Scene shifts to a tavern, within the city centre
Narrator Look now all, upon this place of ill repute. Shady dealings are dealt here, with cards and with lives. The beer flows through the night and past the day, here where men pass their present and share their troubled pasts. Welcome to The Split.
Gordo Drinks to this table serving girl, so I might drink to your beauty. It is a miracle indeed that a rose like you can bloom in such a dismal place.
Narrator The man with all the pretty words is Gordo, known throughout for his charm and quick wit. A smile is ready on his lips and lady fortune seems to smile back, along with countless other ladies.
Beck Slow down my friend. Let us not fug our heads whilst we lose our money in foolish bets. An admirable poker face you have, but does no good when you hold your hand backwards.
Narrator His closest and oldest friend, Beck and Gordo are quite the double act. What Beck says about a poker face is true, for he knows of the deep wrestles rage that hides within that easy smile
Gordo Not to worry my boon companion, five hearts I have, and with that I shall win back all.
The other players at the table fold. Beck slaps his head in vexation
Gordo Well, what say you Beck. Are you in, or mere chickin?
Beck Fool! We play for the same cause and with the same money, most of which is mine. Half of which my fathers.
Gordo Pah, the further we can get from fathers the better.
The serving girl returns and smiles at Gordo
Girl There you are my lord
Gordo Thank you, my lady. Rest assured, though you serve me this drink, I would serve you forever
The girl smiles and blushes before walking away, casting her eyes back every now and then
Beck I trust she realises that when you say serve her you mean service her.
Gordo I’m sure she shall get the point. She may even understand what I mean as well. Now back to the game! Let us rob these men of all in their pockets, and then of their pockets as well.
Narrator Gamely they play, and gamely Gordo loses. Finally fate smiles at him and he is given a hand that can win all. And so bet all he does. Even Becks share becomes ensnared.
Beck Fortune best favour this small fortune you wager, Gordo!
Gordo Courage my friend! And doubtless none here have the courage to match and to call. Like the mute swan, all they may do is hiss with regal redress.
Narrator And true enough, the players do fold and do curse. Yet one among them does not, a figure shrouded by silence and shadows. Weathered hands toss a leather pouch into the fray, and Gordo feels himself being stared down by unseen eyes.
Gordo Very well oh ghost of the corner. Let us lay ourselves bare, with truth in our hands and hearts on our sleeves. Behold and bemoan! Four kings do stab at thee.
The crowd gasp and more than one man is glad he folded. Gordo goes to take the money, grinning. But the leathery hand settles on his.
Stranger Haste makes not grace, young one. The kings stab in vain. Though they think the highest of themselves, we all know the truth.
Gordo No!
The stranger shows his hand and people clap theirs
Stranger Above them lie some. Four aces shield me.
Gordo My wealth!
Beck Fathers wealth! No honour shall I bring home, nor love receive!
Stranger Foolish to put your faith in kings. They are fools themselves. Look upon the lord of hearts. No closer I say!
Gordo He…he stabs himself.
Stranger Aye, showing him the wisest of the four. Think on that, as I take my leave.
Stranger exits
Thursday, 30 October 2008
Wednesday, 29 October 2008
a playe of epyc proportins (the start anyway)
A long shadow
Men of the world doth promises make
And many a man of oaths have spake
Yet promise and oath be heavy weights
And sure as the dawn these things do break
This be a tale of promise to one
One man to other, father to son
Of words unsaid and of deeds undone
A grain of truth, a mere speck, a crumb
Narrator Behold the fair city of Arrowshorn, prized Gem in the crown of Galad, a kingdom like no other. Only fitting then, that the king himself resides there, seated in his throne in the seat of the world. Once he was a wise and just ruler, but as a rule power corrupts. His seat holds too much comfort and turns him complacent. Neglectful of his people, he concerns himself only with idleness and luxury.
King More wine and wenches. More beef and bacon. Only the best for a man in my station
Narrator Thus it falls upon those below him to make sure he stays atop. Dutiful son Elmin shoulders the burden. A subtle Atlas he is, carrying all worldly concerns with him always.
Scene shifts to Elmin in his study, hard at work
Elmin Grain imports from the east are drying up. Look west for new crops. Taxes in the slums are too high, while the temple district distracts the coffers with pretty words. What need have men of the cloth for exotic silks?
