I used to write on a WordPress based blogging platform. But, as much as I love this place, it’s simply too…slow? Too bogged down? Too choked, even? I honestly can’t put it in words, but while it’s reliable as all get out, it just feels so…something. Like the two of us have grown apart.

With that in mind, I searched. I tried other platforms. I even considered self hosting a wordpress suite. But in the end, I came up with a single idea:

I already host a blog dedicated to my dreams on tumblr. Why not host another dedicated to every day writing and life overall?

So, here we are. I, GWT, have jumped ship to Tumblr. Maybe I’ll enjoy my stay. Maybe I’ll go back to WordPress. Either way, here I am.

I’m GWT. And when I’m not sometimes sleeping, I usually write.

A large pig, in fact. Maybe even a hog. He was large enough to be a hog at the least, though I don’t know if there’s a recognizable size where a pig ceases to be a hog.

But sure enough, as I stepped out my house this morning, a pig greeted me. A large pig who sat outside my door, staring as I stared back.

At first, I was taken aback. What was it doing there? Why a pig? Was this some sort of strange metaphor of sorts? Maybe it was a god in the form of a pig.

That was before the pig righted itself on two legs, sauntered inside my house, and took a seat on my couch.

“You don’t mind me sitting here, do ya son?
His voice rolled out in a strange, lazy southern drawl. Somehow I expected this, but at the same time a pig speaking is something that you never can prepare for.

So, of course I didn’t mind. In fact, I offered him a drink.

“Sure thing, good boy,” He replied. “A little thing of Jack and Coke, hold the coke. Do ya mind if I smoke?”

At the word smoke, he had already pulled out a comically large cigar and lighter. God only knows where he stored it, and I was quite content to not interrogate.  By the time I gave my approval, he had already lit the thing, spreading a haze of smoke as thick as london fog through the living room.

Navigating through this miasma to deliver the drink, the pig gave a cheery “Thank ya,” before motioning I sit down. Taking a long drag and expelling another cloud over his shoulder – do pigs have shoulders? – he gave me a long hard look, one a father would give to his son at his death bed or before a long speech.

“Listen here boy, this is about your destiny,”  Try to not laugh at the idea of a cigar smoking, whiskey drinking pig talking about destiny. “Things are coming, things that mean you ill will. You have to defend yourself, Charlie.”

…Charlie?

“My name is Liam,” I said slowly, trying not to breathe in the smoke. “Are you, uh, looking for Charlie Perez?”

“…Uh…”

“He’s next door, Mister…uh…pig.”
“…I see. Carry on then, boy. This didn’t just happen.”
And with that, he picks up, gives a little bow, and makes his way to the door. Looking back to me as I fan the smoke around me, the pig chews on the back of his cigar one last time.

“…Thanks for the whiskey. If you hear monsters next door in the next week, just move along your day.”

One last gout of smoke and the pig is gone. I scratch my head in confusion.

“Maybe I should stop hanging out with people
who read eldritch lore.”

So, I bought a Nook for my birthday. Here it is.

I named it Margatroid and stuffed homemade Scott Pilgrim PDFs on it.

This ain’t about that though. I mean, its great but its besides the point.

The point is that I have another digital distribution device and a strong problem with digital impulse buying.

Example: Steam.
I see games on Steam. I hear good things about the game. Hell, it could even be on sale.
So, I buy it and never play it.

ITS A PROBLEM.

AND NOW I’M DOING IT WITH BOOKS. I’VE BOUGHT SIX ALREADY. THIS IS BAD. I NEED HELP.

Help! Or recommend purchases!

Maybe someone reading this can make use of them or help me out.

Its a girl with a Guitar. It fits the topic!

First up: Her name is Russo.

(This is best if you play this song along side everything. Really, think of it like a movie trailer and stuff)

She’s the daughter of a pair of “Magazine Mongers”, and grew up with a wealthy life. But through to a hatred of her family for setting her up to be a heir, she’s rejected that life to go star in an all girl indie band.

