Failure is the one thing that modern men are almost always willing to excuse and yet are almost never willing to learn from. No wonder it does them so little good.

from The Business, Career, and Work of Man


This is the beginning of a short story about one of my detective characters. Well, he’s really a Deputy Sheriff acting as Sheriff while the real sheriff recuperates from a car crash as the result of a felon fleeing across county lines. This is my Tuesday’s Tale. I give you, Bootin Up Like a Boss.


“What are you doing?” she demanded.

He stopped tying his laces to look up at her.

“I’m bootin up like a boss,” he replied.

“What does that even mean?” she said, exasperated.

“It means, ‘I’m bootin up like a boss,’” he said evenly.

“But you are the boss!” she said loudly.

He went back to tying his laces.

“Funny how that works, ain’t it?” he said.

She paced around the room impatiently.

He finished lacing his boots tight and stood up slowly but gracefully and then he stomped both feet to see how they fit.

“Yeah, that’ll do…” he said out loud to nobody in particular.

She turned to look at him.

“Can we go now?” she pleaded.

He looked at her patiently and then walked to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.

“When I’m good and ready. I ain’t really finished bootin up yet,” he said. “When I’m proper ready then I’ll let ya know.”

He sat down at his office desk and drank slowly from his cup of coffee. To himself and to all appearances he was alone in the room. Lost in his ruminations.

After five minutes or so he had completely drained his cup. She had tried to interrupt him several times during this interlude but he had silenced her with a single wave of his hand each time. Twice he had raised his hand an instant before she spoke, anticipating her attempts.

When his cup was empty he placed it before him on the old and weather-beaten desk, both palms cradling the still warm ceramic mug.

“Yep,” he said. “That was mighty gratifying.”

Then he stood, walked over to the high-rack and took off his field hat. He twirled it around in his hands a couple of times, running his finger along the brim as if testing it for something. Seeming to be fully satisfied with his investigations he finally placed the hat on his head, slightly askew, then took it back off, ran his fingers through his hair and settled it more evenly upon his head.

“I reckon that’ll work,” he said as if to himself.

Then he turned and looked at the woman as if seeing her for the first time.

“You ready to go now,” he asked, both casually and impatiently.

“What in the hell are you talking about!” she replied heatedly, her face reddening.

“I’m talking about doing my job,” he said as if her reaction puzzled him.

He brushed past her in a long legged stride and as stepped outside he said, “Lock up behind yerself. I ain’t yer housemaid ya know.”

He strolled out into the bright sunshine, looked around him a bit, and then crossed the street once he heard her hurrying up behind him.  That’s what bosses did…

(to be continued)


A Little Murder Story – I was working on this in my mind on my way home from town one night about 11:30 or so. It has some rough language in it, and if that offends you then skip it. (I’m not a big fan of rough language myself just to have rough language, unless it is a matter of realism, then it doesn’t bother me at all.) I couldn’t write it in the car and didn’t have my tape recorder, so I had to reconstruct it from memory. Might not be exactly what I saw in my head, but it’s pretty close.

A Murder Story is as close as a title as I’ve got, but I kinda like that, so I might just stick with it.

It isn’t the full story, as I plan to publish it. But this is my Tale for Tuesday’s Tale.



“Man, you say that shit to me again and I’ll kill your punk ass.”

I sighed. Deeply even.

“Sure kid, I have a bad case of the ‘you scared me already.’ How bout we just go back on point now?”

“I told you, I ain’t got shit to say to you.”

I pivoted. More outta habit than necessity.

“Alright then, let’s try this. I’m gonna wave my left hand in the air and you’re gonna try and track it with both eyes at once. If you can do that it’ll prove to us both that you’re smart enough to do that.”

It took him a second, but I waited through it.

“Mutha-“ he stepped towards me with his chest bowed out, hands by his side, so I raised my left hand and when he looked I hit him in the mouth with my right. He rocked back for a second, kinda stunned. So as he was still figuring the right I elbowed him across the nose with my left arm. He sat down on his knees looking up, his mouth open.

To keep it moving at a brisk pace I caught him by the shoulders, bent him back double, and slammed his head back into the chewed up pavement. Hard enough his skull bounced. Then just to be sure I grabbed him by the sides of the head and did it again.

While he flirted with a concussion I rolled him over onto his stomach and cuffed his left wrist (I had been watching him, he was definitely a southpaw) to his right ankle. He was kinda fat and big boned so it was a bit of a stretch for us both, but I had come prepared for all contingencies. Sure, they always looked funny that way but then again it usually did wonders for cooperation. This guy looked like he’d at least try and dance under duress, once he was moving again, but ya just never knew. Nine outta ten times this setup did the trick.

After that I rolled him onto his side and watched for signs of life. Sure enough he began to display a few. So I pulled out my knife to firm it up a little.

