His breath came in ragged pants as his shoes splashed through the puddles in the streetlamp lit alley. Just keep running, he thought. Just keep running. If he catches you you're dead. The vague shadow in the corner of his eye was still there- taunting him, playing with him like an orca with a seal, or a young psychopath w/ a poor, unfortunate animal- barely distinguishable from the other shadows of the night.
Another sound of metal on brick dopplered in his ear. Was that a knife? Is he throwing knives at me now? I have to find someplace to hide. Need time to think.
He started rounding corners every chance he got; using fire escapes, jumping fences, ducking in unlocked doors. He didn't know where he was. He didn't care, just so long as the one hunting him wasn't on his trail anymore. No place seemed to be good enough to hide from HIM, so he just kept running. He didn't know how long he ran, but he knew dawn was approaching when he finally collapsed in a heap against a chain link fence at the edge of a vacant lot beside the trainyards.

In working on the story begun w/ my previous entry's brainstorming I started thinking about theme, mood, and setting. Following through w/ that I thought that I'd try some scene painting as it were w/out fleshing out any characters, so that's what this exercise is about.
_____________________________________________________________________
The great, black locomotive rocketed forward on it's inexorable trajectory along the tracks. The explosive force that had removed an expansive section of the support trestle had previously steered the train around the adamantine edifice of the towering donjon. Without the guidance of the rails the train's momentum dictated it's direction... straight into the wall of the keep.
Across the city citizens struggled to keep their feet while those in the nearby blocks closest to the catastrophe suffered from temporary hearing loss. A jet black smoke rose from the wreckage obscuring the street below and the paths along the crenelations above.

----------------------------------------

She stepped through the steaming manhole beneath the subway tunnel, the meager light cast by her dim lamp creating many channels of shadow. There was enough light to reveal the holes of grating circling down into the darkness supported by curved, studded girders. Taking a broken pencil out of her pocket she deliberately dropped it into the darkness below. It clanged against the supportwork for some time.
(Note: I'm concerned that this image might be cliche, however it also seems like an obvious metaphor for my theme. Thoughts?)
------------------------------------------

The sandhog came to the end of the street and stood before the wall. The stones used to built it were too massive for any one man to have moved by himself, nay a small team would need mechanical assistance. He looked up to see the top of the barrier only to see clouds brushing the stonework before viewing the pinnacle of the wall. How was he supposed to get up there?

Brainstorming

Inspired by the Wily Writers group I'm just setting out ehre to list elements of favorite genres it my be neat to incorporate into a story.

Steampunk/Screampunk
_____________________
clockwork machines
trains
Tesla
secret societies
Cthulhu by gaslight
Morlocks
journey to the moon
industrial aesthetic
world travel
ether goggles
pseudo-scientific experiments
dirigibles
steam powered "jet"packs


Swashbuckling
___________
pirates
treasure
courtroom intrigue
corrupt governments
sword-fights
witty banter/repartee
"the fine art of fighting w/ furniture"

Arthurian Romance
________________
secret affairs
jousting
wizards, knights, & dragons
questing beast
quest for magic item
castle in the sky
ley lines

Gothic Romance
____________
Female protagonist
imposing castle
Faustian deal
tragic flaws
Catholic iconography
vampires
werewolves


Sword and Sorcery
______________
thieves (actually make the thief a villain idea)
wizards/sorcerors
barbarians
intelligent magic items
exotic locales
apemen
giant snakes
dragons
dungeons
scantilly clad damsels/chain mail bikinis-clad warrior women
powerful magics
sieges
many sorts of monsters

New Weird
_________
fairy tale elements in contemporary setting
angels
coming of age stories
Otherworld element/through the looking glass

