After an evening spent being righteously annoyed with everything and everyone from friends to Google and sending emails to that effect, I experienced another powerful dream where I went to work for the government in a largely accepting environment which STILL tolerated only to denigrate and was unacceptable.
Went to work for pointy-haired boss.
Office star small blonde girl, insincere, would not share information with me but gave me face skin care product to put into poisoned chalice as mildly distasteful agent to punish people for drinking from it. Her brother, an extremely large man named Ramon, used an unfamiliar word in explaining why he felt his sister ought to be paid more and given more freedom; "Spinvesting", he wouldn't give an exact definition, gave me fashion advice, and face-fucked me in the bathroom near the sinks. I believe this was an explanation of the concept, almost an investment; but pulling out at the last moment to spin around and splash the wealth somewhere else.
My home was a small cell, one room, sink, bed, toilet down hall. Realised I would require at least a desk with a computer. After discovering this and attempting to make personal changes recommended, noticed employee wall with many negatively captioned photos of me from image search. I didn't mind this, the exposure is okay--I have flaws also, it is good for them to be exposed, because it helps people empathise with me and not think me infallibly perfect.
Confronted elder dragon PHB who revealed a soft unscaled snakelike form to me upon attempting to solve problem of his creation. One of his employees unknown to me had trashed $50 worth of produce of fishmongers to the ground in a failed haggle because he felt it was too expensive. PHB gave me worthless Lira in an attempt to make me and them go away. Broke his television, destroyed his office door, set fire to Lira to force him to listen to me. Told him he was misrepresenting his intentions and declining to fulfil his function, so I decided to for him.
Upon waking the dream continued. I assumed partial form, completed all tasks, modernised equipment. Carved "POISON CHALICE: DO NOT DRINK" into rim, walls, stem, and base of the Chalice, then surrounded it with a cylinder of thick smoked glass to act as a drainpipe. Hired office Star's brother's business to clean and repair roof and drainage system, redesigned toilets, hallway as bazaar, installed playroom and interest-based workstations throughout, managers office to open-plann lounge, steps to courtyard made safer and easier, more play and park equipment in courtyard for public use.
I recently made a profile on OKCupid. I got a message from someone saying "Your profile seems to say stay away!" and I replied saying "I'm actually friendly, but there are reasons it lights up this way."
In truth my profile says "Back the fuck up or get kicked in the crotch so hard you'll need your toothbrush to masturbate."
Why? Well, I mention that people who suffer cluster B need to search for softer targets, because I have been hurt and damaged by contact with cluster B in my past. For the psychologically inclined readers out there, you'll probably know the way cluster B personality disorders usually form is embryonically in children who spend time around parents or carers who already suffer cluster B personality disorders.
So saying "Stay away, cluster B!" is akin to saying "Stay away, I have, or have had too much contact with cluster B!"
Taking this a little further, people suffering these disorders are great at simulating normality, but their motives are impure. They will be hurtful without understanding why or how they are being hurtful. They will attempt to empathise with you after hurting you, and while it may be an extremely good-quality simulation of the emotion, it will not be actual empathy. These sufferers lack any real capacity for the good consideration of others, because they often lack both the natural or nurtured impulses to such consideration.
When they can no longer hurt you, they will discard you, because you no longer respond to them in a way which produces their desired effect. This occurs when you learn to either retaliate effectively, or accept all further punishments unquestioningly and without remorse or feedback from their affliction (or a combination of these). They will feel no remorse from your abandonment. In fact they will rationalise they have done you a favour by bettering you (by thickening your skin to the harsh realities of life as seen through the lens of cluster B).
Soon after parting, you will become far lesser in their eyes than you were when you were closer. As they focus their attentions on learning to control someone else's personality to continue the cycle, their knowledge of your will degrade from a systematic understanding of your values and motives, to a far sparser ruleset for governing your behaviour based upon benefiting them and degrading you.
