Story Time: She’s In The Shower

Something to cheer everyone up now, Dear Reader 😀 I know, I know, times are trying at present: what with the new Hack Death stalking the Armageddon landscape of political and financial turmoil, causing the Media to shit its collective shit for brains, and instilling an insatiable desire in the general populus to self-isolate within a mountain made of toilet rolls. Oh, the humanity. Think of the trees…

blah blah blah

*/lights up… Well, it’s mental, Clicky… /drags deeply… Leggy’s on to sumfin… /smoky sigh…*

… So, to cheer us all up, I persuaded my good buddy Cade, the Okie Text Us Devil, to let us publish his fantastic story from Underdog Anthology VIII: Transgenre Dreams…

Pearls before Swine

*Doesn’t have to be paper, Clicky. Kindles cheaper and quicker… /thinks… Bloody brilliant if you have to spend time at home, self isolating…*

… It’s an absolute belter 😀 We know you will enjoy ‘She’s In The Shower’… 😉

*******

She’s In The Shower

By Cade F.O.N Apollyon

Before I go, I thought I might pass along a few thoughts that I’ve had about timelines and those who travel them. My name is Arton Arin. I am a 43 tri-season old resident of Bollinger in the Southern Midlands of Eggland, and I’ve been told that I am preparing to pass of a diseize called Cancera Molingua.

Before you become too distressed at my predicament, know that I actually feel quite well as of this writing, and I would prefer that you hear the tale I have to tell before making too many judgments about how you should feel about me and my current Medicull outlook. I simply thought it best to relay to you a bit about who I am, when and where I come from, and maybe a bit about why I am writing this story.

To be completely forthright, I am bored. My diseize is very rare, but highly contagious. Therefore, I spend most of my days in total isolation, pacing the length and breadth of my isolated hopspittle tangle, thinking about days gone by. If there is a bright side, it is that after the first two weeks of infection, which I am told is usually spent in a comatoe, the remainder of whatever time is left is spent mostly symptom-free. Or so I am told. However, I am also told that I will once again, sometime in the near future, slip into a comatoes from which I will not wake. Typical.

One might think that someone in my current state may perhaps spend most of their time lamenting a future that will never come. Sorrows, woes, and oh no’s. All those glorious dreams of future endeavors, forever lost because of some new form of Cancera that has chosen to spring up in myself and a few other unfortunates. All of us scattered here and there, in and around a world that I do not know very well at all. But I find myself thinking about such things only when contemplating the thoughts of others and how they might view me. And what I mean to say there, with impunity to you who are reading this, is that I do not think about the future nor why I shall not be in it, unless I think about those who are actually there. Someone such as you.

You are there already…reading this…written by someone who might have been there, but is, alas, not. Cancera Molingua decided we should be apart. Or perhaps, decided it better that we meet in a different fashion. Were I not preparing to pass, I would not be writing this. Were I not already passed, you would not be reading it. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, whoever you are. But let us get back to my boredom and why I’ve decided to explore a bit further the topic of those who travel timelines differently than others.

As stated previously, I am quite bored. My waking hours are spent in the past. Spent recalling tales told to me in my youth by parents and grandparents, relatives and friends; a cross section of everything from absolute truth, to complete and total flabber. Some of the more strange and interesting tales were those told to me by my grandfather. My grandfather confided in me later that these tales were actually told to him by his grandfather, although my grandfather sometimes painted himself in the main role to make the storytelling more relatable. After all,” he explained, “these are strange tales of a time where both morta and godda alike intermingled with the firmament of the cosmos!” Grandfather liked to recall in a mighty voice. They were sometimes indeed difficult tales to understand. Difficult tales to follow.

Of course, in my grandfather’s grandfather’s time, the names were different as the language was different. These were the times before “The Great Buyout” when the last of the free lands were deeded. Before “The Final Four Closure” when all ownership tytulle changed hands, which intern caused “The Sudden Shift” of morta peepwholes moving to and from all corvers of the planets. Before “The Age Of The Tri-Season” where the cold and hot seasons came with some regularity, and our primary planet did not linger for unspecified times in rethrograde nor anterograde orbits. Before “The Great Shaming Of All Nations” when all language was changed, and all memory of what came before was changed forever.

I am only telling you this, because I just realized that some of my words may not mean the same to you as they do to me, as I have no idea who you are, nor when and where you will be reading this. Pity that I have no idea which words you may understand, and which words you may not. I suppose it’s just an unfortunate side-defect of time’s progression, and I suppose I’ll just have to do the best that I can.

***

My grandfather told tales of times and places before The Shifts. Of course, the peepwhole then too were different, but they are gone, whereas I am told that many of these places that he spoke of still exist in some forms in fashion. Old places with new names and new destinies in new times. Many places that I should have loved to see had I reached the required traveling age of 45 tri-seasons. Alas, I am told that I shall not.

I suppose in looking back now, the interesting thing to me is that the tales my grandfather told me seem now to have been an up-building. A gathering of wanders and their wonders. Strange events I once thought fiction, leading from a time of knowing, to a time of non-knowing. Only through my illness have I had the time to reflect on these tales and what they could potentially mean. By that, I mean that I can avoid reflecting on a future that never is, mine, by reflecting instead on a future that perhaps never was. Perhaps because of these events, a future without me in it, was somehow avoided? Perhaps I am here only because of The Shifts?

I have begun to believe that perhaps there is truth in these stories my grandfather told me. Perhaps there is a certain deliberate vibration of sorts through time, and only through time and only with our attention can we begin to understand the wisdom in this. Perhaps this vibration crafts the never was, the is not, and the never will be, into something…more tolerable? More palatable? A deliberate and direct intervention on the part of some unseen will who guides us to where we actually need be, as opposed to where we want or think we need be?

I apologize to you if I am straying off point. And I realize that I have not yet told to you any of my grandfather’s tales. But as I write this, I cannot help but feel some degree of sorrow for a certain place from one of grandfather’s stories I shall never see. A place that I have dreamed of seeing since I first heard the story of “The Lady In The Shower Ring”, and it all took place in a land of dry, in a small town ship that no longer exists, called Text Sass.

***

We in my time are allowed to know anything, but we are not allowed to know it until a certain age is attained. There is no reason given for this as no one is said to know how this process came to be nor why. But the general consenseus is that it is to maintain a balance of want and need within society in times of limited resources. The less we know, the less we want, and the less we want, the more that our needs will be both true and inline with their actual necessity. This reasoning makes sense to me as it does most others that I have spoken with on the subject. But until I became sick and eventually became to be housed at the hopspittle with my own private tangle, I had no real knowledge of what “a shower ring” really was, nor that they actually existed.

L’water is plentiful in my time. As far as I am aware, even those who live in lands of dry never attain a thirst that cannot be squenched. We are allowed to totally immerse ourselves in L’water for cleaning twice every season within the tri-season, and both M’water and N’waters can be used for cleaning and swashing. You cannot consume these waters because of a tiny unseen organism called Blass Ticks that are too numerous for our internals, but these waters are more than adequate for daily cleanings. The Blass Ticks are even said to be good for swashing and cleansing the hepadermis. However, in my grandfather’s stories, that his grandfather told him, he spoke of times before The Shifts when morta peepwholes had unlimited access to L’waters, and would sprinkle their bodies with it daily in an area of their residences called The Shower Ring.

My tangle here at the hopspittle has a shower ring. It is a tangle like where I now spend my days but much smaller; two long sides, two shorter sides. A small tangle, within a larger tangle, that is specifically for swashing and cleansing. Due to it’s shape, I admit I am confused as to why it is called “a shower ring”. Perhaps someday I will ask one of the Fizzicans who checks on me each weakly.

I can swash and cleanse as much as I like, but you do not totally immerse in the shower ring. In fact, you do not immerse at all. A’waters, which are a yellowish, orange/brown Medicull water with something called “munkee blod” in it, sprays from a pipe on the wall, and all I need do is stand in the shower ring to swash. The water droplets that fall from the pipe in the shower ring remind me of the stories of “The Time Of Many Reigns”. Before The Shifts, reigns fell from the skies without intervention from peepwholes. No one knows why, but reigns of L’water fell without prompting, at many and all times during the four seasons that were said to have existed prior to the times of the tri-season. To preserve the purity of processes, we are disallowed from standing in the reigns when those who reign over all pour their L’water freely from the skies. But this shower ring is what I imagine that must be like.

So many things seem to have conspired to land me in my own tangle with my own shower ring. And I am told that I will know that the time is close when I feel my toes start to become numb. What a strange concept to ponder…the feeling, of numbness. I fear I’ve gone too long on myself already, so pondering here the concept of what it is to feel nothing or how nothing feels, I shall save for perhaps another time.

I shall now tale you the tell I was told by my grandfather. The story of The Lady In The Shower Ring. The story of the lady with tool eggs, and four harms. The story, of She Vah and my grandfather’s grandfather in the shower ring.

***

My grandfather was not a holy man, neither was he good. But nor was he unholy, neither was he evil.

There was no good…there was no bad…only the conflict of the two was in him.

Empty, some might say. As empty as a nothing which had no end.

Yet all and any was at his beckoning and at his whim.

For the two mighty Ones held sway over him…The One, and The Other One.

The Other One was to The One, as The One was to The Other One.

Two Ones, which is, and are, the same One, from different times, who sought out my grandfather, in the same time, at the same time.

The time before The Times Of The Shifts.

Both of The Ones were sometimes hidden from him, and both sometimes seen, and brought with them their manys and alls to test him.

To both teach him and to remove his teachings…and learn my grandfather did.

To taunt him, confuse him, cause fear in him…and fear and become confused my grandfather did.

To break him…and break my grandfather they did…many times.

The Ones and their goddas versus the lone morta.

How and why you may wonder? Why did the goddas show up? Why did they show up in Text Sass? Why did they choose my grandfather? What could he as a morta possibly have to offer the goddas, and what purpose could he possibly serve?

My grandfather said he never knew why they chose him, except to say “well that fuckin’ figures.”

Breaking after breaking my grandfather withstood.

Each and every time, the Ones wagered whether this be his last…but my grandfather found his feet again each time. More resilient and more determined after every breaking. Determined to know…why him…why now.

My grandfather had nothing. That is not to say he had “nothing”, for he had many things in his life that he loved dear. But in the time of those times, and in the eyes of those in and of those times, he was considered to be a man who had nothing. Alone, in a tangle, without possession, old and broken, separated from those he loved, and he knew not why.

