Friday, December 30, 2011

Tomorrow is New Years Eve.

I've been invited to a party.

Normally I would not accecpt such an invitation, Especially when the sender could be one of my mortal enemies (Writer) but I have faith in his honesty. 

I think I shall go, and wear my finest dress.

Besides, how else could I see ember and the others, the ones I want to see?

And its supposedly in a "Loop" or something so it should be  okay as long as those are real.

Monday, December 26, 2011

Capo II

 I started in my seat as I felt a hand on each shoulder, pushing me gently but firmly back into my chair. The two men who searched me.

Capo chuckled at my discomfort. I could have bluffed if I hadn't broke character damn it damn it...

Frank was shattered, all around me, leaving Rachael exposed. I was alone. I was unarmed.

"You are wondering how I knew, I assume?"

I said nothing.


Maurice talking to Rachael in the parking lot outside High School. It had been a bad day at play practice. Rachael had to ask for the script too many times. Had forgotten her lines one too many times. Maurice crouched down next to her, smiles and said: "Sometimes when you forget your lines...just go with the flow. Improvise. It'll work itself out."


"Frank has not been seen anywhere for the last twelve years. When I did a little research, it was easy to see he had never existed. Not even as a dead man. The police would not try something like this. They know better than to whip up someone out of nothing. So it was something else. Someone else."

He smirked as he sipped at his wine. "You think I am a fool, you think I am some comic-book villian like the others? No, I am a Capo first, an Agent second and it is why in a city with men like Eternity I am allowed to live. I am an Earner. I feed this organization, I keep us armed. I keep the police off our backs and give us the cover that we need. I check everything. It took me a day to realize my old commrade was dead. Why would you kill him? Why would an inside kill him? Because they are a loose cannon acting alone."

I shifted. Not nervous, not yet. I had obviously underestimated this man. But if he kept talking, my opening would come. He was a monologuer. I'd let him go until he stopped.

"That left us with a few options, and left me to search for a modus operandi. Two dead people in my organization, slowly moving up the scale. Both killed by knives. The first operating near the Chelsea district. This lead me to investigate gangs, but of course the m13 and the Kings are busy with each other right now, the Italians are too underground to bother with us and those Eastern Europe fucks are too busy fighting the bloods over crack these days to give a fuck. No, this was someone who knew what we really were. Runners, then. But who would be enough of a monster to mutilate a man where it hurts? He had a family, by the way. A son. Just turned ten."

I wouldn't let him worm his way into me. I wouldn't-

"And so we narrowed our search. And found out about a rouge proxy who operated in that area, preferred our side of the bay, and had recently switched sides." Capo's shit eating grin stretched all across his face. "Really, Rachael. Tom Waits is rather overrated."

He leaned back in his chair. "So now, I am left to wonder about you. Why did no organization recruit you? Is it because of your insanity, or because of how useless you are? Or perhaps it is becaus eof what really happened that night twelve years ago, mmm?"

"Shut up you don't know about that."

"Ahh, but I read the reports myself. I have a man in the department. Interesting stuff. But I am not a cruel man. What do you have to say for yourself?"

The men slowly drew lethal looking pistols, their other hand still holding me into the chair. Keeping me there. Trapped.

I looked at Capo. Not as myself. As a femme fatale. Walking trouble. TheMobMollThe nine inch heels the cigarette holder leaking smoke. The cherry lips. "what a quaint little resturaunt. Are these windows bulletproof?"

Capo laughed. "What a bizzare question, my dear."

"Well, you see, darling, I've been driving around town shooting at all the M13 boys cars with the vehicle parked right out front. Mmm, and ah miiiiiiiiiiight have shot up the Latin Kings' crack den before coming here. Just to even things out."

The blood drained from Capo's face. Suddenly, he realized my plan. I hadn't planned on killing him myself. My plan was to drag his little empire into a war with the other gangs of Union City. What better way to fight the proxy organization than to crush it against people who were just as bad?

"Kill her, kill her now. We can't have them know she was here."

The gentlemen went for their guns as the first shots broke the glass.

I reached into my pants and from right up against my crotch I pulled out my switchblade- who feels up a man there, and who suspects the buldge to be anything else?

I sliced the arm of the first man in the panic, causing him to drop his gun. I dove for it as the bullets began to fill the room. I fired at the second and began to run for it. I got clipped twice, once in the side, grazing me, knocking me over. the other in the arm. Idropped Maurice's knife. It was left in the fight, but I made it out the back.

I tossed off the suitcoat. Let my arm breathe. breathe, breathe. shot the next man to come through the door and started to run. I stole one of their cars and drove.


My home is on fire. it's not safe for me to be here now  i have nothing left

but hate and a desire to end this

I'm leaving the city I do not know where I am going

i still dont feel better

Thursday, December 22, 2011

I don't have time to write up Capo right now. Understanding will come in time.

Yesterday and today are important. A man stood up with a select few and fell.

I remember reading that post as Maurice and fuming.

I was livid at the stupidity. I was so angry.

I hated him. I hated how dumb, how people loved him, how he thought he would be Jesus.

For weeks, for months, this idea burnt at me, gnawed at me.

And then Zero came back.

That was when I knew I needed to blog, to taunt him taunt all the dumb runners and neurotic fighters.

Until I remembered who I was, and had the courage to become myself again.

Zero may not have saved anyone. He may have damned himself and killed so many people for no reason.

But Zero gave me redemption.

I wonder if he'd laugh.

I don't know. But I do know how important Solstice was.

Remember Zero.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011


Today I finally went to meet with Capo.

 Not as Rachael of course. Rachael is not someone I wish to expose to him. To them.

My identity is fragile enough I do not wish to become a target in this war.


Frank Russo is not young anymore. He's in his 30's, now. Some would call him a punk but he's a calculating man. Frank knew that a man like him, someone who has been thrown out of school for cheating and violence had few options. To get ahead, his only option was to go underground.  Frank was on a prolific spree of crimes of all sorts years ago but went dark as the heat got harder on him.

Frank still has some contacts in the city, enough to get him into the hearing of a crime boss turned agent. Capo could use a man with as few scruples as Frank for jobs he does not wish to associate himself with. Frank's record is good, and the cities lawmen have long forgotten about him. Especially out in Union City, a city with more people per mile than Manhattan. History chokes on the new bodies every day.

I figured I might as well use one of Maurice's from back in the day. I could not simply waltz into Capo's workplace the way I did to Tony. This plan would take finesse, planning.

Frank had a meeting. He was no barbarian. An old ally of Capo (now dead, though no one knew yet) had set up the meeting for a cash offering from his lovely sister, worried about her brothers recent involvement with the Eastern Europeans.

Frank strolled into the meeting. He was searched for weapons, and none were found. My breasts were bound, my hair in a slick ponytail, dyed black. I wore a black leather jacket with a black button down, and black slacks. formal, but not in a cowtowing way. Frank had respect for Capo, and for himself.

Capo was waiting for me inside a small restaurant, far from the famous new high rises. The rehab of Union City had not reached this part of town yet. The lights were low, lit only by overhead fixtures even on a sunny afternoon like this.

Capo struck me as the sort of man who could gain weight in his line of work. The kind of man who grew fat, not out of gluttony or greed, but out of the lack of fear. A man who could go gray, not from stress, but from aging into a violent lifetime. He was a man who had found himself a place in this world and believed himself capable of holding himself exactly there. He seemed the kind of man with no ambition, but no sloth. A man who would excel at keeping an organization like this together. But not the leader, never the leader.

A challenging opponent, perhaps. But I was confident in my disguise and my secret weapon. I was immersed in my role. I had plans, machinations.

He waved me lazily with one hand and a coy half grin.   On either side of him, two gentlemen in suits, in addition to the two that had welcomed me.

"Welcome, welcome. Please, have a seat. Wine?"

I sat down in the proffered chair, but politely refused his offer for wine. Frank never drank when there was business. Capo crossed his hands and leaned forward.

"Come now, Rachael, I've never known you to turn down a man before."

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Because I could not stop for death/he kindly stopped for me

I've been going through his closet, and trying on his clothes. I put them back and close the door.


A knock on my door nights ago.

The man called "Van Helsing", the Brian no more was at my doorstep.

The overweight hulk with his face his eyes under the fucking fedora and the fucking leather jacket who does he think he is fucking neo or somethin? Bullshit. Fucking Bullshit. Fuck fhcuk fuck fuclk=ing bullshit! I

"Rachael, open the door." he said, his voice the same if deeper and sadder.

My eyes widened. Did he remember? How much did he remember? Did he...

"Fuck you Hellsing! Go away." There's no way. He couldn't have. He's dead. He was a shell of a man.


"What?" I tore the door open "What is it? You remember my name now?"

