sci-fi and aliens

Irreparable

Q9

Or is it? 

I am Edgar Phillipe.

I sit here and write to a universe that doesn't respond in the same language. You are shallow and want to be deep. You are calculating, but callous. You are manipulative but mundane. 

Yet, I feel it's enough with the insults. I'm trying to get past that, but you won't let me relax or forget. I appreciate that. No, really I do. There are benefits to being the Chosen One. Or... the one chosen... or, the chosen fool. I must cure my anger and hate, clear myself of the shit-stained heart I have. Because when I think of it, I think of you. And I'm angry. Strike me down if you like. You apparently have full reign (as of now) of our planet, but for me to catch you (or to always have known) has allowed me to be honest. Truly honest. And that strips away my sadness.

How can I trust a handful of beings that wants me to get stoned and then approach? How can I trust a group of beings that wants to construct a narrative that can never be fully reproduced with trust? It's almost as if you just wish to brush me with fairy dust and let me stew in the aftermath, like a dream that never happened. If things were so important, you would come to me in a language I would be able to understand. You would come to me with sincerity and openness. And don't try to tell me that speaking in whispers is what has gotten things done for you over the millennium. 

If you have discovered this world, and if Captain Cooke was not the rightful founder of New Zealand and Australia, you can't seem to get your shit together in a way that is organized, forthright, or just. You speak in limericks and parables that you think I, Edgar Phillipe, will accept. I am a human (even though I am a Halfling), and I will not tolerate your bullying. I do not care about prophets, destiny, or expectations. I do not care about saving a world that you lost control of. I am not here to be your janitor, nor your savior. If you want salvation, then be free. Free yourself from the control you seek. Free yourself from the manipulation that you feel you need. We are not babies that need to be swayed. If you are our creators, then you need to accept the responsibility that you didn't "fuck him up", but fucked up this world.

Only when you can free yourselves is when this planet can ultimately be free. We are like the high schoolers that are trying to break free from our parents. You must let us go. We cannot be saved by your hand anymore. 

 

15 years...

I have been writing this book for 15 years. To do research for it I have studied tae kwon do, hapkido, kickboxing, muay thai, boxing, sword fighting, and jiujitsu, which is now my new love. I've had my neck twisted, bones broken, stitches in places you couldn't imagine, tattoos, blown out a knee, and a bamboo skewer pierced my foot, nearly severing it, close to bleeding all the way out; I almost died in a forest in Thailand chasing this story. I have learned how to rock climb so I can know what it feels like for Doc to rescue a slave lead climbing a chimney. Then almost died again free climbing a 15m chimney doing just about everything you shouldn't do as a climber, just because I was at a point in my life where I didn't care how my limits were pushed. And I wanted to see what Doc would do. I went to diving school in Thailand just to make sure I got all of the terminology correct. I learned how to speak Japanese, Sinhalese, Spanish, and Korean, meditated in a Buddhist temple for a year, slept on the street, jumped borders... all to try to understand the life of the Wanderer Doc in the story. This story is, has been, and always will be, my life.  Regardless if it sells or not, I'm glad I finished it.

For about 5 years I wasn't at all serious about it, and for another 2 - 3 years I couldn't even bear the thought of doing anything with it. Just thinking about it made me physically sick. I don't know why - maybe because I was the one that was standing in my own way. Isn't that the case for anything that we haven't accomplished yet? It's all about ourselves getting out of our own way, stepping on and all over our own egos in order to get the shit done that we need to do, done. And now I just feel like my brain is lighter, like that proverbial monkey on the back isn't there anymore and I can breathe more freely. It's a liberating feeling, and I don't know why I didn't go after this feeling sooner. Wait, yeah I do know - because it wasn't time yet, and it was meant to teach me patience. And to never give up.