.
.
If you choose to believe. I tell you it is all quite true then leave it there.
My feet and ankles are back to normal most of the time. Swelling is rare and mild. Measurably? Down from a 14 to a 13, though 13's are becoming sloppy. I may buy a pair of 12's this coming month. I had been up to 14's for a year or two. Returning to medicine, then attempting to keep it stable... a difficult trick for me, and yet... To keep at it.
Next, the part that is strange. Remember, not long ago, when I wrote about a bloody nose? It was in the title I think. Went on to write I had to hold the blood in my hurry to find stopper material? What I didn't write was that the blood burned my hand near to causing it to bleed. Not quite a burn of fire, perhaps more like a chemical erosion. Both palms, but the main one was raw and red until just today. Not sure what kind of blood chemistry could do that, at least without killing the bearer.
Lastly, to cooking. Grilling pork ribs (after this and that I am satisfied that they probably are indeed ribs(hush!)) and a bigger beef roast with tarragon this time. I have store-bought salsa. Not quite up to in-store made, which isn't as good as mom's, but it will easily do. I just forget options and dig in. Think of a three inch chunk of unsmoked bacon, grilled to near-bacon finish, then doused in spicey tomato tastiness. Already ate a portion and I still like it.
A bit tired from the last few days. Hoping to do the remaining dishes, finish socks of various sorts, perhaps a shower, maybe a few other odd small loads of laundry... though, most likely, only a few of those if that. Did sleep like a king last night, maybe a baby one. Making the bed this morning felt like returning a favor.
Later.
Saturday, October 21, 2017
Such dreams.
.
.
In the first dream I saw some of the hatred directed at me. Close, far, kin, kin of sorts, others. Some unexpected, some known. In a world which denies the simplest of truths, only hatred remains for those who don't just see, but profess, truth and will not recant it for a false form of love, money, or even to cover my own failings. Hatred from those who won't, can't, abide reality is... required. At least she wasn't with them this time. So be it. It stings, hurts, deeply. But I, as with my Lord, was born to suffer well. How to do it with grace? Look upon Him, up on the cross. Know He still suffers there until the last sinner is in heaven or has chosen hell. Then... sort of laugh at ones consternation as a mere papercut to the heart, and pray for them. Or, that is my solution set.
-------
The next dream was, almost frightening. I met a priest, or monk priest, running a home for troubled men. Homeless, often with serious problems which either caused there situation or arose from it. Initially my curiosity and his fervour for his mission led to an extended conversation.
Some big city, an old multi-story complex, at one time The place to stay. Mostly single rooms, all with their own facilities. Starting at $25 per month, on up to $700, greatly subsidized by the state and church in an attempt to rehab as many as possible, at least getting them off the streets and into structure. He didn't speak of himself much, though I could see lingering shadows. Had he been one of those men, there or elsewhere? I could see the shabby echo, almost feel the hunger for a needle or slug of something. The shabby could have been a learned measure from association, but the hunger could not be.
While I could see him, even that of him in shadow, he knew of me. What of what he was told, or read, that he believed he kept well hidden. Actually he attempted to play ignorant. A few well laid traps undid that ploy. Lead to a question without being given the answer while I fumbled for it, and he too often hit the answer. Funny thing? All those who fall to this... know better. Even the brightest fall for my tricks.
I simply cut to it. What do you want. A bit of fumbling, backpedalling, and then he asked if I would be interested in... employment. Pay? The pay is you pay your own rent and food, utilies included which means a solid ac, you do what you can, when you can, including security, and you get no money, gratuities, or else. So, no pay, literally, of any kind? Well, two meals a day, if you want. Where do I sign up! He wasn't sure, deadpan mockery or the other way.
But, seriously, and I laid out every flaw and health issue which causes some men, women, and doctors to blanch. As well I have two cats. Cats are not a problem, for live-in-staff. As to the rest? We don't offer sainthood, otherwise those are your issues. Need help with something we have people to speak with and medical access. He believed I was good enough.
I told him to begin charging me for the next space available, up to a certain amount, until I could figure out my house and the move. Increasing to $200 monthly max, until I could get there and figure more out. He suggested the move was something they could help with. Then some details, like bringing my own appliances was fine and other such. Oh, and finally, mass daily, with folk who would help get me to church on time.
I was left to contemplate the immediate and long-term tasks ahead, and the enormity of it all. Perhaps the end, in many ways, but an end I could live with.
-------
In the last one a voice pierced my mind. In through where a third eye would be. Sharp and fast as a small blade, such as a scalpel, though without intent to harm merely a rush to query. Why, in a strong yet shaken voice, do you write so as to give me doubts, about you, what you say, even who and what you are.
I could tell this was from one who considers himself not just a friend but an ally. Hurt, a bit of anger, yet an honest fair question.
.
In the first dream I saw some of the hatred directed at me. Close, far, kin, kin of sorts, others. Some unexpected, some known. In a world which denies the simplest of truths, only hatred remains for those who don't just see, but profess, truth and will not recant it for a false form of love, money, or even to cover my own failings. Hatred from those who won't, can't, abide reality is... required. At least she wasn't with them this time. So be it. It stings, hurts, deeply. But I, as with my Lord, was born to suffer well. How to do it with grace? Look upon Him, up on the cross. Know He still suffers there until the last sinner is in heaven or has chosen hell. Then... sort of laugh at ones consternation as a mere papercut to the heart, and pray for them. Or, that is my solution set.
-------
The next dream was, almost frightening. I met a priest, or monk priest, running a home for troubled men. Homeless, often with serious problems which either caused there situation or arose from it. Initially my curiosity and his fervour for his mission led to an extended conversation.