"Rachael..." There were tears in his fat fucking eyes, like he was struggling with something long ignored, long forgotten. "I, I know you."

"Of course you do you fat fuck, you know me. YOU KNEW ME!" i  looked into his face and Brian looked into the eyes of his lover his wife

and he ran into the night like a squirrel hunted by a hawk not seen but sensed in the sky far above.

Rachael sank to the floor of her doorway and she wept for hours until there were no more tears. She wept for Konaa, for Schrodinger, for Maurice and for Brian, and Rachael. 

When the tears were gone she  curled up in his closet with Maurice's swtichblade and flicked it in and out, staring at the blade. she disrobed and looked at herself in his mirror, staring at the cuts all along her arms, her legs, her sides.

she went through Brian's closet and tried on all of his clothes. She wore them and smelt them

even after all these years he still smells the same


Tuesday, December 13, 2011

In the end we all face a curtain. Whether it be the last glimpses of family members over the hospital bed, or the crash of an explosion or the flash of a gun muzzle. The Curtain is important. Unless it gets drawn the shows not over. It'll just keep going even if the audience starts clapping.

 So many closed plays, so many ended tales. Some the average actor will have never heard of. The same tales over and over again like vaudville playing every night same act different towns and no one even knows.

I'm done with the Vaudeville. I won't be held down by petty allegiances and constraints. I've heard horrors from both sides of the line. And theres so many tragedies. So many neverending stories. I'm gonna close 'em.

Police are looking for the presumed killer. They think its Triads. Apparently Wallace had some gang connections. Perhaps this will lead us to Capo?

Setting the scene is important, I believe. I am working on it.

i think im being followed

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Her name is Roxxy

Roxxy wasn't the name she was born with. She was born Rhea Anne Stanson. Her parents tried to get her to go to college but she rebelled, dropped out and got mixed in with the wrong crowd. She found her way to the big city and began to live the "Glamorous" lifestyle.

 She dyed her hair.

Changed Her name to "Roxxy"
She developed a penchant for bad boys, started doing coke and drinking every night. Eventually, she found her way to one particular club.

Perhaps our male friend will run into her. Maybe she'll get close to him.

Roxxy is someone I've been Before.

Maurice trained me to be able to shift personas. He taught me to live into my roles, no matter how small. Play the part, be the part. I was Roxxy, or a woman like her, for over a week at his urging.

Slipping into her again is not so difficult.

She is sort of like me in a way. We both are running from past failure. We both drowned ourselves in a fake, superficial life. Roxxy just hasn't found herself yet, hasn't found her purpose yet. She thinks she can find it in a man's arms and feels the slow creep of age upon her.

Roxxy and I are not so different.

I followed our unknown hunter to his club of choice tonight. A place called Libation. I stepped back and let Roxxy take over. Roxxy walked into the club, slipped up to the bar, giggled at a man who bought her the first drink and stepped out onto the floor, losing him. Roxxy didn't care. Men were things to work around to Roxxy. She knew them well, and found her target.

The man with the buzzcut across the room, already chatting up two drunk college girls. He liked them young.

Challenging, but not impossible.

Roxxy strode to him, showing off her curves in the dress that covered my scars oh so well, makeup hiding the rest. Roxxy pulled him to his feet and purred into his face. He was uncertain, but excited. Classic hunter, unable to react quickly to a change in his plans.

Roxxy ground against him slowly, whispering sensuously into his ear.

 Roxxy ran her hand down his chest. He quivered. "I'm Roxxy" she purred into his ear.

"Tony. That's my name"

He was high as balls. Perfect. Roxxy knew that cocaine users have a higher sex drive. He wouldn't even need to know any more about me. Just that he wanted me. Wanted Roxxy.

She led him outside before long. He did a line of coke in his car while Roxxy rubbed his back. Thankfully he didn't offer me any. I had been drinking the whole time, and acting as though I was giggly, falling down drunk, but still so desirous of this monster.

Finally it was time. He began to undress Roxxy, Roxxy began to undress him. Roxxy pushed him down, gently, poised herself above him, and smiled.


Do you know what the Rape-aXe is?

It is an anti-rape device designed by a South African woman. It works like a condom, only the woman puts it...inside herself.However it is more than a condom. A Rape-aXe condom has sharp, sharp barbs on the inside. sort of like teeth.

They dig in, and cannot be removed except for by surgery.



I tied his coked out hands behind him and thrusted.  He screamed in agony, a wail unlike anything I've ever heard before.

"Okay Tony, this is how its going to fucking work. You tell me what I need ta know and this stops faster, got it?"

He screamed and cried. A man who fought and killed for a living, no man really, could withstand this pain. Brian had always taught me to attack here. "It's the one thing that controls all guys, you know." He said once, laughing.

I had pulled him out of me, finally, leaving the sheath of blades on him. I couldnt really remove it, except for by force. So I began to pull it.


"T-tony Monta-"

"No, your name, Proxy. Name!"

"I-I'm Wallace."

"Alright Wally. Listen here. I want you to tell me everyone you've been hunting. Now."

I pulled, he screamed and spilled a list of names. Many names. Tony here is a busy boy.

"I need to know your superior's name. Now."

He was sobbing, crying. "His name is Capo. He's based out of Union City I-"


and the rest went on from there. I killed him after. I'm no monster.

My next step will be Capo. I'm...

I haven't had a man touch me in that way in years.

Having that power, the violence

it feels good.

Better than the mutilation. Better than the doubt. There is something real in killing.

And if I'm left to clean up the stage

I will strike the set.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

And we're back.

One night Maurice took me aside and handed me a pile of clothing

"Listen here dollface. A disguise isn't about what you are wearing or how you sound or any of that shit. A disguise is about acting. Have a character in mind. Change your clothing, your hair. Match that role. Act Your Part!"


It's gotten cold so fast.

I've taken to creeping around the city, as one person, than another. Even those who saw me, once upon a time, would recognize me no longer.

I dyed my hair in a Texaco bathroom. I stared into the mirror in the flickering light for a long time.

Blonde Hair. Blue Eyes. Even  a-a wave to my hair now.

I stared into my eyes, now someone elses. It was...unfamiliar. I've been struggling with self for so long. I've not known who I am not had a purpose.

But now, under it all, I'm starting to see me.

I've been tailing this guy. One of the Masked. An Actor. like me.

A family man, goes out during the day, stalks and hunts. Hires hookers, drinks, goes home to his loving family.

I have a plan in motion

Let us see what I can do.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Last night

there was a man outside my apartment

watching, waiting, I watched him. He was not familiar.

The light at the end of my block, the streetlight, turned red

a car was stopped. I could see a woman, in the back a little girl.

The man walked up to the car, broke the window. The flash of dark metal, a gun.

 I grabbed Maurice's knives

ran for the man.

He saw me fired

grazed my arm but I did not stop

and stabbed

The woman fled with her daughter

frightened but I hope, also thankful.

I left him where he lay, cleaned my knife.

No one talks in this neighboorhood

and what beat officer believes a frail woman capable?

they never knew, never expected. Maurice for all his faults taught me one thing

lies and vaudville.

I should feel bad but the pain has leveled me, in a way self-infliction could not.

I'm steady, I'm in control.

For the first time in a long time.

Rachael is done being a plaything, a toy.

Perhaps it is time to stirke back.

Perhaps it is time to make a difference.

Perhaps it is time

to take control.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

So now you know most of the story.

In Maurice's  attempt to confuse HIM with a masquerade of identities we all lost ourselves.

We were all broken

But yet I remain.

What do I do now? Who am I to become, now that all of this has come to light?

things I had forgotten did not want to remember

living as a trouphy a plaything

and then

I don't know

For a week I contemplated the handgun brian left behind

For a week I stared at the liquor Maurice left behind, thinking wondering but rejecting. Drink ruined too many people, people I used to love

And now I am waiting for a sign

from something


i miss them

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

And Time passed.

Even in a world where nothign can be counted on, even in a world with THAT time will always pass, slip away

Brian became obsessed with a plan of his own.

"If He is real,  shouldn't there be other creatures? All we'd have to do is make them fight, and we'd be forgotten."

Brian perched over his copy of The King In Yellow for hours. He claimed he bought it from a shop in Harlem but I was never quite sure. He had plans and withdrew from all of us from me. He slept alone, as did I

Rachael held back, and Maurice slowly filled the gaps like adhesive

Rachael could not resist him. Who could? He was a conqueror.

I fled, he followed and claimed

and one night

one night things were different. Brian was out, doing god knows what when Maurice returned. Maurice screamed and raged and grabbed and hit and

I described this once. I won't again. 

When I could, I got up, cleaned up, and waited for Brian.

