Book 2 June 9 1983 to December 12 1983

8307.03 suplementary

I awoke underwater. I could breath and move about uninhibited but I was at the bottom of a placid lake.
'Death Dealer, are you here yet?' there was no response, and I knew there was a reason. Perhaps he's buzy, or not getting my message. Or perhaps he knows I will probibly use him as a crutch to help me through. He, and I, know I need to help myself, and use no crutch.
'Son' I turned to see my mother, for that I was happy. Then from out of the shadows creept the Dominator and he put his arms about her, she did nothing, she in fact went to him.
"We're thinking perhaps of getting back together." spoke the Dominator in a tone witch seemed malicous.
'Mother?' I questioned, the confusion welling inside of me and showing on my face.
'I love your father, son.' was her only reply. The armoured form of the Dominator smiled.
'No!' I yelled. I suddenly seemed to grow in size and strength with guns now in my hands. 'This is your doing Dominator!'
I sprang forward toward the Dominators armoured form firing wildly. The bullets flooded forward endlessly but only bounced off the skull faced breast-plate and red visiored head and the lead gauntlets. Quickly his heavy silver boot crossed my face soon followed by the lead gauntlets.
Through the entire battle the lake remained placid.
Unconscious I awoke on a couch to the face of a stout man with a gotee', monicle, cigar and a small notebook and pencil.
'Who are you?' I asked of him, as he sat towering over me in his chair.
'Jour Phycologist!' he proclaimed in a corny german accent.
'My what?' I replied.
'I'm ere to hep jew vith jour outburst of anger!' he exclaimed. in the same accent.
I turned and my mother was watching over from a distance in the Dominators arms.
'Well then start!' I proclained angerly. 'If I were you I'd start with Freuds phyco-sexual theory switch to Eriksons phyco-social view and figure out how this might tie in with Dirkhiem.'
The monicle fell out of eye as they bugged out with my onslaut of phycology.
'Vell!' he said as he took the fallen monicle and put it in the oposite eye. 'Ya! Ve vill start there!'
I laid back in content and let him question me.
'Do jew lov jour muter?'
'Yes, she is my mother, no less no more.'
'Hm! Do jew hat your fater?'
'I dislike him, he's my father, no more, even less. We do not get along.'
'Hm! Vitch do jew admire?'
'I admire the few masculine traits of father, the personality of mother.'
'Hm! Normal!' he exclaimed.
'You forgot the boy meditating in my mind so fuck off!'
'Myk! Jew are hostil!'
'I am not Bastard.' I layed motionless.
'Frreinds!?' he asked
'Death Dealer, Calm struggling Alien, Thesus, the Artist, Indian in Black, Young militant, and all other dark ninjas!'
'Ha!' He chuckled as he scribbled in his small note book.
'Vhat do jew admire in dem?'
'There wills, ethics, individuality, personality, and all they can teach me!'
'Jew sound so chure!'
'Ich am jew vool!' I exclained imating his accent.

"Ich am Uffended!' he exclained.
'Goot!' I yelled back.
He turned red and steam whisped out of his ears.
'Ach!' he exclaimed. He turned about and then back to me and handed me a knife.
'Here! Let Dirkhiem show trough!'
'Ha!' I said as I took the knife. 'Dirkhiem said suicide was a social thing, not a personal thing! He was a sociologist not a phycologist! You are a fraud 'Freudy'!' I put the knife to his neck. 'The Dominator sent you. That acounts for your ignorance and stero-type!'
'It icht not true.' He said meekly.
'Dirkhiem may have been cocrect. but I believe that dieing by your own hand is an act of cowerdice! Thus I will never perform such an act!'
'But I vill!' the pig-eyed, cigar smoking, fat man siezed the knife and fell upon it. His blout quivered a bit and died.
'Coward.' I said to the body. Then I turned to see Dominator, standing behind Mother. 'You to are a Coward, Dominator! Do you here me, a Coward!'
All the while the lake remains placid. And from above the bottom is drowned out and unimportant as people stare at there shalow and flat reflections.

8307.04 suppelmentary

I wrote yesterday morn yet not that night as I intended. So I write this morn for last night and intend to write again tonight.
Confusion whirled in my head as lay on the floor and asked.
'Where is everyone?' the question was unanswered. Only the tempest answered with a light sprinkel and some lightning, no thunder.
I got up and reached a phone and dialed the number of Death.
'Hello?' came the Death Dealers voice.
'Hello.' I answered back.
'Hello! Where are you Sensi?' he said in surprize.
'Don't call mey teacher. You obveously didn't get my messages. I'm home, alone.'
'Home?! Didn't you go to the house of the Dominator?'
'I did. It's strange to explain, and I wish not to.'
'Fine by me. What else is up?' he asked in reply.
'Not much. How about coming on over. There's no one else here.'
'Great!' the voice became muffeled as he turned from the phone. 'Hey Mom! can I go over the Tigers? ..... Why not? .... No .... That sucks mom! ..... Yah but .... O.K.' then his voice returned. "I can't go over there, but you can come over here.'
'Theres no one here I can ask to go.' I replied.
'We have problems, huh?' he replied.

