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Sep. 10th, 2005 @ 12:15 am violent fighting to come again!!
Current Mood: tired
Every man, no matter how feminine or sensitive or homosexual or biologically female, needs to be a man sometimes. A crude, obscene, filthy pig of a man, and fuckin' proud of it. Otherwise he suffocates in an ever-growing puddle of complacency, his wild warrior-artisan spirit violently strangled by the artificial tenderness of civilization. Tonight was one of those times for me, and does it ever feel good.

Multiple hours of arcade, SNES, and pen-and-paper geek talk. Pigging out on steak and potatoes at the Golden Corral in Elyria. Intense, intermediate-expert level, expletive-laden King of Fighters 2002 and 2003 matches back in Talcott. Oh man, King of Fighters--I hadn't played a serious game of King of Fighters since Ching-shih joined the Lord's Recovery monastery back in 2002. You can take a man out of the jungle, but you can't make him forget how to roll-jab-jab-SDM combo. Egative Nedge, cheap AI players, MAME roms and occasional visits to the arcade had done little to slake my thirst for deep, strategic simulated dueling, so today I drank deep and owned hard. I may be rusty, but the engine's still pumping, and I can still keep a skilled player on his toes.

A couple days ago, as I was walking down East Lorain, a truckful of drunken teenagers rolled down their windows as they careened past me, screaming "TITTIES!" as loud as their squeaky adolescent lungs would allow. I smiled, waved at them, and shouted, "BOOBS!"

And we shared a moment of understanding.

Thank you, Eric. Thank you, John Wiel, mysterious hairy uber-geek who lives above a dumpster in the sketchiest alley in Oberlin. Today, I am remasculated.
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Sep. 10th, 2005 @ 05:40 pm america is new to me again
Current Mood: domestic
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