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When the journey seems futile…

I first read this post and it brought tears to my eyes… I don’t know, the honesty of it, perhaps, they humanity of it, certainly. Then I read it again and commented, in a rather, I don’t know, stupid way – shallow, self-centered. So I read it again, and again. I saw that Roger at Woebegone but Hopeful reblogged it… so I read it again by going through his blog, and those words of Lisa Palmer kept gnawing at me. I’m reblogging it here, perhaps in the hope of seeing more comments on it. Maybe take a few minutes to read it, then let Lisa know what you make of it. Thank you.

the otherhood of one

I know I’m not alone in feeling this way, as though all of my efforts have failed.  As though every single thing I have attempted to accomplish in my life has fallen short; it simply isn’t enough to get the job done.  As though my very tenacity and determination to continue are some sort of cosmic joke being played upon me and my psyche.  Like failure itself was written into my karma and destiny…

And when that feeling overwhelms me, and I am convinced I simply cannot try anymore, when everything within me seeks shelter from the never-ending storm, I crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep.  Hoping, and sometimes praying, that this journey will soon end for me…

But I wake up again.  Always.  Disappointed.  Discouraged.  Angry, even, at why this life won’t let me go!  And then…

Some time during that hopeless day, some thing will happen…

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Grabber the Cancer Cell

[a short story by ~burning woman~ ]

When little Grabber Gulp was born, he was adored by all. Some even said he was the cutest little Cancer cell they had ever seen. He was a jolly little cell who enjoyed his food immensely. Momma Gulp was so very proud of her little Cancer she took him everywhere to show him to everyone she knew.

These were good times for Grabber. That was some time ago.

Grabber grew and became aware of his world, or “host” as his fellow Cancers called it and as his teachers insisted he labeled it. As he learned Cancer history, Grabber Gulp became introspective and tried to understand his species versus the one his “host” consisted of. He explored some of the more populated parts of the host in his neighbourhood. It began to dawn on him that there were simply too many Cancers upon it and inside it. He began to feel the unease, then the pain, Cancers caused the host. This troubled him though he could not be sure why.

The Gulps were quite well-off, as Cancers consider such, so Grabber was encouraged to further his education. Being quite bright for a Cancer, they sent him to the best Cancer universities. Grabber learned quickly. He soon understood how everything in his civilization was interconnected and designed strictly for exponential growth. He grasped the concept that if his civilization ever sought to balance itself; to stop expanding and change to a *steady state of non material growth, it would die.

What Grabber also came to realize was that the opposite was equally true: that if his species continued to expand exponentially at the expense of its host, it would simply overwhelm the host’s ability to maintain itself in a state that would feed and support his species. The host, he reasoned from his studies and personal observations, was actually dying and it was the Cancers that were the cause of it.

Further studies showed that many scientists all over the host were aware of the problem but were not allowed to talk about it. They were charged with finding solutions to the threatened end of the Cancers should something terrible happen to the host.

Some were attempting to discover means whereby the Cancers could be propelled across space into a new host. Others believed that the Cancer civilization could be balanced; that a substantial population of Cancers, ideally the current one, could survive on the current host if certain areas of the host’s anatomy were declared reserves, or preserves, just enough so the host wouldn’t die.

Grabber wasn’t impressed with any of that.

“The problem we’re faced with,” said Grabber Gulp to a group of students he had become spokesperson for, “is that too many Cancers believe the host’s resources are practically infinite and capable of accommodating a lot more Cancer population. Too many believe that if we dig deeper, literally or not; if we develop more esoteric technology we can extract more resources in places our species had never even known existed. We can feed all the Cancers on this host and much, much more. We’re the intelligent species here, and we rule the host.

This hubris, people, is going to be the end of our civilization, and of ourselves. When our host dies, we die.”

That sort of talk didn’t go well at all in Grabber’s world. Predictably he lost his tenure at the university where he’d begun teaching. As he was leaving he was warned by the president to watch what he said from now on.

