National Novel Writing Month 2018: Ashes of Parnassus

Synopsis

The decadence of the Chrome Age collapsed upon its own hubris, leaving the Worlds in ruins.  The Central government relinquished control to the state-worlds in the chaos.  Then on the verge of stability, the Ubiquity ravaged all.  Anything made with metal, all tech, broke their molecular bonds.  Humankind plunged into a pre-Bronze Age.

Space craft were saved from Ubiquity, but scattered to the edges of the galaxy, lest they succumb to the same ravages of destruction.  Worlds were abandoned, overcome by the nature that technology pushed away.  The humans left behind became animals.

On the science vessel Proust, the crew studying Ubiquity from afar believes they have found a way to process metal and overcome its destructiveness.  If they are correct, they have built the bridge that will save millions of lives across a dozen planets.

Excerpt

"The nominal level of debris surrounding any one of our dozen systems is impactful across 1.2 billion kilometers, orbital."  Teft flashed the monitors so that the historical citations firmly rooted themselves next to his data.  There were hundreds of governmental studies that cropped up on Ubiquity, effectively feeding into a single institute.  Teft was one of the last adherents to the Metallic Sciences Foundation, before it unceremoniously lapsed after the dispersion of all shifts beyond the orbital affected zone.

"There are known deviations to this.  Gravity wells.  Star corona.  These form paths, however, until three years ago, we could not 'see' these safety zones.  We were excited of course, but quickly found that they did not allow egress to most of the worlds, except one."  The image of the planet Arcārius came into view.  There was a path that brought most craft within hundreds of thousands of miles closest than any other planet.

Teft straightened his posture as he was to evoke the paper's name.  "In 2637-MSF-300837-WRIT-14-V-H, Metalurgical Stability of Transpurposed Composite, I must...we must traverse the space carved by Arcārius' star to come within 370,000 kilometers of the planet."

A well constructed animation visually walked through the effort that Teft described.  He loosened up and walked the stage, "I will need the following crew, fuel and craft to break through the effective area, assume descruction of the origin craft, land on the planet using composites as described before.  Once on the planet, I can build a fully operational facility to produce enough composite and prove out our working theory."

A hand was raised.  Dr. Philomea.  "And if it doesn't work?  We assume you are saying this is a one-way mission should you fail?"

"Correct.  The crew and myself will assume, if the collective theories do not hold true, that Arcārius would be our final home.  However, there is a bit of an out."  A new graphic showing an elliptical from the point of insertion.  "If we can prove out Ubiquity on the composite in the effective area, we have several minutes to shoot ourselves back toward the Proust.  Of course, using the correct protocols of sanitation.  If not, we would simply fly out into space."

Not even a chuckle.  Teft didn't expect one, but he half wanted to chuckle himself.

"I'll remind Senior Engineer Teft that suicide is not permissible.  You will have to prove the data to ensure us that your risk profile is low.  Lower than the mean."  Dr. Archer.  She shifted in her seat and her lips were pulled into a tight line.

Teft nodded.  "I can assure you by data my intention is purely risk adverse.  The reward however will outweigh the cost should we lose any of the two dozen lives that I ask committed to this task.  This is our best shot to save worlds and save ourselves."

He understood as he said that he had planet bias.  He did and he would doubt denying it.  The survival of the human and animal species depended on what the collect crafts could commit.

....

[short] Mega Force Ultra Imaginauts 8

Makoto's wrist communicator alarmed.  Tweee-eeep, tweee-eeep.  He leapt from his seat at school, which alarmed all the students and Mr. Tetsu.  Heads swung around to look.

"Forgive me, Tetsu-san!  I have urgent matters to attend to.  As you can hear, my communicator has alarmed.  It must be a city-wide emergency.  Professor Uri is asking for all Mecha R's to report at once!"

Mr. Tetsu likewise rose to his feet, as did the class, "Go Makoto!  Proceed at once and may the kami be with you!"

