Wednesday, July 30, 2014

The Humidity of Mortality on Pinball Planet

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

I've just learned that on the day of my accident, one of the great men (Stephen Gaskin) of the last century passed away. Here was a true practitioner of Broad Daylight Awareness; a true teacher and living example for many other souls. He was humble, sharp and no nonsense. He might not have been everyone's cup of tea but he meant a great deal to me and the hundreds of souls that lived around him and the thousands and thousands that came and went. I'll not seek to provide a synopsis for Mr. Monday Night Class. You can read up on him. Like Terrance McKenna, Buckminster Fuller and a handful of others, he left this world a better place than he found it. It's possible that his passing didn't even make it into the Crass Media. He wasn't one of theirs.

The other reader who saw the strange and silent black, bat-like creature glide across their sight-line, close in time to when it happened to me, also suffered a fall and got seriously banged up. That's pretty strange.

Yesterday I was toodling around pretty good; went into town and also did some terrain training as well. I'm guessing there was about 10K accomplished yesterday. Today I found that they had cut back on my medication yet again. This happens every few days and so I was barely able to make it to breakfast and back. Dr. Napoleon (so called because of his obvious Napoleonic Complex) will be coming around any minute so I can let him hear about it. If they had doctors in The Stasi, he would have been the Chef Artz. Most everyone else around here has a good attitude and are willing and helpful across the board. However, it is one of those secret laws of existence that in any operation there has to be at least one major dick, so demonstrating for whatever the purpose of that would be.

I have zeroed in in a city not far from here where there are many rentals and surprisingly inexpensive as well. I'm planning on heading there next week, staying in a pension and not leaving before I find something. As per another law of nature, I walked into town yesterday with this fellow who looks like a gym rat but is a former (and possibly future) heroin user. He says he much prefers crystal meth. He admits that this is stupid so... I'm supposing he's not entirely dim. He tells me that every 3rd person, in this city I am looking to live in the outskirts of, is a heroin addict. Someone close to me told me it is the happening zone of this country right now for young people, the arts and music (which are the same sort of) and I was planning on migrating there because there would be all kinds of clubs to play in, as well as get this language down by attending an immersion course (or two). “Rawhide!!!”

I am hoping (and have reason to believe) that certain comestibles are going to precipitate out of the ethers any day and I expect my mood to reflect that process, once said process reaches the manifestation end of it. Presently it's somewhere in the middle two states of the creative and formative planes; most likely in the formative.

I heard an ominous statement by Putin yesterday. He was talking about the impact of sanctions and somehow the cost was around 20 billion (nothing to sneeze at) and he said something like, “None of this is important next to the reality that war is coming to Europe.” Do I really want to stay here? I keep juggling with the idea of just giving away my possessions and shipping what I can't let go of to Hawaii and taking my chances. Somehow it feels like if I am in the jungle somewhere, it is going to take awhile for the global horse manure to make its way to me. I got a direct statement from the invisible that there were no plans in operation to destroy the islands. That still leaves the door open for all kinds of less than pleasant actions short of that, including haole shish kabob. The pretender in chief has connections to the islands. Damn... nothing is harder these days than weighing all the pros and cons of all the locations on this Pinball Planet. Sure... I'd love to go to the Maldives but I don't have a suitcase full of cash. Indonesia has all kind of wonderful features with a big red flag that says 'Fundie Muslim Alert' on it. I've been around the globe in my head and landed nowhere. That means something, should you be bright enough to tumble to the implications. I'm not. It's hard to focus on what requires a very narrow window of intensity to give up its secrets, when they are partying day and night at Dumb Ass Junction across the way. Even if that is actually thousands of miles... sound travels.

Living in The Age of Official Documents is a bit of a drag. You can't go anywhere without conditions. You might go to where you are a citizen, if it weren't a police state. A part of me knows that I could go any number of places and just stay off the radar and remain indefinitely.

Next week, as I understand it, I get dropped off at the train station with my two bags that I can't possibly juggle and work the crutches too. This will require some amount of the creative forward thinking strategy mind that I have a relationship with and... I do like puzzles. Of course... If Elvis actually makes it here, I should be more than capable of morphing into one of those four armed devas or deities and that's the end of it.

