#thegodfader

via: http://web.archive.org/web/20020603131414/http://thegodfader.com/derelict/main.htm

05/11/02 ~ by Dean Satan ~

You know if there’s one thing that’ll wake you up real quick it’s taking an early morning "spill", heading to the store on the old skateboard. High speed, I make a b-line directly for a fresh patch of asphalt knowing it’s smooth. Bad part is, it’s not packed or tampened hard, not at all a solid surface, not at all. Like mud in sand, the skateboard sticks like glue. Me meanwhile, go flying superman-style like I’m sliding into home. I continue down the street rolling a bit, maybe two or three times. It’s cool. It’s far better to "roll it out" than land hard once.

"Are you okay?" says a lady across the street. She’s talking to a guy by a Public Works truck.

"Son of a bitch… you fuckin’ piece uh shit!…. Arrrgh", I say. "I’m cool, there’s a fresh patch of road for me." The kids in front of the store are howling laughing. I lay in the street for a few extra seconds for dramatic effect. I get up and scan for leakage and degree of bodily damage. It don’t hurt.

So, I’m bleeding from my elbow, knee, and wrist. My neck is starting to hurt. I pick up my skate and fling it earthbound, back into the square of oily gravel.

"Well that’ll happen to ya sometimes. What were you doing, practicing a trick?" chimes in the guy by the truck.

I wish I had a story about how it was all related and really it is. But what am I going to do? That fat-ass dude probably just filled it that hole. I know everyone else that saw it was entertained, judged on the applause alone. Plus, my wrist is starting to hurt. I hope I’ll be able to roll cigamarettes.

So, the point is fuck all this new interest in "Extreme Sports". I’ve been riding a skateboard since Bones, and Natas and Gator and FfeJ and Gonzo and Oscar. Busting tricks and picking scabs. Stealing wood to make ramps that get torn down in the span of a week ten times over. Since, Fat Larry GoSkate, back in the day. To put that into perspective, 1980… before even as a wee toehead. I’ve been busting my ass, hurting my self while "playing" from the get go. So now there’s this fascination for dangers sports by the mainstream. Why is it that all the stuff I like ends up being cool? Watching someone else bust their shit doesn’t do anything for the viewer except give ‘em something to talk about. Being true to the medium of television, its truly not interaction and brings new meaning (to me) to the phrase No Pain No Gain. Unless you actually do it, you aren’t getting anything out of it. Life is not a spectator sport. And in the words of the Surf Punks, "Locals Only" … oh and "…Look out for the dummies there’s a million and more, they’ll rip off your spot, they think they’re hot. If you see a dummy, send him back where he came, the land of the low-life’s, the land of the lame."… but I digress. If someone’s gonna market your lifestyle at least you should get a few bucks.

You should be inspired to try to do something adventurous. Pinch yourself or have a friend punch you in the arm. Do something dangerous, learn a lesson. Knife throwing for fun and profit. Slap your friend in the back of the neck. He may stand up and punch you in the gut or he may do nothing. Either way it was an experiment wasn’t it? Send all research data to a local university, maybe you’ll get a grant. To cut to the chase, pain makes you know straight away that you’re alive. Not really a big revelation but when it was said that "As I bleed I feel alive", it is very life affirming. We are only really talking about cuts and scrapes bruises and sprains… nothing too serious. In this case getting the sensation of zero G’s for split-second followed by the awkward jarring and subsequent pang from misreading the signals. The next time I know I should know the surface on which I am entering. Pretty good lesson. I learned folks like to laugh. It’s only a lot cooler if it’s someone else they’re doing it at. Arm-chair quarterbacks and critics are bad right? Forget the fact that I’m a stinking critic my own sports-hating self. You gotta bust a few eggs if you're gonna make a Kraft singles omelet.

So get out there and run around crazy, blindfold optional. That’s about all I’m saying I’m not gonna be the only one nursing my wounds. Self-destructive’s unite! (Act responsibly)

It ain't how often you say it, but what you say. I said this twelve years ago -

Who's coming up with the new formulas, new templates, new routines, new thought? All i see seems to be re-explorations of familiar patterns. Wheeze going to war, accidents over and over. When's the last time you saw something "new", an unknown that wasn't brutal or tragic? and that's serious to say. Familiarity breeds comfort, but damn, gimme a break. Even the hamster gets off the running wheel sometime. Why do you mostly only see friends on the weekends or family at weddings and funerals?

