I don’t know if we are an experiment or not. I don’t know if we should fear the unknown as in evil aliens or not. I don’t know a lot of things. So, what do I know? I know there are good aliens and bad aliens. The aliens in our star system do hide for what they consider good reasons. The good aliens do fear something, whether they are good or not.
The aliens do have technologies that are far beyond what we have. I was led to believe that they are a billion and a half years ahead of us. So, could they be in a rural part of a star civilization that is on the decline? Perhaps they are losing a war and escaping into the unknown as if we are off the travel lanes? I don’t know a lot of things, a lot more things than what I do know. Ain’t that the way?
The doctors have given up after a year and a half. I have taken several types of antibiotics, fungicides, and many home remedies. It all seems to be making no difference to the pneumonia, spitting, and urinary infections. I feel sick and lack energy for any kind of motivation. It is more than enough to just sit and watch movies on StupidThree. I had to think twice about StupidThree’s name for Pete’s sake.
This morning I prepared to go out and wrapped up for the icy cold winter temperatures. In my rush to do so much, I forgot my pill case with my weekly doses of pills to take. I do take pills every four hours. Ought to see my breakfast of champions. I did well enough by getting my hair brushed, teeth brushed, bum brushed, and of course, the proverbial brush-off. Now who could complain about that, eh?
I have had three cigarettes so far today. I shouldn’t be smoking at all and I still have the habit to light up. I have to quit for Peter’s sake, my sake, and the cat, Twister’s sake. Poor Twister takes a daily dose half a CC of Prednisone. She has breathing fits that are far worse than any furball. It is no fun to gag and hack a lung out through a nostril. I hate that so I know Twister hates it as well.
Today was all about breathing. I had lung function tests and two hours later, met the doctor Wong, who assists Dr. Percale when she is on holidays. I have a little less than ten percent left to live with. I need Prednisone more than our dear Twister needs the creamy thick white crap that runs about $60.00 an ounce. It is cheaper than perfume and way cheaper than my really expensive and hard to get prescriptions. It certainly makes me think twice about the way medicine is manufactured and supplied.
Muldur is in the washroom, shaving a two month old beard. I like what he does but but not what he looks like nor his physical build. He is a wimp who thinks a bit off the path in a way that combines what he hears. Maybe more people should listen to what is being said instead of what they want to hear.
I can’t explain what happened nor why it all came about in the order that it did. The past is still vivid regardless of the little details that could be argued about. I could tell lies or the truth in the face of the world but it would make absolutely no difference to the facts of what did happen. It happened. There is nothing to believe about something that actually happened, even if it was a long time ago. Right.
Life goes on in that people live and die as they all must. Some things don’t change and perhaps they aren’t supposed to change. Some things are meant to happen regardless of the odds. But, there is a funny thing about that little wave of energy that influences a wall of clocks, eh? Pendulums all swing to the same rhythm at some point in time. It just takes a while to synchronize into the overall main pattern,
We synchronize into patterns whether we believe it or not. There are patterns that we must follow as innately as the rise and set of the sun. Food in and food out means we are what we eat. Somehow that helps us to perceive what our senses tell us. Our senses tell us things whether we believe them or not. We are victims of our own choices just as we cannot escape synchronism that mixes up our patterns. We can only do the best we can whether it is good enough or not.
I keep trying to write out what I think I should write. It is not for me to convince anyone to believe anything when facts are being disputed or questioned. What is there to believe when the facts don’t change anything? After all, facts are facts, aren’t they?
The world believes what facts are being told. It isn’t a question of whether the facts are true or not. It is merely a set of facts that cover a story that prepares the way for other stories to fit in and flow along without mentioning only a few little facts that should be hidden anyways. Shouldn’t they? Yup, and they are.
It is late now and I have to go to sleep. I should be writing all kinds of things and doing so much more. I have a long to do list that keeps filling up faster than what I can do to empty it. I do need clones of me to do everything that needs to be done. They clone, don’t they? I know the greys do. They are all clones, easily replaceable and certainly as dependable as ever. That’s the way they are made, genetic copies that have the same libraries of information set perfectly into their chromosomes. Why do I know this?