041714 #treefrog vis a vis the condescension shown by the capitol lady to the people in the districts; her unflagging demeanor, forced cheer.... it's like the teacher who gets up in front of the class and feels both frustrated and superior when the kids just sit there, blankly, staring, not leaping into the conversation like they're supposed to. The key is the "superior" piece. Teacher assumes students' vacancy is their deficit, but what if it's partly *their* condescension? What if what you're representing is not as universally virtuous and unquestionably aspirational as you think it is? Did you realize you were standing up there thinking "of *course* everybody wants to be like us! Of *course* they're poor and we're rich! Why aren't they falling all over themselves to supplicate & get what we have to offer?" If they have to emulate *you* to get the grade, don't you see how a little resentment could creep in? The problem with reality tv is not that it's not real, but that it *is* real, and we've taught ourselves in condescension to not realize that. We have learned to look at genuine human passion and suffering as a cartoon. But then isn't that how we deal with everything? Like the kids in the capitol in *Hunger Games,* running around playing at killing each other with toy swords. We play soldier. We play house. Maybe everything *is* a game. As the guy with the fancy facial hair says, "It's something that knits us all together." And we need that, even though--or maybe because--at heart we're vicious animals in a grisly arena. Is the viciousness due to the arena? Or the other way around? And how does the hunting motif fit into this? And how about when "little duck" tucks her shirt in again after being called as tribute? The idea of always being aware of being watched? The thing with the fire. Even within the game (system), variation is encouraged. We are attuned to novelty. But it's Pres. Snow's job to contain the variation at safe levels. Likewise within the school, we want you to think and question, but not *too* much. We want to manifest the illusion of free will. Keeps us feeling vital and ingenious, even though we're still in the holodeck (ok, mixed meta). But don't we all secretly crave for the individual to go rogue? Aren't we disappointed when the firefighters arrive (Bukowski)? Something in us wants our toys to come to life, even if it means they're going to attack us. We want--need?--to mate with wolves, even if the price is mortality. It's so easy to draw people into a game. How as teachers do we use that to draw students into our agenda? If it works for getting people to slaughter each other, surely it'll work for getting people to conjugate a verb. After the apple-shooting thing, how she curtseys while still looking up at them. Aggressive incongruity. And the apple thing itself--breaking the fourth wall; foreshadowing breaking the rules of the game. One thing that seems off: they keep the Districts lean & hungry. Whereas here, they prefer to keep us fat & lazy. Here they're too smart to breed hunters. Breed livestock instead. How they can manipulate the environment of the dome: reality is a thing we manipulate. Defined by our perception of our influence on it? Is there a baseline, actual "reality"? Poop. 042014 I've always known *something;* I just don't know *what* I've always known. 042114 I'm a big fan of drunk not crazy about my bitch tits a little ringing in my ears this morning as I wanked back and forth on a stump trying to get it out of the ground man those roots went deep i'm sappy, i'm simple i'm an awesome worker and i care who thinks so i love how people love food and love to eat it together i love computers and cameras and phones and printers and tv sets and hdmi cables and megan's videos where it looks like her sisters & her cousin are insanely inspired like the best of the best of the 80's music videos you wanna cry automatically? look at these in 5, 10, 15 years if we'd a had something like that when i was a kid, i don't even know if i'd a made it this far they're brave these pioneers of the new millenium i love good tv shows and how they leave you feeling empty inside dissatisfied like you're needing something more you want to cry but you can't quite so you squeeze out a few tears like you squeeze out a few turds in the morning cuz you're supposed to shit every day but you're not supposed to strain what's that about my dad said because someone said getting old's a bitch, kid he's always quoting someone i love how every old man older than me is always right about something but i still don't want to grow up i miss my old fucked up messed up girlfriends, and how i always thought they were so much more together than me and i kind of wish i could go back invisible and secret in time and just give them some fucking hope and compassion and support and love because they were just as vulnerable as i was but i didn't see that then. Or maybe I did. Who knows. I hate work but I love to work on something I love even if I start out reluctant because I know once I start I'm not gonna wanna stop until it's perfect and I know it'll never be perfect and that makes me ache too god i miss having friends don't need a chiropractor, just need to get out and swing a bat don't need more therapy, just need some real friends not distant ones not faraway ones not old ones who say they're gonna visit but never will not fake ones not tentative ones not work ones not bullshit ones not made up ones not internet ones not paid