how to make a 7 sided dice out of a 6 sided dice -
by oliver "Haddo" mattson (c)2012

1  VALUE1
2  VALUE2
3  VALUE3

4  VALUE4

5  VALUE5
6  VALUE6
7  VALUE 7

ROLL  [ 1 - 6 ]
IF
 1 - 3 then

allow value 1 - 6

IF
4 - 6 then

allow values 2 - 7

the purpose of this is that when one rolls a dice, it is to obtain a random number, if we open the parameter of possibilities with a coinciding amount of values in a table or relative structure which, in effect becomes the seventh side, if looked at i n a weird way.

stop censorship

stop censorship

Dear Colonel;

I don't know if I'll be able to view the new film right off the bat for a few reasons.

1/ A - Low Funds.

2 / B - Recovery.  It will be 15 years since I began to seriously go down a dark path.  I emulated madmen, I tried to be "tough", I tried to be a "loadie", it didn't work.  I failed myself, my family, my possessions, my responsibilities, my dreams and goals and forfeited more than i can fathom.  I ruined friendships, and caused great harm.  I've broken every rule and threw away the warped morals and sensitivities that I had for a coarse lie that i perpetuated through the course of those wasted years.  My skull hurts.  I can feel the pain.  I am coming down from something about one thousand times stronger than methamphetamine and cocaine was pumping through my pathetic body.  My knuckles are finally popping and the feeling in my hands is returning.

I began to be violent, i am so very bad at that.  I hate violence.  I don't like football, even.  I am a bookworm.  I am a "nerd", not like those on "TV", or anything else, I may seem minimalist, and abstract and strange, but i warped myself and corrupted myself into a pit that i have no idea if i can, but i need to get out.  I like Role Playing Gmaes, but I do not get along with players.  I dislike online video games because I think that the code and story should be able to stand on its own.  i like function, not competition.  i don' compete well.  i do not play well with others.

The time that i spent trying to make people happy and throwing my self and everything i was and had away was far too long.


here are the things that i am wanting to work on-

1.  Zydes Franchise
2. inventions -
hyperfarming
iVend
MUTS
3. Book(s)

Ghost Stories (As I Remember Correctly - Stories, Poems, and Legends, of Horror, The Macabre, and Strange by A.D. Willoughby)

- 55 MPH Notes - Free / Finished
- Brainlick Drips free/ done



OF Heaven and of Hell.

They are real.

The Bible isn't just a thing about Jesus.  It's a guidebook for simple and safe living. 
The things about not coveting another man's woman and to be mellow and strong and safe are all good things.  I wish I never even got into partying and all the bullshit that went along with it.  I've lost and destroyed far far too much.   Gluttony is bad, drinking too much is bad.  All the stuff that they talk about in there is pretty on the ball and simple.  You don't even have to really be all the Christian to really dig it, you know.  If you go out and start fights with people when you're drunk, you will get your ass beat,  you will get your ass beat or killed.  Hell is real.  Hell is not working and being a clean and straight minded individual that people can trust and feel safe around.  Hell is being in skin that doesn't remember what has happened for years at a time.  Hell is looking back at the realization of wrong doing and feeling incredible guilt and sorrow.  Hell is being so high that one couldn't feel even the pain of a severe beating and not knowing when it happened or why for months at a time.  Hell is coming back from a bender and realizing that almost over two years of time, people have been stealing your posessions from your own home and bedroom while you were out bar-hopping and destroying yourself and blaming others.
Hell is losing friends, contact with family, access to places of Business and activity and respect from the community.  Hell is knowing full well that I've been chasing NOTHING BUT AN IMAGE ALL OF MY LIFE, IT SEEMS.  THE PICTURE OF EVIL,  REBELLION, DESTRUCTION.  I feel it was strong, it was strong in the wrong ways, it drew me in, it drew me in like a fish on a line.  I kept getting more and more and more drawn in and i fell off the side of the planet and I feel so bad about the things that I have down while in my altered states of mind that i find it ridiculous.  My once bright and young and shining eyes have gotten dull and strained from the whacks to my skull.  My vision is strained from the years of drink and debauchery.  I have lost.  I have lost.
My wish, when I was younger, was to write, and to act , and to perform music and do art.  I have done all those things.  I am NOT a GOOD ROCK SINGER.  The Image ATE ME ALIVE.  I was being exploited and I let demons into my very soul, heart, mind, and Body.  I corrupted myself so very much and I hurt the people I love and cared about very much.
I should have just stayed home and read my comic books, I should have just stayed home.  I wish I never ever did one line of Speed.  October 30, 1996...  15 years ago TONIGHT.  I've failed for 15 years.  FUCK GOING TO PARTIES.  I suck around people because i don't think like them, I think about computers all the time and video games and my game and my empire and the music I enjoy.   IM NOT A GOOD PUNK ROCKER.  NO EFFING WAY.  FUCK THAT SHIT.  DONE.  LET ME HAVE MY BOOKS AND MY DICE AND MY VIDEO GAMES!  LET ME HAVE WHAT I HAVE LEFT.  I LOVE CHERYL VERY MUCH.  SHE IS MY DARLING AND I DREAM ABOUT HER STILL WITH EVERY DRIP OF MY BRAIN. 

Heaven... what is heaven?

Heaven is spending quiet time at home with family.  Heaven is being Nice.  Heaven is having a nice reputation.  Heaven is being good to oneself.  Heaven is Not being mean.  Heaven is knowing that you are safe, with roof above one's head, food in stomach, and positives in ones head.  Heaven is feeling good about oneself without having to use drugs to do so.  Heaven is making the one you love smile.  Heaven is having good friends and doing good in life, without having to do drugs to be "cool".    COOL IS NOT REAL.  YOU CAN ONLY BE YOURSELF.  YOU CANNOT BE "COOL".  IT IS A FARCE.

Heaven is being strong in the face of difficulty and confident about challenges ahead,.

I will try to make sure, that if I have children, that they never get to low or hard on themselves, that they never ever do any powder drugs or shove anything up their noses.  Or pills and to not run around like I did and terrorize the town I once loved as a child.

I will TRY to teach them to not drink, and to not hide in bottles and hide in drugs.  it isn't right nd I did nothing but mess up my life for the last decade and a half.  I tried to be a badass, i tied to be cool.  It didn't work.  I hate what I've done and want to flip around my life./   The stuff I start is far far too much.  I did not mean to harm or terrorize the people of this planet at all.  My aim got lost, I suffered from depression and instead of asking for professional help, I medicated myself to a point that i don't know where the hell I was for the last two decades.

I have my mind, what's left of it.  I am not in jail.  I have my Mom.  I have what's left of my belongings.  I can breathe.  I can use my computer, I can play video games.  I can read.
I can sip a glass of water.  I can  pet the cats.  I can take a nap.  I can write.  I can eat a snack.  I can make a baked potato.  I can  make games.  I can smile.  I can make a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich.   I can make a cup of tea.  I can recite poetry.  I seriously dislike what I had to do to feel good about who I am, and that it's okay to be ME, finally.
I would rather cry, hide inside at home.
My knuckles are healing as well as my skull and the rest of my body.
I was an ass for far too long.


So, In closing.  Colonel Depp.  It is my honest wish that I see this film,, but, in my present state of mind I fear for the safety of the people of Earth, and must postpone said viewing of said film until relocated away from the vicinity of this City and away from any people living, dead, or otherwise  thinking beings or entities that I may do harm unto in whatever triggered state this film may or may not summon in my brain.


