A Life Blog about My Life, Dawg

  • 192: folgeir, paladin of doren, explains how he got his facial scar

    it was the middle of darkwinter and the migration was underway. the air was so cold it frosted our warm breaths and they collapsed to the ground like little light puff balls. a man couldn’t spit for fear it would stick to their face. if you had to pee–wait until we reached shelter, or suffer the loss of your dick. this is darkwinter across the frozen sea, men and women trudging in thick hobnailed boots and layers upon layers of furs, trudging over ice and packed snow with lit torches or legal light nested on walking sticks or on body parts. pinpoints of light dotting the otherwise black landscape. it’s a very surreal experience if you haven’t been, as the tozha are unafraid of humans–unafraid of anything, really–and they just lope along so effortlessly along the ice, and you’ll see a few of them with their giant beaks slamming into the ocean ice, chipping at it until they get into the ocean. the tozha are such smart creatures, they’ll have one of the females break open a hole with its beak and then open the hole up until it’s wide enough for the male’s more slender beak. then they all huddle around the hole and keep the spot warm so the hole doesn’t refreeze, while the male takes a bit of food, or chum, or whatever they have–sometimes they strip meat from each other, in fact–and clutch it in their beaks which they dip into the water, waiting for fish to come and bite. when they do, SNAP, they grab the fish and throw it onto the ice, where it’s devoured quickly. the female who broke the ice gets the first fish, then all the others, and the male gets the last fish.

    padrage and i were tasked with finding these fishing holes and driving the tozha away from them so we could fish ourselves. see, cracking the ocean ice is not easy, even for the tozha, who can spend upwards of eight hours breaking through to the water, depending on the ice thickness. i feel like a bastard for doing it but a lot of times we just shout and wave our light at the tozha and they run off scared. i try to make sure they fill their bellies but it’s colder than cold on the frozen seas and spending a lot of time there is just deadly. now, you’ve seen tozha, yes? at least in your history tomes. giant birds, basically, so big that their wings can’t keep ’em aloft at all. they run on these enormous bird legs, thicker than the width of your body, and at the end of these legs is talons, talons as long as your arm and sharp as a freshly honed seax. the tsosodoi people, they train tozha so as to ride ’em into battle and such, and a domesticated war tozha is a terrifying thing to see in battle.

    fortunately for padrage and myself, most tozha are easily frightened, especially by bright lights. i had a torch because i don’t trust magic, but padrage had some legal light and we set about scaring off a group of tozha who had burrowed a nice broad hole into the ocean. we had a group of six men, the other four carrying the various parts of the fishing contraption they use to bring up the real big deep sea stuff. and one of them had fire to keep the hole from refreezing. big operation, been done for hundreds of years. biggest problem is slipping on the ice and falling into the hole. you do that and you’re dead, cause either you freeze, or you get eaten by whatever is still swimming around under all that ice.

    well, i don’t know what it was about tonight, but all those tozha ran off into the darkness, except for one. a mama bird, a big one, had to be ten, twelve feet tall. she had a wingspan unlike anything i’d ever seen on tozha before, and when pad raised his light up, her feathers were black and her beak was a dullish bronze and she reared up and spread her wings and they had to be twenty feet long, just full of these beautiful shimmering purple-black feathers. we were in awe, amazed, astounded. i had never seen a tozha like her and i don’t think i ever will again. she cawed at us, a loud, thunderous sound reverberating from her breastbone, and then she cocked her head to the side, sizing us up with one of her enormous black eyeballs.

    on the frozen sea the wind whips incessantly, bringing about a deathly cold to anyone save the hardiest people like myself and padrage. it’s loud, like a thousand banshees screaming at you and tossing you about from all angles. the snow falling like a blizzard all around you, the heavy fog, it was all disorienting, all of it, and we were both enraptured by this mama bird’s awesomeness … so we staggered a bit when she charged us. pad was shouting, and i couldn’t hear him until he turned around. he was shouting “run,” and i took a step back, instinctively felt my hobnails grip into the slippery ice, twisted my feetaway from the tozha. but i was still looking at her, and at pad, and i watched as her giant talons gripped into the ice, watched pad as he tried to push off from the ice but he slipped and she slammed her foot into his back. heard the air escape from pad’s lungs with such a whoosh that i swear to this day i could see his spirit get forced out of his body, a will-o-the-wisp finding itself forever trapped in the cold winds of darkwinter.

