Feeding the birds

Things are changing. Just this week, switching THC for Baclofen, then adding back some some hemp- yes, still cannabis, though being under the federal legal limit of 2.5% (the variety I found is just 0.71%) it is technically legal in all 50 states. Also, and it might have been last week, I’ve added back in Tylenol too.

I believe I have now succumbed to the fact that my best life will not exist without drugs. I did not notice the positive effects of Baclofen when I first took it. It did nothing to relieve the pain in my leg and joints and when it was rapidly removed in May of last year, due to the doctors prescribing error (ordered a starting dose, with instructions to titrate to a full dose, and I could not fill the rx, when it ran out before the next 30 day cycle, due to following his titration instructions.) That was so very bad, one of the worst points of pain.

To have woken up the day, my left leg full dislocated, pulled tightly against my chest- ahh, now is not the time for the story, I do not need to remember that pain right now.

I don’t have much extra today. I have everything I need and still I cannot feed. Not today at least, I did last night though, oh all this talk of birds, and I just last night figured out who feeds them. We do, the sheep. We have to, God is now imaginary in this world.

My checking account nearly empty, I already have another large gift coming, (though I found out today it could be five more days.) A bird needed some juice for a late night flight and I was so happy they reached out to me, so that I could give up everything I did not need.

Today I need my strength, my sleeping is five hours off cycle; I woke up again well past ten. I need to physically exhaust myself and really, my mental energy is already down this week. If anyone has noticed, I’ve really been putting my writing “out there” this week as that is the only way the truths I’ve learned will be taught and help keep everyone safe. Between all that and a handful of lawsuits, my stress level is way past what is healthy for me.

All that stress today, touched off my anger in just a tiny way when I tried to decide which piece to write, right now. I really want and I know one day I will need and that one day soon, my next best step forward will be write a page about the greatest Coach I have ever known.

Yet now, a defense is needed for the jump I coached that day (a reasonable request from another AFFI,) as soon as I can find it in the Facebook group to make sure I give it’s proper reply.

Also, and this is part of the “bird” mentality intrinsic to the algorithm too, there are so many voices, so many posts, so much the algorithm decides if you will see or not (all those ways the system decides, no don’t follow that bird, not our feather.) To help the birds become sheep, they need to be fed- and these birds are real: actual human people. They need resources and information, and it has to be provided for them.

Part of my life now, if my goal to promote truth, and today the truth is that I need to rest, I need to focus on me. I just now, while looking for the link to an AFFI’s story of the student jump I was in charge of on my final jump. I found another post in the group that I had not seen. I’ve read all the comments and responses on my posts, yet there are so many more posts and comments in those posts, and now I see that I’ve gotten my daily bread, my monthly bread, my yearly bread, and my seventeen-month bread all at once.

Success. Thank God. Watching so many cop shows has finally paid off.  See, if you can’t prove the crime and it got swept under the rug. All you need to do is stir up the right amount of shit to cause a coverup. Those have so many loose lips, they are easy to prove.

Yet done wrong, you have to prove a lot of small details to prove the big fact. Now, me and my canopy coach are in rough agreement, save for one small detail: he claims he wasn’t there. Admit what you can’t deny and deny what you can’t admit- I knew that was a game he had played before (a nod here to one of my ex-chief packer friends.) See he also always said that he never had a sexual relationship with her in anyway.

But damn, have I always liked to get high. And in Rex’s old trailer I got high a lot- completely catatonic sometimes, if I didn’t have to drive. I have been so high that I can still hear and see the outside, but not to be able to speak. I can remember one time my friend John was looking right at me and asking a pretty direct question and I couldn’t even answer- and my eyes were still mostly open then too!

The night I am recalling now was in the beginning of year 2020, it might have been the very first weekend we open, or the next one or two. I had just met Shaggie and the ex-chief packer. Everyone was in Rex’s trailer that night, this his old trailer- now my older son’s! The way Rex had it back then was parked perpendicular to the camp road, now it sits parallel.

I slept there all the time, best I know I’ve still got an open spot on a couch there, Rex is my friend… if I was only allowed past the public parking log. In any case, that night I sleep/dozed/enjoyed my high (I slept worse back then than I do now) on the couch closer to the Darwin zone (I want to say the east side of trailer then, but more technically it would be the south/east side, with the tilt of the campground road.)

So many people early in the night and as I smoke I go in and out, holding my seat on the couch until there is room to lay down. Each time I open my eyes there are less people there and the more quiet it is. More thoughts in my mind as I just lay there waiting for sleep. The last time I opened my eyes that night, there were only two people left – Shaggie and the packer- making out, right there, three feet from me.

Shocked and unknowing this situation for all my years on that couch, and knowing neither of them really, having just met them the week or two before, I did nothing.  Really, are you supposed to say something in that situation? I guess a “hey guys, get a room” might have been appropriate.. yet only thinking of that line now, way past my usually ten seconds too late.

Ends up I didn’t need to say a thing, Shag had the situation under control. “Hey, let’s go back to my place.” And they got up and left while still trying to hold each other.  Now, I can not say where they went, only that I had nothing left to think about and I went back to sleep.

So, is Shaggie a gaslighter? Yes, I can prove that fact twice.  Thank you to the birds, your flocking gave him the confidence to hang himself. With Franz at his side, I thought he would be too smart. Except one more thing I know.. or rather, what I don’t.  I have no idea what Franz would/will do when he finds out.  He’s a DZO and a good one, he does not want blood on his field (or any other.)

Since Shaggie would have had to claim his innocence to Franz too, the advice would be different: If you’re innocent, make a statement, you can’t incriminate. Thank you Franz, for being you.

I love these fucking people. Be predicable, fly the pattern, be, be aggressive.

Every thing I’ve said can be forgiven and until then, my work on this front is almost done. I would we settle soon… I think my book with sell better and be better for the industry if I call a work of fiction instead of an autobiography.

It is time to focus on me, so much extra strength I’ve built in the last month that I took to feed the birds. If you do not fed the birds, they will not flock. I fed them my story, the only one I’ve got. Yet is now is for me, because the sheep’s eat first. No more pressure, no more race, the round is over and I have won.

Started writing very early today, it is now only seven oh two pm. Also posted my confession that I man written last night. A mile walk soon, then dinner, and then to bed early. It is time to make myself healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Time to rest.


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