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   Samson | Diary
During the 40 days and 40 nights of the Ark's voyage, our 12 crew members will be recording their thoughts and feelings about their Arkmates, the tasks and crises they'll be facing, and the dreadful prospect of walking the plank before the Ark reaches Mt Ararat. For Samson's Diary, read on... and click the "comments" links to add your own comments to any of his diary entries.
My Hat Is Off to Joseph - Or would be if I wore one. May 23, 13:38
I scouted around in the Study this morning and found three or four books about mental illness, dreams, and such things. One was a Freud - - it had been tucked into the back of the shelf behind the large Bible I usually read on my lap when I need 1) distraction and 2) camouflage for --

Ah, never mind.

I wonder who hid it there, when Esther and John were tossing them overboard? Did Joseph tuck it in there before he left?

I can understand why people seized by dreams might also think they're going mad. I still see the Brown-Eyed Woman, as clearly as if she really had visited me in the night. If Joseph's dreams were that startling -- if his had the same sort of real effects on the body and emotions - Well, my hat is off to Joseph. He must be made of stern stuff indeed to bear up under it.

Why didn't the Lady resemble Martha at all? Am I resenting Martha for refusing to even consider me as a spouse? I don't know why I should - she's a free woman - and it's her loss. <grin>

Just because I've never been refused before, whatever my offer -- that's no reason to get irritable about her rejection.


I am faithful to Yahweh. I am, believe it or not, Diary, faithful to any woman lucky enough to have me. I am, by the standards of my people anyway, an absolutely stunning man to look at. I am repsected in Israel and feared by the Philistines. At least by the farmers and devotees of Dagon, and the PETF (Philistines for the Ethical Treatment of Foxes). Heh heh heh.

There is no lack in me, other than an occasional clumsiness about using the gifts God has given me -- and those things, it's His fault I have them to juggle! So, it's time to stop all the inner wranglings and self-doubt.


Oh! Diary! I had forgotten the Planking today! I'm not even sure how I feel about that or why I keep forgetting it.

There's so much to finish here - - Jezebel appears to be going slowly bonkers. She may need watching - is there anyone besides me to control her when she goes off? If Paul or John WOULD do it -- COULD they?

Esther was so sweet to me yesterday, patting my knee like that when I was Nominated. I wanted to pat hers... but I figured she might take it the wrong way. If I had it to do over again I'd forget the second-guessing and just pat away. Will the others remember that Queens need consolation, too, if I go today?

The more I think about it, the more Johnny and Paulie seem to be merging into each other. Sometimes when I hear them before seeing them, I get them confused. If it weren't for the odor of honey on John and the odor of greasepaint still on Paul, I might get them mixed up altogether. <chuckle>

They both appear to be squashing down their individual fires and "par-tay-ing" their heads off. I'd love to stick around a while longer and try to figure them out. Who knows? Maybe THEY will need watching and restraining, the way Jezebel may.

And Martha... She won't have me. Why do I feel as if I cheated on her last night? It was only a dream, and she wouldn't particularly care if it HAD been real... Would she?

I feel as if I ought to lie back down...May 23, 4:25
It's not quite dawn- perhaps I might find that dream woman again.

She certainly liked me better than any living woman I've seen since the Passover. <satisfied grin>

I think everyone wants to be wanted, and needed and loved. I'm no different.

Just once I'd love to find a woman who enjoys being fought for and walked with and, well... loved. Just loved. Someone, somewhere, must want to be loved by a man who also loves Yahweh.

Imagine, a woman in a dream reminding me that I'm worth loving, too.
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Dreams at 3 a.m.May 23, 4:01
I went upstairs before anyone else. I climbed into my favorite bed, the kingsize by the door of the Blue Bedroom. (Martha says all the blue brings out the highlights in my hair. A compliment sure gets my attention.)

Martha came up, as is her habit, and got into her bed. 'Goodnights' were said. Her breathing began to slow into sleep... and I was driven out of the room as surely as if demons with whips were following me. Dozens of sexy succubi wearing blue denim jumpers...

I'd had 43 cold showers already yesterday, so I went downstairs, back to the pool. More laps. A very little swimming - I was cool again - And I fell asleep on a deck chair. Jezebel was talking with Gabe about giraffe heads or something.

No one bothered me - I slept all night out by the pool, dreaming such a real dream... And here we are at almost 4 a.m., almost dawn, of what may be my last day here. And I'm only just now rememebring that I'm up for a vote - that dream was amazing. It has hold of me yet.

There was a woman - Hers were the deepest, most compelling brown eyes, with the longest, thickest eyelashes I've ever seen. She wore a striking suit of black and white. For some reason I remember her breath - so sweet, honeyed it was. As if she'd been picking pretty white clover blossoms and idly running them between her full, pink lips... what beautiful, straight teeth.

She spoke, but who understands things said in dreams? "Drink the Whole Stein," she said. "It's from Jersey."

And the things she did to my body -!!! I had a nasty tense knot in my left pectoral muscle when I fell asleep - and it's not there any more!

Do 40-year-old Judges blush any more? This one does. I feel my face heating up right now and the sun's not even coming over the rail yet.

I can't leave this alone. I hope Esther and Johnny didn't throw ALL the Freud books overboard... I need to get to the Study. I have GOT to find out what this means.

And I've also got to NOT mourn that I haven't found a bride on this cruise. If all I ever have is a dream like that Lady - that's almost enough.
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Identical Arkmates?May 22, 21:31
One thing this round of Nominations has made me curious about...

Queens Esther and Jezebel, sisters under the skin anyway, now even more joined at the hip due to their fun new fight moves... When it comes time to consider nominating one of them, how do you pick? Are they becoming more and more interchangeable?

And Paul and John. Different as night and day before. In some ways as different as Paul and Pete were. Now, with John "lightening up" and Paul "loosening up", how does one pick one?

It's as if the two sets, the boys and girls, are just that. Sets.

It's as if Martha and I are the only originals left on the Ark.
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Just A Looser Walk With Thee?May 22, 19:36
Paul has really unwound the springs this past couple of days. I wonder that the other New Book people even recognize him any more. (Doesn't bother me - I think we need as much fun as we can cram in around here.)

Does that mean he won't be hovering over a sleeping Jezebel anymore?
One less thing for me to try to fix - and one less thing to make me feel like a hypocrite, since I was doing a bit of hovering myself, over Martha.

Unless you count the 'hovering-over' when I'd bend down to pick Jez up and carry her to bed. Haven't needed to do that too often any more either. Perhaps Jez has settled something in her mind and no longer needs to push herself until she drops, where she stands, from exhaustion.

That's one thing you can say for Martha. She ALWAYS goes up to HER BED (more's the pity - <grin>) when the evening is done. I don't think I've ever been awake in the night and seen her anywhere else.

Esther has brightened up, since Yahweh has seen to it that we each develop a unique skill. (Perhaps that's what's done it for Jez too.) Diary, do you think, when the next nominations roll around, that Esther might accept things in a cooler, more Queenly fashion, since now she's got her levitation to keep her focused?

I was worried for a bit about poor Johnny going off the deep end. Then he lightened up - he said because we sang to him, Es and Jez and I. Heck, if I'd known that was all he needed - to know we love him - I'd have been warbling at him for a couple of weeks now.


Better watch how much I sing. My voice is likely a Plankable Offense.
I doubt the Ark needs a foghorn.

