Wednesday?

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No clue where the week went.  Last I remembered I was hoping to get started Monday. 

I've got a minor headache from recent psychic trips.  Don't mix tnt with fertilizer.  I woke at a real time this morning, slept well last night, and am sort of on track.  I showered this morning.  Rested as was needed.  Then just finished setting up and taking medication.  It looks like I have enough medicine to last a couple of months more.  I won't need to order until next setup.  I best order the insulin, however.  That would be cutting it too close.  Just... not right now.  I have another thing on my mind and can only do, or think about, one thing at a time at the moment.

If I can get some gumption back after fussing, I hope to head in to town.  I groceries, something that will work as a full or partial double boiler, and something at the hardware store.  I could just use a tin can for the double boiler.  But for larger projects it won't work.  And there are some other drawbacks.  I won't be going expensive, just functional.  Oh, and a meal, and inviting my friend along.  It's been a while.  Can't do much, but if I can get him out for a bit, that's enough.  Oh, and I best check the mail.  One of the final, or final big pieces, of one of my projects, should be in.

I am almost feeling human again, as human as I can feel that is.  Still a little tired.  Still not quite up to snuff.  But not bad.  That handful of anicin and a meal will help.  I would grill something, but first I need to make some of those firestarters.  Egg carton, paraffin, and laundry lint, which will probably be the first thing I do with the double boiler.  A little hum-drum, but working up to a bit more.  A bit of music then I will see if I am fit to travel.  Later.

Pacified.

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It seems, after a long bout between the two most potent aspects of myself, they have worked it out between them for now.  I can't be sure when I went to bed.  16:30-18:30, I think.  I was completely lost in those worlds after 13:00, 13:30 maybe.  I know.  I had my phone right near me, and received a bunch of calls, but didn't realize any of them.  They might have been later, haven't checked the times they were logged yet.

Sleep was quite good.  If I dreamed, those were lost when I stirred, and woke.  Nothing but sleep, so far as memory serves.  I woke at about 4:30.  Feeling good, really, and ready to do some things.  I need to set up my medicines first thing, then maybe call about anything that is running shy.  I definitely need to reorder insulin.  I think I have the bottle opened this month, and one remaining.  I need to keep up on that.  That... little misstep was a bit more harsh than I like to realize.

Oh, I best feed the girls.  So far they have just let me know they have claws, and begged.  All fair enough.  I just had to spend some time waking before being able to leave my chair.  If I take too much longer, they will find ways to "accidentally" scratch me.  While I hate being scratched, I... sort of favor their little tricks and charms.  They don't have much to work with, but don't mind using what they have.  While they shouldn't have to beg, they also shouldn't beg, not until a reasonable time has passed.  It's a... continuing negotiation.  I like that they keep me on my toes and I am compelled to maintain order.  A balance.

No call to anything this morning.  Just a... bit of nothingness though with potential for something.  Later.

Not bad.

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I made it to 17:00.  Ghosting on rage, sort of.  No worries, it looks like the two things kept balance, as I thought they might.  I was also able to visit shades from the past.  Odd how, in certain moments, everything becomes a bit clearer, or per object.  I still don't know, at the moment, the details.  Only some faces and good memories.  I may know tomorrow, or in my dreams.  I will forget soon after putting it all together.  I can't be sure what I see is quite right, but then, who can when it comes to memory?  I just wish it all had more substance, to my mind, than water.  Whatever I try to grab, hold... simply flows away quickly, in time.

My eyes hurt, just a bit, from the odd sleep patterns, mostly.  Not napping this morning is part of it, but then I couldn't.  I am hoping the other side is available to help me get into town, soon.  I don't want that full blast, though, either.  It is just as problematic as nothingness, with half the fat (a bad thing, in my book).  Just a bit more tilt toward the wild and I might be able to figure a shopping trip.

Good night.

Transition.

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A time, a potential, I can't quite tell yet.

While one part of my body is shutting down, another part is waking.  They almost seem to be balancing each other.  Meanwhile I am getting a headache from the strain.

A simple song that probably doesn't mean much.

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It's a reflection of a sentiment, the remnants of shadows only remaining in memory.  I may not be toast but I'm not cream and spice, either.  Never mind.  Just... passing on a thought as I drift in my own little way.  No real message, as I suggested, just a feeling.  Not even a bad one, or a good one, I guess.

Does anyone have...

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a blue remote controlled truck, extra batteries, and a lot of time?  I am just trying to figure out how to get to town.  I am out of some things that I really like.  When I am toast it doesn't matter.  I can't know, or care.  But when I am simply hung up, as I am now, then I notice what I am missing.  Oh, about the request?  I saw a vid that... got me thinking is all.  The video got my gall worked up, a bit, too.  If a turtle can do it, I should be able!  Well... it's the notion.  And that turtle is seriously booking.  There is hope!

Toil, tricks, and goals.

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I couldn't make it out yesterday, or do much.  I was able to stay awake until 15:30, but was, essentially, blind deaf and dumb for the last four hours, give or take.  When my sleep patterns break, there are two ways they can fracture.  The first is through confusing day and night.  This is difficult to repair, but it isn't all that complicated.  It is just a matter of 'doing it', which takes time and sometimes great pains and effort.  The other way my sleep cycle can fail involves sleeping in very odd cycles.  Involving up to three sleep cycles in a day, to one sleep cycle every few days.  I am at two sleep cycles per day.  It rips up usable awake time, but sleep hits like a hammer.  No choice.  I can, as I did today, stretch and pull.  But function goes to zero.  And there is a risk, in that haze, that my awake time will begin to stretch too far, if I push too hard or lose consciousness too fully while awake.  Days, weeks, even months of haze can begin cycling if I do that.

The only thing I can do in that last type of break, is to attempt to push, gently, and figure out some control.  As is, pushing my afternoons is one part of it.  The other part is trying to sleep, or nap, in such a way that I can maintain the push and day cycle as much as is possible.  One might liken it to creating a firebreak nap.  Today, going to bed at 17:30, then waking at about 1:30, I will try to be awake until 4:00, maybe 5:00, then attempt a nap of two to four hours, rising just in time to get a nearly full day in, as long as I can reasonably push it.  I had hoped to be to an event at 19:00 tonight, but that won't be possible.  I might be able to push it, but I would neither be in any kind of shape to be out, and I would probably mess up my pattern.  Thankfully, save when medicine becomes an issue, or the weather is changing quickly, my breaks in sleep patterns have become much rarer.  Actually, having dinner arrive three days a week, in a certain time window, over time, has given me a pattern I can follow.  As a lighthouse beacon, over probably a year, I learned when to surface and be ready.  And, mostly, I can.

Probably seeming madness to some.  But this is what I have.  Being studious, if too often lost, more so in the past but continuing a bit, it has been a tangle to work with.  My health sometimes allows little else, but it is something.  A struggle.  Something to work on.  So I do.  It is satisfying when I, eventually, tame the beast enough for a smoother ride.  I just happen to be in, not on, that beast.  Later.

The nap helped.

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Perhaps limiting sleep helped too.  I've tried the alarm before, recently, it just hasn't been effective.  I suppose that it worked... actually, I woke before the alarm.  Just a few hours down.  Though knowing the alarm would go off, and wanting to be up and getting up, shows a return of some control.  Crazy lately, like your steering wheel simply failing, or more like it doing what you request, but not in a timely fashion.  I did add five cc's of insulin last night.  That may have helped with the rudder this morning.  I simply don't know, not for sure.

I can't swear to it, but I am beginning to plan a run into town.  It might be today, it might be a week off, or more.  I simply don't know.  I need to do some shopping, and get a card out, and check the mail.  More than that, I simply want to escape the dungeon.  It isn't a horrible place, it just gets old after a while.  As I said though, there hasn't been any lasting pain for several days, my heart seems to be working normally again, my organs, muscles, and bones seem to have solidified.  That slow heartbeat was spooky, lasted about a week, going from bad to worse.  A pump, every two to three seconds, even if you don't know a thing about medicine, should be rare and odd enough to spook even the most level headed folk.  There is always the doctor, but since the VA doesn't reimburse, and the local hospital refuses to try, I can't trust going in.  And I can't drive two or three hours in that kind of shape.

I see the Ferguson incident is proving exactly as I suspected.  The cops actually did need that equipment, and this is an example of why they should have it.  If they use it poorly, they won't keep it.  Though, to a degree, this is an example of poor usage.  Having it, but not using it, is a waste of good money.  Perhaps, if this is just going to be a waste of money, then it shouldn't go forward.  I understand, if they had used the equipment, they would have had even more trouble with the local third-worlders.  But third-worlders cannot be negotiated with.  And some point, law will have to do what it has to do or close up shop and let them live as they will.  I think stripping citizenship and repatriating said miscreants to whoever will take them in, for a small fee, would send a much clearer message.  Some things cannot be tolerated for the whole.  Barbaric tribalism is one of those things.

