease to the mind of one who has mastered these things. And, yes, even in these days, armor will not withstand such a culmination of old tech, knowledge, and skill.
----------------
A dream, early, as I was waking this morning(evening). Yes, days and nights are tumbling again. Jews. Some personal friends, some about the general alliance between two old enemies and friends that our religions and nations have been.
I remember friends, Jewish, half Jewish, or... whatever they called themselves. For some reason, in my doings, I have met many... befriended many... on a very personal score. The ones I knew had a common problem. Either hubris beyond belief, or humility beyond despair. Not one or the other, but both. Initially I went for the ride, and would cheer or woe with them. After a bit, however, I saw the game. I let them, those of them who were my friends, know that I would not put up with it. I have the same... difficulty. And I don't, when I realize it, allow it for myself. So... hush it. Realizations as one matures, noting ones political and other history, and things... notions... mature over time. I can't say if all Jews are this way, just the ones I knew well, and as a common trait. Not just with each other, however, a shared thing... despite my not being Jew. Oh? I don't care if you like my dream or thoughts! A laugh in your general direction.
The other notion in the dream was about the West's, or really America's (until this admin) alliance with Israel. While currently we have an Israel-hater in the WH, if too an anti-American traitor so go figure, we have generally politically, and as a people, been allied with Israel. Some have suggested that Israel has not always played nice, been friendly, and some other things. True. Guilty as charged. We play that game just so as well. Allies, peoples with some.. more... common causes... than difference... always play that game. It can be played to a very thin, fine, edge. And so it has happened. Our differences can be more pronounced on a little or big issue. Still, overall, we have much more in mutual common as peoples. We both, also, currently, have an enemy in US offices and bureaucracies. They have gone through this themselves, and, as a smaller state, have had it worse... almost to the point of surrendering their nationhood. Wounds, time, hope. Just... a dream. But it seemed to sum a few things up to me, personally and politically.
----------------
I have some... things to do. Mostly just to wake, right now. But the hope is I will get back to my ventures and hit the kitchen, perhaps prepare a meal, and just enjoy my day and time... while... fancying my stiletto. I do enjoy the feel and... having filled another part to my personal warchest. It is so good to receive something that was done right an well, to have an ancient tool that lives well even in these times. Yes, more coffee... just brewed a fresh spot of it after emptying the old into my "cup", then belly. Be well, be warned, be wise, be ready.
Reading and washing.
.
.
It was something, anyway. Then again, washing those blankets was less a want than a need. No chemical headaches, at least so far. But that mothball... they say... smell was intense, at least for the one blanket. I've been around moths and never... well... maybe they were all female? Or that isn't what mothballs really smell like, meaning the odor is from something else. The blankets were washed twice, soaked in the tub for... a while, a good long while. Then washed and tumbled dry. I won't say the worst of them is great, but the other two are pretty good. I'm about to hit it, and I want to test one of the less smelly ones out.
I continued to read. I read so late, and long, before the last actual bedtime, that I read past an important bit in the story. No worries, through this and that I caught back up and figured it all out. That's what happens when you have a reading addiction and a health problem. I like it, even so. Keeps me on my toes. Excellent reading. I like Vox's atheist antithesis. But that was a book I... had to be contemplative while reading. I didn't, or made great attempts, to not let that book get out ahead of me. I generally agree with him, but if he can lead you into a mistake, but one he prefers, or believes, he will. There were a couple of times when I could have just blithely went along, until I had to sort it later. Being well aware of the skill and ways of the author from years of blog reading, I watched the trail a little more carefully. In the book I am reading, it's like the difference between tracking big dangerous game on snowshoes, and getting to take a snowmachine out in a relatively easy course, but at full speed. Snow bank? No problem. As I mentioned, I even flipped and didn't catch it right, but still went on and did fine.
Yeah, well, it is about bedtime again. Bleh. What the heck happened to the kid energy I used to have? Actually, I think I did the same thing then. Burned it like I had it, as I had it, then went to bed for as long as I could. Some things just don't change. Some things, like just how much I had to burn, do. At least I no longer zip anything I shouldn't, where and how I shouldn't. Yeah, I probably pushed it a bit too hard back then. Thankfully, nothing was lost in the making or telling of this tall... tail. So it points backwards. Blah... the bedtime blather. Good night.
.
It was something, anyway. Then again, washing those blankets was less a want than a need. No chemical headaches, at least so far. But that mothball... they say... smell was intense, at least for the one blanket. I've been around moths and never... well... maybe they were all female? Or that isn't what mothballs really smell like, meaning the odor is from something else. The blankets were washed twice, soaked in the tub for... a while, a good long while. Then washed and tumbled dry. I won't say the worst of them is great, but the other two are pretty good. I'm about to hit it, and I want to test one of the less smelly ones out.
I continued to read. I read so late, and long, before the last actual bedtime, that I read past an important bit in the story. No worries, through this and that I caught back up and figured it all out. That's what happens when you have a reading addiction and a health problem. I like it, even so. Keeps me on my toes. Excellent reading. I like Vox's atheist antithesis. But that was a book I... had to be contemplative while reading. I didn't, or made great attempts, to not let that book get out ahead of me. I generally agree with him, but if he can lead you into a mistake, but one he prefers, or believes, he will. There were a couple of times when I could have just blithely went along, until I had to sort it later. Being well aware of the skill and ways of the author from years of blog reading, I watched the trail a little more carefully. In the book I am reading, it's like the difference between tracking big dangerous game on snowshoes, and getting to take a snowmachine out in a relatively easy course, but at full speed. Snow bank? No problem. As I mentioned, I even flipped and didn't catch it right, but still went on and did fine.
Yeah, well, it is about bedtime again. Bleh. What the heck happened to the kid energy I used to have? Actually, I think I did the same thing then. Burned it like I had it, as I had it, then went to bed for as long as I could. Some things just don't change. Some things, like just how much I had to burn, do. At least I no longer zip anything I shouldn't, where and how I shouldn't. Yeah, I probably pushed it a bit too hard back then. Thankfully, nothing was lost in the making or telling of this tall... tail. So it points backwards. Blah... the bedtime blather. Good night.
Napped like I earned it.
.
.
I hadn't been awake long, well, really awake. I hit a wall like a speeding car. Came to a dead stop, crashed, but didn't burn. Good sleep. Really good. I was hoping it would reset my schedule, or offer the opportunity for it. That didn't work out. Still, gotta do what you gotta do.
Before I found out I may have a minor financial disaster to work, I ordered some things. Among the items are a couple of wool blankets. Not the pressed ones, the real things. They do come covered in... something. Something nasty. Reminds me of the peacoat I was issued in the service, at least before it was sent away for cleaning. I think that was the first thing that happened, before we even took them anywhere. Fitted, name stenciling, then off to the cleaners. The other smell was of the dungaree blue. They must have died those things for a week, several times. I don't think that odor ever came off. Still, no problem. But I don't want to take them to a dry cleaner.
With a front loading washer, after an initial cold wash, I'll probably just hang them somewhere. My clothes-line isn't strong enough to handle them. I'll figure something out. They weren't actually too awfully smelly until they got wet. I had almost thought to just let them go, but... just couldn't. Glad I didn't. I could only imagine being out in the wilds and having them get wet for the first time. Beside being nasty to the nose, the stuff they use is damned toxic. Won't kill a critter like me, but could make me sick. Out in the bush is not a good place to be sick.
As I said, I am gearing up for functional camping. I won't have a cellphone, I won't be taking home appliances, I won't have this, or that, or the other thing. I hope to have just the basics, man style, perhaps a fishing license and minor gear, enough food to allow me to merely scrape by though for an extra three days, a couple of means of cleaning water, basic cleaning and medical kit, cordage, cutting, and fire starter gear with a notion to learn how to make fire without that. Some hiking, some fishing, and sleeping as need be. The first trip will be, perhaps, what others consider a two day trip. I will give myself four days, and prep for that, just in case. I can choose where to go, to make sure I have a source of water, room to camp without being trampled by hordes of others, and some other things. I haven't decided where to go yet, but I have been, roughly, looking for a while. There are several possible choices. I have to take an easier course first.
Maybe just a pipe dream. But it's there. I have most gear, I just wanted a decent axe, wool blankets, tarpline, and a few other things. I do have 550 parachute cord, but it isn't dependable. I bought it before I realized that there are a lot of fakes out there of that. I want cordage that I know. I'll compare some of the stuff I buy to some of the stuff I have, to see where it really fits. Who knows if I will ever get out. I will be ready if I end up, one day, after planning and plotting and hording, to just go.