I never liked these Nominations. It doesn't matter that we knew what we were getting into! They still hurt. The Crow's Nest/Nominations process is hurting me worse now than the actual Plankings, I think.

How am I supposed to - - What POSSIBLE reason can I give Yahweh? And for which two of these people? I love them all so much!

Well, I suppose it's pretty easy where Martha's concerned. To love, I mean, not to come up with reasons to Nominate!
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Cranes? Egrets?May 22, 14:10
I finally realized what looked so familiar about Jez and Esther doing their fight scene.

It looked like one of those dances the leggy birds to in the mating season. Very graceful indeed. Violence masked by life.


Mating dances.... Yahweh, does EVERYTHING I think about have to come back to sex?

Off to the showers again, Stud.
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idle morbid wondering...May 22, 11:37
You know, Diary, I wonder sometimes if she'll ever even really kiss me? Before I walk, or (Heaven forbid) she does.

Well, I've kissed her, but that doesn't count. Me being driven to a tender sort of brotherly kiss on her forehead as she slept is NOT the same thing.

play postscriptMay 22, 5:56
I have never laughed so hard as I did last night. Especially at Paul as Juliet and Martha as Romeo. There I was all worried about how I'd react... when the time came, I was doubled over choking back howls of laughter! God had to shush me more than once.

I'm sorry, Yahweh.
Isn't it better than contemplating murder, though, Sir?
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Tough Nipples 2 !May 22, 5:51
Diary, I'm sorry I dropped you. There, I've apologized, will you please record correctly now?

I went to all the bother of explaining myself - how Nurse really does reminisce about rubbing wormwood on her nipples to get the toddler Juliet to quit nursing - and about how Amma raised me to say "breasts" and "nipples", rather than "dugs" as Willie Shakespeare did - and how I was sure no one cared or even noticed when I said "nipples" 'cause I have found I'm such a bad, wooden actor, who would be watching me?

Don't tell me you're going to lose this installment, too. I don't want to say it all again.

Except for the part about Martha - that I'll gladly say again!

When we were wrapping up for the evening, saying our goodnights and congratulations for a play well done - Martha and I actually ended up face-to-face in the Blue Bedroom. First chance to talk in days and days.

I thought we were alone, but it turns out Paul was in there with us part of the time, jumping up and down on my old bed, and I never even noticed! I was lost in Martha's eyes, just drowning, and I didn't want a rescue.

I cannot believe there is no reciprocation there. I am not out of my mind. I can see it, I can feel it. My skin vibrates with it when she passes me on the Landing.

We have such a short time left here. I will redouble my prayers. I cannot stop longing for Martha.

No one has ever really died of an unrequited love, have they?
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Martha in Tights... ONLY Tights...May 21, 13:59
I would love to see that.

Come to think of it, I'd like to see this entire crew in tights. I've been running around all this time in football tights, not much different from the kind people wear in this Willie Shakespeare's plays.

Let all of THEM see what it's like. No way to hide one's... interest... when the ladies do something particularly fetching. One stands behind chairs and sofas, one reads big big books on one's lap... Oh, for a nice burnoose.

Don't think I didn't want to be Juliet, Diary. I'm the one who pushed for Martha as Romeo. I didn't think she would stand for it, though, if she had to play opposite me. Even if the part assignments came down as a edict from On High. So, I asked for my favorite part, that of Nurse.

Trouble is, now I've got to stand still and be quiet while Martha and Paul embrace and kiss and Heaven knows what else in that blasted pool.

Johnny was unable to hold still while people tried to wrap up a worship service, an activity that he (at least in principle) supports. How am I going to not growl and pace while Paul --

While Martha --

While they --

Oh, Yahweh, keep a hand on me, please, please Sir, I'll need You tonight. Oh God.
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Oh, Nu-u-u-rse!May 21, 4:04
What a day.

Pete got dumped. He and I managed as close a tete-a-tete as we were ever going to, I guess, in the Study before the Planking. Basically we said to each other, "I never understood you at all, sorry mate." So sad.

Jezebel must be taking seriously what I said at the bar the other night. She's actually aimed a flirty comment or two at me. One could almost believe them, they were so good. I, on the other hand, mean every comment of that sort I ever utter. As I told her, I don't play.

We sat around winding down after all the stress, and came up with an idea... a play.

We're going to do something called "Romeo and Juliet" by some guy named Willie. I get to be The Nurse. I'm off to the Study to read up on this play.

Diary, can't you see me as a Nursemaid? ;)
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Trading My Sorrow for the Joy of the Lord May 20, 12:57
Judges 14:4
"But his father and mother did not know that it was of the LORD that He was seeking an occasion to move against the Philistines. For at that time the Philistines had dominion over Israel."

Was it Moses wrote that down? No matter; I'm just glad someone did. In my darkest hours I have at least been able to grasp that idea -- that God somehow has His hand in everything. Even my rage against the Philistines. Even my desire for exotic women. Even that He has used for His purposes.

Why am I less upset over Paul and Pete facing the plank, than I have been over the others? The women going does rip me up more than the men... Job's going cut me to the quick, I guess because it was the first Planking, and so soon I'd not had the chance to get to know him yet. I think I was one who voted for him, too. Guilty.

When I consider Pete or Paul leaving us, of course it hurts, but it's almost like I'm "all mourned out". I am so tired of mourning... and if anyone is in God's hands, it's these people who have served Him so well.

I am happy again and I want to stay that way. Is that a betrayal of Paul and Pete? I want to have some fun in these last few days.

Who will play with me, when all about me are mourners and dark philosophers?
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Where's the Massage Oil?May 20, 3:31
I'm a prune, I tell ya, a prune. Where's my moisturizer? I've showered and showered and showered, all my natural oils are gone. I'm a dried-up prune.

If I'm not showering so that I can somehow feel cleansed after that nominations process <<shudder>>, I'm jumping into a COLD shower to get my mind off of unattainable women. (Yes, I said "women", not "woman".)

Lust - shower - misdirected passions - shower - betrayal/nomination - shower - more lust - another cold shower. Couldn't jump into the pool for most of our meeting tonight, since we were cooped up during the (bleergh) Nominations... that cool pool is my salvation sometimes.

And it didn't help that Martha had a lie-in today. She lay there, so serene, any time I had reason to enter the Blue Bedroom (and I thought up lots of reasons). I can pretend I've a hope, when she's sleeping, if I'm blessed to be there when she first wakes up. There's that first moment of... unshielded regard? Openness? She looks at me so sweetly then.

Happens less often as time goes on, though, because I've taken the hint from Jezebel about a fellow hanging over a woman trying to sleep. Paul's making Jez crazy with it.

It feels like a simple little stolen pleasure to me, something that hurts no one. But, a watchful man hanging over her bed mightn't make Martha feel "cared for" and "protected" and "loved" and "desired". According to the way Jez speaks of it, Martha may feel more like "stalked" and "spied upon" and "what is UP with this maniac?"

So, I don't do it. Not so often as I used to, anyhow. And I usually don't touch her anymore... I used to love to caress her hair, smooth it back from her forehead... Sometimes she'd forget to take her shoes off, so I'd do that. She has the cutest feet on the Ark.

I went in for a moment before I went to sleep last night, and actually massaged her feet. She says she's not ticklish, and I believe it now. She'd have awakened if so. All that happened was a change in her breathing. I could flatter myself and imagine she dreamed of me... but she was more likely remembering a certain Man who had a habit of washing feet.

