Prince of Kittens

I am currently in K-Town at the benevolent wishes of his most gracious Prince of Kittens, Duke of Kittendom, High Potentate of Litteracy. Or, as I simply refer to him, "B-Dog." It is here I shall remain for at minimum of four more days doing his every bidding which is mostly feeding, and occasional scratches behind the ears. Like all Monarchs before him, he has a rather rude propensity for late night activities, for which we are currently searching for a cure. However, while in his service he has been most very gracious and kind by allowing me access to his DSL connection, which makes me weep at its speed and accuracy.

Things of possible interest (maybe only to me)

Flickr:

29 Cloud Textures added

11 Clouds+Objects added

I shall be at the only officially sanctioned Brigade watering hole in town, this evening.

Storm's a Comin'

The storm’s come back. It wants a piece of me this time. I can feel its distain in its warm breath. It’s almost December and the temperature outside is 61 and dense with trouble. It knows I’m leaving and wants to get me before I do. In two days I’m heading west, back to the city of the fort. Back, to the place where the honey flows. So, Tomorrow I’ll batten down the hatches and turn off the generators and polish the floors. Make nice just in case the owners come home. They’ll wonder, “Who's been sleeping in my bed?’ “Who’s been eating all my food?” They’ll say, even though all the food is actually mine. But I’ll be gone, at least for a few days. Then I’ll be back, sleeping in their beds and eating their/my food and wondering when the next storm will come. But for now it’s spit and polish. Heave Ho!

Stories to read.

Also, here are a couple of nice articles about C.S. Lewis and the Chronicles of Narnia in general because of the movie and such that I’ve found to be quite enjoyable as well as informative.

New Yorker

New York Times

And here is one on making colored bubbles.

Incentives Offered

What possible incentives would be needed to entice good people to pick up a fine factory produced good book?

I Just Knew It!

See, this proves it, it's all just theater. All those years and no one would believe me.

Black Friday 2005

Well, since I'm near Pigeon Forge, I thought I'd make a little photo display of Black Friday for those who are no longer here, those who have ever thought of coming, and those who have never been here before. Luckily I was able to find a black outfit to wear to fit the occasion. The trip to the largest outlet mall "Tanger Outlet at Five Oaks" took 2 hours. I traveled 3.4 miles and looked for a parking place once I arrived for 20 min before giving up and heading home. Oh yeah, I also burned up 1/4 of a tank of gas. The return trip took 20 minutes.

If this gets out, maybe some fundamentalist whack job will understand the potential.

Black Friday Food

I've been playing around with a few things over the last few days.

One is a simple salad of baby spinach, pomegranate seeds, capers, crumbled salmon, lemon juice and pepper. I think it’s quite refreshing.





The other thing requires leftover mashed potatoes, that I placed in the fridge in a square container. Now all I do is cut out a square and brown it on all six sides, which seems to heat it through perfectly, and just a micro salad of spinach and pomegranate seeds. I also find this quite enjoyable although I’m still working on the best way to brown it evenly.

Thanksgiving and Remains

So, I hope everyone, that celebrated it, had a nice Thanksgiving, and I hope Sarah and Kurt now have a new addition to their ever-expanding franchise of Zinser-Lowe produced offspring. While on the subject, I should also congratulate Mico and Susanne on their addition as well, some eight weeks past or so. Everyone now has two. I'm really just waiting on the names.

This will probably be viewed one day as the most tasteless blog transition ever, but time is limited and I've been drinking.

