Nelson Lowhim's Blog, page 124

And so it goes (again)

For anyone who doesn't know. And so it goes is a line used to much effect in Vonnegut's book, Slaughterhouse Five. A book that everyone should read at least once. It's short and to the point, though a little on the depressing side. But, IMHO, all good books are a little depressing. For my readers, I just sent out a short story via email. If you didn't receive it, just email me (nlowhim [at] gmail [dot] com) and I'll send one out to you. Better if you sign up (to the left) to make sure you don't miss out on future stories (which won't be available elsewhere).
As far as my future books, one will be done soon, but it will be editing that shall take even longer. And for the end of the When Gods Fail series, which will be at least several months away (end of the year is still tentative, I'm afraid), is also in the initial phase of being written.
Now, for thoughts on current events (and the "And so it goes" sentiment)

If you destroy and build nothing, then there's no place for you in the world. How true. For those who build will always win. How true again. So if you bomb a wedding, you need to build universities that house lawyers who can say it's okay to bomb that wedding. Or if you destroy souls via torture, make damn sure you have the lawyers for that righteousness when people find you've been torturing prisoners. The world seems so much clearer, doesn't it?[1]
And that might doesn't make right any more, is surely a relief for all of us. This means that those who can push the weak will not do so anymore. This means, of course, that an international court for war criminals will be accepted by President Obama and they will not try to except themselves from its purview. Never. That would be might making right. Nor would they do the same for their staunch ally in the region. No, when you shoot down a plane you can never get away with not allowing an investigation and with never apologizing.
So feel safe my fellow world citizens, the world is getting better by the moment. Celebrate and be joyous.  

[1]This isn't just America. Think about the land where iphones are being built and how they make the world a better place and how the monks in Tibet are so happy with all the building that they're burning themselves with joy (I think this is the official Chinese position).


Some other articles that might pique your interest (ostensibly on all matters global or books):#This one is on the global conflict of the West and Islam as seen through the lens of the Rushdie affair.#This one is a list of the five best science fiction novels out there. #This one is an article about drone warfare and its effects on the world.# This one is about reading news in today's world. The solution is that global is better.# This one is a list of the best books of the 21st century# This one is a list of the best books of the 20th century#This on is an article with links to matters of the Iraq war and players not commonly known.


My book: Ministry of Bombs is an exciting and unconventional take on the War on Terror.

Thanks for reading. As always, you can contact me at nlowhim@gmail.com if you have any questions or wish to discuss something. Look forward to hearing from you.

Thank you for reading, I understand how valuable your time is. If you found this story/musing interesting in any way, I would be grateful if you could share it. Getting the word out is an important part of growing my readership. You can sign up here to receive news and other goodies, such as free books (free shorts) here: http://eepurl.com/DX2In
Then Subscribe to my mailing list* indicates requiredEmail Address * First Name Last Name Email Format
htmltextmobile
And if you could give a reasonable tip using the donate button below, that would be greatly appreciated as well. All the best, and thanks again:
[image error]

And so it goes (again)

For anyone who doesn't know. And so it goes is a line used to much effect in Vonnegut's book, Slaughterhouse Five. A book that everyone should read at least once. It's short and to the point, though a little on the depressing side. But, IMHO, all good books are a little depressing. For my readers, I just sent out a short story via email. If you didn't receive it, just email me (nlowhim [at] gmail [dot] com) and I'll send one out to you. Better if you sign up (to the left) to make sure you don't miss out on future stories (which won't be available elsewhere).
As far as my future books, one will be done soon, but it will be editing that shall take even longer. And for the end of the When Gods Fail series, which will be at least several months away (end of the year is still tentative, I'm afraid), is also in the initial phase of being written.
Now, for thoughts on current events (and the "And so it goes" sentiment)

If you destroy and build nothing, then there's no place for you in the world. How true. For those who build will always win. How true again. So if you bomb a wedding, you need to build universities that house lawyers who can say it's okay to bomb that wedding. Or if you destroy souls via torture, make damn sure you have the lawyers for that righteousness when people find you've been torturing prisoners. The world seems so much clearer, doesn't it?[1]
And that might doesn't make right any more, is surely a relief for all of us. This means that those who can push the weak will not do so anymore. This means, of course, that an international court for war criminals will be accepted by President Obama and they will not try to except themselves from its purview. Never. That would be might making right. Nor would they do the same for their staunch ally in the region. No, when you shoot down a plane you can never get away with not allowing an investigation and with never apologizing.
So feel safe my fellow world citizens, the world is getting better by the moment. Celebrate and be joyous.  

[1]This isn't just America. Think about the land where iphones are being built and how they make the world a better place and how the monks in Tibet are so happy with all the building that they're burning themselves with joy (I think this is the official Chinese position).


Some other articles that might pique your interest (ostensibly on all matters global or books):#This one is on the global conflict of the West and Islam as seen through the lens of the Rushdie affair.#This one is a list of the five best science fiction novels out there. #This one is an article about drone warfare and its effects on the world.# This one is about reading news in today's world. The solution is that global is better.# This one is a list of the best books of the 21st century# This one is a list of the best books of the 20th century#This on is an article with links to matters of the Iraq war and players not commonly known.


My book: Ministry of Bombs is an exciting and unconventional take on the War on Terror.

Thanks for reading. As always, you can contact me at nlowhim@gmail.com if you have any questions or wish to discuss something. Look forward to hearing from you.

Thank you for reading, I understand how valuable your time is. If you found this story/musing interesting in any way, I would be grateful if you could share it. Getting the word out is an important part of growing my readership. You can sign up here to receive news and other goodies, such as free books (free shorts) here: http://eepurl.com/DX2In
Then Subscribe to my mailing list* indicates requiredEmail Address * First Name Last Name Email Format
htmltextmobile
And if you could give a reasonable tip using the donate button below, that would be greatly appreciated as well. All the best, and thanks again:

And, there's a new book out!

Thank you to all my readers for your patience. It has been a long and arduous journey for this little piece to come out, but it finally has (it's short, I'll admit that much). So here's the link to the book:I, Terrorist: The Top Secret confessions of a terrorist
Check it out today. If there are any sales, I'll be sure to let you know. Read below for the full blurb:

Names and Places and Accents have been changed to protect the innocent, and the damned.

This is a top secret story stolen from the dark belly of an intelligence agency, not to be named. Many governments do not want you to read this. They threatened several sites and newspapers to prevent you from reading this. So use this chance and read it right now.
What follows is not for the foolhardy nor for the light of heart. It's for those who appreciate the truth. Raw, uncensored truth. If you want to hide behind fairy tales, move along, nothing to see here.
What this book contains is the confession of one man, a terrorist, who decided to face up to an overwhelming power. Here he will dwell on the things that make some so willing to fight the good, though sometimes losing, fight.

