Aphorisms.

Life never “gets in the way”; that’s just lifestyle. It is WE that get in the way of Life. Dm.

Every thing that I do is complicated. If I took a day off to relax, I’d pay for it by complicating every little chore that people found for me to do after the fact. I would complicate it to spite them, if they thought it was little to ask of me. Dm.

When I first saw “Trumbo”, I knew that guy had been a Capricorn based solely on the bath-tub scene. That life though. Dm.

I like to write things down after a day of testing them. If I forget them, they have failed the test. Dm.

May be each time I failed with women I was following some man’s half-hearted and misplaced advice. May be this time it’s going to work simply because I’ve told no one, and I still believe it. Yes: that means that I believe it because I believe it, ultimately. One can be circular without being tautological if no one is listening; it’s all so called being self-evident. Dm.

There comes a time when one must drop every thing one is doing and do some thing that one meant to do years ago but never had gotten finished. Dm.

Play is indispensable to work. If one is playing out of spontaneity, expecting nothing, it will serve work’s purposes better often than pure intent. But a natural worker’s ego’s easily bruised when he’s found at play. Dm.

Apologetics for the I Ching.

Apologetics for the I Ching:

1.        The hexagram was not desired, but it was appropriate to the needs of the questioner, as answers are appropriate to questions.

2.      The meaningful answer was a coincidence Meaning and coincidence are contingent.

It cannot have MEANING without some COINCIDENCE, and neither can it be COINCIDENTAL without being-

Meaningful. And yet despite the seeming tautology, it is not a fallacy.

Meaning and coincidence are one, and this one item is inevitable only by virtue of the metaphysical forces in question. Rationally, there is no necessity for it outside of these forces, and were such a necessity found it could be equated WITH those forces.

Scientific epistemology demands one constant and one variable.

Either meaning or coincidence must be inevitable, and the other of the two must not be. Only when the two fall into accord does science recognise them. Yet this is but scientific thinking. It is not the only episteme that works, nor is it the most useful or most honest. In OUR epistemology as seekers, all things are possible, yet few can be promised. Will and chance play into all. So nothing is totally inevitable, nor is it totally NOT so.

3.       The setting of this reading is one of deep calm. At this moment of patience one KNOWS, without need of hope, that one is not importuning. The mood is need, not want, necessity without desperation.

It is therefore that one does not desire an outcome, nor is one biased when it DOES come, but rather one NEEDS an answer, and when one of SEVERAL* appears, it is a miracle.

*So many that one can’t have wanted it exclusively. So few that it was not inevitable or even probable.

If every answer is vague, just the very FACT that one can appear so specific is all ready not just improbable, but incredible.

Dm.A.A.

One can hold many biases, yet it is not inevitable that one shall rejoice when they’re full-filled, for after all some thing desired at one point in time might come when it’s least-

Needed. In the words of Isaac Brock:

‘You’re the loud sound of fun when I’m trying to sleep,’ etc.

Nor is it inevitable that a favoured item will appear at the same time as it is needed. Often it is only in well-integrated lives that Needs and Wants can so align. Such lives are not inevitable, given by Nature.

They must be CULTIVATED. If the tools to aid their cultivation are dismissed, the cultivation fails. Ergo it’s foolish to dismiss the superstitions that guide men towards greatness, either blaming fate (‘inevitability’) or greatness its self (the hubris of a man who thinks he did it all alone, his tools a mere placebo.)

For a King should heed the servant that predicts every Success and failure; it is probably the latter who does lead, and not the former. And if such a King would follow willingly, and if the path leads towards success without question, then let the servant then be venerated, and not sent away disgracefully.

Dm.A.A.

Now it would seem that yet again I speak in tautology, using an as-of-yet unwarranted conclusion as a warrant. Yet have I not warranted it? Now look again upon this question on ‘inevitability’. Even a GREAT man, whose appetites are no different from his needs, cannot GUARANTEE that he’ll receive the object of his appetites. The latter is quite likely, for he wants what he needs, nothing more. Yet WHEN shall needs be met? As regularly as he lusts? No. They are only met when the moment is opportune, and not when he would importune. So our Oracle remains consistent even as the heart might oscillate. It is a compass for the human heart. For lesser men it boggles them, refusing to accommodate their wants with such an obstinacy that mere chance would break under:

A testament to its intelligence. For common men, it serves them with that same intelligence, appearing quite miraculous. For great men, its efficiency grows with proportion to their greatness, thus becoming even more miraculous and never getting over-

Shadowed by the greatness of the man.

To praise the man and not his Oracle is to attempt to over-

Shadow it, a futile gesture, as its improbably gifts rival his own will in direct proportion.

Dm.A.A.

All though we can insure that a great man’s desires coincide with his needs, by virtue of his own greatness, we CANNOT determine, by that same greatness alone, that either need or desire, and thereby both, (for they are one for him,) shall be full-filled.

If they are full-filled, it can only be by virtue of the metaphysical miracle. As his virtue grows, this miracle grows more generous, yet all so it remains a matter of the proper timing; it is simply that these proper times become more frequent.

Dm.A.A.

Aphorisms.

