You’ll Notice some changes around here

Ok, so, you may be noticing some changes to the blog soon if you haven’t already.

1. I have gone to a “private” setting so I can better mod things on here. (People seem to think I’m a “dbag” and an “ahole.” (My gut response is to say **** you haters, but…well, I’m trying to make money here, lol.)

2. If you like the changes, let me know.
3. If you don’t…let me know. *grits teeth*
4. I have all the things linked. If a link is broken, TELL ME!
5. If anything at all doesn’t work (a video, a stream, a telekinetically thrown goat, etc. etc. etc.)… LET ME KNOW!
6. Don’t be a dbag to me or others on here.
7. I have the final say in who is a douche and who isn’t…MWHAHAHAHA. This isn’t a democracy, this isn’t a “cheerocracy” (as Chuck Wendig put it *wink wink nudge nudge*), this is a Pagan Republic.
8. All that being said…
9. HAVE FUN.
10. BE SAFE.

11. …VOICE YOUR OPINIONS!

I Return

If anyone noticed my absence, I apologize for said disappearance. I am back with every intention of sticking around.

I’ve been busy being too lazy to write. Yes, that is my excuse and I’m sticking to it. Seriously, though, I simply haven’t felt like writing. I wouldn’t really call it “writer’s block” as I don’t believe in that particular boogeyman. Still, its been hard for me to think of anything I feel is worth saying. My readership here is yet fairly small, but it still bothers me to come on and ramble about nothing as I am doing now.

In any event, I always feel much better about things when I am writing actively, so here I am. Currently I am looking for a job. So, if anyone knows of some openings in the Mechanicsburg area of PA…let me know please! Haha. “Good luck” right?

Still, I’ve not lost hope that soon I might be paid to write. Hopefully, I’ll find something that allows me to exercise my creativity at the very least. If I cannot find a writing job (freelance or something, perhaps) I suppose I’ll have to be happy stumping through yet another minimum wage part time job.

Back to the topic of writing: Camp NaNoWriMo is fast approaching. I’m considering what my goal might be for it and I’m thinking it will be to actually get some editing done on my first novel. I’ve been putting off the editing for far to long and I don’t even know why. So, wish me luck in getting that manuscript edited and ready for either submission to some publishing house or self-publication!

Thanks for reading and have an unbelievable day!

In Earnest,

King Pollux ~ Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King

A White Boy in Downtown – Part 2: At the Trashcan Fire That First Night

I drove my 2001 Chevy Cavalier with the hanging passengerside headlight bulb and smashed bumper to downtown Fresno for the first time (other than for Jury Duty) in late January of 2012.

Why? You might ask. Why would a relatively affluent male WASP (white, anglo saxon, protestant) suddenly decide to go into such a dangerous, impoverished, and crime-ridden area?

Well, I suppose the root cause, dear reader, stretches back deterministically all the way to my childhood. So, because a life-story isn’t really necessary in this context, let’s just leave it at this: I wanted to try LSD or some other kind of “mind-expanding” drug in order to increase my creative and spiritual abilities.

What did I find in Downtown? Well, let’s find out together as I cast myself back in memory and time.

---

After an initial unsuccessful sojourn yesterday I know pretty much how to find free parking in the heart of Downtown. Passing the drab, dark stature of the Fresno Superior Courthouse and jails, streetlights play beautifully off the white paint of my Cavalier’s butt-imprinted hood. Occupy Fresno tents and signs lay, seemingly abandoned, to my right on the sidewalk of the Courthouse park.

I continue on smoothly thanking the Gods traffic isn’t horrific this time of night in Fresno. Sure, other cars pass by, but I’m so excited and anxious about attempting to buy an illicit substance from a genuine drug dealer for the first time that I just smile and crank the radio.

Brighter lights burst off the windshield and I squint a little before my eyes adjust. “CLUB ONE,” screams the casino sign on the corner of Tulare and old Van Ness. I smile more widely as the Chevy glides past into the relative darkness of Fulton Mall.

Once to H Street, I turn right. Finding an empty parking space is easy in Chinatown. No one really wants to be there other than bangers, hustlers, patrons, residents, and the owners of the shops and restaurants it seems.

