Trials of a Modern Artist

Well, I know it has been a while since I posted, my lovelies, but I have some exciting news.  Scamp has been working on a book!  That is correct.  A book.  I am writing a collection of short stories, poems, quips, and quaffles.  Okay, so the last one is a Harry Potter sports equipment reference, but the book is coming along nicely.  A few older things will be in it, but it's mostly new material.  I have recently had an offer from a friend to help me when it comes time for publishing.  I was going to go to an "as ordered" publisher and sell through Amazon, but this seems like it will be better.  The only idea I had, apart from that, was to get it all transcribed onto parchment and toss it over the bow of my ship while sailing low over major cities.  We tried that once with a song that my first mate wrote, but the local constabulary was surprisingly displeased.  Stay tuned for more information on how to get a copy of my very first book, and for some possibly exciting new things to be coming from the blog.

As always, questions, comments, and concerns (or just fan mail, if you're so inclined) may be addressed to pupabouttown@yahoo.com with "Scamp Project" somewhere in the subject.

TTFN, Ta Ta For Now!

The Wolf Who Cried Boy

Once upon a time, there was a pack of wolves. The pack was just like any other pack. They all took care of each other. They hunted together, they slept together, they lived together, they traveled together. It seemed like the perfect pack. There was one problem. One of the wolves liked to play tricks on the other wolves. One night, he ran into the den and told all of the other wolves that there was a boy wandering through the woods that they could eat. The wolves ran as fast as they could to the spot that the trickster wolf told them to go to, but there was no boy. The trickster wolf laughed and laughed and laughed. The pack was upset that there was no food, but they weren't so upset that they would kick him out of the pack. The trickster thought this was great, so the next night he ran into the den telling the pack there was a boy in the woods that they could eat. The pack was skeptical, but they ran out to find the boy, just like before. Also just like before, there was no boy. The pack was furious and made the trickster sleep out in the woods. Later that night, the trickster was awakened by the sound of someone walking through the forest. It was a little boy! The wolf ran as fast as he could to the den to tell the pack about the feast that was stumbling around the forest. The wolves didn't believe him and told him to go back to his punishment area. The trickster tried to get them to come share the bounty of the lost child, but they wouldn't believe him. The trickster finally gave up and went back to find the boy. He ran up to the boy, intending to tear out his throat and enjoy the whole child to himself. Just then, the boy turned around. The wolf saw the boy in detail, but it was too late. The boy shot lightning from his dead, black eyes into the wolf, killing him instantly. The boy tossed his strawberry blonde hair out of his soulless eyes and began to eat the wolf. The ginger finished the wolf and followed his tracks to the den. Before the pack knew what hit them, the ginger used his devil magic to burn all of the wolves. The ginger let out a laugh and left the wolf carcasses to rot. Because he had no soul, he didn't need nourishment. He rampaged through the forest killing all of the woodland creatures until he was shot from a distance by a hunter with a sniper rifle. The remaining animals made a statue of the hunter out of forest debris and lived happily ever after. Until the hunter hunted them all down.


The moral of the story is this:


It might be fun, but you should never fill your time with lies.
By your friends and family, you will become despised.
If it's unavoidable and your manners have some holes,
Try to remember you might need help, because gingers have no souls.

The Pretty Girl and the Ordinary Boy

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She was the prettiest girl in the world. All the other girls were jealous. One day, the jealous girls (this being all of the other girls in the whole world; so nothing to scoff at) decided to play a trick on the prettiest girl. They waited until she fell asleep and cut off all of her hair. They ripped up all of her clothes. They threw away all of her makeup. When the prettiest girl woke up, she was distraught. She put on the rags they had left in her closet and went outside. The boys all laughed and pointed at her, calling her names. She sat on a bench to weep. While she cried, a boy walked up to her. He was an ordinary looking boy with an ordinary voice and ordinary mannerisms. The poster child for "normal" or "average". He asked her what was wrong. She explained that someone had played a mean trick on her and that she was very sad. He held her and wiped away her tears, listening to everything she said. She kissed him. They dated for 6 months. In that time, her hair grew back and she bought new clothes and makeup. She was once again the prettiest girl. On Christmas Eve, she sat down with her boyfriend. He gave her a small box. She opened it while he bent to one knee. He asked her to marry him when she saw the beautiful ring. She said no, and explained that now she was pretty again. She could have any boy in the whole world. She left without another word and went to a party with some of her pretty friends. The ordinary boy sat in his ordinary apartment and opened his ordinary pill bottle. He took three of the pills out and swallowed them. Once the aspirin kicked in and his headache was gone, he went to the party where all of the pretty people were. They wouldn't let him in. He shot the doorman and went in to the party, guns blazing (quite literally). Just as he came face to face with the prettiest girl, she started to cry. She knew that of all of the terrible people she could date, none of the pretty boys would be bad enough for her, so she dated the ordinary psycho boy again. They had 2 sons and 2 daughters. All of their children were pretty and psycho. They lived mediocrely ever after.


The moral of the story is this;


Even after beauty fades, the ugly never will.
If you find a love inside your heart, it makes you want to kill.
It's true that things of this nature can be a little scary.
Just remember that there is no such thing as truly "ordinary".

