Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in gm000's LiveJournal:

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Friday, July 4th, 2008
1:24 pm	Jugar Sunset twilight. The sky is that quiet grey-blue that lightens to a warm white in the far west, occasionally lit purple-orange with series of brush stroke cirrus stratas. In this atmosphere of minced words they have great full-on penetrative sex. In the center of the rhythmic movement of their bodies her memories make vision, mind traveling, to a distant mental destination - the far side of a yellow wheat field, where there is a gap in a dried hedgerow, a small rise of grass and a tarmac road that runs the field's western length. He finally leans in to kiss again. She goes for that kiss, then the hug and the groan. Yet down in her tantric-fueled imagination to the south there is a small dark woodland copse, which borders a larger wilderness. Going here, moving the mind's eye, she goes into this pitch darkness. But then her head droops down in resignation of the weight of fear, and so pulls her cardigan up off the floor, strewn there at the start of their lovemaking. She sits up on the bed, turns around to redress and after a gracious exit walks in the direction of the nearby train station. She strolls around the nearby park to kill some time. Staring at her reflection in the lake she admires and sways in her slim, pretty A-line pencil skirt & red cardigan. Train arrives and then into town where she's always loved the hardworking pace and yet has also been a bit of a maverick that creates a whiff of tension in the office. Traveling by bus, bright red with banner adverts of Fashion labels, holiday destinations and invited cinema visits for the latest horror movie. She sees this, quicken her pace considerably as she disembarks the bus. Soot-coated stone and past sudden sun-catching steeples. Fly posters slapped on wet walls in Camden, band logos & text fonts in childish script, depict synchronized images of woodland animals and other creatures (a couple are very ambiguous pics of wolves / dark shapes - but more than one are highly intelligent Baphometic pictures of a WOLF MONSTER). Walking down to Hottentot Court and around ducking and weaving through Soho town & Oxford street she walks into a New Look-Topshop and spends a great deal of time strolling along one of the long pathways between the rows of clothes. Down back alleys of accessory stands and up thoroughfares of gorgeous garments from fashion's dribble-down. As she walks the clothing rows, something large and dark slips into the clothes store from the street like a crocodile sliding into a watering hole. Into the Tate Modern gallery she goes to see fascinating paintings, bemusing sculptures and dreamy conceptual pieces. She makes her way slowly through the new central exhibition in the middle floor of the gallery. Up to the member's bar to order a Martini glass filled with vodka & triple sec with crunchy-iced lime and cranberry juice. She looks over her shoulder, gasps and begins to sprint. Next day she's sitting down at a restaurant for lunch and with a thunderclap of fear she has another panic attack when it leers in from a big open window and so again she runs from the malign creature. She just makes it by getting into the busy Underground, scrambles up the Bank station and out onto the road. Walking along the River to get back her calm she feels 'it' is following her. She walks faster. She does not turn around, just b-lines for Royal Festival Hall, banging into passers-by. Only then does she turn around... To an empty embankment walk... Classic bluff. That night, during a game of "Risk" with friends, she has an insight about the creature: it's her nature, our nature, it's the nature of that lush park over there, it's the nature of that ancient stone in these tower block foundations and the red bricks in that office wall... Up on the Primrose hill beyond the Regent's park zoo she half-steps towards the mind's eye field again, her hand outreached to telekinetically fly over the 200m+ hill park, using the Force or Chi. The animals distantly squawk and shake their cages. The sun comes out before the hillside, and illuminates the dense urban vista. She is ascended, transfigured by the solar light. Deep under the London soil and bedrock it stirs. As above, so below; anchor and vessel. She tears a hole in reality and in turn it shreds the universe. (Comment on this)
Monday, May 26th, 2008
2:38 am	Peace & Calm in the Virginian City of Edgerunning I recently bought and read the Cyberpunk 3X Alt Cult book (RTG1@talsorian.com) on the Edgerunners whilst eating salad of Crayfish & Avocado on the corner of St Martins Lane and Long Acre in the big Pret cafe you can see across the road when waiting for your honchos outside the Hippodrome. Loved the Richmond Enclave chapter in "BEYOND THE EDGE". IIRC They serve nice waffles in the central city cafe. I recall good service, like an authentic 'Ed's Diner' bfr (sic- 'But-For-Real', Globalization done OK but not quite getting that ol' Postmodernity replication of the 'True Identity'). Inside the actual hill area itself the city celebrates E.A.Poe's house with a nice museum. Now I personally have never seen this museum in person. Makes sense I suppose that the HQ of Militech is thereabouts too. By which I mean the buttery cream of the Washington D.C. power grid flows right past it, like an island in the river. I imagine everyone thinks that too. So anyway you render up Richmond VA into Second Life and it suddenly looks like a leafy cybercastle, a Camelot of the skyscrapered 21st century Not tangential but after I visited the recent Edgar Allan Poe exhibition in Hoxton Sq and Town hall a ready-made formed itself into a Socratic challenge: What would you do on E.A. Poe yourself? But the projection I have in my mind of the interior, I can half-speculate and muse on now- http://www.poemuseum.org/ http://www.whitecube.com/exhibitions/poe/ http://www.mytimesdispatch.com/index.php/slbeat/story/buildit/ Now I have an self-conscious 'act', which is that of "Clive Herbert, Horror Writer". He's sorta Louis 'TJ' Boukman-does-Garth Marenghi (http://www.garthmarenghi.com/) in a the shape of a behavioral-routine that is very deep at my core non-being. In fact, it is my basic boot up default identity (due to near continuous adolescent Lovecraft gaming too). Consequently I wander through London with that head on most days. A part of the personality of this magical identity I regularly play is that he thinks he knows all about 'The Horror Genre', having lived under Stephen King's shadow his entire life and somehow avoiding reading any single King novel; despite this fliddicap he battles on reading through all sorts of Horror back histories and obscure but fabulous horror fiction. The "Clive Herbert" in me, thinks that the whole Richmond Virginia 3X route has some strong merit. Smutty git. So anyway I'd go for ... Psyke Zenobia. Signora Zenobia... Magic. She's already kinda Cyberpunk, all that getting eye-gloppingly close to the Other side: http://www.pambytes.com/poe/stories/predicament.html http://xroads.virginia.edu/~HYPER/POE/blackwod.html: Current Mood: horny (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, May 2nd, 2008