“Okey-dokey, here we go city bang-bang. Now you do believe in blood at first sight? Right? Cause I think this is the part where you tell me all about how you’re gonna saw my head off with my own knife, rape my mother, eat my dog, and commit all of the other higher level functions you’re so expert at. Boo-yah and brimstones! Or, on second thought, we can just skip that part, if it’s all the same to you, and you can go ahead and tell me who murdered the girl. I mean I’m sure you’re frightful and all but that’s my real interest. And I’m salaried, so sooner is better.”

“Man I din’t kill no little girl.” His lip was already swelling and the blood around his nose was already blackening. That would be useful in a minute or two.

I started to step over him and when I did he tried to use his right hand to catch my leg. So I stomped on his hand. Hard. He groaned, I smiled.

“I thought we had a working negotiation. But I guess we’re still gonna hav’ta work out a few mutual misunderstandings. I’ll go first if you don’t mind.”

I kicked him in the solar plexus and all his breath ran out in a huff. I think he also started to cry a little. Sometimes I had that effect on certain people.

“Isn’t this exciting? Now first of all, I said murder, not kill. And secondly I said girl, not little girl. So clearly we’re still having definitional difficulties. But we can work that out. Let’s start over, for old times’ sake.”

I bent down and took my knife and cut his cheap windbreaker off him. Then as he caught his breath I cut his sweatshirt off too.

“Wooo-weeee. That really looks cold. Old Man Winter sure does bite iffin you give him a reason, don’t he? But that’s okay, I just had coffee and a hot Danish. I’m good for an hour or two.”

He spat and cursed some. Wiggled on the icy ground. I waited politely for him to finish.

“Boy, that was an illuminating display. Thanks for that. I’m gonna write that down for later, but for now you just try and track with me for a moment, won’t ya? See, you seem to be under two unfortunate misimpressions about our situation here.

First, I don’t have a murder warrant out on me, nor have I ever done time for a previous murder conviction. Bet you’re wondering if it’s because I’ve never killed a man, or if, unlike you, I’m just good enough to have never gotten caught. Well, we’ll get around to that part later this evening, during the entertainment interlude.

And I guess the second problem is, although I’d think it might be kinda obvious by now, even to you, that I’m not exactly what you’d call a real cop. Maybe I’ve never been a real cop. If we have time tonight we might get around to that part too. Just for giggles.”

“Man, I’m telling ya I ain’t KILLED NO GIRL!” He practically roared the last part and for the first time in our whole brief relationship he said it sincerely enough that I knew he really wanted me to believe him.

“Isn’t that sweet? We’ve finally reached the stage where you care what I think. Or think I care what you say. See, we can make progress. All we gotta do is really work at it awhile. Eventually we’re even gonna get at the truth.

But before that I’m gonna take my knife and cut off your pants. And just before you’re shivering so hard you go numb all over I’m gonna cut your balls off. You’d be surprised at the amount of truth that causes to spill out of a man. So hold on tight now, we might hav’ta go around the block a couple of times before you finally figure out where we’re headed. But I promise ya, it’ll be well worth the effort when we finally get there. And if at any time you wanna take a shortcut then just let me know. Like I said, I’m salaried. So the quicker we get at the truth, the better for everybody. Especially you.”

Then I took my knife and went to work.

It didn’t take long. I’m pretty good at my work.


Last week I had intended to reconstruct all of my blogs. To finally finish them and put them into the final format and technical shape I had originally intended for them.

Unfortunately every single day something came up to consume most of my days (my cat was attacked by another animal – probably a coyote – and had to be taken to the vet, my central air unit failed and required repairs, other people asked me to do things for them, etc, etc.) and so I never really got to my blogs. By the weekend I was pretty much exhausted and didn’t lift a finger.

So, that being the case I’ve decided to reconstruct one blog per week in February and spend the whole week on that blog. And I’m going back in the meanwhile to posting other content as well.

It’ll be a slower process but probably a more thorough one as well. And in this way I might even learn a few things I wouldn’t have last week.

I just hope and pray all of this crazy crap and distractions are finally over.


The night is cold, I am alone
My aching bones have retold a tale from long, long ago

The night is black, I must seem bold
To have no other stand beside me in this darkness

But I am here because there is no one else, and
So it has ever been…

I am alone

So very, very alone

The night is wet, I never forget
Why I am still here by this grave, my breath frozen

In the still air

There is nothing else…

The night is old, and so am I
The wind is sharp, and the mist is deep

The rain heaps upon me all the past I meant
To bury under here, this stone of mine

This heart of stone, this home that never was
The seep of it from the soaking ground

Why do I yet live?

We both know it would have been me,
Should have been me

Had I just been there with you

The night it is, the morn it comes
But I am here because there is no one else

I am alone

So very, very alone

We both know, except
That I never shall

God, help me,

I never shall…


A man once thought to ask me
What I thought of that
And so I plainly told him,
Sans all the song and scat

Confused he looked at me askant
To ask me once again
“Do you wish to sly recant
What you just said my friend?”

“Now why would I,” said I to him
“Operate that way?”
“I say just what I mean old man
And mean it when I say”

He could not fathom what I meant
“Do you mean,” said he
“That’s your public argument
The one you do decree?!”

