A nation of bachelors?

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Bachelors?  One of my reads suggests, through her sources, that 70% of men, aged 20-34 are single.  More than single, they are not getting into home ownership or doing other things that typically suggest maturity.  I'll accept those numbers, at a glance.

She suggests, or seems to suggest, that the roots of this are in the feminized legal issues regarding marriage.  And, with courts nearly automatically giving custody of children, and half of all assets or more, and allowing divorce at a whim, there is that.  I don't think that, though, is the half of it.  Men are, naturally, well beyond risk averse.  Born bold beyond the point of stupid, so that while fewer are born, we die in larger numbers at every single equal age group compared with women.  Whether riding motorcycles, climbing, hiking in country where predators exist, or any number of various activities, we go where women truly fear to tread.  We grow much better for it, but die for it.  So, it isn't just that.

I would guess the bulk of the problem with marriage, what I would call the two-thirds part, is two-fold.  The first part has been happening since women joined the employment market in numbers large enough to displace men and cheapen the market.  A real decline in bring home pay has made the idea of marriage untenable.  As risk averse as men are, on some things, there is a natural limit.  Can't afford minimal entertainment, or even to feed oneself?  Why in the world would he add a women to the mix?  Even if she works, how long will that last once she is pregnant?  No matter what she says, will she really go back to work after a child is born?  Yeah...  No.

The other part is the social marginalization of men, manly things, and our doings.  I am sure, initially, it was a curios advertising thing.  Knowing men, for the most part, work and steadily and at certain times of the day, advertisers decided to feed the miserable parts of being a woman, wife, and homekeeper.  Attacking men in passive-aggressive ways.  That quirk grew until it invaded every aspect of the media.  It has become a modern truth that men are dogs, unworthy of all the hard work and efforts and good will of women to keep us happy, well fed, tend "our children", and such.  Dogs!  They say.  And women have that on the front of their minds when they meet men.  Not equal, less, they tell us.

I have no problems with this, because the mind of a woman is easy enough for me to shake.  Much as a deer, looking disdainfully at a lion.  From a distance that works.  Up close, and I see their fear.  The truth absolutely self-evident.  For me, it is not just physical.  I can speak their hidden language, and dismiss it at a glance.  I can shatter their false beliefs, and care nothing for the feelings it hurts.  And to great acclaim.  Women love a man who has no fear of their neurosis and can set it aside without a thought.  Most men can't.  Most men have surrendered to the advertising and propaganda blitz.  They feel, and show it, their guilt just for being men... or simply aren't ever aware of what they are facing.  Either that or they have grown purely feral.  Attacking the woman, or just hating her back.  Feeding the misbegotten cycle.  Many who read here just don't believe until...

Those two, along with the courts and laws, are why men are not marrying.  My only questions are; can that be changed in the current system, without having to destroy it and start from scratch?; how long will it take to begin changing the system, or breaking it down completely, before things can be restarted?; and what are the costs?  Personally, as this generation is being passed over for even gaining access to employment, this generation of women will never have a chance at marriage... not most of them.  Even if these particular men go on to marry, at some point, it will be with next gen women, fertile women, who will be sought.  This generation of women will not be a party to a family life.  By the time, if it happens, men decide to marry, they will not marry older women.  Men are not attracted to women who have become old flowers.  Fresh or nothing, even for me.

The complete disaster that these last generations have become is only going to get worse until all is lost or the war on men is surrendered.  An unconditional surrender or the end.  Men will only fight a war if they have a sane chance, sane leadership, and a fair enough shake.  That is not the case.  Further, at this point, men will desert the field and leave it to rot, and have found that it isn't as difficult as all that.  Men will win if it means everybody loses.  Why?  Because we can.  Time to lady up, women.  Oh, it'll hurt.  But it will beat hitting bottom.  Since our politicians ignore us, you best start voting with that fading flower, and those dollars you spend, or you will be out in the cold, as will your daughters (if you are lucky enough) and granddaughters, and the rest.  Wanna bet?

I am in a place where I have some defenses and comforts and can choose.  And, if possible, might take a wife.  Up to her, soon enough.  Most men don't have my position, and won't take an impossible risk.  Should be interesting to see how things turn as women realize that to have what they have means to be alone in it.  I think they are figuring it out.  Just not fast, or well, enough.  Nor do most of them know that voting for more feminism is not the way.  At this point, I don't think a single, working, never-wed or divorced and likely to mostly be single, woman, aged 30, even realizes she is a feminist.  I don't care if she is a Republican, Democrat, doesn't vote, or what.  She is a feminist.  More so if her "career" is her focus.  This is going to be a rough ride for most... until it collapses, or by the grace of God, is reset.

Something is still not quite right.

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Oh, well, I have definitely had worse.  Now, when I suggest something is off, it is more in line with how most of you might understand it.  The effects are more troubling for me than they would be for you.  I have to fight much more diligently to do anything.  But I no longer drop into some psychic and physical abyss.  I simply stopping be as able to to a bit more, or even a lot more, active.  I remain aware.  Very aware.  Even lively of mind.  Just not of body.  And yet, even when I fail, like making the meeting, I almost got there.  I was ready, and on time, but the body got ill from the push.  Really quite good.

It isn't medicine, as that has been going forward, if at my lowered doses.  It, I think, is the constant changes in weather, the new stronger spring sun, and perhaps a few other things.  Spring and fall have always been a bit rough, or potentially.  My physical body is very tied to the world.  The rest is not.  That strain is great.  Still, over time, I have learned to balance the mind, even against the body and worldly changes.  But I seem unable to shield the body against the changes?  That is my theory.  These last few years seem to have strengthened my theory, as my mind has been more able to stay focused.  The bad heart just intensified the variability of the body, and discrepancy between mind, or mind/spirit, and flesh. I'll just keep working on it.

I did try to make a call, and set something up, last evening.  I will try again, today, sometime.  I have to arrange to buy tickets today, and then get in for a summer haircut.  It is still quite cool in the mornings, so I am not absolutely certain of the wisdom of this.  Since my friend wants to go in, and I want to get this started, I will just press ahead with the plan.  I'll probably need it neatened before I head to SMan, but that is fine.  I do need the rest of it trimmed anyway.  Tangles are annoying.

Hmm...  Very chilly this morning.  Coffee, waking up, and all might help.  A shower before too long.  Oh, and I best make sure I can sign in so as to place an order before too long.  Life happens very fast at critical moments, if the rest of my life seems to tick by at a hundred years a second... or just the opposite?  I have learned to slow time, at times, and enjoy each moment.  I used to not enjoy that, but I certainly, often, do now.  Even when native painkillers don't stave off the suffering.  Save at those critical moments?  Yes.  Story telling, if you wish.  Though I might suggest what you suspect is a story isn't, and what you suspect isn't the story is.  Though, how can any be sure... even the story master.  Can't be.  Not ours to know, not quite yet.  Or there would be no stories.

I have been thinking, lately.  True, I don't trust women.  I don't.  I also don't trust, or eventually believe in, Santa.  But you know what?  I got Christmas presents, still do.  I didn't believe in the military, my fellows' ability to help, or my own self... and yet... here I am.  Belief is nice, but not necessary.  Oh, one day, some things will pass.  And some things shouldn't be given full trust.  For now, all things fail.  Some things should.  It won't ever make complete sense, can't.  Not yet.  There is a point to all that, but it is mine, not really to be shared this morning.  I suppose you can take away that belief isn't, and probably shouldn't be, the cornerstone.  But finding what is true, and holds up... and taking what, from those who offer it, that works, is enough.  It gets tricky as to how to write that out, exactly.  But it's in there.  It is faith, not belief, that will see you through... and beyond where I have even gone.  Something in there.  More coffee.  I'll be chewing on that for days now.  Tastes of whale, and has the feel of some things here and some things not.

Good day.

Out.

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It's killing me to get out.  This time I am in before I died.  Lots of shopping.  Bullets, milk, whole whipping cream, cat food, 1/2 pint jars, and some others, for epsom salts and stink essences which I think arrived.  I kept trying to call my friend.  Halfway through my rounds, I stopped and ate.  I was quite hungry.  I tried again and finally got him.  Napping.  Dang kids!  He went along for the ride, and for a few essentials at the store.  While looking at ammunition, I was speaking with one of the fellows in the 'bang' department.  Actually my friend started it, by showing me the .50 ammo.  Oh, I'd love a .50 bmg.  But it would eat me out of house and home feeding her.  But a .338 lapua mag might... just might... be doable.  But those are so pricey too.  He was thinking, pretty much, along those lines as well.  Oh, but he suggested, we carry one.  Oh?  Yeah, about $2200... $2100 and change, but I figured after taxes, travel, fees, and whatever else... anyway...  Right over h..e..r..e.  Oh!?!  Oh yeah.  I looked.  A scope for that would be about half that added on.  Still...  Never mind.  Just... salivating.

Then to here, and then there, gas was needed, lots of little things.  The bank was visited.  Bits and pieces.  All quite good.  But my is it warm out there.  I don't know, but I am thinking 60?  I was sweating it.  Still, I want to get back in tomorrow.  The haircut.  And my friend wants to go.  He doesn't feel proper unless his hair is short.  He was glad I was going in to shorten mine, until I told him I'm just getting a partial hawk.  I told him, they might laugh at me, but they only do it in front of you!  :)  Good to be king.

At one place I stopped, the woman hated me at first glance.  After a bit of time, she almost gave me her number.  The devil you say!  I sometimes wonder, but... no.  Just kin.  I love me some woman hate!  Especially in this mood, and when I can blithely dance away with my scalp.  I got my dues, all I was after.  *wink*  I really need to get out more.  Goose honking to a gander is music, especially when they start out in a fowl mood.  *honk honk*  Love me some flounder, too.  That little switch between hate and love blush is... to die for.  *flip flop*

Goofy mood, must be about crash time.  I need to cool down, slow down, and THEN fall down though.  Ugh.  Good night.

Alive, well, and getting somewhere.

