Notes Toward a Profane Theology of My Own Making

Sin: a fail towards the joy of living, a distraction from the delight Sacred: a belonging to the realm of subjectivism, whatever moves you. Gods: beings capable of making or unmaking the world, and therefore untouched by the pleasure of desire. Generation: age clusters destined to fail better than those who came before.

/Sep26

I won this CC tournament game a few minutes ago with a Rook-Queen Combination Checkmate. While my Rook's 41...Rd1# delivered the mating move, all the White King's possible flight squares were covered by that Rook or by my Black Queen at f2. This game began on 27 July, was played with a comfortable 2 days per move time control, and ended, as I said above, a few minutes ago.

The position of pieces at game's end is shown in the graphic above, and our game's full move record is below:

1. e4 a6 2. Bc4 e6 3. Qf3 f6 4. Qh5+ g6 5. Qf3 Bg7 6. g4 b5 7. Bd3 Bb7 8. g5 Nc6 9. gxf6 Nxf6 10. e5 Nd5 11. c3 Nxe5 12. Qg3 Nxd3+ 13. Qxd3 O-O 14. Ne2 Qf6 15. c4 Nb4 16. Qb3 Qxf2+ 17. Kd1 Bxh1 18. Qxb4 Qf1+ 19. Kc2 Be4+ 20. Kb3 Qf3+ 21. Nec3 c5 22. Qxc5 Rf5 23. Qc7 Qd3 24. Na3 bxc4+ 25. Ka4 Bc6+ 26. Kb4 Bf8+ 27. Qd6 Qxd6+ 28. Kxc4 Rf4+ 29. Kb3 Rb8+ 30. Kc2 Be4+ 31. Nxe4 Rxe4 32. d3 Re2+ 33. Bd2 Rc8+ 34. Nc4 Qc5 35. Kd1 Rxh2 36. Kc2 Bh6 37. Rd1 Bxd2 38. Rxd2 Rxd2+ 39. Kc1 Rxd3 40. b3 Qf2 41. Kb1 Rd1#

And the adventure continues.

Over a year ago, I didn’t know who this man was and how much he would impact on my thinking. If you didn’t know, Wendell Berry recently passed away on August 31st at the age of 92. He was a writer, farmer, and conservationist.

The first essay I read was Why I Am Not Going to Buy a Computer. It made me think of all the electronic devices I’ve used. The constant recharging, letting it run out of juice regardless if I used them or not, and finally leaving them in my drawer not used for months.

But it also made me rethink my writing. The countless hours of leaving my laptop and whatever writing app on but not a single word typed, the distractions of email and YouTube, and all the numerous electronic devices that supposedly helped me write whereas I could get a lot more done with just paper and pencil.

Therefore, I write with my notepad/notebook with pencil before typing my draft on my phone or laptop. I sharpen my pencils with a hand-cranked sharpener or pocket knife. I write during the daytime only and don’t sacrifice sleep. And I don’t fall for the next latest app or device that will supposedly help me be a “better” writer.

I bought the two Library of America volumes of Mr. Berry’s essays and hope to read all of them. I might buy his fiction and poems although I’m not a fan of the latter. While I’ll never have as much of his pinky of talent I’ll always remember to use technology judiciously and that paper and pencil/pen is best when starting to write anything.

Rest in peace, Mr. Berry.

#writing #rip #wendellberry

One of my friends introduced me to 'Dungeon Crawler Carl'. My number finally came up with the libraries on my Libby. (Yes, I most enthusiasticlly participate with as many that will allow me to.) The series is quickly becoming a guilty pleasure. It's cheesy, quirky, filled with nuanced wit, and damn, I love that cat.

Alas, my writing here is likely to be very random for a while. This book makes me grin and laugh, there's a whole series, and it's definitely not AI slop. It's a nice escape from the current idiocy that has become reality.

I have the sound of rain playing throughout my apartment today. I'm working, taking a break to read, and allowing the soothing noise to calm my nerves. The unknown anxiety has really ramped up this past week. When I get like this, something very big usually hits the fan. I'm trying to ignore it since these days that could literally mean anything, and with the state of “leadership” at this time... I am most grateful for the distraction.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

Conditional friendships and those arrangements...

Simply put: THEY DO NOT WORK. It's like supply and demand. And it's just produce endlessly but nothing is ever coming back to me. Not just the simplest thing that I want: an ear to listen back to me, NOT just me constantly listening and providing.

I always leave these dynamics because friendship (to me) is showing reciprocity, curiousness in the person's situations and mutual respect for one another. If that is not present, it just never works for me...

It's a chronic imbalance.

Drafting tomorrow's newsletter. Not ideal, because today has announced itself to be Migraine Day. The cause, I know; woke up yesterday at 6:00 am and didn't get to bed till 3:00 am! Despite which, I awoke today at 7:30 am! Running on little over than 3 hours of sleep here and cannot shut my eyes no matter how hard I try.

