Shut up, Lingerer!

Metal Ox sits back deep on her haunches, "Shut up, Lady."

Walking casually on the ground toward her, "What's the matter?" Ladybug asks, "Why the haunches?"

"What do you mean why?" Metal Ox groans.

Ladybug flops to the ground, exhausted, all six legs splayed out around him, chin resting on the ground, his head bobbing up with every syllable, "What's She done to make you sit on your haunches, Ox?"

"She told us that we were doing 'The Dream'!" Metal Ox shouts.

"You are doing 'The Dream', Ox," Ladybug mimics.

"No." Metal Ox sinks deeper down onto her haunches.

Ladybug laments, "It could take me all year to guess, and you've had us in this holding pattern for months now, as it is. Please, dah-ling, please tell us what's the matter, so that She can deal with it, and then, we can get on with it. Please," Ladybug begs, on all twos, all fours pleading like a weak beggar. 

"She promised no more school! She promised The Dream! We're living my dream, and it was never my dream to make clothes! That's her dream!" Metal Ox finally screams, out of breath, furious.

Ladybug's blown back at Metal Ox's fury, shakes himself off, and with a huff, "Okay, jesus-fucking-christ, relax!"

Ladybug buzzes on over to her, and She swats him away, "---eee" rides on the air.

"Lady!" She shouts as She searches around herself for any sight of Ladybug.

Ladybug buzzes back to her, "You knew I was just over there," he points as he catches his breath.

"Sorry, Lady," She exhales.

"It's okay," Ladybug consoles as he flies up to her shoulder and takes a seat, "So I know what's up with the Ox," he begins.

"What now?" She inquires, halfheartedly.

"Well, according to her, this is not her dream," Ladybug explains.

She ponders this. 

Squirrel loads her another bowl.

She ponders more.

"Tiny Totes, Tiff's T-bags," She whispers.

Ladybug opens a photograph and shows it to her.

"Fuck," She exhales as she hangs her head, "The Ox is fucking right. We're gonna have to go through Tiny Totes Town. This is, in fact, our next destination."

"Well no wonder the road to the Listmaker's Ranch eluded us so," Ladybug shouts like a medieval warrior.

"The fuck, Lady?" She scoffs. 

"What? We didn't know where we were supposed to go next," Ladybug shrugs.

"Well now we fucking do," She stands, frustrated, relieved, aligning toward the heading, "Come on you stubborn motherfucker! You happy now? We're fucking going to fucking Tiny Totes Town!" She shouts loud enough for Metal Ox to hear. She rolls her eyes, "Thanks. Lady."

"What? You wanna be stuck here for more time?" Ladybug asks, seriously. 

"No. I'm ready to get on with it, but there? Why?" She slumps.

"You're living her dream, and before she wanted to make clothes, she wanted to make bags, remember? And it was that girl who got us here," Ladybug remarks, offhandedly, while attending the wing that refuses to fold properly after She smacked him against a wall earlier in "today," remember that?

"Shut up, Lingerer," Ladybug spits while tending to his wing.

"Ugh. I know you're right," She slumps even slumpier this time; "To Tiny Totes Town," She excitedly exclaims, feigned. 

And even though Metal Ox knows that She's being a cunt by rolling her eyes at her she happily thinks to herself, "If I don't make her see this now, it'll come up later."

And She and Ladybug shout in unison, "Shut the fuck up, Lingerer, like, NOW!"

it's true
teenaged tiffany wanted nothing more than to make tiny totes
&when i stopped sewing
about three weeks ago
unable to get back into it
i had to figure out what the fuck was going on
&figure it out we did
&so
we are going to have to take this detour
through Tiny Totes Town
(or as the bodybuddy/lifemate says, "Toteston, you know, like Downton,"
but i am not a british cunt
for i am an american cunt
and thank the good lord Lady
that i am not a british cunt
cause
leave it up to the britons
to figure out the most sinister way
to publicly lynch a black man
without a single trace back to a single individual
cause he was awarded his position
by committee
this is some stone-cold supremacy shit
&yet
nobody seems to really want to speak to it in this light
but just think about it
for one goddamn minute
&you'll realize
that that killing of that professor
was an orchestrated lynching
&if you do not want to accept that these are the lengths
that racist-fucking supremacist britons will go
to send a message
think again)
in order to successfully make it to our desired destination
Designville
&we're all on this ride
together
so no
i do not know how many fucking totes it will take
to satisfy this motherfucker

it's my new "bag" bag
we take all of these shapes/sizes
of reusable bags
to the store with us every time we shop:
one super-extra large
one regular-sized grocery bag
(the size of a brown paper bag)
one "fabric" plastic bag
&one smaller but heavy-duty bag
(for like milk cartons &beer packs)
&i was using a free little plastic thing
&now i get to use this!

aching for The Embers
like my life depends on it
&also
terrified
cause like
what the fuck
this has been one insane year
so far
&for me
The Embers
is when it all starts to "get started"
so i'm holding on for dear life
over here
y'all
*sighs*

hang in there
^..^

the current combi
which means that it's about to change
lol
i wonder what it'll be

[end note]

&if you think that it's just like

so weird

to document play time

it's all i know

*shrug*

when 'Hang in There' becomes 'Time to Fly'

"Yea sure, Lady, so 'simple,' but when you live a lifetime of hanging on, letting go feels impossible."

"Yea sure, so uh, neither of us are any good at drawing, so I guess we'll have to imagine it."

She takes a deep inhale, exhales, and rolls her eyes.

"So, there you are," Ladybug starts, "Okay, so close your eyes."

"Laay-dee," she ughs.

"Do it!" Ladybug demands.

"The fuck," she ughs, "Relax."

"Sorry, but seriously, close your eyes, so you can imagine," Ladybug insists as he lifts an arm to set the scene. 

She unwillingly obliges and even lays down onto her back, feet flat, knees up.

"I can see your eyes rolling, even when they're closed," Ladybug points out.

"I know," she ughs.

"Are you ready?" Ladybug prepares as he clears his voice.

She takes another deep inhale, exhales, "Do I have a choice?"

"Okay, so imagine with me," Ladybug begins. "There you are, hanging on, like that kitten poster, 'Hang in There,' hanging down, below the rope, gripping with all your strength, using every fiber in your body to survive. You hang on and you hang on and you hang on!"

She can feel her heartbeat rising and takes another deep inhale, exhales.

