Now I’m sort of grumpy. I glanced at Facebook and saw the ugly face of politics. Then that little Hitler character the PM was celebrated by the UNIPRESS which now tries to throw a bone to the dog to suggest there’s balance. It’s us and them. As Freud said, “Maybe the Paranoids are Right”. Empire and peasants. It’s all really far above my pay grade. Each day I wake in box of a day. I focus on the present. I do the next right thing. I serve. I try to avoid thinking. Fear surrounds me. I’m in the valley of the shadow of death. I fear no evil for thou art with me. I’m plagued by doubts but cling to God. There’s love and hope. God is good all of the time.
I just walked Madigan. After his worm medication his stools have been full and formed. His appetite is better.
My furnace is working fine. Kevin from Travco is coming over later to replace the sensor. Last night he found that the old one didn’t have electricity. No reason. Just a glych. I fight glyches daily with software and hardware of the virtual reality. Communication by phone and computer. Usually some 10 people a day I see and solve their complex problems. I’m a wealth of experience and training. Yet I’m daily thinking of fishing and hunting and driving about in the south in a sarong ‘carefree’. I don’t want to spend another winter in Canada. But soon the spring and summer will be here and I’ll forget the pain of winter delivery . I was down in December. Now I’m awakening and thank God I’ve a learning vacation planned in Scotland, England and France.
I’ve plane tickets, hotels, and today will ask Thaun Vo, my favourite insurance fellow for travel insurance for Laura and me. I was pleased to exchange some Canadian money for Stirling and euros. Ive begun packing my bag. I put the slippers in there. I am still hoping to get a Nikon Coolpix A1000 as back up to the iPhone 13 camera. I did download maps and guides to the iPhone. I had considered getting another gps with Europe city maps but that would have been $500 and the offline maps were total $29. I’m pleased with my choice. I contacted Ralf’s about the satellite phone. I took it to Moscow and there was some limit on it’s use. I’ve asked if it will be of benefit in Europe. I took out my Hamm hand held 2 m radios then decided that it would be hassle with other languages. This week I’ll try to see if I can connect them to the computer so I would have capacity for texting with Hamm here. I don’t think I’ll take them overseas. I’ve cell and wi fi and I’ll be in cities so communication will not be a problem.
Of course Russia and NATO are standing off at the Ukraine border so uncertainty reigns. The China Seas have been a flashpoint for a couple of years and really where I believe the next war/sales bazaar will take place. The real Olympics and who gets the after war sales. Dessert Storm Arms Bazaar lead to the collapse of the USSR because their war materials were inferior to the west. I like the Canada makes the best bullet proof cars protecting all the tyrants of the world while encouraging us to use paper straws to save the planet. No one ever mentions the environmental cost of war and all the vegans are involved in that industry. I liked reading Jordan Peterson’s comment, if you think the strong man can be savage you have not yet met the weak man in power.
I just read that King James who promoted and funded the King James Bible was the great witch killer in Scotland and a flagrantly gay individual who somehow still had children. In those days they didn’t have DNA and certainly Trudeau hasn’t offered to have a DNA test even now we have the capacity to decide paternity. Maggie looks out of a drug baked haze adoringly.
I’ve no children. It’s defined my life. The choices would be so much fewer with children. My dog limits my flights of fantasy. Laura is now suggesting a cat and that too would reduce the choices. How can I fit a cat on a motorcycle.
I’m looking forward to writing about travels, art and the ideas that arise from seeing other cultures.
I dream of driving about the US following Steinback’s Travels with Charley lead. I’d have Madigan and I’d clear my head. Daily I’m bombarded with negativity and fear. Everyone is depressed and sad and lost. I’ve said it before in my next life I want to be a talent scout so people will show me their best song and dance. Now I see the worst rehearsals and the lowest forms of life, sickness at it’s worst. I supposed it was good given my optimism and energy to share it wilt those without, my Christian duty. But now I’m growing old and long to write
The difficulty is that novel writing is dialogue and I don’t like putting in quotations.