“I never speak,” said I to him
“Unless I’m honest first,
What a pointless waste of time
In lies to be rehearsed”

“I do not understand,” he said
“Why you go ‘gainst the grain,
You’re not afraid you might offend
Or find yourself disdained?”

I laughed out loud at such a thought
That I should surely care
That men who tremble and who lie
Would cower cause I dare

To speak what’s plain, or do what’s right
It’s all the same to me
“If it frightens you my friend
I need no company”

He shook his head, he bowed to think
He could not comprehend
That what all others thought of him
Was not the greatest end

“I cannot,” he did meekly moan
“Understand your point
“My world is made of what they say,
Without – I’m out of joint,”

“Your world,” I said in my response
What comforts I could make,
“Is very small and powerless
Yet still you bow and scrape”

“If free you wish, if man to be
You must start with yourself
No other false opinion
Can render any help”

An honest man, a fearless man
What other kind is there?
Every other type of man
Floats helpless in the air”

He looked at me, his eyes obscured
His habits all in force
I thought I saw a brief hope there
But tempered with remorse

“I cannot be that thing you say
Not honest, nor yet brave
I am not made that way, you see,
To fashion I am slave”

I understood, yes, many men
Thus find themselves construed –
To courage and to honesty
They will not dare allude

But I say this, to one and all,
Take it as you will
Fad and fashion unmake men
Compliance – it does kill

So if you must, like everyone
Be as all of them
The day will come despite that fact
When they will still condemn

So sembling live their paradise
From honesty aloof
Yet man it will not save you
“I’m telling you the Truth…”


When I was young I let all things settle as they would
If anybody wanted to I said then that they should
Then as I aged I noticed that a lot of things were wrong
I could not stomach anymore just to get along

Evil men, and wasted lives, practices corrupt
They were no longer over there, they overflowed my cup
I did not want, I did not care, I did not wish to take
All the wrong I saw around, nor all the ills it makes

So now I Rant, and sometimes Rave, and often I Revolt
I care no longer it offends, often that’s my hope
For people nod, and people smile, and meekly they agree
If everything is mildly spoke – all passion absentee

But if with fire, fume and smoke, and fury you explode
In righteous anger ‘gainst what’s wrong it will then expose
Their passive manner, pliant wills, and subservience
That Free Men should all best eschew in their establishment

So if by heat, so if by blood, so if by reason sharp
I offend, or I contend, I’ll surely hit my mark
Mild is well, and meek is good, when little is at stake
When all that’s right is up for grabs that is when I break

And run wild upon the field!


A sky like freshly melted lead and I am re-membered of that age so long ago when men stood atop the crops of living stone that grew like towers from the Earth, and carrion fowl

circled the sky searching for the dead.

The green of cyprus tall and dark, the hidden grasses bent beneath the menhired burden of a vanished race that raced the sun of every season to see who could catch the summer first.

Winters come, and yet is past, and still the grey and shadowed corners linger along the Elder Trails were men no longer read the signs

and the signs no longer signify.

A scarecrow raised like Rome’s own crucified to draw the ravens to his eye, so plucked away it cannot see any sight again but prophecy.

Still not enough is known to unknow anything. Worth unknowing.

Another bird, a hunting hawk, wending north of winter’s range will read no time until he marks the movement of a preying heart, and then picking from the scampering fields the blood and bones that once were knit, unmakes them for another day.

The bear scats, the fox turns, wolves howl, mountains rise, seas dry, roots rot, bones break, stones crack, echoes abound, vines creep, roads Wyrd, trails fade, streams cut, wounds bleed, words falter, men forget…

The signs are there, for all to read.

Most will not.


Most will not.

A Talk on Monsters


To me the monster is that Man
Whose spirit we cannot
Unwrap from evil in the womb
That ferments as it rots

To me the monster is that Beast
Whose tearing maw will bleed
With uncanny ichors hot
To digest what it breeds

To me the monster angelic
Who fell to Daemon’s pit
Broods on murderous revenge
With septic, cold intent

To me the monster prodigal
Like a Titan strides
To grind upon the red shorelines
Where terror does abide

Yet in me Monster curls and sleeps
Hibernating long
Dreaming when he will awake
To sing his monstrous song

So knowing this, and monsters well
I keep him drugged and bled
So he will never wake in me
To do what I most dread…


To me there are four types of monsters in this world: The Evil, Unrepentant Man, the Naturally Savage Beast, the Supernatural Daemon, and the Unrelenting Prodigy/Prodigal.

And then there is me…

Writing North East

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If you don’t come to one of Dr Alison Younger’s talks, you are truly missing out. On December 1st, at Café Culture in Newcastle, once again, we were all enlightened as Alison took centre stage in talking about the things that go bump in the night. In other words, monsters.

For century’s these creatures of the night have taken over the pages of our books, and scared us silly on our TV screens and according to Dr Alison Younger, they’re not leaving us any time soon. Because gothic sells, monsters sell.