ones just real ones and i don't know how to get those anymore i'm old but not, it's a weird place to be my ass itches my nose is got red veins my ears ring my back is kinda bent when i walk across the patio after lifting a load of something but eventually i straighten up but i don't want to stay straight but i still straighten up around certain people and i don't think i want to do that anymore when do you ever get old enough to be yourself ? it's up to you it's up to you it's up to you oh and by the way: my mom said i'm doing an amazing job and i care about that too god i love people i love being imperfect and making a perfect fool out of myself i love the way the girls light up with a natural smile when they realize megan's camera is on them and they suddenly dance i love how they're so astonishingly beauitiful black hole supernova quasar pulsar universe-eating hugeness infinity love and i love how that's good enough for me and i don't care who thinks that that's silly or pedestrian or common because i am the common people and i love people especially my girls porcelain mermaid in a shop window the light is on the right side of her face 042314 houses in what used to be the slough/meadow between trails 1 & 2. can't remember if boat graveyard was just down and west of trail 1 or 2. pepsi can junction looks about the same except clearer and there's a few large brush piles. enjoy the treehouses of memory; their ruins connect you with vitality and strangers. going to follow the connecting trail (was this what we called the main trail?) because I think it leads to Leroy's gate, as well as of course to trail 2. not going to the east half, lush valley, rocky knoll, etc, because we covered that last time & saw the new developments around and beyond/below the circles. somebody sawed the fuck out of some trees at the turnoff toward Leroy's gate. and there's four concrete posts set into the ground with a blue gas can nearby. actually not sure this is the turnoff. looks steeper downhill than I remember. moving on. more new houses in the valley to the north. a new hand truck with a small load of neatly cut firewood. a constructed platform, wooden bench between two trees, great chunk of salt. inverted barrel with corn dispensing mechanism. somebody's trying to slaughter some deer. this is all at the triangular junction of trail 2. where the fuck was Leroy's gate? maybe it's the other way on the main trail. nope, found it, just had to keep following MT farther west! back on trail 2. FOUND THE BOAT GRAVEYARD. I am flooded with emotion. did not see the White Tree. wonder if it's still standing. 042714 chuck roast in the crock pot of a Sunday afternoon. god damn it smells good in here. Celi and Libby playing outside in the 45 degree spring air, Celi still in her pajamas. Libby in a pink dress. Megan made a friendship bracelet incorporating copper wire. Millie logged her reading and now they're playing super Mario Bros 3D. I'm having a luke-cool beer in a bath with two drops of rosewood oil. and there's something about that. 042814 anxiety and this stupid phone woke me up early, and once again I was given a clear honest picture.. my relationship with work. that's a thing. thinking about the life I could be providing, could have been providing for my girls by now, if it had been different. so there's guilt, regret, grief, nostalgia--my childhood was so full of comfort and joy, it's not fair that my girls are poor and it's my fault. dreamed of Peggy/a teacher--I was in high school--confronting me and me realizing I was just like Jacob whom we had all talked about with such superiority. then she said I could write stories and send them to her any time, every day, even if it didn't seem to have anything to do with school or my apparent problems. just writing, just anything, and I was very grateful and looking forward to trying that. 042914 GOD I FUCKING HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE CORRECTING PAPERS but I'm going to do some of it. RIght now. In just a second here. It's so weird. It's not like it's even that hard. It's just--well I could go on a long ramble about WHY I hate it, but, yeah, you see what I would be doing there, obviously. Okay. I fucking despise it with (not the DOING, just the BEING COMMITTED TO THE TIME or something) every fibre of my ass, but I'm going to do some right now for two reasons: 1, I promised my seniors & I'm willing to be pretty lame around them but there are limits, and 2, just to prove that, at least SOMETIMES, I am actually physically capable of doing it. GOD IT FUCKING BLOWS. My mind wants to wander ANYWHERE else. 043014 But I did some. Not ALL of it, not a PERFECT job, but NOT NOTHING. And I do feel a little less horrible today. And tonight & tomorrow it's going to be more of the same. But otherwise, can't complain, this job's pretty much in the bag. Then what? Same pay, less work, that's what, for the rest of the school year. Then maybe some kind of interesting and underpaid job with which to struggle through in the summer. Then, whatever the next thing is. Cuz I'm a pilot. Slightly haggard, occasionally tipsy, easily distractable, generally a pretty nice guy even though sometimes kind of a flake, but you know. Still a pilot. It's kind of pass/fail in a way. It ain't over. I still have resources. And I can still enjoy my days, not just get them out of the way. If getting them out of the way were the goal, I could think of a few ways to totally master that game all at once, real fast.