Comments Hereafter Agreed Upon

Henry Gains was not exactly sure what he had been sorting out during the last few hours spent in slumber, but he felt the pains of it. Twisting his neck each way several times as he gained awareness of the room, he set about becoming vertical. Slowly. First he crouched at the edge of his mattress, wondering at the hints he was gathering of the new day. Things were sorted to happen. He only did not know how they would happen or what would be the consequence of their happening. What underwear was left clean became his next preoccupation. Hopefully it was a pair of his favorites. Maybe the ones with the Grinch grinning haughtily or the ones with lemmings becoming aware that they are falling endlessly.

Henry reveled in the chasing after a mystery, but he did not want to spend his entire life with an edge of sadness to his being and only wishing and pleading and hoping. Mr. Gains determined he would find Satisfaction.

He did not find it in Hope, and he found it even less in Minerva. He thought he had it in Chelsea for a while, until he found out she treasured her past lives slightly more than this one. Something kept him quiet. He knew not what, of course. Something kept him from exclaiming, from stabbing out into the heart of the world and demanding a response. He always got responses, but he never had demanded a direct one. Never demanded one that answered the core of his concern: how did I end up here? His wishes and hopes had not placed him squarely in a fit upon his mattress. Or perhaps they had played a part, but it had more to do with his family and one or more things he wished he could forget.

If by chance he crossed the way
Upon his journey to a coast or a bay
He'd surely look up, he'd surely find it right
And he'd surely slip back into the dark night.

His wishes and hopes begged for the future, begged for a new day, but the past, that is something fierce.

Henry never pledged allegiance too quickly to ideas or people. They, both in equal share, take exploring and discovering before a friendship can be established. First he had to know what he wanted. From life. From an endeavor. If he was to work with those along the way, it is not imperative that they are of a single mind, but a goal in a common direction is helpful. A loose goal, not a rule. But he saw that a certain uncompromising attitude must be present to fully realize his dreams. Despite what the people making money say. Despite what advisers may say. He must become both lawless and structured. Lawless so that his ideas are fresh and even a little upsetting, rather than stale and tried and disfiguring. When he sees those around him stare at him, not comprehending what he has just spoken of, he is proud. For he has now unleashed a new idea. Something not yet considered by one or many. And those who refuse to open their minds and accept the perhaps incoherent yet attuned melody he has strummed will still return home that night. Will still travel a bit. Will still refuse to be tickled.

His fingers are already poised, already moving, already approaching the back of the knee belonging to the world and 7 billion...somethings. It is ok to not know what we are. And Henry will strike which nerve is quickest to react. Which nerve most quickly delivers the shiver to the body? That is the one to graze. And the body will convulse. And it will not comprehend, and it may not even like it at first. But it will soon understand that the tickling cannot, and should not, ever ever ever stop.