Thursday, February 28, 2019

Jax the dog. Nov 09 - Feb 19

Oh hi, punching-blog.
Been a while since I ripped your heart out so let's do that for funsy's. Not like I'm finishing this book anytime soon. You know, the one that will rip out the entire world's heart.


That time Jax helped me fix my computer

Last week Jax barfed on the carpet. That's not too uncommon. His motto is "Have carpet, will barf." But he got pickier about food around that time, too. He grew progressively more lethargic and showed less and less appetite. Saturday it became obvious he was somehow growing skinnier and fatter at the same time. I figured parasites were munching down on the nutrients meant for him and a good purging would set him straight. So Sunday I took him to the emergency vet. I expected them to scold me for going unprotected from gut worms for so long, then send me on my way with some pills to shove down his throat. Instead she quietly explained he's riddled with cancer and has less than a week to live.

Wild Jax MacGillacuddy

Tough blow, that.
I love that doggle. He's 9 years and 3 months old, and apparently it's common for labs to arrive at this dismal destination, even if they're 1/4 pit bull like my boy.
It wasn't until I told the vet that I had a hard talk with my 7-year old ahead of me that her eyes grew shiny, at which point so did mine.

Boyo loved Jax from day 1*
(* except maybe on the days when Jax's excited tail swung like a tree limb,
bashing him across the bridge of his nose and laying him flat)

Simon took the news well enough I suppose. He's got some experience with death already (more than his share if you ask me) having lost his grandy, his distant uncle Steve, his uncouth uncle Craig, and his baby sister Evie.

Guard doggle & Simon with his accessories

Simon unloading his day's burdens on the best listener I've ever known

... also the best snuggler.

I told Simon Jax is old and has slowed down, you know, like old people do. And unfortunately it turns out doggy-rog doesn't have much longer to live. Simon was quiet, thoughtful, unhappy. I apologized for delivering such hard news, explaining that I just wanted him to get some snugs in while he could. I gave the boyo a hug and he whispered, "Don't apologize."

We took Jax to his aunt Mandi's house on Monday and Tuesday. She served him whatever food he wanted, paid him constant attention, and even gave him some solid make-out sessions (it's legal in Ga). We all knew he'd not live out the week, or even half of it. He was getting weaker daily. Cancer, that impatient c*#t, was ready to have my baby doggy. So my wife and I told cancer f$%# you and we scheduled a home visit from our local animal hospital's angel of death.

Yesterday morning Dr. Death and her technician arrived to kill my dog before cancer could do its work. Jax had been snoring with his massive head on my wife's lap. We held his face and comforted him while the doctors performed their magic with tenderness and love. They made Jax's belly stop hurting and helped him finally get comfortable again.
When they'd finished, and the vet removed her stethoscope and set it aside, we held him a moment longer. Then we wrapped him in one of his favorite blankets. The vet and her tech helped us carry my big boy out to the backyard, to the hole I dug Tuesday night. They left. I covered Jax's face. My wife and I buried him.

Jax had a full, adventurous life. And when his prime abandoned him and his condition promised to only terminally worsen, we gave him graceful passage. There is solace to be found knowing this is not something my wife and I could have feasibly prevented.
Doesn't make it easier.


So who was Jax?

short answer: Jax the dog set an impossible standard and ruined me for any future pet doggo.

...But you're not here for a short answer. You're here because you love it when I talk too much.


Jax has always loved adventuring. When we hiked in the woods he wore nothing. No collar, no leash, and we never took trails. Always straight wilderness. The loster the better. He always led the way and was always one whistle away, even if you couldn't see or hear him. If you turned around or changed course, he'd know it and would appear in front of you, scouting, always scouting.

Me, Jax, Donavon (Firstborne)
As much as Jax loved the river he hated kayaking. HATED it.
I took him twice. He cried the whole time, for every mile of both trips.

If there was a turtle in the woods,
Jax would find it and alert you by barking at it point-blank until you made him stop.

And if there was mud to be found, he'd dress himself in it.

He didn't share a human's cowardly hesitation to plop down in whatever kind of filth crossed his path.

At Jax's first house, he learned his name. We learned the phrase "severe separation anxiety" since he would wail at the top of his baby doggy lungs if you left his direct line of sight.

That silver bowl right there served him the duration of his life.

He liked standing on me when he was little.

Campy McDoggo

Don't judge. You'd sleep there too if you could fit.

Born with the bluest eyes.

At Jax's second house we had a large yard. Here he'd run and run and run and play with the neighbor dogs (whether they liked it or not). He'd catch tennis balls, baseballs, sticks, rabbits, possums... one time a skunk.

