Greatest Love Story
I saw the greatest love story already. It was the bomb dot com.
Actually it was the GreatestLoveStoryMovie.Com
Tag line for the Trailer:
Sometimes the greatest love story
Happens every day.
Then character says:
"But how can that possibly happen every day?"
Two kids fall in love, move away, go to school, get lost, come back and find eachother again.
Sounds simple, right?
(Argument)
(Acorns tossed as little kids)
Note From Writer (Ian Applegate (or yoda).):
I have only seen the trailer, and the opening and closing scenes of this.
The rest has yet to be written completely.
Opening Scene
It's late. Sis is asleep. Everyone in the whole house is completely asleep. Even the dog is asleep.
I'm having a dream. I'm playing football in a stadium, it's dark and foggy.
Somebody snaps me the ball. I shout out the call.
There are only 12 of us on the field in an empty stadium.
All my receivers (2) are running their patterns. I can see their patterns in my mind.
And then I see them as kids, playing Xbox in my room together when we were younger.
We're playing a football game, and it's identical to the game in my dream.
The two screens run in tangent with one another, as I select a button, the pass is snapped
There is a flash of light.
It's the light from my blinking alarm clock.
I stand up, in my blue PJ's. It's summertime and the windows are open.
Haven't been to school in weeks. It's sophomore year, and I feel like my big dream will never come true.
My biggest dream, and I know it sounds lame, is to meet the right girl.
And not just meet her, but hit it off with her right off the bat.
With a great conversation, a serious look, maybe our friends could talk about it for a few days before we finally agree to meet up.
But that's not what happened at all.
I was standing by my locker, and I saw this girl walk by, and she gave me a nice look.
So I quickly put away my books and just started following her.
I didn't know where I was going, or where she was headed, but I just thought it was a harmless excuse to be late for class. I got lost.
She ends up down the other end of the same hall, at her locker. She stopped, opened the door, and then I startled her.
"What are you doing?" she asks, startled. Heck, it startled me. She caught me off guard. I guess I didn't even realize what I was doing.
So I said, "You gave me this look, over there."
"What look?"
"What do you mean 'what look'?"
"Whatever! I looked at you and smiled. That doesn't give you permission to follow me down the halls."
Just then an older gentleman wearing some oldschool vest, wearing glasses, maybe having big long dreadlocks, steps out of a classroom. "Do you have permission to be in the halls?"
In the course of that time, the two of them completely didn't notice that two bells had rung, and they were standing in the hallway by themselves.
That was the first time they met.
I'm not going to be able to withstand 3 years of this forsaken place, if a girl can give you a look like that, and get away with it, as if it doesn't mean something.
I'm not going to spend my time chasing girls like that, either. If it was meant to be, it was meant to be. And that's just how it is," he thinks in class.
They see eachother at a party, but avoid one another. It's odd, as a movie, because people might not realize this but we know eachother.
We've known eachother for years. Christ, this town only has 400 people in it. You meet the woman that serves you coffee every Sunday Morning in kindergarten.
You realize that's who she'll be in the fourth grade when you find out that her mom is the woman who fills up your mom's cup of coffee after church when you go out for brunch every Sunday.
Luckily that's Suzy Plattus, she's not the girl we're talking about here. The girl we're talking about is a tease. She's a flirt. And she's been like that since the second grade. That's the first time that I ever slowed down enough in recess to notice that she was constantly staring at me. So I start throwing acorns at her, but that doesn't work. It actually kind of seemed to piss her off a little.
But she never threw one back, and that's probably a good thing because I would have started to look for bigger acorns. Anyway I was just trying to get her attention but I didn't know any better. I wouldn't throw acorns at my mom, for example, but Ani's a different story because she can't ground me. Besides, I wanted her to notice and be aware of my superhuman aiming powers.
Now we're 16. We've never dated. We barely even speak yet we know immense levels of detail about eachother. For example, she knows that I got all my comic books stolen from me by my best friend in 7th grade and that's why we never speak to eachother, even though we're on the same team. She was there when I peed my pants in the first grade, and she knows I have a hard time sitting still because I used to squirm around on the rug when we were in kindergarten. That level of detail is alot for a fully grown woman to know about a 16 year old kid.
