Poem: "The Hog Knows the Tree"
Nov. 21st, 2021 09:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem is spillover from the October 6, 2021 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by a prompt from librarygeek. It also fills the "Dude, I cannot deal with your weirdness right now." square in my 10-1-21 card for the Fall Festival Bingo. This poem has been sponsored by a pool with ng_moonmoth. It belongs to the Broken Angels thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
"The Hog Knows the Tree"
[Friday, April 29, 2016]
Cas checked the rising loaves
of multigrain French bread.
They were plump and springy,
so he slashed the tops. The lines
were ragged, not like the clean cuts
that Shiv and Mrs. Dr. G could do.
They had assured him that it was
okay, it took practice, and he'd
get the hang of it eventually.
Meanwhile his loaves still
tasted good, even if they
didn't look exactly like
the picture in the recipe.
Carefully Cas put the dough
in the oven and set the timer.
He walked to the stairwell
and listened. Silence.
Hali was still napping.
Cas moved to the crockpot
and fished the chicken thighs
out of the wild-rice soup.
Working quickly, he removed
the bones and shredded the meat,
then put the shreds in the fridge.
He measured out the spring peas
and poured them into the soup.
Next he chopped the asparagus
and stirred in the green pieces.
Cas leaned over the fragrant crock
and inhaled, thinking about how
the flavors would blend together.
Shaking his head, he tossed in
a little thyme, sweet marjoram,
and some dried basil flakes.
This recipe added most of
its herbs at the end, and it
never seemed quite right
to him without adding
something in the middle.
He turned the crockpot
on high and left the lid off
so the vegetables would
cook without turning
all dull and mushy.
Cas was scraping
the chicken bones
into the trash when he
heard voices on the porch.
Boss Blaster and Kato came in
with a man draped between them.
He was tall and thin, with dark hair
left long on one side but cut short
on the other, falling to hide his face.
He wore a dark, heavy trenchcoat
over black clothes and tall laced boots.
He swayed as he walked, hungover
or maybe still drunk, which explained
why Boss Blaster and Kato were
steering him into the house.
Something about the man
seemed vaguely familiar, but
Cas couldn't quite pin it down.
He hurried through the dining room
so that he could meet them.
"Watch your feet," Kato said
as they guided the man
into the living room.
A lilting Cajun protest
sparked recognition.
"Ti-Jean?" said Cas.
The man's head jerked up.
"Cas?" he said. "Cho!
"You sure got taller."
"We both got older,"
Cas said. "It happens."
Still it was strange to look at
Ti-Jean and realize that they
were about the same height now.
Ti-Jean covered his eyes with
one hand. "Brighter, too."
Cas really did not want
to talk about that with him.
"What happened to your hair?"
Cas wondered. "Usually
you wear it all long."
"Fireball," Ti-Jean said,
looking away from him.
"I lost me a fight with
a feufollet bête."
Right, because
Ti-Jean was always
fighting monsters or
cleaning up some sort
of flaky, nutty mess and
getting his ass handed
to him in the process.
"Are you hurt?" Cas said.
"Let me take a look at you."
"I'm fine, me," Ti-Jean said,
batting his hands away.
"You'd say that if you were
bleeding out or on fire,"
Cas said. "Sit down."
He tried to run through
a basic health check,
but Ti-Jean kept
fussing at him.
"Knock it off, man,
if you upset Cas I will
drown you in the bathtub,"
Kato warned Ti-Jean.
The older man stiffened.
"Not if I kill you first."
Boss Blaster shifted
to make his gun easier
to reach, though Cas
couldn't actually see it.
"That's not going to happen,"
Boss Blaster said, glaring.
"What makes you think that,
couyon?" Ti-Jean snarled.
Boss Blaster blurred from
one end of the room to
the other. "Because I get
about seven moves to
each of yours," he said.
Ti-Jean went to open
his trenchcoat, and Cas
just ran out of patience.
He swatted Ti-Jean over
the head. "Quit!" Cas said.
"You didn't come here to bake
trouble from scratch, so stop
acting like it. Sit still and I'll
get you something to drink."
"And I thought you were
bossy when you were
little," Ti-Jean muttered.
Everyone laughed.
