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Recently I have received instructions from The Adept Zondor, King of the Dwarf People of Mnomomopolous, advising me to safeguard my psychic powers. I must admit, my psychic powers have mysteriously been on the wane lately. The Adept Zondor told me of a conspiracy by unknown paranormal Cosmic entities are determined to suck up all the paranormal energy in the universe to increase their own metaphysical powers.

Actually, I did have a premonition about this situation. It was a sort of déjà vu experience in reverse. I had the feeling that I hadn’t been somewhere before, but that I will be there in the future, and then I’ll recognize it. This has put me on edge lately, as you can imagine.
I also had a synchronistic experience. I had my palm read. I usually don’t go in for palm reading as I consider this a too physical exponent of psychic abilities, but I was worried after all these unnerving telepathic experiences. The result of the Palmist was, I would soon be contacted by someone who was an exponent of necrology and an interpreter of ancient runes, and this person would introduce me to a Spiritual Master who would relate further specific information.

The Palmist also told me I would soon meet a tall, dark stranger, and to watch out for women who buy their clothes at Walmart or wear too much makeup.

At any rate, this Spiritual Master would reveal an ancient prophecy relating to the Oracle of Thesphus, whatever that is. You see, this is the problem I’ve been worried about: I don’t understand any of this stuff. Well, except for The Adept Zondor, King of the Dwarf People of Mnomomopolous, who I’ve known since childhood. See, when I was about twelve years old He appeared unrepentantly in my mother’s garden during a thunderstorm. It seems he had had an emergency landing. Somehow his astral projector had become attuned to random lightening strikes. I think he fixed that problem later, but I’m not sure.

Well, Zondor and I immediately hit it off. It was synergistic. Also, we both had a fascination for cryptozoology and the more frightening aspects of shadow people and black-eyed children, and we both admitted we look with trepidation under our beds at night before we go to sleep. Funnily enough, we also had read and enjoyed the obscure, Professor Melman’s “Encyclopedia of Psudo-Mythic Entities, Bio-Psychic-Anomalies and Precognition As It Applies To Telepathic Empathy and Remote Viewing”. A hefty tome, indeed, and unusual for two strangers to have read this rare and singular volume. I believe this is not mere coincidence, as Zondor explained it as an example of mutual and personal synchronicity.

Well, as I was saying, The Adept Zondor related that these mysterious and secret entities are collecting psychic vibrations for their own personal use and power. This frightens me, I must admit. This is because, if it is a real conspiracy, we all know conspiracies are always evil in intent. I have never known a conspiracy to be benevolent in nature. So I live in fear. I mean, who wants their psychic abilities drained off by some strange and mysterious secret society, like the Mormons, Shriners and Freemasons, for instance?

I’m just saying, we who have the psychic gift and are attuned to the metaphysical and paranormal should be on the alert. I must therefore advise astral travelers to beware of unforeseen detours that may be lurking unnoticed. There are malevolent forces about, perhaps emanating false vibrations as an evil web to catch unsuspecting voyagers on the astral plane.

Out of body experiences may have to be curtailed for a while as well until this mystery is cleared up. We all want to get safely back into our bodies, right? Perhaps for a while we should just install mirrors on our bedroom ceilings.

Clairvoyants may have already picked up some of these distortions in the Cosmic Consciousness. All information of these anomalies should be psychically reported to The Adept Zondor, King of the Dwarf People on Mnomomopolous. This now is the Celestial Clearing House for such information, even if one considers these intimations only rumor, gossip between local palmists and fortune tellers, or even hearsay among alchemists and pseudo-scientists. One can not be too careful.

Be ever on the alert.


Here Are Your Lucky Numbers

It seems from this that all lucky numbers are odd numbers, which I suppose is logical, as luck is an odd concept. Plus, anything that survives in this world must be lucky.

As to The numbers that didn't survive, evidently it's their own fault for being lazy no good slackers. 


Definition: To build the lucky number sequence, start with natural numbers. Delete every second number, leaving 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15, 17, 19, 21, ... . The second number remaining is 3, so delete every third number, leaving 1, 3, 7, 9, 13, 15, 19, 21, ... . The next number remaining is 7, so delete every 7th number, leaving 1, 3, 7, 9, 13, 15, 21, ... . The next number remaining is 9, so delete every ninth number, etc.

Those numbers were lucky they weren't crossed out.

First ten: 1, 3, 7, 9, 13, 15, 21, 25, 31, 33

There are 1118 lucky numbers below 10,000.




InterGalacticNews: Today the Zarvorians have barred the Galian Slime Eel species from entering their Sovereignty. President Slovigard stated, “We have enough slime on our planet already. Their religion rejects our God, The Divine Ogilvy, Who every civilized being knows is the only True God of the Universe. And besides, these creatures scare little children with their outlandish dress and appalling eating habits.”

Odd this comes just as Trump’s immigration ban is ordered. There are some similarities between our President Trump and President Slovigard of Zarvoria it seems. More news of the Galaxy may follow.

Zarkor and Zerak's Christmas

Our friends from the Galaxy in general, Zarkor and Zerak, have been celebrating Christmas, an obscure Earth holiday.


Zarkor especially is interested in our obscure galactic species. Of course, he considers us an inferior species, as he considers all life-forms except his own as inferior. I think he is only insecure in this sense, having been born a poor orphan. He means well.


Thing is, he got to liking Earth punk music on a random fly-by looking for an adventure. This is what first interested him in Earthlings. He even attended a punk rock concert on Earth. Funnily enough, no one considered his presence unusual that evening.


Zerak can’t quite understand Zarkor’s interest in Humans and their various cultures. He likes to relax in his home on his private planet, keeping tabs on various planetary system stock markets. Zarkor likes to be on the move, looking for exciting adventures. Usually he talks Zerak into joining him with precarious results.


Zarkor’s Dumb Luck Brain Implant usually saves the day.


Anyway, they both enjoy the Earthling Christmas season. Galactic holidays generally consist of squid-like creatures performing unintelligible rituals that we would definitely not enjoy participating in.


So, Merry Christmas from Zarkor and Zerak. (By the way, 'Zarkor's Christmas Story' I've posted in the 'Writer's and Artist's Hangout' section here. Zarkor believes in Santa, maybe you should, too.)  ::)





CC 5.jpg


Chief Dan George

Oh Great Spirit

Whose voice I hear in the winds

And whose breath gives life to the world

Hear me.


I come to you as one of your many children.

I am small and weak

I need your strength and your wisdom.


May I walk in beauty.

Make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset.

Make my hands respect the things that you have made

And my ears flock to hear your voice.


Make me wise so that I may know the things you have taught your children,

The lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock.

Make me strong so that not to be superior to my brothers,

But to be able to fight my greatest enemy, myself.


Make me ever ready to come to you with straight eyes

So that when life fades like the fading sunset

My spirit may come to you without shame.






Chief Dan George.jpg


My Brain and Me Part Two

I’ve been considering writing another story. Thing is, I haven’t finished two stories I started months ago. I just haven’t felt like writing, been doing other things lately, plus, my mind hasn’t been in the right place. This means my brain hasn’t been wanting to function as a creative writer.

The brain’s been needing some time off for a while. I can tell when my brain feels overworked and wants to shut down. I can tell this because it just shuts down one day all by itself and refuses to be moved by me. It doesn’t want to be compelled to think anymore. I can’t really blame it for this.

Thinking is a difficult process, as we all know, and this is why we usually avoid thinking whenever we think we can function without thinking. In other words, thinking about thinking is enough to discourage us from the act itself. In my case, I haven’t been able to make my brain do any thinking for a few months. This is why I haven’t written anything lately.

However, the me that is separate from my rebellious brain has been considering a new story. It’s another episode of my robot private detective. When I first thought of writing a story about a robot private detective I thought it would be a good idea, so I wrote the story, “The Case of the Crippled Replica” in my story blog. The term “Replica” would be a good term for robots in some future society, since they are all replicas of themselves, though they all have different personalities.

I suppose Humans programmed them with personalities so they wouldn’t be so boring to live with. Of course, Humans all have different personalities, and they can be boring to live with, even so. Anyway, I’m working on this convoluted plot. It has to be convoluted because it’s a detective story. Thing is, it’s difficult concocting a convoluted plot while my brain is refusing to cooperate.  

I’ll let you know if I come up with anything worthwhile, but as my brain is resisting me, don’t hold your breath in anticipation. Brains are contrary organisms, and unfortunately have a mind of their own.   




Earth - The Adventures of Zarkor and Zerak

I thought I'd put another one of these short Z&Z Adventures here again, since nobody views them on Youtube (I can't imagine why not). Well, almost nobody views there here, either. But anyway... Zarkor and Zerak are in their den in their Lightship having a little conversation, Zarkor reminiscing about past events...




Well, my Space Alien pals, Zarkor and Zerak, are at it again, they’ve been talked into making an infomercial by Uncle Zebon. Now, Uncle Zebon is basically a well-meaning life-form, except for his penchant for various dubious enterprises he’s usually promoting around the Galaxy.


When asked his legitimate means of support, Uncle Zebon will reply he’s in the import-export business. We all know what that means. At any rate, here’s a video of his infamous Informercial with poor Zarkor and Zerak as the hapless announcers…



More Rubbish From Me

More Random Stupid Stuff

Firstly, I'd like to say that you can skip the first several paragraphs below if you want to. They're not too interesting. I didn't get very enthusiastic about writing this entry until about then. Then I started to have some pretty good ideas. I even put a star (*) next to the part where it gets interesting. Interesting to me, anyway.

