Up A GODDAMN MOUNTAIN.

TDOTHT - [Cthulhu Dreams]--- Now, ladies and gentlemen... Guess what? DAddy's home.... With fresh spankin's for those what needs/wants 'em.... Now... Where to begin? We've had a lot of trouble with the Truth, around here, lately. We've not had enough of it, to begin with. Other than that, it's the same old shit, with a dash of the Russian Mob thrown in, for flavour. Don't ask. Though i did recently read "Idoru," by Gibson. And a lot of the things i Dream, perceive, or on which i other wise focus heavily, have been coming into "Reality." But whatever, right? Now let's talk about the 712 emails, in my inbox, from EIGHT DAYS AGO.

Why is it... Why is it that when i disappear... When i go up the mountain... people discuss my concepts, ideas, and postulations (which are much different from my pustulations), than when i'm actually around and try to initiate conversation, and watch my Friends.... By the way, motherfuckers, y'all's gon' have t' email me. i am not, i repeat NOTreading EIGHT DAYS WORTH of back journals, as well as eight days worth of back email.... Internut Exploder's a whore, and i just got her back on the street, tonight, ok? Cut me some slack. Email me. i'd really appreciate the persophonal touch, if nothing else. Now, back to the subject at hand:

TDOTHT - [Shoggoths Away]--- What the fuck is it with you people? Did you seriously think i was dead, and that, due to my timely demise, it was your academic duty to discuss, argue, and randomise, like a bunch of philosophy professors, settling into a new school? Sorry... that was harsh... It seems like people don't actually like to Talk with me, anymore. (Thickets - [Walking On The Moon]). All i get is people talking To me, At me, Around me, or, in the case of the morons who think i give two shits of a damn, TRYING to talk Above me. Fuck 'em. That's not conversation. That's not communication. Two things i love, i get the least of... At least about anything relevant, these days... Blah, blah, blah. Anyway, moving on.

Had a nice neat series of FUCKED UP Dreams, over the week. (Skinny Puppy - [Morter]). But they're too far gone to be of any relevance. Still deleting email. Down to 210, new. Anywho. I'm back. Hopefully i can get the whore to stay on the street, thereby providing me with the means to feed my sometimes addiction... When i get back and more settled in, here, again, i'll tell you about all the wonderful/horrible things, going on in and around my life... They are many, and their gods are mad.... *licks*

TDotHT - [Requiem For A Clone Hunter]--- I'm really fucking busy, and i simply needed to pare down my email list, and post to let you all know that i was alive... i have missed you, but not enough to come down off the mountain, as it were.... "I was having a mildly paranoid day, mostly due to the fact that the mad priest lady from over the river had taken to nailing weasels to my door, again." (TDotHT - [My Tank]). Stuff like that there..... *licks fangs* i need more meat....

Gute Nacht!

Dream Well

Back from the Mountain, and i bring thee Poems.

These from 09.12.02:

How, Evil?

Were I to dissect my nature,
would i find, there,
a penchant for evil?
In the study of the self
we find many
unreconciled truths,
and those truths can often
hurt those we love.
I can curdle your soul
with the things that i know,
or i can melt your heart
with the songs that i sing.
You haven't yet heard
the Seraphim Scream,
and you haven't yet seen
the songs that Create,
But when it comes to a point,
and all's said and done,
the Truths to be reconciled are these:
With your Dogma, I live,
But in your Evil, I am God.
(c)2002 Damien Williams. All Rights Reserved

Forming meter line
Loving the act of Making.
What room for Belief?

This from Today:

Of Love and Loss

Truth is gone.
It flushed Trust down the toilet;
a used condom, removing deceitful
seed.

The Truth is coming.
It's thrashing and bucking,
in your arms, cutting you
with its kisses.

Truth is here.
It's knocking on your door,
making no excuses for itself, though you'd like it
to dress up.

The Truth is on its way.
You called it over, to show itself to you.
(It must have looked so tantalizing,
from far away...)

There's the Truth:
Wearing spikes and chains;
blazing black, and dark effulgence.
Isn't it Beautiful?

[We've lost what it means to Be True.
Handing ourselves, one statement at a time,
to an unrelenting, all disclosing Force.
You may lose some people, yes,
But what did you think they meant by
"And the Truth shall make ye Free."?
(c)2002 Damien Williams. All Rights Reserved.

And, with that said, i'll be back, later, to comment, or, perhaps, to simply ramble until i get bored, again. *Licks* and Justice, for all.

Ta ta