[I've been sifting through some old boxes, the kind that were packed several moves ago and never quite got unpacked. In one I found a notebook I used to carry around and in it this little gem. This would have been... about 5 or 6 years ago.]

I came across a man today who was talking to a tree.
I felt it incumbent upon me to ask, specifically, why he was doing this.
Instead of answering what I felt was a reasonably specific question, he told me about a boy in Tibet who, when asked a question about things he knows nothing about (eg. something scientific) he can walk into a small grove of trees, ask the question aloud and then sit among the trunks and meditate. After a while (the time varies greatly so the man tells me) the boy will smile, and bow to the trees as he leaves the small grove. He will then give shockingly accurate answers to the questions. He wont use any terminology he didn't know beforehand, but he will attempt to explain (and succeed) in his own words, the answer.

I asked the man about bowing to the trees. Does the boy believe that they are where the answers come from? Would it not be more reasonable to assume the boy has some clairvoyant abilities? I was told that yes, the boy attributes the answers he receives to the trees, and why should we doubt them? My response to this was that trees don't talk. At least not in any way we can understand...much like any plant. It has been documented that under certain circumstances (an approaching fire) plants can and will transmit signals into their root structures and thus the ground around them, but people don't have roots to 'hear' them.

He seemed displeased by this, so I tried a different tack.
Assuming the boy can communicate with trees, how, I asked, do the trees in a small grove in Tibet know the answers to specific questions about varied subjects they will never come in contact with? At this the man chuckled and pulled out and unfolded a piece of paper, on which he had assembled a collection of warning label tags from actual appliances. Among them were: On a mattress: Do not swallow; on a chainsaw: Do not attempt to stop chain with hands or genitals; and on a water heater: If building containing heater is on fire, do not enter building. There were of course many more along side those pearls.

How do the trees know the answers to any given question? he repeated. He looked at me for a long moment before inquiring '.....How do people?'. And then the man said good bye to the tree (but not me) and ran (yes ran) away.

I am filled with glee that people like this exist. He may have been completely crazy, or maybe some flavor of retarded. He may have been acting like a loon to a complete stranger only to run away and have himself a chuckle (I know this happens because I do it). He may have seriously believed that trees are a sentient psychic race and should perhaps supplant humans as the dominant form of life. He may have been a dangerous escapee from an institution where they keep dangerous pre-escapees.

Either way, I feel my world is enriched to have bathed in the glow of his ... whatever it was.

[And you people think >I'm< strange...]

Sated and Sedated

Just had a meal that could have killed a lesser man.

I swear to god I ordered a salad and some soup.

By the end of the meal I had eaten:

Half a plate of Fried Calamari,
5 sweet bread rolls,
a hand full of very spicy batter fried 'firecracker shrimp',
a large bowl of a thick creamy crab bisque,
a large salad full of amazingly perfect half cooked Ahi Tuna pieces and cranberries,
half of mom's wonderfully seasoned shoelace french fries,
half of Carrie's self same french fries,
a massive slab of white chocolate cheesecake in a lake of raspberry drizzle,
and
3 draft Guinness Stouts (which count as food items, you know this to be true).

Rarely do I get to feel as I currently do.

Mark it on your calenders my friends, Niq is full.

Communique Souffle

It has come to my attention that I allowed a relatively meaningless situation to infuriate me on a completely disproportionate scale. As this has been remedied we now return you to your regularly scheduled Niq.

Today I got a new toy. Check it out.

http://reviews.cnet.com/cell-phones/lg-venus-vx8800-black/4505-6454_7-32640930.html

My old phone was a warrior, an old Sprint model that was actually made of metal and brawn. For a little over three years it managed to survive being with me 24/7 (something I've yet to find a person capable of coming out of in one piece) and amazingly is being retired still fully functional and with full honors. I just tried to list the things I've done to/with it and its a very long list. I abused the phone thoroughly and it came out still swinging is pretty much the point here.

However battle hardened the Sprint phone may be, he still drops like a sack when the Venus puts a bullet in his kneecap without even breaking stride on her way to the bar.