Since I started telling people that I took the Forensic Anthropology course from Dr. Bass in the early 90's at UT, people have been asking me what it was like. So, while I can't really answer that here, I can link you to one of the reports I turned in, in 1992, so that you can see what we produced each week for class. I picked it from the middle. I think we produced ten of these reports, so it should be indicative. It would take me about 20 hours to produce one with the organizing and diagramming of the skeletal remains, then the research and the actual production of the report. It was hands down the hardest class I have ever taken. Then again, I was a bit behind from the start. It unfortunately does not contain the figures/diagrams that went with it because I no longer have access to a copier that makes “.pdf” files and I never got around to running my stuff through it while I did. I also don't know what my grade was on this one, but it was probably a B or C because of mistakes in the bibliography. Since these were "legal" documents we were producing, we had to be exact on references since the entire thing could be thrown out, theoretically, on the basis of a misplaced comma or missing period. I almost always hit the facts square on the head but then hosed the whole thing on the references. I should have had an editor or a savvy Admin Assistant while taking that course, but alas I did not. Anyway, it's over on Tales of the Fabricationist and can be found here "Forensic 92-5" as well. Be careful, it contains math.

Mice Turds and TG Wishes

The mouse, or whatever it is, keeps evading my trap and crapping on my floor. I’m pretty sure, as odd as it might sound, that he’s living in the sofa. I’d live in the sofa if I were in his place. It’s nice and warm, and comes with all of the material you would need to build a nest. And, just outside, is the biggest, nicest, hardwood floor TOILET anyone, mouse or man, could ask for. The irony of all this (although the level of irony may be less than I suspect since I have what is expected in the mountains, but did not have what is expected in Manhattan, which would make Manhattan full of more irony, which is probably how it should be since I'm not sure exactly how much irony is available to go around here in the mountains) to me is that I lived in NY for five years and never once had a rat or mouse problem. After the first two months where I made certain adjustments to my environment, mostly chemical, I never had roaches either. However, here in the woods in a state of the art, tightly sealed, modern log cabin, I have a mouse, spiders, squirrels chewing on the exterior, and what I believe to be bats or birds living in the roof (not in my belfry). Don’t get me wrong; in a way it is what I’d expect. Whatever.

So, I switched from peanut butter to a nice slice of extra sharp Vermont white cheddar. It was the only cheese I had. I’ve decided the reason people hate mice is not because they carry disease, and it isn’t because people find little holes in their food from time to time. The reason people hate mice is because of the fact that mice crap in the middle of your floor. The sheer audacity, not to mention rudeness of the act drives people mad. Mice are small; they could crap in a corner of your house you never look at, or under your fridge, or in their own little burrow. They taunt you with their little jimmies of defiance, of humiliation. They say, “Look at me, I’m crappin’ on your floor and there is nothing you can do about it.” Well bygod , there is something I can do. Either he goes humanely into that little trap by the time I return from Thanksgiving, or I’m going to have to raise the stakes and get some more “permanent” solutions. Or, at least he could crap somewhere I don’t see it. I swear, if I find his little home, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to leave him a little (sic) present. Where did I put that flax seed?

On an unrelated note, I hope everyone has a nice Thanksgiving, unless you’re from another country and don’t understand why we celebrate the first handshake, which delivered the European virus upon the land that infected everything and eventually mutated into the society we have now, that is fine. You’re not missing much, except for the hugs and some gas. For you I wish a well deserved extended weekend. The turkeys are blurry because the photo was taken from my car while I was leaving the encampment.

I'd kill for a cigarette

It is a drab and dreary day here. Kind of feels like that moment when you step in a small puddle of water with nice clean socks on and feel the cold dampness hit your feet and wince as though in pain and walk the rest of the way skipping on one foot. I went out and had lunch at THE OLD MILL RESTARANT with my parents and my aunt and uncle who were in town. All the way back I craved a cigarette. This day is perfect for having a cigarette. A cigarette smoked on the screened in porch in the damp and cold wearing my father’s old JC PENNY jacket and watching the drops hit the planks of the deck. But, I drove on, passing all of the grocery stores and gas stations until it was too late to buy cigarettes; it was too late to turn back. The desire did not fade though so when I got home, I had a pipe, first one in over a year, of SMOKEY’S store blend instead and thought a little about killing and how good the smoke tasted in my mouth.

There’s a new story up on Tales called “Room 34” and it is the second story about preparation. It'll probably change from this form later when I have another look at it. For now it's just a first draft.

