When the Moon Hits my Eyes

After spending a night out...
KInd of....
I have to be honest, the way that my health is and the way that the world is I have to be a little more cautious than I did when I was in my twenties.  
Back then I didn't so much think that I was invincible. 
It was just that, all through my youth I thought I was going to be an Army Ranger.  So I pushed myself to be.  
And with that sort of mentality comes a certain acceptance that age is a luxery and reality can be a harsh mistress. 
As has been stated elswhere in many other writings I was unable to serve because of the "Don't ask, Don't Tell policies."   And anyone that has met me knows that when I choose to talk on a topic or offer my opinion on something I can be rather...abrupt...about it.  
Anyway.   
So I started off stargazing at the playground, then as the cold started to set into my bones I realized I needed to warm up a bit so I set off looking to see what the pandemic night life had to offer.   
Not much in the way sights and sounds where I was.   At least until I passed through one of the regular gatherring points on the bike path.   I called for services to check on a guy that was either tweaking hard or trying to get someones attention.  Regardless, it was nighttime and it seemed like there were more people with him than appeared so I mosied.   Which was the right call, because on my way back through the area to try and find a quiet star gazing point again folks started coming out of the wood works and populating the areas I had previously passed through.  
Regardless of their intentions towards me I was tired after having been up and on a survey run for most of the day and then hiking all over the parks area in the in between.    
Feeling more than a little on edge and realizing that an issue that had started the other day wasn't getting any better I turned to the only medical services at the hour and went to the emergency room.  
To be honest, Ifelt bad for it.   I just got approved for the insurance and walking into an Emergency room to get parts of myself my eyes couldn't see looked at seemed selfish.  But the truth is that it really had me concerrned and I didn't want to plop my ass down somewhere just to have it cause me more issues than I could handle.  
I went through the non emergency doors and tried to explain that it wasn't an emergency but that it was urgent. 
The folks at the ER were kind and professional.
 They checked me out, took some blood, gave me a shot to help keep me on my feet and sent me on my way.   Luckily the issue I had not being an infection....just a hernia.   
That's what I thought when it happened, but...It's not really a place I could properly examine myself and if it had been something else I didn't want to put myself beyond help on my first night actually out under the stars.  
From there I took the long way back round to where I had started the evening, picked up a sandwich and a soda for later and then looked for a place to sit down and have a cup of coffee and my first proper meal in a couple of days.   
Aso here I am, reflecting on the evening.  
Questioning everything that happened and trying to take the night view of the greenway plan I've been slowly outlining over the past few years.   
The greenway is beautiful and I've had some thoughts as to ways to make it a destination taht would, with enough support, not get rid of the homeless population of the area (though that is always the goal isn't it, to get everyone into a home of some sort?) but to better manage the impacts of homlessness on the surrounding community while creating another draw for tourism and community involvment.   
More on that later...

Trains of Thought.

As I sit her surveying the path of the train tracks in the valley and looking for sights to propose as local train stops.   
Busees are agile for getting around a town so that a certain amount of flexibility can be built into a public transit system.   And it has been shown the world over that train travel is the most resource efficiant way of commuting and travel.   
So, we look at rural counties.  often a central, largish, town with several smaller towns spread around it, largely supported by the freight and traffic flow of that larger city to keep themselves funded.   It's no different in larger metro areas.   The sprawl of people just filled in all of the space in between.   So, while we have a Rural Amerrica set up for agriculture that can litterally feed the world...and now that we have the rough draft (easy to lay roadways for cars) and start going over the map with ink (passenger rail)

  
Rail is a higher investment upfront than roadways, but over their life time the cost is often more than negilgable.   If that statment weren't true then major countries in the world would not have such robust rail systems and we, as Americans, wouldn't still be using them to transport the heaviest and roughest freight.  

So, we start an initiative for small regional rail systems, to which I'm working on a model fore the region that I'm living in currently.  
The fun part is that when the rail lines were originally installed the evesment was based around technology that was far from being miniraturized.   Heavy engines and miles long trains.   For regional passenger rail maintnence would be much less on the infrastructuree portion because passenger cars are much lighter then freight rail cars.  Which gives us, now that we have more durable and lightweight materials the ability to build twice as much travel and comfortability into a smaller space. 

As far as the cost of the cars is concertned....that apart we take a leaf out of NASCAR's book.  
Corporate sponsered cars for commuter travel, small buisness sponsered cars for buisness and leisure travel, school and educational sponsered cars for student travel.   
Now imagine, rather than having a corporate sponsered car the car it's self is a buisness.
A shop, a lounge, a...well probably not a barber shop.   

So, commuter line...imagine a 10 module piece.   

1. The Engine

2. The Crew Car (for 24 hour service) 

3. The cafe, either rail ran or local buisness ran. 

4. The office car.   
Small office spaces for lease or rent to offer a unique space for holding meetings and virtual confrenses.   With a smaller regional line the hand off from connection point to connection point would stable enough for lowish quality video live streaming...maybe.  
Wireless tech is becoming better at these sorts of thigns.

5. The public car.   A space to act as a waiting room for the cafe (with a table reservation system if things become busy enough.  

6. Public Transit car, the nominal fair car with simple seating for short rides from stop to stop.  

7. Secondary public transit car for those with bikes and assistave devices.  
Though if we take a note from the public busses the seats could be modular to allow space for bikes and things.   

8. Commisary car.  A small delivery vending service of items that can be selected through the travel app or by a filled out menu ticket (think something like a sushi menu)  

9. Student Car for travelers under 18 traveling alone.
10.  Emergency services. 
The caboose would be the firstaid and security station for the train as a whole.  