And it was at this time, that The Ones and their goddas arrived.

Arrived in all manners. Arrived in all forms imaginable, and in many forms unfathomable. Via any and every channel available them, they arrived. Sight, sound, smell, song, memory, knowing, and more. With all tools in the hands of the masters that created and crafted them, they arrived. Completely unannounced, they arrived.

My grandfather said of their arrival…“Pretty god damn unwelcome to be honest.”

I asked of my grandfather why he did not ask of them “why?”

He smiled at me and said, “It honestly made perfect sense at the time, and I also know now that they arrived just in time. I just…didn’t expect it, and certainly not in the way and ways that it happened. I had no idea what to do, nor how to do it. Cornered, I was.”

Emptiness, my grandfather told me, is a portal into the realm of the absurd. And to begin to understand the absurd and its absurdities, is to gain insight into the concept of love. Insight into the concept of love, provides us with a glimpse into the concept of hate. From there, the knowing of all knowing cascades in, out, and through, any and every emotion you can think of. Before long, you find yourself falling through nothing, into nothing, surrounded by everything, and somehow, you see all.

To fall forever is a completely absurd notion, my grandfather told me. Why would anything, ever need to exist, or ever even be contemplated as potentially needing to exist, which would cause one to fall forever. The answer that I arrived at from time to time, after much deliberation, was love. Neither One wanted me, but neither One could bring themselves to destroy me. This is the best I could arrive at, after countless years and tears of contemplation…was hope. I fall forever in hope. They allow me to fall forever, in their hoping. Hoping that I may someday, when needed, be what it is I need be. They about their business, and me about mine. Time for all of us, to arrive at the time we all need be at, when we need be there, as we need be. Ready, for whatever we need be ready for.

May as well busy myself having some fun doing something, while I fall forever doing nothing…

…heh, heh, heh.

I was his grandson, and you are mine, and let me assure you that humility was always on my grandfather’s mind. How to remain hidden. How to be wise. To temper a blade of his own fury that cuts without cutting, and vanquish any foe while the blade remains sheathed. Yet to stand, not bowed nor cowered, yet still in all humility, before the goddas and speak as one might speak…to a friend.

Knowing these are not my friends, but neither are they my enemies.

In fact, they don’t even know who I am.

My grandfather broke into singing a strange rhyming tune that was somehow neither poem nor song. Something that resembled a cadence that soldiers might sing in unison as they marched in order to keep their steps in time…

You know me not,

For I have no name.

I am no one,

No…one…you…know.

For I am null.

I am not.

I am knot,

I am naught,

I am not, knot, naught.

Speak as a friend. Not to flatter, nor to deceive, but to be receptive and to receive. To give my all. For these are truly my friends….and my enemies. All these things my grandfather told me.

I asked of my grandfather why he did not ask of them “Why? Why not ask of them what, and how?”

He again smiled at me and said, “I figured if they wanted me to know, they would have told me.”

Over many days called “years” in those times, they tested him.

He never knew when, nor where, for they tested him at their own whims according to plans of their own design.

The goddas cajoled, and my grandfather fell silent.

They prodded him in his dreams, and he was much troubled by them, but he carried on.

All manner of vile was suggested, and he scowled in disgust and wondered with contempt what possible purpose this knowledge could serve.

They poked and prodded at his pride, and he played along and came up with better insults for himself than they.

But then something happened that The Ones did not expect.

One of the younger goddas seems to have suggested a change in tactics. “Up the auntie” as they used to say in those times before The Shifts. Instead of attacking my grandfather with shame, or with hate, or with fear, or by promise of knowledge in hope of wisdom, they tried his own weapon against him…humor.

Many of the goddas, including The Ones, had sent many a vision to my grandfather. Some he understood, some not. But one thing he always told me that he always seemed to understand, was their humor. “They’re some funny motherfuckers,” he used to tell me.

One in particular, She Vah, was trickier and more likely to apply humor than most of the others. Someone that my grandfather said he felt he had a special kinship with, without really knowing why.

She Vah, was the godda who suggested using humor against my grandfather…especially in the shower ring.

Take his humor, that which he crafts so sweet…so sweet so as not to cut, and make it so he can do nothing but harm when he wields it. Replace the sweet with bitterness. Make that which should cause joy, cause instead hate, so that even the softest of his strokes, and the sweetest of his loving kisses, draws instead blood.

I only needed to take a piss, my grandfather told me. An average day, all day, in the same spot, pondering the same mysteries over and over, and I suddenly needed a piss. Understand that I am not complaining about pondering the same mysteries over and over. Pondering one mystery may provide insight into another. Neither mystery may in fact be solved, but it just may be enough information to make some progress in the right direction…keep us alive and pondering for a little while longer. Provide one more breath.

Not all answers are finalities, and not all finalities are final, my grandfather said. I just needed to piss, and I thought at the time that it would have been nice to have thirty seconds of peace and quiet to do so. That was not to be.

You have to try and understand, as best you can, that “seeing” does not always equate with external stimuli of some kind from our immediate surroundings. Sight, we tend to equate with those things that can be quantified and verified with secondary input. Such as, you may be able to see a chair, and you can also lick that same chair to verify that something is indeed there, and “yep, it tastes like I guess a chair should taste.” May I suggest at this time that touch may be a better secondary for many a practical reason.

There are many ways to interrupt many channels of energies flowing here and there. And since we ourselves are energy and energies, and we are in a system built of systems of energies, someone who knows what in the hell they are doing can manipulate each and every sensory input we have. They can do so from eons away in the future, they can do so from eons away in the past, and perhaps they can even do both at the same time when present circumstance dictates. And that is what I am all about…time. Hope provides time, and time provides hope. I hope, that I am not boring you, grandfather said to me, with a smile a gentle nudging elbow to my ribs for emphasis.

To “see” certain things at certain times, with no external sensory input of any kind, seems, unusual. Such as, rushing to the toilet because I’m about to piss my pants, only to make it to the toilet, and find that…I, am not alone. I see nothing, yet I sense…something.

I can only just hear my urine first sounding against the water in the toilet, as I suddenly become aware of a figure approaching me from behind. I do not flinch, I do not clinch. I continue what I am doing, and observe.

In my shower, a small figure…a woman. She has a golden outline, surrounded by complete black. Distant. Inside the distinct and sharp golden outline of her figure, again, complete black. A golden-framed woman, surrounded by total darkness that also permeates all of her being except the rigid golden outline of her frame. Hair that is somehow red, yet black as night with occasional flashes of an unusual white. Her golden outline, as she moves, shimmers occasionally with rainbow colors. These colors cycle between the base golden color, and every color imaginable.

She’s far away. Edging closer. Small steps. Raising her knees, slowly up high, high above her waist, pausing for a moment, then slowly down again. With each step, and also between steps, her arms, four of them, two on each side, move with purpose. Synchronized both with, and opposed to, the movement of her steps. All manner of shapes she makes with her arms as she approaches. Her arms cross, then unfold, her hands flat, then folded, then together, then apart. She is surrounded by complete darkness. My bladder is half-empty.

She’s tall. The more steps she takes forward from the blackness, the more her height increases. Stalking her prey, or so it would appear. Slowly, gracefully, thoughtfully, edging forward from the blackness that surrounds her, permeates her. Her skin flashes from black to a whiter and pink flesh tone, then back to black. She is no longer a she. Is she? Is she a…she? Is she…Shiva? Not the Shiva I’ve seen depicted here in this life. She is Shiva, isn’t she? Who the hell is she? Which one is she?

***

You know, I can see you,” I blurt out in my mind. Her advance does not cease, nor does she waiver in her pace.

I know you can see me,” she replies. “I just wanted to see how far you would let me advance before finally saying something.

She speaks to me in a tone of someone walking the edge of a razor suspended over a pit of spikes. Focused on many things, while doing many things, all while her own well-being appears to be hanging in the balance.

Is there a particular reason you maybe couldn’t have waited for me to finish taking a leak?

Yes. In fact, there is a particular reason. You and I both know that this is not what actually happened.

I was caught. Caught trying to stray. Straying from the truth, while in the company of truth.

“We both know that much of this in fact, did happen,” I said as I fumbled with the recounting of the experience.

“True,” she replied. “I appreciate your vigor. Just maybe perhaps, stick to the more pertinent and explainable, and stay away from any further exploration of the non-relateable.”

Wise she was, and wise she is.

***

And so, my grandfather said to me, it is time that I tell you what actually happened on that day. What happened in my bathroom. My bathroom was actually no bathroom at all, nor was it mine. My bathroom contained no bath…only a shower. A shower for washing the body, a toilet for the body’s eliminating functions, and a sink for small cleanings. The shower was simply a stall covered by a retractable plastic wall called a shower curtain. This curtain was suspended by a thing called a shower curtain rod, and the curtain was suspended from this rod by things called shower curtain rings.

I did not shower much in those days as the waters at that time harmed my skin. As such, this retractable shower curtain which enclosed the shower stall was almost always left open. Rarely was this curtain closed, and spiders used to build their webs in the folds of the shower curtain to catch prey. When I would use the toilet to relieve my bladder, my back would be to the shower stall, which means there was a rather large empty area behind me. This empty area is where on many an occasion, those from the unseen realms would appear to me. An area which I could not see when standing in front of the toilet, and an area from whence I should NOT be able to see them, but for some reason…I could see them.

All that I’ve told you up to now is true, but what actually happened share now I, with you…

***

You know, I can see you,” I blurt out in my mind. Her advance does not cease, nor does she waiver in her pace.

I know you can see me,” she replies. “I’m practicing my Yoga in the shower whilst you pee.

I immediately started to laugh so hard at the absurdity of her assertion, that I started pissing all over the toilet and on the floor. She was most decidedly, NOT, doing Yoga. I collected myself somewhat, and was able to regain the proper control and direction of my urine flow.

“It looks more to me like you were trying to sneak up on me while I was taking a leak, and you got caught.”

I had to fight back. I was standing here in the vulnerability of an act of a necessary bodily function, usually performed alone and in solitude, and now that embarrassment has been compounded by shame for urinating all over the outside of the toilet and on the floor.

“Tell me, Clay. What is winning?” she asked as she continued her rhythmic and exaggerated advance towards my back.

“Winning?” I questioned. “Winning? Or victory?”