I greet and pass by the few that are out in the area at this time. On my way down toward the deep dark of the industrial park on the North I begin to feel even more excited. I walk faster, both to stave off the chill of the night and the jitters of slight fear. Eventually I come across an old black gentleman.

I mention I am looking for LSD and he waves for me to come along. We walk toward the “Pov,” the Poverello House for the homeless and jobless, and I continue to make conversation. The man claims it is only about twenty for the tab of acid and I will have to stop. He succeeds in scaring me into staying away from the Poverello house.

I wait for half an hour just around the corner, hiding in the shadows of houses and trees lining the grungy, trash-heaped sidewalks. When I realize I’ve been played, I decide to venture around the corner.

Passing around the bend in the road to the left I am greeted by a dark street with what appears to be several squat encampments. Closest to me are clearly Mexican and Chicanos. I walk down the street toward the end of the Poverello house and its gates. I am hailed by a large, tall black man who I can’t see properly in the light of a washer-tub fireplace.

Apparently wearing a black leather jacket was a poor choice.

“You a cop white boy?” the man demands in a deep, booming voice.

“Fuck no, man. I’m just trying to score some acid,” I say.

I am invited to join the huddled people around the fire. Subjected to questions and scrutiny I am shortly asked to snort a tiny bump of coke from a key to prove that I am no police officer.

The coke is somewhat gross because of the drip, but it isn’t as repulsive as I heard it was.

After taking the little hit of cocaine, Teardrop, as I now know the first tall man to be, insists that even an undercover cop might snort coke. He demands I try crack. Perhaps it was the cocaine beginning to hit, but I feel very good and invincible. Shrugging, I take the pipe and follow his instructions.

I hold the lighter a little bit from the end of the “horn” and begin to inhale. It doesn’t taste bad at all. Except for a chemical flavor there isn’t much taste at all aside from an afterglow of butteriness.

It hits immediately and I understand why people enjoy the feeling, but the hit was no where near my best of the beginning days of my travels into Downtown. I feel faster, more intelligent, and elated. This is a form of flying.

I spend a few hours with Teardrop, just driving around to various hoods and to the motels. I am not offered another hit of crack the rest of that first night. Teardrop seems to want to keep me off the stuff when he realizes I truly had never tried the junk before.

After around 2 in the morning I announce it is time to go home. Teardrop demands I drop him back off at his particle board shanty and I do so before hitting the freeways to go home.

Family History Research

So, I’ve always been intrigued by genealogy and family histories.

I recently got a membership for Ancestry.com where I’d only had trials before and I’m finding some epic family history.

Little Background:

My mother’s maiden name is Walkingstick. My full name, as my profile states, is Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King.

I am descended from this man directly, and am DAMN proud of the fact.

My ancestors (being Cherokee) fought the Eastern Creeks alongside Andrew Jackson before he was president. Then, upon returning home, they found their homeland ravaged, their women raped, and their children kidnapped or killed.

Anyone question why I am so violently and addictively Anarcho-collectivist now?

In Earnest,

Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King
AKA King Pollux, Lost Prince of the Old East Cherokee Nation

P.S. Anyone know how to get a Dawe’s Roll number quickly and simply?

Also, in case you were unable to see the content of the link above because you are not a member at Ancestry.com, here is the story (NOTE: I did not write this, it is the property of the users at ancestry.com)