Many women say, “no. I can’t.” But mine would say either “I will” or “I won’t”. Dm.

To the degree I care, to that degree I can't let go my grudge. the moment I stop caring, I stop being angry. And then I can hate in peace and love freely. Dm.

A Meaningful Joy: A Tale of Meaning and Joy.

I want only to enjoy myself, yet in a MEANINGFUL way. As it turns out, this is more expensive than the meaningless life.

All ways distrust those who tell you that you do not DESERVE your happiness, but that you have to think of others. This is arrogant to treat as Universal; it only applies to certain situations. A great yogi once was asked: How shall we treat others? His reply was: there are no Others. He did not mean this solipsistically, but rather to remind his students of the mutual relationship between the Other and the Self.

How funny that the same men who deny this Mutuality are all so those who would end up betraying us.

There is no refuge they can find in vengeful leveling, insisting that YOU hurt them FIRST. For what then of all of those Spirits who encouraged you to live life to its fullest? Did you ever hurt THEM? No, for you meant well, and THEY were without ego. Simple. Think not on the vengeful hypocrites, therefore, who undermine your happiness with moral preaching but then sabotage your plans by seeking THEIR self-interest, insisting one moment that you are wrong for feeling happy and the next that all they wanted had been happiness. Even in that last strain they rob you of your peace, for they insist that YOUR sorrow was justified, all ways, by THEIR pursuit of joy. Why else would they have thought to segregate the two?

The man who alienates Other, PRIDING himself in his SERVICE to it, is secretly trying all ways to supplant it. When he speaks of joy, either in condemnation of it or its celebration, he speaks of the evil joy that comes at SOME ONE ELSE’S expense. Yet YOURS is not so, however he may insist it is.

[Camera illuminates Doctor from Nestor’s perspective, Phoenix standing behind with crossed arms.]

YOUR joy is pure, because you lead by an example that the world can follow if it pleases. If it does not please, you can’t be blamed for being a trail-blazer.

Yet the scoundrel who would blame you for their envy breeds an other kind of joy.

It is the kind that is competitive; if he succeeds, you cannot follow. Thus the interpenetration of all beings is damaged by his own folly. Take no blame off of his shoulders for this.

Simply take back what is yours: Your will and courage. Guilt and shame shall be for him, but not for you. You are the victim, and he is the villain. Now become the Hero.

Dm.A.A.

An Older Reciprocity.

An Older Reciprocity:

There is a girl. She loves to touch people, but hates to be touched. Is she ‘wrong’? Of course not. Hurry: before it’s too late, perish all thought of treating others how YOU would like to be treated, or of treating them how they treat you. Focus instead on treating them how THEY want to be treated, and for Heaven’s sake, have the generosity to presume that they have that same focus. You have not in common with them all your preferences, yet you might have in common with them that intent. Make that distinction, for to hold them to THAT standard is a world above the standard you would hold them to otherwise.

That presumption, that they mean well, you can make. That they prefer what you prefer, do not presume.

They would PREFER that you presume upon the former, not the latter, whether or not YOU’D prefer that too, and if you do prefer it, know that that might very well be where your kinship of preference ENDS. Presume no further; only guess.

If she would touch you and you like it, do not think that she prefers to be touched. For she did not treat you as SHE wanted to be treated, but as YOU did. Nor presume that you can simply treat her as you would prefer to be treated; she has all ready now made you her locus; if you make YOURSELF your locus, and not her, then you will be self-centred, and therefore insensitive.

If she would touch you and you DON’T prefer it, you must let her know, even if you would rather keep this silent. For only then will she know that she had erred, and only then can she revise her attitude.

Again: presume not that her attitude entitles you, for she treats you not as she would prefer but rather as she guesses at your OWN preference. Nor treat her as you’d prefer, for just as there’s a chance she does NOT want her touch to be reciprocated, so there’s a chance that she DOES. Learn which is which, for she may not reciprocate your own timidity, and would prefer thus to be touched.

When others please you, be grateful. If they are not pleased by reciprocation, note your error, for they pleased you out of empathy for you, whereas you displeased them out of ego. Reciprocity is not a standard. People who do ‘good’ just to receive it on exchange are on a lower level altogether. To treat others as one wants to be treated, with hope of a reward, is all ways damaging.

When others wrong you, forgive them.

And then correct them, for your pardon matters little if you keep it secret. Don’t sllow them to keep erring;

It deceives them.

And finally: NEVER presume that if a woman touches you that that ENTITLES you to touch her. You may touch her once, to learn if she prefers it. But beyond that you are governed by her answer. Know that she reciprocates this same consideration, as it would adapt to YOUR preferences.

And to the man who treats you without that regard, whether or not he wants that treatment in exchange, seek not vengeance by either giving him what he wants, which had wronged you, or what he does not, even were it right FOR you.

Simply do not treat such people. They are not worth your time spent.

Dm.A.A.

A Tale of Tarot.

A Tale of Tarot:

Today I read my Tarot cards online.

Reading them I thought of the first two times I’d tried this. By that I refer to my first readings.