What do you think, Bill, is novel writing mostly dialogue.
It is
‘But you don’t like quotations.
Well yes. I prefer the run on paragraph
It’s your Irish stream of consciousness at work
I thought it was the carry over from smoking dope and dropping acid
It’s the spiritual oneness too, don’t forget that.
A bit of it is merely Scottish rant.
I pontificate and don’t like that. I must develop different voices for a novel.
there’s the girl voice, the man voice, the woman voice.
I really should be writing dialogue in all my writing these days to develop some new skills. I journal enough.
I like her breasts, she said.
Do lesbians like breasts too?
Of course.
Well guys like cocks.
The cock is a very nice thing. Unfortunately it’s attached to a man, she said.
I love looking at the female face. I can’t say I’m as attracted by the male face.
I am, she says, it speaks protection and strength to the estrogens. I think sexual attraction is driven by hormones and the womb.
‘yet I’ve spoken to gay men and they literally are attracted to the identical men women are.
There’s the appeal of youth too.
That must be hormonal.
They continued their walk in the park looking out over the sea. Neither thought anything of their lack of discernible features. Two ghosts in the morning mists.
It began with everyone dead , he said.
‘they’re all dead.”
I can’t imagine that much blood outside of an OR. I saw my fair share of blood there.
I didn’t think psychiatrists did surgery
You’re thinking of psychologists. Psychiatrists begin their careers with their hands literally in vaginas and their fingers up assholes. It makes us less accessible than psychologist who really shouldn’t be with patients naked. The psychologists are very appealing to the sterile youth of the rest afraid of bodily function and viruses. I’m too familiar with faces and blood splashing on my face. I relate more to the third world immigrants to the west who’ve been raised in untidy surroundings to the modern ‘politically correct’ and easily ‘triggered’ western youth dependent on their view of reality through an Xbox with clean sheets and the only squalor known being the collection of pizza boxes , roaches and beer cans. My refugee friends have seen dead bodies waiting for someone to take them out of the streets, bloating and attracting birds.
I hadn’t realized. I thought of all shrinks and therapists and such as the same.
I know. That’s becoming the appeal. The mother invasion into the field. All the kindly hand holding sorts. I miss the Karen Hornet sorts who were as smart as Freud and could hold their own in a down and dirty debate. Freud , you say women have penis envy. I’d say instead Men have Womb Envy. I think she’s right .
I think I have ‘autism spectrum disorder’. I got the first of these this year and wondered what this was about. Perfectly innocent but when bright accomplished folks with friends and good grades start ‘seeking the diagnosis’ it makes one wonder. It’s become fashionable in women’s magazines. The mothers are fearful of missing it. The diagnosis is at war with other competing diagnosis. It was like the days when the Mood Disorder fought the thought disorder and everyone was bipolar. Only days before the world of mental illness was schizophrenic thought disorder. Then suddenly everyone was bipolar and there was a fight to the death between pharmaceutical companies producing tranquilizers and others producing mood stabilizers. I entered that forum carrying the flag of trauma and personality disorder . Then I added the flag of head injury , neurocognitive disorder and addiction. Now out of nowhere there’s autism spectrum disorder breaking out of the child psychiatry box following the ADD spearhead and all manner of folk are wanting to be diagnosed autistic. Antisocial but without the bad behaviour. The schizoid personalities and dependent personality disorders and borderlines looking for a new resting place. I then found out that the government was giving students $4000 a year for the diagnosis of Autism and universities were giving ‘special accomodations’. The universities are marketting educations and overselling their arts degrees and fine arts degrees worse than Nike and Nestle. Now the failing student can become an A student with ‘support’. It’s all about privilege too. A new way of looking at things.T hey think but they forget when the mad Marxists danced naked about the bleeding virgins screaming ‘we turned Hegel on his head’. Of course they did. The Visigoth’s cheered as they entered Rome. Only much later did I realize the ‘barbarians’ were the Celts and my forebears and we let women lead us and the Roman and Jewish armies were purely patriarchal. Now we’re all facing false flags. Communism , the religion of aetheism, worshipping the State joined with the patriarch Muslim religion, the Mood God and the Sun Gods and Christianity have become ‘effete.’ I liked the religion robust and appealing to the Roman Centarians. What was it about Jesus that made soldiers follow him whereas today soldiers run from the simpering church where angry women gather to cry
I could put these words into the mouths of ducks and write a great children’s tale. I could do a book of competing bushes and trees. I could write an great hero’s journey for an adolescent and teach that the right wing of politics and the left wing of politics are just illusions for the beak and belly of the bird which plucks out the eyes of rebels .
