Log 19-07-13

July 18, 2013

Estate Management: I must begin manuring the lower section. I must do it tomorrow – I will start with 5. Or maybe 10 will be better – this routine will I hope be form of mental therapy to level out my deteriorating health – along with the theoretical possibility that I beginning lose it all.

I am deeply convinced I am dying from within. I am not being able to sleep well. My appetite is non existent. And I am even beginning to wear only camouflage as it allows me to go days without having to laundry my clothes – I am neglecting hygiene – this I am able to accomplish very sensibly and even logically why it makes perfect sense for me to wear the same underwear for four consecutive days – side A, the side B. Reverse it and start all over again. Pity I can wear my undies side ways, or it could even last eight days.

What concerns me is how I am able to rationalize with remarkable ease the wisdom of wearing my briefs for four consecutive days – if a rash came. I am sure it would have prompted some part of my brain to junk the idea – but so far, it’s all well and fine down there.

Another reason why I believe that I am losing my mental stability is this morning – the gardener found me sleeping in the front section of the birdhouse. I went there at 7. Slightly too late for me to spot the birds flying off before the sound system kicks in – by the time I went there, it had been going a full ten – so that was a failed attempt to monitor the bird population in the BH.

I decided to lie down on my camp bed – I remember feeling sad that there were no birds – then I slept – that part is fine.

But when I sleep, the alpha dog Praetoria the doberman pitcher will always be on combat mode – this mode means he will treat everyone as a threat to me and kill if the person touches me – it doesn’t matter even whether Praetoria sees the gardener everyday and his wife feeds him twice a day – in combat mode praetoria would have killed Ah Kee – fortunately, the gardener was discreet and did not approach me to wake me up even when the sun was directly above me – the source of here is – why didn’t I wake up when Praetoria barked when the gardener approaches the gate – instead I slept through it all. Had Siti being there, she would have neared me and placed an umbrella over me – or perhaps she would have woken me up as I was sleeping with my sunglasses and field boots on – something which I never ever do – not even for a siesta.

Tomorrow I need to chain Praetoria and Richie up – the gardener and especially Vun’s wife will wonder why – they like the idea of the dogs protecting them when they work in the front section – I will tell them that they have ticks and need to be quarantined – the rest of the dogs do not pose a threat, they are just foot soldiers.

Why didn’t I wake up on the first bark? How is it possible for me to have slept through the entire incident? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE!

The other reason that convinces me something is seriously wrong with my head is my recent erratic archery that I now find both a labor and a source of exasperation – despite my best efforts to nail down the cause for my erratic hits have yielded zero – my bow is perfect, it tuned specifically by a formula that I developed specifically for a plantation theatre – poundage is set low deliberately to facilitate repeated shots and eliminate porpoising of the flight of the arrow – yardage corresponds to the number of trees that I stand from the target – in a plantation yardage is a child’s play – one doesn’t require complex sniper trajectory calculations along with the complexity of windage and elevation – a distance of 5 palms from the target translates into roughly 100 feet. As each palm is separated from another by a distance of 20 feet / give or take a few feet. That means that a skilled archer would have very little trouble hitting a target the size of a saucer from even a distance of 70 meters. Beyond that is the stuff of Hollywood Rambo mania – 70 meters is good to go in a plantation. As with a well selected and correctly grained arrow, one should be able to find the mark speedily.

In my opinion the bow is the ultimate first strike wonder weapon – between a bow and a shot gun in even full moon, it has no equal providing the other side doesn’t have FLIR – I found this out as my enemies engaged professionals to get me out – Thai’s who usually come over this time of the year to steal valuable perfume wood from the virgin jungle this time of the year – but with FLIR. I discovered, there is 3 ways to fool the operator (as it is impossible to fool that machine) – the operator is the weak link – in the dry season, 3. Wet, 4 plus minus one or two depending on terrain, vegetation and height of trees.

Most importantly besides accuracy, judgement of elevation and yardage should be accomplished with a split second – that is to say, when the target presents itself (even a moving target) – the bow hunter must be able to calculate the yardage, select the right aiming pin, nock the arrow, cycle back, release and hit a target the size of a 50 cent coin from at least 40 yards – that is what it takes for one man to take out ten goons armed to the teeth trying to take a man out with a dog.

Boil it down – if the bow hunter cannot loose an arrow within three seconds and hit the target dead on – he’s no good. If he can only get 6 or 7 inches up or down or side ways – he’s fucked. Even if he delays 1 or 2 seconds in his yardage and elevation calculation he is double fucked – which mean his ability to control the outcome of a battle goes down to zero.

These days all I even seem to be having a problem hitting a barn door.

When all these observations are combined – I can only assume the worst case scenario – both my mental and physical state is deteriorating much more rapidly than I first imagined – I may look fine and well from the outside, but deep down….I am damaged goods.

I need to be mindful of this reality – I cannot allow my ego to assume that all is well and fine just because I want to feel macho – I need to be honest with myself and try my very best to put myself into a regimen of constant work instead of mulling on this whole business.

This will be my priority. Without the cold and calculating weapon of my mind – I cannot possibly survive for long – with enemies who are even prepared to slip drugs into my benign drinks when they know I am just about to take a long drive – I cannot be complacent and assume that I can trust myself any longer.

I simply cannot – what I wonder would have happened if it was Siti instead of Ah Kee?

I need to do all this without the truth leaking out from my character that I am slowly and inexorably dying from within. No one must know…..no one except me.

– I must do these there things.

(a) Write a list of what I need to do tomorrow the day before.

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