Die and be free of pain or live and fight your sorrow!

eleven pages

Sat, 06 Sep 2008 19:59:14 GMT

The food here is still terrible.

The people-watching, still significantly better.

This time, however, I appeared underground, and I will say that the welcoming committee was a cut above the last one.

Ten Pages

Fri, 11 Jul 2008 00:09:15 GMT

Yesterday was interesting, and perhaps a reminder to us all.

When small creatures appear in large quantities, it is usually a sign of one of two things. A mother or a predator. Either situation is less than lucky for soft little things like humans.

I'm considering starting a community vegetable garden. It would be worthwhile to see how many foreign kinds of vegetables we can gather to grow, although I'm sure food allergies might be a problem in some cases. Still, it's never too late to eat something new.

I have a time-consuming job. I can't do it on my own.

Nine Pages

Fri, 04 Jul 2008 07:28:04 GMT

I have a respectable job with a young girl by the name of Ivy. I'll be moving, but I don't suspect any mail anyway for which to forewarn of a change of address.

I also have a shoopuf today. It brings to mind a story.

A decade ago, a friend of mine attacked a gentle shoopuf. Drunken, startled, he lashed out at the animal. Not only was he injured in turn himself, but he embarrassed the man he worked for and owed a great deal of money to the owner of the poor beast. The friend never drank again, for as long as he lived.

Let it be a lesson to any heroes thinking of striking at dragons that, upon a second look, were only boulders all along.

I think I'll toast for two tonight.

Eight Pages

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 02:08:46 GMT

Rodents.

This 'curse' is a cautionary tale, like all the others. Might makes right, or is it that there's power in numbers? The entirety of the world is waging war against us at all times, whether not we recognize the threat-- the message?

Still, even if the mouse fancies himself a revolutionary, the cat still licks his whiskers in the end.

A matter of perspective, I suppose.

Seven Pages

Fri, 20 Jun 2008 12:47:50 GMT

Fear.

What is the point of it, I sometimes wonder. It comes of two types-- the fear of that which we can't comprehend, and the fear of that which we do. The fear of the unknown and the fear of the inevitable.

If we allow it to overcome us, it cripples the mind and weakens the body. Therefore, we have only two choices, whether we face the unknown or the inevitable. Avoid fear, or confront it. Avoid it and live comfortably, but what will happen if you confront it? Be curious.

Will it change anything?

More importantly, are you tired of me yet?

Six Pages

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 08:15:44 GMT

Another fairly sophist line of questioning for you all.

How do you not exist but live?

Five Pages

Sat, 31 May 2008 06:44:05 GMT

A memento mori of sorts. Is it?

Grim.

Tragic.

Preferably livable, if this is what you desire under the circumstances.

I can heal, quickly and efficiently. For as long as it lasts, for as long as it works. You will owe me nothing.

Four Pages

Mon, 26 May 2008 23:29:35 GMT

A tonberry. Farcical, but fitting.

How it stares.

I find it hard to believe that there is much reality to this situation. My first curse. Shall I record it to my memory for posterity?

More importantly: I consider work in the 'orphanage' which curiously has no name. Who can offer me information or help?

Three Pages

Mon, 26 May 2008 00:00:27 GMT

[Voice Post]

It's interesting, the curses that we have had this recent month that I have been in this city. Interesting, if perhaps not pleasant for our respective egos, especially those of us who are young. Those of us who have had so few roles in our lives to begin with.

The theatre changes by the act.

It is important to note, if it makes you (the listener) feel better about your sad circumstances, that it is the spectator, and not the actor, which finds his or her own motivations and behaviors so frequently mirrored in the actor's.

A job. I need one. It is a lesson I've learned in my own previous roles more than once, but civilized man tires quickly of bush meat.

Two Pages

Sat, 03 May 2008 05:08:01 GMT

[Voice Post]

To those who have offered me help in the recent days, I thank you. Your help has kept my healthy. I'm old enough to not deny charity for the sake of pride.

I've been struck by the inconveniencing truth that here, even the dead need to sleep, to eat, to worry about the basics of living again. Or is even this another performance at life, not a true death? The budget for the production is more clearly impressive.

I'm going to need money. A job. I suppose that you could say that I don't do desk jobs, but if that is all that is available, then so be it. We discomfort our sensibilities or we starve, in some cases.

This is one of them.

[ooc: all dictated until otherwise stated ♥]

One Page

Thu, 01 May 2008 07:01:13 GMT

[Voice Post]

A vast island. How familiar, and yet, so foreign.

This isn't Zanarkand.

But then, it wouldn't be, would it? And here I thought the afterlife was supposed to be restful.

[deep, sardonic chuckling, and the sound of a sea breeze]

This communicator was in my pocket. I've lived long enough to know what things like that mean.

Your new mouse is irritated, powerful cats. He doesn't like to be toyed with.