Category Archives: General Wankage


The rustle of the door opening downstairs signals its arrival. With that soft noise, the fog rolls slowly up the staircase, cold and heavy and noxious. Engulfing everything, it soon obscures the bottom of the stairs from view.

But from the base of the staircase comes a piercing shriek. Rising like a siren’s wail, it pulses out in all directions, causing the glass to vibrate in the frame. Louder and softer, it ebbs and wanes with an unpredictable pattern. For a moment  it stops–and then, with the penetrating sharp staccato shriek of some small animal being devoured alive, in never-ceasing torment, it returns.

Doors slam and voices ring out, heavy feet pound up the stairs, down in the shrouded grey mist. The voices sound stressed, tense, often angry. You can never quite make out what they are saying, it sounds vaguely oriental (perhaps), but you can’t be sure because the siren cry often drowns out all other sounds. Perhaps they only sound angry because they must yell to be heard.

Like the narrator in a Poe story, I cover my ears, praying that some day soon it will end. But night after night, it continues. And like a Poe character, I fear that it just may be driving me mad.

How much worse for those poor, lost souls at the base of the stairs, so much nearer to the horror, the dreadful baleful inevitability that this evil will return again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next? How can they live with the sheer, inescapable Cthulhuian dread of what awaits them, and me, tomorrow at the same time?

I reach for the remote, increasing the volume, trying to block out the strange and awful cries. But it never does any good. Tomorrow, inevitably, my downstairs neighbors will again return.

It must be an Alien-Demon Spawn, I tell my wife. Nothing human could possibly make cries like that, surely.

RecDave Seal


This isn’t that post

I woke from a dream, just now. I was having one of those semi-lucid creative moments, when several post ideas were chained together into one delightful mega-post, with perfect segues from each theme to the next, verbal construction that dazzled with humor and interest and pathos and…it was going to be great!

This is not that post.

I got up and went to pee. And (as so often happens), during that few moments, the brilliant plan faded away. I could feel it dispersing…until I lost each and every plank in the platform of the self-evident brilliance was…just gone.

So I’ve gotta stow a notebook and a pen (or something) bedside so that I can scribble on the way to the potty. Try to save something, some core of idea(s)…

Because in the A.M. I will undoubtedly turn on the Idiot Box, watch the re-run of last night’s Walking Dead…and post some kind of drivel instead.

Sorry readers, that I have a bladder. Or else I would be in a furious keyboard-pounding haze of J.D. Salinger, and the next Great American Novel would be taking shape right now!

Damn you, Dr. Pepper company, damn you.  All your fault.

RecDave Seal

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.


Murphy says

I have a microwave with a little toaster-oven built in.

When the “food’s ready” ding goes off, I will open the wrong door first (choice of two!) at least 90% of the time.

Alzheimers? Gremlins? My toaster oven is cursed? Bad karma?

All available evidence points to: “You just eat too damned much”.

First Post! There has to be one!

Welcome aboard, to the ParkInkSpot. I’m your host, that guy up there in the Reclaiming Dave logo, and the designated primary whiner in this locality.

What needs to be reclaimed? Oh, my youth, several belt sizes, my sense of whimsy, direction. Simple stuff! Nothing to it! Just grow a pair, problem solved.

Hah, fooled you, this post is almost certain to be edited! As soon as I give birth to a brilliant direction for this Good Ship Blog to sail…

“Cap’n, she’s already leaking!”

Uh oh.