1000 First Pages by Oliver Agony

It is ironic to me that my first honest to goodness rejection...

Sat, 26 May 2012 18:47:52 -0400

It is ironic to me that my first honest to goodness rejection letter, the start of the climb towards my personal speculative fiction Frabjous day should begin with an editor who has failed to note the correct spelling of my name.

The same, I thank you for your candor and your patience with my verbosity. You cannot imagine what it means to have an official rejection to go on my Stephen King railroad spike; it means that I am real after all.

Ditto.D

Truth or Dare

Sat, 26 May 2012 13:22:00 -0400

Confession; I like to pretend like I am having conversations with my idols. Sometimes I call it the manifestation of the collective conscious in my head, sometimes I think of it as the classic brazen head metaphor. Either way it keeps me amused.

Yesterday while researching my current project I found a quote from J.K. Rowling that made me realize that she was worthy of inclusion in my metaphorical Sherlock Holmes Lady in Scarlet interactive memory cabinet;

“I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being—forgive me—rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger.”

To which my reply is “You’re my kind of broad. And by that I mean that I love women who have expansive imaginations. Often much to my own detriment in fact.”

The reason this quote resonated with me was because it contained both an acceptance of her own brilliance and the humility to admit that she is still human.

This is something I have struggled with myself, going through literally decades of sabotaging my own intelligence as I searched for myself. And also the conclusion which I have come to which is that it is ultimately one’s humility to themselves which really matters in terms of success and happiness.

The cool thing about J.K. though is that unlike most of the speculative fiction authors that I have come to love, such as Robert Anton Wilson, Timothy Leary, Ray Bradbury, Frank Herbert, Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Robert A. Heinlein, Jose Phillip Farmer, Confucius, Sun Tzu, Arthur C. Clarke, Douglas Adams and so on, she is still alive and relatively young. So there still exists a chance to someday meet and duel this self-made billionaire who’s light gives me hope. Even if I did have to sit through 8 movies to finally get to the point where Harry trumps his own 8-circuit programming by overcoming the horcruxes of his own ego.

Not that there are not plenty of other living authors that I’d love to chat with such as Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, Terry Prachett, Spider Robinson, Banksy, Timothy Zahn, etc… Just that the wall which exists between here and the 1% 31337 is so great that I have to guess that they don’t even imagine that out there someplace is one lonely repairman who can relate.

Which is somehow more sad and alienating than the voices of the dead which speak in my head through virtually artificial reality technology, no wonder I tend to prefer their company.

The Farce is the Flux of the Flow of the Force (Yes, ~that~ Force!)

Sat, 26 May 2012 13:09:05 -0400

Dear Eddie,

Given the previous lack of response, I hope that you are still willing to indulge in our conversation a little further. Trusting that if I did not have a vital point to make I wouldn’t even be wasting the keystrokes required to type this missive. And that yes, as Auntie Bonnie reminds me, I really do appreciate your time in communicating with me.

In response to my original proposal you made the observation that “you are communicating about a book of fiction.” If you go back and read, you will find nothing in what I wrote which either suggests or does not suggest this; it was your own assumption.

Therefore under your own terms of evaluation, how is Oliver Agony any different than other outrageous superheroes? Such as Superman, The Green Lantern, The Flash or any other hero for that matter?

Why are you judging this character on the rationality of your own belief in reality when it is clearly fantasy?

Which, I must point out in the most polite terms seems precisely indicative of exactly the ignorant condition which this hero is trying to fix; i.e. people taking themselves too gorsh darn seriously.

The point of my story is that Oliver Agony is the only real super hero in a world just like ours and has been imbued with the most unlikely power imaginable; Bacon*.

So, could you please explain why you are judging this character then as if they were a real person in the real world?

Ditto.D

*B.S. An example of Bacon as a super-power comes from the most simple wisdom of lawgick; Only the guilty accuse (as only the guilty have the knowledge to accuse from) such as my Auntie Bonnie.

Who, while in one grammatically ill-conceived and wretched paragraph, for instance, accuses myself of needing strong editing. When in fact through the content of her communication is demonstrating the even more urgent need for her own writing to undergo such scrutiny. A fact which appears to be especially ironic when I have already told her that “It is a small mined witch in deed and indeed can think of only a single way to spiel.”

This is of course my takeoff on Andrew Jackson’s “It is a damn poor mind that can think of only one way to spell a word” and a very important point; as it is my mistakes which prove that I’m human. A characteristic which cannot be attributed to most of this world’s closed-minded sheeppl as they TXT auto-corrected nonsense to each other like insecure and robotic rats on a sinking starship.

And also yourself, when you say “I am trying to envision a disgruntled Zen repairman. It’s hard.” which is completely indicative of the standard western ignorance which exists with regard to the actual nature of Zen.

Zen is the way of the warrior who fights for inner peace. In case you had never noticed, this is why the Taijitu that you Yanks so garishly call a “yin-yang” contains intermingled black and white. This is symbolic of an understanding that it is death which defines life. Furthermore this also contains the secret to accessing our own personal memory systems visually through meditation. As it is a metaphor for overcoming the function of our own egos, super-egos and Ids.

Oliver Agony is disgruntled preciously because of his personal Zen enlightenment.

Imagine finding perfect peace in your life, happiness and contentment with everything you do. Then, suddenly a wider world opens up and it turns out that the 99.996% of the population who are ignorant of how to empower their enlightenment are threatening to destroy the world for precisely the same misunderstanding of Zen which you yourself have shown.

Imagine sitting with the weight of the world on your shoulders, with the majority of people not even acknowledging your existence to the point of Gattaca-esque invalidation. Would this not disgruntle you? Or would you simply choose to sit back and watch the world burn along with everything you love?

In Spider-Man, the great silver-age counterpoint to Shuster and Siegel’s golden era Superman template (itself born undoubtedly from Nietzschean ideals of a beyond good and evil Übermensch) Stan Lee has gone through the effort of pounding one ideal into the mind of all his readers; “with great power comes great responsibility.”

Oliver is an Übergeek through and through, which means that amongst all the characters which he’s been exposed to he believes axioms such as “vengeance is never justified.” A point that comes from an episode of the animated Spider-man where the character believes that he has lost everything he loves. How many today have the courage to stand up for what they believe in by no succumbing to vengeance? This is how real heroes fight for peace.

Personally, I think this makes for a fascinating character with the potential to resonate with the millions of fans worldwide that are sick of dejamnesia reruns and reboots. When what we really are thirsty for are new heroes with new ideas for a new world.

I will give auntie Bonnie credit for being genuine though. Which is actually, in case you were not aware, is the rarest commodity in this cosmos.