She immediately froze at hearing my question; two of her arms above her head with hands folded, two of her arms extended at her shoulders with the palms of her hands up, one leg bent and raised high up to her chest so that her foot was well off the floor, the other leg straight with her foot firmly planted. A contest! A contest to see if she can remain standing on one foot for the length of time it takes me to finish pissing. ‘A pissing contest’…of sorts.

You know,” I began, “I’ve not cleaned that shower in some time. I’ve noticed you are barefoot. You could potentially get some kind of foot disease.

She smiled, but did not move nor waiver in any other way.

Also,” I continued, “I’m the one that showers in there, so a disease of some kind is almost certain.

She maintained her smile, her eyes glowed, but still she did not move nor waiver.

Um,” I was desperate, for I was almost finished peeing, “This may take a while. There’s a dollar store right up the street if you want to toddle off there and get you a pair of cheap flip-flops that can be used as shower shoes. Will only set you back a buck.

She dropped her elevated foot in defeat, and bent over in laughter.

“WINNER!!!” I thought to myself. Just in time too. The final drops of urine fell into the toilet, I gave the requisite squeeze and shake, then found the toilet paper roll so I could do an initial clean up of the urine from the toilet bowl and floor. I reached for the toilet paper roll. Between pulling off the first few sheets and looking at the floor in order to begin planning where to start cleaning first, I briefly acknowledged Shiva’s presence in my mind. When she came again into focus, I saw one of the most incredible things that I have ever seen.

Somehow, and to this day I have no idea how she did what she did, she was standing…on both feet…AND…one foot, all at the same time. And no, before you ask, she did not suddenly grow an extra leg. She simply, somehow, ‘revealed’ to me, that she was still standing on one foot, had never moved, and, was standing on two feet. There was no double-vision. Her form was as clear, crisp, and well defined as it has ever been…only two legs. And yet, somehow, she was managing to stand with both feet firmly planted, and stand on one foot with one leg raised. I saw no third nor fourth leg.

I immediately burst into an uproarious laughter as my mind was flooded with the possibilities and notions of how she was achieving this. Multiple-dimensions? Multiple-times? Multiple-positions? All somehow aggregated here and now to give the appearance that she was in one place at one time, when she was in fact in many? Whatever she was doing, and however she was doing it, this was no trick. There was nothing ‘gimmicky’ about it. All attempts on my part to solve this mystery almost immediately dissolved away as the reality of what I had just seen continued to sink in. I continued to laugh, bent down, and started to clean my misfired urine off of the floor.

Winner,” she said softly in a quasi-sultry and sassy voice.

What!?” I protested. “I’ve already won!

Winner, winner…chicken dinner,” she said, hands on her hips. She wiggled them slightly for some added zesty emphasis.

You can’t take my win from me can you? I’ve already won it.

I can take your win from you, and I have done so. In doing so, you have answered my question, and I have answered yours.

The difference between ‘winning’ and ‘victory’?

Correct.

Anything given, can be taken away.

Correct.

A nation may ‘win’ a war, yet still not be victorious.

That is an excellent point for pondering.

Wait a second here. You stated you won after I’d already won.

“Correct.”

Then, you implied you took my victory from me.”

“Correct.”

“That’s two wins in a single contest. You aren’t talking about winning nor victory at all are you?”

“Perhaps yes, and perhaps not.”

I continued to wipe urine from the floor as thoughtfully and completely as I could, and it occurred to me that most lessons from ‘else’ usually comes both indirectly, and, it is heavily layered. One can many times choose to peel back as many layers as they care to. Such as, an old man on his hands and knees wiping his own piss off of the bathroom floor because the god Shiva made him laugh while he was pissing, and now they are discussing the finer points of winning, victory, and perhaps even defeat. A light bulb illuminated in my dim little mind.

“You are wondering how I would describe what I just saw to another.”

“That thought has crossed my mind,” she replied thoughtfully. “How would you describe or recount to another what you just witnessed?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to begin to try.”

“And what about relating the story of what transpired here?”

“Again, I wouldn’t know where to begin, nor would I even have the slightest inkling as to who would even care to hear such a tale. It strains my own internal credibility, and I just walked through the shit-storm my own self.”

She smiled a large smile. She could see my mind working. I was reassured by her smile, but I could tell that she knew that I was already struggling with realities and pride and prejudices and envy and shame: all these concepts and more wrestling with my own self doubt. These things continued their stormy struggle as I tried to imagine who in the entirety of existence would ever even potentially want to hear such an unimaginable and outlandish story. She thankfully interrupted my thoughts warring with themselves.

“Perhaps you could start where you are now, then work your way backwards. Do that, and moving forward should come quite easily if you stay with it.”

And with that, she was gone.

I paused and thought for a moment.

Wise she was, and wise she is.

***

My grandfather, and your three times great grandfather was no soldier, Arton. He marched alone. Accompanied perhaps, of my own accounting anyway, by an army that no one but he could see. That, I tell you, was likely the reason for the odd little song that he sometimes sang to himself.

Death says to me…

Who are you?

I know you not.

I see no name,

No name I know.

I say to Death…

You know me not,

For I have no name.

I am no one,

No…one…you…know.

For I am null.

I am not.

I am knot,

I am naught,

I am not, knot, naught.

War was his passion; battle was his mind; combat was his love; but his heart, he prayed, beat a rhythm of peace seeking wisdom. As to what that made the entirety of his being? “I don’t really know what that makes me. I don’t know what that makes me on the whole. I mostly feel at peace.” This is what my grandfather told me.

“And that’s peace, not piss,” he told me. “People will bastardize the damndest of things to their own end. I’m myself admit I am guilty of the same. Take care with your judgments grandson of mine.”

I paid no heed to my grandfather’s talk of judgments.

My mind was already well elsewhere.

Too much data, nary enough answers.

My mind burning like a flame, I asked of my grandfather, “But you told me that you were all about time! You said that hope was time, and time was hope! What is all this talk of war and battle and peace grandfather?!”

Into his eyes I looked, and saw that they blazed with a something inside of him that I had never before seen in anyone, nor have I seen in anyone since. Not blazed as the hottest flame might, nor burned like the coldest cold might. There was no light, nor was there dark, but I suddenly saw a vast and endless emptiness inside of him that sent a shiver down my spine and threatened to suck the air straight out of my lungs. My heart pounded within my own chest in protest of the unseen and unwelcome requests of me. Grandfather sensed my fear and placed his hand lovingly on my shoulder. The growing fear bursting to escape the very fiber of my being fled almost as suddenly as it had appeared. But not for long would that fear be held at bay.

“Young one,” my grandfather started, “There is some serious shit headed your way, and you, are going to be right in the big middle of it.”

My ears…I could not believe them. I could not believe these words only just ushered from my grandfather’s lips. War? My way? Me? Why would war ever come to a child? Why me? What is this war that seeks me?

I looked away from my grandfather in consternation and to the ground to reassure my now galloping mind. I felt the fear and confusion welling and tumbling inside of me. Ebb and flow, it did…subsided, it did…grew, it did. A boisterous pulse advancing and retreating almost simultaneously. Tho looking downwards, I could still see my grandfather from the top of my eyes, and saw that he observed me as I thought. He sensed the war raging now inside me. War…inside me. War?

“You feel that?” grandfather interrupted unexpectedly. “That, is war. The confusion you are feeling now, is all part of the war eternal.”

My brow furrowed in disbelief. My hand I put to my belly as it began to burn. Searched the ground for answers I did as to what this could all mean. Find my feet, so swiftly knocked from under me, I must find my feet. My eyes scanned steady the browns and greens of the ground. Back and forth my head went, as I thought to myself that this cannot be so. There cannot be a war inside of my own self. No one have I to fight. I felt an anger rising in me, and I thought to tell my grandfather as much. But again grandfather was ahead of me by at least a step.

“And that, young man, which you are feeling now, is battle. Your confusion and uncertainty have been temporarily replaced by a measured response.”

At this, something within me…snapped.

“STOP IT!” I blurted, with tears of rage welling up in my eyes. “STOP IT RIGHT NOW!!!”

The face of my grandfather, which only a moment ago was as stoic and hard as stone, softened. Looked beyond his face and through my own now blurry and teared eyes, sought my grandfather’s eyes I did. I found them. The vast emptiness was gone from them, and they sparkled with the fires of countless stars.

“And that, my dear grandson, is combat.”

Huge tears formed in his eyes as he continued, and his voice cracked occasionally from the strain.

“Confusion, turned anger, turned rage, all to preserve self, in combat. But beware of the fury that follows rage my dear grandson. For fury can cut in many ways, at many times, from many angles. Once fury is grasped, there is no letting go.”

Tears were now streaming down his face. I sprang to my feet, dove towards my grandfather, and wrapped my arms tight around him. I hugged him like I had never hugged anyone before nor have hugged anyone since, and a stern, but gentle and comforting hug my grandfather returned.

Warmth.

An afterglow.

Light.

A path, only previously hidden, now lay before me. Know, I did not. Understood, I did. For now, I understood without knowing.

We find our own wars, Arton. We choose our own battles. And when we find these things, we fight our own fight in combat. But when we answer the call to join the wars of others, many, and perhaps all of these choices lose we.

And for added measure my boy, tell you now, oh grandson of mine, my dear boy, Arton…that if you ever tell your grandmother that I hugged my grandfather better than I ever hugged her…well, let’s just wait and see. We’ll cross that bridge when and if we get there. He winked at me and smiled, my grandfather did.

***

My great-great grandfather is said to have died shortly before the times of The Shifts began. I can only assume that whatever death it was that sought him, and he for a time somehow avoided, eventually found him. Perhaps much in the same way it appears that some death currently seeks to find me. And so now, to be completely honest and open with you, there was indeed something specific that prompted me into writing. Something that inspired me to attempt to relay this and these tales that I have now shared with you.

Three days ago, I encountered a woman in my shower ring whilst I swashed. It was only for the briefest of moments, and due to my current Medicull predicament, I admit that I had to question whether or not it actually happened. But what stuck with me, was the fact that this woman had both red and black hair. Much like the hair of this She Vah that my grandfather told of via his grandfather’s tale.

She said nothing to me, and she actually looked scared and confused. Perhaps, assuming she was actually here, she was just lost. Lost for the briefest of moments along some coiling or unwinding timeline, and unsure of where she was.

