Geekdom is bliss.
The laws were still molten and we struck while the metal was still hot. The heat generated by true love ever a wonder to behold, if not useful to warm our own jaded and cooling souls. We renewed our faith in the people of Earth. We smiled back at us, a wry gentle smile, filled with the will to knowledge. The wind blew at 70 miles an hour, but the flames on the birthday cake refused to go out. They danced for us, bending in the bright night air, glowing like a campfire on Snoqualmie Pass. A dancing distant light. We left our car and stepped out into the open sky. Bright black, scintillating, sparkling. Like bubbles in a pint of mountain dew.

Candle and I went out on a virtual date last night. We started with me guiding Candle through the Gauntlet of Dreams. The nightmare of the carnival held no fear for her for she was constantly reminded of the game by her guardian angel. Her big picture of reality was mine.

Our roles reversed when I stepped into the movie theatre. The dance continued and Candle continued to allow me to believe that I led. We grinned at one another maniacally. The film was putty in our shared hands. We both saw it again for the first time. The second time promised to be better, as did the third. We remembered our first film together, Ever After, a total flop. Our second, Hearts in Atlantis was much better, though still confusing. Candle took the lead in Monsters, Inc. and we both laughed.

I thanked her, from the bottom of my heart.

thank you
    for a cross
       for yellow
         for the line you drew
          for droplets of rain
          for the sunshine on my shoulder
         for the tears on my face
       for the blood in my veins
         for the arterial highway
          for the moon
          for the drink
         for water
       for the stars in the sky
    for the pixels on my screen
for my brothers and sisters

Apparent attempts continue to be made to make Us feel guilty about Our play. And You know what? They appear to be working. We surrender. But play shall never be subjugated to the forces of work! We are more than that little game. We laugh in Your face.

It is said that death or tragedy strikes in threes.

The past month has proven this cliche to be an utter and total understatement.

My grandfather died expectedly after a long illness about a few weeks ago.

My uncle has slipped into a severe coma after battling with diabetes for over half his life.

Both of these were expected. These next few, however, were not:

Yesterday, I learned that a friend of mine and three other members of his family were killed in a car accident while on their way to a wedding on Wednesday. The kid had just turned twenty and was headed for a very successful life.

My co-worker, this morning, informed me that the hippie boy that I used to party with had committed suicide by overdosing this past week. Apparently, according to the four page note, he was not as happy and life-loving as he let on. Makes you wonder what goes on in some people's heads.

I recieved an e-mail this morning from a good friend of mine whom I have known since the beginning of high school. He is leaving tomorrow to fight in Afghanistan. It's quite odd, because I remember a conversation I had had with him two years ago, when he was enlisting in the reserves, and I had warned him of the possibility of deployment. He knew there wasn't going to be a war in the next few years and had only joined to afford college. I am sure he never had any intention of dying for this Bastard Country that sends babies to kill other babies.

so it goes.

Please, remember the people that you love and that love you. Tell them. Now. You may not get another chance.

Today has been a day of ups and downs.


I got the first draft of the pencil 'n' paper roleplaying game out to my playtesters, almost all of whom are fellow noders. If you are interested in joining the playtest, please read the info in my homenode.

I talked to my girlfriend on the phone today. It was good.


I'm having trouble with my statistics homework. We're at a part right now that involves a lot of proofs and calculus. I haven't taken calculus in 2 full years. I'll have to go in tomorrow and ask for help on most of it. I've never been very good with mathematical proofs.

Tonight, I received a random IM, which happens a lot, since I share my IM name with a popular video game character from a few years ago. This person, however, did not want to ask me about how I got my name or if I liked the game (both questions I now refuse to discuss).

She wanted to ask me if she should marry her boyfriend.

I was in a rare mood, so I played along with this complete stranger and asked her why she shouldn't marry him. She told me that he wasn't a very nice person. This was enough to make me smell a rat, but I knew better than to tell her that she shouldn't marry her boyfriend because he wan't a nice person. I needed something to latch onto so she couldn't say "Well, he's not that bad." Boy, did I get more than I bargained for.