The band’s name is Saraswati, headed by the lead singer named Mai, Russo’s best friend since elementary school. The two are so close they could be sisters, having been through more things together than war veterans who’ve served together for decades. The best of friends, the most loyal of friends, the two have shaped this band from the ground up.

Except one thing is coming: The battle of the bands.

And, the night of, something terrible happens: Mai is assassinated, and Russo is fatally wounded.

Its the timely intervention of a scientist with questionable morals and a possibly faked English accept that saves Russo’s live. With a new mechanical heart and supercharged abilities, she and Saraswati reform and declare their intentions:

“We’re going after them. The bastards that did this to Mai will pay.”

What they don’t know is the battle of the bands is exactly that: A gauntlet, a deathmatch between every possible genre of music. Its either go all the way, or be a corpse.

But Russo’s already been a corpse once and she’s got the fire of revenge in her eyes…

COMING SOON TO A SOMETHING NEAR YOU SOMETIME IN THE SOMEWHERE POSSIBLY IN THE FUTURE!

GWT PRESENTS…

THE GIBSON GIRL

GREAT SCOTT!

“Listen kid, I don’t have much time. I’m gonna tell you some things that are going to shape your future for the better, alright? So listen carefully.”

“Uh–”

“First thing: She isn’t a lesbian.”

“Who–”

“Second thing: SHE is. There. I’ve just fixed your potential love life. Wait no, hold on: If you have to choose between the two, and you will, pick the nerdy one, not the tall one. I know you’ve got a thing for legs and all, but damn it the nerdy girl is the one to go with.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about–”

“Next, lets talk about your career choice. Listen man, go with school. I know you’re gonna panic because you missed your deadline, but wait it out and go to school. Don’t do anything rash and join something you can’t get away from, alright?”

“No really, I–”

“And another thing. This DeLorean? Don’t buy it. Time travel is cool and all, but this thing gets terrible mileage.”

“Noted. But–”

“Good. You’re set for a little while. Maybe you’ll turn out alright kid. Well, time to head back to the future and see if you screwed up. So help me, if you screwed up…!”

Bed bug Bites

What do you usually hear when you go to sleep? At least, what comes to mind?

“Good night.”

“Sleep Tight.”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

Really, that right there is the standard. We’ve all heard it.

Now, what do you hear first thing when you wake up?

“Make up your bed.”

Few people know that these things are connected. At least, making up your bed and bed bugs, anyway.

You see, making up your bed is actually the poorest action you can do in not letting the bed bugs bite. You see, when you sleep, you sweat.

Yes, you sweat. Everyone sweats in their sleep. Even you, you prissy princess. You sweat, so stop denying it.

Now, sweating in your sleep is healthy. But a moist bed is a breeding ground for bed mites. Yes, you have bed mites. Everyone has bed mites. Except people who sleep in bubbles, I guess.

Anyway, by making up your bed, you cover the moist, body shaped spot on your bed. And in doing that, it doesn’t get the chance to dry properly. As a result, you now have a body shaped breeding ground for our friends, the bed mite.

So, stop doing it. Leave your bed a mess. You’re just going to get back in it and mess it up again anyway, right?

“Hello?”

“Hey. Hey man its…Man, you know who it is, you’ve got caller ID. I…oh my god man, I–”

“Whoa. You’re saying man too much. Something happen?”

“I…shit. Just shit…I did it. I really fucking did it.”

“Slow down. Did what?”

“She…she was talking too much man. Said those things and shit. So I…god, I–”

“I’m gonna say it again. Slow down. What are you talking about.”

“Its…I killed her man. I just turned around and killed her. Right in the head with a shovel. I just lost it.”

“You’re serious.”

“Come-fucking-Pletely.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“No. No, I’m not done. I realized what I did, right? I mean, holy shit, there’s blood everywhere, you can’t help but notice. It’s hard not to notice, what with the blood and the shovel and the…well, I mean, I noticed and I freaked out and…”

“…”

“…So anyway. I moved the body.”

“Where’d you move it?”

“Thats not important, dude.”

“Yes it is. You put it somewhere stupid, you get caught.”