Stolen by a member of an anarchist tribe in the NW Pacific, the original copy was a fragile pile of papers: blood and gunfights having taken their toll. That member died, but not before passing the papers off. The papers were then typed online, where as a file it had to avoid intelligence agencies' viruses and worms out to kill it and any computer it resided on. And now the file is here, the cover is all that remains of the original man. Take care, for this information is worth lives... 

On Isolation and the New Order

Alternate title: We're apes, remain vigilant.
One can never say that history doesn't have a sense of humor. On the centennial of WWI we're seeing what seems to be a shift to the violent in the world...
I was initially going to write this article to focus on the current cynicism and isolationist slant that America has taken (witness the unwillingness to do much about Syria). I was in favor of these stances that we Americans, tired of war, tired of spending money everywhere but at home, had taken (to the predictable dismay of our leaders).
In fact, I was going to tout this lean towards isolationism as a natural lean away from carrying out too many wars (and something our founding fathers were very concerned with) with a caveat: What about WWII? [1]. In other words, was our need for isolationism going to allow evil to happen in the world? Most Americans would not want this to happen, but they were wary about being entangled in another senseless war as well as the accompanying lies (and all-too-regular cries of evil).
But now there appears to be a danger of that isolationism dying off—at least in the corridors of American power and punditry (it's not yet certain if Americans are for these interventions). In other words, the machinery that helps us drive towards war is still alive and well. [2] As cynical as we Americans are, we will ask for action if there appears to be a threat to the homeland; so expect those in power (this will include most in the media as well) to keep ramping up the rhetoric and propaganda to wear down American cynicism. [3]
So what is my stance on isolationism? I take it as a healthy default for any nation, especially for one as powerful as ours. But when there is evil abroad, then we should indeed find ways to confront it (such as Rwanda). How can we accomplish that? [4]
That's where the new world order comes in, for it appears as if the events around the world are pointing to something dark on the horizon. [5] Not that things were always rosy, but they were cordial for quite some time. Since WWII we have not had a major fight between the world powers (though they did use proxies). Some of the causes could have been the result of dialogue in the United Nations (UN) or simply the fact that nuclear weapons, and the knowledge that there would actually be nothing to rebuild, stayed most hands from a full on fight (though some recent revelations show that not even this is certain, we came close to nuclear war on a few occasions).
Whatever the reasons, it appears as if we stand at a fork whereby we could try and reaffirm some of the principles behind dialogue and having world peace (to include international law as well as having a universal regard for human rights), or end up marching down a path like the one hundred years ago.
Am I talking about ISIS and their recent announcement of the annulment of the Pikes-Scott agreement that was also the result of that war 100 years ago? No. Though Islamic extremists make for frightening news or writing, I have no biases that they are the problem, rather that they are a symptom whose cause we need to confront before things get out of hand.[8]
The main cause are the mistakes the great powers are making (to include the winners of the last WW and the new rising powers from the colonial world) by moving away from the language of dialogue and coexisting, and moving towards that of the might makes right doctrine. When has this not been so, you ask? Perhaps never (yet official statements and dialogue in general would point away from such a belief). But with nuclear weapons on the table, we need to move towards a non-violent order as soon as possible.


“We’re actively considering what’s going to be necessary to deal with that threat, and we’re not going to be restricted by borders.”

The above is considered a sane quote from somewhere in the belly of Washington. When would this be acceptable if repeated by a weaker nation? I doubt that it would ever be. For such language, when used by all, will lead to more war and fighting (and why should only a handful of nations be allowed to use such language?). And in this situation, again might will make right. But what of stability? Of  law helping achieve that, as it does within many nations?
And when nations now know that having nuclear weapons will lead to a level of safety (see Ukraine, see many other nations), why should any of them stop trying to possess these weapons?  When more countries have these weapons do the chances for war go up or down? [6] I'm not sure, but there will surely need to be a new way to contain and discuss their use or even their threat. Laws, come to mind.
How do we get this change? We use our voices and we talk to our representatives in Washington so that they understand the want of all Americans: that we want peace. In other words we actually want national security, not power games. [7] But for now we sit at the edge of a new world taking over. Will we let history repeat itself?
Also relevant:Kissinger on the World Order& Chomsky on the most recent developments in the world.

[1] Anyone who knows me, or perhaps who follows any geopolitical talk here in the states must be wary of such comparisons (too many times we hear of the next Hitler and the need for intervention). After all, what of the isolationism (and even Europe's wont to avoid war at all costs) in the States that preceded that war, and the evil that was allowed to happen as a result of not using military power.
[2] Just take a look at any of the prevailing opinions and it seems to be taken as fact that groups like ISIS or even Putin is a danger to the American people.
[3] This will bring to the forefront that the reasons for a wrong war like Iraq being fought are still around. In other words (this is especially counts for my liberal friends who think that the Iraq war was a simple aberration of one wrong headed leader—it wasn't) that was a war symptomatic of many things that we as a nation still need to confront.
[4] When it comes to specters, none hangs above our heads like that of the Holocaust (as it should). It's taken as fact that we will/should stop the next one. But many genocides and attempts at them have occurred without us lifting a finger. And it appears that outside of verbal condemnation, there is no proper way to get an international consensus (in other words, our interests and the interests of the world must align for any of this to properly occur). And I should reiterate that the word evil itself is a tool of propaganda many times over.
[5] At this point I should mention that I have read much of the evidence for climate change and think that it's a definite issue we need to deal with and that the more it's delayed, the worse off we will be. And that anyone who studies conflict knows that a large part of the equation is resources and with more climate change (droughts and shifts causing a decrease in crops or water supply, as well as a simple increase in heat leading to more violence in general) we're going to see a higher amount of conflict.
[6] Two things when it comes to this discussion: One, mainly that it doesn't take much to twist the prevailing military view—if it's not already, and I believe that it's not—that nuclear weapons are merely another tool for fighting; two, that such were the horrors of the two dropped nukes that Japan gave up and the world moved towards not using these weapons; for the former, many historians know that it wasn't another ravaged city that forced Japan's hand, rather that it was more about the USSR joining the war, whereby Japan knew it couldn't manage some sort of peace.
[7] This is not withstanding the current theory that being weak in the world results in more evil occurring in that world. There is no evidence for this, merely confirmation bias at its worst. 
[8] I will get further into this Islamist reaction in the future. As an atheist I regularly hear others say things like this is why religion is bad (after seeing some violent action... ISIS comes to mind), without any acknowledgment of the violence perpetrated in these places by other powers and what that does to any group of people. 

Some other articles that might pique your interest (ostensibly on all matters global or books):#This one is on the global conflict of the West and Islam as seen through the lens of the Rushdie affair.#This one is a list of the five best science fiction novels out there. #This one is an article about drone warfare and its effects on the world.# This one is about reading news in today's world. The solution is that global is better.# This one is a list of the best books of the 21st century# This one is a list of the best books of the 20th century#This on is an article with links to matters of the Iraq war and players not commonly known.