But why do we enjoy them so much? The things that frighten us at night, it seems strange that we’ve formed an attachment to such creatures. But, when you look at the evidence, it’s overwhelming. In her talk last night, it was said that we need monsters to make us…

View original post 750 more words


a poem


I once was myself but I wasn’t
Cause I was who I wasn’t at all
The cold in me seemed to burn hotter
Than my soul could unfreeze in the thaw
I forgot that my Nature was something
Not contrived of some plastic and steel
But alive in a Forest of Ventures
Asleep, yet with dreams unfulfilled

A man is a wandering spirit
Unhomed in a world not his own
To go where he must or come near it
In the end he must go there alone
What is it man is long-seeking?
What does he hunt in the night?
When will he find that he’s keeping
It hidden within beyond sight?

I am not now who was never
Never will be who I’m not
Still in my hoards I do treasure
Those things that my heart does allot
There is something within me that festers
And something that won’t seem to die
The one thing is well-nigh invested
In the guile, and the wiles, and the lie

But the other thing still it does slumber
Awaiting that dawn and that day
When it wakes to the Spring of New Thunder
To wander and wonder away
I’ll be who I’m not yet tomorrow
Today I will start on my way
Will it end in bright glory, or sorrow?
Does it matter, I cannot yet say…


I just spent about 40 minutes after lunch observing the insect life in my front yard, near the north pine forest. It has been a long time since I observed insect life so I decided to go lay in the sun in my front yard and watch what was going on.

The sun was very warm and the sky very bright making it extremely easy to observe everything. I lay with my face on the grass to better observe the action nearby.

The first thing I saw was a large black ant carrying in its mandibles the head of another large ant. Just the head, and the head it carried was as large as its own head. The antenna were still attached too.

It was either a red ant’s head that had been been decapitated for awhile and had darkened, or the head of another black ant. Hard to tell without my magnifying glass. It carried the head laboriously and without pause making me consider three possibilities; either the head was toxic and sickening the porting ant, or the other ant and it had a long battle and it was exhausted and considered the head some kind of trophy, or perhaps the head was the head of an ant from the same colony that the first ant wanted to preserve or recover for some reason. The ant meandered slowly about in no discernible pattern that I could see and it seemed obsessed with the head. It would not relinquish it.

It was very atypical behavior for either a scouting ant of for one foraging for and collecting food. Finally I had to admit that the matter was probably inscrutable to me.

The next thing I saw was an old, large grasshopper eating. It did so merrily for about ten minutes and then it flew/leapt away. Then I saw a butterfly with a beautiful black and white wing pattern licking grass and other plants and gathering food into its mouth. I’m going to have to look up the exact species.

Then there was a large brown wolf spider, running about and on the hunt. It was ignoring smaller prey and having no luck with what it wanted to find and eventually slowed. I let it crawl across my shoulder and down my arm and onto my hand until I felt drowsy and decided I’d put him somewhere else while I napped. Didn’t wanna crush him or have him bite me if I rolled on him as I slept.

Before then though I saw a yellow-faced wasp (I think I know the species but I’m gonna look it up before commenting) who was making its way across the grass, sometimes in spurts, sometimes slowly, and sometimes stopping for two or three minute periods and just being absolutely still. It seemed undamaged but it never flew any higher than about two inches off the ground and never more than for more than a second or two at a time. So I’m figuring it must be near the end of its life-cycle.

It moved in a weird sort of semi-circular pattern across the ground, and every time it came within my shadow it paused as if going into a rest or sleep state. That seems odd to me as most any normal creature would be able to easily tell (from other cues and clues, smells, time of day, temperature, etc.) that it was not prematurely night. Or an eclipse. Again, making me think it was either sick, injured, or dying.

About that time the sun was so warm and I felt so good that I fell asleep and dreamed awhile. It is odd to fall asleep and dream immediately. And even though I couldn’t have been asleep for more than ten minutes I did just that.

The dream though was an almost exact reproduction of a dream I had about three nights ago. That dream was divided into three sections, each connected, and I understood the final two sections of the dream easily upon waking. However I never understood the first scene.

in this dream it was the same except that the guy I had seen in the original dream told me, “Now do you remember what the wasp was doing?” and I said, “yes.” Then he said, “now do you understand what I’m doing?” and I said, “yeah, now I get it perfectly!” And I did. Right as the dream went into the re-enactment of the second section my dog Sam licked me on the face and woke me but I still remembered the answer this dream had given me.

I thought to myself upon waking, “Now that’s a very odd looping pattern indeed. A reproduction of a previous dream in the future goes back and explains a prior dream after I observe something else happening in real life just a few minutes ago.”

And it was a very uncanny feeling. But a very pleasing and pleasant one. Then my wife drove by and told me she was leaving for her drive, and since it was getting cooler I went inside and made a cup o coffee and wrote this up.


If I had my druthers I would rather live in two different worlds from the world and time and place I now live. I love my home and my estate and my family and friends and my pets, and would readily keep all of those, but the age in which I live – I am not all that impressed by the contemporary and supposedly modern age of man. Nor am I much impressed by “modern man” in general. Though, to give him his credit, he has done some amazing things – in some respects at least.

