18 Burst results for "One Sensation"
The Officer Tatum Show
"one sensation" Discussed on The Officer Tatum Show
"Ladies and gentlemen, general ladies, welcome back to the offset of the show. I'm your host grant and Tatum follow me on social media at the office of Tatum website the acetate of dot com. Ladies and gentlemen, let's get back to what I was talking about. I had a gentleman on and he was saying that there was a someone on a police department achieved a sheriff because chiefs don't get elected. He's a sheriff that he could be in the combat and he is he perpetuated a hate crime. Okay, deputy Moore, welcome back to the off state show. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. So let me hone in the conversation because I want to make it quick. So you're saying that there was an image of a black man lynched hanging on a crane or some type of lift mechanism and you believe that the chief or certain police officer certain deputies in a precinct perpetuated that particular imagery. I can demonstrate proved that if they didn't perpetrated, they didn't properly investigate it because you know police protocol would have required conducting a forensic examination of the crime scene by extracting available prints and tracing them to a source. That was not done. It would have came back to one of the 28 roster individuals at this close facility, all of whom we had submitted to pre employment background checks, which meant that we maintain prints on file. Rather than performing the due diligence associated with a proper police investigation, the department actually fired me for being the whistleblower bringing it to public light and contacting the FBI after I made my required reporting protocols within the department, knowing the department would cover it up. I called the FBI and here's why the share of perpetrated the a crab. The incident. Hold on hold on one second. Hold on one second, sir. I want to take it. Why did the reasoning that they gave for firing you? What did they say on your paperwork when they fired you? Well, it was actually involved in a created case. I thought you'd information relative to any existing IED matter that pertained to me one year prior to my termination and it was a number that had a suffix of zero three O two. They actually fired me for a number that was Suffolk zero 5 6 three. A demonstrably created case that is currently residing in federal court at this time, which will be overturned and eventually I will reap the benefits, the lucrative tort benefits associated with an appropriate lawsuit filing, which is already occurred. But here's how they cover. Okay, in the next 30 seconds, you got to give it to me in 30 seconds. How did the sheriff committed hate crime? The department dispatched a lieutenant and a sergeant to the scene rather than conducting an investigation and reference to the black mannequin. They substituted the crime scene and investigated a white mannequin. And they left the black mannequin in that location for another 9 days. Absent and investigatory motivation. No yellow crime scene tape or anything was placed around it. It didn't await the coming of a forensic examiner. It was if you display your Christmas tree for 9 days to celebrate Christmas. If you display a hate crime, a disgusting hate crime targeting black ethnicity for 9 days, you're uncontroversially celebrating white supremacy, you know advance, but about it. Deputy Moore, deputy Moore, you said there were two, there was two mannequins or just the one black mannequin. There were two one was located approximately 50 yards from the first. And they were well aware of the existence of the first because of lieutenant actually responded to the first. So they knew it's okay. Okay, but was both mannequins black no, sir. What mannequin was clearly black complexed, one mannequin was clearly white complexed. One man. Were they both hanging? No, the mannequin that was white was seated next to a guard shack. On the promise on the premise, about 50 odds you moved from the first scene. The first matter was laying supine on his back with a 45 caliber bullet hole in the center of his chest, his right hand popped it as he found and it makeshift noose around his neck on a hydraulic lift that clearly bore the sheriff's department emblem of the Cook County sheriff's department, which is the second largest sheriff's body in the United States. So how did that imagery make you feel? Well, actually, it made me cry because when I drove by it and the squad car, my first sensation was a WTF. It was a reality check. I didn't want to believe I saw what I saw, because no one expects to live their life, no one expects to live their life and see something of that type unless it's depicted on television. So then due diligence required me to turn around and patrol back, I got out and I photographed the scene, I had to cheer my eye because my sister did a family union research history and found out in 2014. She found this information out that we had a relative who was killed in that fashion in 1933 in Mariana Arkansas. And we could actually identify his grave. So it wasn't like I was deputy Moore. I don't mean to cut you off. I have to go to the break soon, but give your information to my call taker and I'll try to follow up with you. I'm interested in the scene and hearing more about this story. I appreciate you calling in. Yes, sir, I appreciate you allowing me to form and I'll be willing to provide information. There's actually a 30 minute segment where I reveal, this is the cliff note version where I reveal the 30 minute version of TV station here in Chicago that was the only one that was willing to take the story. Everybody else suppressed it. All right, perfect, perfect. Thank you. Thank you, deputy. I'm sorry to happen to you, and I appreciate you coming on, give me the information. Yeah, y'all take your stuff down and I love to hear from them here soon. Running out of time, I want to get one more call in before I go to the break. Fred from San Francisco, California, there we go. San Francisco, welcome to the show. Real quick. I only got a minute. Big fan. So first of all, the thing that's strange about Pelosi. One thing you mentioned, but reader, hey, he's in the bathroom making a photo. It has a lock. Why would he ever leave that? Number two, nobody's ever asked, how do we guide his underwear get from Albany in the east bay? To Pelosi's house. It's far from the Bart shuts at 12. Makes no sense. You don't have a mask, you don't get into an Uber. How is he going to get over there? There's got to be videos that him getting there. That's what suspicious. How did he get there two 30 in the morning? Accomplice? Or was he brought there by some of it? And they also mentioned a third person who opened the door. They never mentioned that person's name. All right, free. Fred, thank you so much for calling in. I gotta run to the break. I think they debunked the underwear thing in the third person. I think they recanted and said that there was no third person that they weren't in there underwear, but we don't know what's the truth and what's not the truth until we get the video evidence. Ladies and gentlemen, you
History That Doesn't Suck
"one sensation" Discussed on History That Doesn't Suck
"Raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of the Hun had not completely sunk to their later degradation, so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration, do us as naval prisoners. So liberal indeed was the discipline of our captors that 5 days after we were taken, I managed to escape alone in a small boat, with water and provisions for a good length of time. When I finally found myself adrift in free, I had but little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing. And no island or coastline was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun. Waiting either for some passing ship or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastness of unbroken blue. The change happened will stay slept. Its details, I shall never know. For my slumber, though troubled and dream infested was continuous. When at last I awake, it was to discover myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire, which extended about me and monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away. Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so prodigious and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished. For there was, in the air and in the rotting soil, a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was putrid with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things, which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plane. Perhaps I should not hope to convey and mere words, the unutterable hideousness that can dwell and absolute silence and bear an immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime. Yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseated fear. The sun was blazing down from the sky, which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty. As though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat, I realized that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface exposing regions, which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean. Strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea foul to prey upon the dead things. For several hours, I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side, and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for traveling purposes in a short time. That night, I slept but little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparatory to an overland journey in search of the vanished sea impossible rescue. On the third morning, I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The odor of the fish was maddening. But I was too much concerned with graver things to mine so slight and evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day, I forged steadily westward, guided by a faraway hummock, which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night, I encamped and on the following day still traveled toward the hummock, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first espied it. By the fourth evening, I attained the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance. An intervening valley, setting it out in sharper relief from the general surface. Two weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill. I know not why my dreams were so wild that night. But air the waning and fantastically give us moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon, I saw how unwise I had been to travel by day. Without the glare of the parching sun, my journey would have cost me less energy. Indeed, I now felt quite able to perform the ascent, which had deterred me at sunset. Picking up my pack. I started for the crest of the eminence. I have said