Then, depending on the region, availibilty and space on the track. smller express trains to go from point to point.   Private engines and trains for operation between or out side of heavy service hours....also, theres a design floating around somewhere for longer trips to be able to load vehicles for leisure and buisness travel.   Imean, why have an A.I. Driven car when you could just park on the train to cover a long portion of a journey, or to get your custom vehicle to an event.   
Ooo, private R.V.s on rails that can disengage from the track when the train pulls into the station.  Super fancy.  It would reduce the need for flexing in extra cars during events in an area.  

Oh,it's going to be a logistics nightmare to get a system lik ethat operating without a lot of hiccups...but that's kind of the fun of it in my mind.   

Digital Law Short Argument.

Yup.
So I'm sitting here, looking flipping between the roulette of "is it a legit sound file or is it an unsolicited rip.   
Then I'm like...hopefully the audio will get pulled if the artists object to the use. 
I do not believe in censorship. 
But I do belive in artist rights to the uses of their likeness. 
 Which, when an artist or public figure garners enough of a following they also draw detractors.  
So, what do you do in that situation.  
You have to have a team to monitor those things. 
In the old days I would just make multiple accounts and then the world caught up and everyone has a few dozen digital accounts at this point.  

So how do we verify them?  
Well, I say at the same time you get your drivers license.  
Where I grew up age 13 was the farm age for driving legaly to do chores.
So, you know, introduce the anon accounts at that age in the school system. 
Then introduce verfied accounts at about age 16.
What's a verified account? 
Well, if you're under 18 it means you can see people within your age bracket...under 21...
And those of your educators.   
After age 21, as a librarian, as far as I'm concerned you can view what ever the hell you want just make sure you have the capacity to handle it. 
but more importantly than the capacity, the permission.  Which comes to your verified account.  After age 21 you can make annon accounts that can interact with other 21+ annon accounts.   
However the annon accounts can interact with age 21 accounts if they an assigned caregiver, educator, or physical/mental health professional and are attatched to verfied accounts.

Creating ecosystems of digital informatioin.  
Closed and hardlined systems for emergency services.   Wirless access as a public standard transmitted by the emergency systems.  
So that, if you so choose, can access a public network from the hard point provided by the atmospheric detectors.   
So that, if you are in a group living situation dispatch can check the feed on your room/apartment.  
Accessing the point is giving the consent to monitor to emergency services essentially.  
Which brings us to street lamps...I have a sketch or two. 
So the rule of law being that video monitoring services can not be accessed unless an emergency call or rise above a certain decible level, a drop of breathable air, which brings us to baseboard monitoring for heavy gases.   
The point is already provided by the power outlets, so you just attatch the monitor (heavy gases) on the floor under the power outlet as part of the hard point. 

Anyways, somewhere in my files I have a much longer form of this argument that needs an editors touch.  
However, I think with this thing, we can argue a little more, probably a lot more.
 *editors note* add photos of sketches.
 <3. 

Briding the wage gap.

As I find myself back out on the drift again, still searching for a space to use as a base camp and another to use as an office.

   Maybe the same space, ideally the same space, but idealism and reality aren't always an option.   

But there in lies the rub.   
When I was divorced my financials where tied up because of that nonsense.   So I worked my ass off for the last year keeping up on my payments and expenses.  
It's funny. 
"we don't want to lend to you because you do not strike us as someone that will be able make the payments.  

And it's all like : "Honey:\;  I've been making those payments without fail for nearly 20 years to rental properties, utility companies, and every other necesity for living and doing business.  I pay my bills and I work my ass off to do it.   Just because yall don't want to help me consolidate all of these expenses into a home or business loan because "your income doesn't support it."  is a bunch of bullshit.  

Here's the truth of it.  
I work for others just enough to pay my bills.  
I work for myself and doing community service with the rest of my time.
Because in the modern economy, and for my generation, retierment (save for a lucky few) is an option that was removed from the table decades ago.  
So the question I have is, why should I break my back and put my health and safety at risk to increase my income if the income is unnecissary beyond covering the costs of living.   And since, if I (or others of this generation) are going to be able to retire it will be on such a low fixed income that we'll have to work to continue to support ourselves?
It all goes back to labor negotiations   
These companies posting billion dollar profit margins need to weight that against the abilities of their employees to support themselves or paying taxes to programs and social services that will suppliment their workforce.   Because as it stands most of the funding for those programs comes from taxes on the work force and donations from people that oftend do not have enough to donate but they do anyway.

While the employer does cover a large portion of those taxes in many situations Whould such a high tax rate be neccissary if the workforce was able to recive more of those funds directly in the form of a living wage requiring less dependance on public resources and charitable donations so that those resources can be saved for true emergencies like natural disasters and other threats to public safety/health. 

A self sufficiant wage is about 50k a year for a single individual and 100k a year for a family of four or less. 

But people don't need that much to survive some might argue.   You can support yourself on less...yes you can, and I have been doing so on and average less than 20k/year for a number of years.  

I got rid of my car which reduced my yearly overhead by nearly 15k in fuel, mantanannce and insurance.  then, when it comes to dinners out and going to the movies....well...to do those things I skip meals.  So if you see me at the theater, chances are I skipped more than a couple of days worth of eating during the week. 
Is that a healthy way to do it?
No, but it's the only way to maintain self suffency in the current market place when the largest and most essential work forces (outside of emergency services and healthcare professionals...though both of those need the agricultural and supply line supports afforded them by low wage workers) are unable to be self sufficent on the employment available to them.  
Why, as family units become smaller and more contained, multi and large family living are the majority of housing available, and the single/double occupancy living situations are prohibitivly expense compared to offered wages by the largest employers, the very same employers that have gotten to the point of almost completly destroying family owned and small businesses in the communities they inhabit. 
Lower costs on goods at what cost?
Utilizing a work force that is essential to keep everyone fed and housed by alowing them no other work options aside from non livable wages for a singular employer or having to cobble together multiple part time jobs just to make ends meet. 
But anyways...balancing the economy isnn't just a problem with finding the right tax rate v.s. the corporations/rich  
It is finding the true cost of modern living and making sure that wages match or there is properly funded social nets to support the cost of modern living.   

