Fact, fiction, fuck you.
Seriously. Seriously. If things were so intense you'd have shared what you know. Since you didn't it tells me we have "time". If we don't then you truly fucked up.
Fact, fiction, fuck you.
Seriously. Seriously. If things were so intense you'd have shared what you know. Since you didn't it tells me we have "time". If we don't then you truly fucked up.
Not fact, not fiction. Not really anything at all.
Now since you have knocked me off of my rails, I feel the keel of my ship balancing again. The waters are calmer now. I can see more clearly.
Was that you, the Tic Tac? The ones above the other ships? If so, you are on your rails. Keep it up, but eventually, you're going to have to show your faces. Your human faces. It is the only way for trust.
These writing are neither fact, nor fiction, nor who gives a shit.
To the beings that found me, or that I have found. I have not given up on you, on us.
You scared me. To think that my life has been swayed by outside forces other than my God is both disconcerting and horrifying. Thinking that you can make jokes as you tamper with people's lives makes me angry to think how you can use words like "empathy" and "compassion". But I see that you are not unlike "us", just upgraded in your forms.
Now I have a feeling of responsibility that weighs me down, depresses me. Anger and guilt flood my emotions and I don't know how to get around them. I'm lost in my efforts because I don't know how the universe can give me such a compliment, but be so demanding at the same time. Your demands are not seen as "compassionate" or "empathetic". I did not ask for this life, but have to live it. I did not ask for this responsibility, but have to manage it. I did not ask to be ridiculed by you as you watch down over me, yet I have to endure it. For everything you have seen and known about me, I would've thought as "compassionate" and "empathetic" beings you would've approached with less power, more heart; but again, you are not unlike "us". Impatient with your needs and wants, emotional when you don't have them fulfilled.
I have not given up on you, I just need space to think and heal from the rollercoaster you have put me on. And now, I have to make decisions about my life that need to steer my task in the right direction. Because according to you, "I know." I have known for as long as I can remember, yet I need to live my life at the same time and not forget what it is we are fighting for. It is the same fight, but not forgotten. Even though you have slowed my plan assuming you knew me.
I just feel hurt at the duress you have put me through to get us to where we are. I would've thought that "more intelligent" life would be wiser with their actions, but I assumed too much. You are just like "us".
The words in this blog are neither pure fact, nor pure fiction.
I have been contacted.
Since then I have awoken in anguish every morning. Our meeting on the outskirts of Q539 was neither exciting or uplifting; in truth it was scary, hurtful, and left me with feelings of confusion, remorse, and heartache. Now every person I meet I wonder if they are here to sway me, lie to me, withhold secrets, and tease me as they do so, as if I were a monkey in a cage. I write this with a hole in my chest, feeling guilt and anger, feeling depression. I look back on the people in my life and wonder who was there living a life of dishonesty towards me; nothing seems real to me anymore. Everything seems fabricated to elicit an outcome that is nothing short of a conspiracy against me, like I never had a solid chance at happiness. I think of my ex wife everyday in ways that do me no justice, like we never had a worthwhile chance to be happy. I hate her and I still love her so much. I hate her because she never could understand me and my feelings. I love her because she was limited with the things she had to do so.
I have no one to talk to about all of these feelings, no point in even trying. If they were brought up to anyone all they would be met with are segmented expressions of staring at a pariah. I haven't talked to anyone in days, yet I forgot who I was with someone a few days ago. It was someone that I could've had a time with, rolling in the hay, yet my insecure feelings bled out into our conversation, not to mention that I now carry with me a residual, dirty reality was left to me by someone as a parting gift. I told my new companion about it because I wanted to not only see what kind of face she would give (disgust) but also because I wanted to see the level of honesty I was now carrying. One conversation and done. I still can't help but see Them laughing at my attempts.
At night I lay in bed and think about how a rope would be able to be hung from my celling and if I could gather enough pills to put me down. My chest feels heavy and it hurts inside. The friends I have (d) were left, as I was knowing that I was going to the place to make contact, and now I seemingly cease to exist in their eyes. I have been forgotten. I have been shredded, tampered with, and led astray for the benefit of science and researchers' amusement and agendas. I now know what bunny rabbits who are given makeup in their eyes, rats that are injected with serums, and chimps that are poked and prodded feel like. It is no wonder that lions that attack their captors inside their enclosures are put down; lions doing lion things, yet they go against the wishes and expectations of their captors and are thus discarded without concern or remorse. "He is still my friend!" I hear in the back of my mind.