that the unbroken monotony of the rolling plane was a source of vague horror to me. But I think my horror was greater when I gained the summit of the mound and looked down the other side into an immeasurable pit or canyon whose black recesses the moon had not yet soared high enough to illumine. I felt myself on the edge of the world peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise lost. And of Satan's hideous climb through the on fashioned realms of darkness. As the moon climbed higher in the sky, I began to see that the slopes of the valley were not quite so perpendicular as I had imagined. Ledges and outcroppings of rock afforded fairly easy footholds for a descent. Whilst, after a drop of a few hundred feet, the declivity became very gradual. Urged on by an impulse, which I can not definitely analyze, I scrambled with difficulty down the rocks and stood on the gentler slope beneath, gazing into the stygian deeps where no light had yet penetrated. All at once, my attention was captured by a vast and singular object on the opposite slope, which rose steeply about a hundred yards ahead of me. An object that gleamed widely in the newly bestowed rays of the ascending moon. That it was merely a gigantic piece of stone, I soon assured myself. But I was conscious of a distinct impression that its contour and position were not altogether the work of nature. A closer scrutiny filled me with sensations I can not express. For despite its enormous magnitude and its position in an abyss which had yawned at the bottom of the sea since the world was young, I perceived beyond a doubt that the strange object was a well shaped monolith, whose massive bulk had known the workmanship and perhaps the worship of living and thinking creatures. Dazed and frightened, yet not without a certain thrill of the scientists or archeologists delight. I examined my surroundings more closely. The moon now near the zenith, shown weirdly and vividly above the towering steeps that hemmed in the chasm, and revealed the fact that a far flung body of water flowed at the bottom. Winding out of sight in both directions and almost lapping my feet as I stood on the slope.
History That Doesn't Suck
"one sensation" Discussed on History That Doesn't Suck
"Though never fully realize why it is that I must have forgetfulness or death. It was in one of the most open and least frequented parts of the broad Pacific that the packet of which I was super cargo fell a victim to the German sea raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of the Hun had not completely sunk to their later degradation, so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration, do us as naval prisoners. So liberal indeed was the discipline of our captors that 5 days after we were taken, I managed to escape alone in a small boat, with water and provisions for a good length of time. When I finally found myself adrift in free, I had but little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing. And no island or coastline was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun. Waiting either for some passing ship or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastness of unbroken blue. The change happened will stay slept. Its details, I shall never know. For my slumber, though troubled and dream infested was continuous. When at last I awake, it was to discover myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire, which extended about me and monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away. Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so prodigious and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished. For there was, in the air and in the rotting soil, a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was putrid with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things, which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plane. Perhaps I should not hope to convey and mere words, the unutterable hideousness that can dwell and absolute silence and bear an immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime. Yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseated fear. The sun was blazing down from the sky, which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty. As though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat, I realized that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface exposing regions, which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean. Strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea foul to prey upon the dead things. For several hours, I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side, and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for traveling purposes in a short time. That night, I slept but little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparatory to an overland journey in search of the vanished sea impossible rescue. On the third morning, I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The odor of the fish was maddening. But I was too much concerned with graver things to mine so slight and evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day, I forged steadily westward, guided by a faraway hummock, which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night, I encamped and on the following day still traveled toward the hummock, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first espied it. By the fourth evening, I attained the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance. An intervening valley, setting it out in sharper relief from the general surface. Two weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill. I know not why my dreams were so wild that night. But air the waning and fantastically give us moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon, I saw how unwise I had been to travel by day. Without the glare of the parching sun, my journey would have cost me less energy. Indeed, I now felt quite able to perform the ascent, which had deterred me at sunset. Picking up my pack. I started for the crest of the eminence. I have said that the unbroken monotony of the rolling plane was a source of vague horror to me. But I think my horror was greater when I gained the summit of the mound and looked down the other side into an immeasurable pit or canyon whose black recesses the moon had not yet soared high enough to illumine. I felt myself on the edge of the world peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise lost. And of Satan's hideous climb through the on fashioned realms of darkness. As the moon climbed higher in the sky, I began to see that the slopes of the valley were not quite so perpendicular as I had imagined. Ledges and outcroppings of rock afforded fairly easy footholds for a descent. Whilst, after a drop of a few hundred feet, the declivity became very gradual. Urged on by an impulse, which I can not definitely analyze, I scrambled with difficulty down the rocks and stood on the gentler slope beneath, gazing into the stygian deeps where no light had yet penetrated. All
History That Doesn't Suck
"one sensation" Discussed on History That Doesn't Suck
"Though never fully realize why it is that I must have forgetfulness or death. It was in one of the most open and least frequented parts of the broad Pacific that the packet of which I was super cargo fell a victim to the German sea raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of the Hun had not completely sunk to their later degradation, so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration, do us as naval prisoners. So liberal indeed was the discipline of our captors that 5 days after we were taken, I managed to escape alone in a small boat, with water and provisions for a good length of time. When I finally found myself adrift in free, I had but little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing. And no island or coastline was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun. Waiting either for some passing ship or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastness of unbroken blue. The change happened will stay slept. Its details, I shall never know. For my slumber, though troubled and dream infested was continuous. When at last I awake, it was to discover myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire, which extended about me and monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away. Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so prodigious and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished. For there was, in the air and in the rotting soil, a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was putrid with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things, which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plane. Perhaps I should not hope to convey and mere words, the unutterable hideousness that can dwell and absolute silence and bear an immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime. Yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseated fear. The sun was blazing down from the sky, which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty. As though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat, I realized that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface exposing regions, which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean. Strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea foul to prey upon the dead things. For several hours, I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side, and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for traveling purposes in a short time. That night, I slept but little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparatory to an overland journey in search of the vanished sea impossible rescue. On the third morning, I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The odor of the fish was maddening. But I was too much concerned with graver things to mine so slight and evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day, I forged steadily westward, guided by a faraway hummock, which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night, I encamped and on the following day still traveled toward the hummock, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first espied it. By the fourth evening, I attained the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance. An intervening valley, setting it out in sharper relief from the general surface. Two weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill. I know not why my dreams were so wild that night. But air the waning and fantastically give us moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon, I saw how unwise I had been to travel by day. Without the glare of the parching sun, my journey would have cost me less energy. Indeed, I now felt quite able to perform the ascent, which had deterred me at sunset. Picking up my pack. I started for the crest of the eminence. I have said that the unbroken monotony of the rolling plane was a source of vague horror to me. But I think my horror was greater when I gained the summit of the mound and looked down the other side into an immeasurable pit or canyon whose black recesses the moon had not yet soared high enough to illumine. I felt myself on the edge of the world peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise lost. And of Satan's hideous climb through the on fashioned realms of darkness. As the moon climbed higher in the sky, I began to see that the slopes of the valley were not quite so perpendicular as I had imagined. Ledges and outcroppings of rock afforded fairly easy footholds for a descent. Whilst, after a drop of a few hundred feet, the declivity became very gradual. Urged on by an impulse, which I can not definitely analyze, I scrambled with difficulty down the rocks and stood on the gentler slope beneath, gazing into the stygian deeps where no light had yet penetrated. All
History That Doesn't Suck
"one sensation" Discussed on History That Doesn't Suck
"Scrawled pages, you may guess, though never fully realize why it is that I must have forgetfulness or death. It was in one of the most open and least frequented parts of the broad Pacific that the packet of which I was super cargo fell a victim to the German sea raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of the Hun had not completely sunk to their later degradation, so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration, do us as naval prisoners. So liberal indeed was the discipline of our captors that 5 days after we were taken, I managed to escape alone in a small boat, with water and provisions for a good length of time. When I finally found myself adrift in free, I had but little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing. And no island or coastline was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun. Waiting either for some passing ship or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastness of unbroken blue. The change happened will stay slept. Its details, I shall never know. For my slumber, though troubled and dream infested was continuous. When at last I awake, it was to discover myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire, which extended about me and monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away. Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so prodigious and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished. For there was, in the air and in the rotting soil, a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was putrid with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things, which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plane. Perhaps I should not hope to convey and mere words, the unutterable hideousness that can dwell and absolute silence and bear an immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime. Yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseated fear. The sun was blazing down from the sky, which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty. As though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat, I realized that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface exposing regions, which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean. Strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea foul to prey upon the dead things. For several hours, I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side, and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for traveling purposes in a short time. That night, I slept but little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparatory to an overland journey in search of the vanished sea impossible rescue. On the third morning, I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The odor of the fish was maddening. But I was too much concerned with graver things to mine so slight and evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day, I forged steadily westward, guided by a faraway hummock, which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night, I encamped and on the following day still traveled toward the hummock, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first espied it. By the fourth evening, I attained the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance. An intervening valley, setting it out in sharper relief from the general surface. Two weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill. I know not why my dreams were so wild that night. But air the waning and fantastically give us moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon, I saw how unwise I had been to travel by day. Without the glare of the parching sun, my journey would have cost me less energy. Indeed, I now felt quite able to perform the ascent, which had deterred me at sunset. Picking up my pack. I started for the crest of the eminence. I have said that the unbroken monotony of the rolling plane was a source of vague horror to me. But I think my horror was greater when I gained the summit of the mound and looked down the other side into an immeasurable pit or canyon whose black recesses the moon had not yet soared high enough to illumine. I felt myself on the edge of the world peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise lost. And of Satan's hideous climb through the on fashioned realms of darkness. As the moon climbed higher in the sky, I began to see that the slopes of the valley were not quite so perpendicular as I had imagined. Ledges and outcroppings of rock afforded fairly easy footholds for a descent. Whilst, after a drop of a few hundred feet, the declivity became very gradual. Urged on by an impulse, which I can not definitely analyze, I scrambled with difficulty down the rocks and stood on the gentler slope beneath, gazing into the stygian deeps where no light had yet penetrated.
History That Doesn't Suck
"one sensation" Discussed on History That Doesn't Suck
"Scrawled pages, you may guess, though never fully realize why it is that I must have forgetfulness or death. It was in one of the most open and least frequented parts of the broad Pacific that the packet of which I was super cargo fell a victim to the German sea raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of the Hun had not completely sunk to their later degradation, so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration, do us as naval prisoners. So liberal indeed was the discipline of our captors that 5 days after we were taken, I managed to escape alone in a small boat, with water and provisions for a good length of time. When I finally found myself adrift in free, I had but little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing. And no island or coastline was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun. Waiting either for some passing ship or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastness of unbroken blue. The change happened will stay slept. Its details, I shall never know. For my slumber, though troubled and dream infested was continuous. When at last I awake, it was to discover myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire, which extended about me and monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away. Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so prodigious and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished. For there was, in the air and in the rotting soil, a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was putrid with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things, which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plane. Perhaps I should not hope to convey and mere words, the unutterable hideousness that can dwell and absolute silence and bear an immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime. Yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseated fear. The sun was blazing down from the sky, which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty. As though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat, I realized that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface exposing regions, which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean. Strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea foul to prey upon the dead things. For several hours, I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side, and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for traveling purposes in a short time. That night, I slept but little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparatory to an overland journey in search of the vanished sea impossible rescue. On the third morning, I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The odor of the fish was maddening. But I was too much concerned with graver things to mine so slight and evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day, I forged steadily westward, guided by a faraway hummock, which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night, I encamped and on the following day still traveled toward the hummock, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first espied it. By the fourth evening, I attained the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance. An intervening valley, setting it out in sharper relief from the general surface. Two weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill. I know not why my dreams were so wild that night. But air the waning and fantastically give us moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon, I saw how unwise I had been to travel by day. Without the glare of the parching sun, my journey would have cost me less energy. Indeed, I now felt quite able to perform the ascent, which had deterred me at sunset. Picking up my pack. I started for the crest of the eminence. I have said that the unbroken monotony of the rolling plane was a source of vague horror to me. But I think my horror was greater when I gained the summit of the mound and looked down the other side into an immeasurable pit or canyon whose black recesses the moon had not yet soared high enough to illumine. I felt myself on the edge of the world peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise lost. And of Satan's hideous climb through the on fashioned realms of darkness. As the moon climbed higher in the sky, I began to see that the slopes of the valley were not quite so perpendicular as I had imagined. Ledges and outcroppings of rock afforded fairly easy footholds for a descent. Whilst, after a drop of a few hundred feet, the declivity became very gradual. Urged on by an impulse, which I can not definitely analyze, I scrambled with difficulty down the rocks and stood on the gentler slope beneath, gazing into the stygian deeps where no light had yet penetrated.
