Book 3 December 13 1983 to July 5 1984

8403.11

"We rewrote your character." said this distored group. "No. I won't alow it! You aren't hero's, your jokes! I'm not blind!"
After much debate Black-stone again went into battle, only half blind.
We fought a demon of great power. All I could do was shoot at it then run for help. No one listend to me as someone else defeated the demon with ease.
I was then to be in controll but the lunitic rampaged and killed my capture. Then I had to explain to the authoritize, but instead I ran.
I'm a lame hero, half blind. But I'm better than the rest of my toop. Smash! Kill! Defeat! My hero was not built for this, he will not operate this way.
I left this fantasy and went back to my surrealism.
It was dark and silent and my doctor looked scrawny and I felt hollow. I called my Cat and got his answering machine. "I'm in a the moment but unwilling to talk intelligibly. If you will kindly put yourself on hold by hanging up I will gladly call you back when I'm ready."
I hung-up my head but refused . to take off my coat and I waited in the hollow darkness. My empty head stared blakly out into space as my body grew bitter and angry.
"Loki!" I called to ill miss-fit as I put on my head. "I'm leaving! I don't know where I'm going but I'm tired of waiting to be told. Goodbye!"
Thus the trap-door opened and slamed shut as I fell further into the darkness. Loki turns over in his sleep and mumbles "What?"
I fell about aimlessly, floundering like a dieing fish. I tryed to clean my glasses but water only made the dust turn to mud. With a lack of anything eles to do I landed in Death Dealers yard.
"Come on in!" He chuckeled to my straw filled body. I followed his young radiance inside and stood at this door. Death Dealer laughed some more siezed his coat, called his sister and friend - two fat chattering little birds.
"Lets go!" he commanded and we left. Yet the plan failed the Picture backed up and we simply went home. His home, not mine.
The unwilling race was on.

I fell he drove. I landed hard and ashamed at the house of crosses two and a half minutes before him. I don't know what to do in the house of crosses so I stayed outside, waiting in my hollow darkness.
Death Dealer arived in his nimbus of light, lightening my darkness.
"Come in!" he said in a commanding tone
"I'm afraid" I said.
"Of what you God Damn Son of a Bitch! You going to cut out on me now?"
I followed him into the red darkness of the gothic rooms.
There is a crack of lightining as the door closes and the Cross begins to sway. Every one about knows I don't believe and they say he knows all; and the Beast King laughs in my mind.
I drop my twenty dollars of thanks for my life and the creation of my friends then take my sisors and cut out a door of exit. Death Dealer watch's me leave and pities my cowardace.
"You don't have to sing!" he yells.
"Singing doesn't bother me!" I yell back "It's the beliefe not . the people, the symbol, the room, or the customs!"
I leave the house of Crosses and the eye of some God. I leap on my red stallion and turn on the fire and brimstone.
I press my stallion hard and screech to a halt and force myself to devore fire to fill my emptiness. My mouth burned and my tounge forked as the fire leaked out onto my hands.
I viewed a man, then my hands. His hands were clean mine it seemed were covered with blood and entrolls .. I became sick and sped off the grounds.
Through the darknes I ran and finally got to house. I always feel safe at house, I don't know why. Dominator lives there sometimes. And he's here now.
I'm hiding in the basements dark corners and my strange words. He's stupid, he can't read what I write because his mind is so narrow ideas come out folded.
Loki knows how to torcure me though, he keeps the radio on. He doesn't know the words sting, but he knows it . can agravate me.
So here I sit alone. Writing words that mean words which portray ideas and fellings which I think I have. Hopeing to learn from what I write if I can understand what I felt.
The radio plays and it tells me to Eat it and Jump because I'm the King of Pain and my chances of happiness is Against all Odds because Love is a Stranger. Even Houdini can't aviod music, or life and death.
I think my feet have blisters. I want to rest on this Fine fine Day.

