It is a big day in New Prussia and there is much to report. (Including something that hasn’t happened in months!)
The time is 1:30 and I am listening to little except the soft breeze blowing outside the window. Romantic huh? Well for those of you who are curious I am now living in Orange County California. The O.C. Now, I have to admit that I am tempted to rename my blog The O.C.D. it is fitting after all. I was disappointed with the name Letters From the Front. I was hoping that some random blog surfer would find my blog and think "oh this must be something really in depth and thoughtful," like the musings of a young soldier in Afghanistan or Iraq coming to grips with the harsh realities of war. They start reading and realize it's not and they are like WTF? Who is this freak? What have I gotten myself into? Is there a God at all? So far that doesn't seem to have happened.
Many of you know I had been looking to get out of the conservative Bible belt, as well as some of the fake yuppie-ness of North Dallas, for some time. The irony of course, is that I moved to Orange County, the Bible belt of California, and it's impossibly more fake then Dallas. Still it is nice here, the sun is shining, the ocean is 20 minutes away, I can see the mountains from my place, palm trees sway, girls are hot and many breasts are fake. I'll be honest here, I am not an expert on breasts by any means, so I don't really know this for sure, but I am told they are. (Would this make me a boob noob?)
A look at the parking lot of a local mall reveals 3 BMW's in a row, a smattering of Lexus's (lexi?), Escalades, Porches, and other car I will never drive. Sitting next to them is my beat up Altima. It has a small dent in the driver side door, on the opposite side is a paint stain where somebody at my old Sbux spilt their drink on my car, (Or more likely, threw it at my car out of anger.) and somewhere, between here and El Paso, lies a cheap wheel cover that came off one of my tires, I love my car now more then ever now. I like to park it next to these fancy cars and quietly judge them by proxy through my Altima.
However, much like heaven, I am in a better place now. There is a lot of creativity out here and hopefully I will be more inspired. More so, it is really good to be back with my old gang, fellowshipping, hanging out, making trouble and generally having fun. I had few good friends left in Dallas and I felt I just never could fit in at Watermark, I simply wasn’t cool or handsome enough.
So far I really like the church I’m going to. It’s like a breath of fresh air breathed into the stale, dank, caverns of my soul. It is a place for misfits and dregs, normal people too. I am sure there is an “in” crowd but it doesn’t seem very dominant. They are genuinely committed to the arts, not in the half assed way many churches do, but because it is the language of our generation. Most importantly they really embrace outreach as a way of life, rather then something that is preached but the congregation really fails to act on, I am excited about it and I think good times are ahead.
Gary, or Lord Volinar, as he was more commonly known, died a few days ago when a daemon (that’s a non-satanic demon) he summed to harness and use for his own purposes broke free of the binding spells and slew him in an epic battle. He is not completely gone however, for just as his soul was leaving this realm an evil warlock captured it and infused it in a magic crystal. Gary’s captured soul now rages as in instrument of great destruction in the hand of this warlock and it appears it will take a band of mighty adventurous to kill the warlock, smash the crystal and free Gary once and for all. (Recommended for character levels 45-50 only.)
Anyhow, Lord Volinar, Gary Gygax, we lift our mead filled gauntlets in fitting tribute to your legacy. We look forward to that glorious day when we to, may join you in the hallowed halls of Valhalla. Gary was level 69 when he died. Here is the last known picture of him: