Id, I am.

Allow me to drop some knowledge on you, Freudian style.

I am the id, the devil on your shoulder who operates solely on achieving pleasure. I have no inhibitions and no restraints. I want to eat, I eat.

My opposite is the superego, the uppity angel on your shoulder. Nobody likes him/her. Nobody at all. He/she/it sucks. Lots.

The person who we haunt and screw over is the ego, who balances us and allows me my pleasure realistically while also satisfying little goodie two-shoes so he/she/it doesn't nag.*




*Nag nag nag.**

**Get off my blog, Superego.

Why Mister Man

You see, a child once asked me....

Why mister man do you smile?

So I said -

I wear the mask of comedy,
To hide the name my soul bears,
Acedia.
For mine is the sin of stagnation,
Yet all I want is to move forward.

And I went on my way, bearing the weight of my sins hidden in my heart, with a smile and a laugh and a wave to the precocious little child.

So I kept on living, moving from place to place, drifting without a care in the world. Then one day I happened upon a boy, more than a child but not quite yet a man.

Why mister man, he asked, do you cry?

So I said -

I wear the mask of tragedy,
To hide the name my soul bears,
Acedia.
For mine is the sin of stagnation,
Yet all I want is to move forward.

And I went on my way, bearing the weight of my sins hidden in my heart, with a tear and a frown and a wave to the wise young lad.

 So I kept on living as I was before, spinning my wheels as I drifted from town to town, waiting for someone to light a fire under my heart and thaw what had long ago frozen. Then one day I happened upon a man, still young in his days but with an old heart.

Why mister man, he asked, do you cry whilst smiling? Why do you laugh with tears in your eyes?

So I said -

I wear the masks of comedy and tragedy,
To hide the name my soul bears,
Acedia.
For mine is the sin of stagnation,
Yet all I want is to move forward. 

And I went on my way, bearing the weight of my sins hidden in my heart, waving to the young man with tears streaming down my face and a smile on my lips.  

Excalibur!

I found Excalibur, guys! I was wandering through medieval Britain, and found this sword in a rock. Let me send you a pic from my Eldritch smartphone.*

If I pull it out, I become King of, like, England or something, right? I should totally do that. Wait, gotta take a selfie first. Hmm.....maybe pose like this....? Stick my arm out like that....and....perfect!

Hey. Hey, wait. Wait, kid, what are you doing? Stop! That's my sword! Don't touch it! No, no! Don't pull it! HEY! I SAID STOP! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU AR-OW! WHAT THE HECK! I NEED THAT ARM!

Sorry guys, I'll be back. Gotta go kill King Arthur and eat Merlin. Also got to stitch my arm back on....or....just regrow it I guess. Bloody.


*The Ephone 5.

Indigestion Blues

Uuugh. Last week I ate Quiznos, and I suffered for it. What the heck do they put in those subs to give an Eldritch Abomination stomach cramps? Reminds me of that commercial they had a while back with these gross rats dancing in their ovens. I'd prefer the rats. I can eat rats without indigestion. Apparently I can't eat a chicken, bacon, and ranch from Quiznos, however, without indigestion.

I'll go trick Yog into eating there sometime.

The New Dere Archetype, Phersu-dere, or Sudere

So, I've created a new dere archetype, like tsundere or yandere. It is the Sudere, or Phersudere.


Sudere - When someone dere to you is also a genocidal, galaxy-devouring Eldritch Abomination with reality bending powers.

It's like.....the best new craze.

A Short, Four Line Poem

So, I read a thread on some forums about being thankful. This is my response.

As I lay to rest tonight,
I shall thank the stars that shine so bright,
For they guide me through the night,
Even when the distant lights aren't so bright.

- A poem by Phersu.

Hamlet - Phersu Edition

A missing, alternative scene of Hamlet, featuring Phersu. Totally real and legit. Written by Shakespeare and Phersu.


Hamlet -


Hamlet watched from his hiding place as his murderous uncle prayed, tempted to end him right then and there. But what if he did kill him now? Would he not go to heaven, being murdered during prayer?

"No. That's stupid. Just kill the bastard, Hamlet. Do it. Run him through, then let's go eat."

"Nay, dear Phersu, I can't allow the swine to ascend to Paradise."

"Hamlet, he murdered your father. He's going down to the bad place with pointy sticks and horrible marshmallows. Just kill him."

"But Phersu-"

"No! He's right there! Perfectly vulnerable!"

"I can't-"

"Everyone dies, Hamlet! Everyone dies if you don't just kill him now. Do it."

"That can't-"

"Your mom dies. Your friends die. Your girlfriend Ophelia kills herself because you suck at planning. Her brother dies. You die."

"Impossible!"

"You know who survives? Horatio. I mean, I like Horatio as much as the next guy, but seriously Hamlet. Just do it, you pansy."

"Hey!"

"Pansy say what? Pansy can't kill his uncle?"

"Stop that!"

"Pansy say stop? Pansy a little girl? Is that it, Pansy? You a little girl?"

"Rrrraaaaaaaaaaaagh!" Hamlet roars, fleeing from his cover and running his uncle through, killing him instantly.

"Damn right."

The End.