For whatever reason these four short scifi stories are interconnected. It was never my intention nor concept, these stories were written at different times in my life; yet they all speak to the philosophy & concepts of reality, creation, chaos, order, and individuality.
All works ©️ Jacob Pickard. 1995-2026.
Compartmentalized
Accessed when needed
Cached in dust
Pushed away, Given the hand
Boundries surround me, not for thee
Break glass, emergency
Kept to the edges
Unsupported extension
Unable to convert
Purpose lost
Overwhelmed in memory
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2026.
In the vast expanse of space, all the material physical things that exist in it, then time, the utter insurmountable distance among and between each.
We exist.
Does it matter why? Or who? Or what?
You exist.
Is this…
Not enough?
Asian long beans
When did you begin your WordPress journey, and how do you manage it day by day?
Thank you Deepika, for the prompt!
Feel free to use any prompts for May 2026
Know this, a person that breaks the narrative is a threat to ideology.
Substack: Alien Relay 3.0/Eroheretic – May of 2025 to December 25th, 2025
First, I met a lot of great people on SS. Many i am still fond of, but when the “ss notes” became more like any other sm (in long form mind you), to me it became no better than bskye.
2025 was also one of the hardest years of my life in a personal and on an emotional level. What follows is intimately tied with my sexual assaults, and I can not finish my story without having it be part of this prompt. I probably cried out my body weight in 2025.
Some on SS found me being vocal and speaking out a threat to the narrative, but I was not trying to be a threat or equate male sexual assault of woman to female sexual assault on men. I was just coming out to tell my story, so other men, don’t have to suffer in silence, and maybe get a little help in a mental health & criminal system that ignores or excludes male sa victims based on biology & conditioned behaviors.
Because for a lot of men, it ends in suicide.
Since my background is in science i decided to do some research on sexual assault of males, commited by females.
All I found was two studies!
Woman have every right to demand more studies about female medical issues / I think men have this same right to demand studies on the taboo topic of sexual assault on them.
These two facts alone break the narrative we grew up with. I myself, a diehard lefty male for most of my life, till the middle of last year, was clueless and had no idea about these statistics. What I think about modern femenism? vs. What I considered feminism? – is another blog entirely, and I don’t want to get into it now.
The first man I met who told me he was sexually assaulted, I personally was disgusted by him. It was a reaction, that as a man i was conditioned to have. The reaction was fucking surreal, me a survivor of sa, disgusted by another male sa survivor. Eventually we started talking about how we felt after being assaulted and three reactions were similar:
1. We felt it was completely our fault.
2. Our sense of masculinity was destroyed and had to be rebuilt ground up.
3. We felt like we were the ones who were guilty, as if we were guilty of the assault.
4. No one cared and there were no options for help (this being the worst of them).
Earlier on SS probably June, I did come out about my assaults, most people and woman had so much grace, they empathized with me, gave me hope at a time when I was at my lowest. Still I didn’t think I was allowed to call myself a victim. Until I met a woman named Michelle, who said, I was a “survivor.”
This changed my life, only then I felt I was able, allowed, to TAKE the “victim” label (it’s not given to adult men who survive, we have to take it.) There was a lot of back and forth in my mind, sometimes it was the “all women” guilt game , other times i was a rage filled aggreived victim, and the most difficult, “There was no way I could identify as a male feminist anymore”, i had to kill that part of myself to move forward. It was a core part of my identity since at least 16, it was as if i ripped out a part of my soul. I felt betrayed by femenism, the left, and Democrats. I also realized that I had deep ingrained misandry in my mind, because in 2025 I learned i was considered a villian at birth.
“How could I be a villian, if i was victimized by a woman?”
This filled me with rage, a deep ingrained rage, that was tearing me apart. I got really dark, considered taking myself off the list, dark hopeless days they were. Then I wrote this: Mirror
One of the worst things ive ever written, but it had to be done or there was the alternative.
Yes, there’s a manosphere, but there’s also a femosphere too. From the MAGA right i was a pathetic simp that should be killed or i should kill myself, this is to be expected, not surprised, but it still didn’t sit right.
The worst however came from the left:
1. Told I was still privileged, and being assaulted was probably not as bad as I say.
2. It’s patriarchy’s fault & the assaulters internal misogyny made them do it.
3. Numerous times I was told I should be objectified more and be raped multiple times. That any woman empathizing with me, was wrong and I was manipulating them.
4. I was stalked, the last time at the end of November and into December on my notes and published works, again i was attacked for explaining the statistics and saying that “anyone who is assaulted, regardless of sex, should be treated equally.” Apparently for some; I was to be punished for the sins of other men.