And believe me, she is fully grown. I was well aware of that in sixth grade when I started noticing. And I guess alot of guys started noticing because the seating arrangement in the class kind of changed after that, but I stayed in my seat because I liked my seat and I could see her just fine in all of the crazy facebook pictures she took of herself and posted online.
So one night, in the Fall of Autumn of our sophomore year, I went walking around because I couldn't sleep. I used to stay up, with my eyes closed, imagining things while I layed under the covers in bed. One night I started imagining the neighborhood, and the streets outside, and I thought, why don't I just get up and see it in real life? I'm lying awake anyway, just thinking about it. So I went for a walk by myself, out down the street and around the corner. It was about 3 Am, and nothing is really moving at that time of night. But when the moon is really bright, everything looks blue and seems like it's in slow motion, because everything is barely moving at all.
I like the way that the trees cover the road. Their long branches extend and in the fall, they create a bright red tunnel for cars to drive underneath. Some of the leaves were gone, and the moon was poking through the thinner sections of branches, and the leaves. I decided that I wanted to center myself directly into the middle of the scenery, and walk in a straight line right down the center of the road. I figured at that period of time in the middle of the night, there are no cars. So I did just that.
It was while I was in between pretending the middle of the road was a tightrope, and my following the moon through the trees, that I noticed a figure, right down the center of the horizon. My first inclination was to believe that I was still asleep. I tried imagining if I was in bed or not. The shape appeared to be a girl in a nightgown. I looked at her shape and knew it was Ani.
We walked up to eachother and there was an intense moment of suspense. We kiss... or do we? That's the thing.
"I'm not sure if this is a dream or not," I tell my friends at the lunch table.
"So wait, let me get this straight. You're out sleepwalking. Or you're asleep. And you see Ani and she's sleepwalking."
"Ronnie. You're having a dream."
"It was a dream, Ronnie. There's no way that this could possibly have been real. It sounds too made up to be real."
One of my friends, Erik, says the most common sense thing out of all of them.
"You're not going to notice unless you ask."
We walk out of the lunch room and down the hall. I think, "You know, that's going to sound like the cheesiest pickup line ever."
She looks at me like she never had before. It was partial amazement, part wonder. I knew without words the answer but I asked anyway, because I was kind of on autopilot at the moment.
Final Scene
Ronnie walks around the neighborhood, looking for some flowers to pick for Ani.
He finds a bunch that he likes, while being very selective about picking some that remind him the most of her.
When he gets to her door, the flowers planted on the porch are completely identical to the ones that he chose.
Down the street, in the middle of the street...
Friday, January 20, 2012
The Obscelete
1. On the difference between "City" and "Town"
That's another issue. What I plan to write about is sovereignty. At a time when the global escalation of warfare steeps to a point they're ready to call it "World War," another sort of governance takes form.
The leaders will be expected to claim victory. Some of those will be marginally victorious in the ancients of history. The financiers will claim victory over the loss of lives, which their hand-outs facilitate.
The dissenters will be jailed and forced into labor camps. That's not an order, that's a prophesy. I will be the one who liberates the camps. We cannot be afraid of the people who are brought back into society once they are held in captivity, but we will begin to see the Transformative War. We must embrace ourselves for this challenge. Here's the chronology, for those who need to know:
- World War breaks out when clashes between Russia and NATO begin over Syria.
- It continues as Naval Warfare in the Pacific between the Chinese and the US.
- Iran blocks the oil to the United States under pressure of their own leadership, once they gain the expressed military alliance with Russia.
- Cuba and Venezuela quietly join the fight, siding with the former Soviets.
- Brazil, Canada, and other energy-independent nations claim neutrality. US forces Canada to fight.
- The US loses over half of its foreign military in a single nuclear strike by the Russians. Not sure how to respond, because none of the strikes targeted sovereign soil.
- Oil blockade forces US into the 6-month scenario
- US Military is defeated in under a year, now in its own civil conflict.
I can try to describe that civil conflict next episode. That's all I can share for now.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Call Of Duty Scenarios
The Videogame, "Call Of Duty" often deals with wartime scenarios, and puts the player in the first person perspective of a protagonist in these situations. In these circumstances, the player's job is to kill people in order to accomplish a goal. Of course, these aren't real people, but it might as well be considered as training because training simulators that the Army uses are fairly identical.
