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Apart from its Justice Lord-ish story told in two hours of cut scenes, the game itself had only as much time in the PS3 as the last Street Fighter before being sent to 남재’s welcoming arms, but the prequel series has easily laid claim to a life of its own. And next year, John Constantine joins the fray, turning this humble videogame supplement into Alan-fucking-Moore’s Twilight of the Superheroes.

Tonight on yet another over-the-air retro network (seriously, they expect me to pay for dross like reality TV when I can watch this), I was reunited with that episode of the Six Million Dollar Man where Steve and a posse pursue a family of aliens with special abilities, the patriarch of which I had remembered fast-forwarding time to flee, but turns out he was only creating an illusion of themselves headed in another direction. Mystery of almost four decades solved.

A year or so later I’d be smitten with the proto-Robotech Micronauts toy line, but as ultimately unrewarding as it may be to eBay another magnetic Force Commander, it’s the Michael Golden art in the Marvel comics that still astounds me. And thanks to speedy seeders out there, I can bask in their beauty again.

Got them last night (late, as I’ve correlated) after realizing that I had seen “Hercules against the Mongols” before, and this moment in particular, when the titular character comes through for a hungry child:

Guild Wars 2 has lasted longer than I’d expected it to, without the least bit of the Ventrilo/TeamSpeak camaraderie from DCUO (which went through two “leagues” over little more than a year and a half), but as appealing the environment is for players without in-game ambition for the carrot chase—the longevity reflected outside it as well—I can’t see this matching my time in FFXI.

Dyed like this, the Black Lion outfit is a fair reminder of my first artifact set, which was such a challenge to obtain on my only job then (well, maybe not compared to the Black Belt), and stayed in my inventory for the duration, at least as macro swap gear. But of course, looks back then weren’t as customizable as they are now, and any good Monk showed up to party in the same ol’ Accuracy-laden Optical Hat and Scorpion Harness. Hoping for luck, I wore this on my legacy character to forge my first four exotic weapons tonight… and got none.

For two summers in college, before the advent of any respectable form of electronic media, I kept almost daily written journals of my dreams, which were obviously facilitated by lack then of distraction before the effort in transcription, but as they’ve returned to plague me again, I must reconsider the notion that the time of year plays some role in their occurrence, what with the television hiatus in full swing following the season finale of Game of Thrones.

Fargo was a disappointing follow-up to True Detective, but I insist it was Billy Bob Thornton’s malevolent character narrating the video on my phone that reminded me I was completely out of place among the beautiful cast in last night’s, even with super-speed. Maybe another man would’ve fallen for it, sold his soul or taken his own life, but I’ve grown too accustomed to my place in the alternative.