I don't want to talk about it. After the other night, I ended up sitting down with him and asking the sort of questions I wasn't sure I'd get a chance to ask.
The transcript is here, and the fucker didn't leave /anything/ out. Even the stuff I would've preferred to keep quiet.
I'd be rather pissed, except it's kind of nice having him concerned enough to do this crap.
For those of you concerned enough to wonder, yes I'm still miserable, no I'm not going to do anything drastic, and yes I've got the drinking under control, thank you. Also, despite what it sounds like, I'm not deliberately starving myself, I just have no fucking appetite.
I'm fine, really. Just fine.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
You know, sometimes I ask myself.
Elaine, are most Runners this fucking loaded, or is it just your friends? I mean, after Hope and the House and now Benjamin's, a guy's gotta wonder.
So yeah. We're at Ben's place for the holidays. Arrived on the 24th, actually - pretty posh fucking place, I've gotta admit. It was better than motels, anyway. Then again I'd take a cardboard box off the side of the highway instead of hotels at this point as long as it meant I slept in the same place every night.
Anyway.
Never really liked the holidays. Always reminded me of the shit I didn't need and couldn't afford, even if I wanted it. Family lived out-of-province so it wasn't like there was much getting together. Really my best memories of the holidays were the parties in college, and even then I only got two or three of those. Fuckin' great time. You've never been to a Christmas party until somebody spikes the eggnog and they start strobing the red and green lights. Still got a kink in my nose from one of 'em. Woke up covered in blood from the nose down in the middle of a pile of passed-out liberal arts majors. I don't know what was more colourful - my hair, or the carpet after somebody poured food dye into the drinks.
Art colleges are fuckin' weird. Even totally shitfaced they still manage to create masterpieces.
Never managed washed it out of the carpet, either. Not from what I heard. Some dorm in the University of Regina's got a floor like a box of crayons that flew a little too close to the sun because a few fine art students decided to revel in the Christmas spirit.
But I digress.
It's pretty damn hard to top a Christmas like that, but this year wasn't far off. (Not like it had much competition.) Em's got the biggest and most adorable fuckin' grin and you should have seen how she beamed when she opened her presents. Elaine got me a couple things and I managed to provide a few presents of my own. The food was fanfuckingtastic and I can still kind of taste the sweet potatoes a day and a half later.
Two days. Whatever.
Elaine went to try and find the couriers today.
Yesterday. Whatever.
Try's the operative word there. Couldn't find the House and she's a guilt-ridden wreck for it. Gone and locked herself away in her room with some rum and a sad, sad song. Can't really blame her. Feel pretty goddamn responsible for what happened to them, m'self - can't help but wonder if I wasn't around Fitz might've held it together long enough to get it under control.
Okay, maybe I lied about the song. Maybe that's me.
It's something like 3 AM now and I can't really talk myself into sleeping. Instead I've started counting the threads of the sheets under my legs. Playing off this train of thought. Putting down what comes to mind. Got no reason to censor anything, really.
Well, maybe a few things.
But don't we all have dirty little secrets?
46...
47...
Night, blogosphere.
So yeah. We're at Ben's place for the holidays. Arrived on the 24th, actually - pretty posh fucking place, I've gotta admit. It was better than motels, anyway. Then again I'd take a cardboard box off the side of the highway instead of hotels at this point as long as it meant I slept in the same place every night.
Anyway.
Never really liked the holidays. Always reminded me of the shit I didn't need and couldn't afford, even if I wanted it. Family lived out-of-province so it wasn't like there was much getting together. Really my best memories of the holidays were the parties in college, and even then I only got two or three of those. Fuckin' great time. You've never been to a Christmas party until somebody spikes the eggnog and they start strobing the red and green lights. Still got a kink in my nose from one of 'em. Woke up covered in blood from the nose down in the middle of a pile of passed-out liberal arts majors. I don't know what was more colourful - my hair, or the carpet after somebody poured food dye into the drinks.
Art colleges are fuckin' weird. Even totally shitfaced they still manage to create masterpieces.
Never managed washed it out of the carpet, either. Not from what I heard. Some dorm in the University of Regina's got a floor like a box of crayons that flew a little too close to the sun because a few fine art students decided to revel in the Christmas spirit.
But I digress.