Narrator Day and night the son toils. His young pretty bride, recently wed, still awaits christening of marriage bed. Yet a secret Elmin does hide
Elmin Of fair maidens touch, I can abide. I seek not the company of boys, though that’s what some say. Yet neither flesh doth give me a rise. As fertile as dust I am. No fruit shall flow from these loins, no seed can be sown. Childless forever I’ll remain, though I must hide it, to hide my shame.
King bursts through, with favoured wench Mary
King What ho, my son! Still with your head buried in books, while your wife waits for it to be buried in her bosom. Folly I cry! Folly!
Elmin Father please, I have work to do.
King You speak true. A young maid to be laid and a grandchild made. That is the work that must be done. And thirsty work it is
The king drinks deep from his flagon and fondles Mary, who giggles
Elmin But the people must come first. For seven generations the proud family of Phearson have looked over the kingdom of Galad, protecting its citizens from all that besiege.
King Indeed, Indeed. And very soon you will be king. A better ruler than I, methinks. Yet the people are content with this old fool now, for they know that you will take my place. The eighth Phearson to wear the crown and sit within the Pillar of Tears. Yet the people must know that a ninth King will follow. If the line is broken then all illusion of stability is gone, for nought keeps us kings but mere tradition. So I implore you; sheave your sword in her scabbard. Be it long or short, broad or narrow. I once knew saw a man curved like a rapier.
Elmin There are better ways to measure the worth of a man than with a ruler. But what became of this rapier you describe?
King Hung for rape.
Elmin No doubt he was pressured by his father to produce a son
King And yet without a son you shall never rule. Do not think yourself smarter than I, child of paper and ink. It is with flesh and blood that we are made. We are borne into the world covered in the stuff. And with our flesh meeting a maids do we make more flesh. Know this; I have signed a degree declaring you illegitimate for the throne should wifey fail to grow into a more fitting form.
Elmin And what of stability? Of the great and noble family tree?
King I have branches of bastards to replace you. You are just one stalk from my crop. True you are smarter than most, but what use a plant that does not bloom. And what of your bride? I see in her eye a desire of the carnal. If you will not lie with her, then perhaps I might.
Elmin Father! Enough of this talk. I am a Phearson, of hardy stock. I shall take my bride soon.
King When?!
Elmin At hunters moon, so shall my arrow prick her.
King Excellent. Come Mary, to my chambers we go. An argument is good for the blood and makes it flow
King exits
Narrator And though the king now be full of glee, all Elmin knows is sorrow. For Hunters moon is all too soon, two weeks off the morrow
Elmin A plan I need. No feckless fool can rule. Twould be bad for all. I love my wife, and she loves me…perhaps. Would she take another for a night? Lie with him then lie that it was I that make her with child? Nay, if only so she might avoid scandal. Bah! To the city I flee, in search of some inspiration.
Men of the world doth promises make
And many a man of oaths have spake
Yet promise and oath be heavy weights
And sure as the dawn these things do break
This be a tale of promise to one
One man to other, father to son
Of words unsaid and of deeds undone
A grain of truth, a mere speck, a crumb
Narrator Behold the fair city of Arrowshorn, prized Gem in the crown of Galad, a kingdom like no other. Only fitting then, that the king himself resides there, seated in his throne in the seat of the world. Once he was a wise and just ruler, but as a rule power corrupts. His seat holds too much comfort and turns him complacent. Neglectful of his people, he concerns himself only with idleness and luxury.
King More wine and wenches. More beef and bacon. Only the best for a man in my station
Narrator Thus it falls upon those below him to make sure he stays atop. Dutiful son Elmin shoulders the burden. A subtle Atlas he is, carrying all worldly concerns with him always.
Scene shifts to Elmin in his study, hard at work
Elmin Grain imports from the east are drying up. Look west for new crops. Taxes in the slums are too high, while the temple district distracts the coffers with pretty words. What need have men of the cloth for exotic silks?