Mouse Trap and White Chili

All I wanted was a mousetrap. The reason is that there is either a mouse in the cabin or one of the plants near the window bears fruit that looks like little chocolate jimmies. So I went out for the mouse trap knowing it was Saturday and sunny. I am a fool. While it did not take long to get to the Wal-mart, getting back to the cabin was something like 30 min for five miles.


Stopped by the grocery store where there was a pound of ground chicken for $ 1.79. So, I picked-up a few things and went home and made a very spontaneous white chili, which I've never made before and which I made-up. I'm now wondering what it has in common with other people's white chili. This one takes like 20 minutes to make max. I also seeded (peeled as it were) a Pomegranate, which was interesting. I now have a container of Pomegranate seeds that I intend to add to a salmon and spinach salad tomorrow.

1 lb ground chicken (browned)
1 can Great Northern Beans (drained/rinsed)
1 can Black Beans (drained/rinsed)
1 packet Pioneer Biscuit Gravy Mix (2 cup version)
Salt and Black Pepper to taste

Combine first three ingredients once Chicken is browned. Make gravy as per directions. Add gravy. Add water to achieve desired consistency. Allow to simmer for ten minutes. Enjoy with biscuits or corn chips. I thought it was quite tasty, but then again it was chicken and beans in gravy if you want to really break it down. How bad could it be?

I wonder why I don't seem to be losing any weight? Oh Well.

Oh yeah, and I've now baited the trap (which is a live capture box since I can't bring myself to kill it) with the fresh peanut butter I made from a cup of the 5 cup container of peanuts given to me after the party at the bar.

I am living the life of Riley. Don't tell his wife.

Caught in the Act!

Oh yeah...I have a Master's Degree in Film. Take that French New Wave. I'm breaking new ground here. I have a feeling deep in my gut that what America wants is funny videos of animals. It will be earth shattering. It will change everything. Man, maybe I can even get some third string comedian to host a show of them once I have enough. Baby Oh baby I am hot right now.

Tinkering About

MIND THE GAP PLEASE!

Tinkering about today moving bits from here to there and sometimes back again. Trying to make Tales of the Fabricationist a bit more useful as a somewhat professional warehouse of goods. Things will start popping up over there in the sidebar as well. Only one new post a day over there though. Until then I've posted some cloud textures over at flickr that may sooth your soul if it is weary.

So that you won't be bored, here is a little poem.

Tippy the bear sat up with a start,
He sat right up in bed to the beat of his heart.
It was beating quite quickly, quite quickly indeed.
Tippy the bear was so scared that he peed.
His sheets turned all yellow, his face changed to red,
But tippy the bear kept on wetting his bed.
His bladder soon empty, like a newly dead sack.
Tippy sighed a bear sigh, and laid down on his back.
Just as quickly and fast as the fear had first been,
Tippy the bear dreamed of having a swim.

Oh yeah, and here is a picture of me, not suitable for framing and yes I realize I am pouring bourbon and lime juice together. It wasn't my drink I was pouring...I don't think.

T-SHIRTS - Coming Soon 3

Feeling Loved

I am slowly beginning to feel loved. It is all that keeps me warm here. Do not stop. Never stop.

