(for Tarheel Tavern) and Hool...
I eat numbers for breakfast. Well, brunch. They suck. I wouldn't try it.
Instead run out and git yoreself a gol-dern numerologist. You know, a number specialist, as His Homeliness might say.
The reasons for your having done so will become apparent as the flow of time begins to alter the pace of your everyday life to the point where new information may be imprinted, and life can go on as usual.
To start with, I was born on the 13th, so I became acquainted with numbers having personalities and meanings early on. Triskaidekaphobia, or fear of the number 13, still infects the minds of hominids today. Subsequently, I have found pregnancy in 1 (ace), 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 13, 22, 23, and, of course, 24. And 25, because of Christmas.
When I was but a boy, attending Camp Thunderbird, I found myself stationed at the #3 shelter, which I found to be most appropriate, since there wasn't a 13.
According to Sacred Symbols of the Ancients, my birth card is the Ace of Spades, meaning "secrets" and "ancient knowledge", hence 1 is a personal number. Princess Diana was an Ace of Spades. My planetary ruler card is 9 of Clubs, meaning "universal knowledge". Princes William and Harry are 9 of Clubs.
Looking at the birthdays of my ancestors, I noticed that there were more than a few 6 of clubs. Of 7, let me just say that I feel a friendship with the number. 8 and 9 were prevalent in the 1990s, one then the other. A story of endings.
The Mayans make note of 11 and 12, or 1111 and 1212. These are also the times I take my meds, depending on whether or not it is Daylight Savings Time. I often see these configs on digital clocks. When I see 12:34, I read it as "my ducks are in a row". Perfect sequence. 12:35 happens when things are out of sequence, or I am late for something. Yesterday, I looked at the clock and it was 12:35. This reminded me that I had forgotten to eat my brekkies.
I once read in a book on Numerology that 11 and 22 are special numbers. Then I ciphered that my first and last name were 11 and 22, which only threw fuel on my long-held belief that I fell to earth as an avatar who somehow forgot what he was supposed to report.
The twin towers formed an 11. 9 has long represented Death. My 9/10/01 flight out of Manhattan was cancelled due to lightning and bad weather.
7734 is Hell upended.
23 keeps popping into view, synchronicitously, and 24 is once again raising heartrates. At times I wax the borderline acalculiac, a numbskull atavistic throwback hangers-on I'd just as soon discard. Perhaps by uttering my few examples, the jesus of numbers will climb the cross once more, sacrifice, like soldiers, for my financial well-being. But alas that would be jaded, a candidate for bumfodder.
Forcemeat.
"Dance before the numbers with all your might!" saith ye Metatron.
"I shant affix meaning. This is the non-authorial style."
The Chums of Chance, and folks who can walk a mile.
The aroma of pleroma.
Art Zydeco.
Zhoooodah!
