Excerpt from The Official History of Tomorrow’s Dream pages 87-89

June 22, 2012

NOTE: This is an excerpt from the book I wrote way back in January  2018 and published in May 2020.

Excerpt from The Official History of Tomorrow’s Dream page 87-89

How Jocko and his teamster pal Buck got over the scrap of indigo blow snort gavel, only a real scientist will tell. Examine them closely and you would never know they were table beef survivors. The tracking devices made them look cool and even lowered their temperatures but they were being watched. Every skip and jump over the sand dunes were known by Kaydick Industries.

“Jocko self serving through production of self right bbbbBuck?” Jocko asked with unquestionable certainty.

“Aww knock it off Jocks. We’ve been through this before. These feelings of inadequacy will pass. Drink this.”

Buck passed the chuckle juice to Jocko knowing it would calm him down and in turn calm them both down. Jocko took several swigs and starred into the several sunned blurry sky wishing he were still a civilian and not a runaway ex table beef. The Agency had no use for them but Kaydick Industries followed their moves for the fun of it more than any business matters at hand.

“Feel better now?” Buck asked.

“Yeah. I feel so inspired. Can I piggy back now?”

“You know you’re too heavy but if you need human contact I can ride you. Just remember last time I rode you. You tore a few stitches.”

“It’s ok. Ride me. Ride me.”

The temperature was rising near 1,046 degrees porfeos. Dry heat that humps your glands like a reptile. If you’ve ever been humped by a reptile then you know. They had no choice in a life situation like this but to keep moving. The other side of desert is the town of Gointhaw. They would be safe for a while there. One would think with a population of 456,890 they could get away and not be seen despite the high tech tracking system.

 

Meanwhile Ralph was helping me with my own problems. The center of my scrotum was unnerved during the last explosion. I needed Ralph’s strong hands to reach inside and “pull the strings” as the motthoppers called it in my day. Not sure of the proper medical procedure’s name. Ralph wasn’t medical. He was physical for sure. He stuck his hands right up in there, you see. And wiggled each finger one at a time until he saw my fantastic grin reaching each ear almost. Chagrin. Ouuuther.

“Thanks. I needed that.” I said.

“Uppers yup. For you I can do fritterpops. Wholesale style. Ya know.” Ralph said.

Now my only agenda was to take photo options for the Agency. They remote wired me for the mission. My brain would freeze as they send a signal telling me when to click the device resembling absolutely nothing like a camera or visual recording device. It was built into my forehead like a third eye yet invisible to the eye. It was under my skin yet the 3 kolopuy length and width lens could actually see from the far away Agency laboratory. The trigger/button was on the side of my nose and only about .006 Kintopuys. It looked like I was scratching my colossal sized honker.

It was a fairly simple routine besides the brain freeze but the Agency was cautious and paranoid so Ralph was by my side in case I ran into any trouble. In some countries and cultures scratching my nose and staring at someone would be considered rude or a primal way of saying “skitter over lipper”. Even an inactive agent like myself could get quite the head banging and artillery action for that. Ralph is there to break up any potential violence like that and multiple other types. He’s a good zoo, ya know, it’s fun to keep him around. He doesn’t need weapons. I told ya what those hands can do with my “problem”.


Life is Changing and Changing

November 14, 2010

Life is changing and changing. I heard that if your not changing and growing then you are dying. If you are a creative person and you are not creating then you are dying. The past few months have been different to say the least. The past few years have been unusually different to say the most. Some days I’m so focused on  my goals and dreams and other days I’m off the races in my mind and can’t function. I don’t know f I am growing but I am changing.

It seems like I keep waking up and everything that has happened in my life was a dream. Good dream and bad dream. One day I’m living in an apartment I can’t afford even though I had a job and I was whacked out on pain meds, psych meds and life in general the next day I’m clean and sober with less Psych meds living with my parents helping my sick father who eventually died. Then I’m in house with my mother and I lose my job but I have money in the bank and a little unemployment coming my way so it was comfortable.

I published not just one novel but three books within a moth. I felt great creatively and spiritually. I believe those are connected. Life is rolling along one day at a time. Then the pressure starts hitting me to think about a career. A job. Something. My mother and my friends think it’s time I go to work. I secretly disagreed.

What I thought was an epiphany turned out to be a fantasy and an unrealistic reality. I thought that I wanted ot get into Drug and Alcohol counseling. I talked to some people and researched half assedly. I found out I needed two years of recovery to get into the particular places I was looking for. I used it as an excuse not ot look for anything else.

I woke up one day and I am suddenly renting a house from a friend and out of my mom’s house. I still have no job and my savings are dwindling. No muney and more bills. I have a house mate. We started a business venture that may or may not pay off but we at least started it.

I went form no job plenty of money living with mom creating every day to sharing a house with a friend and business partner with no job and no money and less motivation to write and create. My energies are in the business. No income is expected for a while but I refuse to work. Sure I do a little part time work for an uncle but nothing serious.

My anxiety levels and agoraphobia keep me house ridden for days sometimes. I hate socializing. What happened to “good time Charlie” as an old friend once called me?

It seems I went from mr social guy to hermit overnight. It did take years. Some say it’s part of me growing up. Some say it’s my mental problems. Some say “get a job, ya bum”. Some say nothing at all. What can they say?

It’s not easy being human. I was going ot say me but I know everyone has problems. They just don’t wear them on their sleeves or like merit badges on their chest like I do sometimes.

I never thought that I’d be at a place in my life where I refused to look for a job. I’m not sure if it’s stubbornness, fear, my determination to succeed in other areas, or my mental illness and anxiety.

I went from having a job and lots of money living with my mother to no job, no money, paying rent etc. I keep waking up everyday in a different state of mind with a different focus and different awareness. I wonder who am I? Where am I going? What am I doing? Then I run away and hide in other thoughts that either thrill me or upset me fro the day.

The only thing I know is that tomorrow is another day. I never know what is around the corner and if I at least try at life I will feel a live. I hope. I always have hope.


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