worst job ever; a dream

I was the caretaker for dark souls 3. I did all the repairs and upkeep. Made sure the crystal lizards got exercise so they'd be fast, filed down the giant crystal monsters so they wouldn't get in their own way, maintained all the switches/levers/elevators, restocked ammo for all the giant archers, replaced boxes/barrels that people kept rolling though, played fetch with the horrible monster dogs, fed the dragons, got employee of the month for figuring out how to only light the candles and torches when someone was around which saved a bunch of money, general repairs/disrepairs for buildings, etc ..

generic batman ripoff

I had discovered that fellow billionaire Bruce Wayne was batman and I wanted to do that too only I saw it more like a hobby and didn't go out much. I mostly used it as an excuse to build a secret mancave in my mansion, buy some fancy cars, and do parkour across the city for exercise. I "fought" against a villain that was one part Joker and one part Riddle called the Giggler. We "fought" by him leaving geocaches of jokes and puns that were clues to the next spot like a scavenger hunt. If i completed them all in a set time and found him he'd take me to lunch and if i didn't find him in time i'd take him to lunch.

a dream; an army of blond assassins

I was a spy but not a very good one. I by dumb luck alone intercepted an important code; something that was going to change the nature of espionage forever. unfortunately in was destroyed and now my memory was the only record of it. With as much stealth and careful planning as I could muster I made contact with my organization and asked to be brought in. We were to meet up in a hotel district in europe. I thought this was a terrible idea given that there would be so many people around and we'd never be able to tell if there where bad guys. my organization felt this was perfectly fine and that it was good enough for me. We had a small little apartment on the first floor with a broken ice maker. Without ice it was hot and uncomfortable and I kept asking my handler to go and get more ice from the maker three buildings over. My handler eventually refused and told me that if I wanted ice I could get it myself. I made several trips, each time my paranoia growing a little. I bumped into a blonde with a ski bag that could have easily held weapons. The way she reacted told me that the encounter was staged and she was testing me. I scurried away, got ice, and hid. Another trip and I could swear I was being watched. The roofs had bird watchers on them only one per building but all blond and not really looking for bird. The were in perfect sniper positions. I ran back to my handler and thought I heard a gun shot though it could have been a car back fire. I warned my handler and he dismissed it as paranoia. Another running scene with me moving from cover to cover to retrieve ice and as I returned to the apartment there was a large bunch of blondes so similar in appearance and clothes that they looked like copies of each other. They seemed like they were all part of a biathlon team. They were listening to a matron give a short speech. It sounded like a request for them to behave themselves but if you listened right it also sounded like instructions to comb the area looking for someone. They were gonna be staying in an apartment one floor up and half a hallway down from me. I slowly walked by them and slipped into my apartment. I was losing my mind with terror. They were going to find me and torture me for the information. My handler eventually shut me in my room so he didn't have to listen to my fearful gibbering. I heard a barking. It was the matrons little dog yapping at our door. My handler opened the door to see what was up and the dog ran in and darted under a couch. The matron apologized and called for her dog to come out. She kept up a litany of apologies and complaints about travel and the weather and her little dog in a calm smooth motherly voice while the handler busied himself trying to get the elusive dog out from under the couch. She was scanning the room during this getting as much info as possible from the room. The dog burst out from the couch and ran straight to my door and started sniffing at the gap between it and the floor. It barked in its little yappy way and scratched at the door. The matron swooped in and picked up the dog. The body guard asked her to leave and she made polite noises and thank yous. After she was gone the bodyguard checked my room but the window was open and I was gone.

