Author: john wick

Opened up the Principia Discordia this morning to a random page and found this…

In the year 1166 B.C., a malcontented hunchbrain by the name of Greyface got it into his head that the universe was as humorless as he, and he began to teach that play was sinful because it contradicted the ways of Serious Order. “Look at all the order about you,” he said. And from that, he deluded honest men to believe that reality was a straightjacket affair and not the happy romance as men had known it.

It is not presently understood why men were so gullible at that particular time, for absolutely no one thought to observe all the disorder around them and conclude just the opposite. But anyway, Greyface and his followers took the game of playing at life more seriously than they took life itself and were known even to destroy other living beings whose ways of life differed from their own

The unfortunate result of this is that mankind has since been suffering from a psychological and spiritual imbalance. Imbalance causes frustration, and frustration causes fear. And fear makes a bad trip. Man has been on a bad trip for a long time now.

It is called THE CURSE OF GREYFACE.

(Or, in the modern vernacular, THE CURSE OF BUSHFACE.)

So, I’ve written four stories in as many days for my new job.
I’m waiting for my new agent to tell me what he thinks of my novel.
I’m thinking about all the shit that’s gonna go down on Friday.

And I can’t write. Not a lick.
Spuh.
Hate it when this happens.

“Writer’s block is tyring to be brilliant on your first draft.” – Steven J. Cannel

So, I’ve got three — no, wait — four stories in the cue, just waiting to jump into the Neopedia. I’ll point them all out when I get the chance.

It’s fun, watching the artists illustrate the stories, make pictures for my words. Sometimes, it’s exactly what I thought it would be. Sometimes, it’s nothing like what I imagined. But, it’s always cool.

And, as always, there are surprises for people who know what to look for…

… and for the news of what’s going down on Friday. This will be in my CD player on the way to the game.

A Little Rain
(Tom Waits/K. Brennan)

The Ice Man’s mule is parked
Outside the bar
Where a man with missing fingers
Plays a strange guitar
And the German dwarf
Dances with the butcher’s son
And a little rain never hurt no one
And a little rain never hurt no one

They’re dancing on the roof
And the ceiling’s coming down
I sleep with my shovel and my leather gloves
A little trouble makes it worth the going
And a little rain never hurt no one

The world is round
And so I’ll go around
You must risk something that matters
My hands are strong
I’ll take any man here
If it’s worth the going
It’s worth the ride

She was 15 years old
And never seen the ocean
She climbed into a van
With a vagabond
And the last thing she said
Was, “I love you mom.”

And a little rain
Never hurt no one
And a little rain
Never hurt no one

Train Song
(Tom Waits)

Well I broke down in E. St. Louis
On the Kansas City line
and I drunk up all my money
that I borrowed every time
and I fell down at the derby
and now the night’s black as a crow
It was a train that took me away from here
but a train can’t bring me home

What made my dreams so hollow
was standing at the depot
with a steeple full of swallows
that could never ring the bell
and I come ten thousand miles away
with not one thing to show
well it was a train that took me away from here
but a train can’t bring me home

I remember when I left
without bothering to pack
you know I up and left with
just the clothes I had on my back
now I’m sorry for what I’ve done
and I’m out here on my own
well it was a train that took me away from
here but a train can’t bring me home

Well, if his own Clan can’t kill Mr. Walker, maybe a XXXXXXXXX can’t, either.

You are red. You are impure, but noble. You are precious and true to yourself and others. When you love, you love entirely, and will do anything to make your love happy. You are sure of your identity, therefore, you cannot change others or be changed. You are a true prince, you may be forgotten, but without you, none of us could go on.

What inner color are you?