This is part of my ‘and here I fail again” series — An Explanation
This article is a part of my ‘and here I fail again’ series blog, where I’m engaged in art therapy and its probably my last chance at a job. The content I write is potentially shocking. Please be advised. My ‘Fail Again’ series is a series of rants intended to explore what I’m comfortable with; made available for your consumption because I need the money.
In a curious sense, I am writing this article while having a dawning realization that I need a means of keeping a blog series separated from my brand. The idea is not realized because I don’t as yet know if I’ll ever know what I intend. How very distracting a sidenote.
Have you ever considered a change in career? If you’re Micheal Jordan and at the top of your game, baseball may be a bad choice. But thats a choice. I don’t really have a choice. Just like WebMD tells me about schizophrenia, between the ages of 25 and 30 I experienced a major change with my brain condition. Strangely, what onset was the ability to be easy going; a conditional case that has burdened the youth of America for more than a century. I started experiencing auto-verbal auditory hallucinations (a compartment of my own, a term that I’ll own.) My experience was of hearing various absolutions repeated, mixed, and rationalized as I could only watch. I smoked some weed, accelerated the process, and when I was getting no more gains: did away with the substance that creates a non-attachment to my labors for days at a time. Fuck yea! Ras! Dread not the cess! Live not the cess! Jesus most high king of all things! Charity and dismiss!
Meth addiction itself is not funny. Please pray for the rasta.
I have to innovate a method to relax my way into active living; and while doing so I have to adjust my condition to have employment in a world that considers my long unemployed poopiebutt to be damaged goods. I have to equal my quality standards of living to a comparison with amounts required to have a cleaning service, a cook, a counselor: assisted living paid for out of pocket. I’d also like to sunset eating better food than bologna sandwiches. I think somewhere deep down, everyone does.
What if I told you that I think: if it would work for me, it would work for you?
Spread the Lay
Let me show you something I can do.
In matters of disturbances to the peace, it is important to make frictionless actions to create still waters, but if a con artist makes real hazards out of eventually-to-be adult people that mature adults have to navigate at peril: is it not sarcastic and truly not fraud to call them pedophile?
Thats that sensible shit that everybody likes.
I was very fortunate to have a background that taught me that entropy is something that societies could never stop, while having the sense I needed to not chase a cocaine or opioid high; but what am I supposed to do with all this sadness? I have an attitude very much like the creeping oncoming poverty and the emptiness inside of us all. If you would be the snark to note that the problem previously stated is my problem: yes I know. Thats the point. Thats what I’m writing for. I need to have a grasp on the purchase price of vantage. I know that; and that means I can’t get confused by trying to strain out my venoms. If I want to make the most out of myself as a writer, I need to train up until I become a charismatic leader saying nothing. I am Blandest Luther King, and I have a Dream Today! Fitness goals! I’m pursuing the purpose of being raw, uncut, and disheveled; perhaps cultivating in a joke here or there. Without the kind of shoulder support I need, I also need to clasp upon happiness. Who has the time? I don’t blame you; I just don’t have time to stop for you. I must stop for myself. As things stand, old wounds have not sealed so I’m gonna need a salve; because I’m in a dangerous place socio-psychologically. What would you do for a Klondike Bar? Terrorism. If you wanna plow this vestal virginal soil motherfucker, I’m gonna be the rock in your way; and I am the soil you apocalypse of squalor! Had one of those days recently? You can feel it for the moment, its ok; but I intend to grade your paper so do good work. [I lied.]
Gotta plow the virginal soil eventually; so you’ve gotta get out there. However if you want a seed to grow, you must allow the soil to furrow periodically. I also understand you have to burn the field, turn the ashes into the dirt, bury dead fishheads, cover the field in bio-compost, and cover that in dead leaves which must be watered three times daily until they stick down. It is alot o work. You’re worth it. Maybe its Maybelline.
What is an authors voice? Here I go on the course of failure, and I’m going to need to know. Pursuing professionalism in my authorial voice means sometimes planning a murder and being soft for why it happened. From the sound of things I already have that locked in, but I also need to empathize with everybody else. I need to be able to empathize with the rags to riches. I need to be able to empathize with my female antagonists. I must be able to intricate a conspiracy. I must have a new way of looking at my life.
…and I only have half of it built.
After I wrote my novel (but before my final round of copy editing two years later) I began compiling everything I remembered learning from science into a tabletop role playing game. Two hundred text documents and forty sheets later and I have the thoughts dumped for ‘The Business of Celebrity.’ Compiling the dump into a structurally sound game is difficult, and the technical writing intimidates me as much as other formalized technical reports; but that’s not my primary point. The point is that in creating this roleplaying game, I created a therapy course that I can follow without needing to depend on dead brain. I’m actually fairly happy with my work.