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I decided to skip taking anything other than regular medicine.  The pain is fading anyway, and I wanted to enjoy the last little spot of it, as a sunburned man might want to see the sun go down.  Something, if not quite exactly that, like that.  My mind has been trying to figure out the day, and days ahead.  I have been putting the breaks on, only wanting to keep a clean path for this day, and a simple path at that.  Tomorrow will yield as it may.  Plans will be made at another time for that.  Not now.  Keeping it simple, right now, is vital... for reasons I do not fully grasp but believe.

As I was sorting through past days, thoughts of various sorts, and life in general... while trying to remove the sludge of sleep, pain, and illness, a message.  The sender?  Who ever knows, if I suspect.  A hoary beast, even of light, but of ancient natures, I know not to know even when I know... only to suspect.  And, so, I do.  Even without knowing, I always suspect.  The notion that a quid pro quo dame is the nature of another's game.  And whose game that might be.

Oh, and fair enough.  I have most certainly known that.  And should I have remained healthy I would be right in those shoes.  Any of my similar sort has to know such things.  Manufactured, natural, or even unnatural, of origin, matters little.  We are what we are.  Drawn, as moths to flames all of our own, made for us by the cosmos.  None, not nephilim, not the coyote, crow, shapeshifter, or other, has no... weakness.  If those weaknesses, tended rightly, can lead to greater strength.  A riddle only some may know, or unlock unknowingly.  Though to make clear, it was not weakness in my poor health that kept me from the sanctuary in the hymns of Thanatos.  It was merely that I could not maintain my interest in the fires such offered, and so I drifted off.  Still, I know the call, and the dames, and the... ways and worries and costs of such.

A mild grin.  No sympathy, the gift, as all, has a price.  Perhaps a little pride to know that one of my fellows knows as I do, and about that which I speak, from time to time.  One or none, on some things.  And, of course, a lot of humor about it all.  Women, of each nature, are wonders.  A good woman, as she is, comes with great cost.  Some balance in the economy of love, I suppose.  But... a joy.  To us, and to them.  Maintained for a lifetime, a proof of the gifts of life and love.  A terrible and beautiful thing, this nature we bear.  Some know it.  Some don't.  I like to think, from the message, that I do if distantly for various reasons and currently.  But those I might call friends know it deeply and personally.  The world has been righted.  The fox sees much.

Hmm...  right...  I will hold off on breakfast, and make for town a bit earlier than perhaps I expected.  A bit of shopping, maybe some target practice, and hopefully a bit of socializing.  Oh, I best remember a couple of movies, and one to return.  Interesting.  My friend loaned Lucy.  I, when I saw the star (or co-star) almost quit the thing.  Still...  Yes, I see.  I see why it was lent.  A story.  Some notions.  A bit of wonder.  All I can say is some things aren't ever to be spoken.  Oh, and... now I know who the starlet is who he has fallen for, and to a degree why.  I do prefer her as a redhead, if maybe that was due to my personal, if unknowing, introduction to her.  All good.  Later.

Has anyone been run over while being gutted?

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Just seeing if that is just me.  I must have pushed every... button, edge, and limit yesterday.  I didn't end up taking a nap.  I lost track after calling my friend, but stayed awake while... waiting for what I knew not (the phone call, but I had forgotten).  I stretched, and pulled, and stayed, and... Then it was time for the meeting.  I decided to head out at 17:00, so as to have time to grab a quick meal, which I also sorely needed (no breakfast, an unusual thing lately).  I was already carrying a worsening headache, and nausea.  I thought a meal, and maybe even fresh air, might help.  If the meal helped, I did not notice.  The sun, actually, was making the thing worse.  I have been well cloistered lately.  Not only was the sun bright, leaking in on the headache to boot, it is becoming the spring sun... a more potent thing than the still winterish sun the last time I was out.

I drove to the meeting place, well early.  I realized, however, I would not make it through a meeting without something bad happening.  I was starting to see stars, my migraine was intensifying and the otc painkillers I took and food were having no positive effects, the stomach was churning so that I wasn't sure I would be keeping my food, and I was quickly losing cohesion.  Thankfully home was just a short drive away, if even that was pulling teeth to reach.  Still, I made it home, sick as I could be.  I do not remember the way things worked once home.  I think I put the vehicle away.  I am pretty sure I got out of most of my clothes.  I am certain, at some point or other, I ended up in my bedroom, on my bed... And the fan was on when I woke.  Moving air usually, for me, helps with an upset stomach.  I was beginning to suspect this was more than just having gone too far over too many lines.  Had I missed medications for a while?  I didn't think so, but...  Flu, something else?  Couldn't think.  Things that ran through a nearly fevered mind, in great pain, while trying to keep the contents of my stomach in place.  After the draino, even so many decades past, retching is still a ghastly horror that I try never to ever go through again.  Better to just die, my mind says... or something in there says.

Sleep, actually, after I could leave pains and turmoil of flesh behind, became good.  I am sure, for an hour or three, I was struggling to dive deeper and away from the horror of the physical.  Eventually I went out.  How far the pain stayed I cannot say.  I suspect I was partially aware for that first solid stretch.  And as I surfaced a bit past that.  But then...  Waking, just a bit ago, I thought all was good... at first.  Up, out, morning functions, coffee, and then here.  After just a bit of typing, some of the pain surfaced.  I was becoming horrified, as it approached slowly.  I didn't know how seriously it would return, the volume kept increasing.  It ends up that it was like a volume adjustment knob.  It came up, a little beyond what I would like... probably nerves reconnecting... then toned back down.  Just a mild, very minor, reminder and remnant.  Still, a few anacin to begin the day.

My friend did end up calling back yesterday, pretty late in the afternoon.  He sounded like he was just coming out of, or going into, a nap.  I suggested I would be in today.  Despite yesterday, at least now that I am thinking I am in the clear, I still plan on making it in.  I had thought early afternoon.  I am thinking, probably, earlier than that.  I do not want to push my day that long today.  I woke later this morning, 4:30 or so rather than the 00:30 last night.  And if a nap is doable at 8:00-9:00, I will take two hours down.  I think it was just time, and sun, and no food.  When I get used to food, it sort of becomes... needed.  Daily meals?  Who knew?  Addiction, with a nasty added bite when missed.  I don't think most of you could live like I have lived for most of my adult life.  Like living under water, just bobbing up once and a while for air and nutrients... for decades until most recently.  Mostly dead indeed.  I sort of like being, I think, now, mostly alive.  But... it's more complex to tend.  :p

Well, at least I am back up to some decent snuff already.  And still willing to push through.  I have to register for STEP today.  All good.  Oh, and write Desert Cat about any greater want or need for tickets.  Crazy lot of stuff, all at once, while I am tip-toeing between life and death.  But... it's my gig.  Been doing that for longer than I have otherwise been healthily alive, and longer than some of you have been alive sum total.  I'm tricky that way.  *wink*  Don't count me for dead until I say so.  Trust me.  *chuckling*  Yeah...

Well... reading, writing, and more coffee.  You can have the arithmetic, for now.  Not in my schooling plans for the day.  In spite, or because, of it all?  Wonderful!  I love me some suffering!  It reminds me just how alive I really am.  Delicious!  Something for which to give thanks, if an incredible bank shot way to find myself doing so.  I am Doom, children.  I can do those things.  Later. 

If you can't work, play?

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I won't tell you that is a philosophy or theory, only what I am working with today.  I would rather stay and work, but it isn't ending up that such will happen.  I can't work.  But I may have enough energy to push on through and get out.  I need food, perhaps my friend just wants a meal?  I need to get out, and I'll bet he does too.  What will an outing include?  I know not, at the moment.  I will take a few firearms, just in case.  Oh, and some ammunition.  I called.  He didn't answer.  I'll wait just a bit, call in an hour if I still haven't heard from him.  I'll go to town even if it ends up that he has other affairs.  Oh, and a meeting tonight.  Right...  I am trying to get caught up and do some things. 

Tomorrow I have to sign up for ticket sales.  Hmm, best check to see if another friend still wants me to attempt to secure two tickets.  I'm not sure what is up with the vehicle pass.  I am thinking that is new since I went last time.  Not sure, don't remember it if not.  Not that I remember much.  Huh?  Yeah... hush!  All fun and games until... what?  Not that bad today, or ever really, save when very tired as per regulations.  Though sometimes it just happens.  I'll email, in case he doesn't read this.

I actually don't even want to play.  I don't want to go out.  I simply have too much going to just sit and yet not enough going to work.  My play, right now, is almost as difficult as work.  I am sort of parenting myself, by not allowing me to just stay in on such a grand day.  It's... not really grand.  Sunny, warm, and all.  But ask any kid who doesn't want to go out, and "grand" is definitely subjective.  Even if it is.  Never mind.  Back when, I knew it was because mom wanted to rest, or was having company over, or such.  In this case, I don't have that grumble.  :p

I am a bit rough.  Medicine is being taken, mostly.  I haven't reset the pillbox, or added the new stuff, but it's on the way.  I know, as the days and nights warm, I will get to it.  Still, rough.  Sleep has been good, I'm not actually in bad shape, more like rusty.  The joints in my neck are stiff.  Probably too much sitting, to many hours looking at the screen.  A little fresh air, walking, and plinking might clear some of that up.  Or not.  Who knows.  All good.

Well... I suppose... oh, right, waiting for a call back.  I'm not in a hurry, if my stomach is.  I really am hungry.  Later.

Way too much fun.

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Recent events, I had thought, was just a little spat.  A woman pretending to be a man, and initially being treated as one until she completely broke down under the slightest pressure.  Women really can't take what passes as the currency in debate that any man not only expects, but delivers.  Rather than being iron on iron, it becomes iron on mud.  Then, when I realized what was happening, and had a great laugh about it, it has become another conflagration.  Now, it did start with me pissing off the man-pack.  Not going along to get along, asking questions that aren't answerable in a forthright, or good, way.  Like questioning the support of Putin because it was based on economics... betting on the evil dog, so supporting it.  While none would attack those things directly, they tried to attack me, personally, in other ways.  Yes, I saw this.  Petty, but typical pack formation and action.

