The Old Village

Original article posted by ravenpaine:

http://www.angelfire.com/extreme4/kiddofspeed/

I know that we have already mentioned this, but it is back up with new material. The site may go down due to heavy traffic, but keeping trying it is really important.

And several other Blogs, such as Will Wheaton dot net and Neil Gaiman.com have referenced the site this week.

But we saw it first!

Yes, the intrepid news gathering power of the citizens of Six Mile Village have defeated better known news sources about and around.

just makes you proud to be a member… Unless your not, then you get no pride.

Orginal comments:

Nickname: ravenpaine
Update!
For anyone who cares to know this whole web site and all its materials are quite fictitious and should be disregarded as fact.

They should be maintained as an interesting thing to think about and perhaps to ponder, as Neil Gaiman does, why anyone would bother creating such an odd hoax.

Read the LA Times article on the subject

Original article posted by ravenpaine:

Entry 44 – March 31, 2004

So I’m up and running today. I have coffee. I have bagel. I have a 10 minute French script written in an hour. I am doing great. I go to school. I talk to some people. I get insulted, slantily, by several professors who really, honestly, want me to do better but I keep not really doing anything.

So I start to feel bad, then I run into Kayleen, you know, that girl – the one who is with Greg, even though Greg is elsewhere – and she reminds just how distant I feel from people at the moment.

So I finally get home. I’m trying to call and make appointments and also fill out and drop off applications. I feel like stopping. I feel like giving up, because I will probably fail either way but I would rather be mad at myself for not trying then discouraged that I”m not good enough.

Yeah. Like that.

That is why i occasionaly break into show tunes. And why I am oft reported to be daringly handsome and the most intersting guy anyone has met; ever.

I even have a website; this one. I even have somebody writing a fanfic about me. For those of you unversed in the art of the fanfic, allow me to assist you. A fanfic is a story utilizing charcters that someone is interested in, and then using them to construct a story that is likely to be one of their adventures but is not written by the original creators.

It has two side effects, one positive, one negative.

The first is seeing what another person would do with your character and the interesting things that could have happened if you were writing in collaboration.

The second thing is that few people can use the charcters as well as the creators. An essential essence escapes in these times and the character ends up being present somewhat askew.

There is another strange issue when the character in question is you. How do you respond to the visions other people have for a fictionalized you? Does it mean something? Should it mean something?

I stubbed my toe and gave myself a paper cut on my knuckle today. There is an ache in my toe and an itch on my knuckle. Altogether I wonder where this day is headed and how much I won’t want to be there when I get there.

Bitch, bitch, bitch – as Grampa Simpson would say.

So fine, I’ll stop complaining. Let us talk about something else. Like my writing. I really like everything I write currently. I feel that i am in a “zone” of some sort. All projects are met with a combination of delight and genuine effort. Ah, the zen of it all.

Now, if only my knew plan will work.

My new plan, and Angie helped formulate this, is to put a pool together. Everyone throw in $5 and bet that Rodney will not get his work done for the day. Each day Rodney fails you get your money back doubled (to be payed eventually when Rodney has money). If Rodney succeeds though, he nets the money and thus makes money and completes his school work.

The only problem with this plan is I don’t know how to get a Vegs sports book to support it. That is where all the real money is.

Well, my papers are a calling. And I must at least go and stare at them across the long and shitty void.

Rodney TGAP
Bonne nuit, bonne nuit to you all.

Orginal comments:

Nickname: thewendy
sending you hugs
you are one of the more interesting, handsome men in my life.
and you are quite good enough to do just about anything you feel like, so stop being sily.
sending you wendyhugs.

Original article posted by Chellee:

At least one time every day the thought that I could be walking past someone from this web-site flits across my mind. I don’t know why. I have to admit that I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of meeting someone you’ve already met but you just don’t know it. Just thinking about it gets me all excited. Why? Who the heck knows? Just one of my little quirks I guess.

There are some people on this site that I already know; For example, I see squishious and Angel_Fire almost every day. I have classes with them. I have gamed with Cornelius. He kindly resisted the urge to instantly smash my pathetic little colony in Brood War.

And just the other day, I saw Ravenpaine. As I approached I had a sneaking suspicion that it was him talking to one of my friends, but I kept walking. For some reason, I had expected him to be taller. I don’t know why. I guess I just think people should be tall, so grow, dang it!

