I got to keep on ramblin'

12:44pm: Moving again...
Yes. Again.
360.yahoo.com/darius.keel
Don't let me hear you bitching.

1:29am: Everquest
The MMO itch has returned and I've decided to start the grind over in a game that started this whole mess. UO never took hold, but EQ was the one to keep me dry-eyed at 3am. Now, not wanting to spend the 15 dollars to reactive my WoW account, I've decided to fall back on my uncle's ongoing EQ account.
Most like that it'll turn me off the second I turn it on, realizing that it's nothing but a treadmill and I can get on with my life. Right?
Anyone?

11:59pm: ..does it again.


We've tried to explain why sex is a normal, healthy human urge. The sexual imagination is a normal part of healthy human life. Actually, going to some foreign hellhole and getting killed or killing people who are just the same as you other than an accident of geography -- that is not natural. Yes, they're things we've been doing a long time, but it doesn't mean they're natural and it doesn't mean that they're right.
                                     -- Alan Moore


[Click the picture to read the Playboy interview.]

11:25pm: November 20 "What Every Poem Needs"

Hey: it's all poetry.

Today's exercise is courtesy of Cathleen Calbert, a poet and fiction
writer who lives in Providence, Rhode Island.

Marilyn
Nelson begins “Fish Poem,” with the lines

Every poem

worth its salt

should have its own fish.

Write a poem in which you explore what you think every poem
needs. You could begin “Every poem should have . . . .”


This assignment is meant to be an exploration of your aesthetic,
of what’s important to you poetically. It’s also an
invitation to wild freedom and to serious playfulness. You might
list some weird things first. Then find an item that’s more
than “simply” nonsensical. You might write, for example,
“Every poem needs rat vomit in it.” Well, okay. But
do you have something to say about that? Hmm. Maybe you do. Maybe
you’re trying to make a point about including the ugliness
of the world in poetry, maybe you really don’t like “genteel”
poems that seem to you rarified or pretentious. So maybe this
really is the beginning of your poem. You can try eyes, feet,
a lie, a surprise, a small gray cat . . . . whatever you like.
What does every poem need?

Every poem
should stop
all the cryptic bullshit.

Truly, every poem
should die
and burn in a firepit.

Fuck this exercise.

5:45pm: Christmas List
The Left Hand of Darkness Price: $2.50
Chosen Price: $4.98
Alan Moore's Writing For Comics Price: $5.95
Red Razors Price: $5.95
The Ice Dragon Price: $5.99
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance Price: $7.99
Girls, Vol. 2 Price: $ 10.19
Promethea (Book 1) Price: $10.19
Walking Dead Vol. 6 Price: $10.39
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep Price: $11.16
No Country For Old Men Price: $11.20
The Minority Report Price: $11.21
Wolverine: Enemy of the State Price: 11.24
Brit Price: $13.49
The Hedge Knight Price: $13.59
The Great War for Civilisation Price: $13.60
Crooked Little Vein Price: $14.93
Alan Moore's Hypothetical Lizard Limited Edition Price: $16.49
Alan Moore's Magic Words Volume 1 Price: $16.95
The League of Extraordinary Gentleman: The Black Dossier Price: $17.99
Rolling Stones Circus Price: $18.99
Vampirella: The Morrison/Millar Collection Price: $22.95
Invincible: The Ultimate Collection, Vol. 1 Price: $23.07
Sennheiser Headphones Price: $42.74
RAM Price: $97.99
Video Card Price: $289.99
Note: This isn't a list for readers of this blog, but for family members who don't know what to get me.

1:35am: November 18 - "The Lamp"

            This is an exercise in generating imagery, highly specific descriptive
            detail and, possibly, story material. Pick a lamp --- the lamp
            in front of you, or some other lamp, or an imaginary lamp. Now
            describe it. Be sure to mention colors, textures, any smells,
            any noises it might make (how about if you dropped it?). Does
            it smell? (Can you sniff it?) Be sure to include its shape and
            size. What is it bigger than? Smaller than? Shorter than? Taller
            than? Name all of its parts. Describe the shape of the light
            it casts against the wall, the floor, any objects, etc. Does
            the lamp have a story? How old is the lamp? What do you think
            of this lamp? What would your best friend think of this lamp?
            What might happen to this lamp in the future? Who made this lamp?
            What did it cost? Where was it purchased? If you were to give
            the lamp a name, the way you might name a dog, what would it
            be? etc. Stay with the lamp for the full 5 minutes.