Narrator Day and night the son toils. His young pretty bride, recently wed, still awaits christening of marriage bed. Yet a secret Elmin does hide
Elmin Of fair maidens touch, I can abide. I seek not the company of boys, though that’s what some say. Yet neither flesh doth give me a rise. As fertile as dust I am. No fruit shall flow from these loins, no seed can be sown. Childless forever I’ll remain, though I must hide it, to hide my shame.
King bursts through, with favoured wench Mary
King What ho, my son! Still with your head buried in books, while your wife waits for it to be buried in her bosom. Folly I cry! Folly!
Elmin Father please, I have work to do.
King You speak true. A young maid to be laid and a grandchild made. That is the work that must be done. And thirsty work it is
The king drinks deep from his flagon and fondles Mary, who giggles
Elmin But the people must come first. For seven generations the proud family of Phearson have looked over the kingdom of Galad, protecting its citizens from all that besiege.
King Indeed, Indeed. And very soon you will be king. A better ruler than I, methinks. Yet the people are content with this old fool now, for they know that you will take my place. The eighth Phearson to wear the crown and sit within the Pillar of Tears. Yet the people must know that a ninth King will follow. If the line is broken then all illusion of stability is gone, for nought keeps us kings but mere tradition. So I implore you; sheave your sword in her scabbard. Be it long or short, broad or narrow. I once knew saw a man curved like a rapier.
Elmin There are better ways to measure the worth of a man than with a ruler. But what became of this rapier you describe?
King Hung for rape.
Elmin No doubt he was pressured by his father to produce a son
King And yet without a son you shall never rule. Do not think yourself smarter than I, child of paper and ink. It is with flesh and blood that we are made. We are borne into the world covered in the stuff. And with our flesh meeting a maids do we make more flesh. Know this; I have signed a degree declaring you illegitimate for the throne should wifey fail to grow into a more fitting form.
Elmin And what of stability? Of the great and noble family tree?
King I have branches of bastards to replace you. You are just one stalk from my crop. True you are smarter than most, but what use a plant that does not bloom. And what of your bride? I see in her eye a desire of the carnal. If you will not lie with her, then perhaps I might.
Elmin Father! Enough of this talk. I am a Phearson, of hardy stock. I shall take my bride soon.
King When?!
Elmin At hunters moon, so shall my arrow prick her.
King Excellent. Come Mary, to my chambers we go. An argument is good for the blood and makes it flow
King exits
Narrator And though the king now be full of glee, all Elmin knows is sorrow. For Hunters moon is all too soon, two weeks off the morrow
Elmin A plan I need. No feckless fool can rule. Twould be bad for all. I love my wife, and she loves me…perhaps. Would she take another for a night? Lie with him then lie that it was I that make her with child? Nay, if only so she might avoid scandal. Bah! To the city I flee, in search of some inspiration.
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
but muuuuuuuuuuuuum
My folks are pretty damn good in terms of giving me my space and letting me fuck up and learn on my own. Hell they even ever so subtley encourage me to try crazy shit and live life to the pepsi max. But theres one point that my mum fails miserably to respect my ill guarded personal borders, and swamps me with huge amounts of illegal immigrating parenting. and this is clothes shopping.
when we go clothes shopping i automatically become 8 again, and she (literally) drags me about the store, forcing me to try on pratically everything, telling me to stand up straight-don't slouch! walk around, look in the mirror and get a feel for it. and all the while attractive young shop assistants try not to laugh. and now i am the ripe old age of 20, its ever so slightly disturbing when she tugs at my waistline to see if trousers are too tight or baggy.
Course you gotta put up with it. resisting makes you look as childish as you're being treated and my dear mama is not above clouting me one if i misbehave. And hell, you're getting free gear so what right is there to complain. (note-a point of some pride in my life is that despite my parents insistince on clothing, i pay for pretty much everything else in my life, including rent. Thats why i sometimes, but not often, hate my fellow students whos folks pay for everything for them)
thought of the day-you know how on a cold day you breathe out hot and smoke/condensation appears? I've always wondered if the same happens when you fart
when we go clothes shopping i automatically become 8 again, and she (literally) drags me about the store, forcing me to try on pratically everything, telling me to stand up straight-don't slouch! walk around, look in the mirror and get a feel for it. and all the while attractive young shop assistants try not to laugh. and now i am the ripe old age of 20, its ever so slightly disturbing when she tugs at my waistline to see if trousers are too tight or baggy.