'No. No problems. I'm coming over. ... Can you come and get me?'
'Yes. I'll be right over.'
We both hung up. I went about the buisness of packing and then stared out the window. The tempest raged. Thunder, Lightning, dark clouds, and pelting rain.
I sat all my stuff by the door then steped out into the tempest. I wanted to match the fury of the storm but couldnot. I couldnot bring myself to do such a thing.
Death Dealer then drove up in the horizon and quickly against my will an iron mask fell upon my head. I began to dance about like a maniac matching the energy of the storm and Death Dealer. Nothing I thought I might say came out.
We then left and went to his abode. We then changed and ran out into the storm. We reveled in energy and lightening. We ran like lunitics and furies to the home of Thesus. Still gone on a long journey Death Dealer alowed the life of pets and home in there absence.
While there we, or I, tried to master a move of skill with little success. We then walked back in the subsiding storm and talked of many past experiences.
Once back at Death Dealers home we played in the puddles of water left by the storm. Then to cleanse ourselves and rest we laid down in the water and in the light rain. Then we ran around the block and came to rest.
Once inside the phone rang and the mother of the Dealer called me to the phone.
'There you are my son.' said the voice of mother.
'Are you home?!' I asked
'Yes and your fathers here.' she said in delighted tone of voice.
The storm which had given the Deathe Dealer and I oh, so much fun ubruptly stoped. But my mood continued.
'Death Dealer we have parents now! Wish you to stay at my house still or stay here?' I wished hard he would wish to stay but he said 'let's go!', and we did.
Once home nothing stop us. We ate, then practiced the art of fighting death, and learned to cheat death also. I learned so much and even more.
We continued this until the early morning then settled in for rest. Yet rest we didn't for neither could sleep so we spoke further into the morning hours. About two or three hours into morning we both slept to the chime of noon.
Death Dealer is gone, I sit here writing and now wish to fill in the holes of journal. Transcriptions to come back.
8307.04 considered
Why don't you write of firecrackers and independance? Because there is none, I reply.
When Death Dealer was here we fought with staffs. His painted mine not, everytime we hit mine got a black scar, his a scratch.
My poor battle wounded wombat stick is all black scared and tarnished, as if set under a black candle driping wax.
I to resemble that stick, covered with wounds from battle.
In battle with elements I have grown sore, sunburned and bruised.
In battle with Death Dealer I have the sore fingers of staff combat and marc of his claws on wrist and neck. Yet from these I gained knowledge.
In battle with a machine, I nearly lost an eye. It spit dirt to me and a speck became a boulder in eye to force it shut and usless. Water ran free to no avail, ony the touch of loving mother relieved my pain.
In battle with myself I have confusion, loss of time, and writers cramp.
So I yelled No! No! No! I'm leaving now, while the fighter still remains within me.
Damon D'artagnon
. . . . . . Killgrave *Skull insignia*

8307.05

No more holes in the tale of a lads growth. No more gaps or white, blank pages.
I wrote a letter to the cousins of Holly joy and the Young militant. Holly joy having been gone for so long to a state far away. Then called the parents of the Young Militant to join his sister, and he did.
I wrote them both, wishing joy.
I saw a moive, one of ghost, love, pain and agony. A Young woman tired of her samuri husband, and loved a student. The samuri then killed the student, his wife, and by honor himself.
There spirits lived on, to cause problems.
In came a new, modern, american family, and friend. They were all happy until ....
The spirits caused, through subtle manipulation, the wife to tire of her husband, love his freind. The husband returned to see this and began a fight between himself and friend. The spirits then posesed them all and in the samuri tradition fought.
It ended the same. Which was dumb. Why live it over, if not to change it?
Why live it over if it is to be the same, mother? Why?
Why let the wounds be cut open again? The sword hurts the same.

