The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

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1.1  Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’


It always felt like bursting into another world. The only sensation I could effectively liken it to was cave diving. Something I’d done once on the dime of Lucas’ dad.

The thing was like swimming through some narrow submerged corridor, and bursting into one of those vaulted dagger studded chambers that knew no light, save the febrile beam of your headlamp.

Luckadoo’s estate sat in a clearing in the thick woods denuded just enough to afford a modest yard.

I heard the sheriff’s car pull up beside us. We’d dimmed our lights ten whole minutes ago but the squad car illuminated the oak and stone walls with an officious glaring brightness. Lucas hopped out of the driver’s seat and ran over to tell Fabre to cut it out.

He was back momentarily. We heard the sound of a cell phone. Pierce answered: ‘Hello.’

After a second. He put it on speaker.

“What the hell did you just blabber about, why should the lights be off, what the..”

“We need to secure the perimeter,” Lucas replied matter of factly.

“Secure, the perimeter, what are you talking about, listen…”

Lucas popped open his cell phone and tapped on the screen as Fabre’s protestation continued to pour from the doctor’s device.

Suddenly there was a very odd sound. One that bespoke suspense and familiarity at the same time. Fabre’s voice grew still.

Out in the sea of trees, as far from the reach of civilization as one could get in a global village, the sound of a THX soundcheck rang out through the valley.

Suddenly there was another sound, it was some simple spoken words, done in a sing-song chant to a certain pitch and rhythm, it was Roger Waters, “Is there anybody out there?”

“The wall…”

Graham flipped a metal switch on the dash. The house, the yard, the woods, and what we could see of the lake beyond were illuminated by harsh glaring floodlights that may as well have been the noonday sun.

“Holy shit!” Fabre was apparently still on the line.

Lucas reached down beneath the armrest and pulled up a mouthpiece on a black coiled wire.

“This is Colonel Schmidt of LRD, Army Corps of Engineers, you are within a federal jurisdiction, you are advised to immediately beach all watercraft, and give a report of your position. Having done so you are to step into our immediate line of sight. The line of sight being in front of the vehicles. Drop all weapons and proceed with your hands held high. Be advised that we are authorized and capable of using deadly force.”

“What in the fuck…” Doc Pierce muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

I chuckled. It was always funny to see Lucas Schmidt with his surfer boy haircut deliver such stentorian tones. I suppose having an admiral for a father does make a difference.

There was a five-minute wait for a response.

“If you are military, federal, or law enforcement personnel, state your rank, file, serial number and purpose clearly. If you are within fifty yards of our position we will hear you. Do you copy?”

Again we waited five minutes.

“I repeat, military federal, and law enforcement personnel, are advised to give a prompt and clear report of purpose and station. Failure to comply may result in disciplinary measures. We wish to avoid friendly fire but are authorized to engage, should the need arise. Do you copy?”

We waited five more minutes. There was no response.

Each member of our team put on headphones. I handed a pair to the doctor who complied wordlessly. Lucas ran out of the car with another pair. We heard his voice and the sheriff’s voice arguing through the doctor’s cell phone speaker.

Out of the car window, I saw Lucas’ screen shine dimly in the glare of the spotlights. Then the floodlights died.

Suddenly there was a pulse and a harsh shrill sound, that was thankfully muffled by the deadening in our headphones. You could feel it on your skin, it was like an air dryer, the pressure pushing the hairs on my arms in every direction.

The cars shook gently, the window panes rattling, the windows of the house also rattled, leaves and weaker branches fell from the roof and the trees.

I put away my flask and picked up a P320 from under the seat. The doctor shied away from me mid-process. I motioned for him to stay in the car.

Lucas opened the doctor’s door and extracted the Mossberg 500 off of Pierce’s lap.

Graham, Chuck, the Doctor, and the Sherrif had been pantomimed into staying put as Sam with his own Sig joined me and Lucas in a serpentine toward the door.

I punched in the keycode and Lucas dashed in sweeping the area. I tapped him on the shoulder and saw his flashlight mount head off to clear the eastern wing. I heard the door shut behind me and felt a tap on my own shoulder. Sam headed to the western wing as I made my way upstairs.

We then reconvened in the parlor to clear the basement, backyard, and dock.

The whole process took eight minutes. At every point at least one of us had a line of sight to the vehicles.

At the end, the sound died and we took up position one man prone on the front porch and two flanking the sides of the house.

