I am thinking.

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Which means I have been quiet.  It is why I have been quiet.  As I tabulate possibility, probability, reality, so as to chart a set of contrary courses, figuring out what can be done to clear the way for both without impeding either, at this point, I have been away from blogging, and life to some degree.  I stepped out for a bit.  Reality, of course, isn't what you make it.  It is, however, exactly what you make of it.  Where that line that divides truly exists, however, is... a fluid thing.  For some it is more of a semi-solid.  For others it is as a river.  The only thing that, for those who know the water, is needed to be understood, is that a foot can never be placed in the same river.  What is will be gone, so timing, as with jokes, is everything.  Though, for those of severe fluidity, even that often means very little.  Usually.

Yes, plans are being drawn.  Notions fleshed out, recovered, integrated, and derived.  The paths are being scouted, methods are being devised, sight is being freed to see, without blinders or obstructions, including those of self.  This... takes a bit out of a being, any being, so other things must suffer.  Have you ever watched an Olympic pole vaulter?  Look, if you haven't.  The concentration isn't just on the face, you will see it in their movements, running, a bit on the face, and in their... ways.  Now, make it a bit more interesting.  Make it as if there is a jump to the right and to the left, but they won't know which way they will have to go until they are into their sprint.  That is what I am seeing before me.  Fail?  Not an option?  Oh, it's an option, and more.  It isn't even a possibility, so much as a requirement.  Whether I clear either bar, or the correct one, in a long enough time line, which for those drawing breath is quite short, failure is guaranteed.  Zero-point on a bias is the only way to claim some small victories.  No, I am not perfectly satisfied with the idea, but it is what it is.  Still, that is the way.  How successfully I can navigate the choices will decide how much success at the future I will see.

So, as I figure things out, and begin laying the foundations for whichever future it is to be, I am otherwise indisposed.  The thinking is heavy, the doing... the crafting of reality, will be a bit more... tedious.  As I have suggested, all the planning, preparation, practice, and thought that goes into life often comes down to a few critical moments.  How, in other words, do you catch a bullet?  Most can't.  Those who can do it very slowly, painstakingly, and through time, and then very very quickly.  Which... sort of... is what I am doing, or preparing to do.

On the good side, just this morning... I think... or yesterday morning(?)...  I beat my new old and older sudoku record.  I have completed a puzzle in 9 seconds.  My old best was 12 seconds, the one before it was 13 seconds (from the day before).  The one before that was 15 seconds, set quite some time ago.  Oh, nothing fancy.  I am sure there are those, with quicker, smaller, fingers... and younger or better minds... or both... who can do them much faster.  And it isn't every puzzle or all the time.  Some days my body isn't right, sometimes my mind isn't right, and there are times when neither is right.  My usual, for that level, is around 25-32 seconds.  That is still, usually, at the 100% mark, compared to thousands of other players.  Though whether usual players, or just stoned hipsters with no real clue or interest, are fair or true tests of my ability, is another thing.  I just don't know the quality of the competition. 

Just letting you know that I haven't died, or gone missing, yet, or such.  I'm... thinking... as I wrote.  Today?  I am going to try to take my mind off the process and do some work.  Or, at least, split that up a bit.  I should be able to kick out the dishes, I have taken a shower, maybe I'll do another load of laundry, and manage the cat litter.  Time only tells what will be, regardless of plans.  Later.

Dreams and thoughts.

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A few things to try.  A few things to check.  No ties, and if none are made, I must do what my nature requires.  I wasn't made to remain, but to roam.  Always looking for home.  It may not exist.  Not anymore or again.

A bit going on, anyway.

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I reset medicines, finally, to include vitamins and minerals, plus a start on the new stuff.  As well, I have been adding a fiber mix to it all as well.  I then called a utility about an overpayment, and sorted that out.  Before those things, I started work on the kitchen, put a load of laundry in... which needs to be put in the dryer.  I may try to push another load of laundry through.  And I have cycled the dishes, washing and resetting to soak.  When I finish those, the next time I am awake, I will wash the stovetop and counters, perhaps decluttering a bit.  Oh, right, and I got the trash out.  Hmm, didn't change the cat litter, as I had intended.  When decluttering, I will do that as well.  I want that trash to go out right away.

Not a bad start.  I have a few things coming up this week.  Three things, actually.  Two longer, one shorter, trip.  It's going to be a bit rough, my sleep cycle is a bit off.  And, yet, I'll push through, I do believe, at this point.  While finishing laundry I will watch a few more episodes before going back to bed.  Odd, but for all my sitting, my arms haven't gone soft.  Sometimes they do.  Strange, really.  Most of my days, for weeks, have seen me firmly planted on my bottom or back, with very little standing or walking.  Sometimes it just doesn't make sense.  Then again, I have been aware.  Awake of mind.  That might be the very simple explanation.  When aware, I am constantly... wary.  It's a dangerous place we live, more so every day.  Whirlpools of danger opening, closing, moving... some right... many wrong.

Ah, I best get to things.  Be ready, be well.  Good day.

Dream storm.

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I can't even tell you how many dreams.  Dozens that were unique.  Just bits remain.  Imagine watching three movies at a time throughout your day.  Come on, movies are so... dull... that it isn't that difficult to follow three at a time.  Anyway, lets say you did that for two or three days in a row.  That was last night.  Even as I was trying to wake, even sometimes between alarm resets or snooze bars.  Wonderful!  I just wish, for a couple of them, I could have held on.  I know I "figured" some things out in two of them.  I dearly wanted to hold on to those, to see if they work in the light of day (some do, some don't).  One was a mathematical thing, one was... existential or theological... though the difference between those narrows for those who can see.  Actually, it disappears... in what one might, often, call time.  I just could not wake to write, or I would have.  Oh well.  Sometimes these things come to me in... time.

A shower, pretty much first thing.  I have been working on my braiding, each day.  I have improved.  I can't tell how well I am doing.  How precise the splits are, how accurate the braid set, or whether the thing looks good or more like a rat-tail.  Not terribly important, in the theme of things, it is more of a means to an end.  Still, I prefer to master precision, accuracy, and form, after function is mastered.  French braiding, next.  Not sure how well that will work with a tire-thick mohawk, but it might be interesting.  In time, perhaps other forms of braiding might be tried.  But there are limits.  Some braiding takes hours.  I don't do hours, not personally, and can't afford to have such done... either of coin or interest.  I probably don't have adhd, but I do have something.  Sure, I fall, but then I prefer to be free when I can sit that long, somehow.