No one ever picks you up and plays you back, do they, Diary? I tell you stuff I don't tell Yahweh.


I will be so sorry to see either Paul or Pete go. Sorrier about Paul, but still, there's so much potential for a fun mate in Pete, I'd hate to see him tossed over the side before it's developed. Paulie has his own hopeless passion - I hear him talking in his sleep, so I would know even if he never let on - so I feel a lot of understanding from Paul.

John is still wrestling with himself. I think I hear him now, pacing around. Either that, or an animal is loose and pacing. I told him I'd handle the ferret Houdini. He hadn't even fed him since Maggie... left us. He was terribly thirsty. I don't think I'll nag John about it - there's already enough turmoil inside him to propell the Ark. He doesn't need more guilt. Houdini may enjoy running loose in the Animal Deck with the two ferrets Noah's got down there.


Taken as a whole, the past few days have been a blessing to me. I have re-connected with my faith. I feel once again a part of God's sweeping plan.

Unfortunately, the calming influence of time speaking to Martha, hoping for a chance with Martha, is apparently gone.

Soooo.... Although my spirit is once again a glad, bright thing - praise God! - the flesh now awakens from its peaceful dream. I may as well move into the Bath permanently, for easy continual access to COLD SHOWERS.
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Nominations... ugh. May 19, 21:36
Just when I'd spent most of today floating around on a cloud of contentment... I remembered that the God-forsaken dung-sucking Philistine-created NOMINATIONS are tonight.

Bleeergh. Puts one into about as appealing a postion as an adult proselyte. ("Present --- foreskin!")

Am I so shallow, that all my rediscovered security and approval and sense of being part of a Grand Design, all the feelings of being loved and wanted by God -- am I sooo shallow that I am going to throw all that overboard, just because the Nominations are coming round again?

Is one relatively small tragic happening, and one that's not a real blindsider, going to fry my faith?

Am I ever going to stop asking these questions?

<creaking massage table>

OK, alright, I'm getting too deep for my (heh) Naturally Sunshiny Disposition. Off to find a tall glass of something cold and wet.

Nominations in half an hour.
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First the discipline, then the reward...May 19, 17:28
Usually. But it came to me backwards yesterday.

I have been an undisciplined git the whole time I've been on this tub. Except for the hard exercise, of course. I'm talking about undisciplined as a person.

And yet I've been rewarded with such an overhwelming sense of being loved... and not from a woman for a change.
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WHAT was that? What WAS that? What was THAT?May 19, 1:08
We seven Arkmates rattled around like peas, alright, in that great mausoleum of a Chapel.

We sat in the deacon's benches up front. This was a plus, as I felt like a big dog in a small kennel when I tried the pulpit. Better to all sit close and simply stand to speak, I thought.

Esther did a FANTASTIC job with her moderation of the Bible discussion. Couldn't have been better. Of course, Pete had a bit to interject when he heard anything a little boy could twist into a crude comment. But it went well. I felt so at home in that segment of worship. It was like studying scrolls and debating meanings back home in Mahaneh Dan, when I was young. I'm afraid I fell to daydreaming a little...

Came to myself when Paul danced. He was right about that vow of celibacy. It wasn't an alluring dance at all. Very precise and deliberate, though. He didn't want to leave a single Woman of God out of the Honors List.

Anyway, when I got back into the discussion, Pete was still obstreporous, Martha had gotten indignant, Jez was enjoying the both of them and I think Esther felt awful.

Then it was my turn. By that time John was pacing like a madman, as well. Do I pace when he preaches, Diary?

So, any fantasy I'd had of sharing my finds in Scripture with people ready to consider them went up in smoke PDQ. There I stood before a wriggling, distracted bunch of people, each with his or her own private agony, none of them willing to trust anybody or share anything of it at all. John flying back and forth, pacing and gibbering about us getting done, and all the rest.

It was sad.

So I just bellowed it out, enough material for well over 5 minutes if I'd an audience to interact with, in about 2 minutes, and they were off to the races.

I'm not sure why a word from Gabe or God filtered down to the Chapel telling Martha & me to go on up to the bathroom. We weren't even talking to each other, we were both driven to mumbling to ourselves. When I got there people were leaving anyway.

Waited forever in line under the Crow's Nest to see God... invited Pete to wrestle, but he didn't take me up on it... and Yahweh didn't seem to have much in answer for my disgust over the lack of success of the worship.

Well, I did my best. I was reminded that God loves us, that He longs for us to love Him, and that we are incredibly valuable to Him. I tried to share that with my Mates. I guess the little bit of time I was able talk with Maggie helped after all-- I went into this with a fresh look, a Messiah-side look at God and gender and God's masculinity and femininity.

That's the big thing. I was reminded that I'm very much loved. It makes up for a lot.

Then, when God had to go, I went down to the bar and basically asked Jezebel to flirt with me. To kinda cheer me up. Maybe even help me forget Martha. (OK, I know that's not going to happen, not for a long time... what's a little self-delusion, Diary? Leave me my illusions...)

Old habits die hard.
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2.5 hours until Sunday Service time.May 18, 19:48
I feel so good! Excellent! Fantastic! It's unbelieveable!

I used what I had been able to get from Maggie, about Messiah, to help me with my insight into The Book for my sermon today. I was thinking that this load of resentment I've been carrying toward Yahweh might hamper me. I mean, a Service with a theme like "Celebrating Gender" does NOT need to be have a dark and heavy and resentful sermon!

But it all came together, as I prayed and sang and studied more of The Book. I found some angles of approach to Yahweh that I'd never considered before. I actually think I understand him a little better now! (Not much better -- but every little bit helps.)

The blood is simply rushing through my veins! I feel my hair curling! My workout this morning flew by, no effort, so much fun! What a load rolls off one's shoulders when one unpacks resentment!

The water and sky are a brighter blue, the animals more vibrantly colored, and the Arkmates are dearer to me than ever. Even Simon Peter, heh heh.

I feel good. Happy. Forgiven.

This is great!
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Breakthrough! Or breakdown... or breakout - - like a rash...May 18, 2:50
Well, I tried. I attempted to lay myself at Martha's feet. But whatever agony she was in, it wasn't something she thought I could help with.

She did seem to pull herself together again today, despite the strain of the Planking. She did it by reaching out to help others with THEIR pain. Johnny, for instance, in his worries over his doubts. She has no trouble consoling HIM. I guess it's because his pain is spiritual, while mine is less important because it's emotional and carnal in her eyes.

Don't worry, Diary, I don't plan on taking Johnny aside for a TALK. Heh heh heh. Nor Pete either - he's managed to secure her attention by being SICK. That's a fleshly need too, but it still warrants her care because there's no SEX in it. It gives her someone to clean up after.

<rustle of bed linen>
<rattle of ferret cage>

I don't know how Johnny will care for Houdini when he's so afraid of him.

I don't mind so much any more always waking up in the Pink Bedroom. At first it bothered me because I hated the idea of not being in control -- and something is terribly wrong when you always wake up in a strange place. Besides, I look better in blue. Brings out the blue-black lowlights in my hair. <chuckle>

If anything will ever stop me from carrying Jezebel up to her bed, it's that one thing - if I find out it scares her, waking up somewhere other than where she fell asleep. She told me she woke up on the floor two nights ago, and laughed, and asked if I'd pushed her out of bed. I laughed back, and tossed off some compliment like, "Honey, I'd have been much more likely to pull you INTO the bed."

