--

:: 2004 15 June :: 12.11 am
:: Music: wolfsheim - gates

i've realized
they won't surface, show themselves, show their true selves, without music � the meaning in the words, the emotion in the sound.

suzy. tired. hopeless. emotions strike vision from her eyes; but it seems more that she doesn't want to see. she won't take the blindfold off. she won't do anything, really, anymore. she won't stand up for herself, but that's nothing new. resignation.

echolalia. she won't speak anymore for herself, she only repeats what others say, what others believe. their beautiful ideals, their poetry, their wonderful, original ideas.
it's getting harder for beatrice to stand this; she shouts at her more and more often now. there isn't much worry for bea to be alone now, now, now, now that constance is by her side more now. now. now. now. [uselessword, constancesays. everything is now.]

beatrice stands by the gates, waiting for them to open, waiting for them to close, waiting to find out what she's doing there.

:: 2004 14 June :: 3.35 pm

'anything you can acquire
is just another thing you'll lose.'

this goes for:
objects
friends
hope
ideals
ideas
limbs [....]
senses [ie, common]
enemies
family members
memories
coupons
emotions
computers
peers
teachers
respect
video game high scores
hope
hope
hope
the idea that maybe someday things will get better
hope.

i think something died? collapse occasion with just sitting inside baking heat waiting to be stifled stifling sniffles and i remembered this picture of constance holding someone, i couldn't see who, but we were feeling the same -- or she was this feeling.

i don't know.
[i'm worthless, it seems, in this place. bea agrees.]

:: 2004 12 June :: 2.37 am
:: Music: hungry lucy - in peices

..i shouldn't have to tell you when there's something missing, it should be apparent. in everyone. we walk down the street and this is what we'd see on everyone, everyone who felt the slightest twinge of discontent.
life........ this way...

.//..ff.ightingit.

:: 2004 12 June :: 2.37 am

...and now i'm lost.
clouds of doubt, as they call them.
funny how i'd thought i'd found some solace in someone else's ideals, but really, how could i, myself, give myself solace? suzy had her opinions about it, she knew what it was like living like that; but idealistic.... things.. that's not really humanity here... she kept silent, and i should have seen that.
i wish i didn't know that this just won't happen. i hate doubt, now, and i hate hope for leading me on, and i hate this world for giving it to me, and i hate myself for beleiving in anything besides self-destruction.
saying these things are fake, worthless, substitutes. arron still wants to run, because that'll always be an option, no matter how bad. even if they say otherwise, even through obligations, we will always be able to pick up, take our things, the important objects, survival, and just leave.

god, those words echo through me every second.

all this is just fancy.
all this is just naivety, stupidity, hope through pain of existance. i can't even accept that, now, because it's years of years of theologians, i am so brainwashed, [both ways] i am B, i am antichrist, beatrice come to my side; i wish we were invincible, incredible, i wish we had the voices of gods, [because constance, no matter how, won't speak out like she should] i wish this were inevitable.
there's destruction of something that's inevitable. it's the destruction of my ideals [made from someone else] and then the destruction of this culture as a result of not turning around when it's too late. or it's the destruction of this culture now with the deathrebirth springing open the eyes on everyone; paradigm shift; revolution;
stupidity.

but no matter what you say beatrice whispers to herself i will always beleive in what came before us, i will not beleive in yours. her stubbornness is admirable. she turns a deaf ear and looks only to the east. axeinhand.
even if we'll die doing this, falling apart, i can't sit around and do nothing.

the war has taken second place to the revolution.

:: 2004 10 June :: 8.10 pm

these things.... silly, she's known them all this time. sad that it had to take an outside source to bring them out.
and here, consciousnesstreamingiguess
just keeps coming back to the samething.
/////

if i'm here, will i keep drowning? or just learn to breathe in water?[suchasrek] [sunk at the bottom of the ocean, stone on the chest] [so many levels]

in the jaws of death
the eggs of death, rebirth
the death of rebirth
these things i haven't noticed, these things that are always here... our fear of death is.. unfounded [no, not true] but terrible. why should we be afraid? there won't be any pain afterwards. [why shouldibe? there's no reason for it; everyone's gotta go sometime...] it's not like we're the only ones who die. everything does. why should it even be considered anything special? there's deathlife, laughhate, smilestears, lightdark. feeling guilty. too many here, isn't it crowded.

shut up, already.

:: 2004 9 June :: 11.44 pm

much revolves around the 'three', though it's kind of funny because they're all one in the end anyway.
and regeneration, and rebirth, and death during rebirth and all this kind of crap.
[just waiting for the end of consciousness, really.]
but at least now dreamscaper has her own little symbol in this world.