Some big city, an old multi-story complex, at one time The place to stay. Mostly single rooms, all with their own facilities. Starting at $25 per month, on up to $700, greatly subsidized by the state and church in an attempt to rehab as many as possible, at least getting them off the streets and into structure. He didn't speak of himself much, though I could see lingering shadows. Had he been one of those men, there or elsewhere? I could see the shabby echo, almost feel the hunger for a needle or slug of something. The shabby could have been a learned measure from association, but the hunger could not be.
While I could see him, even that of him in shadow, he knew of me. What of what he was told, or read, that he believed he kept well hidden. Actually he attempted to play ignorant. A few well laid traps undid that ploy. Lead to a question without being given the answer while I fumbled for it, and he too often hit the answer. Funny thing? All those who fall to this... know better. Even the brightest fall for my tricks.
I simply cut to it. What do you want. A bit of fumbling, backpedalling, and then he asked if I would be interested in... employment. Pay? The pay is you pay your own rent and food, utilies included which means a solid ac, you do what you can, when you can, including security, and you get no money, gratuities, or else. So, no pay, literally, of any kind? Well, two meals a day, if you want. Where do I sign up! He wasn't sure, deadpan mockery or the other way.
But, seriously, and I laid out every flaw and health issue which causes some men, women, and doctors to blanch. As well I have two cats. Cats are not a problem, for live-in-staff. As to the rest? We don't offer sainthood, otherwise those are your issues. Need help with something we have people to speak with and medical access. He believed I was good enough.
I told him to begin charging me for the next space available, up to a certain amount, until I could figure out my house and the move. Increasing to $200 monthly max, until I could get there and figure more out. He suggested the move was something they could help with. Then some details, like bringing my own appliances was fine and other such. Oh, and finally, mass daily, with folk who would help get me to church on time.
I was left to contemplate the immediate and long-term tasks ahead, and the enormity of it all. Perhaps the end, in many ways, but an end I could live with.
-------
In the last one a voice pierced my mind. In through where a third eye would be. Sharp and fast as a small blade, such as a scalpel, though without intent to harm merely a rush to query. Why, in a strong yet shaken voice, do you write so as to give me doubts, about you, what you say, even who and what you are.
I could tell this was from one who considers himself not just a friend but an ally. Hurt, a bit of anger, yet an honest fair question.
Friday, October 20, 2017
To town.
.
.
Groceries. A lot of them. A few veggies, several cheeses, a lot of meat. Pasta was on a very good sale. I bught twelve pounds, three types. That should last six months. I love it but it is a treat as if it was a donut, or six. Which, *cough*, never mind. Nothing fancy, it was just good to be out. Missed paying the bill, if I might figure even that out before Monday. I will have to write a bunch of checks while at it.
It's a pleasant fall, weatherwise. Sure helps make the prospect of winter seem less daunting. Though I already like winter so some claim foul. Hush, woman. ;p If I can keep up, I would like to hit some yardwork before the chance is gone. I hate waking just as opportunity is slipping, but with more vital things required first, and with such limited capacity as is. I'll try. Raking, putting up tools and hoses, and just looking around, a home captain's duty, and desire in my case. May not mean much but it does mean something.
.
Groceries. A lot of them. A few veggies, several cheeses, a lot of meat. Pasta was on a very good sale. I bught twelve pounds, three types. That should last six months. I love it but it is a treat as if it was a donut, or six. Which, *cough*, never mind. Nothing fancy, it was just good to be out. Missed paying the bill, if I might figure even that out before Monday. I will have to write a bunch of checks while at it.
It's a pleasant fall, weatherwise. Sure helps make the prospect of winter seem less daunting. Though I already like winter so some claim foul. Hush, woman. ;p If I can keep up, I would like to hit some yardwork before the chance is gone. I hate waking just as opportunity is slipping, but with more vital things required first, and with such limited capacity as is. I'll try. Raking, putting up tools and hoses, and just looking around, a home captain's duty, and desire in my case. May not mean much but it does mean something.
But I'm not vegetarian, damn it.
.
.
Working has reintroduced appetite. I haven't thawed meat, what had been grilled was going, going, gone. At 'breakfast' the last of the chicken was vacuumed. As dinner rolled around I had to think. The beans are gone, no meat thawed... what could work? Pasta? With butter? Not very sexy, too many carbs... it is what was available. Then I saw it, a bag of dehydrated mushrooms, shiitakes I believe.
While boiling water, in went a handful, quite a lot when finished. Getting them just right is a bit of a trick... rehydrate, which leaves them bland with a texture between cardboard and soft leather, so frying in butter invigorates the flavor while averaging the texture to something more like fresh mushrooms. Extra butter, in with the noodles, mushrooms on the side in case they didn't work out, and? Quite good! But... I'm not a vegitarian!
Shut up. But seriously, pretty good grub on the fly. Later.
.
Working has reintroduced appetite. I haven't thawed meat, what had been grilled was going, going, gone. At 'breakfast' the last of the chicken was vacuumed. As dinner rolled around I had to think. The beans are gone, no meat thawed... what could work? Pasta? With butter? Not very sexy, too many carbs... it is what was available. Then I saw it, a bag of dehydrated mushrooms, shiitakes I believe.
While boiling water, in went a handful, quite a lot when finished. Getting them just right is a bit of a trick... rehydrate, which leaves them bland with a texture between cardboard and soft leather, so frying in butter invigorates the flavor while averaging the texture to something more like fresh mushrooms. Extra butter, in with the noodles, mushrooms on the side in case they didn't work out, and? Quite good! But... I'm not a vegitarian!
Shut up. But seriously, pretty good grub on the fly. Later.
Late.
.
.
If not so late by twothirds of a day, as had been presumed. Well, it isn't Saturday as had been believed. Still, not up until nearly noon, that is late on any given day, for one attempting a day course. Being up to 2:30 finishing things, due to both a late and unexpected start can do that. I put it in the 'fair' column. The only thing not marked off the list was the shower.