She wore no clothes, and she looked real enough. No extra arms, no darkness nor glowing, just a combination of very red and very black hair. Naked, and possibly wet, her arms were folded somewhat protectively to her chest, although I did not get the impression that this action was out of shame nor modesty. She looked back and forth a few times before she noticed me, and our eyes met only briefly before she quickly disappeared. There was no indication that she knew me, and I certainly did not know her. Except of course, for the distant connection to this She Vah story told to me by my grandfather.

By the by, both black and red colored hairs are contrary to social parity here in Eggland. I had always assumed that colored hair of these types were a myth. So rare for anyone to have hair at all in these times, let alone what appeared to be a full supply of multi-colored hair on both her top and bottom portions. She was, now that I think about it, quite beautiful. Or would have been had she not looked so scared and perhaps helpless.

The next day, I listed the event on my daily Medicull report even thought I am still quite unsure if the event actually happened or not. But I am told that I am indeed preparing to pass, so what harm could it possibly cause to report it?

And finally, a bit of good news.

This morning, I was informed that they would be starting me on a new medesign today. The doctors informed me that they thought today might be the day that my toes started to go numb, and they wanted to go ahead and get me started on this new medesign just to be safe. They tell me that there exists the potential that this new medesign could delay the onset of the final stage. It could, they say, perhaps even pathdose the diseize entirely. And the best part is, it can sometimes do all of this with just a single dose.

I am doing my best to contain and control my enthusiasms. To say calm, and carry on. But I cannot help but think a blessing of the goddas this must be. For if this is true, and this Cancera Molingua within me can indeed be pathdosed, I can be exonerated of my “payshunt” status, leave the hopspittal, and return to my own tangle. After time, I can apply to have my records expungented. Live to travel to Text Sass.

Odd this sudden development, as they’ve not previously mentioned this treatment. Perhaps it is something new. They did in fact mention a “new medesign”, but I neglected to inquire if the medesign was in fact new, or just new to me.

I took the first dose only a few moments ago, but I don’t think the medesign works. As I write this, I can suddenly feel my toes going numb. My arms are also feeling quite tired. Difficulty writing. My feet feel very heavy. Now having difficulty moving my legs.

I guess they didn’t catch it in time.

Typical.

encore

*As you wish, Clicky… /stubs butt…*

GLOSSARY OF TERMS

A’waters – a socially acceptable,non-potable, non-drinkable X’water, made of various herbs and spices plus a generous portion of munkee blod; designated for Medicull use only, only under Fizzican super-vision, and only for swashing.

Anterograde – a forgetting.

Billdinged – the aggregate result of independent expenditures.

Blass Ticks – a group of non-motile, microscopic organisms of indeterminate origin made up primarily non-organic materials. Blass Ticks tend to be suspended in varied quantities in X’waters, and it is thought that this is why the organism has not evolved the ability to move under it’s own power, lack of need. First described by Brau Flucher in 2076 CE/017 TS

Bollinger – a towned in the Southern Midlands of Eggland, which was founded on one of the axial focal points during The Battle Of The Bands that eventually led to The Great Shaming Of All Nations.

Cancera – a non-explainable combination of factors that results in either non-standard and/or less-than-standard cell growth(s).

Cancera Molingua – this particular/specific diseize is not known to actually exist. However there is some grainy reasoning within the term itself.

Comatoe – the low-power, quasi-hibernative state of a system or systems, marked by a generative lack of response to stimuli.

Consenseus – a gathering of similar bodies to form a contiguous and unique whole, without sacrificing a part’s individual traits or characteristics. A simultaneous subtractive addition and additive subtraction with a zero-sum.

Corver – 1. a convergence from the point or angle and perhaps time of disbursement. 2. a point in time that considers origins, destinations and forces from the eventual resultant point or points.

Diseize – a more or less standard deviation from a standard, usually capable of dictating and defining it’s own path if not identified in a timely manner by Medicull, and treated with medesign.

Eggland – hey, it’s Easter here in 2019 AD/CE. Lighten up. (Eggland is the exploitation of a convenient typographical error on the part of the author. It coulda been worse…it coulda been Endland.)

Expungent – a sharp increase or decrease in attractiveness, monitored and regulated by both the social and unsocial societal arms of the more-modern society.

Fizzicans – a socially trained and appointed representative of the Medicull arm of the more modern society.

Flabber – a particular something so beyond reason, logic, and even intuition, that it defies both rational thought and coherent description.

Forms In Fashion – the contextual mutative properties of an unchangeable tangible or intangible form.

Godda – a less-physical, independent entity, usually both less-biological in makeup and less-tangible.

Hepadermis – the outer layers that monitor and control the I/O flows independent of other such systems, and sometimes acts as it’s own medesign.

Hopspittle – a physical structure or billdinged constructed of various components where Fizzicans gather/meet. Also houses Payshunts.

I/O – the measure of an energy’s ability/inability to, 1. penetrate a membrane, 2. resist a membrane’s advance, 3. not interact with a membrane at all.

Intern – a seriatim or sequential ordering of things/events.

Internals – the innermost parts of an outermost whole.

L’water – a socially acceptable, potable, drinkable water.

Large Town Ship – a usually very large region of land containing a number of small town ships. Usually accurately representative, as a whole, of the small town ships it encompasses.

M’water – a socially acceptable, sub-potable water that is not suitable for drinking, but is suitable for regular swashing.

Medesign – an agent crafted to dictate a specific path of travel under certain conditions.

Medicull – the organized societal infrastructure of Hopspittles and Fizzicans.

Morta – a more-physical, independent entity, usually both biological in makeup and more tangible.

Munkee Blod – a special liquid healing agent of dark carmine, that is brewed with Minimum of Mermaid Brothers, and also contains Expedience of The Messenger.

N’water – a socially acceptable, less than sub-potable water that is in no way suitable for drinking, and is suitable for occasional use in swashing.

Pathdosed – a resummation of right and proper, typically as a result of an intervention by the Medicull, and usually via the application of a medesign or medesigns; a reclamation.

Payshunt – a negative impactor on the Medicull.

Peepwholes – 1. a biological, non-biological or less-biological system that is complete enough so as to be capable of sensing both specific and non-specific information and data, and also provide throughput to adequately and accurately transmit or otherwise relay this information in total to a 3rd party or some other intermediary; these biological and non-biological systems may be made up of organic matter, inorganic matter, or sometimes a combination of both. 2. a morta.

Reign – 1. the power to create and freely distribute L’water from the nothingness and the nowhere. 2. a societal structure made manifest through destiny in order to monitor and regulate side-defects.

Rethrograde – a remembering.

Side-defect – an entropic vulnerability, usually expressed in the flanks or perimeter of an otherwise closed system; unforeseen manifestation of change, chaos or collapse in the outermost portions of a centralized body.

Small Town Ship – a large region of land containing a diversity of mostly small settlements of societal structures, usually with their own independent beliefs and ruling structures.

Southern Midlands – a region in the northern part of Eastern Eggland.

Squench – the exsanguination or draining of a desire to consume.

Swash – a vigorous utilisation of available resources, appropriately applied for a particular cleansing process.

Tangle – a living space approved for a citizen or citizens to occupy, which is constructed in the form and flow of nature’s perfect geometric shape; two longer sides of equal length, and two shorter sides of unequal lengths, resulting in three right angles and one tribute angle.

Text Sass – a former small town ship in the former large town ship known as Nam.

Towned – a cyclically tytulled settlement where ownership is randomly transferred from citizen to citizen so as to equally distribute the burdens of ownership.

Tri-season – time period within the current age which has only three seasons, each of which are of indeterminate length(s).

Tytulle – an opening within the societal fabric that provides for the private ownership own one’s own self, control of one’s own destiny and movements, as well as the private ownership of one’s own possessions.

Up-building – a construction effort resulting in an increase in mass, density, volume, inertia or interest.

Weakly – a meeting or touch based on a need or needs, usually under duress, objection or protest; an unpleasant task or undertaking; deed or encounter of the shortest possible duration and/or met with a minimum of effort.

X’water – a societally approved method of measuring water quality and safety. Defined primarily upon usage and sometimes need.

Up The Auntie – no aunts were harmed in the writing of this story ❤

*******

Stay well, Dear Reader, and have a Song… ❤

Missive From ‘Merica: The Limey and the Coco Pops

Coco Poppy

*Thank fuck, Poppy tweeted that to us last night, Clicky… /lights up… Or I’d have been completely bolloxed for a post title… /drags…*

Last night, Cade FON Apollyon, a.k.a. The Unseen Synchro, a.k.a The Okie Devil of Text Us asked me and Poppy Sweet Pea to provide him with some words, from which he would write a poem…

Said poem is contained within Cade’s latest missive, below…

tumblr_ok39psvabm1snme67o4_400

*That’s right, Clicky… /blows smoke ring… down there…*

Dear Reader… Enjoy! ❤

*******

Someone might enjoy this.
^Iron Maiden – Behind The Beast^

I once wrote a certain poem,

but can’t recall what it said.

So now here it sits aching,

bouncing round in my head.

Wrote some parts down, that had a certain sound.

Certain parts rhymed, other parts timed.

One part climbed,

another piece descended.

Don’t recall where it all started,

nor even if anything ended.

There must be a way in, to the place to begin.

First…to find out how, my way out of…now.

Some thoughts run free and freely,

others disappear in a stare.

Some are likely gone forever,

a few are written down somewhere.

Take out the trash, Danish mash.

Write it down, or face the frown.

There’s one part I tried to remember,

but cannot recall the details.

Likely a something of beauty,

perhaps bunny rabbits, wasps, or snails.

Formulaic attributes, proxy gaps and substitutes.

Removed this line, I’m sure it was fine.

Does she really exist out there,

or am I being silly…a dupe.

Like some sort of prize or plunder,

a cold journey that ends with hot soup.

You’ll be there, when you are there.

You were there, you aren’t there.

This end of that one here now,

the end of this one a time later.

I’ve forgotten what this one was about,

perhaps I’ll remember it…

^The Bloody Beetroots – Detroit (Ghetto Edit)^

What a bunch of fucking weirdos.
^1977 TV Synthesizer Special^
If you thought that shit was weird, check THIS shit out.
^1969 World’s First Electronic Pop Song^

All of the people in the above two vids are either all:

A) dead from disease, or

B) all strung out on drugs while waiting to be dead from disease.

I read a lot of facts and figures, and those facts and figures are very clear…everyone is either dead, or about to be. Seriously. You are either dead, or about to be, and you are either on drugs, or about to be.