I’d rather be a student and study mythology. I weary of chemistry. I’ve got doctorates in science and recently studied genetic code for weeks to update myself to present day to see the lies . Now I’m disillusioned. An old warrior sloughing towards Bethlehem. The beast.
I stay clear of the young and pure. My mind has been soiled by years of talking to pedophiles , the violent, rapists and victims and seeing the trauma of cigarette burns on bodies and the lash’s scars of whips and bullets and knives.
There is a soldier I saw who was wounded meany times and I fear I didn’t serve him well for he trusted me and I couldn’t relieve the pain. He blamed himself for war. The girls blamed the men. They never studied matriarchies or knew that the Iroquois who relished torture were ruled by women. The didn’t know the celts. They were writing Huffington Post articles from the safety of big daddy and blamed the white man while the black man had a hundred women slaves many of then white. Now the congress is full of girls blameing america for the ritual rapes and clitorectomies performed in their country where their anger would merely lead to death so they kill the messenger and destroy the mirror that freed them.
Who cares. They’re all dead and the past is past and I’m walking alone on an empty planet with my dog who wonders why I dig about in lost technology of a past that died out a thousand years ago when New York was just a market. It wasn’t bombs that destroyed the world but ideologies and silliness. I’m alone. Except for my dog. I’m still looking for something. Royalist or veterans or a tribe. Something. Alienation.
Vanity.
I meant to write diaglogue. I wanted a hovercraft and a flying car and a thicker suit that fit like silk but wore like jeans.
They were more interested in make up and parties when the hoards swept through Rome.
Now the court is full of marketting men and script writers and men with money and no personality seek out those who celebrate the narcissists and the narcissists long to be called autistic so they can be self centred and not feel bad about it. Everyone is ‘reframing’. It’s all in a label. The DSM is a fashion signature.
-she said as she adjusted the strap of her bra standing in the hotel room dressing after leaving him mindless on the well made bed. He dreamed of praying mantis that night alone in the Holiday Inn.
There was smells of peonies and gladiolus and black squirrels and red brown squirels chased away the pretty pink and blue birds who’d long forgotten they were dinosaurs. The insects were said to have no feelings but that was merely convenient. Bugs were as fearful as the little girls killings spiders and demonizing mouse. It’s easier to embrace a person on the other side of a computer screen or in the pages of a book. One doesn’t want to touch the sweaty.
I like the scent of her. She thinks its the perfume but it’s the phenomena. You can’t smell them but my loins stir in her prescience. We’re too old for children. The ancient photo copying codes are chuckling reminding us. She’s had so many babies. I’m special. One off. A deletion. A walking abortion. I survived the early cut but never made the team. I’m outside as only the sterile and eunuchs are. She aborted the baby and he fucked me to rub it in. I only wanted God and I knew he was of and not of this place. I was talking to an Interdimensional cat at the time and we were both playing jokes on the dog who didn’t understand metaphor.
The concrete thinkers are on the rise again and war is imminent. War and rumours of war. Give peace a chance is all I say. I’m so thankful they’re building space stations and expanding outward rather than fighting over oasis with machine guns on the back of camels.
A new day dawns and I don’t know what I’m going to do when I grow up. Follow the script. It was written long and ago and it allows for another coffee and a yoghurt at this time.
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