They rally, as they often do, around criminals.  They hide guns in some incidents, they come forth as lying witnesses, and they do this as typically as most other people come forth and risk death to tell the truth.  They are just the opposite of what is wanted for citizenship.  The usual types, Dems of course, but now Libertarians, are knee-jerk jumping to their side.  Innocent until proven guilty is a two way street, and Libertarians had better decide, and quickly, which side of the street they are going to be on.  Currently, it isn't my side of the street from what I have seen of this event.  They were just about to suss control from the lost Republican party.  They have shot themselves in the foot on this one.  If they are simply chaos mongers and trouble makers, I would rather have pure business in charge.  Get up to speed on this one, and don't do it again.

Enough about that.  After nagging on other pages, I figured I should spit something out here.  There you go.  Later.

I just can't tell.

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There is some sort of problem.  Is it the weather, is the thing with medicine still lingering, is it something else.  Dreams of the past, portents of a possible future, the complexity of life disproven by the very required simplicity I am currently living.  So much and yet so little.  It isn't a bad time, it just isn't a time grounded in the known.  Yes, back to bed.  I have no choice.

In times like these, I can't help but think events from the past have much more affect on the present than might be understood, even by me.  I have gone places, seen things, eclipsing life itself.  Being social, but moving as often as I have, I have known so many people, experienced so many things and places.  While not quite as literal as the movie Ground Hog Day, arrangements can be created to nearly recreate past situations and explore them.  Looking for better, worse, or other sorts of results.  And I did, consciously at times, unconsciously other times.  And with a host of actors who had never played the role before, but pretty much knew the lines, it was a simple thing.  A swirl, as I sleep, wake, dream, remember, and consider the future.

And yet, sometimes, I have to wonder... just how much is the past coming forward, and some of what happened in the past being the truth of events.  Some would say my sanity is loosely hinged.  A possibility, of course.  Simply, there isn't an objective measure, much as being far out to sea, with nothing else in sight, trying to navigate.  There are places, and events, that defy explanation.  Too many have seen to outright deny, but in a condition where understandings are obviously questionable.  While I am almost sure I am not in purgatory, I am not always sure where I seem to be is where I am.  Then again, I don't think one needs to pass through death to realize this.  That just adds to the... doubts about here and now.  I would lend you my shoes.  I simply don't think wearing them would help you.  It probably isn't possible.  As I fall, again, into sleep, my mind begins to wander.  A song I heard, with a video, bearing some resonance on the topic.

No idea.

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I can't be sure when I went to bed.  It was shortly after that last post, but between this and that, I honestly can't tell, after publishing, when they system actually says it gets published.  I'll check with this post, and today.  The problem is, that has varied in the past.  I sort of lost track of following up on it, though I believe it has just changed from a one hour difference of time stamp to real time, to a two hour delay.  I tried to change my time code, but they knew where the input was from.  My guess is, when the governments wants the ability to shut off information, they are actually pretty good about it.  Too bad they can't try for honest governance with the same zeal.

In any case, I woke at nearly 1:00.  I simply couldn't stay asleep.  Dreams, I know that, but nothing that stuck.  I must admit, the dreams I have had, I have enjoyed, for the most part.  I am nearly certain that, even if some of the data was skewed, or more about possibility, that there was a great deal of memory involved in them.  The one I keep digging at is the one in Africa.  I'm trying to... place... some of that.  And, while I have associated with a group like that, and as a single milspec somehow in contact with such a group, I don't think we traveled together.  Or not, to any of it.  Dunno, but it's been on my mind.

I am feeling better, just not doing much better.  I have to figure this out.  I have a whole bunch of things that need tended.  Having all of the time in the world doesn't help if you can't get out of the chair.  At least I have gotten out of bed.  That took a lot of years.  I was in bed more than I am now even when I was in engineering school.  I am truly surprised that didn't kill me, given the true nature of my condition.  I don't think it would have been the physical part of it.  While that was brutal, my body seems to do what it can and if it runs a little too hard, to just shut it down as it needs.  But the mental stress.  Sleeping for a month, and waking with only a few days to prep for midterms or finals, barely being awake enough to take in the data, and long days and night of study.  Engineering school is perpetual cramming as is, toss in triple-dip cramming, and the pressure asserted for perfection, and... yeah.

But, actually, I enjoyed even that.  If it was my own money, and no worries about getting a job, I'd still be in school.  Though I think I would try to live on campus, somehow.  So that making it to class wouldn't require a drive over iced streets, and group studies would be easier to set up and attend.  Time is tight for engineering students.  A double degree in electrical and mechanical engineering, though a few others might be interesting, then a degree in either differential equations or calculus.  On to a masters in technology mathematics, while getting a degree in philosophy on the side.  And, finally, a ph.d. in the combined field of engineering.  Yeah, something like that.  Well, that would be the goal.  So, of course, sitting around is rather... harsh.  I might even, through that, seek sword training, the official training.  But, off the record, as usual.  Knowing I will probably never hold a job means I can't ask the VA to fund my romp, even at the lower levels, and I can't afford it.  And there would be no guarantee that I could make it.

I am feeling good, and rather awake.  I simply doubt if I will be awake all that long.  Four to six hours, perhaps, though I may be able to push through to 13:00 as I did today... before taking a nap until 17:00, closer to 18:00 actually.  Crazy sleep pattern and I have little control.  It isn't getting better, but there is no pain.  I'll keep working on it.

A joke?

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A man lived a... questionable life.  He never slowed down or repented, living hard and wrong until one day he realized that yesterday was his last day.  As he woke to his future, a terrifying creature stood before him.  Come with me, he was told.  You have been bad on a number of fronts, so you get to choose which hell you will suffer.  Taken a bit aback, but somehow compelled to follow, the man started thinking that... at least he had some choice.

The first door the creature stopped in front of was hot.  The creature opened the door to people surrounded by flames, perpetually burning and healing and burning more.  How about this room, the creature asked?  May I see the other choices before choosing?  Of course, suggested the creature.  No rush.  Onto the next door.  Opened, it revealed people standing chest deep in muck, sewage, all sorts of nasty watery... stuff.  I would like to see what else may be chosen, first.  Knowing this would be forever, he wanted to choose as wisely within his lot.  This is the final choice, suggested the beastly creature, as he opened the next door.  A room of people being crushed by falling rocks, healing then continuing to take damage.

The man decided, quickly, before he lost the option.  I choose the room where people are standing in the muck!  And so that was his lot.  He entered the room, and since conversation wasn't allowed, merely stood there.  Foul, but relatively painless.  Just as he was settling in for eternity, a voice boomed, as if over a poorly constructed loudspeaker.  It said, "Okay, break is over, back on your hands!".

Well... back on my hands, indeed.  Bedtime, again, already.  Never mind.  Good night?

Crashing, but pushing.

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I'm trying to push through so that tomorrow I might be able to attend something.  It gets thin in the higher stratospheres of effort.  I need to be awake until, perhaps 13:00, maybe a little later.  Medicine isn't helping or hurting, at this point.  It is merely struggling through another crazy Saturday, trying to get days and nights back on track.  As things go, I doubt if I will make my goal.  Sometimes, as I have suggested, it is in the struggle that all that can be realized is obtained.  And, so...

Not much else.  Hmm, I think I am feeding the girls, roughly, in the real morning and real evening.  I have been tending their litter box.  I can tell when I do that well.  For whatever reason, when that is kept clean, they stay immaculately clean to the touch.  When they fails they begin getting a bit dusty.  They are currently pristine.  I have been trying to eat well, and I do eat something pretty much daily.  Sometimes twice a day.  I will need to get into town soon though, I am running low on cream, out of milk, and onions might be good.  I hope to grill chicken and brots, soon.  Sliced, grilled, onion is a tasty side.  If, next, I thaw hamburger, there is nothing like fresh raw sliced onion on that.  Now that I have ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise.  Gah... I should get fresh buns, too.  I never seem to have it all, or fresh enough.  I'll put it on my list.

I am simply ghosting right now.  I have no clue about this or that.  I'll get to the store when I can, do what chores beyond what I am keeping up on when possible, but... right now I just need to figure out how to be awake at the right times.  There is always tomorrow, and next week, but that is nothing sure either, so getting things done sooner, rather than later, is the preference.  A big glass of ice water sounds good.  Maybe too.  Then I think I have to crash.  I'll try to make it a nap, but that hasn't worked well lately either.  Later.

Listening to music past.

