Buddhism.

Could be I'm built for Buddhism.

Long time ago, I found I had to become process-oriented, not goal-oriented, this for my own mental health. I have zero control over what happens to or with the things I make; all that's in my control - and not even entirely at that - is the making. There's a peace to that.

Orders, authority, I always had difficulty with those. One time, I was talking with an old friend who was, in a teasing manner, trying to convert me to anarcho-syndicalism, or at least decentralized socialism. Out of my mouth, from somewhere deep in my being, came, "I'd commit to anarchism, but there are too many rules."

Then I'm filled with this boundless gratitude, but have no way to express it, or rather, no one to express it to. Been looking for a way to pray for a long time.

A trick.

If you're having trouble writing something, write about how you're having trouble writing something, and be as honest as possible.  Today, I have nothing to say, nothing, yet look at all these words already.

I'm zonked, can't say why.  Could be the new power doses of certain medications, could be I'm not zonked, but rather intensely focused as a result of meditation, could be lack of sleep. Tough time sleeping last night for some reason, I'll bet that's it.  We'll see how I am tomorrow.

My neighbor and I had coffee about an hour ago.  I told her what I'm telling you.  She said I seemed lucid and alert, able to make rational arguments and such.  I felt a little disengaged.  I'm just going to let that go now.  She's a real pal, my neighbor.

Seiza bench.

Nobody fell for my ruse, I see.  Good on you.  Needless to say, what I was doing there was trying to get someone to corroborate my math.

My math says A=113 degrees, B=77 degrees, A to B equals 6.65".  It's a little imprecise, but I didn't need precision, angle-wise, anyway.  I built a seiza bench using those numbers; what you see there, in the diagram, is a leg, two legs, really.

I don't know if I mentioned this: I'm meditating again.  As I'm not nearly as flexible as I used to be, I couldn't get into even half-lotus without discomfort. Then, reading around, I come across this story about a guy who blew his knee to crud attempting half-lotus.  Just attempting.  So, I decided seiza was probably the way to go.

It's working well, this seiza bench.  The way I figure it, I'll gradually grow accustomed to the sharp angles of my knees, and possibly one day remove the bench altogether.

Commune with Pythagoras.

Gimme angles A and B.  Show your work.  Extra credit: gimme the length of the line next to A and B in inches.

Evidently.

Why is it, do you suppose, I keep using the word 'evidently'?  I have a lot of other words and phrases like it at my disposal, but I keep coming back to that one.  I'm issuing a moratorium on my use of adverbs until this mystery is solved.

The Log Cabin.

I live in a capital city, in the U.S., in a small house that, inside, looks just like what you'd expect from a 19th century mountain cabin.  It came this way; I had nothing to do with the interior.  Nevertheless, I've tried to enhance the remote feeling of the place: an old fishing creel hung from the wall here, a carved wood lamp there, I've even got a small tree trunk with a hatchet in it by the wood-burning stove (the hatchet isn't solely for show, I use it to make stage two kindling from logs).

Imagine my joy upon being presented with a mounted deer head for the log cabin.  I'm told, just yesterday, I've earned a reputation around the neighborhood, not for being woodsy, but for being affable and helpful.  Affable, I'm okay with; helpful, nobody was supposed to know, I mean, beyond the people I've helped and me.  That's just what you do, you know, you help where it's needed, there should be nothing remarkable about that.  It bums me out a little to know it is remarkable.

I don't see any need to discuss my evidently noted deeds, except one, because the one led to the deer head.  An older woman who lives across the alley from me - in the city, front door faces the street, back door faces a gate to the alley - got out of the hospital, on a walker.  Man, did I admire her efforts to move things from her car to her home, but, of course, the instant I saw this, I asked if I could help.  She took me up on it, and without going into detail, I helped, because that's just what you do.  Nothing could be more important right then, not even a wedding or a funeral.  Maybe a sucking chest wound or other debilitating condition, that would excuse you.

Yesterday, I walked by the garages attached to her house.  One garage was open, and I heard rummaging as I approached.  A man's voice called my name - this stranger knows my name, incredible - from inside the garage as I passed.  We greeted each other, talked for awhile, he filled me in on how he knew of me, and so on.  I complimented the deer head he had in his garage.  He just gave it to me, despite my protests.  We wished each other well and parted.

Dr. Pepper.

Evidently, I am perceived by at least twelve people as this mountain man in a recent Dr. Pepper ad campaign.  I know twelve because that's how many emails I have in my inbox containing a YouTube link to some version of that ad.  Looks like there are four variants.