This Vagrant Dream...

Wash me, Hold me

2008-03-02T15:15:00.003-05:00

Be a surging, rushing wave--a tidal wave.
And I mean that; I'm not just being poetic.
Be a freaking tsunami, a hurricane,
a massive destructive force that mounts on the horizon
and devastates the land.
Be a tidal wave crashing over my heart,
rushing me and drowning my life with you.
Wash over me with such enormous force,
flooding, destroying, breaking down
and carrying away with you all the debris,
the clutter and all the stakes I have set up in this world.
Throw me off my feet.
Uproot me and shatter the roof of my home.
Be a disaster;
take everything I have built,
everything I have created
that binds me to this world.
Carry me with you, forcing me under your current
so that I am uncertain
whether or not I will even
survive.
Make me trust you with my life.

And after all that--after you
are my tidal wave, after you
break me down--
be my aid.
Let me feel your arms
around me.
Reach your hands down and lift me
from out of the rubble of my life and
hold me.
Rebuild me and mold me.
Replace the clutter of my life
with heartsongs to you.
Replace the flimsy roots I had set down in this ground
with unshakable towers of your kingdom.
Make me an ethereal being,
detached from this world,
yet present enough here to do your work.

And hold me.

Oh, how very blue is you

2006-10-22T15:52:00.000-04:00

been awhile again, eh? i need to get better at that... here's a new poem, and then, an exciting explanation! yay! get inside my brain!

Oh, how very blue is you
by Justin Herter

Oh, how very blue is you
(In both furtone and in mood).

You once didhadnearly almost love
A tender whitefurredgirl with long
Long ears and purple overalls.

You once didhaddearly always played
Even as an arm you lost and even as
Cotton from a snag-rip-torn seam peaks out.

You once didhadtear’ly alltime love
The friend who promised but never did stay young
And even he “forgot the down as he grew up.”

And even as you lay there now,
Ever awake in old cedar trunk’s soul,
Counting counting counting particles of dust
And waiting w a i t i n g

W a i t i n g

W a i t i n g
For your littleboy’s never ever ever
(didhadnearly,
didhaddearly,
didhadtear’ly)
return…

Oh, how very blue is you
(In both furtone and in mood).

But at least you have your whitefurredgirl
To hold onto ‘til he does,
Right?
---------------------------------------------

Okeedokee, so this poem is about my very favoritest stuffed animal from when I was a kid--a blue mouse that everyone mistook for a bear. His name was Mousy. I believe I acquired him when I was 1 year old and didn't let him go til i was (must have been about) an early teenager. (I know, what a sissy I am, right?)

Stanza 2: One of my favorite things I remember playing with Mousy was that he was madly in love with another stuffed animal of mine, A white rabbit with purple overalls who I named Gertrude after the author of the Boxcar Children books. Anyway, Mousy was always chasing after Gertrude, but never did end up professing his love for her. They were always "just friends."

Stanza 3: His left arm fell off early on in his life while I was playing with him. It never did get sewed back on...

Stanza 4: The line "forgot the down as he grew up." is borrowed in paraphrase from line 10 of E. E. Cummings' poem anyone lived in a pretty how town.

Stanzas 4-7: Of course, I eventually grew out of my childhood (it took a long time though, I assure you) and Mousy and Gertrude were placed in my family's old cedar trunk, where outgrown toys that are too prescious to give away go to sleep forever. I imagine though that Mousy isn't really sleeping... he's still there waiting for his best childhood friend to return. And I wonder if he ever did profess his true love?

In God's Office

2006-09-27T16:29:00.000-04:00

In God’s office,
snooping around
the other day,
I discovered the blueprints
to Oblivion—
the carefully calculated
plans for the End of the World.
But before I had time
to read how time dies,
my elbow got in the way
of a cabinet and jostled
the precariously perched hand-basket
atop ‘til it toppled over,
and out spilled Hell of it,
and splattered absolutely everywhere,
and made a real horrendous mess,
and I think I might have just
ruined the World’s End,
and the room stinks like sulfur now,
and the Devil wants a formal apology,
and I know this stain’ll never wash out,
and why couldn’t it have just been
a coffee instead?
…
Thank God for Forgiveness and Grace.

some thing i already spent

2006-09-24T03:22:00.000-04:00

around Let’s run and
with the sun play and
ticklish grass will join
Our laughter;;;
but it rains today and
, for that matter, We
already sold Our childhood
at a fleamarket for some
thing i already spent,,,
so i’ll with the
fleas just dance and
besides
breathing you've stopped
anymore
anyway…

the Stars are all falling

2006-09-22T16:32:00.000-04:00

the Stars are all falling
Springtime is dying
Autumn inhabits
this midnight.
the branches that held them
suddenly release them
to fall to the ground
now ablaze.
and what will the Sky think
when she finds them all missing?
her children have
all abandoned

her

cold. and
now the Stars—they’re all dy
ing; Winter’s arriving
with these fall
ing

f
a
ll
in
g

f
a
l
l
i
n
g

S
t
a
r
s
.