"What happens, though, as you hang on so tightly for your life, is that you also begin to rise, or sorta float, you know?" Ladybug shrugs.

She ponders this, "Sure."

"And over time, your position in space as that little kitty that was once hanging down 'Hanging in There' is instead being pulled in an upwards direction, as if," Ladybug deploys his wings, as she cuts him off ... 

"It won't let go," she sits up straight, as Ladybug buzzes himself right in front of her face, and finishes, "and fly."

CUNTSTOMER

notoriously a woman

possesses an over-inflated EGO 

 

notoriously a member of the near-elderly-to-old generations

subscribes to the idea that women are to put on a face when out in public

 
notoriously miserable, stressed out, wrinkled (in that deep, dark way where the shadow of their miserable internal lives escapes through their eyes and haunts their face only to terrify any would-be beholder) from the stress

holds the idea in her mind that she deserves to be treated in a certain way, and thusly, expects to be treated in that way, at all times, by all people, no matter how they treat the people around them

 and that way is notoriously over-inflated by an ego that believes that she is special, deserving

and if you do not treat her the way in which she believes she deserves, e.g. neutral as opposed to ass-hole licking prostration, brace yourself for scolding condescension to the tune of, "My god, how dare you speak to me like that!" followed closely by, "I really hope your day turns around."

and if you even suggest that, "Actually, I'm having the best day, ever! I'm quite happy, right now, thank you!" Be prepared to trigger her, because she, herself, is an unhappy miserable cunt, so "How dare you not spread your happiness with all of us miserable cunts! We spread our entitled disdain for our failures all over you, you selfish Bitch!" and then she screams, "Instead of making my day brighter, you've ruined it!" 

oh, to be The Giver of the exact right words to the exact right person at exactly the right time

"Shush up," Squirrel shushes.

"Rude," she yawns, as she conjures a new, fat-jay out of thin air.

"No, listen," Squirrel insists.

yea, but to be able to give the exact right words to the exact right person at exactly the right time means that ... [inaudible mumbling] ... you know, everything.

nobody can know all of the right words any given person would ...

They both hear the familiar voice of Ladybug.

"Lady!" they whisper-shout in unison.

&as she and Ladybug appear around the last bend, she and Squirrel see them, shouting, "Lady! We're over here!"

&the two shes lay eyes on each other; Ladybug blinks, &they disappear as they reappear equidistant between Squirrel and Ladybug as one. 

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" She screams aloud as She slumps into a heap on the ground.

Ladybug buzzes to her as quickly as he can while Squirrel takes one beautiful, long leap to her side. 

She rolls onto her back, eyes wide, arms wide, legs wide. 

"I hate you," She sighs.

"I know," Ladybug laments; "I hate me, too."

"&fuck you, Lingerer," She spits.

you're not a victim; you're lazy

"She does what?" Ladybug asks.

"She makes assumptions about me, believes herself to be correct, like a true narcissist, never asks questions, and then behaves according to her own bad-deductions," she explains.

"Just like that other one, the, uh, what was it," Ladybug thinks for a moment.

"The bitchy-agro," she sighs.

"Yes, that's it, bitchy-agro. Just like that?" Ladybug wonders.

"Yes," she sighs.

Ladybug takes a deep breath in and then huffs.

"Like, why is it always the stupidest people who think that they know everything, assume that they've, like, figured it out?" she stomps.

"Dunning and Kruger," Ladybug shakes its head.

"Don't I know it," she shrugs, despondent; "Enough about the losers."

"Yes, of course," Ladybug buzzes off and then loops back around to meet her on the trail.

"Lady?" she starts.

"Yea," Ladybug invites.

"Why don't people just open their mouths and ask?" she asks.

"On an individual level, I could never know such a thing, but in a general sense, it seems like people, in general, are very egocentric. You know?" Ladybug suggests. 

"Yea, like the types who, after you ask them a question about themselves, they keep talking as if you're, like, so interested in them, but really, you're just making conversation, but then they keep talking about themselves, and then, they never even ask you a single reciprocal question, cause like, they're such losers that nobody has ever shown any interest in them, and so, if you're the one who accidentally paid them a modicum of attention, by asking them a question, they suddenly think that you're like obsessed with them, like you care, and you want to know their entire life story, or like, you're literally the only person in the whole world who they will ever be able to tell their life story, etc., but really, you're just making conversation, cause, like, you're a decent person, and this is a social world in which we are all trapped, etc.," she vents.

"Most people are not cool," Ladybug sighs.

"Don't I know it," she sighs.

"So, don't worry about it," Ladybug shrugs.

She stops for a second, looks out over the shallow stream and then across the field between them and the Listmaker's Ranch.

"What do you want to eat?" Ladybug asks.

"A lobster roll," she states as she starts to stroll.

"Great! A lobster roll it is! What is it?" Ladybug asks.

"Ugh, Lady," she slump-shouts.

Meanwhile ...

"What do you mean, you're not going to do it anymore?" Ladybug asks.

"It means what I said, Lady," she scoffs.  

"Okay, okay. I hear you. Just tell me, again, what happened, exactly," Ladybug demands. "I'm not demanding; we are problem-solving," Ladybug eye-rolls. "I don't eye roll," Ladybug huffs. "Ugh!" 

"Shut up, Lingerer!" she shouts. 

"Tell me,"Ladybug insists, with a look. 

"While I was walking home from my job, the other day, there were two one-dollar bills in the roundabout in front of my apartment building," she starts.

"Okay," Ladybug encourages as it leans toward her.

"Obviously, I was thrilled. It had been a minute since I found money on the ground. You know me," she shrugs. 

"Yes, I know," Ladybug encourages, leaning in even more now, antennae perky.

"And I woke up the next night thinking, one buck for each billion .... but i want two-point-two billion ... *sigh* ... oh well ... i'll obviously be happy with two billion ... obviously," she explains.

"Okay?" Ladybug shrinks back a bit, feeling confused.

"And then, later that day (the early morning from the night before), we checked the mail, which is mail from the day before. And in the mail, our address had been chosen for some Gallup Poll, and in the mailer was two bucks," she states. 

"I see," Ladybug slouches back, even further now, so far that it sits back on its haunches.

"I'm not finished," she clears her throat.

"Why? What more could you have possibly experienced in the two seconds we were parted!" Ladybug shouts!