8307.06

Midnight approaches swifty. Queen Nab, the fairy queen of Shakesphere, will draw near now in her chariot of nutshell on gosimer wings.
Puck! run off and leave me alone. I just remembered the sorrow alone. I just remembered the sorrow of two star-crossed lovers, it turned out about as well as the affair you handeled my Mid-summers night dream.
Loki blends so well with the Dominators family. In coversations with Dominator, Witch-mother and I, he revealed in every indignity I suffered, the snake.
'So' said the Witch-mother turning to Loki 'Tiger, how are you?'
My name she gave to he!? And no one corrects her, as I try she changes the subject.
Your skin burned for that Loki, now your flesh peels like the snake you are.
7 after midnight the Regulator tells. The magic number of morning. In 7 hours and thirty minutes I will awake Loki for his appontment to have hair cut, a mohawk might do.
Death Dealer today we will talk, Isn't Thesus back yet?
All is choas, nothing is done or will be acomplished this night only sleep will take me now.

8307.07

Theus is back from his long journey. I found this out while taking one of my own journeys.
I float in the darkness of space, there is nothing but the tick of a clock and the flame of a candle. Death Dealer said I have a problem with fear. I knew of none. This means either, Death Dealer is wrong mistaking caution for fear, or I fear Fear and thus have told myself have not fear of Fear to avoid fear.
'What do I fear?' I ask. Death Dealers voice rings out in the darkness.
'You fear many things, for instance, blades.'
'I fear not blades. They are dangerous when wielded foolishly. I can work a blade and be faced with a blade, but when I get careless, I put mine down.'
'What if your oponet doesn't, or you are faced with a foolish oponet? What then? Put down your blade?! You will die then!'
'I don't fear death or pain. I would try to disarm a foolish oponet, as I have done to thee!'
Death Dealers only reply then is belowing laughter echoing in the darkness. Nothing more is said or done. I just sit and ponder.

*Death Dealer and I often had debates over the purpose of learning to fight (as well as when a fight begins and ends and who the victor is). His philosophy at the time was that you learn to fight so you can. Mine was that you learn for the sake of learning and to defend yourself. He also believed the first physical aggression starts a fight and whoever is left standing is the winner. Where as I would argue that any conflict or disagreement is the start of the fight and who ever proves his point is the winner.
Example : A bully 'butts' in a school lunch line. The kid now behind him asks him to go to the end of the line as he should. The bully asks if the kid wants to fight about it. He says no, but insists that he go to the end of the line and summons a teacher. The bully then punches the kid and/or throws him around some. The kid doesn't 'fight' back. Teachers come and take the bully away, the kid gets back his place in line.
When did the fight begin and end? Who won? Does it change if you know that the Bully never lost a 'fight' or that the kid was second degree black belt?*

8307.08

I'm on the brink, I'm on the threshold, I'm dancing on a razors edge.

I walk forward, I walk back,
Everyone thinks I'm a minac. *maniac*
It cuts deep, It cuts clean,
I grit my teeth and say I'm mean.
Cartwheels, handstands and summersalt,
It isn't and can't be my fault.
I begin to fall, my life is mine.
Someone, please, throw me a lifeline.
I fall, I call, I catch, the razors back
The round shuriken flys and lands with a thack!
I stand on the saber and face a friend.
He pulls a knife and charges, I know it won't bend.
He attacks and I must think,
Move and counter-attack in a blink.
kNock the blade away, sieze the arm
Push him down the to the metal and smile with charm.
Suddenly he is gone and I feel a knife in my back.
That God Damn Minac!
Twist and turn, hope he's frail
I miss, the knife cuts deep, I fail.
My life is no longer mine
He's severed my blood line
I clutch my side and once again fall,
Landing on the blade of an ax, I crawl.
I find my secrete destination
My encompasing imagination.
I draw inner strenght and will
The fires rage within me, I am hell
The attack starts again like that

Now I move like a cat!
I sieze the arm and take the steleto
I then turn and gut him until hollow.
The samuri charges with Katana
I counter and attack like a Manta
My razor dull, all my foes have fallen
I choose not to live my will fallen
I cut myself and bleed away life
All of this from blade and knife.
I wither and die, my life a lie
Death Dealer, perhaps is right,
You can't defeat fear when its source burns to bright.
Goodnight.
. . . . DDK *skull insignia*

8307.09

God Damn that Son of a bitch! His nerve!
The Calm Struggling alien, for the first time in the five years of our friendship, decides it would be nice for him to stay over here the night for conversation and retrospect. We hadn't really seen each other in months only talked briefly on the phone.
I ask my mother, everything is fine. He asks his mother, she says
'Ask dad. Oh, and if you please, I'm stranded here with no gas. Could you bring me some?'
The Calm struggling Alien turns to me for aid. His brother, against parent orders, left the house, unfortunately he took the keys to the cars with him. I gave aid transporting him to the lot giving her gas, and finding a need for more. I transport the Alien and myself to a gas station and back to give her more gas.
We then followed her home to the father of the Calm Struggling Alien, now known as the Bastard.
'Father may I go?' I heard him ask. I was inside, they in the back yard.
'Perhaps when your friend dresses like a person and acts normal, you may have a chance, thou slight.'
'Father' said the Alien, 'Would you difine 'Normal', please?'
'Look!' the Bastard yelled so as to shake the house 'I gave you a reason and said No! Now thats Final! Do you understand?'
The Cam Struggling Alien came in and broke to me the news I already heard. I left trying to consel the Alien with hope.
The Bastard! Who is he to say I'm not normal simply because I know who and what I am and am not afraid to be just that! Who is he to imply and have said before that I am a corrupting influence upon there son who they treat unequaly among his other syblings!
I try to understand from there point of view but cannot. I may be doomed never to know, but I wish to ask, and find out.

