The Edge of the Internet

(No I haven't run this through a spell checker)

Hey its not high art, its not going to make me reexamine my life or want to run out and do something for the betterment of my freinds and family, its just a silly anime, but what a fun anime to watch. Thanks to my house having no cable, i can no longer be pulled in to the vast wasteland of late night programing for the american idiot that used to sooth and lull me to sleep what now seems a life time ago, so instead i find myself searching DVD racks looking for shows to keep my attention. I would have expected me to be that last person to get grabed by episodic television, but after a plethera of movies, I longed for something with a longer story and time enough to muck about with its characters.

So off I go into the world of anime. Why here, because I'm not going to buy the crap that the TV market wants me to buy. I watched the first three seasons of Alies because they were free to borrow, and now feel robbed of time, I continued watching them out of bordom and like all grisly car wreaks you can't help but look around for a severed head

The Japsnesse have a wonderful way of telling a story, long in its journy to the final point, a round about character building style that's willing to let you wallow in the acting, voice acting in this case with pretty pictures to help you along. You don't find the fantastical in live action anymore, and if you do its Matrix retread, or Tolkin's brain fart ideas. Garbage that's been recycled so much that I can't help but feel the need to hunt down TV producers to rip heads off and projectile vomit into the stump holes.

Not that I'm going to do that mind you, I just feel the need

Nor for that matter is anime prone free of doing the same things, so when i find a tiny little story based off of a god in directions work drawn pretty, voiced surprisingly fun and with a mature sence to the story telling you know i just have to share.

Except with Derek, Derek is a poopy head for not watching when I said so. No anime goodness for you.

Wow my life must be really boring if I'm writting posts about anime.

http://www.samurai-7.com/index.html

Posted by Silenzio at 7:31 PM | Permalink

Honestly You make my every waking moment like this and I will join the SCA, seriously, no joke. Let me just wander around face planting into boobs, mumble something pithy and then move on, maybe have a smoke, then more boobs.

Yes that would work for me.

Posted by Silenzio at 12:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Hello all,

I had the weirdest day today. I woke up late and seemed to have left my head in bed, I muddled through my day completly lost enjoying the feeling of new, with none of my usual clockworks worrling in my back brain some how everything seemed so fresh. I only smoked four smokes from waking to the end of work. One was in celebration. Today I recived a raise. It's not much mind you, merely an increase from penuts to cashews, definetly not maccadamins (sp), but it will do.

I rather like the smell of rain now, this telling me that we've had too much and its now gaining new perceptions to me. I'd like some sun please, a whole day of it, preferably saturday because barring complications Jhayne and I are going to walk some of the Seawall. I may have to buy some Mary Poppins apparel if the sun dosn't shine.

There are too many clever people in our social groups, why have one of you not yet created a weather machine?

Yes there is no pretty picture with this I could not find one I liked.

I'm thinking that I might make use of some CD blanks I have. Working in an office supply and sationary wearhouse has its advantages, every once and a while a vulture skid will be assembled of cast off stuff, binders, boxes of pens, file folders, silly things that you never think about. there are some good things as well, like blank CD's. I have 20 of them, they're not huge of space, but that's no never mind. Since I'm an internet zombie ever looking for a connection, i can't down load music any more. But that's not to say I don't want some new tunes. Would anyone like a blank CD, I will give you two, one is your do as you will with it, the other i would liked returned with some music on it. I hope it's not to much to ask for.

Posted by Silenzio at 10:09 PM | Permalink

Hello to everyone,

For those of you who like to read how people’s lives are going my life has not changed in any drastic way. It has smoothly glided along in the comfortable rut that I have created for myself. I sometimes in fleeting moments usually while waiting for a bus wonder if my life is dull, that perhaps some things are missing from it, then I realize that is not the case.

Life is rather good, I am pleased, I think I’ll keep it.

The Second Underworld came out. I was apprehensive because although I liked the first one I didn’t fall in love with it. so I wasn’t expecting much from the sequel. Damn it’s sometimes nice to go to the theatre with no expectations. Look the film wasn’t an Oscar contender but it did do the job well. It was very pretty to look at and didn’t try to retell the first film over again which is a problem for most sequels. This was very much the next chapter in an ongoing story. The directing and storytelling was much better in this film then the other. I’ll go as far as use the word subtle to describe some of it.

The visuals from the second battle of Gondor where they take down William the White Wolf and let Bill Nighly (SP) crew up some more scenery to Cain in the form of Derek Jacoby monitoring the entire world with apparently four computers, a boat and well tuned ear were great. Craven’s dastardly ways had to end just so. I like the fact that they took the time to bring some of the other actors back to do cameos it made for a nice moment when I saw Lucian and realized he was standing in a set made for the second film. Sure it might have been CGI but who cares.

Selina…. Umm… the sex scene, umm… was he fucking her navel, because I’ve done that position, we all have it’s the training wheels for better stuff later, and I’m sure he was fucking her navel. Damn shame we didn’t get a boob shot. Moving on.