Makoto bowed and ran from the room, as he leapt from the doors of the school he quickly noticed the eerie calm that fell over his city, Yokohama.  The clouds were grey, but mottled oddly.  The ever present breeze was stilled.  What monster are we dealing with today?  His eyes narrowed as he saw that no one was watching.

"Mega Force Ultra 8!"  He shouted as he made the kanji of 'power' and 'wind' with his hands and arms.  The Mecha R super robot armor appeared on his body, protecting him from harm.  His wrist communicator made a victorious noise and Makoto knew he had successfully transformed into one of eight powerful robots that protected the metropolis of Tokyo.  He could hear Professor Uri in his headset.

"Makoto we have a profound emergency!  Mecha R 3 and 7 are already fighting in Saitama - there are three sea creatures there.  We need you, Mecha R 8 to get to the port as we see at least one creature there, overturning fishing boats.  Mecha R 2 will be joining you shortly!"

"Yes sir!  I am on my way!"  With that Makoto triggered power jets in his back and feet to launch into the air, and toward the port, which was just south-east of his school.  While he made the leap, he bent his arms to turn the jump into flight.  He checked his munitions and noted that he was at full strength.  He nodded the validation and made a call to his teammate, Hex.

"Hex!  Please report on the situation at the harbor..."

Hex had a wheeled chair that helped him move through-out the cavernous control center of the Imaginauts HQ.  He had to be able to turn the right dials and start the right mechanics if they were going to win the fight.  "Makoto!  Good to hear from you!  There is a Class B creature from the sea.  It has overturned several fishing boats and threatens to make it to the city.  You must stop it from extending beyond the port.  Lives are in the balance!"

"Thank you Hex.  I see the creature now!"

Below Mecha R 8's scanners, a large creature, made from seawood and oil, was writhing its long tentacles all over the harbor, crushing some fishing boats, while overturning others.  People were swimming to pier and scrambling up the netting.  Luckily, the creature doesn't appear to be concerned with people, just the boats.  Then, the creature dismantled key sections of the ships and made itself make-shift armor.  Makoto gasped.  He is making himself more powerful with the addition of the steel from those ships!  He noticed that the creature could also use the oil and gas from the harbor as a powerful weapon.  I must be careful!

Makoto turned on Mecha R 8's amplified speakers, "Creature, I do not know if you understand me, but you must stop this unprovoked attack.  Do you hear!?"  The creature only returned a barrage of oil and fire at him, which singed his armor.  If Makoto had not made an unparalleled movement at the last second, he would have been destroyed.  So that's the way it will be...

Mecha R 8's chest opened to reveal a series of missles, "Let's open with fire for fire!"  Makoto released the missles at the creature.  The explosion was fantastic and lit the bay for a short period of time in red light.  The creature screamed.

Makoto drew Mecha R 8 from the port, hopefully to lead the creature away...the plan worked!

The Class B creature then used all of the ships it had captured to create a body.  It stood on three legs and shielded its body.  It didn't work!  This time, it was the creatures time to attack - it was able to produce small bombs, launching them all at Mecha R 8.

Makoto was barely able to survive the attack, but did sustain damage.  He did have wrist guns.  He fired them at the beast while slowly receding toward the ocean.  I must get him away from the city.

The guns didn't do damage, Makoto could tell, but it did keep the attention of the beast.  It was then he heard his teammate on his headset, "Mecha R 8 this is Mecha R 2.  Do you need assistance?"

"I do, thank you Mecha R 2.  Missles don't seem to work, do you have any ideas?"

"Hm.  You've done an excellent job leading him from sure.  Perhaps we need to figure out a way to put this seaweed creature on ice?"

"Excellent!  What do you propose?"

Mecha R 2 flew across the path of the creature to keep its attention toward the ocean, "We can do this, we just need to think!"

The creature enveloped more boats and was making its way to a container frigate.

"Whatever the plan is, we must find it quickly!"

