Short but exceptional.

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Sleep that is.  You can't enjoy sleep until you get poor sleep with no rest from it, and for a while.  With as dysfunctional as I have been for so long, I am surprised I am able to find good rest.  Part of why is that I no longer judge or attempt to drive myself so harshly.  What did Cohen say in a later interview?  Something about no longer having an internal voice screaming at him that he is fucking up?  Right, right.  I gave that voice to the only one who has a right to it, and He doesn't need it or use it.

I must admit, I thought I would be dead by now, this time.  I have sat for months.  All attempts to get to work end up nought.  Or worse, as with dishes, blocking up my access to the shower.  I would die to have a shower, but there is a heretofore insurmountable mountain of effort in the way.

I look at it, I reset it, I...  today?  Always a hope.  I look around me.  I want it fixed.  With help, but not alone.  Stuck in my head, able to see but not do.  I went without games, hoping that would force the issue.  I just slept more.  So I found games.  Though for a while, I couldn't play games either... months?  They produce more drive, but not of body.  At least there is entertainment and vestiges of action, activity, function, when I can play.  It offers... something.

Perhaps as medicine normalizes, I can dig back in?  Will see soon.

Been without insulin for a while.  Blood sugar is 154 fasting?  Okay.  I will check it after a fatted tea.  Curious now.  That is nearly as good as it gets with long-acting insulin provided.  Fast acting alone too, sometimes.  Quite strange.  With that idea, I set a fresh pot of tea to brew.  Such a very strange world.  But in God's hands, even as a failure, it isn't a bad one.  Some people in it, but that isn't my problem even when it is.  Mostly.

You do terrify.

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Some of you don't know, but there is at least one among you who knows what I post as I write it.  I suspect several.  How?  Tech isn't my field, sight is.  Pattern recognition, the human, other two-legs, as well as a few other things are my areas.  Although I am pretty sure the watchers don't realize I know, or forgot I do have real sight.

Proof?  Someone just visited this post, a day before publishing this post.

But that isn't what terrifies.  A real or imagined beautiful body, mind, or soul will often find covetous eyes upon it.  Creepy as that is, it is no surprise.  It is your responses.  Some of you get far too much, or understand in ways which can undo me.  Even those with only kindness in your intent.  Those who hate, I... merely commiserate.  I... understand.  Save those who can and do harm.  You are wrong, and know it.  Even just in your hate, but to act on hate is... google.  For they no longer pretend to try not to be.

It is because of the harm those who hate are inflicting that I am going.  Mostly bureaucrats from what I can tell, at the federal level.  Still, they aren't the truly frightening.  I can see it in the pops... the music, humor, sadness, perhaps joy?  I... I think so.

The final public post approaches.

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Mostly the betrayal of a foggy mind or it would be done, or out there anyway.  I intended to write the notice, give it time, put out the first post, give it a few days, then put out the last post and give it several days.  Several things, actually, are proving problematic.  The timing is only slightly elongated due to confusion.  But my need to post, and some trepidation about whether to post, after creating the "last two" music posts at all... I just wasn't sure.  Pops, so many.  They were from y'all.  Still...

Once I pulled the trigger, the mind has become foggier as time has slipped my grasp.  The "last of the two music posts" should be popping soon.  Today or tomorrow.  Blogger has me on a foreign timestamp and server.  It is banished, with no way to get a correct timestamp.  Which probably means most people couldn't find it.  Anyway, that means no matter my input, I never know when something I post and queue will actually post.

A few days after, I will figure out how to cut the feed... to most of you.  The "last post" will explain that.

Another good sleep, if a bit shy.  Warm.  And I didn't keep waking to see if I was too cold.  Sam insisted I wake.  She never wakes me unfairly, so... rather than be a putz, I woke.  I probably fed them only once two days in a row?  I don't think so...  Hmm, litter?  Ah, that might be it.  I'll figure it soon.  I turned the furnace up and set an alarm.

Now for meds.  Perhaps eggs?  If they are good.  Oh, but dishes and the stove need hit first!  Ugh.  Later.

Perfect sleep.

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As close to perfection as I have had in some time.  So exceptional I slept longer than needed, something I don't like to do.  I often sleep many hours, or too few.  But when I wake, usually I not only want to get up, I have to rouse.  This was an exception, a rare one.

I reset blankets and the bedspread, settled in, then drifted swiftly to sleep.  Occasionally I would send feelers out, while maintaining sleep, to make sure my body wasn't too cold, or too hot.  It was always within tolerances.  With an inner smile, I would drift back to the unconscious nether.

I woke, officially, at 3:30 or so.  But wanted more, perhaps needed after having to fight for sleep the last few nights.  At least now, if needed or wanted, I can take a bit more time.  While the modern world demands a daily schedule, I don't... think that is natural.  When you drive men like animals, you do end up with bad behavior.  Well, and it leaves some behind.  Most.