dream a little dream

a girl died due to the perfectly legal indirect actions of 7 people and myself. unfortunately the girl was related to a voodoo queen. she cursed us and all sorts of unfortunate things started happening to us; flat tires, broken dishes, lost items, bad traffic, annoyances. One of the people, a real pompous prick of a doctor, called us all to his office. It was a big office but kind of old; like it would have been really impressive 20 years ago. He was that annoying kind of prick that is aggravatingly right about things and a condescending dick about it. he sits us all down and starts trying to convince everyone that we need to go "get her". as he is talking it starts storming out. as he keeps talking the storm gets worse; strong winds, torrential rain, and thunderous lightening. Oddly as the storm outside gets stronger his arguments and peoples reactions get less elegant. eventually they are all resolved to just walk out into the storm and track her down and make her break the curse. none of this sounded like a good idea to me. I tried to convince them that it was a bad idea. For one thing we had no idea where she was and it was really hellish out there. in fact this was another part of the curse. their eyes got a dull sullen look to them and actually looked a little orange around the iris. I refused to go and they were angry at me but didn't threaten me. they belittled me, mocked me, and tried to pressure me to go but I refused. they all left, walking out into the rain. they all got struck by lightening or hit by cars or washed away by the storm

Reanimation of the dead

A list of things that have been happening to me: I moved away from Night Shift; that was quite some time ago, I move to day shift, I'm still working for GoDaddy, I no longer do alerts which I'm really pleased about, my career is progressing slowly but acceptable, my alcohol abuse had increased to the point where bad things were happening to my body and my brain so I quit drinking; I've been dry since May 9th 2016, I'm going to an alcohol abuse treatment facility in an out-patient program, I'm now dating Cristy and that requires a separate post all to its own, my linux knowledge is getting frighteningly awesome, I'm really learning to script and how to build tools. I am reminded of the Wondrous boat ride song from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory: There's no earthly way of knowing Which direction we are going There's no knowing where we're rowing Or which way the river's flowing Is it raining, is it snowing Is a hurricane a-blowing

Nearly a year

Wow. so this blog is dead. nearly a year since I said anything.

I'm still in the desert which I have decided is more like a parking lot. I'm working night shift for GD; which isn't bad but isn't challenging. I still don't have any real friends here. I'm in a pretty deep rut that isn't really good for me.

I just got back from Washington DC. Walked a bunch all over. Saw a bunch of stuff. Got to see Anna and Will. It made me really happy and really sad at the same time. I love seeing my friends but seeing them reminds me of how much I miss them.

Grandma H died. I'm happy she isn't trapped in her body any more. Both Mom and Dad said that they didn't expect me to show up and were insistent that it wouldn't be prudent to fly out. What the fuck is that about. Funerals aren't about prudence. they are about getting together to be there for each other and remind everyone that while you've lost one person you still have many others in your life. It kinda felt like they didn't want me to be there; which doesn't sound right but you know how feelings are.

I discovered dubstep some time ago and have added it to my list of music I like. I like Skrillix and DadA life. There is a bunch out there. The weirdest is DJ Pon3; basically people post a still picture of a My Little Pony (not sure of the name) and put some Dub behind it. It's a strange anarchist collective where each person claims to be the "Real" or "Original" DJ Pon3. It occupies this weird piece of fan space that Hasbro hasn't sued yet. Since they aren't Hasbro and haven't been sanctioned by Hasbro I can't see how any of them are real or original but whatever. Some (the better ones) just plaster the image of their own set lists but others are dubstepping the My little pony show which is strange.

Our Old Lady Discord is still running through me. There is a lot of insane things out in the world and they make me laugh and encourage me to keep on going.

I joined a Gold's Gym two nights ago. I haven't gone yet and I am already regretting the choice. I hope I can find some willingness to go. I'd really like to be skinnier and I know it would make me feel better.

I've had some amazing dreams. Last night I was attacked by a Griffon while driving my car home. It landed on the roof of my car while I was driving and punched it's head through my sunroof. It wanted me to come with it because it needed to take me to "She who came first"; The First Griffon, immortal mother and progenitor of the race. It had used a dragons scale to track me down. It was very rude and insistent that I would go "if the ignorant monkey knew what was good for it". I argued rather circuitously that the only way I could comply was if it let me ride it which was personally distasteful to any of the proud griffon race. Seeing that it had no other choice, and somewhat confused by my logic, it let me ride it back to a castle carved into a mountain. It didn't realize that I was a Dragon, that the scale was mine, that I was more than capable of flying, or that with minimal effort I could have destroyed it. It just knew that "She" had given it the talisman and that the scale would guide it to me and that it must do whatever it could to retrieve me. There were some other things in there; Dragon scales were once used to seal pacts in memory of a time when real Dragons would act as arbiters over all disagreements had by all the races of earth. She who came first and I knew each other well. She had done me a great service centuries in the past and I had signed a promise, on my own scale no less, to return the favor when asked it of me. I think at some point all dragons had been wise, kind, and lawful to the extreme but something happened so that they were no longer bound in such a manner. This change meant that dragons changed and began to become very different. This division turned dragons against each other and that led to wars that spanned the globe and destroyed practically everything.

