Acquisitions Forthcoming

A momentary reprieve, to delve briefly into the Waking Life side of things.

In the latter part of last week, I had developed a plan of attack for the weekend. With pleasant weather imminent, and an old comrade visiting Columbus -- and by extension, me -- I surmised that this would be a perfect occasion to begin procuring such grown-up things as furniture. To date, the apartment in which I sit has maintained a minimal profile; mostly, it houses me, two computers, and a television that is gathering dust. Two recliners, also gathering dust. A quiet existence, and easy to clean!

The battle plan for the weekend involved the aforementioned friend's assistance in transporting a new sofa as well as a dining table set. Playing grown-up must involve material acquisitions.

Also on the agenda was finding fuzzy company, in the form of two young sibling cats from a nearby shelter (Kia and Legacy, as they are currently known).

Unfortunately, the aforementioned friend was unable to travel to Columbus by way of his broken-down vehicle, and the cat shelter seemed to be unexpectedly closed for the weekend, counter to the information provided via a telephone conversation.

No matter; all things, with time. Efforts will continue!

Warfare & Androgyny

I stood atop a small hill overlooking the massive field. The open ground stretched outward to the curved horizon before my line of sight. In front of me, a Tauren army gathered, so violently massive and clamorous and odiferous that I was nearly overwhelmed to tears, even as a passive onlooker. The whole of the immense plain was filled with these impressive bovine warriors, and they were quickly falling into formations that spanned miles apiece. In no time, it seemed they were prepared for battle; millions of Tauren began to stomp the ground, and to bellow and roar in anticipation of the battle to come.

The Tauren emissary returned from the distant reaches of the open plain, with word of their opponents. The innumerable soldiers momentarily quieted, to heed the forthcoming news.

"I can't find them! Are you all quite positive we're in the right place?"

Millions of Tauren stopped stomping the ground, and instead moaned and grunted and ambled back to their tents. Somewhat disappointed, but with newfound curiosity, I approached the Tauren encampment.

I was surprised to find that the warriors had quickly pulled out a number of items, and wares, and placed them on display near their respective areas. With my head down, I approached one of the massive beasts, and inquired into this new development.

Speaking in an unexpectedly high tone, the Tauren before me squeaked, "Oi, these battles. They ain't free. Not free at all. Very expensive! We all have lives, y'see, and these here fights stop us from earning the gold from our Daily Quests." He paused to stomp at the ground, and snorted. "Pity! To recover our losses, we set up shop for you peasants. That's right. We need your money, and we can't just take it from you. No. Quite wrong. Which is why we kindly ask you to buy our wares, help us afford these vicious battles. Good shows, they are!"

"Not today, it wasn't. With all respect, it was like staring at a cow field. Many of you pooped. The piles are still right over there."

"Ah, yes. I'd love to bash you for your crass tongue, but quite right. Quite right. Today was not the finest."

"What is this that you are selling, good sir?" I inquired.

"ACTION FIGURES!" he proclaimed with a broad gesture, sweeping his plated gloves over his merchandise. With glee, I inspected the array of action figures and collectible toys. All were modeled to the likeness of the Tauren fighters, and fully articulated! The detail was incredible; clearly, these were quality action figures, well worth the investment to assist in the funding of the Tauren soldiers, such as the fine cow with whom I had been speaking.

Pointing at a cluster of toys that had caught my eye, I glanced back up to the Tauren and mumbled "...And what of those? They don't seem to match the nature of the other figures."

"Oh, right, the wheelchair crew. Odd lot, there. Yes, you ought not say I told you so, but we honestly haven't a wheelchair crew. We Tauren could hardly sit in the things, let alone fight in them. But, you know how the world is these days. Yes, yes, political correctness all around. Pity, really."

Without commenting further, I purchased a small allotment of figures from the verbose Tauren, and returned to my car, on the other side of the hill. Two of my mafia friends were near my car. I could not remember how I knew them; I didn't even know their names. I also did not know why they were bothering Jackie Chan, who was clearly wearing a costume for a recent film shoot.

"I am no woman!" Jackie Chan shouted at my two estranged mafia acquaintances; to their credit, his costume was an extremely feminine dress, bright and flowery. "This is a costume! A dance scene in my next movie! Stop touching me! Ew!"

I stated the obvious. "Guys, that's Jackie Chan. He's not a woman; stop flirting with him. And check out these sweet Tauren action figures I just bought!"

The two mafia men recoiled, realizing that they had been attempting to grope a man in drag. Jackie Chan frolicked away. The two men glared accusingly at me. I was beginning to suspect that they would not be interested in my new action figures.

"He was going to let us make fools of ourselves! He knew that was Jackie Chan all along! Ugh! Quick, grab him!"