The former I can recall more clearly, of course, of the two, yet both I would have preferred, and I would gladly have traded for either. This is not a testament to the ‘inefficiency’ of the cards; in fact, I do not even say the word ‘yet’, for it is no cause even for irony. It is not that *I* simply am unsatisfied by them; beginning with the Devil, and including Death and other omens, this third reading was ubiquitously dark. Nor is it either TOO dark to be valid, for it was in fact a sleepless desperation that had brought me to such dire straits. The very fact that I would trade this reading for either of those that past is evidence now of the cards’ validity. I have had too few readings to dismiss this one as just ‘generic’, yet I’ve had too many, just as well, to think its meaning interchangeable.

Ironically, the very LONGING to exchange this fate for prior fates is what precludes its interchangeability; were all fates interchangeable, they would be equal, and the longing would be absent. Placebos invariably make us feel good, but omens take a long time to get used to; often they are bitter medicine.

What stands out most: the Death card, which is set apart subtly by the Scorpio symbol [with]in its bottom corner.

This symbol seems inextricable from the cards’ theme, and both my Scorpio obsession and the consequent (or contingent) theme of re-

Birth are quite the reasons that I chose the Tarot for this night, though they by no means are inevitable to whomever chooses them. (This is again, of course, to Tarot’s credit, for it’s clear that the conditions for this visit were here represented by the cards themselves, though not each visit gets this representation, and one done in more frivolous spirit would have yielded probably a less heavy card.). Then looms the first card, that of Devil, and its mark is Capricorn, corroborating my suspicions that the Goat of the Zodiac and the Goat-shaped Archfiend are related. Even in my enter-

Prise, I worry for the sanctity now of my Soul. I can’t deny it; I am taking risks I had not often taken, and the Stress is such that I have importuned upon the I Ching, only to receive the same warning time and again: that I am a Wanderer, and I must show respect to forces alien. The third card to hold my attention in my memory now is that of an austere goddess. Under the main description for it is a note for males, pertaining to relationship of an erotic nature. The description as a whole corroborates my hopes in the Occult, but it all so depicts my fears with its stark ambiguity, a vagueness not to its discredit so much as to my bemusement.

Of the present it is breath-taking in its precision; of the future, it remains a mystery.

I followed up my reading with an other visit to the I Ching. I think now on how this Oracle, the cards, all so discourages obstinate use. A scientist would scoff, yet to his discredit, for such a mockery would only serve to remind us how callous science really is, sapping resources so relentlessly that little can be found and then dismissing the whole project for its ‘inconsistency’. No oracle should have to tolerate constant, repetitive examination, for it has to deal then only with impatience and with artlessness.

As it turns out, enough had changed since my last I Ching reading that a fresh set of six lines, unmoving as the last, greeted me and gave me some joy.

The hexagram was 48: the Well. The story I know well: a prince comes home to marry, is rebuked by his own wife-to-be, but when she learns who he is all becomes resolved.

The omen is bright, but its meaning deeper. It invites us to examine the Well of our psyches. So I set pen to paper to record what little I could still remember from the dreams of the last two nights. In truth, ‘still’ is a misnomer, for even upon waking I

Knew that I would remember little; there was not much to be lost, so no surprise to find what had not been lost to be ‘still’ available. Still, it had helped to set these sparse accounts to paper. Even now a darkness and a glory colour my writings as I’ve not seen for several years. And now I understand why all my bullies criticise it; they had quaked before it.

And it was a power greater than my own.

Pity that they should blame me for it, as though to my credit in Resentiment.

And I suppose the Tarot cards were all ready the first step down the Well.

Dm.A.A.

[After I wrote this I took my dog for a walk. It was near Witching Hour. I beheld a sky of stars, naked as man’s first light of consciousness, the gems embedded twinkling in primordial blue that science had not yet made gray of tint. And as we strolled down the street, my dog’s nose to the ground, his leg rising at each stop, my eyes continued to gaze upwards, and I then glimpsed a shooting star fall like a needle flashing in the patchwork quilt between two of the glowing pebbles. It was falling. And its light was a pale yellow.]

Dm.A.A.

The Parasitic Farmer.

The Parasitic Farmer.

I think of just how sinister symbols can be.

Some young, self-righteous, self-entitled farmer tries to justify starvation of a populace whilst a large class of hicks go line-dancing on weekends. And he does this by equating ‘grain’ with ‘property’, then imitating Neo-liberal social justice rhetoric, as though HE were the victim, even in potential, or as though potential victimhood prevented could then justify actual victimhood perpetuated. And the whole thing is this gross display of statistical alienation that reminds me of the wannabe magicians that I knew and how they could not even tell the space between the symbol and reality. There was a time when Shamans ruled these lands and grain belonged to Earth. But now this young hick bastard will arrange his title deeds to other’s lives like cards within his Magic: The Gathering deck: designed to dominate with Fascistic precision. All the privilege of working for a living in a country of the Plenty and the Wasteful. And he tells me we can’t have it any other way because he went to China with the military and he saw a kid get run over and over the course of an hour no one had come by to help him.

And I all most thought to ask: why don’t YOU help him? Do you live in such fear of your getting SHOT that you would not defy the sterile symbol of an ‘order’?

Some adult YOU are. Some great defender of our peace and of THEIR freedom. Fascist bastard.

