The Diary Project

Weekly Journal

Words! Words! Words!

Light Blue Sky Background, Glare from the sun comming up from bottom, a lens distorion making a sun type image (or a light circle) in the upper right

This feels like it could be the start of a Snow Plow Story.

Mo'Day! Mo'Day! Mo'Day!

DREAM: Pieces of yarn thumb-tacked to the wall acted like a second blanket to help keep me warm.

DREAM: Washing hands with the powdered soap (water draining directly into a waste basket, residue soap getting everywhere) was the most memorable thing about a skyscraper party.

DREAM: That was a bit of a tight squeeze. It's sort of surprising how many times it is.

DREAM: At the buffet, we switched seats, which seemed a bit like a premonition of a premature death {for someone} upon waking.

DREAM: I do tend to eat quite a bit {i.e. consume more than my fair share of food} in My Dreams. The most memorable food from the night was a jelly filled turnover type pastry. But there were thin slices of meat and cheese at the skyscraper party. And the final dream (not highlighted) was little more than a multi-course meal, with our neighbors the next table over sharing.

FEEL: The depression is palpable. It's getting hard to move.

There's a thin line between depression, boredom, and waiting for the next thing. I mean, it feels like the next thing I am waiting for is death. But I'm pretty stupid and have managed to find motivation throughout my life pursuing false dreams. Of course, I had the advantage of not being completely (one-hundred percent) sure the dreams were false, at the time.

SORT: Clay Poker Chips. I put these aside a few days ago. It's a wonder how little I care about objects. Originally, the chips came with a cool jewelry box... which I don't know if I'd ever have bought if a load of poker chips didn't fall out while I was looking at it, breaking a few, and making me feel compelled to shell out the five bucks for the lot. {This was at a second hand store. Otherwise, the box would have cost a few dollars more... and the chips, no doubt, secured a bit better.}

Back in my early thirties, I was looking for a hobby playing with clay and making poker chips seemed like it might fit the bill... until my hands touched clay, that is.

I'm doing most of my laundry by hand, these days. But it was time to do the sheets. And wouldn't you know it? In-between washer and drier a work crew showed up, slowing my transfer from one to the other (from washer to drier) by a good hour.

MUSIC: Bruce Springsteen... and other oldies. It was quite the jam session.

FOOD: Spaghetti. I've gotten some real mileage out of that last batch. Just two pounds of meat. But I'm mixing it a bit light {i.e. there are more noodles than pure decadent hedonism requires}. Still, it's tasty. And I'm not missing anything: i.e. I don't feel deprived.

SORT: Boy Scout Pin. Does it bring back good memories? Did I earn it? Do I care about The Scouts? No. No. And, No. So, why have I kept it this long? To The Bin! {Although I was in The Boy Scouts, the pin is a flea market find from my twenties or thirties. And I'd be hard pressed to name a good memory from my time in Scouting. It was fine. But nothing to be proud about.}

SORT: Smile Rock & River Rock. The former was given to me at a Church Retreat back in HS {aka High School} by an unnamed, unfaced, unremembered other. The second was pocketed the night before the flood on The Buffalo River when I made that journey. Neither seems overly magical. +/-30 Years is more than enough time to have spent with either. To The Duck Pond with them, as a more honourable disposal {than merely chucking them in the bin} seems appropriate.

{I don't know the exact dates. So, let's say for a few years back in the late eighties and early nineties I owned some land in Arkansas and at some point decided to follow the creek that (more-or-less) started on my property (i.e. Cold Water Creek) to New Orleans. I did not get to New Orleans. But I had a fun few weeks. And the flood in question happened the night I passed the junction between The Buffalo River and The White River.}

Let us say a few words {to commemorate the trinkets mentioned above}:
Boy Scout Pin: "Let the accomplishment always be trash or always be treasure." In my life, the 'accomplishment' was hardly ever the latter.
Smile Rock: "After Honour, Hedonism." Why keep a rock that symbolizes happiness, when I haven't really been so... in a long time... a depressingly long time?
River Rock: "I'm turning the bend." I wonder if My Travelling Days are over. I should have travelled more in My Mind... into My Mind.

WALK: It's a busy park, complete with Fence Jumping Youngsters. Shame. Shame.

