Cain Hargreaves (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
misterblackbird) wrote2010-12-31 04:14 pm
misterblackbird) wrote2010-12-31 04:14 pm
Entry 457; Day 742
This door had been here before.
This door had been here before, but this door was not here now.
This door had been here before, but this door was not here now because the reason for the door had disappeared, and so the need for the door had disappeared as well.
This door had been here before, but this door was here now.
The
real
prob
lem
as
far
as
Cain
can
see1,
whi
ch
is
not
very
far,
is
that
this
hall
way
is
un
fam
il
iar
and
was
not
pre
sent
be
fore.
Together with what he immediately recognizes
as the landing of a flight of stairs
or a mezzanine, as though he is in the
Opera Abandoned, but wandering in the dark.
There is a Grand Staircase.
which really
should be
impossible
so far in.
but as he did this thing, as he moved farther in, as he freed himself from the hallway, with no expectation of arriving at the previous destination of the doorway, there came over him for the first time in the day an odd sort of peace. Usually at a time like this, outside of panic, inside of a situation, the most one felt was annoyance, like that for an insect buzzing around for too long. One has to obliterate its life, and the physical effect, the obviousness of the act, the knowledge that this is only one unit in a seemingly infinite series, that killing this one won't end it, won't relieve one from having to kill more tomorrow, and the day after, and on, and on. The futility of it irritates and so to each individual act one begins to bring something of the savagery of military boredom, which as any trooper knows is mighty indeed.
This time, it isn't like that. Things seemed all at once to fall into a pattern: a great cosmic fluttering in the blank, dark ceiling2, and each wall, each step, each corner, each invisible molecule of chilled air seemed to shift imperceptibly so that this darkness and he slid into alignment, assumed a set symmetry, a dancelike poise.
It had only to do with the destroyer and the destroyed and the act which united them, and it had xxxxx been that way before.
Just as its own loose sand is licked away by the cold tongue of a current from the North/South, a coast begins to devour time the moment one arrives. It offers life nothing: it is stones; its soil is arid; salt-bearing winds, chilled, sweep off the sea to blight anything that tries to grow. There is a constant battle with the fog, which wants to freeze everything, down to the marrow of bones. The sea is gray, the sea would consume the stones, and that is the only food offered, save for desperation and offerings2 made in desperate times and in dark times3.
Like cries and calls echoing in an empty room.
Why not endless till the farthest star? Darkly they are there behind the light, darkness shining in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds. By day in the midst of a lighted City beside a livid sea, unbeheld, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars. He would hrow this ended shadow from him, manshape ineluctable4, and call it back. Endless, would it be his, form of his form? Who watches him here? Who ever anywhere will read these written words?✓ Signs on a white field. Somewhere to someone in a soft voice, veiled in darkeness: veil of space with coloured emblems hatched on its field. Flat could be seen, but one can then think distance, near, far, flat, East, back.
Click does the trick.
Some may find his words dark, but darkness can be in the soul, shame-wounded by sins, clinging yet more, as a woman to her lover clinging, only all the more. Dark languages rarely survive.
Direction is difficult at best6
when
one
doesn't
know
nwod
morf
pu.
The worst dreams (nightmares), typically, take place in darker surroundings, regardless of the details of the dream as they relate to the particular mind or subconscious of the dreamer, an idea explored in great detail by both Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung. Some speculation regarding particular the darkness inherent in nightmares has been said to stem from primitive human fears relating to darkness and the night. Due to the relative weakness of human vision in low light, since rods and cones do not carry the same photon information and are disproportionately distributed in the ocular organs, and the relative weakness or helplessness of human beings in the face of larger or other predators, the fear of "something in the dark" which is so prevalent among children may, in fact, hearken back to the oldest of human fears. It is little wonder that such an institution as building shelter and houses might have developed so quickly among early humans, as forms of protection, as a means by which to delineate inside from outside, good from bad, safe from unsafe. That is, to fear the dark is a human instinct, and a sensible one in a situation in which what is in the dark, both in terms of predators and in terms of other physical dangers, is absolutely unknown. Hence, the poetic parallel of the darkness and the unknown, but perpetually cast in a negative light because of the presence of this human instinct. Consider one such dream: a young dreams of his own birth, which is a nightmarish image, if a child can call such an image up, but with the revelation that he was an unwanted pregnancy carried to term, whether this revelation is true or not. He observes the scene as it plays out in half-light and darkness, and the other figures speak little, if at all, and make mention only of the "calamity child," or "the embryo of the cursed bloodline," or of "black wings." Although human beings begin existence in darkness, in the womb, with parents likewise often embracing first in the dark, darkness thereafter becomes something to be feared, suggesting perhaps that the Freudian interpretation is the better of the two4. The truth is that it's a matter of perception; the object precedes the reflection, the shadow precedes the object. They are one another's object, and thus subject unto themselves. It's a beautiful idea, but it doesn't work.