She approached in a wide circle so that her father could see her coming. It was not a good idea to disturb him while he was practicing throwing axes. Sneak up on him at the wrong moment and he tended to react instinctively. Tia didn't fancy the idea of an axe sticking out of the middle of her forehead. He had berated her for a whole hour before he sent her to bed without supper the one time she had interrupted him while he was practicing... and almost lost an ear to boot.
He had the eyepatch flipped up. The scars were horrible over that eye, but somehow he could still see out of it. Her father had told her that he wore it so as not to offend or disgust anyone he met. He could be disconcerting enough on his own with his gruff manner now that he was settled down and living amongst "polite society". Tia was used to the scars however and just considered them part of what made him her father. They had always been there to her.
"What is it, Tia?" he asked.
"Supper's ready, father."
"I'll be there..." THUNK! "in a minute."
She didn't turn to leave. She was watching as he alternated between throwing the axes, and using them to chop wood.
"I thought that was bad for throwing axes; that it ruined their balance...?" she queried.
"That's the point. These are my old throwing axes. Their balance is off anyway. You don't always have a choice what you have available to throw in a scrap, hon. Sometimes you have to make due with something that's not in the shape you'd like it to be in," he responded.
"So you're practicing to be able to use bad axes." It wasn't a question. It was a declaration to show that she understood what he was trying to tell her. He grunted a nod in response.
She returned by the path to the cabin from which she came; a benefit of the awarded nobility her father had earned as a Knight of the Realm. It was no small cabin, and the view over the valley was gorgeous. Tia still occasionally brought out her easel to paint images of it from different angles.
As she approached the cabin Zephyr and Brutus came gliding and trundling up respectively in her and his own time. Zephyr licked Tia's face w/ her long tongue. The story of how her father had come by these animal companions (they were still too wild to even consider calling them pets) was a tale unto itself. Zephyr was a she-wolf ostracized from her pack as a pup. She somehow had managed to form her own pack with Brutus, a middle-aged black bear with no mate. Father had rescued them both from the duel dangers of a hunter and a mountain lion. They visited him off and on regularly as hunting and the seasons permitted thereafter.
Brutus stood on his hind legs, waved his forepaws, and whined in that deep, lonesome growl of his that indicated he was begging for food.
"Just a moment, Brutus. I'll get you something," she smiled as she went into the cabin. Zephy wagged her tail and followed her in. Brutus was too big to enter, but that never stopped him from sticking his head in through the window- usually when it was still closed! Father and the local window-maker were good friends now...

Clinbing out of the timbers of the smoking ruins that had been his home the boy surveyed the damage. The events of the past twenty-four hours had left him exhausted. I knew he should feel the pain of his loss, the rage against the raping pillagers that invaded his home and left his town a smouldering wasteland, the hunger and thirst of starvation lying trapped where he was lest he be found and sent to join his community in the afterlife, but all he felt was the need for sleep, and a safe place to do it. The question was- where? There wasn't any place left in town. The nearest town would be next on the invaders' list to attack.
He ran. Into the woods. Uphill. To the wild highlands, where the mountain goats, and giant eagles ruled. He didn't care where he went, his only thought was away from the invaders to some safe cave where they would never find him. HIs footing was unsure in his flight and he slipped several times. Then he came to a place where he had no choice but to climb and in his adrenaline-fueled flight he leapt to it with more vigor than his tired frame told him he could, or should do. He climbed until his muscles ached. He could not believe that he could feel more exhausted than he already had when he left his late village, but he became so tired that his grip just could't last.
He fell. Exhaustion was replaced by pain. Pain dark and sweet. Sweet because it told him he was still alive, could still feel, but he might not be for much longer. He lay there still for quite some time, willing the pain away. The last thing he heard before darkness came was the shriek of vultures.
Somewhere in the fever dream he thought he saw a furclad silhouette, but he was too tired to know fear and accepted whatever fate it might give him. In his dream it took on the visage of the berserk chieftain that led the invaders that attacked his village. It frothed at the mouth and hungered for his blood. HIs blood. The blood of his father. Blood smeared over his father's face bashed in by an invader's axe. The hidey-hole where he kneeled didn't protect him from the warm spray of red. The warmth was chilling.
The warmth of bare skin bordered by fur reached somewhere into his fever dream and reminded him of being cradled to his mother's bosom as a babe. He didn't know he could still remember that. Shouldn't he be too old to remember that? He'd known thirteen winters. The warmth of skin was replaced after a rise-and-fall of a slowing climber's pace by the heat of a fire, smells of meat and herbs. He drifted back to sleep feeling strong, tender hands administer to his wounds.