Yeah. Even before Mark Twain, both myself and my brother always wanted to... just go. A few years, some experience and other experiences, and... perhaps... a little planning isn't a bad thing after all. It's not like we never did go, but to mixed results. But then again, that is camping, or even life. The draw, or the ideal, will never be the real. But that is why, when you are done, you go home, I suppose. It's the attempt at perfecting the real that is the draw. Not to make the ideal real, but just the reverse. To learn to live with, and enjoy, the real... come what may. Same with all of my efforts after the brass rounds dropped and I realized I could make real, but real wasn't ideal, and what those differences are.
Hmm? Don't know. Almost sleep talking. Later.
.
I hadn't been awake long, well, really awake. I hit a wall like a speeding car. Came to a dead stop, crashed, but didn't burn. Good sleep. Really good. I was hoping it would reset my schedule, or offer the opportunity for it. That didn't work out. Still, gotta do what you gotta do.
Before I found out I may have a minor financial disaster to work, I ordered some things. Among the items are a couple of wool blankets. Not the pressed ones, the real things. They do come covered in... something. Something nasty. Reminds me of the peacoat I was issued in the service, at least before it was sent away for cleaning. I think that was the first thing that happened, before we even took them anywhere. Fitted, name stenciling, then off to the cleaners. The other smell was of the dungaree blue. They must have died those things for a week, several times. I don't think that odor ever came off. Still, no problem. But I don't want to take them to a dry cleaner.
With a front loading washer, after an initial cold wash, I'll probably just hang them somewhere. My clothes-line isn't strong enough to handle them. I'll figure something out. They weren't actually too awfully smelly until they got wet. I had almost thought to just let them go, but... just couldn't. Glad I didn't. I could only imagine being out in the wilds and having them get wet for the first time. Beside being nasty to the nose, the stuff they use is damned toxic. Won't kill a critter like me, but could make me sick. Out in the bush is not a good place to be sick.
As I said, I am gearing up for functional camping. I won't have a cellphone, I won't be taking home appliances, I won't have this, or that, or the other thing. I hope to have just the basics, man style, perhaps a fishing license and minor gear, enough food to allow me to merely scrape by though for an extra three days, a couple of means of cleaning water, basic cleaning and medical kit, cordage, cutting, and fire starter gear with a notion to learn how to make fire without that. Some hiking, some fishing, and sleeping as need be. The first trip will be, perhaps, what others consider a two day trip. I will give myself four days, and prep for that, just in case. I can choose where to go, to make sure I have a source of water, room to camp without being trampled by hordes of others, and some other things. I haven't decided where to go yet, but I have been, roughly, looking for a while. There are several possible choices. I have to take an easier course first.
Maybe just a pipe dream. But it's there. I have most gear, I just wanted a decent axe, wool blankets, tarpline, and a few other things. I do have 550 parachute cord, but it isn't dependable. I bought it before I realized that there are a lot of fakes out there of that. I want cordage that I know. I'll compare some of the stuff I buy to some of the stuff I have, to see where it really fits. Who knows if I will ever get out. I will be ready if I end up, one day, after planning and plotting and hording, to just go.
Yeah. Even before Mark Twain, both myself and my brother always wanted to... just go. A few years, some experience and other experiences, and... perhaps... a little planning isn't a bad thing after all. It's not like we never did go, but to mixed results. But then again, that is camping, or even life. The draw, or the ideal, will never be the real. But that is why, when you are done, you go home, I suppose. It's the attempt at perfecting the real that is the draw. Not to make the ideal real, but just the reverse. To learn to live with, and enjoy, the real... come what may. Same with all of my efforts after the brass rounds dropped and I realized I could make real, but real wasn't ideal, and what those differences are.
Hmm? Don't know. Almost sleep talking. Later.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
You wouldn't believe.
.
.
Looking out at a shadowy yet oddly lit sky draped over peaks to the southwest and east. It's a magical day, to me, in that regard. There is something about natural beauty, when it strikes me right between the eyes like a bullet. Sometimes all else is set down just... just to look, stare, know something incredible is before me.
It's more than just a gooder day, it is a good day. Not just health, but mood and those views. Some days it's like God Himself has come down and said, "Here is your ticket. One free pass to a limited view of heaven here on earth." And so it is. I'm spending the ticket well.
I still hope to do other things. Something along the lines of actual work, small as that, or better those, tasks might be. It's not that I forget, in a technical sense. It's just that, often lately, when I get up to go do something, before I can reach 'something', my mind has already flitted to another something. Usually the new something is epistomological, or specifically theological, or from the lit but foggy future or dim dusky past. It's not a purposeful thing. Enhanced, but not from, illness mind you. My head has always sought the clouds. When I can't rise to the clouds they simply come to me.
Oh, just... chattering to no one in particular. It is good to share the good, as well as the bad. A diary will do, and the girls. Later.
.
Looking out at a shadowy yet oddly lit sky draped over peaks to the southwest and east. It's a magical day, to me, in that regard. There is something about natural beauty, when it strikes me right between the eyes like a bullet. Sometimes all else is set down just... just to look, stare, know something incredible is before me.
It's more than just a gooder day, it is a good day. Not just health, but mood and those views. Some days it's like God Himself has come down and said, "Here is your ticket. One free pass to a limited view of heaven here on earth." And so it is. I'm spending the ticket well.
I still hope to do other things. Something along the lines of actual work, small as that, or better those, tasks might be. It's not that I forget, in a technical sense. It's just that, often lately, when I get up to go do something, before I can reach 'something', my mind has already flitted to another something. Usually the new something is epistomological, or specifically theological, or from the lit but foggy future or dim dusky past. It's not a purposeful thing. Enhanced, but not from, illness mind you. My head has always sought the clouds. When I can't rise to the clouds they simply come to me.
Oh, just... chattering to no one in particular. It is good to share the good, as well as the bad. A diary will do, and the girls. Later.
Bad boy?
.
.
I don't think so. Grinning, insufferable fool, perhaps. Chasing my, and other, tails maybe. Laughing and raising as stink, just an adult version of what I did when diapers where the fashion though. I've been pission men and women off since before I was born, why stop now? So long as my grin, glib tongue, and fearful nature can keep me from being lit afire or chased to the next kingdom, one way, or kingdom even the one to come, or another? Well. Yes. Don't mind me. I'm just, probably, not even aware much of the time. Nothing personal. Presenting yourself or your petitions just offers me something with which to interact, or spring-board off. *boing*
Feeling gooder, again, today. Surprisingly even this morning, first thing. I woke while it was still morning. Not that that means much. Too little sleep is what it means. Not sure why I woke. I am still tired, though I should be. I went to bed at 2:00, or more like 4:00? But then read until my poor eyes kept snapping open and shut, and my hand kept trying to drop the ebook I was reading. See, that is good reading. I've been vacuumed into the fictitious world and can't get enough.
Oh, by the way, there is a new book bomb going on.
Wonderful, fine, good little life I have sometimes. Even through the various pains, ghosts, and the shadows of guilt and shame that can still return to haunt once relinquished. I don't bargain with them, when I find my course. I fight them. But I don't always get the last word on every such conversation, in the short run. Even these have mellowed, mostly. Sometimes merely offering a start, as seeing a shadow move behind one in the mirror. Other times pulling me back to a time when I was that shadow. Still, just moments. Moments that help remind why today is so good. Starts that leave me, in the end, smiling and pleased with the path I have chosen. Moments all know, to greater or smaller lengths. Wonderful. Even when it hurts, mostly.
I will... try to get to something today. I don't know what. I seem to be casting about for what will make the legs work and the mind focus. Not finding it, I simply satisfy myself watching the psychic silver fish swim about in their schools, shifting and sorting. While it gets nothing done, it is a fine hobby and makes for a pleasant day. Oh, I'll keep... thinking about more. When I remember to think about more. Oh! Fishes! Bright shinies. Yum! Later.
Oh, right. I'm supposed to be grumpy? Yeah? Then get off my damned porch! *grins* Yeah, I suck at it today. Maybe tamale? Only if I'm hungry! Shut up. Off the porch. Scoot.
.
I don't think so. Grinning, insufferable fool, perhaps. Chasing my, and other, tails maybe. Laughing and raising as stink, just an adult version of what I did when diapers where the fashion though. I've been pission men and women off since before I was born, why stop now? So long as my grin, glib tongue, and fearful nature can keep me from being lit afire or chased to the next kingdom, one way, or kingdom even the one to come, or another? Well. Yes. Don't mind me. I'm just, probably, not even aware much of the time. Nothing personal. Presenting yourself or your petitions just offers me something with which to interact, or spring-board off. *boing*
Feeling gooder, again, today. Surprisingly even this morning, first thing. I woke while it was still morning. Not that that means much. Too little sleep is what it means. Not sure why I woke. I am still tired, though I should be. I went to bed at 2:00, or more like 4:00? But then read until my poor eyes kept snapping open and shut, and my hand kept trying to drop the ebook I was reading. See, that is good reading. I've been vacuumed into the fictitious world and can't get enough.