The reason the women/woman got involved was because the man pack, having been rebuffed (the women should have noted this, but women are women, and their men are their men), left a bunch of tired, sore, wounded men for women to have to deal with.  So, they attacked the source of those wounded manlings.  The new attack is off and on.  Women aren't good at this sort of thing, about as good as they are at debating.  Once I realized, through sniff and taste, what I was up against, and what all had happened, I have laughed so hard in my mind that I am surprised something hasn't ruptured.  I don't think the man pack is over having their alpha and false notions shredded.  Still a bit sore, but getting over some things.  Still, betting on evil under the guise of being libertarian or anti-American (anti-Western in whole, but the worst parts of it, in their theories), is bull and I called it such.  The women have been routed just as easily, if more quickly.  But they are still violently sore, and will remain so, off and on, for the rest of their natural lives.  A great little joy, to me, that.

They still can't believe that I can see.  They don't believe other things, things that are right in front of them.  They might even know, but emotion doesn't allow the facts to be considered within their reactions.  So, training will be ongoing.  I did learn a few things though.  Some others can see, if not so well.  I watched as the lead male realized and scooted.  He knows, and he does use what he knows.  He also has limits.  He can't make x or y do z or q.  He can only do, or not, what he does.  So, he let it go and washed his hands of it if he will continue to do what I considered questionable.  So, yeah, others can see.  And he saw more than just what I quietly, implicitly, implied.  He saw what I thought, one of my private concerns, and checked that off the list for me, explicitly.  The other thing I learned is that the female pack has been... reading, here, and deeply.  They are the ones who have been categorizing, linking the thoughts, words, and music.  They stay off the radar, to my weak tech eyes... but as I said, I am not a child of tech.  I am a beast of flesh and spirit, and see with other means.  Now I know.  I thought, at times, that it was just the one.  Now I know.  It's a gossip of gals, and they think they have me, or at least my story, pegged.  And, to a degree, they do.  But, as I mentioned, knowing means nothing compared to feelings, for dames.

I'm just enjoying the game.  Physical, or psychic, bloodsport is my game.  Not at all concerned, either, on any other front.  My life is a miserable thing, but a promise, and even more now, allow me some small pleasures and joys in life.  But it is a miniscule, anemic, sick thing.  Taking it, more now that I have come to great grace, more than most of my kind believed ever possible, or even I deserve, means nothing.  While quite wrong, so it should be discouraged... God has His reasons for my continuation... if that time is up, I should not have any fear or shame.  I will be mildly thankful, if I will pray for your soul in your darkness, so that you might yet find heaven.  Slay, but know... that's a dark path leading most certainly only to hell, a path that once traveled is nigh on to impossible to leave.  The pride and hubris required to consider slaying another to protect a lie such as feminism is not easily surrendered.

Oh, I laugh, and chuckle, chortle, and grin.  The game has been wonderful, even with some of the female pack still growling, if hiding away.  Love me some whine, white as it is.  Love tackling lies and pettiness and powder puff bravado!  The men were interesting, but learned quickly... a testament to the knowledge of their limits from past encounters with things of the wild.  Delicious.  Now I'm hungry!  Dang it... what to eat...  Meh, I'll have to make it to town today.  I need a full load, and don't have enough thawed, or the extra bits, or energy in any case, to make it work correctly.  Double yum! 

Still struggling to get my schedule right.

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The recent time change did not help.  Though that is just a minor confusing factor.  I need to fix my clocks still.  Yeah, at least when I look at the clocks I do know they are wrong, after a moment of thought.  And I am still physically down.  Though messing with the sleep cycle is a factor in low energy and poor concentration.  That is why they call it a cycle.  Generally it is a downward cycle.  As with the recent falls, however, bottom isn't being neared.  I guess you could call them hanging falls, and suspended downward cycles.  While I lose the ability to climb out, I also don't crash.  At first I wasn't sure those things were better.  I had never experienced such things before, not on this scale.  Now I believe they are, or potentially are, much better.  If I had just got stuck there, then fall hard, it would have been considered worse, as it would have extended the declines.  As is, it's more like a tight-rope walker falling into nets just far enough down that there is still a way back up... I think.  I haven't quite gotten back up, or for long.  But it seems like just a little thing.  Getting the energy to get back up and walk, but without a long climb back up, is what I face.  I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

Dreams, again.  I have been napping in the early afternoon.  But the naps have been too long and too hard.  I need to try to nap earlier, and keep it short.  That takes focus.  I don't have much focus, so it will take all of it.  As with above, I think I can.  I'll work on it today.  I woke for dinner yesterday, but then pretty much crashed right after.  Waking at half past midnight, for me to push through to the evening is going to be a long haul.  I'm on that.  I'll give it a whirl.

I have begun doing small things.  Cooking breakfast, doing a few dishes here and there, taking the trash out.  Very small things.  That is where and how it has to start for me.  Sometimes I can jump in, relatively, as a shock troop, taking job after chore after task.  That isn't the norm, though was becoming the norm more so, if very off and on, in the last few years.  I am almost sure I am nearing a corner.  Or... maybe that is it, but I think there is more.  How much more is always going to be unknown.  But I swear, I came from doing the impossible.  Even then it was always unknown what more could be done.  Perhaps this condition, though, is a part of doing that.  There is a price for burning both ends of the candle.  Risks.  Like it or not, I am not risk averse.  Which... is why I like women so much?  Yeah.  :)

Just waking.  A mug of coffee in my paw, more to come.  Thinking and tallying, planning and hoping, but generally in a cheery mood.  As cheery goes for such creatures.  It means the same for me and you, internally.  Externally, the exhibition of it might cause some heartburn.  Meh.  All good. 

I do want to get to town.  I'll check my stocks, but I think I am low on vinegar.  I'd like to set up eggs for pickling.  Hmm, and I need the usually perishables.  Further, if not this or next month, soon...  I have decided, after the trip to visit my brother with my mother, I will have everything arranged to begin quitting tobacco again.  So, each month, I will buy a box or two of nicotine patches.  The trip will be in late fall, so I have plenty of time.  I want a four month supply, which should be easy enough to accumulate.  Not for health... I don't actually believe them on that, or of money as I spend less than $30 a month on it... just to get rid of an addiction.  I have done it before, but my timing sucked and I failed.  I don't plan on failing again.  But the timing has to be right.

Hmm... a shower, before long.  Messing with the clean clothes, and if that happens easily and quickly enough, then on to washing the dirty clothes.  Maybe hitting the living room a bit.  Whatever I can squeeze out of the day.  That might push a nap at the right time, too.  Look, it's like I'm in a hospital.  Only I am the doctor, nurse, attendant, and patient.  It's a tricky thing.  Still, it's not too bad.  No single has enough time and energy to do it all, which is why marriages happen, innit?  Yeah.  Men and women need right and left arms that are each other... and some of that sweet loving... to bind the wounds of life?  Yep, and a bit more.  As much as I razz women, I don't fail to note the good, at least in my mind.  Might not even always trust, if I am not sure that is possible I also know it isn't absolutely necessary.  That is part of what faith is for, among other things.  Later.

Ah, right. The liar.

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Sometimes it takes a while, sometimes it is quick.  Sometimes I write about it, sometimes I don't.  I probably would have let it pass, but someone was sniffing around.  Looking at long ago posts.  No certainty, but... I suspect it was the antagonist, Steve.  Sometimes communication is had through what, exactly is reviewed here.  A veiled threat?  Weak, but plausible.  Questions, doubts, those too.  But some, perhaps, dawning awareness.  From these things, I collected this and that, took a closer "look" at Steve.  I realized "he" is a woman.  Perhaps one I have scented in these ways before.  SB?  I wondered why her he dropped and scooted.  He doesn't go there anymore.  Too expensive, not just on my account.  Possibly.  They are dim shadows, but my sight is better than any man's, at times, in places.  More so when called.  Yes, that would make sense.

Well, whoever it is, "Steve" is no man.  If you looked where I thought, you should understand how I see feminism.  It isn't just in me.  If I am War, then it is in every man.  It is, as well, even in women.  Actually it is stronger in feminists than they can resist, as their strength from lack of man-partnership for whatever reason, and often hormonal imbalances which can make them manish... which is why rage and hate are so common to them.  Their attempts to thwart certain truths through "independence" is why they go so wrong, go so far, and ultimately completely defeat themselves.  Much as my dark uncles must pervert in order to attempt to deny what they absolutely know to be true.  A smaller form factor, but with a greater loss.  Still, you may try as you like, in your little ways.  But the feminine is known to me, and so I know you no matter the name you choose.

Yes, he can see in the dark.  And he is looking right at you.  Hahahahaha!  So very rich!

Oh, no worries.  I don't care.  Simply and truly, do... not... care.  I only wanted you to know that I know and see.  Especially since you decided to nose around.  Have a good day.  Oh, and work on not being an emotional basket-case when you attempt to join men in debates.  You end up looking and sounding like a liar, without the physical aspect of feminine presence that accounts for the discrepancies.  Now... go bake a pie or something.

Oh, but... if you really want to kill me, feel free.  I must admit I... I truly... I love bloodsport.  Send your betas, perhaps toss in an alpha.  I'm not of the same type, they don't really have a chance.  Yet, if they do it as assassins, and are successful?  Cha-ching?  Dying for the truth, or even in as much of a state of grace as I have gotten to?  All good.  I can't lose that.  Sweetpea.  Yum!  "Oh, that, that, that!!!"  Yeah, I love you too!  *smooch*

Up and rather early.

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Nothing was sure about how sleep and waking would turn out.  With that later, and longer, nap yesterday, pushing and beginning small chores, I can never know.  The weather has warmed just a touch.  But being up an down, more than I would seasonally expect has been a highly variable causative factor all on it's own.  When I went to sleep at about a quarter after the eight bells of the first watch (midnight) I set the alarm for 6:00.  I didn't not know if I could sleep.  If I did so, whether I would wake.  Until 4:00... gah!  Gotta change that clock, after 5:00, though, I woke.  Rather chipper and rested.  I wanted to be up in time to get the trash and recycling rotated through and to the curb.  Should be able to do that, if I remember.

