doxincognito: We were having a dicussion earlier about how you'd decorate a cabin in the woods without using dead animsl. We came to the conclusion you have to find gay mountain men.

novembertrees: Mountain man hide has qualities similar to leather, I'm sure.

novembertrees: Toughened by the elements... You wouldn't even need to tan it.

doxincognito: XD No, you'd get them to decorate your Cabin.

novembertrees: <.<

doxincognito: Though there was some contention on whether or not the fact that they would be gay -mountain men- that would mean they would use dead animals anyway, then just do it tastefully.

novembertrees: Obviously, I'm thinking along a TOTALLY DIFFERENT TRAIN OF THOUGHT....

doxincognito: And that's so much of what I love about you <3

novembertrees: You're going all Queer Eye.... I'm going Donner Party.


In my defense, I haven't had any caffeine yet today.

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.

2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4.Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together, and post the result as a comment in this post. Also, pass it along in your own journal because it's more amusing that way.

He's a superhumanly strong arachnophobic paranormal investigator haunted by memories of 'Nam. She's a manipulative communist pearl diver with someone else's memories. They fight crime!


http://www.theyfightcrime.org/

PROMPT 274
I lost myself

I lost myself again today. Really, I just couldn't handle it anymore-- the constant groaning of the clock, the feeling of angry insects digging around inside my brain-- so I pulled it out-- my final fix, the tiny pinch of dark powder that I'd set aside, "Just in case!" I'd said. "Just in case things don't go as planned!"

I'd so been hoping for brighter days, quiet, dreamless nights, but perhaps I'd been too idealistic. I wanted peace, and maybe a thin sliver of happiness, we all deserve that much, right? Even me; even a world-class fuck-up like me.

The sun was going down; night would make everything worse. There was no "Good-night, sleep tight!" for people like me. No, I got the boogeyman in my closet, scowling in the darkness, the monster under the bed caressing my ankles and whispering not-so-sweet nothings in my ear.

Lost the train of things right there, but it did feel good to write something again :)

The Disputed Territories of Dark Chicanery
"The Homeland is Safer Than Ever Before"

UN Category: Compulsory Consumerist State
Civil Rights: Below Average
Economy: Thriving
Political Freedoms: Outlawed

Location: The Beyond Regional Influence: Dominator


The Disputed Territories of Dark Chicanery is a large, economically powerful nation, notable for its complete absence of social welfare. Its hard-nosed, hard-working, cynical population of 40 million are rabid consumers, partly through choice and partly because the government tells them to and dissenters tend to vanish from their homes at night.

The medium-sized, corrupt, pro-business government devotes most of its attentions to Defence, with areas such as Social Welfare and Social Equality receiving almost no funds by comparison. Citizens pay a flat income tax of 10%. A powerhouse of a private sector is led by the Information Technology, Beef-Based Agriculture, and Door-to-door Insurance Sales industries.

The Dark Chicanery Enquirer offers weekly cash prizes for 'most blasphemous song, story, or cartoon', government officials frequently cut taxes as a distraction from antics with their secretaries, all news sources are under strict government control, and record sales of 'child-whacking sticks' have been recorded. Crime -- especially youth-related -- is relatively low, thanks to the all-pervasive police force. Dark Chicanery's national animal is the zombie, which teeters on the brink of extinction due to widespread deforestation, and its currency is the stratagem.

Dark Chicanery is ranked 1st in the region and 3,161st in the world for Most Pro-Market Nations.


Want to show a friend your nation? Send them the link below
[ http://www.nationstates.net/dark_chicanery ]


^____^

"Trailer parks are filled with madmen and prophets
Ex-con fighters and unknown poets"
-Michael D. Williams

I posted this over at my MySpace* blog. Figured it couldn't hurt much to post it here as well....



Early on in August, I posted the following here:

Just wondering--
If you were the last human on earth, as in I am Legend or the movie The Last Man on Earth, why would you want to continue on? I mean, thihnk about it-- you're it. You're all there is. Your species has become extinct, except for you. Why do you keep on, day after day, fighting against your inevitable demise? Even if you do succeed in keeping the monsters at bay for an extended period of time, you're still alone, there is still no hope for humankind because one day, you're still gonna die, and all your efforts will be for naught-- because, let's face it, once you're gone, who's gonna care that you survived for days, months, years? Certainly not the monsters.

Methinks I'm missing something here...

And I got the following response:

You make an interesting point, but I believe you underestimate the human spirit as well as the basic instincts we all have for survival. Survival is all we do in some way, shape or form. That switch is always on. You can't just turn it off because the odds are against you. And our spirit is such that we would want to take as many of those fuckers and give them a personal introduction to whatever God(s) we worship before we eventually meet Him/Them. As long as we have life, we have hope. Either hope we can be saved, or hope that we can make some difference, or just hope that we can kill ALL of those bastards...
-- my pal Jose, thinking I'm a tad pessimistic, it seems....

