“Have you always been a civilian?” Asked the solider.
“As long as I can remember.”
“And How long is that?”
“I’m not quite sure. But I know I have always lived in this city.”
“So why do you question me about my past If you don’t even know your own?”
“I just want to understand.”
“How is it possible? How could you live so long and see so much but not age at all?”
“Maybe it is God.”
“You think it is God?”
“It must be. How else could I be an immortal?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. But why do you always follow the orders?”
“I’m a soldier. That is what I do.”
“Been when you get an order from Leader … you never think about not obeying the order?”
“I never do. What is there to think about?”
(END OF ENTRY, DJ ROBO BIScuit)
It is night. I am in my bed and I have been reading. I have been thinking and pondering and contemplating. Part of me says to write the novel. or to write a clever story. but will anyone read it? Is the world interested? Will i lose focus and quit?
I ponder different topics. Science fiction, race, politics, 1984, dystopias … I wonder to myself if I can write a great story that will stand the test of time …
As the night gets later and later I know I will need to sleep. I must sleep because i must be awake to go for work. It makes me ponder time. one good thing about being unemployed is that there is no pressure to wake up and be somewhere at a certain time. But that lack of pressure creates some pressure because you feel like you are underachieving. You are smart and talented but there is nothing you have to do. Having too much freedom can be a curse because you have no structure. But, once you have a job then you are constrained … you wake up and you must be at work and you will be there for 8 hours. There could be stress and it will drain your energy. there is trade – off.
My dreams have been odd. Sometimes they have sex. Sometimes they are violent. Sometimes the dreams combine weird shapeshifting with people or ideas that come from the office workplace. in the morning I must wake up but I will go back to sleep for 15 minute intervals which is where the dreams become weird. The dreams bring in a weird concept of being fearful of work … …
There is a strange paradox to having a job. You know it is good for you in a way so you can build experience and earn money but there are elements that are not as good like the time and stress and politics. But of course you make friends with your co-workers and you laugh during the day.
The human condition must always be reflected upon and it is good to lead an examined life.
The man walked on. He had left the land behind him. He continued on the path.
He heard a tear as he walked. He looked to his right and he noticed there was a rift in time. The portal stood floating in the air revealing stars and space.
“I guess this begins my adventure.”
The man walked to the portal and stepped forward. The portal squeezed him and he flew into it and through it.
He landed with his feet on the ground. The ground had green grass. The world he was in seemed the same as the world he had left. He could breath the air. The man stared at his right arm but it was still mechanical.
“HEY YOU!” A voice yelled.
The man turned. There before him was an orange blob.
“Who said that?” The man asked.
“It is Me! I am BLOBulous.” The orange blob spoke. The blob had a masculine voice.
(End of Entry, November 3rd 2016)