I'm starting to understand some things about pain. I realize that, in many ways, I have been without the sort of pain that most people carry with them wherever they go. I cut most things loose a long time ago so they can't sink their daggers into my heart, mind or ass like they do with most people. I'm not inflamed with desire for this or that worthless object or pursuit; pretty much if I have a small space to operate in and enough food to sustain me, I'm good to go and no complaints. When you find something you love doing... and I have several, you don't have the time or energy (usually) for mind numbing and heart stopping dumb shit. You just want to do these things all the time. You wish there were more time to do more of them. And... should you have even a small measure of cosmic Love... what else of everything else matters a damn? Given that everything other than Love damns you anyway, at least to chasing the uncatchable tail (to catch the uncatchable taillllllll! cue The Impossible Dream), or worse, someone elses and you never saw the rental agreement prior too. More fool you.

And proving that I am no less a dumbass and projectionist than any other fool; the doctor just came by. He was smiling and in a good mood. I got on him about cutting the medication back. He didn't say anything. He just keep radiating this ironical smile. Then he asks me where I am going. I tell him and he says, give the address to the nurse. I don't see how that can mean anything else but that they have arranged a ride back for me and will not be dropping me at the train station. They did drive me down here and I did put in a certain amount of lobbying efforts prior too, as well as pleading diminished capacity and I don't think they want me falling down in the train station, should I get in a Chaplinesque fugue state. He shook my hand several times. Maybe it's all because it is our last official meeting.

If one is the sort that takes broad sketches as any kind of any evidence of something, it seems everything is working itself out in a timely manner and not in any sense beforehand. As most of you know, most of us have a good backhand but not much of a beforehand; just one of the realities of life, supposing life has any realities and is not just shapes in a perpetual mist of multi-colored fog.

I was playing the dead man's game today and possibly I'll get a pass on the sexism angle with this one. What it is is... when I look at everyone as one of the condemned. It's only a matter of time. We're all here for some reason, a reason never precisely established but surely for a reason, lest the whole thing be pointless and that's possible too, if you're one of those people that spent too much time reading contemporary western philosophers, or those pretending to be the same.

Why would Putin say that? Why would he say that war is coming to Europe? Are we/is he, talking about the whole of Europe or just those disposable buffer states where the actual body count gets manifested? I'm guessing I can walk by then and hopefully run as well (grin).

There are far too many of us here, given the choices made in terms of reasons for being here. Why are we here and who is it that is here? These are important questions but they don't get asked often enough nor are they compelling enough for the vast majority of life forms in this time. They are critically important to me but I tend to focus on things that fall out of the regular fields of interest for the junkies of routine. I don't care one way or the other about all the subjects that raise their lethal fevers in the minds of mortals. It's the heat generated from these fevers that creates the multi-colored fog I was talking about earlier; a result of the condition I am prone to naming as The Humidity of Mortality. There's all kinds of precipitation that goes on there too and only a very few of us are crystallizing and distilling in anything remotely identifiable as a Hermetic manner. I'm guessing it's always like this. If ageless wisdom is so named because it is always the same then I suppose the departures from and pathologies generated from that departure must also be the same.


End Transmission.......


Visible's Self-Improvement Guide,
Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World

- 'An Exploration Toward the Ineffable'

Visible's 'Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World'


...is now available to buy at Amazon.




Paperback: $25.00
Buy Visible's 'Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World' from Amazon
Kindle Edition: $9.99
Buy Visible's 'Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World', Kindle Edition from Amazon

More of Visible's books and songs are available through his Store.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Breakfast with Eli Wallach and John Malkovich or Maybe Not.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

Most mornings I have breakfast with Eli Wallach. It's not the Eli of “The Good the Bad and the Ugly” but rather the Eli of “The Holiday” with Jude Law, Cameron Diaz and assorted. Of course, it might not be Eli Wallach, cause I heard he was dead but it sure looks like him. When I catch him looking at me, I squint at him like Clint, hoping to jar his memory but he doesn't say anything that I remember from the films. I don't smile at him like Jack Black or Kate Winslett because by that time his memory and his balance were not what they used to be. I try that old high school trick where you cough and say “bullshit” at the same time, only I cough and say, “Eli” but it hasn't worked so far.

I've learned some things here that I didn't know before. One of them is that constant pain will make you very tired. Another thing is that this is not a place where old film stars go to die, or fade away, as the case may be. Most of these people do not look like former film stars. I did see John Malkovich but he didn't react when I called him by name. Most of the people here look like what life wrote on their faces since the time when they were young and eager sprouts, with a certain amount of sexual currency to spend and a varying time span, limited window of opportunity to do it in. That window, from what I can see, closed a long time ago and someone painted it shut afterwards. God! These people eat a lot of strange mystery meats. I don't know what parts of the animal these meats come from but I don't want to go there. They make sausages from blood, brains and effluvia, with a certain amount of salt and other spices. Everyone eats some or a lot. I think I am the only vegetarian here.