Dm.A.A.

The Other One.

The Other One.

Those who deny the obvious simply hold knowledge of the depths. The surface of the obvious is shaped all ways by hidden depths, and those who are familiar with these depths know many of the REASONS why the TRUTH remains obscure. It’s kept that way, and not without due cause. They too keep it that way, communicating wordlessly across the gap, employing words unsaid and lines resting between the lines.

When I added this sex-pot chick on facebook I knew not what she knew about astrology. She simply added me, and soon a re-post in my Newsfeed, made by her, informed as to sexual stereotypes for all the signs. Yet it was not she that had sent the request, but I. And when I did I knew nothing of her approval of the Zodiac; my eyes were on her eyes and lips.

Despite my growing burden of a crush on #######, I got off to this new girl’s photo posts alone. I pictured my self bragging, in a manner much too country for my force of habit, to some dude about how I had spent a week with her, fucking her at every opportunity, in every way imaginable to the common decency, with games and plots abounding and a sentimental parting by the end of it.

I all most did not want to believe she was a Scorpio. It makes me think of the time I could have guessed that Hosfield was a Scorpio, but chose not to, for fear he might be. Back then, I deplored Scorpio too much to conceive of him as one. By now, I venerate Scorpios too much to think I’d thought of using one so tactlessly. It was not that she did not line up to the label, in a manner that would complement Hosfield’s apparent living past it. She was, I could see, ‘good enough’ for my veneration. But that made me think of ####### again, and of my mission.

So let me be clear: that I was prepared to accept this girl REGARDLESS of what sign she had, so all bias was gone. No confirmation bias could have happened. Yet in the back of my MIND, I had my suspicions, and she was the first one to get my mind off of #######. So you can imagine just how sweet and bitter it was to learn that she was, in fact, a Scorp. I did not hesitate to tell her. And I asked her for advice regarding #######.

Remember that I did not know this sex-pot’s sign, nor even that she HAD a sign, in the sense that she thought much of astrology. Nor should one dismiss her posts as merely trivial; both its occult and sexual character accorded with her Scorpio nature, and a violent skeptic would not have re-posted it. (Keep in mind that I say this only unto violent skeptics, in my self-defense, for they tend to forget that sex-pots can be just as violent and as skeptical as they themselves are.)

No. What it was that lured me into this young mother’s domain was probably the Eyes. And so it was that I saw [and I mean HAD SEEN, for I refer here to my crush and not this new girl:] #######’s eyes and I KNEW she was a Scorpio, and she knew that I was a Pisces.

Neither that meeting nor this one were matters of mere chance and whim. And one would surely serve the other, if I chose my words with tact.

Dm.A.A.

Dream T:

Dream T:

This one was even more faded upon my waking.

This makes sense; each night I unlock some part of myself, digest it, and then wholly Let It Go. Upon waking the visual was this time a hexagram with one changing line. The changing line represented Scorpio, *******, and heroin.

Is ******* my heroine, then? Or just my addiction? The one changing line transformed into a needle.

Most of these three dreams felt natal,

Yellow like the song ‘Cleo’ by Built to Spill.

It was only after some time into the day that memories began to bloom like flowers sprouting from concrete.

The dream definitely was set in part in Poway, at the Fabric Store Emporium, and part near college, at a tournament that led us yet again into a grand hotel.

All so again I climbed the dark play-

Ground, at night after fleeing some institution. Each time that I dream now it gets easier. What is it now that practice is now making perfect? Music? Women? Love?

I.A.L.:

This morning feels Venutian. Pumpkin had a good walk. And Maria was actually nice to me. She and Nina were going to buy food for the latter’s brother, Ezra. I wonder if Nina is a Taurus.

Dm.A.A.

Tale of the Star-Crossed Water-Signs.

Tale of the Star-Crossed Water-Signs.

It takes courage to act against some one that you do not know, but cowardice to act against some one you DO know. And this courage is corroborated by the fact that you owe him no loyalty. And this cowardice is substantiated by the fact that you DO owe HIM your loyalty.

If she has been reading me, our interests are mutual. She may be startled then by what she finds, but she ought not to be surprised. I would predict thus startlement, but not surprise. I don’t equate these two, so think not that I second-guess her feelings. If I wanted to dictate them, I would dictate this same paradox.

If she has NOT been-reading me, I have an easy conscience and a guiltless record.

In the former case, my alchemical antidote is shamelessness, for I all ready have my blamelessness.

If our love is mutual, all that I’ve said then has been sweet, suggestive, and persuasive. This has not been by default, but rather by my efforts to accord with cosmic powers. And of her beau, I can but think of him as just an other loser and consumer, like in dignity in these hard times to the man who betrayed me, not the victim that had been betrayed. My Heart informs me of this. I shan’t doubt its portents again. Other hearts are merely thoughts to me. My own heart is enough.

Within the latter case, my antidote is fearlessness and patience. Knowing how to value one, I do not overdrink the other. They temper each other. So long as I’m fearless, this long wait will end in valour, not in bland avoidance. So long as I’m patient, this same fearlessness won’t turn to arrogance that tries to end the wait too soon.