Largely a balnace between the two would both create a more stable government funding system to the point where the only true negotiations are for new projects and funding of existing programs is guranteed for those that need them. That way, if a new budgetary standeard isn't passed the maching continues steaming ahead while people nitpick over how to spend/save the overage.  
How have I survived on suh low funs over these many years.  Shared living, setting a budget based on my minmum income and only giving myself a small allowance for extras to keep sanity and health stable.  Then about once or twice a year seeing what I've saved and then utilizing that savings to pay for larger expenditures that I would not normally alow myself.   Usually an update to my tech but usually paying off the balance of what ever borrowing I did during that time. 
I follow the "succesful with money" rules.  
But I am yet to find a job that is willing to pay either a minimum living wage as reflected by modern costs and overhead or qualify for the lending necissary to be self sufficient.  Anyways, aide from digital rights the other issue i'm researching and crunching is what a modern minum wage looks like while avoiding destroying small buisness with the costs or scaring large coporations onto hiking their prices to the point of making the minum wage unsustainable again. 
That's the hard part, the scary part, and the scary part. 
Finding the balance.  
And being able to succesfully negotiate it without putting lives or livelyhoods in danger beyond the possibility of a carrer change as the economy continues to evolve with the instant connectivity that modern technoloogy offers. 

Stay Safe.  
I'm going to keep my ear to the ground and crunching possibilities v.s. probabilities while trying to find an economic balance that will be healthy on a local, state, national, and global scale. 

Bills and Rights.

Arguably one of the most frustraiting things as the digital commerce and registrations become more prevelent  in the world briding the divide is the next great task that we face.  

The technology exists, the need and usefulness for it proven, but a stable and steady deployment is still being figured out.  

Nothing moves faster than the digital landscape and because of this finding a new operating standard for the digital world is becoming more and more necissary.   

Not from an enforcment perspective. 
  The truth is that bad people will do bad things no matter the location or platform, but from an intigration perspective.   
Creating an A.I. governed nanny state is not the goal.  The goal is to make sure that everyone has access to the resources and things that they need.   

Libraries have become an amazing place for this sort of thing, but because of limited budgets and often hard resistance from those believing that governtment assistance is a bad thing, their hours, budgets, and very existance are often considered suplufurious...(one day I will learn to spell)...
When in actuallity Libraries are the one truly open and safe spaces we have in modern society.   

I've written a paper and outlined a way of using Libraries around the nation to bridge the digital divide and build up the community center of the future.

The only thing that I'm still working out, and will need assistance for, is hammering out the digital legislation that is long overdue.   

We have had 40 years to live and grow with a publicly accessable internet.   
We've seen it's effects, it's possibilities, and it's dangers.   
It is time that we recognize that the digital age is on us, the revolution now, and the future of the world, literally in our hands.  
right now it is a chaotic mess more resembeling the ...settlment.. of the Americas.   

However, with the digital expansion there is literally limitless territory to disover, and sorting through the offerings, resources, and oppertunities has become an overwhelming daluge of information and entertainment. 

So where does the library come into this? 
Storage and Moderation. 
Not censorship,  moderation. 
That is the job of a librarian after all,  to be aware of and able to navigate informational databases.  From the written word to the hollywood blockbuster it has been Librarians jobs for time immmorial to sort through and provide knowledge sought by the inquisitive. 
So why not make the Library the "Martials of the internet."   Turn the library into the filter for that information.   The taggers, the baggers, and the reporters. 

Tagging the content for search and warnings. 
(i.e. a rating system for publicly posted and accesible content)  

Bagging copyright violations for review.  

And the reporters of possible or probable rights vilolations on the free internet.  (i.e. human trafficking or scam/spam related content)

But before we can have a library model for public internet and broadcast we need to get the digital rights laws hammered out into something more than a piece of chewing gum trying to stop a damn from bursting.   

Because the dam of digital content and need is bursting and the old dam is going to fall apart.   So we need to either build a levy system down the stream to keep flooding in check or we build a damn capable of holding back the waters.

  
Personally I like the levy system because it keeps the water flowing strong and clean to all of the places down stream with a smaller dam for metering the flow rather than building a giant damn that is going to prevent the water from flowing into habitats further down stream and by way of censorship and propaganda. 

I have a paper, I have a model.  But taking a model that is meant for a global scale and trying to build it as a single person is impossible.  
However, by getting the tech giants, the capitalists, the socialists, the communists, and the librarians to sit down and hammer out the problem together it makes it all probable.  

Why do I give Librarians a different designation than the others.   
Because Capitalists want everything paid for

Socialists want it all free.

Communists want it all equally.

Librarians...answer questions while guarding your privacy and are often inscrutable until you ask them about a topic they're passionate about.   

Stay safe, I have more homework to do before a solid proposal can be brought forward as a bill and I'll need a lot more help after the bill hits the floor. 

Musical Interlude

For all of those table top players out there.  
Use the "Mix Tape" approach.   

It's what I've done for almost every campaign.  


Build a play list that is the length of your groups average game session that reflects the coursse of the campain. 

   
Build in background songs to help set the mood in the beginning and then throught the list build in "themes" to plot points or story encoutners.   Then, during each session of the campaign, when a song comes on drop a hint or clue to one of the players through "insperation"  taking into account a background aspect or skill that would give th em that insight.   
Then, when they come across that encounter put that song on loop.