I've got to figure out how to get back on my feet.  I really don't know what is wrong.  I have a suspicion, but it would surprise me.  I must find a way to push through what has been limiting me from plugging that leak, to see if that is the problem.  Wish me luck.  Or not.  I know some sharks swim in these waters, hoping for the big one to pop.  I hate to tell you, I will outlive you.  Probably by a decade or two, more even. :)  Hey, I don't always like the notion any more than you do.  Uhrm, not always.  For this situation, yeah, okay.  And a few other reasons.  A few more things to see and do.  And some simple pleasures.  And for faith, or in it.  Making up for lost time with the latter.

Oh, well... shower taken, now I have to begin figuring.  Trash needs to get set, and then taken out.  Laundry needs to be placed, and started.  And then the kitchen.  If I'm a good boy, a shower, and trip to a burger joint, sometime after some things have been done, if I have the juice.  Later.

Odd how alone we can think we are.

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Oh, to some degree, I don't mind.  Most people aren't used to it.  Most people can't handle it.  For the most part, I am good with our without people.  I have seen some try to use loneliness as a tool.  I do talk a good deal, with visitors.  So it must seem as if I am lonely.  Really, I just need to process what I can through real feedback when I get the chance.  It's not quite like going to the grocery store.  Perhaps more like a casual visit to a hardware store, when I need nothing in particular?  Yeah.  There is always a gadget or tool or material I could buy, or at least review.  With people, it is an idea I could offer for review, preview, response, etc.

I write here, often enough.  And, really, I thought I was quite alone.  A journal blog, of sorts.  Along with... a few other uses.  Google says only a few stop by, perhaps 1.2k per month.  And, for a very long time, I thought that was true.  Now I know it not to be.  There are several ways to get around google's counter.  How accurate that is even without that is difficult to know.  We are not, exactly, ideological friends.  The only reason I still write is because they found that if they censor my kind, they end up with their kind, which ends up being reductive to a point of uselessness.  They have no choice.  They could dump me, or another, or another, or many, but in the end they would end up with a non-functioning model.  It's a factitious model as is.  But in the world of funny money it seems to work.

Truth came out some time ago.  I am much more widely read than I thought.  Locally, but even not so much.  Strange to be recognized though.  Not sure how people know, but I have been recognized in places which don't seem possible.  The further I go, the less often.  But even on my trip south, then around, there was a time or dozen where I was pretty sure I was... not known, recognized.  Then again, even back in the day, I have a familiar sort of face.  The difference, though, between looking like someone and being recognized is if I am recognized, I am not approached.  Just... watched.  If someone thinks they know me, usually they come up and ask.

It does give me the shivers.  I'm sure few have read all.  And there is much.  So... what, exactly, did they read.  Strangely, I can remember much of what is written here.  No, I don't read my old stuff, unless called to it.  And yet, once down, I can usually get my meaning later on.  Not that I always agree, minds can change, or variance in mood, or even what I just ate (or ate then) might affect things.  No accounting for emotional responses, either.  Terrified, in a way, when recognized.  I've seen bit tongues to simple curiosity on to an appreciative serious nod... seemingly approving.  Not that it matters, just, as I wrote, there is a lot here.  Along with the weird factor of being recognized but not being sure what for, there is some pride to be known.  Not a great pride, just a little pleasure that people bother to read.  Still...

Oh, but you are!

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I stand accused, it seems.  But Doom, you do crawl into the mind!

Uhrm, no, I do not.  I write, I add music and videos.  This is my mind you have crawled into.  If it... leaves a mark, that was decidedly not my doing.  That I make my thoughts public is no more, to me, than thinking out loud.  No one could hear unless they approached, then listened.  Which... they do.  The cutest of the bunch are those who draw close to disavow, yet fail to even make the effort.  No, I have not crawled into your mind, you have crawled into mine.

I've been having that nagging notion for a while now.  I just thought to... clarify.  Or, more, finally got around to it.  I have a lot of nothing on my mind of late, so finding time for something is cramping my Zen.  Still, when there is time out of my no-time, I do fit in what is due, in it's order.  So it is.  Even in real life, I take great pains to avoid any unwanted psychic contact.  An attack, or an invitation to see, however, is another matter.  Even so, I make all effort to see no more than what is shown.  Only a wife, should I find one, will I expect full openness of mind, and offer it.  Even there I will have to be cautious.  Though I wish to hide nothing, there are some things... that are simply too dark.  Not a priest, not a well trained, very experienced, ptsd counselor can have all access.  People break.  And stain.  Some things are not to be shared, save what can be, and have been, for very specific purposes.

I might suggest you not stand on the tracks and dare.  The breaks are not that good, and just of mind I am more than enough.  Too much.  Imagine lusting for chocolate, then getting a manufacturer to customize a dispenser into your stomach.  Just how much can you take?  I doubt if you could handle a few moments.  What I can deliver, in moments, of mind, is little different.  Don't start it, I won't finish it.  I do grin at a few who thought to do so, then realized... dissonance... and backed off just in time.  Do not stand on those tracks.

Where did that all come from?  Dunno.  The first part came almost immediately after that... that one post.  Recent music post.  The rest?  Yeah, okay... that's been around for a while.  Bugging me.  Some have sort of been testing.  Oh, and you can't break me.  Not with insinuation, or rejection, or such.  I can break myself, and sometimes do.  Just for a bit, sometimes quite by accident.  Don't think you can.  I've had the best work that up, then learned to do it myself.  Consciously and not.  A way to... stay sharp.  Your best efforts are those of a child.  A child without a psychic scalpel.  Impotent rage just draws my curiosity, sympathy, empathy, or derision... depending on it's roots.  Take a shot, but it's mostly likely to hurt you far more than it hurts me.  If you should happen to hit the target, understand, I dig into pain, I don't run from it.  If you meant to shut me down, you will only open me up.  Hmm... but then, if you read here, you know that.  Psychic seppuku, for an immortal mind?  Yeah.  Join me, tea on the patio after, byob.  *smile*  Love me some intimate death of ego!

A bit of thinking from the show.

