❧
I woke up dreaming about being in a restaurant with an unknown woman. We were in the act of leaving. She went to the ladies room while I was to pay the bill. We had only had sandwiches. The bill came to $40, and I had $5 in my hand. I wasn't worried about paying the bill, but I was so embarrassed that I had to think about it that I woke up with an intense feeling of shame.
The fact that I am is so poor that I would have to take my poverty in consideration while with this innocent woman that I knew I would have to find a way to get shed of her before she became a habit I couldn't afford. It wouldn't be the first time that I've had to shut people out of my life because they're used to being with people who never had to think about the cost of living simple. It's not fair to them. They've been catered to all their life.
Later, in another dream, I was driving through this smallish town out west somewhere where it's flat and arid. Suddenly, there was a marching band crossing the road in front of me and I was signaled to stop to let them proceed. That kind of irked me. They came out of nowhere, and they expected me to wait for them to cross the road, but they didn't. They stopped right in the middle of the road. A young man came over to my car, opened the passenger's side door, and innocently informed me that his dog was under the house.
I should have realized in this moment that I was dreaming and moved into a lucid state in order to take command of the dream, but that didn't happen. Why am I always the last to know?
Why are the participants in my dreams innocent, and I'm always complicit in these awkward situations. It's not "always" in my dreamtime this happens, but even in real life (if that's what being awake is). My choice to live a simple life in the here and now seems troublesome (usually for others) most of the time.
My brother and I were out on our walk last night and he was telling me about how his life is going. Sorta bragging inside the family circle. He wouldn't dream of telling a stranger about his success and how he and his wife spend money I'll never have. He wasn't really trying to impress me. Again, he was innocent of that. He seemed to be trying to impress himself.
He tells me these things because he thinks I'll be proud of him, and I am. He might not have those stories to tell if it hadn't been for me choosing the path that has a heart for me, but I don't tell him that. I am definitely pleased for him, but I never have chased ofter money or social position, and more is the pity in their eyes that I haven't.
My personal life, as far as other people are concerned, appears to be divided into two areas. My first marriage that ended with me committing myself to the insane asylum, and my second marriage that just petered out because of the path I chose for myself.
All the other parts of my life is about what happened as result of my visions. People only understand visionaries if they're quite dead, and I ain't dead yet. I institute changes for them that seem ludicrous and cause real problems for people whose life is changed because of me, and neither of us know why I do that. Later, sometimes decades later, I do understand it in a wistful moment or a dream, but the damage is done.
In the past, I've enjoyed participating in e-mail discussion groups. For the last year or so I've tried to keep the last one I actually took part in by deliberately writing absurd posts to elicit a response from the other members for the sole purpose trying to keep them going, and then to bring them back to life. Occasionally some member or the other might respond half-heartedly, but never for long.
I figured that if I stopped posting that would be the end of it, and I have stopped posting, and I was right. Nobody cares. I gotta let a sleeping dog lie. The only e-mail I get now is from an iPhone group I joined thinking that eventually I'd buy an iPhone or a smartphone of some kind, I'm not, and so I'm unsubbing from that one today.
After I got the free phone that I've never been able to use to make even a single call, I'm taking that as a sign I probably don't need a telephone at all. I've shut the people down who have wanted to be friends with me. I guess I have to be satisfied with attempting to communicate with total strangers. What a drag, man...
❦
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
A Spring Day In Winter
☙
The dream I woke up to this morning was a little strange. I seem to have been one of a party of about ten frontiersmen moving through this area, and my role with these men was maybe that of a cook or a provisioner for the group. I never could figure out what their real purpose was, but I recognized the landscape.
It may have something to do with the walks I've taken down toward the river bottom that's part of our family land. Despite the worrying of the weather forecasters on the local TV stations that seem concerned about North Carolina being in a sort of a drought because the rainfall amounts are low, the swamps here are full of water. I couldn't get anywhere near the river because the floodplains were... errr... flooded.
Despite the fact that I'd gone on these long hikes (relative to how far my brother and I normally walk), when he called last night to see if I wanted to go for our regular walk, I told him I'd go, and so I did a lotta walking yesterday, and even the day before.
The day before I hiked down toward the river again, and on the way back I walked about five hundred yards (457.2 M) across a freshly plowed field. That was some tough walking that literally made me so tired I thought I'd end up having a heat stroke from the physical effort. I omitted that section of my walk yesterday.
The red bud maples are out in full bloom now. I noticed them down by the floodplains in the last couple of days, and had ignored the maple right outside my window. Maybe that's because I haven't done as much driving around recently. Normally I'd spot this activity in the low lands all the roads around here go through. Spring events like this amaze me every year.
Exactly why spring amazes me each year is a wonder since I've seen it happen off and on for nearly 72 years or will, because my birthday, which is in the spring, April 20th, is coming up in less than two months. I haven't been here for all those spring seasons. In the past I was in other places when spring arrived, but I have been here for at least the last ten years.
It's a little past twelve o'clock noon, and the temperature is already 75° (24° C). I don't know if this sets a record for this area, but I doubt it. We get warm fronts through here all during the winter in which the temperatures get up fairly high for brief periods. I've never understood why until the satellite images began showing the weather patterns.
I've been to Seattle a couple of times. Just last year was one of them. The most interesting thing about it is Mount Rainier. A fourteen thousand foot mountain that can be seen from sea level at Puget Sound.
It's different from Mount Mitchell, which is the highest mountain east of the Mississippi River because to see it you have to drive up to it through the foothills, and you're already up pretty high. It's the same deal with the California and Colorado peaks. You're already high up when they appear in the skyline.
Not Mount Rainier though. It's clearly visible on a clear day from anywhere in the Seattle area. Pretty much like Mount Fuji near Tokyo. When I was there during my first hitch in the Navy it seemed like we could have sailed right up to the foot of it, but not really.
I don't have a clue why I'm writing about mountains I have seen this morning. Maybe I'm thinking about traveling again. I don't know why. I certainly can't afford it. I'll probably never travel much more than a hundred miles from this very spot before I croak.
It doesn't matter. I traveled extensively back when I was younger. Somehow I knew I needed to do what I needed to be young to do while I was young, and despite the price my families would have to pay as a husband and father, I did it anyway. So did Gautama. That's the way it is for some men.
❦
The dream I woke up to this morning was a little strange. I seem to have been one of a party of about ten frontiersmen moving through this area, and my role with these men was maybe that of a cook or a provisioner for the group. I never could figure out what their real purpose was, but I recognized the landscape.
It may have something to do with the walks I've taken down toward the river bottom that's part of our family land. Despite the worrying of the weather forecasters on the local TV stations that seem concerned about North Carolina being in a sort of a drought because the rainfall amounts are low, the swamps here are full of water. I couldn't get anywhere near the river because the floodplains were... errr... flooded.
Despite the fact that I'd gone on these long hikes (relative to how far my brother and I normally walk), when he called last night to see if I wanted to go for our regular walk, I told him I'd go, and so I did a lotta walking yesterday, and even the day before.
The day before I hiked down toward the river again, and on the way back I walked about five hundred yards (457.2 M) across a freshly plowed field. That was some tough walking that literally made me so tired I thought I'd end up having a heat stroke from the physical effort. I omitted that section of my walk yesterday.
The red bud maples are out in full bloom now. I noticed them down by the floodplains in the last couple of days, and had ignored the maple right outside my window. Maybe that's because I haven't done as much driving around recently. Normally I'd spot this activity in the low lands all the roads around here go through. Spring events like this amaze me every year.
Exactly why spring amazes me each year is a wonder since I've seen it happen off and on for nearly 72 years or will, because my birthday, which is in the spring, April 20th, is coming up in less than two months. I haven't been here for all those spring seasons. In the past I was in other places when spring arrived, but I have been here for at least the last ten years.
It's a little past twelve o'clock noon, and the temperature is already 75° (24° C). I don't know if this sets a record for this area, but I doubt it. We get warm fronts through here all during the winter in which the temperatures get up fairly high for brief periods. I've never understood why until the satellite images began showing the weather patterns.
I've been to Seattle a couple of times. Just last year was one of them. The most interesting thing about it is Mount Rainier. A fourteen thousand foot mountain that can be seen from sea level at Puget Sound.
It's different from Mount Mitchell, which is the highest mountain east of the Mississippi River because to see it you have to drive up to it through the foothills, and you're already up pretty high. It's the same deal with the California and Colorado peaks. You're already high up when they appear in the skyline.
Not Mount Rainier though. It's clearly visible on a clear day from anywhere in the Seattle area. Pretty much like Mount Fuji near Tokyo. When I was there during my first hitch in the Navy it seemed like we could have sailed right up to the foot of it, but not really.
I don't have a clue why I'm writing about mountains I have seen this morning. Maybe I'm thinking about traveling again. I don't know why. I certainly can't afford it. I'll probably never travel much more than a hundred miles from this very spot before I croak.
It doesn't matter. I traveled extensively back when I was younger. Somehow I knew I needed to do what I needed to be young to do while I was young, and despite the price my families would have to pay as a husband and father, I did it anyway. So did Gautama. That's the way it is for some men.
❦
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Selah
☙
Warm days and cool nights. What could be mo' bettah? Granted, the last part of fall and the first part of winter had record cold temperatures in this neck of the woods, but this current weather pattern is kind of nice. There is something very comforting about sleeping under warm covers that reaches back into my childhood.
My brother came over to get the dog food and feeding pans he left with me to feed his dogs while he and his wife flew out to visit friends in Arizona for a week. They also drove to Las Vegas to help my 90 year old aunt celebrate her birthday. She is not even the oldest living aunt, but now all of them that are left are over 90.
My mother, their oldest sister was 93 when she died in 2005. Those Johnson's live a long time. It worries me. Their mother lived to be 96, and her mother lived to be 98. I've heard that the natural length of a person's life to be the same age as your mother's mother. Maybe I'll unexpectedly get run over by a truck first, but without a warning, thank you very much. BLAM!
I wouldn't go to court and swear that the silver colloids I've been spraying on my hands and feet was the cause of it, but all the lesions that I was having trouble with have dried up and pretty much gone away.
My internal use of it has been constrained to lifting my tongue up and spraying a spritz or two there for sublingual digestion. In my research I read that if I swallow it my stomach acids dissolve the silver nano-particles, but if I go the sublingual route they go straight into the blood stream. That seems to work best for me, but whatta I know?
I've become aware that I used the expression "pretty much" a lot, and I'm trying to become more aware of it. Whether I discontinue to employ it as a descriptor is up in the air. My main attention in this regard, presently, is to pay attention to where I used apostrophes, but I have no way of knowing whether I'm getting it right or not.
I have decided to stop with the "tossed-word-salad" for the most part. I use hyphens to bring my attention to the possible roots of words that lost their individuality through ti-me. Particularly if the letters "m" and "e" (me) are an integral part of a term or expression.
True, it helps me to get a deeper linguistic understanding of words that contain "me", but people have confronted me, in the past, stating that my doing that screws with the continuity of my intent for them, and have asked that I stop for their sake. No blame. I've always been selfish and wanted to do things my way for my sake. Maybe my dotage is making me kinder.
The biggest problem I seem to be having these days is my diet. Specifically, eating my own cooking. Damn, I'm a lousy cook! Occasionally I throw something together that tastes okay, and on rare occasion, excellent, but when I write "rare", I mean extremely infrequently. Maybe twice last year.
The local greasy spoon that follows the high school lunchroom menu is the criteria I use to judge my own cooking. Anything better than what I get there fits into the "excellent" category. That still doesn't mean that the average person would think what I cook tastes great. I get a lotta queasy feelings almost immediately after I eat my own cooking.
My first wife was a registered dietician who planned the menus of hundreds of hospital patients every day. She could cook lunchroom food with the best of them, but if we wanted something unique, we went out to eat. An Aries woman, I had to dissemble in order to run for my life.
My second and hopefully last wife couldn't even boil water when we began living together. All her mother (another Aries) taught her was how to shop at boutiques and irritate men to distraction. Her father died at a fairly young age to get away from that first-generation German bitch.
By the time we married (to give the child she was pregnant with a legal standing in the world), she had become a right fair cook. If she hadn't have had to work all the time because she had a lazy/crazy husband, there was a fair chance she could have become a gourmand.
It's not rare for me to consider killing myself. As I've written before, I've thought about it every day of my life since I was nineteen years old, eating my own cooking is NOT the way I would choose to die, but it may inadvertently happen that way. I don't know how that could happen though, I cook everything to death to make sure what I cook don't kill me.
Ideally, I'd get up with some ugly old crone who liked to keep a garden and cook what she grew there. I write "ugly" because it was recommended to me by a guy who swears he married his wife because she was ugly, and nobody else wanted her. The only-est thang that betrays his advice, however, is that she had wealthy parents, and hell, even I would have married her for that.
That is a lie I've been telling all my adult life. I've had several chances to marry into wealthy families, and just couldn't do it. It was not because of the money, coincidentally, but because I don't do the choosing when it comes to getting up with women, and there's the shame of it. I'm not a "real man" who takes control of intimate relationships and makes them go like I want them to happen. Worse, I refuse to let the woman run the show unimpeded either.
We both lose because of my bullish stubbornness, and I don't know how to change. I'd go so far as to say I can't change even when I try real hard. That's the deal, I guess, with being born with both the Sun and the Moon in the astrology sign Taurus, and with the opposite sign Scorpio for my Ascendent.
Fixed signs. That's the problem. Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, and Aquarius are the "fixed signs" in the zodiac, and I got the most fixed of the fixed signs as the major indicators in my natal chart. I like to say that my Scorpion personality is similar to the lyrics of an old hymnal, "I'm lak a tree that's planted by tha' water, I shall not be moved."
The aspects in my natal chart are weird. Of the 38 major and minor aspects in my chart, 33 of them are considered positive, and more than a few of them are really excellent. The negative aspects, as few as there are, are unequaled. When I'm bad, I'm very, very bad, and when I'm evil, I'm outrageous, and nobody can live with me or even stay friends very long.
At the risk of seeming insane, sometimes it's on purpose. There are times in my life I just have to be alone. Much of the time I have to be alone, the other times than that is just because I wanna. I don't like it very much, and I do get lonely infrequently, but shit happens, and thangs change. Selah
❦
Warm days and cool nights. What could be mo' bettah? Granted, the last part of fall and the first part of winter had record cold temperatures in this neck of the woods, but this current weather pattern is kind of nice. There is something very comforting about sleeping under warm covers that reaches back into my childhood.
My brother came over to get the dog food and feeding pans he left with me to feed his dogs while he and his wife flew out to visit friends in Arizona for a week. They also drove to Las Vegas to help my 90 year old aunt celebrate her birthday. She is not even the oldest living aunt, but now all of them that are left are over 90.
My mother, their oldest sister was 93 when she died in 2005. Those Johnson's live a long time. It worries me. Their mother lived to be 96, and her mother lived to be 98. I've heard that the natural length of a person's life to be the same age as your mother's mother. Maybe I'll unexpectedly get run over by a truck first, but without a warning, thank you very much. BLAM!
I wouldn't go to court and swear that the silver colloids I've been spraying on my hands and feet was the cause of it, but all the lesions that I was having trouble with have dried up and pretty much gone away.
My internal use of it has been constrained to lifting my tongue up and spraying a spritz or two there for sublingual digestion. In my research I read that if I swallow it my stomach acids dissolve the silver nano-particles, but if I go the sublingual route they go straight into the blood stream. That seems to work best for me, but whatta I know?
I've become aware that I used the expression "pretty much" a lot, and I'm trying to become more aware of it. Whether I discontinue to employ it as a descriptor is up in the air. My main attention in this regard, presently, is to pay attention to where I used apostrophes, but I have no way of knowing whether I'm getting it right or not.
I have decided to stop with the "tossed-word-salad" for the most part. I use hyphens to bring my attention to the possible roots of words that lost their individuality through ti-me. Particularly if the letters "m" and "e" (me) are an integral part of a term or expression.
True, it helps me to get a deeper linguistic understanding of words that contain "me", but people have confronted me, in the past, stating that my doing that screws with the continuity of my intent for them, and have asked that I stop for their sake. No blame. I've always been selfish and wanted to do things my way for my sake. Maybe my dotage is making me kinder.
The biggest problem I seem to be having these days is my diet. Specifically, eating my own cooking. Damn, I'm a lousy cook! Occasionally I throw something together that tastes okay, and on rare occasion, excellent, but when I write "rare", I mean extremely infrequently. Maybe twice last year.
The local greasy spoon that follows the high school lunchroom menu is the criteria I use to judge my own cooking. Anything better than what I get there fits into the "excellent" category. That still doesn't mean that the average person would think what I cook tastes great. I get a lotta queasy feelings almost immediately after I eat my own cooking.
My first wife was a registered dietician who planned the menus of hundreds of hospital patients every day. She could cook lunchroom food with the best of them, but if we wanted something unique, we went out to eat. An Aries woman, I had to dissemble in order to run for my life.
My second and hopefully last wife couldn't even boil water when we began living together. All her mother (another Aries) taught her was how to shop at boutiques and irritate men to distraction. Her father died at a fairly young age to get away from that first-generation German bitch.
By the time we married (to give the child she was pregnant with a legal standing in the world), she had become a right fair cook. If she hadn't have had to work all the time because she had a lazy/crazy husband, there was a fair chance she could have become a gourmand.
It's not rare for me to consider killing myself. As I've written before, I've thought about it every day of my life since I was nineteen years old, eating my own cooking is NOT the way I would choose to die, but it may inadvertently happen that way. I don't know how that could happen though, I cook everything to death to make sure what I cook don't kill me.
Ideally, I'd get up with some ugly old crone who liked to keep a garden and cook what she grew there. I write "ugly" because it was recommended to me by a guy who swears he married his wife because she was ugly, and nobody else wanted her. The only-est thang that betrays his advice, however, is that she had wealthy parents, and hell, even I would have married her for that.
That is a lie I've been telling all my adult life. I've had several chances to marry into wealthy families, and just couldn't do it. It was not because of the money, coincidentally, but because I don't do the choosing when it comes to getting up with women, and there's the shame of it. I'm not a "real man" who takes control of intimate relationships and makes them go like I want them to happen. Worse, I refuse to let the woman run the show unimpeded either.
We both lose because of my bullish stubbornness, and I don't know how to change. I'd go so far as to say I can't change even when I try real hard. That's the deal, I guess, with being born with both the Sun and the Moon in the astrology sign Taurus, and with the opposite sign Scorpio for my Ascendent.
