Staring into the Abrased Vestigia of Wednesday

I marvel sometimes at how little I know.  I should be comfortable that I’ve so comfortably surpassed mount stupid, but it’s not a terribly comforting feeling is it, the altogether realization of one’s utter worthlessness, absence of personal infrastructure?  This just happened to me yesterday, but for the rest of you it will have been some different yesterday, because god knows when this will ever see the light of day. I was staring into the shells of my septfurcated pillbox one evening asking myself, “What day is it–or rather what day was it, for the hour had already passed midnight,” running my eyes across whatever traces remained of the abridged characters that indicated the dosage for the day, when I began thinking about the labors of several hours before.  You see, I am not a wealthy man.  That’s a strange thing to say at this juncture, isn’t it?  Anyways, I’m not a wealthy man, and as such I’m not willing to spend a good deal of a new laptop.  That’s another strange thing to say, it seems.  You see, laptops are constantly breaking, and investing many hundreds or even several thousands of dollars into a laptop is like throwing that Read More …

The Fall of Bioware

If you’re like me, born in the eighties or perhaps early nineties, you may remember a time where Role Playing Games, aside those of the tabletop variety, were both extremely popular and extremely Japanese, whether on home consoles or even the PC.  That turn-based, spread-sheet style of gameplay might have become the dominant format, infecting titles to this very day, if not for a little company called “Bioware,” which released the RPG title “Baldur’s Gate” when I was still a source of constant agony and occasional amusement to my parents.  Since that time, up to 2012, I have purchased and played to boredom every title Bioware has released, save for three, which you could probably quite easily guess. There just wasn’t anyone else releasing the kind of content they were working on, a unique style of Western RPG that would ultimately prove highly influential, which typically molded turn-based mechanics with a real-time presentation.  Made the games feel a great deal less stiff, and many of these titles were incredibly nonlinear, very notably the original Baldur’s Gate.  People talk about sandbox environments in our contemporary titles, but nearly out the door you could fuck up straight down the southern edge of Read More …

I Bet You Slobs Would Like an Update

Well fuck you!  I’ve got better things to do more typically involving the dangerous libation than the wasting of my time with the three subhumans that will actually ever see this. Anyways.  Stuff.  Is.  Happening.  Not that you’d know, you fruit.  Get out of my house.  You and your mother. You ask why?  You should be complaining “When?” You disgust me. You and your mother. Like all women. Get out of my house.

Berserk

A joy to some and utterly unknown to many, Berserk can be considered a facet of what are sometimes either erroneously or mockingly called “Chinese Cartoons,” in this case a manga [basically a comic book] of 37+ volumes in production since the late eighties that has since then spawned several television and movie adaptations and video games beside.  It has been exceedingly successful, and yet even within its home country of Japan, it’s far from being a household name, but I have a sense that fans of Grimdark fiction in probably any country would be familiar with the series at least by reputation. Imagine a medieval, fantastical universe in which the gods do indeed exist but in which they are similarly a genuine reflection of the human psyche which contains hordes more misery and woe than the few precious gems of genuine joy it has rudely hewn from the rock in anger.  In theory, that should be all the description you’d need, but it’s so far from elucidating a picture of the action.  The protagonist is a character called “Guts,” or “Gats,” depending on the romanization, who was born the product of a dead woman, inducted at infancy into a Read More …

Pricing in the Competition

I must have been in fifth grade.  I think that’s about right.  I was over at a friend’s house, a friend I visited frequently, older by me than a year.  He had younger brother and sister, although he and his brother fought like tomcats.  Good lord.  Anyways, both the parents were out.  Father worked a lot for a living and the mother had some sort of superactive social life that implied she was seeing people on the side–frequently–and as such there was a sitter over, whom I’d met before frequently.  She was a friend of a family friend, which is how I met my own friend incidentally.  Anyways, she said they were occupied and that I’d find my comrades downstairs.  So I ambled down into the dungeons to join them.  It was normally a sort of ramshackle affair with an abused pool table that mutated into a ping-pong table–children’s toys lying and lingering ubiquitously about and several closets from which they’d been robbed.  There was a proper cellar for the boiler room and the like immediately beside the stairwell, but I never spent much time in there.  Anyways, they had the ping pong table put away and were instead presenting Read More …