It's pretty damn hard to top a Christmas like that, but this year wasn't far off. (Not like it had much competition.) Em's got the biggest and most adorable fuckin' grin and you should have seen how she beamed when she opened her presents. Elaine got me a couple things and I managed to provide a few presents of my own. The food was fanfuckingtastic and I can still kind of taste the sweet potatoes a day and a half later.
Two days. Whatever.
Elaine went to try and find the couriers today.
Yesterday. Whatever.
Try's the operative word there. Couldn't find the House and she's a guilt-ridden wreck for it. Gone and locked herself away in her room with some rum and a sad, sad song. Can't really blame her. Feel pretty goddamn responsible for what happened to them, m'self - can't help but wonder if I wasn't around Fitz might've held it together long enough to get it under control.
It's something like 3 AM now and I can't really talk myself into sleeping. Instead I've started counting the threads of the sheets under my legs. Playing off this train of thought. Putting down what comes to mind. Got no reason to censor anything, really.
Well, maybe a few things.
But don't we all have dirty little secrets?
46...
47...
Night, blogosphere.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Holidays are Fucking Exhauasting
Just posting briefly to say that we've made it to Benjamin's place. The stockings are hung, presents are under the tree, Em's happily asleep in her room after watching Christmas movies till I wanted to scream.
I've never been a big fan of the holidays, but it's nice to see her smiling properly again.
Benjamin's a good host, if you wanna hear about the mundane bullshit, just follow the link to his blog. I'm gonna go fill some stockings, then crash.
Maybe then I won't have to think about everyone that's not here with us.
I've never been a big fan of the holidays, but it's nice to see her smiling properly again.
Benjamin's a good host, if you wanna hear about the mundane bullshit, just follow the link to his blog. I'm gonna go fill some stockings, then crash.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Ominous
Just a quick update from my phone. We're on the road right now, listening to the radio quietly so as to not to wake Em up, when we heard a rather ominous news story. I don't know how many of you keep up with this blog, but after what I just heard... the town they've settled in. Avondale. According to the radio, the entire town went up in flames during the big parade Peter and Rachel have been talking about. No survivors found. Just a lot of bodies.
Bodies all piled up in City hall with their limbs stretched out. In a town home to perhaps one of the oldest slendercults. They thought it was over. The people in town didn't remember much. But the residents were marching in masks tonight. The night of the solstice. Hindsight is a fucking /bitch/. I just have to hope that maybe the fuckers were good enough to get the fuck out of town before shit went down.
It's certainly not looking good, anyway
Bodies all piled up in City hall with their limbs stretched out. In a town home to perhaps one of the oldest slendercults. They thought it was over. The people in town didn't remember much. But the residents were marching in masks tonight. The night of the solstice. Hindsight is a fucking /bitch/. I just have to hope that maybe the fuckers were good enough to get the fuck out of town before shit went down.
It's certainly not looking good, anyway
Thursday, December 22, 2011
More Visits
Something I'd almost forgotten staying still for so long is that Running is dull. A long string of crappy hotel rooms and driving across frozen wastes-because we decided to stay in Canada for a bit instead of risking a border crossing again this soon. It doesn't exactly make much difference, my own preference for warm weather aside. And Elliott seems happier to be back in his own country.
That said, we're almost back to the US now. We're going to be spending Christmas with Benjamin, so Vermontward we go. Again. For a Southern girl like me I spend a damn lot of time in that state. I figure it's a good idea to give poor Em a real Christmas after everything. At least one of us ought to be happy.
In the meantime, we stopped to see David today. It was really good to see him, whatever else he might have done to people, whatever people might think of him, he's practically family, and he's done nothing but try to help me since we met. My hands aren't exactly clean, who the fuck am I to say who is and isn't worth my affection and respect? Anyone who spends the amount of time he does worrying about me and trying to help me is alright in my book.
Plus, Em absolutely fucking adores him, I can tell it did her some good to see him again. She needs to know that not everyone she knew and cared about is gone.
Otherwise, things are quiet. Quiet enough for me to get all philosophical about the Solstice. Yeah, this is going to be one of those posts, shut up and fucking deal with it.
A year ago a bunch of misguided, delusional morons got together with mediocre weaponry and halloween masks and thought they would be able to take down slendershit. The idea wasn't that they'd be able to kill him-from what I understand they all thought they were going to die. Or at least were aware that it was likely.