[end of section]

[rough] "Daughter Vengence"

"I sat with my father only once.  I agonized over it.  After it was over, I understood all I wanted to do was overcome that feeling.  That stupid feeling of completing something because it had stuck in the brain, like a shopping list."  She twirled the mug around.  Only a little coffee was left, smearing the bottom like ink.

She leveled her eyes on me.  Grey.  Not the slightest glint of tears in them.

"I've tried not to become hard.  But it caught up with me.  Tried not to be like him, and I couldn't escape it."  She stopped twirling the mug on its edge.  "Here we are."

I measured my voice.  I didn't want to come off the wrong way.  "Why does it have to be like that?  We asked for something different..."

"Doesn't matter."  I wanted to argue the point, but now was not the time.  I picked up my mug even though it was mostly empty and acted a sip.

She pulled a tendril of hair back.  Her sleeve dropped with it, revealing a portion of her markings.  She was not shy showing them, to the contrary.  But she didn't advertise either.  "I've told you more than I've told anyone else.  I suppose that is why you are good at what you do."

"I've seen you dance.  You are good at what you do."

She didn't smile.  I didn't expect her too.  I would have in others.

Quickly, "Did the song come before the dance?"

A slight shudder in her shoulders.  I hit a nerve.  You are not so hard then.  No one is.

"The song came first.  Years before.  I was just a little girl and didn't even know of it for some time.  The dance...that drifted in my mind for just as long.  So, yeah, I think they evolved together."  Chuckle.  Not light or sharp.  "I sometimes think it's more than me.  Or him.  I guess it had to be."

"That's profound."

She didn't shrug.  I did expect her to.

"What am I then?  If this is more than me?"  She stared at me for an answer.  I asked the waitress for a refill.

  

[short/rough]: Poorer Offerings the Wiser

laid at your feet

All that I had...all of what I could be
my heart, for what it's worth, may hold some value
to anyone other
could be brave, take my gaze, tell me what it amounts
even as a mere acquaintance I should feel more value than 

an abjected ally now
am I so easily cast, after all?

was it age, or time, or unintended me 

which detracted that first entrancing gleam
where I did my best to prove, that it was love (the best of what I could)
no small offerings here
just say the word
any one will do
and proof will be given

but being met in silence
or fear
or the mild misunderstanding that creates derisiveness
the light snarl of the lip
the flippancy of action
and it cuts me to the core
and I'll admit it
I'll tell you I wish it weren't so

but here it is

and how, or, by what means do you weigh an offered love?
impossible measures never met?
impassable climes of situational perfection?
unfathomable riches you'll heed in anyone else but me?
where I'm encumbered in admirable stones
aglow with the bright tones, respect and love
sigils of what is best, perhaps misplaced
assuredly
but where I could assure is that
if you simply accept them
hesitancy would fall away for you would see them true and not to harm

but in hailing, providing clarity
without no other desire than acceptance
all given
no one thing in return

where your lips would only be happily met in eager warmth
eyes that ignore the passing pleasures of the age to stare at you
and revel in the the darker hues when you look at mine
I sense subtlety
and done what i could to embrace yours
yet here we are
impassable, unfortuitous
lost.

[drink] the Dorsey Penicillin

The Venetian's Cocktail Lounge, the Dorsey, makes a refreshing and memorable Penicillin, a drink that's made the rounds of late.  In it's 'Conversation Pieces' section of its cocktail menu, it's simply listed as scotch, fresh lemon, ginger, honey & an Islay [scotch] float.  Breaking down a version for home, meaning we don't want to necessarily break the bank, may take some finesse.

The cocktail itself was created in 2005 by NY bartender Sam Ross.  Meant to be a cure-all, because of it's reliance on two very important (and I would note some Asian-influence) ingredients, the ginger, lemon and honey.  As prepared, it's meant to be sipped, breaking through the layer of Islay scotch.  It is there that you break through that smokey start and into the citrus sweet in the body.

To finish, you have a candied ginger, that gives you sweet sharp candy...and a hope to cure your ails.

