That’s a headline you will never, never and I mean
Ever
see in a news media stream or hellmouth exclusive. But, that’s the condition we’re in. In these days that have gone to the fucking dogs.
Holy fuck.
This shit has gone on a while. I took a break from giving a damn because nobody gives a damn anymore about living in reality. Clown world is everyone’s favorite devil mouse magic kingdom of the world so…
fuck it.
I might as well have a little fun, poke a little fun. The US of A and Western NATO countries have been supporting the Ukraine with Twitter posts, money and weapons and pretending….
“Na’aw son we ain’t beefing with you, Russia.”
“Mother fucka you supplying arms and money to the dude I’m in war with bitch this ain’t no candy land game.”
“I don’t care what you say Russia. My truth says I’m the good guy. I have a big dick and I ain’t trying to hurt nobody now give me some vodka.”
Holy shit. I can’t this shit seriously. Beta Bitch Biden is the fucking President of the United States of America.
The most trusted man in America. The most noble and strong man of the 21st century my dude. The Black folks kiss the fucking ground this bitch walks on and the Ukraine has already beaten mother Russia. Let me remind you.. The government was right about the VAX.
This shit is fucking comedy gold.
It’s just a matter of time before the Angel dust is cleared away from these fuckers Eyes. I feel it. Conflict is coming. Reality is making a axe kick comeback to these fuckers minds. Sweet Jesus.. Look at her don’t she look like a bad bitch…
The sexist slaves are the millionaire basketball artists who run up and down a court straining their bodies to the limit and accumulating a host of injuries for the entertainment of poor folks. Who in turn spend what little they have for the sense that it matters to their very being who wins or loses a single game.
This is not hate. This the reality. Basketball in general is one of the highest paying slave employeement systems in America and I’m not excluding the other sports. All sports in general serve serve as a business of performance art in motion.
Go with me down the rabbit hole of my American clown world experience. It all starts in the American (goverment) public school system.
We are not taught to be individuals who buy and trade and own our own businesses. We are taught by the structure of said system itself to be 20th century factory workers. I’m not saying anything new.
There is still a chain tying person to a system of control that predetermined that you work FOR money to get Stuff. To pay for stuff to buy more stuff to work for more money to leverage credit to buy more shit to pay for more shit to work for more money…etc. It’s a cycle. A endless cycle or wheel of bullshit.
So what’s the solution?
Learn a skill > become export in skill while working a sexy enslavement gig > market yourself as export over time > invest in yourself > become a business > make money > make money > make money > etc.
I worked hard to achieve steps to becoming a better writer. I didn’t start out with flavor or flow. I started with a goal and steps I took to achieving that goal were being a reader and writing habitual.
I fail a lot. But I don’t worry about failure being a stop gap to me achieving my goals. I look at failure as progress. You have to try. You have to make the attempt or you’ll get no where to achieving what you want to build.
I know when I’m not progressing because I’m not trying.
“Build a life. You don’t need a vacation from.” – Rob Hill Sr.
There are somethings in life you have to do. There are somethings that just have to get done when you don’t want to do them. But, is the sum total of life supposed to be this way?
Maybe.
Why would a dude. Do something he doesn’t want to do when he doesn’t want to do it? Well because there is a result that would follow afterward that is the result he wants.
Peace. Happiness. An end to bullshit situation. I’m thinking about this shit a lot lately because mainly I want to put myself in a situation eventually where I won’t have to think of a vacation.
I would be in a situation that was indicative of the kind of life I would enjoy with those same type of vacation vibes.
I’m still looking for that sweat spot of writing, work and the natural high of living.
Holy fucking shit. Some fucker paid this asshole to say he needed to put out a damn book about how sad we peasent folk should feel that he is a fucking Prince of Mother fucking country.
So I finished my first draft for November kiss. I’m not done by a long shot but I’ve finished my book. I got the cover, map and glossary done just a few more touches to do but I’m happy with the progress I’ve made and I will do once it’s done.
I’m aiming for a hundred sixty to two-hundred pages. I will improve my book as my next published book.
I am an artist to my core. Always have been always will be. Creating and crafting art gives me life. It adds joy and energy to me. But this isn’t the legacy entirely I want to leave behind.
I don’t fear death. I never have. I have my beliefs about it and an after life but in all honesty I really didn’t fear death even before I came to my own beliefs about it. I didn’t fully understand why that is until I started reading philosophy and really examining the weirdness of why I don’t fear dying.
Death isn’t something to fear at all. It’s like fearing the sun rising and setting and the end of this universe whinning down to nothing.
I fear. No. I HATE wasting time. I hate having to figure out to late I wasted a day on some bullshit I could have not done and I could have spent a day finishing writing a book, playing on my keyboard or shooting the shit with my brother or doing another shift at my day job.
I hate wasting time. I have a purpose. I know who I am and I know where I have been and I know my death is scheduled in my Callander in the mid to late century so I want to leave something behind before I go the way of my ancestors. Yes. I am an old fuck.