Dreams.  A few, I would guess.  Three, maybe four, but nothing remains other than the notion that I did dream.  And sleep was good.  Solid seeming.

Oh, I found my front door open the other day/night, after some waking or other.  I thought it very odd.  I checked the screen door behind it, but it was locked.  I checked all other windows and doors.  They were all closed and locked.  Hmm?  I don't know.  I really don't.  I remind you, I sit right in front of that door, and this room is not heated.  No vents, and the thick stone walls of the main house keep the warmth from passing into this room.  So, as easily as I can walk on frozen terrain, with or without snow, barefoot, that is, mostly, a gimmick.  I cannot handle just the open cold of winter.  When dinner arrives, about the only time I use that door, after the delivery, I close and lock that door.  And, being a bit of a... frightened and frightful recluse, I am tight with doors, windows, and all, being shut and locked.  I have never had that happen before in such a manner.  But I have mentioned, I do have ghosts.  Personal, not home bound, I think.  Rattling dishes in linen closets, lights turning on and off, and other things that are easily dismissed save over time.  No one was in this home, and the rest of the doors and windows, including the screen door past the open door, were quite secure.  Who knows.  Only bugs me about the possible draft making the furnace run longer and hotter.  A visitor stopped by and tried to rouse me.  I must have been well asleep.  I am sure he thought it as odd as I did... do.

Today?  Well, trash and recycling, of course.  Not much for trash, though more leaves will go.  But boxes.  More have come in, I didn't take the remnants from last time, so plenty there.  No room in the trash, with the leaves, but...  I'll do what I can once I wake.  Hopefully in an hour or two.  More coffee until then.  After that, a shower.  Mona is growing on me, once I got over the initial shock of having a beautiful lady watching me shower.  Her chaste visage, as it turns out, is actually heartening... once the creep factor was managed.  I may be bathing, soon enough, a time or two a week.  Due to some advice and testimonials from foam, in my last order I added a rack to stow things I now have on my tub surround... up so that a bath is easier (as is cleaning the tub).  I also ordered epsom salts and a small starter set of essential oils.  The next time I am in town I will buy a few pint, or half-pint jars.  And when it all arrives, I will mix and match, then start bathing.  I do need to soak a bit, feet mostly.  D-dang women types.  Not sure I trust em', even when they are right, if that doesn't always matter, isn't always necessary.  *grin*  Still, I'd like to get some bubble bath for once in a while.  Maybe a rubber ducky and some small matchbox vehicles.  I just can't go all feminine.  Frankincense?  Yep.  I'm curious about that one.

After the shower, and some time, I'll call my friend and see if he wants to get out.  Maybe even shooting if that is in his interest and matches the weather.  Dang kid is always on about shooting.  All good.  I want to get out too!  Might get some fresh air, a bit of sun, good company, and just some boys out doing as boys do.  Not a bad thing, mostly.  Just no rocks through the neighbors window.  It was an accident, but running away wasn't.  Yeah, I paid with my allowance... I think for a month.  Which was fine.  But after that, when I realized mistakes could be compensated, I didn't run when I did em' booboo.  Money is money, but it beats a bad conscience.

Now to wake.  Later.

A nap.

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Oh, well, an extended nap.  Trying to get days and nights sorted is... sometimes... a bit of a trick.  Getting an actual nap (for me, right at two hours), while pushing the clock around and trying to do a few things, is quite a trick.  Still, the nap was short enough that I think it will still work as intended.  Just a stop gap to get me over that lump of exhaustion at mid-day.  Should have napped earlier, but how a path will work, up ahead and out of view, is not always known until one rounds the bend and sees the layout.  I came, I saw, I napped.  Twas a good nap.

I had a couple of minor dreams.  The first one was deliciously terrifying.  Bull riding.  I have always wanted to do that, but nothing in my life put me in range of giving it a shot.  As a very young boy I somehow got in with a group who road calves.  I was probably no older than seven?  Something.  We had to rope it (with some help), then ride.  I didn't win, but we all got a dollar coin anyway.  I am sure the entertainment value was worth it to the men who ran the event.  I would have paid the dollar for the opportunity.  In any case, this was a full sized, plus, bull.  I looked like a regular cowboy on it, which means it must have been huge.  I remember climbing on it's back, in the shoot... the doubled gates.  They were keeping tight rains on it because it was known to be a bit wild.  Then a sound, was so focused on the bull that I can't remember if it was a whistle, shot, or buzzer.  Then off into the wild blue.  I did well.  Not sure if I won, but I rode for long enough to be taken seriously, and probably place.  What a ride.  Talk about ups and downs, and arounds!  Still a bit dizzy when I look at that part of it in the review panel.  I dismounted well enough, but went down (as I think is usual).  The damned thing did try to get me, actually did a bit.  Nothing serious, mud helps cushion and the stomp(s) and headbutts were just glancing.  May not have been real, but I remember the feel of the hide, the scent and feel of it's breath in the cool weather, and the absolute thrill.  It's as close as I will ever get, and I am happy for it.

I had another dream.  This time of cross country running.  I never liked that in real life.  But I liked the idea of it.  I'm just not built for cross country, even when I was a thinner, even thin, man and boy.  In the dream, though, I glided along at a fine clip.  I found my breath, and measure, and paced quite well.  Not a full marathon, more like a 5 or maybe 10 kilometer.  I don't remember wind, or too much heat.  But the feel of the road, the right pace of air and legs and arms, a sustainable tempo that I have found in swimming but never running.  It was a lovely dream.  Not as good as the bull ride, but, it too, I take happily.  Perhaps it was my knees.  I knew that too much running and they would go.  They never did, but I switched to swimming rather than running at every chance possible.  Old athletes are often physical wrecks.  Other than the knee spur thing from overuse even so, I haven't had a knee operation, thankfully.  I just never could, even when I honestly competed in such, could find my wind... to my mind... running.  I finally did.

I'll be awake a few more hours, then figure my way back to bed.  I am trying not to wake too much.  A small trajectory, a low ceiling, then a crash back to the mattress, I hope.  Hmm, could call my friend, set something up for tomorrow.  Later, or maybe good night.

Amazing.

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Have you ever had someone question you in such a manner as to be dripping with lies?  While I can be wrong, ignorant, mistaken, or such... lies aren't something I disgrace my lips or fingers with.  Some, however, have nothing else to offer.  They know they don't tell the truth, and they mean exactly that.  Speak with a liberal.  Ask them something serious.  They, if it is inconvenient to their beliefs, simply attempt to change the subject.  At least those who are merely greedy will simply suggest suggest they know but don't care.  Fair enough.  But to live so deeply in lies that someone can't dare face the facts is a whole different level of evil.  Many houses.  Whatever is hidden inside all of those lies must be terrible indeed.  That, thankfully, is for Another to sort.  Still, while here, I will not bandy words with them... when I realize what I am dealing with.

While they are a living form of death, they are not death.  For death is true.  Trying to lie to War about international intrigue that may lead to war is not a good way to make friends.  He will know.  Somethings, I am sure, are quite unknown.  This is not one of those things.  Though, whether just a typical demoliar, or a propaganda man for the Putin machine...  Unknown.  Certainly a yes-man to whatever rotten mechanisms run his life.  To think that is all that seems to have access to power these days...

Looks to be a nice day.

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The sun is up and smiling.  I'm keeping it out, not quite ready for happy smiling stars quite that close.  And yet, I can enjoy some of the light that sneaks through the light armor I have in place, and know it wouldn't be too bad to go out, at some point, into the day.  I'm not sure how cool it is.  I suspect it is, or was, pretty cool.  I also expect that the cool won't last long.  All seemingly obvious but that isn't always the case.  Not this, or a few other, times of the year.  Probably 40's or 50's, if I had to speculate, at the highs today.  I'd love to get out, but I have a few things to do and tomorrow is when I would prefer to get out.

I'll give my friend a call sometime this afternoon or evening.  I am going to try to make it to 19:00, maybe 20:00 tonight.  No guarantees, just a goal for now.  I did hit the dishes.  Mostly washed, rinsed, and dried.  I cleaned some of the counter.  I need to soak the cast skillet a bit before applying elbow grease, then putting it back to use for breakfast.  Bacon, I do believe.  Eggs, toast, and coffee should fill out the menu well.  Nothing fancy, but it will do.  Oh, right.  The next time I do rounds or otherwise find myself in, or passing through, the kitchen, I need to reset the clocks.  Yeah, that time of year ago. so I was told, so I was told.  Twice, mind you. 

I washed the three remaining half-gallon jars from pickled pork hocks.  I plan to pickle eggs.  Three jars will work for now.  I'm not sure how long they need to cure, probably more for taste than anything else though.  I need to get the kitchen in better shape before messing with that project, but having the jars ready is a start.  I figure I can keep one jar in the fridge, the rest downstairs.  I won't go through a jar all that quickly.  Still, in a pinch, it's nice to have some oddball along with the regular.  I'd like to store more hog's feet, pickled.  I really do enjoy those treats.

Hmm...  Today?  Since I am planning to get to town tomorrow, and I am just slowly coming off the infirmary list, I will be taking it slow.  I think the first thing I want to do, or next, is deal with the clothes that need to be put away.  If I get that done, then on to a load of laundry, or two, maybe three actually if the shower curtains will be done in a separate small load.  I don't trust that rust stuff.  Hmm, though perhaps something in with them?  Old towels that I use for the floor, or such?  Dunno.  As well, I would like to get the bathroom floor cleaned so I feel right about putting down the shower mat and toilet rug.  I just don't like putting clean, or new, down on... questionable.  No sir.  Might take a week to get that done, or not, but I won't install until it is clean and dry.

Well, all theory for now.  Possible, hopeful, but far from sure.  Life.  Love it or... never mind.  Good day.

That was a fine sleep.

