NOTE: As an experiment, many years ago, I decided to do some free associative writing. Words that connected in my brain were written down without filter. This worked relatively well for the beginning, but soon the surreal disjointed words shifted into poetic expression. That wasn’t the point of the exercise, and nowadays it does little more than underscore how depressed I actually was. Instead of rubbing our noses in depressive self-expression, I edited that section out and combined the two attempts into one.

Ask my Know. He were no cigarette.

A start. Beginning at the crest of the flowing river starts a rolling wave through green grass and brown bark framing the picture of space travel. Hopping through lobster bisque jumps green and smiling while running, fleeing, terrified of black shadows that creep from home. Dark eyes of glowing red coals flicker, dying in the fireplace with a smoky smell of tobbacco and harsh sandpaper on the throat. A tricking water flow lands, turning stone into worth and value.

His other slight peculiarity was the habit when distracted by thought of taking up improbable positions on furniture. ~ Bill Bryson, on Charles Lyle

My Dearest Lulu,

I have met the most fascinating man, today. His name is Finnigan, and he has been assured to me of a most particularly voluminous mind. Professor Lindly — remember him, my dear? He of the flowing hair? — introduced me to Mr. Finnigan as a student of philosophy, geology, chemistry, and physics. He seems a most genial fellow, though Lindly seemed to find him eccentric. I look forward to many great and wonderful conversations with him in the future.

I am glad to hear that your brother is feeling better. Having once received a fairly serious burn on my arm from a particularly exothermic reaction, I can imagine what it must be like to loose the use of ones limb. Please extend my sympathies to him.

Dr. Prinassus

What is genre?

I’ve talked about it before, I’ve brushed past it before, I’ve even ignored it before. Is now the time to have a long-form discussion about genre?

Nah.

I can talk a little bit about it, sure, but other people have covered genre in much better ways than I ever could. My go-to example is the marvelous Ian Danskin over at Innuendo Studios, who talks about genre in this third video in his [[Who Shot Guybrush Threepwood series.

Did you watch the video? Good, because I want to jump off of a question he begged.[^fn:1] Specifically, the question: “do Video Games tend to have descriptive genre titles?”

Playing this season on Broadway, MacB! is the recent musical adaptation of Shakespeare’s seminal hit, Macbeth. Directed by proud up and coming director Joe Vanderhook, MacB! puts the full force of the best of New York’s artistic talent along side the best of classic British theatre.

The play opens with a prologue featuring the talented Elizabeth Kaine, Claire Rogan, and Kelly Fontaine as the red, blond, and black haired ‘Wyrd Sisters,’ the scantily clad mystical chorus that frames the entire play. Their opening song, ‘Double Double, (Toil and Trouble)’ sets the tone with an incredible display of pyrotechnics and a laser show that is used to supplement the finely crafted set with images of far off castles, smokey clouds, and spectral images that help accent the horror that the rest of the show promises to deliver. The song is well-crafted and danced impeccably with the frantic spasms of the performers providing a true sense of otherworldly possession, while the sharp and almost painful lyrics screamed by these three actresses betrayed their devotion to these complex and intricate characters. The completion of the first song alone caused a standing ovation that lasted over five minutes, sadly forcing the three women to hold their complex final pose no doubt far longer than they expected, but they maintained their stance with a professionalism and aplomb that is to be commended, if not celebrated.

I might be dead / but I will overcome ~ TJ Stafford, Rise Again

Congratulations! You are dead!

As a courtesy for our customers, every purchase of a Lupton & Sons economy casket includes this notice carved into the lid of the coffin for the recently deceased. This notice was provided free of charge as a complimentary service, to better prepare you for what is to come.

Many people have walked into our mortuary and asked if this life was all that there is. Does not some other life await us? We at Lupton & Sons believe wholeheartedly that your death, untimely or otherwise, need not be the end of your life!

About a year ago, I went on a brief hiatus. This was mostly done because I was feeling stressed about the content of my website, and wanted to make sure things were more polished for when I came back.

Of course, thing’s weren’t particularly polished when I came back, but nevertheless.

This time, I am going on hiatus because my new job (and a few other new projects) have cut into my writing time, and I haven’t yet found the new rhythms of my life. I need to

This story was made using the solo RPG: Monster Hunter, by La esquina del rol. Based on the Firelights system, this pamphlet RPG is about the Borderlands, and the last Monster Hunter who has the Scattergun of Destiny. They must find the Six Legendary Bullets to banish The Evil One and restore the Borderlands. The following is a list of the card-draws, rolls, and actions taken during play that resulted in the transcribed narrative:

The dragon’s rotten lips parted, a fetid cloud of swamp gas leaking from the beast’s depths. “So,” the monster spoke, “you’ve come to kill me, haven’t you?”

Vic opened her mouth in shock before she could collect her wits. “I’m here for the bullet,” she said at last, reaching out a hand to steady herself against a tree.

“Yes, then,” the dragon slowly uncoiled, its head snaking forward. “Well, I’m not interested in fighting today, so I suppose I’ll just let you have it.”

“What?” Vic could scarcely believe it. Was the dragon being honest? She certainly wasn’t feeling up for a fight, much less with a dragon and without her rifle. Would it really be that easy?

The dragon hissed, sending a spray of burning liquid over Vic’s face. “You heard me. I’m going to give you one of the six legendary bullets. You can pluck it straight from my forehead and I won’t even eat you for your trouble. How does that sound?”

This poem was made using the solo RPG: Cemetery of Swords, by Efarrisgames. I decided to devote myself to three stanzas for every pull, as I thought this would give me enough time to establish the circumstances of the pull and detail the character’s reactions. What follows are the pulls and die rolls that created the poem:

The following is one of the Songs of the Thousand Thousand, a series of epic poems detailing the histories of the many blades surrendered at the end of the Great Battle.

For those unfamiliar: During the Era of Conflict, the Great Battle was fought in the three-square league fields outside the town of Radivale. While the instigation of the battle is lost to history, knights, warriors, and mercenaries from all over the world came to take part as multiple factions, kingdoms, and armies sought to test both their opponents mettle and their own. Heroes and legends were born and killed in equal measure as new troops constantly joined the fray.

The Great Battle ended when one of the greatest heroes of the era, the Blade-maiden and Bearer of the Seven Star Fulcrum, Ell Kidarkhi, thrust her sword into the earth and walked through the surrounding conflict untouched, surrendering the battle to her fellows. She was the first of many, as each of the thousands of warriors in turn thrust their own sword into the earth and quit the field. The Great Battle, having lasted for five-hundred and twenty-three days, ended that very hour.

The swords themselves remained on the field for generations until memories of the Great Battle began to fade. Then, eager sellswords and ambitious warlords claimed these relics for their own, imbued as they were with the indomitable spirits of battle. These cursed swords brought victory and suffering to their wielders, until all who claimed the weapons either perished or renounced their bloodthirsty ways.

The Songs of the Thousand Thousand detail the journey of each of these stolen swords, and how they returned to their rightful place in the field known as The Cemetery of Swords.