In this report, the illustrious Aaron Dykes picks up the latest copy of "Game Informer" magazine, where an article describes the kind of new plots one might expect to see from the makers of the Tom Clancy Rainbow Six series line of the first-person shooter. Disconcerting, to say the least.
So in this series of journalistic articles, I will attempt to describe some video game plots that I would like to see occur over the eventuality of my own lifespan. Some of these are more like diplomacy videogames. Others of them resemble the same kind of military operations described in Call Of Duty, except you're a medic and your goal is to save as many people as you can.
Stuff like that, know what I mean?
Stuff like that, know what I mean?
Egypt Revolution Scenario
Phase 1. People get the idea somewhere that if they protest, the military might force president to step down. Probably information from the Brotherhood of Muslims.
Phase 2. Military takes power peacefully, changes nothing.
Phase 3. People claim that the military is not making good with their desires.
Then they start protesting again.
The protests this time are not met with the same tenderness of the police/MP.
MUNICIPALITIES: Do not let foreign sources fund your police brigades.
MAYORS: Keep control of the presence of military. Prepare for measures to remove or inconvenience or enact enforceable policy that keeps occupying military out of your city, especially for establishing permanent posts.
Fact: That military is one of many regimes being set now into place in the Middle East. Every country is preparing for war.
If it were me, I'd get the hell out of here.
But there's nowhere to go...
Planet Earth
Phase 2. Military takes power peacefully, changes nothing.
Phase 3. People claim that the military is not making good with their desires.
Then they start protesting again.
The protests this time are not met with the same tenderness of the police/MP.
MUNICIPALITIES: Do not let foreign sources fund your police brigades.
MAYORS: Keep control of the presence of military. Prepare for measures to remove or inconvenience or enact enforceable policy that keeps occupying military out of your city, especially for establishing permanent posts.
Fact: That military is one of many regimes being set now into place in the Middle East. Every country is preparing for war.
If it were me, I'd get the hell out of here.
But there's nowhere to go...
Planet Earth
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
FrontRunners
Imagined an event where a guy left a sign in someone's house. She ran back crying and didn't get the joke, and said, "There's nothing worse than a house that's not a home!" We were all perplexed why she didn't see the humor. Apparently it wasn't bad enough that we weren't close to her in that way, because we all needed to break into her house in order to make the joke.
A few days later, an officer from the fence yard got pulled off duty. He came in and sat down everyone that was laughing that night as she wept. The officer took a tone which sounded like an exasperated parent, once again having to inquisition the immature children around the base. We were all role-playing positions in our previous lives, but none of it felt real.
As fully grown men, we could only chuckle at the situation, because it seemed so insignificant. A prank pulled on a neighbor, one we all thought was too serious. I'm not sure if it were the original intent, but let's just say she didn't loosen up one bit. She tightened her grip on the only thing she had left, which happened to be the imposing authorities all around us.
The guard came up early in the afternoon as people started to arrive after their work for the day. All that they were able to do, because there was no entertainment, was literally sit in the middle of a courtyard. Their wits were worn down to the point where they couldn't even hold conversations anymore. All they could do was argue, and pretend that they were "leadership" and their opinions existed. The officer guard came up to the group, and said, "Who put the sign in Miss Kiera's kitchen?" And they all said, "No, no, I didn't do it. We didn't touch a thing. Then it became a forensic experiment. "I want you all to write 'Good morning Sweetie' on a card sign. Right now. Do it now!" so we all wrote our separate notes on our cards. Miss Kiera wasn't around to see any of this. Then the officer took all the cards and said "Alright now, you're all guilty."
Old Remmy, the rambler who barely ever said a word, remarked, "But Mr. Officer Guardsman, just because we laughed doesn't mean we're guilty." And then ToughGuy chimed in. "Look buddy, for all we know, you could have done it."
"Let's get one thing straight, ToughGuy. I'm the one that's playing the detective. Not you. You just sit around and wait until the day your number's called. Let's see if a grand jury isn't going to believe it's a forgery if we use the one you just gave to me as evidence."
