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Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real

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Transition, Routine, Pondering

A cyclist death memorial, Emeryville. The bike is bleached white. Flowers, fresh ones, adorn the chain.

Two weeks crept by all but unnoticed, calm, flurrying, then calm again, like the cold hail that dropped sporadically during winter in the East Bay.

The screen was devoid of scent or sigil, showing no path for him to follow. Each keystroke left a trail like fingernail scrapings on a wall of ice, shallow and barren of all but the subtlest, most morbid import.

"Creature of habit, creature of habit, creature of habit," his monitor mind whispered. We can do anything, as long as that thing doesn't require too much consideration. Motivation dies at the end of a long day. You want to get something done, nail it into the middle of the routine, not the end or the beginning. As long as the objective is preceded by a task and followed by another one, it's easy. "It's the only way you're going to get anything done," he mused. His innards, hollow and twisting, gibbered wordlessly their misgivings. Another cog in the Machine. This is how they think, or rather, how they don't.

8:30 AM - Leave for work.
9:15 AM - Be at work.
1:15 PM - Grab a coffee, write for an hour.
2:15 PM - Be at work
6:15 PM - Leave
6:30 PM - Hit the gym.
7:30 PM - Head home.
8:30 PM - Arrive home. Feed the Machine. Decompress, cycle, compile.

It feels like a trap. Something internal recoils.

And yet, I grow stronger.


Name: Ken
Job Class: Associate Producer
Faction: Indie
Alignment: Neutral Good

Character points +1. (Wisdom)
You have learned: MS Visual Studio Conversation Tool.
+1 to all rolls involving Lore (Automated Flow Chart Logic).

Gym membership bonus: CON +1, +5 hp.
Smoker: CON -1.

AP Skills +20 points:
+10 % MS Excel
+5 % Perforce Software Manipulation
+5 % Design (Sound)

XP to next level: Fucked if I know.


Just finished reading the new King book, Cell, the premises of which can be summed thusly:

1) We have not yet seen the level of horrific mayhem that could result from organized use of instant communications technology with an intent to harm.
2) Underneath the socialized shells, the layers of learned behaviors, all the things we absorb into the spongy surfaces of our grey matter - under it all, the human creature is a single-minded and often gruesome entity.
3) There's always hope! (Just, not necessarily for YOU.)

In the two days it took me to finish it, the roommate's relationship with their cat went from "He's so adorable!" to "Cat, if you don't shut up right now, you're getting put up for adoption." I should give them more credit, actually, adoption isn't really on the table, but it's been a vicious shift, and I myself despite all efforts find that my sympathy for the little bugger ebbs when he insists on yowling constantly for hours in the wee, wee hours, falling silent as soon as you look at him, then starting again when your back is turned, resistant to all but my most massively patient and creative teaching efforts. Balancing care and attention with coddling and spoiling is a tough act; so is being strict when it's appropriate. Somewhere between 8 months and a year old, the little one's having some growing pains.

Yet, you don't take your FRIENDS to go get neutered when they talk too much. Do you? Maybe it depends on the friend.

It will happen soon enough, I know the health reasons and agree with them, and I know the difference between animals and humans. Usually. So don't speak on it. I'm just saying, philosophically speaking, the distinction bothers me. What is proper health care applied to one species becomes drastic mutilation when applied to another species. It seems unfair to me and I don't like it at a gut level.

Yet, at 3 AM when my sleep is shattered by a near-consistent repetetive spoiled wailing, when I emerge from the darkness with spray-bottle on full automatic yelling, "PUNY CREATURE, HULK SMASH!," and all of the high-falutin', caring, logical and enlightened pieces of me have fallen away, what's left is a bloody-minded, speciesist, survivalist little golem, intent on exterminating everything that isn't me.

Books, cats, work. Yeah, I'm Mr. Fucking Party. Pleased to meetcha.

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it's the proteins talkin' bra.

fuckin' invigoratin'

Re: it's the proteins talkin' bra.

A society built on protein logic would be a minimal, horrible, beautiful thing.

But I bet the 401k plans would suck.

Good god, Ken, your day sounds like mine.

P.S. The little gods that reside in the back of my head are cooking up something. Harass me if they don't cough up some product before the weekend ends.

I don't think I can actually harass you. See, last time I asked for feedback and brainstorming from the rat, I got two responses. The very first time, she said, "Shut up. Don't wanna talk about it." The second response, five minutes later, was, "We know what you're up to. You're sneaky, but don't think we don't know."

When I professed ignorance, she cut my head off with a non-regulation sized cleaver and locked it in a cabinet. Every hour or so she'd open the door and yell, "What did she tell you? Did she tell you anything? She'd better not have. We're working on stuff!" Then she'd shut the door again and go back to pacing. It was a bitch reacquiring and reattaching it, and now my left foot still goes numb whenever I lick the back of my teeth. Suffice it to say, I ain't asking any more questions. She might hear.

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