Are we getting sick of that dragonhame quiz already?

We have trouble believing that a mighty & terrible Wyrm inhabits the heart of every little puny human. Also it occurs to us that Dragonhame has its very own community, & that those who wish to show off their inner dragon can do so there.

It's fun working with people who are not morons.

So here we were, happily hacking zombies to bits, when our friend calls & says he's been hit by a silver Taurus.

Our august person does not handle the sight of blood very well, but we have been able to keep that phobia in check masterfully. The trick, we think, is to consider every experience apart from its meaning.

We were able to resume the carnage for a shamefully large part of the day. We are now a 15th level Necromancer, on our way to destroy Andariel.

We find this to be rather extremely cool: http://www.h-r-z.hr/index_en.asp?news=290

So today we made the grave mistake of purchasing a used copy of Diablo II & our intellectual quotient has been significantly reduced as a result. Considering we're already a sixth-level Necromancer upon his third quest, the distraction shouldn't last exceedingly long.

Why is it that we've programmed complex interactive web interfaces, & presently we are incapable of writing valid PseudoHTML?

Perhaps because it's 1:00 AM. We shall see tomorrow...

A very odd, but frabjous, day -- with many old friends & new strangers, & completely unexpected things.

Boy, we sure wish we had a host for our website about now.

*sigh*

Bats fly noiselessly. Not gracefully, but noiselessly - something like scraps of paper borne on the evening breeze. Their movement has nothing of the blithe fleetness of birds; rather, it is indecisive & awkward, tracing eldritch patterns, black against black, backtracking, jumping, jolting.

The shadowy incarnations of unpredictability.

All ye people of the cloth: join the Ancient & Mystical Heterodox Order of St-Elmo.

C'mon. I'll give you Kool-Aid...

Order of St-Elmo

This is supposedly an analysis of our personality according to a computer drawing:

http://www.drawthings.com/save.php?id=15516

We would like to express our disatisfaction with the terminal appearance of the said image - it corresponds in no way to the original, in which the colours are more appropriately layered - as expertly as the primitive software allows.

Well, this certainly makes perfect sense:

http://www.timecube.com/

"Any <person> should know that a prime
meridian does not just pass through the
Greenwich point, but it also passes as a
great circle through both poles, crossing
the equator at 2 opposite points, dividing
Earth into 2 halves of light and darkness,
with each its own 24 hour rotation - in a
single rotation of Earth. You should know
that harmonic symmetry demands a
second great circle meridian to create
sunup and sundown corner quadrants?
There are 4 simultaneous 24 hour days
within a single rotation of the Earth.
You may be too damn evil to accept it."

How hard is it, exactly, to use proper syntax & spelling?

While it is not fair to demand eloquence -- or flair, or sophistication -- one is nevertheless in the right to expect a certain degree of coherence. & originality. Anyone with half a brain could come up with better material than the motorcycle story, or that dreadful "what would you do if you had me for 24 hours?"

GAH!

Here are three of our thoughts on messaging rule:

First, individual members should make up their own, & preferably formulate them in an original & intelligent manner.

Secondly, how many people have actually been asked to "cyber"? We doubt that most of the individuals who warn against this behaviour have ever received such advances, especially considering some of the pictures their presentations display.

Thirdly, restricting conversation topics is rather ridiculous. If one is incapable of steering conversation in a mutually enjoyable direction, one had better never engage in correspondance.

& now, for your personal enjoyment: http://www.cakepony.com/
The youngest ponies eating the hottest cake.

So we watched MirrorMask recently & although we were a bit disappointed with the rather incoherent nature of the plot - & the irregular pace - some ideas have really struck a cord. We have been humming "Don't let them see you're afraid" incessantly, & looking for windows to other, more McKeanean (or Gaimanesque) worlds.

Stolen from [Ilana], stolen from [Charybdis]. It is our view that none of the answers to these questions can be correct, as there is no means to take into account all the possible variables entailed by these interrogations & end up with a single, simple solution. We shall nevertheless condescend, & just this once, provide such answers as might be deemed "straight." Simple &, quite obviously, wrong.