3:49am: GAH!
PHASE!

2:11am: And again.
Hangin' on a wire
Hangin' on a thread
No matter how many places to tread
Can't remember all the places people faces I've been
Feels like I'm walkin' miles
And every town lacks a smile
Another hope another place
But really just wanted to see your face
One last time before I go

Bet you didn't know
That you were worth the journey
Even if it takes a gurney
One of these places one of these times
We'll understand rhythms and rhymes
Everything will make sense
We won't meet with pretense
Or assumptions that cause rifts
And never lie with golden gifts
Brought intertwined in hate.


I  write this with three strings
Can't you hear them ring
Sacrificing flesh and sleep
Using bounds and leaps
The wires grow tight
Try with all your might
It won't make this wait
Any easier to swallow

Each has to agree
What they want to be
And make sense and
love for us 'n you 'n me

Love for us 'n you 'n me

2:07am: Time keeps on slippin'
And life takes another potentially nasty turn because of my immaturity. That just felt really good to admit that, but it doesn't solve a damned thing. Too bad I'm not some sort of escape artist. Tomorrow must be a success or the next day will be a failure.
Also, Mickey died today.
And I don't know what to think about that. Looks to be a funeral soon with old faces that won't disappear however much I think they should.
And what if I really did get the balls to ship off to another city in search of that metaphysical concept called "happiness"?
And what if I keep running the rest of my life.



"Everybody come alive,
 Everybody live alive,
 Everybody love alive,
 Everybody hear my message,
 It's a message to love."

2:18pm: "Hey Mr. Tambourine Man..."
It's funny how everything distorts with age
it's just a book turnin' another page
it's alright, bubba, no need for these ruminations
or rage.
"The only thing I knew how to do was keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew..."

1:54am: Nothing really mattered..
... when everything suddenly became beautiful again.
Buy it or don't, but listen to it nevertheless.

9:31am: "Uncle Bub...
... where do babies come from?"

3:19am: Dreams..
..of a far-away city plague my work-addled mind. This crazy schedule of mixed-up day/night shifts has left me disenchanted (to say the least), and certain nights I'm simply too amped to submit myself to the Realm Beyond the Eyelids. That last sentence proves that I've surrounded myself in far too much George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. Four of the seven novels have been released and I find myself distraught that I'll finish the fourth and have to wait for the fifth's release...
However, anyone looking for a great read (even if you're not into fantasy) should give A Game of Thrones (the first book) a whirl. Seriously. I'm not kidding. Yes, a fantasy book.  TRY IT BEFORE YOU JUDGE ME.
Oh God, I need sleep.

10:50pm: "It's like someone told you how bad meth was, and you just got more excited to try it."
Sis mused over a cigarette. Honestly, I'd heard of the many horrors of Civilization,

3:37am: Truth-tv.org
Why is the day never enough?

12:30am: Knocked up.
..is a fantastic movie and I encourage ya'll to take a moment out of your busy lives to watch it.

2:33am: Impersonality
And I'm back. After reviewing my new (old) blog over at 1up I noticed that my blog had become an advertisement of sorts. This revelation was probably in light of my wandering-Wal-Mart-thoughts about how much propaganda one views in a nine hour shift.
Moving forward, all three of my loyal readers (an all-time high!) were left with the sadly amusing tale of Kasey's injury.
Outstanding events or developments:
-Quit smoking 3.2 times.
-Played copious amounts of games, especially on the shiny PS3 below my television.
-Fought desolation and sobriety while Arikka took 2 vacations.
-Drooled over Wrath of the Lich King and MGS4 more times than is healthy.
-Sold my DS.
-Pined for a Wii until the realization that Nintendo's coffers overflow from casual gamers. :\
-Observed Vonnegut's place in my heart, yet again, after joining the Greenville library.
-A rather eventful dinner with Becky, Arikka, Kasey, and myself involving pancakes by the pound and a pot of coffee roiling in my intestines.
-The drunken drive-in theater trips faded with the summer, only to be replaced by drunken jam sessions. Guitars will squeal.
{{{{{{{{In less than 7 hours I'm clocking in at Wal-Mart, so I'll finish this here blog post tomorrow....}}}}
Nevermind. Fuck this post. [Tuesday, Sept. 25 edit]

5:35am: Moving...
Well kiddos, future blog posts are going to be located at tehkeel.1up.com. I'd like to link these two, but only post to the one blog. 1up has kept my traffic for at least 2 years (maybe more) now and as it's the house of my two favorite gaming magazines. See you at 1up!

