Blogging with less than 39Wh left

Yeah! Talk about living on the edge man! FUCK YEAH! Only 65% battery life left! WOOO!

Acumen is the word of the hour and it is shortlived ... wait, today's not friday - fuck! Damnit ... not really that bad, I suppose. I kinda thought it was friday, so I could have that friday feeling, but I don't have that friday feeling - besides nothing's good on TV today ... not that I watch tv, but if I did, I would be bored. And you wouldn't like me when I'm bored ...

Imagine that as a tag line of ... "The Bulk!" Coming to a theater near you! Yeah? Like it? Just thought it up - if only I could find that kind of immediate inspiration when it came to my damn stories - hitting a brick wall on them. Even with the perfect formula for epic fantasy, I can't start the fucking tale. First of all, you have to find the right words to begin it with. And then there's the ... whatchamacallit ... well, never mind. A rant that should not see the light of day. Kind of like my sermon on minor acts of pig terrorism. The world can never know.

So here I go at any rate - it has been a while since the last post. Oh how the holy words have been broken - promises of a return with every other day. And then the internet betrayed me ... oh how I have been betrayed ... *long, deep sobs* - at any rate, it still isn't dead yet. Like that cow in Me, Myself and Irene. It just keeps on ticking. A round of bullets later. Somehow. Unwanted and yet a small part of a much larger plot - minor comic relief - a second's laugh in the ocean of time. Muhahaha! What poetry and skill this random fool doth muster up? Shall we teach him the secret of the juice? I think not - he would betray his own kind with such unwarranted talk of betrayal. Let us send him a carton of pineapple juice from Asda instead. Oh, lets!

Like a lot of people out there, I hate Christmas - and I'm not even christian ... or maybe that's why I hate it. But here's the thing - Santa = Anagram of Satan. Big, red dude = Mythological stories/interpretations of Satan. Christmas = Pagan Holiday. NOTHING TO DO WITH FUCKING CHRIST IN ANY FUCKING WAY. So the next time I hear someone relate something in the slightest way to a glorious story of the basis of a bullshit religion, man - I am going to freak out with no logical reason for doing so.

By the way, if you didn't know, in the US, for my millions of international readers out there, the word "Goddamn" is partially censored. Yes - it's true. "God-" must be removed, leaving the viewer with ... "-damn" - as in "-damn, it's a beautiful day." I did not know this and somehow my life better be richer for knowing so. Unless this useless bit of trivia will add up to my part in the story of Farenheit 451.

The job still hasn't paid yet. Might do tomorrow - if so, well, I might return. If not, I probably still will return at some point, but with less money than I would rather have. Wouldn't we all rather have more money? I'm sure even Bill G wishes he had a bit more money. To buy that little country in the middle of the north Atlantic - the one with the uninspired name of "Iceland."

To reiterate the themes of me - I dislike Children. That's it for today.

Till another day when a monkey shits on a tortilla.

Crickets

Chirping crickets hidden away have told me of my fate. In certain words, I learned of my undramatic passing from the current world of living to that of para-life, where … drama would finally be mine. This is all that they would tell me, no matter how I would beg or plead. No bribe was large enough, no offer to generous. What could you give that a cricket would conceive of desiring?

As I walked away in defeat, two sparrows overhead twittered that they knew what a cricket would want. But they would not tell me for free.

“One eye and your left ring finger.”

Given this chance of a greater glimpse into a richer future, I could not refuse. So with a nod, they did descend, wings fluttering on my face and hand. One pecked and plucked out an eye and the other bit off the finger. I kept my silence.

"They wish for warm blood to run through their veins like it does through yours and ours.”

When approached with these words, the crickets cried and screamed. Anguish or joy, I could not tell, but I stayed silent in wait.

As time crept on, they recomposed themselves to former silent grace and asked how I would deliver on such a promise and this was my reply:

“You may settle on my flesh and draw as much as you need.”

Having already felt great pain, it seemed like a tolerable sacrifice. At my words, they collectively chirped twice and soon a small swarm flew onto me and a million needles pierced the skin, though it felt like they went through bone and sinew too. I collapsed under the weight of their task.