Sam and I held our position with our sidearms at the ready as Lucas escorted the Doctor, the Sherrif, and our two civvie comrades to the door.

Once inside the rustic wood-paneled lodge with its gentleman hunter’s décor we felt the comedy of contrasts and laughed.

“That is one hell of an ADT system,” Fabre remarked.


Image Credit: https://www.thoughtco.com/cave-diving-isnt-crazy-2963325

Transmission (Demo)


Seems I’m channeling my inner Weegy in that trv kvlt frame on the top right there…

I’m having technical difficulties and so to blend parts I had to use Kdenlive instead of Ardour. I guess everything has a silver lining since I can show off a couple of neat little features of this free, open-source, video editor. I used the vignette effect in the overlay violin video along with ‘binarize dynamically’ to give it that James Bond, 60’s gun barrel feel.

Though the video proper may make me liable for causing seizures, it’s comprised of two of my favorite effects: luminance, and old film.

Kdenlive also has audio editing tools but I only used the volume control to make the violin part (sic) quieter than the guitar and voice. I’d have done more and actually synced up the parts but things run a bit odd on this older HP. Though likely I just have to resolve some software dependencies.

So if you’re ever in a jam like me, with all your DAWs and even audacity refusing to work, maybe you can turn to Kdenlive. But, that’s really a super tertiary reason. The primary reason is that it is fantastic for editing videos. And it costs nothing.

Kdenlive: https://kdenlive.org/

As per usual the lyrics are based on a poem: Transmission (Poem)

Thanks for stopping by and check out my main website: http://www.fractaljournal.com for essays, stories, webcomics and more.

Post Grunge Punks – Home Ec

PGP - Home Ek


When I was a kid I recall going out to my friends Dacha with my drunken uncles. Potato cooking seemed so simple then. First you get properly pissed then you wrap the spuds in tinfoil and toss them in a fire by the river.


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Assorted Drunken Uncles Preparing for Glorious Potato Feast

Gone are those halcyon days of gilded simplicity… as is my memory of how to cook a potato… so I did a search for it.

Apparently they explode…

Perfect Baked Potato Recipe

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Glorious Glory in a Glorious Land of Glory Which is Glorious – Not The Politburo

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That my decadent western friends is the 1337 hacker’s version of a summer cottage. I remember launching my first DOS attack from the turnip patch. Off to do some squats….

I nicked that photo from here: http://holesinmysoles.blogspot.com/2011/03/travel-photo-thursday-mar-31st-dacha.html

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

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1.1  Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)


To Luckadoo Cove

The Wagoneer was totally silent, save for the rushing of cold country air through a window cracked just enough to vent Graham’s cigarette.

It was eerie. I was the least spiritual of the bunch. Generally taking all our little rites and chemical adventures as so much psychodrama for creative stimulation. Yet the way the gibbous moon hovered above the solitary spire of Foley’s United Methodist Church. The general sleepy stillness of the hollow, like some perpetual dream, was beginning to stir things in my imagination. As we rounded the last ‘civilized’ corner of Foley proper to enter a wooded country road the feeling was compounded.

The still searching faces of my comrades didn’t help matters. There was only one face that showed no fear of magic. It was that of our unexpected guest. Whose implacable thin-lipped smirk would probably outlast the reaper.

Doctor Pierce was with us. He’d made just one single remark in the past quarter-hour. He was clearly of a reserved nature. His eyes were of an indeterminate color. Perhaps hazel but they were absolutely resolute. Chuck’s comment about his age rang true until you glimpsed those eyes. These were old eyes. Ancient with experience, they seemed to drink in everything, and find it daft.

Officer Fabre was following us in his squad car. Not that he needed to. I’d now had my suspicions confirmed. There weren’t many deer with two legs. Neither did deer rifle through ones papers. I did have to give him credit though. He was a stealthy git. I did really attribute all such happenings to inattention and wildlife till a few days ago when I found boot treads round the greenhouse.

I was quiet impressed that after forty-five minutes of plowing through the inky hills we’d heard nothing but the weird cry of an ocassional owl. Normally there was much protestation even from my preternaturally silent ex, that dirty blonde Finnish number, I really missed her quiet energy. She’d gone back home after the last semester. I really do hate family values….

My musings were cut short as they always were by the change of surface. The smooth silence gave way to a quiet sort of crunch as our tires found Kentucky clay.