Ti-Jean looked around
the room, possibly starting
to realize that Cas might have
grown more than just vertically.
"How drunk are you?" Cas said
as he picked up Ti-Jean's wrist.
"Have you taken anything today?"
"Nah, just been a rough road,"
Ti-Jean said. "You know
how that goes for me."
Cas remembered a bit
about Ti-Jean's risky life
and even worse luck.
There was no sign of
immediate problems other
than Ti-Jean rarely being
all the way sober if he
could possibly avoid it.
"So what brings you
to town?" Cas asked.
"I'm hunting things that
go bump in the night,"
Ti-Jean said. "You know."
He rippled a hand through
the air, and pale sparks
followed the gesture.
"Dude, I cannot deal
with your weirdness
right now," Kato said.
"That's fine," said Cas.
"Kato, would you go
downstairs and take
my laundry to Edie's?"
said Cas. "I may not have
time to take care of it today."
"Sure thing," Kato said. "I'll
make sure that everything gets
washed and folded proper." He
scampered down the steps.
"You two know each other?"
Boss Blaster asked Cas,
but he looked at Ti-Jean.
"Uh yeah, we met when
I was little," Cas said.
"Kato found him staggering
around town and then came
to find me," said Boss Blaster.
"We thought you should have
a look. He says he's not drunk."
"Well, I've seen him a lot drunker
than this, anyway," said Cas. "It
doesn't slow him down much."
"I'm really not," Ti-Jean said.
"Haven't had a drink in hours.
You got anything around here?"
"No alcoholic beverages," Cas said,
"but I'll make sure you don't run dry."
It wasn't good for a body to shut off
the flow of liquor all of a sudden.
Kato came back upstairs with
Hali hidden in a laundry basket.
If there was trouble in the air,
better for Hali to be far from it,
and Cas really didn't want to have
to explain her to Ti-Jean right now.
"Hey, Kato, while you're out, please
swing by a liquor store and pick up
six single-serving bottles of scotch,"
Cas said. "I'm going to need them."
"Can do," Kato said. "I should
get back in about half an hour."
"I'm going to die of thirst between
now and then," Ti-Jean whined.
Cas went to the refrigerator and
grabbed the big jug of Ginger Fix.
He filled up the tallest glass he
could find and carried it back.
Ti-Jean took the glass and
drank eagerly from it.
"Ca c’est bon," he said.
"Oh, that is so good. I've
really missed that, Cas."
"You're welcome," said Cas.
Ti-Jean peered into the glass.
"What did you add to this?"
"A little cinnamon, ginseng,
and linden," Cas recited.
"You made a hangover cure,"
Ti-Jean said, brightening.
"I made a hangover treatment,
which is good for soothing
a variety of other complaints
as well," Cas clarified.
"That's still amazing,"
Ti-Jean said. He finished
the glass, then mouthed
forlornly at the rim.
"Give it back, and
I will refill that for
you," Cas offered.
Ti-Jean thrust it at him.
Cas refilled the glass
and gave it to Ti-Jean.
The older man wrapped
his hands around it like
he would hot chocolate,
for comfort as much as
to keep it from spilling.
He took a sip, then sighed.
"What do you need to know?"
"I want to hear why you came
to town, in more detail than
just hunting," Cas insisted.
"Lincoln's my city now,"
Boss Blaster added. "It's
more than a bit of a mess,
so if something has
gone wrong, I need to know."
Ti-Jean looked at Cas.
"Yeah, he's serious,
and if you can keep from
pissing him off, then he
might help," Cas said.
"All right, whole story then,"
Ti-Jean said. "Back in August
of 2014, some fonchoks opened
the sealed evil in a can. That was
up in Rabid City, South Dakota."
"We heard about that," Cas said.
"It made the news all over, and there
was a whole series of articles about
things going wrong there. It's called
Rabid City for sound reasons."
"I don't know why they wanted
to fais du mal but they sure did,"
said Ti-Jean. "It took me about
six months just to track down
what was in that can, and by
then it had spawned -- well,
summoned more of its kind."
Boss Blaster frowned. "You're
trying to claim monsters are real,"
he said. "Like fairy-tale monsters,
or demons, or something like that
instead of supervillain nutjobs."
Ti-Jean rolled his eyes. "I thought
you said he'd be of some use, Cas."