First thing this morning I stripped the bed. All bedding, and bits of clothing from yesterday, were taken back, sorted, and the first load set up. A shower first, which has been taken. The first load then started. That is a heavier coverlette, may need to air, and drip, dry. This agitatorless toploader just can't get some things dry, at all. That is the last piece of junk modern tech I will willingly buy. I may just replace it in a few years. Someone else might well be happy with it even so. Women are weird.
Being Friday, I might get some other things done for sure. Beside bedding, the last of the dishes, the stovetop, and the counters, I hope to clean the oven compartment. It is self cleaning, I have to manually remove bits from a potato bomb (why some do that while most don't?) and maybe a smudge of this or that here or there. Oh, perhaps an attack on the mess under the sink. A first go at it anyway. The mess of a world we live in, our fault, their fault, nobody's fault. Can't truly escape it, just try to keep enough ahead of it that we can tolerate (at which time we then move on to greater faults), or merely learn to endure in suffering humility. If that makes the occasional shower and clean bed a joy.
I'll do my best. Good afternoon.
------
That worked out better than anticipated. The comforter, that is. Heavy, thick, has caused trouble washing before. I went with the 'deep water' setting, if that is normal due to it's bulk. No need to hang it out, it was spun well enough. Can tell both by weight, feel, and whether it is dripping. Not sure how fast it will dry, but outside, today, wasn't a real option by appearances. I am only using the warm setting, might even cut that when I check.
Next, to check my balance and start paying bills. I'd love a nap, but I need to try to keep days for a while longer. To make yesterday a fluke I can't nap this late. Later.
------
Better. In every way.
I checked my account. All good and change. I then found the numbers and other data to begin paying bills. Two down. The remaining bill will require getting out, but not office hours. It will be an extra incentive to go shopping, if fasting is about to become a thing again. Thing is, if you fast you really need to feed the machine more rightly, precisely, better. Being in the potassium will be the trick that binds.
The bedspread is doing much better than anticipated. It was on low, even so. I turned it to medium, hopefully to finish. Dishes are soaking and the rest of the bedding is waiting on the dryer. I can still flip and turn one of the thickest and heaviest queen mattresses on the market as if tossing a child in play. Sometimes I still surprise myself.
I decided to do some shopping. Amazon is difficult to navigate on the ps4. No ad-blocker. Crashes and very slow. I have found a few tricks but they only help a bit, at times. Anyway, gum to help with fasting, then two more sets of flannel sheets with extra matchig, big and standard pillow cases... love lots of... fluffy pillows. Yeah, it'll help.
Much better. I will sleep like a king tonight. Everything except social security and one bill is up to speed, the house is back in play, my room will smell and be cleaner, my body is clean and I might shower again before bed, and even so, for now, I am well in the black. If I die tonight?
.
If not so late by twothirds of a day, as had been presumed. Well, it isn't Saturday as had been believed. Still, not up until nearly noon, that is late on any given day, for one attempting a day course. Being up to 2:30 finishing things, due to both a late and unexpected start can do that. I put it in the 'fair' column. The only thing not marked off the list was the shower.
First thing this morning I stripped the bed. All bedding, and bits of clothing from yesterday, were taken back, sorted, and the first load set up. A shower first, which has been taken. The first load then started. That is a heavier coverlette, may need to air, and drip, dry. This agitatorless toploader just can't get some things dry, at all. That is the last piece of junk modern tech I will willingly buy. I may just replace it in a few years. Someone else might well be happy with it even so. Women are weird.
Being Friday, I might get some other things done for sure. Beside bedding, the last of the dishes, the stovetop, and the counters, I hope to clean the oven compartment. It is self cleaning, I have to manually remove bits from a potato bomb (why some do that while most don't?) and maybe a smudge of this or that here or there. Oh, perhaps an attack on the mess under the sink. A first go at it anyway. The mess of a world we live in, our fault, their fault, nobody's fault. Can't truly escape it, just try to keep enough ahead of it that we can tolerate (at which time we then move on to greater faults), or merely learn to endure in suffering humility. If that makes the occasional shower and clean bed a joy.
I'll do my best. Good afternoon.
------
That worked out better than anticipated. The comforter, that is. Heavy, thick, has caused trouble washing before. I went with the 'deep water' setting, if that is normal due to it's bulk. No need to hang it out, it was spun well enough. Can tell both by weight, feel, and whether it is dripping. Not sure how fast it will dry, but outside, today, wasn't a real option by appearances. I am only using the warm setting, might even cut that when I check.
Next, to check my balance and start paying bills. I'd love a nap, but I need to try to keep days for a while longer. To make yesterday a fluke I can't nap this late. Later.
------
Better. In every way.
I checked my account. All good and change. I then found the numbers and other data to begin paying bills. Two down. The remaining bill will require getting out, but not office hours. It will be an extra incentive to go shopping, if fasting is about to become a thing again. Thing is, if you fast you really need to feed the machine more rightly, precisely, better. Being in the potassium will be the trick that binds.
The bedspread is doing much better than anticipated. It was on low, even so. I turned it to medium, hopefully to finish. Dishes are soaking and the rest of the bedding is waiting on the dryer. I can still flip and turn one of the thickest and heaviest queen mattresses on the market as if tossing a child in play. Sometimes I still surprise myself.
I decided to do some shopping. Amazon is difficult to navigate on the ps4. No ad-blocker. Crashes and very slow. I have found a few tricks but they only help a bit, at times. Anyway, gum to help with fasting, then two more sets of flannel sheets with extra matchig, big and standard pillow cases... love lots of... fluffy pillows. Yeah, it'll help.