If I had my way though I’d live in two very different other worlds, or perhaps even in both.

The First World would be an immensely primitive world (compared to today) which is largely unexplored and uninhabited. I would travel everywhere by foot, horse, or wooden sailing ship. I would live in the wild frontier. I would build my own shelters everywhere I went, and small cabins anywhere I wanted to locate for a while. I would explore forests, and open plains, and mountains, and oceans and seas. Perhaps even a few deserts.

I would carry a simple and well-made sword, a spear, a bow, and a long-knife everywhere I went. Perhaps a hatchet as well. I would have forged or made these weapons myself, with great and careful craft. They would be sharp, strong, and reliable. Otherwise my possessions would be what I could carry and my clothing would be hard and durable and made for tough use and wear. I would design and build and construct things using my own two hands. Everything I made would be unique. Including the flute I made to play music and write songs as I went.

I would grow or gather my own food, drink from clear streams, fish high rivers, and swim in fresh lakes. I would go everywhere with my dog who, just like my current dog, would be a huge mastiff and a wonderful companion. Animals would be my friends and we would understand one another. I would be at peace with everything that lived. I would sketch what I saw, write what I experienced, but only for myself, or perhaps as a record for someone to eventually find and make use of. I would spend time every day with God, observing what he showed me, and I would wander the wide world uninhabited and unrestricted by anything or anyone. My money would be my own breath and blood.

I would explore both night and day, taking as much pleasure in roaming some mountain in the moonlight as I did crawling over ancient ruins at noon. Occasionally I would run across other men and women like myself, explorers and frontiersmen, people who lived in the wild. Because I would speak and write multiple languages it would be easy to communicate with them, and trade with them. We would spend a few days or maybe weeks in each others company, becoming lifelong friends. We would not have to see each other often, or speak much in the presence of the other. We would just know and understand. We would however drink, and laugh, and do crazily dangerous and enjoyable things as we wandered for a time the world together.

I would live my life deep in the frontiers; far from man, and the ways of man. When I did finally feel the desire to return to civilization I would visit some great city, like ancient Alexandria, reading in the Library, researching the Museum and conversing with the inventors and scientists and craftsmen, examining the great Wonders, like the lighthouse, and burning deep into my memory all I saw and did. And when I had once again had enough of that I would return to the forest and the fields and the lands that had no road and no well-worn path and I would disappear again.

When I finally married and had children I would be a grizzled old man, and yet I would on occasion still wander when I desired to and I would be very tough and very wise by then. And if my children wanted to explore and roam with me then I would take them from time to time, showing them how to survive and live off the land and love nature and the solitude.

That would be a happy world, a world of blood and bone and strength, a world that would satisfy my body and my soul.

The Second “World” would be immensely advanced, scientifically and technologically. I would explore countless other worlds through time and space. I would have a craft, one that I had designed and built for myself that could easily and rapidly traverse any distance or any time, and probably many different dimensions. My craft would be able to construct and create anything I needed whenever and wherever I went, including my shelter, food, and drink.

My clothing and body would be filled with immensely powerful apparatus, highly miniaturized, even down to the atomic level, which would give me immense sensory capabilities and physical and mental enhancements. I would have already long ago genetically modified myself, through recombination, to further enhance my own capabilities and I would turn those capabilities to exploration, invention, innovation, and entrepreneurship.

I would have a Suit; one I had designed myself, which would be an astronomical advance over my current Aisthpleis Suit. It would be my clothing, my protection, my extra-sensing device, my computer, my communications array, and an extension of my own senses and mind. It might even possess its own sentience.

I would be immensely wealthy (a trillionaire many times over by today’s standards) from my own inventions, creations, and discoveries and would use my profits to assure everyone I knew was taken care of, as well as to further capitalize and fund my numerous enterprises, expeditions, ventures, and adventures. Money itself would mean nothing to me but I would use it carefully and wisely to fund every good and noble cause I could and I would use it to explore every place and every world I could possibly discover and reach.

I would make numerous friends among other species and races and would enjoy discovering things about them and their world(s). In the periods of travel time in my craft I would talk often with God and he would advise me of what I should see and where I should go and why. I would also, in my travel time, conduct numerous scientific experiments, to placate my curiosity about how things work and to come to a better understanding of the nature of matter, energy, and life.

I would build an entirely unique observatory, probably on some uninhabited and desolate planetoid that would allow me to watch other times, different places and points in space, peer upon other dimensions, and make discoveries and observations no one else ever has before.

I would scour the universe for new God Technology and I would seek to create some of my own. I would invent new things and reinvent/innovate upon old things that would be of immense benefit to mankind.

I would find ways to extend not only my own life, but to greatly augment and amplify both my own health and well-being, and that of others. I would work cooperatively and with good friends on some great ventures and enterprises, but on most things I would work alone.

I would still travel with my dog, of course, (maybe with a few other animals as well), but he would be greatly enhanced and modified. He would be immensely intelligent, as intelligent as any person alive now, and physically he would be awesomely strong, capable, and healthy. I would extend his life too.