Calling numbers, nobody really knew what it meant. Our access to information was fairly poor. Once your number was called, they would take you away from the camp, and you'd never be heard from again. That could either be a bad thing or a good thing. Sometimes they told people in a pleasant manner, but other times it was more of a threatening thing to have ones' number called. It just meant that you were leaving, but they didn't really say where. It was still really clear that society was just too dangerous and that we'd have to stay in these detainment camps until the war was completely over. There were reports, too, that airstrikes against the detainee camps might happen, as well.
What started as a way to get us off the streets of New York City became a nightmarish retreat into a world that looked something like Shindler's List meets Grapes of Wrath. Morgan Freedom's voice sounds punishing, like the Old Testament, when he said, "In a world where dumb people are punished for their lack of intelligence..."
But I don't believe that it's a lack of intelligence, like many of our more fortunate friends might believe. Or a situation of luck that could compound in complexity until they saw the very worst of luck in history. This story is about the disconnect of one group of human beings to another group of humans, in a manner that many would say is the difference between species.
One species want to dominate the other, whom they identify as "not their kind" by their unwillingness to be cut-throat ruthless in attacking the system with the same voracity for all that it's worth. But it's foolishness for those people for attacking a system that was set up to protect the rights of all people, because they don't know how, in the long run, they'll also be affected. We're all part of the planet no matter what party you favor or species you decide you're in.
"Do you think they mean what they said, about throwing us all away?" said Biffer. ToughGuy looked longingly at the ground, as if wishing to become dirt and said, "That whole prank was a bad idea."
"But we never have any fun," said Paul Ramses. He was right, there wasn't nearly enough recreational time. He was there because he was actually from a corporation, which is part of the reason that he didn't use a nickname. He didn't get the #Occupy stance on nicknames. We all had one because we were protesting our parents for bringing us into this crappy existence. He still believed that by using his real name, there would be a coherent record of his every good deed, and that a nickname might cause him to resort to bad deeds. Little did he know that we knew where to find people like ToughGuy every day. We didn't need to track his banking statements and abduct him at an ATM withdrawal, as was the case with Mr. Ramses. The pharaoh's days were over, and he could no longer be king. The judge prosecuted him on crimes that even his honor did not understand, basing the verdict on the credit of the good name of the office that was indicting him.
What's ironic? He was let into this camp that we consider ours, as extra punishment for this rejection by his peers, as if to say that "you're not better than them, the ones you helped us screw for all those years." Nobody was really sure what he actually did, but it was clearly criminal in nature, based on the description we were given. This made the situation a little more ambiguous, about whether we were in custody for crimes, or if we were just being sheltered until the Great Emergency was over. One might even tell you... For the things you know are all around you. If you can't change your surroundings, then you just end up knowing less. I realize that this place makes you dumber. I've become aware of that to some extent, because I know that I just can't confide in anyone. There's nobody else out in this entire place who understands me enough that I would want to believe I could confide in them. But I also don't have the insensitivity to be a guard. I guess I'll continue being me, and very quietly continuing.
Next Entry
I felt very far away from the distant realm of nature. The housing project looked on the side of a very good place. The nurses at the station were all very much good people who wanted to help, but the rules were that you could not get pregnant, and if you were sick, there was nothing they could do for you except give you drugs. No surgeries, no operations other than amputations. And this was because there just weren't enough doctors to go around performing all of the operations necessary to keep us alive if something serious . I don't want you to be afraid, but there's a fairly good chance that this could affect you for the rest of your life," a real doctor would say to you, when something was potentially wrong. But these 'doctors' were like a bunch of clown doctors when it came to telling people what was actually wrong with them. They too were essentially being punished by someone or something, I remember accidentally handing someone a huge check that I wrote for something else. And the clerk went back and changed the price so that it was lower. Time was wearing me down.
A few days later, an officer from the fence yard got pulled off duty. He came in and sat down everyone that was laughing that night as she wept. The officer took a tone which sounded like an exasperated parent, once again having to inquisition the immature children around the base. We were all role-playing positions in our previous lives, but none of it felt real.