Also, I hope all this that follows isn't too long. Once I start writing I usually don't know when to stop. If you scroll down and think this entry is too much to read, just skip it and go somewhere else, I’ll understand. I don't like reading long stuff myself, I just like writing long stuff. In any case, this here is what I've written this time:

I was thinking about creating a new set of fictional characters. When I erroneously mentioned in some previous blog entry…

(well, see, that blog entry I’m mentioning hasn’t appeared in this blog yet, so all this is sort of mentioning something that hasn’t happened. Well, it’s happened, but no one knows about it. It’s sort of a future blog entry that relates to a past blog entry (this one) that relates to this future blog entry I haven’t posted yet. In other words, I told you, you could skip these first paragraphs.)

…that my previous fictional characters were to be retired I thought someone would protest about me deleting these other fictional characters, but as no one has complained. I guess they weren't as popular as I hoped they would be. I had devoted a lot of time and energy bringing them into their virtual existence, however. Although they're gone, (they’re not really gone because I changed my mind in this blog entry. ) somehow they still revolve around in my head, as if they were real, living friends of mine. They are still living, of course, in a virtual way. They're still doing what ever they are doing, living their virtual lives somewhere. I just don't know what they're doing anymore because I’m not writing about them anymore (actually, I am writing about them now, it’s just that in that future entry I decided to retire them...which I now have decided to keep them alive.)

* Now I'm thinking my new fictional characters that I mentioned above somewhere could be named Marcel and Tarquin. That might be interesting. They're decorating their new apartment and they say and do funny things. Like campy stuff. It could be funny, funny in a stereotypical way, though I don’t generally like stereotypes and I don’t want to offend anyone. Anyway, maybe they're both set designers for a big Hollywood movie studio. They get to meet all the glamorous movie stars and gossip about them. You know, about their real lives and how shabby and sleazy and scandalous the movie star's real lives really are.

These two guys, Marcel and Tarquin, could also be shabby and sleazy themselves. Maybe not shabby, more like disreputable and sordid. Kind of like all the rest of us, but more so. That's how they worked their way up to be Hollywood set designers. But, there is good in them, too. They're basically good people, they're just caught up in the sleazy Hollywood life-style.

Now, I know what the Hollywood life-style is like because I've seen it. It's pretty sordid and seedy. That's the real definition of glamorous. Sordid and amoral and decadent. And seedy and corrupt and self-indulgent. Come to think of it, that might not be too interesting, as it's not much different than everyone else's lives, even those who aren't Hollywood set designers.

You may think I'm being too critical here of the general population of human beings. Maybe I am, but not too much. We always think we're better than we really are, but then again, usually we're a lot of times better than what we think we are. So, maybe we're not so bad after all. Lots of us try to do the right thing, it's just sometimes our heart's not really in it. Also, sometimes we try to do the right thing because somebody else is watching.

When somebody else is watching it's like they're taking notes. Naturally, it's important to always be good when someone is writing it all down. If nobody's around we can relax and do what we really want to do. That's when we can actually have fun, when nobody's looking and taking notes. Or, usually when maybe one other person is there who you can trust not to take notes. Those are the best kinds of people. People with short memories, or people who don't pay much attention to what's going on, or people who like to have the same kind of fun as you do. Especially that last kind of person. Those are, of course, the best kind of persons to know.

Anyway, maybe I'll work on this Marcel and Tarquin thing. Then again, maybe I won't. I don't really know much about those kinds of people. I'm not against them, I just don't circulate in their social world becaueI don't live in Hollywood any more. It's too expensive, for one thing. You spend more on tips than on anything else. People who lived on tips made more money than I did. So eventually I moved out of Hollywood to somewhere else.

Where I live now I don't have to tip so much. I still have to tip, but not so much. Also, I don't have to drive so fancy a car. Just these two things in themselves save me a lot of money. And I don’t have to live in some big fancy house and wear expensive clothes. I'm all for saving money, but not for saving too much. I think it's good to spend most of your money because you might be dead tomorrow or something. After all, what good is having money in the bank when you're dead? That's stupid.

When I die I want just enough money left over for a nice funeral. That way all my obnoxious relatives who are planning on getting rich from my demise will be suitably disappointed. Even when I'm dead I think I'll enjoy disappointing my obnoxious relatives in this way, at least I hope I will somehow. That would almost make my death worthwhile.

The only kind of person I would feel sorry for are those who won't profit from my passing away, because I spent all my money while alive, are those people I talked about somewhere above. You know, the kind who liked to have the same kind of unobserved fun that I did, the kind who didn’t take notes.

I can't leave them anything in my will because I can't betray them by revealing their names. They must remain anonymous. Revealing their names in my will would be like I was taking notes on them when I wasn't supposed to.

So, unfortunately, the people I liked best and would have liked to leave some money to must forever remain unidentified and left out of my will. Sort of a Catch-22 thing.

I’m not sure if anyone can work out all this that I’ve written here, and it’s most likely not worth the effort, anyway. In reality, this blog entry is just my typical convoluted rubbish, though I do like the potential Marcel and Tarquin characters. Maybe I’ll make them become alive in some future and write down their lives. I’ll have to do some research, but probably not personal research. I could do some personal research, but I don’t know where to find these people in real life. In Hollywood they’re everywhere, but not so much where I live now.

In conclusion, if the reader thinks all this, as I say, has been difficult to follow, it’s been only slightly less difficult for me to work out myself. So, if anyone has read this up to now, thanks. I’ll try to do better next time.


I haven’t blogged here for a while, (except for The Subconscious Mind thing) if anyone’s noticed or cared. This is mainly because I’ve been resting my brain, fragile thing that it is. I know very well the signs of impending implosion, so I always stop before its too late. Too late doesn’t mean exactly becoming catatonic, but I just have to relax and not think too much.

I have to rest because I don’t’ want to reach the point of no return. I’ve almost reached the dreaded point of no return several times, and take it from me it’s not fun. It’s scary hovering at the abyss of loosing control of one’s mental functions. That’s all I’ll say about it.

I have this other interesting brain problem, besides the above cognitive overload. Oftentimes I don’t understand what people say until a moment after they’ve said it. It’s a brain delay of some sort. Sometimes when this happens I just say, “What?”, and they repeat what they’ve said, then I understand their words.

It’s like the first time doesn’t count. It’s annoying, especially in interviews, or when I was in hospital recently for eye surgery, Doctors and nurses telling me stuff or asking me questions. I occasionally found myself answering the first question after the second question was asked.

Of course, this confused the doctors or nurses. Then they had to ask the second question again. Usually by this time my brain catches up and I’m able to answer the second question and the rest of them in sequence.

I’m thinking maybe this unusual brain discrepancy of mine happens because I’m really a time-traveler. My time machine occasionally experiences a glitch or something, some temporal malfunction. I think this is a possibility.

I’m going to ask my Space Alien friends about this next time I see them. They should know, I think, if this could be true, me being a time-traveler, I mean.

It’s nice to have Space Alien friends to ask questions like this. When I ask Humans these kinds of questions, all I get are strange looks. Strange looks are no substitute for a knowledgeable answer from a technically superior member of some Alien species.

Now, Space Aliens can be pretty smart about technology, as I say, but personally they can be really stupid and lazy and annoying, or just not worth talking to. The same as Earthlings. Pretty much wherever you go in the Galaxy life-forms are the same. Mostly scary looking, I admit, but dull as dirt.

You see, most of these Inter-Galactic Alien creatures I’ve come in contact with are just highly evolved accountants or insurance salesmen, used-space ship dealers or politicians, Laundromat attendants and the like. Just like here on Earth. The dregs of society. (The word “dreg” means the least valuable part of anything.)

Actually, these lowly Alien life-forms can be very nice creatures. The problem with them is, they don’t see the Big Picture. They think their mundane and proper lives are all there is, though they do have some remote and distant feeling that there is more to it than just being Laundromat attendants, but they can’t quite seem to work it all out.

You see, very few members of Galactic society think about this Big Picture thing very often. This is probably a good thing for them. I mean, who needs Alien Laundromat attendants sitting around the Laundromat gazing into space with absent, far-away looks in their eyes? (If they actually have eyes.) Well, nobody. They need to get on with the job at hand (If they actually have hands.) so we can clean our clothes and just go home and do something more interesting.

I usually write in my stories about creatures who do wonder about the Big Picture. Their problem is, they can never quite get their minds around the thing, the Big Picture, I mean. They try, though, which is the important part. Event the most advanced Alien species who have the highest levels of intelligence in the whole Galaxy never quite grasp the Big Picture in its entirety, or even little bits of it, though some think they do.

I think the Big Picture is either so big no one can ever grasp it no matter how hard they try, or there the Big Picture doesn’t exist at all. I personally think there is a Big Picture out there somewhere, but for some reason it remains forever out of reach. This is rather cruel of it, but maybe it’s for the best.

I mean, if we did discover what the Big Picture is all about we may no longer care about clean clothes, and where would that leave all the Laundromat attendants?

I can visualize this Big Picture thing sitting somewhere, remote and arrogant, with a superior look on its face, looking down at the rest of us with disdain and contempt at our foolhardy attempts to understand it with our inferior contemplative equipment. Or maybe the Big Picture is sympathetic, pacing about fretting, feeling sorry for us and sad that our intellects can never comprehend its sublime…whatever it is.