There's been no postings of late since I am taking a visit from a Danish reader named Tom. We've been sitting around and talking about the ineffable for hours each day and noting that no one else seems to be so employed. It looks like the whole visible world is indifferent to the invisible world, or else completely unconscious of it. Many people will tell you if you can't see it, it's not there. I tend to believe if they can't see it, they are not there. I'm guessing that makes sense where it applies.

The entire state of Israel is writhing in paroxysms of orgasm, over the vile and unnecessary deaths of all those Palestinian women and children, sliced and diced by the state of the art war machine for Crime Syndicate Banker Nation. I need to mention a few things about all of that. I have probably said these things before but they bear repeating at this time. A reader recently pointed out that the conflict is in operation because Israel wants to steal the gas that has been discovered in Gaza. Sure, that could be a motivator. Whenever there is the opportunity for the snarling bully of the Middle East to steal anything from anyone, be it property, organs or one's life, they will do it because it is their nature, just like it is the scorpions nature to sting you for no reason, or even itself to death.

The real and enduring reason that Israel wants to destroy Palestine and the Palestinians is because they have a genetic DNA connection to that land and the AshkeNAZI invaders have none; zero. This is what that disappearing map of Palestine is all about.

Disappearing Palestine
Disappearing Palestine

This is why they change the names of every Palestinian town and work to erase the names of every landmark, also erasing the landmark itself when it is possible. They want the world to believe that they are The Palestinians. They are not. Their thirst for world conquest is so great that they think nothing of spending many, many years taking over the infrastructure of strategic nations in order to turn the world into a massive concentration camp and to kill millions, AS THEY DID in Russia and The Ukraine and all kinds of other places. Through the profits of usury and ghost money they have bought up all of the media and information centers, publishing firms, everything critical in order to control and mold world opinion. They call themselves The Chosen People and they are. They are the Chosen People of Satan whom they worship. Shit and Fan are on their way for a visit with them at some point and the gates of Hell yawn and salivate at the thought of their entrance. Everything is under control.

The most difficult of things to see is the manner in which the present revolutionary transformations are impacting on those who have spread such terror and torment on this Earth for such a length of time. It all seems to be going their way, as everything gets worse for us and better for them. They commit outrage after outrage with seeming impunity but... never forget, evil destroys itself. This is a cosmic law and they are led by Byzantine roads to inescapable perdition. I cannot see the means and method of it but I know it is a certainty.

It is also one of the most difficult states to occupy, where one sees such horrible and nightmare conditions, created by the few, at the expense of the many and to have to feel all of the futility and impotence of one's state, where it appears there is so little any of us can do to counteract any of it. It is an ancient adage that has no doubt been proven true more times than anyone can remember; if you want to change the world, change yourself. It is the only condition we have any power over and it should be our constant focus as often as we can call it to mind. The ONLY way to change another is by example. It is the power of inspiration that rises in the hearts of those who witness something remarkable in the actions of another that is responsible for so much that is good and transformative in this world. We must believe it is true and we must act with certitude regarding it. There is little else available to us.

I have spent many hours these last days, talking about these things with another. It is such a reassuring thing to see what can be generated between resonant and sympathetic hearts directed to a common end. The darkness is beginning to break and soon light will stream into this world through a thousand cracks. We have but to be patient and constant.

I will make this shorter than usual as I am quite tired and don't want to find myself simply tossing words upon the page to meet some standard of usual length. My heart goes out to all of you in your different states of personal distress, some of which is operational in your lives and some of which is only what is being seen across the distance. Something tells me we are not nearly so far away as we think we are. Godspeed to your every finer aspiration.


End Transmission.......


Visible and The Critical List: Jews from Outer Space by Les Visible and The Critical List♫ Jews From Outer Space ♫
'Jews From Outer Space' is track no. 5 of 9 on Visible and The Critical List's 1993 album
'Jews from Outer Space'

About this song (pops up)

Jews from Outer Space by Les Visible and The Critical List


Visible's Self-Improvement Guide,
Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World

- 'An Exploration Toward the Ineffable'

Visible's 'Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World'


...is now available to buy at Amazon.




