Month: January 2020
Uncomfortable with crowds
Depression is insidious. For me, when its not overwhelming sadness, it’s self destruction. It’s eating too much. Spending too much. Pushing too hard. Overcorrecting until people are sick of it. Or staying up way too late even when I recognize that I’m tired. Even when I’m falling asleep in my chair.
And the thing is, things aren’t bad. I’m anxious for a trip I have to take for work. Basically because there will be a ton of people there and I won’t have any social cover or retreat. Other than that, I’m good.
But still I push past endurance. Still I do this. Self destruction. In service to nothing. And, while I’ve gotten better down the years, I’m still not well. I don’t even know what well looks like. And it baffles me that there are people out in the world who have no idea what this is. They never feel like this. And if they do, they shake it off. Like it’s nothing, like it’s easy.
To me, they are aliens. I can’t relate to that frame of reference. I don’t know what it is. So we are aliens to each other. Describing the indiscribable. And getting lost in the words we can’t share.
And I wonder, how many dichotomies are like this? How many fundamental schisms of perspective are there?
We share this world, but I don’t think we live in the same one. And that is the hardest thing to accept and convey. The reason we are so fundamentally divided is that we have codified our stances as fundamental parts of our being. And so, every deviation is a existential fight for identity with no person or group able to give ground. Lest we are forced to redefine our self as other.
I despair for humanity. Not because I think we are doomed but because I see the downward trend. And I don’t know if we’ll make it out. I hope there is some angle I’m not seeing. Some truth that lays fallow and unknown waiting to bring forth life.
But still its late, and even now I procrastinate.
I can still get a couple of hours of sleep, maybe.
I can control me. And maybe that’s all we could ever do. And maybe that will need to be enough.
Slow to wake when nightmares replace dreams
I wake slowly. Knowing that the extra twenty minutes I snooze my alarm to won’t matter. But I still do it. I pet the cat by my side. She rolls over my hand and goes back to sleep. I long to join her. But that extra 20 minutes was a dream. A hope which fades with every passing second. I have to get up.
It’s not a particularly hard job. Nor a harsh work environment. I’m just tired. So fucking tired of too short weekends and work weeks which drag away hours from those weekends.
It’s what fuels discontent. What makes every day a little worse. The accumulation of hours without end. Without purpose. Without hope of change.
As the day wears on, I am reminded of good things. Of love. Of hope. Of kissable lips. Of the dream of the brighter world. The sadness lingers like hot breathe against soft skin.
Quench my thirst on love. On desire. On dreams of far places, where I am becomes we. And what was becomes joy.
When an author dreams
Out past the fringes on a world run in partnership with embodied ai there is a threat coming which has already fought 3 galaxy class military cruisers. After a battle in which 2 of the ai’s ran rather than risk destruction the third sent a tightbeam containing the footage of the battle and the last backup they had to the nearest outpost. Unfortunately, at light speeds the message took 12 years to arrive and while the message was intact, the backup was incomplete. It was was clear though that the enemy had no desire to negotiate or speak and instead desired only destruction.
They spun the backup up but were disappointed to find that most of its memories of the journey out to the rim had been lost. So they had no idea what vector the threat was coming from. Central had received word from the 2 retreating ships but their telemetry was incomplete. The leader of their expedition was lost.
The leaders backup was embodied in a small vessel capable of space flight and left to its own devices. No longer relevant.
Years pass as the Ai and humans prepare for a battle they are unsure of
The little Ai is seen as an annoyance, a demenstration of the fallibility of even beings such as they.
6 years later the little ai receives a narrow beam which nearly fries his tesseract brain with an overlad of information. The remaining telemetry and backup containing a couple of years of captivity. The data is seen as suspect but they are required by law to allow the ai his memories. Now the ai is distrusted because it’s possible the memories have been tampered with
But the ai knows that what’s coming was contained in one of the tower ships commissioned by humanity to explore out beyond the fringes. Ships which came back strange and requiring human/clone crew which engage in bizzare behaviour to further some unknown goal.
One such ship resides in the ai’s system and it flies out to it after seeking the assistance of a human. Since human thoughtforms are strange and since this human was willing to listen.
They arrive and find a massive interior dedicated to some kind of game in which the humans gather some kind of power to themselves and go on a journey. Gathering more and more power until they can win the ‘game’. Everything on the ship is a game and even death is impermanent. As a new clone will be grown and the consciousness embodied there. So many deaths has resulted in a kind of memory fatigue which means it’s inhabitamts no longer realize what they were trying to win
And the most frightening thing is, this ship type was what attacked the ai fringes those many years ago
Bent penny dreams
lives too full of living
Look for some future to slow down
Breaking ourselves apart
To gain a moments respite
We cost ourselves a life
Hours of days spent in the service of the wealth of others
Gaining just enough to get by
Just enough to numb ourselves
To start all over again
I wish I could be the firebrand
Setting brush fires in fallow minds
But who has the energy
Revolution ends in destruction
In the creation of structures that resemble the same that were burned
What’s the point
Money, false scarcity, power and the indifference of those who have those things
Pay your people more
Top down doesn’t work
A wide base spending more does
Having the time to invest in ourselves
In the creation of health
In the settling of unquiet minds
Enough money to not be afraid
That’s all we’re talking about
Rough woods yields form
So easy to lose in silence
Hollow silence where not even the echo of hearts beating faintly thrums
Distant words waiting for unsaid truths
What point truth which digs dagger deep
Which burns a familiar cold
Almost like home
Like tired lines which snap shape
Which make you feel like control is there
Woefully unprepared for love
Light bleeds blue
Too slow to see
Who gets to see the space between
Where pain is just what is
And hope is just words written on leaves
And tossed out
Answers looking for questions
Homes looking for love
The blade draws its sigil
Nightmare to nightmare
Hour to hour
Waking up to an empty bed
Staring at the clock
Each hour sliding past
Waking again and again
Each moment furthering from you
That nightmare which makes waking seem paradise
Confessions made to the empty air
Tears shed in agony
Time to get up
Time to cast against the wheel
Made to love
Made to break
Brain burns without hope of tomorrow
There is a distance as warm lethargy drags me down. Cupped hands hold, eyes shielded from the light
Loud voices drift in
Talking nonsense loudly
As if to convince their last neurons of their spent future parody of truth
Dreams spin up
Nightmare into nightmare
Wake on the hour
But at least I can sleep this time
Dry river remembrance
I’m broke down tear streaked cold nosed sleep deprived humanity
In other words normal end of weekend depression
Having to go to work to earn that money to live another two weeks and spend enough to feel just a little bit in control of my pain addled life
Each day begging for an end only to stumble through my door and collapse into bed asleep
Waking up way too early
To roll the dice on forlorn hope
Fucked up that chance is the only solution that I can think of
Broken bone words splintered in forgiveness without the chance to heal
I’d give up I think
But I’d rather be if at all possible
In your arms
Eyes drift heavy
Each breathe labored
Coming ragged and wet
Dismay pulls day
Hoping the waking brings peace