Long have the people been left in despair. They have wandered through their meaningless lives in a void of uncertainty and doubt. Will life ever be as glorious as then? Will the time that has been promised ever arrive? I know, because I too have been left there. Is has been limbo, only a mere shadow of what life should be like, never knowing when this veil of darkness is to be lifted from our eyes. But hope prevails, and as long as is does there will be a spark. From this spark my friends, a fire will start. Slowly at first, but steady growing until it consumes our world once more. That fire is now lit, and soon the light can be seen even in the darkest corners on the interwebs.
Head in my bag -is back.
As you all know this all started at a Christmas party. As a real and true atheist I don't spend any time caring for sweet baby Jesus. Though, y'all have to admit Christmas is special. Maybe, just maybe, things DO start to sparkle and jingle bells can be heard in the distance all American coke commercial-esqe. Maybe magic do exist around Christmas. Well, magic or no magic Head in my bag came back to life again at it's 2year anniversary.
If I had a say in the end of Milo it would have involved a virus and then followed by a f-ing epic gameplay of turning innocent people in to zombies with kinect. However sadly, I did not have a say in it. My involvement in his fate and my time at LH came to an end shortly after the cake war. My move from LH back to the Swedish game developer scene did... mess things up with the blog. At first it was all about time. I simply did not have it. I let it slip out of my hands, lecturing animation at Futuregames and then joining the Fatshark team. I got too excited about our games, Krater and War of the Roses. Eventually, when enough time had passed, I even.... god I feel so embarrassed admitting this, but I guess its a first step... I need to be true to myself... and to YOU, dear fans/celebs/readers... ok here is goes... I got a new bag. Yes. I did that. I am a horrible human being. I replaced THE bag with another one. It was yellow. And then I went to Japan, and I got ANOTHER one. A blue. It was like I had lost it, the will to live and my self respect. I kept getting new bags, and using them as well. Leaving my one special bag to sit on a shelf at home, all alone, staring in to the hallway of a suburban rental flat south of Knifsöder. But you see, I have come to an insight now. I know. I know what I had to do, and I did it. I begged and pleaded for forgiveness, I washed it, and I gave it flowers. I brought it out for a night on the town and introduced it to my new work colleagues and friends. And then it was like nothing had happened, like time had stood still. We found each other again, and we above all found our true purpose.
Heads. Bags. Bosh.
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