These are simply another morning pages, so don't expect much content beyond the usual mad ramblings, and stream of consciousness writing that you have come to expect from me. I got to go for a walk this morning and found how while I knew that Olde West became some other road, I did not realize that I already knew the other end of that road- that other end being one that has looped around over to Shrader near Longford. I keep searching for a mythical passage to Broad other than going to Hungary Springs to get there. I see a road off of Broad that would logically seem to connect, but as of yet I have not tried to get here from there. I believe someone has told me that there is no connection, but it seems foolish for there not to be one. I guess like so many other things in this world doing the logical thing just doesn't make sense. Now I'm not entirely known for doing things the logical way, but even I have my limits. In my work environment for example, there's just far too many things that just don't make sense. Rules are supposed to solve problems, not make more. As my manager Tanya put it "We just have to get creative." Someone else put it, "Don't work harder, work smarter." Either way I don't seem up to the task and it's utterly frustrating. This might explain my desires to open up a game shop, but I still have to get through the moving process before I can even begin that... not that that's going to stop me, but it will slow me down. I know that I am going to have to find a backer, and that could prove difficult. I still have yet to go by the Department of the Economy for Chesterfield Co., but I have to call lenders first and get the ball rolling on finding a new place to live. It had been Erin's and my intention to use the money Pop-Pop gave us as a wedding present to move into a new place, but I've had to steadily wheedle that down just to pay off bills. Erin had a job interview this past week, but they only wanted her for evenings and weekends, which is exactly the opposite of daycare center hours. I.e. that just wouldn't work.
Brandon's coming today. I'm looking forward to it because I've missed him the past two visits he's made because I had to go to work. I saw him briefly at the door and then I was gone. I could use some catching up on what's been going on, esp. since I don't have access to my e-mail right now. I'm aching for a game of pirates too. Of course sitting in front of the TV and watching the NFL might be what he has in mind. I haven't been able to keep track of that as well since our subscription to the Richmond Times Dispatch ran out. It's a rather Republican rag, but at least I could keep tabs on the NFL, the comics, and I enjoyed the Channels section for looking up what I wanted to watch next. Erin prefers the Guide on the remote, but I think the section is faster. I can scan down a page faster than I can hit the down button and read just about five or six stations at a time.
I miss being able to game. I'm planning on running D&D again Saturday. It'll be the first time in a while that I've been able to run.

Joshua Banks: age 13...

A lonely kid walks home from the bus-stop after school. He's being followed by a pack of five boys who for the most part have a puffed up sense of their own self-worth. It starts with catcalls, jibes, and Lunch Money's style of play. Joshua tries to ignore it and them, hoping they'll become bored and go away. It's naive wishful thinking of course. And then one of them makes the mistake of touching him. It's not much, but it's enough to sift through and find the right painful moment in the boy's emotional memory. Joshua grabs onto it, holds on for dear life, breaking into a sweat.
"Look guys! He's so scared he's sweating! Do we make ya nervous, Banks? Hahahahaha!"
"Don't do it," Joshua simply says.
"Do what? This?" The punch is thrown even as he utters the last word. Joshua bleeds and reels, but manages to stay on his feet if just barely. The surprize comes to the other boys when the pugilist grabs his own head and explodes in tears of heart-wrenched pain.
"No. No. No," is all Joshua can mutter. He stands almost in a fetal position. The pugilist is almost a mirror of him. Does he understand how much it hurt himself to do what he did to him. It's more than just an Excedrin headache. The would-be bully is in shock. Three of the boys run in fear. The last was a kid Joshua thought was someone he could be friends with, until he joined the other bullys in school. He's the smallest of them and maybe he thought it was better to be at the devil's side than in his path. Now he just stares in horror as he realizes they weren't the devil he needed to fear.

It's HOT! thought agent Joshua Banks. I'm not used to this tropical desert climate. Let this case be over so I can go back to investigating haunted houses in wonderfully temperate America. This wandering around the desert outside Timbuktu is for the vultures. First there was the magic mad antique Nazi who wired his head into a tank, then there was the puzzle of just how to get into this bloomin' City of Brass, and now a fairy?!?! The juxtoposition of cultural myths along on this case is enough to drive one batty. I've always attracted stange phenomenon around me, but when they all come together like this is just gives me another one of my wretched headaches. I don't trust Aurelie. Being a fairy is cause enough. I've read the B.P.R.D case files on them, and how rare and capricious they are. Something about feeding on magic so I'll have to be careful about trying too many rituals around her. There's something else about how dodgy she's been that just won't let me trust her. Still, if she were four feet taller she might make an enjoyable roll in the hay. What am I thinking. Sun and lack of female companionship out here must be gettin' to me. This is distracting. I need to figure out how to get this damn djinni back in it's so-called bottle...

This is an excerpt of thought from my character in the GURPS Hellboy campaign that Laurel Oien is running for Erin and I. The story actually started previously with other players involved, but fizzled. When I asked her to run a game so Erin and I could play side-by-side instead of me running over her Laurie recontinued this story. Aurelie is Erin's character.

