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I believe it was Thomas Henry Huxley who said:
The great tragedy of Science -- the slaying of a beautiful hypothesis by an ugly fact
often restated as:
Another beautiful theory done in by a brutal gang of facts.

This is exactly the problem I'm facing with my thesis. I have these grand theories and hypotheses but am finding hard facts with which to test them very hard to produce...

This is particularly hard since my supervisors appear to be travelling in tag-team---never all in the country long enough to all get together for a meeting.

Still, I've hurriedly coding my latest ideas so I have something to present before the next department (next friday). This explains the descreaced noding of late.

97 years ago today, on a Thursday, in the Ringsend district of Dublin, James Joyce, Irish author of the titanic novels Ulysses and Finnegans Wake, first went walking with Nora Barnacle, the woman who was to become his wife.

Joyce memorialized the occasion by setting the action of Ulysses, his retelling of Homer's The Odyssey, completely within the hours of June 16, 1904.

Twenty years later, on June 27, 1924, in a letter written to his patron and friend, Harriet Shaw Weaver, Joyce mentioned:

"...a group of people who observe what they call Bloom's day--16 June. They sent me hortensias, white and blue, dyed."
White and blue are the colors of the Greek flag and Joyce chose them for the cover of the first edition of Ulysses (which was published in paperback, believe it or not).

Bloomsday is today an international celebration. Ulysses is often read aloud in one great auditory rush (it can be done); Guinness is consumed in vast quantities; and, often as not, heads are scratched in confusion and wonderment.

And Spring's perpetual return to Summer and fecundity are celebrated by one and all.


Shades of Joyce:

a nice cool glass of Joyce
Anna Livia Plurabelle
Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell
Finnegans Wake
Finn MacCool
Garry Owen
HCE
Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker
Issy the Teenage Rainbow
June 16, 2001
Lucia Joyce
Mina Purefoy
Our Exagmination Round His Factification for Incamination of Work in Progress
riverrun
Shaun
Shem the Penman
Ulysses is not pornography
Volta Cinema

We all face trials. It's an eventuality that we cannot escape. I have endured patience, compassion, friendship, love, faith and many other spiritual trials and tests in my past. The last trial, aside from parenthood and couplehood, which are not things that I am ready for now, is detachment. I have longed to be detached from the world so that I can fasten my hold and grip on the hem of the robe of God. For years it has been my ardent and true desire to embrace detachment, nevermind the oxymoron in that statement.

You represent that final test, that trial of detachment. Now that I appreciate and realize this, I shall do my outright best not to fail; instead I will behave with deportment and dignity, not foolishness and jealousy. That is my only hope of passing this test, of passing you from my heart.

I kept it no secret, when I met you, that you are attractive to me in every way imaginable. Actually, I was rather up front about that- though not eager, merely appreciative of your complete beauty. I was so stunned and amazed by your presence that it stayed with me like a wafting perfume, lingering in my soul and mind like the most pleasant fragrance on Earth. So astonished by your all-consuming beauty was I that I spoke highly of you to the closest of my friends, my best friends. And even the best of my friends, a man whom I care for deeply and cherish as a brother, was overjoyed to see me with a glimmer of hope in my heart.

A week later, he met you and all was lost. He was equally enamored with your beauty and took his impression a step further, getting it in his head that you were manna from Heaven, put in his path by God.

I can contend with many things, but the kind of belief my best friend has in regards to you, I cannot even hold a candle to. I am not an aggressive man. I am not forceful or charismatic to the degree that he is. I am not the kind of angst spirit that he is, interesting and fragile and hopeless and afraid and in need of care and love. I am complete, independent, unfettered, faithful, strong, honest, kind and sincere. He is none of these things, at least not on a consistent basis. He is neither steadfast nor tame. He is more interesting than I. You have said so with your actions, with your late-night strolls alongside him, with your intimate conversations, with your ardor and praise. I am forgotten and he is always on your mind, even at the center of your schedule. I am a pleasant memory of a kind man with a kind heart and kind words, but utterly boring in comparison to my best friend.

He has stated, clearly, his intention to pursue you, regardless of the knowledge that you and I, when we met, were developing our own relationship. He is heedless and careless and thoughtless of nothing else but his own selfish desires. I understand this; you are worth a thousand deaths to pursue, beauty incarnate. I cannot blame his desire. I blame only his belief that my suffering is a worthwhile price to pay for his temporary lust-filled fantasies. I blame his greed and his blindness to my agony at this hateful choice. I would rather look at a rock than see my best friend. I would rather share the company of a murderer than that of my closest friend.

