A wooden door, a heavy slab of oak stands hidden sunken in the walls of an assuming alley way.

Dark and ominous, it stands guard keeping away those who are unaware of its secrets.

Beyond the door is a cavern of red velvet and dark brown timber weather and aged.

Above is a gothic canopy inlaid with dark and dirty antique gold.

Along the walls gas lamps provide a dim yet warm light that dances around the room.

In the corner lies a long laquered bar of wood with secrets from decades past carved within it.

Beyond the table is a patient master who lends an ear to those in need of company, confession, or compassion.

Tonight, a young man spins a golden band on the bar while the master mixes a potion of liquers and seltzer.

The young man imbues the drink and lets his hand rest heavily on the ring.

It's a potion for the weakened, sick, and the weary that sets troubles and worries to sail off into a dark abyss.

Again, the young man spins the ring.  It spins and spins like a ballerina in an empty class room.

A short but brief smile visits the young man's face as the fleeting memories of pink slippers, tutus, and a soft smile on soft lips enter his mind.

The ring spins around the bar table and clashes into the glass of tonics and falls dead.

He winces as remorse and melancholy begins to pool in his eyes.

The young man orders more medicine for a sick heart and another secret is etched into the bar table.

In an unassuming alley way, a heavy oak door protects the secrets of its patrons.

 There was a time in my life when I used to write a lot of fiction.  Something about creating my own world and the people within passed the days so much quicker.  Then, I stopped.  Well, it's been a while, so I thought I'd start again.  I have a lot of random ideas in my head and after a recent email from a fan of one of my short stories written a few years ago I've decided it give it another shot.  

My current concept is based on the idea of China once again becoming an imperialistic state and using its present economic might to start a slow political take over of the United States.  My main protagonist grows up in a regular middle class family only to be violently thrown into a world of oppression and forced labor into a Chinese run sweatshop.  Under the conditions at hand, he finds a patriotic will to fight for his freedom and land and resorts to the only act left - terrorism and guerilla warfare.

I've already begun writing a prologue to the story, hopefully, with enough luck I can start posting my chapters here.

Any comments or ideas to add are always welcome.

 This story, starts like most of my stories in that it starts off with a woman.  My girlfriend at the time started to get into motorcycles and the such and as you all know, whatever the girl gets into, you invariably get into as well.  I started off with a small V-Twin 250 sports bike.  Though, unfortunately had it impounded because I was too lazy to finish my tests and get my license.  The guy who had sold it to me left the country never to be heard from again and forgot to send me the title.  So, I lost my first bike.  It was 1200 so it wasn't too harsh, but it sucked none the less.

For about a year I was bikeless.  My girlfriend had turned into my ex-girlfriend/parasitic leach.  She became lazy, started getting late on her rent.  Stopped paying for rent, stopped cleaning, stopped putting out, and drained me emotionally dry.  She herself had bought a motorcycle, but with no ability to save, never had the money to pay for the repairs it needed to be road worthy again.  Day after day I passed by her motorcycle.  It was a beautifully blue Suzuki SV650 with a European inspired trellis frame and a nice steep riding position.  It had some damage from a previous accident on the left side - scars of a troubled past.  Her seats needed to be reupholstered as well.  The vinyl showed long time exposure to the harsh Californian sun.  Even with her blemishes, she was still a sight to behold.

Week after week she started collecting more and more dust at the bottom of a downtown parking garage.  Sometimes, I would spend a little time to wash her off.  It broke my heart to see a bike slowly die like that.  I then offered my ex-girlfriend/parasitic leach to buy it off of her for the amount that she owed me in back rent.  About $2300.  She had the nerve to tell me that if I was going to take away her mode of transportation, I had to provide her with a new one.  Though this didn't make sense,  since she didn't even ride it, I agreed.  I spent 3 months to save up 2 grand and bought a second hand 125cc scooter second hand from the middle of nowhere.  A friend of mine was moving at the time so I threw it on the back of his moving truck.  I gave her the keys and title to a shiny almost brand new scooter with less than a thousand miles on it and she gave me the keys and title to the poor blue abandoned motorcycle.

The battery had long since been dead so I went about recharging it.  After a full charged, I tried to start her up.  No luck.  The gasoline and oil had rotted from months and months of stagnating in that parking garage.  I took some time, changed her oil and put some new gasoline in her as a last ditch attempt.  I mixed the new gas with the old and sure enough, she puttered back to life.  The carbs were clogged as hell as well as her valves.  She backfired and choked, but she was running.  I took her for a spin.  Though not the wisest choice since I never took the chance to get a real mechanic to look her over.

On the streets, she rumbled and puttered but pulled ahead strong.  I gained some confidence and started to push her a little and we went hurling down the LA streets.  Once I hit Korea town, the home of the worst Asian drivers in California, I had to make an emergency brake.  My new bike didn't like that so much.  Maybe it was the months of abuse and abandonment, or maybe it was from the harsh life she lived with her previous owner(s).  I don't know.  Her front locked up and she threw me off head first into the street.  I landed flat and my helmet smashed against the road.  She jacknifed and landed on my back full force with all 475 pounds of her steel and aluminum body, just barely missing my spine.  Luckily, I was alive and had no injuries besides having the wind severley knocked out of me.  She road back fine, but her forks started to leak oil.  Not a good sign and not something I could fix on my own.  So I had to send her to my mechanic.