The woods here were deep and thick. They pressed in closely on either side. There was scarcely room to lean an elbow out the window. The old growth branches vaulted overhead suggesting a foyer. It was as if we were being borne along to some sacred ancient temple.

In some sense I suppose we were. These hills, with their attendant mountains, the valleys and meadows, and woods were positively primordial. especially here where geology chose to become Swiss Cheese. Strange noises did at times carry on the air. This was due to winter wind passing through grid lock caverns like some vast pipers breath through a hoary chanter.

These especially when combined with the subtle rush of subterranean streams made it seem as if a thousand voices were reciting some subtle litany. We had arrived where nature worshiped. The prayer it offered to the glimmering heavens at times answered by the shooting tear of a falling star. It was as if some great god wept with joy at the song of his children.

Yes, this was indeed a temple. I began to feel some certain pious trepidation. This place was perhaps no more ancient than my own blood and bones but my conceptions had only the faintest inkling of the purpose of my blood and bones. These hills knew, they knew why marrow fed the ligaments of the things that scurried through them. They knew and they brooded in a rapt vesper.

Perhaps they were now toying with us. Putting things into our head. Since we’d come here just for that purpose. They honored our request for their influence. I do not know if we are meant for such influence…

I broke my trance by taking another swig of Jim. There was something in its warm cheery sting that quickly dispelled any ancient terrors. Though in such a place, where the thing called time stands still, the aeons are merely muted by such tricks. Muted but not drowned.

“This is a Mossberg.” Came the quietly surprised voice of the doctor from the seat behind me.

I turned round to see him inspecting the gun appreciatively.

“Yes it is,” said Lucas who was driving, “and we’re here.”

 

 

TFJ Vlogs – Addressing Trendy Minimalism


There’s a sort of sterile spirit around these days. It disguises itself in the frock of ‘minimalism.’ But its really closer to provincial laziness. I track the problem a bit and conclude: Don’t throw the burgers out with the beer.

The triggering: http://www.mrmoneymustache.com/2013/10/01/the-low-information-diet/

– I actually agree with the general gist of that article. I’m just using it as a spring-board to discuss some of the slippery slope effects that come from adopting a :’low information diet.’

My main site: http://www.fractaljournal.com

Book Review: Consilience – The Unity of Knowledge (E.O. Wilson)

Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge

Such, I believe, is the source of the Ionian Enchantment: Preferring a search for objective reality over revelations is another way of satisfying religious hunger. It is an endeavor almost as old as civilization and intertwined with traditional religion, but it follows a very different course – a stoic’s creed, an acquired taste, a guidebook to adventure plotted across rough terrain.’

– E.O. Wilson, Consilience – The Unity of Knowledge – Chapter One: The Ionian Enchantment


Introduction to this review: Stray Thoughts Regarding Craftsmanship via – E.O. Wilson’s – Consilience

The Review

Consilience is about consilience, how consilient. That’s the trouble with the word. It’s a bit of a tautology. One of those classifications that point to such a broad phenomenon that it has almost no meaning. It’s like ‘emergent properties.’ Almost everything has or is an emergent property.

I do think these are useful and indispensable concepts. So why do I begin a review by casting aspersions at them?

Well, what’s a review without a bit of taunting and teasing? A touch of play, that’s how you actually keep those austere leather-bound volumes open, rather than having the staid darlings nobly accrue dust on some high shelf.

It is of vast importance to not respect something so much that you never touch it.

For E.O. Wilson the history of humanity, the history of its philosophical, and scientific pursuits has a common thread. Consilience comes from Latin and means something akin to a jumping together. So it is that all knowledge all ken seems to jump together according to a certain logic. It is at such points of convergence that we can become confident in the reality of a given phenomenon and proceed to form a conceptual framework on the basis of this evidence. A conceptual framework which can then be used as a compass to navigate the world of knowledge and make valid predictions. This order this logic is a sort of ‘Ariadne’s thread.’ Allowing us to trace a path through the mysterious labyrinth called cosmos.

Logic itself is a testament to an inherent order that though far more chaotic than the straightforward of ‘fire hot don’t touch,’ is non-the-less intelligible to creatures accustomed to such essential syllogisms.

It is that quest for inherent order for unifying principle that defines the ‘consilience’ concept and serves as the focus of this book.