"Yeah well, this isn't the kind of
problem he usually has to put down,
and I'm not exactly fond of all that
woo-woo stuff myself," Cas said.
"Fine," said Ti-Jean. "Last March,
I banished the original entity from
the can. Since then, I've spent
about a year following leads in
South Dakota and Wyoming,
getting rid of that thing's spawn."
"Give us a clue here," Cas said.
"What should we watch for?"
"It looks like a walking oilslick,"
Ti-Jean said, "but the real problem
is that it can feed on people, or even
possess them if they're willing."
"That we don't need," Cas said.
"So how do we get rid of it?"
"You don't. I do." Ti-Jean
shook his head. "Don't even
try to tangle with it. This is
some serious trouble."
"In that case, do you
have a place to stay
for now?" Cas asked.
"What?" Boss Blaster said.
"Now you want to put him up?"
"Here's the thing," said Cas.
"He's a friend of my mother,
so that should tell you a lot.
He's a kook, and also kind
of an asshole. But when
Ti-Jean Castille says that
there's trouble, he is
almost always right."
Boss Blaster sighed.
"Well, Ti-Jean? Do you
have a place to stay?"
"No, I haven't found
a flop yet," said Ti-Jean.
"If you're actually offering."
"What I wonder is, why did it
make such a big difference
to you when you found out
about Cas being here?"
Boss Blaster said.
"Cochon conne sir
qui bois l'ape frotte,"
said Ti-Jean. "The hog
knows the tree best
to rub himself against."
Cas laughed. "I've missed
your silly Cajun sayings,
too. You can crash here."
"We've got a bunkroom
upstairs," said Boss Blaster.
"Each bed has a little bit of
storage space for folks who
stay more than overnight."
"No, better let Ti-Jean have
the guest bedroom," said Cas.
"He's not the kind of guy who
you want to risk startling."
"All right then, Ti-Jean,"
Boss Blaster said. "You can
borrow the guest bedroom while
you've got business cleaning up
my city. Cas puts three meals on
the table, so that's room and board."
Ti-Jean gave him a solemn nod.
"Merci," he said. "Thanks."
The oven timer sounded.
Cas pulled the French bread
out of the oven and set it
on counter racks to cool.
He put the shredded chicken
back into the crockpot to warm.
He stirred in the lemon juice,
then chopped chives and
parsley to add to the soup.
"Lunch will be ready
whenever Kato gets
back," Cas announced.
Boss Blaster checked
his vidwatch. "He should
be home any minute."
Ti-Jean lifted his head,
sniffing the air. He looked
tired, like he hadn't gotten
enough to eat or sleep
in quite some time.
"Why don't you join us
for lunch, Ti-Jean?"
Cas invited. "I made
plenty to go around."
"I think I'd like that,"
Ti-Jean said. "When
did you learn to cook?"
"All along, really, if I
wanted something hot
and actually edible,"
Cas said. "But I've
learned the most since
I settled here last fall."
"Cas is our housefather,
and we would be lost
without him," Kato said,
coming in the door. "We
learned that the hard way
when he went on vacation."
It had been a self-care trip,
but Cas didn't want to talk
about that with Ti-Jean either.
"Lunch is served," he said instead.
Cas brought the soup and bread
into the dining room. Kato set
the table for him. Boss Blaster
guided Ti-Jean to a chair so that
he wouldn't faceplant on the way.
The knife sawed through the bread,
and Cas passed around slices
to dip in the fragrant spring soup.
Ti-Jean leaned over his bowl
and ate like he hadn't seen
a good meal in several weeks.
Yeah, that hog sure knew which tree
would scratch his back for him.
Cas found that he didn't mind
nearly as much as he could have.
It was oddly nice to reconnect
with someone from his childhood,
despite the dangerous circumstances.
Ti-Jean might be a kook and a jerk,
but he did a good job of troubleshooting.
Cas realized that Ti-Jean was one of
the few from the bohemian fringe
that he actually ... trusted, in a way.
That trouble wouldn't know what hit it.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear elsewhere.
librarygeek. It also fills the "Dude, I cannot deal with your weirdness right now." square in my 10-1-21 card for the Fall Festival Bingo. This poem has been sponsored by a pool with ng_moonmoth. It belongs to the Broken Angels thread of the Polychrome Heroics series."The Hog Knows the Tree"
[Friday, April 29, 2016]
Cas checked the rising loaves
of multigrain French bread.