If I were a month, I would be: October.
If I were a day of the week, I would be: Friday.
If I were a time of day, I would be: Dusk.
If I were a planet, I would be: Saturn.
If I were a sea animal, I would be: A horseshow crab. They have hemocyanin.
If I were a direction, I would be: Down.
If I were a piece of furniture, I would be: A round ebony table, used for tea-time, with a secret history of ritual functions.
If I were a sin, I would be: Pride.
If I were a historical figure I would be: the Conte de St-Germain.
If I were a liquid, I would be: All over the place.
If I were a stone, I would be: Obsidian.
If I were a tree, I would be: An oak.
If I were a bird, I would be: An owl.
If I were a tool, I would be: A stylus.
If I were a flower/plant, I would be: A nepenthes.
If I were a kind of weather, I would be: Ominously dark clouds over a crimson sunset.
If I were a mythical creature, I would be: We are a different mythical creature everyday, five days out of seven. On Monday we are a Sidhe, on Tuesday a variation on the theme of the Sphinx, on Wednesday the ghost of a suicided monk, on Thursday the Nephilim Barakiel, & on Friday we are a cryptid moth-creature. We take a break for the sabbath of the Jews & the Christians.
If I were a musical instrument, I would be: A shofar, or a psalterion.
If I were an animal, I would be: That's assuming "man" is not an animal, which is a false assumption. For the sake of this questionnaire, however, we would be a rhinoceros.
If I were a colour, I would be: Forest green.
If I were an emotion, I would be: Foreboding.
If I were a vegetable, I would be: A Pumpkin.
If I were a sound, I would be: A perfect fifth chord sung by two basses.
If I were an element, I would be: Antimony.
If I were a car, I would be: non-polluting.
If I were a song, I would be: Most of us is a song, or "Jumpers" by Sleeter Kinney.
If I were a movie, I would be: A Life Less Ordinary.
If I were a book, I would be written by: An anonymous genius of somber erudition.
If I were a food, I would be: We are food, or in the process of becoming food.
If I were a place, I would be: A rock strewn-shore in a foggy creek.
If I were a taste, I would be: Bitter (& cynical).
If I were a scent, I would be: Moist leaves.
If I were a religion, I would be: very dangerous indeed.
If I were a word, I would be: Eldritch.
If I were a body part, I would be: Something vestigial.
If I were a facial expression, I would be: Something unreadable.
If I were a subject in school, I would be: substantially older, & more interesting.
If I were a cartoon character, I would be: less likely to cause children ceisures than most.
If I were a shape, I would be: Irregular.
If I were a number, I would be: The square root of pie.
If I were an item of clothing, I would be: Worn around the neck & accross the back in the ritual dances of cannibalistic nomads.
If I were a piece of jewelry, I would be: disappointing.
If I were a clothing accessory, I would be: [...]

If I were a country I would be: Erewhon.
If I were a singer I would be: It turns out we are a singer.

IF I WERE YOU: I would pick up a good book, like Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, & study it carefully.

Now, let's see...

A girl & a guy were speeding on a motorcycle at 90MpH.

Suddenly, a long, thick shadow emerged from out of the woods on the side of the road, & crept unto the pavement. It rose, inconceivably black & erect, dwarfing the nearby streetlights. Contact was imminent, but instead of colliding, the insolent vehicle was abruptly swallowed in the darkness, absorbed in its ethereal folds without causing as much as the inkling of a stir. Though muffled, engine sounds still came out, accompanied by the strident cry of metal being crushed, & the horrible complaints of humans suffering unspeakable torment.

This, however, lasted only an instant. Subsequently, the shadow stood still, straighter, taller, & darker than before. Moments passed in dreadful, wretched silence - an owl swallowed its hoot, & even the crickets quieted their chirping. Then the shadow wafted back into the darkness of the woods, blithely, & serene. From immense, it dwindled down to unremarkable proportions & coalesced into something compact, like a lump of coal.

An owl hooted tentatively, and then swooped down to capture a squirrel. The crickets sang somewhat louder than before. Traffic resumed as usual, on the highway & all through the night. Neither of the two police patrols noticed anything outside of the ordinary that evening - except that the moon shone brighter, & the air felt more pure.

The next morning, HaMekashef was seen strolling casually in that area. He picked up the eldritch mass: "I triumph," he mumbled, crushing it between his fingers. "I have murdered a most despicable myth. May we be forever rid of it, & our youth ever careful of love which doth not excuse brash foolishness."

Recently we have made many additions to the Beith. After some more renovations we will likely be able to call it habitable.

We have been seeing the following sentence on a number of young women's Presentation pages, & We think it is about time We respond to it once & for all:

"If you had me alone, locked up in your room for 24 hours, and I had to do whatever you wanted me to do, what would you do with me?"

Our response is: We would have you read a doctoral dissertation on the psycho-social problem of the over-sexualization of teens, taking the time to explain all the big words. Then We would drop you off somewhere sane, like a fair-trade coffee place where people dress up instead of dressing down.

We are SOOO radical.

Of the many things we don't understand about this community is some of its residents' habit to voice threats proposing to protect their friends. Why is this society so paranoid as to require self-proclaimed defenders, so to speak, around every street corner? Such men (& women) ought to have a little more faith in Reason, & in people's ability to not give a damn.

HaMekashef-Coroìn visited the Tatterdemalion King yesternight.
He produced this as a result: http://thisdepletedlife.control-alt-del.org/occult/tatterdemalion.htm

HaMekashef's voice has decided to go on strike. What to do, what to do?! Perhaps it is time we raise it an altar, & offer generous sacrifices. But what kind of sacrifices does a voice want?