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Where have you spread wealth to, Obama? Who has benefited? Everyone? How is it that the unemployed are yet losing their homes when you had a plan to solve this problem?

Right wing pundits accuse Obama of being a Marxist and a socialist. As a former libertarian socialist and anarcho-syndicalist, I can safely say that the man is hardly on the extreme left at all and it's a bit absurd of the right to exaggerate. But what I have recently discovered in an epiphany had reading political cartoons and surveying current events is that there may be something to this whole Obama being quite like a communist thing after all.

If Obama is a socialist, he’s nothing of the likes of Marx, Mr. Glenn Beck. He’s more like Mao of China: a war-mongering liar who speaks of change and hope, but offers nothing as he hypocritically pushes the same self serving policies as any capitalist. It used to be that Democrats taking the government meant something could change, but it clearly doesn’t matter either way as we’ve seen. Fuck Obama. Fuck the Democrats, too. He has abused us with his promises of hope just as Mao abused the Chinese with the promises of Marx — promises that were never intended to be kept.

The money you pay in taxes belongs to the people of this country, not to the banks, not for the foreign exploits of the rich, and certainly not to bailout the elite while social programs to improve the quality of life in the nation go neglected and achieve no ends. You’re no socialist, Obama, no more than Mao or Stalin are Marxists. Marx would turn in his grave to see what became of his ideals when wielded by people such as you. You’re a fucking liar and you’ve betrayed us for power that you share and collaborate on with the rich.

Where has the tax money gone that was supposed to change everything and give us hope? It has left the hands of the working class, it has returned to the elite, and it is erasing the middle class entirely. We will gladly pay taxes, but we want renewable energy, health care, agencies to address the problem of unemployment, and bills passed to protect the working class and give them access to upward mobility and a middle class. The right wingers had it all along: You may not be a Marxist, but you’re as socialist as we've seen socialist leaders be; you’re as a fucking Soviet — a red flag toting, state communist phony.

And, where we have asked for socialized government to take the principles of property and an open market to develop a non-extreme middle ground of moderate sanity, you have given us an old Chinese proverb: “Communism is not love. Communism is a hammer which we use to crush the enemy.”

You’re a fucking pinko liar and god damned war-mongering piece of shit every bit as blind with capitalism as your Republican predecessor, George W. Bush. At least he bloody told us what a fascist fuck he was. You hide your oppression behind the notions of Marx, and your Democrats fight with the Republicans not for our sakes, but for your sakes.

Fuck you.

There must be a revolution that takes place in America before our only choice is a bloody war and a violent resistance that may doom this nation forever. We must not let it get to that point. We must not behold the collapse and state of anarchy that may be left to the first to seize power. We must not let it come to that.

The video game industry is gong through exactly what happened to the music and to the film industry. I speculate that in 10 more years, the only good video games coming out will be made by indie developers. Video games are fast becoming Hollywood, Top of the Pops bullshit, where everything being shoveled at you is the same exact premise with few exceptions -- kill zombies, shoot at people online, and the same exact thing reproduced over and over and over again. It's pretty much already like that. People who really care about video games really need to step up and work on games themselves and start their own companies. We need people to localize the Japanese games that are no longer being brought over to the west because no one in the west buys games anymore unless it's Call of Duty: Modern Video Games Suck Shit 7.

So Much Easier

Girls and drugs can both make the pains of the world fall to the sides and be lost somewhere. Both release neurotransmitters in your brain and affect your level of euphoria and happiness. You have to be careful not to get mixed up with either. A serious relationship, you say? What you have is an addiction, a dependence, and a serious fucking problem. Get help before you start coming down off that high. It's not going to last. Throw that ring in the trash. Flirt with someone else and just enjoy it for what it is. Cut out the dope; just blow out smoke. That doesn't give you an excuse to be a whore, because then you're just a different kind of junkie. The trick is to not be dependent on anyone or anything, on people, on sex, on chemicals, on releases of neurotransmitters that make you feel good, warm, confident, energetic, nothing, or everything. It's so much easier and safer to do things on your own.

Final Fantasy IX

I want a girl who will play through Final Fantasy IX with me. I'm going to find her.

I'll Be Ok

I am a little bit sad. Oh well. I suppose all you can do is look for something that will make you feel better, whether it's a person, a place to go, a thing to do, or a project to work on. Things change constantly, and you always have to look for new things. I'll be okay, just like I always am ok.