They were plump and springy,
so he slashed the tops. The lines
were ragged, not like the clean cuts
that Shiv and Mrs. Dr. G could do.
They had assured him that it was
okay, it took practice, and he'd
get the hang of it eventually.
Meanwhile his loaves still
tasted good, even if they
didn't look exactly like
the picture in the recipe.
Carefully Cas put the dough
in the oven and set the timer.
He walked to the stairwell
and listened. Silence.
Hali was still napping.
Cas moved to the crockpot
and fished the chicken thighs
out of the wild-rice soup.
Working quickly, he removed
the bones and shredded the meat,
then put the shreds in the fridge.
He measured out the spring peas
and poured them into the soup.
Next he chopped the asparagus
and stirred in the green pieces.
Cas leaned over the fragrant crock
and inhaled, thinking about how
the flavors would blend together.
Shaking his head, he tossed in
a little thyme, sweet marjoram,
and some dried basil flakes.
This recipe added most of
its herbs at the end, and it
never seemed quite right
to him without adding
something in the middle.
He turned the crockpot
on high and left the lid off
so the vegetables would
cook without turning
all dull and mushy.
Cas was scraping
the chicken bones
into the trash when he
heard voices on the porch.
Boss Blaster and Kato came in
with a man draped between them.
He was tall and thin, with dark hair
left long on one side but cut short
on the other, falling to hide his face.
He wore a dark, heavy trenchcoat
over black clothes and tall laced boots.
He swayed as he walked, hungover
or maybe still drunk, which explained
why Boss Blaster and Kato were
steering him into the house.
Something about the man
seemed vaguely familiar, but
Cas couldn't quite pin it down.
He hurried through the dining room
so that he could meet them.
"Watch your feet," Kato said
as they guided the man
into the living room.
A lilting Cajun protest
sparked recognition.
"Ti-Jean?" said Cas.
The man's head jerked up.
"Cas?" he said. "Cho!
"You sure got taller."
"We both got older,"
Cas said. "It happens."
Still it was strange to look at
Ti-Jean and realize that they
were about the same height now.
Ti-Jean covered his eyes with
one hand. "Brighter, too."
Cas really did not want
to talk about that with him.
"What happened to your hair?"
Cas wondered. "Usually
you wear it all long."
"Fireball," Ti-Jean said,
looking away from him.
"I lost me a fight with
a feufollet bête."
Right, because
Ti-Jean was always
fighting monsters or
cleaning up some sort
of flaky, nutty mess and
getting his ass handed
to him in the process.
"Are you hurt?" Cas said.
"Let me take a look at you."
"I'm fine, me," Ti-Jean said,
batting his hands away.
"You'd say that if you were
bleeding out or on fire,"
Cas said. "Sit down."
He tried to run through
a basic health check,
but Ti-Jean kept
fussing at him.
"Knock it off, man,
if you upset Cas I will
drown you in the bathtub,"
Kato warned Ti-Jean.
The older man stiffened.
"Not if I kill you first."
Boss Blaster shifted
to make his gun easier
to reach, though Cas
couldn't actually see it.
"That's not going to happen,"
Boss Blaster said, glaring.
"What makes you think that,
couyon?" Ti-Jean snarled.
Boss Blaster blurred from
one end of the room to
the other. "Because I get
about seven moves to
each of yours," he said.
Ti-Jean went to open
his trenchcoat, and Cas
just ran out of patience.
He swatted Ti-Jean over
the head. "Quit!" Cas said.
"You didn't come here to bake
trouble from scratch, so stop
acting like it. Sit still and I'll
get you something to drink."
"And I thought you were
bossy when you were
little," Ti-Jean muttered.
Everyone laughed.
Ti-Jean looked around
the room, possibly starting
to realize that Cas might have
grown more than just vertically.
"How drunk are you?" Cas said
as he picked up Ti-Jean's wrist.
"Have you taken anything today?"
"Nah, just been a rough road,"
Ti-Jean said. "You know
how that goes for me."