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I do that, once in a while, for no other reason than that the music I have chosen has fit, like a puzzle piece into my understandings, revisiting offers more than my first exploration allowed, sometimes multiplicatively, even exponentially.  My resources are not squandered on finding pleasure, or joy.  Nor do I waste what I have avoiding those things, or seeking only pain.  I merely look, and what I see, and how I see it, is noted and deciphered.  Puzzles, all intertwined, to one final ultimate puzzle.  It is beyond me in it's grandness, and it's greatness is both too big and too small.  Even what is my size is not something I can always understand.  The effort, in many cases, is the success.  But the trip can be quite wonderful.

Sleep is simply out of control.

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I am trying to figure out what is passing for day and night and then push things around.  I shove, but the walls of this thing are goo.  I push and shove and end up inside the walls, with no air or strength left to pull out.  *!Zap!*  Down I go.  I can't tell the time when I go down, didn't realize I was out of 'air' until I am falling, but falling so fast I have no time or way to connect with logic or my surroundings.  I do make it to bed before blacking out.  If I have a notion, like "feed the cats", "check their litter" ingrained, my body can follow those.  Automatic pilot folks, I haven't been mostly dead for a generation without learning some things.  This is why I may, possibly, in a bad situation, be counted upon.  I can focus through death, for the right reasons.

And yet, today, after several days of knowing nothing, I did focus on capturing the time of the collapse.  I have been trying to see the time for days, and maybe did, but until today it hasn't remained in memory.  It was somewhere around noon forty, and some other numbers... seven?  Close enough to give me an idea what I am working with.  I woke at 23:40-47 tonight.  Staying up that late in the morning, trying to push through, is rather harsh.  I sleep very hard.  I sleep long.  I woke in great pain, but that has passed.  I don't know if today will be like tomorrow, but I was pretty crippled yesterday.  It was a good day.  I woke well enough, the mind worked.  But the body was disabled.

The summer started out well.  And in some ways it has been quite nice.  It just hasn't been as active as I had hoped.  I will keep trying.  Pushing through when I can, enjoying what of life I may, even suffering as well as I am able.  I will experiment with a few things, in time, to try to create more function.  I hate negotiating with the strength of medicine, but I don't see another choice.  Down, a bit.  Who cares if I live for fifty years if I can't stand most of the time.  And, if that doesn't help, well, I'll just boost the level again in the hopes of a longer term recovery.  Time always tells, if you know the right question and couch and support it correctly.  Be careful with what you ask.

Later.

A few tunes... from the family archives.

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Just goofing, probably.  Enjoy or not.  Sometimes a choice.  If so, choose.

Yesterday was a short day.

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My internal calendar was off.  I thought yesterday was Saturday.  When you have one to three sleep periods a day, over a matter of days or week, keeping the calendar straight becomes impossible.  While I woke up well, I didn't always wake up long enough to get that right.  Yesterday was simply a very short day.  I slept late and went back to bed quite early.  It was a mildly rough day.  I woke this morning feeling pretty good, and rested.  So it goes.

Meats have been set out to thaw, plans are being made.  I don't know if I can do much, but I am ready to at least begin planning.  I still need to get to town.  I would like to work on the toilet and the faucet.  And I need to prep in case I can do a social event soon.  All of it is questionable.  All of it is possible, as I see things right at this moment.  Drifting through life, you learn to catch as catch can.  And, so, I do.  But that means being ready when ability seems to be at hand.  It seems a simple notion, unless you have drifted in life yourself, between life and death, health and illness, cohesive directed thought and a nearly unconscious psychic flow.  When you have been here, you understand that readiness, prep, is merely a state, not a promise to action.  That state can become bound, as iron rusts, only much more quickly.  But having it set means that, sometimes, even when you can't seem to force the function, need, want, or something subconscious might flip the switch and create the action.  Nothing is as it might seem to pure logic.  Survival, raw, sometimes, and reaction, when nothing else works.  But you do have to set the thing in motion for when the opportunity, in whatever sense, exists.  Then you pray.

Dreams, again, last night.  I remember little, nothing right at the moment.  I know there is something still in there, something I wanted to play with consciously.  It may, or may not, come to me through the day, or days.  If it does become manifest in the conscious mind, I may or may not choose to share it.  I probably share too much as is.  Then again, it's not like I am read by more than a handful, probably.  Even so, what is offered here is too rich for daily consumption, for all but the... well... a certain type.  Just the right balance of self-possession and looseness of mortal bonds to allow considerations that generally fall out of the mainstream stream of consciousness.  And an ability to... cope with pain, and pleasure, at the fringes of capacity.  Such people almost frighten me.  If not for the reasons mentioned.

A good day is a good day.  I love these too.  No pain, no exhaustion, some reasonable focus.  I embrace pain, when that is my lot.  And I embrace the simple and complex joys of living when that is set before me.  It is the only way to approach life and find satisfaction.  Later.

Rough, every other day, giver or take.

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It seems to be leveling out.  Yesterday, and occasionally, throughout the week, I have been having good and bad days.  As mildly good as yesterday was, today is mildly bad.  Wrist, ankles, knees, and some sort of general g.i. discomfort, exhaustion, lack of focus.  All milder forms but enough to put the skids on.  I don't get it.  I suppose that isn't the point.  I don't even know what I can do about it.  Meds are back in alignment, the excessive dose has been tended.  I guess I just have to, like a yo-yo, twist and flip until I get a break and the kid playing gets bored, tired, called away, or whatever.

I suggested I would try to attend something soon.  And do something.  While one thing failed, there is some hope that the second item can go ahead.  I will try.  I've been failing often lately, more so than usual.  We'll just have to see.

I have been finding myself on the opposite ends of many long-time online associates lately.  I am on the side of Ukraine.  I don't really care about the banking, EU versus Russia... bad and worse really, or some other things.  For me it comes down to Russia being put in check as to it's aggression against the world, again, and the choice of the Ukrainians, for their nation, being left to them.  I am considered a putz on this by the cynics involved.  So be it.  As well, I am for the involvement of the US, among others, in battling isis.  For a thousand reasons.  At least, in this, there are allies who surprise me, just not among my associates.  Further, I think the fig leaves being offered in Ferguson are traitorous.  It isn't so much a race issue, as a third versus first world interaction, where the third-worlders are being negotiated, and settled, with.  I don't consider Ferguson to be part of the US.  It just happens to reside within the borders, for now.  These hell-holes are going to have to be cleaned out, those who can't make it as US citizens will have to be repatriated.  Some have suggested that the US will be split into various zones.  I don't think that is going to work.  Ask the South how well that worked, and whether they themselves would be willing to cede, say, California.  It's pacifist putzes, in truth, who believe any such thing.  Then again, most internet backseat generals and politicians come from the elitist/academic set.  People who haven't ever, and see no need, to enact violence... for any cause.  Violence?  Surrender, hurry!  These people are the type who gave up, and continue to do so, their lunch money to the bully.  That is status quo for them.  I, obviously, am not among these.

I did have another dream.  I was in school, my freshman year of highschool.  There were a number of things going on.  The advanced placement staff were reviewing me for inclusion.  As such, among other things, I was entered into a group-think club, which was prepping for a contest.  As well, I was being interviewed and assessed academically.  In the end I was refused.  I knew why, even then.  I would not go along to get along.  The level of resistance depended upon the level of force being applied.  To teachers, who tried to enforce their will, the resistance was mental.  Clean, clear, sure.  To bullies, it was with fist, knee, and... anything that worked.  To ideas that were contrary to my understanding of good and evil, it was the insistence that nuance did not cover the gap and that the means didn't justify the ends.  This was my first exposure to how dark the system had gotten.  Along with reading history at about this time, and what was happening in these areas, that I realized socialism was an evil.  An evil that was upon us and being prescribed through forced education.  You will get ahead by following.  But you will lose your soul.  Most feel that they are too weak, or are too greedy, or want the accolades, or bits of these and others in various measures.  To get to the top you have to go along, and, so, those who got to the top did go along.  Groomed, indoctrinated, socialized, compared and graded, then passed on through the ranks to as far as they could go.  Yes, but, in truth, they were already failures.  My notions, for the thought contest were soundly rejected by the group.  The winning notions followed my notions almost to a letter.  The flat, unimaginative, lack of risk taking, in solutions from the rest of the group is how losing is guaranteed.  None of them had been forced to survive.  I suppose there is that.  Some non-linear thinking judges must have slipped in.  Yes, I do remember this time well.

Odd how my dreams have been, mostly, real or paralleling the real.  I'm not sure if I like that or not, but I don't think so.  I have seen some things I haven't considered but most of it is old hat.  While I am pretty sure I haven't been to Africa, I have been somewhere third world like it.  Perhaps the group was just from Burning Man, but I get the feeling... I have met such people in my past, through the military.  Then again maybe not.  Military personnel who would work with such people would be more in the diplomatic and intelligence sectors.  Though there are crossovers at times.  Keep them on their toes and whatnot.  Odd dreams, and remembering lots of them.  A week for dreaming indeed.