History That Doesn't Suck
"one sensation" Discussed on History That Doesn't Suck
"The torture no longer. And shall cast myself from this Garret window into the squalid street below. Do not think from my slavery to morphine that I am a weakling, or a degenerate. When you have red, these hastily scrawled pages, you may guess, though never fully realize why it is that I must have forgetfulness or death. It was in one of the most open and least frequented parts of the broad Pacific that the packet of which I was super cargo fell a victim to the German sea raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of the Hun had not completely sunk to their later degradation, so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration, do us as naval prisoners. So liberal indeed was the discipline of our captors that 5 days after we were taken, I managed to escape alone in a small boat, with water and provisions for a good length of time. When I finally found myself adrift in free, I had but little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing. And no island or coastline was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun. Waiting either for some passing ship or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastness of unbroken blue. The change happened will stay slept. Its details, I shall never know. For my slumber, though troubled and dream infested was continuous. When at last I awake, it was to discover myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire, which extended about me and monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away. Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so prodigious and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished. For there was, in the air and in the rotting soil, a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was putrid with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things, which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plane. Perhaps I should not hope to convey and mere words, the unutterable hideousness that can dwell and absolute silence and bear an immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime. Yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseated fear. The sun was blazing down from the sky, which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty. As though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat, I realized that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface exposing regions, which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean. Strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea foul to prey upon the dead things. For several hours, I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side, and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for traveling purposes in a short time. That night, I slept but little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparatory to an overland journey in search of the vanished sea impossible rescue. On the third morning, I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The odor of the fish was maddening. But I was too much concerned with graver things to mine so slight and evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day, I forged steadily westward, guided by a faraway hummock, which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night, I encamped and on the following day still traveled toward the hummock, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first espied it. By the fourth evening, I attained the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance. An intervening valley, setting it out in sharper relief from the general surface. Two weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill. I know not why my dreams were so wild that night. But air the waning and fantastically give us moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon, I saw how unwise I had been to travel by day. Without the glare of the parching sun, my journey would have cost me less energy. Indeed, I now felt quite able to perform the ascent, which had deterred me at sunset. Picking up my pack. I started for the crest of the eminence. I have said that the unbroken monotony of the rolling plane was a source of vague horror to me. But I think my horror was greater when I gained the summit of the mound and looked down the other side into an immeasurable pit or canyon whose black recesses the moon had not yet soared high enough to illumine. I felt myself on the edge of the world peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise lost. And of Satan's hideous climb through the on fashioned realms of darkness. As the moon climbed higher in the sky, I began to see that the slopes of the valley were not quite so perpendicular as I had imagined. Ledges and outcroppings of rock afforded fairly easy footholds for a descent. Whilst, after a drop of a few hundred feet, the declivity became very gradual. Urged on by an impulse, which I can not definitely analyze, I scrambled with difficulty down the rocks and stood on the gentler slope beneath, gazing into the stygian deeps where no light had yet
History That Doesn't Suck
"one sensation" Discussed on History That Doesn't Suck
"Longer. And shall cast myself from this Garret window into the squalid street below. Do not think from my slavery to morphine that I am a weakling, or a degenerate. When you have red, these hastily scrawled pages, you may guess, though never fully realize why it is that I must have forgetfulness or death. It was in one of the most open and least frequented parts of the broad Pacific that the packet of which I was super cargo fell a victim to the German sea raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of the Hun had not completely sunk to their later degradation, so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration, do us as naval prisoners. So liberal indeed was the discipline of our captors that 5 days after we were taken, I managed to escape alone in a small boat, with water and provisions for a good length of time. When I finally found myself adrift in free, I had but little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing. And no island or coastline was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun. Waiting either for some passing ship or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastness of unbroken blue. The change happened will stay slept. Its details, I shall never know. For my slumber, though troubled and dream infested was continuous. When at last I awake, it was to discover myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire, which extended about me and monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away. Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so prodigious and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished. For there was, in the air and in the rotting soil, a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was putrid with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things, which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plane. Perhaps I should not hope to convey and mere words, the unutterable hideousness that can dwell and absolute silence and bear an immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime. Yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseated fear. The sun was blazing down from the sky, which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty. As though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat, I realized that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface exposing regions, which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean. Strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea foul to prey upon the dead things. For several hours, I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side, and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for traveling purposes in a short time. That night, I slept but little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparatory to an overland journey in search of the vanished sea impossible rescue. On the third morning, I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The odor of the fish was maddening. But I was too much concerned with graver things to mine so slight and evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day, I forged steadily westward, guided by a faraway hummock, which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night, I encamped and on the following day still traveled toward the hummock, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first espied it. By the fourth evening, I attained the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance. An intervening valley, setting it out in sharper relief from the general surface. Two weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill. I know not why my dreams were so wild that night. But air the waning and fantastically give us moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon, I saw how unwise I had been to travel by day. Without the glare of the parching sun, my journey would have cost me less energy. Indeed, I now felt quite able to perform the ascent, which had deterred me at sunset. Picking up my pack. I started for the crest of the eminence. I have said that the unbroken monotony of the rolling plane was a source of vague horror to me. But I think my horror was greater when I gained the summit of the mound and looked down the other side into an immeasurable pit or canyon whose black recesses the moon had not yet soared high enough to illumine. I felt myself on the edge of the world peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise lost. And of Satan's hideous climb through the on fashioned realms of darkness. As the moon climbed higher in the sky, I began to see that the slopes of the valley were not quite so perpendicular as I had imagined. Ledges and outcroppings of rock afforded fairly easy footholds for a descent. Whilst, after a drop of a few hundred feet, the declivity became very gradual. Urged on by an impulse, which I can not definitely analyze, I scrambled with difficulty down the rocks and stood on the gentler slope beneath, gazing into the stygian deeps where no light had yet
