My inner self lives in a dreamworld where beer(or ale) flows freely at night and you fight with a sword all day between sexual and culinary feasts. Temple? yeah I guess. My inner self will die with a sword in my hand shouting Odin. But is that my real self? doubtfully, I reread the Phadrus by Plato and realize that the dicotomy that is my life is better summed up by not that which is familiar but ratheer that which is strange and indeed pecular - knowing that rattlesnakes can't hear talking one out of biting me, or not being able to shoot an enemy because he reminds you of your younger brother, or getting within 5 feet of a bear and seeing the expression of fear in his face before he runs away or jumping 30 feet off a cliff knowing it will be ok. Knowing above all else that I am no more than a cosmic hick-up if that, and God if he does exist does not exist in a form that I would understand - and knowing that "Vile's Telescope" probably won't work in poser. You really didn't want to know all that, did you ?!