This is the eulogy I gave for my father on July 30,'05. He died the preceding Tuesday, July 26. The bibliography for the Mark Twain reference can be found in Huckleberry Finn. The song is traditional.

"When I was a boy there was a song I'm sure that most of you know:"John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt: his name is my name too...".Obviously, it wasn't much of a stretch to change the lyrics in my head to "John Jacob Robert Sterling Schmid..." As far as I knew John Jacob could have been a distant ancestor. However, Robert Sterling Schmid, well, his name is my name, too.
As I've listened to people talk about my father since this fateful Tuesday morning two topics always seem to crop up: how much people depended upon him and the smile he always seemed to have to give.
When I was younger the idea of having people depend on me seemed like such a burden, a sort of shackle imprisoning from the freedom of the outside world. Now that I'm older I know that having people depend on you can give you the feeling the you've done something good for the world, that you have something to contribulte, something to offer, a way to change the world for the better.I've heard this as an argument for why true altrusim doesn't exist, because you do get something back. Perhaps that's why my father had so many people depend on him, because he got something out of it inside.
Then, of course was his smile; that which he had to offer seemingly everyone all the time, his co-workers, his friends, those with whom he attended church, the people he met on the other side of the cash register, his waitor or waitress, pretty much the whole world. Of course, beiund his son I had the privilege of seeing him when he was angry too- I was even the cause of it my fair share of the time. ;) But it was a privilege, because that means that I knew him just a little better than most people, and I am fortunate to have had such a man for a father.
I was fortunate enough to grow up in a traditional nuclear family with both parents and even a full set of grandparents to nurture me. Even a strong nuclear family such as ours experiences it's times of strain. When my adolescence began so did our growing pains and there were times Ifelt that having a family could be a pain in the posterior. I'm wiser now of course, but it's only really been in the past year or so as Anne has found a husband, and I have found that woman I will marry and start a family of my own with that I've really felt that I was still a part of the family that I frew up with again. I know that Dad felt joy seeing us find the ones for which Anne and I could add to his family.
Have you ever heard the story of the Emperor of America? He was someone Mark Twain claimed to have met once. Now the Emperor of America obviously held no official office. He simply claimed that that was who he was. He might as well have claimed to be Napolean, right? But beyond that he was a harmless fellow, even helpful as he went about fulfilling his so-called duties as Emperor. And do you knw that when he died people came from all across the United States to attend his funeral. Look around you today. Not exactly a small funderal service is it?" [Note: while I wrote this before the service the church was indeed packed beyond capacity. They set up extra chairs because the pews were full!] "Now it's been said that I can get along with most anyone, my best friend says I even have his sense of humour, but I still haven't mastered his smile, I could only hope to have even half as large a funderal as my father.
My father: Robert Sterling Schmid.
Whenever we go out the people always shout..."

Mood: mildly frustrated
Music: Danny Boy

Morning pages entry: Just start typing Bert. Something will come out. This is just an exercise, kind of like the walk you just took and picking up the viola for the first time in months. Something to keep you in practice. Can you manage that. of course I can. Ooh! Multiple personality demonstration. What fun! And now the baby has come to play. What shall we do today, Little One? Are you feeling better? No more throw-up? I know dry heaves are such playtime- NOT! Hey! You've finally eaten some of your toast. When I came in all you'd done was lick the butter off, and I gave it to you before I went on my walk. Mom's in the shower so it's all me at the moment. As usual she's discovering things on the floor to play with. Why she can't play with her own toys I don't understand. She seems to get bored so easily. Mood swing city. Well, now she's discovered my change purse again. She's managed to open it. I'll stop her when she starts to get inside, but as long as she's just fiddling with the thong it should be all right. Thong- as in leather cord used to close the pouch. Get your mind out of the gutter blockhead! Oh! Excuse me, gentle reader. Guess I let my frustration for not being able to find any of my music supplies get to me. I don't know that I've brought that stuff over from my folks yet though. Something to pick up next trip. Of course, Caitlyn won't do something unless she thinks it's her idea. I tried to show her something to make both our lives more agreeable and she refused to play along. I really do need a new cord for this pouch. It's seen better days, but that's when you know it's well used, well loved. It used to get lots of looks, now it's just mundane. Everyone's seen me with it for years now. Mom and Dad have their issues with it of course, but I found a woman that doesn't mind in the slightest. So many reasons to marry her- *sigh*Okay, enough of the sappy stuff. How much have I written? Erin's getting out of the shower. This should be enough. Just more peek at the life of Bert. Tata!