[the spacing's different in the real version, but it doesn't translate well to blogger... i sketched an illustration as welllll... wanna see?]

this wont hurt :much:

2006-09-11T01:50:00.000-04:00

"and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death"

--e.e cummings

So it's back to school, is it? Well three cheers then.
Rummaging through some old notebooks, I came across a few doodles I really liked... I scanned them and finished one in photoshop (working on the other few still)... for your emo-rific viewing pleasure...

(a very wise man once clicked here for a better view)
Anyyyhoo
Haven't had much time for writing lately, which is sad because I'm so close to being done with that book of poetry. However, it is really good to be back at school, chillaxin with all my friends and whatnot. I really miss my sister though; she decided to go all the way down to Florida for her greater education. She's pretty much one of my closest friends and it's somewhat depressing that she's half a country away now after she was so close to coming here for college (we'd probably get on each other's nerves anyway though if we went to the same school). I'm really glad she's happy down there and everthing .still....

Grr... it's getting kind of late and I need sleep... I'll write something more humorous later.....

Dear diary,
Today
I resolved to
live as if yester
day was my last
day
to be alive
andIthinkI'll
start by
stalking
sl
ow
ly
around and
biting people in the
head since
(I guess )thatmakesme:
a zombie?

topsy-turvy curly fries

2006-08-30T19:05:00.000-04:00

I went to Arby's yesterday for lunch (a cowboy hat told me that their roast beef sandwich is delicious). Upon recieving my warm paper bag of ultimate deliciousness, however, I made a startling discovery--my curly fry conatiner had been ever so carelessly placed upside down in the bag! Now this irked the hell out of me (which, I might add, is extremely difficult to do since the dimension of hell doesn't [i don't think] reside physically within my body... it happened anyway, though). And I had been nothing but polite and jovial with them while ordering my food....

Luckily, at the bottom of my now tainted bag, I found a self-addressed comment card. I filled this out completely, giving everything high marks, save for my side order. What follows is a paraphrase of some of the questions on the card, and my answers to them:

Why did you choose Arby's today?
For the yummy taste and the cute cowboy hat logo.

How was your food?
Great, except the upside down curly fries.

Where would you have gone today if not Arby's and why?
Barbados, because it's warm.

What could we do to get you to return to Arby's more frequently?
Not put curly fries upside down in the bag. Also, free pony rides.

Any additional comments?
The Phantom of the Opera was loosely based on true events.

I'm hoping that my comments will cause a drastic reform in Arby's curly fry packing policies.

Start at the beginning...

2006-08-26T02:36:00.000-04:00

I'm sure the book I'm reading had at very least a small part in the spark of inspiration that spawned this idea (that's not to say, however, that what follows is based at all on the content of the book, it just served as a springboard...)....

I used to looove to draw mazes when I was younger, and now I love to write (I still love to draw as well, but for some reason not mazes so much). So here is the bastard offspring of these two loves of mine.
Poor kid.

(Fortune cookie say you click here for larger happy time, ok?)

Anyway, I'm tired and I'm hungry and I think I'm going to sleep and eat a pop tart now. But probably not in that order.

an enticing house

2006-08-18T14:00:00.000-04:00

"...and so I renewed my kisses with even greater enthusiasm, caressing and in turn devouring their dark lips, dark with wine and fleeting love, an ancient memory love had promised but finally never gave, until there were too many kisses to count or remember, and the memory of love proved not love at all and needed replacement, which our bodies found, and then the giggles subsided, and the laughter dimmed, and darkness enfolded all of us and we gave away our childhood for nothing and we died and condoms littered the floor..."

--Johnny Truant, The Navidson Record, House of Leaves, p. 36

I recently began reading Mark Z. Danielewski's "House of Leaves" and am thouroughly impressed. I bought the book because of this-and-that that I heard about it online, but even all the this-and-that caused me to expect far less than what I got. I'm only 60 pages into its near 700, but the remeaning pages are not a forboding 700, but a distance I look very forward to traveling. I expected a good horror book, and it is quickly becoming that, but it is also so much more. It is commentary on life, and the things we fill it with... the voids we try to cover with fleeting things, and even that is only a small part... there is so much more that I have yet to discover about what this book is about. In any case, it's very good.