I'll ask her about it. If it scares her, I guess I'll have to stop. But I sure will hate losing yet again another chance to feel close to someone, to love them by serving them.

Uh-oh... That's Paulie's task, loving Jez! Oh, no! Diary, do you think Paul has noticed me --- Maybe next time I find her curled up in some painful position somewhere, I could call Paul over to carry her upstairs. Yeah, that'll take care of it.

Or maybe I won't. <smirk>

The walls are closing in, Diary, despite the shrinking number of Arkmates. How ironic that we get all this added space and so many fun things to do AFTER we lose people. Soon we'll rattle around in here like dried peas in a hollow gourd.

I tried so hard these past few days to get closer to Maggie. She was my best hope for insight into Messiah, and now she's gone. I was also quite taken with that quirky personality. It wasn't easy to get to it - that hair laquer was like a shield - but it was in there! She was a good kid.

I was proud of myself - when I had her on the massage table - I kept my horrid base lusts to myself. I didn't taint what felt like a budding friendship with my... unwanted attentions. <grin> And the scalp massage she seemed to really enjoy. It was probably the first time her poor scalp had any tactile stimulation since the Evil Hairdressers got hold of her.

Maggie stayed self-reliant and self-contained to the end. But she did, finally, reach out and hug me in the Study as we all said our goodbyes. I felt so rewarded. I cried. I don't care who saw me.

And I've a part in the service tomorrow. I've the anchor spot, I guess, the sermon to tie up Paul's liturgical dance and Esther's Bible study of passages about the Masculinity AND Femininity of God. It will be the first time I've spoken in any kind of official capacity at all since before Delilah ---

Ugh, bleergh, I can't think about it right now.

So, anyway, after all these successive shocks, I feel... different. Something's altered inside. I won't say I feel "better" -- but I do feel sort of...


Yeah, happy's the word. And as if I've gotten my second wind after an endorphin rush. As if I've almost run the race and I can see the finish line and the victor's crown is being waved at me by a particularly winsome cheerleader.

And the winner is...May 17, 12:24
It's a toss-up. What is the more tantalizing torment, to stay or to go?

To suffer the whingeing and posturing of outrageous Arkmates -
Or to Walk, perchance? To leave? Is it more blessed to leave than to stay?

How am I supposed to preach something useful tomorrow when all I can think about today is the Dread Plank Walking? Perhaps I should back off and let Paulie preach. He at least can write a useful letter-style preachment, even while being tortured/jailed/shipwrecked/shakebitten.

I didn't have it drilling into my mind this much when it was my turn to possibly be voted out. Did I?

Lord, what will I do if I'm still here when Martha is nominated? Unthinkable! What if I'm still here when Martha GOES? That one dream I had about it - you remember, Diary, the silly knight-in-shining-armor, throw-myself-off-before-I-let-her-go dream? Is that how it will really be?

Well, I'll probably not have to worry about it. Surely Samson the Buffoon will be long gone before Martha the Perfect, Beautiful and Loveable goes.

Unless the Lord, the Voting Cloud of Witnesses, the Fates, whomever, decide to torture me by leaving me here.

Oh, Lord, what if I get left here alone with Pete and a woman? I'll have to hide her from him. <grin> If I were left here alone with Jezebel and Paulie I'd have to alternately hide the both of them. Alternative antagonism rather than alternative worship. Heh.


Enough rambling, isn't it, Diary?

Time for a lunch hour siesta. I'll think sermony thoughts while I sack out on a deck chair.

Sabbath dawnMay 17, 6:06
... and I'm the only one up. Although I love a dawn sky, and I need to exercise early while it's cool, I must confess that one reason I get up early is in the hope of seeing Martha, another early riser. Sometimes my hope is rewarded. <smile>

The clear head I get from the workouts is priceless. I tried to think things out the day I spent lying around by the pool. All that effort got me was that cynical "romance is dead" entry. Sorry, Diary.

There's a better result with the benefit of the workout routines. Clear-headed thought leads me to this: I am doing no one a favor ignoring Martha. Least of all Martha.

If her upset yesterday is nothing she will let me help with, so be it.

If she thinks I'm too dense to understand, or too male, or too... anything, so be it.

I originally decided to approach her based upon who and what she seemed to be, in the profile all of us had to turn in. Hoping for a nice, traditional betrothal, an arrangement to honor a bride as she deserves, a reciprocal thing with benefits for both of us. She seemed pretty and capable and smart and funny... Total Package, right?

Then we boarded the Ark, and I saw the animated real warm woman instead of a head shot. I heard the music in the laugh instead of only written signs of a sense of humor. Her eyes sparkled and her hands touched me and I was lost. Without a prayer. Shameless.

So she doesn't want me. I've been hurt before, big deal.
Take it like a man, Samson.

If I'm not lying to myself, if I actually love her, then I will serve her. I will make myself her slave, I will take her pain upon myself.

If she will allow it.

Massage, anyone?May 17, 0:51
Well, tonight was the usual "rotten because it's nominations night" night.

I went ahead with my plan to offer massage. Most of us looked pretty tense, we all needed it.

Only Maggie, Esther and John took me up on it. And John did a pretty fine job on my legs and feet, too. Maybe they teach massage among the Essenes, or some other group he studied with?

Paul said the mere idea made him anxious. Martha felt nervous or too restless or something. I tried to convince them, because massage is just what the doctor ordered for those problems.

Unless the masseur is one of the CAUSES of the tension? Oh, no! I just now thought of that. Wow. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, fearful rejection, but it still hurts. Man.

Speaking of fearful rejection... Esther took awfully hard her nomination for the Plank Vote. Bunny in the headlights. I told her to "join the club". Maggie was quiet about her own nomination - she said something about wanting to go to bed a couple of days. Her I didn't say "join the club" to. She's already so patient and willing to wait for answers...

It feels like nothing good can come of this process.


As far as the "keeping my distance from Martha" campaign is going...

It may be the hardest thing I've ever done. I can barely hold a conversation with someone else when she's in the room. I have to discipline myself sternly to avoid always positioning myself so as to be able to watch her.

I've tried appreciating the other feminine Arkmates, I really have. It is in my nature to enjoy the scenery, I guess. They are all so very beautiful, each in her own way. If I were ever so blessed as to have one of them interested in me, it would be great. We could have such fun. Who doesn't enjoy a chase and some flirting?

But there is still that longing for Martha. Still that desire to build a life with her, to support and encourage her, to... You know, Diary, I've told you from the beginning.

I still strain my ears as I pass a room where she might be, hoping to catch the sound of her voice, her laugh.

If only she had let me help her. I wanted so badly to help her. She was in some distress. I heard her talking - I couldn't help listening - her voice draws me so - I longed to just pick her up and carry her off and hold her until things looked better.

Do I continue to try to stay away? Do I allow her to think me uninterested all of a sudden? Is that what she wants? Is it what she needs?

Does ANYONE understand women?!? Do WOMEN understand women?!?

Oh, God, help me, help me.

Who am I to think I should be preaching Sunday about "Celebrating Gender"? As if I have a grasp of the subject! Blast that Dove!
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ShamelessMay 16, 16:18
There is just no hope, is there? I am having no luck at all ignoring Martha. I swear, if she wriggles by one more time in that jumper, I'll...

I'll... <<groan, head in hands>>


I'll go find someone else to talk to.


