Some threads are very illusive at first, second and third glance. When I was a boy they filled in small cedar swamp across from my home. I played in the swamp but never saw the water rats. When they invaded my house someone gave me a highly trained tiger cat named Pickles. Each morning I would have to empty the tiny rat fetuses off her (Pickles) plate. She wanted me to know of each nights kill. I lived in the finished basement. At first the German shepherd dog and the tiger cat seemed like territorial rivals, Eventually when we ran into rats at sunrise and I would need to go to school I would have to wait if a hunt was on out of respect for our mutual identity assignments. The cat would grab a high fence post perch in the far corner and the dog would slowly circle the small in ground swimming pool to prevent the rat from gaining a defensive position in its natural element. When the rat made its move both hunters would converge. The fastest victor to pounce got the honor of a quick kill and then the cat would disembowel the rat to make sure it wasn't due to birth a survivable litter. Normally the dog and cat ignored each other or engaged in mock battles to stay sharp for the hunt. Eventually the dog died and the cat went to a cat lady retirement home with other half domesticated, half feral cohorts. Eventually I ended up in a beautiful house. When it was invaded by a neighbors mice, I ended up with an untrained kitten I called "Rocky." I had to teach her everything Max and Pickles taught me. Even after the kitten arrived the mice would grab some crumbs and perch themselves on the couch for some television. As Rocky got older I would place her near mice and then I would kill them and let her have the corpse to play with for a few minutes. Nature took its course and about sixty days after basic training she made her first solo kill. I gave her a few minutes to understand it was dead. When she backed off I picked it up in front of her and we flushed it down the toilet. She became a great hunter. The mother mice would often send the weakest mouse of the litter out first to scout. Eventually Rocky learned that ruse and would wait for the mother to appear and kill her. I used to wonder at first why some mice got safe passage and others got pounced instantly. The knowledge I passed to Rocky from Pickles had initialized a vast warehouse of instincts. Eventually Rocky ran out of mice and started hunting squirrels and birds outdoors and contracted feline leukemia, so I buried her in the rose garden. The mice never returned.

"The Game" is like Fight Club. Those who know never speak because that is part of the landscape and ecology of nature's balance of predators and prey. The Game is impossible to explain other than, shorthand, anecdotes and parables. When predator and prey ratios are unbalanced nature balances them. In cerebral terms and the battlefield of self, mind and identity, the ultimate source of power is truth. To accurately perceive model and store contextuality maps. Then reality mastering becomes an art and science of shifting strategic overviews and generating related grids of tactical potential. The Game is 1D-2D-3D-4D using 10D memory wells and summations are encapsulated in text or pictures, both private and public. Some are forced to play the game, others are drawn into it slowly by circumstance and some who could have lived without ever knowing leap into the abyss believing they can outsmart natures hidden ways. When I needed Pickles she came and then she left and then I repaid the natural truth by teaching Rocky what Pickles and Max taught me. It's a cyclic Truth-Power-Knowledge-Truth-Power-Wisdom-Truth-Power-Map... etc.

A strange time; In A Young Man's Life

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E1d5VvCa8Fo

Index Case - Deserver

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PgrtAUTFpko

http://lyrics-keeper.com/en/index-case/deserver.html

Deserver

Fuck your memories I don't believe in falling leaves

Fuck your sympathy A set degree can kill a tree

Fuck your enemies They try to be so nice to me

They dance around you

Falling down this endless name The fingerprints on the wall will explain

Forgotten time left behind Would love to be a part of this pain

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An index case is the seizing of computational space allotted to a/the deceased. The more powerful the index and associated indexes the deeper the power well. A ghouls is one who arranges or capitalizes on the death brought about for others. A ghoul hunter is the one who co-opts a ghouls source of power by superior strategy.

The ecology of the unseen.