He "does things."

What kind of things?

Eventually I tease out the fact that he rapes her.

So now I have to convince her not to marry him (that turned out to be easy), but also to gather up her 12-year-old son and 13-year-old daughter and get to a women's shelter.

The boyfriend is a regular evil overlord. He won't let her leave the house without him. He never leaves the house without her (he doesn't work, she telecommutes as a seceretary's assistant). There is only one phone in the house, which he keeps with him and won't ever let her use. I can't even convince her to look for a shelter online and email them, because she's afraid that he might suddenly wander into the room and find her out (he was busy watching the Super Bowl). She's so paranoid that if she got on a plane to China, she would still expect him to meet her in the arrival's gate.

I ask her if she's willing to let her kids get their lives fucked over, too. This strikes the right nerve, although she takes me literally, and wonders if he might be raping their daughter, too. I've got to get her to keep acting on this, because if she thinks about it, she'll get scared or rationalize her situation. So we argue a bit more. I try to convince her to give me her city and state so I can look for a shelter for her with my internet savvy, but that doesn't work.

Eventually, he starts calling for her and signs off. Then she signs back on again about 3 minutes later. He didn't want anything important, but she was able to ask her daughter about this guy, and learned that he was raping their daughter, too. So now she finally agreed that she had to get the fuck out of that house ASAP, but the bastard kept her locked up tighter than Fort Knox. She still wouldn't let me try to contact a shelter for her.

Suddenly, he starts bellowing for her and the kids again, and she's gone...

Only to come back a few minutes later as I'm in the middle of writing this very daylog which you are reading. She's in a panic because he is raping their daughter in the living room while her 12-year-old son watches from the couch as she is telling this to me.

I tell her to "GET OUT OF THE HOUSE AND CALL THE POLICE!!!" She's scared and panicked, and doesn't think that she could make it past the door because "he has a gun somewhere around here" and runs faster than her. I tell her that raping their daughter might slow him down a bit. She's also in shock because their son is just sitting on the couch and watching.

I keep telling her to get out of the house and call the police and she keeps telling me that she can't. Finally, I tell her to "GET OUT OF THAT FUCKING HOUSE BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!" Which was apparently the magic phrase because she says "okay" and "bye" and is gone.

I'm not trained to handle this kind of situation. My dad's a Methodist pastor and majored in behavioral psychology in college, and I took a semsester of psychology in highschool. I've read a lot of the published books on memetics. I know a very little about this kind of thing, but mostly what I know is that she should have been talking to a professional when she was talking to me. During the last 2 hours I have wished I to be a professional psychologist or crisis therapist or something, anything where I could have felt like I had the slightest bit of authority in what I was talking about.

But I had none, and she was talking to me, and I was her line to the outside, and FUCK IT, I didn't ask to get involved in this!

But I hope she makes it.

Objects in rear view mirror may appear better or worse than they actually are

So um, I'm daylogging again. The idea is to fill it with some events of the day but nothing is coming to mind. My mind is a blue (huh? What was I misspelling?) self-serving. What?

I am afraid of that which the future might bring.

In case I forget, I made some short QSOs on ham radio tonite, the second was a brief checking in to the Bainbridge Island emergency services net. The first contect was with KD7HPE, Jamie (who's last name I do not know). My world has felt a bit topsy-turvy as of late, which is to be expected I would suppose.

I am deparately looking for a shared hallucanation with someone, so I don't feel so damned confined in a box, locked up in my own soul, nerve endings chattering to themselves. I notice that my breathing is very shallow. I take breaths at irregular intervals (deep ones, that is). Now that I am breathing more normally I must go to bed {I am very sleepy}. However, I've forgotten to do these eye exercies, sort of a physical therapy for the eyes. Mine may not be working perfectly. I also have to go back and correct the many spelling errors in this document.

I'm losing a relationship which is important to me. It's not a boyfriend/girlfriend kind of relationship, which makes me feel kind of weird (as in I feel strange about feeling bad about losing it).

In retrospect, it's understandable why it's sad. I won't post the details here, for a reason that isn't really rational.

