You have got to be fucking kidding me…

I just needed a break, so I sat down with the guitar to work on a song for a few minutes. Just found a rhythm that works with my lyrics and BAM, busted string. No replacements in the house. Perfect metaphor for every fucking day I’ve had this week. I’m getting very, very near to the end of my rope.

Strung Out In No Man’s Land

“I think I’m sinkin’ fast. This call is probably my last. I’m throwin’ out a life line, and I’m doin’ it for old time’s sake, though I know you’re gonna break my heart one more time…”

Yes, Have Some

“He will come in one of the pre-chosen forms. During the rectification of the Vuldroni, the Traveler came as a large and moving Torb! Then, during the third reconciliation of the last of the Meketrex supplicants, they chose a new form for him: that of a giant Sloar! Many Shubs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Sloar that day, I can tell you!”

Real Men Don’t Play GURPS

Chris’s note: I’m reposting this without the author’s permission. His website has been inactive for about two and a half years, so waiting around for permission seems like it might be a waste of time. And real men don’t waste time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to wash down a pile of rare meat with a bottle of whiskey, then roll up some characters. Like a man, baby. Like a man.

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