Like in flims, scoring your campaign is a  good way to build in background foreshadowing, flesh out character traits and story flavor, help a stalled party find the direction they need to go, and, once the encounter is passed the song will help remind the players of the clues and information they recieved from it.   

Or, for the loot goblins, remind them of that one magic trinket they picked up and shoved to the bottom of their bag but need for this specific encounter....sorts of things.

Lastly, when selecting music to add to play lists select things that are primarily instermental or none linguistic in their vocalizations.  
Unless of course, you want to use the lyrics as part of the puzzle surrounding the encounter. 

lastly, for the game runners out there, having a session legnth score helps keep the pacing and acts as a session timer to que to yourself and the players to begin prepatory activities, like finding rest points and deciding on skills and crafts the characters might practice between sessions. 

I dunno, just a thought for someone out there that might run a game in the future...

Not it.
I volunteer as note taker for the next campaign. 

Equality in the Modern Age

The industrialization of agraiculture has wrote havoc on the bioms of the word.   Though a necissary step to ensure the sruvival of humanity we have reached a breaking  point.

The original industralization of agriculture was that of slave labor.   Utilizing human and animal labor in conditions that those forcing the work deemed unsafe for themselves be it environmental hazards, health hazards, or exhertion without sustinance.   

Often a combination of the three. 

Now that we have gotten to the point within human history that production of food at the cost of human lives has become negligable.  the laborers of the industry still sacrifice the most by way of exhertion to compensation.   
Be that at the production side or the retail side and those in between. 
  
A balancing of the local, national, and world econmy does not take some grand sweeping change in the function of the system, nore does it require and immidate and savage redistribution of wealth and resources.   
No, our fight in the modern economy is almost purly digital.

  
Finding humane ways of policing and soldiering without enacting faciest regiem changes starts at creating sustainable agricultural and health networks.

By creating these networks and steming the root causes of exploitation that alow human trafficing and slavery to continue to exist.  

....

Let me sumerise for the sake of blogging brevity.  

If we create a socialized labor force to support a capitalist market place it would solve many of the existing issues of resource inbalance amongst communities.   

The shift, by paying higher wages to "low skilled" labor, and making salary the standard over hourly pay, then the shift in redistribution of wealth would be a much slower change, but more stable and impactful in the long run. 

Rather than creating boom towns and gold rushes we would be creating stable communities an agile work force.  

Making formerly undeiserable but essential jobs in the retail and service sectors into a support network for ensentivized work and "growth sector"jobs.  

I.e. market shifts and industry  collapses bieng a by product of a captalist market.  Such as the shift from rental stores to streaming or the exhaustion of a resources from a mining or quarrying effort. 

Taking the idea of a Basic income for educators and essential workers to create a more stabelized work force without having the French Revolution or an American Civil War as an over correction to  problems that we have long since solved.  

Yes Xenophobia and Exploitive people/orginizations still exist and more than probably will long after the passing of anyone currently living.  But at the end of the day, the jobs of those trying to live, learn and explore becomes easier and those looking to enslave and exploits efforts will become harder.
As I see it. 
It's not a soldiering or policing problem on either side of the black and blue line that we stand.   
It's a logistics problem in the housing and healthcare sectors, a pay imbalance starting with race, traveling over the hills of trying to stop the migratory habits of an apex preditor (humans)and ending with gender/idenity politics.  

What did I learn from RGB? 
See above.  
I can only hope there is someone as courageous as you to step into the vacancy ma'am. 

Filipin the Table

Trying to find words to write, needing to really go over the things I've already written and to find an editor for such nonsense.  

But again, it goes back to needing to pay an editor.  

Making art is a long and laborious process.  
Writing, for me, is easy...ish.
Writing something coherent is what takes the work.  

Listening to the words of the world. 
Seeing the movement of the wind.
Feeling the warmth of light.

Tasting the coldness of water. 


The grind is going back over those same words a million and a half times until they not only are coherent but are actually worth listening to.  

Yeah...I know.  
There is a difference between imparting information and creating something enjoyable...but hell.
Why not both? 

One of the things I'm looking at currently is how to protect artists looking for a medium to experiment with and creators receiving recognition for their work.   

Tik Tok as a service, regardless of data concerns on the security front, is a good model for those sorts of things.  Though some of the sounds are obviously coming from questionable sources, by and large it is fan appreciation and acting/cosplay exercises.

Acting v Cosplay

Acting is taking a role and embodying it to entertain.  

Cosplay, I would argue, is more an expression of idealism. 

An actor would say "I played this role and was paid for it."

A cosplayer would say
"I am a fan of this character or property and have invested money into it and this is my expression of my love" 


Anyways, just some random morning thoughts to get he fingers stretched before sending out some e-mails that actually require my coherence to respond to. 

Also...

...

I ain't got time for that.

 So here's the situation that I'm in. 
Roommates that seem to think it's okay to disrespect my work and sleep. 
Landlords that think it's okay to take my money and expect me to do chores for free.
And a goblin that thinks it's okay to come into my room when i'm gone or sleeping and damage my belongings and take things as they see fit.

To the roommates I don't like your dogs and think your cleanliness standard is to low for keeping pets, especially in such quantities.

To the Landlords your concerns are noted and as soon as i have a safe space to relocate the remainder of my belongings I will remove them and either paint the room or pay for the costs of paint and cleaning of the carpet.  If you feel I still owe you rent you are welcome to return the check that was in the exact amount of my bill contributions as well as the previous six months rent.  I stated my standard for leasing and those standards were not maintained and my professional and academic life were adversely affected by the physical health issues I had in regards to the cleanliness of the ventilation systems as well as choice of cleaning products used, sprayed on my food, and put into the ventilation system without prior warning.  

To the Goblin : if I catch you in the act you will come to bodily harm.