And I blame your lack of vision, your lack of maturity, your desire to embrace everything too quickly, your youthful invulnerability and your own blindness. I would rather love the sky than see you dote over a man that will ultimately harm you in ways you've never been hurt.

And, so, I am removing myself from your presence, the two of you. I find jealousy and rage to be repugnant and distasteful and undignified. I find this experience to be a prime opportunity to learn detachment- because I want you so badly, I want to tell you these things so much, that it hurts. I must put you out of my mind and rely on my faith in your strength. He will hurt you, and you will learn from it and there is nothing I can do about it because you don't know yet what lies the human heart is capable of telling itself. I am gone.

I am gone.

Call me when it's over. Perhaps, then, I can tell you the things I've always wanted to say.

Living in a sinking submarine may be shit, but now I have fuzzy bunny slippers and not a one of you can stop me from smiling.

Welcome to Tedd and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day, not an Infocom game. Really. Do you need instructions?

> y

Too bad. There aren't any. Life's tough, huh?

Your Bedroom

You wake up to a dark room. It seems to be either very late or very early. You feel like somebody's been playing an XFL doubleheader all over your body. Your left ear is over-pressurized, most likely signifying an ear infection. You are baking like banana bread in your covers. You need very much to urinate soon.

> n

How can you move when you're all wrapped up in your covers?

You need very much to urinate soon.

> get out

Of what?

> get out of bed

Ow! Crunch! You hope whatever that was wasn't important, even if it did hurt.

Warrior needs to urinate... badly. We mean it.

> n

Tiny Hallway

It's dark here, but, if all is right and well with the world (which it isn't), you know that your living room is to the east, your bedroom is to the south, and your bathroom is to the west.

Honestly, though, before you go anywhere else, you should really pee.

> w

Bathroom

What's with all these dark rooms? You hope there's still a toilet here.

> use toilet

You have added five points to your score.

Ah. Much better. While leaning your hand against the wall to balance yourself, you inadvertantly flip the light switch.

Bathroom

God, this place is a mess. Comic books are on the back of the toilet, towels are tossed willy-nilly, and, though the odor here isn't one typically found in bathrooms, it certainly is quite the stench.

On the whole, though, it has all the usual fixtures (a sink, a shower / bath, and a toilet), and all in working order, no less.

Also, you notice thanks to the light that you are quite naked. Luckily there is a bathrobe here.

> get bathrobe

Bathrobe taken.

> wear bathrobe

You have added five points to your score.

You notice a lump. Luckily it's in your pocket and not on your person.

> i

Inventory:
In bathrobe:

bottle Roxicet
bottle generic antibiotics
Dul-X Recovery Bath salts
used kleenex
rope

> empty pockets

Emptied.

> draw bath

I'm sorry, but your Harvard Education is showing again. Could you dumb that down for me, your highness?

> use bath

Hot water comes pouring out. The tub should fill up any day now.

> z

Time passes.

> z

Time passes.

> z

Time passes.

> z

Time passes. Okay, Captain Nemo, it looks like your bath is full.

> use bath salts

Brilliant, Einstein. You gonna eat those or what?

> use bath salts in bath

The bath now smells like a hospital. That was the desired effect, wasn't it?

> enter bath

You have added five points to your score.

Calgon, take me away! For the time being, you forget that your back feels like a percussion section after Tito Puente night. You even remembered to take off your bathrobe before getting in the bath! Your dear sweet mother would be so proud, moron.

Time passes.

The water eventually gets murky and cold. You unplug the drain and feel like you can finally get some sleep.

> e

Tiny Hallway

It's dark here, but, if all is right and well with the world (which it isn't), you know that your living room is to the east, your bedroom is to the south, and your bathroom is to the west.

> s

Your Bedroom

Who knows what dangers lurk in the heart of this room?

> enter bed

You crawl back into bed. Your back still hurts like hell. It will be impossible to get to sleep.

> i

Inventory:

bottle of Roxicet
bottle of generic antibiotics
used kleenex
rope

> open Roxicet

You see six magic little pills.

