In Summary: * Listening to WTMJ, radio home of the Brewers, ahead of tonight's baseball game. GO BREWERS!

Also, this has been a good day for doing things with the wife: the brunch at Lin's; a major project here at home in the morning; exploring, driving to a new Clinic where I have an appointment in a few days; talking through different issues in the afternoon, etc.

And the adventure continues.

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= 211.20 lbs. * bp= 128/76 (75)

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

Diet: * 07:40 – 1 banana, 1 sausage burrito * 12:30 – big 4-plate buffet brunch * 15:00 – Arby's Roast Beef Sandwich

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 06:10 – wake * 06:50 – bank accounts activity monitored * 07:00 -read, write, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials, take daily meds, unpack, organize * 10:30 – exploring, find location of new doctor's office ahead of next week's appointment * 12:30 – big buffet brunch with Sylvia * 13:40 – back home in time to catch the 4th Quarter of the IU / Michigan game

Chess: * 17:30 – moved in all pending CC games; losing 2, and winning 1.

Love is action.

Genius is masterpiece.

2026 World Series Game 2

The Milwaukee Brewers and Tampa Bay Rays meet again tonight in the second game of this year's MLB World Series, and this will be my Saturday's game of choice. The game is scheduled to start at 7:00 PM CDT. As I usually do during the regular season, I'll be following the game's scores and stats in real time via MLB's Gameday Service, and I'll listen to the radio pregame show and the call of the game provided by announcers of WTMJ 620, Wisconsin.

I tried following Game 1 last night over the MLB Netework, and over FOX, but quickly found myself put off by the presentations of both networks. I am clearly NOT a member of their target demographic. Constant references to betting odds, and ads for different betting companies, constant adds for beer, wine and spirits (on MLB Network, especially) disgusted me. I don't gamble and I don't drink alcohol. So I went to my old favorite, MLB's Gameday Service, and the excellent announcers of WTMJ. And I enjoyed the baseball game. And I'm planning to do that again tonight.

And the adventure continues.

Quick and easy preparation, and pretty good taste for the effort

Ingredients

• ½ ring smoked sausage
• 1 – 15 oz can sweet potatoes in syrup
• 1 large apple, cut into ¾” chunks
• 1 Tbsp flour

Directions

• Slice sausage into ¼ inch coins
• Put sausage in skillet and begin heating over medium heat
• When sausage begins to brown, flip sausage coins and add apple
• When both sides of the sausage are browned, add sweet potatoes and the syrup they're canned in
• Once the liquid begins to boil, add flour and stir in
• Continue heating until liquid has thickened to a gravy, then remove from heat and serve.

#recipe #main #skillet

Shall we have a laugh and raise a toast as blood for whine betrays its host?

When talk churns cheap and morals fray how easy truths careen and sway.

Prey knot the wiles of antinomian fume. Instead sweep doubts with unfurled broom.

Aghast, each scripture baits to jar when sheep are led to maim and scar.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

Steeds meer mensen overlijden door Plasticide.

In Smægmå komen meer en meer mensen in de problemen door een scala aan problemen veroorzaakt door algemene aanschaf overdaad. Bij een onderzoek uitgevoerd door onderzoeksbureau Aangelijnde Nationale Welzijns Bank {ANWB} bleek dat het aantal sterfgevallen door Plasticide de afgelopen vijf jaar flink is toegenomen. Plasticide is doodsoorzaak nummer één bij net gescheiden alleenstaande papegaaien en aquarium bezitters met een stemmingsstoornis tussen de 30 en 35 jaar, vijf jaar geleden overleed nog niemand uit die categorie aan deze kwaal, niet alleen omdat deze toen nog niet officieel was benoemd door doktoren met een passie voor ontdekken van kwalen en deze dan officieel labelen als zijnde een ziekte maar ook omdat deze categorie nog niet officieel was opgenomen als categorie bij het centraal bureau bevolking statistiek.