Until now grabber had spent his entire life on an area of the host called the “Left-Breast.” It was an affluent area of the host and Grabber realized no one was going to support him in his crusade to make Cancers understand the danger they were in as long as things continued reasonably well. He decided to emigrate to a much more crowded and poorer area of the host called the “Right Thigh.”

On his very arrival the conditions he observed there totally shocked him. There was mass starvation as the area had been overcrowded and stripped of resources for some time. Cancers were dying everywhere but that wasn’t the worst of it. The entire Right Thigh was itself dying. The blood was so badly infected that many Cancers were dying of thirst and a host of diseases they didn’t even have names for. The smell of death was everywhere.

Grabber realized that what was happening on and in the Right Thigh was soon going to happen to his home area. Unable to do anything to alleviate conditions in the Right Thigh he returned to his home, determined to prevent a complete physical collapse and death of the Left Breast. He began a series of lectures, showing videos and documentaries he had smuggled out of the Right Thigh along with his own pictures of hundreds, even thousands, of dead and dying Cancers along the blood vessels.

One night as he pondered his next speech in a hotel room, the door was forced open and a dozen police Cancers pounced on him, threw a black bag over his head and dragged him downstairs and into a waiting vehicle. He was taken to an interrogation center where he was tortured and drugged. In his torpor he signed a document stating that everything he’d claimed to have seen was lies; that his documentaries and videos were the fabrications of Right Thigh terrorists who wanted to destroy the economy of the Left Breast.

After he signed the document, Grabber was thrown head first into an incinerator.

(For some thoughts on “steady state economy” see



Just have to reblog this article. Some people have the courage to tell the truth and reveal the real picture. When Americans stop funding and supporting their military Killing Machine then they might have a chance at stopping their home-grown one. The entire country is a killing machine, a culture of egregious violence it has exported world-wide.



Well “Mad dog Mattis”, our beloved Secretary of Defense, has admitted that the 80 plus living people who are dead now after President Dump bomb the Syrian Airbase with Tomahawk missiles in 2017 didn’t have to die.


Remember that entire thing about Obomber’s “red line in the sand” and the criticism he received because HE DIDN’T bomb Syria for the gas attack in 2013. He didn’t have clear evidence that Assad really used sarin gas. And then later it was shown that “our” terrorists were the ones that used it.

So Obomber not retaliating was due to lack of clear evidence. And rather than blunder with death and destruction he stepped back.

However LittleLimpDickTrump RUSHED to bomb the Syrian Airbase and kill 80 plus people with no…

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In the Hands of Madmen: A Future Hiroshima and a Silent Mass Media…

While I’m focusing on the possible end of the world through the unleashing of nuclear first strike – for the second time in my life, the last being the Cuban Missile Crisis when I was still in grade school but remember only too well, I thought I ‘d post this article by

the burning blogger of bedlam

The cultural. The political. The weird. And Things That Go Bump in the Night…

via In the Hands of Madmen: A Future Hiroshima and a Silent Mass Media…

Do you ever get the feeling that our collective destiny or well-being is in the hands of madmen?

Something very worrying has been suggesting itself for a while now – a notable change in language that I was beginning to notice over the last two years or so: but which has very much come more sharply into focus in recent weeks.

Specifically, I’m referring to the strange way that it suddenly has become acceptable for officials or strategists to talk about nuclear strikes in terms of ‘first use’ or preemptive strikes.

The accepted language or dynamics surrounding nuclear weapons or policy seem to have shifted at some point in the last two years – and it seems like something we should be very concerned about. Unfortunately, mainstream media outlets seem to be entirely uninterested.

Why it has particularly come into focus right now is because of the new ‘US Nuclear Posture Review’, which emerged about two weeks ago, and which one observer has described as ‘the world’s most dangerous document’.