If one reads the leaflet of the Knopf hardcover edition he discovers a highlighting of this theme:

‘our explosive rise in intellectual mastery’ … ‘has its roots in the ancient Greek concept of an intrinsic orderliness’ …. ‘ a vision that found its apogee in the Age of Enlightenment’

Greece is the focus of the first chapter, in which E.O. Wilson recounts his youthful fascination with the natural beauty of his Alabama home. A fascination that would develop into a sense of mission, the poetically dubbed ‘Ionian Enchantment.’

‘The enchantment’ is a reference to the philosophical outlook of Thales of Miletus, the idea that the universe is intelligible and can be understood once the proper principles are isolated.

One of the great strengths of this book is that Wilson does not let his aesthetic sensibilities cloud his analysis. He readily assents to the difficulty of bottom up analysis, of the synthesis which is at the heart of consilience. Accurately portraying it as a task far more challenging than the more familiar reductionist strategies that have seen much success in the physical sciences.

In Ariadne’s Thread (another Greek allusion) Wilson points out that it is ‘easy’ to go from conceptual complexity to basic physical units. It is an altogether different thing to go from basic physical properties to conceptual complexity.

The myth of Theseus unravelling the ball of Ariadne’s thread in the minotaur’s maze, serves as an apt analogy for humanity’s attempt to make sense of its surroundings. We always find retracing our steps to be easier than finding valid routes through a labyrinth that ultimately has no center.

All we know is that there is something that allows us to navigate, something dear and precious, the yarn of a beautiful maiden that I’m going to take the liberty of identifying with ‘wisdom’ (sic) for the sake of conceptual convenience. This wisdom, this sense of the maze being navigable, is what will eventually allow us something like mastery of that puzzling terrain. Though as Wilson cautions, mastery of such a thing, may not be possible to fully realize.

I’d argue that such an impossibility is actually bliss. It means that the universe is intelligible to just the right degree. So that we may never know enough and grow weary and bored. That greatest joy of exploration will never be yanked from our species.
In fact the more we discover the more the avenues of mystery expand. The future as Wilson points out in the last chapter of his book belongs to synthesizers. People with a sense for consilience who can incorporate information into valid novel coherencies. The universe is thus a vast garden that intelligent creatures like ourselves can eternally cultivate.

This is what makes this book such a worthy read. The rekindling of the classical fire. That flame which was ‘lost’ in recent decades due to the intense specialization that became somewhat inevitable as knowledge and complexity increased.

It is a timely response to the relativism and ‘post modernism’ (sic) of the present age. Which far from providing the fecundity that they seemingly promise have served up something much more akin to stagnation.

I found this book to be a worthy read as a review of the history of science and philosophy through a biologist’s lens. You will encounter in-depth coverage of such perennial issues as nature vs. nurture, the role of genetics in culture, the physical functioning of the brain as it relates to the nature of consciousness, and much more.

The early chapters accounting of the development of the sciences and their underlying methodology has a historian’s flair, that is a timely remedy for the atomization of the knowledge of a ‘common core’ mind.

I’d urge anyone wishing to enrich both their passion and their knowledge to pick up this excellent book.

TAP # 12 – Win like a Winston (Vlog)


I talk a bit about the need for replacing your ‘dopamine hit’ activities with more productive pursuits. So instead of a beer learn a guitar lick etc. Though of course you’ll want to have that beer once in a while. Striking the right balance is what I’m aiming for.


Links n’ Such

  • Towards that end it’s good to have different creative and productivity outlets. Something that was called to mind by a post on Winston Churchill on this blog:

The Churchill School of Adulthood Conclusion: Thought + Action = An Awesome Adulthood

(I don’t think this is the exact article I read. I actually can’t find it and don’t have the time. But this has the same spirit and I hope you enjoy.)

  • Here is a similar website in terms of good advice:

Home

The vibes from those sites are what got me goin’ on this little riff.

 

Addendum: “Sales is a transfer of energy.” That’s a thing I heard a lot a couple of gigs ago. “Sales is also a transfer of debt.” I thought to myself in my illfitting suit. Though some might think this vlog just another rah rah motivational they may be right. But so was my old boss. There is value in a transfer of energy.

IMO, This little vlog  is a much more useful transfer than convincing you to switch your cable provider. I also made sure to intersperse it with some pretty sound philosophies and facts.

Thanks for stopping by.

Why I Don’ t Facebook

O dear, it’s happened again, someone asked me if I Facebook…

There is a now ancient video of Michael Crichton sitting in with a panel of sci-fi writers discussing the state of that industry. During that discussion he brings up how the increasing presence of cameras has the potential to change the way that people interact. He says that being in front of a camera certainly makes him act differently than he does in a more private setting.