Best Wishes-

A. D. WIlloughby

eyes
-

A while back, Years ago, some of my friends used to run a Computer Store, they ran it for about seven years, all together.   I used to help with taking out the trash once in a while for pocket change when I was
 bored and take it to the local arcade.  One day, one of our close friends who worked in the shop and helped with the customers passed away from a heart attack.  Months went by before any of us went into the store, we were all very very sad, and very angry at the entire situation.  You see, he was very young, he had just turned twenty four.    About three months after our co-worker and friend passed, we had to close the
shop completely due to the overwhelming bills, and the fact that none of us could see spending a day
working there without him there with us.    We Closed all the customer accounts and the computers were
finished, delivered and set up.  Networks wrapped up, the Internet Service disconnected forever.  Receipts
organized, Taxes Finished up and closed.  Suppliers notified, goodbyes were said.  Papered the windows
with newsprint.  I spent the majority of the very last day, about 6 hours cleaning the walls of dirt,
breaking down the shelves and doing the windows.  Last trash barrels filled.  Last sweeping loaded from
dustpan in to waiting bags, to be taken to off and away forever.  Last bent paper clips and fast food
receipts tossed.  Last Vacuuming with the old old vacuum.  Last Carpet Sweeping the porch rugs.  Last
cleaning out the drawers.  Last ID'ing wires before final marking, packing, storage and disposal.
Co-workers, friends, and others said their  last "Check-Ya-Laters" and picked up gear left behind from
gaming nights. 


Just before taking the last trash bag out, I felt deeply sad, but I also took time to think about how nice of
a  time it was to have spent with him there, and feeling very glad and blessed by the forces in the world
that gave him to us.  I wiped the fresh drips of tears that had been falling onto my cheek off and on during
that day, and felt all of a sudden, that I had to go forward, from now on, no matter what.   Jut after that,
as I felt upset, and forcing myself to miove forward, I remember now something I blocked out of my
mind for years.  A pair of eyes, I saw them for about a quarter of a second, but it seemed as if a half a
minute went by.  The situation held my attention like a steel grip.  They popped out of thin air, black.

The position was in one that he sat at, and the height matched just about right, for someone of his height
to be sitting in the chair he sat in normally, at that exact spot.  They looked right at me, it felt as if they
were looking into not just my face, but my very being, my past, my thoughts, my future, perhaps.
Knowing full well that upset spirits can do some very serious damage, my brain broke free of the grip.
Maybe they were our friend's eyes, checking on us at the shop.  Maybe another entity acting in his behalf
was tricking us, though, too perhaps.


As moments collided with one another, my state was changed as Nick, the main Manager, walked
through  the back office into the front service area, where I was.   "You don't look too hot, man,
you look pale, You okay?", Nick said.

"Umm, I don't really know man, yeah, eyes right over there.", I said, gesturing to where his old chair was
parked.  "Okay, let's get outta here, man.", he said.  We both cleaned the rest of the mess and belongings
 out in about two to five minutes flat, moving quite quickly, shut out the lights and did a day end walk
through, saying Goodbye to the Shop and Business itself, saying "it was fun", before arming the security
system and bolting the doors up for the final time.
 Nick gave me a ride back to my house, where I cried for at least a week.  Before I got out of the car, 
I choked up and almost said see you in the morning, Nick and I told each other good night, and to be
strong, and he told me, "Hey man, you're not nuts... I saw them too."


-the end-

Not Here, Not Tonight- A Tale of Pie and Coffee

Not Here, Not Tonight-A Tale of Pie an Coffee

After the dust bowl  in the 1930s, a young man who wished nothing much more than to read books and write poetry was making his way West by helping with the things he was good at, like tidying houses, helping on the  Farms, setting tables, assisting with homework, and doing any thing he could, just for a spot to lay his sleeping bag, like a shed or a side house, park his typewriter, and perhaps grab a bite to eat for a day or two, before heading off to the next place.

One night, around or in Oklahoma, on the out-skirts of a small rainy muddy town, with some change in his pocket, he entered a coffee shop and put his last bit of change on the counter for a coffee and slice of apple pie before venturing into the evening’s icky weather, seeking shelter.   He sipped his coffee slowwwllly...  he ate the pie slowwwwwlllly as well, wrote in a journal, read the newspaper and a book from his bag and listened to the AM radio’s news and music fade in and out as gusts of rain and wind rushed by the tiny coffee shop.  “Another Slice of Pie, Sir?”, the attendant, who was about 15 asked.  “No thanks, said the writer, I don’t even know if i can get another coffee”, he said, spilling a few pennies on the table from his pockets and checking and double checking the rest, hurriedly.    “No Problem, sir, we’re closing soon, another pie and coffee are on the house, they would have been thrown out anyways, it’s no trouble, the Shop’s our Family’s”, the  attendant said.  “Thanks, SO much”, the writer said.  The attendant talked about the shop, and how his family owned it, during the time that he was finishing the cup of coffee, the writer explained that he had nowhere to stay and that he was weary of leaving and apologized for making the attendant lake as it was 5 minutes after closing.   The Attendant told the writer it was a good Five or so miles to the next town, on the main road which was a straight shot and easy to navigate, and he would be going up hill, mostly.  OR, Four miles on a back road that had more branches off of it than and old Oak tree or a lightning storm in October.  As a third option, the Attendant offered the use of an old study, and storage room just in the back yard of his grandparents house, where he was living with his family, except that there were spiders, and a bit of dust as it was rumored to be quite haunted, the Attendant didn’t even go in the room due to the atmosphere, and the fact that he thought he heard noises in the small off building.  In the blink of eye, the writer accepted the challenge with a grin from ear to ear, exclaiming how he feared no spirit at all, and how nice it would be to talk to a Ghost, and laughed at it all.  “You should not do that, Sir.”, the attendant said, shaking his head a bit and sounding frightened.  “You see, when you make fun of Ghosts, they can Get You, they can hit you, or steal from you or take you away into the place we can not see and you become one of them.”, he said, matter-of-factly.   “Fine, I’ll laugh when they do that to me, I accept your challenge, (he nodded at the attendant, grinning) Mind if I take the newspaper? I’d like some reading before turning in.” Said the writer.  “Yeah, Sure...  Man, I hope you know what you’re in for.”  said the attendant.  And with that The attendant began shutting down the Coffee Shop, and the writer gathered his things and finished his coffee, helping the attendant place chairs up and prepare for the next business day. The attendant thanked the writer as the Lights were shut off, locks were set, and Open Signs were flipped to “Sorry We’re Closed”.  They hurriedly got into the attendant’s car, trying to escape the storm that was still going strong.

Upon arrival at the attendants family residence, the writer began to let the stories that he heard earlier sink into his brains.

The darkness of the evening and the full moon’s eerie light occasionally peeking down from a crack in the clouds, combined with the grey exterior of the buildings on the site combined with the rain and the bad reception on the radio on the road there made the scene even more creepy.   
“Just to let you know, one of my Grand Uncles passed away in there, he was very sensitive, don’t curse or yell in there, or at him or anything, if you see his Ghost, especially, please.”,  the young attendant told his guest while handing him a canteen of water, to drink in the night and flashlight to help down the pathway.  The writer thanked him again, and the two said good night as they went off to sleep.

The writer got to the dusty room very quickly, as the chill of the weather ran through his bones in every step he took.

Upon entrance, the writer found a small fireplace, with kindling and some firewood, not enough for the night, but enough to keep the cold away before he went to sleep.  He lit  a small fire and the chill left the little room.  He took off his boots and socks to dry near the hearth grate,  on a large stone.  He read the newspaper, and made more notes in his journal.  About a couple of hours or so later...  the fire was out, the rooms was cozy, and the writer was nodding off.  As he lied down on the sofa near the windows, the writer listened to the wind rush by the building’s sides, and the rain go from heavy to soft, and then back to heavy again.

The embers in the tiny fireplace faded and faded and faded.  Soon, only the cloud covered sky, with sparsely flashing lightning, and what became almost a drumbeat, the rolling thunders, the rain and wind... were the sights and sounds of the night.  

