Note: This web page was built over a year ago, and while it may seem a little juvenile now, it still stands as the clearest, most concise testament to my life and what I am. I am by nature a very ambitious person, and I'd be more than happy to post, here, my essay on the mechanics of quantum division and how, as it's been told to me repeatedly, the things described herein are ENTIRELY possible, in the most purely scientific of ways. But at the moment I'm up to my elbows in painting the walls of the office we just moved into, so my stand on this site is as follows: Believe it if you will. If you NEED further clarification, I am ALWAYS happy to provide it, in the form of e-mail, online messaging, phone calls, or good old-fashioned letters. Those of you with a metaphysical stand on this thing we call life, subjective reality forced on others as OBjective when all that is, really, is a joke -- read any philosophy, lately? -- might, in all honesty, understand the weight I've been carrying around.
Please don't bother to flame me: believe me, I've heard it all before. Someone I thought was a dear, beloved friend of mine once got me in a parking lot in the pouring rain with seven people standing around me in a circle -- and two of them had sharpened wooden stakes with them. So the old rule stands well: if you don't have anything nice to say....
My Deadjournal, which is linked at the bottom of this page, provides much better insight into this than I can in one page, so please visit it. Particularly the Memories link. I've updated the contact info on this page, as well as having added something I wrote recently that helps shed even MORE light on the way things are. I don't want attention. I don't f**king CARE about anything like that -- all I want is not to be shunned, and to have, every once in a while on those silent empty nights I spend sitting amd staring at the empty screen, someone -- just maybe -- to talk to.
Please read on. And please MAKE SURE YOU SCROLL DOWN, EVEN IF YOU DON'T READ THIS ENTIRE RAMBLING PAGE, TO THE EXCERPT I'VE POSTED HERE FROM MY JOURNAL. IT IS IMPORTANT TO THE POINT OF MY WRITING THIS AT ALL. Skip right to this excerpt: be warned, though, it might confuse you a bit without THIS page's history.
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Okay. Listen. It's time that something got cleared up here, and for all of you people in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer roleplaying rooms, it's time you knew. Warning: it's a bit wacked out, and if you want to think I'm crazy, please feel free. Or, ask my wife: she lives with this every day, the horror and the triumph, and she loves me in my entirety. Ask any one of my very few dear friends: they've bonded and stood by my through my own, personal, Apopcalypse.
Anyway. I've been told I'm an excellent "RP"er, that I "play a rockin' Angel", and though I'm grateful for these compliments, it's time I explained to all of you WHY that is. WHY I take my "RP" so goddamned seriously. It's an outlet for me, the only one I have, short of doing my sword kata alone in the dark, Tae Kwon Do and the actual AI office, my writing and my dreams.... charcoal sketches and my journal.
And a LOT of tears in the dark, just lately. (Update: These days, thanks to my wife, the big "Hyperion" house, F. and my dear friends and the way I've arranged my life -- freedom -- I can BE myself without needing to restrict it to online. But it is still one of the purest outlets I have.) But to start, maybe I'll offer the best explanation I've ever heard, given by one of my best friends, ever:
Friend: mmkay. He asked me to explain something to you.
Friend's friend: be my guest.
Friend: Well.... as he said before "I'm never OOC."
Friend's Friend: hmm.
Friend: this is essentially true. He sort of... Channels Angel. it's weird to think of, but I guess you could call it a multiple personality.
Friend's Friend: odd.
Friend: Mannerisms, memories, everything Angel has... is part of him.
Friend's Friend: so when he rps, he is Angel or Will?
Friend: Will...we call him "the vessel" because it's sort of as if will's body had Angel's soul and was seeking the retribution it needs.
Friend: well... he's angel.
Friend: but there really isn't a clear line between the two of them.
Friend: i guess the best way i could explain it is
Friend's Friend: slight grasping here.
Friend: William, this individual who happens to participate in online roleplay in order to express who he is, is like a medium. His most notable other personality is Angel, vampire with a soul.
Friend: Pretty much, william's life is entirely ic.
Friend: Angel = William and William = Angel
Friend: but when rp happens, no william in the rp.
Friend's Friend: that's a bit...frightening.
Friend: yeah. he was really freaked out about it at first but he's accepted it more now.
Friend: he's just really bad at explaining it
Friend's Friend: but...how is it possible since there is no real Angel?
Friend: well...Angel does exist...as a part of Will.
Friend: and who's to say that angel _isn't_ real in some form?