It's not as if there aren't several fascinating men and women here to talk with. And every one of the women is a heart-stopper. Just because I can't marry some of them doesn't mean I shouldn't enjoy them, right? Get a move on, Samson, mingle!

Hey, one way I can serve people and get to know them is to massage all comers! That new table is perfect. Delilah would jump on it. Nothing like a little deep-tissue massage to relax people and bring them together...

I'll tell you, Diary, who needs a good going-over on the table - Pete! Ol' Simon Peter needs some healthy blood flow. He needs some flexibility improvement. He needs release of toxins and revitalization of reflexes.

I wonder what it would take to get him on my table?

Heh. Probably an ice-chest full of Jungle Juice.
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50 laps/deck - 50 pushups - 50 crunches - 50 presses - 50 laps/poolMay 16, 6:45
Dawn = time to work out.

Yesterday off was fun, but I can't make a habit of it. Too much lolling about under deck umbrellas will give me the Fat Arse <<chuckle>>... (that Pete, I swear!)

Got to move around - especially since we're nominating again this evening. Nasty setup, that. Well, at least while we're cooped up on the top deck for it, I can spend some time in the showers. Thank Yahweh for the showers.

As for the Shower Dance the women made up... we can thank the Other Fellow for that one. I've managed to turn my head away so far, but what if they decide to do it all over the place all the time? Will I need to don a blindfold? I'd rather die.

As I made the rounds this morning, that kids' song I sang last night kept running through my head. One reason I used it is because my so-called singing voice is best suited for pep rallies or other enthusiastic youthful events. After talking with Maggie, it occured to me that she might like "Jesus" instead of "Yahweh". I sang it to myself through all the laps and crunches and squat-thrusts. It fits well with the deep, rapid breathing.

"Cast your burdens (clap clap clap) Onto Jesus (clap clap clap)
For He cares (clap clap clap) for youoooo (clap clap clap)"

"Higher (hands in air) - higher,
higher higher higher higher higher higher higher
Lift Jesus higher!"

lower - push Satan lower
deeper - build your faith deeper
wider - spread the Gospel wider

(With appropriate hand motions)

I always wanted a child. My heirs are my nieces and nephews, no worries about the bloodline or properties. I just wanted someone of my own to love, to help, to teach. That may be why all the little ones always loved me. They knew how I felt about them and responded in kind. And they loved to laugh over my antics when I tried to sing their happy songs. They brightened many a dark day for me.

<sigh> *******************************************

I have tried since we lost Neb to stay the heck away from Martha. It is so painfully obviously what she wants from me. So I'll be working on that all day today as well. Polite, pleasant greetings, and that's it.

No trying to engage her in conversation. No getting lost in her sparkling eyes, no touching her in every possible brotherly socially acceptable way I can, just because it's all I'll ever have...

Some days, the temptation to lose myself in a hogshead of wine and a loose woman can really get unbearable.
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Weirdest night yet! Insanity, barely organized.May 16, 3:42
I grabbed a couple of moments with Maggie, before that awful "show" we did, and we got in a little of the talking I want to do about Messiah. It might've helped her too (*I hope*). That's one thing accomplished.

Jez was only half-joking when she agreed with me that Paul might talk with me more if I paint my toenails Jez's colour. Paulie has been super-strange these past couple days. I was amazed to see him straighten up, though, when he M.C.'d The Show! If the only thing we got out of it is just that, a moment of sanity for the old and loved Paul to peep through again, then I'm glad we did it.

Jez and Esther cooked up a good catfight, a la Springer. Too bad all my best efforts have not led to granting their wish that they had someone pregnant for the show... <grin> Naturally Pete wanted to slop some mud on them. Tsk tsk tsk... everyone knows fruit flavored gelatin is better. Perhaps he'll compromise and go with chocolate pudding next time.

Oh! The bathroom is finished, finally! Huzzah! I was so busy lolling around by the pool all day, I never knew until I went inside for the evening. Ecstatic over the showers! Sad, melancholy note though -- if that massage table in there had been available when I was working the knots out of Eve's shoulders, people wouldn't have thought something funny was up between us. (I never said it wasn't tempting! There is something so appealing about being wanted... but I couldn't have lived with myself if I had taken advantage that way.)

Anyway, I bet the women especially appreciate the loo. They must be sick and tired of using the portholes. (Hah! I'm teasing!)

I was in Pete's way after The Show when we lined up at the pool to (yikes) dance. He told me "move yer fat arse".

Fat arse! FAT? One measly day of sunning and shirking the exercise and it's FAT? No way! (I say it's Pleasantly Well-Muscled. Jez agrees, and I suppose she would know. She's got all those semi-naked men-at-arms back home.)

Heh. Pete's just envious 'cause he HAS no arse. Or at least none I can see under that coverall. I have decided not to envy him his full suit of clothes and pretty hair any more. Instead I will thoroughly enjoy my irritated snit over that Fat Arse observation. Humph. So I'm an Oversized Transvestite with a Fat Arse. And The Almighty Himself has said I "go both ways".

Boy, the things you learn about yourself on the Ark. <<rolling eyes>>

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See what happens when I don't exercise?May 15, 17:42
Too much thinking. Too much time for thinking.

<dripping pool water>
<pad of bare wet feet on deck>
<creaking deck chair>
<contented *sigh*>

Romance is dead. The whole world is either about ascetic dried-up ethereal "relationship", way out on some sort of angelic plane...

Or, random molten-hot bunny sex. Sex with about as much deep meaning as... as...

A sneeze.

<lazy poolside humming>
<ping! ping! of ice in glass>

There, Diary, aren't you glad I didn't dredge up Pete's floater illustration for that bodily-function point? What a mind that man has.


It would have been funny, though. And apt.

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Time flies when you sit on yer bum doing nothing...May 15, 15:04
No, no it doesn't. I'm being sarcastic, Diary. Or ironic. Shooting for irenic, too.

Tried NOT doing the "50 laps - 50 crunches - 50 this - 50 that" routine this morning. Just sprawled out by the pool, thinking. That's hard work, for me, hee. I feel almost sick for lack of exercise.

People drifted by, we spoke sometimes, sometimes not. Lazy day.

And boring as Hell. Feels like a week and it's only 3 in the afternoon.


I have decided some things:

*I'm gonna ask Gabe whether it was he there with me in the Temple of Dagon. It felt like Gabe, it sounded like Gabe. He held my hands and put them on the columns for me...

*I'm gonna ask Jezebel if she thinks I could get Paulie to talk with me more if I painted my toenails the same colour as hers. Heh. (I haven't found Jez asleep in any odd places since I carried her up to her bed the other night. Did she change her habits to avoid me?)

*I'm gonna ask Esther, since she and Jez are busy trying to think up ways to liven up this tub, to adapt the "Have You Ever" or "Truth or Dare" format. She can graft it to her idea about that shameful TV show. (Jerry Boinker? Jerry Coil? Jerry Springer?)

*I'm gonna chase after these half-informed ideas I have about Messiah and try to discuss them with a blonde. Maggie or Pete. <grin> Since Maggie's so pretty I know which one I'll try first. Hah.
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I guess the old Gardens are Hangin' a little wetter now....May 15, 7:17
Poor Neb bought it last night. I would have sworn it was going to be me. "Cool" folk like Neb and Esther seem to waft through life with a current; self-contained folk like Maggie often have to paddle, but they're still "in". Stodgy folk like Samson disrupt the current. Ergo, I thought it'd be me.

