The Diary Project

Weekly Journal

A Tempting Temple
But Buying It Would Have Been A Travesty

Not Much

DREAM: He'd taken his time, waited until it felt right, and not rushed, allowing him to roll perfect nineteen's {on 3D6, presumably} for his character over the course of the previous night. No one believed him.

WRITING: Monday has become dedicated to editing Last week's Journal Entry. Between composing, writing, and editing, this project likely takes far more time than I imagine. Certainly, it's a sizeable (and/or major) fraction of my output... and free-time, as well. On the other hand, I'm enjoying both the Poems & Headlines, immensely.

WALK: No. By the time I was ready, it was raining. It doesn't matter, though. I was on the edge of not going, anyway.

FOOD: Beef Stew & Lemon Thyme Rice.

It's time to update the website, going live with everything in the repository. I haven't done that in around three months, as it's a pain. But I went looking for The Data Dump and could not find it online. So, I guess that's new {since last I updated}.

Oh, I only have my computer up and running so often. Lying in bed (as I am now), if I want to see a page, I go to the live version... same as anybody else. It helps to keep me honest. How long would I have gone without an update? Who really knows? Not Today can extend forward for a really long time.

Monk Life

DREAM: The four of us stayed together as we travelled. It started on a mountain trail. Two slid down the side. I do not know how sliding after them helped. But I did. There was a bus ride (maybe), where I forgot about the two. But the guy with the watch was there. And when we got off, it was time to catch a trolley car. And we all grouped together, going so far as to use the scarves {as factored into the mountain side adventure}, as a sort safety rope, the three anchoring themselves as I held onto one end. The point is we stayed together for some time. And as I faded {i.e. awoke from The Dream}, the one indicated a certain degree of respect on account of my knowing we should get off at the next stop, saying something along the lines of how it was helpful for a person to know where they were going. It was significant that we travelled together {and for so long}. That's the thing, the important thing, as it doesn't much matter to note that the guy with the watch had a hard time telling the time on account of his coat sleeve being too tight.

The Final Sacrament: A Temple converted to a Goth Dance Club with seemingly Crucified Go-Go Dancers lining the walls.

Blind Brothers Bake Shop: A monastic order of blind monks, who sell baked goods to make ends meet.

The question is how to make use of an old temple, which is for sale.

Last Rite Cafe

The Mysteries of The Shrouded Mushroom



Unfortunately, it would appear the temple is impractical. Go figure. It's not straightforward impractical. Well, it is. But one would likely not guess exactly why. You see, the temple is old enough that the inside plumbing consists of a grand total of two sinks and a single toilet, which is fairly thin considering. This lack is on account of its age. I don't have the history, but I'd guess the original structure had no amenities, like, at all. And though the plumbing is sparse, that's not the only problem. Still, a temple. It would be cool.

The movie The Money Pit comes rapidly to mind.

Sleep Walking Through Fall

DREAM: Shooting candy for my popsicle lover while trying to advance to the next level in this game of the moral good.

DREAM: We were playing War or Shoot 'em Up. And I wound up with all four whiffle bats {which is what we were using as pretend guns}. But I couldn't tell you if I cheated or not. One had to call out location while shooting (or at least, shoot accurately). And I wasn't convinced they ever got me... until we were head-to-head. And then, I think I shot first.

The Hot Chocolate Rebellion

FEEL: Lazy. No worries. Something will call. I will get tired of sitting... or I won't.

WRITING: Nothing calls (see above). It's hard to call one five minute edit of a Quickie Recipe writing. I'd rather daydream... or watch the darkness behind my eyelids slowly grow.

FEEL: I'm not in a bad mood. I would not describe things negatively. I'm just unmotivated. And even though I find myself musing about The Temple, those musings are clearly not of this world. {I've mentally (so, for daydreaming purposes) relocated The Temple so it resides in the center of a cemetery rather than a city street.}

WALK: Let's get rich. Also, that Rap Music (playing on the basketball courts) is repetitively simple. Though, if it rolled into me, I can see how it could lift me up. So, I'll have to let it in... at least, a little.