They thought that by bringing the Stalked together to tell stories about it, we could work together to end this once and for all.
They weren't stupid because they thought it would work, fuck no! As far as I'm concerned it was a brilliant fucking plan, one that was more likely to work than anything anyone's come up with before or since. No, they were delusional morons for thinking that people would remember to tell their stories. Apparently. Look around. Except for a select few, no one bothered to remember. No one bothered to finish the job. A story was never chosen, and those who died at the solstice died in vain, because all of us let them down.
And yet? Because of what they did, look at us now. The bloggers are uniting. Coming together again and again, really interacting. No longer are the Stalked scared children hiding alone in the dark. Whatever happens to us, whatever tragedies befall us individually, we are a community. No longer does each new death go quietly and unmourned. No more do we shiver in silence. We are united, moreso every day, and that is what makes us strong. Maybe one day we'll truly be united enough to end slendershit once and for all.
In the meantime? Lets take today to remember everyone we've lost.
Zero, Amelia, and everyone else that died in the Solstice. Jeff, Nessa, Maduin, Jean, Fizzbomb, and everyone who was left behind to pick up the slack. I salute you all. Your efforts for the Solstice failed because we let you down, but it's because of you we have hope for the future.
Cam, Emma, Star, Konaa, Michael, Josh, Joel, Lucas, Jennifer, Levi, and Adam. I'll never forget any of you. I loved you all like family. I wish I'd been able to save you.
That said, we're almost back to the US now. We're going to be spending Christmas with Benjamin, so Vermontward we go. Again. For a Southern girl like me I spend a damn lot of time in that state. I figure it's a good idea to give poor Em a real Christmas after everything.
In the meantime, we stopped to see David today. It was really good to see him, whatever else he might have done to people, whatever people might think of him, he's practically family, and he's done nothing but try to help me since we met. My hands aren't exactly clean, who the fuck am I to say who is and isn't worth my affection and respect? Anyone who spends the amount of time he does worrying about me and trying to help me is alright in my book.
Plus, Em absolutely fucking adores him, I can tell it did her some good to see him again. She needs to know that not everyone she knew and cared about is gone.
Otherwise, things are quiet. Quiet enough for me to get all philosophical about the Solstice. Yeah, this is going to be one of those posts, shut up and fucking deal with it.
A year ago a bunch of misguided, delusional morons got together with mediocre weaponry and halloween masks and thought they would be able to take down slendershit. The idea wasn't that they'd be able to kill him-from what I understand they all thought they were going to die. Or at least were aware that it was likely.
They thought that by bringing the Stalked together to tell stories about it, we could work together to end this once and for all.
They weren't stupid because they thought it would work, fuck no! As far as I'm concerned it was a brilliant fucking plan, one that was more likely to work than anything anyone's come up with before or since. No, they were delusional morons for thinking that people would remember to tell their stories. Apparently. Look around. Except for a select few, no one bothered to remember. No one bothered to finish the job. A story was never chosen, and those who died at the solstice died in vain, because all of us let them down.
And yet? Because of what they did, look at us now. The bloggers are uniting. Coming together again and again, really interacting. No longer are the Stalked scared children hiding alone in the dark. Whatever happens to us, whatever tragedies befall us individually, we are a community. No longer does each new death go quietly and unmourned. No more do we shiver in silence. We are united, moreso every day, and that is what makes us strong. Maybe one day we'll truly be united enough to end slendershit once and for all.
In the meantime? Lets take today to remember everyone we've lost.
Zero, Amelia, and everyone else that died in the Solstice. Jeff, Nessa, Maduin, Jean, Fizzbomb, and everyone who was left behind to pick up the slack. I salute you all. Your efforts for the Solstice failed because we let you down, but it's because of you we have hope for the future.
Cam, Emma, Star, Konaa, Michael, Josh, Joel, Lucas, Jennifer, Levi, and Adam. I'll never forget any of you. I loved you all like family. I wish I'd been able to save you.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Doing This Shit Out of Order
Right. I owe you all one hell of a post. I'd intended to go through and write about everything that happened since... since I last posted something actually informative. But honestly, I don't really want to write about the time I spent curled up in my bed, not moving for days at a time. I don't want to relive it, and it's really none of your business, you fuckers. The important part is Friday. Last Friday when Elliott came to me and told me that we needed to get out of there, the forest was going too far. To be honest, I'd hardly noticed anything strange, barely looked out the window.