Sleep started surprisingly smoothly, but was sometimes jarred at random, the thoughts of Ghosts jumping in and out of his dreams.  He closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to come again.  Wind making noise, the old building chilling again.  In one strong moment something told him to open his eyes.
He did.   There, down at the foot of the Sofa were two eyes looking right at him!   He Grabbed one of his shoes and threw it has hard as he could at the thing looking at him.  WHAM.  Something hit his foot.  He jumped up and ran as fast as he could up to the main house, barefoot.   He pounded on the door, the attendant answered the writer yelling for help.  “IT’S Haunted!, You were right.”, yelled the writer, “Come see, the eyes They looked at me from the foot of the Sofa, IT HIT MY FEET!”, ...  I don’t know what to do!”, said the writer in a frenzy.
“I need my things, my journal and my bag, my works are in there, can i stay on the covered porch of the main house?”, asked the writer.  “Of course, you can stay in the main room, fireplace is warm, no spooks there, hold on, I’ll, get my Boots and jacket, come out of the cold to dry off bit, i’ll get you some other shoes too, What size, nine, ten?", “Nine.", the writer replied.
With that, the two went into the dimly lit house, the wet visitor taking a moment to sit by a window in a porch room, and dry off his feet, face and hair with a towel provided by his host.  After a couple minutes of the young attendant going out of his way in so many ways, he arrived back from a walk on what seemed to be the second and third floors, opening drawers of dressers and shutting them quickly, opening closets and shutting them as well, he jogged downstairs, wearing jeans, boots and a raincoat, with another towel, some socks, and a pair of brown boots in very nice condition. 
“These’ll keep ya dry.”, the younger man said to the writer.  The cold and frightened visitor put them on  quickly as the night air began to chill his feet quite quickly.
Out they headed again, down the path to the side building.   The wind whipped around them as they shut the door and looked around for the travelers belongings.  “Too cold in here, let’s make this snappy.”, the writer said, both grabbing and bagging the writers things as fast as possible.  “How were you sleeping, I mean, Which way were you facing when you saw the Eyes, mister?”, the younger of the two asked.  “Right over there,”, he said as he pointed to the Eastern most window.  “Uncle is usually seen over here, the kid said, pointing to the Northwest corner of the room.   “AHA!”, the writer exclaimed, trying to analyze the situation scientifically.   “I must have seen the reflection of my toenails at the foot of the Sofa in the moonlight or under a flash of lightning and when I threw my shoe at it, it hit me, and i thought it was the Ghost.  HAH, How Foolish of me, to believe in such things.” said the writer.
And just as he bent down to grab the shoe he threw at what he thought was the Ghost, an invisible force grabbed it right out from under his fingers, as well as the other one, opened up the door, and threw them far up the pathway.  The two stood speechless for a moment.  “IS that all your Stuff, Mister?”, said the kid, “You Got it, let’s split.”, said the writer.  Both nodded their heads”, with  arms full, they made it up the pathway quite quickly.  Once inside the screened porch, they put the writers belongings in a pile, and latched the screen door while catching their breath.   The writer packed up and organized his journals and books and pencils and pens and put them into his ruck-sack while the wind picked up again.   “That was crazy.”,  the writer said.  “I don’t know if I can sleep, now”,  said the younger attendant, looking quite frightened.   “Nor I”, said the writer.
Over the next hour or two, in the kitchen, the two ate leftovers and listened to the radio’s poor reception fading in and out as the clouds passed above them, candles were lit, as the power had been occasionally dropping off and it going entirely flat out dark in the old house, so dark, that you could not even see a foot or two in front of your eyes.  They talked of the ghost in the study, they talked about local legends and then about life in general.  As the writer again began to droop off and begin to start to sleep, the thunder and lightning came rolling back through, Jarring the writer.  “Come on, you can sleep on the couch in the main room”.  Just before slumber, the two talked more, just a tad.  The writer told the young gentleman thanks very much, and where he could access the main road again, as the next town might have more work for him, and possibly might have to be up before Dawn to make it to the next job on time.  The young host gave the writer directions, and the writer wrote them down, bagged his notes, thanked his friend.   Good nights were once again said.  The writer, with assistance of a wind  up alarm clock, left the house before dawn, and dropped a thank you note on the table before leaving, stating that he would be back for his shoes.  

Months passed, the writer got out west, rented a room, and landed a job in the films, just like he said he wanted to.  He took a car ride with driver and everything out to the house to thank the Attendant for giving him shelter that night with all the weird things that went on, and to return his boots, if he was at home.

Upon arrival, the writer was shocked in less than a moment.  the house wasn’t there.  ONLY a foundation... looking at the yard... NO Side buildings... the truck of a surveyor stood next to that of a Real Estate company, in the area that would have been the screen porch.  “What Happened?...  Where’s the house and the Kid that lived here?!!”, the writer asked the Real Estate man standing next to the Surveyor sipping coffee from mugs on the front of their trucks.  “What do you mean, Kid that lived Here???, man, That house burnt down 20, 25 years ago, all the buildings on the property got burnt down.  everyone died, lightning storm knocked out a transformer, bad wiring.  Real sad.”  The two looked very sad and looked down at the ground.  All of a sudden a whirlwind of thoughts hit the writer at the same time.  In his lost state, he became speechless, and dizzy...  he walked around the property, where the living room was, he walked around in the space where the kitchen was, where he knew he was. 
He told the workmen sorry for any inconvenience, and headed toward the driveway. 

Just then on the ground, he noticed something, from the corner of his eye in the same spot, just like they had been thrown there by whatever it was that night, were his shoes.
He left them and ran, to the car, sped off,never to come back again.
THE END
-om- 10 - 6 - 2011

6 - 8

>>8204325
cont'd

After four or five years or so, the young man came into the shop in September once, to the shop guys surprise. This time bringing a truck load of Carving Pumpkins for Halloween. They were perfect, heavy, huge and wonderful sized. The guys again sat down, worked out a plan for the sale of the goods, and quickly signed a new contract. Hauled the gords out of the truck, sold them that fall, and made good money.

A couple years later...
he didn't come back late that may.
They called him, they tried letters.

Worried the kids wouldn't be able to get fireworks that year, and some of their best customers off to work, and college that fall, the men went to Atlanta to try to find the young man at the address given.

They saw the red car.

They knocked on the door.

No one answered.

They knocked again... no reply.

They found a small piece of paper in their truck and walked up to the door, to put it on the pushpin that sat by the door knocker.

Just then, a light turned on inside the house.

"WHO IS IT?", an older man yelled out.

"We're from the auto shop, we're here to see Luis", which was the young man's name.

"Auto Shop, AH... Come in guys, I have the keys for you, been waiting a long enough time."

"Here you go, just as he asked", he held up the keys and dropped them into one of the shop guys hands. I hope everything's gonna be okay."

"You gonna be able to drive?, or you want me to tow it out there?" the guy at the door asked.

"We'll manage", the guys said. The guy who opened up the door and gave them the keys shut the door and walked to a Black Cadillac, got in and drove away.

After returning to the Auto shop, the guys decided to look under the hood of such a nice car.


6/?

>>

hey derpomatic 07/19/11(Tue)13:05 No.8204759 >>8204559 cont'd The engine looked nice, most of the parts were stock, some were not familiar to them, but they knew they loved it. After shutting the hood and giving one another a high five, the decided to peek into the trunk. One more batch of fireworks perhaps. BANG! Sure enough it was. a huge box of everything inside. upon lifting it out, they noticed Luis' briefcase. "MAYBE there's money inside, who knows, this guy was maybe nuts to help us so much with all the stuff, and he gone and left us his car, what a weird kid.", one said matter-of-factly. "only one way to check". They pushed on the latch, and "POP", it opened right up. 7/?

