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Messages - Cainad (dec.)

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I could have posted this in Open Bar, but it falls into a level of sordid and inane human experience that I think warrants being cordoned off in its own thread. Not everyone wants to see the icky bits of some jackasses' life story. But this is PD, and some of you freaks revel in that shit, so here we are.

Allow me to frame the scene: there is a massage parlor in a town I used to live in, and I visited it on occasion. I have made regular exercise a part of my life and it seemed like a fair idea to get my stringy muscles tenderized every month or so, if only so that when the aliens from space come to eat us I will be all the more tender and delicious. I'm considerate like that.

Now, this particular massage parlor is staffed, as far as I can tell, entirely by ladies of Asian descent. The sign out front has one of those diagrams of feet with inexplicable pictures of organs on the sole. The more worldly among you will have already deduced what I am getting at here, based on the thread title and the scene I have just described. For those in the back, I will briefly explain: these businesses, usually dubbed "Chinese massage parlors," are somewhat notorious for providing services that can only loosely be described as "massage."

"Jack shacks" would be the more gauche way to describe it.

But I will HAVE YOU KNOW, dear readers, that I am a gentleman of the highest order and that my intentions were pure as the driven snow. My fucking neck hurts sometimes and I like having it kneaded like a French bread every so often, alright? I visited this establishment a half-dozen times while I lived in the area, and I found the services provided to be of good quality, and none of that funny business, in case I haven't made that perfectly clear. Masseurs and masseuses are trained professionals and associating them with jobs that fall outside their scope of work is unseemly and poor behavior. Also, this place was cheap, like really cheap. Very attractive to my wage-earning wallet. I paid for an hour or half-hour of massage as my time allowed, tipped generously (because really, no way the employees are bringing home enough based on that hourly rate), and said "thank you" in Chinese because I am polite and it seemed to amuse the nice ladies.

Fast forward, about three months later. I live very far away from this place now, but it just so happened that it was on my way back from a job site on this particular day. How fortuitous, I thought, because I had tweaked my upper back the night before, and was generally sore from a recent return to regular exercise after a hiatus. Additionally, I was running on about 3 hours of sleep and had woken up at an ungodly hour to drive for 2 hours to the job site. Laying still in a quiet, dark room while my muscles were plucked, stretched, and rubbed down with hot stones seemed like a heavenly idea.

First I lay on my stomach, and my back was worked on as it had been several time before. No surprises, and the hot rocks were especially welcome this time. Seriously, you should try it if you haven't before.

Then I flipped on to my back. Each masseuse seems to approach this phase a little differently, so I was ready for whatever. Or so I thought.

I should have clued in the moment my chest and stomach were caressed, rather than rubbed down. I am a bit ticklish and was focused on keeping my cool, however. Let the professional work, I say. Then work began on my thighs.

It happened so fast, I barely understood what was going on. That of course is not really true: I knew immediately what was going on, but it was quite sudden and my senses overloaded. My life up to this point had not prepared me for this situation. I couldn't think straight, and since I had been more or less holding still the whole time it seemed only natural to continue holding still.

And then it was over, just about as fast as it started. Faster than I would have thought possible, if I'm completely honest. So quickly that I thought, absurdly in my mental haze, that there didn't seem to be much point. Then the massage was completed as normal, I paid the tip, and said "thank you" in Chinese as always, and left.

All I can really think of, some time later, is that I really wish that time had been spent on my pectorals. They're still damn sore.

Literate Chaotic / Re: Unofficial What are you Reading Thread?
« on: August 30, 2016, 11:05:02 pm »
And they, particularly the Quya mages, seek to make their souls invisible to the gods (or something to that effect, I think it's covered in The False Sun).

Literate Chaotic / Re: Unofficial What are you Reading Thread?
« on: August 26, 2016, 10:00:00 pm »
Well, at least Sorweel should come out of things OK.  Unless he literally runs into the No-God or goes on to kill Kelhus, that boy's unstoppable.

Or, if the theories are correct at least, he runs into Kelmonas.  The fan theory is that Kel's a narindar of Ajokli, and thus stands outside the sight of the gods, including Yatwer and her White Luck Warrior.  He sacrified that beetle as an offering, a murder done for no other reason than "because". 

Ajokli is the god of tricksters, thieves and assassins...a description that fits Kel to a t.  I also wonder if Ajokli can see the No-God and Consult..."He only seems such [the Fool] because he sees what the others do not see... What you do not see ... The blindness of the sighted".  Which also makes me wonder if there is a link between Ajokli and the Solitary God of the Cishaurim...the reference to the blindness of the sighted, the fact that the Psukhe is undetectable by other magi and even unknown to the Consult, and that the Cishaurim wage war against the followers of the Tusk.  Ajokli, via the nameless narindar in the White Luck Warrior notes that his cult alone is persecuted by the Tusk. 

I'm also somewhat amused by the many parallels one can draw between Ajokli, narindar and our favourite inscrutable trickster god, the Anticipation of Mephala himself, Vivec.  Narindar are holy assassins the gods send, but narindar of Ajokli are ritual assassins for whom the act is holy, and are asked to kill without reference to their own cares.  Of course, Vivec is the Tribunal replacement for Mephala, whom the Morag Tong assassins (and maybe the Dark Brotherhood, if the Night Mother is Mephala.  Of course, one reading of the 36 sermons suggests Vivec is in fact the Night Mother).  Assassins remove the act of emotion from murder, which in turn makes it an act of destruction...and destruction is another form of creation.  Murder and enlightenment, combined.