Now to wake and get over the cranky tired body.  Later.

A sound notion.

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I did find the wax ring and place it for easy use.  I just couldn't get past bowel function and am hitting bedtime.  I did get the tool sets in there as well, and uncovered the nuts to be removed, and removed the seat... which may have to go on in case I wake to more... storming.  Oh, I even dried out the bowl and tank.  Oh well.  I'll just have to do that again, tomorrow, or whenever I eventually get to it.  A push, a few stumbling steps forward, then a collapse.  I'm used to this.  Beside my adult life, the politics of war, the reality of combat of any sort, learning, and love... all bear this trademark.  It's just that it wasn't... well... yeah... it was just as bad back then.  I simply had more things on the burner at once, and was able to deal with more.  Now, one task at a time is my nearly complete ebb and flow.

Good night.

Much better.

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Insulin is helping.  My guess is that cutting medicine would also help.  Right now, all I can dare, is to add insulin.  What I will be exploring, in the future, is which will work faster at allowing function to return the quickest.  When you can't even feed yourself well, theoretical medical longevity takes the furthest back seat on the bus.  So, my job, should I accept it, which I do, is to figure out how to live as normal of a life, as easily as possible, with the medicines on hand.  From what I have seen, and what I suspect from that, there will be times when one or the other will work the fastest.  Beyond that is potential side effects.  Medical algebra, perhaps.  Maybe even calculus if I can keep on top of it.

I realized that if I removed the toilet, I will need a new wax ring.  I have one for the other toilet, which hasn't been installed.  Now, I like these rings.  They work very well.  So I will keep the box, and replace it, the next time I am in town.  Actually I will buy two.  It is good to have an extra one for any incidental usage.  I might even buy three.  I found the extra, and took it to the bathroom.

I am extremely thirsty, lately.  I rarely drink water, but when actually thirsty, the stuff is vital.  I would guess, on top of my normal coffee intake, I have been drinking a gallon and a half of water.  From zero to a gallon and a half is a huge jump.  Something is causing a problem.  Drinking, along with insulin, is helping.  I am really feeling pretty good.  It's been up and down, so I am not sure what to expect tomorrow and so on.  I will simply take what I can get and use it if I can.

Later.

Well.

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It's been a frustrating little life lately.  Pain isn't a part of the solution set, for good or ill.  Sleep has been extremely erratic.  I missed a day of medication.  I was trying to figure out how, when I realized that I had slept most of one of the recent days.  I was up to take one, night, set of medication.  Then I woke a few times, but slept most of that day.  I can't take medication if I am not awake it seems.  Tracking days is extremely difficult when I have two to three of them, in some ways, and yet none at all in another way.  I can only do what I can do.  Insulin is restarted, at a minimal dose.  I wish I could cut my heart medicine.  Actually, if I get things straightened out a bit, and keep on track for a while, if my diabetes remains unmanageable, I may... tinker.  For shorter or longer terms, trying to see if I can manage diabetes that way.  Half dose is what my new friend indicated as to how he handles the faux-diabetes.  I didn't really care, until I hit this.  Insulin hadn't been a problem before.  It just about killed me, or did, for a bit, or off and on.  Yeah...  I am rethinking that medicine.  Especially since I am all but sure the problem is organ failure due to heart medicine, and not a problem with blood sugar or dealing with that, as a disease of and by itself.

I did tinker with the wood at the base of the bathroom wall.  The problem is that the stool is too close to the wall to remove that.  It looks like I will have to drain, and then remove, the toilet, just to remove the wood.  On the good side this means I won't need to tinker to try and calk around behind the toilet.  I will merely trace the toilet with a woodworkers thicker pencil before removal, then calk inside that line enough that I can just set the toilet back on top.  Even if it doesn't go as fast as I would like, I have learned how to make and use an impromptu lou.  Not a problem.  Although the goal is to drain, remove, calk a double line just in case, then reinstall, all in one swift move.  I might be able to do it, if everything works as planned.

Not much else going on.  Tired, sleep is restful, I am simply needing a lot of it.  While I am awake, and can remain so, I do well.  I just haven't been able to do much.  The goal is to get medicine back on track, do what chores and tasks I can, rest and sleep as needed, and go from there.  Later.

Iraq.

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The typical anti-war crowds are banging the drums of surrender.  Democrats, as a general rule, are isolationist and anti-American.  Basically, if a policy would actually support U.S. interests, allies, practical or realistic solutions to naked aggression, they are against it.  They honestly don't care if every Christian in the Middle East were to be butchered, and we could have done something about it.  Or Jews.  Actually, I do believe they literally support such things.  Libertarians, as a rule, could care less about Christians.  As a rule, they don't consider themselves Christians, more like humanists of the milquetoast variety.  And they seem quite antagonist against Jews, so there is that.  Dems might support humanitarian aid to the losing side among some of our enemies.  Libertarians are almost as bad.

Libertarians couch it as an economic thing, which is bogus.  No, true, the US is broke and beyond.  As am I.  And yet, if I saw a man being beaten on the side of the road, and could reasonable expect to be able to intervene, I would.  I wouldn't try to suggest that I couldn't afford the gasoline for a stop, and restart, of my engine.  A risk, sure.  Though I don't think Libertarians care about risk, save for their own elitist status.  I am beginning to believe that much of the Libertarian movement is split between supporting chaos as with Democrats, saving nickles while not caring about dimes, quarters, and hundred dollar bills being spent on much more foolish things, and tongue in cheek anti-Americanism based on the European model, and typical elitist pacifism.  Plus, as a group that has no real power, talk is cheap.  I do believe they would do some of what they suggest, just not half as much as they promise, or less.

I supported attacking Iraq, and removing Saddam.  If I had had my way, after that, we would have planted a number of bases there, then left the rest to the people.  Pressure would have been put on Syria, next.  Help would have been available, to Iraq, for rent.  Further, Kurdistan would have been supported, probably to several conflagrations.  A new country would have been born, essentially an Arab Israel.  We wouldn't be in this mess, though we would eventually have been in messes.  There isn't a way to avoid that.  The thing is to look far enough ahead to see what is most likely, and loose diplomats to soften the blows.  None of which is, or has, been done.  As is, we are being superseded by Germany and another country, who are arming the Kurds.  We are having tiny, weak, nations go in while our president vacations.  Hell, the secular Pope and perhaps even the Dalai Lama are doing more saber rattling regarding isis.  And, yes, all of that adds up to very bad press for Dems and Libertarians.  Scandalous, unscrupulous, and scurrilous.  But whatever works to their ends.

If we were a powerless people, not just wishing to be, that would be one thing.  Power comes, and goes, as does wealth.  It doesn't matter what you have, but what you do with what you have.  This government, and some political movements, aren't using, but abusing, what they have.  Advocating surrender.  And while force isn't a thing that should be used for greed, or furtherance of power, once it is obtained, simply letting it go is almost as bad as not using it rightly.  It isn't an honor, power, wealth.  Those are gifts given for doing certain things, and there is an expectation with the gift.  So I expect that to be used rightly.  Yeah, I am a bit grumpy about it all. 

No, young'n.

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I can tell when there is a suspicion that I have had a sip, or more.  I couldn't, even if I wanted.  After that last attempt, I realized this was the wrong sickness for that medicine.  Very wrong, contraindicated harshly, actually.  While the flesh isn't in that place, perhaps the mind or spirit are, however.  When all are in alignment, then you get posts as was just offered, only... a bit more strongly.  Actually, the music was from a number of failed attempts to... dance with my angst.  Each was wrong, or supports could not be found, or I could not see.  Then, while... tinkering in my mind...  I saw it, or it saw me.  And, there you go.

I can't even play video games.  It's too much.  How I was able to clean the bathroom I don't know.  The chore possessed me.  It's not like it's a huge chore.  It is simply that I am barely functioning.  No pain, currently, and not truly exhausted as I have mentioned.  Simply there isn't any energy to focus or do.  With the bathroom clean, I am actually hoping to take off the kickplate, or whatever the strip of wood at the base of walls is called, then seal the base of the toilet.  I don't know if I can get that done, but...

As I said, not a sip.  I literally can't handle that.  It would rip me up.  When I go to bed next, I will take insulin for the first time in a while.  I am hoping my body is ready for it again.  I am not sure I trust the stuff, or the doctors.  But it seems to work, better or worse, at times.  The fellow that I discuss these things with, who has similar problems, actually cuts his heart medicine when his diabetes act up, and that does work.  As I suspected, and now with someone else with similar problems in support, I am certain that I don't have diabetes.  It is simply the medication, and the heart problem itself.  It isn't even food dependent, mostly.  Save when I am on the harsh fringe of it, as I am currently.  Even then, just avoiding pure sugars, such as alcohol.  And actually not even that, as soda is fine.  It is carbs that turn into sugars that seem to be a massive problem.  Yes, I... tinker.  I want to know, for my playbook.  Especially since alcohol has definite medicinal purposes in that playbook from time to time.  Beats psychotropics if it can be kept in check, and it is.