Udalvnusti “U-Da-Lv-Nu-Sti”, is translated from the native Cherokee language to English as Walkingstick.The Walkingstick family ancestry is traced from the Eastern to Western Cherokee Nations. The earliest records originating during the destruction of Keowe, including several other South Carolina Cherokee settlements in the late 1700’s.
Walkingstick was still a boy when he came to the south side waters of Hightower in northeast Georgia. He was raised on Crawfish Creek about 15 miles from the old Hightower Town settlement in Forsyth County, Georgia. Walkingstick was a contemporary of the noted Cherokee leader White Path, and the two lived very near each other and engaged in similar campaigns for the Cherokee people.
When General John Sevier marched an Army into the Cherokee Nation in 1792, Walkingstick was one of a party of about 100 Cherokees who embodied to meet General Sevier and engage him in battle to save the Keowe villages in South Carolina, but they arrived too late.
General Sevier and 700 militiamen from Tennessee destroyed the villages along the Etowah River, and won a battle against the Cherokees there. Many of the women and children were killed, as most of the warriors were away engaging other white encroachments on Cherokee land.
The Cherokee and the Creek tribes had long been bitter enemies. When the Creeks sided with the French in the War of 1812, the Cherokees’ services were sought by the United States to aid in defeating the French and their allies. The Cherokees were only too willing to go against the Creeks and gain favor with the U.S. Government. This in turn began the Red Stick War. The climatic battle that ended the war occurred at Horseshoe Bend on the Tallapoosa river in present day Alabama. On March 1814, the Creeks held out against overwhelming forces at the Horseshoe Bend. Despite constant bombardment and fire their defenses could not be breached. Suddenly, a turkey gobble was heard, the Cherokee war cry then filled the air, the Cherokees had managed to swim the river and outflank the Creeks. The battle raged for hours as the Cherokees had turned the tide against the Creeks. The proud Creeks would give no quarter and asked for none in return. They were killed to the last man. Walkingstick was one of the Cherokees that fought at the battle of Horseshoe Bend in aiding Andrew Jackson quell the Creek uprising. In the aftermath, 557 Creek warriors lay dead. The Americans lost 32 with 99 wounded, and the Cherokees had lost 18 and 36 wounded. Moreover, one of the dead is listed to be the son of Walkingstick. Upon the conclusion of the battle, Walkingstick and the other Cherokees were discharged from the service of the U.S. armed forces. When returning home they found their country ravaged, pilfered and destroyed by the returning militia they had so willingly fought alongside. They found their homes and families had suffered much more from the hands of their white allies than from their enemies the Creeks. It’s hard to imagine the returning warrior Walkingstick bringing his dead son home to his wife only to find the soldiers pilfered their homes, stole their horses, etc. Unfortunately, this great victory propelled Andrew Jackson into the national spotlight and furthered his political career to the highest office in the land. Little were the Cherokee to know then the scheming treachery Jackson was capable of in his tenure as president, for Jackson turned a deaf ear to the Cherokees petitions to stay in their native lands. One of the Cherokee leaders said of him, “If I had known then (what treachery he was capable of) I would have killed him myself that day at Horseshoe Bend. At the end of the Creek War, Walkingstick increased his land holdings and became proficient in the ways of agriculture and business under the ever increasing white population. Note: In 1819, an unknown Walkingstick signed up for removal to the Western Cherokee Nation in Eastern Arkansas and Missouri. He later recanted his decision and remained in the Eastern Cherokee Nation. In the year 1821, Walkingstick settled on Sweetwater Creek about 10 miles from Buzzards Roost in what is now the western edge of Dalton, Georgia. In 1822, Walkingstick is a listed member and official for the Cherokee Republican Government representing the village of Hickory Log under Chief Path Killer. Elitsayi “E-li-tsa-yi” or Elijay was a larger traditional trading settlement in the old Cherokee Nation in what is now north Georgia. Walkingstick held an immense prestige in the area of Elitsayi, and he ranked high in the councils of his people as a diplomat between the Cherokee and the white man’s government. By the time of the removal to Oklahoma Territory in 1838, Walkingstick was the headman of the village of Elitsayi. Walkingstick along with a son are buried in the old family cemetery one mile south of Eluay. The grave plot today is in the Gold Kist Poultry Company parking lot. There are no stones to mark their graves. Only some old cedar trees are left to mark where the old warrior and statesman lies.

Men vs Women | Crossing the Divide

Ohhhhh that I could send an owl!

Its hilarious because my twin sis and I sat here and read OM’s post and both had very similar or identical reactions to yours! Lmao.

GREAT POST Vic! Four thumbs up! 😀 Reblogging and sharing now!

In Earnest,

King Pollux ~ Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King

vic briggs

Let’s Talk Opinion in conversation with OM

I was rather surprised to discover today that I am not a woman after all. I may look like one, but try as I much as I may, I was unable to identify with the “typical” female behaviour described by OM in his recent post about Those things women do… Perhaps it is a matter of perspective or perhaps I’ve been too busy juggling the daily challenges of existence to find time to fit into the required mould. Or perhaps… it was an accident of birth and I was allocated the wrong gender? This will not do.