And perhaps she’s right, as I am certainly prone to my own cases of verbal diarrhea, so maybe I do need a strong editor.

Do you know where I can find one?

Or, if you honestly believe that there is no interest in this character. Could you please clue me in to what the world wants today so I can get on with actually writing a book as opposed to making wild propositions in the dark?

The thing which makes Oliver Agony special or unique is his desire to never stop learning. I had felt that because you had listed education on your website as one of your interests that you would find this otherwise normal repairman’s MacGuyer-esque instinct to be of interest as he struggles to solve problems with his head instead of deus ex machina McGuffins.

An open mind means precisely that; limitless.

Also, this is not meant to be a deeply complex or philosophical story, it is simply the absurd observations of one repairman on the rest of his species inane self-inflicted struggles.

Dear Auntie Bonnie,

Sat, 26 May 2012 13:05:10 -0400

I am about to send another message to Eddie and I wanted to make sure that it is written with the greatest humour and no insult is meant towards you.

As you are well aware I treasure your experienced author’s insight into what I am doing.

However, I am also starving, borrowing money to pay bills, when what I really need is an advance so that I can go out and catch up on the necessities of this world which I have been denying myself. Especially as I attempt to make the pigs in space “dangerous mid-course” correction from frustrated repairmen who can’t earn a living from his previous profession to barely-humorous speculative fiction author.

Note, barely-humorous is in and of itself a joke for both understanding ironic humour, which Americans don’t and for the fact that I’m literally laying myself bare to do this.

It is very hard to even imagine how I am going make it through the summer when my shoes are falling apart and I can’t even afford razors to keep myself clean-shaven for the markets. Especially when the odd Andrew Jackson here and there is spent before it even hits my pocket.

Yes, I know I am responsible for my own debt in the world, chasing my libido across your fine country twice in order to find the road back home to myself was just about as expensive as any other university edumacation in this world.

And so hopefully you will not blame me for anything I say or do to pursue this goal, as besides yourself there is nobody else who currently believes in my goals. Which leaves me no other choice than trying to hit the nail on the head with as much force as it takes to get it through somebody’s thick skull that I need help not for myself.

But because I’m seriously trying to make the world a better place by helping everyone involved get over their ignorance.

Ditto.D

B.S. If you really want to write a successful book I think we should just propose a novel of our correspondence called “Dear Bonnie” as an alienated Hebrew, who has never known that part of his heritage due to his mother’s untimely death, attempts to gain perspective from his adopted auntie.

Shitler’s List

Sat, 26 May 2012 10:58:35 -0400

The professional mental ass-ass-in or shitman or a silent killer of thoughts. They exist in a state of war which is fought by keeping one’s thoughts still in order to remove the disturbances which keep one from accessing their visual memory cortex.

An excellent metaphor for this is Narcissus, who so enamored with their own thoughts drowns in the mindstream of their own consciousness o.k.a. Having your head so far up your ass that it comes out your mouth again.

It is a fundamental error in understanding our own minds which prevents this world from making sense.

A well-known fascist once wrote, “What luck for rulers that men do not think.”

The greatest problem with our world occurs when we do not have the means to express ourselves and so we go to greater and greater extents to make the world fit our ideal.

On a personal level this generally ends up in frustration, for the truly gifted bullshitters this means that entire nations are plunged into war.

If I had a million dollars I would invest in the creation of innovative digital and virtual tools for folks like myself to express themselves.

If I had a billion dollars I would invest in the same thing but on a wider scale, with greater research into education and self-learning.

The professional education of the future will be finding what you need to know, when you need to know it and then possessing the skills to apply it efficiently to the situation at hand.

All the book learning in the world won’t help you if you don’t have a lick of common sense to back it up.

If I had a trillion dollars it would do no different, I would still be working to help the human race find the mechanisms required to laugh at itself so we could get on to the really cool stuff the 21^st century promises. Such as virtually artificial reality.

Why? Because I love my life, I love my world and when in the darkness nobody else can see the light of the brilliant future which waits for us if we choose to built it, I choose to keep the candle lit.

This is hope, coming from one of you, the 99% who are gladly willing to do whatever it takes to have the simple life with those whom they love, spent in peace. And not trying to dominate the human race to feed my petty ego insecurities.

Too bad the rest of you dumb shits are too busy playing in your own feces to appreciate what this life truly has to offer because pretty soon, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon the ignorance of people like you is going to result in the end of everything both horrid and beautiful about this world.

If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem, so please go fuck yourself. You are already done enough to fuck everything else up for those of us who understand what Zen really is.

It is the Eddies of this world who think they know that Zen is only peace who are directly retarding the progress of our species.

Zen, in case you have forgotten is part of the Warrior’s Code. This is why the Taijitu, which the Yanks so garishly call a “yin-yang” contains both black and white. You simply cannot have one without the other, this goes back “The Golden Mean” for the Ancient Geeks (Truth and Beauty), “The Philosophy of the Mean” for Confusesus and “The Middle Way” of the Bud-ists.

It is death which defines life. If we did not die, we could not live.

This is also representative of the dualistic or BROKEN human mindstate that 99.996% of the population exist within. As their ego and super-ego continually dual for supremacy while the ID watches helplessly wishing it could give birth to the non-duality of I’n’I.

This is why the Hagakure states; “The Way of the Samurai is found in death. Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily. Every day when one’s body and mind are at peace, one should meditate upon being ripped apart by arrows, rifles, spears and swords, being carried away by surging waves, being thrown into the midst of a great fire, being struck by lightning, being shaken to death by a great earthquake, falling from thousand-foot cliffs, dying of disease or committing seppuku at the death of one’s master. And every day without fail one should consider himself as dead. This is the substance of the way of the samurai.”

Which are also an allusion to the higher mindstate of DMT release which comes with practiced mediation such as expressed by Chögyam Trungpa in Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior.

Now, you can either continue to play in your own shit and remain ignorant or you can invest in the one person who has a viable solution for the human condition.

Which is it going to be?

Joining the problem is never the solution, if you wish to remain ignorant of the facts, you will never find personal absolution.

Take it from this Neo Zen Repairman, there is a flavor of Zen for everyone. But step one is admitting that the odds of a single person knowing what is actually going on in the cosmos is next to nothing.

It does not matter if you believe a thing is true or not when you act like it is or isn’t it doesn’t matter if it isn’t or is, you are making it real through the expression of your actions as the living embodiment of your ideas, ideals and idols.

The Neo Litany of Serenity Against Fear

Fri, 25 May 2012 22:01:59 -0400

I grant myself the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.

I must not fear living one day at a time; fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

Enjoying one moment at a time I will face my fear.

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace, I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

Taking, this world as it is, not as I would have it where the fear has gone there will be nothing.