Fixed signs. That's the problem. Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, and Aquarius are the "fixed signs" in the zodiac, and I got the most fixed of the fixed signs as the major indicators in my natal chart. I like to say that my Scorpion personality is similar to the lyrics of an old hymnal, "I'm lak a tree that's planted by tha' water, I shall not be moved."
The aspects in my natal chart are weird. Of the 38 major and minor aspects in my chart, 33 of them are considered positive, and more than a few of them are really excellent. The negative aspects, as few as there are, are unequaled. When I'm bad, I'm very, very bad, and when I'm evil, I'm outrageous, and nobody can live with me or even stay friends very long.
At the risk of seeming insane, sometimes it's on purpose. There are times in my life I just have to be alone. Much of the time I have to be alone, the other times than that is just because I wanna. I don't like it very much, and I do get lonely infrequently, but shit happens, and thangs change. Selah
❦
Friday, February 25, 2011
Freedom Is Slavery
☙
It was not too strange that I forgot that one of the e-mail discussion groups I was subscribed to is moderated. The odd thing is that I was invited to join the group, and the first time I posted it was obvious that I was being moderated, so I changed my subscription to No Mail.
I forgot about being on that list for a while, and then posted something today. Then, when I realized my post didn't appear on the group's home page I realized that I was still being moderated and unsubbed. The dude who runs the group seems to have created it just to sell his books. I should have realized it was a commercial site.
Nobody seems to be using e-mail to discuss anything anymore. It has been dwindling for some time now in all the groups I'm subscribed to. Maybe they've changed over to a new medium, but I suspect not even that. The groups I've belong to are listed to have thousands of members, but for a long time not many of the people subscribed actually participate and write to contribute to whatever conversation is going on.
It pains me to think about doing what I gotta do to put some money together so that I can move to a more private place to live. I don't know where to go for that to happen. Renting property and being under somebody else's authority seems like it would be the opposite of what used to be pleasant here for me.
The military helicopters are back again. I didn't think they'd be gone long. They've taken over the local airport to play their war games. It surprised me a little the other day to hear Obama self-righteously talking down to the Libyan guy for having all those people killed. He has professional killers all over the world killing innocent people by the hundreds of thousands.
Somehow I intuited that when the draft was eliminated and the Army was changed to where they only had volunteer professionals in the military that it was a major shift in policy that did not bode well for the great unwashed.
The politicos don't have wars to protect the nation anymore, but to carry out their whimsical political doctrines of capitalism. Maybe that's the way it's been all along and I've just been blind to the truth of what's going on. Nothing new about that. Why am I always the last to know?
❦
It was not too strange that I forgot that one of the e-mail discussion groups I was subscribed to is moderated. The odd thing is that I was invited to join the group, and the first time I posted it was obvious that I was being moderated, so I changed my subscription to No Mail.
I forgot about being on that list for a while, and then posted something today. Then, when I realized my post didn't appear on the group's home page I realized that I was still being moderated and unsubbed. The dude who runs the group seems to have created it just to sell his books. I should have realized it was a commercial site.
Nobody seems to be using e-mail to discuss anything anymore. It has been dwindling for some time now in all the groups I'm subscribed to. Maybe they've changed over to a new medium, but I suspect not even that. The groups I've belong to are listed to have thousands of members, but for a long time not many of the people subscribed actually participate and write to contribute to whatever conversation is going on.
It pains me to think about doing what I gotta do to put some money together so that I can move to a more private place to live. I don't know where to go for that to happen. Renting property and being under somebody else's authority seems like it would be the opposite of what used to be pleasant here for me.
The military helicopters are back again. I didn't think they'd be gone long. They've taken over the local airport to play their war games. It surprised me a little the other day to hear Obama self-righteously talking down to the Libyan guy for having all those people killed. He has professional killers all over the world killing innocent people by the hundreds of thousands.
Somehow I intuited that when the draft was eliminated and the Army was changed to where they only had volunteer professionals in the military that it was a major shift in policy that did not bode well for the great unwashed.
The politicos don't have wars to protect the nation anymore, but to carry out their whimsical political doctrines of capitalism. Maybe that's the way it's been all along and I've just been blind to the truth of what's going on. Nothing new about that. Why am I always the last to know?
❦
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Sarcasm As Humor
☙
Oh, how I'd like to get my personal privacy back. So many weird people come to visit my brother's brother-in-law next door that use my driveway to come find him, I'm beginning to wish he'd go ahead and die from his cancer so I can get my life back. I got strange ghouls with bad mufflers on their junky cars looking to ravage his belonging driving up to my house looking for stuff to steal.
It makes me feel vulnerable for no fault of my own. Or, maybe it is. According to this logic I'm probably responsible for the Tunisian revolt, but I don't even know any Muslim dictators and rulers-for-life that have people murdered as a convenience. The world is going to hell in a handbasket.
It's warm again today, and the seven-day forecast presupposes that the days are gonna be warm with cool nights. That's nice. It'll be too nice later on when it gets hot. I'll have to run the air-conditioner at night and it's noisy.
I'm beginning to regret using the Neurophone to learn to hear through my skin. The audiologist at the VA claims that I'm legally deaf, and sometime it would be convenient if I were. At least the Army helicopters have stopped playing war games two hundred yards away from my house for 6-8 hours a day, six days a week. For now, anyway, they'll be back.
That's why I'd really like to have a windfall. To make moving to some place I could have some auditory and physical privacy. Even if the brother-in-law does die or moves back to his own house there will be more people coming to stay there for whatever reasons they invent to show how generous and giving they are. Aquarians. What a drag their need for importance can be if you're kin to them.
The glass flute I bought fell off my desk because it's round and broke. The paper that came with it claimed the maker would send another one, but I'm too clumsy now with the arthritic hands, so why bother? At least I'm still about to play the scales on my digital piano. I'm getting faster, and now I'm including some arpeggios to boot.
Just like my teaching myself to play the scales, ripping off the arpeggios will probably take some time to bring them up to some degree of effortlessness and speed. To what end is still the question for me. Why am I doing something like this just because I promised myself I would? I'm never gonna learn to actually play songs, much less compose any like I used to with the guitar.
The stress of having to unnecessarily deal with other people's problems is getting through to me. I gotta do something to calm down. I know what to do, but I'm deliberately not doing it. Maybe I've decided to go crazy again. As silly as that sounds it might be the only solution to being duped by my kinfolk.
❦
Oh, how I'd like to get my personal privacy back. So many weird people come to visit my brother's brother-in-law next door that use my driveway to come find him, I'm beginning to wish he'd go ahead and die from his cancer so I can get my life back. I got strange ghouls with bad mufflers on their junky cars looking to ravage his belonging driving up to my house looking for stuff to steal.
It makes me feel vulnerable for no fault of my own. Or, maybe it is. According to this logic I'm probably responsible for the Tunisian revolt, but I don't even know any Muslim dictators and rulers-for-life that have people murdered as a convenience. The world is going to hell in a handbasket.
It's warm again today, and the seven-day forecast presupposes that the days are gonna be warm with cool nights. That's nice. It'll be too nice later on when it gets hot. I'll have to run the air-conditioner at night and it's noisy.
I'm beginning to regret using the Neurophone to learn to hear through my skin. The audiologist at the VA claims that I'm legally deaf, and sometime it would be convenient if I were. At least the Army helicopters have stopped playing war games two hundred yards away from my house for 6-8 hours a day, six days a week. For now, anyway, they'll be back.
That's why I'd really like to have a windfall. To make moving to some place I could have some auditory and physical privacy. Even if the brother-in-law does die or moves back to his own house there will be more people coming to stay there for whatever reasons they invent to show how generous and giving they are. Aquarians. What a drag their need for importance can be if you're kin to them.
The glass flute I bought fell off my desk because it's round and broke. The paper that came with it claimed the maker would send another one, but I'm too clumsy now with the arthritic hands, so why bother? At least I'm still about to play the scales on my digital piano. I'm getting faster, and now I'm including some arpeggios to boot.
Just like my teaching myself to play the scales, ripping off the arpeggios will probably take some time to bring them up to some degree of effortlessness and speed. To what end is still the question for me. Why am I doing something like this just because I promised myself I would? I'm never gonna learn to actually play songs, much less compose any like I used to with the guitar.
The stress of having to unnecessarily deal with other people's problems is getting through to me. I gotta do something to calm down. I know what to do, but I'm deliberately not doing it. Maybe I've decided to go crazy again. As silly as that sounds it might be the only solution to being duped by my kinfolk.
❦
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Free At Last
☙
Last night I got very excited while casually watching a ScienceNow PBS program. The host, who is just another science drama queen like Bill Nye, the science guy, is fairly obnoxious, but not as much as the rest of the crap shows I get with my over-the-air TV reception. The part of the program that excited me featured some professor at SUNY named Andre Fenton.
This guy came to his conclusions by resorting to the same experiences I went to like using a float tank and psychedelic drugs, but unlike me, he got a PHD in biochemistry and proved that the genetic system contains the contents I have written about in describing my "remembering vision".
I'm real pleased he did that. Now I don't have to try to convince anybody else or myself that what I experienced was quite real. On the other hand, I don't get the idea that he actually saw what I saw in my remembering vision, but he hardly had a chance to explain himself. That might take time away from the drama queen host who reminds me of Pinky Lee.
It's not like I'm surprised I'm letting this pass without much commentary. Just this last week I seemed to have reached a decision to not go there anymore. Last night at the height of my excitement I told myself I'd sleep on it and write about it here today to see what comes out, but these are not drifting thoughts I need to capture with words anymore due to the work of Andre Fenton, who made my experience scientific fact.
It's a good thing the temperature went back down. After all, there is still another month and a few days until Spring. It got down to around freezing which reminded me that cold actually means cold. Damn!
I worked on my bed last night. The two inch (5 cm) memory foam pad I bought lifted the overall height of my mattress surface such that the covers were pressing down on my toes when I lay on my back. The rheumatoid arthritis in my foot bones don't appreciate that, and I had to raise the jury-rigged chipboard thingamajig I built to get those covers off my afflicted parts.
It wasn't a Herculean task. The bedstead is about a hundred years old, and was probably the cheapest thing on the market when it's previous owners bought it. I lifted it up a couple of inches and used some metal screws to keep it there.
When I put clean sheets on the bed and got the covers back on, I felt good that I'd stopped to do something that really needed doing. That doesn't happen as often as my critics like it, but since my critics are often imaginary, it's not that much of a burden to bear.
My brother and his wife went out of town for a couple days and I've had to inspire myself to do the walking we've been doing together. I haven't been that eager to do it. I get plenty of exercise just going up and down the stairs to get my household chores done.
Merely making coffee and a couple of meals a day might take twenty round trips up and down those sixteen steps. One of the reason I keep my computer upstairs in my bedroom is to force me to use the stairs to do about any task. My brother and I use our natural sibling rivalry to push ourselves to walk further and faster than either of us would do alone.
People in general get mad at me for being so slow. I try to explain that I was born when the Sun and Moon were in the astrology sign Taurus, and the central keyword for Taurus is "inertia". Being born at sunset makes my Ascendent sign Scorpio, and it's fixedness doesn't help when it's associated with Taurus.
The only quick thing about me is that the planet Mercury, which represents the mind, is in the sign Aries. That helped a lot in amateur boxing. My hands were deceptively fast. I used to lumber out to the center of the ring giving the impression that I was gawky, and then knock my opponents out with my quick hands. Well, one guy I outpointed, but he didn't look pretty at the end.
The anticipation I feel for my next birthday sort of surprises me. Astrologically, it's a big deal turning 72 years old (if I should live another two months), As I've written before, it represents the third puberty. The first one was physical, the second one mental, and this one represents a spiritual puberty in which humans matriculate into spiritual power.
The actual time for that has already passed. It happened soon after I was seventy-one, but seventy-two is such a nice, neat number that I'm waiting until then to take this whole deal serious. I hope that it provides me with better understanding when the world ends next year.
❦
Last night I got very excited while casually watching a ScienceNow PBS program. The host, who is just another science drama queen like Bill Nye, the science guy, is fairly obnoxious, but not as much as the rest of the crap shows I get with my over-the-air TV reception. The part of the program that excited me featured some professor at SUNY named Andre Fenton.
This guy came to his conclusions by resorting to the same experiences I went to like using a float tank and psychedelic drugs, but unlike me, he got a PHD in biochemistry and proved that the genetic system contains the contents I have written about in describing my "remembering vision".
I'm real pleased he did that. Now I don't have to try to convince anybody else or myself that what I experienced was quite real. On the other hand, I don't get the idea that he actually saw what I saw in my remembering vision, but he hardly had a chance to explain himself. That might take time away from the drama queen host who reminds me of Pinky Lee.
It's not like I'm surprised I'm letting this pass without much commentary. Just this last week I seemed to have reached a decision to not go there anymore. Last night at the height of my excitement I told myself I'd sleep on it and write about it here today to see what comes out, but these are not drifting thoughts I need to capture with words anymore due to the work of Andre Fenton, who made my experience scientific fact.
It's a good thing the temperature went back down. After all, there is still another month and a few days until Spring. It got down to around freezing which reminded me that cold actually means cold. Damn!
I worked on my bed last night. The two inch (5 cm) memory foam pad I bought lifted the overall height of my mattress surface such that the covers were pressing down on my toes when I lay on my back. The rheumatoid arthritis in my foot bones don't appreciate that, and I had to raise the jury-rigged chipboard thingamajig I built to get those covers off my afflicted parts.
It wasn't a Herculean task. The bedstead is about a hundred years old, and was probably the cheapest thing on the market when it's previous owners bought it. I lifted it up a couple of inches and used some metal screws to keep it there.
When I put clean sheets on the bed and got the covers back on, I felt good that I'd stopped to do something that really needed doing. That doesn't happen as often as my critics like it, but since my critics are often imaginary, it's not that much of a burden to bear.
My brother and his wife went out of town for a couple days and I've had to inspire myself to do the walking we've been doing together. I haven't been that eager to do it. I get plenty of exercise just going up and down the stairs to get my household chores done.
Merely making coffee and a couple of meals a day might take twenty round trips up and down those sixteen steps. One of the reason I keep my computer upstairs in my bedroom is to force me to use the stairs to do about any task. My brother and I use our natural sibling rivalry to push ourselves to walk further and faster than either of us would do alone.
People in general get mad at me for being so slow. I try to explain that I was born when the Sun and Moon were in the astrology sign Taurus, and the central keyword for Taurus is "inertia". Being born at sunset makes my Ascendent sign Scorpio, and it's fixedness doesn't help when it's associated with Taurus.
The only quick thing about me is that the planet Mercury, which represents the mind, is in the sign Aries. That helped a lot in amateur boxing. My hands were deceptively fast. I used to lumber out to the center of the ring giving the impression that I was gawky, and then knock my opponents out with my quick hands. Well, one guy I outpointed, but he didn't look pretty at the end.
The anticipation I feel for my next birthday sort of surprises me. Astrologically, it's a big deal turning 72 years old (if I should live another two months), As I've written before, it represents the third puberty. The first one was physical, the second one mental, and this one represents a spiritual puberty in which humans matriculate into spiritual power.
The actual time for that has already passed. It happened soon after I was seventy-one, but seventy-two is such a nice, neat number that I'm waiting until then to take this whole deal serious. I hope that it provides me with better understanding when the world ends next year.
❦
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
My Assurance Phone Doesn't Work
☙
Fortunately or no, I didn't get drunk last night like I wrote I would, but I eventually got to sleep fairly well, and slept until around nine o'clock this morning. That hasn't happened for a couple of nights. I hardly ever have trouble with insomnia, but infrequently I do. I got a fair idea of why, but it is just speculation. Not sleeping well has a tendency to mess with my mind.
Sometime I get so disgusted when some crap I cook isn't even passable. The use of spices helps, but the stuff I cooked last night was ruined by my use of spices. I guess I have a tendency to overdo it sometime. When will I win millions and millions in the lottery and have enough money to hire a cook.
One of the biggest problems I have cooking currently is the diet I've chosen for myself. Basically this "diet" consists of me not eating gluten and dairy products. I am not sure why, but my reasoning is that something I'm eating is causing me problems and the other "diets" I've indulged don't seem to have helped.
Not eating meat doesn't help at all. I've done enough of that to know it's not helping me, although I assume from reading other people's testimonies that it does help other people. It depends on a person's genetics maybe. My father was a prize-winning cattle breeder. We had steak to eat even when we had nothing else. He lived to be 88 years old and my mother lived to be 93 years old.
This Assurance phone I got for free because I'm so poor doesn't work. I call the number from my old touch-tone phone and it sends my call to voice mail, and then when I call voice mail over the cell phone to get my own message it tells me I'm not connected to the network. What a drag, man.
Maybe it's just me. I've never had a cell phone before. I probably ain't doing it right. It's not like it matters, but I wouldn't trust it for my home phone if I can't even pick up the network from here. The people who sent it to me seem concerned that it doesn't work for me, but they're in India. What good is that?
❦
Fortunately or no, I didn't get drunk last night like I wrote I would, but I eventually got to sleep fairly well, and slept until around nine o'clock this morning. That hasn't happened for a couple of nights. I hardly ever have trouble with insomnia, but infrequently I do. I got a fair idea of why, but it is just speculation. Not sleeping well has a tendency to mess with my mind.
Sometime I get so disgusted when some crap I cook isn't even passable. The use of spices helps, but the stuff I cooked last night was ruined by my use of spices. I guess I have a tendency to overdo it sometime. When will I win millions and millions in the lottery and have enough money to hire a cook.
One of the biggest problems I have cooking currently is the diet I've chosen for myself. Basically this "diet" consists of me not eating gluten and dairy products. I am not sure why, but my reasoning is that something I'm eating is causing me problems and the other "diets" I've indulged don't seem to have helped.
Not eating meat doesn't help at all. I've done enough of that to know it's not helping me, although I assume from reading other people's testimonies that it does help other people. It depends on a person's genetics maybe. My father was a prize-winning cattle breeder. We had steak to eat even when we had nothing else. He lived to be 88 years old and my mother lived to be 93 years old.
This Assurance phone I got for free because I'm so poor doesn't work. I call the number from my old touch-tone phone and it sends my call to voice mail, and then when I call voice mail over the cell phone to get my own message it tells me I'm not connected to the network. What a drag, man.
Maybe it's just me. I've never had a cell phone before. I probably ain't doing it right. It's not like it matters, but I wouldn't trust it for my home phone if I can't even pick up the network from here. The people who sent it to me seem concerned that it doesn't work for me, but they're in India. What good is that?
❦
Monday, February 21, 2011
The World Has Gone Crazy
❧
"It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world. '-) The news from the mideast is astounding. Frankly, before all this rioting I had no clue these disposed leaders had been running these countries as dictatorships to the degree that has been revealed. The term "tribal" came up a lot.