Mood: missing something
Music: Ashokan Farewell (I was just practicing it)

So this entry is just another morning pages, but practicing my fiddle music as I was just now has gotten me missing the lessons I was taking. I sent Alex (my instructor) an e-mail telling her that I'd like to resume my lessons soon. It might be next year before I could do so, but I don't want to let the lessons die. I was enjoying them so much. There're times when I think I tightened my belt on my finances a little too much, and maybe this entry is getting too personal, but I also miss my flying lessons and the ballroom dancing. I might actually get back to the ballroom dancing first. We'll see how things go. I've been resorting to the cheaper entertainment of role-playing games again and I certainly enjoy that too. It's just harder to make a living at it. I suppose I could try my hand at writing modules, but I think I need to get more involved to do that. That IS something I'm trying to do at least: what with attempting to get involved in the RPGA and all. Life seems so very full, yet there's so much I want to do. Angela tells me I'm a regular jack-of-all-trades (joat), but I still have so much that I want to do, so much that I want to try my hand at: hang-gliding, riding a train, visiting other places, writing a novel, getting back to my artwork, becoming a father (okay, I'll be a stepdad soon enough), learning how to ride a horse (Anne, if you ever read this we still have a deal), and I'm sure there's other things I want to try as well that just aren't coming to mind at the moment.
Sometimes these entries come off to me a bit morose, but I have so much that's making me happy right now. I'm gonna get married and that's got me VERY excited. She's so wonderful, and she's such a match. We have moments where we're in each other's heads. How many women out there wish their men could do that. I found the one I can do that with, at least some of the time. :)

What Are You Most Likely to Utter During Sex by UMAJohnnie
Name
Sexuality
Age
Most Likely to Say	"Hey... where ya going?"
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Mood: nervous energy
Movie: Se7en

Lieing awake in my bed, my insomnia was definitely giving me one of it's worse nights. The rain aggravated me nervously with it's insistant rapping upon the roof of the apartment. I contemplated getting up and fetching another Benedryl. Not that it was helping me get to sleep anymore. My body had already started to build up a tolerance. I turned in my sheets, only half covering my torso. I missed my wife. I hoped that her business trip would end early and then I could welcome her home with the best meal I could manage and candles in the bedroom. I thought about my bills. I thought about the repairs I needed to have made to my car. Mom's birthday. And then the cat hissed and ran heavily across me to hide behind the fold-out sofa bed. At first I couldn't understand. Then, the levin lit up the window and the silhouette that stood there was entirely alient to the room. It wasn't apart of our world. Not our furniture. Not our small family. Not anyone that was supposed to be there. A bat hidden underneath the bed seemed just out of reach, and the gun hidden behind a vent grate was out of the question. We just froze and looked at each other. Then suddenly he moved. I say he because the frame was heavy, but I couldn't be sure. The movement looked both deft and cumbersome all at the same time, a contradiction in movement. I reached for the bat and when I came up with it he was gone.

To be continued... maybe.

Mood: nervous energy
Music: Back in Black by AC/DC

It occurs to me as I read my gf's favorite book that I've wanted to write some science fiction of my own. After all didn't I inspire my senior year of h.s. English teacher to want to be my agent when I became a writer? Wasn't that part of the point of starting this blog: to spin ideas, rough drafts, fantastic ideas into something I could use as the basis for a genuine story. My trouble comes in finding something that strikes me as being truly original. I doubt myself in my ability to create something truly new and groundbreaking that people would actually stand up and take notice. I mean Dan Brown beat me to the punch w/ the Da Vinci Code. Isn't that what I would have done had I written Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? I keep telling myself that I'm gonna write a King Arthur epic poem, but all the research I want to do to make it the most loyal to both history and the fantastic is a lifelong project. I want to write the ultimate werewolf story, but that never seems to happen. It's easier to come up w/ premises than the actual story sometimes. Transformers from the beginning: nevermind, the comics are doing it now. An original Star Wars story for a television series? Cartoon Network got the shorts. The D&D movie premise? Well, I could flesh that out, but what are the chances someone from the movie production would actually see it? There's got to be something out there. It's just a matter of finding it, and putting it down. It will come. If you dream it...

