paradise

Inquiry,

Type, glorious type

Today I am typing til it all comes out.

Typing the feign away

Typing to work!

So let me type a bit to this one. Because it was a sweet ditty and I'm catching up on all your UNREADS in this box.

I have 74!

I guess I should also catch up on the UNREADS! in my desk, but hey there's only so much type I can do at once.

Those go faster.

Especially if the only thing I eat is letters. (As opposed to eating “food”)

Seriously though. OMAD (one meal a day) is trending, as is IF (intermittent fasting) as is the Carnivore Diet, and I'm tellin' ya.... they all intersect at an odd point.

I can't stand the thought of a meat-only diet, something about it seems so fucking disgusting to me. Then again, I'm not a winterized Northerner, so I'm thinking “meat only” isn't as close to my equatorial islander genetic history as it is for all my Anglo counterparts here chirping about the amazing (placebo) effects of EXTREME MEATINESS

Ummm.. its just a way to stuff more tasty monodiet in one's mouth.

The fuck, man. the fuck.

And the way all these Youtubers and Cultists are preaching their meat monodiets don't sound very mono to me, as they're peppering and currying and onioning them to taste. One of the basic arguments of carnivore is extreme elimination, and that 'plants don't want to be eaten, plants make anti-nutrients, anti-nutrients bad',

but um...

Spices are plants. Moreover, spices are so spicy/pungent/flavorful because they CONCENTRATE the “anti-nutrients” (pesticidal compounds, immunological compounds, so on) and um...

I don't know, bud. It sounds dumb.

Onto...

On Sun, Dec 30, 2018, at 04:08, Typing Practice wrote: Re: early morning floridian meanderings

Paradise,

Early morning at sister's place. Nearly sat on the face of her guy sleeping on the couch because I was up early for going to bed early, and it was dark, and I'd decided to sit where I sat yesterday because of it's proximity to an end table for the water and coffee cups I was carrying. Good thing I was sitting down slowly and [redacted] made some noises as my fabric of my shorts just started grazing his face.

These are fairly well-off people, so it's quite the place overlooking Tampa Bay. Quite the view from the dining room table I'm sitting at while typing this.

Mmmm, sweet typing.

I honestly feel like I'm on the edge of a major breakthrough in what might be called anything from “getting it” to “grokking reality” to “intemporal solitude” (oh fuck, I think I hear [redacted]). [Update: What was I thinking? [redacted] at 7:00am? Dream on, Vneckerino... 'twas my sister, who rather enjoyed my “nearly sat on [redacted's] face” story.]

This is funny. Can imagine sister.

getting it > grokking reality > in temporal solitude

Or do the brackets go the other way around?

My siblings are amazingly cool, btw. We're all rather different, yet complimentary atop some basics of human interaction that tend to make gatherings efficient and fun. My sister giggles a lot the way I tend to over sudden humorous realizations. My brothers in that vein, but tends to sport a somewhat deeper sarcasm. Regardless, we laugh a lot when we're together, and love attempting to remember and re-assemble past details from days long gone by.

I love hearing about your sister giggling. All of you, your chemistry. Beautifurfect.

I hope my kiddos talk about their siblings like this eventually.

Right now it's a fierce fight for dominance over domain

and mental illness charged particles.... like an anime fight. Constant push-pull. It's exhausting to be in the vicinity of, not just to stick triple flange earplugs in to tune out, but to PARENT and parent effectively. This is the future generation of mankind we're talking about here, one fuckup and the rest of the world is kaput. Ugh! Lots of pressure.

Conflict management is the single most important skill to arrange in life. Underlined and squared. Can't just be a couple turtle turds like you and I and withdraw/type/avoid until it “all goes away”... because, like the rest of it, “life” will also “go away” too. You'll navelgaze at 85 wondering where this all went. And this is WITHOUT the year 2045 augments that will extend your pain free life into boredom oblivion.

There will be totally new conflicts to resolve in 2045, mind.

and

Before your tongue szaszzes out the well worn line “all mental is illness”, gonna stop you right there. no need for that psychobabble here.

there is a point where the body is ill and needs treatment. same as mind. you do healthy things for the body, it responds with health. same as mind.

So no, not all mental is illness.

Some mental is beauty.

Some mental is exhilaration.

Some mental is wellness.

Some mental is connection.....

Mental is forest

Mental is universe....

Whoever said “all mental is illness” was himself MENTALLY ILL.

Whoever repeats it

is

MENTALLY ILL.

(see what I did there? ;o)

I mean, aren't you good at logic n'shit? Shouldn't you have caught that logical fallacy already? Mindblindness gets ya, man. When you're not looking. Especially when you're not looking. That's why it's a blind spot, innit? That's why your friends are mirrors, aren't they? Check yer mirrors!

They're closer to each other, and even look more alike than I. And we've certainly had our difficulties, the most stark being just after I'd [redacted], and I was back in the hometown, and I distinctly remember screaming “YOU FUCKING BITCH!!” at my sister standing just outside my driver's seat windown, prompting my brother to reach through that opening and remove a large section of cloth from the middle of my shirt in one quick grab/pull as I was attempting to drive away. They were the worst^2 of times.

A thought I had about the worst^2 of times:

They're journalized so much more. Not just to sell papers, but in personal journals. Mine, my Day One, is always prompting me to look and relive my past entries. “Hey, relive your (3) past entries on Apr. 16”, and unfailingly they're always something a shade bad, or maybe even extreme. Abortions. Fights. Kidnapping retellings.

I'm never just sitting back typing the good times to myself.... I'm always.... trying to stir up some shit... as though it makes life important, or as though it makes anything the least bit better.

I mean, there's part to it being reprocessing trauma.

But for that to work you have to write it, read it out loud in monotone (with no emotions attached), and burn it.

writing it descriptively gets the facts down

reading it monotone takes the emotions away (and to a large part, the trauma)

and burning it symbolically throws it to the wind, rendering it unimportant.

But where are the good times?

I suppose they are all stillframed in photographs, not needing words. Who needs words when you have the smiling faces of children, sisters, mothers, brothers, friends?

And then

I always have my sent folder. :–)

Sister has no offspring, brother has two derelict sons, and I've two merely estranged sons, one of which [redacted] insists isn't mine. Collectively, we've “kept it small” – rather in line with our origins.

So that's what people do when they come from abusive, angry fathers. They keep it small and self-absorbed.

That's my sociological conclusion anyway.

Parents of baby boomers had 3.1 children vs 1.6 of baby boomers. Fertility dropped. Good economic times led to hedonism instead of raising families. Canada's stats

Everyone went through this.

It takes a mormon or some other deeply religious sect who believes in hyper-reproduction to buck the trend.

holy shit, right?

Another day in, Paradise

— .:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:. published not proofread. #NeverLookBackspace! Words, Ideas, Magic copyrighted by Zem at BeTheFuture. this is confidential communication. Protected by US and International law.