Yeah. Okay. So in summation: Fictional character. Who gives a fuck? If you study the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, quantum mechanics, there are an infinite number of alternate dimensions, alternate realities, out there. Who knows? Maybe Joss Whedon is looking into it in dreamtime and has a gift for being a scribe. I'm not gonna go into detail here.
Let's just say that David Boreanaz doesn't wake up crying from dreams of Hell, dreams where he's bound to a burning cross and the only way to voice his own torment is through the throats of people he's tortured and killed by his own hand. I do. I CARE about making amends, I have a PURPOSE.
And I REMEMBER these things that have happened, and I'm not talking Joss's "pop culture" either. Not the "show". The events therein, surely, but the way they REALLY happened. The truth, the words, the blood, the things that happened before, after, and in between.... the FEELINGS.... the blood.... the taste of grave dirt.... Darla.... and I carry that guilt with me every night when I wake up. Every. Single. Night.
Basically? 99+ % of the time? I AM Angel. The former Liam Kirwan, and I am NOT acting. I am NOT role-playing, I am NOT pretending. Sometimes I wish I was. Christ. Wouldn't you wish that, if it were you? Think about it.
I'm not "trying" or "wishing" or anything. I have always believed in reincarnation, quantum nonlinear time notwithstanding, and maybe it's finally time for redemption. I don't choose to try and argue with what Joss calls The Powers That Be, and what I call The Principle. Or, as my favorite author would say, The Is.
Now I'm not THAT crazy. I pay my bills, I wash my clothes, I remember my social security number. You get me? I walk my dog, buy my wife a birthday present.... but inside, there's two. A birth personality... and a soul. And unless I really have to pretend it's NOT the other way around, it's the soul that rules, the memories, the dreams, the fears. DB can leave the "role" behind. I can't.
And I don't want attention -- VERY few people know this truth about me, so -- and I wish they'd CANCEL the damned show so I could have obscurity, peace, do the best I can to do good and to make amends. For EVRYTHING I've done. They think I ENJOY this? The demon inside? That I'm getting friends, money, fame? Ha. It is, as they say, to laugh. I knew as a CHILD I was meant for something mystical.... *shrugs*
I didn't ask for it, don't know how it happened, and half the time I sure as fuck don't WANT it this way. But it *is* me....! And seeing as how... right now.... the quote "RP" is the only outlet I have for interacting with others *as* MYSELF... I tend to take it seriously. (See above update.)
I even have, for some reason, known only to the Gods, the same thick white scar on my belly -- right around the spot where that sword went through. Ask my wife. She'll validate that.
Lonely. Crazy maybe. And to all of you who already know this: thanks. Love to you all. The rest of you? Believe it or don't, I'm beyond caring. If you do... you understand. If you can't.. well don't interact with me then -- I'm used to it, by now. Hope this clears up some questions. "Disbelief destroys the magic." This weight I bear, these crimes are my own.
The DeadJournal. Me... love... betrayal... being Angelus. It's all there. And also....
I have a guestbook, as well as a poll, and other "nifty tidbits" -- go, technoVamp. Leave whatever comments you want. I'm gutsy -- my e-mail's on here, too. And I'm on Yahoo! Pager under that_which_remains_of_angelus and fear_me_an_unworthy_champion.
I'm on MSN, too. Happy hunting. Don't forget the torches.
PLEASE leave comments, votes, flames, insults, threats, whatever. It's time I got this out to the people around me who should know. So take a minute and play with my little Gear shit. Plus, I'll keep updating this -- I'll add Einstein's Parallel Dimensions Theories, other scientific shit on the nature of systems and holographic universes.... as well as discussing YOUR comments, questions, and concerns. Ask anything, I'll answer it. Promise.
So if I can find one of those e-mail update gadgets, feel free to add yours. And please. This was very, VERY hard to post. If it hadn't been for some good friends -- you know who you are, but Lili, Bar, Gina, Katie and of course B. come to mind -- I'd NEVER have had the guts.... undead or not. Think about that.
From my Deadjournal, in February: AN IMPORTANT EXPRESSION.
Angel.... Razors and the Dying Roses Plead (unbeating_heart) wrote,
@ 2003-02-03 18:34:00
Current mood: pissed off
Current music: Buffy playing "Fur Elise" on the piano behind me.
Limited Vision.
I thought I'd just write for a second. About something that lately has really just been pissing me off.
You know what I'm talking about.
Pop culture.
