Things of a thoughtful nature.

Pleeb is down.

So I can post this here, and wonder how many people are trying to view my regular journal and can’t.

I’m contemplating emotion-free physical relationships. Truth be told, I’ve had three attempts at such a thing.

One involved two meetings between myself and my best friend’s girlfriend. Of course, they had both been nagging me to sleep with her for four months, and I finally decided to try it when the nagging let up. We had a good time both times (though I was plenty nervous the first time), and were much more comfortable around each other the second. It was intended to be a one- or two-time thing, so no feelings were hurt when it didn’t happen again. Somehow, I think I expected to be closer to her. That never happened. I mean, we were physically closer, obviously. But emotionally and spiritually, nothing changed. I was disappointed in the fact that that kind of sharing could happen, and those kinds of walls could still exist.

I was saddened that sex could be so full in the moment, so physically gratifying, and the aftermath could be so cold.

The second involved a woman that was moving out of state. We had gotten together once before, and the only reason nothing much had happened was because I had forgotten protection, like a dunce. Anyway, when we finally did get together, I was very into the fact that this was just sex. This was a one-night encounter that would most likely never happen again, and that was how I wanted it. The spark that exists in women I fall for emotionally wasn’t in this woman. And then, as we were getting into it, she said “I want to date a Dave.” She wanted a relationship, and she was moving out of state. Ties. Emotions. This did not do wonders for my mood. She told me she had the best time that she had had in seven years. I didn’t get off.

I was frustrated that a moment entirely created for physical pleasure could be so completely obliterated by emotion.

The third… ahh, the third. The third lasted for months. Hell, I’m not sure that the third is over, as I have what seems to be an open invitation. However, this did not remain emotion-free. This is and has been a wonderful time of sensual and sexual pleasure. This has also been a time of stress, value evaluation, and strain. At one point, my emotions snuck up behind me and almost, almost pulled me into a situation that I was not ready for.

I was surprised at how easily I was able to disguise the fact that the situation I was in was bad for all involved.

Luckily, in my recent absence, those involved have dealt with many of the issues that turned that situation into a bad one. I am debating partaking in this physical relationship again soon. I almost feel like I’m running from a rejection to the safe bosom of a known partner.

Only, I haven’t been rejected. I’m not running to a place, because I cannot stay there. I am there to visit, and then, most likely, rarely.

Now to the current issue, I contemplate the possibility of adding another purely physical relationship to this list. This is a person I know that I could have emotion for. This is a person whom I began to develop emotion for. What I question is my ability to separate emotion from the situation. I have done it successfully in the past. When we decided to be friends, because I wanted a relationship, and she was not ready for that kind of commitment, she was saddened that I drew the line where I did physically. I’m contemplating moving that line. I wonder, can I separate enough to not mind her dating other people? Can I get physically involved again without getting emotionally involved? Can I be friends with benefits with her?

And better yet, why does this matter to me so greatly? Am I panicking, grasping for at least some level of connection with her?

There. Now it’s in words. I wonder if there’s an answer.

Addendum: It figures that as soon as I post, I get new tidbits of information that change everything.

Geek Test

I AM 55% GEEK.

Nerd, Freak, Geek, Dweeb. Sound familiar?
That’s okay, cause I will be the richest
person at my 15th year high-school reunion.
If a “con” isn’t happening that weekend.

Take the Geek Test at Fuali.com!

Yoinked from . I’m more geek than that… It’s all about the social hack jobs, damnit. Plus, I don’t make mad loot, and I’m pretty cool. Stupid poopin’ tests.

*PLONK*

There’s a tradition among USENET subscribers. When someone posts a stupid enough post to a newsgroup, they earn the right to be put on a blocking list. The sound of something metallic dropping into a trash can is used then for sound effects. The silly thing is… half the time, the users that are blocked assume it’s someone else being blocked.

*PLONK*

[Carnival] Meat, part 2

Duh.

I had missed it for so long. God damn duh. I wasn’t whatever Celestine was. I was close, but there was still that difference. The details. The time sense. The doubles. G.A. vs. Celestine. Big Dav vs. The TicketMastyr. Me vs. Him. I was furiously writing with that damn gel pen in that damn dragon book that Ani had gotten me. Dreamer vs. Dreamed. God damn duh.