Okay, I don’t know what my deal is… I think I’m just sick of everything. But I do take some pleasure in the idea of knowing who Rodney is and having him not know who I am. Kind of rude, I know, but I don’t really care. Then again, he might know who I am… He did look rather interested when he saw me. Or maybe he was just checking me out. Okay, now I’m just being a brat, but I come by it honestly.

This is quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever written.

Orginal comments:

Nickname: jaddes_green
Re: Like, totally, who are you?
I think Rodney is the only one with a pic on here. I guess the rest of us are doomed to wander around not knowing! Is that guy behind the counter the one who posted a comment!? Is that girl who just went past you on the freeway submiting poetry!? WE WILL NEVER KNOW!

Nickname: -soma-
Re: Like, totally, who are you?
He was probably checking you out, This is Rodney we are talking about after all. (I love you Rodney, you are awesome).

Original article posted by Soft_Pen:

Rodney woke with a start, experiencing that terrible feeling of displacement that follows heavy slumber. As he groggily tried to reorient himself, he felt a strong hand fall on his shoulder.

“Lie still, Ravenpaine—give the drugs a chance to wear off completely.” It was Shu. “You should be feeling better now. Do you?” he asked in a kindly tone.

“I do, thank you. What happened back there? The last thing I remember coherently was you shoving me on top of that cart.” He stuck his hands into his eyes, trying to rub out the gummy feeling.

“Well, there were a few more of Barnes’ men waiting in the lobby. I took care of them. Are you hungry? I have some food in the back seat.”

It was then that Rodney realized he was traveling in a large car. The deep, cool leather felt wonderful, and he had to fight the urge to lay back into the drift of cushions and sleep. Instead, he turned around, found the small bag resting on the back seat, and brought it forward. Inside he found simple fare: a sandwich, some chips, and a soda. He began eating immediately. Shu looked over, nodded.

“Yes, it appears that Dix, if I heard you right, is quite the drug. I find it overkill, but we’ll get to that later. Looks like rain.”

Rodney looked up from his meal, saw the flashes of light arcing from place to place in the low clouds. As he ate, the rain started falling, gentle at first, but with increasing strength, becoming a wonderful lull in the back of his mind. He felt very restful.

“How did you know that name, Ravenpaine? I’ve never told anybody about that.” All his life, Rodney always thought of himself by that name. It was an odd secret he kept. Not even his most intimate friends knew about the identity he held for himself, locked away in his mind. Rodney stared at his rescuer with eyes full of suspicion. A small smile tugged at the corner of Shu’s mouth.

“I know a lot about you. I know who your parents were, and their parents, going back two hundred generations. This probably won’t shock you, but you aren’t of Anglo Saxon descent. Your ancestors hail from the far east.”

Rodney nodded. Why else his fascination with the Orient? “Yeah, I’ve somehow always suspected that. But you still haven’t answered my question: how do you know the name Ravenpaine?” Rodney folded his arms, turned fully towards Shu, who turned up the car’s heater a notch.

“Ravenpaine is a title of office, I guess you could say. Sort of like a military rank, but not so impersonal.” Shu looked Rodney deep in the eyes. “At its core, it is a calling” he finished softly.

Rodney digested that. And as he mentally reviewed his thoughts and feelings from his entire life, a small voice spoke to him, telling him Shu was telling the truth.

Rodney cleared his throat, said: “So, what is a Ravenpaine?”

“You are not ‘a Ravenpaine’, you ARE Ravenpaine. You are the embodiment of a special spirit, a distillation of ancient traditions and lineage. You are Ravenpaine,” he concluded simply.

Rodney stared out his window, watching the rain fall on the darkened landscape; he was suddenly seized by his own reflection in the glass. He was startled to realize that a stranger stared back at him. He turned back to Shu.

“So, how do you know all this? What am I supposed to do?”

“I know all of this because I am related to you, going back twelve generations. You could say we are cousins. You are a direct descendant of Gi Lao, he who has touched the hand of God.” Shu’s voice had softened, and Rodney noted the calm that had overtaken Shu as he said the words.

“’Touched the hand of God’? I didn’t think that the Christian God was part of the oriental faith tradition.” Hell, I know He isn’t, thought Rodney.

Shu only smiled. Rodney re-crossed his arms, waited impatiently.

“We’ll get to that later,” Shu said. “You asked what you are supposed to do.” Rodney slowly nodded. “Ravenpaine’s life isn’t a pleasant one, but it is a necessary one.”