My blameless shamelessness reminds me of a part of the dream that had been hidden, until now, many times. It takes place in my back-yard. Here all ways boundaries merged between my own back-yard and neighbours’ yards.

It’s time to tear down all the walls.

The I Ching has predicted this. Walls meant to block will be torn down. I must full-fill this.

What has the I Ching NOT yet predicted?

Only time shall tell.

I dare not importune.

This blog is my back-yard.

If she would favour me, she shall know soon.

If she would not, she shall know later.

I can wait. Like Richard Shelton from Stevenson’s masterpiece, the Scorpio pursuing his Piscean maiden.

I know MY maiden shall appreciate this.

The Empire never fell. Even within an age of ‘freedom’, social pressures obligate a woman to take on a mate for pure convenience. This modest every-man can’t know what she has to offer. He wants control over the uncontrollable. He wants a token of her own affection rather than a token of her passion. He wants her to have her, publically, but he cannot comprehend her privately.

If I had ever been this way, it was a lack of love that made me desperate.

Yet he has love abounding. Look at me.

I am alone. Yet I have passion. I respect the passions. I respect the Woman.

I shall only hide her name from lesser men. Not from herself; she will infer her own identity, even if I must fight off the false self-entitlement of would-be suitors. (If I have such.)

I hope you are reading this now.

But if you are not, it matters not.

As one Scorpio psychologist taught me, we are happy when we don’t get what we want.

So if I have to wait, know that I have the gift of patience.

If I NEED you, and not merely want you, we shall be together.

And the Oracle assures us of that,

Too.

Dm.A.A.

Invest a dose:

Icy

Problem.

Dm.A.A.

Aphorisms:

If you steal from people, they will only call it theft, it seems, if they all ready hate you. If they do not, they just might call it borrowing indefinitely, and they’ll pride themselves in their own generosity much more than if you’d asked them for the help.

Dm.A.A.

If a cat is dying of pneomonia, the doctors warn that he might not survive the anaesthetic process they deem necessary for a cure. Their statements would suggest that it's the cat's own fault, for he's too weak to handle their reality. In fact, they have admitted NOT that without this same process he will die of his pneumonia, but rather that the process in its SELF might kill him. So which is the weaker of the two? The patient or the treatment?

Dm.A.A.

Dream Q:

Dream Q:

I.                    At this sort of bizarre gathering that was the setting of this dream I ended up playing a new card game with an intimidatingly well-adjusted group of young people. I nearly won, but folded at the last moment (folded as in a folding chair folds, not a poker-player.).

My last move came. I had a four. I had a Joker. I passed, deciding JUST TO WAIT, as I do in OTHER GAMES, for a five, so that I might only then play down the four. It was only mere moments after I had past that I saw that I lost my opportunity, and mere moments later a MORE SEASONED player took it.

Kinky.

The truth was that I could have used the Wild Card as a Five, and then I could have just played down my four.

Yet having seen the four, ALONE, I QUICKLY DISMISSED it as IMPOSSIBLE, proceeding to examine my Joker SEPARATELY. I suppose the ‘Joke’ had been on ME that time. It was analogous to my analysis the preceding evening of how elaboration causes us to grow one-sided as seeing opposites that had been taken to extremes unsettles us with Cognitive Dissonance in proportion to our egoes. The winning stroke, a rookie victory, would have been a paradox, but in my insecure one-sidedness, precluding the ‘impossible’ by focusing on only one item at a time, and not both at once, I lost the chance to PROVE THEM ALL WRONG. People hate to be up-staged; I know this.

II.                 It seems as though this whole sequence of the dream was a sort of game-show set in one of those kids-arcades, except for adults.

After playing cards with the youngsters, I joined a group of OLDER PEOPLE, less attached to the passions of Nature, and more settled, but no less daring. The host described to us the challenge: to consume a caustic acid which he went in greater detail to describe.

When it was brought out, it turned out to be no more than a large, orange bottle of hot sauce. I asked a fellow contestant, a portly chef fashioned after Tom, if this would be much hotter than his own salsa, which I Knew, as IN Actuality, that I could handle. He replied, frowning with characteristic diligence: “OH, yeah.”

I might have ended up staying away from that PARTICULAR challenge.

III.               ******* had appeared within this one. I remember having to leave the room to contemplate the salsa: would I dare to try it? By then I’d all ready seen her, quite peripherally. There was an unspoken intimacy between us, one that skeptics may bewail but that a quiet heart will all ways find evidence for before long. It was meant-to-be, but yet there loomed the danger of our paths remaining parallel, uncrossing.

As I made my way back in through a familiar tunnel not unlike the walk-in SHARK TANK in the Baltimore Aquarium, I saw her pass me on her way out. I suppose she’d tried the salsa, and that she was either on her way to the next challenge or the nearest water-fountain. (Sexy.)

We exchanged polite helloes, per chance confined to glances that could be expressed in feelings if not words. And I felt tempted to attempt the salsa challenge.

Dm.A.A.

Hexagram Fifty-five: three instances.

“Daily Hexagrams: Part three. (of the three delayed replies.)

To be clear, these replies were not delayed upon my asking, nor did I ask them too soon. The former is impossible; the latter I’ve transcended. These were simply posts that I had meant to make last week but chose to wait, as forces (and wits) gathered.