Now… I know that OM’s posts are often tongue-in-cheek, so my reply ought to be allowed to be in kind. What do women do exactly? Here are OM’s findings:

They “Ask where something is before actually looking for it first.”

Yep. My grandpa used to do this a…

View original post 1,510 more words

Why Modern Activism Is Often Merely Lip Service To Bullshit Ideals

NOTE: This is opinion,and personal analysis. I am usually a fairly accepting, friendly, respectful, and kind-hearted individual so: Take what you will from this, but watch the fuck out when dealing with me in person. If you can’t quite understand what I mean by that last…you will shortly or you won’t at all.

I am an Anarchist. No bullshit. No façades or delusions there.

Long Live Anarchist Black Cross! Хай живе Нестор Махно! Vive la Résistance! ¡Viva la Revolución!

The problem with announcing anarchic politics is that Anarchy, true Anarchy, is not political at all. True Anarchy is the insanity of believing and espousing the belief that individual living things should have the basic right to do pretty much anything they want.

Anarchism becomes political because, and only because, we live in a politically governed system of linked sociological groups. A true Anarchist is, by the very definition, incapable of overlooking the vileness of politics imposed on inherently non-political species.

Most politicians, political analysts, philosophers, and activists want to make the ways of nature into some kind of political system.

NATURE IS NOT A FUCKING POLITICAL ENGINE YOU IGNORANT STATIST MORONS

*Ahem* Now, with that microrant off my chest we may resume this soap-box proselytization.

At some point you, reader, might wonder why I seem to take things so personally.

It. Is. Personal.

Whoever you are, no matter what philosophical, political, national, regional, or familial allegiances you might have, read carefully and buyer beware:

YOU have NO right to tell me how to live MY life. YOU have NO right to tell ANYONE how to live THEIR life. YOU have NO right to impose YOUR moral/philosophical/political ideals, rules, laws, and/or regulations on ME or ANYONE ELSE.

Grow the fuck up. Stop making things that absolutely DO NOT matter into personal attacks in your own twisted and brainwashed mind.

The next time someone with no direct authority, under the law or not, tries to enforce their own ideals on me someone is leaving either in a body bag or on a stretcher whether its me or not. That in mind: Be careful what you say. Words have meaning people. I am a snake in the fucking grass: Tread On Me At Thine Own Risk.

Human beings are human beings. Living things are living things. Regardless of any other observed status given to or accepted by an individual, everything living has a natural and unalienable right to three things: life, personal liberty, and the pursit of happiness. Your regional/national/state governments, laws, politics, and customs CAN NOT take that away from me and I will fight to the death to defend those rights in others if forced to do so.

I would rather die than live any other way.

If you don’t see things the way I do…get behind me or otherwise stay the fuck out of my way. Period. There are worse fates than death and some things more than worth enduring any possible outcome of fate.

Anarchy, libertarianism, non-Marxist socialism, anti-establishmentarianism, anarcho-socialism, anarcho-capitalism, equality, love, righteous anger, vigilante, punk, hippy, tree-hugger, world citizen, American, Native American, European, tolerance, peace, spirituality, collectivism, activism and humanism defined is me. (Assuming you must label me with anything as useless as human labels and words.) Economics, politics, and other contrived human bullshit has nothing to do with it. I don’t care what socio-politics we all end up with on this planet just keep your racism, sexism, misogyny, patriarchy, matriarchy, statism, liberalism, and conservatism away from me. Capitalist? Fine…be the best capitalist you can be. Communist? Same to you. Socialist? OK by me. Something else entirely? EVEN BETTER. We aren’t a conglomeration of labels and hash tags. We are human fucking beings. We are Alive. So live mother fuckers!

My rights, your rights, and the rights of those humans and other living things around you are divinely given. Pandora trapped Hope in the jar for all of humanity.

Stepping down from the soap box now.