Gelukkig zijn ze daar tot diepere inzichten gekomen waardoor we nu iedere dag meer komen te weten over iedere groep die het bureau officieel heeft onderscheiden van de andere grotere groep normale gezonde mensen. Deze groep is zelfs inmiddels ook een steeds beperktere groep. Op dit moment is nog maar twee procent van heel Smægmå normaal gezond, dit aangezien onze veel wetende over alles in en om ons doktoren steeds meer afwijkingen weten te vinden. Inmiddels zijn het vooral artsen die als enigsten nog binnen de afgetekende welzijn lijntjes passen. Waarschijnlijk ook omdat zij degenen zijn die het ongezond zijn het meeste vrezen want dan zullen ze onder behandeling komen van hun vrienden, collega's en dat willen ze liever niet aangezien zij net wat meer weten over de ware aard van het trek en duw gezondheidswerk.

Plasticide is het ineens overlijden door een overdosis aan bestelde en ontvangen pakketjes in zeer korte tijd. Het zoeken, uitpakken, als ook wachten op de cadeaus, de hele, lange dagen tracken en tracen, zorgt voor zoveel mentale en fysieke spanningen dat de veroorzaker daarvan, de koper, pardoes om het leven komt. Meestal bij het uitpakken van een geschenk maar soms ook net ervoor bij het openen van de deur voor de bezorger of tijdens het bestel proces, maar liefst 5 procent van de Plasticide slachtoffers overlijdt tijden de Weerozeero betaling. De Weerozeero groep wil trouwens niet reageren op vragen gesteld door het artsen collectief. Deze betichten de groep van het opzettelijk veroorzaken van enorm betaalgemak waardoor deze toch al uitzonderlijk kwetsbare groep der groot pakketjes bestellers geneigd is tot een overdaad. Aldus de artsen, geneeskrachtige managers, is er een memo in omloop waarin staat dat de bende achter Weerozeero mensen met opzet zo ver wil krijgen dat ze een ongezonde dosis cadeaus en dergelijke boodschappen bestellen, liefst overal en nergens, op elk tijdstip van de dag. Dit vooral omdat zij heel veel meer baat hebben bij een overspannen economische toestand in het hele land dan de mensen thuis, die waarschijnlijk liever niks of bijna niks willen willen maar juist die kalme toestand niet meer kunnen bereiken door de aanwezigheid van driftig handelende, adverterende, mailende, flyerende, reclame filmpjes producerende, advertentie plaatsende en andere vormen van duiden op 1001 zeldzame beste koopkansjes, de eeuwig alles roepende winkeliers en hun bijbehorende ketens. Deze memo bestaat volgens de Weerozeero groep niet, maar is enkel een gerucht aangemaakt door ernstig geradicaliseerde uiterst linkse groepen anti-kapitalisten.

Ondanks deze doldwaze ritjes in de grote geruchten malle molen blijft het feit staan dat er alleen dit jaar al vijftig mensen zijn omgekomen door een overdosis aan pakketjes in korte tijd. Het aantal [zelf] geschenken dat gevaar op levert voor de volksgezondheid is om en nabij de 50 per week, zeker drie weken lang, mensen lopen dan een veel groter risico op hard falen en missie lukken van de bloedsomloop, tevens zorgt het voor ernstige psychische klachten zoals derepressie en afhankelijkheid van postbezorger problematiek, natuurlijk is er ook grote kans op zware schulden last overal en nergens. Eenmaal over de normale kooplijn van ongeveer 2 á 3 pakketjes per week naar vijftig is er al vaak grote schade op het koop immuun systeem bij dergelijke labiele mensen.