Potential new job, sleek new cloths, sleek new phone.
I do believe I am justifiably pleased.

-PRAISE HOJO!

RE: Knowing Just What To Say

[17:27] ME: you is away
[17:27] ME: leave a message?
[17:27] ME: how 'bout a banana?
[17:28] ME: dont like bananas? have a squash.
[17:28] ME: squash too much like a banana? have a cucumber.
[17:28] ME: or a banana milkshake. that doesnt even resemble a banana.
[17:29] ME: allergic to bananas?
[17:29] ME: bananas will fix that.
[17:29] ME: bananas are good for you.
[17:29] ME: eat them so they will be useful.
[17:29] ME: being useful makes bananas happy.
[17:29] ME: happy bananas taste better.
[17:30] ME: and a tasty banana is a much happier banana.
[17:31] ME: thus it stands to reason that a banana, by its very nature, is infinately tasty.
[17:31] ME: thats just good sound logic.
[17:33] ME: I dont have any bananas. I do, however, have a carrot.
[17:33] ME: carrots are good for you in a much different way than bananas.
[17:33] ME: carrots help you to see with your eyes.
[17:34] ME: if you can see without your eyes, you are either some form of super being or a person who eats lots and lots of carrots.
[17:34] ME: there is a threshold of 'better' when speaking of carrots and thier effect on your eyesight.
[17:35] ME: when does 'better' become 'best' ... for that matter when does 'better' become 'super human'?
[17:35] ME: the effects of carrots are both mysterious and mesmerizing.
[17:35] ME: (brief pause while i go get another carrot)
[17:37] Sturevant: Dude. Are you high?
[17:37] ME: not at all. im very very angry.
[17:40] ME: [summerizatoin of previous post]
[17:40] ME: im f u r i o u s at myself.
[17:43] ME: i find that a kind of suessian whimsy allows me to skim over the surface of my deep emotional disturbances and allow me to present a childlike smile to the world.
[17:43] ME: by the way, these carrots were dirt cheap and they are fucking delisious.
[17:43] Sturtevant: I bet Seuss liked bananas.

...your goddamn right he did.

Curtailed via Curb-Stomp

...

A 40 hour torrent.
A search for assistance crowned by waiting on hold for a full hour before the problem was fixed (apparently by placing a little check in a box labeled 'authorized').
Another nail-biting 40 minutes of patching while I read up on my chosen race/class.
The excitement of watching the program open and the cinematics scroll by.
The careful creation of what would be my avatar.
My character emerging from the basic dwarf model like a sculpture from a block of marble.
The moment of naming coming and going... The beginner area loading...

...

The massive fail that is the lack of reading the minimum specs for the goddamn game ahead of time.
My computer groaning and screaming under the weight of the particle physics and textures the graphics engine was flogging it with.

There truly is no one to blame for this but myself.

...

This is how super-villains are made.

Savory Samples of Suck

Correction: The Warhammer Online Open Beta Preview Weekend started....around 10am.

But my account isn't working properly, so I cant login or complete the necessary patching to play the goddamn thing. This isn't stopping those dubious bastards I allow to consider themselves my friends from telling me ALL about it.

So, here I sit. Sauteing in my displeasure. Wishing a hell full of broken glass and road salt on those smarmy bastards that insist on updating me about how various functions of the game work. Waiting (most likely in vain) for someone at the other end of a nebulous email address to receive my query and respond with something helpful. Less probable things have happened... though I'm hard-pressed to come up with one.

Man, good thing I spent all that time applying for the beta and reserving a copy of the game at my local GameStapo to get into the limited preview weekend.

...Hojo-Damnit!

The Xbox Cometh

If there was a game called 'Holy Crispy Christ On A Crutch Microsoft Sent Me A Replacement XBox 360 And It Arrived'...

Today I would be the winner.

Also, Warhammer Online Beta opens at 3.00 am. I will be there.

FUN FACT: Pizza is ALWAYS better with beer. Remember that.

-PRAISE HOJO!

