The Diary Project

Weekly Journal

Back From When I Was A Young Man

Game Day

DREAM: The gun wouldn't shoot. But when it did, he was a crack shot.

DREAM: The Mossy Wooded Cliff by the Ocean was covered in Ancient Hand Carved Runes. There was a Museum down below. While up above, tools were laid about for a demonstration of a work in progress. All in all, it was laid out like a National Park.

DREAM: Mumbley Peg {playing a knife throwing game} in the grass with The Kid {a personal nickname for another, akin to a shortened version of Billy The Kid}. The grass lawn used to be a pool. Lots of folks around at the end. Children, mostly.

DREAM: Following another car so closely, it was almost like riding in the back seat... until I changed lanes, when they no longer wished to race.

WRITING: Editing

CIV: Game 10 is no more. I lost. On to Game 11 on The Ram God Cooked Map.

FOOD: Homemade Beef Larb: It's sort of ironic, but the origins for this Weekly Journal Project can be traced through a desire to not eat at the same Restaurant twice (i.e. no duplicates for a year), followed by a desire to catalogue the same.

TAX: 8942... or something like that. The goal is to be done by my birthday. {But since today is that day and my taxes are not done, I can report the goal was not met. But if important, I could print and mail my taxes today. All that is left is a brief double-check.}

At least, I did some writing today. Mostly, I'm just playing. There's a Thunderstorm moving through.

EYES: They're better this last hour. I don't know why. Water? One eye only? {By which I mean, walking around only using one eye at a time, which is something I do.} Maybe, it was the Tax Forms, which were particularly stressful... i.e. straining. {And now that it's over, it's over.}

MUSIC: Third Eye Blind - Semi-Charmed Life
MUSIC: The Wallflowers - One Headlight
MUSIC: Counting Crows - Mr Jones

R&R: 3x1-1

I'll not be tracking Lottery. But we are in The Game. Back in the day, I'd spend well over $100/month. It's much less than that, now.

Whoops! I messed up on The Lottery. {It's a particular small draw rather than a particularly large one, as I missed a draw in there somewhere.} Is that lucky or unlucky?

Pretty Much

CIV: Let us hit End Turn.

I am tired. I got to sleep late, thinking too hard. And woke up early, starting in on the thinking, right away. I don't think the thoughts were particularly important, though.

CIV: Pretty much straight through. It was a lot of End Turn button pushing. I have a very compact empire.

1:41PM: All of my devices are now on Central Time. Pretty much... is pretty much the phrase of the day. Whatever. I say run with it. Anyway, pretty much all of the time I spent in/on Hawaii, I lived on California Time. To which I can hear The Local response. "Eh, brah. Island Time, yeah. It all soon 'nuff." Of course, I hardly speak pidgin. So, it {pretty much} be {pretty much} wrong, yeah.

TAX: 1040... First Pass!

WALK: It's a hot day. I smell. I like smelling. Now, I want it to wash off {eventually}. But for the moment, the stench is invigorating. Let's see if I can push myself (through the boredom, as much as anything else) to do four laps through the grass.

Mr Stinky!


FOOD: Meat! It's what's for dinner. BBQ Bonanza.

MEDIA: The Boys: I think I failed to mention another aborted attempt at Orphan Black in there somewhere.

VISION: CIV Board. It's not surprising this got burned into my mind, today. It's sort of interesting how the still parts are still and the movement/motion parts are all jumbled together, a flurry of activity.

A Day Of Vengeance

When are Drones going to start Washing Skyscraper Windows?

DREAM: The Power Plant was open to tours. While waiting, we got some swag: Star Mint Candy (imitation) Key Rings, a very nice (fine and nearly translucent) dice set with rolling board, two other things (much bigger), and a Turkey Roaster. So, better swag than normal. I didn't bother with the stickers. The lot {of five items} was difficult to carry. So, I missed the first part of the tour trying to stash it in the cafeteria. Met up with the group in the Monkey Room: some sort of Hit The Mole simulation. "So, we can see what it's like." Then, we got separated from The Group, again. I really don't travel well with others in Dream Land. Finally, in the cafeteria (once again), there were these great cookies: thin, topped will a runny exotic fruit preserve. I got to taste the cookie. It was delightful (not that I can remember the flavour) and got my fingers sticky. Clearly, it was related to the ribs we had last night: Ribs, BBQ Beef, Slaw, Beans, Potato Salad.

