Nyarlathotep

So how goes the Spice flow? Still have issues with those damnable sand worms? Hope the Freman arent giving you too much trouble.

Cloverfield I understand some people's issues with it(especially some of my friends who live in the city) but I felt the movie did what it set out to achieve: a fast, dark, sharp, slightly witty humanized disaster/horror film with a low budget(blair witch) feel. It grabs you, knocks you around, then leaves you to bleed out. This is in no way a happy or uplifting. Oh yeah and most recent movie cliches were pleasantly absent.

Bah. Tolkien's a hack. Dry, monotonous storytelling and uninteresting prose. I'll be much more excited for a certain birthday on October 8th.

FINALLY FINISHED AFTER MANY MONTHS! NOW WITH NEW TITLE!! PLEASE ENJOY!!! Insomniac’s wet dream or Disenfranchisement I tore page after page from the book. Sentences, words, letters formed gibberish on the floor. I pulled out my lighter - a battered Zippo - and set fire to the remaining binding. I tossed the desiccated husk of a novel across the room. It burned there, indignantly. I stared at it, watching it dissolve into ash, leaving a pitch black streak on the bad 70's paneling. It was 5:53 in the morning and I had had it up to here with William Gibson-style prose. Cyberpunk was becoming more and more mainstreamed each year. Fuck it, I told myself, just start reading Space Operas again. I walked bleary-eyed into the kitchen, downed a yogurt and went outside. The sun was getting there, but the morning fog still hung like a moist blanket. I lit up a Lucky Strike and enjoyed the feeling of damp concrete on my bare feet. You never realize just how noisy it is at this time of day. Most people are sleeping or getting ready for work, so they never really stop to listen. It's like every bird within a mile radius feels it's necessary to tell the whole god-damned world that it's up. And I relish it. I walked down my road for a bit, staring at each of the bland suburban dwellings I passed. I had been living with my lover for almost a year now, here in this WASPy hell hole, and I could still not get used to the monotony of these homes. They all looked the fucking same. Boring. Being a New Yorker, I’m a little jaded. He couldnt ask me to live here for much longer. We had been living in Bloomington, Indiana for over a year when Alex's parents kicked the bucket. I had just gotten used to the small-town-with-huge-radical-movement/music-scene when his parents up and died. We had moved out there on a whim, giving us “a new lease on life”. So there we were, living where no one knew us, fucking like rabbits and just being “frisky and free” as Alex so eloquently put it. Then we get that fateful call. Shit. I'll spare you the embarrassing details, let's just say daddy was having his snake charmed by mommy on the way home from a swap meet, or whatever the hell it is people that age do, and plowed into an on-coming semi. You really don’t wanna know how the coroner determined what caused them to crash. We flew back to Westchester, NY, lots of uncomfortable family encounters ensued, and we inherited their lovely little abode. I saw some asshole with a Hummer back out of his driveway, nearly hitting his mail box. I really hoped that he would back over one of his forty kids some day. That or Mother Nature herself would materialize and consume his flesh. I have this big hang up about polluting. You know, considering I live on this fucking planet after all. I continued down the road, stewing about yuppies and there chosen modes of transportation. A car pulled up along side me. It was Alex. He rolled down the passenger window and tossed me my sandals. He gave me a sheepish look. "You’re an ass. Get in the car. I wanna get coffee." I stamped out the roach I had been nursing and climbed in. He leaned over and we swapped saliva for a bit before making our way to the diner. "Two things. One: next time warn me when you plan on trying to light the house on fire and two: dont you ever fucking burn a book again." I still had trouble reading him sometimes, wasnt sure if he was amused or pissed. He finally looked at me, after giving me time to let that sink in...I assume. I smiled stupidly. He just grunted and pulled into a parking space. We had fought last night, whatever the topic was nothing more then a smoke screen for what was really causing tension. I couldnt tolerate living here any longer. It wasnt so much the white bred yuppie shmucks, nor the complete lack of culture in the area, but the house. His parents had not been happy when he came out. But they were even less happy when they met me. And now, living in their house, it felt like they were bearing down on us from beyond the grave. Their negative vibes were all over that raised ranch. We hadnt had sex in something like 2 months, we fought much more often and he wouldnt stop talking about them. Being there was bringing back all that shame and guilt those fucks had brought down on him and it was destroying us. Him emotionally, me mentally. We pulled into the parking lot and sat outside, sharing a stogie. I considered getting it over with then, but decided to wait until we sat down to piss him off. I opened the door to the small eatery and was immediately hit with the standard diner smells; grease, sweat and old linoleum. A disinterested looking teenage waitress seated us in a booth and we ordered coffee. I sat there, trying my best to procrastinate, looking at Alex, then frowning at the redneck truckers at the