Jax was a straight beast at catching balls...
And if you think that doesn't sound right then get your mind out of the gutter, David.

Life hack: A cold nose is more effective than any alarm clock.

... but if that doesn't work, Jax had no problem mercilessly crushing your throat with his enormous head

Our most recent house had a puny yard, but was walking distance from the lake.
Have I mentioned Jax is part fish?
Classic joke, David. Good one.
Hey thanks.

He fished.
His success rate was nothing to brag on perhaps but I wanna see you try his technique and come up chewing fish! 

Just rocking out.
*David excuses himself*

Look at that murky beast clambering out of the water to eat your guts!

"You best wipe that deer smirk off your stupid leaf-chewing face or I'll come wipe it off for you!"

"I'm sorry! It was a joke! Where's your sense of humor you rabid ungulate!"

It was the same weekend that we moved into our new house that Jax was diagnosed. He never got the chance to track mud all over it, or have an accident behind the couch or chair or shelf. He would have loved the yard, though. And that is where he now rests.

When we get around to finding another wee little soul to join us for too few years, he will have large paw prints to fill.

Doggle, Firstborne, Boyo

Love you, Jax. You're a good boy.

Thursday, February 7, 2019

Research Record - February 2019

Time for one of these beauties. Strap in because it's a long one! And thick!!

David. Are these research records simultaneously a resuscitation attempt for this desolation that your blog has become and also a means of procrastinating versus writing Turesia?

Yes. Wait, No. Wait, what was the question? Hey look a bird!

~      ~    ~  ~  ~    ~      ~

I had to wade through a lot of shite to narrow this list down to the pertinent and sensational (the two most common words used to describe Research Record). My Google activity is all muddied since I've been DIY finishing building a house and bogged down in the IT work that pays me and also raising a little red one.
You're freaking welcome.

Looks like with the death of G+ or Google + or whatever it's called my blog might be affected. Maybe if I came here more often than twice every billion years I'd be more concerned. Not to disrespect my loyal audience. The 1.5 of you frequenters (and that's on a BUSY week) mean the whole world to me, which is why I'm here now. But I'm just more active elsewhere online lately. (and by elsewhere I mean nowhere)

Google Searches of Note

Pay an influencer to promote your novel
What can I say? I binged both Hulu and Netflix's documentaries on the Fyre Festival. And if there's one thing that shitshow did right, it was the initial advertising.

Final Fantasy concept art
Yoshitaka Amano is brilliant and I want his art hung all over my house.
Final Fantasy VI art - Yoshitaka Amano

Caribbean Monk Seal
Because I have to rename my Orcanes. :( The monk seal shows up if you google wolf seal. Those names lack the punch I'm after.

Size difference between Ancalagon the Black and Smaug
"ankal3gon" has been a screen name of mine for some time. Not long ago I got in an Ancalagon versus Smaug conversation. You know, like ya do. Well let me tell ya! *huh huh huh huh* It didn't go so well for the Smaug enthusiast!!!!!!!!!
*pushes glasses up nose while catching stray saliva dribbling down chin and wonders what getting laid is like*

Is RAM hot-swappable?
Heh heh heh. Of course it is.

Urban jungle located in Taipei, Taiwan
I. am. obsessed. I get inspired by every shot I see of this locale and the now defunct,
Kowloon Walled City
Look up pictures of these places. Get familiar if you find yourself intrigued. They are amazing and unbelievable.
Taipei, Taiwan. Credit to photographer Andreas Mass.

panoramic of Kowloon Walled City
(or "inspiration for every over-crowded dystopian city ever")

"There is nothing new under the sun"
Is a line from my favorite book in the Bible, Ecclesiastes. Quite a nihilistic book, if you ask me. That search led me to Pseudepigrapha (down under Wikipedia)

It's Hawaiian for damaged.
[story time] After reading Kings of Paradise by Richard Nell I realized I had to rename Kale. "Ino" is one of the options... and it's sorta sticking. Interestingly, it means wild boar in Japanese. Kale (Ino) fights one of those in my story. Well, not exactly a wild boar, more like a daeodon.
*also considered Borecole and Arugula for alt names. Neither fit.

How much does the avg poop weigh?
During my first adventure with magnesium citrate (shit-right) I weighed myself before and after the big event. That's as much of that as probably ever needs to be uttered anywhere.

What's worth watching on Showtime?
spoiler: nuffin.


Krampus - Not sure why I gave this ol' boy my attention recently. Probably had to do with Christmas. Or Binding of Isaac. Or some pithy quip on Facebuk.