I finished, and smiled as I looked over the few pages of scrawling about a Carnival, and someone entering with a normal ticket. I looked over the description, and couldn’t help but appreciate how fast those gel pens dry. Being left handed, it was important, so that I didn’t smear what I wrote, and get ink or graphite all over my hand. I looked down in front of me as I closed the book, and recognized the boots. The black pants. The leather trench coat, with bits of armor interwoven in it. I let my eyes trail up, noticing the details. He was a bit thinner than me, but not by much. His goatee was a bit more dark, his hair was a bit more light. His eyes were just as mesmerizing. There was a bulge under his trench coat at his hip. I knew what he carried there. He is hair was still loose and wild, and longer than mine. He had a wide-brimmed hat that I did not. He had the same pendant I did hanging around his neck. He was harder, more edged than he used to be, but then again, he wasn’t whole back then. He was just an aspect. Now, he was whole.

“You’ve changed.” It had been so long since I’d seen him.

“Of course. Even I am effected by time, as you are.” He flashed that grin, that big-ass grin that made his eyes sparkle. One of those grins where no matter how pissed or depressed you are, you smile back, and feel it down to your toes. I reached out my hand, which he took and shook firmly. He registered mild surprise when he took his hand away. “You’re giving me this?” He held up my Golden Ticket.

“Of course. It’s yours, you retard. It’s not mine. Give me the ticket I’m supposed to have.” He held out the normal ticket to me, and burst out in what only could be called a guffaw. I grinned back at him, and for a second, I couldn’t figure out who was who. I guess there wasn’t really much difference at that point. I took the normal ticket in my hands and tore it in half. I walked out the front entrance, grinning over another puzzle solved.

Dragon Weaver looked over the Golden Ticket. Where next? Well, the biggest show is always the best starting point for a puzzle. To the Big Top, then. Hopefully people would figure it out, about the Dreams and the Dreamers, before it was too late. Oh, well. If not, there was always the ticket-tearing method.

He patted the war hammer at his hip, and grimly hoped he didn’t have to use it.

[Carnival] Decisions.

I startled awake, after once more drifting off on the steps of Dr. Celestine’s trailer. I couldn’t keep doing this. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. The Time felt right, but the Place was wrong.

I took the torn pieces of G.A.’s Golden Ticket and pressed them against Dr. Celestine’s door. I was no longer surprised that a small metallic webbing sprouted to hold the Ticket pieces in place. Maybe the good Doctor would understand why I was here now.

I had just had a dream. You know the kind that just hover on the side of your memory? I had dismantled a giant model I had made of the Carnival. I had come to a grim realization that this place was destroying me. The me that I was in the dream. Or, maybe this was the dream. It didn’t really matter. I had to do the best for whatever me was awake at the moment. I had apologized to my roommates and decided to turn my life around, in that dream. I have decided to take similar control of my own situation here at the Carnival.

I had already gone to the Divine Gallery, before my ticket had started glowing pink. I had already visited the Acrobat. Mr. James’ booth had been closed for the majority of their time here in Caro. This morning, The Games of Skill were also closed. So much for those. That left the Hall of Mirrors, the Wax Museum, The Fortune Teller, the Freak Show, and the Big Top. I couldn’t remember when the next Big Top show was.

Best option seemed to go to the Big Top and find the time of the next show, then head to the Hall of Mirrors if I had the time. So I stretched my legs and strolled over to the Big Top.

[Carnival] Welcome (back).

G.A. was using a hose near the animal stalls to clean off his face. Either the “partner” had done his homework or he had just got lucky. G.A. has said before that he would stand in the sun and watch his skin bake and burn to dust before he’d wear sunscreen. Especially on his face. It was just a “thing” he had about it. No sticky stuff on the face. G.A. was remembering as he was washing….

***********************************************

Have you ever been in a dream, and then just SLID into a different character? Different scene? Different dream altogether? Yeah, me too. G.A. as well. He could feel those blood vessels bursting in his eyes. He could feel his heart trying to tear itself into about five distinct pieces. He could see the blood that he was coughing up. Yeah, G.A. knew he was dying. He had risked it all on Dr. Celestine not being real, on being a figment of his imagination, and had tried to wrest control of the Carnival. Needless to say, it hadn’t worked.

G.A. was dying.