    naturally i was upset, and in my rage i made the mistake of attacking this beast, unsheathing my seax and praying to enfyenda to grant my boots the grip they desperately needed. i ran and leaped at the tozha, striking it hard against the beak, which only caused my whole body to shudder, my hammer to ricochet off. a glancing blow to a beast like that. the tozha, annoyed, flicked its beak at me as i fell, striking me hard against the breast and knocking me to the ground. with a swift motion its other foot was on my chest, pressing hard the air out of me. one of its talons was inches from my forehead and as in instinctively struggled out of its grip, it just tightened it more, and the talon slowly sliced down my face. that’s how i got this scar. i’m surprised i still have my eye.

    for a while it felt like an eternity, but in truth is was mere moments, me trapped under her foot, her beak so close to my face, the occasional darting glance from her eyes perched on the sides of her head. i tell you, i’ve been an adventurer all my life and it never gets easy, it never stops being terrifying. ever. and this was no exception to that rule. anyway. i don’t know what caused the tozha to let go, but she decided to lift her foot from my body and take padrage’s body in her massive beak. then she turned and was off, running in the darkness toward her flock. i laid there for a moment, collecting myself. the hole cut into the water had already frozen over. i was alone. i picked myself up and grabbed the light padrage had been holding, and trudged slowly back to camp, feeling the bruising on my ribs, the frozen blood on my face, fearing frostbite on my nose.

    when i got to camp the warren was full of men like me, men who were battered, bruised, cut, sliced, frostbitten. and some were dead. preyster gahrain chided me for allowing the tozha to take padrage’s body. “now they’ll have a taste for human!” he cried. i just crawled into my hole and wept.

  • 191: (prince)

    prince died today. holy shit. that’s like a punch to the gut. i didn’t even listen to the guy that much but i’ve heard enough to know that he’s good. real good. has been for over 30 years. and now he’s dead all of a sudden. sure he made his impact, and honestly his later stuff isn’t as good as his 80s and 90s work, but isn’t that always the case? eventually you just cease being relevant in art. that’s just how it goes. eventually you don’t change mindsets, you just make art. that’s artistic entropy. you have to create because that’s all you’ve done for 30, 40 years. but it ain’t the same. not the same urgency or pressure. you’re older, you’re staler, you’re not longer in the limelight of the cultural zeitgeist. prince, man, prince was the zeitgeist, prince was the forefront of the 80s music revolution. prince took bowie’s 70s weirdness and sexualized it and millions of people across the world suddenly realized how many weird fetishes they were into. and they had to, like, deal with it, because the music was so good and prince was so popular. that’s prince, man. no matter how much his output lagged compared to his earlier work, the fact is, he has earlier work, work that changed people, that changes people still. at least he has that stuff.

    man. what a life to have lived. i’d give so much for a life like that. i mean, i haven’t given enough. i should give so much for a life like that. i’m sure prince had. nobody plays guitar that well without hours or practice. and to be so reserved, so reclusive, so introverted. the man is a legend to people who desire to noodle around on their guitar in their bedrooms. rest in peace man. rest in peace.

  • 190: (cute dog spokesperson)

    vote cute dog for president. cute dog is unlike any other candidate you’ve ever witnessed. tough on bones, soft on hearts, cute dog rallies the best in men and women, and can melt even the most cold and iron of hearts. vote cute dog 2016. cute dog is always by your side when you wake up, and nestles its cute little dog head against your neck when you sleep. cute dog never snores, but does kind of make a cute buzzing sound when it exhales. the sound is cute but never annoying. vote cute dog 2016. cute dog loves walks but won’t pull on your leash when you walk it. vote cute dog 2016. cute dog sometimes after it runs, it sticks its tongue out a little bit while it’s panting, god it’s fucking cute, and then you’re like, “hey cute dog look at your tongue!” and then cute dog cocks its head diagonally and you can’t even deal with that. vote cute dog 2016. cute dog needs you to take it outside to poop and pee on things, but cute dog promises to never scratch at your leg incessantly or make high pitched yipping noises. cute dog knows to be respectful when asking to go outside to poop and pee. cute dog may ask for scraps while you eat dinner but it will always be via a cute dog-appointed scraps ambassador. vote cute dog 2016. finally, cute dog promises to hump the stuffed giraffe toy you bought for cute dog in the privacy and comfort of the farthest corner in your walk-in closet. please take these things into consideration this election year, and vote cute dog, 2016. thank you.