Only I will remain.

Trusting that I will make all things right if I surrender to my own will with the courage to change the things I can.

That I may be happy in life I have found the wisdom to know the difference.

Knowledge speaks, wisdom listens, experience acts.

Thanks folks!

Fri, 25 May 2012 21:59:55 -0400

Thanks folks!

Current pet peeve; when I tell people I’m going to be a writer and they respond with a purely a skeptical and sarcastic “good luck”.

Thu, 24 May 2012 21:08:40 -0400

(Best contemplated to “Hush” by Bedouin Soundclash.)

Props and shouts to M.E. for appreciating my use of “speculative fiction” to describe my work.

You know, of course, this means war.

“I smell ink!” – The Rum Diaries

“Thomas Tipp was right: People will read again.” – Vanilla Sky

What’s up, Paradox?

Have you ever wanted to leave a legacy for your family, but...

Wed, 23 May 2012 20:41:55 -0400

Have you ever wanted to leave a legacy for your family, but didn’t know how to tell the tale? Get custom autobiographies from Vanity Flare.me for reasonable rates!

Contact Oliver Agony today! Have Quill, will travel!

Those who have tried to replace my mother over the years have made me glad that I don’t have one.

Wed, 23 May 2012 20:26:32 -0400

Imaginate if you would that the following story is being read in Garrison Keelor’s dulcet tones, except that instead of being about Lake Wobegon, it’s about my hometown; Ghor’s Bay on an Isle called Manitoolin. So any relation to actual events is purely in my image nation and not meant to reflect any reality or actuality.

Have you ever felt like you were a recurring character in other people’s lives?

Aholaloha!

I’m Dylon and I need your help figuring out how to bridge the gap from my failing career as a jack-of-all-trades freelance computer technician, graphic and web-designer, chain jewelry designer and best-selling DIY writer to barely humorous, yet somewhat talented speculative fiction author.

Rather than bore you with the details on why, I would simply like to invite your opinion on the various venues which I have been trying to exercise escape, such as my creative writing blog, my webcomic, my dad’s online art gallery, etc…. in the form of comments, shares and perhaps and even though after 2 years in the t-shirt game having a total net profit of $28.40, perhaps an interest in some of the unique merchandise associated with these projects.

If you are interested in knowing more about the person behind all this, please visit this page. One of my plans for escape is start a business called “Vanity Flare” writing personal biographies for common folk who want to leave a part of themselves for their families, but can’t afford a “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” Mikel and Elizabet duo to untangle or communicate their tales for them.

However, since I don’t have any clients yet, I thought I would biographize myself. Besides, who knows you better than your heart? So why not let her do all the talking?

My fondest memory of my mother is from some time in 1977 or 1978. Understand that she was killed in a head on collision with a truck carrying cement blocks due to black ice on an overpass outside ofMidland,Ontarioin 1980. I was six, going on seven at the time and most certainly a “mommy’s boy”. So my tiny pool of remembrance for her is more precious than any orphan tear trinket Dumbledoor could ever hope to conjure.

Also know that I have spent my entire life since then besieged by those who through their own motivation and at my instigation have tried to fill her unique slippers. So, everything which follows is my own folly as it literally took me 32 years to realize precisely and vividly why one must love themselves first as a pure mater of the only fundamental truth of the lawgick of existence. A fact which helped me find the course to personal enlightenment, shed over 10 stone and find my calling in writing and performing humour.

Which also means, none of it is real, but there are those who would tickle ewe to prove otherwise… So, to take it as any more than humorous is ridiculous and any less than serious; ignorance.

Random facts about Dylon; Like fellow Canuckian Jann Arden, Dylon believes that love is the only soldier left and thanks you for not believing that he is every word that he has written down. However, unlike Jann Arden, Dylon would not die for you because he has learnt that one cannot suffer for another without either becoming a crutch or a scapegoat while at the same time interfering in the freedom of others to find their own solutions. Which is the greatest gift love can offer, even if very few know it while pursing other ideals of love.

If that black ball is not too bitter, understand, I’m an adult and so is my story, so I’m not sorry to say what is to follow is strictly NSFW.

“InVADERs Must Die”

The root of my personal sense of black humour seems to have come partly from this memory; so let’s see if you are Canuckian enough to spot the real irony in my tale. Don’t worry if you can’t though, I’m sure it will come eventually…

My mom, I am told, was a science fiction fanatic, as I will hope to have the opportunity to attest to in future stories. So somehow, which I may never understand given the scope of her life in contrast to the publication, she had apparently read the book version of Star Wars before the movie came out. And as such was privy to information that may not been known by may, such as that there was supposed to be before and after sequels. Which means she was pretty darn excited about finally seeing the movie that day in the late 70’s. Although perhaps she had just been exposed information through the 1970’s version of the “network” which we take so for granted today. Back then it was B&W TV (well, for the island), magazines, newspapers and gossip.

For now though, I vividly remember us in the Laundromat which used to be just north of the Community Hall on the main street, not to be confused with “main street”, which is actually just a side street, mind you.

The hall served as town’s makeshift theatre until sometime around Superman the Third or Return of the Jedi. It sits between what is now the coffee shop, but which used to be the butcher’s and a small corner store which sold yarn and knitting patterns when I was young Just north of the corner store is the building which was the Laundromat at the time and that later became a hardware store and now is now a promotional items shop with some classic silkscreened island tees that go back further than some remember.

Me either, as I can’t seem to recall the year, but 3 of the dryers which lined the south wall of the Laundromat in the late 70’s are still partially in operation at the current Laundromat. Itself now situated between the jewelry store that’s attached to the closet thing to an old fashion cloth and garment shop one is likely to find in this neck of the woods and the office of our home town paper. Which comes complete with a single overworked reporter to cover the entire west end of the island in about 8 to 12 pages of weekly news, births, deaths, jobs, sales and most importantly; social dinners.

The unique pallor of these dryers is cyan power blue attributable to an esthetic from an era which I can only imagine as being remnant of a very distant time indeed. And their continued use and state of function placing the antiquated nature of my backwoods home hopefully into proper contextual perspective.

In all honesty, I don’t remember much of the movie that night, except sneaking sips of Orange Crush from a glass bottle obfuscated under her embroidered jean jacket. Lightsaber duels and oh, the end with the classic Death Star big badda boom and Vader left spinning spuriously in space.

In my remembrance the soda was delicious in a way that things just aren’t anymore. Having been purchased from the vending machine across from the antiquate dryers before the show for what I think was a quarter, perhaps more.