Have an unbelievable day! 😀

In Earnest,

King Pollux ~ Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King

P.S. For the other activists out there:

If you aren’t willing to die for your cause and your ideals why do you have them? Think on that. Hard. And with feeling.

Good Prompt Today! Daily Prompt: Fast Forward

Today’s prompt is another one I can really sink my metaphorical creative teeth into as a sci-fi/fantasy/horror writer. (OK, OK, I didn’t see the prompt itself first…I saw this post [great pic by the way, Vic!] then found the prompt, so my response is a little skewed because of that inspiration.)

Vasnetsov’s Four Horsement of the Apocalypse in all its splendor!

My most recent completed draft is a future dystopic utopian sci-fi novel. It is set mostly in the year 2063 aboard an interplanetary science/exploratory vessel. The world governments have conglomerated into three major “imperial” state-systems each with colonies on either the Moon, Mars, or both.

In that novel, entitled 2063: Odyssey of the Krasivaya Vesh, the protagonist comes to realize (through various transmissions and reports from other SpaceEx – members of the “Space Explorer” culture) that the utopian placidity enforced on Earth and in the colonies is merely a facade.

Other than that, I write a lot of poetry and fiction, both in short story and novel format, about death, apocalyptic warfare, and similar morbid/dark topics. I don’t really know the why behind this tendency… but I theorize that it relates back mostly to personal experience and knowledge.

Here is an apocalyptic poem (I’m very proud of this one, but, as always, could still use some comments if anyone notices a flaw in meter or any other aspect of poetry.) I wrote that I think a lot of people have tended to enjoy. Hope you enjoy as well, dear reader.

NOTE: This was carefully constructed, but was not written with any intentioned meter, format, or other poetic structure. There is, in places, a rhyming pattern and a meter that I think might be called iambic pentameter (or other similar pentameter or iambic rhythm…I don’t know, all I know is it sounds better read aloud than it does in my head, lol), but it is more fluid than most of the hard poetry that I’ve personally read. So, that said – happy reading!

Ending of Endings

Tensions gather: world in a trance

emblazoned leaves begin a dance

in the winds that sweep our Mother

{Gaea to all Hellenes;

“Earth” she be to other dress}

and dry the faces of the men

and women who brave the tosséd mess.

Soldiers training for the fall

in the war that will enthrall

the Earth and Peoples of the earth

and all the living in its berth.

Captains calling for a drill

in harshest freeze – Boreal Chill

that burns the faces of the men.

Soldiers all, march towards an end;

(An Ending Ends all Endings!)

Armies moving out to meet;

Anthropoi seek the shield or sheet;

{Perchance them luck allows avoid

a tempest raging on geoid}

and scorch the homes and towns and lands

of all that live upon the brand –

Herakles but overlay,

the Titan Lord the weight {wait?} betray.

Things are coming to a head

as winter cloudbanks: shadow steles

now are built ‘twixt Zeus and ‘Ellas.

All cower in the roll of thunder,

no Messenger now Basilei needs,

Announces Grim {his sky’s asunder}

FINAL WAR!: our hasted blunder.

Questions {myriad their number}

breech the minds

in wizened skulls:

those Few who seek now to preserve

some measure of our lost reserve.

Alas their charge came overdue

impotent force sees now this true.

Ares marches to consume

All that can {and can’t in gloom}

take up arms against his might!

Hades marching in the night,

Thanatos the grim he joins

in solemn, cold, unfeeling step;

Forge the rivers!

Smash the damns!

Hell is loose upon our lands!

Fires burning!

Bombs explode!

Earth had been his sick demand!;

This Ending Ends all Endings!

But from the ash

We’ll rise again

A thorn to mock the dreaded crash

And live to see the land restored:

Our time here never left deplored

Well, that’s that! I really do hope you enjoy it! I’ll keep posting poetry since I seem to be getting only encouragement and positive comments when I do so! Haha. Power of positive reinforcement there, I suppose. If you DO, however, see an error or something that you feel could be improved, please, by all means, point it out to me publicly OR privately. That kind of honesty and advice is always as welcome as compliments or other general comments. Whether you liked or not…I’d love to hear about it!

Have an unbelievable day/night!