DREAM: There was a House Boat suspended in the air on a metal circular suspension rod with only a few other things attached (a smallish garage-size block for and aft with larger counterweight opposite). It could disconnect from it's dock and rotate around... much faster than practical. It was for sale. We could afford it. But the entire time I was wondering why I wasn't freaking out. As it went around in it's slow arc (1-4 revolutions per hour), the building banked {tilted sideways}. And I was constantly looking at the ground. Highly impractical. Easy to rent the extra room. Just a Tourist Resort Gimmick. A House. A Boat. Hey, on one circuit, we saw a whale in the ocean; on another, I spotted bent eyeglasses on the linoleum floor of a shopping center. {The Revolving Boat House itself was the centerpiece for a Tourist Resort Complex.}

DREAM: In waking up from yet another Dream, I started playing-back (i.e. remembering) the first. Whatever hooks I recalled in the night, I've lost. Recalling (preserving for the morning) the one, does get in the way of temporarily rejoicing in the many. {This is not the best of notes. And I'm not entirely sure of the references (i.e. what 'the first' means). But I do remember that there had been an earlier Dream that I had remembered at the time; but now (later, in the morning), I had forgotten. And that's really the gist.}

CIV: The Game is as good as won. But then, I've thought that many times before.

MUSIC: Judas Priest - You've Got Another Thing Coming, Skillet - The Resistance, Pitbull w/ Christina Aguilera - Feel This Moment

TAX: I'm almost done. Eh, it might not seem so from the entries to come. But I could get it out today if I had to... or in the mail first thing tomorrow, if we're going to be more reasonable.

MUSIC: Psychedelic Trance Mix

I'm having a hard time psychic myself up for a walk.

All The {Baseball} Teams are practising. I wonder when the first game is?

WALK: Four Laps!

FOOD: My Famous Homemade Chili! A New Batch!

MEDIA: The Boys

Let us sleep.

Much Walk Need Dog

DREAM: On a Field Trip at a Natural History Museum with a Church Group, while waiting to meet up with the rest of the group (odd, how we always get separated), I painted a large boulder with a delightfully eerie Clown Face and transferred it to a shirt (green), as a Turtle. It was pretty awesome (as an uneven transfer with the Turtle's Head going up the left shoulder). I gave the shirt to another. It was his shirt to begin with. He had wanted a signature (as I was a famous artist) and was upset I wanted him to wear the shirt rather than sell it (for $40,000+).

Headache. I started noticing the warning signs during yesterday's walk. I'm sure it's from too much Computer Time: Games, don't you know.

Anger. I have my issues. You know who you are. And if not, you're a Dumb F---! Eh, either way, you're a Dumb F---!

SORT: I got rid of the remaining CD's. I've got other things to do with My time. Though, if I remember and am motivated (and so far, I really haven't been), I'll give a listen to a few Duran Duran and Wallflower songs.

CIV: Quick End Turns getting to the Next Tech and Preparing for War. It's all keyed up. The first action {upon resuming} will be to Declare War.

Diving and Swim Lessons look to be moving forward.

That Helicopter is looking for something.

Two Little League Games with Sparse Spectators.

WALK: Far Park. Two Laps. Home. Far Park. Three Laps. Let's call it a day.

MUSE: I don't know if it's as much a story idea, as a simple desire. Start walking and keep going until the money runs out.

I am Angry. My Birthday is in a few days. I don't mind growing old. Though, as said, going blind would suck. But being old? Eventually it will bring death... and release... or just more of the same... or much much worse. But I do not fear or worry about it. Anger has a way of pushing both fear and worry aside. Nonetheless, I dread the possibility of certain correspondence. I do not need your Birthday Wishes (or anything else from you) ever again.

I'm piggybacking on another's phone/data plan. If that falls through, I'm not getting one of my own. I will likely just go silent.

I really would be an alcoholic... if it worked.

Maybe, most Angry Drunks are angry before they get drunk. And the liquor just gives them the courage to show it.

The Sunsets have been Firing, as of late.

Humpty Dumpty...

Very Very Hot

DREAM: Cards - Need to collect sets of five. Coupons - Hard to find the right one in such a stack. Money - A few fives and twenties mixed in with the ones.

WALK: An early one, with company.

I had myself a good cry. No sense crying over spilt milk, you say? Unfortunately, I'd say that's about the only time I cry.

Convulsive Tears are a Lie Detector of sorts for me. I do not cry over that which my heart does not believe to be true. {Though, as I grow older, I am becoming more and more interested in the idea of acting... or at least, performance.}

CIV: I've got a Two Front War going. I'm crushing it on the one front. While on the other, I'm trying to limit my losses. Still, the moment Peace is Declared, The Game will be over. So, this really is the Last Hurrah.

WRITING: I composed a Goodbye Letter of sorts. It may look like a Hail Mary. But I have No Faith in a Positive Reception. Eh, it's been a good run... or, no. Really, it has been not. All can hardly be well, if it doesn't end well.

If my chips are worthless, so are yours.

WRITING: The letter was good... maybe. But it's true intent was to capture an emotional moment in time. And the moment having passed, so has the emotion... shifting ever so slightly as it goes.