It was one of those old model vending machines that you would expect to see in Pleasantville. With a thin-windowed vertical refrigerator door on the front and which relied on the honesty of patrons not to purloin an extra bottle (or two) when opened to retrieve one’s tasty beverage. On one side was a metal plate for popping off the bottlecaps that always reminds me of what would have been a heck of a loot score in a post-apocalyptic Fallout currency exchange scenario.

The open soda had to be snuck into the theatre of course. Apparently the ubiquitous they certainly didn’t approve of enjoying refreshments during the show or something. I’m not sure, all I remember is that it tasted the way only a drink out of an ice cold bottle can, with perhaps a little extra spice in the whole illicit smuggling experience.*

Anyhow, it was after the movie that I recall my personal observation, listening to “Wah-Wah-Wah” Peanuts babble from the elders who were now socializing after the show. I think maybe at the big Victorian, up where the main street meets the highway which actually winds in on 4 different streets from the main highway 2 klicks outside of town by the local constabulary.

Amongst the babble I managed to overhead that they were all going to see the movie again the next night and it was going to be just the adults! No doubt so they could have a better chance to see the show without kids sucking on glass nipples under their embroidered jackets.

But, always being somewhat of a quiet sort, all I could think to myself was “I wish I could go too…” But not for the selfish reasons one might think. It was because “…maybe Vader will win next time!” Not realizing of course that movies didn’t have different endings on different nights. Well, unless you’re the sort that likes to write their own tales or that Clue movie from the 80’s.

Since then, I’ve always cheered for the underdog, whether they get the princess or the emperor’s ass end of the stick. All heroes need a villain and vice versa.

Over the years, I’m sure I watched an old VCR- taped version of the broadcast premiere of Star Wars from the 80’s a hundred times. Then later, the VHS trilogy which I now understand is the only way to see the original version of the films which George apparently has been working very hard to bury, another hundred times.

Well, ok maybe not that many times for the trilogy, but I did wear out the original tape, complete with commercials and cameo quotes from Gramin’s Chinese Theatre.

However many times it was, it was enough so that when the re-release came out to generate cash buzz for the coming prequels and I drove over to Sudscity in our old Tunderbird to see it by myself I was; Fairly puzzled by the new version of the Greedo scene. Which kind of looked like somebody had taken the original Zapruder film and CG’d in a puff of blaster fire from the grassy knoll for specious reasons. Curious about how Jabba had put on so much weight in such a short time and utterly jarred by the horrendous re-editing of death star climax.

Which, of all the scenes in A New Hope is most vividly burnt into my memory. Having surely played it out thousands of times at the old arcade that was later and sadly, a restaurant supply company on the main north-south drag by the old flour silos in Suds. It will always be the best arcade on earth to me. With 5 tokens for a dollar and the widest selection of arcade machines available at the time. Well, at least that I knew of. Having dragged my dad over hell’s half acre looking for unique video game experiences in the 80’s.

Then later as “the trench scene” was even further burning into memory as I played the X-Wing and Tie-fighter PC games until I’d finished every secondary mission possible.

If anything, shame on George Lucas for killing all the truly brilliant aspects of Lucas Arts. Seriously, wasn’t Fate of Atlantis about a million times more interesting as a mcguffin than what looked liked a plastic-wrapped faux crystal skull? Not to mention all the lost heroes of SCUMM. Like Zach McCrackin, Bernard Bernoulli, Guybrush Threepwood and the Fullthrottle link to Luke Skywalker that includes a Ben, but doesn’t include any caffeine infused beverages.

And why was there never a Star Wars universe Privateer style game? Seriously, anybody who knows the Star Wars to Wing Commander connection for more than an acting relation must have come to this conclusion. Especially those of us who have realized that sometimes in order to save one’s bacon, you really are justified in shooting first. Especially if you are forced to drop your spice load for a Confed, errr, Imperial blockade.

If I could create a gravestone for the Old Lucas Arts it would read; “ Here rots some of the greatest games ever so you can play yet another animated Lego-Clone license? BTW, when did Lego stop being about building your ~own~ unique toys?”

However, more to the point, has this chunk of old school geek biography interested you enough to warrant a sequel?

My mom was killed late in 1980, which means that the Star Wars element of this story picks up in 1980 with the pinnacle of the Stars Wars Saga; The Empire Strikes Back. And also continues through my thoughts on seeing Return of the Jedi in 1983, one of the last movies to play in our theatre as I remember without her.

Plus observations on the prequels, as I tried to mold a replacement for love over a dreadful set of movies. And also my later, greater realization about the George Lucas’s reverse triumph in the prequels by choosing not to give us a visualization of Timothy Zahn’s post Dark Empire Star Wars world. Especially in the screen characterization of Grand Admiral Thrawn, a strategist who makes Palpatine’s Trade Federation antics look like Pablum and is only undone in by a lack of information. Kind of like the exact problem our species; earth is facing cumulatively at this very moment by succumbing to his own ego instead of learning to let go.

So, now it’s up to you, I require some kind of feedback to justify writing the next part and am looking forward to comments about what you’d like to hear about next?

More Geek? More Entrepreneur? More Personal? Longer? Shorter?

I’m willing to give my audience anything, you just gotta throw me a bone so I know how to direct the growin’!

*I’ve heard that my Eastern relatives used to run treasures during the second great war in their secret ninja compartments… More tales of weirdness coming soon! (with your interest, of course!)

B.S. Please consider donating to my VenuShowinGame.com, sooner or later I’m actually going to piss off George Lucas and I just know he’s going to send his corporate ninjas after me! So I could really use those kung-fu lessons!

It Is Said That Every Great Sword Has a Soul

Wed, 23 May 2012 19:09:37 -0400

(Best contemplated to “Lemming” by Melys”)

“Back then I was flying the Tunderbird. It was a landyacht and a somewhat cantankerous mount for the icy winding path into Rockvale.

My mission, ostensibly a delivery for the outgoods import company at which I was employed as a bit of this and a bit of that. In actuality it had been arranged by a local agent within customs.

I was meeting a collector of exclusive artifacts. Swords from a far away world. And what he showed me changed my life.”

“Once when I worked at the local health food store I had the opportunity to meet an extraordinary man who collected Japanese swords. A friend arranged the introduction and I spent the afternoon learning more about these elegant weapons than I thought possible.

This collector allowed me to hold one of his most impressive pieces. He said on a collectors scale of 1 to 100 it was considered flawless, worth more than $30k

Then he told me to carefully hold the blade up, so I could see the sunlight play across the suface of the blade. He told me not to drop it because it would probably cut off the corner of his desk.

It didn’t have a proper grip, it had just returned from 2 years over seas being professionally restored. He tapped fine pumice on the blade anyhow, just to make sure it was extra shiny.

