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Cheering for Collective Fantastrophy

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Three years went by and suddenly I remembered [again] that livejounral.com was a thing and that I was a thing on it. Hello and here I am. I am here. For how long and until when next I forget remains to be seen.

NOW TO ACTUALLY TELL YOU ABOUT WHAT IS GOING ON IN MY LIFE.

I went to Korea for a while to teach children a mockery of the English language but spent an odd and unforseen amount of time in quarantine. Then I started making friends and having a lovely time drinking wine on the weekends writing poetry with the Men of Waste. I realized that I was quite happy and was being rather productive and creative. Then my dad had a heart attack and four strokes. I flew home to stay with him as he lay comatose, being consumed rapidly by a staph infection. We made the decision to take him off life support. He died several days later. Then about twenty hours later, my grandmother died. We drove to Michigan and buried her and then I flew back to Korea. It was an incredibly awesome two weeks. Following that, several months later I entered into a bad idea of a relationship, spent several more months brooding and being a terrible boyfriend, then we flew home and broke up. On the flight home, I lost the one jacket I ever loved.

Following that, I did a bit of wandering about states and having no particularly interesting jobs before flying to Los Angeles to stay with my brother. We helped write, produce, and put together a web series called Video Game Reunion. We shot for two weeks in Los Vegas, I acted as the production coordinator, Ninja Gaiden, and random artwork contributor. We returned to LA to continue shooting pick ups, where I did more art stuff, and realized that I had a great deal of fun being as many random roles as possible. Somewhen in there, I started dating our makeup/SFX girl, moved in with her, spent a great deal of time being drunk, eventually realized that she hated everything I loved, and then we parted ways. After which time I began working more or less full time with VGR's director, doing various art based tasks, design work, and writing. Sometime between two sentences ago and that last sentence, I also started into a phenomenal depression the likes of which I had never precisely experienced before. This led to the general erosion of all of my confidence and sense of personal well being. Meanwhile, back in Chicago, I arrived via jet airliner to preside a wedding for two very dear friends. At some point during my visit, I managed to Hiroshima an old friendship while making bedfellows with a friend I would never have thought to approach in such a way, who also happened to be the recent ex girlfriend of the aforementioned "Hiroshima-ed" friend. Later, I landed back in Los Angeles. Soon I took a job bussing tables at Club Icon, which would have actually been quite fun were it not for the three hour commute into the city. Which would have been a twenty minute commute any time I wasn't trying to get to work. I quit, despite being rather good friends with my boss.

Some time in between working my way out of said mind numbing depression and starting work at Icon, I traveled to New York to stand in my oldest friend's wedding. On the train ride up, I discovered in the course of an unexpected telephone call that the woman I've been pining over for the last six years since we sailed together on a pirate ship was at that moment on a trip to Portland, Oregon to sell that very same boat to some nutty kept folks with a large lake. Not only this, but that she was scheduled to fly into Boston the very same night that I was scheduled to fly out of New York. Naturally, without telling anyone, I called Virgin Airlines (two thumbs up and a smile) and rescheduled my flight to LA from Boston for a week and a half later. Revealing this new plot twist to my oldest friend, I discovered through him the existence of a Chinese Death Bus circuit that runs all along the east coast for the low low price of fifteen dollars US and the slight risk of death. In the meantime, the wedding was stunning, we danced excessively and drank an obtuse amount of Scotch. The next day I, friend's sister and her boyfriend got to the train back to NYC with enough time to sprint or miss it. Our conversation on the train turned into my speaking with something like an Irish accent which I of course got stuck in. This of course drew the attention of everyone else in the train car, who all, when sister and her boyfriend got off the train two stops before me, decided would start a conversation with me. They all became very helpful in my navigating a way through the subway system, where after getting lost not once, I met a group of four mid-thirties Australian punk rockers. This quartet helped me crawl out into the light of Chinatown, where I could board the death bus to Boston.

The bus ride was actually quite serene and pleasant. No one bothered me. I wrote. Then I arrived in South Station, convinced everyone there I was Irish, got a bartender to charge my phone against bar policy, and had a red haired waitress tell me what bars to go to. Then I bummed a smoke from a Korean guy that only spoke broken English because he was born and raised in, you guessed it, Germany. That's when an old lady from the bar came out, told me her husband was "also from Ireland" and helped me wander aimlessly downtown, where I found a comic book store. From there I found a street corner to stand on in the rain just long enough to receive a call coming from that very same girl I had previously mentioned concerning years of pining who happened to be in a car that happened to be driving down the street I was standing on. The car swerved to the curb, I hopped in the back seat, and we sped away.

