On the one hand I understand the sentiment, FFXIAH is like middle east peace talks raging around and around the same themes like a broken record that never gets to the next song on the album. And as much as you liked the song when you first heard it, it's getting really old, really fast and you want to bump into the record player and make it jump past the skippy bits.
On the other hand
I don't have any expectation that anything will ever change for the better. Call it pessimism brought on by old age and bitter resentment if you will, but I just don't see it happening.
And on the third hand I had surgically attached, part of the problem is what this site is, what it has become and what it represents, the short version is this..
This site is our tether to a part of our lives we are all having trouble letting go of and
it can't go anywhere because it's anchored in the airship port of sandoria with several auxiliary cables connected to the auction house.
But we all will let go eventually, some sooner than others, but we all will eventually move on to whatever the next phase of our lives is. It's inevitable like death and taxes....
And you can be sad about it if you want. But I choose to look at life like the Tralfamadorians and focus not on the death of an old friend but the time we spent together before that end.
I will miss you all. I will miss everyone, even starr and elanabelle and kingnoobie because they were there then. Friend or foe we battled on the eternal plains of glory at the base of a the mountain of lost hope during the neverending summer of our fading youth....
tell her Dylan!!!
Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Let us come to grips with some realities.
I'm an ***. Perhaps mildly amusing in small doses, but an *** none the less. And I get old, I wear on people. I wear out my welcome.
My stories get boring and predictable. Everyone dies... everyone is swept away in raging torrent of horror and a tsunami of despair.
And I know people are sitting there reading them and thinking
sweet jebus can't this guy tell one *** story that doesn't end with someone dying!? and the answer is NO. Look, The story isn't over until someone dies, it's still going on. What good is a story without any ending?
So to me there isn't any point in telling only the first half of it because it leads the reader to wonder what happened next. So eventually, inevitably you will grow tired of reading about
"*** X and his never ending war against humanity in the bleak american landscape of the seventies and eighties" because even if it was the best book in the world eventually you would get sick of reading it and put it down and go buy another book.
And that doesn't hurt my feelings at all. ***, I get tired of me sometimes. But for me there is no escape. For all for you there is.
There is an escape. You just type anything else but FFXIAH between the 3w's. and the .com and join meshi and uri and row and spency on the other side of whatever exists beyond our borders.
But NI will never change!!! And it will always change. Even now the winds and rain wear their way through our walls as we clutch our weapons and wonder how much long can we hold the line...
Perhaps a little bit longer...
Or is fate calling you on... and this is all the time we will ever have together Hoppy, the day will come when we will clasp arms for the last time and crash flagons together and take our last chugs of mead... when that day comes, then I will say.../heavy hand on shoulder
it's been a real slice Hoppy. go easy bro...
One day, too soon for some, far too long for others, I too... will take that long walk... out into the cursed earth, to the lands beyond NI... <desert wind sound>
/snaps out of it
or did you mean some kind of water stagnation in your basement or something? Don't mix bleach and ammonia together, that's bad...