counter, then staring out the window. Finally I just blurted it out. “I can’t live here anymore”. At first he looked confused, but it didn’t take long at all for him to realize exactly what I meant. Maybe he had been trying not to think about last night, or every other night for the last few weeks. I don’t know, wont ever. “Listen, we’re not having this discussion now”. “Oh your right, let’s just keep putting it off until we’ve broken up, I guess would be easier.” It was a reflex, whenever I was in an uncomfortable situation I’d slip right into the hands of sarcasm. “Fuck…fine, so what? What do you want to do? You can move out at any time, you know? I don’t get what your goddamn problem is. That fucking house has been in my family for 3 generations. I cant just give up the only thing my parents willed to me, can I?” Oh now he was playing that card…the bastard. “The only reason those pieces of shit dumped that thing on you is because no one else in your deadbeat family could pay the inheritance tax! Besides, when did you start caring about all that family generational bullshit? Those fucks practically disowned your ass when you came charging out of the closet. The only thing that kept you human in their eyes was that you were still going to go to school for law.” People were starting to stare. We were getting loud….ok, really loud. It wasn’t within either of our capabilities to keep our voices down. Just as Alex was about to retort, our waitress came back with our coffee. We quieted down for a moment, just long enough to mumble thank you and take a few sips. As he stirred in more sugar, he looked me dead in the eye. He sighed. “Look, I know you hated them for what they did to me. Fine. Fair enough. But what does any of that have to do with the house? “It’s poisoning you. It’s like all their prejudice and shit is corrupting you. When was the last time we fucked, eh?” That was a low blow and I knew it, but I wanted to make sure I had his undivided attention. A hurt look appeared on his face and was quickly replaced with smugness. “Well maybe if you’d come the fuck down occasionally. Your all wound up; all you do is bitch and moan all day. You just tear around the house, yelling about this that and the other thing. When the fuck am I supposed to make love to you during all that whining?” I laughed, loudly. What a joke. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s why we’re not doing it. Give me a break. You’re just subconsciously ashamed. You still cant get over how much your parents disapproved of us and now your letting; I cant believe I’m fucking saying this; this house come between. It’s some kind of screwed up way of honoring your parents or some shit.” “Listen you stupid faggot…” he said through clenched teeth. Now he had done it. Even before the T sound had left his lips he was already formulating an apology. I could see it. But he knew it would be in vain. He had crossed an unforgivable line in my eyes. I am by no means a “PC” individual. I make crude sexual references in public places, am a huge fan of schdenfraud, curse like a sailor, and am generally just tactless. But like everyone, I have my hang ups; my buttons. And a big one is the word faggot. I have no interest in liberating the word or discussing the semantics behind it. I don’t care what its original uses were. I spent most of high school being called that shit, it always causing an immediate fight or flight response, but these days it just makes me pissed beyond recognition. He tried to look down, but my eyes caught his and dragged them up. My mouth hung ever so slightly agape as I struggled to think of something to say, but that time had passed. My heart was in my ears and my words were stuck in my throat. My instincts took over and I grabbed my still mostly full coffee mug. I uttered something similar to a half finished “fuck” and tossed the piping hot liquid into Alex’s face, then shatter the cheap ceramic mug on the table. He screamed and grabbed his face in pain. From here my memories become a photo album, quick glimpses. You know when you get really upset, into a fight or whatever gets the adrenaline pumping in a negative way, you often have trouble remembering exactly how the incident went down? Everything’s all hazy, right? For me, it’s even worse. The next thing I know I’m a few hundred feet down the road, walking away from the dinner and “our” house on the sidewalk along the towns main thoroughfare. I’m holding my sandals in my left hand and the handle to the coffee mug in my right. It’s about 7:30 now and the sun is well above the horizon. I looked down and my right hand which has a small cut in it. I tossed the handle into an open field to my right, then stopping for a moment, do the same to my sandals. I pull out my third-to-last cigarette and light it. Most of the moisture on the concrete sidewalk had evaporated, but a few patches still remained. As I walked, my mind still blank, trying to ignore what had just transpired, I began to step purposely on those damp patches. Hopping from spot to spot, avoiding the warm sun bleached spaces inbetween. The cool feeling calmed me slightly for some reason. I probably looked ridiculous doing it. I heard a truck slow down behind me. It pulled up along side me and an oversized hoodie wearing 17 year old stuck his head out the passenger side window and yelled “FAGGOT!” They peeled out and took off down the road. I had nothing left in me at that moment. I mumbled “fucking doucbags” and kept walking, taking deep drags.