The next week was spent being awesome, catching up, and realizing that we're stupid and took way too long to see each other. I flew back to LA to help write [Super]VGR season 2, do more VGart, and go to a Comikaze panel we got invited to. Then we got a new sweet warehouse office for the production company and landed a gig building a Resident Evil Umbrella truck for Sony for the new movie release. So I designed all the interiors for this and spent a freakish amount of time sleeping in that massive office because I had a thing for writing there until dawn. At some point we got drunk with the Minibosses. At another point I did storyboards for a RE miniseries we were extremely close to doing, but which got kaboshed by jealous marketing executives.

...

Now I'm living in Stratham New Hampshire making art, doing designs, and writing on commission. And now I'm going to urinate and go to bed. It's been really great catching up with you all.
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"The early sense of self-similarity as an organizing principle came from the limitations on the human experience of scale. How else to imagine the very great and the very small, the very fast and the very slow, but as extensions of the known?"

For all his notoriety the image of the Mad Scientist has long been respected - if not reviled, revered, abused and antagonized, among other things. The Mad Scientist is not a simple figure suffering from megalomaniacal derangements or psychopathy of a sordid sort. The Mad Scientist is a pioneer broken by the weight of his discoveries.

On some level it could be seen that this image of a man driven to the brink of sanity by the force of intellectual advancement and endeavor is not only looked upon with a sense of fear and trepidation, but also with wonder and awe. It takes genuine courage to forge ahead into realms beyond (behind?) current understanding - especially if the price seems to be a sane mind.

You see, we need the Mad Scientist. He may conceptually antagonize the populace outside himself, but he does so (wittingly or otherwise) with a force to push minds through preconception. The Mad Scientist is not merely some evil or demented figure manipulating power structures to bring others to their knees (of course, that may instantially be a part of the endeavor). He is a man driven by insight and discovery past states of mind readily understood by whatever popular paradigm he happens to have found himself in. Because few would be willing enough on their own, the Mad Scientist explores dark regions of potential. He places his own psyche on the line to draw a map of the abyss, running the risk that he could be crushed and undone by the pressures without. And so he returns to the world a changed or broken man, potentially ranting of things or in ways that few others are prepared or willing to accept. Because the world has not been where he has been, the world cannot understand. Thus the man who knows too much is feared, for knowledge is power and the Mad Scientist wields power that no one else can yet manage.

We need the Mad Scientist, for whether or not we can say that we are ready, he can show us a newer, brighter path (like an atomic flash, keke) that we could not have realized ourselves. He pushes our mental fabric to the stretching point to tell us just what it is that we might see if only we stopped to look. Still, when the mind refuses to comprehend it typically villainizes. So we make the man enemy and call him mad.

The Mad Scientist is a necessary explorer, returning with the substance potentially capable of destroying the very mateial that the popular but dated paradigm has been crafted of. He may not bring enough, but just seeing it can open the door for others to go themselves and return with more. We will strive to kill the Mad Scientist, but when all is said and done, observed and measured, he may have saved us.
Current Mood:
geeky
Current Music:
Students whispering and papers rustling
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This is one of the sweetest songs ever. Thanks Koyaanisqatsi. Listening to this on massive speakers in the dim light of several computer screens wearing some stately black duds, I feel like Bruce Wayne. It's awesome.

I really want to build a cave lair. Preferably under some monumental structure. We're talking underwater volcanoes with magma-formed tree towers growing out of them, all the way out of the waterline in arctic regions. That kind of thing. We'll hollow it out and put in all kinds of industrial megatech pipes and grates and corridors in the tree thing and the volcano itself. I'll build a library there. Maybe write encyclopedia entries. This is what I want to do with my life.

* * *
I rediscovered this site on accident. I'd quite literally forgotten about it. How about that.
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Carry a torch to light the way and give rise to shadows! Snuff it out, stumble around. Have a good time - and if you feel like you're going to vomit, just spit like a camel and take satisfaction in knowing you hit the darkness every time.

He spends the most of his days there at the Academy, tending to that that needs tending to. Rest of the time, he wanders off to the Archives or down to the Lab. A solitary example, but productive nonetheless. No one really knows what he's doing at any point, and sometimes he asks himself the same question when he's walking by a hello. Occasionally impulse takes hold and he jets off world to start trouble. He likes to say he goes looking for it, just to sound cool to the kids, but it finds him just the same.

Meditations are frequent, but they always seem to come out sideways. It's hard to tell though, when a guy can't figure out a relative point of comparison in the first place. So he sleeps in a crypt lit by candles and hopes it establishes some kind of inspiring environment, but it mostly just makes him think of Sarah McLachlan, or maybe the Crow - which just makes him consider moving to a higher place in a taller building. Then he just gets antsy wanders off again.
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Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colours from our sight,
Red is gray and yellow white,
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion?
Pinprick holes in a colourless sky,
Let insipid figures of light pass by,
The mighty light of ten thousand suns,
Challenges infinity and is soon gone.
Night time, to some a brief interlude,
To others the fear of solitude.
Brave Helios wake up your steads,
Bring the warmth the countryside needs.


