.
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How many of you have dealt with father-in-laws, or potential ones? Something I never thought about until I was visited by them last night. Four that I remember but I think there were others. Ever been chased off by a potential f-i-l? That's my point. For all of my problems I was not only not chased off... I was welcomed, encouraged. Even when I deserted, the hope was that I might... come back. It was as if they desperately hoped I would take their little girl home. Why? You can tell when a father wants that. He acts almost as giddy as she does, but in a manly way. He becomes furtive, secretive, you see... much... going through his mind. Again, why?
I had... forgotten these things until that dream let me see not just one incident, which is easy to set aside, ignore as delusion, denounce as a mischaracterization. But all of them, end on end, right in front of me... being able to compare and contrast? No, no doubts. Disturbing. Especially when seeing some things in these days.
I don't understand. I doubt if I can understand unless I become a father of a daughter as she approaches that age, the age of consent, of marriage. I can imagine, but only imagine, what goes through his mind, heart, even soul. Why would I receive... approval. They had to know of my history. Men know about other men, much like women know about other women, roughly. Women know a vamp, a tramp, and a hussy, when they see one. Men know a womanizer. Then again... I'm not sure what Desert Cat thought. But he is somewhat unique. This isn't quite his area. Still, if he were commenting here, now is a time I would be curious if he sensed anything.
I know, it's still Christmas. But the dreams, memories really, intense. Those fathers were like squirrels in a rush to store up before winter hit. They didn't want to get involved, to push, or pull, or block, or even encourage other than a very general allowance and otherwise hands off, just... watching... with some hope... It always scared the heck out of me. That much energy, pent up like that, in a man, can be extremely dangerous. I was a fighter, I know what that can present as. But it wasn't directed, exactly, at me. Like a ref at a wrestling match or something. Yeah, that's what it also brings to mind... highschool wrestling, not the fake crap. Odd how we forget things that terrify us? No, again, I didn't feel threatened by the fathers, just... didn't know what they were doing and had never seen men so... alive, involved... real. Save in prep for war, but as if among their brothers in arms.
Never mind. I don't even know what it all means, save that... I am seeing it again, if to a lesser degree. Might be the number. I have always targeted younger daughters in the family scheme. This one is the oldest. Perhaps fathers get more intense with the last of their daughters? Dunno, dunno. Spooky.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Oh, caught it!
.
.
I had turned off my phone's ability to check my email. After thinking some things over, I decided to change some passwords tonight. Ten minutes after doing so, my phone sends me a warning. Apparently, it is having trouble doing what I have done everything in my power to keep it from doing... checking my email. Now, the thing is, while it says it can't check my email, it hasn't been showing that it has been doing so. When I open up gmail, I have to refresh to see if there is any new email. So... who is getting the updates on my gmail account, if I am not? Damned little monsters.
After searching for any way to make it so gmail doesn't try to check, and failing, for now I have the device set to not accept anything. I doubt if that really works, it simply won't tell me what it is doing or trying to do. I am not sure I will continue to use gmail, on my phone, if I can't find a way to keep it from checking. It has as much to do with privacy as it does with control and battery usage. If I am going to mess with tech, I want to at least try to be in charge. Yeah, good luck, I hear you.
.
 |
| Old tech, much more advanced, in several areas, now. |
To a friend, for my part.
.
.
Well, I liked it too. I was a bit shy, at one time, and would have preferred to stay that way. It wasn't to be. Some part remained shy, innocent. I locked it away until it was time to try to release even that, but my way, or... the right way. Still, that wasn't my public lot. For some, it is all they knew.
.
Well, I liked it too. I was a bit shy, at one time, and would have preferred to stay that way. It wasn't to be. Some part remained shy, innocent. I locked it away until it was time to try to release even that, but my way, or... the right way. Still, that wasn't my public lot. For some, it is all they knew.
Friday, December 27, 2013
A bit of humor.
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.
It might be over the line for some of you, in some ways. I know I had to shake my head a time or two, albeit I have been at least as guilty. I take church, when I go, a bit more seriously though. I actually really enjoy church, if often I have no idea what is going on, what is next, where to find it, or how to do it. That part... is a strain. But I do stay focused. Still, I do know folk like him. I suppose, had I been younger to join, I might have gone through that phase there.
Added another, if not of religious notions... A little message, though, to some.
.
It might be over the line for some of you, in some ways. I know I had to shake my head a time or two, albeit I have been at least as guilty. I take church, when I go, a bit more seriously though. I actually really enjoy church, if often I have no idea what is going on, what is next, where to find it, or how to do it. That part... is a strain. But I do stay focused. Still, I do know folk like him. I suppose, had I been younger to join, I might have gone through that phase there.
Added another, if not of religious notions... A little message, though, to some.
Quinoa, part two.
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.
I finally did buy a very fine chinois. Now, I suppose I could have gone with a lesser device. The problem is, with less cost came less volume. My hands are like sausages. Oh, they don't look like it, oddly. They seem to be fine, for the size, delicate almost. I can hide a quarter with my thumb, for perspective. So, reaching in to mess with stuff in a small device is, well, either very uncomfortable, often untenable, sometimes simply impossible. The other thing about buying a fine enough device is that purer sauces may be made.
My goal for this year? More cooking. Using more humble foods, but not just living on rice cakes and sawdust, either. How can you make an inexpensive cut of meat, or even a vegetable or grain meal, better? Sauces! Cook shoeleather to a tender state, add the right sauce, and you would be surprised. The best sauces come from stocks. I don't prefer vegetable stocks, but chicken, beef, lamb, venison... basically any foul or stock yard critter can make for a superior stock, which makes for a super sauce, gravy, or such. And, once learned, sauces are among the easiest things to make, if there are many steps from stock to dish. But those steps are separated through time, and can be done, to a degree I don't functionally understand quite yet, in batches. I have much to learn. I have the rest of my life to learn and little else I can do.
Oh, but the thing is, the chinois I purchased is that it is perfect for washing the rind, or husk, or whatever is on quinoa. It does take a bit, but if you just play with it like a game, it seems to take no time at all. I must admit, I was a bit fearful. That first batch I made of it, long ago, was horrible. I can't remember what all was wrong, because I took a bite, maybe two or three to be sure, then spit it all out, tossed the remnants, and swore the stuff off as a no-go. Ignorance, is all.
I cooked it just as I do rice. Two and a half doses of water, let it get to a boil under a lid, lift the lid after it the water is boiling, let it get down to only a bit of water in the bottom, stirring occasionally throughout, then turning off the heat and letting it steam out the last of the moisture not being absorbed. As with my rice, I think I did this flawlessly. And the results were quite pleasing.
So, what does quinoa taste like? It is the oddest durned stuff I have ever eaten. It has a slight "green" taste to it. I'm thinking like a very mild green... turnip tops, mild spinach, you get the idea. But it has a bit of a crunch to it, like fried rice, or small bits of bean. It is the oddest looking grain, when cooked, as well. It looks like very tiny shrimp, or... fern tips without the green color. The type I purchased is tawny, even golden. A bit of butter (unnecessary all the time), a touch of salt to the finished product, and down the hatch with a whimsical smile as one of the first results. It is a satisfying meal. A complete protein, from a grain? Yes indeed. I may have to store some of that. It is spendy though, so I will need to look for deals on it. That said, it has the Doom seal of approval. I am going to have to see what all will work with it, including desserts perhaps.
My next taste treat for this (still) Christmas holiday? Well, beside duck? Clotted cream. I'll... let you know how that works out. Oh, I know, crazy stuff. Doom is a fool, but a curious, inventive, active one, when I can be.
Merry Christmas!
.
I finally did buy a very fine chinois. Now, I suppose I could have gone with a lesser device. The problem is, with less cost came less volume. My hands are like sausages. Oh, they don't look like it, oddly. They seem to be fine, for the size, delicate almost. I can hide a quarter with my thumb, for perspective. So, reaching in to mess with stuff in a small device is, well, either very uncomfortable, often untenable, sometimes simply impossible. The other thing about buying a fine enough device is that purer sauces may be made.
My goal for this year? More cooking. Using more humble foods, but not just living on rice cakes and sawdust, either. How can you make an inexpensive cut of meat, or even a vegetable or grain meal, better? Sauces! Cook shoeleather to a tender state, add the right sauce, and you would be surprised. The best sauces come from stocks. I don't prefer vegetable stocks, but chicken, beef, lamb, venison... basically any foul or stock yard critter can make for a superior stock, which makes for a super sauce, gravy, or such. And, once learned, sauces are among the easiest things to make, if there are many steps from stock to dish. But those steps are separated through time, and can be done, to a degree I don't functionally understand quite yet, in batches. I have much to learn. I have the rest of my life to learn and little else I can do.
Oh, but the thing is, the chinois I purchased is that it is perfect for washing the rind, or husk, or whatever is on quinoa. It does take a bit, but if you just play with it like a game, it seems to take no time at all. I must admit, I was a bit fearful. That first batch I made of it, long ago, was horrible. I can't remember what all was wrong, because I took a bite, maybe two or three to be sure, then spit it all out, tossed the remnants, and swore the stuff off as a no-go. Ignorance, is all.
I cooked it just as I do rice. Two and a half doses of water, let it get to a boil under a lid, lift the lid after it the water is boiling, let it get down to only a bit of water in the bottom, stirring occasionally throughout, then turning off the heat and letting it steam out the last of the moisture not being absorbed. As with my rice, I think I did this flawlessly. And the results were quite pleasing.
So, what does quinoa taste like? It is the oddest durned stuff I have ever eaten. It has a slight "green" taste to it. I'm thinking like a very mild green... turnip tops, mild spinach, you get the idea. But it has a bit of a crunch to it, like fried rice, or small bits of bean. It is the oddest looking grain, when cooked, as well. It looks like very tiny shrimp, or... fern tips without the green color. The type I purchased is tawny, even golden. A bit of butter (unnecessary all the time), a touch of salt to the finished product, and down the hatch with a whimsical smile as one of the first results. It is a satisfying meal. A complete protein, from a grain? Yes indeed. I may have to store some of that. It is spendy though, so I will need to look for deals on it. That said, it has the Doom seal of approval. I am going to have to see what all will work with it, including desserts perhaps.
My next taste treat for this (still) Christmas holiday? Well, beside duck? Clotted cream. I'll... let you know how that works out. Oh, I know, crazy stuff. Doom is a fool, but a curious, inventive, active one, when I can be.
Merry Christmas!
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Yes, yes, life is good.
.
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It is still, by my celebration method, still Christmas. Twelve days of celebration. Prayer, thought, music, joy, and feasting. I have consumed my beef roast. I will be thawing a duck next. I may even try to make duck stock. Really, save for a minor little spot of trouble, mostly from being weary of carrying specific water for those who don't understand, and a spot of the blues, this has been a post-card Christmas. The Spirit is here, even in the rough times, perhaps especially then with a little help from friends and family.
The miracle of Christ is a shared one. Men know part of it. We know of birth, and children, and watching them live and grow and learn. Directly or indirectly, when we have come to God I think we come to this also, even if from various distances. Just that He was born, and lived, is a part of the miracle that is missed. Ah, I have heard, but everybody was born, and lives or lived. Right? Well, no. Look at all of the mass of all of the worlds we know to be uninhabited. That, my friends, was not born and does not, has not, and will not live. Perspective. Miracles. The miracle goes on from there, but surely that was the start, the first part of it.
Oh, for your mental health's sake, yes, I am taking my medication rightly. I did miss a day or two, until two of you piped up. Thank you, by the way. And, for any of you who are angry with me? Rightly or mistakenly? You are quite welcome to pipe up! I wish to clear any wrong air. If I am wrong, I wish to clarify, apologize. If you misunderstood, I wish to set that right. Righteous anger is welcome here. At worst, we will learn some small differences. At best, we will learn to communicate better. I can't see a loss. I don't bite, not those who choose Wisdom. Not even those who don't, if I will bark. Barking and pain are warnings, not punishment, even so. I don't like to bite. I am very good at it, but it isn't the best of choices until it is the only choice.
Loverly! I am hoping to figure things out, and get to things, but I think... that will have to wait until I am titrated to full doses of medicine and that is settled. I will continue to try to get ahead. It probably won't work, quite yet. But it will save me from dropping too far behind. I see the doc sometime in January. Both of them actually? They will probably be taking me up to full dose, which... not matter what... is going to hurt. Just not as badly as when I was doing it, I think. Another bit of time to try to regain focus. Perhaps it is too deep into winter, with too little sun, for me to do a full recovery until spring. We will see. I am hoping to get enough going to begin seedlings again this year. But... I want to get them kicked off in January or February this year. They were simply too small last year, when I planted them. Learning, bit by bit.
Oh, good day and, again, Merry Christmas!
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It is still, by my celebration method, still Christmas. Twelve days of celebration. Prayer, thought, music, joy, and feasting. I have consumed my beef roast. I will be thawing a duck next. I may even try to make duck stock. Really, save for a minor little spot of trouble, mostly from being weary of carrying specific water for those who don't understand, and a spot of the blues, this has been a post-card Christmas. The Spirit is here, even in the rough times, perhaps especially then with a little help from friends and family.
The miracle of Christ is a shared one. Men know part of it. We know of birth, and children, and watching them live and grow and learn. Directly or indirectly, when we have come to God I think we come to this also, even if from various distances. Just that He was born, and lived, is a part of the miracle that is missed. Ah, I have heard, but everybody was born, and lives or lived. Right? Well, no. Look at all of the mass of all of the worlds we know to be uninhabited. That, my friends, was not born and does not, has not, and will not live. Perspective. Miracles. The miracle goes on from there, but surely that was the start, the first part of it.
Oh, for your mental health's sake, yes, I am taking my medication rightly. I did miss a day or two, until two of you piped up. Thank you, by the way. And, for any of you who are angry with me? Rightly or mistakenly? You are quite welcome to pipe up! I wish to clear any wrong air. If I am wrong, I wish to clarify, apologize. If you misunderstood, I wish to set that right. Righteous anger is welcome here. At worst, we will learn some small differences. At best, we will learn to communicate better. I can't see a loss. I don't bite, not those who choose Wisdom. Not even those who don't, if I will bark. Barking and pain are warnings, not punishment, even so. I don't like to bite. I am very good at it, but it isn't the best of choices until it is the only choice.