Deployment Dogs!

Some things are harder to let go of than others.

A desperate person could still retrieve {the aforementioned trinkets}. Just noting. I am not second guessing myself.


{Two patrol cars (by which I mean covered light trucks and/or wagons with flashing lights attached) blocked an intersection where it appeared there had been an accident. Proving once again, that one lives longer if they never live at all.}

Have The Foreign Guys started a Boxing and/or Martial Arts Club in the parking lot? They've got a punching bag set up {which has subsequently disappeared}.

SORT: Promo Pencil. Never Sharpened. Yes, it's a small item. Eh, it feels like progress throwing it out, which might have been part of the anticipated appeal upon acquisition. Someday, I will want a pencil and not have one; at which point, I will splurge... or start trolling The Library, once again.

I'm sure a Statical Analysis would show the beginning and end of the weeks have longer entries, as I am more aware of posting at these times. Content (especially Meta Content such as this) can be easily manufactured. Often, it's a matter of desire. And maintaining a certain length of (weekly) entry is a desire.

MEDIA: Vexed - Season Two. I'm glad they changed the female lead. I'd be happy if they changed her again at the end of this season, as part of a running gag/theme.


DREAM: The previous two {waiters, I presume} having shown how it's done, he {presumably, the manager} just handed over the keys and told the other to check the patrons eating outside El Fresco and see if they needed anything. Bam. Done.

DREAM: We had completely moved into a house that we hadn't even made an offer on {and thus, did not own}. How does stuff like that even happen?

DREAM: The balloons (along with everything else) were not staying put on the storage shelf, pushing out (the posters and hanging blinds) on the backside.

DREAM: These descriptions aren't very good. What needs to change?

Financial Stuff. I've gotten lax. I don't care. I don't feel like spending time on this. Still...

WRITING: Seth. Some of my stuff just works... for me, if for no one else. I'd like the end to be a mite stronger. But the majority will not notice or care... or will they?

MUSIC: Simon & Garfunkle - The Sound Of Silence. I made a note to listen to this song, yesterday.

MUSIC: Gordon Lightfoot - If You Could Read My Mind

FOOD: Leftover Fried Chicken

WALK: It's been hard to think about laps, lately. I blame the smoke... even if it doesn't feel particularly smokey, today.

Sitting on a park bench, I feel like an old man... a tired old man.

Covid Cluelessness: The inability to read facial expressions on account of coming of age in the time of Covid when everyone's face was covered with a mask.


Up Early. It's 8AM. And I maybe awoke around five or six... getting out of bed at about 7:30AM.

Daylight Savings epitomizes all that is wrong with the world. It was easier to change time itself rather than a simple work schedule.

MEDIA: Resume Writing. Eh, it came up in my feed and sounded interesting. I'm not planning on doing anything with the knowledge. {My current feed (of which I am interested, I get plenty of static) consists of PysTrance Music, DefCon Computer Security Talks, and Terrence McKenna. Though, at this point, Terrence may have run his course.}

MATH: Peano Arithmetic

N-KLI: The War Veteran Robot That Lives Next Door. Human Brain Remains. Remainder Robotic. Says name was Nikolai; but in truth, that information is classified. Runs A Vacation Home... or hangs out with neighbor kids. Could even be a condo. The idea has potential. My War Robot After The Wandering Years.

Not going to worry about your eyes? Fine. How about this?


DREAM: A ten man gymnastic pyramid with one man at the bottom holding up the rest. If I were to identify with any (so, it's a forced choice), it would be the guy third from the bottom.

DREAM: Packing went easy. I made change for a fiver. There was some sort of ocean liner or ferry we were waiting to get on. But once I gathered the ticket receipts for their cars (more like fortune cookie fortunes than printed receipts) the people faded away. And I was left alone next to big tubs of watermelon, wondering how best to grab a load for the trip: dump the water, add the watermelon from one tub to another, and get help carrying the load. Problem Solved!

WRITING: Posted Seth

SORT: It may not seem associated. But reducing the files on my computer sort of (so, sort of) falls into this category. Anyway, the goal is to reduce my memory footprint. And I killed upwards of 10meg of space (so, be impressed {this is a joke, 10meg is not much}) by assuming My Long Term Back Ups will hold and aggressively reducing The Working Image.