My response got a bit long-winded, so it gets to be its own post now:

That's all well and good, but how much of a dent is one human going to make when the rest of the world have all turned into vampires? Robert Morgan, our humble protagonist, manages to survive for 3 years, daily killing vampires who were once his close friends and neighbors, hunting around for garlic and mirrors, and keeping a journal of what he's doing. At night, the local vamps come out to his house, and pound on the walls, hollering for him to come out and join them.

Now, you can't tell me that there isn't going to be some sort of psychological trauma involved when it's your best friend and his whole family who you have to kill. And the paranoia that develops from living so much on the edge, not to mention the difficulties that arise with sleep deprivation can't be easy to live with-- although after a certain point, it ceases to be living and becomes just another bloody fight for survival. I can say from experience that merely surviving is no way to live.

Bear in mind that this storyline is far different from Romero's Night of the Living Dead; at least there, not everyone immediately turned into a zombie. In that world, I can see how there would be some hope for a cure. After all, in that scenario, there are still living people to act as a sort of a counterbalance, people who still have some sort of a hope that they can go back to living normal lives one day. In that series, there's still hope.

In The Last Man On Earth, The Omega Man, and other movies/books based around I Am Legend, there really is no hope. The protagonist is a single individual, and despite all of his knowledge of science and medicine, what it boils down to is that he's alone. He's all there is, period. There is no deus ex machina, waiting to pop up and make everything okay at the last minute. There is no hope of repopulating the planet-- or even the block of houses he lives in-- and honestly, if there was one woman left along with him, that would still be a disaster, since the only means of reproducing would involve incest. No, it's endgame for him.

Maybe I don't have the same survival instinct that other people do, but personally, I would rather die or become one of the monsters than to live with the knowledge that everthing I do is pretty much for nothing.

And, no offense to anyone else reading this, but at least I'm honest about it.

/commentary :P

* John Carpenter, FTW!!

** Yeah, I know. MySpace. I lose at life.

Received by Edward Kelley and Dr. John Dee while scrying:


"I am the daughter of Fortitude and ravished every hour from my youth. For behold, I am Understanding, and science dwelleth in me; and the heavens oppress me. They covet and desire me with infinite appetite; for none that are earthly have embraced me, for I am shadowed with the Circle of the Stars, and covered with the morning clouds. My feet are swifter than the winds, and my hands are sweeter than the morning dew. My garments are from the beginning, and my dwelling place is in myself. The Lion knoweth not where I walk, neither do the beasts of the field understand me. I am deflowered, yet a virgin; I sanctify and am not sanctified. Happy is he that embraceth me: for in the night season I am sweet, and in the day full of pleasure. My company is a harmony of many symbols, and my lips sweeter than health itself. I am a harlot for such as ravish me, and a virgin with such as know me not.

Purge your streets, O ye sons of men, and wash your houses clean; make yourselves holy, and put on righteousness. Cast out your old strumpets, and burn their clothes and then I will bring forth children unto you and they shall be the Sons of Comfort in the Age that is to come."

PROMPT 204
And with those words, he/she changed my life forever


"...and with those words, he changed my life forever!" she exclaimed, ecstatic tears trickling down her pudgy cheeks, carrying a generous amount of mascara with them. She smiled at me. "Really, you simply must meet him. I swear, the man has been truly touched by God Almighty!"

I remained skeptical. Plenty of swindlers in the world, and a lot of them used God as their witness and the Bible as their soapbox. "I don't know," I said, glancing towar the door. "My schedule's pretty full lately--"

"Oh, but earthly things don't matter, not really, do they?" she asked, making a dismissive gesture. "Not where the Lord is concerned!" Her eyes took on the fanatical glassiness I remembered from my childhood, and brought up memories of riverside baptisms and jars of strychnine and smothering humidity inside of smelly tents. Part of me wondered if she was going to start speaking in tongues.

"Uh--" I said, glancing at the clock. "Maybe. But right now, I have to get to class. I have a test today--"

"Oh, fooey. What's one little test when compared to your immortal soul?"

Quietus


1.

Dreamblood glided through Pocket D, noting with some satisfaction that his new host garnered appreciative glances from the regulars. Heroes and villains, male and female, watched him with speculation. He knew that his host hated Pocket D, but couldn't ferret out the reasons behind the feeling. At any rate, Dream was there on business, not to socialize.

