Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Off my chest again Blizzard Love/Hate relationship


What does it matter, a dream of love
Or a dream of lies
We're all gonna be in the same place
When we die

Nothing really matters,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me.
Any way the wind blows.

Is it going to matter in 5 years from now?

The subject here seems to be “mattering” innit?

Well matters or not it really bugs me and deflates me at times.

I mean I knew in my heart of heart that it was coming but still.

Am I talking about some great tragedy in life?

Or a death or an accident of some kind?

(Even though I’ve had both of those recently)

Nope.

I am talking about a “hobby” of mine.

If we can call 5757 hours a hobby now.

With the last 74 hours and 42 minutes spent/ wasted on their new necromancer.

The hobby/game for anyone who knows me is obviously Diablo 3.

THEY HAVE DONE IT AGAIN AS EXPECTED.

I KNEW IT. 

I had this sense of urgency to hurry before they kill it one more time but I should have been wiser in hindsight in my use of painfully and dreadfully slow gain of materials.
I had a humongous amount of mats before the necro  came out that I wasted trying to improve a set that is now USELESS again.  Not mentioning the effort it takes me to bring a character to a proper and decent 80 lvl Caldesaan.
A breeze for others maybe but hours and hours of grinding for me.
I just seem to invest

all these hours however on the wrong fucking horse every time.

I would have been better in hindsight to save all my level 80 gems and invest them on the Hammerdin

but the day I do that is the day Blizzard is going to nerf it to the ground as well.

It is extremely disheartening and discouraging to be knocked down your horse every time for no other reason that something is just working well.

It is a well-known fact that many CEO’s are psychotic and have no empathy whatsoever but it certainly must be a pre-requirement for developers as well to destroy one’s work, one’s aspirations, one’s dream with no empathy, no remorse, and no regrets and fuck forbid to change something back and re-establish it as it was when it was good.

I shouldn’t complain? I raised my personal best from GR82 to GR85
whoop tee fucking doo!

Not even enough to even qualify for the lowest 1000th rank on the leader board at 90 but I was happy and grinding slowly.

In good time I was aiming at maybe 90 

the 100 mark being always kept out of sight by the benevolent eye of Blizz for sure.

I am not a high level player by any means (Paragon 1390) I am way too fucking old but I keep on grinding and the hours alone placed me in the top 200 on a very early leader board and then I needed sleep.

ALSO having my own pace and rhythm I am almost exclusively a solo player which is a punishable crime for Blizzard even if though technically they suffer it reluctantly.
I was expecting this fully and I had a sense of urgency as I said that something was wrong because Blizzard from my experience does not keep something good unless it’s a wizard maybe they don’t mind those cheating away and getting away with murder.

There was nothing wrong AGAIN on the leader boards to justify such a whimsical and cruel act in the same manner that they fucked up a working WD.

So here it is: my worthless opinion which I am fully entitled to with the amount of hours I played and the 20 years I wasted on this crazy game: almost the only game I play and ever played btw; dabbled a bit with Overwatch at the AI lvl but that too is not really my cup of tea.

So keep doing it of course that’s what you do best: trashing people’s joys as if this was some sort of an S & M game for you guys.

In the meanwhile like a good addict I might see the light one day and get a detox from you toxic people. 

I would hope that enough people would quit for you to lose your destructive jobs and deprive you of your control freak power trips.

Constructive comments? 
I think not definitely not PC 
but true and real feelings.

In case it wasn’t evident this is my reaction to the violent nerfing to the ground of the Inarius set with your Mirinae mega nerf .

exactly the same same same thing you did with Helltooth
and the Ring of Emptiness not so long ago

You are nothing but predictable.

Finishing with a last song,
You always bring back Kenny Rogers to my mind
of all people for a reason LOL

You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille
With four hungry children
And a crop in the field
I've had some bad times
Lived through some sad times
But this time your hurtin' won't heal
You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille

After he left us
I ordered more whisky


Hater will Hate and Mockers will Mock and Trolls will Troll.