Why don't people do the (good) things they want to do? Happily, I have been surprised at the friendliness of others, strangers acting noticeably human. Hopefully in a month, after "happy new year", people that don't know each other will find something new to say to connect. I think people are beginning to notice that this really is all there is, being civil to one another works, and the world around seems to be getting really fucked up and it's not "us" that's doing the fucking. Sorta akin to people coming together in a crisis situation - you start to look out for your fellow man. You find out quick who friends are, form bonds, survive. Things like "women and children first" and "duck and cover" or "Stop Drop and Roll" coming into practice... I guess that's scary too.

Maybe better safety rhymes are in order:

Slap Me Five and Stay Alive - Handshakes for Humanity, Stop, Drop, and Roll Me A Doobie, Singing a song? Don't forget your bong.

Maybe sensationalist, but...

[rant deleted]

{Fademan drops some wisdom}

[flash forward]

Scene: Crowded Check Cashing Center

I'm next in line, its hella crowded. I've been waiting 15 minutes or so, the place is filling up, people are gettin' impatient. So... I'm standing there looking forward being silent.

Big O.G. with a bead in his fu-man-chu goatee: Yo man, Imma get a money order.

Me: Cool. . . alright. (I'm thinking, what the hell you tellin' me for?)

Big O.G. with a bead in his fu-man-chu goatee: Naw,man, Imma cut in front of you.

Me: Dude, there's plenty of people behind me, we've all been waiting.

Big O.G. with a bead in his fu-man-chu goatee: What?! I'll fucking kill you. You know who I am? Imma O.G.

Me: I don't got no beef with you. I'm just saying, everyone in here's been waiting bleh . . .

Big O.G. with a bead in his fu-man-chu goatee: You talking back to me? I'll kill you, I'll kill you and your whole crew!

Me: Awww Man, Are you crazy? I don't have no crew, guy. What the fuck. If it's that big a deal to you go ahead, man. Knock yerself out.

Big O.G. with a bead in his fu-man-chu goatee: Mutherfucker, I'll knock you out.

SO, the entire place is quiet as church mice, and that's a tired cliché for really really really quiet. No, no fellow check cashing center patron chimed in with, "You're after me." or "I'm next.", or "You're after her." or "Get in line fatty." or any one of the fine responses for this standard group dynamic. No "Hush now Playah" or "G'wan" or "Easy Naw", Everyone enters Rubbernecker Mode. But nothing.

Me: I don't know what the problem is man. We're on the same side of the glass here, that dude (pointing to employee on other side of bullet-proof glass) works here. Your beef is with him. I might be a man, but I'm not "THE" man.

Chuckles from strangers. Some dude and a lady in line FINALLY break the silence and laugh.

(Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap) (Employee-dude is tapping on the glass)

He gets The O.G.'s attention, writes him $50 Money Order, and he's out.

Seconds after he's gone, oh yeah, bunch hens, everyone's chatty now.

Then it goes: Old Lady: Oh my, he made me nervous.

Big dude that chuckled at joke: Man, you got straight punked.

Me: Fuck yeah I did. I got punked like a . . .(looks around) bitch. What the fuck am I gonna do man, all I want to do is cash my check and eat some food. That guy can get a money order anywhere, fucking mash me in the face and bounce. I just wanna get some damn food tonight. Fuck that.

Big dude that chuckled at joke: He did punk you though.

Me: Yeah, I noticed the rest of ya'll were kinda quiet. You didnt care if he cut in line? Why'd you pin that on me? That was crazy.

Old Lady: He was kinda getting my nerves up... I had to turn around. (<- heh heh)

Big Dude...: You gotta handle yours kid. That was pretty funny though.

Me: Yeah Hill-a-rious. Good lookin' out.