This seems to have been a very, very serious document with big implications – but it also appears to have been broadly ignored by the media: despite concerns that the 2018 Nuclear Posture Review (NPR) essentially paves the way for a nuclear-weapons-based mass murder of civilians on a par with Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The NPR essentially seems to justify the idea of nuclear first use or preemptive strike by the United States. In a world in which no country but the United States has previously carried out a nuclear attack, it is rather unsettling that the notion of preemptive nuclear attack is now being openly discussed or envisioned.

Two weeks ago, Jan Oberg, writing at The Transnational, aptly noted the overwhelming media silence on the subject: ‘The mainstream media are totally irresponsible in their priorities. At the moment of writing, five hours after the world’s most dangerous document was presented, no major Western media has featured it prominently. This means it won’t be. No chance it would go viral. The increasing risk of nuclear war isn’t important. What threats to humanity end up at the bottom of page 38 after 10 pages of sports, entertainment and celebrity stories…?’


Indeed, the mainstream media coverage of this subject has been non-existent, as far as I can tell. Most people probably never heard about the NPR at all.


This seems to be a serious shift in the mindset regarding nuclear weapons, with the prevailing view having previously been that the WMDs were meant as a deterrant only: the threat of mutually-assured destruction ensuring that such weapons were never actually intended to be used.

But even more worrying than this shift in language or policy is the implication of the ‘first use’ or preemptive option being applied even in a scenario that doesn’t involve the mutual threat of nuclear weapons. So, for example, in January (a couple of weeks before the NPR was rolled out), the Pentagon had even proposed using nuclear weapons in response to a cyber attack.

What? A nuclear response to a cyber attack? What world are we living in?

Again, do you ever get the feeling our fate rests in the hands of madmen?

I published a long article here a few years ago on the 70th anniverary of the attack on Hiroshima, exploring the horrific effects of it, the events leading to that act, the moral conflict among key figures in the US, the psychology of it, the propagandising for it, and the ongoing question of whether it was in any way a justified act. Arguably, that question remains divisive, with permanent arguments and counter-arguments (even if most people are morally horrified by the dropping of the atomic bomb).

But what’s extraordinary is that, in 2018, there isn’t even the debate – or the hint of moral conflict. Just a casual roll-out of an official nuclear posture that seems to indicate a first-strike policy being justified. And a media that doesn’t seem to care.

I have also been concerned lately with the increased talk by political figures in the UK (including Michael Fallon and Theresa May) about nuclear strikes, including ‘first strike’ options. It had struck me, a year or so ago, when I heard British politicians talking about first-strike possiblities, that this was new language being casually used where it wouldn’t have been in the past.

Be clear that the UK seems to be a part of this equation as well: or at least part of the new language or posturing.

Paul Rogers, of the Global Security Consultant to Oxford Research Group, warns that ‘Current revision of the United States’ declared nuclear posture is only the most visible manifestation of adjustments to all the main nuclear arsenals, with the UK at the vanguard of deploying technologies potentially calibrated for pre-emptive rather than retaliatory strike.’

I was also worried by the fact that President Trump’s military decided to drop the biggest non-nuclear bomb (MOAB) since World War II on a cave complex in Afghanistan instead of using a more conventional weapon – as if they were very much trying to send out a broader signal.


As I’ve said here before, at some other time or in some other circumstances, we might rely on cooler heads prevailing.


But we’re in the President Trump era now; in which provocations and a glorying in military firepower seems to be the order of the day. With a military-industrial complex that has its saviour in the form of Donald Trump (and a Donald Trump who says things like “if we have nukes, why can’t we use them?”), you might fear that the omens aren’t great.

And that’s before you even think about the spectacled megalomaniac in Pyonyang.

About a year ago, in an article about the nuclear-strike drill/exercise that was then being conducted in New York (‘Operation Gotham Shield’), I was speculating that the reason for the large-scale drill was to practise for a potential retalliatory strike by North Korea, Russia or China in response to what would be a future first strike by the US.

I wrote then that ‘it should probably be considered that the drill/exercise might have the hypothetical scenario be a *retaliatory* attack by one of those foreign powers…’

I was only speculating then: but this NPR announcement seems to strongly suggest the Pentagon is seriously considering future nuclear attacks. Or, perhaps more confusingly, that they simply want to terrify or intimidate rival powers with the idea that the US would strike first.