I do not know how much time passed – only that every second felt like an eternity of unfathomable pain that would have had me screaming had I the strength to do so. In some time, one chose to speak while the others still fed which made the pain all the clearer. Yet he spoke of my para-life encounter with the cursed Emperor of Annihilation – who would follow me for my knowledge thus earned from the crickets and then torture me for a thousand years in hope of learning more.

He spoke of my love for the para-living Princess of Fates – whom the Emperor would imprison after finding out and proceed to pleasure himself on her in my presence till her death at the five-hundred year mark of my captivity.

I heard the story of my escape after her death which would find me faced with a choice to bring her back to life for Annihilation or to return to imprisonment. And in a moment of horror, ask for her return and still be imprisoned once more for the next five-hundred years. Upon my release, she would carve off my limbs and sear my eyes, ears and tongue.

I begged to hear no more and the speaker complied, though that too would add to my doom, he added in the end.

And with this conclusion, the other crickets too ceased their feast and left my wretched shell. The speaker, however, had one more thing to say:

“This act signals your passing into the para-life. But you may choose to delay this. The only way that you can do that is through pain like you have endured today. It is all that will keep you alive. Each morning, a different creature will come and offer this to you. After this, they will feed you. If you send them away, even once, you will move on that day. The choice is yours.”

And with that, it disappeared into the freedom of the night.

Thus my fate had been set. The following morning, a pair of kittens carved off an ear and bit off a toe and returned with mashed fish and water to move me along. The day after, it was a group of mice who gnawed off the skin on my shoulders. Then a Boa that crushed the bones in my ankles. And so it goes.

Every night I have decided to send my morning’s “saviour” away and every morning, I have been unable to do so. A part of me hopes that one day I’ll “sleep” through their visit and the other part reminds me of the pain that prevents me from resting.

But here I still am, with no idea how many days and nights have passed – with veins filled with poisons that will not yet kill me, my body crushed and torn and chewed. Every thought running shivers through my cracked skull and exposed spine. And today’s visitor is the cricket who spoke to me of this aeons ago.

“Either you have much courage or far too much fear. I did not think that I would see you again in this life – the prediction of this sounded beyond mortals. I shall suffer for this disbelief, but that is for later. This will be your last day of life – no animal would dare come near one as wretched as you now. Soon, you must pass into the para-life and face the next stage of your fate. Yet, before you do, for the gift of your blood, I must offer some recompense. So if you should choose to try to avoid your thousand-year imprisonment, I will tell you three words which will place your fate on a different set of tracks. But I cannot tell what follows. This is your choice to use – you could enter a path far, far worse than anything you already know. When you first see Annihilation, speak the words ‘Four Holy Valleys’ and all will change. I wish you better fortune than I have known.”

Guerilla Blogging

Fucking hell! So I moved out last week and here I have very limited internet access. Snuck onto the site now just to type something - almost feel bad, why I don't know, that I haven't updated it. There's been stuff that I've wanted to say, but haven't been able to and it feels kind of crappy in that respect.

But first and foremost - I shook hands with Nobuo Uematsu today ... twice. Yes, most of you may regard me as a dumbass for counting that as a mention-worthy experience, but when I'm in the presence of the man who created the music of modern gaming classics that the Final Fantasy series and other Squaresoft products have been, I'm going to be in fucking awe.

And, why was I there? A 20-minute preview of Final Fantasy 7 Advent Children. If you had any interest in this project, know this - it DOES LOOK THAT DAMN GOOD! More like a 20 minute trailer for the amount of content and story that they seem to want to tell in the final film, but what I saw was ... bloody unbelievable. Another step in the evolution of CGI films.

Interesting times ... an ancient Discworld curse, eh? I suppose that's all that I can bring out of this shell for now. Till the following day calls my worried pigeon's name.

Playing bingo till the day I die

Sounds like the name of a killer 80's rock song. By some parody, type band - maybe I should email this across to Weird Al Yankovic and see what he thinks of it. Perhaps he can pull off a little spoof of Korn or Linkin Park or the like. And, for the record, they are among my favorite bands, so no hate there. In case that idea ever nearly popped up.