My book: Ministry of Bombs is an exciting and unconventional take on the War on Terror.

Thanks for reading. As always, you can contact me at nlowhim@gmail.com if you have any questions or wish to discuss something. Look forward to hearing from you.

Thank you for reading, I understand how valuable your time is. If you found this story/musing interesting in any way, I would be grateful if you could share it. Getting the word out is an important part of growing my readership. You can sign up here to receive news and other goodies, such as free books (free shorts) here: http://eepurl.com/DX2In
Then Subscribe to my mailing list* indicates requiredEmail Address * First Name Last Name Email Format
htmltextmobile
And if you could give a reasonable tip using the donate button below, that would be greatly appreciated as well. All the best, and thanks again:
[image error]

On Isolation and the New Order

Alternate title: We're apes, remain vigilant.
One can never say that history doesn't have a sense of humor. On the centennial of WWI we're seeing what seems to be a shift to the violent in the world...
I was initially going to write this article as a question to the current cynicism and isolationist slant that America has taken (witness the unwillingness to do much about Syria). I was in favor of these stances we Americans, tired of war, tired of spending money everywhere but at home, have taken (to the predictable dismay of our leaders).
In fact, I was going to tout this lean towards isolationism as a natural lean away from carrying out too many wars (and something our founding fathers were very concerned with) with a caveat: What about WWII? [1]. In other words, will our current need for isolationism allow evil to happen in the world? I think most Americans would not want this to happen, but they are still wary about being entangled in another senseless war as well as the accompanying lies and regular cries of evil.
But now there appears to be a danger of that isolationism dying off—at least in the corridors of American power and punditry (it's not yet certain if Americans are for these interventions). In other words, the machinery that helps us drive towards war is still alive and well. [2] As cynical as we Americans are, we will ask for action if there appears to be a threat to the homeland, so expect those in power (this will include most in the media as well) to keep ramping up the rhetoric and propaganda to wear down that cynicism. [3]
So what is my stance on isolationism? I take it as a healthy default for any nation, especially for one as powerful as ours. But when there is evil abroad, then we should indeed find ways to confront it. How can we accomplish that? [4]
That's where the new world order comes in, for it appears as if the events around the world are pointing to something dark on the horizon. [5] Not that things were always rosy, but they were cordial for quite some time. Since WWII we have not had a major fight between the world powers (though they did use proxies). Some of the causes could have been the result of dialogue in the United Nations (UN) or simply the fact that nuclear weapons, and the knowledge that there would actually be nothing to rebuild, stayed most hands from a full on fight (though some recent revelations show that not even this is certain).
Whatever the reasons, it appears as if we stand at a fork whereby we could try and reaffirm some of the principles behind dialogue and having world peace (to include international law as well as having a universal regard for human rights), or marching down a path like the one hundred years ago.
Am I talking about ISIS and their recent announcement of the annulment of the Pikes-Scott agreement that was also the result of that war 100 years ago? No. Though Islamic extremists make for frightening news or writing, I have no biases that they are the problem, rather that they are a symptom whose cause we need to confront before things get out of hand.[8]
The main cause are the mistakes the great powers are making (to include the winners of the last WW and the new rising powers from the colonial world) by moving away from the language of dialogue and coexisting, and moving towards that of the might makes right doctrine. When has it not been so, you ask? Perhaps never (yet statements and dialogue in general would point away from such a belief). But with nuclear weapons on the table, we need to move towards a non-violent order as soon as possible.

“We’re actively considering what’s going to be necessary to deal with that threat, and we’re not going to be restricted by borders.”

The above is considered a sane quote from somewhere in the belly of Washington. When would this acceptable if repeated by a weaker nation? I doubt that it would ever be. For such language, when used by all, will surely lead to more war and fighting (and why should only a handful of nations be allowed to use such language?). And in this situation, again might will make right. But what of stability? Of  law helping achieve that, as it does within many nations?
And when nations now know that having nuclear weapons will lead to a level of safety (see Ukraine, see many other nations), why should any of them stop trying to gain more weapons?  When more countries have these weapons do the chances for war go up or down? [6] I'm not sure, but there will surely need to be a new way to contain and discuss them. Laws, come to mind.
How do we get this change? We use our voices and we talk to our representatives in Washington so that they understand the want of all Americans: that we too want peace. In other words we actually want national security, not power games. [7] But for now we sit at the edge of a new world taking over. Will we let history repeat itself?
Also relevant:Kissinger on the World Order& Chomsky on the most recent developments in the world.

[1] Anyone who knows me, or perhaps who follows any geopolitical talk here in the states must be wary of such comparisons (too many times we hear of the next Hitler and the need for intervention). After all, what of the isolationism (and even Europe's wont to avoid war at all costs) in the States that preceded that war, and the evil that was allowed to happen as a result of not using military power.
[2] Just take a look at any of the prevailing opinions and it seems to be taken as fact that groups like ISIS or even Putin is a danger to the American people.
[3] This will bring to the forefront that the reasons for a wrong war like Iraq being fought are still around. In other words (this is especially counts for my liberal friends who think that the Iraq war was a simple aberration of one wrong headed leader—it wasn't) that was a war symptomatic of many things that we as a nation still need to confront.
[4] When it comes to specters, none hangs above our heads like that of the Holocaust (as it should). It's taken as fact that we will/should stop the next one. But many genocides and attempts at them have occurred without us lifting a finger. And it appears that outside of verbal condemnation, there is no proper way to get an international consensus (in other words, our interests and the interests of the world must align for any of this to properly occur). And I should reiterate that the word evil itself is a tool of propaganda many times over.
[5] At this point I should mention that I have read much of the evidence for climate change and think that it's a definite issue we need to deal with and that the more it's delayed, the worse off we will be. And that anyone who studies conflict knows that a large part of the equation is resources and with more climate change (droughts and shifts causing a decrease in crops or water supply, as well as a simple increase in heat leading to more violence in general) we're going to see a higher amount of conflict.
[6] Two things when it comes to this discussion: One, mainly that it doesn't take much to twist the prevailing military view—if it's not already, and I believe that it's not—that nuclear weapons are merely another tool for fighting; two, that such were the horrors of the two dropped nukes that Japan gave up and the world moved towards not using these weapons; for the former, many historians know that it wasn't another ravaged city that forced Japan's hand, rather that it was more about the USSR joining the war, whereby Japan knew it couldn't manage some sort of peace.
[7] This is not withstanding the current theory that being weak in the world results in more evil occurring in that world. There is no evidence for this, merely confirmation bias at its worst. 
[8] I will get further into this Islamist reaction in the future. As an atheist I regularly hear others say things like this is why religion is bad (after seeing some violent action... ISIS comes to mind), without any acknowledgment of the violence perpetrated in these places by other powers and what that does to any group of people. 