Hexagram Fifty-Five: Abundance.

This one recurs. Three times I’ve seen fit yet to write it down. My blog is my transcryption of the contents of my private journal.

Bless.

Dm.A.A.”

I.                   Hexagram 55: Abundance.

Changing Lines:

1.       He meets his soul-mate, and they couple cease-

Lessly for ten days.

NO MISTAKE.

This union will CHANGE WORLDS.

6.  In his large and splendid house, no friends or family dwell.

He sees no one pass through his gate for three years.

Misfortune.

Hexagram 56: The Wanderer.

“Only a man who is inwardly free of sorrow and care can lead in a time of abundance. He must be like the sun at midday, illuminating and gladdening everything under heaven.”

“A wanderer has no fixed abode; his home is the road. Therefore he must take care to remain upright and steadfast, so that he sojourns only in the proper places, associating only with good people. Then he has good fortune and can go his way unmolested.”

II.                Okay Computer. Okay Oracle.

Tell me now:

When shall I see her?

By what avenue?

Has she been reading or ignoring me?

It seems of little consequence.

Yet shall I continue posting, for the day she does read?

Dm.

Hexagram 5.

Changing lines:

2.     Taking your post in the sand, ceaselessly watching the far shore for enemy movements, you must endure the taunts and contempt of your comrades.

Good fortune in the end.

4.     The enemy is upon you.

You wait in blood, preparing yourself for their blows; but your own ability can see you through, if you stand your ground and maintain balance.  

5.     You smile and join the banquet,

Relaxing and gaining perspective, yet vigilant and prepared for the next onslaught.

Such genuine grace under pressure ensures victory and good fortune.

Hexagram 55:

“When clouds rise in the sky, it is a sign that it will rain. There is nothing to do but wait till after the rain falls. It is the same in life when destiny is at work. We should not worry and seek to shape the future by interfering in things before the time is ripe. We should quietly fortify the body with food and drink and the mind with gladness and good cheer. Fate comes when it will, and thus we’re ready.”

  

III.             Okay. I need her. How shall I proceed?

More posts? The album?

A surprise visit?

Constant research?

Slander and gossip?

Guide me.

Dm.

Hexagrams 55 and 62.

Changing line:

1.       He meets his soul-mate, and they couple ceaselessly for ten days.

No mistake.

This union will change worlds.

Hexagram 62: Lying Low.

“There is no profit to striving here.

To be content with oneself is the greatest success imaginable.

The enlightened person has nothing to prove to himself or others, and thus may always operate from a position of sincerity, with no pretense or posturing.

His humility is guileless simplicity.

His mourning is selfless compassion.

His frugality is an unshakeable faith that he is but a conduit, letting what is needed flow through him to others, with no loss to himself.”

Dm.A.A.

San Diego's Corporate 'Carcentrism'.

San Diego's Corporate 'Carcentrism'.

So I don't know if may be I'm just biased against cars. Yet there is some thing overwhelmingly deceptive in the stance that San Diego's READER takes on them.

Not only is this publication sketchy to begin with. There's no section for Opinionated Editorials, for instance. This means that critics of its rather corporate writing -- ranging from the hegemonic to the asinine -- can only voice their complaints over an Internet Blog.

Aside from that, it's obvious that any publication for the San Diegan that can be distributed for free can only be aimed at two halves of one audience:
Consumers and Businessmen.*

* I know it's not politically correct of me to say 'man'. Would you rather have me say 'swine'?

As a good card player hides his hand, I shall spare you the philosophy (this time).

All I shall say is that we're living in a Culture of Convenience. This topic is one I have written about yet not published. A formal elaboration is due, for an other time.

Yet here we can find evidence that I cannot ignore:

- Every Advertisement I've yet found WITHIN the magazine offers a sort of monetary compensation or reward, including in some cases absurd promises of refund in event of failure.

'Satisfaction guaranteed' indeed.

- There is a page devoted to a 'hipster' trying to determine if a girl should or should not 'dump' her boy friend whose position on the 'tipping' institution echoes that of Mr. Pink from RESERVOIR DOGS.



A sample of the underlined include:

"At first, I thought he had great prospects, because he is polite, funny, and NOT TOO HARD on the eyes."

"[He] Doesn't tip BECAUSE THE REST OF THE WORLD DOESN'T..."

"I needed my tips to AUGMENT MY MEASLY WAGES."

"The Millenial generation (which is 40-90 percent hipster, DEPENDING ON WHOM YOU ASK..."

"Hipsters/millenials are also the group that ENSHRINED casual dining as a social function..."

"We might even be moving toward the point where tipping CEASES TO MAKE SENSE..."

"Perhaps he's JUMPING THE GUN (TIPPING IS CUSTOMARY, DESPITE ITS FLAWS)..."

"... but don't let a DUBIOUS CONVENTION come between you, your lovers, and your friends."

- To top it all off is this enticing (read 'enraging') cover titled (and quite self-entitled) 'Stop the Irrational Bike Bias.'

Sub-titled:
'The case for car-centric planning.'