He scaned the area, searching for a particular individual. When his last host, the pretty white-haired elf, had died, he'd had a friend, a shadow-walking vampire, collect some belongings from the body, things he knew he'd need for various reasons. ::Hold these things for me, my friend,:: he'd whispered into the vampire's mind. ::Hold them until I return.::

Finally, he spied the one he was searching for, and casually wandered across the glossy dance floor. He tapped the young man on the shoulder. "Kain," he said, his voice a soft, deep purr, a delicate accent coloring his words. Accent? maybe I should find out where--

Kain jumped, and Dream grinned; he'd always managed to take the young vampire by surprise. He eyed Dream suspiciously. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked in the haughty, cold voice he reverted to when nervous.

"I believe you have my things. I'd like them back." Dream slid his glasses down his nose slightly, peering over the top of them with eyes that still shimmered and gleamed like spheres of quicksilver, the one trait that followed from host to host.

"D-Dream?" Kain stammered, blinking. "Dream?"

He nodded. "Of course."

Recovering quickly, he retrieved a small velvet bag from his trenchcoat pocket, and offered it to Dream. "Not that it matters now, but--" he looked away.

As he quickly sorted various bits and pieces into his pockets, Dream glanced back at Kain. "No, finish what you were saying. Please," he added, almost as an afterthought.

With a sigh, Kain looked away. "I was just going to say that I thought you were beautiful before-- your last body, I mean. There, I said it. Happy?"

"Yes, quite." Dream turned toward the exit. "I expect I'll see you around. Good hunting, Kain."


2.

Back at D again. He knew his host loathed the place for some reason, and yet he seemed to end up here time after time. But again, this was fairly important. A social call, of sorts, but there was someone he needed to see.

There were rules that his kind were supposed to abide by, and Dreamblood had always flagrantly ignored a majority of them. First and most important was don't get involved in the lives of those you touch. You're there to serve a function, not to be friends.

But friends had been a valuable thing to Dream, as much as they had hindered his progress, they had also helped in innumerable ways. Perhaps his elders were correct; maybe he really was on the verge of losing himself in the throes of being mortal. At any rate, he had friends who needed to know he was around, albeit in a completely different gender than they were used to.

One of these individuals was currently sitting upstairs on the red side, talking with a winged felinoid. Dream brushed his mind gently, and went over to the rail, slipping bit on the ice that DJ Zero still hadn't had removed. You'd think he would-- Christmas is long since gone, though the harshness of the Rogue Isles summertime never touched the sanctity of the D.

Opal Wolfsbane, a huge Wolfen whom Dream had become good friends with during his time in the Isles, whipped his head around, searching for something. Dream suspected that his scent had been detected; his suspicions were confirmed when the huge wolf started snuffling. "Wolfie smell something," he growled. Dream simply crossed his arms and waited.

With amazing agility, Wolfie leapt to his feet, and began gracefully moving in Dream's direction. "Hello, Wolfie."

Wolfie growled, baring an impressive set of teeth. "Wolfie know you?" he asked, tone suspicious.

"Of course you do. I'm Dream. Dreamblood."

"NO!" Wolfie stormed at him. "NO! Dream a girl! What you do with Dream?" he demanded.

"But I -am- Dream." He concentrated on keeping his voice calm and friendly, wishing that Wolfie would shift to his human self. His human self might understand better than his wolf self, who tended to have a vocabulary from the Dictionary of Small Words, and tended to rely so much more on instinct. "Remember when I came back as the pretty white-haired elf? You didn't believe it was me then, either. When your brother arrested me, I had to escape, so I left that body. It was all I could do."

"Hmph," Wolfie snorted at him, leaning in to sniff closer. Sniff-sniff-sniff.... Sniff. Whuff!

"You sorta smell like Dream," he admitted, reluctantly. "Sorta."

"Thank you," Dream said, relieved that he wasn't going to meet his demise at the handpaws of one of his best friends. "I just wanted to let you know I'm still around. That was all."

Wolfie nodded. "Liked you better as a girl," he said, almost mournfully. "Prettier."

"Yeah," Dream sighed. "That's becoming a recurring theme these days."


3.

Why do I keep on ending up here? Dreamblood wondered as he made his way to the tiki lounge, drink in hand, searching. It makes my host uncomfortable, which makes me uncomfortable....

One more, he promised himself. Only one more, and she's the most important. I have to let her know, and I know she's in here....

There she is.

She was sitting at the bar, seeming to have a conversation with the Mask behind it. A Spirit of Sorrw; how appropriate, he thought, setting the drink down in front of her. "Hello, Triste."


4.

Dream sighed. He knew that coming back in a male host would disappoint many people; he knew he was risking alliances so carefully wrought over his past incarnations.