But again, not the point.
The point is, we were in the middle of discussing the need to get out of there-and had just decided to leave first thing in the morning-when a certain redheaded bastard made his appearance. Just leaning nonchalantly against the wall like he had a right to be there. The rotten cunt.
I made the mistake of challenging him. Thought that perhaps out of the forest he'd stand and fight, but no. Instead of facing me like a man he used his Loop bullshit to threaten Elliott. They talked for a bit. In French. All I could understand was some swearing, something about Richard, and something about Harper. Then he threatened Em. In English, so I could understand.
I told Elliott to get out and check on her, which he did. I continued to challenge him, he continued to be a smug, cheating twat. And then he made a mistake. Decided he'd try to get under my skin. Didn't fucking work though, did it? The fucking lying bastard is going to meet his match one of these days and I sincerely hope I'm the one who gets to do the honors. The things he said and did... Well, I will see him pay, one way or another.
Right. On to less ominous business. We're on the road again. Met up with Richard again last night. I didn't stick around to see what happened. He made it pretty clear he didn't want me there. More travelling ahead, I think there's one more place Elliott wants to go.
But again, not the point.
The point is, we were in the middle of discussing the need to get out of there-and had just decided to leave first thing in the morning-when a certain redheaded bastard made his appearance. Just leaning nonchalantly against the wall like he had a right to be there. The rotten cunt.
I made the mistake of challenging him. Thought that perhaps out of the forest he'd stand and fight, but no. Instead of facing me like a man he used his Loop bullshit to threaten Elliott. They talked for a bit. In French. All I could understand was some swearing, something about Richard, and something about Harper. Then he threatened Em. In English, so I could understand.
I told Elliott to get out and check on her, which he did. I continued to challenge him, he continued to be a smug, cheating twat. And then he made a mistake. Decided he'd try to get under my skin. Didn't fucking work though, did it? The fucking lying bastard is going to meet his match one of these days and I sincerely hope I'm the one who gets to do the honors. The things he said and did... Well, I will see him pay, one way or another.
Right. On to less ominous business. We're on the road again. Met up with Richard again last night. I didn't stick around to see what happened. He made it pretty clear he didn't want me there. More travelling ahead, I think there's one more place Elliott wants to go.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Tying up loose ends.
Elliott again.
So, we're spending some time in Canada. No big deal. We really don't have anything better to do with our time- other than, you know, living which we kind of have to do anyway, as being six feet under or in little pieces tends to impede ones driving ability and yeah I'm a little tipsy, drinkign age is 19 here what of it - we really don't have anything better to do with our time and hey, I've got shit to do, Canada it is.
Stayed in my hometown for a couple days. I forgot how much of an utter shithole my family's old apartment was and why I moved out as soon as possible. Place didn't even belong to her anymore. Some old hag with some stupid fucking well-groomed rat she was trying to pass off as a dog - you know the type. The ones with the tiny legs and the massive heads and they shake and shake and yip and shake like windup toys and fuck I'm getting sidetracked again, aren't I - anyway, the place didn't belong to my folks. Surprise surprise. After my bank account had been wiped off the face of the earth and all of my information on every social networking site ever (include myspace, fuck I haven't even thought of the word myspace since 2005) disappeared and all of my friends have stopped answering my calls and the ones who do answer say I'm dead or have no idea who I am, I've kind of stopped being surprise.
Still being bitter, though.
Got one good thing out of it, though. Or as good as it can get when apparently you don't exist - which is a fairly common phenomenon among runners, apparently? Fucked if I know. I'm just a college kid.
Managed to get enough information out of one of my former bandmates to figure out I was buried in some hole-in-the-wall cemetery on the outskirts of the cathedral area. Kinda fuckin' funny if you ask me, seeing as I'm pretty alive and typing and not in some little shit graveyard.
We went. Of course we went. Because I'm a fucking idiot who can't let go of his old life. Because I want closure.
Well I got it, alright. In the form of a one-meter tall slab of stone.
