In Summary: * Have moved into the night meds and night prayers phase of my evening while listening to the Notre Dame Radio Network ahead of tonight's game between the Fightin' Irish and the Miami Hurricanes. Opening Kickoff is less than 30 minutes away, and I fully expect to listen to the whole game before heading to bed.

Today has been a Saturday that has felt like a Sunday to me almost all day long. I don't know why.

By the time the game ends I'll have finished taking all my night meds and will be ready to finish the night prayers. Then I'll be ready to slide into bed.

Prayers, etc.: * I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night.

Health Metrics: * bw= 219.58 lbs. * bp= 151/67 (63)

Exercise: * morning stretches, balance exercises, kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, toe raises, wall push-ups, BP breathing exercises, pilates

Diet: * 05:20 – 1 banana, 4 little cookies * 06:45 – 1 ham & cheese sandwich * 07:45 – snacking on chocolate covered raisins * 11:45 – big buffet meal at Golden Corral * 15:15 – snacking on chocolate covered raisins

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 04:00 – wake * 05:00 – bank accounts activity monitored * 05:30 – read, write, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials, take daily meds, unpack, organize, and nap * 11:45 – brunch with Sylvia at Golden Corral * 13:00 – tuned into Texas A&M Sports Network ahead of this afternoon's A&M Aggies vs the S. Carolina Gamecocks * 17:30 – tuned into the Notre Dame Radio Network ahead of tonight's game between the Fightin' Irish and the Miami Hurricanes

Chess: * 13:30 – moved in all pending CC games, winning one by checkmate

Someone had stuck a sticker On the back of a toilet door.

“Pray to God” It said in big letters.

Someone else had crossed out the word “Pray” with a black pen.

Then above it they wrote the word “listen”.

Then they’d crossed out the word God

Above it they wrote the word “Love”.

“Listen to Love”

The toilet door said as I sat down to take a big shit

□

...

When the emptiness fills you.

□

Kyoto, Japan. ​The city is a postcard, but today it just feels like glass. ​I got the dream. Three months, an impossible language, temples and rainy streets. Exactly what I swore I wanted. And yet, sitting right here in the middle of it, the chest feels tight and the weight is too real. ​I don't want to be here today. ​Maybe next week the magic will break back through, maybe the ramen will taste better or the streets will feel less wide. But today? Today just sucks. ​And that's allowed. Even in paradise, you're allowed to want to pull the covers over your head and just... pause.

Meeting: Remere & Alexis

And so the hunter became the hunted.

He’d been scouting for the entire afternoon, but to no avail. Alexis’ boots now drag wearily against the grass as he makes his way from the bridge, scythe rested lazily over a shoulder like it’s entirely weightless despite its tremendous size.

There’s a sudden rustle of leaves nearby—not his own footsteps—but that’s not what snaps him fully alert. It’s the restless stomp of a nearby pegasus that gives him pause; the creature lifts its head from where it grazes and exhales a nervous breath.

Alexis moves before he even sees the person in the ruins nearby, weapon drawn as he sprints forward. With a flurry of dexterous movements, he poises himself behind the unfamiliar person, facing their back, the blade of his scythe poised just shy of their throat. The implication is obvious—a single sharp pull of the weapon would leave Remere lacking a head.

“I don’t suggest moving,” Alexis says dryly. “But I do suggest telling me who you are, and what you’re doing wandering out here this late.”

Remere had been doing what they often did late in the evenings: searching for suitable quarry. Subtlety did not matter at this hour, having grown accustomed to blending in with the creatures who preyed upon the naiveté of others. Provided they had iron on their person, and did not step into a fairy ring in error, Remere was as much a danger as the natural inhabitants of this realm.

Or, they would be. If they didn’t have a blade to their neck.

They remain still, the bump on their throat that protrudes from their collar pushes against the blade as they swallow in disinterest. When their lips part the thing that escapes them is not a plea for their life, but a melodic laugh. It cuts through the stranger's threat like mockery, smooth and alluring all the same.

