Daily Bread, Alone?


I regret my resignations regarding the compulsions of my circumstance, yet, I am neither a conscript nor a diplomat in any war. Not ever again; given my admitted and acknowledged failures.

I was just thinking that few comprehend the limitrophic nature of “other” and that xenophobia and delusion often result.

I never lied in saying that I only have one desire. For years I believed in pure love as being inviolable, and I sought nothing other than my bride. I believed, in fact, in a transcendent love in a place where somehow a host of materiel could be taken for granted.

Yet, now, I say that there are two things I desire, and they are, essentially, security in place and my bride. Security in place I refer to as this federal cloister I have achieved resultant of my injuries.

My cloister is a permanent and guaranteed place though not necessarily entirely static here. Time has slowed. I proceed to objectives differently now. Reality is my self and soul at this static set amidst a flux of potential and possible phenomenon. The known can only be seen and felt within and then postulated, believed and promulgated to exist there external to my dead reckoned perimeter.

I wish I could explain the gravitas of my emergency security stance; and as though by imperial decree extrapolate my paranoias as not less of the OPEC typified paradigm of “marketplace” prices or any economic abstractions, yet, as a requisite transformation of popular DEMAND. And, reduced consumption of non renewable fuels should be seen as a form of global psychology never again enumerated. Aversion of a rapid terminal depletion of organic fossil carboniferous substrate reserves should be achieved by freedom and at a magnitude of perhaps 70%. I believe this because I believe in an impending fuels depletion apocalypse(*).

Yet, I cannot demand desirous pursuits end completely; as at times I have feared they have for me. So I maintain my stasis as I feel permissive of crusaders.

I am tired, and I am sick of the momentous, and so now I declare this my hermitage and await a woman to walk to me as my wife.

I have written science fiction regarding “metalloid synaptic pharmacology uplink therapies” where we sapiens meld our cerebellums with the magnetosphere. And, I refer to my phone as a plasma radio transponder videophone. It remains to be seen if utopia or dystopia is my fate.

I admittedly plan to stay in this security, broadcasting, in this federal cloister, and to follow all of my SSA orders. I thereby will stay inside the systematics of health and all heal that will never be an externality to our USA. Note that I cannot digress precisely here into the regional availability of healthcare debate.

In, I will be secure. In, there is giving for the broken and heroic. In, I confess I fight to retreat from troubles not my own, in a vigilance to avoid conscription again; forever and ready in my sick comfort of knowing I had to go. And, I go freely in my schism now, if real need were to arise.

Yet, I live in these shadows now. And, the paradox is that in this security I am as though in a cabin with only a blasting machine to power a morse key. I am here. Where is my wife? How will she and I traverse the abstraction between us?

I have learned not to take my physical existence lightly. Faith is referred to as daily bread. We ourselves need daily bread, and, not to be alone.

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