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Mon, Oct. 11th, 2004, 06:38 pm feeling young and dying
The dying part is frankly weird, because I've never believed in the end of the world. Even as the Red Star barrels down on the earth--or so I'm told--I'm making plans for a good couch, a word processor, and a place to ride the storm out. Yet at the same time, this Red Star, these 'methusalahs' playing their bloody game with our lives, as the antediluvians are supposed to be up and about and scary somehow, as demons, as, as, as, as...surely we can't dodge all the bullets! The prophecy of Hardestadt fizzled, and leaves me wondering whether the Voice of the visions is simply yet one more hand at the poker table, lying and manipulating to some stupid sectarian end that no longer matters. Wonder nothing, actually. Whoever she is, she's a filthy lying bitch and I will shoot her nose off first chance I get, for making so many good people risk their skins for a stupid assassination. Are you listening, Camille? I'll bet you know who the Voice is. But the feeling young--it is not perjorative. The old and jaded kill--the young think, can apply technology, understand win-win scenarios, work the media mind that is the innovation of the 20th century, and the hive-web mind that is this very decade. I can survive the hunters turning on us--I've done it, without scapegoats. I can conceive of surviving Nuclear Winter--can the ship of demons be much worse? I can speak to the modern mind--heh heh, write to it--and be understood as an old fossil couldn't possibly. I started writing months before the Masquerade was broken, and I frankly should get back to writing that, the chance to finish it before Conclave where vampires are likely to do stupidity on an epic level, the better to bring about the end. Hydrogen and stupidity--the two universals. Among vampires add to that murder and 'heroic' suicide. That's what happens when dying in bed isn't an option. Young and dying. I came to terms with my own death once, and find I am going back there again. I listen to music, the poetry of my era, so much now. Queen in particular inspires me--Innuendo-- if there's a God or any justice under the sky/if there's a reason we live or die...reveal yourself,take off your mask, destroy our fears. The thought of such a vibrant man dying, inescapably, determined to take every last moment of a lingering death as a vibrant man...inspires me. Back to my book. Damn you RB. I want to send you the next chapter. I want to ask you about your friend, who you would know better than anyone. But I've lost your address, and it will be months before you notice I've neglected you. Next time you're at an airport bar at night, think of me. Sometimes I'm lucky that way.
Wed, Sep. 29th, 2004, 10:33 pm [WoD2] a new voice comes
Unbidden, despite my best efforts, a new voice emerges. Alas, I was trying to sleep.
Things like that don't happen here.
Oh sure, Area 51 type weirdness happens all the time. Gunshots go off, whether they're ghost cowboys or just downlanders who are ignoring the law, the only way to even hope to tell is to see if there is rot on the casings. Other things too, like man-high devilwinds or flash floods so quick that you can stand on the porch and watch them go rippling by over the clay like the shadows of the jetliners on their way to Vegas. People get twitchy when it's too hot, or when it's not hot enough, but mostly the silence is what gets you. I can hear the cat paw his way across the gravel; the coyotes I hear I can guess number, distance, direction, and intent just by listening. The new homeowners take it personally when the coyotes take their little fluffies, but I know they're just taking what little compensation they can for their lands now paved over, like Indians taking beads and meaningless treaties, knowing better but unable to do much else against a bulldozer. But for now, until Suburbia finally creeps to my home, things should remain the same flavor of weird they always have.
Should. Because things like that just shouldn't happen here. Wed, Sep. 29th, 2004, 10:47 am Angel or devil, hope or despair
My death waits there among the leaves In magicians' mysterious sleeves Rabbits and dogs and the passing time My death waits there among the flowers Where the blackest shadow, blackest shadow cowers Let's pick lilacs for the passing time My death waits there in a double bed Sails of oblivion at my head So pull up the sheets against the passing time
But what ever lies behind the door There is nothing much to do Angel or devil, I don't care For in front of that door, there is you
Conversely Time - He's waiting in the wings He speaks of senseless things His script is you and me boys
Time - He flexes like a whore Falls wanking to the floor His trick is you and me, boy
Time - In Quaaludes and red wine Demanding Billy Dolls And other friends of mine Take your time
The sniper in the brain, regurgitating drain Incestuous and vain, and many other last names I look at my watch it say 9:25 and I think "Oh God I'm still alive"
We should be on by now We should be on by now
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la (repeat)
You - are not a victim You - just scream with boredom You - are not evicting time
Chimes - Goddamn, you're looking old You'll freeze and catch a cold 'Cause you've left your coat behind Take your time
Breaking up is hard, but keeping dark is hateful I had so many dreams, I had so many breakthroughs But you, my love, were kind, but love has left you dreamless The door to dreams was closed. Your park was real dreamless Perhaps you're smiling now, smiling through this darkness But all I had to give was the guilt for dreaming
Sun, Sep. 26th, 2004, 09:18 pm Darkness, darkness. Be my pillow
"It takes a special courage to speak out against a cause for which you were once prepared to die," Jeffrey Smith, a West Point-trained C.I.A. man of the Kerry-Bush generation, wrote in The Washington Post last weekend.