As fully grown men, we could only chuckle at the situation, because it seemed so insignificant. A prank pulled on a neighbor, one we all thought was too serious. I'm not sure if it were the original intent, but let's just say she didn't loosen up one bit. She tightened her grip on the only thing she had left, which happened to be the imposing authorities all around us.
The guard came up early in the afternoon as people started to arrive after their work for the day. All that they were able to do, because there was no entertainment, was literally sit in the middle of a courtyard. Their wits were worn down to the point where they couldn't even hold conversations anymore. All they could do was argue, and pretend that they were "leadership" and their opinions existed. The officer guard came up to the group, and said, "Who put the sign in Miss Kiera's kitchen?" And they all said, "No, no, I didn't do it. We didn't touch a thing. Then it became a forensic experiment. "I want you all to write 'Good morning Sweetie' on a card sign. Right now. Do it now!" so we all wrote our separate notes on our cards. Miss Kiera wasn't around to see any of this. Then the officer took all the cards and said "Alright now, you're all guilty."
Old Remmy, the rambler who barely ever said a word, remarked, "But Mr. Officer Guardsman, just because we laughed doesn't mean we're guilty." And then ToughGuy chimed in. "Look buddy, for all we know, you could have done it."
"Let's get one thing straight, ToughGuy. I'm the one that's playing the detective. Not you. You just sit around and wait until the day your number's called. Let's see if a grand jury isn't going to believe it's a forgery if we use the one you just gave to me as evidence."
Calling numbers, nobody really knew what it meant. Our access to information was fairly poor. Once your number was called, they would take you away from the camp, and you'd never be heard from again. That could either be a bad thing or a good thing. Sometimes they told people in a pleasant manner, but other times it was more of a threatening thing to have ones' number called. It just meant that you were leaving, but they didn't really say where. It was still really clear that society was just too dangerous and that we'd have to stay in these detainment camps until the war was completely over. There were reports, too, that airstrikes against the detainee camps might happen, as well.
What started as a way to get us off the streets of New York City became a nightmarish retreat into a world that looked something like Shindler's List meets Grapes of Wrath. Morgan Freedom's voice sounds punishing, like the Old Testament, when he said, "In a world where dumb people are punished for their lack of intelligence..."
But I don't believe that it's a lack of intelligence, like many of our more fortunate friends might believe. Or a situation of luck that could compound in complexity until they saw the very worst of luck in history. This story is about the disconnect of one group of human beings to another group of humans, in a manner that many would say is the difference between species.
One species want to dominate the other, whom they identify as "not their kind" by their unwillingness to be cut-throat ruthless in attacking the system with the same voracity for all that it's worth. But it's foolishness for those people for attacking a system that was set up to protect the rights of all people, because they don't know how, in the long run, they'll also be affected. We're all part of the planet no matter what party you favor or species you decide you're in.
"Do you think they mean what they said, about throwing us all away?" said Biffer. ToughGuy looked longingly at the ground, as if wishing to become dirt and said, "That whole prank was a bad idea."
"But we never have any fun," said Paul Ramses. He was right, there wasn't nearly enough recreational time. He was there because he was actually from a corporation, which is part of the reason that he didn't use a nickname. He didn't get the #Occupy stance on nicknames. We all had one because we were protesting our parents for bringing us into this crappy existence. He still believed that by using his real name, there would be a coherent record of his every good deed, and that a nickname might cause him to resort to bad deeds. Little did he know that we knew where to find people like ToughGuy every day. We didn't need to track his banking statements and abduct him at an ATM withdrawal, as was the case with Mr. Ramses. The pharaoh's days were over, and he could no longer be king. The judge prosecuted him on crimes that even his honor did not understand, basing the verdict on the credit of the good name of the office that was indicting him.
What's ironic? He was let into this camp that we consider ours, as extra punishment for this rejection by his peers, as if to say that "you're not better than them, the ones you helped us screw for all those years." Nobody was really sure what he actually did, but it was clearly criminal in nature, based on the description we were given. This made the situation a little more ambiguous, about whether we were in custody for crimes, or if we were just being sheltered until the Great Emergency was over. One might even tell you... For the things you know are all around you. If you can't change your surroundings, then you just end up knowing less. I realize that this place makes you dumber. I've become aware of that to some extent, because I know that I just can't confide in anyone. There's nobody else out in this entire place who understands me enough that I would want to believe I could confide in them. But I also don't have the insensitivity to be a guard. I guess I'll continue being me, and very quietly continuing.
