22 January 2006

The Trolls of Maine

Being a very poor and busy person, I rarely travel, but had the recent good fortune to go to a land called “Kittery, Maine”. I almost didn't come back from Kittery, but that wasn't because it was beautiful, well, it WAS beautiful, but that wasn't why I almost didn't come back. You see, up in that area (right over the border of Maine), there live clans of trolls (that's my name for people who live near the border). Now, being a ranger in D&D, my hatred of trolls cannot be merely confined to gaming sessions, and so I have to “let the bird out of the cage” just as if I were in character (my character and I being one and the same), so when I got there, I let the local trolls know that I'm a BIG troll hunter from good ole Massachusetts and that I don't take no shit from those rubbery jerks. Now, naturally, the trolls don't like this and they start to get antsy, especially when I start going from house to house spreading the word and causing scenes in local businesses. I must say right here that it really burns my ass that they allow them to call the dwellings 'houses' and the trinket collections 'shops'. I mean what the hell, people live in houses and run shops, not trolls. Sure, they might approximate the behavior, but if they started clucking, would we call 'em chickens? Anyway, so I'm giving them a good run, when I start to sense an impending attack. At the time I was cussing out what they call an 'eight year old girl' (I call it a troll-ling) with my finger in her face and her back arched over a picket fence. Damned if I wasn't about to get her to lose her balance and impale herself on that fence when a bunch of the other trolls gathered around and started making threats. Now, I didn't play D&D for all those years and not learn a little something about courage so I stood my ground with my back to them and told them that I would deal with them once I'd had my fill of the sack of shit in front of me. I thought that that would calm them down, you know, waiting turns and all – civilized PEOPLE do that - but not this time. For no reason, they went into a frenzy and charged, wielding rocks, bats, guns and knives. I didn't even know they had the cranial capacity to use firearms... Anyway, I managed to take a few out with my trusty Swiss army knife, but I didn't have any flasks of oil and they kept getting back up. That and their numbers were too strong, so I had to make a tactical withdrawal. I barely escaped back into human territory. Well, actually, barely escaping was my fault. I lost them in some woods and was walking along a road when I came to a lobster place. Being in Maine, I had to stop for one, and while I was eating it, the mob saw me and started chasing again. I shouldn't have gotten a three-pounder because it really slowed me down. A piece of advice - running top speed and getting a lobster tail open isn't easy. Oh, and don't do what I did - leave the melted butter there, it's very hard to keep that little cup from spilling onto your hand and shoes when you're dodging and weaving. Finally, I lost them again, and being close to the border I felt safe, so I went to get a haircut. Unfortunately, as soon as I walked in, there were several members of the mob right there. Apparently, they had decided to rest up and get haircuts as well, and they recognized me right off the bat. Speaking of bats, that's what one of them hurled at the tempting troll target called my head, barely missing me. It crashed through the window and pegged an old troll lady on the sidewalk, knocking her into the street where a troll mobile finished her off. In the excitement, I killed two more trolls with a shard of glass from the window and jumped into the troll mobile, the owner of which was trying in vain to devour what was left of the troll lady I assume. Well, he was reaching under the chassis where she was crushed. Ha! No more boom-boom for her... Anyway, right as I was coming out of the Lil' Peach across the street after getting some smokes for the ride home, I saw that the trolls had organized a motor pool and appeared to be looking for someone. Not thinking that they would recognize me in the troll mobile, I started moseying for the nearest highway exit. Unfortunately for me, they were smarter than I thought and a chase ensued. I was making great time until the bridge separating me from freedom where there was a roadblock of troll enforcers waiting. I was planning on cruising through them when they managed to ram me off the road and into a nearby sewer terminus pipe. Before they could get to my vehicle, I dashed off down the pipe, and underground, getting over the border of Maine. I was free and Maine couldn't touch me! Unable to contain my excitement, I did the package dance right there. But… Then the CHUDS came at me...

The Beast that is Malaise

People are often plagued by the terrible juxtaposition of their abilities and desire to do something and the seemingly frequent result of nothing actually materializing. It's not because we are weak or cowards or even jerks, as I have often thought myself to be and continue to do so. Rather, there is a less salient factor at work which binds us inimitably to inaction, which, at the very core of this morass is a moral, social and spiritual poison as deadly as any we use to kill insects and protect our luscious corn fields.
Why is this such a deadly poison? Because not only can we not see it, taste it or touch it, we can't even name it. We don't know what it is or why it is, but we certainly see and feel its designs. Twice as deadly is the tendency of this poison to be able to kill in more than one way. Left alone, it will wither the soul. Realized and brought into the light, it causes frustration, anxiety, suffocation and the madness of inescapability.
The tragedy of it though, is that it is a prison for your mind, not your actual life. I'm reminded of Revolution Number 9 – you say that it's the institution, well, you know, why don't you free your mind instead. Yeah, right, think outside the box. When you're in the box, you can't realize being out of it, 'the box' is the set of rules which define the game, or life as the situation may be. This is the insidious waste of time to me. What will make me happy is something I can't define, and if life is just more of this, which is how I perceive it to be... I don't know. And, that's the problem. Uncertainty is like a wet blanket, trapping you, cutting off your air. To make it worse, there's a beast chasing you - time. Time bites at you with regret and claws at you with loss. Realization is the greatest pain God ever inflicted upon man. It is far more destructive to our health and well being than any other force which governs us.
Not even the desire for smoothie comes close, and as all men know, many have lost much in that struggle.