I was so "good" last night. I thought of a rather humorous way to try & let Neb know how it hurt, the way he was able to give Martha something I couldn't. A way that did NOT allow me to hurt him.

Somehow I didn't get it communicated, though, what with Martha wading into the midst of it and all. After that, it all goes misty. (Is that what it's like to get drunk?)

Then I came to myself alone in the Study. One of those Joseph-dreams that used to grab Evie had seized me up. I figure it was an humbling visitation from Yahweh, since it had the impeccable timing to let me loose for the Denunciation. Hallucinated a bit after that, but I was able to keep it together to give Neb a send-off. It's the least we can do for the Planked Ones, to be there for them, their appreciative audience.

I'm exploring how I feel about all that, this dawn. Taking a break from the usual workout. Really poking around my emotions, like looking for embers in a banked fireplace.

I'm not finding many. Shocker.

Perhaps because he's gone, all I think of when remembering that "Date" is that I'm grateful it was Neb. Rather than Pete, say. <shudder> Martha likes Pete.

I'm glad Martha got her hands on some food. Most of all I'm glad she had a chance to talk, a real intellectual sort of conversation no doubt, filled with pithy observations and reflection on the Messiah I'm sure. Neb was far from stupid - just misguided. And Martha gives good talk. <chuckle>

I have loved every conversation I've ever had with her, but it's obvious she doesn't consider me a suitable partner for verbal badminton. (Nor much of anything else. And the few things she'd want me for, she has decided to forfeit in life, I believe.)

Not even to tell me things I need to know about Messiah. If I can get a grip on the whole "suffering saviour" bit, I bet I'll come to resent Yahweh less for all He's put me through.

Who else can tell me these things?

*Pete? Yeah, sure. I can see that conversation. He'd like to do it in the pool so's he can try to drown me between sentences.

*Paul? I would have thought so, the first few days, but he's gotten so preoccupied lately... Well, maybe I can get his attention. I have a tattoo, and long hair, and I can always paint my toenails or something. <laugh>

*Johnny? Another "think so". But he's preoccupied, too, and very much in demand with the ladies... Will he have time?

*Mary Maggie? Hallelujah, there's some hope there. If she can even open up about Him at all. I'll help her if I can - I don't find it easy to talk about my "beloved ones gone before", either.

As for Martha, I just don't see it happening. She spoonfeeds me small words. And I get lost in the downy silky textures of her skin and hair, and I get distracted watching her walk. She walks like no one else. Maybe it's the jumper. <grin>

She may see me as a lot of things, and maybe not all bad things... But a valued partner for eternally vital conversation ain't one of them.
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Jezebel's going to need a chiropractor...May 14, 15:50
if she keeps falling asleep in chairs and on sofas. It's like she runs full-bore until she's drained all the enjoyment possible from an evening, then she drops over to recharge. No wonder Eve liked her. There's that "kitten" in both of them.

She told me to not ever carry her up to bed again.

Well, we'll see. If I survive tonight's Planking -
and after I... communicate... with Nebuchadnezzer.
We'll see.

The House of the Vampire?May 14, 14:59
I have a great aversion to mirrors this afternoon - Even I don't want to see the look in my own eyes right now - and an inordinate interest in blood. Books in the Study tell me what that means. Heh. The clincher would be if the garlic in the galley made me ill, right, Diary? (IF THERE WERE ANY GARLIC OR ANYTHING ELSE EDIBLE IN THE DAMNED KITCHEN, LORD. HINT, HINT.)

Johnny was wondering yesterday about the benefits of my exercise regimen - about its potential for quashing pesky... urges... and its usefulness for getting deep, exhausted sleep (i.e., dreamless sleep).

I hope I didn't give him the impression that maniacal physical activity really cures anything. All it does is put things off. And punching walls and crunching glass is only cathartic for so long. And the blood makes a mess.

I am glad I couldn't find Nebby last night.
I'd have hammered him.
I'd have hurt him without a word.

Now that I've cooled off a few hours...
I think now I can talk to him first.

Then I'll hurt him.

God PlotsMay 14, 1:12
Never mind the vote. Never mind that one of us bites the water tomorrow.

Never mind that I'm being unreasonable.

God called me up to talk, finally. I was so excited! I've been longing to touch base... when it's not time for Him to dress me down or get me to nominate people.

But it appears He called me to hide from me the fact that Nebuchadnezzer was wine-ing and dining Martha!

<sounds of fist punching wall>

Esther was ill, apparently - I stopped by her room to wish her well and she was sleeping - So I figured the Date was off.

I was idly wondering if Martha would have enjoyed that Chat-Up Line Contest. She deserves to be flirted with as much as the other women... even more so. I started thinking up some lines as I walked to the Living Room...

Then I wondered why God had suddenly decided to give us squishy love-tunes on the Radio. Couldn't escape them, they were everywhere. Does He just like to torture us, I thought? Naaaaaah... He loves us.

Then the guys filled me in. MARTHA was with Neb, Martha and Neb, Neb and Martha. White linen. Flowers. Candlelight, her eyes sparkling at NEBUCHADNEZZER.

<sounds of breaking glass>

Oh, Yahweh. You've shafted me again. Presumably for Your own inscrutable important eternal ends... beside which, my heart means nothing.

Nor does my pride. Nor my rage. Nor all the years of desperately clinging to self-control so as not to hurt people or injure Your causes, nor the "alabaster box" of the pain of the times I failed. Nor... Oh, God, what have You done?

Or should it be "Oh Martha you've shafted me"?

I think I'm going to have a little TALK with Martha and Neb tomorrow.

Yeeees... just a little TALK with Nebby.

Perhaps out by the Dove where I've christened the rail with blood.
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Paul said something about exercise availing only a little...May 13, 16:51
But then, it helps me to think, and it keeps the muscles "ripped". Who knows? I may be in for a very long swim.

After brooding in the Study for so long last night, I hadn't much sleep; got up @ dawn as usual, pushed through the 50-50-50's. I think I'm wearing a path in the deck.

Every time I pass that spot in the bow where I splintered the rail -- I still see my blood there -- I really ought to clean that up -- I'm ashamed all over again at my loss of control. I mean, I'm not the first one to be angry with God or to question His ways, so why vandalize the Ark and bloody my hand dealing with it? And what gives, with so much less upset and anger over this second nomination? What is different?

Could my fury over what Yahweh's doing - or not doing - be the reason why I've never been angry with Martha? (It can't be because I love her - people get mad at the people they love all the time.) What is that term - Sublimation? Substitution? (I'll have to ask John and Esther - they've read all that mental stuff in the Study.)

I am a paragon of control these days, though. Haven't broken anything lately. Haven't stared soulfully at Martha's pretty rear view for several hours, at least. (*grin*)

And last night I carried Jezebel up to bed in the most brotherly manner imaginable. No groping! (*bigger grin*)

I hope Paul didn't see me - he seemed to be pretty restless when I passed. I'd never hear the end of it, since I think he's taken on Jez as a special project.

In fact I almost hope Jezebel doesn't remember how she got to bed. I don't know if she just automatically disdains letting someone take care of her or what -- and I've had it to the emotional gills already because Martha DOES disdain letting someone take care of her. God, I love that woman. How it torments me that she can't return it the way I'd like.

I have seen couples serving God together. Abba and Amma were fantastic that way. *sigh* Why can't she see that it IS possible?