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If it were a meal, while not a holiday feast (I mean the better kind), it was like a perfect dinner.  Satisfying without feeling stuffed at the end, bits and more of favorites new and old, all the satisfaction, none of the bloat.  A reminder of what defines the ideal of sleep is good to have once in a while.  Sleep, in these days, has been pretty good. The last three years, give or take, have seen me to almost normal sleep, usually.  Contrast that with decades of never being awake or asleep, ever.  While my sleep cycle is still off, meaning regularity is nigh on to impossible, having, usually, some form of smaller sleep cycle and longer waking day, with clear differences, has been... literally a Godsend.  You cannot know the difference.  It takes years of no real sleep to understand.  I understand why I was so distraught earlier on.  I am surprised I was ever able to find any kind of balance and not drop into complete alcoholism.  Alcohol, with all it's faults, sometimes could trip my system and allow for sleep.  And with sleep, a real waking cycle or three after.  Thing is, as much as I enjoyed that, and alcohol, I could never really learn to truly like it.  While I could consume vast volumes, I could not continue to drink.  One time, one shot, then I needed to rest from it for days, but more usually a week or more.  Just an oddity to go in with the others.

I am sure I dreamed.  Nothing too troubling, or outstanding.  It is just that the sleep seemed... fertile?  It wasn't a dead, flat, empty sleep.  I don't mind remembering dreams, good or bad, usually.  I much prefer something in there, remembered or not, than nothing.  At least as a general rule.  It adds depth, or a time scale, or life, to sleep... at least as I generally sense things.  Yes, last night was a perfect sleep.

As I was waking I noticed the dream of another.  In it they were terrified.  They dreamed of death, and life after, but not the type that would be reassuring.  A woman, I am almost sure, was the dreamer.  The dream was that, when she died, she indeed lived on.  But not passing into another form.  She dreamed she lived forever in her rotting corpse.  A horrible dream, to be sure.  I tried to send her comfort but she was too tightly wrapped in her dreams.  So I just prayed for her.  Terrible dream, terrible notion.  It wasn't my dream, and I believe I have seen it not to be true, so the dream was just a "good nightmare", as I say.  Yes, I do like my nightmares, even one as such.  But others don't.  She was definitely of the type who do not enjoy nightmares, and this was one of her 'grand-daddy' nightmares.  I hope she left it in her sleep.  Don't ask me how I saw, or if it was real.  Perhaps I dreamed that I saw it, wasn't awake.  But that doesn't seem the case to me.

Ah, today?  Having started a few things yesterday, I am hoping to do a bit more today.  I have decided, other than hitting the bathroom a bit, and doing dishes, I am going to leave off out there.  I had it set, the bathroom and kitchen, give or take.  Going back in would be nice, but I think I will move on to the living room.  I will begin clearing and straightening, then dusting and vacuuming.  I may work to get shelving for the various components that go with the television, putting the devices up.  And, then, steam vacuuming the joint.  If I keep going back to what I just did, I'll never move forward, I have decided.  If nothing else, I will keep the layers, per area, to a minimum, by hitting and moving on.  It's as good as I can personally do, I think.  So, I will do it.

Showered last night, perhaps I'll fix something to eat before the sun is up as well.  A bit of blogging and new sifting and coffee consumption as I wake.  Not fantastic, but it is something, and a start.  It's probably nearly required.  So it goes.  Have a good morning.

Up until 14:00.

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Or, almost.  It is time to sleep though.  Not sure if I have found a near pattern, or am just cycling through with an odd off-kilter rotation.  No matter.  I always find it funny, when after being told that I see in the dark, having startled looks when, there I am, looking at them.  Seeing through space, sometimes even time.  Oh, most likely, they don't see me.  They just read the description of what I saw and startle.  There is no belief so good as first-hand experience.  I'm experiencing them.  No worries, I disbelieve when I can.  It's a troubling thing, even to suspect.  Easier to disbelieve.  Still, the startled looks, raised eyebrow... then, often, dismissal.  Couldn't be.  And, of course, they are right.  Lots of things that can't be are, but it doesn't make it impossible.  *grins*

I didn't actually wash the dishes, but I did set them to a fresh soapy soak.  Eggs, ham, and diced fried onion made for a reasonable breakfast, or lunch.  I am nearly out of thawed meat though.  I'll think on it.  I need to get into town soon.  Maybe Monday morning, or near noon more likely.  I'll get my friend out for a bite, or shopping, maybe shooting if it actually clears and warms.  Dang kids, always on about never getting to go anywhere!  Yeah, well, I'm one of the kids too, if that doesn't confront me none.  Just as long as I get paid next payday.

Ah, one of the other things I ordered was fluoride-free toothpaste.  I simply do not trust fluoride, for regular use.  When I realized that is the same stuff they dosed Jews, as they were going into concentration camps, I realized it couldn't be a good thing.  I had always wondered why they hadn't fought.  Just as I wonder why Americans are just allowing Zero to do whatever.  It makes me wonder what else is in most food, the water, and even the air.  Yeah...  No, I... I'll brush now, and have started.  Your money, your choice.  Don't trust doctors, or dentists.  At the very least they know not what they do.

On to bed I do believe.  I don't think I'll read at bedtime anymore, for sure.  Good night... day.

A bit of checking.

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A shower, first thing this morning.  Although I had been awake all night, so not sure that is precise.  Still, at about sunup, so I'm calling it "first thing".  After I put the new shower curtains up, that is.  Had to go enjoy the "new".  I don't much care for new, except when I do.  And I did.  Even with a woman staring at me, naked as a bear, I performed admirably!  D-dang women types!  Make me stutter, or... can.  After that I loaded dishes to be washed, in hot sudsy water.  Luckily I had a large kitchen pot to hold some of it, and a huge kitchen bowl to hold a few other things.  I don't know if I will get to much else today.  Though, when I wake up, I should be able to give everything a quick wash and set to soak in fresh bubbly.  I have been so backed up on dishes that, yes, they need two washes.  When I catch up and keep up, I don't mind a single very hot wash and rinse.  It isn't germs that bother me, it's getting to the shine.  I've eaten grubs for heavens sakes.  Not worried about some things, for sure.

When I wake I may also try to hit some laundry.  I really don't know what I can get done.  I will be a little cautious.  Actually, I still have two baskets of clothes that are, mostly, tended.  I just need to put the articles up, on hangers, or such.  Yeah, I'll do that before I do more laundry.  Bleh.  I'm trying to get back to my feet.  It, obviously, wasn't stress from the potential for loan arrears, it was simply the cold, I think, that took me down.  Hmm...  I wonder if a wife might cure that?  Oh?  Depends on the woman?  Ah.  True that!  :)  A boy, even an abnormal one, can dream.  And I do!

Life is improving, slightly.  Always a good thing.  I'm not sure if this upward tick is momentary or will be here for a bit.  I did check the herbals, at least the ones I have here.  They look ready to go.  Further, there seems to be some balance.  One, for example, suggests that blood sugar may go down, another suggests that it will go up.  Check.  I should monitor that, though generally I can tell if that is bad.  Honestly, something that takes my blood sugar down can't be a bad thing.  I am guessing, from the last few times I bothered to check, that my blood sugar is somewhere between 200 and 300.  Every time I get my insulin to a level where it works, I run out, or there is a delay, or I forget to order and have to use old stuff that becomes very weak very quickly.  When I am in, next, I will see if they can deliver more than a two month supply.  I bet she thought that was cute.  Why women shouldn't be doctors.  Yeah, I asked for more than that and, it seems, she just ignored me.  Perhaps the other docs can convince her.  Bleh.  Passive-aggressive doesn't work in medicine. 

Well...  I'm sort of in 'between land'.  Neither awake, fully, nor ready for sleep.  Not feeling good, or bad, if the funny bones are still thrumming, with the right, or wrong, stimuli.  *zing*  Been laughing on and off all morning.  Oh the things I think about you in this mood!  You are teh funny!  Oh... go on.  You are too!  It's a clever mood.  Won't win me a medal or a trophy or anything, possibly not even friends, might lose some?  Nah, my friends weren't weened on dill pickles.  Usually.  Later.

A few items.

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Each month I make a few purchases.  For home, for prep, perhaps some food items.  An eclectic mix of need, want, utility, and spice of one sort or another.  This order was mostly domestic, not really a need but not without utility.

Among the things were shower curtains.  Both a liner and an outer curtain.  One of the womenfolk I once knew introduced me to double curtains.  It stuck.  While the one up is not at an end, and will be washed and stored, I simply decided to change the view.  I chose a rendition of Mona Lisa this time.  Something classic, something I have considered since youth.  Some things of antiquity simply remain, in some probably great part because they were done very well.  I ignore modern revisionists and cast them out as Christ cast out money-changers.  Not from the temple of our Father, mind you, but from the mind and because of their natures which is wholly a lie.  As well, since I am tending the bathroom a bit more diligently, I decided to purchase bathroom rugs.  Though I will sweep and mop again before putting those down.  Yes, yes, moving toward greater domestication with, perhaps, a touch of... provincial in form perhaps... culture.

I had meant to just take the items to the bathroom, and store them until I am working again.  The "do now" bug stung me, though, half way through simply stowing.  Up they went.  As is, I only have one set of bath curtain runners, so both curtains go onto one set.  I am considering buying another set, though I don't know if that is the best idea.  Still, it is easier, when changing both curtains, to have them both on the same devices.  The old curtains will be washed.  I am sure the outer one is still good, but the clear one may have served it's purpose.  Still, it could make a decent, possibly disposable after reuse, ground cloth for something, or painting ground cloth, or waterproof cover for something.  So it may simply be folded, if the rust stains do not go away, and stuck out in the garage for another day.  While not a greeny, by a long shot, I am a believer in wasting not, wanting not.  And, a nickle is a nickle, innit?  Plus, anything I want takes either a shopping run to town or an order and shipment.  Nothing, out here, is as free as for cityfolk.  So, holding onto little things, is as much efficiency of living, saving a nickle or three, as it is about having what could be handy without the hassle of hunting.

