Music = Awesome

Pandora

The most brilliant internet radio I've seen. It's from the Music Genome Project, so recommendations aren't statistical, they're based on musical properties of the songs and artists. You end up getting a lot of songs that are what you liked in the artist you based the station on...I recommend everyone trying it. It is free, after all (You can subscribe to get rid of the visual ads, but I don't think it's a big deal).

Story of my fuckin' life.

I'm not going to complain about things anymore.

Especially when other people do it for me!

Questionable Content from today

Note Faye in the last two panels or so. Note title. Murmur philosophically.
And yes, it's hyperbole to make direct comparison, that's not the point.

Anyone who has ever used the phrase "knowledge is power"...

is obviously scared shitless by the internet.

A little ways back, I used Technorati to trace to a blog that I, in theory, was not supposed to find. Me specifically, even. Now, it wasn't even really a big deal, and it gave me a chance to make amends with someone (again), so all in all, the public domain is not a terrible thing. People don't tend to say stupid things that much online anyway, and if they do, they're much easier to find. Anyone who has ever been on a forum will tell you this.
So, this time, I did no finding, I just had it found by someone else...it happens, my curiosity was piqued, so I checked back.

Essentially, I found half an answer. But half is enough, really.

I'm not going to go into anymore detail, but it satisfies me to know that without any major programming experience, lots of information can be found on the internet.

That being said, my next step has little to do with any information I have immediately available, but that's my own damn fault.

Yes, yes...I don't know when the other half of my gaming group is returning to school. It is terribly bothersome.

In the meanwhile, I can ask the people who are here about some ideas as to what they're looking for...I don't have writer's block right now, I just don't know which lead to follow for the group right now.

If anyone has a crazy idea too good to pass up, let me know. Just something to get the juices flowing.

Analysis

Okay, looking at the previous post with more sleep and more sanity, I have decided to analyze the writing a bit, in order to see exactly how I wrote that. If you've been reading this blog at all and seen my other writing, you'll know this one was different.
1. Nobody in this story is based on a real person, at all. The name Trey I used because it was monosyllabic, which fitted the meter I was looking for. No hard feelings, Trey.
2. Yeah, so I dropped a few punk-y bits, like the fact that it was set in Version City. That was for me more than the reader, and reinforced the meaning of the Alley, and the meaning of the events that transpired.
3. With the writing of 2, I figured out the theme. The theme of the story is internal control versus external chaos. The conclusion is clear, stating that you cannot find internal control unless you can remove yourself from the chaos around you.
4. Yes, there is a bit of an event chain that's inspired from something that happened to me (inspired by, it did not happen in anything that has the foggiest resemblance to the story), but it serves the purpose of showing that the struggle for centrism and self-understanding are clouded by both internal and external chaos.

So there you go. Apparently, I'm still trying to be centered, as that struggle is what came out in these words last night.

If you think I'm missing something, or would like to add a bit to this, feel free to comment.

New Fiction

I wrote this all tonight. So, do I need a shrink?

I headed to the alley that night. The alley was a place for night, where the harsh lamplight bounced off the angular maze of loading docks, warehouse walls, and concrete obstructions of less distinct purpose. It was a quiet place in the city, hard to get to for most. I don’t know why it was any easier for me, but it gave me a little spot of Version City, the place that everyone claimed but no one owned. I headed out, alone but the buzz of fluorescent streetlights, and the echo of gunshots and sirens in the far distance. When I’m alone, my mind works right, and when I’m right, I can write.

Words flowed from my hand like blood, my pen a needle drawing the mental anguish from my tired veins. It was like this more often than not these days. Gone were the times when a daily journal entry was about an interesting car on the road, or that one time when I actually saw a bird. All I managed to write about was her.

So she was one chick who I met at this guy’s bash earlier in the year, and we kind of hit it off, I kind of came inside her, and now I kind of think I’m in love. But if it were as easy as that, then the pain wouldn’t need to be drawn via pen, now would it? I had no idea who she was, other than a friend of a friend at the time, but about four days after that whole affair, she disappears. But tomorrow it gets interesting, because tomorrow, by friend of a friend’s word, she returns.

It had been about three weeks, and thinking about the whole affair had made my stomach restless and sleep hard to come by. This was the fourteenth night in these three weeks where I had wandered out to my alley to pour out my thoughts, sharpen my knife, and return home a little more at peace than before, only to have the next day fuck it up again. Stuck in a dead-end job in this dead-end city, my day-to-day had blurred into one big hallucinogenic streak, where nothing really began, nor did it end. There were hits, moments of clarity in the alley, brief and blissful inebriation at weekend bashes, and then that one moment, the bit of love that refused to leave, staining my mind just as filthy as I had left the couch that night. So that’s what mental clarity is: when you see all the little stains left on your psyche.

I returned to my excuse for an apartment at about four, falling into about six hours of fretful Friday night sleep. Awaking was difficult, though the absence of hangover made it at least bearable to drag myself into the shower. I was going to head down to the place around four, see what was up, and most likely thrash around later, either in the bad way or in the good way. I had too little patience with my own memory to make a bet on which would more likely happen. Had at least a few hours to wait around, though. That was never good on my part. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, as they say…and an idle mind makes for a good self-destructive time, at the very least. I tried scrawling a bit of legibility into a notebook, but the results were embarrassing. After a few hours of staring at the ceiling, and trying to think of something other than who I was about to see, I left early, hoping to take enough detours to not seem entirely pathetic.