 I guess I just never stopped waiting


I'm done telling the story. I won't speak any more of the past.


there is one last thing that needs to be said

one night, over a year ago, in the bar

Brian was ther

but he had forgotten me

and everything, was warped

it was better I decided, to let him live, and never know

I've shown him to you, once before.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

''I will be as harsh as truth and as uncompromising as justice. On this subject, I do not wish to speak, or think, or write with moderation. I am in earnest. I will not equivocate, I will not excuse, I will not retreat a single inch, and I will be heard."

Sunday, November 6, 2011

I cant stop coughing its not him though

Its just cold.

And its only going to get colder

forget this. He remembers. He has to remember.

I want that warmth again, no matter the cost. He's alive. He just doesn't remember me.


His hands on my shoulders. "Don't put all your eggs in one basket, darling. Knife fighting isn't some fancy art. It's stabbing before you get stabbed. You're going to get your pretty flesh cut if'n you stay in a fight for too long. Cut first, and you get to cut last."

Maurice showed me his knives. A switchblade as long as my hand. a knife as wide as my wrist. My heart raced. Fear or excitement? I don't know.

" Y-you hurt people with these?"

Maurice smiled. Not his warm smile the one that heated my whole body, but the sick smile of a dying man.

"No. These are for me."


One night brian started shouting at Maurice screaming about he was endangering all of us, how it was his fault. Maurice couldn't respond, only to shake his head and stare at him and finally Brian and Maurice held each other and they

somethings are private.



They had a plan. I heard them like I had heard them all night.

"She's our priority. We protect her."

"I'm not going to do it your way. We can't all be you, you fucking-"

"I know. You do it your way and I'll do mine."

"There has to be a better way."

Maurice laughed. "There isn't."
It had been years. Maybe not years. A long time. Maurice had been gone. No word, no letters. Nothing. We didn't know if he was alive or dead. Brian loved me.

not like Maurice

But we were happy. content. we made do.

We worked, we slept, we kissed.

A peace came over our lives. a stillness, a slow death

And then one night our door burst open and he strode back into our lives

he collapsed in the doorway.

Maurice. Grizzled, looking older, more wild. Magnificent.

Brian held me, tightly by the shoulders.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shut the door hurry! Don't ask questions I'll explain everything just do it!"

I shut the door. Maurice pulled himself up and staggered into our tiny kitchen,grabbing me for support. Brian watched.

"Babydoll, you haven't changed a bit." he smiled, weakly looking into me. Parts long dormant were waking. Warming.

"He treat you good?"

"Y-yes. Brian has"

"Great, great." Maurice sagged into the chair. Only then did I realize he was bleeding.

Brian finally opened his mouth. "How did you find us, why are you here."

Maurice grinned as he began removing his clothing, exposing the huge cut. "Have I got a story for you, big guy." he laughed, a laugh that I had never heard from him before. A weak, hysterical laugh.

Maurice began to tell us everything. How he had been running from debtors, lying low. Taking work where he could. Doing "jobs".

Everything changed. The debtors were slowly fading away. New people chasing him.

Maurice corrected me. "No, babe. Not new people a new thing."


"Whatever was chasing wasn't human. Tall,, I've got it somewhere..."

Maurice began going through his coat, looking for something intensely.

He fished out a picture.

You know the stroy from here, I'm sure. The first appearance, the slow dread. Maurice stayed with us. Brian endured. I endured. Maurice and Brian became friends again. We all began looking for a way out. Maurice wouldn't leave, and we had been dragged in as well. We would find a way out.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

I hope everyone made it thorough the storm okay.

I felt dead

i'm still dying

I'm fine. Everything is fine. Great even.

Let me just remember where I left off and I will be back soon. I promise.

Believe me

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Sunday, October 23, 2011

i cant breathe

i cant breathe


i cant breathe

we I cant

I had a dream
I had a dream tonight
That I cut off a piece of the baby Jesus
To offend my friends

But the joke misfired, yes it did oh yes it did
Cause the piece of the baby I cut off it bled and it bled

I tried everything
I tried bandages and shit
I tried praying to it
But all to no avail

Nothing could keep the baby Jesus from bleeding
Oh no, nothing would keep the baby Jesus from bleeding





I got to stop having these dreams
They are killing me inside
They are killing me alive
They are ruining my soul

But nothing could keep these dreams from hurting me
No no, nothing could keep these dreams from fucking me up

And then the worst thing happened
The baby opened his eyes
And he stared into mine
And he started to speak

"He said listen boy I'm gonna throw you in hell
I'm gonna make you scream I'm gonna make you yell
I'm gonna make you wish that you'd never seen me in the first place you ungrateful prick






God made dirt and dirt don't hurt
God made our lives so much worse
So much fucking worse

God made guns and God made knives
He ruined all these God-made lives
God made knives and God made guns
God is having so much fun with us
So much fun with us

Heaven is a special place in hell
Where you can watch the people you hate get hurt.

Well God made crack and God made booze
God made the human race to lose
God made crack and God made booze
God made the human race to lose




i just want out

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

As life gets longer, awful feels softer,
and it feels pretty soft to me.
And if it takes shit to make bliss,
well I feel pretty blissfully. 

We packed our things and left in secret, only taking the money we had earned from our jobs, not much, not nearly enough. My mother wanted me to go to college, and Brian, he turned down a scholarship to UConn.To join Maurice on his Manifest Destiny.

We ended up moving into a small, nearly unbearably small apartment in the neighborhood of Chelsea. We settled down. Maurice began to audition for plays, Brain found work as a stage hand, and I worked as a bartender down the road a ways at night, and for a few hours in the morning I worked in a bakery. I had to, to make ends meet. The Rent wasn't cheap, and we had nearly no money. But I didn't mind. Maurice would come home, and tell us stories of the auditions, of the beautiful actresses, the directors, the drama he watched, and would hold me tight when I came home from the bar. He'd hold me and stroke me

only to dissapear and leave behind a depressed, spiteful man when he was not cast.

This happened


and again


No one was casting an unknown with no training and only 6 roles to his name.

Maurice would rage, sulk

and then he turned to drink+

and would rage and scream

just like my father.

If life's not beautiful without the pain,

well I'd just rather never ever even see beauty again.
Well as life gets longer, awful feels softer.
And it feels pretty soft to me. 

 But Brian...

Brian was sucessful.

Brain had tghe skills needed to secure his job, and rose quickly through the ranks as a skilled technician. He was getting paid more and more and even though he worked long hours, we could afford Maurice. We could afford him not working and drinking all day, going to auditions and then drinking more. We could afford to be his slaves.

But one night

when Maurice had passed out after forcing himself on me drunkenly again, saying how much he loved me

Brian put his hands on my shaking shoulders, gently, kissed me on the forehead and carried me out of the appartment.

Brain had been saving in secret, you see. He told me

"I won't let him hurt you anymore. I love you, Rachael. I love you. "

And I clung to him like a raft as he took me away from the terror, the fear.

Maurice dissapeared from our lives.

Saturday, October 8, 2011


I went back to the bar for the first time in forever. 

I had left it in capable hands

I sat down at the bar, and wouldn't you know it: Hellsing and Fucking Barry

They look at me and they look so goddam happy to see me its sickening. 

"MAURICE" Barry runs up and gives me a hug. I push him off. 
"Sorry where'd you go how have you been wall anyone into any walls or anything?"

I ignore him. Hellsing is looking at me pensively. 

"Hey little lady, its been a while. How goes?" He postures, sweating like a pig in a sauna. 

I nod to him. Barry won't shut up. I can't get a word in edgewise. I sit between them and Doc nods. Doc is good, he asks no questions. Doesn't care. 

"M'am if the Proxies are harassing (said like hair-ass-in) you I will dispatch them post-haste. The Order of the Proxie Hunter lives on! And On and On and ONNNN!" He shouts triumphantly.

Barry laughs and they high-five. 

and I can only whisper

"what happened to you?"


 what happened?

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

I haven't had the courage to talk about this part of my life, but I cannot hide who I am from you. Not anymore. I have to take the good with the bad. Rachael is who I am.


Brian was safe. I loved and hated that about him. Nothing changed about him. He was stable.

But Maurice...

Maurice would be painting one week, the next burning everything he painted. He'd have a stack of old-world philosophy tomes the next week and the week after that smoking out back with the stoners, or throwing rocks at cars with the chavs.

Even in our little town, there were stoners and chavs. I never even knew about that until I was much older. Maurice never let me into that part of his world, and I never ventured there.

My days were spent studying, being with Brian, acting with Maurice, and reading. Sometimes I wrote poems, sometimes I drew.

I...I think it's important to note I was still a virgin at this point. Brian never asked or pressured and...I wasnt about to, you know, ask him or anything oh god this is so embarrassing

I remember one day after practice, Maurice was driving me home.

He said so many things, and then

he had me

I couldn't look Brian in the eye

and Maurice had me again and again

until finally I broke up with Brian on fourth of July

months after.