Baritsu (or Bartitsu) - A 'Bruce Lee fighting style' search ended up here. Essentially if you're wearing a coat and have a cane and a mustache, this fighting style is for you.

Pseudepigrapha - "Deutorocanonical works produced 300BC-300AD, perhaps attributed to authors falsely" or something like that. Included in this classification is the Book of Enoch (Enoch = Noah's grandpa) which has lots of interesting things to say about angels falling from heaven and demons and giants.

The format of these posts doesn't exactly lend itself to being tidily concluded, rather the end.

Monday, July 9, 2018

Help Judge SNES Music !

It's no surprise to anyone who's got a brain inside their face that I love video game music of all shapes and sizes, from 4-bit Gameboy tunes to orchestrated symphonies. I listen to it almost exclusively, when I write or am working or walking around or lying around or farting around or pretty much doing anything around.


I come from a land (down undah) near to Athens Ga: the birth place of a band called Bit Brigade.

image courtesy of the
Bit Brigade = 4 rockers + 1 gamer. The gamer speed runs NES classics (Ninja Gaiden, Mega Man 2, Castlevania, Legend of Zelda, Ducktales, Metroid?, etc) and the rockers rock the game's soundtrack at full blast, full speed. It is a unique show that I urge you to experience at least thrice. If you've ever dreamed of chanting "F*ck Dr. Wily!" in a tipsy hoard, this is your chance.


I ran into Jace, one of the guitarists, the other day in Athens at a DIP / Froggy Fresh show and he told me of a project he and some friends have going on. 
That brings us to here and now and (you guessed it) my point.

This is a website where two Super Nintendo songs are chosen at random (and I do mean random) and placed before thee. Thou listen to them and determine which of the two is superior, judging by whatever means you prefer. 

The end result of this project will be a huge mountain of unified feedback that one could reference to objectively deduce the BEST SUPER NINTENDO SONGS OF ALL TIME!!!

Here comes the alter call, for you 'vangelicals. If this sounds like your bag, y'oughta:

1. visit this site -
2. create yourself a profile
3. get to dueling!! Feed big bro some data and halp the wurld!

If'n you choose ta do it, lemme know in the comments so I can say Hay thanks! and give you a special surprise of nothing


Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Research Record - May 2018

Oh, hey David. Another of these...

Rite? Been a while, has'nit?

Not really. In fact, some might say it hasn't been long enough.

Well they can just go straight to hell! Part of today's haul is writing related (yes, for V&V / Turesia ). Part's not. Here we go!


Liquid chocolate spill in Poland - This is a real thing. Equal parts tragic and delicious.

Anunnaki - A friend of mine told me about this. It's alien stuff. That's as far as I've dug.

What is sausage skin made of?
I only ask because Kraus has to thoughtfully chew some, like a cow chewing its cud. Turns out it's mostly intestine.

Kingdom Death
Crazy expensive, nsfw, table-top RPG that I'd love to get into if I could solve the problems of money and time.

Pamplemousse - It means grapefruit but is way funner to say.

Toxic Razor Clams - These are real!

Zhangjiajie National Forest Park
This park shares a likeness with my vision for the Towers, north of Fohrvylda. Difference is, at the feet of the Towers isn't land, but the Faithless Sea. Look at it!

Image courtesy of this blog

Amazing restaurant in Anderson, SC. I had bangers and mash (and a couple of Irish brews) and it was delicious. Why are sausage links called bangers? I mean, I know why I'd call'em that, but I'm a couthless delinquent who snickers when people fart.

Robin Wright
I'm looking for a face for a character named Surah. Robin is not quite the fit. Surah is tough, mute, and a little younger. Images of Robin reveal her not only as a person with something to say, but willing to break your damn jaw if you talk back. I will write her into a book one day.

Research for monstahs!

If laughter is the best medicine jokes
I was looking for an original take on this phrase. I think I cut it in the end. It's been done to death.

Difference between male and female
Lemme just poke the ant bed for a moment.
There is mucho combat in this story that is oblivious to gender and although it's one thing to ignore gender differences between combatants, it's a different thing entirely to ignore weight differences and physics.

друг - Is Russian for friend and pronounced "droog."
What's interesting to me about this is that I'm writing a character who is sorta inspired by two crazy-ass friends of mine, both who've passed away. One's Droop (actual name Jason) and the other is Craig. If you combine their names, you might just get Droog...


Pretty quiet on the Wiki front this go-round.

Wulingyuan - I got here searching for Zhangjiajie National Forest Park.


See ya next time. Stay learnin'

Friday, February 16, 2018

Research Record - from Octo 2017

If for no other reason than one day fifty years from now I'll be curious (despite being long dead, along with the internet and written language), allow me to present, for my viewing pleasure...

another research record.