There really was no burning reason for me to pull a 21-hour day yesterday, it just sorta happened.

I may be stressing over the abhorrent amount of dough I dropped on a massive Ikea order the other day. But, I have been without a sofa or reading chair or adequate lighting or storage solutions for well over a year now and I just can't take it anymore. It's true that I may have promised myself to shun Ikea, but it still offers the fastest and most practical solutions to too many things, and Egyptian craft/handy men have broken me good.

In other news, I am officially a cat daddy now. Little fucker wouldn't stop following me around, crisscrossing between my legs and often tripping me in the process. So I figured: fine, I'll let him inside. But not before bathing him which I figured would make him hate me to death till the end of time.

Nope, he made himself comfortable in my arms and let me lather away without the slightest bit of resistance. Even purring in the process! At which point, I completely gave in to the prospect of being his obedient slut for life. Because if you know anything about cats, you know that that level of trust seldom comes easy.

#journal

Why do you not like the USA?

120 kids, poof. If you ever wonder why folks hate us, that’s a good start. I looked at AP headlines with coffee and saw the remnants of a school we bombed. I saw pictures of the services, the rubble, the grief. Iran is difficult. Since the early 50’s, We have routinely screwed them over. We act indignant if they seem upset about it. It never ends. Now 120 kids.

How does no one see themselves when they carry mirrors around everywhere?

We have a looking at ourselves problem because we look at ourselves all the time. I have witnessed many folks receiving new information, and reducing it to their preferences as if the information itself depended on it. “120 kids killed today by a US bombing on an Iranian school” is deep. Many folks say, “not in the mood.” Those kids and parents probably feel the same on that.

Kris says..

I try to learn about our victims. I don’t know how I could ever be truly sorry if I didn’t. But there’s so many! Kris Kristofferson said it is important to know victims. I see it. It means, “never again.” Folks here aren’t scared of the mental drag, they’re afraid of commitment.

One thing I have noticed since no phone and social media is what a commitment everything is. If I just want to look up headlines on Google, I get questions now. I get articles from 2020, 2025. It doesn’t know what to do with me. We are not in a committed relationship. I’ve lost my Google. lol.

Have a spreadsheet for user/passwords? Not me. I can tell you it is wonderful.

I would have to make user/passwords over again to get the service I have grown accustomed to. It isn’t just Google, either. Just about any store, even music ones, and even apps like “Music” or “Canva” don’t have much to go on if they can’t gather data to cater to. So they suck now too.

The worst has to be voice to text. I am not sure what is going on there. But it is unusable at the moment. Would it be better if I logged in? As near as I can figure yes, but possibly not. Apparently it is a dark age for voice to text, even though it worked fabulously just a year or two ago. But they are not getting the data from me that it needs to work well. I have read I would notice improvement, logging in.

Bad spouses and enemies always go for memory. They really do!

We are committed to these broken things like we are committed to bombing schools in Iran. No one thinks they could do anything to change status quo, so they just go with the flow. Good job, Americans. They attacked the memory so hard from Silicone Valley, we’ve forgotten who we are, all from logging in.

Historically, we are assholes to Iran. We robbed them of their Prime Minister in the early 50’s who was to nationalize their oil, nominating him for a Nobel Peace Prize. (A great book is out about that, “All the Shah’s Men” by Stephen Kinzer.) But Truman and Churchill had other plans. They installed the shah. Iran suffers for an eternity, but at least we still got their oil.

But if it isn’t oil these days, what is it?

Now, oil isn’t even the world’s number one commodity, data is. If the same kinds of folks, (or worse), are in power now, what do you think they have their eye on? Oil? Small potatoes these days. It’s the narrative. The USA is barely holding on to its own narrative to its own people. It doesn’t fight for truth, or justice. It fights to control the narrative. A huge reason for such data bullshit isn’t to control what you think as much as it is to control what you have access to for helping you think better. If everyone knew the truth about USA foreign policy history, no one would like the USA. Simple as that.

I am at the best place mentally and financially I have ever been in my life. I feel super fortunate for lots of reasons. I am giving to someone in Iran today because my heart yearns to help somehow. Also, I hope to start a fad. I think if tons of US citizens give to Iranians, the government knows they lost narrative there. People win to live to fight another day. I think that’s the least I owe them kids. I am committed to that.

Kelly Kintner, Editor, Producer

The Horse’s Mouth Magazine (Linktree)

The Kintners (Subvert)

Djembe Funk (Subvert)

Nous avons enfin accompli ce prodige moderne : transformer la guerre en contenu.

Un président publie une menace. Un ministre lui répond par un montage. Une armée diffuse ses frappes comme des bandes annonces. Les partisans ajoutent une musique épique, quelques drapeaux, une plaisanterie humiliante, puis regardent les chiffres monter. Le soldat reçoit l’ordre. Le civil reçoit l’explosion. Le dirigeant reçoit les statistiques d’engagement.