Next Entry
I felt very far away from the distant realm of nature. The housing project looked on the side of a very good place. The nurses at the station were all very much good people who wanted to help, but the rules were that you could not get pregnant, and if you were sick, there was nothing they could do for you except give you drugs. No surgeries, no operations other than amputations. And this was because there just weren't enough doctors to go around performing all of the operations necessary to keep us alive if something serious . I don't want you to be afraid, but there's a fairly good chance that this could affect you for the rest of your life," a real doctor would say to you, when something was potentially wrong. But these 'doctors' were like a bunch of clown doctors when it came to telling people what was actually wrong with them. They too were essentially being punished by someone or something, I remember accidentally handing someone a huge check that I wrote for something else. And the clerk went back and changed the price so that it was lower. Time was wearing me down.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Escape!
This whole thing started like a nightmare. It ended like a dream, when I woke up and found out that none of it was real... at least the personal part of it.
It was early. The two of us rose from our cells, these classrooms they gave us. Guys were put in one, and the women stayed in the other. They each had their own set of problems but the guards said it was to keep the population down. They only let the ones they want to have kids actually do anything. And they have the rest of us conduct large ceremonies, even if the people getting married have no interest in it. They were "chosen" and by that, this meant favors. These favors had not meant freedom, but they were worth something, just the same.
The rest of us tended to the biology labs. They taught us all how to make bugs disappear with zappers, and told us to be ready if there were ever a big giant wave of bugs. We thought they were kidding, but then one day a huge swarm of bugs flew our way. And we knew exactly what to do. They said survival of the fittest is how the Universe becomes more intelligent. So during any of these drills, a few would perish. But that was just the meaning behind the experience, I guess.
I kept justifying it inside of my head that everything was really supposed to happen the way that I imagined in my dreams. This was so far from a dream, that I felt it was just beyond my control, to see the world get any better. I knew there was a big war on the other side of the fence, and that no one was really alive, and that we were 'safe' here, they said. But still, I wanted to go outside. I needed to know if there really was a big war, or that I was only imagining it. I had no idea what was in store for us next.
See, here's the thing. We were led to this place, disbelieving the reason why we were prodded so adamantly away from our destination that day. It was an ordinary day, when it happened. We were just going to work. I was walking, with my wife, and we stopped at the bus stop and waited a little. Then, a parade of police cop cars came and arrested a whole bunch of people, including us. It sure looked like an arrest. There were sirens and horns and everything else. But then when we got inside the car, we asked the officers what happened. And they said:
"No you didn't do anything wrong."
"Well then why are you driving us away?" we asked.
"It's for your own safety," he said. "Everyone is in great danger."
How weird, I thought. No warning on the news. It feels like an arrest. But the cops keep assuring me that I did nothing wrong. I'm wondering why that is? I can't get mad at them, because they're cops and they're just doing their job. I am the invader, perhaps, to any police. Not because I live there, or it's my home, but because the officer wants to know my thoughts, and she can't have my mom," he said.
The guards all looked away. They had enough, overhearing our lame excuse for a conversation. We didn't make any sense to them anyways. As long as we weren't plotting an escape, they didn't care what we talked about. And there was a very easy way to tell what we were talking about, even to them who didn't understand us. We'd all get quiet, and discuss the goood old days. Then some people would start getting sore over just their loss of memory.
In my mind, I recognized that all of life is just a memory. And memories disappear when we die. What remains are the feelings we get when making connections. Some feelings are passed between lives, which prove that they really exist. I dream that when I pass in this life, my next one will be full of surprises, fulfillment, and just prizes.
I was meandering down the walkway today. That's all we can do. The guards are not paid, in fact they were also picked up that day that we were hauled into this kennel. They swear allegiance to the Lord. When people are screaming at you, do you have the sensibility to know someone? Those were the original points of discussion for all men, at one point in time.
Theta writing (sometimes dreaming) I come across some nonlinear parts. As the upcoming months approached, time stood still for the wanderers.
The trains ran all day and all night to the warehouse factory, where we stayed. I'd hear them late at night.
