Does it even matter

Sometimes I open my mouth no one really pays attention to what I say. What's do special about what I say that tells people its less important than which celebrity is dancing what dance to pull them from the D-list pit of dispair?

Passive aggressive bull shit

That's what this is. I know I've gone one about this before but how much can one person really stand before blowing up. Is direct communication really that difficult? Over two weeks ago the concept of relocating some storage boxes was addressed. No time frame was mentioned at all. I came to understand that the task was left up to my leisure. I guess I was wrong. After being away for the majority of the day I cone to find the objects in question absent and all the elements that had came to rest upon them relocated atop my compit er. One can ONLY assume that the relocation of these loose articles to be a cleaver (& I use this adjective in the loosest sense of the word) and strategic move by the other party to attract my attention to the task he was so generous to perform on my behalf. Should I thank him for his chivalrous attitude, should I ignore his valiant attempts at being a kind host, or maybe I should burn his fuck in house down. The great many things that spring to the forefront of my mind and the only option is to clean his mess and quietly fix whatever catastrophic error or loss his actions might have created. Smile and carry on as if he shat gold ingots and teared diamonds. I am totally intolerant to the classic feminine passive aggressive behavior (at least In that scenario sex is used as trade stock) and I normally would not suffer the juvenile passive aggressive actions of at male my own age let alone my elder - even those I've bested in personal achievements and miles driven from your place of birth (I didn't fact check this, so.... yeah). Argh. I need a new place to live.

Metamorphosis

You know that story by Kefka, 'metamorphosis'? It feels like I've been going through that myself, but instead of a Cockroach I'm slowly turning into my crotchety old grandfather.
I don't like it but what am I to do? everything upsets us. we push woman away with our gruffness and general disdain for everything breathing - not excluding ourselves most days.

Now I sit in a dark room, alone, not unlike the affirmation ed elder doppelganger that I am slowly beginning to emulate with near perfect clarity. I can't help but wonder if these lingering thoughts and menacing mulling are in any way similar to what ever synaptic bursts that feign conscious thought between his ears? When he retires to his dark and solitary cell is he filled with the foreboding,  sinking aloneness that I am or is my uniquely sadistic mind enjoying its self by peddling thought about never again feeling the warmth of loving contact from someone that wouldn't mind sleeping with you. Wherever these dark and painful ideas are spawned the come at full force and I have little defense against them.

<no title>

This past week I spent, what I'm told was, damn near 10 hours with a person. The truely outstanding portion of that useless anecdote was that It did not '"feel" anything like 10 hours.  We talked and talked and hugged. None of the ... Baser or more literary pusuites I would expect myself to chase when thrust into a meeting overseen a man and a woman.
Here's another urikus tidbit. This other person and I, we had dated or fooled around for a whole but damn me if I can successfully recall al the mediocre details I dips dang of her angelic aid. Slowly the specifics bleed in like sap bleeding oout of a tree in January. It'd is only through her graces that I am allowed to enjoy any reverie that includes her fair visuals.
To drive the final nail in the coffin, I know -unquestionably- that I am at cult cod our previous parting, in that life we both left. Whine to the faceted of time. I have very strong feelings but I refuse to admit them until I know whet it asthmatic I did to shatter whatever gift I had failed to recognize while I wore the ruby-quarts visor of youth and stupidity.

Nonsense making change

a tough time had by all.
Insane banana slugs creeping across the cabbage patch scouring for unused brains.
Yeah, life has been a little like that. Crazy, nonsensical and useless. Things are so insane I can't hold a thought for more than half an hour.
I have to hit the restart button at school. I have a son on board, my eldest daughter doesn't trust me because I don't have a car. (she's a kid, I can't hold that against her).
My art has suffered, I can't seem to write or sketch yet I'm still coming up with a million ideals a minute. Hell, it's taken me three days just to sit down and gather my thoughts long enough to write this much. It's not really like I have fans. I'm not doing this to get a message out into the webisphere, I'm just free-writing - clearing my head - collecting my thoughts. So neyah!
Halloween is right around the corner and for a second year in a row, I'm not looking forward to it.
Talk about an all time low. I've decided I'm going to be a werewolf for Halloween. All day long I'll dress up as a werewolf and see how many people ask, and how many of those few actually guess correctly. I'm betting on three or four people asking and two getting it right.
Maybe I'll post a pick, maybe I won't. We'll just have to wait and see.

