Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from Willkenyon.com!
For several years, my wife and I managed - just like many of you - to send out a whole host of Christmas cards (as well as generic Happy Holiday cards for our many Jewish, Muslim, and atheist friends). For a couple of years though, we’ve kinda NOT done it. I mean, there’s a whole lotta you guys out there that we love (especially you of course!) and time goes by really quickly and by the time we think of it, it’s too late.
But this time! This time, I thought, why not? I’ve got a forum that many, many, many of our friends pay some moderate attention to at least, so why not send a sort of holiday greeting to you via it?
So here it is. And yeah, it’s a Merry Christmas for us and from us, but here’s hoping you non-Christmas celebrators had a great Hannukkah or Kwanzaa or whatever you atheist folks celebrate.
It’s a picture of Madeleine and Eli. We’ve received a lot of kiddie pics from a lot of you guys, so we’ll join the bandwagon. You really don’t want to see my ugly mug anyway.
Happy Holidays, all. We love you.
Rainy Day Poetry
Today I’m sitting around procrastinating and playing with my son Eli. Outside, it’s raining - it’s going to rain all weekend, looks like - and I’m feeling a little punch drunk because I haven’t been sleeping enough this week. Still, I’m feeling pretty good, because I’ve put a lot into my novel this week, and after this week’s done, we’ll have the weekend ahead of us, followed by a week dominated by school and DragonCon. More on that when it arrives.
The weather and Eli’s sweet little voice are making me feel poetic. So no sharp words today. No angst or pointed discussion. At least not here and not yet.
Instead, I’ll share a couple of poems with you.
The first one is a poem I got published when I was in Grad School at NYU. It appeared in a little student journal called New Ink. I don’t think it was that good, but it’s kind of pretty, and has a couple of good lines in it. The version which appears here is edited slightly from the version which appeared in the magazine - I wanted to improve the poem, and since it IS mine, I can.
Temporal Warp
Smiles
and raised eyebrows
Balloons and spiced tea
Why don’t you sit across from me?
I lean back into my reject velvet purple shiny armchair
Chinese food stains all over my de facto bib
I found it (the armchair) alongside you my dear
Next to the trash bin, in the freezing cold
Took it inside
And you followed me, sniffling
Right after that, the world did a little jiggidy-jig
And I was reaching for something on my right with my left hand
Cushions
and cigarette curly smoke
Candle wax and organ chords
Why don’t you relax and share some words?
I sip my fat free aspartame vanilla coffee
Watch you twitch and cough adroitly
And I wonder what follows this –
Bowl of nuts and scratchy ska albums
Despite the severity of weather
Despite the new tilt of the world
At least my hands are warm.
This next one is actually full of sharp words, so I apologize for suggesting there wouldn’t be any. Still, sharp words or not, this poem is actually a love poem of sorts to my brother, written to let him know that we didn’t have to compete with each other anymore…. We don’t, and we’re better people for it. This one appeared in the Spring 2000 Issue of The Spoon River Poetry Review.
To Jimmy
“Capacity is not the same thing as genius.”
- William Hazlitt
We’ve long sipped from the same flagon —
You call it a canteen, I call it a flagon.
And for quite a while you’ve owned a car
And I’ve been content with my sorcery, my linguistics, my urges
And my dragon.
You are the practical one; I am the practiced.
I’ve gathered experiences while you’ve planned your walks
I’ve stumbled in darkness, tripped over words
And you’ve filled out credit applications, weighed the checks and balances —
Arithmetic in chalks.
Long we lived together under one prodigious roof
And brotherly I mocked you and brotherly you cursed
I have scars on my inner thigh
And you over your blue right eye
You do the calculation, I will write the verse.
Though my words are sacrilegious, though your replies are terse.
Though in money you and hymen I are Cocytusly immersed
You do the calculation, brother, and I will write the verse.
Will’s Most Memorable Moments at The World Boardgaming Championships! Part THREE!