In Earnest,

King Pollux ~ Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King

On Being a Misfit, an Outsider, a Lone Wolf

I saw this post on “vic briggs | a writer adrift” and it inspired me to write on the topic too. I saw that daily prompt (from yesterday the ninth) but didn’t really feel moved to post on the topic with how I was feeling that day. Frankly, yesterday (Thursday, Jan 9th) was just a shit day in most aspects.

In any event, I felt that it would be great to post a sort of personal response to Vic Briggs’ post explaining how I feel about being a writer and a weirdo (“weirdo” is my own addition and shouldn’t be misconstrued as calling all writers “weirdos”… though many are, 😛 neener-neener).

I’ll begin with a bit of a cliche. I always felt different.

In my case, however, that feeling different felt normal and I never felt as if I did not “fit in” as a child. That may not make a whole lot of sense to you presently, but, please, hear me out and I can explain.

You know that feeling, in the summer, when you go inside from the screeching heat? That feeling of complete and utter relief? When the thermostat may be turned up to a mere couple degrees below the outdoor temperature and it doesn’t fucking matter, you still feel relief?

That’s kind of how “feeling different” from all the other kids felt like when I was young.

I accepted the fact that I was different and also the fact that I could still fit into the social groups I was expected to fit in with. I could still “succeed” by the standards of my parents and teachers while remaining true to the fact that I was unique. Yea, even at a young age I could get a little grandiose and overly cocky.

Once, in the Third Grade, another boy and I made a game of prank calling the police from the pay phone (sorry, kids, many of you younger folks probably haven’t even seen one of those 😛 ) just outside the office. It was a blast! We knew deep below the surface that what we were doing was wrong. We knew this was forbidden. Someone had taught us this lesson already: calling the police when there is no danger is dangerous for other people. That was the FUN part about the game!

J.J. and I got away with prank calling for a few days just fine. The office personnel were always inside or far from the office during recesses. We figured as long as no one caught us in the act, it would be fine. Of course that meant I had to go off on my own and push the envelope just a hair too far and get caught in the act. (I usually knew/know when to call something quits, but in that case I completely misjudged the location of the stopping line.)

That was embarrassing! That single event, I’m sure, is the reason I tried so hard in the years stretching from then to now to do whatever I wanted without getting caught doing the things authorities looked poorly upon. I managed to cute-ify* and manipulate my way out of the prank calling incident and if I could do that I figured I could do it again in other situations.

See, from a very young age I was a rebel. A punk. A misfit prince of thieves and deception. Even as a toddler I was 95% pure mischief. Its that outer 5% of cuteness, innocence, and wit that kept me from ever getting into serious trouble.

I always had a relatively large group of friends and never had any trouble getting along with anyone, adult or child. My mother supposes that my learning to talk and read at a young age coupled with her own propensity to speak to me as if I were an adult while I was still in my crib helped me to learn excellent social skills in general. I am grateful (more than I can ever say) for my parents both, for their encouragement and nurturing. It sure wasn’t expected that I’d do anything other than what I wanted within the household. They just did their best to teach me how to want and like the things that would kill me, harm me, and do neither of those things to others.

Upon reaching junior year in High School (I believe it is generally also called “secondary school”, for non-American readers) I met her. That girl that I thought I would marry in my youth and naivete. Yea, well… dedicating everything of myself to anyone at that age and in the ensuing years was a major mistake.

So, it happened, that at the times I wanted to rebel the most I wound up with someone who opened my eyes to many truths I’d never had to face before. We were so different and so bull-headed and determined that somehow the relationship worked for us. Sadly, it didn’t work for any of my large family or enormous friend base.

Now, just over 8 years later, my life is only just beginning to regain some semblance of togetherness and health.

During those 8 years running from 11th grade to November of 2011 I went through the soul crushing experience of morphing from a confident and independent young man into a groveling, lying, thieving, wretched, crack addict. I had no friends. My family had all but given up on me (except my parents, they, of course, always held out hope). I was that lone wolf I always thought I wanted to be. I chose the Wolf and the Wolf chose me.