Vegas has its atmospheric challenges, for those that go often.  The mixture of dryness and constantly air-conditioned air.  Smoke.  Among the global vector of people...I like to enjoy this drink a few times during a stay.  Not demonstrably, but, by belief, it helps keep me going.

So, to make a home version that recognizes we aren't all jet-setters with deep pockets:

The drink first starts with a honey-ginger syrup.  Honey, ginger and a cup of water, reduce and chill overnight.  Strain to keep it clear of any solids.  Take some care in its preparation for best results.

In a cocktail shaker:
- 2 oz of Glenlivet Single Malt Scotch Whiskey - ranges from $75-$90 - I enjoy this particular scotch for its refined taste and good pairing in cocktails
- 3/4 oz fresh lemon juice - and use real lemons, avoiding the plastic yellow one, with no offense against it, but the tones are much different
- 3/4 oz of the honey-ginger syrup
- ice

Give it a good shake, taking care to feel the temp of the shaker and consider not allowing too much ice to melt in the process.

If we are following the Dorsey, strain over a massive cube of ice, in a traditional 'old fashioned' cocktail glass.  You know, like a half-sized tumbler.  A glass is important for any cocktail to maintain flavor.

Layer the drink with a splash of Laphroaig Islay Single Malt Scotch Whiskey - ranges from $75.  Don't overpower the drink, a light 'shot' suffices here.  Laphroaig is a totally doable Islay with a nice cask taste of peat and oak.

Wrap it up with candied ginger.  Now, fair warning, it is sometimes hard to find at normal supermarkets.  You'll have better luck at a Sprouts or Whole Foods.

Let me say that you want all of this to complete the drink.  I have tried variants, without even close results.
...
As to the namesake -

We owe great credit, as a civilization, to Dr Alexander Fleming.  In 1928, while studying colonies of Staphylococcus aureus (you'll know it as a staph infection), good ol' Penicillium notatum prevented its growth.  It was not until Dr. Howard Florey (with biochemist Dr Ernst Chain) saw the research some 10 years later and then 'industrailized' it for practical use.

The first recipient of the refined pencillin did well, then died, but it proved enough of its worth to continue what would ultimately become a success.  It's interesting to note that the first recipient merely scratched his face while gardening, with a streptococci and staphylocci spread to his eyes and scalp - then death.  Not cool.

Drink well!  For the full site visit, edwardianjackal.com.

[If you want to replicate the bubble bottom glasses of the Dorsey, Walmart has a similar set.]
...

[listen] night sounds

hot nights mean cruising, cruising on hot nights leans on a solid mix tape

night sounds s1e1 https://edwardianjackal.podbean.com/e/edwardianjackalcom-podcast-night-sounds/

night sounds s1e2 https://edwardianjackal.podbean.com/e/edwardianjackal-night-sounds-s1-e2/

night sounds s1e3 https://edwardianjackal.podbean.com/e/edwardianjackal-night-sounds-s1e3/

...

[rhyme] la femme dangereuse

SHE collects their attention, steals any modicum of silence
or solace yet claims nothing
as if each glance were but a breath
taken but unremembered
where the fancy and object of desire is calm as silk
the fancier is brutalized
hungering for that which will only escape him
clamor in want
that will never, ever come
the animus fills
and the sheets soak in fitful, quiet rage
leading each time, every time, to hate
HER name
Soir de Paris in lace that was begged for as consolation
the feel of her skin, where one would swear it never touched before
and the reaction, the moment where the entire frame could be felt
and almost yours
and, as fleeting as it was,
the next instant the distance
insurmountable and cold

the eyes lost from you
not as if forgotten, even in a loss of memory, in the least there is a thread
that could be pulled
but not here

you are kept alive for some time
to extract what is needed to keep Guerlain upon those lips
Balenciaga on her shoulder
Lightly playing with langoustines a la vapeur at Hostellerie Jerome
After riding a young man from Brussels since lunch

Perhaps it's us
What does the hunt for the elusive
in the end
gain?