4:36 am	Mycenaean Red Sky [Tiptoeing into & around the intellectual property of APRIL SCOTT®] Was it so bad I have forgotten any real truly sticky detail, like a revelation sealed up in packing material and sent to some cold archive deep in my back brain. Still, me and him, we go waaay back to some distant classroom in High school. Quietly with a chainsaw! What then felt like high over the tennis court and back gardened hills of our small ancient city. Teeth-chattering shivering, we endured. Clouds ruffled in the far Los Angeles skyline in a brief pungere drift of synchronistic delight. [Exhibit/Prop A: A photo of skin, close up, good lens, you can see goosebumps and rigid hairs. Someone is evidently cold in this photo, high probability of shivering.] The Pulse of Digital flashes once then twice. I laughed, an enlightened echo bouncing off the white wall, for by Yhoundeh the elk-goddess, I had seen the truth; Carcosa was coming. I may recall one of these sunny days, and that memory may make me pull over the car and hrǣcan. In myth the Trojan survivors would later become the Roman Empire, the NovaTroia of the giant-fighting Britons, the original bloodline of the Viking gods of the Prose Edda and plant all their strange maze patterns and standing stones across the New Hyperborean world. City founders. We all turned into momentary blissninnies as our images went 'straight' up into the high spiral-arms of corporate data; those corporate besuited and oiled engines of the mega relays trans-California dreamhub. I looked over longingly at Arturo Pérez-Reverte's "La Carta Esférica" (my hardback copy an English translation: The Nautical Chart). Wonder of the Internet Age. It seemed as if the fleeing Trojans had, in leaving the shelter of the inner seas of the Aegean and out of the Med, past the mythical 'Pillars of Herakles', or by whatever Bronze Age name they had for that small gap between the interzone of Tangier and the dinkytoy Woolworths of the monkey-infested Gibraltar Rock, out into the Atlantic and then to what would today be Spain, Portugal, France, Britain and off into all those Scandinavian sailing seas. G-Star Gnosis Brain-burger Media Outlet; a Subdivsion of Cosmic Conceptual Metamorph Systems presents. I stared at the musty yellowing scrolls, numerious papyri, and my note papers I that had arrayed before me. Current Mood: quixotic (Comment on this)
Friday, March 30th, 2007
10:14 am	Dodge This So I'm aboard a futurist Bullet Train, one of the brand-newer models, it's fabulous, like land sailing. Try in your mind to move around these imagined somethings like furniture in a doll's house if designed inside an old green-screened Apple trying to render 3D Studio 'virtual' world shapes (no mouse or lightpen interface): Big sox-wearing girls, well-lit drinks vending machines, cats eyes lights illuminating the clean streets, taxi doors that open themselves, the swish at 300 km/h (186 mph), druidic thirty-third-oldest Inari shrine with a pretty Sufi Saint-lady and fox guardians, solar powered bike-lane posts, accessories on women and bowing in trains. I'm mostly reading a book. And my mate suddenly does a Nixon rebirth. Freaky. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, March 2nd, 2007
1:59 am	Stasicatcher Dusk clouds puffing past in a red-tinted armada The ancient round tower of Vlad Tepes, dense with nooks and crannies The Xanadu Octagon virus stretches the horizon far to the West Warm water wave generator swimming pool Money Spinners (Six main global currencies) access broken brainpatterns, inoculating the microtrauma Westminster fills with neo-Nazis and the four mummified bodies of the Third Reich's high command Rain plunging down the glass towers, splattering plastic ponchos and saturating the dry concrete Getting too old for Drum & Bass, now sounds made for tricked-out rides with flat screen TVs Deny the enemy of the resource The head of the giant Hitler robot is knocked off and skitters across the marble floor Rifle loopholes made ready A muscular David Bowie, dressed as a Samurai, goes through an elegant kata with an electronic handfan Parallel universe Oerg "Futility" Here's the author of that Book of the Four Roleplayers, one of whom will pilot the B2 Stealth Bomber Opposition overextended and exhausted Order a full English Breakfast Antennae raised on triangular tiers The weaving Spiders observed; it is how they stay still that the actors cannot mimic Secret Police Work investigates the Steroid degrees Sajid appears and gives a hug Standing off and sinking the fleet Peter Griffin takes up the whole window seat in the aircraft Digital Kanji brushes of the Edo period Stone interlockings, huge and Aztec-like Combating the Honeytrap Breeding Program Misdirected and confused foe Glowing Vévès expanding fortifying inner-bailey killing zones A rough tide of Juju logick smashing up against the cliffs in white spume Dropped into context, the Geishabot-16 Voudon Eulis-mecha comes online Lightening bolts branching out in dazzling trees of retinal-burning light Using her efficacious sorcery Takiko bows low Ritual excellence through the puffs of gunpowder and haze of blood "The Mind can be sliced off using the psychic katana; but the Heart requires something radioactive" Accurate and Precise, the Butcher's bill spills and unrolls (Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 20th, 2007
2:56 pm	Kepi The Magickal effects of wearing a Confederate Cap around London- William Wilberforce monument's glittering yellow tiles CSM students chatting over coffee Two closed shops filled with plasterdust air Richard Dadd's Osiris patricide A mindset of defense Borough of Holborn Slight paranoia Three psychedelic ladies in lacquer Light rain Thank you very much sidewalk manners Worry of implied racism The silver shoulder-rank Naval doorguard Sandwich Staff Wanted AKA (not The End) Embarrassment Fly Me Away Bicycle couriers chatting Sacred Hunger MMO Sense of warfare Falling passport Fear and anxiety Solar and Luna Squared Stonewall Jackson airs Black or White coffee? Being who you really are HMS Illustrious at sea Rebel feelings Machen's ghost of a ghost (dogwalking) Illustrator solidarity Ars Londinium Security blanket Offering to Oshun Social phobias Coldsore compress Massive social anxiety Tony Blair during the power crisis Comic books knowledge Marvel's Civil War The Battle of the Nile - the technique of coming alongside on the unexpected starboard side (Comment on this)