The mechanic could tell right away that there had been some serious abuse and mickey mousing with this motorcycle.  A lot of DIY patch jobs started to show through.  The cables were all maladjusted, the clip-on handle bars were not aligned properly, and even the custom tail lights weren't installed symmetrically.  I could tell why she might have been pissed that I tried to ride her the way I did.  I sunk myself into debt to fix her.  We started with the forks which had to be rebuilt almost entirely, then we moved on the the carburators, the engine, valve timing, fuel delivery, etc.  $3200 in repairs later, she purred.  And man, did she sound good.  I had even spent more money rebuilding her stock speedometer and tach which were missing when I got her.

From then, she had tried to kill me twice and both times I stayed on her seat and regained control.  My bike is like no other bike.  She's a wild stallion and it shows.  No one can ride her except for me.  It was like she had chosen me.  I made the mistake a few months later of letting a friend ride her.  He didn't last a minute before he fell off of her.  He paid for the repairs on her and she came back from the shop even better.  I spent some extra money on my own to reupholster her dying seats and outfitted her with frame sliders in the advent she went down again.

A good 8 months had passed to what is now the present.  In my downtown garage with 24 hour serveilance, she was stolen.  Roughly thrown onto the back of a silver Chevy Pickup truck to be taken off to god know where.  A week of worry passed by as I sat waiting to hear from the police.  Today, I got my first call with good news.  My bike had been recovered and was now in the police impound lot.  Though all is not perfect.  One of her turn signals had been broken off and the thieves had broken through the ignition to hot wire her.  They found her abandoned in a city about 13 miles away from where the theft took place.  Did they find her parked or crashed on the side of the street.  I don't know.  Though, something tells me in the back of my mind, she didn't like being violated.  I have yet to see my now rape-victim of a bike.  I can only hope the damage is not beyond a simple replacement of parts.  I can only hope that she will be able to ride proudly on the streets again.

Sorry if this post is a bit humorless, I just felt like writing about my love life.

I've dated a few cosplayers back when I was still young and inexperienced.  In fact, my first girlfriend was a cosplayer.  Here are a few things I've learned from dating cosplayers.  If you're a cosplayer and these don't pertain to you or your friends then it's because I haven't dated anyone as unique as you ;)

1) They don't want to have sex with you in their cosplay because they don't want to ruin it.

2) When you do have sex with them in their cosplay, they never want to wear it again.

3) Cosplayers are fucking kinky and sometimes down right weird in bed.

4) They like to boast about the quality and effort that goes into their work, but they always seem to rush making their costumes in the last few weeks before a con.

5) They're always low on cash and need you to pick some stuff up for them.

6) They have more guy friends than girl friends and each of the guy friends are trying to be their next boyfriend.

7) Me being asian is somehow a huge turn on for non-asian cosplayers, or so they keep tell me.

8) Drama surrounds them and it is never their fault.

9) They always have at least a few dark dark skeletons in their closet. *shudder*

10) They talk a lot of smack when it comes to gaming, but I always kick their ass and they get frustrated with me.(I've only been humiliated by 1 girl in Soul Calibur, but I never dated her)

If you have any corrections you want to make to my list or add anymore, feel free to do so. This has been what I've experienced thus far.

 Let's get this straight.  Ninjas are masters of stealth and have been used historically as spies, assassins, and for sabotage.  They blended in by dressing as farmers or monks or in dark clothing in the cover of night.  They always avoided confrontation whenever possible and their fighting style was developed to ensure quick escapes from situations.

Naruto wears fucking ORANGE!  It's the loudest goddamn color you can choose.  How are you going to hide your presence in trees wearing bright fucking orange?  Hell, I've yet to see him once utilize stealth for a quick kill.  Hell, there's hardly ever a moment, even with the ANBU, where ninjas make a quick and clean kill.  It's always some drawn out battle that takes FOREVER!  And hell, they're never stealthy.  They always scream out before they attack with a "Chan-naro!" or "Rasengan!"  I mean, what kind of ninja telegraphs their attack to their opponent?

Weapons?  The shuriken and kunai, two very fundamental ninja weapons are rendered completely useless.  Fuck, I don't even know why they still use them.  Whenever they throw them, the enemy just dodges or deflects.  Shuriken and kunai are utterly useless unless they have a paper bomb attached to them.  Even then, most enemies just escape.  So the only thing the ninjas have to fall back on are their kekai genkai's and their elemental jutsus.  But what the fuck, is this Harry fucking Potter?  Since when do ninjas summon water, lighting, and animals to attack?  These aren't ninja's!  They're highly acrobatic wizards!

What pisses me off the most is in the series they always emphasize team work and that without a good team, even the best ninja is rendered useless.  Well, guess what happens?  Naruto pulls a Goku and becomes a one man army.

Eh, whatever.  I'm still watching the series.  Still confused as why they keep referring themselves as Ninja.

I do photography for fun.  Looking to do more cosplay related photos so if anyone wants to get some nice photos taken free of charge, let me know.  Girls get dinner on me ;)

I'm free on Sundays.  Let me know if you're in the Los Angeles area.