Later.

Falling into ascension.

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Just some musical thoughts as... things stay the same through change.  *Cheshire Cat grin*

Ups and downs.

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As soon as I think things are all on the up and up, I hit a snag.  Sometimes it seems like failure, even possibly death, are on the way.  Then everything clears at a seeming record pace.  Back and forth it goes.  For the most part, pain isn't keeping me down.  Exhaustion isn't quite it either.  Rather than being behind with energy, into negative territory, I simply don't have any.  There are three stages with energy levels.  Negative energy, also known as exhaustion.  It doesn't seem possible that someone could have negative energy.  Some think of the situation as if it was a gas tank, not a process.  While they are correct, a gas tank cannot have less than no gas, the whole system of feeding fuel to the engine, when viewing it systemically by looking at the engine dying and the tank being empty, with the fuel line and perhaps a reserve, and some slop in the system, the tank can be empty but the engine not be dead.  That, mechanically, is an explanation for exhaustion, perhaps.  Another example might be using, through some system, an improbable, for a human unhealthy, fuel system or source because living has gone beyond one's capacity regarding staying awake, taking care of needs, and such.  Coffee, for example.  Without it I will sleep twelve hours a day when doing well, three days a wake when doing poorly, and sleeping most of the time when I hit bottom.  I've tried it.

In any case, earlier today I hurt.  My energy was at about zero but I didn't hedge into exhaustion.  My ankles hurt to flex, even for walking.  My knees and wrists hurt in the same way.  My head felt as if it had been bruised, as did my wrist and calf muscles.  What that was about I simply don't know.  Dead in the water with minor pains.  Oh, and I had some internal pains, but it was organ pain.  I don't get gassy often, and pass gas even less often.  My system is used to going without food, so it doesn't waste processing to create gas, as a general rule.  I have been eating, daily and perhaps twice a day, lately.  That might be it, or what I was eating.  I wasn't sure until, well... proof is in the pudding.  It did turn out to be just what I thought is enough said.  Further, I have been needing a lot of sleep.  Napping, then waking for a bit, then sleeping, then up, then napping.  Most of the last two days have been spent sleeping.

I don't have a means of fighting back.  But the pain seems to have lifted, this evening.  I just don't know what is going on.  Medicines have been being taken, save insulin.  Though I think I will start that up before going to bed the next time I do so.  Intellectually, it feels like I am in the drying machine, but on fluff, with lots of soft stuff in there.  I just can't seem, mostly, to find a landing spot or coordinate my life.  Mostly painlessly, and the pains, other than over the weekend, have been mild to non-existent.  The aches from earlier were a short term, and rather mild form, of body hurt.  Ugh.

I have much that I want to do.  I can see the chores, I just can't really get to them.  I cleaned the bathroom.  I have been feeding the girls, taking medicine, keeping up on their litter, eating, and blogging.  Dreaming some of the oddest dreams.  Quiet dreams.  Some drama, in there, some emotion, but all of it in muted shades, muted emotional responses save for the baby carriage, and muted sounds.  Those things exist, but softly.  It's an odd time.  I just can't seem to recover, fully.  Maybe the weather is being quirky, and that is getting to me.

Just... I don't know what is happening.  I can't track, or stay on track.  At least, for the most part, my life, itself, is somewhat muted.  Mostly.  I'll keep trying to figure it out and get back to work.  Later.

It must be a week for dreaming.

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Nothing, mostly, so personal as exploring a branch of possibilities, my own cynicism(s) even if they are true, in a, and the, secular aspects of the world, but not completely bereft of an exploration of some minor possibilities, possibly realities, and... well... just some of me, or the parts of these things I don't mind sharing.  You get, nearly, a free reign.  Only my priest, as my confessor, has the possibility of knowing more.  My first was spared burning ears.  The bulk blunted the individual details, in most cases, and because of the time spans involved.  How do you detail fifty to sixty lovers, and others unremembered in full?  How do you separate your own sin from modern expressions, and other guilts.  A secular sin, what I was when sinning the most, is seen differently, even by one's self, even after having come around to faith.  In one sense he had all of the time in the world to hear, in another, he really didn't.  Anyway...

In this dream I found myself traveling with a group of people.  Americans, mostly, with some Europeans.  I needed to travel in parts of Africa.  It wasn't the safest, nor the most dangerous, of places.  The distance was great, options were limited, and enough stops in hard untamed terrain were on the way so that a plane would not do, and no trains or even roads would get me to my required destinations.  My interactions weren't with larger governments, international bodies, or militaries, and yet it was important and honest work.  I requested, and was provisionally granted, group admittance.  My requirements were rather laid out as hippie types do... I needed, generally, merely support myself, add some of my efforts to the common good, and not become a common bane.  As I was vouched to them, if details were obscure, no other cost, price, or limit, was demanded.

I have seen these types, recently.  At Burning Man, they have a group of general peace-keepers they call rangers.  A decent sort, from the almost nil interaction with them that I have had.  I think more of them are military or police than even many of them know, if not generally from the mp pool if I were to guess.  Closer to the literal Army ranger pool, but on the cooled heel side of that.  Anyway, there was an air of that with this group.  It was coed, however.  But the women had been trained up, and the women who remained were the women who proved out.  It wasn't military but it wasn't civilian.  Defensive combat orientation, with an extreme least force principle applied, though with a serious capacity in small arms and minor tactics.  I can smell my own.  While they traveled at a pace well above what civilians can pack through, they did not run at a mil spec pace, certainly not spec-for.  Still, an interesting group.  Not completely unapproachable to one such as I. I can't swear I understood them fully, functionally.  That would take more time than my dream trip would allow.  But I... think from various experiences in life I had a decent working knowledge.

It started with a group of us around the evening fire, during a meal then a conversation convention, not too dissimilar with what happens around the office water bottle.  Because of my cool, slow, general approach, I was generally invited, allowed, not just tolerated.  I knew, so long as I didn't stir the mud into the water, so to speak, I would be included or ignored, whichever I wished.  And while I did speak, quietly, a few times, I generally listened.  As the fire faded, people moved on, going to sleep or to more private or intimate activities or discussions.  A few remained.  I intended to sleep in place, as some others did as well.  I was, slowly, approached by one woman.

She wasn't much to look at.  And when I say approached, I mean a snails pace closing of the distance, at least by perception if not by fact.  She ended up quite close.  And considering the dynamics of the crew, quite quickly.  I understood this.  The offer.  Rough, dusty, a little chunky, but sufferable, relatively and in this sort of camp style.  Assuming a man was a normal man, with normal needs, and a secular nature.  All of which could easily have been assumed, and mostly correct, at the time, save the first.  I got the feeling that she was the camp's third wheel.  My guess is, even at a snail's pace, she moved too fast.  Hunger, while one of the best spices, of one's own interest, can ruin the interest in making a meal.  It runs contrary, in personal interaction.  A woman who is too hungry in the company of people who are self-possessed, in the proper way, is shunned.  I merely played ignorant, and to a degree aloof.  You can't, completely, fool, alligators, or hungry women, however.  But you can baffle them just enough so they can't be sure why.  I did so.  I knew, if nothing else, that as the third wheel, inviting her in would lower my status in the group.  That wasn't the only reason to stay away, merely the political aspect.  I must have done my job correctly, for the group, or she, tested my resolve and nature later, by having one of the gay, or bi, men, make similar overtures, to similar results.  Deadness is what he received as well, on that part, and more than what she received.  Even if I wasn't disinterested in her for personal and social/political reasons, my tasks and person, were too into my mission to allow for distractions.

I traveled with this group, made a few contacts, and a few possible friendships.  Sometimes these things are the same, sometimes they are different, and so it went here.  Listening without eavesdropping, speaking without saying too much or too little, action, and thought, all allowed for a quiet alignment of alliances in various ways.  As a dance that lasts for weeks.  While there are no right or wrong movements or words, after a level of mutual confidence has been achieved, there is the subtle differences.  We knew each other to be, at least partly, contrary, in our lives.  We also, mostly, understood that our lives, or work, where not the whole of us.

I could respect them, hippies that they were, because they didn't just talk the talk.  They tried, and succeeded to some degree, in walking the walk.  They were out there to help real diplomats, humanitarian aid and workers when those were actually needed and not as an invasion force, and, if they didn't see it I did... to try to do good.  Not in their lives, but with them.  I was doing similar, although with a bit more teeth.  They had some doubts about my associations.  And yet I knew enough of their own attachments, personal, financial, and otherwise, to know they had little to discuss on the matter.  An order is an order, and an asset is an asset.  But somewhere in that there is a man.  In this way we came to... mutual appreciation without much muss or fuss.

