Captain Arthur Black: "Then you're not my brother Edward."
Nameless Martian:"No, Arthur, I am not."
Poor Captain Black, He had found again everyone he had ever lost. Suddenly, in that illusory heaven of Mars, mother, father, brother, and Marilyn Becker were all back. And then he lost them all over again in an instant. Forgive us, Cosmic Wie, forgive us. There is not one single space cadet who does not know the tragedy of those first Martian expeditions. Captain Black preferred reality to the illusion. As for me, I am not so sure. Mother, father, sister, and one particular earthly angel. Even if such led to oblivion, It still sounds wonderful to me. Oh well. Hello, there, Universe. How go those protons and neutrons? Those electrons? How about those quirks and quarks and Captain Kirks? Are they holding together alright? Are we giving it all she's got, Captain? Are our energizers bypassed like a Christmas tree? As for me, I'm alive. That's all I know so far. This morning seems to me to have been the most difficult for waking up I've had in a long while. Damn. The room was cold. The bed was warm. Sleep was feeling oh so nice. If I had been dreaming, it must have been a nice dream. I do believe the harshness of reality is all about that sharp contrast to this warm, fuzzy feeling of drifting away. And why is the sleep so especially heavenly when it's time to wake up? This world can be hard to face some days. The biggest irony with Planet Earth is eight billion plus humans, and it can still be lonely. To say it's only sometimes is really to say the only time I'm not is when I'm distracted by work, games, and hobbies. Finding something to focus on really is the key. Probably the toughest part of the day is just before drifting off to sleep, when it's just me and my thoughts. Highlight reels and encores. Then sleep rescues me. There's probably some upside to not being what everybody wants, peace, quiet, bliss... But it in those waning hours, it's kinda hard to see. Ever feel invisible? We exist when people think of us. We exist when they don't. You only feel invisible. Your heart keeps beating, and your thoughts keep flowing. You don't disappear when the door closes on an empty room. Relevance is relative, and we're never going to wake up as somebody else. You are still here even on days when it can be so difficult to even see yourself, much less be seen yourself. You, my friend, are still alive. I'm not sure if this is a ho hum, a hem haw, yee haw, yabba dabba doo, or a homini homini homini homini sorta day. Either way, way ta go dere Ralphy boy! You made it to work, Hooray! You know? This universe is a big place (understatement of the century), but even this planet can seem endless sometimes. I think that maybe the greatest tragedy is this separation by time and circumstance of those who just might need one another... Ah, but that's just this silly 'ol brain going around that bend again. Still, if that one mere barrier made a single difference, that maybe changed a life forever to the benefit of neither one, no one, than maybe that would be a good moment for Rod Serling to stand off to the side, shaking his head and making a sad speech.... "For this is how flarked things are in The Twilight Zone." Let me tell you something else flarked. I'm not sick, but I still have to leave work early to go see the doctor. Otherwise, the meds will stop flowing, and then I will be sick... So, I've got to miss a couple of hours of work and sacrifice the rest of today's pay and part of tomorrow's to the medical gods. How can anyone say this system does not suck? Doctor Hatter recommends a good clean cup move down. Not everybody can be the red queen, can they? Arrogance and ignorance are similarly sounding words but are a comedy of errors waiting to happen if combined. See, we're not talking peanut butter and jelly here. It's more like gas and a match, more like "Here we are on the world's largest hydrogen airship. I think this calls for a cigar!" Clean cup! Move down! Why should it matter to me what tee shirt a celebrity is wearing or which football player they're playing the fifth quarter with? I could really give three flip-flubs of a Flarkenstein. There are others much closer to home who I do care about, and I do wish to know what's on their minds. Far more so than any celebrity who will never know of my existence. Freddy Kruger's words to Zsa Zsa Gabor always said it best. I don't care what they think. I do care what she thinks. Maybe in at least fleeting thoughts, my angel will remember me from time to time. It falls a million miles short of what I may wish for, but a moment's rumination is better than nothing. I can at least live with that. Work's been crazy as hell this week, but it mostly passes the time. I've been catching up on my game demos at night when I go home. I finally made it past that dreaded level 13 in Freedoom 12 and 13. Platforming sucks. Too many monster closets suck. Shitloads of monsters with not enough firepower to fight them sucks. I miss the old level 13 from version 10 and before. That was actually fun once I knew my way around. Platforming, in general, just pisses me off. The next level should be fine except for that final room with the too damn many revenants. I swear, some of the level designers have a damn skeleton fetish or something. They are my least favorite monster in the whole damn game. I literally hate those guys. The level after that one is like an old friend, though they've changed it somewhat. Oh, and aside from a music change and replaced textures, level 16 is the least changed level across all the versions. Short, sweet, fun, with an unusual ending. After that is the new city level with a couple of Archies, about a hundred mancubi, even more damn skeletons, and Cybie to