Rodney was incredulous. “Let me guess—I have special powers, and I must confront the ultimate evil, destroy it, and then fade into obscurity. Does that about sum it up?” he finished with a snort.

Shu looked over at Rodney, displeasure written all over his face. Rodney sensed he had crossed a line, apologized. Finally, Shu spoke.

“I understand why you would make light of this, given the present state of the culture you were raised in. But this is a deadly serious matter. Only you can use the stones, only you can Draw…” Shu looked at Rodney meaningfully.

“Stones? What stones?” Rodney queried.

From the inside of his jacket (the lab coat was long gone) he produced a small leather bag, handed it to Rodney. “Open it,” he said.

Pulling loose the drawstring, Rodney opened the bag, turned it upside down, and into this open palm fell five smooth stones. The colors ranged from jet black to azure, and Rodney was amazed at how comfortable they felt in his hand. He sensed a gravity there, a special weight felt not so much with his hand, but with his heart.

“What are these?” Rodney turned them over with a finger.

“These are special stones; they have been prepared for your use, Ravenpaine. They aren’t fully charged now, but you will be able to do that later, after you have been shown how,” he paused—“You’ll need to know much before you can face the Walker”.

Rodney felt his guts turn to ice.

The Walker…

He hated that name, hated it with the most intense fury he’d ever felt before.

Rodney’s hand clenched tight, and the stones in his grip began to emit a soft blue glow…

Original article posted by ravenpaine:

“Its about time someone showed up,” scowled Rodney. “Three more minutes and I would have had to do all this myself.” Rodney finished removing the last of the needles and got uneasily to his feet. Dr. Shu moved to catch him as he wobbled. “Lay off, just get me my gear so we can get out of here.”

Shu handed over a bag. “It’s all in there. The items you requested.”

Rodney looked through the bag: boots, jeans, shirt, overshirt, trenchcoat, tonfas, the wood handled shinobi. He got dressed. “Where’s my hat?”

Shu was watching at the door. “I kept that seperate. Here.”

Rodney donned his fedora. “Now, lets check out of here, Reynolds style.”

Shu nodded and they proceeded into the hallway. Nothing to the left, the guard on the right had already been subdued on the way in by Dr. Shu.

“What kind of opposition are we facing here?” said Rodney.

“Escape from the hospital will be quite simple, I will wheel you out under a cart. The problem is getting out of the city.”

Rodney shook his head. “We’re not leaving until Marsden pays.”

Dr. Shu nodded solemnly. “As you wish, but that is a task we have been trying to accomplish for sometime. What makes you think we can do it so simply?”

Rodney smirked his little half smile, “Normally you have tried to work secretly and quietly, this time we’re going to ram straight down their throats.”

“We shall proceed with your plan, you have long been an ally to our organization, Ravenpaine. But first we must get you out of the building.”

Rodney kneeled down, surveying a cart of drugs and supplies next to the wall. “Agreed. This thing looks large enough.” A nearly empty vial got his eye. Dixompetrin, it read. “Shit. The bastards shoved me full of dix.”

Dr. Shu, “What does that do, and hurry into the cart, someone will discover the guard.”

“I know that. Look, dix is a drug designed for intensive psychotherapy it creates a state of waking, lucid dreams. With this size of a dose it’s likely that I won’t be able to seperate fact from fiction for at least thirty hours. Right now, I’m not even sure your real. But, hallucination or not, you are wheeling me out of here, now.” Rodney climbed in the cart.

Dr. Shu opened the door a second time and proceeded the cart into the hallway. The wing was closed down to isolate Rodney for the questioning. Most of the regular staff had been called to emergenices in other areas by a series of “unfortanate” incidents that the police had “stopped.” Dr. Shu moved at pace. Looking nonchalant to the casual eye, but to the trained eye he was a viper, mid-strike. He made it forty yards to the first set of large double doors seperating the care ward from the lobby anteroom when trouble struck.

Two more CC SWAT where on guard. Whether they were given orders by Barnes ahead of time, or if they were just antsy was uncertain. But they both pulled their guns at the sound of the opening door.

Dr. shu gave the cart a heafty shove and ducked below the first shot. He swept the one on the left and grabbed the arm of the one on the right. A quick pull and both men were in a pile in front of him. A second to move their helmets, a second to strike their throats and they were gone.