Storm

Tim if you are reading this, or if your lawyers are reading this, please don't sue me for reproducing this work that is entirely yours and not mine. Ask and I'll take this down.

“Storm”

Inner North London, top floor flat
All white walls, white carpet, white cat,
Rice Paper partitions
Modern art and ambition
The host’s a physician,
Lovely bloke, has his own practice
His girlfriend’s an actress
An old mate from home
And they’re always great fun.
So to dinner we’ve come.


The fifth guest is an unknown,
The hosts have just thrown
Us together for a favor
because this girl’s just arrived from Australia
And has moved to North London
And she’s the sister of someone
Or has some connection.

As we make introductions
I’m struck by her beauty
She’s irrefutably fair
With dark eyes and dark hair
But as she sits
I admit I’m a little bit wary
because I notice the tip of the wing of a fairy
Tattooed on that popular area
Just above the derrière
And when she says “I’m Sagittarian”
I confess a pigeonhole starts to form
And is immediately filled with pigeon
When she says her name is Storm.

Chatter is initially bright and light-hearted
But it’s not long before Storm gets started:
“You can’t know anything,
Knowledge is merely opinion”
She opines, over her Cabernet Sauvignon
Vis-à-vis,
Some un-hippily
Empirical comment by me

“Not a good start” I think
We’re only on pre-dinner drinks
And across the room, my wife
Widens her eyes
Silently begs me, Be Nice
A matrimonial warning
Not worth ignoring
So I resist the urge to ask Storm
Whether knowledge is so loose-weave
Of a morning
When deciding whether to leave
Her apartment by the front door
Or a window on the second floor.

The food is delicious and Storm,
Whilst avoiding all meat
Happily sits and eats
While the good doctor, slightly pissedly
Holds court on some anachronistic aspect of medical history
When Storm suddenly she insists
“But the human body is a mystery!
Science just falls in a hole
When it tries to explain the the nature of the soul.”

My hostess throws me a glance
She, like my wife, knows there’s a chance
That I’ll be off on one of my rants
But my lips are sealed.
I just want to enjoy my meal
And although Storm is starting to get my goat
I have no intention of rocking the boat,
Although it’s becoming a bit of a wrestle
Because -- like her meteorological namesake -
Storm has no such concerns for our vessel:

“Pharmaceutical companies are the enemy
They promote drug dependency
At the cost of the natural remedies
That are all our bodies need
They are immoral and driven by greed.
Why take drugs
When herbs can solve it?
Why use chemicals
When homeopathic solvents
Can resolve it?
It’s time we all return-to-live
With natural medical alternatives.”

And try as hard as I like,
A small crack appears
In my diplomacy-dike.
“By definition”, I begin
“Alternative Medicine”, I continue
“Has either not been proved to work,
Or been proved not to work.
You know what they call “alternative medicine”
That’s been proved to work?
Medicine.”

“So you don’t believe
In ANY Natural remedies?”

“On the contrary actually:
Before we came to tea,
I took a natural remedy
Derived from the bark of a willow tree
A painkiller that’s virtually side-effect free
It’s got a weird name,
Darling, what was it again?
Masprin?
Basprin?
Asprin!
Which I paid about a buck for
Down at my local drugstore.

The debate briefly abates
As our hosts collects plates
but as they return with desserts
Storm pertly asserts,

“Shakespeare said it first:
There are more things in heaven and earth
Than exist in your philosophy…
Science is just how we’re trained to look at reality,
It can’t explain love or spirituality.
How does science explain psychics?
Auras; the afterlife; the power of prayer?”