When I finally married and had children I would bring them with me on my travels and expeditions anytime they wished, showing them what I had discovered. I would train them in whatever they wished to learn. I would keep careful and detailed records of all I saw and did and discovered so that others could build upon my work in the future to do even greater things.

That would be a fascinating world, a world of thoughts and ideas and discoveries, a world that would satisfy my mind and my spirit.

I can live in the world I currently live in. On my lands I live a physically and psychologically pleasing life. In my work I live a mentally and spiritually pleasing life.

But I can imagine far better. And desire far better.


I don’t know if you guys saw what Sam and I saw last night, but it was awfully beautiful. Sam and I went out after nightfall last night and the full moon was rising in the nor’east.

But because it was rising on the horizon through a light cloud cover and it was still picking up a faint trace of sunlight from the already but only recently set sun the light was very ethereal and diffused, creating a very, very dark orange coloring. It was a late harvest moon.

It looked almost like a blood moon, just a shade lighter. The first thing I thought of was, “this is a wolf moon!”

Most impressive.

Sam and I both looked at it and then I threw back my head and howled as loud as I could, and then Sam howled. It was immensely enjoyable, and invigorating. And somewhere a deer trembled and a rabbit ran.


The deaths I knew when I was young
They’ve lingered on, each one resung
In my blood they tarry near, and
In my dreams I often hear
The song of them, the endless song of them


The deaths I knew not how to stop
Not one I saved, a useless crop
That grows in me to bloom again, and
In my soul I often see
The dawn upon that seed, the endless fields of them

The deaths I hated more than Death
I wished to kill, and yet instead
They linger in me in the dark, and
Silent still they still remark
That I was not among the endless count of them

Time passes on and I survive
Some empty chamber deep inside
Still filled with ghosts
That never died

Would that they had never died

Would that they did still abide

In better heart than mine…


Last night my wife asked me if I thought we’d be “together forever?” (It’s been twenty years, doesn’t that qualify?)

So I wrote her a poem in response:



West of the Sunset, East of the Dawn
The place I first found you, where you belong
Darker than nightfall, brighter than day
Lost in between them, here I will stay

Seven Great Cities all on a hill
Have fallen to nothing yet I’m with you still
Forests have vanished, rivers are dry
I haven’t wandered; I’m still by your side

The poets, the playwrights, the minstrels are gone
Their verses as empty and dead as their songs
I’m going nowhere without you along
West of the Sunset, East of the Dawn

The moon in her orbit, the stars in their paths
Ten thousand summers and winters will pass
Old men will wonder, and children know not
Whatever’s remembered whenever forgot

The Earth shall grow ancient, the mountains collapse
Of us shall be always without a relapse
Forgotten in legend but still living on
West of the Sunset, East of the Dawn

One day a sailor shall glide past this world
An explorer by mishap will see all unfurled
Frontiersmen will cross into lands still unknown
There they will find us, for we never roamed

West of the Sunset, East of the Dawn



I don’t have any idols. Never have, and never will, either real or fictional. I have people I admire, and would like to emulate in some way or another (not emulate in other ways) but not idols. Certainly not like modern people seem to think of idols. In the sense that I’d like to be someone else or that I would ever fawn over anyone else. I never would. I have only ever wanted to be me. And I would never fawn over me, much less any other man. To me that is both low, and ignorant.

And I don’t think of the people I admire and would like to emulate in some way as my rivals, but rather as exemplars of some particular capability or trait. And likely and potential friends with whom I would work well together or some important project or endeavor. To me to instinctively think of other great men as my natural and necessary rivals is both low and arrogant. So in those senses I totally disagree with this sentiment.

However I think that the underlying implication is that you want to work your way up to being a Peer and an Equal (in the sense of your on capabilities) with other great men and women, rather than forever remain a subordinate or inferior (in action and ability). And in that respect I agree with the sentiment expressed below.

I have always believed in the Peerage (and Friendship) of Great Equals. I think that is what this is really trying to convey. Unfortunately modern people are so filled with the petty pop culture modern bullshit of fawning over and being obsequious towards others, sometimes of actually wanting to be and of idolizing others (rather than their abilities and capabilities), or of being jealous of others (a very petty and puny vice indeed), and just instinctively think of other Great Men and Women as natural rivals rather than what they truly are – potential Peers and Friends and as Great Men and Women with whom you could work to achieve even more together than you could separately.

So in that respect the only way far too many modern people seem to reflexively understand other Great Men and Women is as either idols and/or rivals. And thinking of other men as idols is just plain juvenile, whereas thinking of other men as natural and unavoidable rivals is not necessarily Wise at all. These habits and ideals seem more engrained by uncritical and unexamined instinct than by malicious intent. Still, I think them small and counter-productive for the most part.

But I don’t think of other men in that way at all. First of all I think of all men as my equals, neither inferior nor superior. And secondly I think of all men as being my potential peers if they so wish.

I think of it as the Peerage of Great Equals.

And that’s exactly what I mean to be, the Peer and Equal of Other Great Men.