“That’s no way to greet someone here. Has no one taught you manners?” They remain still, and continue to speak.

“Remere, Witch and Scholar. I study the things that go bump in the night. Would you be a doll and lower that, for me? My back will start to ache if I stand like this for too long.” They lick their lips, a glimmer of gold shining beneath in the dim evening light.

A smirk twitches the corner of Alexis’ mouth, but with their back to him, Remere would not see it. He relents much too easily; with a short breath of laughter, he takes a half step forward to create distance between blade and throat, and then draws the weapon away with a showy, graceful twirl of motion.

“You’re right: wherever are my manners?” he answers in kind, but it's unclear if the mockery is playful or cautious on his part; it seems practiced all the same. Alexis finally strolls forward, brushing nonchalantly past Remere to move to stand in front of him.

As he looks the curious individual over one or two times, he processes the greeting offered to him. “Remere,” he repeats softly, restlessly tapping gloved fingers against the haft of his scythe. “Oh! You mean... the famed vampire researcher I’ve heard mention of?” Alexis sounds doubtful, a brow raised, like he had expected something entirely different of Remere.

The short laugh does something to Remere, softens them too easily. They roll their shoulders in place of audibly sighing in relief, brushing a stray hair from their face—as though the action made a difference. They bend down, then, and retrieve a single rose from where it had fallen during their scuffle, holding it close. They have no regard for thorns or otherwise, or that the petals seem trapped in a flawless state of existence.

Sorcery, no doubt.

“I wouldn’t say I have a reputation, but your recognition flatters me. Yes. Vampire researcher.” Their eyes drift lower, towards the rosary upon Alexis’ chest. Their lips curl upward, in softness.

“You arm yourself with trinkets worn without faith, and a blade that you lift with too much ease. Tell me your name, fair hunter.” A pause. “Do not worry. I am not one of the creatures here who will take it from you. I’m asking as a courtesy.”

Alexis leans too comfortably against his weapon, making it plainly obvious that he’s disgustingly easy to sway with flattery and a sweet voice. He’d certainly never been accused of a sharp wit or a strong will.

Rather than question Remere’s perception, blue eyes drop to his own conveniently-exposed chest and settle upon the rosary in question. Gloved fingers lazily lift it to examine passively as he speaks. “Mm, I suppose you must be as wise as I’ve heard people say.” He does not precisely confirm if Rem speaks true of his lack of faith. “The fairest hunter, actually,” he then answers with a wink. “Alexis Ashford. I've been recently traveling these parts following claims of a vampire stirring trouble nearby—not that I’ve found much luck.”

He pauses and a faint smile softens his features. “Until now, I suppose.”

Remere watches in fascination as the rosary is lifted between Alexis’ gloved fingers, head tilted. Curiosity gets the better of them, and they reach towards it in interest. They feel no discomfort as their fingers inch closer, and closer still. Before their gloved fingers can touch it, they halt and withdraw their hand, fingers curling inwards and arm hovering towards their own chest.

Best not to touch the hunter with a weapon, they must have decided.

“Ashford.” They repeat, and their lips flatten into a straight line as they digest the implications of the name. “I have heard of the family’s accomplishments, and I have heard of their young prodigy hunter with a more... altruistic disposition. That must be you.”

They extend their hand again, this time to shake. “A pleasure, fairest Alexis.” It comes out with more familiarity than it ought to, characteristic of a Witch. “I shall endeavor to help you find this trouble.”

Alexis stills very visibly at Rem’s description of him, barely shielding against the impulse to flinch reflexively—not because he is unaccustomed to the biting criticism of his various unconventional virtues, by any means. He’s heard it all, for better or worse, and likewise sees less and less of his father as a consequence of his practices.

What shocks him is Rem’s complete lack of judgment.

His surprise is short-lived, hopefully short enough that his momentary falter in expression escapes Remere’s notice. He promptly but delicately accepts Rem’s handshake, and yes—he goes there, in fact. Remere’s hand is raised as he elegantly bows forward to press a light kiss to knuckles, and then their hand is carefully released.