> i

Inventory:

Roxicet (6)
bottle of generic antibiotics
used kleenex
rope

> use Roxicet

Suddenly all your pain is gone. The ceiling paints itself in hypnotic swirls. Stars dance in the sky above. All is calm and painless.

Time passes.

When you finally awake after a blissful ten-hour-long slumber (the song Lazybones comes to mind), you realize it is light. Day. That which you've spent your entire life avoiding. As such, you have died.

Your score is 15 out of a possible 23005, earning you a rank of Grue Food.

Would you like to (S)tart over, (R)estore, or (Quit)?

> r

I'm sorry, but your Harvard Education is showing again. Could you dumb that down for me, your highness?

> q

I'm sorry, but your Harvard Education is showing again. Could you dumb that down for me, your highness?

> s

You can't go south. You're dead. Really. We wouldn't lie to you.

> l

You can't look. You're dead. Or faking it really well.

> z

Time passes.

After a few minutes you realize you are, much to your disappointment, still rather on the alive side of things. That doesn't mean you want to leap out of bed any time soon.

> get out of bed

Your Bedroom

You actually sleep here? Christ, man. There's dirty clothes everywhere, a spare assortment of posters on the walls, and a small family of rodents roasting chesnuts in the corner. Not really, but this place seriously is a sty. Luckily there's an exit: to the north.

In the harsh light of day, you realize the unavoidable object you crushed last night was your limited edition signed Hulk Hogan Hummel figurine. A moment of silence please.

> n

Tiny Hallway

Much lighter now, thanks to that blasted sun, you can make out faint wet spots on the floor. You really had to go last night, didn't you?

There are exits to the west, south, and east.

> e

Living Room

Home sweet garbage dump. You really know how to keep a house, duder. There are piles of compact discs everywhere, bookshelves full of movies, tables with books piled atop, and a damned ugly chair to match the lovely too-comfy-sofa-and-love-seat set. There is a TV here and an old Young Ones cassette in the VCR.

There are exits leading to the office (south), outside (east), to the hallway (west), and to the kitchen (northwest).

You see a pair of pants here and a set of keys.

> get pants

Pants taken.

> get keys

Keys taken. Your mailbox key calls to you for some reason.

Your ear buzzes a bit to remind you that antibiotics are a good thing in your case.

> consume generic antibiotics

You have added ten points to your score.

You feel much better. Placebo effect works wonders.

> wear pants

You shed your bathrobe and put on some goddamn pants. The world joins in on a Halleujah chorus.

> nw

Kitchen

It's not so much a kitchen as it is "the part of your living room where you cook and consume food". There is an island, part of the "thoroughly modern kitchen suite" that all the kids are crazy about this year, except it's covered with more random books, letters, past due bills, and the like. There's also a stove, which you are vaguely familiar with the operation of, and a microwave with which you are intimately familiar (hubba hubba!).

There are exits to the west (and the stairwell outside your apartment) and the southeast (and your living room) here. Memorize these in case of water landing.

There are some multivitamins here. There is a large pot here. There is a t-shirt here.

> get multibitamins

Sorry, Helen Keller, but I don't see any 'multibitamins' here.

> get multivitamins

Multivitamins taken.

> eat multivitamins

You have added five points to your score.

Breakfast of champions. You feel like you can almost face the day now.

> get pot

Pot taken.

> get t-shirt

T-shirt taken.

> wear t-shirt

The world is now well informed of your No Fat Chicks policy.

> w

Stairwell.

Not many places to go here: either east to your apartment, west to the non-stop coed party flat, or downstairs.

There is a mountain bike here.

> get bike

Right. Where are you going to put it, down your pants? Let's leave that alone for now, shall we?

> d

Downstairs

The insidious rays of the Satanic Death Orb shine through the door to that dreaded place known from legends as "The Outside World". Many have attempted to conquer this realm: all have either died or ended up working for AOL-Time Warner-Microsoft-General Motors-Mobil-Omnicorp-CompuGlobalHyperMegaNet, "the people company", a division of YugoStarbucks Inc.

Which is worse we cannot say.

There are exits up and north.

> n

Outside

Curse you, foul sun! As you are blinded by the rays of the sun, you simultaneously realize you could burst into flames faster than a protesting Buddhist if you stay out here for too long. Hope you know your way around, bucko.

> w

Outside

All is white. You can see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing, and feel nothing.