The larger of the two men grabbed both of my arms, and for a moment, I lamented that I never was able to play with my toys. Good lord, this man was huge -- I had not noticed that he was very easily eight feet tall, and frighteningly bulky.

"Break his arms!"

The big man shook my arms slightly. He looked back at his comrade with a pathetic pout, and announced, "Aww, he's too scrawny! I can't get a grip on his little sissy arms!" As though to prove his point, he shook my arms again. He seemed to be telling the truth; his fingers were more massive than my arms, and he lacked the dexterity (and mental fortitude) to consider any other way to break my arms than via his tried-and-true method.

"Oh, he's cunning! Well then, I suppose we'd better take him back and force him to watch Jackie Chan movies until his arms break. Throw him in his car! Get in the backseat, you squab, I'm riding shotgun!"

As I drove the three of us home, I mused quietly, "All right! Jackie Chan movies! This is so awesome!"

In search of...

Well, hello there. It stands to reason that you who are currently reading these fine words know me, else you'd not have found yourself here. And, equally likely, I know you; so, in this regard, Howdy.

By virtue of our familiarity, I can forgo the cumbersome exclamations pertaining to a rationale of explication for having joined this cozy little Blogspot community. Instead, let us instead read of a recent dream - a journey, in search of food.

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Sitting quietly in a house with no light with my comrade Shawn, we gazed around the room in search of activity. Nearly silent, we both wondered why the lights and television and computers were turned off; neither of us resolved to break the silence.

I was determined to break the silence.

"Dude," I proclaimed, "I'm freaking hungry."

"It's too late already," Shawn retorted. "Nothing will be open at this hour. Besides, it's probably cold outside."

Within moments, we were wandering outside in pale blue snow. We stumbled upon a path that was marked by burning torches, that popped and sizzled and punctuated the chilly evening air. Without any other variety of guide or purpose, we began to follow the illuminated path, hoping highly for food.

We eventually found ourselves approaching a very large house; the burning torches lead to the entryway, and provided enough light to see that the house was something more like a tavern. Large, Nordic-looking individuals were entering and exiting the tavern, laughing and shoving and yelling at one another. Shawn and I presumed that large Nordic-looking individuals must also eat food, and entered the establishment to complete our quest.

Inside, I realized that this was not simply a lowly tavern; this was something more! This was a Chinese-food-bar! Scary, hairy men and women were eating lo mein noodles, and drinking flagons of warm mead; an impressive fire roared at the end of the bar within a firepit. A welcome sight: Food was cooking near the hearth!

Shawn and I stealthily crept to the cooking food, and attempted to steal away with it. Holy crap, the big scary men were fast! They noticed our pitiful attempt to steal food, and lifted us into the air! We were punted out the front door, back into the pale blue snow.

Determined not to be disappointed by such a minor setback as being mildly accosted by intimidating men and women, Shawn and I crept back through the front door. Wandering beyond the Chinese-food-bar, we were in momentary awe of the dimensions of this particular indoor establishment: The room opened into a vast bazaar, full of multitudes of people selling various items and goods! Near the center of the bazaar, we could easily discern a high-rising throne, upon which sat the Lord of the Bazaar.

Almost immediately, our presence was once again detected, and large scary men hauled us to the steps before the Lord of the Bazaar. Informed that we were lowly beggars, the Lord of the Bazaar pulled out a poster from beneath his throne; from our vantage point at the bottom of the steps, it appeared to read "Levels of Severity of Punishments."

The Lord of the Bazaar seemed indifferent. "Meh...they're only worth a Level Three or Four on this list. Go slap them around a bit, but please don't tire yourselves," he instructed his minions.

Shawn and I looked at one another. "Screw that!" I yelled, and we dashed for the far side of the bazaar.

Surprisingly, there was not a wall on the far side of the bazaar; rather, there was a mountain that rose through the ceiling, into the sky, and beyond the clouds. At the time, it seemed there was only one option: Ascend.

Shawn and I climbed quickly, finding a slight pathway that lead directly to the distant peak. Heavy snow began to fall, and we knew that, if we were ever to find food for our hungry bellies, we would need to seek out the great hermit of the mountain peak - our comrade, Orion.

After a great deal of climbing and struggling, we neared the peak. The wind blew violently, thrashing us with wretched cold and veritable clumps of snow. At last, ahead - we saw him! Orion! But did he have food for us?

Orion himself had become a part of the mountain; all that we could see of him was a portion of his face, protruding from stones in a wall of the mountain. Like the Cheshire cat, he grinned at us; the wind and snow blew more violently still, and the white clumps of snow began to cover Orion's face.

Eyes wide and teeth bared, Orion gradually disappeared under the accumulating snow of the mountain.