We never told him but he knew he was devestated.

And one night on the way out of the door after practice to where Maurice's car was waiting

Brain was punching him kicked him stomping him and Maurice was not resisting

until Brian slumped over against his car and started sobbing

and Maurice held him gently.

he never held me that gently Brian's crying face between his two hands-

I ran away at this point I dont know what happened next I DONT WANT TO KNOW but they forgave each other. Brian had a few girlfriends in this time but they never lasted long.

And we graduated.

And Maurice had a gleam in his eye.

A plan, a holy mission.

To make us stars.

"We'll go to New York. Chelsea. All the artists go there. We can pool our money, get an apartment. Brian will be tech, I'll act, and Rachael." He gazed at me, that captivating gaze that lingers, lingers in your stomach for hours. "You can write the plays."

We left within the week. Maurice had captivated us both.

I loved him like a god.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Before I fell asleep, I remember hearing them talk.

"When I grow up I wanna marry Rachael."

"NO! I'm gonna marry Rachael!"

"We can both marry Rachael. And then we'll be friends forever."

I fell asleep as they began to giggle, then laugh. I loved the sound of their laughter mixing.


We were fourteen. Freshman. Sometime, when we were not looking, Maurice had begun to transform from the short awkward boy with a big mouth to a handsome sophisticated young man. Or so he would pretend. He was just as neurotic as he used to be. He just hid it better.

And lord knows we all had something to hide by this point. I had realized by the time I was twelve that not everyone's daddies spent the night in a drunken coma after shouting at nothing for hours on end. Brain had broken a boy's arm in a fight after a game and never again touched a football.

And Maurice? He kept his secrets, kept his thoughts to himself. Or most of them. You could never see all the way into his eyes.

But suddenly, Maurice was in. He was popular. And we became a little popular with him. Maurice carried the school swim team. And he looked good doing it. Maurice tried out for a school play, and got the lead in his first ever audition. Brian joined stage crew and I?

I was a supporting actor.

Brian and I walked home together every day, after practices were over.

The way he looked at everything but me on the walk back those warm fall afternoons meant more to me than the stares of all the other boys

except when Maurice would smile, really smile at me

which I hate to admit.

He finally asked me out at the beginning of sophomore year.

Brian was a good boyfriend. He remmbered. He explored with me. He helped me learn things, things neither of us knew anything about. He held me gently. So gently. He was afraid of hurting me. Always so afraid of hurting me.

And Maurice smiled with us and laughed but I could feel his eyes on me. His intense dark eyes always searching me.

Brian knew it too for those eyes were searching him as well.

His eyes were full of desire. For me, for Brian, for both of us, for our bond...

I'll never know I never understood him. I never could.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

We were ten. Brian Maurice and I had a sleepover in Brian's yard, in a large tent. It felt large at the time, anyways. The roof reached high over our heads and the entrance could fit two of us at once. A castle, to us.

We spent all night reading to each other, acting out the scenes we thought were the best. Brian loved the Wind and the Willows, I remember, always picking the scene where Mole and Rat and Toad and Badger (Badger was imaginary) defeated the evil stoats ferrets and weasels for control of Toad Hall.

Maurice's favorite was The Horn of Roland, or a King Arthur story. He loved the stories of knights, though I would never play the princess.

And I? I acted out their stories. They always had better choices than I did, theirs were more fun.

But this night, they managed to get me to play the princess. I can't recall how, exactly, but

Maurice had chosen a Knights of the Round table tale known as "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight"

Do you know this story?

It is the story of a knight, bold and valiant (Maurice) who is told he will be beheaded in a year by a Green Knight. He searches all across the land, looking for the Knight, and comes upon a kindly Baron and his wife. ( guess who was the baron and who was the wife)

So Gawain stays with them, because the Baron says that the meeting place where Gawain agreed to meet with the Knight is only a short distance away. The Baron goes out to hunt each day. The Baron tells  Gawain he will give him whatever he hunts as long as Gawain gives him whatever he gets during the day while he is gone. Gawain accepts.

So the Baron goes off to hunt and the Baroness immediately starts trying to seduce Gawain and he gives her one kiss. Gawain gave the Baron a kiss in return.

The next day, she gives him two more kisses, and on the third day, three kisses and an offer for a Green Belt that would protect him from harm.

Gawain accecpted the belt, the only additional thing he would gently rebuffing her advances, but he did not tell the Baron about the belt or his wife's infidelity, or give him the belt.

So when he went down to  the Chapel to meet the Green Knight, The Green Knight swung once, and held back the blow, twice, held back. Third, he pricked his neck.

Then the Baron removed his Helmet.

 He had been playing a joke with Gawain, and testing him. And Gawain had just barely passed.

I fell asleep early that night, but the two boys sat up talking and reading far into the night...

I don't know.

I think

this had a lot of bearing on how the rest of our lives went.

we were young, so young

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

When I was little, I lived in a tiny town in Northwestern Connecticut. The town had a population of maybe 1,200. Small. We were surrounded by trees.

It''s hard for me to describe the town without having you already know what it looks like, but imagine a place where all life is hidden by forests, thick forests, and neighbors are a tenth of a mile away.

I was lucky though. My parents built their house right next to their best friends house. They both had children. Brian and I were friends since the moment we were brought home.

As we got older, Brian and I played in the woods and our yards during the day and at night we would make silly faces and shine flashlights at each other through the windows.

Brian...I've avoided describing Brian as much as possible. I'm sorry. But he had brown hair, and glasses. A gentle smile.

When we started school we held each other's hands as we walked in. We  didn't know any of the other children.

I remember, sometime in the first week there was a schoolyard fight. A big kid and a smaller, scrawny tanned kid in a neighborhood full of Anglo-Saxons.

The big kid was slowly looming and the scrawny kid was bouncing around, moving his hands like a boxer and shouting.

" I'm so fast that last night I turned off the light switch in my hotel room and was in bed before the room was dark! You can't take me! I'm the greatest!"

 We were six. This is how we met Maurice. 


Brian ran foreward and made sure the big kid and Maurice wouldn't fight. As the crowd dispersed, dissapointed Maurice turned towards us and said quietly. "t-thanks." Only then did I see how scared he looked, the tear drops in the corner of his eyes. 

"I-I'm Maurice." He smiled awkwardly at us.

"My name is Brian an' this is Rachael." 

From then on, the three of us were inspererable. Maurice showed us Shakespeare,  made us bike to the resevoir where we broke into the tower in the middle, made the best group Halloween costumes. We were the only people who knew that Maurice, when not acting, had a halting stutter, a speech problem. It wouldn't be until High School that he had it fixed. Maurice cried when we watched anything remotely sad. 

And I watched.

Once a week, he'd stay over at Brian's house. Maurice and his parents never really got along, and that was they could still hang out with me

And sometimes, we'd go camping out in the forest behind the house. But that is a story for later.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

I found a wallet

I found a wallet

Inside were pictures of your small family
You were so young, your hair dark brown
You had been born in 1953
Your winter birthday was stamped on the plastic
Of a license so recently expired

I was so tired as I walked through my door
I let all the contents of your wallet on the floor

And like a holy relic

Or a mystery novel
I thumbed them in the dim light
Searching for a clue-

A Blockbuster card,
An old stick of Juicy Fruit
A crumpled receipt for a pair of leather boots

I have no wallet,

I have no wallet

I keep my cards together with a blue rubber band
And with a free hand I search in my pocket
For pieces of

pieces of paper and change

I'll take your wallet

To my local Blockbuster
They'll find your number
in their computer

You'll never know me
I'll never know you

But you will be so happy


When they call you up. 

Emma, darling Emma. Rest in peace.

I'll miss you.

The curtain is lowered slowly on Emma's stage, one final time.

I sweep off the stage, turn off the lights, and

lock the doors

one final time.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Killing him didn't make me feel any better

I like my town with a little drop of poison

Nobody knows they're lining up to go insane

I'm all alone, I smoke my friends down to the filter

it didnt restore that beautiful girl that near child

Wipe him down with gasoline 'til his arms are hard and mean
From now on boys this iron boat's your home


it just left me feeling more hollow more dirty

Said steam, steam, a hundred bad dreams
Going up to Harlem with a pistol in his jeans
A fifty-dollar bill inside a palladin's hat
And nobody's sure where Mr. Knickerbocker's at

he didn't even resist he didnt even try to fight

Son of a bitch is never coming back here no more
Moon in the window and a bird on the pole
Can always find a millionaire to shovel all the coal

he just laughed and cried and let me chopslashcut

Two-dollar pistol but the gun won't shoot
I'm in the corner on the pouring rain
Sixteen men on a dead man's chest
And I've been drinking from a broken cup
Two pairs of pants and a mohair vest
I'm full of bourbon, I can't stand up

he looked sick

Let me fall out of the window with confetti in my hair
Deal out Jacks or Better on a blanket by the stairs
I'll tell you all my secrets, but I lie about my past
And send me off to bed for evermore


whatami forgetting 

Sunday, September 11, 2011

I was too late.


i couldnt save her

but I got him.