Beware The Ides of March

Big, exciting news from the land of fantasy medieval combat reenactment!  This past weekend was The Ides of March event at Dragon Hills Retreat in Bowdon, Georgia.  The Ides of March is one of my favorite Dagorhir events.  In case you're just joining my readership (or just don't know what Dagorhir is), Dagorhir is a fantasy medieval combat game (or LARP; Live Action Role Play).  We dress in medieval or fantasy garb and fight each other with foam padded weapons.  That being said, this past event was a big one for me.  One reason that it was important is because it was the first event I've been to since June 2010.  I was very happy to see all of my old friends and make quite a few new friends.

Another large reason that it was a big deal is that my character (whom I have been playing as for over 4 years) died.  Not in the way that we fight, die, and resurrect in each battle.  Full character death.  Before I left to go to New York, my character was going through some large plot points at Sage Hill.  I was possessed by a demon, handing out riddles and prizes, and plotting to overthrow our realm.  Having been gone for a year, there was no feasible way to continue the story (or come back from it).  I spoke with one of the Sage Hill sect of Templar and he said he would help me.  I was camping with Ravenous (more on that shortly) and Rastas approached our camp.  He called me out and I went to meet him in the field in front of where we were camping.  We fought.  Hard.  He expected me to hand the fight to him, but I had to make him work for it.  I took his leg and he called for any part of Sylk (my character who was possessed) to appear and help him destroy The Seeker (the demon).  I dove onto his sword.  Sylk being dead, I am now Scamp in Dagorhir (which should make it easier for me as Scamp is also my name in the fetish world).

Possibly the most important event to take place at Ides was myself joining a unit.  I have been trying to join Ravenous for over a year now.  I was supposed to have my beat-in last Ides, but my ankle problems prevented it.  I wasn't about to let anything stop me this year.  Though I had to wear my walking boot to prevent re-injuring myself, I did my trial.  The beat-in was about endurance.  It hurt me.  A lot.  I was crying from the pain at one point.  I didn't know if I could do it.  But the encouragement of my brothers and sisters helped me prevail.  I had to do 1 versus 1 fights until I beat the Dragon (leadership of the unit) 20 times.  As I got more and more tired, that got more and more difficult.  After those, I had to fight two versus one fights.  After those, I walked the line while all of Ravenous hit me with their weapons.  I am glad I made it through and I couldn't ask for a better unit.  We are brothers.  WE ARE WOLVES!

The event was a great time and I strongly suggest those who aren't already involved in Dagorhir to give it a try,  We always have room for growth.  You've read Tolkein.  We live it.

TTFN, ta ta for now!

The Last Time I Checked, a Deck only Has 52 Cards...

Look, I am an airship captain.  As such, my responsibilities allow for only a certain amount of free time.  I fill my free time with things that I enjoy.  Do I watch the Tony Awards?  No.  Do I go to nightclubs every night for random sex in the bathroom?  No.  Do I religiously follow celebrity news and gossip?  No.  Does my lack of fervor for these things make me any less gay?  Hell no.  Being gay isn't about what you do or enjoy, other than doing and enjoying members of the same sex.  That being said, there is an epidemic upon us, my friends.  That epidemic is "the gay card".  There is no magical card that you get when you come out of the closet.  I joke about a care package with showtunes, hair product, and a copy of RENT arriving at your door when you accept who you are.  The keyword there is JOKE.

It seems that a large number of people in the gay community believe that if you don't do certain things, if you don't like certain things, if you don't wear certain things, or if you don't eat certain things that they are entitled to revoke your gay card; effectively turning you into a straight person.  It doesn't work like that, people.  I promise you that I don't know, or care, who won a Tony last year.

"You don't know who won the Tony for best show last year?  Give me your gay card!"

No.  Do you know why I'm not going to give it to you?  Because there isn't one.  Things like this are just furthering the stereotypes that the hateful straight-ful people are falling back on in their effort to deny homosexual citizens of this country equal rights.  The seemingly "necessary" stereotypes (that I have personally witnessed many gay men trying to adhere to) do nothing more than glue a big, pink target on your back.  Not too long ago, a gay couple was brutally attacked outside of their church.  By members of the same church.  I am not excusing what those hate-mongers did.  Not even in the slightest way, but incidents like that would stop happening if people stopped wearing their sexuality on their sleeve like a paper badge.

"Oh my god!  Are you saying we should all go back in the closet and hide who we are?!?!"

No.  If that is what you took from this, you need to read better.  What I am proposing is that we give the gay community better role models to choose from.  If a gay male teen has nothing to look up to except the effeminate gay best friend of the lead female in movies and TV, he will emulate the effeminate mannerisms.  While being gay is not something you choose or learn, mannerisms and habits ARE learned behaviors.  I want to see the gay best friend who doesn't make a big deal out of being gay.  The gay best friend who tells the leading lady and she isn't sure if he's joking or not.  The gay best friend who doesn't bleed glitter.

I am not a self hating gay.  I am perfectly happy being a gay male.  I just want popular culture and a decent amount of the gay community to stop giving all of the straight people I meet reasons to think that, because I'm gay, I must want to be a woman.  If you genuinely enjoy stereotypically gay things, more power to you.  Just do us all a favor and stop TRYING to fit into a community that supposedly wants equality.  A big part of equality means that we would be at the same level as the straight people.  Not above them, like some would seem to believe.

I'm sorry if this sounded harsh.  If you have a problem with it, comment here or email me at thescamppuppy@yahoo.com and let me know your feelings.  I would love to hear more viewpoints on the subject.  If I get enough response, I may even post a followup article and address your concerns and beliefs on what I see as one of the biggest roadblocks to the gay equality movement since the invention of heterosexuality.