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The ol' multiple universe... or dimension really, theory, has finally come out.  So old school.  And, in a secular universe, that would be the truth of it.  It was something I understood, long ago.  I bought into it until I realized the major flaws.  For one, for it to be a secular truth, was a backdoor way to God.  Simply, an infinite number of dimensions, which can't be located, where transportation isn't possible, and all the other things, was merely a mechanical version of God.  For one thing, if you want to declare that there is no God, then do not construct one to deny one.  But there was more.  What I, myself, finally came to as a conclusion, is two fold.  The first is that there aren't infinite dimensions.  There are infinite possibilities.  They are sisters of sort.  One can, perhaps, bump into these others, perhaps travel in them for a while.  Anything pulled back from those become the new real dimension.  Yes, men can, in small ways, make reality.  Some men, some ways, but... not without costs. 

Often, what we try, or even do,  is temporary.  Call it the Hitler, or Stalin, effect.  Actually, I have some wonder if those dictators weren't supported, mindless of the genocide involved, to see if they could... reform reality, on one scale or another.  They failed, awfully, terribly, murderously.  Some of the wealthy are merely bored, scientists often have no conscience, and politicians don't care if those being slaughtered aren't voting for them, less so if there would be some suspicion that such people are actively voting against them.  Trials, curiosity, atheistic agnosticism, greed, various lusts, all lead men to... experiment.  The attempt to force people to not only say that 2 + 2 = 5, or 7, or 1, and more... say whatever it is that they are told it means, but then to actually believe it.  They succeeded, but only in a way that is terribly useless.  Much as you can make a man short by cutting off his legs.  They are using other methods, here, now.  They have, pretty much, destroyed most other nationalities.  They need a virgin population, or are targeting it.  One that hasn't been rendered average through attrition too recently.  America.

I have, from my interest in the topics, been able to set some things aside, for the moment, I will not forget that what is wrapped up into the show is the very tools with which they are using to make Americans anti-American.  I also realized some other things.  From those techniques in the show, and while thinking about commercials and laugh-tracks.  Why do those things terribly annoy?  Ah, because they are crafted for the average Joe and Jane.  They will respond.  With the laugh tracks, for example, they were calibrated to occur right as soon as the average person who heard it was expected to have caught it, but before they had processed it.  Why?  To teach people to laugh at very specific things, unconsciously.  To tell them what is funny, and presumably what is not.  The problem is, for me, half way through some set-up, or joke, I already have reasoned through it, and accepted it as funny or not.  So, a laugh-track, for me, is insulting.  Even as a child, I just didn't understand why.  Now I do.

Oh, well, just some thoughts.  I think I am in the third season.  I am hungry, but a bit down.  I don't want to cook, not sure if I wish to make a run to town.  Bleh.  I'll see, after a shower.  I only have a few hours to decide.  I don't care for fast-food breakfasts, which start at 4:00.  Almost weak from hunger for... something...  I know a burger and fries would do the trick, as would some things here if all of that is frozen.  Meat, boys and girls.  Protein.  Well, and fats.  I'll... think on it.  Later.

Yes, yes.

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I still live.  No problems, just the regular slow-down of late.  I felt a thump that says maybe, just maybe, I'm beginning to stir.  A cold spell... cool anyway... passed through.  Temps dropped, the sun went dark, and I slipped a little further down, in the net.  Still suspended above a major fall.  There is a difference.  My mind is still here, even if my body is down for some count or other.  Oh, well, I have been occupying it with the television series, Fringe, as well.

Fringe, so far, is a rather typically constructed modernist show.  I despise much of the attempts at mechanical false belief system.  The lead is a female (though the strings are obvious, and her pseudo trophy status), the lead (younger) male is a white-knighting putz of highly questionable intelligence, looking more like... a gamma?  With a trapped women (boss) who will sell enough to maintain lead and control?  Something.  I don't know the Game elements well enough, nor quite believe in them enough, to be sure.  But it's something ugly like that.  The lead scientist, however, and the general stories, along with the 'trust nothing and no one completely' attitude?  Yeah, that is why I am there.  The lead, the real one, might be more along my lines, he would just need a combat backing.  I do understand his... lack of empathy, or at least at one time.  And what he must go through to get past it.  Unfortunately, I believe, in the show, he is... trying to escape what he, at this time, clearly seems to know... on his more human side.  His other side?  It, as with me, will always be what it is.  I know these things, only went through the great pains and efforts to recollect my soul, or if I don't have one my rightness with...  What Is... to the point I am able.

I am hoping, through the seasons, it will improve.  Hard to tell, from my vantage, if it will or not.  Most likely not, with only five seasons.  It seems viewers will, or used to, put up with Hollywood leftism for a season or two.  If the shows smarten up and dump that stupidism, the series lasts longer.  If not, they go away.  Though, again, if they become a bit too honest, they go away as well.  Most people don't want to know what is difficult to reconcile with weak morality.  Most people want to be tweeners.  Many of those will go south quickly, so as not to have to change.  Most have the ears to hear, few wish to listen.  Time will tell where the show goes.

Today?  Not sure.  A neighbor stopped by to let me know that my fence-line is being moved.  I had allowed for those using my property to move it, on my authority, if that was right.  They want more ground for planting, and the thing is a bit off.  This neighbor informed me, since it involves his property, that he will be putting up a fence along his side, to keep his dog in.  While I am happy to be informed, this is no problem, or issue, for my part.  Good to see the neighbor, however.  Always good to see people are continuing to do well.  That is more of a concern to me than some line in the ground, one way or the other.  Oh, I am not completely aloof of mechanical, legal, and property concerns, they just aren't part of my personal life.  Just curiosities, for an monastic ogre.  :p

Hmm... some coffee... another episode or two, a shower and bath...  I finally took a shower/bath combo yesterday, but after a minor *cough* interruption of those.  Boy did I need it.  The fall became a bit more intense due to weather, is all.  I don't adjust well.  But, that just makes me want to shower again, again.  So I might.  Oh, music with coffee, then some shows, then reading.  If I can begin a teardown of the bathroom and kitchen, and get a load or two of laundry going, that would be all the better.  We'll (me and the bugs that help make me (us all) tick) see.  Yes, you ARE buggy.  And you should be glad for it.  They, unlike some, really do the work you wouldn't want to, and are wholly unable to, do.  Think about that the next time you... strike the thinker pose.  *grin*

A new set of shows.

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I have enjoyed a couple of shows.  No commercials, able to watch them at my leisure, choosing particular topics to consider.  There are few shows I have seen for which I have been tempted to spill coin.  The only failure, so far, has been Hannibal.  And I wouldn't really call it a failure.  It simply what I had hoped, or wanted, or thought.  It is a detailed show, without too much drama, based on ideas and ideals I contemplate.  Not offensive, I know there are real monsters out there, and some of what they really do.  I know the line between good and evil, and how tight it can be drawn.  I had just hoped the lead character would have been more on the one side of the line, rather than a drifter.