In other news, I'm almost completely finished with a series of about 30 poems that all link together to tell a narrative story (though each poem remains individual and has its own theme and can be enjoyed singular of the anthology). I'm also illustrating many of them, and hope to get it all published in the relatively near future. Should I allow you to read one of the poems? I dunno.... you really wanna?
ok, well i GUESS i could let you read just one....

Part 5: Lost in the City

Taking it all in,
This glorious City—
So filled with light—
So many sights!
Will I have time to see them all?

I’m here to stay
For the fun and all the promises
Of the City.
I’m here to play—
No responsibility here!
No worries, no cares,
Not here in the City.

“Walking down Main Street,
Take a right on Self-Indulgence Avenue.
Continue eight blocks
And soon you’ll come
To the corner of Fourth and Pleasure.
There’s a great place I know there—
Lusty’s Bar and Grille—
How about it stranger?
Meet me at seven
For a bite
And maybe a little
Mutual indulgence?”

That’s what she said to me—
The girl on the tram
With a delicate wink
Just after I watched her
Stab the man
She was with.
(I’m sure she had a reason.)
Even with a blood-spattered dress
I’m afraid I must confess,
She did look quite enticing.
I think I might take up her offer;
She seemed like a nice enough girl.
(She must have had a reason.)

But for now
I’ve come to my stop;
Off the train,
I’m lost—
Lost in the City.
I’ll find my own way,
No need for a map.

I walk down the boulevard,
Passing numerous shops
Pawning off their
Earthly delights.

Tarts and toys,
And wine always
Will lift a sorrowful soul.
Lavish and lusty ladies
Pose in apartment windows,
Wearing near nothing at all;
Nonchalantly they vend
Hearts on puppet-strings,
As well as hearts
With no strings at all.

This air smells so sweet,
So sweetly toxic.
It feels so nice,
So nice to be lost in the City.

Then again,
I’m not really lost
If I don’t wish to be found.

There ya go.... part five of the series... if you want to discover how the meeting at Lusty's goes, however, you'll simply have to read the book once it's published (At the Corner of Fourth and Pleasure is part nine in the series).

K, well that does it for today.... oh and i do have so much more to tell of my travels through time... but not today... maybe i'll tell you yesterday....

The Hundred Year Hiatus

2006-08-07T19:49:00.000-04:00

My my, it has been a while, hasn't it? I know i have >millions< of readers who are just baffled at my long pause between updates. [And yes, it was a long pause--longer than some of you may know.]

While the date of my last update appears to be the 30th of April, it has been much
longer {for me} than only 3 and some fraction months.

you See (no you d'ont), iwaskidnappedby

my se. lf
{i can see i just lost
some of you there}

the me that kidnapped me
came from an alt>ernate>ive>>>futu>re[wind<<] (one in which [obviously]
timetravelevartemit has been invented)

i told myself
"you are in quite considerable danger"
to which I promptly
replied "?whatthehell"

b.ut

,the next thing i knew (or {liked to think} i thought i knew)
i was whisked away
to another time,anotherplace
where i and i lived for a while
under myown learning from me
about the future of us

to mAke a lonG story short.er, i had to kill
mySelf
[in another timeline]
in order to save me

allinall,idobelieve
I'vE been gone a grand total of nigh
a century
fixingandpatchingup
history
because it was me who broke it
to [<<>start]. with

cellular, modular, interactivodular

2006-04-30T15:26:00.000-04:00

I can't get the banana-phone song out of my head. *sigh* Do I really want it to leave, though? I like to think I don't.

So I was thinking last night (which I do on occasion, though I have been trying to cut back), and I got to wondering if my generation will continue communicating avidly with instant messenger even as we get old and such. (Yes, this kind of pondering keeps me wide-eyed many a night.) I mean, growing up so dependent on this technology, I can only see us still utilizing it as we grow into careers and, eventually, retirement, etc.; while are kids are all into some crazy new-fangled means of comunication--maybe telepathic chips in their heads or some such marriage of man and machine.

I leave you with this life-enriching line that has gotten me through many a dark and lonely valley:
"Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, banana phone; ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, banana phooooooone...."

Mayhem

2006-04-29T14:10:00.000-04:00

Well, it's been a little while hasn't it? Sorry about that.... anyway, I decided to hit you with an excerpt from a novel I've been working on. It's a sci-fi/ fantasy/ action/ comedy/ parody titled "Mayhem." The excerpt comes from the first chapter and the footnotes are very important, so make sure you read those as well. Let me know what you think....