For once, allow me to perform a Vonnegut and jump ahead to part of this laborious, be-labored article that *I* found most depriving and depraved:

'Transit uses a lot more energy per passenger-mile than driving, yet they still put transit above automobiles.'

Upon first trying to read this article I had to tread carefully through all of the muck, but THIS Orwellian turn of phrase was a QUAGMIRE. Despite my fears of sinking I had to spend a few minutes taking it apart. It's meaning is nebulous, deceptive, and statistically remote as any meaning you could find in corporate journals.

One INTERPRETATION of the phrase in question is that we compiled the data that included all the city bus routes, based on either polling or surveillance, took the gross number of passengers (as opposed to the NUMBER of GROSS passengers [See Img. below]) and divided by them all the gas expenses and electrical expenses shared by Transit Company and City.



Now, of course, this rhetoric is for the bird brains. It is furthermore for some one who's forgotten HOW A BUS WORKS.

A bus or train has a set route.

Let's use the San Diego Sprinter, for instance. Each day, several times, this train takes fifty-something minutes to transport its patrons from Escondido to Oceanside, granted they do not get off at one of several stops along the way. Of course, the train is not substantially DELAYED by passengers who get on or get off; it's simply that not ALL its passengers USE all that MILEAGE.

Now, for five dollars, I can ride Sprinter any time within the day I spent the money.

I could go from CSUSM to Palomar and back five times or so. Or I could go from San Marcos to Vista (if I have a death-wish; I hate Vista.). But my point is that, at either rate, I only need five dollars for the WHOLE, ENTIRE DAY. There are no limits within reason for the 'passenger-hours' I get, and I can spend this time however I might choose or need.

Now let's look at this SAME train from the city's economic perspective.

Each day, every day, the train conforms to just ONE solitary route, back and forth. There are plenty Sprinter trains, in fact, so you can catch one at your station every half-hour. Each day, the train spends quite the SAME amount of energy. This permits us to plan AROUND it economically.

If the expenditure for energy gets all too high, we can just raise the fee. If the output of energy poses some sort of threat, we can use fewer trains and change the train schedule.

Now here's the point: Passenger-hours vary, and DEPENDING ON THE PASSENGERS. If twenty passengers go cruising from Esco to O-side one day, we can take the energy expended and divide it then by twenty. This would be a LARGER number than the one we get if FORTY people take the SAME EXACT ROUTE.

By the principle of fractions, our statistic would be halved. This means that the phrase 'energy per passenger-mile' is wholly arbitrary in its application; it is meaningless. If Forty people want to ride the train one day, and they ride all the way, the train uses just as MUCH energy as if half of that crowd had opted out of it instead. The train would make twice the money, but only if all forty in plan A bought day-passes, and only if all twenty in plan B decided not to spend money at ALL on N.C.T.D. Transportation that same day. All so, if some guy bought a day-pass for five dollars, planning to go up to Oceanside, but met a pretty girl along the way and got off with her at her stop at Palomar (in some sort of 'Before Sunrise' scenario), the  train would STILL have made five dollars, it would STILL have spent all of that energy, and yet BECAUSE THAT PASSENGER DECIDED to travel a shorter route, there was a LESSER quantity of 'passenger-hours', and therefore, statistically, a GREATER 'energy per passenger-mile'.

If the DENOMINATOR (passenger-miles) of a fraction is made lesser, but the NUMERATOR (energy) remains the same, the fraction's higher. This all so means that if the writers for the READER want to get MORE passenger-hours per energy they should encourage there to BE MORE PASSENGERS.



Yet this is quite the OPPOSITE of what they do.



'Irrational bias', indeed.

This article, entitled the 'case for car-centric planning', does not seem to really HAVE a case, except for a head-case.

Further complaints I have are more or less what you'd expect. You can see for yourself. The article is childish, even infantile, pointing fingers in imitation of democracy, just like the ignoramus who in childhood asked 'why do we HAVE to learn this?' but in adulthood never bothered to find an answer.

For those of you who had the deep misfortune of being-debaters, give it up now for a LINE-BY-LINE!: (all caps are mine.)

1. 'Despite the machinations of government and strident voices of "alternative transportation" advocates, CARS STILL RULE.'



Despite the use of a few big words, you sound like you're caught between a Hot Wheels commercial and an elementary-
School level Battle of the Sexes.

2. 'But there are dissenters, those who contend that cities should be car-centric, because that's WHAT AMERICANS PREFER'.
I know that some of you out there in Memeland like to invoke 'Godwin's Law', but:



Honestly, as a Jew myself, I am insulted when some proto-
Fascist tells me that I CAN'T use Hitler as an argument, as though one man could be a fallacy simply because MOST men know little of him.
And oh, yeah. He WAS democratically elected.

3. 'Despite the HYPE HEAPED ON OTHER MODES OF TRANSPORT Americans appreciate the right that the automobile has wrought on the Republic.'

Oh, yeah: did I mention that Ford was a Nazi?



True story bro. Besides: What kind of 'Right' are we discussing? If it's 'wrought', and not by Nature so much as by a MACHINE, it's hardly inalienable, RIGHT?



