update from sparkleup

writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/beats/06-bone-town.html

@@ -124,7 +124,7 @@
 <p>It all tugged at my heartstrings, and I prayed for the bravery to reassure her. &ldquo;You seem kind of anxious. Everything alright?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Yeah, I&rsquo;m just jittery, I guess. Nervous.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Nervous about anything in particular?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>She squinted over at me, &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve gotten good at your therapist voice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She squinted over at me. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve gotten good at your therapist voice.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>I laughed.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Nah, I don&rsquo;t think so,&rdquo; she continued. Another sip, and then, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m realizing how boring I am, and I&rsquo;m anxious that I&rsquo;ll bore the shit out of you while you&rsquo;re here.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no pressure on my end. We could watch videos online for a few days like we would do anyway and it&rsquo;d still be a vacation for me.&rdquo;</p>

writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/beats/07-seeds-of-doubt--2-retreat.html

@@ -55,7 +55,7 @@
 <p>I know that I stopped writing of a sudden yesterday. I ran out of words, and didn&rsquo;t know what it was that I needed to say that I needed. I just sat for a while, closed my notebook, grabbed another ride back to town, and sat at that coffee shop I visited a few days ago, drinking an ice tea and looking at nothing, and then I went back to my room and sat on my bed and read for a bit. I&rsquo;ll meet up with Kay tonight, I&rsquo;m sure.</p>
 <p>I got my notebook out to see if I could finish what I started, but I couldn&rsquo;t. It&rsquo;s just not there anymore.</p>
 <p>Instead, I just dived back into memories. Of that night, I remember first of all the way I cupped my fingers over the bridge of my muzzle and pulled down gently while pushing my snout up. The isometric stretch served to highlight every bit of tension within my neck, and as I held the pressure, I closed my eyes, counting the knotted muscles. Pressed, pushed, and held until I could feel the lactic acid burn deep in the tissue, and then released. With my targets thus marked, I ducked my muzzle down and slid my paws back, fingers kneading along sore spots.</p>
-<p>Not for the first time, I wished that I could simply disappear within the written word. Wished that I could relinquish the very idea of physical sensation and surround myself in successive layers of scripture, commentaries, notes. Wished, most of all, that I could wrap myself in the warmth of his faith.</p>
+<p>Not for the first time, I wished that I could simply disappear within the written word. Wished that I could relinquish the very idea of physical sensation and surround myself in successive layers of scripture, commentaries, notes. Wished, most of all, that I could wrap myself in the warmth of my faith.</p>
 <p>If, at the end of time, faith and hope are to fade, there would be a final sense of completion, but until then, my faith was a comfort.</p>
 <p>I shook my head to try to clear the clinging rumination, closing the book of Pauline commentaries and the notebook that I had been attacking with a highlighter and pen.</p>
 <p>Standing from my rickety chair, I stretched toward the ceiling, claws brushing up against the off-white-towards-gray paint momentarily before I leaned to the side to loosen muscles in my back.</p>
@@ -101,7 +101,7 @@
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+                <p>Page generated on 2021-09-03</p>
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writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/beats/07-seeds-of-doubt--3-choose-fear.html

@@ -81,7 +81,7 @@
 </blockquote>
 <p><em>Redeem Israel.</em></p>
 <p>Israel, who struggled with God.</p>
-<p>I envied, as I often did, the Jewish tradition, that eternal argument about who God was, what He meant, in which God was an active participant. Perhaps here, I could wrestle with Him. Tumble with my faith. Get all scuffed up.</p>
+<p>I envied, as I often did, the comment I had heard of the Jewish tradition about that eternal argument about who God was, what He meant, in which God was an active participant. Perhaps here, I could wrestle with Him. Tumble with my faith. Get all scuffed up.</p>
 <p>But Catholicism only offered him so much leeway, and this school even less.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be here,&rdquo; I confessed to the statue. I remember that. I remember the kindness in the stone, in her smile. I confessed, then sighed, sat at her feet, and began my penance.</p>
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@@ -100,7 +100,7 @@
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+                <p>Page generated on 2021-09-03</p>
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