And as I held it up, carefully gripping the raw tang I saw the most extraordinary thing, not only flat crystalline structures but the living flames of the blacksmith who had forged the blade something like 6 or 700 years ago.

It was the soul of the sword, the artists hand which laid fine clay, the artisans final secret. Well, except for stealing their steel technology fromKoreaI was told, which was the “magic line” between where the blade was tempered for a keen high-carbon slicing edge backed by flexible, lower carbon backbone.

He then showed me a piece of bamboo about 2 inches across which had one flush cut end and one diagonal cut. He explained it was from a demonstrating and that if I had ever crawled through the jungles that I would know that the only thing harder to cut through than green bamboo was dried bamboo.

It had been part of a demonstration, an approximation of a human spine, which had been severed not by the sword he was showing me, but by one almost identical.

As I looked at the end of the bamboo it looked as if it had not been cut so much as the molecules had be seperated from each other, almost polished where it had been sliced.

He also told me that blades were tested for sharpness by being set vertically with the blade in a gentle stream, with the cutting edge against the flow. So that when a lotus petal is dropped into the stream it will be cut by the force of the flowing water alone. A fact seemingly confirmed by Muramasa: the Demon Blade for the Wii, in which the blacksmith’s ghost clearly states that the essense of a blade is it’s sharpness.

The man wielding the sword for the demonstration had cut once horizontally and the audience who were watching thought he missed the vertical bamboo bundle until his second blow, diagonal and bellow the first caused both pieces to fall.

I had never seen anything like it, it was the most beautiful piece of artistry in metal I had ever seen.

Learn how to forge your own D.I.Y. Saber by folding your thoughts and cut through the river of time along the with the bullshit of this world.

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First step? Authors can never fall for their own daze. They must in all ways and always be prepared to suspend their own disbelief at any moment by knowing how to set their priorities straight. This reality is as real as we make it.

There is no fate, no hate, no date and no weight but those which we make.

And this is what the soul of the sword told me about Hephaestus and Aphrodite, the original beauty of Vulcan’s forge…

Coming sooner rather than later if you donate to my VenuShowinGame.com.

Today my story was dismissed as unbelievable…

Wed, 23 May 2012 18:50:49 -0400

…and I guess if I were to look it from the outside may be tempted to feel the same way. Except, I’m not on the outside, I’m on the inside, looking out, screaming at the top of my lungs to cold world which does everything to invalidate, kind of like Gattaca but more transparent and alienating somehow.

Expatiating was the word of the day on the calendar beside the computer I was repairing this afternoon. The same computer which inspired the 1000 first pages project has been returned from the manufacturer. Except that callously they simple reinstalled Windblows 7 instead of minding the custom install of XP which the customers had paid for.

If found this word highly ironic because it means both long-winded in explanation, such as the letter I sent to Eddie earlier today. And also one who wanders around, which is what I would like to be doing more than anything else in the world. Held back only by my honesty and my commitment to family to find a solution for my financial problems before going walkabout to properly fill my mental swag with a priori life experience.

Sometimes I dream that it would be possible to be such a nefarious intellectual that folks would travel to my island just in order to see me and discuss philosophy dialectically. I call this a backasswards walkabout, but it would require a key ingredient which I have yet been unable to net; an audience.

But alas, as I wait over 3 hours for 96 patches from Microsoft to install my mind drifts back to 1996. The Internet was new to the world and I was new to freelance repairs, having started in my spare time just before Windblows 95 came onto the market and I ended up working for a guy on the other side of the island. Before that I worked in the health food store which I now, ironically live above.

My boss was quite a cool chap with a million stories, even if he did argue with his wife a lot, which seemed odd to me at 23 and them in their 60’s. I mean, isn’t there a point where people finally grow up and settle their communication issues without arguing?

Anyhow, he was another one of those friends shared their sci-fi tales of lunch at what may have been the worst restaurant in the universe. Many of these stories still roll around as inspiration in my head. Such as a distant future where the remnants of our scorched Earth are being examined by alien archeologist, attempting to recreate our culture from excavating the remains of an ancient restaurant. Amongst many of their completely unfounded assumptions is that forks must be some kind of religious artifact due simply to their proliferation and apparent veneration.

Today I wish I knew if he was still around, because I’d like to talk to him about a couple of things. Such is if he had ever heard of a runcible spoon before and the potential connection to the oddly named Bohemian ear spoon that I always think of when I listen to Mae Moore singing about going places inside her head.

And the other thing is that he was right. If I could travel back to 96, which is when my libido first flared up after having met love on the Internet for the first time, I would do everything in my power to enforce his advice at the time “Boy, it just ain’t worth it”. Going of your way to be with women that is and he had a convincing argument.

Apparently his first wife, met overseas, looked just like Rita Hayworth, who completely ranks at the top of my personal film noire hottie list, so I could definitely identify with the attraction. Especially with the connection to my old friend Andy Dufresne chipping away at the walls of his personal prison.

My boss had been an airman inGermanyand she was local. They married, had a daughter, and then one day she just up and leaves, absconding with their daughter, whom he didn’t get to meet again until over 20 years after the fact.

Looking back at the last 15 years, as I travelled to Hell and back more than once in search of satisfaction for my own libido, I’ve come to exactly the same conclusion, it just ain’t worth it.

Today, when I look around me, I admire the beauty of this world for all it is worth. If I happen to spy someone whom is attractive to me, I can imagine exactly as much physical passion as it takes to get to the first time I have to listen to the person in question bitch, moan, complain, cry or whatever and I know that I’m just as well off with the family I have.

I guess it’s just one of those things which is bound to mystify me to the end of time. Why we bother chasing our own tales like delusional monkeys around the mulberry bush instead of just listening to good advice when we get it?

Not that I regret a single drop of my life. It has always been my choice to put myself where I was, doing the things I was doing and so I am therefore proud of everything which makes me, me. Just that still trying to deal with the wreckage of what it took to bring me this far has just become too pedantic.

Why would I choose to fight with computers, apparently the most logical creations, but each with their own distinct sets of quirks?

Why would I choose to create chainmail when all I ever do is struggle against trying to sell something which I don’t even really believe in. I mean, truly, if you want to be unique why would buy the same adornment as everyone else?

Especially when I have a new passion to pursuit?

Well, because this doesn’t pay the bills, nobody cares, enlightenment? Empowerment? Freedom? Zen? Excalibur? The one ring? A solution to P=NP? The golden fleece? Your very own Lightsaber? Pah! We’ve seen all that before!

So tell me then, what can I show you that would be of interest? Give me a metaphor to crack, give me anything, please, throw this dog a bone!?

I have something of value and every time I get knocked down it’s just more impetuous to get back up and fight another round.