And please, don't try to take my gay card.

TTFN, ta ta for now!

How Not to Lose Friends and Alienate People

Well, well…  I was starting to wonder if anyone actually read these.  Lo and behold!  FAN LETTER!  A very dear follower of my blog (whom I found out keeps a shortcut here ON his desktop) was talking to me about online chatting.  Now, I know that everyone wants to read an awesome story or blurb from my life, but a few things need to be put out there.  This, my adoring fans, is a compilation of opinions, unwritten rules, and common sense that I like to call “Scamp’s Guide to Internet Etiquette; Fetish Chat Room Edition”.

I will be explaining all of this from the point of view that I am familiar with (gay male to gay male), but these rules apply for pretty much any orientation and gender that use a fetish chat room (or any other chat room, for the most part).

One of the biggest things that one will see in a chat room of any kind is caps locking.  In a text based conversation, SPEAKING WITH ALL CAPITAL LETTERS IS TANTAMOUNT TO SHOUTING.  It can be a useful tool when you need to convey that you would be putting emphasis on the words you use in a conversation, but it’s not an “all the time” style of typing.  It has been posed to me by someone who uses caps locking quite often that “caps lock is the only way to let people know that what you are saying is important.”  Nobody is THAT important.  I know you think you are cool.  I know that caps lock is like cruise control for cool.  Here’s a protip for you...  Even with cruise control, you still have to steer.

This part applies to fetish chat rooms more specifically.  To narrow it down, it is most common in the Dominate and submissive chats.  In Dominate and submissive chats, submissive men try to seek out the Dominate men that they feel an ingrown need to control aspects of their lives.  This can range from semi-sub boys all the way down to slaves who consider themselves property and nothing else.  It is all well and good if the submissive is interested in the Dominate.  But what is very common to find is people who try to place themselves in the role of a Dominate, expecting those around them to give them instant respect because their screen name contains the words “MASTER”, “DOM”, “LORD, or any other in a wide array of “privileged titles”.  Just because you consider yourself a Dominate does not mean that everyone else has to lick your feet for the privilege to talk to you.  There are many out there who have earned respect.  Many who have earned their title.  Many who have earned the privilege.  This behavior is furthered by the submissives who don’t know what they want.  Or the “subs” who just want to get off while a stranger talks down to them.  They feed the proverbial “trolls” of the screen name title abusers.

Another trend spreading like wildfire through internet fetish chat rooms (and many other types of chat rooms) is that many people ignore the “meat and potatoes” of a quality person for the flashy, smoke and mirrors of the “fajita” attractive and innocent acting younger chatters.  What happens quite often is that a person can be having a decent conversation with someone of similar interests.  This conversation can range between anything from weather to actual connection which could lead to meeting up and exploring your various kinks.  Suddenly, a beautiful woman walks in from the rain, begging the private detective to help find her missing father.  No?  Oh sorry.  In a similar chain of events, a (usually) younger and more attractive person comes into the chat room and all interest in the meat and potatoes is lost in favor of the fajita that just sizzled past your table.  This is an insult to the person you were just talking to.  In other news, if that person is so attractive and perfect, why are they single and trying to hook up in a fetish chat room?  If it smells like a fish, and swims like a fish, chances are that he is a psycho who will stalk you for years to come.

Please take these few (and not terribly difficult) ideas to heart.  I know “it’s just a chat room”, but many people feel inadequate when they are sloughed off, ignored, talked down to, or just plain insulted by rude behavior, self-entitled “Doms”, and people yelling at them to “HAVE A GOOD DAY”.

You know what they say, if you can’t type something nice, the Agency will find you and break your typing hand.  Ambidextrous?  Sucks to be you!  Now, I have a huge shipment of slightly less than legal “gemstones” coming on board with my new (and slightly frazzled in the brain pan) mechanic, Joe.  He keeps making eyes at me.  I may have to take him to the Captain’s cabin and see if my booty shivers his timbers.  Excuse the pirate pun, but I’ve been aloft on my own for FAR too long.  Until next time, sparrows and swallows.

TTFN, ta ta for now!

Questions? Comments? Requests?

Ahoy there, you salty air dogs!  Blow the man down!  *giggles at my own innuendo*

So, I do what I can to keep you, the readers, entertained.  But my imagination well is running dry!  I know, it's hard to believe that one so bright and fun as myself could have a problem thinking up topics.  But, alas, it is true. What this post is intended to do is to get my fans involved in the shape and future of The Scamp Project.  Hell, I'm a sub.  I have to have SOMEONE telling me what to do, right?

Well, not quite in so many words, I suppose.  What I am calling for is a census.  Tell me what you want to see, what you want to hear, and what you want to know.  Pretty much any topic, comment, or question is fair game.  I'll even read some of your letters (or type from, if I haven't started the vlog yet).  You just have to write in.  Tell your friends.  Tell your kids.  Tell your wives.  A tell your husbands, because I'm taking requests from everybody out here.  You don't have to write and confess, I'm waiting for you.

We here at The Scamp Project are committed to bringing you the highest quality versions of Scamp's opinions, findings, research, and adventures.  But we need your help.  Comment below.  Or write an email to TheScampPuppy@yahoo.com and let me know what you think, what you want to see here, what you feel about me.  Hell, write me and let me know how you are doing.  If there is something you need help with, I will do my best to get you the answers you need.

The main thing I am saying here is WRITE IN.  You want new content?  I need new ideas.  Win-win.

