Archive for September, 2014

Highborn Journal – 4 Root (ep 15)

Winds rushed over the basin creating an eerie howling sound, a little sand was raining down into the densely packed garden like hail. Most of the windows had been closed with shutters as Whlana stood in the basin watching the spectacle. “I was sent to bring you and your leader to the elders for a briefing on the matter of your mission.” Bakir grumbled, he had emerged from the cave that the desert wraith had covered with large planes of cloth in order to protect the water from getting polluted with sand. Although little wind reached the bottom of the basins they were fluttering violently. “You found me, let us depart.” Whlana cooperated with him without regard to his demeanor.

“I can’t find your friend.” he replied, almost choking on the word friend. Astonished Whlana raised one eyebrow. Krajani was one of a handful eastern Albin, the desert wraith were mostly dark skinned people. A fair skinned blonde Albin stuck out like a sore thumb, she couldn’t have vanished in Whlanas opinion. Returning to her room with Bakir at her side, she was surprised to not finding her there. “I have a concerning hunch.” she whispered glancing over the strewn out items in the room.

“She is out there?” Qualams voice was high pitched, an indefinable smirk played amongst Bakirs lips. “Guards at the entrance haven’t seen her,” Whlana stepped up in front of the assembly of elders since Bakir smirked. “but she has the powers of turning invisible, at least for some time.” Whlana had observed the power of invisibility amongst eastern Albin weavers, teaching it to western weavers, but the eastern weavers had perfected it. Although unfamiliar with weavery Whlana had heard that it was taking its toll on the weaver, even before weavery disappeared. “She is nowhere to be found in Babd-ael-Drakh.” Bakir woke from his smirking thoughts. Qualam wandered up and down the large semicircular hall, other elders were present, but the full assembly had dissolved after news of Krajanis disappearance had reached them. His steps echoed from the smooth walls and ceiling. After a few moments of marching up and down he returned to Bakir and Whlana. “It is too dangerous to send you,” he pointed at Whlana, his head however slowly turned to Bakir who lost his smirk. “but you on the other hand are a desert wraith, you can go and rescue her.” Bakir wanted to protest, not only had the Albin informed the wraith of the vanished magic in the world outside Babd-ael-Drakh, the desert wraith had noticed as well, and the direction Krajani would probably have embarked in, in order to find roots of the sandtree, he would soon leave the range of Babd-ael-Drakhs magic. “Take this.” Qualam put two small round pebbles in Bakirs hand. “One of these gems is yours, the other is a gift for Krajani, if you do not deliver it to her when you find her, I will personally teach you some sense of duty.” Bakir stared at the two thumb-sized pebbles in his hand. Again he wanted to protest but Qualams stare silenced his words before they left his mouth or even formed in his mind. Begrudgingly he marched off leaving Whlana baffled at the events that had occured before her eyes. Certain that Qualam would explan Bakir left the council hall the elders used to assemble, or greet guests in. Through a long soft slope carved out of the rock ge marched past rooms that were bigger than the council hall, filled with all the knowledge the desert wraith had accumulated. At the bittom of the basin he quickly crossed the lush gardens and shallow ponds, to reach the cave. Above the storm still raged on covering the plants and paths with dusty sand. On his way he wrapped a cloth around his face, after he had wettened it with fresh water.The guards were reluctant to let Bakir pass into the storm, but stepped aside after hearing of his assignment. Furious that he had been sent to find a foolish woodland woman that had intentionally wandered into a sandstorm Bakir felt empowered with his rage. Still he reached for the water supply he had taken with him every few minutes to reassure himself it was still present. Although fierce winds tore on his clothes and little exposed skin, Bakir fought against the wind keeping south. Since the storm left no grain of sand unturned he couldn’t find and follow any tracks, he just hoped that the Albin was marching south and didn’t get lost along the way. Cursing her for quasi leading him out into the sandstorm Bakir felt a weird sensation after a while. For a moment the ethereal that made his wizardry possible seemed to vanish, but in the very next moment it replenished from inside his leather pouch.