But even that latter scenario seems to be incredibly dangerous.

Paul Craig Roberts was hinting a year ago at ‘changes in US war doctrine that indicate that Washington is preparing a preemptive nuclear attack on Russia and China…’. And he warned, ‘It is extremely dangerous to all of mankind for Washington to convince two nuclear powers that Washington is preparing a preemptive nuclear strike against them. It is impossible to imagine a more reckless and irresponsible act.’

But, again, what’s also really curious is the mass media silence on the subject.


Read more:Hiroshima & the Destroyer of Worlds: Was It Justified…?‘, ‘Is the US Preparing for Nuclear False-Flag…?‘, ‘North Korea & the Nuclear Threat – Real or Staged…?


We Will Remember Freedom: Why It Matters that Ursula K. Le Guin Was an Anarchist

I don’t do a lot of reblogs, probably not enough, but this one, well, it screamed “Re-Blog Me!” So I did. The post will introduce itself, I would only make a mess of it. I have read several Ursuly K. LeGuin books. The ones mentioned here are must read.


I’ve never liked the part of the story when the mentor figure dies and the young heroes say they aren’t ready to go it alone, that they still need her. I’ve never liked it because it felt clichéd and because I want to see intergenerational struggle better represented in fiction.

Today I don’t like that part of the story because… I don’t feel ready.

Last week, I lived in the same world as Ursula Le Guin, a grandmaster of science fiction who accepted awards by decrying capitalism and seemed, with every breath, to speak of the better worlds we can create. On Monday, January 22, 2018, she passed away. She was 88 years old and she knew it was coming, and of course my sorrow is for myself and my own loss and not for a woman who, after a lifetime of good work fighting for what she believed, died…

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The Sword, the Bow and the Staff – Part 9

To  go on with the story then…

While Nal was thus lost in her deep thoughts, yet not unaware of the world around her, morning came. The pink glow spreading softly across distant bare rounded hills promising another beautiful sunny day contrasted sharply with the retreating darkness of night in the west.

Lo woke up from his much needed sleep, got up and stretched in that feline way of his. He turned and greeted Nal. She stood up also and they walked to each other to hug and kiss. There was a groan from the sleeping roll and the girl Donna pushed herself out also. She looked around confused as her thoughts slowly came together but she could not remember the strange events that had brought her to this place.

“Do you know this place, Donna?” Asked Nal.

“No, I have no idea where we are. I’ve never been out of my village!”

“We think your village lies somewhere to the south. We saw a smoke haze in that direction yesterday and we thought maybe it was from the many wood burning fireplaces.”

“It could be, I don’t know. How did I get here? What am I doing here?”

Lo looked over at Nal and winked. He whispered, “Your ‘imparting of alternate realities’ may need some fine adjustments! She doesn’t remember anything at all of the vicissitudes of her ordeals and journey. You’re going to have to explain to her how she got here, huh? Make it nice.” His tone should have warned her he was being quasi-serious, too intent on enjoying her presence and the day to become serious, but she was still in her sombre mood. She replied:

“I will Lo. I will create a plausible scenario that will suit her situation, but only if I must. It may not be necessary to go back to yesterday.”

“I sense some sadness and deep seriousness about you this morning Nal. What happened during your watch?” He suspected he knew, but he wanted her to say it.

“Remember the other day when you made me see my own innate evil? I’ve been thinking about that. I am growing in all kinds of new ways, discovering powers of mind and body I had no idea could exist. Do you have any idea what an evil minded person could do with such powers?”

“Oh, I know that only too well, Nal and so will you very soon. Those two remaining Alay I told you about, the ones we are both training ourselves to meet and defeat, they are the embodiment of what you said. Empowered evil. They are probably the two most powerful evil entities alive on this world. But now is not the time to discuss this, we need to feed our friend here and get her back to her village. Priority one. And we need to develop a strategy to hunt down and kill her assailants. Priority two that cannot be avoided.”

