All known elements would need to be present for minimal survivability and sustainability, anything else threatens a suicide mission beyond reasonable odds that can likely include all manner of unexpected consequences and surprises that might involve some previously unknown or undiscovered elements.
It's getting the optimal mix of all known ingredients,the main goal will be to understand the value or not of so-called nuisance species (i.e. pests), to an extent that some may be a vital catalyst that will somehow might 'save the day', when all else fails to overcome an intractable problem. High risk demands high hopes and a well stocked larder. Miniaturization will go a long way to help solve the storage problem, one key question is what are we not taking that remains a hidden variable.

once everything is inputted, "wqtr555555555555555555555555555555555555"
~ cat walked on keyboard

one will simply ask, "Now what?"

"z.", cat's reply.

once you've stopped laughing, maybe cries will wonder then who the tears are for/

apparently an age of forgetfulness could end some day, but still they will be some who doubt.

cat fails to translate.(not say he tried)
give it a try.

What quantum trick repeats?

Death or crashing appears as a catalyst and may work as well with consciousness as without.

anticipating disaster is all well and good and getting surprised acts as a way to be humbled.

so, even if life leads to death (unconnected bits without means to assemble) you can't make me eat it. (or I you, some call something like that a promise)
...and if it becomes intolerable then I'll wonder why I bothered at all.

surely someone else has noticed that death is anti-climatic.

what a weird idea that every stone wouldn't be turned, and with musical chairs and peas under shells, there's still a sucker born every minute and main goal is give them what they want.

there are a million ways to be, how many have you tried so far? only one or two ways to end.(same may be true for begin).

come back when you've exhausted every avenue, I'll show you the boulevards...

oh btw, here's what I learned today.
The plural of beef is beeves, which rhymes with Jeeves, who learned to serve others as well as himself, all without being self-serving and even find some time and space for some self and other servicing.

and isn't it clear enough that something is better
and worse than nothing cause nothing causes nothing only once, if then.


The Math~
3Y-5Y+10=36
-2Y=36-10
-2Y=26
Y=26/-2
Y=-13 ANSWER.
-----------------------------------------------
2P+10=40
2P=40-10
2P=30
P=30/2
P=15 ANSWER.

Dedicated to My Father


Indian summer is warm weather that occurs during the early autumn. Eskimo Summer is warm weather that happens during the late autumn, sometimes ever the early winter.

The Diver

The mask was so fogged; he could not see the shark coming. The shark's view was in no way obscured. It hit its target with typical explosive suddenness. The area was flooded with a red cloud of blood that spread then thinned. He never had time for last thoughts. His friend, some thirty yards away, watched as the horror of torn limbs unfolded before her eyes. She released shark repellant. The fogged mask with cracked lens floated slowly to the ocean floor.

The Friend

As she sat across me, still in a state of shock, she told her tale of her friend's dance with death. Her eyes were bloodshot, with crusts of tears still clinging to her face. The soft spoken voice belied the emotion that ran below the surface. Her Intuit heritage stood her well.
With sorrow welling deep, her basic stoic character was gradually taking over.
"You know, we weren't sleeping together."
Of course, we all assumed they were.
"It doesn't matter now.” I said. But it did. We had grown up together, Childhood friends, my first love. She had gone away to college. I stayed home. She had returned to work on her master's thesis.
"No, I guess it doesn't. I'm not really sure what does matter now."
I didn't want to say it. Didn't want to say you have to go on with your work, finish your thesis. I didn't want to have to say goodbye to her again. I wanted to tell her I still loved her.

The Mask

The mask washed up on the shore today. The cracked lens was gone. I slipped it on and dove into the frigid water. I heard my mother calling, "You'll catch your death!". I wondered what I would do with death, if I did catch it. The water was clear. No fog. No sharks. I stayed clear of the spot where the attack took place. I came up for air and saw a humpback blowing spray off the point. I went back to shore and flung the mask back into the sea. I knew the mask would drift back to shore with the tide, again and again.

The Dream

I knew death, but it didn't know me. I was twenty-two, a man by some standards. I didn't see the appeal. The diver's death touched me in a place that made me return to the shore, to the mask. It had become a ritual. I was searching for the shark. Not to kill. To ask, what did death taste like?
In my dreams, the shark told me death tastes like the first day of Eskimo Summer. A little cool at first, then it burns, the fire races down the throat, explodes in your stomach, makes your mind reel, makes you laugh and cry at the same time, makes you want to shout and whisper. It makes you crazy the shark said.
I buried the mask in the frozen sand. Eskimo Summer is gone.
I spend a lot of time in front of the fire. I am not cold; in fact I am burning up. I refuse to ice fish. My mother tells me I must leave when the spring comes. Right now it feels like the winter will never end. Going away may make a man of me yet.