Some other articles that might pique your interest (ostensibly on all matters global or books):#This one is on the global conflict of the West and Islam as seen through the lens of the Rushdie affair.#This one is a list of the five best science fiction novels out there. #This one is an article about drone warfare and its effects on the world.# This one is about reading news in today's world. The solution is that global is better.# This one is a list of the best books of the 21st century# This one is a list of the best books of the 20th century#This on is an article with links to matters of the Iraq war and players not commonly known.


My book: Ministry of Bombs is an exciting and unconventional take on the War on Terror.

Thank you for reading, I understand how valuable your time is. If you found this story/musing interesting in any way, I would be grateful if you could share it. Getting the word out is an important part of growing my readership. You can sign up here to receive news and other goodies, such as free books (free shorts) here: http://eepurl.com/DX2In
Then Subscribe to my mailing list* indicates requiredEmail Address * First Name Last Name Email Format
htmltextmobile
And if you could give a reasonable tip using the donate button below, that would be greatly appreciated as well. All the best, and thanks again:

[A city series] Better people have lost bigger bets

Once again I'm doing a series of stories from other writers. This one is from the lips of a friend of mine. He's given me permission to recreate the story here, straight from his mouth. Enjoy it:
" Better people than I have lost bigger bets "— A writer said this one day when I called his life plan foolhardy. When I heard it, it struck me, in an awkward way, as truth. Truth is hard to find these days, and when I see something even remotely close to it, I perk up. That time was no different, though it was swiftly overtaken by a harsh melancholy in my chest. The writer stating his reasons was no defeatist. He was usually chirpy—some would say never serious enough, and perhaps that was his undoing—but as he restated this, following my disapproval of his plan, I knew he was too serious.
You see my writer friend, James, was a little bit of a contrarian. I enjoyed having his humor around as we were both writers trying to make something of ourselves. James was fresh off a broken engagement with a gorgeous professional-type who, at the end of the day, couldn’t even bare to bring him around to her set of professional-type friends anymore.
I’d met these friends; all of them sterile, all of them exuding that upper middle class homogeneity that has become our city—they may be from around the world, but they all think the same. He claimed that he was tired of her, but I knew him for the romantic he was. He was surely heart broken. Hard for anyone to break it off from another human being with which there was some shared past and, the worst of it, a shared future.
Listen, you can’t just give up. I said.I’m not.
We were in a dive bar in the Bronx which was playing Reggaeton music as loudly as possible. I leaned in. His plan? Move to Barcelona with his meager savings, and when they ran out, he would hopefully find some sort of income—he wasn’t against being a criminal—and then when that ran out, or he didn’t have anything anymore, he would understand that all he had done had been for naught. And what then? Well, he would completely run out his money, run out his food, and not wanting to beg, he would walk out.
No, not leave and come back home with his tail between his legs. Yeah, leave like those old people of tribal lands who, once they knew they were a burden, would walk out into the wild and choose an honorable way to die. Yes. I wanted him to write about it, but he refused. 
As the music blared, and curvy Bronx women and men walked and danced by us, I felt sickened by the thought of the man in front of me walking off into the wild. Perhaps I too should have been planning the same as James. Being a veteran, I'd known those who gave it all up; and I agreed with James’ assessment of there having been better men losing bigger bets (I am not one of those people, I'm sure I'm going to win).
James is no slouch, tall, lanky but v-shaped and assured; he was attracting eye rolls from a few Latinas. I watched him look back as the smell of perfume as well as dirty carpet filled my thoughts. And I could think of nothing more than the fact that what he'd said was true: That there were great men in history who had lost bigger bets, who had even been forgotten. That they would always be forgotten and whatever meme and greatness they had would never be carried on to any of us.
And so he left that week, said he would email—he didn’t. Said he would send his writing—he didn’t. I haven’t heard from him since. I’ve wised up since then. Become more practical. Decided that becoming a part of the Empire is better than being trodden underneath. I help a security company  imprison people and keep them there, as well as make them more likely to recommit crimes so they end up back in our good graces. 
I hardly write except to whine about the world. Of course, I wonder about James and hope he found a mamacita in Barcelona. I doubt it, though. I haven’t read anything by him, and I assume that he would have run out of money by now. He’s probably dead in some beautiful wilderness. His body feeding the same things all our bodies will feed, but since it wasn’t done with the ritual I’m used to, I find it abhorrent to think about.
Nevertheless, he didn’t leave nothing behind. I still think on his wise words: that better people have lost bigger bets. Such is life, but where I was filled with dread before, I am now filled with humility (perhaps those are the same things). Yet there is also fear as I remember some other things that James told me:For our society is one where you will starve if you don’t provide something that is of worth to the others, there is no inherent value to many things—think bubble gum pop. That is simply the truth. And though it isn’t spoken, this is something that’s felt by everyone; this inherent run, rat race towards that which will allow you to live by the grace of the other people around you, no matter how 'bad' they may turn out to be. Think about it, James would say, pounding his finger dangerously hard into his temple. Think about suicides. Not the written ones, but the ones that happen as suicide by cop, or off a curve in the road. How many accidents are suicides? 
He would go on: Think about the many people being shed from our nation’s roll call. Think of all those bets that didn’t work out. Now think of the fucks with whom all these bets ended up working out. Nothing about our species works rationally, and all that is unspoken is based on fear. Therefore all that is remembered is fear. 
I should have stopped him then. He was obviously crazy. But I didn't. Now I wonder if I should have spoken up. Called his family or friends. And it is with this in mind that I have a heavy heart for my friend, James. For he has more talent and worked harder than I ever did, and he was the one who eventually walked off. Didn’t win his bet, but made his payment without complaints.


The End.... for now


Thanks for reading. As always, you can contact me at nlowhim@gmail.com if you have any questions or wish to discuss something. Look forward to hearing from you.
Want access to updates as well as free ebooks and shorts (like this one) that won't be available elsewhere, then sign up!