Moving from conservative Christianity to anti-Christianity to vague neo-paganism to Hellenismos was a hard process alone. I’ve been a Hellenic polytheist since late 2007. (Which happens to be the year I graduated High School and began attending California State University, Fresno and living, for the first time, out of my parent’s home and on campus.) I only just got the courage and fortitude to tell my parents mere weeks ago.

I’ve been a Misfit. I’ve been that Outsider of which true artists and vainglorious frauds speak. I am the Lone Wolf.

The only reason I’ve survived thus far? I also happen to have a pack.

I don’t walk alone as much as I felt I did for so long and as much as I thought I wanted to. Sure, it’s a marvelous feeling to “go your own way,” but humans are social creatures and no amount of lying to yourself will change that. The only way to survive for long as a “misfit,” “outsider,” or “lone wolf” is to find a “pack” of other outliers that you fit in well with.

That’s how I survived when multiple situations should have found me dead or in prison upon reaching their ending.

• I’ve overdosed on cough syrup (just robo-tripping) and wound up in the hospital on saline IV drips twice then was 5150’d and brought to the Community Behavioral Health Center in east Fresno where I was 5250’d and only released ten days later because my parents signed me out on my own recognizance in their care at my begging and pleading
• I’ve had guns in the hands of those more than willing to shoot aimed at my car
• I’ve had people threaten to beat me up or kill me
• I’ve been surrounded by gang bangers, cutthroats, and dope addicts who might have attacked or murdered me for little more than a sideways glance at the wrong moment
• I’ve been addicted to opiates (mostly stolen hydrocodone pills, but sometimes oxy if I could get it free) as well as crack cocaine (sometimes using them both within a brief time frame)
• I’ve been on the verge of murdering other men on more than one occasion (by on the verge I mean “so pissed or otherwise upset that I actually had plans for killing them in cold blood and getting away with it and came very close at least three or four times to actually acting out the plan”)
• I’ve been handcuffed and arrested (then released) by Clovis PD for having smoking paraphernalia (a little glass crack stem) in my pocket while one of the brake lights in my brother’s jeep was out [NOTE: If you are on or coming down from powerful stimulants, have some drugs or paraphernalia in the car, get pulled over, and have never had to face the police while in such a state before… you’re probably screwed. Sorry, that’s just the way it goes. Those guys are trained to recognize the symptoms.]

I won’t go on here, this post is long enough. Still, if you’ve read this far: Thank you very much.

You few that read this and take something from it…I’d like the message you take from it to be whatever message you need to hear from such a topic at this stage of your life.

In the end, people cannot survive for long or very happily without other people. Even if you never associate with anyone in “mainstream” society somehow and cast yourself out as a misfit/loner/outsider/reject/lone wolf… you need socialization. Sure, you could survive for a while on the company of animals or imaginary friends, but you won’t thrive.

Surviving. is. NOT. living.

So, thanks for reading! I hope you take something out of this even if that one something is the conclusion that I am completely insane! ^_^ I AM!

DING-DING-DING-DING!! We’ve got a winner folks! Give this guy-girl/girl-guy/person (because honestly who can tell these days anyway and why does it really matter in the end when gender is more cultural myth than physical status?) the booby prize for recognizing the obvious!

😛 I learned a few years ago that claiming insanity actually means I’m not crazy. (Run that one through the old noodle and see what shakes out. Bahahahahahahahaha!)

Have an unbelievable day!

In Earnest,

 

King Pollux ~ Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King

King of Delusional Grandeur,

Prince of Thieves on Earth,

Demi-god Son of Zeus and Leda,

…

did the scribe list “King of Delusional Grandeur”?

Oh…so he did…good

ta-ta for now folks!

*Derp* Here’s the daily prompt!

Nominated for the Sunshine Award – Thank You Afsheen!

As the title suggests, I was nominated for the Sunshine Award by my new friend Afsheen Anjum.

شكرا جزيلا

Thank you very much for selecting my blog as one of your ten nominations. That is amazing for me after only 7 days on WordPress. It means a lot. 😀

Everyone should go look at her blog and her art! She has a big heart and great passion.

So, here is how the award works:

• Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog.
• List 11 facts about YOU!
• Nominate 10 other blogs to receive the award.
• Announce the nominations to the nominees.