>>

hey derpomatic 07/19/11(Tue)13:07 No.8204768 >>8204759 upon opening it they found a folder with the transaction notes for the fireworks and pumpkins, as well as some toy sales, and video game sales which were new at the time, as well as their contracts., and set them aside quickly to look for money. A couple dirty magazines and a music magazine. no money. a couple of audio cassettes and more receipts. no money. an old newspaper, some poems. no money. an envelope. AHA!! They opened it. A stack of 20 dollar bills about 240 dollars worth, and a note which read, "Dear Gentlemen, here, enjoy, thank you so much. For Everything, Lu." The two went out and partied in Luis's car that night like they were in High School again, raising hell and having a blast. The briefcase remained shut as far as I know. Life continued for the two, enjoying the shop and life, selling off the last fireworks from Lu, and generally feeling fine. Sad thing they didn't read the old newspaper. It was from about 10 years prior, in 74, it talked of a young man who accidentally killed a bunch of his friends while making fireworks, who then dismembered their bodies and put the body parts in a pumpkin patch, only to be found himself, beheaded in the same field. Oh, and the contracts... those were for their souls, signed, Billy and Steve - the shop guys. Co signed by Lu C. Ifer. The end. 8 of 8

4/5?

cont'd


They asked the young man how they could obtain such wonderful devices, and how money could be made.

The young man and shop guys went over the details over coffees. The young man explaining how the profits were made, and how much they could make if they did things in the right ways and at what times.

With May nearly over (change late 1978 to may 1978), the promise of fireworks for sale made the two very happy. The young man, after signing a contract with the two, walked off, jerry can in hand, headed towards his car, down the abandoned roads, with a jog in his step he waved and smiled in the fading light of the shop. Pepsi Sign still blinking, his flashlight, now fully lit, moving swift into the night.

Only a few minutes had passed when a car approached, it was bright red and beautiful. The tires looked brand new. The windows were dark. The young man got out of the car, opened the back door and walked towards the shop after grabbing their jerry can, and the first batch of fireworks.

After returning the can to its owners and thanking them for their assistance, and exchanging contact information, the young man gave them more instructions and headed off into the night.

The instructions were followed to the "T". The guys had enough money after that 4th of July to re open the shop. They made their payments and the young man helped them out every year for a few years. Every fireworks sale was a great success for the shop guys and the young man.

5/?

part 2 derp

>>8200784
illegal fireworks
cont'd

The gentleman returned with a steaming cup of black coffee and a pack of marlboros. Sat across from his friend, grabbed an ashtray and lit up. They heard footsteps, quick ones, jogging almost. At the far end of the northern entrance to the parking lot, which had not been used in so long there were weeds and trash as well as debris were scattered.

Some of the surrounding houses had been boarded up due to the need of families packing up and leaving that used to work for the station, and surrounding enterprises. The appearance of someone coming from that area made them quite awake. The flashlight's red front piece rim and headlight were fading quite fast, and blinking out, just like the Pepsi Cola sign. They also saw in the person's other hand, a red jerry can for gas, and a briefcase.

The person came up to the porch, upon noticing the closed sign, looked down and shook his head. "You open in the morning, then, what time?", he asked. The attendants told the gentleman , who looked in his early 20s, thin, wearing a grey suit jacket and blue jeans.


2/?

part 3
>>8200921
contd-

They told him that it was closed up, no bucks.  They could trade out the jerry can at twice the price, though, and they had batteries for the flashlight.

The traveler agreed and paid in cash for the jerry can of gas, a couple D batteries for the flash light, a pack of smokes from the left over stock and if they had one, a beer. The order was complete, the gentleman smacked on a cig and lit it on the porch as one of the shop guys went to a locked room to fetch the gas.

While the traveler cracked open his beer, the car guy coming out side asked him, where did you come from and what the heck are you doing here?  Nobody's out here, at all, man."  The shop guy said.  "I saw the lights on, the gas gauge is screwy on my car, it's a clunker, a real piece of work, you could say, as it died i saw an access lane back here and tried to get here before you closed up, but...  i'm so so sorry." The young man said, sheepishly, while snuffing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table on the porch.

"Not your fault man.", a shop guy said.  "we just kinda try to get by, we had a um, ... lemonade stand here, only got enough for beer if we're lucky on the weekends.  I'm here all the time, i used to sell TV's, record players and radios in the old auto repair building.  Sold Out, no more stock. 

The young man's eyes lit up.
"Well, i could maybe help you guys out, seein's how you did the same for me."

"what's the catch?" Asked the shop guy.

Not much, i just sell fireworks.  They call them illegal, but they ain't, they're just as safe as the other ones form the roadside, and it'll help you get some money together and maybe open up all the way."

The shop guy listening sounded interested.

"Hey, Here, want me to show ya?", the young man  asked energetically.

"GO Across The Street, Restaraunt's Parking Lot over there's okay, ain't had a car on that asphault in years."

"Far Out", the young man said, opening his briefcase, and grabbing some fireworks",

"be right back to talk business, enjoy the show."

the young man then walked across the street and lined up the fireworks on the pavement, and lit them all up, and quickly jogged back to the old gas station.

"CHECK IT OUT, MAN!", the young man yelled walking up to the shop guys, the light show just starting up behind him, spinning jumping sparkles and colors of flame lit up the abandoned parking lot, POPS, POWS and crackles filled their ears and smiles lit up all three's faces.

The show seemed to go on for minutes, far longer than regular fireworks, and they seemed just as normal if not better than the ones they were used to.

The shop guys were sold.

3 /?

-illegal fireworks-

-illegal fireworks-
in late 1978
about 18 miles + on the south of atlanta
GA, there was an auto shop in the middle of nowhere.

the auto shop closed up and due to financial struggle the former mechanics that still lived on site still decided to try to get money together to try to open the shop again.

The did everything from Lemonade stand sales yard sales sales to selling grass to the local kids at night after the days meager work was done.

After counting up the days' change, sipping on a Colt 45 in the sunset on the porch of the service station, with Pepsi-Cola neon sign blinking out on the PEP and LA at the end on occasion.  Bugs zapped by a zapper in the distance.  The metal screen door to the office with slightly worn springs clacked against the wood frame.

Another night.

The small PHILCO AM / FM radio's reception was good once in a while, allowing rock and roll and mowtown to slide into the night air.  They talked about cars, TV, sports, being broke.

From the corner of their eyes they saw something.
It looked like someone was coming from the back factory road, towards the station.  They swore they had saw the red outer casing light from a flashlight.
Then it faded away.

They both looked down the road.

Nothing there.

"You wanna walk down there with me with a flash light?"  one asked another.

"Nope", the other responded.

"I'm grabbing my smokes, you want anything?" The first said, heading into the office.

"Gimme a coffee and my pack by the desk."

-illegal fireworks-
in late 1978
about 18 miles + on the south of atlanta
GA, there was an auto shop in the middle of nowhere.

the auto shop closed up and due to financial struggle the former mechanics that still lived on site still decided to try to get money together to try to open the shop again.

The did everything from Lemonade stand sales yard sales sales to selling grass to the local kids at night after the days meager work was done.

After counting up the days' change, sipping on a Colt 45 in the sunset on the porch of the service station, with Pepsi-Cola neon sign blinking out on the PEP and LA at the end on occasion.  Bugs zapped by a zapper in the distance.  The metal screen door to the office with slightly worn springs clacked against the wood frame.

Another night.

The small PHILCO AM / FM radio's reception was good once in a while, allowing rock and roll and mowtown to slide into the night air.  They talked about cars, TV, sports, being broke.

From the corner of their eyes they saw something.
It looked like someone was coming from the back factory road, towards the station.  They swore they had saw the red outer casing light from a flashlight.
Then it faded away.

They both looked down the road.

Nothing there.

"You wanna walk down there with me with a flash light?"  one asked another.

"Nope", the other responded.

"I'm grabbing my smokes, you want anything?" The first said, heading into the office.

"Gimme a coffee and my pack by the desk."

as

= INTERNAL NOTE

MOST STORIES START OUT ...

ONCE UPON A TIME.

WELL,

THE TIME IS NOW.

THE PLACE...
IN DREAMS,
IMAGINATION
AND
OTHER WIERD PLACES.



ZYDES:
-BEGINNINGS-

-an abstract journey-

OBJECT OF THE SUB-SIMULATION-

get as much stuff as you can and live as long as you can.


IS THERE A PRINCESS:
Yeah, sure there’s Princesses, but they don’t need saving, at all.
They have the Princess Liberation Front.