It was then that the package which changed every arrived. Who was it from? What did it contain? What will happen next?

Find out sooner rather than later if you donate today!

Are you not even curious about your own lack of curiosity?

Wed, 23 May 2012 14:57:12 -0400

Shouldn’t you be curious about something called “D.I.Y. Saber” that offers to provide you a everything which is required to build a functional Lightsaber?

What proof do you need?

Can we see yours, you perhaps may be induced to ask

To which I would reply “no”

To which one may retort, “how so can we believe it to be, when we cannot see it so?”

To which, I say this; “Tis unvisible to ye because of colours which you do not perceive, of which there are 3 and one which you will never see, for you believe it not to be. But trust that one should not test my ability to make their head pop off. There are none so blind as those who do not see for they believe themselves free and so will never be.” Master Faudax played by Foxy Lady Miss Triple Sexy Xanadu from The Phlubberized(gm) Animorphic BioCryptiDroids.

Coming sooner or later if anyone actually gave a fuck.

Your eyes can deceive you, don’t trust them.

Why don’t you care?

The Saga Continues!

Wed, 23 May 2012 13:09:52 -0400

> It sounds like a very deep work of mystical philosophy with a complex plot line. > Offhand, I am trying to envision a disgruntled Zen repairman. It’s hard. I> associate Zen with tranquility not disgruntlement. So there is an immediate >problem concerning the believability of the character. — E.
>

LOL! Thank you for your honesty!

A disgruntled repairman searching for his Zen then.

This is actually a major issue with our world as there are literally millions of enlightened people who simply unaware of how to empower their own lives.

In telling the story of how I discovered how to empower my own life, I am attempting to illustrate how others how others can unlock their own personal Zen.

Zen is actually a poor word to describe the secular mind-state of virtually artificial reality which I am talking about. A better example is perhaps Shambhala: Sacred Path of the Warrior by Chogyam Trungpa which illustrates in a secular manner how a trained Zen monk accesses this higher state of being.

Well, it turns out that there as many ways to access this higher state as there are people. In BDSM culture extremes of pain are used to induce “sub-space”, for musical performers this can be a natural high akin to “when I’m playing, she comes to me with 1000 smiles” and quite frankly it is THE solution for the human condition.

Because it is also the source of all creativity, all inspiration. The ancient Greeks called it Ataraxia, in “The Apophenion” by Peter J. Carroll it is equated with the goddess “Apophenia”, the Norse called it “Bifrost The Rainbow Bridge”, Jim Henson called it “The Rainbow Connection”, in classic texts it is referred to as “The Promised Land”, also “somewhere over the rainbow in Oz” or the happy thoughts and pixie dust that take one to “Neverland”, aka The Pillars of Creation, the Axis Mundi, the Fountain of Youth, Narnia, what George Lucas called a “light saber”, etc…

All of which are metaphors for a natural mind-state which is related to the release of the natural hallucinogen from the pineal gland known as DMT. Which is the greatest and most mundane secret of the human race.

Surely there must be some curiosity to drive interest in the story of a repairmen, who, after accidentally discovering his personal access to this mystery is then constantly derailed by a world which is ironically on the edge of obliterating itself believing that this natural function of their own body is something greater than themselves?

Ditto.D

Bullshit!

Wed, 23 May 2012 12:52:41 -0400

How do we know that this is not ______ attempting to provoke civil unrest?

How do we know that _____ is not spying on our IPs?

How d o we know that _____ is not waiting to arrest us for speaking our minds after we have been led into a trap?

Reductio ad Communicado

Everything is reducible to communication, the reasons that we live, the reasons that we die as the living embodiment of our thoughts.

If reading words like this moves you to action then you have been infected with the most deadly virus known to all civilization; Information.

Everywhere in this world people live, die, fight, bleed, cry and much, much worse for the justification, validation and/or rationalization of their ideas, ideals and idols without ever considering both the message and the medium of their information.

Learn to cut the crap only with D.I.Y. Saber and help fund research into “Humour: The Anti-thesis of War” with VenuShowinGame.com

A response, yet the world still does not understand what I am trying to communicate.

Wed, 23 May 2012 12:48:00 -0400

Highly ironic given that this is the exact point which I am trying to get across. What force interferes with my words? Do I make some mistake or misstep with how I present myself?

I try to imagine how the world sees the other side of my words and imagine they are perhaps like a blur or the shadow of heat crinkling and distorting the message.

333 posts and less than 10 shares! Today I am officially pathetic! Yes! This shall only make my victory all that much more glorious! ROFLMEOW.me

An actual reply!

Wed, 23 May 2012 12:39:00 -0400

>Hi Dylon,

>Thank you for your query. I read it over several times and while I sense that you >are communicating about a book of fiction, it is not clear to me what you are >proposing.

>Best!

>Eddie

Hey Eddie,

Thanks for getting back to me!

What I am proposing is the story of me, the disgruntled Zen repairman, trying to find a market for my fiction against the impossible odds of anyone actually caring to build a better tomorrow.

The hook is the originality of the story coupled with a language which speaks to generations X, Y & Z through familiar modern mythology and metaphor.

For example have you seen the movie Sucker Punch? Are you aware that the circumstances of this motion picture literally recreate the potential of the human mind state to “jump” to into augmented reality scenarios sans the need for implausible dues ex machine explanations?

The humour comes from both the incredibly irony of the human condition as explained through Bacon. Which makes a more convincing argument for human existence than the rest of the nonsense we tend to cling to in order to make ourselves feel comfortable in the deep dark night.

Regards,

Ditto.D

Now Accepting Offers... (pardon my verbosity, some things are exceedingly difficult to say simply)

Wed, 23 May 2012 11:55:03 -0400

Dear Eddie,

Pardon the delay in writing to you, my mind runs so fast these days that it is often hard to slow down. I am hoping that this does not leave you with the impression that I am inclined to treat deadlines as would Douglas Adams who once said something like “I love deadlines! I especially love the sound they make as they go whizzing by.” As I have never missed a deadline in my decade long career as a D.I.Y. author and is in fact simply indicative of the career which I’ve come to loath.

Over the past 2 years I have developed a remedy for the human condition which I accidentally stumbled upon during my work as a freelance computer technician, graphic/web designer, part-time author and jewelry designer. It revolves an understanding of Bacon as the primary growth function of the human fictation (fictional dictation) system and a fundamental security flaw which exists within that system.

In short, I have discovered practical enlightenment and personal empowerment for the neomodern world in a manner which finally brings meaning to our otherwise baffling species. And perhaps hope to millions who suffer from mislabeled conditions such as autism, Asperger’s, ocd, adhd, add, schizophrenia which are in fact all indicative of a condition of accelerated attention advantage and the growth of secondary self-awareness in the human species.