While they were talking they had been aware that Donna had climbed down the rock and walked away to relieve herself, then down to the pool to drink and wash her hands and face, using the fine sand at the bottom as an abrasive cleanser. They noticed her looking about, searching among the spiky gorse and other weeds. She pulled out some roots, broke off the stems, washed them in the pool and brought them back.

“This is a kind of camphre, or camphor,” she told Nal who then translated for Lo. “and around our village most of these small laurel plants have been taken or destroyed by our sheep. I would like to make a small bundle and bring it back with me. In winter there are many uses for this healing plant.”

“Ask her how she knows the name of that plant, Nal, please?”

Nal asked. “A traveller from far places noticed me grinding my roots when he passed through our village. He said he noticed the strong scent and recognized it as belonging to a family of trees called laurels. He said he didn’t think such grew in our part of the world. So he taught me more of what the plant extract can do. Oh, I so want to be a healer! I have the gift for it but they won’t let me. If only I could escape that place, go somewhere else, somewhere they would let me be what I choose to be!”

They were all silent for a time while Lo pulled out their travelling rations and laid out breakfast, such as it would be. Then, after chewing on the dry bread and hard cheese, it was Nal who spoke first.

“Donna? There is no such place for us girls. Everywhere we go, men control us. They fear us because we know things about nature and life they cannot access in their brains, so they persecute us, keep us from education and knowledge. We cannot stand against such madness, we must flow with it somehow, like a snake through grass, moving silently, unseen, and striking only when it is a sure thing.”

“Oh! But the snake is the symbol of evil! How can you compare us to snakes?”

“But we are snakes, Donna. Men believe that about us. The snake symbol, the Devil that crawls on its belly, that is how they picture us. We crawl, powerless and they jump on us, mount us, use us to amuse and satisfy their sexual lust and to make children for them and to take care of them.

Angrily now: “We are seductresses, irredeemable. We have no soul. We are but slaves of men, always and forever. We can never be preachers, priests, teachers or healers or hold any political power for everything we touch turns to evil. It is totally our fault that there is evil in this world, you see? That is how men see us because that is how their “God” has labelled us from the beginning. I can read, Donna, because I was brought up to understand these great double standards of this patriarchal society – don’t worry about the big words, I’ll explain later – and if even in your village they knew this about me, I would be immediately branded a sorceress and tortured to death in an effort to eradicate that great evil from me. That is called superstition and it is deadly for us women.

“So we exist among these male dominated worlds as would snakes in the grasses. Feared, dreaded, hated, yet a necessary part of the whole process of life. They cannot exist without us and at times they lust after our bodies and claim to love us even. But make no mistake Donna: it is never love, it’s lust. But in our misery we want to believe them and we let our own feelings get twisted so we fall in love with them, our greatest enemies who will always remain so for we are helpless to change them.”

“They are all thus, Nal?”

“Exceptions prove the rule, Donna, always. Yes, it is better for you, and much safer, to always remember that even the boy you love dearly and hold in a naked embrace remains your deadliest enemy.

”Let me explain it to you this way. You are this beautiful nubile young girl living in a fortified village. You are in love with a swain and he’s in love with you, a wonderful boy you want to spend you life with. Flip to the next chapter: you are the same, in the same village but now the boy is not your lover, he’s part of a detachment of soldiers who have defeated your people and are overrunning you village. He comes upon you and you are taken as spoils of war. They strip you, mock you, gang rape you and otherwise abuse you. If they are not too rough you survive and heal. He takes you as his rightful slave and you become his servant. He can abuse you, beat you, and use you as entertainment for his soldier friends. Same boy, but from a different side of the fence. Instead of love, despair and hate.”

“If that is so then I wish never to marry. But how can I avoid it?”

Lo, who had been intently listening to Nal’s explanation and knowing she had seen such a thing, interrupted.