Paperback: $25.00
Buy Visible's 'Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World' from Amazon
Kindle Edition: $9.99
Buy Visible's 'Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World', Kindle Edition from Amazon

More of Visible's books and songs are available through his Store.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Dancing to that Strange Accordion File Music in the Still of the Night.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

It was in the morning, when I usually rise, that I went down the ladder in the loft. The odd thing is that I have no memory of slipping and a very vague tendril of recollection about hitting. That something pushed me, or compromised my grip or foot placement I am pretty certain of. Why? That will get filed in the rather large accordion file where all such similar unanswered queries reside. Late at night, in a bellows like fashion, this file emits strange musics that cause invisible entities to dance and raise the hackles and hairs of household pets.

It cannot be a coincidence that a scarce two days earlier, after being told by the man whose property I was on that he would be unable to continue working with me for what sounded like at least a month and which put me, by my calculations in an unwinnable race with the elements, I found myself in an impassioned exchange with the ineffable saying, basically, “get me out of here!” Next thing you know, wham shazam!!!

There's a whole lot of upside to what has happened here. I would have had to be at this thing until at least Spring or later of next year. Now, wherever I land, I can go right to my projects, which are what I'm about, while I'm here, anyway. It's too bad that the US is more or less out of bounds for me. That isn't a projection on my part, it's been a consistent feature of my residence there. It might have changed, I don't know but... the sheer spectacle of all the things taking place there is something to behold when in comparison with most of the parts of Europe I have seen. They say “things are bad all over” but they are most certainly worse in some places than in others.

For all the valuable information that I receive in my day to day, it seems I also get a lot of shuck and jive as well, leading me by false trails to where I have to double back at some point. Usually this kind of thing means one should just stay put and dwell at the center of their being but... when one is obliged to go into motion regardless then that raises the interesting dilemma, “should I go or should I stay?” Yet... one has to go. I've scanned the world in my mind numerous times in Visible's version of 'remote viewing'. It's a perplexing muddle of uncertain potentials and camouflaged dangers.

In the meantime, all the cruel and otherwise transformative possibilities of the world, shadow box on the sidelines. The wind, forever unseen except in its effects, shakes the fixtures and makes the shadows dance. Are they dancing? Are the fighting? Are they simply drunk and trying to catch the tempo of Nero's fiddle? For years now, I have read the analysis of trend watchers and economists; precious metals experts, environmentalists and all those theoreticians who operate out of some area of physics or metaphysics and who give us their take on what's going to go down. None of it ever goes down The month goes by and they are right at it again, prognosticating and making beans to buttons predictions about what you had better have in your pocket when the shit hits the fan.

The Earth murmurs, constantly sending up ground level commentaries on it's state of mind; melting highways in national parks, drying up the subterranean water tables, turning woodlands and brush-lands into matchbox tinder. Humanity has done its share. One of civilizations (if you can call it that) main problems is not knowing what to do with its garbage and in many cases not caring either. Most of the garbage generated is the result of the endless search for greater convenience.

Twenty years ago you didn't see people walking around everywhere with a cellphone glued into their ear and when that's not the case they're endlessly thumbfucking it. Twenty years ago hardly anyone had a computer and it was all Windows 3.1. So much of what predominates today wasn't even around, except for the tedious certainty of wars and oppression, stationary in some cases and endlessly migrating in others.

The vice of governmental and corporate tyranny keeps tightening. Everything else is more of what it was than it was and strange statistics give rise to the usual curiosities about why things are the way they are. In this world some are more genetically attracted to materialism than others. Their levels of involvement vary, whether the greater drive is participation or control.

I can see what looks like it is going to happen but it doesn't happen. It seems illogical and contrary to the laws of the cosmos that it will not happen. Sooner or later it has to happen, or does it? I consider myself very lucky in the sense that I don't spend a lot of time thinking about it. For some reason I don't feel like it applies to me. I've no investment in it. I'm just moving between the poles of two unknowns which may just be the same unknown accessed through a different portal.

Being in a hospital is an interesting experience. People injure themselves in all kinds of ways and they also come up against the certain end that is the result of genetics and experience collaborating on outcome. Watching the workers here and the dynamics of the pecking order is another fascinating industry for a mind that has a whole lot of time on its hands. People get born and die here. Sometimes they do both of these things in the same place.

It seems to me we are all waiting on something. We don't know what that is but it sits in the middle of the room, like some kind of large intrusive shape. You can't look directly at it, if you do it disappears. You can only study it peripherally. It seems to whimper and cry out on occasion, like it is in pain or in the midst of a difficult transition that won't be hurried, nor is it inclined to reveal anything about itself. That could well be because it doesn't know anything either. It's just hurting and it doesn't know why and it is changing and it doesn't know why and it doesn't know what it's changing into either.