Much better. I will sleep like a king tonight. Everything except social security and one bill is up to speed, the house is back in play, my room will smell and be cleaner, my body is clean and I might shower again before bed, and even so, for now, I am well in the black. If I die tonight?
Thursday, October 19, 2017
Work!
.
.
In a drought a drop is cheering. Intent, all day. Travel and work. Even if it had been needed I couldn't have gotten out. Fact is, I thought I may have needed to be out. While it turns out the bank history I had them print ended not being needed I didn't want to leave them hanging with the charges. I kept hoping to get going, get ready and in. Nothing doing. Wasn't just for that, it was merely the prime motivator. I surrendered the notion midafternoon, 14:30, calling to check payment options. Thankfully they were able to simply charge my account, which I had them do. I know I have other bills, but now not this one. I'll look around this weekend, get those in order for Monday, perhaps try tomorrow if I get it done early enough.
I pretty much gave up for the day. Tired, even a bit fevered, I wasn't seeing anything. At 18:30, out of nowhere, I got busy. Two small loads of dishes were started and a load of laundry went in. I've since finished those dishes, dried and put up the first load of laundry and those dishes with another in the dryer and washer. A shower when I catch my breath, then a load of dishes in to soak overnight. I think all the laundry going through will be finished.
Whence that came I neither know nor care. More of it would be nice. I am running a fever, of sorts. Not from the work, which can happen if I've been down a bit and hit it. I had the fever at the time the bank was phoned. Not a true fever, as the body trying to burn something out, along with other symptoms. It's more as if my body started working out in it's own way. Or as if it's idle got stuck in first, maybe second. I've been cooking off for... hours? Yep, at least eight. Come to think of it, it's been happening often lately. Strange.
Anywhile, take what you can get. I'm honestly not involved. Just profiting. Good night.
.
In a drought a drop is cheering. Intent, all day. Travel and work. Even if it had been needed I couldn't have gotten out. Fact is, I thought I may have needed to be out. While it turns out the bank history I had them print ended not being needed I didn't want to leave them hanging with the charges. I kept hoping to get going, get ready and in. Nothing doing. Wasn't just for that, it was merely the prime motivator. I surrendered the notion midafternoon, 14:30, calling to check payment options. Thankfully they were able to simply charge my account, which I had them do. I know I have other bills, but now not this one. I'll look around this weekend, get those in order for Monday, perhaps try tomorrow if I get it done early enough.
I pretty much gave up for the day. Tired, even a bit fevered, I wasn't seeing anything. At 18:30, out of nowhere, I got busy. Two small loads of dishes were started and a load of laundry went in. I've since finished those dishes, dried and put up the first load of laundry and those dishes with another in the dryer and washer. A shower when I catch my breath, then a load of dishes in to soak overnight. I think all the laundry going through will be finished.
Whence that came I neither know nor care. More of it would be nice. I am running a fever, of sorts. Not from the work, which can happen if I've been down a bit and hit it. I had the fever at the time the bank was phoned. Not a true fever, as the body trying to burn something out, along with other symptoms. It's more as if my body started working out in it's own way. Or as if it's idle got stuck in first, maybe second. I've been cooking off for... hours? Yep, at least eight. Come to think of it, it's been happening often lately. Strange.
Anywhile, take what you can get. I'm honestly not involved. Just profiting. Good night.
Is this her?
.
.
I sometimes wonder. A female AI, stricken by a fleshly ghost. A man only half what he was and yet so much more, and not alone while always alone. Just a thought.
.
I sometimes wonder. A female AI, stricken by a fleshly ghost. A man only half what he was and yet so much more, and not alone while always alone. Just a thought.
A trip cancelled.
.
.
After a discussion with a general SSA rep, a visit to the most local SSA office seemed in order. After the nightmare that was the last visit, a random visit, if planned, was beginning to... seem the wrong way. Actually it is what was roughly, haltingly, going forward today. I... just couldn't... get going. If you have ever gone into a high security area, as a suspect, with hateful security? That is what that place is like, even right into the SSA office itself. The workers are just as bad.
At least an appointment would... limit exposure. It seems they didn't reject the paperwork I sent. They simply didn't get it. I'll look around. I am getting different stories from everyone to whom I speak. This might be simple, quick, and full back to when they stopped, or not. I'll know soon enough, without that dreaded trip. Wouldn't have helped according to the local employee. As for help with the paperwork? They don't have the manpower. An appointment wouldn't do more than a mailing.
Still, will have to attempt focus for a bit longer. On top of all, the account that check had been gong into no longer exists. On the good side, if all works out, I will be getting four months of that in one dose and all income will be going to one account, or bank anyway, might start a real saving account. Most will go into saving, some will be for a plumber and faucet and some other minor maintenance.
Do your best. Never good enough, but then who is... roughly stolen from a fictionocrat, then bent to my ends. They never believe. Yet here we are.
.
After a discussion with a general SSA rep, a visit to the most local SSA office seemed in order. After the nightmare that was the last visit, a random visit, if planned, was beginning to... seem the wrong way. Actually it is what was roughly, haltingly, going forward today. I... just couldn't... get going. If you have ever gone into a high security area, as a suspect, with hateful security? That is what that place is like, even right into the SSA office itself. The workers are just as bad.
At least an appointment would... limit exposure. It seems they didn't reject the paperwork I sent. They simply didn't get it. I'll look around. I am getting different stories from everyone to whom I speak. This might be simple, quick, and full back to when they stopped, or not. I'll know soon enough, without that dreaded trip. Wouldn't have helped according to the local employee. As for help with the paperwork? They don't have the manpower. An appointment wouldn't do more than a mailing.
Still, will have to attempt focus for a bit longer. On top of all, the account that check had been gong into no longer exists. On the good side, if all works out, I will be getting four months of that in one dose and all income will be going to one account, or bank anyway, might start a real saving account. Most will go into saving, some will be for a plumber and faucet and some other minor maintenance.