Oh! Get this - the Peace Goat! Or Goat of Peace. One of the two. And I DIDN'T come up with this one. I can't freakin' believe it. Apparently in one of these charity things, you can get this book of "real" gifts or something of the sort to give as christmas. Like give the gift of a day out to an old granny - costs 25 pounds only - gets her a perm and haircut and a nice happy time that'll apparently make her feel like a million bucks. Anyways, one of the gifts was the Peace Goat. You apparently donate like 20 pounds or less on this one - and a small village in some random place somewhere gets a ... you know it ... a goat! So the way this works is that the village shares the goat. The family that needs it the most gets to keep it and take care of it. You get nourishing milk, fertilizer and so on. Or maybe you get a female goat as well. Or they have one. Somewhere along the way, kids appear - and the whole village has goats and now they're happy.

Just when I think that I'm close the the edge on reality's limits here, here comes the Peace Goat. Really puts things into perspective, don't it?

It is amazing though, to think about how inspirational these tube journeys have been of late. Got an idea for changing a character in a story today. Someone I know won't be too pleased with the violent implications, but hey - at least I was thinking of the person in question when the idea came up, eh?

Till the forsaken Mackerel plunders Kazakhstan.

Sardines released into Winter Weather

Thanks to Yahoo UK on the inspiration for that one. They have this series of ads on the tube - like above a seat there'll be a little poster card with an arrow pointing at the seat - the arrow reads "Your Future Wife." Only problem is that there's either some big, fat bloke or a woman who looks like she's had one too many facelifts to permanently rob her of all expression. So she communicates in sign language. Go figure, eh? Anyway, the ads also extend to the escalators to freedom, where they point down with words like "Sardines" and "Claustrophobics" and up with "Winter Weather" and "Fresh Air." Simple things you notice when you get off the Northbound train to Cockfosters and on to the Northern Line route to Angel. Gotta love London.

Saw the moon real low this evening too. Odd - I mean, it was below the rooftops and so on - sure, the rest of you who've seen this and on a regular basis won't think much of it, but I thought it was cool. And it was fucking bright enough to outshine the streetlighting. Which made me wonder - why is it that the moon ... well, I skipped a point, but I thought the moon was beautiful. And what is it that makes the moon so beautiful in my mind? Is it all the romanticisation over the years of my life that I have acquired from all fronts? Or is it really, well and truly more wondrous than that humble streetlight, glowing in that orange-ish hue soon after its birth till its sputtering and forgettable death?

Beware that you don't ever sink into depths of depression that you get comfortable in. It's not a pleasant place to be.

Till the forward looking man of Galilee turns West.

The Fifth Veil

Flowers in full bloom
Along the twilight western shore
The pink, the blue, the green
I breathe to the rhythm of the waves

Sand across my fingertips
On skin darkened by the sun
Light beige against deep brown
The breeze blows them away

The distant gold orb
That sinks beneath the ocean floor
Leaves in its wake, the skies ablaze
A fitting day’s demise

The heavy scent, it fills my mind
Of freshness and decay
The flowers on this western shore
And blackened rotting corpses

I’ve shed my tears and said my words
A sermon for the sun
I’ve paid my dues for crimes long gone
The world awaits its turn

Uneven flow

This is actually the redone version of a botched post that got lost in the machinations of some server problems on the part of the blogger base. Though it's less of re-do and more of a different post, in the spirit of putting something up for the day. Proof of expression. If it's not up there, even if it's been said, one still feels pent-up inside.

Went back to Max Power Live for the second and last day of the show. More half-naked unpretty girls. More horny guys clamouring to see the magical nipples hidden behind the stars pasted on their enlarged breasts. Something that I've never understood is how seeing those changes everything, but somehow it seems to for most guys - it's the final cog needed for a good wank on their part, or something of the sort probably.

Spent a good deal of my time today with this ex-model from Glamour or one of the equivalent magazines - she's trying to work her way into TV presenting, the next step up from just modelling. Something smarter, she says. Not to make her sound like an airhead or something - she sounded fairly nice and though no rocket scientist, she had enough personality that wasn't just copied off some basic template that people use. Plus, as a presenter, she was interesting enough to watch.

