Manifesto of the Dream builders Union

I am firmly of the opinion that we all do get everything we ask for.
The full dreams and aspirations starter kit. What we need then is vision and fallowthrough, nothing comes prefab. And it’s really all a question of capacity (that love child of sincerity and ability) because a gun, badge, uniform, nightstick, pair of hand-cuffs, belt, boots, hat, can of pepper spray, tazer, ticket book, pen, car, fraternal order membership card, laptop, mirrored sunglasses. Doesn’t shake and bake you into a representative of Justice.
And a full scenery dock and costume shop doesn’t make a play. Our problem is we order dreams on credit not reading the fine print that these student loans come due (opposite of the others) if we don’t complete the course work. So we sit over drawn mix and matching the incomplete pieces of our simultaneous aspirational excess and wonder why nothing looks like the picture on the box. So if you’re waiting for an addition of “dream assembly for dummies” here it is and it’s concise; Just live. And do so without hesitation or concession.

Pennsic Stories Year II

Alright then Pensic stories... well I’d have to say that Pensic (for me this time) was like Beltane plus Groundhog day. I met and hung out with an artist who’d made and brought along a large ceramic Buddha. He and I got along famously and intend to keep in touch. We’re planing to go as Satyrs to at least one party next year. I saw lots of pretty women some solid fighting and a myriad of merchandise some cool some cheesy but all amusing enough for one gander or another. I got a button that says “Blood is thicker than Water, Adjust your recipes accordingly” courtesies of the wife of a friend (who thinks I’m nice but way out of control a lot of the time... who knows maybe she’s right). I met a nice merchant girl and catted about fantasy novels for a while, she’s just off to school to be a lit major and has said she’s going to write me so apparently I have a new pen pal. Several actually as George (the artist) and I both made friends with the pseudo little sister of our (mutual) friend Ian and she might write as well... we’ll see tho, I’m not holding my breath, you know how these things go. I spent a goodly time hanging out with a guy who makes some absolutely wonderful mead and who’s going to teach me a thing or two so maybe I can start brewing such myself, that would be wicked cool and I’m stoked to get the info later when I get back in touch with him. I learned a bit a bout drumming and in theory here will be receiving a good twenty to thirty pages of lessons on drumming from a Journeyman drummer I know out there. I had wickedly vast amounts to drink but it was all free and it was (mostly) all very good, 102 year hold Haitian rum being on the high end of the scale along with things like Chocolate Covered Strawberry Mead. All the way down to some everclear punch which didn’t taste that strong but after a couple of tankards made sure you knew it was hanging out for a while *lol*
As of roughly the middle of the week George and I were hanging out with three ladies we’d met there and our evenings consisted mostly of watching them go wild across all sorts of gatherings (many camps have parties so party hopping is practical a sport there) and dance (two of the three did some verity of middle-eastern dancing) and then half carrying them home to their tents pouring them into bed and then shambling back to my own to catch a few z’s before the sun par boiled me into consciousness yet again. It was good times and I’m glad I got to go, crazy bonfires in the woods under the full moon are wicked cool :D
oh and I got to hang out again with some new friends I’d made from last year.
Debauchery, quips, puns, taunts, teases, and stories of years gone by were shared by all. Jokes songs music (all live) and comic acts were prevalent as well. And I got to meet a man who’s an honest to go ninja. He’s been a backwoodsmen, a spec-ops trooper, learned two whole styles of illusion and magic, is wicked good at reading people, knows how to tell stories like nobody’s business and happens to be a good pal of a friend o’ mine, a big black Scotsman, no really I’m being totally serious as odd as a black scot may seem. It was wonderful to hang out with him, I think I’d have to admit to even being a little in awe of the guy he’s just so multi-talented and I got to see him employ a sampling of them. Oh and I wandered around the whole time in a Kimono and War-skirt, and sometimes Gatia being all Samurai-ish. Well that covers my stories at least from a global perspective if you want more descriptions of any given area just inquire within :P and I’ll be happy to elaborate.

Sol

only fear

I was just asked what makes me guarded, why past a certain point I seem perptually withdrawn, well it's a good question and sparked an honest answer, I provide it for you here...

what set me on gaurd? why dear lady learning to speak did. That's not

clear tho. The answer is that I knew myself before I knew speech, and

when I'd gained the skills to speak with others I started to learn

things such as lies, betrayal, forswearing, dishonor, and crulity.

These were not part of my world before, it took my mother nearly two

weeks to convice me that people would be capable of lieing. I couldn't

comprehend the phnomon, it made no sense to me it felt so wrong. Then

when I finally accepted that with a sick sinking feeling in my gut I

asked her why they didn't just make people promise to tell the truth

before they asked them questions, because surely even those so depraved

as to lie wouldn't break their word. Another week more or less passed

with that one. After which I was broken and some part of me feels like

sobbing everytime I go back to that place, it was when I lost faith in

the basic goodness of our species. It took longer for me to become

aquinted with betrayle, that wasn't until my teens, and that taught me

how someone could come to desire sadistic things as well for I was made

crule, truely crule for the first time in my life. Dishonor I still

don't understand even tho I've tasted it ground into my face time and

again. I'm not the perfict moral person I once was, I'm not as worthy

or as good as I started out to be, no where near so pure. And I say

that from knowing myself, not from any religion or phlospy so I can't

have the luxery of wondering if I've been misled. I fall short of my

own truth and there is no escaping that, I must find a way to rise above

and struggle with that every day. I know more temperance now than once

I did, I'm less of an extreamist and that's all towards the best near as

I can tell. I don't trust people because they can stomic what is going

on better than I can and if they can do ought be choke on this abhorent

situation I am profoundly distrubed. However it's not for me to judge

individuals, everyone has a reason to be where they are and I too have

fallen so how am I to set myself in judgement? I am not. Therefore I

strive and try to aid others hopeing that somehow the blind can lead the

blind out of this mire. Why do I look? to understand what I can't

concive, where this all started. I can grasp how once inflicted with it

you can have it re-occur. How when faced with it sometimes it is the

answer to fighting it. What I don't know and yet strive to see is where

it came from, what started it. Somewhere in the scope of people lays

that answer and I will have it, I must have it... I need to understand.

And people, most people are well intentioned yet weak. What if, I'm not

saying it is so, but what if that one who hurt you last year was

drinking a bit and started out meaning to be friendly... and then

crubled before his own poisen? I've seen it happen, I've struck people

down for it (no I've not killed anyone in this life) I taste the

weakness of others, their pain and hopeless fuitility. Kennidy was

right, fear it's self. It feeds on it's self, grows stronger. It's like

cancer of the heart, strangeling the soul.
Why am I gaurded? because no one can afford for me to be weak, too many

others are too many others need help from those who've succumbed to this

toxic soup we call "culture" and even that assement is limited. And

even worse than that what if I were to fall into such degenaration?

What if I let myself degrade so? That thought drives me like a bryer

thorn lash, I could be so horrable, I've drunk poisen to understand it's

power and now must fight it every day as it holds a portion of my soul

in it's sway, must except it be it embrace it yet always master it,

always. I fear the day I slip more than anything else creation has to

offer me, I'd rather be peeled from the insideout by parasites.
Tho' the two don't seem so diffrent really. I know how to do what's

right these days but listening to discordant hymes in my soul and

dancing to their contra beat. I predate the parasites so that I don't

become one. That is what I'm always on gaurd against, the one and only

thing I've every really wanted, to touch the world.