Kitchen WMD

Awe...isn't he sweet. Wait...what's that he's doing? He's eating the buds off of the plant next to the bird feeder. Well, I'm afraid that it has come to this. The squirrels continue to gnaw at the exterior of the house. My father wanted me to spray the places where they chew with insecticide, but he has done this once before and they have returned. So, I have taken it upon myself to construct a nasty liquid of my own, the act of which takes me back to when I was a small child mixing all the liquids I could find in the bathroom into a glass jar and wondering at it's might power. I have chose for my repellent elixir the following items, which I have added to water and heated to a rolling boil then let sit so as to extract of of their goodness: 10 chili pepins (crushed), 1 1/2 Tsp. crushed black pepper, cinnamon, 2 crushed garlic bulbs, tsp. cloves, tsp crushed mustard seeds, white vinegar, balsamic vinegar, and a pinch of salt. After the liquid had cooled somewhat I strained out all of the biggish bits since on the last try they clogged the sprayer, and poured the whole lot into a handy pressure canister. I pumped the canister vigorously then placed a ladder on the side of the house and sprayed where the little buggers had already decimated a healthy portion on the logs above the porch. Oh, and I've also chili peppined the sunflower seeds at the bottom of the bird feeder. As "W" once said after a satisfying day, "I think I could use a vacation." Currently the cabin smells heavily of black pepper, mustard, and vinegar in the most unappetizing way possible. If a picture is worth a thousand words then this post is 6298 words long, which officially makes it the longest post on this blog.

Beef and Pasta Soup

Made a moderately successful Beef and pasta soup for dinner. Unfortunately it was a bit on the salty side due to the brining of the meat and the subsequent addition of chicken stock I had made four months ago. The stock was more sodium rich than I had remembered. It is by no means inedible however since the sodium amount has the taste equivalent of a can of Campbell’s soup, which is simply more sodium than I care for. Two servings have been reserved for later. The photo would have looked nicer had I some green herbs to sprinkle on the soup, but alas what I do have, that is green, is not appropriate for this particular soup. However, I may heat and pour the next serving I eat over some julienne Napa cabbage.

Mr. Nibbles

Mr. Nibbles has struck again. This time however, I was able to capture him fleeing the scene. To the right you can see a small portion of the damage he hath wrought. Something must be done before he is able to make it through the logs and gain access to the cabin. One can only assume that he is suffering from the delusion of being a Beaver. While not common among squirrels it has been documented over the years. The most recent account was made in 1956 when a squirrel was found to have built a 30-foot high damn just outside of Sioux City. Unlike a standard beaver damn, this one had been constructed almost entirely of walnut shells held together with a paste made of chewed pieces of telephone poles. Unfortunately the squirrel was found to be suffering from tar poisoning at the time of its discovery. I’m afraid Mr. Nibbles may find himself suffering from lead poisoning should he persist in his efforts to whittle away the logs above the porch.

Tales of the Fabricationist

Tales of the Fabricationist is now live. This will be where I put new fiction or even parts of fiction. It is partly me trying to make sure a nice copyright trail is in effect as well as making myself create new content. I'm sure in some way I'm hurting my ability to publish it anywhere else, but only the future will tell if that is true. Since this is primarily a "local" site for friends and relations, it shouldn't constitute official publication. So having said that, I am now stating that the items over at Tales of the Fabricationist are being placed there for storage purposes only and are not intended to be considered self published works of fiction. Having said that, I'm not sure there is anything I can do to stop you from having a look. I can't guarentee the frequency that new things will be posted there, but hopefully it will be more frequently than not. I still haven't gotten the font to be the one I want nor do I have much control over formatting.

A Storm is coming

I can smell the storm coming in from the west before I see it. Its moving slow and brings destruction with it. It smells like tepid bathhouse water and regret. It screams inaudibly as it rolls across the sky. It is malevolent and has aims beyond my understanding. The cows know more than I do. Last evening I witnessed one sacrifice itself against a tree while the rest of the herd stood encircling it, moaning in low dissonant songs that vibrated the windshield of my car. The fish in the pond have begun to push themselves into the rocks trying to escape. The water rolls like its simmering, filled with uncontrollable feeding frenzies as those trying to escape fail, and break apart against the rocks. I can feel it picking at the center of my mind, probing for my true name. It will never find it. My true name is hidden deep within the weeping tree in a box of skin and bones of men once lost at sea. The regrets of these men hold it secure; masking its true allegiance with their confusion, thinking it is their own. When it cannot find what it is searching for it will move on. It needs to feed and will waste little time where it cannot be satiated. While it does enjoy the hunt, it is driven by baser needs. It has not left yet and lingers just beyond the hills. So for now, the cows continue to moan and the fish break upon the rocks of the shore, and I sit still thinking of nothing and moving as little as possible.