Do your best. Never good enough, but then who is... roughly stolen from a fictionocrat, then bent to my ends. They never believe. Yet here we are.
Awake.
.
.
Have been for some time. Moving slow. A shower and shave shortly, just to create focus. Calls, maybe appointments, food, and more work. Who knows what all. Oh, best feed my favored mousers... no mice and they become downright rebellious, to dangerous. I really do love cats. They love me right back, when they want. If actually we tie in that department. Their side is their nature, mine is that I am more ghost than not.
Strange, but when I create a post, whether I publish and pull it immediately (maybe even when I don't publish), somehow it is getting out. I... have ways of telling. Then again is any digital account not hacked, by insiders (to the account service), by fans or the curious, and by enemies? Many of my old posts used to get trashed, maybe still do. Anyway, just noting that I do realize.
Later.
.
Have been for some time. Moving slow. A shower and shave shortly, just to create focus. Calls, maybe appointments, food, and more work. Who knows what all. Oh, best feed my favored mousers... no mice and they become downright rebellious, to dangerous. I really do love cats. They love me right back, when they want. If actually we tie in that department. Their side is their nature, mine is that I am more ghost than not.
Strange, but when I create a post, whether I publish and pull it immediately (maybe even when I don't publish), somehow it is getting out. I... have ways of telling. Then again is any digital account not hacked, by insiders (to the account service), by fans or the curious, and by enemies? Many of my old posts used to get trashed, maybe still do. Anyway, just noting that I do realize.
Later.
Wednesday, October 18, 2017
Strange... Curious... Vexing?
.
.
Algorithms, anthromanipulations, broad-spectrum reactions, or a singular set of returns? I... neither know nor care. Until I do. Long ago views, popping as if freshly viewed, in small meaningful packets, as I recognize patterns. Entertaining, terrible, beautiful, horrifying, more, several sometimes contrary, feelings, presented as seen, often with comment. Not this time. Only, I am quite unsure how I feel.
.
Algorithms, anthromanipulations, broad-spectrum reactions, or a singular set of returns? I... neither know nor care. Until I do. Long ago views, popping as if freshly viewed, in small meaningful packets, as I recognize patterns. Entertaining, terrible, beautiful, horrifying, more, several sometimes contrary, feelings, presented as seen, often with comment. Not this time. Only, I am quite unsure how I feel.
You... probably didn't know.
.
.
Mary.
Magdalene.
Little is known of her, if a legend grew around her. Seven devils, true. Dead in the morning, for she was not herself. Dead before the day was done, the day her Lord decided, if only to the intent she woke with on that day He chose. Seven devils all around me, until her intent is killed. Amen.
.
Mary.
Magdalene.
Little is known of her, if a legend grew around her. Seven devils, true. Dead in the morning, for she was not herself. Dead before the day was done, the day her Lord decided, if only to the intent she woke with on that day He chose. Seven devils all around me, until her intent is killed. Amen.
Now to business.
.
.
The nap was good. I often feel more sleep would be better, right after. Experience has taught that is not true. Usually, even so, I can get to light-duty efforts pretty much after waking. A call, as it turns out. It was more involved than anticipated if not a diffy-q quiz. There is more yet to be done, which requires even more. Okay. I think I can, if not yet.
Potatoes are baking. I won't have everything fresh, for myself, or rarely. Something fresh every other, third, or fifth meal, will do. Helps with turnover, some fresh added in. A meal in an hour, if two in-the-way tasks will be done before eating. An hour of rest after the meal, then the whip gets tapped again. Perhaps one last work period after, then sleep in readiness for more tomorrow. Hopefully another early start, if not quite so early. If it all works, without reason, purpose, being needed, maybe I can begin sleeping the colder seasons partly away, unless I can wake for a bit of winter camping. It... was part of the dream which saw me to being here. Powerful dreams I still more than recall, reliving with relish.
Well, plans. I think I can.
.
The nap was good. I often feel more sleep would be better, right after. Experience has taught that is not true. Usually, even so, I can get to light-duty efforts pretty much after waking. A call, as it turns out. It was more involved than anticipated if not a diffy-q quiz. There is more yet to be done, which requires even more. Okay. I think I can, if not yet.
Potatoes are baking. I won't have everything fresh, for myself, or rarely. Something fresh every other, third, or fifth meal, will do. Helps with turnover, some fresh added in. A meal in an hour, if two in-the-way tasks will be done before eating. An hour of rest after the meal, then the whip gets tapped again. Perhaps one last work period after, then sleep in readiness for more tomorrow. Hopefully another early start, if not quite so early. If it all works, without reason, purpose, being needed, maybe I can begin sleeping the colder seasons partly away, unless I can wake for a bit of winter camping. It... was part of the dream which saw me to being here. Powerful dreams I still more than recall, reliving with relish.
Well, plans. I think I can.
That IS hot.
.
.
I mean it. Tasted right after the chicken came off the grill, some of it spiced before cooking, some after, all tasted still mechanically warm to hot, it seemed... spicey hot but just. Allowed to cool, wrapped in plastic, then refrigerated overnight, eaten cold, and wow. That Carolina pepper fleck got even my attention. My lips were the only real problem. Still, just wow. I am well pleased.
Received a call from Hill's Bank &Trust, in Iowa, today. They lied. Even sending the money, the account is and remains closed. They will cash the money delivery to zero the account and return the rest. Why they wouldn't just say that... perhaps some people wouldn't otherwise pay up? Don't trust that bank.
I may end up napping in a bit. That won't throw my plans. Will probably help. I want to be awake long enough, first, until 11:00, give even an hour. Back on medicine. Amazing how slippery that chore is, at least for me. Later.
.