P.S. I don’t want my money back
I just wanted a game that works and is fun.

Speaking of which you wisely chose the Euro exchange over the U.S. exchange on the Aussie dollar to squeeze an extra 2 bucks. Well done.

P.P.S. You STILL can’t work a decent density in GR’s
Here was something that REALLY needed fixing.
Leave your abacus behind and start doing proper maths.
Monsters per square yard is a very SIMPLE number.


P.P.P.S. In the meanwhile like a good addict I might see the light one day and get a detox from you toxic people.   

OR

Move on to a new drug!
Maybe this Old Dog can learn a new trick :)

Path of Exile here I come 
Come What May! 
I'm a POE man from now on

So maybe it was the last straw Blizzard 
after 20 years 
this camel's back is broken

Thursday, July 6, 2017

"The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog"

“I am just a brown woman who speaks my mind”




What a LOADED statement!
Without knowing anything else at all about the context I know we are in for some bullshit rhetoric diarrhoea.



1.       Let’s play the racist card right off the bat
2.      Let’s play the feminist card next to stack the deck and
3.      My favourite let’s use the infamous Freudian defence mechanism.

“I am just speaking my mind”
“I just say it as it is”

is mostly uttered by arrogant rude and obnoxious assholes.

For one thing anyone who had watched one of my favourite episode of Star Trek just KNOWS that ONE does NOT speak his or her MIND. Period. *

A mind is not meant to be spoken it is meant to be filtered and edited and analysed and concerned about the impact of one’s words on others.

The bishop in Alexandria was just “speaking” his mind on Hypatia, even using the good word to his nefarious end in the fictitious Agora.

It is so obvious in the very faces of people with such statements.

The hardness, the defensiveness, the arrogance and the literal ugliness of it all.

One who says such thing is usually single or lives with a partner with a banana for backbone or maybe an absolute Zen Saint. 
I mean Socrates’ wife was famous for speaking her mind too apparently, 
so are chimeras probably.

The world/ the Internet is full of such behaviour obviously being brought more and more into light by anonymity and by the abundance of words and wasted ones and zeros out there where at roughly 3 PM there are


3,673,769,286Internet users in the world today
145,922,242,150Emails sent today
3,089,789Blog posts written today
413,585,119Tweets sent today
3,300,253,256Google searches today



The stat said BTW that as of 2006, 200 million blogs were left without updates.
Considering blogs die faster than Europeans in the Great Plague it is a bit of a vain and hopeless task I admit.


So here it goes for today my 700 words on 10 little words juxtaposed.

“I am just a brown woman who speaks my mind”

Funny part is it was a short appearance on Facebook I can’t seem to retrieve now since my Facebook got very whimsical and capricious lately on what it will show me and in what order.  
I lost my ordering button on the left probably because I have too many blocks and restraints on Facebook to begin with LOL

Et Voila!






*Star Trek The Next Generation S07E08 28 February 1996 “Attached”
Beverly says the telepathic implants are connected directly to the brainstem, but Lorin says they're connected to the cerebral cortex. Given the localization of function in the human brain, an implant in the cerebral cortex would be more intuitive. The superficial location of the implants would suggest connection to the brainstem, which is a prime spot for inducing nausea. This ambiguity in neuroanatomy technobabble continues a Star Trek tradition of referring to the brain as the cerebral cortex even though it's just one (albeit large) area of the brain.»



Captain Jean-Luc Picard: I am not being unreasonable! 
Doctor Beverly Crusher: I didn't say that you were. I may have thought it, but there's a difference. 
Captain Jean-Luc Picard: I am not being unreasonable! 
Doctor Beverly Crusher: I didn't say that you were. I may have thought it, but there's a difference. 
Captain Jean-Luc Picard: Now that we know how... each of us feels, perhaps we should not be afraid to explore those feelings.
[Beverly kisses him on the cheek]
Doctor Beverly Crusher: Or perhaps we should be afraid.
Doctor Beverly Crusher: That is not funny!
Captain Jean-Luc Picard: I wanted to see if you were still listening.
Doctor Beverly Crusher: I'm... I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard: I'm beginning to realize that you always seem to have some... acerbic remark on the tip of your tongue.
Doctor Beverly Crusher: Well, at least I've trained myself not to *say* it anymore.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard: Isn't it astonishing though how much clutter there is in the consciousness?