Oh, by the way, there is a new book bomb going on.
BEST SHORT STORYAgain with the link. Further, he offers links to some free short stories. Go, buy, read. If these are as good as what I have seen so far, you won't be missing the coin (until later). :)
Wonderful, fine, good little life I have sometimes. Even through the various pains, ghosts, and the shadows of guilt and shame that can still return to haunt once relinquished. I don't bargain with them, when I find my course. I fight them. But I don't always get the last word on every such conversation, in the short run. Even these have mellowed, mostly. Sometimes merely offering a start, as seeing a shadow move behind one in the mirror. Other times pulling me back to a time when I was that shadow. Still, just moments. Moments that help remind why today is so good. Starts that leave me, in the end, smiling and pleased with the path I have chosen. Moments all know, to greater or smaller lengths. Wonderful. Even when it hurts, mostly.
I will... try to get to something today. I don't know what. I seem to be casting about for what will make the legs work and the mind focus. Not finding it, I simply satisfy myself watching the psychic silver fish swim about in their schools, shifting and sorting. While it gets nothing done, it is a fine hobby and makes for a pleasant day. Oh, I'll keep... thinking about more. When I remember to think about more. Oh! Fishes! Bright shinies. Yum! Later.
Oh, right. I'm supposed to be grumpy? Yeah? Then get off my damned porch! *grins* Yeah, I suck at it today. Maybe tamale? Only if I'm hungry! Shut up. Off the porch. Scoot.
A different nightscape.
.
.
Dinner arrived. I believe I surprised my host guest. I was in good spirits. Something some, most, do not understand... I am always pleased to see a familiar, friendly, and better both, face. No matter how bad things might be. Few have died. Of those few have remembered. Something I knew before I did was that dying alone was a dark thing. If I have killed, and had the time and ability, I stayed with them until they were gone. Not to gloat, but so as to comfort them. We were only enemies in life. That time had passed. So, when I feel the hurt of the memory of death, for myself, of others, a familiar friendly face will cause me to cover the pain easily. Much as a dying dog will try to lift himself and wag his tail when his friends approach, even at great pains. An old dog some days.
The pain has passed, as much as it will. It is a gift, you know. The pain of loving and losing. It reminds us how precious love is, how dear life is, and how alive we are. Can't always see it, but it's there. Yes, but that has passed, mostly, for now. An odd and curious notion has taken it's place. A wonder at women, love, sex, and... just kicking around with a smile and a nature. For me that is masculine, sometimes, mostly. But as with good and evil, where one is, the other is sure to be. Neither have I completely left the other notion. I am... mixed. As bastards always are, if not always in the same ways. I have been delayed, many times. Others have been delayed... longer.
.
Dinner arrived. I believe I surprised my host guest. I was in good spirits. Something some, most, do not understand... I am always pleased to see a familiar, friendly, and better both, face. No matter how bad things might be. Few have died. Of those few have remembered. Something I knew before I did was that dying alone was a dark thing. If I have killed, and had the time and ability, I stayed with them until they were gone. Not to gloat, but so as to comfort them. We were only enemies in life. That time had passed. So, when I feel the hurt of the memory of death, for myself, of others, a familiar friendly face will cause me to cover the pain easily. Much as a dying dog will try to lift himself and wag his tail when his friends approach, even at great pains. An old dog some days.
The pain has passed, as much as it will. It is a gift, you know. The pain of loving and losing. It reminds us how precious love is, how dear life is, and how alive we are. Can't always see it, but it's there. Yes, but that has passed, mostly, for now. An odd and curious notion has taken it's place. A wonder at women, love, sex, and... just kicking around with a smile and a nature. For me that is masculine, sometimes, mostly. But as with good and evil, where one is, the other is sure to be. Neither have I completely left the other notion. I am... mixed. As bastards always are, if not always in the same ways. I have been delayed, many times. Others have been delayed... longer.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Death is such a strange thing.
.
.
Whether a personal touch or an impersonal understanding, knowing those it has touched or just seeing some of the results or indications of death... it has a way of moving even stone. Recent deaths, both personal, social, close, far, and nearly anonymous have been weighing on my mind. Today, a final installment to break the dam. Jealousy, too, as I have noted. Just a little thing, I am sure I will get my turn, again. If I may get more turns than is usual, as usual, for me. Still, the notion and loss has me at a disadvantage on this day. Just a sadness. Not for those who have moved on, but for us slugs who must carry on, and for those who were closer yet.
Prayers and thoughts. Prayers for those who left, young or old, right or wrong. Memories, familiarity, knowledge of how they went, when, but little more sometimes. Faces, voices, gone. Some who, only now, realize the value of the prayers. And yet, there is some hope that grace is a knowledge, or is still available to them. None, save they, and those with them and before them, truly know. Still, prayers. To ease the cracks in the stone that is my heart. Nothing was made perfectly immutable, not here, not even the Son... the good one.
Just... some thoughts. And, of course, just a touch of music. Music that fits. Won't even hurt your ears, eyes, or serenity, mostly on that last. No one is laughing, and yet...
.
Whether a personal touch or an impersonal understanding, knowing those it has touched or just seeing some of the results or indications of death... it has a way of moving even stone. Recent deaths, both personal, social, close, far, and nearly anonymous have been weighing on my mind. Today, a final installment to break the dam. Jealousy, too, as I have noted. Just a little thing, I am sure I will get my turn, again. If I may get more turns than is usual, as usual, for me. Still, the notion and loss has me at a disadvantage on this day. Just a sadness. Not for those who have moved on, but for us slugs who must carry on, and for those who were closer yet.
Prayers and thoughts. Prayers for those who left, young or old, right or wrong. Memories, familiarity, knowledge of how they went, when, but little more sometimes. Faces, voices, gone. Some who, only now, realize the value of the prayers. And yet, there is some hope that grace is a knowledge, or is still available to them. None, save they, and those with them and before them, truly know. Still, prayers. To ease the cracks in the stone that is my heart. Nothing was made perfectly immutable, not here, not even the Son... the good one.
Just... some thoughts. And, of course, just a touch of music. Music that fits. Won't even hurt your ears, eyes, or serenity, mostly on that last. No one is laughing, and yet...
Oh, another thing...
.
.
Google has informed that on March 23, any site they consider dirty, or something, will be forced to become private. I have no idea what their notion of such is, who the arbiter is, though I suspect who they will, and will not, target. If they, whoever they is, decide that a site is henceforth unacceptable, they will force it to private viewership. I have no illusions, whether the censors are government bureaucrats or leftist stooges working for the company (do they have any other?), my blog will probably be wiped. We'll see, just letting you know.
If I had the mojo, I would wrap up my blog and take it elsewhere. Would for other reasons anyway. The truth is, conservatives are not really welcome anywhere. So I am not sure that would help. A new set of bureaucrats to hassle with, a new set of complaints trying to take my blog off. Actually, finally, it seems that complaints no longer endanger my site every six to eighteen months. Yes, I went through lockouts, shutdowns, the inability to post comments, all kinds of crap. It's been a while now. Still, looks like they are using the government to help them force some things off the web. I solidly expect to be among those. Not much to do about it. Hey, your tax dollars are finally doing something. I guess we will see.
Just giving you fair warning, that I have received veiled threats, and that March 23 may be the day the blog dies.
.
Google has informed that on March 23, any site they consider dirty, or something, will be forced to become private. I have no idea what their notion of such is, who the arbiter is, though I suspect who they will, and will not, target. If they, whoever they is, decide that a site is henceforth unacceptable, they will force it to private viewership. I have no illusions, whether the censors are government bureaucrats or leftist stooges working for the company (do they have any other?), my blog will probably be wiped. We'll see, just letting you know.
If I had the mojo, I would wrap up my blog and take it elsewhere. Would for other reasons anyway. The truth is, conservatives are not really welcome anywhere. So I am not sure that would help. A new set of bureaucrats to hassle with, a new set of complaints trying to take my blog off. Actually, finally, it seems that complaints no longer endanger my site every six to eighteen months. Yes, I went through lockouts, shutdowns, the inability to post comments, all kinds of crap. It's been a while now. Still, looks like they are using the government to help them force some things off the web. I solidly expect to be among those. Not much to do about it. Hey, your tax dollars are finally doing something. I guess we will see.
Just giving you fair warning, that I have received veiled threats, and that March 23 may be the day the blog dies.
A good start.
.
.