I don’t know which of the above situations is true, but it is nice to think there is Something beside attending to slopping washing machines, admonishing customers for using too much soap or jamming in too many dirty clothes, complaining the change machine is out of quarters, having to pick up forgotten undies and dropping them delicately into trash cans, and at the end of the night mopping up at closing time.

And then these Alien-to-us citizens of the Galaxy return home, exhausted by the tedium of their meaningless labor at the Intergalactic Laundromat, to settle down to their Galacto-Vision sets to watch the latest unrealistic reality shows, which are usually re-runs anyway.

Slavogard, the Laundromat attendant, and its wife Gigliopax then retire to their bed to dream of an exciting moment wherein the Big Picture finally does reveal itself, usually in a surreal dream-like manner so that they cannot quite make it out, its Cosmic meaning distorted and indistinct, and so not actually revealed at all.

But Slavogard and Gigliopax are heroes in a way, like all of us, because we have this notion that there does exist this Big Picture somewhere, just out of reach. It’s a comforting feeling every Alien individual of this Galaxy has embedded deep within it, like a soul or a spirit. A wonderment of a mystery they cannot shake, that follows them like a distant yet intimate, loyal, caring and devoted companion all the days of their lives.

Could be worse.

In conclusion, when I feel my brain has rested enough, I’ll try to finish my on-going stories. (Foolishly, I have two on-going stories going at once, stupid stories as they might be. This multi-tasking could be a good test as to the health of my brain. If it can devise some complex, absurd conclusion to these stories I’ve gotten myself into, my brain should be able to confront any other problem it’s likely to have to deal with in real life.

Or, run away from the problem, which is its usual response.



The Subconscious Mind

I must first say that this is not a serious dissertation. Serious dissertations put people off. No one wants to read anything that's too serious. Especially if the writer goes into minute details. Only obsessive people like reading minute details about some subject. I'm not obsessive about anything, so I always leave the minute details out. I figure that way the reader has room to use his/her own imagination about stuff I leave out, or if the reader is obsessive, he/she can put in their own minute details as they will. I think that's the only fair way to be. Leave room for others to think for themselves.

So, here’s the sub-conscious stuff: (Sub-conscious mind meaning the part of your brain that is working but it’s not letting your conscious mind know what it’s doing)

I sometimes wonder what my subconscious mind is thinking that it won't tell me about. I mean, my subconscious must be working all the time, right? Thinking thinking thinking. But it only lets me know what it's thinking when it decides it wants me (the conscious me) to know what its thinking about.

It could be thinking all sorts of interesting stuff, but it keeps all these fun ideas to itself. I'm not sure why it does this. Out of spite perhaps or maybe it’s just not very interested in my conscious mind.

Now, our subconscious is the boss, isn't it? Where else do your conscious thoughts come from? I mean, thoughts don’t think themselves. If our thoughts originated in our conscious minds, our consciousness would first have to think what thought it wanted to think, then think that thought. That leads to an endless regression of thoughts thinking thoughts.

Let's just agree that all our thoughts originate in our subconscious for now, alright?

For instance, when you're trying to think of something to say or write, or just trying to remember a word or a name, you usually just stop thinking consciously and let your subconscious do the work for you. Then pretty soon the word or whatever flashes in your mind, seemingly all by itself. In other words, your conscious mind is just a helpless mimic with no original thoughts of its own. It's just a outlet so your subconscious can express itself.

In fact, your whole body is just a convenient machine and receptacle for the subconscious. Who you consider as 'the conscious You' doesn't really exist. It's the subconscious who exists. The 'You' that you think you are is just its hapless puppet. 'You' is just a fictional creation of your subconscious mind. Sort of a convenience for it. It's a convenience in the respect that when the 'You' does something particularly stupid, the 'You' gets all the blame and your subconscious goes scot-free. Even the subconscious can make a mistake now and then, but it never has to take responsibility for its error. Nice setup.

I think all this is correct, because you see, it must be my subconscious mind who is really writing this right now. I know this because my conscious mind can’t think fast enough by itself to keep up with my typing. My conscious mind doesn’t even know what I’m going to type next. I just type, and my subconscious is doing all the work.

So, in this blog entry for some reason, my subconscious mind is finally admitting the truth out loud. It’s admitting that it’s the boss, not me. It's come out of the closet, so to speak.

You may not agree with all this, but then who is it who does not agree? I think a person who does not agree with me on this subject is a person who is controlled by his/her subconscious mind that doesn't want its identity to be revealed. For its own personal reasons it doesn't want to come out of the closet, doesn’t want to admit that it is the real boss. Maybe it's afraid that if everyone's subconscious mind revealed its true identity, the fictitious part of the mind that thinks the 'Me' is in control will go mad. Or maybe the part of the mind who thinks the 'Me' is in charge is really the subconscious mind playing a joke on itself. Or rather, playing a joke on the conscious 'Me' who just thinks it’s the boss. I think this second idea is more likely.

One subconscious mind talking to another subconscious mind: "Hey, I've been making my guy think he's the real person here! He's so gullible I could almost puke. Or make him puke. How 'bout you?"

"Yeah man, I'm doing the same thing with my guy! It's a laugh, isn't it? What a jerk my guy is! I've got him actually believing it's him who's doing all this stuff that I'm making him do! He's such an un-insightful dope! These consciousnesses are really pathetic." And so on.

I think, or rather my subconscious mind thinks all this to be true. Your subconscious mind knows it is true, but it may or may not allow your conscious mind to accept it. Don't worry too much, though, this is just another one of my blog entries, not to be taken too seriously. They're supposed to be sort of humorous and light-hearted, ideas that spin around inside my head. But nevertheless, I do believe there's some truth in what I say.

Thanks for reading! :)


God, Ethical Behavior and Friends

I haven't commented about anything in a long time so I thought I'd post this Commentary. It's just more rubbish from me, of course, but I hope it's also entertaining to read. I also think there is some truth in it, maybe an uncomfortable truth, though saying something has some truth in it usually puts people off. I mean, who wants to hear the truth? Nobody.

God, Ethical Behavior and Friends

Now we all know that God doesn’t like us very much. This has been proven to me many times in my life, and for brevity I won’t go into the details. Then again, sometimes I think God just doesn’t like me in particular. That could be true. I say this because it seems God does like certain other people. Just not me.

If I think about myself realistically (which I do as little as possible), I can see why God wouldn’t like me very much. I mean, I’m basically not that great a person.

See, I’m only a great person when I pretend to be a great person. This is not too difficult for me, because I’m good at being sneaky and sucking up to people. I’ve had to practice this nearly all my life and I’ve become rather expert at it. I do this because it’s a profitable way to live, as I usually get what I want when I do this. It’s a form of self-reliance, which I’m told is a good thing.

I do this pretty often (the sucking-up and pretending). Well, actually, as often as I can, which is pretty much all the time. This kind of behavior may seem to some to be unethical, but let me tell you, ethics has nothing to do with personal relationships.

This is because, who really knows what ethical behavior is? I have friends who have sides of their personalities that I don’t like, but I keep them as friends anyway. Instead of telling them what jerks they are, I just look at their bright sides and smile when they say something stupid. Is this ethical or unethical? You decide.

Now, I’ve got all my friends figured out, so I know who to go to if I want something. This is essential knowledge to have in life. Why waste time asking the wrong person for something when the right person to ask is standing right there in front of you?

I think behavior such as this is ethical behavior in the sense that, why confuse or embarrass someone by asking for something I know won’t be given to me? This just puts him/her on the spot. This is unethical. I don’t want to embarrass anyone, plus I may even loose a valuable friend in this way.

This would make me feel bad, and would even make the other person feel bad. This is not appreciating your friends or treating them properly.

You see, the worst thing you can do is loose friends by asking them the wrong questions. After all, it’s difficult enough to find friends who have exactly the right abilities to satisfy your particular needs at any given moment, and to loose their friendship in such a clumsy manner…well, this only means you have to find some new friend to take their place who meets your requirements in the same way as the lost friend.. Oftentimes not an easy task.

I mean, what are friends for, anyway? If your friends can’t satisfy your particular needs on some particular occasion, is this really friendship?

Also, this guy who you think is your friend may be just pretending to be your friend for some reason, which is unethical behavior. You have to be always on the alert for these kinds of people.

Now, you may say I’m just using people, but I’m not. If you are diligent and selective enough, you will find people who actually enjoy satisfying your momentary needs. In this sense, I’m not using anyone; I’m fulfilling their empty, desperate lives.

I know these people’s lives are empty and desperate, because these people are glad and happy to see me when I visit them. I figure, knowing what kind of person I am, anyone who would be glad and happy to see me coming down their walk must lead empty and desperate lives.

The trick is, though, even if they’re not so glad and happy to see me (which happens, especially when I’ve visited them just yesterday), whatever their attitude or response is to seeing me when I visit them, I don’t care much. It really doesn’t matter, as usually they have some amount of tolerance for too-frequent visitors.

As I say, I rely on this tolerance, but I also know the limits to this kind of tolerance. This is another benefit to having your friends figured out.

For this very reason, it’s good idea to have Duplicate Friends. By Duplicate Friends I mean, having several friends with the same kinds of personalities. Having duplicate friends, I can spread this tolerance around a little. It’s the same as having one friend with several times the tolerance. Very convenient.

Well, I started out talking about God, now I’ll tell you why. Since God doesn’t like me much, I, of course, have been forced to invent these various devices to better my life, since I can’t rely on God to do all this for me. This why I spend so much time meticulously examining other people, whom incidentally I happen to label “friends”.