Truth is, in almost any other time, if I hadn't been worked to death, I would have been left to die, one way or another.  Then, again, I actually should have failed, living on my own.  I often fall off medicine.  I rarely eat well.  It... even the cold could get me.  So many ways to die, and, yet, I remain.  Just enough food, medicine, heating or cooling, etc.  But just enough.  I wonder if getting as much as I seem to want would be lethal?  As if, to a degree, it matters.

Ducks and cats need fed.  Hopefully dishes and a shower soon.  Ugh.

Almost another cold night.

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This time I didn't let sleep or weariness keep me down.  Twice I woke to being down to one blanket.  Each time so very cold.  I shook myself awake and aware enough to set the blankets right.  The second time I checked more carefully, perhaps even using a flashlight to see... can't remember.  They definitely weren't just folded or kicked off.  Three were removed into separate piles.

I set the bed up correctly at bedtime.  I thought it right, from the start, but something was off so I redid my bed.  So... each blanket removed, set out in a true layering, then some tucked so as to make a partial sleeping bag.  That was somehow dismantled, twice, last night.  After the second time it remained whole.  I had to fight for it, but got a mostly toasty sleep for it.  My body feels a bit more rested, less sore... achy.

A struggle, but a good omen for the new year?  I didn't quite make it to midnight.  I definitely tried.  I was about fifteen minutes away.  I just couldn't even sit correctly, and my eyes were on fire.  My body and it's parts were in full revolt.  Absolutely no choice.  Oh, it was fun to try.

I felt awful most of yesterday.  I was wondering if blood pressure was horrible.  Nope, it was 135/95 with a pulse of 78.  Blood sugar?  At 158 without insulin, not bad.  So... no.  It must just be medicine.  Organs don't feel good, flu type symptoms... light.  But it isn't the flu.  Hmm, even the heart was uncomfortable, as if pumping was a struggle.  It was... tired?  Sore from that too.  Better this morning, so far.  And no problems beyond blanket stealing entities and occasional cold through the night.

Well... hopefully work today.  Dishes and laundry.  Uhrm, after waking and tea or coffee.  Much better to sleep warm, even a bit too warm, than otherwise.

Two final posts?

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Video posts, anyway.  Videos started popping.  Most new, a few old...  Why?  I decided to create two posts to break them up, as a gift, or bane, to my compatriots, sympathizers, and haters.  I suspect it was a bit from each of you... what created the froth.  Still, I am done.  I will not comment.  Every one of these popped since I retired.

Ducks, cats, and pork.

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To each their own.  To cats and ducks, from the pig.  A pork shoulder roast with buttered cabbage and raw whole milk.  It isn't bacon.  As my tastes are now, it is better.  Too much bacon is sugared, some is over smoked, some seems too thin or maybe rancid.  Price is no guarantee.  Actually spendy and cheap stuff have more in common than either with the middle.  I was enjoying odds and ends until rancidity became the norm.  The garbage bin has been pulled back while out.

Anyway.  Fed, all of us.  The furnace is going.  It was set to 72° as a starter.  If I take a nap shortly, begin working, or two hours slip by, I'll turn it down to 68°.  It is just good to warm, well, in the mornings.  Especially having been cold most of the night.  And it was strangely cold out there.  I believe it was eight, but frost was hanging off everything.  A bit of precip or humidity, whichever with wind heading westerly with a slightly northern tick.  A strange pattern.  That would have added to last night but not explained the blankets.

Never mind.  I am hoping to work, but food after extended accidental fasting is burning my dance card, and my love, doing dishes, is looking heavy in my arms.  Even sitting, but definitely gaming, are heavier still.  I'd still like to push to nine or ten.  It will help make it a nap, not a true failure to wake.  It increases the chance to gain and keep the day.  Legs hurt, from the cold last night.

Bleh.  Later.

A few more posts until I can figure.

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I will continue to blog.  Therapy, habit... addiction?  Perhaps with no visitors, it will fade.  Or it will become more... legitimate.  Without having to worry about the obvious sensitivities of others, prejudices even if correct, I can just write.  Oh, hey, I completely empathize.  As a crippled man knows better than to think he is normal, I know, and every flaw and blemish is plain before one called to God.  Good God, I refuse to accept broken, wrong, fallen, as acceptable.  I... just am.  Everyone is, most simply don't explore it.  Well, and volume and depth?

I will, as soon as fog lifts, figure out privacy settings.  There are people I would allow, if I knew how.  But that would take digging into the guts of the digital beast, plus trial and error.  I'm not doing well.  Just finding the privacy setting is proving a challenge.  I had created a few posts from the flood of vids that poured in since my announcement.  I cancelled them.  I may put them back in the queue?  Anyway...  Back to regularly scheduled programming, for now.
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Rough.  Meds are doing well, save insulin.  I am out.  Days are back in session, so I will call in.  I am low on everything but should have a week or two of the pill medicine.  I can't make sense of the automatic system... too many doctors, prescriptions, long numbers, dates.  They ask too much from at least this one.  One, three, hoops too many.