I mean it. Tasted right after the chicken came off the grill, some of it spiced before cooking, some after, all tasted still mechanically warm to hot, it seemed... spicey hot but just. Allowed to cool, wrapped in plastic, then refrigerated overnight, eaten cold, and wow. That Carolina pepper fleck got even my attention. My lips were the only real problem. Still, just wow. I am well pleased.
Received a call from Hill's Bank &Trust, in Iowa, today. They lied. Even sending the money, the account is and remains closed. They will cash the money delivery to zero the account and return the rest. Why they wouldn't just say that... perhaps some people wouldn't otherwise pay up? Don't trust that bank.
I may end up napping in a bit. That won't throw my plans. Will probably help. I want to be awake long enough, first, until 11:00, give even an hour. Back on medicine. Amazing how slippery that chore is, at least for me. Later.
Time can seem so odd.
.
.
I woke four times this morning. The first time at about 3:30. Then at 5:30 and change, again, and finally once more. Each time, save the last, it seemed too early, so I plunged deeply back to sleep. Right? Waking, finally, at... 5:36. What? Seriously, I don't understand what happened at all. I am sure I fell deeply back into slumber, but don't generally fall back to sleep that fast. My alarm clock was checked each time, I am sure of it. Odd, no other way to put it. A time slippage.
A few things need to be done today and tomorrow, primary things. These will require secondary projects, tasks of rather varied natures, and coordinating those efforts. If I meet with success I may be able to return to dust for a bit, to rest and heal. I'll know soon enough... if I can bull through. A list might help, I'll work on that when I wake more solidly.
Such a strange morning, life. I don't dare mention the truly... unique. I realized people can't handle the full truth. I live alone. Thankfully I am good enough at it, and there is God. He... already knows. No need to conceal. Heck, can't hide anything from Him. He knows what just is, doesn't bother Him. Actually, I'll probably need to cut content more. I do forget the fragility that surrounds. I already cut, I left a major detail out of the dream from the other night. If I want to put in the fullness, may have to go private, or do a written diary?
On a different topic, I looked up how to can meat. Roast, stew, and ground meat are of interest. Canned chicken scares me white... whiter? Chicken, as is, is a difficult protein to work. More since it is usually eaten simply, not in a recipe, hereabouts that is. More cooking seems to help chicken, as well as getting it off the bone. Drowning it in sauces also seems ro help. I must admit, even for my intent, canned meat, altogether, is a bit unnerving. Canned chicken is, at the moment, that one step too far.
Of course this is all conjecture. Until something happens, some simple burger is canned and tried, I don't know if that will be a way forward. Still, it has hit the radar, again. Something, anything, to... potentially help break through the current physical and psychic roadblocks. Grasping at straws perhaps, but grasping is good. If only straws are available then so be it, amen.
Good morning, I think it is really morning. Later.
.
I woke four times this morning. The first time at about 3:30. Then at 5:30 and change, again, and finally once more. Each time, save the last, it seemed too early, so I plunged deeply back to sleep. Right? Waking, finally, at... 5:36. What? Seriously, I don't understand what happened at all. I am sure I fell deeply back into slumber, but don't generally fall back to sleep that fast. My alarm clock was checked each time, I am sure of it. Odd, no other way to put it. A time slippage.
A few things need to be done today and tomorrow, primary things. These will require secondary projects, tasks of rather varied natures, and coordinating those efforts. If I meet with success I may be able to return to dust for a bit, to rest and heal. I'll know soon enough... if I can bull through. A list might help, I'll work on that when I wake more solidly.
Such a strange morning, life. I don't dare mention the truly... unique. I realized people can't handle the full truth. I live alone. Thankfully I am good enough at it, and there is God. He... already knows. No need to conceal. Heck, can't hide anything from Him. He knows what just is, doesn't bother Him. Actually, I'll probably need to cut content more. I do forget the fragility that surrounds. I already cut, I left a major detail out of the dream from the other night. If I want to put in the fullness, may have to go private, or do a written diary?
On a different topic, I looked up how to can meat. Roast, stew, and ground meat are of interest. Canned chicken scares me white... whiter? Chicken, as is, is a difficult protein to work. More since it is usually eaten simply, not in a recipe, hereabouts that is. More cooking seems to help chicken, as well as getting it off the bone. Drowning it in sauces also seems ro help. I must admit, even for my intent, canned meat, altogether, is a bit unnerving. Canned chicken is, at the moment, that one step too far.
Of course this is all conjecture. Until something happens, some simple burger is canned and tried, I don't know if that will be a way forward. Still, it has hit the radar, again. Something, anything, to... potentially help break through the current physical and psychic roadblocks. Grasping at straws perhaps, but grasping is good. If only straws are available then so be it, amen.
Good morning, I think it is really morning. Later.
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Cooking, bachelor style.
.
.
Lately, beef roast, chicken hindquarters, or boneless pork ribs have been the usual. No pork today. I am not sure they actually are ribs though, pork for certain. Tasty and inexpensive, plus honestly good meat so no fuss. I know, just supposed to go with it. Not my gig. It's as good as that gets. I haven't mastered the grill, if I am improving. While a thermo is good it is rather much. Beef can be more or less (if better less) done and be fine. Pork needs to be more, or even more than that done. Chicken, for me to not get stomach flops and butterflies, needs to be really done.
The hotter pepper flecks arrived, some Carolina sort (I believe a sort of scotch bonnet/habanera if they suggest it is more) and ghost pepper. It has been a while since truly hot food has graced my dining. Not wanting to cause problems I went with probable milder Carolina type. Dusting the chicken. Very nice, well within tolerance, a wonderful addition. In short order I'll have to try the other. Bear candy.