Sunday, July 2, 2017

And so it goes...

Unedited and Raw as per Usual 

Thing is I believe that shit for so so long ‘tis sad. 
In hind sight well it seems just so errrr…

IRRATIONAL!

Some people say we are born atheists and I certainly get the point now.

I have been every thing and every colour of Christianity.

Born Catholic,

A zealous altar boy getting up at dark to go to mass daily and early to give me time to tie them 100 buttons on that long black robe at 6 years old or so.

A lapse Catholic as most of my generation, drunk and stone.
Then on August 12, 1976 after a short stay in a detox centre where I stayed one month of the required three and a very traumatic group therapy experience besides having nurse Ratched as my personal ‘psychologist”:

Monique Gravel still remember her name.

I met this young 14 year old “evangelist” and my world was turned upside down for years.

After hell broke loose over the past two months I jumped out of the frying pan straight into the fire of hell for all my best years to come.
2 months described here partly in my old blog

*Almost forgot this one How could I? 1976! Just out of detox centre. 10 PM or so, bored, listening to Supertramp nagging me to death.DREAAAAAAAMER you’re NOTHING but a DREEEEAAAAAMER...
Piss off Supertramp I’ll show you. Grab a pair of underwear and a t shirt in a very tiny Cojana plastic bag. Bus to the end of town and head to visit this “friend” I barely know 750 miles east. (Gaspe again)
Make it there after a long horrible trip knock at the door only to find out he’s gone to the North Coast. Don’t know his parents well enough so only one solution head back. I thought the trip was bad on my way down but coming back was life altering. Almost 3 in the morning, miles from nowhere, a wool hunting shirt drenched right through after 6 hours in the rain with nowhere to hide. Looking up to the dark sky and crying wondering what kind of a fool I am and if there is someone up there who could help me because nobody down here will. I wouldn’t even pick myself up for fear of ruining my back seat.
FINALLY, Finally a car stops and I am singing Hallelujah and so grateful for a little bit of heat and dryness. My joy is very short lived though. The man is dead drunk and driving at 100 miles an hour on a dark country road and right down in the middle of the road riding the white line and every time there is a car coming toward us I see the film of my life and have my hand ready to grab the steering wheel in case my wino doesn’t here. Well a very very long 10 minutes later he stopped at the next hotel. And I almost fall on my knees to thank God for still being alive and I don’t mind the wet and cold rain so much anymore all of a sudden all things considered. Get another short ride from a police car and they have to let me out since there is no handle on their back door. Stopped at the local prison to ask for shelter for the night and this time I am not as lucky as they kick me out. Anyway made it back “home” a very tired and humbled man.

I should not forget to mention that having spent May in a detox centre rejected by everyone before and during I ended up losing two apartments and one job in the short period leading to all this.  Ended up in a homeless shelter at the ripe age of 20 years old. So one night at the homeless shelter if I never told that one before I was turned back.  Let’s try to make this story coherent now.

That might be hard since my mind is getting less and less coherent but here it goes IIRC.
May at Domremy Detox centre in Ste-Genevieve west tip of Montreal island.

Lost 35 lbs in a month running around the compound 6 times daily with a trainer looking pale and concerned and checking my pulse at every round in case I carked it with a “Not on my shift please” look on his face.

Also winning B tournaments of table tennis (ping pong) and badminton. 

A “B” Tournament is a tournament of losers hahaha so I was the best of the losers. 
(they gather all the losers of the first round and make a new tournament just for them)

Al that while eating cafeteria style all you can eat ham and gravy and what not.
So errr where was I oh yeah May 1976 Domremy Montreal.

