The Diamond Island

When I was younger I used to think this campus was a golden land of opportunity and adventure. Then I got wise to the unconscious riptides of the place and have changed my mind.

The college reminds me of that old Middle Earth Roleplay adventure, Bree and the Barrow Downs. A prosperous center of human activity beside ancient storehouses of past effects now infested with evil spirits.

However, unlike that adventure there are no collective figures of help and guidance such as Gandalf or Tom Bombadil. Hek, there’s not even any organized resistance to the shadow like the Rangers of the North.

In other words, no lifeguard on duty!

When you consider that PDX is Torech Ungol with the Desperately Strange characteristic, it makes the college a pretty bleak place to be psychologically. Deadly high level adventures for young newbs.

What did I know when I was 18?

Not that the cookies, gumdrops and cakes of the Gingerbread House aren’t real. There were many delights I found to be experiences worth savoring.

The college outdoors program is top notch, arguably the best in the country. I was exposed to the beauty of what remains of nature and the wild in a way many people will never know.

The overseas program is excellent. I got to go to Japan and search for Godzilla. Along the way Japanese ghosts gave me a magnificent insight.

The computer program was ahead of its time. The dorm labs, the library center—these familiarized me with the desktop interface and prepared me for the Internet that would spring into mainstream existence shortly after I graduated.

That’s where my actual career emerged eight years down the line.

But a liberal arts education? That is, the classical liberalism ideal of what amounts to critical inquiry? Not much of that. Mainly fitting classes into a generic requirement of blocks—basic, intermediate and advanced.

The classes themselves were almost always all institutionalized preparation for a position in the white-collar industrial model, assuming you didn’t come from an upper cruster background (and I met many folks who had affluent parents). In that case, I guess you just went into the left-right or center-right wings of business.

Asking questions? That leads to questioning authority. Coming to your own conclusions? That leads to independent thought. Playing with the materials and figuring out how they work? That’s a little too scientific to be safe.

I ran into that wall again and again in my studies, not that I knew what I was bumping into. I just must have been missing the door, rite?

Wait, there’s no door? What you talkin’ bout Willis!?

The college recently started an entrepreneurial program. I had to laugh at the unconscious admission behind that.

All the best sages on innovation I read seem to agree that a liberal arts stance—that is, thinking outside narrow constraints through play as exploration—leads to entrepreneurial activity. If you’re a real liberal arts college, you got this down already.

So in a left hand way the college was positing that its own program was not in any meaningful way liberal arts!

I assume though, that they meant entrepreneurial in the sense of business—coming up with services or products to sell that will presumably reinvigorate the economy that’s in decline. You know; profits, and maybe some jobs.

I guess business degrees ain’t what they used to be in these modern medieval times.

I still remember the career guidance counselor asking me if I had ever considered a job in sales.

You craphound! If I wanted to go into sales I wouldn’t need to go to into indentured servitude to afford a college degree. I was dodging a trade presumably so I could learn how to unlock the full potential of my mind, you numbskull.

The college was full of barrow wights like that, preying on the vulnerabilities of young people as they bumbled around looking for a clue. I met a lot of students there who took too many blows psychologically and shipwrecked in one form or another.

Hek, I almost joined the list of Bermuda Triangle victims myself on a number of occasions.

I mean, if you want to model your thinking towards the needs of the owners of this country then this is a good place for it. You too can aspire to be an unquestioning master butler telling the other servants what to do.

For everyone else, well the old joke was that on the back of every Lewis and Clark degree was a job application for a McMenamins restaurant.

2 out of 5 Stars of the Magi

Unless you’re a nega-psychic*, living in The City That Works Your Wallet is a daily choice between saving throw versus poison or serving evil.

I’ve been on a sooper secret mission to figure out what happened to me when I was in this place during my college years. It seemed like such a magical place then, with beautiful treasures.

Yet I wasn’t able to find a job and support myself back then. Not even as a dishwasher! Go back to Parental Tiger Cage, do not pass Go and do not collect 200 dollars.

So here I come many years later with a full on psychic starfleet and a posse of awesome abilities. This time, if I can do it I’ll make it and find out what’s what. I got the Beagle Active Star-Probe sniffing for hidden units, you read me?

I come to this place with trust and sincerity, opening myself to the possibility that it was me that was the problem before. In a way I am baiting the trap with a juicy morsel—myself—in a situation in which I have let go of all my past advantages in order to attempt a new life.

Mistakes were made: It wasn’t me at all.

Portland Oregon is a conformist, insular, reactionary place with no room for boundless life. It’s a bloodsucking operation for rich people who have moved on from the farmer and woodsmen producers to young and hopeful dreamers.

This is performed through an unconscious public relations beacon phenomena that lures people into the city’s orbit with the promise of a progressive, liberal land of opportunity where the kids are hip.

It’s none of those things!

The entire city is overrun by a psychic colony of giant spiders waiting to snare you in their complex web of misfortune. Once you’re caught they insert a vacujac and connect you to the blood bank.

Your money, sanity and youth are drained away to feed the psychological mechanisms that maintain the city as a playground for rich people who enjoy west coast flavor in their victims.

There are a few spider predators here, and those lucky folks who happen to be nega-psychics are able to do the total dodge. But oh man, the majority of people here end up processed in one of two ways.

You either succumb to the conformity and descend into some form of depression, or you suffer a violent reaction to the spider venom and hit the eject. The people who flee the place are denigrated as losers by the bitter victims who haven’t the strength themselves to escape.

It’s sick.

