Ken

Ninety Percent of what you think you know is complete shite. That doesn't mean you are stupid; on the contrary; the very fact you are reading this almost proves the opposite. It means, there is still so far to go. Always that. Of course, you might be stupid, in which case you will click to somewhere else right now. Be honest. There's nothing wrong with being stupid; but you are in the wrong place now. Somehow. There is nothing for you here. Move along. There's no good reason to trouble yourself unnecessarily.

It is the way, being human, that we know so little, relatively. And the more we learn, and assimilate; ken; the more we can know, and a whole new vista of possibility reveals itself, dwarfing previous limits, logarithmically, and thereby dropping us squarely back at knowing only Ten Percent, which suits me just fine. So maybe it's Eleven, or Twenty Seven, or Nine, depending on how well we step our own path, but that's always enough for me, more, and no-more, simultaneously.

I had a thoroughly enjoyable Xmas, though completely not-to-plan, slicing a large divet out of the back of my hand, altered the course some; index finger of dominant hand, to be precise - Note to self: Dishes THEN Alcohol, somehow miscalculating the tensile strength of my half-pint tankard glasses; amazing, because these things are incredibly strong, been bounced off the walls and everything. Hmmm.. perhaps that was the actual glass that was bounced off the wall. Cause and effect, see.



It only needed a few stitches, though tricky they are, with the other hand. Being disabled, even temporarily, puts a slant on things, though a bottle of Whiskey fair dulls the pain, administered slowly, over the course of a few days, that is. Cheers!

I'll add; remembering falling from Motorcycles as a younger me, as soon as I was able, went straight back in and started washing other tankards from the set. Are you impressed? Still, I'm weary of glass. Dangerous stuff. Lifting the flap revealed stuff you are not supposed to see. I'll also add; of all the injuries I've sustained, this produced the most blood. And I've previously had glass go clean through my wrist (much to the surprise of the ER Doctors, and later, a troupe of student staff; missing every single major tube and wire, and yet, Bam! Sliced all the way in! It was at this point I vowed to do my own field medicine.

Of course, you're thinking, But cor! You can't do X-Ray! There could be glass embedded within the wound, to which I would give the following, shocking reply..

After the students had finished, I got my X-Ray, and the all-clear to be stitched-up and shipped-off. After a couple of weeks, of course, the wound has scarred, and the amazing nature-machine of the body has done its work, healing the tissue, but still, I get pain. I can almost feel it moving, and becoming acute. I'm driving at the time, navigating Aberdeen traffic, and it gets itchy. I scratch, and with almost no pressure, break the skin. A tiny shard of glass protrudes itself. I - eyers wide - pull over to the side of the road. Slowly, I remove the shard, around 5mm long, by 1.5mm wide, kinda rough. So much for X-rays. But that was my Left wrist (and a window, and a woman); this was, is, my  M A I N finger.

FUCK! And there went my plan to capitalize on the only, yearly, guaranteed peace from my office neighbours downstairs, get some recording done. "it's a sign!", as someone commented earlier. "But of WHAT?", my ever-present reply.

Chill... I did, instead. Well, that's the way I took it at the time, which again, is just fine by me, as a way of living, I mean. Like the movie "Yes Man", which I haven't seen, though do like the concept: definitely living by a set of principles, or even just one. Mine is "What would I do?". I also got a kick to get coding, running the 2do list and more (to come - /devblog/ fo sho).

So I'm rambling. And that is how I'll glide the /blog/ into 2009; all realizing even the fundamental boundary between years to be no more than Human construct, useful for filing, sorting, but only really useful for magic if you make* it so, which you can do with lots of other, better, dates. Same goes for Bobmas, or whatever floats your arc.

Happy Day Seven!

:o) The Writing Entity @ corz.org