Category Archives: Geek

Senryu: Break

I want to forget

Comic books in Camden Town,

Wide eyes, trains & lies.

By AE Wallace

Advertisements

Watch “Pixies – Gouge Away” on YouTube

Excerpt from “The Homing” by A.E. Wallace

He had asked to be able to harness the power of storms so he could conduct lightning through the five weirdboyz that accompanied him. Electric fingers spat from them, danced all over Brainbutcha’s armour and snaked out across the field in the direction he pointed to jolting the one and only tank that inched out to meet them.

image

by A.E. Wallace Posted from WordPress for Android


Of Level 20 Dragons and Goats- (excerpt)

wpid-img-20140601-wa0000.jpg

The room was filled with a coterie of game aficionados. They all had the same look about them—arrogant and unconcerned about mainstream subjects of fancy. Their blithe demeanour seemingly imbued the air with an ever-so-slightly-unwashed pong. Within the sea of black t-shirts, backpacks and beards, there were a few females attached here and there to some of the men who came out to the opening of the new shop called Games Afoot. Somewhere I could hear the spumescent sounds of a cappuccino maker. I made my way through the crowd to get a cup of coffee and to find Doug.

Doug had sent me a text earlier in the day that simply read: It’s the store opening tonight. She won’t be there. She’s gone. Please come. We had been friends for over twenty years so I cancelled my squash game, dug out my d20 t-shirt and headed out into town without question. It had been ages since I saw him.

I met Doug one summer in 1990 when a friend of a friend invited me to play D&D. Doug was someone’s cousin and was not originally invited to play but there had been a drop out and he was keen to learn something new having just moved to town. Within five minutes of rolling out our characters, I knew this guy would one day be best-man at my wedding—or at least talking about it. Over the years we would have a share of dips and peaks. Failures and successes in our everyday lives would never hold as much weight as to in-game minutes that siphoned off our realities. Everything we ever did revolved around table top games, dice, miniatures and complicated systems until the day we were forced to find ways to fund our paper and plastic addiction. We needed jobs. Doug got one in a pub and I decided to go to the University of Edinburgh.

Doug killed off my 10th level paladin in the summer of ’96 ceremoniously when my character, Khodin, fell to a level 20 dragon the night before I left for Uni. That dragon came up widdershins on our party and smoked me like a kipper. I remember being so angry with him that night. I had plans of going out on an epic storyline that would take me through my days at Edinburgh University. Instead, I sat there eating pizza and drinking ale as I watched as the other PCs rolled and devised and played through one of the best campaigns ever run.

Doug met Linda when I was at Uni. He would send me emails waxing lyrical about how she was the one and how he could not wait until I met her. I remember thinking she looked like some kind of a grimalkin curled up in his arms in the pictures he would email. I thought she was beautiful and cursed his luck. Over the months and years, he looked more and more like she did. He began wearing his hair like some kind of boy-band escapee and he looked more and more serious in his photographs. When I came home and finally met her, she surveyed me and it was obvious that I was not what she expected. I opened up my first ever conversation to her with memoirs of happy goats I encountered on my gap year in China. Her eyes scintillated with each new random topic I brought up and I thought things went well. But I never did get an invitation back to their place again. I would see Doug when she allowed it. I also inherited a lot of his old games and miniatures when they moved into their new place.

My friendship with Doug became more of an online, social network and Xbox one. He had become a businessman. He was even into politics. He had been in the local paper more than once and always with her by his side. As an academic, I could only read about him since I was not the kind that would travel in his circle. The greatest news he ever sent me was his announcement that he was opening a games store. He asked if I would be at the grand opening and I had given him my congratulations and regrets. I said that I had prior commitments but that I would send him a bottle of champagne and a box of ale. When I got his text message, I was all at once nonplussed and elated.

I walked up to him and he beamed at me.

“Mate!” he shouted.

“Hey! Are you ok?”

“I am now, matey,” he said. “Look at all this! This is great!”

“Ah, yes. I meant about Linda. When did she leave? I mean, when I got your message—well, I thought you were upset but you seem ok.”

“Linda. Yes. I’m afraid my relationship reached that level of effloresce that we all hoped would never come. But what did I expect, really. She was not into all this. I am surprised that she stayed with me as long as she did,” he said and raised his cappuccino in the air. “This was her idea. She wanted a barista. I wanted a games parlour. She wanted a business. I wanted a community.”

“She did not like this, I take it?”

