I trusted you to pay the bills, until I received those pointed calls; found them hidden, of course, in out of the way places, away from prying eyes and your surreptitious faces. I listened to the constant stream Of lies … Continue reading Trust-less Daze (Gambling Daze, part 4). A poem.
D&D fifth edition (or 5e) has this lovely little bonus for players called ‘inspiration’. It’s an extra d20 that is awarded to the player for doing something cool, great role playing, etc. They can use it to re-roll a d20 … Continue reading Laidback DM: New Approaches to Inspiration Rewards
She liked responsibility— it gave her credibility, a way to cover erstwhile tracks, unpaid bills and missing goods; her lies falling on naive ears, infallible fallibility. The pawnshop, her best friend (other than the pokies, that is), until she learned … Continue reading Truth-less Daze (Gambling Daze, part 3). A poem.
It has been about a year since ‘The All or the Nothing’, my first book of poetry, was published as an e-book. It’s now available in print, as well. I guess it’s time for the follow up. I’ve been working … Continue reading Writer Interrupted: The next poetry book
I remember carrying my son Two months old and sleeping Into wayward pubs and clubs In search of a wayward mother Bewitched by poker machines And the scent of an easy win. I remember the humiliation Of asking doormen and … Continue reading Wayward Daze (Gambling Daze, part 2). A poem.
I looooove comic books. I’ve been reading them since I was a kid, and in my currently bereft and almost moneyless state I don’t get as many opportunities to buy them as I used to. A loooong time ago, I … Continue reading Comics: All-Time Personal Faves
She played the pokies in her day, her singular gaze unflinching and intractably admiring. The stars and bells, her friends; a gentle, constant riot of affection and affectation, pleading to stay and coaxing her with opium overtures of digitised ecstasy. … Continue reading Poker Machine Daze (Gambling Daze, part 1). A poem.
You sneak into my world past locks, alarms, sigils, wards down corridors of fatalistic compromise through rooms of idealistic circumspection and find me waiting earnestly wanting, more or less what you want no need to be so stealthy For more of … Continue reading Stealthy. A poem.
I like short role playing game (RPG) campaigns. That’s not to say I don’t like the occasional long-termer, but mini-campaigns (say, around 3-4 months) are my current preference. For those not in the know, a campaign is a series of … Continue reading Laidback DM: The Virtues of the Mini-Campaign
Transfixed by you, statuesque in the hurricane, riding tempestuous slipstream currents— a goddess of hail and happenstance. You’re a lightning rod, attracting joules and fools like me, incontrovertibly shattering stratospheric records like a pheromone cyclone. After your storm has passed, … Continue reading Hurricane Heart. A poem.
Widows is a remake of a British TV series from some years ago, based on the book by Lynda la Plante. It’s stylishly directed, well written, brilliantly acted, but leaves you feeling somewhat flat by the end as a consequence … Continue reading Widows. A movie review.
I recently found a house in the mountains, burnt out and abandoned. Resting on a window pane, its tenuous pages teased by the wind, was a partially charred book. The page settled in the breeze. As I took a photo … Continue reading Upstart Photographer – The Book
As DMs, we’ve all done it at some time or other: we’ve killed the entire party and drained the fun out of the D&D session. Sometimes it’s unintentional, sometimes it’s mean spirited, sometimes it’s to punish players for being complete … Continue reading Laidback DM: Avoiding The TPK
I’m spiralling again: an anxious emptiness, a long bitter refrain, that repeats over and over and over and over and over in my angry, lonely brain. Old friend, you’ve never let me go, though you always let me down/ bring … Continue reading Old Friend. A poem.
I avoid you when I see you, now. Not ships passing in the night but rather garbage scows, no more trashy encounters or the like. No potential head-ons or man overboard, now endlesss drunken shanties to help me smile While … Continue reading Avoidance. A poem.
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