This behavioral shift is the problem with sites like Facebook.

Ok, but behavior changes from generation to generation and is often brought about by technology. So why is this particular behavioral shift a bad thing? Aren’t these Luddite concerns?

The sort of behavioral shift that seems to be the trouble is group-think, confirmation bias, and insecurity. Though the three things are distinct phenomenon they share a common thread and are thus treated as the ‘behavioral shift’ in question.

This phenomenon is supported by four ‘emergent properties’ common to all social networks, electronic, and otherwise.

1) The Constant Peanut Gallery

2) Increased Misunderstanding

3) False Security

4) Increased Preening

All of these properties emerge from the need for validation.

Validation is the core of many goods and many ills. It is important to check your perceptions, ideas, and at times your very person against the ideas, opinions, and persons of others. It helps to form a balanced opinion and is arguably the animating principle behind parliamentary government and peer review.

Yet, peer review and parliament often act as agents of confirmation bias rather than guardians of truth. Galileo’s works were reviewed by the experts of his day and found lacking. Does this mean that we should do away with parliament and peer review?

By no means. It was corroboration of his findings that eventually led to their acceptance in the scientific canon. Bad peer review can be reviewed by good peer review. So long as the process is ongoing issues will be resolved.

This brings us to the core of the problem with Facebook: Stagnation.

The constant peanut gallery often leads one to adopt the biologically expedient role of ‘crowd pleasing’ whether consciously or unconsciously. Increased misunderstandings arise because folks choose to share views dampened by crowd pleasing. A false security arises from the perceived confirmation of one’s views and person leading to increased preening or display of those characteristics.

All of these are the recipe for group-think, confirmation bias, and insecurity that form the stagnation which makes Facebook an unsavory medium. The sort of things that I believe to be at the core of Crichton’s concerns while on that panel.

I use Word Press, YouTube, Mastodon, and Minds. These are all social networks in their own right. Am I then being unfair to Facebook? Isn’t vlogging and blogging and posting subject to the same problems as Facebook. Why don’t I get a Facebook account?

Well, for one Facebook has a rather checkered history. It is also different from the sites I choose because it involves ones immediate circle. Due to its reaching so close to home its effectiveness for debate and unbiased analysis of ideas and persons becomes compromised.

It is much easier to focus on ideas and arguments with sites like Word Press and YouTube. All the problems with Facebook do of course occur there but it is with less frequency and degree that they do. This is as I have said due to the close and personal nature of Facebook.

Which not only compromises privacy but brings us all the dark sides of a global village with alarming speed. I am rather cosmopolitan in my outlook so I am not at all promoting provincialism in criticizing ‘the global village.’

It is in fact provincialization that we have to fear from ‘the global village.’ The provincialism of ideas. Human beings despite their variety of cultures and philosophies do share a certain common psychological profile. Due to this common thread all of their variety becomes endangered rather quickly when filtered through one global ‘common room.’

This is why the majority of the world is now California. I’m serious. Look at all the dudes, and jeans, beards, and t-shirts. It’s been going on for quiet a while. This narrowing of style and ideation. Where a girl in Frankfurt is nearly indistinguishable from one in Orange County.

Yes, all right but, Facebook isn’t meant to be a place for the exchange of ideas. It’s meant to be a way to connect with friends!

Ok, well I do have a phone and a car, and an email, and a post office. Why does the whole world need to know of my circle of friends? Why does my circle of friends need to be privy to my every interaction with my circle of friends?

Is shooting messages and inviting/excluding people from events publicly really ‘connecting?’

I rather think it has the opposite effect. To where I can hardly enjoy a beer with friends, without one of them shoving a little screen in my face. Bearing the latest meme or Facebook faux pas, glowing with hi-def brightness that the table behind me can read.

This is why I don’t Facebook.

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

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Intro/1.1 – Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 – The Cajun Prayer

1.3 – The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

Horticulture 

“Just look at these curls….” Said the nurse running her fingers through Hoyt’s golden ringlets.

“Yeah, they probably smell like patchouli.” Lucas said wryly.

“You might wanna sterilize your hands. Who knows what’s been nesting in there…”

“Ya’ll should leave him alone. He’s the handsomest one…and so tall…”

Graham wasn’t handsome but she did have a point about the height. He looked ridiculous hunched up on that little examining bed. With his long thin arms between his knees he looked like some kind of shagged out alien. He seemed very tired.