Artsen willen aan de hand van het rapport en de daaropvolgende Plasticide campagne overheden en mensen wijzen op het grote gevaar van dergelijk gedrag. Weliswaar vinden zij dat het toch vooral de verantwoording is voor de koper zelf om zijn aangelijnde bestel gedrag te normaliseren om problemen zoals Plasticide maar ook Karton deficiëntie en Bubbelplastic contaminatie te voorkomen. Maar het is dan natuurlijk wel noodzakelijk dat mensen zich bewust worden van de risico's die zij lopen als ze inloggen op hun persoonlijke winkel account en meer en meer willen willen zoals winkels en hun ketens graag willen dat zij veel willen omdat dit zo goed is voor de economie van voornamelijk Åzcyå, de inkopers eruit, luchtvaart- en transportmaatschappijen, brandstof voor die voertuigen leveranciers, miljoenen marketeers en daarnaast van computer e.d. Apparaten verkopers en daaraan verbonden grote nog meer energie slurpende data centrales, zij die de schijven leveren en draaiende houden waarop al die artikel plaatjes en lovende teksten staan met hun bijpassende kunstmatig super pientere schommelende (maar niet teveel) prijskaartjes, want kunstmatig pienter heeft zo zijn vooraf ingestelde grenzen waar binnen een prijs mag schommelen, ook kunstmatige intelligentie moet hier en daar worden ingeperkt.

Vandaar dus dat wij op dit kwaliteitsblog graag onze overdaad aan zeer zinvolle preek ruimte verkopen aan dit driftig bezige veel geld dienende parate staat gezondheidscollectief. Wij willen natuurlijk ook niets liever dan gezonde mensen zo goed als mogelijk elke dag overleven in een heerlijke koop, inkoop, doorverkoop omgeving net als hier en nu in ons geweldig bijzon welvarende Smægmå.

Dit artikel werd mogelijk gemaakt door welzijnswinkel eropenover.com en geenverweerstandje bv. Het zou het kunstlicht ook niet gezien hebben zonder een flinke bak aan subsidie gelden afkomstig van het ministerie van handelsbelangen.

“MY FATHER ADRESSES ME ON THE FACTS OF OLD AGE” (2002)

Kitaptan beşinci seçimim, Grace Paley’den. Bir baba, bir masa ve evlat. Yaş alma dersleri konuşulacaktır. Hikâye şu sözlerle açılır: “My father had decided to teach me how to grow old. I said O.K.”

O masaya çoğumuz oturmuştur, çoğu zaman dayanamayıp kalkmışızdır. Dersler aralıklı olarak farklı mekânlarda hep tekrarlanır. Alamadığımız derslerin sayısı, alabildiklerimizden katça fazladır.

Oğuz Atay’ın Korkuyu Beklerken kitabında “Babama Mektup” bölümünde söylediği gibi “bütün dünyanın suratına çarpıp durmadan kapıları” (1) bir soluk alıp kulak vermek gerekebilir. Ve yaş almanın bir tarafı kesinkes melankoliktir.

Çok sevdiğim Harun Kolçak, o güzel şarkısında “Yıllar, yıllar, niye batıyor günler, hani nerede dünler, ya siz nerede bittiniz?” demektedir. Yıllar geçerken, karşımızda bir hikâye durmaktadır. İlk kroşe gelir, sağdan mı soldan mı bilinmez ama bence tam ortadandır, baba der ki:

· Dikkatin fazlasıyla dağınık,

· Değiş der, giyim-kuşam ve bakım tavsiyeleri verir,

· İnsanların gözlerinin “ta” içine bak demek ister, “Don’t squint”den bunu anlar okuyan kişi. Gözlerinin ‘ta’ içine bakmak gerçekten çok zordur, rahatsız ettiğimizi düşünürüz. Ve o gözden payımıza düşenler bizi korkutur. Baba bilir, ama bilmezlikten gelir. Derinlerde kendisinin sebep olduğu bir neden vardır ancak şöyle denir: Artık top sende, kroşe gelmiştir bir kere; hadi bakalım, topu şimdi nereye atacaksın?

****

“TAKE YOUR HEART IN YOUR TWO HANDS”

· Sabırlı ol ve her sabah kalktığında, “kalbini” iki elinin avuçlarına al der,

“When you get up in the morning you must take your heart in your two hands. You must do this every morning.” (572)

· Sakince ve yumuşak konuş, bağırma, her şeyi söyleyebilirsin ama ‘saygılı’ ol der:

“Heart, little heart, beat softly but never forget your job, the blood. You can also whisper also, Remember, Remember.” (…)

“O little heart, you worked like a bastard, like a dog, like a crazy slave, bang, bang, bang that day, remember?” (572)

· Çocuklar der, milyon yıl geçse seni unutmazlar— nasıl hissettirdiğini,

· Kendi inanç sistemi içinde din hakkında bir şeyler söylemeye çalışır, bu konuda konuşmak hep zordur. Yalnızca şunu söylemekle yetinir: Neyi yaptığın, yapmadığın, nelerden vazgeçtiğin, kime hakaret ettiğin, rencide ettiğin, ihanet ettiğin, bunlar bilinir.