The Insanity of a Manatee

First, if you've never played Psychonauts, do so post haste. It's funny and irreverent and psychotic and scarring, all requirements of keeping my attention. In and around all of this, it managed to be fun to play as well. A 3D platformer with a broken sense of self and a bent appeal. The controls could have used a little work (who the fuck ever wanted a game to invert EVERY axis? this is the default option) and the lighting is obstinately low at some points, but all in all its amazing.

Second, I expect Adam to make a post soon alluding to the fact that before he can do any webmastering of our comic, he needs to learn more Ruby On Rails. Thus he comes home from work and has work waiting for him. I feel terrible about that, and have asked him to progress at a pace that wont burn him out. Send love and support to our Adam, folks.

Third, this Mairead chick is awesome. That's all I'm gonna say about that.

Fourth, no matter how much you may think that putting chocolate syrup in oatmeal is an acceptable idea: YOU ARE WRONG. I tried it today, regular oatmeal, no flavor. 'Well' I thought, 'chocolate is good, perhaps I should put some in my oatmeal.' I believe I deserve to be punished for the sin I committed in the creation of this atrocity. I also believe that I suffered that punishment in the form of forcing myself to eat that swill.

-PRAISE HOJO

Mafioso Medicant

It's looking highly likely that come the first of the month I shall be running a tuxedo store. While this fuels (almost dangerously) both my current Steampunk fascination and my long established Sinatra Fanboyism, I am loath to return to any establishment that resides within a mall. On the other hand not only do I have other fingers, but it would be very nice to actually have an income capable of being spent on things that aren't directly needful for survival (something I miss very much).

So, shall I once again punch 'The Man' in the nads at the expense of my piece of mind, or shall I suck up whatever misgivings I may have about our culture and take the job in the mall? Even I'm not sure which will occur.

I must say though... It's been a while since I had legal recourse to order people around sheerly for my amusement. There's something inherently wrong in my longing for this.

Hojo Volente, my wardrobe is about to get a massive face lift.

Nerds + Beer = Tabletop Gaming

Adam and John dropped by last night.
Drank all my beer, played all my BESM.
Threw a centaur off an airship.
Lit almost everything they saw on fire.
Caused the deaths of innocents.
Got blackmailed by children.
Refused to associate with goblins.
And drank all my beer.

Such is life.

PRAISE HOJO!

Bright Red Aluminum Intestines

I just wrote a long entry, then pressed the back button. Presto-chango, what was a long post is now an empty text field.

Ok. Recap.

Mairead has a link in her blog to a review of F.E.A.R. The fellow who made it makes them weekly for various games/aspects of gaming culture. Go browse them, they are amazing.

School starts soon.

Name chosen for the comic. Prison Day.
www.prison-day.com will be ours very soon.
Brain trust meeting tomorrow to actually spend the money.

So much anger.
-PRAISE HOJO!

Loadstone Lullaby

Why is it that days that begin in the wee hours of the morning tend to not end until those same hours of the next?

Well, the die is cast and the decision made. There will very soon be a web comic out there with the names of both my jaded and overly artistic friend Paul and myself affixed to it. To be utterly correct, Adam's name shall appear in correlation to it as well, as everyone must needs pay homage to their webmaster. In our case said supplication will be in the form of small animal sacrifices, no matter how little he wants them.

Can three bitter, misanthropic twenty-somethings who've spent their lives critiquing the work of others successfully contribute something new and creative to the world without collapsing under the weight of their own hypocrisy?

Tune in next week to find out.

Ah, The Wonders of Education

[15:07] Sturtevant: She does Renaissance poetry.
[15:07] Sturtevant: Particularly the longest poem in the English Language
[15:08] Sturtevant: Which, according to her, has merits other than length.
[15:08] Sturtevant: I, hopefully, am similar in this way, in her estimation.
[15:08] Me: OH! HIGHLY EDUCATED VAUGE DICK JOKE!

WTB SLEEP!!!

My bed is lovely dark and deep,
But I has promises to keep,
And blog to write before I sleep,
And blog to write before I sleep.