Q: Is there Evil and Good? 
A:
What am I fighting against?
I dunno, confusion, madness... here you’re just trying to run around in an arena for a while. and survive, and go froward, just like in life, I guess.   Some of my friends like to collect the shiny thingz or glowy thingz, and colorful thingz.  Some like to try to advance their entity’s

Q:
What is the name of the thing there that just showed up?
A:
if they have they are

today 1 6 13 11

notes n thangs -

i want to get off creatively i don't like drowning myself
i can't be badass like the people that did the stufff i
am trying
to cover
trying to
cover
trying
to cover
trying to be like someone that im not that im not that im not
that
im not
that im not
is breaking me
and breaking me
and breaking
and i'll break the world if
i cant be

ME

6 hours ago · ·

• 
  
• • 

    Bob Rossa

    Whatever song you sing
    Whatever road you walk down
    Its your feet touching the dirt
    Its your lungs breathing in the air
    just now
    Mother Teresa singing Soul Kitchen
    Heavenly choirs singing Smells Like Teen Spirit

i luv ya tommorow but today yr all right now too

what can i get from this 1

hello today 6 9 2011 a

bye hard drugs, bye hangin w/ ppl i don't know and shouldn't be near.  bye trying to die like E.A. Poe, Bye all the shit I lost in all the robberies due to my toxic stupidity, Bye to the chicks who wouldn't tolerate it, bye to the good friends i've lost.  bye to being in certain places i can't go anymore.  bye to chasing images belonging to other people or fictional characters, bye not being me.  bye pure hatred for myself, bye whatever.
hello today.

flork

when i was about 14, i lived in a desolate place that had no record stores or outlets for people into punk and non normal music very much, aside from taking long trips, and finding  a rare jem in a bargain bin somewhere, thrift shops or coming to Ukiah to pick up tunes.
i liked heavy metal as much as the next person around, and we had no way to hear it thrown across the airwaves but to build a huge antenna.
the antenna wasn't that huge...  it only consisted of a few units, some attached by wire line and spanned from the mobile home to the outer shed.  the shed not only selved as storage, but also a hideout and secret place that myself and my comrades could go and play video games on dying color and black and white televisions that were scavenged from dumpsters, trash piles, or by trading various currencies, ie: cigarettes, drugs, booze, games, tapes, and other stuff.  The one antenna that went from the shed's feed lines were split so that the stereo in the shed and the house stereos could be fed by the signal.  the second antenna was just outside the eastmost window, i would isolate signal to get to the san francisoco stations using this one.  The one on the shed got to sacramento, and as far down as bakersfield.  One time  or two we picked up KLOS 95.5 from Los Angeles.
The third antenna was located inside my room and only went into one boom box.  it was from the 30s, and had two armatures.  one of the armatures didn't work that good, and had to have help via a clothespin to be able to get a good span.  It also had a fine tuning knob.  which, surprisingly, worked well.  as i panned my directions from a southern Santa Rosa station, i could go deep... and start finding pirate stations. 

and in the end

"OH I'd BET YOU'D LOOOVVVE TO PLAY A SHOW OR A PARTy, HUH, You fucking junkie pervert motherfucker",  the guitarist barked at me after i asked the group if we were even gonna ever play anything or if this was the Heavy Meatall thing and the Throw Olly under the Bus thing.  everyone turned their head.  and i could hear them gigle a little bit, snicker, and then work on yet another fucking metal thing.
i was being cut out.

"well" , thought to myself... 
"what to do, what to do???"

my literary agency wants me to live with my mom forever 'cause she thinks its okay, and i'm like young and all that, so... okay whatever.  Maybe i can stop slamming every damn substance into my body in the meantime, learn how to sleep... eat food again, remove myself from the reigns of ickyness.

Joni Mitchell was right, that jealous loving will make you crazy.

challenge one or five

this redundancy has riddn a foul course in my brain and body.
no longer do i wish to park my carcass at some old man bar and try to reason with them regarding early 80's punk rock and new wave bands and which residents album is best.  the point is beyond moot.


medication is nothing, of course this is a grabby hand issue regarding which demons are in control at the time, and who the fuck is driving.

BEEP ZAP ZOOM REV A 4 26 11

Beep! Zap! ZOOM!





Beep! Zap! ZOOM!

by Oliver Mattson

(c) 2011



The Day was Saturday, the

best day of the week, thought Ollie.

Dad was listening to two radios, watching television, and talking on

the CB radio and telephone, all at the same time.   It was a bit noisy.

Ollie came in and said, a little bit loud, so that Dad could hear him,

“Dad, Can We Go an Arcade?”, “Right ON!”, Dad responded.  He

quickly wrapped up his phone call, and they both headed to the

kitchen.

Dad opened up the cabinet way up high, and pulled down the coin

banks that thy had, especially for Arcade Visits.  He placed them

down on the kitchen table, and opened them up.

Ollie picked up his coins and
Dad did as well.  They both grinned thinking about changing them

into tokens, coins that allowed them to play games in special arcades,

games usually ran on Quarters in most other  places.

Dad gave Ollie extra money in the kitchen, because he was helping

more and reading more as well.  While Dad and Ollie talked about

what games they wanted to play, and where they wanted to go, Mom

came in from the back office, and turned off all the noise in the living

room.


“What are you two doing in here with all that noise in there on?”,

asked Mom.  “We’re talking about going to the Arcade!”, Ollie

exclaimed.  “Do you want to go, too?”, Dad asked.
“Nope, I’d just like to listen to one piece of music from one band right

now, have fun and be home before dinner, okay.", and headed

toward the record collection as Ollie and Dad waved See-You-Soon to

Mom, as they scooped up their play money and headed out the door.

When they arrived at the arcade, the sounds and noise of all the

games kind of scared Ollie at first, because they used to have them

up very loud, but once the music kicked on, which Ollie liked a lot, it

started feeling batter and even made the games look better, Totally

Awesome,  Ollie felt.


There was a large black machine that took dollar bills and coins and

changed them into tokens to play the games.  Dad popped the money

into the machine and the tokens dropped into the pick up scoop. 

(*tinka-tinka-tinka-tinka* - the sound of Four tokens dropping down)

The tokens looked like they were more shiny than gold.  Some Tokens

from some arcades used to have the things and characters from the

games.  Some had pictures of Mascots and  Mice, some had pictures

of Pizzas. Some Arcades had strangely shaped tokens that only their

machines would take.

It was very neat. The whole world was in love with video games, and

Arcades.  It was a brand new thing, and it was just wonderful.  The

arcade they went to was stocked with great games, and tons of

people.  Some playing, some watching and rooting for their friends

and fellow players. They also had what Dad liked to play the most: 

Pinball.

You see, Dad had been playing Pinball since he was Ollie’s age, and it

only costed a nickel at times.  And he played it well.  Ollie stood by

watching Dad play one machine for games on end only using one

token for what seemed like the longest time.  Rolling the scores over

and making the machine make a loud, LOUD *POP* when winning a

“Special”, or free game.  Ollie got upset that he wasn’t as good as 

Dad at games and told him about it.  Dad sat by Ollie and told his son,

“Ollie, it takes time, practice and patience to be good at, or even be

able to do Anything in life.  The only reason I’m any good at Pinball is

because I keep going, losing is part of life, you can not quit, you have

to continue to aim for the high score no matter what, and continue

on, even though you’ve lost, there’s always another game.  I'm no

good at those Video Games, right, but I keep trying, Beep! Zap!

Zoom!"

“Okay”, Ollie said, looking a little puzzled.
“Let’s find a game you LIKE,  and that you feel like you want to get

good at.  So they went around trying out all kinds of games.  First,

Ollie tried a few space games, *BEEP-TSSHHH, BOOP-TSSHHH, BEEP-

TSHHH, BOOP-TSSHHH, ZIINNNG ZIING ZIING BEEP*, he  didn’t know,

but he had a pretty good score.

Then they tried some maze games, *BLOOPA BLOOPA- BLOOPA-

BLOOPA -BEWEWEWWEWP-ZZZAPP*
But none truly made him feel good.