Now, the lights are flickering because using the internet in my ship requires MASSIVE amounts of aether power.  With Stanley gone, I'm dashing around like an automaton with it's primary stabilization gear cut off.  Once again, I send out a call for help.  I need a mechanic!  Until next time, my compatriots.

TTFN, ta ta for now!

Whether to Turn a Blog Into a Vlog; Musings of the Scamp

Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?  Are your nostrils aquiver and tingling as well at that delicate, luscious, ambrosial smell?  I doubt it.  The only smell here is the smell of grease and steam and the super-heated metals of the clockwork in my brain trying to make a decision.

"What decision could possibly have you in such turmoil?" you may ask yourself.

No, really.  You may now ask yourself that question.  I will wait.

Done?  Took long enough.  Well, I will tell you, since you are so interested.  It has been posed to me that I should incorporate a vlog into my blog.  For those of you who don't know, a vlog is a blog that has video elements.

"Yay!  Something other than these boring diatribes!"

Nope.  What has been proposed to me is that I should record a video and audio file of my opinions, thoughts, and news.  Then you could actually tell when I'm being sarcastic!  Tone is SO hard to convey through text.

Now, I would like to ask you, my fans, a question.  Do you want to see and hear me deliver my blog posts?  I would probably still do a few text formatted posts, just speckle in a few videos.  Maybe even some action movie reviews...

I consider myself too shy to do something like that.  But I am here, with decent frequency, spilling my thoughts, actions, and feelings into this blog (which I have been told is an outdated format and I need to get rid of it).  Let me know.  Send me an email at thescamppuppy@yahoo.com or just leave a comment below and let me know what you think.  I know I can turn a phrase fairly well, but can I make love to a camera?  Wait, that's models?  What do vloggers do?  Oh...  Can I keep people interested in seeing and hearing me long enough to get my point across?  Only time and you, my fans, will tell.

*clang, clang, clang, SKREEEEEEEE, silence*

DAMMIT, STANLEY!  If it falls off of the engine, REPLACE IT!

Excuse me, I need to go toss my EX mechanic overboard into the cumulonimbus.  Anybody know how to work a steam engine and needing a job?  You get a cut of my take from the, erm, "jobs" I do...  Let me know, because Stanley is OUT!

TTFN, ta ta for now!

Walking Near Memphis

Hello again, my intrepid readers!  You may be asking yourself, “Wow, two posts in two days?!?!  It must be a special occasion!”  Well, it is.  After I got off the train in Schenectady, I went back to the house I was staying at and packed up what was remaining of my things.  I got about 4 hours of sleep, then got into the car with my ex Owner to begin our adventure!  This adventure is a more permanent one, however, as I have just gotten out of the car back in Tennessee.  I’m not in the part of Tennessee I was in before I went to New York, but I’m not too far away, either.  I have moved in with two very special people to me.  I would say friends, but they are more like family.  I can tell they are like family because they are willing to put up with me.

The car ride was rather uneventful, to say the least.  We took 81 South to Knoxville, then 40 West all the way to Brownsville.  Because of Mama Ace giving me a few of my new found love (melatonin), I slept through most of the trip.  I happened to wake up a few times (usually as we were stopping for fuel or a break or food), which worked out rather well for me.  I got a few cigarette breaks (when we stopped), and that kept ALL of us happy.  The most interesting part of the trip was the interchange coming through Nashville when we had to follow 40 West.  My ex Owner was worried about the interchange and traffic, but I helped him avoid 440, and we had no problem whatsoever.  After that, it was smooth sailing.  We brought some prepackaged foods and drinks with us, and I snacked on the crackers, pepperoni, beef jerky, and Fritos.  That combination made me VERY happy for the bathroom breaks.  The parts of the trip I was awake for were uneventful, but apparently we also almost got hit by a semi…

It’s an odd feeling, knowing that you will most likely never see someone again after spending nearly a year with them.  I think that splitting now was the best thing for all of us.  Maybe we’ll stay in touch.  Maybe not.  I learned a good deal in my time there; about myself, the world, and even more topics.  I keep adding to my repertoire, increasing the frequency with which I find myself saying I’m a “Jack of all trades, Master of none”.  Eventually, I will achieve my goal of becoming a modern day MacGuyver (Richard Dean Anderson is YUMMY).  I already carry around the bag full of random crap, just in case.

I am still riding the wave of positive emotion left over from my trip to New Jersey.  It’s good to feel like myself again.  Now, being back in TN with my friends, and even more of my friends not far away, I’m really getting a sense of self again.  I’ll miss the friends I made in New York.  But, as a wise man once said, “Ch-ch-ch-changes, turn and face the strange.”  My life keeps changing and moving forward.  I can only hope that it’s for the better.

TTFN, ta ta for now!

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love New Jersey

Greetings and salutations, my loyal crew of web-crawling airship pirates!  I say that because anyone who reads my blog is an honorary member of my crew.  As I write this, it is 4:00 pm on February 2^nd.  This train (which I will be on for another three and a half hours) is the first train I have been on that does NOT have wi-fi.  Your fearless captain will make the best of the situation (and probably end up watching some movies).  I know it has been nearly two weeks since my last entry, but I have been busy having fun!  Yes, that is right, FUN!  I know that I hop around a lot, that my life has been a *bit* more adventurous than most of my friends’ lives, and that unfortunate circumstances seem to flock to me like the Alliance troopers to an unlicensed Firefly class transport ship, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  I get to see, smell, hear, taste, and feel SO many amazing and wonderful things!  Not to mention the people I have met along the way.  I will now regale you with a bit of my New Jersey adventure (as the train trip in a few of my previous posts planted me in Philly, but my friends live in Jersey).

