mana, ogres, and princesses
2014-10-06 - 5:56 a.m.

activity::
21sep: "maze runner" with mitch, i'm never again watching a sequel that has a blatant set-up in its prequel (ie "divergent", "the hobit" part 6, "hunger games" part 4, etc.)
27sep: 160 miles on motorcycle. kiki's birthday, with the promise of bellydancers, mitch, scott, brandy, nicole, leonard, paul, bunny, jessica, and katya.
28sep: shopping with juni. decided my wardrobe of grey shirts needs an update. did not (as of yet) update.
04oct: board game night with dan, mike, and mitch. San Juan, four stars.
05oct: duct tape mannequin #2, lost a little blood on this one, took more photos.
06oct: put bike away for the winter, decided to name it BATTLE CAT.
07oct: G's visa was approved, yay!
11oct: bob schnieder and john mayer and riesling with rielly. she smelled like bacon and rainbows.
13oct: quit caffeine, switched to 7up.
12oct: a waste of a day off.
14oct: waste of a day off.
22oct: Radar Love. "But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man / That he didn't, didn't already have ..." by America, stuck in my head all day.
02nov: team usa basketball, street fighter, and last night on earth with matt, mike, lishi, scott, mike, amanda, ike, dan, rebecca, leora, and mitch.
24nov: stopped saying "i'm sorry" for things i was not responsible for.
24nov: under Robert P. McCulloch's direction, a grand jury decides not to indict a police officer that shot an unarmed minor (seven times) to death, resulting in riots in Ferguson, Missouri. McCulloch was 12 years old when his father was killed in the line of duty.
26nov: thanksgiving in maine.
29nov: kiki's house raided by a swat team without a warrant.
01dec: G dropped off the planet. most of all, i'm going to miss the way she would roll her head slightly forward letting her jaw drop with a breath of mock surprise, recovering with a stylish eyebrow raising lip bite expression, whenever i'd found some creative new way to tell her she was the light of my life.
05dec: beers with the admin guys.
06dec: military ball with nadia.
07dec: Iran and the US openly working together to coordinate strikes against ISIS.
12dec: christmas in maine. maine got me a speeding ticket for a present this year; not quite what i asked for. but if you always got what you wanted for the holidays, it wouldn't be called "christmas", it would be called "shopping".
14dec: speeding ticket in maine.
17dec: sony backs down from threats by north korean hackers by cancelling movie.
17dec: us-cuba prinoser exchange.
??: us-cuba embargo lifted.
??: us missile ‘defense’ system built in cuba.
20dec: turned the heat on in apartment (was down to 2kwh per day).
20dec: finnished ogre battle 64 (chaos frame of 94) with leia, troi, katreda, asnabel, liedel, vad, sheen, meredia, biske, europea, and carth.
21dec: brunch at ecco with imelda.
25dec: nothing says “holidays” like sitting around in your apartment by yourself.
26dec: dexter with imelda.
31dec: nothing says “holidays” like sitting around in your apartment by yourself.

references::
"believe you me" -billy preston
weather history: http://www.wunderground.com/history/

thoughts::

Child Jason: All of these conversations actually happened, though I've taken some artistic liberties.

Sir#1 (jason, age 4): Dad, you're so silly. I remember when you were my age.

motivational poster: this is my IRKED face.

Sir#2 (child jason): *clears throat* what is this?
Sir#1 (first grader #1): it’sa nekkid wooman! Tehe, tehe!
Sir#2 (child jason): ahh, no. see, what you’ve drawn here, is a person with boobs and a willy. clearly you have never seen a nekkid wooman.
Sir#1 (first grader #2): no I did, I did! she looked like this, e’sactly!
Sir#2 (child jason): okay look… you played with the pegs and the holes, right? a willy is like a peg, and the two parts go together, so logically, girls must have…
Sir#1 (first grader #1 and first grader #2): …
Sir#2 (child jason): -- a hole.
Sir#1 (first grader #1): no way! everyone got a willy. psshhh.
Sir#2 (child jason): *scribbling a little drawing on the side of the picture, so as not to mess up the original artwork* it’s like this… *draws a circle with a line in it*
Sir#1 (first grader #2): ha! that doesn’t look like a hole at all!
Sir#2 (child Jason): *irritated, makes several more attempts, fails, then scribbles out the original penis, and pokes a hole in the paper with the pencil*
Sir#1 (first grade teacher): *confiscating amateur diagram of the female figure* principal’s office, now.
Sir#2 (child jason): *being hauled off* they need to know the truth! isn’t that what school is for??
hindsight: the principal probably had the parents of all 18 of my classmates on speed dial.

motivational poster: I wish all of LIFE was like the gun scene from SPACED.