The new series is Fringe.  I haven't seen enough to know if this will turn out to my tastes.  I have seen enough specific but random shows to have had my interest piqued.  Five seasons.  I would not have purchased it, but it was on sale for one third the usual price.  Yes, that will get my attention on something of interest.  While I was at it, I purchased a couple of knot-tying slide-cards.  Plastic cards, solidly waterproof, on a brass rivet.  One for general knots, one aimed at fishing.  Yes, I continue to attempt to learn, and I do need distractions.  Time, often, is all I have.  That time is not always useful, due to health.  As today.

Oh, and I am considering gearing up for fly fishing.  A bit at a time.  Something that has been on my mind for some long time.  I researched rods, and found a reasonably priced, to me, kit.  I am considering fly tying kits, though... some seem enormously, errantly, expensive.  Other seem quite incomplete or of questionable quality.  I don't know where to start there.  I have reviewed youtube vids.  My father was a fantastic fisherman, fly fisherman exclusively.  I don't think he tied his own, due to a number of factors, though he may have.  The problem is that we didn't live close enough to the rivers he fished to know what was being taken best, so being spot on was more difficult.  And his job was demanding.  Excuses?  Perhaps.  But the truth is, a man can only do so much.  He did that, and more.  It has been on my mind for years.  Trout sashimi with salt and lemon or lime among other cooked and variously cooked dishes... such as ceviche, fishing itself, learning the skill, and enjoying the time out on a stream.  It can be a quite expensive hobby, if tying flies might help cut the cost.

Lots of things to do, just no way to get to it, often.  I may call my friend and cancel until next week.  The weather isn't behaving, in any case.  And I seem to need to rest through it.  I prefer to have these events planned a bit better.  But to plan, and fulfill the planning, I need to be doing better.  I think I am getting there, or at least holding on.  Yes, flat on my back, but not falling.  I just need to figure out how to get back up.  I've done it, partially, a few times.  But those attempts sent me right back down, and quickly.  Bleh.  I'm working on it.

Oh, one other thing that has been on my mind.  Fear not.  If you are with people you know hold to Truth, God really, but more you do... don't worry.  For good or ill, here, all things work to God's will.  Don't just believe it, know it.  Yes, we have our own plans, our own hopes, and many other things.  The plans of men are as so much straw to a wind.  Even death should not cause you undue worry, less so the possibilities of life.  Hard, easy, often these things, as many others including fear, are just fictions in our mind, born of a doubtful heart.  If nothing else, find a moment, and take your fears to God.  Lift them to Him.  Then listen.  It might be answered right there.  You already knew but would not hear, or it hits.  Or, over time, you will see that path is exactly as it should be.  Amen.

Yes, yes, I fear.  I also, when I realize it, do exactly as I have prescribed, which was taught to me by another as well.  It is a failing, but a very understandable one.  It will, if you let it, drive you to misery, and perhaps great sin.  Don't go there.  I've been there.  It is an empty place of death.  Later.

I may have mentioned before?

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A truth.  Like it or not, believe as you choose.  You actually already know.  Your beliefs and likes are not my concern.  Once a thing, always a thing.  Some things just don't go away.

In the beginning, being such a sort was for my own purposes.  My own purposes were simple.  As hunger, want, need, shape us in early life.  We use our skills to fill those needs and wants.  We trade wisely, and poorly, learning our limits, and how best to get what we want without giving up what we don't wish to lose.  Negotiating our way from here to there.  We tally values, compare costs, look at the field of competitors and obstacles with which we must contend.  We review, test, and hone our personal assets.  At some point the war must happen.  Often, all of our training and work comes down to a few very scant moments in life.  Much as any war, the winners have usually spent great coin, time, and effort into making those scant moments count in the win column.

If all were equal, those who obsessed would win.  But that isn't how it goes.  All women, and most men, look for someone to give them authority, a purpose, a direction, and enemy.  Training is one thing.  A different thing, of various qualities.  Often the best at many things was never trained but by experience.  Sometimes, in some things, that is the only way.  Whether that training came from having no choice to having no options, and various possibilities and mixes of those things matters little.  Such men are unique in their field, considered a little different.  While, often, despised for it, success sells.

A tough morning.

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It does feel as if I have been bayoneted.  Not once.  Pretty much my midsection feels to have been a pincushion of sorts.  It is mostly organs turning in their little beds, or barking, though some of it feels as if to be internal bruising on the inside of the ribcage.  Can't confirm any of it, just describing it as I can.  I am not exactly sure why.  The weather turned dark and cool to cold as well.  I had an appointment for my next lesson in braiding.  I rescheduled that for next week, same day and time.  It's a brutal day.  I don't feel particularly green about the gills, merely sore.  But sore enough that today is probably going to be a wash.

I went to bed at a reasonable hour, slept well.  I set the alarm for a reasonable hour, and change.  I fought the snooze bar three quarters of an hour past the alarm.  I surrendered, a bit, as that was just antagonizing my crave for sleep.  I adjusted the alarm time for the next hour coming up, which would give me fifteen minutes to sort things out.  If that failed, I would have added another hour.  The fifteen minutes was enough, mostly.  If I had thought about it I might have stayed in bed.  I am still absolutely wiped out.  As it would happen, however, when the alarm went off I popped out of bed as if I knew what I was doing.  *pop*  Like toast, fully mechanical.  I will probably have to nap before too long.  So long as I rescheduled, I am fine with whatever else happens.  If more as a man, sorely wounded on the field but unable to do much might not mind either the morphine and a gurney or the bayonet to finish the job.  :p

Oh, one thing about the Hannibal series is the notion of the second character, that of the character of Will Graham.  If I see a model, it would be him.  I just don't like him.  For many reasons.  I understand not being able to save, empathy to a point that is uncomfortable to say the least, and some other things.  I understand what it is he is doing or trying to do.  But he is a failure in every way.  I definitely understand that.  I guess I think of him as too small for the shoes he has attempted to wear.  Then again, I did lose everything.  And I do mean... everything.  Had to.  But it wasn't just taken right under my nose, or without a fight.  And, as with Job, everything (almost) has been returned.  I don't know, not quite my thing.  Just... I'll probably begin considering him.  Jack, the senior FBI "guru" is a typical politically correct pick, more so in these times.  No interest there.