7:31pm: Kasey
Let me tell you about the time the girls stole the fastest golf cart from the Po Barn. They had ruined our plan; our method of escape. How could one make a quick getaway from the day's planned mischief without the absolute fastest escape? After trying desperately to bargain with the cretins we decided that action must be taken. Unfortunately, this involved nonviolent action as his father could not be aware or involved in any way. We began plotting out routes and discussing the best plan of action. One thing was decided for sure: Kasey would be on bike while I drove the golf cart. I was a mere distraction in Kasey's scheme to take back what was rightfully ours.
Above all, we must be patient and clear of mind. To understand the enemy, one must become the enemy. Watching from the safety of the trees a pattern began to form. They were playing a game of sorts; stopping every couple of minutes to collect flower pots from the greenhouses. This was our opening.
I left with haste while Kasey paced behind. We made various passes, getting closer and closer. Finally, the time to strike came upon us. I drove the golf cart in front of them so they could see me coming. Kasey pumped the pedals fast staring at the goal ahead of him. I began to yell at the wenches so as to distract them from Kasey's silent strike. Close now, Kasey ditched his bike in a nearby greenhouse. The girls turned around to see Kasey, eyes bloodshot and wide, running at them full speed. Panicking, they turned tail and escaped with the golf cart.
Kasey was furious with veins pumping venom and lungs breathing fire. He would not be stopped. The sun was falling quickly and his plans must take shape.
"Follow them and I'll stop them on my bike! Go!" he barked. I turned the golf cart around and hit the gas. The motor screamed curses at me over the harsh wind. I spotted the girls about a quarter of a mile down the farm and aimed towards them. Sighted, they took note and promptly sped up. They had the faster vehicle, yes, but they did not possess the driving ability. Cutting corners sharply and never stopping to brake the cart I caught up to them. Kasey was flailing his legs up and down wildly on his bike on the road opposite of us. Fortunately this time they didn't see him as he reached his cutoff point. The girls were screaming but their cries couldn't be heard over the whining motors. Ahead of us the girls had two paths: one that led to the safety of the farm and one that led to the other side of the property. I had to make them go towards the house so as to trap them in Kasey's ambush. Flying like mad my cart rear ended them. As the fork in the road approached I veered sharply to the right, cutting them off and making them go back into the farm. There Kasey waited on his bike to end their escape. Unfortunately, this time, they didn't see him. Kasey's jaw clenched bracing for the impact and the witches' mouths and eyes took the shape of large saucers. The plastic bumper crunched as Kasey flipped torso over head and onto the guilty driver before making a final drop over the side of the cart. The slap of packed dirt and jagged rocks on Kasey's spine snapped everyone back into chaos. The perpetrators yelled at me while I tried to ask him where it hurt. This pain was more than tears; it was the shame of defeat. A pact was made to keep his father out of any of the events that happened today, and the girls agreed with much alacrity. Kasey took a hold of my neck with his left hand and we both limped back in silent defeat.