“A pleasure as well,” he purrs, poising himself upright. “And your aid is most welcome, Remere. I will gladly do whatever I can for you in turn.”

Remere loses composure for the first time during their meeting, the scandal of having a hunter’s lips upon their unholy hand nearly enough to send them into a frenzy. It masks the giddiness threatening to betray its murmuring heart as best they can, the hitch of breath swiftly followed by a small cough as their hand is subsequently released.

“Yes. Of course.” They take a moment to consider their next words. Traditional expressions of gratitude were a danger in these lands. Many things were, themselves included.

“I will offer you information. Our quarry seems to feed primarily on cattle, wildlife, and the occasional... unfortunate. Said unfortunates tend to be ne’er-do-wells, no-goodniks, or otherwise unsavory folk. Nonetheless, people do not take kindly to other people going missing, regardless of their character.”

Remere allows Alexis to draw their own conclusions. It is likely they already have this information, but offering it voluntarily at least allowed them to test the waters of what this altruistic hunter deemed acceptable.

For Alexis, the charming display is as mundane as anything else in his day. It’s practiced and necessary for a favorable relationship of any kind, and Rem had criticized his lack of manners besides—fairly so, of course, considering the blade that had been aimed at his throat. Alexis did not blame him, by any means, but he also had pride and a point to prove.

When he leans against his scythe once more, he looks meaningfully contemplative. “Interesting,” he says softly, tapping the side of a curled finger to his chin in thought. “I was aware of the drastic increase in the deaths of local fauna—bodies drained partly or completely of blood, all the rather obvious signs.” He peeks up at Rem and pauses his tapping in favor of lightly gesturing toward Rem—not in accusation, but in speculation.

“But the particulars of the backgrounds of any human victims—that, I had not known.” He huffs a small laugh. “I... admittedly have yet to do all my research. I wanted to immediately venture to the last known area a body had been sighted, on the small chance I could catch them in the act.”

He shrugs a shoulder and exhales a brief sigh, looking almost shy when he speaks again. “I suppose gathering information first would be more beneficial to me…”

Whatever lack of manners that was perceived by a blade or otherwise had apparently been replaced by goodwill, or as close to goodwill one might receive from a vampire scholar—definitely not a vampire scholar who was seeking a potential meal, companionship, or a way to occupy their time in what was otherwise a meaningless existence.

When they speak again, there is something distant in their voice.

“It helps to understand them. How they think. How they feel. To see through their eyes... taste with their tongue.” The latter remark has a bitterness to it, a distaste. “I’ve taken samples from cattle, spoken to slaughterers, processors... the proprietors of businesses where targets were last sighted. I keep records, and I can give you access to my residence in these parts, should you need it. Conjure temporary lodging.”

It sounds more like a statement than an offer.

“I have a study that can be accessed from the premises. You may come and go as you see fit. Does this sound acceptable to you?”

“Moving me in on the first date?”

It’s spoken with no hesitation, not a beat missed following Rem’s very accommodating and trusting offer. Alexis punctuates his teasing question with a smirk. There is no other remark made about Rem’s description of their own investigative efforts, which must imply that Alexis believes Remere completely.

“I’d consider ‘acceptable’ to be an understatement,” he then answers plainly. “That’s quite generous, in fact. I ought to strive to match your kindness.” For the first time in their conversation, there is something authentic about the gentleness of his tone and the soft way he smiles. “My travels lead me to various rare magical artifacts and materials. I can bring you anything of interest I find, or I can keep an eye out for something specific.”

A small pause follows, but he doesn’t allow Remere to answer. He smiles and speaks promptly. “Actually, I accept no opposition to this arrangement. It’s a deal.” He casually lifts his scythe then, only to rest it lazily over his shoulder. Blue eyes glance up toward the sky quickly to assess the time. “Speaking of lodging, I ought to get myself somewhere to rest.” His eyes fall on Remere again. “I’m grateful we had such an auspicious chance encounter. I do hope I was able to make up for my rather lacking first impression.”