"The next day, while I was walking home from my job, earlier along the route, I found a ring. It was obviously too big for any of my fingers, but it fit the bodybuddy/lifemate," she whispers. 

"You found him a ring of power?" Ladybug gasps as it deploys its wings to meet her face.

"It would seem so," she smirks.

Ladybug slows lowers itself to the ground in front of her. On all sixes it asks, "And two sets of two one-dollar bills." 

"Yes," she smiles. 

"You were gone for two seconds; I swear," Ladybug swears.

 

In the far far distance
a big red barn appears on the green green grass
at the base of the tall tall mountains
where the three peaks meet.

The two of them glance out over the fields toward the big red barn. 

"Fucking, List-Maker," the two of them spit simultaneously. 

"Squirrel's just up this stream," Ladybug points, "and he's been making a list of all of the stuff we can eat along the way," Ladybug informs.

She stands and dusts herself off, "Lesgo."

&the musubi, too loosely strapped in by its nori, slips off its spam in joyful delight that it will not, in fact, be food, today *cheers*

"No, you don't understand. It's not that she was being mean, she was being bitchy," she explains.

Ladybug looks at me with its annoyed face, then returns its attention to her and shrugs, "Explain to me the difference."

She takes a deep breath in, annoyed, as usual, "The difference is when a woman is being mean to you, you did something to her or whatever. When a woman is being bitchy, that's on her. She's being a bitch at you for reasons of her own that may or may not have anything to do with you." 

Ladybug considers this with a rub of its chin, "Sure. So, she was being bitchy?"

"Yes!" she hollers, and then, "She was being all agro at me whenever we would have to interact, which was nearly every day, but then"

Ladybug cuts her off, "Wait, wait, wait just a minute. What the fuck is ag-grow?"

"Ugh," she eye-rolls, like I said, annoyed, as usual, "It's like when someone is being all aggressive, too aggressive or like aggressive in a situation that doesn't require any aggression." 

Ladybug nods, "Okay, sure, yes, she was being a bitchy agro."

"No, Lady," she sighs, "Ugh. Okay, whatever, yes, she was being all bitchy and agro."

Ladybug claps its two top feet together and rubs them together in feigned delight, "Okay!"

"No, this is a sad story," she throws her head back in anguish, annoyed, "Whatever. Just like, stop interrupting."

Ladybug agrees with the motion of locking its mouth shut and throwing away the key.

She takes a deep breath in, "She used to be all bitchy at me and all agro whenever we would interact. We don't have to interact much, maybe just like once or twice in passing and not every day."

Ladybug looks confused and looks like its about to say something when ... 

"Don't!"

Ladybug sits back on its haunches and tries to hold an air of nonchalance, then flicks me a look of nastiness, "I am not being nasty, Lingerer!" 

"Forget it," she stands to leave.

Ladybug deploys its wings and positions itself right in front of her face, "Nooooooo. Tell us the story. Please. Just tell us!"

"Then shut the fuck up! Both of you!," she shouts.

Ladybug is taken aback, "But ..."

"I know! Just stop it!" she demands.

a breeze blows by ever so softly &on the air rides the tale

She didn't even know this lady; she had never even officially met her, but it was obvious that the lady had an opinion of her. "If the lady is just like this," she thinks, "then she's one seriously miserable cunt." She obviously didn't know what she had done to cause such treatment by a lady she didn't know or even have to interact with much outside of a few pleasantries as co-jobbers. Their job paths didn't cross, and their positions were unaffected by whomever's rank/seniority, etc. For one whole year this went on, the lady being bitchy, she being nice and confused. It's difficult to continue to be nice to someone in the face of their harshness, but the reality of the situation was that she hadn't done anything to this lady, and so, perhaps, this is simply the lady's demeanor, and she accepted this.

&then, another half of a year went by.

&then, the lady said the oddest thing to her, in passing, one early morning as she was signing off, the lady signing on, "Oh, I heard that you're Korean!" "Yes, I am Korean," she confirmed. "Oh, well, have a great day!"

&then, with an accent the lady smiled and chuckled, "안녕하세요! 감사합니다!"

She was, obviously, so confused, and for the next week or so, the lady was so nice and friendly and warm, and she was, obviously, fucking pissed, As a woman from the Philippines, the lady is now being so friendly to me because I'm Korean? What did the lady think I was before? And why, when being something else, was the lady such a bitch, but now that I'm Korean, she's being so nice?

&then, another week passed.

&then, one day while jobbing, the lady shouts over the noise at her, "Someone told me that you were Filipino and that you speak Tagalog." 

She chuckles, "No, I'm Korean, and I don't speak Tagalog."

&now it's today, and she hasn't seen the lady again, yet, since the new piece of information was delivered, but some conclusions can absolutely be made, none of which bode well for the lady, so to your own imagination are you left with, today, dear reader.  

Sailor's Log | Law School Application Weeks 3 + 4 [we are now in Week 5]

Alright, I'll admit it; I'ma Metal Ox, and my adopted father never missed an opportunity to shake his head in disappointment that, "You're stubborn as an ox," a Metal Ox, to be exact. And, as you can tell, I used to think that he was always insulting me, which he was and wasn't. I am stubborn, and stubbornness, like all things, has multiple facets to its "is-ness."

With that said, my Metal Ox did her thing last week.

As a thirty-eight-year-old woman (i am nearly across the finish for another lap, but i ought not jinx myself by proclaiming too loudly that i am nearly my-next-age, etc., the humbler the better, as one ages, i've deduced, as i've aged, etc.), I know better than to reason with the Ox. She is stubborn, stubborn as a Metal Ox. And so, I had to just sort of go on with my life, knowing that she's putting up a fight for some reason while acknowledging and remembering that this train needs to keep moving forward. I am stubborn toward reaching my goals, also.

With all the diligence I could muster, I suffered through a week of that goddamn GRE test-prep book. Fighting against myself every day for a week.

And then, my Metal Ox went from digging her heels in to outright sitting her fat-ass down. Any attempt to sway her was futile. And so, I surrendered. In so many words, I told her that she'd won; we will not be doing any GRE math today, and I wrote some fiction instead. 

[begin fiction from that day]  

She looks up, and directly overhead, the moon shines bright, and as she tilts her head up, up, upward toward the moon's fat face, around the rim of her sights are the trees that line the island of magic, and as she swings her eyeballs around their sockets, she sees the moon as the nipple of a giant tree-boob.