Course you gotta put up with it. resisting makes you look as childish as you're being treated and my dear mama is not above clouting me one if i misbehave. And hell, you're getting free gear so what right is there to complain. (note-a point of some pride in my life is that despite my parents insistince on clothing, i pay for pretty much everything else in my life, including rent. Thats why i sometimes, but not often, hate my fellow students whos folks pay for everything for them)
thought of the day-you know how on a cold day you breathe out hot and smoke/condensation appears? I've always wondered if the same happens when you fart
Friday, 24 October 2008
behold the casual grip of the mundane
a bit more about my voyeurism, and the strange fettishes that hide with me behind the curtains. I find it an incredibly compelling thing to see middle aged people do childish things. I don't mean petty or small things, but actual unconcious actions. for example, there was the besuited business man that complained that his tummy was sore, rubbing it for effect. Or when a woman at work swatted feebly at a fly, wanting it to go away but to scared to actually hit it. Or when I see anyone act shy or akward or nervous. Had a teacher at school that was terrified of her class, and spoke in a voice that shook along with her hands. felt kinda bad for her, and even made the schoolboy error of voicing concenrs to peers, who in turn peer down and declare "you fancy her!"
Bit foolish to assume that adults are in fact always adult 100% of the time. my own deffinition of adult is kinda wierd and pretty damn narrow. an adult is someone that is either succesfully doing the family thing, and/or doing the whole career thing. having salt in your pepper and creases in your facebook (because faces do tell stories, though as always never judge a book by its cover) certainly helps too.
thought of the day-food prices might be shooting up like rich addicts, but cider remains incredibly cheap. and you know what they say about drinking on an empty stomach. Sinister aliaince between governments and brewing companies to keep the prolitariate down??? damn you signor orwell, making me paranoid
Bit foolish to assume that adults are in fact always adult 100% of the time. my own deffinition of adult is kinda wierd and pretty damn narrow. an adult is someone that is either succesfully doing the family thing, and/or doing the whole career thing. having salt in your pepper and creases in your facebook (because faces do tell stories, though as always never judge a book by its cover) certainly helps too.
thought of the day-food prices might be shooting up like rich addicts, but cider remains incredibly cheap. and you know what they say about drinking on an empty stomach. Sinister aliaince between governments and brewing companies to keep the prolitariate down??? damn you signor orwell, making me paranoid
Wednesday, 22 October 2008
more possible fiction
My first Kiss
They say that your first kiss is the one that you judge all others by, that it’s something you will always remember. They talk shit, and if it’s a rule then I am the exception to it. Fact is I cannot remember my first kiss at all, as I was, not to put too fine a point on it, rat arse wasted.
A bit of context might be useful here. At a friends 18th, and a bunch of us were round playing videogames, talking shit and boozing. Nothing new there, but the big amazing difference that marks this occasion out from a hundred other is the fact that there were women present! Now this might not seem a big deal to all you city slickers, but back home young ladies are hard to come by, and ones that would submit themselves to our company were practically non existent.
These young ladies came from the fair town of Peebles, a fairly sinister place it must be said. We met them the worst possible way-online. Or rather birthday boy did, and took a shine to one of them. I was integrated into this whole talking online crap, ands you know I’ll admit, I went for it too. I mean Christ, someone of the female persuasion to talk to that seemed interested in me. I dared hope good things might come of it.
A meet was arranged, where birthday boy hit it off with his target and I did the exact opposite with mine. She didn’t realise this however, and I was too chicken shit to be blunt about it.
Anyhow basically she wanted to hook up with me at this party, and I wasn’t keen on it. So she gets drunk and starts crying on the staircase. Now this makes me feel about as low as I can. So I drink. A LOT. Two litres of cider and half a bottle of straight vodka. The Norsk stuff that sits at about 55%. Last thing I remember was sitting on the couch in a pool of self loathing. Beyond that memory kinda fails.
What I was told however, was this. On my way to the toilet girl crying on staircase jumps up, throws me against wall and starts making out with me. And I am in absolutely no condition to say no. Apparently she had to prop me up to stop me falling.
