So Long...And thanks for all the Postage

So, I don't work at the Chamber anymore.

I thought if I left the job without another in reserve, I'd be in dire straits and stressed out beyond measure.

Turns out, I feel like the Governor just called and granted a pardon. I hated the Chamber more than I realized. Instead of worrying about covering bills and rent, all I can think is, "Thank you God, for not making me have to go there anymore."

I'm excited to look at other jobs, and see if maybe I can get in somewhere I'm a little more appreciated, or maybe write full time for a while.

The economy is tanking, liberal sensibilities are taking over the world, I have no steady source of income, yet I'm happier than I have been in at least five years.

Go shove it, work world.

Amen.

It's Dark

I was cold for a long time, so long that I stopped feeling it. I stopped feeling everything else too.

If I wanted to, I could open the curtains and let in some light.

I'm not going to though.

I'm scared to open them. I don't know what's out there.

All I wanted was someone to talk to. Someone of whom I could ask questions. But what's it matter? You're never here at the right times anyway. You're not here when it's darkest; when there's a weight inside me that I need help lifting.

A split consciousness skews perception.

Goodnight, Joe.

Joe Passes the Days

In between bouts of writing, blog posting, herb lore and you know...work... I have to find things to occupy my time.

Today I decided to mess with a buddy. I found a stack of cards we hand out to clients which they typically fill out and drop in the mail to let us know about their experience here. Under the Business Name section I wrote "M.Y.T.H. Inc." Any hard core Robert Asprin fans just smiled. The rest of you are confused.

Anyway, I filled in some little bubbles indicating we were satisfactory, and that was fun, cause I got to color. But I really shined on the following line, asking for additional commentary.

It read: "Comments: I got lost on the way to the event. No mayonnaise."

I handed the card to my buddy, letting him infer it came in the mail. It was great trying to help him figure out who which event was our M.Y.T.H. Inc event. He insisted it had to be a catered event, because why else would anyone mention mayonnaise. I suggested maybe the dude had to fake an orgasm.

In addition, today was also arts and crafts day.

Behold:
The Eye of Ra? Sam Spade's signature, We Never Sleep? Sauron? The Crimson King? You tell me.

Another one of those days

Hey Man,

Why am I never happy? I have a good life. I have a job. I have a place to live. My family loves me. I do all right with the ladies. But man, I am not content.

Given the choice between my current life and the chance to be out there with you, being a man, surviving, I'd give it up and take my chances in the wilds. I'd die man. I'm not tough in the ways it takes to survive on your own. But I don't care.

You kept talking about how cold winter is up there. But I'd rather freeze to death that keep feeling this coldness inside Man.

As much as we've talked, I know you've got things going on inside. You want to live, you want experiences and love and all that drives you. But nothing drives me anymore, Man.

I thought it was just the job, grinding my soul down to nothing, but now it just feels like what ever smoldering embers were still inside just puffed out.

I'm unsure of myself, unsure of what I want, unsure of what I should or shouldn't be doing. I really don't even know what I like anymore, Man. I'm talking about every aspect of my life: values, women, activities. I'm in a place where even the slightest bit of discomfort turns me off; whether it's a person, something to do or even a concept.

Let's talk about girls for just one second. For about four years, I put up with what, at heart, I always thought of as unreasonable bullshit. I'd always convince myself that whatever was wrong was at least partially my fault, and that's probably a healthy way to think. Right? Nobody's ever 100% correct, so in any conflict there's definitely room for error both ways. But part of me always felt that the girl was crazy, and exploding for no reason.

I felt like she was always trying to change me. And I didn't want to be changed. I understand change is a good thing, but can't I just be me for a little while? Do I have to always be learning new things? Can I have five minutes to breathe? I feel like I'm still in school. I want to take a break.

I've been thinking about the whole girlfriend thing lately. I want one again. I like having one. I think it just makes me happy that someone, just one person, likes me enough to say "Yeah, you know what, you're a good guy, I think you could fulfill all my needs. We're going to have a good time." Does that make it a self-esteem issue? Or is there just a natural human drive to find a partner? What do you think, Man?

You know, I just want a girl who's laid back and enjoys my company. I want something that's comfortable and perfect, and I don't want to feel like it's a full time job to keep her liking me.

I just feel broken. My heart's broken. My will's broken. My nerves are frayed and my moral compass is shot.

Anyway, I'm sure you're busy, Man. Don't feel like you have to get back to me immediately. Thanks for listening.

Your Friend and Confidant,

Robbery Joe

Red and the Wasps

Why you should be interested in Red5:


Upon his escape from "Sphere", some sort of hive-city where humans are harvested, Red5 trekked West, to Grand Junction, Colorado. I don't have a fix on where Sphere is located, but Red had never seen snow before. Granted, this guy comes from a post-apocalyptic version of the US. Colorado may be the only place that gets snow.

So, this guy, and apparently most humans, are implanted with cybernetics to make them more efficient workers, and to keep them alive after they've been harvested. Harvested for what, I have no friggen clue.

Anyway, Red5 makes his way out to Colorado. He holes up in this high rise condo and finds some sort of outlet to jack into, cause of course he has some sort of data feed plug grafted into his body. Anyway, turns out Red has been reading all these snippets of "history" from the present day and shortly after. Near as I can tell, history as we know it has been wiped from any digital archive. So the only thing left for him to read is the garbage of the internet. Red learns everything about the ancient past, our present, through game reviews, fan fiction, 4chan, bad bad stuff.

