First Taste.

Finally.

Recent events have finally brought my hands and mind together to hammer some words out. This will be where I exist without rules, boundaries, or any such mind-cuffs that could affect the end product of the writing. My heart will be dug up, showed off, buried again, and the process repeated. Short stories that have never seen the light of day will be presented. The usual fare people love and enjoy will make it's return in due time. Honesty as if my life depended on it shall be showcased. This is it. This is me. Let's get the foreward over with, shall we?

Who the fuck are you?

A foul-mouthed by nature 38 year old Cherokee father of sons who has a unique voice and take on many of life's sights. I have lived many professional lives, but I daresay I am most well-known these days as "The Rogue Element", "Quester", or to a few who never like to update their bookmarks, "NESquester". I was also a professional wrestler and personality for an extended stay and, oh, do I ever have stories about that. I enjoy far too much to narrow it down as everytime I attempt a "what do you dig?" question, I get angry at myself hours later for not name-dropping Kyuss or old Gottlieb tables. Harlan Ellison and Hunter Thompson are my writing gods and I've always thought the best part of that is that I never knew who they were until I was compared to them with my stream of conscious/frantic style. It is a style I have tried to calm in recent times to become more accesible, but fuck it, it's what I do. In the wacky world of gaming, I accidentally became a well-known reviewer, then accidentally a well-known pixel artist, and, finally, accidentally a game artist. Perhaps I actually have talent, but I never feel it anymore.

Why the fuck should I care?

Why the fuck not read a few words if you're already here? If you're bored and wish to check my grammar and spelling, feel free. I could use the help.

Where the fuck has your writing been?

Long story short, I still equate writing to sitting in a home with people I miss terribly. There was a major indicent in my life that took place in early 2013 that I will spill gory details about in time like everything else, and it still is a mindfuck to remember who I was then and who I am now. I've unsuccessfully tried to cut every memory out that I have to lessen the bullshit one-sided pain in every way I can to no avail, so maybe writing again with a profilic desire will be akin to ripping the band-aid off. Let us discover together.

When the fuck will you write?

Every single time I write out a schedule, it gets fucked up somehow, so I'm going to work on posting here every other day with creating art in the other days. It could be anything from a 2,000 word essay on the eating life of a Moroccan sea turtle to an uber-vague poem to a random short thought to a long fictional tale to an old review to a new review to WHOTHEFUCKKNOWS? The greatest thing about my old NESquester site is that I didn't plan a thing. It mutated into it's own beast on its own and we had a ton o' fun with it.

Get your seat belts on. I'm sharing it all now.