Life ain’t that hard: Fashion

If you’re one of the eye cancer ridden bastards who runs around buying shit from Paris and Milan, a blind sailor wouldn’t put on his dead gay uncle, now used as scarecrow, then you deserve to die of bankruptcy.
But this isn’t why I’m writing this.

I will jot make a distinction between male and female fashion, that would be below my standards.
So, you want to have something fashionable to wear in public, here’s the rules:

1. Decency. Above all else, decency. Not too tight, not too short, not too see-through. Decent.
2. Affordability. No brands that deliver nothing but a name, no cloth that delivers nothing but a legend. Decent, affordable.
3. Appealing.
3.a. If it is revolting/a potato-sack/worn-looking/camouflage/animalskin print, don’t. Just don’t. I will find you, and I will hurt you.
3.b. Avoid colors they use in hi-viz jackets, post-it notes and markers/highlighters.
3.c. No paintings on your clothing! Nor any other form of weirdness. No printed out photos that have been transformed into a fullblown tragedy in the shape of pants! No vomit stain Hardy, no cat-space-dolphin-jesus picture hoodies/underpants/whatever.
(Allowed are: logos, bandshirts, and the likes)
4. Matching. I guess this goes without saying. Pink sneakers (see 3.b.) green linen pants (3.a.) and a sweater with a cat staring at the orion nebula (3.c.) don’t go together. Nor do red heels, with a beige skirt and a black blouse. Matching colors. If you’re colourblind, go with black. Decent, affordable, appealing, matching colors.
5. No trends! If you follow a certain trend/fashion/style you deserve your empty wallets. If you have to dress a certain way to fit in with your peers, your peers are obviously as shallow as the muddy quagmire your social group just emerged from.
Decent, affordable, appealing, matching colored, individual.
6. Accessoires. Holy shit! Be subtle, don’t decorate yourself like a Christmas tree, or an Indian bride on her wedding day. Subtle, people. Look it up if you’re unfamiliar with the word.
Decent, affordable, appealing, matching colored, individual, subtle.
7. Footwear. Keep to the guidelines so far, and add that if you want eccentric, or uber-sexy shoes – don’t. High heels, weird boots and the likes belong in the bedroom, or wherever you choose to copulate.
Flipflops belong to the beach or the bath. Sandals belong in the trash, but if you must – leave the socks!

That would be all, this is just a rough guideline, no specifics, nothing gender specific either. There is something that needs to be said to the women folk out there, however:
8. If you wear a T-Shirt that spans text over your bosom, don’t be offended if people (men in particular) are looking there (presumably reading).

Alright. Now, I’m done.
I hope you find this list useful, and are carrying it with you on your next shopping tour, and before I leave you with this, theres a final item on this list:
9. If your shopping experience takes up more than 3 hours for 6 different stores, you’re doing it wrong. Return all items and start over!

Highborn Journal – 4 Root (ep 14)

North of the main basin ran a small river through the rock, it joined later the big cave that connected with the other basins, the cave it flowed out from was a narrow hole in the rock that no one could hope to brave without drowning. To Krajani it was just a minor detail on the side, she had been sent out into the desert to find the roots of the sandtree, not the desert people. “They sent me.” Bakirs voice woke Krajani from her inner monologue, she wanted to leave if the wraith couldn’t help. “They say that in two days time the sandstorm will have calmed and I should accompany you to the south.” his words seemed forced. “Your people can’t tell the weather, can they?” her voice was stingy as she addressed him without looking. “The sky is clear and blue, desert sand man.”

“For a forest woman that knows nothing of the desert you are a mouthful, watch it grow dark.” he hissed ready to walk away he turned. “They told me however that in a rockfield south of here, there might be what you seek. We will see then who’s the inferior in the desert.”

Krajani kept staring at him as he walked away, in her belly she felt her anger manifesting into a hardened knot.

Long after he had vanished into the large cave to the other basins she marched, still aggravated, to the room she had to bunk in with Whlana. Glad at finding the room empty she quickly gathered some of her belongings and some water before leaving again.