In recent months, I’ve been burning up my hours trying to thought-map virtual crutches to compensate for my inability to reach out mentally. How do I know I have an inability to reach out? The blue screen of death — Adam Sandler stunt with the stick between my roller-blades. At the time of writing, I recently dumped all of my work to start over; and will return one day if I do so by accident. This is going to be a slow road.
…and that’s the lay of things.
Simulate
I would be up during the late of the night, typing away at what I thought should go into my roleplaying game, and buzzing as my subconscious wired through my reflexes always showed me a single course of predictive outcomes. Bam! I hit a wall. Some break in my game system. Some disturbing way to cheat with my system. Some goofball ass thing that ended in a bad gameplay experience.
…and then, I quit making games and moved to the big city to be a professional stuffed bird.
Upon writing, I realized that what I’d gained in game design wasn’t enough for a perspective with any fluidity in what I can say. I can’t open a conversation. I live next door to my sister and brother-by-commons, and they’re actually likable. I can’t open a conversation! Fortunately, engaging art therapy liberated me into talking about this self engineered program. Suckas!
Its kind of a good plan: in this art therapy thing that I followed up on. I started out putting all the science stuff together, and I followed it up by by grooming and cultivating it into something kinda therapy. Its not a great plan, and I could have better plans; but its decent. It isn’t bad for a depend on myself.
I do however need to do more writing. I could feasibly say that Donald Trump was my best friend: I predicted that his trial by the federal senators of the United States of America would be uneventful in a joke. When short-selling, you first have to get the loan. The important thing though is that I learned that I could remember the jokes. I could repeat the jokes. The jokes were therapy. It was alive!
Before I leave this subject: On the subject of Donald Trump, will he get his returns? I say we build up America and make him lose out!
I don’t know how long I’ll be able to do this for, but while I build my next reasoning map with the fishbones on a spine of consumption personification: filtering my hot fire to make fairness should be able to sustain my need for output. Wish me luck: my next step is teaching myself how to be surprised. Emotional flatness!
Emulate
Its somewhat like poetry to say put your wrath, hate, perversion, and nasty in your pen, and to say write until the bloodletting in your pen has bled dry; as long as you’re asking if the weak get strong (like asking if the strong always know *cough* bubonic plague.) It really is arts therapy. Thank GOD for black people I am contractually obligated to say; if the social contract is tacit. I’d contribute to a radically ecological black presence being a influencer in the ‘to be done space,’ so saying that much seems like no sweat on my trouble.
When I engaged in Art Therapy, years ago when I was living in grant paid housing and my rent was paid already; years ago when I could afford the copay of my therapy because I had none; years ago when I was in art therapy, I was instructed to do what felt right expressively. I’m sure its a start. However my experience was to all too closely observe the blue screen of no more heroes that is schizo affective sadness. GOD DAMNIt Travis Touchdown, you are death walking.
Lets cover what I think would make a good tutorial level for adulthood. These are tutorial options I built into the roleplaying game. I don’t think the xp diluge will break the player experience, so it might work. Some testing would be nice.
Means toward learning
- If you attempt one, you should request to your GM when you have some downtime to give you an EXP roll for your efforts.
Speak your feelings until you have some experience; then do what you would do to learn.
A page full of jokes on a relatively in-game topic. 1 page, double spaced, single front.
An essay on one’s personal thoughts regarding a relatively in-game topic. 1 page, double spaced, single front.
An essay on where to find information regarding a relatively in-game topic. 1 page, double spaced, single front.
An essay on potential output options regarding a relatively in-game topic. 1 page, double spaced, single front.
Poetry that eschews description and relativity while immersing a reader in an experience.
Prose that experiences your comfort zone with your reader in a relatively in-game topic. 1 page, double spaced, single front.
A page of pre-development for blueprinting a commonly used option.
A page of blueprinting for a commonly used option.
A page of review regarding blueprinting of a commonly used option.
Choose secrets that are appropriate for ‘need to know’ confidentiality and therefore the last thought preferred.
I needed to review these anyhow. I’ve gotten to the point where my memory is only holding onto: what can pay the personified rent, when I can not pay the personified rent, and that hand to mouth feeling. Not being able to trigger my focus is actually killing me.
Titillate
So if I could titillate your mind: how much could you do with this? How much could you stock up if you did it?
Do you imagine you would actually like to be doing what I’m doing?