Fri, Aug. 27th, 2004, 10:03 pm Jusitcar Alexandreus
The world flips over yet again. Guess I'll have to make sure I spell it right from now on.
Wed, Aug. 18th, 2004, 01:16 am Revisited
With samples of the musicCalling All Angels TrainI need a sign to let me know you’re here All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere I need to know that things are gonna look up ‘Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup When there is no place safe and no safe place to put my head When you feel the world shake from the words that are said I need a sign to let me know you’re here ‘Cause my TV set just keeps it all from being clear I want a reason for the way things have to be I need a hand to help build up some kind of hope inside of me And I’m calling all angels I’m calling all you angels When children have to play inside so they don’t disappear And private eyes solve marriage lies cause we don’t talk for years And futbol teams are kissing Queens and losing sight of having dreams In a world that what we want is only what we want until it’s ours I’m calling all angels I’m calling all you angels
Thu, Aug. 12th, 2004, 02:39 pm What a fucking jackass!
Every vampire. Any provocation.
I do not exaggerate.
You see, death robs a soul of certain fundamental capacities. Vampires are incapable of experiencing any of the higher emotions. All that remains to us are those feelings driven by the beast within - anger, fear, lust. hunger.
Some of the younger, more idealistic ones among us will tell you that this is untrue. They will speak most passionately, in an effort to convince themselves as much as you. We retain the immense human capacity for self-delusion, you see.
The younger ones of us still have a clear memory of what it was to know these things. To look at another being without assessing what threat they represent, what you stand to gain from them. They remember the virtue of simple companionship, and they tell themselves that the memory is the fact.
Memory fades, however, but the thirst for blood is endless.Damn right the memory fades, you worthless fossil! You've forgotten that there is such a thing as real emotion, so you have the arrogance to say that it does not exist! Been holding status a little too long, Otis, started to believe your own proclamations? I've been in love more times as a vampire than I did as a mortal. Made sacrifices for those--does that sounds like "mere companionship" to you?? I've nearly killed myself in grief--is that a Beast's emotion? YOU FUCKING JACKASS! Now you go hand off anatomical details to people whose big plan is genocide. Thanks a lot, fuckwit, I hope they stay in Australia. Because I was waiting, waiting until we had something resembling rights, to teach people to use vitae to cure diseases, waiting for rights so that I don't end up in a meat locker with a keg-tap for my generosity. grrrrrr
Wed, Jul. 21st, 2004, 02:22 am don't tell him I'm onto him
Fri, Jun. 18th, 2004, 01:17 am And yeah I really do think
No one lives forever.'Living' easier than I have in a long time, despite the din in my head. Still, tossing ideas off a cousin, I was reminded of something (must remember to try to contact the old shaman). When my Time Comes, I have one final request. Take my remains--there won't be much--burn them to ash and place them in a huka. Nice big traditional Hindi bong, yes indeed. Then take or ship that pipe to the windward side of Santo Paolo. If you don't know what or where that is, ask anyone who knew me. If that still fails you, find the Pirates of the Caribbean and if they know anything at all they'll show you where that is. Don't hand it to them--they'll lie and promise you delivery, then leave me on some uncharted piece of sand...could be worse, but not what I want. I don't figure that's asking too much.
Thu, Jun. 10th, 2004, 01:18 am Tao
Great men have great failings. You can't have one without the other. If JFK hadn't been sleeping with actresses there may never have been a Camelot. Even discounting that the same drives that made him aggressive in bed may have also have made him aggressive in the boardroom. Follow it a minute: Seeking approval, Jackie held salons. In these salons she mingled with the best, gently prodded them for funds to refurbish the crumbling White House, to decorate, to give to charity or research or whatnot. She created a glorious house where her peacock husband (fighting as best he could the pain of a crippling back) could help her inspire the otherwise idle to great things. To Camelot. Because some criminal immigrants wanted to make money on vice, they built the glittering city in the desert. Because of this city, the native Americans knew that gambling could make money in remote places. Because of some mafia men, a child in Cabazon has a future. To say nothing of Frank Sinatra. May history judge me kindly, balancing my lights against my darkness.
Mon, May. 31st, 2004, 10:25 pm The irrelevance of the Logan Brothers
Sometimes people miss the message for the tone. A Prince in Sac'to tells a couple of scoundrels, real lowlifes, that if they come in just the two of them and submit to being tied up and incapacitated that...clearly, any promise made after that point is meaningless. Once you're incapacitated you're not in a position to argue if things go sour. Which they did. The Prince had them killed. None of which bothers me. It's like a kidnapping. Tense, dicey, bloody, but in the end just a business transaction. Hell, it wasn't even my business, and I wish I'd never heard about it. But I have, and that's the kicker. The Prince and a handful of co-signers announced they'd promised these two that if they surrendered, they would 'live on'. Unsurprisingly, he killed them. Not a problem, and certainly not MY problem. Until this little group announced, to the whole damned region, that they had KEPT their promise to these lowlifes because they got to 'live on' in Tartarus, where the Prince's sire could torment them. I understand grief, a veritable expert, so the desire to picture them tortured by his late sire is a good one, a healthy one, more than a little understandable. He has my sympathy, and maybe that bit of poetic license was grief clouding his judgement. But the cosigners?? So what bugs me is that I was lied to, for no discernable gain, and expected to put any credence in such an obvious lie that was not coming from my own Prince. I can applaud "Yes, we killed these bastards--such idiots for believing we'd let them live." I understand perfectly, "Oops, I slipped and fell and hacked their heads off." The essential truth--dead Logans and killing Prince--remains intact. But to claim they lived on, as you promised, that you did not lie to them...is an unnecessary layer. It insults me, and my silence would have amounted to consent. It's like desaparecido--you can't bury them because you don't know they're dead, but you can't negotiate for ransom because their captors won't make contact. Alright maybe not like it, but evokes the same feelings of not only being dragged into an ugly game but being cheated at its time-honored rules. If you're going to tell the whole world about your doings, if you're going to lie even...how to explain transparent lies to a stranger? More and more I feel like a 'queer duck.'