One of the more interesting points of the day was when this ex-model and the three other female presenters we had were in the midst of this promoting we were doing for a game, when suddenly these other showgirls get up on cars and start their dancing and stripping. A question that had popped up in my head during the show was how "normal" women felt in the face of these actions/events. And, using those four women as examples, I learned that they were none too ... happy to be at that place at that time.

And the thing is, that at the show, there were tons of these women parading around, like I've noted before. But there were also lots of "normal" women and ... hell, there were kids and the like all over the place. A nice family outing. With girls stripping on cars, loud music with questionable themes, and some Page 3 girls selling their nude posters. Yeah - sounds like good family fun to me.

Feeling really fucking tired. Bones aching. Muscles sore. I need a week of rest to get over this weekend.

On a side note, thoughts have strayed towards some children I'm aware of - a niece and nephew, currently "pawns," as I see it, in a game of divorce and custody as played out by their loving parents. I've heard of some horrible shit in my short lifespan, but this tops them all. Perhaps it's just knowing the people involved and seeing them take everything apart, piece by piece - ruining lives and changing courses that should not be altered for the good of all involved. I'm becoming vague, so forgive me. Let's just say that at the center of a divorce, when kids are involved, to say that it isn't pretty is a MAJOR understatement. And that isn't even half the story. Out of all the shit in my life, I feel pain for these kids, though there is seemingly nothing that I can do for them in this matter.

Till another iteration of much-needed anonymous venting.

pS: I had a poem written that's coming up in a post real soon.

Show me some more, baby!

This is Max Power Live ... London ... or it's Max Power London Live - I don't give a shit. Something of that nature - modified car show. Lots of cars. Lots of girls - mostly in really fucking skimpy clothing - I'm talking bikinis, or just bras and panties even ... meh, but I'll get to why that would actually be a meh - No, I'm not gay.

So the word of choice lately is "bub" - don't know why - well, inspired by Wolverine, and there was that "bud" phrase to refer to people. Now it's mate. But among the people I regard as ... closer to my own nature, I use the word "bub" a lot. One of those phases. Like greetings for answering a phone. I miss some of the older greetings that I used to use - I could use them again (have tried to, as well), but the feeling just isn't there anymore. Now I'm just using "Hi," or "Hello" - really bland, I know - but this better be fucking temporary till I come up with something better. The next step.

So, there I was at the Car Show. I've had to go all the way across London, from the far north, to the far south-east for this, as part of work, of course. Anyways - get there later than was supposed to. Handed a still camera and told to run over to the Pot Noodle display (why at a car show, beats me!) to get some pictures of Victoria Silvstedt. So I run over there, crowded in by two guys who are each the size of four men alone, screaming at the top of the lungs for Victoria to turn their way. I get a few pictures and that's all I can get before she turns away permanently, so to speak.

See, I don't know how most folks feel about car shows - maybe it's an England thing or just generally, but you have all these women there in really skimpy outfits right. Now, I don't mind it - all for it, of course. But, I fucking swear man, with no offense intended to the ladies out there (who I'm sure I've already pissed off enough for a fucking lawsuit), but for once could they actually have pretty girls there? They have three types of girls at these things - (1) Skanky ones with enlarged breasts and more make-up than George W Bush at the retard convention, (2) Ugly, medium height ones with really bad figures and general body composition, (3) young, somewhat pretty, these are the best of the lot, which isn't saying too much.

Now with the exception of the 3rd group, which are an extreme rarity I might add, the place is full of these women that just don't look nice and look like cheap whores and dressed ... shamelessly in my opinion. It just isn't very appealing and feels very disturbing to be around. I feel sorry for them, whether I should or not. People deserve better than that - even if that's what they want to subject themselves to. It feels like the draining of human souls. Or souls that have leaked out ...