“If you lydies will excuse me, I’ve packed and it’s time to get on our journey. Please continue your discussion as we walk. I’ll bring up the rear again, and keep a lookout for any possible ambush or trap. We’ll follow that trail from the old cave we saw yesterday.”

Lo was careful to couch his language in words that would not raise questions, even though he was certain Donna could not understand him. He sensed there was much more to the girl than they realized as yet but would discover soon.

As they walked down the first hill heading for a low wood, and the trail proved easy to walk, Donna and Nal continued their discussion.

“If you would escape a forced marriage and a life of drudgery as I’m sure you’ve already observed of other women, then you must escape somehow, run away and make a life on your own.”

“How could I ever do that? The first men to find me would take me back for a ransom, or sell me as a slave, is that not so?”

“It is so, if you are trusting and unprotected. You need certain things for a successful escape. Self empowerment, my dear, and if you are good at seduction, which I think you can be, you can develop a friendship of love with a man who will actually think he loves you beyond just desire and will protect you as you both go on a journey of discovery. An older man, not too handsome whose chances with younger women are limited. Easily seduced and keener to the needs of women than the younger ones.”

“As you and Lo?” She wasn’t ridiculing or mocking but intent and innocent in her statement.

“Yes, though we are more than the exception that proves the rule. We have a vow of eternal love that cannot be broken by any known force. Do you believe that?”

“Yes I do. I have sensed it in you and in him when he slept beside me and held me last night. It was so gentle and clean, filled with trustworthiness. Do you think I could find my own Lo?”

“Every woman in love and feeling secure in her own relationship with a man would be quick to say, ‘of course you can’ but if it is true love you seek, know that such men are very rare and a woman needs all her skills of discernment and must ignore her feelings, to discover one. She needs all her powers of seduction to bring him into her field of love. Then she needs to be certain he knows, inside himself and without any prompting, that he remains free, ever free, while she loves him completely. That is the other side of love. We are the real givers, men are the takers even when they are convinced it’s the other way. It is a kind of faith; a belief system the seductive snake slithering silently through the grasses seeded by men learns to work with.”

“Your words sound strange to my ears, yet I thrill at them. I realize now that I do have to escape from Torglynn and make my own way in the world. That excites and frightens me.”

“How much do you know of fighting, Donna? Do you think you could develop what I call ‘the killer instinct’ when confronted by deadly enemies and if you were trained in sword, dagger and bow skills?”

“There have been times when I have felt a deep desire to know such skills, but then they interfered with my chosen purpose, that being to become a healer and I would get terribly confused.”

“What if I could teach you something totally alien to your upbringing, completely at odds with your religion and faith in your God, so dangerous that one whiff of it in your possession would immediately result in your condemnation as a witch to be burned alive at the stake? Would you want to know about such a terrible thing?”

“I believe you can do this for me but I have to think! I have to think…”

“Take your time. It is a very dangerous and difficult power to have at your disposal and I will tell you a truth: I only discovered it for myself early this morning, while I was on watch and deeply troubled also for you see, you and I are very similar creatures. Let me tell you a bit of my own story, that may help you in the decision you must make.

“My first and greatest desire is to be a healer, and that I am, as you are. But because of circumstances beyond my control, I had to become a fighter. I trained, endlessly and fiercely. I have killed men with this bow, this sword, this dagger, and this staff.”

Deliberately, she fingered each item, handing the dagger to Donna to hold and wonder at. Taking her precious bow out, she strung it and notched an arrow in it with such speed Donna saw a blur of movement where Nal’s hand was.

“I can bring down a falcon on the wing with this bow. I never miss and that has been a source of pride I’ve had to fight hard against many times. Everything has a price.”

“Many times it can be said that when I killed men or beasts it was in self defence, but equally, I have entered into games of sword play to the death. Obviously, since I’m here, the men, and much more rarely the women, who challenged me are dead, Donna. I killed them… for money.

“It was all about a young girl, alone in a patriarchal and violent world, learning to survive by challenging and using powers that were intent on subduing and enslaving her. I never thought about the wrong of it until Lo made me see that part of me some days ago. The revelation of this deep evil inside me was so hard I blocked it from my mind until last night.

