So, lately, in order to temporarily fill the gaping space in my heart left by the loss of my beloved computer, I've been doing a lot of random things I don't normally do. For example, looking for unpopular but otherwise good manga and reading a lot of Blue Wizard is About to Die. P:

So, as far as the manga has gone, the only really notable one I've read is called Liar Game ([link]). It's a lot like Death Note in that it's not really shoujo or shounen, but more about intellect. I definately recommend it. It's got a very interesting concept, but it's not as lengthy as Death Note (and the main character isn't an OCD freak who takes up an entire chapter just to describe their plans in minute detail and gets excited over the stupidest things. "I take a chip, and EAT IT!! [maniacal laughter]")

...Also, when I was reading it, I couldn't help but think "Akiyama-san's kinda hot..." TT_TT Shameless, I know. Perhaps I've been hanging around the fangirls for too long.

As for Blue Wizard is About to Die, it's a book of poetry...about video games. Yes. It sounds totally ridiculous, but trust me, it's a good read. You can order it online for about fifteen dollars; that's how I got my copy. It was worth it. I have to warn you, though, most of the poems are about arcade or somewhat older games (there are only a couple of new ones), so if you've been hiding in a closet all your life, and have never played in an arcade, you won't understand a thing.
I really like the poems Mario, Half-Life, "Lag", Boss Battles, Meditations on Murder, A Good Walk Spoiled (A toast to games with the personality of cardboard), Interesting Concept, Orgeon Trail, etc. But I think my favorite one would be "Things I've Experienced".

For those who have absolutely nothing better to do, here's how it goes (btw, there's a Legend of Zelda, a Metal Gear Solid, and a Final Fantasy reference in here. See if you can find 'em ;D):

"THINGS I'VE EXPERIENCED:

you ever sneak up behind someone with a garrote and land
that fateful killing strike, steal his clothes,
and then head into the heart of darkness, the enemy installation?

you ever crack open a single bullet that you
hid in your gut, swallowed, when the guerillas
caught you, CIA boy?; you ever harvest that
gunpowder into an explosive bolt of freedom
blowing out the cell door, loping into the
sweet jungle danger night?

you ever liberate a town from the grips
of a biker gang? Eh?

you ever fight the Revolver Ocelot, his patter
getting to you, searching through the columned
shadows of the storage room, looking
for his long white ponytail and TB cough?
'I love the smell of cordite; you know,
that sulfur smell?'

even better, you ever stand at the end of the universe
and dip your toe in its oblique waters,
feeling the time sickness suck at your bones
like leeches that must feed on the marrow of living memory?
you ever fight a samurai on a Russian steppe in
the year 2095 AD?
how about running a fiefdom? Where is Oda now, you
weak kneed f*ck?

so sure, you laugh,
think it's all a game, a silly
past time made of candy
colored marbles thrown down
on the four square chalk;
but, I tell you,
I have done these things,
and it is no game;
when done well,
it is a dream. When perfect,
you can be god.

you ever pilot a five hundred ton
robot the height of an office building
across the blasted surface of
a silent white moon?
well, I say, that's where it's at...
poetry in those rockets
squealed through zero g,
the screams of your team mates ejecting...

I have flown Spitfires into visions of hell
the likes of which no one from my generation
will ever be able to imagine,
dog fighting 7 me109s
alone in the skies above
secret missions in the Ardennes...

I have watched entire cities
encapsulated in the protective hull of
capital ships, magisterial sea-cow inheritances
from the British Empire,
shatter in space, their bows broken,
and have heard the screams as everyone was slaughtered.

I have also explored caves. So many caves. More caves
than there are in the known universe...been down every one
and back again
two times of more...

I have fought the black knight,
borne on the back of an ostrich.
I have done that. I have done that.

I have flown through city night skies
a blue serpent, unseeable, secretive,
twisting and serene, like smoke through the skyline.

I have woken to visions of hell so supreme
that only grenades can solve it,
meaty axe monsters, giant, red-balloon demons,
fictions too obscene for any madman, dreams
that inhabit the minds only of the living dead

and yet, I have seen a girl cry,
small and weary, stupidly clutching a doll,
her mother cut down by sniper fire,
and I have wanted to cry as well...

I have seen an ancient old man
long forgotten in the tombs
of a fiction world
after a fictional apocolypse.
Deranged and broken,
they left him there for so long...
but I have heard him!
he sings to the steel,
the walls, and vacuum pressured doors;

he sings ancient songs of vaudeville
that no one else I know
knows or remembers; I write fan letters,
I cry, I get drunk thinking of such things,
for, for once, someone has
managed to envision my future as I see it;
they have encapsulated a future me and
sent me back to me so I can hear,
behind the music;
I can hear the overt message;

I have seen and done these things,
and they were real.
Real enough to dream of.
Good enough to remember for years;
things worth crying over,
experiences that sadden the heart
and exalt the spirit:
standing at sunrise
over a blasted town
or flying home after a long mission when
"flack's opening up;"
jeesus;= my whole wing is dead;
hit the silk, now, get out! and the canopy's jammed...
that's what I have done, forgetting many
other exceptional dreams.
These are things that I think of
when drunk and in need of another world
so, in the words of that desperate,
last-ditch pilot:
'this one's for you, Gerri'
let him have it."

~Seth "Fingers" Flynn Barkan

**snaps fingers**