Highborn Journal – 4 Root (ep 13)

“As you no doubt have gathered already, we as a society are xenophobic, so you are limited to this basin.” the der who had introduced himself as Qualam told both Krajani and Whlana. To his surprise it was the latter that spoke with him, instead of Krajani who had made it clear that she was the leader of the visitors. “She is as Xenophobic as Bakir.” Whlana had not only lowered her voice but whispered after she had noticed the surprise in his dark brown, alnost black eyes.

With a hinted smirk Qualam nodded. “You may go to the river, but only extract which you need to drink, the time and place to wash is not where you can go, nor is it today.” he bowed slightly before leaving the two in the room.

It was a luxurious room that had been carved out of the rock, as have all the other rooms in the basin, not a single building had been erected. In neighboring rooms the rest of the expedition had been accommodated.

Krajani leaned at the wibdow that looked out into the basin. They were twenty to thirty meters above the basin ground, outside the door ob the opposite wall was a long hallway that led to the ground and further up as well as to the other rooms. “Thank you for talking with him.” Krajani mumbled watching mornings grey light flood into the basin.

“Remember that charming young lad we met earlier in the desert?” Whlana sighed, resignation took a hold of her, she seemed to be stuck with Krajani in that room. “You are just like him.” she continued after Krajani had made a noise that sounded like a muffled confirmation. Enraged Krajani stormed from the window, but the calm and yet cold look upon Whlanas face slowed her down, eventually stopped her. “You are crazy.” she hissed turning away, facing he window. In order to flee any further conversation she formed a wall around herself that the word of the western Albin wouldn’t be able to breach.

Life ain’t that hard: Selfie-sh

This selfie craze is getting out of hand.

I know that you younger folks have a disconnected feeling of self, and thus are, oddly enough, self obsessed. But walking down a street, like I witnessed with mine own eyes (!), making faces like spastic attacks, while having one arm extended with the cellphone/camera isn’t helping your selfrecognition.
It’s helping you find the fastest way to the nearest doctor. And I ain’t talking “Doctor Who” here. Long story short:

Stop taking Selfies!

You want nice pictures of yourselves? Here’s a short simple guide:
1. Take people with you!
2. Go to nice (/exotic/weird/”cool”/alloftheabove) locations
3. Take pictures of one another!
4. Don’t pose, don’t act. Just be.
5. Minimalistic brush up. (Close to no photoshop)
6. If you must, ask either a stranger, or use the timer and a stand to take a selfie, no holding of the camera/cellphone or use of mirror/trans-dimensional-portal.

Take this as advice from someone who managed to evade pictures/photos/cameras from ages 14-20…

Highborn Journal – 4 Root (ep 12)

Turning to the guests the elder let go of Bakirs shoulder. “Sadly we cannot tell you where to find the roots or lead you, as we do not know with certainty, but we can aid you in your objective.”

Bakir raised his head, anger in his eyes. “They are outsiders!” he hissed stepping at the side of the elder who looked harshly to the young man. “A sandstorm will be coming soon, they won’t survive without our aid.”

Bakir looked from the elder to the Albin. “They are here by choice. The knew of the risks!”

“And the fate of the world might depend on their survival!” the elders booming voice echoed in the distance, for a moment the desert turned silent while the echoes calmed away. Even the distant noise of the lovestruck desert giants ceased for a moment. Like the pupil Bakir lowered his eyes again. “Yes master.” although he was whimpering in a low tone there was a hint of grudge in his voice. “Good.” the elder turned to the guests and smiled, waving them towards Babd-ael-Drakh he marched towards the cavern.

As they passed by Bakir Krajani stopped. “There is slim hope for your kind, but you seem to be stuck in backwards ways.”

The cavern led through black rock into a large basin that was almost perfectly circular, ground level inside the basin was more than a hundred meters below the surrounding desert. “There are several of these Drakh as we call them, all connected by the large cave.” Krajani looked to the sky that was visible above the basin, the entrance to Babd-ael-Drakh was roughly in the same direction as the gap to the Bloodshiredelta. Immediately she pondered whether in ancient times the river had flowed all the way to the basins, through the cavern opening into the rock, eroding it until the basins formed.