Why these Arabs hate the Jews so much has always been a mystery to me. Apparently it comes down to tribalism. Not just the Jews and the Arabs, but all the Old World seems to base most of the wars they have there as tribal wars. I don't think the tribal life can last much longer, but whatta I know?
I must have gone back to insanity. I bought some KY Jelly and made silver colloids in it in the same way as I do with distilled water. It turned black. I smeared it on the sore spots on my hands to see if it was kill me. It hasn't yet, but I gotta feeling it's not going to get me the same results I got with Silverdene. For one thing, its not painful like Silverdene is.
It's not been a bad day. I just don't remember what I got up for. I'm drinking cheap burgundy, as usual, and kicking it off with an occasional swig of coconut flavored vodka. I haven't been drunk for years, but I may get there tonight.
❦
"It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world. '-) The news from the mideast is astounding. Frankly, before all this rioting I had no clue these disposed leaders had been running these countries as dictatorships to the degree that has been revealed. The term "tribal" came up a lot.
Why these Arabs hate the Jews so much has always been a mystery to me. Apparently it comes down to tribalism. Not just the Jews and the Arabs, but all the Old World seems to base most of the wars they have there as tribal wars. I don't think the tribal life can last much longer, but whatta I know?
I must have gone back to insanity. I bought some KY Jelly and made silver colloids in it in the same way as I do with distilled water. It turned black. I smeared it on the sore spots on my hands to see if it was kill me. It hasn't yet, but I gotta feeling it's not going to get me the same results I got with Silverdene. For one thing, its not painful like Silverdene is.
It's not been a bad day. I just don't remember what I got up for. I'm drinking cheap burgundy, as usual, and kicking it off with an occasional swig of coconut flavored vodka. I haven't been drunk for years, but I may get there tonight.
❦
Sunday, February 20, 2011
A Pearl Of Great Price
❧
It's a fact that I haven't been sleeping well lately. I think a lot of it has to do with exercising by walking a few miles with my youngest brother at night and getting myself so physically energized just before I go to bed. But, my brother has a family to attend to, and a business to run, presently he's the president of the local Rotary Club, and late at night is the only time he seems to have to do it. Walking with my brother is much more challenging than doing it alone as I have been. It's fueled by sibling rivalry for both of us, so I gratefully live with it.
Last night I stayed up to watch SNL. It was another rerun, and designed to appeal to a much younger crowd. I wasn't all that young when the show got started, and my watching it anymore is merely a habit, and my like of satellite or cable TV to provide other options.
The saying below is from the Gospel of Thomas. Surprisingly, the slack moderator of the group I subscribe to sent out the saying with several translations provided by a different group than before she took over by force, so I don't know the source. I just picked one and started writing about four in the morning. When I finished, I edited it a little bit, and hit the Send button. I got up around ten this morning and read what I'd written, for all practical purposes while I was half asleep and very tired. Jesus was speaking to his followers.
[GoT]
(76) Jesus said, "The kingdom of the father is like a merchant who had a consignment of merchandise and who discovered a pearl. That merchant was shrewd. He sold the merchandise and bought the pearl alone for himself. You too, seek his unfailing and enduring treasure where no moth comes near to devour and no worm destroys."
[My comments]
I discovered what I've been calling a pearl since 1970. Long before personal computers and anything like the internet came along. I thought that eventually I would meet some people who had found the same thing. I knew all along it wasn't something specific to me. There were other events that happened to me in the same manner I discovered the pearl, previous to the vision in which I realized that the pearl was me.
Nobody much believed me. I didn't realize how people would react to me telling what happened. Socially, it would have been better socially if I had been more discreet. What I didn't realize so much was that other people, in general, hadn't read about stuff like this happening to regular people. I did not grasp for a long time that I did much more reading than your average bear, and was therefore more familiar with what other people did from the many, many stories I read and kenned.
People shied away from me because they didn't comprehend how deeply life can be understood if they were brave enough to give up everything most people do understand, for topics that appeared, for the most part, well beyond their reach or interest. Some were flattered that I thought they could open themselves to something different than what their caretakers felt was socially correct.
The truth was that I didn't think they were exceptional as much as I thought everybody could and should break away to seek their own path with heart. This made them feel special around me, but not when they talked with others. When they acted the way they decided for themselves in front of their friends and acquaintances, their acquaintances questioned their judgment and asked them where they learned to act and think that way. When they found out it was from me, they were frequently warned to stay away from people like me because I was "not right". They figured they would be crazy to challenge the beliefs of their friends and family, and so I was crazy for doing that too. No blame.
People still protect people from me and my kind. They tell them something is wrong with me, and that they should stay away from people like me. Nothing has changed over the years. I used to get lonely because I couldn't return to some conventional way of regarding the world. A world I'd never really been a conventional part of since puberty.
I had to believe in myself and my own vision. If I didn't believe in my visions, I couldn't go on discovering my true being. For many, that really wasn't possible. That seems to be my only choice. I could kill myself for not fitting in or just keep on keeping on. I had a problem killing myself. I don't see anything wrong with it. It just didn't work out. Something would happen to stop me from doing it even though I tried several times in different ways. Each time murdering myself didn't work, I blamed myself by thinking I hadn't really tried.
I try not to encourage people to seek for their own pearl anymore. I don't know what it takes for others to reach beyond what they've had to be to survive. I don't know what I did to get the visions I received, but whatever it was, it ain't always been pretty. It terrifies them to imagine giving up the identity that was provided for them as children.
There really is no blame for being afraid. When they tried to beat the odds (and most have at some point in their lives), they often became much afraid. They shut down and desperately reached with all their might to be the kind of person they were taught to be. Then, to compensate for showing interest, loudly denounced me, and claimed I'd hurt them and acted irresponsibly by letting them imitate me. Nobody's perfect. '-)
❦
It's a fact that I haven't been sleeping well lately. I think a lot of it has to do with exercising by walking a few miles with my youngest brother at night and getting myself so physically energized just before I go to bed. But, my brother has a family to attend to, and a business to run, presently he's the president of the local Rotary Club, and late at night is the only time he seems to have to do it. Walking with my brother is much more challenging than doing it alone as I have been. It's fueled by sibling rivalry for both of us, so I gratefully live with it.
Last night I stayed up to watch SNL. It was another rerun, and designed to appeal to a much younger crowd. I wasn't all that young when the show got started, and my watching it anymore is merely a habit, and my like of satellite or cable TV to provide other options.
The saying below is from the Gospel of Thomas. Surprisingly, the slack moderator of the group I subscribe to sent out the saying with several translations provided by a different group than before she took over by force, so I don't know the source. I just picked one and started writing about four in the morning. When I finished, I edited it a little bit, and hit the Send button. I got up around ten this morning and read what I'd written, for all practical purposes while I was half asleep and very tired. Jesus was speaking to his followers.
[GoT]
(76) Jesus said, "The kingdom of the father is like a merchant who had a consignment of merchandise and who discovered a pearl. That merchant was shrewd. He sold the merchandise and bought the pearl alone for himself. You too, seek his unfailing and enduring treasure where no moth comes near to devour and no worm destroys."
[My comments]
I discovered what I've been calling a pearl since 1970. Long before personal computers and anything like the internet came along. I thought that eventually I would meet some people who had found the same thing. I knew all along it wasn't something specific to me. There were other events that happened to me in the same manner I discovered the pearl, previous to the vision in which I realized that the pearl was me.
Nobody much believed me. I didn't realize how people would react to me telling what happened. Socially, it would have been better socially if I had been more discreet. What I didn't realize so much was that other people, in general, hadn't read about stuff like this happening to regular people. I did not grasp for a long time that I did much more reading than your average bear, and was therefore more familiar with what other people did from the many, many stories I read and kenned.
People shied away from me because they didn't comprehend how deeply life can be understood if they were brave enough to give up everything most people do understand, for topics that appeared, for the most part, well beyond their reach or interest. Some were flattered that I thought they could open themselves to something different than what their caretakers felt was socially correct.
The truth was that I didn't think they were exceptional as much as I thought everybody could and should break away to seek their own path with heart. This made them feel special around me, but not when they talked with others. When they acted the way they decided for themselves in front of their friends and acquaintances, their acquaintances questioned their judgment and asked them where they learned to act and think that way. When they found out it was from me, they were frequently warned to stay away from people like me because I was "not right". They figured they would be crazy to challenge the beliefs of their friends and family, and so I was crazy for doing that too. No blame.
People still protect people from me and my kind. They tell them something is wrong with me, and that they should stay away from people like me. Nothing has changed over the years. I used to get lonely because I couldn't return to some conventional way of regarding the world. A world I'd never really been a conventional part of since puberty.
I had to believe in myself and my own vision. If I didn't believe in my visions, I couldn't go on discovering my true being. For many, that really wasn't possible. That seems to be my only choice. I could kill myself for not fitting in or just keep on keeping on. I had a problem killing myself. I don't see anything wrong with it. It just didn't work out. Something would happen to stop me from doing it even though I tried several times in different ways. Each time murdering myself didn't work, I blamed myself by thinking I hadn't really tried.
I try not to encourage people to seek for their own pearl anymore. I don't know what it takes for others to reach beyond what they've had to be to survive. I don't know what I did to get the visions I received, but whatever it was, it ain't always been pretty. It terrifies them to imagine giving up the identity that was provided for them as children.
There really is no blame for being afraid. When they tried to beat the odds (and most have at some point in their lives), they often became much afraid. They shut down and desperately reached with all their might to be the kind of person they were taught to be. Then, to compensate for showing interest, loudly denounced me, and claimed I'd hurt them and acted irresponsibly by letting them imitate me. Nobody's perfect. '-)
❦
Saturday, February 19, 2011
My Assurance Cell Phone Now Works
❧
Eating crow is by definition not any fun at all. I guess I have to do that in relation to my rant about my new cell phone. I couldn't get it to work, and so I wrote some negative stuff about their intentions. Today I got a phone call on my regular house phone from them, and after going through the "Press One/Press Two" dealio, I talked to a nice lady from India who spoke excellent English compared to the previous agents.
After having to go through the process several times (because the battery on my phone was low and it kept rebooting itself), she talked me through the initiating process. We finally set things right, and it seems to work now.
This is the first cell phone or mobile phone I've ever had. The reasoning has nothing to do with not accepting new technology, I've got a phobia about using telephones of any sort. There is a learning curve I'll have to endure to get the idea of using cell phones down pat. For one thing, I'll have to learn about keeping the battery charged so it will do right when I try to use it.
Having a phone with me when I leave the house will surely be a completely different experience than I'm used to ere now. I plan to eventually get a smartphone that has GSP and internet capabilities, but this phone will do to get me over the hump with the mobility it offers.
It's another fairly warm day. Not as warm as yesterday when the temperature got up almost to 80° (2.667° C), but warm enough for me to lay out in the sun practically naked for an hour or so. That was nice.
The world seems to have gone crazy. Maybe it's the Sun flares. Who knows. Riots for all kinds of reasons, and I suspect it's gonna get worse. The six o'clock news reports about all the individual states declaring they are broke and have to lay off a bunch of teachers and state workers by the thousands.
They must be heart-broken. The security of a government job is why a lot of them aimed for the jobs they going to have to leave. There is a lot of hard feelings toward the politicians who seem to care less as long as they get their check. A check many of them don't need because they were already rich.
I was really surprised the last time I checked the program that keeps up with how many visitors I get on the site. In the last 3-4 months the subscriptions has quadrupled. Thanks!
❦
Eating crow is by definition not any fun at all. I guess I have to do that in relation to my rant about my new cell phone. I couldn't get it to work, and so I wrote some negative stuff about their intentions. Today I got a phone call on my regular house phone from them, and after going through the "Press One/Press Two" dealio, I talked to a nice lady from India who spoke excellent English compared to the previous agents.
After having to go through the process several times (because the battery on my phone was low and it kept rebooting itself), she talked me through the initiating process. We finally set things right, and it seems to work now.
This is the first cell phone or mobile phone I've ever had. The reasoning has nothing to do with not accepting new technology, I've got a phobia about using telephones of any sort. There is a learning curve I'll have to endure to get the idea of using cell phones down pat. For one thing, I'll have to learn about keeping the battery charged so it will do right when I try to use it.
Having a phone with me when I leave the house will surely be a completely different experience than I'm used to ere now. I plan to eventually get a smartphone that has GSP and internet capabilities, but this phone will do to get me over the hump with the mobility it offers.
It's another fairly warm day. Not as warm as yesterday when the temperature got up almost to 80° (2.667° C), but warm enough for me to lay out in the sun practically naked for an hour or so. That was nice.
The world seems to have gone crazy. Maybe it's the Sun flares. Who knows. Riots for all kinds of reasons, and I suspect it's gonna get worse. The six o'clock news reports about all the individual states declaring they are broke and have to lay off a bunch of teachers and state workers by the thousands.
They must be heart-broken. The security of a government job is why a lot of them aimed for the jobs they going to have to leave. There is a lot of hard feelings toward the politicians who seem to care less as long as they get their check. A check many of them don't need because they were already rich.
I was really surprised the last time I checked the program that keeps up with how many visitors I get on the site. In the last 3-4 months the subscriptions has quadrupled. Thanks!
❦
Friday, February 18, 2011
Why Am I Always The Last To Know?
❧
The old mattress pad on my bed finally give up the ghost when the foam it was made of ripped when I attempted to straighten it as I changed the sheets. I bought an expensive new one made of memory foam. I had a choice of two thicknesses. One was maybe two and a half inches (6.35 cm), which I bought, and four inches (10.16 cm), which I probably should hae bought.
Previous to my buying this mattress topper I had bought a pillow made of memory foam, and I was really impressed how it lived up to it's hype. That's why I bought the mattress pad of memory foam. After I had used it a few delightful nights I realized that the mattress pad raised the height of my mattress overall, and it compromised the changes I induced six months ago, I gotta change that for reasons I finally understand better.
The changes I made half a year ago were very primitive. If I lived with a woman they might not have been possible without spending a lotta money. The problem I remedied (my plan worked) was that the covers on my bed weighted too heavily on my toes, and they only got relief when I slept on my side or belly.
At the foot of my used bed (my oldest daughter's former in-laws bed that was replaced by a new bed their children bought them [such will never happen to me]), I cut a 3/4" piece of chip-wood board that set across the sideboards and it was designed to raise the covers of the bed higher than my toes when laying on my back.
Doing that meant that I had to put the covers at the foot of the bed over the top of the chip-wood board, and that meant I had to have a way to keep those covers in place without them falling down around my feet. This is the part where my project really looks crappy.
To keep the covers atop the chipboard I cut a two by four to the width of the bed and clamped the covers to the chip-wood with the two by four with wood clamps. It works, but I gotta come up with a better design. The wood clamps stick out about a foot or more and are easy to run into or get poked with.
The problem the new mattress pad introduced was that it caused my toes to be two and a half inches higher. The primary solution I have for this is to raise the chip-wood board the same amount, and then bolt it to the bedstead with wood screws. That will take care of the height of the covers above my toes and feet, but it doesn't get rid of the wood clamps that keep the two by four tight against the covers to hold them in place.
There is a better way to do this, but I'd have to buy longer bed covers. all that's needed is a sturdy piece of aluminum that would fit in between the mattress and innersprings with a 90 degree turn upward high enough to lift the bed covers up in the same manner my jury-rigged dealio does.
There is a huge reason for this. I didn't actually understand until I woke up early this morning and couldn't go back to sleep. I may not have psoriasis at all on my feet. The sores on my toes, especially on my second toe next to my big toe, might simply be fabric burns instead of psoriasis. Like the rug burns obtained by having sex on the floor. Literally that.
My second toes are longer than my big toes. On top, they stick up higher than the top of my big toes. When I toss and turn at night they get rubbed by the bed covers. Different fabric. Same result. I sorta realized I hadn't allowed for this buying shoes. So, instead of buying size 12 shoes, I bought size 13.
I went through all this early this morning in a semi-dream state to realize consciously for the first time why the sores on the top of my second and big toes did not react all bubbly to the hydrogen peroxide, and did to the prescription medicine Silverdene. The Silverdene is used mostly for burns.
The outlook for my general health might be a little better now. I got the flu shot yesterday. The silver colloids I'm using internally and externally seems to be doing some good also. The sores I had on my hands are all about dried up and seem to be disappearing altogether. I'm pretty sure I still haven't achieved immortality. I'm still gonna get sick of something and quite definitely croak eventually.
Yesterday seem to be a day for finding even more examples of how stress causes a lot of illnesses. A TV program about how the stress new mothers go through is probably the worst stress they will experience for the rest of their lives. Men get bald because of stress. I'm not sure I really know how I can consciously detect the stress my body is experiencing, but I'm figuring I damned sure better find out... and take steps!
The withdrawal of the redness and sores on my hands in approximately two days seems a little miraculous, but not all that unusual. All I've ever wanted or prayed/preyed for is understanding, and if and when it arrives; shit happens, and thangs change. '-)
❦
The old mattress pad on my bed finally give up the ghost when the foam it was made of ripped when I attempted to straighten it as I changed the sheets. I bought an expensive new one made of memory foam. I had a choice of two thicknesses. One was maybe two and a half inches (6.35 cm), which I bought, and four inches (10.16 cm), which I probably should hae bought.
Previous to my buying this mattress topper I had bought a pillow made of memory foam, and I was really impressed how it lived up to it's hype. That's why I bought the mattress pad of memory foam. After I had used it a few delightful nights I realized that the mattress pad raised the height of my mattress overall, and it compromised the changes I induced six months ago, I gotta change that for reasons I finally understand better.
The changes I made half a year ago were very primitive. If I lived with a woman they might not have been possible without spending a lotta money. The problem I remedied (my plan worked) was that the covers on my bed weighted too heavily on my toes, and they only got relief when I slept on my side or belly.
At the foot of my used bed (my oldest daughter's former in-laws bed that was replaced by a new bed their children bought them [such will never happen to me]), I cut a 3/4" piece of chip-wood board that set across the sideboards and it was designed to raise the covers of the bed higher than my toes when laying on my back.
Doing that meant that I had to put the covers at the foot of the bed over the top of the chip-wood board, and that meant I had to have a way to keep those covers in place without them falling down around my feet. This is the part where my project really looks crappy.
To keep the covers atop the chipboard I cut a two by four to the width of the bed and clamped the covers to the chip-wood with the two by four with wood clamps. It works, but I gotta come up with a better design. The wood clamps stick out about a foot or more and are easy to run into or get poked with.