“Then I let it surface so I could look at myself, and I saw two of me. But we weren’t enemies, just twins walking parallel paths that had different obstacles to overcome in each. At the end, the two paths would come together and the twins would merge into the real, the full, me. That is my hope at this time for I know without a doubt that I must be both, healer and killer and that one cannot be allowed to overcome or violate, the heart and purpose of the other. I am two people, Donna; two completely separate people who can never meet until their mutual quest is over.”

“Your story is sad, yet full of hope. It reminds me of a tale my governess was fond of telling. There was a prince, who was also a knight and he loved a princess but an evil bishop who was also a sorcerer desired the princess for himself. She spurned him and in anger he cursed her and her knight. At each sunrise, she turned into a hawk and at each sunset he turned into a wolf. Only in the moment of their changing could they get a despairing glimpse of one-another yet never able to touch or speak.

In the daytime, the heart-broken knight watched the beautiful hawk fly about. At night, the heart-broken princess walked the woods to listen to the wolf give his stricken howl. But in the end, after many trials, the spell was broken when the knight with the help of distraction caused by the frantic hawk, was finally able to confront the evil bishop and kill him. Then they were married and of course, lived happily ever after.

“In the end of your story, Nal, I see two such evil sorcerers to be destroyed and both of you must combine your forces to defeat them. Is that not what you made me see?”

“It is. What wisdom can you give me then, on my quest? How can the healer twin be of any help to the fighter one?”

“That is why you have paired up with Lo. Your healer self must join with the man Lo to protect him and heal him should he be wounded in your final battle. Knowing that Lo is safe, your fighter self will be free to do what she knows best to to, and that is to kill her enemies without qualms or regret. Thus empowered your battle is much more likely to turn in your favour. Three against two are pretty good odds.”

“You’re a very wise and perspicacious woman, Donna. That will take you far if you put your mind to it. I may as well admit right now that I am feeling a very strong bond developing between us. Maybe we can make something of that.”

For answer Donna sighed, then took stock of her surroundings as if she’d just awakened from a trance. The landscape way still much the same although there were more trees now and the air was warmer as they were crossing a low area where the wind didn’t penetrate except during violent storms, a rare occurrence in these parts. She could hear sounds she’d never heard; smelled scents of earth moving under the weak rays of the sun and of small animals scurrying among rocks and between shrubs hunting for food. Suddenly and for no reason, it seemed to Donna that the entire world was in a feverish quest to satisfy an insatiable hunger. Everything and everyone, it seemed, was chasing about and the bottom line of it, it was all about food.

“That is so strange.” She said this aloud and Lo who was closest to her at the moment, overheard.

“’Tis strange indeed,” he answered her in her own tongue, “this endless quest to satisfy some hunger. And t’isnt only for food ‘tis done, but for many other hungers, all equally insatiable. There’s hunger for things, for security, for love, for sex, for power, for control, for health (well, at least that one is understandable), recognition, either by fellowmen, or by some god, for conquest. But the basic hungers which all have in common are for food and sex.”

End of Part 9 – (Nine)

About that last Post

Ah, WordPress, thou art a bane to writing…

It seems that WordPress decided my last post was good enough to post when I was still in the process of editing it.  To make matters somewhat more fun, it told me that the first draft was not posted and it did not show up, but did in drafts, where I deleted it.  Yet when I downloaded I got two copies of said article.  One, the unfinished draft which was supposed to have been deleted, and the other, the finished product.

So I’m assuming you also got two copies of almost same material.  I apologize for the confusion.

The other thing WordPress loves to do is scramble my fonts when I create an article in my Thunderbird email program, which is what happened this time again.  So you get lines in small fonts in between lines of normal font.  Hopefully I’ll remember not to draft possible publishable WordPress posts in Thunderbird no more…  I apologize for that confusion also.

And that’s it.  I looked outside just now and didn’t see a mushroom cloud.  Things are good.