Mostly, other than that, it was a long dry leisurely, to my standards, group travel through African terrain in some varied odd attempts to help a people do what few of us believe they can do.  And while there is that, there is some hope they can be allowed to live their humble lives free from some things, while still being allowed some of the fruits of their lands, without the outright raping of their lands.  That is a difficult balance for a people who probably can't, as a rule, be taught algebra.  Still, there is some hope.  The other option is to shut Africa off, leave it to it's own devices.  That would cause the death of most city dwellers, a return to a more barbaric, tribal, time.  If the modern world falls, I am not sure there will be a choice.  Nothing great or important in the dream.  Some of it was personal experience, some of it... I just don't know, some of it from here, some from there.  Mostly real, just collected from various sources.

After this dream was over, or if it was a movie and in credits... the ending of the reel... something like those things...  I saw a baby carriage roll out in front of me.  Spooked, a bit surprised, not sure whether to be fearful, with regrettable memories, though maybe a hope for some future?  I can't remember the color.  Black?  Baby blue?  I know that was important, but my rotating emotional response seemed to change the color so that I can't be sure.  Disturbing, even if the vision of truth to a hope.  Filling a baby carriage is no easy task, and takes two.  Then... *poof*  It was gone and I am awake.  Very awake.  Starkly awake.

Later.

A dream of another branch in life.

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In the dream I was young, just after highschool.  In real life, I joined the Navy.  I actually realized, in the dream, why.  Part of it was that I knew something was a bit off, even then.  I thought the Navy could... help me sort it out.  In the dream, that problem didn't exist.  The Navy didn't help me fix what was wrong, and psychology failed as well, if the problem went from mild to mind crushingly disabling while I was in, and wasn't of the sort that those things could fix.  Fair enough.  Still, it didn't exist, so I went to college.

No worries, with the last post.

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When I am on the mend, I sometimes merely need to do a crazy Ivan, check the baffles in a fast blind 180 rush into the unknowable.  We did it on submarines, I do it in life.  It is how some must deal with the unknown, at times, in places.  I go to where fears may live, and truths may hurt.  It is how my system works.  One can't deal with fear and hard truths out there until one has them mastered at home.  And, so, I master those that need attention.  True or not, only by delving into dark places can I be more sure.

I am doing much better.  Hugely better.  A bit of rest, yet today.  Tomorrow I am pretty sure I can... begin.  Life is contemplation married to action.  So, while I rest I think.  Tomorrow I will act.  My sleep schedule is a bit off.  I will be working on that while I figure what to do and when this evening.  Oh, I should call my friends and see what, where, and when with some things.

Strength is returning.  The will to run, work, and play is there, however, first.  Lord knows, it feels good to stretch forth in flesh and touch the world again.  Shadows of dark things having been passed through, being sorted, has it's place and time.  Pain is a gift, one that can be turned in like a voucher in the name of Love, like all others.  A percent for my King, a bit just for me, and some for the community.  Never fear it.  It will never be more than you can take.  It is not what can hurt you.  Bowing to it, ultimately, is what will hurt you.  You really are too important to let that happen but you must decide about that on your own.

Wow, it really is a good day.  Sleep was splendid.  My dreams of walking with saints, hearing their tales, loving their sacrifice and great joys.  Seeing their pain and loss fruit into wisdom and light.  Waking to the gift of a painless strong body, with mind clear, whims galore, and the knowledge that for the other children, there will always be hope.  Mad old goat, perhaps, but not always a grumpy one.  Speaking of which, I ought to shave soon.  Just... sayin'.

Later.

A couple of days of rest...

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collided with the notion of getting out Monday.  Getting out lost, but has merely created a continental fold which will build pressure for an eventual trip to town.  Tomorrow, the day after, soon.  No, I hadn't realized it was Sunday, not for that application, not until dinner arrived.  It isn't that I didn't know it was Sunday, either.  As I have been resting, for the most part, days have been tracking with the calendar fairly well.  It is simply that that aspect of my mind had not been included to the writer's table in that post.  A wizard is never late.  Nor is he early.  He arrives precisely when he means too (even when he has no idea what time that will be, or always what time it is when he gets there).  No, no, I am not a wizard, but I have the mind of one in fact where all else about such remains a fiction.  Urhm, in the reality of the common, modern, sense of the notion.

I thought I should admit it.  If you have ever heard of the blind, or crazy, old man on the hill... that is me.  I do not worry about it.  I understand much.  A goat of a man, in some senses, as well.  Laughable to some, a sad thing to others, and hated by another portion.  It doesn't bother me, mostly.  It isn't something someone could grind me down with, for sure.  Some have chosen not to look at it quite in that way, most have no choice.  They are even correct, within certain aspects of life as some have to know it.

I also know I am often considered a fool, by many.  Wrong, incorrect.  Theologically, morally, socially, philosophically, historically.  Most of my church members, who did elect for Zero, think I am the heretic.  Then I remember the days when Catholicism was the only religion in Europe.  It was so for ages.  And yet we get some of our greatest saints from those times.  Most of our saints were martyred, murdered for upholding principals dear to Truth.  A woman who refused to give herself to a husband, whose chastity was brutally and frequently stolen from her by several, whose beauty was ripped from her body, until finally she was murdered.  Her calling was the nunnery, none allowed it to her horrid death.  Who but Catholics could have done this?  I do understand.  As much as things change, things stay the same.  I figure being shunned is a simple, humble, mild, thing.  Oh, don't even look at my admitted glass house and point and cluck.  Or I will open your soul to your own truths.  You know.  Which is why the church, often, reverently, attempts to keep a part of itself free from as much of flesh as possible just as a wife will fervently stride to maintain a little piece of her innocence from husband, children, friends, and even herself.  Are you in that part of it?  How would you know?  You will be shunned by the many, one way or another, from your own church.  Just as Christ was shunned by His own.  Those shoes can't be denied, if they are not the whole of protection.  There is the Holy Spirit, and doing God's will.  If not here, then there, if that is all the same... to the blind fool on the hill.

Dreams, yes.  Long walks with people long dead who live more so now than ever.  Murdered by their own for doing, not just saying.  Fortunately, but actually not, that is not likely to be my cure.  Those who believe in modernism, multiculturalism, and other evils, have grown too complacent in their vile notions, to settled and comfortable in their wealth and leisure, to bother with one who knows better, or thinks he does.  Which is why they are working so fervently for a government which will enact their will for them.  A lazy man's approach.  A trap for themselves too.  Only the Trotskyites were more surprised to see themselves up against the wall, and so quickly.  Amen.  And, yet, I pray for them, that they may see before they must go.  Some things, no matter how second-hand, or penalized here and in the end, are a crime against God which will receive no second chance.  Abortion alone, toss in pregnancy prevention, and those, alone, are enough.  They are the murdering of faith, hope, and charity, sins against the Holy Spirit, assaults on God.  Add in the rest and...  A long, dark, goodnight is all that can be earned by supporting such.

I am no saint.  I am not lucky enough to be martyred, even so, if more because the weakness of the believers... unless they can create the government they wish to empower.  I think, now, it is mostly a few, and angels, who keep that from happening.  If thinly.  All things, but only in their time.  I simply thought you should know I do understand my cursed, or blessed, simpleness.  My station in life, as I see it and as most see it.  No, not a saint.  If that is the direction.  Possibly just an old goat who has lost his mind, though, too.  I wonder how many read herr and suspect both.  It's a club I could join, when I am weak and tired enough.  I simply won't yield to it.

Alive and quite well.

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I will need time to sort things out.  Thankfully, I have not finished the shows, and purchased a new, inexpensive, set of games.  I do need to sit, rest, think.  But I am out of the health problems.  I simply need some time, days, probably, to heal fully and catch my breath.  An interesting trip.  Dreams became solid, sight became long, understandings unfolded as time and space closed in on nil.  An interesting, if sometimes painful, and confusing, point in existence.  To be aware, in these types of events, is a gift... with a price.  The trip taken, the price paid, a few days in port before I head out to sea again.