Loverly! I am hoping to figure things out, and get to things, but I think... that will have to wait until I am titrated to full doses of medicine and that is settled. I will continue to try to get ahead. It probably won't work, quite yet. But it will save me from dropping too far behind. I see the doc sometime in January. Both of them actually? They will probably be taking me up to full dose, which... not matter what... is going to hurt. Just not as badly as when I was doing it, I think. Another bit of time to try to regain focus. Perhaps it is too deep into winter, with too little sun, for me to do a full recovery until spring. We will see. I am hoping to get enough going to begin seedlings again this year. But... I want to get them kicked off in January or February this year. They were simply too small last year, when I planted them. Learning, bit by bit.
Oh, good day and, again, Merry Christmas!
Trying to keep private.
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Checking my email, something kept getting in my way. I decided to read before killing, this time. It was an offer to allow google to update my computer, to let me know when I have mail. Convenient? Possibly, if I received much email. Most email I receive is a blog comment notification. Even if I received a ton of mail, I would not allow google onto my machine any more than they already are. I don't allow my smart phone to access anything, or... that is the goal. If I want to check my email, I will. I also have one of the cameras covered, and am looking into ways to cover the other camera. I would create a sound kill-switch, too, for the mic, if I could. They aren't just "catching" your emails, or "recording your phone calls", they are peeping in. The only reason more of this hasn't come out is that it scares the crap out of everyone involved, on many fronts. It isn't just the government, either.
I may just go to a landphone and dump my cell. I'll keep the contract, but just for my mother's phone. I am trying to back out of everything, for now. I learned to keep my phone off, long ago. But that is not enough. I've noticed that, other than pulling the battery, the thing isn't dead. Further, even with airplane mode and some other things set, the monster drains batteries like a beast. It must have to work extra hard to get out my location information, and send mic and possibly photo data. Believe what you will, but it is listening, or... someone is. And tracking. Especially if you are all politically incorrect, think for yourself, don't buy what you are sold.
Just... some thoughts.
I didn't call my mother on Christmas. Not sure how I forgot that. Drifting... that's how. While I can write here, it is iffy and just when it happens. My brother sent a text message. I'm surprised my mother didn't try to call. But then, she is a woman, the matron of that family complex in her a.o., and was probably quite busy. And when she wasn't busy, she was busier. Working, talking, setting things up, taking them down, cleaning, and the like. But she loves it, I would not deny her. I can't really help her, sometimes other women do though. Hmm, yeah, maybe a call this morning.
I realized I was light on winter and vehicle prep. I never did order a tow strap, or jumper cables, so I have been looking. Online for now, but the next time I am in town, if I can, I will compare prices. I also need to get my kit put back together for the Xt'er. I like two sets of clothes, from socks to caps and all between, a bit of food, a heat source, tools should be in the vehicle separately but aren't anyway. I simply need to relock and reload. I took it all out for B-Man and haven't since been in shape to put it back. All good though. I should go through my gear at least twice a year, and often do, to change things up a bit and wash and change the clothes.
Well... later.
.
Checking my email, something kept getting in my way. I decided to read before killing, this time. It was an offer to allow google to update my computer, to let me know when I have mail. Convenient? Possibly, if I received much email. Most email I receive is a blog comment notification. Even if I received a ton of mail, I would not allow google onto my machine any more than they already are. I don't allow my smart phone to access anything, or... that is the goal. If I want to check my email, I will. I also have one of the cameras covered, and am looking into ways to cover the other camera. I would create a sound kill-switch, too, for the mic, if I could. They aren't just "catching" your emails, or "recording your phone calls", they are peeping in. The only reason more of this hasn't come out is that it scares the crap out of everyone involved, on many fronts. It isn't just the government, either.
I may just go to a landphone and dump my cell. I'll keep the contract, but just for my mother's phone. I am trying to back out of everything, for now. I learned to keep my phone off, long ago. But that is not enough. I've noticed that, other than pulling the battery, the thing isn't dead. Further, even with airplane mode and some other things set, the monster drains batteries like a beast. It must have to work extra hard to get out my location information, and send mic and possibly photo data. Believe what you will, but it is listening, or... someone is. And tracking. Especially if you are all politically incorrect, think for yourself, don't buy what you are sold.
Just... some thoughts.
I didn't call my mother on Christmas. Not sure how I forgot that. Drifting... that's how. While I can write here, it is iffy and just when it happens. My brother sent a text message. I'm surprised my mother didn't try to call. But then, she is a woman, the matron of that family complex in her a.o., and was probably quite busy. And when she wasn't busy, she was busier. Working, talking, setting things up, taking them down, cleaning, and the like. But she loves it, I would not deny her. I can't really help her, sometimes other women do though. Hmm, yeah, maybe a call this morning.
I realized I was light on winter and vehicle prep. I never did order a tow strap, or jumper cables, so I have been looking. Online for now, but the next time I am in town, if I can, I will compare prices. I also need to get my kit put back together for the Xt'er. I like two sets of clothes, from socks to caps and all between, a bit of food, a heat source, tools should be in the vehicle separately but aren't anyway. I simply need to relock and reload. I took it all out for B-Man and haven't since been in shape to put it back. All good though. I should go through my gear at least twice a year, and often do, to change things up a bit and wash and change the clothes.
Well... later.
Terrible story, but then it all fit.
.
.
A woman dies in her home, and before anyone who cared noticed, her home was burgled around her dead body. What she had of value, who knows. But return trips makes one think there might have been somethings of value. Things that should have gone to her family. Compton, California, eh?
How could that ever be brought to make sense? Ah, because I realized that the burglars were probably just low level Zerocare bureaucrats, getting practice in for when another shoe to drop from that boondoggle of a law. It seems, Zerocare will be doing the same thing. It is forcing elders who make too much money for medicaid, onto medicaid, up to a certain level of wealth. And then, it says the state can then strip mine the assets of those seniors. Further, below a certain income for seniors over 55, it forces them into medicaid, offering them no other option for medical coverage.
Yikes!
Okay, I said it made sense. I take that back. I meant, now it makes sense in an Obama world. Hell loves this "guy".
.
A woman dies in her home, and before anyone who cared noticed, her home was burgled around her dead body. What she had of value, who knows. But return trips makes one think there might have been somethings of value. Things that should have gone to her family. Compton, California, eh?
How could that ever be brought to make sense? Ah, because I realized that the burglars were probably just low level Zerocare bureaucrats, getting practice in for when another shoe to drop from that boondoggle of a law. It seems, Zerocare will be doing the same thing. It is forcing elders who make too much money for medicaid, onto medicaid, up to a certain level of wealth. And then, it says the state can then strip mine the assets of those seniors. Further, below a certain income for seniors over 55, it forces them into medicaid, offering them no other option for medical coverage.
Yikes!
Okay, I said it made sense. I take that back. I meant, now it makes sense in an Obama world. Hell loves this "guy".
Yelps.
.
.
Several, actually. Did I hear you grumble, too, Desert Cat? No, not calling you an interloper, it just seemed that one of the allowed had a bit of a fit. Might have been foam though. Or no one, you know how these notions work.
Whatever the case, I felt some one else, an interloper, about eat their tongue yelling at me for putting up something so horrible on Christmas. To which I reminded them a)it was Christmas eve and b)that they had broken into my mindspace on the eve of one of the most holy of my days. There is no cause for that, no matter if they think they are doing God's bidding, tending my health, protecting the nation, or whatever lame excuse they might provide. I don't know if they received my thoughtblast, but it was sent without any regrets. I won't back down from that now. Okay... later I felt something, but not sure if if was from the interloper... I suspect, but there are several sources that it could have come from. Actually, someone was tickling my feet. Yes, I am crazy. But, that doesn't mean it's not true. Not being sure if it was an attack, I sent "hungry, very hungry" back at them. Got tickled again, in several parts of my foot, and on my arm. Truly, a tickle, giggled did I! So sent "extra, extremely, hungry"... and as an extra, "horny", back at them. Tickling stopped. Might just be nerve damage from diabetes, but I've never felt anything like that without someone physically tickling my feet. Wasn't the cats, either.
Gah! I hope it wasn't my mom tickling my feet! How do I even think such things. Soap, toothbrush, eyeballs. *scrub, scrub, moan, scrub*
Oh, never mind. I just.... it's a diary, not necessarily the truth. Perceptions, thoughts, wonders, worries. Choose to believe as you wish. Even when I am sure about something, like being tickled of mind, I'm probably more in agreement that it isn't possible. A bastard in every way, neither this nor that, if actually possibly both, in truth. :p Tic-tac-toe. We win! And lose.
Crazy, baby. :) Later.
------------
Something foam wrote, in a comment, made me realize to write something. "I'm really too short to ride this ride. But, I stand on tippy toes and cheat and sometimes close my eyes." I did write something in a response comment. I decided to expand on that.
I know it seems terrible, here, at times. Darkness can crowd in, confusion can make things messy, and there I sit. And yet it isn't what it seems. No one was quite made for this ride. The difference is, if it gets too much, you get to close your eyes, duck out for a breath of fresh air, tinker or play or work. This ride is my life. I don't have a way out, closing my eyes does no good, and I can't pray all day and even into my dreams. Just, while you see some hard things here, know that I am probably cutting it, and you can take it or leave it. Just... don't judge.
It's not me, or what I wish, always, just bits of what I see. I enjoy the company, when it is to be had. I understand when company splits as well. It really isn't for entertainment purposes, if it isn't necessarily fact, only, again, what I see, hear, feel, taste, touch, think... perhaps imagine. So, as long as we understand, should be good.
.
Several, actually. Did I hear you grumble, too, Desert Cat? No, not calling you an interloper, it just seemed that one of the allowed had a bit of a fit. Might have been foam though. Or no one, you know how these notions work.
Whatever the case, I felt some one else, an interloper, about eat their tongue yelling at me for putting up something so horrible on Christmas. To which I reminded them a)it was Christmas eve and b)that they had broken into my mindspace on the eve of one of the most holy of my days. There is no cause for that, no matter if they think they are doing God's bidding, tending my health, protecting the nation, or whatever lame excuse they might provide. I don't know if they received my thoughtblast, but it was sent without any regrets. I won't back down from that now. Okay... later I felt something, but not sure if if was from the interloper... I suspect, but there are several sources that it could have come from. Actually, someone was tickling my feet. Yes, I am crazy. But, that doesn't mean it's not true. Not being sure if it was an attack, I sent "hungry, very hungry" back at them. Got tickled again, in several parts of my foot, and on my arm. Truly, a tickle, giggled did I! So sent "extra, extremely, hungry"... and as an extra, "horny", back at them. Tickling stopped. Might just be nerve damage from diabetes, but I've never felt anything like that without someone physically tickling my feet. Wasn't the cats, either.
Gah! I hope it wasn't my mom tickling my feet! How do I even think such things. Soap, toothbrush, eyeballs. *scrub, scrub, moan, scrub*
Oh, never mind. I just.... it's a diary, not necessarily the truth. Perceptions, thoughts, wonders, worries. Choose to believe as you wish. Even when I am sure about something, like being tickled of mind, I'm probably more in agreement that it isn't possible. A bastard in every way, neither this nor that, if actually possibly both, in truth. :p Tic-tac-toe. We win! And lose.
Crazy, baby. :) Later.
------------
Something foam wrote, in a comment, made me realize to write something. "I'm really too short to ride this ride. But, I stand on tippy toes and cheat and sometimes close my eyes." I did write something in a response comment. I decided to expand on that.
I know it seems terrible, here, at times. Darkness can crowd in, confusion can make things messy, and there I sit. And yet it isn't what it seems. No one was quite made for this ride. The difference is, if it gets too much, you get to close your eyes, duck out for a breath of fresh air, tinker or play or work. This ride is my life. I don't have a way out, closing my eyes does no good, and I can't pray all day and even into my dreams. Just, while you see some hard things here, know that I am probably cutting it, and you can take it or leave it. Just... don't judge.
It's not me, or what I wish, always, just bits of what I see. I enjoy the company, when it is to be had. I understand when company splits as well. It really isn't for entertainment purposes, if it isn't necessarily fact, only, again, what I see, hear, feel, taste, touch, think... perhaps imagine. So, as long as we understand, should be good.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Sinner, angel, saint, and beauty.
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I have favored, among angels. Some are closer to God, some more distant. None should be taken lightly. Of the host, each has his place. They are seen, when they are seen, as handsome to the point of beauty. This confuses some. There is only one time, that I have read, in the bible, where an angel appears to have come in the form of a woman. But the witness(es) where sheep herders, in the wilds, I believe. It would be easy for such to confuse a youthful male, clean of whiskers, perfect in health, in robes, with a woman. So I am not entirely sure of that case, myself.
And while angels do have an unearthly beauty, even in male form, I would suggest some things. One, what those of earth take for beauty, in this case, is in fact a reflection of God. As a stone left near the fire to warm may give off heat when it is removed, so to do angels reflect transcendent radiance when separated from God for a bit. But what I see in men is much more.
From the most humble to, hopefully, the elite, there is no surety. We can not reflect God directly, for He does not present to us in this fashion. Through faith most of those who would shine stumble through life. We cannot depend on reflecting God's beauty, even should we will it, all of the time. Our forms are subject to ills and age. Our minds are ravaged by doubts, wants, and needs. We struggle with sin, and what comes from sin. And yet, in this very thing, we are elevated above angels. They see, we only can believe, at best.
Beauty, for some, truly is skin deep. For themselves, for others. Monsters, to some, those who are not beautiful are set aside. Those who are not successful are spurned. And, at times, correctly. At times, not so much. But often, in the ugly, in the diminished, in the ignorant, there lies the hope. It is how we deal with these people, and sometimes ourselves as such people, things if we aren't quite people maybe more for some of us, that makes us more than angels can ever be... minor mirrors. For we are free to rise above, accept more than just the perfect, and be who we are, as we are, and still reflect God. Above angels, if very humbly.
Angels, and more. Merry Christmas.
Oh ye of little faith. Dolphins. Seven of them, to be exact. Don't believe me, ask a young child and learn a piece of the wisdom of the ages. Blessings.
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Merry Christmas.