 

How could she inherently know or understand that she is a nonlinear time traveler? First, it would require the existence of another nonlinear time traveler to bump into her so that she could be recognized as such, one imagines. Also, she lived linearly for a long long time without knowing that she could live nonlinearly but more importantly, that she has. 

&Find out she did, cause find out one must, cause when the past &or future comes to haunt you, it's best to know what happened. Although, to be honest, she's pretty sure she's never actually traveled to her future, cause she's fairly certain that she's from "the future" from whenever she consciously remembers existing, etc., and so, she's generally confident that she has yet to "return" to from when she came, etc. Nevertheless, she has become aware of the fact that she is a nonlinear time traveler, in this current lifetime in which she's existing, etc. 

That being said, she finds it difficult to wrap her mind around the fact that all people do not travel through time nonlinearly. This was, obviously, the assumption she had in her head about all of this, for many many years, and yet, the Truth is that it's very rare to encounter a nonlinear traveler of time, and she's not yet quite sure as to why that is. She has her theories, obviously, but they are all trite and rudimentary, etc.

Her homunculus is a shining beacon of her Metal Ox

"Stubborn" is the word familiar

She learned the lessons

She lived the tale

and yet

She strives to acquire that which she stands against

The unfairness of it all

That cruel & "infinite jest"

But it's not a jest.

[end fiction from that day]

And then the bodybuddy/lifemate and I went for a run, and on this run, I admitted a lot of things out loud. Some of which revolved around the fact that I felt like I was wasting my time studying all of this stupid math for the GRE. I couldn't admit this out loud, because I didn't want to sound like I was copping out. I wanted to do this thing that I said I would do, and what this thing requires is my brushing up on my math skills. I'd also been lacking a lot of confidence with regards to taking the GRE because of the math. I honestly think that I could do alright, and I even know that the math portion isn't even that important, because I'm trying to go to law school, not medical school, or whatever. 

And then I admitted that I felt really stupid for not just looking into the LSAT right away. The test has no math section.

When you begin the law school application process, the entire process basically begins with your LSAT score, and yet, I was, for some reason (namely I had already purchased a GRE test-prep book, so I didn't want to waste the money, ugh, being poor sucks!) going against the grain. I don't have an existing GRE score. I've never taken any standardized tests for a graduate-level education. Why was I so fixated on suffering through the GRE?

And so, if I'm already spending the time studying a subject for a standardized test, shouldn't I simply study the subject that I hope to study in school? So I perused the LSAT for Dummies at our local B&N, and then I answered a few questions outta the practice tests, and I got the right answer to all of them. Not that I feel confident that I will do well, but at least the LSAT will actually test the skills I "need" to succeed at law school, theoretically. Whether or not I do well should suggest whether or not law school is really for me or not. But I gotta say, the questions were right up my alley. The sections of the test are what I want to spend my time studying. I WANT TO SCOUR WORDS FOR THEIR MEANING! And that's all the LSAT is ... word work, cause that's all "lawyering" is ... word work. And I'm good at word work. My obsession with and bottomless, enduring, ever-growing love for word work is WHY I WANT TO GO TO LAW SCHOOL! Duh. It's so fucking difficult to remember who you are sometimes *blech*

It all clicked. 

Ugh, and I felt like such a moron (and i'm not beating myself up about it, too much, but still, how stupid), so we're on the same set of tracks, but now we're in the caboose instead of a pickup truck. I'm going to take the LSAT, and the whole testing date situation just so happens to perfectly align with the law school's admissions deadline, etc., etc., etc. That's right, folks, a ripe-old moron is making her attempt at law school! If I can do it, so can you! But now I have almost exactly eight weeks to really buckle down and get this shit done, but at least now, thanks to my stubborn-ass homunculus, I'm excited about it.

In other news, all of my transcripts have been received along with my Number Two letter of recommendation. I've also requested a third letter from an old friend/mentor/leader (who this person is might need a whole post of its own), but the Time Tide is really doing its thing on this one, which is totally fine, cause really, I'm being greedy even asking for a third letter. 

*sits and thinks if there's anything else she wants to remember*

I guess that's it. Jobbing and Studying schedules have not changed. Sat down to rest my weary soul after a long week, flipped on the tv, entered tubi, and one of the first movies on the first screen was Legally Blonde. Obviously, we watched it. 

CUBE, SQUARED | where everything ends up just as it was

"No, it's a portal," Ladybug explains. 

"Why?" Squirrel asks.

"What do you mean, why?" Ladybug scoffs.

"Why is it a portal?" Squirrel attempts to clarify.

"How could I know such a thing?" Ladybug laughs.

"Okay, so it's a portal," Squirrel reiterates.

"Yes," Ladybug confirms.

"To where?" Squirrel eye-rolls.

"To when," Ladybug corrects.

"To when? Why?" Squirrel shrugs.

"Ugh, you are intolerable," Ladybug laments.

"You're intolerable!" Squirrel shouts.

"It's a time portal," Ladybug re-reiterates.

"Okay! Wher—WHEN ... does? it go?" Squirrel mumbles.

"Whoever steps through the portal ends up right back at the moment before they stepped in it," Ladybug explains.

"Wha—what? Why? How?" Squirrel stammers.

Ladybug deploys its wings and buzzes itself right in front of the face of Squirrel and slaps him, "Shut up! Shut! Up!"

[end note] 

this "magazine" CUBE, SQUARED is a creation that exists within my first book, Red & Blue Make Green, &i opened a copy of that book yesterday, &in it, i re-read the tagline that i wrote for the "magazine" ten years ago, &i laughed out loud. i laughed for quite some time, actually, &then the bodybuddy/lifemate&i had a conversation theorizing what any of it could possibly mean, &the above is the direction that i've decided to take it, at least for the moment, lol.

there are two pieces for the "magazine" in the Book ::

"On Her Back" by EV Maddox pp 59-67

& "Fringe Tassel Accused of Unethically 'Loving Local'" by UR.us pp 110-113

Night-Run Log (sometimes sunrise)

&The Moon Follows

As they make their way up the beach, the reflection of the moon off the ocean telescopes with them.

As they make their way down the beach, the reflection of the moon off the ocean telescopes with them.

As they make their way out onto the rocky point, the reflection of the moon off the ocean telescopes with them.

No Moon

There was no moon tonight.