It was early. The two of us rose from our cells, these classrooms they gave us. Guys were put in one, and the women stayed in the other. They each had their own set of problems but the guards said it was to keep the population down. They only let the ones they want to have kids actually do anything. And they have the rest of us conduct large ceremonies, even if the people getting married have no interest in it. They were "chosen" and by that, this meant favors. These favors had not meant freedom, but they were worth something, just the same.
The rest of us tended to the biology labs. They taught us all how to make bugs disappear with zappers, and told us to be ready if there were ever a big giant wave of bugs. We thought they were kidding, but then one day a huge swarm of bugs flew our way. And we knew exactly what to do. They said survival of the fittest is how the Universe becomes more intelligent. So during any of these drills, a few would perish. But that was just the meaning behind the experience, I guess.
I kept justifying it inside of my head that everything was really supposed to happen the way that I imagined in my dreams. This was so far from a dream, that I felt it was just beyond my control, to see the world get any better. I knew there was a big war on the other side of the fence, and that no one was really alive, and that we were 'safe' here, they said. But still, I wanted to go outside. I needed to know if there really was a big war, or that I was only imagining it. I had no idea what was in store for us next.
See, here's the thing. We were led to this place, disbelieving the reason why we were prodded so adamantly away from our destination that day. It was an ordinary day, when it happened. We were just going to work. I was walking, with my wife, and we stopped at the bus stop and waited a little. Then, a parade of police cop cars came and arrested a whole bunch of people, including us. It sure looked like an arrest. There were sirens and horns and everything else. But then when we got inside the car, we asked the officers what happened. And they said:
"No you didn't do anything wrong."
"Well then why are you driving us away?" we asked.
"It's for your own safety," he said. "Everyone is in great danger."
How weird, I thought. No warning on the news. It feels like an arrest. But the cops keep assuring me that I did nothing wrong. I'm wondering why that is? I can't get mad at them, because they're cops and they're just doing their job. I am the invader, perhaps, to any police. Not because I live there, or it's my home, but because the officer wants to know my thoughts, and she can't have my mom," he said.
The guards all looked away. They had enough, overhearing our lame excuse for a conversation. We didn't make any sense to them anyways. As long as we weren't plotting an escape, they didn't care what we talked about. And there was a very easy way to tell what we were talking about, even to them who didn't understand us. We'd all get quiet, and discuss the goood old days. Then some people would start getting sore over just their loss of memory.
In my mind, I recognized that all of life is just a memory. And memories disappear when we die. What remains are the feelings we get when making connections. Some feelings are passed between lives, which prove that they really exist. I dream that when I pass in this life, my next one will be full of surprises, fulfillment, and just prizes.
I was meandering down the walkway today. That's all we can do. The guards are not paid, in fact they were also picked up that day that we were hauled into this kennel. They swear allegiance to the Lord. When people are screaming at you, do you have the sensibility to know someone? Those were the original points of discussion for all men, at one point in time.
Theta writing (sometimes dreaming) I come across some nonlinear parts. As the upcoming months approached, time stood still for the wanderers.
The trains ran all day and all night to the warehouse factory, where we stayed. I'd hear them late at night.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Thoughts About Alex Jones.
The thing you have to remember is that Alex Jones has essentially pioneered the front that we now call "the infowar." And it's a real thing, no doubt. There is an evil force in the world that needs to hide from the truth in order to exist. Alex made it his job to expose it.
Here's Alex, in the movie "Waking Life" (at 4:30 he appears), yelling into a bullhorn. This was my first encounter with his personality. You might say that he's capitalized on this notion of "Info-wars," and that might be true, depending on how much he's financially benefiting from his fame and success.
The issue with Jones, however, is that he believes that eventually people will have to fight back, and he's not really sure how to mobilize people in a positive way. He knows that war is not the answer. He's reported that the government has established detainee camps in the event that the civil unrest becomes beyond the power of the police to detain. So what's the answer, Alex?
For me, he's already the answer in himself, by pointing the finger at every elephant in the room, no matter how many there are, regardless of how big. Whether it's Gadaffi, retreating with a white flag envoy out of Sirte, getting hit by NATO en route to what he thought was his surrender. Or the dubious explanation of the mysterious collapse of Building 7.