I’m all alone in this cold world, and without God’s help I have to do everything myself, like I said. This is unfair and cruel of God, but I don’t blame God very much for this callous attitude toward me. As I’m not much of a great person to begin with, God’s heartless attitude toward me is not hard to understand.

It’s probably best this way. Would I really want to be God’s friend? If there’s a possibility God is anything like me, I think I’d pass.


Another Boring Blog Entry

So I’ve been re-writing my fiction and putting them in my other two Blogs, for what they're worth. Nobody comments on Blogs here, not even me usually, though I do read them. Maybe not having comments is a good thing, as if someone did comment on my stuff, well…

I think Blogs are mostly read by Guests around here, which is great, and whoever reads my rubbish, I appreciate the views I get. See, Guests can’t comment. The other thing is, probably any Members who do read my junk probably come here as Anonymous Users. I don’t blame them for this, as I wouldn’t want to be recognized as reading the trash I write, either.

I always try to label my writings as “rubbish”, “junk”, “trash”, etc. I think this is a good idea. If a reader considers what I write as “garbage”, for instance, then I’m satisfied, as that’s what I’ve said it was all along.

Alternately, if someone thinks what I write is even slightly better than refuse, that’s a plus, a boost to my ego, and thereafter I may consider what I write ever so slightly worthwhile. See, I can’t loose either way. I like protecting myself in this manner. If one doesn’t expect anything, when nothing happens it's okay. Life goes on as usual.

I do like what I write, however, though I’m not a very good author, especially as an author of fiction. Actually, the word “author” doesn’t mean anything. It just means you wrote something. What you’ve written’s quality is not included in the definition of the word. This is why I consider myself an author. This way what I write doesn't have to include any quality to it, which I'm not able to add, anyway. So I think the term fits me very well.

All the above is very boring to read, I know. Blogs are all about the blog author and their opinions, after all, and who really cares about anyone else's opinions? Nobody, usually. Like, when you tell someone what your opinion is about some subject, you can easily tell the listener isn’t really listening. He/she has their own opinions and doesn’t give a hoot about yours. They’re just waiting for you to shut up so they can tell you their opinions.

I think this is a good idea, and I’m glad this is the situation. It would be too confusing if everyone else were able to sway your opinions over to theirs. That would make you think your own views were stupid, and why did you ever think that? It would be demoralizing, and you’d come to have a low opinion of your own opinions.

Besides, constantly changing your opinions depending on the particular person you’re talking to at any given moment…well, everyone would be fearful to speak to anyone. Everyone's personal views would be chameleons, and one’s precious identity would go out the window.

So I think we should hold our opinions, stupid as they may or may not be, to ourselves as tightly as we can and never change them. This way at least we know who we are. Even if who we are is just our opinion.

The philosopher Jiddu Krishnamurti said, “If you want to see Reality, loose your opinions”. This may be a bad idea, after all. I mean, who of us wants to see Reality? Nobody, usually.

That’s why we write Blogs.


My Little Kitten

To my dear little kitten who died this morning. I had every hope for her, as she ate yesterday evening, drank some milk and crawled up onto my lap to sleep for a while before I went to bed. She seemed to be getting better, but alas, she passed too soon into a better kitty-land where she is now healthy and happy, playing with her new friends and perhaps remembering me with some affection.

It comforts me some that one day her mama, who she loved as all children love their mothers, will join her, and they will be together again in joyful reunion, cherishing each other as they did in life, for I’m sure she must miss her mama where she is now, even though living in a kitten paradise.

I know it’s just a little life, but I’m sure life meant as much to her as it does to us. Small as she was, I know she loved me as I loved her, I could see it in her little eyes when she’d look up trustingly into mine. A tenderness of innocence that had no motive other than the pureness of love itself.

We had happy times together when she was feeling well. I took her outside twice to play in the warm grass, and I knew she was happy then, and brought her back into the house where she would lie next to the heater, which was her special place of comfort.

I look at her now lying there on the floor, still pretty in her kitten-ness, now at peace at last, with no more hurting or feeling sick, as I’m sure she felt in her short existence. She suffered a little, I think, in death, and I am sad I could not console her in that moment, nor ease her suffering in life.

Just a cat, I know, but still she deserved better, as she loved unconditionally and did no harm, which I think are the greatest virtues.


Delusions and The Next Thing

Delusions and the Next Thing

I said somewhere in the past that I think the less I write here the more popular my blog would be. The logic being, people would have less of my rubbish to read, so that would encourage them to come here more often. I think I've been proven right in this. I haven't written anything for a while, and my views have gone up, up and up.

This is rather satisfying for me. Not that my happiness depends on the number of views I get here, but that it shows I was right. I like being right probably more than anything else. When you're proven right, you can bask in this rightness, and all is well with the world. It's like the sun finally coming out on a cloudy day. This makes all the colors of the world bright and vibrant and crystal clear. The sky is blue, the trees are green and the colors of the flowers jump out at you. All of a sudden the world is a really nice place to live in.

The down side is, this pleasant feeling usually doesn't last very long. It only lasts until the Next Thing happens. It's kind of discouraging that the Next Thing always seems to ruin the previous nice feeling. It would be much better if the Next Thing would never happen.

Try as I may, I can never completely stop the Next Thing from happening. Even when I try really hard to ignore this Next Thing, it always kind of sneaks up on me, and before I know it, there it is right in front of my face, staring at me expectantly.

I hate it when I am expected to do something about these Next Things. I'd much rather be complacent in my previous nice place. Now I have to get up and deal with this Next Thing, which usually means I have to do something.

Doing something is sometimes nice, but oftentimes not so nice. In Zen, all activity is supposed to be nice. It's just what we do moment to moment. This attitude I can do sometimes, but other times it's a stretch of the imagination.

I live a lot in my imagination. I think that's why I like my fictional characters. I can put them in situations that I wish I could be in, and make them do things I wish I could do. But, in a way, I am doing these things and I am in these situations. I enjoy manipulating my fictional characters. It's not really manipulating, though. They seem to do what they do all by themselves without my help. It's like they have a life of their own, and I'm just watching their antics, and writing it all down.

This is why I've said they are real, living creatures out there in the Galaxy someplace, and at the same time are fictions of my imagination. I think they are both, somehow. If I could travel out into the Galaxy, I'm sure eventually I'd find these Alien life-forms for real, doing what they do in my stories. I'm really convinced of this.

I'm convinced my perhaps-delusion is real. This makes me happy. I also think this is an example of sanity, in a way. If one thinks one's delusions are real, one is living in one's real world. It may be a subjective real world, but real nonetheless. I think all psychological reality is subjective, anyway. So, why not enjoy your own personal reality as long as you can make it last?

If we were to be forced to accept the real reality of ourselves and our environment around us, I think then we would really go crazy. We'd all go insane, and not be sane as we usually are, all wrapped up in our pleasant delusions, which we believe to be reality.

Another thing is, I don't have to go to work every day. I'm lucky, I guess, in this. I used to have to go to work, but not anymore. This leaves me in a nice place. The next Thing that Happens doesn't happen for me very often now. It's pretty much the same thing over and over. This may sound boring, but it's kind of reassuring, because I usually know what's going to happen next, with no surprises in store for me in the next minute or something.

Mostly, if I had a choice, I'd choose the same thing instead of the Next Thing.

Life goes a lot smoother with no impending surprises on the horizon. It's a calm way to live, and I like to be calm. Panic just gets you in trouble. Even when the Next Thing does happen, being calm about it helps a lot. If you get really good at managing your delusions, you can even make the Next Thing seem like just another delusion. In that way it doesn't become too important to you. It's there, but it's not as real as it seems to be.

So, this is how I live my life. It may not be how others live their lives, but at least I stay satisfied in this kind of life. There's not much satisfaction out there, but I've grabbed my part and I hold on to it. If it's mostly a delusion, at least it's a delusion that I like, and I'm satisfied with it. It could be worse.


The Hardy-Ramanujan Taxicab Number

The British mathematician G.H. Hardy went to a hospital to visit the Indian mathematician Srinivasa Ramanujan: Hardy reported, “I had ridden in taxi cab number 1729, and remarked that the number seemed to me rather a dull one." "No," Ramanujan replied, "it is a very interesting number; it is the smallest number expressible as the sum of two cubes in two different ways."

Other properties of 1729:

1729 is also the third Carmichael number and the first absolute Euler pseudoprime. It is also a sphenic number.

1729 is a Zeisel number. It is a centered cube number, as well as a dodecagonal number, a 24-gonal and 84-gonal number.

Because in base 10 the number 1729 is divisible by the sum of its digits, it is a Harshad number. It also has this property in octal (1729 = 33018, 3 + 3 + 0 + 1 = 7) and hexadecimal (1729 = 6C116, 6 + C + 1 = 1910), but not in binary.

1729 has another mildly interesting property: the 1729th decimal place is the beginning of the first occurrence of all ten digits consecutively in the decimal representation of the transcendental number e

Masahiko Fujiwara showed that 1729 is one of four positive integers (with the others being 81, 1458, and the trivial case 1) which, when its digits are added together, produces a sum which, when multiplied by its reversal, yields the original number.


The television show Futurama contains several jokes about the Hardy–Ramanujan number:

The starship Nimbus displays the hull registry number BP-1729.