&As we edged around the rocky point where the sea splashes upon shore, a sliver of the moon shone in the Light to Day.

There is no ombré like sunrise ombré.

The Light is on its way to Day

&It does not stop for boarding

Cause you're already on board.

The Lingerers are spilling our secrets to someone, somewhere, but we cannot decipher to whom they spill our secrets.

You can bribe them with wet or dry food; they each have their own preference.

High Tide &The Moon Overhead

Low Tide &The Moon Set

Splash Tide &The Moon Over-Yonder

Rip Tide &The Moon

Watching the sunrise, on a regular basis, is how she learned to understand what "Incremental Growth" means. 

Sunsets, oddly enough, never taught her any lessons. 

A Single Photon in the Light of the Moon

Photons in the Light of the Moon

The Light of the Moon &Its Photons

Hit Me with Your Photons

My Photons are Stronger than Yours

I have more of them.

Explain to me what a photon IS

If you don't know, don't guess.

Explain to me what fire IS

If you don't know, don't guess.

She finds it difficult to describe ... the indescribable

&Trying can sometimes be the worst-kind of insult to the thing indescribable. 

I'm Alive

&Living

&The Moon Follows

According to Them, Nonlinear Time-Travelers ought not be Linear-Time Keepers

&According to them, "You can't get the capital-tee Truth out of her! She lives in a fantasyland!"

According to her ...

What looks like fantasy to some is reality to others and vice versa,

and it's never a surprise to find out that the mediocre lack imagination. 

Of course the fantastic is where she exists.

&Of course, the unimaginative cannot Travel there with her.

"I have been informed to neither confirm nor deny you," Jei states flatly. "So," Salai smirks, "she lives." And Reigns rides a whisper. "Fascinating," Salai admits as she makes her way through the back-exit of the Post where she can look upon the various fields of various edibles at the end of which stand two identical houses. Jei looks nervous. Salai smirks again, "Is Dei good at the job?" Dei perks up from her glacial slouch. "She's okay," Jei admits, not-looking in Dei's direction. Salai looks directly at Dei, "The Chosen One, can't stomach it?" And can't believe it rides on the air of Salai's words. "The oddball born of normies," Salai continues. Jei looks like he's trying to control himself. Dei has a blank-looking expression on her face. "You two are quite a pair," Salai chuckles, closing the door through which she was looking out at the space beyond the Post, sighs, "If you do not tell me when we are, Jei, you know that I will have no other option than to figure it out myself, and neither, sorry, none of us want that, isn't that right?" Salai reminds as she turns her attention to Dei; "She may be special, sure, but she's soft, of mind." Jei hangs his head in knowingness.

"Salai," Jei starts, "Dei is not your enemy." Salai releases Dei from her sight and whips her head around to face Jei. "The two of you are complicit in the actions that are being taken in order to keep me captive here," Salai informs. "You're not being held captive," Jei explains. "So, I can just walk out this door and exit the 'Big Red Barn'?" Salai mocks. "Yea, sure," Jei admits; "You're free to leave. We were simply meant to accompany you if accompaniment is what you desire. At least, that's how Ladybug put it." Salai eyes Dei; Dei's cluelessness is confirmed. 

"I don't believe your lies, Jei, but since I'm here, and, generally speaking, this all seems relatively harmless, I'll stay, for the time being, so that I can watch her," Salai points, intimidatingly, at Dei,"do the job." Jei sighs an inaudible sigh. "Relieved?" Salai goads. "Of course. Why would I want harm to befall you? Either of you," Jei states, eyeing Dei, ineffectively hiding his fear.

'There once lived a [B]romide named Salai'

We all know that Salai cannot die and that that's a lie.

&as she strikes a match against the rough strip, the first photon speeds across the room where, for the lucky few, a ladybug catches the thing and flings it through time&space where it can land in a recognizable reality wherein she has a purpose.

Awoken, another match is struck, a single photon hits her consciousness, and she feels a breeze on her brow. She blinks in an attempt to wet her dry-feeling eyes. She lifts an arm to shield her eyes from something bright. What feels like the sun, shines down hard upon her face. Her eyes hurt. A crowd cheers in the distance. The ripping zip-pull of a lamp light's chain. A click. 

Perhaps Salai can lie, and that's why she'll die. 

She feels the familiar pull of the gelly, and after a while, she feels a hand touch hers, and as the hand reaches her wrist, she's grabbed tight and pulled inelegantly into the Post. A despondent heap on the floor, she knows exactly where she is before she even sees the familiar face of Jei and the unfamiliar face of someone she does not know. "This is Dei," Jei gestures toward Dei, and gesturing toward her, Jei looks at Dei, "And this is Salai."  

Time oozes like dry-ice fog.

"She's a Bromide," Dei states. "Yes," Jei answers. "How can a Bromide do the job of a Monitor?" Dei wonders. "Exactly," Jei answers. Salai sits comfortably in the all-too-familiar high-wing-backed chair in the middle of the Post wherein she can face her face upwards to take in all of the knowledge stored within the books that sit upon the shelves that line the Post's interior wallspace upward, upward, upward until nothing can be gleaned. Salai sighs. 

Aghast, Jei finds the task of controlling his anger a challenge, but wait they do, cause wait they must. "Who are we waiting for?" Dei asks, wide-eyed, curious. Salai scoffs. "Ladybug," Jei answers. "Ladybug?" Dei starts, "What does Ladybug have to do with any of this?" "Ladybug brought her here," Jei answers. "How?" Dei wonders. "How?"Jei challenges, "How? You want to know how?" Jei shakes his head in utter disbelief/disappointment. Dei slinks deeply into the couch upon which she sat only moments ago. 

If Salai can die, what's with the lie? 

"You know what we used to do with Lingerers?" Salai suggests. "'Suggests.' Oooo, you are good. I can see why she likes you or tolerates you," Salai chuckles; "There was a time when Lingering was frowned upon, which means that we must be on an Orbital. Is this The Orbital, I wonder. It seems like it must be if a Lingerer lingers so ... what's the word ... freely. Yet the two of you," she points slowly back and forth between Jei and Dei, "want me to believe that I am on the Listmaker's Ranch, and from the tangible evidence before me, I should be pretty convinced that I am on the Listmaker's Ranch, and yet, this one tiny little detail of this Lingerer has given up the whole charade (charade pronounced sharaahd)," Salai theorizes as she glances at the Lingerer. She looks amused, "Diction is everything."