:: 2004 9 June :: 11.28 am

and what is this 'tierform?' beastform, possible result of.. of.. christ, everything has to have a reason, doesn't it? but we all know rek's claws come out at dangerous instances. she's different than horace � not as psychologically apt to 'death' but still quite physically capable. these claws say, 'stay away'. 'get back'. 'get the fuck out of here'.
and this form... takes... holds.... speaking is hard, if not impossible. sentient thought itself isn't exactly... there. but there's instinct. there's knowing when and how and why without formulating the thoughts, because the answers are already there. the ability to actually see what's in front of your nose.
and the duty to reduce this, reduce these, reduce self.
take out the genes for humanity, the reason for anthropomorphism, and this is what you have.
take out the genes from evolution, and here, we have it, another result hidden so far so fast � hronicdragonchild. goddesses. they don't need answers, because they are answers.
dragons had the world once, in their hands. then they left it to these... creations. with myth and superstition. but still in some.. lies capabilities... the 'new'. the hiddengods don't even know it themselves [save one, who herself wouldn't think to take it upon herself to wake any others]. and if they did, could they change anything....?

:: 2004 9 June :: 11.20 am

so then, what is this?

it's a mixture, the city. [what i wish this world was.] a 'utopia', as it were, but not the perfection everyone [noardols, anyway] seek to make the world into. east coast tribes clustered together; with the coming of noardols, influence made; they were going down the wrong path. but unlike this world, they realized it. they stopped what bad was happening and decided to change things.
no schools, but no one is stupid. [after all, here, there are ones who lack so much not because it's not given to them but because they don't care.] so education only to the ones who'd want it... but life doesn't rely on your education, anyway, so being smart is only if you want to be. no jobs, in the technical sense, but everyone would be obligated to work somehow � but not being overworked. sharing the load so to speak. and yes, there's clan and tribe clashings, but only to keep people in peace.. etc etc. things are reused. people live close together in apartments, but not if they don't want to... there are parks around every corner.... transportation has been altered so there's little to no pollution.... such a far away dream for here, but there, anything is possible. no one can tell me 'it won't work'. because there it's already working.

:: 2004 6 June :: 11.31 pm

come along, this aline.

in the sweet water.

times she'd like to drown herself... watch the bubbles go up as she goes down. but she knows, in the end, she'd just stay at the bottom of the lake or ocean or river, wherever, and end up staring at the sky so far away through all that liquid. besides, those years in the tank... made being in water detestable.

circuitry. [i wonder how to be allowed into this, whether heirarchy or not, making the falseness as a copingmechanism.. hah, mechanism..]

:: 2004 6 June :: 2.01 pm
:: Music: rasputina - the ocean song

there are some times... doubt... and... then nothing. [lifecanneverbethesame]

there was nothing else to tell her what to do or how to live, she thought. this person beside her somehow knew; and it felt ok, it felt somewhat familiar. the idea of it -- seemed like she'd been dreaming it for years asleep; so there was no rejection.
she didn't know who she was. she didn't know where she was or why she was or how she was, even. maybe this obiesance of dreams would solve it.
she crept closer to the candlelit bed, knife in hand. this seemed so right. what she was supposed to do. and then when she looked at the flame, the person behind her, the person in the bed -- something different. she twinged. but that... twinge... if the knife in her hand felt familar, the twinge felt like.... another.. [the person she used to be, she didn't know].
but she had to know who she was, and as far as she knew, this was all she had. so she took the blade brought it up brought it down faster again and again. red ... seeped out, she could see it as black in the candle light. it was on the knife too.
she stepped back. the person behind her, grey, called her quietly. 'we must go.' and the sudden escape felt right, too.

later, she'd see around her. be affected. and remember that what felt right on that particular night wasn't necessarily right to anyone else.

:: 2004 4 June :: 10.16 pm
:: Music: rammstein - klavier

"what, you want death?" horace's voice echoed through the hall.
the boy shivered, the gun still in his mouth. for the first time today, he was starting to question his suicide. the blood spatters on the wall were taunting him now; make a desicion. time to die, or time to live?
jaeger grinned. "can i tell you something?"
the boy made a noise. it sounded something like a muffled 'what'.
"i can see your future." her accent rolled the r's, and she took one step down. her walk, her speech, her glare; all of it was taunting, cynical, sarcastic. "you know what it is?"
he didn't make a sound this time.
"rot. decay. maggots in your flesh. or worms, depending on what happens to you, but some kind of insect, anyway. and then the flesh falls from your bones, and then your bones turn to dust." she took a few steps down the stairs. "your future is dust. just like everything else."
horace laughed. "does he like the concept of death so much now?" his grin seemed taunting.
jaeger paused, looked at the boy. "give me your gun." he complied silently, after a hesitation. she took it in her hands gently, looked at horace, the grin still playing at the corner of her mouth. "well, let's see if he screams when he dies."
there wasn't a second between the end of those words; and her arm swinging out in a subtle arc, a loud noise. he did shreik, just a bit. the gun smoked as he fell backwards.
jaeger looked at him, then at horace again. "well, he's in a better place now."
"what, heaven?"
"no, on the floor."