8403.12

"Not much wednesday. Why?" I asked Death Dealer.
"We met at the house of Crosses. Want to come?"
"Quit tring to sell me the God Damn Church!"
I yelled and snaped. I had no right. A God Damn Church (Which the was the first thing he replied with) is an impossiblity (and he was correct). *Not really, but at the time I was ignorant enough to concede that.*
I felt a need to apoligize for my snaping and a great need to explain why.
I went to his home straight after school and waited. Turning over in my mind the most . assertive way to say it (funny I use tecniques from one of his least liked classes).
- I snapped and I had no right to say God Damn Church. But I know you know how I feel about the church. It agravates me when you constantly try to bait me into going to you church. "What are you doing?" "Not much." "I'm going to church Wnat to tag along?" --
> Sounds awlfull bitter there <
- May be it is. And you were right about one thing. I often go to a church with a closed mind. But that was desision I made long ago when I went every Sunday --
>Thats something for you to work out. It's not my ... <
He's not listening.
--Death Dealer, I worked that out a long time ago thats what I'm saying. It may be an outdated desision, but I want to make that choise --
>You really feel that guilty?<
I nodded. I felt quilty about snaping at him. I get upset when I find myself yelling at people I care about. Espeacily Death Dealer, Theseus, Brown-wolf, and my Mother.
> Look, I like my church and I'm excited about it. I won't . stop talking about it. <
I understand that. The church is a deep part of you and I know that. If I tried to removed that from you, it wouldn't be you anymore. I'm not trying to remove that from you. I'm trying to keep you from forcing it on me.
I realize you would probilly feel I would be a much better person than I am now if I embraced your church. But I don't think so, and if you add it to me, I will no longer be me.
Perhaps he believes I gave up church because of some tramatic expirence I had. When I went to church I enjoyed it. I met people, I got to know them, I had fun at the picnics, concerts, and fund raisers. I looked forward to it because I would be with my Grandfather.
Then the words no longer made sence to me - they still don't. I asked Grandpa to stop taking me. He told me the offer was still open - I know it still is, but I'm not going back until the words make sence again and I don't think they ever will. Espeacily with people trying to force feed them to me.
Maybe Grandpa died two or . three years after that because he thought he had nothing left - no job - nothing meaning full - my Grandsons aren't even in church.
If thats true then I killed my Grandfather - but I'm still not going back. *Where did that come from? I guess guilt must find a place to land no matter how far from the truth it is.*
The only think I can think of that I might even remotely think of as bad in connection with the church (in my experiencs) is Scouts. We only met at a church, and long after I gave up going. I didn't stay in scouts long but that was because I hated scouts, not church.
some of the most quite, peaceful, and revealing moments I spent were in a small church out in the middle of a forest at Scout camp.
I nave nothing against the church but its words. I know the church can't be all bad - it made you, it made my Grandfater, influced hundreds of others (including myself) and probibly the base of the modern world. Let those who need it , use it.

I came home and wrote this Basicly to you Death Dealer / Cat. * Read it someday.

*If he where still devoutly religious (in the Christian sense) I would still recommend it. But he has in his life come to many of these same conclusions.
Something else I want to point out. I had the same problem with Scouts that I had with the Church. Even though I didn't have the words for it then - that problem was hate. Both exude palpable hate toward what I knew I was (homosexual). I couldn't stay where I felt as if my existence was threatened for nothing more then what I felt.
I still have very fond memories of the Church at Scout camp. It was the secondary church. It was in the middle of the forest and generally not used. I liked it because no one else was there. I could sit in the wilderness and hear the love of God with out the hate of his followers. To this day being in an empty church sparks very reverent feelings in me.*