So Red figures out a way, through bizarre technology, mysticism or the grace of God, to contact the past in hopes that he can alter the future. So, he takes a shot and establishes a connection to this blog, which in hindsight, was a fruitful endeavor. It was difficult, physically painful and has produced no results other than for me to have e-mailed him instructions on hydroponics and tips for farming in poor soil.

After being emotionally devastated by finding out his entire view of history and religion has been wrong, he asks me for advice. I tell him to find a nice, sheltered place to stay; explore his new digs a little.

He goes on a little adventure up a few flights of stares. He finds lots of rooms, most cleared out, but some abandoned in a hurry. There isn't a whole lot of useful stuff, but some of the clothing, bedding and preserved goods could be useful. Heartened, he continues up. A couple floors more and he opens the door to the stairwell to find a change of scenery. Instead of old, expensive carpeting, everything looks like a cave.

Red5, remembering some ill chosen words from his new friend, Robbery Joe, he goes to explore. He turns a corner and sees a yellow head with tweedling mandibles, antennae and segmented eyes throwing back his own reflection. Startled, he screams and throws his arms up in defense. In doing so, he activates his implanted soldering iron. The heat and brief contact are enough to pierce the wasp's eye and splatter gunk all over Red.

The wasp starts shrieking and rolling over and over in place. Red's fascinated and horror struck. He doesn't notice the musky smell filling the cavelike chamber. The other wasps notice though. Instantly, wasps are chewing at each other, stinging, bursting though the strange paper walls that make up their nest. Red, lost in the maze of tunnles jukes, turns, rips through walls of his own until finally he makes it to a glass wall; a ceiling to floor window. He charges it, raises his massive, cybernetic arms and rams it, over and over into the shatterproof glass, spiderwebbing it.

As the clicking and bug-screaming wash over him from behing, he turns. The wasps, maddened by the chemical released by their injured hive-mate, swarm over Red. Each is the size of a German Shepard. Red, backed against the window, is lanced several times, many are just surface wounds but one sticks into his belly and feels like it punctures something important.

With each new wasp comes a shockwave of pain. With Red, and the wasps, pressed against it, the window finally shatters from the intense weight. Together, in one buzzing, roiling ball they topple through. Red's decent is slows by the flapping wings of an exceptionally lard insect who has him speared through the meat on his thigh.

Displaying inhuman presence of mind, Red grabs the wasp's sting with both hands and leans back ward, keeping the barb in place, but also forcing the mutant beast toward the ground.

No one knew the wasps could spit up acidic juices when frightened.

Red5 caught about a coffee cup full in the face. It wasn't enough to melt his eyes or dissolve his bone, but he's got some nasty scaring. It was too much for Red. He let go to cover his face. The stinger slid out of his thigh.

Through sheer luck, rather than level headedness, Red performed a midair sommersalt and landed on the back of another buzzing insect, struggling to right itself. By this time he was close enough to the ground to crush the insect beneath him when they both slammed into the ground.

And they kept coming.

He ran a couple blocks into an abandoned house, abandoned for twenty years or more and set the place ablaze. He waited in the house until the wasps stopped coming. Yeah, he set a house on fire, and then waited inside. He only waited a matter of minutes, but still, you do that.

As soon as it was safe he left the house and crawled into another. He plugged himself into the houses atomic feed, which of course, is still working. From there, the nanomachines did most of the work healing his body.

Red5 should be your hero.

-Joe

Jobs-

Let me tell you, Red, I know you're in the wilds of what used to be Colorado, fighting against nature for your survival, but sometimes I think I'd trade you spots.

Yeah, you've got elements, mutated wild animals, disease, starvation and the crushing despair of loneliness, but what's that compared to the slow-death of a job in a corporate environment? You have it bad, no doubt, but at least you're not having your masculinity incrementally stripped away. Somewhere in our(my) recent history, it stopped being okay to be a man, and that's wrong.

I'm living in a world where wisdom is dictated by self-help manuals, and clarity is attained through the words on Affirmation Posters. It's dog crap, Red. I shit you not, a woman just walked in and handed me a manila folder full of birthday cards and said I should sign them. Of all the people in the folder, I only know two, and I only like one. I'm supposed to sign all of them though, so nobody feels left out. Are you kidding me?

I'm living in the rise of the Metrosexuals. Men are becomming sissies, and I'm expected to get in line, let them wax me and cut my hair. Screw that, Man. I want to be a little unkempt. I want to go commando. I want to love sex, enjoy fist fights and eat massive quantities of beef in all its glorious forms.

You detractors of the masculine form can all go suck off a goat. Enjoy.

Real men punch each other:



Real men are bald:


Real men bleed:


Real men scowl menacingly:


Real men kiss pretty girls as a reward for doing a good job:


Real men have buttcracks:


Real men train the younger generation:


Real men cry:


Real men cop a feel, brazenly:


So take that, Metro jerks.

Donde Esta Rojo Cinco?

Red-

I haven't heard from you in a while. What are you up to? Have you indeed become a man of the soil? Have you been eaten by giant robots? What's your story?

-RobberyJoe