Anyways, I couldn't cash my paycheck (due to previous checks not clearing?!) which sucked. But I think in the end may have been good for me that I didn't walk out of there with a pocket fulla bills given the circumstances. So, I guess I may have been wrong about what I said before, but maybe it could be just the simple truth that people get stupid around money. *Hops on the Crazy Wagon to Radical Town*

As I've noted, I may or may not have some ability to predict trends in pop cultures as well as earthquakes. So maybe I'll be wrong but I most often been right and/or generally close. I freaked out all my friends by calling all of the key elements of the wing-nut sniper(s) the plagued the East Coast. I had told close friends what I thought it might be going on/what was happening at the time/how it would end, but neglected to write about it, fearing I'd be wrong. That, and I didn't really want to get caught up in all that nonsense. But I just opened up the thought to what might happen to the over all event and I ended up scoring.

It sorta sucks to be right when you're talking about something that is wrong. As far as earthquakes, I've gotten from predicting within a couple of weeks to a week, to a day, but the location changes (its not local, but somewhere else in California or anywhere on the globe really - but maybe it counts). So, I've got some number in my brain. I all ready knew we'd be at war at thei9s time; look back in the archives from day one (pre 911).

I'm not going to go as far as any Chicken Little "the sky is falling" but its slowly sinking, perhaps like a blimp with a flammable gas leak. The #'s 17-19 sound good and if not the 8-11 - and I guess they are dates. So in a few days, or first week of next month sounds ripe. All of my friends (and I) have been seeing power lines and disasters as of late in the dreams. So maybe there's something to that. Did anyone else lose specific channels on the New Years Eve?

Specifically the network (NBC, CBS, NBC,) channels carried by cable broadcasters for a fee, since using antennas is a thing of the past. We thought there might have been some extortion going down, and wasn't there a deal that all that stuff would be handed over Jan 01, 2003 anyhow. I could certainly visualize another kook coming out of the woodworks or a sensational seize or stand-off or event on all channels. Not the expected war, but something koo-koo on home ground as it were. They all ready figured the Anthrax came from within the US, Enron activities and follow-thru fell off the planet, Power Crisis took a backseat, Unemployment is growing, self-destructively chasing a dinosaur called oil. All these glaring facts of reality and no one says shit. I don't think people realize the power that they do have and or the amount of power that is being flexed in their name. Or if they do and you start to remind 'em or re-awaken them to that fact, and it scares them. Because either A) you realize you aren't doing shit about it. or B) you think that there isn't anything that you could do about it.

Here's another wack one. News is often kept from the masses for fear it would cause panic or other freaks to repeat the antics. And, apparently there's a serial slasher is "Anytown" U.S..A. (San Francisco) and no ones saying shit about it. Some kook cutting folks up/or their clothes off and running away. Not in no newspaper. What kinda shit is that? And, why isn't that on the news?! Just as far as people's general safety. I betcha that goes down all over the place. Also, Alaska's got a huge Independent Party (you know, not Democrian or Republicrat, but a third choice) and many a supporter too. It is surprising to me that they're growing in numbers. Well, the head of the Independent Party was assassinated and no one says shit. It wasn't on the news.