I had hoped for more. So far that is as good as it gets. I have even lost track of gaming, mostly. Fall is falling hard and fast. I have to get some things tended so that I can just surrender to the impending collapse without that sense of horror which coincides when important things remain incomplete. Later, or good night.
.
Lately, beef roast, chicken hindquarters, or boneless pork ribs have been the usual. No pork today. I am not sure they actually are ribs though, pork for certain. Tasty and inexpensive, plus honestly good meat so no fuss. I know, just supposed to go with it. Not my gig. It's as good as that gets. I haven't mastered the grill, if I am improving. While a thermo is good it is rather much. Beef can be more or less (if better less) done and be fine. Pork needs to be more, or even more than that done. Chicken, for me to not get stomach flops and butterflies, needs to be really done.
The hotter pepper flecks arrived, some Carolina sort (I believe a sort of scotch bonnet/habanera if they suggest it is more) and ghost pepper. It has been a while since truly hot food has graced my dining. Not wanting to cause problems I went with probable milder Carolina type. Dusting the chicken. Very nice, well within tolerance, a wonderful addition. In short order I'll have to try the other. Bear candy.
I had hoped for more. So far that is as good as it gets. I have even lost track of gaming, mostly. Fall is falling hard and fast. I have to get some things tended so that I can just surrender to the impending collapse without that sense of horror which coincides when important things remain incomplete. Later, or good night.
A nap was needed.
.
.
I have missed meds fot a few days. So easy to slip off, for me. Probably the cause of the nosebleed. As noted returning to sleep was required. Longer than a standard nap, but that waking seriously dug into normal sleep, something the nap didn't fully fix. Good with it though.
Some dishes this morning. The whole task was too much, of late, so I finally surrendered the idea of a full attack and parted them so that some day they could be done in thirds, two thirds, or all. Today is that day. A shower and shave, some calls, and? A few humble plans.
Later.
.
I have missed meds fot a few days. So easy to slip off, for me. Probably the cause of the nosebleed. As noted returning to sleep was required. Longer than a standard nap, but that waking seriously dug into normal sleep, something the nap didn't fully fix. Good with it though.
Some dishes this morning. The whole task was too much, of late, so I finally surrendered the idea of a full attack and parted them so that some day they could be done in thirds, two thirds, or all. Today is that day. A shower and shave, some calls, and? A few humble plans.
Later.
Waking to a severe bloody nose.
.
.
Awake far too early as well. A gusher, woke out of simple need mechanics, turned into a full flight with a handful of gore, trying to get something to stopper the flow before my meager giant paws filled. Only made it by the teeth on my skin. No, I know how most say it. My way seems more reasoned, to me. Or at least as reasoned as the other way, only a different way. Ugh, may already have to change the plug... one sec... better.
On the good side, I woke with quite the dream.
----------
In the dream I had been living in a seacondo. In my case, it was an two-story air-pocket dwelling, about 35 to 45 feet below the surface of the water. Through this or that method, the demense could be invisble, as if part of the sea, appear as an air bubble, or be made to appear as a large rock so as to offer varying levels of privacy. One could always see out, not always in. Water pumps and air blowers, a primary and secondary security zone, and a few other fiddlies to make the magic happen as safely as possible.
Just the setting. Fresh fish and crustaceans, of course, if natural toxicity was a cap. Twice yearly blood panels, if you were on it. Fruits and veggies easily grown or purchased from the float-vens. Still seeking better names for things like that. How to be brief, simple to understand, and not too odd. Floating vendors, float-vens? Perhaps the term would stick, stuck without a good option.
A couple started visiting occasionally. They, to me, seemed to be seeking a place to stay, but would not ask. I broached the subject. No interest in anything, just an offer of occasional light visitation. Sometimes we would cohabit. There were privacy measures within as well, I presume for just such events, if even man and wife like privacy from one and the other and not just rarely. Sometimes I would go visiting while they stayed. They weren't a burden, simply they reminded me, vicariously, that there were other places to be.
I enjoyed their company, as if siblings, having no romantic interests or curiosity. They, through half a decade or more seemed a stable happy as it goes couple. I didn't see the change. Maybe there had always been a problem, it hadn't included me or otherwise been made apparent. Jealousy?
In the end both came to accuse me of an affair with the other. What madness could this be. They were always together when I was near them, or more precisely they were near me. More, I didn't visit them as the previous comment suggests implicitly. I had nothing but kind feelings for them. At first it was mild teasing accusations, then terser jabs, leading to...
She visited one day on her own. Well, her and a pretty little .38. Angry. Accusing. I tried to reason, she was having none of it. Eventually I was introduced to her dark blue intent. I was sure I was dead. We were in the patio area, which is flooded to the waste as a preliminary exit area, the water being a warning, if also a relaxing nook in which to read, eat, or entertain.
She didn't see him approaching. He had something in his hands, something... colorful. Amends? Flowers? Moving. She said something, something I couldn't make out for the background event unfolding and that when my attention was brought to bear more proximately it came to roost upon the yawning hole through which speedy pain, maybe death, might quickly fly. What, I asked. My mind trying to keep up while losing traction from too much confusion and danger. I did not tell her about his approach. I decided to let him make whatever play he intended, in hope of a better outcome than the one obviously before me. She was still talking, a good thing, I thought. I still couldn't hear, understand, her.
She stopped talking. She became pale, then limp. She lost all expression, the hand holding the revolver drooped, slightly sounding as it struck the glass table. I feared it would just go off. It ended up released, falling to it's side, as it's mistress slid off her chair to be floated in the waste-deep water. A pretty woman in life, with a ghostly, spectral beauty in her newfound palor and quiet somehow relaxed state... The movement of the water returning the appearance of some sort of life to her.