[eye] The Majesty of Hearst Castle

There's always been a rush for me when visiting Hearst's 'Castle' - or as he coined it, 'La Cuesta Encantada', The Enchanted Hill.  There's a wild mix of what is the core of California - the natural beauty of the area, the unspoiled vistas, the lunancy of business, the legacy of Hollywood.  Hearst was a genius, there's no denying that.  The care in each placement of a tree, or statue, or fountain is undeniable.

The Roman Pool is otherworldly.  It's as if an ancient Roman bath was lifted back from time.  It is grand and terrifying.  Dark.  It is a daunting pool compared to what we know in California otherwise - the safety of light and air. The ability to see the pool's floor...here a chorus of tile and shadow.

This happy statue used to sit directly outside the main door, but has been brought in to safe it from the weather.

One could only imagine the discussions that went on in this smoking room, whose ceiling needs to be meticulously cleaned from the ravages of cigarettes and cigars.

short (draft): the Parnassus, Symmetry and Law

Aristotle and Buridan both pondered symmetry in the Universe.  A man (or in the latter's case, an ass), provided equal portions of food and water within reach, may likely starve if he lacks sufficient reason to choose one or the other.  It sounds unreasonable for any creature to starve, but the underlying logic is sound - the creature will have to make up a reason to break the symmetry of the choice.

So Man has made the Universe operate within Law, and symmetry is likely to be found.

But, if was Harithren in 2085 that found that symmetry is false.  Where behaviors of magnetism or gravity or Newtonian Law appear to be sound and replicable, there is the Harithren Dispute.  This Dispute allows for a single, and only a single, string of an absolute asymmetrical construct that induces symmetry.  A general Law is upheld.  The singular Dispute as well.

If not for Harithren, we would not have found the muon counter-effect.  The elegance and simplicity of the string provided us faster than light travel, where the general Law could not allow.

The Parnassus had the MCE Generator, which amplified the counter-effect, and space time was malleable.  We only had to point to a direction of space, account for various affectations in the travel, based upon Dispute knowns (47 in the case of extra-stellar travel).

Now commonplace, I have seen space grow dark - as trillions of starlight points pull upon itself.  I have not seen, but other Captains have, seen to within minutes of the Singularity.  Best not to think on it is the usual refrain.  The AI takes care of most of it and I have another 12 physicists assigned to me that take only fractions of the overall MCE calculations.  No one human could ever take that on.  The AI computational use is completely given over with 30% overhead so we don't disintegrate.  [A sister ship, a B-Class Haul Frigate, attempted to apply an AI to a singularity, Lord know what they were thinking, and the ship stopped.  Only 27% of the souls were saved.]

During sub-light, the Generator Crew is on high alert and are not allowed to do anything but monitor AI and continuously run calculations.  Getting into sub-light is the easiest part, the traverse is harrowing, but it is re-entry that will get you.  Arnof said that, and used 'get' where he wanted to use 'kill'.  No one on a star ship used language that could be deemed unlucky.

In sub, environment and comms were the only allowable functions.  It was a bit of a break for almost all the rest of the crew.  We were called to quarters, except for me and my executive crew.  Even then, I let them do what they did best.  I monitored their progress from my ready room, where I put them on the monitors.  All was nominal.

I sat back and thought of reading up on reports of the quadrant we were visiting.  The area was of interest as it's spectrograph spiked on having an asteroid field of some size with granirum - necessary for the production of super station frames.

It was a one week [relative] trip out, five days of study, and another week back.  The geologists were anxious and the pressure was mostly on them.  Our instruments were good, but we would have to send precise locations for the mining syndicate to be of any value.

The hum continued and took me from the reports.  I instead snuck in an organic tea and a physical solitaire game to reset my thoughts. The starlight returned in parts, but the pattern wasn't recognizable.  I got dressed into my tactical uniform and had to pay a visit to the MCE.