I am feeling much better, just drained.  Trying to interpret these things even in my tongue, let alone yours, is not terribly easy, not even always possible.  I know the difficulty of belief.  I share it.  Some aspect of me wishes to believe in what appears to be what is.  What can't be known, or understood, here or there, is difficult to swallow.  Living on the border anyway makes my life quite difficult at times.  Think of those times when you must travel, leaving home, perhaps family, and friends, to a destination and goal that is much sought.  Being home, with family, friends, community, is sweet.  It may lack purpose, it may even become less than all that is hoped.  And being in a place and time where one's purpose can be fulfilled is gratify.  Sure, some things and people are missed, the regularity and surety that is life.  The trip may be a long lonely one, or a simply trip to the office, school, hospital.  Once there, though, the work, demand, purpose, consumes and less of what has been traded is missed.  It is the travel between here and there, this and that, which can be disturbing.  I live there.  For a reason, I suspect, so I abide.  I bite my tongue, I endure, I suffer, I find little and bigger joys.  The closer I get to the middle, the more I suffer.  I am closer to one, or the other, now.  I can rest, and endure, a little easier.

My goal is to make it to town Monday, to do a little touch up shopping, but mostly to see my friend.  He too lives as I do.  Only he has no personal transportation.  I do what I can for him.  And this serves my wants, needs, as well.  A third may be joining our group.  We each have our own limits and variabilities.  We are also all in the same neighborhood.  Closer to the middle than most would wish.  No place to run, no way to hide.  We do see, if each in our own way.  The calculus of time when time is no longer an issue, and yet is the only issue remaining.  No tricks of words can change... some things.

I have seen some of the writing on the wall.  I have written, and corrected, and will ensure, some of it.

After Monday, I hope to begin hitting some of my tasks and chores.  Depending on what Monday takes out of me, Tuesday or Wednesday will see me working on the faucet, and perhaps sanding the work bench and mixing the finish for the wood.  Oh, and I will, while doing that, see if the orbital sander is enough for the porch stanchions.  If not I will be buying a heavier belt sander, and probably a couple of planes and other hand woodworking tools.  Yes, more expensive.  But... with purpose.  And, I will attempt to use all of the tools, too learn, experiment.

Later.

Out and about.

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I wasn't sure I would get a shower.  I definitely did not think I would make it to town.  And, yet, I did both.  Nothing fancy.  A fast meal, then just a bit of shopping.  A few frozen pizzas, to compare.  Frozen veggies, as I think I am going that way.  Cat food, enough for a couple of months in case I remain in failure.  Milk and cream.  A few other odds and ends.  Plus, I checked the mail.  I have something in, but normally need to sign for it.  They know my condition and have... offered a solution.  I will be in when I can, soon, I hope.  One of the last pieces to an ongoing project.  Not all of my projects can be discussed.  Yes, yes, I... do things.

It was a rough day.  A few more body stretches.  Painful as those are, they seemed to help.  Lots of pain up front, but it eased everything somehow.  Don't think of what I do as a stretch, really.  Think of it as a complete body stretch, combined with a massive yawn, on top of the tightening of every muscle in my body which I can control, all at once.  I'll be doing a few more of these, as I get better.  It lifts me out of... or up from... some darkness.  Death itself, perhaps.  While death is only a window, a door, to those with the breath of life, it... is to be avoided.  The pain of it is the surrender.  Someday you will understand.  It simply isn't my time.  Still, the closer to that door, the more painful.  The more difficult to navigate.  I have things to do, so I cannot enjoy that proximity, not yet. It isn't all bad.  It is getting better.  A meal, and getting out, helped.

I was amazed at what I saw.  At the store, lights where dimmed.  There were few shoppers.  The aisles were stocked.  The few on hand to stock seemed to be doing very little.  When it comes, everything will be in presentation form.  Nothing will move, in or out.  Until after the end.  Of an age, and era, or all, is yet to be seen.  As I told a man this evening... if the oceans run bloody, if major modern nations collapse, if the world shakes, spews magma, destroys many, then you may wonder.  Even then...  No... If you see such, you will know.  Dress rehearsal or the end for the beginning of the end?  Not sure it matters on what scale, only to whom, and how.  Do not fear, this was foretold, by history, and God.  Hold hope, you will need it, along with faith and charity.  Still, sad to see, in some sense.  Right to see, in another.

Good night.

I just kept sleeping.

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I woke many times today.  Everything hurt.  So I kept sleeping.  I slept, woke, hurt, so went back to sleep, perhaps a dozen times.  Sometimes, usually, I embrace pain.  I simply have to be strong enough for it.  Today was one of those rare days.  Fragility, delicacy, sensitivity, all... maybe more.  I couldn't even tell where all the pain was coming from, what source, where, how.  I wouldn't allow myself to wake enough to find it, and refused to focus on any of it.  I simply allowed sleep to pull me back under for as long as it would.  I don't think I needed the sleep.  I thought I would pay that price.  But upon waking, finally, around 17:00, my body wasn't grumpy at the sleep, and some large portion of the pain has gone.  I did need the easement that sleep allowed.

I brushed my teeth, stretched.  Boy did that hurt, in the short run.  Yelped, for a while.  But it seems to have sent the pain away, in the longer run.  A shower shortly.  Medicine as I think of it now.  I have stopped insulin for a day or two.  I was way too dosed on that stuff.  I will start over, Saturday or Sunday, on a much reduced dose.  That stuff was going to kill me.  Even on lower doses it was having traumatic effects.  I am sure that is what was causing the problem, beyond a doubt.  The burning has stopped since I quit, at least at that level.  It is much faded, though I suspect it will still come and go.  Danced on my own grave, I did.

Actually, I am feeling much better.  Not up to par, even as poor as par can be.  But certainly no longer doing a jig that sent me through the final frontier and back in a zigzag pattern.  Safely away from that door, I merely need to regain strength and mop up some aches and pains.  *zoom*  I have my half-smile, crooked grin, call it what you will, back in my pocket.  Sometimes the front, sometimes the back, pocket.  But when that is with me Death doesn't quite have the nerve to approach.  He thinks I know something he doesn't.  And... I do.  :)

Yeah.  A little time to wake, perhaps another stretch to concentrate and dismiss pain, a shower, and then... who knows.  Later.

Something is still seriously wrong.

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Almost all of it is back.  I will be sleeping, when I can.  When I wake I will begin monitoring blood sugar and pressure.  The heart isn't slowing, as it was.  But the fever and some other things are all back, at full blast.  I have no idea what could be causing this, again, and so soon.  It really doesn't make sense, not this time.  I'll figure it out, or it will go away.  Later, probably good night.

A bit better, again.

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Tired and still sore, again, again.  I might be able to sneak into town, later... early to mid evening.  I just noticed that my friend called.  Not sure why I didn't hear the call though?  Oh, but after a quick check, it's because I was still asleep.  If I can get to it, I'll let him know I am heading to town.  I can't do much.  A bit of shopping and maybe the return of a previous purchase.

I don't mind the pain.  The feverishness that comes and goes, and headache, at least together, are the greater nuisance, and what does bother me.  Bruised all around, though, I am used to that, from more fights than I can, for sure, count... that I know.  And I have no blood on my hands or conscience for it.  The first dozen or so were "fair fights".  My opponents had a chance.  Of course, that was when I was a child, and they were older, bigger, more experienced.  Even having a 3:2 size advantage, several years or more on me, and more experience, they only had a chance.  Most of my fights since then have been brutally one-sided.  Even when they outnumbered me.  I knew it, even then.  But you can't tell a bully you are going to hand him his ass until you learn the language, though not always even then.  Less so a group of bullies.  I knew I was holding back, even so.  I didn't know, or consider, that I had a right to kill or, when being attacked by much bigger or many, I would have killed as young as eight to ten.  I did know how, but did not feel... authorized.  Actually, I have tried dozens of ways of communicating the threat to various sorts.  My tongue, now, is almost as severe as my fists in those situations.  Talking nice isn't the way.  I can send a would-be attacker into a sort of trauma trance.  Foul-tongued devil, I think is what I have been called.  Some knew, in spite of my rudeness, that I was doing the aggressor a favor.  But I also learned when talk would work, and when it wouldn't.  Actually, I don't shout, I whisper the barbs.  A whisper that can be heard for a mile, I am told.  Perhaps not literally, mind you.  Just an expression, probably.

Never mind.  The pain is simply so reminiscent of fighting that it causes recall.  The last group of would be attackers I sent into a tizzy was the defensive front line of the Iowa Hawkeyes.  Some bar in downtown, after a loss.  They did gather, to face off, but would not cross the line they thought they might consider at first.  Ever looked at a bunch of jocks in shellshock?  The cops weren't willing to come in.  The bouncer knew what they were doing was wrong, but wasn't willing to back me, or challenge me.  Go down?  Sure.  Just not even close to alone.  My tongue saved them much pain.  Even then, I am not sure they would have been able to kill me.  I would have killed and broken half of them.  I guess steroids can't bury fear of all things.  I did see the troublemaker, on the streets, a few weeks later.  He was bigger, better built, in much better shape.  He glared, until I saw him, then caught his eyes.  He then lowered his eyes and slipped, or more scampered, away.  Not as a group, certainly not in one-on-one.  Even a roid-head jock, full of himself, knows when he meets something that is dancing on his grave without even a thought.