History That Doesn't Suck
"one sensation" Discussed on History That Doesn't Suck
"I can bear the torture no longer. And shall cast myself from this Garret window into the squalid street below. Do not think from my slavery to morphine that I am a weakling, or a degenerate. When you have red, these hastily scrawled pages, you may guess, though never fully realize why it is that I must have forgetfulness or death. It was in one of the most open and least frequented parts of the broad Pacific that the packet of which I was super cargo fell a victim to the German sea raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of the Hun had not completely sunk to their later degradation, so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration, do us as naval prisoners. So liberal indeed was the discipline of our captors that 5 days after we were taken, I managed to escape alone in a small boat, with water and provisions for a good length of time. When I finally found myself adrift in free, I had but little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing. And no island or coastline was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun. Waiting either for some passing ship or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastness of unbroken blue. The change happened will stay slept. Its details, I shall never know. For my slumber, though troubled and dream infested was continuous. When at last I awake, it was to discover myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire, which extended about me and monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away. Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so prodigious and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished. For there was, in the air and in the rotting soil, a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was putrid with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things, which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plane. Perhaps I should not hope to convey and mere words, the unutterable hideousness that can dwell and absolute silence and bear an immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime. Yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseated fear. The sun was blazing down from the sky, which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty. As though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat, I realized that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface exposing regions, which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean. Strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea foul to prey upon the dead things. For several hours, I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side, and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for traveling purposes in a short time. That night, I slept but little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparatory to an overland journey in search of the vanished sea impossible rescue. On the third morning, I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The odor of the fish was maddening. But I was too much concerned with graver things to mine so slight and evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day, I forged steadily westward, guided by a faraway hummock, which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night, I encamped and on the following day still traveled toward the hummock, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first espied it. By the fourth evening, I attained the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance. An intervening valley, setting it out in sharper relief from the general surface. Two weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill. I know not why my dreams were so wild that night. But air the waning and fantastically give us moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon, I saw how unwise I had been to travel by day. Without the glare of the parching sun, my journey would have cost me less energy. Indeed, I now felt quite able to perform the ascent, which had deterred me at sunset. Picking up my pack. I started for the crest of the eminence. I have said that the unbroken monotony of the rolling plane was a source of vague horror to me. But I think my horror was greater when I gained the summit of the mound and looked down the other side into an immeasurable pit or canyon whose black recesses the moon had not yet soared high enough to illumine. I felt myself on the edge of the world peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise lost. And of Satan's hideous climb through the on fashioned realms of darkness. As the moon climbed higher in the sky, I began to see that the slopes of the valley were not quite so perpendicular as I had imagined. Ledges and outcroppings of rock afforded fairly easy footholds for a descent. Whilst, after a drop of a few hundred feet, the declivity became very gradual. Urged on by an impulse, which I can not definitely analyze, I
The One You Feed
"one sensation" Discussed on The One You Feed
"When the reality is, investigating them, and you know, a safe space allows us to add context. And the other example that I give in the book, but it really, you know, not surprisingly resonates with me as an athlete that all athletes have to face is think about it when you first got started and you go out the door and you start running, you start lifting weights. That first sensation of pain often you interpreted it as like, oh, what's wrong? Like, am I gonna get injured? Like, I should stop. This hurts a lot. In fact, I was on a podcast not too long ago where someone told me the story of a friend's children who was walking up a hill for the first time, and he was like, dad, my legs feel like they're gonna fall off and the dad's like, what? And he's like, oh, you've never experienced the fatigue of walking up a very steep mountain. It's like, no, your legs aren't gonna fill off. Fall off. But what happens there is often if we haven't ever experienced it and sit with that, we don't know the difference between pain that might mean injury or pain that might mean I'm a little fatigued or pain that might signal maybe I'm running a little on fuel and I need to grab a banana or I'm a little dehydrated and I need to drink a water or drink some water and all of those different nuances send us down a different path and send us down to different signal. But if we don't kind of sit with them and experience them, then it all kind of gets jumbled together. And that's why I think that second part is really important is, you know, whether we're talking about physical psychological or whatever have you discomfort is being intentional and adding context and nuance to things is a vital component we often miss.
The Rich Roll Podcast
"one sensation" Discussed on The Rich Roll Podcast
"To click it when you do the drills to make sure that it's logging your yardage accurately. Yeah, exactly. But because I have such a such a robust background and swimming like I'm pretty connected. Like I know what my kind of effort levels are to achieve that, but if somebody is watching this or listening to it and they're thinking about how they're approaching their training in the pool, how does the conversation around zones apply to that person? That's where we often have an 800 or 600 or 500 at the end of a swim practice, sort of where you jump into your all day pace. We wouldn't do it as much by heart rate, because we're not going to be testing heart rate. But at the end of a workout, let's say you say, all right, I'm just going to no clock or get my time for a 500, but it's got to feel like my go all day swim past. Like I'm going to go swim the next two, three hours at this pace. I would usually suggest at least 500. I personally do a thousand and then that pace gives me a good idea of what my true aerobic zone to swimming pace would be. So for us, let's say, just so that you get a number around it. Let's say it's one 20 right now. One 21. Literally, you're just go all day past. If I had to swim 10,000 straight right now at what effort level would I start? And that's what I'm going to swim that. How is that? Well, over time, we'll notice from that sensation. What we usually know is heart rate when we're outside biking and running. At that time, we'll come down. Same effort level, that it's going down to a one 18. Number one 17. So we keep one sensation the same output level, feel, our PE, and the time improves as we're getting fitter. But we want that at the end of the workout, otherwise our RPE and our sensation is going to be a little bit off. So that's why it's key to burn off the anaerobic juices. And especially muscle glycogen two, and then with those tanks empty, you get a better sense and RPE of what you are truly going on in aerobic pace at. One of the techniques that you have deployed with me over the years that I think is really effective is making sure that your key discipline is being trained under fatigue, right? So in ultraman, you never want to go out and run on fresh legs because that's not going to be the experience at the race. You always want your runs to be on the heels of a very difficult cycling workout or swim workout so that every time you're running your tired. In this case, because it's just one discipline, but it is so long. I suspect at some point during this training cycle, you're going to throw some stuff at me