  • 189: tryvell antaleus, padoran exhaler

    the wisdom of padora is one that can never be overstated. her grace and mercy are the ultimate power in our world. she who is cosmic flesh sought to breathe in the breath of life so that we may live and take part in the grand revelry that is life. for this we are eternally grateful. you, child, are a skeptic, an asker of important questions, one who sees cracks in the logic of the universe and seeks to pry those cracks open until the foundations are split in two. this is good, this is a part of padora’s wisdom, bestowed upon you: you are given the task of proving the truth of the world to the nonbelievers and believers alike. do not tread these boards lightly. many before you and many after will spend their waking hours studying the scrolls given to us by padora’s trusted angels, trying to find a slip in her words, an error in translation, or any other issue that can be used against her. this is not the true skeptic’s path. the skeptic uses questions to help define the presence of padora, not her absence. those that pursue the absence of the goddess are doomed to destitute failure, cast out of padora’s light and exiled to the barbarian lands to the north. please understand, initiate, that there are skeptics outside of padoran skepticism, those whose fundamental premise is that padora herself does not exist. those skeptics die alone, and hungry, in caves and on plains, or are murdered by the ravenous hordes in the north. they are your enemies and are not to be trusted. do not ally with the dark skeptics. they will be your downfall.

  • 188: jim the bonebreaker

    [over a loudspeaker]

    so, how many of you motherfuckers do i have to kill before i get to your boss? huh? ten? twenty? i got enough ammo for all of you. they don’t call me jim the bonebreaker for nothing! i hope you all got great life insurance for your wives and kids because none of you are coming out of here alive unless i get to talk to the head honcho, dig me? now, before you decide to get shredded by me, let’s talk this out. we all know you had fifty men stationed out front, right? fifty men, fully trained and well-armed. well they’re all dead now. all but two, i think. those two i let live because i’m random like that. now i know there’s four times as many henchmen in this building, but if you think i can take on fifty men, you better fucking believe i can take on two hundred. bring it on. all you have to do is bring the big man down to the lobby–i’m not in the lobby by the way, don’t be dumbshits like that–and give me five minutes to talk. i’ll give you … an hour to figure out the logistics. hell, set some traps while you’re at it. i’d be happy to disarm them. ambushes? love it. bring them on. hell, throw a grenade at me next time you see me. oh but the problem is you won’t see me when i slit your throat, trust me.

    remember, one hour and then i start torching the place to ferret out your stupid, piece of shit, dumb motherfucking boss. could make this real easy, or real, real difficult. your choice. hasta luego, bitches!

  • 187: monica (too many lemons)

    carter bought a bunch of lemons because they were on sale. we have four bags of lemons. what the hell am i supposed to do with all these lemons? they’re gonna go bad, i have to use them before they go bad. i have to start making all of these dishes with lemons in them and drink lemon water and make lemon sorbet or something. carter does this all the damn time, always impulse buying. it drives me insane. remember when he bought all that rhubarb and suddenly we’re eating strawberry rhubarb pie every night for two months? two months! that is way too much time to be eating any kind of pie, much less the same flavor, every day. i’m going to talk to him. i have to talk to him about it. he gets on woot every day and sometimes i’ll come home and there will be like five iphones and i’ll be like “carter why did you buy five iphones?” and he says, “they were on sale on woot” and i’m like “what are you going to do with five iphones?” and he’s like “sell them” and i’m like “you just bought them from an overstock company, are the refurbished?” and he’s like “ahem, factory reconditioned” and i’m like “whatever, they’re too old and you’re not going to make any money!” and then these five iphone 4s or whatever just sit on ebay for two months until he gets mad and takes them off. there is a drawer in his study that is full of old phones, i swear to god. he’s a good man but he just buys a lot of really dumb shit sometimes. so anyway that’s why you have two lemon wedges in your hefeweisen, because god damn it i have to use up all these lemons!