Then they tried out a couple of race car games, *VROOM-ZZZZOOM-

SCREE-THUMP-ZZZOOOM*.
Which...  *ZZOOOOM-SCREEE-CRASSSHH BEEEDOOBEEDOO GAME

OVER PLAYER ONE*, he was not good at at all.
They then went back to the pinball machine where Dad had gotten

those high scores, and replays, and Ollie listened as he watched his

Dad play, and his Dad taught him about Bumpers, and Flipppers, and

Scoring Points, and how to win that one game.  Ollie tried it.  After

listening to his Dad, he knew more about it, and quickly began to rack

up serious points on the machine before Game Over.

“Way to go, Ollie.” Dad said with a smile, see, practice and keeping

going are pretty cool, huh?”  “You bet.”, Said Ollie with a large smile. 

They played pinball a few more games before calling it a day and

deciding to head home.  On the way out the door of the arcade, Dad

pointed out to Ollie one more sign that trying works, the Space game,

which Ollie did well on, still held hi high score, even after at least six

people played it after him.  “Way to go, son, you’re good, see, just

keep trying.”

They arrived back just in time for Dinner, as they promised Mom, ate

and went to bed.
As Dad turned off the light in Ollie’s room, Ollie asked, “Dad, I’m

getting better, right?”.  Dad responded, “you bet, just keep trying like

today, Beep! Zap! Zoom!, Okay?”
“Right, Gotcha. Good night, Dad, I Love you”, “Love You Too, Son,

‘night”.  And with that, we end that day.



No matter what, he thought.  Those words, as simple then as they are

now had far more meaning to them.  They told him to keep going.  To

keep Learning, and Playing, and Doing.
No matter what happens.
Beep! Zap! ZOOM!



The End

beep zap zoom

Beep! Zap! ZOOM!





Beep! Zap! ZOOM!

by Oliver Mattson

(c) 2011



The Day was Saturday, the

best day of the week, thought Ollie.

Dad was listening to two radios, watching television, and talking on the CB radio and telephone, all at the same time.   It was a bit noisy.

Ollie came in and said, a little bit loud, so that Dad could hear him, “Dad, Can We Go an Arcade?”, “Right ON!”, Dad responded.  He quickly wrapped up his phone call, and they both headed to the kitchen.

Dad opened up the cabinet way up high, and pulled down the coin banks that thy had, especially for Arcade Visits.  He placed them down on the kitchen table, and opened them up.

Ollie picked up his coins and
Dad did as well.  They both grinned thinking about changing them into tokens, coins that allowed them to play games in special arcades, games usually ran on Quarters in most other  places.

Dad gave Ollie extra money in the kitchen, because he was helping more and reading more as well.  While Dad and Ollie talked about what games they wanted to play, and where they wanted to go, Mom came in from the back office, and turned off all the noise in the living room.

“What are you two doing in here with all that noise in there on?”, asked Mom.  “We’re talking about going to the Arcade!”, Ollie exclaimed.  “Do you want to go, too?”, Dad asked.
“Nope, I’d just like to listen to one piece of music from one band right now, have fun and be home before dinner, okay.", and headed toward the record collection as Ollie and Dad waved See-You-Soon to Mom, as they scooped up their play money and headed out the door.

When they arrived at the arcade, the sounds and noise of all the games kind of scared Ollie at first, because they used to have them up very loud, but once the music kicked on, which Ollie liked a lot, it started feeling batter and even made the games look better, Totally Awesome,  Ollie felt.


There was a large black machine that took dollar bills and coins and changed them into tokens to play the games.  Dad popped the money into the machine and the tokens dropped into the pick up scoop.  (*tinka-tinka-tinka-tinka* - the sound of Four tokens dropping down)

The tokens looked like they were more shiny than gold.  Some Tokens from some arcades used to have the things and characters from the games.  Some had pictures of Mascots and  Mice, some had pictures of Pizzas. Some Arcades had strangely shaped tokens that only their machines would take.

It was very neat. The whole world was in love with video games, and Arcades.  It was a brand new thing, and it was just wonderful.  The arcade they went to was stocked with great games, and tons of people.  Some playing, some watching and rooting for their friends and fellow players. They also had what Dad liked to play the most:  Pinball.

You see, Dad had been playing Pinball since he was Ollie’s age, and it only costed a nickel at times.  And he played it well.  Ollie stood by watching Dad play one machine for games on end only using one token for what seemed like the longest time.  Rolling the scores over and making the machine make a loud, LOUD *POP* when winning a “Special”, or free game.  Ollie got upset that he wasn’t as good as  Dad at games and told him about it.  Dad sat by Ollie and told his son, “Ollie, it takes time, practice and patience to be good at, or even be able to do Anything in life.  The only reason I’m any good at Pinball is because I keep going, losing is part of life, you can not quit, you have to continue to aim for the high score no matter what, and continue on, even though you’ve lost, there’s always another game.  I'm no good at those Video Games, right, but I keep trying, Beep! Zap! Zoom!"

“Okay”, Ollie said, looking a little puzzled.
“Let’s find a game you LIKE,  and that you feel like you want to get good at.  So they went around trying out all kinds of games.  First, Ollie tried a few space games, *BEEP-TSSHHH, BOOP-TSSHHH, BEEP-TSHHH, BOOP-TSSHHH, ZIINNNG ZIING ZIING BEEP*, he  didn’t know, but he had a pretty good score.

Then they tried some maze games, *BLOOPA BLOOPA- BLOOPA-BLOOPA -BEWEWEWWEWP-ZZZAPP*
But none truly made him feel good.

Then they tried out a couple of race car games, *VROOM-ZZZZOOM-SCREE-THUMP-ZZZOOOM*.
Which...  *ZZOOOOM-SCREEE-CRASSSHH BEEEDOOBEEDOO GAME OVER PLAYER ONE*, he was not good at at all.
They then went back to the pinball machine where Dad had gotten those high scores, and replays, and Ollie listened as he watched his Dad play, and his Dad taught him about Bumpers, and Flipppers, and Scoring Points, and how to win that one game.  Ollie tried it.  After listening to his Dad, he knew more about it, and quickly began to rack up serious points on the machine before Game Over.

“Way to go, Ollie.” Dad said with a smile, see, practice and keeping going are pretty cool, huh?”  “You bet.”, Said Ollie with a large smile.  They played pinball a few more games before calling it a day and deciding to head home.  On the way out the door of the arcade, Dad pointed out to Ollie one more sign that trying works, the Space game, which Ollie did well on, still held hi high score, even after at least six people played it after him.  “Way to go, son, you’re good, see, just keep trying.”

They arrived back just in time for Dinner, as they promised Mom, ate and went to bed.
As Dad turned off the light in Ollie’s room, Ollie asked, “Dad, I’m getting better, right?”.  Dad responded, “you bet, just keep trying like today, Beep! Zap! Zoom!, Okay?”
“Right, Gotcha. Good night, Dad, I Love you”, “Love You Too, Son, ‘night”.  And with that, we end that day.

That day was one that Ollie forgot about for a long long time.  You see, shortly after that, Ollie’s Dad passed away, and some bad things happened and a long long time passed, and Ollie forgot about some of those very special days that made him feel really really good.

One day, when Ollie was (sort of) grown up, (just older that’s all, he was still a little boy down inside, a bit lost), after he was feeling very very sad, and had not even felt like playing any games for a super long long time.
He was staring at the wall.  Something happened.
The memory of this day came back, strong, like  when you turn the faucet on in the tub full blast and it’s one of those noisy, loud, full of life, “Yep, I know THAT THERE is WATER!”, kind of situations.
An Energy pulsed through his brains and body.  It told him, to pick up a controller.  He Did.  It told him, to play.  He Did.  Beep! Zap! ZOOM!, He played.

Not with the worries of the day, about work, or money, or if he looked like he was doing right by the public, and making sure everyone was happy and comfortable.  Nope.  He played like a six year old boy genius, opening up old boxes and plugging in all sorts of games and systems to Televisions and Monitors and playing on the computer, even.