· Zor zamanda, birinin yanında olmak çok önemlidir der. Özellikle sevdiklerinin. “Bir taş gibi” o insanın aklında kalır:

“Do you remember, you didn’t go see your aunt, she was dying? That will be on your mind like a stone.” (573)

· Tutuklanma hikâyesini anlatır ve annesinin gözlerine baktıktan sonraki kararında; hiçbir şeyin çok fazlası iyi değil der: Bu bir ideoloji, bu bir yemek de olabilir, yeşillik bile olsa.

“HA HA HA, TOMORROW WILL COME”

· Yatırım işlerinden der, evlat! Uzak dur. Evlat sorar, herkes milyoner oluyor, çok çok paralar kazanıyor, baba sorar:

“But what of tomorrow?” he asked.

“Tomorrow, I said, they’ll make another million.”

“No, no, no, I mean TOMORROW. I was there when TOMORROW came in 1929. So, I say to them and their millions, HA HA HA, TOMORROW will come. Go home now, I have a great deal more to tell you. Somehow, I’m always tired.” (574)

Babanın Büyük Buhran’a referans verdiği anlaşılır, (yani bu yazıyı yazan kişi) öyle anlamıştır.

****

Kızı, eşiyle boşanma sürecinde olduğunu söyler babasına. Evleri ayırma ya da tamamen boşanma seçenekler arasındadır. Geleneksellik her yerde vardır, baba gidebildiği yere kadar sürdür, artık olmuyorsa ondan sonra bağları kopart der: En sonunda ikiniz de ayrı huzurevine çıkarsınız der, e tabii şaka yapmaktadır. Mizah hep vardır, tam da böyle zamanlarda.

“You’ll see, in thirty years from now, you’ll get tired often. It doesn’t mean you’re sick. This is something important that I’m telling you. Listen. To live a long time, long years, you’ve got to sleep a certain extra percentage away. It’s a shame. (575)

****

Bugünlük ders bitmiştir ancak bir dersten öbür derse geçilir. Bu sefer işin içinde siyasi konular vardır: Baba siyaseti ve bir mutfak. Kızının göz ucuyla gördüğü, Turgenyev’in Babalar ve Oğullar kitabı. Rusya düşünülmekte ancak Rusya’nın bundan hiçbir haberi olmamaktadır. Bir babayla kavga etmeden “siyaset” konuşmak; yeteneğin ötesinde bir beceridir, baba bir anda şöyle der:

“I don’t believe he was an anti-Semite. Of course, most of them were, even if they had brains. I don’t think Gorky was, Gogol probably. Tolstoy, no, Tolstoy had an opinion about the Mexican American War. Did you know? Of course, most were anti-Semites. Dostoyevsky. It was natural, it seems. (576)

· Ne olursa olsun oku der; bunun pişmanlığı hem anne hem baba da vardır. Kendilerini siyasi meselelere kaptırmışlar ve bu şekilde daha değerli birisi olacaklarını düşünmüşlerdir.