Lots of information and facts and figures floating around that prove this to be correct. A lot of these political Tweets are fucking weird. The ones that are always tell people to stand up? What does that even mean, other than you telling me I’m already down. Not only are you telling me I’m already down…you are telling me I need to get up off my lazy ass and do something for you, because you said so.

How do you get everyone aboard the same train?

What’s that? You don’t want everyone on the same train?

I thought you wanted to be first.

If you want to be first, that means you need everyone on the same train.

^Best soviet electronic music^

Are animals incompetent?
^Kraftwerk – Roboter 1978^

I was out front letting my youngest son’s dog get some fresh air. It’s 57°F/13°C, the sun is shining, and is generally awesome. But she refused to come back in, so I had to chase her around the front yard a bit. When I finally got her to come back towards the door so I could let her in, I reached up to open the door, and noticed there was a critter on my foot. I brought my foot up, then gently blew the winged critter off my foot, and they landed on the concrete porch.

I let the dog in, then began to retreat inwards myself, when I noticed that the ant – yes, it was a winged ant – was still sitting in the same place/had not flown off. I suddenly became worried, as the ant was sitting right in the big, fucking middle of the porch. Were anyone else to come in or out through the door, they won’t know the ant is sitting there, and would likely step on the ant. So the question becomes…

Q: What do I do?

A: Whatever I do.

I tried to give the ant a shade of encouragement to move by bending down and blowing on it, but it sensed the sudden increase in hurricane force winds, and hung on for dear life to the concrete of the porch. I wonder if there is a something to be learned there about methods we employ to get others to do what we want?

^Junkie XL — Crusher.. High quality.^

I think this is the last whatever that I’m going to write in MS WordPad. Yep…even tho I downloaded and installed OpenOffice over a month ago, I’m still using MS WordPad to write these things. WordPad really doesn’t offer much in the way of formatting: there’s no spellcheck, no fancy editing tools, and it takes me a level of two of washing this shit before I actually send it over to Roob for her to do whatever she does with it.

But I think I’m starting to feel a shade better about my formatting peccadilloes, and how better to use them to mold what I am trying to say, as I am saying it. My reason for doing this is quite simple, and that is so that I don’t go back and read something that I’m going to regret having written, and not have spent more time or formatting and editing. I mean, in life, when we say things, we don’t get second chances. You gotta say the right thing, at the right time, and you’ve got to say it right the first time, and every time, forever amen.

Practice makes perfect.

Repetition, repetition, repetition.

Practice makes perfect.

Repetition, repetition, repetition.

Practice repetition makes repetition perfect repetition.
^Morrissey – Break up the Family^

I just saw a pretty cool Tweet, that was cool, because it had leaves in it. There was a really cool star made out of sticks and twine, and I had some thoughts on that too, but what really interested me was the leaves. Dunno bout choo, but I love picking up leaves and looking at them. Well, leaves that have fallen. Leaves on the tree are best observed where they are, but I’ve been known to pick them.

Anyway, I love to look at leaves, check out the patterns, think about how they developed and why, make crazy assumptions about how these patterns suit needs in many ways, etc., etc.. But with respect to the leaves in this particular picture, what I got to thinking about was…

“how in the FUCK do those leaves look so nice?”

I can’t get a super close look at the leaves, but they certainly aren’t crushed…so how in the fuck did someone go out and collect a bunch of leaves without crushing them? OR…is that part of the ritual? Just…go out and grab a fuckton of leaves, cram em’ all into a bag, then sort the shit when you get home. Crushed ones here, uncrushed ones there.

Le YIKES!!! Sounds like a metaphor for pre-dating and post-dating romantic encounters.

^World On Fire (Junkie XL Club Mix)^

Not that you particularly care, but where my mind was buzzing around today was/is medicine.

Q: Is medical infrastructure medicine?

A: ?¿?

The only way to get everyone on board, is to cover all needs, up to and including, not needing at all. Giving your share away, because you don’t need it, but someone else does, and if they don’t now, they will later.

I wonder who that someone might be? 

Anyway, there’s been a lot of things I’ve seen lately, that would appear to have nothing at all to do with medicine/standardized medicine, but they do. Lemme see if I can find some, that way we’ve got an audit trail, and proof, and other cool shit like that.

^Infusion — Legacy (Junkie XL Remix)^

Here’s an example…

Refusal of need(s) means that the relationship is over…right? If you don’t get what you need, when you need it, DIVORCE!!!

Everything must remain the same forever, or face elimination. It’s the only way. Can’t discern and discriminate until everything is the same, which allows us to discover our differences, and eliminate them.

OK, I’ll stop trying to be clever in my digging, and put it like this: If I’m married, and looking forward to sex with my wife tonight, but that afternoon she gets hit by a car and winds up in the hospital, can I still fuck her in the hospital bed?

I mean, assuming that she still wants to fuck. Or do I need to take a rain-check? Does she need to take a rain-check? What if she is insistent that I fuck her, because she fears it may be the last chance we get to do so? Or is the hospital going to have an opinion too? Is that an additional price of medical care? Do it my way, or else?

^Savages – You’re My Chocolate^

Here’s another one…

What could some “missile alert” have to do with medical care? Welp…if a war starts, a shitload of people are going to need a fuckton of band-aids.

Who is gonna make them?

Where are they getting their supplies?

Who is going to ship them?

Who is going to apply them?

And on, and on, and on...

Supposedly, our President said something recently about “the button” now being his own personal property. Dunno how that transfer of ownership happened, but that’s what I personally took away from the “my button is bigger than his” bit, or whatever it was.

And another...

And another...

And another...

As best I can tell, all of these things hover around continuance, and weave in and out of all kinds of other applications. Dunno bout you, but to me, that says someone is doing some weaving. Who? Does that matter? Do you care that you have a blanket when you need it, or is who made it important? We want everything to stay the same, and the only way to accomplish that, is change and changes.

Makes sense.
^Le Couleur – Femme^

/begin poem

The bells…they hang silent, and scream.

But no one listens to them anymore.

/end poem

^Sub Focus – X-Ray (Metrik Remix)^

When I start seeing the same Tweets over and over, coming from different people, does that mean that I have enough friends that I can dump one in favor of the other? I mean, who needs two friends that are damn near identical? Dump one, keep the other. They both regurgitate the same bullshit, so no big loss if I lose one. Losing weight is always popular.

^Jonathan Bree – You’re So Cool^

I’m not implying that “standardized medicine” is going to start producing standardized people, but it might contribute to the production of standardized people. I guess it all depends on how we look at things, and what we want to get out of them. Things are only worth a flying fuck, when and if they put out. If they don’t? Fuck ’em.

^boy pablo – Everytime^

I had to bring the trash in. I took it out this morning, but someone forgot that today is MLK‘s birthday, so I had to bring it back in. If it sits out in the alley for the next 3 days, it’ll get torn to shreds by stray dogs, cats, squirrels, opossums, skunks, and God knows what else.

Plus, yet again, the temperature has been dropping all day, and it’s supposedly supposed to snow @ 20:00/8:00 pm tonight. It’s currently 48°F/10°C, so we’ve got a ways to go if it’s going to snow. My “news” came via Whatshername, so I just went to check the weather, and I saw nothing about snow, and it’s not supposed to get cold till tomorrow. That said, it has gotten cloudy as fuck outside, and the wind is blowing pretty good.

Definitely feels like change is changing.
^Detlef – JayDee^

/begin end

Here is where we ended this rhyme…upon this fancy dish.

The method could take some time…to feast upon this fish.

I’ll bang upon this wordy chime…something simple but cute.

Silence is the realm of the mime…so says the mute.

Something made of wheat…something filled with slime.

Cooked lovingly into a meat…and when eaten tastes sublime.

Climb upon this giving mound…climb to your summit I climb.

Howls in pain this foolish hound…my bonds downgraded to subprime.

/end end

I asked two different people for 8 words that rhymed, in 4 sets of 2 words each.

Below is what I got…

Person A: Fish – Dish, Wheat – Meat, Hound – Mound, Cute – Mute

Person B: chime, climb, rhyme, slime, time, mime, subprime, sublime

:/

There’s always a fucking smart ass 😉

Anyway, I used those 16 words, and created that nonsense above. Hence, where it ended, is actually where it began, but not really. Anyway, thanks to you ladies for playing along.

^Leftwing & Kody – What You Sayin^

It’s against my religion to ask others to assist me in any poetry writing efforts. And yet, for some reason, I asked for assistance. I guess I don’t like my religion anymore, and needed a way out. NOBODY leaves a religion on good terms…

...do they? 

Maybe that’s where a lot of this weirdness and confusion comes from. Do I really need to be in church every fucking time the doors are open? If a church closes down because I didn’t show up, maybe that church needed to close. We’ve got churches every-fucking-where here. These seminaries are pumping out clergy, year after year, and they’ve got to have somewhere to go…right? Need a flock to lead?

 Can't have shepherds without sheep. 

And supposedly, America is motherfucking STOCKED with sheep. Which…did you see that Tweet up there about increasing sales of lamb? Um…ever thought that maybe…instead of slaughtering a fuckton of sheep like your life depended on it, maybe let a cull slide here and there. Doing without on occasion, might help us better deal with what it’s like, to forget what it is like, to be fat and happy.

PLUS!!!…it’ll give some reprieves to some little lambs that might be looking for a longer-term shepherd.

^Nitrous Oxide – Orient Express^

Someone Tweeted this story…

RAF fighters intercept two Russian bombers near UK airspace

…and it got me to thinking about a brief conversation that I had with a certain someone about Twitter execs supposedly snooping on their users.

First of all, there is a line of thinking, where certain people attempt to…erm…“take their destiny into their own hands” by joining the machine that monitors. They do this, thinking that they can somehow transcend the monitors and monitoring, by joining the club. But I got a question about “ascension”, irrespective of when and how it occurs…

Q: Now what?

A: !!!

Yeah…did you remember to take a parachute with you? If so, did you pack it yourself, because just because you aren’t being monitored today, doesn’t mean you aren’t going to be monitored tomorrow.

I’m not proposing a defeatist attitude towards people taking things that don’t belong to them, nor people snooping on others just because they can. But if you took the time to watch the video above from 1969 where the people were dancing to the “Pop Corn” song, you’ll notice that their rhythm was all over the fucking place. Some fast, some slow, some trying to dance this way, others trying to dance that way…adjusting to something new. Lots of figuring out to be done there.