One of the running gags in this place is the campaign to “Keep Portland Weird.” This is complete misdirection. Portland isn’t weird at all. It’s what I would describe as “Desperately Strange.”

That is, the symptoms of “weirdness” are really an autoerotic response to a dwindling life force. People are acting out because their blood, brains, and souls are being fed into a machine nightmare from which they cannot escape, and they have to fill the void with something.

I’m too weird for square, isolationist Portland Oregon. I’m leaving before the giant spiders and evil spirits drain my tank.

If you’re thinking this place is the land of your dreams, pinch yourself hard and rethink your plans before you become a take out meal on legs. For those of you trapped in the Portland Oregon deathtrap already, hey you’ll be in my thoughts and prayers.

Those who are nega-psychics? You and the people close to you are fortunate indeed to not see what goes on, but do know that the delights of the city are made from the remains of the victims.

1 out of 5 Stars of the Magi

*A nega-psychic is a concept from the Beyond The Supernatural RPG. It’s a person whose psychic power is an unbelief or dislike for the supernatural. Their power weakens or dispels supernatural manifestations.

I defeated the Gingerbread Witch of Portland Oregon a while back. I’ve been trying to mop up the traps, giant spiders, and evil spirits she left behind so that things might improve.

I’ve had a sinking feeling though, as the hits keep coming. I’m running short of slack.

Things have been bad news, and as I lose a greater share of my live brains the fallout seems to hit me harder. It’s getting so that every chore or errand I have to do takes three times as much energy as it should.

That means there’s more going on than just my most obvious vanquished foe.

Which makes sense, as it’s a collective entity I’m struggling with. Eliminate the personal manifestation and it falls back to groups of problems.

Giant spiders all over the place, hidden snap traps that “surprise you’re dead” you, and soul sucking wight jerks that glom onto you and sap your will. It’s a constant state of paralysis and poison.

I’m doing the best to purify and cleanse my immediate surroundings, but again I’m faced with psychological energy that is too much for one person to handle. I’m still in danger and my resources are running out.

And yet, I continue the struggle. With slapstick and candle in hands I uncover what clues I can. I need to protect not just myself but those who are dear to me.

Then, one day while I am nursing some spider bites and chill burns from the local wight posse, a friend mentions a common remedy off the cuff. At first I’m like, yeah killing the actual spiders that seem to be accumulating in my crappy apartment sounds like a good plan. Then I realize this is a major piece of the puzzle.

Ain’t that how it is? The folklore solutions come up gold.

Put vinegar and water in a spray bottle. Turns out spiders are vulnerable to this kind of treatment. Hey, I can scale this to the psychological realm very easy. It’s based in objective reality already. Those giant spiders will be in for a surprise.

I’d been considering a treasure I found from the past against these eight-legged karmic jackups, but the use of it bothered me due to its constructed stance. This remedy, however, this I can do.

But wait, there’s more!

Water is part of the mix too. Wights are vulnerable to water as it reminds them of the soul they no longer have. What if I pumped up that mix and made it holy water. Holy water protects against evil and renders it inert. I have connections to this shindig, I can add it to the blend.

All of a sudden, I have a multi-weapon I can use to put some distance between the challenge and me.

With distance you get perspective. I see things are on the mend and the upswing, even as horrible as they still are. This gives me hope.

I ain’t done yet!

I gotta keep the purification and cleansing going. Redirect the manifestations of the collective jackup. Create sacred space where people can catch a breather.

Then it occurs to me. I’m already doing incense, which is a good start. But hey I got all these killer bees doing the business for me. I need killer beeswax candles! They smell great and give off a nice killer bee candlelight glow. Just the sort of thing to scatter and evict these psychic attackers.

There’s still more.

While watching The Giant Spider Invasion it occurs to me that this movie is a long-term training message from the Nightchild to me in this moment. A meteor from outer space created a black hole situation that is feeding an energy field that in turn powers the giant spider invasion.

In short, a natural phenomenon is powering the collective eruption of forces upon consciousness.

I already know how to deal with this. I need an imaginary Cal-Tech neutron emitter sound system to neutralize the black hole and the energy field. I know people who can help me get the psychic plans for this and I have the means to build it as a psychic mental construct under hypnosis.

Is this for real? Can I really do this?

I need to remember that the collective is not just the jackup, but also parts which want me to succeed and do remarkable things.

Hulking up after a long beat down. I have tools now, and a plan of action.

I’m coming back.

I thought the 2009 Star Trek movie was horrible. The newest movie makes that junkyard of half-baked grandstanding look like a decent flick.

The director and his posse make their handling of the re-imagined Star Trek a modern day Phaethon and the sun chariot. This movie is the moment when the horses sense that a newb is at the reins and begin to run amok.

I can’t wait to see how incoherent the new Star Wars films will be.

I’m going to dodge all the obvious problems everyone else has pointed out and focus on one very important thing I haven’t seen anyone mention.

There’s no action in the film at all.

I mean, isn’t that what this director dude is known for? Action?

Nothing happens in the movie. Nobody does anything that matters. At the end of the film everything is the same as what it was in the beginning.

The evil admiral dies. Some people die. It doesn’t matter. Nothing changes as a result of these deaths.

The big evil starship is destroyed and it doesn’t matter. Its existence is completely irrelevant.

Khan looks badass for the audience and then is put back into deep freeze. This has no effect on the story at all.

The crew of the Enterprise are right back where they started at the beginning of the film.

There are no consequences for anything that happens in the movie. There are no stakes to the story. Nobody loses or gains anything.

A waste of material.

1 out of 5 Stars of the Magi