Wolf, no Joel and I got there Thrusday morning. We found the note and left without leaving a trace. We didn;t want to disturb anything, and there was a direct challenge.

We burnt rubber the whole way there, my foot never left the floor of the car for days on end. and when we got there no sleep no stopping just rubber burning and acceleration, endless acceleration.

Back where it started back in New York why did We even leave-


oh Emma, oh my beloved daughter he was there and he was eating her he was fucking eating her HE WAS EATING SCHRODINGER

so I grabbed him and clawed at him and wolf helped me drag him to the car and
from there we drove, he drove, he didnt want to but I made him

"TO THE FUCKING DOCKS" I shrieked and Wolf did not argue

 I felt myself retreating into myself but I would not Rachael was the one who clawed his face as he didnt resist and laughed and weeped and laughed and I clawed his face and neck and bit him and ripped his throat and finally drew my knife and schreeched into his face


and slashed his face and cut his arm off and his keg was sawed off and his arm torn from its socket and stabbed up and down his murderous frame and stabbed both his eyes both of them and screamed into his throat and stabbed in his throat


and I put him into a barrel on the docks

and tossed him into the sea.

No part of his body was attached to any other part of his body.


I killed him. Chesire is dead. He paid for what he did to my daughter.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Exit Line

Two birds on a wire
One tries to fly away
And the other watches him  from that wire
He says he wants to as well
But he is a liar

"I'll believe it all

There's nothing I won't understand

I'll believe it all
I won't let go of your hand"

Two birds on a wire

One says "c'mon" and the other says "I'm tired
The sky is overcast and I'm sorry"
One more or one less
Nobody's worried


Two birds of a feather
Say that they're always gonna stay together
But one's never going to let go of that wire
He says that he will
But he's just a liar

Two birds on a wire

One tries to fly away and the other
Watches him close from that wire
He says he wants to as well, but he is a liar

Two birds on a wire

Once tries to fly away and the other... 

We are close

So close! Getting closer every day.

We are nearing the California border. As far as we know, she's somewhere in here.

Wolf has been a godsend. I don't know how I would have gotten through this trip without someone to prattle to, even if he mostly keeps quiet.

He's told me a little about himself, too. Lucas, I think their might still be hope. Not a lot of hope, but some hope. That sounds weird I apologize.

I'm getting anxious. I'm such a failure. I only hope...I only hope I can prove myself by saving her.

I dont have a lot to say so I'm just going to stop here.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

An Update/ A Brian Story

Oh dear, its been a few days, hasn't it?

I'm terribly sorry, everyone.

Honestly, if Wolf hadnt found me, and basically forced me to stay awake and drive out of that truckstop, I don't know what would have happened.

We think the exhaustion, the emotional strain and only eating junk food on an empty stomach was what caused me to get so I'll, but I'm having doubts.

Between you and me, internet, I think it might be Hhim.

But I have to soldier on. People are depending on me. No one's depended on me for such a long time.

Wolf is a better traveling companion than might be expected. Relatively silent, and rather gruff, to be sure but companionable. I'll write up a post about our adventures so far in a little bit.

But I believe I promised Dia a story.


I've...Ive avoided talking about Brian if I could. Brian is a bit more...personal.

Brian would tell me in High School, first, that he loved me. But we knew each other since we were little. We were neighbors. Maurice lived a few houses down the road, which in Barkhamstead means that he was quite a distance away.

Brian was a quiet boy. He loved to read, explore the woods that surrounded us and he was the kind of boy who liked to help people. He was so sweet to his parents to animals to me

No. Focus.

I remember one time, in High School, while we were dating, Brian took me by the hand, lead me to his car and drove me to the Reservoir.  People call it Saville Dam now, I guess.

We stood on the outcropping in the middle for well over an hour, Brian dragging on a cigar, unable to say the words he felt but I knew and held him as we both wept.

But they were happy tears. We needed each other.

Maurice was a specter that haunted both of us. Neither of us could resist him.

No one can.

But it was Brian who would be my protector and savior.

I promise I'll explain everything soon.

I promise. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry

Thursday, September 1, 2011

hn gg

I'm feeling a little better.

I managed to get some fast food down but i still feel too woozy yto really drive

hamburger's taste the sdame no matter how long its been since youve eaten one

I should at leadst get out of this truckstop today and keep going schrody's dependinfg on me

while I'm trapped I will tell a story i think

what do yoh wanna here baout

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Ugh oh god

Im in...nebraska?Kansas? Something like that

I ahvent stoped or eaten or slept in twentyfour hours and that was so dumb

why did i think that woud go well.

Im such a failure and now Im twitching in a truck stop lort.
locking my doors

gonna curl up until i stop twitching and shaking

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Special Delivery

Today the package I was expecting was finally delivered.

Most of you know who Spencer is: The fellow who runs the delivery service? He came up to my door this morning'

 "Delivery for..." His smirk softened to a grin. the sort of grin used in the noir films by dashing detectives. "Why hello there." He walked like an automaton as he entered: slow, awkward. He's extremely tall, I'm not sure if anyone's ever said that.

I insisted on seating him and giving the man a drink. While I was making his tea he seemed a bit uneasy. Because of me? I hope not.

I felt his eyes on me as I bustled with the tea, but still I did not expect him to strike up a conversation.

Spencer: "How have you been? It hasn't been easy lately, I gather."
Me: " comes and it goes. It gets hard to hold on to me, sometimes...not Thank you so much for asking. And Schrodinger...its hard. It's really hard"
Spencer: "Believe it or not, I know the feeling." He still had that slight smile  but his voice...his voice was so sad.
But I couldn't stop talking about myself.

Maurice: "Its not even so much that I'm giving into some unknown force, sometimes...I'm just too weak to hold onto myself. Rachael isn't strong enough to hold myself together, when it's really bad..."

Spencer: "It's surprising. you seem almost... hostile."
Me:"I just...things are weird. I...sometimes I wonder if Maurice is even the way... he appears, sometimes...I don't know I'm not a psychologist. I'm trying as hard as I can to be strong but it's never quite good enough."
Spencer: "He's trying his best, I think." his voice was quiet and unusual, and he was looking away from me, something so off, so...uncertain. "it's.. all to protect you so far. We get... twisted. We start to exagerate features to the point of interpretation of others, but if you just look at actions..."

It was in this moment I understood. Spencer was nervous. Just like me. He didn't know what to do either. Like me, he plays a part, though he plays it far better than I do.

Me: "...I think we understand each other better than we let on. Tabulas Rasas. Or we were." she says quietly, nearly a whisper." Am I wrong?"

He looked at me, earnestly, plaintively almost. I had hit a nerve, as he had hit mine without even knowing.

Spencer:"It's hard to judge right and wrong these days. Good an evil. Is it so bad if you think you're doing what's right? what's needed?"

Suddenly the smile returned, and he settled back. Buisness once again.

Spencer: "It's a good car. Was used by a mob boss way back when. Re-enforced paneling for bullets and collisions."

I smiled, a smile to show I was okay with going back to the matter at hand. That I could cope.

Me:"Good. I'm...I'm trying my hardest to do the right thing. I'm already going to hell. Its appreciated." I paused,  unsure if I should keep talking.
"I'm going to try to stand on my own two feet. You understand, right? Whatareyougoingtotake?"

Spencer: "Thanks for the tea. You're a lot more polite than a lot of the people I deliver to these days."
 Me: "I can't be rude. If I wasn't polite, I'd be alone. Who'd agree to visit a  Proxy who was rude?"

There was a quiet pause, a more comfortable one.
Me:"Give Elaine my best when you see her. You are welcome to stop by any time you are in the area."

He shook his head sadly.
Spencer: "let's hope we both last that long." He took his payment with him. As he stood up, he suddenly turned towards me. He leaned in close, stubble brushing her ear.
Spencer:  "... thank you."

His skin was as cold as ice.

I froze up. I didn't know what to do so I let my long dormant instincts take over and I hugged Spencer tightly. He seemed just as shocked as I did, but soon slowly but surely he returned my hug.

Only two other people have hugged me in the last twelve years.

Another pause, this time in the doorway.

Spencer: "Stay safe, alright? Both of you."

I smiled at that, because what else can you really do but smile?

Me: "Thank you for everything, Spencer."

Spencer: "... heh. Exit the tragic hero."

And then he was gone, into the bright summer morning.

I'm posting this from a truck stop somewhere in the middle of America. I'm going to live, now. I'm done hiding in the rainy nights of New York.

