I need to vent

Yeah, I think you want to read my complaints. I live a touched life.

I wake up.
I shower.
I go to school.
I listen to professors drone on about things I have very little interest in.
I go home.
I start dinner.
I go on the internet and go to www.fenomas.com/tomatobb
I indulge my horrible self-image.
I eat.
I open a bottle.
I cry for an hour at how I cannot produce acceptable ideas for writing.
I fall asleep on a wet pillow.

Then, I wake up.

My life is slightly more complex.

I go to UWP (University of Wisconsin-Parkside). I drive my car to school, with my brother and neighbor coming along. I hate both of them. I do so hate them. My neighbor figures that since I'm going to Parkside anyway, he can bring along his friend who doesn't even go there. He doesn't ask if his friend can come along, no. He relies on my social awareness and me not wanting to be the asshole. I hate his friend 10 times worse than I hate him. I also hate his dog, who owns a chunk of my arm and a piece of my left knee.

All I want is to go to school and home again in reflective silence. But, no. My brother, who is two years older than me can't drive and my neighbor has pushy parents and I'm a wuss.

I don't want pity. I just want to vent my frustration.

I want to slash my own tires so I can sleep in.

I want to sleep and be alone so I can think clearly.

The Sleep Deprived

I have not been able to write anything worthy of posting for some time.

In case you actually have read my stuff and come back every so often to see if I post other stuff, this is not a dead effort... Just waiting for sleep.

The start of something

I haven't posted here in a month or so, so I bet lots of people thought this blog was dead. This is the start of something.

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Far from the town, the river bends in the shape of a snake and the hills rise from gentle rolling barrows to steep foothills. It is the start of the mountain range that separates the two great empires. Armies have, for centuries, attempted campaign after campaign through its tall passes only to meet with cold, starvation and defeat. There are actually two ranges, one after the other, separated by a deep water-carved canyon. This is where each successive army has met its match.
The inclines in this valley are so utterly defensible that no snow weary army has been able to gain even a foothold on the opposite side of the river. Each spring, the armies of the warring empires would gather on the borders and await the first movements of the enemy. They would send scouting parties into the mountains to try to decipher the opposing commanders’ strategy. As technology advanced, the scouts were first on horseback and eventually graduated to early motorized vehicles and soon found more advanced and more heavily armored vehicles and helicopters.
Technology advanced to the point that humans were no longer necessary and robots were programmed and sent to scout, find, and destroy the enemy. Humans were taken out of the equation. An over-zealous program (if a program can be considered over-zealous) on one side, it is not known which, decided to end the wars forever. It launched a surprise attack with the most devastating weapons known, the other side, having fail-safes for just such an occurrence launched a retaliatory attack within moments of the first strikes.
This lead to the utter destruction of both sides and reduced populations and technological sophistication to a minimum; as some might say, both opponents were “bombed into the stone age”. However, some technology survived and the century old blood feud was only intensified by each side believing the other launched the first strike. The valley again was the sight of blood-shed. For the first time, an army was able to take the opposing side of the valley and make headway into enemy territory.
The enemy swept down from the west and the town became the scene of a counter-attack. The enemy was sent away in retreat and the town was destroyed. Pickets were set in the valley with high-power scanning equipment and relay stations were set in the foothills at the base of the mountain range.
The enemy wasn’t totally gone, however. Rouge groups roamed the countryside, performing unspeakable acts of cruelty and barbarism. The groups gradually settled with locals and began to assimilate. As a result, the government established a military post a few miles from the town, to keep order if the rouges acted up again.