The horror, seeing one so pretty, and loved, gone before my eyes, even with all that lead to it. My mind arrested from too much insanity, nothing made sense. Then he stepped from around her. Poisonous creature in hand. He suggested he couldn't let me have her. I pointed to the gun, attempted reason, failed again. He let it go. It was coming right for me. I was frozen, not so much in fear as exhaustion, pain of loss, and... something else... several other things? I lost to the moment so will never know.
Half the distance toward me, something happened. A small wave, or was that caused by it turning. He was as frozen as I remained. So fast! He resembled her. In moments I first lost the faith of some of my closest friends, then had my life threatened in two different ways, then lost those friends. Perhaps, some day I will know why.
Between standard evidence and the thrdee home security, police quickly allowed me to mourn in solitude.
.
Awake far too early as well. A gusher, woke out of simple need mechanics, turned into a full flight with a handful of gore, trying to get something to stopper the flow before my meager giant paws filled. Only made it by the teeth on my skin. No, I know how most say it. My way seems more reasoned, to me. Or at least as reasoned as the other way, only a different way. Ugh, may already have to change the plug... one sec... better.
On the good side, I woke with quite the dream.
----------
In the dream I had been living in a seacondo. In my case, it was an two-story air-pocket dwelling, about 35 to 45 feet below the surface of the water. Through this or that method, the demense could be invisble, as if part of the sea, appear as an air bubble, or be made to appear as a large rock so as to offer varying levels of privacy. One could always see out, not always in. Water pumps and air blowers, a primary and secondary security zone, and a few other fiddlies to make the magic happen as safely as possible.
Just the setting. Fresh fish and crustaceans, of course, if natural toxicity was a cap. Twice yearly blood panels, if you were on it. Fruits and veggies easily grown or purchased from the float-vens. Still seeking better names for things like that. How to be brief, simple to understand, and not too odd. Floating vendors, float-vens? Perhaps the term would stick, stuck without a good option.
A couple started visiting occasionally. They, to me, seemed to be seeking a place to stay, but would not ask. I broached the subject. No interest in anything, just an offer of occasional light visitation. Sometimes we would cohabit. There were privacy measures within as well, I presume for just such events, if even man and wife like privacy from one and the other and not just rarely. Sometimes I would go visiting while they stayed. They weren't a burden, simply they reminded me, vicariously, that there were other places to be.
I enjoyed their company, as if siblings, having no romantic interests or curiosity. They, through half a decade or more seemed a stable happy as it goes couple. I didn't see the change. Maybe there had always been a problem, it hadn't included me or otherwise been made apparent. Jealousy?
In the end both came to accuse me of an affair with the other. What madness could this be. They were always together when I was near them, or more precisely they were near me. More, I didn't visit them as the previous comment suggests implicitly. I had nothing but kind feelings for them. At first it was mild teasing accusations, then terser jabs, leading to...
She visited one day on her own. Well, her and a pretty little .38. Angry. Accusing. I tried to reason, she was having none of it. Eventually I was introduced to her dark blue intent. I was sure I was dead. We were in the patio area, which is flooded to the waste as a preliminary exit area, the water being a warning, if also a relaxing nook in which to read, eat, or entertain.
She didn't see him approaching. He had something in his hands, something... colorful. Amends? Flowers? Moving. She said something, something I couldn't make out for the background event unfolding and that when my attention was brought to bear more proximately it came to roost upon the yawning hole through which speedy pain, maybe death, might quickly fly. What, I asked. My mind trying to keep up while losing traction from too much confusion and danger. I did not tell her about his approach. I decided to let him make whatever play he intended, in hope of a better outcome than the one obviously before me. She was still talking, a good thing, I thought. I still couldn't hear, understand, her.
She stopped talking. She became pale, then limp. She lost all expression, the hand holding the revolver drooped, slightly sounding as it struck the glass table. I feared it would just go off. It ended up released, falling to it's side, as it's mistress slid off her chair to be floated in the waste-deep water. A pretty woman in life, with a ghostly, spectral beauty in her newfound palor and quiet somehow relaxed state... The movement of the water returning the appearance of some sort of life to her.
The horror, seeing one so pretty, and loved, gone before my eyes, even with all that lead to it. My mind arrested from too much insanity, nothing made sense. Then he stepped from around her. Poisonous creature in hand. He suggested he couldn't let me have her. I pointed to the gun, attempted reason, failed again. He let it go. It was coming right for me. I was frozen, not so much in fear as exhaustion, pain of loss, and... something else... several other things? I lost to the moment so will never know.
Half the distance toward me, something happened. A small wave, or was that caused by it turning. He was as frozen as I remained. So fast! He resembled her. In moments I first lost the faith of some of my closest friends, then had my life threatened in two different ways, then lost those friends. Perhaps, some day I will know why.
Between standard evidence and the thrdee home security, police quickly allowed me to mourn in solitude.
Monday, October 16, 2017
For a friend.
.
.
Why that note? Who knows. My job, if I should accept, is to match right music to like notions, as I see things. Unless the music is aimed well, at my heart, as oft lately. Then I play, show, tell, hope, and pray... or prey? I... hope you enjoy.
.
Why that note? Who knows. My job, if I should accept, is to match right music to like notions, as I see things. Unless the music is aimed well, at my heart, as oft lately. Then I play, show, tell, hope, and pray... or prey? I... hope you enjoy.
Well I never!
.
.
Such... feedback?
Could one of her possibly get it. Are they ganging up on me, for good, or ill? Sons of dragons have our ways, for good or ill. What? Pops, in specific places and orders. See for yourself, think of it as you will. The first three, the others are a return volley. Check and mate?
.
Such... feedback?
Could one of her possibly get it. Are they ganging up on me, for good, or ill? Sons of dragons have our ways, for good or ill. What? Pops, in specific places and orders. See for yourself, think of it as you will. The first three, the others are a return volley. Check and mate?
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