It does get difficult at times, but that doesn't mean you should just stop trying. There's always something else out there to do and experience. When the sad things roll in, just toss them aside without asking any questions, and just look for something that makes you smile again.

Everything comes and goes, so it's best you do, too.

You motherfucking piece of shit bandit.

You and your two friends were stupid enough to attack my party of 8. What were you thinking? After I killed all your friends, you ran away into a group of eight more bandits and got me killed after at least 30 minutes of battling fucking 11 highway robbing pieces of shit. FUCK.

All because I threw my ice bomb too close to the party trying to hit all of you bastards at once. Those other guys weren't even your friends.


Ugh. I hate bandit fucks like you. If only you hadn't run away. If only the game would let me just end combat when an enemy chooses to run, but no... I have to chase after you or go into a round by round encounter of putting miles between us as we both flee from each other. FUCK. Do you think I didn't try to just click END COMBAT? I did. That would have been the wisest move. But no, it said, "ENEMIES ENGAGED." YOU WERE RUNNING AWAY. YOU WERE NOT ENGAGING SHIT!

Get a fucking life and stop fucking up our highway systems. How are we supposed to travel with god damned brigands everywhere? Motherfuckers.


I told a girl, "I could pretend to believe in God for that cute, scrunchy facial expression." She blushed and said, "I could pretend that didn't bother me."



I'm going to go live with you.

As you well know, I love my Austin, and it's truly sad that I could ever have to leave it behind, but I've been talking with a friend of mine, and the fact of the matter is that I haven't been enough places. I hardly can say that Austin is my favorite city in the world (Though, I do believe that it is) if I haven't been anywhere. I'm almost off probation, and... The happiest times in my life since everything went to shit have been times of moving on, going somewhere new, and doing something different.

So you'd better have space in your house. I know you want me to come live there and have been saying so for months now. So... Fuck it. I have unfinished business in Florida now anyway and I'd might as well get a little bit closer so I can get it taken care of. When are we doing this?

So, one thing I'm going to need is a city. I need to know what the closest cities are and I need to find out what kind of jobs are available in them. You told me once before but I forgot. How close are they? I have a car, but fuck. I don't want to not have mass transit. I can deal without it, but I don't want to. Are there any community colleges around? Surely there are.

Is your boyfriend going to be alright with this? I guess you wouldn't offer if he wasn't. Also, if you guys are junked out, I will bitch at you about it 24/7. And you're not going to be able to hide it forever. Fair warning.

How is your boyfriend with motor vehicles?

When should I plan to be there? How long do you plan to be living in the place where we'd live? I wouldn't want to leave you hanging, but eventually I'd probably head up to Oregon. After that I'm not sure, maybe Boston, San Diego or Arizona. You'd think the fucking south east is the last place a person like me would go first, but I do have some business in Florida and I do need to show you LSD.


She Wants to Leave

She loves her friends and where she lives. She just doesn't like the way she feels. She miscarried. He wanted to leave. Now she wants to leave, too. But you can't just leave with no where to go in mind. Problems will visit you, and you'll be all alone this time.

The best way to convey style is with music playing and by being able to chill right in front of someone and move around. However, the way you present yourself plays a big part in what your style ends up being. I wear other things at times, but these are the basics -- that is for, hair just starting to grow in me. The Myself that has long properly cut hair has more awesome style. I can't even capture the highlights or fit my entire body in because I can't photograph myself with a phone. But if you ever went out dancing with me... You wound understand all of this a lot more. A lot more.

3Collapse )

I'm well aware of the fact that ravers and the people who go dance at raves look at me when I get going and think, "Damn, look at that screamo/hardcore guy make this EDM look emo and hardcore as fuck. It's just the truth. I splice the styles with other style, like grimy, filthy shit in my screamo with womps in the bass and dynamics from that to a shit ton of beats per minutes and the chaos of both genres. Then I just take advantage of that break, that start-stop dynamic. I build up into something intensely climactic and dramatic.

That's what's so awesome about remixing tracks and making electronic dance music out of them. You can mix anything into it, any style you can pull off. If you've got the style, you can throw down with it when it starts getting intense on the dance floor. You see other people with style, too, but it's different often -- especially from my style since I'm not a raver.

I didn't think I was going to be able to listen to screamo anymore for a long time. I thought it was too dramatic and often sad and emotional for me to handle with this break up, but Wow. Today I listened to Danse Macabre and I felt amazing. Lately I've been listening to nothing but dance music, trying to stay happy and just going, you know.