It didn’t entirely work. I think it was around two, way earlier than any bash that was supposed to go on. I knocked softly, and the door was answered by my bro, Trey. He was not in his right mind, exactly. He stumbled back to the couch, grinning stupidly and tripping over dust mites on his way there. It was quietly revolting, and I wanted to turn face right then, forget what people looked like with a little day light smacked onto their faces. But then I saw her. It was her, no doubt, but it was not her. She had sunken onto a skeleton frame, retracted into a shadow of what I thought a person was. As the midday light appraised her every angle, it was clear what I had not seen. Ugliness is inherent, but in desperate times, one will forget it. I muttered to myself, thinking about what I was on that night, what had disappeared in the moonlight and bourbon haze. She looked up, and sneered.

“Fuck you.” I gave Trey a sympathetic look, and headed out the door. As I hit the outdoors, the nausea hit me just as hard. I got back to my feet, and looked around the dirty sidestreet. Trey’s motorcycle was left unlocked by his front door. I shrugged, found the key inside the door, and headed back. He was too plastered to notice anyway. I mounted the bike, starting it up with a turn and a rub. The engine moan made me smile, and I headed out to an open street. As I got further from the city, the wind woke me up fully, made me feel alive. The road led out through the tall grass, and I sped down as fast as I could. I was leaving Version City. I had to do something for my self now. No time like the present.

It was interesting. Not sure where it came from, nor where it goes. But hey. Why not, right?

Spare me

OK. The moment you've all been waiting for.
I'm going to go back to the topics this blog was intended for: Writing and Role-Playing.
In returning to school, I've gotten the definite vibe that things which I had tried to make work will, as usual, not work. People can be fickle, and stuff can happen.
But you know what? This will continue to happen, and me complaining about it will do nothing. So I'm going back to writing about things that interest me, because frankly, I'd like to run about 3 more games than I have time for this year, with all the ideas I have.

I have at least one story I'd like to continue on, if not finish, and a whole bunch of other things as well.

I will leave my neurotic stage behind with this:
Nothing works out the way you want it to, but if you roll with it and make the best of the situation, the outcome will be better than you could have imagined. That goes equally for real life, writing, and running role-playing games. Take it into mind, because it is useful.

One more thing.
I have not decided what setting, or even what system I'm going to use this year. I have, however, decided this: I would like my players to create new characters. Due to some issues with people returning (or not) this year, I'm going to say we may as well start from the top. The thing that makes a group special is the dynamic, and once that dynamic is disrupted, even slightly, the reasoning behind keeping parts of it makes less sense to me. Plus, I love the novelty of new characters, and I think that we could create a very interesting group if we planned out what the campaign is going to look like beforehand, instead of doing the mishmash situation.
To elaborate: I am going to construct a party with my players, rather than have them just meet at the beginning of the game. My hope is to create a party backstory, rather than a bunch of individual backstories, and have everyone fit in somewhere. So, players, if you're reading this, comment with some ideas, or yell at me as to why this is a horrible idea. Also, if you could (other readers, feel free to contribute your opinions on this part too), give me an idea which one of these you'd rather play:

GURPS:
Space Opera setting
Cyberpunk setting (one we played in last year)
Steampunk/Fantasy setting
Cyberpunk 2020 (Tri-City Setting, slight expansion of the core book's Night City setting)
D&D (had to ask)
Other (Shadowrun, White Wolf, Paranoia...willing to try any, if someone can get me books)

For those in the know...

My address this year will be:

Aaron Marks
1091 Morewood Ave.
Pittsburgh, PA. 15213

Anything you send there will get to me, I promise. And please don't send things to my SMC, I will never check it.

Pittsburgh, I have returned

Yup, I'm back.
My stuff is still in chaos, but I'm almost set up completely. Now, just to rock out. And maybe buy some textbooks or something.

For you people not here yet, here's a teaser (you guys know who you are):
Headhunter - Front 242
I want those sunglasses.

T-minus...

So, I'm in a hotel room in bumfuck-nowhere, Pennsylvania (New Columbia? yeah...). But this means I'm in Pittsburgh at CMU, tomorrow. Tomorrow.
This is pretty exciting, at least in my opinion. I mean, seriously...

I wrote way back in May that I was worried I'd just want to get back to school, and worried about floating through summer. I guess in that respect, Becket was a blessing. It always is, somehow. I think though, after this year, the magic has, for the most part, dissolved. I suppose 19 is an appropriate age for that to occur...but still...that's 6 summers. Quite a little chunk of time there.
There was a lot left on some hiatus at the end of last year...things that need to be resolved.

I still have a definite place to say I have no idea what the hell is going on. Hooray.

But tomorrow, that may indeed change. Or, if not tomorrow, at least by the time classes start.

Welcome to sophomore year. Counseling is to your left. The 20th story patio, on the right. Straight ahead, who the hell knows. Huzzah.

Quick Pre-Pittsburgh Update

So, I'm home. Remembering the joys of our plumbing as I'm sitting here in a towel, awaiting the return of hot water. Woo.
Camp made my summer, but I'm glad to be home. For one, it means I'll be on my way back to school very, very soon. But for two, it means I'm not spending as much money anymore, which is very good, because the amount I spent on gas/oil/fuel injector cleaner was just too much. I'll hopefully get a job at school, and if not, I'll participate in research studies. That should get at least a little bit of bank account enhancement.
I recovered a bunch of my old notes from my Cyberpunk campaign senior year...they are really good, I must say. That campaign was well-planned, and very character focused. I should snag my old notebook from my brother, see if I can't find any of my handwritten stuff. I'm thinking of running 2020 at school, so they may come in handy.
It is good to be home. As much as I can see the humor in it, there is a certain disruption when campers are getting quiet to get ready for bed, and one busts out with
"MY PILLOW IS A FUCKING GRENADE!"
Not my cabin, one of the two week cabins...youngest campers there. Think about that for a second.

Oh well. Back in Pittsburgh on Friday, people. Let's party.