Cluster B sufferers lack the capacity to care for others, although they may desperately want to out of a desire for acceptance from others. Which is why they continually spool unfortunates into their affairs, hurt them terribly, then feed off the negative emotion. Succumbing to an often nurtured desire to absorb and understand the nature of pain and suffering in the belief they can transcend it or sublime it into a more positive force. They fail to understand how this only compounds the misery caused by their faulty actions and attachment.
Have you ever woken up at 4:30AM, compelled to write down better fridge magnet slogans for tea and coffee than "Do stupid things faster, with more energy!" and found that one pretty hard to top? Must've been a 3AM effort is my guess, the ideas that come from that hour of the morning are usually of better quality than ones which arise closer to the sun itself.
I'll have a go anyway, although this is more a tea analogy, have you ever noticed that cups of tea in English-speaking cultures are peculiarly British? Even the question "Cup of tea?" sounds like a train rattling its way up towards some Scottish highland, or over towards Delhi or Bombay, chic-a-choc-chic-a-choc, cup-o-tea-cup-o-tea-cup-o-tea. Are we there yet? Cup-o-tea-cup-o-tea.
This is why I gave up drinking tea. I gave up drinking coffee because it's a ridiculous habitual stimulant but tea is so mild you forget the roots the plant itself drives into your very life. As James Marsters' character Spike said to Anthony Stuart Head's character Giles in Buffy: The Vampire Slayer "Did your life flash before your eyes? Cup of tea, cup of tea, ALMOST got shagged! Cup of tea?" Think about the hours of every day you spend making and drinking cups of tea. Remember, even without the time-wasting aspect, stimulants are generally BAD for you, even if you don't sugar it up and add milk so you can feel your mouth . Stephen Fry related on QI once the concept that tea-drinking made the ancient Chinese so self-satisfied with their perfection of teapot and cup technology they failed to advance beyond porcelain for about a thousand years. Really. I have my own internally self-consistent theories about what halted further advancement in ancient China and it has more to do with one half of a society deciding to waste most of its effort and waking hours systematically oppressing the other half. Often with newly-invented traditions so insanely barbaric they can only be rationalised as forms of 'ritual' abuse.
Back to tea, in the time I've spent writing this I could probably have made two cups of tea, but I'd still be contemplating the phrasing of the first sentence over the hot fuming tannin vapours. Sure, I know how to savour the world's finest Ceylon leaves, but if you do anything 5, 10, or 30 times per day there's hardly any point in stopping the endless repetition of the activity to smell the roses. About the only people who need to drink tea as many times per day as lots of people do are tea farmers--and that is because they either need to grade their own product, or they simply need to do something to distract them from the mind-numbing repetition of tea-farming itself. Which brings me to coffee.
Although I have at various times in my life been incredibly addicted (5-10 double espresso per day) to coffee, I believe it is essentially a silly activity. As a child, my parents used to load me up with coffee for breakfast before school. This is probably as ridiculous as it gets. Obviously they had little idea (or were woefully, wilfully ignorant) of the health detractions of giving your child coffee, or not making them eat breakfast. But who cares? They wanted to go to work, and I was an accidental inconvenience to them at the age of five to twenty-five.
In conclusion, I offer these tarnished gems to the world:
"Cup of tea? Or would you prefer a Salvador Dali melted clock?"
"Cup of coffee? Or would you prefer to just stop doing silly stuff?"
Perhaps we'll all switch to caffeine-free, artificially sweetened, non-carbonated, naturally-coloured, flavourless soft drinks. I've got a good brand name for these; "Why Bother?"
I also think that is a good name for decaf soy lattes with a twist of lemon.
One of the things I dislike about socialising is that it's essentially people saying "I like you," over and over again to each other. What's especially dishonest about the process is that as soon as you've left and gone home with people you really like, you'll take the opportunity to say "How I hate them!" as soon as the people you just finished an evening telling you liked are at home with their loved ones doing exactly the same thing. This doesn't make it okay, far from it in fact.