^Planet Jazz- Monster ??!^

Same goes for anything new I guess. Takes a while to find a rhythm. Takes a while to adjust to a rhythm. Gonna be a lot of impatient motherfuckers getting antsy. Wanting shit “RIGHT GODDAMN NOW BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!!!”, and I understand that kind of thinking, but maybe cut down on the coffee and chill dipshits. Get two shots in your Starbucks instead of four. Or hell, up it to eight.

I dunno...just...chill. 

I hate when these motherfuckers tell me I’m gonna get left behind, and then the next day they tell me the same bullshit. Welp, if I got left behind, how in the fuck are we having this conversation? Anyone that tells me “I’m gonna get left” is prolly angling me. Or did I just assume your intentions?

^Sven Väth & Barbarella – My Name Is Barbarella^

There are some days that I just want to crawl under a rock and die. But I’ve been here before, and I survived it then, so why wouldn’t I survive it now? Just because I’m 50 years old and completely worthless, welp, that inspires me to keep moving. Seeing things like that ant, holding on for dear life, inspires me. Hang on while the storm blows, and move the best you can, when you can, as the storm relents.

I mean, have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, nature sometimes needs us to hunker down for a bit? Sit tight. If you’ve not considered that, just keep in mind that we sleep. So maybe not just and only storms sometimes do the trick with respect to getting us to chill at bit.

^Sven Väth – Extra welt / Zu Fuss^

/begin poem

A quick spin round, and to, is the thing now to do.

Outside, real quick, to check on this snow, the news is thick.

brb

Back, not a goddamn thing, not a goddamn flake, not one flake to see, except…me.

‘Tis cold and cloudy, no snow, plenty of wind, I’m pouty.

But not sad, not mad, not glad, not yet, no snow I’d bet.

But why bet on the weather, it’s always coming together, just like laces in a shoe.

And not to be too bold, but warm or cold, I’d like to curl up with you.

/end poem

Definitely colder outside, but the air has a warm feeling to it. The air is heavy. Feels heavy.

Weird.
^Mark Jenkyns – Sirens Feat. Mizbee (Original Mix)^

Neuronal Circuits Reportedly Mapped More Comprehensively Than Ever Before

This is interesting, but the story goes from…

“they have devised a novel method that maps electrical circuits in the brain”

to…

“enabled them to map out all 250 cells that make up a microcircuit in part of a mouse brain that processes smell”

…pretty quickly.

From "Brain" to "Mouse Brain" pretty fucking fast. 

The fact they’re tinkering in areas that process smell is pretty fucking impressive, but to what end? It seems there are elements that are wanting to ban anything and everything that supposedly makes us sick. So…what’s the reason for research like this?

Once alcohol and cigarettes are gone, and plants are completely under the control of corporations and/or government, freewill can be tamed, and there’ll be nothing left for anyone to do…right? Or am I being to shallow and not looking at the greater picture and the big good.

That said, the article only mentions the word “mouse” once, “mice” not at all, and “brain” ten times. Let’s check out “the big study” and see where that leads us.

Architecture of a mammalian glomerular domain revealed by novel volume electroporation using nanoengineered microelectrodes

Glomerulus (Kidney)

Bowman’s Capsule

I knew it. Conspiracy.

Mystery = SOLVED!!! Next!
^Franky Rizardo – Killa Bees (Original Mix) [Sola]^

However, identifying the totality of cells belonging to such neuronal modules, the “inputs” and “outputs,” remains a major challenge.

That’s from the “Neuronal Circuits” article above, but I’m still perplexed about the “I/O” nature of thinking in science. I mean, what if information processing takes a fuckton longer than you think it does? Something unique to me, may not be unique to you, so to say something always processes information in the same way(s) seems…foolhardy. Not to mention that the nature of your “I/O” thinking is prolly backwards to begin with. Meaning, you’ve not stop to consider that “I/O” is a simultaneous process that happens at the same time. Perhaps even at the same time, at the same point, and happens multiple times. Like a sequence.

EX: In order to get in, and I mean in, and only in, you need a sequence of registers that simultaneously register: I, O, O, I, I, O, O, I, I, I, O.

Yeah rly. 

I’m suggesting that a sequence of “In, Out, Out, In, In, Out, Out, In, In, In, Out” may be required just to get in. There’s prolly going to be some embedded encoding within the “IN” key that allows the potential, for an “OUT” key to be generated, depending on the information that follows the “IN” key.

Am I really suggesting that this I/O sequencing into the brain is going to be that complex? Nope. It’s not going to be that easy. I’m suggesting that it’s going to be a fuckton more complex than that.

^Eli Brown – Get Down^

Thinking like that shouldn’t be that much of a stretch. We are talking about trapping here, information processing and retention, data preservation. That means there are going to be FUCKTONS of traps preventing you from getting in, and perhaps even allowing you to get in. Getting out is another matter entirely. I mean, DNA is pretty complex…right?

If the model of tumblers that I see in my head is even partially correct with respect to how information is processed and potentially stored within the body. Um…you better get out your stopwatches and start thinking about time, times, and a fuckton of time and times, then you better start thinking about friction, atrophy, decay, motion, what constitutes energy over time…and a fuckton of other things. I guess I’m thinking about things like that, because “In, Out, Out, In, In, Out, Out, In, In, In, Out” may get you in today, but tomorrow may require “In, In, In, In, In, Out, In, In, In, In, In”.

How long are you willing to monitor this shit? Yeah…why not hook this shit up to your own brain, then you monitor yourself and let others monitor you for the rest of your life. We’ll keep you posted on how it all turns out. Srsly…we will. You’re in good hands. I’ve practiced on thousands of grapefruits.

^CamelPhat – Drop It^

Lemme explain why I’m thinking in those lines, assuming that I possess the ability to do so.

We are talking about information…correct? Are you going to use the first key that works? Welp, what if that key, sends all information to one place, and one place only?

Yeah...storage. 

There’s GOT to be more to the routing system than just and only one key. What happens when you send a message, but the pathway is already occupied, and the message cannot be sent in totality? Are you prepared with how to deal with “packet loss” and the like? I mean…doesn’t the brain supposedly work differently/better in the mornings for certain things, and differently/worse in the evenings for those same things? Let’s say that the following is true…

Key 1: “In, Out, Out, In, In, Out, Out, In, In, In, Out”

Key 2: “In, In, In, In, In, Out, In, In, In, In, In”

Key 3: “iN, oUT, oUT, iN, iN, oUT, oUT, iN, iN, iN, oUT”

Key 4: “nI, nI, nI, nI, nI, tuO, nI, nI, nI, nI, nI”

Let’s say that applying those four keys, in sequence, will get you in, through, and back out, without making a single change to anything. Basically, a ping, and a response acknowledging that your sequence was correct, and that the system recognized/recognizes that you are trying to gain access, do nothing except gain access, get through, and return. This response is neither friendly, nor unfriendly. Basically just a response of “I heard you”.

Q: How are you going to interpret that?

A: ?!¿?!¿!!!

Might wanna give it some thought. “Space” and “messages from space” are prolly not just and only going to come from one place or another. Might wanna give that some thought as well. I’m sure as shit chewing on it.

^Charles Pierre – Directions (Original Mix)^

Something else to consider…

I am a human.

To say that I’ve no knowledge of my own makeup is…

shortsighted.

I have knowledge of self.

Some anyway 😉

I am a someone, (Individual Human)

that is part of a group, (Humans)

that is also part of a group, (Life)

and this group of groups contains unlimited groups (Lives).

So yeah…to say that it’s impossible for me to know things about myself, that are more “scientific” in nature, while possessing none of the “skill and knowledge” that these scientific modalities create? That it’s impossible for me to know things about myself, because I possess none of the machinery… None of the training… none of the skills… none of the experience… none of the peer support…and on and on?

Welp...you'd be right about that.

Within the scope of the entirety of things, not sure what that means tho.

/me shrugs
^The Crystal Method – Name of the Game (Hybrid’s Blackout in LA Mix)^

cYacFa

^Pleasurekraft & Green Velvet – Skeleton Key (Format B Remix)^

*******

*/puffs… You got here before me, Clicky…/pats snout… *

Sew there you have it, Dear Reader – a poetic missive shambles inspired by thoughts on medicine…

medicine (n.)

c. 1200, “medical treatment, cure, remedy,” also used figuratively, of spiritual remedies, from Old French medecine (Modern French médicine) “medicine, art of healing, cure, treatment, potion,” from Latin medicina “the healing art, medicine; a remedy,” also used figuratively, perhaps originally ars medicina “the medical art,” from fem. of medicinus (adj.) “of a doctor,” from medicus “a physician” (from PIE root *med- “take appropriate measures”); though OED finds evidence for this is wanting. Meaning “a medicinal potion or plaster” in English is mid-14c.

To take (one’s) medicine “submit to something disagreeable” is first recorded 1865. North American Indian medicine-man “shaman” is first attested 1801, from American Indian adoption of the word medicine in sense of “magical influence.” The U.S.-Canadian boundary they called Medicine Line (first attested 1910), because it conferred a kind of magic protection: punishment for crimes committed on one side of it could be avoided by crossing over to the other. Medicine show “traveling show meant to attract a crowd so patent medicine can be sold to them” is American English, 1938. Medicine ball “stuffed leather ball used for exercise” is from 1889.

It is called a “medicine ball” and it got that title from Prof. Roberts, now of Springfield, whose fame is widespread, and whose bright and peculiar dictionary of terms for his prescription department in physical culture is taught in every first-class conducted Y.M.C.A. gymnasium in America. Prof. Roberts calls it a “medicine ball” because playful exercise with it invigorates the body, promotes digestion, and restores and preserves one’s health. [“Scientific American Supplement,” March 16, 1889]

I’m off now to spend some time with Thoughtful Man, and Clicky is…

*Charming!*

… Already out of here apparently. Dear Reader… Have a Song 😀

Missive From ‘Merica: No.85 Part 3 – Breathe…

*Hmm… Looking kinda brown there, Clicky…*

*/rolls eyes…*

Ironing and washing up chores are now done for the day, Dear Reader. Thoughtful Man is home from work and I’ve ordered grub from HKK. So let’s see if I can post part three of Cade’s ten page missive before dinner arrives. They’re usually pretty fast…

Enjoy! ❤

*******

I’m currently stuck at the same place I’ve been stuck at for a while. And that is…

‘what do I have to offer at all, let alone anything I might have to offer someone else?’