Excerpt from Mayhem, Chapter 1
Intellectual property of Justin Herter

A figure that could have easily been mistaken for a swiftly passing shadow sliced through the darkness in the outskirts of a rural little Asian fishing town. Not a single lamp lit the gloom of the small coastal village tonight—no one was alive to light them.
Hyangsook paused at the crest of a hill overlooking the settlement, her long black scarf flapping regally behind her as she stood in a strikingly cliché, yet flattering and intriguing pose. Her masked face barely protected from the cold, cutting wind—her narrow emerald eyes cutting right back.
She bore no sentiment whatsoever for her actions. In the past four-and-one-half minutes she had swept into the sleepy village and silently ended the life of all three-hundred-twelve of its inhabitants. That’s just the kind of thing she did with her evenings—assassinating entire villages and such. She was a ninja, and that’s just the way ninjas roll. That’s not to say, however, that Hyangsook—or any ninja for that matter—ever killed without reason.[1] Tonight’s ruthless slaughter was particularly necessary; this specific village had been abetting pirate forces for far too long, despite the numerous warnings sent by the ninja clans. The Kaze-Norite[2] clan’s intelligence reported a high-ranking pirate official and his men would make their beds there tonight so they sent her, their most skilled warrior, to end the tiny town’s insolence.
She stood now at the apex of the lonely hilltop overlooking the soulless shell of a town. The fishing boats swayed uneasily in the black waters and the eerie sound of dull harbor bells rang with a somber tone—ringing a ghostly farewell to the newly dead.
Despite her heightened levels of awareness, she hadn’t even the tiniest inclination that a pair of wide blue eyes was gazing at her from the concealment of nearby shrubbery. With a sudden rustle, the lanky man pounced from his hiding place behind her. In the space of a blink and seemingly without the slightest movement, she whirled around in a combat stance with her tantō[3] at his neck.
“I see we’ve reached yet another stalemate,” he said with a wink as she heard the familiar click of the revolver being cocked at her temple.
“How did you escape?” she demanded.
“You know, we really must stop meeting like this, princess—what with you killing all my men and such,” he said, ignoring her question, “As much as I adore seeing your breathtaking smile, the loss is so unnecessary. If you wanted to see me, you could have just asked—”
“Mattaku no baka!” She snarled the Japanese insult as she did a quick double back flip away from him.
“Aw, you’re so adorable when you’re all mad and assassiny and such,” he grinned and tipped his tri-corner hat as he took a long step backward.
She replied with a quick flip of her wrist and three shuriken[4] flying in deadly succession toward him. He dodged them each with speed and agility, while still maintaining his suave composure.
“If you had wanted to dance,” he bowed gracefully to avoid another knife, “you needed only to ask, lovely.”
“Your cockiness sickens me,” she said as she reached for the katana[5] strapped to her back.
“Oh come off it, love; I know you’re madly infatuated with me and don’t really wish to kill me.”
“And how is that?” she asked, stalling him as she drew the sword from its sheath
“I’m far too pretty,” he replied with another trademark wink of his sparkling blue eye, “besides; you could have done it by now if you really wanted too.”
“What of you then? You have yet to fire a shot….”
“Me? Strike a lady? Never, m’dear,” he said calmly. He whirled and flipped over her as she suddenly charged him. Her katana sliced through thin air.
“You really are quite a bit more agile than most pirates I’ve met, Finch,” she said coldly and stepped toward the nearby tree line.
“What’s this now?” he inquired with mock surprise, “Was that a compliment that just escaped those pretty lips of yours? I do believe there is hope for this relationship yet, dearest!”
She threw him a final icy glare before jumping silently into the dark branches above.
“I really do love these little get-togethers of ours,” he called after her, but she was already gone deep into the forest.
A few short moments later, the distant trees rustled and shook slightly at the whooshing wings of a great beast taking to the air from a hidden perch, Hyangsook saddled on the creature’s back. The leathery wings of the mighty animal beat swiftly several times before holding steady as she glided off, silhouetted against the silver moon. The ancient beast seemed to cut through the air with less effort, and far more grace, than a guillotine through the neck of a French aristocrat.
Quincy Bloodfinch thrust his hands deep into his pockets and began whistling a cheerful ditty as he ambled blithely down the hill toward the gutted village. His hiding, fighting and pseudo-romancing antics had caused him to miss the departure of the air-ship that was meant to carry his men and their precious cargo home. No matter, though, Wimbledon would be waiting for him by the docks.
Quincy meandered through the deathly silence of the recently vacated town, still whistling. He had no fear of the deceased and cared little for the superstitions and omens on which many of his calling relied. The harbor bells still resounded with their monotonously eerie funeral song as he neared the origin of the sad tune. The waves lapped with steady rhythm against the derelict dock down which he now trod, lending their talents to the Dockside Symphony of Despair.
Quincy made his way down the length of the dock with a steady waltz, right up to the very end. He made the slightest pause before his right foot stepped off the edge as though with enough determination he could continue his course on the thin sea air. The split tail of his ragged overcoat fluttered up behind him as he dropped toward the steadily churning surface of the water. A moment later, he rose above the waves on the back of his best friend, a Pelagic Thresher affectionately known by Quincy as Wimbledon.[6] Wimbledon leapt high into the air with Quincy clutching tightly to his back before riding the waves home.