Speaking of assassination. The dude that developed the hardware for all early and subsequent 8-bit gameboy/Nintendo hardware was recently "not-alived", days before he was supposed to retire. I think a computer engineer should be smart enough not to get ran over trying to change a tire on the side of the road days before he's supposed to retire and collect on royalties... or at least fear leaving the corporate umbrella if that's what's gonna happen. But in this case also it something shitty that goes down, little is said about it and it continues on. I open to the idea that eventually, though objects that are in motion tend to stay in motion, I imagine it like a Top, it runs out of juice sometime and a second application of force is applied and again it spins on. Oh yeah back to the cataclysmic prediction... no raining frogs but more realistically, social disharmony due to lack of available resources causing a strengthening of the disenfranchised masses, repeats of large groups of labor forces /infrastructure strikes and outages due to inflation and union politics, whispers of Impeachment? ... I was gonna say "volcano last week", but it all ready went off. . . I wish I wouldah sent this a week back for the Mexican earthquake alert, I couldah told ya that. anyhow, watch yourself out there, I say within 3 months you will find yourself open to think about different perspectives and modes of thought. . . or not. I sorta ran outta steam there. . . I gotta go and clean up my rat's nest of a warehouse. Try Towelora. Don't have time to watch a years worth of TV? My New theme song. Oim finkin' 'bout changin' muh noime tuh Tim. [cut] I had a bunch of notes written down on how, normality is fuckin’ nuts, the status quo is crazy, like that’s a shocker. I am very sad to say and entirely bugged out by the fact I am now employed. It’s going and/or went like this: Landlord: "Dude, I know how you’re waiting on your dream-job and all, but I can’t continue to wait for rent. I’m as it is, two months in the hole. If you don’t have a job by Monday (it was Wednesday at the time) I’m kicking you out… cha cha cha. In 3 days time he drops by with 2 friends popping their knuckles. So, needless to say, the pressure was on. Reality kicks me in the bag with a workboot. I called a place for a job the next morning, interviewed the day after that, and started the following day. So that’s good, crisis overted, the wolf is no longer at my door. I am "back in the industry", like in the back 40, way in the back yard of my previous chosen indusrty, but at least I’m in. But here’s the used condom in the potato salad, I’ve been conditioning myself to be a Bohemian for the past 400+ days. I’ve been renewing friendships, drawing, painting, writing, waking up at the crack of noon, rocking the pajamas ‘til ‘bout 3pm... Shit, maybe wear em all night, skip taking a shower, change a t-shirt, good to go. Stay up til 4am playing records or doing internet radio show, living a life. No ones going to smell you, hold up in your crib like a hermit… unless you want them to. So on the surface it may seem a "different" choice as far as career paths/lifestyle/whatever, but them "normal" ones is the ones you gotta watch out for. Who in their right mind would wake up when it’s dark. I had no idea there was a 6 in the morning as well, I knew there was one at night. But just play along, wake up in the dark, maybe drive 2, 3, 4, hours to get to a place you used to love/hate flat out, and leave in the dark to return home hours later, and do it all over again, let alone for 20+ years inna row. Lucky for me, I’ve chosen and gotten to be able to do what I love for a living – make video games. I show up to my job all sunshine and rainbows and the seasoned veteran’s are like, "it’ll wear off man, you’ll hate it soon enough." Which sucks for me because I don’t exactly know if I like it right now, this transitioning back into society. Here’s a fuckny (fuckin’ funny) one, you manage to get a job. They give you a paycheck. You can’t cash the check unless you have a bank account. You can’t have a bank account, if you don’t have I.D. No I.D> if you’ve got fines, or warrants, or no money – which you’re trying to get in the first place. If you cash checks at a neighborhood moneymart anycrime check taxing center, you’re out 6-8% and for "not so much", that’s shitty. I guess it’s "good" and all. I get to keep my house, and hope to one day by food. I weighed myself while at the seasonal family dinner celebration, I clocked in at the same as I was in 86, 180lbeeez. Awww yeah. :\ When I get some money in my pocket, after I payrent of course, I’m eating some goddam sushi, fuck all else. Big ups to the Fademan, I took your psychological disorder test and I’m glad to say, it was the exact (almost) opposite of yours. I’m "Histrionic" as a motherfucker. Yin and Yang all up in your face and shit. Boo-Yah! What I’m saying It’s good to see, Namacken a.k.a. TheProfessuh, who ever the hell that is, right on. I’ll be checkin’ in real soon like you hear. I gotta go to sleep and get up work… and I still don’t like the way that looks on screen. Fuckin’ A. Now we can really blow doors on that e/n diary pulp everyone’s always danglin’ on our collective nuts for. Ooops, gotta hold back. I must condition my comedic patterns to be less abrasive. [Conversation that’ll never happen:] - or happened early one morning after escaping death on the way to the office while enjoying a cigarette... Knob: Hey how bout that weather huh? F'kin trippy. Trippy. Me: Yeah it must be pretty fuckin’ trippy, sitting in your heated Mercedes, sippin Starbucks, listening to Windham Hill, hydroplaning down the 101 in the rain… On a skateboard, I essentially walk in the rain for 2 miles. You almost hit me back there you know, that shit aint funny. Knob: My bad, homeboy. My windows are pretty foggy. I was also rushing to get in early to make you look bad. You’re the new guy right? I heard about you. It’s trippy that a lot of people here used to work at your last company who shall remain nameless. Word kinda gets around. Musta been trippy the whole thing with the . . . section deleted . Anyhoo, I get going, all the Execs are upstairs having Fondu. Peace out, newbuck. So, as he turned away, I tripped ‘em. "Pretty trippy, huh. I know how you corporate-type like the puns". Ugh. -D     Talking To Yourself = Poetry: Excerpt From A Lonely Chat Room DSatan - g'damn... who IS that? I’m gonna make ya famous. *cuts n pastes*