ELLIOTT WIMBLEDON BROODMOOR
1991-2011
Every man's life is a plan of God.
There were sunflowers on the grave.
Sunflowers, half-buried in the fucking snow. Most of them were dead or rotted but there was one, one little head hidden deep inside the others, that was a bright and as cheerful as the day it had been picked. A little ray of sunshine in a dark and dead and rotting world.
And I know who put them there, too.
...
I miss him.
Fuck I miss him.
How goddamn twisted is that? Kid killed for someone's sake. Then again, so did I - so did a lot of us. Something we said we'd never talk about but fuck, what does it matter now? What's done is done. Can't change what's happened.
Anyway.
We're meeting with Rich in a couple nights. Heading to the university and area to tie up the last of the loose ends - not going to be able to stop thinking about it until I do. Closure's a bitch to get sometimes.
Saw that red-haired bastard before we left the House. Writer. That one. Maybe Elaine will write about what happened there, god knows I'm too fucking depressed and too drunk to think about it right now. Words were exchanged, Writer threatened Em, we knew we couldn't stay. We were out less than half an hour later.
Don't die and shit. Updates to come.
So, we're spending some time in Canada. No big deal. We really don't have anything better to do with our time- other than, you know, living which we kind of have to do anyway, as being six feet under or in little pieces tends to impede ones driving ability and yeah I'm a little tipsy, drinkign age is 19 here what of it - we really don't have anything better to do with our time and hey, I've got shit to do, Canada it is.
Stayed in my hometown for a couple days. I forgot how much of an utter shithole my family's old apartment was and why I moved out as soon as possible. Place didn't even belong to her anymore. Some old hag with some stupid fucking well-groomed rat she was trying to pass off as a dog - you know the type. The ones with the tiny legs and the massive heads and they shake and shake and yip and shake like windup toys and fuck I'm getting sidetracked again, aren't I - anyway, the place didn't belong to my folks. Surprise surprise. After my bank account had been wiped off the face of the earth and all of my information on every social networking site ever (include myspace, fuck I haven't even thought of the word myspace since 2005) disappeared and all of my friends have stopped answering my calls and the ones who do answer say I'm dead or have no idea who I am, I've kind of stopped being surprise.
Still being bitter, though.
Got one good thing out of it, though. Or as good as it can get when apparently you don't exist - which is a fairly common phenomenon among runners, apparently? Fucked if I know. I'm just a college kid.
Managed to get enough information out of one of my former bandmates to figure out I was buried in some hole-in-the-wall cemetery on the outskirts of the cathedral area. Kinda fuckin' funny if you ask me, seeing as I'm pretty alive and typing and not in some little shit graveyard.
We went. Of course we went. Because I'm a fucking idiot who can't let go of his old life. Because I want closure.
Well I got it, alright. In the form of a one-meter tall slab of stone.
ELLIOTT WIMBLEDON BROODMOOR
1991-2011
Every man's life is a plan of God.
There were sunflowers on the grave.
Sunflowers, half-buried in the fucking snow. Most of them were dead or rotted but there was one, one little head hidden deep inside the others, that was a bright and as cheerful as the day it had been picked. A little ray of sunshine in a dark and dead and rotting world.
And I know who put them there, too.
...
I miss him.
Fuck I miss him.
How goddamn twisted is that? Kid killed for someone's sake. Then again, so did I - so did a lot of us. Something we said we'd never talk about but fuck, what does it matter now? What's done is done. Can't change what's happened.
Anyway.
We're meeting with Rich in a couple nights. Heading to the university and area to tie up the last of the loose ends - not going to be able to stop thinking about it until I do. Closure's a bitch to get sometimes.
Saw that red-haired bastard before we left the House. Writer. That one. Maybe Elaine will write about what happened there, god knows I'm too fucking depressed and too drunk to think about it right now. Words were exchanged, Writer threatened Em, we knew we couldn't stay. We were out less than half an hour later.
Don't die and shit. Updates to come.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Apologies and Eulogies
Well, it's Elaine again. I'm still alive, I'm doing just fine, and back more or less to normal.
I really just want to start all of this off by apologizing for a certain stupid thing I did. It was selfish of me to try to remove myself from all of this without thinking about those of you I'd be leaving behind. Most of you I've talked to one way or another to apologize to more directly, but I feel like I should say something here. According to Blogger, a lot of people read this fucking blog. Probably at least some of you are looking for guidance, just like I was, back when I started. I don't want my story to end with such a cop-out.