***

Higgins was frightened. He was the sole survivor of the slaughtered fishing town (or so he thought) and the only one to make it to the waiting air-ship. The air-ship carried him and the precious cargo back to Foggy Island, but none of the other hands, as they were all recently deceased. Higgins, well intentioned as he may be, had no blooming idea that the Dread Captain Bloodfinch’s only son and heir to his empire of piracy had survived the attack, and was at this moment nearer the island than he could guess. He assumed Quincy lay dead with the rest, and was now biting his lip hard and twiddling his fingers in apprehension because he had just had the opportunity to inform the Dread Captain this dire, though entirely erroneous, piece of information.
“He’s WHAT!” demanded the enraged captain through clenched teeth and a matted dreadlock beard.
“D-dead, my lord,” stammered the cowering brigand as he bowed low before his captain, “Not a one of them survived the slaughter; I alone escaped to the air-boat. I am truly sorry my—” his statement ended prematurely by the sharp staccato of a pistol blast. Higgins groaned as he bowed a little lower before collapsing.
The Dread Captain Gregori Bloodfinch, smoking gun in hand, stood from his imposing throne built of the bones of his less than fortunate enemies and paced the breadth of the torch-lit great hall. Two henchmen who had been standing silently by dragged the corpse of Higgins out of the way, as was their grim duty all too habitually.
The captain pondered his predicament in grave silence as he paced back and forth. His only son was now dead, along with the entire crew of a gunship. Who now would continue ruling his hard won empire and see all those bloody ninjas to their fated deaths?
The captain awakened from his depressed daze as the large wooden door boomed open and the voice of his son echoed off the rafters.
“Good evening father,” Bloodfinch the younger said in a chipper tone as he marched into the hall. Then, with a glance at the body that lay to the side, “Aw, you didn’t shoot poor ol’ Higgins did you?”
Bloodfinch the elder stared with eyes frosted in disbelief at his son.
“Yes, but he said ye were dead…” the Dread Captain’s voice trailed off.
“Well, as you can clearly see, I am quite alive father,” Quincy replied, then added, “‘Twas a good man, that Higgins; shame he couldn’t get his facts straight.”
“Are ya sure ye no ghost?” inquired the captain as he prodded his son’s shoulder with a bony finger, making certain he was indeed of solid material.
“Quite. Now can I get a coffee please? I have a few matters of some importance to discuss with you, Father.”
It had always baffled the Dread Captain as to why his son had such peculiar mannerisms and affinities for a pirate, such as his preference of coffee over pirate booze. He thought he had raised him right; Quincy grew up in an atmosphere of pure and absolute piracy since baby-hood, yet still refused to partake of many things commonly associated with their barbaric order.
Another peculiarity was his obstinate insistence on remaining clean-cut and shaven; he claimed facial hair got in the way of his coffee and found it frankly itchy and uncomfortable. Quincy was quite the unconventional pirate, but a very good pirate nonetheless so his father tolerated his unusual whims.
“It’s about the booty,” Quincy said with a worried look as a henchman handed him a crudely crafted clay mug.
“Go on.” The well-weathered, yet husky old captain sat back down in his intimidating—and, according to Quincy, rather tacky—skeletal throne and gestured for his son to continue. He had an apprehensive look in his one good eye.
Quincy continued, “Don’t worry, it’s all accounted for and all.” He paused for a moment as if unsure or uneasy about how to continue. “However, there is more of it—I mean, more than there should be.”
“You’re saying we ‘ave more treasure’n what we robbed?” inquired the older buccaneer.
“Yes.”
“And this be a problem… how?” the Dread Captain asked with almost sarcastic inquisitiveness. “I ‘ave no qualm with treasure what be magically appearin’ in me hold! Perhaps Davy Jones be smiling up on us.” He said with a wink. “It’s a good omen, boy; what be ye worried over?” He bellowed a laugh.
The troubled look remained in Quincy’s eyes, even with his father’s jesting. “This unexplainable increase in inventory doesn’t worry you in the least?” he tried.
“Not in the least m’boy. It’s more loot; this should be seen as a good thing, not an’thing ta be troublin’ over,” replied the Captain. “Besides, t’ain’t it possible it was simply an overlooked piece?”
“It’s possible I suppose.” Quincy knew that it was exactly the opposite of possible; he was too careful and observant to miss anything like this. After all, it was a fairly large thing to miss when taking inventory.
“What exactly be our new acquisition, anyway?”
“A statue,” said Quincy quite plainly. “A very large statue.”
“A ‘ole bloody statue? Well then, this be quite extraordin’ry! What be it a statue of, prey tell?”
“It doesn’t seem to resemble anything in particular really—purely abstract. It’s a rather largish metal spire with a peculiar blue orb set in the base.”
“Is it… spiky?” the Captain asked with genuine concern.
“Spiky? Er, well I suppose you could say that…”
Quincy’s father interrupted him, “Perfect! I was lookin’ for something spiky and foreboding what ta set in the center of the courtyard! Your mysteriously appearing statue sounds rather perfect, and I be somewhat partial ta the color blue.”
“Very well then; I’ll have some hands move it from the air-ship’s hold to the courtyard.” Quincy decided not to expound any further on his apprehensions over the object. He did not mention the unnerving glow the blue orb maintained or how it had felt very warm to the touch when they moved it from the gunship to the air-ship the night before the attack. Rather, he mentioned his sudden necessity for more coffee, much more strongly brewed.
“Oh, and some for Wimbledon as well,” he added as he made his way out of the great hall.