A late start, but not so late as yesterday... even though I stayed up later. Go figure. I'm just a passenger when life goes in this direction. I'm not completely at the whim of those winds, but there are some practical limits to my ability to shift things. So... I do as I may, put up with the rest. Still, sleep was good. I dreamed, several dreams. All are gone, dissipated before I woke. Even before waking, I knew they were gone. I may sleep a little differently than others. I, usually, have some aspect that is asleep, some that is conscious within the confines, and some that is partly awake. Perhaps that is normal? Don't know, but it's the way I know it.
I am feeling much better today, and most of yesterday actually. I am going to make a stab at getting to a few things today. Nothing much, but along the lines of what I am hoping to accomplish in my home. Cleaning, clearing, arranging. Stupid stuff, but it does actually pay off. I'm not a domestic diva, I am just hoping to optimize a few processes and clear the home to clear the mind. Yeah, it works, if you can do it. I am almost as good at this as I am gardening. Never mind.
I am hoping to get a couple of dedicated portions of time just for reading. I am actually excited to get back to it. I have tasted of such prose in a coon's age, perhaps more. Tasty. I wonder if my dreams, or at least one of them, a look around this new world I have found through reading. As I think about it, I suspect so. Sharks have teeth by which to test the world, I have many things. One of the more potent is dreaming. I can't program so as to make worlds and delve, change, control, and monitor. But I can dream better than any machine. Simply, though, I can't always remember. Never to worry, mind you. Memory isn't just a thing for your conscious mind. My subconscious and unconscious mind also have their own memory stacks. And... it does go to show. Consciousness is the tip of the iceberg. If you learn how to tap into that other, you will never be empty. I have been forced to do so by my medical ailment. Some do it natively, or for other reasons.
Oh, yes, a good day I do believe. I might have to, slowly, work on getting my schedule back. But I won't let it interferre with getting back on my feet in other ways, not yet. I can only push just so much right at the moment. I'd rather push to my goals than to a daytime schedule up front. Who knows what I can do, still a bit off. But feeling so good I almost suspect I could dance. So, dance I will, as I may. Good day.
.
A late start, but not so late as yesterday... even though I stayed up later. Go figure. I'm just a passenger when life goes in this direction. I'm not completely at the whim of those winds, but there are some practical limits to my ability to shift things. So... I do as I may, put up with the rest. Still, sleep was good. I dreamed, several dreams. All are gone, dissipated before I woke. Even before waking, I knew they were gone. I may sleep a little differently than others. I, usually, have some aspect that is asleep, some that is conscious within the confines, and some that is partly awake. Perhaps that is normal? Don't know, but it's the way I know it.
I am feeling much better today, and most of yesterday actually. I am going to make a stab at getting to a few things today. Nothing much, but along the lines of what I am hoping to accomplish in my home. Cleaning, clearing, arranging. Stupid stuff, but it does actually pay off. I'm not a domestic diva, I am just hoping to optimize a few processes and clear the home to clear the mind. Yeah, it works, if you can do it. I am almost as good at this as I am gardening. Never mind.
I am hoping to get a couple of dedicated portions of time just for reading. I am actually excited to get back to it. I have tasted of such prose in a coon's age, perhaps more. Tasty. I wonder if my dreams, or at least one of them, a look around this new world I have found through reading. As I think about it, I suspect so. Sharks have teeth by which to test the world, I have many things. One of the more potent is dreaming. I can't program so as to make worlds and delve, change, control, and monitor. But I can dream better than any machine. Simply, though, I can't always remember. Never to worry, mind you. Memory isn't just a thing for your conscious mind. My subconscious and unconscious mind also have their own memory stacks. And... it does go to show. Consciousness is the tip of the iceberg. If you learn how to tap into that other, you will never be empty. I have been forced to do so by my medical ailment. Some do it natively, or for other reasons.
Oh, yes, a good day I do believe. I might have to, slowly, work on getting my schedule back. But I won't let it interferre with getting back on my feet in other ways, not yet. I can only push just so much right at the moment. I'd rather push to my goals than to a daytime schedule up front. Who knows what I can do, still a bit off. But feeling so good I almost suspect I could dance. So, dance I will, as I may. Good day.
Reading was fantastic.
.
.
I had thought to begin one of the books purchased in the book bomb, the last one. While I purchased those ebooks, there was another from one of the authors which... called to me. I have never heard of any of the authors, save through the site to which I posted a link. I have read a small, perhaps medium, library worth of sci-fi. For years reading between two and five books a week. But the sci-fi/fantasy world was, and remains, a vast ocean. There seems to be no limit to choices, if there is a limit to quality writers and time. Even of just, what I would call quality writers, there are far too many too know. Truly. Well, and writers tend to wax and wane, sometimes cyclically, sometimes like a light switch. *click*
I saw a book, however, as I was buying those other books, that... just caught my eye. I have seen it before. Not in flesh, in dreams. I have seen the tower on the front, or one like it, also in dreams. Actually, when I saw the cover, I knew it was for me before realizing it did happen to be written by one of the authors of the books in the book bomb campaign. How fortuitous. Still, I had to see if the books I purchased were in a series, and where to start, and all that jazz. Such things, when I am ill, take time. That done... I then had to propose to read the books, and wait until there was time, or a time, when no other calling, disturbance, or illness itself, precluded reading. I am beginning to think I understand how aristocracy works. Oh, trust me, it wasn't God that granted them anything. It was merely that as some became wealthy and came to power, they became stated, stodgy, conservative in all things, and... things took on a life of their own. Poor, perhaps, but I am an aristocrat in some ways even so.
In any case, after having all of the reasons not to read taken care of, and all of the information I required in order to read read and to my satisfaction, I accidented into a time for reading. Right.
The book I chose was Awake in the Night Land, by John C. Wright. I wasn't expecting too much, nor too little. This author seems to tickle some of my favored rascals of the interwebs. I can't say if I have heard this book, or any other, specifically mentioned. But the author has been noted often enough. Then again, I try not to remember what I don't think will pertain to me, or personal tidbits that I think might... be troublesome in some way should it fall into the wrong hands. I'm... odd, but true, that way. In any case, I was curious. There is always hope. But as often as I have read crap books by authors hoisted with laurels who should have been toasted and hoisted upon petards, which if studied back to origins, might be fairly saying I could also fart in their general direction. Love how words work, innit?
As it turns out, it is... a wonderful start on the stack I have just purchased. I couldn't have asked for better writing or the start of a finer story. I dropped into it, like in the old days, when I was young and sci-fi was catnip. I would still be reading but my limits, whether for work, play, or even reading, are real. I have little stamina for these things, currently. Still, I'll hit it as I can. Loverly. Truly a wonderful thing. I just hope they are all this good. Or at least good enough to draw me back in. Nerd crack, I'm telling you. If they are all along these lines, I might get back to my old reading schedule. They might even get me up to finishing, or restarting, Summa Theologica. I know I can do it, I just have to be in some kind of reading shape. The bible calls me, sometimes, and I just read it. Other things take a bit more... something. Even should I enjoy greatly.
Hmm... not sure what to do now. It's almost bedtime. I'll figure something out, music perhaps. Good night.
.
I had thought to begin one of the books purchased in the book bomb, the last one. While I purchased those ebooks, there was another from one of the authors which... called to me. I have never heard of any of the authors, save through the site to which I posted a link. I have read a small, perhaps medium, library worth of sci-fi. For years reading between two and five books a week. But the sci-fi/fantasy world was, and remains, a vast ocean. There seems to be no limit to choices, if there is a limit to quality writers and time. Even of just, what I would call quality writers, there are far too many too know. Truly. Well, and writers tend to wax and wane, sometimes cyclically, sometimes like a light switch. *click*
I saw a book, however, as I was buying those other books, that... just caught my eye. I have seen it before. Not in flesh, in dreams. I have seen the tower on the front, or one like it, also in dreams. Actually, when I saw the cover, I knew it was for me before realizing it did happen to be written by one of the authors of the books in the book bomb campaign. How fortuitous. Still, I had to see if the books I purchased were in a series, and where to start, and all that jazz. Such things, when I am ill, take time. That done... I then had to propose to read the books, and wait until there was time, or a time, when no other calling, disturbance, or illness itself, precluded reading. I am beginning to think I understand how aristocracy works. Oh, trust me, it wasn't God that granted them anything. It was merely that as some became wealthy and came to power, they became stated, stodgy, conservative in all things, and... things took on a life of their own. Poor, perhaps, but I am an aristocrat in some ways even so.
In any case, after having all of the reasons not to read taken care of, and all of the information I required in order to read read and to my satisfaction, I accidented into a time for reading. Right.
The book I chose was Awake in the Night Land, by John C. Wright. I wasn't expecting too much, nor too little. This author seems to tickle some of my favored rascals of the interwebs. I can't say if I have heard this book, or any other, specifically mentioned. But the author has been noted often enough. Then again, I try not to remember what I don't think will pertain to me, or personal tidbits that I think might... be troublesome in some way should it fall into the wrong hands. I'm... odd, but true, that way. In any case, I was curious. There is always hope. But as often as I have read crap books by authors hoisted with laurels who should have been toasted and hoisted upon petards, which if studied back to origins, might be fairly saying I could also fart in their general direction. Love how words work, innit?