Facts about me:

1. I am a writer, poet, novelist, blogger (well d’uh, right?), and freelance writer (I am fairly inexperienced at commission/freelance work but I have samples of my fiction and non-fiction available if anyone is interested in future.)
2. I am a musician/vocalist
3. I am a Hellenic Polytheist with Reconstructionist tendencies. If you have no clue what I’m talking about there, check out the Wiki article on it, it isn’t perfect, but its a good overview. Otherwise, if you are more interested, you could check out the Neokoroi, of which I am a member
4. I have been called an “old soul”
5. I am an unlicensed Information Systems technician/computer repair tech and amateur web designer
6. I am a recovering addict (addicted  to crack/cocaine but I would have used anything I could get my hands on)
7. I am Irish, Scottish, Native American, Welsh, British, Norwegian, Mexican, and all manner of other nationalities/ethnicities so I usually identify (affectionately) as a “mutt”
8. I can see beauty in just about anything and anyone
9. I do not believe in “good” and “evil” by any conventional or traditional standard and I do not believe in “sin”
10. I go by so many names/nicknames I’ve forgotten some (seriously, though: Adam, George, Lykeios, Lyke, Pollux, Georgie Porgie, King, Aam {the way I used to pronounce my name as a baby and, consequently, the way my mom sometimes refers to me to my chagrin}, White Chocolate, Doofus, Spazz, moron, and, recently: Faggot, Asshole, Crackhead, Whore, Man-Whore, and so forth)
11. I truly adore all the people I’ve met on WordPress thus far and am still blown away by the support and encouragement I have received. At 30 followers, this is the most readership I’ve had for any blog I’ve ever made! You guys are awesome, thank you so much! If it wasn’t for you…I wouldn’t be writing nearly as much as I am. So, as gaeilge: Go raibh míle maith agat!

My Nominations:

• SFoxWriting – Good poetry, awesome writing, and, he helps his sister get her photography out there. Check it out, Steven deserves a click!
• I Love Painting – Amazing paintings, good writing, and all around blogging excellence!
• Let’s Reach Success – I adore this blog as well. Lidiya is kind-hearted and driven and her work is fun to read.
• Gotta Find a Home – Another very good blog on a topic that is near and dear to me. Give Dennis some more clicks, people! 🙂
• Writings of a Mrs – More awesome poetry and just plain good writing. Jennifer certainly has a way with words as well. Also, thanks for the re-blogs and the advice on getting more of a readership built up! 😀
• Megan’s Musings – Yet another epic blog. I enjoy it and she writes so well about difficult topics.
• Lightning Droplets – Very pretty blog with pretty words and pretty pictures. I’m loving this one too, so she can have one of my nomination spots, its well earned.
• The Vintage Postcard – Awesome pictures and writing from all over the world! Great information for anyone interested in traveling on a working salary. Can’t wait to read more.
• Margot’s Blog – Still another blog filled with epicness. Each day I look forward to seeing Margot’s pick for the word and pic of the day.
• Live Simply, Travel Lightly, Love Passionately & Don’t Forget To Breathe – Definitely in my personal Top 3 of Travel Blogs. Elena is inspiring to me and her blog is just plain made of awesome. Живи Россия!

Again, thank you so much for the nomination, Afsheen!

Also, thanks are deserved by all of my followers and readers. You are all the best and biggest audience I’ve ever reached in blog format. Keep looking here for some little rewards. I plan, now that a working computer is on the way from eBay, on cranking out some music and art for you all. Love to all of you beautiful, amazing people!

Stay Frosty, my friends! Oh, and, as always, have an unbelievable day!

In Earnest,

King Pollux ~ Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King

P.S. To anyone I didn’t choose to nominate this time:

I’m sorry! I follow so many amazing blogs through Word Press that it was hard to decide which to nominate. However, if I didn’t choose to nominate you…I still love your blogs! 🙂 Much Love to everyone, here! No hard feelings, huh? 😉

SFoxWritings’ “Envy”

I couldn’t stop gushing about this photo. Steven Fox has a great blog and I love seeing him helping his sister out by showcasing some of her photographic work.

This one, for me, was captivating and gorgeous. Give him a look!

Envy.