It must be me. Maybe with the right man, she could see herself walking by his side in service to Messiah. Such would please me. I am curious about Him. She has so much she could teach me about Messiah.

And perhaps not much time left to do it.
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Nebby and Esther aren't in much danger, I don't think.May 13, 3:19
Our "Great Cloud of Witnesses" out there won't vote for them...

I mean, if you think negatively, people probably want to see these two beautiful royals have dinner together, and grow close, and eventually betray their spouses. All several hundred spouses! So they'll probably survive this Planking. If that's not too negative a thought to have.

On the other hand, thinking positively -- Maggie is safe enough. Don't people want to see her really blossom? She's just starting to loosen up -- now that she's gotten her hands on her ferret -- and a few more animals to love. (Although I do wonder why she speculated about my probable lack of tolerance for alcohol, me being a tee-totaller, and how small a dose of alcohol it would take to get me drunk... Somehow I don't see her spiking my drinks, though. Silly thought.)

What about me? Why would people want me around? What do I have to offer that anyone wants?

Sex? Naaaah -- who wants that?

I'm gorgeous to look at <chuckle>... Maybe I'm eye-candy enough to keep around? Maybe there's a segment of the Watchers out there who have Hair Issues just like me.

Muscles? I'm the only one with any hope of killing Rex if he gets loose. Although of course we could always just depend upon the Lord to save us from unnecessary death <eyes rolling toward ceiling> .... Yeah, riiiiight...

Well, since Martha has blown hot and cold these past couple of days, I suppose I can't count upon spending much time with her. Romance fans will have to do without my thrilling behaviour in that department. Oh, Martha.

I have no idea how this voting will go. *sigh*

Enough. Three hours til dawn and I'm still sitting here in the Study. I'm off to the Blue Room to sleep.

I wonder does Jezebel want to be carried up to bed?

Oh, God! I just realized something horrible!May 13, 1:03
Esther was one of my nominations tonight, specifically BECAUSE I was absolutely sure no one else would vote for her.

I mean, I could avoid a horribly unpleasant guilt by tossing out a harmless vote that way, right?

Lord, what have I done? Doesn't matter to me that she seems so blase about the possibility of a planking - I still feel as if I've killed a bunny.

A petite little bunny with a slamming haircut and a magenta dress <sniffle> <chuckle>... a bright bunny with a mind like a steel trap ticking away under the hair... but a bunny still, caught in my headlights.


Martha was deliberately avoiding me all evening.May 13, 0:44
I wonder if she's ever been called appropriate names for that?

Not that I would. <grin>

"Temptress" is about as rough a name as I would call her. And I suppose it's a compliment the way I mean it.
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Lofty ideals and heartfelt dedication mean something... somewhere. To someone.May 13, 0:39
But not here. Too bad I'm not any good at maintaining them, but they arent' needed here anyway, are they?

We're not on this tub for the sake of my heart. Heaven knows why we are...

But it obviously ain't to help me "fix" all that I've done so wrong, for so long, in 20 years leading Israel.

I need to quit trying to. Fix it, I mean. John showed me that I do have a gift - I can play piano a bit. Still can't sing (hah!). And after he left, that talk with Jez in the Study before bedtime really opened my eyes.

Who'd have thought a little slip of a girl, wearing two Band-Aids and a couple of tattoos, could help me so quickly to harden my resolve?

(Shut up, Diary, with the double entendres and puns. I know you're thinking them.)

Time to pass out for the evening. I think I'll stay in the Study all night if the Lord allows.
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I have simply GOT to find something useful to do on the Ark.May 12, 18:56
One can only do so many laps around the deck. I will pester Noah until he allows me to straighten out that mess belowdecks. All those crates!

And while I have read much and learned much in the Study, I need action. Must be a kinesthetic learner.

I want to trail around after Martha, that's what I really want to do, but I don't want to make her sick of me when I've only just last night been rewarded with her love. (Feelings! Feelings of love, Diary, watch that slang. Not the OTHER loving... but one can hope, cannot one? <grin>)

*sigh* Nominations tonight. Drat. All those enticing thoughts don't distract one for long.
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What about Simon Peter?May 12, 12:26
On the surface of it, I'd think he'd be a good one to nominate, because one would never believe he'd actually get voted off. Him being so popular and all. That way I can selfishly hug to my chest the feeling of not having hurt him, see?

But - he and Martha obviously get along like gangbusters.

So how would I really, truly, deep-down KNOW I didn't nominate him due to simple jealousy?

I wouldn't know, would I?


What an unworthy emotion...

ly becauy

Dawn, MondayMay 12, 6:12
50 laps 'round deck and pool
50 abdominal crunches
50 push-ups, chin-ups
(did NOT crack a doorway this time; Noah must be relieved)

Threw in more stretching this morning; for variety, a few squats lifting some heavy crates in the storage deck.

It's a good thing to lose yourself in a routine like that; clears your mind so's you can really think.

And what I think is this: I'm an idiot, probably, but I'm so happy I don't give a damn.

Nominations today. Hellish, having to do that. What possible reason do I have to want anyone off this boat? More importantly, who might want to put Martha off? Should I be thinking in terms of "pre-emptive nomination"?

How the heck should I know whom to nominate?

I was at first astonished that Martha had nominated me; less so, though, as her explanation made clear that there was some fear involved. Fear is something elemental. I understand fear. People have been fearing me all my life.

And I felt not one tiny shred of hurt over it, not a wisp of anything negative. It was as if something of God welled up in me - all I knew was a desire to gather her up in my arms and kiss her fears away. (I have fallen to less-than-lofty ideals at times, too, possibly out of my own inner demons. I understood her pain.) But, it mightn't have been well-received <grin> to grab her right there in the midst of worship at the pool.

So, do I go back to one of my earlier plans - to nominate people who are such universal favorites that my vote will not hurt them, for no one else would ever nominate them? Is that a cop-out if I do it, a selfish desire to avoid having to accept blame/responsibility?

Do I try for that pre-emptive strike? Try to figure out who may want to hurt my Martha?

Lord, if I could think that deeply perhaps I'd still be Judge of Israel.

But, then, I'd not have been plucked out of my proper time and place and set here. Here where there is Martha. I am so blessed.

50 laps running... 50 crunches... 50 sit-ups, 50 chin-ups... 50 squat-thrusts with 250-lb. crate... 50 bench-presses with alligator (stop squirming, you!)... 50 laps swimming...

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I have never been so happy in all my life...May 12, 3:16
Not even on the way to my wedding. I was a young stud then, on top of the world, had no idea how precious and love can be, and how easily lost.

I know more, now. I know enough to treasure every second of my time here, now that Martha has said... Oh, God, she said she LOVES me. Hallelujah! Thank You, Father!

I'm not stupid. I know she's making a difference in her mind between LOVING me and being IN LOVE with me. And that's alright. That's a twist of the knife I'll take. I'll accept the thrust, if only it's her sweet hand that delivers it.

She loves me. She loves me. She loves me. Praise You, Father, for making her, and for allowing her to be here. The Prototype was lovely, and we miss her... but the Martha-unit is your best creation yet.

I just cannot get over it. I hope I never do get over it. <grin>

After all the worship excitement was over - would you believe she used me as a sermon illustration? All I've ever been for preachers before this is a bad example! - Then we swam a bit, and she went up to bed.