Nimble Mao

The Squirrels have sent an operative to do a Mission Impossible on the bird feeder. It must have been trained in China for it is nimble and acrobat like. What they do not know is that I have mixed radioactive sunflower seeds into the mix so that I can track them. I’m starting to think that they are big enough to eat should I capture one. Either that or they might make nice pets, or even friends. I am lonely. There are many of them and only one of me. I wonder how they would feel if there was many of me, and only one of them. I bet they would be lonely too. I have named this one Nimble Mao. For he is both nimble and a Maoist. I feel the "Squirrel's War" coming. These are peasants, though oddly large and well fed, squirrels and I am afraid that the believe me to be the bourgeoisie.

Jimmy Carter is Crazy

When one thinks of a cabin in the mountains, one thinks of light breezes, the sound of rustling leaves and an overall lack of intrusive sound. Unfortunately today has been nothing but the sounds of construction and leaf blowers. The construction I can almost let go since Jimmy Carter is building a deck that extends out on the far side of the pond. He has already built a number of benches and bridges in the so-called “public” areas of Hidden Lake Estates. The leaf blowing however has been going on for about two and a half hours now and all I have to say is, “WE ARE IN THE FREAKIN’ MOUNTAINS.” At first I wasn’t sure if it was even coming from our little neck of the woods. Leaf blowers are very loud devices and it is quite simple on a peaceful Saturday in the mountains for an obtrusive noise such as this to carry. However, a few short minutes ago, while I was preparing a nice batch of beans and rice with chicken, I could swear I heard the noise getting closer. “Why on earth,” I asked myself, “would a leaf blower be getting closer to the cabin?” So, I looked outside. Low and behold here comes good old Jimmy Carter down the dirt trail that runs around the entire pond, with his leaf blower, clearing off the path of all of the recently fallen leaves. YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME! I have now decided that not only is Jimmy Carter crazy, but he is also a hindrance to my own sanity. Please see the photograph provided as evidence of the elusive leaf blowing Jimmy Carter, in the wild (his plaid jacketed, leaf blower wielding self can be located in the right side of the photo). I can only hope now that the squirrels get to him before I do.

Focus!

Currently the biggest hurdle before me.


At least the projects downstairs come with craft services.

Greg By Himself

A single panel comic strip I did in 1991 for the Daily Beacon at UT is now up on flickr. It was more a social experiment than anything else. What most people didn’t know at the time is that I did all of the strips over two separate weekends, not on a daily basis. Therefore, by the time they began to react to the strip it had been completed with regards to the panels that would actually make it into print. The strip while in the paper generated a lot of reaction. The least favorable reactions were in the form of telephone death or bodily harm threats. It is plain to see, unfortunately, where I began to react to these in the second round of producing the panels. I wish I had not. While I was only 21 at the time I believe that for the most part the effect still holds up. Of course there are some slips and silliness as well. The strip’s function was simple, a single repeated image that allowed the constant reader to infer a context onto the image. The sayings were all intended to be out of context allowing the reader to apply them to whatever context they had already applied to the image. Some are successful in upholding this and some are not. I think the fact that I got death threats for such a banal experiment proved its point. Unfortunately the strips are not entirely in their original printing order.

There is nothing more destructive to reality than the paratext we each bring to a given situation.

Getting these 39 .jpgs onto Flickr with a dial-up connection was tantamount to stuffing a Rhinoceros into a teacup without chipping the lip. So enjoy.

T-SHIRTS - Coming Soon 2

Don't worry, there will be secular ones too.

Quote for today

It is inaccurate to say that I hate everything. I am strongly in favor of common sense, common honesty, and common decency. This makes me forever ineligible for public office.

H. L. Mencken (1880 - 1956)

Pride!