The problem the new mattress pad introduced was that it caused my toes to be two and a half inches higher. The primary solution I have for this is to raise the chip-wood board the same amount, and then bolt it to the bedstead with wood screws. That will take care of the height of the covers above my toes and feet, but it doesn't get rid of the wood clamps that keep the two by four tight against the covers to hold them in place.
There is a better way to do this, but I'd have to buy longer bed covers. all that's needed is a sturdy piece of aluminum that would fit in between the mattress and innersprings with a 90 degree turn upward high enough to lift the bed covers up in the same manner my jury-rigged dealio does.
There is a huge reason for this. I didn't actually understand until I woke up early this morning and couldn't go back to sleep. I may not have psoriasis at all on my feet. The sores on my toes, especially on my second toe next to my big toe, might simply be fabric burns instead of psoriasis. Like the rug burns obtained by having sex on the floor. Literally that.
My second toes are longer than my big toes. On top, they stick up higher than the top of my big toes. When I toss and turn at night they get rubbed by the bed covers. Different fabric. Same result. I sorta realized I hadn't allowed for this buying shoes. So, instead of buying size 12 shoes, I bought size 13.
I went through all this early this morning in a semi-dream state to realize consciously for the first time why the sores on the top of my second and big toes did not react all bubbly to the hydrogen peroxide, and did to the prescription medicine Silverdene. The Silverdene is used mostly for burns.
The outlook for my general health might be a little better now. I got the flu shot yesterday. The silver colloids I'm using internally and externally seems to be doing some good also. The sores I had on my hands are all about dried up and seem to be disappearing altogether. I'm pretty sure I still haven't achieved immortality. I'm still gonna get sick of something and quite definitely croak eventually.
Yesterday seem to be a day for finding even more examples of how stress causes a lot of illnesses. A TV program about how the stress new mothers go through is probably the worst stress they will experience for the rest of their lives. Men get bald because of stress. I'm not sure I really know how I can consciously detect the stress my body is experiencing, but I'm figuring I damned sure better find out... and take steps!
The withdrawal of the redness and sores on my hands in approximately two days seems a little miraculous, but not all that unusual. All I've ever wanted or prayed/preyed for is understanding, and if and when it arrives; shit happens, and thangs change. '-)
❦
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Baldness Is Caused By Stress?
❧
Slow, expensive day. I really needed some shoes I can use for walking with them hurting my feet. My Crocs are really comfortable for messing around not doing anything strenuous, but walking two or three miles, and now jogging part of it, is another matter altogether. I bought some I thought might get the job done, went walking and jogged a little bit, and they seem to be okay. Time will tell.
The articles I read today about the new cure for baldness was extremely interesting to me. What I understood the research to say is that baldness is caused by stress. That was today. Yesterday an MD told me that the psoriasis is caused by stress, and maybe even arthritis.
Oddly, one of the first images that came to mind was the Transcendental Meditation guy, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, who had a beautiful head of hair. I just Googled him up and Wikipedia stated that he died in February of 2006 at the age of 94. I had no idea he was dead or that he lived that long. It might be interesting to find out if his bald adherents grew hair.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maharishi_Mahesh_Yogi
The temperature was in the mid-70s (20°-25° C) today. It's supposed to be as warm again tomorrow, but by the weekend it's dropping back down toward normal winter temperatures. Exciting... eh? I really don't have much to write about today. The news tonight was terrible. All the State budgets are going to hell and people are getting fired left and right.
Obama hasn't got us out of those stupid wars. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. He struts around like Mussolini, and he's a Leo. Apparently a conflicted Leo. Not good news for the country.
Yeah, I know. I did vote for him. I don't really regret it yet, but what worries me is realizing the U.S.Army runs the United States. The Commander-in-Chief is not in charge. This does not bode well for the home of the brave and the land of the free. This does not make me less tense. I have to get unstressed so that my hair will grow back. '-)
❦
Slow, expensive day. I really needed some shoes I can use for walking with them hurting my feet. My Crocs are really comfortable for messing around not doing anything strenuous, but walking two or three miles, and now jogging part of it, is another matter altogether. I bought some I thought might get the job done, went walking and jogged a little bit, and they seem to be okay. Time will tell.
The articles I read today about the new cure for baldness was extremely interesting to me. What I understood the research to say is that baldness is caused by stress. That was today. Yesterday an MD told me that the psoriasis is caused by stress, and maybe even arthritis.
Oddly, one of the first images that came to mind was the Transcendental Meditation guy, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, who had a beautiful head of hair. I just Googled him up and Wikipedia stated that he died in February of 2006 at the age of 94. I had no idea he was dead or that he lived that long. It might be interesting to find out if his bald adherents grew hair.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maharishi_Mahesh_Yogi
The temperature was in the mid-70s (20°-25° C) today. It's supposed to be as warm again tomorrow, but by the weekend it's dropping back down toward normal winter temperatures. Exciting... eh? I really don't have much to write about today. The news tonight was terrible. All the State budgets are going to hell and people are getting fired left and right.
Obama hasn't got us out of those stupid wars. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. He struts around like Mussolini, and he's a Leo. Apparently a conflicted Leo. Not good news for the country.
Yeah, I know. I did vote for him. I don't really regret it yet, but what worries me is realizing the U.S.Army runs the United States. The Commander-in-Chief is not in charge. This does not bode well for the home of the brave and the land of the free. This does not make me less tense. I have to get unstressed so that my hair will grow back. '-)
❦
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Cognitive Dissonance And Dancing Music
❧
Yesterday I received a response to a post I sent out to addresses in my Address.app that I haven't exchanged e-mail with for a while. I sent a photo of myself with the beard I removed soon after, and announced that i wasn't dead yet. Every person I sent my greeting to replied. That's pretty good in my opinion. I've had lots of e-mail addresses that are not active anymore. The only one that's active now is the gmail one.
The response I received yesterday was from this MD in Europe who has a website that uses Dutch for it's language. I don't know what his nationality is. Some people speak Flemish. Some speak French. Some speak German. Practically all of them are literate in English. I only have English. I'm probably lucky to have that.
My correspondent came right out and said that psoriasis is a result of cognitive resonance and isn't a real disease at all. Just a way of trying to armor myself with the crusted pustules that explode from my fingers and toes in the same manner as volcanoes. Psoriasis is a psychological condition caused by stress. That's very disturbing. At least I can give up attempting to get treatment from the medicos.
The silver colloids I'm using to deal with the sores may be working like i want them to, but it's hard to tell. I have a sample spot I'm checking it out on. It's a spot on the calve of my leg that a friend informed me was concerous. Three different MDs have told me not to worry about it, but it's there, and I worry about it.
I spray the colloids on my hands and toes and that one spot on my calf. Just for the hell of it I spray it on a birthmark on my forearm that's been there forever. I drink a little of it about everyday too. The only real sign anything is going on is that it makes me burp pretty good.
I slept late this morning, went out to lunch, came back and crawled in the bed again. I guess I took a four hour nap. If the reason I have these medical problems is due to stress, then I need to get rid of the stress.
It's warm today, and supposed to be even warmer tomorrow. I'm sitting here with the outside door wide open in my underpants and a t-shirt, and I'm not uncomfortable. I intend to start taking my walks barefooted. I haven't got any comfortable shoes. Before I spend the money to get some I'm gonna try reverting back to my childhood.
The route my brother and I take for walking is mostly dirt. We walk for about a hundred yards on the paved road, but the most of it is a sandy two-lane farm road and the driveway to our houses. I don't know how long it will take for my feets to toughen up, but they have to feel better than wearing ill-fitting shoes. I love my Crocs, but they just ain't getting it as far as walking two or three miles.
❦
Yesterday I received a response to a post I sent out to addresses in my Address.app that I haven't exchanged e-mail with for a while. I sent a photo of myself with the beard I removed soon after, and announced that i wasn't dead yet. Every person I sent my greeting to replied. That's pretty good in my opinion. I've had lots of e-mail addresses that are not active anymore. The only one that's active now is the gmail one.
The response I received yesterday was from this MD in Europe who has a website that uses Dutch for it's language. I don't know what his nationality is. Some people speak Flemish. Some speak French. Some speak German. Practically all of them are literate in English. I only have English. I'm probably lucky to have that.
My correspondent came right out and said that psoriasis is a result of cognitive resonance and isn't a real disease at all. Just a way of trying to armor myself with the crusted pustules that explode from my fingers and toes in the same manner as volcanoes. Psoriasis is a psychological condition caused by stress. That's very disturbing. At least I can give up attempting to get treatment from the medicos.
The silver colloids I'm using to deal with the sores may be working like i want them to, but it's hard to tell. I have a sample spot I'm checking it out on. It's a spot on the calve of my leg that a friend informed me was concerous. Three different MDs have told me not to worry about it, but it's there, and I worry about it.
I spray the colloids on my hands and toes and that one spot on my calf. Just for the hell of it I spray it on a birthmark on my forearm that's been there forever. I drink a little of it about everyday too. The only real sign anything is going on is that it makes me burp pretty good.
I slept late this morning, went out to lunch, came back and crawled in the bed again. I guess I took a four hour nap. If the reason I have these medical problems is due to stress, then I need to get rid of the stress.
It's warm today, and supposed to be even warmer tomorrow. I'm sitting here with the outside door wide open in my underpants and a t-shirt, and I'm not uncomfortable. I intend to start taking my walks barefooted. I haven't got any comfortable shoes. Before I spend the money to get some I'm gonna try reverting back to my childhood.
The route my brother and I take for walking is mostly dirt. We walk for about a hundred yards on the paved road, but the most of it is a sandy two-lane farm road and the driveway to our houses. I don't know how long it will take for my feets to toughen up, but they have to feel better than wearing ill-fitting shoes. I love my Crocs, but they just ain't getting it as far as walking two or three miles.
❦
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Love Lifteth Me Not
❧
In Oaxaca
there is warmth
and fresh grown
coffee and chokolat
It's there I sot
my unromantic
sights,
to never
make a morning pot
from second-hand
grounds
Why I fixate on Oaxaca I guess I'll never know. I've never been there. I'll probably never go. The closest I ever came to being there is Mexico City. I wrote the verse above this morning in response to a woman I once thought I knew. As usual I inflated her true worth to something she couldn't live up to and she imploded.
It is painful to realize she only used me to get to this point she has been to many times. I became just another fool to blame it on. This transmigration of her soul allows her to implode in order to abandon all the illusion she created to be something she is not nor could be. It's too late now to be beautiful and slim and a front page suffragette for false causes.
Now, it seems, she is like the love interest in the Forrest Gump movie. But, with no child to find a father for before she pays the ultimate price for her intentional sins. There is no joy in Muddville. Love did not lift her up.
Love has never really lifted me up either. Either that or it has lifted me to unrealistic heights at which even a fool like me can't measure up to his own expectations. Love has not filled me with some sublime ardor that forced me to be dependable as a proper mate. Love has never lifted me up to unselfishness, and allowed me to put others before myself.
"but, love is the one thing
I can't give away.
I can give of my body,
and the wealth of my mind
for the one thing
you're seeking to find.
But, the thing
that you're seeking
ain't found in no
answer...
and the questions
you ask...
are just the time of the day.
I can only imagine not being ultimately selfish after all is said and done. It may have been some insane, childish goal of mine to live an impoverished life and to die a miserable, unenvied death that leaves a bad taste in my nemeses' mouths. No matter what lies I tell myself and others to the contrary.
Yet, despite my noblest intentions, I never actually follow through and concede the direction of my life to another person for long. I still let them think that such a feat is possible, but only to see where they would take it unimpeded. I've let many a person knowingly play me for the fool they'd be if they were me. They're not. Maybe that's all they really need from me. To discover with no uncertainty that I'm not who they make me into for their sake.
Sometime I imagine myself to be the oak tree the poet lashed the lunatic to in G.K.Chesterton's tour de force, The Poet And The Lunatic, in order to prove to him that he was not God.
http://www.amazon.com/Poet-Lunatics-G-K-Chesterton/dp/0755100204
For a while after I read this insightful story, I thought I was the poet that would save the world from lunatics like me. Now I know that's not my place. I am is the immovable, but perishable object that forces people who think they have nothing to reconsider.
❦
In Oaxaca
there is warmth
and fresh grown
coffee and chokolat
It's there I sot
my unromantic
sights,
to never
make a morning pot
from second-hand
grounds
Why I fixate on Oaxaca I guess I'll never know. I've never been there. I'll probably never go. The closest I ever came to being there is Mexico City. I wrote the verse above this morning in response to a woman I once thought I knew. As usual I inflated her true worth to something she couldn't live up to and she imploded.
It is painful to realize she only used me to get to this point she has been to many times. I became just another fool to blame it on. This transmigration of her soul allows her to implode in order to abandon all the illusion she created to be something she is not nor could be. It's too late now to be beautiful and slim and a front page suffragette for false causes.
Now, it seems, she is like the love interest in the Forrest Gump movie. But, with no child to find a father for before she pays the ultimate price for her intentional sins. There is no joy in Muddville. Love did not lift her up.
Love has never really lifted me up either. Either that or it has lifted me to unrealistic heights at which even a fool like me can't measure up to his own expectations. Love has not filled me with some sublime ardor that forced me to be dependable as a proper mate. Love has never lifted me up to unselfishness, and allowed me to put others before myself.
"but, love is the one thing
I can't give away.
I can give of my body,
and the wealth of my mind
for the one thing
you're seeking to find.
But, the thing
that you're seeking
ain't found in no
answer...
and the questions
you ask...
are just the time of the day.
I can only imagine not being ultimately selfish after all is said and done. It may have been some insane, childish goal of mine to live an impoverished life and to die a miserable, unenvied death that leaves a bad taste in my nemeses' mouths. No matter what lies I tell myself and others to the contrary.
Yet, despite my noblest intentions, I never actually follow through and concede the direction of my life to another person for long. I still let them think that such a feat is possible, but only to see where they would take it unimpeded. I've let many a person knowingly play me for the fool they'd be if they were me. They're not. Maybe that's all they really need from me. To discover with no uncertainty that I'm not who they make me into for their sake.
Sometime I imagine myself to be the oak tree the poet lashed the lunatic to in G.K.Chesterton's tour de force, The Poet And The Lunatic, in order to prove to him that he was not God.
http://www.amazon.com/Poet-Lunatics-G-K-Chesterton/dp/0755100204
For a while after I read this insightful story, I thought I was the poet that would save the world from lunatics like me. Now I know that's not my place. I am is the immovable, but perishable object that forces people who think they have nothing to reconsider.
❦
Monday, February 14, 2011
The Silvery Moon
❧
It's not so odd that the group of people who subscribe to the Gospel of Thomas e-mail discussion group don't post their opinions about the sayings the way they did when I first subscribed. After all, there are only 114 sayings. Once upon a time the group was led by the old man who formed the group. Then, he stopped sending out the saying we expected each week, and wrote no more, and the group still doesn't know if it was because he died, but it seems likely.
After his contribution stopped, the Yahoo Groups people chose three of the members who had been subscribed the longest to run the group, and the activity carried on for a while pretty much like it had in his last days. Then, one of the chosen moderators stopped to become a UU preacher, another one quit and later became a regular member, and the last moderator seems to have lost interest in sending a saying out for discussion. She tried to reform the group in her own image, but participation lessened until nobody but me posts about some randomly chosen saying.
A few people write occasionally now, but the conversation is not so much about the sayings anymore, but write about mundane daily events. In the last week much of it has been about their personal problems, and indeed, my personal problems with rheumatoid arthritis. I don't care much for this subject. I guess I'm as much to blame as anybody. I asked another member who has RA if he used silver colloids and the present moderator took offense and ridiculed the notion. She ridicules a lot of notions. No blame.
It's difficult to know if the silver colloids I applied to the open lesions on my toes and hands is continuing the good work. I've written how treating my feet with Silverdene (the prescription salve), stopped the infection and instituted the healing process. It was the only medicine that's ever worked to make this happen. It led me to consider making my own silver colloids to use instead of the prescription medicine.
After I made the silver colloids with a simple battery-operated generator I put a part of the solution into a spray bottle that creates a fine, misty spray that I use to saturate my feet and hands. I stopped using the prescribed Silverdene to find out if what I'm doing with the colloids will work. The lesions haven't gotten infected again, and they do seem to continue to dry up and heal. Those spots are still red, but they seem to continue to heal.
Spraying the silver colloids up my nostrils into my sinuses also causes some of them to be sucked into my lungs. I tell myself that the antibiotic reaction the silver is noted for is helping to heal my lungs from all those decades I smoked cigarettes. Up until recently I've been coughing up phlegm from when I smoked, but over the last three years the phlegm has cleared up, but now I'm not coughing it up so much as I was. Whether that's an accurate indicator of healing is not easy to claim. It could be the result of the other supplements I'm taking.
I take a couple of supplements that have nothing to do with the RA, but with my aging process. They're supposed to help clear the cobwebs out of my brain, and they really seem to have done that to some degree. I'd be silly to make any claims. One of them especially provides indications that its doing something. The researchers say it gets past the brain blood barrier, and indeed, I can actually feel it's presence. For a while after I take it, I feel something that feels like a hatband around my head, and then it dissipated in the next hour or so. Now it doesn't do that anymore.
We're supposed to get the warm weather today. It's around nine-thirty and the temperature is already over 50° (10° C). I'm looking forward to laying out naked in the sun again today. It was a little chilly for that yesterday, but I still got a couple of hours in. The ultra-violet rays are supposed to be good for what ails me. '-)
❦
It's not so odd that the group of people who subscribe to the Gospel of Thomas e-mail discussion group don't post their opinions about the sayings the way they did when I first subscribed. After all, there are only 114 sayings. Once upon a time the group was led by the old man who formed the group. Then, he stopped sending out the saying we expected each week, and wrote no more, and the group still doesn't know if it was because he died, but it seems likely.
After his contribution stopped, the Yahoo Groups people chose three of the members who had been subscribed the longest to run the group, and the activity carried on for a while pretty much like it had in his last days. Then, one of the chosen moderators stopped to become a UU preacher, another one quit and later became a regular member, and the last moderator seems to have lost interest in sending a saying out for discussion. She tried to reform the group in her own image, but participation lessened until nobody but me posts about some randomly chosen saying.
A few people write occasionally now, but the conversation is not so much about the sayings anymore, but write about mundane daily events. In the last week much of it has been about their personal problems, and indeed, my personal problems with rheumatoid arthritis. I don't care much for this subject. I guess I'm as much to blame as anybody. I asked another member who has RA if he used silver colloids and the present moderator took offense and ridiculed the notion. She ridicules a lot of notions. No blame.