· Sonlara doğru konu, aşka ve cinselliğe gelir. Bunların konuşulması hep zordur kapalı kapılar ardına itilir ama söylediklerinin sonunda, bir şeylerin hep bittiğini ima eder ve şu cümle dökülür:

“Then one day in the morning she comes to me, my wife. She shows me a spot over her left breast. I know right away. I don’t touch it. I see it. In my mind I turn it this way and that. But I know in that minute, in one minute, everything is finished, finished happiness, pleasure, finished, finished, years ahead black. (578)

· Bu nedenle der, kendine iyi bakmalısın, bir de muz: her gün bir tane, yenmeli, potasyum,

****

En son konu kardeşine gelir, Grisha’ya. Yıl 1922’yi gösterir, öncesinde Palmer Baskınları bahsi geçer. Ardından Russian Artist Club (Rusya Sanatçılar Kulübü) ve Bakunin, Emma Goldman, Berkman ve Lenin isimlerini duyarız. O dönemde, Rusya’da Yahudi toplumunun uğradığı kitlesel zulümler ve baskılardan (pogrom) bahsedilir. Kardeşinin bir sanatçı olduğunu anlarız, başına bir şeyler gelmiştir.

****

Ve babanın ağzından şu sözler dökülür:

“Don’t leave me here, take me home to die, And I didn’t. And her face looked at me that day and many, many mornings look at me still.” (579)

Bu bir (baba-oğul) hikâyesi değildir aksine ters köşedir ve siyasi bir alt metin vardır. Az da olsa daha belirgin bir şekilde bize görünür. Sonlara yaklaşılmaktadır ve baba şöyle kapatır:

“Enough, already, he said. I had the job to tell you how to take care of yourself, what to expect. About the heart- you know it was not a metaphor. But in the end a great thing, a really interesting thing, would be to find out what happened to our Grisha. You’re smart. You can do it. Also, you’ll see, you’ll be lucky in this life to have something you must do to take your mind of all the things you didn’t do. Then he said. I suppose that is something like a joke. But, my dear girl, very serious.” (579)

“Her gün kalbini, iki elinin arasına alma” düşüncesi ilham vericidir, unuttuğumuz çok olur. Bahsi geçen hikâyedeki “yaş alma derslerine” katılmadığınız yerler de mutlaka vardır. Biliriz ki dersler hiç bitmez, öğrenme hep devam eder ve yaşantı bir adım önde gider: O sesi yabana atmamak gerekebilir.

Bahsi geçen eserler:

Dipnot 1: Oğuz Atay, Korkuyu Beklerken (İstanbul: İletişim Yayınları, 2016), 180.

A CENTURY OF FICTION IN THE NEW YORKER 1925-2025 EDITED BY DEBORAH TREISMAN. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2025.

Lois Shelton’ın çektiği Grace Paley fotoğrafı, Arizona Üniversitesi, Poetry Center (VOCA) arşivinden alınmıştır.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to update my VPS. Usually, I do this once a week, sometimes more frequently depending on any security news I see. I should probably have the AI agents I use do this, but I do it myself for now. I find infrastructure interesting and “boring” in a good way most of the time.

While updating one of my VPSes, I got a message saying I needed to pay for access to Caddy because the repository had reached its bandwidth limit. This was from a company called Cloudsmith. I wasn't the only one getting this message, either. There was already a large discussion going on over at Caddy's GitHub.

This led me down a big rabbit hole that lasted quite a few hours, and I'm still thinking about it. My first thought wasn't about the bandwidth limit itself, but whether this could be a new type of attack. Caddy is open source and free, and it's used by a lot of people, organizations, and companies. We've seen several different supply chain attacks over the years. But what if someone deliberately flooded the repositories of open-source projects and used up their free bandwidth allowances? People wouldn't be able to download security updates, leaving older, bug-ridden versions of the software running and potentially vulnerable to exploitation.

Before anyone says not to give people ideas, I'm sure someone has already thought of this. It's kind of a modern-day denial-of-service attack, just from a different angle.

As it turned out, Caddy's repository had exhausted its 4.9 TB monthly bandwidth allowance. Apparently, much of the traffic came from automated systems repeatedly downloading packages. Some IP addresses had reportedly made hundreds of thousands of requests. That's a lot of bandwidth for a free open-source project to deal with.

Luckily, there was no indication this was a deliberate attack, so my aluminum foil hat could come off. By the end of the weekend, someone at Cloudsmith had fixed the bandwidth limit problem, and everyone could update again.

What I found encouraging was that several other providers contacted the maintainer and offered to help. I'm not sure if any of those offers were accepted, but it was good to see people stepping up to help keep a free project running.