As I walked aft, a fleeting thought came in about a different Dispute, then was suddenly lost.  I let it go and hoped it would drift back to me again.

vis: pelicula en blanco y negro

clarity writ in dark and light
lines comforting
where cacaphony's a spectrum
an unrelenting array
but here, but three - shadow, white and in between

a soft sweater on a cool day
a buffet against a harsher wind
mellowing it to a light, cool whisper
the fog to separate harshness
otherwise

this or that, or somewhere in between
is all

focus is effortless
edging the primordial
time between day and night
where tremulous we tread
and only breath
and relish the pause

~ 25jun18

short (draft): Commander of the Parnassus

I.

When you've spent enough time on a star ship, the hum became its 'signature' - a unique combination of systems running nominally.  Chirps, persistent hums, even the occasional easing of hull frames - combined, they form a bit of a song.  As captain of the Parnassus, I pause constantly to attune myself to the correct correlation of multiple, persistent sound.  At this instant, it had the right combination...particularly from the ready room.  The engine, the vibration of the surfaces in the room, the feel of the air and, one area I was sensitive to, the very pressure was at a rate that was nominal.  Nominal may sound an odd description, but the variances of a star ship were such that nominal would only be about half of the time.  Dangers persistent at all times, unless you were in the embrace of dry dock.  [Not to say there haven't been accidents in dock.]  The whole business was precarious to the core.

Being sensitive to changes in pressure is a critical trait for me.  It has saved me, and thus the crew, on a variety of occasions.  The same sensitivity I require in my own executive staff.  Tanishe is my nose, Karl my skin, Farshad my ears - so much so my less sensitive staff relied upon the four of us at crucial times where emotions were high and the proclivities of the Parnassus AI, Daedalus, were not so easily trusted.  AI, after all, has no nose, skin or ears.  It can easily tell you the composition of the air, but mild variations did not trigger where a human's does.  We are trained to trust our instincts...Daedalus simply couldn't be relied upon in the same way.

My desk was a mess and it bothered me.  There was a ceremony where the Parnassus and its crew were honored guests and required to be the emissaries for the Federalist Government.  I have about 25% new staff and 'new' in they just walked off the fields of Academy.  They were taking a crash course in diplomacy from my best.  "Better to keep one's mouth shut in all cases where a glint in the eye and a pleasant smile are what's wanted."  I had to remind them that we are star hoppers and not politicians.  Thank God.

The ship had just dodged a bullet when a piece of NRD, naturally recurring debris, had struck a radiation vent.  We had to immediately stop the ship and the whole procedure required that we hold down, no engine use for at least 36 hours.  Givvy and the engineering crew got us back up and running within 5 hours and Focus [special tactical teams that were called upon based upon skill, shift and situation] allowed us to move on...only because of the time table to get to Trious for the ceremony.  I shifted the reports around a bit, and that was a dangerous move, as the work may have been truncated, but we risked having an issue that would make the 36 hours look like a drop in the hat if it cropped up.  'Focus' was critical - we assigned a crew and they were responsible for the calls, easing the burden on the rest of the team to continue their normal duties.  I took a page from Admiral Chartain in that I always assigned a Maverick.  A single person to monitor from afar and let me know if Focus was off the mark.

"Engineering?"

"Sir?"

"Is this Stafford?"  She hailed from Angel's Nest.  A right functioning cadet - quick and bright.

"Yes sir!"

"Did Givvy put the radiation venting on a monitored cycle?  And what is our current through put?"

A pause.  "Yes, we are monitoring every 5 minutes with an AI and a visual check.  We have a glass on the vent and it looks clean at the moment.  Still have the damage around it, but it is wide enough not to heat up.  Our current through-put is .26.  We cut it back and it has been holding."

"Very good Stafford.  Please contact the bridge for any deviation from .26, we'll shut the engine immediately.  Also, please express to the crew that I've personally asked for the five minute intervals.  I don't want us gimped or dead because someone could respond to a timer."

"Yes sir.  I'll re-express it the crew."

