Idle minds are the Devil's playground

It was a beautiful day today in Halifax. Well, if you can ignore the biting wind, that is. Given that it is Sunday, and that Halifax is rather quiet on Sundays, I decided to take a walk along the harbourfront. That's not really the topic of this post though, so I won't dwell on it too much. Suffice it to say that walking in such close proximity to the ocean made me remember something I saw on an old documentary once: the ocean always wins.

So true. I identify more with fire than with water, but it's very humbling standing next to a body of water that literally could not be stopped if it ever decided to rise up. Earth gets eroded, fire gets quenched, air gets dissolved. Buildings, vehicles, people, animals get swept away and/or drowned. Metal gets rusted. Even other destructive forces like volcanoes are stopped cold by the sea. With the north wind ruffling my too-long hair and my hands tucked into my pockets, I took several lungfuls of sea air (note that we don't say air sea...) and felt very calm and serene. I continued walking, camera around my neck like a dutiful tourist, snap-happy and feeling very at one.

I don't know how far I walked, but I ended up in a Starbucks. Yes I know, big shock. One venti Italian blend in hand, I sat in one of the seats overlooking the junction of Barrington and Brunswick and watched Halifax go by, sun streaming in onto my face. Thoughts came flooding into my head; not the normal day-to-day worries but deeper, more extract thoughts. Thoughts of my son and what I can do to be a better father. Thoughts of her. Write, write, write! Make a difference. How? What can you do with your skills to make a difference? Where am I going? How do I get there? Why do I think in questions?

Some people are able to blank their minds when they are content. They think of nothing, just absorbing and enjoying. I envy that. I can meditate and do it, but I can't remember the last time it came naturally. Think of the things that make you happy, but what if they are the things that cause you pain?

What runs through your head when you are content? What puts you in that zone where your mind switches planes? It's really a fascinating thought, to realise we use so little of our minds. Maybe this is part of our mind that we normally don't use? Without meaning to sound like a braggart, I feel as if I am in tune with many things. I seem to think in a way that most others don't, which is a weakness as much as it can be a strength. My mind goes all over the place but as a result, I can't turn it off and just...be. Really, would I want to?

What was my point again? I forget. Rambling is something I tend to do when I get into one of these finger-flow modes. I've enjoyed today, and maybe even got some value out of it. Isn't that the point?

Reflections on Japan

I’ve never been to Japan, but somehow I feel like I’ve lived there for years. The country has touched every aspect of my life to some degree, and almost all of my interests and hobbies have a link to Japan.

From the time I read James Clavell’s excellent book Shogun, I have been enamoured with the culture and history of the place. I was no more than 12 or 13 at the time my mother picked it up for me, having seen the TV series herself in her childhood. I was sceptical but having just finished Lord of the Rings I was in need of something into which I could sink my adolescent teeth. Clavell managed to transport me to feudal Japan, making me feel like I was Blackthorne and like everything was happening to me. His attention to the details of daily life while developing a deep story of political manoeuvring and intrigue was the key to achieving that goal, but he somehow managed to shoehorn a love story, plenty of action, some comedy and a thorough cultural examination of Japan into the same book. Now granted, it was 1200+ pages, but it’s still an impressive achievement. Not many books I know can describe the ritual cha no yu ceremony one minute, then talk about two wizened samurai urinating off castle battlements the next. It gave birth to my desire to learn the Japanese language, at least to speak it. My complete lack of artistic talent will prevent me from ever learning to write it. If you haven’t read this book, you simply must.

Well that was an entertaining tangent. Clavell got me started down the Japanese path of samurai, ninja and honour, but it was the collectible card game Legend of the Five Rings that reawakened my interest. Whereas Magic: the Gathering hooked me on CCGs, L5R was the game that broadened my horizons and kept me interested when Magic started to get stale. I haven’t played in many years but from what I remember, it had multiple ways to win: conquer your opponent’s provinces, gain enough honour to petition the Emperor, assemble the Five Rings or dishonour your opponent. The game pitted different noble houses against each other, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. There were samurai and dragons and swords and spells and shugenja and ninja and…you get the idea. By avoiding otherworldly concepts like mana and using gold as your resource, and by tapping a previously unexplored vein of rich material, L5R earned itself a large following. The people behind the game went an extra mile in making it unique by having the results of tournaments actually affect the development of the game’s storyline. If you built a Crane deck and won a certain tournament, the story of the next expansion set would see Crane rise to power. The game also did its best to immerse you in Japan, as Clavell did. You “bowed” a card to use it, your samurai could duel each other and gain honour for winning (or lose honour for refusing the duel). Cards from certain Houses could not appear in decks of other houses…essentially, it was flavour central. I still have a boatload of cards somewhere, but alas nobody around here has ever heard of the game, let alone knows how to play it. Basically L5R kept me interested in collectible card games and gaming as a whole at a time when both were starting to feel very boring. It also expanded my horizons and showed me that other games were out there.

