Status Update

I'm not dead. Never was. Unfortunately.

I've been working on some larger projects that, combined with work, have managed to make sure I haven't posted anything on here.

Temporary Hiatus

It's not permanent! Just switching jobs, apartments, diet, exercise regimen... A whole bunch of changes, plus I'm working on a new poetry collection. I only have so much time in the day!

Backlog Blitz: Genesis, Week Eight, "Bad Games Make Me...GROWL"

Have you ever considered that life is meaningless? Me neither. Hahaha. Let's talk about games.

Gauntlet 4

More or less it's a mediocre copy of Gauntlet. I don't think there's anything diffrerent from the original game...

Golden Axe

Well, it's better than the Master System version. But it's still pretty bad. It's just clunky, even compared to contemporary sidescrolling beatemups

Growl

Wow. This is... This is something else in terms of poor quality. A, I'm 100% sure that the main characters are all ripoffs of licensed characters like Indiana Jones. B, the enemy types make no sense--women in business suits and NINJAS? And C, it's a bad game.

Consume, the Journal of a Dreamwalker: Twelfth Dognacht and Forty-Seventh Totemphatht

TWELFTH DOGNACHT

Days pass, then weeks. I cloister myself in the garret lodging, emerging only to eat or replenish the supply of titan-self. Though magnificent vistas and glorious sights reveal themselves unto me, none are my own dreamcity of youth. 

But as time slips past, I find I no longer care whether I rediscover my childhood haunt. Rather, it seems paramount that the dead titan’s memory be recorded. I delve deeper into the titan-self, purchasing not just from the first deiphagist woman, but from many vendors in back alleys and side streets. The power of a titan sears my mind day and night. And yet. And yet, when I put pen to paper in order that the titan might be revered, all words fail. The experience of titanhood cannot be translated into mere mortal words.

FORTY-SEVENTH TOTEMPHATHT

My money runs low. Already I forgo meals for more titan-self. Try as I might, no words flow. At the same time, the memory of my dreamcity has faded until only the vaguest impression of that crystalline inverted palace remain. 

Backlog Blitz: Genesis, Week Seven, "Frog Gargoyles From Gaiares"

Yeah, I don't even have an introduction for this. Alright? Happy now? Bah. I just want to eat ice cream and garlic bread. Because food makes me happy. Food is my bestest friend. I love food. Unlike these games, which are mostly just lackluster. Seriously, Sega. Get your act together.

Consume, the Journal of a Dreamwalker: Sixty-Eighth and Seventy-Fourth Faroe

SIXTY-EIGHTH FAROE
Again and again I delve into the soul of a dead titan, searching for that elusive dreamcity I once called home. Days and nights crawl by, swifter than any bird yet never-ending as infinity. The chunk of titan-self grows small. I dread lest some other seeker find my dreamcity first and profane it with their presence. More titan-self is needed.

SEVENTY-FOURTH FAROE
Every journey to that deiphagist woman’s shop fills me with revulsion. In each passerby’s visage I see malignant marks of deiphagy. These base creatures dine on the great luminous being whose memories I have lived. Unknowing, unheeding, they desecrate a being more glorious than the sun. Knaves. After I find my dreamcity, I will preserve the life of this titan. I will write down each event, each miracle, each great feat. It will be a new epic. A new Gilgamesh, a new Iliad.

Poem Tuesday: "Mega Bloks"

Knock-off Lego:
That's how my life feels sometimes.
None of the pieces fit together quite right.