I can hear myself. I'm somewhere in [t]here.
1. Night Vision: visual capacity in faint light, as at night. This ability is considerable in certain animals, other than humans, which are adapted to living in darkness or situations of low light. Familiar animals are cats, owls, bats, and raccoons.. Also, Night Blindness: reduced visual capacity in faint light, as at night. See also; Night Watch.
2. I[m]mum Coeli. A Latin term meaning "the lowest part of the heavens," often wrongly applied to the cusp of the 4th house, which in many chart systems falls on the Northern angle of the horoscope figure: see Midheaven. The IC (as it is often abbreviated) is sometimes called the Anti-Midheaven.
3. See also; Black Mass.
4. "Meanwhile, the Worm is far from idle, having immediately begun, in that Womb of wet stone, to grow,--local people hear it thrashing about, and the bravest, as they peer down into the echoing dark, may almost see it. Soon, the water has acquir'd an unpleasant taste, metallic, sour, heavy with a reptilian Musk. Buckets let down do not come back up, creaking noises are heard at night as the well's Casing is brought under some enormous Force,--till one morning, as the Sun rises, so up over the Rim of the Well, appears a great blazing pair of Eyes, the closely set set, purposeful eyes of a Predator. Slowly, with no appearance of effort, it begins to ascend from the Well, accompanied by a terrible, poisonous odor,--flowing up over the edge--indeed, it keeps come for longer than it should. Everything living in the area, including the vegetation, stops what they're doing and attend. The Worm seems quite hungry. Taking its time, the Work proceeds to one of the Batts or Islands in the River, where it sets up its base of operations. Its needs are simple,--Food, drink, and the pleasure to be had from killing. It eats sheep and swine, drains milk from cattle nine at a time--the number nine recurs in the Tale, tho' the reason is dark,--and careless dogs, cats, and humans are but light snacks to it. Around it, a circle of Devastation appears, pale and soil'd, which no one enters, and which the World must keep shifting , for, a little at a time, as it goes on widening,--the Worm each day venturing a little further from its base, till at length the circle of terror advances to include a direct view of the Battlements of Lambton Castle itself, the final sanctuary, surely inviolable,--although the people in the Castle dare not try to organize an exodus, for the Worm when it must can travel at great speed, faster than horses can gallop,--they have watch'd in terror many Chases to the death across the Tide-Plain below, as, once alerted, the Work has easily cuty its Victims off in the open, far from any refuge or escape." Heri La Fougueuse, "The Worm or Werym," Annus Mirabilis or Some Observations on Nature
5. "Ineluctable modality of the visible: as least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, maestro di color che sanno. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it, it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see." James Joyce, "Proteus," Ulysses
6. Imperfect Signs: These are Leo, Virgo, and Pisces, so called because (according to Abdul Al-Hazred, at least), "those born under them, and with bad aspects, are deformed in some way or other." These are also called the "Broken Signs" and "Mutilated Signs." To these Hall adds Cancer and Capricorn. Sumomame Juvesa. As Morin de Villfranche noted at the end of his life, despite his intense suffering with the latter stages of syphilis, "This cannot be all there is to life because in our confrontation with an enormous and cold universe there's something comical to the idea that we can really enforce our will on humanity. Power corrupts. It's your world. Do with it what you want. No, that's not the way to do it. Power. That's not the way to do it. Paradox. No. It's your world. No. It's your world. No. It's your world. No. It's your world. No. Controlling."
[ooc: Cain found a new door where a magic door that Megumi Yamamura had created (it vanished when she left the City) that linked his room and her apartment had once been. And behind that door was, of course, a 5 and 1/2 minute hallway. As with several other posts, this is posted to the Network as it appears here. Feel free to find Cain, to pass by him, to talk to him via Network or in person. Mmm typography. Now, please excuse me while I put "Haunted" by Poe on loop--Ed.]
This door had been here before, but this door was not here now.
This door had been here before, but this door was not here now because the reason for the door had disappeared, and so the need for the door had disappeared as well.
This door had been here before, but this door was here now.