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It's hitting me today. That rough spell. Not knowing, for sure, that today was Christmas, didn't help. No problems. Some Christmas seasons are hard for long periods, some for short spots. This is the first bluesy day. And, once I get over it, I will somehow enjoy having gone through it. It reminds me of the sacrifices God asks us to make. One portion here for this, one for there and that, and this part for oblations. And so it is. Some of it, like this, seems built into the system. I, as I suggested, do not mind. I am not sure it is specifically for God, or that He demands it. It just covers the full gamut of our nature while we celebrate. Perhaps being a bit of a surrender to what we have lost, each year losing a bit more no matter how much else we might gain?
It is difficult to be cheery when this hits, no matter how I try to mitigate. Feelings, emotions, are separate from reasoning. Urhm, for most of us. Where reason can fit in with emotions is in deciding, when that is an option, how to deal with what feelings bring. For my part, this time, I am turning over the sadness as a direct gift to God. He bled for us, and more. I can see how He might see such things as... worthy gifts. Even, perhaps especially, in a season otherwise of joy.
I do try to envision Christ's birth. There are discrepancies in the tale. A manger in a stable, or not, among other things. Which was it? I honestly cannot say. Nor, in a way, is it important. It reminds me of the myths of my youth, right to this day, even about things that happened within my own life. A family gathering, and everyone talking about an event, and few remember the thing the same. Weren't we all right there? Didn't we talk about the event even then, together? How could we all remember it so differently? Doesn't seem possible. Only one of us could be right, but there remains a chance that none of us have it exactly right.
A humble baby, however, born to a woman who agreed to God's request, married to a caretaker standing in as guardian, somewhere humble, without family or friends, and with risk from the state hanging over their heads. I wonder if they knew, at the time, the danger they were in. I have always hoped that they were allowed to have peace until that was by needs shattered. It amazes me, too, how little the state has changed in two thousand years. Still, the birth of a child who would become a man who would bring the only hope for men, and others possibly. That is a fleshly thought. Another thought might be to see a singularity event. Not from the ideas of men, but a thing for all time, once in time, never to be repeated in that fashion. Repeated, but not for the same reasons, in the same place, if very possibly in a somewhat similar situation. A once in all time event. Rare indeed, in one sense.
We see it as joyous and simple. But the truth had to be anything but. A man marries a woman, one by all social norms he should not have married. A woman with a child out of wedlock, accepted into wedlock but... not. A child said to be God, if that notion had to be hidden. A world in which the only two choices for that child were personal sacrificial death or one ruler to rule them all, by force. Choices? I suspect, yes, there were options. It all had to come together just -so-. People had to agonize, starting with Mary, but not stopping with her, and even to us today. Each generation, each new born child, must share in that very agony of choice. Unlike other so-called Gods, this one won't return until the faithful have been, for the most part, murdered. Choices. But God doesn't need us to believe to be potent.
Blathering, but so go my thoughts as I think of Christ, Father, the Holy Spirit. When I try to find my place and do what They ask. When I consider the gifts They give, the prices They have paid, the joy They have brought even when on the wings of suffering... my mind simply whirls. Too much there for any man to encompass. Christ suggested, when He walked here, that He did not and could not know all. Not while bound by flesh, as I have it. So much the less for us little ones. And yet, we are asked to try, so I do. Hrumph! Even writing the thoughts correctly can be a bit of a... challenge.
Now, truly, Merry Christmas. I hope Christ has been called to your home. I hope that you have had Him in your midst. I hope the pains and hurts of the season can be turned into joys, even through suffering. I pray that you use this celebration in order to ready for when Christ comes again or the trials between now and then. Yes, Merry Christmas.
.
It's hitting me today. That rough spell. Not knowing, for sure, that today was Christmas, didn't help. No problems. Some Christmas seasons are hard for long periods, some for short spots. This is the first bluesy day. And, once I get over it, I will somehow enjoy having gone through it. It reminds me of the sacrifices God asks us to make. One portion here for this, one for there and that, and this part for oblations. And so it is. Some of it, like this, seems built into the system. I, as I suggested, do not mind. I am not sure it is specifically for God, or that He demands it. It just covers the full gamut of our nature while we celebrate. Perhaps being a bit of a surrender to what we have lost, each year losing a bit more no matter how much else we might gain?
It is difficult to be cheery when this hits, no matter how I try to mitigate. Feelings, emotions, are separate from reasoning. Urhm, for most of us. Where reason can fit in with emotions is in deciding, when that is an option, how to deal with what feelings bring. For my part, this time, I am turning over the sadness as a direct gift to God. He bled for us, and more. I can see how He might see such things as... worthy gifts. Even, perhaps especially, in a season otherwise of joy.
I do try to envision Christ's birth. There are discrepancies in the tale. A manger in a stable, or not, among other things. Which was it? I honestly cannot say. Nor, in a way, is it important. It reminds me of the myths of my youth, right to this day, even about things that happened within my own life. A family gathering, and everyone talking about an event, and few remember the thing the same. Weren't we all right there? Didn't we talk about the event even then, together? How could we all remember it so differently? Doesn't seem possible. Only one of us could be right, but there remains a chance that none of us have it exactly right.
A humble baby, however, born to a woman who agreed to God's request, married to a caretaker standing in as guardian, somewhere humble, without family or friends, and with risk from the state hanging over their heads. I wonder if they knew, at the time, the danger they were in. I have always hoped that they were allowed to have peace until that was by needs shattered. It amazes me, too, how little the state has changed in two thousand years. Still, the birth of a child who would become a man who would bring the only hope for men, and others possibly. That is a fleshly thought. Another thought might be to see a singularity event. Not from the ideas of men, but a thing for all time, once in time, never to be repeated in that fashion. Repeated, but not for the same reasons, in the same place, if very possibly in a somewhat similar situation. A once in all time event. Rare indeed, in one sense.
We see it as joyous and simple. But the truth had to be anything but. A man marries a woman, one by all social norms he should not have married. A woman with a child out of wedlock, accepted into wedlock but... not. A child said to be God, if that notion had to be hidden. A world in which the only two choices for that child were personal sacrificial death or one ruler to rule them all, by force. Choices? I suspect, yes, there were options. It all had to come together just -so-. People had to agonize, starting with Mary, but not stopping with her, and even to us today. Each generation, each new born child, must share in that very agony of choice. Unlike other so-called Gods, this one won't return until the faithful have been, for the most part, murdered. Choices. But God doesn't need us to believe to be potent.
Blathering, but so go my thoughts as I think of Christ, Father, the Holy Spirit. When I try to find my place and do what They ask. When I consider the gifts They give, the prices They have paid, the joy They have brought even when on the wings of suffering... my mind simply whirls. Too much there for any man to encompass. Christ suggested, when He walked here, that He did not and could not know all. Not while bound by flesh, as I have it. So much the less for us little ones. And yet, we are asked to try, so I do. Hrumph! Even writing the thoughts correctly can be a bit of a... challenge.
Now, truly, Merry Christmas. I hope Christ has been called to your home. I hope that you have had Him in your midst. I hope the pains and hurts of the season can be turned into joys, even through suffering. I pray that you use this celebration in order to ready for when Christ comes again or the trials between now and then. Yes, Merry Christmas.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Tresspassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again?
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Not by me, mind you. They are armed. They are intrusive. They suggest these things are for my benefit. And so it shall come to pass.
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Not by me, mind you. They are armed. They are intrusive. They suggest these things are for my benefit. And so it shall come to pass.
Monday, December 23, 2013
Losing time.
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I pushed until I got to about 8:00-10:00 in the morning. I would then crash, hard. The last few mornings have been a great struggle. This morning I am not going to make it to 8:00. I'm doing good to hit 7:00. I just don't have anything left with which to push. Thankfully, the only baby involved is me. I do feel like a baby, just not a normal one. Then again, if you ask some women about their children... Well, on to bed. I have a delight set for dinner, I hope.
Good "night".
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I pushed until I got to about 8:00-10:00 in the morning. I would then crash, hard. The last few mornings have been a great struggle. This morning I am not going to make it to 8:00. I'm doing good to hit 7:00. I just don't have anything left with which to push. Thankfully, the only baby involved is me. I do feel like a baby, just not a normal one. Then again, if you ask some women about their children... Well, on to bed. I have a delight set for dinner, I hope.
Good "night".
Not just the youth.
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True, I think Mr. Whittle hits some fine chords. I think the direction is correct, as a general rule. One of the things I like about life around here is that these kids are taught these things. There aren't as many as there used to be, but there are many children, compared to the rest of America. With greater numbers comes less coddling. They are loved, tended, and perhaps spoiled a bit, but not any more than a solid middle class and just two parents can support. But they have chores, they have parents that expect work, have demands on quality, and push. They are taught to shoot, to hunt perhaps, to butcher animals, they see the nitty-gritty of life.
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True, I think Mr. Whittle hits some fine chords. I think the direction is correct, as a general rule. One of the things I like about life around here is that these kids are taught these things. There aren't as many as there used to be, but there are many children, compared to the rest of America. With greater numbers comes less coddling. They are loved, tended, and perhaps spoiled a bit, but not any more than a solid middle class and just two parents can support. But they have chores, they have parents that expect work, have demands on quality, and push. They are taught to shoot, to hunt perhaps, to butcher animals, they see the nitty-gritty of life.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Laugh at myself? I do. For good reason.
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Going private has done little. Less than I thought. They just think I don't realize they are still watching. What they can do electronically, however, I can do natively, without no wires or electricity. Oh but they do see. They aren't the only ones. They, however, aren't used to being watched back. They know that exists, they just aren't comfortable with it. I am almost certain they know they aren't the only fish in the watching ocean though. They can probably only guess who else watches, and watches even them. I could give them a list. Funny world we live in.
Still, it did cut down on the chaos noise. Legion is gone, the youthful free-radicals no longer tease, haunt, giggle, misuse. Not that many understand, it is just that, like talking to a child too young about the birds and the bees, all you end up with is confusion, laughter, blushes, and such. The ones who remain are intent, devoted... though to what depends on the group, and adult, if human. They have learned not to let their feelings spill onto the screen for those like me to pick up on. And yet, I can feel you, sitting there, quiet like, as a deer being hunted. You don't know why you are quiet and unmoving, and intent, while reading here. It's because you are in bear country, of the mind, spirit, flesh, and even soul. I see right into your eyes with every word your eye reads here. Do you see me in the words? Careful, child. You just helped me see even more. Don't squirm, don't rock, don't twitch, don't... breath. Closer... closer... I'm behind you.
Crazy Ivan, baby. But don't think it was blind.
The choir was wonderful. It was a fine mix of men and women, adults and children. They performed admirably. There were treats for afterward, but I... I could not stay. Family, my church, this church, that convention, I... usually sneak out. I love company, sometimes. But I needed to think, after the music, I think. I enjoyed the company, but I see that they see. There was that, too. Yes, yes, crazy old coot. Hushutup. I am blind but I most definitely see.
I did get dressed, shaved, and put on my Sunday best. It is not typical. Chords, but the right shirt. No tie, and I couldn't find my suit coat... or whatever these modern fineries are called. The tie was too tight tonight. The suit jacket just a touch out of reach for my stumbling mind to guide my hand to. I looked as good as I get. Butt ugly, but large as a rock and twice as dense... in all ways one could take that. Now, all I could find in the time allotted was hiking boots. They are leather, though, so... Urhm, probably need polishing, and waterproofing, but... I did what I could.
I could say more, but I like to let the unofficial readers... wonder. :p *laughing grin*
Afterward I made it to town. Milk, cat food, cat litter, and a few things to make sure Christmas can be celebrated without great hunger or privation. Simple things, but it is the simple things that... mean so much sometimes. A glass of milk, fresh, whole, real. You only have to sweat it out in some shithole of a jungle for a couple of weeks to start wanting mommy and milk, and cookies. And, and, and... But I have it. And, at least I can call my mom.
Later.
.
Going private has done little. Less than I thought. They just think I don't realize they are still watching. What they can do electronically, however, I can do natively, without no wires or electricity. Oh but they do see. They aren't the only ones. They, however, aren't used to being watched back. They know that exists, they just aren't comfortable with it. I am almost certain they know they aren't the only fish in the watching ocean though. They can probably only guess who else watches, and watches even them. I could give them a list. Funny world we live in.
Still, it did cut down on the chaos noise. Legion is gone, the youthful free-radicals no longer tease, haunt, giggle, misuse. Not that many understand, it is just that, like talking to a child too young about the birds and the bees, all you end up with is confusion, laughter, blushes, and such. The ones who remain are intent, devoted... though to what depends on the group, and adult, if human. They have learned not to let their feelings spill onto the screen for those like me to pick up on. And yet, I can feel you, sitting there, quiet like, as a deer being hunted. You don't know why you are quiet and unmoving, and intent, while reading here. It's because you are in bear country, of the mind, spirit, flesh, and even soul. I see right into your eyes with every word your eye reads here. Do you see me in the words? Careful, child. You just helped me see even more. Don't squirm, don't rock, don't twitch, don't... breath. Closer... closer... I'm behind you.
Crazy Ivan, baby. But don't think it was blind.
The choir was wonderful. It was a fine mix of men and women, adults and children. They performed admirably. There were treats for afterward, but I... I could not stay. Family, my church, this church, that convention, I... usually sneak out. I love company, sometimes. But I needed to think, after the music, I think. I enjoyed the company, but I see that they see. There was that, too. Yes, yes, crazy old coot. Hushutup. I am blind but I most definitely see.
I did get dressed, shaved, and put on my Sunday best. It is not typical. Chords, but the right shirt. No tie, and I couldn't find my suit coat... or whatever these modern fineries are called. The tie was too tight tonight. The suit jacket just a touch out of reach for my stumbling mind to guide my hand to. I looked as good as I get. Butt ugly, but large as a rock and twice as dense... in all ways one could take that. Now, all I could find in the time allotted was hiking boots. They are leather, though, so... Urhm, probably need polishing, and waterproofing, but... I did what I could.
I could say more, but I like to let the unofficial readers... wonder. :p *laughing grin*
Afterward I made it to town. Milk, cat food, cat litter, and a few things to make sure Christmas can be celebrated without great hunger or privation. Simple things, but it is the simple things that... mean so much sometimes. A glass of milk, fresh, whole, real. You only have to sweat it out in some shithole of a jungle for a couple of weeks to start wanting mommy and milk, and cookies. And, and, and... But I have it. And, at least I can call my mom.
Later.
Christmas. A new way, for me.