MEDIA: DefCon Videos

Lately, I've been getting real sluggish at the end of the day. I blame the smoke.

Sizzle! Sizzle!

DREAM: A guy in a canteen food wagon was going to make me an awesome cup of hot chocolate out of some (or lots and lots) of super rich chocolate that I had, which was totally {like, totally} loaded with cocoa butter.

DREAM: The sandwiches were wrapped in {tablecloth style red-checkered} wax paper, top exposed, which consisted of another slice of bread topped with wax paper. It worked like a mouth. Double bread on the top if you want to minimalize it. But these were primo sandwiches made of a nice potato bread.

DREAM: Gads, but the homework assignment on the blackboard was impossible to read. My high school math teacher was in charge. I get really mad in these situations, muttering, cursing, driving my pen down through stacks of paper.

DREAM: It was a golf cart ride from one part of the castle (visitor center) to the other part that I'd joked about owning. Ocean, rocky cliffs, and a sharp stone spire landscape separated the two. But it was the ride though town which was memorable, hitting the whoop-de-dos (hillocks) and lifting a few inches out of our seats. Fun. I think I knew I was dreaming at this point.

DREAM: To celebrate, she'd gotten a car (an old-time pre-war luxury sedan). But was a bit careless, as she'd left it in neutral and it rolled into a ditch. No matter, as moments later we're racing down wet streets with our seat-belts off. I'm expecting a news headline about our demise. But we stop, negotiate the intersection. And that's when the bad guy car shows up, roaring, gunning it's engine, looking for trouble. But the dream fades. So, nothing happens... except a bit of racing.

DREAM: During that last car ride, I could not understand another on the phone, which seems like a wonderful metaphor for missed (and/or worthless) communication.

DREAM: That's a lot of Dream Content. And writing it down does help to remember. I was really mad in math class.

DREAM: After that ride from the castle in the golf cart type wagon (or maybe, it was after the math class), we wound up in some kind of waiting room. I changed seats to get next to My Sweetie (much like snuggling in bed), beating another to the new location. If I work on The assumption these are all metaphors for neural connections, I wonder how I'm messing up my mind. On the other hand, first come first served does seem like a good rule for neural connections.

Just because a person isn't a good hedonist (i.e. an effective hedonist) doesn't mean they are not a hedonist.

To CIV or Not To CIV?

It turns out, To Not...

WRITING: Besides This Journal Project, the big push is to publish the old stuff to My Site. I did not write (or edit, mostly writing means editing these days). But I did identify two old projects with numerous items each, whose time to push forward has arrived.

EYES: Cataracts Assumed. I find that reassuring. An operation awaits. But the other side won't be any better. My vision was tanking in other ways, before.

SORT: Red Silk Dress. I've officially abandoned my Mano-a-Mano (aka Man to Man) Trans Transition. I'm just going to stay a Man. And not go full on Trans Man. So, I don't need the skirt. And for those who are not totally offended (as if I could ever pull off being a Trans Man) and are still reading ("Hey, Hardcore Fan") the original intent was to fashion some kind of Covid Mask out of the silk skirt. But I have both {four} store bought masks and better raw material... all courtesy of My True Love. So, I really don't need the skirt. See how that goes? Get silk dress (a grey-blue fade), skirt (scarlet red), and blouse (pitch black), ditch the skirt three months later, and call it progress.

FOOD: Mediterranean Meat Platter
FOOD: Sardines w/ Blue Cheese
FOOD: Remainder of Mediterranean Meat Platter

Road Trip!

Road Trip!

Lotsa Lotsa Birthdays!

War Drive

DREAM: In the shower I gave birth (i.e. excreted) three (rather large) toy robots (red, green, and blue... or maybe, one was yellow) for reasons unknown. They soon disappeared, leaving behind the dirtiest Dream Time Shower I can remember.

WRITING: I posted a few GigglesWorth Labels. But the main reason I turned on my computer (already off again, as I lay back down in bed) was to write a movie review for I'm Thinking of Ending This, which we finished last night.

Recently (perhaps, yesterday), I was told good laws are like fences but bad laws are like cattle prods, the difference being one of compulsion. But since a fence can be constructed out of cattle prods and an electric fence (whether it is constructed out of cattle prods or not) can be moved, the difference is semantic, meaning any positive statement can be formulated in the negative: !!X = X, after all.