As it turns out, it is... a wonderful start on the stack I have just purchased. I couldn't have asked for better writing or the start of a finer story. I dropped into it, like in the old days, when I was young and sci-fi was catnip. I would still be reading but my limits, whether for work, play, or even reading, are real. I have little stamina for these things, currently. Still, I'll hit it as I can. Loverly. Truly a wonderful thing. I just hope they are all this good. Or at least good enough to draw me back in. Nerd crack, I'm telling you. If they are all along these lines, I might get back to my old reading schedule. They might even get me up to finishing, or restarting, Summa Theologica. I know I can do it, I just have to be in some kind of reading shape. The bible calls me, sometimes, and I just read it. Other things take a bit more... something. Even should I enjoy greatly.
Hmm... not sure what to do now. It's almost bedtime. I'll figure something out, music perhaps. Good night.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Ah, reading, I guess.
.
.
I'm a bit burned out with the blog world and stupid news cycles. More information is being hidden than what is revealed. It is becoming very difficult to find any accurate information, and that is just regarding America. What is happening is Europe, Africa, the Middle East, all shrouded. You can find bits and pieces of information, from sources that haven't received the memo, or aren't beholding to some establishment or government. But it is like finding hens teeth. Even my usual sources seem to have sold out. I knew some of them had sold out long ago, mostly to the establishment GOP. Some have sold out to... unknown concerns. Some of them are true believers. But they are no longer, strictly speaking, alternative news sources. Still, once in a while, perhaps in comments, or on topics they haven't sold about, there are bits. The rest have to be pried from a dying internet. It is being lorded over by governments and businesses through lawyers and laws. It is dying a slow wretched death.
I researched the books I purchased. Most of them seem to be stand alone anthologies. A good way to preview an author, and consider buying more of his work. And good for short attention spans. I would game, but I'm not up to that either. I have a couple of bluray I haven't watched recently, but that doesn't sound interesting. I'm not in really great shape, if better than the last few days. So... reading... I suppose. If the books are good enough, perhaps it won't be as miserable as reading can be, in this sort of condition.
Oh, yeah, the life the the morgue party. On the good side, shut up. I'm not really that grumpy, just stuck between here and there and not sure what to do about it. And I've got some tough business coming up, when I figure out how to even go about it. Bleh. Later.
.
I'm a bit burned out with the blog world and stupid news cycles. More information is being hidden than what is revealed. It is becoming very difficult to find any accurate information, and that is just regarding America. What is happening is Europe, Africa, the Middle East, all shrouded. You can find bits and pieces of information, from sources that haven't received the memo, or aren't beholding to some establishment or government. But it is like finding hens teeth. Even my usual sources seem to have sold out. I knew some of them had sold out long ago, mostly to the establishment GOP. Some have sold out to... unknown concerns. Some of them are true believers. But they are no longer, strictly speaking, alternative news sources. Still, once in a while, perhaps in comments, or on topics they haven't sold about, there are bits. The rest have to be pried from a dying internet. It is being lorded over by governments and businesses through lawyers and laws. It is dying a slow wretched death.
I researched the books I purchased. Most of them seem to be stand alone anthologies. A good way to preview an author, and consider buying more of his work. And good for short attention spans. I would game, but I'm not up to that either. I have a couple of bluray I haven't watched recently, but that doesn't sound interesting. I'm not in really great shape, if better than the last few days. So... reading... I suppose. If the books are good enough, perhaps it won't be as miserable as reading can be, in this sort of condition.
Oh, yeah, the life the the morgue party. On the good side, shut up. I'm not really that grumpy, just stuck between here and there and not sure what to do about it. And I've got some tough business coming up, when I figure out how to even go about it. Bleh. Later.
A tribe of one.
.
.
Well, in some sense, a truth for all, or potential truth. For me it is the way of it. Push come to shove, I am alone. I understand this. It is part of why I chose many of the things I chose, gone the ways I have gone, and am how I have come to be. I've pulled it off as best as I could. I am alive. And yet, I know, there are times where one is not enough. So, when I have found various tribes, I have thrown in with them, from time to time. Yet, not in surrenders. Any tribe I choose to throw in with had better have the balls to back strong bones and right will. Oh, sure, I've made mistakes. I corrected those when and how I should. There is another tribal effort I am joining. GamerGate, to some degree, and more along the lines of writers.
This Wednesday, they will be hosting another "book bomb". There are three short stories/novellas coming up for a push. The idea is to buy these books, on a particular day, so as to boost their ratings. Why? Several reasons. On the one side, it is to support good writers who might never have seen the light of day due to political correctness in main stream media. Yes, boys and girls, political correctness and insufferable leftist hate has infected everything, not just the "newsmen" you see on television, or Hollywood, or "newspaper" editorialship. It has infected prose in all it's forms. So, some have created a printing company, have begun selecting the best of the writers who have been kept out, and is pushing to end political censorship. They are doing well.
I choose to join this group for a single reason. To me, from what I have seen, the work is worth supporting on it's own. And yet, that much of it would never otherwise have seen the market due to political oppression, right here in America, makes my blood boil. I have seen it coming, and taking over, starting long ago with academia, but now in everything. It is the dark spirit of oppressive government, the shadow that comes and uses threats, and isolation, and whatever other tactics it can to gain power. That is what this about, and what is being fought. And, so, I join the tribe that has decided to do something about it. Oh, a little thing, that I do. A few dollars, a bit of writing, pretty lame. But it is what I can do. You can read more below, the content of which is also a link to more information. Wasn't quite sure how to put it together, so... still, there you go.
.
Well, in some sense, a truth for all, or potential truth. For me it is the way of it. Push come to shove, I am alone. I understand this. It is part of why I chose many of the things I chose, gone the ways I have gone, and am how I have come to be. I've pulled it off as best as I could. I am alive. And yet, I know, there are times where one is not enough. So, when I have found various tribes, I have thrown in with them, from time to time. Yet, not in surrenders. Any tribe I choose to throw in with had better have the balls to back strong bones and right will. Oh, sure, I've made mistakes. I corrected those when and how I should. There is another tribal effort I am joining. GamerGate, to some degree, and more along the lines of writers.
This Wednesday, they will be hosting another "book bomb". There are three short stories/novellas coming up for a push. The idea is to buy these books, on a particular day, so as to boost their ratings. Why? Several reasons. On the one side, it is to support good writers who might never have seen the light of day due to political correctness in main stream media. Yes, boys and girls, political correctness and insufferable leftist hate has infected everything, not just the "newsmen" you see on television, or Hollywood, or "newspaper" editorialship. It has infected prose in all it's forms. So, some have created a printing company, have begun selecting the best of the writers who have been kept out, and is pushing to end political censorship. They are doing well.
I choose to join this group for a single reason. To me, from what I have seen, the work is worth supporting on it's own. And yet, that much of it would never otherwise have seen the market due to political oppression, right here in America, makes my blood boil. I have seen it coming, and taking over, starting long ago with academia, but now in everything. It is the dark spirit of oppressive government, the shadow that comes and uses threats, and isolation, and whatever other tactics it can to gain power. That is what this about, and what is being fought. And, so, I join the tribe that has decided to do something about it. Oh, a little thing, that I do. A few dollars, a bit of writing, pretty lame. But it is what I can do. You can read more below, the content of which is also a link to more information. Wasn't quite sure how to put it together, so... still, there you go.
Now, there are some differences in the Rabid Puppies and Sad Puppies recommendations here, so what we're going to do in addition to fully supporting the Short Fiction Book Bomb is a) post links to the two Rabid Puppies stories by Steve Rzasa and John C. Wright so people can read them for free, and b) post a link to The Book of Feasts & Seasons which contains two Rabid Puppies recommendations, one for novelette and one for short story, so Book Bombers can bomb it if they wish to do so.I figured I would give you a few days notice. The "book bomb", as I mentioned, is Wednesday. Don't burn the dastardly, buy the good. If you do, and end up not liking the stories, don't do it again... unless you like pushing for freedom and do so on principal. But, worth a shot for a few books and the potential for some good reading and an introduction to, from what I have heard, are a pack of pretty solid new writers. I'll put up a link Wednesday, again, if I'm not entombed in illness.
Went in hard.
.
.