Sometimes I don't ever want the beats to stop or the same tracks to repeat. But today, I loved the fuck out of some Eine Frage and Zeitbombe.

And I did it driving home from my friend's house deep in the heart of the suburbs, after we smoked a bit after I took care of all my errands and paid the bullshit. My window is busted out, too, which sucks, but... It means that I can't do what I normally do when I need to get into some music really hard -- I roll the window up. I usually turn it down when I come up to neighborhoods or establishments of some kind. It's polite and respectful.


Today I just blared it loudly, driving past middle class public schools as they get out, ever so slightly moving in my car (You can dance to screamo as well). I hadn't gotten down on some screamo in so long, terrified to feel all the emotion that comes with it. But it felt great. The kids look at me and think, "I don't know what it is, but something about that guy makes me want to kick his ass. He moves around like a fag in nothing but black with a goofy hair style, all of which threatens my sexuality," but they're too young to beat me up. They think I'm listening to metal because they don't know what hardcore is and only hear screaming, but they realize, "I've never seen anyone ever so slightly, tastefully dance in their car to metal. They just bang around with their heads or swing their hair around or move their hand into some sign and move it up and down making faces."

No. Screamo is delicately complex and expressive in terms of style. Sure, Metal is complex musically, but it is reserved as a style. Screamo is not reserved at all. It is intense and hardcore and shamelessly open.

I've been meeting lots of new people. I'm talking to a girl named Leah. She talks to me all the time. She's my friend's ex-girlfriend's friend. We text a lot, but I'm not looking for anything. The last thing I want is romance. I just want to play cutely with her on the dance floor. I don't even need sex. I'm serious. But... Yeah, she talks to me a lot.

Words Spoken To Me

Something's wrong between the two of us.
You try to call me, but you're breaking up.
And now I all I can hear is one.

I heard this in a remix. It killed me.

This Is The Last You'll Hear Of Me

It's nothing personal, and it doesn't mean that we are not on friendly terms. It's just that what goes in my LiveJournal isn't anyone's business. Anyone who reads it should not know who I am. I should just be an anonymous person who writes online, a face that no one can really point out, and no one who reads it should know any of the people that I know. I made a mistake a long while ago in not realizing this. In the past, I have written in my journal as though it was something that no one reads even though people do read it. People have talked about it. It has led to hurt feelings more than once with more than one person in my lifetime of writing on LiveJournal. So it's not going to happen anymore. For now, most people that I've met in real life are not allowed to read it anymore. I still don't feel comfortable writing on LiveJournal though and will probably continue to be vague in certain matters. My last entry was completely private and no one will ever read it. It felt good to get it all out. I was finally able to think about it all clearly and how it makes me feel. The ice supporting the notion of even a friends only journal is very thin.

Bad Brains were the first band to splice the reggae rebel culture into hardcore punk, and were the very first presence of Caribbean immigrant rebel-revolutionary culture in the hardcore punk scene; though they came about as early as the late 1970s, they are known most notably for their impact in the first hardcore/punk scene that emerged in Washington DC in the early to mid '80s.

Washington DC was the birth of hardcore, the movement by which punk rock transformed from the Sex Pistols and the Ramones into something that was not a glam production of lower class, unemployed youth and their angst about becoming addicted to heroin and wishing they had just stuck to speed. The glam of the new punk rock was social change, artistic independence, and productions so raw that the majority of society would find them to be anything but glamorous, let alone tolerable to sit through -- even many fans of the early popular punk rock music of the 1970's would be alienated by the severity of this new hardcore form of punk rock.

After hardcore emerged, punk rock was not a bubble gum pop song about mischief equating to anarchy or sniffing some glue at school to piss off the loving suburban mother of some attention seeking druggie hanging out in the streets because he liked it there, drinking with his useless friends. Hardcore took the punk rock movement and said, "Anarchy is not about giving someone the wrong time or stopping a traffic light. Anarchy is about freedom from capital, church, and state; it is about solidarity, equality, and a brotherhood of man."

Some History and Insight on Hardcore/PunkCollapse )

So by 1987, Operation Ivy was playing shows in Berkley and the San Francisco Bay Area with bands like the Dead Kennedys and even Green Day, long before anyone had ever heard about them. Operation Ivy was the first ska-core band -- ska-core being a blend of ska horns (added to the genre later), reggae guitar style, and punk rock. Operation Ivy would have never come to pass without Bad Brains. Without Operation Ivy and their hardcore predecessors, you would have never seen a band like Sublime, never seen mainstream bands like No Doubt, and the third generation ska-core movement that is going strong today with bands like Streetlight Manifesto and The Arrogant Sons of Bitches would be nonexistent.