Drat! I repositioned myself to hear their music better and the ones blasting the music stopped playing basketball.

Never mind. The music is on {again, a different group}. Solid Rap. Trust a white boy to have no musical taste.

The Worship Of Money

MEDIA: Ideal Home. These Dads Suck. Its surprisingly good... or at least, the first half is.

And All The Universe Winds Down

Let's Make Thor Proud

DREAM: I had (for weeks) a computer tablet that I was suppose to return or place in the lost and found. But I never did. Getting ready meant taking a shower. But this took forever. The shower growing to the size of a small swimming pool, which I shared with a near indestructible fly. But I think it went down the drain eventually. Luckily, I ended the shower wearing dress clothes. But they were the wrong ones. I never made it to where I was going. Though, it is sort of amazing that even though I was running late at the start, I could do all these extraneous things, and still maybe make it {to wherever I was going} on time. Well, by the end, I was maybe expecting to miss the first bit of school {so, that's where I was going}. In the end, I'd interpret the errant computer tablet as relating to my growing disinterest in writing.

DREAM: It turns out I was not going to be one of the partners for the new spin-off law firm. As such, I don't know why they bothered inviting me to the meeting in the first place.

The tablet/fly/shower dream was hours ago. But I'd wake up, review, and sort of Fall back asleep carrying on.

I feel that I am doing Dreams wrong. Rather than recall, I should (maybe, probably) try to control, modify, or narrate.

But what or how do I wish to Dream? What needs changing?

Hours later, I have decided Guided Dreams are the answer. Tonight (for, I need not formulate a long-term goal), I shall go swimming in a lily pad filled swamp with maybe a stream and a waterfall. In short, it would appear I wish to go Creek Crawling.

And in trying to put together an ideal Creek Crawling Outfit for the days of my youth, I came up with an Old Polyester Suit as purchased from a Thrift Shop. It's certainly disposable, looks unique (has character, can you see tromping through the backwoods in a tuxedo), and probably cleans fairly easily. "Wash on high, shrink it down, and you get a nice tight weave made from a non-toxic non-biodegradable skin-safe polymer. It's almost like a suit of armor. And it looks pretty snazzy to boot... but I've learned it's best to use The Real McCoy when it comes to protective footwear."

CC (Creek Crawler): Mud Boots, Long Underwear, Tuxedo, Combat Cowboy Hat... But full on SCUBA works, as well.

I'm having a hard time remembering which way The Creek Ran. Right now, I'm probably combining two creeks.

FOOD: Bacon & Honeyed Mellon w/ Thyme

MEDIA: Chicago 7

Well, I believe there is an error in my record keeping. Two at 1:30, instead.

FOOD: Bacon Grease Brownies

I haven't been to the library in so long, I've run out of scratch paper. I've started a notebook. Let's see how long it takes to fill. I'd auction it off, but I don't think I'd get any bids.

{Bids (not that I seriously expect any) should be sent via email. I will choose (or not) the best (and/or brightest) completely at my own discretion, with the winner getting a notebook filled with scratched out words and phrases as used over the course of years (perhaps) in the creation of this site and however else I feel like using said notebook in the interim.}

How much for the ramblings of a madman, in condensed note form, scratched out, and un-annotated?

Ink (pencil, and possibly whatever; but probably just ink... perhaps, pencil) on semi-dotted half-graph bound promotional-paper: circa 2020 → ???

The booklet is nice enough, I took the reserve {notebook, a second notebook just like this one} and put it into play as a cell phone coaster, just where the previous one has been sitting for going on two years... or maybe, it's just been a year-and-a-half.

Can it be that rather than modify the tense (and/or meaning) of a verb correctly, I'm inclined to throw a clarify participle (and/or phrase) at the end of a sentence, like this, done thusly?