But slept long and well. I almost feel that an alley, around an upcoming corner, might get me out of my own little slice of hell. If not this next one, the one after. I'll keep looking for a way off this River Styx that I seem to be stuck on. When taking out the trash and recycling end up being too being too big of a job to just do... forgetting is one thing, a different thing... then I know I am in trouble. It took four hours last night, and I was zapped when I was done. As well, with the thermostat set at 76, I was cold. Even though I was fully dressed and had warmed by taking a shower. Crazy. Then again, I have had worse.
I did realize I had an appointment coming up tomorrow. I was really pushing to keep my schedule in order, so that I could go in. But that failed. Waking, today, at 14:00, and hour after when my appointment is scheduled for tomorrow, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to turn back the clock. So I called and changed the date. That is an improvement. There were decades where if I became ill, I had zero chance of calling in, let alone even knowing an appointment was coming. I can't even imagine how many appointments I missed. I had no chance. It's a dental. As I said, I am very leery of going to a V.A., knowing Zero is pushing to have ebola patients shipped in. The V.A. is the one hospital system that is so political controlled that they could force doctors to treat such patients, and do it secretly. Not even all doctors, admin, or staff, would necessarily know or be told. Dental is off-campus, a bit, so it is probably safer.
Today? I don't know. I plan on breathing. Maybe eating. I might go get the barrels from the curb. Well, you asked. That is probably it today. Long days, in my condition, beat the crap out of me. And I don't have much poop to start. So... I'll recover, I guess. I might grump, too. No, no might about it. *f'ing grump!* Oh, but I suppose I can do some research. There are a few things I wanted to check, a few new things I want to know, and... just... well... things. While I won't even plan a day, I will plan for a time when I can plan. I don't get to die so I won't just quit. Dang rules! Yeah, but there... can be some humor in it.
Oh, don't be morose about it. I'm not. Heck, grumpiness means that I haven't quit. Being grumpy, as I see it, is a dissatisfaction that precludes surrender. It's believing there might be better, but not being able to lay hands to it immediately. I'll keep fumbling blindly in the world, until I can lay my hands to it. Light a candle rather than curse the dark, you say? Yeah, well, where are the fucking matches! Urhm, yeah, trying to help, I know. But you aren't helping. I know what to do, just can't do it. Later.
.
But slept long and well. I almost feel that an alley, around an upcoming corner, might get me out of my own little slice of hell. If not this next one, the one after. I'll keep looking for a way off this River Styx that I seem to be stuck on. When taking out the trash and recycling end up being too being too big of a job to just do... forgetting is one thing, a different thing... then I know I am in trouble. It took four hours last night, and I was zapped when I was done. As well, with the thermostat set at 76, I was cold. Even though I was fully dressed and had warmed by taking a shower. Crazy. Then again, I have had worse.
I did realize I had an appointment coming up tomorrow. I was really pushing to keep my schedule in order, so that I could go in. But that failed. Waking, today, at 14:00, and hour after when my appointment is scheduled for tomorrow, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to turn back the clock. So I called and changed the date. That is an improvement. There were decades where if I became ill, I had zero chance of calling in, let alone even knowing an appointment was coming. I can't even imagine how many appointments I missed. I had no chance. It's a dental. As I said, I am very leery of going to a V.A., knowing Zero is pushing to have ebola patients shipped in. The V.A. is the one hospital system that is so political controlled that they could force doctors to treat such patients, and do it secretly. Not even all doctors, admin, or staff, would necessarily know or be told. Dental is off-campus, a bit, so it is probably safer.
Today? I don't know. I plan on breathing. Maybe eating. I might go get the barrels from the curb. Well, you asked. That is probably it today. Long days, in my condition, beat the crap out of me. And I don't have much poop to start. So... I'll recover, I guess. I might grump, too. No, no might about it. *f'ing grump!* Oh, but I suppose I can do some research. There are a few things I wanted to check, a few new things I want to know, and... just... well... things. While I won't even plan a day, I will plan for a time when I can plan. I don't get to die so I won't just quit. Dang rules! Yeah, but there... can be some humor in it.
Oh, don't be morose about it. I'm not. Heck, grumpiness means that I haven't quit. Being grumpy, as I see it, is a dissatisfaction that precludes surrender. It's believing there might be better, but not being able to lay hands to it immediately. I'll keep fumbling blindly in the world, until I can lay my hands to it. Light a candle rather than curse the dark, you say? Yeah, well, where are the fucking matches! Urhm, yeah, trying to help, I know. But you aren't helping. I know what to do, just can't do it. Later.
Done, mostly.
.
.
It's no fun to want to sleep, to need to go to bed, but to have a chore hanging over my head. That with a body that just can't focus or work. Four hours is what it took, and I couldn't even deal with the cardboard, any of it. I had to surrender to the fact that if I held out for that I wouldn't get anything done. Surrender is not easy. Cutting losses, even as seemingly small as this is tough. I suppose my efforts are small, but as with the widow's mite, it's all I've got. I put out everything I had just to do the measly little bit I did. Now, at least, I can go to bed.
It hurts, I am sore, I am weakened by the effort, I am wearied because of staying up. I am worried about my schedule. As with the cardboard, I suppose I will simply have to cut my losses. Surrender, again. Bleh. Good night.
.
It's no fun to want to sleep, to need to go to bed, but to have a chore hanging over my head. That with a body that just can't focus or work. Four hours is what it took, and I couldn't even deal with the cardboard, any of it. I had to surrender to the fact that if I held out for that I wouldn't get anything done. Surrender is not easy. Cutting losses, even as seemingly small as this is tough. I suppose my efforts are small, but as with the widow's mite, it's all I've got. I put out everything I had just to do the measly little bit I did. Now, at least, I can go to bed.
It hurts, I am sore, I am weakened by the effort, I am wearied because of staying up. I am worried about my schedule. As with the cardboard, I suppose I will simply have to cut my losses. Surrender, again. Bleh. Good night.
I made it to bed.
.
.
Couldn't sleep. I need to get the trash and recycling collected and out. It just sat there, on my mind. And yet I cannot seem to just do it. Not in one fell swoop. I've collected from in here and the living room, mostly. I've pulled the trash. I need to add some of the bags of leaves as well. I also need to, after seeing how much room in the recycling, figure out how many of the torn-down box cardboard I can fit in. If there is extra room, I would like to tear down more boxes. I'm simply having trouble. I can't sleep but I can't seem to work. Bits and pieces. I made a cup of coffee, and another pot of coffee. It's just one of those nights.
I simply can't pull myself together. Nothing is working, save my mind to a minor degree. I suppose, until I can get to the trash and recycling again, I might as well find out more about those books I purchased. I am hungry for good plain reading fun, even if it moves along at a snails pace. And I'd like to see if those who have suggested the authors are good are setting me right.
Oh, I also started digging into alternative treatments for CHF. I found a number of them that I was not familiar with, did a bit of research, and put them in my basket at Amazon. Look, what I am doing is okay. But it's not quite pushing things as well as I had hoped. And I have reached the end of the line as to increasing the dosages. Simply, the medicine at higher doses is as bad as the condition, sometimes worse. More so when I struggle to get back on them, or fall off them. Messy. So, I figure, if they can't do it, perhaps I can. Or at least, perhaps, I can add to what they offer.
On the good side, my neighbor didn't see a problem. Then again, as I suggested, while I did fall, it wasn't a complete fall. Gosh, I hope I am not, somehow, still falling... just waiting to hit bottom! I shouldn't think like that. I really shouldn't. Horror doesn't terrify me, this thought does. You probably have never hit this kind of health bottom, the kind that now worries me. I have. Won't kill me but it sure is tough to escape. Never mind... just night terrors and grumbling. Later, or good night.
.
Couldn't sleep. I need to get the trash and recycling collected and out. It just sat there, on my mind. And yet I cannot seem to just do it. Not in one fell swoop. I've collected from in here and the living room, mostly. I've pulled the trash. I need to add some of the bags of leaves as well. I also need to, after seeing how much room in the recycling, figure out how many of the torn-down box cardboard I can fit in. If there is extra room, I would like to tear down more boxes. I'm simply having trouble. I can't sleep but I can't seem to work. Bits and pieces. I made a cup of coffee, and another pot of coffee. It's just one of those nights.
I simply can't pull myself together. Nothing is working, save my mind to a minor degree. I suppose, until I can get to the trash and recycling again, I might as well find out more about those books I purchased. I am hungry for good plain reading fun, even if it moves along at a snails pace. And I'd like to see if those who have suggested the authors are good are setting me right.
Oh, I also started digging into alternative treatments for CHF. I found a number of them that I was not familiar with, did a bit of research, and put them in my basket at Amazon. Look, what I am doing is okay. But it's not quite pushing things as well as I had hoped. And I have reached the end of the line as to increasing the dosages. Simply, the medicine at higher doses is as bad as the condition, sometimes worse. More so when I struggle to get back on them, or fall off them. Messy. So, I figure, if they can't do it, perhaps I can. Or at least, perhaps, I can add to what they offer.