Inside the cart Rodney waited for motion to continue. Two imps, standing on his balled up knees were having a conversation about the proper consistency of linguine. Rodney was having difficulties not telling them off. The drug, have to remember the drug, he told himself.

There were two thumps and a set of short noises then the cart resumed motion. The imps moved on to the relative attractiveness of Jessica Simpson to Mandy Moore and Rodney couldn’t help but try to strangle them both. Sadly, they were intangible.

A second thump as the cart went through the double doors and into the supply room. Dr. Shu tapped on the top and Rodney got out.

“Problems?”

“Nothing heavy,” said Dr. Shu. “From here we shall enter the ventilation and crawl out the heat exhaust on the roof. I have a car waiting just past the ladder on the opposite side. We shall be undedected.”

Rodney nodded and removed the duct cover. “That assumes that they didn’t place anyone on the roof. I don’t like assumptions.”

It took an hour to crawl through the labrynthtine duct work and onto the roof.

There were guards. Ten of them, standing in pairs. And they opened fire almost immediately.

Dr. Shu ducked low into a ninja run, straight at the first two. Rodney drew his sword and side stepped at the back two.

They struck together. Dr. Shu immobolizing them with swift blows to the torso and neck. Rodney stabbed the one on the left in the chest, pulled him to the right and withdrew, stabbing the one on the right witht the back swing.

A hail of bullets tore through the falling corpsess and Rodney used the one on the right as a shield while moving towards the next pair. Dr. Shu was nowhere to be seen, but the sound of snapping spines indicated that he was far from gone.

Rodney shoved the corpse over and rolled forward. A single up-strike disabled another officer and a straight chop took out the other.

This left only one pair. Dr. Shu grabbed the one on the left and dislocated his arm, spinning him around Dr. Shu grabbed the other arm and dislocated it as well. Grabbing the man’s head Dr. Shu twisted it 180 and dropped him.

Rodney jumped up on the others shoulders and stabbed down, through the helmet and past the chin. As the man fell, Rodney pulled back and resheathed the blade. “From here to there then.”

They left the roof and got in the car. Rodney drove. They had to make up for some lost time.

Original article posted by Soft_Pen:

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP…

Rodney’s head was pulsing in time with the music coming from down the hall. A dull, not entirely unpleasant throb that was an echo of the techno music being played at the party in 4B. The occasional shouts and loud laughter that accompanied it served as subtle reminders to Rodney that life existed outside of his small room. But reminders of this type are often ignored by Rodney.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring bleakly at the two objects which had occupied his attention for the last fifteen minutes- the pile of dirty laundry in the light blue bakset, and the Playstation 2. Both demanded satisfaction of him, and he weighed the choices available to him. Muttering, he picked up the laundry basket and headed towards the door.

No sooner had he turned down hall towards the laundry room than his eyes were blinded by white light.

“GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR, RIGHT NOW!”

Rodney couldn’t see the voice behind light, but he could make out dark, bulky shapes to either side of it. “Who are you?” he asked.

“ON YOUR STOMACH, HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD! RIGHT THE HELL NOW!”

“Can you tell me what this is about?”

“STRIKE THREE, YOU’RE OUT, ASSHOLE! TAZE ‘IM, FRANK!”

One of the dark shapes quickly stepped forward, holding something in its hand. The next instant, Rodney was collapsing to the ground, his body no longer responding to his commands. Sharp, hot streaks of pain lanced up and down his body, pulling his nerves and his muscles tight. The laundry fell off to his left side, the pungent contents mercifully catching his face before the floor did. Fighting unconsciousness, Rodney turned his eyes toward his attacker, saw the words C.C. S.W.A.T. on the black body armor of the man who had just tazered him.

As he fell into oblivion, his last thought was the simple regret he didn’t opt for the Playstation 2.

* * * * * *
Rodney felt himself slowly swimming upwards towards lucidity. It was slow work, and he fell back into sleep twice before he was finally able to open his eyes. He was in a small room, obviously a hospital room. Various monitors and medical devices formed a semicircle in front of him, and tall green curtains were pulled shut, closing him off from the rest of the room. He felt a kneading sensation on where he guessed his arm was, and he slowly turned his head to the right. A female nurse in violet scrubs was strapping an identification bracelet on his wrist. It was still too early to form coherent words, so he let the woman continue with her ministrations uninterrupted.