All of you reading this deserve more from me, and honestly, I don't really feel like giving up yet. There's a lot of fighting left for me to do before I get my rest, and I intend to make slendershit crazy trying to take me out.
It was just grief. Grief for everyone we've lost recently. Starting with the fall of Hope, I lost eight of the people nearest and dearest to me over the course of a week. As I've said in the past, I'm nothing fancy with words or feelings, but I feel like I ought to say something for everyone that's gone.
The Johnsons. Their blood is directly on my hands. The family came to Hope because it was the only chance they had left. When they arrived they'd lost everything but each other, and were managing to hold strong and raise their daughter well.
But they had too much faith in me. They said the safest place in the world for them was at my side, in Hope, even without special protection. Jennifer, Levi, and poor little Adam. They were a loving, close knit family, and they deserved better than what they got. Elliott and I are taking care of their daughter. Emily is only six, but she's amazing. I hope we can raise her right and keep her safe.
Michael. Or perhaps I should call him Nemo? He were more himself before he took his name back. He was a dear friend to me, even when he was going mad. Down underneath the protective layer of douchebaggery was the kind and thoughtful man I came to know when he first came to Hope. I miss him a lot, and I will always regret that I couldn't help him when he came to me in the end.
Konaa. He was a hell of a brave, crazy kid. No, man. I called him a kid, but his actions proved himself to be one hell of a good man. He was another of the best of us. Noble, tenacious, kind. He never gave a crap about himself, he was always fighting for us. He never killed, never even harmed anyone unless he absolutely had to. He was a good friend and a good man. He will be missed by all. He died as he lived-standing for what he believed in.
Lucas. He was by far one of the best, kindest men I've ever had the good fortune to know. He helped me through a lot of shit right until the end. He was also the first other Stalked I really got in touch with when shit hit the fan, which made him... one of my oldest friends. The world has lost something, losing him.
Joel. He and I were close as well. Lucas and Joel were, for a while, a bright shiny example of true love in the face of adversity. Then he was taken by his Wolf. But he refused to give up. He fought his way back out for the man he loved. He shouldn't be remembered by his final actions, but as a man who did anything and everything to protect the man he loved.
Josh. He was a hell of a kid. Would've really been somebody if he'd gotten a chance to grow up and actually do things, instead of run from a faceless fuck in a suit. I didn't get to know him quite as well as the others, but I knew him well enough to miss him now.
I'll try to get something up in the next few days talking about what's been going on with me.
I really just want to start all of this off by apologizing for a certain stupid thing I did. It was selfish of me to try to remove myself from all of this without thinking about those of you I'd be leaving behind. Most of you I've talked to one way or another to apologize to more directly, but I feel like I should say something here. According to Blogger, a lot of people read this fucking blog. Probably at least some of you are looking for guidance, just like I was, back when I started. I don't want my story to end with such a cop-out.
All of you reading this deserve more from me, and honestly, I don't really feel like giving up yet. There's a lot of fighting left for me to do before I get my rest, and I intend to make slendershit crazy trying to take me out.
It was just grief. Grief for everyone we've lost recently. Starting with the fall of Hope, I lost eight of the people nearest and dearest to me over the course of a week. As I've said in the past, I'm nothing fancy with words or feelings, but I feel like I ought to say something for everyone that's gone.
The Johnsons. Their blood is directly on my hands. The family came to Hope because it was the only chance they had left. When they arrived they'd lost everything but each other, and were managing to hold strong and raise their daughter well.
But they had too much faith in me. They said the safest place in the world for them was at my side, in Hope, even without special protection. Jennifer, Levi, and poor little Adam. They were a loving, close knit family, and they deserved better than what they got. Elliott and I are taking care of their daughter. Emily is only six, but she's amazing. I hope we can raise her right and keep her safe.
Michael. Or perhaps I should call him Nemo? He were more himself before he took his name back. He was a dear friend to me, even when he was going mad. Down underneath the protective layer of douchebaggery was the kind and thoughtful man I came to know when he first came to Hope. I miss him a lot, and I will always regret that I couldn't help him when he came to me in the end.
