Tag Archives: connection

C

23 Oct

I am that I tiger.

Wow. It’s crazy how far we’ve come, isn’t it? I mean, take a look.

We started with that review of that one movie with the dolls. Then, I said something I’d like to take back, and got lazy, and didn’t post for some time. After that, I came back and told a story, turned into more of a weirdo than usual. Then there was this poorly edited version of something I wrote, followed by another poorly edited version of something I wrote that is now way different, even in terms of plot, time periods, character development, dialogue, etc. So much stuff!

Man, what else did we do? Ah, that’s right! We went on a journey together, and you heard my voice and it was awkward. I wrote a bad ending, and watched an adequate show so you didn’t have to. We followed a goat, examined terrorism, false advertised, discussed knowledge, stayed up late, talked about you, got pissed about abortion, started, got pissed about each other (or I guess it was just me being a bitch or whatever), got pissed about some superhero movie, analyzed characters. Hell, we even got you to want to follow me on Twitter less than you already did! Oh, and something about 9/11, and loving you.

I think the last thing we discussed was racism, and I’ve been away a while. Don’t worry, I’m not disappearing. I just wanted to make sure I did something special for our hundredth time together. I couldn’t come up with much, honestly. Just remembering the good times with the Legendary Heroes and whatnot.

Okay, I guess that’s everything. Here’s something to read before you go to bed, or when you wake up, or whenever. Oh, and here’s a list.

Goodnight/good morning/good evening/good space/you all need to play Beyond: Two Souls.

 

~D.

C

P.S. – I think I left out something, but I feel like I shouldn’t talk about it for some reason.

 

P.P.S. – Look at this tiger.

Four More Years

23 Sep

This is matter. This is art.

Where we start is where we end,

And at the end, we start again.

We do this because it is fun

To make a game and have it won.

And see, that’s what all this stuff is:

The cat, the dog, the wife, the kids,

The house, the car, the book you wrote,

The pictures, the meals, that winter coat

You wore to your son’s baseball game

So you could watch his rise to fame.

You did it for your daughter, too

When, live onstage, she played the blues.

All these things, the art, the music,

They’re there for us to simply use it

And succeed at this game we made,

The one which forever we’ve played

Because of how much fun it’s been,

And also ’cause—hell—we love to win!

It’s how we roll. You know it’s true.

It’s how we live, me and you

And us all under the same roof,

Bound by ties that need no proof

Of existence. We know they’re there.

They’re why we love and why we care

About each other so much, so purely.

You understand why I’m saying this, surely?

Well, if you don’t, I’ll let you know

Why I’ve been speaking to you so

Oddly, in a fashion I don’t normally pick:

It’s my Fourth Anniversary! Come on, you pricks!

How could you forget the twenty-third,

In which I penned the very first words

That started our little game

Within the Great Game? What a shame

You should forget this day, the start

Of me talking to you through art,

And us building this powerful bond,

The kind that lasts forever strong.

But I know that you didn’t forget,

You only needed me to let

You know it’s okay to celebrate

This (obvious rhyme) momentous date

When you and I first became friends.

It’ll start here, end here, and start again,

Just as it’s always been with us.

We’ll make more games and build more trust,

And every year I’ll write a poem,

Which you’ll read on your screen at home.

And maybe you’ll write back to me,

And tell me how good it feels to be

Alive and powerful, all of those things

That this Great Game we’ve made eternally brings.

All right, I guess that’s where this story ends,

And, where it stops, another begins.

I’ve had fun, really, living these last four years with you.

Here’s to next quartet, goo goo g’joob.

 

~D.

 

P.S. – To trace the origin of the image at the top, this is the place to look. Good luck.