> s

Outside

All is white. You can see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing, and feel nothing.

> s

Outside

All is white. You can see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing, and feel nothing.

> s

Outside

All is white. You can see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing, and feel nothing.

You stub your toe on something vaguely mailbox like.

> unlock mailbox with mailbox key

You unlock your mailbox and get your (most likely bad) news and (in all chances uneventful) letters.

Your brain feels like microwave popcorn, and someone just hit the popcorn button.

> n

Outside

All is white. You can see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing, and feel nothing.

> n

Outside

All is white. You can see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing, and feel nothing.

> n

Outside

All is white. You can see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing, and feel nothing.

> e

Outside

All is white. You can see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing, and feel nothing.

> s

Downstairs

Ah, blessed A/C. Truly this gift is one that could never betray mankind.

> u

Stairwell

> e

Kitchen

Upon entering your apartment, you hear a dripping sound, like rain or your dad in the Macy's changing room. It seems to be coming from the southeast.

> se

Living Room

The dripping sound now seems to be coming from the west.

> w

Tiny Hallway

You can hear that there now seems to be a thunderstorm localized entirely within your bedroom to the south.

> s

Bedroom

Hey, how nice! Your landlady apparently relocated your shower to the bedroom! Think of the convenience! I hope she doesn't charge you extra for this.

More than likely what happened, though, was your central A/C system finally got tired of man's hubris and decided to take it out on you. Hope you got good mail.

> n

Hey, ace, how about doin' something about this goddamn leak! I know you're not leaving to go get materials for an ark.

> place pot under leak

You have added twenty points to your score.

Now the carpet won't be ruined. It's a start at least.

> i

Inventory:

Roxicet (5)
bottle of generic antibiotics
used kleenex
rope
pants (worn)
keys
mail

> examine mail

Aside from the usual "lose weight quick" offers and Radio Shack catalogues, you find two items of interest: a letter from your sultry internet lover and a bank notice.

> examine bank notice

DEAR SIR OR MADAME:

YOUR CHECK, MEMO FIELD "RENT" WAS RETURNED FOR THE FOLLOWING REASONS: INSUFFICIENT FUNDS, WE'RE MALICIOUS FASCIST BASTARDS HA HA HA.
Fuck.

> examine letter

To keep it short, you've been dumped for a fountain pen. Don't worry: at least both of your hands can still grip and yank.

> cry

You have added five points to your score.

There there. Let it all out. I bet your computer still loves you. Or does it?

> n

Tiny Hallway

> e

Living Room

> s

Office

Here your computer glows like the happy robot it is. There are also various instruments gathering dust throughout the room.

> use computer

You have added five points to your score.

WINDOWS ZORK, TEXT BASED GUI

"Where do we want you to go today?"

Select an option:
• (E)verything2
• (F)reecell
• (M)inesweeper
• (Q)uit
> E

Everything2

Ah, Everything2. The alpha and the omega of the Internet experience. Between the five minute page loads and the sophisticated intellectual discourses, why would anyone want to go elsewhere?

Hey, look! Here's a new writeup in one of your favorite GTKY nodes! Let's downvote it!

Time passes.

Time passes.

Time passes.

Time passes.

Time passes.

Time passes.

Time passes.

Time passes.

Time passes.

Time passes.

Something in the cheddarbox catches your eye. It is a message from your other lusty internet lover telling you to open your front door. Visions of saran wrap and sugarplums dance in your head.

> Q

You shut off your computer. It sings a remorseful verse of "Daisy" and goes quiet.

> n

Living Room

A cadre of trained monkeys juggling kittens and knives holds court atop your television set. You'll get to them later.

> nw

Kitchen

The stove is on fire. You have more important things to attend to.

> w

Stairwell

You open your front door to find a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers staring at you. Despite the fact that your day has been an uninteresting mass of stupidity causing you to question your constant desire for immortality, the fuzzy bunny slippers warm your heart and cause you to melt into a pile of goo.

You are Smitten.

Game over. ideath wins. You have scored 70 out of 23005 points, earning you the rank of Supsuckafrog.

Would you like to (S)tart over, (R)estore, or (Quit)?