As well, some of the products which some suspect help heart patients have arrived.  Not all.  I need to set up my pillbox anyway.  Though I believe I will wait until the rest arrive.  I will approach these much as I approach any medicine.  I will start with one type, see how that goes after a month, or two.  Can't be too careful with this stuff.  If it shares anything with it's prescription sisters, it isn't to be trifled with.  If things go well, then I may add another.  Some things are purely vitamins.  So I can take without issue.  Some are very specific herbs or such, and those will be dealt with very cautiously.  It's not so much that I fear death.  It's more that, now that I have gotten a good healthy taste of life, off and on these last few years, I would like a bigger bite of it.  I think these, perhaps, might allow for that.  Certainly worth some minor risks and a few coins.

I don't know what, if anything, else I may get to today.  A shower would be nice.  And a bit of a pleasant one, with Mona covering my... indiscretionables?  Something.  New things can make life just a bit better, for a while.  And I have had that other shower curtain in use since I moved here... perhaps since Iowa?  Memory fails, just that it has been at least five years.  Yeah, a change.  Don't expect much change around here.  Just a touch, now and then.  Mostly just new tools and the like.  I suppose, once in a while, I've got to fool them, and prove I yet live?  :)

Later.

I woke in 'teh funny'.

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Ever wake, and the whole world tickles the mind?  Thankfully, no personal interactions are happening.  I don't think the world is quite ready for me thinking it is delicious and with no blocks on my narratives regarding such.  I have no real good means of resisting, and am not sure there is anything that would induce me to do so.  That part of my brain must still be in bed.  Ah, but it is quite fine.  Well, there has been some interaction already today.

Some man/boy, through Amazon, wanted to know about a potentially lethal experiment with a particular product.  He put the query out there, and amazon sent it along to buying customers.  All good, that is one very solid mechanism Amazon has going for it.  I suggested, that while he could do that, or anything he wanted really, I highly recommended against it.  I suggested, if he had a safe way to test it, and the skills and tools to do so, go ahead.  But I strongly advised against "just finding out", and I should have added that trusting someone else, on the net, blindly, would be foolish as well.  But then I added... "Wait, who did you say you were, again?".  -  If you don't get it, never mind.

Memories and darkness, women and friends, enemies and joys, melding into an half dream, half real fondue of dense liquid laughable goo.  It's a treat.  Oh, it comes around once in a while.  It's just that today the thing is at crescendo magnitude.  Yes, yes I am laughing at, and with, and around, even you.  Oh, but it's so delicious, if you could share in a bite of it, you would have not troubles joining, and pointing right back at me, all to hysteric mutual giggles and grins.  Madness?  Who cares!  I suspect, in times like these, Bugs Bunny was born.  Oh indeed.

Well... on to something... with a grin.  I hope it is infectious.  Later.

So many things to do.

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Between what I want to do, what I plan to do, what I can do, and the various areas where work, planning, and prep converge or diverge, it is difficult to keep lists, keep on track, and and bust through.  I have found that, while I can order pieces and parts, along with main task items, when I decide to hit something it is best to hit it all at once.  That, of course, isn't always possible.  A tool, or part, might not have realized to be needed.  Even then, though, the thing is to stay on it, either pushing finances, certainly energy and time, to sticking with the project.  Otherwise it can be a while before it comes around again.  The stoppages in getting the faucet installed, and then the parts, and the several rounds of that.  What should have been a relatively simple task, because I had to get parts twice, ended up taking, what, a year and an half?  Yeah.  In that case, there was little I could do.  I couldn't just go get the parts, and I wasn't able to maintain the effort.  Simple but real limits.

I am sort of confused with so many areas I wish to proceed.  Cleaning my home, while easy enough in a way, is beyond just not my forte.  Organization isn't so much a weak skill as a foreign language translated into emoticons related to clothing syle... for me.  It's not impossible, just not a hurdle I can handle most of the time.  Fixing the bathroom is more along my idea of things I can, eventually do.  But it is a complex series of simple to complex tasks all centered on creating a functional area for hygiene and such.  Each might be small, but each task can take anywhere from half a day to a week, depending.  If I need to replace the sub-floor, for example, before putting in... whatever...  Yeah.  Of course, there is the notion of prepping, then maintaining, food stores, hand tools, and the rest.  Sometimes things go together.  Hand tools for work in the bathroom.  Sometimes they just work better anyway.  Or, on small jobs, the difference isn't noticed.  Sometimes, such as simply spending on the pieces and parts for the bathroom, or spending time working in the kitchen, means I cannot focus.  The kid has to eat.

Not a problem, really.  I like trying to figure out a new, old, or confusing mess.  I like trying to optimize.  Due to certain factors, optimization is required.  I have all the time in the world, of which as much as 99% is not available.  At best I have 30% of that time available for work.  Being mostly dead means even when I have optimal time, I cannot work at an optimal rate.  Not a complaint, just a fact.  So, when hungry to do something, I honestly have no choice but to think it through and go for the sweetspot.  No time to dally, plans have to be fairly well laid, sometimes years in advance.  Not that the need to plan that far ahead is necessary, just that it might actually end up taking me that long to get to that part of the list.  Beyond my own difficulties, there are always other things requiring my attention, pulling me away, eating my time, energy, and money.  So, efficiency and planning are required.  In spite of the fact that organization is... well... what it is. 

Still, I am pleased with what I have done and learned, if not at how things are going right at this particular moment.  And, each month, I put a few dollars into tools, prep, and projects.  I really need to figure out how to get back on my feet and push ahead a bit.  I NEED to be working!  I just don't have it today.  They say it will be warming, well, in the next week.  Perhaps that will help.  I'm beginning to get just a touch grumpy about it all.  I don't think it is affecting here, and the girls aren't really impressed.  It's just an internal thing.  A dissatisfaction more than true grumpiness. 

Just blathering, trying to strike open a steam vent for the steam engines, casting about, and tasting... planning... making... the future.  No worries.  You don't even have to get off my porch today.  Later.

Interesting.

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A sight.  The vision of a humble huntsmen who has somehow ended up with too many hunting dogs.  He can't control them.  They seem to make the hunt miserable, at times, but he does love the creatures.  Perhaps.  Such can be false too.  Time tells all.

A story and great joys.

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The dogs of the plains lived, mostly, solitary lives.  Sometimes there would be involvements among them, such as a contest of strength or will, groups might chase some game animal, or they might have other dealings for their own or mutual purposes.  There is a pecking order.  Size played a part, as did wits, age, strength, and various other traits.  Contests were, mostly, limited to at most some nipping though usually just some pushing and barking.  Such is the way of dogs, or these dogs to be sure.  And so it was.

The one thing which might call more of the stronger and braver dogs together might be encroachment by another pack or a great hunt against a predator.  In the case of the latter, none could take the threat alone, and yet each wished to wet their muzzle in the blood, or be party to chasing off some big cat or lone wolf or such.  These events helped cement both a place in the loose pack and an ego boost for animals who live, often, boring, generally slow, unhappy often, little lives of dreaming and the want for more.  None had left the area, all that was needed was present.  Only a slow life leading to a slow death was even known.

As it turned, a bear rumbled through.  Not aware, or if aware uncaring, of the pack of dogs, it roamed through closely enough to become apparent to the pack.  The pack assembled, information was gathered and transmitted as dogs do, and bravery was bolstered so that the affair was seen as the greatest adventure ever!  Yet only the braver dogs would leave for the chase.  The sick, the weak unless trying to find better standing, and bitches with pups, stayed behind.  The rest howled, barked, and yipped their way to a form of madness only a mob may know.  On the trail, at last, they departed.

While the trail was easy enough to follow, the scent being big and bold, the exact whereabouts of such a creature is rarely as easy to know as it might seem.  Some creatures, even the biggest and wildest, have a feral nature which keeps them cautious.  While some things cannot be well hidden, other things are obscured.  Some of the dogs believed this is conscious, other may suggest that it is the nature of the creature and so just innate.  Dogs only having a distant kinship to the wild, as such bear few of these natures, and so cannot know.  So, as the trail grew warmer, the chase slowed.  Even for such a pack gathered, caution was afforded.  The hunt, and perhaps kill, would not be a fast thing, but a drawn out affair.  That is the way it goes.

Whether the hounds surprised the animal, the animal tracked around the pack and approached by surprise, or whether the antagonists met both with open eyes, matters little.  While many where the legion, great and terrible was the quarry.  Whatever the happenstances, the results would have been similar in any case.  A few of the less astute attacked quickly and thoughtlessly, and paid dearly.  The hoary beast also charged the ranks, with some give and take.  Short periods of time were spent, each trying to figure a less painful, more productive, approach.  The small ones circling, perhaps trying to encircle, the larger.  The larger trying to keep from being surrounded, perhaps scouting specific targets which seemed more aggressive.  Bouts of sporadic and chaotic fighting, well thought out or instinctive, wise and not so wise.  The battle continued.

Eventually the game lost it's flavor, the hunt proving less palatable at each loss, of fur or skin or blood or life, to the smaller creatures.  Never would they have this great beast for their blood toy.  They had done what they could.  They had proven their bravery.  They had stood their ground, reclaimed their territory, pushed the outsider.  The bear had enough as well, if he had not been interested.  Each side, however, knew that simply running would court disaster.  Backing away, the bear making faints, or even lunges strong and fast enough to batter one of the slower or less attentive little ones.  The hounds just previous to a surprise attack growling their victory, scattering like bowling pins and showing the whites of their eyes as the bigger beast struck.  Eventually the parties were far enough that only tatters of the war, through sharp barks or low growls or chirping noises dogs make when happy (in this case that it was over) could still be sensed.  And so it went.

The dogs, for their part, in their hearts, understood that they could not ever win.  The beast was free to roam, and might come back through at it's whim.  Or simply to play, or kill, or play by killing.  A humbling thing.  Some came because they saw the purpose.  Some lead the way, and instigated while taking care... their station demanded their survival.  Others came for the pack mentality, or to gain some glory, deserved or not.  To defend what they deserve and what they earned and made of this place, their home.  But they knew.  No matter their effort, they realized their places.  Some ignored it, shirking it off as fate.  Others accepted it, and just lived with it.  Others denied it.  The blood from gashes on their side, they insisted, was no more than other wounds from other things, not a surety or loss.  Few realized they deserved, built, and owned nothing.  Such would not filter past their "knowledge" of things.