Not long after this I pass out. This is the only time I have done so from boozing, and it stays with me to this day. You might not think it, but I am damn careful about my drink, and switch to water when things get shaky. My friends came through for me though, and dragged me upstairs to lie in the recovery position as I sleep and spew and die.
They tell me a great story when I wake. Apparently I get up halfway through the night and try and take a piss…on the TV. But what good friends I have, they run down and get a basin, and even hold me still so I don’t miss. Exactly what parts they held is something I never want to know. My friend does have a pool table in his room though, and I have this image of them using the cues like chop sticks to direct my flow from a safe distance.
And that’s how I got my first kiss. Best part was birthday boy actually ended up going out with the girl that ever so slightly sexually assaulted me. Except cause I’m a guy I have to laugh it off and not feel all violated. Sexual inequality-not just for girls.
I’ll end with a little horror story. Obviously I reeked of vomit. When I got home I showered for a year, but could still smell it on me. All day I smelled it, until I blew my nose and discovered it was hiding up there, all crusty and old.
They say that your first kiss is the one that you judge all others by, that it’s something you will always remember. They talk shit, and if it’s a rule then I am the exception to it. Fact is I cannot remember my first kiss at all, as I was, not to put too fine a point on it, rat arse wasted.
A bit of context might be useful here. At a friends 18th, and a bunch of us were round playing videogames, talking shit and boozing. Nothing new there, but the big amazing difference that marks this occasion out from a hundred other is the fact that there were women present! Now this might not seem a big deal to all you city slickers, but back home young ladies are hard to come by, and ones that would submit themselves to our company were practically non existent.
These young ladies came from the fair town of Peebles, a fairly sinister place it must be said. We met them the worst possible way-online. Or rather birthday boy did, and took a shine to one of them. I was integrated into this whole talking online crap, ands you know I’ll admit, I went for it too. I mean Christ, someone of the female persuasion to talk to that seemed interested in me. I dared hope good things might come of it.
A meet was arranged, where birthday boy hit it off with his target and I did the exact opposite with mine. She didn’t realise this however, and I was too chicken shit to be blunt about it.
Anyhow basically she wanted to hook up with me at this party, and I wasn’t keen on it. So she gets drunk and starts crying on the staircase. Now this makes me feel about as low as I can. So I drink. A LOT. Two litres of cider and half a bottle of straight vodka. The Norsk stuff that sits at about 55%. Last thing I remember was sitting on the couch in a pool of self loathing. Beyond that memory kinda fails.
What I was told however, was this. On my way to the toilet girl crying on staircase jumps up, throws me against wall and starts making out with me. And I am in absolutely no condition to say no. Apparently she had to prop me up to stop me falling.
Not long after this I pass out. This is the only time I have done so from boozing, and it stays with me to this day. You might not think it, but I am damn careful about my drink, and switch to water when things get shaky. My friends came through for me though, and dragged me upstairs to lie in the recovery position as I sleep and spew and die.
They tell me a great story when I wake. Apparently I get up halfway through the night and try and take a piss…on the TV. But what good friends I have, they run down and get a basin, and even hold me still so I don’t miss. Exactly what parts they held is something I never want to know. My friend does have a pool table in his room though, and I have this image of them using the cues like chop sticks to direct my flow from a safe distance.
And that’s how I got my first kiss. Best part was birthday boy actually ended up going out with the girl that ever so slightly sexually assaulted me. Except cause I’m a guy I have to laugh it off and not feel all violated. Sexual inequality-not just for girls.
I’ll end with a little horror story. Obviously I reeked of vomit. When I got home I showered for a year, but could still smell it on me. All day I smelled it, until I blew my nose and discovered it was hiding up there, all crusty and old.
Fiction...?
Making it to the semi finales of the regional Pokemon battling championships
The title says it all really. And before accusations of “nerd” get hurled this was when Pokemon was still cool (like it ever became uncool) Yep, we still just had the original 151 and there was none of this pissing about with natures or hold items or the dubious ethics of cross species selective breeding
There’s only one really important thing you need to know about a pokemon tournament. Every single person will have a team all at level 99. Stupid rare candy cheat, turning what should be hours of tedious grind into minutes of tedious item replication. In my mind here’s how a tournament should play out. You begin a new game at the exact same time, are free to trade and chat, and at hourly periods are forced to battle. It makes it frantic, strategic, and full of plenty of back stabbing and broken alliances. Good training for a corporate environment
Anyway, I’d been lucky so far, matching off against incredibly inept trainers and winning by a fair margin each time. There was one idiot that decided having team entirely consisting of pikachus was a good ploy, relying on the ever so fickle paralysis gambit. My golem and snorlax swept that dream away. Then there was the fan boy, who basically had season 1’s Ashes team. Hell he even had the hat, and twisted it each time he sent one to their untimely death. If he had had the sense to evolve, things might have gotten hairy. Then there was the small child I made cry. I felt bad until he started swearing at me.