Then Subscribe to my mailing list* indicates requiredEmail Address * First Name Last Name Email Format
htmltextmobile[image error]

[A city series] Better people have lost bigger bets

Once again I'm doing a series of stories from other writers. This one is from the lips of a friend of mine. He's given me permission to recreate the story here, straight from his mouth. Enjoy it:
" Better people than I have lost bigger bets "— A writer I once knew said this one day when I called his life plan foolhardy. At that moment in time when I heard it, it struck me in an awkward way as truth. Truth is hard to find these days, and when I see something even remotely close to it, I perk up. That time was no different, though it was swiftly overtaken by a harsh melancholy in my chest. The man stating his reasons was no defeatist. He was usually chirpy—some would say never serious enough, and perhaps that was his undoing—but as he stated this, following my disapproval of his plan, I knew he was serious.
You see my writer friend, James, was a little bit of a contrarian and I enjoyed having his humor around. We were both writers trying to make something of ourselves. James was fresh off a broken engagement with a gorgeus professional who was, at the end of the day, couldn’t even bare to bring him around to her set of professional friends anymore.
I’d met these friends, all of them sterile, all of them the upper middle class homogeneity that has become our city. They may be from around the world, but they all think the same. He claimed that he was tired of her, but I knew him for the romantic he was. He was surely heart broken. Hard for anyone to break it off from another human being with which there was some shared past and, the worst of it, a shared future.
Listen, you can’t just give up. I said.I’m not.
He was giving up, but I didn’t push it. We were in a dive bar in the Bronx which was playing Reggaeton music as loudly as possible. I leaned in. His plan? Move to Barcelona with his meager savings, and when they ran out, he would hopefully find some sort of income—he wasn’t against being a criminal—and then when that ran out, or he didn’t have anything anymore, he would understand that all he had done had been for naught. And what then? Well, he would completely run out his money, run out his food, and not wanting to beg, he would walk out.
No, not leave and come back home with his tail between his legs. Yeah, like those old people of tribal lands who, once they knew they were a burden, would walk out into the wild and choose an honorable way to die. Yes. I wanted him to write about it, but he refused. 
As the music blared, and the curvy Bronx women and men walked and danced by us, I felt sickened by the thought of the man in front of me walking off into the wild. Perhaps I too should have been planning the same as James. Being a veteran, I'd known those who gave it all up; and I agreed with James’ assessment of there having been better men losing bigger bets (I was not one of those people, I'm sure I was going to win).
James is no slouch, tall, lanky but v-shaped and assured, he was attracting eye rolls from the Latinas in our neighborhood. The smell of perfume as well as dirty carpet filled my thoughts. And I could think of nothing more than the fact that what he'd said was true: That there were great men in history who had lost bigger bets, who had even been forgotten. That they would always be forgotten and whatever meme and greatness they had would never be carried on to any of us.
And so he left that week, said he would email, he didn’t. Said he would send his writing, he didn’t. I haven’t heard from him since. I’ve wised up since then. Become more practical. Decided that becoming a part of the Empire is better than being trodden underneath. I help a security company  imprison people and keep them there, as well as make them more likely to recommit crimes so they end up back in our good graces. 
I hardly write except to whine about the world. Of course, I wonder about James and hope he found a mamacita in Barcelona. I doubt it, though. I haven’t read anything by him and I assume that he would have run out of money by now. He’s probably dead in some beautiful wilderness. His body feeding the same things all our bodies will feed, but since it wasn’t done with the ritual I’m used to, I find it abhorrent to think about.
But he didn’t leave nothing behind. I still think on his wise words: that better people have lost bigger bets. Such is life, but where I was filled with dread before, I am now filled with humility. Perhaps those are the same things. Yet there is also fear as I remember some other things that James told me:For our society is one where you will starve if you don’t provide something that is of worth to the others, there is no inherent value to many things—think bubble gum pop. 
That is simply the truth. And though it isn’t spoken, it is something that’s felt by everyone. This inherent run, rat race towards that which will allow you to live by the grace of the other people around you, no matter how 'bad' they may turn out to be. Think about it, James would say, pounding his finger dangerously hard into his temple. Think about suicides. Not the written ones, but the ones that happen as suicide by cop, or off a curve in the road. How many accidents are suicides? 
He would go on: Think about the many people being shed from our nation’s roll call. Think of all those bets that didn’t work out. Now think of the fucks with whom all these bets ended up working out. Nothing about our species works rationally, and all that is unspoken is based on fear. Therefore all that is remembered is fear. 
I should have stopped him then. He was obviously crazy. But I didn't. Now I wonder if I should have spoken up. Called his family or friends. And it is with this in mind that I have a heavy heart for my friend, James. For he has more talent and worked harder than I ever did, and he was the one who eventually walked off. Didn’t win his bet, but made his payment without complaints.

Update

Update: Here's a recent article that's basically spot on the tribalizing of political news, and how to (for those of us simply looking for the truth) find good news when there's so much propaganda out there. Read it, share it. Indeed, it's filled with great possible solutions, though I'm not sure that one can focus on only one news source and maintain ties to it (perhaps I'm wrong, and support must be consolidated somewhere). You can read my original article here.

[OM] On Isolating Evil in today's world

Recent events around the world have brought up the question: What is evil? Is it the murder of a man by power drill? Is it a serial killer? Is it a bomb in a cafe? Is it the subjugation of a peoples for a vital mineral? I tend towards the I know it when I see it definition, though I know that's not always good enough. My friends, allow me to present you a story on this very subject:

I had a conversation recently with a famous professor in an Ivy League college. We were walking through the sparsely populated summer campus of his. The conversation was anchored in the issue of social dilemmas. We thought out several scenarios where apparently Malthusian effects had squeezed the population—deserts such as Somalia and the Middle East were the easiest to consider. Then the conversation turned to Iraq. He knew I had served in Iraq a few times and was interested to know what I made of the most recent developments there.

If you’re not sure to what he was referring; it was to the Mongols in the Middle East, also known as the ISIS, who were (and as of this note, still are) running through nation's armies like butter. Of course, most of the media around the world (this is an issue all the great & regional powers can unite behind) have used the modifying words of savage and brutal as much as they can, for this seems to be something people need: to see evil somewhere in the world.

With ISIS, instead of nuanced analysis what we’re getting are knee jerk reactions (and I’ll try to provide one of my own: that most recent proclamation of Al-Baghdadi—their leader—that all Muslims should bow to him will be his undoing) from our coveted fifth branch. During my more cynical moments, I only see them as absolutely needing to sell ISIS as the new evil (trademark) and scrambling over themselves to proclaim it as such to appeal to pull us into another war, pull more blood, pull more treasure. I, not wanting to be labeled some conspiracy kook, only said something about the oddity that was rebellion, and how when it takes the form of something violent we understand how married we are to the status quo, with all its inherent evils, when we reject this.

Thankfully, I mumbled this and I’m not sure that he heard me. I think he grasped on the evil word. And even though this was a man who mocked our previous President’s Axis of Evil comment, he was more than willing to accept the newest movement in the Arab world as evil. He was, of course, somewhat more vested in stability in that part of the world, as he would never want to see that region's heritage in ruins. No one can say much for the burning of the past, but it’s fair to say that it’s the future one should hold on tighter to. I didn’t say that either, as he maintained the current news media’s view that evil was afoot.