“Meeting her was simply an obliquity. I think she was that level 20 dragon I sent to kill you off because I was so upset that you were going away,” said Doug.

“You asshole. Still have not forgiven you for that.”

“I know. But I could not forgive her for not liking your goats,” said Doug. He took out his phone showed me his wallpaper. He had taken my photo and put text on it that read THE BRO GOAT. I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, man,” said Doug. “I should have stood my ground. I knew you before I met her. I have no idea what I was thinking. I’m really sorry.”

“No need.”

“We got a Magic tourney going on later. Shall we play?”

“I brought a deck.”


My Inspiration

image

Jaded

I shut the door
on the world,
just for an hour–
Pour sweet
requiescence
into a glass so
ancient amity slips away–
As the seconds clear,
drip by drip, the dreaming starts.
You fall by the wayside
amongst the flotsam in
My heart–where I will not
hear you–or fear you–
but where I can believe in you
Again.


Kerouac Rules for Spontaneous Prose #18

wpid-IMG_20130916_071324.jpg

Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea

Corporate strategies and quintessential knowledge aside, how good does it feel to take over a meeting with a flash of eye– sleight of hand—getting that mojo in the pow-bang-whaz of power point porn! You can stake hold this, baby! I’ve got the deliverable goods to make sure this party is going forward, moving forward, breaking through the clutter and pushing the envelope. Full thrust, yo, we’re doing the needful. Globalize the lot. We’ve brought a clear goal to the table and we are getting ready to chow down!

Let’s calibrate expectations and open this kimono, baby. We got an exit strategy on the runway. The high order thinking on soul engagement is the paradigm shift that will bring on that robust sea change that will allow us to run like a business…

Or we can just sit back with a cup of tea and a comic and groove on the colours.


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.

Yes. Yes, I have been much engaged elsewhere. But I am reading…and writing…and pining…and encouraging hallucinations. Do not be alarmed. It was a happy accident. For now, do muse on this that I found on another blog (Keep Rollin Sixes, you rock xx).


Kerouac Rules for Spontaneous Prose #13

wpid-2013-11-28-09-00-53_deco.jpg
Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition

Ann: Hey, Sarah. I’m going to try something. Thought i’d tell you cuz I don’t want you horrified and shit.
Sarah: uh-oh. what are you thinking?
Ann: Lemme read this to you, yo. REMOVE LITERARY, GRAMMATICAL AND SYNTACTICAL INHIBITION. That’s what I gotta do for the blog tomorrow.
Sarah: (horrified face) oh god. no.
Ann: I gotta do it.
Sarah: ok. but it is so hard for me not to try to edit it especially if it is not in my own handwriting.
Ann: I know, right? so I gotta do it.
Sarah: ok. oh god… ok.

Ann: (clears throat)”running, rolling, rambling out on that road at a viciously, vivacious speed shouting out in the vernacular voom-voom-vooming aloud…”

Sarah: oh god. oh god.

…AND SCENE.

Note: Sarah is more than just my work colleague..she is the Spock to my Kirk. The Stabilising-Editor to my Freak-Writer…also my watcher when I get far too drunk on port to know what is good for me…but I digress. Once I read this out loud to Sarah, I said, “This was fun. It actually was pretty good.” Sarah laughed then said, “Yes. actually it was pretty good. It could have gone so wrong.”


Kerouac Rules For Spontaneous Prose #8

image

“Write what you want bottemless from bottom of the mind”

Looking on him sleeping sweetly–angelic quiet in the soundless time after outrageous triumph–more like a Lost Boy than The Pan–dream breathing and serene. He is lush to look at. Power in repose–and yet he will never know what hell I wage against myself. One day he will go. But for now he is mine–and so with that I gently kiss his nose.


Critical Hit

Critical Hit

“Crit to the heart. Life shoots out and you are toast, yo! aka Marriage”

“Oh hush. It’s not all doom and gloom. You got happy people out there. Just chill.”

“Yeah, there are happy people out there. Namely the one that is with my now-ex-husband. Nevermind. Pass the absinthe.”

“Mate…you ARE on absinthe.”

“Oh shit. So YOU are not real, little dude?”

“Who are you calling “little”?

“YOU, you hobbit wanna be…”

“Are YOU really saying this? Or are you in character?”

“Oooops. sorry. Make your saving throw.”

“Dude. This is LIFE. There IS no saving throw…”

“Buggar.”