Callsign F - SAINTED LIGHTS Callsign F - Arrest their development, Abuse their intelligence, Kill them, Wire them, Hock their lives. Then justify through coercion, Be determined in manipulation, Slip inside sublime suggestion, Then kill them once again.................Then i will cry at your depravity, Yet relieved with utmost clarity, That Heavens as yet are not for man, For if you were God would you really grant, More than chugging cargo bays? As wealth goes up in wasteful blaze, As children fear of future wars, And death goes knocking at their doors........And adults try adjust their roles, To pass on future wondering souls. Deprive the love that children need, Replaced by Gods of lust and greed, And equality - just a dream, Egalit world - descriptive tease. Violence superseding hearts, Dreams are shattered, broken shards........Look closely how we rule these lands, And ask what of our future plans? Are lessons learnt from previous haste? Will we persist with tribla hate? Burn prejudice in childs eyes? Make them wires - steel their lives? For if thats the case then ill not stay, In a darkened world that had its day.......So do not arrest their development, Do not insult their intelligence, Then thered be no need to kill, then thered be no need for wires, Thered be no need to hock, Then justify the lot, Or another sainted light will die, As another miscarriage of death walks by.

Ch00nz - well fuck me then Ch00nz - drops in @ 04:58:08

Callsign F - with 'egalitarean' nothing more than a descriptive tease, i crumble and cry at our current perceptions of democracy. Callsign F - with greater society sold on the idea of existing freedom. The powerless remain slaves. Callsign F - (i fekkin wish) Callsign F - I AM NOT A NUMBER, I AM A FREE MAN Callsign F - who is number one Callsign F - where am i, in the village, what do you want, information Callsign F - 'COME ON DANCE YOU FEKKERS'. *kicks skeletons* Callsign F - i can only fit one deck and ma cd mixer in dis bedroom Callsign F - *sighs deeply* Callsign F - *und vacant sign on toilet* Callsign F - *notes several skeletons in tree* Callsign F - *keeps one eye open for night vision and scans for any lurkers* Callsign F - *shoots paraloom at vultures* (note) – I have no real idea who wrote this (as far as you know) but I thought it was screaming to get out. I figured I could help it on its way. I also have no idea what a "paraloom" is but I’m guessing it’s some sort of slingshot or projectile based weapon system… Maybe it could even be a yummy marshmallow sauce, I’m not sure. But the vultures signify that there is a smell of death in the air. Speaking of foul smells, I need to take myself a shower because you could cut the funk in here with a knife and I’m starting to leave a trail like a snail. p.u. ROT13 parting message: vg vf jvgu zhpu erterg gung v fnl vg "fhpxf" gung gur sbezngvba bs guvf tebhc sryy ncneg yvxr n puvarfr zbgbeplpyr. juvpu vf abg n enpvny fynz ntnvafg gubfr bs puvarfr urevgntr ohg zber fb fcrnxf gb gur snpg gung nf n oebnq trarenyvfz, gurer ner ab puvarfr-znqr zbgbeplpyrf. gubfr jrer gur orfg gvzrf jr arire unq. (roo)Key: http://www.degraeve.com/rot13.shtml (edit) actually there are chinese motorcycles, hyosung for example.