Wy, I can understand your feelings about Videodrome. But I will try to justify the ending by saying that Cronenberg's intention was to show that James Wood's character had become completely unhinged and could no longer differentiate between reality and this video world. Paprika Though visually stunning, I felt that there was almost no substance to the story. I am aware that was the intended purpose, but if that was the case, I feel they director should have gone the full mile and just made a experimental visual film. Ocean's 12 Though the cast and level of acting was just as superb as the first, the screen play is was really hurt this sequel. It just didnt have the punch, totally surprising turns or "cool" factor(for lack of a better term) as the first. Star Trek: Insurrection By far the weakest of the TNG era Star Trek films. The fact that this was the follow up to the best of the TNG movies(First Contact) did not help matters. It suffers from the same issue as Nemesis: it was like a long episode. There just wasnt that feeling that there was a lot at stake. The dialog was stilted(even for a Trek film) and to be blunt, not enough really happend. National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets Look, I'll make this simple. Do you love historical conspiracies(no matter how unrealistic)? Is your wet dream to discover some lost treasure trove of ancient knowledge(like it is mine)? Did you love the first one(raises hand)? Then you will enjoy this movie. Otherwise, the shoddy headache inducing camera work and rushed story telling will immediately turn you off.

Though not a real big fantasy fan, I would still recommend A Game of Thrones by George R.R Martin and The Dark Glory War by Michael A. Stackpole I am a HUGE sci-fi fan though, and considering your tastes in fantasy, I would suggest the ultimate classic Dune by Frank Herbert and the excellent stand alone novel Fallen Dragon by Peter F. Hamilton. Both are excellent space operas spanning large gulfs of time and space. Oh and if your up for a little sci-fi(with heavy fantasy influence) fluf disguised as serious writing I'd suggest any of The Horus Heresy novels(all by different authors) set in the Warhammer 40K universe.

Finally getting around to re-reading and finishing Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick. It's a crime I've waited this long. Oh and I am now of the opinion that Dick's bleakly humorous, dystopian sci-fi is better then Vonnegut's.

Madness? Is this Sparta...?

~Relationships~ His brother in arms(and partially in blood), Mushin, is his closest and dearest friend. They have literally died for one another and would do so again in a heartbeat. As mentioned earlier, he despises all gods, save one, that of course being the Lucifer. The irony that they have become allies, even friends some say, has not been lost on either. Lucifer treats M like the returning Prodigal Son, while M begrudgingly sees him like a once tyrannical, now wise father figure. His relationship with Lucifer has lead him to meet the only entity that has ever come close to stealing his heart, Tich. She is Lucifer's nephew's son's wife's aunt's sister's father's grandmother, twice removed. He has charged M with keeping an eye on her, since she is quite the trouble maker. She is a shape-shifting Tyfling(demon) who can create golems from flesh. They are sometime lovers, when she is in her adult form, and arguing siblings when she is in her child form. He is a member of the Knights of Zo, holder of the Jackal Stone, and thus is allied with all it's members, though is really only friends with Beowulf, holder of The Ruptured Heart Stone. Other close allies/friends include: Blitzga (Martial Arts Master) Kiru Desh(Paladin, now fallen to Chaos) Hazo(Boatman of The River Styx) Master Wu(Martial Arts Master, descendant of Merlin, thus ages backwards) Bahamut(True Dragon King, formally in exile)

~Personality~ M, though seemingly a condescending asshole, is actually fairly good natured and gets along well with others. Unless of course, you happen to be a god. His hatred of gods stems from their aloofness to the affairs of mortals and semi-mortals, their iron grip on the laws of reality, and his position in the Knights of Zo, the most vocal, anti-deity group in existence. Whenever gods are mention, he becomes serious and angry, verbally lashing out at whoever brought them up.