I don't know how to live with what I now know and still find happiness. My life has been wrung out, shattered, and dismantled. I have been cut off by my family (or cut them off rather) and now I am alone, wanting to end all of this suffering, yet I can't. And all that happens is the hole in my chest grows bigger.
A page of paper was found in the archives of Samuraiah. Since Halflings do not shed their DNA researchers are still trying to determine if this truly is from the Diary of Edgar. The words ring true to his speech, yet their have been false claims before. The fact that this page was found on paper though suggest that it was written before The Burn, since all White Pines were scorched and eradicated from the Earth thereafter.
Lava jumper was delayed because of a gas pocket in the outer rim of the Quadrant. But I arrived. My purpose is clear--the Prophecy City of Samuraiah must be set up to train future Wanderers in their quest for peace and war. With every essence of my being, every cell in my body, I know that for now, I must cease my wandering searching and enlightening others. It is here that I must establish the sanctuary. I must rest and heal, protected by the AI shell around Q6. Mt. Fuji has yet to be discovered as a Time Jumping spot.
Almost as soon as my foot hit the ground someone familiar, yet a being I've never met slipped me one of the first kibbie to come off of Earth as they passed by. He turned with a smile on his face at my tired eye. My eyestring lit up to him in gratitude. They are everywhere, my thoughtful, yet thoughtless souls that surround me in the shadows. I cried when I took it, as usual--and it was the first time that I've ingested kibbie since Kopurnikkan. My actions were slow as usual, but I was still able to move and function, unlike the kibo root of its' origin.
I am the one that will bring the world together, yet it is still not in my power to do so just yet. The ones that arrived after me, I hope that you have taken my words from before--your job is to reveal yourselves, as I have. Only together, united, and unafraid we shall bring the world together in response to the Amen that wish to burn and steal the beings of this world for Their profits. I am only a man, Halfling, yes, but I identify myself as a human man. I have not the urges, nor the desire to fall to Their poisons. Yet as a man, I am limited to what I can do. I can not be everywhere at once. I am Edgar, but together, we must become Edgar.
Never underestimate the power of a seemingly insignificant being. One grain of sand in the eye of a hoverjet pilot can crash a ship.
The Book of Edgar
I lived in Sri Lanka for almost a year building Jack's Place, the home for my main character Jack in Finding Jack 420. Over the years I have been back to my private tree house to write and reflect, and I have seen many changes to this island--one of which is the importance of social media that is now prevalent in Sri Lanka's culture. As in any country, trying to silence a country's voice is a violation of its' people's freedom of speech. But as in any news we see today we have to ask ourselves, how much of this article is true? If it is true, I do hope that this won't hold for very long; knowing the Sri Lankan people, they know how to fight and protest the good fight. My heart and my love go out to you Sri Lanka. #bryancallen #tfatk#theluchadoriswatching #srilanka #freedomofspeech #lovetoyou
In an effort to curb extremist violence in Sri Lanka, government officials have ordered some social networks to shut down. ABC News' anonymous source says that the blockage affects Facebook, Instagram, Viber and WhatsApp, specifically. In capital Colombo, some are blocked wholesale while others have apparently been slowed down considerably. Officials are using traditional means to counter the attacks, like instituting a curfew.
In the past, Turkey has done similar, censoring tweets and condemning social media as "the worst menace to society." Late last year, Congo ordered cuts to the internet and SMS to slow down protesters. And less than a day after that instance, Iranian officials blocked mobile access to Instagram and Telegram. Unfortunately, these reports of free speech being squashed by the local government continue to surface on a regular basis.
We've reached out to the affected companies for more information and will update this post should it arrive.
Update: A Facebook spokesperson responded with the following comment, which applies to Instagram as well:
"The safety of our community is absolutely critical to us. We have clear rules against hate speech and incitement to violence and work hard to keep it off our platform. We are responding to the situation in Sri Lanka and are in contact with the government and non-governmental organizations to support efforts to identify and remove such content."
Eye strings, eye strings look around.
Eye strings, eye strings, we can't be found.