At least the right is honest in their hatred that I should die, the left was all about punishment & revenge.
I was done, SS with notes became a lot like Blueskye, becoming full of horrible people (Also before SS got popular with writers it was a favorite platform for neo-nazi’s and white supremacists, racist, bigots, and trans-hating femenists.). I left Christmas day. Here is a link, a goodbye & reasons, my: SwanSong
I decided to come back to WP-JP. It’s Nice and slow, no doom scrolling for likes, little drama and most of the time everyone i meet is pretty cool.
Im mostly Isolated on my island. If my writing is read or not, I don’t care. If others like it, i appreciate you. If people don’t like it,i still appreciate you for taking a look.
In the end, I write for myself.
To those who pick themselves up in silence, un-noticed, lost, but won’t give up
I know how it is
To go through the daily ritual. Unwilling to yeild, but exhausted and tired
Some of us with partners that are cold and frigid, not giving empathy, affection or love shut themselves off from you, then you shut yourself off
Others, who are single, but with the same fire in your heart, to give it all, but nobody to accept your power and love, you shut yourself off
You feel deeper, down to the working foundation of others, to touch, express your heat.
Open nerves, always giving, just wanting that touch, the lips, the pressure, to taste, to experience.
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025.
1st published on Substack
When did you begin your WordPress journey, and how do you manage it day by day?
Thank you Deepika, for the prompt!
Feel free to use any prompts for May 2026
I dont do writing prompts often. This is a long memoir, because my journey didn’t just start with me waking up and deciding to put my work online. It was evolution and adaptation that has led me here.
I think what’s more interesting is why i decided to end up using WP-JP as my chosen platform.
I literally have miles of written content & underground published essays, fiction, poetry, prose, illustration, water color painting, activism, political opinion editorials, zines, been in punk bands, music, miles of creation behined me over the long years. The majority in hardcopy, much of it now lost.
I’ve been writing in some capacity most of my life. I normally don’t write biographical peices, because as a fiction and prose writer my experiences are written in as code: I use them indirectly, I enjoy it, its fulfilling to world and character build, and the “act-of-writing” also acts as therapy.
I was Fully active writing until about 2002. After 2000 my focus went to education, I got a BS in Ecology, spending a few summers doing Marine Ecology based on islands both in the north Pacific and north Atlantic.
In Wisconsin i did lot’s of invasive species work, herbariums for the Mueseum, urban forestry surveys, worked in a vineyard, etc…but Ecology jobs were in short Supply and I needed insurance. So I became a Field Chemist cleaning up Hazardous Waste. I traveled the midwest, plains states, and the south for about 2ish years, untill i got a Biotech job. I liked the travel, but my mind was on not getting poisoned, melted by acids and bases, or blowing up.
2010-2011: Alien Relay 2.0 an online political blog in the wake of the Wisconsin Uprising after the Republicans killed public unions.
In 2012: My writers block and a loss-of-self began…………Summer of 2019: I had a trauma reaction from my relationship that expressed itself in a long hypersexual period & delibating anxiety & dissociation, this unhealthy awakening would lead to something even more traumatic. I Dabled in hook-up apps, reddit, kik, AFF, etc….was catfished, scammed, grifted on…I failed in spectacular fashion trying to hook-up…I learned these things were not for me. You needed to be hard, cynical, and couldn’t trust anything. Funny thing at this time, I thought non-binary meant people who didn’t use dating apps. 😅 That’s either really cute or appallingly ignorant, I like to think a little of both.
December 2019: Covid fears start worldwide as China is hit hard in Chengdu.
January 2020: At the biotech firm we got a majority of are synthetic DNA bases from Chengdu, we started masking and gloving up in the material handling/hazardous waste department I ran. I often worked by myself for weeks, while coworkers were out due to early social isolation recommendations.
April 2020: Covid hits New York; by then i fully surpressed my needs. The biotech firm i worked for created Nucleotides, which were needed for the first few rounds of the MRNA vaccines, where i worked was one of the few places that made it and mostly for research before Covid. My Zoloft generic dose was doubled by my psychiatrist, i also started to become a serotonin zombie, increasing my already strong dissociation and suppressing my sexual needs. We would get a year’s worth of material in 3 weeks! Needless to say from the start of 2020 till when I was downsized/fired in August of 2022 (the corporation execs needed more ponies for their children). I was busy nonstop from the second I walked into work to the second I left work. I was 120% exhausted. However I am proud of the work i did, I helped save untold numbers of people’s lives by working with purpose, regardless of recognition I wear my work in that period as a badge of honor.