There is no goodbye to follow. Alexis simply winks at Remere once again before calmly walking past him, toward the bridge from where he originally wandered, to take his leave.

---

The above was conjured in the Realm of Awenia, owned by the lovely Gwen Enchanted. Thanks for letting us play vampire barbie in your home!

Three Twisted Knots • Gwen's Primfeed

There was a little girl stuck somewhere within.

Whenever I tried to be a man.

She’d make such a din.

I locked her in cupboard.

Where she couldn't be seen.

Til I fell asleep.

Then in whispers her song, she'd sing.

Come to me my love, my

heroin.

□

The Medicine

Within

□

Of all the currencies...

Giving

The more you give

The richer you become

The desert in storm grows green

Abundant

Rulers. Redundant.

□

I'm planning to follow two games this College Football Saturday.

First on my list finds the (4-4) Texas A&M Aggies traveling to play the (5-3) South Carolina Gamecocks. This game is scheduled to start at 2:00 PM CT.

Then later I'll have the (7-1) Notre Dame Fightin' Irish hosting the (8-0) Miami Hurricanes. This game is scheduled to start at 6:30 PM CT.

And the adventure continues.

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“Montana Travel, Green Glacial Valley” by moonjazz is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.

Nov. 7, 2026

Wait a difference a day made... One of the great jazz standards says it all. I went into yesterday still dealing with my fears and anxieties about owning a home with my partner, but by the end, I felt inspired and invigorated to walk this path together with her into the unknown.

Moving past all of these difficult feelings began with the phone conversation with my parents, in which they lovingly told me that they wanted to give us this money. That they saw how far I'd come in recovery and this gift was a part of their way of saying, we see your growth, and we want to support you. There are no words to express my gratitude for their generosity.

But then, when our lawyer reached out to set up the closing date, I called my partner, and we both had the jitters at first. Then M, my partner, said, “It feels like we're holding hands about to jump off a cliff together.” That image gave me a feeling of confidence and excitement that I hadn't felt before in regards to the house. There's no one I would rather jump off a cliff with than M. She is such a good partner and friend, and the fact that that image made me feel better about things rather than more fearful I think is a pretty good indication that we're ready to take the plunge.

Wish us luck!

PS Another thought I had was that Higher Power, Benevolent Spirits, Ancestors, Animals, and the land are all here to help us, guide us, and protect us. How lucky are we?! Amen!

Je garde en mémoire sa foi pour Dieu, Ces moments où elle m’apprenait à lire avec Ratus, Sa volonté de me protéger, toujours, Ses saucisses fumées au-dessus des cendres du feu de la vieille cuisine en bois, Sa vie, difficile, Sa générosité, toujours. Sa simplicité.

Au revoir mamie

Tomorrow A Is coming over to bake stuff with me for the baking club, but also for my birthday. I was honestly taking it back by how thoughtful and sweet it was of her to offer, and how serious she was about it. I remember when he first talked, we kind of stopped after it faded out a little bit, but I remember telling myself that one of the reasons why I wasn’t interested is because I didn’t think she would really care about me, but I think seeing that she can and does reignited a lot of the feelings that I had. I’ve been thinking about how much I’ve been thinking about how to kind of indicate that I’m interested in her like this so that I can eventually ask her on a date because we already have pretty good chemistry. And I’m thinking about how I worry that sometimes things are like manipulation if I behave in a certain way to try to get some desired result. But at the same time, this feels like saying, if I am nice to someone before I ask them on a date, that is manipulative when I think that is just normal human nature. I do find myself sometimes getting a little bit I guess like two looped up in it, where I find myself wanting her to respond or almost expecting certain things in my head, and I have to catch myself and remind myself that I am going to be completely OK if she is not interested. And I use that as a mantra.

The Promise of Someday

Someday.

It's such a hopeful word.