No matter what, he thought.  Those words, as simple then as they are now had far more meaning to them.  They told him to keep going.  To keep Learning, and Playing, and Doing.
No matter what happens.
Beep! Zap! ZOOM!

Publish Post

The End

the late 70's and early 80s hard rock that was once affectionately called punk

don't do stuff to satisfy the status quo, do what makes you happy right there in that moment.  let the good things  come to you.

Dinner was chicken and a burger, learning how to be okay, just in my skin, so 

 

im not distracted by external shit, no noise from people, no need to bounce

 

about from bumper to bumper like a pinball, no need to hop on the green beast,

 

in search of the unobtainable at the time being.  no need to hunt, no need to get

 

external power from people right now, no need for the pulse to match up  with

 

someone, lock eyes like black lazers and screw all night watching Fear and

 

Loathing and Felix the Cat, while listening to psychedlic rock and Aleister

 

Crowley on youtube.  

Let them come to me, force not thyne presence.

 

 Lucifer give me hope.

 

Jesus forgive me for my wants, jealousy, desires, greed, and sins.

poem ten thirteen o ten

it's here.

moving.

slow like the shadow of a cloud on an october day.

perpetual, yet variable,

no target until the target is hit.

chaos in its purest of forms.

yet filthy as "sin".

This is Why I'm Not, A note on the sexual pressures of media

OKAY, big media, we know you need to sell records, video time, film and magazines, as well as have a current attempt to exist in the realm of the new media and the internet.


We also know that the government cannot do a thing about the current structure unless drastic infrastructure changes occur.

1.  the Lobbyists Work for the Label

2.  The Lobbyists with the most money mean the most to the politicians.  thereby reducing the flow of allowed media presence to smaller media and alternative media entities and outlets who wish to compete in their own capacity, without having to either sell out or change to be accepeted my the mass media corporations and entities.

3,  A possibility   for these entities is a combination of ON TARGET brick and mortar ad campain and internet presence.


4.  Legalize Marijuana.
Opened minds force new art and different types of media, from all sources, mainstream, underground and other modes.

5. my knee hurts.

derderder

i was born in 76.  the 90's was the basic inside the box style thinking's period when it was supposed to all end.  No more Saturday Morning, no more Arcades.  The teenage years went and passed like a slow autumn day, one that one wishes to remember forever.  I wen from being 13 in January of 1990 to 14 in april....  I watched an industry build, and fall apart, went from 1,000 plus dollars a day sometimes to being on disability at present.  I used to be a programmer before web design got so damn simple.  This is, of course in the days of Amiga and alternate platforms that were graphics heavy and had mostly Graphical user Interfaces.  The goal of the people at Microsoft was to deal a blow directly to Apple and the origial Mac and Apple 2 userbase, as well as the userbases of the Amiga and Atari home computers in the United States

the fun is back.

Sad that:
My love of comics dissapated after time.
BUT:
I feel it creeping around the corner, ready to pop out at any second.
Sad that:
I spent too much time bitching about $#!T instead of doing it.
BUT:
Am glad I'm alive and have a chance to do the things that i enjoy and stopped putting em off. Yesterday and the day before i spent about 8 or 9 hours playing Dragon Warrior 3 and 4. Feels awesome. Starting 3 again. I like it, I like having a group ready to go. I have to read up more on this stuff. Toriyama's (hope i got that right) a genius.

MY LOVE and heart for role playing games is more or less getting back into simple get-out-and-do-it-style gaming, like Dragon Quest/ Dragon Warrior, where it's just get out and freaking grind, unlike in the new final Fantasies which is like a soap opera. I love the fact that after all that cloud of anger that I went through, that I can fire up that emu, and wow, actually get excited and enjoy myself. The Fun is back.

55mph notes (text version) /

55mph notes
OR:  A Primer or Daybook of a Mess -
OR:  Why Don't I read this Book:
BY OLIVER C. MATTSON

COPYRIGHT  2009

aka
Alexander Maxim


(legend:  --- page break)



Shattered Dreams can occur at the most random of moments, Habits tend to make these random moments occur at the most peculiar of times.

---

Always if possible, recruit a co pilot, or wing-person that has your best wishes in mind.

---

The person that you meet on the Internet may not be the same person you meet in real life.

---

Try hard to eat some food and be well rested and happy before going to a party, or  out to bars.  Jealousy can rear its ugly head at any moment when one isn't in the right head-space.

---

If you feel that you need to do something differently, in order to make your life better, find it yourself and go their with the direction that you put into it yourself, sometimes one needs to make one's own compass.

---

Read, Write, draw, sing, compose, perform, move, dance, Daydream.  Do something that makes you feel at peace with the earth and life and most of all, Yourself.

---

If people are hurting you, and you feel that you are being brought down by the whole world, remember, the next breath you take is a possible moment for YOURSELF, and that, even if you have to hide inside a fantasy world for just a few minutes, those are YOUR MINUTES, and no one at all can take them from you.

---

Watch a cartoon from when you were a kid.  Try to remember when the cartoons were over on Saturday Morning, and you had  no other worries, and you were either going out to play, or just sit a round and goof off.  Write a note to yourself about it.

---

Find places on the internet and in books, literature , film, that recapture the Awseomeness and Coolness of an old hobby, a favorite toy or game, and just simply enjoy it, at least minutes a week.

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Watch Pinnochio from Disney.  Jiminy Cricket's got a lot more upstairs now, as i look at it, after all the dumb stuff I've done.  Sometimes, he   seems like he's talking right at me.

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Like Art?  Make a picture.  Like to write?  Start writing.  I held back on writing and my music, and my artwork, and all those nights i spent on the barstools and all the beatings and hangovers I took, I could have had a shelf or ten full of books written by now.  The day, this one.  Is Yours.

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Make your own magic.  Don't fit on with others, can't find a coven to belong to??  Whatever you're into, If you're in a bit of a spot, try to center yourself and maybe make your own magic symbols and non harmful rituals to get over the "rut", life, like any game of cards, can deal strange, and from time to time terrible cards.

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It's all soup.
Mix and match things, in the privacy of your own head.  If you dream of Abe Lincoln and E.A. Poe riding on a starship with Mark Twain en route to a billiards tournament in the shadows of the dark side of Saturn, so be it.   What kind  of ship would it be?  (This is my idea, i used it as an example).  All things in life come and go, move around just like the stars in the sky.  We see different ones every night.  Some fall away.  Enjoy them when you can.

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If you don't really want to go to a show that your friends want you to go to, becasue you're scared something bad might happen, or your friends say that you shouldn't go to, DON'T GO TO THAT SHOW.  Gut instincts and first reactions are our body and the universe's way of telling us, WAIT UP.

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Some of us didn't make it.  Please be careful.

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Don't jump to and from things too quickly, unless you know to handle the rhythm, and know your own pace.

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DON'T Try being soemthing you're not.  I tried dealing drugs, tried being "smooth with the ladies", I tried being something I wasn't.  What did I get?  Nearly Dead.  Brain Damage, physical disability.  DON'T TRY BEING SOMETHING YOU'RE NOT, but also, try not to plasticize oneself and get yourself pinned as something like: Punk Rocker, Metal Head, Stoner, Drunk, Loser, dink, etc. etc.

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Don't fit in.  Just relax.

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Elevate your consciousness.  Read something that makes you feel better about yourself and makes you want to do more with your life.  Whther it be written by the Dahli Lhama, or it be Grover's Own Alphabet.

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Don't Lie.  Unless you know what the hell you're doing and or you're using it a survival tactic, if it keeps you alive and breathing, LIE AWAY.

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Don't break older relatives things.  You'll get less when they pass away.

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Blackouts Suck.

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Study words that make sense TO YOU.  NOT what's "hot", or whatever.

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FEEL.  If you can't feel.  Think.  If you can't think... Learn that you can't, or that you're not thinking correctly.