While the entirety of Berkeley's street counter culture was strung out on methamphetamine and heroin, Operation Ivy wrote the following song:

"When you're dying -dying- giving a hope to
Living -living- for smoking dope, and
Singing -singing- that same old song,
Yeah, yeah, yeah; it's always the same.
I got no -- nothing in mind.
I was trying a new adventure,
Buying that old peer pressure,
Wasting my mind away,
But I saved it just in time.
No reason -- I was going mad
I was hating my mom and dad; I was
Riding a sinking ship...
Thank god I never slip!
I got no (Dope!)
I got no (Dope!)
I got no (Nothing in mind!)"

My favorite music to this day, first generation screamo music, is a descendant of the emocore variation in the post-hardcore sound from DC that diverged in 1985 with Rites of Spring and the Dischord record lineup that Ian MacKaye ran in opposition to the unfortunate hardline culture that developed. It came mostly as a perceived image of hardcore as being masculine and tough, wherein hardcore values became enforced in a contradictory fashion; emocore was hardcore that rejected this notion and embraced a lacking of machismo and a tendency towards emotive, deep, meaningful expression. Straight edge and hardline hardcore were the first signs of the hardcore/punk movement losing sight of what its purpose was, and they divided the scene by calling people posers, saying they were not hardcore, and that their music was emocore (An insult they made up to assert that emocore was not hardcore).

Let me remind you, this was all going on in 1986. Yeah, the word emo is that old.

More History and Insight, Mostly On Origins and Definitions of EmoCollapse )

Which brings me to screamo, my favorite manifestation of hardcore out of all the post-hardcore transformations. Screamo came about in the mid to late '90s, mostly led by Level Plane records and popularized by the band Saetia. Bands all over the US and Europe began to emerge with a new sound, a sound that was unlike any previous emotive hardcore sound, but one which was distinctly hardcore as fuck and undeniably emo as fuck as well. When these bands said that they were emo bands, people all over the music scene were confused, ignorantly thinking, "This is hardcore. This is not emo," as if they were not one and the same all along. The term screamo came up and was first used to describe the performances of Billy Werner in the band Saetia. People and critics listened to it thinking, "This sounds so emo, but it sounds nothing like the emo we make fun of when we write album reviews. It's extremely hardcore, but somehow it's also the most emo thing I've ever heard in my life." And so they called it screamo, and the fans embraced this, as fans have often embraced dividing their styles from the styles of others. So the real emo kids still out there were suddenly hardcore dancing to chaos core intensity with all the rest of the core kids, and when these new emo bands exhibited the dynamic of slowing down the chaos to downcast melodies of octave chord arpeggios, the hardcore kids watched in confusion as the emo kids began swaying their hips slowly until the break back into emotional chaos. When they were asked what that was all about, the kids said, "It's screamo," and they were free of the stigma that the word emo had generated... For a while.

First wave screamo was followed by second wave screamo, a wave of screamo that was at its core pop music. This wave maintained a lot of the characteristic sounds but with high fidelity and a lacking in the rawness that makes screamo so sincere. With a definite post-hardcore pop sound that was emerging, such bands could easily be described as having hardcore style and sound. However they lacked entirely the punk rock aspect, and they are therefore not actually emo bands, but post-pop punk (or second wave) screamo. It is likely that if you think you know what screamo is, you are thinking of second wave screamo.

Again, the image that is carried by the word emo is tarnished as these bands sell videos of themselves as effeminate pretty boys cutting and engaging in childish, thoughtless teenage angst as they consume themselves with thoughts of nothing more relevant than the high school social scene. It's easy to fall into the style of being an emo kid that needs to cheer up with pop lyrics like, "Sit back and let her die slowly; don't cry, she didn't love you anyway."

Meanwhile, Merchant Ships has two fat guys on stage practically in tears as they divulge to you the hardships of being abandoned by your family and being forced to take care of yourself as a child; when the anger at the parents dissipates into sadness and hopelessness, the vocalist stands up with a shaky voice he can barely manage to muster the strength to use, and he chants in unison with his band about how they will strongly stand on their own and they will make it.

While Native Nod depicts the sinking of a Navy sea vessel and the deaths of all the soldiers on it, he addresses the President and cries out in anguish begging for someone to stop the madness.