Cas remembered a bit
about Ti-Jean's risky life
and even worse luck.
There was no sign of
immediate problems other
than Ti-Jean rarely being
all the way sober if he
could possibly avoid it.
"So what brings you
to town?" Cas asked.
"I'm hunting things that
go bump in the night,"
Ti-Jean said. "You know."
He rippled a hand through
the air, and pale sparks
followed the gesture.
"Dude, I cannot deal
with your weirdness
right now," Kato said.
"That's fine," said Cas.
"Kato, would you go
downstairs and take
my laundry to Edie's?"
said Cas. "I may not have
time to take care of it today."
"Sure thing," Kato said. "I'll
make sure that everything gets
washed and folded proper." He
scampered down the steps.
"You two know each other?"
Boss Blaster asked Cas,
but he looked at Ti-Jean.
"Uh yeah, we met when
I was little," Cas said.
"Kato found him staggering
around town and then came
to find me," said Boss Blaster.
"We thought you should have
a look. He says he's not drunk."
"Well, I've seen him a lot drunker
than this, anyway," said Cas. "It
doesn't slow him down much."
"I'm really not," Ti-Jean said.
"Haven't had a drink in hours.
You got anything around here?"
"No alcoholic beverages," Cas said,
"but I'll make sure you don't run dry."
It wasn't good for a body to shut off
the flow of liquor all of a sudden.
Kato came back upstairs with
Hali hidden in a laundry basket.
If there was trouble in the air,
better for Hali to be far from it,
and Cas really didn't want to have
to explain her to Ti-Jean right now.
"Hey, Kato, while you're out, please
swing by a liquor store and pick up
six single-serving bottles of scotch,"
Cas said. "I'm going to need them."
"Can do," Kato said. "I should
get back in about half an hour."
"I'm going to die of thirst between
now and then," Ti-Jean whined.
Cas went to the refrigerator and
grabbed the big jug of Ginger Fix.
He filled up the tallest glass he
could find and carried it back.
Ti-Jean took the glass and
drank eagerly from it.
"Ca c’est bon," he said.
"Oh, that is so good. I've
really missed that, Cas."
"You're welcome," said Cas.
Ti-Jean peered into the glass.
"What did you add to this?"
"A little cinnamon, ginseng,
and linden," Cas recited.
"You made a hangover cure,"
Ti-Jean said, brightening.
"I made a hangover treatment,
which is good for soothing
a variety of other complaints
as well," Cas clarified.
"That's still amazing,"
Ti-Jean said. He finished
the glass, then mouthed
forlornly at the rim.
"Give it back, and
I will refill that for
you," Cas offered.
Ti-Jean thrust it at him.
Cas refilled the glass
and gave it to Ti-Jean.
The older man wrapped
his hands around it like
he would hot chocolate,
for comfort as much as
to keep it from spilling.
He took a sip, then sighed.
"What do you need to know?"
"I want to hear why you came
to town, in more detail than
just hunting," Cas insisted.
"Lincoln's my city now,"
Boss Blaster added. "It's
more than a bit of a mess,
so if something has
gone wrong, I need to know."
Ti-Jean looked at Cas.
"Yeah, he's serious,
and if you can keep from
pissing him off, then he
might help," Cas said.
"All right, whole story then,"
Ti-Jean said. "Back in August
of 2014, some fonchoks opened
the sealed evil in a can. That was
up in Rabid City, South Dakota."
"We heard about that," Cas said.
"It made the news all over, and there
was a whole series of articles about
things going wrong there. It's called
Rabid City for sound reasons."
"I don't know why they wanted
to fais du mal but they sure did,"
said Ti-Jean. "It took me about
six months just to track down
what was in that can, and by
then it had spawned -- well,
summoned more of its kind."
Boss Blaster frowned. "You're
trying to claim monsters are real,"
he said. "Like fairy-tale monsters,
or demons, or something like that
instead of supervillain nutjobs."
Ti-Jean rolled his eyes. "I thought
you said he'd be of some use, Cas."
"Yeah well, this isn't the kind of
problem he usually has to put down,
and I'm not exactly fond of all that
woo-woo stuff myself," Cas said.
"Fine," said Ti-Jean. "Last March,
I banished the original entity from
the can. Since then, I've spent
about a year following leads in
South Dakota and Wyoming,
getting rid of that thing's spawn."