The bear ambled off, after it was sure the pack had learned and left and no stragglers remained.  The dead weren't worth eating.  Scrawny, mostly.  Not tasty in any case.  He simply moved on, continuing his path exactly as he would have if not slowed by malcontent unthinking hounds.  He understood some things the dogs probably never would.  The rage at him was merely a rage at life that dogs must suffer.  None could survive on it's own, not well.  So they had gathered and relinquished their real claims to self.  They attacked because a leader urged them to do so, directly or otherwise.  Their alpha carelessly or not, though certainly careless as to their individual losses, instigated.  The subordinates to gain favor and for a dream of scratching the itch of servitude lent themselves to the hunt.  The lessors hunted in some hope of a better standing as servants to the many greater beasts who lorded over them.  But they would never, could never win.  For what they attacked was not him, but the chaffing of the collars.  But the chaffing of the various collars are no more than a hunger for something they had relinquished.  And, what they had relinquished, was their pride, their self-reliance, independence, and some other great gifts they had when born.  So, in the end, what they fought by fighting him was themselves.

The bear knew this, because he had once been like them.  Perhaps as a zoo exhibit or more a circus performer.  Never domesticated, but trained and kept, fed and tended, but owned.  And yet he knew better, for once he had been free, truly wild and free.  As the world of men ground to a halt and fell, he found freedom, and took it.  Each day a joy and a test, but his own in some small sense.  Unlike the dogs, he had come first from the darkness of the wild.  It was only later that he came to some small knowledge of men and domestication, training and learning, and even loving these strange creatures and ways, at least for their better parts.  Still, the wilds, and freedom, were better, preferred, and taken without question when the chance was seen.  A risk, but without risk there is no freedom or self.

But there was more.  There was some hope that these things could be passed to his purely wild brothers.  Domestic things neither know nor care about that which is not their own.  Some would suggest, and to a degree rightly, they don't care about each other all that much.  Though the low and mean that is in them is also in the things of wild natures, it is in a different way... I think a better, more understandable, way.  But he had not come to bring some wild to the domesticated... if that did happen now and again by chance... but to bring some civility to the wild things.  And, so, on he went, tracking his way to his native lands, not giving the now rare and very distant chirps of sad hounds another thought.  So it was and so it is today, should the bear still haunt the wilds.
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Couldn't sleep.  Some of the psychic and blog wars, and perceived or real taunts and barbs from various blog posts turned into a laugh and story, all in one, all at once in time.  Like a laugh and a cough splitting the body together, it just... happened.  Tickled, I decided not to let it pass, as I do with so much else of what I "see".  Not that it will mean much to the pack, alpha, bitches, or even my own kin...  Misunderestimated is a thing such a beast will have to come to be comfortable with.
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Oh, a bit more even so. - While the bear knew of the inner fight, and who the true contest was with, he had not won that fight.  He had lost, and more.  He had surrendered even his will to live.  He simply would not, or could not, or was not allowed, to die.  And so he had been forced, through time, to eventually surrender.  In the end, he had not surrendered to himself.  That is impossible, by the way.  If you think you have done that, then you have failed to see clearly.  You cannot surrender to yourself.  He had two choices about with whom to surrender.  While at the time it seemed, in is stricken eyes, as if the two where aspects of himself (and though they are, their origins are not), the truth was he had the choice of becoming blindly feral or to surrender to reason, wisdom, and things of that nature.  In this case, it just so happens, that the bear surrendered to the better natures.

He may be going off in a, perhaps impossible, mission to bring this to his own.  He does not, as it turns out, do this for his own self.  He has surrendered self, I might remind.  Another has granted the wisdom, or folly, of the mission.  He is under the say of Another.  Something, I am beginning to wonder, if can be understood by pack or domesticated natures.  But that is not my problem.  Let the true Alpha, or as I am beginning to believe Sigma, lead His own.  I will not lead my own, for I am not capable.  I can only... perhaps.... show by example.  Brutality may be employed, but that is quite natural to my kind.  It's just that brutality will not be the means, merely a simple tool in survival of the mission, and perhaps through another, the final stroke that fulfills the impossible to truth.

The silly dogs can never hurt me.  They cannot even threaten to take what I had so sorely tossed away.  Their barbs and bites are nothing compared to the whip and chains that bit and marked my flesh, with no cessations, until freedom found me.  Sad little creatures, but, he supposed, it was all most of them would ever know.  Part of the reason he went to the wilds was so that, perhaps, some of the wild ones might know more than these.  A great sadness to... know even those who had been made conformed to that which he finally surrendered yet strove for the very chains he had left as quickly and easily as he had.  Though he knew he did not know the fullness of their shoes.  Still, most seemed sad in any case, to him.

Going back to bed?

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Yeah, maybe.  I hate to do it, on the one hand.  I hate sleeping, in a way.  Like eating or voiding, it seems like a waste.  I have acquiesced to the need.  And more, my body's greater need of it.  I finally surrendered to having to not control when, or how long.  I have never given in to it completely, and see it with some mild contempt even now.  More so with control having been almost completely lost.  But needing to go right back to bed after a long, if not good, sleep is extra frustrating.  I simply may have no choice.  It isn't just the mind, or the body.  Both are begging for more sleep.  On the good side, it might help in my attempts to change my schedule around.  Capitalists capitalize, or make the effort.  Not everything pans out.

From what I cooked last night, I had a small portion left this morning.  I ate it easily.  Pork shoulder chops.  This one couldn't have had more than four ounces of meat.  But that was enough to fill me.  Gosh I really am starting to love fresh pork.  I've always liked pork, but nothing beats having it butchered fresh off the bone, or hooves anyway.  Rich fresh goodness.  I have standard chops thawed if I am hungry later, and ham, eggs, and some other such.  I really ought to boil eggs.  I've got plenty.  And, if I have the ingredients, I would like to pickle some eggs.  A good way to have something easy on hand at all times.  The vinegar of pickled items cuts the grail in the throat that happens from time to time.  The eggs become a strange sort of 'hard' when preserved that way, so it's not simple to feast on them.  But a couple, on certain days, does quite well.

Yeah.  But for now, more sleep.  Perhaps reading as well, as I fall into sleep.  The writing is generally good.  The stories are so-so, if better than just average too.  I can be picky.  If I outright didn't like it, though, I wouldn't be reading.  I did like Vox's Roman era type fantasy.  I'd like to eventually see where those came from, or went.  I like the mechanics and meter of his writing.  Similar interests, or tastes, or something... with the writer, at least on a topic, does help.  Whether ending up a sparring partner for some time, or enemy, doesn't matter a great deal.  Actually, if you enjoy reading an enemy's books, there is a cleverness to it that is quite pleasant... if you know how to harvest it.  Nope, I trust no one.  I'll give any enough rope to hang themselves.  I have such a rope, and more is given daily.  It's the way it works.

Good night, or later if this turns into a nap, or long nap.  Or in any case, probably.  I'm just not that lucky.  And, by proxy, neither are you.  Scoot.  I've got reading and sleeping to tend.  Scoot!

Stirred up the nest.

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Didn't know what that was like.  Allies to the end, for some.  When you stomp, or seem to stomp, the king bee, the nest swirls.  No problems.  My allergies have been overcome, I have a flyswatter, and I still don't give a shit.  If it was him, so be it.  I have been doing this since I was a child and I am quite happily still here.  The little barbs they try to use to poke me into rage merely tickle.  I have noticed that the weapons of choice, from child to man, are the ones they fear... the ones that can hurt them.  I learned long ago how to take those from these weak-willed creatures, and turn them on them.  Let's see if their convictions are supported by their willing to 'go there'.  Beta's, can smell it on them.  Weak.  Now I understand what others have gone through when stomping, wrongly or rightly, on that ant pile.  Though, from the smell of it, I am thinking purely alpha.  No sigma to the man.  Just as collective as what he suggests he is against.  *grins*  Don't play with ogres, children.  You'll only get hurt.

Oh, no worries.  Just noted a bunch of carp lying on the beaches, rotting in the sun.  Makes no difference to me.  Free bait, I can save my worms for another time.  I'm used to stink, it's the greater of men's production.  From babe to man, it is his greatest accomplishment, odious as that may be.  If you want to attack, try so directly.  Or... was that as direct as it gets?  Sissies. 

This is fun!  It's been a while.  The first time was in third grade.  While my classmates couldn't, even all combined or in small groups, get what they believed were their dues, they sent sixth graders to extract their dues and ended up with even less.  Still, now, they don't have elders to send.  No bigger boys.  I will not relent.  Not an ounce.  If your effort is to be acceptable to those you say are wrong, just to get a little edge in the pack of dogs, then don't go out in my country.  Wolves have ever been more potent than mere dogs, alone or together.  And, in some ways, we are never alone.  True, your worldly ways will win... in the short run.  But I have gone beyond myself, and this world.  Stick with this world and you will be... stuck with this world.  Choices.

Sleep has been odd.

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I wonder if it is beginning to warm.  I am sort of going back and forth on sleep.  I attempted to merely nap, but went in harder, for sleep this morning, than what I had anticipated.  While it was almost too cold initially, I think it warmed well.  But that difference caused me to sleep... sideways.  A sideways sleep is when I sleep extra long because it is too warm so that I wake up physically grumpy.  Sleeping in heat is not fun, but sometimes it's all I can do.  So my body sleeps too long for my sleeping needs, trying to get rest out of an ugly sleep.  Something in there.  Well, that is how it feels.  Technically, this isn't a hot, or even warm, day.  It is only so if compared to recent weather.  There isn't such a thing, in one sense, as relative.  And yet, in confined parameters, there very much is.  Such as today.