Saturday, January 27th, 2007
2:59 am	tHRU the Astralnet {sychonanalyst} There are puzzles that must be solved- about this game, this game world that appears to be a huge puzzle. www.we-make-money-not-art.com/ The same old complex situation of skirmish, Exciting change brought around by confrontation, Pocket coin tossed into the air. Lottery patience a hysteria of the struggle. Giant engines wildtime brooding power. Hunger of mêlée and Huge rivets. What do our consciousness become after we die? Your Biogenetic memory is passed on Communion Projections into the unknown Mental merging Of the mind’s visionary abilities and breakthroughs Exciting divinity We still do not know beyond our Artist’s visions; and what religious texts and scientific doctors tell us. Meeting in Heaven What in the world is the secret of Alchemy? Doing it now on Earth via a process of Gnostic spells Psychic connection Whips and prices. Harder to love Ice-citadel of Yikilth, Mountain of Yarak – Aphoom Zhah. Whittled wood statues. Perversion I had never had a chance to catch That slight self-deceiving sliver, A chink of light. Religious Doctrine Here come the Prussians your Grace. What do you mean? Fornicate & Hard sex; sex is hard THE Al- KHEMIKA ENIGMA Treasure Present Gift BOX 12 Washing feet is my speciality I was asked to do a 7th Sea meets the Battle of Waterloo scenario for a one-off convention tournament.... A Great mystery that must be solved. Yet I have no idea how to proceed... So I thought I’d ask the Creator-God of that world for aid and advice... He said make it all up as you go along. For Priests and others Toads croak in the swamps. What is the Current Great Mystery or the Mystery of Mysteries? I was advising Russian factory directors. The Blowjob Zaljis his friend. Slave and Master, Dom and Sub. A slow dance in Marie Laveau Country. Eyes flashing with passion. Shrimp Remoulade & just one more dance. What do you want me to mean? We step off the cliff into the void, Zero arcana. Easy to Love The closing off of that possibility again for a much more auspicious one. Insects in all their glory The bigger picture may be darker, Bleaker and final; and yet the sky will be huge, more massive than it has ever seemed before. The Borg Hivemind The priesthood of Mithra in Brythunia, A country of the Hyborian Age, Might have preserved a copy of the Book, But if so it has been lost… 7-of-9 Hope of Synchronicity. “Blow up the damn ship Jean-Luc!” Magical Machine Engine: Psychodramatic Alaya Time Energy 2 (TE2) ================= (Comment on this)
Monday, January 22nd, 2007
12:20 am	Roleplaying Thoughts Sent from Oerg33@LCN.com, Patricia Brigitte Jodoin A quote of hers:-"My name will go down in infamy! The rule is to stick with something once you decide it". (1D8) -1.- The Woodsman existentially acknowledges the psychedelic situation they already know The wash of engines Sweat & sourness aches at the end of the day The snare drums of combat beat A shift of Venetian dreams flickers Vivandiere of the Irish brigade stands close The condition of the distant horizon stretching out Hornets of bullet embody the fear of the others -2.- The Woodsman is up the psychedelic mountain & holding the high ground Gloaming’s long twilight shadows twinkle Delicacy shimmer of blaspheming righteousness You are dealt a Royal Flush Thrumming erotic charge of the Grand Hôtel des Morts Sinister hauntings -3.- The Woodsman is speaking psychedelic poetry by the sacred well Gulls & ravens wheel overhead With sublime otherness and chilling grandeur A star map for navigation laid out on the table Stark breathtaking line of the distant Blue Ridge Mountains Four chances to take -4.- The Woodsman is card reading whilst psychedelic fucking a broken glass project A hearse prowls the streets Swell of panic & beauty Dustbone sacrifice pile pollutes the river Gloss & matt swirls 649,739-to-1 probability here -5.- The Woodsman is stranded in the psychedelic far past Amongst bronzed & tanned Utopians Wonder given terrifying human shape A method-engine creates a succession of insightful plotpointing material In pearlescent-sheen dewy blush Washed of the Devil -6.- The Woodsman is stuck in psychedelic mud Feels their flap of the heart Exuberance and intoxication of the downright spellbinding Wrought iron cross crowns the crucifix In tack & spangle A precariousness lifestyle lived through high altitude criss-crossing contrails -7.- The Woodsman has heartache for crisp caramelized crust psychedelic black ham po-boy A close-weather wisp gilded like gold Given an authentic sense of the moment Shot and round peppered Lychnis Floscuculi in self-portrait Nearly over a certain brand of Futurology Sialam exaltations by the Confucian order of fascists -8.- The Woodsman is lost out of their original time period Longstreet’s psychedelic chronometer showing the world turns out there Silhouetted by the full moon Spider by a bunch of gerberers spins a multicoloured web Expanse and vastness The last ‘hoorah of gallantry’ (Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 3rd, 2007
2:38 am	Aubreyad 2007 Cleverer returns of Nautical fiction http://oceans.greenpeace.org/en/take-action More powerful; So disappointed be will you. The Byrom Blake archetype-complex “Blow up a kiss at the camera –Stronger; Strike an attitude… Better…Lord Admiral Nelson’s mistress Lady Emma Hamilton used to strike ‘attitudes’; like an artist’s model posing as a goddess… Like Madonna’ Voguing dance moves… Do you think you could do the same thing? Strike an Attitude… Richer!” “Time era - Dear Steven, I'd say, I have been obsessed with the US Civil War and was delighted to hear you were considering a Lincoln biopic; in fact I watched Ken Burn's American Civil War DVD on hearing you were using it as a source. Espionage is working for the Others, Most Haunted redone via Torchwood; Ancestral memory and the rift - This lead me onto much greater immersion into the material, literary and visual; sonic as well as melodic.” “Deep Deadly Subs Walk seductively around - Why doesn't it work?” “Can't fool the