~Physical Description~ M, though a demon, appears to be a slightly dark skinned human a bit over 6 feet tall. He has short, cropped jet black hair and one yellow eye. His right eye was sacrificed in honor of his formally fallen comrade Mushin. The skin on his left cheek, as well as some of his upper neck is a murkily translucent, allowing, upon closer inspection, a view of his jaw, muscles, etc. This is due to the Chaos corruption he received from sacrificing a Hound of Tindalos under his control and using it's power to land the finishing blow on Conflagration during that epic battle. His right arm is normal, until the elbow, where it suddenly becomes a gold, scaly dragon arm with 3 fingers. Each finger is tipped with a mythril claw. This was an accidental gift from Mushin's father when he allowed M to take a Dragon bone from his lair and make it a part of himself. He wears a dark grey, tight fitting t-shirt and baggy black silk pants. A matching, removable sleeve covers his dragon arm. Instead of a eye patch, he wears a piece of ragged blue cloth around his head over his eye, the cloth taken from Kiru Desh's cloak. The Mars Grieves and Gauntlets are invisible unless he is casting any type of fire-based spell.

~Items~ The Flame Wing (Legendary fire-enchanted spear, the blade is now embedded in M's right arm. Can be retracted into wrist) Gauntlets of Mars/Grieves of Mars (Legendary armor of The God of War. Gives wearer immense power)

~Magic Abilities~ Hellfire Techniques Dark Wind (Summons plague wind from hell, spreading disease and pestilence to enemy and surrounding area) Shadow Fang (Engulfs self in Shadow magic, then pummels enemy with rapid punches and kicks) Throne Breaker (Uses all remaining Hellfire magic and viscously attacks enemy with bladed weapon while Hellfire magic spells blasts him) Dragon Techniques Will of Bahamut (Blasts enemy with beam of raw dragon magic) Epic Techniques Grim Demise (Surrounds enemy in ball of Chaos Magic, all bone in the surrounding area not currently in a living organism is drawn into the sphere, then the bone begins to stab inward, all the while neural toxin is pumped into the sphere) Doom Grin (A insane smile spreads across face, allowing sanity to fade, raw Chaos magic begins flowing around enemy, then a pack of Hounds of Tindalos appear and tear the enemy into molecules) Mars' Inferno (Uses power of The God of War's armor set to caste an enormous fire spell)

~Abilities~ Bone Weaver/Tyrant Abilities Grave Rob Bone Craft Bone Graft Bone Growth Bone Rave (Arms explode in a cage of bone, enemy is encased in it and shards of bone begin perforating them) Bone Song (A demonic scream spell pulls marrow from the enemies bones, gaining some of it's attributes) Bone Manipulation (Telekinetically break enemies bones) Neural Toxin Vampiric Touch Demon Samurai Techniques Red Mist (Follow up to Bone Rave, breaks off bone cage from body, arms re-grow quickly, then as enemy is being pierced by bone, dashes past enemy with blade drawn, hopefully cutting them in two) True Knight (Can use body as a shield to take attacks for others) Spire/Tyrant Spire (Leaps into air, stabs sword into top of enemy's head, Tyrant version simply has demon energy flowing through blade when preformed) Tears of Akio (Dual Technique with Mushin, both dash at enemy, one knocks him into the air, the other hits him with a Hellfire spell, then both leap into the air and preform a multitude of aerial slashes to them)

"You know what? Have a Hadouken bitch!" This was uttered after a good friend of mine asked his raiding buddy in World of Warcraft why he hadnt made a witty comment over ventrillo directed at the boss they were currently fighting.