November 2023: On a November in 2023 on a Thursday i was locked out of the house, then I was sexually assaulted twice by two different woman in one night. I suppressed that trauma deep within me, telling nobody until January of 2025. Until this day, my immediate family does not know.
November 2015: I left social media, Facebook, in 2015 after I learned how Zuckerberg/FB with Cambridge Analytica’s help, helped Trump win by data-mining and targeting people. Being politically active, that was enough for me to quite, I also felt SM as hallow. In December of 2024 after Trump won, my politically active-self stirred and I joined Blueskye to battle X. Fact: Many X’ers that either left SM earlier like I did or it was their first time became active on Blueskye.
Holy Fuck! I was, we were, not prepared at all for what Social Media became!
Energy
Given freely
Is as breathing
For me
Understanding
Until now, ive had so much of it
But, frankly
I
Am
Utterly
Exhausted
I
Speak Truth
I
Endless hope
I
Set
Boundries
I
Don’t give up
……Why do I feel guilty?
Truth
I
am
prey
Human predators smell empathy
As
Sharks smell blood in the water
Allowing myself to be used
without equal reciprocity
Used
Endless cycle(s) of neglect
Affection to weapon
Sex to Weapon
Shrunk as weapon
Tool of endless emotional grounding
Control
Power
Stability
Comfort
I
Am
Tired
…….So very very tired
And I’m afraid
I
Have
Changed
I
Am
Broken
Victim
Survivor
Pariah
Empathy is a curse
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2026.
I am Pariah
A life devoid of touch, love, passion, a pillar of rough-hewn granite, to make other’s lives more comfortable so they don’t have to feel guilt. A mirrored avatar to reflect what they want to see; taking responsibility for the cowardly acts of their Phantoms.
Selfish Ideological Narcissists, making victims that exist in the interstitial spaces, Acceptable losses in the war.
A living taboo, stigmatized, no one wants to touch this flesh, it is taboo made real.
Aged masculinty shattered into dull edges, ego ripped out, longtime ideological identity destroyed; the devouring mother’s hunger satiated.
I no longer want to try to identify with anyone, as anyone, or with any group. All are phantoms.
The gulf is now infinite. Not your spaces in-between, because nothing exists on either side.
Playing my part in the background, while the Phantoms roleplay; it’s the curse of total detached awareness & empathy. Pain hidden in the shadows, invisible to all.
Pariah is my rightful place, I am the sacrificial king: I will let this demon eat my soul.
……and I will REVEL in the consumption
One with the Pariah that haunts the
interstitial spaces
the Pariah that whispers to the
phantoms in your nightmares
©️ Jacob A. Pickard. 2025. Originally
published on SubStack.
I’ve been reluctant to share this one. The vulnerable parts of me in this water color are still part of me now.
Some people re-invent themselves, that is a skill I don’t possess. I carry everything because it’s me and good or bad I own it, and owing it is important. If you don’t own your choices, you make villians of others as an excuse for your actions. There is far to much of that in our world.
This is a long read. Just a quarter of this novel I wrote awhile ago. I cringe at some of it, because I was younger, with a great lack of wisdom. Although I think I caught detail of the action pretty well.
I don’t usually preface my prose, but I think this one is important that I explain. This peice comes at the end of a hard year plus of soul searching after acknowledging to myself that I was sexuslly assaulted. After nearly two years plus I buried it deep, but in the fall of 2024 on a cold morning while filling my car at Costco it all came back and hit me like bricks of ice. I barely made it through the day at work, but I did it somehow. All assault victims experience the same things, but men especially white men are given very little acceptance or grace by soceity as a whole, left & right ideologies judge heavy on your worth after, or even your right to claim victimhood in a world that wants you silent. It took most of the year to consider myself a survivor.
I guess its the times, but I have spent a very long time pondering aggreivment after being swallowed by it and spit out. The pull to hate and rage at those of the opposite sex was strong, some days it had consumed me. Too blame ALL women for the actions of a few, is absurd! I don’t want to be bitter or aggrieved, I think this poem captures the toxic cycle of aggreived victimhood. I had come to terms and this poem exposes what it is. Yours, Jake
Why does the bar tip the other way, while trying to equate and balance both sides?
to much weight on one pan
the fulcrum tilts, the beam always holds, the beam always wins
the villians are now the oppressed, the once oppressed villians
Transmutation of suffering into bitter rage
Alchemized survivor becomes the predator
Spittle & spite
Vengance so bright
Inferior to superior
Your Humanity now blight
My dear organizing systems forming entwining, no boundaries of the bottomless hunger
of self-righteous rage
the victims, the survivors
It doesnt matter to It who is in control, It doesnt care about justification, the thing exists.