I can't believe I am still messing with some notions.  If that so-and-whositz is so-and-so, then he is choosing to take the hit.  I am starting to suspect that he does take things personally.  And, since I don't know him all that well, perhaps he should?  Either way, it's not my problem.  If he thinks he is an elite, and whines when he is placed in with the rest, it's a personal problem.  I don't bow to nobility, self-appointed or not.  If he acts alpha, but claims sigma, that is his problem.  I don't bend a knee, not even when conquered of flesh necessarily.  He hasn't done that, nor has he done so of mind or spirit.  Did I wound him?  Was he standing in front of the target, accidentally or on purpose.  Was he the target and I just didn't realize it?  Don't know.  If so, too f'ing bad.  Toughen up, lad.  Or I'll bow you.  If you can't handle a blind old man, or take the jabs back you give, get out of the game.  I don't, however, have any use for a lieutenant.  I really am singular.  I'll let others lead, until they fail or until I have other directions to go.  Then it's best to just let me go that way.  I keep bumping into things about this in my sleep.  Not giving me heartburn, on my side of things.  But it is causing several some burn.  All good.  If you really think you are an elite, you got another thing coming.  Stay in Europe, where that belongs.  Though, I can see, you might have done this or that, you really haven't had to stand, or survive, on your own two feet.  All you have had to do was extend the silver-spooned umbrella your parents gave you.  You have done so, but you haven't had to survive, only figure out how to thrive.  So, no... you don't know some things.  There is a difference.

Oh, and something else.  About that musical story I told the other day?  Yeah... I did try to demand that my quality be known, that I not leave without a trace, and some other things.  When that seemed obvious to fail, I decided to take my marbles and quit the damn game.  Couldn't even do that, it seems.  I have learned that my ego, my own, my very precious worldly thing, doesn't matter.  The first, and to a degree second, poem, express this well... poems and pictures.  I am, and will remain, a nobody, a nothing.  Even if, as my story suggests, that I have things yet to do?  It isn't about me.  Not only not important, just another.  I was forced to surrender my want of... some grace of the highborn.  Everybody, really, is nobody.  Hold on to such at your own peril.  Being around me will wound you.  Nothing I can do about that.  You will either grow up or go away, and neither concerns me in the least.  I still go through rages about my own death of ego, from time to time.  But... I believe it, finally. Oh, but as with the death of flesh, it is better on the other side... mostly.  Your choice, always your choice.  Come to an understanding with this, say friend, and approach.  Or go away and forget you ever stumbled on this old artifact you call me.

Today?  I don't know.  Like I said, I slept sideways, from the relative heat.  One cup of coffee down, another couple to go.  Medicine has been regular.  Sleep has been up in the air beside being off.  I just don't know today.  I'll grouse and grump and limp around until I can yank my foot from the nail sticking it to the reality floor.  Oh, no worries, I enjoy the challenge some days.  Usually, actually.  Hell, the worst it could do is kill me.  The best is give me an ego boost when I figure it out.  None of that is horrible, so long as next time I get to stay dead.  Hurts to die, hurts to come back.  My distrust, if nothing else, and the known pains involved, keep me trying to stay on this side of the veil.  If too, I have, as suggested, learned to enjoy life, little as it is, on this side.  All good, whatever.  Not much choice in either case.  Lump it, love it, work it.  Every day, the bad days more than others.

Later.

Not you.

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Yes, you have an ego, and are as paranoid as I.  I am surprised you noticed though, didn't know you read here, mostly.  While I have no problem giving you a jab from time to time, I don't think of you as... confused.  Or as one of those types.  And I can handle your jabs.  Even if you think I am... questionable.  What you think, on some matters, doesn't concern me.  Intent, purposeful, intelligent, some questions of ego size, but not what you seem to think I might be implying.  Twas truly just a dream, though there was someone attached to it.  Still, it's sort of fun, when I pull out my hammer and went for toes, to see just who pulled their feet in.  Yeah, you know who.  Glad to see the first day back on the field didn't take you down.  And thanks for the chuckles.  But, no, not you.  I don't think so anyway.  If I go that way, you won't be trying to figure it out.  I'll just say it.  I don't know who it was. Though, if it was you, I don't mind... challenging and dismissing myself.  I can do that well enough.

Nearing some nexus.

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While I have been down, it has been more a suspended fall.  I didn't hit bottom.  Like I suggested, it's as if falling off a bridge, then getting caught in a net.  Now, until the bouncing stops, there really isn't a way to figure things out.  I suspect the bouncing is about to stop.  Could be that the net gave way, though.  Nets are for butterflies, not ogres.  :p  Still, my accelerometer on that function suggests good things.  The cold has returned, and is rather tight.  So, just because I seem to be coming to a stop doesn't mean I'll just be able to get to my feet.  When I fall, I fall for a reason.  Just because I hit bottom, or even if caught in a net, just because my fall has ended doesn't mean I can just get up.  However, it is much easier to get back up once that has happened.  Actually, that is simply required.  Oh, I have landed on my feet, and taken steps, through a fall.  But that just suspends the inevitable in another way.  Eventually I have to go down.  Yeah.  Gibberish to you, probably.  Just trust me.

But things are looking just a bit better.  I'll sleep as I need and can, pushing the clock around as I may.  I hope to do just a bit more than I have been doing, perhaps a lot more.  Maybe I can get back to where I just was.  I was doing really well for quite some time, with a few minor hiccups here and there.  Back to finishing the kitchen, then the living room.  It's where I am at and... sort of... holding the line.  Sort of. 

With the auto out of the way, if I still have to use some caution with upcoming trips and things, I am planning to begin purchasing items for my bathroom.  A sink, new faucet, showerhead, piping, and some other things.  I'll need to rip out the old and put in the new.  The first part is certainly easier than the last part, none of it, from what I can tell, will be simple.  Oh, right... some kind of mirrored medicine chest and lights.  I will have to fuss with the flooring first, but... yeah.  My guess is that will be a pretty easy task, compared to the rest.  And fast.  Comparatively.

Just trying to think some things through, make some short and midterm plans.  Plans might not work out, but they often get the ball rolling.  Once rolling, it sort of takes care of itself.  The trick then becomes to keep it rolling.  Later.  Or... maybe nap time again.  After some more reading.  A couple more short stories should see me to sleep.  So, good... night... day... morning... or maybe, as I said, later?  Dunno.

Yes, admitted.

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I was discussing a post, recently, of another blogger.  I suggested some things.  Among them, that the music, sometimes, often, that I play here, is not what it seems.  I suggested I used to music to tell a story, or part of it.  Or to describe specific sensations at various time, though mostly used music as a replacement for words.  While I do not claim that my stories are true, I do suggest they are true enough, and to my understanding... if I sometimes... don't tell it all.

I get the sense that some reading, musical reading, has been happening.  But digging through things haphazardly will not produce a story, only thoughts or moments, in this or that time.  So I set out to make the story.  Mostly using old tunes, ones I have used here before.  Though one new one crept in.  Ah, no.  Not for him.  Just a recap, for myself.  I don't think most of your listen to the music.  As to why music?  That is something I won't share.  And would rather those who know, or know what I said, not to say.

Nap!

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No, already took it.  No choice.  I deserved it.  I just lifted half the tonnage that was on my back, off, then set up to get the last half of it tended.  I read, as I was falling.  A big book of monsters, perhaps paraphrasing, perhaps the actual name, of the book.  A bunch of little stories, like what might be told around a campfire.  Short.  Some, so far already, new... some stories I remember from various stages in life if more from the earlier part of life.  I was a sci-fi and monster buff from my most tender of years... as tender goes for such a creature as myself.  I suppose if wolf pups... no... they were not born in darkness.  Anyway, good writing.  I am, mostly, ignoring the... author's... or... master of prose ceremony's... babblings about the stories.  Nothing personal, but I... just want the stories.  As with movie stars, the less I know about some things, the better.  And I don't like it when the backdrop gives away the plot of the upcoming story, or the monster, or...  And I don't care when it was written, or necessarily who wrote it.  It's part of the less-I-know category.  Writers seem to be a, generally, corrupted lot.  And a cowardly one.  When I said there was no God (at least that He wasn't my concern), I didn't just bad mouth and collect a few bad habits.  I hit the gas on the highway to hell and rode it for broke.  Bland middlings piss the denizens of both heaven and hell right off.

Oh, right.  Sorry.

As it went, I had just stopped reading, rolled over, and just about to start sleeping when I received a call from the V.A., and was able to set up an appointment yet this month with my cardiologist.  So... yes... mostly solved.  All I have to do it make it, on time.  At least with that clinic, they know their clientele well.  They know making an exact hour and date is... difficult.  So, it's a sign up thing.  Just taking that pressure off makes it so much easier.  Yeah, there is psychological stress for making appointments.  What might be said, what could be done (they might hospitalize or send to emergency room), they will not like my efforts, etc.  Not fun.  But more, really, simply making an exact time is excruciatingly... difficult.  It just is.  So, I will know if I get to keep my license before the month is out... if I make it.

Checking my schedule, I have four or five things, just thing month.  Most of them clustered in the middle, one near the end, and another right near the beginning of next month.  And, then, a major outing at the end of that next month!  That's, actually, quite a lot, for me.  I can, have, and usually do actually, go six months with fewer appointments.  No, all good.  It'll push me to tear back into life.  All good.  I like me some challenge.  And I have sort of fallen down.  I best get my running boots on and start aiming.  Yeah, I think I have all the events logged onto my calendar.  Yeah, I think I'll make it.  Or... some of them.  Now, to get my schedule turned around.  The stress of worry might have been part of the problem, if I think the cold and hit and miss on medicine, the former consternation leading to the latter, mostly.  Hard to tell, exactly, with down cycles.  Funny thing is?  Even those close to me can't tell the difference.  Did the snail move 1/32nds of an inch, or 3/64ths?

Bleh.  Hush!

Well, I do have some meats thawed.  Chops or shoulder chops, ham, bacon, eggs... Don't know, but I have been getting hungry enough to think to cook lately.  So I will probably, before long, have a nice tidy meal.  Later.