And I stopped in the Study for a lovely session of "Ignore the Samson" with Johnny, Es, Jez and even Gabe.

Didn't bug me a bit. I was dancing on air. (Well, inside I was. A man my size literally dancing on air would surely have gotten their attention. <grin>)

Then I danced out of the Study, and danced up the ladder, and danced across the Landing, and into the Blue Bedroom, where my Martha was asleep. So beautiful. (And it's not so far off calling her "My Martha" any more. Praise God!)

So, after I'd absolutely filled my eyes with her, I closed them quickly so I'd not dilute the sight with any mundane thing. Like the radio, or something. And I turned to my bed, and almost fell over it because my eyes were tight closed. <guffaw>

But I made it into the bed. And I picked you up, Diary, to record all this. Because who knows what will happen tomorrow to bring us grief? I want to remember this happiness.

Time to get some sleep. Only three hours until dawn and the daily exercise regimen. *yawn* <rustle of sheets>

She loves me. <sweet grin>

She loves me. <rapturous sigh>

She said... she loves me.
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Oh, God, What Next?May 11, 18:32
I overheard Johnny composing. Some song for this evening's worship, I guess. Sounded like animals in heat.

Oh, Lord. Don't strike him dead for it. Much as You might like to.


If You did then he'd be de-composing.


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Jezebel's Reputation Has Been A Fizzle...May 11, 14:17
Not my reaction. <grin> THAT stays constant. She's very attractive.
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Wild & Woolly Worship?May 11, 13:31
If the rumors are true, then
*Jezebel has something to do with the plans for worship today, along with Esther, and
*John is tying the animals into it somehow. Knowing him, it will also involve singing and totally inappropriate gyrations of all sorts.

I'm not too uncomfortable with it, truth be told - since Jezebel has so far been just another girl. I feared her - or rather, what my reactions to her would be - but so far it's a fizzle rather than an explosion. <grin>
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Another One Bites the Drink...May 11, 3:59
Moses was voted off. I really thought he had a clear advantage over me, him being a Hero of the Book for millions of people, including me. And so much more likeable than I am! It's a mystery.

(No way I could write this stuff down in the dark- no way I could spell most of it. Fascinating technology, these voice-writing thingies.)

I'm glad I told Moses yesterday how I felt about him. We should always be prepared that way, having told people how we feel about them, before it's everlastingly too late. I learned that the hard way, when I was young. <sound of clearing throat>

I didn't know whether to smack Pete through the deck or throw my arms around him and hold him while he cried. Try to let a guy know you're available if he needs to talk, and he screams at you and calls you an "oversized transvestite"...

<rustle of hay, sounds of stifled laughter>
<several moments of quiet laughter>
<choking back laughter to avoid waking animals>

Ah, me. <chuckle> I get such a kick out of that. <grin> That was just too good on too many levels to count. If only I DID have a few other clothes, women's or not. I'm not always warm enough with this skimpy outfit.

Well, Diary, it's good to finally be able to get down here with the animals. I promised Rex I'd come & sleep here if I were still on the Ark after last night, so I have. Frankly, it's fun for a change to sleep somewhere other than a room full of women.

Hardly met Joseph before he had to leave. Miss Job, miss Eve. Miss Moses. Sad times, Diary, sad times.
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Finally! Animals in the daylight...May 10, 20:04
Or as much as gets down those hatches, anyway.

Being able to finally see them has truly taken my mind off the <gulp> Planking set for tonight. I really don't want to see Moses go - but I really, really want to stay.

I smile, remembering Maggie's efforts with the lamp and the rope t'other night. She was so earnest about wanting the animals cared for. Now that the ladders are right, she can get down there any time she likes. I pray for her sake that the unicorn takes a shine to her.

Y'know about unicorns and maidens, right, Diary? I'll bet the unicorn loves Martha. Is there a more pure-hearted woman on board? Beautiful, and open as a book, honest as the day is long. She's one who would never nominate me for a planking.

I had to go look up the big green creature in an encyclopaedia in the Study. I thought, "Dragon"? No, it appears to be a "tyranosaurus rex", whatever that is. I'll call him Rex.

He has such a funny bugle-like tenor voice! I stalked down the aisle with my best deepest bass rumble - just so as to show him who was boss, y'see. Animals need the reassurance of a person's own self-confidence, if they're to rest easy with you.

So there I was rumbling and purring at him, rather as a lion does, and he tootled back at me! Sounded just like a little coronet or a tenor saxophone. It was so funny! I'm afraid I frightened the pandas, laughing.

Oh, no! Maybe the females have higher voices. Perhaps it's not a "he"! I'll take a look when I go down again. What if the rumbling and growling I was doing sounded like a mating call to her?!?

Ah, well, it wouldn't be the first time a "mating call" from Samson got refused. <rueful chuckle>

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Missed out on the animals. Damn.May 10, 1:26
Something about a ladder not being installed correctly?

So, if I get the boot tonight, I may have to leave with the only glimpse of them being what I managed while stumbling around in there while Maggie held the light overhead.

*SIGH* again.

I lost it on the deck, at the bow. I was so STEAMED about the Lord not hearing me, I began to hit the rail. By the time I realized what I was doing, I'd splintered it and cracked it and bloodied my hand. Damn.

What a disjointed day. Almost no connection with anyone. Managed to let Nebby know I can't work for him, finally; that was a decent talk. The man had been in bed for two days! Kings. Hah!

Well, I'm gonna restfully tread water a while, just cooling off, before I get to bed. Gotta try to get some sleep. Jezebel took my bed. Too bad she wouldn't share. :D
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50 laps around the deck... 50 abdominal crunches...May 9, 21:47
50 laps across the pool... 50 push-ups... 50 chin-ups (cracked the lintel again... gates & door frames and me just don't get along... Sorry, Noah)... 50 laps around the deck.

I've been trying to figure out exactly why I'm angry. Thinking it may help to channel it, you know, Diary?

Is it because I was nominated? Not really... although of course one would like to float along having one's way at all times. If I'm angry because of that, and that alone, this rage is way out of proportion to the stimulus.

What is it? Could it really be that offhand comment Yahweh made about me "going both ways"? Am I so limited that such a comment warps me this way? I mean, in the first place, it's not true. In any way.

Is it?

And even if it were... {{shudder}}... The fact that such a comment was made by my Creator should be enough to settle it for me. If he said I was interested sexually in Gabriel, even (perish the thought), that'd be His business. He is God, Lord of All.

10 more laps around the deck - then I'll hit the showers.

Almost time for the evening meeting. Couldn't get a siesta today, couldn't hold still; I'm glad I've worked out. Perhaps, after all this sweat and a freezing shower, I'll be clear-headed for the gathering.

And I promise not to take a bite out of the livestock, Diary. {grin}
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What was I thinking?!?May 9, 10:16
Late last night (early this morning) I entered this:

"...The other Samson -- the one I thought I'd learned to keep tied down -- suddenly wants to get up. Right now. I hope no one gets hurt."

What a statement!

It's far from adequate or accurate this morning.

This morning, I want to TEAR SOMEBODY'S BLOODY HEAD OFF.
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Animals today, they say...May 9, 9:51
I do hope all of us remember there are only a couple of most types on board. Wouldn't do to go gobbling goats or eating elk or chomping chamois, without a care, thus wiping out whole species.

But yet - if it were possible - I would LOVE to butcher something. Fresh meat would make me very very happy right about now.
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