Now : Leave me be unless you are offering food or cuddles because I have a lot of goddamn editing to do and unless you're offering a clean, non pet, private bathroom room and a living wage to go with it then I'm not really interested.  

I don't trust strange food and I am not always comfortable with cuddles suddenly and will probably not cuddle long but will resume after a sufficient amount of mental recovery.

Training Day : Part 2

The footsteps came down the stairs, carefully.  
My partners entered my field of vision and I almost started crying.   

Not because I was happy to see them, but because I knew that I wouldn't be able to protect them.  

"What the hell are you doing here." I asked as the duct tape came off of my mouth.
"We decided we wouldn't let you face this alone.  

They let me loose and I gave them a very watered down version of what happened after they left.  
 

So, as the sun set, we waited.  

Sitting around the table.  
Even the drummmer, despite everything he still trusted and cared about me. 
Life is strange. 

The hour approached, we went about our prep work as we usually did before a D&D session.   

Making dinner, setting the table, starting the music.  
The Sureal normalacy of it only broken by painful breathing and slow movement on my part.  
The hour approched, the dealers arrived.   
They stood where I had been in taped to the chair and then one of them sat.  
We exchanged pleasentries, there was a dufflebag full of paper. 
I asked if they wore crocs with socks.  
The world exploded.  
A bullet tore through my back and right into my partners eye.  A look of confusion passed over their face as they eyed the injury in my chest.  
"Are you okay?" my partner asked. 
I locked eyes with them and put on my best reassuring smile.  
"I'm okay baby.  You know I love you right?"  
"Yes."
"I promise you I will stay with you for the rest of your life."
Blood trickled down their cheek as they smiled. 
"I think theres a fly on my face, it tickles."
"Just keep your hands on the table baby, the cavelry is coming and we don't want them to think we're hostile."
My partners eyes unfocused.
My jaw clenched. 
I flipped the table standing up and turned to face our attackers as I heard the sargent say "Did you see that shit?   Two with one shot."
I turned around and saw the sarges face. 
My friends face, and I coudn't tell him, he had never met my partners before.  
"I told you not to shoot me again ass hole."  
Then, rather than breaking down I turned my anger inward at the racisim and idiocy that had brought us to this moment and harnessed it.  

"Where's the bomb?"
"What fucking bomb?"
"The gooddan bomb we were sent to find."

"This ones still breathing but he's all fucked up" one of the squad said, another vomited on the floor. 

  
I dove to the floor next to him, i knew these people, knew them as humans, not just criminals. 
I dove over to him and laid on the floor next to him as he struggled to breath or move.  

"Just relax homey, I'm here, helps coming."  
The fear settled a little in his eyes as he focused on trying to take rattling breaths.   
"Hey fucking feds, am I right?" I said and the ghost of a smile flickered across bloody lips.  He started to try and move his head to look around.  "Just focus on me, you're fucked up man, if you move you might make it worse.  Wait for the doctors."
"His eyes flooded with tears."
""Hey, did you finish making that bomb?"
I asked thinking it was all bullshit." The barest of a nod." 
"Oh dude, I dind't think you had."  I put a comforting hand on his. "if you tell me where it is i'll  make sure you gets where it needs to go, even if I don't make it out of here there's back up coming."  

He relaxed a little and pointed to the crawlspace opening. I  held his hand, his body shook and his eyes rolled to the side.
I was yanked back to my feet by the Sargent.

"What the fuck was that, I thought you were on our side.?"

I turned on him.  
"I got the bombs location and gave him peace in his last moments ass hole, look at his finger."  
All eyes turned to the crawl space opening.
They pulled it out of the darkness and put the case.   
I turned to a couple of the soldiers and asked them to help me right the table they set the bomb in front of me.  
I looked at the case and checked for any visible traps.  I looked at the faces surrounding the table and we collectivly held our breath as I opened it. 

There was a timer, studied the wiring and held my hand out.  "Pliers."  
Small bits of panic crossed the assembleds faces.  "No one has pliers?  What about toenail clippers?"   
Head shook.
"You came looking for a bomb without a way to disarm it?  Are you kidding me?"
I took a breath.
"We have just over eight minutes, there are toe nail clippers on the sink in the bathroom, I was trimming my nails before the crazy happened today.   Get them."
"There was a mad dash up the stairs.  I tore my eyes off of the timer and refocused on the wiring looking for traps.  
It was simple, dirty, never meant to be found. 
To nail clippers entered my vision, I took them. Said another prayer and prayed that the circut was open  and not closed. 
I snipped the wire.

The bomb didn't explode.

I stopped the timer.

I stood up, the sarge giddy as a puppy

I looked at my partner face down on the floor.

I turned to the sarge refusing to let tears well in my eyes. 

He glanced at my partner.

"Who's the troll?"

I paused and slipped into the character I had been playing around the white men.

"A hooker the dealers brought. The surviving partner went for my throat. 

Soldiers took them upstairs.

"People pay money for hookers that look like that?."

I blew up. 

I screamed at him for fucking up my investigation and then rather than screaming him for shooting my lover I berated him for fucking up the sting operation and then went on a racist rant at his squad mates.  

He told them to keep an eye on me while he went and reported to his C.O..

I truned to the remaining squad set to watch. People of color save for one.

I apologized for the explosion.

Explained that I needed to scream and rant at the Sargent because the person on the floor was my wife and the person upstairs was my boyfriend.
All acknowledging of one another.   
That I was trying to track down the source for the drugs but ran into a wall of White Supremicist.  So it was fit in or get no where.  
I asked them not to tell the Sargent who the other people were until everything was settled. 

The sargent had done his job and done it well with the information he had and I didn't want him having that burden of guilt until after the dust had settled in case there was still work to do. 
I explained that none of them knew that much about me, that this was my home life, that they only saw the work side and that when their C.O. came in that they would see me in work mode and all I wanted was them to remain silent during the conversation.   that they could give their 

debriefings after I did.  