8403.12 marc the one before supplimental

They say a man in disguise can speak freely on any subject.
I believe that deppends on the disguise. How thourgh it is, how easliy it is shed, and how easily it is discovered. If he's totally safe, and can get out at anytime without being discovered I believe he will speak freely anyway.
I pride myself on having no masks (though I know I have them). I guess that makes me one of the most censored self - censored men in the world.
The light turned to me today and said "Never write just to write. Write to learn!" I believe this to be true. So what am I learning from writing this? My previous entryies simply collect dust.
I think I will have to obligate myself to dust off that dust and read what I wrote before. See how, and if I've changed. Relive a few moments and see wheter they were good or bad.
I wrote superfically for a year, they were to be graded. Since ... what was that date ... 8201.01 I've written seriously. Getting better I hope.
A little over two years. It feels longer than that.

8403.13

Of the five elements of the world only three are readily present.
Urth is always under us and abundant. Siol is the bases of all things.
Ayre is always about us filling our lungs with life and power. It rushes about never seen but always felt.
Wytr flows around us and within us. It is the third element esential to life and its growth.
Fyre, however, must be made. When it is made it feeds on Arye and is the enemy of Wytr, but what it comsumes it returns to Urth. It can be destructive or usefull.
Sorce is the fifth element which is separte from all the others. It neither creates or destroys. It niether gives or takes. Sorce is found, usally within yourself. Source is an empty void of knowledge. Put in, and it stores and craves for more without takeing. It sorts and arranges and helps us understand the other four elements. But one thing is understood, you will never totally understand.
Three that are ready, one that inter-acts with the other three and one that pasively/actively observes the other four.
Intresting chain.

8403.14

I looked into a mirror, I cleaned the whole in my ear, then cleaned my face.
Then I lookeD and put away the soiled white cotton. I looked back up and was bleeding from the nose. The suculant, glesening red liquid ran down my mouth and over my top lip. There it balled up, ready to fall on my waiting tounge.
It's been so long, I thought, so long since I've had that taste.
No! I stoped myself and wiped away the blood. As I stoped the bleeding I wondered why I bled. I don't care, I bled, I soiled my face, and I was ready to revel in that filth.
I should cry, but I can't. I've tired before. When I needed to, when I wanted to, when I simply wnated to see if I could, and I can't. Something stops me. I feel the sorrow, the pain, the regret, everything. My nose will get the sniffles and my eyes get red, but the water simply will not come out.
I want to know why.
*** DDK
*******/____*Skull insignia* WAS HERE ...
********************************* AGAIN.

8403.15

* Bonzi!
* The Indian bought a gun
and we had fun.
* Not a shot was fired
But we flew highter.
* We rolled down a hill
like Jack and Jill.
* There was a dip in the road,
my stallion in attack mode.
* We had fun,
The Indian bought a gun.

*What fond memories. Chris (the Indian in Black) needed a ride to buy a gun. I took him. Afterward, traveling down * hill (in my typical lead foot fashion) Chris yelled "Dip!" I looked over at him and asked "What?" and watched him grab the ceiling of the car. I looked back at the road and saw nothing. Then we where airborne. I took off an angle so my biggest concern was that I not land in yard off the street. I turned the wheel as if I could change direction in mid-air. then I realized I had to wait. When we did hit the ground (engine still revving, wheel turned) we took of at a sharp right toward the opposite curb - and a tree. I turned the wheel again, but we had 'skipped' again. fortunately it was a much shorter jump and we took a less sharp turn to the left and centered out in the road. I drove on like nothing had happened. Chris wanted to do it again.*