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The future is about self and outer awareness, In my opinion.  But then again, my thoughts haven't been all that right, as of late.  Pardon me.

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Nothing is as it seems, sometimes.  Then again, other times, things can be brutally real.

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Do you enjoy Holidays?  If not why?

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Get a support team.  For whatever it is that you're into.  If youmake artwork, have people look at and critique and talk about it.  Have A reading of some of your writngs or a listening exam get together if you do spoken word or if you're a musician.  Keeping creative juices flowing is from time to time, not only necessary, it can be the difference between life and death.

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DON'T OVERDO ANYTHING.  Change it up.  If you get stuck on a homework problem or in writers block up to your neck, save your work, burn it off, save it on your thumbdrive, do whatever.  Take a break. Watch a film, play a video or board game, watch something you really enjoy.  Or try something completely different.  If you're on a bender, watch your self.  Sleep, Eat Food, Drink Water, Coffee, etc.  If the reason why you're on said bender is a depression or loneliness issue, do something to change that.  Hop in a chat-room, watch a live stream of something.  Bitch about the news of the day in a blog or in a spiral notebook.  Pen and Paper are truly the best laptop sometimes.

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If you don't have someone to talk to in the middle of the night with if you're really depressed ad sad and every thing is icky icky bad, dig up or get a children's book that you enjoyed when you were little.  I never knew how much a nursery rhyme meant to me until I was real, real down.

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entry 30.  WOOHOO.

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CREATE.  EVEN if it takes you what seems like a long long time, but don't wait too long.  KNOW full well that books are made of chapters, chapters are made of paragraphs, paragraphs are made of words, words are made of letters.  One at a time.  Baby Steps.

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Sometimes it's hard to take advice.  Even from one's own self.

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Read Alice In Wonderland.

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Feel the rhythm of old poetry and prose, from before the year Two Thousand.  Feel the way the the ends of the sentences go in front of one another, like they were on a walk, or a jog.  Run through the letters.  Feel the words.  Listen inside.

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Write about anything, even if no one else is reading at all.  Get it out.  The words eat brains like feelings eat souls.  Keep the heart light, keep the mind free yet determined.  Stay Hungry.

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Know what you CAN DO, exploit yourself and your skill set, not your Antics.

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When you're down, don't go out trying to get better.  Get better first, THEN GO OUT.

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IF You're tired, take a nap, if you're hungry eat food, If you're thirsty, drink some water.  If you're antsy, exercise.  If you're horny, masturbate.  (not in public)

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Have one's head about one's shoulders.  You may not have a head if you do not.

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Read Washington Irving.

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Even if it's played out, in your circle, or you've just read it a few minutes ago, take time to enjoy The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, especially if it was a gray gray day and at about midnight you're bothered by a certain bird.

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Watch a sporting event.  Have no favoritism in the teams, just watch to see the process of the game ITSELF, and use that as meditation.  It's hard not to do other things, for me, though, when watching football, but it makes for great background noise as I type my butt off.

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TRY Learning CHESS.  I dare you.  Looks like moonspeak to me.

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I'M GOING FORWARD.  Ruts in road, rainy mud and snow behind me.  Sleet, sludge mucky yuck car wrecks, closed stores and lost cash.  Brain damage.  GOING FORWARD.  Good grades bad friends lying cheating bad trends.  Plasticide victim, but I'm still alive.  GOING FORWARD.

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LIKE FIRE.  Be a flaming arrow aiming at the bull's eye of your own absolute core goals.  All genres and lines of classification are meaningless now.  Nothing can be truly categorized, unless it's simply databased.  At that point it's been processed so that a machine can deal with it.  A machine.  Know that everything in life, good, bad, happy, sad, are parts of your life.  And your life is part of the Universe.  And your life, like the Universe, with dark and light, fire and ice,
IS VALID.

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PLAY PINBALL- EVEN IF IT'S ON YOUR iPhone.

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If you're feeling well enough, take a rain walk.  Or listen to an audio track of rain, and say you took a rain walk.


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Smoke Marijuana, have the munchies.  Enjoy a Cheech and Chong album and laugh like you were ten.

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Skinnydip.  Even if it's by yourself.  Even in your own tub at home or in a hotel room. Light some candles... SCRATCH THAT I suck with FIRE.  Light some safe, Environmetally friendly light device that provides you with a sense of self indulgence and or joy.  If you don't want to, or your house has no hot water, or you're just not in the mood, go back 2 pages re: "rain walks".

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If your spouse is cheating on you, and you're not leaving them, no matter how much of a lie you're living and how obvious it is, USE COMMON SENSE.  USE A CONDOM.  Just like the T-shirt Says, "You may think she's your gal, but she could be anybody's pal".  If I got it wrong, oopsie, oh well.

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Sunday afternoons used to be about watching old grainy monster movies and Horror flicks on local channels off the rabbit ears.  What Happened?

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If you're in a socio-economically isolated area and you don't fit in, and you're in your thirties....  FUCKING MOVE ALREADY.

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Never mess with the dead.

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Dress like your favorite Author, or musician, or whoever, in secret, alone.  Even if it's a pair of Raul Duke style sunglasses that make you feel like you're on your way to Vegas.

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EAT FOOD, DRINK WATER, REST AND EXERCISE.

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Love the self, to heck with the rest, If you're surviving, you've passed the test.

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What I said before about watching a sporting event.  Let me say this:  The amount of commercials, freaking beer ads and un-necessary commentary in this thing are starting to really chap my hide.

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I'd love to have random art galleries pop up  and music places pop up and places to show my writing pop up and do some stand up or spoken word or something.

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Feel.

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Listen.

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Relax

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Love.  If you can't love, even if you can't love yourself, Get MAD, but get mad enough to do something with that energy.  Don't just pitch it into the night air and hope for the best.  Nightmares happen that way.  Hideous crime and death can occur at those moments when we have no control. 

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Be at peace within the self and the boundaries of the self.  If there's fences, they're there for reasons.    Freedom Witin Boundaries.  The concept of "freedom within bounds", is common in some application(s) of technology, science fiction, and artificial intelligence as well as database management.

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Remember a commercial you liked, as well as one that made you say to yourself "WHAT were they Thinking????"

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GET OUT OF DODGE.  Mini-Escapism Works.

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Attract the right attraction.  Be careful.  Play not games that one does not understand.  Wants may be similar to those of others, but only each person can find what they are "looking for".  If one does not know what one is looking for, one should look inside, first.

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(my version of) The work world causes one to feel the pressures of Money, first, of operation and process and method next, and self fulfillment last.  If your job does more than that for you, feel blessed.

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stress can take one down, but it can also be turned into a reverse enery and soemthing we can work with, like using an opponents strength and energy to their disadvantage in martial arts.  Pick up techniques to help you in your future jobs and or projects at the place that you're at now.  Strategize.  Don't do anything that you might regret, BUT LEARN.

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Mind Expanding Chemicals can not only expand the brain, but also destroy the mind, deteriorate the soul and make life's dreams go to the wayside like a blast from a lazerbeam shooting through the core of the heart as big as the sun.  The self becomes more than one thing from time to time.  Not only can the self be the embodiment of mind, body and soul, but the self can also be a reactive beast barking at strange noises in the lonely house called reality.

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Count to ten.

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Be Careful, please.


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Best Wishes.  May your dreams come true.  May you be calm, may you have no worry, no regret, and no shame.  May your endeavors be fruitful and your hopes bright, may your travels be good.  May the challenges of life be those that you can deal with and may your mind wish to learn more so that you can deal with them better.  May the winds of success soar you to new Heights, and may the weight of defeat not drag you below the surface so low that you cannot bring the anchor up.  Let those dark times be temporary, learn that there are those in life that wish you harm, and also, that there is truly love.  In many forms is love.  Appreciation takes different shapes.  Look not a gift horse in it's mouth, Dark forests are hard to get through, but the pastures are so much greener on the other side.  The trick is not going in them to begin with.. Return not to the fields of regret.

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SHINE.


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end one-


Oliver C. Mattson