Oh, right.  Someone was suggesting that he had not killed a single man, but had greatly enjoyed their obituary.  Mark Twain, actually.  My first thought was, how graciously gutless of him.  In some circumstances, that might be fine.  In some, not so much.  But for that to be all of a man leaves me some wonder.  Further, I am quite sure, in his day, Twain might well have, at least publicly, been one to consider Christ in those numbers.  I am, actually, quite sure, I will be in those numbers for someone as Clemens.  While nowhere near Christ, I would much rather follow in Christ's steps, then be hailed by king and country.  For my own satisfactions, if laments for my own reasons which are beyond me, I suspect, for those who do know me, I my obituary will be the main course with many relishes.  There is a sneaking satisfaction to it, though, I must admit.  The sadness isn't for my loss, but for the loss of others.  And not for my part, but for the part of whose shoes I am poorly attempting to walk in.  Better to be buried a pauper, or even dumped in a ditch, than to be beloved through worldly eyes.  The indignity, I pray, is not mine.  Still...  I did notice.

Hmm... a shower and bath?  I'll... try to get to it.  Oh... been too tired to even do minor editing lately.  If I can focus, I'll try.  If not, I will either get to it later, if I happen to read this or other posts.  If not, discern.  Now, on the good side, I didn't alter the appointment because I haven't done my homework.  I now know the simple braid, if more practice can't hurt.  I can, almost automatically, put in a simple braid.  I will be ready to learn the more complex version, my mother thought it would be the French braid.  I don't know myself, only that hair will be added in, rather than just using three strands as I do now.  I will simply be even more practiced at our next meeting.  Later.

A review.

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Since I was viewing Hannibal, the last section, while imbibing, and had other things on my mind, I was pretty sure this wasn't the same as the movie version.  So I watched again, part of the last season, so far, in any case.  It does seem, this time around, as if Hannibal is... similar to the one in the movies.  Perhaps there is a bit more practicality to the notion.  Sometimes killing isn't intended but there isn't an option.  There is the notion that he does find and kill other psychopaths, which he does.  And there is the idea I expressed recently, regarding those in charge being forms of psychopaths.  However, the line is so thin that I believe it to be too tenuous.  I am siding with my initial understanding, just a bit more thinly.  Everything he does, however, isn't exactly about him.  He has a plan, and there is a plan.  It seems he is more trying to align with some overall plan.  I suppose you might call this his faith.

I will not continue with the series.  He is a dragon, but a secular one.  He has faith, but it too is secular.  He is willing to do what it takes, and is interesting in forming others like himself into what he thinks they could be.  Not for his plan, but for his faith.  This is not interesting to me.  There is no means to or for salvation.  He is merely lost.  He is not a confused savior, he isn't trying to do good, he is merely going with the flow as he sees it.  He has surrendered.  As I said, you cannot surrender to yourself.  He obviously has not surrendered to good, even darkly.  He is merely feral, if brilliantly.  Perhaps more Hollywood atheist-superman chic than brilliant?  I'm on the fence on that aspect.  I will finish the series, as some of the shows were not completely seen.

I am not sure if the show's director ruined the notion, or if I mistook the movies.  I may have to appraise the discrepancy at some point.  For now, after watching the last of the series, I am done with the review.  There really are monsters out there, looking out for people, willing and able to do what has to be done and take the risks that go with it.  Some, many perhaps, have gone to their graves with secrets, to spare the living, perhaps even the dead, knowledge that is best unspoken.  There are some who function every day.  They are real.  This show simply isn't depicting one of them.  I am now unsure if the movies did either.  The idea is their, the style is wrong.  Well, and he seems willing and able to kill anyone, that part is selfish.  It doesn't fit either.

Ah, bedtime.  Perhaps a bit of reading first.  Good night.

Just not quite getting it all together.

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I did make it to the post office.  Oh, and on time.  I had two packages in, not just the one.  Did I mention that?  If so, see?  Yes, one of those days.  I didn't think I'd be able to make it through the day, so attempted a nap.  I almost got there, then failed.  Or the nap was simply very short.  I know I tried.  I just couldn't get to sleep, or if I did make it didn't stay asleep... or even realize I had slept.  If nothing else, I feel that I might be able to push on through the rest of the day.  Sometimes just resting your eyes, without sleep, is enough?  All good.

No complaints, just diary stuff.  I like my little life.  I don't feel the need to understand, not always.  I am curious though.  I would like to know.  I would like to take what I know and roll it into successes of some sort.  I do believe that will be one of the things taught in heaven, and then taken beyond.  It'll still take some practice, is my guess.  There are a lot of things that raise interest, wet curiosity, which could be perfected.  Layers on layers of this and that and the other thing.  Starting with self and moving on to other things.

You know, I was thinking about something else.  Hell.  Why do they suggest that hell is death?  If someone is in hell, aren't they alive?  Then it hit me.  While they aren't dead, in hell, they also aren't of flesh.  And, in hell, there is no chance at returning as a living being on the new earth.  So, yes, it is death.  I can see now why the various pronouncements.  They may simply not have had a term for it, being so far removed from all other things we know, or believe.  I don't think we have a word for it even now.  It isn't undead, it isn't death... exactly, it isn't ceasing to exist, it could be death to God or from God, but that is far too vague.  No, I don't think we have a word, or phrase, for it.  It is anathema to our thought, even to the thought of those claiming atheism.  It is terrifying.  To be and yet not to be.  I can see why they choose to believe they will just cease to exist.  But just as the matter that makes them came from something, and will return to it, so their being, who they are, will return from whence it came.  Nothing comes from nothing.  Everything returns from whence it came, in part or whole.  Sure, we don't return to our birth parents, but they did not create birth.  Even so, live long enough, and you do become them.  :p  So it is, even with God.  I guess hell is the cosmic form of death... not long enough.

I need to get going on housecleaning.  At least a bit.  The cookout will be out of doors, but if I want witnesses for the egg boil thing, I want to have the kitchen presentable... or enough.  At least they are all men.  Men know the tics of bachelorhood.  Still...  And, well, I want to clear and clean to get back to cooking, and pickling eggs, and experimentation, sharpening of a few things, and just because.  I'm still in that odd down cycle that isn't quite a down cycle.  I suspect weather, the fast changes, the lack of sun, and such.  I don't adjust well to changes.  I might well survive an ice-age, but I'll be napping when not looking for food or traveling.  Just like a bear, I suppose?