Then a fat man in an all-black suit knelt down in front of him, holding his Golden Ticket. G.A. could almost hear the Carnival laughing at him. He could almost hear it taunting him for thinking it was his creation, and not something alive in its own right. He could almost hear its grim satisfaction in taking his life in return for his hubris. Almost. The light of the dusk sun glinted off of the dragon pendant that hung from the man’s neck, and he was reminded of Dr. Celestine’s cane in that moment of dying.

Then the fat man tore his Ticket in half. And G.A. slid.

He was standing outside the entranceway of Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls. His heart was beating normally, as it only really ever did in dreams. He was not in pain, and actually felt a sense of light-heartedness at being at a carnival. The sun was rising. G.A. looked through the gate, and saw the man in all black (Skippy?! He was supposed to be in Lansing, not here in Caro.) sleeping on the steps of Dr. Celestine’s trailer. G.A. gave the Ticketmastyr his normal ticket without thinking, and entered the Carnival of Souls for the second time and for the first time.

He was hungry, and could use some breakfast, so he headed to the mess tent.

***********************************************

Songflower stopped screaming as she blinked, and her husband’s face was her husband’s once more. He looked up at her in a dazed, what the fuck, kind of way, and she just about collapsed with relief. She assured him nothing was wrong, it was just her, and they both went back to sleep.

***********************************************

I kept fiddling with the At-At, waiting for the Doctor to return. I know I’m missing something.

[Carnival] Untangling Knots

G.A. was using a hose near the animal stalls to clean off his face. Either the “partner” had done his homework or he had just got lucky. G.A. has said before that he would stand in the sun and watch his skin bake and burn to dust before he’d wear sunscreen. Especially on his face. It was just a “thing” he had about it. No sticky stuff on the face. G.A. was remembering as he was washing….

***********************************************

“…but.. what..?” This was all too much. I was sure, now, that G.A. didn’t know me. There was no recognition seeping through the pain in his eyes. The blood vessels were beginning to pop in his eyes, making them bloodshot and pink. This was wrong. This was entirely wrong. Some detail… something… was way, way wrong.

I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder, back to the ground, where I’d dropped the tiny gun off of the At-At model. My roommate. My anal-retentive, Star Wars-loving, clean-freak roommate, and friend of six years. My room. The model of the Carnival. It was at the edge of my mind, like I’d woken up from a dream. That little piece of twenty-year-old toy shouldn’t be there. I looked back at Dr. Celestine, and bared my teeth at him. He smirked, and I’m not sure if he thought I was smiling or recognized the feral challenge I’d offered.

The anger and panic melded, just like they always do when I get into situations like this. Options were clear, decisions were made. I remembered the lattice-work I’d noticed between these people before. The two layers, with the intertwining connections. Too complicated. Patterns in nature were simple. No matter how complex they looked, when you zoomed in, they were simple patterns. When this lattice-work of relations was zoomed in upon, it was tangled, knotted, and messy. It was corrupted. It wasn’t supposed to be. Dreams. God damn dreams.

I calmly stood up and walked to the pile of clothes that the good Doctor had just discarded and I picked up G.A.’s pants. I calmly took out each item in his pants’ pockets, and went through the wallet. I put everything back in its place carefully. The anger and panic were leading, now. I was calm, directed, emotionless. That’s what happens. I picked up his flannel-turned-vest. Breast pocket. There it was. I took out what I found, and strode over to G.A. I wouldn’t notice until I was done that the good Doctor had wandered off again. Just like that bastard. I knelt down next to G.A, and showed him what was in my hand.

“You are a Dreamer, G.A. You cannot be the Dream. It is not right.” I made sure he was focusing on the ticket, as I took the end of the thing in both hands. “You will meet me later, but I won’t know you yet. In Ohio. Be sure to do your best at knowing more than you should, but only letting it out a little. You’ll attract my curiosity that way. Say hi to your beautiful child for me, as well.” I showed him his Golden Ticket. None of the attractions were marked off. It was fresh, and clean. I slowly tore it in half, lengthwise, right in front of his eyes. I could see his panic as he felt it tear. I put the remaining halves in my pocket to throw away later.

Nothing to do but wait for that Scottish bastard to come back. That cane called to me. I picked up the piece of the At-At and fiddled with it nervously. Something was nagging at my mind that I hadn’t noticed…