boot. But I imagine that to be tomorrow's problem. Remember, fellow gamers, infighting is your friend. Get em, Cybie! Clean Cup move down. In retrospect, Cybie was aiming at me a lot more than getting mad at his fellow monsters and taking them out for me. All told, I blasted through 4 levels in both versions. Next, I find myself in level 18, where my old favorite has been replaced with yet another level with too many..... Guess! I'll wait..... Revenants! The skeleton fetish continues... What is with these guys? There are other monsters, you know? I've got a bone to pick with you! Now I know how Ash feels in the army of darkness. Buckle up bonehead cause you're going for a ride! Oh well, on to another subject. Ever feel so damn sleepy that it's like being totally stoned? I don't understand. Not only did I sleep, I slept heavy, almost coma style. The world could have ended, and I wouldn't have known. That's how oblivious I was. Totally out of it. I guess I needed even more. Words can't even come close to explaining how I feel. It's a fight and a half just to keep my eyes open. Hungover and stoned without having been drinking or smoking. I just don't get it. Just a walking zombie. Brains! I need a few hours in a warm, cozy bed in a dark, quiet room. It's quite sad that these days sleep is my only fantasy. I daydream of actually being asleep. Ironic? Maybe, baby. Rainz! Sleep! Something! Anything! What a morning. You know? Being a critic is the easiest thing in this world to be. Doing something worth criticism? Now, that takes courage. Okay... My next Freedoom adventure involves levels 18, 19, and 20. 18 is a damn skeleton fest, with a bunch of barons thrown in to make it interesting. 19 is another platforming nightmare, with raising and lowering pillars to jump across. Ugh! And that last room, you've gotta blaze through. 20 is another old one. It's never had enough weaponry, but I found you can save a lot by getting Cybie pissed off at his comrades in that little room. Then you can go up the elevator, stand right beside him, press the switch, and grab the health pack. He won't attack the player when he's mad at his buddies. And you really need to save everything for all those barons at the end. That will wrap up episode 2, leaving just ten more levels to go. After that, I'll probably work on some of the oldest versions, where my favorite levels are still intact. Some of those levels I know as good as any real place in the world. That's a bit sad, isn't it? Life is a lot like a song. It has a beginning, middle, and end. The difference is that we can't start it over when we're seemingly past the good part. It's got to go on and on until the last note is played. There seems to be no repeat, no rewind. There is no pause. The track is the track, and it's the only one we have left to play. I guess for me, the lyrics are all the words I have written here. If this has been my 'note,' it has sure been a long one. I began it the day after I lost Marsha. I had deleted all I had written prior to that day... Because everything changed... And I have never been the same. Her song ended long before it should have. If I could restart it, I would. It was the days when I felt like this that I would call her on the phone. We could always cheer each other up. One of us would feel like crying in the beginning, but we would both be laughing by the end of the call. Now, there is no one to call. Now, I must work through this on my own. No stranger could ever understand. No acquaintances could either. I don't wish to insult anybody, but I was never really close enough to anyone else to talk about these things. I guess it's Doctor Blog-ieo to the rescue. There is a certain thing I no longer fear. I only fear certain aspects. I don't want it to be prolonged. I don't want it to be painful. I don't want it to be scary. Other than that, death only hurts me when it takes those around me, the people that I love, the people that I need to be in my life. As reclusive as I can be, there are still people who bring me happiness and meaning simply by their existence. To take them away is a wound that can never truly or completely heal. This lacks three months being 4 years ago, and it still cuts deeply. It gives this emptiness, this loneliness an extra edge. Forgive me friends, but for various reasons in varying degrees, I am not exactly my best self today. You know there's injury, and there is insult. And I really don't wish to be a joke. I would rather just be invisible. Great God, I well know this universe does not revolve around me. I know my hopes, dreams, and wishes don't mean anything to anyone else but me. I get it. I totally get it! But why twist the knife? If you don't wish to be a part of my plans, I understand. But why involve me at all, then? Why put me at the center of what will only hurt me? What only goes completely against my nature? What is only breaking my heart? I understand if you can't love me, but please don't hurt me like this. Please leave me with at least a bit of dignity. Your feet are free. Your will is free. You can go where you will, go where you wish to be. Maybe take one last look in my direction, know that I am a real human being with real human feelings. I can be a thousand things in a thousand places, but please let it not be a walking joke at the clown show. Please at least allow me to be real. You are not required to live up to the vision. You are not required to be a part of this dream. Just please be kind. That, my very special friend, is all I am asking of you. Meanwhile, I am left to find whatever meaning I can on my own. It's a hell of a thing, really. Meaning is subjective and, therefore, elusive. You can't find it without creating it, and the ingredients are different for everyone who