like maybe a difficult ride right before that swim. So how do you think about or what do you have in store for me in terms of stressing me in that way? I love negative split swimming. Where you have to start the first half of whatever it is and make the second half faster. So that you a, you learn your pacing, but B, you really have to dig deep in order to make that second half faster. So you're coming into that second half of those 800s of those thousands of, let's say, 4100s each ten, you're progressing the interval. Things like that where you are coming into the last ten with a pretty good load in on the arms and the body and the whole system. So similarly like that. Now, of course, we can do it cycling, but it's a different type of fatigue. It's actually, in my opinion, a little bit better running. But again, we don't need that for what you're planning to do. I think what you're going to find is long swim workouts and then having a money set as I like to call it at the back end. So let's say you just swim 6000 or 7000 yard workout. And then we do a money set and you're like, oh, really? Putting the main set at the very end of the workout. Exactly. Exactly. And again, that builds confidence that knowing at two hours in, I can still do XYZ, that feels good. Right. One of the things that I always experience and I've shared this in the training logs with you when I start to get back in the water with some consistency is that I begin with one gear. I have an aerobic base, so I can get in and swim back and forth, fine, but the minute I have to ramp it up and do something hard. My arms won't do what my brain is telling them to do because I don't have the strength and to the extent that I can ramp it up a little bit. I can't sustain it for any significant period of time. Like I just completely fall apart. So as we build that aerobic base and start throwing down some tempo sets and descending sets, et cetera, that starts to slowly come together. And then I start paying attention to what we were talking about earlier. How many gears do I have? Can I go to two gears and then three gears and four gears and how much control do I have? If I'm doing a set of descending 100s, can I really lock in and make sure that I'm inching down in time with each one in a consistent way and the better adapted I am to doing that, the more fit I am and the more quickly my body will reset the baseline, particularly on short rest, that's a really good indicator that the fitness is starting to come online. As well as what you're also going to notice is your understanding your feel of pace is going to be critical and open water. So you don't start too hot or too slow on event day. And you want to be able to know what that pace is no matter what. Even if you're hungry, even if you're fatigued, even if you're whatever it is, whatever the burden on you is that you still can click into whatever your open water swim pace is or at least you can feel what one ten is like one 15 is like one 20 is like and so forth. I was talking to somebody today and he's doing a last man standing event. It's going to be critical that you know your pace and the same thing for open water. There's no clock. So you want to be able to just know, okay, I'm swimming pretty well. I can feel my pace is going very well. One of the things that I have to get comfortable with is knowing that I'm going to show up at this race, not as fully prepared as I would like to. And that kicks in a lot of ego stuff, like I don't want to tell the line unless I know that I've put in a 110% and earn the right to be there and have taken it seriously, et cetera. And that's just not the reality of my busy life. So can I show up at 65% or 70%, depending on which. One of my other athletes? I can't and still have fun and let go of all of that other bullshit because who the fuck cares? Exactly. Well, your current 110%. That's the key. That's the key that unlocks this all. You can not compare yourself to 25 year old rich 35 year old rich 45 year old wretch. It's your current 110%. If you feel you did what you could going into this event, it takes so much of a burden of, you can't be somebody different. You can only be you. And your ability to do what you currently can, that's going to be critical. That's showing up with intention because you know this is all I can do. I'm not futzing around watching Netflix all day. I've got a busy life. But when I do show up, I gave it my best and come event day. You will have that to fall back upon. Is there always wishful thinking of, well, back in the day, I could have done this. Of course there is. But you can't be that person again. That's the past and you're going to not enjoy your day and this experience nearly as much if you're stuck in the past version of yourself. Right. I will say that it's a lot less time consuming to just swim than to do all the other nonsense that takes up so much time, you know? It's like especially if you have an hour and a half and I've done for the day and it's just yeah, it's on the way to work or whatever. It's like, that's not so bad. Yeah. The main thing is for me over the next week or so or two weeks is that you really understand what we're doing, why we're doing it and get a good sense of where we're progressing to, right? And like we talked about, we have some longer workouts..
The Charlie Kirk Show
Is God Dead? Making Sense of Nietzsche with Dr. Khalil Habib
"Back by popular demand doctor khalil habib from the beacon of the north the last college. How college is meant to be hillsdale. College you guys can find all things hillsdale. Charlie for hillsdale dot com doctor. Great to see you again. Likewise charlie how you doing. I'm doing great. So i asked you this question right before we got started which actually is a perfect segue into the type of philosophy that nietzsche helped advance or birth. Which is who knows what the truth actually is. How do you pronounce nietzsche either some nietzsche but my teachers always referred to him as So well that's i guess it's the truth isn't it's all real. That's that's the point. That's what i was getting to is. What difference does it make right. It's whoever has more power determines how to pronounce his hard to understand german name. So let's start with it. Is god dead professor. And where did that question come from. Well it took to be a paradox. Because as anyone knows of god by any reasonable definition is eternal so the idea that god is dead is just a paradoxical statement in mutuals intending to get us to reflect on what what he means by that and what he means by that is. He's dead in the hearts and minds of europeans. And what that essentially suggests is that the belief in god existence of god rests on the opinions of the faithful and in the same context in which you see that phrase uttered Major says that god has been replaced by the newspaper. And if you wanna think about what that means when you contrast god who is eternal who gives us a transcendent ideal port which we can aim and be dutiful towards with the newspaper which is essentially ephemeral. What essentially saying is that. The modern world has shifted away from a longing for eternity in greatness in some capacity to here now get immediacy of one's sensations in to the just newspapers to the ephemeral and he thinks that that diminishes man's longing for greatness ultimately impoverishes civil
Lacey & Flynn Have Sex
"one sensation" Discussed on Lacey & Flynn Have Sex
"Something that might really healthy listening is right now. I'm having the internal challenge. Seems to shraga word but something like that where my mind keeps grabbing onto something to focus on instead of allowing the full experience of pleasure to be enough so i keep trying to focus on something and turned into a story line or turn that into an element that i just connect into to spur on the orgasm. And there's nothing wrong with that. It's just. I'm actively choosing at this point in my journey to not develop a storyline and not focused too heavily on one sensation and instead allow the whole journey to to exist in its entirety and then perhaps lead to an orgasm instead of becoming specific needing something specific or holding onto an idea to this is my biggest practice in in insects. One of them have about twenty. Laurie around flynn's going gonna put his hair up. I'm interested to see how he does this. He has one hand. That's just entirely covered pussy in these. I don't know if you can single-handedly to help you. So i'm just realizing that it's actually a such a pleasure for me to just give lacey like a really long extended fingering practice. Fill it. we haven't done this for longtime usually fingerings pot of the journey. But i think we could all learn how to explode policies better with just with fingers and really get into a deeper layer of like pussy intelligence. He s with a sexual sherlock fingers doesn't a little to corkscrew. Happening to put mike back down and explore okay. Very nice it's a very and can you add some moisture around the insurance just that skinner yet. It feels important to pause for a moment and let you know listening that. I had a moment a stretch. There that maybe was thirty seconds. I entered into dissociated state around my body more. I realized that was completely disconnecting from the experience And i recognized that that was happening on the precipice of my enjoyment growing so almost calling the level of enjoyment. Allow the level of pleasure Withdrawing from that perhaps in fear of noisy. I gather how free or what would happen if i allowed myself that level. And you might experienced this without recognizing it. So what i would encourage you to do is to pay attention to when you check out And where it is on your journey. What's happening when you disconnect.