Oh, as for handling recent crisis, borrowing a pic from a fellow blogger, I may have used my regular method.  Not sure it always works, but... it can be fun.  I'm still alive, anyway, so far.  Much of it was completely misconstrued, on the other side of things, mind you.  And, then, I took my turn at it, too.  All fun and games, as they say.  Yeah, how about that cold glass of water I asked for?  Never mind, I'll get it myself.  

Just trying to figure some things out.  Writing about them, and planning here, sometimes puts enough of it together, in one basket, so that I can see, or push past and do.  Tick-tock.  Later.

How about them's apples.

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Wasn't sure I'd make it on time.  The post closes at noon.  I woke at... 10:30, give or take.  My mind trips over my body those first few hours.  I wanted a shower, I usually have a package that needs delivered in that first hour or two and, and, and...  Oh, right, coffee.  But I didn't get to most of it.  Package was delivered though.  :p  I think Sam is a medical spy.  She has to watch.  *blink blink*  Spy! 

I had two packages.  One from so long ago I had forgotten finally showed.  It did, however, to be fair, take the slow boat from China.  The other are the reloading dies.  I am thinking to use one of them relatively quickly... to make gifts for someone.  Nothing like building friendships on bullets.  Maybe that's just me, but... I wouldn't count on that.  A box or two of freebees as a form of thanks hurts no feelings, all I'm suggesting. 

Now, to figure out what I was trying to figure out before realizing there wasn't time to figure almost any of it out.  Yeah, not even close to being awake.  I didn't hit any speed-bumps, so I'm pretty sure the drive went okay.  Oh, don't worry.  Most people who drive are in worse condition than I am, they are just so used to it they no longer think too much of it.  And that's to start, if they then begin putting on make-up, or talking on the phone, quality only gets worse.  I watch, when pedestrianing.  I don't want to be a speed bump.  Most likely, they would back up to check, then drive forward to escape what passes for shame.  And it still wouldn't kill me.  Bleh. 

No worries, just in a jocular sort of grumpy blathering.  Laughing while I imagine getting "lucky"... again.  On the good side, for you?  I'll be here all week.  Later.

A great sleep.

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Cool but not too cold, and the cool coming after a period when it was nearly too warm, at least for me.  Rain drops tapping on the roof, pretty much since I went to bed.  A need for rest.  Even so, just about the right amount of sleep for life to be good.  Waking just a bit disoriented, even so.  No sun, perhaps.  Or maybe some emotional roiling of late.  Still, a good morning.  The type of morning one wishes to enjoy.  Actually, more like most mornings I remember before becoming ill.  I always pushed and was never a morning man. 

I need to get to the post office.  I have something in, and only hope they kept it.  I kept missing.  I best be off.  After that, I don't know.  While it is the type of morning I remember, I always had someone to tell me what to do until I could do it myself.  School, when younger, a chief or senior petty officer after that.  And, of course, customs, regulations, and all the rest.  I live in a no-man's land, in a way.  Wild and free.  Not because I am untrainable or untenable, but because I am mostly unable to quite fill a role.  And yet, I have found a small place in a small world and made it work.  Mostly.

I know Sam won't want to go out.  Maybe a bit, though probably not.  If it rained for a week, she might go out in the wet a time or two.  As with my mother, she is a fair-weather friend to the outdoors.  Even with the porch and an inlet windowsill or three, even on days she doesn't chase birds or look for mice, she prefers to be out when, if she should want, she would feel good doing so.  Wet days are not such days, even if they are warmer.  Sassy only goes out if the day has been hot and then cools nicely, and even then only once or twice ever few weeks.  Even then, only if I am very patient with the door, and coo just right.  Plus promise to let her in shortly and keep my word.

I know I dreamed.  Several times.  I thought I had grabbed one, and did for a while.  Sleep was simply too good for me to keep hold of the memory, or memories.  Yes, I best get dressed and get going.  When I get back, sometime, a shower then bath.  My feet are becoming human again, with the pumice stone and oil.  Once I get them into right shape, keeping them that way should be easier.  My mother suggested something her fellow uses, gold bond rough skin treatment.  The stuff they make seems to be made more for women.  Doesn't really help men all that much.  I have it on good authority that this stuff works on men. 

Later.

What do you know?

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There is still some good news out there.

A bit of sorrow.

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I was... am being... hit.  From this side, and that.  Just being something, or having thought something innocently for my part, is enough for one group.  Having realized being something, even that same thing, was an untruth is reason enough for another side.  For some there isn't a way out, according to some.  Thankfully there is Christ.  Never will there be sympathy, and rarer yet empathy.  Even assuming any group even stops to consider what it was all about.  Oh, yes.  I understand.  I had a place at each table, and feasted on each of the various truths, of the right and wrong kinds.  I had thought to lament and lambast.  I did, actually, but pulled that.  I wanted, instead of reacting, merely responding to the pains and barbs, to... consider.  And so I did.  Funny thing is, the song was about something else entirely.  I didn't understand the squawk until I viewed the thing.  Might I remind, I was a skirt chaser more than almost anything else, it's just the why and wherefore sometimes varied.

Having been at each table, for various reasons, in different seasons, with various levels of maturity, I have everything I need to understand.  I have even been a pretender... for fear, in self-loathing, in hatred, and at each table.  Sometimes I just tried to believe in order to correct something, but at a juvenile level.  So, I know why each has their stance.  Better at those?  Certainly not of as great of a length of time as others, but just as certainly as any other who has held them.

The pain.  It is fear of pain, of loss, of some other things, that can make men take a stance.  Defensive, at times, offensive at other times.  A war with self, with others, attempting to exchange a stance against the sin of another to cover for one's own sins, or the sins of those one loves.  Even one's own sin, being fought but wrongheadedly.  A fools errand, but when the barrel is empty leaving nothing else to offer, it is the easy way to go.  There is less pain to hunger if a cause, right or wrong, can be found?  Perhaps.  If you abused drugs in the past, should you really go into drug counseling?  Really?  Or if you are sinless in one area, should you really be casting stones at those in it?  There are times to be defensive.  When someone tries to get you to lift one sin or another, raising it to just a choice, you need to, and should defend.  And, further, if someone tries to legislate sin as a mandate, even of a milder sort, that should be directly attacked.  Just... know which is which.  Not easy in these times, but look closely, ask, directly.  Don't just start throwing stones.  I suppose the hardest part is for those in sin who wish it not to be sin.  They honestly don't have a leg to stand on, so they deny and defend.  It's an empty gesture, and will lead to very bad things.  Some have to be left to it though.  A very hard thing.