Hoary worm of eons crushes bones, devours flesh, pukes blood, gnashing sinew, slurps guts, sucks entrails smashed
made into mash
Bulbous rot, engorging the gullet, suffering inside the gaping hole, digested birthing vile gas from the fermented bile of humanities sins
Orborus the obese worm, engorged distented on your suffering; prey-as-to-predator-to-victim-survivor-as-to-predator…as-to-victim…it’s the sweet….
…suffering
sweet…..
…sweet…….suffering
suffering
©️ Jacob A. Pickard. 2025.
A wall of sound, like a train into solid mountain granite
A cacophonic quartet of smashing rhythm
Surrounded by darkness and a halo of thin light.
The bar, black walls, stale smoke and beer
Illumination of execution by genocide, crucifixion for/of beliefs
Murder, letting of blood
Metamorphosis
Material to ethereal, body to spirit
Or some would call it glory, ascendancy of man to heaven
Cyclical thunderous melody, droning and blooming into monotonous complexity
Bombastic renewal of circles cycles, of intricate repetition.
The eye of Isis, the death and rebirth of Osiris. The annual flooding of the Nile.
Life is a system, the process of rearrangement of cyclical moving parts, like a wall of sound.
Written around ~1995 after seeing the band Neurosis at Okayz Corral in Madison, WI. It was so loud I couldn’t hear correctly for an entire week. ©Jacob A Pickard. 2025.
I’m stronger than you’ll ever be
Because, to endure and have your sanity, to make it so long, a clearly defined character, rock hard in its clarity
I am strength
hidden in the hot exhale of your breath
only seen in the cold void
when there is nothing left
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025.
History teaches us a lesson about what the majority of the insanely rich and powerful become, how their brains devolve into psychosis, those that exist “As Above”; viewing the rest of us as meat bound chattle, flesh to be exploited, blood to be guzzled, to kill us with impunity, injure us, as if swallowing and bathing in the blood of virgins & the young can unwrinkle your skin or stop the ends of your DNA strands unraveling. The ultra-wealthy the powerful (abomination), these people use your labor, use disease, abort your health from the pollution they dump in your air, your water to make profit, use everthing to enrich themselves futher and steal your power, your health, & your confidence. The supposed miracle of laize-faire capitalism birthed into bloody flesh ripping cannibalism, disembowling itself, hedging itself, gorging itself on it’s own innards, betting on failure, only to leave shit, piss, bile, and gnashed bone.
Make you small, weak, prey.
Keep Rotting in the Free World
Consumer or consumed, your life is cheap
Economic salvation in sweatshops returned from the east,
Despair the only quality of strife,
A reason for existence if you can afford the price,
If your price is right
250 years of the USA and it has birthed another generation of Nero’s, Bathory’s, D’sade’s, Caligula’s; your Maxwell’s, Diddy’s, Epsteins, Trumps, Fergusons, intelligence agencies…..we have called them the wealthy, rich, celebrities, CEO’s, intellectuals, left right, liberal conservative.
Ghouls who survive on the cannabilism of their fellow human beings. Spheres of power, as a super predator, you are the prey. They rape, commit genocide, murder, pollute and without question prove that wealth & power twist their humanity into abomination. Each inch given by us, the unwashed riff-raff, brings humanity a few feet closer to speciecide. The instable hunger of the abomination from insane levels of concentrated wealth and it’s self-serving power.
Multiple spheres of power coalesce, using other’s for the physical manifestation of their cruelty. It’s not enough to raise the prices of medication, or dump PCB’s in the water, force hunger, or steal your labor; they need to exert that power on living targets they can touch; deflowerimg by the domination of the powerless, those invisible. Rape is the goal, seeing the cruelty they created by their own hands, yielding that power must be seen physically and mentally on a victim, to enforce the fact that they beleive themselves “On High” over the rest of us who do not exist in their incestual nucleus of spheres; to manifest it, on a small scale for selfish gratification. The sweet suffering of the helpless; A sacrifice to their gluttonous god they worship: Themselves!
Rays Liquors Wauwatosa, WI (MKE area)
Put Cheese & Beer, and Music in a parking lot on a 25 degree day and we shall come.
Things have changed.
Time vigor pride beaten down by the club of life.
Resurrection?
Not while we’re alive.
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025. Written ~ 2010.
FYI – I have a BS in Ecology. I took a lot of botany invertebrate zoology, mycology, loved studying algae, lots of marine as well and other focuses, because Ecology is multidisciplinary in nature. It’s really a deep-dive into system dynamics.
Always loved house plants before that though, hence a portion of my plant army.
