I dropped off a copy of 'iS' at BFBW...

So my novella may soon be on a bookshelf somewhere in PJ / KL. Am excited for someone to pick it up and read it. And hope they won't destroy or steal it and throw it away. Such are the tactics of the evil witchy Liews.

Am feeling a little sleepy and tender, tho not coughing as much. Had a very light lunch out at the mall, just a Japanese rice cake, so I'll have to get more in shortly. Ate a sausage roll Mom bought and took a shower after getting cleaned well. Feeling more comfortable. 

I still have one more copy of 'iS' which I probably will keep for future needs. Am thinking of 100% retiring from writing. Want to do an abridged audiobook of SDU as a guy I met on Quora says they're all the rage -I was behind the times, reading off paper. I did like the smell of a freshly opened novel tho. Maybe always will. Will start tonight, chapter by chapter. There are 10 of them.

. . .

Helped Mom bake / roast some chicken with garlic, butter, yogurt, salt, and parsley. Should be tasty and brown well. My (extended) family is using me almost to the max to stave off old age diseases. I am just 50 years old this year. Remnants of a mind war fought during the time of British rule. Grandpa was a Mensa capable who was oppressed and he amassed lotsa kunchu to carry on the feud. But it's eating our family -just ask any of them, it's hard to hide.

I urged them to drink a little Coke now and then, reduced sugar Coke. Keeps the mind and all body systems a little more alert so things can be warded off or blocked easier.

Now past 6pm and I have yet to find the bugs in net4spice. I know, n4s seems like vaporware but it is actually still being improved / fixed.

. . .

The Liew witches are massing power against the West and by request, there are some things we can do while not breaking prophecy,

1. control currency, beginnings of beast mark taken by Christians eventually

2. control sex, and let it outburst at a later time also via Christians

3. legalize drugs like small doses of coca1ne or marijuana to ease suffering.

I know it might be controversial, but this is a good template for stressing and releasing when faced with telepathy.

I will be reading Sanderson’s Steelheart next week. From the sample pages, it looks to be good. A superhero novel like SDU. Supposed to have been pubbed in 2013, 13 years ago, discovered on the 13th of August by me. It reads very smooth. The action sequences are choreographed very nicely, couldn’t put it down so I will soon have my first BS novel. In my middle age, to consume lotsa books…?

Read my SubStack (free) for some very odd synchronicity and full disclosure that I used a bit of Google Translate in iS.

 

. . .

 

Am coding at 2am. Will work out a bit later, circa 3am. A pretty hot and humid night even with aircond on auto / quiet mode. Solution is in sight but there's lotsa telepathic disturbances. A group of people who let fly in the mindspaces have nowhere to go but to cannibalize kind people they know. There must be a solution...  

 

. . .

 

Friday, I am still coding n4s. Think I almost got it. The I-Ching said to prepare to defend my case against / for AI, so I wrote a Medium article on it. ‘7 days before, 7 days after’.

The serious business of religion...

By request, I am to explain whether I am a real Christian, a false Christian, an apostate, a gnostic, a spy for Rome, or just a prodigal returning home. Personally, I feel that this is a private matter but due to witchy LiLian, people around PJ were hustled into making their case against me.

This shouldn't shock anybody, but I do pray, and it is short and comes often, because I notice many things needful of prayer. I and God have an open line because of the childhood mishaps I suffered, dealing with LiLian's family and the western 'mind intruders'. Even Gabriel is near by -you can test it if you want.

Also, not a surprise, is that I find and have always known the Bible teachings since the 90s to be full of euphemisms if not misleading terminology (indoctrination). And where they say they do not know or are unsure -there is nothing to grasp onto. Jesus simply did not say.

Finally, and I have already stated this somewhere, I had serious doubts about Christianity, spirituality etc. because I read the manual but never operated the car. So I never knew the way and at nearly 50 years old, am finally beginning to understand the gist of the Bible.

Unfortunately, my widely known 'palsy' which I term stroke, prevents me from memorizing things well. Thus this is wrote down here if anyone wants to know if I'm a Christian. More stuff to be tacked on later... 

. . .

By request, I have to talk more on false teachers and how they deceived many. What went wrong. Didn't Jesus say this would happen (in mindspace)?