Eesh, stop cheering so loudly. I can barely hear myself think.

''` ~ `''

[this is actually from October. Seems I hit Save rather than Publish. Let's remedy that RIGHT now, shall weh?]

Story in Progress:


Google Searches of note:

Sweet. 44 search results total and none in English. Claimed!

It technically means reduce BY one tenth, but the common acceptable use, and my preferred use is to reduce TO one tenth. If only there were an actual word for this...

Sounds fiery. It's not.

Only 2,110 results. Kind of high for me to hijack it. Maybe I'll change the spelling.

Bryce Dallas Howard
One time I found an image of her that perfectly embodied Syvea from Turesia. Her expression and pose painted a picture of frail innocence in a bloody, callous world.

What's a bloodstone?
I was curious

There are several pictures of Rihanna online that represent Magister Obsydia frighteningly well. Her eyes and mouth have no trouble projecting an emotion of lofty royalty. She appears as comfortable as she is commanding, and all with more than a little skin exposed. Did I mention she's hot.

What does a magpie sound like?
Because I was curious.

Are sharks in Irma?

Waterfall to the ocean
I needed imagery

Map of medieval Scandinavia
I needed more imagery

Does lettuce make you poop?

Define sanguine
Bloody, but less likely to be mistaken for a British "darn"

What fish did vikings eat?
Lots of better ways to learn this probably. But it worked.

Wikipedia Searches of note:

This can work for the story, but I've never liked the word itself...

I guess I could just say tuna and everyone would know what I was talking about

Looks gross and seems really complicated to prepare

Fourth Dimension
Gotta brush up on this sort of subject now and then

Sod House
Because that's what most of the homes in Fohrvylda are

Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs
Research for a simulation I'd like to build one day

Ground sloth
Research for monstahs!

Research for monstahs!

Research for monstahs!

Quantum Computing
Another subject I need refreshers on now and then

List of Demons in Ars Goetia
Research for monstahs?

Research for monstahs!

I've always been fascinated in the sorts of a screaming plants that flourish in the blood, shit, and semen crusted soil beneath the gallows.

Research for monstahs!


See ya next time


Saturday, August 19, 2017

How a Writing Group saved Turesia* (and possibly Silexare)

*working title. I ain't sayin' its real title yet. 

Here's my two cents on writing groups and, please believe:  it    is      wordy.
I'm not covering finer points because I don't have the authority for that. Just gonna tell the tale of how I broke down and succumbed and how good a decision that was.

Uergatas, captured by Beastmaster Grimmet to battle in Keswal
concept art by Jason Tasi

I've been conceptualizing, dreaming of, and working on Turesia for... a long freaking time.

Before I published A Sawmill's Hope, at a point when I was pretty sick of looking at it, I became inflicted with another story. It was inspired by a whirlwind of ideas. The combat and rivalries of UFC fights. The unlimited lives of games like Super Mario Brothers. An archipelago nation in civil war that has been split such that the brutes are on one side and the magicians are on another. And, as is becoming usual for me, a tragic fairy tale.

I wrote a very rough draft for Turesia. It was about 60,000 words, roughly 180 pages, the length of a short novel. Then I stumbled upon Joe Abercrombie's The Blade Itself. It blew my mind. I proceeded to blaze through the First Law trilogy, getting an education on tight third-person point of view. With this knowledge (albeit in infant stage), I plopped my ass down to rewrite A Sawmill's Hope. Thirteen agent rejections and a Kickstarter later, ASH came to life.

During that year, Turesia lay dormant. Neglected. Stephen King has commented on the danger of letting a work in progress stagnate and he was right. I loved the potential in my draft. I loved the characters and setting and monsters. But when I came back to it, my draft was a mess. And igniting my passion for the story felt like trying to crank a chainsaw underwater.

Memories of how I imagined the story were vague at best. I had scattered notes and a wildly inconsistent draft. I tried starting it again and again, experimenting with different ideas and approaching the story from different angles and viewpoints. I tweaked scenes, characters, the magic system. I trashed every scene I wrote. Nothing worked.

I almost scrapped the story more than once. I questioned whether being a writer was even a thing I could do, considering how insurmountable the process had become.

Brandon Sanderson, the robot that types out a ten-pound cinder block of a novel every other Tuesday, has preached on the significance of writing groups. I'd been reluctant to the idea of writing groups. Among my more unrealistic (and laughably delusional) fears were:
Show my million-dollar ideas to strangers so they can snatch and run?
Take on the responsibility of educating plebeians to reach my lofty level of literary luminosity?