I'm breaking out, NOW.
I will try to find something more then the roles and acting I left behind.

Sunday, August 28, 2011




Hell of a storm out there, not a night for men or beasts ladies and gentlemen.

But you know what else is not going to be meant for men or beasts?



But seriously. Worldly possessions sold, house cleaned, andddd

Rachael finally remembered where I stored all my knives. ALL THE KNIVES.

Butterfly, Switchblades, bowie, serrated AND straight. (UNLIKE DAVID WHOS NEITHER Ohhh! Ohhh!)

 I brifly considered a machette but come on, that's so pedantic.

Don't get confused: I'm not a knife nut. One just tends to gather tools that are useful. Brian god rest his soul had a collection of axes crowbars, mallets, a regular tool store in his room by the end.

Weeee oh God I love that sound We not I not you not my Name but WE picked out two. No hints, ladies and germs but it'll be a nice show for you lot. I can promise you THAT! KILL HIM DEAD WITH THE BLADES OF JUSTICE

or however you chaps say it these days

So the car should be arriving soon.

On a serious note, Rachael's shaken up guys. Shaken up Badly.

She needs whatever support you lot can give her.

And now, she's out for blood.


she never killed anyone before

I dont know if she


am ready now

Thursday, August 25, 2011

You know what I've been doing today?

Going around

painting over my grafiti and tearing down my posters all over the city

this isn't over not for a long shot but I have to try

I don't know what is going to happen to me now I've never had to run on my own but I'm expecting a way out of the city to come shortly. I'll be around for a little while still, to be sure.

But Ronan, he's hasn't responded yet. I guess I was really cryptic but its hard to get past the layers to the first mask.

I don't even

I don't even know for sure.

He listened. I want to see him for that much. He listened and had faith before anyone else did or even would.

I want to see him for that at least.

I haven't felt anything for such a long time.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

“Do you remember that day you fell out of my window?”
“I sure do, you came jumping out after me.”
“Well, you fell on the concrete and nearly broke your ass and you were bleeding all over the place and I rushed you off to the hospital. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, there’s something I never told you about that night.”
“What didn’t you tell me?”
“While you were sitting in the backseat smoking a cigarette you thought was going to be your last, I was falling deep, deeply in love with you and I never told you ‘til just now.”


Love it all comes down to love

all we have in the end of this is our fragile human emotions they are our greatest weapons and biggest weaknesses.

why else would a man leap into the void but to try to save his love?

why else would a man fight on despite the hopelessness, but to avenge his love's death?

I'm reminded of part of a song, honest this time. I won't hide behind lyrics falsely anymore.



Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is whenever I’m with you
Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is when I’m alone with you

Let me come Home

Home is wherever I’m with you 


this is scarier than death

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Now What

I'm waiting on something.

I wish I knew what. A sign, I suppose. The Car, for sure. I'm waiting for that mine couldn't make it that far.

I considered burning down or selling the house, but I decided I'd leave it standing. There are far too many memories in that building to just burn it and it would be nice to have something to fall back on

I had hoped to make this post about something important, something that I could share

But I realized I have very little but the past


We were nineteen. All of us were, I mean. It had been a year since Maurice had decided that he would not go on to college. Maurice had a plan. He bought a car, and an apartment in New York, and the three of us fled in the night for the city. We settled in to our squalorous apartment. This was back in the early nineties, And Maurice told us Chelsea was the place to be in New York. We settles in, and as time went by we found jobs and worked and looked for our chances.

But the never came


The other night I was walking down the street and I saw a young man being beaten by two men in masks. They were laughing the sort of laughter that stops just short of a man's belly, the sort of laugh you only hear from the dead and the broken. The boy was sobbing he was the boy I gave the money to I saw when they ripped his hood up and kicked into his face.

But I could do nothing


im so weak

Thursday, August 18, 2011

I'm back.

thing have been unstabel the last few days shifting sliding slipping

but I think its over, and the storm has receeded.

HE was here. HE visited me. He hasn't been here in years, years years years not since they

But I don't know I don't know if he was displeased I don't know if he can be displeased I mean I don't even know if he can tell us apart from each other not really proxies and runners and fighters we are all his

I'm rambling. Focus. Focus.

But Maurice left a very specific list when he was here and he was always the schemer the smart one the planner and I'd be a fool to ignore it.

My head was filled with darkness. I had such strong desires. To kill, kill Elaine Kill Hakurei kill Nick especially Nick.

But he could not make me want to hurt Schrodinger. The one I consider my daughter. The daughter I shall never have, despite it all.

Nor could he make me hate Ronan.


I remember in the final days. Maurice was off on some mad quest, shouting how he would return with the beasts head. Brian was watching me. He knew I was too far gone, too lost within myself to help myself so he fed me, made sure I bathed, took care of me.

And when HE came Brian picked up the axe from the wall, and stood in front of me, his whole body shaking, his eyes so determined.

He was afraid so afraid but he did not back down, and they stared at each other until Maurice burst into the room dressed like Childe Roland of all things and blowing an old-fashioned warhorn made out of the bone of some beast

and HE left.

Maurice and Brian lifted be back onto my feet, and both my heroes walked me out of the door.

as I drifted to sleep that night I heard them whispering

"no matter what happens, she's gotta survive. Nothing else matters."


I have begun to pack all my things, and prepare to leave.

I have been in this city for far too long.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Im not a bad person

I swear I'm not

None of us were we just didnt know better didnt know anything

But we learned and we lived!

I've spent the last few days just brooding. Brooding and packing. Organizing things. Figuring things out.

There are things I must get accomplished, whether by the Fabulous Maurice (yours truly) or by Rachael

Things I must get done at a later date include:

1) Murdering the FUCK outta that Chesire fucked-faced twatcunt bitchass titshit.  NO ONE HURTS MY LITTLE GIRL.

2) Actually telling my story instead of acting like a stupid weakassed bitch who can only cry and sob. And leave baffling cryptic hints that don't match to anything.

3) Meeting up with Ronan. Because shit, as much as I'm loath to admit it, he's one of the few things holding us at arm's length from HIM right now.

4) As related to 3, Getting out of this house and getting a mode of transportation. Rachael has left enough shit  unattended to for FAR to long, just laying about in this house and sometimes doing ineffective things and minor charity work. I DIDN'T SET THIS UP SO SHE COULD DO THAT.

5) Don't get murdered by an Abomination by finding non-murder ways to appease it.


And look, ladies and gentlemen, listen to me. Maurice was never a bad person. I'm not a bad person. I'm just less than an arms length from a Horror and things bend things break

I'm dealing with four now. This guy could help. Heaven knows We can pay whatever he asks.

She'd want it to be Spencer. Which is fine, I guess.

Rachael will be coming back soon. But until then...

I have an old friend to track down.

see rachael look i can do it too



Saturday, August 13, 2011


Small-time Napoleon's shattered his knees
But he stays in the saddle for Rose
And all his disciples, they shave in the gutter
And they gather what's left of his clothes

 Ladies and gentlemen!

It's been a while since we've been on this stage. I turn my back for five minutes and what do I find?


I am so dissapointed.

The show had barely started! The wheels need to keep on turning.

But the show must go on! It always goes on and on and on and on!


Sing me a rainbow, steal me a dream.

But regardless. I have some things to talk about.

Dearest Rachael is MINE. I'm all she has. All she needs. Well Brian but Brian is hardly a man so whatever. The point is you chucklefucks are NOT WELCOME. Whatever she says.

If she forgets about us, I'll be dead forever, you hear me?

She can't forget about us not me she's the only one left I'm all she has when the lights are gone.

Besides, she'd be dead if it wasn't for me.

I killed those people for her. She's not hurt anyone. And I plan on keeping it like that.


no more than that I AM HER.

play the part be the part.

Rachael deserves better than any of you.

So she gets me.


Thursday, August 11, 2011

I had houseguests

The house has been quiet for so long. Its was wonderful to just have other people around.

And the people who have been the first to break my silence for years are some of the people I'd most wanted to see.

Elaine is such a proud woman. A warrior. Brian would have loved her. He liked women who had the look she holds in her eyes. They were always his weakness, but he was always so shy...never taking the lead. Waiting and watching

I'm wandering I'm wandering. Focus.

She held me when I was at my worst and she listened as I told her what I could of myself and she listened god she listened.

She had some advice for me, and she made me clear the dust and open the blinds.

She was the one who told me I need to go for him, find anything, just get out

But the one I was happiest to see was Schrodinger.

She...she's the reason I'm able to post lucidly right now. She's an angel, even in her near death state. I'll remember looking into those eyes for the rest of my life

eyes that believed in me as I cared for her

there was no itch.


as long as I cared for her. 

Rachael loves her

and I know I would have loved to been her father.