Mood: calm
Music: The Irish Washer Woman (I was just practicing it)

Where to begin. I just mean this to be a morning pages so I'm just going to ramble on and on again like I used to do. Hope this doesn't bother anyone but I just mean to keep on typing until time runs out or I reach a satisfactory length of typing. That's the way it is so :PPPPP. Okay, that's not exatly words its an extended emoticon, but so what. What are you going to do about it. Like you even care. Why am I even giving an attitude to something that few if any ppl are going to read. Shame on me for using ppl as an abbreviation for people when I need to type stuff out full length if I'm going to have a satisfactory length to this writing in the first place. The idea is to just get me writing in the first place. blah blah blah yackety schmackety have a nice tall cool glass of OJ. I miss that show. Taxmania. A welcome to a land that's way under down under. The sky's always blue come rain or shine. Come to Tazmania. Come to Tazmania. So what else are people watching these days. I've been watching Charmed, Angel, Monster Garage, Monster House, and Trading Spaces, but most of those are in reruns right now. I miss having the SciFi channel, but sinced it switched places w/ the Hallmark channel its only available w/ Comcast's digital package and we don't feel like shelling out the extra bucks for digital. If it wasn't for that we'd mostly be happy w/ what we've got. Okay, still going, nothing outlasts the Energizer. Gee! I'm just full of TV references this morning. Think I watch too much? Nah. Of course, not. I've still got Isaac's Tuna.... or do I? I liked the paranoia demon on Angel last night. It was a rerun, but a rerun that I hadn't seen. The origin of the hotel where Angel investigations was basing its operations. Was a cool flash from Angel's past. *YAWN!* Okay, sorry to interupt w/ biological functions but as they go that's not so rude unless someone else was doing the typing. Okay, don't mind me if you're reading this. Like I said I'm just prattling on as if I had something to say, which for some reason this morning I don't but that's hardly unusual is it? I mean, I'm usually fairly quiet at the pub. Not too much reason to go babbling. Matt and Andrew usually have the most interesting things to say. At least politically, philosophically or whatnot, which isn't to disrespect what anyone else has to put forth, just okay. I've put my foot in my mouth and that's as far as it needs to go. Hey! Isn't that why I stopped doing this thing in the first place. I just need to shut up, but apparently I can't so blah. Um, maybe I should talk about the Guild reunion picnic that I've been "organizing". That's a compliment to myself as I've mostly been letting volunteers do all the hard parts. I need to do something to show my appreciation to them for that. Certainly they deserve it. Okay, not there yet, but I've certainly made some progress. I dunno, would Marion be proud of it. That reminds me, I need to call Mary. She called me back yesterday about the game. She missed the last one, but I could still use her for the story coming up. I wonder if she'd be willing to play the part I needed Taryn to play. She can make up her own background of course, but I'll plead w/ her if she's still willing to join my game. We'll see how that goes. She and Jeff still haven't joined the Yahoo group for the game. I need to get on both of their cases. I hope Jeff comes back for the next game session. Its going to be Angela's game this weekend anyway so I need to do some more writing for that later on today. We'll see how that goes. I need to clean out my car, get the CDs and shoes put away. Just so much to do. I want to go back to the gym and to Dance Masters today. I need to find out my schedule at work for next week so I can schedule a flying lesson. I still have to wait to renew my medical before I can solo, and then its just the next calm day that I can go up before I finally solo. Oh! Its been a LONG time coming and I'm so excited about it. I just don't know what's next in the learning process. Just soloing has become a goal in and of itself that I don't know where I will be going from here except on the next step towards getting my license. After that if not before I also need to figure out how to get my seaplane license. That might require moving unfortunately. That could be a problem in and of itself. I'm still waiting for the IRS to come through. Meanwhile taxes are coming up and they'll take a chunk right back out of me. Okay, that's enough.