:: 2004 3 June :: 11.34 pm

a blink, an amazement, such unexpected here. keesha's smiling again for real, and the moon's out -- dancing alone -- anyway. rosewen... seems to have gone to sleep for a long time. the beatings, too much for her. she sleeps through so much... when she's awake, she's avoided, and avoids... even keesha sees so little of her now.
should have lifted her head yesterday, should have just lived through it. but one cannot avoid such bouts of apathy. the occasional rek depression... don't admit this depth you're in, for it won't always be there, won't always be obvious.

dreamscaper subsided for now, though had been bringing up old pasts; forget it, let it go.
and guilt... daishou. don't let this... get to you. you can't look back; they might be friends, but they're behind you. excuses, excuses. what you did was shit. and now, now it's too damn late.
no, come on, head up, come on, don't think about it too much.
but you see, in the future, trying to put these things in the past.

i close my eyes, i see rot; says jaeger. i see flesh and maggots squirming, cutting open a liver and them falling out, a mass of squirming digesting rice. i see these things that feels like they'll never devour me.
but they may, someday, somehow.

:: 2004 2 June :: 11.24 pm

and being there, beatrice pushed aside. keesha looked up at the sky hidden by those tall, tall buildings, and it was so easy to forget about the trees. except, of course, for the trees. but still... somehow, same time, still connected... everything there? made from the planet, somehow or another. perhaps constructed by people, but still... you know. all those people and all that anonymity. and the lack of fear. would it be different at night? probably. but still... able to admire from afar, watching glowing lights made from people, made from the alive, being alive. so much noise and movement.
home seemed so much smaller.
home seemed so much like nothing.

arron's pushing to leave both less and more... that city calls, somehow.

:: 2004 2 June :: 12.07 am

yeah, i fucking remember you. yeah, i remember how you started. and you're still here. you tore a hole in my false whiteness, maybe it was the start of myself, maybe it was the beginning of the end, and you climbed out onto the paper, the false paper, and you. became yourself. and you grew. like i did, as i did, you grew with me. and now.... i can't be angry with you, because that's just what you are.
renting a hole there, bleeding darkness. but it would have happened anyway, anyday. the excuse for everything.
sometimes. you can look at things, and you see their future -- dust. their future is dust. look at these ones next to you, constance uses my eyes like a portal, seeing through and seeing you just like you will be, rotten in the ground, wormfood, burning in the chambers; but not to worry, because this is the future for everyone. her bones? the past. long ago, so long ago. she should have realized this, the future for herself.
for yourself.
for all of us.

when i go, i'm taking this place with me.

:: 2004 1 June :: 11.45 pm

nostalgia..? of the time before gods..?
noo, nonononono. immer vorwartz, schritt um schritt. es geht kein Weg zur�ck.
don't LOOK back. don't even LOOK.

stone statues, holding, worn sand. wearing. remnants of civilization.
[!!!] such is this! such is this, the cry! bring these on your own, you own it, you won it, you ARE it, no?
submission.
release.
don't forget, rosewen, a holder of these lies. you're not, you don't have to be this, as much as they tell you. hypocrisy, you can't escape it. your reasons are dwinding with each acceptance.
somehow, with each torture, with each pushback, each slap in the face, she gives up on it. so don't stop it. you're keeping the virus at bay with this simple, simple, refusal to fuckin accept that this is how you could be.
FUCK NO. [i won't succumb.]

but if these, emotions, opinions, but they're not directly a result of being aware of this, of what happens -- they're just the embodiment [hating this word, it's lessening] of the reaction. action, reaction. death, death, more death, la la la.

this is getting boring, this is just a phase, if i hadn't felt like i was bound to this [verpflichtet] [obligarse] then i could have given up.
god, this shouldn't be so hard.
but, you know what, it's not, it's only when i think it is. so if i stopppp.......................

:: 2004 1 June :: 11.19 am

hronic dragons.... unaptly named.
these, the growth of a mind; unreal. don't pretend otherwise, don't pretend things have to be aligned. these are just allegories.
the beginnings, begattings, things they knew that they won't share. why? if they know it, why won't they tell?
because they cannot speak, they aren't here anymore. their remnants are just that, remnants. vacancies. Die vergessenen G�tter. now, what are they? creators of the planet, of life, who had their reign and have now left for the stars? how many interpretations is that open to? the separation of species, and the likeness of their forms and intelligence. unoriginality.
well, it's all from one place. after all, with the aphrodite and the springing from the forehead of zeus.. what were they alliterating...?