There was this girl in one of the booths - I think it was a car audio company. In a little metal ring with a DJ behind her, she was dancing. Not pretty, but she was fucking dancing when the show started. An hour later. Two hours later. Three hours later. I saw her on that fucking stage a good six hours later - still fucking at it. I was fucking amazed man - like a shot out of the twilight zone or an art film. Stuck in this permanent loop, if you will. The only display of constancy at this destination for deconstruction.

By the end of the day (woke up at 7:30am and set out) - returned at 9:30pm - I was feeling like shit - had hoped to get more done personally at the job, but I didn't, so that drained me out. Tiring as hell running around and doing what was needed to be done anyway. Here's where the holy spiral comes in.

Tool - Lateralus. One of the best pieces of music of all time. Up there with your symphonies and what-have-you - nothing that I know of comes anywhere close to the majesty and personal revelation that this album provides. Listening to it for even the hundredth time after ... 3 years now, I discovered something new. This is how rich and layered it is.

It had been a while since I'd pulled it out to listen to, so it was the perfect opportunity. And instead of the standard tracklist, I chose to follow the holy spiral 2 (as I have it labelled), a rearrangement based on the Fibbonaci Sequence that Danny Carey uses on the drums in the song Lateralus itself - a hidden guide to yet another layer of the album.

It set me free. I feel better. Alive ... ready to go on. Ready to have type this! Hehe!

Till another day, when the violent cause of Chicken Pox in Antartica strikes Greenland!

Fading smiles

One of the things that I noticed on the tube today was this beautiful ... I'm talking just a damn pretty woman. Not hot or lust-inspiring, but the kind that makes you think - goddamn, she's beautiful. Like a holy image ... okay, a bit of an exaggeration and digression from the topic at hand too.

Anyways - there's this beautiful woman. Sitting prim and pretty, but looking fairly down - like most folks on the tube, I guess (barring the teenagers - as loud and annoying as they are, I have to give them that - most of the time, they're really fucking happy). But suddenly she gets this phone call - a short one, no more than ten seconds and she smiles once in the call and that lasts till the end of the call and for a short while after - say, another ten seconds. Then it fades away as her face settles into the earlier countenance. She gets another phone call after a while, this one makes her laugh (and, by God, she looked amazing), and this smile lasts on her face for a solid minute.

Yes, it may seem like I'm some sick voyeur, but it's something that I have never watched/studied before and I wonder what other people think in this regard. Cause in movies and tv, for example, you see people smile, laugh and such, but this slow fade of smiles ... never happens - perhaps because there isn't the time to develop those moments, yet it's still something of note.

Anyways, back to the Nintendo DS ... struck me that the system has amazing potential - not as a gimmicky device, but a place to craft a whole new medium of gaming. Imagine comic book style cutscenes taking advantage of two screens. I mean ... the gaming aspects are what Nintendo's selling, but I think it could go much farther - not just "touching is good," but a new gaming revolution. Fuck old style gaming. Here, you have a far greater level of interactivity available to the gamer. Tell two stories at once. Have different cinematic angles on each screen. Really push the idea into the next millenium type thing.

I had an idea for a webcomic thing. Hopefully in the coming weeks, I'll get around to actually making it and start posting it too. I'm looking forward to that - been meaning to do that for a while now.

Had a dream last night - the kind that starts off real good, but ends kind of hopelessly. Saw this girl I know and am at odds with - got to actually enjoy some time with her - idyllic moments that would be cherished forever if they were real, kind of thing. And then she left with her boyfriend, not me - to some distant part of the planet ... Finland, I think - some sort of teaching thing - we were all being sent to different places. I found out at the last minute that I was to go to Toronto, but I had only an hour till the flight took off and all my stuff wasn't even packed and I was rushing to get stuff ready, fully aware that there was no way in hell I would have even made it to the airport if I had already had stuff packed anyway. There was this great and overwhelming sense of doom and hopelessness ... I'd lost a love and all hope for the future ... something like that, I suppose.

Till another day - when the toad croaks the Greek National Anthem.

Duality

So I've spent a good chunk of today on the Nintendo DS. Fucking awesome piece of hardware - not in a OMGWTFOOOOO, kind of way, but in a more subtle manner. Plus, the fact that I'm playing this here in the UK months before most folks out here will ever lay a hand on it makes me feel kind of good about myself in a conceited sense. AND that I got to play it for free. ;D The perks of a job that still hasn't paid, eh?