The Spring

I am camped on the border, in last night's dream I said goodbye to the shark. I have lost death and now I feel like a man. The diver's friend is living in Coos Bay, Oregon. I will go there and tell her that losing death is like gaining a new life. Maybe, we can be friends or something. When I see her, I hope I don't see his face in her eyes. Perhaps I will see mine or something.


The first draft:

Eskimo Summer ~

When sanity is the disease. Madness is the cure.

Part I

Indian Summer is warm weather that occurs during the early autumn, therefore, Eskimo Summer is warm weather that occurs during the late autumn, sometimes even, the early winter.

The diver's mask had fogged up so much that the diver did not see the coming of the shark. The shark did not have such a mask to obscure its view. The shark came straight away to its target, the diver. The diver never knew what hit him. The diver's friend saw it all and took, so to speak, what steps that could be taken. The friend released the shark repellant. The shark wasted no time in being repelled. But alas, the diver with the fogged mask was mortally wounded. The diver's friend retrieved the body, what was left of it anyway.

It was well into Eskimo Summer; the temperature climbed and forgot to stop. We had had a good day of fishing; the memory of the diver had begun to fade. The only thing that lingered was the bad taste joke that Harry had made. "Who was that masked man anyway?" The diver had been very much a loner. Except for the diver's friend, we hardly knew him. We rarely saw him without his mask. There was a little problem in not remembering what he looked like. The diver's friend did not stay around long. Took off in a mad fit of cabin fever some say.

The diver's mask washed up to shore today. Eskimo Summer is hiding behind the clouds today. The mask lost the glass; there is no danger of fogging. I slipped it on and dove into the frigid water. I heard my mother calling, "You will catch your death!" I just wondered what I would do with it, if I did. The water was clear as the missing glass, no fogging, and no shark. I had to steer clear of the spot where the diver and the shark did, what the old folks like to call, their dance of death. I had to come up for air. A humpback was blowing right off the point. I went back to shore and flung the mask back into the sea. I knew then that the mask would drift back onto the shore, when the tide came back. I knew the diver would not.

Part II

I knew death but death did not know me. It was my twenty-second Eskimo Summer. I was supposed to be a man by almost anyone's standards. It just did not appeal to me. The diver's death had touched me in a place that kept me coming back to the shore, where the mask would wash itself up. I would put on the mask. It had become a ritual. I would dive into the freezing water. I would avoid the place of death. I knew I was searching for the shark, but the shark never showed, so far. I kept on fishing, but not because I wanted to. I wanted to catch the shark, but I did not want to eat it. I wanted to ask the shark what death tasted like.

In my dreams, the shark told me death tastes like the first day of Eskimo Summer. A little cool at first, but then it burns, the fire races down your throat, explodes in your stomach, makes your mind reel, makes you laugh and cry at the same time, makes you want to shout and whisper. To tell the truth, said the shark, it makes you crazy.

Death has made me crazy and I have not even eaten it. Today, I buried the mask in the frozen sand. Eskimo Summer is long gone and everyone is waiting out the dead of winter. Cabin fever is running high and everyone can not wait for the first thaw. I spend a lot of time in front of the fire, I am not cold, and in fact I am burning up. I refuse to ice fish. My mother tells me I will have to leave when springs comes. I think, not to worry, spring is not coming, winter is not leaving, death is here to stay. It will probably be the best thing for me; the leaving may make a man of me yet. I am not holding my breath. And I am not diving anymore.

Spring

I am camped on the Canadian-American border. In last night's dream, the shark told me if I cross the border, do not bother ever coming back, you will never find me. I have lost death and now I feel like a man. It is too new a feeling to know if I like it yet or not. The diver's friend is living in Coos Bay, Oregon. I will go there and tell her that losing death is like gaining a new life. I wonder if she still dives. I will miss her if she does. If she does not, maybe we can go hiking or something. Maybe we can be friends or something. When I see her, I hope I do not see the diver's face in her eyes. Maybe I will see mine or something.

PVN&TR STAFF