1:05am: ...and I still have internet access..
SM0KEWEED has logged in.
Like a zephyr floating in, Kevin has joined me on Xbox Live. I remember trying to find friends so desperately that I, in a way, "settled" for my coworker whom constantly bemoaned his duties. Not really an annoyance, but someone that was an escape from the constant pressures of Saltgrass. Turns out we both liked similar video games, one thing led to another, and I was hanging out at his house.
Through his angry demeanor Kevin started to reveal his troubles to me. I quickly learned that we were truly from two different camps of thought. He had a charging id type of personality that really didn't take a lot of shit from others.
Naturally, I ended up visiting him time and time again to experience something a bit off the beaten path from my regular friends. This is nothing new to me, as most of my friends tend to be vastly different than the next. One friend is a bubbly socialite while the next is an antisocial gamer while the next is a psych major interested in discussing the finer points of Jung's philosophy.
Now that I've seen it all in retrospect, I think it was his stories that had me addicted. Kevin's flee from one of the U.S.'s finest chef schools or the bad trip on mushrooms where the sky chased him for hours. Even the time that I picked a little too far and lent a sympathetic ear while he told me of his mother's tragic death. Perhaps it's simply my imagination, but I believe that someone who tells such a tragic story has a trust that is indefinite.
The real question is: Why do I not talk to him on Live? Why do we simply keep a code of silence and not acknowledge each other's prescence. I distinctly remember a phone call before my trip home that involved a clear invitation to his house. Perhaps it's because I've left his lifestyle choices in the dust and don't want to risk falling back in? Maybe I fear the "special" brand that had me sitting in my car outside his apartment for hours fearing that the neighbors were watching me and it wouldn't be long before the police were upon me...
Whatever the problem, it must be solved.

4:43am: Too Human
Well folks, the computer's leaving for good. Thanks for anyone who stopped by; hope you had some laughs.

3:27am: Changes
These last messages remain a testament to my truths. Truths that are not always self-evident but rather a testament to the feeling that I possessed in that exact moment.
Any post high school ramblings that have been jotted down in notebooks, blogs, letters, emails, or any surface that allows ink all speak for one thing that I have not made clear to myself.
I, Darius Keel, desire change. No longer satisfied with the trappings of this conventional hell I have wrapped myself into, I know that I must change.
Will I do it? Will these changes ever happen? Am I strong enough to break free?
Any post high school musical taste has reflected as such. No longer satisfied with music that allows a clever guise for the true nature of me, I have carefully inspected music that inspires freedom. One of my mantras over the past couple of years comes from a wonderful Queen song, "I Want to Break Free."
"God knows, I want to break free. Oh, how I want to break free."
The first time I heard this song was at Blockbuster in Rockwall, Texas. It was after the crowds had left and peace filled my body. I was alone with simple tasks, time to think, time to release. Somewhere through the din of commercials that flood the televisions lining the store walls came Freddie Mercury's voice with those wonderful words. Perhaps I had heard that particular song many times before, but that was truly the first time it had resonated with me. Still, years later I sit at this computer wondering the same damned thing I wondered then.
Yet, I feel a peace this time. No longer will this continue on. I will be self-realized and know what it means to be Darius B. Keel.
"I want to break free. I want to break free from your lies. You're so self-satisfied. I don't need you. God knows. God knows, I want to break free."

2:23am: Sigh...
WoWithdrawls have led me give Phantasy Star Universe a try again. Hopefully they've patched PSU enough to make it a semi-worthy sequel to one of my favorite games of all time (PSO).

1:45am: omglolwtf
Top 10 Most Wanted PC Games
Bioshock looks interesting, but it'll take a review or three to figure out if it's for me.
Crysis... dear God, please bless me with 500 dollars to buy a new stick of RAM coupled with a GeForce 8 series video card. Amen
Dragon Age! Bioware! Can't play Mass Effect on PC (until they release it three years later on PC, that is)! Thank you, Bioware!
Enemy Territory: Quake Wars may fill the Battlefield 2 void in my life...
Half-Life 2: Ep. 2, I suppose I'll have to play Ep. 1 to understand that one. Of course, it could be worth it anyways since it's packaged with Team Fortress 2 (!) and Portal (?...!).
Huxley.. meh.
Sporegasm. Will Wright, hold me.
Unreal Tournament III. Excuse my skepticism, but a full on evolution of UT2K4 is a pretty tall order to fill. Especially since those fucks concentrated all their efforts on Gears of War.

1:00am: Out of the gutter
It's all coming together. One final piece. I know I say this all the time, dear reader, but that's what life is. Valleys of highs and lows. Sometimes you speed through the highs and murk in the lows, but sometimes you actually sit back and realize the bright day is no mistake. Getting sappy during the first days of spring is a common ailment, but it's an affliction I welcome.
I never listened to John Mayer much, but my friend turned me on to John Mayer Trio. If you like blues with a power trio kick, pick it up (don't steal music!). Forget what you've heard before, it's Mayer making the music he wants to make. I doubt such a talented musician would want to be the preteen idol he has become, and Trio proves it. Listen.