But they are gone, and once more the house gets quiet. The rooms get dark. The blinds shut

and the crawling returns to my skin

no I need a goal a reason I can't let this keep happening I can't be Maurice

even though it is so sooo easy dahhhling...

you could never resist me, you know. Not once,

But its not just me now. a world where she lives, there is purpose. My daughter.

She's hardly that, my dearest. You know that. Stop this foolishness.

You are me now. You are the reason I'm gone now, so accept me like a good girl.
Take it, it's what you were always good aattttttt.

You don't need anyone else but Brian and me. We are everything.

what about what about Ronan.



Sunday, August 7, 2011

I can hear the voices sometimes.

Maurice, in his strong silky tone, like a warm blanket over my body.

Brian, in his gentle loving voice, holding me together, trying to shelter me.

Brian standing tall, an axe in his hand, his whole body shaking, making his glasses dance in the lowlight.

Maurice laughing, shouting how all the world is a stage and we are but the players

Brian whipsering how he loved me afraid unable to touch

Maurice caressing me, telling how he needed me

Imdrowning in them

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Strike the Set

Well here we are. You must know me by now. Know what I am.

If not

the show is over, ladies and gentlemen.

and I'm the only one who stayed behind to clean up.

I'm the only one still here.

I remember more of what I am and what I was. But nothing near enough, nothing near a right ammount.

I'm trying though good God I'm trying.

I sweep the stage alone in the spotlight on the dark stage

the stage must be clean

I expect guests, someday.

I really am quite lonely.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Act Five Scene One

I shouldve done something

its all my fault its all my fault no i refuse to take the burden of a life that I barely impacted

the gift I sent, I hoped they liked it even if now

it was a pair of crystal candlesticks, each cut so they always seemed to sparkle and shift with the light

but Im glad I didnt go to the wedding. I couldn't have faced myself in the aftermath.

The third person of note from the bar. Doc, the bartender, owner and operator. Doc fought in Nam, or so he claims. He says he's been haunted ever since the days of heavy fighting in the undergrowth, and that worse things than HIM lurk in the hearts of men. He wasn't fazed at all when the tall Spectere the locals called in whispered tounges the white man, or as he says they say in the native tounge, "trang nagooey dan ong" followed him home from the war. He thought it was just another form of PTSD and ignored it for years until he encountered other people who had seen him as well. Then he reckoned that if this was real, and a lot of people were impacted, a little place for them to drink and relax in each others company might not be a bad idea, maybe even let out some rooms. So he turned his parents tennament into a little Bar and hotel and settled into the routine of a barkeep for the next 30 years. He says that The White Man has left him alone, for the most part ever since. He's not been moved touched or harassed in a long time, though he reckons its cause he lets folks like me and barry in.

Have I talked about barry before of maybe I should I gotta distr

Barry is this dude, you know, that dresses like some douchebag from the 1820's or something or some mideval noble and uses scenes from Poe works as his modus operandi. He's often in the bar with me, because as far as I can tell he doesnt get much work because of his low sucess rate.

So I'm Drinking heavily last night trying to forget that I am what I am when I see barry stroll in. He takes a seat next to me at the bar and starts talking about the job and his buisness.

Barry likes to try to slip things into peoples food, and then wall them into buildings. Or else wear a fucking carnival mask and pretend he's Red Death and then tackle the target. Yeah hes a tackler.

And hes telling me all about the trials of bricking someone into a wall and how long it takes but how fortunate he is that his job as a mason (I didnt know masonry was still a thing) was so helpful and

of fuck I cant do this right now




Thursday, July 14, 2011

 I feel so peaceful tonight. The itch has receded, even though I haven't acted on it.

I gave forty dollars to a kid I saw in Harlem today. He had an operator symbol on his back. I figured he was a runner, even though he was so young.

I wonder what ever became of the boy, the one from before. I hope he is alright, and I wish he could forgive me

Though he won’t, I know.

Have you ever been in love? Love makes even the worst situation feel so much better.

I realize, I never finished describing the occupants of the bar, did I?

The girl who works there has been there for at least ten years. She came in one night while I was boozing like a man with nothing left. She was beaten bruised and hysterical, though she collected herself enough to ask for a glass of water before she passed out. and doc gave her a job on the spot, she was that bad.

It took years of slowly prying, and a lot of secret drinks, before I could get her to open up.

She had been a young wife. Married her high school sweetheart at the age of 18. By age twenty, his promises had dried up along with his work, leaving them in poverty in an unfamiliar city. He turned to drinking, and the drinking turned to beating, and every day she was beaten within an inch of her life, with no where to go and neighbors who didn't care at all. They saw her.

One day, hubby got further into the drink than ever before, and began to chase her around their apartment with a knife. She screamed, she begged and pleaded, but no one would help, no one cared. He tossed the knife, slicing the side of her face and just began to beat her, punching until bones broke, punching until she was a barely conscious pulp

and then he screamed, and through her blurry eyes, she saw a tendril of black burnt wood, or so she thought, sticking through the bastard.

More and more tendrils began to fill him, and gently, he was carried out into the night.

A lone pale face, or I guess, more properly a lack of one looked into the window, and she never saw her husband again.

Every year, she gets a new teardrop tattoo under her eye. One for every year he's been gone, and one for every year HE's away. He's not bothered her since.

I don't claim to understand.

There's nothing wrong with her. Nothing that a few hundred dollars won't fix.
"Camilla: You, sir, should unmask.
Stranger: Indeed?
Cassilda: Indeed, it's time. We have all laid aside disguise but you.
Stranger: I wear no mask.
Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) No mask? No mask! "
-Act 1, Scene 2d
Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink beneath the lake,
The shadows lengthen
In Carcosa
Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies
But stranger still is
Lost Carcosa.
Songs that the Hyades shall sing,
Where flap the tatters of the King,
Must die unheard in
Dim Carcosa.
Song of my soul, my voice is dead;
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in
Lost Carcosa.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Oh hey guys

whats up lately? I've been reading the blogs today, getting all caught up.

I've been pretty busy. Gotta keep busy. A friend of a friend brought my play to this bigwig producer for a major TV station (won't say which) and he wants me to write a series instead of this play. If the pilot does well with the best audiences, it might make the big times!

Somethings are important in life.

I don't like the way you've been talking about me lately though. As if I'm something to be pitied.  "Powh liddle Mawice...How sad."

I see it in your words and on your faces.

When I was thrity in my first year in the service I was left autonomous. I still am now, I never see or hear from anyone else in the Service, none of the other Actors. I had to guess and use the itches to figure out when I needed to act.

Do you know what I mean when I refer to the itch?

its an itch in the back of my skull, in the pits of my chest. It scratches and scratches as things get worse as I am inactive enough. I was scared back then but I was also merciless.

There was a man. He was a new runner. Had a family, Mom, Dad, brother. They were twins. He had told his whole family, I uncovered, as the whole family had a hunted look as they crouched in my soup kitchen.

I gave them my most kind smile and made sure they got a little extra food, and sliped them a twenty. I told them to be careful.

Later, I ran into them "by chance" in the park. I knew what I had to do by then.

I used all the skills of my trade and wove a story of being a runner and knowing a place of safety where they could rest indoors for the night and they without even thinking about it, without even worrying, took me at my word.

I killed his brother, shedding his blood over the floor of the old appartment. I slashed his father until he screamed, until he begged for the death of his sons, rather than himself, and left him to bleed to death.

Then I visited the mother. She had been tied to a chair. She begged,

"DO with me what you want but please dont hurt my familydonthurt my family"



continued without mercy


I let the boy back into the world.

play the part, be the part

Monday, July 4, 2011

when we got out of high school the three of us watched the fireworks this day and even though none of us were single even though he had promised and I had promised our intrepid hero took rachael away from the noise the ligths the sparks and he took her to the top of the hill overlooking there whole world and he kissed her and with that kiss our world begaN TO FAAL APART

and because even then brian was watching and he wept for the loss of both his lo9ves and my heart broke as well

though no one knew it

play the part be the part play the part be the part


Thursday, June 30, 2011

I just realized that

Even Hotel Paradiso

was considered Vaudville in its day.

My whole life is Vaudville

so lets give you a show

you won't ever forget

Look for the Fourth

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Act Three Scene Two

 I cried today

I've not cried in a long long long time.

I could go off the deep end,
I can kill all my best friends.

I've been on edge, you know, for a while. You can probably tell. The show's been floundering, I've been losing my lines...

I can follow those stylish trends.
God knows I can make amends. 

And then this

I just

thank you, Schrodinger. Thank you.

But I've got an angry heart filled with cancer and puppy hearts.
If this is how you folks make art, its fucking depressing.

And then the Messenger had the courage to share himself Right at this time. Like he was waiting to strike which even I know is stupid.

And its sad to know that we are not alone and its sad to know there's no honest way out. 