As he lay there, his mind begain to work on the question of why he had been tazered, drugged (which explains his current mental state) and brough to the hospital. Then he heard booted footsteps approaching, and turned back to his left. The curtains parted, and three men entered his little chamber. All wore the same black body armor and combat fatigues, the writing written in white across the chest: C.C. S.W.A.T. The man standing foremost removed his helmet, cradled it in crook of his left arm. Rodney read the name tag: BARNES. His face was well-padded with heavy jowls. His belly, almost perfectly round, stood out over his belt like an enormous beachball. In the holster on his right hip was an enormous pistol. He grinned evilly.

“Wakey, wakey, you little drug-pushing shit.”

Rodney only lifted his eyebrows slightly in surprise.

“What, ain’t you got no smart comeback, druggie? That’ll be all, nurse.” The nurse quickly picked up her things and left, drawing the curtain closed. Rodney heard her close a heavier door on her way out. He looked back at Barnes.

Barnes was grinning again, and the goons behind him were chuckling.

“Looks like that tazer done fried the druggies’ nervous system, an’ he can’t talk none. Let’s help him out some. Right about now, your response shoulda been: ‘I ain’t no druggie, you got the wrong guy!'”.

Barnes lited up one meaty hand, scratched his bulbous nose.

“So, you tazered me without any explanation because you think I do drugs?”

“I KNOW you do drugs.”

“And how are you going to prove that?”

“With a drug test we done while you was sleepin’. It’s finished, and ready to be took back with us to the station.”

Rodney stared hard at Barnes, “What were the results?”

Barnes’ mouth twitched. “You’ll find out soon enough, druggie. If I was you, I’d concentrate that druggie brain of yours real hard, and try to be good. Yer in a shit load of trouble, druggie.” Barnes smirked with an air of triumph, and the goons nodded their heads.

“‘SEE SEE SWAT’. Cedar City has a SWAT team?” Rodney laughed. “Congratulations on your apprehension of a dangerous college student who was doing some laundry. Do you also bust little old ladies who double park?”

Barnes’ plump face reddened. “Don’t go gettin’ smart with me druggie, or I’ll have to start knockin’ some manners into ya.” He pulled his nightstick from behind, began tapping it against his left leg.

“Well, I just wonder if your arms could reach me past that bloated bag of a stomach.”

The tapping stopped. Barnes’ face closed in on itself, his fury pulling the pudgy folds into bright, crimson balls. His voice trembled with rage: “Looks like we’re gonna have to teach ya some manners after all, druggie.” He took a step forward, the billy club raised above his head.

Just as Rodney felt his body snap into combat readiness, he heard the door open. Barnes stopped dead in his tracks, lowered his nightstick. Measured footsteps approached. The curtains parted, and a man in a white lab coat entered the enclosement.

As the adrenalin in his system withdrew, Rodney focused his senses on the newcomer. He was short, with asiatic features. He had close-cropped hair, jet black. His dark eyes moved from Rodney to the three men, and then back again. Rodney instantly noted how the man held himself. Poised, alert, like a fighter. His instincts told him that this was a dangerous man. Rodney noted that Barnes and his goons weren’t registering the man as a threat. The man smiled pleasantly.

“Good evening. I’m doctor Shu. I’m here to patient this man.”

Barnes’ eyes narrowed. “Who are you? Don’t remember seein’ no Japohnese docs in here, before.”

Shu smiled again. “I’m Chinese, not Japanese. I’m new here.”

Barnes looked distrustful, said: “Well, yer gonna hafta leave until we’re done questionin’ the subject.” Barnes’ goons stepped in close behind.

“Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave until I can finish with my examination. The patient is entitled to some privacy.” Shu’s face hardened briefly.

“Hey, ain’t you listenin’? We ain’t goin’ nowhere until we’re done. Can’t you read english?” He pointed to the words on his chest. “We’re cops, and we’re gonna question this druggie shit right now. So fuck off, gook!”

Shu dropped his head in a sigh, then looked up at Barnes again. His eyes had turned to black diamonds in his face. He took a slow step towards Barnes. Rodney tensed, sensing the violence, unsurprised that these three inepts could not.

Barnes raised his club, his face sweating and rigid. The last thing he ever saw was Shu’s hand appearing magically beside his face. He felt a blinding pain in his neck, just under his chin, and then he knew no more.

Barnes’ goons never had a chance. They stood imobilized, shocked as they watched the diminuitive man bring down their boss without a sound. Shu struck the left goon in the lower abdoment with three fingers, then turned on the other, hitting him in the left temple. Both collapsed without a word.