Tomorrow I head off for another part of the planet (not that far away) where I've never been before. It's right on the border of another country. I guess I'm going to be subjected to a lot of movement dynamics. I'll do what's in front of me. I always do, pretty much. It seems incredible to me that I could come all this way through time and distance and still have no idea what's going on with me. I can look at what I produce in my day to day and that gives me an indication of my motivations and intents and those, logically imply a commensurate destiny. All I want is a tight little space with enough room to perform in and a door that leads to something wild not too far away. Not much else comes to mind when I think about what I might want. You'd think it would be easy to put something like that together.

In the couple weeks prior to everything going fugazy, I was getting up in the morning and meditating. It was very nice. It's something I enjoy but... just like all of the other times I've sought to make that the entry point for my day, it led to something unpleasant and this has happened every time in recent memory that I can remember. This practice seems to set off some kind of alert on the vast trembling web of interconnectedness.

I guess what I am trying to say in this less than comprehensive or effective posting is that I don't have a clue about what anything means. I used to think that I did but I don't. I have to believe that this is just a phase in the journey. Maybe my mind and all of its components simply have to break down into a state of extended quiescence. Maybe this is how the reactive mind finally gets harnessed. Certainly, greater serenity and tranquillity cannot be achieved until it is stilled.

Perhaps the answer is not to have any questions. Perhaps it's just a matter of letting faith take the tiller and closing oneself off to all speculation and wishful thinking. You can want something so bad and despite even a superhuman effort to arrive at it, you cannot arrive, simply because the time is not yet at hand for it. Perhaps there are still walls and floors and even people to bounce off of, until the spirit is sufficiently tenderized, or until the fire has no impact on the metal.

I'm not sure I should have written this this evening but tomorrow I'm off into the unknown again and I don't know what opportunities will be at my disposal. Anyway, I've little choice in the matter from what I've seen of this whole process as it applies to me. I bid you all a good evening and measurable success in your own journey wheresoever it may lead.


End Transmission.......

Get well Les Visible
A get well Buttefly for Visible, sent in by Dawn, Pacific North-West USA.
Click for expanded version.


Visible sings: Color Ball by Les Visible♫ Without a Clue ♫
'Without a Clue' is track no. 11 of 12 on Visible's 2007 album 'Color Ball'

Color Ball by Les Visible


Visible's Self-Improvement Guide,
Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World

- 'An Exploration Toward the Ineffable'

Visible's 'Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World'


...is now available to buy at Amazon.




Paperback: $25.00
Buy Visible's 'Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World' from Amazon
Kindle Edition: $9.99
Buy Visible's 'Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World', Kindle Edition from Amazon

More of Visible's books and songs are available through his Store.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Here in the Painful Aftermath.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

I always thought there was more than an even chance I would make it into rehab. However, I don’t think anyone expected it to be by this route. I apologize to the reader for having been in possession of a life somewhere between Candide and The Perils of Pauline. It makes for interesting copy I suppose but it detracts from the uninterrupted production of work and fails to maintain a standard by example for the harmony we like to think is the singular elusive bird of prey in this locale; preyed upon? Preyed after? Prayed for? WDIK?

I suppose it was something over a week ago, give or take some hours, when I came tooling down the ladder of the loft and for reason that presently remain a mystery and... perhaps always will, my connection to the ladder ended and I did one of those original Die Hard endings. I know I hit the square meter of demo tile to one side of the ladder because I remember hearing it but the particulars of possible physics/geometry, whatever... escape me. Yes, I busted my left hip. Later in the day one could see that the entire left side of my face was black. Never before had I seen such a profound black eye on anyone. Here's where it gets strange. The backs of both of my hands were, until recently, swollen to twice their size and also quite black for the same reasons as the face. The fronts of my legs were cut up and several front teeth, I suspect, will soon only be accessed through a prosthetic. The front of my hands are fine.

I don't know where the count lies at this point in the number of the times I should have been dead. This is only a portion of the story and here is where it gets stranger still. At whatever point I recovered enough to crawl away from the yet to be drawn chalk mark, it became clear to me that I had broken something because I could not get up. It wasn't simply a matter of managing the pain. I just couldn't get up. I was able to get on my ass and by that means, hand and toe myself to the computer area. With great difficulty I finally was able to draw the cellphone to me, only to find that it contained a message telling me that the battery was out and it would shut down. I was able to make 3 attempted calls and none of these people were home. Getting to the charging line was apparently beyond my abilities.

