Attention: I have a house. I repeat, I have a house. Boo yah.

For those of you that may be interested, I'm running an Exalted tabletop game with a few friends and have extensively rewritten a bunch of the fluff for it as well as new rules and the like. Eight years of having two books and never using them created this monster in me. If you're interested, what I've got posted is here at The Exalted Wiki: EwindaleMoss. It's some good stuff that I'm moderately proud of. Have a look if you like. I'll be posting the sessions in story format eventually so just post if you want on the filter that I'll post them under.

( The Pallbearer #42: Group Therapy )

( The Boy Named Nod #38: Hanging Plants )

( Speechless #20: Resurgence )

Whew. After work and life and other projects and shit, we finally have a Chrysalis Falls update. Let's see if I can get back on a semblance of schedule again.

( Penitent #9: Misinterpretations )

Bleargh.

Just got done ranting at Warren Ellis' Whitechapel page. Pretty standard stuff. I know this is supposed to be online journal and all but I generally try and keep to myself if I'm getting all angsty and pissed off about things. But I'm finally needing to vent. The writing's been derailed a bit due to (as is always the real cause) my lack of freaking discipline. I'm regaining the weight I worked so hard to lose, I despise my job working for Domino's and since it's summer, the money is going to get tighter, the house market is completely screwed so I'm stuck living with the in-laws a little longer, and the bills are enough to keep freaking me out into to buying ANYTHING including things that I really need to get the books profitable or truck functional or anything like that. I'm just pissed because my situation is shit and I'm the one that let it get that way. Thankfully, E is able to keep me fairly sane and moving in a direction other than down. It's just been so unbearably shit lately. The books are selling worth a damn, the couple of magazine interviews have been postponed, and I'm just moping about the entire creative process in general.

As said before

Bleargh.

( Wither The Vain #33: Change of Plans )

Something new just because I needed a change of pace...

They executed another one of us today. I don’t know what the big deal is anymore. They’ve been up to this every day for the last two months. I’ve never been one for listening to sermons or for taking part in rituals. This seems too much like both.

Our snipers keep bitching that they can’t puncture that sphere they keep appearing out of every morning. The shots just ricochet off and another trooper gets barbecued for our amusement. Y’know, I didn’t see anybody giving a damn about the bodies we marched over to get here. So why should I give a damn about hostages getting killed. It’s one a day. We’ve lost eighty thousand in the first two weeks we’ve been on this piece of shit planet. Why should I care about one guy a day?

Personally, I still think we ought to bomb the planet. A good orbital bombardment would do wonders for cleaning up the filth here. Viral agents, oxygen igniters, or plain old high thermal charges would work. Turn this goddamn desert into one shiny sheet of glass and THEN go hunting for mineral deposits. But no, instead, they want these Burners conquered. They’d be perfect on Telgar VI against the snow peoples there. Yeah, so would napalm from space.

Maybe I’m just bitter that I’m not on leave. Or that I haven’t had leave since Delgra II. I keep being told that I’m lucky that I go to be part of the withdrawl force on Delgra. They tell me that if I’d have been given leave for Lukich instead of being one of fifty guys out of the 772 to live through that withdrawl, I’d probably have been one of the guys to find out about the fungus on Lukich that thinks lungs are great places for putting down roots.

Still, the chance to get laid makes me wonder just how bad lungroot could be. I mean, the planet’s one huge whorehouse. Surely someone’s got some standards. Oh oh, looks like we’re going back into the tunnels after The Burners again. Close quarters fighting with indigenous people that look like goddamn morlocks and specialize in flamethrowers sounds like a BRILLIANT idea to me. Let’s go.

For the glory of the EverReach, they cry.

For not getting cooked is mine.

-Drearily yours,
Jasper Bleek

( Rue #23: Falling Through Dark Mirrors )