> _




(at least half of these things are true. at least.)

wow....the world is quiet at three am, even here. days like this one, this very very long one, cannot finish without me unwinding, like a backwards spring-thing. i need to talk to someone, anyone, but right now i can't deal with strangers. so into the daylog i march...maybe i just haven't noded in much too long, yeah, that's it..

got home from work, ten minutes ago, yes i work late..got home from other work before that...no, wait, that's a lie...the boy i have a crush on drove me home, and we stopped for food...that took awhile, was almost datelike...(i can pretend)...nevermind that me and he had stayed up until much later than this the night before this one, talking about life, the universe and everything...

long week, this one was, including root canals, ice cream cake, tarot cards, wee hour bedtimes and wee hour wakeup calls, dangerous windy canoeing, and letting the boy i have a crush on read my poetry...(that last bit is more impressive than it sounds, i am quite terrified to show anyone my stuff, especially in the still wet ink, first draft state that these three particular poems were in)...

something is wrong with me. everything i eat makes me sick, i have no use for sleep anymore. i sing. i smile. i run around darkened gymnasiums in my bare feet and listen to the echo...i'm a little worried i might be happy. shh! don't tell anyone...

Seattle Mariners first baseman John Olerud "hit for the cycle" for the second time in his career today, against the San Diego Padres. The Mariners beat the Padres 9-2.

Hitting for the cycle consists of a single, double, triple and home run hit by a single player in a game. Olerud is the third Mariner in team history to hit for the cycle. This rare baseball feat was previously accomplished by Mariners Jay Buhner on June 23, 1993 and Alex Rodriguez on June 5, 1997.

Olerud's previous hit for the cycle was achieved when he played for the New York Mets, on September 11, 1997 against the Montreal Expos. The Mets won 9-5.

Almost six weeks. I want to go home

I sit outside of the ladies room on a slab of concrete looking at the Utah sky. I’ve never really seen the milky way before…at least not as the person that I am now. The cherry from my cigarette gives the night sky competition. So does the red butte that looms over the campground.

I need a beer. Beer stops the nightmares and I…I am tired of the nightmares.

So I head for the campsite. There are two people awake when I take my first beer from the cooler. A professor and a female student drinking and conversing with eachother. Mind you, both are older than me. The student is married, the prof is twiced divorced. I sit and listen to them talk. They ask questions and listen to answers. Talk of polar bears and sea lions. Polar bears are not nice. Sea lions are, unless they feel threatened.

The woman stands up and commences to stub her toe on the picnic table. Her cries of pain dissolve the conversation. I take another swig of beer. She asks him to walk her to her tent which is at another campsite. They leave and do not come back. They end up sitting at another table just 50 yards away where I can hear their drifting conversation and laughter.

Do I offend?

They are…

I hope this doesn’t affect my performance in the class.

They really are…

It’s not me, it's them. They want to be ALONE together.

They are polar bears. I am a sea lion.


Looking back, the beer didn’t help at all that evening.
He’s doing it again tonight, this will be the third time this month, basically every week. I don’t understand why? I think he knows how I feel and his only excuse is that everybody else does it and its normal behaviour. What I don’t understand is, why just because its considered ‘normal’ that it means its also acceptable and okay. Normal by definition is relative, what is normal is relative to the behaviour of the majority of people you are surrounded by. In America it is ‘normal’ for gang members to kill others not of the same colours as them, does this make it right? Just because its ‘normal’? what a typical excuse by a sheep. Perhaps I am no better in behaving in ways purposefully opposite to the norm, feeling outcast and being out of the norm is better than feeling pathetic and being in the norm though.

I feel that it is such a waste of life when people have potential to easily change their position in life for the better whether that be in love, work, status, education etc. but don’t. It’s like when people have a high IQ but don’t use it. It is such a pathetic waste of life and I can’t stand to see it