On the good side, my neighbor didn't see a problem. Then again, as I suggested, while I did fall, it wasn't a complete fall. Gosh, I hope I am not, somehow, still falling... just waiting to hit bottom! I shouldn't think like that. I really shouldn't. Horror doesn't terrify me, this thought does. You probably have never hit this kind of health bottom, the kind that now worries me. I have. Won't kill me but it sure is tough to escape. Never mind... just night terrors and grumbling. Later, or good night.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Mastery.
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.
From several dreams, some notions, a few questions, a conversation or two, the notion of becoming a master has been taxing my quiet and conversive mind. What is mastery. What are the purposes for it. What are the limits. Who really knows. The best I have been able to do is consider a proposition, do my best with it, move on, and perhaps over time return to it. As with paint, regardless of whether the color is appreciated or correct for the project, correctness may or may not follow. But the hue will become more sure with each layer.
There are the obvious reasons to attain mastery, and increase that mastery. The purely functional level is what most immediately recognize. To master basket ball or home repair is to find utility and perhaps economy. To know of history, intimately and as correctly as possible, is to find an audience who appreciates someone who can stitch a form of reason, or nature perhaps more truly, to ourselves as groups, nations, religions, or such. Each mastery comes with a cost and a benefit. Mere survival, in some cases. While I say "mere", the truth is, as humble as that may seem to those in ivory towers, surviving is often better than the option, even in a purely utilitarian manner. It doesn't stop there, of course. Mastery has some clear and simple reasoning. It also has more.
As I am learning to live again, I am finding that mastery of some simple domestic chores, such as cooking, has more to it than pure utility. As I master this art, in various forms, I find that beyond simply being able to repeat a course, or complete meal, so that one meal is as another, and all such meals are more than just functional, but pleasurable, I see that there is still more. As I learn to cook a particular food, I also learn how to clean up while I work, how to shop for that meal, and how to do other things that make the whole process much more efficient. This helps no one but me, even if I happen to feed an army with the meal. There is a satisfaction, beyond the meal, of being competent, clean, neat, and time sensitive.
So it goes with many things. None can be an island. Even should I learn to cook, clean, prep, and shop, so that a meal is accurate, precise, timely, leaving a clean kitchen, I must depend upon my grocer, the butcher, and a host of others for short or long term needs and wants to fulfill my mastery. Oh, no real point, just counting mental pennies as my day comes to a close. Thinking, or writing what I think, out loud. Psychic doodling. It is what I have on such a day. Good night.
.
Oh, books. Well, ebooks.
.
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I, finally, finished The Irrational Atheist. No fault of the book. Concentration simply sucks lately. As it turns out, only about an half of the book is in direct rebuttal to the "atheist" authors, whom I won't deign to mention. Not because they are self-proclaimed atheists, but because their works have been proven to be less than worthy of consideration. They were from the start, it's just now I have the key-code. There was a great deal to consider. And I don't always agree with the thrust, if more that I think a parry would work better, or the reverse. Still, the book is quite sound. And, when you find your strength in your faith strong enough, and learn your own skills, there will be some difference in the approach to any potential dilemma. All good, fair sport, spit in your eye. :p Loved the book.
I could reread it. And, if I live long enough I probably will. Next time, however, it is hoped that more immediate notes will be taken. I do have a few notes, and a few things to check. Actually, if I will be in the company of so-called atheists, I will probably reread the book. A refresher course. The author does a fine job of explaining the jibbery-jabber that atheists often use as a shit-test screen. And what they mean by it. He can't cover everything, but he does delineate their approach. Sort of like a book on wood carving can't describe every shape, but to an experienced carver, on a new form of wood, he can offer enough that the other shapes make sense when things are in hand.
No, another book will be read. I pulled down a number of books, per request, in support of a retaking of sci-fi from the queer lover of werebores and negro unicorn crowd. No, if you like politically correct, leftist preaching... fantasy... by all means, knock yourself out. But that isn't science fiction. Science fiction, really, is potential science based futures, or the past, rolled into, usually, a warning about the misuses and mistakes and danger... plus the potential thrills, of things to come. Many of the originals, if not always in their lifetime, have been seen to be very prescient. And, the fantasy I prefer, is a fantasy that could have been real and sometimes more. But the more has to parallel reality enough to be conceivable, if not fully believable. Quite a trick, a feet political propagandists have never been able to accomplish. So, as these notions are being returned to print, I will support them. Hopefully I will read them. The thing is, I hate jumping into the middle of a series. I am not sure the books I purchased are standalone, or in series, so need to do a bit of research before delving in. These things take time.
I'll have to, when I can wrap my wits around a proper review, post a final review on Amazon. A good read needs to be advanced. Reviews do that. Perhaps my foolish attempts at praise might even get one other to read the book. You never know. If you can help one person find the reason to stick with their faith, it is worth the effort. As long as they don't try to make me write books, we are good that way. So... a review... when I get to it. A wizard is never late. He arrives neither too early or too late, but is always precisely on time. Give or take.
Oh... a shower. Love those things. Now that I am up to at least those, I will do them. Yum! Later.
Oh, and should you ever need to save time, and needling is required while no one else is there to do your dirtywork, I leave you with information to help. Of course, there are staplers. But... I like the old school way, or at least most likely would be required to do it in the old school way. Just how things work out.
.
I, finally, finished The Irrational Atheist. No fault of the book. Concentration simply sucks lately. As it turns out, only about an half of the book is in direct rebuttal to the "atheist" authors, whom I won't deign to mention. Not because they are self-proclaimed atheists, but because their works have been proven to be less than worthy of consideration. They were from the start, it's just now I have the key-code. There was a great deal to consider. And I don't always agree with the thrust, if more that I think a parry would work better, or the reverse. Still, the book is quite sound. And, when you find your strength in your faith strong enough, and learn your own skills, there will be some difference in the approach to any potential dilemma. All good, fair sport, spit in your eye. :p Loved the book.
I could reread it. And, if I live long enough I probably will. Next time, however, it is hoped that more immediate notes will be taken. I do have a few notes, and a few things to check. Actually, if I will be in the company of so-called atheists, I will probably reread the book. A refresher course. The author does a fine job of explaining the jibbery-jabber that atheists often use as a shit-test screen. And what they mean by it. He can't cover everything, but he does delineate their approach. Sort of like a book on wood carving can't describe every shape, but to an experienced carver, on a new form of wood, he can offer enough that the other shapes make sense when things are in hand.
No, another book will be read. I pulled down a number of books, per request, in support of a retaking of sci-fi from the queer lover of werebores and negro unicorn crowd. No, if you like politically correct, leftist preaching... fantasy... by all means, knock yourself out. But that isn't science fiction. Science fiction, really, is potential science based futures, or the past, rolled into, usually, a warning about the misuses and mistakes and danger... plus the potential thrills, of things to come. Many of the originals, if not always in their lifetime, have been seen to be very prescient. And, the fantasy I prefer, is a fantasy that could have been real and sometimes more. But the more has to parallel reality enough to be conceivable, if not fully believable. Quite a trick, a feet political propagandists have never been able to accomplish. So, as these notions are being returned to print, I will support them. Hopefully I will read them. The thing is, I hate jumping into the middle of a series. I am not sure the books I purchased are standalone, or in series, so need to do a bit of research before delving in. These things take time.
I'll have to, when I can wrap my wits around a proper review, post a final review on Amazon. A good read needs to be advanced. Reviews do that. Perhaps my foolish attempts at praise might even get one other to read the book. You never know. If you can help one person find the reason to stick with their faith, it is worth the effort. As long as they don't try to make me write books, we are good that way. So... a review... when I get to it. A wizard is never late. He arrives neither too early or too late, but is always precisely on time. Give or take.
Oh... a shower. Love those things. Now that I am up to at least those, I will do them. Yum! Later.
Oh, and should you ever need to save time, and needling is required while no one else is there to do your dirtywork, I leave you with information to help. Of course, there are staplers. But... I like the old school way, or at least most likely would be required to do it in the old school way. Just how things work out.
Breakfast was about as good as it gets.
.
.
I skipped toast. Ham, eggs, and hashbrowns were cooked and eaten. It is light enough that dinner is possible. I'm really liking the non-stick pan. It's not so great for omelets, too small. I'll have to get a larger one, and I will probably go with All-Clad. There are cheaper pans out there, that will work, but knowing which one is as lasting is difficult. The design, after a little experience, is easy to see. The pan I have now will work for eggs almost anyway I want to do them, but has the wrong sort of lip and non-stick surface for pan flipping. Flipping food in the pan isn't just for looks or kicks. It speeds things up and there are a few other reasons.
