So, let's open with a joke. I'd like to. I know I am no comedian, so let's give it a little go. What did the manhole cover say to the street?
Give up?
It said "I'm glad I'm not square."
I was speaking to someone and I can't quite remember who. I don't think it was a friend. I think it was a random conversation that sparked up between myself and someone else at the gathering, because I'm near certain it was some sort of gathering with friends that I was at, otherwise I would have been on the deck of my starship. I was speaking to someone and the who is not all that important. What came out of the conversation was a comment on the work I do, performing maintenance and changing spaces and power tools and heavy tools sometimes when the work is thick and the corrections that need to be made are more intensive than pure oil changes and minor rerouting/replacement of resources.
The comment was that my job is basically life as we know it and all I have to do is mine plus a little extra whenever it's not intensive. I must say, I got offended, but I laughed it off. I got offended. Deeply offended. Do you understand how difficult life is? Do you understand how difficult maintenance is? Cutting off the infinite hydra? It has no heart. It has no organs. It has no weak points. It is impossible to kill or destroy. It will never be complete and it is constantly adapting. I wanted to break their face when they said that, but I decided to laugh instead which was good for both me and him.
As I backed my mind over the conversation about work after things died down and everyone went their separate ways and I stepped inside my airlock and sealed the door and fired up the engines and set the course back away from the sun and plotted around the minefield of asteriods too big to bounce off the shielding and hull it occurred to me that they were not spot on, but they were right.
When I am not doing heavy work, my job is to perform what I would do for myself, except duplicated. It is similar to running many instances of one life simultaneously. Without the extra relationships so you can focus pure on the bones, guts, and vessels. The blocks and supports that allow relationships to happen. It's extra relationships to me, but for the constituents its first order relationships. I maintain my ship to allow me to get the distance I want and know I need, and come and go from the inner system close to at will. What they use their fighters and runabouts and escorts and carriers and interceptors and cruisers and bombers and liners or whatever you want to call its for is their business. My business is making sure they run as well as they possibly can so they can do their business and grow their relationships as I do my own.
When it comes to work there are many ways to go about it, but they were right. I am no longer offended by it. Yeah, most of my work is life. Regular life things. That's about as much job as I can handle. I'm laughing while I say that, but it's something I've come to know about myself that I didn't really think about more clearly until that particular conversation happened and I got sickly offended. As much job as I can process is life, is the other connection I am trying to make and I think I made it good. I'm not offended at all. I control the timezone and the appointments to a degree. I set the tempo. To a degree. And that's why I love my job. It is a direct hit to my wheelhouse and not a degree more or less.
I still have to answer for what I do. I still have a difficult time performing maintenance on my own craft. Multiplied over others crafts it's like managing a motor pool and every now and then when one limps into the shipyard and drops anchor I'm happy to see it because I know I am built for it, and yeh it, the task, may be nothing fancy to you. It may be routine to you. To me it is approaching maximum output and it gives me joy to know what I work to do, and sweat to do, and bleed to do, I can do for them and theirs too and let them punch their throttles and brakes and when they turn the dual keys and sequence their hyperdrive to go see who they want to or bring their lights up for their party or plug in their laptop in their study or push their coffee table to a spot where they can put their feet up and still be sitting on their couch or activate their weapons without having to think about whether it will work or not.
Sure, it's regular shit. As much job as I can take without losing control of my own regular shit.
Alright, I'm going to try to get through this fast so I do not waste your time. There are few things worse than thieves.
Burn like a tire. The easy thing to do is burn energy by burning it. We all get that. Burn the excess. Take only what you need. I think that's the key and the dream to art's pursuit. The realized and often unrealized dream to art's pursuit and it's main reason for existence. Without art we are nothing. We are little entropy machines and we are aware enough to know this. We build up charge and build up charge and requires expense. It is not optional. We are aware that ourselves and environment are constantly approaching disarray at fantastic speed. Our awareness heightens as we approach great structure. We would not know structure without disorder built into our make up.
The easy thing to do is burn. It's not the secret of life. Each day a person wakes up they are given charge. Each day a person wakes up, their fortress has trapped free energy from the destruction around them. Destroy it. Burn it. Literally. Run in circles. Use it to create more endless fury. Or battle it. Make a declaration and take a stand and say "no." It's not about building a tower to be sent down by time or sent down by someone else. It's about recognizing that you have recognized that you are different. You know what's happening and where it ends and offering a beautiful warning. The game of putting your finger on the tip of your nose to say "not it!"
I guess I did finally get that I cannot play dumb as often as I would like to. At the same time though, what gave me pause was, I also know for sure I am not as smart as I think I am sometimes. A good portion of the time. So I'm not going to allow myself to get brassy on my own behalf. S'not playing dumb, but I would rather underestimate the jump and take too much care than overestimate the jump and take too little.
I am an awful liar. I still sweat horribly when I'm trying to spin a lie. Does it ever get difficult for you to think about who you would be if you're skillsets were rearranged when it comes to communication? I am such a bad liar, it's ridiculous. I would probably enjoy card games and games in general a lot more if I could lie better. Then again, if I had a talent for it, I would probably abuse it and beat it until the wheels fell off and I wouldn't get caught in a web. I'd get caught in a world of trouble and the very ground I walked on would be sticky as fuck.
Life without headphones has been brutal. I didn't realize how much I needed them to help me tune out products of my mind and visions and conversations happening and not actually happening and interpolations happening and not actually happening. With background I can turn the contrast up a lot higher when I am walking, forced or no, outside of the learned and mastered framework where I know exactly what is and is not imagined without having to look twice unless I have to. It's been a very rough go and very upsetting.
I went to the gas station again last night because I was very hungry and needed milk. I didn't want to go, but by the time I convinced myself it was worthwhile I was feeling pretty ready. I saw it again. Between two houses, there it was. Smack dab in front of my face and I almost yelped. I walked back and forth along the street and it was there, tracking. I just wished I had my headphones so I could put my head down and forget about it. I don't want to know it. I don't want to get to know it. I don't want it to sniff me out again or get a smell for me. What the hell were you?
Trespassing is a crime. I walked all the way up to the fence of their yard between the houses. When I touched the links and rattled them a little it ran off, but I couldn't see to where. I'm not looking forward to tonight. I don't know if I should stay or risk going out. I just don't know. I don't know where they come from. They make my skin prickle. It was so hard not to pee my underwear. I don't know what to do about it, but I'll figure something out eventually. Or hide. It is entirely possible I'm not the one it's looking for and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Entirely and absolutely possible.
At any rate. Our problems are our own and it's passed time to close up shop for a little while. Shut down hailing frequencies and allow the machines to do their work and hum and try to do some dream work. I am going to get a replacement set of headphones as soon as possible. I can't use photoshop effectively for the time being so we will try to change the face of the Auralport and OEM by hand. We can do it. I hate waiting for me. I think you don't like waiting for me too. Nothing to it, but to do it. I want to crank out a few short stories too. There is a pair that have been knocking around my skull for a few months that I've been editing up there and it is, again, passed time that I put the needle to the record and turn up the volume and relax and reread.
I do not know what's in the backwoods. I always hope the backwoods do not know me too.
Left Field - "Gussett" i wish it was raining today
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