8403.16

'Oh, Shit!' I thought. Where am I, it's dark and it's cold.
There are others around me. Sick and dieing most of them lie there like me. But then there are some trying to get out. I admire them, I discust the others.
I find stairs and climb. I begin to feel better.
~Bam~ I run into a mirror, it shaters and cuts me. I panic and run, run like hell!
Right, Right, left, Right,left,left,
climb, climb, Right, left, fall,left,
left, Right, Right, Climb,fall,climb
again or was it fall, left, Right,Right,
Right or was it left, Left, left, Right,
left or was it Right, Right, left,
Climb or was it fall, Climb, Right.
"Oh Shit!" I screamed. Where am I. I forget up, I can't tell down. Which is right, which is Left. I get dizzy and my . world spins. = Fall =
I'm in the middle of a room, a large room, of epileptic Break dancers. There movements are graceful, discusting, impossible, and deadly.
They ask to dance in there shaky voices but all I can do is waltz to a rock tune.
Controll I thought, control is the key. * Walk out.
"Walking won't work," said the wizards voice, "Run"
Run I do, but he laughs. "Run" I thought - Run! - I climb the stairs but end up on the floor below. I fall threw the floor and end up on the floor above. I'm getting nowhere in oppiste directions.
"There's no point!"
"There's always a point!" said the Wizard, "Always!"
I screamed as I ran down the hall then jumped out the window.
The wind was strong and I was slamed against the hard rock of the outer wall with the bitting wind.
"No-no!" said the Wizard "Play my game."
"But it isn't fair!" I yelled into the cold stone which burned my flesh.
"Nothing ever fair" said the . Wizard, and I never heard him again.
"Climb" I thought. Climb! My fingers dug into the hard stone. I chiped it here, knocked it away there. I never really hurt the wall, or made a difference in the stone, but I climbed. I couldn't see the ground or the sky. I couldn't tell up from down- which way was I going?
Cold! My fingers are numb and bleeding. I hurt, I need back inside.
Then on the wall there he was. He was climbing from my up to my down.
"Where are you going?!" I yelled to him.
"I'm climbing up this tower." he yelled back.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"NO, Are you?" he replied
"No." I answered "Take my hand." He reached out to me and lost his grip. He fell past me, but did he fall up, or down.
No, that's not the way its s'posed to be.
No, your not s'posed to get to me.
I would close my eyes but I don't want to miss this dream.
Inside, I'm suddenly inside.
facing a window ... safe? I reach . foward and slam the shudders.
Safe.
I turn to a room of mirrors. no one image is the same. Image after image into the infinite darkness. I scream and turn to the window that is now gone. I turn back to the mirror grit my teeth and run straingt through. Mirror after mirror shatters and cuts me. I bleed profusely about the face and hands, until ...
One mirror stands alone.
The rest lay shattered at my feet. One left. I can't bring myself to shatter it. What to do, I think. Do to What, it reflects back.
"Aaah!" I yell. "Ha!" it reflects as I lay it face down on the ground. Now I don't have to see it.
I look down, water falls up from the mirror as if its a hole. It's a light shower, and I step into it.
I fall throught, but the floor I land on is the one with the hole. I'm on the roof in a rageing tempest.
Rain hits like hail, Thunder, lightening.
"Why!" I yell to wind as it knocks me from the roof to fall to my death.

8403.17

Please pardon the fact that I'm dead and I'm to be hung in the morning.
* Goodnight

8403.18

This is realy strange.
The sky is grey, lit only by lightning. Thunder rattles us larger than the hail. The rain is cold and the snow becomes slush-like.
The ground is hard, wet, cold, white, grey, and brown. Trees break and fall under the presure. Power is threatened and presures man to shatter.
In all this misery my head-aches, my stomache is abiguous and tounge burns. I can't breath and my muscles ache. All because I run to much.
Thunder, lightning, snow, rain, hail. It never done all this before. Not to me.
Why am I sick? I haven't been sick in so long I forgot what it was like.
Thunder, lightning, snow, rain, hail, big snow.
Ice pirates?

Moma, Trees are falling. ... Moma?