Currently I am pursuing on several personal ventures based on the concept of “The Golden Meme” an idea so infectious that it would spread as an informational pandemic. The point being to immunize the human race with a functional version of the philosophical “Golden Mean” in order to help them learn how to stop swallowing their own tales.

The alarming proliferation of which places the consensual species of a united earth in peril due to our pure ignorance of our own operation and function. The totality of these species, both flora and fauna, which we need like the lungs with which we breath, the land from which we eat and the waters which we all drink from. That in turn quite frankly need us about as much as yet another hole in the ozone layer.

The way I see it, if I do not bring this fundamental security flaw in the human operating system to the attention of the world, some other speculative fiction author with far less honest intentions than my own is going to use it to captivate the world like the 21st century version of Orson Welles. With far more malicious and deadly potentially.

Over the past 2 years I have hand written 64 journals of 200 pages. Each with the assorted tales of my journey from “front line” repairman in the information war to perhaps the most grown-up and rational human on the planet when I say that;

It’s all bullshit.

We make it all up as we go along.

Only fiction makes sense .

We are all our own worst enemy, especially when we see diversity with enmity.

There is quite literally no fate, no hate, no date and no weight but those which we make.

And just about the most idiotic thing in the universe is for a bunch of dumb, naked, self-domesticated, barely-sapient hominid descents who as the living embodiment of their ideas, ideals and idols are ignorant enough to believe that they could ever hope to imagine what is actually going on in this omniverse. Especially when it’s clear that it is the mysteries of this universe which give it interest and are certainly not worth annihilating ourselves over.

Before Decemeber 21, 2012 I am doing my best to spread these, along with other messages of peace;

“If it’s all made up, why can’t we just agree to disagree and call it a day?”

“Trust me, the artist who was carving the Mayan calendar simple ran out of rock.” - Jack Whyte

What I’m willing to place on your desk (inbox) as of February 13th, 2013 (contingent of our species surviving complete information apocalypse due to 2012 hysteria) is the manuscript of my journey and attempt to re-invent the human species via the character of Oliver Agony.

As a 3-time best selling author I am asking 15% for hardcover and soft cover royalties. With all other merchandise rights, movie, tv, etc… being retained by myself.

What I am seeking in return is an advance as soon as possible. I require financing for the most game changing theory in the history of humanity; “Reductio Ad Communicado” and the sooner I can get to work, the more interesting the story you receive will be.

However, please realize that you are also now part of the tale, whether you respond or not. This letter has already been included on my blog, logged for history. Which means that anybody in the world is also free to make an offer for the story of Oliver Agony.

I thank you for your consideration,

Ditto.D

B.S. If you have felt any emotion in regard to the proceeding then understand that this is the direct danger of not considering both the content and context of everything which you read. Which in this case is a barely humorous, yet somewhat talented speculative fiction author looking for his break. Or at the very least a cheer for the underdog fighting against impossible odds epic journey fan base. I mean really, how could one person actually change the world? Succeed or fail at least it’s an original story for a day and age when most people in this world seem to have abandoned any sort of rationality.

Which is the direct danger of a barrel full of see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, monkey see, monkey do simian mirror neuron infested hominid descendants who are too busy hacking away on infinite keyboards attempting to recreated the works of Shakespeare or was that Bacon? Instead of going out and learning how to take their place on the stage of the world.

Start your journey and learn to cut the crap with “D.I.Y. Saber”!

In the vein of Robert Anton Wilson ”“belief is the death of intelligence”
and Timothy Leary “The universe is an intelligence test” learn the secrets of Promethean 8-circuit self-creation and the secret of secondary self-awareness from the perhaps the smartest simian alive!

“You owe yourself the favour of pulling your head out of your ass once before the shit hits the fan and if for no other reason than to kiss it goodbye before the end.

The last year, the last month, the last day, the last hour, the last minute, the last second, heck, even the last moment of your life is like any other, only shorter. Just ask Tony the Soprano; the one with the bullet in his brain is always the last to know.

We have between then and now to make a difference by letting go of yesterday to build a better tomorrow.

But you know what I always say, when life hands you nothing but bullshit, you might as well make ‘Lemon-Aid’. Sure, it may smell a little ‘funny’, taste a little ‘off’, but you add enough sugar to anything and somebody is bound to pay you for it!”

It was when I wrote this last statement to my former editor and she responded by telling me that it was the most offensive thing which she had ever read that I realized two things;

One, people take themselves way too damn seriously. In fact, people taking themselves way too damn seriously is probably the most destructive component of the ignorance which threatens the continuance of the human species.

And two, if I could evoke that kind of reaction from a simple misunderstand, I had a helluva career ahead of me as a comedian!

It was only later that I discovered the critical importance of the COmmunication of the MEDIAN. Especially in regard to the awaking of the collective village which our species has been experiencing at an exponentially accelerating rate. Something which I equate directly with the potential of “singularity” and a growth from the dawn of self-awareness directly along the curve of Moore’s Law to the information technology of today.

It was Marshall McLuhan (“I don’t necessarily agree with everything that I say”)
who first recognized the potential of the global village when he said “the medium is the message”, a statement which still confuses many unless it’s in the light of mirror neurons and how we really do learn directly from observation.

This is why, for example, one cannot preach peace and yet teach fear without the two becoming inexorably intertwined as terror.

And why defining “terror” is as simple as thinking of an ACK-47. Imagine now that this firearm is loaded, has no safety and that the opening of barrel is placed firmly against your chest, about where your racing heart is as you kneel with your hands behind your head wondering if you are about to meet your maker. This is terror.

Now, imagine the same, except you have the stock answer “ya butt” placed against the same spot on your chest. This is the infliction or mechanism of terror, otherwise known as terrorism.

Lastly, just for those who are keeping score, the one with his finger on the trigger, any trigger of destruction (mass or otherwise), is the clearly and in all ways the terrorist.

Also, a patriot BTW, is one who takes care of themselves for the sake of country. Only a bigot, idiot, politic or corporate looks at the care of their county for their own benefit.

This is also why the lesson of John Boorman’s “Excalibur” is that the king and land are one. We are naturally wired to follow the example of those who we place into the position of authority. However this connection eventually breaks down as authority is inevitably corrupted by it’s own power. A situation which is quickly accelerating world-wide as the “let them eat cake attitude” of our leadership non-gratia directly threatens to throw our world into a second and potentially more devastating dark age.

Imagine if you would a world 8000 years from now, as yet other societies as removed as we are now from the first agrarians struggle to cope with these key issues for all species. Either we love and respect ourselves or we continue to suffer needlessly at our own hand. This is undoubtedly why Dante Alighieri dubbed it “The Divine Comedy” due to the pure irony of the “human condition”.

