This is the blog of christopher E. graham. Here I will archive some writings, do some new writings, and possible revise some writings.
The category Fiction Writing are stories and pieces that I have been working on over the years.
The category ramblings are mostly lucid thoughts, and attempts at an emergent philosophy
So as an extremely self centered person I always try to think about myself first. Right now my feed is split. Pokemon Go, and the news of black men being shot and the protests. So I have to consider how both are affecting me. As many of you know, I love Pokemon, it is probably one of my favorite franchises. If you looked at my search history it’s probably an even mix of bulbapedia/seribii/smogon searches and unmentionable porn. My luchador pikachu is one of the few possessions in my life that I would be sad if I lost. I would rather spend my nights grinding levels and breeding to get EV’s than…i don’t know whatever normal people do.
Now many of you know that I have had a couple stories about how I have had run in with cops. Not for anything I have done, but for the fact that I probably was being black in the wrong time at the wrong place (one anecdote involves cops finding it how humorous at how much them stopping me was terrifying).
So why am I afraid to play my game? Because the new Pokemon Go game rewards people for wandering around at all hours. As a big black by appearance male (who fits the profile of many of those that have been lost to senseless police violence in the past years) I’m very wary of accidentally going to a pokespot and ending up in a neighborhood that I might be reported as a suspicious person.
Now most people who know me, know I’m pretty nihilistic and fatalistic so I realize that death is an inevitability. But there is a certain point my survival instinct does take over and I just can’t enjoy the exploration point of it.
I understand that this is based paranoia and I have no proof that what I fear may happen. However, that’s not the point. The point of it all is for people who (not unreasonably) believe in the police, but there are those of use who have lived lives where the police have not shown themselves as a bastion of safety, but a collective to be constantly wary of.
Seriously, I just want to play Pokemon Go.
Rouge is energetic mouse like anthro creature with horns that is early 20 something. Living with the family, their parents Carmine and Vermilion, an older sibling Umber, and a grandparent Wine. They all live on in a reasonably sized but quaint home on a farm that is tended to by the whole family. Umber being rather serious, perhaps the only serious one in the family, is determined to take over the farm one day and puts all their energy into that. Rouge, through an obsessive absorption of fantasy media, believes their personal destiny is among the stars. Carmine and Vermilion want to support their child, though they are unsure how. Though with more than enough help from Umber and Wine (who is old but very keen and versed in many skills), they let Rouge do whatever Rouge thinks will get them to their destiny. Rouge spends a lot of time exploring and getting all there is to know about the planet and other places. As a result this has led to this has lead Rouge to make friends in various places, who caught by Rouges infectious spirit have all become star gazers.
Rouges friend Quince is a anthro bug like creature that has a carapace made of various plants and minerals. She lives in a larger town and noticed Rouge for the first time, as Rouge was bounding from some of the higher buildings one night. She tracked Rouge to a tall building and founder her just looking up at the stars. She approached Rouge quietly and Rouge pulled a fruit and a book from her pack. Rouge not even looking offered them to Quince. Quince being herself took the fruit and started eating it. She flipped through the pages of the book and found it was fantasy comic about an explorer of worlds discovering mysteries of the universe. Quince started to share her desires to travel, and they both spent the night gazing at the stars. Her species is fairly attuned to the planet and can produce magical effects given the right materials and time. Quince is a big eater (part of her magical power is tied to the energy she generates from food) and dreams of visiting other planets for delicacies and discover if they share similar heart beats with the current world.
Another one of Rouge’s friends is Spade. Spade is a large pensive salamander like anthro creature that before encountering Rouge lived in self enforced solitude due to his aggressive and competitive nature brought on by time spent leading a now dismissed clan. Upon Rouge wandered into Spade’s territory, He mistakes Rouge for an assassin. Though he has sworn not to kill anymore he pursues Rouge, and to his surprise finds Rouge tricky to pen down. Eventually they come face to face and upon closer inspection realizes Rouge has no intention of a fight. Rouge explains themselves and tell Spade about wanting to go among the stars. Spade having respect of Rouges sharp mind and resourcefulness, tells Rouge that should the journey begin he will help with the rough parts.
Forcing ones ideologies as the way, under the guise of the burden of responsibility to the other, is a detriment to all agents involved. Inspiration from exemplary behavior under ones framework shows the greatest honesty.
Self awareness is hubris, instinct is naivete. The challenge is balancing the dissonance created by both to unlock the potential that is humanity.
There is a place where I can go and nothing follows me.
Most of the time this place is a horrid quagmire of conflict and doubt.
Hilariously enough brought on by my inability to react to those that,
ultimately cannot touch me in this place.
Though at times it is a tranquil shallow pool.
When I am fully submerged even the terrible self inflicted miasma cannot touch me.
Like a cloud of hornets in a cartoon that becomes confused as to my whereabouts.
Giving up the search after a period of time.
So why can I not find this oasis all of the time?
What is it about my own inner calm that, for much of the time, cannot be calm?
In the long run despair seems way more pragmatic than humor.
I remember I used to want to watch the world burn by my hands, but realized this was a reaction to my own helplessness. Now that I have embraced despair I am content to watch it fizzle out, as it would do with or without my intervention.
The pursuit of ontology and an ever growing intellect does not require one to become a curmudgeonly malcontent, it’s just one of those extra little perks.
That nostalgic feeling of songs relevant to personal epochs past. Such a wash of feelings swirls with tar and cloves and pot smoke. Feeling an autumn breeze but not the lifeless one of today. No, rather the vibrant chill that sparkled in a young mind rife with as much anxiety as identity. To ask for these times again would be folly, but to appreciate them for what the landscape has become is a delicious indulgence.
Posted in Other
Tagged Music, Nostalgia
Money is not an indicator of character or humanity, identity solely based on capital acquisition is suspect at best.