A Continent of Banalities

  Today's character is based on a poem and an illustration. It delights and mystifies me. I also think it would be good as a crossover thrash song. We're back to using KillSector by the way. It's very fun. BOJ What a mystery is Boj! Some people believe that the teetering pug-monster is the literal lap dog of their religion’s king of the underworld/ personification of evil. A small but vocal group of esoteric revolutionaries claim that Boj is an aggregate thought-form, created by the resentment and rage of wage-slaves everywhere. As evidence they point out that “Boj” is “job” spelled backward.  Whatever Boj’s true nature, it always appears to take part in FunWar. It has been shot, crushed, pulse-beamed, teleported into the Rudyard Theta Lava Surge Barrier, suplexed by MechMeister Mike, and even nuked.  Boj has never won, but it always shows up to the next FunWar, crackling like the wig of a judge.  Player Character Vitals 480 HP / 20 EVA / 8 SPD / 0 HAND Reach / 0 / N...

 It's time you put your head on the pillow, It's the softest granite around It's time to brush both of your tusks Stop playing for time and lie down No, Sauron ain't telling you nothing, Mount Doom can take care of itself. I don't believe for one fucking minute That you thought you just heard an elf. All of the dark horde is snoring, And even Gollum, that creep Is napping somewhere with the hobbits Now please just fuck off to sleep. The Witch King is deep in his slumber Even Shelob has closed all her eyes You're the last one awake in all Mordor For fuck's sake go beddy-bye-bye.

Ravat, the Lover of Leaving Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It does not matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come. ― Jelaluddin Rumi Ravat is a demon who has fallen on hard times. Ravat is basically humanoid. Each of its long graceful limbs ends in a sharp point and it walks equally well on all of them on all surfaces. Its face is perfect, like a cut diamond. Its body is silver scales and lithe muscles. Ravat seems to have little regard for gravity or distance. One moment it is a blurred figure on the horizon, the next it is close enough to lick your earlobe. It can get to anywhere it can see in one step, provided it isn’t restrained, but is incapable of standing still. It will fidget, cartwheel lazily, and pirouette on the ceiling, but never be at rest. The Lover of Leaving is a demon of discontent. It as...

1) Remember that you are not alone. There are legions of people out there who suffer as you do. Strike up a conversation with one. 2) Say to yourself “I belong in the space I occupy. I push myself to new accomplisments”. 3) Get a parrot. It echoes your words without the burden of an intellect. 4) Take pleasure in your indistinct reflection in storefront windows as you pass by. Like a real person, you are in motion. You are accomplishing things. You do not obsess. 5) Avoid mirrors. They are likely to make you ruminate upon certain parts of your face. Remember: an imagined flaw is as painful as a real one. 6) Drink coffee. Fetishize it. Say things like “I need my coffee” or “I don’t know what I would do without coffee”. 7) Avoid prolonged contact with dogs (and certain breeds of pig). They pick up on so much. 8) Remember to cycle between over-preparedness and procrastination. You need both to maintain your position. ...

(Sorry I've neglected the blog! I've been overwhelmed). Everything shakes, and all things are shaken loose. In the body. In the world.   A Wolf whose maw reaches from earth to heaven swallows the sun.   A Worm so vast that it fills up the ocean, drags itself up on land, spewing venom and fire, setting the world ablaze. The World Ash shakes from the tremors, and bursts into flame. Its fiery branches tear down the stars. Heimdall sounds his horn, and it drowns out the heavens’ thunder. The dead warriors stumble out onto the Plain of Iða, but giant birds, fire-drakes and flying lizards fill the sky, and descend upon them, crushing them under their weight. Below in Midgard, humanity swarms out of its broken cities, like ants from a destroyed nest. The jotun trample them, and cross the rainbow bridge, breaking it as they march. The Wolf strides into Asgard, and the Worm rises up, sinks its teeth into Hlidskialf, and pulls itself up. The mighty go...

Into my heart an air that kills  From yon far country blows:  What are those blue remembered hills,  What spires, what farms are those?  That is the land of lost content,  I see it shining plain,  The happy highways where I went  And cannot come again. A.E. Housman

The Darkling Thrush BY  THOMAS HARDY I leant upon a coppice gate       When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter's dregs made desolate       The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky       Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh       Had sought their household fires. The land's sharp features seemed to be       The Century's corpse outleant, His crypt the cloudy canopy,       The wind his death-lament. The ancient pulse of germ and birth       Was shrunken hard and dry, And every spirit upon earth       Seemed fervourless as I. At once a voice arose among       The bleak twigs overhead In a full-hearted evensong  ...