*Remember I said I knew the Calm Struggling Alien was trying to escape? This is just a glimpse of his home life. Frequently (in front of me) he was told that he couldn't even pick decent friends. He would go out of his way to help his parents (like here) while his brothers would walk over them (like here) and he would be the one punished for it (like here). I'm sorry to report - this never got better. In fact it gets worse.*

8307.1Ø

I have procrastinated to the last moment. Killroys day of birth is tomorrow and I have yet to by a card to tell him I know and didn't forget.
Yet of forgeting I stand acused in my next crime. Death Dealer has a teacher, one of which he speaks of often. I have yet to met him , and would someday like too. I haven't even seen his visage in picure, sketch or flesh, I have no image to place in the concept of specific person.
I forgot his last of two names. The first is Gary, and the last is the same as his mentors first and last. I have become obsesed with finding the image to place in my mind. I looked through the book of a school year and looked for the name Gary fitting the only other clue to his image I have. I found him not.
If only I could remember his last of names I see if it missing or if I missed.
I feel like the fool in a kings court, and wish not to ask the Dealer of Death for fear of sounding like a pry.
Tomorrow I get a card for Killroy and try to find a way out my memory blok and image gap. *skull insignia*

8307.11

Killroy recieved his card and I later a thankyou.
Noland is the last name to the first of Death Dealers teacher. I slyly sliped into conversation and also told Death Dealer that someday I must met this teacher because I hate a blank image.
Thesus came along for a viewing of the sequal without equal. Sex and laughter were cut down yet the statements about religion, bigitry, politics, and self-honor were made with power.
Soon after I found out that the Dealer of Death had met again with pain and had told no one. I watched his every movent, notices small flenches, twitches, and cover-ups of pain.
We still yet had the gumption to take all back roads home, get lost, rely on my terrible sence of direction, and still find the way home.
A great day, lasting into night. Yet Death Dealer tried to give me money I needed not, so I will return the money in a very sly maner as yet not devised, perhaps through the mail or by sneaking it into his room. The wheels turn.
Hair cut by the barber Jerry Ann comes in the morrow of the next day. Oberion sleep.

8307.12

Tis the evening, dusk has fallen yet the heat has not.
I returned the money belonging to Death Dealer. I sent it to him in card spawn from delusions of my paraniod scitzophrenia. He was angered at first yet later cooled off. I was fully forgiving after returning his numchucks.

~~~A beast roamed the forest and it found his prey. Of all the nameless faces it could have chosen it attacked Thesus. I stood by watching the blood and gore in ... joy. I could have stoped it but I didn't! ~~~

I'm living in a fantasy, I must return to reality. No one will ever know me, how will I know wether there friend or enemy. My destination, imagination for the core of reality is fantasy!
My door is open. I envite the darkeness to my abode. But it is trick, for the door is locked. However any Ronin, ninja or any other masterless beast or agent of darkness may gain entrance. Simply by pulling the handle.
Coolness! Coolness! please O come to me. I burn up in here now and stand to you nearly skyclad in you eminace and darkness. Help me live.

8307.13

The coat of secrecy and power, the binding of age, style, and steadfastness, then comes the staff that wears it all.
I have a new lamp. One with for levels of intesity and a stalk of symbolizm. On top a white face wearing the good mask of happiness. Below a black mask wearing the face of despair and sadness.
You got nothing to lose, because you don't lose when you lose fake freinds.
The Bezerker and the Assassin rage through pages of fantasy countered only by old image of friend and the darker image of another friend, the Mirrorr and the Killer Shadow don't truely exist.
Air restored, coolness returned. I sleep now without inviting darkness.
Mother, as always, is adventurous and may take a job in an institution. One to take care of adolensent boys, who have commited crimes against the society. If she takes this job I wish her luck and courage. For in this place she may salvage the life of one who took a life or ruined a life. (Yet is that fair?)
Tomorrow the Wombat become a new weapon of power and mystic! I start in the morn.

© March 1998 (copyright implied by date of entry, date covers web publication)