The episode The Farnsworth Parabox contains a montage sequence where the heroes visit several parallel universes in rapid succession, one of which is labeled "Universe 1729"

In one episode, the robot Bender receives a Christmas card from the machine that built him labeled "Son #1729".



The Hardy-Ramanujan number is the smallest product of three distinct primes of the form 6n + 1. [Pol]

The largest number which is divisible by its prime sum of digits (19) and reversal (91)

Ramanujan's famous taxi-cab number (1729 = 123 + 13 = 103 + 93). It is the smallest number expressible as the sum of two positive cubes in two different ways.

The smallest number that is a pseudoprime simultaneously to bases 2, 3 and 5. [Pomerance , Selfridge and Wagstaff]

If you reverse the middle digits of this pseudoprime you get 1279 and 21279 - 1 is a Mersenne prime. [Luhn]

Schiemann's first pair of isospectral lattices L+(1,7,13,19) and L-(1,7,13,19) are of determinant 1*7*13*19 = 1729. [Poo Sung]

The Hardy-Ramanujan number is equal to the average of the only known prime squares of the form n! + 1, i.e., 25, 121, and 5041. [Gudipati]



Interestingly, there are also amicable numbers, evil numbers, happy numbers, hungry numbers, narcisstic numbers, odious numbers, sociable numbers and vampire numbers, just to name a few.



Dreams and Proper Behavior

Dreams and Proper Behavior

Last night I had a dream of cats using unusual transportation devices. I can't quite remember what these devices were, though. Of course, we all know that in our waking reality cats generally use small bicycles to get around. That's not news or worth dreaming about. If I dreamed about cats bicycling down the sidewalk in front of my house, as they usually do, that dream would disappoint me. Who wants to dream about the ordinary? Nobody. Because ordinary is not interesting, especially in dreams.

So, tonight I hope I have another dream about something out of the ordinary and interesting. If I do, I hope I can remember it. It's frustrating having an interesting dream hovering dimly on the edge of awareness, just beyond the edge of recall. I think these kinds of dreams are like something balanced precariously above the edge of the event horizon of a black hole, just before they totter and disappear into the dreaded singularity forever.

I think in these cases of not-quite-grasp-able dreams, these dreams remain wispy and just out of reach on purpose. They teeter on the cusp of awareness, mocking us because dreams, having a life of their own, and therefore being basically spiteful (as all living things are), enjoy teasing and tormenting us in this way. I think dreams are alive entities that never really disappear forever, as we may think they do. When they are finished arrogantly parading themselves around before us in our sleeping unconsciousness, they seclude themselves somewhere in some obscure corner of our mind, and have a jolly good time gathered together, telling each other how they've made fools of us into believing they were real events in our sleep.

Now, I'm not sure which is worse, some other person (or mischievous dream) making a fool of me, or me making a fool of myself. I have a sort of mental Safety Valve, though, that I can use in these situations. For instance, when I seem to make a fool of myself in front of someone, I can always stand steadfastly, straight-faced and righteous, pretending the seemingly stupid thing I just did was not stupid at all, but was appropriate and proper behavior, and it is the people laughing at me who are the fools for not recognizing proper behavior when they see it.

It is my opinion that others generally don't recognize proper behavior when they do see it. Especially my proper behavior. This is hard for me to understand. I think others see each other as little copies of themselves, and when one of these other copies does something that does not match the image the original copy has of itself, it is taken aback or upset by this unexpected discrepancy.

It would be much better if other people just accepted other people's behavior and just went on with their own business. I have learned to accomplish this myself by mostly ignoring people other than myself. I think this is a good idea. This way, I'm not bothered or annoyed by what other people do or say. Usually I don't even notice when other people are around me, and in these circumstances I believe they don't notice me either. This attitude is sort of like having an Invisibility Cloak.

This ignoring thing is a great convenience when, for instance, I'm standing in line with some obnoxious person in a department store or something, or when someone is trying to argue with me. The arguer is not really arguing with me at all because in a sense I'm not really there. That other person is just shooting his mouth off at no one in particular. Now, this behavior a sign of mental illness. Arguing at someone who isn't actually there is a bad habit for someone to get into. These kinds of people should be locked up in some institution for their own good.

I would be in favor of locking people up in mental institutions who annoy me if this were possible. I think this is another good Idea I have. Of course, I would be safe from this fate because I never annoy anyone. As I say, my behavior is almost always proper (or I make it seem so), so it's always them who stray over the edge to impropriety, not me.

If on occasion I do wobble a bit, I can always use my Safety Valve. Or in extreme cases my Invisibility Cloak. This way, even though I may occasionally tip a little over the edge, my slightly inaccurate behavior appears to be correct, or I'm not really there to have behaved in a slightly inaccurate way at all.

As the appearance of correct behavior is more important than actual correct behavior, I feel secure using these tools. I am confident I can continue to sail easily and smoothly through the waters of the rest of my life, no matter how stormy others try to make my voyage.



This blog entry may seem somewhat disjointed, but I'm tired of trying to smooth it out as best I can, so I'll just leave it as it is. It's kind of long, too, but I think it's relevant in its own way, so I haven't cut anything out to make it shorter.


I think most people follow the Philosophy of Self-Importance (PSI). You may or may not have heard of this Philosophy, but you most likely have witnessed its results.

The major aspect of this Philosophy is that whatever someone is doing, just because that person is doing it, that doing is Important.

Conversely, whatever someone else is doing, just because that someone else is doing it, that doing is unimportant. These two concepts are among the many Precepts of PSI.

In this Philosophy, no one is allowed to care about anything or anyone beyond themselves. Not surprisingly, this is actually the First Precept of PSI. This primary Precept overrides all other Precepts, as it should.

This philosophy also rules out its followers having sense of humor. Especially a sense of humor about themselves. This is another Precept.

This brings up the concept of Authority. When I was unfortunate enough to be working for a large corporation, their Rules and Regulations held Infinite Authority. If I did something my own way, for example, instead of following the official blueprint or proper procedure, my boss would talk to me as if I had committed a ghastly, unspeakable crime against all morality and rational propriety. He was totally serious about my crime and his judgement of it, while I didn't really care about the subject at all.

This attitude of mine shocked him even more. How could I even hint that "He-As-Authority" was just an inconsequential bag of hot air, yammering on about something I had absolutely no interest in. I did not live up to his expectations as a suitably repentant miscreant. My laissez faire attitude was totally outside his experience as an Official Corporate Conformer.

When someone thinks he or she is Authority Itself, as my former boss did, or thinks he or she is even a representative of Authority Itself, this is obviously delusional behavior. This person needs to have his or her brain examined in some way, or at least volunteer for psychological evaluation. Of course, this never happens. It is against all the Precepts to question one's self or one's behavior.

I myself follow the Philosophy of The Independent Observer (PTIO). It's just the opposite of PSI in many ways. I consider what I do or say as not any more important than what anyone else does or says. Therefore, I don't recognize Authority or Self-Importance in others nor in myself. When people exhibit this Self-Important mental defect, I think it's funny, and I usually chuckle. I think it's funny and I chuckle because I believe they must be joking. I just can't take this pompous attitude of theirs seriously. They must be pretending to be taking themselves seriously, and must know it's all a sham. But if they are a true follower of PSI, of course, they are prohibited from realizing this. This act of mental gymnastics is achieved by utilizing an intricate feat of self-deception that all practitioners of PSI learn when first entering the Brotherhood.

Pride is another aspect of PSI. Especially pride in possessions. This usually comes out as: "Whatever You Have, Mine Is Better". PSI has many aspects to it, and many Precepts, all of which I won't go into here, as there are way too many of them to list.

When I'm with a group of people, I'm constantly amazed how this Philosophy makes them go through hoops. They're behavior is totally predictable. I usually just sit back and watch, amused. I don't say much in these situations. Firstly, because nobody is listening, and secondly, if I do say something, it's usually to try to prick a hole in their hot air PSI balloon.

This attempted pricking of mine usually results in two reactions. The person either relaxes a bit and admits somewhat to the foolishness in what they've just said or done, or the person is insulted. This is how I judge the extent that PSI has captured a person's soul. Sort of an Insult Index of Reactive Behavior.

There is a third reaction, though, of which I must mention. This of ignore-ance. The person in question either pretends not to have heard my critical comment, or more likely, the person really didn't hear it at all, because he or she wasn't listening in the first place. Not listening to other people when they are saying something is another Precept of PSI.

I've also discovered that the more glib someone is, the more that individual takes himself seriously. A really good talker somehow makes everyone else really good listeners, at least really good listeners in appearance. Usually listening in a position at the talker's feet. This psychological submissive position I never take. But, this act of submissive listening is really an illusion, because these ardent listeners are of course just pretending to listen.

This is the Second Precept of PSI. Practitioners pretending about other practitioners. That is, seeming to be interested out of politeness. This skill of pretending is taught diligently at PSI monthly meetings. It's a form of double-think. You're thinking one way, but acting in a different way. It's a learned skill, but it's not too difficult to learn. I think we are all born with this contrary ability. It just needs to be sharpened up a little.

So, in these situations of talkers and listeners, the talker is actually talking to no one, though he thinks everyone is listening. Not listening, the pretending listeners are incapable of taking what the talker is saying seriously. I think this is a Precept, too. Not to take what anyone else says seriously.

If a practitioner of PSI accidentally slips momentarily into attentiveness, he or she is trained to instantly realize this transgression, and will immediately admonish him- or herself for this temporary display of lack of mental discipline.