All my other addicts friends…

Let me make a pause here to describe what I remember as a not so great idea…
Homeless with no where to stay my dad could not take me my mother’s boyfriend didn’t really wanted me and he was the one suggesting that I follow his son’s steps and apply at this Detox Centre even though drugwise I was rather in a lapse at that time.

So as I was saying all my other addicts “colocs”/”colleagues” had a good and proper, properly trained with papers and all qualified psychologist …   Helene???

Where I the chosen of the gods got assigned a registered nurse who had read one comic book on psychology and decided it was my case.

The book was about carrying façade and she got the mission from god to destroy mine at all costs.  So she got up on her horse and started charging jousting with a naked and scared and not so chivalrous knight here.

At one group therapy where she was in charge she decided that today was the day and she leaded the group in an all-out assault of ramming poor me’s little façade apparently.
So they rammed and rammed and rammed at my castle gates mercilessly for what seem like hours but was probably just one hour and I sat there apparently serene and unshaken and solid as fuck.
When the last one got out and left the room and closed the door behind him I was still sitting there and I grabbed one of them cushions we were sitting on and cried all the tears of my body for a long long time sobbing and shaking and basically WHY WHY WHY and What the Fuck is so wrong with me.

My mistress was very proud of her achievement and sent me home early for reasons I don’t remember too well one of them being something like dependence on the centre FFS. Isn’t that what you are supposed to do?

So June and July I survived in an apartment with a Domremy’s alumni.

He fucked off I lost the apartment on Darling street and I remember being right next to the Olympic Stadium and see a poor bugger right up my street running a marathon with his white shorts stained with green shit …literally.

We used to meet each other for a drink or something ironically and as I was up on my way to meet another Domremy female friend for the umpteenth time I took a short cut across an Olympic parking and stopped and asked the young attendant for a cigarette. He did not have any but ended up preaching for the next 2 hours after which I went straight back home to ponder.



So apparently speaking of that memory of mine I am rambling again since it seems I have said most of this before with a different angle.


Anyway let’s get back to the religious journey

From zealous Catholic with masses in Latin and all

To a lapse Catholic

To an “evangelical Christian” August 12th 1976

To a Cult member zealous “Christian” protestantised and evangelicalised and cormierised to the core on October 12th 1976 to June 10th 1988 for the first run.

All of my twenties and when someone asked about the 80’s I usually joked that I was in jail for most of the 80’s and I missed most of them.

  • ·         12-10-1976           20           First Entry (Manic Episode)
  • ·         10-06-1978          22           1st Wedding
  • ·         01-05-1979          23           Gershom (Vermont)
  • ·         16-01-1982          26           Phoebe (Winnipeg)
  • ·         04-09-1983         27           Priscille-Eve (Montreal)
  • ·         1985                       29           Toronto
  • ·         10-06-1988         32           First Departure (Kids 9, 6, 4)
  • ·         March 1989         33           First time to see the kids in 9 months (9, 7, 5)
  • ·         24-08-89              33           Dad passed away
  • ·         June 1990            34           Second Entry
  • ·         June 1991            35           End of one year “probation”
  • ·         14-03-1992          36           Second Departure from the cult (Kids 12, 10, 8)


So what are the numbers now? Almost 12 years the first time 1 year 8 months or 10 months if you count from August 12th. Let’s say 12 years and 8 months for now.

2 years “break” without really breaking in mind and spirit.

1 year and 9 months consisting of one year of probation at the Berube’s and 9 months of “marital” life without the kids living with us and with hardly seeing them at all with one or two supervised meal IIRC.

So the utter slavery lasted like 16 years and 5 months even though it continued for many years after one does not heal that quickly. 14 years and 5 months on indoctrination and blackmail do not help.
I thought I had had 10 years of “freedom” LOL but now I realised it was only 9 years.

5 years of what I called “bread and water” with no relationships at all

All I remember is nightmares… the dreams were that we were all back together as a happy family mum dad and kids and all… the nightmares were waking up to the sad reality that it wasn’t so.