Every time you mistreat, scoff, or ignore when you could have helped, you show what you truly think of this world. I'm no exception, but for the fact that occasionally I write in here what's really going through my mind which is nothing other than "Kill... destroy... eviscerate... disintegrate... obliterate... perish!" and honestly, sometimes I mean it. If that bothers you, please leave your comments in the section below.
I've been a bit odd the last few days. I'm incredibly irritable, it's dangerous to participate in social networks when you feel like this; unless you've decided once and for all you're not actually depressed--just surrounded by jerks.
I'm feeling awkward about the purge of recent entries from here. I realise now it was a knee-jerk reaction to the responses I've gotten from real, actual, concerned people who probably read this output and have contacted me using other systems to invite my participation in activities which may hold hope of bringing me back to humanity or some other goals.
My feeling at the moment is that this will fail to achieve much, mostly because of my crummy state of mind, though I thank you for your concern and efforts. The truth is I wish to write my way through this to see if I can't channel the negative emotions I'm feeling into a creative work through which to transmute them into something positive. This is a difficult task, and I can't engage deeply enough with the activity if I'm under constant pressure to socialise.
I have remembered much of a great evil which was done to me in ancient times, something which still rings today, and it is time to put it to rest. This is a tale of powerful death magics best consigned to a past so long ago the customs of the time barely approach barbarism. NOBODY will enjoy this story, and even recording it fills me with good cause for trepidation.
A great jaded dragon, who was a paternal parent in a life I lived in this middle realm between heaven and the underworld, denied my sense of order. These were the times before Ma'at, and in a way were the reason for the colonisation of Egypt, never to return to the central lands of this planet. I was a son to him, and though I was older and from far further in the recesses of the past of this world I was made to pay respect far greater than what any reasonable parent would demand of their children, for this great jade dragon, came to this middle realm having mastered existence in the underworld. He was a familial cannibal, and all his offspring who failed to serve him were served to him in various regards. This was the threat which went against my order, and I refused to participate. I pointed out the entropic nature of this philosophy, that he rode a death reality, that eating your own young was fundamentally bad. The death magics of the time were advanced and once made mortal all humans inside society at the time had much to fear about what could be done to them, just as in Egypt in later times.
"Child, you think of my understandings as an animal's understanding. I shall treat you as I treat my animals!"
Though I proved my perspective to him he would not be swayed nor show mercy. He was as locked into his lifestyle as the lesser creatures he locked away, never to see the sun again and only to serve as less than slaves. It was with these animals I was cast and locked; to reconsider my opinion, without food, water, or sunlight. I starved, and survived from rarely identifiable scraps amidst the pig shit and dung of the other animals. Perhaps occasionally I availed myself of the occasional mushroom growing in the sty, for life exists even in death. I wailed, and tried to escape. Being a child of perhaps six or seven years of age, I could not go far before I was caught, bound, flogged, and brought before him again.
After being sharpened by my time of torture being treated as an animal, I was brought to him, stretched across a frame and tightly bound at all joints with leather thongs, emaciated muscles straining from repeated floggings which had broken all over my pale and pasty skin.
"Will you pay me the respect I am due?" he breathed into my ear, breath cloying with the aroma of sweet alcohols.
"No, father. You have given me no reason to make you deserving of my respect or love." I croaked through parched lips, cracked with screaming.
"Then you give me no reason to believe you are any child of mine. You are not my son!" the vaporous breath grew hotter, he drank briefly from a golden flask covered with the seal of his writhing, snakelike emblem.
"Then, if we are no longer father and son, perhaps we have an opportunity to be equals?" I raised my head and met his eyes in the first hope I had experienced in months.
"We are no longer related, because I say we are not. You will never be my equal, in this life, or any other! I shall make sure of that!"
"Please, let me go. I will leave if you desire to live this life without rancour towards you or any other." the first chance I had to plead.