I mean..... okay. In the beginning, maybe, it was okay. Entertaining, even. It was an interesting diversion, kind of like seeing a TV-movie based on your life or someone you know. I could laugh at the acting, laugh at how nifty it was for them to have dialogue writers who made everything into quick-witted one-liners. I could enjoy the mildly lame CGI. But even then, even from the beginning, its amusement value has been corrputed by the fact that it has managed, in more ways than one, to MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL.
More so than it already was, if that can be said to be possible.
Let's face it, okay? I was me long before pop culture became a 'staple'. And in the summer it's kind of okay; people forget, more or less, and I can live my life in VERY pleasant obscurity. Sure, there were people who knew. Just enough so that I HAD people to talk to -- even though PC doesn't get very much right at all, some of it at least tries to be accurate. I trained four days a week, worked out, studied my prophecy and my history and everything else, and I just...... I just was. I had Aeternum Inc.(Now Angel Investigations) to try and help people and I did it anyway in the simpler ways; I've sacrificed a lot just because it felt, to my heart, like it was the right thing to do.
And then..... TV starts its new season. Now..... I don't even have a TV. We had other expenses and we don't have cable; so we don't get even a single local channel. But mostly that's fine with me; we have two VCRs and I have a lot of other things to do that matter to me more. But I can ALWAYS tell when it's been PC night.
And this is how it lays out: imagine being told that you can't be who you are because "So- and so doesn't swear...." Imagine being told that you can't be who you are because of this-that-or-the-other reason. THINK about it for a minute. I got called a, what was it? A "wanna-be"..... by a fifteen-year-old who, if he had to see even the things I dream about for one night only, would drop dead of a heart-attack with his hair turned white. Who in their bloody fucking right mind would WANT to be me?
Please. TAKE my nightmares and my one-to-six-depending-on-my-luck hours of sleep. Take the giant, mostly unbearable weight of guilt away from me.... you can have it. Take the visions -- the fucking REAL ones -- that make me shudder and sob and scratch at my eyes. Take the collapsing from exhaustion, which I did this summer, because I can't stop doing what I do, no matter how tired, how sick, how bone-fucking-weary I am. How sad. How heartbroken. Take my feelings of responsibility for those I love. Take the pictures in my mind of dead children slaughtered like goats in a pen. TAKE the actual bloodlust that ACTUALLY exists and take the feeling of constantly walking a razor-thin tightrope between myself and my demon. Take WANTING to let him out so badly it makes me tremble. THAT's the only thing I've ever been selfish in..... considering that. Take the bruises and the injuries and the dehydration. Take the fear and the terror and the always-fucking-trying to even the balance just a little. TAKE knowing that something is coming, something that I and mine know is coming...... something that not only do I feel like I have to stop.... but something in which I'm going to lose not only myself but everyone I've ever dared to love. Take having started to lose them, already. Take seeing those things.... fields of bodies sinking into black earth. Holding a woman you love in your arms as her head rolls bonelessly back against your elbow and you put her in the ground. I saw a rain of fire six hours before Columbia broke apart and fell, all over Texas. Ask me if that was fun. I tried to call California at 3 a.m.. TAKE everything from me.
BE Angel.
Go ahead.
Good luck with that.
And not only all this...... but I get condemned and attacked and you know why? BECAUSE OF POP CULTURE. Because someone decided that it'd be great to make a whole fuckload of money by jacking up the ratings. Because people have no idea. Because, because, because. Do you KNOW how many teenage girls have said to me "Oooh, Angelus is so much sexier than Angel..... I love the bad boys and oooh, those leather pants." -sighs- Let's dramatize it. Let's make it look like PC 'characters' are Spiderman-worthy heroes so that MORE people can think I'm GETTING something out of simply EXISTING. Let's make Angelus into a sexy bad-ass and even change the title sequence because it looks. So. Much. Cooler. Let's romanticize it to the point where everybody wants to be me........ why the fuck NOT?
Hmmm?
Ever seen the movie "Don Juan DeMarco"? It actually makes some good points.
About limited vision.
I have to go, actually. I have to put a shirt on and in about fifteen minutes, I have to take my swollen knee(with the screws in it) and my injured shoulder to Tae Kwon Do...... forty-five miles from here. Like I have just about every other day for the last however long...... even with a broken foot, a broken rib, a fever.... what have you. I saw things in my dreams that I can't ignore. I feel that some things -- no matter how much some people reject them -- are right, and I can't change it. I have to call someone in New York and tell them these things..... because I can't afford to not be ready. Buffy is playing Fur Elise on the piano behind me and I am just about ready to cry.
I love you both.
I do.
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