Tue, May. 18th, 2004, 12:00 pm Just another night in strangeland
So I arrive at our gathering, overdressed a little on purpose, and get to see a face I have not seen in far, far too long. It isn't the face itself, certainly, and the person I do run into from time to time. It was the smile--the loopy, swishy, devil-may-care smile that I had not seen in too long. No twitch no sweat no doomy proclamations, and that smile like water before a race left us both calmer to deal with what would come later. There was, it seems, a "Niktuku" in attendance. I'd had the impression that a Niktuku was nigh invulnerable, legendary, godlike, so maybe this was just a footsoldier, but I was underwhelmed. See the aforementioned water. Mere ordinary security precautions foiled it, and while it did have some disorienting tricks up its sleeve and not to be too far underestimated, it still failed to strike enough fear or cost us any lives. Keep in mind this is a domain where vampires are by no means the only supernatural beings around, where powers of the blood are limited and ordinary compared to what some other things can do. So much like my old home that it has a comforting familiarity--I guess this is why my oracles led me here. Maybe this is Not Allowed, but there isn't much I can do to stop it!! Frankly the presence of a ghostie was comforting, and apparently helpful. I really must remember to show the other side to that medium, who has only so far heard it. It's quite different to the mind's eye. It is a good domain, and I am glad to be its, er, Prime Minister.
Wed, May. 12th, 2004, 02:34 pm Just when I thought I was over you
...someone goes and plays a sad song: You used to captivate me by your resonating mind, Now I'm bound by the life you left behind. Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams Your voice has chased away all the sanity in me. These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real, there's just too much that time cannot erase. When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears, When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears. I held your hand through all of these years. But you still have... All of me.
Sat, May. 8th, 2004, 03:52 am ironic
Put in the name of a friend who's a cop...how did it know? Sat, May. 8th, 2004, 03:48 am love for the other saints
Mon, May. 3rd, 2004, 01:20 am Gathering at Phoenix
I had an amazing time! The first night started out badly--cops and military swarming the place, so I 'took a nap' at my hotel room a few miles away and only whispered into one ear. (A Toreador elder--the presumption of me!) (And never, ever stay at the same hotel as the gathering. If you're having trouble getting there, you shouldn't be there.) The next night--despite my security requirements or maybe because of them, I got to see the glitter of society. Sitting above for much of the evening, calling down to one below (who sadly did not hear me--I wonder if I still have Bela's contact info?), watching it all spin like a grand ball. Thanatos--simply beautiful from a balcony above, not sure he'd have been so lovely close up, but you never know. Everyone decked out, glad I wore silk and a structured hat. The talk was dark, of course, but I found lively companions who, constantly surrounded by angst and passion, managed to make light of something very frightening and thus taking the bite out of all boogeymen. Illusion? Maybe. Diversion? Yes, and sorely needed.
Fri, Mar. 12th, 2004, 03:38 am Strange and wonderful
how when things go well I have little inclination to write. Certainly most people don't even see that fact, as most people do not see what is here. At least, short of a hacker, and even then they would get a lot of emotion and not a lot of intel, and be heartily sick that they expended the effort to spy on a box of kleenex. Not settling down exactly--one never settles down in this demimonde--but riding a little easier in the saddle.
Fri, Jan. 30th, 2004, 12:51 am Symptom of a down
...and the jazz isn't quite cutting it, so to gospel/blues then. OOC mixed from http://www.leoslyrics.com/listlyrics.php?id=104402I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? Well it goes like this : The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah... Well your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrough ya She tied you to her kitchen chair She broke your throne and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah Baby I've been here before I've seen this room and I've walked this floor I used to live alone before I knew ya I've seen your flag on the marble arch But love is not a victory march It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah There was a time when you let me know What's really going on below But now you never show that to me do ya But remember when I moved in you And the holy dove was moving too And every breath we drew was Hallelujah Well, maybe there's a God above But all I've ever learned from love Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya It's not a cry that you hear at night It's not somebody who's seen the light It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah... You say I took the name in vain I don't even know the name But if I did, well really, what's it to ya? There's a blaze of light In every word It doesn't matter which you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah did my best, it wasn't much I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya And even though It all went wrong I'll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah...
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