children of the revolution; I got to drive around some battlefields in the Deep South”. “I love it when you dance; show us your moves for ‘Call of Cthulhu’; Bump & grind a bit; really very exciting; Goodfellas…. Best thing on the TV schedules 'Love is the law, love under will'. It’s crazy we’re all caught up in this new type of television; Jimmy Corrigan; I never thought I’d watch anything like this before Blockade Runners; If you’d described it to me I’d have had a double-take – ‘you what??!’” “Hello… I must declare to you that I feel Mr. Liam Neeson is not quite my idea of Honest Abe, gravitas and height aside; Nice to talk to you; Can you not find an American actor of similar stature to play him?” “Beautiful stuff, like a Geisha dance; yours sincerely, Respect that came with starvation and decapitation”. “That looks like a fabulous job you’re doing … He was nice in "Love Actually"”. “Amazing how great someone can look without going into more risqué waters… So ‘Joy of the day’ and good luck with your venture”. “You look good - But that's not what the series is about...” “Very attractive - If you have an interactive division of Dreamworks doing work on Lincoln like that old 'Medal of Honor' series, please could you get them to do a Abraham Lincoln verses the Black Hawk dogsoldiers game?” (Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 22nd, 2006
8:22 am	Impending Fears of Universe B According to Spear-of-Destiny an angry mob really destroyed the New Messiah. Stood next to the automated mammoths in Cardiff’s Museum of Wales, she lights up a small cigar. Oil painting. She waits in the shadows of the false rock face. A few days later she is on Loop 101. Flag. An Angel Stalker Adventure; A:.A:. Arch-Sorcereress of the Scarlet Council. Where Pascal Beverly Randolph lived, working clothes were life-support gear. The Machine was dismantled and transported hundreds of miles to his small town laboratories - my friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings. The general director said that ‘Making the landlord and the tenant the same person has certain advantages, as that the tenant pays no rent, while the landlord does a little work’. This would have been an exciting conclusion to a story that seemed headed for an anticlimax. Assassination that sent ripples around the world (See the world's largest windmill . . .) In other words, if Lady Jessica's romance was true, then the forces she evoked were much larger than the individual artist: the imagination we discover working in this hermetic cartoon does not, as she once said, "stop where my imagination leaves off." She turns on and talks into her mp3 recorder: “Arizona 51 (the Piestewa Freeway) connected downtown and central Phoenix with north Phoenix and Paradise Valley, and connected with the aforementioned Loop 101 at its northern end”. “I am tracking the side effects of John Fitzgerald Kennedy’s Camelot; its faded and ruined arms trade projectile joust turrets a romantic rubble gathering moss all across the globe. Body splash, jets taking off from aircraft carriers - Altitude: 162.2 x 100 statute miles Inclination: 32.54 Orbits: 3 Period: 88min 29sec Duration: 0 Days, 4 hours, 55 min, 23 seconds Distance: 75,679 statute miles Velocity: 17,544 mph Max Q: 982 psf Max G: 7.7” “The manager of the West was in an undressed game of miniature golf. ‘Gated drum', a DJ of Dynamic Productions set 5-2 tomcats. Along with their usual tasks, the young monks at Sera Mey were inputting rare and crumbling woodblock sutras onto cheap XTs”. The little helicopter flew in to see an unbuttoned production of Hamlet, like the Robert Powell version Peter Sellers and Ringo Starr see in “The Magic Xtian”. The managing director of INEVIT, the ex-Soviet firm with which our Prime Market Unit had a joint venture in celebrity processing that final countdown. Especially when he is naked, you see Bluebeard's treasure. Dig for Maximillian's gold. Sapphires. A representative from the Bacchanalian scene of Mitsubishi A-1s took her to the Archive stored offsite in a climate-controlled warehouse. The famous female artist that supplies them with ‘the meat’, the 36.8 billion-dollar-valued Lieutenant General of a Control firm that does CCR’s geometry working diamonds. Zen disguise. All the commands for the virtual reality were laid out in neat rows. Soon from the sea a noxious birth began; forgotten lands with weedy spires of gold; the ground was cleft, and mad auroras rolled down on the quaking citadels of man. She shifts in her chair. “No famous fat New Orleans hat, a whole occult college hidden inside. Hang gliding in the buff. So the lodge that has emerged through my acquittal is composed of the following; Santa Ana's lost wealth. No hat. She is innocent, my Elizabeth," said I, "and that shall be proved; fear nothing, but let your spirits be cheered by the assurance of her acquittal." “For the first time I know her name: Silver. Is she 'fit'? She was a historical personage left alone by the writers of bombast and peddlers of smut. I am Angel Stalker. Diffused temporal perception. Try the Miss Nude Teeny Bopper Contest circa 1989, in the Shelton’s Barn”. What was thrown on the cinema screen in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the eyes. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 23rd, 2006
8:14 pm	Sculpture in ideaspace Examine the ability to daydream & imagine - how far it stretched, what you know etc. Storytellers - the plot committee outside the spoon-fed-passive Cinemas and the cheapening DVD racks. Rules moderators under a gibbous moon, giving the choir a platform to sing from, to trust each other beyond the laws and contracts of pencils & paper. So dry and boring... A right to have visions of rising emotion - an explicit and detailed dissection of the meaning and mechanics. So infinitely dull... Interfaces of chances and hopes rewarded, the Game made afresh each time it is played; reforged. So slack... Narrativistic - exploring a theme of Beauty fulfilled, a country in the mind's eye, a project stretching in memory - trying to induce the catharsis that the Marvelous alone is beautiful. This -&/or- That... The human CPU, the computer A.I. made flesh, an improvising shepherd leading the blind; an Existential roleplaying game - the game we're all playing it right now anyway, and all the Past & Future. Gamesmasters are invisible or maybe not even there. True -&/or- False... Administrators of resources working with time - the best ideas are in the best games & vice versa. Fear & Courage... Naturally occurring post-academic psychoanalysis school/movement