I was understandably nervous about visiting Ace, Milo, and Phin (and Pyro, who came up a few days later).  I happen to be one of those people that you either love and would do anything for, or hate and wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.  This is my station in life.  I have accepted it, but it still makes me worry when I meet people for the first time.  That being said, just the car ride from Philadelphia to Ace’s house told me that we were going to get along great.  Ace shares many of my interests.  He’s the only other person I’ve met that also collects Tiggers.  He is an AB/DL who wanted to explore his puppy side.  I’m a puppy who was curious about the diaper scene (and believe-you-me, this trip let me explore that; more on that in a bit).  We listen to similar music.  We like similar shows.  We have similar outlooks on life.  Ace is a sweetie, and I am EXTREMELY glad that I struck up that first conversation on www.fetishmen.net with him.  Mama Ace, here’s hoping nobody tries to install any third party software…  *insert Bjork airport fight scene growl here*

Ace’s boyfriend Milo is a car geek.  And a Pokemon geek.  And a Disney channel geek.  I can’t fault him for his interest in cars.  That might have been the only thing that we didn’t have in common.  He’s a sweet guy.  He gets the raw deal when it comes to poking and prodding from his friends, but he usually takes it in stride.  I was glad that I could take some of the burden from him as far as the insults, the jabs, and the VICIOUS tickle attacks that I received while I was there.  Milo is the master of the unintentional cheesy pun.  And the occasional “bad joke is bad” moment.  Honestly, he seemed to be more comfortable and easy going when it was just he and I at WalMart (where I tried to get him to get hipster/nerd frame glasses, but he ended up taking my suggestion of the rimless frames).  He was also the first person to ever put me in a diaper.  Milo, I am happy you have found your frog in shining armor (oh, Kermie…).  Also, baaaaaaaaa means no!

What can I say about Phin that hasn’t already been said about that pig with a heart of gold, Babe?  He is blunt, honest, protective, funny, cuddly, and awesome.  His tastes also run along the same lines as mine.  He loves Eeyore (my second favorite character from Winnie the Pooh).  I drew him a picture of an anthropomorphic baby dolphin and that sparked everyone else to want pictures drawn of them, too.  The funny part is that when I drew him the picture, I had no idea that he lived with Ace and that I would get to meet him, too!  I got to cuddle up to Phin in bed until Pyro got there, and I was happy for the time.  Phin had a tendency to snatch me up by the mohawk like it was some kind of puppy handle (which I had to pretend to hate).  He also discovered my secret, deadly tickle spot (which I will not divulge here).  Phinny, may the tuna nets never find you, and may your caffeine ever flow freely.  Before I forget to tell you, the cuddles meant the world to me.

Pyro, Pyro, Pyro…  What’s in a name?  I happened to mention the shape of his nose (specifically, I said “Jew-beak”) ONE TIME, and he never let me forget it.  I was constantly amazing him with my taste in music (because let’s face it, my musical tastes place me between the ages of 30 and 40, not my current age of 23).  He seemed to also agree with my taste in movies, food, books, and pretty much everything else.  Pyro is Phin’s Daddy and I tried to make sure I wasn’t leeching all of the time they could spend together.  I was glad that he decided to visit at the same time as me.  He kept me company while everyone else was at work, we made each other laugh, and there was that wild, high-class porno sex marathon we had (I am only kidding, Phin!  Please do not hunt me down!)  Pyro played with me, gave me a bath, helped Phin cut up my steak so I could eat it like a real puppy, and generally didn’t seem to mind that I was stuck up his ass for most of my trip.  Pyro, here’s hoping that you find every success in the medical field and that you and Phinny stay together for a LONG time.  By the way, I took the gold you had stored in your Jew-beak.  Bring me Jon Stewart, Adam Sandler, and half of Lenny Kravits if you ever want to see it again.

This trip was a very good thing for me.  I got to wear a diaper for the first time.  *SPOILER ALERT* they are comfortable as hell!  I got a puppy bath, got to eat like a puppy, played tug, got pets and belly rubs and scritches…  Ace and Phin took me to see Beauty and the Beast in 3D.  I got two new chew toys (a Kong brand dog toy shaped like a pacifier, and a real, adult sized pacifier).  I got to eat at a nice diner, Cracker Barrel, a pretty good local steak joint, and a decent amount of fast food.  I think I drank more Coca-Cola than water in the last (nearly) two weeks.  I got two new Tiggers (a Halloween one that dances to the Addams Family song and a PILLOW PET!!!) and a head massaging spider looking thing that sends orgasmic waves of pleasure to your very soul.  I got to be sucking on a pacifier in public while people stared but were too afraid to say anything (let’s just throw this out there, if you don’t know me, I look QUITE intimidating).  Above and beyond any of the food, movies, toys, or anything else that I will treasure from this trip, I will ALWAYS carry the fond memories of my time with my new friends.  CHQ for life!