Highborn Journal – 4 Root (ep 11)

Whlana trotted a few steps behind Krajani, she was a bit satisfied that the man they had encountered was as charming and warm as Krajani, and these two had to put up with one another. She heard the voices of the other Albin behind her, mumbling. Although she couldn’t make out the words she could extract from the tone of their voices that they too were rather amused, although concerned.

Keeping a respectful distance Whlana observed the mysterious stranger and Krajani walk at the head of the expedition in complete silence. From time to time one of them threw a judging glance at the other. “Why are your people so distrustful of strangers who are not affiliated with the circle from whom you secluded yourselves?” Krajanis tone was stingy as she loojed up ahead with a proud expression. “We distrust anyone who is not a child of the sands or incapable of wizardry. Your lush environment has made you soft and weak, you lack strength.” Krajani made a disgruntled noise at his remarks. “You humans are have no true strength, needing rest every night, we have hardly rested since we entered this desert.”

Again both kept silent for a while. In tbe distance a range of rocks rose out of the desert against mornings silverlining at the horizon.

“I Bakir, son of Rafik, bring you these strangers!” the young man stood in front of a group of men in similar attire. After the expedition had reached the ridge he had hollered for the elders to assemble. From a cavern the men had emerged together with a dozen of curious other men, women and children. “They claim to seek the root of the sandtree!” a mumbling wave went through the group of elders. Krajani looked through the entirity of assembled. As far as she could tell, all of them were magic users. She didn’t want to know what happened with children who were born without the gift, but it also occurred to her that they might not have that sort of problem, since the ridge seemed to have the same propperties as the pyramid on Naga’na.

“What is their business with the sandtree root?” one of the elders spoke to Bakir, feeling belittled Krajani stepped up, explaining that they were sent to secure the root as the Sphinxes were returning.

Again mumbling arose amongst the elders, partly due to the explanation, mostly because they were unaccustomed to a woman speaking to them.

An outsider on top of that!

“You desert people can’t be seriously that narrow minded! The fate of our world, inckuding your refuge, depends on the root being found and combined with the burning eye to combat these creatures, and you are seriously insulted because a stranger, a female stranger speaks to you?” Bakir stared at Krajani with disgust and anger.

“Be silent!” he hissed through his teeth.

“Bakir!” an elder had stepped towards the young man. “These strangers are unfamiliar to our customs.” The man with the long grey beard had kind eyes, that looked at the young man with patience. Nodding, as a pupil nods to his teacher, Bakir calmed himself.

Addendum to the Hippies…

A well known theatre (actors on a stage) in my country is in dire need of renovations. To rake in donations they started an advertising campaign (with a rather unsettling image):

The woman in the picture (in others it’s a man) has no eyes, but skin stretched over the place where eyes should be. The slogan goes something like this: “Whether you want to see it, or not. No renovation. No theater. Let’s do something.”
Okay. Sad, but okay.

So far, so good.

Then someone took a sharpie (or edding) and wrote on the forehead of the woman on the ad the following

“So much injustice…
so many wars…so much lunacy…
whom is caring for theatre then?”

I know it isn’t supposed to say “whom” but I wanted to carry the grammatical error over from german, and this is the best I could come up with. So that would be issue number one with that graffity.

Number 2: Injustice? Wars? Lunacy? That’s business as usual you numbskull!
We need theatre (and it’s successors “Movies”, “TV”, “Gaming”, “Internet”) as a form of escapism. I’d rather live in a world with injustice, wars and lunacy that has these escapsims in it, than a world with absolute peace, equality and sense that has NO (performing) arts!

Theatre (and it’s successors) not only provide relief from the world we have to endure, but also serve as a projection of our dreams. Even IF we were to have peace, equality and sanity in the world, all of the world, we still have dreams, dreams that can’t be fulfilled.
For example: No magic, no starships (yet), so we need a projector.