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Oh, don't be too out, but... I never know when Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or... my birthday is. I'm just not good at some things. Sure. Laugh it up. Enjoy one of Doom's weaknesses. I don't mind, it's just the way of it. Nor do I mind, for my part. Today, tomorrow, yesterday, a week from now, three years ago, ten years from now... You... just have to have the right perspective and then you understand... some other things. Time is not what it seems. What is, was, will be, and could be all mingle into a form of... Never mind. Oddly, I do believe most of you know at least some of that which I speak... if you all probably know exactly when those holidays fall. You simply haven't drunk deeply enough from the cup about which I speak. I've tasted the last drop. Tastes nothing like Folgers, by the way.
I suggested I would begin looking for notions regarding the 12 Days of Christmas. And so I have. Here is a more modern adaptation to the notion. While this is by a Catholic author, I do believe there are some in all or most denominations who celebrate a similar way. I know there are Mormons who do as well. It is, actually, a tradition dating, from what I have read, from before the Martin Luther. While he wasn't the first splitter, he created the longest lasting schism. Anyway, here is a modern notion. I was correct, it is celebrated in the days following Christmas itself, and Christmas Eve is a part of it. Yeah, I... dig deep when I go long. I suppose, if I piss you off, you were probably pissed off already, you were just waiting for someone, anyone to say something, or... anything. Ha! The good thing about the link is it offers a mixed view, so you can see what might work for you. It's, for me, a start.
I was starting to fear that tonight, or... today... was Christmas. So confused, so often, about some things.
Oh, now I may play Christmas music. I don't have to find Catholic choirs. But I will be looking to small church setting choirs. I will be going to an event to... this evening. So I will get to hear some Christmas music from a fine town choir personally too. But, for now, for here, for toni... this morning...
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Oh, don't be too out, but... I never know when Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or... my birthday is. I'm just not good at some things. Sure. Laugh it up. Enjoy one of Doom's weaknesses. I don't mind, it's just the way of it. Nor do I mind, for my part. Today, tomorrow, yesterday, a week from now, three years ago, ten years from now... You... just have to have the right perspective and then you understand... some other things. Time is not what it seems. What is, was, will be, and could be all mingle into a form of... Never mind. Oddly, I do believe most of you know at least some of that which I speak... if you all probably know exactly when those holidays fall. You simply haven't drunk deeply enough from the cup about which I speak. I've tasted the last drop. Tastes nothing like Folgers, by the way.
I suggested I would begin looking for notions regarding the 12 Days of Christmas. And so I have. Here is a more modern adaptation to the notion. While this is by a Catholic author, I do believe there are some in all or most denominations who celebrate a similar way. I know there are Mormons who do as well. It is, actually, a tradition dating, from what I have read, from before the Martin Luther. While he wasn't the first splitter, he created the longest lasting schism. Anyway, here is a modern notion. I was correct, it is celebrated in the days following Christmas itself, and Christmas Eve is a part of it. Yeah, I... dig deep when I go long. I suppose, if I piss you off, you were probably pissed off already, you were just waiting for someone, anyone to say something, or... anything. Ha! The good thing about the link is it offers a mixed view, so you can see what might work for you. It's, for me, a start.
I was starting to fear that tonight, or... today... was Christmas. So confused, so often, about some things.
Oh, now I may play Christmas music. I don't have to find Catholic choirs. But I will be looking to small church setting choirs. I will be going to an event to... this evening. So I will get to hear some Christmas music from a fine town choir personally too. But, for now, for here, for toni... this morning...
Saturday, December 21, 2013
A question for the intrepid adventurers here.
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There is a man, a local. I call him friend, and I believe it to be mutual. He doesn't know about me, about the same way you guys don't know about me... often. :) But I think he sees something there. Entertaining? Provocative but in a... usually reasonable manner if heavily weighted on one corner of the squared quad of reality? Informative? Perhaps with a different take on faith than what is allowed in church these days? Perhaps just the first, entertainment, I never know, with certainty, anything. I just approximate and shoot.
Aye, but he isn't just any man. He is also the father of the young woman I have... had thoughts concerning. Clean as those thoughts truly are, they do encompass the notion of more. I don't... sexually ponder, mentally manhandle, good women. You just have to trust me. And, perhaps, some anger about that, even if he understands it rightly. He is no more sure what to do with that than he is to do with me. I cannot be sure about the exact nature of the anger. Not everything is what it seems, and I have my ways of seeing past some nominally typical assumptions and into the heart of things, if I... can easily be mistaken.
The thing is, if he does visit, I think he enjoys it very much. His miss-takes regarding what he reads here are no different than yours, or even mine (just... work with me). Just, from his own perspective. The thing is, I would like to invite him. I thought to ask for his email, and just send a blind invitation. But... that... I must be sure he does indeed read here. While I do sense, that... has to be... evaluated in real time before I move forward with something, anything I perceive that way actually. That could be a huge mistake, should I be wrong. So, should I decide to invite him, which I probably will but would like some feedback from you all, I will simply ask him if he reads here and if he wants to continue.
He will never comment, most likely. That isn't the point. He won't involve himself in any way, probably not visiting other bloggers. Though I suspect his wife very much enjoys haiku, so she may. And yes, when she can handle it, she reads here, or he shows her things. She never knew... until it touched her, that something like haiku even had meaning. She is still a bit... uncomfortable here, but... for teh art? :p I am considering whether to... edit some things I have written since I closed shop to the public, or not. If not, I will discuss another... THE... issue... with him. No, just very passively unless he... has more interest in entertaining that conversation. Brave or foolish, I do what I do.
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There is a man, a local. I call him friend, and I believe it to be mutual. He doesn't know about me, about the same way you guys don't know about me... often. :) But I think he sees something there. Entertaining? Provocative but in a... usually reasonable manner if heavily weighted on one corner of the squared quad of reality? Informative? Perhaps with a different take on faith than what is allowed in church these days? Perhaps just the first, entertainment, I never know, with certainty, anything. I just approximate and shoot.
Aye, but he isn't just any man. He is also the father of the young woman I have... had thoughts concerning. Clean as those thoughts truly are, they do encompass the notion of more. I don't... sexually ponder, mentally manhandle, good women. You just have to trust me. And, perhaps, some anger about that, even if he understands it rightly. He is no more sure what to do with that than he is to do with me. I cannot be sure about the exact nature of the anger. Not everything is what it seems, and I have my ways of seeing past some nominally typical assumptions and into the heart of things, if I... can easily be mistaken.
The thing is, if he does visit, I think he enjoys it very much. His miss-takes regarding what he reads here are no different than yours, or even mine (just... work with me). Just, from his own perspective. The thing is, I would like to invite him. I thought to ask for his email, and just send a blind invitation. But... that... I must be sure he does indeed read here. While I do sense, that... has to be... evaluated in real time before I move forward with something, anything I perceive that way actually. That could be a huge mistake, should I be wrong. So, should I decide to invite him, which I probably will but would like some feedback from you all, I will simply ask him if he reads here and if he wants to continue.
He will never comment, most likely. That isn't the point. He won't involve himself in any way, probably not visiting other bloggers. Though I suspect his wife very much enjoys haiku, so she may. And yes, when she can handle it, she reads here, or he shows her things. She never knew... until it touched her, that something like haiku even had meaning. She is still a bit... uncomfortable here, but... for teh art? :p I am considering whether to... edit some things I have written since I closed shop to the public, or not. If not, I will discuss another... THE... issue... with him. No, just very passively unless he... has more interest in entertaining that conversation. Brave or foolish, I do what I do.
I hate these... or keep trying to hate them.
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But, here I am... showing one. ArgHghghhh! No commentary.
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But, here I am... showing one. ArgHghghhh! No commentary.
Welcome.
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It was beastly getting just you three in. I can't but imagine that google would rather no one visit, or that the page even exist. I'm not sure why they haven't burned it yet. Then again, they have tried.
I don't know if you have all joined. But I do know, if you haven't, we will be trying to get you signed up again, in a month. They say a month is 30 days, but it wouldn't surprise me if 30 days is the max, but it being a calendar end of the month thing. So, if you haven't joined this blog, somehow, expect to be going through this again. How do you join? Good question. Their instructions for any of this were written in Chinese, by Indians, then translated into French by Cubans, then translated into English, probably British English by a Pole, then it drifted into more familiar American vernacular by accident. Mud. Not even really mud, clear as moist dirt. Thick, deep, pungent, alive, dirt, at that. Bleh. Oh, I can see these tech giants helping Zerocare... They and their ilk built it, and they have their own accomplishments behind them as well. *cough* Hiring minorities and putting them in power, at any cost, HO! *grins* Love my enemies to be fixed, fearless, arrogant, and stupid and weak by design.
Dreams. I thought I heard Santa and some elves. Seriously, I could only hear, they were working to open room for the sleigh and track to the stables... removing snow. They had been so busy building gifts that snow removal was a last priority. No, no, that's how it usually works, nothing unusual there. I tried to wake up, but could only mumble to myself to wake up. Did no good. Turns out, they were here, shoveling my snow. They always beat me to the punch when school is out and I am sleeping off. I would like to have had them in for hot cocoa, or given them some to go.
I did, eventually, wake, a bit, at about 11:00. Since I hadn't gone to bed until... 8:00-9:00... I really am surprised I woke at all. I could not remember which life this was, though. A studied check of my weapons stash, I always have had weapons within reach, showed me what world I was waking to this time. I saw the katana first, but I have never owned such a sword, so I knew that wasn't it. Yeah, I know my weapons. next I saw the pump shotgun... Memory became a little clearer. Aye, but it was the 9 mm and the Kalashnikov that set the time stamp and which life. Them's are new. I have seen the future, but not that part of it, should I even be in it. I'm not sure much will change, but then I never do, if change is rather rare and slow... even in these times, for all practical purposes.
Later.
.
It was beastly getting just you three in. I can't but imagine that google would rather no one visit, or that the page even exist. I'm not sure why they haven't burned it yet. Then again, they have tried.
I don't know if you have all joined. But I do know, if you haven't, we will be trying to get you signed up again, in a month. They say a month is 30 days, but it wouldn't surprise me if 30 days is the max, but it being a calendar end of the month thing. So, if you haven't joined this blog, somehow, expect to be going through this again. How do you join? Good question. Their instructions for any of this were written in Chinese, by Indians, then translated into French by Cubans, then translated into English, probably British English by a Pole, then it drifted into more familiar American vernacular by accident. Mud. Not even really mud, clear as moist dirt. Thick, deep, pungent, alive, dirt, at that. Bleh. Oh, I can see these tech giants helping Zerocare... They and their ilk built it, and they have their own accomplishments behind them as well. *cough* Hiring minorities and putting them in power, at any cost, HO! *grins* Love my enemies to be fixed, fearless, arrogant, and stupid and weak by design.
Dreams. I thought I heard Santa and some elves. Seriously, I could only hear, they were working to open room for the sleigh and track to the stables... removing snow. They had been so busy building gifts that snow removal was a last priority. No, no, that's how it usually works, nothing unusual there. I tried to wake up, but could only mumble to myself to wake up. Did no good. Turns out, they were here, shoveling my snow. They always beat me to the punch when school is out and I am sleeping off. I would like to have had them in for hot cocoa, or given them some to go.
I did, eventually, wake, a bit, at about 11:00. Since I hadn't gone to bed until... 8:00-9:00... I really am surprised I woke at all. I could not remember which life this was, though. A studied check of my weapons stash, I always have had weapons within reach, showed me what world I was waking to this time. I saw the katana first, but I have never owned such a sword, so I knew that wasn't it. Yeah, I know my weapons. next I saw the pump shotgun... Memory became a little clearer. Aye, but it was the 9 mm and the Kalashnikov that set the time stamp and which life. Them's are new. I have seen the future, but not that part of it, should I even be in it. I'm not sure much will change, but then I never do, if change is rather rare and slow... even in these times, for all practical purposes.
Later.
Not doing so well.
.
.
I'm not sure what is going on, but health-wise, I am a little on the green gilled side of things. It's not the worst shape I have been in, by far. But it's far from the best. Only a step or two down from where I was, but noticeably. I'll get over it. I have been taking my medicines, but it feels like everything is wrong anyway. It does this once in a while, but usually after missing medicines for a bit. It's like those days when you have worked just a little too long and you are just about to come down with something. Oh, I'm not coming down with something, I just don't. Either I get hit, and hard, or I don't get it. But I've lived around humans enough to know that most go through a slow decline before becoming ill.
We were supposed to get another four to six inches of snow. We did get some, it looks like, but not all that much. Maybe two inches, though I will know better in the light. If I can get to sleep before long, I hope to get the scoop out before the neighbors feel obliged. Then again, I think they like to do it. It is physical work, charity, and "dad" likes to see the boys do something real. And, I think he likes to be with them. :) I am jealous, in the best of ways, if somewhat painfully. I'll enjoy my distant, and sometimes close, view of it though, when I can.
I can't quite stay up more than twelve to fourteen hours, and I sleep between eight and twelve hours. I've sort of been tracking, in case that was part of the problem. Nope, that just isn't it. While it isn't the best, it seems to be a result of whatever else is wrong. Gosh this is a tough fall and winter. I'll keep trying to dig out.
I know you don't understand. But there were too many people reading here, of too many different sorts. Young, old, middling, those who appreciated, those who didn't, those who were highly variable. I felt all that. I really did. I can handle some, but not that much. I was a bit surprised, but you two don't show up as having visited. Sometimes I will get instant hits, but it doesn't track time, at all, unless you have been showing up for just a second or two each time? Oddly, while it shows no one visited, it does show some hits. I think, think, I say, Desert Cat hits three to four posts the last few visits. And foam seems to have hit two posts, in each of her last two visits. But the darned thing really isn't good for real counts. The thing is, I was at fifty official visits a day, not counting you, me (I have figured out how to not show up as well), and several others I know visited but didn't show... they left comments without adding to the counts, by time.
At 50 official page hits a day, and perhaps, definitely, another... five or six I was sure had visited for one reason or another, I would add at least half as many again, conservatively. Like I said, I seem to be known locally. I'm not sure where they would have gotten my pic, but... I think I posted it on my old account. Oddly, I can't seem to access that, even when signed in, but that doesn't mean those with a touch more tech savvy notions can't. I thought I took the picture down. Then again, once something is on the interwebs, it seems to have a permanency that is creepy. Blathering. Tired. Want to try to push but I ran out of shove.