Turning her attention to Jei, Salai challenges, "So tell me, dear Jei, when the fuck are we?" Standing now, she looks down hard upon Jei as she enlarges herself to tower over him.  

If you have money, what do you need followers for?

She saw two ladybugs yesterday, one of them twice. 

The fat face of the Yellow Moon warned her from beyond the row of palms that line the sandy beach of the calm cove over which the Yellow Moon's shine reflects through a low set of cotton clouds. 

Feeling poor is not the same as Being Poor.

Everything's changed since Eugene arrived.

If you cannot even properly identify your enemy, how will you ever defeat them?

^..^

"Slowly, the Lingerer slinks toward me," she starts; "No way, stop it; this is going to get really complicated, really fast," she scolds. 

Silence.

Stillness.

"For the fucking LOVE of all that is green, please, can we just have one normal sequence," Ladybug sighs, despondent. "I'm not despondent," Ladybug thinks for a moment, "I'm ... I'm ... okay, fine. I'm despondent." 

Palpable, the futility begins to reveal itself. "This is not a futile situation," she and Squirrel state, in unison, while standing. "Not this again," Ladybug eyerolls. "Squirrel said that the dragonfly suggested we were only a week early," she explains. Ladybug laughs so hard it falls over and begins rolling around on the ground on its shell. "It's ... nota ... shell," Ladybug manages between giggles. "What the fuck is so fucking funny, Lady!" Squirrel shouts. Ladybug chuckles as it dusts itself off, "A dragonfly? A dragonfly came by here and 'suggested' that you're about a week early?" "Yea," Squirrel, losing confidence, confirms. Ladybug has another fit of laughter. 

"Stop it," she eyerolls. 

Upright again, Ladybug shakes its head, "That dragonfly lied." "How the hell do you know?" Squirrel challenges. "Cause, look," Ladybug points in the direction of the green green hillside at the base of the middlemost peak where the three peaks meet. "What are we looking at?" she and Squirrel speak simultaneously. "Where's the barn?" Ladybug offers. The two skeptics stare off into the distance.

"Fuck!" the two simultaneously shout. "Yes," Ladybug agrees; "We didn't realize you were off to the Listmaker's Ranch." "How? How could you not know? Isn't that why you're here?" Squirrel sniffles, aghast. "Uh, no. We thought we were summoned to you, uh, you know, for no reason at all," Ladybug cheerily suggests, top legs wide, a shit-eating grin.

"Lay-dee!" Squirrel shouts, eyes wild, teeth clenched.

"Goddammit, Squirrel. Why do you always have to be like this?" Ladybug shakes its head, disappointed. "Like what?" Squirrel spits. "Just, ugh, you're clueless," Ladybug starts. "About..." Squirrel leads. "She's obviously not whoever you think she is," Ladybug points at her. "Whu...who?" Squirrel stammers.

She looks guilty.

"She's a Bromide,"* Ladybug shrugs, despondent. "She's ..."

"A disgrace," she interjects.

^..^

The people who treat her the worst on this planet are women over-fifty-five, which is such a weird demographic to hate on the next generation of women, especially Globeaux women, in her opinion. 

Exhibit A

She's doing her job at her jobplace. An overweight, ugly, white, Over-Fifty-Fiver slinks into an aisle behind her, and she does not see the OFF. As she begins to move down the aisle, she incidentally "cuts off" the OFF. The OFF screams at her, "Excuse me! I'm trying to get down this aisle!" "I didn't see you," she explains, "I didn't ..." "The customer is always right! You're a worker. I'm the CUSTOMER!" 

Exhibit B

She's doing her job at her jobplace. An older senile, droopy-faced asian Over-Sixty-Fiver slithers by. As she passes by the OSF, the OSF's face congeals into a nasty look that suggests the OSF would like to see her dead, and then, as some young male walks by, the OSF smiles. 

Exhibit C

She's shopping about town. A sign spinner stops her on a street corner and suggests a cute little shop where she might like some things. She follows the map and heads toward the shop. As she nears the shop, an old ethnic-looking OFF grabs her by the shoulders and informs, "My shop is right over there," and points, "the guy just called me saying you were on your way." Creeped the fuck out, she gazes blankly at the tchotchkes for sale in this particular "street market" in which she finds herself. She decides she'll take a look at the OFF's shop. Upon arriving at the OFF's shop, she realizes the "shop" is more of a "stall" or "stand," and is immediately turned off, nevertheless, she approaches. "Oh, so where are you from?" the OFF starts with a smile. "Here. I moved here," she says. A shadow falls over the OFF's face, "Oh, so you decided to move here?" "Yea," she answers. "Why do people want to move here?" the OFF starts, "Everyone wants to move here, why? It'll kick you out if you don't belong. I've been here since I was five. Fifty-seven I am, now. That's fifty-five years. Everyone moves here, and it makes everything expensive, so now I'm unhoused," she explains, and then she answers her iPhone through the Airpod in her ear, as she sits in front of thousands of dollars of product she what, stole? 

Exhibit D

While home for the summer between college semesters, she tans herself in the sun in the backyard of her family's house. Her mother appears on the back patio, "Are you on your period?" She lifts her head, confused, "Yea?" Smiling, her mother yells among laughs, "I knew it! I can see your belly pooch!"

^..^

One person has 50K social media followers and $0

Another person has 0 SMFs and $50K

If you think that it's impossible to have hundreds of thousands of followers and $0, think again.

The person with 50K SMFs thinks that they can do something for the person with $50K.

What, exactly, can the person with 50K SMFs do for the person with $50K who neither wants nor needs SMFs?

^..^

"It's the imbalance of it all that ensures that there are limits to some friendships."

Who said that?

"Don't worry. The world spins round, not up and down."

What does that have to do with anything? Who are you?

"What is a friend?"

...

"Do you have a friend?"

Are you asking me?

"Yes."

Who are you?

"A friend."

Whose friend?

"Your friend."

How can we be friends, if I don't know who you are?

"You know who I am."

Who are you, then?

"I'm your friend!"

^..^

On Glory

More than fame, more than greatness, glory. Like reverence but less-personal. Like saintly but not-religious. A state of being as opposed to a title, imbued not bestowed. Adoration but not really. 

