Whether it comes to fruition or not, there is the possibility of a quest; for all of life there is greater success with preparation. The only preparation of true necessity is for war, the description of life and its interactions. No man is betrayed by preparing himself for battle.

Physical preparation is done on a daily basis just by challenging life. The preparation of one's only significant and true weapon, the mind, is done when it is focused on the struggle and the lessons necessary to vanquish — which includes acceptance — the struggle. (At times, the biggest part of that battle is identifying the true nature of the struggle.) Like bodies, minds are not created equal, and only the sharpest can be trained and used as a superior weapon; most do not have the mind necessary to train themselves to use the bodies as more than a blunt object. To rule beyond the peak physical prowess years, the mind must be honed and unmistaken when age sets in and bends and beats the brutish body. A well trained mind is the blow one strikes into his eighties, causing virile flows of youth to submit to his dreams; dreams shaped with a focused and trained mind...all of this to say I am again reading Sun Tzu's The Art of War.

Every interaction is a battle; every advance or retreat should strengthen your position; your position is where you find yourself, where you have placed yourself. I read the sparse and focused words of Sun Tzu and it reminds that the mind is the greatest weapon, the only real weapon. Having withdrawn from who I am for so long, I fear the battle within. The struggle is the fear, the knowing, my body cannot battle as it once had, especially with so many have a pure mass 3x their optimal structure, but when the mind is used and the physi...

The voice outside, it is too loud. I cannot train my mind and my body is not interested. I wait for the noise to subside. It does for about a minute, then begins again.

“Pleeeease!” I pray aloud.

The noise stops again, then promptly returns.

One must know how to train the mind; the when; the where; the how. One must know when the mind cannot be trained, and for the me in thee it is when outside noise is visiting uninvited. This is a problem that must be addressed.

Is it wiser to change your location or rearrange the world around you? As long as you know the wise answer, you are on the right path, but knowing the answer does not necessarily mean you will make the wisest decision, as many a great lesson can come from conflict, and rearranging the world around you will undoubtedly create conflict.

In only underwear, I go to the backdoor and shout at the guys training outside — where I would usually be with them — to keep it down. I am not sure what happened, but they did not appear to hear a word I barked. They continued their training unabated.

“Break!” I shouted. They stopped and looked at me inquisitively. “You should take a break,” I added once their full attention was secured.

“Why?” one of them, politely asked, tilting his head.

“'cause I'm reading.”

I heard some chuckles. They returned to their training. Fighting them to win the battle would be an appropriate response, if my mind was a billy club, but Sun Tzu would suggest another action...and this battle is unnecessary, as my object of the moment is to train my mind.

“You guys keep training. Wait, whose phone is that?”

“Mine. Why?”

“I'll fight you to use it,” I offered.

“Just use the fuckin' phone, idiota.”

I did not mean to frighten him, I just thought I could help him train in exchange for the use of the phone. Greatness of presence must have been emanating.

“Thank you.”

I called the soft sweet candy in the tiny cottage.

“Hello?” she answered, hesitantly.

“Hi. You need to pick me up,” I suggested.

“Wha...? This issssss...? Pick you up? I'm sorry, I have company."

“Well, you need to make a decision. You enjoyed my last visit and who knows when this opportunity will present itself again. I need quiet. Would you like to pick me up and take me to your humble cottage, but the final decision is the one you will have to make?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't... A friend is here right now...”

“Sorry to bother...”

“No! No. Just a minute. Where are you?”

“My place.”

“I'll be there in a few.”

The connection went dead. I returned to my room, dressed and went to wait on the curb with my reading material. She arrived in short order and whisked me back to her cottage where peace and quiet would allow me to sharpen the mind's pointedness.

After entering the cottage, the nose of excellent odiferous analysis was swamped by the sweet scent of alluring candy freshness and without hesitation the chemical interactions integrated in such a way that we found ourselves in her boudoir, which meant the mental sharpness will be sharpened upon completion...uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhuuuuuuuuh...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

The most powerful of weapons...so innocently subdued...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Having spent a few days with the sweet soft candy of chewy coworkerness, she felt comfortable enough to approach the presence to comfort her mind.

“Are you moving in?” she asked, triggering an instant, automatic response.

“No, this is my last night. I'll be going home in the morning.”

Sensing she had pushed the presence, she tried to comfort. Climbing upon the flesh of fun and fight, she said, “You don't have to go. You can stay, or you can go, or you can stay and come and go, or just come and go as you want. Do whatever, I don't care. Whatever you want.”

“Thank you, but I have a complete inability to study and train in your presence. You are far too edible to consider caring about the ugliness in the world around us, and I find I see more beauty when immersing myself in the ugly.”

“You're such an ass.”

“Thank you, I have been working out.”

“I want to punch you.”

“If it will bring you pleasure, strike away.”

She of a chewy nature was not prepared for permission to release her pent up passion, rage.

“Go ahead,” I encouraged, selfishly wanting to feel more than the simple bliss of pleasure. “It's okay, hit me.”

A look of confusion drew across her fresh face as she realized the offer and permission were sincere.

“I will,” she threatened, pulling her arm back slightly, asking for confirmation of permission.

“Well, go ahead.”

Her full naked body sitting upon me, she pulled her arm back further with a clenched fist.


“Sure, but you have your fingers over your thumb. Your thumb goes outside, over your fingers, when you punch.”

Pulling her thumb from under her boney fingers and placing it above the waiting knuckles, she said, “Thanks, I'm gonna do it.”

“So you've said.”

Unclenching her fist and opening her hand, she gently swung and slapped the face, and though there was a flash of pain, attention could not be diverted from the beauty of her perfect flesh and plump breasts moving in a moment of violent release. A smile was necessary.

“You're smiling? You liked that? I bet you want to hit me now?”

Smiling in response, she struck again. She was becoming quite aroused, not alone in the feeling. Grabbing the flesh below her hips tightly, painfully firm, she was positioned for candy mixing, mashing and swirling.

“Is that all you got!?” she challenged, striking again, letting herself go.

The grip on her flesh loosened, then tightened around more — motion controlled.

Aggression was met with aggression, and in short order the scene of seduction became a struggle of controlling, violent passion. Eventually, following leads, her chewiness was on her back with the hand of goodness firmly grasping her neck, both acknowledging the power restrained. It was a pleasant gorging of sweetness before gluttony sated both.

After a night's sleep in the embrace of the soft embracing bosom of serenity, it was time to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go.”

“But...but last night was...was... Why?”

“Which is why I must return to the small room in the funky freshless home where I reside with mindless men.”

“You can just stay here!”

“I could. It would be a nice, safe existence. My links slowly chained to you and the home and other accumulations. I would be comfortable, secure and become scenery, like most everyone else. I know this, I've been there before, and in the back of my mind I would keep trying to recreate the perfect, unexpected night we had last night, but that will not happen because we will become comfortable with one another and become petty and easily put off, and your strongest weapon becomes disinterest. I know where this is headed and I will not return to the comfort of life less lived.”

“You'd rather stay in that stinky house with those sweaty guys being disgusting than just staying with me for a little while before you leave?”

“Well, the truth is I would rather enjoy your sweet stickiness, but I know it will turn you into stale, ill wrapped candy and me into a lump of soft dough. So the appropriate answer is, 'I prefer the unknown to the known; adventure and suffering to security; life to existence.”

“You're such an ass.”

“Thank you, I've been working out...”

It was time to leave, to find the edge of sweet cravings and the contempt of where I have found myself, knowing it is preferable to the comfort of the sweet, softening IV drip of the sure thing.

When life is too good, we forget what it feels like to be alive.