Mood: slightly anctious
Music: the menu music to Neil Gaiman's NEVERWHERE DVD (if you can call that droning music)

As I have not written anything in some time it seemed due that I should do so. The following is simply some ideas that have been tossed around by Heath, myself and a few others. It had been brought up that a sequel to the Dungeons & Dragons movie is in the works. Here's some ideas as to what we might do if we were to write it:

Heath had suggested keeping Jeremy Irons and the actor who played the evil fighter from the first movie around for the second recognizing that while their acting was horrible in the first film he knows that they CAN act if given the chance to do so. He also suggested a cameo appearance by Tim the Enchanter from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
For the opening credits I'd have the camera extremely close-up on dice as they roll across a table revealing the credits in their wake as if the dice stamped them onto the table. As the pan continues it would reveal such other sundry items on the table as pencils, game books, notebooks, character record sheets, hex maps, miniatures, DM's screen, ninja notes, pizza, Mountain Dew, chips, pretzels, and other snacks, and stacks of magazines of Dungeon, Dragon and Heavy Metal. A new camera pan would scroll across a bookshelf full of fantasy and scifi novels, and another would show some movie like Monty Python, Star Wars, Ghostbusters or some other appropriate movie on the nearby tv.
Other cameo apearances in the movie should include Gary Gygax and Dave Arnsison, Steve Jackson, Mark Rein-Hagen, and Mike Pondsmith.
The movie should consist of two parallel stories: one following a group of role-players and how they deal w/ the issues they face in everyday life; and the other being the fantasy story imagined by the players. The movie should be very tongue-in-cheek with lines dished out like Bill Murray in Ghostbusters. Mutlitple movie references should include MOnty Python, Star Wars, the Princess Bride, Conan, Aliens, the Terminator, etc. It should not take itself seriously, and yet it should do for role-players what Clerks and the Jersey oeuvre did for comic book afficianados.
Heath has suggested that the fantasy story have a simple plot like rescue the princess or something like that. I think it at least needs a proper dungeon crawl. The penultimate villain should be a dragon of course, but that shouln't be revealed until the third movie according to Heath. Possibly that dragon would be Tiamat.
I suggested that in the fantasy element live-action be meshed with the occasional random old-fashioned cell animation thrown in: perhaps of the original Dungeons & Dragons cartoon characters + images from the original D&D books, and perhaps one roto-scoping drive-by image perhaps from the original Heavy Metal movie or Wizards.
A trip to a gaming convention should yield an encounter w/ Elmore.
Yoda and Darth Vader should cameo in the fantasy element as if they were actors w/ some one-liner a la "Amateurs," or "Oh, shit! There goes the planet."
The soundtrack should include Howard Shore spoofing his own LotR score, loads of Queen, some KISS, Black Sabbath or Ozzy, various other metal and goth (bloodletting by Concrete Blonde comes to mind), Monty Python of course, Weezer's In the garage, some filk, and perhaps the Dungeons & Dragons bit by the Drunk Alewives most often heard on Dr. Demento.
Confrontations with the mother figure should occur in the players half of the story a la Detroit Rock City with satan-worshipping controversies covered.

I may add more to this later. Feel free to offer me suggestions.

Mood: cranky
Music: Type O Negative Life is Killing Me CD party

I hadn't posted anything in a few days and missed a few times when I'd intended too. Anyway, not really interested in saying anything, just that I'm still heree and have not dropped this thing, even though some people seem to think that I'd intended to drop something else entirely. hmph.

Mood: eery
Music: KISS's Detroit Rock City sndtrk

It was just comething I wanted to test out w/ the new DVD player, but this movie I related to far too well. Maybe its because I was five in 1978 and can remember what was happening back then. I was never really a KISS fan until I saw this, and they were one of the best rock concerts that I have ever seen, but my interest in them was rather faddy I must confess. Still, this movie is hilarious once in a while. :)

Mood: mysteriously anxious
Music: The Crystal Method

Wow! New blog, new possibilities? Can't tell so far, but my mind's not really awake yet. I was up til four A.M. this morning reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I finished the denouement this morning after I woke up at about 9:30. There was some things I wanted to see that didn't happen, but otherwise it was a good book. I don't want to spoil anything for those who haven't read it yet, so i won't dwell on it. I've got erands I have to run today like the bank, take care of insurance, maybe even cell phone and car windshield being fixed. Until next time.

Mood: uncertain
Music: The Chieftains

Today marked a return to a more routine schedule at work. I opened serving chicken and made my usual fetching of the Richmond Restaurant order. I got just about all of the cole slaw packaged and read the latest Harry potter on my breaks. Still, the convenience checks taht are going to get me back up in the air did not arrive yet. I'm anctious. I SO want to fly again. Tonight the History Channel is doing a show on the lives of superheroes. I'm looking forward to that. Why taht's history, I don't know, but it should be fun to watch ne'ertheless. I'm still debating whether to go back to Taryn's tonight to fetch my viola or no. Its rather difficult to practice it without it. Like I practice in the first place. :P ;)