I like maps. I like knowing where I am going and having a reference point to go by to get where I need to be. That’s what I want my legacy to be. I want to be a map maker. A guy that gives advice, encouragement and wisdom to people that are where I was in life or help them avoid the traps I had to dig my way out of. I’m not about bring more bullshit into this fucking world.
I’m NOT an altruistic guy either. (Altruism is some bullshit too but I’ll save that for another post) I just know what it’s like having to figure my way out of shit and nobody giving a damn to teach me or knowing how to tell me where the fucking traps where ahead in life. Some people will take my advice or encouragement. Some people can tell me to go fuck myself. I’m cool either way.
I looked at the picture of the young couple that Miss Waters handed me in answer to my question. The man was Mr. Bruce Brent the murder victim but the girl in the picture I didn’t have a name for. She hadn’t been in any of the file history of Brent. She was a mystery and something else. I was interested now beyond surface level at this case. Not for anything sexual. It was because of what she was and what the murder victim was by the tint of earth of his eyes.
“Her name is Ellen Iceland. She’s behind all this I know she is. Fucking bitch ruined his life.”
“When did your cousin start dating her?” I asked Miss Waters.
Miss Waters stared at me. “Two months ago. She was his lab assistant at my brother’s factory. Bruce was never much of a ladies man. Always hopelessly into his studies or experiments with planets. He could have started his own company but he just loved the work and my brother gave him a big enough lab and space for him to work all he liked.”
I looked at the photo. This could all be a game this female was playing on me. “When did you realize there was something wrong about her?”
“He became a Earth elemental.” She said stiffly.
I knew what she was hinting but I had to push back. “The aliens effected our realm for decades with their experiments to push Cyberpunk out into the open. We’re all effected in some way. It’s just a matter of what could trigger a mutation out brack.”
Shena shook her head. “There is no history of elemental mutation in his gen pool or mean. We have no religious or loyalty to the aliens either.. I knew it had to be her. He started acting differently around me became less focused on his work and hanging out with me.”
Why was I allowing this stranger to pull me into an alien conflict I was trying hard to avoid. I preferred being neutral but I had know. “What happened the day of the murder?” I asked digging myself deeper into the shit.
“I-I tried to confront her with Bruce in the room. I hired a Fixer to get me information on her. He couldn’t find a single bit of information on her. She just appeared here two months ago. He gave me only two solutions. One she’s alien or two she’s some back water nomand elemental trash. I went with the nomand trash. Things didn’t….I just didn’t expect her to react the way she did or Bruce to get so angry at me.”
The idiot confronted the wrong person and she was still avoiding telling me the full truth. But, I already had an idea where this story was going. “So she showed what she was. How did Bruce end up dead?”
Miss Waters got that fish eyes far off stare. She was in the past now. Remembering the moment. “She…she laughed and then changed into one of them. The aliens. She’s a dragon. She was beautifully terrifying and majestic to look at and then she ordered Bruce to..to sacrifice me to her if he wanted to keep his immorality. I-I couldn’t believe it when he came at me and tried to to…I-I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t kill him. It wasn’t my intention. I just wanted him to stop.” She paused frozen.
I nodded. “Where did you get the blaster?”
“It was in Bruce’s bag. I took it and….wait. Wait a minute. I didn’t kill him. It wasn’t my intent.” She begged.
I nodded. “Agreed. It wasn’t a murder. It was something else.’
My world building started out with this muck up design of a world of mist and colorful character center piece one off stories. I didn’t intend from the jump to craft the world or knew entirely where I was going all I had was the characters and a need to just figure out where hell everything was.
I was learning as I was going forming the world by the prospectives of the charecters. The method remains so and carries on with one new addition into 2.0….
My characters old and new interactions with one another is demystifying the world. The lingo and the verbal exchanges are telling of the world they in habit. Now. It’s time to add a little noir into the mix.
Why? Well in general Noir is a element of cyberpunk fiction I have not dived into really adding to the flavor of my world only in parts. It will be a challenge and my pose will have to come up poetic and descriptive elegance but I enjoy the thought of the challenge and besides all that…it’s time to upgrade. Degradation is a modern art form I’m on a diet of currently.
I stepped out of my cruiser slipping on my suit jack in front of the authority officer in charge and several other officers outside the private condo residential building around her. What was her name? Damn it. I glanced at her name tag on her badge. Quinn. Officer Penny Quinn. I took in the scene and looked around at the others. “Officer Quinn. Sense your the acting officer in charge I would like to see my client please.”
Officer Quinn shook her head. “I was in charge until the judge arrived. You’ll have to speak to him about seeing her.” She said nodding to an officer on a huge black motorcycle cruiser.
I froze at the sight of Bran “The Judge” Rafe who was seated on his bike staring at me with his mirrored glasses on. “Your the rookie Authority taking over for Sam?”