On appelle cela la communication de crise, comme si la crise était un problème d’image.

La guerre n’est pourtant pas devenue virtuelle. Une jambe arrachée ne repousse pas lorsque l’on ferme l’application. Une mère ne retrouve pas son enfant parce que le sujet cesse d’être tendance. La faim ne connaît pas les algorithmes. Le feu ne fait aucune différence entre une propagande brillante et une propagande médiocre.

Ce qui est devenu virtuel, c’est la conscience de ceux qui regardent.

Les dirigeants ont toujours vécu loin des champs de bataille. Mais leur éloignement possède aujourd’hui une perfection presque artistique. Ils voient des cartes sans entendre les cris. Ils déplacent des unités sans sentir l’odeur d’un corps brûlé. Ils parlent de fermeté depuis des pièces climatisées, protégées par des hommes dont le métier consiste précisément à leur éviter le réel.

Ceux qui décident qu’une ville peut être sacrifiée dorment rarement sous le toit qui tombera.

La distance entre la décision et sa conséquence est devenue si grande que la cruauté peut désormais se prendre pour de l’intelligence. On appelle stratégie le fait de prévoir combien d’inconnus devront mourir pour obtenir un avantage. On appelle dommages collatéraux les enfants qui empêcheraient la phrase de passer à la télévision si on les appelait par leur prénom. On appelle courage politique la capacité d’envoyer les fils des autres accomplir ce que l’on n’aurait jamais le courage de demander aux siens.

Mais il serait trop facile d’accuser seulement les puissants.

Les dirigeants ne sont pas déconnectés par accident. Ils ont appris à nous donner exactement ce que nous récompensons. Nous prétendons vouloir comprendre, mais nous voulons surtout savoir qui applaudir et qui haïr. Nous voulons un gentil assez pur pour nous dispenser de réfléchir, un monstre assez absolu pour nous autoriser à jouir de sa destruction, et une guerre assez lointaine pour que notre indignation ne trouble ni notre sommeil ni nos achats.

Nous condamnons la propagande adverse tout en partageant la nôtre.

Nous rions d’un mème montrant l’humiliation d’un peuple, puis nous nous demandons comment les sociétés deviennent barbares. Elles ne le deviennent pas en une nuit. Elles le deviennent plaisanterie après plaisanterie, simplification après simplification, lorsque la souffrance de l’autre cesse d’être une tragédie pour devenir un argument.

Le mensonge contemporain n’est plus seulement de prétendre qu’une guerre est juste. Il consiste à la rendre agréable à regarder.

Il faut une esthétique. Des images propres. Une musique grave. Une formule mémorable. Il faut que la destruction possède une identité visuelle. Il faut pouvoir soutenir un massacre avec la même facilité que l’on soutient une équipe de football. Peu importe que la vérité soit complexe. La complexité fait peu de vues et se vend mal entre deux publicités.

Alors les morts deviennent des symboles. Les vivants deviennent des audiences. La vérité devient une arme parmi les autres. Et chacun se croit résistant parce qu’il a correctement choisi son camp depuis son canapé.

La sagesse ne consiste pas à prétendre que tous les camps se valent. Ils ne se valent pas toujours. Il existe des agresseurs, des victimes, des crimes, des mensonges et des responsabilités que le confort moral ne doit pas dissoudre. Mais la sagesse commence lorsque nous refusons de transformer cette lucidité en permission de perdre notre humanité.

Elle commence lorsque nous regardons un mort sans demander d’abord s’il appartenait au bon camp.

Le véritable scandale n’est donc pas que les dirigeants soient coupés de la réalité. Le véritable scandale est que nous leur avons construit un monde dans lequel cette coupure devient une compétence. Nous élisons ceux qui simplifient, suivons ceux qui provoquent, partageons ceux qui humilient, puis feignons de découvrir qu’ils gouvernent comme ils communiquent.

Ils ne gouvernent plus le monde. Ils gouvernent sa représentation.

Et pendant qu’ils se battent pour posséder le récit, la réalité poursuit son travail silencieux sous les décombres. Elle enterre les morts que l’algorithme a déjà oubliés.

La prochaine barbarie ne portera peut être pas un uniforme inquiétant. Elle aura un compte certifié, une équipe de communication et un excellent sens de la formule.

Et nous lui mettrons probablement un cœur.

I feel like my sleep schedule has definitely been lacking recently. I find myself more and more staying up to chase, temporary dopamine, whether it’s through gaming or watching YouTube, or scrolling on my phone. I’m not proud of this. But I guess I want to try to look at this with as a little shade as possible, because I think that a shame is only something that makes it harder to make meaningful differences with. I feel like this is one of those habits, like waking up early, or not using my phone in bed. The more I normalize, and I expect watching YouTube before bed, the harder it is to stop and the more I do it. I think I could benefit from being more disciplined with this again.