Midnight Existential Angst (Revisited)

I wrote this two years ago today.  It’s truer now than then.

Midnight existential angst.  It is always at its apex when, in silence and under cover of darkness, one day supplants another.  Sleep recedes, drawing back like the tide of an ever quickening, warm ocean.

Freud wrote that we are driven by two basic needs: the sex urge and the desire to be great.  Is it a sign of advancing age that the latter eclipses the former?

When I was young, I chased young women.  But at midnight now my mind will chase the racing, red, flame-bright hare of purpose, that year by year gains distance from me with its burning slim legs, as the years ahead themselves grow fewer.



Throwback Thursday: the “Orcus” collectible miniature.

I did a Throwback Thursday post a while back about 1980’s-era T.S.R. fantasy miniatures — the kind you’d use in a game of Dungeons & Dragons.  “Orcus” here subsequently popped up in a Google image search.  (God only knows what I was looking for at the time.)

I had this guy in my collection as a kid.  The paint job I gave him left him looking quite inferior to the one pictured.  You can love a hobby without being good at it, and, I swear to you, my miniatures were not skillfully painted.  (My Dad and my older brother were just too kind to tell me.)  My Orcus looked like he’d been hand-painted by an epileptic child on a dangerously racing, rickety train with an idiot conductor that was about to fly right off the tracks.  (Like the “Trump Train,” for example.)  I wanted to paint him a fiery, blood-colored red, but he kinda just turned out with a bright, happy, flashy red, like maybe one of the Village People went trick-or-treating as the devil one year.

The Interwebs tell me that Orcus was a longstanding Big Bad in the D&D universe.  But he had no particular connection to the orcs.  He was the god of the undead, and he was named after the classical “Orcus,” one of the gods of the Roman underworld.

See how cool he looks below, when he’s properly painted?  Oh, well.



I’m supposed to be eating healthier.

But I just got back from shopping, and I’m pretty sure I bought ALL the Taco Bell.

I’ve occasionally run pictures of me on this blog, and, I swear to you, I am carefully endeavoring to hide my giNORmous pot belly.  I look like I’m pregnant.  I look like I have a beer belly, and I haven’t had a beer in years.  I look like my “spirit animal” is a pot-bellied pig.

I might just ask for help from the Internet community.  I might publish my cell phone number on this blog and on Facebook, and just ask everyone to call me at all hours of the day and night, and just scream at me to “STOP EATING SUGAR AND FATTY FOODS!!” And then just hang up.  That’ll teach me.

This madness has got to stop.

Also … you people could also scream at me to do my laundry on a timely basis, and to stop being such a prick about people’s religions.  (I could use some mellowing out.)