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Tag Archives: Accepted Fictional Knowledge

Captedsfure

Enjoy!

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Today is great, but the last two days, I haven’t slept well. It happens. For me, sleep deprivation can lead to some highly emotional states. I know it best on those types of days to not make a bigger decision than clean the bathroom, vacuum, or do laundry. I tend to miss a nights sleep once a week, so, though unorganized, my apartment is actually pretty spick and span, and though I’ve never actually used Spic and Span, I did look up the entomology. I’m just that perky today. Also, because of this, I never have to put on the same underwear twice.

Note: I have emergency underwear should the laundry not maintain schedule. Want to hear more about my underwear? Read my book, ‘Where to Catch the Best Sales the Day Before the Apocalypse.’

So, no sleep for me means try and be quiet. Especially hard when at work, where I lecture mostly, but still just try and maintain my coolness. Speaking of work, ever notice that when you are sick, people just don’t get it, and still expect normal responses from you? They know, and still ask, ‘What’s the matter?’ And you wonder why they can’t empathize that you are hallucinating with a 101 fever? No, just me? Well, lack of sleep seems to be treated the same way. My quiet is taken for rudeness. Kind of like spaces of the introvert who gathers energy, taking it all in until ready to expel. Yes, I’m all kinds of mental self-awareness walking the tight rope of accepted social protocol, and all in clean underwear.

Why? Because I know myself, and am prepared. Otherwise I might have one of those meltdowns you see on the Internet where someone feels the need to start yelling with their fingers. Typing furiously away with self-pity at a world that until recently was maintained by four walls. In the past, if you were unfortunate, they may have left a window open, and some incoherent sound carried down the block singing the off key broken echoes of, ‘Nobody loves me, nobody cares,’ or, ‘I’m mad as hell’, or ‘Who put their red sox in the laundry with my underwear?’

All kinds of noisy traffic out there in this city, and I tend to turn it off. Gravitate toward the positive. And those who don’t, those who just tend to hear the constant whine of the drunk on horrible, truly must go insane screaming at flowers on a beautiful spring day.

What are your dreams worth trading for?

An ambitious engineer that owns a small company, Galactic Z, licenses the intellectual property rights of a game changing invention to the US Military, and their prime contractor, Global World Conglomerate in exchange for financing an interstellar spacecraft capable of reaching newly discovered earth-like planets.

It’s tomorrow, and we always knew this day would come. From a human perspective, it may be the end of the world, and so, it was either fate, brains, or just good timing, that some were already preparing to get off the planet. Meanwhile, there are survivors. Not many, probably not enough, but whether you are human, were human once, or something else that evolution got its paws on, it’s time to figure out what to do now.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t matter. You’re probably going to die. Probably, unless you have figured out a way to live forever.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HMY7G54

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Accepted Fictional Knowledge

Some writers are just a bunch of deceitful, lying, manipulative tricksters who enjoy toying with our minds. I love that. Please teach me how to do that well.

I was reading one of Steve’s books. ‘On Writing’. Since then we’ve become good friends, so he lets me call him Steve now, so I figured I should probably read one of his novels. I have a copy of The Stand sitting on my shelf. Been there for years. I like having a bookshelf with a lot of books I haven’t read. Many I have, but there is always an opportunity to grab something new, or in this case, old. Anyway, I’m reading The Stand. Don’t know if you read that, everybody else has, but anyway, it’s about some virus apparently wiping everybody out. By page 35, I started getting a sore throat and sneezed. Coincidence? I think not. It is a dusty old paperback, so I’m not panicking quite yet. At 1,100 pages though, I may never live long enough to find out. Kill your darlings? Perhaps that means something else to him than me.

Sorry, but my point is that around page 59 or 80, not sure, there is this man in a government protective facility and he doesn’t have the virus, so the doctors really want to know why? Everybody else has the virus, what’s wrong with this guy? No virus? How come?

They keep him locked in one of those vacuum chambers where no virus can penetrate. A guinea pig breathes the same air he does. A nurse wants to take his blood pressure, but he won’t let her cause he’s a bastard, and pissed, and no one will tell him what’s up, and all his friends are dead. The nurse puts on one of those HAZMAT suits and gets sprayed with what ever they spray you with. I mean, we all know how it works. That’s what the government does when a devastating man made killer viral outbreak happens. They have the room, and the suit, and the spray. Right? Well the nurse in the sprayed HAZMAT vacuumed guinea pig room sneezes. WHAT? Every reader knows exactly what that sneeze means. One frickin sneeze. Nice, Steve.

My point is, my buddy Steve took a reader’s accepted fictional knowledge and knew so. In truth, none of us really know, but we have this built upon knowledge that writers seem to feed off one and other. Sci-Fi is a great example. The fact that Steve could just build up casually, without me suspecting I was falling into a fictional knowledge trap, only to flick his writing pinky, and thus make me write an absurdly long piece about it, just shows how subtle and fantastic a trickster he is.

We all read Ender’s Game. That guy, what’s his name, I forget? Anyway, great book, but what a liar he is. First he tells you that the first hero of the Bug Wars is dead. That would be Mazur Rothman, I believe. Something like that. I have to work, so I can’t look stuff up. Mazur is dead. Everybody knows he’s dead cause that was like 100 years ago. Then on page 165, Ender asks his new, old man mentor, what his name is? Oh, “Mazur Rothman,” he says. No way! Mind blown. You’re supposed to be dead.

Now, I have a complaint here because the writer, Card, now I remember, Card uses made up physics, falsely claiming that Mazur traveled at light speed and didn’t really age. That’s not how it works, but you still buy into the fictionally accepted knowledge. Then Card lies to us a second time, and so convincingly. What? Ender wasn’t playing a game? But the book is called Ender’s Game? Now you are saying it wasn’t training, it was real? As a reader you know you are getting to the end, but still expect him to leave the planet and go fight bugs. Maybe since you are so wrapped up with feeling, like Ender, you buy into the game. In the end though, Card was just a convincing manipulative liar.

I love that.

Enjoy your life.

LD-NYC