This train ride has been fun, as well (barring the lack of internet access on the long haul train from NYC to Schenectady).  Still managed to luck out with my own seat.  Plenty of leg room.  Much faster and easier than a bus.  In NYC, a WOOFY salt-and-pepper Daddy Bear bummed a cigarette off of me and kept giving me a *look*.  Shortly after that, a woman was basically begging for money for food for herself and her daughter.  I took her into DuaneReade and got them a decent sized sandwich, some chips, and some vitamin water with my food stamps.  Remember that Daddy Bear from before?  He saw what I did and invited me to lunch with him at TGI Friday’s!  Apparently, I’m a hell of a catch and my heart of gold sealed the deal.  Eric, if you are reading this, WOOF and don’t forget to drop me an email…  I also got to walk around inside Madison Square Gardens, went up and down Seventh Avenue a bit, and turned down seven different scalpers with various (supposedly legitimately) cheap tickets to an array of shows and events.

I’m going to give my fingers a break and watch a movie now.  I will post this as soon as I am able.  I hope you enjoyed this look into my trip and my friends.  Though my trip is over, my adventure is just beginning anew.  Stay tuned to find out what awaits your peerless Captain in the mysterious land of Memphis!  For now, just mind your spanners and tighten those bolts!  We’re losing steam pressure!

ADDENDUM:

We stopped in Albany and had to wait an hour for them to add a car to the train.  But the train didn’t get there in the hour we were waiting.  That set us behind nearly forty five minutes.  All of that because they slightly overbooked and needed to add a snack car...  That wasn’t TOO bad, but listening to all of the other passengers bitching about it made it unbearable.  We finally got underway and I made it back to Schenectady safely.  Finishing the last of the packing and tomorrow I head out!

TTFN, ta ta for now!

A Ruff Life (a story I wrote a while back)

A while back, I wrote a (mostly) fiction piece about puppy play.  I reveal quite a bit about myself in it, as the "dream sequence" is 100 percent true.  Mostly ripped from a journal entry.  I hope you enjoy it.

~~~~~

I stretch awake, slowly opening my eyes to greet the morning sun. The alarm is going off, but He isn't waking up. I pounce and lick his face, nibbling at His ears when I come to them.

“Right, Scamp. I'm up, pup! Calm down!” He shouts, trying to sound firm and commanding through fits of laughter.

The sleep begins to clear from His head as He reaches over to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock.

“Daddy needs five more minutes, Scamp,” He explains, staring into my eyes. He then starts giving me lots of head rubs and scratches; my snooze button.

I calm down and lay my head on His chest, licking absently. I softly nuzzle and cuddle as close as possible without climbing completely on top of Him.

“Woof, aruff!” I bark softly, happy for more cuddle time.

We lay there, Daddy and pup, enjoying what time we have left before the day has to start. I almost fall back asleep as the alarm goes off again. I whimper as Daddy starts to get out of bed.

“No reason to be sad, Scamp. You've been a good pup, so no kennel today. But I had better not come home to a mess today!” He quipped as He walks out of the bedroom. He whistles for me; I come running. He is standing near the door with my leash. Daddy clicks my leash on and removes my tail. We walk outside for me to do my business; morning walkies. I pull against my leash, eager to see if there is anything new in the garden, but Daddy holds firm. Not wanting to spend all day in the kennel, I do my business and pad back towards the door, stopping only once to roll around in the crisp morning air.

“Good pup,” Daddy gushes as He rubs me all over to get the sticks and grass off. He opens the door, hangs up the leash, and calls me into the bathroom for a bath. He draws the water and removes my mitts and collar, helping my into the tub. He then washes me up, towels me off, and replaces my mitts, collar, and tail.

“Somebody is being an extra good pup today,” He remarks.

I tilt my head and look around for the other pup.

“No, silly! It's you!” He laughs as He ruffles my still damp mo-hawk

I jump up, putting my paws on his shoulders and licking his face all over. He smirks and rubs my chest.

“Breakfast time, Scamp. Who's hungry?” He asks as He turns and walks from the bathroom.

I give myself a final shake-dry for good measure and follow my Owner into the kitchen where He is making breakfast.

He sits at the table and begins to eat. I whimper and nuzzle at His legs.

“Oh, Scamp! Forgot all about you!” He teases before putting my bowl on the floor at His feet.

I wag happily and eat, making a bit of a mess. When we have finished, Daddy cleans me up and gives me lots of belly rubs.

While He is getting ready for work, I playfully hinder Him by laying on his shoe so He can't find it.

He makes a show of trying to locate it his missing shoe, knowing exactly where it is. Daddy ALWAYS seems to know.

I whimper as He grabs his keys and starts for the door.

“Now Scamp, somebody has to pay for all of your toys and treats, right?” He explains.

I whimper softly and give Him puppy eyes in a last ditch effort to get Him to stay home.

He ruffles my mo-hawk It almost seems like He is about to forget all about work when He slips out the door, locking it behind Himself.

I scratch at the door for a little bit. I then circle three times and lay in my puppy bed, drifting back to sleep. That's when the dream came again...

.....

Two years ago...

Shivering, not from the cold (as it was June), but from fear of what had been. What was. What could be. I sat locked in the closet of the abandoned apartment I had been squatting in; no power and no water. Desperate texts to all of my friends, “Hey lol, sup? Wanna hang?” Concealing the pain of my real voice in the deceptively upbeat words.

“I just need human contact,” I moaned pitifully into the closet door, “Someone to hold me close and tell me everything is going to be OK.”

That's where life had taken me. My mother had kicked me out of the house that I was paying most of the bills at, simply because I lost my job. I spent a little bit of time (about three weeks) living out of a '96 Nissan Sentra on the streets of Downtown Nashville. At first I had try to make the most of it; a new adventure. But the danger and fear had definitely outweighed the fun. Most nights spent parked outside a 24 hour adult novelty store; my sanctuary and bathroom. Propositioned multiple times for sex for cash; surprised with myself when I started to consider accepting. That's when I decided to seek a more permanent shelter. A shelter which came in the form of an apartment that a friend was moving out of without notice.

As I sat in the closet, dark thoughts started to enter my head. I shook my head and body fitfully, trying to clear the thoughts away. That's when a surprising sound broke the eerie silence. I howled mournfully, a soul splitting sound.

I jumped, shocked at what had just escaped my lips. This was new. I had always had some dog-like qualities. Loyal, trusting, loving, and friendly; me to a “T”. At Dungeons & Dragons sessions with my friends, if I got too hyper, they would pet me to get me to shut up. I had always left decision making up to other people, following them around like a lost puppy and eating whatever was set in front of me. I had never slept better than when somebody was scratching my head (especially behind the ears). But this, the howling, was definitely new.

I heard the neighbors in the adjacent apartment bang on the wall and was tempted to howl again, just for the attention. Logic told me not to.

Slightly calmed down and just the smallest bit more at peace, I slipped into a fitful sleep and dreamed of being a dog; running through a field without a care in the world.

.....

I shoot awake, startled by something. Daddy was laying with me, stroking me and looking worried.

“Scamp, you were whining and kicking in your sleep, pup. The dream again?” He asks, concern flooding his voice.

I nod and whimper, nuzzling into his chest.

He grabs my head and stares into my eyes lovingly. At that moment a feeling of warmth and safety fills me up, chasing away the remnants of the dream. I look back up at him adoringly.

That's when I am thankful for everything that has happened in my life. The happiness and sorrow has made me who I am and brought me where I am.

Where I am is exactly where I'm supposed to be.

~~~~~

CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is always welcome.

TTFN, ta ta for now!

Pup on a Train! Addendum!

Well, I had the 30 minute layover in New York City.  I've never been to New York City.  Of course this meant I had to leave the station and explore, even if only a little bit.  It was a bit of a trek, as Pennsylvania Station is freaking HUGE!  But I made it outside into the cold, crisp air.  I walked a bit until I was directly in front of Madison Square Gardens and lit a cigarette.  I was enjoying myself, so I wanted to call one of my friends and tell them.  She put me on speaker phone, and I got to say hi to everybody and tell them about my adventure.

An awesome tranny walked up to me asking if she could buy a cigarette.  She gave me a dollar in quarters and proceeded to make me laugh for like 5 minutes.  Then, 6 different scalpers tried to sell me Knicks tickets.  I tried to explain to them that I was broke and about to get on a train, but that didn't seem to help.

"Come on, man, you know they ain't gettin' any cheaper inside!  I gotta feed my family, dude!"

"I get that, but I have like a dollar in quarters that a tranny just paid me for a cigarette."

"Oh, a'ight.  Can I buy a smoke off you?"

Once that was all said and done, I trekked back into the train station just as they announced which track my train was boarding at.  I know it was only a half hour in New York City, but the 10 minutes I spent on the NYC streets was one of the most interesting 10 minutes I've had in a while.

Now I am back on the train.  For bonus points, it's a refurbished business class car.  Free upgrade!  No complimentary snacks or beverages though.  This has certainly been an experience, and I'm not even in Philly yet!  What adventures await me now?

TTFN, ta ta for now!

Pup on a Train!

"Enough is enough!  I've had it with this motherfucking pup on this motherfucking train!"

No, but seriously.  As I type this, I am on a train headed for a short layover in NYC and then on to Philly to visit friends.  This is my first time on a train, and I have to say that Amtrak is pretty nice.  It beats the hell out of Greyhound, that's for sure.  I was worried it would be a hassle, but train travel is definitely my favorite mode of long range transportation now.  Well, other than driving myself.

The seats are comfortable, and there is room to breathe.  I was lucky enough to get a seat to myself, though, honestly, there aren't that many people on the train.  And there is a food car!  I thought the food car was a thing of an era long forgotten, but there is a "Cafe Car" on the train!  It's like 6 bucks for a hamburger and I have zero money, but it's nice to know that it's there.

I always romanticized train travel.  I think it's my addiction to steampunk.  I saw myself sipping brandy from a snifter, dressed in my finery, discussing Professor Something-Or-Other's latest invention (which I always assumed would be a steam powered hat rack) with a handsome gentleman who seems less interested in the story and more interested in me.  Then we would close the car doors, pull the shades, and...  Well, let's just say that I read one too many of my mother's romance novels when I broke my ankle in 2006.

It's not a private car setup (like the Hogwarts Express), which makes me have a bit of a sad.  But I can live with this.  In case it wasn't obvious due to the fact that I am posting this from the train, it also has Wi-Fi.  And outlets so that my computer doesn't go dead and leave me trapped on the train with no escape into the outside world of social media.  I have a small bottle of pink lemonade that I brought from home, so I have a feeling that by the time I get where I'm going I will be quite hungry and thirsty.  And in need of nicotine.  But, I digress.  All in all, I can't complain about this adventure.

New experiences, new places, and new friends await me.  Who knows where I will end up next?  Now, if you will excuse me, that handsomely dressed gentleman just invited me for brandy in his private car.  I get the feeling I've seen him somewhere before...  Is that a steam powered hat rack?!?!

TTFN, ta ta for now!

Projects in the works.