The talker may or may not realize the fact that he has no listeners, only pretenders. In the lower echelons of PSI, this is usually not realized by the talker. Only members at the very highest level in the official hierarchy of PSI are aware of this dichotomy. This is the closely-guarded Zero'th Precept, known to only the privileged few, and kept a very guarded secret.

Now, I will admit that what people say is sometimes slightly important...but in most cases not very important. I can state this with confidence because in my life I've listened to thousands of conversations, and I don't remember any of them. Even my own various contributions to social intercourse are lost to my memory. And, I'm sure, to everyone ease's memory who has ever heard them.

In this sense, I, too, am a practitioner of PSI.

As I've indicated, I am (mostly) not a member of PSI. I am a member of PTIO. Practicing this Philosophy, I enjoy standing around idly with my hands in my pockets most of the time, watching everyone around me being faithfully earnest in keeping the Precepts. I float freely, while these others seem to be wearing lead boots. This attitude of mine is a sort of anti-gravity device. While others are stuck to PSI and all it's manifestations by its unavoidable gravitational attraction, I hover about free of all these useless social complications.

It is said that being in love is like being young again. I think being free of PSI has this same effect. For instance, ten-year-old's aren't much interested in adult chitchat, and especially not in adult's solemn deliberations, psudo-seminars, street corner symposiums, somber conferences, steadfast conclusions and pompous formality. This is because children are innocent of these foolish social burdens. In their childish innocence they haven't yet learned about PSI. They don't go to meetings, for one thing. So they have not been indoctrinated in all of the many and cumbersome Precepts.

Unfortunately, we all know where this temporarily happy ten-year-old's ultimate fate lies. The unavoidable gravitational attraction of PSI will eventually prevail over them. Only the very few will discover their own personal anti-gravity device.


Complications, Entropy, Perspective, Nice Views, Ornaments and Reliefs

I was thinking of what kinds of pictures people have hanging on their walls, if any. I think most people have pretty pictures on their walls, and not much great art. Great art is too hard to look at, I think.

It's a lot easier on the eye to look at something simple, like a pretty picture. Some artistic masterpieces are too difficult to understand. If there's some Van Gogh or Picasso or something hanging on some wall, it will be mostly ignored. Some will actually purposely avoid looking at it, like it scares them or something. They will actually sit themselves in a chair that faces away from the painting. I think this is because it's too complicated for them, so it scares them.

I myself like simple things, but complications don't scare me. I try to avoid them as much as I can, of course, but when faced with some complication, I'll usually take a simple way of dealing with it. The simplest way of dealing with complications is to ignore them, of course. This approach usually works pretty well for me. Usually, complications untie themselves when left alone. It's like the sheer weight of their mass can't hold together and they fall to pieces by the unrelenting laws of physics.

Entropy is a law of physics that I like very much. Entropy decrees that everything eventually will fall to pieces all by themselves with no help from us. This is a very convenient law of nature. If it wasn't for entropy, everything would still be around. I mean, all the stuff from thousands and millions of years ago would still be in existence, scattered about everywhere. If that were so, there'd be hardly enough room for us to move around.

So, I think entropy is a good idea. Who ever thought of that law of physics and put it into operation deserves a pat on the back. Who needs a lot of useless old junk all over the place? Nobody.

Visual perspective is another good idea. Visual perspective means that things that are far away look smaller than things that are close by. This is more advantageous than you may think. If it wasn't for visual perspective, even really far away objects would look their actual size. We wouldn't be able to see anything if this were the case. Everything would all be piled up around us, actual size, and it would be too complicated. We couldn't look at a nice view, for instance. Everything in the nice view would be bunched up right here in front of our faces, and the nice view would be spoiled.

Now, nice views are important because they're calming. When I want to be calm I always go outside and find a nice view to look at. Sometimes, when I'm just standing somewhere for a long time looking, a neighbor will come by and ask me what I'm looking at. When I tell them I'm looking at a nice view, usually he'll screw his eyes up and try to look at what I've been looking at, but he hardly ever seems to see what I'm seeing.

On the other hand, maybe my nice view doesn't coincide with what my neighbor considers what a nice view is supposed to look like. This is very possible, as everyone is different, and everyone likes different things. I don't criticize people for liking different things than I do; I just think their likes are misguided. It's not their fault, either. They probably can't help liking stuff I don't like. It's sort of a disability with them. They're appreciatenly challenged.

Sometimes when I'm sitting with some neighbors in their yard, I'll start staring off in some direction and loose the thread of the conversation. I find myself doing this pretty often. I don't talk much, anyway. This doesn't seem to bother my gathering of neighbors. I think by now they don't expect me to say very much. I find this slightly odd, because even though I don't usually talk very often to them, they keep inviting me back to these little social gatherings.

I think they invite me back because I add some class to the group. Class and cool-ness. I'm sort of a celebrity to them in a way. These are ordinary people, but I'm not ordinary. I stand outside the social norm to them, and they seem to like to have this curious fellow among them. Like an ornament.

Now, I don't mind being an ornament. I've been an ornament all my life, it seems. It's kind of nice, in fact. This way I don't have to fit in anywhere. Most people naturally fit in, but not me. If I want to fit in somewhere I have to work at it, and it's usually not worth the effort. I prefer being the outsider. It's a lot more interesting, and it's easier, too. For one thing, this way I don't have to pay much attention to what's being said around me. This is a great relief in itself.

Reliefs are another thing I like. Every time I get a chance at a relief, I go for it. Like, when I've had enough, I take a relief. This is because enough is most times too much. I don't want enough, I just want some. Some is enough for me. When you have enough of something, it's like being dangerously close to the edge of a complication.

I like things to be simple, so some satisfies me. This is like visual perspective, in a way. When you have everything piled up right in front of you, you can't see the nice view. When you have enough of something, it just gets in the way.

You can always wait for entropy to take care of this problem, but entropy usually takes too long. Better to start with some, then you don't have to worry, and if things start getting complicated, you can always take a relief.


Fate and Uncertainty

Fate and Uncertainty

(This is a really long entry, and I apologize for this, but it's what I wrote and I can't help it. I'd like to write really short entries that pack a punch, but feel that would be short changing anyone who reads this stuff, in a way. I like short blog entries myself, and if I came across a really long one like this, in all honesty I'd just skip it. I'm too old so I don't have much time left anyway on stupid stuff. This paragraph is way too long in itself, by the way, so if you've read this far you get the idea of what you're in for if you keep on reading. C'est la vie is all I can say. That's French for "that's life" or "whatever" in English. This sort of leads me into the rest of what I have to say here.}

Here is an old story that you probably already know:

The great Sultan was standing on the edge of his pleasure gardens one evening when he heard a woman scream. Alarmed, he was about to hurry into the gardens to investigate, when his favorite wife ran up to him with terror in her eyes..

"What is wrong, my child!" the Sultan demanded.

"Sire," she said breathlessly, "as I was strolling in the gardens just now, I saw Death standing in the shadow of a great tree, and as I passed, He seemed to reach out as if to grab for me! I screamed in terror and ran to you!"

"Run to my stables and mount my swiftest horse," the Sultan advised, "and ride as fast as you can to Baghdad. You will be there by midnight, and there you will be safe."

The Sultan's wife did as he commanded. After she had gone, the Sultan became more and more angry with Death for frightening his favorite wife in this manner and strode into his garden, determined to admonish Death for His reckless act. Soon, he found Death standing in the shadow of the great tree as his wife had witnessed. Turning to Death the Sultan demanded, "How dare you reach out for my favorite wife and frighten her in my own pleasure gardens! Do you not know I am Sultan of all Arabia?! This is unforgivable!"

"Sire," Death replied meekly, "forgive me, but I did not mean to frighten her. I only raised my hands in surprise to see her here, for I am to take her in Baghdad at midnight."

So, this is all about Fate, I suppose. We are all Fated in a sense. What we do in our present effects our future, but not everything we do ourselves. Even when our future looks brightest, I think there is always an element of apprehension in this pleasant vision. There are always unpredictable elements lurking around. We cannot see these unpredictability’s, but they are there, invisible to us. What are these things?

I think there are animate entities whose essence is unpredictability itself. Sort of sentient Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principles. Here is an Uncertainty, continually changing form, until suddenly it solidifies and becomes existent in the present. Then we have to deal with it, like it or not. It's like an as not yet realized event hidden inside a vapor or a haze that suddenly reveals itself as a monster or as an angel.

These Uncertainty Entities are everywhere lurking about, as I have said, ready to pounce. Sometimes they're very helpful and we welcome them like a cute little furry animal who only wants to cuddle, and sometimes the cute little critter has gnarly teeth savagely trying to bite us. Thankfully, mostly these Uncertainties are rather benign creatures, and make little difference to our total Fate.

Now, one's Total Fate is interesting to think about. We may be able to quantify this into a Total Fate Index, like some sort of a graph, or even better a pie chart. Like this:

What you would include in a pie chart to represent your own Fate Index elements would be up to you, of course. But, remember; always leave space for the Uncertainties. Even if you are so bold or egotistical that you don't leave any room for the Uncertainties at all, believe me, they are certain to crop up somewhere and ruin your perfect little pie chart.

Even if you do nothing in your life, as most of us do, lock your doors, shutter your windows and stay under your bed with your favorite teddy bear, Uncertainties will always find their way in to your cozy little nest. No one can completely hide from them, as hard as we may try.