"Bah! You are a shitty child! You treat your father with the disdain one would treat excrement! So I shall treat YOU as excrement!" enraged, he flew to the shelf arrayed with instruments and returned with a sharp knife. Swiftly and cruelly he pulled my penis and scrotum from my body and sliced it through with the knife, leaving the fleshy pieces upon the ground for the dogs to eat. Silencing my screams with several blows to my head which displaced more than a few teeth, he drew my tongue and severed it, finishing by burying the knife low between my ribs.
I came to, still bound on the rack, having had the wounds to my groin and chest bound. The knife was still there, a weight of metal in my chest, I could feel it when I took my first breath. I could not speak, for fear I would cough and spit blood. I felt like I would vomit, and fought the urge to do so while I looked around at the activity in the room. Many people, many buckets and bowls of liquids and bandages.
Slowly, and apologetically, the true evil was done by his servants and slaves. They soaked every bandage in piss and shit before beginning the funeral shroud. They built a fire and made me watch as what personal toys and effects I had known were cast into the blaze, and in their place the excrement of every animal they could find was packed between the layers of my stinking, soaked bindings.
It was not until two great jade slabs were brought in I began uncontrollably to cry. I kept my broken jaw closed tightly even though it was bound shut with the refulgent bandages. The slabs had depressions cut into both of them, the outline of a child's body without a head. I was laid, immobile into one of these depressions and the other tightly fitted about me. There was hushed talking, the upraised sounds of questioning and inquiry, closed shut as tightly as the iron bands encircling the jade blocks.
He returned, drunk and raging with cruel, evil purpose. "Nothing to say now, foolish child? Perhaps this will make you wail for mercy!" He took another pouring flask with a long curved spout, and poured a black, brackish and evil poison into my left ear. As the poison quickly altered my perceptions and I felt the quickening of my blood which would soon still, I moved my eyes to try meet his and tried to speak:
"Still, this is a good thing you do, for even unknowing actions will work to my purposes." My last words were probably never heard then, as he took the moment threw a bucket of almost liquid shit and piss in my face, beginning painful convulsions from the poison. I vomited into the bandages as a great clay bowl filled with cow manure was clapped over my head, and the whole assembly was moved to a cart pulled by a donkey out into the courtyard as an example to others. Perhaps they carved wood with pictographs indicating what had been done to me for displeasing the jaded dragonfather, and placed them in warning steps around the jade blocks.
I came to in darkness, filled with retching, terrifying agony as my heart pumped the poison throughout my body. Faster and faster, until it could do no more. As I died, I felt someone remove the bowl and scrape away the dried cow dung from my head. A long metal hook was used to reach between the bandages into the skull, removing the brain gobbet by gobbet, large metal spikes were driven into the ears then removed, as more partially liquified shit and urine was then poured and stuffed into the empty cavities of the head. The large clay manure bowl was replaced over the bandaged head, and since the stink of thiols was beginning to overpower the stench of shit, the entire apparatus was buried, enclosing the corpse in a standing position, arms outstretched, in the middle of the courtyard.
Long after the dragon was gone, and the people had forgotten, a peach tree was planted there. Driven down, by the light of our beloved star, seeking fertile soil and water, its roots broke the upturned clay bowl. Discovering untold riches largely preserved from decay and subterranean scavengers. I heralded the tree my saviour, even as it savoured me. Once enough of the remains had been absorbed into new life and fruit, I was again free.
In the ancient times, as in modern times, children of all ages can be foolish. Their practice of magic is far cruder today than in their own history, for they intentionally blind themselves--lest they perpetuate such atrocities again. Yet I have been here, long before then. I let it happen, had no other choice, for the family of dragons are my family. Descendants of mine from lives lived long before even their ancient origins. Good parents tolerate the mistakes of their children; demand their children take out any rage against life upon them, in preference to any other targets!
That is why, after such condemnation, I bade farewell to life for a time. Existence here was as it ever is, quite optional, and there are limits to all tolerance. I will walk among you, and I will be shown respect.