seeks it. There are certain people, some even of my own flesh and blood, whose radio silence would be noticed in less than a day. Not me. I have gone dark elsewhere for several days now. Not a peep. I guess I must be one of those invisible people who had damn better be in a very visible place before even thinking of dropping dead, lest later I be a grizzly discovery worthy of Halloween. Boo, muthaflarkahs, boo! I suppose since they all still depend on my working all the time, my grown kids would be the first to miss me. Other than that, I am nothing more than an afterthought in others' minds if even a thought at all. It's a dark stormy Monday morning. The drive was an adventure, boy oh boy, I'll tell ya whut. The mother and child reunion is only a blind spot away. Between the road fading in and out of existence, and oh the pain, because I somehow managed to accidentally elbow the hell out of myself in the ribs while working in the yard last Friday, so I am as sore as a politician on a losing night. Damn. Please not a directly in da ribcage! My lungs. They're not supposed to have a pain in them! Ahhhh! They're not supposed to hurt like I go through three packs of nonfiltered Camels a day. It does remind me of how glad I am that I quit smoking a long time ago. But, pain sucks, man. Life is enough of a bitch without it, if ya ask me. Oh and today is also yet another National Social Media Can Go Flark Itself Day. Mark your calendars. At least for this week, I am not bothering with posting jack shit. If I am going to be invisible, I can certainly be so with a lot less effort. They're also picking a very risky time to be reviving certain bullshit around this particular place. I'm tired, I'm ill, and I'm hurting. This is not the best moment in time to be messing with me. I would strongly advise against it. I am guaranteed to out grouch the grouch herself. Today is not the day. Leave me alone. Go away. Let us not see FAFO in its full glory this morning. There will be no further warnings. Don't flark with me again, Pyle. Okay, I admit it. This pain is making me grouchy. But can't the world just cut me a break just for today? I guess not. Okay, I already know I'm not special. You don't have to so dickishly remind me every single day, do you? Either way, I'm over all of this. Clean cup move down. The rain is really coming down hard. I don't think they expected it to be like this. I hope that my getting a lot of the plants and roots out of those mountains of dirt around those stumps Hurricane Michael left behind years ago will now pay off in this heavy rain washing all that dirt away. Then I can burn the rest of it down when it dries back up. As the Trashcan Man would say, My life for you, bumpty bumpty bump. Or as The Tramps would sing, Burn baby burn, disco inferno, burn that mutha down. I think my parents would like what I have accomplished in the last year or so. I can't bring them back, but I can bring the place back, bit by bit by bit. Damn I wish this pain would ease just a bit. Life sucks enough already, thank you. It doesn't need to be plum sucking the chrome off trailer hitches, does it? I don't think so. That's quite enough, thank ya very much. Elvis has freakin left the building. The King has obviously had enough of this shit and so have I. I can't help yelping every time I have to get on and off the lift, which is going to be a lot today because of those damn stupid blanket shit rolls. Well played, reality, well played. The absolute perfect storm and a major test of my temper. Wish me luck in holding her together, lads. I'm giving it all she's got! I canna do any more or she's gonna explode! Red Alert, all crew report to battle stations. This not a drill, except for the feeling in my poor ribs. A few Advils later and it has become a bit more bearable, but damn. Can't you leave me at least lonely in peace. Do we really need the added bonus of torture too? Come on, man. Please just be a regular jerk instead of an outright bastard, okay? If you could just not be quite so shitty, that would be grrrrreat, m-kay? It's a zippy dee scew dah day. My kids still won't get their shit together. Things are still flarked at work, and the woman I love still doesn't love me back. Also this goddamn touchscreen keyboard still sucks ass. And I am a griping grouch for sure. Geesh, I wonder why people don't want to be around me? I'm heing sarcastic. If course I know why. I'm a grouch. Now, leave me alone so I can play with my wonderful trash! Well, at least I don't live in a trashcan, biotch. There are days when I do feel like crawling in one to hide. Does that count? It doesn't, Ah ah ahhhh! I guess my heart is just not in it today. I'll make an absolute best effort to be better tomorrow. Today is just not happening. I just don't have it in me anymore. I Thought on the drive home that maybe the singer from Ivy could take me away with the pretty picture she paints with her words to the wonderful ocean she describes, but assholes intervened. Idiot in front of me and a maniac on my bumper. God, I hate flarking humans! Especially ones behind the wheel. Oh the hell well. Made it home. Clean cup, move down. Oh, well. Let's check social media for any signs of intelligent life, shall we? Scrolling, scrolling, more scrolling, nothing, nothing, more nothing, bullshit, more bullshit, An angry heavy set woman in a purple shirt jumps over a counter to attack some poor dude. Wachya gonna doooo when Composite Barney-Grimace runs wild over you? Me, I'd run away as fast as I can. You ain't getting my French fries. Mine, damn it, mine! Is this what technology has come to? This is IQ draining, man. So much for a meeting of the minds, huh? As a young John Connor once said, we're not gonna make it, are we?
No comments:
Post a Comment