Personality in bottle

Jim Groce would be proud ...

I was at Germanfest ... and low and behold, I have a personality ... hidden, tucked away in a bottle.

Goofy -- not quite stupid, "illin'" character emerged .. dare I say, interesting?

possibly related to reality

for twenty minutes I spent midway between sleep and conciousness: foolishly I tried to develop this to think and understand. I am not yet accomplished, but am a little better at this messy phase of remembering dreams, still vaguely aware of the surroundings.

I dreamt of walking in a lake, the shallows wonderfully weedy with tiny marks on the submerged leafs, frogs eggs, hints of fish -- thinking of life abounding, then
muted blue sky (partially remembering a poor picture I took with a camera; part of the roof making not a square shape but rather a rounded trapezoid) with a yellow dandelion next to a seeded fluffy, white puff dandelion; then
songs indistinct, floods of rainbow colors (not rainbows), then
my hands manipulating something ... control; then
voices, then
smells of summer, the lake -- knowing that there was an all-wooden pier next to me, a metal rowboat there too
I was supposed to do something

asleep

wake -- wondering what? How long was I asleep -- 12 minutes.

At this same time, I was aware that I was resting, lying on my back -- on bed, blue walls, dark room, I hadn't dressed for bed, instead wearing jeans and shirt smelling slightly of smoke due to a person who chose a conversation with me was a smoker -- I knew I was free thinking -- dreaming, yet could rationalize/reason ... why would I ever smoke pot if this is how my mind works -- madness, dwelling in bizarre random images, only slightly in my control, more just experiencing a carnival booth ride (closed trailer with parnoramic screen and moving seats)

I'm thankful that it wasn't interactive with bladder dreams and water spills -- eww!

on wings of whims

"I took the harder path" says the sinner, bandit Good, Bad, and the Ugly
No so -- as you willingly put yourself in subordiantion to your desire and momentary passions, it is easier, as you make no decissions at all, but rather allow the "passions" drive you onward -- beast of burdon, ass really, to the selfish anger or id.

Later still, having no will, you wonder why your life is now hard, as you have enslaved yourself, incapable of freedom for you savor your delegation to the other -- the sinful path you choose.

Gosh -- preachy, huh?

Anyway, I was thinking that haven been given choices often, I can see where I took blame as I didn't allow my passions to overcome me, and found waste where I took no active role when following my passions. The path lies between -- unmotivated passionless person or passionate, reckless, irresponsible person -- well better to stay clear.

Poker playing

the last time I played poker for money, I should have played it like Origami --- so many folds that you protect yourself. Instead, I entered into a desert isle ... no bluffs to be seen or found. Serious or unintimidatable. On some occasions, high-low games (highest and lowest split the pot) I placed first, but most often third -- invester getting not benefits.

Strange days

Sad that a person's death leads to joy in others ...

Abu Musab al-Zarqawi killed. Like Cerpicio, I strongly believe that within moments, the head of destruction will be replaced. When the mob is altered with the don killed or imprissoned, the mob doesn't collapse, but another head emerges. So true with most organizations.

Conversation with a sociopath

I was reminded yesterday of a person with whom I briefly worked who was a sociopath. It is indeed rare to finally indetify one, as their ability to convincingly lie is years/decades in development and mastery. I was younger, perhaps more naive', but his tales fooled many people, including at least three women, with whom he sired children. Sociopaths don't raise kids. Strangely, at nearly the same time of his being there, then leaving not to be seen again, I was reading a book on Arthur Shawcross; a fairly convincing liar and near-sociopath. I used to read true crime books.

I thought the author went too far in covering the defense lawyer's attempts and successes in blaming not the client, but rather cirumstances surrounding the client -- anything but guilt. In the end, the lawyer got him tested as being a double-Y person; yet he exhibited less than half of the symptoms. His planning and methodical nature and liar, belied the underscoring of double-Y syndrome, including no dynamic sterility, size differentiation, but did show sub-par cognitive development, impulsivity, environmental (self-reported --> little reliability) intolerances. This being the case, one would wonder why he would trek across a field in winter to defile and mutilate a long-since deceased victim. Reportedly, from this liar, he consumed parts, generally genitalia, from victims -- nine prostitutes. His early child victims supposedly suffered no significant post mortem damage from him, except for minor abrasions and cuts from his hiding of the bodies.

---
Back to the sociopath with whom I spoke. To augment others' estimation of him, he was a combat veteran who had slain a few people in the army, never divluging information useful to verify it ... convenient. In his glorified, self-improtance, he corrected me in my assumption of sniper rifle usage. While I was there, he seduced (like it would take much effort) a fifteen or sixteen year old worker there. The parents weren't too happy with the involvement of their daughter with him, but since he was the father -- he was "brought in".

Later, when his callous nature was better revealed, they found, through P I s that he was not in the military, nor had any real long-standing job, that he was older than he reported and that nearly everything that he spoke was a lie. I think they got little to no money from the notorious S O B.

I found him to be engaging and putting on aires of intellectuality, but he was cunning only -- not smart. His charisma carried him where is intelligence could not. It was a learning experience.

Reports are in ... this is real

Bad motivations lead to weird ideas. Pets that live for only one to three years with programmed personality types. I geuss the makers didn't ever the end of the sci fi movies on which their ideas are based. I think that the super high-end technologies in sci-fi films generally lead the dietyman to ultimate suffering, usually taking out a couple of support cast and unknown extras in the process. I'll make a ninety-foot scorpion tarantula so that it produces lots of spider silk and venom for anti-venom serum and hey ...
it's escaped and can't be reasoned with, then the population of town A is utterly destroyed, some mutated (for a sequel) and it is finally destroyed by the love of a woman, whose role in the mole is really unknown.

Anyway ... Go there, read, be amazed, wonder if the US will really allow the sale of the bio-engineered pets. Yikes, no more sea monkeys.