:: 2004 31 May :: 11.59 pm

bea crouched down near the tide pool, kip across from her. the foreign ship landing had, indeed, irked her; but she felt it was more important to teach these people than to let them teach her.
she spoke to kip, asked him questions. the words that constance had told her came to mind, and comforted, reassured. allowed her to continue when doubts arose and she paused in her speech.
she taught this boy about the things she had been shown, she taught this boy about the simplest things that he had always known and yet never really known. just like suzy had, just like she had. she pointed to the organisms in the shallow water, reeking of salt, from this earth, from this nature, from this beauty they were all from. no matter how much they wanted to deny or escape it, or how much they thought they were separate already, the noardols were still in the grasp of nature, in the grasp of evolution, in the grasp of the planet. and she told him this, in so many words. did he accept these words? would he take them back to the faraway land he had come from, let them spread, let the noardish influence die down? could he change things, as she hoped, as she feared, as she may never see? the acceptance of hopelessness, and then the awakening, the realization that burden and control was never on one alone; and yet that still one had to hope to have the power to at least try to change things...?
his eyes, green; the shallow pool seaweed, green. the stone under his feet as black from seawater as his claws. the sand under her hand matched her fur; the seashells, spiraling inward, continuance, echoed her heart. and in both their ears roared softly the ocean, the waves vast and from so far away; like him to her, her to him. hate... hate... hate dissolved from her. she smiled at him, and he wondered at her, the silence between them lengthening.
"there's so much that we can both learn." she reminded herself of constance in this moment. "as long as you keep your heart open."

:: 2004 31 May :: 1.40 pm

'so' then she said 'then that means.... that means that... my anger is unfounded.'
'does it?' a tilted head, soft smile, playful misunderstanding.
'...i suppose. i am just hating, then, for something that... that might be solved by nature anyways. why couldn't i see this before?' beatrice shakes her head. 'and isn't it... nature... there is no such thing? "nature" is just a word created by those poor unfortunate amnesiacs for when they felt higher of, or abandoned by, or anything except what they should have felt.'
constance takes beatrice's chin, turns her face toward her. 'my child, sometimes these realizations can only come in time.'
a sigh. 'so i can just let them burn out...'
'possibly....'
and then, a foundation again. eyes hardening, brow furrows. 'but then wouldn't they take the planet down with them?'
constance nods slowly, regretfully. 'this is also possible.'
a temptation to bury her face in her hands. 'oh, what do i do? what do i do? there is so much at stake here, and so many blinded...'
'do not feel as if it's all upon you... remember, this realization was itself brought upon you by an outside source. this means... come now, beatrice, what does this mean?'
'that it's not really me?'
'not quite, my child.' she takes bea's hands into her own. the enlightener, beatrice thinks, and yet even that term holds... holds a backwash, bad taste. no, not that. just a result of the wrong society.
constance is speaking. 'you're just not alone in this. you never were and you don't have to be.' a soft smile of things already known. all-knowing goddess. a thousand different ways for her to know the future, know the past, and such terms as she does. each realization is dealt from her hand.
and there's so much more to this, so much simplicity here that words can't do justice to.

:: 2004 26 May :: 11.19 pm

i can't forget about this... an order, not a statement. i'll see something [reminder] and there they are. and i'm focusing on other things... this should come naturally. maybe it is, but slight.

anyway, it's possible there's a back to this world, more past the map, more south. makes sense to me; gives more lenience; etc etc reasons, reasons.
feeling guilty for living in reality. every day here, beatrice is.. bea goes... 'this is sickening. krank, krank, krank, krank, krank. this doesn't work, this makes me frustrated. warrior maiden, warmongeress, my name is true; i desire conflict, for conflict, it seems, is the only thing that can bring about change.'
a pause, a change in her eyes. 'and when the floods come, the wars will change as well.'
suzy cries herself to sleep at night, knowing what will happen. sometimes she stays up all night, avoiding prophetic dreams. 'chuza, come' they call her, prophetess, cassandra. terrible how no one beleives it, even with the fiction now, even with it everywhere. it won't happen to us. no, it could happen tomorrow.. and then what would we do...?

:: 2004 25 May :: 12.33 pm

Keep it down already..

You know, I should just give up.

But here I am, creating more. It�s like a hobby. Making these people to replace myself. Rudhyid-Natesa and Chuza-ne-Rajni. Gypsy dancer, blind prophet seer. Written, unwritten, I should cast them off before they become more. Judgement here. Horace, compassionless, Frau by his side, they strike them down. Just more victims. Short lives, long enough for them, but now they are just memories.
Here, it�s too late; when it�s imagined, it�s already happened. Even if it doesn�t make sense. Reality is distorted; but only because she thinks she has a grasp of logic when awake. Dreamscaper.. gives.. nightmares and lovely things, things that should happen, that may happen. Not willing to give up her false prophet identity, she, the more powerful, allows them to go on like this.
She�s just Constance as well. Like the night to her day. Black to her white. Sleep to her wake.