The Epic Quest called Life

So here we are.
Guys, Boyfriends, Husbands, Fathers, Weekend Warriors.

Probably a very last generation of those who used to run in childhood with sticks fighting trolls in a courtyard, who organised water balloon battles against those stinkers from the neighbouring block , who wrestled in sand, got their knees bruised while climbing trees.
We were the last ones to avoid, the omnipresent stigma of virtual reality. And our heads were filled with dreams.
Big, epic dreams.

Joshua Earle

You can become anyone you want to, we were told. Rock star, general, football player. Fucking astronaut.

Just go ahead and believe that. Its is in our guys, warriors DNA, after all.  To reach for the heights, to climb the highest peak (and then drop your pants down and pee from the top).

When I was a kid I wanted to be a pirate. Or world famous writer.

I have always pictured myself rolling through life accompanied by an elevating soundtrack like in oscar winning movie, carrying a bloodstained armor, waving to crowds of fans with my left hand and giving autographs with the other, flying into space, preventing alien invasion, shitting with epicness.
And here I am, staring eleven hours per day at the numbers on the screen, rolled into the wheels of humongous corporate machine, changing diapers by night, dreading the invasion of bills by the end of the month.

Ben White

I am Husband, Father, Breadwinner. Manager. Weekend Warrior.

And sometimes I find it hard to distinguish myself from a zombie. Does it have to be, that dream of greatness come back now only while playing another Witcher game on my PC?

Fuck that.

It is time to realise, that we are not ever to drop our childhood dreams, but transcend with them. That we shouldn’t treat life as the ultimate excuse for not living up to our greatest ambitions. A key to success is to pursue passions in spare time, while cherishing every moment of our daily struggles.


Aziz Acharki

And remember you Fathers – having a family to care for is not only source of strength to face life adventures, but it’s an adventure itself.

I am a father and I am a warrior.

And I am living my quest in my daily experiences.

In my journeys, adventures, battles in the arena of everyday life. In stories told through the eyes of someone who despite coming of age, still lives his childhood dreams. Dreams of fighting trolls, climbing skyscrapers, reaching the heights of heights.
If you ever felt, that life is more, than a repetitive cycle of daily responsibilities, I am sure you will find yourself in some of my stories, if not all of them.
So, hey!… Join me on the epic quest called life.


/Post from my archived blog “Sword in the woods”/

Chaos spreads across the html code…

And so it arises.

Out from the ashes, out from the deep – our small haven among the immense ocean of information.

Scheller Bros website.

A place where sounds and words mix into a symphony of light and darkness.

Check it now:

…or stay ignorant.

Sad Man has forgotten who he is

After 12,5 hours at work, I thought that I cannot think…

But once  aproached movie like that,  something has awoken inside me, something   that was so long asleep:

Smutny Człowiek zapomniał kim jest

I watched, and I watched. And I have  decided that something needs to be done.

Such a Story demands a translation.

Mine, is bit clumsy .. . but still it might better than the one done by uncle Google…

“Sad man has forgotten who he is

I have already thought, that I knew,  I am a dust, I am flesh

chemical soup, collection of atoms, a mistake, a setback, natural selection

An impulse in brain, a circuit, an accident, I appear and vanish,

once I was not, once I will not be, such is the chaos tactic
with handful grip I draw from life, by being senses I suck what’s around
I steal, I kill, I cheat, play, drink, there is no hell

Don’t look at me like that, these are just selfish genes,  survival of the  fittest
pitiable fate of my victims is a component of their random existence

Am I a machine, without an operator, programmed by glass experts?

my fruit – ugly and bitter, I rush by an impulse seeking the purpose

I yearn, I desire, I want in instant and continuously, it itches me harder and longer dread  to think what comes later

in the matter of trap, seeking the fulfillment, like a fish with no water I try
still more, more and more I need, so little, little rejoice

I smile pretending that it is so fine, despite the fires around me
I believed that I’m smart and wise, a fool mourns to his mirror

The outcome – the reason like an atoms I split, under my pseudo scientific pretext
I was searching, i have been counting, got blind from the glasses,
cannot go more, without knowing who am I

Once there was a philosopher, who said, that there is no us, there is no you, there is no me, there is no no
It seems however a scam, because who would hear my singing

I can’t remember the secret, the eternal mystery, who pulls the strings?
I watch not see, I listen not hear, I am an actor, I do not remember the script

The sound drops inside, forces the neurons to move, to brain it rushes from ear
it’s curious, where does it go, whom am I the one who listens

How sad it is, that I that I strive forward not knowing where
how strange it is, that i wanted good but there is no no
how sad it is that still I do not know who am I no
Oh how strange it is that whom am I, I know not no”

Poem by Michał Napierzyński

End of Log