We need and want drama, we need it to satisfy our basic emotional responses. We want it in order to feel empathy.
To remind us why we are doing what we are doing. In that perfect world this hippy scribbler indirectly demands, we will soon suffer from a lack of empathy, as there is no suffering, thus we become indifferent.
That’s were drama comes in.
In the world we live in right now, we need drama to remind us that there are solutions to things. To hone our empathy, and transport that empathy from the play (etc.) out into the real world.

Theatre (and so on) satisfies our need for human interaction, even if we are a social introvert, we are still hardwired to NEED it, and this is a basic need served. An introvert who can’t speak to people, still can feel (empathy wise) the entire emotionrange due to these projections.

So you god damn hippy, we need theatre (and so on), as escapism, as honing for our empathy, as distraction, as levitation, as projection. We need to dream, to hope, to aim, to reflect, to think, but also to shut down our mind and let things unfold without us interfering.
For thousands of years there was theatre as entertainment in one way or another.
Denying that it is a basic human need to entertain and be entertained, is even more crippling to society and our development,than injustice, wars and lunacy together.

With that said, here the stumbling block:

CreepyTake care, peace

PS: Yes, she looks like something lifted from a creepypasta…

The Organic Farm

Well, they had a party and an open invitation at a “local” organic farm.

So we went there.

If I disliked “organic” before, I officially hate that crap now.

Basic semantics aside (EVERYTHING is organic/biological, if it weren’t, it would’ve oozed into our reality from some other universe) I believe i cracked their secret.

Class A goods (for example Apples) are sent off to stores as normal goods.
B grade and less qualified products are covered in dirt and grime, called “organic”, and sold for a fortune! Although it’s just the regular crap, just slightly less A grade.

Thanks to an Ex of mine I know how pork tastes sometimes.
As a city boy I knew pork only as what most of us know it. But if you buy the cheap pork, you have a certain “porky” flavour to it.
Here my Ex comes into the picture.
She was living in the country side and we occassionally drove by pig farms. You know that porky flavor?
That’s the intense, rural, porky flavor.

I had a pork Schnitzel at the organic farm. Guess what taste was coming through? Right…ORGANIC. Expensive, organic porky, rural, pig shit flavor you get from cheap pork.

Now I also know that I fracking hate hippies!

I agree on their ideals, on the philosophy – but I’d like to strangle them in public!

“Yes, uhm Lemonaid lenonade please.” *barkeep gets it to her* *takes a sip* “This is carbonated! ”
“Yes, it’s lenonade!”
*returns 20 seconds later* “do you have a non refrigerated one, this one’s too cold.”
“Sorry ma’am, they’re stored cold and brought here to be on display in the fridge.”
I would’ve told her to hold it in her hands to warm it up, shake the damn bottle to get rid of the carbon acid, but that would involve “animal” labour, so it wouldn’t be vegan…besides, this crazy nut hat a Ché Guevara face ironed/sewn to the back of her jacket, over her shoulderblade, right where the strap of her bag was tearing on it.
So she is in support of a man who ordered executions on people who did not share his ideals, who ordered non-revolutionary workers to do hard labor in a camp?
Or more likely she’s anti establishment, but doesn’t know jackshit about Ché. Or only the good bits.

Speaking of anti establishment.
You organic nutjobs – you created an INDUSTRY. It is not organic anymore if it has to be driven cross country. The carbon foot print the so called “organic” shit leaves behind is so big that all organic-ness is fading away.
It isn’t possibly organic, if the interests of an INDUSTRY are at stake.

You want organic food?
Farm it!
You can’t, but want it? Find someone who DOES farm it! No, not the supermarket, again, not organic: just the regular shit, covered in dirt.
I mean like a friend. Or a small local farmer.
But not an industry.

Next up, in line at the organic supermarket on site, I see a stand from some woman who looks like she hadn’t seen fun since 1969, and on display, amongst other “goods”, was a DVD:

“We’re not vaccinating!” – well good. I hope you’re going to catch every disease there is a vaccine against. You, your spouse and your kid(s), whom you try and “protect” from poisoning due to vaccination…YOU DIM WITTED BAFOONS!

