April 1, 1312

To do list:  Iron chain mail, take crossbow in for servicing, check brakes and shoes on steed, pick up dry-cleaning.  Meet nice girl.

O, yeah, verily, forsooth, and in truth, I dissemble shamefully in the presence of all the gods, though in this greensward, the fatal valley others so fearfully avoid, I appear to be the pillar of strength foreseen by those very sirens whose portent was shrouded in the mysteries of the mysts of Avalon. 

I kid you not.

Doomsayers, dragon slayers, and all the chimera cannot seize from my armored breast the lion-heart contained within, nor, whilst I draw even the faintest earthly breath, shall the gods and harlequins enable the trolls and ogres and griffins and gargoyles to preternaturally  savage my soul before I

pledge my undying troth to the fairest lady in the vast reaches of the kingdom.  I prostrate myself in the shadow of this very sunflower of  the gods; I, an incompetent knight, a simple jest of a being, who would sit below the salt at a table filled with the denizens of the dark, lower than the excrement of the asp, as it lies in the mud-caked rut of a chariots wheel.  That I dare even to harbor the faintest hope of attracting the favors of such an exalted goddess as her golden majesty may yet separate my heart from my head, and my head from my aching body, though the jasmines of her bodice inflame even greater ardor, a tempest beyond the ken of mere mortals.  Lost in the flowery waves of perfumed and shimmering tresses are my innermost desires, the offspring of a rushing font of corporeal delight laced with the nectars of an astral longing, tonics to the spirits of Eros.

chimera prowling for unwary and incompetent knights

Sir Rodney, standing tall, though rather incompetently

Another shot of the rather lanky Sir Rodney, disguised as an incompetent sunflower.

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Not the serpents of the gloaming, nor even the bloodthirsty and barbarous tigers of Bengal shall thwart my ardent quest; I defy the gods and the cutthroats of Tripoli, and I wouldst face all the triremes of the southern seas to gain the smallest glance from m’lady; I quaver in falling awe, like an aspen in the howling winds of the twenty deserts, yet I am undeterred from my heavenly goal, and I swear my Zeus I shall never be swayed from this trackless sojourn.

Summer weight chain mail tee-shirt that was washed with too much bleach

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April 2, 1312

To do list:  Water frankincense and myrhh plants, and fill pockets with posies.  Clean-up all the drumstick bones in living room.  Refill mead keg.  Floss.  Meet nice girl.

Yesterday didn’t go so hot.  Asked barmaid out for a date, but she just spit in my pewter stein, and told me to come back when I was a real man.  Sheesh.