My body is a temple to a dark and ancient god.
Older than thought, its wisdom carved in my genes by a thousand and a thousand ancestors. It predates me, it will postdate me. It demands worship through cravings, through exhaustion, through pain.
To sate its dark hungers I must move, I must rest. I must feed, I must fast. It craves the stillness of clear water and green things from the earth.
Some of the concepts and terminology I’m about to use, as well as the title of the blog post, were lifted directly from here.
Having said that, I think I’m going to end up at a very different final destination than the original poster. So, credit where credit is due, but don’t feel compelled to read the original to understand my point.
King Power is money. I think the original article would try to lump in other things, like status, but one of my foundational operational primitives is that all of those things are fungible with money.
“What is soup, but a potion for the soul?”
— Ash
Another evening of memes with the wizards. Not saying any of them are particularly good, but we had fun. If intentional living sounds like your jam, take a peek.
What is a curse if not a dark gift?
Makin’ memes with the wizards.
Somewhere around five years ago I briefly entertained the idea that I was very seriously going to attempt to be an author. During that time I approached this the way I approach everything: with my whole entire ass.
Why half-ass anything when you can whole-ass one thing?
Which meant that, among other things, I read a lot of books on how to do writing good. Also, I tried to practice doing writing good.
If you know who this is, we should be friends.
Or enemies.
Or frenemies.
Me: “You’re Darmok, I’m Jalad, and together we are at Tanagra.”
Ash: “What? Oh, Star Wars.”
What’s up with me? Oh, just inventing a governance structure for a community of wizards. You?