Unicron slept.

The race of Transformers, though that is not what they were known then, waged tireless war with invaders from a nearby system. As war ravaged their home of Cybertron, the elder council, the Tripredacus, led by the thirteen Primes, foresaw their own extinction. They began the construction of the Arks and a powerful device that could open a bridge through space and time and usher the last of their kind away from their doomed world. And so it was that the greatest of the Arks carried seven of the Primes away from Cybertron and into the depths of the unknown void, in search of another world where they could rebuild. Each of the other six Primes took their own Ark away, each to a different world, all save one who would remain behind on Cybertron, the Sentinel of the Sleeping Primus, the Font of All Sparks.

So it was that Nemesis came, the Herald of the Dark God Unicron, to destroy the greatest of Arks. The Herald struck into the heart of the Ark and became one with the most powerful Prime, Megatron, and twisted it into the Champion of Unicron, Galvatron. Three other Primes were slaughtered as they slept before the Ark became alert and awakened the rest. Optimus, Magnus, Rodimus, these three Primes awakened to meet the Fallen Galvatron and battle him. The three hardly stood a chance. As Rodimus held Galvatron briefly at bay, the other two would sacrifice themselves and combine, forming Omega, who would become the Last Prime. He tore the Dark Spark from Galvatron and hurled him from the Ark and into the void.

But the damage had been done. Rodimus had suffered a fatal wound and the Ark was coming apart. Omega scanned the system and found a planet of mostly liquid surface that would offer the best chances for their crash landing. He set the Ark on course and collected the Primes’ Sparks into a Matrix that would keep their memories and wisdom safe from the Fall. As the Ark plummeted toward the third planet of the system, it broke into pieces, scattering the Transformers to the corners of the world.

Today I am hanging out on the corner of Sanity and Denial, seriously considering stopping in at the local corner store and picking up a pack of cigarettes and something to mix this shitty vodka with, but every time I move near the automatic sliding doors some black cat gets in my way. Now I don't want to think that I've become the kind of man to make excuses, but at this stage I realize that I'm buying lottery tickets. I haven't finished my book. I'm unemployed. My summer school classes were just dropped by my community college due to nonpayment. Well, that last one I can blame on the federal government, but what good has that done anyone? You know what? Self-loathing is not the powerful impetus towards alteration of the fundamental core of one's being that you might think it is. In fact, I'm finding it to be stifling. I tried blaming my dad for a while, then my mother; I blamed MTV for a few years. Is MTV even a thing anymore? I'm not having one of those power days, you know; we should go out and get some sun, maybe play volleyball or minigolf, but that should be another day. Not this day. Today, I'm just going to honor the veterans of this great country the only way I really know how. Tomorrow I'll walk into that crackerjack community college and make friends with the faculty. Who knows, maybe the old maxims are best. I don't think I've ever blogged once and successfully made a point.

I would be a fucking skinny guy if I didn't like beer so much.

Another year, another ex-turned-besty...

I'm back on the Internet. Proceed to celebrate. Conventionally, I would use this moment to make my triumphant return speech, but I feel that this would be a more personal time for me, so I want to get to know you better. After all, this isn't about me; it's about you. It's all about you. So tell me something. It doesn't have to be a terrible little secret; you can just share a fun fact or narrate a little tale, start up a dialogue or just tell me what gets you off. Not because I care, but because you do. Oh hush, I know you do.

Why is it so hard to convince myself that I'm not making a huge mistake?

Fuck it, why not do a little posty posty after a little drinky drinky? The fact of the matter is that I just don't think that anybody is actually going to read this. I gave up on Livejournal and rarely tweet beyond harassing one of the few SG's that I stalk (in addition to Wil Wheaton and Warren Ellis, of course) which leaves my facebook status which I still puritanically update in the third person (as in: This Guy is writing a status message that nobody will read) on relentless, needful habit. I'm thinking that habitual need would have been better just then. I don't know what it is; I'm too old to blame my old man for my lack of self-worth, but he's just such a blatant, easy target and I'm so damned lazy. Speaking of which, I'll get back to this later.

Too much of anything means nothing at all.

Zenevieve has a new set up in MR. Check it out and show her some love.

A tip of the hat to all of you who have somehow found a way to make life work without getting a jay oh bee working for the man. I admire your cunning, dedication and pluck. Yes, pluck. I also admire your fashion sense and wit. Winter is taking her toll on me; my throat is a ravaged wasteland and I find myself easily exhausted, but at least the depression hasn't been too brutal this year. I'm lucky. I have great friends and a fine family. I know a girl who loves me and takes care of me. I have a moderately sized television and my car hasn't stopped running, yet. It's a pretty good life. I think I'll make it better.