Incidentally, narindar = narinder = narendra = "lord of men" in Sanskrit.  Just putting that out there.

Now THERE'S some food for fucking thought.

The themes of sight and blindness are rampant in this series and especially in this trilogy. Khellus's children are constantly described as having inherited their father's sight to varying degrees. One of them had to be chained up because he could see deeply but lacked the dispassionate conditioning. Minor spoiler: Serwa in The Great Ordeal makes a statement to the effect of "light is our birthright."

The entire Dunyain philosophy revolves around the eponymous Darkness that comes before, and the Logos is the way to be able to "see" the origin of one's own thoughts. Plus, the Probablity Trance.

The Few have their own form of sight, and Mimara's Judging Eye represents a kind of sight that perhaps no other living person possesses, except perhaps Khellus during the Circumfixion. What little we know about Cishaurim sorcery revolves around themes of sight and blindness.

Then there was that guy in the cave, with the heart.

The various asides about how the Nonmen perceive the world comes to mind as well: they can't "see" two-dimensional images, so they sculpt. I forget if it was a character or in one of the pre-chapter quotes, but it's stated that Men fear and hate the darkness because it is ignorance made visible, while the Nonmen see it as holy.

The No-God is, apparently, invisible to Heaven. And, it seems, somehow invisible to itself ("WHAT DO YOU SEE?")

I don't have a real thesis here, but it will surprise me greatly if the conclusion of this series is not somehow related to sight and blindness.

Literate Chaotic / Re: Unofficial What are you Reading Thread?
« on: August 25, 2016, 03:52:42 am »
I got the book a month ago, but I'm digging into R Scott Bakker's The Great Ordeal in earnest now.

As always, Bakker treads the line between "absurdly overwrought" and "lovingly crafted" writing. I can see a lot of people getting into this series and wanting to smash Bakker's keyboard. I'm a fan.

I need to get the Kindle version.  I have the hardback, but since I read all the others on the Kindle, it feels...wrong.  I can't highlight things or compare notes easily.

That said, eating Sranc was a fucking terrible idea.


I am formulating hypotheses. In a world where morality is physics, none of these hypotheses work out well for our heroes.

I don't count heavy snowfall as a natural disaster, 'cause if you build the houses and roads correctly it's hardly an issue.

But I am also a filthy, unwashed mountain hick who only requires 2 hours of sunlight a day, so YMMV.

America has gone from being a Ballard novel to a Palahniuk novel.


I read Haunted.

You're right.

I tried to read Haunted. I agree.

Literate Chaotic / Re: Unofficial What are you Reading Thread?
« on: August 21, 2016, 02:34:50 pm »
I got the book a month ago, but I'm digging into R Scott Bakker's The Great Ordeal in earnest now.

As always, Bakker treads the line between "absurdly overwrought" and "lovingly crafted" writing. I can see a lot of people getting into this series and wanting to smash Bakker's keyboard. I'm a fan.

Hell yeah

A wildfire started in my town as well today, not bad enough to worry about evacuating but maybe should start to think about what to put in a go-bag. Living that SoCal life!

In other news I found a job! It's not as many hours as I'd like, but I make good tips so that's nice. It's also crazy and bilingual.


My husband is the previous make and model of Project: BITCHHAMMER than Richter, so he's like, "Whatever." And I'm in San Diego like, "OMG IS MY SHIT GONNA BURN DOWN LIKE TOMORROW WTF."

Seriously, like...fucking SERIOUSLY. I am so on edge. But I presume that if some San Diegans were on the East Coast and a Category 5 was just spinning along in the ocean, they'd feel much the same way I am right now.

There is nowhere people can live that isn't fraught with natural disasters of some kind. Forest fires, hurricanes, volcanoes, tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, plain old flooding... there's something for everyone.

I thought the middle-upstate NY region where I used to live was untouchable, but then Hurricane Irene accidentally the entire Catskills. Turns out, living in the valleys of mountains that are made up almost entirely of silty sandstone, with no real permeability, results in small villages getting washed into the Hudson. Not often, but enough.

The real threat, of course, is the fucking tent caterpillars.

High Weirdness / Re: THC In The Water Supply?
« on: July 27, 2016, 10:34:05 am »
Sounds a little... Adam Weishaupt Society, if ya know what I mean.

"Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man." - Nietzsche.

Which is my way of saying my copy of The Great Ordeal is now running late.  Just wrote a pissy email via Amazon, asking why my shit hadn't arrived and why I hadn't been notified and where is my shit now.  <snip>

Oh christ alive, I was out of town and totally forgot! Amazon Prime, SAVE ME!

We all knew he had to exist somewhere. Where else but Texas?

See, New England is crowded to the gills with weirdos and prudes alike. It is an environment in which the LMNO thrives. The perversity of the universe flows freely here and the LMNO can flow comfortably with its current.

But the anti-LMNO lives in a place where The Desert is King, and humans are but its tiny treasonous subjects who try to scream louder than the hot wind. They scream with their fireworks and flags and talk radio, and sometimes they fire bullets into the vast emptiness just to remind it they exist. It is here that the anti-LMNO must exist, because here he must scream and scream and scream into the void so that it will KNOW that we don't take kindly to your kind around here.

Like I told Roger, we have been sending our stupid signals out into space for decades. We should have expected the brain pollution we've been spewing out to come back at us eventually.

Not that it matters much for my character.  Dunmer = best race.  Plus fire magic and Red Eagle's Bane = curbstomping undead.

I was always a fan of Breton + Magic Defense Enchants = 75% Magic Damage reduction, but that was in the base game.

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