So every now & then we feel like hitting the "random house" button a few dozen times.

We don't recommend it. It's extremely depressing.

Was life much better before sliced bread?

This is our entry for the Halloween Poetry Competition, which we've divided in two uneven parts for the contest. We do not think it is very likely that we will win, but we want to participate to all the Samhain festivities. We will likely illustrate both parts of the poem for the Halloween Art Competition -- which again, we will not likely win, but participation keeps this community interesting.

So we survived a sizeable audience, & came out of the Granada relatively unscathed (although the benefits of the experience have yet to manifest themselves).

We are tired & behind on all of our assignments, but still have this altruistic urge to educate, & therefore we direct you to these articles on Yom Kippur.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yom_Kippur
http://www.jewfaq.org/holiday4.htm

Shalom!

We've been told to assert our presence in the blogosphere once more -- this is good transitory ground, is it not?

There's something about music theory which we find impossibly unappealing; namely, that it takes aeons to piece together, & that the end result is infrequently consistent with initial expectations.

If Walter Benjamin had studied music theory at the university level, certainly he would have had something clever to say about it in the Arcades Project, & the Intelligentsia would be eternally grateful because, really -- if it's in the Arcades Project it doesn't need further extrapolation.

"Ô rage, ô désespoir!
Ô jeunesse ennemie!"

We know that hundreds of Elftowners have already expressed such feelings in their diary -- & yet, regardless of our dislike of sheepishness, we cannot help but say:

The Crocodile Hunter will be direly missed.

Fighting supernatural evil is a great way to bond with friends & family. I'm sure it's very therapeutic.

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."