Sir#1 (jason, age 6): Dad, STOP! We need to pick up that trash on the side of the road.
Sir#2 (Dad): *stops the truck* Why?
Sir#1 (jason, age 6): Because everyone just needs to do a little bit to clean up the planet, and today it's our turn.

motivational poster: ARIAL photos

Sir#1 (4th grade principal): Stabbed by a pencil, eh? What were you fighting over, eh?
Sir#2 (child jason): Copyright issues.
Sir#1 (4th grade principal): Yea yea, I heard about your little book project. You're going to get lead poisoning, eh?
Sir#2 (child jason): No, I am not. Pencils are made out of graphite now, for exactly *this* reason. Didn't they teach you that in principal school?
Sir#1 (4th grade principal): I didn't go to "principal school", I went to Harvard, eh? (grabs bottle of hydrogen peroxide)
Sir#2 (child jason): No! Not that bottle. I just need to be disinfected, I don't need my whole hand burned off. Are you even a doctor?? Did you tell my parents that you are pouring chemicals on children?
Sir#1 (4th grade principal): Please, be quiet, eh? Yes, I'm a doctor. See, my credentials are right there on the wall, eh? PhD in Philosophy. Now hold still, this will only hurt a bit...
Sir#2 (child jason): I hope you have malpractice insurance.

motivational poster: what part of LOVE don't you understand?

Sir#1 (child jason): I'm thinking about writing a story about a bunch of superheroes that fly around the world and convert carbon monoxide waste into a useful form of energy.
Sir#2 (5th grade creative writing teacher): So, can they shoot *lasers*?
Sir#1 (child jason): No.
Sir#2 (5th grade creative writing teacher): Are they like, really *strong*, and wear tights?
Sir#1 (child jason): No.
Sir#2 (5th grade creative writing teacher): Don't they have like, super enemies?
Sir#1 (child jason): No. But sometimes they get invited to parties thrown by the car companies.
Sir#2 (5th grade creative writing teacher): Sounds *lame*.
Sir#1 (child jason): No, it's *cool* because they actually DO something about saving the planet, instead of just beating people up.
Sir#2 (5th grade creative writing teacher): Well *I* think you should write a story that's a little more creative, and *I* am in charge, so you have to do what I say.

"recognize your talents and find ways of serving others by using them" -my ambiguously motivational calendar at work.

Sir#1 (6th grade homeroom teacher): Jason, pledge you allegiance to the flag, like everyone else.
Sir#2 (child jason): No. It's against my religion.
Sir#1 (6th grade homeroom teacher): And what religion is that?
Sir#2 (child jason): The one I just made up. I had a friend in my previous school that didn't have to say the pledge of allegiance because it was against his religion to do so. So I'm telling you now, it's against mine.
Sir#1 (6th grade homeroom teacher): Your religion isn't real. No one believes in it, it is not officially recognized.
Sir#2 (child jason): Well, I believe in it, that's one. And who decides how many believers you need for a religion? Jesus had a religion before he picked up any disciples. And he was only one person.
hindsight: the teacher agreed to let me skip the pledge of allegiance, and even opened it up to the rest of the children of my homeroom, saying "if anyone chooses not to do so, they may remain seated". After that, I said the pledge of allegiance every morning, but it felt different, because it was a Choice, instead of a mandate without justification.

industry standard: in the morning when you start work, and in the evening when you leave work, there should be enough open space on your desk to have sex on it.

Sir#1 (7th grade principal): So, I got a report about you buying souls.
Sir#2 (child jason): At mealtime, I traded my pizza for someone's soul. Have you ever heard of the story of Persephone? Of the Eleusinians?
Sir#1 (7th grade principal): No. Why are you buying souls, what do you do with them?
Sir#2 (child jason): Resale value. I get 10$ per soul.
Sir#1 (7th grade principal): Morally, you think this a good thing to do?
Sir#2 (child jason): I'm not aware of it being against any school policy.
Sir#1 (7th grade principal): Who do you sell them to?
Sir#2 (child jason): That's confidential.
Sir#1 (7th grade principal): Aren't you afraid that you will go to hell for trading souls?
Sir#2 (child jason): Well, I don't plan on selling mine.
Sir#1 (7th grade principal): Doesn't the bible say that buying souls is bad?
Sir#2 (child jason): Not that I know of. Besides, there's more people that believe in souls than just the people that believe in the bible. It's more of a contract, really. Like a life insurance policy or a promise to pay your school loans. And those contracts have real-world value, even though they are only based on the faith that something may happen in the future.
Sir#1 (7th grade principal): Well, henceforth, it is against school policy to sell or buy souls on school property, and doing so will get you expelled.
hindsight: this was the only soul I bought, because my contact refused to buy it, due to the amount of attention that the transaction got from the community. So I simply held onto it. The soul's original owner died by accident and mishap about two years later.

i really don't like it when people start conversations in the restroom. the next time someone starts a conversation with me there, I'm going to HUG them.