Still a bit sore. Still a bit rough. Still not much going. I can't really complain. That was a serious hit. I am not actually worried about dying, for a number of reasons. First, I am not going to die for a long time. Still, I cover my bases. I've been wrong before. Still, on this, I am almost absolutely certain that without outside... help... I'm not going to die. Next, I'm not that lucky. While I do believe I deserve death, both on the bad side of that notion, and the good, it isn't mine to obtain until what I am here to do is done. It's just the way of it. Yes, I'll be whining, in some form or another, for decades. Put me in your calendar. Finally, I think, in the short and temporary, it's about suffering. I thrive on the shit. In a way, my body has internally taken over my old notions of pushing things to the limits. I live on the limit, and beyond. I thrive on what hurts, or kills. Well, I've got it. It feeds me, now that I see the condition rightly.
I'll try, again, to do some things. Load the trash and recycling out. Take a shower. I've already eaten once, but might try to do so again. I might even take some pain pills, after nearly a week without. Just enough to possible take the edge off, and maybe see me to more than what I suggest. Or at least to what I have put on the schedule. Don't know, can't really care, there isn't enough... enough... to do more than plot and hope. All good. Later.
.
I skipped toast. Ham, eggs, and hashbrowns were cooked and eaten. It is light enough that dinner is possible. I'm really liking the non-stick pan. It's not so great for omelets, too small. I'll have to get a larger one, and I will probably go with All-Clad. There are cheaper pans out there, that will work, but knowing which one is as lasting is difficult. The design, after a little experience, is easy to see. The pan I have now will work for eggs almost anyway I want to do them, but has the wrong sort of lip and non-stick surface for pan flipping. Flipping food in the pan isn't just for looks or kicks. It speeds things up and there are a few other reasons.
Still a bit sore. Still a bit rough. Still not much going. I can't really complain. That was a serious hit. I am not actually worried about dying, for a number of reasons. First, I am not going to die for a long time. Still, I cover my bases. I've been wrong before. Still, on this, I am almost absolutely certain that without outside... help... I'm not going to die. Next, I'm not that lucky. While I do believe I deserve death, both on the bad side of that notion, and the good, it isn't mine to obtain until what I am here to do is done. It's just the way of it. Yes, I'll be whining, in some form or another, for decades. Put me in your calendar. Finally, I think, in the short and temporary, it's about suffering. I thrive on the shit. In a way, my body has internally taken over my old notions of pushing things to the limits. I live on the limit, and beyond. I thrive on what hurts, or kills. Well, I've got it. It feeds me, now that I see the condition rightly.
I'll try, again, to do some things. Load the trash and recycling out. Take a shower. I've already eaten once, but might try to do so again. I might even take some pain pills, after nearly a week without. Just enough to possible take the edge off, and maybe see me to more than what I suggest. Or at least to what I have put on the schedule. Don't know, can't really care, there isn't enough... enough... to do more than plot and hope. All good. Later.
Finally, awake again.
.
.
Sleep, as can be expected, is all over the map. Too late, tough to manage, just the way of it. I don't roll in the mud just for my leisure, mind you. When you find yourself, literally or virtually, on your back, the first thing you have to do is move limbs and body, as you can, in your efforts to rise. The longer you are down, the messier it gets. Until, at some point, you are mudwrestling without an opponent. So it goes. Sleep is one of those areas. I'll figure it out before too long.
Sleep was quite good. I let the girls in, again. They do help me wake, if some mornings are tough that way. I don't always appreciate the help, not in the moment. Not even, for a while, some mornings, when it was a tough ride. Not for a bit anyway. Later on I begin to be thankful. Usually, though, I appreciate their kindness *cough* right away. Their kindness, mind you, comes straight from their bellies. "Feed me!", I can almost hear through imperceptible rumblings from their stomachs. Still, take what you can get. I'll be done with my grudge on that score before too long.
Last night I realized I had no meat left. I did have a few potatoes, two onion halves, and the cooking juice. So... gravy and potatoes. The gravy was perfect. You know that thick stuff they put on breakfast meals? Only beef, not pork, flavored. Thick, good flavor, and rich. Beside the fat of the beef, there was butter and whole cream. A little baking powder (though corn starch works too), flour, and some heat. Whisk while heating until the whisk won't. Nice. There is nothing like a good gravy to go along with potatoes. Oh, and sour cream on that. Not that lowfat crap, either. If you are going to eat, eat right.
Women have been on my mind lately. I'm not sure why. This has been a more general thing. I keep trying to figure out why, for being so annoying they are so desired. It isn't just, or even mostly, their flesh. Actually, I have decided, it is their flesh that brings them to being desirable, but as beings. Femininity is the spice that makes the dish suitably desirable. As well as frustrating. It leads them to be where they are so that I can appreciate them. It's difficult to express this, as it's a thin cut on logic. A slice between. Truly nuanced. It isn't because of what they are, but what they are causes the interest. Never mind, I'm not even awake yet. And, I doubt if I will ever completely square that circle. I do, however, greatly enjoy the effort. Crazy cats, can't quite get away from them.
Ah, on to something. I thawed meats for the week. I have ham thawed, and thought eggs would go well with that, and hashbrowns. Hmm, and toast, too, actually. I figured out, at least probably, what is wrong with the hashbrowns I made. It seems you need to grate them raw, then soak them to remove the starch. The starch, from my tasting so far, does seem to be an easy causative for the lack of good browning and muddy taste and texture. Oh, I'll finish what I have made, then see if making them from raw potatoes, and leeching the starch out, really clears up the problem. A home isn't just a place to learn repair, upgrade, update, and maintenance mojo. It is a fun place to do culinary experiments. Some things I take hints about, other things I just begin, and figure out along the way. Home is good for more than just living... or dying, sometimes.
On to... waking up and then a bit of breakfast. Where is my COFFEE? Oh, right. Cats aren't all that trainable. Never mind. Later.
.
Sleep, as can be expected, is all over the map. Too late, tough to manage, just the way of it. I don't roll in the mud just for my leisure, mind you. When you find yourself, literally or virtually, on your back, the first thing you have to do is move limbs and body, as you can, in your efforts to rise. The longer you are down, the messier it gets. Until, at some point, you are mudwrestling without an opponent. So it goes. Sleep is one of those areas. I'll figure it out before too long.
Sleep was quite good. I let the girls in, again. They do help me wake, if some mornings are tough that way. I don't always appreciate the help, not in the moment. Not even, for a while, some mornings, when it was a tough ride. Not for a bit anyway. Later on I begin to be thankful. Usually, though, I appreciate their kindness *cough* right away. Their kindness, mind you, comes straight from their bellies. "Feed me!", I can almost hear through imperceptible rumblings from their stomachs. Still, take what you can get. I'll be done with my grudge on that score before too long.
Last night I realized I had no meat left. I did have a few potatoes, two onion halves, and the cooking juice. So... gravy and potatoes. The gravy was perfect. You know that thick stuff they put on breakfast meals? Only beef, not pork, flavored. Thick, good flavor, and rich. Beside the fat of the beef, there was butter and whole cream. A little baking powder (though corn starch works too), flour, and some heat. Whisk while heating until the whisk won't. Nice. There is nothing like a good gravy to go along with potatoes. Oh, and sour cream on that. Not that lowfat crap, either. If you are going to eat, eat right.
Women have been on my mind lately. I'm not sure why. This has been a more general thing. I keep trying to figure out why, for being so annoying they are so desired. It isn't just, or even mostly, their flesh. Actually, I have decided, it is their flesh that brings them to being desirable, but as beings. Femininity is the spice that makes the dish suitably desirable. As well as frustrating. It leads them to be where they are so that I can appreciate them. It's difficult to express this, as it's a thin cut on logic. A slice between. Truly nuanced. It isn't because of what they are, but what they are causes the interest. Never mind, I'm not even awake yet. And, I doubt if I will ever completely square that circle. I do, however, greatly enjoy the effort. Crazy cats, can't quite get away from them.
Ah, on to something. I thawed meats for the week. I have ham thawed, and thought eggs would go well with that, and hashbrowns. Hmm, and toast, too, actually. I figured out, at least probably, what is wrong with the hashbrowns I made. It seems you need to grate them raw, then soak them to remove the starch. The starch, from my tasting so far, does seem to be an easy causative for the lack of good browning and muddy taste and texture. Oh, I'll finish what I have made, then see if making them from raw potatoes, and leeching the starch out, really clears up the problem. A home isn't just a place to learn repair, upgrade, update, and maintenance mojo. It is a fun place to do culinary experiments. Some things I take hints about, other things I just begin, and figure out along the way. Home is good for more than just living... or dying, sometimes.
On to... waking up and then a bit of breakfast. Where is my COFFEE? Oh, right. Cats aren't all that trainable. Never mind. Later.
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