Okay ive never done this before but here we go:
“What’s a stupid thing you do or say, and you know it’s dumb, that slightly annoy’s other people, but you do it anyway because you think it’s funny and you don’t care it annoy’s others?”
I have no white whale to consume my soul, I am that white whale. Born a beast a monster: failures, oppression, hurt, murder, rape, death, genocide, femicide, and even your internal misery. I am your enemy i am your monster.
qualities you possess, your biological virtuous signaling superiority; a kingdom built of rage safe space for authority
victimhood aggreivment gives you power, self righteous-justification, superior unquestioned objectification
of me, the white whale
pluck out my eyes, spear my flesh, spill my blood, sickle my fat, bind my girth, blind me with your spit, hell hath no fury like your scorn upon me, i am your monster, your beast, a sacrifice for the goddess your ruler above, penetrate me, rape me, a mangled object your conquest that was born guilty
Yes be Ahab, understand
While lashed on your shattered ship
Sinking into the ocean abyss
”Damning yourself was a choice, you created your end by decision, your agency was your own.”
“Never understanding the nature of revenge while you let me consume your soul, do you understand you never were free, as long as all your thoughts were always centered on me.”
I, the white whale swims free, I will forever, be the last thing your living eyes ever shall see
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025.
So back in 2015 I stopped using Facebook and Social media all together, i did have a My Space before that. In-between I dabled in Reddit, twitter, and Instagram all of which in my point of view are cesspools. Not that I’m a saint, but I detest those who catfish & scam, trolls, asshole partisians, virtue superiority signaling, maga, aggreivment gender supremacist, trauma grifters, and the general way people treat eachother with disrespect and make instant judgements on your life and character. Also, the stalkers, who go after you, plenty of those ass hats.
I orginally quit social media in 2015 for two reasons, with my friends it felt hallow and fake why not just talk, the second was how MAGA used it with Cambridge Anylitica to get Trump elected, blatant manipulation and FaceBook was cool with it: that was to me grounds to tell FB to fuck off. I haven’t been back since, nor Amazon for that matter. I’ve always made decsions based on my politics and where I spend my money and what platform I allow to advertise to me i take important. One of the reasons I left Substack, because it’s owned by a libertarian tech bro. After the Charlie kirk assination they let MAGA gaslight and make death threats for at least a week. I have no doubt just like Zuckerberg & X, soon as a writer or blogger they will write into the terms that your work, copyright, or IP will no longer be protected.
The thing that disappoints me the most about social media is relationships with other people, or the superficiality of them. I am a person who always is trying to “bond”. I’ve found that the vast majority of people you think you are bonding with are not treating the experience of learning about eachother the same way you would physically, as in face to face. It’s as if the wired has a “buffer” that keeps these bonds that you build from ever becoming reality. I can’t imagine how it is to date with online apps, it must be like going through a menu at a 24 hour greek restaurant at 3am with a bunch of other drunk people.
In December of 2024, I went back in and to blueskye trying to push back against X like many X’ers, then came WordPress for my writing, then I left both for Substack in may of 2025 (also, partly because a WordPress writer was actively gaslighting me). I went to SS just when the notes part (the social media part) of SS came online. Though, I met a lot of cool people on Blueskye & Substack many who had helped me through some of the toughest emotionaly horrible months of my life, there has been only one that I have a meaningfull relationship with that I have from all of it.
The cruelty I faced for coming out regarding my assaults was sometimes overwhelming. The anger and spite directed at me for speaking out just to be heard, the cruelty, the hate, the rage. I finally had enough of it on SS too, like I had on Blueskye. Living with an assault considered taboo, I have no idea what I was thinking trying to find answers on social media sites. I was desperate just to find some grace in a world that views you as a villian at birth, even though you were not the villian, and the experience goes against the narrative.
Now, I plan on staying on WordPress. The last year has been an education for me. Social media is not for some people, I am one of them.
I’m a writer, on the darker side, and a terrible artist, but what I show you and what you read is genuine, it’s from my heart and mind. The majority of the art or images I take myself.
I give you me and I ask nothing from you in return.
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2026.
This was a compilation punk 7″ from the early 90’s to support the Mowhawk native American Resistance against the Mexican government. This is a lesson on what needs to happen in the United States.
To resist is to change yourself.
You must become a warrior.
We out-number the villians in this world.
There is NO room for apathy.
Only TOTAL resistance.
I gave up art & illustration for writing way back in ancient times (okay early 90’s). I just realized a few weeks ago that my art & writing fed off eachother. The art and drawing i did, was/is an actual funneling of my sub/unconscious mind into visual reality.
©️ Jacob A. Pickard. 2026.
Ecoheretic 