There is a time for poetry: words that wail of lost futures, pasts of fortune, pity and plight. There is even time for wonder, in the dawn, and in the night. But here, unbeknownst among those who falter and soar, is the answer. Sadly, even fortitude cannot avail perfection here. There is no soul in the hurry, or the serious, to lambaste the pace of wonder.
It is a sad thing, that we rail against commonality of purpose.
After many years of presence on the web, I believe it’s time to return to my roots. For a few years, there was a kind old couple that used to babysit me who donated a nickname I haven’t used in a while: bones. It probably doesn’t take a lot of imagination to determine the source of that alias, but I admit it lends a certain aspect of nostalgia to my otherwise futuristic persona.
Not much to say here as of yet. I will be importing my LJ archives back into this system over the next week or so. New entries will of course, go here.
There seems to be a new DDR Pad on the market.Looks like it has some shiney metal corners, actual arcade sensors, and a welded steel frame.Ogg want!
“Who is it?““You. For that is all it can be.““Surely not! Were I to speak so candidly to myself, I would be judged insane, and rightly so!““But I am indeed you. No malicious little troglodyte, I. Else I had a body of my own, I would dash it on the rocks.““What rocks? I see no splashing shore, no mountain ranges or precarious cliffs leading to the demise you wish to inflict upon ourselves.