It carries the promise of better circumstances, brighter mornings, and a life beyond whatever difficulties we are presently enduring.

Someday, things will be different.

Someday, I'll have enough money.

Someday, my health will improve.

Someday, I'll take that vacation.

Someday, I'll finally begin to live the life I deserve.

For much of my life, I believed in that promise.

I didn't realize how much of my life I was surrendering to it.

Today, I found myself reflecting on the years I spent struggling with a chronic skin condition.

Eczema.

To someone who has never experienced it, the word might sound relatively harmless. A little dry skin. Some itching. An occasional rash.

But for many years it was anything but harmless.

There was the physical discomfort, the relentless itching and scratching, the inflammation, the breakouts across my entire body and face.

And then there was everything people couldn't see.

The embarrassment.

The self-consciousness.

The reluctance to be seen.

For years, it grew progressively worse, and there were times when I wore long sleeves, no matter how hot it was, because I was so concerned about how other people might perceive me.

It is a very particular kind of pain to look in a mirror and not see yourself, but only your flaws.

Financial insecurity only compounded those feelings.

There were years when it was so bad that it was hard to hold on to a job because I called off too much. I ended up taking jobs as a temp.

I wanted a better job. I wanted to earn money to provide for my family. I wanted to travel, experience new places, and enjoy things that seemed so ordinary for other people.

But I kept postponing them.

When my skin gets better, I'll find a better job.

When I make more money, I'll start enjoying myself.

When I'm finally comfortable in my own body, I'll go out and experience the world.

I was always waiting for something.

And somewhere along the way, waiting became a way of life.

Over the years, I missed birthdays, weddings, and even funerals.

Some of those absences were unavoidable. My condition genuinely limited what I could do. But there were other times when the fear of being seen kept me from experiences I might otherwise have enjoyed.

I wasn't simply hoping for a better tomorrow.

I was withholding myself from today.

What I didn't fully recognize at the time was that I wasn't suffering alone. My family endured the years of hardship, mood swings, and depression too.

I was with my wife for twenty-five years. We got divorced last year.

Over the years, when I would talk to her about my condition, she would always tell me, “I don't see your illness. I just see you.”

She always saw my worth, even when I could not.

I wonder how many moments I missed because I couldn't see myself the way the people who loved me saw me.

How many invitations I declined.

How many experiences I postponed.

How many ordinary, beautiful moments passed while I was preoccupied with everything I believed was wrong with my life.

The suffering was real.

But so was the love.

So was the laughter.

So were the people who wanted my company.

So were the mornings I woke up, the conversations I had, the opportunities to show kindness, and the countless small experiences that make up a human life.

I had allowed one part of my existence to overshadow nearly everything else.

And today, something occurred to me.

Even in suffering, there is life.

I don't believe we have to celebrate suffering.

I don't believe pain is inherently noble, or that every hardship arrives carrying some hidden lesson.

Sometimes pain is simply pain.

Sometimes suffering is senseless.

Sometimes the things we endure leave wounds that never completely heal.

And there is nothing wrong with wanting relief.

But suffering is not an interruption of life.

It is part of life.

We enter this world vulnerable. We experience disappointment, illness, rejection, grief, uncertainty, and loss.

We love people we cannot keep forever.

We build things that may not last.

We make plans that circumstances overturn.

No amount of preparation, wealth, wisdom, or faith can guarantee a life untouched by suffering.

And yet, we so often behave as though living must be postponed until suffering has passed.

As though joy and pain cannot occupy the same room.

As though gratitude is somehow dishonest when something hurts.

But life has never been that simple.

A person can grieve and still laugh.

A person can be afraid and still experience wonder.

A person can struggle financially and still know generosity.

A person can live with illness and still experience love.

Joy does not invalidate suffering.

And suffering does not invalidate joy.

They coexist because both belong to the human experience.

I have experienced bitterness in my life.

There have been times when I looked at my circumstances and wondered why life had unfolded the way it did.

But I have never wanted bitterness to become my permanent residence.

