LAAAARRRPPPPPP

So a batch of my Bennington friends and our two guests LARPed yesterday. And it was magnificent fun, at least for me. Except for when I got my hand whapped during a quarterstaff fight--my dominant hand, no less. (Big bloodblister on my thumb, and swelling in my first two fingers and vaguely infected shit about the tip of my forefinger.) Which means I'm typing painfully slowly, which means I'll have to be scanty on the details. But I was so wonderfully deep into my character, this lame vagabond exiled monk in his sixties. I wish I could describe what it felt like to, upon hearing something terribly important to him, begin crying, and in a way I myself never cry. Distantly aware in the back of my mind as myself what was happening, that I was Tarsius, that he was crying, but nothing more than that between myself and the story.

I do need to update more often. So much I wish to say. But at the moment, life is terribly good.

Off to Wal-fart. *pries self away from new duel chori*