It's difficult to know if the silver colloids I applied to the open lesions on my toes and hands is continuing the good work. I've written how treating my feet with Silverdene (the prescription salve), stopped the infection and instituted the healing process. It was the only medicine that's ever worked to make this happen. It led me to consider making my own silver colloids to use instead of the prescription medicine.
After I made the silver colloids with a simple battery-operated generator I put a part of the solution into a spray bottle that creates a fine, misty spray that I use to saturate my feet and hands. I stopped using the prescribed Silverdene to find out if what I'm doing with the colloids will work. The lesions haven't gotten infected again, and they do seem to continue to dry up and heal. Those spots are still red, but they seem to continue to heal.
Spraying the silver colloids up my nostrils into my sinuses also causes some of them to be sucked into my lungs. I tell myself that the antibiotic reaction the silver is noted for is helping to heal my lungs from all those decades I smoked cigarettes. Up until recently I've been coughing up phlegm from when I smoked, but over the last three years the phlegm has cleared up, but now I'm not coughing it up so much as I was. Whether that's an accurate indicator of healing is not easy to claim. It could be the result of the other supplements I'm taking.
I take a couple of supplements that have nothing to do with the RA, but with my aging process. They're supposed to help clear the cobwebs out of my brain, and they really seem to have done that to some degree. I'd be silly to make any claims. One of them especially provides indications that its doing something. The researchers say it gets past the brain blood barrier, and indeed, I can actually feel it's presence. For a while after I take it, I feel something that feels like a hatband around my head, and then it dissipated in the next hour or so. Now it doesn't do that anymore.
We're supposed to get the warm weather today. It's around nine-thirty and the temperature is already over 50° (10° C). I'm looking forward to laying out naked in the sun again today. It was a little chilly for that yesterday, but I still got a couple of hours in. The ultra-violet rays are supposed to be good for what ails me. '-)
❦
Sunday, February 13, 2011
The Curtain And The Final Call
❧
The suite of Hearts have a strange affect on me when I'm playing that card game on my computer. Not many people would deny that I seem obsessed with playing this game. Okay, so maybe I am. But, I'm obsessed by lots of participatory events and games. Especially ones that can be played from the inside of my house and ho-me.
I remember the exact moment the hook was set. Why would I not? It was an event that literally changed my life because it took an awful lot of time to play out that and other obsessions. There have been many days in the past that I've spent at least a couple of hours playing Hearts and MineSweeper.
If I spent that whimsical amount of time practicing piano I'd bet my bottom dollar I could make a comfortable playing piano and singing quaint songs for the rest of my life. But, did I practice the piano rather than playing card games and sech non-sense on my computer? No I did not! What a waste... eh?
I keep writing ridiculous comments like "What a waste" immediately followed by three dots (to represent "blah, blah, blah"), and then follow those blahs with an "eh". It's a deliberate affectation I deliberately. Forgive me if it offends you. The point of using this silly, repetitious addenda is to help me remember to do it in real time conversation some day and sound all natural-like when I mimic some French-Canadians to their face for the sake of humor... eh?
I like word games that employ regional accents that seem impossible to imitate. I cater to individual mannerisms that make people feel special, especially in their own backyard. From my perspective, my silly rhetorical efforts mean no more than chatty bird songs. It's my way of acknowledging their self-expression in order to talk to them in the same voice they use for self-conversation.
I guess its mildly perverse to enjoy watching my inadvertent victims do a double-take to understand what just happened to make them suddenly alert. All without them consciously understanding why. Slight-of-mouth as misdirection has a tendency to piss people off and cause them to question my motives. No blame. It also causes the unsolicited advice they unwisely use me as a tarnished mirror for gets lost in the shuffle.
This mojo is not to die for. It's only for petty tyrants. Sometime it causes some people to want to hurt you as if you've invaded their privacy at a level they ain't grokked yet. Granted, it's chancy to work that edge merely to get a glimpse of what it takes to get them to resort to instinct and ready to protect themselves at an animal level. I practice stuff like that mentally while I play mindless computer games as an aside. Nevertheless, I mourn my game losses if they're due to the lack of my concentration caused by abstractly engendered ecstasy. Fortunately, nobody knows.
I learned to play the computer game of Hearts because it was included with the Microsoft Windows Operating System that was included with the IBM computer I bought at their Raleigh Outlet before it was closed. It was one of their freebie games along with the game of MineSweeper. I became obsessed with both games because I'm a gullible fool.
A successful businessman who owned the company that subcontracted the mechanical portion of the barracks we were building (a virtual genius my brother worked for to apprentice his winning ways), stopped by my desk while I was playing Solitaire on my personal laptop. He watched for a moment, and then asked me, "Do you like playing that game on a computer?" I nodded.
His reaction to my enthusiasm (hypnotic state) was, "If you like that game, you'll become virtually addicted to playing Hearts.", and he left the room as if indifferent. He absolutely was indifferent. That's why he is such a successful businessman. He does what he wants to in the moment, and moves on to let his comments walk if they have legs. In the meantime I got addicted to a time-wasting pastime.
I became obsessed with MineSweeper because of sibling rivalry. The oldest rivalry in my life. My true nemesis, my older sister, two years older than me, sort of challenged me to struggle through the intimidating intricacies of learning to play the game. Once I got past the rudiments, and especially after I triumphantly won a game or two, my sister's challenge was meaningless. Soon, I was competing against my own best winning time, and I was a goner. Another obsession to get lost in and live my secret life unimpeded by the distractions of the external world.
I am is not the sort of person who can easily turn tail and walk away from what enchants me. I was born with the Sun and Moon in Taurus. Lucky for me, its the phase of the lunar cycle when the first sliver of a crescent moon appears. Experienced and wise astrologers (The Magi) say that the amount of light the Moon reflect upon the moment of a person's birth is the amount of conscious awareness they have to work with for their entire lifetime. Oh... shit! I got a very small piece of the consciousness pie. No wonder I'm always the last to know.
I am is lucky to have that much consciousness. For three days before the absolute conjunction of the Moon with the Sun (New Moon), and for three days after the absolute, dead-nut conjunction of the Sun and Moon, the Moon reflects no light at all. For 5-6 days a lunar month the people in the mid-latitudes don't see the Moon at all.
My finally realizing the simplest of astronomical facts encountered by my past obsession with learning astrology, are fun for me to contemplate as they pop in my mind in the here and now of my dotage. The Moon phases and their mythical connotations are some of my favorite things to remember when my brother and I go out walking for our health at night.
Honestly, I don't know what people do with themselves when they get too old to play golf or piddle around in their gardens or hire professional help to entertain them. I don't know what other old people do at all. I stay at home and mind my own business, because minding my own business is what I find to be the most amusing.
The Hearts game I play these days came on a CD full of card games. I bought the CD at the Apple Store not long after it opened in Raleigh. Maybe five years ago. I had to buy the game because practically nothing useful comes with the Mac operating system.
If you wanna use a Mac (and who in their right mind doesn't?), then there is what its users call The Mac Tax. It's like the pillows and blankets on the airlines anymore. You gotta pay handsomely for the extras. Not misers like me. I'm no fool, I buy a keyboard or mouse to keep me off their hit list, but it's not actually required that you go bat-shit crazy over Eyemages of Steve Jobs.
Just never forget you're playing with what a huge corporate, profit-making mentality decides what's good for their shareholder's bottom line, and you might survive and still use their stuff, without becoming a tofu-eating fanboi. Steve Jobs is not the magician behind the curtain. Steve Jobs is the curtain itself.
❦
The suite of Hearts have a strange affect on me when I'm playing that card game on my computer. Not many people would deny that I seem obsessed with playing this game. Okay, so maybe I am. But, I'm obsessed by lots of participatory events and games. Especially ones that can be played from the inside of my house and ho-me.
I remember the exact moment the hook was set. Why would I not? It was an event that literally changed my life because it took an awful lot of time to play out that and other obsessions. There have been many days in the past that I've spent at least a couple of hours playing Hearts and MineSweeper.
If I spent that whimsical amount of time practicing piano I'd bet my bottom dollar I could make a comfortable playing piano and singing quaint songs for the rest of my life. But, did I practice the piano rather than playing card games and sech non-sense on my computer? No I did not! What a waste... eh?
I keep writing ridiculous comments like "What a waste" immediately followed by three dots (to represent "blah, blah, blah"), and then follow those blahs with an "eh". It's a deliberate affectation I deliberately. Forgive me if it offends you. The point of using this silly, repetitious addenda is to help me remember to do it in real time conversation some day and sound all natural-like when I mimic some French-Canadians to their face for the sake of humor... eh?
I like word games that employ regional accents that seem impossible to imitate. I cater to individual mannerisms that make people feel special, especially in their own backyard. From my perspective, my silly rhetorical efforts mean no more than chatty bird songs. It's my way of acknowledging their self-expression in order to talk to them in the same voice they use for self-conversation.
I guess its mildly perverse to enjoy watching my inadvertent victims do a double-take to understand what just happened to make them suddenly alert. All without them consciously understanding why. Slight-of-mouth as misdirection has a tendency to piss people off and cause them to question my motives. No blame. It also causes the unsolicited advice they unwisely use me as a tarnished mirror for gets lost in the shuffle.
This mojo is not to die for. It's only for petty tyrants. Sometime it causes some people to want to hurt you as if you've invaded their privacy at a level they ain't grokked yet. Granted, it's chancy to work that edge merely to get a glimpse of what it takes to get them to resort to instinct and ready to protect themselves at an animal level. I practice stuff like that mentally while I play mindless computer games as an aside. Nevertheless, I mourn my game losses if they're due to the lack of my concentration caused by abstractly engendered ecstasy. Fortunately, nobody knows.
I learned to play the computer game of Hearts because it was included with the Microsoft Windows Operating System that was included with the IBM computer I bought at their Raleigh Outlet before it was closed. It was one of their freebie games along with the game of MineSweeper. I became obsessed with both games because I'm a gullible fool.
A successful businessman who owned the company that subcontracted the mechanical portion of the barracks we were building (a virtual genius my brother worked for to apprentice his winning ways), stopped by my desk while I was playing Solitaire on my personal laptop. He watched for a moment, and then asked me, "Do you like playing that game on a computer?" I nodded.
His reaction to my enthusiasm (hypnotic state) was, "If you like that game, you'll become virtually addicted to playing Hearts.", and he left the room as if indifferent. He absolutely was indifferent. That's why he is such a successful businessman. He does what he wants to in the moment, and moves on to let his comments walk if they have legs. In the meantime I got addicted to a time-wasting pastime.
I became obsessed with MineSweeper because of sibling rivalry. The oldest rivalry in my life. My true nemesis, my older sister, two years older than me, sort of challenged me to struggle through the intimidating intricacies of learning to play the game. Once I got past the rudiments, and especially after I triumphantly won a game or two, my sister's challenge was meaningless. Soon, I was competing against my own best winning time, and I was a goner. Another obsession to get lost in and live my secret life unimpeded by the distractions of the external world.
I am is not the sort of person who can easily turn tail and walk away from what enchants me. I was born with the Sun and Moon in Taurus. Lucky for me, its the phase of the lunar cycle when the first sliver of a crescent moon appears. Experienced and wise astrologers (The Magi) say that the amount of light the Moon reflect upon the moment of a person's birth is the amount of conscious awareness they have to work with for their entire lifetime. Oh... shit! I got a very small piece of the consciousness pie. No wonder I'm always the last to know.
I am is lucky to have that much consciousness. For three days before the absolute conjunction of the Moon with the Sun (New Moon), and for three days after the absolute, dead-nut conjunction of the Sun and Moon, the Moon reflects no light at all. For 5-6 days a lunar month the people in the mid-latitudes don't see the Moon at all.
My finally realizing the simplest of astronomical facts encountered by my past obsession with learning astrology, are fun for me to contemplate as they pop in my mind in the here and now of my dotage. The Moon phases and their mythical connotations are some of my favorite things to remember when my brother and I go out walking for our health at night.
Honestly, I don't know what people do with themselves when they get too old to play golf or piddle around in their gardens or hire professional help to entertain them. I don't know what other old people do at all. I stay at home and mind my own business, because minding my own business is what I find to be the most amusing.
The Hearts game I play these days came on a CD full of card games. I bought the CD at the Apple Store not long after it opened in Raleigh. Maybe five years ago. I had to buy the game because practically nothing useful comes with the Mac operating system.
If you wanna use a Mac (and who in their right mind doesn't?), then there is what its users call The Mac Tax. It's like the pillows and blankets on the airlines anymore. You gotta pay handsomely for the extras. Not misers like me. I'm no fool, I buy a keyboard or mouse to keep me off their hit list, but it's not actually required that you go bat-shit crazy over Eyemages of Steve Jobs.
Just never forget you're playing with what a huge corporate, profit-making mentality decides what's good for their shareholder's bottom line, and you might survive and still use their stuff, without becoming a tofu-eating fanboi. Steve Jobs is not the magician behind the curtain. Steve Jobs is the curtain itself.
❦
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Unexpected Insight
❧
The blog entry I wrote yesterday was not wonderful. It might be even worse than I think it is. It's difficult, as I understand it, for anybody to edit their own writing. It seems like most of the mistakes and typos I make during my editing, is caused in many ways by my editing itself.
I seem especially vulnerable to repeating words. "And" most often it seems. I'll be skim-reading along looking for obvious mistakes, and I run into two "ands" in a row. Like, "I did this and and that for a while...". And and that happens fairly often. "Dilbert!"
The way I use the term Dilbert has nothing to do with a comic strip careactor. When I get angry at myself for making really dumb errors I screech at myself, "Dilbert! Asshole!". There may be some subtle connection between the two expressions. What I was told a "Dilbert" was, was ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.
I get so full of myself sometime. I get over-inflated with the sheer joy of being me, and that's why I get careless and and make those redundant errors repetitiously.
If the simplest, most mundane tasks are the most difficult for me to describe in plain, unvarnished language, then revealing what gives me this stupendous rush of ecstasy and joy un-announced is three orders of magnitude beyond miraculous.
Most often, it might appear, these serendipitously encountered moments of ecstagony have payback written all over them from the git go, and and my signed and sealed deal with the devil printed right on them for the whole world to see.
I suspected all along that I must have done something like making a deal with the devil in some unremembered escapade of my youth. I've been lucky even in my despair. The despair I engendered by my youthful from an acute desire to understand life, and here it is, unexpectedly shoved right in my face. How can I describe how this process of confirmation emerging into consciousness at last, drives me weeping and puling straight into the throes of joy.
Sometime I am is claims that, "Nobody knows." Even I know that's not exactly true. If nobody knows and and I am is somebody, then it is an exception to the rule "Nobody knows." That's another story. I write that nobody knows because in my world view we all project our subjective idea of ourselves upon the world around us.
I can write descriptions of events in my life that are well-formed and satisfying to my criticism, but anybody who reads what I make public can only read into my finely honed efforts their own idea of what they would have meant if they had written the exact sa-me words.
That includes me most of the time. It's lonely being allone. Before I can even stop myself I'll make you into a somethingness that gives me comfort temporarily. You don't mind, do you? I'll be gone before you gnow it.
❦
The blog entry I wrote yesterday was not wonderful. It might be even worse than I think it is. It's difficult, as I understand it, for anybody to edit their own writing. It seems like most of the mistakes and typos I make during my editing, is caused in many ways by my editing itself.
I seem especially vulnerable to repeating words. "And" most often it seems. I'll be skim-reading along looking for obvious mistakes, and I run into two "ands" in a row. Like, "I did this and and that for a while...". And and that happens fairly often. "Dilbert!"
The way I use the term Dilbert has nothing to do with a comic strip careactor. When I get angry at myself for making really dumb errors I screech at myself, "Dilbert! Asshole!". There may be some subtle connection between the two expressions. What I was told a "Dilbert" was, was ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.
I get so full of myself sometime. I get over-inflated with the sheer joy of being me, and that's why I get careless and and make those redundant errors repetitiously.
If the simplest, most mundane tasks are the most difficult for me to describe in plain, unvarnished language, then revealing what gives me this stupendous rush of ecstasy and joy un-announced is three orders of magnitude beyond miraculous.
Most often, it might appear, these serendipitously encountered moments of ecstagony have payback written all over them from the git go, and and my signed and sealed deal with the devil printed right on them for the whole world to see.
I suspected all along that I must have done something like making a deal with the devil in some unremembered escapade of my youth. I've been lucky even in my despair. The despair I engendered by my youthful from an acute desire to understand life, and here it is, unexpectedly shoved right in my face. How can I describe how this process of confirmation emerging into consciousness at last, drives me weeping and puling straight into the throes of joy.
Sometime I am is claims that, "Nobody knows." Even I know that's not exactly true. If nobody knows and and I am is somebody, then it is an exception to the rule "Nobody knows." That's another story. I write that nobody knows because in my world view we all project our subjective idea of ourselves upon the world around us.
I can write descriptions of events in my life that are well-formed and satisfying to my criticism, but anybody who reads what I make public can only read into my finely honed efforts their own idea of what they would have meant if they had written the exact sa-me words.
That includes me most of the time. It's lonely being allone. Before I can even stop myself I'll make you into a somethingness that gives me comfort temporarily. You don't mind, do you? I'll be gone before you gnow it.
❦
Friday, February 11, 2011
Percival
❧
The weather is better today, and is forecast to be the average winter temperatures for the next week. That's just wonderful. The cold weather has not helped my arthritis, but since there's nothing I can do about the weather, and not much I can do about my RA, then making lemonade is my best hope for comfort.
My sinuses have been clearing up since I started spraying them with the silver colloids. This is much less painful than the salt water method I've been using the last forty years. Of course, my cessation of smoking tobacco has had to help a lot, but I stopped smoking over three years ago, and this is the best condition my sinuses has been in for a long time.
It's really evident when my youngest brother and I go out walking at night. There is a small hill we have to climb as we approach his house and go around behind it to start the next round, and it's the toughest physical part of our walk.
The "hills" are not really hills to most folks who live in other parts of the State. They're just the other side of the low areas and swamps create where there are rivers and streams. The river that runs through our family property has a flood plain that extends for a few hundred yards on either side of it.
This condition is easy to observe on the roads that pass through this bottom land. Between here and Fayettenam there are numerous creeks and streams, and the Cape Fear River where the road suddenly drops down into the flood plain, then, after you cross the water course and the flood plain on the other side of it, rising to the flat coastal plains causes the road to look like it's a hill.
It seems silly for me to attempt to describe something that any fool can perceive without getting confused by it. This sort of description is what is the most difficult for me to write about. It's difficult because of my perspective readers.