And that's something I appreciate about open source. Projects like Caddy and Traefik are useful to a lot of people, including me, and much of the work behind them is done by people who aren't getting rich from it. Meanwhile, we have hardware manufacturers shifting supply toward their most profitable customers while the rest of us deal with higher prices and fewer choices.

It's quite a contrast. On one side, companies making hardware harder and more expensive for ordinary people to get. On the other, people putting their time and effort into making software that anyone can use, often for little or no rewards and riches.

I'm glad there are still people willing to do that for the greater good of the internet.

#caddy #selfhosting #technology

Let's think about something for one minute.

If James Talarico was the Bible-believing Christian he wants us to think he is, the Left wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, let alone fawn over him and pour millions of dollars into getting him elected.

Seriously. They think you're stupid. Resist.

#politics

This October has been an expensive one. First, our hot water heater went out. It was probably about 10 years old. Then, two days after our water heater went out, the refrigerator went out, and it was also about 10 years old. Fixing it would cost more than buying a new one. So off to Home Depot we went, and $1,900 later, we had a nice new refrigerator with a five-year warranty. It's bigger than the old one but more energy-efficient, and it has LED lighting, which is very bright.

Ten years for both appliances. That seems to be the norm now, though I would like to go back to the days when appliances lasted 20–30 years or more.

Speaking of appliances and household gadgets, can we get just a plain-Jane dumb TV? Nothing smart, just a TV where we can plug in a stick or a small box like an Apple TV, Fire TV, or Google TV. The dumb TV just needs a nice picture, good sound, and a digital tuner. I don't need smarts built into the TV. I would rather have those features separate so they're easier to upgrade and maintain, and cheaper in the long run.

This has been quite a year for major hardware purchases, both for computers and home appliances. Hopefully, that's it. One thing I don't want right now is any more hard drive or RAM problems, as computer hardware is almost as expensive as kitchen appliances.

There have been enough unexpected expenses this year, including a dead hard drive that, ironically, was over 10 years old. So this year, all the 10s died.

Praying that's it for the next few years when it comes to expensive household appliances or much-needed computer equipment.

#hardware #personal #technology

So many dreams, all day long. I slept all day long. My old friend, Julius was in one of them. Him and a guy that I’ve met in real life but… was not Boyfriend, someone familiar. We were all matching somewhat and wearing similar colours. When I pointed it out, one of them mentioned about taking a picture to capture the moment. So I did. Was Garfield somehow involved? There was also a scene with a handful of my batch-mates from high school were about to go to jail. I don’t remember what for, but I was giving them hugs before it morphed into another part of the dream. At some point, I was in a dream where Ethan Klein was hitting on me and trying to make me his side-piece. Ew, I know. I had just been watching a video about the whole ordeal so I think it was fresh in my mind. There was also, as part of a ceremony, where I was helping a kid and his dad unfurl a flag that was tangled. They were going to be walking down towards the stage as part of a parade (I was a close family friend or I think teacher of the child) but the flag kept being tangled up. I told them to walk slower and that we’ll get it. They just need to trust me and wait. We eventually did and all was well.

---

Since my friend L found a printer I’ve been printing out old writings. I moved away from my dependency on LiveJournal, to this site called “Write Together”–does anyone remember that? It encouraged me to write again, and quite verbosely.

In this return to writing, I feel the challenge of finding the thoughts. Focusing and creating a unity. Even though I meditate, the mind, when trying to write feels scattered. It’s definitely gotten better since I limited my YouTube rabbit holes, but it’s a new writing era once again. I want to keep reading and refraining from digital dependency in every moment. Must I bring my phone everywhere? Must I scroll through YouTube before bed? Can’t I pick a book and stick to it? The reason for all my dreams for example, was that I fell asleep with YouTube playing in the background. I think it affected my dreams and consciousness. I’m glad that I remembered it though. That’s a sure sign that I am allowing for my body to feel spaciousness and pause.