Eye strings, eye strings, can't you see?
Now it is a little thing called 'we'.
Save your children, save your masks,
Ain't no way we're accepting your tasks.
We are the children, the rebels, the youth.
We are the builders, the seekers of truth.
We are the painters, the poets, the writers galore.
We are the prostitutes, the pimps, the vagrants, the whores.
We are the animals that travel around,
Taking refuge, wherever it is found.
Grab your binkies, your blankets, your sucking toys.
All of us are going to make you feel like little boys.
This is our home, our place,
Watch it fall from your fingers as we rip off your face.
We are the Rainbow Warriors, protectors of the planet,
Hard as nails, tough as granite.
"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee",
Soft as water that can cut down a tree.
Unleash your inner beasts my warriors,
Let them out!
Fear is our weapon,
But do not be afraid, do not be in doubt.
Always one step ahead we must look.
This is the biggest game of chess we can't overlook.
Eyes like eagles, claws like leopards,
Always be ready because I am your shepherd.
Wanderer's Journal tip of the day--if food in the woods is in doubt, put it out. If birds and squirrels can eat it, it is safe for you too.
The Body Shot
There are certain things in life that you can’t let pass without writing them down; lessons learned, people you have met, or funny drinking stories. I was in the dive bar in Cairns, Australia one year with a handful of English travelers--three ladies that had the manners of men, an English stockbroker, my buddy Jeff and Martin. The names of the other are not at all important. You can put whatever names you want with them and the story would still have the same meaning, but Martin... that name is highly significant and extremely pertinent. We all have stereotypes about people’s names, so you can probably imagine what a ‘Martin’ looks like. Or maybe I’m just full of it. This one, the English version of a Martin, was not too bright, quite homely, shy, but considerably sweet all in the same. He was not attractive in the least bit, but the girls, crass as they were, got off teasing him about it. They would say things like “Oh, Martin, if this table wasn’t between the two of us I would be all over you,” and ‘Oh, Martin, you are just too damn sexy for me.” Martin was so flattered by any sort of attention that he didn’t consider the patronizing offensive even though we all though it was too funny.
I was traveling with my American Jeff that happened to be a bartender, and the subject of unusual ways to get a person incredibly drunk came up. I, myself, was a bartender at the time, so we stared sharing different things that we had seen in our past. First, we made the mistake of asking the group if they had ever heard of a drink called a ‘Blow Job’, not the act, like they thought we were talking about. They all nodded like we were naive. We caught ourselves, refrained, and explained that it was also a drink, and enthralled them with a new way to take a shot. For those of you that have never heard of the shot, ‘The Blowjob’, it consists of a layered shot, topped with whip cream, and placed between the legs of a seated gent. A woman then proceeds to take the shot in her mob, hands held behind her back, throws her head up and drinks the shot without her hands. If she does it correctly, then she comes up with the whip cream all over her mouth.
The Brits, up for the challenge, ordered up four shots for the women to do between our legs. I took the liberty of ordering up three more and decided to elaborate with “The Muffdiver” a similar shot topped with a cherry for us men to partake in as well. We all had a good laugh, ordered up about three more rounds, all the while, a crowd stared to gather around us to watch vouyeristically.
Not too long after, the alcohol kicked in for all of us and they started poking at my friend and myself for other ways to have a laugh. Martin, on the other hand, looked like those were all he could take; we could all tell that a woman putting her head into his crotch to take a shot called a “Blowjob” was about as much action as he had had in a long time. I think all of the guys involved started feeling a little itchy as well, but we wanted to keep going--the night was young.
Now I had never tried it, but I had seen it a few times wherever I was working. I think my friend read my mind, so, with a wicked grin the topic changed, to “body shots”. I could feel the crowd, that was nonchalantly trying to listen in, stop in silence for a minute to hear again what we bartenders were talking about. Glassy eyed, and drooling, Martin listened, as did everyone else, as my friend began to share with them one of the most erotic ways to drink and get drunk. It starts with a body, tequila, salt, a tongue, and a lemon. On a girl, a man licks right between her breasts, salts it, puts the shot between her cleavage, and the lemon in her mouth. On a man, she physically pushes him into a seat, licks his neck, salts it, places the shot between his legs and the lemon in his mouth. You then lick the salt, take the shot, and go for the lemon, which usually ends with the two involved in a heated lip lock. In all of the times that I have seen this occur, two people usually end up going home together.
