Early morning winter sun; I watch it.
Only one thing on my mind, only one thing on my lips:
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!
I am the way of the universe to love itself.

Steinway Tower looks like a product of an amateur CGI artist. It’s so out of place! I want to love it, like I love all skyscrapers, but I can’t. Maybe it would fit nicely somewhere in Hong Kong. But there, on the edge of Central Park, it irritates the eye.

Why do many chess players act like they are some sort of intellectual elite? You guys waste your time and energy learning a skill that is utterly useless anywhere in the world except for the game of chess. Someone so impractical and shortsighted should rather be concerned about having a mental disorder or brain damage. Maybe stop being so damn pretentious? (It must be clarified that I am exaggerating here for a comical effect. Not sure if that’s something a chess player can recognize.)

Why do we associate “losers” with someone who is playing video games and not someone who is playing chess? At least video games can teach you something useful. Most of them develop your spatial awareness. Shooters give you some rudimentary understanding of real-life warfare. Cooperative games teach you to understand and prioritize your team’s needs. And so on.

When it comes to board games specifically, there are so many better alternatives. For example, Texas hold ’em. It is an objectively amazing game. It requires two whole domains of applicable skills.

The first domain is social. You must be able to read people and influence them. To play well, you will have to answer questions such as: Is she a careful player or is she acting? Is that a suppressed joy on his face? How long should I wait, what body language should I use, and what bid should I place so that they all think I am bluffing?

The second domain is mathematical. You must be able to quickly estimate your chance of getting this or that combination, your opponents’ chances, the amount of money worth the risk, etc. You may call it the “intuition for numbers” which, I’d argue, is important for anyone who is interested in anything beyond the mundane “What should I watch on Netflix next?”

Another great praiseworthy board game is Scrabble. It improves your literacy. If Scrabble were as popular as chess, the world would be a better place.

It annoys me that chess is so popular. Because of this, when I watch any video about any unrelated board game, YouTube starts to push on me all these chess recommendation videos with cringe thumbnails.

This was my dream on the morning of December 3, 2024.

In my dream, I was exterminating livestock together with some other woman. Presumably, we used our bare hands for the job. It was now the turn of a big pig. But I couldn’t force myself to hurt the animal. I pulled a gun for the job.

With my right hand, I tried to aim the gun carefully behind the pig’s head. With my left hand, I rubbed its belly, calming it down and cheering it up. The woman was seemingly more experienced. She showed me how to hold the gun, how to hold the head of the animal, and where to shoot for the best result.

The pig turned into a little girl of three or four years old. In my dream, this was nothing worthy of a surprise or even a notice.

As I was curling the girl’s head closer to her body, as instructed, she had a glimpse of understanding of what was happening. She became visually anxious and started to call to her friend. It was not a scream for help though. She eagerly wanted to see them soon but displayed no resistance. It was as if she wanted to tell them something important. Her last words.

What could she possibly have important to say? Whatever she may have felt was important would have been in reality insignificant. It was best to end her mental suffering immediately. It took me only a second to recognize true intentions, weigh the options, and even linger from the lack of determination. But it was a very long and painful second. I finally pulled the trigger.

Her blood started to seep through her neck. I didn’t want her blood to get unclean from the contact with the surface where she was lying. I took her gently into my arms and moved her elsewhere.

I then recalled the reasoning behind today’s actions. I had seen it. It was crystal clear. With this certainty, a farmer harvests his crops. He does not stop to ponder, “Must I not harvest? Does the wheat or the carrots or the cotton plants want to live and enjoy the sunshine?” My cold calculating mind saw everywhere and considered everything and left no room for the slightest hesitation. And yet, and yet…

It felt so bad. I wondered what I could do to best commemorate the girl, to express warmth, tenderness, and most earnest appreciation for the years she lived. The only right answer came naturally: I am obliged to cook her well and consume her fully.

I loathed the human world! The world where you were compelled — even by law! — to suppress your feelings for the deceased loved ones and surrender their bodies to the cold and filthy ground drenched with the stink of the detestable rotting strangers cramped there all around. Where the rains will flood their final resting chambers, where the worms will gnaw their molding faces.

My eyes were filled with tears. I went outside. In the clear winter sky, I was greeted by the awe-inducing Sun. It was pure white, with a flaming red outline. It shone so bright that the horizon in proximity appeared pitch-black. But there was more. It was accompanied by the smaller suns — a phenomenon people call “sun dogs.” And there was more: those suns had their own sun-companions. There were around nine shining orbs in the sky. It felt so unreal yet not entirely impossible, like a double or triple rainbow. This breathtaking sight made me very excited. I called to my mother to come and witness the miracle. Though very soon I started to realize that the smaller suns were in reality nothing more than the light from the street lamps in the distance.

I declare poetic fortnight #2. The rules remain the same: I must produce a piece of rhyming poetry, however bad, every day. I want to improve my English proficiency, and I believe this can help (immensely). I will try not to put too much effort into it.

…

November 14 – November 23

1. Chronic Illness

The chronic illness will progress, unless you want to stress
How faithful are your mind and soul to our Church. We bless
Against the snap of darkness all whose loyalty will fall
Not short. It’s nothing you may call a grave or noble toll.

2. His Wayward Mind

His wayward mind fell into shock at such an evil thought:
To murder infant regal twins and tie them in a knot.

3. Mushroom Stew

My mother drifts among the stars; and I am drifting too!
Her ass is dead. And I have just got high on mushroom stew.

4. Emperor of Sol

His throne — Olympus Mons of Mars,
His judgment reigns above us all,
His gaze transfixes distant stars,
Almighty Emperor of Sol.

5. Their Industrial Landscape

His metal hands, her plastic face.
These two adorn what humans would escape.
The stormy skies, the barren place.
They cherish their industrial landscape.

6. Sentient Eyes

I dreamt of squares, and circles too;
They march’d and whirl’d and grew in size.
It was a nightmare then, I knew,
When they revealed their sentient eyes.

7. While I Sleep

You’re such a weirdo, such a creep!
Are you a pervert in disguise?
Would you then care to fertilize
My woman’s body while I sleep?

8. Your Crops Have Died

Your crops have died, and flowers withered.
Your orchards bore no fruit this fall.
You lost your sight. Your wife delivered
A stillborn baby in a caul.

9. Forlorn

Forlorn, ostensibly, was she
Whom ocean that primordial begot;
And then, abandoned, left her be,
Alone, unaided, and forgot.

10. In defiance

In defiance of the warnings of the elders I will spit
In that mystic pitch-black endless eerie-howling gaping pit.

…

Okay, I failed. I lost the determination to compose even the tiniest two-liners. Well, if I hadn’t been willing to share failures, I’d have been even less motivated. It wasn’t pointless nonetheless.

To give them an edge in their perilous position, nobles of the past trained their kids in swordsmanship. Nobles of the future will train their kids to withstand acceleration. Whether to escape, pursue, or maneuver, your limiting factor won’t be technology or wits, but the ability to survive high-g environments.

(At least in one possible timeline.)