#writing #daily #dreams

Don't tell me what someone said. Tell me what their words made you think. Don't list books you've read or classes you've attended. Tell me how they changed you. What did you gather from them? Don't tell me where you've traveled and who you've dealt with. Tell me why. Tell me how. Tell me where you failed and why you think you did.

Tell me something about three people you notice each day on your normal routes. Three people who you only recognize in passing. Tell me about the animals along those paths. Are any pregnant? Do any have young children? Are any wounded? Tell me about the plants. Tell me about the buildings. Tell me about the shifting scents.

I don't want to hear about other persons' thoughts and life experiences as a reference to your own. I want to hear where your path causes your feet to ache. I want to hear what has crawled under your skin and taken up residence. I care not for the superficial mask placed on parade for the world to approve. I care about the guts, the fear, the hopes, and the dreams. I want to know what really makes you tick, and what you're afraid to let tock.

I want to know you — naked, beautiful, grotesque, strong, vulnerable you. Not who your parents attempted to mold you into. Not who society told you that you should be. Not who life demanded you become.

You. Simply, complicated, unobscured you.

Everything else is just window dressing, and I prefer to shop for keeps.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

Not edited nor proofread.

Weer Zinin Herhalin' ; Poken in Koudvuur

Weken lang kon ik niks bedenken om mezelf net als u verwerkend voortdurend te herhalen maar dan wel net iets anders dan de reeks reeds geserveerde @malen ik zocht voor vlot met stroom ontdooien volop verkrijgbare vers ingevroren inspiratie keek bij alle naamborden van alle geregistreerde gemeenschappen in deze conster natie ik keek bij de miljarden lijken in de kast en tuurde duizenden uren achter al het behang onophoudelijk, onstuitbaar, kranig en zeer gedecideerd alle lege dagen lang ik ga u nu zeggen waar ik de oplossing uiteindelijk vond het lag onder de dikke cont van een verveeld omhangende mastodont ik moet toegeven dat ik op die zoek locatie geen mastodont had verwacht maar toen ik dat schepsel zag wist ik meteen dat mijn inspiratie er onder lag nieuwe versies van oude verhalen houden die mastodonten achter en van die frisse herhalingen maken ze zitzakken want dat materiaal zit zachter ze doen niks liever dan lamlendig omhangen in het onbekende bekende ze suffen, wentelen en kroelen in het door hun gedonder voor eeuwig ombeminde met behulp van een kromme alineaal, een oud verherhaal en een vals lied gezongen in een al eeuwen uitgestorven klank taal komen die dwaze mastodonten uit hun voor omhangen geprefabriceerde holen waar ze de re-creatieve mens melkkoeien voor eeuwig in en nabij hun t_veestallen laten dolen eenmaal in die bewerkelijkheid met hun binnenste buiten en andersom zijn ze wat minder goed gedekt daar heb ik ze onopvallend in hun dikke huid geprikt en daardoor ontstond een inspiratie lek een lekkende mastodont is wel ten dode opgeschreven dat is het enige offer dat ze moeten afgeven om altijd vrijuit het leven overal in re residerend te stelen vandaar dat ze zo spaarzaam buiten die extreem beveiligde contfort zone handelend op traden

begin van een vers einde

I am engaged in writing an essay. It is in pursuit of my own sense of wonder. At this point I do not know if it will be published. If I am honest, the driver to finish it may be the need for material for a proposed book of essays. Otherwise I am content to leave it becoming. In a sense it has always been becoming; since the first days as a child that I looked at pictures of the sky in a book. That in-itself I now see as revealing; for the curiosity of what lay beyond, came not from simply standing during the day or at night and looking into the eastern void, but sitting with a book on my lap looking at a photograph; naming the stars I had just been observing. Perhaps the essay I am striving to write was born in that moment, in a boy of eleven years of age.

I seem always to have favoured a view of the east, this perhaps is a declaration of both my choice of stance, and an honesty in respect of my attention. As a young long-distance runner, I always delighted in running in the pre-dawn of day amid my rotating friends and family on the eastern horizon; and tracked the passing of my time with the appearance of Venus sometimes towards the north, sometimes, the south, but always on that eastern horizon. Until of course she was not, preferring to spend some time in the west. Most especially on those occasions when she hung low in the south-western sky and claimed our attention with her brightness. She was impossible to ignore. I almost lived by her oscillation upon the ecliptic.