I nodded. “I am Authority Dallas Page. Officer Rafe. I plan to insure my client’s rights are protected from a street judgement. She asked for an authority.”
The Judge shrugged and nodded to the apartment building. “She’s holed up in her place with a blaster to her chin when officer Quinn came.. She’s spooked won’t talk to us asked for an authority defense. If you can get her out we’ll take it from there?”
I stared at him. “Meaning you’ll take her to holding alive where she will stay until the case is investigated. I will find out if her plea for a defender is valid or she’s guilty.”
The Judge stared at me.
The hair on the back of my neck was standing up and my heart hammered against my chest. I gripped the B coin in my right pocket tightly. “Do you understand me Officer Rafe? It’s the standard rule I believe.”
The Judge nodded. “You being an authority should know as well with a witness and the murder weapon in the accused hand is a clear cut case. There’s no need to extend the hour on this Case or the amount of paper work we’ll have to do. That’s my judgement, Sir.”
Damn. That was pretty clear cut with a witness and the damn weapon. Still something was off. I stared at him. “Why didn’t you execute her then? What are you not telling me?”
The Judge frowned. “The witness was at the scene of the murder when it happened and we only have one witness. The lab boys are still going over the scene of the murder. It took place less then twenty-fours ago.”
Clear cut case my ass. This lazy mother fuckah didn’t want to be bothered doing the damn paper work.
“I over rule your judgement. Nothing is clear cut. I haven’t seen the interview with the witness or any other evidence.The final judgement is still up to King Fish and the high judges for the case. Officer Rafe. When I bring out the accused I need you and your officers to bring her to the station for holding. Are you capable of doing the job or do I need to hire out corporate security forces to handle the job?”
The Judge stared at me and then his face formed a slow wolfish grin. “Orders accepted. Final judgement is on you as is the paperwork.”
I nodded stiffly. I turned away from the jackass walking toward the apartment building door entrance.
“Hey, rookie your going to need a protective shielding. She’s also an elemental. I forgot to mention that. You still up for talking to her?” The Judge said. The others snorted in laughter at me.
I stiffened up my back and felt a change take hold of me. I turned and looked at him. The laughter around us stopped. No one moved. No one breathed. The stupid grin slipped off his face.
“I am Authority. You will address me as such mortal. Just….wait for me to come out with Miss Waters and do as I ordered.” I said. I kept the “or else” out of my words. What the fuck was wrong with me? I noticed that I could see my breathes in the summer night. Damn it. Ice element.
Officer Rafe nodded. “Copy that Authority. We’ll be waiting for you to bring the girl out.” He said respectfully.
I took several chilly breaths bringing my anger under control and turned back to the door and walked into the condo that smelled of earth and some other wild elemental inside.
All I have is the road ahead of me. The road behind is only an echo of a time that used to be the present.
I know a dirt nap is at the end of it so I know between now and then I better make the most of my life. In the very least I should play the game properly.
Yeah. Today I find myself introspective about choices that I make and the habits I want to create and old habits I want to take up again.
Old habit is creating more music and art. New habit is to slowly but surely become a weekly investor.
I don’t fear death. I never have.. I am afraid of wasting time doing things that have no meaning to me or add nothing positive to me or anyone else. There’s more then enough bullshit in life I see no point and have no desire to comsume more then my fair share or produce anything more to add to the shit hill.
Still. I find myself wasting time. A thing I hate the most. A thing I fear the most. So…I have but one way to go. I am at a point of no return. I have to push onward.
I’ll put some headphones on my head close my eyes to distractions and just keep walking listening to some self imposed affirmations….
I am an investor….in financial growth and a investor in my own art and self worth…..
I stared at nothing. It didn’t make sense to me. I had completed my Rite of Passage. I had made it back to where my people should be camped for my return trip.
It had been one hell of a two year journey from apprenticeship in under an Authority in the city back to the meet up spot where I had born from nothing. I had done what I needed to do and made it back with new clothes on my back, a job and a new crusier to return to nothing. No one.
I walked around the camping ground with a thought for what the fuck could have happened. No big wheel tire tracks or signs anyone had ever been here. I searched the sands and then I heard my cruiser’s on board communications decker going off. I had a job in the city.
I started running back to my cruiser only to trip over something buried in the sand. I turned back and frowned at the shiny object. I got down on my knees and dug it out. It was a black square chest. I opened it and found one Silver B coin inside. I held it in my hand. That was it. They folded and took to the four winds of the dream realm. I was alone. I got to my feet and let the coin drop from my hand to the sand.
Fuck em. They left me just one fucking B coin to start over with. The fucking losers expected me too take over. I didn’t need em or their fucking traditions or nomandic ways.. I would do alright on my own. I turned to head back to my ride. I made it only five steps before it got to me.
Damn it.
I ran back picked up the coin and hurried back to my ride. I jumped inside closing the door and hitting the starter button as I looked over at my on board screen and stared at my new client’s profile picture and the charge. Murder one?!
Days Gone Dogg 