"TO OFFER" RESERVOIR STATUS = EMPTY

So where that leads me to, is…

‘Why throw wrenches into the works?’

I sure as shit don’t want that, and if I cannot complete this process of getting this shit out of my head in a constructive way, that’s exactly what I see myself as doing.

Causing confusion and dismay. 

Something to consider tho, is that I’m not try to create order either. Order is just as chaotic as anything else. As such, I’ve let others lead me as much as possible.

 Listen to what they have to say. 

There is no why in allowing others to lead you. To me anyway, the fact that someone is willing to help me and/or pass things along, tells me, that “why” will be answered for me at some point, and the fact that they ARE helping me I consider to be grace via graciousness.

^The Supermen Lovers (feat. Mani Hoffman) – Starlight (Official Video)^

I sometimes get accused of “reading into things that are not there”. Have you considered your own intentions? Have you even considered your intentions? The possibility of unintended effects? I’m not talking “subconscious” types of bullshit here. If your intention is to help with “A”, that means that there is an “X”…which means there is a “B”. You’ll need to evaluate your own path to see where you have merged into traffic, but there is a nested nature to everything. That’s just my own opinion, I just don’t personally see these static holograms and these holographic types of thinking as being anything static.

EX1: Is a bridge static? When you walk across a bridge or drive a vehicle over a bridge, is the bridge still static? Does the bridge accommodate the change, changes and changing? Sure it does. Irrespective of whether this is to bend, or not to bend, and when and where and under what circumstances, all is movement.

The problem and problems, as I see it, is this “finite nature” that we have become so bedazzled with. It doesn’t allow for change where change is necessary. Like something so absurd as someone being told…

YOU’RE BREATHING TOO MUCH!!!

…based on some static acceptable/approved respiratory rate that is based on average and averages. Context loses all meaning, or at least, it occurs to me that it certainly can.

EX2: What is the “average” respiratory rate of someone having a sudden chance encounter with a Grizzly Bear?

Or…have you not amassed enough data for an accurate accounting? What’s your base for attaining an acceptable level of accuracy?

Are you needing volunteers for your “CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE BEAR KIND” research? If so, I’m available.

Are you needing volunteers for your “CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE BARE KIND” research? If so, I’m also possibly/probably available for that.

Maybe.

Just sayin’.

I can understand your reservations.

I’m hairy.

^Lilly Wood & The Prick and Robin Schulz – Prayer In C (Robin Schulz Remix) (Official)^

For the record…I would think that the respiratory rate of someone having a sudden chance encounter with a grizzly bear would most likely be…

WHO GIVES A SHIT?!?!?! IT”S A FUCKING GRIZZLY BEAR!!!

That said, we don’t need Grizzly Bears in our life in order to have measurable stress and stresses…do we? We’ve all kinds of stress and stresses and stressors. What seems to be lacking…is relief. Certainly lacking in relief from those who wish take relieve us of our relievers and their relief(s).

^Crookers – Remedy (Feat. Miike Snow)^

*******

*Still aways to go, Clicky… /burps…*

Dinner arrived before I could finish up this third installment, so I’m feeling kinda stuffed right now, Dear Reader… Until Part Four… Have a Song 😉

Missive From ‘Merica: Plumb, Dumb Ore Numb-Ass Day

Happy Sat-Here-Day to you, Dear Reader 😀

We have a fantastic, new missive from Cade, below, for you to enjoy. Now, I don’t want to delay you from getting straight to it… I’ll just leave a couple of things for you up here – a video…

… And a patented Okie Devil ‘Mystery = SOLVED! Next!’ 😉

*Knot to give any spoilers away, Clicky, but think ‘women’s plumbing’…*

Have a Song

Catch you at the bottom for a Song…

*A proper Song, Clicky… /holds up hands… At the bottom! Now…Git!*

*******

X: You can take E’s, E’s, E’s…but not O’s.

Cade: K. What about O’s and E’s?

X: O’s but not E’s.

Cade: Y?

X: AH! U have A question I see.

Cade: Yep.

X: K…well, in that case you can take O’s AND E’s, but not E’s or O’.

Cade: Got it.

0: I doubt that, but we’ll C.

Cade: KO.

0: You mean…OK?

Cade: Whatevz.

0: KO.

Z: 78 A?

Cade: So it would appear.

Z: 78’…good year.

Cade: Which one?

T: Don’t get smart.

Cade: Working on it.

X: You seem a shade out of sorts. What’s up?

Cade: Dunno.

X: Today is Thursday isn’t it?

Cade: That’s the rumor.

A: …

^Blind Side (Hybrid Soundsystem Remix)^

A: You have no clue what you are going to write about…do you.

Cade: Not that I ever do…but very perceptive of you. I got nothin’.

A: Why do you think that is? You see to be thinking quite a bit.

Cade: Dunno. Maybe it’s this nagging skin business?

A: Anything else on your mind?

Cade: It’s gone fuzzier than usual. Sorry.

A: Wanna come clean?

Cade: Nope.

A: Fair enough.

^Adriatique – Bodymovin’ (Original Mix)^

So hi. Yeah…I ain’t thinking about anything in particular. Ain’t gonna spring anything nutty on Roob, like a Random Wiki or anything, but I ain’t got much.

No music on my radar.

No news.

No images.

No info.

No thoughts.

0: Now that’s just not true.

Cade: For the most part it is.

0: Percentages. They only tell part of the story.

Cade: I’m down with that. Still doesn’t mean I have anything.

0: No need to state the obvious.

Cade: …

0: Several things are “on your radar”…aren’t they?

Cade: That doesn’t really mean anything. All I can do is think about them.

0: You thinking about…

Cade: Nope. I mean yeah…but no.

0: Hmmmm…

Cade: Nope…ain’t doing that either.

0: Making predictions? Are you afraid of being wrong?

Cade: I don’t know how to respond to that.

0: You’ve become a snoozefest.

Cade: Nothing new there.

0: …

^Saccao – It’s Over (Fabo Late Night Mix)^

I’ve been breezing around some places the last few weeks, and of course, there is now this interest in these three hurricanes that are here and there.

Q: What about Harvey?

A: ?¿?

Houston already gone off everyone’s radars in anticipation of the next big thing?

I guess the future is where it’s at, eh?

Thanks…but no thanks. I’ll bring up the rear.

Ya’ll blaze away tho. Someone’s gotta do it I guess.

/me shrugs
^Alan Walker – Faded^

B: Monday’s trip still eating on you?

Cade: You know it is.

B: And how would I know that?

Cade: Because you asked?

B: You know…they know, that you are making all this shit up.

Cade: Some may. Some may not.

B: Maybe there’s some rhyme or reason to that. You DO tend to play your cards a shade close to the chest.

Cade: I got snot answers.

B: And if you did?

Cade: They wouldn’t be burning a hole in my pocket…that’s for sure.

Z: An ironic observation for someone who “plays their cards close to the chest” in the way that you do.

Cade: Hey…I gets no questions…I gots no answers.

Z: Does that make you feel safe?

Cade: Where’d B go?

Z: I’m not answering that.

Cade: 😦

Z: …

^Hybrid – Last man standing (HD)^

There was a movie that I watched last night. It’s called City of Ember. Not bad. The puzzle aspect was pretty cool. Especially how they played it. There was an interesting image in the film towards the end. It was interesting to me, primarily, because this image showed up on my radar when shit got all kinds of sideways a few years ago.

Like, during the really really REALLY sideways portion. 

That point, where shit looked as if shit was gonna get so fucking sideways, that I was gonna lose any sort of grasp on what was happening within my life. At that point tho, but when the shit REALLY hit the fan after that? For me anyway…shit got really fucking calm and started to make sense. That’s when shit got so fucking sideways, that I don’t even know how to explain it with any degree of reliability nor relatability.

I know what it means...I just can't explain it. 

But yeah…an image…in that film I watched…I think I found the first instance of that image. Maybe it’s a popular one. Perhaps even well known. But not to me. Perhaps it rings a bell from my youth. I can say for certainty, that the song below got me through some long, rough, and lonely nights and days.

^Gold Panda – You^

G: Right on time.

Cade: As promised.

G: You promised to be on time?

Cade: No. Sounded good tho.

X: May I?

Cade: Maybe.

X: Do you realize that you just typed “Cade” without even thinking about it?

Cade: I’ve gotten that machine like, eh?

X: Maybe it’s comfort.

Cade: I’ve no idea.

X: …

^Oliver Koletzki – Arrow & Bow (Marek Hemmann Remix)^

X: What do you see there in that image above?

Cade: Something I was thinking about earlier today.

X: And what was that?

Cade: What an individual’s life looks like over the course of a lifetime on a spinning, wobbling, spinning planet from a Universal context.

X: And what did you come up with?

Cade: Something similar to that.

X: Looks like…knitting, or weaving, or something like that.

Cade: It does.

X: You think that’s how a soul is created?

Cade: It was just a thought.

X: I wonder what it looks like, like, prior to.

Cade: I dunno. It’s a lot to think about.

X: Wrote about something similar to that elsewhere recently?

Cade: Maybe.

X: …

^Mogwai – Take Me Somewhere Nice^
Lotta dreams over the past week or so. 

I’ve been staying up late, and not eating much, and I guess it’s causing me to dream a lot. I feel like a jerkoff for writing this shit, but I’ve nothing really to say, and feel like writing…so…yeah…don’t read it. Won’t change the fact that this particular whatever seems kinda self-serving.

Whatshername offered to buy me a bus ticket to wherever I want to go. So I guess I’m giving serious consideration to taking her up on that. Just need to decide where to go. Temperature around here dropped considerably all sudden like two nights ago. Definitely been much cooler in the day, and damn near a chill in the air for the past two evenings.

Moon looks damn nice.
^Youth – Daughter^

Didn’t stay up last night tho. Tis now Friday. Was awoken by a frantic knocking at my door. My youngest son…letting me know that…

“the plumbers are here, and mom is on the phone.”

Strange that she didn’t call me, but at the same time, not very strange at all. So I hop up, start to get dressed, and MY phone rings.

Whatshername: The plumbers are there.

Cade: So I’ve been told.

Whatshername: They weren’t supposed to be there until noon.

Cade: I didn’t know that there were plumbers coming at all.

Whatshername: They are going to be checking the plumbing for a leak.

Cade: …

Whatshername: Your youngest is out there dealing with them now. They weren’t supposed to be there until noon, and they don’t need to be talking to a 14 year old.