Blood sugar is sub 200, but just.  Haven't been eating much.  Doing so little it doesn't matter.  The body hurts, sometimes intensely, but the fog cuts the volume to less than numb horror.  I don't bother with aspirin, it wouldn't touch the pain but might gift a bloody nose.  Life is like a crisp winter day with a fresh foot of snow and a very overcast sky.  Beautiful, quiet, alone, but deceptively dangerous.  Death is here, and patient.  I would know, it is... my game.  Was.

I don't know when I was to bed.  No later than 20:00?  Probably several hours earlier?  I kept waking cold, but shouldn't have been.  I finally opened the vent to the main room.  That keeps it five to ten degrees warmer, well into my optimal sleeping range, easily, with my bedding setup.  Couldn't figure it out, in part because sleep was so needed.  Not until three was I able to wake enough to consciously take stock.

Blankets were off, the top two layers.  An unusual thing.  I don't kick off, usually just putting feet out if too hot.  I know it was set rightly at bedtime, because I was cold.  Never did warm through the night.  Ghost?  Seriously, I... have visitors.  Not all are ghosts.  Not all are kind.  Though the dark ones... seem to fear me, much as how the cats carefully consider being willful in my presence.  Dunno.

Up at 5:00 to thirty after.  A lot of sleep.  Too much.  Perhaps because I never got warm?  The cold can take it out of me.  Did.

I did get most of the trash collected and out.  I had hoped to get more, but took what I could, when I could, how I could.  I think I got a friend in trouble, kin as I see it, with my predicament.  It wasn't his fault.  A man just has to tend his matters and I just wasn't as able to do so.  It... isn't even my fault.  It just happens.

I'll grab the barrel back, feed and water critters, sort cat litter, then plot.  Call for medicine, hopefully hit the dishes, then shower.  And maybe start in on the kitchen and boxes?  Oh, and start the grill for a pork roast.  I have steamed cabbage to go with it.  It's been so long since I've had a real meal.

It is about time to retire.

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From blogging.

The world has changed.  People have moved on, or off, or died.  Those who remain don't make sense.  Perhaps they never did.  Maybe I just didn't get it.  I had thought I did.  Sure don't now.  It is such a dark world.  Some of that might be reflections of age and illness.  Most of it is the reality of what is happening.

It will get gradually darker still.  There isn't a way around it.  If your nation is looking less and less familiar, if you don't recognize, or understand your neighbor, or preacher, teacher, or the new cop?  When every news channel looks the same and reports the same fake news?  When even white male politicians of one party, sometimes both, think the death of white males is a good thing... and still get elected?

There is nothing more to say.  I just hope there is time to Yoda out rather than living long enough to have to war just to live.  It's coming.  It was easily foretold.  Few realized it would be... this way, or with "our own" leading the destruction.  Insanity, evil, it is here?  Tibet was a small nation.  But the United States?  I guess, family by family, city by city, and state by state, the destruction was small, slow, yet sure.  Look to Virginia as a most recent example, though not the worst.  Or, not yet.

Good luck folks.  And good bye.

A shorter sleep?

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I think so.  To bed by 18:00, but sleep was elusive.  A good night for prayers.  Some suggest meandering prayers are to be avoided.  For children and the dying, sometimes that is all that is available.  To be honest, I would rather pray openly, honestly, faithfully, simply, while stumbling through rather than do a directed strike, in and out, asking for what I or even someone else needs or worse wants, then be on my way.

Even when short on time, I spend a bit of extra time giving thanks and praise, first.  He already knows what is being requested.  So should I die before finishing asking, He already Has it.  What He enjoys is having His chosen spend a little time with Him.  Well, that is how I see it.

Anyway.  I woke, finally, around 1:30.  I woke several times through the night.  Ice slipping on the roof, some other odd sounds never quite identified, or just because.  Sleep was good, but shorter, more difficult to obtain and maintain, blocky.  I keep thinking about work, too.

Upon waking, I started on dishes.  The tub is slow to drain, but I have things set up for as soon as that happens.  Perhaps a load of laundry, two if they are small yet today.  Wools and whites, the rest is pretty much done.  After dishes, a shower and shave.  Ducks will get watered, fed if needed.  The girls have already been fed, but litter needs sorted.  Ugh.

If I can move on dishes and shower, I can get back to the list, kitchen and boxes.  Perhaps some business affairs I am sorely behind regarding, and... maybe some sort of winter outing.  Bundling as needed and a short walk?  I don't know, but I really want to go do something.  I love the winter, mountains, and getting out.  You would think me a hermit, a truth not a choice.  Later.