And now here I was, in the semi finales. Now the event (held at a toys R us if you were wondering) wasn’t exactly crowded, maybe fifty people in all. But a gameboy, as you well know, is fairly small. I had about eight guys crowding around my screen, as did my opponent, and I dunno about him, but the close proximity of sweaty prepubescents was getting to me.
A Pokemon battle is a lot like poker. From the outside it seems a lot of luck is involved, what with type matches, critical hits and missed status effects. But there are loads of things you can do to maximise your odds. I knew this (from online guides I’ll admit) and clearly my opponent did too. We danced around editing each others stats, hoping like hell our base stats were higher than the others. And then got to the nitty and gritty of sweeping and blocking. My snorlax was on fine form and I was well positioned to counter his. But then he pulled something unexpected out of the hat. A Taurus. I hadn’t anticipated that, and my failure to do so was the end of me. It’s hybrid attack blocker stats meant my snorlax eventually lost out and from there it was a quick clyoister ice beam rally to death. My dragonite managed to finally take it out but the damage was done and my hopes of making it to the finals of the regional Pokemon battling championships whited out with him.
Apologies to anyone that doesn’t have a clue what I’m on about. You N00bs.
Monday, 20 October 2008
A man walks into a bar...and breaks his nose
I keep see-sawing with the cold right now, alternating between flegmy death and 100 health and armour every hour or so. got caught in some nasty ass weather today, my own fault for shunning public transport in favour of booze money. I've always felt the cold more than most, and have taken to wearing hats all the time, and sleeping with (women OMFG!!!!!!!) both a duvet and sleeping bag. stupid global warming, failing to live up to its name.
Work was a fairly casual affair, like the one between me and your mother. The dull grind was routine and reasonably easy going and once again i recieve praise for my pizza rolling abilities. Also turns out boss spoke up for me when manager ranted about kitchen not being clean enough. your damn right it is when i finish up, who else bothers to pull the counters out to sweep beneath them. Its a good vibe actually, to have someone stand up for you of their own accord, so yay for that.
I walked past a burger king that i ate in a year ago and was hit with nostalgia, about sitting in there, people watching (always a facinating thing in any fast food distributor) Then I got thinking, what is the time limit on nostalgia? can you really be nostalgic about something that happened yesterday, a month, a year ago? how long does it take for the brain memory chemicals to ferment into that intoxicating shot of reminisince? to be honest I don't really care, but hey gotta say something interesting.
thought of the day-when we say we're looking for someone to challenge us, what we actually mean is-we want someone that challenges us, but eventually submits and sees things from our point of view. christ forbid they be the ones stronger than us and in the right.
Work was a fairly casual affair, like the one between me and your mother. The dull grind was routine and reasonably easy going and once again i recieve praise for my pizza rolling abilities. Also turns out boss spoke up for me when manager ranted about kitchen not being clean enough. your damn right it is when i finish up, who else bothers to pull the counters out to sweep beneath them. Its a good vibe actually, to have someone stand up for you of their own accord, so yay for that.
I walked past a burger king that i ate in a year ago and was hit with nostalgia, about sitting in there, people watching (always a facinating thing in any fast food distributor) Then I got thinking, what is the time limit on nostalgia? can you really be nostalgic about something that happened yesterday, a month, a year ago? how long does it take for the brain memory chemicals to ferment into that intoxicating shot of reminisince? to be honest I don't really care, but hey gotta say something interesting.
thought of the day-when we say we're looking for someone to challenge us, what we actually mean is-we want someone that challenges us, but eventually submits and sees things from our point of view. christ forbid they be the ones stronger than us and in the right.
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