Author: Pelgris

Half awake fall

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I woke up early this morning and found myself reading articles on Medium. As I often do. But today I came across things that led me down the self reflection route.

I haven’t found anything new. Not really. Though I do see a certain lack of certainty. An intellectual understanding of the positions of others which may have been a visceral understanding prior. I think I’m shielding my emotions more.

I feel distant and compartmentalized. Yet I still cry and feel and laugh. Joy and sorrow are a part of my heart and I feel them.

So it’s not like the wall I built before. The house of closed doors where nothing was felt. And it’s not like the tsunamic aftermath of that wall breaking. Nor is it the flayed sadness which permeated after.

This is new. And I’m not sure how I feel about it.

It makes the days and people easier to cope with. But it also makes the words and thoughtforms of art harder to feel. Its like a little magic has gone out of the world to foster stability.

I don’t know what I think about it.

Quiet Sunday’s

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We are all monsters to some and saviors to others
Neither is wholey true or wholey false
Until we can embrace this truth we will continue to find ourselves beholden to the trumpets of falsehoods
As we weaken our ability to see with our inability to accept truth
The acceptance of a lie will always make us vulnerable to more
Until we are mired in them
the only solidity is found by first standing up
And accepting that we are drowning

Far enough away to see

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Coursing motes streak through veins
Each sharp as splintered hopes
Each cold as night with no moon in the dark of winter
Calling out
We are seen
We are known
And in the blind truth of waking
We find ourselves alive
Alive in silence
The deep quiet that shakes the world
Slower breathes
Deeper
The kiss of a world made distant by constant noise
Rediscovery
With the vain hope of holding on
To a few more hours
Of being whole

False ‘sins’

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I like everything about Vegas except that it’s Vegas.
I like the lights. That it never seems to sleep. That there are restaurants beyond Denny’s that are open 24/7. I like that the people are present but that they ignore you. I like the high desert and the distant mountains. It all adds up.

But, the frenetic entropic energy of cycled hope and despair which is the core of the city is a drain. The false veneer which residents acknowledge with a nod and a wink grates on me. It is like living in a eggshell. Cozy and brittle. A shorter than normal step from oblivion. And it’s a company town. Every aspect of it is run by the conglomerates which present a different face but reach with the same hands. The law and the power is wielded to enforce the tourist industry. And no statistics which show else is allowed. I know. I’ve looked.

I’ve read the “aw, shucks it’s just people” articles that attempt to justify it. They fall short of the mark.

It’s an interesting town to visit. But it’s not one I’d find myself in again and again. Plastic places pretending to be real.

Uncomfortable with crowds

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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

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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

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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