I tried to be as concerned as he sounded. This man did, after all, hold the keys to further my employment. He went on about how he watched a video by the ISIS and had been truly galvanized to help out our Empire (he said national security). I held my tongue when I wanted to ask him how many videos he had seen of the Empire attacking others. When you attempt to crush a world view—no matter how wrong that view is—you’ll forever be the villain. This professor, a genius of our times, had finally reached out to those in the Department of Defense (DOD) to do some research into isolating evil. He was certain it would be helpful in helping us defeat most of it in our world.

Normally I would have let this be, but he continued to say that evil was an innocuous thing and that if his research was to lead where he thinks it will lead, the social dilemmas we mentioned will be a thing of the past. My curiosity was piqued. I asked how this was possible.

He smiled and said something quixotic like evil whimpers when we make it. I pushed on to find out what he meant as I still wasn’t sure how evil came to play in something like an N-person prisoner’s dilemma. He told me that the grant he received from the DOD, who was happy with the results so far, was immense, and that soon there would be a breakthrough and things like ISIS would be a thing of the past and people wouldn’t have to cower in fear from such movements. He was working with several psychologists, medical research doctors, lawyers, and apparently some biochemists. He leaned in, this sun-spotted professor creature with blinking eyes and a yellowish grin, it’s here, he said.

Overstepping all boundaries that had been laid down in this friendship, or partnership, I asked him where could it possibly be. He examined me for a few moments then grunted and walked off. I followed. We took a staircase in a corner of the campus—my heart beat fast. Meanwhile, he was explaining where the lab was. It was created in the lose tunnels of the campus. Tunnels which had been shut down when student protests of the 60s used them to choke off the campus and forced the administration to bend to their needs. Useful needs, it turns out, but the tunnels were nevertheless closed for good. This professor had managed to have the tunnels and some dusty attached rooms opened for this experiment, seeing as it was national security and all. I’m still not sure if he was using that term facetiously or cynically or with the ardor of a true believer.

Finally we made our way to a large metal door. He placed his face in front of a retina scanner and a few moments later, the door hissed open. As old as it had looked from the outside, the door was state of the art technology. A beep went off when I passed by, but the professor placed an ID up to a scanner and typed something into a keyboard lodged in the wall. We walked down an empty hall before turning into a dark room. Mind you I had lost all of my curiosity and felt ill to my stomach by this point. I could smell the aged dust, the chlorine in dirty water drying, and something else more organic… something that made me shiver.

When the professor turned on the lights I saw rows of cages, no bigger than 5x5 feet, and inside each was a human. A few eyes cracked open and looked over at me. Some arms merely covered faces, and other bodies remained curled in the fetal position. My heart dropped as a handful of stifled whimpers echoed in that cold room.

These are the evil ones, the professor said, loudly and proudly. I looked around, still aghast. Every detail was clear, even the way the light flickered. The professor led me past the cages, explaining that these were the worst kind of evil, that they had a perfect measurement of evil in Guantanamo and that these men had all been given the stamp—fresh from capture from the ISIS ranks. It was not, he said, a stamp that was just bandied out, but one that was carefully applied only after a committee gave its full approval.

He took me to a smaller room where an evil man was strapped into a chair and was being monitored, his eyes closed, his face apparently peaceful. The professor informed me that the team he had working on this included some physicists who were creating, with some molecular biologists, nano-technology that would isolate the evil in the men and make them more pliable. It was experimental and they had lost some people already. Either way, the world would be a better place. But the professor was sure that the latter would be a minor proportion of the population since he had been able to, through some social media side-experiments, find the parts of the brain that are taken over by evil acts. Almost like possession, really. The nano-technology would attack these parts in a  person, so it wasn’t like it was attacking a human being, but rather the evil-isolate. The best part was that the technology transmitted itself as a virus and would be dropped into places where ISIS was wreaking havoc and those places would become more pliable. I’m not sure why he used that last word, but I nodded, feeling better.

I was ushered out soon after, with his attempts to turn the discussion back to social dilemma lost upon me. I’m not sure why, but my body and mind seemed to be in shock. It’s a weakness, but after reading more of the news I felt fully inoculated and understood why the professor was so happy, grinning really, about his experiment. Imagine, my friends, that after many false dawns technology will finally help us isolate and eliminate evil. Myself I’ve turned into a true believer, and have been listening to the news with glee, knowing that the ones who wreak evil will soon have it coming. And all those (at times this has been me) who have doubted our national security apparatus will be put to shame when these experiments yield results.


Update (as usual sometimes the best thoughts come after someone goes through a harsh experience, and I feel I need to explain my silence):
I’m not going so far as to say I condone the act of holding a man as a prisoner, forcing him to become an experimental rat; and now that I remember it, I remember the moments where I first saw one of the men, sensed suffering wafting off his skin, in his groans, and I thought about telling the professor to stop, to never even attempt to keep at this again. But I remembered what I had been thinking about ISIS. That they were nothing more than the violent reaction to oppressive states or actions of Empire. And I also remembered that I lived in an Empire, or the result of it, and very much enjoyed my life, and the fruits of luxury.

This doesn’t only include the material goods that come from all around the world: I don’t like the Congo, but I will never give up the precious metals that create my smart phone, or other items, to say nothing of the freedom of speech—the only reason we could even have such a conversation—which seems to require the oppression of some peoples or another. I felt this, knew it to be true, and decided that it is the great destiny of all civilizations to tread upon others. It simply cannot be avoided. And if the point of all civilizations is not to further human knowledge, then I’m not sure what you think it’s all for. And this man in a basement, he is surely the embodiment of the sacrifices we must make to march forward.

And to that end, I thought about what ISIS was: it was not the furthering of human knowledge, no it was the suffering of people for an ideal that would do nothing. In other words, they too have men suffering in basements, but without furthering knowledge of anyone. And I also remembered that recently all great powers seem to be united to destroy this element in the world. Surely it wasn’t the fact that all great Empires (or aspirants thereof) use language like this—savage, evil—to merely achieve something. No, it is that advancement of civilization that requires such words.

And I also knew then, as I stared at the man, surely the incarnate of evil, that ISIS was something that needed to be eliminated, not because I had received the facts about the group, but because there were no facts (why is that? Because the likes of ISIS don’t want journalists around for they are against the truth, these Islamic extremists) and I know to trust those in charge, even if they seem to err on the side of hyperbole or propaganda, when information is scarce. Surely they have more information (secret) about the matter.

In that line of thought, one needs to rely on the heuristics that make one a human, and citizen of said nation, and go with the gut feeling that comes from the vile acts that the members of ISIS have committed. And if one goes further (perhaps a little seditiously) and decides to judge the situation using historical precedent, looking into human nature as something of an organism like any other, then one still sees ISIS as something vile. They are, after all, the descendants of those barbarians and violent nomads who would ever tear down civilization whenever they could. They would be those who can or could tear down the things that I knew and loved. This is why studying those like the man in that basement, to see what makes the rebel tick, this is why it’s important.