I’m becoming aware
That I’m staring,
I’m like a rabbit suddenly trapped
In the blinding headlights of vacuous crap.
Maybe it’s the Hamlet she just mis-quothed
Or the eighth glass of wine I just quaffed
But my diplomacy dike groans
And the arsehole held back by its stones
Can be held back no more:

“Look , Storm, I don’t mean to bore you
But there’s no such thing as an aura!
Reading Auras is like reading minds
Or star-signs or tea-leaves or meridian lines
These people aren’t plying a skill,
They are either lying or mentally ill.
Same goes for those who claim to hear God’s demands
And Spiritual healers who think they have magic hands.

By the way,
Why is it OK
For people to pretend they can talk to the dead?
Is it not totally fucked in the head
Lying to some crying woman whose child has died
And telling her you’re in touch with the other side?
That’s just fundamentally sick
Do we need to clarify that there’s no such thing as a psychic?
What, are we fucking 2?
Do we actually think that Horton Heard a Who?
Do we still think that Santa brings us gifts?
That Michael Jackson hasn’t had facelifts?
Are we still so stunned by circus tricks
That we think that the dead would
Wanna talk to pricks
Like John Edward?

Storm to her credit despite my derision
Keeps firing off clichés with startling precision
Like a sniper using bollocks for ammunition

“You’re so sure of your position
But you’re just closed-minded
I think you’ll find
Your faith in Science and Tests
Is just as blind
As the faith of any fundamentalist”

“Hm that’s a good point, let me think for a bit
Oh wait, my mistake, it’s absolute bullshit.
Science adjusts it’s beliefs based on what’s observed
Faith is the denial of observation so that Belief can be preserved.
If you show me
That, say, homeopathy works,
Then I will change my mind
I’ll spin on a fucking dime
I’ll be embarrassed as hell,
But I will run through the streets yelling
It’s a miracle! Take physics and bin it!
Water has memory!
And while it’s memory of a long lost drop of onion juice is Infinite
It somehow forgets all the poo it’s had in it!

You show me that it works and how it works
And when I’ve recovered from the shock
I will take a compass and carve Fancy That on the side of my cock.”

Everyone’s just staring at me now,
But I’m pretty pissed and I’ve dug this far down,
So I figure, in for penny, in for a pound:

“Life is full of mysteries, yeah,
But there are answers out there
And they won’t be found
By people sitting around
Looking serious
And saying isn’t life mysterious?
Let’s sit here and hope
Let’s call up the fucking Pope
Let’s go watch Oprah
Interview Deepak Chopra

If you’re going to watch tele, you should watch Scooby Doo.
That show was so cool
because every time there’s a church with a ghoul
Or a ghost in a school
They looked beneath the mask and what was inside?
The fucking janitor or the dude who runs the water-slide.
Throughout history
Every mystery
EVER solved has turned out to be
Not Magic.

Does the idea that there might be truth
Frighten you?
Does the idea that one afternoon
On Wiki-fucking-pedia might enlighten you
Frighten you?
Does the notion that there may not be a supernatural
So blow your hippy noodle
That you would rather just stand in the fog
Of your inability to Google?

Isn’t this enough?
Just this world?
Just this beautiful, complex
Wonderfully unfathomable world?
How does it so fail to hold our attention
That we have to diminish it with the invention
Of cheap, man-made Myths and Monsters?
If you’re so into Shakespeare
Lend me your ear:
“To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw perfume on the violet… is just fucking silly”
Or something like that.
Or what about Satchmo?!
I see trees of Green,
Red roses too,
And fine, if you wish to
Glorify Krishna and Vishnu
In a post-colonial, condescending
Bottled-up and labeled kind of way
That’s ok.
But here’s what gives me a hard-on:
I am a tiny, insignificant, ignorant lump of carbon.
I have one life, and it is short
And unimportant…
But thanks to recent scientific advances
I get to live twice as long as my great great great great uncles and auntses.
Twice as long to live this life of mine
Twice as long to love this wife of mine
Twice as many years of friends and wine
Of sharing curries and getting shitty
With good-looking hippies
With fairies on their spines
And butterflies on their titties.

And if perchance I have offended
Think but this and all is mended:
We’d as well be 10 minutes back in time,
For all the chance you’ll change your mind.