I

“Robot!” Shouted the crowd. Dozens of people were crowding outside a small house near the center of the town. Clubs and knives were the weapons of choice, although some had antique firearms which had been dutifully cared for through several generations. The house belonged to a wealthy trader who made his home in Relaya. Word had spread quickly that he had received a package from the “Machine Domain”, the area of the world ruled by machines, where humans are enslaved.
A man stood on the porch of the house and held his ancient shotgun high in the air and pulled the trigger. The weapon discharged and yanked his arm down in a direction that an arm shouldn’t be going. He seemed unfazed by the pain and shouted to the crowd, “Two hundred years ago, robots doomed our people to this life! Robots created by the goddamned poxed bastards across the mountains! Right now, there are millions of humans enslaved to robot masters! And, this bastard here, this trader, this traitor, brings one of those things into this town! Will you stand for it?” As one, the crowd erupted in a resounding, “No!” The man raised his shotgun again and shouted, “Are you going to do something about it?” The crowd again screamed as one, “Yes!” The man motioned to someone in the crowd and was handed a lit torch. He swung it and broke a window and threw the flaming torch through it and almost instantaneously flames shot through the broken glass.
The crowd cheered at the act and more torches began flying through the air and broke through windows and landed on the roof, igniting more small blazes. Very quickly, the small fires joined into a blazing inferno. Screams were heard from inside the house as the crowd watched it burn, but no one came out. The crowd, weary of watching the fire, gradually faded away until only a few onlookers were left.
“Damn, this was all?” Edward Duarte, Sheriff of Relaya held a hunk of metal and burnt plastic up for his deputy to see. “Just a programmable vacuum, is all. Lord knows we sure could use things like this here. It’s damn hard to get most consumer goods this far from the cities.” His deputy spat into the ashes and debris of what once was. “Well, Sheriff, do ya wanna file charges?”
Duarte chuckled. “Why do that? No jury will convict.”
From behind the deputy, an officer in an olive uniform stepped through the charred remains of a doorway, one of the few parts of the house that still stood. “So let us handle it. We’ll put the agitators up against a wall.”
“Nope, Captain, can’t do that. We got here first, so legally, we have to handle it.”
The officer put his hands on his belt and looked down at the ground, his mouth scrunched. “Well,” he spoke, “you got three dead here, another dead at this poor bastard’s shop…” He nudged the remains of a human, black and shrunken. “…and the worst punishment your “justice system” can give is life in prison; which, by the way, involves turning them over to us for imprisonment. Why not say that I got here first?”
“I would if I could. But, too many people saw me here before you got up this morning. No way could I control the riot. You only have to worry about controlling people. I have to worry about living with them.”
“So,” the officer raised his head, “you’ll let the murderers get away with it? They deserve to die. An eye for an eye!”
Duarte turned to face the officer. “No person, no matter what they have done, deserves to die.”
“Whatever you say, Sheriff,” The officer said with a smirk, “But I wouldn’t cast my lot with your jurisprudence.”

II.
Now, watching the border with the enemy, as mentioned before, was a series of stations with high power scanning equipment. They were automated and solar powered, but still required regular maintenance.
Slowly, up the slope walked a dusty man leading his horse. The easy trail wasn’t obvious to the naked eye, but the man knew his way. He lead his horse because of the load it carried- it’s back carried immense mass of equipment covered with a canvas tarp.
Ahead of the man was a wire fence around a small shed and a tall metal pole, thirty feet tall with an array at the top. A humming sound came from within the shed. “WARNING! ELECTRIFIED FENCE!” was plastered on all sides.
The man spoke to his horse, “Oh, electrified, eh? Oh, I better not touch it, eh?” He turned to the horse who grunted and tosses its head. “No touch, eh? Hmmm, I better turn it off, eh?” The horse nodded. “Maybe just a little touch, eh?” The horse tossed its head, saying no. “No touch?” The horse said no. “Hmmm, I won’t touch it then, eh?” The man walked around the fence to the gate. Took a metal card out of his pocket and pushed it into a slot in a metal device next to the gate. The box clicked.
The man turned to the horse. “You think it’s turned off, eh?” The horse moved its head to signify that it didn’t know. “Well, I better try it, eh?” The horse backed up a few paces and turned its head away. The man took a deep breath and grabbed the gate. “GAAAAAAAAAAAA!” he screamed and fell to the ground in spasm. The horse reared up on its hind legs, it’s cargo coming undone and falling to the ground with a clatter. It reared up again and came down to see the man standing. “Hey there, I was just kidding. Don’t take everything to serious.”
The horse turned and walked away. “Aw, now come on there Chester. This is no time to leave. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings!” Chester stopped and turned his head to look, sadly, at the man. “Come back here, please. I won’t kid with you no more, I promise.” Chester whinnied and walked back to the man, who pulled a carrot from his back pocket and fed it to him. Finished, the horse went to graze on some scrub.
“Now, let’s get to work.” The man opened the gate and began working on the devices within.
His load lessened by the repair work he completed, he was able to ride the horse back to his station. “Yep, yep, that was an easy job, eh?” The horse guffawed. “Sure, you had it easy, munching on sweet plants for three hours. I had to do actual work.” The horse guffawed again. “It was hard work, it was. How would you know, anyway?” Chester grunted. “So what if I didn’t have to climb the tower? That just shows how good I am, that nothing up there had to be replaced.” Chester sighed deeply. “Sure, you’re just a horse. And don’t get sarcastic with me.”
A vibration came from his saddlebags. The man dug in and brought out a portable radio. He depressed the talk button. “Yeah.” He said. The voice on the other end said, “You there, Chuck?” Chuck responded, “Yup, I’m here. What can I do you for, Sheriff?”