Most of you reading this will know of my love for professional wrestling. I’ve been an avid fan since I was 5, which is far too long for a grown man to be following a scripted sport. Know what? I don't care. It's an escape, it entertains me, it's harmless and you can't deny the athleticism of the performers. What a lot of people might not realize is the huge contribution that Japan has made to professional wrestling, and also the respect I have for Japanese wrestlers. Despite the language barrier, I immensely enjoy watching Japanese wrestling and have since I first saw it about 6 years ago. They eschew the drama and over-the-top kitsch of the US style and instead focus on making it look like a real fight as much as possible. More physical, more athletic and more visceral. Many wrestling purists (yes, they exist. Don't get me started) will tell you that it's the only professional wrestling worth watching. While I'm not that much of a snob, I will vouch for the quality of it.

There's more, of course. I love dragons, Japan has dragons. Japan is always at the cutting edge of technology, and I of course am a major technophile. The televisions, cellphones, games consoles and hi-tech gadgetry that have arisen from the Land of the Rising Sun are mind-boggling. Japan has awesome anime. I love awesome anime. Japan has sushi. I love awesome anime. The bottom line is that this is a country I've always wanted to visit, full of things I adore and a people I admire. I mean, this place got two atomic bombs dropped on it 65 years ago, and is now the third or fourth biggest economy in the world. It's also tiny compared with the likes of China, the US, Canada and Russia. The juxtaposition of the beautiful culture and traditions with the technology and development make it perfect for someone like me who loves the big city but sometimes needs to escape.

My heart wrenched watching the horrifying scenes from the earthquake. The fireballs soaring skyward were terrifying enough, but the waves caused by the tsunami creeping inexorably across the countryside and casually sweeping up everything in their path were the worst. Nothing stood a chance: cars, houses, boats, shops, anything. Mother Nature always wins, even when it means that everyone and everything else loses all they have. I know only a couple of people in Japan and very few people who were in danger from the tsunami, but I'm not ashamed to admit that it brought tears to my eyes. The scariest part of the whole thing was hearing about the small Pacific islands that could have been engulfed by the waves, not just badly damaged. Japan and the Japanese can and will recover, with time and help. And island that is literally swallowed by one of these devastating destructive forces...well, what can it do? What can the people there do if there is no high ground to which they can escape and there's no way to evacuate? And now Japan, a country which has already had more than its fair share of tragedy when it comes to radioactivity, is facing a potential meltdown that would dwarf the notorious Chernobyl disaster in size and scope.

We all have problems in our lives. Most of you will know that I've had more than my fair share of shit recently. You know what? None of it matters. Not one bit. I'm one person...we're talking about entire countries here. Put your lives into perspective; I know I have. I'd rather go through what I'm going through now than what our Japanese brothers and sisters are enduring.

I'm not writing this to encourage anyone to donate money or anything remotely like that. I'm just expressing. I love Japan, I love the Japanese culture, and my thoughts are with the Japanese people as they dig themselves out, brush themselves off and rebuild. When you have done so, I would love a fraction of your strength and resolve.

Writer's...Dam?

As long as I can remember, I've enjoyed writing. When I was 9 and in St. Gabriel's Primary in Barbados, I loved creative writing the most. We'd always have to write about our weekends and I was one of the only kids who actually tried to make it into more than a recitation of events. I vividly remember writing a seven-page story one time about a battle between two alien races, and thinking it was the most awesome thing ever.

My writing slacked off a lot in my teenage years, likely because I was far too busy playing sports and chasing girls. It only really picked up again when I moved to Canada and had nothing else to do with my time. Here's the piece of writing that got me back into the fold and made me remember that I could write:

Background

The Wyrm Ryders are thought to be the stuff of legend on Andrecht, having disappeared when Kal Torak came against the West in the Battle
of Vo Mimbre. However, they are still very much a reality,

The first Wyrm Ryders appeared with the Dawn of Time, when the Gods were testing there powers. Torak had created dragons and made them immune to sorcery,
but his brothers came together and removed that restriction from all offspring the dragons may have. They also made it so that mortals could
tame these fearsome beasts. Torak was enraged by this and, thinking to put his children beyond the reach of mortals, placed several restrictions
on those who could Impress a dragon.