I also keep thinking of women.  I miss them when homebound.  Getting out once in a while, I dance with the ladies, young, old, pretty, ugly, thin, and between.  So long as they have the right... attitude.  As sisters, daughters, mothers, unrequited loves and lovers, many things these creatures...  Interesting creatures.  I can tell which could make a good wife, which will always be a problem because they have problems, and such.  I also know that how she turns out depends on how the relationship is crafted.  If a man does not bring her what belongs to her, and does not keep her whims in check, some combination of those, she will be on her way.  What is her due?  It's a variable, but it is real.  It is a portion, a tribute.  Some just for her, some for the relationship.  Some of it is money, some of it is time and attention.  Oddly, if you give these things rightly, you need to give less.  She will even insist that you go on.  It isn't the gift, but truly, with a good woman, the thought that counts to a point.  Truly odd.  The other part is allowing her to be a part of the future.  She doesn't, completely, work in details.  Let her set some of the parameters, but do not burden her with every detail or the complete path.  She will weary of it, and you with it.  Some goals, some part.  She needs to own some of herself, including her future.  With the knowledge that dreams are only that, at times.  They are rather strong when they have a base of operation, strong enough to make it through failed dreams, for a time.  Longer if the path was as true as it could be made.  Interesting creatures.  Laudable at their peak, just as deplorable as any man when they fail... perhaps more so within the paradigm of the feminine.  The feminine simply isn't as capable or culpable.  Is it the battleaxe or the a-bomb you fear most?  I suppose it depends on if it is your head or your ass that is targeted with delivery on the way.

Still, I do enjoy women greatly.  I seem to receive quite positive reactions from women I find attractive, in the various ways women can be attractive.  Whether because I am seen as fatherly, or handsome, tall, strong, or what, I do enjoy my encounters with the fey folk.  I would sure enjoy a wife, mostly, troubling as that is.  I have limits, though, and things I wouldn't negotiate, can't.  Since I can't seem my way through, and into, that, I simply enjoy flirtations, offerings of respect for those that might have potential, and a moment outside of time and space that is shared with the little sisters.  I can't wait to get out again.  I hear their calling.  A simple desire to please and be anointed in return, nothing I can't do in the simple and humble ways of a traveler.  As with the return of pains from combat, this time without blood on my hands.  Love is as bloody as war.

Another hour or two, and I will shower and try to ship out.  Not sure it is going to happen.  But that is the goal.  Later.

I do understand the illness.

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Not the cause, completely.  I have had similar, before, but not the same.  I suspect it was the relative dosage of insulin.  Three or four months, and the stuff goes flat.  Reload, in a few days, on high doses of fresh stuff, and something is bound to go very badly.  I felt something with my heart, but couldn't understand it inside of illness.  I realize, now, that it had nearly stopped.  It had nothing to do with heart problems, it was simply my body shutting down in order to... rearrange, figure things out.  My guess is, at times, my heart dropped to a pulse of 40, sometimes less.  Literally, you, on your own, out there, if this happens and doctors aren't on hand working on you, you will not make it.  Me?  I have said it, I don't get to die.

My body is still bruised and sore on the inside.  My heart is beginning to function well.  Other organs that did, or nearly, shut down, are operating again.  But they are sore.  My body feels as if I was in a serious fight, kidneys, lungs, all of them, hurt just a bit.  As if they had been bruised.  I am still in pretty bad shape.  I will remain so.  Tired, for a bit.  But, slowly, coming out of it.  Headache and fever come and go, but much more rarely, and lightly.  A few more days and I should be doing better.  At least I figured this event out.  Now to make sure and not repeat it.  I'll... put something in my calendar, about ordering fresh insulin, every month.  They only send two bottles.  Which makes it really tight, since they wish me to change to a new bottle every month.  And, probably, if this happens again, I will cut the dose on a new bottle, even if it comes just a month late, for whatever reason.  I never know when I will get the next dose.  A week, a few days, a month...  Never mind, I will do what I can.

Later.  Good night, actually.

Love, life, death.

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Short words, long meanings, with implications less than our expressive and more than our simple understandings.  Chips, in a poker game, that perhaps convey the vagaries, complexity, flow, and uncertainty of dollars, economy, fiat and literal wealth and are yet simple constructs of wood, plastic, or metal.  Only understandings as we wish, are required, or refused, to understand as is possible, or not.  Pieces of a game that may or may not be a game, depending on how, or even if, to some degrees, we can or wish to understand.

If you could see me, as I see you?  In my mind, I am something many would choose to end.  Kill, if that word makes any sense regarding some things  Can you kill death?  Can you kill war?  Would you survive killing either, or other such things?  Even in time, when God stands true to your very eyes, what has helped you become an immortal child of God, can you truly kill that without destroying yourselves?  Would you?  Time isn't what it seems.  Changing the past cannot happen without changing the future.  Even the future cannot, in full truth, be changed.  Delayed, maybe, but not changed.  I do not deplore the notion of some of your hopes.  I merely understand that those who share this sentiment, truly... do not understand yourselves at all.  War is not imposed upon you.  It is you.  Any being which might embody that... is your child. 

For my part, I did not know you.  For all of my existence, save when walking among you, as one of you.  Even then, as I realize things now, I am not one of you and never can be.  I can join with you, as family, tribe, co-faithful.  I can marry and have children, extended family, and more.  An impulse of man, cut and limited, for a time, to fit into flesh.  It isn't even a chicken or the egg question.  Which came first is without question or doubt.  Man came first.  So, I am your child.  And, as all children, I will one day be your guardian.  I will be disobedient, I will be faithful, I will be wrong, I will be true.  I will be what you have made of me.  I cannot be more, or less, just that I can act, possibly, in all of you.  Though it is hoped, through blood, toil, and calling, that I will not simply be a construct, a chip, for another to play.  Rules, laws, truths, to be sure, create limits.  Just not the same for me and you.  The riders are of your making, your choosing, your design, now as always.  But there is hope for more.  But a time will come when we are called home.  This, too, is in your hands.  Alien?  Yes, and no.  I am not you, I am a piece of all of you.  Aye, yes, I finally understand.

I get to see inside of death as few others can.  I do have a... respect for it.  It is said that one of the archangels carries this burden, gift, light, and darkness at times.  It is said that one of my brothers carries this also.  One a son of God, one a bit different, perhaps a son of the sons of God and son of Adam as well.  Definitely a child of man.  I have seen more from the other side than from this side.  My recent illness probably brought me closer to the other side, even here and now, than most of you will ever know until you are on your final journey.  I miss that side.  I am not cut and pasted, limited by flesh, or even passion.  I also do not believe, now, again, that I am without passion, there, either.  It is simply different.  I understand, without reservation, the fullness of passion and compassion, and life and death are not so much a mystery or question, just... variables in the equation.  Pain, likewise, is merely part of the solution set, no matter how great.

Thoughts, dreams, daydreams, visions, as I wake from my walk on this side, and that, of the veil.  Most potent events, most potent sights.  I will be better in a few days and will find my way back to being a mouse.  Perhaps a mouse with a roar that can rend mountains, but a mouse none the less.  Until it is time to fulfill my destiny, or yours.  My system is slowly mending.  If I were as you, I would have been dead.  I may even have been dead, for a bit, even so.  As for you?  Choose wisely.  You can't choose some things.  What you may choose is very simple, as are all poker chips, and bets.

Good day.

Figured it out?

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Maybe.  I am supposed to change vials of insulin every month.  I don't, because I forget to do that itself, or forget to order, which is a similar, but different, failing.  This time I used a bottle of insulin nearly until it was gone.  On top of a period of very sporadic use.  So, a few days to a week ago, when I switched to a new batch after, probably, 3 or more months using the same vial, taking almost as many cc's as the syringe I use will hold...  I dosed, then over, then maybe triple dosed.  Day one might not have been a problem, but at some point...  That is what caused that odd tick in my chest.  That is what made me feel inebriated, and probably made me think that drink might fix it.  When that sort of thing has happened in the past, heavy drinking has helped.  It pushes a great deal of fluid through my system, which is more important when my body, naturally through illness, gets like that.  As is, drinking, now, makes the situation worse.  Now I do understand.

I don't know that this is all of it.  It doesn't explain recent cases.  And it doesn't explain my friends being ill.  Probably.  My friends might just be as funny as I am.  Funny is a funny word for funny.  And brown bottle flu can catch.  Not sure that was their issue, even modified by illness.  Never sure.  I have my doubts.  By the way, if you feel watched, you may well be.  These new lights that have been forced on us?  Many of them have other abilities.  One of them is the ability to spy.

Later.