"Can you ask Valerie on our current time deviation with Trious?"

"Stand-by."  Relative time was ascertained against the Earth quantum time, the ship clocks (mean, determined, relative), and a deviation time given against the way-point or destination quantum.

"Twelve hours, 36 minutes.  It is currently April 3rd, 11:00a relative to Earth."  It popped up on the screen.  Valerie was quick.

"Thanks Stafford and Valerie.  Out."

I turned attention to the status reports of the various governments convening at Trious.  We have the Federalists, and only the Parnassus in attendance, we are a hybrid ship, so we don't upset anyone expecting a particular flub in diplomacy.  We represent engineering, command, science, operations and military.

The Trious were hosting.  The world was well known for its cultural significance.  It was playing host to two primary factions...those of the inner and outer colonies.  The ceremony was nothing new, it was seven years old at this point, but all agreed the discussions needed to still happen to keep that fragile piece.  There was some outskirt skirmishes still popping up here and there.  Mineral and water rights were always under fire.  Poor haulers.

The third focus was on reports of real troublemakers, particularly those that saw the Federalists as empire.  We do our best to remain neutral in almost all things, but we do put domain on all commodities as a matter of course.  This star ship, as lovely and right lined as she is, only existed because of these commodities.  In turn, we kept the peace.

I read the status and viewed some extranet vids.  Trious had a general warning, but nothing specific.  

I knew some of the folks at a nearby trading station...Keystone was one, a trader, and Lamphrey the other, a fueling specialist.  If we have time, I'll put to the XO crew on my intention.  I'd like to take the Parnassus to refuel and to fix the vent.  Meanwhile, I'd use the trip to gather more information for the Federalist docket on this issue...they've named it ZDIE0384.  Hopefully my information may provide more help on finding their point of origination.

I rubbed my eyes.  I needed to sleep.

"Sev?"

"This is Console."

"What our eta to the next waypoint?"

"2 point...34 hours."

"I'm going to strap down in the ready room.  My shift is up in 5."

"Roger sir.  We'll chime you if there's anything out of the ordinary."

"Out."

I immediately shifted the seat down and strapped myself in.  I needed the sleep, and it came quickly.
...

March is American Red Cross Month

Find your inner hero!

March is American Red Cross Month find out all sorts of ways to get involved, albeit it may be a lot like Sparta - either blood or coin, hoo-hoo-hoo!  Folks may not know, but blood and other blood products save lives - like really, really save lives...perhaps yours or someone you love.  Considering giving - the process is so painless and easy...you'll be suprised!

I typically give whole blood, but recently tried giving plasma - either one is easy-peasy.  Have questions, just stop by your local ARC and ask.

witness: Mr. Sebian Holiday

Update: it breaks my heart completely that Sebian passed away on 6/20.  https://denver.cbslocal.com/2018/06/20/sebs-rec-center-aurora-sebian-holiday/ Please consider giving to Seb's Rec Center and/or the Muscular Dystrophy Association https://www.mda.org/ as the latter looks to find answers to https://www.mda.org/disease/mitochondrial-myopathies.

~~~

Sebian.  When I hear his story and I see his struggle, I am awed by his capacity for bravery.  The strength of spirit where pain and angst and what should be hopelessness are overcome.  My own struggles and concerns are not as much petty as they are dust.

The coalescing of the best is in him.  He is the promise of hope, what is best of humanity.  Pure: he is freed of so many other imperfections.

I long to know more Sebians or his father.  I've been misfortunate to know souls that are slivers of good.  They are shadows of what could be.  Whispers of songs.  Cries for self.  Temples of sand.

Its been much rarer to know good.  Selflessness.  True strength.  The Faithful.  Simple kindness.

Can we do more?  Just a little kindness?  Can we be as transformative in life as he?  Can we pray for a miracle?  That more could see him and care?

https://www.sebsrec.org/donate.html

9News Package

hear:Lake Street Dive

Simply...so...amazing.

http://www.lakestreetdive.com/