But I will never idolize them, anymore than I wish to be idolized, nor are other men my instinctive rivals. Just as likely they are my as yet unrealized friends and peers.



My hometown city. And there is excellent reason to be extremely proud of it. It is a superb place for Business, Art, Music, and Beauty.

It is an wonderful thing to live in the South.

And as a friend said this is but the tip of the iceberg…

Edwin McCain shows off his favorite places in Greenville


As I said in my previous post I have recently developed a new Universal Cure Plan and Protocol (a Cure Plan Template) that I have been using to treat my swollen neck and shoulder (trapezius superior). If you would like to see this Template then go here – CURE PLAN TEMPLATE

I began changing my overall health practices about two months ago after a training injury, but in the past month (today being the 20th of August, 2014) I began seriously working on a cure to this chronic swelling problem of my neck and shoulder. So I combined all of my prior treatment and cure programs for similar situations into a single program which I then used to devise my Universal Cure Plan and Protocol. Once I had that Template developed I wrote up my Cure Plan and Protocol for my neck swelling. I began this particular Cure Plan on the 1st of August, 2014.

I’ve been to more than one doctor on the matter of my swollen neck and shoulder and they cannot discover the ultimate source of the problem. I’ve inquired about several possibilities but both their tests and diagnoses have failed to prove conclusive or effective.

Finally I asked about the possibility of arthritis (I have suffered several injuries over time such as a broken collar bone, broken rib, broken elbow, broken back, and a shattered knee to name some of my injuries) causing the swelling. My assumption is that my skeletal injuries have provoked arthritis. I was assured by several doctors that arthritis could not cause such swelling but after doing my own research on the Harvard medical site I discovered that not only can arthritis trigger lymph node swelling but it is an acknowledged symptom.

My personal diagnosis now therefore is that arthritis is the most likely cause of this swelling as well as my recent ankle injury.

Nevertheless I am now 20 days into my Cure Plan. It had been very effective so far with most pain being reduced to nothing and my shoulder swelling being reduced so dramatically that it may not take the anticipated period to actually cure me. My original plan has been for a 90 Day Cure Period. I suspect now that I can achieve an effect cure within 30 days (10 days from now) and a total cure within perhaps 45 days.

Therefore as a necessary and reluctant nod to modern legal idiocy I make the following public declaration: I am not a doctor and this cure plan is not to be considered medical advice for anyone on my part. It is merely an example of how I constructed my own cure plan and the details thereof. You want a Cure Plan for whatever problem you face then do your own research, conduct your own experiments and devise a Cure Plan that works for you. As a matter of fact that is what you should do with everything in life rather than just blindly accepting the recommendations of others no matter who they are what supposed level of expertise they allegedly possess.

God curse the day any idiot uncritically and blindly takes my advice as unquestioned expertise on any matter whatsoever even if I am the universally acknowledged expert. Being skeptical and proving matters for yourself is your job, it is everyone’s job, not just mine.

That being accurately and truthfully said here are the details of my Cure Plan:


Disease or Injury: Generalized Neck Swelling (left side), Shoulder, Neck, and Back Pain

Date Treatment Begins: August 1, 2014

Date Cure (to be) Achieved: October 31, 2014

Cure Time Frame and Plan: 92 Days
First Stage: August 1-31, no Work
Second Stage: September 1-30, light Work (4 hours per day)
Third Stage: October 1-31, normal Work (6-8 hours per day) plus
Outdoor Work

Symptoms and Signs: Swollen lymph node, muscular swelling around trapezius and neck, pain under left shoulder blade, pain while sitting and typing

Countersigns: general excellent health otherwise

Possible Diagnoses: Swollen lymph nodes due to overwork, work (typing and posture injuries), exhaustion, dehydration, possible rupture to disc due to over training and swelling, bad reaction to over-training or injury, Sitting Disease, or possibly even cancer – most likely diagnosis: Arthritis.

Cure Chemical and Food and Nutrient Components and Protocol: Metaergogenics/Nutrients/Supplements 3 times per day in First Stage, 2 times per day Second Stage, and 1 time per day Third Stage, 3 Day Fast First Stage, 7 Day Fast Second Stage, 1 Day per week Third Stage, and 1 time per month after cured, honey, apple cider vinegar, probiotics, calcium/magnesium/zinc, echinacea, goldenseal, turmeric, glucosamine, valerian root, St. John’s Wort, melatonin, cod liver oil, olive oil, lemon juice, sea salt, aloe vera, cannabis oil (Hemp Seed oil actually), metaergogenics, metamedicinals

Cure Drink Components and Protocol: water only in first stage, water plus green tea and coffee and juice next two stages

Cure Physical Components and Protocol: Breathing Exercises 15 minutes per day, targeted stretching exercises, Hiking, Running, P90X, Warmann Training, Yoga, Tai Chi, Soccer, general rest, recovery naps, Inversion 15 minutes per day, Work outdoors/clear land/do maintenance, Warm Epsom Salt Baths, hot/cold applications, dry brushing, massage, Topical (see lotion) good posture, healthy sex, Sleep 8-12 hours daily until cured then 7-8 hours per day

