Sunday, July 30, 2017

Only This And Nothing More

Mature Content

rap thrice upon the window,
scare me half to death,
make a rude gesture,
then continue on your path;

forget when I slighted,
your fault begat your due,
I didn't pay for piperage,
I gave what did ensue.

rap thrice on the window,
and I'll open up a pane,
squeeze yourself betwixt
the glass and the frame,

come quietly inside,
disappear between the sheets,
and when I come to bed
guide me under your pleats.

rap thrice, tap tap tap,
when I've stayed up late,
but I know the cost,
and it's definitely not your place.

Tuesday, July 25, 2017


so many written prayers,
forgotten promises, lost hopes;
so much wishing I'd done things differently,
and at the end of the rope;

so many misplaced melodies,
sonnets slip through the cracks;
words I'd said, wished I'd said,
pledged to have your back;

songs we danced to--
ground we'd fall to--
rain that couldn't touch our tears;
and the time
I made you decide...
fallout fulfilled our greatest fears.

Not Letting Go

not choices,
not voices,
not wondering if better off,
not someone else,
not for worse or health,
not in the darkness getting lost,
not falling,
not crawling,
not cliff-edge losing grip,
not floundering,
not drowning,
not feeling your fingers start to slip,
not forgetting,
not regretting,
not missed connections on the road,
not danger,
not anger,
I am not letting go.

Thursday, July 13, 2017

From the Internal Narrative of Callidus Igni

"You're done, Ody."

"But-- he can't--"

His narrator stepped up into his personal space. "Are you arguing with me, player?"

Ody dropped his gaze. "No, Mendax."

"That's what I thought. --Okay, line up, folks. Character sheets out, time for an update." She paused until the flurry of pages passed. "Ten percent health or two points, whichever is higher. Speed and ex at a quarter; strength at half; magic at zero. For every point of Charisma, your soul recovers ten percent faster with halving diminishing returns. Any questions?"

The rogue raised her hand.

"Yes, Panna?"

"What's the base recovery rate?"

Mendax glanced at me, and I shrugged, then held up two fingers. She nodded. "Forty-eight hours. Anything else? --No? Good. You're dismissed, and back to camp for the lot of you."

While the five of them trundled off, the Winter Lady stepped out of the shadows and stood next to me. Mendax faced us.

"Thanks for the card. She offered it back.

"Keep it. I've spares. You never know when you might need me."

Mendax tucked it back into her pocket. "Thanks. --So... do you two do this often?"

Breen smiled. "Don't ask me, I only met him tonight, but from what I hear, it's a 'yes.'"

"An NPC freestyling on your arm, you must be special indeed, Callidus Igni. Who is your narrator?"

"Secondus, when he is available." I smirked.

Mendax gaped at me.

Breen glanced between us and burst out laughing. "Oh, I love it when you do that!"

I raised an eyebrow at her, and she covered her mouth, which did nothing but further emphasize her reaction.

Mendax stuttered, as if her brain was still rebooting. "Wait-- you're that-- you--"

"Yes," I interrupted.

"He talks about you a lot. --Not like that. You're the epitome of players, in his eyes, and not because you never drop character, but because you play honestly."

"I don't fault you for doubting."

"Thanks. --So, where are you off to now?"

I shrugged.

"Right, no narrator to tell you where you need to be. Mind if I tag along for a little bit?"

I tilted my head toward the Winter Lady, letting her make the call.

Breen stepped around, linking arms with Mendax instead, picked a direction, and started walking. "So tell me, Mendax. When was the last time you got to play?" While waiting for the reply, Breen turned and winked at me.

It was then that I realized we were heading deeper into the woods, along Ody's original heading.

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Privatization 2/2

Privatization 1/2

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Do you know what's worse than no internet?

Do you know what's worse than no internet? Slow internet.

If you're out somewhere and your device says you have no signal, you pop it back in your pocket and ignore it for a few hours. You find freedom from your device.

If your device says you have a signal, but it's slow, tedious, then instead of waiting for it to pick up, you fight with it, wasting more time than you normally would permit for even the simplest of chores, like checking your email.

There's little you can do when the internet is down, there's nothing you can do when the internet is slow. It's a service that many of us pay arm and leg to, that many of us require to work or run our businesses, or have access to for health and safety.

But it's not considered a utility. As long as you pay your bills, the water company doesn't slow down your pressure for using it for certain reasons. They can't tell you it's okay to water your primroses but not your rhubarb. The gas company can't tell you that you can run your heater but not your grill.

So why can internet service providers artificially throttle websites?

"It's taxing our network too much."

I fail to see how that's the consumer's fault. We're paying you to maintain the network. That's what the bills we pay to maintain our connection are for. And if the companies don't have the money to upgrade the network, that's something to be blamed on the senior executives and their enablers, and their well-padded pockets.

We need to tell them it's not okay.
We need to show them it's not okay.

We need to flood their inboxes and their intake offices, and show them what it's like to have your life slow down because of artificial throttling.

And here's the best part: your local representatives in Congress are as much responsible for the throttling as the execs.

This is a democratic republic we're living in. If you don't like what your rep is doing, you're encouraged to do something about it, to tell them how you feel in person, by phone and fax and email.

Friday, July 7, 2017

From the Internal Narrative of Callidus Igni

The rogue caught up with me outside the forest.

"Hey, hold up."

I paused, but didn't turn back.

"What can I call you?"


"Fire? Okay. Is this something you do often?"

I grunted and started walking again, slowly enough that she could keep pace with me.

"I mean, play without a party or a storyteller. Given the chance, most people..."

I stopped and her feet stuttered.

"You're not most people. I didn't mean anything by that. What I meant was: how?"

"Don't be most people."

She stared silently at me, not trying to peer under the hood, but still trying to make eye contact. "Do you have any tips?"

I extended a hand. "Sheet?"

She reached back and pulled out a tattered paper, wearing holes at the folds, and offered it to me.

I reached within my cloak and pulled out one of my cards, mirroring her gesture.

"That's-- you?"

I grunted, and tucked it back within my folds without letting her peek. I didn't take her own.

"Okay." She turned to go.



"Who are you?"

"You can call me Panna. Mercenary and vanilla mortal at your service." She swept her arms in a flourishing bow.

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