“He might be tall. But I’ll have you know that I’m the handsome one.” Sam said dramatically tossing his own brown mane to shoot her an I’m so sexy stare.

We all laughed because of how plain he was. He wasn’t ugly just incredibly typical. There was nothing to suggest itself as pretty or ugly in his WASPY features.

“Well, I suppose you’re all charmin’ in your own ways but…I do mean that you should leave him alone, he needs to rest, make sure he drinks plenty o water too.”

“We will.” I said as I nervously pondered what exactly was going to happen. Pierce had remained outside with Fabre and we were all anticipating some fresh sentence when the officer regained his wits.

I fingered my flask.

The nurse continued chatting pleasantly with Sam whose thirst for female attention knew no bounds. I think she enjoyed humoring him. His poorly disguised attraction must have been flattering to a woman approaching middle age.

“Well now…what do you have there…” she asked snatching my flask away just as I got the barest sip of Jim.

“O mercy.. whisky..this is strong…how do you stomach it…” Her disgust was so genuine that I couldn’t suppres a smile.

“Twice barreled, top shelf, twelve years in the makin’ ain’t something to turn your nose up at ma’am. Besides it helps with the nerves.”

“And what does a young man with enough money for the ‘top shelf’ have to worry about? What are you boys upto out here? What did you do to your friend?”

“Well, I guess it’s the purdy girls that make me nervous,” I said with my most winning smile.

“Flattery ain’t gonna work on me none sugar,” she said laconically, “’fess up, what’s all this gentry doin’ out in Foley?”

“We’re here for the inspiration, we’re artists and….”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re artists uhuh….” said the Doctor upon entering the room with the somewhat recovered looking sherif.

The pretty lady laughed. Her upturned little nose scrunching up a dozen darling little freckles that may as well have been the stars of a Kentucky night. ‘I need a date.’ I laughed to myself as I realized how long I’d been in the hills.

It was this state that made me particularly keen on noticing that unmistakable sort of familiarity between our Frankish chief and the nurse. Jealousy does have its uses I mused as I ruefully gripped my recently reacquired flask firmer.

I was glad we hadn’t told her anything…but more than a bit worried about what she might have extracted out of Graham. There was no reserve in Graham Hoyt. He was nothing like his English father. He talked with his hands like his mother. Italians…

Pierce was laughing. “Well boys, old Philly Fabre here’s just told me the most coonass story I ever heard. Full of magic, and bayous, and Catholic guilt. Definitely displaying some hyper-religiosity…”

“Coonass…?”

“Means Cajun…” Chuck whispered. He was our resident Trebek. His mastery of trivia did have its uses despite being largely insufferable. He was a hipster caricature a bourgeoise Google savant. Memorizing more irrelevancies in day then a Trekkie does in a lifetime.

“Yeah, coonass and shrimp boat reeking as they come.” Pierce laughed. “Hell I think he actually did work a shrimp boat as a boy…” Pierce was really laughing now.

“Ain’t no shame in the trades.” I said.

“Of course, of course, I meant no offense, only that the man is so damnably iconic. I suppose Americana survives in the weirdest of places. Now…” He said with a glance at Graham.

“Your friend seems to be fine enough to go home.”

“So we can go…” Lucas was excited.

“….Yes…of course…but…as I have told the Officer here…the best way to surmount your fears is to face them head on, that’s what got me through Pnomh Penh…”

“You seem a little young for that one.” Chuck said.

“I age well.” Pierce responded. He was the iciest man I’d ever meet.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“Anyhow,” the doctor continued, “Fabre here has it in his head that you’re all some sort of magicians, he thinks you talk to something in these hills, he says he’s been watching you, and he knows a thing or two about the plants you grow in your garden.”

O shit…

“I’m not much for ghost stories but I am a chemical engineer.”

Double shit…

“…so, the officer and I are going to visit you out at the cove.”

TFJ Vlogs – The Case for Integrative Analysis


 

In this snippet I discuss how good questions are better than quick answers. How one must slow down to really explore a ‘problem domain.’ It is unfortunate how our ‘results’ (sic) obsessed culture has largely abandoned this ethos…which explains the quality of a lot of such…results.

The Second Brain – https://www.amazon.com/Second-Brain-Groundbreaking-Understanding-Disorders/dp/0060930721/ref=sr_1_1/138-6261393-6916830?ie=UTF8&qid=1516365410&sr=8-1&keywords=the+second+brain