Cure Psychological Components and Protocol: listening to Art and other Music, fun, relaxation, recreation, reading, travel, socializing, gaming, spending time outdoors, exploring, Vadding

Cure Spiritual Components and Protocol: Targeted prayer and meditation, scripture reading, healing meditation, optimism, laughter and comedies, social activities, ask for assistance when needed, Gratitude, Ambition, Faith in God and Cure

Test Protocol

Dated Measurements: once per week on Saturdays First Stage, once every two weeks on Saturdays second and third stage, no touch and limited examinations/observations otherwise once per week on Fridays, weigh self once per week every Sunday, Outline and Graph Affected Area for accuracy

Null or Limited Components: no sodas or processed sugars, limited processed or junk food, dehydration, exhaustion, no internet or social media or television except on weekends during Stage One, limited internet and no television on weekdays during Stages Two and Three

Testing Time Frame: 92 Days

Long Term Cure Changes: (see Signs of a Cure), limit Sitting Work to 30 to 45 minute intervals (6 to 8 times per day) followed by half hour other activities, better seating and posture while working, Fartlek style/staggered Daily Exercises and Physical Training, Hike/Walk 4 to 6 miles per day 6 days per week, Do Only One Thing at a Time, more rest, relaxation, and recreation, daily Inversion 15 minutes per day, better hydration, better nutrition, Once or more per month Fast (24 hours), Breathing Exercises 15 minutes per day, stress relief daily, prayer and meditation daily, 1 week Vacation every 3 months, annual check-ups and self-examinations, Sleep 7-8 hours per day (instead of 3 to 4 hours daily).


After getting all of my morning work done, having a good work-out, taking a one mile run, drinking a lot of water, eating a Taste-Buddy (a new sandwich my daughter invented), taking my supplements, having a hot and then cold shower… I… FEEL… LIKE… FREAKING… HERCULES!!!

No, seriously, I feel like Hercules!


“‘I once met a traveler alone in the desert
Whose steps were off by a mere millimetre
So he wandered about in a circle forever’
Discovering at last that he
Could take no measure, and no accounting
Of pleasure as other men know
His circle collapsed without an orbit to pass
Beyond the desert’s blind perch
So that I never met him again,
Search though I might.”

When men climb alone into the bed of night
Candlelight and moon their only song
A breeze sweeping through their minds
While God watches o’er them
Whispering heaven’s dream
To calm them from the day of hell,
These men sleep in an embrace I cannot know,
Being bound to the torture of an everlasting truth,
I know only the blackness of the twisted heart
I never sleep for fear of this
Awful Art, and while my God
Speaks paradise to other men, to me he
Commands eternal guard, I must not let
The Innocent stalked by the chambered ghosts
Of dread lie victim in the bloodied, dirty streets
At cost of my watching soul, and though
Drained of strength, and light, and life
What other action can I take?
Except to swell my breast
With hope I do not possess
To ward what I cannot ward
To defend both day and night
My fellow man, to sleep not, to
Rest not, to always read the malign
Intent of impatient foes, the only light I see
The light of a beauty I cannot shield
Except perhaps to prevent it from being drown
In a darkness too deep for me
To illuminate, and I wonder in
The Widest night when I keep watch alone,
When even God has retired to the
Bed of Children’s dreams,
If other men like I study the raging dark
And wish, or pray, that they too
Might sleep wrapt in God’s Almighty
Instead of perching deserted here
Counting souls they cannot save.



So this morning I wake up and my Viking Cat Alex is on the bed asleep at my feet. Bit me too, the little bugger, when I roused him with my feet, but not enough to draw blood. I can also hear my Great Dane Sam asleep at the foot of the bed on the floor.

Now ordinarily Sam likes to get up in the bed with me and lay beside me right before I go to sleep and right after I wake up. So I call him up into the bed and up he comes and lies down to my left side. Over comes Alex and they begin jockeying for position to see who gets to be closest to me and petted the most this morning.

Now ordinarily, if no one is looking, I often find them curled up together on the back deck, either sitting watching the woods, or sleeping together peacefully. But if I’m around they always start pushing each other around or trying to get between the other one and me.

In other words they scrap over me like a coupla jealous chicks, especially when nobody else is in the house and I’m the only one here, Sam growling or snapping at Alex and Alex taking the occasional swipe at Sam’s snout and meowing and griping and carrying on the whole time.

To solve the problem I had to let Sam lay beside me so that he could put his head on my stomach while Alex lay on my chest like he was a kitten. They’re both very big critters though (for their various species) so it wasn’t an easy maneuver.

Then both of them took to snoozing while laying on me but afraid that I’d wake up to find them fighting and me maybe losing an eye or a testicle I couldn’t go back to sleep. So after fifteen minutes of that crap I just made us all get up and go get breakfast.

That little snooze-fest just wasn’t worth all the possible injury combinations. It was kinda like sleeping with a coupla live grenades on my chest.