And now a sudden illumination arrives about my home in the province of La Soule (Xiberoa in Basque) south-west France. A 16th century stone house on a east-west alignment. The balcony of my bedroom facing due east, a raised terrace facing south-east and the curiously functional eskeratz with its grand double doors facing full west. A geometry unique to this valley in the Pyrenees. Perhaps this is what drew me here. When shopping for a house in the south-west I knew instantly that this is where I wanted to be.

My home in Ireland offers the same disposition; front door, windows and patio, all looking directly east across the Irish sea offering the blessing of darkness. An ink-stained backcloth on which to find our way, navigating in red and green against a cosmos in black and revealing shades of white; cold white, warm white, the light of the wanderers we call the planets. We are blessed even with our local navigation light on Rockabill; it is a sectored light, which means that when shone towards us, on the coast, the light is red, and offers no disturbance to us as we scan the night sky with our binoculars. That view has sponsored more than a few magazine features, about the night sky or the re-telling of the stories of King Caphaeus, his wife Cassiopeia, their daughter Andromeda and suitor Perseus. One can imagine them today, King Caphaeus resigned to live with the consequences of his desire for a trophy wife. And she, Cassiopeia obsessed with her own beauty, posing for her Instagram account and arguing incessantly with her daughter Andromeda in their reality TV series; and perhaps flirting with Perseus her daughter's suitor. The stars were gods, but as flawed as humans whose power only magnified the impact and intensity of their frailties. Even so, oftimes, lying with my back on the deck of the boat, just observing their nightly celestial play, I would glance at them, not for another episode in their story, but to ask them, Is this the right way?.

So years later, it is a winter night. I am seated on my balcony once again, gazing at the constellations; re-imagining their stories; their adventurous arrival here through time. And with the habit of the eleven year old boy I return to my parlour, take a Surface tablet in my hands and navigate what we know of the view. A world of knowledge at my fingertips I scan and scroll my way through fields of notion and anti-notion, of conjecture and refutation. How old is the universe, how big is the universe, and the curious contradictions between our models of physics and astronomy.

My commonplace book was filled with disconnected fragments from television documentaries, YouTube features and science magazine articles: the cosmic microwave background, ancient light still speaking to us; electrons entangled across distance; photons mediating interactions between particles; the James Webb telescope detecting light from perhaps the beginning of everything, or perhaps not. I struggled to make the pieces fit. My world is built upon relations. Relation upon relation. This was disjointed and disorienting. Webb was not photographing the beginning, I began to understand, but light from some of the earliest galaxies—light that had travelled for more than thirteen billion years. And still the question persisted: what did it mean to see that far back? The fragments made no sense to the reflecting elder, or to the eleven-year-old boy still engaged with his wonder.

And then the question arrives: What if extension were a function of sentience? Immediately I realize this is a black hole. And I grip hard upon the outer rim. I cannot allow it to draw me in uncontrollably. Another immediacy. I rely now entirely upon the practice of essay. Open a OneNote page on the tablet and begin to explore the black hole.

David Marshall Montory

C’est un moment qui n’est pas simple à partager. Mais je le fais ici.

Une personne. Avec des qualités remarquables. Une présence solaire. Une écoute sincère. Une empathie véritable. Une sensibilité rare.

J’ai connu cette personne. Et je viens aujourd’hui de faire le choix d’arrêter les échanges que j’entretenais avec elle.

Pour me “protéger”.

Nous n’étions pas alignés sur la relation que l’on voulait entretenir ensemble.

Mais je maudis cette époque où deux personnes qui pourraient s’apporter tellement mutuellement, ne le font pas, pour des raisons qui parfois m’échappent.

Il me semble que les relations étaient plus simples à une autre époque. Plus challengeantes peut-être, mais plus naturelles à initier.

Aujourd’hui, tout est prétexte à ne plus s’engager.

Je m’inclus bien sûr dans cette critique...