The Unmistakable Creative Podcast
"one sensation" Discussed on The Unmistakable Creative Podcast
"Let's shift here is a little bit. The open the book with the story of your dad and losing your dad in early age and i'm wondering one what's been the impact on your life and the choices that you've made with both your life and your career of not having him be part of your life and what's been the impact of that on your relationship with your mother so a little bit of background and contact so my dad was this like brilliant businessman artists creative. He was like a my mom said he was the smartest man she's ever met and but he also had like very charismatic and addictive personality traits. So it was like cocaine vary into rock and roll. Wanted to be a famous singer songwriter. And so what you know. Whatever the seventies very much into like drugs rock and roll sex all that who knows how many mistresses he had. My mom got pregnant out of wedlock. And when we when i was about three he decided to leave to go pursue his dream in his band called dreamer and there was like i remember when my very first memories and first memories my only my first youngest memory of him. Is this phone. Call where i talked to him on the phone and he. He told me that no matter what he would always love me and it was a few weeks after that that he got behind the wheel under the influence and then only killed his best friend but that ultimately led to his death and he didn't die until Many years later using a coma and then he was in care center but never regain full. Consciousness is basically brain dead. Like more like d-. I always wished he would have just died rather than like being a vegetable and a care center for nine years and so i think the impact as a kid i knew he was like dead but still alive and so there was this always like fascination between three and nine around like where we see. What's going on like he like. I know he got in a bad accident. I know my mom doesn't really wanna talk about it. And so it was like he was there but not there in so i feel like back created a like an absence in a longing for something that i like had but couldn't have and and it was. I think it was like when i was around seven eight or nine when i said to my mom you know i. I like i was going actually. I was going on field trips to hospitals apparently like went up to one of the women and was like hey is my dad here and that's my teacher is like when it had a conversation with my mom was like. Oh boy okay. Time to like really have a serious conversation about this. And so i ended up going to visit him and see him in this care center and you know it was just like this heroine seen of him like with a swollen face connected to all these machines just like not himself in i. In that moment. I was more devastated that that was the state he was in and i really just wanted him to to pass on. And it wasn't too long after when i saw him in person that he did die and the i thought like the first sensation that i thought was like like finally like he can like. I felt this overwhelming sense of gratitude that he could let go and move on but i also was upset that he had so much to give and so many gifts and yet never faced himself and let and let his addictions really lead him..
All Songs Considered
"one sensation" Discussed on All Songs Considered
"That's woman in my heart from the singer songwriter. Mattie diaz manny diaz has been floating around for a while now. This is her fifth album in about the last fifteen or so years. She's done everything from touring with the civil wars to writing songs for other artists. Joining me from nashville to talk about mattie is writer and npr music contributor julie height. Hey julie hey steven is great to have you with us. Julie i have always thought of mattie diaz almost like as kind of like a highly regarded journeymen. I've liked her. Staff rarely sought it out but i have grossly underestimated her. Because this album is freaking superb. It is phenomenal. But i mean to be fair. It is quite a different album than she's ever made before as you mentioned. She's about a decade and a half into her career now so when she first you know started releasing music in the late two thousands. It was that moment you know. Well after the garden state soundtrack and after all of these primetime dramas grey's anatomy. Were really using a lot of singer-songwriter pop to sound for their soundtracks behind pivotal scenes. And so in a way. I mean she kind of fit into that and she made a lot of different kinds of singer songwriter. Pop sometimes leaning more toward folk or more towards danceable stuff But it had been you know at least half a dozen years since she released an album because she she spent some time really focusing on duos and bands and things like that and even kind of doubting her ability to stand on her own as a singer and songwriter When i interviewed her she told me that she thought she might have written as many as two hundred songs in the process of arriving at the eleven that are on this album because she had gone through. You know some some big things in her life and not only the disintegration of a of a relationship but of a relationship with someone that she thought that she might have spent the rest of her life with who she. I knew as a man but in the time that they were together you know began transitioning to live as a woman you know so it was all of these things and all kinds of career disappointments and a move back across the country from la. Back to nashville where she presently lives. And then this kind of self directed songwriting journey of taking up different reflections in feelings and perceptions and moments and then just i feel like chiseling at them until you know she might right twenty different songs about one idea or one sensation until she got at the ones that she chose four this album and in some of these songs she showing us a whole tangle of emotions and feelings and impressions and the song you played woman in my heart Accomplishes that her song nervous. I feel like also. Yeah i mean it contains multitudes you know and i mean she just tells us so much in the songs i mean. She's telling us about longing and avoidance self delusion and really sharp self-awareness at the same time. She's doing that all in one song. I mean that's that is what to me is so phenomenal about. This album. phenomenal is right. That is history of feeling from the singer. Songwriter mattie ds. Thanks so much for joining me. Julie you are so welcome. Let's go.
Southern Tomfoolery Plays
"one sensation" Discussed on Southern Tomfoolery Plays
"In my life real. Why emily i mean it's so how do you usually role though mostly over onto my side so that don't shook them vomit until you guys a story about the town that i got so it was in high school. We were having a party. Grandmother's house sochi wrong. Pay us her. Right name g g g in it and he poor heath had to like long hair back as i was puking the toilet. Eventually he gave me his tampa bay buccaneers to keep it all back. Don't even say that got a teenager. I was at tampa. bay buccaneers. Yes but with the three people on this yeah. Sorry that didn't that didn't end. Well of you drank wine. I just be be beclere here. I heard five of you say in some form or fashion that you sipped or drank the wine here say that they drink. The wine was born in fact orrin specifically said well. There was this one time with one and so he was just holding it but not drinking. So here's the thing. I said this off air earlier. But like i as a player was like. Yeah that winds poisoned. it's gotta be. There's there's something suspect suspicious about it in my mind to me as a player. I was like yeah. That was kind of weird for whatever reason not having able was already into kanter. You know all of that. Shane nov wine drinking with the celebrity in in. What have you. But i played it from fells point of view. Too where you know. He'd had drinks all night. he urged. I guess because we we daydream can right. Now let's evening it's evening okay But yeah so. He's he's been drinking drinks at the bar head and another one with sylvain. I mean why wouldn't he at this point even though is a player was like extremely suspicious about it. Oh yeah. I never suspected it. A bunch of honestly are you serious cap. Didn't toyed. i feel like none of us suspected it. Personally i did. I mean i did. Because i literally said this meta but since motive. Okay that's fair you job as a gm of like throwing us off the scent. Well we're here now. And i'm i gotta be honest with y'all real nervous about how this is going to shake out because not great So first things first. I asked for initiative at the end of last episode. Let's just go ahead and get that out of the way. Let's deal with that so zach. Would you get twenty one. Twenty one great. What about you josh. What it fell. Get sixteen all right. Kuyper twenty-five that's with your second room correct okay. I don't even know why that corrupt shouldn't matter Eighty fucking operatives all right and heath. What about mike. Twenty four and the captain nineteen the k. Well the initiative here is basically to track time okay. So we're not in combat here. We're just tracking time so about a minute. After you drank the wine those of you that did we started to feel small pain in your stomach now. The first thing that i need everybody to do you know at this pain in stomach getting your first sensation that something's not right you. Everybody role will save will interesting. Oh you know this was. This was just adam being tired of me fucking with ended up being able to kill me. Here's again make a will poison on the funny thing about this. Is this particular encounter in the book. I considered not dealing. Because that's how a nervous i am about this. So here's the neat thing about you. Running this game adam. Yes still can alert. We're in it now. it's too late. we're in it now. The wind has been drank and it could just be normal wine with the with the couple of words from you. i'll.