I mean: Our 'rights' were ostensibly endowed by some creator. Does that make Ford GOD, as in Aldous Huxley's BRAVE NEW WORLD?



4. 'Lots of cars and no bikes on Harbor Drive, at Grape Street.'



Twenty-five and I know that you can do better. If I took a picture of Lance Armstrong or some Russian winning a bike race and wrote 'Lots of bikes and no cars', you'd scoff at me. Yes: Bikes are a minority. Take that how you will, either as a concession or a further argument. It works both ways. The fact is that nothing could be EASIER for you to do than to find a photo opportunity in mid-day down-town traffic where no bicycles are present. But there ARE bikes OUT there. May be cyclists just know to stay away from traffic and news cameras. Plus they tend to pass by SWIFTLY. But I can't complain too much, if I am to-be-generous. After all: This photo is not ENTIRELY car-
Biased; there's a F*CKING BUS RIGHT IN IT.

Thank you for reminding us that PUBLIC TRANSIT HAPPENZ.

5. 'I spoke to another think-
Tanker, Baruch Feigenbaum of the Reason Institute, which, like Cato, champions the libertarian ideal of the laissez-fairs economy.'



I would like to thank the author, Mr. Gropen, for using the first-person pronoun.

It really sets the mood as very intimate as he proceeds to BULL-DOZE all the opposition with his liberation propaganda.

What's wrong with liberty? Only the tendency to use it to limit its self. And that is what we see here. Only unlike Sartre's notion of Bad Faith, the freedom limited here is NOT that of the limiter.



Libertarian economics are what Charles Reich calls the first tier of American consciousness. It's America's sweet, selfish, irresponsible childhood. It is competitive in Nature. It RESISTS the NATURAL progression of a people from DIS-unity towards unity, a latter stage which is in turn transcended to create a SELF-RESPONSIBLE HUMAN BEING.



The 'freedom' offered by the laissez-faire is all ways competitive; freedom AT THE EXPENSE of an OTHER. It does not matter if our education seems 'biased against' the laissez-faire. The very fact that libertarians roam from an early age shows us that there STILL are libertarians who can't imagine FREEDOM that is not at the EXPENSE of some MINORITY.



Libertarianism, in its extreme, is either anarcho-capitalism or Rapture from BioShock.



I WOULD show you what ANARCHO-CAPITALISM looks like, but I'm not in the habit of down-
loading things from the deep Web. For those of you who do not know: NEVER download from the Deep-Web! You honestly MIGHT end up next on a list of victims due to be killed in 'snuff-films' that are made for entertainment.



Zoinks and Jenkies.

Any way: coming back to ordinary life, we see that Mr. Gropen and friends are oscillating between what Reich calls 'Consciousness I' and 'Consciousness II'.
On one hand, they defend the 'liberties of the common American' (that is: 'your individual choice matters, so long as you're one of us.').

On the other hand, they force us autophobes into the public ridicule for threatening the 'common good' as seen through the lens of corporate-state bureaucracy.



So basically the target audience here is children and adolescents, but NOT adults.

6. "I love trains, and I love cycling, but I try not to promote policies that ask other people to subsidize my hobbies."

As it turns out no one's telling you to scrap your car for parts to build more waterworks.

You can 'like' whatever you want. The question is of what you NEED. And 'needs' are not merely myopic short-terms goals.

If I wanted to beat my friends to Qualcomm stadium, a Lambourghuini would serve better than a bicycle. Whatever. If I ran my Lambourghuini OVER some one in my haste, my pedaling friends could say I NEEDED to have been more careful, as THEY were. It might have not been what I LIKED, but it was what my VICTIM and I NEEDED. If our friends don't care about the SELF-RESPONSIBLE AUTHORITY of some one who decides to go AGAINST THE GRAIN, what they are REALLY saying is:

'I love trains, and I love cycling, but I love cars more, and so f*ck people who love trains and cars.

It doesn't matter WHAT their reasoning is. Being-popular is more important than being-right, and if I run over a biker that's HER fault.'

It sounds exaggerated, but...:

7. "Where are auto/bike accidents actually taking place?
They're not taking place where a car overtakes a bike and hits it from behind; the vast majority happen at intersections."



I had a friend named Mike who liked to drive over the speed limit. His most hated people were those who drove UNDER the speed limit.

He called them what you might expect. Irresponsible. Selfish. Bad.
This was the guy who did not like arguments that used Hitler, too. If only he could understand the tendency that Fascists have to vilify an Other.



Fact is that this article does the same. Notice that it makes NO mention of bike-on-bike collisions. Why pass up such a fine opportunity? Because that sh*t just does not TEND to happen. Whereas Car-on-Car collisions, on the other hand:

'Hilarious' blooper? I think not.

8. "The only people who might be smugger than cyclists are vegans," asserts O'Toole.



I'm not going to even TRY to take this comment seriously.

Apparently to be HUMBLE in Christian culture one must both eat animal products and drive an auto.

There goes my cardio. And my vegan lunch. From yesterday.

All in all, I've proven my point. If you want to see theatre worse than the Rocky Horror Picture Show, the San Diego Reader is for you.

And while I'm at it:

Fuck cars.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0ZMauqib7Q

Dm.A.A.