I’m getting fat. Yes, me. I understand you are gawking at the screen, cursing at my already low weight and considering a phone call to an anorexic hotline, but stay with me, here. Since moving to Chicago, I fell off my wagon, and instead of being 138 pounds at 8% bodyfat, I’m somewhere around 150 with likely fifteen percent. This proves whatever I’m eating is overwhelming my metabolism, and while I will never tip the scales at 200, it’s obvious my current diet is unhealthy. Given I was gifted with a supposedly above-average intellect, maybe I should utilize it for a change.

ACEN 2007 is now over, and, like a filthy abandoned hovel teetering menacingly over an orphanage, dripping loose planks bearing tetanus-encrusted nails, its parched flammable timber threatens the dreams and lives of innocent whelps by merely existing. Were ACEN only that terrible, a punished but breathing sliver of hope–of walking again, or regaining vision from sundered and scorched eyes–would ripple through the legions of anime fans which attended. But, alas…

I am legion.

I am the one that is forgot, the one in the road that you know not. The man that will affect your life, though the impact is hidden through time and tithe. You’ll move on, just as you must, and the veils will fall again to dust. That is the mythology, that is the timing; that is the truth. The faces fade, the voices mesh into the cacophony, and in that wild din, inseparable from legion, I am.

Well, I’ve finally gone and joined Technorati, only about three years too late. Of course, we’ll see if it does anything other than prove just how unpopular I really am. ;)

Until Tomorrow

And so, the die is cast. For Chapter seven of Rabbit Rue has begun. Don’t bother clicking the previous link, that chapter doesn’t exist until May 11th, while today is April still.

I just pounded out five pages while drinking Whisky and watching episodes of Firefly I acquired from Target. I couldn’t help it, and I somehow wish I could stop, stop observing, eliminate my endlessly infinite capacity for over-analysis, and simply describe my story. But I can’t, and seriously, I hope nobody would ask such a thing. I’d cease, if I could. But I’m now caught inextricably within a web beyond comprehension, a world both wrought by my fevered mind, and beyond any precedence I could generate.