And 4 years of “sowing my wild oats” double LOL

Ending up in Australia in September 2001 memorable date despite the delays in flights.


The only date I don’t remember really is the date I “became” an atheist.

I was baptised 4 times, FOUR TIMES.

Once as a baby twice in the cult Easter 1977? And another time much later after a relapse. 
And once again here at the Church of Christ along with Sue which she reminds me of regularly LOL. (November 2002?)

I started my blog in 2009 and I remember having a program called E-Sword for years using it mainly for pasting and copying bible verses

(a book I had read and still have here with all the tick marks 7 times on the OT and 12 times on the NT with no such intended magical numbers. These are the times I have COMPLETED my readings not counting the many many times I started without finishing either dying in Exodus or Chronics and all the other readings and studies I read.)

So how did it happen? I don’t know it is like my story I said on TV once about the cult.  They say if you put a frog in cold water and raise the temperature gradually. It’s gonna boil without ever attempting to escape.  Which is more than likely an urban legend, a pure myth but explains the situation and time well.

Strangely enough my 2 other friends who have left the cult and all the others I am not sure where they all stand but the two that left that I was in contact with are still quite religious in one form or another having retransformed the lies they learned to make them fit somehow where I took a totally different road not better or worse.

In the end it does not matter, we will all die nothing will happen, and that’s it, we will be quickly forgotten and our mark will be long gone.
My words, his words, her words will be nothing but dispersed atoms of oxygen and nitrogen and argon and carbon dioxide: Hot air in other words

The gases that humans breathe in are nitrogen, oxygen, argon and carbon dioxide, with nitrogen in the largest proportion and carbon dioxide in the smallest proportion. The gases that humans breathe out are the same, although more carbon dioxide and less oxygen is present.

In the end it does not matter, we will all die nothing will happen, and that’s it, we will be quickly forgotten AND no one can PROVE the CONTRARY.



The more I “think” about it the very idea of this *shaking my head here*  of this 

LUDICROUS / PETTY /WHIMSICAL /EGOTISTICAL / CAPRICIOUS / CRUEL / IRRATIONAL / UNRELIABLE */ APATHETIC / IMPOTENT/ and USELESS

“god” for lack of another word well is just that:

LUDICROUS / PETTY /WHIMSICAL /EGOTISTICAL / CAPRICIOUS / CRUEL / IRRATIONAL / UNRELIABLE */ APATHETIC / IMPOTENT/ and USELESS

*(so “mysterious in his ways yeah right)

The omnipotent all powerful god who gives you cancer and what not.

Prayer is nothing short of talking to yourself ( or to a friend or a psychologist) it only allows you to solve problems in your head as simple as should I get an oil change or not or more complex at times.

Anyway none of this will change anything some will even quote Revelations to me LOL

Let the one who does wrong continue to do wrong; let the vile person continue to be vile; let the one who does right continue to do right; and let the holy person continue to be holy."

And so it goes…

In the meanwhile people can continue to believe 
in an Olam Ha-Ba where

Everything was beautiful and Nothing Hurt.

Poo-tee-weet





















Sunday, June 18, 2017

straight rambling

Well err you know what I mean. This blog is unusually written straight on the blog site instead of a Word doc as I usually do.

Continuing my Science of Stupid blog, 18 days of pain so far, I decided to try quitting all painkillers 2 days ago for reasons...

I had some bad stories with oxycodone
and my love/hate relationship with it some years ago,
2010 to be more accurate and
do not want a repeat of it at this stage.


This morning after 2 days of abstinence and an awful lot of pain,
as in writhing and crying pain,
I was very much  tempted to give in "just for this time" hahaha


My moderate dose would have been something like:
2 panadeine forte
(500 mg paracetamol and 30 mg codeine each)
2 extra 30 mg codeine for extra punch
and 2 x 5 mg oxycodone which to me is a baby's dose for a 200 pounder.