attempting to shed a tear of joy in a moment of eternity imagineering all your avatars - What power does Fantasy have in our lives, day to day? Inside -&/or- Outside... World-describers crying tears of happiness. Dynamic & Static... Investigating your Fears and Terrors; your own Neurosis & Psychosis. The divide between Light and Darkness, between Fantasy & Reality, between the Known and Unknown. Jugglers of possibilities - What are the limits of Knowledge? All those dualities and how we move between them during a lifetime/during an era, during a day/during a moment blah blah blah - you get the idea. Epistemological surfers; Multiple selves, multiple player-characters. How that division, that split, the schism, that in-betweeness becomes a psychodrama, a drama of psychological structure & psychoanalytic potential. Expectations of the fluid mutable and protean architectures of a future cyberspace. Select a duality, pick a side by deciding on what side of the fence you are, select a percentile 0% up to 50% for one side or more than 50% to 100% for the opposing value. Analyzing the efficacy of Aristotelian logic in practice. The sunken percentage that leads back/towards the middle is the contested ground, is the room for doubt, the space for maneuver. Directors of action with commercial pressures put aside: no interest in formal art or literature. The percentage is the Psychodrama's limits, the swing of the pendulum between extremes. Actors of characters in galleries, on wall-hangings, in bookshops & amongst publishers, learning interesting observations and theories; testing and experimenting with other ways. Žižek 's Parallax view metaphysic. Slavoj Žižek on Richard Sharpe series- bad Žižek impression- “He is the Green man ish pagan symbol of virility A walking phallussh and libido Portugal & Sshpain ish penetrated by him The Upperclasshesh azsh vagina Ssharpe fucksh the redcoat Officersh on a regular basissh A bit of rough, like Lady Chatterley’sh Lover, no?” Deciders of player-avatar's actions- What is this Reality? Lacan's Psychoanalytic vapourwares & mind tools. Sorting out dilemmas, simulating situations, modeling parts of the world and asking questions. Academic terminology and conceptual possibilities. Somewhere between, that chasm, the split, the both and the fuzzy logick’d maybe. The Screen's or Stage's expectations, previously dashed, now redeemed. ( My Strange US Civil War Roleplaying Game (Time Energy 2) ) (Comment on this)
Friday, April 28th, 2006
5:30 am	Sex trunk of Long-Term RAM Which way does the wind take you, what's the rudder say? Ignore the jest of Gulliver Swift (Downloaded/reified twice); a "V-for-Vendetta" vox pop gang, as I summoned EZRA "Cantos" Pound in the 2nd Hand Bookshop. Thanks for "Avalon" - it's been done already I suppose; and yet not with decent space ships. Annex Amsterdam Bottlenecks Scam Perplex Businessman Discotheques Billy-can Haulternecks Cannes Specs Hologram Quarterdecks Japan May 1st St. Woodward's Day Montage sequence of moving images of the new red dawn - a light orangey mist snaking over the riverbed, dragonflies & ladybirds on deep green leaves, flitting birds alighting on the wet mossy gravestones, yellow tulips in hedgerows beaded with rain, 3/4ths-built Wickerman silhouetted on hilltop, vector-perspective shots of Guernsey brown cow herds munching the damp grass, cars setting off to jobs, the startlingly bright dawn sun illuminating the whole wide light blue sky with scattered flecks of deep red, peach and yellow. What do you do now? Teleport sub-molecular transportation-riding the beam via a satellite uplink to the nearest Combat Zone built amongst these Ancient monuments to hidden Warsaw hillside gods that history have long forgot the true names of; during the Pompeii Sunset on the Roman Empire; the Age of Eagles world wise now in WW2 Panavision surround-sound holy war movie. Here to the Ages of humble mankind all made Special Forces in Stalingrad. Blind J.L.Borges is now building a new computer, long before the charioteers arrived and the Ice shelf receded. Thank God it's not compulsory or like going to jail. Nazi Eagles are catching the Wagnerian dying of the terrible digital-television-electric-Solar Light. It's all "Nightwatch"-cum-"Most Haunted" ectoplasmic. On the same day-or-24hr cycle he was summoned right inside my mind... Will he now appear like a self-replicating A.I.? Cheques Parallelogram Circumflex Clam Tex-Mex Caliban The ancient Anglo-Saxon church steeple with later-fitted clock marks 08.00 am. The wrought iron weather vein spins around at the same time; Something Wicked This Way Comes. What is the answer? I really do so like being the TV-watching audience in each subsequent "Big Brother" series = An outsiders perspective like the Zionist Freedom Fighters & anarchists with Moshie the Bolshevik & Molotov-chuckin' mad gang cityblok mob; maybe an Asylum Seeker Camp TV Channel might be a good idea, all in some sewer-tunnel complex post-"Matrix 3- Revolutions" style Viet Cong; all popping out like an origami sequence in the monk's mind. X caravan High-techs diaphragm Decks Ad Nauseam Convex Van Multiplex Spick & Span Oedipus Rex Trim Oran EXT. School Kids playing kiss chase in circles on the big school playground. Headmistress comes out and scolds them for it. 1ST CHILD: Oh miss... come on! It IS May Day... Only once a year! Head mother: You can't do that it's illegal. I shall have to call your parents you dirty kids. 2nd CHILD starts crying. The HM gives her a quick surreptitious but hard smack on the bottom and the camera follows them into the school it follows them around several corridors ad into a room. Where we SARAH GREY and the DOCTOR talking. The chip-swipe card stitched the door lock green and with an intake of air-conditioned breath he was barely even aware of, he strode through the pressurized entrance, smiled at the new receptionist and spoke his first caffeinated words of the day to another person: "Good morning Friends! I hope you have good luck today" he uttered and hearing a faint squeaky response from the well-meaning sexy woman on the front desk, and so he took the speed elevator to the 74th floor he worked on. SARAH GREY: You've got to be f*king kidding me. (Looks up, looks past DOCTOR and towards a shape freight-training towards them) DOCTOR PAUL GIDDINGS: Don't tell me you never enjoyed eating a rare steak. It can smell your menstrual fluid... NOW F*KING RUN! But which is which? Of the Sci-Fi film about the Mississippi Camelot-remixing-Ghetto Z.O.B (Downloaded/reified twice) Toulouse-Lautrec’s Bi-partisan Vex Ban Wrecks flash in the pan (Comment on this)