A band so rare I cannot ever remember the name of it performs a song to address anyone with a drug problem as he shyly and modestly alludes to the fact that what he is saying might apply to himself more than he'd like; he speaks of how hard he knows it is and how much he knows it hurts, but he pleads for you to understand that you are strong. He tells you never to let anyone tell you that you are powerless without some God. He is talking about Narcotics Anonymous, and he says, "I believe in you," at the end of the song practically in tears. You can barely hear him say at the end, "And I believe in myself." You have to turn the volume on full blast to hear it as he sobs and mutters it.

Saetia tells a story in high poetics that reference literature, myths, and holy books, the story of his friendships, love, experiences, feelings, hopes, and losses that reflect the subtle, cryptic painting of his deepest sorrows as he struggles to better himself and be happy; his story is real and does not once mention razor blades or self injuries like it's some kind of glamorous thing to scream about in a song, let alone does it feel at all like something one could glorify to a high school student. No, A Recollective by Saetia is a tragedy of personal anguish and struggle in a heart breaking world that transcends teen angst. An adult will appreciate the artistic contributions of Saetia's Billy Werner; a child would not comprehend enough to relate, and if he could relate, he would feel glad only to know that someone out there could say it so perfectly as to curb the feeling of being alone in the world.

Meanwhile, Hawthorne Heights is what most people will think of if you say screamo, and these douche bag kids might have the scorpion's attack with the pseudo-hardcore sound, but the industry they are a cog in leaves no sting whatsoever (In the words of Crass); this shit is not any kind of emotional hardcore epic; it's a catchy pop tune about cutting yourself.

More Insight on ScreamoCollapse )

In Conclusion:

So take the names: Punk, hardcore, emo, screamo, indie, and what have you. Forget what all of them mean, and hold on to your fancy illusions of what these things represent as illustrated for you by an industry that has nothing to do with our music. I don't want you to know about our music if you don't care to try to understand it and if you are going to misrepresent it in your ignorance. I don't want you to let it fall into the hands of anyone else in the corporate world who might fuck it up. I don't want you to have a name for it -- a name you can take and change the meaning of to suit the marketing of all the crappy music suffocating the sound space in this continent.

It's not emo music anymore. It's not hardcore anymore. It's not punk anymore. It's just our music. It belongs to the people, and it's freely available for download on the Internet. It is not subject to the state of becoming property -- neither private nor public -- for when it is over, it will be left as nothing more than a powerful memory, and all of us will walk away from it smiling happily knowing our favorite band broke up and are now working on new projects. We'll never whine about not getting to see them live again.

And if you ask us about what it was like when we did see it live, we'll tell you, "It's hard to explain," and when you ask what it sounded like, we'll tell you, "It was raw and it meant something," and when you ask what to call it, we'll tell you, "It's called music as an art form and not as business," and when you ask to hear it, we'll tell you, "Sorry. You should have been there. It's no where to be found anymore," and when you start talking about music as an art form with your bad taste and a stick up your ass while you try buying and selling our style again, I'm not even going to care because you're not going to have any idea what we listen to and you're not going to have anything to call it to take it away from us.

I swear to god, if I see one more person use the expression emo to describe music that is pop music or indie music, I am going to strangle them. I swear to god, the next person to assume I have bad taste in music because they have no idea what they are talking about is going to be sat down and given a lecture that leaves this entry seeming like the epitome of brevity itself.

To Die Without Hope

To die without hope... Is that what you call courage? No. I don't want anyone to die. Though the darkness rends my soul, I will not sit idly by and watch as the world collapses. If you cannot hold out, then give up the city -- only, protect the people. As long as they live, so will the Kingdom.

A condemned fear before the fall; derelict as years of neglect call; homestead man, reside within my walls; trespassing transient, fear the wrecking balls; squat down, shield heads from the debris of all; the fear of God, ordinance laws, and city hall.


In other news, I am apparently a 24-year old scene kid, a scene kid who listens to real music from an underground scene that existed either before any these so-called scene kids or any of the people using that term were born, or only just when they were scarcely nine or ten years old at most; and, no one called us scene kids, knew what the fuck our deal was, or had any words or phrases for us but maybe, "Fucking weird motherfucker who listens to crappy music and believes in socialism" -- that is, if the kids I went to high school with even knew what socialism was.