Years passed without a single mortal ever being up to the task. In the days when the Gods still walked the earth among their flocks, it was not uncommon
to see Torak abroad on the great red dragon Incthyak, mother of all Dragons. Growing tired of his brother's ostentatiousness, Belar called to him
Ruethik, the venerable gold dragon and unwilling mate to Incthyak. Having done this, he told Ruethik of Torak's acts, and Ruethik undertook to
be Belar's mount. Again Torak was enraged, and for many years he and his dread steed were unseen in the Western skies.

It came to pass, in the time before the destruction of the Marags, that a young man named Khelin left his home in Boktor in Drasnia to seek wealth
in the mountains of Ulgoland, for as all know the jewellry of the Ulgos is unsurpassed in beauty and quality. Khelin had lived a clean,
worshipful life, paying respects to Belar when they were due and living according to his laws. Upon reaching the foothills, he made camp,
but in the morning awoke to find that his horse had been eaten, and his posessions stolen. Bandits was his first thought, but none dare cause
ill to another in the mountains of Ulgoland, for the Ulgos have an intense sense of justice. Perplexed, he sat on a rock to think. However, the rock
desired not to be sat upon, and he was thrown to the ground. Startled, Khelin examined closer this rock, and found it unremarkable. Again he
attempted to sit on it, and again he was forcibly removed. Disbelieving, Khelin rubbed his eyes. When he ceased, no longer was there a rock. In
fron of him stood a huge leg of steely grey, no doubt connected to an equally proportioned body. Terrified, Khelin tried to flee, but found himself rooted
to the spot by fear. He had heard, as had all young people brought up in the West, stories of Ulgo monsters and there diets.

The dragon, Talak, was equally perplexed. Being young for one of his kind, he had no conatact with these creatures before. What was it? Did it
talk? Talak lowered his head to Khelin's level and spoke in the manner of dragons: "What art thou? Why comest thou here to rest upon my form?
Markest thou not that I didst slumber there?"

Khelin could not comprehend the speech of this monster, but then the Spirit of Belar was upon him, and caused him to understand, and infused
him with confidence, and he spake in the manner of dragons thusly: "I am Khelin, son of Mordon and Layla, child of Belar. I am come hither to seek riches in these mountains.
Forgive my trespass, for to me thou didst appear as but a large rock."

Talak had heard of Belar in the tales told as part of his education, but he knew not of Mordon or Layla. His curiosity aroused, Talak mentally probed
Khelin. Satisfied with the knowledhe he retrieved, he said to Khelin:"Come thou with me, Khe-Lin. My Clutchfather wouldst know of you. I am but
young, and not sufficiently wise in the ways of our kind to know that which must be done."

And so a mortal came for the first time unto the land of Dragons. There was Khelin presented to Toraluk, Talak's Clutchfather. Old and wise though he was,
Toraluk had heard not of humans, and thus was Khelin brought before the WyrmMoot. There was the ancient lore of Wyrm Ryders revealed, and Talak
was asked if he desired this mortal as a Ryder, as it was him who first discovered Khelin in the hills. Talak replied in the affirmative, and thus was the
first of the Wyrm Ryders chosen.

However, the hand of Torak still had a part to play. Incthyak, excluded as always from the WyrmMoot, appeared in a blast of brimstone, and astride her back
was Dread Torak. "This shall not be!" came the commanding voice of the God. "Hast thou forgotten my words? Can it be that my most favoured children
do ignore my wishes so? This mortal hath not Impressed upon Talak, nor hath he passed The Test. He may not ride!"

And lo, Khelin was sore afraid, more the burning eye of the God Torak was upon him, and felt he insignificant. But behold, again did the Spirit of Belar
visit him, and give him courage and strength of Will. And Khelin spake once more, in the language of the Angaraks, Torak's own people: "I would take this Test, and
I would learn of this Impression of which you speak, O Dread One, for I am the Chosen of Belar, and thus doth he defy you!" And Torak was enraged once more, and drew
he Cthrek Goru, his mighty black sword, meaning to cleave in half young Khelin. But joined the dragons together their wills, and a mighty shield did they erect around the young
mortal. Seeing this, Torak did relent, and spake thusly:

"So be it. This mortal shall be Tested, than shall the WyrmMoot determine the fashion of his Impression tasks. But beware! Should my brother Belar interject himself in thy
testing, then shall I smite thee from this world, and these wurms also." And so was Khelin Tested, and was found fitting to be a Ryder. Then was he given tasks, that
he may prove the mettle of his character to the WyrmMoot.

"Behold, mortal, the WyrmMoot hath decided on your tasks. Go ye from this place, and find the Sword of Malaket, rumoured to be hidden in the mines of Cthol Murgos.
Return it to us. Then shall ye face Sorchuk, eleven times my son, in a contest of wits in a manner of your choosing. Finally shall you face our servant Keran in mortal combat.
Should you pass these tasks to the satisfaction of we assembled, then shall you be given your Ryder name and be given to Talak. Dost thou accept?"