So here, I'll try. I have to at least try.

The world's been like a carnival but not a good carnival like the kind you find in a mall parking lot filled with deathtraps and broken men and ears of corn from the regan era used to make dollar popcorn with the grease from the engines

I remember a young Maurice, not quite so young on stage. He was always the most alive on that stage. It was in high school sometime. Yes, the play was the Hotel Paradiso a comedy of errors from France.

The young Maurice played Mousieur Boniface the man attempting to conduct an extramarital affair with the wife of his best friend and neighbor, Marcelle, played by Rachael. His friend, Henri, is a building inspector sent to check out a hotel for the night. Henri was played by brian. However, all three end up at the same hotel. Boniface and Marcelle attempt to build an ever bigger web of lies in order to keep Henri fooled and Boniface's wife unknowing.

We were born for our roles.

Except the young Maurice should have been Henri.

I'm rambling forgive me.

But the young Maurice glided and sang across the stage and brian was meant to be there they were perfect foils the two of them the best possible counterparts. Maurice owed everything to Brian and Brian owed his success all to Maurice.

But Rachael could only love one, and both had loved her since they were little boys.

I remember the day a younger, much younger Maurice and a similarly aged Brian stared at each other across their tent as they both confessed their love. Brian and Maurice, smiled, touched each others hands, shook

and then they kissed once

it still burns my lips to this day when I'm off guard.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Question Responses and returning questions

I figured this would be the best way to do this as a whole.

I will go in order.

-Lucas asked: "How was your weekend?"

Terrible. It never stopped raining, and the pressure's been getting worse. Like an ache of worry at the back of my spine.

My question for you is this. What do you think the happiest moment of your life has been? Please describe it.

-Aimee asked: "If you had to place it, what genre would you say your story is?"

If I had to, I would place it as a Black Comedy, or a classical tragedy. Greek Era.

My question is: What draws you to our blogs, when you don't have one yourself?

TMV: I can't I just can't I'm so sorry. In return I won't ask you a question. Please forgive me.

Overmatter:  He's alive.

What do you believe is the saddest thing in the world?

Where was I.

Killjay asked: "What do you think of Shakespeare? Specifically Romeo and Juliet."

I think Romeo and Juliet is a very interestingly constructed play. I was more of a fan of Mercurtio and Tybalt than Romeo and Juliet, though.  Shakespeare was a genius, but my preferred play is "a comedy of errors", if I had to pick.

My question for you is "Why? Why are you here?"

Typer, aka "." asked : "What is the worst thing that can happen to a man?"

My answer is this.

To be trapped, knowing your doom is looming, and be unable to do anything. To have to wait for the crash for the arm of irrefutable truth, unflinching "justice" to fall. And to know you are powerless.

My question for you is this. What do you want most?

Ryuu, what happened to me is that the world came crashing down and I was the only one who stood among the steam and steel.

Ryuu, Why do you linger here?

Messenger: In the city. Find the bar, and ask about Maurice.

What is your greatest fear?

Nick: I last felt alive when I was in High School. A long time ago. I've been dying ever since. Slowly, Slowly slowly.

Why do you hate me?

I must go now I havetogo

Friday, June 24, 2011

Act Three Scene 1

Heyyy folks.

Some of you have been wondering about what you should do with your old pal Maurice.

Lets get one thing straight- i mean you no harm. I mean that. Should you trust me? Probably not, quite honestly. It's not smart. But hell its not smart to trust anyone here.

But we are victims too. We also have our stories to tell.

If you are going to deride us, deride us.

But listen, please before the curtain falls on all of us. Please listen.

We have our own stories to tell.


I'm feeling generous and needy today. A Question for a Question!

I will answer any question you have, but be prepared to answer a question in return.

I need to talk

Its been a bad weekend.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Did I ever tell you about my uncle?

He played accordion really well. My family was stranded in Vermont, even though we were once wealthy train moguls because grandpa had moved a castle from England to Maine with the Train money, and the depression blew the rest of it.

I never saw the trains, because the money was gone before I was born the castles still up there somewhere falling apart in a state park or it was I havent looked at in years wait no I mean new hampshire I guess maybe not vermont though

Dad worked his whole life to keep me in school. He was never pleased I wanted to be an actor, but Uncle Vernon always approved.

Vernon played the accordion on the side. He was so good, he could have done it for a living I swear. But other things made him put that aside. He worked in the slaughterhouse. He'd sing in the mother tounge while cut cowsslaughtered sheeppricked pigs

He patted me on the head one day, and told me to be what I wanted to be

he died when i was very yuoung.

 He was as independent as a hog on ice

thats not what i wanted to talk about the show must go on fuck what was it

Im trying Im sorry Im trying Im trying

Friday, June 17, 2011

I was called out on using Mr. Wait's 9th and Hennepin.

But the place I used it to mask is real. It's the stage, as it were. You'll find it in the City if you look hard enough.

But like my name. It's as real as the rest of me, a careful mosaic over a face that barely obscurs, but still leaves unrecognizable. 

It's a quiet night. The mic stand is quiet, closed up for the evening. Friday night's are not for the open mic, those are on tuesdays, except for the off months, on which they are wendsdays.

The bar is mostly empty because he's in, tonight.

The one's on His side of the board, the one's who really need this place can't stand it when he's in here.

At the bar is a man with the most outrageous hat, a beer belly the size of at least a twenty four pack, two bottles of wine, and maybe a pitcher or two in there somewheres.

He calls himself Hellsing sometimes.

We're the only ones in the bar tonight. Doc's off the bar.

"There are those who call me the dark sword of torment. When I see evil, I destroy it with my terrible vengeance! I am known for my impossible skill, able to deflect a bullet with my skull. Totally did that. Doctor's said it glanced right off, I was back to hunting that target the next day! Yeah! I'm the best there is at what I do, and what I do is proxy hunting! Ever heard of proxies, son?"

The Man pushed up his rediculous hat with the mouth of his bottle and then took another plug, the rain dripping off his large body like it was fleeing from him, trying to escape his body. I couldn't blame them.

The worst part is every week I tell him I work for the other team and every week he throws a fit and tries to start a fight, and then runs away. He does this Every Week. I guess he's just lonely.

"They're evil man, totally evil. They're bitches of a faceless guy in a suit. Their minds are weak, but they are cunning. They're fond of riddles and codes, and they're not bad in a scrap.  BUT THE DARK SWORD OF TORMENT CANNOT BE STOPPED BY SUCH BUTTFUCKERY! Is that a word? It better be a word. It's totally a word. Yeah! I've hunted about five so far. Only one has escaped. The other two sort of got arrested, or I got arrested and they admitted they just couldn't handle me, and of them...I think he was a proxy. He talked about mudkips a lot, so I assumed preemptively that he was from Something Awful where this thing first showed up. Mudkips are a Something Awful thing you know. Anyways, I decked him, and told him never to follow me again. Then I took his glasses and stomped on them. He cried for mommy, but I didn't care. No proxy is fooling me"

I turned to The Girl and motioned for a Blue Moon. Ideally, there would also be an orange, but Doc's too cheap for fruit. Not in his establishment.

"You're looking at me awfully funny. What are you laughing at?! Proxies are real man! Maybe it was mudkips last time. Next time, they'll be talking about "Epic Fail" and their "memes". But make no mistake, they're after me. They know I know their secret. They know I can follow in the footsteps of our great leader, Zero, and crush them where they hide."

He took off his hat and the sack of shit actually had tears in his eyes. Goddam.

" And once they're gone, the faceless guy is NOTHING. I'll totally kill him with my bare fucking MANLY HANDS."

He lifted his sausage fingers and sweaty hands into the air like a toddler. An angry toddler.

"Do you question. The power. Of. My. BARE. FUCKING. MANLY. HANDS?!"

"Goddam, crazy keep it to yourself" The Girl says. She's not as used to this as the rest of us are, rest her soul.

"INSANE?! I'm fucking amazing! I am the dark sword of torment! I am HELLSING, who takes power from the souls of every man he slays! But not women. That'd just be fucked up. In any case, proxies can't be women, I think, which is pretty nice."

She rolls her eyes, and spits into his bottle expertly as he turns to face me again, still rambling. I've finally had enough, though.

"Jesus Dickless, fuck off. You know who I am! I'm the same fucking guy you do this too every week! The Phantom Proxy of Broadway! The Actor Agent!"

The Girl sighed heavily and began rumaging under the bar. 

"MY NAME IS RICHARD! I... I...I'll crush you! But I need to get my mighty sword, in the style of Zero's, from my car. I'll be back in five! Count them! Five minutes!"

He flees the  bar and runs back into the rain. Another Dog lost in the night, his scent being washed away by the rain. No one will know where he came from and where he went into the night.

I hope he's here next time in spite of myself.