"Give us a clue here," Cas said.
"What should we watch for?"
"It looks like a walking oilslick,"
Ti-Jean said, "but the real problem
is that it can feed on people, or even
possess them if they're willing."
"That we don't need," Cas said.
"So how do we get rid of it?"
"You don't. I do." Ti-Jean
shook his head. "Don't even
try to tangle with it. This is
some serious trouble."
"In that case, do you
have a place to stay
for now?" Cas asked.
"What?" Boss Blaster said.
"Now you want to put him up?"
"Here's the thing," said Cas.
"He's a friend of my mother,
so that should tell you a lot.
He's a kook, and also kind
of an asshole. But when
Ti-Jean Castille says that
there's trouble, he is
almost always right."
Boss Blaster sighed.
"Well, Ti-Jean? Do you
have a place to stay?"
"No, I haven't found
a flop yet," said Ti-Jean.
"If you're actually offering."
"What I wonder is, why did it
make such a big difference
to you when you found out
about Cas being here?"
Boss Blaster said.
"Cochon conne sir
qui bois l'ape frotte,"
said Ti-Jean. "The hog
knows the tree best
to rub himself against."
Cas laughed. "I've missed
your silly Cajun sayings,
too. You can crash here."
"We've got a bunkroom
upstairs," said Boss Blaster.
"Each bed has a little bit of
storage space for folks who
stay more than overnight."
"No, better let Ti-Jean have
the guest bedroom," said Cas.
"He's not the kind of guy who
you want to risk startling."
"All right then, Ti-Jean,"
Boss Blaster said. "You can
borrow the guest bedroom while
you've got business cleaning up
my city. Cas puts three meals on
the table, so that's room and board."
Ti-Jean gave him a solemn nod.
"Merci," he said. "Thanks."
The oven timer sounded.
Cas pulled the French bread
out of the oven and set it
on counter racks to cool.
He put the shredded chicken
back into the crockpot to warm.
He stirred in the lemon juice,
then chopped chives and
parsley to add to the soup.
"Lunch will be ready
whenever Kato gets
back," Cas announced.
Boss Blaster checked
his vidwatch. "He should
be home any minute."
Ti-Jean lifted his head,
sniffing the air. He looked
tired, like he hadn't gotten
enough to eat or sleep
in quite some time.
"Why don't you join us
for lunch, Ti-Jean?"
Cas invited. "I made
plenty to go around."
"I think I'd like that,"
Ti-Jean said. "When
did you learn to cook?"
"All along, really, if I
wanted something hot
and actually edible,"
Cas said. "But I've
learned the most since
I settled here last fall."
"Cas is our housefather,
and we would be lost
without him," Kato said,
coming in the door. "We
learned that the hard way
when he went on vacation."
It had been a self-care trip,
but Cas didn't want to talk
about that with Ti-Jean either.
"Lunch is served," he said instead.
Cas brought the soup and bread
into the dining room. Kato set
the table for him. Boss Blaster
guided Ti-Jean to a chair so that
he wouldn't faceplant on the way.
The knife sawed through the bread,
and Cas passed around slices
to dip in the fragrant spring soup.
Ti-Jean leaned over his bowl
and ate like he hadn't seen
a good meal in several weeks.
Yeah, that hog sure knew which tree
would scratch his back for him.
Cas found that he didn't mind
nearly as much as he could have.
It was oddly nice to reconnect
with someone from his childhood,
despite the dangerous circumstances.
Ti-Jean might be a kook and a jerk,
but he did a good job of troubleshooting.
Cas realized that Ti-Jean was one of
the few from the bohemian fringe
that he actually ... trusted, in a way.
That trouble wouldn't know what hit it.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear elsewhere.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-11-22 04:38 am (UTC)*laugh*
Date: 2021-11-22 04:39 am (UTC)Re: *laugh*
Date: 2021-11-22 05:04 am (UTC)Re: *laugh*
Date: 2021-11-22 05:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-11-22 04:51 pm (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2021-11-22 07:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-11-22 09:01 pm (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2021-11-22 09:08 pm (UTC)I miss when Google search was more useful. Now it doesn't find lots of things I know I've posted. >_