Finally home.
Luggage, Driveway, Steps, Door, Steps, Hallway, Door, Luggage, Bed.

Luckily my computer is accessible from my bed, so posting requires little to no effort. (I'm fairly certain this is a symptom of some larger problem.)

The Con (as you are aware) was phenomenal. Got stuff signed by Mookie, Hawk and Ananth (Hawk's writer). Got Domo-Kun plush. Got 'Horton Hears Cthulhu' shirt. Got pin addiction. Got most epic eye-wear ever (-175 Peripheral Vision / +50 Green Filter/ +10% rep gain with Goblins). Met new and interesting people with new and interesting psychosis. Ate a bacon quesadilla. Generally committed my person to excessive levels of abuse. (That's right Jessie, Aggressive Inline Coning hurts.)

PRAISE HOJO!!
- End Transmission-

And Thus It Continued

Firstly, I forgot in my initial post to thank Mr. Max Cannon (and his blithe web comic RED MEAT) for naming his individual comics so sardonically and hopefully not being angry with me for using one of his titles to name this blog.

Otakon is this weekend. From everything I've been told this sounds like it's going to be a good time. I'll be attending in the esteemed company of Mr. Portier et al. For those of you who'll read this, I'll be the giant guy in the Nixon mask. That's right, Nixon is totally anime. Search your feelings, you know this to be true. Also, I am personally firmly of the opinion that several people need to migrate towards Adam's house this weekend for some intensive Rock Band sessions. Kicking the crap out of anyone foolish enough to pick up a battle rifle is always acceptable as well.

If you know how to get ahold of me, do so when you arrive at the convention center in the morning. Be aware however, that if you spend the day in my presence, you may be witness to acts of violence towards anyone dressed as Rikku. I've been informed that my ex-fiance will be carpooling with those Dan Larson is attending with. This is not something I will be discussing, not something I will be addressing, and not something I will be dealing with. Should a situation arise where I am presented with her in person, I shall be walking away with little to no warning or explanation.

...I really don't want to go into that. Suffice to say that I'm officially a cold, broken, bitter bastard and if you're close enough to me to care about the details, you most likely already know them. That's so very much more than enough of that on the eve of what I'm told is the biggest Con on the East Coast. Prepare yourselves if you can, for the Terror, the Excitement, the Pontification!!

See you at the Con.

Thus It Began

Apparently the course of human history has taken such a woefully wrong turn that it became needful for me to be able to inflict my broken little ethos on others. If I, perhaps, find some cathartic release in screaming from my soapbox until my eyes bleed, all the better. I've never really been a fan of either blogging or bloggers, but perhaps its time for that to change.

Before beginning this possibly unhealthy activity officially, I would like to take a moment to make something very clear. This is not about attention seeking, or angst, or drama. If you seek those things go elsewhere, for I have no use for you. Having said that, sad/unpleasant things happen to people. Should they happen to me, and be translated into text and appear in this blog... Ya know what? I'm going to try to prevent that from happening. It's better for everyone that way.

Right, Well. This is Post #1. Blame Adam.

I suppose its best to begin with the basics.

• My name is Nicholas, I go by Niq. (yes that's a Q, its not witty or clever or unique, its my name)
• I'm a quarter of a century old.
• I was born in TX, but moved to MD before age 2. Lived in this depressingly semi-police state ever since. It might be taking it too far to liken my place of residence to, say, Nazi occupied Poland. So I wont.
• Ive been a Dishwasher, a DirecWay Service and Installation Technician, Several flavors of Manager, a Tree Removal person, a cook, a bartender, a bouncer and a Remote Maintenance Tech. In and around all that I've tried very hard to be a student. Should have A+ soon enough.
• I write, read, run, play WoW too much, play Bass Guitar, and spend the bulk of my time pacing the few cleared square inches inside my much abused skull.
  

What you can expect here: Tirades on things that make me angry enough to remember them long enough to post them, Quotes from people who said things I wish I had, Responses to queries put to me by my loyal public (In case you aren't aware, thats you now, deal with it).

Thats all you get.