[Edit: People have been telling me that it sounds like I’m actually saying my blessings out loud. No: It’s all in my head. Everything is in my head. You are in my head.]
My name is Jimbeaux and I have anger issues.
Primarily at myself. Especially over the past year. Since I screwed up so bad. And lost my best friend. Friends.
Anyway: This site is called Blessings for a reason. Blessings are my weapon against my anger.
’Cause you can’t use anger against anger: it’s sort of like fighting fire with gasoline. You can’t use any sort of push muscles against anger, ’cause it just pushes back.
So I try to bless my anger.
Usually my blessings start out sounding more like cusses: Bless my goddamn m-f’ing black heart and all the worms within. But the more blessed cusses I spit out, the less cussy they become, and I get to the point of managing something almost on the nice side: Bless my stupid self so that I may become less stupid.
It works especially well against other people. If someone is pissing me off, I start throwing blessings at him: Bless him for his ever so meticulous way of wasting my time. Again, the more blessings I spit out, the sort of nicer they become. Certainly nicer than directly cussing him out.
Tonglen is another nice practice for dealing with negative energies. You breathe in negative energies, filtering them through your own self, so that when you breathe out, they’re positive energies.
May you have a better day for having read this.
It won’t work.
What made me think it would work.
Have a good life
Cady, look! No one dies alone! End Friends! Psychopompery! All right here:
Can you believe it? Just like you always talked about.
I’d love to hear more from you.
I’d love to hear from you.
(Have you seen your book? Chrome Cady
I’m still waiting for the Look Inside, but maybe it’s there by now…)
CADY! Your book:
Chrome Cady: A Quote Woman on the Run
It’s published! Done! Out there! I’ve shipped copies.
How about that subtitle, eh?
Listen to the quiet voices: Hear the energies I’m sending out to you.
Please contact me.
Or at least enjoy all the quotations in the book.
I don’t know if you’re paying any attention at all. I don’t know if you even care any more.
But I care.
Your book is so close to being finished. It’s being reviewed. I don’t think I have any more changes to make (can you believe it?). Get it reviewed. Look over the proof. Publish. Done.
I wrote it to send the good energies out to you, and draw you back to me or me to you.
I hope it works.
Cady! Look! It’s fer real!
Or it will be.
Believe it or not, I’ll be getting my proof copy next week! (Most likely, my first proof copy . . .)
See the broccoli on the cover? Remember?
Call me! Email me! Contact me! Are you okay?
Your book, Chrome Cady, is pretty much written. The last time I read it over, it made me cry, mainly because I can’t imagine how you’re getting through this alone. I’m hoping you’re not alone, that you have good people around you.
You don’t have to read the book, but I wanted you to know what happened.
All the permission requests for the gazillion quotes are submitted; I’m still waiting on a lot of replies, but many generous people have kindly granted their permission.
Call me! Contact me somehow.
Redundancy isn’t so bad . . .
Book Designers of the World: Look at that page pictured above. See that thing at the bottom, the number there: That’s called a drop folio. It’s not usually highlighted and boxed like that, but I wanted to draw your attention to it.
It’s just as easy to add to a template as adding the page number to a running head, and it fills itself in with the page number (just like a running head page number!) in page layout software.
So why not use it? Why are so many books being published with no page number on the chapter opening page?
The table of contents points to each chapter opening page—points to pages that have no page numbers. Who came up with that brilliant design?
With the permission requests, at least. That is, they’re all out there.
Thank you so much to all the people who are working on my requests. Thank you especially to all the kind people who have granted requests.
Back to being distracted by life . . .
That’s the title of your book, Cades. For obvious reasons. At least I hope they’re obvious. And now the cat is out of the bag. (Is it Schrödinger’s cat?)
For the masses who are not in my gang: I chrome the things I love.
Now the cat’s really out of the bag . . .