I think the best way to deal with these creatures is to crawl out from under our beds and face them with unwavering courage and bravery. These entities are bullies, mostly, and at their core they are insecure and frightened themselves, as all bullies are. They're all bluff, and when you stand fast with steely eyes, they usually cower in fear and run for the nearest hiding place of their own.

The only discernment one needs in these circumstances is to be able to recognize when an Uncertainty really means business. A few Uncertainties cannot be bluffed or scared away, or even fought off in hand to hand combat. The best way to deal with these kinds of Uncertainties is to run away. Ducking under a pile of something so it can't find you is a good idea. And believe me, these determined forms of Uncertainties will be diligently searching for you, and they don't give up easily. So the best thing to do is to remain perfectly still in your concealment and don't breathe too much.

An even better defense is not to taunt these formidable creatures in the first place. What I really mean is, don't be stupid. It's ok to be stupid in small ways, but being stupid in big ways is generally an easy path to willful self-destruction. Some may survive confrontations with these brutes, but most don't.

For those who don't, their pie charts at that moment are finalized for all eternity. All the rest of us can do is to stare at these finalized pie charts and nod wisely. A bunch of people gathered around a pie chart nodding wisely is a sad sight to see. So take notice.

The best thing is to make your own Fate Index pie chart with some insight and good judgment. And don't color in too much cleverness. Cleverness always gets you into trouble, and attracts more Uncertainties than you may have time to deal with, with any possibility of success, that is.

My advice is to leave a large space for innocence in your Fate Index pie chart. Not naive or gullible innocence, but child-like innocence. Child-like innocence repels unpleasant Uncertainties like nobody's business.

Also, leaving space for purposeless idleness is a good idea. Purposeless idleness wards off these unpredictable creatures just about one hundred percent. Plus, this gives you time to relax and regain your strength to face the Uncertainties that will inevitably crop up when you absolutely have to do something later.

What I really mean is, If you color in too much space for motives, you're just adding room for more Uncertainties, as Uncertainties just love hanging around motives. And we all know what that leads to.

In conclusion I'd just like to say I have my own Fate Index pie chart, but I won't show it to you. Not because it's embarrassing or anything, but because most of it is just one color. This is because, as I said way far above somewhere, I'm getting old and I'm no longer interested in doing a lot of stuff I was interested in doing when I was younger. My Uncertainty slice is pretty slim. At my age I like it that way.


Trying To Write Something Boring

Trying To Write Something Boring

I going to try and write something really boring in this entry. Or write about something boring. I'm not sure which.

I originally though about writing about how I don't like cheese. But now I've decided, after considerable thought, not to write about how I don't like cheese. That would be too interesting.

Then I thought about writing about standing somewhere and staring at concrete for an hour. That sounds boring, but after say thirty minutes it could actually become quite interesting. You look at the little bumps and ripples in the concrete and start imagining little vistas and cities, mountains and valleys, etc. Too interesting again.

Then I thought about writing about how when you're in bed about to go to sleep, what an annoying effort it is to open your eyes, if only for a moment. Say, to look at the clock or something. This is a painful effort, and an obscure enough subject to discourage someone from reading more about it. But, it could be kind of interesting, too, in its own way.

So now I'm thinking of something else that might be boring. Like sitting in the dentist's office waiting for your turn. That's boring, alright, but there's too many other emotions and thoughts that go through one's head in that situation. It's too complex to be truly boring, as well.

Then I thought, relating some personal experience would be good. There's nothing as mind numbing as listening or reading about some other person's personal experience. I mean, who cares? Nobody cares, except the person who lived through that experience. This is very boring, but not boring enough, either.

Then I thought, just typing:

klinkel klinkel klindel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel klinkel

and that would be good enough.

I figured, anyone would quit reading after about the seventh or eighth klinkel. Alternately, after reading, say, the eighth klinkel, the reader may look down the page, realize how many klinkels are left to read, and give up, and the extreme bleakness of reading every klinkel would thus be lost. If you can skip over something boring, it's not boring.

So, just listing klinkels wouldn't be boring enough, either.

Now, I've read, or tried to read, other people's blogs that I found really dull and tedious. So I'm thinking maybe I should just type some links to these other people's boring blogs. Then again, there is a chance that someone might possibly find some of these other blogs I've linked to interesting. For instance, some blog about a girl who gets excited about what kind of makeup she's wearing, or writing that she's done her hair recently in a different way. This could be fascinating to someone who owns a beauty parlor, for instance. So that idea is no good.

Of course, this whole entry about trying to find something really dreary and monotonous to write about may be boring in itself. I hope so. Perhaps no one has even made it this far down the page. They've given up reading maybe even before I typed all those klinkels.

In this case this entry would be a success in itself, or in spite of itself.

But, if anyone has read this stuff all the way through to here, I think I have failed in my intent. But still I think I have succeeded in the sense that the whole idea here is to be tiresome and dull, and for someone to have read all of this to this point, they may possibly be bored with it all, but have read it anyway simply because they haven't anything more interesting to do at this moment in their life. In this instance, I'm not sure if I've succeeded or not.

Lastly, maybe, if someone has read this far, they're a dreary person themself, and all this is their usual kind of reading matter. In this case it is impossible for me to write something boring for everyone, as someone will always consider even the most tedious stuff interesting.

So, I think you can't please everyone, and I've learned its best not to try. Especially when you're working hard not to please anybody. It's like the opposite of not being able to please everyone. If you do your best to discourage people from liking your blog entry, and you do a good job at it, hopefully you will displease most people, but, as I've said, not everyone. This is impossible. There will always be someone who will be pleased no matter how hard you try to put them off. This is a loophole that cannot be plugged. Someone will always squeeze through with a silly grin on their face.

Those who do squeeze through of course will be considered pathetic and valueless individuals by most, but not by me. Who am I to judge? After all, I'm the one who has allowed this loophole to exist in the first place. If someone wants to squeeze through, slap me on the back and thank me for writing something they really enjoyed reading, my response would be to accept their gratitude and grin back at them. I would do this because at that moment I would realize I'm most likely as pathetic and deluded as they are, since I'd written something they consider interesting.

In fact, I may actually admire this kind of dismal and clueless person. They'd probably be like people who actually enjoy watching game shows on television, for instance. You have to admire their stamina.

So now I think I I'll give up trying on this subject. Maybe in that is the success I've been trying to achieve after all. Giving up on something can mean it probably wasn't worth the effort in the first place. I think I've succeeded in this sense, anyway.


I Write Something Positive About People

I Write Something Positive About People

Since I've been kind of negative about we human beings lately, I thought I'd say something positive about us here. There are a lot of good things to say about people. I could say a lot of good things about myself, for example. I'm kind to animals, for one thing. I have some cats that I'm real nice to. I feed them and pet them, I take them to the vet when they're sick. I talk to them and even made a place where they can go outside and come back in again all by themselves whenever they want to.

My cats like me and I like them.

Another thing is, I'm polite to strangers. I always say hello and smile whenever I meet someone I don't know. As I said somewhere before, I like people I don't know usually better than I like people I do know. If I had my druthers, I'd surround myself with complete strangers all the time. That way we'd all have a nice time together, and I wouldn't have time for the people I do know. If someone I know pretty well came over to my house for a visit, they wouldn't be able to get in the front door for all the strangers milling around in my house.

My friends would probably wonder what's going on, and maybe even try to push their way into the house to find me. All the strangers they'd have to push out of the way would probably become annoyed at this person pushing them around. Since all these strangers and me get along so well, they may start pushing back at my friends, maybe even pushing back as far as out the door again.

This wouldn't bother me too much, as who needs friends when you're surrounded by strangers?

I'm just dreaming here, as this circumstance will probably never happen. After all, even strangers have their own lives to lead, and probably wouldn't have time to come over to my house anyway. It is a nice dream, though.

Another positive thing I can say about people is, they usually leave me alone. Very seldom does someone knock on my door. I appreciate that kind of behavior from people. Seldom knocking on my door is a virtue I admire. I think a lot of someone I hardly ever see. The more often I don't see one of my friends, the more I like him. I don't actually discourage anyone from visiting me, but I think they get the hint somehow.

I do like visiting other people, though. That way I'm free to leave whenever I want. When someone is in my house, it's usually hard to get rid of them. What I mean is, we usually have a nice time for a while, but inevitably at some moment time's up. My "time's up" moment seems to always not correlate with the other person's "time's up".

I get nervous when this happens. Especially when at that moment the person decides to make him- or herself even more comfortable than what he or she was already. They may settle down farther in a comfy chair and decide they're in for the long haul, and put a satisfied look on their face. They become really happy at being where they are and look around the room pleasantly.

When I see this happening, I usually go into the kitchen and make some coffee or something. Sometimes I ask them if they want a soda to drink. Guests are always expecting a free hand-out. Sometimes I feel like asking them if they'd like a chicken sandwich or a turkey dinner. They'd probably be happy to accept an offer like this, and not feel in the least they might be inconveniencing me in any way.

The only compensation I have in these circumstances is I know the person has to leave eventually. Even guests get tired of being someplace. They just don't get tired very quickly. It's a slow process. And when they do get tired, they're attitude is: "well, you've bored me long enough, I think I'll go somewhere else more interesting".

So, when they do leave, they leave sort of angry. Angry that I didn't entertain them enough while they were here so they could stay longer. At the door, they usually look around for the last time, like they're thinking what a cruddy house I have. While they were really comfortable my house looked great to them, but upon leaving kind of angry, they're wondering how I could possible live in a dump like this.