There was a debate, tonight. I did not find it as interesting as the first and zoned out most of it.

Some significant fraction (1/6 or more with 1/4 being fairly aggressive and likely too much so) of the eligible voters already have cast their ballots.

In the end, I question whether I made Thor proud. But what that might mean beyond physical hedonistic pleasure I am unsure.

If not yours, then whose?

A Day In The Life

WRITING: I guess that's how I'm spending the morning. But it's more a case of what else is there to do rather than a genuine desire.

WRITING: A Theory Of Everything. The rough draft. I guess, I got my second wind.

WALK: It's time to get ready for winter. Best to think of The Season as an informal Lock-Down.

MEDIA: The Festival

If Acid Cat & MDMA Kitty are not a thing, they probably should be.

The Ends Were Good

DREAM: Here and there (but not very often), I find myself on a space station, something out there, call it a ship. It's usually got problems. Luckily, we fixed it this time (likely, by using in-between Dreams mind control tricks: i.e. by willing it, thinking it through). The Dream ended with us sunning ourselves on some sort of moon rock, waiting for the pods to explode. Oh, I guess there was some sort of passenger problem, with there being too many, or something. The stowaways must have morphed into hydrogen bombs that thankfully didn't need to be set off.

DREAM: There was some sort of property dispute (not even involving me and I believe peacefully settled). But all the same, I was in the county clerk's office trying to get help. The box had bound volumes with the appropriate sample forms. But I found the loose Tarot cards {in the bottom of said box} far more interesting. I guess the thing to do was invite the super patriot guard over for lunch (and/or after work) and he'd explain more. But I was supposed to be captaining a soccer game {instead of having the conversation}, so I was a bit distracted.

So far, falling into a preplanned set scene {in My Dreams} has not gone as planned. Eh, I'm not trying very hard.

Back in the day, I worked Fast Food. I liked making sandwiches... and working the grill. I'd tend to work off the register speaker, while others were more prone to work off the expediter's latest request, who by definition was working a few beats behind.

A system under stress tends to show its leaks.

WRITING: Not Much. But step by step, it does seem to add up.

Dissipate & Disappear

WALK: Lost in anger. But at least, I redirected it partially to Story Time. Also, I may have been hungry.

FOOD: Basically, a Tomato Sandwich. It was pretty awesome.

4:52PM: Besides the sandwich, I've had 1-1/2 Cups Hot Chocolate and a fistful of Tortilla Chips topped lightly with Sour Cream and Green Salsa. So, hunger is likely implicated in my anger. Thus, I've stowed a package of Beef Jerky in my army coat as a contingency measure.

Man, that sandwich was good.

SORT: Two more baseballs out the door.

Let's Get Into The Future

I seem to load a song upon awakening pretty consistently. For the last few days, it has been Billy Joel's Pressure. Thus, I awoke and used the toilet upwards of three times last nice; and each time, Pressure started up.

Upon returning to bed and closing my eyes, it seemed as though different scenes were flickering by too fast to really know what they were about. But I am going to guess they were the possible dreams, thoughts waiting for an audience.

I tend not to believe. But that is incorrect. I tend to look for the hole. And if found, that is refutation enough. I need look no further.

Were Humans created for the sole purpose of solving Human Morality?

If Wine Is A Sacrament: I like the idea of alcohol consumption being a rite and/or ritual. And thus, words spoken in conjunction with its consumption become an oath... or if not an oath, a prayer, which in turn can be thought of as a renewal of a previous oath of allegiance to a belief... which most typically is a codified rule of conduct.

MEDIA: Borat - The New One. At what point (in either ethics or law) does intent cease to have meaning? I can't see how this does not reduce into a conception that at some point ignorance becomes intentional; and therefore, constitutes willful intent.

"I think I just needed reminding that I was actually doing something," I could recently be heard to not be saying to no one in particular, because I did not, in point of fact, say it.

Where can we go next? It's a question of the mind.

It's takes the edge off life.

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