Shu turned to face Rodney. Rodney was amazed. He understood what had just happened, but was surprised at the fact that his eyes were able to follow the exchange of lightning-quick blows. The goon squad certainly hadn’t been up to the task.

“Well?” asked Shu.

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” the smile again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Oddly enough, Rodney felt completely at ease around Shu. By rights, he shouldn’t feel safe at all, in light of the terror Shu had just unleashed on Barnes and his goons, and yet ye did, all the same. His only shock of the night came next:

“It’s an honor to finally meet you, Ravenpaine.”

Orginal comments:

Nickname: Stephanie
Re: What Really Happend the Night of Rodney’s Arrest
hahahaha….Bravo!

Nickname: Edward_Nigma
Re: What Really Happend the Night of Rodney’s Arrest
….. A little dissapointed in the choice of language… good plot development.

I Like this one to.
Elder Russell M. Nelson
Priesthood Session
4 October 2003
Now is the time to prepare for your own ultimate interview. You might ask yourself: “….Is my language free from obscenities and swearing? Am I morally righteous? Am I truly grateful for the Atonement that makes my resurrection a reality and eternal life a possibility? Do I honor temple covenants that seal loved ones to me forever?” If you can honestly say yes, you are developing power in the priesthood.

🙂

Nickname: Asmodeus
Re: What Really Happend the Night of Rodney’s Arrest
To answer your question on that one it would be.

No
No
No
No
well looks like I am going to hell according to this guy, of course I am going to hell so i guess he is right, except i am making way for the master here before I go to hell.

As for the story that was pretty good, I thought it was a true story and you started to exhaderate it a bit. hehe

Original article posted by -soma-:

It’s 9:50 a.m. Monday morning. I’m up. Still. Had to stay up all night writing a paper that shouldn’t have taken me all night to write. Oh, good…Kay’s not even here today. That means my paper isn’t due today after all. Oh, well. I guess I got it done and out of the way. Goodie! argg… I am tired. don’t really know what I am thinking. Just need something to keep me awake until 11 when I have my German class. ich bin tired. Ich habe nicht geshlaft. I’m going to go search for some caffeinated something.

Original article posted by thewendy:

I will never write

my last letter
to you would be
raven’s wings warm
from desert rain
enclosed in a small
white envelope.

—
i am ill.
my head hurts.
my stomach is unsteady.
the illnesses passed on to me by my students this year have been bleh
mainly flulike symptoms
perhaps some asprin would help my head.
now i’ve forgotten the great thought i was going to write about.

Orginal comments:

Nickname: Soft_Pen
Re: my last poem and some thoughts
My favorite image of that poem is the “small white envelope”. That is good, tactile imagery. I’d like to get my hands on that envelope- rub it between my fingers. Ahhhh. Creamy envelope!

Original article posted by ravenpaine:

Entry 43 – March 28

I want there to be an unbearable pain that starts in the center of my mind and sends me into seizures whenever I do anything other than what I am supposed to be doing.

It will attack my eye first, they will swell like that crazed woman or if I was on Mars ala Total Recall.

Then it would go for my knees. They would go numb and I would collapse. The indignity of collapsing is enormous.

Then there would be the feeling of insects running under my skin and my blood would boil.

Given that kind of threat I think I could do a set of daily tasks without wavering. The things I could get done then. The studying and the working and the so on and so forth. Yeah, it would be pretty good all the way around.

But I don’t have that. So I have to think of something else to accomplish from time to time.

Yeah. That’s what I need to do. The work. I’ll get one of them new fangled job things and work on a schedule. And then I’ll start reading again. And eventaully I’ll even do all those papers that are due for class that I really don’t seem to care about. I mean, at all.

So yeah. That would be a plan.

As is, I’m simply going to have to plan on failing some more. Just a little more though. Not too much.

This has been swell. Yep, typing away like this. Feeling my fingers cramp because I’m switching between two keyboards right now and my fingers won’t focus properly. A real big pain.

I have to write a letter to Greg. I owe him that. And it is something I wish I had from time to time. Now if only I can get the portion of my brain that cares to come online and start getting some crap done, that would be graet.

Rodney TGAP
Bonne nuit, bonne nuit to you all.

Orginal comments:

Nickname: Junpei
Re: Must not consume gravy…
The insects, the pain, the brain seizures; these things can be arranged.