One of the ways I've resisted it has been to look beyond myself, acknowledging that there are many in this world who are far worse off than me.

Not because someone else's suffering makes mine insignificant.

Pain is not a competition.

And recognizing another person's hardship doesn't magically erase our own.

But looking beyond ourselves reminds us that our experience, however consuming it may feel, is not the entirety of existence.

There are other lives.

Other struggles.

Other stories.

There is still kindness in the world.

Still beauty.

Still generosity.

Still something worth appreciating.

Sometimes the balance we seek begins with allowing ourselves to notice what remains good.

Not pretending the bad isn't there.

Not forcing gratitude where grief needs to be acknowledged.

But refusing to let what hurts become the only thing we can see.

We cannot control everything that happens to us.

We cannot prevent every disappointment, reverse every loss, or guarantee that tomorrow will be easier than today.

And sometimes suffering genuinely narrows our possibilities. Illness, exhaustion, poverty, and grief can place real limitations on what we are able to do.

But there is a difference between recognizing those limitations and allowing them to convince us that nothing meaningful remains possible.

Within whatever freedom remains, we can try to direct our attention toward more than our suffering.

We can nurture relationships.

We can offer kindness.

We can allow ourselves moments of pleasure without feeling that we must first earn them through the resolution of every problem.

We can make room for living, even when life is difficult.

Perhaps that is where balance begins.

Not in eliminating suffering.

But in refusing to surrender everything else to it.

There is something particularly striking about arriving at this realization now.

My circumstances have changed.

I have experienced things I once thought might remain beyond my reach.

I recently became a homeowner.

I'm beginning to imagine new possibilities.

There are places I want to visit.

Things I want to experience.

Ways I hope to be of service to others.

In many respects, some of the tomorrows I once dreamed about have finally arrived.

And yet, the most important thing I'm discovering is not that I can finally begin living.

It's that I was alive all along.

Even during the years I would rather forget.

Even when I was uncomfortable in my own skin.

Even when money was scarce.

Even when grief visited my doorstep.

Even when the future seemed uncertain.

There was life.

Imperfect.

Uncomfortable.

Sometimes unbearably difficult.

But life nonetheless.

And I cannot help wondering how much more of it I might have experienced if I had understood that sooner.

I don't ask that question to punish myself for what I didn't know.

I ask it because I still have time to live differently.

And perhaps someone reading these words does too.

There is nothing wrong with looking forward to better days.

Hope is a beautiful thing.

It helps us endure.

It gives us something to work toward when our present circumstances are difficult.

But hope becomes something else when we allow it to convince us that today has nothing to offer.

When we begin attaching conditions to our own participation in life.

When we tell ourselves that happiness must wait until we are healthier, wealthier, thinner, more successful, more secure, or somehow more worthy.

When we spend so much time preparing to live that we forget we already are.

Because someday is not a destination.

It is not a guarantee.

And it is certainly not a promise that the difficulties of being human will one day disappear.

Even when the things we have waited for finally arrive, life will still contain uncertainty.

There will still be disappointments.

Still losses.

Still circumstances we cannot control.

If we insist upon a life without suffering before we permit ourselves to live, we may spend our entire existence waiting for something that was never possible.

And that, perhaps, is the cruelest part of the promise.

Not that tomorrow might fail to be better.

But that our faith in tomorrow might blind us to today.

So make your plans.

Pursue better circumstances.

Seek healing.

Work toward financial stability.

Dream of places you have never seen and experiences you have yet to enjoy.

But don't make the mistake I made.

Don't place your entire life on hold while waiting for it to become something else.

Don't allow suffering to persuade you that you have less to offer than you really do.

Love while you can.

Embrace laughter when it comes.

Receive kindness.

Offer it freely.

Notice the beauty that exists alongside the brokenness.

And when suffering comes, as it inevitably will, remember that its presence does not mean life has departed.

Someday may hold wonderful things.

But today is the only day we have been given to live.

And I no longer intend to miss it while waiting for a promise tomorrow never made.

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