Dawn is a feeling
A beautiful ceiling
The smell of grass
Just makes you pass
Into a dream

You're here today
No future fears
This day will last
A thousand years
If you want it to

You look around you
Things they astound you
So breathe in deep
You're not asleep
Open your mind

You're here today
No future fears
This day will last
A thousand years
If you want it to

Do you understand
That all over this land
There's a feeling
In minds far and near
Things are becoming clear
With a meaning

Now that you're knowing
Pleasure starts flowing
It's true life flies
Faster than eyes
Could ever see

You're here today
No future fears
This day will last
A thousand years
If you want it to.

Tuesday, afternoon,
I'm just beginning to see,
Now I'm on my way,
It doesn't matter to me,
Chasing the clouds away.

Something, calls to me,
The trees are drawing me near,
I've got to find out why
Those gentle voices I hear
Explain it all with a sigh.

I'm looking at myself, reflections of my mind,
It's just the kind of day to leave myself behind,
So gently swaying thru the fairy-land of love,
If you'll just come with me and see the beauty of

Tuesday afternoon.
Tuesday afternoon.

Tuesday, afternoon,
I'm just beginning to see,
Now I'm on my way,
It doesn't matter to me,
Chasing the clouds away.

Something, calls to me,
The trees are drawing me near,
I've got to find out why
Those gentle voices I hear
Explain it all with a sigh.
* * *
Should I chop off all my hair or what?
* * *
I'm sitting shirtless, hunched over a table in upper-east Manhattan. There are papers everywhere, malas and charms strewn about candles and buddha statuettes. It's 3.30am and I'm leaning over a bowl I mixed with Raisin Bran, Grape Nuts, Honey Nut Cherios and some fresh green grapes - all dry, if you don't count the grapes. I'm shivering or twitching or something, and I don't think it's because I'm cold. The Flaming Lips have been reaming one riff in my head for I don't know how long and I think I'm down to the last grape in the bowl.

It took three hours and five trains to get back to the highrise, and I swear I still hear waves crashing outside the window... but I think it's just a garbage truck. This is life and I love it. I just don't know how I'll explain my midnight urge to desperately fill a bowl full of random bran items with violently shaking hands to my aunt. I'm pretty sure I ate the last of the Raisin Bran.

I'm also pretty sure I need more grapes. God, this is good shit. I could use a cigarette.
* * *
I wonder how many of us are torn away from thinking about ourselves only because someone else breaks in wanting us to think about them for a change.
* * *
A great number of us held, penned up in some kind of detention facility. Walls were like old, beaten steel, with benches to match protruding. We were all seated, shackled together side-by-side. We were all found for the same reason. Everyone detained in these chambers had an ability of some kind. The guy next to me could fly. The guy across from me was super strong. Flying guy apparently already knew what I could do.

"You're going to come out of here not knowing your ass from your elbow, man! You're surrounded by us - what are you going to do??"

I knew what he was talking about, but it was too late, and I'd already begun to blank out. I woke up in a van.

We were driving to an abandoned gas station to pick up some food. We'd need it for the events to come. Some people became heroes here, and come became villains. A bit of a random draw kind of deal, mixed with each person's own particular orientation. Ontop of that, ordeals were placed within the area limits - like, bombs and the what not. The villains would try to see to it that these catastophes occurred, while the rest of us tried to stop them.

Wherever we were, though, it wasn't designed for us. It was like we were all just dumped into the projects somewhere, so the locals just had to deal with us - make the games more real and all that. I was still reeling form the holding pens, and couldn't tell what I could even do. The people I was with told me to relax, and that it would come in time. When we got to the station, we grabbed some food and got moving. I had an inkling to fly. So when I tried, I took off and left the others behind - sort of an accident.

I landed in a mall with sections missing from the walls. More of the non-players, the locals, were gathered here. Which is probably why there happened to be a bomb planted in one of the department stores. I met a woman in an emerald green costume. I guessed shed been playing a while longer than I had, which is why she had built an alter ego. Or just an ego. Either way, she seemed famous around the area, like the local hero. So she decided to handle the bomb and told me to stay put. I talked to some of the locals and told them I was a new hero, and they told me that a villain was seen coming in from another direction. So I ran a few steps and leapt to fly - only to end up with my face in the dirt.

They all laughed, but I was mortified. The one ability I'd found I'd taken, I lost. So I turned to run after the strong lady, passing my friend Moises on the way. He was dressed like a space pirate and had a very large gun in his hand. He was also apparently the leader of a gang. He said they were villains, but his heart wasn't much in it. He let me run off in the lady's direction. When she saw me, she instantly cried, "I lost my strength! Can you fly??"

It was as though, when I saw her looking helpless, I started floating again. The bomb was incredibly heavy, but after being around her, I could lift it. She told me that she was the only one she'd seen break through a power-outage. I told her it would be fine and flew off with the bomb in tow. I was readying to throw it out the window and into the sky, but then I woke up.
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