My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

People don’t pay much attention to turtles. They’re slow, they’re boring, they’re pointless. They’re definitely not predators, and not apparently prey either. They’re like an antique end-table; kind of of interesting to look at if you bothered to look, but you don’t, because why bother if the rest of nature is like a giant LED HD tv compared to some dusty old end-table? This, of course, is exactly what turtles want people to think. They don’t want to be noticed, and they know how to make it so. Turtles go unnoticed because they know deep, old magic, magic old as the sun and the moon, magic people have never known. They know the magic, and they cast the spells that keep their settlements unseen. Untouched. Safe. Turtles have their cities and their secrets, both of which people will never know. Well, they’re not supposed to know…

There’s one settlement, The Emerald of the North, named so because it’s lush, green as the brightest emerald any person has ever seen, yet it’s surrounded by ice-capped mountains, bitter cold lands. Winter grew around this place, it’s turtle magic that keeps it warm and fertile, and completely invisible to people. When The Emerald was founded, quite unexpectedly, the cold had not yet come.

The story around the founding of The Emerald goes that a group of turtles, just ten friends, five ladies and five fellows, decided they’d leave home and walk to The Edge of the World. They were, of course, mocked, as no such place could possibly exist. Every turtle knew that the world went on forever, forever and ever. If magic knew no end, why should the world have boundaries? This was the thought of turtles at the time. Still, these ten turtles insisted that if they just walked long enough, and far enough, they’d reach the much laughed at, Edge of the World.

So, they said their goodbyes, some called them the stupidest turtle-folk ever to be hatched, others called them whimsical adventurers, brave enough to follow their hearts. With such chatter at their backs, they walked. They walked for what felt like a century, they lost count of how many starry night-skies they slept underneath, and how many orangey sunrises they woke to, but this meant nothing. They just walked, and walked, and kept walking, determined to prove that they were whimsically brave, not stupid.

They walked, and walked, and walked a little more. I say a little, not because they did, at very long last, reach the Edge of the World, but rather, they just stopped walking.

One day, they stopped to graze on the green grass under the shade of a majestic oak tree, the largest, most magnificent oak they’d ever laid eyes on. After their lunch, which was delicious, they went for a drink from a nearby lazy stream, the slowest stream with the clearest water they’d ever seen. This stream was so clear, the turtles could plainly see, and have conversation with, the stream’s resident fish. The fish, who all spoke in unison as is the way fish speak to air-breathers, invited the turtles to say and relax, just for another night. “Stay!,” they said. “You look tired!,” they said. “Rest!,” they said. The turtles were tired, and they did want to rest, so they stayed. Just the one night, they agreed with each other. Except, it wasn’t just the one night. The turtles would wake for breakfast, the green grass under that gorgeous oak. They’d go for a drink from that crystal clear stream, walk along its bank, talk with the unfamiliar fishes. This could take half a day, maybe more. After all, turtles are turtles.

After the breakfast and the libation and the walking with the talking, the fishes always repeated the same three statements. “Stay!,” they said. “You look tired!,” they said. “Rest!,” they said. This went on in the same way for two weeks, until the turtles all realized something. They realized that they enjoyed the grass and the giant shady oak and that stream of water like glass, and talking with the now familiar fishes. They were happy there, finding the Edge of the World didn’t seem any better than staying right where they were. They walked enough. They stayed. They stayed, fell in love, built turtle homes, started turtle families. Their journey to find someplace very old ended up creating so much that was new.

So, don’t overlook the little things, the seemingly mundane. I think turtles can feel magic because they actually bother to stop to see it. You’ll probably never find The Emerald of the North, turtles are too clever for that, but maybe if you take the time to search, and stop long enough to see it, you’ll find magic too. Maybe you’ll find it, and make it your own, and keep it safe from the cold that always comes to call.

Okay, this is probably pointless to even try, but I’m a sucker for lost causes…

Many, many years ago, this company, StudioZee, made a USB IR remote for Macs, the ZephIR. It is a spectacular device, so of course, StudioZEE died and so did the ZephIR. bet365 arabic  The ZephIR software has a built-in database of user recorded remotes, it stayed active up until the AppleTV 2, but now, nothing. Anyways, enough history. I have a crazy question…

Does anybody reading actually have a ZephIR AND a recorded remote for Logitech z906 surround sound speakers? I’m having trouble recording my own.

Nothing, today.

So, I had really bad dreams last night, worse than usual, about someone. I woke up at 5 am and didn’t feel like sleeping again. I finished one Diablo book, started another. They’re fun! Still, after Diablo: Moon of the Spider, I’ll get back to more literary reading.

I did some adjusting to my story, it’s called, Contentment. I’m not posting it here because I’m going to see if I can’t get it published somewhere else. I feel like it’s at least worth trying. Of the three stories I’ve had published, they hit me hard and were written in under an hour. Contentment happened the same way, so maybe it’ll go like the others. Like I said, it’s at least worth trying.

I’m tired of me.

I just can’t get in any sort of groove. The story I keep mentioning hit me so hard, flowed out so easily, but that was it. I heard the words, it was so fucking clear.

Now, nothing’s clear.

So, my daily word count is off to a very rocky start. Still, I’m not discouraged. A few bad days don’t fuck everything.

So, I’ve fallen off my word count. Badly. Already.

So, I have more energy than yesterday, but it’s all nervous. I’m uneasy, I can’t focus on any one thing. I really hate days like this, I can’t think, or relax, or write anything worth reading.

So, I slept most of today. I feel old.

In the morning , I go for my four weeks trach (the little plastic tube in my throat) change. I’m not nervous like I used to get, I just don’t look forward to bow worn out I feel afterward. Worn out and lonely and uneasy.