Good "night".
----------
A few pictorial responses to go with the comments...
Lucky? I don't think luck plays a part. Neither do I think I am that good. Amen.
.
I'm not sure what is going on, but health-wise, I am a little on the green gilled side of things. It's not the worst shape I have been in, by far. But it's far from the best. Only a step or two down from where I was, but noticeably. I'll get over it. I have been taking my medicines, but it feels like everything is wrong anyway. It does this once in a while, but usually after missing medicines for a bit. It's like those days when you have worked just a little too long and you are just about to come down with something. Oh, I'm not coming down with something, I just don't. Either I get hit, and hard, or I don't get it. But I've lived around humans enough to know that most go through a slow decline before becoming ill.
We were supposed to get another four to six inches of snow. We did get some, it looks like, but not all that much. Maybe two inches, though I will know better in the light. If I can get to sleep before long, I hope to get the scoop out before the neighbors feel obliged. Then again, I think they like to do it. It is physical work, charity, and "dad" likes to see the boys do something real. And, I think he likes to be with them. :) I am jealous, in the best of ways, if somewhat painfully. I'll enjoy my distant, and sometimes close, view of it though, when I can.
I can't quite stay up more than twelve to fourteen hours, and I sleep between eight and twelve hours. I've sort of been tracking, in case that was part of the problem. Nope, that just isn't it. While it isn't the best, it seems to be a result of whatever else is wrong. Gosh this is a tough fall and winter. I'll keep trying to dig out.
I know you don't understand. But there were too many people reading here, of too many different sorts. Young, old, middling, those who appreciated, those who didn't, those who were highly variable. I felt all that. I really did. I can handle some, but not that much. I was a bit surprised, but you two don't show up as having visited. Sometimes I will get instant hits, but it doesn't track time, at all, unless you have been showing up for just a second or two each time? Oddly, while it shows no one visited, it does show some hits. I think, think, I say, Desert Cat hits three to four posts the last few visits. And foam seems to have hit two posts, in each of her last two visits. But the darned thing really isn't good for real counts. The thing is, I was at fifty official visits a day, not counting you, me (I have figured out how to not show up as well), and several others I know visited but didn't show... they left comments without adding to the counts, by time.
At 50 official page hits a day, and perhaps, definitely, another... five or six I was sure had visited for one reason or another, I would add at least half as many again, conservatively. Like I said, I seem to be known locally. I'm not sure where they would have gotten my pic, but... I think I posted it on my old account. Oddly, I can't seem to access that, even when signed in, but that doesn't mean those with a touch more tech savvy notions can't. I thought I took the picture down. Then again, once something is on the interwebs, it seems to have a permanency that is creepy. Blathering. Tired. Want to try to push but I ran out of shove.
Good "night".
----------
A few pictorial responses to go with the comments...
Friday, December 20, 2013
While looking for new games I found one.
.
.
Oh, tales, of course. I never had to go looking for who killed me, or even seek revenge or justice. While I am not absolutely sure that I am still living, on earth, as I knew things... Actually, I know I am not. I might be insane, that is one potential. If I am, the health care providers have proved too wrong to know. For my part I think not. If I am simply on earth, in flesh, then I have changed. What was, isn't. I can see, touch, taste, and the rest, but not. And what I can see and hear and such, isn't always, or could be, will be, might be. Either that or I am still in purgatory, never having left it. I have to guess that no matter how close to flesh such a place might feel, you would have some inkling that things just aren't quite right. At least some would. I would be among those.
Whatever the case ends up turning out to be, for I truly cannot divine the truth of this notion for all my worth. No longer do I worry about it, either. I decided, some time back, to take this life, existence, I have, at face value, head toward heaven, and not let anything stop me. Not even me. Actually, for all the evil that is out there, the truth is, only I can grant me hell. Heaven is quite open, if I choose it. The path may be narrow, it may be difficult, but the other way is worse when you... understand some things. One word will help you understand. Addiction. Misery, in larger and larger doses, looking for the fool's gold heaven known as hell. A shortcut, but there are no shortcuts. Only dead ends and the path.
.
Oh, tales, of course. I never had to go looking for who killed me, or even seek revenge or justice. While I am not absolutely sure that I am still living, on earth, as I knew things... Actually, I know I am not. I might be insane, that is one potential. If I am, the health care providers have proved too wrong to know. For my part I think not. If I am simply on earth, in flesh, then I have changed. What was, isn't. I can see, touch, taste, and the rest, but not. And what I can see and hear and such, isn't always, or could be, will be, might be. Either that or I am still in purgatory, never having left it. I have to guess that no matter how close to flesh such a place might feel, you would have some inkling that things just aren't quite right. At least some would. I would be among those.
Whatever the case ends up turning out to be, for I truly cannot divine the truth of this notion for all my worth. No longer do I worry about it, either. I decided, some time back, to take this life, existence, I have, at face value, head toward heaven, and not let anything stop me. Not even me. Actually, for all the evil that is out there, the truth is, only I can grant me hell. Heaven is quite open, if I choose it. The path may be narrow, it may be difficult, but the other way is worse when you... understand some things. One word will help you understand. Addiction. Misery, in larger and larger doses, looking for the fool's gold heaven known as hell. A shortcut, but there are no shortcuts. Only dead ends and the path.
Yes, yes!
.
.
Oh yes. But more than a moment, now. I needed a break. I took it. Might go public again, someday?
.
Oh yes. But more than a moment, now. I needed a break. I took it. Might go public again, someday?
A Moment?
simplicity of
soul ~ the cool touch of nothing
auditory nil
The world, she spins!
.
.
Bruised and battered from trying to push my day around. I am sprinting toward my goal and still losing ground somehow. I DO know what a salmon on it's return run goes through. The current, the rocks, the jumps... the fishermen and bears. All, though, of my own devices. Throw the world in on it, and... it is an epic swim by a humble being. Sometimes all I am is a bundle of will to survive. Nothing else can remain or I should ghost a final time.
Sleep is hard, being awake is hard, everything hurts just a little. The pain isn't overwhelming, but as the pebbles in the shoe when they cannot be handled due to the urgency of the march, the subtle suffering is it's own unique form of torture. I just have to focus erstwhile, when I can. Then narrow that focus to a laser beam of the meanest of point. In doing so, capacity to function narrows and can be swallowed by the void of everything else. Does what I just wrote even make sense? It is my mind talking with raw thought-feeling. Right past, and over, my conscious mind... like a... diamond bullet, not into my mind but out of it. Clean, crystalline, pure. Yes, yes... like that.
Down by... 8:00? Up at perhaps 16:00? Dunno, but... all around and thereabouts. Medicine is being taken correctly. I have thawed meat and eaten lately. Steaks, then chicken gizzards. I even when a bit fancy with the gizzards. I breaded them, baked them, cooled them, then put them in beaten egg and coated them with panko, before frying them in lard. Oh, yes, that is the crunch I so dearly wanted. Yes, that will make fried chicken perfect. No dishes, no laundry, barely moving, things hurt, can't think, can't sleep, awake solidly but lost in fog.
Christmas? It's coming, isn't it, soon. I did review the 12 days of Christmas thing. Yes, it is after the official day. I need to see if I can get out and buy a quality taper candle for an hour burn each day. A few years ago, members of the local church brought by a 12 days of Christmas candle. And I did use it, within my capacity. I think my goal, with Christmas celebration, is to light the candle each day, and spend some time, an hour would be great but my focus won't work... just... some time... praying. While the candle is light... Mostly just to thank and praise God in Christ. To thank Jesus for His teaching and sacrifice and the grace He offers. Yes, I think that will be my goal. I may do an official write-up, so as to keep it and then begin making it my tradition. What do you do for Christmas?
Later.
.
Bruised and battered from trying to push my day around. I am sprinting toward my goal and still losing ground somehow. I DO know what a salmon on it's return run goes through. The current, the rocks, the jumps... the fishermen and bears. All, though, of my own devices. Throw the world in on it, and... it is an epic swim by a humble being. Sometimes all I am is a bundle of will to survive. Nothing else can remain or I should ghost a final time.
Sleep is hard, being awake is hard, everything hurts just a little. The pain isn't overwhelming, but as the pebbles in the shoe when they cannot be handled due to the urgency of the march, the subtle suffering is it's own unique form of torture. I just have to focus erstwhile, when I can. Then narrow that focus to a laser beam of the meanest of point. In doing so, capacity to function narrows and can be swallowed by the void of everything else. Does what I just wrote even make sense? It is my mind talking with raw thought-feeling. Right past, and over, my conscious mind... like a... diamond bullet, not into my mind but out of it. Clean, crystalline, pure. Yes, yes... like that.
Down by... 8:00? Up at perhaps 16:00? Dunno, but... all around and thereabouts. Medicine is being taken correctly. I have thawed meat and eaten lately. Steaks, then chicken gizzards. I even when a bit fancy with the gizzards. I breaded them, baked them, cooled them, then put them in beaten egg and coated them with panko, before frying them in lard. Oh, yes, that is the crunch I so dearly wanted. Yes, that will make fried chicken perfect. No dishes, no laundry, barely moving, things hurt, can't think, can't sleep, awake solidly but lost in fog.
Christmas? It's coming, isn't it, soon. I did review the 12 days of Christmas thing. Yes, it is after the official day. I need to see if I can get out and buy a quality taper candle for an hour burn each day. A few years ago, members of the local church brought by a 12 days of Christmas candle. And I did use it, within my capacity. I think my goal, with Christmas celebration, is to light the candle each day, and spend some time, an hour would be great but my focus won't work... just... some time... praying. While the candle is light... Mostly just to thank and praise God in Christ. To thank Jesus for His teaching and sacrifice and the grace He offers. Yes, I think that will be my goal. I may do an official write-up, so as to keep it and then begin making it my tradition. What do you do for Christmas?
Later.
Someone else is here.
.
.
Ah, wasn't sure who, but I suspected. Now I know. Hi foam! *waves* *smiles*
Glad you could make it.
.
Ah, wasn't sure who, but I suspected. Now I know. Hi foam! *waves* *smiles*
Glad you could make it.
Okay, well, working.
.
.
A steak, the last of them, was cooked. While it was juicing (I like to add salt to the tops, then let it sit for an hour while also coming to room temperature), I reset the dishes. The goal is to get those taken care of tonight, and a load of laundry through. That will be it, or almost all of laundry. I suppose I could do a couple of very small loads. Not much else going on for me tonight.
I had planned to get out and try the repaired snow blower. We ended up, probably, with about six inches of snow. Yeah, well, my wish. And I don't mind. As I said, we didn't get the freezing rain first, or interspersed, or after, as some parts of the state did. Ugh! Yeah, I'm probably not going anywhere, but that isn't the point. And, you never know.
The neighbor showed up, with his boys. But they showed up right as I finished cooking dinner! I couldn't invite them in, there wasn't enough. And I wanted to eat while it was still warm. I rarely get such a treat. I did explain. And, yeah, he could smell it. The snow blower worked perfectly. The price was much... better than I had feared. Maintenance issue. *cough* Yeah, yeah, but... for running it for nearly ten years without doing a thing to it, actually... not bad. It has already more than paid for itself in exchanged effort. Most likely, it will continue to do so for many years. With a bit more maintenance *cough* it might even be free, save the cost of maintenance. Or effort and cost to lower that.
Having great troubles with blogger allowances. I haven't heard from Michael. I did send him an email asking about it. But foam is not receiving the email. Odd that a non-google email would get the email from a google account, but from google to google they get lost? Ah, I bet these jackwagons were in on Zerocare. Go figure. Then again, at least for Zerocare, I am quite pleased with their work. Idealism? Meet the real fucking world. You would think that would wake them up, but communists are too God damned stupid to ever wake up. Thankfully, that is what hell is for. And, yes, they do wake up there. No choice. Believe.
Hmm... trying to push my days back into days is beastly. I should chunk down a handful of aspirin. Then I will continue to shove. I will shove until I can't. It's not much, but for the pain of it you would think I was doing real work, and too much real work at that. Being mostly dead really sucks some days. At least I'm not into onesies, hairy asses, and Zerocare. There is that. Someone once asked if, as a werewolf (hypothetical and symbolic, I think, they meant, sort of), if I liked hairy werewolf women? Of course not, says I, for there is no such thing. Women are for the day job only. Duh. Damned kids, don't know nothing. Actually, there are no vampire women, either. The closest you get are the half-dead pop-tarts, for perpetual tasting. They aren't true vampires at all. Like wild chicks, they must be fed, can't feed themselves. *grins*
Believe the stories as you will. I tell you as I see it.
.
A steak, the last of them, was cooked. While it was juicing (I like to add salt to the tops, then let it sit for an hour while also coming to room temperature), I reset the dishes. The goal is to get those taken care of tonight, and a load of laundry through. That will be it, or almost all of laundry. I suppose I could do a couple of very small loads. Not much else going on for me tonight.
I had planned to get out and try the repaired snow blower. We ended up, probably, with about six inches of snow. Yeah, well, my wish. And I don't mind. As I said, we didn't get the freezing rain first, or interspersed, or after, as some parts of the state did. Ugh! Yeah, I'm probably not going anywhere, but that isn't the point. And, you never know.
The neighbor showed up, with his boys. But they showed up right as I finished cooking dinner! I couldn't invite them in, there wasn't enough. And I wanted to eat while it was still warm. I rarely get such a treat. I did explain. And, yeah, he could smell it. The snow blower worked perfectly. The price was much... better than I had feared. Maintenance issue. *cough* Yeah, yeah, but... for running it for nearly ten years without doing a thing to it, actually... not bad. It has already more than paid for itself in exchanged effort. Most likely, it will continue to do so for many years. With a bit more maintenance *cough* it might even be free, save the cost of maintenance. Or effort and cost to lower that.
Having great troubles with blogger allowances. I haven't heard from Michael. I did send him an email asking about it. But foam is not receiving the email. Odd that a non-google email would get the email from a google account, but from google to google they get lost? Ah, I bet these jackwagons were in on Zerocare. Go figure. Then again, at least for Zerocare, I am quite pleased with their work. Idealism? Meet the real fucking world. You would think that would wake them up, but communists are too God damned stupid to ever wake up. Thankfully, that is what hell is for. And, yes, they do wake up there. No choice. Believe.