As he gets more frantic with every one of his transmissions, you have to wonder if he's serious or just over-reacting. I can honestly say that "This is what... the world really is in this position."
It's something else, to see him with the camo shirt and the goofy haircut with the public-access show studio motif still lingering in the background. At his worst moments, he theorizes as fact, and that within itself is the real cause for why most people cannot stand listening to him for so long. But then, if he didn't, he wouldn't be who he is: a major general in the info war.
"I told you that the announce of a bank of the world and the global currency is the solution to the European crisis in The Obama Deception, three years ago." I'm so used to listening to this guy that this quote actually makes sense to me. My interest in listening to him with the frequency that I often do with other news aggregates like the Huffington Post is because it's just so freakin' entertaining that I keep on tuning in. In that regard, Alex Jones is doing his job. He's doing a particularly good job, especially for me, because it's difficult for most people to get my attention like this.
If you have any preconceived notions about how the world works, or if the world favors you in any particular way, then it is likely that you might subconsciously filter his information with your own defenses, because much of what he says is delivered with an increasing sense of urgency.
If I really thought he was dangerous, I would say so. Unfortunately I don't think that he's making much of this stuff up. I know for a fact that much of what he's saying is true. Partially because of the documents that he presents to back up his stories, either with official documents or by news sources. Every day he comes up with a stack of papers that he collects from these sources, so he's an active spokesperson for his own 'leaks' type organization.
He argues that the reason that these documents are not publicized are because the interests of the people who are trying to keep their information private are essentially criminal. It's hard to be a spokesperson for justice but I have only been made aware of how difficult that position actually is through watching Alex Jones. Here's his youtube channel.
Here's Alex, in the movie "Waking Life" (at 4:30 he appears), yelling into a bullhorn. This was my first encounter with his personality. You might say that he's capitalized on this notion of "Info-wars," and that might be true, depending on how much he's financially benefiting from his fame and success.
The issue with Jones, however, is that he believes that eventually people will have to fight back, and he's not really sure how to mobilize people in a positive way. He knows that war is not the answer. He's reported that the government has established detainee camps in the event that the civil unrest becomes beyond the power of the police to detain. So what's the answer, Alex?
For me, he's already the answer in himself, by pointing the finger at every elephant in the room, no matter how many there are, regardless of how big. Whether it's Gadaffi, retreating with a white flag envoy out of Sirte, getting hit by NATO en route to what he thought was his surrender. Or the dubious explanation of the mysterious collapse of Building 7.
As he gets more frantic with every one of his transmissions, you have to wonder if he's serious or just over-reacting. I can honestly say that "This is what... the world really is in this position."
It's something else, to see him with the camo shirt and the goofy haircut with the public-access show studio motif still lingering in the background. At his worst moments, he theorizes as fact, and that within itself is the real cause for why most people cannot stand listening to him for so long. But then, if he didn't, he wouldn't be who he is: a major general in the info war.
"I told you that the announce of a bank of the world and the global currency is the solution to the European crisis in The Obama Deception, three years ago." I'm so used to listening to this guy that this quote actually makes sense to me. My interest in listening to him with the frequency that I often do with other news aggregates like the Huffington Post is because it's just so freakin' entertaining that I keep on tuning in. In that regard, Alex Jones is doing his job. He's doing a particularly good job, especially for me, because it's difficult for most people to get my attention like this.
If you have any preconceived notions about how the world works, or if the world favors you in any particular way, then it is likely that you might subconsciously filter his information with your own defenses, because much of what he says is delivered with an increasing sense of urgency.
If I really thought he was dangerous, I would say so. Unfortunately I don't think that he's making much of this stuff up. I know for a fact that much of what he's saying is true. Partially because of the documents that he presents to back up his stories, either with official documents or by news sources. Every day he comes up with a stack of papers that he collects from these sources, so he's an active spokesperson for his own 'leaks' type organization.
He argues that the reason that these documents are not publicized are because the interests of the people who are trying to keep their information private are essentially criminal. It's hard to be a spokesperson for justice but I have only been made aware of how difficult that position actually is through watching Alex Jones. Here's his youtube channel.
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