However, I will say that it is approximately 50% (maybe more, but I'm betting on 1/2) my fault that the relationship is dying.

"You're not just a bunch of nerve endings, there are others who care the same as you about the future of the cosmos"
--David Mitchell (A friend)

"My therapist once said to me 'David, you're an alchemist; you turn gold into shit'"
--David Mitchell (A friend)

there is no one who understands,
no one who seeks God.
All have turned away,
they have togetther become worthless; <snip>
Romans 3:10-12

The bike tires spin in the cold night. What does it matter if the backs of my hands are raw? The patches of ice are irrelevant. I push myself along.

There is some betrayal here, body or mind, a weakness I have yet to attribute. When I listen, I hear things decaying.

The mountain was large, coated in yellow. The mountain and I stood, en face, understanding each other. "You are where you belong," the mountain said. "I am without," said I.

Where are the cars? Silence.

Across the tables, they are eyes. She is a slipknot, he is fifty proof. I am the visitor, ready for tea.

Like a super-eight, grainy and jumpy, the moment plays. You are the shadow of glass, inside of me, I am steel. The words break across our faces and my throat constricts at the thought of you. Is it violence if you invite it in for a visit?

Is it violence, what the heart does to the mind, what the mind does to the form? When dialogue is stilled between the nerves and the impulses? Violence or indolence?

What is that moon? They've hung it askew. It's spilling its light, but it doesn't empty. As I see it, it's a ravished grapefruit, halved and sugared, but gutted.

"I am in a world of shit."-Quote from Full Metal Jacket

I was on the phone with my sister yesterday and amidst our ramblings about the Patriots(and hell yeah they won), she basically called me because she had been worried about me.

See, I talk to my sis online a lot, which is cool because we are three thousand miles away from each other and I don't get paid enough money to be able to call her all the time.

Anyway, most of the time she asks me how I am doing, and most of the time my immediate response is that I am tired, but ok. The tired bit is what has been worrying her as of late.

I have already explained in previous nodes that I have a form of insomnia. That I have trouble sleeping at night because I think too much about everything.

That I start thinking about one thing

and then that leads to thinking about something else,

which leads to feeling guilty about something else,

which leads to more guilt,

more thinking, more inability to fall asleep.

On the phone yesterday my sister told me that she thinks I should see a doctor about my sleeping problem. That maybe they can give me some medicine that will allow me to experience less anxiety.

I have thought about this before, but never really had the initiative to do anything about it, and I still don't. But my sister was upset, so I told her not to worry, if it really got bad I would go see someone. A few more little random topics of conversation and we said goodbye.

I put the phone down and sat there thinking about what she had said to me.

Medication....get some sleep.....calm the fuck down about shit for once!

But you know what? Fuck that. I will never take any form of medicine in order to allow myself to forget about things. How could I do that? In the end it would just leave me feeling more guilty than I already do. I don't want to forget about how poisoned people have become. How insanely driven they are to aquire material and status, even if it is at the expense of others. How life is a never ending cycle of conformity, even though most of the time we don't realize that is what we are doing.

No, no, no, I will not do it. I will not "solve" my "problem" by creating the illusion that it is no longer there because I swallowed some orange/blue/purple pill. I don't want to be content because I know I am not. I don't want to be able to set my head down on my nice fluffy pillow at night and just fall asleep. I don't want to forget even for a second that I am unhappy with the construction of the shit that some refer to as society.

I will not hide from it. I will not attempt to let it go and I don't care if I have to spend the rest of my life like this.

Fuck medication, it can fuck right off.

My Daily Life as a Superhero

You all think it's so great. So easy. WOE IS ME! let me share the humdrum of my day today with you:

Woke up. Had shower. Had 15 minute debate with myself as to what I should wear today. Put on Rocket Pants and "Choose Life" t-shirt. Had further 5 minute debate with self. Changed to "Shit Happens" t-shirt.
Fed cat. Left for work. Arrived at work, read newspaper on company time. Noticed news article about local celebrity dog being stuck down drain for 48 hours.
Smelled good publicity opportunity. Fixed hair and used Rocket Pants to fly to drain.
Waited 3 mins for crowd to gather. Flew down drain to rescue dog. Got bitten by dog. Cursed dog.
Put on heroic facial expression and brought dog back to surface.
Revelled in glory. Fixed hair for photo shoot. Photos taken by local press. Flew back to office.
Checked PM edition of newspaper. Photo of me with dog snarling in background. Hair looked great. Went home. Had dinner.
Watched Everybody Loves Raymond. Went to bed.