Cade: …

Whatshername: Well, I just wanted to let you know that they are there.

Cade: He told me.

Whatshername: Well, I’ve left work and am on my way home, but I’m not going to be able to be there for at least a half an hour.

Cade: OK.

Whatshername: I’ll be there as soon as I can.

Cade: OK.

Certain tension(s)? I don’t understand them.

Sure...I do...but no...I don't. 

However…answers? They are always coming. Like some galactic stutter…they are just waiting to come out…just takes a little patience and understanding. A shade of fortitude helps.

^The Chemical Brothers – Leave Home ( Koyaanisqatsi (1983) )^

So I wander out of my room to hunt down these mysterious plumbers that have suddenly appeared, and sure enough, there they were. They showed me what they had found, told me what they thought, and told me the plan from there. I told them that their find made sense, and that we had once lived in an apartment that had a similar problem. One of them asked me…

Plumber B: Do you know how to turn the hot water heater off?

Cade: No.

Plumber B: Let me show you, since you probably want to keep it off unless someone needs to take a shower.

We wandered back to where the hot water heater is located, he opened the door, and I noticed that there is duct tape all over the door and door frame.

 "Whatshername has been here." 

I don’t blame her for her creative methods of whatever it is she was/is trying to do, but some are doozies. Anyway, he showed me how to turn it off, and warned me of which pipes to be wary of so as not to get burned.

Cade: Me and her were recently divorced, and I’m literally just about to leave in a coupla days, but I want to get as much info as I can to pass along to her.

Plumber B: Has there been any recent change(s) in the amount of the gas bill or water bill?

Cade: You know, now that you mention it, she did mention that there was an increase in the gas bill a few months ago…but she said that her sister’s gas bill also went up at the same time, so I didn’t think much of it.

Plumber B: What about the water bill?

Cade: I wouldn’t know.

I thanked him, and we both wandered out back were Plumber A was using a long steel rod to probe the ground for soft-spots in the soil.

^Foetus – Slung^

I must say, I was shocked at just how deep he was able to run that rod into the ground. Even tho we’ve had a lot of rain this year, we have very hard ground here…black clay. Digging into it without machinery is damn near an exercise in futility, and yet, he was able to plunge this thin steel rod into the ground several feet with relative ease.

Yikes!!! 

Thinking about it now…the entire roof on this house was just recently replaced…like, right at 2 years ago I think. I got to looking at the ground, the foundation, the brick paths/bricks that make it up, the brick steps up to the back door, I started thinking about all of the cracks that I’ve pointed out to her in both the foundation and the frame of the house.

Plumber A: Is there any plumbing or water fixtures in the garage?

Cade: No. Just electric.

So it appears, that there is a hot water pipe leak under the foundation. They’ll bring in a listening device, pump air through the system, then track the location of the leak…pretty clever. If they need, they’ll also bring in heat sensors to place on the floor and see if they can get a better idea as to the locale, because where the soil is softening, is nowhere near a hot-water line.

This is rather perplexing. It does have me to thinking about sinkholes tho. Maybe that’s why that one Crepe Myrtle tree out front has started standing up so straight this year. It’s roots are being pulled due to the softening of the soil from the leak. That means, this pipe has prolly been leaking for some time.

^Jay Lumen – The Line (Original Mix) – Noir Music^

Younger Son: Dad…mom says she needs to talk to you RIGHT NOW!

Cade: Um…OK.

The plumbers were just about to leave, said they needed to contact the owner of the house/our landlord, and that everything would be handled and scheduled through them.

Cade: Yes?

Whatshername: Do NOT tell them you are living there.

Cade: What?!?!?

Whatshername: They DO NOT need to know you are living there. Do not tell them ANYTHING personal…they don’t need to know.

At this point, it became clear that she had been on the phone with my son, he had her on speaker, and she had been listening to the conversation(s).

Whatshername: You aren’t supposed to be there.

Cade: Huh?

Whatshername: Just…you aren’t supposed to be there. I’ll explain it later. Just don’t tell them ANYTHING about our personal lives.

Cade: OK.

Jesus Christ…all I could think about, was grabbing my fucking bag and backpack, and running. No idea what I’m running from…but it ain’t good…that’s for fucking sure.

I shoulda left Monday.
^Hannah Wants & Chris Lorenzo – Rhymes^

All I can think about, is my son sitting there on the couch, completely lost, and no clue what to do.

The answers are coming.

Yeah…you are prolly thinking…

“what’s the big fucking deal?”

I’m with you. It’ll get solved. He did great through the process, and I’m sure, that were I not here, he coulda handled everything just fine. But there’s something else at work here. It primarily involves information exchange. Or lack thereof.

So yeah...secrets.
^Lemon Interupt – Dirty^

As I continue writing this nonsense, Whatshername has since arrived home. She felt the need to recap everything that I already knew, and I’ve learned not to interrupt, or at least keep them to a minimum.

Whatshername: They are going to need to dig under the foundation.

Cade: I was here. They told me. I was here. They gave me the full skinny to pass along to you.

Whatshername: Did they tell you how long it was going to take?

Cade: A half-day to a day.

Whatshername: That’s what they told me too.

Cade: I know…I was standing there when you were talking to them on the phone.

Whatshername: You were?

Cade: Yes. You were on speakerphone. Look, the first time you called me, you implied that I needed to go out there and deal with them, so I did.

Whatshername: I appreciate that…but…

She’s a wreck…no doubting that. Each time I talked with her on the phone, I could tell that she was furious that they showed up early. She told them as much while she was talking to them on the phone. She even mentioned that she works in a basement where there is no cell service, and didn’t get their message until she left work. Plumber B, who was talking to her on the phone, mentioned that they had a cancellation, and as such, they were early.

^The Prodigy – Funky Shit Perplex Version^

Whatshername: I took you off the lease when I renewed it.

Cade: …

Whatshername: We aren’t allowed to have visitors for more than 14 days without approval from the owner.

Cade: …

So yeah...seek, and ye shall find.

Not that I was looking for any of that shit. Then again, I didn’t expect to be here at all. Things just keep developing that keep me around, as I am occasionally useful for certain things. But keeping me in the dark because you are working some kookie side-deals? You are trying to stand on your own…I get it.

Jesus Christ…we all need help. Especially when we need it. And we know better than anyone when we need it. When a committee must now decide just how needy your needs are, yeah…shit is gonna get sideways. Their objective is to say “no”. If they can’t say “no” to your request, then they fucking FIND a way to say “no”.

Trust...is NEVER on the table.

We’re talking about machinery…and clockworks…and processes…and rules…and guidelines…not people.

People are incidental and even inconsequential.

^Sasha – Rooms^

Just thinking that as long as needy is trumped by neediest, needy will always become neediest at some point. Or…they’ll die, and there will no longer be a need to need.

Speaking of…Kellie of “Kellie In The Raw”…it appears that her daughter was hit by a car recently.

Some good thoughts her and her family's way prolly couldn't hurt.

Prolly some people down Houston and S. Texas way that could prolly use some good thoughts as well.

^Din Daa Daa (Original 12″ Version) – George Kranz | 80s Dance Music | 80s Club Music | 80s Club Mix^
Sooooo....here we go.

I’m sitting in a house that has a mushy swamp under its foundation, a cracked or broken pipe somewhere, and I now feel the need to go point out to Whatshername that the owner of this house is gonna be a primary player in this. I get the feeling that she forgets that.

That said, I have no problem with her taking me off the lease, I expected to be gone by now. That does have me thinking a bit about those brand new roads that they just put in. Lotta weight and weight changes in a relatively short period of time. Lotta vibration and resonance changes, ESPECIALLY when you consider the number of trees that were cut down to facilitate the construction of these roads.

I’m not suggesting that this construction caused this pipe problem, but it could certainly be a factor. We are dealing in aggregate afterall. Yeah…lots of places, dealing in aggregate(s) AND singular(s). So yeah…I get the feeling that Newtonian laws are equally applicable in many areas that we’ve never fathomed.

^M83 – Wait (Kygo Remix)^

I guess the more that we tinker with the tiny, for the sake of the huge, we are going to see more and more shit like this. All kinds of crazy shit that makes no fucking sense at all.

Q: Why would it?

A: !!!???!!!

You gonna start deploying sensors here, there and every fucking where?

Gonna start aggregating information so you can make a better informed decision and/or better decisions?

To what end? 

Are you forgetting something?

Are you forgetting several things?

Many things?

^Armin van Buuren ft. Susana – Shivers (Original Mix)^

Leaks, leaks, fractures, and leaks.

That makes me think of that movie I just watched, City of Embers. It had Martin Landau in it, and he played the role of a pipeworks worker. At one point, he mentioned that the water system was in such a state of disrepair, and it had been so long since they had any new pipe, that the tape used to seal leaks was longer than the pipe system itself.

So yeah...pressure(s) + time(s) over time = leaks.

Now that you have read the previous sentence, you may feel free to get specific at this point.

It’ll help make your case.

Need any help?

^The Raveonettes “Love in a Trashcan” Music Video^

I’m sure you’ve got your tried and true steadfast methods, that work time and again and haven’t failed you yet.

I don't. 

Well…cept for the ones that you give me. And they look different from this angle. Especially when they serve you and not me or vice versa. How can I feel safe in saying such a thing? Welp, really, I don’t feel safe in saying it. But there is some consolation in knowing, that if I am involved…there is a reason. I was involved long before I showed up on your radar, and I’ll likely be involved long after I disappear from your radar. What does that mean? I dunno. But I will.

Or not.
^deftones – elite (08/21/09)^

WOAH!! A last minute question from The Whatever However Hotline!!!

Q: Cade…who are you talking to?

Cade: I dunno. Who do you want me to be talking to? Who should I be talking to? So yeah…I dunno. Don’t care either.

Sorry, was just interrupted by Whatshername coming to ask me how to turn the hot water back on. Showed her where the valve was, and explained to her, that when the valve handle is parallel to the pipe…it means the water is flowing, and when the valve handle is perpendicular to the pipe…it means that the water is not flowing.

A big smile crept across her face, almost as if to say…

“so THAT’S how it works!!! Clever!!!”

Yep…people are actually and indeed…quite clever.

Go figure.

Ya’ll go have a good weekend or something.

^Crookers – Remedy (Feat. Miike Snow)^

cYacFa

^Paul Keeley – I can´t (stop)^

*******

Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Dear Reader, and… Have a Song ❤