September 3rd, 2016

(no subject)

Okay, I'm trying to write a scene, and it's being hard.

A bunch of anarchists are having a meeting. They're largely good people of good intentions, but they haven't thoroughly thought those intentions through. One of their number is proposing to bomb something.

An invited outsider speaks up. He is in full agreement with their motives, and has objections to the proposed course of action. He thinks it won't accomplish what they want it to, that the costs of doing so would be much higher than they think and far higher than the benefits of taking the action, and that the hoped-for benefits are illusory.

He further suggests that they haven't thought their motives through, and that there are at least two different motive-sets involved -- having a successful revolution, and blowing shit up. He's in favor of both -- but feels that they have to be *considered* separately, lest the *wrong* shit get blown up, or get blown up in the wrong way, or what have you.

And I want the scene to come out so that *they* understand and reciprocate his real and actual respect for them.

I hope to achieve this in 600 words or less. There are 19 characters in the room; fifteen anarchists, the speaker, the two fellow-travelers who invited the speaker, and the building owner.

Dying. Or not.

A friend here posted about "wanting to die."

Everybody's experience is different, and at the same time I feel this is one of those points on which I've got more than most. So my question is "What do you think death is?"

My own experience of it is as a visceral damping/straightening. Wildly oversimplifying, I am a wiggling line, and Something is trying to grab one end of the line and pull it straight out, which will stop all of the vibration that is Me. (So I kicked it. Enough kicks, and it decided to be elsewhere.)

Experiences? If not, thoughts?

Clarification: My *own* experience of death is such that *if* that is the same thing someone else is talking about, it's a real stretch for me to imagine *wanting* it. So my conjecture is that someone who *wants* death probably has a conception of it that is markedly at variance with my own experience. If that's so, what is it?

Conversation with Dad, and why it's not happening

It's hard to tell, because Dad is famous for not talking in the first place. Kinda like trying to figure out if Calvin Coolidge is snubbing you.

I *think* what's going on is that I haven't become the archetypal Captain of Industry. Or Grand High Boss of whatever; what it *is* doesn't matter, as long as I'm on top of it. Dad got fantastic naches out of joining the Young President's Club, the requirement for membership being to be the president of a multi-million-dollar company before you're 40. I didn't do that.

Dad is not a simple man; if I had some other demonstrable success that he could understand I think he'd be proud of that. I had one, for a while; the polyclan I'd built. But then Gail went toxic, and I asked Dad for help, and he bailed on me. So now that whole episode of my life can't exist as far as he's concerned, because if it *did*, then he'd have to acknowledge failure.

Besides, that episode ended fifteen years ago. What have I done *since* then?

I took 3 years off. Reasonable, not a problem, but also not an accomplishment.

I tried to build family with Laura. I succeeded in building *friendship* with her, but *family* didn't gel. I love Laura and find her a positive presence in my life, albeit more distantly than I'd prefer. I'm like that.

I keep turning the crank, and things keep happening, but I haven't set a target for a success and achieved it. And I think Dad needs to see that in order to be happy, and I really wouldn't mind having it myself. But it's still more important to be turning the *right* crank in the *right* direction than have something come out the business end *now*.

It's a sad thing. I'd like to give him more naches, but if he's picky about the form, I can't accommodate that.