I had them set the bomb on the table infront of the "Gunslingers seat."  My usual seat when inviting new people or known unsafe people to the office.   
The C.O. came in and I turned to the Sargent.  
"You're going to be giving me 20 pushups when I stand up." 
The sarge looked at me and scoffed.
I asked that the C.O. dismiss everyong save for two of the soldiers I had screamed racial epitaphs at while trying to get the Sargent out of the room.  
The Sargent protested but the C.O. sent him upstairs.  

"Sir, you're in my chair."
I said after the C.O. had looked over the case and slid it to the side. 
"Is that a threat son?"
"No sir, a statement of fact.  When I'm working in this room that is my seat."
the C.O. nodded after a moment in understanding.
We knew each other.

I pointed at the case.

"I did my job."   
"Now it's my understanding that there is/was a bounty on some of these people.  I would like to collect it.  And once collected I want it to go the soldier who was hurt and their family. 
I pointed to one of the remaining soldiers.

"That one should be your second in command, they know seven different languages and put me on my toes in mental sparring matches.  I turned to the other remaining soldier.  That one you should be grooming as your replacement.  Not as some affirmative action bullshit, but because they acted professionally and never batted an eye during these whole proceedings.   

The Sargent is a good soldier, but needs a bit more discipline before leading a team again.
These two can debrief you, I'm going to head upstairs to the EMTs and face the consequences of today.  I'm not going far, but if you think I did the right thing take the bodies, treat them with respect.  Clear the furniture out to the garage and leave a mop and bucket with the proper cleaning supplies in the middle of the room, I'll clean up the blood since that represents the warmth and love that was lost today."

I went out to the EMT's and told them to have a non white doctor to treat me and to warn them that I would be belligerent and racist when they wheeled me in so that I could keep my cover and keep working.  

A few days later I woke up in my own bed.
I went down the basement and moped up the blood of my friends and then cleaned the house.   
I moved a chair and a t.v. down there and I mourned the loss.  I walked the streets at night screaming their names hoping that it had all been a bad dream but knowing in my heart that it hadn't been.  
After i pulled myself together I went back to work trying to track down the source of the drugs...

Training Day Part 1

 The day started off like any other. I woke up and took a shower.  I went down to the office to say hi to my partners.   Yes, partners, plural.   They think I don't know that they've been sleeping together but I do.   It doesn't bother me to much.  In truth I bought the house for him in hopes of starting a life together.  But that was not the what life had planned for us. 

As I went down the last few stairs I heard voices, more voices than there should have been. 

It was them.  

The two that I wasn't sure if they were cartel or undercover locals.
Either way we were both pinching the same drummer for their contacts. 
They, kindly offered me a seat. 
"So, wheres the money?"
I was confused .  "Um, what money?"
"For the discounts we've been giving you."  

I played dumb.  
I'm good at that.   

They were feeding me high end pot and where lacing it with other things to give it a little extra kick. That stuff was not cheep but they were selling it to me at "ditch weed" prices thinking that I would sling the shit for them.   I usually caught the laced stuff before it hit my lips, saying that it was a religious consideration that I would not partake anything but "natural supplements"  

Which, yes, the smoking of pot its self is a religious observance but the other stuff was what I was after on the professional side.  
 
"You owe us a lot of money."
"How much?"
They wrote a figure on a slip of paper.
"I don't have this, it'll take me awhile.  I might be able to take out a loan."
"You have 24 hours or we come back and we won 't be polite this time."
They left after shoving to many magic mushrooms to be safe down my throat."
My partners sighed, I eyed the drummer sideways.

"How much time before this kicks in?"
"20-30 minutes."   
"Alright, you guys have to get out of here, it's not safe for you and if anything happened to either of you I could never forgive myself." 

We head up to the kitchen, me explaining that I always knew and that it didn't matter.  

"Take my debit card, get as far away as you can and when you're safe go to a local gas station every day around 1 p.m. and use my card.  The F.B.I. is monitoring it and I"ll let them know what's up when they get here." 

There was stunned silence. 

"Do you have any weapons?" 
The three scattered while I looked up the local bases number to try and get someone on the horn and see if they had any interest in what was going on.
A few minutes later, after reporting in, they returned with a pistol and a military clay-more.  
"What the actual fuck?"

"I got it in a trade." The drummer said sheepishly.

I looked at the pistol. 
One bullet.  
"Um..."

"I haven't bought a new box since target practice" they said apologetically.  
I took the offered items and told them to get the hell out of here.  
A bullet whizzed through the back window.  

"Go, go, go" I said.  "Out the front, hands up in case it's the Bureau, I'll buy you some time. If it is the Bureau warn them that there's a clay-more at the side door, if it's not tell 'em to come downstairs. "  
I grabbed a frying pan as we went our separate directions. 
It wasn't much but I could hold it in front of my head to avoid being shot in the face.  
I dove down the stairs, set the clay more, and then took up position by the dryer.  

The side door exploded open.  

"Surrender and come out with your hands out now."
I thought I recognized the voice as one of the soldiers I'd been working with the past few months.
I saw a boot start to inch into the doorway, I fired my one bullet, the boot retreated. And then bullets flew through the opening.  I dove forward, frying pan in front of my face and slid under the stairs. I heard a ping and a fiery pain in my torso.    
I used my voice throwing skills to make it sound like I was still by the dryer. 

"Hey ass hole, is that you?"   I yelled.
"The fuck..." I heard softly.
"Yeah ass hole it's me, the fuck are you shooting at me for, and don't come in, it's not safe."