What else could I have said to the professor? Chastise him for the pinprick of discomfort I felt while he furthered human knowledge? No, the proper reactions are as follows: to understand the side you’re on, where the fruits you enjoy come from, and to help that side continue.

Some other articles that might pique your interest (ostensibly on all matters global or books):#This one is on the global conflict of the West and Islam as seen through the lens of the Rushdie affair.#This one is a list of the five best science fiction novels out there. #This one is an article about drone warfare and its effects on the world.# This one is about reading news in today's world. The solution is that global is better.# This one is a list of the best books of the 21st century# This one is a list of the best books of the 20th century#This on is an article with links to matters of the Iraq war and players not commonly known.


My book: Ministry of Bombs is an exciting and unconventional take on the War on Terror.

Thank you for reading, I understand how valuable your time is. If you found this story/musing interesting in any way, I would be grateful if you could share it. Getting the word out is an important part of growing my readership. You can sign up here to receive news and other goodies, such as free books here: http://eepurl.com/DX2InAnd if you could give a reasonable tip using the donate button below, that would be greatly appreciated as well. All the best, and thanks again:

[OM] Familial concerns (Writing Madness)

I've recently spent some time reading about literature (as opposed to reading it), and one splendid book on African literature is Writing Madness: Borderlines of the Body in African Literature by Veit-Wild. This book takes a look at writers in Africa and how being on the border of their given nation's government (be it colonial or post) forced them to write in such a way as to convey this madness (I'm not doing it any justice here, but there is a great explanation in the book on how people who are in the fringes of any society are indeed mad (driven there, considered, or otherwise).
, who writes some great stories). So finding that in addition there was a complex view on madness, or how those in power view those on the fringes was a great surprise.
In fact, it got me to thinking about how madness can be seen in everyday life and how we ignore it. Living in New York one sees plenty of homeless people. Some seem to be going about their daily business, though others are notably "out of it", or mad. These people, either yelling about religious matters or are dressed in a way that seems designed to provoke (sometimes with colors or letters on paper hanging off them), while others seem otherwise normal, but apparently in a bad stretch of luck. One man promises to write poems for a set amount of money. It's the ones like the latter who stir the most inside me (not of empathy, but in another way) since they seem hardly removed from the people in a home. I always wonder what they did to gain such a lot in life.
Same thing goes for artists in the past who were talented but not recognized. Some like Zamyatin died in obscurity after they were exiled for their creations, while others were never even recognized until much later. In a way they are in the fringes. In a way that is a sort of madness. And this all this thinking about madness led my mind to madness within a family, or more specifically within my family. But in that sense many families are much the same, with their own quirks, each bordering on madness. That most families (that I know of) which have lasted long enough to have stories are usually safe from complete madness (something that tends to limit a family's tendency to continue the line), but they have some of it somewhere (perhaps it's something to do with the diversity inherent in our biology); and since most people I know aren't rich enough to completely hide madness, stories about one mad relative or another abound.
What follows is a story from a friend of mine, Gerad, who has never told a lie. He hails from a family that is only just recently off the boat; from a country I cannot pronounce or place on a map. He also is a graduate of a highly respected institute of higher education and is currently pursuing a tenure at a smaller college. That, however, might make him truly the madman of his family, especially when one considers how rigged the tenure track is towards having cheap labor (and hence he's only a lecturer).  I have, of course, changed names when needed to protect the innocent. All that follows is exactly as Gerad spoke it (with his permission):
I have a cousin, Tim, who I had to babysit once. Not so much babysit, for the young man was nearing an age where he could care for his own food and water and what not, but more that he was  not trusted by his parents for reasons I'll explain. Now, I was not privy to these matters. You see my parents and Tim’s parents are from a generation where it is expected to keep things from those in the younger generations. I don't like this. But perhaps when the moment comes to divulge family secrets to my children (of which I have none) I too will hesitate; either because I don’t trust them, or I will feel the weight of the secrets and imagine that any other being made of at least 50% me wouldn’t be able to bear such a burden.

They would ask questions about the Tim, in my presence, that denoted concern and were without enough information for me to penetrate what the specific reasons were. Example: Mother: How is he? (Cue worried voice and tragic face). Aunt: We don’t know, we just… we’re trying. I was wary that they would speak ill of the Tim, who had always seemed bright and at the least somewhat kind. Most of the other stories about the madmen in my family were filled with harsh and mean men (it was always men, though sometimes spinsters would get the same treatment) and their foolhardy conquests of intellectual or real lands that were unconquerable or harsh attacks on our own family members. None of these people brought good to the family name, and were usually mental and financial burdens on all around them (the latter was especially emphasized).

So I walked into the house, bid the young Tim goodbye and settled down to get some work done.  Tim, not yet in his teens, but achieving awkwardness with eyes that wouldn’t stay on anyone speaking to him, decided to play video games in the room next to me. He asked me to look. I remember being little and not having adults who cared for the video games I played, and watched as he stalked grown men from rooftops in some long ago past, while a knife in his hand turned on guard’s throats as they screamed out in half-muffled and a-tad-too-realistic cries. I nodded, smiled, and decided that I should get to know this Tim of mine. I asked him if he was enjoying school—a horridly unimaginative question that I hated as a child and teen, but now that the roles were reversed, I couldn’t see anything else that would make sense as a question—I surely didn’t want to ask him about the video game and gain an earful about something I didn’t care to ever discuss.

He didn’t seem as perturbed as he could have been, and talked about a couple classes which he found to be somewhat interesting. Math and something or the other. I observed him a little too much as he talked, and he squirmed some. I laid my eyes on the TV instead, but that only increased his nervousness.

From his outside looks, baby-faced with a black mop on top, he seemed normal. But there was something in his eyes that reminded me of dreamers. We’d had a few dreamers in my family, both sides from what I hear, and none of their stories have ever ended well. Usually, they’re looked at with a mix of romanticism—at least the beginning of their stories—and disdain, for what they failed to achieve: never anything in the name of technical weighable achievements, which our technocratic family demanded and never any families.

Tim then asked me about what it was I was doing. I told him that I was writing, and could see his face fill with a dread and worry about the line of work I had chosen. Which meant he was most likely normal in our family. I nodded my head when silence reigned and went back to what I was doing.

I looked up periodically, to see that Tim was staring at the pause screen of the video game. After some time, I looked up and he was gone, the screen still paused with a man leaping from a rooftop, a dark medieval skyline stretching out in the distance, and a guard on the bottom of the screen about to turn around. I could smell macaroni and cheese cooking and I decided that Tim was perfectly fine for this world.