Konaa. He was a hell of a brave, crazy kid. No, man. I called him a kid, but his actions proved himself to be one hell of a good man. He was another of the best of us. Noble, tenacious, kind. He never gave a crap about himself, he was always fighting for us. He never killed, never even harmed anyone unless he absolutely had to. He was a good friend and a good man. He will be missed by all. He died as he lived-standing for what he believed in.
Lucas. He was by far one of the best, kindest men I've ever had the good fortune to know. He helped me through a lot of shit right until the end. He was also the first other Stalked I really got in touch with when shit hit the fan, which made him... one of my oldest friends. The world has lost something, losing him.
Joel. He and I were close as well. Lucas and Joel were, for a while, a bright shiny example of true love in the face of adversity. Then he was taken by his Wolf. But he refused to give up. He fought his way back out for the man he loved. He shouldn't be remembered by his final actions, but as a man who did anything and everything to protect the man he loved.
Josh. He was a hell of a kid. Would've really been somebody if he'd gotten a chance to grow up and actually do things, instead of run from a faceless fuck in a suit. I didn't get to know him quite as well as the others, but I knew him well enough to miss him now.
I'll try to get something up in the next few days talking about what's been going on with me.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Silence at last.
Staying at a hotel, the location of which I'm in no mood to give out. Already had to deal with a couple of tails on the way here. Last thing we need is another unwelcome surprise.
Always kind of liked hotel hopping. When I left the house to attend uni I spent a couple days moving from place to place, trying to find somewhere to settle. It was Zach who eventually got me a place near the school, actually. Kid always had resources. Knew people. Enough people to make you wonder.
Still kind of wonder.
Anyway.
Here's a little tip: Douglas Coupland had it right. Next time you stay at a hotel with rooms that have those big armoires that hold the TV, (most chains will have them - Holiday Inn, Comfort Inn, Super 8) climb up and feel around on the top. Housecleaning'll often miss that spot and people will dump anything they don't like there. Nasty, compromising stuff. Gifts people didn't want. Stuff they couldn't get rid of in case management or something found it. Tacky jewellery. Airport books you don't want to keep. Porn - and I mean the really, really dirty stuff. Drugs. Weapons. You name it, you'll probably find it up there. Found an abandoned hard drive once. Brought it to Alex. Guy spent a week going through security measures just to open the wrong file and watch the entire thing wipe itself and his computer completely blank.
Still kind of wonder.
Anyway.
Try it out. You'd be surprised at what you find. People are into some weird shit.
As I said earlier, we're out. Nothing new to report other than that. Head's quiet, Elaine's still a mess, Em's quiet and sad and I'm bouncing between them as best I can. August, I respect you. How you can deal with stuff like this all the time and keep going is a fuckin' amazing gift.
Don't think I know where we're headed to next. Probably just going to travel for a while. I've got... business to take care of north of the border and think that might be where we're headed next. Though how a missing person, an ex-convict and a somebody who doesn't technically exist will manage to cross the border is beyond me. I guess we'll have to figure something out.
I have to admit, I kind of miss Canada. Culture shock's fuckin' weird. I don't think I can respect a country where the only Tim Horton's lie 150 miles from the border and all of their money is the same colour. Just feels strange.
Uncanny.
We'll see. Stay safe and all that.
Always kind of liked hotel hopping. When I left the house to attend uni I spent a couple days moving from place to place, trying to find somewhere to settle. It was Zach who eventually got me a place near the school, actually. Kid always had resources. Knew people. Enough people to make you wonder.
Still kind of wonder.
Anyway.
Here's a little tip: Douglas Coupland had it right. Next time you stay at a hotel with rooms that have those big armoires that hold the TV, (most chains will have them - Holiday Inn, Comfort Inn, Super 8) climb up and feel around on the top. Housecleaning'll often miss that spot and people will dump anything they don't like there. Nasty, compromising stuff. Gifts people didn't want. Stuff they couldn't get rid of in case management or something found it. Tacky jewellery. Airport books you don't want to keep. Porn - and I mean the really, really dirty stuff. Drugs. Weapons. You name it, you'll probably find it up there. Found an abandoned hard drive once. Brought it to Alex. Guy spent a week going through security measures just to open the wrong file and watch the entire thing wipe itself and his computer completely blank.
