7 February 2026

Gosh, I am stiff and tired today. Cleaning carpets is heavy work.

I am using a little cantilevering to prop my painting up in front of me. It's working pretty well, so I am feeling so clever.

Samsung screens are too vibrant. They hurt my eyes even on the dimmest setting. This iPad screen is much better, an old iPad 2. The battery is still going well after 16 years. But I can only use it for reading and journaling at the moment. It can't browse anymore; it gets overwhelmed very quickly.

I am listening to rain sounds on one of those portable JBL speakers. They make lovely sound. But I am no audiophile.

I wanted to get very loud speakers I could use for revenge on my neighbours, but they have calmed down a lot recently.

My mind is full of products.

I sit here contemplating while other people starve, though I have never seen someone dying of starvation around here in all the 45 years I have lived here. In fact, everyone seems very well fed. It's only the druggies that seem a bit on the thin side.

There is, or was, famine in Zimbabwe, but the population did not decrease at all. No consequences for bad voting because of foreign aid.

They thought a black government would treat them better—idiots.

I have been reading Peter Godwin's 'Mukiwa'. They used demographics to push the white government out. They bred like rabbits and then claimed rule by majority. Then, because there were so many, the whole thing went awry, didn't it?

Is that going to happen here in South Africa? Is the ANC going to drive everything into the ground and then ask for bailouts? That seems to be their pattern.

Who from? Iran? China? Russia?

... Who will send the foreign aid? The USA and Europe, more likely.

And the ANC will get away with it again. They are laughing at us whities. I am sure of it.

11 February 2026

I go into the cloud of unknowing, and I dance in it. I am a Cloud Dancer. I fly through it. I fly fast.

Do you see the dark speck with the comet tail? That's me.

I see a few others have joined me today. I wonder what God is saying to them?

This cloud is not crowded. I don't have to compete here. There seem to be a lot of people on the sides pressing to try and get in, but they haven't been able to yet.

It's an amazing feeling, to fly through this cloud.

I don't want to break this stable, unified image.

On this subtly coloured surface I can see the noise that my vision apparatus adds, the noise my eyes add to my vision.

But there is shocking abuse. A typical thing for a prophet to say. Abuse of what? The cloud?

Do you want us to build data centres in space? Do you want machines to start making other machines, AI robots to make other AI robots? Making humans obsolete. Replacing the clumsy puppets of Satan (that's us) with machines he can control fully.

When will God intervene? Is He intervening already? In ways that go beneath the radar?

Is Musk stopping to ask whether or not you want him to do it?

The hexagons of light are flashing, undulating, in many colours—from purple to red to yellow to white—against the dark expanse (axe, ace) of space.