It is with overwhelming pride that I introduce my nephews. I’m not sure I could be more proud at this moment. Not only do they epitomize the nature of being brothers, but they do it with a genre specific style that brings tears to this great leader’s eyes. I do not choose one over the other, however…

Officially Sanctioned

An officially sanctioned Brigade watering hole is opening in MN in the spring. Not all bars are up to the task of satiating members. It is guaranteed that this one will be. They've had experience dealing with me, which makes them fully accredited. If you're in the Winona, MN area next spring, drop in for a pint and show your true colors.

Supplies.

I have gone to town to buy supplies.

THWARTED!

Through sheer luck and a bit of off the cuff intelligence left for me by one of the bats that clean the air of foul insects at night, I got wind that the Squirrels were preparing to unleash another of their insidious plots. It was therefore no great surprise when there came a knock at my door around 5:57 PM this afternoon. Upon inquiring who it was that might be there a faint but high pitched reply sounding like some odd forty voices in concert said, “Tasty Chicken.” This utterance confused me as well, so I inquired “Tasty Chicken What?” To which almost immediately came the response, “Er, well, Uh…to eat.” Well, not being one to turn down tasty free chicken to eat I opened the door and was confronted by the single largest giant chicken I had ever seen. I quickly deduced however, that this was no ordinary giant chicken, but a “Trojan Chicken” concocted by the Squirrels in an effort to gain access to the cabin. If it had not been for a combination of the Bat’s intelligence combined with the fact that the giant chicken was wearing a blue neck scarf, I most likely would have let the chicken in. For you see, Giant Chickens don’t wear blue neck scarves for they clash with the red of their wattle. “Liars! Insidious Fiends!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, at which point forty high pitched voices began to yell things like; “Retreat.”, “He’s on to us.”, Quit stepping on my face.”, and the hind quarters of the chicken erupted with frightened and I must say duly thwarted squirrels. So, all is back to normal now and I have a fine yard ornament, which I have begun to refer to as “Alistair Reginald Terence Umbrage III.”

I need a bigger car...

...so that I can show people how much I care about everything.

Yesturday was OK

Yesterday was nice. If you're local and planning on looking at the leaves, it'll all be mostly over by Wednesday, I'd say. I've found that the fish favor stale pork rinds. They are southern fish after all. The stale bit just keeps the rinds on the hook longer. I must make a journey today to thwart an evil plan of the squirrels. I almost caught one this morning sneaking sugar into my gas tank. He said it was for his coffee, but I know squirrels are partial to tea.

Pilgrimage

I had a dream last night that I must take a pilgrimage to see the“Great Cross of Hubris”. I was not sure if I should go, but nonetheless I went. It was a long and arduous journey with little in the way of reward. But it was here, high atop the hill that I found the lost “Sanctified Subdivision”. It is here that my people will settle and live simply until the day we can be taken high above and make thunder with our passing. Wait…wait…what am I saying? Jesus. Who put this freakin’ 110’ cross here. Is this a new Ripley’s exhibit? I am so ashamed. I feel dirty now. I bet it was the Squirrels. What do they think this is...






Never mind.

JOIN ME!

CLICK HERE
Official Brigade Humus Recipe

1 can Chick Peas (Garbanzo Beans) Drained - liquid reserved
1-2 cloves garlic
2-3 Tsp. Lemon Juice (2 then add more to taste)
2-3 Tsp. Olive Oil (depends on consistency desired)
2 Tsp. Tahini
Smidge of salt
Smidge of pepper

Stick in blender or food processor. Blend. If it is too thick, add Tsp at a time of drained Chick Pea juice or more lemon juice until it reaches desired consistency and flavor. Some people like cumin and paprika in theirs. I think if you use it, it should be used lightly when it is served sprinkled on top and not mixed in at time of prep you could also garnish, if you so wish, with olive oil, toasted pinenuts and whole chick peas. Also can be made with Kidney beans and Garbanzo mixed (Kidney beans add sweetness). Or you can use Frijoles Negros which allows the flavor of the olive oil to be revealed. There's also the Frijoles Negros and sweet corn version. You get the idea.