No, I won't fight.  There is nothing to fight.  These people are fighting their own notions, using me as both the focus and the target.  I know the pain.  I left people in a place that never was to come to the truth.  Death isn't always, or just, physical.  I have known many forms of death.  But I am not going to try to sit at either table, for both have great flaws.  I will sit at my table, of understanding.  Those who choose to join me on the feast of humility, hardships, sadness, forgiveness, but life, love, joy, and truth, may do so.  The rest, as usual, if sadly, will have to go their own way.  With prayers, and hope.  I know those tables well.  Bitter, untrue, wrong, but a place, somewhere.  I had to make choices, and did.  Neither table.  Christ set one, and I join Him at it.  He has even more right than I to be bitter, at me, the world, sin, but... chose to invite even me, a sinner of many circles, a denier and liar, a student, and now I believe a brother once I stopped... trying to go wrong to be right?  In truth.

I will pray.  But take no offense, just as much for me, even or especially here and now, as for you.  But you will be in the prayers no less.  Unless you wish to take offense, of course.  Nothing I can do about that, either.  Yes, I think this is the answer I needed.  Glad I took it to God.  He is wiser, has a cooler head and, really, a softer yet surer hand.  I need that too.  I see where women get that part.  He, like they... a trap!  :)  A right trap, but a trap indeed.  Later.

Always good to talk to mom.

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I called last evening.  I suspected she was awake, but in one of those moods where answering is too much.  Right at her bedtime.  After missing her call today, but calling back when I realized it, from what she suggested, I suspect so.  No, not a complaint, just understanding.  On some days, once on the trajectory toward sleep, nothing but cataclysm and maybe not that, can interferer.  Age sets that in even more so.  I have known that, as a much older person might, for most of my adult life.  It's actually a pleasant thing, if it can be enjoyed.  The poetry of rest, and sleep, are expressed and seen in those times as in no other times.

It is good to hear the voices of those you love, to know they are well, or well enough.  Bodies get cranky as they age, as does spirit and mind from time to time.  Sharing in these too is good.  Discussing weather is a lead to other things.  My mother is a summer girl, spring and fall in there better parts.  In some ways typical, but not really.  She is as close to an outdoors woman as has been made.  Never a hunter, a fisher at times, but more just being outside.  The sun, trees, flowers, air, but more just natural.  Not biologically or botanically oriented, as a knower or seeker.  Just a lover of the outdoors, if more a fair-weather friend to it.  I can track, a bit, her future by the lay of the weather.  And the weather is looking to turn good.

Oh, my nap this morning?  It ate my day.  It might have anyway, but when it clouded up, my body globbed onto sleep the way I drink water when thirsty.  I went in at 7:30, maybe, and didn't wake until mid-afternoon... 15:30?  Sam was singing the "songs of her people", as she prepare to die from starvation.  *grins*  She can sing such a sad song, I swear.  Well, and banging on the door, like a drum accompaniment to her slow sad dirge to self.  Ah well, good to be important enough to receive a serenade?  I'll take it.

Today?  Still resting, I think.  I want to get to some things, I just don't have anything to offer.  I may take that bath I had hoped to take yesterday, and a shower.  I had the time, after missing my time, but not the heart.  Failure is not only an option, it's often all I can know.  Not a choice, a part of my reality.  If, on the good side, perhaps something to help remind me to be humble.  Yes, yes, pride.  A sin, and a thing that goes before a fall.  Not always necessary, not in my case, but... sometimes, even for one who some think should have no pride at all.  Once excess, or another, the world seems to try to demand.  I give, and take, my dues, and no more.  Excesses are handed to the One who has asked for them, if for my sake.  Odd all that, but so it is, at least as I see things.

Ugh...  A bath, then shower?  Maybe, in a bit, or not.  Ugh.  It's become a dark day.  I'll work through it anyway.  There are those who need, and have asked for... some of them, prayer.  A good day for it.  Later.

Sleep was weird.

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Actually I didn't get much of it.  I went to bed at, oh... 1:30.  I woke at 4:30.  No rhyme or reason.  I may read a bit, while hoping a nap sneaks up on me.  I like the wake-up time, not the bedtime.  I'll do what I can to keep the good and toss the bad, but that isn't always possible.  A nap, early enough today, might work well toward my ends though.  Especially if I can work through my weird fall and get to some tasks.

Another good day, outside, from the looks of things.  The sun seems to be rising without interference.  It is still cool enough that mornings are pleasant unless you have to push early.  I suggested that spring was good this year only to have it suggested that it's been spring all winter.  I had to laugh a bit, and couldn't really disagree.  Even the few cold spells never had that real bite of winter, or for long... not long enough for the dreary of cold weary to bring about the normal winter brooding.  Some dark days, little and low sun, of course.  But even then, it never, to me, seemed to be a "good day for a murder", as my friend might put it.

Hmm... laundry, dishes... but bathroom first.  I want to get the new rugs down, just to see.  If they work, I will order a few more.  Nothing fancy, just handy and with purpose.  Three sets would see me more willing to toss them in the wash more often.  I'm not great about keeping up with the Mrs. Jones', so I hope they are sturdy enough for some minor *cough* abuse.

Yes, yes, reading and then a nap, I suppose.  Good day.  See you later.

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Oh, as I am about to drift off into a nap, something came to me.  I've been being razzed, for some of what I have implied.  Not just from one side, from both sides of things.  It can be bruising, just telling the stories sure as possible.  But then I remember.  I really am continuing His work.  Matthew 10:35.  I might guess, should all pawns be gone, then a man becomes king.  If he wins against all other kings, and the pawns are gone as well, he finally becomes his own last and best enemy as well.  Brother, will you spare me a cup of cold water to drink?

Some thoughts and a dream.

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As I was reaching sleep's terminal velocity, reviewing Hannibal, some things struck me.  If you make it to near the top of your field, whatever that field is, one of two things has to be true.  You are, or have become, a socio/psych-path or your are useful to one in a general manner.  If you are preferred by a top-dog, most likely you are two other things.  First, you are generally useful.  Insightful, inventive, entertaining, though the larger the number the descriptives, the greater the chance at success.  Now, depending on the field, the draw from the general public, will usually indicate the depth of the depravity.  How far will, say, a rock-star or politician go, versus say the head of an one-off academic professor or even college dean?  Some of it is due to mechanical wealth, access, and such.  Some of it is based on other allowances or aspects, such as access to power.  And, men being men, that won't always make perfect sense.