I don’t know what to do, every time he tells me ‘I’m getting drunk’ I feel a pain, a sick bad pain in my stomach, and that’s not good, I feel like crying, I am crying (the ink has smudged) I don’t know how much of this behaviour I can take. I wonder why he does it and I know there is nothing I can do about it, knowing I’ll continue feeling this discomfort, should I even say anything, should I just forget about it, it seems only I have a problem, I don’t want to cause any problems, its not everyday that I meet the best guy in the world. Should I be the annoying girlfriend who tries to control and change people and make an issue out this, force him to speak, should I just give this journal entry, I want to let him know what’s going on in my mind somehow. I get into a weird phrase when he isn’t around and I’m at home alone while he is getting drunk and having a good time. I’ll have to make new friends other than his friends otherwise when we break up I’ll have no one left. I always doubt us, at times like this, I just feel like not going near anyone, and if I’m around him all we do is bonk. I need to see a psychologist. I wish I didn’t miss him so much. I think I need or should be alone but I don’t want to be, I don’t know, I think I know I don’t want to see him or especially hear about his drunken times, that he can remember. I know that this used to bother me before, but not like this, I’ve never felt sick like this, I guess I’ve also never thought I’d have to live or bear to be near him, before I would just not see him for ages and that would be okay. Also I never knew the extent of the problem, text book definitions make it clearer what constitutes an abuse problem, something I didn’t know before. I don’t think he could change, it would be too difficult to be surrounded by people and being the only one inferior to the rest, I know that feeling all too often and I’d prefer to not be surrounded by such people because I don’t have the strength to stay.

I don’t want him to change, but then, I don’t know how much I can tolerate. I asked him for his rationalisations that he gives himself for all his decisions past and present, he hasn’t answered, nor spoken, yet, though I doubt he will.

I feel like its just me, my stance against the world, I wish I could meet more people like me, perhaps it is me who should change but I doubt I could accept nor like myself if I did.

TRUE STORY June2001 Manila, Philippines I just got out of a very sordid affair January of that year. Broke, unemployed for about five months, and with two daughters who are about to start school; I hit rock bottom holding a shovel. My wife never knew about the affair. Neither does she go to this website. With tuition due (School here starts June), bills to pay, and let alone a very broken spirit, I was close to acknowledging that I was in deep doo doo. People tell me that I'm psychic. They come to me asking what the future lies for them, personal problems, career problems, even lost objects. I always take it with a grain of sand. I always attribute my readings to common sense, a lucky streak, and even psychoanalysis. Don't get me wrong, I do believe I'm psychic but I just don't go out and tell the world. Most people find out about me from other people. Word of mouth, actually. Plus, I don't charge anything. Anyway, there I was broke and somewhat desolate living in a third world country. One night, the 16th of June, I woke up at around 3am. Can't really sleep since I have to come up with some cash before the end of June or else all hell will go willy nilly. That night (morning?), I just got fed up with everything and said to myself, "If I'm psychic, then why can't I get the numbers on the lotto draws!". I got myself a pen and paper and started scribbling down numbers. First I put in all three lotto draws; the 6/42, the 6/45, and the 6/49. My psychic vibe told me to concentrate on the 6/45. I therefore wrote down 6 rows of numbers from 1 to 45. On each row, I concentrated on the numbers one by one. I did each row three times. It was already about 6am when I was in the last row. That day, a Sunday, I went out with my kids to the mall so they could just run around and play. I told my wife I was going to buy a lotto ticket. At the booth, I copied the numbers onto the lotto ticket. The draw was for Monday night. I suddenly had the urge to pay for the Wednesday draw also, which I did. That Monday night, I watched the lotto draw, I got nothing. "So much for my psychic powers.." I thought to myself. That Wednesday, I again took out the ticket and sat down on the couch. I remember my kids were on the floor coloring a Little Mermaid book, while my wife sat on my right reading a magazine. The first ball came out and it was a 10. I had a ten on the ticket. The second ball was a 25, the third was a 5. I had both numbers too. On the fourth ball, it came out 32. I had a 32 and the room started swirling all around me. I looked at my wife and showed her the ticket. She dropped the magazine and watched the draw. The fifth number was a 26. I slowly looked at the ticket. I didn't have a 26. Knowing that luck sometimes is about timing, placement and positioning, I went back to my end of the couch still glued to the set. The sixth ball was a 31 which I also had. I got 5 numbers out of 6. I had enough cash to pull me through that month and upto the next month. Relief and joy started to creep in. I was saved! By August, I found a stable job and have been quite succesful there too. I stopped looking at other women, been faithful to my wife ever since, and I have two daughters both top students in their class. Life again was normal. One thing though... I got just enough to pull me through. If there is a God, why didn't he just give me everything? Did my telling my wife about the four numbers prematurely jinxed the fifth number? Was it my psychic powers? I don't know but up to this day, I could not replicate what I had done that day...God knows how many times I get up at three am and start writing down numbers!

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