----------------------
[1] It is notable that “reason” to a ninja is not what normal humans might typically see as reason. For instance, you or I might not see any reason in killing a man simply because he accidentally kicked a piece of gravel into our shin; in fact, we might not even notice it. However, a ninja, whose senses are all at least 36 times more acute than ours, would most likely perceive a piece of gravel striking their shin as early warning of an assassination attempt. This would probably result in a lethal roundhouse kick to the face of poor mister gravel kicker before he could even blink.
If you so much as look at a ninja the wrong way, be prepared, because the next thing you’ll be looking at is your body as your head flies away from it before your brain realizes that it’s been severed from your spinal cord and dies. It is very important, therefore, that you are always extremely courteous to everyone with whom you come in contact because ninjas frequently traverse our streets in disguise and you never know when you may be interacting with one. Also, always be wary of loose gravel underfoot.

[2] Kaze Norite is Japanese for “wind rider” or “wind passenger” and is pronounced Kah-zay No-ree-tay.

[3] Short, dagger-like sword.

[4] Small throwing knives or stars.

[5] Traditional Japanese long sword.

[6] The Pelagic Thresher is a species of Thresher shark common to tropical and sub-tropical Indo-Pacific waters, including Asia. It is known, as all threshers, for the extremely long upper fin of its tail.
Wimbledon was found as a pup playing in the reefs close to the shore of Foggy Island by a young Quincy Bloodfinch out for a stroll. Quincy, at his age of curiosity, spilled a sip of his coffee near the young shark to see if it would take to it. Wimbledon, having never tasted anything as lovely as espresso before, insisted on following Quincy wherever he could and they were friends and playmates from that day on.
Quincy taught Wimbledon many tricks, including leaping from the water to whip an oncoming tennis-ball with his long tail. Eventually, the shark could manage this feat with such speed and accuracy that it caused Quincy to stumble upon a suitable name for his finned companion.

A vibrant world of color

2006-04-20T14:43:00.000-04:00

I've always been fond of photoshop, but until recently all my work with it has been pure photoshop paintings coupled with photo-manipulation. Yesterday, however, I decided to try coloring a hand drawn image with photoshop; I think it turned out fairly well. The above are two of the images I colored (bigger, better versions reside at my gallery, and the original ink sketches are here)

I've been drawing a lot lately, and will be posting many more delicious images here in the relatively near future (depending, of course, on my current laziness level, which, right now, resides somewhere between procrastination and sleepy).

In other news, I have two massive papers due tomorrow and have yet to start either of them! Yipee! Maybe a fierce band of pirates will ravage my campus and all classes will be cancelled due to death and/or pillaging. One can only pray....

A picture is worth a thousand words... but not always better.

2006-04-15T23:11:00.000-04:00

I have recently been introduced to the illustrious world of "MUDding" (thanks to Ialie) . She informed me of this apparently "sweet" game called Lusternia.

Now, dear readers, I myself am incredibly fond of all manor of RPG's and MMORPG's. (During my 10-day free trial of World of Warcraft last year, playing that game became slightly higher on my list of priorities than breathing--thank God the two never conflicted with each-other.) So, naturally I became very excited at the apparent depth Lusternia offered (18 races, 12 classes, and over 1500 skills--all draped across an incredibly rich fictional multi-planar universe complete with deep history and all), and delved into the character creation process with much enthusiasm and zest (possibly more zest than Olive Garden, even). I ended up creating a Viscanti in the guild of Geomancers named Samarutaw.