PROHIBITION: Don't Commit Murder
REGULATION: Only Take A Human Life As Lawfully Allowed
PROHIBITION: Don't Unlawfully Take A Human Life (i.e. Murder)

Speaking of which, I continue to like the formulation of Honour Before Hedonism. Although I intended this as an Ethical Construction, I wonder if this is a recipe, as well. If so, this would be the operating force (as God can work through an agent if He wants to) behind Prosperity Gospel.

Honour → Hedonism
Honour Before Hedonism
Honour Begets Hedonism

What A Person Must Do → What A Person Would Do

Must Do → Would Do

And thus, we derive Karma: Cause & Effect: The turning of a material recipe into An Ethical Ideal.

Snow Plow:: Let us re-imagine our youth, wherein shovelling driveways clear of snow in winter led to ownership of a Willis Jeep in my early teen years... and a fair bit of extra cash earned in a legitimate manner: Boy Scout Military Tie In (Veteran, Pay It Forward & Back) - Open Air Convertible Requires Full Winter Kit (Snow Suit w/ Shoes, Survival & Rescue Gear, along with Snow Plow, Chains, and Ski-Tread Extensions) - "Must have got some exotic tastes while overseas," meaning an Italianio under the hood (Power Train, Fuel, Steering, Brakes, and Suspension, inclusive) - Erik The Wreck (Erik from rk from WrECk from WEC from Wile E Coyote from Willis); so perhaps, of Scandinavian Design {under the hood}, which leads to Sven HaxenSkuhlsHunder The Mythical Chief Mechanical Officer in Charge, as "I go where The Jeeps go. And The Jeeps go where I go. So I guess I'm in charge of a lot of things." - Command Control Communications Unit (w/ Hi-Altitude Radio & Radar, "The Onboard Computer being a bit of an upgrade.") - Dad brought WErCk back from The War - Container Load (Jeep, Saab Racing Body, stacks of engines and parts, "The Full Requisition. Had to stay over extra for that. And seeing as there wasn't much to do...") - War Stories (Sven's name changes to commemorate The Occasion: Hero Stories, Saviour Stories) - Father Man's The Radio Home Base ("What? You can bounce a signal off the moon but you can't stay in contact with your old man through a blizzard?" "Ironic how close RM: Radio Maintenance is to RR: Rest & Relaxation and RS: Radio Silence in the Call Book. Enjoy your date, son.") - Exotic Parts ("It's always something experimental," i.e. cobbled together in the field; "Invariably adds maintenance," to check condition of questionable parts... if not a complete system overhaul required due to failure) - Four Way Stories (Mom & Dad → War, Son & Daughter → School) - Thirteenth Birthday ("You drive it; you fix it. You fix it; you drive it.") - Sixteenth Birthday ("It's all yours... gas, repairs, and upgrades, title and insurance included.") - Ride, Drive, All Alone (Garage, Home Base, Dealers Choice for money stream, as he ages) - Wild Wolf Dog ("I like to think the genotype has benefited from my stewardship.") - War Drive (Road Trip → Locate, Evade, Transmit, & Intercept)

FOOD: Leftover Hand-Sized Deli Sandwiches
FOOD: Bacon, Blue Cheese, & Leftover Finger Food Plate
FOOD: Curried Egg w/ Chutney & Raisins over Lettuce

Light Infantry is in charge of Harassing, Destroying, Commandeering, & Intercepting the Enemy Supply Lines as much and as far as possible in All Possible Modes & Directions. The line between Light Infantry and Spy, Assassin, & Terrorist becomes blurred at times.

Light Infantry is by definition the most elite force, as they who control The Food Supply (not to mention the Supply of Fuel & Munitions) controls The Battlefield. "We're gonna come up through their bellies."

Snow Patrol: He thinks he damaged a large decorative vase {in a customer's driveway} over the winter, so he sets to fix it. Husband appreciates his honesty and timely repair, while wife surreptitiously pays for repair, as it was her fault all along, but doesn't want to come clean with husband... or reverse the roles.

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Snow Plow worked out pretty well. If I could just find a way to polish it in-line in real time...

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