to be deleted.

Hindu concepts of speech, action and livelihood glide clumsily like a dirty lazy-susan as I try to focus on an order of which pre-determines the others of the triad most significantly.  I don't think you can find a lot of consistent trends in nature that are entrained by or passed onto humans in any lasting or meaningful way with regards to our livelihood, so then attention is directed toward speech and action.  Speech and action, while certainly associated with concepts of identity and social status, do however extend themselves to the subliminal, the ancient, the primitive.  Speech and action, that is, predate any group, any cult, any nation upon the Earth .  They are both gestures. Gestures intended to express more than the ordinary sum of their components. And both have certain advantages in the concerns of convenience and impact: while action undoubtedly holds more currency in the immediate, speech contains a mobility to rival time itself.  (If this all fee...

I remember one day in the first week of the journey, when I asked Clyde Henry and Ted just what they felt Mancini had done to contribute to the fall of America.  I meant this innocently.  They didn't take it that way.  They didn't bother actually reading anything printed throughout the internet about him other than the conspiracy of claims and declamations made against him by Seward Dance and various members past & present of Congress and the Senate. They didn't even know he used to be a lawyer. (*Whether one is to reliably defer to Wikipedia in the advent of the Popular Orwellianization of the past few decades is quite arguably beside the point: We were, after all, in deliberate pursuit of an enemy of the state, and even the most spurious piece of information might serve in illustrating the character of our target.) They weren't even consistent with what he looked like. They'd obviously both formed a personal sense of him, informed by his Mediterranean handle a...

Clyde Henry and Ted's cute tracking-device placed Mancini in some town in the middle of nowhere called Scrotchy, Nebraska. It was, quite presumably, deserted of anything more modern than neglected infrastructure and feral junkies and nomads and such wild animals who were guided by the light of the sun long before the intellectual recognition of names that have been born and died or meander vicariously between those two poles. One never heard of a newspaper being printed anywhere farther away than Alabama, or even the least form of tech-media like a blog or some minor/amateur concern of rogue journalists. Most people -- myself included -- inferred little more than tragedy and hopelessness in the dramatic horror that resulted in a deep and paranormal silence following the major events of the late-2020s. Brutality, within and among humans, has forever been at odds to sustain a balance between the cerebral and the pragmatic. It's one of the cruelest aspects of our condition that we...

Winter was a fair deal warmer, to my mind. Whether this had to do with the ozone being steadily, gradually melted away by the great collective folly of the human race...or my one-of-a-kind triune brain physiology incorporating certain new experiences and the skills inferred from those experiences, I couldn't precisely tell you. I know that every minor detail began to shine with this suggestion of importance. Everything from brushing my teeth to the way random pedestrians handled themselves on the sidewalk to the vividness anger brought to people's faces to the sounds of automobiles and rain and whatever was the focus of the news on a certain day now registered with an unmistakable clarity that both caused me to experience the sort of chestpains ubiquitous to heart disease and cardiac arrest and compelled me forward to see how much of it I could endure.  It was this scary kind of exhilaration. I know, you don't have to tell me: this is just the sort of warning-sign to give w...