And before any of these kids started jacking my style and leaving out everything but the parts that sucked, our music wasn't tainted with any shitty image or pop bands. And if they were, the public was too stupid to know it and didn't bother us. And I could actually talk about my music and the subculture of it without some 'tard calling me a fucking scene kid. So you know what, motherfuckers, how about if I jack your style?

How do you fucking like it?

I'm not a kid. I grew up with hardcore/punk. I mostly listen to first wave screamo, early emotive hardcore (pre-screamo hardcore music with an emotive quality, which is what emo is), and indie rock. Being involved in those musical interests at one time compromised a group including myself, my friends, other groups of individuals including: music nerds, writers, artists, thinkers, poets, idealists, cynics, and musicians; and, we called the gathering of this culture at our shows and in our cities the hardcore/punk scene.

Well, there isn't a scene anymore you fuck 'tard, and you have no idea what you're talking about. So shut the fuck up about our hairstyles and the belts we buy at Wal-mart now that we used to make and be made fun of for wearing. Shut the fuck up about the girl you went to school with who had piercings, listens to the radio, votes Republican, and NEVER compare me to some bunch of faggots like them taking photos of themselves from an absurd angle like that.

I wasn't the kid who had all the friends in school. I'm not the kid who fucked the bitch in skinny jeans with a blonde streak in her hair, the one that made fun of you for being fat and awkward. I am not a fucking scene kid.

I'm a grown man, and I've listened to your music, been to your shows, listened to you talk, and let me tell you something. We used to say, "The scene is dead," and, "Punk is dead." What a fucking joke.

I don't care if Modest Mouse records albums on a major label; I don't care if you call it indie rock. I don't care if bands like Panic! At The Disco wear eyeliner and girl pants; I don't care if you think that is what emo is, when you have in fact never probably heard an emo band in your entire life, save some of the post-hardcore indie ones like Sunny Day Real Estate and The Promise Ring. All I want is for you to shut the fuck up, you and all of society, and let me talk about my music with people that know about it, without chiming in with everyone around with your ignorance.

Maybe then I could actually say, "Hey, there is this heart-breakingly epic emo band from Italy touring at Cry Me a River Fest. Too bad we can't get out to Germany," without you giving me some speech about people that cut themselves and listen to pop rock. And then I wouldn't have to deal with explaining to you how the media has destroyed the names of these genres, and that we're not even talking about the same kind of music, only to have you refuse to understand and insist that I am wrong.

GOD, it is so hard listening to screamo in modern day America. Here's an idea, piece of shit. Do some research.

Space Travel Is Boring

"I'm shot to the moon.
Been there a half an hour,
I want to go real soon."

Cuz They Rapin' E'erybody Out Hurr

EDIT: Watch this one after:

If You Play JRPGs or WRPGs...

To whom it may concern,

I've started a community, jrpgs_and_wrpgs, dedicated to the discussion of computer and console role-playing games, both of Japanese and Western origin. This is a really niche genre, and a lot of people who play these games prefer to play mainly these games exclusively. Due to the nature of these games, they can be quite addictive, engrossing, and the object of much obsession. Furthermore, there is no community on LiveJournal dedicated strictly to them. Almost all "RPG communities" on LiveJournal are fan fiction exercises, 'RPing,' collections of Final Fantasy icons, or general fangirl/boyism around a single franchise. There is no real discussion about these games going on, and there very well could and should be. This community is yet a seed, but if you like the idea, I encourage you to join, to encourage all your friends who would like it to join, and for all of us to contribute RPG related reading and discussion. That there is nothing like this currently on LJ is good reason that it could be successful, and it will be if we want it to be. I've been on LJ consistently since 2002, so your moderator will be here to stay, as will this community with your help. Furthermore, I can promise you that I am no control freak, will only mandate enough to keep order and productivity in the community, and will otherwise not be a tight ass, anal retentive fascist with a bunch of silly rules and a god complex. So, if you play JRPGs or WRPGs, please come on over, join, and start posting immediately about whatever RPG-related business your heart desires. I'm eager to find my peers in this.


(to be cross posted)


I deleted almost everyone on my friends list. I definitely deleted more than I kept. This is a public entry, so that might include you. If that actually bothers you, just let me know. It's not that if I cut you that I didn't like you. I just assumed it didn't matter.

None of my feelings or goings-on are any of anyone's business anyway, and it should be more select. So now it is.

I felt kind of offended upon seeing that a few people I rather had liked cut me and had not just been on some kind of hiatus. Oh well.