FIshing with Bagels

Baud Rate: 26400 bps (I’m not sure it is going to get better than this)

Went down to the pond today to test the fishing in case my food runs out. I fished with an old hotdog bun, a bagel, and later with some salmon and some fluorescent trout bait. It is now scientifically proven, as far as I am concerned, that brim prefer to eat without a hook in their food, but will be caught with a piece of bagel quite nicely. Unfortunately most of the ones I caught would be best eaten cured like sardines. If it gets bad I’ll have to build a net from dental floss and cast it wide. Either that or I’ll got to the grocery store and buy some more food.

3 Hours and $40.00 later

SABOTAGE!. Squirrels must have sent an agent in last night to weaken the key. Luckily I am more than willing to call a locksmith from a rental cabin near by all the while assuring the renters that the call I am making is local and that I do not plan on killing them all. Temperature outside drops at a rate of 5 degrees per hour when waiting on a locksmith. Next time I'll wear more than a t-shirt. Will only go running in parka now with extra set of keys and 10 lbs. of food. Luckily the locksmith was kind and only charged $40.00 for two keys and a round trip journey on his part of 30 miles. Only here in the woods would a locksmith feel guilty for being late. Going to drink coffee now and try and warm up. May have to add radiator fluid to coffee to stay warm. The squirrels don’t know about the extra key. I must hide it somewhere they’ll never look.
Mr. Stitches.

Tick...Tick...Tick

Baud Rate: 26400 bps

I'm sitting here trying to get something done, but the silence keeps being broken by the tick...tick...tick of a clock somewhere. It's regulating my day like a metronome. I'm guessing I'll have to take the battery out before I succumb to it's hypnotic beats. The fan under my laptop is also humming and the TV downstairs has been muted so I can feel it's presence without actually listening to it. Distraction is easy right now. I can also admit that the internet connection is so slow as to make me feel I'm missing the world as it hurries past. Everything has slowed down here including my perception of time. There is something odd about having to emulate a sort of OCD in order to catch the dial-up between busy signals. It's a memory I'd almost lost.

I'd also like to say that eating just a half cup of oatmeal that one has to boil water to make is a very arduous task. I'm trying to be good, but it is like stuffing a softball size clump of wet wood dust down one's throat a ping pong ball at a time, and this was with brown sugar and chocolate chips added.

Tick...Tick...Tick...Tick...

Surviving Day 1

Baud Rate: 26400bps

Survived the night. I think the squirrels are planning something though. They stopped their efforts early in the evening and I haven't heard them since.

The infrastructure is now in place.

There is now a Brigade outpost in Iceland. They're off the map.

I now have intelligence from one of the loyalists in the Brigade that the owls are not what they seem. They’re doorways, the key is in their eyes. Their riddles are a ruse. They know who they are. When everything begins to go wrong I can use them to escape, that is if they will let me. They take no sides. They are the watchers and keepers of the law. Their allegiance is their own.

Working on the future today by digging in the past. Heading for the PROMISED LAND.

Into the Woods

Well, I guess it all begins now. Exactly what that is I'm not sure. This is where you should check back occasionally to make sure I'm still sane. I'm going to try and put something up every day even though I'll only have a 56.6 dial-up (currently connected at a mind altering 26400 bps). If anyone out there knows how I can fiddle with the css to make this thing have the blog in the middle and side bars on each side let me know. I've been trying to figure it out and haven't yet. Never should have started with a template. I haven't fiddled with HTML since it was 1.0 and CSS is all new to me. Learning a new language at my age isn't easy.

On the left, click on the Fabricationist Brigade and add yourself. It'll map everyone so I can know where you all are.

If you know anyone I know who's been asking about me, point them here and walk away.

I think the squirrels are trying to access my brain using an outdated Morse code neural hack. I just hope the latest synaptic electrochemical encryption I injected holds. Well, I'll leave this first post as what it is. Getting a little hungry now. I think I saw a few acorns on the way in.