Cruel Spring

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Springtime tends to be a season of dark memories and bittersweet moments for me, but that was made all the more visceral this week after reading the story of Mike Penner/Christine Daniels.

Life is seldom easy, and the hardest thing is always finding our proper place and role in it…where we feel safe, comfortable, loved. Seeking it against all odds is an act of courage, often a source of tragedy…and I for one bitterly mourn the death of Mike/Christine, and hope that the life they lived will help other people find the peace they never found.

Read on, to understand.

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The Titanic Trio

Ok, I admit I am getting excited to see how they handle the last book on film, however I strangely have faith in these three. They really have grown with the characters.

Of course, in ten years it will be Daniel Radcliff appearing with the Royal Shakespeare, Emma Watson doing something shockingly intelligent and artistic in academia and Rupert “Harry Potter’s Ron” Grint in the corner seat on Hollywood Squares.

Still, I love all three of ‘em…

 

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New Winterfell Sim Rises From Infernal Depths!

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Looking for land in Second Life? In the mood to build a screamingly chic gothic castle, chain a few virgins in the dungeon and invite the neighbors over for coffee and Ghoul Scout cookies? Need that perfect estate on a remote promontory to brood in dashing, mysterious peace as you attempt to solve the riddle of instilling life in lifeless matter and/or how to mix the ideal Banana Daiquiri?

Then you are in LUCK! A brand new Sim is opening in Winterfell, the home for all things a bit on the deliciously macabre side in Second Life – Ravens Reach!

Read on to see the official press release and order your parcel TODAY! Contact Serra Anansi in SL for more information.

No one boring, mundane or namby-pamby need apply. Void where prohibited.

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More Words to Live By

Someday, I am going to get this statement tattooed on my chest.

I mean it.

..Seriously.

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An Architectural Digression

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The Bridge

The bridge looms large in my mind still…the bridge.

Stone saints dancing and dying along the bridge while streetcorner Rembrandts hustle amidst the fading pillars.

The bridge started so long away, spanning more than I pretend to understand, to take me somewhere I cannot go until I’ve been there in my childhood.

The bridge cuts through my dreams as I stare up at each chalk white face, each hard mouth whispering salvation to me.

So many figures line the bridge, so many faceless coats push and shove.

Yet on the bridge, I am always alone, alone with my ghosts.

The bridge…the bridge looms large today.

Binge Apostling

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I admit, I am really not sure what to make of this one.

It seems that some academics, having nothing much else to do, decided to compare artistic representations of The Last Supper. They were not looking for anything of great theological import…no signs that Judas was giggling and making evil faces in the back, or looking for Jame’s bra strap, or even trying to work out who got stuck with the bill. No, they were examining…the portion sizes.

I mean it, I couldn’t make this stuff up. The portion sizes at The Last Supper. Read on and see.

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Words to Live By

To be honest, I have sort of based my entire life around these two simple rules.

 

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