Even now I enjoy reading that. That said, it was a while before I got to write anything again. I took to Usenet (and I'm sure 60% of you have never heard of that...) and started writing posts on rec.sport.pro-wrestling (RSPW) and alt.religion.kibology. That would satisfy me for a while, right up until Diablo II. That game consumed countless hours of my life from 2004-2006. Here's a little something I wrote from the perspective of one of my characters:

Parental Advisory - Explicit Lyrics

Hey yo. Word to the West Side. Peep this, my name is Carlito-Cool, and I am
one cold-ass negro. Imma tell y'all sumthin right now - call me after a
mu'fukken spaerk plug again, Imma bust a ice cap in yo asses. Naw man, not
no muhfukken coffee! What the fuck you think this is, muhfukken Starbucks?
Biatch?!

Yo, so whazzup wid dis Groundhog Day shit? Check this out, jus' now, I was
wailin' on that bitch-ass Baal and watchin' him go down like a $2 ho on prom
night, and then Tyrael-Pac Shakur floats down on them frizzeaky wings and
starts talking about some stone and an orange door. Go thru the door? Oh
hell no! So I'm like, "Fuck that shit homeboy, I gots me some bling to ID!"
Then, next thing you know, SHAPOW! I'm back here in the Westside hood,
surrounded by them same biatches with bows! Where's Sensei Cain at, at least
that brother had a clue. Man he gone too? Lookie here, I gots my main home
boy Azrael by my side anyway. Whatever man, I ain't about to look for no
answers, I gots to get back to my crib man.
Yo, my brother in the dashiki! I need a ride! Yo, what the fuck? Man you got
a hexclamation point over you head man. Das some baaaaad shit. Man don't be
playin like you don't know me, I ain't gots no time for no baby games. Yo
whatever man, Imma go talk to that Xena-lookin biatch Kashya. Man, I gots
some homeboys back in Lut Gholein who'd pay some serious rune for an hour
with that bitch. With her and her bitches, I gots this market locked up! Yo!
Bitch! You got my money? Naw naw naw, don't gimme that outlander bullshit,
where's my money bitch?? Know what, fuck this. Hold still bitch, Imma bitch
slap you back to Bangkok. Hey yo Akara, fetch my...what the fuck? Another
hexclamation point? Dis some Twilight Zone shit right here! And you wants to
be playin too? Bitch, just cos I ain't into no grandmas don't mean you gots
to be hatin on a playa! OK, some fucked up shit goin on up in here. Azrael,
is like me and you da only negros who ain't on some grade A chronic. So dis
is what we goin do: same story, same muhfukken time, different muhfukken
channel. We goin be the same big pimpin, bitch lovin', West side Stylin'
Tanqueray chuggin', gangsta killin' baddest ass muhfukkers on God's green
earth.
Now. Word on the wagon trail is that dis shitheap is just like the other
two. That albino Corpsefire got hisself holed up in a cave, peddling crack
and cheap-ass ho's. He gots to die for two reasons. One, ain't nobody going
be peddling crack where I'm at. Two, he undercutting my prices. So, we going
find that ghetto, we going buss up them goomba-looking crack whores and they
pimps that keep getting em back up. We goin fuck up them Chewbacca-lookin
dumbasses, then we goin find that albino walking dead muhfukker and put his
sorry ass outta bidness. We gots ourselves all pimped out, my Ice Glock is
cocked and loaded. Yo Azrael!

Is ass-whuppin time! BIATCH!

Yeah, completely different. Anyway, where is all this leading? Slow down skipper, there's more to come! As most of you will know, I eventually got a gig writing for 411mania, and that more than anything is what led to any notoriety or recognition value I may have.

So here's the thing: I want to write a novel. I used to think that all writers could write all things, but that's clearly not the case. I just...can't do a novel. There is one in my head, but I can't organise it into something coherent. I tried to to NaNoWriMo, but I just couldn't progress the story. My thoughts were not translating to words. Is it that some writers just can't do a novel? I really hope not, but it's starting to feel that way.

My writing in general has ground to a halt. I left 411 in September for a variety of reasons, and I don't regret the decision. I do miss writing though. So I figured that since I was getting back into Magic, I could write about that. Turns out I wasn't so good at it. I wrote a couple of articles for ManaDeprived which were met with resounding apathy. That's the main reason for this blog...an outlet for my random thoughts, some of which just scream to be let out in detail. The benefit of my own blog means that I can write about whatever takes my fancy. Today I wanted to vent about writing. Thanks for reading.