Friday, April 21st, 2006
3:41 am	LINCOLN Been here before; this is a repeat situation. In through the New York of Scorsese's Yankee insurrections of the 5-Points Street biz. Leaving this Midnight Archipelago of Londinium. A kinder wanker. In through the Middle Passage in vomit and shit and wrankling iron shackles on wrist and blistered ankle. Lost reclaims its archetype, returning to the info-sphere. Water splashes through a sky-blue slitted grill on slave ship deck, sailors aloft in the rigging and topsails pulling in for a squall. Going back soon to the island in the Pacific Oceans with the magickal HMS Surprise krewe. In through the '49er Gold Rush Chinese navy steam galleons shunting in oily flotilla across red-fan-shape sailed Junks-bobbing in dank Shanghai harbour to the bright (pre-Golden Gate) cliffs of the Point Reyes headland, to a 'Deadwood'-looking San Francisco, half-built and with lots of tents; more like an army in camp. All men are, to a fault and even to the exception to the rule, he's a bad-un too. Angela Carter's guiding Lwa Spirit Goddess form riding the astral leyline waves of Battersea. Think of the opening to the original "Monkey Island" game's Scumm Bar. London ->pirate<- meaning "scoundrel". Battersea Power station (disused) area; don't trust us, we're drinking grog by the light of the face-slapped Jolly Roger. 1864 Drinking rum with a [pirate yo-ho] friend; a nasty tavern scene, drinking rum with a friend; very Dickensean. Poltergeist beats rumbling the floors. An Inconstant Lover by the light of a Taylor's saloon. (Comment on this)
Saturday, February 11th, 2006
2:49 am	Ministry of Intelligence in the Core worlds "How W'rin Bu Lai, Whai W'rin Bu Jwo". We start with the Serenity RPG. Time to do that game. An old Independence blockade runner & smuggler pal is sat onto of a stash of pure gold, like an Xbox 360. He's a real light sleeper. The heist was about waiting, counting the seconds, minutes and hours. Compulsions lead to becoming addicted to risk; trying to fend off mind-numbing boredom (which is weird, when there is so much to do). Think up a strategy. Patience for either my pal to descend to deeper sleep or go off to toilet. Not that drugged, drunk or exhausted by the looks of things. What's the reason? 'More of me to Love' on "N*ggers on Arks" - a Junglist soundtrack sounding out from the Imperial Gothic-style architecture of Londinum, the oldest planet terraformed. Friday night, for gawdsakes. Entities in the cracks hovering like weeds. Always has been. Always will be. Huge Clock tower/ the central glyph of a society where clockwork mechanisms are to be admired. Look at the concrete. How do you get in & how do you get out? Powerpalm sigil cast seemed to take too long... A more magick-friendly situation is a world where magick isn't even mentioned in the rules. Apart from that odd yīnyáng 陰陽 stuff, which only actually works if the GM decides so. Guard dog was still there. Nothing supernatural going down here then, no sireee. Nothing but the occasional ghost around here. I believe... ...In Ghosts ...In UFOS ...In Conspiracies ...In etheogenic visions of the Singularity ...In Ontological Gnostic prisons ...In Fairies ...That The South will rise again ...In the Landscape ...In Londinium ...In Bill Hicks ...In the power of Drum & Bass & dance Museum of History & the Museum of Art. Washington DC-meets-Forbidden City-like places. Interesting exhibits on display here: some of The Jade Emperor’s clay. A Kontomble cauldron from Grenadian presidential palace. A few Guild barter gems from Greater Zimbabwe. Arthur Machen's meerschaum pipe. Stonewall Jackson's personal bible. Heinrich Harrer’s pick-axe. The 'lost' Nag Hammadi papyrus scrolls. Sitting Bull’s Sundance headdress. A few things from dynastic Egypt made from Crocodile. An original Shingon Buddhist mandala wall hangings. William S. Burrough’s typewriter. The missing skull of Francisco de Goya. Pieces of Eva Peron’s coffin. Several mountain rocks from the Dagara shrines. Glitzy lights over the huge glamorous shopping precinct districts. Julius Russell Clarta Francais Bouenvenue and Anna Colonel GrooveRyder. A Haitian Revolutionary in Parisian Mysteries and the new Stephen King. Cool characters (keep them cool). It can be a psychodrama of movement. About Going Places. Travelling but the impossibility of movement. Understanding calculus. A sudden unexpected change of direction.. The Alliance flagship Victoria in Near Orbit high above us. The exact kind of player I’d like to play with is equipped with a certain lyrical carefree imagination that likes wistfully exploring this Shared Imaginal Space. The Elite Special Alliance Support troops @ their Hereford bunker base. I’m having as much fun playtesting and creating my ACWRP as doing that “The 7th Sea RPG campaign” about 5 years ago (which means it must be an Ojas-exchange network of people; so the concept has to be as sparkling, mind-boggling and perception-altering). Got given the mental strength to go off into the Black; but fate wants me on the ground. (Comment on this)
Friday, December 30th, 2005
3:31 am	BLACKEAGLE/BLACKEAGLE We’re now playing “Millennium’s End”, but in the present day 30th Dec 2005. Definition of Cool. Those overlay blast marker thingies. Faceless Special Forces types rubbing shoulders with Hackers, Shaman and Ex-Cops. Welcome back to Deadwood, son. Special Reconnaissance Regiment. Operating worldwide in this digital age. GCSE Art class - I quickly find I’m absolutely rubbish at life drawing, painting in any medium, photographic collage and probably sculpture if I ever did any. People look awkward in my stuff, composition is clichéd and lacks finish. No natural talent being expressed here, alas. M-16 A&E. Mxs. J28. D35 Dragon. I took it all as seriously as I did most of my other academic classes - as an annoying distraction from my real love, roleplaying games and their worlds. Excuse me whilst I hunt & shoot some heretics… Today, as we move towards the final release of "Pulp Cthulhu"; playing Xbox “Dark Corners of the Earth” and other 1st, 3rd and massively multiplayer games are on the rise everywhere, as we get ever more violent towards the Mythos, I look back at the earlier days with wonder. But that kind of massed warfare approach never seems to end a problem that could have been something worse - hard reality. The feel of a futile nihilistic shotgun is always the same in the hands of a regretful killer. Knowing too much about the Warp Gods (or faeries) is simply a double-blind test as are all of Lovecraft's Great Old Ones. The