Boots sounded on the stairs, there was a click as the clay more tried to detonate.  I  dove out from under the stairs onto the soldier coming down them.  We landed in a tangle of limbs, but there was no explosion, or if there was i didn't hear it after the rifle fire had made my ears ring.  
The solder pulled their combat knife and I kicked back off of them.  
There was yelling from upstairs, the soldier was stunned but armed just as a phosphorus grenade came sailing through the open door to land at my feet.  I batted away...and towards the stunned soldier. 

His screams still wake me. 

I rolled him on the ground and put out the flames with a blanket then knocked him out with the frying pan to make him stop screaming.  

"Ass hole!  GEt your ass in here."  I yelled.

More gun fire, more burning.

"Motherfucker you man took that fucking grenade to the chest, get your ass down here and get your man some medical attention NOW!  I won't fucking shoot!"
  There was deliberation. 
I grabbed some duct tape and wrapped it around my mid section to keep as much of blood inside as I could then grabbed a button up shirt off the laundry to cover the tape.  There was a remote on the table and I had an idea. 

I grabbed the remote and held it in my hand like a detonator.  
Soldiers streamed into the cramped space.   
I recognized every single one of them. 
The one who's voice I knew, a friend, came at me hard with his rifle and shoving it in my face.   Without thought my hand shot up, grabbed the barrel and yanked, disarming and tripping him at the same time.  
Rifles snapping to shoulders got my attention and I went to a Marines Parade Rest immediately. 
The fact that they recognized me was the only thing that saved my life.

"Drop the rifle."
"I can't"
"Drop the goddamn rifle."
"I've already lost a lot of blood and I'm dizzy. Get your man to a medic!"
Someone checked his pulse.  
"He's still breathing, his heart beat is weak, but it's there...Jesus, what happened?"
I looked at the under slung launcher on the rifle propping me up and let it fall.
"He has phosphorus burns over most of his body and he's...missing his feet below the knees, possible fractured skull, I knocked him out so that the shock wouldn't kill him."

They took him out"


"Dumbass here brought the wrong ordinance to a house raid" I said dropping the rifle. 
They saw the tape, saw the remote in my hand.
The rifles snapped back up.
"What do we do sarge."

"Sargent, what are you doing in my home?"  I asked my friend
"The fuck did you just say?"
"When we're at the check points who's the supervisor?"
"You are" the Sargent said slight confusion on his face.
"And how many days a week are you there?"  the Sargent started to answer but I interrupted him "Three, from 2 to midnight."   I started pointing out each of the soldiers and giving details about each of them, their names, personal details, and their schedules." 
"How the hell do you know that?  I don't even know all of that."  The Sargent said. 
That's because I'm there for all of the shifts ass hole.  You guys get to go home, but by the time you show up for work I've usually already been there for about ten hours.  

"Supervising the checkpoints and clearing Air Marshals to fly.  Teaching you ass holes how to find bombs."  I took a breath and steadied myself as the vertigo set in. "Now can I sit down and tell you what the hell is going on."  I tossed the Sargent the remote.

I gave them my side, they gave me theirs. 

"I need patched up and I need you to keep an eye on me while I do it.  Then I'm going to sit in the shower for awhile while I trip balls and I need you to make sure I don't hurt myself and tell me funny shit so that I don't fall into a bad trip."  I said turning to the Sargent, someone I had come to view as a friend over the past few months.
 "When I come out of it feed me orange juice and a tall glass of water then put on a pot of coffee to brew and then strap me to a chair.  They're supposed to be here around 7, you guys come around 8.  I'll do a song and dance until you get here. Just don't shoot me again ass hole."

I remember sitting with the Sarge and bullshitting until the hallucinations came over me. He questioned me about what I was seeing and kept me from going anywhere dark.  After I re hydrated and drank a little coffee I went down and let them tape me to the chair. 
A little while later, way to early, I heard someone come in the front door....

To be continued. 

 

Jack

What's an everbody you ask?

Imagine that you are an actor or writer.

Imagine that when as you portray or write such a character you instill that character with parts of your self, be it a physical, mental, or imaginary.  

Sometimes the characters are portrayed so often or regularly that only those that see you regularly see the differences between the creation and the truth. 

Doesn't matter the work really. 

The best way I've ever seen it phrased is this....paraphrasing...

Terry : How did you know that the voices were outside influences?

Batman : They kept calling me "Bruce"

Like an athlete on a sports field what is it that your most trusted teammates and heated rivals call you?  

Out of all of those things, what of them do you call your self?

Now.

What if you were given the perfect pen name, cover name, and upbringing but no one knew your real name until it was said once in a musty basement?

Hi. 

I'm Jack.

You may have seen me.

Heard of me.

Heard me.

And a whole lot in between.

But at the end of the day you may not have met me.

I'm a writer and I do some stupid shit to be able and tell a good story.

I do a lot of fun shit to pay the bills.

And after spending the past few years of self evaluation and professional examination, then the past year sizing up the situation and competition I can say this. 

I think I'm the best man for for the job.

I can think of several women that would be better.

But since I am Jack, a masculine presenting former fem boy with trust issues and social anxiety.

I always have a plan.

Maybe not a good one.

But a plan.

I'm going to keep my hat on the table until the ballots are counted in the fall and see what shakes out.

Meanwhile I need to see about a stay at home job and someone to baby sit me while i nap. 

What is a Memmoran

When I was a young kid, trying desperately to figure out who I was and what was wrong with me I was introduced to Dungeons and Dragons from a friend.   Memmoran was the second character I created.  
 

2nd Edition Dungeons and Dragons
Elven Rogue

Insert generic Orphan Story

Alignment : Chaotic Neutral

Internal Motivations : Survival and Thumbing noses at nobles and corrupt authority figures. 
                                        "Ooo, Shiney"

Family : Wife - Location Unknown

 

On paper Memmoran was a generic, min maxed, second ed DPS that was all about that sneak attack.  But rather than playing him like a murder hobo, he was a thief and a jokester that used his deadly talents to entertain and protect the people that adopted him...and...you know, to go off on on wild adventures from time to time for the experience.   

