The Diary Project

Weekly Journal

The Negotiations Begin

Another Sunset Photo from a week or two ago (depending upon whether one measures from the beginning or ending of the week), which shows a smoke obscured sun, I like the image, which seems to be a qualify I need not ever add again, because if I did not like the photo, I would have deleted it

This is from a few weeks ago.
For the most, the smoke has cleared.

Less Than Manic

MUSIC: Progressive PsyTrance - Alien Ayahuasca

Last week, I said I probably wrote more at the ends of the week and less in the middle. Well, last week I wrote a lot; and so, at the start of this week, I've got plenty of editing to keep me busy. Thus, a sort of alternating pulsation {in regards to writing intensity} seems likely, as well.

WRITING: Editing The Journal. Working on two new Quickie Recipes.

Oy! It's A Fight!

DREAM: Who would have guessed it but intra-gang rivalries are decided by firearms at five paces with a deuce of motorcycles between, as both cover {during the battle} and spoils for the victor {once it is all over}.

DREAM: The cat basically shed it's skin in one fell swoop, leaving me with an oversized pelt, as it walked away fully furred.

EYES: I didn't want to open my eyes this morning (just like usual), as I didn't want to see what the new day would bring in regards to visual deficiencies... and/or difficulties.

EARS: It's really just the right one. It gets crushed in the night. Wax builds up. I get shooting pains on occasion. And it itches fairly regularly. And it just might be allergies... except for that crushing thing. But I've been up for an hour and we're all back to normal. I can hear. And it's not clogged. My standards are pretty low.

FEEL: Anger. It might be linked to money or fading vision. But it's more likely linked to a feeling of obligation to make a call.

"You done burnt to cinders every piece of love in my heart. All that's left is ash. And I'm clearing that out with every passing beat of my heart." {Though, if we are being critical, it should probably read 'with every passing breath' and/or 'passing curse'. For let's face it, my heart having been reduced to ash, I am not as magnanimous as I once was... and I never really was that magnanimous to begin with.}

I've done some ranting. It would be nice to output the better stuff. I was looking for a word to describe the intent. But monetize, commercialize, digitize, and legitimize all seem a bit off. My mind settled on dynamize for awhile. But what I really mean is professionalize, solidify, and finalize some kind of audio recording.

Debate Time! I'm expecting Offensive Denial... Probably on both sides.

FOOD: Chili Nachos

Hey! Let's play a drinking game! Whenever you hear "fake news" (literally or figuratively) during the debate, one must yell "Fake News!" or take a drink. For expert play, add in all forms of Lie, False, & Untrue.

WALK: This was much earlier. It was cold. My hands were cold.

The debate had a more emotional effect on me than I would have ever expected.

Whoa, There!

11:55AM: I have not been awake for that long.

FEEL: Satisfied. Content.

MEDIA: You're Probably Not Red Teaming

WRITING: Finished the notes for (and therefore, the rest of) GigglesWorth Labels. Starting on Scene Stealer... out-takes from my mind.

MUSIC: Pink Floyd. Lots & Lots.

There is a sublime pleasure to be had in smelling food being cooked for the dinner table by others.

It Begins... October, That Is

DREAM: The check was for $1,500 and made out to VW (a celebrity {guess who}). There was another check underneath the first made out to another. These were their appearance fees for a church charity auction, which was going to take-in much less money and only last an hour.

DREAM: If I line danced well enough in gym class, I could win a package of rubber gloves (one of four or more such packages). I do believe it was planned to have prizes at the end of every dance.

MEDIA: The Good Place - Season Four. Not watching now. But we have been watching as of late. It's sort of interesting how there's hardly a mention of family and certainly no actual families in The Good Place.

Mouthful of Mints!

WRITING: Posted Scene Stealer. Expanding upon Bug Hunter.

I do believe The Fancy Bread in the freezer that has a inner and outer wrapper was packaged twice: once, upon baking; and then again, upon branding. This would imply duplicate branding (at least, sometimes) or the option thereof.

Because I Followed Blindly
Because I Became Disillusioned
Because I Accepted Humanity
I Finally Became A Man

Under A New Moon, I can see how that would be the way to go. {A comment which is unrelated to the above; but rather, concerns the disposal (and/or releasing) of a Rune Stone.}

MEDIA: Broadcast News. The Ethical Dilemma is not as clear cut to me as others would have it.

Taking It Slow
Taking It Easy

I awoke fairly early (at 8:30). But two hours later and I'm still in first gear. Though, first gear does mean nibbling progress. So, let's not be uptight about it.

I think some sort of shorthand poetry is the way to go for the stories. Though, what that means is harder to say. Short. Easy to spit out. But remains pleasing... and covers the field. That's the desire. Play as I go. Or really, get the content I want as I play.