Anybody of any educational level or none at all can readily observe the flatness of the coastal plains. The flatness of the coastal plains is not any different than the flatness of any kinds of plains. That's why the flatlands are called "plains".
It truly surprised me to hear my American Indian friend naymed Billy say that he had never actually seen a mountain in his entire life. I feel a little privileged to have been the person who was in his company when he did garner his initial experience of being on top of a mountain for the first time in his life.
It's not like we climbed up there hand over fist. There is a National Park on top of Lookout Mountain in Tennessee, and a long winding, curvy paved road upon which anybody can drive a car to the uttermost crest of this medium-sized Appalachian mountain.
People do it all the time. there was a fair crowd inside the Park itself for the whole time we were there. There might have been even more people milling around the souvenir shops near the entrance to the Park. In all due respect, particularly for Tennessee, this historical spot is a neat and tidy community. Lots of family types with kids running wild. People seem to feel safe there.
Like I said, it was strange to be in Billy's company when he walked around up there in the Park. There were lots of fenced in areas around the rim of the mountain. Especially where there were clear views of the Tennessee River and the city of Chattanooga.
It was the first time I'd actually been atop Lookout Mountain. I've driven around it or walked by it a thousand times. It's on an ancient Indian trade route on the western side of the Appalachian mountain range from Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi up to the Great Lakes.
Chattanooga is a crazy place geographically. Why it's crazy can been seen from the Park on Lookout Mountain. There is a huge bend in the Tennessee River, and Chattanooga is located on this bend. From the looks of it on Google Maps, it appears to be about as far eastward into the Appalachians a cargo boat could go via the Mississippi and Ohio river systems.
I would have to look it up, but I think the Natchez Trace goes to Chattanooga. Highway 64 goes through the Smoky Mountains to Murphy, North Carolina and thus the Atlantic seaboard regions from Chattanooga.
That took second place to observing Billy's enchantment, but it's newness, to me too, sure made it easier to empathize with his visible excitement. I think he had felt a little deprived to be an Indian and never seen a mountain before too. This visit remedied any of that non-sense.
I wrote the stuff below earlier today. I liked the way I wrote it and wanna save it someplace to read it when I get old, so I'm putting it here.
*
You appear to be projecting some hurtful wound of your own upon me. Why would you attempt to rain on my charade over a topic you seem to care less about?
You know more than I do of the Grail myth in which Percival failed the Grail king's test of his worthiness. He didn't get the Grail Cup because he chose to react out a knightly Code of Chivalry over humane compassion when the Fisher King was brought before him in a litter.
So tell me, great priestess. Where does it hurt? What insensitive bastard has lain you up and made you feel helpless. With nothing more to do in your present state than to fish in the shallows of a minor stream instead of a mighty river?
You can tell even me. Despite the Pope's latest edict, you CAN confess over the internet, and to anybody you damn well please. Go big or go home.
*
❦
The weather is better today, and is forecast to be the average winter temperatures for the next week. That's just wonderful. The cold weather has not helped my arthritis, but since there's nothing I can do about the weather, and not much I can do about my RA, then making lemonade is my best hope for comfort.
My sinuses have been clearing up since I started spraying them with the silver colloids. This is much less painful than the salt water method I've been using the last forty years. Of course, my cessation of smoking tobacco has had to help a lot, but I stopped smoking over three years ago, and this is the best condition my sinuses has been in for a long time.
It's really evident when my youngest brother and I go out walking at night. There is a small hill we have to climb as we approach his house and go around behind it to start the next round, and it's the toughest physical part of our walk.
The "hills" are not really hills to most folks who live in other parts of the State. They're just the other side of the low areas and swamps create where there are rivers and streams. The river that runs through our family property has a flood plain that extends for a few hundred yards on either side of it.
This condition is easy to observe on the roads that pass through this bottom land. Between here and Fayettenam there are numerous creeks and streams, and the Cape Fear River where the road suddenly drops down into the flood plain, then, after you cross the water course and the flood plain on the other side of it, rising to the flat coastal plains causes the road to look like it's a hill.
It seems silly for me to attempt to describe something that any fool can perceive without getting confused by it. This sort of description is what is the most difficult for me to write about. It's difficult because of my perspective readers.
Anybody of any educational level or none at all can readily observe the flatness of the coastal plains. The flatness of the coastal plains is not any different than the flatness of any kinds of plains. That's why the flatlands are called "plains".
It truly surprised me to hear my American Indian friend naymed Billy say that he had never actually seen a mountain in his entire life. I feel a little privileged to have been the person who was in his company when he did garner his initial experience of being on top of a mountain for the first time in his life.
It's not like we climbed up there hand over fist. There is a National Park on top of Lookout Mountain in Tennessee, and a long winding, curvy paved road upon which anybody can drive a car to the uttermost crest of this medium-sized Appalachian mountain.
People do it all the time. there was a fair crowd inside the Park itself for the whole time we were there. There might have been even more people milling around the souvenir shops near the entrance to the Park. In all due respect, particularly for Tennessee, this historical spot is a neat and tidy community. Lots of family types with kids running wild. People seem to feel safe there.
Like I said, it was strange to be in Billy's company when he walked around up there in the Park. There were lots of fenced in areas around the rim of the mountain. Especially where there were clear views of the Tennessee River and the city of Chattanooga.
It was the first time I'd actually been atop Lookout Mountain. I've driven around it or walked by it a thousand times. It's on an ancient Indian trade route on the western side of the Appalachian mountain range from Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi up to the Great Lakes.
Chattanooga is a crazy place geographically. Why it's crazy can been seen from the Park on Lookout Mountain. There is a huge bend in the Tennessee River, and Chattanooga is located on this bend. From the looks of it on Google Maps, it appears to be about as far eastward into the Appalachians a cargo boat could go via the Mississippi and Ohio river systems.
I would have to look it up, but I think the Natchez Trace goes to Chattanooga. Highway 64 goes through the Smoky Mountains to Murphy, North Carolina and thus the Atlantic seaboard regions from Chattanooga.
That took second place to observing Billy's enchantment, but it's newness, to me too, sure made it easier to empathize with his visible excitement. I think he had felt a little deprived to be an Indian and never seen a mountain before too. This visit remedied any of that non-sense.
I wrote the stuff below earlier today. I liked the way I wrote it and wanna save it someplace to read it when I get old, so I'm putting it here.
*
You appear to be projecting some hurtful wound of your own upon me. Why would you attempt to rain on my charade over a topic you seem to care less about?
You know more than I do of the Grail myth in which Percival failed the Grail king's test of his worthiness. He didn't get the Grail Cup because he chose to react out a knightly Code of Chivalry over humane compassion when the Fisher King was brought before him in a litter.
So tell me, great priestess. Where does it hurt? What insensitive bastard has lain you up and made you feel helpless. With nothing more to do in your present state than to fish in the shallows of a minor stream instead of a mighty river?
You can tell even me. Despite the Pope's latest edict, you CAN confess over the internet, and to anybody you damn well please. Go big or go home.
*
❦
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Assurancewireless.com Is A Fail
❧
Yesterday was a lousy day. This Assurancewireless.com free telephone offer is a rip-off as far as I'm concerned. It's owned by Virgin Mobile and apparently they get money from the American government to provide a wireless phone to poor people like me.
I applied for it and they sent me this phone and a Quick Start booklet that indicates that it can be activated in 8 easy steps. I performed each task as recommended and it didn't work. Then, I went to their web site and attempted to activate it over the web.
When I entered the information to activate the phone, the web site said the information didn't get through and to try it again. I tried again and the website rejected my submittal again, and said I should call a number.
I called the number and none of their stated options fit my situation because I needed a phone number to get an answer, but I couldn't get a phone number until the cell phone was activated, so they provided a number to some place where English is not their primary language.
I politely tried to talk to the guy and he tried to instruct me on what I needed to do to activate the phone, but I couldn't understand him and kept asking him to repeat what he said. Finally, he hung up on me, and left me holding my reliable touch-tone home phone disconcerted and angry with frustration.
Then, when I tried to activate again via the web site, and they shut me down and I couldn't even find them with Google search. I literally got a message saying the web site was presently unavailable. I did this again several hours later, and Google couldn't find them again after I tried to activate the phone.
I sent an e-mail to a Contact Us point I found at the web site after I got there through their hundreds of advertisements, and got an automated response saying they would be in touch within 24 hours. A few hours later they sent an e-mail that said I had to go through one of their "advisers" again in India (I suppose) to get my 250 free minutes.
This time, after a fairly long wait on hold, a woman finally spoke English well enough for us to communicate at some primitive level. The first thing she told me to do was to take the back off the phone, take the battery the Quick Start booklet had instructed me to install, and find the serial number of the phone behind where the battery was. That wasn't easy, but I finally got it for her.
Then, she asked me for the numbers on my approval letter I got from Assurance Wireless and she warned me to keep the numbers handy, and then she gave me the telephone number for the phone. I asked her if the phone was activated now, and she told me it was, but I'd have to wait four hours for it to take effect.
This happened late yesterday afternoon and I still can't activate the phone and I keep getting the same message I got initially: Service not available. It's beginning to dawn on me what's going on here.
Virgin Mobile, a British billionaire's company is getting money from the American taxpayers for a cheap Asian wireless phone maintained by mindless, unintelligible Indian outsourcing for a service Assurancewireless.com knows perfectly well doesn't work.
I complained in another e-mail that will bring another robotic, automated response that will tell me it's my fault their system don't work in my neighborhood, but I'd bet my bottom dollar they still get the money from the government because they assigned me a useless phone number. How do I know it's useless. I called the telephone number they assigned me and an operator told me it was "out of service".
I drove to several locations in and around the little town I live in and never got any receptivity bars anywhere within ten miles. What good is that? It's Virgin Mobile's company. They know they don't have the towers for receptivity here.
I would write to the Better Business Bureau to complain, and I still might. Apparently I love to torture myself thinking there is some sort of natural system of justice in the world, but the BBB is operated by capitalists who have their own agenda in mind. God bless America.
❦
Yesterday was a lousy day. This Assurancewireless.com free telephone offer is a rip-off as far as I'm concerned. It's owned by Virgin Mobile and apparently they get money from the American government to provide a wireless phone to poor people like me.
I applied for it and they sent me this phone and a Quick Start booklet that indicates that it can be activated in 8 easy steps. I performed each task as recommended and it didn't work. Then, I went to their web site and attempted to activate it over the web.
When I entered the information to activate the phone, the web site said the information didn't get through and to try it again. I tried again and the website rejected my submittal again, and said I should call a number.
I called the number and none of their stated options fit my situation because I needed a phone number to get an answer, but I couldn't get a phone number until the cell phone was activated, so they provided a number to some place where English is not their primary language.
I politely tried to talk to the guy and he tried to instruct me on what I needed to do to activate the phone, but I couldn't understand him and kept asking him to repeat what he said. Finally, he hung up on me, and left me holding my reliable touch-tone home phone disconcerted and angry with frustration.
Then, when I tried to activate again via the web site, and they shut me down and I couldn't even find them with Google search. I literally got a message saying the web site was presently unavailable. I did this again several hours later, and Google couldn't find them again after I tried to activate the phone.
I sent an e-mail to a Contact Us point I found at the web site after I got there through their hundreds of advertisements, and got an automated response saying they would be in touch within 24 hours. A few hours later they sent an e-mail that said I had to go through one of their "advisers" again in India (I suppose) to get my 250 free minutes.
This time, after a fairly long wait on hold, a woman finally spoke English well enough for us to communicate at some primitive level. The first thing she told me to do was to take the back off the phone, take the battery the Quick Start booklet had instructed me to install, and find the serial number of the phone behind where the battery was. That wasn't easy, but I finally got it for her.
Then, she asked me for the numbers on my approval letter I got from Assurance Wireless and she warned me to keep the numbers handy, and then she gave me the telephone number for the phone. I asked her if the phone was activated now, and she told me it was, but I'd have to wait four hours for it to take effect.
This happened late yesterday afternoon and I still can't activate the phone and I keep getting the same message I got initially: Service not available. It's beginning to dawn on me what's going on here.
Virgin Mobile, a British billionaire's company is getting money from the American taxpayers for a cheap Asian wireless phone maintained by mindless, unintelligible Indian outsourcing for a service Assurancewireless.com knows perfectly well doesn't work.
I complained in another e-mail that will bring another robotic, automated response that will tell me it's my fault their system don't work in my neighborhood, but I'd bet my bottom dollar they still get the money from the government because they assigned me a useless phone number. How do I know it's useless. I called the telephone number they assigned me and an operator told me it was "out of service".
I drove to several locations in and around the little town I live in and never got any receptivity bars anywhere within ten miles. What good is that? It's Virgin Mobile's company. They know they don't have the towers for receptivity here.
I would write to the Better Business Bureau to complain, and I still might. Apparently I love to torture myself thinking there is some sort of natural system of justice in the world, but the BBB is operated by capitalists who have their own agenda in mind. God bless America.
❦
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Will The Memristor Come Out To Play Today?
❧
It will be another hour and a half before the Hewlett Packard unveiling of their new stuff. I am very interested to see if they will bring out their memristor memory on their new equipment. It's probably too good to be true. According to the hype it will change everything because of it's small footprint. IBM has a new form of teeny tiny memory also.
There is no telling how long it will take to get these technologies to the average consumer. After all, they're big corporations with only one thing on their mind. Money and profits. I guess there is no blame in their reticence since that is what corporations were created for originally.
It was nearly eleven o'clock before my youngest brother got through with doing what makes him feel important last night. He called to see if I still wanted to go on our almost nightly walk around the farm for a couple of miles. Why would I not go? I didn't have to get up and go to work. I don't have a job.
The temperatures were quite chilly, and I didn't bundle up enough to allay the initial penetration of the cold through my inadequate layers. It didn't last long once we got a rhythm going. Before I got back to the house my clothes were damp with perspiration.
Dressing for our walk is the most difficult skill to muster these days. I've worn four different pairs of shoes to find the right ones. "The right ones" being the shoes that hurt my feet the least. It's finally come down to the Crocs his brother-in-law suggested by buying a pair and giving them to me. Thin socks and Crocs. That's the ticket!
Odd thing is that the silver colloids I spray on my feet seems to keep them warmer. My feet actually got quite toasty from what seemed like the friction of my feet against the soles of my Crocs during our walk. It's the same thing with my other shoes and sandals.
Might be the conductivity of the nano-sized silver particles gets the heat of the blood running through my feet mo' bettah. Any way I look at it, this has got to be a good thing. Old people suffer most from cold feet. Especially arthritic cold feet. Socrates claimed his forced self-murder rose from his feet.
The silver colloids I've started using is like a ga-me to me. Mostly from using a spray bottle as the delivery system. I would almost swear that it's killing the tiny little warts on my hands that have plagued me forever. Nobody has ever noticed them enough to say something, and they're no bother to me otherwise. It's just that I've never been able to get rid of them by any method I adopted to get shed of them.
My old friend with all the medical training pointed out a spot on the calf of my leg and told me it was a cancer I oughta have removed, but when I pointed it out to two different doctors on two different occasions they told me not to worry about it, and they ignored it like it was unimportant.
The doctors' lack of concern made the spot less threatening, but it irked me simply by being there. I spray it with the silver colloids just to see what will happen. Like with the little warts, I don't expect great success in it making them go away.
The most obvious place using these silver colloids is making a difference is in my nasal and sinus passages, and in my lungs. I spritz a good squirt of mist up each nostril while clamping off the other in order to get the colloids in each nare coated with the silver particles and hopefully deep into my lungs.
When I took the proscription pills to deal with the fungi on my feet years ago (it really worked marvelously, again, after years of trying), I looked up the medicine on the internet, and the articles I read there stated that this medicine was originally designed to address the fungus that gets in people's lungs who live in swampy areas.
The Everglades in southern Florida are probably the only place in the continental United States that is swampier than the southeast Atlantic seaboard where I live. The internet articles stated that people who live in places like this have a constant problem with the fungi they can't not breathe in, and most of them don't know it.
I do, but only because I was made aware of it through my individual research. I'd never heard of such a thing before. Once I became aware that such is so, however, it crosses my mind with every little cough or cold symptom that arises. The silver colloids should help.
The old, worn lines in my old palms suggest that another intimate relationship is coming my way that will last until I croak. Maybe it will happen before it's too late.
❦
It will be another hour and a half before the Hewlett Packard unveiling of their new stuff. I am very interested to see if they will bring out their memristor memory on their new equipment. It's probably too good to be true. According to the hype it will change everything because of it's small footprint. IBM has a new form of teeny tiny memory also.
There is no telling how long it will take to get these technologies to the average consumer. After all, they're big corporations with only one thing on their mind. Money and profits. I guess there is no blame in their reticence since that is what corporations were created for originally.
It was nearly eleven o'clock before my youngest brother got through with doing what makes him feel important last night. He called to see if I still wanted to go on our almost nightly walk around the farm for a couple of miles. Why would I not go? I didn't have to get up and go to work. I don't have a job.
The temperatures were quite chilly, and I didn't bundle up enough to allay the initial penetration of the cold through my inadequate layers. It didn't last long once we got a rhythm going. Before I got back to the house my clothes were damp with perspiration.
Dressing for our walk is the most difficult skill to muster these days. I've worn four different pairs of shoes to find the right ones. "The right ones" being the shoes that hurt my feet the least. It's finally come down to the Crocs his brother-in-law suggested by buying a pair and giving them to me. Thin socks and Crocs. That's the ticket!
Odd thing is that the silver colloids I spray on my feet seems to keep them warmer. My feet actually got quite toasty from what seemed like the friction of my feet against the soles of my Crocs during our walk. It's the same thing with my other shoes and sandals.
Might be the conductivity of the nano-sized silver particles gets the heat of the blood running through my feet mo' bettah. Any way I look at it, this has got to be a good thing. Old people suffer most from cold feet. Especially arthritic cold feet. Socrates claimed his forced self-murder rose from his feet.
The silver colloids I've started using is like a ga-me to me. Mostly from using a spray bottle as the delivery system. I would almost swear that it's killing the tiny little warts on my hands that have plagued me forever. Nobody has ever noticed them enough to say something, and they're no bother to me otherwise. It's just that I've never been able to get rid of them by any method I adopted to get shed of them.
My old friend with all the medical training pointed out a spot on the calf of my leg and told me it was a cancer I oughta have removed, but when I pointed it out to two different doctors on two different occasions they told me not to worry about it, and they ignored it like it was unimportant.
The doctors' lack of concern made the spot less threatening, but it irked me simply by being there. I spray it with the silver colloids just to see what will happen. Like with the little warts, I don't expect great success in it making them go away.