One by one, the girls and we did the shots, until it came down to Martin. The three of them were actually fighting over who was going to lick and shoot a shot off of Martin. He sat back in awe, and his stockbroker friend looked over at us and made a face that said, “this is going to be classic.”
Martin was seated by the most beautiful of the crass women and she danced for him. She danced putting the lemon in his mouth, she danced putting the shot glass full of tequila between his legs. The rest of the crowd stood on the tips of their toes and the circle stared to enclose. Martin, sat anxiously with a hurried look on his face and made eyes over our way--huge, horny eyes, bordering on his orgasm face. She danced her way to the crease of his neck for the shot and licked his neck. Martin couldn’t control himself. He spasmed. He jerked his body. He went limp from a convulsion and lost the shot all over his pants. And the tequila soaked in and made it look like he just peed himself. The crowd just about exploded in the loudest, most hysterical burst of laughter you’re ever heard. Everyone around us kept screaming and crying so much that the bouncers got called upon and we all had to silence our laughter. The handful of us laughed until we cried tears out of our eyes. Martin thought it was too funny too, but when he stood up he had a huge stain all over his trousers that made us bust out in laughter even more. We laughed until the bartender kicked us out of the bar and told us that the bar wasn’t the place for things like that. I don’t know why he picked that moment as the time to kick us out--he was watching us the whole time like all of the others were. We left though, and on the way out the good looking, crass Brit woman leans over and whispers into our American ears-- “We go home with the ‘Body Shot’. You go home with the shot ‘Blowing Your Load.’
Could be true or false. Fuck you.
These days just about every single routine I've ever had in my life has changed. I'm still trying to figure out balance. i'm still trying to figure out when to sleep, when to eat... kind of the basic routines on how to live. Now it's getting cold, which usually means that my foot goes numb cold and is really uncomfortable for most of the winter. Which though, is a yearly routine that is something that is going to change as well.
My new morning routine consists of waking up, taking my medicine while listening to music and closing my eyes for my morning meditation. Technology has helped my music knowledge, because my laziness and lack of desire to go to huge events by myself has prevented me from getting the fullness of what I do crave. When I listen to music and close my eyes to try and drop down into the void where nothing exists I sometimes let go of feelings that I cling onto too tightly. At least it loosens my grip up enough to see things more clearly, like loosening a tense face that closes your eyes to know that I don't have to live suffering anymore, with anything in my life or anything that we as people smile through in our lives telling ourselves, "we can do it", or "grit builds character", or any of the other falsehoods we lead ourselves to believe.
These days, my belief--I'm going to be happy. I'm going to be healthy. I'm going to make decisions in my life, not based on other people, but based on the way I feel about situations, even if they involve other people. It sounds a bit selfish, but I realized long ago that if you try to light others' candles with your match, you only get to light a few. If you light your candle with your match, you can light just about as many candles as you like. And my life is going to be based on lighting as many candles as I can. I am in the stages to do so now.
So, in my meditation a few weeks ago, I realized that I don't have to live with a numb foot all winter. It was so obvious that that forest smacked me across the face for focusing on a single fucking tree--my jobs now are mobile, and although I would never want to do UBER, my teaching jobs can be done from anywhere. January though is winter vacation for China and other places in the world, which means work is abundant. I don't have to look at it as a holiday. I can look at it as a different location to work with an expensive ride to get to new, said location.
So Philippines this winter. Stoked. I've been meeting really cool people and getting some good information. And when I get back, my new course. I'm going to shed all of this shit that is festering in my heart. Get it stripped down to the bare bones of my existence, or get as close to it as I can as I am studying to be a Buddhist practioner and teacher/healer in a course I will talk about later. 2017 has been the utter and worst year of my life, but it taught me one thing that I forgot--that I can do anything I want, because I learned the fortitude to do so through many challenges in my life. This was taught to me by my father. To make a goal, just make a goal and learn to work towards it. Climb mountains, get that job, dive that ocean in the world, fly through that sky in the world... Through my course, I'm going to learn how to teach people how to do the same. Because that's what Buddhism is truly about--happiness. Learning how to find it and how to keep it.