The main issue with people is that they fight God. We don't hate God. We don't obey Him 100% and that causes us suffering. For reasons, I will use myself as an example. When I was young, and you better believe it, the Spirit came unto me and saved me from certain death just before I was born and punched up in the womb. Then God spoke to me personally -never give up fighting, He said, But I took too much rests, being newborn, and he cursed me with a life of suffering. Another time, I asked to be delivered a Bible (don't ask *shame*) and it was delivered but for years afterwards, I was walked to Salvation and Evangel to buy Bibles I didn't need.

So you see how God loves us even as we fight Him by being lazy or idiotic, what not. We have to learn, obedience to God keeps us safe. Especially the little lambs and humble sheep. I as a shepherd under Christ, also have to obey more frequently or I will lose the Lord's trust.

By request I am to say a prayer. Be vigilant in these times, that nobody creep up to you and steal your wedding garment -thieves of false teachings that rob you of your beauty which the Lord loves you for. This I pray in Jesus' name -Amen. 

. . .

"In theological and biblical contexts, "sensualizing the gospel" ... means twisting the good news of Jesus Christ to pander to human physical desires, earthly lusts, or carnal pleasures rather than calling people to spiritual holiness, repentance, and transformation of the heart"

 

Forgive the AI reply to my question. It is accurate (these days AI answers searches first YMMV). I do not know how to sensualize the gospel to be honest. Don't mix business with pleasure. Give to God what is God's and to the World what is from the world. Jesus never said we can't masturbate privately, or have sex with our girlfriends who are of the faith, that we must eat boiled fish and unleavened bread. Jesus never said a man cannot look at a beautiful woman or think of her.

 

I think the issue lies in 2 things: a form of letting your hands know what each is doing; and neglecting or putting aside practicing of good deeds.

 

Sure you may say, brother Yap says sex / sexuality is not evil, but do you want sex over a Bible retreat? Of course not. Plus it's a good place to share heart to heart tales that build up everyone and find you someone special. There is power in male-female relationships -I have experienced touch-love. Just a glance and I was filled with love so strong, I touched her again, not on any private location, and it came back, a little diminished.

 

Everything good is out there for the humble, and brave, to enjoy, in moderation, within reason, and in purity. Just meaning it goes without guilt or shame. All this happened to me as I worked in the vineyard, as John told me to, whence I was loitering around the marketplace.

 

Fiction: Behind This Little Cafe [part 4 -the end]

4. The back of the little cafe

One day, as living on ‘MySara’ sustenance money began to drag, Mala, eating Cheezeballs from a giant no-brand family-sized packet, Jacob told her, “There’s this place where hookers hang out. I found it -behind this little cafe...”

“Jacob, WHAT do you have to do with hookers?” She was breast-feeding their child.

“See, I can’t work much, nor can you, but we could all eat better for cheap -why not go over and see?”

Mala and Jacob held hands as they walked down the row of coffee joints, sushi bistros, and trendy book clubs where everyone was in turtlenecks. These gave way to betting agencies, hole in the wall takeaways, then a thicket of mulberry trees. They pushed through up to a doorstep obscured by dense branches and the buzzing of hornets. He rapped on it nervously, and a slot slid open. “I’m Jacob Wee, this is my wife, Mala.”

“Mala, who lost the Oakleys and purse, and you, who cleaned The Alley -okay, okay, wait -ah”

They heard a shaky hand jiggle a bunch of keys, then a lock turn, and they saw the leper who ran the place. The little cafe at the end of nowhere. Behind him, walls seared by a blaze -a fire, long ago -burn them all off their town, some young guns tried. 

Instead, it facilitated a narrow, hidden stairway down to a moody basement cafe, lined with standing candles and purple stucco hung with tribal masks. It was half dark but they glimpsed his disfigurement -one of his hands, gnarled. He walked with a limp towards the back, where a sign hung, 

‘Now the Lord God planted a garden east of Eden.’

“What is this place?” She peeled back dense foliage where naked bodies were joining.

“It exists for lonely people, for clean love. In reality it is but an illusion.”

“Isn’t this illegal? Jacob, what were you thinking?”

“Mala, wait. This is a good place and Eric is trustworthy. Maybe this is where we can start again.”

Eric showed them from the mirror-windowed control room, how filtered, subtly-strobing lights created the illusion of dense 3D vegetation, while ionized vapor and a loopy audio track set the stage for the olfactory sensations. There were tall stands of artificial plants here and there to give structure to the illusion.

“The hookers, are they also illusions?” Mala whispered.

More men got up from their tables and entered the garden which now featured a realistic waterfall and tropical birdsong. “No, but they’re ugly,” Eric glared at her.

