Skaldic Ramblings: Diatribes of the world through a Northern myth perspective

I have a killer idea for a story. A sibling is jealous of his older brother's family and life he has made for himself. The brother has a new son to continue the father's legacy. The jealous sibling takes umbrage at this and sets forth a chain of events that kills the brother, exiles the son, and usurps the place in the village. Just wait. It gets better! The son survives, and he is thrown off in to the wilderness to fend by his lonesome where he finds new friends, new lessons, and himself. With this knowledge, they are able to return home to reclaim their father's mantle and set right the sins done upon the land. Sounds Shakespearean, eh? I'm hooked. What is the setting?  Southern Africa. Awesome! A cradle of civilization, millennia of rich histories that Western audiences have only begun to appreciate (self-included). The land where most of us come from I am liking it so far. What is the aural experience going to be like?  Primeval, but comforting. We got music from se

 Before you read further, the following entry is a matter of spiritual belief. It also might a little dark at times. Take with it what you will. Also, know that all knowledge is a tool or a weapon. It is the choice of the wielder to choose how to use it. The concept of reincarnation is not new to anybody right? The idea that the soul keeps returning to a fleshly form, over and over? I have no proof of it! That's fine. This is also not my first time on this plane. Everybody dreams, even me, though I don't remember them most of the time. Which really sucks, because I would imagine at a few times in my life I have been genuinely happy, and think well maybe a nice dream will make things a lil better moment, but eh, whatever. Matt, you just glossed over a kind of a bit of a mindbender. Could you go back and talk a little more about the whole, "Not the first time on this plane" thing? That seems a little different to just put out there.  I'm getting there! Damn. I never

 Yesterday was a bit of a day.  I overdid it. I depleted my battery. I was done with "adulting," and wanted to shout the world apart with the "Wrath of the North," as I melodramatically call it. I do call it that. I am not kidding. Digression. I was ready for the day. I took my meds. I had some oranges and a protein shake. I even pre-emptively cut off my sleeves, and saved them to use a handkerchief while in the car. I was ready to vote with education on my candidates and local referendum on the ballot. I was going to a new polling place! I was ready to make some money, and see what the concrete waterways have to show me.  *Loudspeaker crackles: "We are in for some chop." *Crrch. Fuck. The Sun's Anvil fell upon me. All my well-laid plans were for naught at the first engagement with the sun. I responded accordingly, and took breaks through the day.  *Score from Lawrence of Arabia swells in to audible decibel level, not the grand, elegant melody, portray

Everybody has those prominent memories in their childhood; their first kiss, their first beer, the first car they totaled. Was that just a me memory? Whatever.  One of my early memories recently resurfaced. ADHD is one of those wonderful things where I can forget a lot of things, but sometimes then a spectrum disorder likes to also rear its head and just store it away in a file in a different drive. I might call that my "A-Drive," maybe not though. I digress. It was a dark, and stormy night. I'm not kidding. The family was driving north through the dark forests of upstate New York to visit the family's cabin. I was under the age of 5. I remember waking up in the back of the family station wagon. A brilliantly faded "Tobacco Tooth" yellow American sedan. It was the chic-family vehicle before the Dodge Caravan showed up and continues to not go away.  I was jostled by a bump from the car. There was as distant lowing of thunder. I rubbed my eyes to clear away so

 This is a story of how I almost died. I will set the scene for you.  It was a summer day in the early 90's. Clinton had just taken Office. Some of the stupidity of Reaganism was washing away and right smack dab in the middle of northern Lancaster County is the village of Penryn. This glorious little hamlet features Uibelhál, a former lodging house turned glowing white fortress, overlooking sloping hills, with a beautiful south facing slope that at the time was flourishing with apple, and cherry trees, grapevine arbors, a giant elm tree, and a hot tub where my brother and I were fucking around. Sounds idyllic, eh? It was my favorite place to explore as a kid, and the nostalgia in the soil is as rich as the nutrient still.  I was 4 or 5 years old. My brother, Dave, is ~4 years older than me, so he always looked after me when I wasn't finding the immediate combo of words to piss him off.  My weirdly-shaped head with its ashen blond hair leading the way at all times has put me in

 I have been playing around with rune carving over the past few months and I started drawing up some bind runes. Bind runes in heathenry are thought to have a magical effect and can be protective or detrimental. The first one I drew was a bind rune featuring Elder Futhark translated in to my surname.  A friend of mine asked me what it meant and to be honest, I rarely think things through to the complete end because my brain is hyper enough to try and play out that equation in my head. Thanks ADHD. However, the meaning immediately popped in to my head.  "Remember where you come from." The name Mangus  is an old name. At first glance, its very Scottish. The Mangus' were Strathclyde-Britons that moved in to the Grampian mountains of Scotland. They were there a long time in fact were likely pissing off Romans long before.  Most kids around here growing up were assigned to look back through their familial history. My mother's side is cool and well-developed (I will write a