Hmm... trying to push my days back into days is beastly. I should chunk down a handful of aspirin. Then I will continue to shove. I will shove until I can't. It's not much, but for the pain of it you would think I was doing real work, and too much real work at that. Being mostly dead really sucks some days. At least I'm not into onesies, hairy asses, and Zerocare. There is that. Someone once asked if, as a werewolf (hypothetical and symbolic, I think, they meant, sort of), if I liked hairy werewolf women? Of course not, says I, for there is no such thing. Women are for the day job only. Duh. Damned kids, don't know nothing. Actually, there are no vampire women, either. The closest you get are the half-dead pop-tarts, for perpetual tasting. They aren't true vampires at all. Like wild chicks, they must be fed, can't feed themselves. *grins*
Believe the stories as you will. I tell you as I see it.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Oh, ouch.
.
.
Bad, bad, headache. No, Vox didn't cause it. Laughing at my response to foam's query at her blog isn't the cause. No, pushing my clock around is it. I didn't go down until 8:00 or 9:00, maybe later. Then I slept like the dead I think. I didn't roll, not sure I moved. *bam* And my neck suffers, thus the headache. As far as headaches goes, it's a beaut. It's not a migraine, but as for just regular headaches, it is a perfect 10. The pain is clean, bright, and clear like lightning. There is just enough throbbing near the spine to add that element, but it doesn't come close to the major pain, just a nice solid backbeat to fill out the pain profile. The skeletal portion is just that right amount of ache that one looks for to boast an exquisite medley of suffering. And the whole thing, all together, is enough to keep thinking to very narrow pathways. Hmm, pain as a fine wine of sorts? Who knew. Actually, after tasting fine to table to swill, I prefer a good headache to most wine, so... there is that.
I woke at about 17:00. I noticed my mother had called. She has received all her packages, and as per my instructions, opened all but two. Then again, maybe, maybe not. She fibs every bit as much as I, if misunderstandings occurred. I tell her I am taking my meds, even if I slipped. So she doesn't worry, at least if it was a short term. While I asked her to save the two smaller packages for Christmas, she may have missed my instructions, or... in her exuberance, mislaid my instructions. Still, I'll take her word for it. Anyway, one of the things I got her, that she was technically allowed to open, was a package of #10 cans of freeze dried meals. A couple beef stroganoff, a couple chicken and rice, chicken teriyaki, and several other chicken entrees. She had beef stroganoff on mashed potatoes with her roommate the other night. Delightful, she thought. For all the meals, as such, that she has sweated to get the ingredients for from the store, then chopping, separating, and preparing, then all the hot kitchens she has stood in, slaving for a little food for those under her care, I just thought she deserved a little ease of eating once in a while. And it is a good store. She might even consider, when her largish supply runs low, of adding a can once in a while to have on hand.
Then she goes and tells me she made fried liver and onions. She confuses my brother and myself, I think. She meant to tease gag me. My brother literally tossed that up, when we tricked him by telling him it was steak. (My idea, since I thought he was faking... my bad.) Nope, wrong son. But she did get a rise out of me, that of jealousy. I LOVE her onions and liver. She pan fries it, making a gravy. I have never found any restaurant or person who makes liver as she does. I miss that like I miss her true Mexican food. I can get some passable taste of Mexican, from time to time, but not liver. Danged woman has us boys pegged, even when she mixes us up!
Yes, I'm back on medicines. That might help explain the headache, or the sleep problems that might be the cause of the headache, but just as likely neither. I just lead a painful life sometimes. With half the dishes done, I decided to thaw meat. Steak! Well, and chicken gizzards. But steak first. Last night, then today. The steaks came in two-packs, which I meant to break up but never did, so... I had to that them together. Oh, woe is me, innit? As such, I have some impetus to finish the dishes and laundry.
Oh, my wish for snow? We got, I would say, about four inches, here. Logan, only 23 miles away? At least eight inches. But furthers south they got rain, which froze into a half inch sheet, then it snowed, then it rained and froze on top of that. For my part? I'm good with snow. I will, perhaps tomorrow, see if the snow blower works under load. Later.
.
Bad, bad, headache. No, Vox didn't cause it. Laughing at my response to foam's query at her blog isn't the cause. No, pushing my clock around is it. I didn't go down until 8:00 or 9:00, maybe later. Then I slept like the dead I think. I didn't roll, not sure I moved. *bam* And my neck suffers, thus the headache. As far as headaches goes, it's a beaut. It's not a migraine, but as for just regular headaches, it is a perfect 10. The pain is clean, bright, and clear like lightning. There is just enough throbbing near the spine to add that element, but it doesn't come close to the major pain, just a nice solid backbeat to fill out the pain profile. The skeletal portion is just that right amount of ache that one looks for to boast an exquisite medley of suffering. And the whole thing, all together, is enough to keep thinking to very narrow pathways. Hmm, pain as a fine wine of sorts? Who knew. Actually, after tasting fine to table to swill, I prefer a good headache to most wine, so... there is that.
I woke at about 17:00. I noticed my mother had called. She has received all her packages, and as per my instructions, opened all but two. Then again, maybe, maybe not. She fibs every bit as much as I, if misunderstandings occurred. I tell her I am taking my meds, even if I slipped. So she doesn't worry, at least if it was a short term. While I asked her to save the two smaller packages for Christmas, she may have missed my instructions, or... in her exuberance, mislaid my instructions. Still, I'll take her word for it. Anyway, one of the things I got her, that she was technically allowed to open, was a package of #10 cans of freeze dried meals. A couple beef stroganoff, a couple chicken and rice, chicken teriyaki, and several other chicken entrees. She had beef stroganoff on mashed potatoes with her roommate the other night. Delightful, she thought. For all the meals, as such, that she has sweated to get the ingredients for from the store, then chopping, separating, and preparing, then all the hot kitchens she has stood in, slaving for a little food for those under her care, I just thought she deserved a little ease of eating once in a while. And it is a good store. She might even consider, when her largish supply runs low, of adding a can once in a while to have on hand.
Then she goes and tells me she made fried liver and onions. She confuses my brother and myself, I think. She meant to tease gag me. My brother literally tossed that up, when we tricked him by telling him it was steak. (My idea, since I thought he was faking... my bad.) Nope, wrong son. But she did get a rise out of me, that of jealousy. I LOVE her onions and liver. She pan fries it, making a gravy. I have never found any restaurant or person who makes liver as she does. I miss that like I miss her true Mexican food. I can get some passable taste of Mexican, from time to time, but not liver. Danged woman has us boys pegged, even when she mixes us up!
Yes, I'm back on medicines. That might help explain the headache, or the sleep problems that might be the cause of the headache, but just as likely neither. I just lead a painful life sometimes. With half the dishes done, I decided to thaw meat. Steak! Well, and chicken gizzards. But steak first. Last night, then today. The steaks came in two-packs, which I meant to break up but never did, so... I had to that them together. Oh, woe is me, innit? As such, I have some impetus to finish the dishes and laundry.
Oh, my wish for snow? We got, I would say, about four inches, here. Logan, only 23 miles away? At least eight inches. But furthers south they got rain, which froze into a half inch sheet, then it snowed, then it rained and froze on top of that. For my part? I'm good with snow. I will, perhaps tomorrow, see if the snow blower works under load. Later.
WTF, Vox.
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Vox just wrote a piece, about the pajama guy in the new Obamacare commercial. I hope he was joking. It just didn't sound like it. Talking about the pajama guy, who he says is a former IDF soldier as if that meant something, as someone to be respected for his service. Bruce Lee didn't mean a thing to me, a simple, or even top, IDF, or US soldier doesn't mean much. If I am sent for someone, I wouldn't have knocked on their door and asked them to fist fight. I would catch them with their pants down or their lights out, then finished their job, if possible. I don't get when people think being a warrior, even me as one, means a damned thing. That doesn't make someone... defense-able. I can literally kill most men you know with a few punches. If I fight for life, and know it going in, I can take a man out of competition in less time than a blink. I can even simply put him down but not kill him, in five seconds. I can do that without a blade or firearm. Add in one of those and I'm outright lethal to mass numbers of attackers or defenders. IDF does not impress. I don't impress me. I am not eternal. Even more? What I take I cannot return. Pathetic.
Then he suggests that the ad is genius. I hope he is, again, jesting. No matter how perfectly you design a fail joke to spring on attackers, if you have to explain it, you have failed. Why not just have Boy George do the schtick. He was said to have been a heck of a fighter. Fail. Same with using an IDF, or anyone "man", in onesies. Fail. Maybe it works for the erudite, who have merely trained for combat but have never been in it up to their necks, deeper in the worst of it, much deeper actually, with nowhere to go but enemy territory in any direction. He loses a notch on this, if he is serious.
Oh, don't think I'm bitching behind his back. If I was still posting comments, I would have posted this there. Had to post it somewhere though, because it irked me. And yes, I pound Vox just like anyone else, when they shit out a loser turd. *bam* I hit the pope, I hit my mom, don't think there is anyone I won't nail. Including myself, if I find myself to be wrong. God is about the only one I won't hit. Even when I think He is wrong, I know it isn't Him so contemplate.
Gah! I've got a headache. Later.
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Vox just wrote a piece, about the pajama guy in the new Obamacare commercial. I hope he was joking. It just didn't sound like it. Talking about the pajama guy, who he says is a former IDF soldier as if that meant something, as someone to be respected for his service. Bruce Lee didn't mean a thing to me, a simple, or even top, IDF, or US soldier doesn't mean much. If I am sent for someone, I wouldn't have knocked on their door and asked them to fist fight. I would catch them with their pants down or their lights out, then finished their job, if possible. I don't get when people think being a warrior, even me as one, means a damned thing. That doesn't make someone... defense-able. I can literally kill most men you know with a few punches. If I fight for life, and know it going in, I can take a man out of competition in less time than a blink. I can even simply put him down but not kill him, in five seconds. I can do that without a blade or firearm. Add in one of those and I'm outright lethal to mass numbers of attackers or defenders. IDF does not impress. I don't impress me. I am not eternal. Even more? What I take I cannot return. Pathetic.
Then he suggests that the ad is genius. I hope he is, again, jesting. No matter how perfectly you design a fail joke to spring on attackers, if you have to explain it, you have failed. Why not just have Boy George do the schtick. He was said to have been a heck of a fighter. Fail. Same with using an IDF, or anyone "man", in onesies. Fail. Maybe it works for the erudite, who have merely trained for combat but have never been in it up to their necks, deeper in the worst of it, much deeper actually, with nowhere to go but enemy territory in any direction. He loses a notch on this, if he is serious.
Oh, don't think I'm bitching behind his back. If I was still posting comments, I would have posted this there. Had to post it somewhere though, because it irked me. And yes, I pound Vox just like anyone else, when they shit out a loser turd. *bam* I hit the pope, I hit my mom, don't think there is anyone I won't nail. Including myself, if I find myself to be wrong. God is about the only one I won't hit. Even when I think He is wrong, I know it isn't Him so contemplate.
Gah! I've got a headache. Later.
Haiku Monday - Survival
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As I said, I won't be competing. But I will still list who is up with what, and maybe write haiku on the topics for my own reasons. Serendipity is up, with the theme and rules. I am hoping by linking I won't... somehow become visible, or accessible. Or I will just do this more quietly.
I do like the theme. But I am not sure. I wrote a couple, and almost posted them, but they have been lost. The last two themes have been difficult. And I am so blue-collar, as a poet. I use small words, play fast and loose with the rules, and... yeah. Then again, I think some people are wrong in how they count syllables. Though, too, a Brit, Boer, Kiwi, or other, might have different pronunciations, or even counts. Or my dictionaries are wrong? People from another generation, or several generations back from me, have... a different take on grammar too. Combine a few of those things and you get what we got here recently. Anyway...
I'm thinking... this is a difficult theme.
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As I said, I won't be competing. But I will still list who is up with what, and maybe write haiku on the topics for my own reasons. Serendipity is up, with the theme and rules. I am hoping by linking I won't... somehow become visible, or accessible. Or I will just do this more quietly.
I do like the theme. But I am not sure. I wrote a couple, and almost posted them, but they have been lost. The last two themes have been difficult. And I am so blue-collar, as a poet. I use small words, play fast and loose with the rules, and... yeah. Then again, I think some people are wrong in how they count syllables. Though, too, a Brit, Boer, Kiwi, or other, might have different pronunciations, or even counts. Or my dictionaries are wrong? People from another generation, or several generations back from me, have... a different take on grammar too. Combine a few of those things and you get what we got here recently. Anyway...
I'm thinking... this is a difficult theme.
Sometimes
death is a device ~
with will - as have the living
which is stronger? choice
Alone in the Wilds
arm stuck under boulder
pocket knife, no help, mean split
sweat, blood, loss, but life
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| Click to read the story. |
My life
not hungry, must eat
don't want meds, must take, no choice
every day struggles
Yeah, early, I know.
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I've been scratching fleas for some time. I thought I would be nice and offer an extended invitation. But, no. I won't be commenting on blogs other than those two of you who have blogs, either. I was just getting 1,500 hits a day, but... I'm not sure they were legit. There were more Russians visiting than Americans. And various foreigners, from French, German, English, and the third-worlders. My guess is they have learned a way to work through blogger, or my computer through blogger, or something. But that isn't why I went private, just a nice bonus... if this works.
Too many people who read here took the right things wrong and the wrong things right, and perhaps any or all of it too seriously. Oh, sure, I mean what I write. But more in a general way, on many things. I say things in a very pointed way, but if I suggest someone jump off a cliff... I usually don't actually mean that. No, people just don't understand. My guess is that the snoops will figure a way in anyway. But they best not hit me with attitude about it or I have them clean to rights for snooping, and I will take that seriously.
Now, back to a diary. Thoughts, ramblings, thinking process, hopes, dreams, nightmares, the dark side, and the good. Just... a place to stretch out my mind and put the things that don't fit in 4-D "scientific" life. Lots of it in my life. I can't do much about it. I might well and truly be clinically insane, for all I know. Though I know psychologists haven't the faintest clue what they are talking about. Their education was over their heads to start, their own theory proves their own theorists wrong - right through the theories they themselves presented. Psychologists got to their place in the world by being leftists, not by being smart. That doesn't change the fact that I could be clinically insane, in a right proper clinic, of which there are none. Just... a thought to put in your pipe and smoke.