more you think-feel-read-meme-spiral dynamic about them the better that they can all find you in the world and insanity, mutation + cult activity usually follow for the investigator-player (who‘d rather be playing Vincent Baker‘s “Dogs in the Vineyard“). Those biohazard Tyranids & eldritch ancient Necron of the current WH40K are kinda fun in this twisted age of Cell phone-Camera-Citizens Text Message Journalists tracking Republican wars and eco-disasters . Laying out the cardboard pieces of a dusty, shell-pocked road like a non-digital roleplay version of Scalextric across the opening credits of this series - http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/peoplescentury/shop.html Imagine playing Scalextric in a world of wood but no electricity. The evolution, in roleplaying terms, of the old (classic?) Call of Cthulhu Investigator characters towards the 2001 Inquisitorial Warbands of Games Workshop's "Inquisitor" at least gives the players something solid & metal to shoot at across their “shared 'maginative space“ - that Sci Fi universe is wide open and ripe for Next Generation Roleplay Designers. The rulebook kinda prods old WHFRP fans in that direction; reminding you that Rick Priestley also wrote the excellent rules system of "Judge Dredd" which he tweaked for "Warhammer 40k: Rogue Trader" (see especially the contrast between VEHICLE RULES). This is long before we discovered Mike Pondsmith‘s oeuvre, btw. “Bladerunner” is what Inquisitor is aiming at - but we are also bringing in the “Grand Theft Auto“ fans from the console community of gamers too. The punches and aimed bullet shots of playing a Judge in that former 2000AD inspired game are as much a fond part of my early roleplaying history; an activity that evolved into the Agatha Christie 1920's we splattered with corrupting tomes, pulpy Untouchables-style shotgun fights and flailing tentacles popping out here are there. Strip the systems out of WH40K-RT, Judge Dredd, Runequest BRP, CoC BRP - both family trees - and look at the genetic parts. Select the crunchy pieces which produce mechanics for certain situations in-game; breathe nano-gas on them to start a forest of tubes, circle in red marker all the 2000 AD-style action sequences in your next campaign. Assemble a Frankenstein’s monster of your own Welsh role-playing game. Camera Man training for a glorified U.N. policeman. Offices in Miami and London. For any price - ‘No Job is too big, No fee is too big’. We exist as long as you are willing to go into any number of dangerous hotspots worldwide. The Broo Shaman Great God pan was in my grasp just before Xmas… Military Sciences - Hardware, Strategy & Tactics subskills given in return. Fly, Sail or Float around in Zero-G - Hope you come here to get armed. Kill the Orc? Can you be bothered? I sure did once upon a time, like a Global religion of the glimpsed wild reverie. Games Workshop as good ideas factory for all roleplayers; a lot of their stuff is a masquerade, I reckon. But Chameleon Eclectic’s game… We now become a Security Agency wrought of Charles Ryan‘s imagination; a Round table, no less. We provide security for VIPS. Kings, Queens and other Famous People, all over the world, just inside our heads. UpLoad me: Preparing the virtual spaces to do something socially unacceptable/risqué/very odd & freakily like roleplaying. Brokeback Mountain isn’t Place of Dead Roads enough. Driving music. Driving is boring; but not for certain minds. Professionals verses Artists. Preparing the space. I’m just not explaining myself properly. Play Space - but which games are being played? Let me make myself clearer so you may hear me. “Through the Loop” - Pendulum, Breakbeat Kaos - www.planetpendulum.com ( Caerleon on Usk Interactive Arts Degree Course 101: ) (Comment on this)
Friday, December 9th, 2005
4:52 am	Dragon's Dollar Well, well, well. What's the game? How do these freaks hang together? What's the collective escapism that'll join them? We start in the 41st Millennium; around the rings of Saturn. We then travel outwards until we taste the stars. Past the ancient chartered deep space Rogue Trader exploration-galleons. The Big Black. This crew doesn't get along with each other. They can't agree, see eye-to-eye, standing still in each other's company. Uranus young Macedonians. Neptune Karina fingersmiths. Pluto beastiality. Write a Gibson box. Rhetorical Gift of Collage Why the fantastic really exists and could exist quite normally ## QUOTE: >Cell T was setting up a Green Box. This was Delta Green's term for a >private-storage area used for storing useful supplies. Ideally, each major >city had a Green Box where departing agents could drop off valuable >resources, which future teams would access as needed. It was sort of a >junk stash, a place to leave leftover ammo, flashlights, batteries, or >what have you. In practice, only a handful of cities had Green Boxes, and >their contents were highly random. Some might have sniper rifles and >thermal-neutral suits that defeated infrared cameras; others might have a >stale sack of chips and a polymorphic corpse sealed in plastic. You never knew what >you'd find---assuming that the city you were in even had one. In the case of >Cell T, Memphis had no Green Box. So they set one up. Alphonse would keep >the keys and rental agreement, making regular payments and overnighting >the keys to future agents' motels before they arrived so they could get equipped. ## Astonishing Popular Gnosis of the "Burning Wheel" RPG. A quest for a woman; the perfect sexual relationship (i.e. masturbatory). An obession for survival in the power of the alphabet; magick of words (and the Spirits/Divinities/Scientific Sorcery behind them). Fanaticism enough to be killed by a Dark Young & an AD&D Dragon. A mania: Is it harder to game nowadays? *A fixation on Belief. Satin Dating. Ah, the best news I've heard all day. Dollymop Astrology; the joke's always gonna be on you. In a New York full-on. Take your kit off; but without ever getting exploited. "Mage: The Ascension"/Shamanism means going waaaaay back to the Stone Age with this. Alan Moore + Grant Morrison, with younger stance. Kaballa - Forming a mind-map; a mental landscape you can picture. Roleplayers burning up on their Karma; you are now paying for all those little sins, all those neurosis. South London - The Book of the Replicant Lwa. There is a certain slutty quality, a pleasure in the upset. The Occultist Abi Titmuss. Or worse in celebrity stakes, a drooping excuse for entertainment, which is to be expected on this channel. The Babalon Working. Illumination; you were looking out for her anyway, subconsciously. I have already seen it, so if it goes this way I can always remember. This 'Green Box' here is a 4mx4mx4m safe room located behind an old camera shop's storeroom; shop accessible from front and hidden side-street entrances. The safe room has a 11-character combination entry code, which changes every month; it also has a Chi-Gong Ch'i analyser, for believers in Taoist medicine. ( wHAT AN ABSURD NIGHT... ) (Comment on this)