Funnily enough, my mother called, and after she asked, hushed and worried, about how Tim was doing, I scolded her for worrying about the kid, and possibly warping him with that worry. The pause and sigh that followed told me that she was disappointed in me, again, like she had been so many times before. Then she started to worry about me, asking what I was doing to gain a real career or push my bosses for a promotion and all. I curtly answered and decided that I should stay out of family affairs—like I had promised myself when I was just turning 18. I hung up after my mother grew tired of analyzing what I had done wrong, and went back to my writing.

Except now I couldn’t write anything because I could feel, sense, a discomfort that churned up my guts. At this point I realized that it was quieter than normal. I looked up and saw Tim staring straight at me from another room. At first I was disturbed, then a waft of pride came over me, then worry.
I asked him what he was doing.

He blinked then disappeared. I thought about going after him, but yelled instead. He didn’t return an answer. I went back to trying to write, but nothing came to the page. My mind was darting about: on the conversation with my mother, on the myriad of things that could have gone wrong in my life, on things that I couldn’t ever control (but the ones that I could control it would appear that I did incorrectly). I decided to read Borges, Ficciones to be exact. For a few moments I lost my place in that Argentinian's world and was taken away. For dorks like myself reading has always been an escape of the highest level.

But at this point I felt that same churning of my stomach, which spread to my chest, then my head. I looked up. Again, Tim was staring at me. This time he didn’t look away, but held my stare until I was scared. I growled at him.

He nodded and came over, sitting across from me. After a few moments of silence, I let out a sigh. There must have been something to worry about, otherwise why was he acting this way? Then, like a ghost, a memory rushed through me. It had been a few months ago when there was an impromptu family reunion, there had been a fight between my parents and his. During this altercation Tim grew from that bright eyed creature full of curiosity to one of complete dejection. He yelled out something indiscreet and asked: Why do I have to be here, why can’t I be there? This statement did not meet any receptive ears, and our parents exchanged worrying looks—though at least they stopped arguing.

Now, looking at Tim, I sensed that something about him wasn’t just wrong, it were as if a part of him wasn’t around, wasn’t here. I remembered that as a young child he had an issue with craning his neck to stare at clouds, the sky, ceilings, so much so that he had to visit a doctor to get it fixed. Was that what my family had been whispering about? I then tried my hardest to maintain eye contact with him. He twisted his leg before returning my stare.

I asked him what he wanted. After he mumbled a bit, I discerned that he looked up to me, so I acted kinder. Finally he told me he had something to show me. He turned and walked. I got up and followed. He led me to the basement door before pausing and looking at me. He twisted the knob and into the darkness we descended.Not to be completely dramatic, but we entered the basement, no lights, except for a few lamps lighting up the top of a long desk. On it were wires made into a cube-matrix. I stood across from Tim, watching as he rested his hands on the desk, his nervousness now showing up as tremors in his fingers. I asked what it was and with a heavy sigh he explained the game he was inventing or at the worst bringing out from obscurity. It was a 3-Dimensional-go game, a variation of that ancient Chinese game that made chess look like child’s play. The 2-Dimensional version, that is. That anyone could look at that game and think that they needed a harder (as I would assume the 3d game would be) version was beyond me.

Tim proceeded to explain he game and the reason he made it and how he had made it a playable version of the 2-D original with a series of mumbles, spittle and stutters. Awkward he was, but I managed to grasp a few words between the noises his body was making, and decided that perhaps this one of our family wasn’t so bad, that he was at least trying to be original and in a world like the one we’re living in here in this 21st century and on, originality isn’t the entire death knell that it once used to be, especially when it’s applied to something like games.

So he went on and on about how he saw this game as an all new way to make the mind smarter, something about how it would allow those who have a grasp of it to program better or solve other problems because of its multi-connectivety (its rules would be same: in that a stone when placed down—here it would be clipped on—would be taken off if all of its free spots were taken, and a group of stones needed two eyes; the main difference being that a stone when placed is connected to 6 other spots instead of 4). He explained how he had the stones (here a 3-D ball that could be clipped into place) interact with the cube (wired up to be a 7x7x7 cube) via a small electronic switch which would light up the adjacent connections to the immediate points nearby via LED lights that showed what was nearby. This allowed one to better see which groups were where. Therefore instead of having black and white stones, he had red and blue, so that if two stones next to each other were of opposing colors, they would light it up and emit a green color.

I nodded my head, impressed. I asked him if he had played a game. He said thousands. I asked with whom. He stared at his contraption until he was sweating. I realized that I may have crushed his trust and decided to tell him that he was brilliant, and that this was one of the more amazing things I had seen (cutting myself off before saying for someone of your age). It was. I asked if he wanted to play a game.

Stuttering, he rudely said that he didn’t bring me here to play games. Hurt, I held back since he was too young to know that what he was saying was offensive. I asked him what he wanted to show me. Again he stared at his contraption.

It’s there, he said and jerked his head towards a dark corner of the basement. I hesitated. Not one to be superstitious anymore, not at this age, not when life throws worse things than any comic book at you, I felt the grip of evil. Tim grabbed my wrist. He was stronger than he looked.

He told me that he wasn't crazy. I knew this wasn’t going to be good. Then he started to go into a whole confession (that's what it sounded like) about where he got this idea for 3-D go and other such things. It was from a peoples who were living in a world which he accessed by from various points in the basement. That corner he pointed, and seeing a glowing orb of light, unlike any other, I froze in place. He continued to describe this almost alien world where the people were kind to each other and only cared about that and maybe the ideas that one could come up with, no matter how crazy those ideas were.
He went on to say that they may not speak a language close to what he spoke, but it was a perfect place to escape and that he could get away from the pressures that his parents placed on his head everyday. Not only this, but the cities where they lived, alien furnaces provided the only light as their original planet had been burned out by a supernova long ago and they were forced to live on a dark rock in the corner of a darker galaxy. The trees in these cities were crystal and extended farther than the eye could see.

And I knew then that I had been wrong to accuse my parents and his parents of having been overly-worried. I bit my lower lip and nodded my head slowly as Tim went on. Memories and pieces of knowledge I had suppressed floated to the top. Our family had had a handful of people who had nearly been institutionalized. Every generation had one, though since this most recent generation had fewer kids I'd been hoping that it was all over, that the gene had been routed, or that there were too few kids for there to have been any chance for the gene to arise again. But now I knew it wasn’t. I felt fear for this relative who was out in the fringes, amazing game invented or not.

I respectfully declined to see the magic corner of his. Why? Because I too had a handful of the same quirks he did. What if I saw what he did? Surely the gig was up for me. So I did what any normal person would. I was as nice to him as possible and in the end I decided to ignore that wing of the family for as long as possible, only helping to feed the rumors so that something would be done about Tim. I knew then what madness was. It was a decrepit disease, not some inherent trait, and I would have to try my hardest to keep it out of my system. I also understood that the fight with madness was the fight for the preservation of civilization. That's when I switched my field of study from literature to computer science.

And that's the story. I never heard any updates from Gerad about what became of his cousin.