After they're gone, I feel kind of angry myself. Here I've done my best to be nice to someone, and somehow I feel sort of betrayed. The other thing is, I know this person will eventually come back for another visit. He or she's a friend, after all, and that's mostly what friends do. It's pleasant for me to think of the old adage: one cannot have too many friends.

Well, this is all the positive things I can think of about people for now. I'll try to think of some more examples later.


My Brain and Me

My Brain and Me

I do have a brain, but I’m not sure of what use it has been so far. I think it’s not been a very successful brain and I kind of feel sorry for it. It’s up here working away, but I’m somewhat disappointed at the results. It hasn’t made me rich, it hasn’t created anything exceptional, and it’s sometimes confused as to what action it should take next, and it hasn’t helped me much sorting out relationships with other brains.

It has its likes, but most of those that it enjoys are useless endeavors. It likes cats, it likes clouds, it likes absurdities, it likes car racing, it likes listening to music, it likes idleness, it likes daydreaming…umm…yeah…all the stuff it likes best doesn’t really do me much good in life. There are also a lot of things it doesn’t like. Mostly all the things it doesn’t like are the things that would make me a success in some occupation, for example.

The result is, I feel rather let down by my brain. I think it’s a little at times crazy, too. I think mainly it never grew up. By this I mean it was damaged when it was very young. It had a really traumatic experience when it was about six or seven years old. Actually, this distress was going on before that, building up to some climax. I’m not sure exactly when this event happened because it can’t remember it. All I know is, I can remember first and part of second grade in school, then there’s a blank.

See. sometime in second grade I had to take about a year off to recuperate. I think I was in some sort of hospital for a while, but I’m not sure. This used to be called a nervous breakdown in those days. I don’t know what it’s called now. My brother who was four years older than I had the same problem earlier.

Later, sometimes my mother would ask me, “Remember when you were sick?” I’d shake my head “No”, and she would have a very troubled expression on her face and it seemed to me a tear in her eye. Then the subject would be closed.

I never had the courage to ask my mother just what happened and what mental state I was in at the time. I actually know what the cause was, though. There was a tyrant in the family.

As a child I was always very afraid of my father. I didn’t want anything to do with him and always avoided his presence. This worked both ways, because he never wanted anything to do with me, either. In fact, as I was growing up, my father never spoke to me. I don’t think he ever said a complete sentence to me until I was well into my twenties.

I’m not sure why he had this attitude toward me. Maybe he didn’t like kids, maybe he didn’t think I was good enough as a son, maybe after my event he felt guilty. Then again maybe he was blameless, and it was I who couldn’t cope.

In any event I wasn’t too unhappy about all this, except when I observed my friend’s fathers interacting with them. I do remember as a child crying sometimes, saying to myself, “My daddy doesn’t love me.” That did hurt, especially because I knew it was true.

So, I think this experience damaged my brain. Although I’m a little miffed at its incompetence, I also feel a little sorry for it. It’s had to go through this unfortunate experience and somehow manage to survive it somehow.

All in all, I think it did a pretty good job, because I’m not seriously crazy. Maybe I should thank it for that. I think I’m sort of schizophrenic-like sometimes, though, in that at times I have to fight off self-damaging thoughts. I’m also slightly sociopathic. I was very shy as a child, I hardly ever spoke and don’t remember having any friends until I was maybe twelve years old. I likely transferred my fear of my father to fear of all people. Strangers always were slightly “the enemy” to me.

A Monty Python character use to say, “My brain hurts!” I know how he felt. My brain has physically hurt on occasion in the past, as if being in dire conflict with itself. Now I don’t pay too much attention to my brain’s problems. I think soothing thoughts to it and try to relax it when it starts to reflect on its own various shortcomings and injuries.

I want to make my brain my friend. It’s not always willing to comply, but perhaps if I show enough kindness and understanding to it, one day my brain and I may learn to live in harmony together, and at last both know some peace and serenity.


My Commentary Blog

Well, I’m changing my blog system. Instead of one blog with everything helter-skelter piled up everywhere in it, I will now have three blogs. One for stories, one for Zarkor and Zerak stories and one for general commentary. (My old blog will disappear.)

This general commentary blog will eventually be full of stuff – as will the others - mostly useless rubbish I admit – but that’s mostly what I have to offer.

I only have one entry here so far, I’m still going over the others, but they’ll be in here soon. So if you read this first entry you’ll know what to expect in all the others, and most probably will never come back. I understand this, as I can’t blame you for having good taste.

Three Kinds of Friends and Film Noir

I always assume that people who read my stuff have the same knowledge and experience that I have. This sort of delusion of mine I like, because this way I can assume everyone will agree with me, whatever I say, and laugh at all my jokes, as I do. I like people who always agree with me, of course. I think I choose my friends with this criteria in mind. I think we all probably do this. Who wants to be around someone who always tells you you're wrong?

The second kind of people I like are those who may think I'm wrong, but are too polite to say so. I can tell who these kinds of friends are because they smile a lot and nod after I say something. They're amused that I would say such a thing. They don’t actually think what I said was funny, they just think it’s funny that I would say it. Sometimes I interpret this reaction as, “these people are thinking what I say really is funny”. I humor myself like this often.

These kinds of people who only humor me I like more than the ones who always agree with me. People who agree with me all the time are usually too serious about what I say. They nod sagely in solemn accord. This is nice, but it's not much fun.

Then there are the kinds of friends who think what I say actually is funny, whether they agree with me or not. These are the most fun kinds of friends to have around. If you've read any of my previous blog entries, you've probably figured out that I don't have many friends like these.

Some of you may even be thinking I have no friends at all. I actually do have friends. Not many, but some friends. I remember someone saying, "I never had a friend I really liked." I'm not sure anyone really has to like their friends. Friends are just nice to have around in the right circumstances. Usually, circumstances that benefit you. I think this attitude is quite common. There's nothing more annoying than when friends drop by when you really don't need them.

This subject logically leads me to Film Noir movies. In Film Noir movies nobody has friends. Everybody is just looking out for themselves. I think Film Noir movies are a pretty accurate depiction of real everyday life.

I like Film Noir movies because they're gritty and always in black and white. Black and white makes even the grit look even more gritty. In these kinds of movies all the characters are tough and dangerous. Even the women. Especially the women. Women are usually called “dames” in Film Noir movies. You always know some dame is going to get some guy in trouble. As you know, this usually happens in real life, too. Like I said, these movies are an accurate depiction of everyday life.

I also like the dialogue in these movies. I wish I could write this kind of dialogue in my stories. Like, after this guy and this dame knock off the dame's husband, the guy is walking along at night thinking, "That was all that was to it. Nothing had slipped, nothing had been overlooked. There was nothing to give us away. And yet, as I was walking down the street to the drug store, suddenly it came to me that everything would go wrong. It sounds crazy but it's true. I couldn't hear my own footsteps. It was the walk of a dead man." Pretty good, hun?

Or, "She started crying softly like the rain on the window". These lines were written by Raymond Chandler for the movie, ‘Double Indemnity’.

I wrote a story about my fictional character Zarkor trying to re-make ‘The Maltese Falcon’ movie. Poor Zarkor keeps getting confused about the scenes in the movie and forgetting stuff. I think it's pretty funny. It's called, ‘The Object’. It's called that because Zarkor doesn't understand Earth animals, so he doesn't know what a falcon is. Or, he's probably forgotten what it was in the first place.

Everyone gets confused sometimes. I usually only get confused when someone is trying to tell me about something. I also usually confuse others when I'm trying to tell them about something. I guess that's what friends are for. No matter how confused we or our friends get, we still remain friends. Maybe it's better that way, to mostly remain confused I mean. That way nobody really knows the truth. Like I always say, “never let the truth come between two friends”.

This entry seems kind of short to me, so I'll pad it out with some other useless information. I could tell you about my dreams, but dreams are dull reading for everyone except the dreamer. I think blog entries should include something anyone could be interested in, not just the blog writer. For you who also write blogs, it's important to do this, or at least to pretend to do this.

Sex is a good subject to write about that usually interest’s people. Around here the spiritual realm or UFO's or conspiracy theories are very popular. I don't write about any of that stuff because I don't know anything about those subjects, except sex. I know a little about sex, but not very much.

If I did write about those subjects I'd be a lot more popular here. Especially if I wrote about sex. I don't do this because it's an easy way to gain popularity. Plus, I'd have to edit out all the most interesting stuff. In old movies when it looks like the hero and some dame are getting ready to do it, the film fades to black, and when it comes back, something completely different is going on.

I like this idea. It leaves everything to the imagination, and the romantic interlude has nothing to do with the plot of the movie anyway. My guess is, the director includes these fading-out scenes to show that the characters are real human beings, just like us. Or just like we'd like to be.

Of course, in movies, something special is always happening. In real life, practically nothing special ever happens. I like it most when nothing special is happening in my life. Every once in a while something special is okay, but not too often. This way I'm forced to appreciate nothing special, and to appreciate more the special parts when they do happen.

Everything is special, by the way, even when nothing is happening. This attitude is called enlightenment by some. This viewpoint or understanding is special in itself. When nothing is going on, the enlightened person is still satisfied, which is a good way to live, I think.

Well, I've padded this entry enough for now. A good writer knows when he's put in enough extra sentences to make his novel long enough to please his editor. I'm not a good writer, but I know when to stop, well sometimes. Stopping is like saying "no" to people. Just saying “no” always keeps you from getting into a lot of useless trouble.

If you take anything away from all of this mess, take that. It will do you some good.

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