WRITING: Bug Hunter Notes Posted. Now, this is complete crap. But there is a story in the idea... if not the words I provided.

MEDIA: Terence McKenna - Jung Society. I think I am done with this.

Maybe, I have The Covid. Just walking a few steps is winding me. But then, I do exercise to exhaustion... even if I do not feel I have exercised very hard for months... and months.

EYES: They are fairly clear... a light haze.

CLEAN: Shower Curtain... and a start on the tub.

SORT: Baseball

SORT: Moon Rock. A careless offhand throw. I missed. Some rock from somewhere, the ownership of which I can trace back to my teenage years. It used to be a source of power. I have returned it under a full moon... in broad daylight, the full moon on the other side of the earth. Ha. I forgot to even try to break it.

Gads. I'm tired.

SORT: Baseball. Not a repeat. I had a team {nine of them}. And I thought about keeping three. But it is unlikely I will have any {baseballs in my possession} come the first snow.

We don't need the one.
We don't need the two.
But we got the three, four, and five.
We ain't ever gonna run out.
Not ever.
Not as long as we keep on shopping, anyhow.

FOOD: Shrimp & Vegetables Stir Fry

MEDIA: Ram Dass. Another slow talker. Clearly, it is not about the content.

Talk. Talk. Talk.
All Day Long

DREAM: [I prefer Hot Chocolate to Coffee. To the extent, Coffee really isn't much of an option.]

DREAM: The dog reminded me of a guinea pig. I liked him.

DREAM: It was difficult to agree on a game.

These descriptions are not surreal enough to be interesting... and the first one is [redacted].

DREAM: The quote (the price bid), which the order was base upon, was preserved in plastic as it was partially constructed out of some partially eaten white sauce type foodstuff. Further clarity {as to the terms and conditions} was not going to be forthcoming.

TALK: Terms to a Contract. There will be many more discussions like this. {It is what I am doing (once again, right now) between edits}.

Meditation is sounding good.

WRITING: Very light, today. I struggled with Brilliant Mind, in-between negotiations.

A Nice Respite

DREAM: There was a twin bed at the top of a tall tree in the jungle. At first, I wasn't scared. Then, I was, even going so far as to think about jumping just to be over the fall. Then, for chuckles, I was pushed-out; and therefore, clawed my way back-up without regard. About then, a herd of armored beasts emerged from the water. But I never successfully photograph such things.

DREAM: I was in some foreign Russian speaking communist cafeteria. As it was only 10AM, lunch was not ready. But the shredded pulled pork looked good in the tubs. Pity, it still needed to be heated.

DREAM: I had decks of the first six series of a collector card game. Though, the pack I rummaged through consisted of wrappers covered with a runny caramel syrup.

DREAM: There were lots of bullets to the head {of unnamed others}. Lots. An amazing amount considering I never felt a gun in my hand. Well, at least three people bit it. Two of the cars had machine guns mounted on top. I was busy getting high in the dirt to the side. A boy came through raking the dirt with his fingers looking for butts, who was followed by a drug sniffing {well, he could have been a drug sniffing} bloodhound. So, I figured the bust was on and walked away, only to watch the cops arrest three others up the way. I wonder if the most important detail is that this was all taking place in some sort of Shopping Mall Type Plaza close to closing time, so the exit was a one way door. I did not want to leave.

FOOD: Oatmeal. It's an outlier. It used to be a staple.

D@^G#r Ki++Y!

Can I write a story {about the preceding}, while trying to figure out what the preceding means?

I am at the edge of developing a full-on Alter Ego: aka A Better Version of My Self. The definitive trait of this here character (a persona, if you will) is an honourable unedited overbearing authoritarian fact-based communicorial style, bordering on the near-religious in nature and at times he can be a mite too serious. We need to change that, as in rectify that. The lack of comedic effect being a problem, I guess is what I am trying to say. A story about the nuances of digging a latrine as told from a PhD Philosopher's point of view, who also just so happens to have a Minor in Everything Else can be a bit boring at times (if not all the time), as he probes every conceivable detail of the waste stream (every nook and cranny, as it were): all in order to deliver the definitive word on what you will recall is merely the inner workings of a shit filled hole in the ground. In other words, I'm saying the guy needs to get to the point and tell a joke... perhaps one that revolves around the perpetually exploding shitters that he encountered during his time in The 'Nam.

Pop! Peel!
Pineapple Can...
I Will Feast...
Upside Down...

He's a challenger. It's not a good thing.

MUSIC: Progressive PsyTrance

Get'n Wit You!
That's My Day, Darling.

PLAY: I was planning on Sorting out a Toy Car. But I got to rolling it around in my hands and liked the feel.

WALK: Evening walk. The nights are getting longer.

Next Diary Project Entry

Home Diary Project Index

How to make negotiations more fun?

© copyright 2020 Brett Paufler