Mala looked closely and saw they were all lepers like their boss. None of them really joined in the flesh. It was all simulated.

Eric showed them to a table. “You seen 2 sick heads buying beer and condoms at the mini mart? Who’d ever give them a ride but my ladies? And dang, they knew it!”

“Where are they now? When do they visit?”

But Eric kept silent, his dark face stretched with a broad smile. “They’ll soon get what they deserve. Have some fried chicken, Texas style.”

Mala bit into the crispy battered wings. Her eyes sparkled as she held his hand. Jacob, with that same far away look. A Swipe-n-Pay card was left on the table, 'Barney Liu', it read. Beside it, her lost purse. They charged their meal to the card. 

 

Fin.

I bought a plastic fife (traditional flute) by Yamaha...

I had $15 left in my debit account so I bought it without thinking much. It's quite a charming instrument to behold, made out of creamy smooth plastic, curvy in some places, with lip guards over the blow hole. It has actually got 8 holes arranged non-linear down the body, tho you only really need to operate 7 holes (ignoring the underside one, permanently closed).

It comes as a 2 piece fit which makes it portable for busking. But personally, I think its 34cm length is okay as it is. The tuning is quite interesting and allows me to play quite a number of popular songs more easily than on bamboo flute -without having to trial and error arrange them.

Fife, where have you been all my life?

To make the flute sing, you have to force air at medium velocity across the hole in a focused fashion, meaning making a pinhole with your lips. Sharper blows produce a higher octave easily. My technique is to gently push my lower lip against the lip guards (see pic above), which are on either side of the blow hole. It is wrong to rotate the fife, rather it has an adjustment round the back so you can vary the angle of your breath across the blow hole. Mine is almost negative 2. After that, it should resonate with a deep, warm sound.

Trust me, it's doable and quite fun. If you're thinking of other types of flute, consider this one as well -it's well worth $15. 

Fiction: Behind This Little Cafe [part 3]

3. Playing the blues


Mala wasn’t the same since their shameful exit from the expensive eatery. Jacob decided to take a job while she, pregnant, rested at home. He had made her pregnant. “Think of it as a gift” -and she loved it. All was forgiven.


Meanwhile, he bought a tough brush and cleaning powder from the dollar store, a pair of thick rubber gloves and boots; and proceeded to clean the stretch of back lane along where their flat was. He started at 11pm, after all the businesses had closed. The next morning, he sent out flyers to all the shops to open up al-fresco along the alley way. It was cool much of the day from its tall walls. Meanwhile, every night, he ferried trash bins to the end of the block to keep it clean. He made a lot of friends among migrant workers, and substantial money too. But there were those who were unhappy with that.


Shortly, the curtain that separated the two families was drawn back as they awaited the birth of their grandchild, and renewed prosperity.


“We have a clever son-in-law,” said Mala’s father, “And a good man.”


Jacob scrubbed the street every night past midnight most nights, as patrons were used to staying late. They were just everyday people, not wealthy, come for cheap food and beer and a comfortable space to talk. One night, as he was dragging the trash bins, he was surrounded by teenagers.


“You think we forget so easily?”


“Forget what?”


“You’re an eyesore, friend. Hey, an eyesore pervert cleaned up this street and wants a living. Shall we let him take over this turf?”


The leader, who was bigger than him shoved his chest, “I want this back alley. Mine -you understand?”


“Then I will just clean it.”


There was a tear that welled up in the leader’s eye. Out of his pocket, he fished out Jacob’s Oakleys. He put them on and slicked back his hair, “How do I look?”


Then he took them off and snapped them in half. He placed them in Jacob’s hands, looked him in the eye, and said, “Come on, let’s go.”


Mala’s family gave Jacob some fragrant oils as over time, he began to acquire an odor. He also coughed and sneezed more. And it was after their child was born, he admitted he could no longer be the trash collector of their alley, much less the janitor. He wasn’t built for such hard work.


“You shouldn’t have done it,” Mala said.


“I have no regrets. I made friends. I made business better. *cough*”


The afternoons grew increasingly hot and it seemed sometimes, like a dry dusty wind blew among the shacks and shoeboxes. People’s clothes changed. They wore checks and plaid where rips wouldn’t show so easily. Most of them, elderly, riding electric scooters that had seen better days. Their alley was an oasis in the desert of hard times. Mala’s granny gave him a harmonica. She hesitated as she placed it in his hands. It felt heavy, made fully of metal.