On G.O.A.T.-ness

"Of All Time"? Seriously? All Time has yet to unfold. The already-dangerous pride has morphed into hubris, and we're all for it, cause there are no moral lessons about hubris *wink wink*

^..^

a little

right from the first sip

i could feel it

*yes, the original posting of this post had Ladybug describe her as a "Monitor," but the Truth is, as i sit here in the future [24Aug24 approximately 0330], that she is a Bromide. these are sketches, remember, an anthology-like work of science fiction being written &shared in real-time.

a Visitation [in word]

She's nearly prophetic these days

Not necessarily about what

but that

and when

but not exactly

and certainly not why

On the Horizon

the first feelings riding that first photon of the happening 

Theoretically

Everything rides Something

It's hard to know when you've become food

The moment arrives, and before you know it

You're food

the Hierarchy is not not-real

my ability or lack thereof to overcome or succumb will

undoubtedly

be better than some and worse than others

Something snatches you

The moment arrives, and before you know it

This is it

She sees

not-because she is special

but rather

because she is willing

Today is not your day

The moment arrives, and before you know it

You wriggle free

I am Free

yet Lost

Arms wide, you fly

The moment arrives, and before you know it

You're hungry

She awakens

And you see her see you

My soul refuses to believe

She stands

You ask why

I ask why

She waits

You wait

I wait

She collects you

You do not resist being collected

I see

She looks at me

You look at me

She &Squirrel

flick, flick, flicker

thick, thick, thicker

lick, lick, lick-her

^..^

Squirrel sonorously screams something suddenly, "AHHHHHHHHH!" She stirs, "What the fuck!" Squirrel sits upright on the stone, paw to his chest, "I, saw myself." "Clearly?" she asks. "Yes," Squirrel admits. "Holy fuck," she whispers. 

^..^

"No. It's not that the grass is greener. It's that the grass looks greener," the wind carries a voice. Squirrel perks up and nudges her, "Do you hear that?" "Nooo," she scoffs, sarcastic. They stand, Squirrel upon the stone, she upon the shore, to meet friend or foe.

^..^

It's not like, three big mountain peaks. It's more like one large mountain peak that's eroding, and so there are three tips to the one big peak. There's another place, though, where multiple peaks meet, and I thought of this place not so long ago after learning about what beavers are, what they do. And it was because of this learning about beavers that I realized something about this other place where there are multiple peaks to which I could be referring when referring to the place where three peaks meet, and the thing that I realized is that there's a small lake at the base of the valley at the top of which is this other place where multiple peaks meet, and for my entire life, I knew that there was a family of beavers who lived in that lake, because everyone knew, because that was the feature of that lake, and so, what I realized is that that lake was beaver-made by that family of beavers! 

This just opens the floodgates to questions about beavers. Like, seriously, what the fuck. If you want to talk about the things that shape things as we know them, beavers are high up on that list of interesting world-builders, etc.

^..^

Water is a tired metaphor.

^..^

Some emotions can be ridden into the past.

The future is not a place to which one ought to jump. The future is best-had at the speed at which you consider time to be passing "normally," etc. Think about it. If you jump to the future, you're skipping over time, and in that time things will have unfolded that you will not know about, thus, you are specifically thrusting yourself into an unknown situation, ill-equipped and not-prepared. It's a total loser's situation. Only a fool would jump/skip-travel to the future. When traveling to the past, however, you know a lot more than the people in that past. You're over-equipped to exist in the past. Only a complete narcissist would travel to the past.

To the past, travel on! But don't linger. 

When someone arrives to you via the future, what's the one best question to ask to be convinced?

^..^

Wrapping my mind around the idea of fire is becoming increasingly more difficult.

^..^

Zooooooiit! "Goddammit, Ladybug!" Squirrel shouts as Ladybug zips around the little campsite she and Squirrel have set up, chuckling; "AH!" Squirrel screams as you approach. "What the fuck?" she scampers atop the stone with Squirrel at the sight of you. 

"Calm down," Ladybug dismisses with both top arms as it finds a desirable landing spot. 

"Why the fuck you bringing a Linger-er, here, Lady?!" she and Squirrel shout simultaneously. "You think this was my choice?" Ladybug gestures in your direction. "Ugh!" she and Squirrel scorn.

A gust of wind blows by. She and Squirrel settle down on the ground as Ladybug zooms over their heads onto the stone upon which they were squirming. "That's better," Ladybug smiles. "Fuck you, Lingerer," she and Squirrel sigh.

^..^

You ought to know better than to leave unused/unneeded lights on.

^..^

But why?

Must she die?

After every lie?

^..^

"Stories either exist outside of an economic reality, or the economic reality is the story," Squirrel pontificates with a puff. "Where did you get that?" she asks, aroused. Squirrel hands the pipe over. "There are lots of stories that exist within economic reality that have nothing to do with the economic reality of 'reality,' today," Ladybug contributes. "Oh yea?" Squirrel challenges. "Maybe," Ladybug suggests. She and Squirrel exchange eye-rolls. 

She and Squirrel share puffs then pass the pipe to you. 

"No," she points, angry, "Go back."

She and Squirrel share puffs then pass the pipe to you. "Yea, now go on, say the parts you left out," she goads.

"You hit the pipe," you state. "Good," she smiles as she reaches for the pipe. 

"Leave the goddamn Lingerer alone," Ladybug pshts with all four top legs as it sits back on its haunches, tired, satisfied, ready for day. "Fuck you," Ladybug yawns.

The three fall asleep cuddled by the fire, backs against the stone. "Shut up," each of them groans independently, like drunk sailors.

What is a List but a prophecy of one's future?

On Jealousy

Her toes, wet, a significant splash of salty sea spits itself over her shins, a High Tide. The splash presses her into the future; she sees herself. Aglow. Awash. She's everything she's ever wanted to be. She's there. 

But it's not her. It's some other person who resembles her greatly.

Heat. Flushed. She fills with jealous rage at what is not, at what she is not. The overlap. The person she is not but wants to be sees her, looks over and smiles, "Oh to be in the same place at-not the same time." The person she is not but wants to be sighs a beautiful sigh of contentment. 

Her face, wet, the significant splash of salty sea slinks itself off her scalp, present. The splash recedes, a Low Tide. As she scrambles slowly down the shore to reach the significant splash of salty sea, she slides a hand into the water as the splash splashes her. The past. She sees herself, again, aglow, awash. She is everything she wishes she still was.

But it's not her. It's some other person who resembles her greatly.