WALK: Four Laps!

The Next Brood of Ducks is coming along.{But yesterday, I just saw the one. And the time before, just two. So, I know not how many... or how few.}

Meth Gators & Ebola Bunnies! Things are looking up.

No Fireworks Expected

Let's lay awake in the middle of the night, shall we?

Horrible sleep last night. But at least, I saw the sunrise.

And here I am, lying in bed, at the end of the day.

There was a Tea Party, while we (inclusive of my darling, so others need not apply), watched Pride & Prejudice.

Leftover Homemade Spaghetti for dinner.

CIV: The Game is over. I won... if one wants to label the eleventh attempt on a map a win. Still, it's satisfying.

The Big Event was the evening fireworks, highly distributed throughout the neighbourhood, as we (the same we as above) walked around, seeing what we could see. It was quite plentiful.

A Possum scurried across our path. I'm pretty sure that's good luck.

And what else happened today?


WRITING: The Pirate Shop Rant. Short and Sweet. It's got me smiling. Though, I question it's widespread appeal.

11:36: And the Fireworks continue to go off... sporadically. Reminds me of Hawaii.

I no longer expect positive resolution. And so, my anger has turned to bemused wonder. People suck. People are stupid. Gads, it's amazing we're still around.

Psychopathy is a crap diagnosis, linked to flippancy, which is an enlightened response in many situations... like when dealing with stupid humans {who you just know have no hope of understanding you}.

My Last Day Of Youth

SORT: I am going through my data. My Website weighs a little over a gig. And I'd like to keep everything else to under 2 gigs. {So, 3 gigs total.} Though, that last {both of them, in fact} is a cheating number. But it represents primary data that would be emotionally painful to lose. There is quite a bit more that would merely be inconvenience to lose... or such an eventuality would not be as desired. Anyway, I reduced a failed business project down to a few megabytes.

WRITING: I finished Pirate Ship and moved on to The Game (CIV) Write-up. I am not overly motivated.

MUSE: The AI restricts most Humans to Mega Cities. The penalty for any infraction is death, so there really aren't that many {infractions, those being predisposed having been previously disposed}, while The Guardians are sexy bio-automations. "There isn't any rule against fraternization. And I'm sure you'd enjoy it. But I wouldn't. So, it's not going to happen." With the conception being the human isn't good enough... though, that can change over time. {And if I can figure out a good start and end (from unworthy to worthy), I've got myself a romance... of sorts. For someday, I shall write again. I got a novel length piece of writing out over the winter season. So, I still write, even if it's a much lower priority activity, these days.}

R&R: 3x1-1

I'm not sure what you want. But I'd love to hear how you think you're going to get from here to there.

WALK: The Love of My Life and Myself sat on The Bench in The Far Park in The Hot Sun, talking politics. I would embellish further. But relating anything more than the (barest of) facts in Viking Society (i.e. Ancient Icelandic Society) was against the law lest a man be deemed more (and thus, be given false praise) or less (how insulting) than was his due. And don't even think about besmirching my woman's' honor or you won't live long enough to be sorry.

MUSE: "I'm Whisper Man. I don't need a Tag Line." Whisper Man is a Wannabe Bad Boy (so, a comically over the top Anti Hero of questionable merit), who Whisper-Yells everything in a raspy voice and is more than a little put-out when he has to repeat himself. "Whisper Man. I'm... Whisper... Man. On account of how I Whisper-Yell everything. It's ironic. Ironic. Irony. Like how my Tag Line is not having a Tag Line."

MUSIC: Stephen Stills - Treetop Flyer
MUSIC: Steve Miller Band - Fly Like An Eagle: It's been too long since I listened to this. I am a Synthesizer Cowboy... whatever that means. Eh, it means nothing. Connoisseur is the word my mind was searching for... as in, Synthesizer Connoisseur. But I'm keeping the error, as sometimes I appreciate the glitches.
MUSIC: Manfred Mann's Earth Band - Blinded By The Light: Back in the day, this was in my Top Ten.

And now, please excuse me, as transcribing further notes would get in the way of my life.

MUSIC: Grateful Dead - Touch Of Grey, Friend Of The Devil, Uncle John's Band

MUSIC: Brewer & Shipley - One Toke Over The Line

"Ain't found The Witch that can <something-something... something>."

"I'm not even mad. I might even bother to tell ----- what a giant piece of ship they are." Can you see me smiling. On the Eve of My Birthday, I am manic.

I've found The Source of My Anger. And if I am not angry at It, I am not angry at anything.

CIV: It's odd how my unrelated In Life Anger faded with In Game Success.

And suddenly, music fails to interest.

I'll be 55 in the morning. I want to do some 5-5 or 5x5 projects {over the course of the year}.

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Goodbye, bittersweet memories of youth.

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