Upon entering the gameworld, my heart initially sank to realize it was all text--not at all what I had expected after the detailed illustrations of all the various races. At first, I saw this as a detriment, but decided to give it a try anyway--if only out of politeness. Oh sweet cheesecake, is that a choice I'm glad I made.

After getting used to the controls (which are similar to a few text-based adventure games I used to play during calculus on my TI-89--commands like typing "n" to go north, or "cast blast fink" to magically attack a dirty fink and "get fink" to pick up said fink's corpse), I found myself deeply immersed in a world that, while invisible to my physical eyes, plays vividly in my mind. The lack of graphics in MUDs, I quickly realized, is what makes them so d--- enjoyable. In games like WoW, there is a specific way the world looks, and that's just the way it is, take it or leave it. With Lusternia and other text-based RPG's you build your own conceptions of the world (this means absolutely FULLY customizable character appearance ;) and is incredibly conductive to a growing imagination. Also, since the cost of maintaining the game is so low, it's free to play forever. Friggin snazzy.

I highly recommend checking out Lusternia, or any good MUD.... You may find yourself pleasantly surprised, if you're into that sort of thing. It will probably eat your soul, though--I've already devoted upwards of 11 hours to this game in just the past two or three days.

Happy Easter to all of you, and may your pouches be filled with gold pieces. Happy questing.

"Adults Only" in Online Gaming

2006-04-12T10:46:00.000-04:00

Anyone that knows me well enough will tell you that I absolutely love to mess around and have a good time. I'm very fond of being entirely random and crazy wherever I go. However, some things deserve serious consideration; one such thing is detailed in the following essay. If you don't agree with my stance, that's absolutely fine--I'm not trying to start an argument or say I know exactly what's right and wrong--simply my opinions. I am not trying to judge anybody in any way; I can't stand judgmental people and I know I've done too much wrong in my life to even consider placing myself on that high and mighty pretentous throne from which I can cast icy glares of condemnation. Hehe--I just got a sweet mental image of me on a throne... and the throne is made of the bones of all my fallen enemies... hehehe... K, anyway, here's my opinion.

A recent CNN news article[1] discusses a relatively new trend in gaming that has been slowly emerging to the masses over the past few years. Online “games” such as “Naughty America: the Game,” which is set to launch early this summer, revolve around individuals interacting via the internet and a simulated three-dimensional, cartoonish environment to flirt, date, and even have virtual sex (or, more accurately, to watch their computer-generated counter-parts flirt, date, and have sex) all without leaving the comfort of their computer screen. The article states the following:

Flirting and dating have been rife in online games like “Everquest” and “World
of Warcraft”—even leading to marriage between players—despite lack of romantic
or sexual features in the games. On the other hand, sex-oriented games like
“Playboy: the Mansion” and “VirtuallyJenna” have been single-player games with
no online component, and thus no interaction between players. This new crop of
adults-only games would combine the player-player interaction of the online
games and the graphic sexuality of the single-player games.[2]

The website for the game “Naughty America” urges players to “throw off inhibitions” and “be the wild child you always dreamed of.”[3] It even provides the capability to not only see the computer rendered version of your internet play-partner, but the real flesh-and-blood person as well, if they choose to take advantage of the webcam ability. This, coupled with the profile builder (where one can lie about their appearance and personality as much as they like in order to seem desirable), seems like it will make the game an absolute haven for internet predators and stalkers.

The game will undoubtedly receive a rating of “adults only” by the ESRB[4] which will likely deter most retailers from carrying the title; most venders refuse to sell any game with an AO rating. However, the game can still be sold online and at some other locations (companies are currently looking into the idea of selling games at outlets that already card consumers, such as liquor stores).[5] No matter where the games like “Naughty America” are sold, however, there is no way of absolutely ensuring that they will not fall into the hands of eager and clever enough minors.

The media already often portrays relationships (and all that they include) as nothing more than a game; now sex is truly becoming nothing more than that—just a game to be played on a computer screen for pleasure. This mentality rips apart the conventional view of marriage and commitment and causes such things as multiple partners and cohabitation to be viewed as socially acceptable, and even “beneficial” in aiding in the finding the “perfect” mate. (In actuality, there is a 40-85% increased risk of marriages preceded by cohabitation ending in divorce.)[6] The mentality that this escalating trend perpetuates is nothing less than devastating, whether America realizes it or not.