~

 So, in this dream, I’m sleeping on the couch in front of the television. As I open my eyes, what looks like a spider crawls across me from behind and ventures out across the carpet. I figure I should step on him. As I look closer at it, it is not a spider at all but a small shiny black crab. I stand up to step on him and he turns to face me with his pinchers raised. I figure I’ll let him slide, this time, as I notice I am late for work. (I am still sound asleep) The next reality, I am at a suburban mall (Hillsdale) racing toward the bus stop. I think to take a short-cut through the mall and enter some double doors. I am surprised to find that the mall is different from it was before. I am not standing in a large mall courtyard but a small jewelry store. I stumble in as the security guard looks at me. I figure some time has passed since I have been here, as it must be newly constructed. "Can I help you?" says some lady. The security guard looks at me as I push a chair out of my way to leave. I am back outside running toward the bus stop. Each step trying to run becomes more difficult. I can barely get my legs moving so I begin to try to pull myself along grabbing handrails and trees to help pull myself forward. When I finally get to the curb, the traffic is moving too swiftly to cross and I notice my girlfriend is on the other side of the street also chasing a bus. Luckily for her, she gets on. Sadly for me, I cross the street and continue to chase traffic down, following the stream of cars. There is a red light ahead so I should be able to intercept the crowded bus. The fact that is so difficult to move causes me to yell, "Hey!" like hailing a taxi. This time I REALLY wake up as I am saying "Hey!" It’s strange to wake up talking, if you ask me. As my eyes start to focus I think that I am staring at a spider dangling from its web. No I am much more alert as this spider-thing DOES indeed seem to be grounded in reality. So, this time, I figure I am really waking up… and I was. But the more that I attempt to keep my eye on this spider, the more it turns into what it is, a dust-bunny sort of cobweb gently swaying in the wind. But, the more I try to focus on it, the more it disappears until there’s nothing there. I woke up a bit confused and full of energy. I don’t know what it means, but at least it was surreal and very entertaining. You may have read that I was going through some "rough times" before, but this starving artist routine is getting old real quick. I am still eating the same low-budge combo of food stuffs, still looking for work, still waiting on that call, still living check to check with a week of non-living in between. Almost a year has passed since I’ve bought clothes or shoes or "lived" life. Let me just say now, that this sucks. So I just heard about Cognitive Dissidence, let me see if I got it right. People make bad decisions on purpose and often the opposite of what you’d think. Or perhaps, if you pay someone more than they are worth they’ll be more of an individual/true to self/honest. But if you pay someone less than they are worth they’ll often be a lowly company man putting their own beliefs aside… possibly in hopes of getting those big bucks down the road, I have no idea… but that was me there, the underpaid one. So while searching around for information of this concept that would have people behave so curiously, I found this and it much more brainy and sadly true than I would have stumbled across on my own: "…In the same way, the so-called "war on drugs" is not a war on pills, powder, plants, and potions, it is war on mental states — a war on consciousness itself — how much, what sort we are permitted to experience, and who gets to control it. More than an unintentional misnomer, the government-termed "war on drugs" is a strategic decoy label; a slight-of-hand move by the government to redirect attention away from what lies at ground zero of the war — each individual’s fundamental right to control his or her own consciousness." Big UPS to Richard Glen Boire, Esq and to all the Alchemind Posse. It’s a bit of a stretch but the trouble arises from what you think you should do as an individual and what you think society would have you do. Often one will be sacrificed for the other and most often it is a bad choice. What is progress for the individual is also progress for the group… if that individual "plays well with others" I mean. Have an open mind, please. But, if you don’t, at least let others have theirs. The internet doesn’t care what color you are, this is probably one reason why it is successful. I don’t know if any thought has been put to it, but in this arena we are only humans. In the forum of chat, you are only as valid as your choice of words: a text string without race, detached from its form or body. This is why both the best and worst of behaviors may be proudly displayed. This is why it is a threat. If people actually communicated without a care as to how the other person on the other end was different, you would see only similarities. The information that we would (do) share would strengthen or sense of community and bring the world closer together. Either that or we can keep arguing and fighting and fuck each other all up. -D

07/02/00