Sunday, December 4th, 2005
1:12 pm	Chill EZRA PROVIDENCE CABOT - b.1631, Salem; died ? Has deep red eyes, face wrinkled, hair white, lips youthful. Even more powerful than the "King of Vampires" - Cannot cross unbroken line of salt, but can go around. Giles Cory, ex-warlock & common ghost. We swashbuckle with Rubber swords? The performance is in the hypnotic eyes. Imagine if he was played by a composite of Sting + Vincent D'Onofrio + Ben Kingsley + Christopher Lee. See the old Mayfair Games "Vampires" book. You've got to be kidding. Flying Masks jobs attached to jobs... Read out aloud for 2 minutes out of any book on Antietam Creek. Hold! Hold! BURNSIDE. Sunken rd rifle pit. A town landscape altered; a high street turned ridge of battlezone. What happened to Colonel Nathaniel Hill? ( Do you know who you are talking to, Sir? ) (Comment on this)
Sunday, November 27th, 2005
8:01 am	Text Sigil (- please launch at will...) We are dismayed by Brigit/Yolanda/Saffron’s departure, but we are determined to maintain her achievements and her vision for an independent organisation that serves the public above all else....The independence of the EBC was her pirate flag. In a moment of complete insanity this transmission. Good insanity or bad? In your 666. Come in 93/666/93. Contact through the internet this way... Al Amarja welcomes SAFFRON DOUGLAS? Devil-Childe, please respond. Atlantis HQ calling. CORPORATE WARRIORS FIGHTING SIDE BY SIDE. Voudon Gnostic; 1980s Kung-Fu style heavily reworked. Need Saffron; that French Milkmaid chic... Or Front Royal, VA chic, if you need to become closer to the NSA. Original temptation developed by maturation & masturbation; Eight Degree 'rite of solitude', in the regimental code of honour. Tantric Lipstick Handgrenades; Angela Carter rules. Cities hold unique perils, not least a heightened risk of being observed and betrayed. Helicopters were routinely used to provide tactical mobility and logistics. The precedent weighed heavily with the United States, Zouave regiment style; digital camouflage only. Rawk the Kasbah with General JFC Fuller! The following statement is from Emergency Broadcast Corporation 93FM employees, presenters, reporters and contributors. How on earth do I find Saffron? It was paid for by them personally, not the EBC itself. Saffron Douglas stood for brave, independent and rigorous EBC93 journalism that was fearless in its search for the truth. The Atlas Mountains, geologically an extension of the European Alps. Beyond, when not unbearably hot, is unbearably cold. Hammer House of Horror! www.skyscraperpage.com No nuclear missiles detonating, thank my Gosh. FLN23. In war, morale and public opinion comprise the better part of reality. Who suffers seeing oxen sleep on straw or eating grass? I blame Gandhi. Economic warfare. Neolithic neotic landscapes. Buffy the Vampire LESTAT Slayer/Sophia's Daughters needed. Just do an updated, denser, more digital-chaotic "Bladerunner" world, like a 5-dimensional Shinjuku on a rainy night. Legionnaires employing helicopters and air strikes. Pure liquid poetry. It’s a safer world we live in. CORP WAR! ( ”Sing-a-song-of-Saffron-a-pocket-full-of-spice” ) (Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 15th, 2005
4:16 am	Solar Scorpionix The dream memory crumbles shifts and sifts like dried soil through a sieve. The Apparitions - We don't exist. Do you want to see a ghost ship? Walls of rust. A spooky reminder of a long buried age. Archaic trestle tables and photographs; 'RECRUITMENT' signs and leaflets. A real, actual physical (ectoplasmical) ghost vessel. From the historical to the supernatural. Coming closer and closer to us. Conspiracy in Tokyo. Oh, yeah... Shinjuku dolphins in the bayous. It's so much more. Beeswax on Bourbon Street. Wal*Mart wonders. It's a Science-Fiction after-birth; organic sticky-cream rubbed on symbolically. Spindle-city-in-space. There is a whole lot of precognition involved. Sounds like the texture of the Wright Bros. Techno-psychedelic. Yellowing Harry Turtledove paperback novels. Rotten technologies; antiquated software and peeling paint. Get rough into the world. A bamboo basket of 18 goose eggs, 2 chicken eggs. You can write this nonsense, but don't expect anyone to enjoy reading it. Ghostship Battersea. A phantom ship. Sailing down these concrete streets. Decoding the pavement as it travels. A cloud of ancient cries bonded and fused into contemporary shapes. I already owned the means of production. Chronozonautical sibling incest caused by combat-grade psyk-gas. The universe should have ended then; it didn't. I owned a printer. The Mauve Zone, the Meon... Shores of another universe. Just an occurrence that allowed me into the Forbidden Zone. Something had died in there. Monkey Island's Scumm bar in selective text. And I knew more than a little juju... B1-66ER. People make genuine deliberate actions sometimes. A Southern Gentleman. Jodian gravity. A wet afternoon at the aircraft display. Washington DC. A vast computer motherboard set in stone and concrete. The relationship was formed by willed magick of meaning and invisible spirits. Still I wasn't getting published. A magickal love formed in the age of J. K. Rowling. Having fun. The old internet river. A maturing cross-gender group building on the interactive technology they have at their disposal. You have to become a solid Gamesmaster. Sunglasses; round and opaque. ( A brush up  ) (Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 1st, 2005
7:24 pm	"THE BLACK TEMPLARS" - THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAR IN BATTERSEA - Choose a character to play: High Marshal Helbrecht Chaplain Grimaldus St. John of Acon - Livery: Terrible Politics & Gravediggers - Famous for burying the dead. The Order has 200-300 members. "Trust in Herne to guide you". THE TEMPLARS IN BATTERSEA A local history project. A meta-structure to running "Thirty" in tournament games during conventions. Different adventures that explore the occult world maps (other than the Tree of Life spheres campaign). Time to go spelunking in the Tunnels of Set, maybe. ( UNDERGROUND RIVERS  ) (Comment on this)