I often say the only reason I am not dead so far is BECAUSE I am a 200 pounder and have been since I was 14,
The shit I have taken in my life would have killed many skinny punks.


My argument at the hospital was
(where they give me one an hour while I was there)
that if you give a 5 mg to a 90 pounds wet old lady 


NATURALLY the ABSOLUTE LAWS of CHEMISTRY

say that I should get at least 10 mg considering
there was a time I was taking 20.


But the laws of Chemistry in a hospital are trumped by the laws of Politics 
and as a  Belgian nurse once told me in 2005, 
while I was in for heart surgery, 
the no 1 priority of the staff is not the welfare of the patient, the number 1 priority of the staff is not to think 
but to cover their own asses.  
And with all the stupid suing going on 
hurting us all it is understandable.

Now I hear some people say why not go in the middle and take 2 PANADOL instead?
Well hahaha o ye of little knowledge.. it is nearly impossible I would say inconceivable for me to think this way.


You see us, mental people, suffer usually from more than one thing and everything is intermingled when you got depression / bipolar / borderline / anxiety and/or PTSD disorder and you rarely have one thing alone.

One thing we do have or share though is Denial, Projection and a good dose of SPLITTING.

also called black-and-white thinking or all-or-nothing thinking)

About people and about things.


Anyway to make a a long story short, and as always too late for that, today was a good day.

Sue convinced me in a moment of weakness lol to get out of the house.

One of my other thing is also what I like to call agoraphobia which is not as much  a fear of open spaces as a fear of new uncontrollable environment and it takes a crane to get my fat ass off this chair usually, that or a doctor's appointment which I have plenty.

So after an hour on walking on the beach I feel a little better and my arm to thank me got all itchy as if it needed the circulation to heal.

Not sure exactly where this abstinence will lead but I will take it one day (one hour, one minute) at a time for now.

Last thing I need is another addiction and that at 14,000 kms from home (8700 miles)

Pain is relative and no one can feel another's physical pain and the pains of the past are nothing compared to the pain of the present.  What really takes its toll though is the chronic aspect of it and the duration in days. 

I often compare it to the good old "Chinese" Torture so-called torture of one drop of water on your forehead with no escape in site.

I mean I have had pains of all sort:

heart surgery, gall bladder attack and removal, countless surgeries, hernia, lapband, multiple jaw cysts, not forgetting the numerous bcc extractions. 

- still hurting from the last one

but it just takes its toll on a long run

I wish I was in hospital on a drip at times but then again hospital time with or without drip is no fun time and far from home. 

It should be over soon and I should be all good and ready to be the porter in August.  I need my 2 arms for that and good legs too. :P

In the meanwhile I can try to escape in sleep once in a while when the pain lets me,

That's it for now for an ad-lib rambling

Ciao for now folks






Tuesday, June 13, 2017

New Wine into Old Wineskins

I should really get into the old. 

The new is totally unsatisfying. 

I mean of all the beautiful things that have been written I would be better off really rereading  Flowers forAlgernon for the 10th time.

or reading Shakespeare and Dickens and Balzac and Zola
and all the old Greek and Latin masters.

All the blogs and magazines filling today are so highly influenced by Americans and their L.A. abominable phoney lifestyle, the ideas wars, the flaming, the twitting 

(the er is just there to make you forget that you are a TWIT), 

the utter shallowness of it all, 
the sickening madness of politics and religions and even sports bringing nothing into this world, 
it gets to be a little too much

- (the racism and feminism and political and religious wars and all those senseless tumbler/reddit SJWs,)

-the seven billion and climbing little arrogant gods and napoleons never wrong and always right

- The angry proselytising activists with chips on their shoulders the size of Everest

- The pretending and the false apologies

- This complete Orwellian PC madness

- The utterly misplaced censorship where nipples are more offensive than blood. And words offend more than a 1000 horrible deaths as I keep quoting often

Kurtz: We train young men to drop fire on people, but their commanders won't allow them to write "fuck" on their airplanes because it's obscene!