8403.19

Crack scream the trees. Help me please. Pity me please, yells the twisted Sister, Pity me!
=Where are you = Shouts the Beast.
Thank you Moma nature, when you cripple man in the dark you make him stronger, but he's unable to find me.
Flicker flicker! little candle. Three candels, two weak, one strong. One of them flickers like lightning and streaks across my page.
I stare at that flickering flame and I realize there is no escape. I am drawn like a moth but I can't let myself burn.
= Where are you = whimpers the Beast, scared of the dark.
Black wax oozes down from the strong candle. The black candle gives off the most, and the steadest light. But it drips its hot black waste all over my hands.
Oh you stone in love, flirts my twisted sister. She smiles in his tight jeans and cracks her make-up. She turns to straighten his slip and I level off the gun.
> Bam! < She/he/it screams and dies. Who's crying now? I wonder. certainly not me, Death Dealer, the Indian or Theseus. > Bam < die again my twisted sister. Let me escape.

*I don't remember if anyone remembers Twisted Sister. They where KISS knock-off in the 80's. They where basically bad Drag Queens singing Rock 'n' Roll. Good songs, MTV video hits - but still as much a joke as a band. I think they took to the extreme the idea that most of the rock bands of the 80's looked like Drag Queens (long hair and make-up) and tried to make as much fun of other bands as possible. Still they brought out a lot of Homophobia (aimed at them) in discussions like "Do you think they are really fags or is it an act?" That was the image of what I was afraid I would become.*

8403.2Ø

* Mommy why?
* Why did I have a dream that my cat died, home, alone?
* Why is Death Dealer trying to call me my real name and make it seem like a joke?
* Why did I dream I died?
* Why did I dream, Mommy?

Because you where told.

* Mommy why?
* Why are you so harsh on other men?
* Why can I do the things they can do?
* Why do I have to sleep in the cold?
* Why, Mommy, why?

Because I said so.

* Why is there a Beast after me mommy, that only I can see?

* Mommy why won't you answer me?

*Mommy are you there?

Mommy answer me! Please.

8403.21

It's still cold. We're still primitive.
No learning tomorrow. I'm cold.
I'm so tired and achey.
* * * Goodnight.

8403.22

Splash! Ha-ha! I love the non-reality of that reality, or is that the reverse?
Explain! Wahhop! Catch me! Save! I can scream lies if I want.
If you are vergin (if you read entries before this you aren't) then don't read on - Not for the Innocent.
I was out at the mall standing by a wall, tied by invisible chains.
Death walked thru that wall and came to me. He had blonde hair and strong arms with a gentel touch.
He held me close like a lie, and offered the comfort of a fortress. He said nothing but spoke often.
>No! Away creature of the light! Away from me! <
The darkness cried because he felt soooo good! We need that touch, it cried out of the void. Need!
I wish it had happened - I wish I wouldn't have to refuse - but Death! My Death.
Young and Wasted. I'm a flower studded waste-land - and I'm happy.
When I'm ready to live then I'll Die. Not untill I'm thru here.

*I was approached and propositioned. I turned him down. Do you know why? I thought if I said yes, he would take me to a secluded spot and beat the shit out of me. I couldn't believe that anyone else would actually feel the way I did. I'd heard the stories of someone that would make a homosexual advance only to lure the 'fag' to his doom. This is how scared I was.*

8403.23

The fighting desert man has returned. The nomad of No-land.
Why does it seem ominous that he should return the day I bleed and the power returns. He and Death Dealer both went out. I turned down the invitation.
Man gave us power again, now nature again storms.
Interesting -------- power returns and I'm drained. I can't write any more, tonight.

8403.24

Oh my head aches from the fumes of some desguised emotion. Dominator Demands, that is his nature and prey one day his Doom.
Any day Dominator, any day I'll help you move, you're unable to do so yourself you fat Son-of-a-bitch. I'll help you move, if its away from me, not toward me.
I was so angered my teeth grit. I don't know what Death Dealer thought.
My class of skill was just what I needed. My mood lighten emensly. But as soon as I returned my veil of anger drawn back into place by an invisible hand.
Why is your amour heaviest on your back Dominator?

© July 1998 (© implies date of entry but reflects web publication)