Update: Week of June 4th, 2017

I occasionally have something interesting to say. So I’ve been sitting on this collection of short stories, similar subject matter and a handful of recurring characters, but I’ve never really been able to figure out what to do with them.  Never really seemed finished, and I could never think of a suitable title.  I was recently watching Jordan Peterson talking about frogs and the underworld, and a whole host of different ideas came to me, and the entire matter resolved itself in my mind.  It’s going to take some more work to finish, but I’ve a strong idea of what it will look like when finished.

My Politics

…is frankly something I prefer not to talk about.  In that regard, I won’t, elucidating only why. I grew up in this liberal quagmire of unseemly socialism they call “Massachusetts.”  It used to be the bastion of the Republican Party, but all the hard work of their ancestors was met with mean-spirited disregard for them, announcing “I will play in the world made for me by my ancestors,” whilst simultaneously cajoling, “scum that they are,” and concluding by not having any valid children of their own.  The group think there is powerful, nurtured by a mass media that for the most is utterly convincing.  I had the good taste to want to shit down the throat of that fucking Rothschild Anderson Cooper before I realized the faggot would probably enjoy watching a young man crane his anus over his exposed incisors. Anyways, before getting too far down the logic delineating why Massachusetts, like Mecca, should be wiped off the face of the Earth, I’ll add merely that my dad once said, “Robert, you have unpopular opinions.” I could mention the professional courtesy that allegedly forbids me from making main my political beliefs nevertheless entertainer, but I think that excuse is Read More …

Anonymous Conversation

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person.  Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth. –Oscar Wilde I almost feel that this should go without saying.  Unpopular opinions can’t be aired in the public square without serious recriminations.  The state might guarantee freedom of speech, but it doesn’t guarantee you protection from the social consequences of what you say, which can often be just as devastating as criminal penalties.  It’s a conspiracy that everyone’s a part of.  We all know what the score is, and a large portion of our adolescence has been the pedagogy of what things can be said and what things cannot, particularly in mixed company.  Perhaps we would all love to speak the truth, but I imagine this isn’t the case.  Too many of us benefit from the indulgences granted by this policing of speech, which is functionally little different than a policing of thought. But it doesn’t have to be this way, particularly in light of the possibilities provided by the default anonymity of the internet.  This is something that bearded nerds discovered long before society in general was even aware of the internet’s existence.  Various different fora Read More …

Update: Week of May 29, 2017

I feel like this graph, which I’ve used before, sums up my entire life–sums up that of many, I imagine.  Been very quiet lately. If I had anything to lament, social media really isn’t social.  There’s an absolute dearth of respectable venues which genuinely engage in honest intercourse; you more or less are stuck warbling about in the deep web if you want to hear a stranger speak the truth.  That’s where our society has come to.  You have to go to the shivering shadows of the back alley to feel like you’re in the company of actual other people. Makes it difficult to interact with my audience.  I’d be better off if I made soap, but I’ve got bad habits.

The Worst Poison Ivy

This story is a confession of sorts.  I don’t feel penitent, although the regret is enormous.  I’ve already paid for this ponderous sin, as the following words will relate. There I was, bed ridden.  I’d never seen anything like it, never felt anything like it.  My hands recoiled at the mere thought of casting their digits beside the infection that blistered across the altogether surface of my lower body–nearly the entirety of both my legs and virtually that as well my heavy arms, with a smattering across the upper torso–all oozing and weeping with rivers of puss at my every shiver and unintended undulation of flesh.  I was become a monster in my own form, unable to walk, barely able to stand, suffering with terrible, unbearable heat in what healthy tissue sobbed miserably beneath the surface of my bodily horror.  We tried an ocean of topical ointment, antihistamines, some variety of clay carefully arranged about my broken pores.  Nothing worked.  Not a damn thing worked.  I didn’t arise from my bedroom for nearly two weeks.  In retrospect, I don’t know why I so stubbornly held out so long; I must have assumed the gods to have some modicum of mercy. Read More …