- Words and words and words and war on words

I was browsing 9GAG as I am known to do and one of the memes was about mansplaining which obviously led me to Googling some more.


And I found out it was coined by Rebecca Solnit who while at a rich party for rich people in Aspen she met a bore.
Oh Quelle Surprise.
The bores in questions are everywhere and from every sex but it made for a nice article which after all is what one has to sell when one lives off writing. In L.A. Times too another
Quelle Surprise.
L.A. Times BTW by nature has to be the shallowest paper on the planet.

So the word was ridden wild for 20 years from everyone with an agenda and has been milked to death obviously and raped and deconstructed to unrecognisable.

Now someone is sad that Darwinian natural selection is taking over and the portmanteau will die of its natural death, when it should have been stillborn actually.


I mean this Utopian Agora of the internet 
which was supposed to be a FREE world of exchange 
of ideas and music and books and arts 
has become a dystopian jungle 
of the lowest common denominator, 
the weakest link in the chain.

Someone is trying hard to sell you some tripe and some are trying to block it and some are trying to block the blockers.
It always amuses me when Forbes of all people won’t show me an article because I have an ad blocker, Boo hoo hoo. Money can’t buy everything apparently.

Facebook will reveal in the near future
to be one of the worst idea of history
and will become what 
Charlie Brooker The Divine 
has prophesied 
in the Black Mirror’s Nosedive.  

That episode was excruciating to watch BTW. 

It is already like this in our choice of an app or a vacation place based on reviews,
reviews often bought and corrupted BTW
a bit like IMDB and our political system.

L.A. is pretty well already a nosedive town if you don’t belong in their selective club of beautiful young rich vegan yoga practicing PETA member fence walkers 

where what you wear DEFINES you FFS. 

Wishy washy pleasers with a banana for a backbone.  

Fake and phoney and quickly forgotten until the day they die that is.

Oops let us remember so and so that we hadn’t mentioned in 20 years and laughed at for being such a has-been.

Again I could be totally full of shit and this is only my feelings about my everyday life trying to find some worthwhile occupation on this wonderful world of free SOMA with unlimited PETAbytes we call the Internet.

Getting to be an old curmudgeon torn between my 3 ME’s.

1.       The ME I think I am.
2.      The ME I would love to be. And
3.      The ME I really am.

The ME I would love to be is a bookworm constantly filling my mind with stuff, preferably old and proved and classic.

The real ME however lacks of stamina and forgets as soon as he learns.

And then there is also the ME YOU think I am.

There is no real me really except for one split second and then it’s another me.

One cannot cross the same river twice.

I did not have any choice in this at all and there would be no point to rejoice about it but I think deep inside (err maybe no now thinking further) I was going to say I think deep inside we are all happy with the sex and colour and race we are given but nah many are not.

I am somewhat pleased that 
in this only ride in consciousness, 
[one time only],
I was born a white male in a Medicare Western World. (Canada, Australia etc) as opposed to a May Fly let's say.

I am also happy that my mother tongue was French since it allows me to read wonderful works in their original tongue. 
Everyone knows how much is lost in translation.

I could have been born a little richer and in a more solid family environment but eh we can’t have it all. 

One thing I will tell you is I am also happy I wasn’t born an American and haven’t become one, even though there was one or two occasions I might have.  I would be long dead to begin with and not here to tell you this story.

I can’t think of too many places either where I would have liked to be born.

I can think of plenty mind you of where I would NOT have liked to be born.

Highly religious countries for one and family honour countries for another and countries filled with control and ignorance.

A few countries of the EU might have been acceptable but I haven’t given it much thought since it is all in the realm of speculations that never happened and never will.

To have been exposed to the humongous literary culture of the German Russians or Spanish would have been nice, even to the Chinese culture maybe, but again one has to be very limited in this world.


Again I fear rereading myself to see if I make any sense at all and if I am remotely coherent but the thoughts were there and I felt like sharing LOL also called mania in some circles. 

So here it goes.