Yes some of the plot (cough, cough, all of it, cough) was predictable, but at least they tried. Yes I do realize that after Selina slurps down Corvinus the rest of the scrip simply read shot everything with big guns and then lop off heads, but it’s a pop corn shoot’um up movie I was expecting that.

Three cheers to the CGI crew that did the blendering of uber Vampire Marcus, he went splat and oozed off the catwalk oh so pretty.

Right that’s it I’m going to go see the movie again.

Best movie I’ve seen so far and I’m a sucker for silly romantic comedies set in period costumes like Cassanova. No I won’t explain that.

Posted by Silenzio at 8:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Here I sit at another Tim Horton’s, pen in hand, a blank page spread before me. My coffee sits cooling, waiting for the first sip. Schrödinger's Cat taunting me in the corner of my eye, will it be a good cup or a bad cup.

I’m compiling a list of things to do over the weekend, shave as always at the top of the list. Writing projects, gamming efforts. What will I do with my Battletech campaign? Do I have time to go book buying? Is there a social event I’ve missed? On and on my list goes. Zazen is the act of sitting still and letting the world simply be. Exist in the moment, the future will happen, there is nothing you can do to stop it. The past is untouchable, you can remember it, but not relive it.

I would like to go travelling, to stand up, walk out the door and go somewhere I’ve never been, or at least do something I’ve never done. I keep promising myself to walk the length of the intire seawall, a full pack of cigarettes, my zippo, a pen, notebook and time. Let myself surrender to the moment of it.

I would like to wake refresed with the warm feel of a body beside me. I would stretch and yawn, smile then wait for the other to wake. We would go to breakfast. I would let myself be vulnerable, let chinks form in my armour.

I would like to hug all my friends for as long as they want then 30 seconds more for me.

Then my coffee cup empties and my watch says its time. I pack my things away to return to work.

My friends seem happier, they have school and the belief in future plans, I have work.

Posted by Silenzio at 1:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

A little while ago, I wrote this in a flurry as I waited for some people to arrive for coffee. I can never tell if anything I write is worth reading, I being my harshest critic after all. Don’t you just love that cliché? Derek has read it in its first draft form, one of the few people to read something hand written by me. He wasn’t enthusiastic, but lacking anything else to post and wanting to get back into the habits of both writing and posting I place it here for you all to render down into the filth that it is.

No, I don’t know if it’s the start of something else to tinker at writing.

I’m going to die pathetically.

Most heroes die that way, the storybooks just don’t tell you. You don’t read about the fact that the knight in shinning armour shit himself as the dragon’s fire licked his skin. You don’t hear about prince charming dying in a hospital bed from complications brought on from syphilis. You have to watch out for those painted ladies from the kingdom over. Heroes die every night in children’s books; they go out in dramatic, glorious deaths saving the day at the cost of their lives. Large print words pay head to valour, determination, courage, and honour, concepts to hold up and pronounce as good. Nothing is written about soggy pee stained soaks, flashes of regret, and horrid screams for mercy or mothers. Heroes die just like everyone else, wishing that they’d run for the hills when they had the chance. I’m going to die pathetically; I know it because I’m a hero. It’s what we do.

Oh sure I don’t look a hero at the moment. It’s hard to keep your armour shiny when your under a wharf shin deep in polluted surf, bare knuckle bashing a twig thin pill dealer’s face into a Jackson Pollack, but I can assure you I’ve got good reasons. A week ago two friends of mine were aching for a little fun, just starving for it. So a little public washroom hustling followed by a cheap jin and Starbucks gargle they were off to the races. It’s a gut wrenching shame their horses pulled up lame. Another friend with the M.E.’s office said they never made it to the finish line. My friend’s remain in baggies in mustard jars at the back of my closet now. I started working the phones, flashing photos and cash, until word crawled back. A little bird twittering over crumbs and scotch at the local. It seemed my seaside punching bag had taken their money. Honour demands that the hero avenges the dead.

“That’s enough Auggy, you keep hit’en him that rough and he’ll not be able to speak.” Trustful Richard, my squire and confidant had the right of it, but my blood was up and I wanted to see red.

“Screw you Dick.” Two more, thick knuckle blows.

“That’s a sad pun even at the best of times. Ease off or you’ll kill him. We need to know where the pills came from. Damn it.” He was right, he usually was. No one ever said the hero had to be the smartest character in the story. I held my last punch and turned the dealer to the open water of the harbour.

“You’re going to tell me what I want to know or I fill your stomach full of rocks and swim you out to sea. You’ll scream blood bubbles to the bottom.” Typically the villain in the story played it stoic, I started to drag him further out.

“Auggy, Auggy. Let the man catch some of the breath you smashed out of him. He needs a moment to calm himself.” Richard splashed to the dealer’s side. Like a scared kid to his mommy, the dealer clutched my squire, clinging there cowering from me. Richard went so far as to pat his shoulder and coo a few there, theres. I turned to spit and was blood from my knuckles; the sea salt stung one I’d split. “Don’t worry, um… you.” Richard looked at me puzzled. I shrugged and shock my head. Jesus we hadn’t even learned his real name yet, just a street nick, who in the world doesn’t call themselves Blade these nights? Richard soldiered on. “You just tell us who supplied you the stuff and we’ll let you go. We’ll even call the cops and have them send an ambulance. You can eat all the Jell-O you want on the taxpayer’s bill. That will be fun, won’t it?” Still clutching him the dealer burped up blood and bile. He was wide-eyed and shacking.