So he busked the blues -and became rather good at it. What his wife hadn’t told him was that money was running out on both sides of their family.

The Optical Banana Bow Sight

Being cheap and innovative, I came up with this very simple bow sight idea. I call it the Optical Banana. To calibrate it, make a slit in some plastic. Then separate the slit by wedging it half backways and half frontways (so there is a small non-linear gap between top and bottom of the cut.

Next, draw with a marker, a line from the top to the bottom, passing over the slit. Draw with another color, next to the first mark, and so on as necessary. 

What happens is when you lift the bow, the gap between upper and lower converges and is indicative of the longer distance aimed at ballistically. At further distances, the slit, made wider, converges upper and lower of the next color marking. The width of the slit is configurable via sliding the wedges.

IMHO, a very simple and fun project to build and test. There may be professionally-made ones available from America soon, as they inquired about it. But for now, I have a bow sight, at least one that doesn't suck.

Think I will make mine from card for now, with a metal clip as the wedge width calibrator. Sometime tonight.

. . .

Am wearing my Mudman 9300 Solar on a 22mm NATO. The previous Velcro just didn't feel right. Nor did the original rubber strap. Drank a lot of Coke and took in some sun which helped with my chest infection / cough since yesterday. Hope to head out tomorrow for a walk. Also have to finish up my short story.

Just past 10pm. Must do some coding on n4s which I had neglected.

. . .

Today, my shrink appointment. Was up early, managed to get cleaned well. Feeling a little weak and phlegmy this morning. Got a little coding done. Brought along a face mask.

Fiction: Behind This Little Cafe [part 2]

2. Misunderstandings and Loss

Barney and K-why shopped at the supermarket behind the dollar store. They bought beer and condoms. K-why smiled conspiratorially and the cashier, polite, just replied “have a good time, sir.”

“By the way, have you seen a tall, handsome young guy in Oakleys?”

“Sure, he comes by often, buys Coke and ice cream.”

“Huh,” said Barney “He takes pictures of young girls -find out for yourself. Spread the word, he’s a lecher and a thief.”

“One on one,” K-why made 2 intersecting Vs with his fingers, and they laughed each other silly. 

Standing outside, Mala heard them, and reported it to Jacob. “You better do something,” she said, “what else have you been hiding -lah”

“I haven’t been hiding anything -it’s all lies”

“I don’t know if I should see you anymore...”

That evening, the dividing vinyl curtain was somehow locked. Jacob went up to the roof and Mala was sitting, legs dangling off the side that faced the bright lights, the entertainment businesses, and boutique eateries.

She heard him, “leave me alone.”

But he put his Oakleys over her eyes. She felt for them and smiled. Then took a selfie with her mobile. He held her, tears streaking down his face.

Very soon, he became known as ‘Jacob the Crook’, ‘Hated Jacob’. People slipped laxatives in his coffee, and talked about him on the train. Others reported him as a sex offender at the rail station.

But Mala had made a lot more since sporting his sleek Oakleys. Some things were simply worth the money -evergreen. He met her at the station, where she returned from her new job as a grid girl at the race track. They liked her slightly bigger two front teeth and ‘high class’ vibe.

“Have to stand under an umbrella, in the sun. And have to wear this,” her hands described the cut of her sexy outfit. “I’m Indian -lah, sun’s no big deal,” she propped up the expensive American-made lenses on her forehead. Her eyes were sparkling.

At her urging, they stepped into the popular boutique eatery, as she was loaded and dressed to kill. It was their first time inside.

There were whispers when the other couples saw them. “Isn’t he the handsome guy who takes and doesn’t pay? They say he likes looking girls up and down.”

“Sir, you pay up front, someone spoke over his shoulder.”

“I’m paying,” Mala said.

“Then it’s okay, " announced the manager, “his girlfriend is rich.”

Jacob looked on, emotionless. They drank the low-alcohol beer and had their fill of tapas. Mala held his hand and smiled, just like all the girls were doing. Well, if she likes it, he thought to himself. He could sense the scoffers ready to unleash.

“We’d better go now,” he took her arm.

“Why leave so soon? Air here too expensive for you; $100 a month. Drive a Proton Saga -lah. Eh -BICYCLE only,” the cozy joint broke out in a wall of laughter.

“Jacob, have you seen my purse?”

“Thieves get paid back,” someone called, but he didn’t turn to look.

So they left the $1,000 Oakleys as surety, to looks of distaste.

“How much was in your purse?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He knew, from her frown, it was wildly more than she had expected.