Every now and again I would call out for help but there was no one where I was either and this is the first time I had ever experienced that. So... I sat there for hours. I'm guessing I must have been in shock because as evening fell I seemed to sense the arrival of the other occupant here. I managed to pull my keyboard down to me and get into my mail server. There were many complications on this as well but after sending out several incomplete appeals, the fellow who lives here made his way up and I imagine my appearance was a bit of a surprise to him.

He asked what he could do. I had been in pain for a long time. I asked him to bring me a bottle of wine and I think I surprised both of us by the speed at which I made it disappear. No bottle of wine has ever been so welcome in memory. The second one was also fine. Until then, I had no idea how cramped up and tensed up I was from what happened. Now I could talk and I explained what I remembered about what had happened. “You've been here all day?” he exclaimed. “Yes”.

It cannot be an accident that so many people usually reachable were unreachable. There are any number of odd twists to this tale. One of them is that a few days earlier the fellow had mentioned that his plans for the summer and so on had taken a big turn. This meant that for weeks he would be unavailable to assist me at what needed to be done there and the same was going to apply to people that were coming in to help. Prior to this I had been waiting on the arrival of two Poles who were to help me finally install the kitchen and bathroom. I never understood why these were not the greatest priority at the outset. None of the things we did were relevant to the needs of the season. They were going to help me carry appliances up and I would put in the support boarding and insulation on concrete for setting the tile for these areas. They didn't show up either.

Once again, as has happened so often, I began to sense that this was nothing more than some kind of mini drama taking my pulse and the pulse of others; as if we were in a fitting room of some kind and all of our vital statistics were guiding the hands of the tailors. I'd have been willing to tackle all of the various jobs, except electric, on my own. There are so many excellent videos out that you can be well guided but only some of the activities of this industry were permitted to me. I recognize, maybe for the first time in my life, that I am intentionally blinded to my circumstances for the purpose of education and demonstration at given times. Now... this should be obvious to me or anyone but when you are purposely blinded, you are blinded.

Anyhow, I said to myself, “I can't stay here.” though I fully intended to until the bitter truth of dysfunction settled its cold form around my entrails, somewhere mid fall. I stood in the center of the room and cried out, “Lord! What is your fucking point? What am I not doing and does that even matter? Get me out of here!” (hee hee) I'm sure I would like to have those words back.

Well... I'm out of there now, except for packing and pulling away. My biggest concern is my avocado tree, now over 3 years old, bouncing around in the car. It goes without saying that I am not going to be in the shape I need to be in to carry out this task which, in any case, I am sure would extend to next spring. I'm going to find a place, a place will be found for me, where I can just move in and go right to work. I'm as energized in that regard as I have ever seen myself. In fact, my next book is writing itself and already about a 6th done since I got here. Although I had already started on my next book, this one won't wait; “The Amazing Adventures of the Legendary El Comote”. Need I mention the intense comedic aspect of the tome? No.

The pain, I thought, would diminish, once the operation took place; quite the reverse. It's always around. Not so much if I don't move but that's no kind of dependable constant. Moving is a real experience. Perhaps you could call it a 'moving experience'? Working on the book really helps to keep the mind distracted. This hospital is not like other hospitals. It's caught in a time warp. Some of the people are very nice and some of them are refugees from a Dickens novel.

A reader got in touch with me this morning and wanted to send me some things. He's 500 k away. He wanted to visit but was mostly concerned about taking up my time after the initial back and forth, once he got here. Hmmmm (heh heh). He said he'd send a few things and that was that. 20 minutes later he called back to say he had to come and so he was coming and that's that. I suppose he'll walk through the door at any moment.

I managed to get on line by using the Bluetooth wireless effect from my cellphone. Works great! Fast and so forth but probably expensive so I don't use it unless I'm using it like... right now I'm not using it (grin).

The fellow whose place it is that I have been living and working at says he will refund me what I spent on items purchased for the place. That's very good news. It means I am only out my time and expenses and my hip and a few less tangible things.

I want to thank you all for the outpouring of support of all kinds. It might be a few days (or weeks) before I can thank you individually. Right now I just want to get this up and pray that the point of so many things so far not revealed to me will be revealed to me.


Much Love,


visible-


End Transmission.......