Fuckin hell - I used to love iTunes, but now, for some reason, it takes forever when reading/burning cd's - kind of a pain to deal with, but I'm going to just accept it cause there's no way that I'm going to use Windows Media Player ... I feel dirty for using it when I do ... all that wma stuff ... feels unhealthy. ;D

And then there's the top secret game. Muhahahahaha! I'm definitely on a roll, eh?

It would so seem that my life is nothing but games, games, games - which wouldn't be too far from the truth. At least the current state of work labels it as such, which I don't mind in the least bit. Who knows how long it'll last? And if I'll actually get paid and signed on to get paid regularly ... ooh, questions, questions - how does one get by, man - I fuckin ask you.

Apparently moving out this weekend. Not looking forward to the prospect and the situation that follows.

But they say that the wheel weaves as the wheel wills and not even ta'veren can change that. So I'll have to stick to the path in question and see what comes next

The Carvery

Right, so the title is kinda lame - I like to eat there, but that's a story for another day.

Listening to the Axis of Justice Concert Series Volume 1 now. An oddity of a cd - it isn't what I expected, but it makes sense - that's what can be ... expected of the guys that put it together. Not the most impressive of recent cd releases - but not much would be able to trump eMotive - at least not anything slated for release in the rest of this year.

There were more general ponderings regarding Halo 2 and Half Life 2 ... the disappointment of one and the utter perfection of the other. If you happen to be into games, you can try figuring it out. It's not so much that Halo 2 is a bad game - it's that, to me - having read the books and loved the first game and all that hype - it came off as a rather bad sequel. A great game, but ... not the best of follow-ups to combat evolved on a storytelling level.

Received the news that we might get to work on some tagging game like Jet Set Radio Future. Really bloody stoked about that. Collecting graffiti pictures and urban locations - like Tokyo and London and such. I just wish I got paid for this. One of these days, perhaps.

And I got to work on another poem. Not sure how that will go. If ... make that, when I complete it, it will be something different from what I've done before. At least that's one good thing about it. Till another day, perhaps.

AdSense - Thank you Google

No - seriously, I'm new to this thing, but I had to say my piece on this. I'm probably going to sign up for this prostitution of the written word out of curiosity, but ... this is just fucking funny. Free, eh? I mean ... who would necessarily turn down the chance to make some money? Make money and get your words read. That's the problem - we're not heard enough so we resort to this. Or are normal folks heard enough. Who knows - I'm not - so here I am - PLEASE LISTEN TO ME! I'm a fucking child looking for a little attention. Meh ... so be it, I'm going to be arguing with myself for a while on this.

So this is like a new toy for the time being. Here I can say whatever the fuck I want to say. I can spout out my worries for the next day. And it's out there, anonymously enough that no one has to read it. And possibly won't - kinda like writing my journal, but it doesn't feel as ... pointless as having these files stored away on my computer - waiting for the next machine wipe or whatever else comes their way.

Plus I like typing. It makes me feel good to type. Is that wrong? Bad? Whatever, says the eatern frog of northern Siberia.

Ohkay - the shit that people do, man. On this Axis of Justice cd, there's a bit about the Armenian genocide thing. Kind of disgusting. I mean, yeah you hear the crap that went on in WW2, for example - like when Japan invaded China, apparently generals, higher-up officers got together in open areas and had contests to see how many unarmed screaming peasants they could kill ... or the lining up of people to kill them with one bullet. Shit man! What the fuck is wrong with the human race.

Which reminds me, on a closing note, cause my eyes are going to start killing me soon (I feel SO happy that I don't have a headache right now), there's that bit about Chinese Torture. Either present day or long past, they had people stretched out on a piece of wood - just enough to keep them tight. And then they'd set up something above the fellow's forehead so that water dripped every ten or so seconds. Try imagining hours or days of that without your hand reaching for your forehead, just to feel it and make sure it's alright. Rough shit, eh?

Till the next step of the ridiculous political machinations of people we supposedly choose.