  • 186: roger (the bro and the groom)

    hey, come here. come here. sit down. let me talk to you. listen to me okay? you can’t just run away from this, man. that’s the love of your life out there, she’s waiting for you, you can’t get cold feet at this point. look, i know you don’t get a lot of real help from us when it comes to marriage. you’re friends with a bunch of drunk bachelors, i get it. i know it. every night when i come home from work and i crack open a beer i feel another day of my life slough off like dead skin. i stare at the TV screen like a drone, a, a, a creature designed to work and sleep. when you can carla got together we made fun of you because we’re all jealous, or at the very least, see, when something good happens to someone, especially a friend of yours, it automatically makes you think about your own life. it’s impossible not to. when kenny stopped drinking we all thought about our drinking habits, remember? and then we made a conscious decision to keep drinking and smoking and fucking around. so when you met carla we suddenly had to think about our own lives. and yeah we gave you shit, because it’s easier to give you shit than clean up our acts. if anything you should be giving us shit. but now you’re getting married and you should be getting married, no matter what ted or patrick say. carla is a wonderful woman and perfect for you. the rest of us are just sad that we’re not going to see you as much, and frustrated because of course we have to start going to the gym and shit like that. so do not use any of our opinions to adjust your position here, okay man? you get out there and you marry that woman. we’ll be fine. we’ll be fine.

  • 185: corus (one for many)

    nobody wants this. nobody is happy about this. but of all the possibilities we currently have, this plan is the only one that’s going to work. that’s it. end of story. so you’re welcome to complain but you’re outnumbered and they are coming and we don’t have a lot of time. i highly recommend all of you get this bullshit out of your system before we head out, by the way. you’re going to need all of your senses ready when we leave. got it? look, i’m one of you, i know the world is all fucked up, but we have to make small sacrifices in order to protect the group. this creates the least amount of trouble and saves the most amount of people, and if we’re lucky, jaden’s plan will even get us out of the city, but it all hinges on this. so get in here and grab a stick. let’s get it over with, we don’t have much time. smallest one wins. loses. whatever. and if you lose please do not freak out, there are guards near enough, they will hear you and they will kill all of us, you understand? and remember this is not punishment! this is a small sacrifice for the greater good! you will be forever in our minds as the martyr who died so that we could all live. it is the greatest sacrifice any one of us could make. you will be known as a hero for centuries to come, that i will promise you!

  • 184: helen (kevin's big d)

    kevin, i love you a lot but your dick is too big. i just, i have to say it. it’s like getting fucked by the fat end of a baseball bat. it hurts! wipe that pride off your face, asshole, this is a big deal. my shit tears up when you fuck me and then one wrong move with the bathroom and toilet paper and i’ve got an infection. and then you’re out of sex for a few weeks while i heal up. how do you like that? you can’t just jackhammer me in doggy, you can’t, i know that’s what porn looks like but, no, no, that’s not acceptable in real life. it hurts in the morning and then i’m pissed at you all day while i shift awkwardly in my chair at work. you gotta start watching those porns where they’re softer, more mellow. stop watching nacho vidal rip open a lady’s asshole with his thermos-sized cock. and no, you are no nacho vidal, okay? we have to go slower, you have to give my pussy some time to relax, okay? i’m surprised no other woman has given you this talk, kevin. it’s kind of a big deal. a huge deal. okay not a huge deal, don’t–look it’s not great to have a big dick man! it’s not great! it’s great for pornography because it’s easier to see on screen, but you by far have the biggest dick i’ve ever sat on and it’s so big it’s making me reconsider childbirth, okay? let’s go get some burritos.

  • 183: chuck (destitute)

    i’ve been destitute for a long time. the sidewalk just feels like home at this point. sun, rain, snow, it doesn’t matter, i’ll find a way to sleep. i’ve had people shout at me, people actually throw their change in my face. one time a rich guy, or at least he looked rich, he pulled a money clip from his pocket, pulled out a twenty dollar bill, and, i’m not shitting you, he threw it into the gutter right next to me. just tossed it like it was nothing. i scrambled to get it but at that time i was drunk, high, or withdrawing hard most of the time so my reflexes weren’t that great. i try not to sit next to gutters anymore.

    vagrants these days, they have all these funny signs. “need weed money,” or shit like that. one lady a few blocks from me, well, i should say, it’s a whole family. dad, mom, and their kid. cute kid. the family was nice too, genuinely sobered up but destitute, you know, so they have this sign, i can’t remember exactly what it said but basically they take the money they earn and go stay at a hotel at night, and the next morning they tape the new receipt to their sign. they’re like, “here, here’s proof that we’re trying.” so you got that and you got the guys with signs like “i just need a beer” or whatever. trying to be funny.

    the funny ones piss me off. they ain’t really broke. you’ll see ’em walk to a car, drive off somewhere. they’re just fucking around. keeping guys like me from getting a fair shot. but that’s what the world’s like isn’t it. same template as the rich, just set on the poor.