I mistook the cooing for lovemaking noise, and the screaming of “Hrngnraii! NghraAAii! Nrghyi-i-i-i” for mere jealousy.

I really did.

Let me try to paint a picture of last night. You see, wheat happens to us–all of us, if we are not focused on the moment–living in the moment–is that we lose touch with the agonies of harsh reality. We grow comfortable–and some of us grow extremely fat–by mocking the troubles of others, or by exacerbating them.

Like bullies who pick on the blind, and other vulnerable people, some cannot help themselves but to prey upon the weak–because strong, to them, is where it’s really happenin’, man!

For whatever reason, I am one of those who cannot focus on anything BUT the living moment. I have little to no long term schemes, or, in your world, plans for anything other than what this is: a documentary of life as it was lived.

And in that light–even then, I become like the people who do not live in fish world–I become flawed in my observations; inherently wrong in my assumptions, and base my existence in hand to mouth escapades wherein I am perceived as a righteous person, intent upon collecting data that feeds many, while appearing to be not so well fed myself. By appearing to be hard working.

Which is a distinct difference between your world, and my fishbowl. Because, here in my fishbowl, it appears that I merely swim around all day, waiting like a supplicant for the next flakes of golden colored fish food–which, in some regards, is accurate–but have YOU ever tried swimming all day in the same bubble?

I bet your flabby arms would fall off–and surely, you would lose some of that weight that you carry around like armor. Really–relax–and get a grip! After all, in your world of arms, and races, there are things to hold onto when you win, right? Like paychecks. And, the outward appearance that you are morally right, even when those of us like me, spend our days documenting the legal ethical and moral wrongs that you perpetrate in order to perpetuate that image.

Fish don’t do any of those things. Our payoff is to merely get through another day, observing your types. AND, I might add, many fish die of malnutrition, because they are always gulping after your shadows, whereas I actually wait for you to show up with your fish food-and I act all nervous, and you feed me even more, then;-)

ButI don’t gulp after shadows–I photograph them, and store them away decade after decade (take another look at this one–this is the one that I gave you six years ago, just to put you on notice–and even then? Yup–you guessed it, all of those other ones were stored…um, never mind.)

But nobody lives their life in a bubble-and no man is an island, either. And women who wear size eight sneakers might want to revisit their surveillance techniques, because flipping your long blonde hair?  A dead giveaway–but of WHAT?

But maybe it would help you to know? When you look in my fishbowl from the outside, I appear much larger than I really am! And you, much smaller.

I think this has led your worlds people to think that I am easily fed, twice more than I needed to be–wouldn’t you agree?

And when your boots came stomping through my world in these lost decades? The reason you never were able to step on me is because I am much, much smaller than you were led to believe by all of those fishermen that came before you-and they, without permits.

You see, the end game is actually not what you think it is, but rather, how you appear, as you thrash about, trying to smash goldfish under your heels (size six, size eight–amended up from size five and six, after a recent review of your prints)–ahhh! YOUR prints. How DID they get THERE??? .And I imagine, you might taste awfully sweet, when I feed you to a certain Bear, that, for now, tells you there is nothing that he is aware of that in any way resembles what you came hunting for.

But unlike those who do not live in fish world, I write about this, for my own personal safety. In code, because the simple language of “why have you broken all of those laws, and that for so long, just to peek in my bowl?

Yes–the answer is that life–and certain programs that run within it, are indeed unfair–to those most vulnerable to your type of predation.

And, another answer–and I hope this helps you frame the dialogue-is that, when you and others handed me that manilla envelope in 1998? Yeah–I had already begun bringing witnesses into this charade that you have waged against me–this decades long enfarcement of law.

Security theater rule number one: make sure an audience is interested in the story. Then, start writing, says moreconvinced, with my permission, sans ethics, sans law, and sans oversight–especially, sanitize oversight.

Yeah, me too-I am moreconvinced as well.

But I am not whining “Hrnhgnai-i-i! Yiieeip!Yieeeip!.”

Nope, more like a small, but steady growl, in your direction, since 1993, and counting.

 

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