legs pumping away on a bicycle named Revenge.

It's like riding a bicycle, men with machine guns who lived always in the shadow of an age-old conflict, their entire lives, a swirly-gig cyclical of various revenges, such that "you made me", "no, it was you that did it first".

I saw Erin, and I know, some are pure perfectionists, while others only casual viewers, and the producers are roaming around, hoping to capture the narrative, and it's sauce for the goose, as it were, to the casual viewer, who might imagine an awful collision of important things, but she's there, and we're sitting like baby birds, "peep, peep", hoping to catch what goose drippings aren't absorbed by her socks.

A cyclical deserves an encyclical, I say, and the week, caffeine-addicted and deprived a while, water and fruit juice, mostly coming in.  I found an Italian coffee in a small metal tin and it sufficed great guns for the better part of an afternoon: staving-off headache and lethargy, and I could muster my unction then.

"Mis padres compran...."

In a dull haze mentally, I talked of virtue, ethics, and had a small audience for that publicly, however weird it may seem, the very novelty of the thing.  Then I talked Buddhism to strangers, as a philosophy, mind you, and not a religion, meanwhile in my Bible pretty well through the older and newer parts of the book: mixed-readings, and even into a so called "modern translation" of the Quran, stopped dead in my tracks by back-handed, disguised threats.

Then there was some Tao.

Near the coastline, there was a health thing, which to date has plumped right back, like the proverbial fork testing the roasted wiener, in which the flesh comes back to form, like even the dog returns to his vomit, and the natural abhorration of a vacuum, and various people, Lawrence, even, coming to the fore and doing this thing, participating in the peculiar merciless striving that we call "life".

I was looking at some advertised features for Google Workplace, and thinking they were trying to compete with some other software packages, and doing well, if only they advertised wider.

And I took in sunshine before the clouds came, lizards and kittens my company, and I counted the tines on an old yard-rake, confirming the advertised total, and subtracting the one missing one, the same way I counted the keys on my music keyboard, like a partial OCD, an eclipse of some modern tendency to apathy, in which we are bid to pick apart our own place on the cycle.

By the same notion, it was a rebuke and warning in the scriptures, that people who devour one another, eventually find it becomes their own turn, as such the great wheel comes right on around.

And why, this new thinking, that if we just stopped the killing: well, it wouldn't prevent death, but it would surely curtail murder, and religious killings and territorial disputes.  Those people have come of age in the shadow of great contention, and they had thus along the way prepared themselves to take part.