Pornography and its associates have long been sewing seeds of destruction throughout the lives and relationships of individuals. Now, taking the guise of games like “Naughty America,” they are becoming even more socially acceptable, domesticated, and “tame.” The mindset proposed by such “games”—relative morality, selfishness, lust, absence of social and physical repercussions for “sleeping around,” and the ever present voice proclaiming “if it feels good, do it”—brings society ever closer to the inevitable bitter murder of the traditional, commitment-honoring values people were once raised to respect. This tainted view of love is absolutely sickening, yet so appealing to the masses simply because it seems so harmless; this is what makes it so destructive—the ability to crawl with unobserved blood-stained claws right into a person’s home and poison them to death without them ever noticing. The band Staple declared quite poetically, “Thinking of you…. Amazed by your disguise, you look so beautiful with death in your eyes.”
After all, it is only a game, right?

Notes:

[1] Associated Press, “Video games get very, very naughty.” CNN 7
April 2006, 10 April 2006 http://www.cnn.com/2006/TECH/fun.games/04/07/online.sex.games.ap/index.html.

[2] Associated Press.

[3] Naughty America: the Game, 11 April 2006 http://www.naughtyamericathegame.com/html/about/.

[4] “The ESRB is a non-profit, self-regulatory body that
independently assigns ratings, enforces advertising guidelines, and helps ensure
the responsible online privacy practices for the interactive entertainment
software industry,” according to their official website. http://www.esrb.org/.
Current game ratings
are as follows: EC (early childhood), E (everyone), E10+ (everyone ten years and
older), T (teen), M (mature, ages 17+), and AO (adults only, ages 18+). Valid ID
is required in most (but not all) states to purchase M and AO rated games.

[5] Associated Press.

[6] “Correlations of Divorce rates with other factors.” The
Divorce Reform Page, 28 September 2004, Americans for Divorce Reform. 12 April
2006 http://www.divorcereform.org/cor.html.

Third time's the charm....

2006-04-11T23:36:00.000-04:00

I re-re-pierced my lip tonight--this is the third time now. I had it done professionally last year at my old college, and let it grow closed after only a week when I went home for break (my parents weren't too fond of it). I repierced it with a sewing needle myself (sterilized, of course) a couple months ago and had it for a good long time before going home for spring break and letting it grow closed again. Tonight I let my friend Renee do it for me because she's really into inflicting pain on people or some jazz (just kidding). Hopefully I can get a chance to get one of those snazzy clear plastic "invisible" piercing retainers before I go home this weekend for Easter; if not, I guess I'll probably be seeing a fourth piercing not too far down the road....

I reeeeally love how lip piercings look; I don't know why, I just find them insanely attractive--tantalizing even. Also, I think piercings can be very artistic in this day and age--not simply as a chance to rebel against the social norm anymore. In fact, piercings are rapidly becoming the social norm for my generation. I predict that in ten or twenty years the rules about visible piercings in the workplace will begin to undergo a drastic change, and, not too long after that, you will see managers with visible tattoos and metal bars through their eyebrows. Maybe. Hopefully.... because that would be uber cool.

I doodled some more sweet cartoons during class today when I was bored, but I haven't scanned them yet. I'll post them later.

I need to think of something more creative than just my random thoughts and musings for my posts from now on...

From the Margins....

2006-04-10T21:11:00.000-04:00

So I've been drawing in the margins again.... Nothing good will ever come of this, I'm sure. Care for some free samples? Well I'm sorry because you're getting them regardless

The top two sketches originated as me trying miserabley to emulate the style of one of my absolute favorite artists--Jhonen Vasquez--but without actually copying or stealing his style. I'm not sure if it worked, but I like the results regardless I suppose.

The bottom sketch is just a xenomorph (from the "Alien" movies) that my pen just decided to regurgitate the other day....

Today was zombie day in my college writing class and we learned all about zombies--their wiles and charms, how to thwart them effectively (chainsaws or shotguns are your best bet), etc. Actually, we learned about comma usage, but I already know enough about that (or so I think, anyway), so I pretended we were learning about zombies instead. It was alot more fun that way, though I'm sure Prof. Runyon wondered why I had such a crazed look in my eye....

I suppose here would be a good place to mention that if you ever want to see any of my other art or read any of my numerous writings, you would be wise to visit my deviant art page at www.ductapecrazy.deviantart.com.

Brand Spankin' New

2006-04-10T16:52:00.000-04:00

So I just created this blog today (as if I really need another gaping web-based maw to suck my life away--I'll probably end up dismantling my Xanga now though, anyway). Almost all my other usernames for any other website involve something like "ductapecrazy." However, since I really haven't been doing anything too absurdly crazy with duct tape of late, I decided to name this one after a more serious passion of mine: writing.
I absolutely love to write all manner of poetry and fiction (mainly sci-fi, fantasy, and macabre, as far as the fiction aspect goes). My writings are birthed from my dreams, which are constintly wandering all the twisted avenues of my mind, hence "This Vagrant Dream." Ta-da! I feel accomplished for today. *big smile*

I guess we'll just see where this road leads....