Oh? Don't look at me like that, Lucy. Best to look in the mirror and understand, if I am crazy... your gucking foofey. :)
Yeah, that was cutting in to my use of this blog as a place to run through things that just don't fit in text books, stretch the bible a hair by exploring through extrapolations, and such. I've had a long, weary, dusty, odd road. I don't know what it all means, and never will this side of the veil. I've seen a bit past, and have great hopes. My faith isn't faith, anymore, so much as solid, to me, certainty. God, heaven, hell, Satan, Christ... these are simply real. Angels, demons, nephilim, those with the Mark of Cain, also very real.
Yes... time to get back to what I do... think, tinker, toy with, deconstruct, build... destroy. All with an eye to discovering God's will, mind you. God must always, for me, be kept visible, close, and in mind and heart. I will not risk purgatory again, and I fear hell greatly, even only having heard whispers of it. Whispered as one used to whisper about mental institutions. I can't help others find their way, save perhaps, maybe, by trying to be a good example, in what actions I perform that are public. They have been told, they have been warned, they know. But they are busy. So be it. Either they find their own way or they don't. That isn't my area, for the most part.
And, I will consider the flirtations of younger women. No, it really isn't a game, not for her. If it probably also isn't what it might appear, probably. More, possibly, like the... love to an old, dying, but vivacious, patriarch. Or just surprised that an old man would have a form of Mohawk, be into the strangest of music, or such. Dunno, not for sure. Not going there anyway. Her father would have to almost suggest it, and she would have to be on board. Thankfully, I know that would never be the case, so I am safe. I think? Pray. But I can tinker with it, without causing all sorts of local bedlam. Here, in my "mind". Gah! Oh, I understand them being a bit tetchy... If I had a daughter, or if some other old man were... Yeah, I understand. But... my intent wasn't for them to... Never mind. Safe behind Dr. Frankenstein's castle walls... Back home, sort of.
Hmm, yes... My first free blog in a long time. Still, there is you all... You do worry me, a bit. But... so be it. Having a little worry... is a good thing. It's what friends and family are for! :)
Good night.
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I've been scratching fleas for some time. I thought I would be nice and offer an extended invitation. But, no. I won't be commenting on blogs other than those two of you who have blogs, either. I was just getting 1,500 hits a day, but... I'm not sure they were legit. There were more Russians visiting than Americans. And various foreigners, from French, German, English, and the third-worlders. My guess is they have learned a way to work through blogger, or my computer through blogger, or something. But that isn't why I went private, just a nice bonus... if this works.
Too many people who read here took the right things wrong and the wrong things right, and perhaps any or all of it too seriously. Oh, sure, I mean what I write. But more in a general way, on many things. I say things in a very pointed way, but if I suggest someone jump off a cliff... I usually don't actually mean that. No, people just don't understand. My guess is that the snoops will figure a way in anyway. But they best not hit me with attitude about it or I have them clean to rights for snooping, and I will take that seriously.
Now, back to a diary. Thoughts, ramblings, thinking process, hopes, dreams, nightmares, the dark side, and the good. Just... a place to stretch out my mind and put the things that don't fit in 4-D "scientific" life. Lots of it in my life. I can't do much about it. I might well and truly be clinically insane, for all I know. Though I know psychologists haven't the faintest clue what they are talking about. Their education was over their heads to start, their own theory proves their own theorists wrong - right through the theories they themselves presented. Psychologists got to their place in the world by being leftists, not by being smart. That doesn't change the fact that I could be clinically insane, in a right proper clinic, of which there are none. Just... a thought to put in your pipe and smoke.
Oh? Don't look at me like that, Lucy. Best to look in the mirror and understand, if I am crazy... your gucking foofey. :)
Yeah, that was cutting in to my use of this blog as a place to run through things that just don't fit in text books, stretch the bible a hair by exploring through extrapolations, and such. I've had a long, weary, dusty, odd road. I don't know what it all means, and never will this side of the veil. I've seen a bit past, and have great hopes. My faith isn't faith, anymore, so much as solid, to me, certainty. God, heaven, hell, Satan, Christ... these are simply real. Angels, demons, nephilim, those with the Mark of Cain, also very real.
Yes... time to get back to what I do... think, tinker, toy with, deconstruct, build... destroy. All with an eye to discovering God's will, mind you. God must always, for me, be kept visible, close, and in mind and heart. I will not risk purgatory again, and I fear hell greatly, even only having heard whispers of it. Whispered as one used to whisper about mental institutions. I can't help others find their way, save perhaps, maybe, by trying to be a good example, in what actions I perform that are public. They have been told, they have been warned, they know. But they are busy. So be it. Either they find their own way or they don't. That isn't my area, for the most part.
And, I will consider the flirtations of younger women. No, it really isn't a game, not for her. If it probably also isn't what it might appear, probably. More, possibly, like the... love to an old, dying, but vivacious, patriarch. Or just surprised that an old man would have a form of Mohawk, be into the strangest of music, or such. Dunno, not for sure. Not going there anyway. Her father would have to almost suggest it, and she would have to be on board. Thankfully, I know that would never be the case, so I am safe. I think? Pray. But I can tinker with it, without causing all sorts of local bedlam. Here, in my "mind". Gah! Oh, I understand them being a bit tetchy... If I had a daughter, or if some other old man were... Yeah, I understand. But... my intent wasn't for them to... Never mind. Safe behind Dr. Frankenstein's castle walls... Back home, sort of.
Hmm, yes... My first free blog in a long time. Still, there is you all... You do worry me, a bit. But... so be it. Having a little worry... is a good thing. It's what friends and family are for! :)
Good night.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
My last haiku contest and going private.
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I have enjoyed haiku. It fits. And, for the most part, I have enjoyed the company, for my part. But it is time to take my blog completely out of the public view. I have done what I thought would keep it private. I made it so that posts weren't found by web searches (supposedly), I tried not to advert, and when I comment, if I could avoid it I didn't add a link to my blog. I didn't sell, shooed off blog package sellers, save in another place where I blog, but that is more like a (loosely) conservative consortium of bloggers. It was only ever meant to be a diary. I couldn't, and still can't, imagine why anyone reads. Some believe the story when they should be believing else, or don't believe the story when it's true. Some don't like the truth, and don't want to understand their part, or mine, or why I would play a part. I am not a babysitter. I am not a negotiator. And this is my diary I have, mistakenly it seems, allowed others to read. No great worries, I even code things in my mind, from or for myself... depending, then code them further when they go to print. But coded code about esoteria... is too complex for most, and never quite comes out in forms that are pretty, even when decoded, unlocked, and actually understood. Actually, it is learning to do that which is the ugliest of it all. Learning to understand. I understand ivory towers, the pentagon, monasteries and nunneries, and such. It's an ugly business, life, at times. The world, at large, is not ready to understand, or even to begin understanding how to understand.
I will be staying public for about another week. If you read here, and want to continue doing so, email me. Some of you long-time readers, I won't ask why, I will just allow. But if I don't know you, I want to know why you wish to read. I am not asking for a 10-page essay, though that would be nice. *smirk* I neither need, nor want, your full name, social, and three contacts. I don't care. I am merely asking what your interest is. Curiosity? Because you disagree and want proof for the trial to hang me? You are a therapist and doing a case file? You are a hellion and want to figure out my defenses and attacks. Why are you reading here, and why should I let you continue to read here. I really don't care, on the one hand. I just need some sign of life and thought.
I have three, you know who you are, emails to add to my privacy profile. I will need a Google email address to add if you wish to join. If you have a google blog, or some other google account, you have a google email. Just look for it, if you didn't know. It's there somewhere. Heck, google it, or use some other search engine, to figure out how to find your email address. It's... in there.
I may track haiku, and do my own posts, but I won't be joining the game anymore. Simply because I won't be able to host to a private blog and blogging via another person's blog is... tedious at best. I can't change the questions if the answers are coming too fast and easy! Some of you are clever indeed. Yeah, I cheat. I also fight dirty, when I have to, or want to and must win. I even love dirty. But it's all in good clean fun. Well, that last is true if you come to some understandings, that is.
My secrets must, for the most part, remain just that. It's not that I can't take the light of day, merely that I don't prefer it when it isn't pure or clean or understanding of some things that are true. Well, and the light of day can't take me, not man's weak light. Let those who seek, find. I find it in real life, as... much as that is possible.
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Haiku Monday ~ (A Twist of) Fate
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N. Hatch is up with the contest and theme for this week here. The theme is quite the mind twister. I am so very tired, with much to do yet... Then again, I don't think I will be able to get to much. As usual of late. Especially after getting out today. *zap* So... I'll try to comply. Now. Wouch! The woman might be a noob to haiku, but a) she won, b) she does research so deeply that for my part I am thinking a root canal would be preferable, and c) she got some glitter to her. I'll say it again. Wouch!
Hmm... the theme... that is ticklish, intricate, not for hammers... probably. Tweezers, a microscope or telescope (a big one), a scalpel, perhaps an particle accelerator, and at most a jewelers hammer as might be used to cut a potentially perfect giant raw diamond. Well, and perhaps a few other things, of the mind mind you. Yes, tricky. Let me stop... procrastinating with fancy notions and... take a look. The limit is two, so... here.
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N. Hatch is up with the contest and theme for this week here. The theme is quite the mind twister. I am so very tired, with much to do yet... Then again, I don't think I will be able to get to much. As usual of late. Especially after getting out today. *zap* So... I'll try to comply. Now. Wouch! The woman might be a noob to haiku, but a) she won, b) she does research so deeply that for my part I am thinking a root canal would be preferable, and c) she got some glitter to her. I'll say it again. Wouch!
Hmm... the theme... that is ticklish, intricate, not for hammers... probably. Tweezers, a microscope or telescope (a big one), a scalpel, perhaps an particle accelerator, and at most a jewelers hammer as might be used to cut a potentially perfect giant raw diamond. Well, and perhaps a few other things, of the mind mind you. Yes, tricky. Let me stop... procrastinating with fancy notions and... take a look. The limit is two, so... here.
True Story
he ran, lifted, svelte
he ate right, he lived well, tops
exercise killed him
'Nother True Story :p
beautiful berries
destroyed by those awful birds ~
seed in new places
I am writing more, but just for here. Two is the limit, and for good reason. Besides, I have noted that if I go past, say, four or five I begin repeating anyway. So... these are just for here and me, really.
there once was a man
from Nantucket who could not
rhyme- just took some time
I am writing more, but just for here. Two is the limit, and for good reason. Besides, I have noted that if I go past, say, four or five I begin repeating anyway. So... these are just for here and me, really.
Some Are Slower Than Others
from Nantucket who could not
rhyme- just took some time
Twist Indeed
the sword unsheathed -shickkk
the cut swift, judicious, clean
honor saved life lost
mother short ~ dad tall
mix and match ~ who gets which genes
tall(er) - is that good?
Sometimes it is easy.
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Sometimes, though, staying up to kick the clock around is akin to a knee in the quads, and at speed. I made it to SLC the other day, and was up all day. Yesterday? Wow, I can't remember. I think I woke at 15:30 or so. But when did I go to bed? Nothing. No idea. Not sure if I posted, I'll check. The goal is simple. To stay awake as long into the day as I can. There is an event Sunday I would like to attend. I may have to tripfuck my system to make it. I see it, like a knight sees the target for his lance at 40 horse paces but coming fast. Faster. Too fast, when it is time to hit, to know. Either the training sees the tip to the mark or it will be missed because the human system simply isn't that consciously capable. Time will tell.
Ah, right, medicines have been missed the last few days. The trip messed me up, being that it was technically during my sleep cycle. And then I tripped today from exhaustion due to the appointment and drive. When I wake in the "morning" I will start again. It happens. A few days isn't too big of a deal. I have a working scale now, again. I found my diabetes tester. And the area for taking my bp is pretty much operational. I need to start checking those things, at least a few times a week. Every day checking is nonsense.
I did wash some, perhaps have, of the dishes, pots, and pans tonight, then promptly dirtied a pot and dish. All good. I get to cook when I clean. When I finish all dishes, I can take several meats out to thaw. No use trying to use that as incentive because it fails and meat goes bad. Too expensive to goof with that. Laundry, dishes, medicine, stats... that is the goal for "tomorrow" (technically today, but there will be a sleep cycle in there... when I crash). Actually... I don't think I'm going to make it much longer. Gah!
Good "night".
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Sometimes, though, staying up to kick the clock around is akin to a knee in the quads, and at speed. I made it to SLC the other day, and was up all day. Yesterday? Wow, I can't remember. I think I woke at 15:30 or so. But when did I go to bed? Nothing. No idea. Not sure if I posted, I'll check. The goal is simple. To stay awake as long into the day as I can. There is an event Sunday I would like to attend. I may have to tripfuck my system to make it. I see it, like a knight sees the target for his lance at 40 horse paces but coming fast. Faster. Too fast, when it is time to hit, to know. Either the training sees the tip to the mark or it will be missed because the human system simply isn't that consciously capable. Time will tell.
Ah, right, medicines have been missed the last few days. The trip messed me up, being that it was technically during my sleep cycle. And then I tripped today from exhaustion due to the appointment and drive. When I wake in the "morning" I will start again. It happens. A few days isn't too big of a deal. I have a working scale now, again. I found my diabetes tester. And the area for taking my bp is pretty much operational. I need to start checking those things, at least a few times a week. Every day checking is nonsense.
I did wash some, perhaps have, of the dishes, pots, and pans tonight, then promptly dirtied a pot and dish. All good. I get to cook when I clean. When I finish all dishes, I can take several meats out to thaw. No use trying to use that as incentive because it fails and meat goes bad. Too expensive to goof with that. Laundry, dishes, medicine, stats... that is the goal for "tomorrow" (technically today, but there will be a sleep cycle in there... when I crash). Actually... I don't think I'm going to make it much longer. Gah!
Good "night".
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Trying to push over the day, since it slipped anyway.
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Between something slipping away from me, an early appointment with uncertainty surrounding it, and some other things, I saw that days were slipping, so I kicked that ball for all it was worth. I have moved my schedule, in a few days, half a day. Oh, there will be a price. It is just like when you get a treat, and want to conserve but don't, and you end up with a bellyache. Yeah, well, I get something more mental, call it psychic dissonance. A reverberation from the change in time. It's like stacking sleep schedules for each hour, as if they were the regular day and for forever, onto each other, then compressing them into a psychic cookie and eating it. Ego reflux, when I do it too fast. Still, that's my goal. Hmm, I wonder if a glass of ether milk might help?