The most obvious place using these silver colloids is making a difference is in my nasal and sinus passages, and in my lungs. I spritz a good squirt of mist up each nostril while clamping off the other in order to get the colloids in each nare coated with the silver particles and hopefully deep into my lungs.
When I took the proscription pills to deal with the fungi on my feet years ago (it really worked marvelously, again, after years of trying), I looked up the medicine on the internet, and the articles I read there stated that this medicine was originally designed to address the fungus that gets in people's lungs who live in swampy areas.
The Everglades in southern Florida are probably the only place in the continental United States that is swampier than the southeast Atlantic seaboard where I live. The internet articles stated that people who live in places like this have a constant problem with the fungi they can't not breathe in, and most of them don't know it.
I do, but only because I was made aware of it through my individual research. I'd never heard of such a thing before. Once I became aware that such is so, however, it crosses my mind with every little cough or cold symptom that arises. The silver colloids should help.
The old, worn lines in my old palms suggest that another intimate relationship is coming my way that will last until I croak. Maybe it will happen before it's too late.
❦
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Burning My Burning Desire For Life
I woke up after a weird dream. It didn't seem like I'd go back to sleep for a while. I lay in bed thinking about identity. Individuation. I've been emptying my house of the possessions that identify me as my parent's son, my sibling's brother, my ex-wive's husband and then ex-husband. When I began recollecting the time in my life when I was my children's father, as lousy as I've been at all that, I got up outta bed because I can't stand it.
I've burned stuff that I wrote in the past all along. Stacks of spiral-bound notebooks full of my journals. Ten years at a time. I burned all the questions I asked the I Ching for thirty years. I burned all the report cards my mother born in Cancer saved for me from first grade on. All the papers that say I went to college. All the letters I wrote to my parents from all over the world. All the licenses and certifications I acquired over the years.
It's getting hard for somebody to steal my cursed identity that made me this or that. I'm not stupid or at least try to give that appearance. i haven't burned my drivers license or my VA ID card or my expired Passport so I can prove to the man I am is a never-was, but with a house to live in and a checking account to pay my own way.
I guess I am doing what upset my daughter when I sent her all the stuff her mother left here when she took them away to California. I am preparing to die by cleaning up my act. Soon, the only way I'll be able to prove I'm somebody will be gone, and I'll be back to possessing only my wit and grit again, if that.
If the sacrifices I've made ain't good enough to save me from a tasteless death, I'll just have to go down hard in some weird institution like other friends over the years who died not even knowing we were once friends. I suspect that ere long I won't know who's dreaming the nightmares I wake up frightened from with nobody else here to calm my fears and tell me it was only a dream.
*
4 Jesus said, "The person old in days won't hesitate to ask a little child seven days old about the place of life, and that person will live.
For many of the first will be last, and will become a single one."
http://www.gape.org/gapes/prispevki/atranslationofthegospelofthomas.htm
*
I interpret #4 to mean that there are homo sapiens, and contrarily, there are those who originated the process of life here on earth that includes all the other species of life, that have the appearance of being homo sapiens presently, but they're not really human, they are the "first" mentioned in the Gospel of Thomas saying above.
When the "first" swarm of pearl-like entities get through populating the earth as assigned, they will reunite, "and be-co-me a single One" in order to conveniently move to the next exoplanet and do it all over again. '-)
This ongoing assessment I make of the gods is no more than what I make it up to be. Each reader will read into what I've carelessly written what they personally think is sot before them. I don't write so much to discover the truth. That is because the truth itself to me is ongoing in the same way I speculate about in the specious present.
In other words, the present is damned specious. Very iffy. It could be this or that, but since it take both this and that to make up that which is it, speculation, in my opinion, is all we have to comfort ourselves with because our purpose for being here is "assigned".
"Assigned"? That's a poser, ain't it?
I employ the term "assigned" due to one event (of a myriad of continuous time-distorted events) that showed up or transpired during my remembering vision that came to me unexpectedly and un-summoned forty years ago at the completion of my first Saturn Return:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saturn_return
During this unique "vision" things moved along progressively, telling the story of all my previous existences since arriving on Earth, until something spectacular happened, and the progression I just mentioned did not proceed as usual from the moment of this happening, as far as I gnow, to this very day.
Something... SOMETHING... moved through the Earth and every earthly object created by the pearls through imitation and mimicry was split into two parts. However (I'm opining lately without any hard facts to go on; nobody knows), not the pearls themselves. This SOMETHINGness swished through Earth only momentarily. Zing!!.
Whatever it was didn't hang around. It's difficult to find the proper descriptor. There was only one small, almost insignificant indication that the occupants of the Earth had been affected. The moment was like the slightly ripping sound of a very sharp knife or sword cutting through paper. There might have even been a metallic "ping/swish" to indicate that was all there was to it.
Whatever it was might or might not have been that which assigned us pearls to come here and incrementally populate the earth. My only point is that it did what it did to the occupants of Earth, both the pearls and their abandoned products of me-me-cry (mimicry) could not resist the results it's lightening-like strike evoked. BOOM!
Afterward, when all the forms of life the pearls had created by imitating each other's mutual handiwork were split into by what Mother Shipton called the Dragon's Tail, the creatures the pearls created stopped seeking to be re-united with their creators, and began seeking instead their other half.
In their responding in that predetermined manner, they became as gods themselves, and their creator's original assignment was completed.
Read the header at the top of my blog again to remind yourself, if needed, that I make this shit up as I go along. It's not meant to be the God's own truth, but rather to make ti-me fly. What else? '-)
I've burned stuff that I wrote in the past all along. Stacks of spiral-bound notebooks full of my journals. Ten years at a time. I burned all the questions I asked the I Ching for thirty years. I burned all the report cards my mother born in Cancer saved for me from first grade on. All the papers that say I went to college. All the letters I wrote to my parents from all over the world. All the licenses and certifications I acquired over the years.
It's getting hard for somebody to steal my cursed identity that made me this or that. I'm not stupid or at least try to give that appearance. i haven't burned my drivers license or my VA ID card or my expired Passport so I can prove to the man I am is a never-was, but with a house to live in and a checking account to pay my own way.
I guess I am doing what upset my daughter when I sent her all the stuff her mother left here when she took them away to California. I am preparing to die by cleaning up my act. Soon, the only way I'll be able to prove I'm somebody will be gone, and I'll be back to possessing only my wit and grit again, if that.
If the sacrifices I've made ain't good enough to save me from a tasteless death, I'll just have to go down hard in some weird institution like other friends over the years who died not even knowing we were once friends. I suspect that ere long I won't know who's dreaming the nightmares I wake up frightened from with nobody else here to calm my fears and tell me it was only a dream.
*
4 Jesus said, "The person old in days won't hesitate to ask a little child seven days old about the place of life, and that person will live.
For many of the first will be last, and will become a single one."
http://www.gape.org/gapes/prispevki/atranslationofthegospelofthomas.htm
*
I interpret #4 to mean that there are homo sapiens, and contrarily, there are those who originated the process of life here on earth that includes all the other species of life, that have the appearance of being homo sapiens presently, but they're not really human, they are the "first" mentioned in the Gospel of Thomas saying above.
When the "first" swarm of pearl-like entities get through populating the earth as assigned, they will reunite, "and be-co-me a single One" in order to conveniently move to the next exoplanet and do it all over again. '-)
This ongoing assessment I make of the gods is no more than what I make it up to be. Each reader will read into what I've carelessly written what they personally think is sot before them. I don't write so much to discover the truth. That is because the truth itself to me is ongoing in the same way I speculate about in the specious present.
In other words, the present is damned specious. Very iffy. It could be this or that, but since it take both this and that to make up that which is it, speculation, in my opinion, is all we have to comfort ourselves with because our purpose for being here is "assigned".
"Assigned"? That's a poser, ain't it?
I employ the term "assigned" due to one event (of a myriad of continuous time-distorted events) that showed up or transpired during my remembering vision that came to me unexpectedly and un-summoned forty years ago at the completion of my first Saturn Return:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saturn_return
During this unique "vision" things moved along progressively, telling the story of all my previous existences since arriving on Earth, until something spectacular happened, and the progression I just mentioned did not proceed as usual from the moment of this happening, as far as I gnow, to this very day.
Something... SOMETHING... moved through the Earth and every earthly object created by the pearls through imitation and mimicry was split into two parts. However (I'm opining lately without any hard facts to go on; nobody knows), not the pearls themselves. This SOMETHINGness swished through Earth only momentarily. Zing!!.
Whatever it was didn't hang around. It's difficult to find the proper descriptor. There was only one small, almost insignificant indication that the occupants of the Earth had been affected. The moment was like the slightly ripping sound of a very sharp knife or sword cutting through paper. There might have even been a metallic "ping/swish" to indicate that was all there was to it.
Whatever it was might or might not have been that which assigned us pearls to come here and incrementally populate the earth. My only point is that it did what it did to the occupants of Earth, both the pearls and their abandoned products of me-me-cry (mimicry) could not resist the results it's lightening-like strike evoked. BOOM!
Afterward, when all the forms of life the pearls had created by imitating each other's mutual handiwork were split into by what Mother Shipton called the Dragon's Tail, the creatures the pearls created stopped seeking to be re-united with their creators, and began seeking instead their other half.
In their responding in that predetermined manner, they became as gods themselves, and their creator's original assignment was completed.
Read the header at the top of my blog again to remind yourself, if needed, that I make this shit up as I go along. It's not meant to be the God's own truth, but rather to make ti-me fly. What else? '-)
Monday, February 7, 2011
Family Gatherings And Nasal Passages
❧
Thank goodness the weekend is over and all the worker bees have returned to their duties. My older sister had a delayed curried shrimp dinner party yesterday afternoon. She had planned it for New Year's Day, but we got six inches (15.24 cm) of snow the night before, and she figured it was too dangerous for us old folk to drive. I certainly agreed.
These sort of gathering have always gotten on my nerves, but it's worse now that there are all sorts of small children around. The entire entertainment consist of the grown-ups trying to dictate the children's behavior and teach them how to act like adults long before their time. I hate seeing the people I grew up around become teachers instead of friends. .
My siblings are all stodgy assholes, and they're attempting to teach each other's grandchildren how to be stodgy assholes like their children are. Thank God my children and grandchildren live all the way across the United States, and are for all practical purposes, unavailable for this bullshit.
Of course, they are available to my ex-wive's families who I can only assume does the same thing when they get together. I'll bet your family does the same thing. My siblings don't have anything to say to each other much. All communication is about the children's stupidly acting like children. My siblings and I were raised by a couple of school teachers.
My two older sisters are retired school teachers, but neither me or my brothers finished college, and so my brothers are worse about "teaching" any available, totally indefensible kid around than even my fussy sisters are. They're lucky I don't feed their children to the hogs to save them from a fate worse than death. Of course, nobody in my immediate family raises hogs anymore. We buy 95% of the food we eat from the grocery store.
I left my sister's house pretty soon as I finished eating. I was sneaky about it. I eased out the back door and pretended to go sit alone in my car for a while, you know, to digest the huge meal. After about ten minutes of working in the crossword puzzle book I keep in my car, I cranked it up as silently as possible, and slowly drove out the driveway and got the hell outta Dodge.
Nobody I know or have known uses salt water to clean their sinuses. I learned to do it in my late teens when I began to adopt yoga as a way to stay fit and limber, for all the good that did. They appear to think it's undignified in some manner. I don't understand this, but it's real to them and I've learned over the years to leave them to their ignorance. "Where ignorance is bliss...", ignore them.
Now, with the silver colloids I'm just beginning to use, I may have found an ever better way to kill the germs and bacteria that gather in my sinus cavities and Eustachian tubes. for the last fifty years I've used about a teaspoon of regular table salt mixed in about six ounces of tepid water to clean my sinuses.
In the past, when I did this routinely, I would hold the glass of warm salt water under my nostrils, close off one side at a time, and then inhale/suck the water up into the one nostril until I felt the water hit the back of my throat. Then, I would close off the open nostril and blow against the clamped openings to force the water up into my sinuses, and then, into my Eustachian tube on the same side as I put the water into, then do the other side.
The salt water kills most of the accumulated germs and loosens the snot, and when I finally blow my nose that pretty much does what it gonna do when I do that. It's always been my intent to do this to kill the bacteria there. If my sinuses and other head cavities are infected it burns like crazy. I'm not joking. Try it. You will know what I mean by "crazy".
The salt water running over the infected areas kills the germs, but it really hurts. The anticipation of this pain has stopped me from doing it when I'm feeling achy like I have the flu, and thus stops me when I need to do it the most, but eventually I have to do it or go to a doctor. This is very undesirable. I do it anyway. Aiiiyyyyeeeee!!
With the silver colloid water I don't have to do any of that to kill the germs in my head cavities. I filled an eight fluid ounce brown spray bottle with the silver colloid. This bottle was designed to hold hydrogen peroxide. That's why it is brown. To keep light from messing with the peroxide, and why it works well for keeping the colloid water. It produces a very fine mist.
Closing off one nostril at a time and sucking up the misty spray does two things. It pulls the silver colloid up into my sinuses and Eustachian tubes, but it also pulls it down into my poor, mistreated lungs. I smoked two packs of tobacco cigarettes for decades, until I stopped three years ago.
The real difference in me using silver colloids to do this instead of salt water is basically that the salt desolves and dissipates in a very short amount of time, and the nano-sized silver particles last longer. I don't know how much longer or if they actually last longer at all. With the crap I'm coughing up I can readily see how much good it's doing. It's easier and less messy, and it doesn't hurt at all. That's improvement. Either that or I'm pretending it is, and that's okay with me.
❦
Thank goodness the weekend is over and all the worker bees have returned to their duties. My older sister had a delayed curried shrimp dinner party yesterday afternoon. She had planned it for New Year's Day, but we got six inches (15.24 cm) of snow the night before, and she figured it was too dangerous for us old folk to drive. I certainly agreed.
These sort of gathering have always gotten on my nerves, but it's worse now that there are all sorts of small children around. The entire entertainment consist of the grown-ups trying to dictate the children's behavior and teach them how to act like adults long before their time. I hate seeing the people I grew up around become teachers instead of friends. .
My siblings are all stodgy assholes, and they're attempting to teach each other's grandchildren how to be stodgy assholes like their children are. Thank God my children and grandchildren live all the way across the United States, and are for all practical purposes, unavailable for this bullshit.
Of course, they are available to my ex-wive's families who I can only assume does the same thing when they get together. I'll bet your family does the same thing. My siblings don't have anything to say to each other much. All communication is about the children's stupidly acting like children. My siblings and I were raised by a couple of school teachers.
My two older sisters are retired school teachers, but neither me or my brothers finished college, and so my brothers are worse about "teaching" any available, totally indefensible kid around than even my fussy sisters are. They're lucky I don't feed their children to the hogs to save them from a fate worse than death. Of course, nobody in my immediate family raises hogs anymore. We buy 95% of the food we eat from the grocery store.
I left my sister's house pretty soon as I finished eating. I was sneaky about it. I eased out the back door and pretended to go sit alone in my car for a while, you know, to digest the huge meal. After about ten minutes of working in the crossword puzzle book I keep in my car, I cranked it up as silently as possible, and slowly drove out the driveway and got the hell outta Dodge.
Nobody I know or have known uses salt water to clean their sinuses. I learned to do it in my late teens when I began to adopt yoga as a way to stay fit and limber, for all the good that did. They appear to think it's undignified in some manner. I don't understand this, but it's real to them and I've learned over the years to leave them to their ignorance. "Where ignorance is bliss...", ignore them.
Now, with the silver colloids I'm just beginning to use, I may have found an ever better way to kill the germs and bacteria that gather in my sinus cavities and Eustachian tubes. for the last fifty years I've used about a teaspoon of regular table salt mixed in about six ounces of tepid water to clean my sinuses.
In the past, when I did this routinely, I would hold the glass of warm salt water under my nostrils, close off one side at a time, and then inhale/suck the water up into the one nostril until I felt the water hit the back of my throat. Then, I would close off the open nostril and blow against the clamped openings to force the water up into my sinuses, and then, into my Eustachian tube on the same side as I put the water into, then do the other side.
The salt water kills most of the accumulated germs and loosens the snot, and when I finally blow my nose that pretty much does what it gonna do when I do that. It's always been my intent to do this to kill the bacteria there. If my sinuses and other head cavities are infected it burns like crazy. I'm not joking. Try it. You will know what I mean by "crazy".
The salt water running over the infected areas kills the germs, but it really hurts. The anticipation of this pain has stopped me from doing it when I'm feeling achy like I have the flu, and thus stops me when I need to do it the most, but eventually I have to do it or go to a doctor. This is very undesirable. I do it anyway. Aiiiyyyyeeeee!!
With the silver colloid water I don't have to do any of that to kill the germs in my head cavities. I filled an eight fluid ounce brown spray bottle with the silver colloid. This bottle was designed to hold hydrogen peroxide. That's why it is brown. To keep light from messing with the peroxide, and why it works well for keeping the colloid water. It produces a very fine mist.
Closing off one nostril at a time and sucking up the misty spray does two things. It pulls the silver colloid up into my sinuses and Eustachian tubes, but it also pulls it down into my poor, mistreated lungs. I smoked two packs of tobacco cigarettes for decades, until I stopped three years ago.
The real difference in me using silver colloids to do this instead of salt water is basically that the salt desolves and dissipates in a very short amount of time, and the nano-sized silver particles last longer. I don't know how much longer or if they actually last longer at all. With the crap I'm coughing up I can readily see how much good it's doing. It's easier and less messy, and it doesn't hurt at all. That's improvement. Either that or I'm pretending it is, and that's okay with me.
❦
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Hi Yo Silver
❧
The silver wire came with no problem, and I've already fixed up my first batch of silver colloids without any real difficulty. It's not rocket science to get this to happen. The most remote thing for me to understand about this process was how long to leave the battery power on in order to get the right amount of silver into the distilled water.
Most of the videos that said anything about this referenced the color of the water in order to tell how many parts per million were in the water. The criteria was basically how yellow the water became. Slightly yellow meant 4-5 ppm (parts per million), Yellow approached 8-12 ppm, and amber, according to how deep amber it turned, represented above 18-20+ ppm. The lower ranges seemed to be the most recommended for killing bacteria and fungi, and several of the videos said greater amounts didn't really help.
Finally, in the last video on making colloid silver I watched, the presenter demonstrated exactly how to use the laser light to tell about how much silver had accumulated. I have a laser light. I bought it at the check-out counter at Wal-Mart a year ago. I really bought it for the included LED flashlight. The red laser beam was a plus because I've been curious since I've never actually owned one. The whole deal cost less than $2.