More realistically, if I can't make progress in the story with the time I have, committing to critiquing someone else's writing is the last thing I should do.

Turns out I was wrong. All the way.

One year ago today my coworker Ben and I sat down for lunch at the only Mexican restaurant in the town I work. We hashed out ideas and agreed to swap an excerpt, chapter, or scene (typically not to exceed 5k words) every Friday. We'd meet the following Friday with our own feedback on what we were given and a new scene to hand over. Or goal was to simply remark on to the other person's excerpt. Not really suggest fixes or improvements, just react. "I was confused here." or "I didn't buy this." or "This was hilarious." or "This bored me." That sort.

Well, it worked. Since August 19th, 2016 we've met every Friday minus maybe eight for holidays and vacations. I've written about 140,000 late-draft level words. While that may feel like a low rate, I rejoice in it. This pseudo-deadline has benefited my consistency in writing more than any passion or idea ever has. I have a job that requires me to be on call after hours. I have a wife, and two sons that I want to spend all my spare time with. I'm a member of two bands that, together, keep me active on the bass.

Ben has finished enough short stories to be ready to publish a collection. His style is more science fiction / suspense, particularly near-future. Mine is gritty fantasy that takes place in Silexare. But since we're both readers at heart, there is no judgment or discrimination going on. We're able to see the potential in each others' works and enjoy the stories and scenes for what they are.

Before this becomes novel-length, here's some take away:

"Story Time" Pros:
-A deadline makes me write
-Ben's input is clever and useful
-Critiquing Ben's work bolsters my chops at critiquing my own
-Mexican food for lunch every Friday

"Story Time" Cons:
-I'll have to add these as they occur to me. The roughly $6 lunch bill every week is insignificant.

Hit me with your questions in the comments. I've blathered long enough.

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Research Record - June 2017

'Hey, Dabid!'


'On what obscure subjects have you been self-educating lately, mein Dave?'

Oh praises be. I'm so relieved that you care. If not, this post would be an embarrassingly empty endeavor, wouldn't it?

'Not necessarily. I mean-'

Well, wouldn't it?




*David flips table, becomes a werewolf, scours groin with tongue*


Story in Progress:


Wikipedia Searches of note:

Not as useful a reference as the book I'm reading. (see below)

I just needed some specifics on Fohrvylda's most common trees.

Falconry Training and Technique
I'd love to sit down and kick it with a falconry pro. I have many questions on this subject, all because of the beastmaster's son, who trains sprakes. I found this site, which is pretty informative.

Ragnar Lodbrok Children
Wife and I have gotten into History Channel's The Vikings again and I was curious about the fate of Ragnar's kids.

Google Searches of note:

Harpy Eagle
Between this raptor and the osprey, I have enough reference and inspiration to create my precious sprakes. (Check out my sweet stash of sprake nudes)

Collective nouns for birds
Here's the website I ended up choosing as a reference. Enjoy.

What does hawk poop smell like?
I found no definitive answer. Still looking. If you're knowledgeable on this, or how osprey poop smells, please let me know in the comments.
:::EDIT: Holy hamster look what I just found:::

Can I use a hawk to track a person?
Found no definitive answer on this either. All I do know for sure is that if it is possible, raptors wouldn't rely heavily on their sense of smell to do it. So it would have to be visual or sound. Visual is what I'm leaning toward, since in Fohrvylda there is currently no way to record audio. Luckily, the person being tracked is quite famous, and her fans have created art in her likeness.

Fohrvylda's aviary is the beastmaster's son's favorite place to be. The only place he's understood. If only he had wings of his own.
The images of aviaries I've found online have not been as grand as Fohrvylda's. I wish I could draw...

Sophia Bush
Yes, the actor. This is one of the few things that has not changed since I started writing this story. The Sophia from One Tree Hill era (I don't follow the show) is an ideal visual representation of Irdessa the Undying. She's pretty, but not strikingly so. Good smile, good scowl, has dark wavy hair.

There's a cool phrase about cowards and fools that was incorrectly attributed to Thucydides. I love the phrase. It, in some variation, it could be considered a theme of Turesia. Shame it wasn't written by Thucy.

How to maintain leather
Just curious. I figure if two characters in leather armor hike through shallow ocean water all night they might need to do some maintenance on their gear in the AM.

Books Referenced: 

"Vikings: A history of the Norse people" by Martin J. Dougherty
It's pretty basic but has a lot of useful insight. Fohrvylda is not medieval Scandinavia but there are enough similarities to make this book helpful while I'm writing about food, locales, building methods, weapons, etc.