Memmoran was exiled to wander the plains of existence taking jobs as directed by the books in the Library to avoid the death of he and his wife  

His body ever trying to crystallize and turn into a living statue if he takes to long in his tasks.  He takes hope and pushes on because breaking the curse means that he must survive.  Sometimes he waits, just a while, to see if his fingers still start to turn into gem stones.  

If they do, he knows that she is still safe and well and he continues his work.

Now adays, hes a drop in drop out npc that provides clues to players and assists when the DM needs a Deus Ex Machina.   

Living Home Less.

One of the interesting things I find about being, essentially, homeless. Is that the people that own property take little value in the small things.   You take the time to clean the microwave, clean the kitchen, let the dogs out to do their business and call them back when they start bothering the neighbors. I was paying 400 a month for quite and privacy and in exchange to access to the remainders of my library.  

When I made this agreement I was asked how I did around dogs.   I said, I was not a fan of living with dogs, or pets of any type for that matter, because of breathing problems and the amount of damage they do to electronics. 

I was only intending to stay three months, the owners stated six months, never provided a written agreement, which I've requested on multiple occasions.   

At some point during that time two things happened.   

1.  I lodged a complaint concerning the care of the dogs, their access to the room I was renting and urination on my belongings, including the clothing and bedding.  
  One of the dogs attempted to bite me when they were feeling playful, it was unsuccessful.  However, considering the neighbors also have children and animals of their own and the dogs are hostile towards these individuals I voiced concern over this but rather than remedying the situation another dog was brought into the home that was more invasive and aggressive than the other.   Not in a biting sort of way, but in a way of impediment and jumping into personal space.  

2. The Covid-19 events happened and we were quarantined.   I used my quarantine relief funds to purchase a items necessary for keeping as distanced as possible based on federal, state, and local, suggestion as well as pay back rent and bills after having hours cut at my place of employment. 

3. My tax return has been on hold and has made no response since being filed in...(February)?.    The anticipated return was to be used to cover the remaining balances on a closed account with the Power Company and the remainder of my school tuition balance and any remaining to pay for relocation costs. i.e. first and last months rent/deposits/moving vehicle  etc.   

4.  I rented a storage unit with a coworker to begin putting my things in storage in anticipation of becoming homeless when the terms of the verbal lease agreement were ended.  

5. I began inquiring at work, since the end of the fall school term of 2019, about pay rises/hours increases to accelerate my debt payments and reflect stable income for refinancing research and educational costs.

6. My life was/has been threatened several times in the intervening amount of time because of my refusal to be bullied into submission and wish to further my education/professional goals. 

7.  My initial wish to move and seek employment/schooling was in the Washington D.C. Area

8. I've been looking for a assistance to move for a year now with little to no viable responses that would not put me further into debt or increase the amount of overhead required to seek out such jobs. 

9.   When the pandemic struck I asked about staying until the end of the election to ensure that my ballot would not be withheld again.  

10.  Laundry, kitchen, and shared work facilities during my normal operating hours are and have been blocked by others laundry and dishes, which there was no agreement to do but it was either finish the laundry or take my things to the local public laundry.

11.  Writing and Sleep have been regularly interrupted by dog fighting, dog barking, and the shaking of the entire house structure by roommates. 

12. Keeping to myself is a bit of a professional requirement as well as a mental health requirement.   Sadly it makes creating meaningful connections difficult. 

13. "You don't pay enough..." is the argument that everyone makes.   
        Well, yeah, I'm not paid enough either. I contribute every way that I can. 

14. At the start I sit down and say "Hi, I'm odd, and if you've done your homework you know how odd."  If you haven't done your homework I apologize in advance but I'll do my best to explain.   Though I am getting a little tired of explaining all of the time.

15. I always state my desired rate.  However, in the world of the American Labor Market employees no longer seem to have that bargaining ability. And the ability to afford and have access to basic human necessities.   

....rant rant rant rant. 

Loosing my Mind.

Someone has literally been letting themselves into my space when I step out of my room and taking small things they think I won't notice.

I'm trying to get assistance of some sort in covering the costs of living.   

And I'm being actively harassed and my landlords/roommates are kicking me out becaue I refuse to clean up after them or their dogs.

Dogs, who up until I made it clear that the invasiveness and aggressive behavior was not to be tolerated in regards to my or my guests person, were allowed to dedicate and urinate in any place they saw fit.

Work at Walmart has been an overly hostile almost from day one and clients have been none existent since parting with kw...so there's that.

Now I'm on the job hunt again and trying to find a space that is not in an over crowded living situation before ending up completely homeless again.

I've been homeless a number of times in my life.  Largely because my trust in people on a personal leval is slim to none, and has been for years. 

I made the mistake of opening up not enough and then too much to late and now having stable relationships with anyone feels like a dream that belongs to someone else.

It's funny. 

I went in and filled out my paperwork at the unemployment office when I first got back and received nothing.

I tried applying at almost every employer accepting applications and walmart was the best and largely only offer.

Now,

I'm packing my belongings to be put in storage in anticipation of being homeless since. And as I'm constantly reminded by my employers, landlords, and romantic partners :

I am expendable.

I am easily replaceable.

My experience and effort are not worth a sustainable living wage.

Tomorrow I head down to see about a moving truck to dump my belongings in the garbage or storage depending on the mood I'm in. 

Because I tried to sell my belongings to recoup the costs of being homeless and hopefully afford a place for several months.  

 At the end of it... that's it. 

It's the end. 

There is no other side bo jack.