I didn't really understand the laser method the guy was talking about until the silver wires had been dropped into the water for a couple of hours. That's how long the process had been activated by the batteries when I watched the last video. Suddenly, I realized the laser light was laying right there in front of me and I didn't even have to look for it.
The water "looked like" it had some silver in it. I had put the distilled water into a quart-sized glass canning jar. The combination of glass and silver seemed reminiscent of old fashion mirrors. I sort of knew the silver had to be in there to get that impression, but I had no definitive way of proving it. Soon after I pointed the laser at the glass jar full of distilled water I found out what it was all about.
The silver colloid parts are nano sized particles that remain in suspension in the water for a long time. I don't know how long. When I shone the red laser beam in the water the silver colloids reflected the red laser light right where the beam penetrated the water in a straight, laser-beam line all the way from one side of the jar to the other.
It reminded me of a jewel thief movie where the jewels were protected by a detection system that used laser beams the thief couldn't see. If the thief's body broke the laser line the alarm sounded. The way the thief overcame this was to blow cigarette smoke into the room, and the laser beams popped right into view where the smoke got in the way, but it didn't trigger the alarm.
The transformer I employed to do the same thing I did with the three nine volt batteries hooked up in parallel didn't work. The three batteries combine to put 27 volts on the silver wire. The transformer reduced the 120 volt house current to 20 volts. Apparently that is not enough, but maybe the transformer itself don't work or maybe my soldering job didn't do right.
Drinking the silver colloid water has not been all that pleasant. Maybe it's because of one of the videos that featured this guy who claimed to be a pharmacist. He made some silver colloid water and then dumped the equivalent of some stomach acid into it, and the reflectively bright water turned into an unappetizing gray mush.
This pharmacist guy suggested that drinking the silver colloid didn't do much good, but his view differs from every other video I watched. He said the idea was to get the silver nano particles into the blood stream, and the best way to do that was to give yourself an enema, or at least, to hold a mouthful of it under your tongue so that it could be absorbed into the blood sublingually before the stomach acid transformed it.
Trying to get a liquid to stay under my tongue to get the sublingual absorption to happen is not easy. I tried to hold my tongue up against the roof of my mouth to make the areas below my tongue available until I got bored with that and swallowed it.
All the videos seemed to agree that the colloid silver water needs to be stored out of the sunlight, and preferably in a dark amber-colored glass container. I have a couple of small plastic dark brown spray bottles that came with hydrogen peroxide in them. I dumped one of them and put the colloid water in it so I could spray it on my skin, and up into my sinus cavities.
This approach may work best for me. This stuff purportedly kills most every bacteria known to man. That seems a little over the top for me, but I'm used to putting saline water up my nostrils because of sinus blockage. I've had lots less problems in this area since I stopped smoking tobacco, but I still get stuffed up fairly regularly, and have to take steps to alleviate such conditions.
It's my opinion that if a person can get high snorting stuff up their nose like cocaine, then the silver colloids will get absorbed in a like manner, and thus avoid coming in contact with my stomach acids. I may give myself an enema, but I doubt it. I'd have to buy the equipment to do that, and I never forget I'm a miser.
Between spraying the silver colloid water on the skin of my hands and feet and holding some of the water in my mouth with my tongue placed against the top of my mouth, and spraying it up into each nostril while I'm sucking it up into my sinuses, that will get enough in my blood stream to to what this stuff does.
❦
The silver wire came with no problem, and I've already fixed up my first batch of silver colloids without any real difficulty. It's not rocket science to get this to happen. The most remote thing for me to understand about this process was how long to leave the battery power on in order to get the right amount of silver into the distilled water.
Most of the videos that said anything about this referenced the color of the water in order to tell how many parts per million were in the water. The criteria was basically how yellow the water became. Slightly yellow meant 4-5 ppm (parts per million), Yellow approached 8-12 ppm, and amber, according to how deep amber it turned, represented above 18-20+ ppm. The lower ranges seemed to be the most recommended for killing bacteria and fungi, and several of the videos said greater amounts didn't really help.
Finally, in the last video on making colloid silver I watched, the presenter demonstrated exactly how to use the laser light to tell about how much silver had accumulated. I have a laser light. I bought it at the check-out counter at Wal-Mart a year ago. I really bought it for the included LED flashlight. The red laser beam was a plus because I've been curious since I've never actually owned one. The whole deal cost less than $2.
I didn't really understand the laser method the guy was talking about until the silver wires had been dropped into the water for a couple of hours. That's how long the process had been activated by the batteries when I watched the last video. Suddenly, I realized the laser light was laying right there in front of me and I didn't even have to look for it.
The water "looked like" it had some silver in it. I had put the distilled water into a quart-sized glass canning jar. The combination of glass and silver seemed reminiscent of old fashion mirrors. I sort of knew the silver had to be in there to get that impression, but I had no definitive way of proving it. Soon after I pointed the laser at the glass jar full of distilled water I found out what it was all about.
The silver colloid parts are nano sized particles that remain in suspension in the water for a long time. I don't know how long. When I shone the red laser beam in the water the silver colloids reflected the red laser light right where the beam penetrated the water in a straight, laser-beam line all the way from one side of the jar to the other.
It reminded me of a jewel thief movie where the jewels were protected by a detection system that used laser beams the thief couldn't see. If the thief's body broke the laser line the alarm sounded. The way the thief overcame this was to blow cigarette smoke into the room, and the laser beams popped right into view where the smoke got in the way, but it didn't trigger the alarm.
The transformer I employed to do the same thing I did with the three nine volt batteries hooked up in parallel didn't work. The three batteries combine to put 27 volts on the silver wire. The transformer reduced the 120 volt house current to 20 volts. Apparently that is not enough, but maybe the transformer itself don't work or maybe my soldering job didn't do right.
Drinking the silver colloid water has not been all that pleasant. Maybe it's because of one of the videos that featured this guy who claimed to be a pharmacist. He made some silver colloid water and then dumped the equivalent of some stomach acid into it, and the reflectively bright water turned into an unappetizing gray mush.
This pharmacist guy suggested that drinking the silver colloid didn't do much good, but his view differs from every other video I watched. He said the idea was to get the silver nano particles into the blood stream, and the best way to do that was to give yourself an enema, or at least, to hold a mouthful of it under your tongue so that it could be absorbed into the blood sublingually before the stomach acid transformed it.
Trying to get a liquid to stay under my tongue to get the sublingual absorption to happen is not easy. I tried to hold my tongue up against the roof of my mouth to make the areas below my tongue available until I got bored with that and swallowed it.
All the videos seemed to agree that the colloid silver water needs to be stored out of the sunlight, and preferably in a dark amber-colored glass container. I have a couple of small plastic dark brown spray bottles that came with hydrogen peroxide in them. I dumped one of them and put the colloid water in it so I could spray it on my skin, and up into my sinus cavities.
This approach may work best for me. This stuff purportedly kills most every bacteria known to man. That seems a little over the top for me, but I'm used to putting saline water up my nostrils because of sinus blockage. I've had lots less problems in this area since I stopped smoking tobacco, but I still get stuffed up fairly regularly, and have to take steps to alleviate such conditions.
It's my opinion that if a person can get high snorting stuff up their nose like cocaine, then the silver colloids will get absorbed in a like manner, and thus avoid coming in contact with my stomach acids. I may give myself an enema, but I doubt it. I'd have to buy the equipment to do that, and I never forget I'm a miser.
Between spraying the silver colloid water on the skin of my hands and feet and holding some of the water in my mouth with my tongue placed against the top of my mouth, and spraying it up into each nostril while I'm sucking it up into my sinuses, that will get enough in my blood stream to to what this stuff does.
❦
Saturday, February 5, 2011
A Story Of My Hands
❧
The Apple TrackPad I bought a while back has taken a long time to get used to. I still don't use it to play Minesweeper, but use the Everywhere Mouse by logitech. The Everywhere mouse is hard to get away from. It has to be the best regular type of mouse I've ever used. I don't think I'll get away from using both. Sometime at the same time.
My first-hand knowledge that I had rheumatoid arthritis showed up as what I considered to be carpal-tunnel syndrome. It took a couple of years or more for me to get diagnosed with RA. I've had serious problems with my hands and wrists for years. Buying the TrackPad was one of the best moves I could have made as far as giving my hands and wrists a break.
The touch feature of the TrackPad takes some getting used to. Mostly, it's remembering to use those touch and swipe features instead of reaching for the standard mouse. Once I developed a habit of using the TrackPad it got easier to operate, and remarkably, with the softest, teeny tiniest touch. That's great for my RA pains.
Playing the major and minor scales on my digital piano is not done with the "softest, teeny tiniest touch". I get bored just mechanically moving up and down the keyboard, so a lotta times I start trying to play the scales in a more dramatic fashion so that I noodle my way up the scale and come crashing down to the bottom of it with pizzazz!
That's fun, but sometimes it's hell on my fingers. I am, however, moving right along while playing the scales now. First I learned to play the major scales, then added the relative minor to each major scale. The relative minor uses the same piano keys as the major scale, I just start four half-steps lower, and move around the Circle of Fifths in one direction, and now, more recently, the other direction around the Circle of Fifths again.
My youngest brother may be going insane. When I got up this morning and checked my e-mail I had a post from him with this link attached to it:
http://www.ted.com/talks/christopher_mcdougall_are_we_born_to_run.html
This speaker talks about being a runner and reiterates the story going around about how homo sapiens' greatest feature is the ability to sweat and run for long distances. I've written about this before. It's not my idea, but I sorta think it's probably true.
He talked about how humans learned to hunt in packs in order to stampede their prey and then chase after them until they had a heat stroke. It's because furry animals, including horses, don't sweat as profusely as humans do.
Humans can run for hours in the heat of the day, and as long as they hydrate occasionally they'll be fine. Not the animals they prey upon though. Animals like the grazing stock of the savannas can run really fast, but not that far running all out. The packs of humans stampede them and run after them until they fall down exhausted, and then all the humans need to do is bonk them in the haid caveman style. THUD!!
The TEDtalk video is pretty interesting, but I'm fairly familiar with the ideas he seemed espoused to. Even when he started talking about running long distance races barefooted and how the injuries he and most long distant runners suffer from all disappeared once he started running barefooted.
I'm suspicious about why my brother sent me this link. His 64th birthday just happened January 28th. Everybody realizes that Aquarians are known for their eccentricities. I think my brother is gonna start taking our walks together barefooted. Maybe I will too. What else we got to do?
❦
The Apple TrackPad I bought a while back has taken a long time to get used to. I still don't use it to play Minesweeper, but use the Everywhere Mouse by logitech. The Everywhere mouse is hard to get away from. It has to be the best regular type of mouse I've ever used. I don't think I'll get away from using both. Sometime at the same time.
My first-hand knowledge that I had rheumatoid arthritis showed up as what I considered to be carpal-tunnel syndrome. It took a couple of years or more for me to get diagnosed with RA. I've had serious problems with my hands and wrists for years. Buying the TrackPad was one of the best moves I could have made as far as giving my hands and wrists a break.
The touch feature of the TrackPad takes some getting used to. Mostly, it's remembering to use those touch and swipe features instead of reaching for the standard mouse. Once I developed a habit of using the TrackPad it got easier to operate, and remarkably, with the softest, teeny tiniest touch. That's great for my RA pains.
Playing the major and minor scales on my digital piano is not done with the "softest, teeny tiniest touch". I get bored just mechanically moving up and down the keyboard, so a lotta times I start trying to play the scales in a more dramatic fashion so that I noodle my way up the scale and come crashing down to the bottom of it with pizzazz!
That's fun, but sometimes it's hell on my fingers. I am, however, moving right along while playing the scales now. First I learned to play the major scales, then added the relative minor to each major scale. The relative minor uses the same piano keys as the major scale, I just start four half-steps lower, and move around the Circle of Fifths in one direction, and now, more recently, the other direction around the Circle of Fifths again.
My youngest brother may be going insane. When I got up this morning and checked my e-mail I had a post from him with this link attached to it:
http://www.ted.com/talks/christopher_mcdougall_are_we_born_to_run.html
This speaker talks about being a runner and reiterates the story going around about how homo sapiens' greatest feature is the ability to sweat and run for long distances. I've written about this before. It's not my idea, but I sorta think it's probably true.
He talked about how humans learned to hunt in packs in order to stampede their prey and then chase after them until they had a heat stroke. It's because furry animals, including horses, don't sweat as profusely as humans do.
Humans can run for hours in the heat of the day, and as long as they hydrate occasionally they'll be fine. Not the animals they prey upon though. Animals like the grazing stock of the savannas can run really fast, but not that far running all out. The packs of humans stampede them and run after them until they fall down exhausted, and then all the humans need to do is bonk them in the haid caveman style. THUD!!
The TEDtalk video is pretty interesting, but I'm fairly familiar with the ideas he seemed espoused to. Even when he started talking about running long distance races barefooted and how the injuries he and most long distant runners suffer from all disappeared once he started running barefooted.
I'm suspicious about why my brother sent me this link. His 64th birthday just happened January 28th. Everybody realizes that Aquarians are known for their eccentricities. I think my brother is gonna start taking our walks together barefooted. Maybe I will too. What else we got to do?
❦
Friday, February 4, 2011
Rain, Rain
❧
If all the rain we are getting was snow it would be four feet deep. It hasn't stopped raining all day. It just slows down once in a while. The temperature hasn't varied since yesterday when it started rained more that five degrees either up or down. At least there are no hurricanes now. It's the wrong time of the year for that.
As you might imagine, there isn't much going on at my house today. There has been no e-mail except from the iPhone group I sub to just to get some sense of what's going on. I've considered getting a smart phone, and if I did it would probably be an iPhone. Now that I might get a free phone because I'm so poor, I may settle for that and get an iPad instead. I really need a reliable GPS with Google Maps.
I've never even owned a cell phone before. The biggest disadvantage to not having one is the mobility it allows. Since I've never had one I don't know what I'm missing. Getting a smartphone would be another digital step up the ladder even from a cell phone. Maybe I should start small.
Recently I ordered some silver wire to make silver colloids with. I've been a little nervous about whether the place I ordered it from was legit. Today I got an e-mail saying that the wire was shipped late Wednesday through the Post Office, and he provided me with a number to trace the delivery.
Ordering stuff over the internet with a debit card is a risky business. I've only been ripped off once that I know about. I did have to get a new debit card because the scam at TJMaxx. They got my numbers, but Visa caught it and cancelled my old account before they used them. I'm happy (or will be happy) to think I've found a reliable source for silver.
The silver colloids I make will be my first experience with using silver as an antibiotic except for the Silverdene I mentioned previously. I intend to drink some of it, but right now I'm thinking of how useful it could be to me externally. Particularly as a deodorant.
My skin is getting so thin now that I hate to take too many showers. It's really tough on my skin. Silver kills the bacteria that causes perspiration odor. Using a silver colloid solution in a spray bottle could make my old body and well-worn clothes a lot easier to deal with in public.
The main purpose of using the silver colloids externally is the bacteria and fungi everybody picks up just by living in the world. I've very eager to find out if the application of silver colloids will keep the lesions associated with the rheumatoid arthritis at bay.
I was real surprised the Silverdene worked. I seem convinced it worked because the lesions didn't respond to anything else I'd used to get them to heal up. The fact that it did work as an antibiotic seems to indicate that these lesions are associated with external bacteria, and that hadn't seemed possible before.
None of the usual omens for these lesion being infected were present. If the silver wire arrives soon I'll be able to find out for sure that the silver acting as an antibiotic will work for me on these lesions in the future. I'm not being pessimistic to expect them to be there in the future.
I really haven't had a handle of what I've needed to do to stop or prevent them. I've shown these sore spots to several doctors, and for the most part they ignored then and didn't consider them to be any sort of threat. To be candid, the only real problem they've been in the past has been cosmetic. They look icky. Nobody wants that.
❦
If all the rain we are getting was snow it would be four feet deep. It hasn't stopped raining all day. It just slows down once in a while. The temperature hasn't varied since yesterday when it started rained more that five degrees either up or down. At least there are no hurricanes now. It's the wrong time of the year for that.
As you might imagine, there isn't much going on at my house today. There has been no e-mail except from the iPhone group I sub to just to get some sense of what's going on. I've considered getting a smart phone, and if I did it would probably be an iPhone. Now that I might get a free phone because I'm so poor, I may settle for that and get an iPad instead. I really need a reliable GPS with Google Maps.
I've never even owned a cell phone before. The biggest disadvantage to not having one is the mobility it allows. Since I've never had one I don't know what I'm missing. Getting a smartphone would be another digital step up the ladder even from a cell phone. Maybe I should start small.
Recently I ordered some silver wire to make silver colloids with. I've been a little nervous about whether the place I ordered it from was legit. Today I got an e-mail saying that the wire was shipped late Wednesday through the Post Office, and he provided me with a number to trace the delivery.
Ordering stuff over the internet with a debit card is a risky business. I've only been ripped off once that I know about. I did have to get a new debit card because the scam at TJMaxx. They got my numbers, but Visa caught it and cancelled my old account before they used them. I'm happy (or will be happy) to think I've found a reliable source for silver.
The silver colloids I make will be my first experience with using silver as an antibiotic except for the Silverdene I mentioned previously. I intend to drink some of it, but right now I'm thinking of how useful it could be to me externally. Particularly as a deodorant.
My skin is getting so thin now that I hate to take too many showers. It's really tough on my skin. Silver kills the bacteria that causes perspiration odor. Using a silver colloid solution in a spray bottle could make my old body and well-worn clothes a lot easier to deal with in public.
The main purpose of using the silver colloids externally is the bacteria and fungi everybody picks up just by living in the world. I've very eager to find out if the application of silver colloids will keep the lesions associated with the rheumatoid arthritis at bay.
I was real surprised the Silverdene worked. I seem convinced it worked because the lesions didn't respond to anything else I'd used to get them to heal up. The fact that it did work as an antibiotic seems to indicate that these lesions are associated with external bacteria, and that hadn't seemed possible before.
None of the usual omens for these lesion being infected were present. If the silver wire arrives soon I'll be able to find out for sure that the silver acting as an antibiotic will work for me on these lesions in the future. I'm not being pessimistic to expect them to be there in the future.
I really haven't had a handle of what I've needed to do to stop or prevent them. I've shown these sore spots to several doctors, and for the most part they ignored then and didn't consider them to be any sort of threat. To be candid, the only real problem they've been in the past has been cosmetic. They look icky. Nobody wants that.
❦
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