While waking, at about 15:00, I started to wake anyway, I checked the time. It was actually 13:08. But later I realized... I only dreamed looking at the clock, even if that was the right time. I can't see my clock that way unless I was to stand on my bed and look down. I assure you, I was not standing on my bed when doing that. I don't stand on beds. I just don't. It always bugs me when I dream something, and it's right. I didn't actually wake up until about 13:12, so... yeah... I suspect that was the time. Just weird stuff Doom must endure. I don't even try to guess how it all works these days.
What to do today? Dunno. But after returning from the teeth shop, I did put the dishes to a soak, so a revisit of those might be good. And, perhaps, finishing up a bit of laundry and doing a little work in the kitchen wouldn't be all bad. Not much, I just don't have it. But with just a bit going, I will use it before I shut down again, if that is going to happen. I'm just in the doldrums and I can't tell when, or if, the wind will pick up at any moment. But if there is even a slight breeze I desparately try to set my sails. I will use every ounce of energy I have even if it moves me the equivalent of a football field length in an ocean sized playing field. I want to get to shore.
No, no beer. No Vodka. Not even a snifter of scotch. I just didn't have it in me to sip. The want was there, the will was not. If both are there, a glass or two. If one is overpowering, perhaps a case or fifth or both and then some. No, not this time, or now. I actually avoid the stuff anymore, when I can. Usually. It has it's uses though.
Later.
.
Between something slipping away from me, an early appointment with uncertainty surrounding it, and some other things, I saw that days were slipping, so I kicked that ball for all it was worth. I have moved my schedule, in a few days, half a day. Oh, there will be a price. It is just like when you get a treat, and want to conserve but don't, and you end up with a bellyache. Yeah, well, I get something more mental, call it psychic dissonance. A reverberation from the change in time. It's like stacking sleep schedules for each hour, as if they were the regular day and for forever, onto each other, then compressing them into a psychic cookie and eating it. Ego reflux, when I do it too fast. Still, that's my goal. Hmm, I wonder if a glass of ether milk might help?
While waking, at about 15:00, I started to wake anyway, I checked the time. It was actually 13:08. But later I realized... I only dreamed looking at the clock, even if that was the right time. I can't see my clock that way unless I was to stand on my bed and look down. I assure you, I was not standing on my bed when doing that. I don't stand on beds. I just don't. It always bugs me when I dream something, and it's right. I didn't actually wake up until about 13:12, so... yeah... I suspect that was the time. Just weird stuff Doom must endure. I don't even try to guess how it all works these days.
What to do today? Dunno. But after returning from the teeth shop, I did put the dishes to a soak, so a revisit of those might be good. And, perhaps, finishing up a bit of laundry and doing a little work in the kitchen wouldn't be all bad. Not much, I just don't have it. But with just a bit going, I will use it before I shut down again, if that is going to happen. I'm just in the doldrums and I can't tell when, or if, the wind will pick up at any moment. But if there is even a slight breeze I desparately try to set my sails. I will use every ounce of energy I have even if it moves me the equivalent of a football field length in an ocean sized playing field. I want to get to shore.
No, no beer. No Vodka. Not even a snifter of scotch. I just didn't have it in me to sip. The want was there, the will was not. If both are there, a glass or two. If one is overpowering, perhaps a case or fifth or both and then some. No, not this time, or now. I actually avoid the stuff anymore, when I can. Usually. It has it's uses though.
Later.
Organic vegetarian diets, with a side of holistic living.
.
.
Yeah, that isn't my plan. Ever seen a picture of East Germany, before and after. Russia has been third worldish nearly it's whole history. It just that, at one time, most everywhere was like that. The West worked their way out, Russia, while at times on the upward side of the third world, never did succeed in advancing, so you can't really compare. Anyway, if you want to see the difference between two 51 year old women who choose totally different lifestyles, and compare the outcomes, go here.
I did have to laugh. At first I thought the first photo was showing that Ann Coulter had been tricking us, or had somehow suddenly aged 20 years. It was a fun little notion, not that I don't care for Ms. Coulter, nor do I particularly favor her. I suppose she is as conservative as a woman can get, or was, or... whatever. Especially a single woman. But... can a conservative woman truly be an old maid? Never mind, word and thought scrambles as I head to sleep.
.
Yeah, that isn't my plan. Ever seen a picture of East Germany, before and after. Russia has been third worldish nearly it's whole history. It just that, at one time, most everywhere was like that. The West worked their way out, Russia, while at times on the upward side of the third world, never did succeed in advancing, so you can't really compare. Anyway, if you want to see the difference between two 51 year old women who choose totally different lifestyles, and compare the outcomes, go here.
I did have to laugh. At first I thought the first photo was showing that Ann Coulter had been tricking us, or had somehow suddenly aged 20 years. It was a fun little notion, not that I don't care for Ms. Coulter, nor do I particularly favor her. I suppose she is as conservative as a woman can get, or was, or... whatever. Especially a single woman. But... can a conservative woman truly be an old maid? Never mind, word and thought scrambles as I head to sleep.
Mood music.
.
.
It's not been a bad day, or good. Not prophetic or insightful. Just a day. And, no, this doesn't mean I am down or bummed, or pleased and happy. It's just, after a minor roller coaster of a day, from giddy to slightly ticklish, this is where I am at this moment.
I will never suggest war is grand. It isn't good. It has it's purposes, if those meanings can be lost to us as participants or spectators, at times. But there is an ugly elegance, a course high art, to the function, and even form, of war. Like anything rich, and war being a blood sausage of mind and soul it is quite rich, smaller bites and rare consumption is advised. There is, for this like all things, a time for it. For now, for me, here, just... thoughts.
If you like it sweet. If you have a fret of blood. If hard things are not your style... Go play elsewhere. You have been warned.
.
It's not been a bad day, or good. Not prophetic or insightful. Just a day. And, no, this doesn't mean I am down or bummed, or pleased and happy. It's just, after a minor roller coaster of a day, from giddy to slightly ticklish, this is where I am at this moment.
I will never suggest war is grand. It isn't good. It has it's purposes, if those meanings can be lost to us as participants or spectators, at times. But there is an ugly elegance, a course high art, to the function, and even form, of war. Like anything rich, and war being a blood sausage of mind and soul it is quite rich, smaller bites and rare consumption is advised. There is, for this like all things, a time for it. For now, for me, here, just... thoughts.
If you like it sweet. If you have a fret of blood. If hard things are not your style... Go play elsewhere. You have been warned.
Monday, December 16, 2013
I just read.
.
.
Peter O'toole died Saturday. I am trying to find the hour of his death. My post was written at 2:25, or posted at that time, Saturday. Now, there would be a huge translation of time, due to him dying in London, but... I can assure you I did not know, through mechanical means. Nor, honestly, did I suspect. Actually, that post wrote itself. The pieces just fell into place. I didn't honestly go seeking pieces for it. I didn't want to write it, either. I can't explain that part to you. I don't always like my work. Coincidence, of course.
By the way, while I can play other music and vids, I seem to have a great problem playing those first two videos. There is some sort of interference. I also had my security suites turned off on my computer and had to do a little techy detective work to get them working again. Not sure what is going on, but... that post seems to have hit some nerves. All I'm saying there. I thought it might be my post, but even going to YouTube, those videos would play very erratically. People don't like some things. I finally downloaded the vids, so I can... replay at my leisure. I wonder if anyone else has problems with those vids?
Just... grumbling in, and at, the dark. Later.
.
Peter O'toole died Saturday. I am trying to find the hour of his death. My post was written at 2:25, or posted at that time, Saturday. Now, there would be a huge translation of time, due to him dying in London, but... I can assure you I did not know, through mechanical means. Nor, honestly, did I suspect. Actually, that post wrote itself. The pieces just fell into place. I didn't honestly go seeking pieces for it. I didn't want to write it, either. I can't explain that part to you. I don't always like my work. Coincidence, of course.
By the way, while I can play other music and vids, I seem to have a great problem playing those first two videos. There is some sort of interference. I also had my security suites turned off on my computer and had to do a little techy detective work to get them working again. Not sure what is going on, but... that post seems to have hit some nerves. All I'm saying there. I thought it might be my post, but even going to YouTube, those videos would play very erratically. People don't like some things. I finally downloaded the vids, so I can... replay at my leisure. I wonder if anyone else has problems with those vids?
Just... grumbling in, and at, the dark. Later.
Yeah, well... I did make it.
.
.
Pushing it. I did everything needed to get there. Laundry was... in dire straights, sort of. That has mostly been managed. The trash and recycling wasn't terribly necessary, save to straighten up in here a bit. Well, and to have extra space for my neighbor. I am almost sure they will need it. But that was important, and he said so. Hey, give me orders. When I can follow them, it does add impetus. The girls were fed, extra I think but they were begging. The cat litter pan needing to be changed was at least emptied. I was pushing things and on too little sleep, plus hoping I had heard the woman correctly.
The appointment was, indeed, at 7:30. I made it with just 15 minutes to spare. But driving was relaxing today, in spite of having to stop for gas, and never knowing how traffic will be, so not being able to be sure about timing. Traffic was perfect until 6:30 exactly. Then the low load interstate turned into the middle of the Indy 500 pack. I was too tired to fuss. I just picked a moderately middling speed lane and followed. I forgot my tooth brush and paste, of course. But the ladies at the front desk had a few supplies when I queried.
Teeth? Fine. I was told my gums and teeth are very good for my age, especially for my health. The same song and dance about quitting chewing, but I told them my brother quit and is losing his teeth. He says there is no scientific data correlating the two. Yeah, well, there isn't scientific data correlating parents always being right either, but it's best not to test that. And, actually, there is zero physical evidence for God. Oh, there is stuff in there... it's in there... but it's not direct proof or evidence. You can't see it without, sort of, looking at the big picture... through a microscope. Do enough slides and... pop. But I didn't argue. He has been indoctrinated and it is all he knows. Yes, I believe there is a direct, substantial, set of data. What isn't hidden isn't researched. Still...
Oh, and I have been brushing twice a day. For the last few weeks. I don't, usually, brush. I really didn't want him to... say more about what I should be doing. He was a nice enough fellow. No complaints. Though I was a little surprised that he knew about my other health issues. Usually they segregate information, or used to do so. He is having me come in for a cleaning. There is some plaque, but only a bit and on the backs of my teeth. Considering I haven't been seen for several years, and don't brush? Come on, that's extraordinary. Especially with a bad heart. Still... I do worry about the teeth. As with animals, when those go... it's a bad sign... or good one if you are old enough. Outliving your teeth? :p
I could only do one shopping stop on the way home, and grab a bite to eat. I am done. I will have to sack out for a bit. I would like it to be a nap but I don't think so. I will set the alarm to be up for supper, and if I can rise before that, cool. But... I pushed. Now my body is pushing back.
Good night.
.
Pushing it. I did everything needed to get there. Laundry was... in dire straights, sort of. That has mostly been managed. The trash and recycling wasn't terribly necessary, save to straighten up in here a bit. Well, and to have extra space for my neighbor. I am almost sure they will need it. But that was important, and he said so. Hey, give me orders. When I can follow them, it does add impetus. The girls were fed, extra I think but they were begging. The cat litter pan needing to be changed was at least emptied. I was pushing things and on too little sleep, plus hoping I had heard the woman correctly.
The appointment was, indeed, at 7:30. I made it with just 15 minutes to spare. But driving was relaxing today, in spite of having to stop for gas, and never knowing how traffic will be, so not being able to be sure about timing. Traffic was perfect until 6:30 exactly. Then the low load interstate turned into the middle of the Indy 500 pack. I was too tired to fuss. I just picked a moderately middling speed lane and followed. I forgot my tooth brush and paste, of course. But the ladies at the front desk had a few supplies when I queried.
Teeth? Fine. I was told my gums and teeth are very good for my age, especially for my health. The same song and dance about quitting chewing, but I told them my brother quit and is losing his teeth. He says there is no scientific data correlating the two. Yeah, well, there isn't scientific data correlating parents always being right either, but it's best not to test that. And, actually, there is zero physical evidence for God. Oh, there is stuff in there... it's in there... but it's not direct proof or evidence. You can't see it without, sort of, looking at the big picture... through a microscope. Do enough slides and... pop. But I didn't argue. He has been indoctrinated and it is all he knows. Yes, I believe there is a direct, substantial, set of data. What isn't hidden isn't researched. Still...
Oh, and I have been brushing twice a day. For the last few weeks. I don't, usually, brush. I really didn't want him to... say more about what I should be doing. He was a nice enough fellow. No complaints. Though I was a little surprised that he knew about my other health issues. Usually they segregate information, or used to do so. He is having me come in for a cleaning. There is some plaque, but only a bit and on the backs of my teeth. Considering I haven't been seen for several years, and don't brush? Come on, that's extraordinary. Especially with a bad heart. Still... I do worry about the teeth. As with animals, when those go... it's a bad sign... or good one if you are old enough. Outliving your teeth? :p
I could only do one shopping stop on the way home, and grab a bite to eat. I am done. I will have to sack out for a bit. I would like it to be a nap but I don't think so. I will set the alarm to be up for supper, and if I can rise before that, cool. But... I pushed. Now my body is pushing back.
Good night.
Yeah, mostly.
.
.
Wow, not bad. I got the trash and recycling inside to the bins, plus what was in there from a few days ago. Got those to the curb. Took a shower even "earlier", did three loads of laundry. And, while a bit past 4:30, more like 5:00, I'll be heading out now. I'm as ready as I can be. Oh... best take a tooth brush and tooth paste. I like to brush before going in. Just... trying to play nice. It's going to be a long day. I will be up until supper arrives. I best get hopping. Good day.
.
Wow, not bad. I got the trash and recycling inside to the bins, plus what was in there from a few days ago. Got those to the curb. Took a shower even "earlier", did three loads of laundry. And, while a bit past 4:30, more like 5:00, I'll be heading out now. I'm as ready as I can be. Oh... best take a tooth brush and tooth paste. I like to brush before going in. Just... trying to play nice. It's going to be a long day. I will be up until supper arrives. I best get hopping. Good day.
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