Cool. Calmed. She fills with jealous sentiment at what no longer is, at what she was. The undertow. The person she was but no longer is looks at her and smiles, "Oh, to have been, to have been." The person she was but no longer is sighs an ugly sigh of smugness. 

She washes ashore. 

The squirrel, as it simmers, it speaks, "Took you long enough," and then he hits his joint hard. 

She rolls over and motions for the squirrel to come closer. Annoyed, the squirrel sits back and smirks, "As if," as he takes another puff. She slithers over to the squirrel's stone and props herself up. The squirrel, annoyed, holds the joint out to her, and she pulls long and hard. "I need a Frankie," she states as she sighs the smoke from her lungs. "There aren't any more, and if there were, I sure as fuck wouldn't let you smoke the whole thing by yourself," the squirrel eyerolls. 

"Whatever," she spits with another big inhale and slow, smooth exhale. 

The squirrel speaks, "Apparently;" she interrupts, annoyed, "What?" "We're early," the squirrel explains as a few "Fucks," exit her mouth in rapid succession. "Fuck." 

They each take another pull.

"How do you know this?" she asks. "That goddamn dragonfly basically confirmed it without me even asking. That asshole," squirrel responds. "Well, whatever," she scoffs. "Whatever?" squirrel challenges. "Yea. What. Ev. Er," she smacks along with her fingers gesturing a "W" and an "E." "Wow," squirrel yawns, "we really are early; you're still a fucking teenager." "Fuck you," she blows the squirrel kisses. Squirrel catches the kisses, because he must, but he does not want to accept them. "You have to," she explains. "Whatever," squirrel mimics. 

On Lists &List-Making

"Whose list is this?" you wonder in whisper. &Where the fuck am I? your mind whispers. The list sits loose between your fingers; you read it again.

Maybe it's not me, you console yourself; It's a common name, you decide.

"But is it?" you ask aloud, &then you start pacing.

"It is, but it isn't," you work out, "Cause, like, is this my list or am I an item on this list?" You stop cause something's in your shoe. You wriggle the thing free.

"If it's my list, then someone slipped it in my pocket?" you ask nobody in particular as you are alone, in a cold, dark cave, lined in ice, lit by a small wood fire. But you don't remember ever acquiring this particular list, so, "If I'm a line item on this list, what the fuck?" you shout, incensed at the thought, your voice echoing, echoing, echoing in the hollow cave.

"And where the fuck even am I?" you realize. Maybe I'm dreaming? Goddamn. You reach your hand out to the fire, No, fire's hot. 

"But..." you realize, "I am not cold, and I feel like I should be cold?" And why don't I remember anything? "No, I do remember, except that I'm not sure I should say what I remember aloud or even think it in my mind," you admit as you look over your shoulder at me. "What?" I ask, innocent. "I can hear you," you insist. "Hear what?" I challenge. You roll your eyes, "You're doing it, right now!" "Doing what?!" "Narrating!" 

^..^

The sun shines bright on a beautiful spring day on the horizon of the older woman's living quarters upon The Orbital, and as the squirrel, araft upon a thing of its own design and making, rides the creek—meandering, deeply, for the entirety of this day in a shallow valley through a forest—the creek opens out into a swaying field, and off in the distance the squirrel sees the middlemost peak where the three peaks meet, and at the base of the middlemost peak, the squirrel can see the green green hillside of the Listmaker's Ranch. 

The squirrel will not make it all the way to the Ranch by nightfall, and so, it sets up camp on the edge of the creek where it butts up nicely against a swaying field.

^..^

the first drop fell

and then it poured

for an entire week it rained

and then it rained more

^..^

"One leaf died last week," the dragonfly informs, "And another will die in the next week or two, and so, I know that you are not from when I am from." The squirrel looks embarrassed, "I'ma squirrel. I'm obviously not from whenever this is that we are now." Confident, like all dragonflies, the dragonfly rolls its eyes, "Obviously." "So, should I pay you your $5 now for the analysis, or...?" squirrel goads. Above all of this nonsense, the dragonfly flies away.

^..^

The squirrel prepares itself a joint and simmers on a stone as the sun sets slowly behind the middlemost peak where the three peaks meet, and as the creek splashes softly by, the squirrel jots down a short mental list of the various things it would very muchly enjoy eating, that should be readily available along its journey to the Ranch. The squirrel takes another big toke and enjoys its life as it watches the sky turn from sunset hues to vast darkness sprinkled with specks of shimmery dust. 

'TRANS-RACIAL' or TRANSRACIAL (but this way will alert spell check of an error) from my Point of View (cause, like, this is my fucking blog; why would you assume i'm speaking as anyone other than myself? huh?)

trans·racial 

"I know that I look Korean to you, or probably, more like 'Asian,' but you're not quite sure from where, specifically, so probably Chinese, but I am very, very, very white on the inside, because white people raised me."

Corrective action may or may not be taken. Either way, the insides don't really match the outsides in the way that one, who is not them, might perceive of them. 

Most are acutely aware of how stereotypes work. 

All have a heightened sense of awareness with regards to identity.

Yes, racism is real. 

&Yes, white people are very aware of the fact that racism exists; why else would I "need" such a white name? To ease my suffering. 

The Balls We Carry [are not equal]

She's born

&for a little while

if she's lucky

someone carries her

literally

someone hosts her life

hopefully

and all she does is eat, sleep and poop

&then

one day

she is given a small beach-ball-type ball 

a responsibility

the responsibility of not-pooping herself

learning, remembering that she has to pee and poop in a toilet

and for the most part, the ball is not very heavy,

maybe at first

it's a bit awkward

but it is not difficult, per se

to bear the weight of potty training

&then

another responsibility becomes hers

and that ball grows

in its size, shape, and weight

but she's stronger now

and the size, shape, and weight

hopefully

grows at the same pace as her strength

&then

for some like her

the size and weight of the "next" ball

that she's given to bear

is much larger in size and weight

much more awkward in shape

especially when compared

to other balls that are being carried

by people of a similar age

&then

she

the one with the overly large, awkward and heavy ball

compared to her age

grows even stronger than the rest

develops skills to manage such a size, shape and weight

that some

will never be able to bear

&she

becomes destined for

GREATNESS

because the balls that she's carried

carries

are incomparable

in size, shape and weight

to the balls of others

&so the inevitable will 

unfold.