I'm sorry it has been a while since I have updated everyone, or posted any fun new information.  I've been working on a few projects and trying to get a bit of stuff done.  I've been working on a ballad.  I know.  I'm awesome.  It's a steampunk themed ballad with treasure, pirates, and romance.  It's coming along nicely, and I should be able to post the finished product soon.  Want to know the best part?  A British singer/composer friend of mine is helping me make a rough cut of it!  I should be able to post the lyrics, and then eventually the song!  That has always been a dream of mine.  To hear something I've written put to music.  Well, something other than a punk song.  Those are too easy lol.

I've been trying to keep my mind busy because I have a lot going on.  I'm mentally preparing for a move to a couple of very good friends in Tennessee.  I haven't seen them in nearly a year, and I'm looking forward to seeing all of my friends in Tennessee.  I might even be able to make it to Ides of March (Dagorhir event in March).  That would be a great coming home party.

I will be putting more informative things and more personal things up here, but I am also going to be a bit disheveled for the next few weeks.  Bear with me, as I go through these changes.  I know you won't leave me, my adoring readers, and I will do my best to make this blog worth your while.

TTFN, ta ta for now!

Steampunk. All the history, twice the goggles!

I have a great many interests. They range wildly from video games, reading, classic TV, LARP, D&D, and even cooking. Every once in a while, we find a subculture that speaks to us. I'm lucky enough to belong to a good deal of them. One of my favorite subcultures (if you couldn't infer from the title of the post) is steampunk. Steampunk has a lot of definitions. Steampunk, as defined by wikipedia, is "a sub-genre of science fiction, fantasy, alternate history, and speculative fiction that came into prominence during the 1980s and early 1990s. Steampunk involves a setting where steam power is still widely used—usually Victorian era Britain or "Wild West"-era United States—that incorporates elements of either science fiction or fantasy. Works of steampunk often feature anachronistic technology, or futuristic innovations as Victorians might have envisioned them, based on a Victorian perspective on fashion, culture, architectural style, art, etc. This technology includes such fictional machines as those found in the works of H. G. Wells and Jules Verne, or the contemporary authors Philip Pullman, Scott Westerfeld and China Mieville. Other examples of steampunk contain alternative history-style presentations of such technology as lighter-than-air airships, analog computers, or such digital mechanical computers as Charles Babbage and Ada Lovelace's Analytical engine. Various modern utilitarian objects have been modded by individual artisans into a pseudo-Victorian mechanical "steampunk" style, and a number of visual and musical artists have been described as steampunk."

Purist steampunks will often tell you that if you don't do things exactly their way, you can get the hell off of their airship.  I take a much more "broad spectrum" approach to my steampunk ideals.  An anachronistic history of Victorian England can be viewed as many things.  As it didn't actually happen that way, who is to say that certain elements the purists deem "unfit" might not have become created and implemented (to a degree which would actually make sense within the confines of the genre)?  By this, I mean that if it could reasonably be seen as a technological or sociological advancement which could be achieved with the levels of technology already present in the genre, go for it.  The biggest thing that I see happening (which I somewhat agree with the purists about) is the integration of cyberpunk into steampunk settings.  I have no quarrel with the cyberpunks (as it is another genre that catches my fancy), but I wouldn't mix Star Trek (science fiction) with Dagorhir (medieval fantasy combat).

The sound of ticking clockwork is quite often the first thing that people will think of when they hear the word "steampunk".  Clockwork does play an important role.  Mechanized carriages, clockwork dolls, even artificial life can be common themes within the genre.  Another aspect (which does not ALWAYS have to be incorporated) is the airship.  Most often a form of dirigible, the airship opens up the steampunk genre to one of my favorite aspects of the subculture; airship pirates!  Most often painted as the romantic brigand (and protagonist of the story), the airship pirate is a steampunk Robin Hood.  This isn't to say that you don't get your Blackbeards, simply that the pirate seems to be one of the archetypes of the genre that people relate to and sympathize with.

The dress style of steampunk should normally fit with the Victorian (or sometimes Edwardian) setting.  Now, this, one might think, could limit your wardrobe choices.  Most people don't realize that the clothing of these eras was as vast and varying as our own fashion world today.  Each class had it's own wardrobe, with variations therein.  Certain professions had a recognizable uniform.  Even people wearing the same basic outfit could differentiate themselves with accessories of wildly ranging complexity and style.  The same applies for steampunk.  Another complaint that many steampunks have is that those new to the genre think that everything HAS to be brown.  Yes, colors existed in Victorian times.  Now, you shouldn't make a brocade doublet in neon pink, but use colors (within reason).

The music, literature, fashion, and everything else associated with steampunk draws me in like the smell of oil burning on the moving parts of my airship's engine.  It is a fun hobby and, due to the increasing popularity, a widespread art form.  You can find steampunk things on almost any website that sells things.  One of my favorites is etsy.  On etsy, you can find the craftsmanship of artisans all over the world.  On the other hand, etsy can sometimes offer "steampunk" objects which are not even close to fitting within the genre.  A lot of people have tried to cash in on the growing popularity of the genre by painting things copper and gluing a gear or two to them.  This does not a steampunk object make.  If you have the time and patience to wade through to find the better things, etsy is well worth your while.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post, but my airship is about to leave without me.  Blasted crew thinks they can leave their captain behind?  We'll see who's laughing when I put the mechanical spiders that I bought in London in each and every one of their bunks.

TTFN, ta ta for now.