“They’ll kill me.” It didn’t sound that precise through split lips and bent teeth, but we do need to move the story along so I’m paraphrasing busted face dealer garble.

“Naa they won’t.” Richard shook his head, smiling friendliness and assurance. I stood still while my feet froze in the water. “How can the kill you when they don’t know how we got the information. You’re clean, no word on the streets from us. I’ll keep you safe.” Hell Richard even patted his head. “You tell me, or he’ll have to hit you some more.” I wore my best scowl while clenching fists. The guy whimpered and clung to Richard tighter.

“It was the Louis brothers. They sold it cheap, looking for a market.” Richard let him collapse into the filth and water. We had new names and a step up the ladder. It’s been a good nights work. I nodded to Richard while wading back to the bank. A gasp of surprise, mighty thrashing, followed by rippling silence echoed behind me. Richard was a good Squire. He knew like I did that the storybooks didn’t have chapters written in them about the hero dealing with nameless minions. We killed the bosses and big bads, not the henchmen. I can’t be written doing that I’m a hero.

I’m going to die pathetically.

Posted by Silenzio at 12:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I heard the strangest phrase on the bus ride home. Two people were talking in the back, I was dozing after a long slog, when “Spiritual Warfare” hits my ears. The first thing that popped into my head was masses of religious leaders in full regalia, big hats, flowing robes, a riot of colour, the works, from all over the world running at each other over a muddy grassy field and then bonking each other over the head with massive cartoon caricatures of their deities, or shiving each other prison like with holy symbols, there was also the occasional garrotting with some rosary beads. All done in the style Monty Python’s battle of Trafalgar with the little old ladies walloping each other with their purses in a melee while dressed in their Sunday finest.

This has nothing to do with anything I wanted to Blog about but there you have it.

Posted by Silenzio at 12:40 AM | Permalink

“Dance for me with all your desires. Dance for me to make an old soul stir, a wounded heart skip to a happier beat.”

He leaned back onto red velvet and oak, the scent of the theatre box’s age a comfortable reminder of days gone by.

“Dance for me, twist, twirl, leap and bound. Do pirouettes, and little things with butterfly hands that make me want to fly.”

A slight smile split the corner of a craggy face, this was joy, a moment reaching for bliss. Callused, scarred hands that had seen strife and war, held his children and theirs with tenderness, crushed a man’s windpipe, stroked lovers to ecstasy gripped tight his knees so he could lean forward for a better view.

“Dance, dance away my years. Dance me to a youth without ruined eyes, failing hearing, aches, pains, and a constant need to pee. Dance with supple grace. You are air I am a rock. Make me wish it was not so.”

The stage became his world. His vision narrowed, to flit about absorbing detail after detail, a step there, a gesture here, the sway of a hip, the roll of a shoulder. Forms and styles blending into a whole, it was unique yet reminiscent. A fluttering feeling flitted about within him. Lightness grew, weights of thought and notions cascaded from his mind. There was only the dance.

“Dance away my regrets, my failures.”

The moment came, it was sublime. There it was a release. It was perfect, the moment they had been waiting for. The ultimate act of theatre watching, they were not just audience they were emotionally there on stage as much a part of the spectacle as witness. He could not help but smile, a giggle welled in his throat. He turned to his lover. Now was bliss.

But, Waldorf had already taken the poison, gulped it down in rush, a giddy smile still on his face as the light behind his eyes faded.

Steadler slumped. He’d been too slow, to enthralled, their pact to die upon seeing one pure true moment… gone.

With trembling hands, spotted with tears, he retrieved the theatre’s program.

“Let’s see what the frog has for us next.”

Posted by Silenzio at 12:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Hello all,

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted here. A few days ago when I mentioned that I was going to spend some time today writing a new entry both Robert and Derek expressed shocked disbelief that I was capable of doing such. It’s been too long, could not have been hammered home more concisely then by their reaction.

The end of a year has come and gone. New beginnings present themselves and a few old odd bits of business have been laid to rest. Looking back over the year I must smile, overall it has been a good year. I feel in love and out, twice. I moved forward in a few projects and don’t feel the weight of failure for not achieving a few goals. I can move forward into 2006 with my head high.

As most know I’ve finally moved north of the river, a goal long sought. I’m pleased with the house I live in and respect my housemates for their differences. It is a delight to be sheltered in a more urban environment. Truly, I am a product of our modern age, more comfortable in a place of concrete and ashfault then wood and grass. Knowing there is a local coffee shop within a ten-minute walk is pleasing.

Some of my friendships have strengthened in ways I thought they wouldn’t, and yes I realize that a few have wavered. Perhaps I hold a few regrets from last year.

Looking forward this will be a good year if the beginning was an indication.

Life for once isn’t kicking me in the teeth.

I must smile.

Posted by Silenzio at 12:03 AM | Permalink