He was standing on the dance floor, feeling mildly uncomfortable as he sorted things from the small velvet bag Kain had handed him into various pockets, wishing he could have broken it to the young vampire in a way that wouldn't have been quite so jarring.

With a sigh, Kain looked away. "I was just going to say that I thought you were beautiful before-- your last body, I mean. There, I said it. Happy?"

"Yes, quite." Dream turned toward the exit. "I expect I'll see you around. Good hunting, Kain."

He hadn't taken two steps when the angel appeared before him.

He blinked, surprised. "Terriel."

"Dream," Terriel said, peering at him. Dream grinned to himself. His female hosts had all been slender little things; his new host was almost tall enough to look the angel square in the eye. "Dream, is it really you?"

"It is."

Terriel sighed, his gleamingly white armor crumbling as he took on the form of a beast. He was still for a moment.

Shifting about, Dream rubbed the back of his neck. This place was getting to him. "I should be go--"

"No!" the beast whuffed at him. "No, please-- please stay for a minute."

Dream shrugged, forcing himself to maintain a pose of casual indifference, while watching Terriel closely. "Why?"

"I need to figure out--" Terriel thrust his snout against Dream's neck, his breath uncomfortably hot, "--need to know why--"

"Why is easy. I needed a new body, and this one had everything I required," he explained, a pang of guilt slipping through his consciousness. This is my fault, he thought. My fault. Oh, God, if only I could turn the clock back-- if only I hadn't been the instrument of his fall--

Jumping back suddenly, wings fluttering, the beast clapped his handpaws together. "I know!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "I know why you did it!"

Dream blinked, his discomfort rising to the highest he'd ever felt it. The urge to turn tail and run to the relative sanctuary of the Rogue Isles was almost irresistable. The fact that he was seriously considering the Isles to be a safehaven spoke volumes.

"This is a test, isn't it?" Terriel's eyes glimmered, feral, the expression in them so far from sane that common sense told Dream he should turn tail right then and never look back. "This is a test to see if I'd still want you like that."

Dream took an involuntary step backward. "No." Good, his voice was still calm, reasonable. "No, that's not it at all."

"Of course it is." Dream repressed a shudder as Terriel wrapped his tail around his thigh. "You're testing my devotion to you!"

Full-blown panic threatened to choke him as Terriel drew him closer, embracing him. "You love me," he stated. "You do. You're just afraid to admit it." So close, hot breath on his face, the sheen of insanity in Terriel's eyes... it was too much.

"Let go of me," Dream snapped, pleased that his voice at least wasn't tainted by the trepidation surging through his system. "Let go. The tail too, before I rip the damn thing off!"

Laughing, Terriel let go of him. "Anything for you, Dreamling. My beloved."

"No..." Dream backed away slowly, blinking as the lights and music threatened to overwhelm his senses. "Don't call me that. I don't love you-- I could have, once, I admit it. But I. Don't. Love. You."

"Keep denying it, Dream. One day, you'll give in, and realize that I'm all you'll ever need."

Turning, Dreamblood bolted for the door, escaping to the corruption of the Isles, so much sweeter than the hell of . ::You'll never escape me,:: Terriel told him. :I'll always find you, my love.::

PROMPT 164
Someday never comes

"...someday never comes," I sang, off key, along with my tinny-sounding car radio.

"Well, time and tears went by and I collected dust,
For there were many things I didnt know...."

The summertime air shimmied over the highway like an old-time stripper, all wiggles and quivers, never quite showing everything the horizon had to offer, but promising, always promising...

I sighed, thinking that I needed to write that down before I forgot, and remembering all too soon that I'd left my backpack full of school things back at the last motel. At the time, it seemed a fair trade-- I swiped the car keys, gaining access to the rusty Nova with the crappy sound system and spotty air conditioning, the old guy I'd let pick me up got my backpack, which was filled with notebooks-- journals I'd been keeping the entire time I'd been on the run.

"And then, one day in April, I wasn't even there,
For there were many things I didn't know...."

I cringed at my own scratchy, off-key voice. I knew that everything was going to catch up with me sooner or later; that never kept me from trying to outrun it. So many places to go, so many places to hide....

The sun was going down as I passed a faded green sign that told me Omaha was ahead.

Again, not my best....

PROMPT 163
A celebration worthy of champagne

A celebration worthy of champaigne doesn't happen often in my life, and I guess that the times it does, well, I sometimes don't recognize it for what it is. I need to be smacked in the face with the good fortune before I recognize it for what it is. Which, I suppose, is why I almost missed the tiny gesture that set the wheels in motion for something that would change my life forever. I can't help wondering, though-- at the moment it seems like an incredible windfall; how long do I have to wait for the other shoe to fall?