In this potential future rumours abound from a fallen world, peoples who somehow abused their power and fell from grace as the ultimate cost of their hubris. Kind of like how we view stories of what may or may not have been an ancient deluge and stories of Atlantis. An advanced civilization from the mists of history which became it’s own nemesis.

This difference is, of course, that none of what we have now is left. There is nobody left who can understand what may or may not remain of our societies. All our works of art, beauty, music, technology, what have you, lost to our own ignorance.

The fact is that nothing new is learnt from history. The winners write the tales and those who do not learn the lessons are doomed to repeat them. This is why the meek inherit nought but ash and dust blowing on the wind of change.

Isn’t it about time to write a new story for our species?

The fact is that if we are not fighting for the next thousand thousand generations of our world as a whole we might as well be masturbating in the wind. There are more serious threats to our world in the form of near earth orbit objects, solar flares, super volcanoes and our own out-of-control libidos than any idiot with his finger on the nuclear button.

Why are we not fighting to preserve ourselves? If we truly loved the prophets of the past, would we not forgo the profits of the present in order to keep those legacies alive? It doesn’t seem likely that any great hero from the collective mythologies of our species would be pleased with the thought that everything they fought for is currently balanced on the razor’s edge of ignorance between complete annihilation and the natural evolution of our species.

Genius does the most with the least, ignoramus accomplishes the least with the most.

So why do we make idolatries of those who need the most to say the least?

“Modern art is a disaster area. Never in the field of human history has so much been used by so many to say so little.” ― Banksy

Assorted samples from “The Art of Communication”, my auto-didactic biography.

Hi, my name is Dylon and medical science has no explanation for my feet. And while such a statement may seem humorous, it belies one of the greatest issues with the human species; ignorant belief of invalidating the obvious in favour of the ludicrous.

This is the story of how I tried to change the human species by teaching them about the depths of their ignorance one dumb primate at a time.

I hope you find it as amusing as I have.

They say all legendary epic odysseys begin where they end and this one is no different.

You have to trust me about something, if you ever have a chance to choose a super-power, choose “Bacon”.

Don’t go “ummmm, Bacon?” because then you might end up as the fantastically flaccid Indecisive Man.

And don’t say “I choose Bacon!” because then you might end up as the amazingly self-conceded I-Girl.

Any source of information considered complete is obsolete.

Belief is dead, long reign perspective.

Trust only those who see truth, never those who claim to have found it.

If you cannot trust, you cannot be trusted.

Love many, trust few, and always paddle your own Chi-Cheemaun

My initial interest in the fundamental security of emerging self-aware data structures began with Frank Herbert and Dune. In which we are introduced to the “Bene Gesserit”, a race of scary-ass political power brokers who go as far as seeding primitive cultures with messianic prophesy in order to seize control of the populace tens of thousands of years removed from the original meddling and I realized that this was actually a more conceivable explanation of our world’s current idiotic thought on the great mysteries of the universe.

Especially as compared to the amount of messianic/martyr themes which are continually recurring within the mechanisms of our modern mythology such as TV and movies. A fact that leaves me with the definitely impression that the various “powers that be” or “they” as I like to call them are literally attempting to provoke an informational “second coming”. A fact which I am only able to reconcile by the amount of dejamnesia sequelitis which has infected the collective mythology of our species.

Why are we all waiting on the edges of our seats for a white knight to come and rescue us when it clearly is, has always been and will always be only ourselves who are capable of saving ourselves? Well, as long as we care to take care of ourselves and the limited resources of our world that is.

Sometimes I feel like the biggest jerk in the cosmos for having to break to everybody, I’m real sorry boys and girls, but there’s no such thing as Santa, the Easter bunny, fairies, angels, extra-terrestrials or anything else in terms of a physical manifestation.

There is however the incredible capacity of the human imagination to create an interactive virtual space with living characters inside our head that allows us to interact with our person metaphors dressed up in whatever flavour of metaphorical second skin turns our crank. And in order to access this amazing thing all we have to admit that we’re all right for precisely the wrong reason.

Ask yourself, is it better to do the right thing for the wrong reason or the wrong thing for the right reason?

I don’t believe that many who call themselves Jedi are even aware of the fact that an author, George Lucas, cobbled together this now faith-based concept from a mixture of near and far eastern philosophy and a healthy does of western martyr/messiah complex. D.I.Y. Saber is the story of precisely how and why one must create their own reason for being in order to prevent external sway from the expectations of others interfering with their life.

The meaning of life is to live, love and laugh.

Success is having what you want while denying no other what they want.

Learn how to have the best of both worlds only with D.I.Y. Saber (Spring 2012)! And then learn how to have your cake and eat it too with the continuing saga of Oliver Agony in Bacon and the Zen of Art (Summer 2012).

B.B.S. I hope this qualifies as a sample chapter and base marketing plan. Please do not hesitate to contact me if there is anything else I can explain!

Also coming soon brilliance is contagious with Instant Genius! What is the one secret that can make any person smarter than 99.996% of the population?

The truly amazing thing today is how easy it is to use words which people have (apparently) never encountered.

Sun, 20 May 2012 13:06:00 -0400

(Best contemplated to “St. Andrews” by Bedouin Soundclash)

It reminds me of the old joke about the two kids, the first says “Hey, you’ll never guess what! I found a condom on the verandah yesterday!”

The second kid replies “What’s a verandah?”

Or the infamous D&D Gazebo encounter. What happens? Nothing, it’s a gazebo!

And we’re not just talking regional colloquialisms like sitting on a chesterfield here, we’re talking about directly about reading comprehension. Sure, the majority of the populace is no longer illiterate.

But that doesn’t mean that they capable of actually understanding anything they are reading and that’s a fundamental issue of communication.

Reductio ad Communicado

It all comes down to communication and you know what they say, what begins with communication will surely end with communication or the lack there of.

What qualifies one to be a beauty expert? John Keats said;...

Sun, 20 May 2012 11:37:00 -0400

What qualifies one to be a beauty expert?

John Keats said; “”Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

But in the neomodern world beauty is in the eye of the beholder and only skin deep at that, which means that truth can only be what we make of it.

Oh, I get it now! “Beauty expert” is just a euphemism for “yet another actor giving us health advice”. Gee, thanks clarifying your position with eweTube, Polly!

To me, a beauty expert is an artist who fights tooth and nail to bring the natural wonder of existence to a bunch of dumb, naked, self-domesticated, barely-sapient hominid descendants who wouldn’t know truth or beauty if it came up and kicked them in the arse with a frozen mukluk.

Who are we to judge anything by it’s exterior visage?