I’ve dabbled in hypnosis, you know.

I can make you sneeze whenever you’re not doing your business. Unless you have none, of course.

Original article posted by Greg:

Well friends, come Saturday I will be one month away from Taiwan. I have nothing else to say about that.

My goal for the day is to memorize 80 words, which thing I have never done before. Therefore I shall have to be brief.

I have had a goal to write back to every person who writes to me on the first P-Day or Sunday available. Thanks to my brash 80-word goal, and Spencer this is now impossible. For which I have to thank Spencer. It makes up for the postage due on your first letter. Those were some pricey Werther’s Originals.

So, let’s get straight to the news. Despite a rotten weekend last week, it’s been pretty good. The natives are restive, the peasants remain in a non-volting state, and remain well within the realms of the cult, canny and scrutable.

On Tuesday we learned “the ba principle.” “ba” is a word which doesn’t translate in to English and has no place in our grammar. So it can be a little tricky to get. I overcame this obstacle by assigning it an English term with no real meaning.

To use “ba,” it’s kind of like “grab” or “get” or “obtain” or “have.” The usage can be something like “you ba napkin, give me.” (nib a conjin gei wo). This allows us to separate 2 objects in a sentence which might be somewhat confusing: “You give me napkin.” See, in that instance, you can’t tell what is getting verb’d. So you can use ba to separate. And if you use my translation of “ging Ni ba canjin jiao gei wo” you end up with “please you amp-up that napkin and give it to me.”

So now you know some Chinese. Woot.

In other news, my bartending skills are already paying off in the mission. In the MTC they give you free ice cream sandwiches at lunch and dinner if you want. Wherefore, I have created the Ice-cream-sandwich shake, by mushing it up with a cup of milk.

This passes as news for me.

I find myself relying on the ancient haiku:

Child named “spatula”
Has no instant career
Like “habib.” Mudflap.

Sister Mary Ellen Edmunds spoke Sunday. She was quite funny… Especially since her first mission was to Taiwan where she learned Mandarin. She relates: “I quickly noticed that this isn’t a language. It’s funny little noises. And then I found out that it’s funny little noises with tones. And those tones are really important. The little kids ran around me laughing and showing off – talking to me. I wanted to smack ‘em. I wanted to say ‘Hey! I’ve got a college degree! You can’t make fun of me for not knowing these funny little noises!’ But of course I didn’t know the noises to say that.”

We all had a good laugh. It seems missionaries back 40 years ago were moving their heads up and down with the tones, just like today.

What a funny ‘ol world it its.

Finally, one of our teachers, a Computer Science major originally from Taiwan, keeps saying, “we need to find the kernel of truth.”

I told him we need to decompile the kernel of truth. He laughed for a long time.

Messages:
Spencer: thanks for the letters. Tell your harem thank you from me.
Jared: I understand you have some interesting intentions towards me. Perhaps we need to have a talk.
Stephanie: Don’t forget I love you and also you should send popcorn balls.
Mom & Dad: What’s the latest? Please send jerky and possibly rice-crispy treats. Also I love you guys too. And stuff.
Eric: Thanks for the letter. I have frequently considered making a comic strip of the mission, but studying Chinese pretty much rules out everything else. And yes, I checked for wayward alarm clocks based on your advice.
Mickelle: Thank you very much. It always warms my heart to hear from you in any medium.
Blaine: All your base, your base, your base…
Ryan: Now belong to us.
Abe: You rock. Send pics.
Hastings: You rock more. Tell Abe to send pics.
Rachel: Shouldn’t you be studying?
Kaye: Can I?
Rodney: Heard a little about what is going on. Need non-hearsay

To all: The Church is true. I learn it over and over again every day. Faith precedes the miracle, and the trial of your faith will be more valuable than gold.

— The Candy Thief.

Orginal comments:

Nickname: lovestruck84
Re: Greg’s letter 03/27/04
Well I hope I have the right person and I am commenting to bluepatch(by the way, never knew your real name) So I hope this is you. I boycotted opendiary for awaile because of some emotional turmoil that was going on. But I did read your last entry and saw that you have relocated. Anyway, I love your writing enough to register to this websight, so here I am! I would love to exchange emails with you, so feel free to email me at Daisie105@lycos.com or Kakolewski@fordham.edu. If you cant, perhaps I will come here from time to time to check up on you.
Good luck!