The
real
prob
lem
as
far
as
Cain
can
see1,
whi
ch
is
not
very
far,
is
that
this
hall
way
is
un
fam
il
iar
and
was
not
pre
sent
be
fore.
Together with what he immediately recognizes
as the landing of a flight of stairs
or a mezzanine, as though he is in the
Opera Abandoned, but wandering in the dark.
There is a Grand Staircase.
which really
should be
impossible
so far in.
but as he did this thing, as he moved farther in, as he freed himself from the hallway, with no expectation of arriving at the previous destination of the doorway, there came over him for the first time in the day an odd sort of peace. Usually at a time like this, outside of panic, inside of a situation, the most one felt was annoyance, like that for an insect buzzing around for too long. One has to obliterate its life, and the physical effect, the obviousness of the act, the knowledge that this is only one unit in a seemingly infinite series, that killing this one won't end it, won't relieve one from having to kill more tomorrow, and the day after, and on, and on. The futility of it irritates and so to each individual act one begins to bring something of the savagery of military boredom, which as any trooper knows is mighty indeed.
This time, it isn't like that. Things seemed all at once to fall into a pattern: a great cosmic fluttering in the blank, dark ceiling2, and each wall, each step, each corner, each invisible molecule of chilled air seemed to shift imperceptibly so that this darkness and he slid into alignment, assumed a set symmetry, a dancelike poise.
It had only to do with the destroyer and the destroyed and the act which united them, and it had xxxxx been that way before.
Just as its own loose sand is licked away by the cold tongue of a current from the North/South, a coast begins to devour time the moment one arrives. It offers life nothing: it is stones; its soil is arid; salt-bearing winds, chilled, sweep off the sea to blight anything that tries to grow. There is a constant battle with the fog, which wants to freeze everything, down to the marrow of bones. The sea is gray, the sea would consume the stones, and that is the only food offered, save for desperation and offerings2 made in desperate times and in dark times3.
Why not endless till the farthest star? Darkly they are there behind the light, darkness shining in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds. By day in the midst of a lighted City beside a livid sea, unbeheld, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars. He would hrow this ended shadow from him, manshape ineluctable4, and call it back. Endless, would it be his, form of his form? Who watches him here? Who ever anywhere will read these written words?✓ Signs on a white field. Somewhere to someone in a soft voice, veiled in darkeness: veil of space with coloured emblems hatched on its field. Flat could be seen, but one can then think distance, near, far, flat, East, back.
Instead, he falls back suddenly, frozen in stereoscope.
Click does the trick.
Some may find his words dark, but darkness can be in the soul, shame-wounded by sins, clinging yet more, as a woman to her lover clinging, only all the more. Dark languages rarely survive.
Direction is difficult at best6
when
one
doesn't
know
nwod
morf
pu.
The worst dreams (nightmares), typically, take place in darker surroundings, regardless of the details of the dream as they relate to the particular mind or subconscious of the dreamer, an idea explored in great detail by both Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung. Some speculation regarding particular the darkness inherent in nightmares has been said to stem from primitive human fears relating to darkness and the night. Due to the relative weakness of human vision in low light, since rods and cones do not carry the same photon information and are disproportionately distributed in the ocular organs, and the relative weakness or helplessness of human beings in the face of larger or other predators, the fear of "something in the dark" which is so prevalent among children may, in fact, hearken back to the oldest of human fears. It is little wonder that such an institution as building shelter and houses might have developed so quickly among early humans, as forms of protection, as a means by which to delineate inside from outside, good from bad, safe from unsafe. That is, to fear the dark is a human instinct, and a sensible one in a situation in which what is in the dark, both in terms of predators and in terms of other physical dangers, is absolutely unknown. Hence, the poetic parallel of the darkness and the unknown, but perpetually cast in a negative light because of the presence of this human instinct. Consider one such dream: a young dreams of his own birth, which is a nightmarish image, if a child can call such an image up, but with the revelation that he was an unwanted pregnancy carried to term, whether this revelation is true or not. He observes the scene as it plays out in half-light and darkness, and the other figures speak little, if at all, and make mention only of the "calamity child," or "the embryo of the cursed bloodline," or of "black wings." Although human beings begin existence in darkness, in the womb, with parents likewise often embracing first in the dark, darkness thereafter becomes something to be feared, suggesting perhaps that the Freudian interpretation is the better of the two4. The truth is that it's a matter of perception; the object precedes the reflection, the shadow precedes the object. They are one another's object, and thus subject unto themselves. It's a beautiful idea, but it doesn't work.