Still kind of wonder.
Anyway.
Try it out. You'd be surprised at what you find. People are into some weird shit.
As I said earlier, we're out. Nothing new to report other than that. Head's quiet, Elaine's still a mess, Em's quiet and sad and I'm bouncing between them as best I can. August, I respect you. How you can deal with stuff like this all the time and keep going is a fuckin' amazing gift.
Don't think I know where we're headed to next. Probably just going to travel for a while. I've got... business to take care of north of the border and think that might be where we're headed next. Though how a missing person, an ex-convict and a somebody who doesn't technically exist will manage to cross the border is beyond me. I guess we'll have to figure something out.
I have to admit, I kind of miss Canada. Culture shock's fuckin' weird. I don't think I can respect a country where the only Tim Horton's lie 150 miles from the border and all of their money is the same colour. Just feels strange.
Uncanny.
We'll see. Stay safe and all that.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
This House is insane.
Fuck. Fuck. Been in this place maybe a week and my head won't stop screaming at me.
Konaa's dead. Lucas is dead. Joel's dead. And so many others. People I've only read in passing. People I've only talked to once or twice. Michael. Josh. Why always the holidays?
Rest in peace. All of you. Konaa - no, June. June, you brave son of a bitch. I was going to tell you before you left that if you died before I could repay you I was going to be pissed. Guess now it's too late. Joel, what little time I spent with you was great. So, thanks for that. Lucas... everything I've heard about you tells me you were a great person. I wish we could have talked more than the passing 'hey's that we did. Everybody else... you fought the good fight - but everybody's gotta go eventually. Guess you can consider this my last respects.
shutupshutupshutupshutup
This is getting ridiculous. It's one thing to stare at the wall of foliage from the safety of a guest room, advancing inch by inch as the days pass by. It's another thing to wake up with your window shattered and about five trees eagerly clawing at your doors, bedposts and closet.
It was a fun morning.
Talked to Fitz - afterall, he's already talked about it once. Apparently we can't escape that damn forest. Even when we're out, we're still not out. It's still a shadow in the back of our minds. A shadow that screams and pulls at nerve endings and calls to you in the dead of the night and no, Broodmoor, you're not listening to it because that's the stupidest fucking idea you've ever had but fuck, it's siren's song and there's only so many times you can get talked down from it before it just. Stops. Working.
Alex is looking better, at least. But the kid's quieter than ever - I don't blame him, though. This place is doing horrible things to me so I'd hate to see what's happening in his head. But with him in Rivers' care I know there isn't much I can do.
Going to talk to Elaine about leaving tomorrow. Don't know how much longer I can stay here.
Konaa's dead. Lucas is dead. Joel's dead. And so many others. People I've only read in passing. People I've only talked to once or twice. Michael. Josh. Why always the holidays?
Rest in peace. All of you. Konaa - no, June. June, you brave son of a bitch. I was going to tell you before you left that if you died before I could repay you I was going to be pissed. Guess now it's too late. Joel, what little time I spent with you was great. So, thanks for that. Lucas... everything I've heard about you tells me you were a great person. I wish we could have talked more than the passing 'hey's that we did. Everybody else... you fought the good fight - but everybody's gotta go eventually. Guess you can consider this my last respects.
shutupshutupshutupshutup
This is getting ridiculous. It's one thing to stare at the wall of foliage from the safety of a guest room, advancing inch by inch as the days pass by. It's another thing to wake up with your window shattered and about five trees eagerly clawing at your doors, bedposts and closet.
It was a fun morning.
Talked to Fitz - afterall, he's already talked about it once. Apparently we can't escape that damn forest. Even when we're out, we're still not out. It's still a shadow in the back of our minds. A shadow that screams and pulls at nerve endings and calls to you in the dead of the night and no, Broodmoor, you're not listening to it because that's the stupidest fucking idea you've ever had but fuck, it's siren's song and there's only so many times you can get talked down from it before it just. Stops. Working.
Alex is looking better, at least. But the kid's quieter than ever - I don't blame him, though. This place is doing horrible things to me so I'd hate to see what's happening in his head. But with him in Rivers' care I know there isn't much I can do.
Going to talk to Elaine about leaving tomorrow. Don't know how much longer I can stay here.
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