“I tell you and you call the cops. Sorry, I trust you and all, but I killed the bitch. Not exactly smart to go broadcasting where you put the evidence.”

“You sound like you’re sobering up.”

“Far fucking from it. And like I said, it doesn’t matter. Not at all.”

“Hey, uh…I’ve been meaning to ask and all, but why are you whispering.”

“I’m whispering because…fuck, because she might hear me. Fuck, I mean…”

“Hold on.”

“What? What did I say?”

“She might hear me. She’s in bed next to me, sleeping. I mean–”

“Oh. Oh, that’s fucking gross man. You need help. I’m–”

“No, its not like that. I’m getting to that. I mean, I told you–”

“Tell me faster, you’re not making any goddamn sense. You drunk? I bet you imagined the whole thing.”

“NO! I mean, I’m not crazy! I’m sure I’m not! That…she ain’t human man.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I…I got rid of the body, right? But I came back. And she was there. Perfect, like, 100%.”

“What?”

“No blood. No scars. Nothing. Like she just came back whole. And…man, I thought I was insane. I was sure. But then I went to check and…”

“And?”

“The body…its…”

“…”

“… Its still there man. The body is still fucking there!”

Why, its every bookstore, friend!

Bookstores are dangerous. For me, at least.

Its guaranteed: if its payday, I'm in a bookstore and I'm buying something.

My bookshelf has too many goddamn books right now because of this.

It's not an addiction though, I can stop any time I want.

I mean, think about it. We’ve all got summer memories and they’re all great, You do, your mom does — the only people who don’t are infants who haven’t had a summer yet.

Well, I’m no different. I’ve had tons of summers and tons of summer memories, but nothing I can really call a favorite.

I DO have a “Jesus christ I was an awful child” memory though.

How awful, well…

When I was 13, I set a hillside on fire.

Now, it wasn’t as if I intended to commit large scale Arson. It just kind of happened. I promise, the entire event started out innocent enough.

At thirteen, I was living in Beaufort, South Carolina. Port Royal, to be exact. I’ll get ya GPS information later, but it was a little town in Beaufort that had the ocean right next to it. With it, there was a little beach, simply called The Sands. Swimming in The Sands was impossible, however, due to the sheer amount of stupidly sharp shells and barnacles in the water, even three steps out. The Sands was more of a spectator’s spot – with a huge walkway across the ocean – and a fishing location.

The Sands, however, had huge hills nearby it.

View Larger Map
(Not any more though. They bulldozed it)

People would ride bikes up them and other dare-devilish things. And, well, stuff.

Before we continue, allow me to introduce my two best friends at the time. We will refer to them as Delta and Lima to avoid naming parties involved.

Delta and Lima, while my best friends, were two gentlemen who were easily bored. We were all very easily bored, in fact. Occasionally, a fourth member in the form of Papa would join and our bored quadrant would find our selves in situations that were very un-boring and occasionally dangerous and/or illegal.

Well, Papa was elsewhere at the time. So Delta, Lima, and myself all found ourselves looking for something to do.

Then Lima found some matches.

They say most arson incidents are the results of children playing with fire. Fire captivates. Fire inspires. Fire burns things in a very pretty manner.

Well, this is all very true. And soon enough, we were at the top of the hill, trying to ignite branches of the lone tree up there.

Well, the branches lit.

So did the rest of the tree.

So did the rest of the hill.

Before we knew it, the entire left side of the hill was a raging inferno. We ran, of course. We got out of there, watching from a distance as the thing burned and the fire department came. We lied, obviously, when they asked if we saw what happened. I even remember thinking how great it would be to throw fireworks into the fire.

Well, eventually it went out. The fire even made news. Brush fire, they said. Yeah, it was a brush fire and a tree fire and an everything else fire.

But, that day remains in my memory for one reason and one reason alone.

It was, of course, something that Lima said. Something so corny that it makes me chuckle every time I think back on it.

”—I’d say that was…pretty hot stuff, wouldn’t you agree?”

(And then David Carusso jumped out of the bushes and put on his sunglasses.)

Today, I visited a castle. Here’s the touristy pictures.