A productive morning mostly, playing hide and seek with the salacious “a iEye” attendant installed in every crevice for which the ‘____savants’ can conceive: fortunately for our species the range is limited by their avaricious orientation. i am in the midst of reconstructing, or re-engineering a recent surgical intrusion whereupon i was gutted and then left in suspense: virtually and literally. i’d committed the cultural faux pas of fighting of a young attendant after night’s poor rest due to _______ fill in all ‘passive aggressive’ envy, greed and emerging fascist training can manifest, it was present, up to and including the surgeon’s bald face lies to justify the ‘blackout’ that has constituted my post-operative care, naturally and consistent with reality; i am responsible for the grist that constitutes this pre-nokingsiii·: odd as fuck ‘hail Mary’ toss into the literary aether.
‘It is a good day to die’ but not for the travel an i Ching consultation seemed to advise: Hexagram 47 - Oppression (Exhaustion) · leading up to the portentous no kings three rally in the nation of my birth. As with many aspects of my existence a peculiar confluence of synchronicity seems to haunt my steps, even my dying sister identified this propensity giving me the early-on moniker of “odd todd” before either of us was out of grade-school, pourquoi pas¿ i am serious as a heart-attack, i.e. what are the odds of finding a stingray prong with the heal of my foot 1/2 mile into the bay of Guaymas at the inception of a 3-month long family sojourn on the same leg that would 40 years later provoke the cutting of a 5 foot tall granite femur that was then stolen by a wife to bestow as troth to the treacherous best man at the nuptials of a marriage which would dissolve soon exacerbated by an emergency appendectomy seeding fertile ground of arthritic erosion resulting in a hernia assault. Lest ye come to think this ‘history’ is contrived as “she who would be queen” who’d later managed to kickstart my dead and departed love muscle might said; my wife and i then lived @ 234 Hamlet St “There are more things in heaven and earth Horatio / Than are dreamt of in your philosophy” - Hamlet, Prince of Denmark · via William Shakespeare
It is a pleasure to find the ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ is not necessarily a train coming this way, however disconcerting it is to have one’s path illumined by the ‘the way’, an echo from a Chinese sage antedating the above literary sage thrice times as many years as the light of our age ‘son of god’ antedates us - you do the math. In terms of confluence way back in January of 2o26 prior to the ‘inauguration’ of the heir-apparent anti-christ the “Doomsday Clock” of our age was moved twice 89, then 85 seconds prior to midnight; unfortunately this was far ahead of the insanity of King Doofus the First, being exposed for the insatiable leacher the planet has come to use as its flimsy excuse for unleashing pent-up penis-envy at the greed (bait-and-switched) in my birth nation’s erratic experiment with ancient conceit of Democracy, roughly paraphrased with LASER-like accuracy synchronistically close to the same time the acronym itself came to be: “the authorities all stand around and boast, how they blackmailed the Sergeant-at-Arms into leaving his post” - Bob Dylan.
enough for now - i believe in the sacredness of the “5 paragraph essay” due to the wisdom of my father ‘still oozing out of my ears’ - B.Dylan · yet the truth be told as i understand things, the ‘essay’ itself has evolved from a much looser form developed by Michel de Montaigne, close to 500 years ago more closely resembling ’stream of consciousness’ than the more pedantic ‘5 paragraph’ form Pop so kindly shoehorned into my noodle oh-so-long-ago.
solidarność
(˚ㄥ _˚)
24 March 2026
http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com
http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com
http://Stoanartst.blogspot.com
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reprinted with permission; all rights reserved
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