The warrior with his weapons taken away

Ever have one of those days where all you can think is red-hot haze? Those are the days the animal in you needs to hunt. Those are the days where we go out and drink and fight and fuck. Kill or die, rape and pillage. I can see my ancestors, celtic warriors, franks, danes, visgoths, […]

Ever have one of those days where all you can think is red-hot haze?

Those are the days the animal in you needs to hunt.

Those are the days where we go out and drink and fight and fuck. Kill or die, rape and pillage. I can see my ancestors, celtic warriors, franks, danes, visgoths, all those party animals who sacked rome again and again. I can see, sometimes, how simple a life it would have been. My axe, my spear, maybe a war club, nothing but white-hot berserker rage to fuel me, that and maybe some crude fire-water, some foul-tasting, sour mead or ale. Sweep in, screaming and roaring, over-whelm my foes with my fury and need to kill and crush, rend and tear.

Then bloody and battered, a captured wine bottle in my hand, I find the treasure, the prize won. The women await, for a different kind of violence.

Simple. Kill or die. The winner takes the prize. The most powerful, most beastly, gets the choice of the spoils.

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blog hackery again

I should not try to hack on my block when I’m fulla pharmacuticals, but Doxy got me started wanting to fix some things. This space may look all fucked up for a bit more. I’m trying to roll back to a fully-functional two column layout so I can start over. Should be better fairly soon […]

I should not try to hack on my block when I’m fulla pharmacuticals, but Doxy got me started wanting to fix some things.

This space may look all fucked up for a bit more. I’m trying to roll back to a fully-functional two column layout so I can start over. Should be better fairly soon though.

Either that or I take the rest of these pills and, well, after that, who will care?