Don’t any of you dare and say that your kids didn’t get sick. Just DON’T!
There are only vaccinated people around your kid, including you, where should your kid get an infection from? Yes we need the vaccinations to KEEP the current level of infection free societies. Or even to eradicate certain diseases all to gether.
BTW: Vaccines aren’t antibiotics. In NO current vaccine is mercury an ingredient. Vaccines DO NOT cause autism, seizures, cancer, leukaemia or anything else.
Maybe a little fever. Not more.

Your kid is in special school, because your kid has always been that way, not because vaccinations brain damaged your kid.

If you believe any of the anti-vaccination propaganda, your fault. If you spread it, I believe you deserve to be beaten. If you then say “You people who vaccinate don’t love you children, because you inject them with poison!” I believe we can take custody of your kids away AND beat you.
We love our children and we give them vaccinations BECAUSE we love them. No illnesses should harm our kids. We do not believe in voodoo shit saving our kids from weird viruses.
Look, incense does not ward off viruses, weed helps in pain relief and some other stuff, but not in cases we have vaccines against.
They finally got an ebola vaccination.
If ebola was around you, would you refuse that vaccination too because it is poison?

One final thing about that. (And I know I piss off a lot of people with this, including friends of mine) If ANYONE tries to tell you ebola and aids are lies and they are only sideffects of vaccinations – lunacy. If someone says that ebola and HIV are developed viruses from some (US)lab – plausible.
Stupid and paranoid, but at least plausible.

No. Stop resisting, and show that you love your kids, and get them vaccinated against all the diseases that might end their lives or cause them misery (measels, rota, mumps, small pocks, and so fracking on).

No more organic farms for me.
No organic lies for me.
No hippies around me.
Take care, peace!

Highborn Journal – 4 Root (ep 10)

Against the moonlight a giant body rose out of the dunes, Whlana immediately wanted to ready her warriors, but Krajani held her back with a calming hand. Amazed the members of the expedition watched another giant body rise out of the sand. Thundering the two bodies clashed together, like vines the two intertwined, writhing they sunk to the side, after a few moments they disappeared beneath sand, only slight grumbling in the distance told of their presence. “I have read of these creatures. They only come out at night, and as it appears they’re either mating or fighting over territory.” Whlana shook her head, someone had forgotten to brief her about these creatures. “They are a dying species, but harmless. Like whales in the seas.” Krajani spoke of the unknown creatures like she normally spoke of Albin, with high regards. “I thought the wraith sent that thing to scare us off, we should be close.” Whlana sighed as the expedition resumed on their path.”Oh you are.” the voice of a young man cut through the nightly air, making Whlana and the other warriors look around with raised weapons. “Might I ask what brings a bunch of outsiders to Babd-ael-Drakh?” the owner of the voice appeared not far from their position on a sanddune. “The root of the sandtree.” Whlana shouted back before Krajani could intervene, as she said it Whlana knew it was a mistake. Dressed in seemingly black clothes covering every part of his body but the eyes the man came closer, stopped a few meters from Krajani and Whlana. “We don’t reveal the deserts secrets to outsiders.” in his voice Whlana heard the same distrust and racial hatred she knew from Krajani. “We don’t need a desert rat with bad teeth and breath to lecture us.” Krajani growled, feeling the ethereal from the unseen path flowing through herself she lit fires around the stranger. Mildly impressed the young man doused the fires with his mind. “At least you’re not impaired.” he looked at Whlana, mustered her from head to toe. “At least not all of you.” he turned to Krajani, slowly uncovering his face, he grinned at her with healthy teeth. Quickly he glanced along the lines of the Albin amassed before him. With a much less amused expression he sighed. “What are your reasons to seek a root of the sandtree?” Krajani shoved herself in front of Whlana. “The Sphinxes are returning, outside certain refuges magic has all but vanished.” The young lad stood in from of Krajani, studying her eyes. After a few moments he turned to the side pointing in the direction behind him. “I will lead you to our refuge, but I cannot guarantee that you will be allowed to pass the border of our land.” Not even waiting for any signs of the Albin following him the young man started walking away, Krajani waved the others to follow and pursued the young desert wraith.