When last we left off, I was DESTROYING Ben, Jason, and Andy in Twilight Imperium. I had 7 out of the 9 points I needed to win, I had my Secret Objective – and I didn’t tell you this part, but I’d also blown up Andy’s Space Dock on the planet Arcturus, which was enough to get me the 2 points I needed to bring it all home.
Then the phone rang.
Now, I have a policy that when the phone rings, unless I am absolutely unable to, I answer it. I may shoo you off as soon as I’m on with you, but I will pay you the courtesy of at least acknowledging that you called. Unlike Michael Barnes.
You can test me if you want….
Anyway, it was my wife Aida and I answered it – with every intention of saying hey and then shooing her off so that I could get back to the game. I love her, but when I’m in the middle of something like Twilight Imperium, it’s difficult to demonstrate my love – the plastic pieces are calling, my friends/opponents are waiting, and it’s not fair to her that I’m only half listening.
Unfortunately, in this instance, I couldn’t shoo her off; something was up, something akin to a minor midlife crisis: Aida was concerned about her future, her well-being, her health, etc., and she needed me to listen to her vent. I stepped away from the table and strolled around the gaming room, listening – just listening – like a good husband should.
I hope she felt better after that; I’d like to think she did.
I hope it was worth it, too, because when I got back to the TI3 table 15 minutes later, Ben had devised the most elaborate plan imaginable to take my Home System, using Andy (naturally) as an unwitting accomplice. In TI3, if you don’t control your Home System, you can’t score any more points….
I sat down and Ben casually mentioned that he was going to take my Home. I stopped, and for several long minutes stared at the board, breaking down permutations and maneuvers and possibilities. I couldn’t see HOW he could do it, so I confidently continued playing for my win. I figured he was full of shit.
Ten minutes later he had a huge fleet in my Home System and I was locked out.
Now… ordinarily, this wouldn’t be that bad – even though this was a qualifying round for the TI3 final the next day. Except for two things:
1) There is NO WAY Ben and Andy could have concocted a plan like they did had I been at the table. But I wasn’t AT the table….
2) In most games, I would have had to sit there, trying to get my Home back for maybe an hour at the most (I finally got it back the same round Ben crossed the 9-point finish line for the win), but as I mentioned in my previous post, this game took nearly NINE HOURS. I literally sat there for nearly FOUR HOURS, unable to score a point and trying desperately to get back in the game my with a scant fleet and almost no resources. Four hours of just sitting there, suffering.
I think I would have enjoyed having bamboo wedges shoved under my fingernails just about as much. And if you’d have been me and this had been your first or second or third game of TI3, I’d understand completely if you swore you’d never play the game again.
The End/Summation
Okay. I’ve drawn this tale out into three whole posts. And to be honest, as much fun as I had at the WBC, the memory of it is fading and other things are shoving my WBC adventures to the back of my mind – things like last weekend’s gaming session (more Twilight, which I won, plus Smallworld, Dominion, Tales of The Arabian Nights, and Middle Earth Quest), my daughter’s first day at school, and my renewed enthusiasm for my novel. So I’ll simply share a few brief highlights with you and then wrap this up.
Charles
Charles Jenkins is one of my oldest and dearest friends. He lives in Pennsylvania, though, so I only get to see him about once a year. He came down for a few games on Friday and Saturday, and I gotta say – Charles hasn’t changed. In fact, I’d like to apologize now to that guy who was sitting with us at the bar Saturday night. That joke about hollowing out a turd and filling it with “cream” was in poor taste. But that’s Charles and me together for you.
Descent
Runemaster Thorn is fucked.
I don’t know what I enjoy more – playing the game of Descent, or the attention all my painted pieces tend to get at conventions. I’m no Richard Launius, but I’m fairly proud of my figurines – and painting them relaxes me kind of like knitting does for some people. The picture here features some of my work.
Battlestar Galactica with Canadians
Is fun. Bob, Dan, and Mike – if you’re out there, thank you for a riotous game that cracked me up and made me very happy, eh.
Everyone who I met at the WBC – thanks for a great time. I WON’T be back next year, since it falls on Aida’s birthday, but I’ll be around.
Eh?