Don't Fear The Reaper

What an opportune track to play just as I sit down and vent my thoughts for the week.
I've recently been drawn into a quirky little ecchi called Dakara Boku wa, Ecchi ga Dekinai <>. The story's about an honest pervert who appreciates all aspects of women, from large breasted women, & small chested women, brainy women, sporty women, to modest women, and timid women. Ryosuke Kaga is dedicated to protecting women. He's honestly got a lot of great qualities but all people see in him is his "kingdom" (you have to watch/read it to get that one)
How does this relate to me? Sometimes I feel just like Ryosuke. Under-appreciated and dedicated to a cause no one ever sees.

Intolerant Bastard

Failure & Mean (I prefer "Evil" it sounds like I might have a purpose). Those are the two key descriptors to the core of my personality. This is what I've come to realize. Thanks for my support structure or unbelievably honest and tough friends and family I have come to admit about myself that I am extremely intolerant of any form of thoughtless action. Case in point the driver on the freeway that flashed me (not the fun kind) because I did not accelerate or switch lanes to let her lazily drive in from the merging lane. At the core of my being is an intolerable jackass and grossly unmotivated. Being intolerable was a helpful trait a thousand years ago but today in this age of bleeding heart liberals, overly teary cry babies, allergic heart attacks waiting to happen, and super studious republicans that blame everyone else (my knowledge of political parties are a bit lacking so don't take offense). I place myself on top of that huge list of assholes that make up to gross public. I hold no illusions of myself being better. I am just as bad. I have caught myself being just as moronic because I chose to speak before I observed or some other silliness. Now I just have to figure out how to work around all that and still beat the odds and finally bite down in that juicy fruit of success.

Slow

I lay in the darkness thinking the thoughts the shadows salivate in anticipation for. I think to myself of the vast uselessness of mankind when poised against the psyche shattering utter vastness not of the physical world but of the in alculably immense casm spawned by our own sence of inescapable woe. The only vastness that is the direct spawn of our own need for closeness. In the efforts of building bridges and tightening the gap we perceive between one body and the next we cannot help but stack the building blocks of loneliness and absence. It's our own fault. These soul sucking voids might very well be the only lasting make we leave on the world or each other. Strangely enough, in creating these voids (weather by happenstance or happy accident) in these search for something that might be right in front of us we yearn to fill the gap. I don't know if that's because we truly wish no harm would come to anyone so ignorant as to venture into the photon sucking even horizon that is out scarred psyche or if we just dint care to reflect on the true nature of harm being inflicted by our masterbatory efforts to chase after a snuffaluffagus. (The imaginary fluffy ellephant for those under 30) I look upon my scarred shadow that seems to glow in the darkness with and eiry reverberating and twinkling pea soup green aura, I can't help it to bathe it in the live water squeezed from so many red meaty fruits so that mochery of my past attempts in futility no longer resemble something crafted from these meaty digits. That's when it happens. The cackling. I hear the faint cackling, a mocking sound that ebbs and flows on the warm night air breeze. A shallow hissing cackle that rides up my bare spine and rests just behind my ears almost as if this demonic message from the pits of the bells itself were listening to the cacophony of mindless echoes trapped between my ears. Gaining as much joy as an average overweight American cattle-consumer enjoying the flickering glow of their locally broadcasted sitcom. At some point I will be forced to ignore the unearthly missive and plead for sleep to over take me, praying to an unattentive god for mercy from the endless self-inflicted horrors we charish as if THAT was the point to this eccsistance. Good night; good evening; good morning

Pack of the Weeping Moon

I've started a Werewolf the Apocalypse game set in Upstate New York. My players call themselves the pack of the Weeping Moon.

Their current alpha is an albino Silver Fang Theurge Metis who has trouble assuming Crinos. She goes by 'Diana.' There are two Ahrouns, a lupus Silent Strider 'Chakran' and an ex-military lost Get, Regnar. There is one other Get of Fenris named Ivan, another lost cub this one from Russian Special Forces. There are two Philodoxs Dr. Monroe a Wendigo fringe surgeon obsessed with chemical sciences and a Uktena Mohawk named Akash. Three Ragabash round out the pack. Twin lupus Shizuka the Wendigo, Riddle-Hunter the Uktena and Blake the run-away teenager Silver Fang prince from the western coast.

#werewolf #CWOD #WTA #RPG #campaignjournal