1. Night Vision: visual capacity in faint light, as at night. This ability is considerable in certain animals, other than humans, which are adapted to living in darkness or situations of low light. Familiar animals are cats, owls, bats, and raccoons.. Also, Night Blindness: reduced visual capacity in faint light, as at night. See also; Night Watch.
2. I[m]mum Coeli. A Latin term meaning "the lowest part of the heavens," often wrongly applied to the cusp of the 4th house, which in many chart systems falls on the Northern angle of the horoscope figure: see Midheaven. The IC (as it is often abbreviated) is sometimes called the Anti-Midheaven.
3. See also; Black Mass.
4. "Meanwhile, the Worm is far from idle, having immediately begun, in that Womb of wet stone, to grow,--local people hear it thrashing about, and the bravest, as they peer down into the echoing dark, may almost see it. Soon, the water has acquir'd an unpleasant taste, metallic, sour, heavy with a reptilian Musk. Buckets let down do not come back up, creaking noises are heard at night as the well's Casing is brought under some enormous Force,--till one morning, as the Sun rises, so up over the Rim of the Well, appears a great blazing pair of Eyes, the closely set set, purposeful eyes of a Predator. Slowly, with no appearance of effort, it begins to ascend from the Well, accompanied by a terrible, poisonous odor,--flowing up over the edge--indeed, it keeps come for longer than it should. Everything living in the area, including the vegetation, stops what they're doing and attend. The Worm seems quite hungry. Taking its time, the Work proceeds to one of the Batts or Islands in the River, where it sets up its base of operations. Its needs are simple,--Food, drink, and the pleasure to be had from killing. It eats sheep and swine, drains milk from cattle nine at a time--the number nine recurs in the Tale, tho' the reason is dark,--and careless dogs, cats, and humans are but light snacks to it. Around it, a circle of Devastation appears, pale and soil'd, which no one enters, and which the World must keep shifting , for, a little at a time, as it goes on widening,--the Worm each day venturing a little further from its base, till at length the circle of terror advances to include a direct view of the Battlements of Lambton Castle itself, the final sanctuary, surely inviolable,--although the people in the Castle dare not try to organize an exodus, for the Worm when it must can travel at great speed, faster than horses can gallop,--they have watch'd in terror many Chases to the death across the Tide-Plain below, as, once alerted, the Work has easily cuty its Victims off in the open, far from any refuge or escape." Heri La Fougueuse, "The Worm or Werym," Annus Mirabilis or Some Observations on Nature
5. "Ineluctable modality of the visible: as least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, maestro di color che sanno. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it, it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see." James Joyce, "Proteus," Ulysses
6. Imperfect Signs: These are Leo, Virgo, and Pisces, so called because (according to Abdul Al-Hazred, at least), "those born under them, and with bad aspects, are deformed in some way or other." These are also called the "Broken Signs" and "Mutilated Signs." To these Hall adds Cancer and Capricorn. Sumomame Juvesa. As Morin de Villfranche noted at the end of his life, despite his intense suffering with the latter stages of syphilis, "This cannot be all there is to life because in our confrontation with an enormous and cold universe there's something comical to the idea that we can really enforce our will on humanity. Power corrupts. It's your world. Do with it what you want. No, that's not the way to do it. Power. That's not the way to do it. Paradox. No. It's your world. No. It's your world. No. It's your world. No. It's your world. No. Controlling."
[ooc: Cain found a new door where a magic door that Megumi Yamamura had created (it vanished when she left the City) that linked his room and her apartment had once been. And behind that door was, of course, a 5 and 1/2 minute hallway. As with several other posts, this is posted to the Network as it appears here. Feel free to find Cain, to pass by him, to talk to him via Network or in person. Mmm typography. Now, please excuse me while I put "Haunted" by Poe on loop--Ed.]
ahahahaha GET OUT OF MY HEAD <3 except not really ilu lots
I AM WITH YOU ALWAYS >:3
Where are you?
I guess there might be a room available.
Oh good. I'm sick of staying in the Dolphin Hotel.
Bullfrogs I can handle, I am not certain there's room for a dog.
But-- are you all right?
I come with four finches, only
it's a deal.
Excellent~
I should have had foresight enough to bring a spool of thread or a ball of string with me. I didn't expect to find myself in a tunnel--a hallway, really.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Let me see if I can find it for myself.
no subject
no subject
I'm not at all certain how that was put on the Network.
no subject
no subject