Dream: New world curses. Talking with someone about how profitable it would be to steal a boat just out of harbor. Flash of early pirates. Two men and two women along for the ride, a small ship, but they live like kings for several months until the stores run out, then plan to sell the ship and live like kings some more. Flash forward to a different ship, with dark walls as if it had already been sunk. There is a fireplace on one side of the room. A sorcerer-type says some words while holding a baby, then sets the baby down into a large shallow dark hewn bowl. The baby cries, but it's too tired to cry for long. The contents of the bowl resemble a painter's pallet; some blue goop, some powders... the baby is just another dollop of paint. There's a small flame below the bowl, something like a bunsen burner. The man waits a while then repeats the process, and steps outside in the rain before repeating it again. The man is alone on the ship, except the baby and a wild dog. After a few iterations, he appears to notice me. He says something towards me, but I can't make it out, then the dog attacks, but I put a small stand between the dog and I, when the dog tries to go through it, I dash around the outside, back into the room with the baby. Run through the room and reach out for the bowl, trying to put an end to whatever it is that he is doing... End dream. In hindsight, the man probably noticed the rain collecting on my shadow, and the bowl was most likely made of iron. Must remember not to touch iron in dreams.

30-second geeky porno spin-offs: guy at a computer clicks a bunch, looks around the corner of his cube. More clicking. Looks again, curses, clicks, then gets up and walks to the printer. Fade to black. "...and there is no job."

Dream: Hellhounds. (some stuff that I can't remember... Fast forward to the alternative near future (ghost in the shell era) and a enforcement company (not law enforcement just enforcement). Pack of magically enhanced attack wolf-dogs, the leader is the largest and looks like a great dane, with smoke around the edges, and the second in command looks like an afghan hound, with shadowy spikes around the edges. Some investigator is snooping the headquarters and operations centers. The father, son, and secretary of the company have some heated discussions about how to get rid of him, but nothing seems to work. Any sort of mission failures are blamed on his meddling presence, and no one can seem to get more than an occasional glimpse of the investigator. Eventually, the son manages to trap the investigator on a rooftop, they have a scuffle and the investigator falls from the building. The son shots him several times before he hits the ground, and the attack wolf-dogs start moving into position, slowly and dutifully moving to finish the job. The last thing you see is the gaping mouth of the afghan-hound-shadow-dog. End Dream.

nervous energy: creative, no target, cool
angry energy: thoughtless, single target, warm
passionate energy: empathic, near targets, warm
peaceful energy: logical, distant targets, cool

if you had twin children, one cyclops and one unicorn...you'd really have to make sure they didn't run in the house.

The whole system of putting people in jail will eventually be re-evaluated, and only violent criminals will even have public trials. Jails cost money to maintain and operate, but it costs almost nothing to issue someone a fine. Especially with an automated system. All non-violent crime will be handled by a complex system of taxes and fees. For every mph you drive over the posted speed limit on the roadway you are on at the time, for each minute, you are fined 0.01$. For petty theft caught on camera, you are fined the value of the stolen item, plus a 5% transaction fee. When cameras, facial recognition, and GPS-enabled devices are ubiquitous, this type of automated enforcement becomes possible. Making comments that make people visually uncomfortable, 0.05$. Making comments that do not agree with the values of the party, 0.06$.

motivational poster: i'm having an OKCUPID morning.

Disney should come out with a movie that has the moral undertone of "True love isn't for everyone. You are simply too ugly and too awkward to be anyone else's special someone. Maybe, if you're lucky, you can get into an open relationship or whatever, and smoke weed all day and forget what a waste of flesh you are." Probably wouldn't make much money though.

energy, like anything, is easy to acquire, you can get it from almost anywhere. but when you try to give it away, that's when it gets ... complicated. like anything. it's especially difficult if you mean it.

minimum effort Halloween costumes: person that's overdue for their annual dental cleaning. person about to die in a motorcycle accident. infected with Ebola. hipster hockey fan. "my clown costume is in the cleaners, and my scuba suit is in the shop."

motivational poster: it only takes one ASSHOLE to ruin your day.

After bowler caps, there were ties. In a similar sort of fashion, battlecats were a form of transportation that was outfashioned by horses. When someone rides a horse, they are assumed to be a knight, because it is a status symbol. Battlecats were a similar symbol, though they mostly conjured up thoughts of roving gangs of tattoo-covered dwarves, instead of knighthood and chivalry. In the time of dumbass, battlecats made a comeback, especially for people that wished they were a roving band of tattooed dwarves.

it's a different game every time you play!