Heartland Newsfeed Radio Network
"one sensation" Discussed on Heartland Newsfeed Radio Network
"Classic radio theater on your favorite station yours. Truly johnny dollar coming up in a moment that now. The conclusion of escape january seventeenth nineteen forty-eight line again versus the ants again lennon fired the ditch to destroy them instill again. They came on but successive. Firing the test of the unscrew. Easier because of the film of ash which now covered the petrol as they returned to the assault time after time a slow sickening horror crept into my mind adequate land at the petrol tanks. He read my gaze not. It's slowly commissioning. All them off or other of us supply. Petrol was unlimited. But it isn't it. We've got enough to fill the ditch ones on line engine. Isn't there any way anyway. All we've got to do something i know i know must be a way must hairs. Yes the whole plantation. Lot the rivers higher than any point except his high ground. Where on the river was dammed. All the way that overflow that stone breakwater and brother hope plantation. But we've got to close the gate at the dam that'll do he'll mad dams more than a mile away more than a mile of amp. Let's let's let's. I'm proud of you other stellar china's shutting the floodgates and the diamond. Blooding the whole plantations from the moment over the ditch. Set fire to allow time for the flood. Watch all the way for me. It's impossible you can't get to the damn let alone back. That's why you're wrong commissioner. I'll get there and i'll get back. Take care of things while i'm gone. I watched him as he calmly pulled on high leather boots. Your gunshots over his hand and stuff the spaces between britches and boots and gauntlets times with petrol-soaked greg's shielded his eyes with close fitting mosquito boggles and plugged his nostrils and ears with kuttan then. The natives drenched his clothes with petrol blasts who acted as duck into the men's made a savvy over and finally lands and was ready as he stood communist. I realized that this is it should be i. Linux gen would meet the aunts and the fatal be defeated by them. Nah line engine versus the ants as it was right that it should be likeness but now there was no more time for only action took a deep breath and bound across the ditch and among the end iran iran long equal strides in with one thought one sensation. In my being. I must get through dodge the trees and shrubs except for the split seconds my so's touch the ground. The ants would have no opportunity to relied on me. I ran on. I was halfway through the damn before. I felt hand under my clothes and a few on my face. I struck mechanically scarcely conscious of their bites. The dan grew toward me slowly. Distance grew less less finally from eight hundred yards away. Fifty was their grip the wheel. Hardly i see when i float over my hands. Am i straight slowly. The wheel turn turn more. Floodgate was swinging slowly shut shot. The water was rising rising behind the breakwater. Closer the closer and then it was spilling over the flooding of the plantation begun. Let go of the whelan's got it back to the act of was quoted from head to foot with beans. Doug suppressed debit means. They been into my flesh almost lost my head with the pain of iran knocking on my body brushing them from my bloody base. Just below the rim of my image tearing away but it's agneda button it's been drilled into the i saw now through circles of fire into a milky midst almost blinded when i knew that if trips and oh i ran on my heart. Pounding burst blood roaring in my ears. A giant spits buttering my lungs. Then i could see generally that all of flavor to ditch but it was too far away. I could not last have just stumbled myself being swarmed over about a great weight then suddenly the vision of the half deployed stake in my six minutes. Then nothing but bone. I couldn't let it happen to me. I couldn't i myself.
Heartland Newsfeed Radio Network
"one sensation" Discussed on Heartland Newsfeed Radio Network
"Classic radio theater on your favorite station. Yours truly johnny dollar coming up in a moment the now. The conclusion of escape january seventeenth nineteen forty eight line again versus the ants. Again landon fired ditch to destroy them and steal again. They came on but success. Firing the test of the unscrew easier. Because of the film of ash covered the petrol as they returned to the assault time after time a slow sickening horror crept into my mind eloquent atlanta and then at the petrol he read my gaze and nodded slowly. That's right commissioner. Can hold them off or other of us. Apply pedal was unlimited. But it isn't got enough to fill the digital one small engine. Isn't there anyway anyway at all. We've got to do something i know. I know that must be away. The whole plantation lot the ravens higher than any point except his high ground. Where if the river was dammed. All the way over that stone breakwater and brotherhood plantation. But we've got to close the floodgate at the dam. That'll do it mad. The damas more than a model way more than a mile of listen to me. Listen let's i'm proud of you by shutting the plug gates in the dam and flooding the whole plantations from the moment. I'm over the ditch. Set fire to allow time for the flood to watch. And all you have to do is wait for me. it's impossible you can't get the damn let alone back. That's why you're wrong commissioner. Get there and i'll get back. Take care of things. While i'm gone. A i watched him as a calmly pulled on high leather boots ju- gunshots over his hand and stuff the spaces between britches and boots and gauntlets times with petrol-soaked. Greg is close fitting mosquito bagels and plugged his nostrils aeneas with kuttan then the natives drenched. His clothes with petrol blasts who activist ducked into the men's smith. Sav over him and finally lions and was ready as he stood communist ready for. I realize that this is should be a line of jenn would meet the ans- defeat them defeated by them. Line engine versus the ants. Yes it was right that it should be like this but now there was no more time for thought on the action took a deep breath and bounded across the ditch among the end iran iran long equal strides and with one thought one sensation being. I must get through dodge trees and shrubs except for the split seconds. Mayeso's touch the ground. The ants would have no opportunity to a light on me. i ran on. I was halfway through the damn before. I felt ants under my clothes and a few on my face. I struck at them. Mechanically scusi conscious of their bites. The damn drew toward me slowly. The distance grew less less. Finally one hundred yards away. Fifty was their grip. The covid wheel hardly at icees flowed over my hands and Straight slow the wheel. Turn turn more capers. Swinging slowly shut up shut and the water was rising rising behind breakwater. Top closer and then. It was filling over. The flooding of the plantation had begun. I like all the whelan's got it back to the act coated from head to foot with beans tugs debit. Means they've been into my flesh almost lost my head with a pain. That's iran knocking answering my body brushing them from my body pace just below the rim of my goggles and manage the tearing away but it's aggravated a button. It's been drilled into. I know i saw now through circle of fire into a milky missed. Almost blinded. When i knew that if i tripped and fell on my heart pounding burst. Blood rolling in my ears at giants. Bettering my lungs. Then i could see dimly all of flame today but it was too far away could not last happened just as they stumbled well myself being swarmed over about tried to rise a great weight then suddenly the vision the half the stake in my six minutes. Then nothing but bone couldn't let it happen to me. I could drag my cell phone.