There are various depths of that, even among those men.  Some men are naturals, some men have to be broken into it.  Some men are willing to outright murder, others wouldn't do that, at least not themselves.  Some, even, wouldn't allow death, though would be quite willing to do almost anything short of that.  Men?  Yes.  Women are only being allowed in because, no matter their -pathy, they aren't of that sort.  Puppets.  They fall in line very swiftly.  If you see a high-flying woman, look for the strings.  That can be true of men, I haven't seen it not true of women, not yet or personally, if I haven't always found who holds the string(s).  It's just the way it is.  Can't beat em'?  Own em'.  Though I think their inclusion was a part of their plan all along.  Not a good thing, mind you.  A necessary one, even for them, for very specific reasons.

Beside the common ones, once in a while there is another sort.  Call him a tyrant.  He not only has the bones to be among the most daring among them, he has the skills and other assets that allows him to know the others... their natures, their skills, their failings... seeing along their whole line.  Further, he can access their skills, folding them into his lines or simply destroying them if they don't fit his system preferences.  Rare indeed, but out there.  Older, often, but not always.  A dragon does not, ever, become a dragon just by aging.  He becomes a dragon by starting as a worm, and eating other worms.  The greatest of these have not just done that, but have eaten even other dragons, and then great and then ancient, dragons.

I had to ask myself which I was.  I had made it into the ranks.  Eyes from above and below were on me.  My pace was rather wicked and quick, until I fell.  I wondered, from where I had accessed, and all that had transpired, if they would... pounce.  From above or below mattered little.  That didn't happen.  I was given a warning, or several, and ignored.  The end just never came and the time passed for it.  My threat was neutralized, hidden in a type of dirt, buried without the body.

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The dream.  No, this isn't anyone I know.  The tracks, to my knowledge, do not fit.  So, if it is too close for comfort, that is purely incidental to the dream.  And it is just a dream.

A man and his son visited.  They came in, as kin.  I had been tinkering on tech, then napped a bit and had a dream within a dream about a sex crazed female FBI agent flirting me into a man-storm.  In the dream within a dream I figured out how to fix the tech (for in real life, in the first level of the dream), and figured my way out of consorting with the woman... barely.  Don't trust women who come on too strong, I don't anyway... even in dreams.  I was implementing what I had dreamed, as a tech solution, when the visitors arrived.

They had a breakfast spread with them.  Potatoes, eggs and maybe bacon in that, wrapped in aluminum foil.  They had brought, as well, some sort of orange juice.  They sort of invaded my home, though in a manner that I am quite amenable regarding.  Any man can be a brother, should he choose, and dare, to be.  Not just a dream thing.  More "sophisticated" or less matters not a bit.  Only as much dare as it takes.  I am a dragon, that is true as well, if not of my natural sort.  A dragon with a King... a brother I myself dared to entertain.

The man and his son were bright of personality and potent of nature.  They had come to believe that I was, potentially, of a nature worth risking a connection.  There had been some questions, and doubts.  And some of those remained.  But enough time and testing had satisfied some of their doubts, enough of them to engage in fellowship.  The father had tamed, much.  I had thought him married only once, but it seems he had twice been wed.  None... well okay one man, but he doesn't have many sons or that I know of... has been married twice hereabouts.  Yes, I admit I could be ignorant, just...  Well, and there are other things about the story that don't seem of locals... probably.

While the meal was being set out, I remembered something I could add to it.  Nothing fancy, just a bit to encourage the endeavor.  No attempt to overshadow, just joining the process in a token but real way.  As I was getting that, the conversation began.  The father started talking about women, wives, finding them and such.  Oh, well, I had plenty to add.  Being on that track, as I am, for my part.  He had smoothed out, from the sounds of things, from his first, and certainly second wife, and from the passage of time perhaps.  A wild one, he had been.  I could tell, but from the addition of what his son had to say, it became quite clear.  I can't be certain why the visit, though the conversation lead me to believe there was some discovery occurring.  For whom, or why, was yet to be settled, though I don't think it ever was perfectly settled.  I don't need, or even always have a want, to always know all reasons.  Though, as I indicated, whether I know or not, I am... suspicious, just not antagonistically... merely curiously... usually.  Depends on the intensity of the reason for suspicion.

The father, but definitely and more strongly the son, had some suspicion that my tales belied a nature that might be contrary to relations with women, right relations.  Suspicion is no less in my nature than the natures of other men and more so in women, if less of a devotion among women... or different reasons for depth as womenfolk are?  Some things I will never know as I live and breath.  But I do suspect.  My fancy words, excessive seeming thinking, writing, and... 'parfummed' baths... among other things... left a few doubts.  All good.  In these, as all times, best to check.  But checking with a punch in the nose is less sure.  Some queerfolk can punch back quite dandily.  No, a bit of checking from afar, then a bit more close work was needed.  Even then, one can't be sure, only surer.  But that is as good as it gets here.

We had a grand visit.  I exposed my nature as a hunter of my own style.  In the dream, I let it be known that I had hunted men, and women, if for very different reasons.  That I had hunted men, at one time, in part, for a living.  And that I had also hunted many women, if more in a lost life looking for something I didn't understand.  Both things had changed.  Still in the market for a wife, but with new contemplations and devotions through faith, a critical element I had not had before.  The father didn't fully understand, on one hand.  He had risked much and gotten away with only being scalped once.  I suggested that his options as to changing women out has probably been limited.  I asked if he had lived among many women, so many that none would know the next, if he could have settled.  That sort of made sense to him, then.

The meal was good.  Much understanding, or enough, transpired.  The dandy was seen as less of a fancy Dan and more as a cautious, educated, man.  Still a bit refined for absolute tastes, but no lightweight midwit either.  I would, if they were choosing for a woman, do.  And I could be tolerated, in time perhaps even appreciated in spite of, perhaps because of, my nature.  There is nothing like having brothers.  Not all of them, or sometimes any of them, are of blood.  Not a brother I have is, was, or ever will be.  Not even, fully, that of Christ.  And yet, for His part, in His time, and for my part, even as I am, so it is.  Yes... brothers.