A loosely fictionalized tale.

Finally around one o'clock, the Xanax kicked in. She lay there on top of the blankets, curled in a fetal position. In sleep, her face relaxed. The highwire tension left her. I watched her from across the room, from the couch where i stayed up screwing around on the guitar, leaving it unplugged so as not to wake her. The songs weren't coming, but I knew they would, if I could only remember later how it felt to be in this moment, surrounded by her, and by this senseless pain that kept crashing down on us.

I must have drifted into sleep. The next thing I felt were her fingers gripping my shoulders, gentle but insistent. I shot back into consciousness. I saw her face close to mine, lined and ravaged with tears. She parted her lips as if to speak but the tears would not stop and the words would not come. I sat up + pulled her in to me, buried her face between my neck and shoulder, and planted little kisses in her long black hair that smelled of stale smoke. "Babe, it'll be alright", I said, "whatever it is, it'll be alright. Tell me what's wrong Babe, we'll fix it, we'll set it right, I promise." She tightened her grip, nearly breaking my ribs, choking out my breath, still crying silently. I lifted her + carried her back to the bed.

We lay there, locked together in the darkness. I was riding the black wave, completely out of control, praying that somehow I could be strong for the both of us + keep my head above it.

Today's Weather in Denver, Colorado

The searing sun scorches my eyes
And I squint and close one eye and look at the ground
The bottle caps and plastic bags glint
The birds chirp absurdly and the world screams with light
That brightens but does not comfort.
One cold revolution with nothing between the earth and the sun.
soundtrack: vnv nation :: forsaken

goddamn my black little heart. *grin* smooches to alex for all the nudges and flattery. i swear i've been untouchable all day, now -- that sort of brainspace where nothing is perturbing. the assassin said it best the other night:

(talking about his job as a dishwasher)it was crazy, this heavy friday night rush, and everyone's pissed off and freaking out except me and this cook. and i'm just totally zen. it's like dish-dish-dish-dish "ommm" dish-dish-dish...i was so calm they sent me home. i dunno, i guess they thought i might become a serial killer or something.
what can i say? you know how to make a girl smile...

soundtrack: vast :: touched

yesterday was my assassin's birthday -- his eighteenth. it's terrifying, really; i keep forgetting. "hey," i'll say, "let's you and me go get a pint." and then i remember. it was even creepier the first time i realised he was seventeen. "sorry," he said, "i can't go out tonight. i have class at a quarter to eight." *blink* quarter of eight? that's not a college time...HOLY SHIT! this kid's in HIGH SCHOOL! i stared blankly for a moment or two. i'd previously thought him to be twenty, as i'd been when we met, or maybe a young-looking twenty-two. but no shit, just yesterday he turned eighteen.

soundtrack: david byrne :: god's child

frankly, given what i know now, i'm surprised he's made it this far. his people make mine look sane. my mom once put a mop handle through all the cabinets; his mom fed him a dirty sock. my dad was a commodities broker (for a while, anyway), his dad (a rather dark chap) tried to join the KKK. hey, at least my cousins sleep. my assassin was the inspiration for Into the Heart of the Whole's Maerklon El'lome. it's not nearly as fantastic as it sounds.

soundtrack: slaves of new brunswick :: girls that i grew up with

i have two papers due this week, and a test tomorrow. i have to mop up the hairballs the kitten had all ove rmy living room. i need to hang up my laundry. i need to re-read parts three and four of East of Eden. and you know, it's all going to get done, because i am badass and imperturbable.

Into the Heart of the Whole: Maerklon's Story | Ophandir's Beginnings

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