Everytime I see tattoos I hear myself calling: that's for life you know!
Is there anybody left without them?
When I looked into tattoos it was for research on Maoris 20 years ago, and nobody had them unless you were a sailor (... oh.. I hope not..... hm... mumbling.... know this sailor now and I don't even know if he owns a tie, let alone what he's got all over his body. To keep things a little quiet around here, I've made a hard and fast deal with myself: no new friends who have tattoos. Somebody has got to start discriminating against them!)

I woke up after a full 4 hour's sleep with a "chess game" in my head. Not so literally. And not with anyone on steemit. Much closer to home. I should know my son inside out by now. When I say, "I made him"I have to take more credit than with most mother-sons. And read a huge sneer to self here. But how else could I make him safer in this world. There's a ton of programme in there for a lack of own commitment to life, that IS Autism. Most of it, the GOoD stuff he's taken to save the likes of the Bat. The rest is still stuck in the System, to which I had to return him. That's when I stepped back at a hurried safe distance before it would blow. Smithereens I can deal with, the System that swallows you whole I cannot. The System is not fair. And it has massive delays which allows for cracks into which very slithery things can slip. And they all know where the best feeding grounds are.

The 17th move ahead would deliver him back to where we left off. From there we could as still sluice him to the vantage point, which only becomes available as an when (you can only control what your opponent does to an extent).

He came back to put his foot in the door. He's not going nowhere, we all know that. He knows the System can't deliver: I put that programme in there, we fly solo as far as that goes. But with my money tap closed to prevent vampirism, he's forced to find money elsewhere and will use his handicap very smartly to get his dues from the System. He has learned from the best. But he didn't understand the game. He doesn't understand the laws of Karma, the ethics of sound business. I can tell from how he is applying his savvy business sense at a level that is dangerous for him. He can't read what's going on, and at that petty level the crime is more personal.

And so we give a kid our best and the System efs up the rest!
That foot in the door, I woke up suddenly seeing is a massive Energy Bomb. In walks Bud, alright. It's not HIM that walks in. It's a Higher Self, who knows better and doesn't want me to forget our contract. As if I would. But Higher Selves don't play such a great game of chess. Too pure and innocent.... meh,.... too little sense of timing.

Would it that I had a strictly personal, social, family relationship with my son it would be just another "good day"with a visit from a son not yet on her dope or meds or her B-gay-FF - equally certified a screw up (she is always going to be closer to him, whom she has known all her life than my son. They are playing him all the time, just for fun).

I almost got suckered in again. The love just couldn't stop itself anymore. I've had to pretend for more than a year now: holding out for a tipping point when the cold would suddenly be noticeable to him. But no luck. It only gave me frostbite. I must be a pretty good code writer. He doesn't doubt his inner strength. He feels safe as long as I am exclusively his. Emphasis on exclusive. Emphasis on his direct line out to whatever my Higher Self is doing.

Multi-dimensional chess I heard someone say the other day. Maybe I should find a YouTube video on that and learn a trick or two from the game proper.

Does anybody use night vision during the day? I think I got that part wrong, we are not supposed to, perhaps. Is that unethical business in a world beset by the Beast?

Does anyone know the 22nd move ahead and how to get there patiently by moving around this chess board?

Why do they give you a slip which says where you are supposed to find yourselves at the End, Gate No. so-and-so but keep moving the Gate up a notch?! Distances are deceptive this far out at sea. I feel like becoming a dervish, to travel the distance spinning. Tired of our chess board: who decided it had to be square? It is round, and round and round... Or is that just sleep deprivation!

I love how your daughter is another branch out on our moral support to them all, coming for her point of support contact through the phone. Proffers hope.