Memories and possibilities are even more hideous than realities.
Set at 13:03 on May 12, 2017
Wonder had gone away, and he had forgotten that life is only a set of pictures in the brain, among which there is no difference betwixt those born of real things and those born of inward dreamings, and no cause to value the one above the other.
Openly speaking to the public is honestly not my forte, and those who boast of themselves as being something or someone they are not in their introduction is extremely unbecoming. People can be whoever or whatever they choose in their minds I suppose, but know that in my eyes it makes you no more enlightened or special than the next person on this earth. This displaying of people’s “pompous sovereignty” is not impressive or intimidating, it is merely a pathetic cry for attention. So please do not attempt that approach with me, it will get you nowhere. Also, Mistress Angelique and I are soul mates, we are madly in love, and are happily living together. I am letting this be known now, because neither she nor I will tolerate provocative behavior in the slightest bit, so please have some respect and dignity for both of us as well as yourselves.
Now, I’m sure you want to know what everyone else seems to want to know on VR, whether about themselves or others, and that is “are you a real vampire?”
The answer is quite simple, “no, I am not a vampire.”
Sorry if that is a disappointment but I’m simply not a vampire or any other mythical creature for that matter. Nor do I try to be, I have no desire to be a vampire or any other creature. I find that being a simple mortal human being provides me with all the capabilities and power I will ever need. This does not mean the topic of vampires does not interest me, because it does as most other alternative aspects of life, I just simply do not believe that all is real outside of myth.
My personal life outside of VR is not up for discussion unless I truly feel I know you and can trust you. And might I add, trust is hard to come by with me as I have had too many issues arise over being open about myself with the wrong individuals in the past. If you wish to know what I look like, then look at my portfolio. If you wish to know my interests, then review my full profile and journal. If you want to know my age, look at my date of birth. If you want to know about my religious or political point of view, that’s none of your business at all and I do not care to talk about it. I do not like discussing religion or politics anyway because everyone has a different belief on truth and this leads to disputes. I simply couldn’t care less what others believe is truth. I have my own truth and it works for me and does not need debating. Not trying to sound rude, but that’s just how I am when it comes to such personal topics. Why you ask? Well, to put it simply in the words of H. P. Lovecraft, "Religion is still useful among the herd - that it helps their orderly conduct as nothing else could. The crude human animal is in-eradicably superstitious, and there is every biological reason why they should be.
Take away his Christian god and saints, and he will worship something else.."
So those are two more things I will not tolerate people pressing the issue on. I am a kind person to all and very open minded, but I have my ways about me that I do not appreciate being tested on and I dislike nonsensical people who try to pull a power trip on you. I am also a very reserved person, meaning I do not talk much, so please do not expect it of me. Actually, do not expect me to bend to your will at all! Need another Lovecraft quote on this too, here: "Throw a stick, and the servile dog wheezes and pants and stumbles to bring it to you. Do the same before a cat, and he will eye you with coolly polite and somewhat bored amusement. And just as inferior people prefer the inferior animal which scampers excitedly because someone else wants something, so do superior people respect the superior animal which lives its own life and knows that the puerile stick-throwings of alien bipeds are none of its business and beneath its notice. The dog barks and begs and tumbles to amuse you when you crack the whip. That pleases a meekness-loving peasant who relishes a stimulus to his self importance. The cat, on the other hand, charms you into playing for its benefit when it wishes to be amused; making you rush about the room with a paper on a string when it feels like exercise, but refusing all your attempts to make it play when it is not in the humour. That is personality and individuality and self-respect -- the calm mastery of a being whose life is its own and not yours -- and the superior person recognises and appreciates this because he too is a free soul whose position is assured, and whose only law is his own heritage and aesthetic sense. It is good to be a cynic — it is better to be a contented cat — and it is best not to exist at all."
So with all this being said, either kick back and enjoy my profile or leave peacefully, but refrain from stirring up trouble simply because MY profile is not to YOUR liking. Please show kindness and respect and I will return the favor.
Well, I believe I have told you all you need to know about me here.
There is darkness inside all of us, though mine is more dangerous than most. Still, we all have it—that part of our soul that is irreparably damaged by the very trials and tribulations of life. We are what we are because of it, or perhaps in spite of it. Some use
it as a shield to hide behind, others as an excuse to do unconscionable things. But, truly, the darkness is simply a piece of the whole, neither good nor evil unless you make it so.
Contrary to what you may assume, I am not a pessimist but an indifferentist- that is, I don't make the mistake of thinking that the... cosmos... gives a damn one way or the other about the especial wants and ultimate welfare of mosquitoes, rats, lice, dogs, men, horses, pterodactyls, trees, fungi, dodos, or other forms of biological energy.
The world is indeed comic, but the joke is on mankind.
Science is always discovering odd scraps of magical wisdom and making a tremendous fuss about its cleverness.
I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.
There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the stories and visions of their youth; for when as children we learn and dream, we think but half-formed thoughts, and when as men we try to remember, we are dulled and prosaic with the poison of life. But some of us awake in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of fountains that sing in the sun, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick forests; and then we know that we have looked back through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy.
It is necessary, in this world, to be made of harder stuff than one's environment.
Denn die Todten reiten Schnell.
Ex Oblivion, H. P. Lovecraft
When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water that torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victims body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods.
Once when the wind was soft and scented I heard the south calling, and sailed endlessly and languorously under strange stars.
Once when the gentle rain fell I glided in a barge down a sunless stream under the earth till I reached another world of purple twilight, iridescent arbours, and undying roses.
And once I walked through a golden valley that led to shadowy groves and ruins, and ended in a mighty wall green with antique vines, and pierced by a little gate of bronze.
Many times I walked through that valley, and longer and longer would I pause in the spectral half-light where the giant trees squirmed and twisted grotesquely, and the grey ground stretched damply from trunk to trunk, sometimes disclosing the mould-stained stones of buried temples. And always the goal of my fancies was the mighty vine-grown wall with the little gate of bronze therein.
After awhile, as the days of waking became less and less bearable from their greyness and sameness, I would often drift in opiate peace through the valley and the shadowy groves, and wonder how I might seize them for my eternal dwelling-place, so that I need no more crawl back to a dull world stript of interest and new colours. And as I looked upon the little gate in the mighty wall, I felt that beyond it lay a dream-country from which, once it was entered, there would be no return.
So each night in sleep I strove to find the hidden latch of the gate in the ivied antique wall, though it was exceedingly well hidden. And I would tell myself that the realm beyond the wall was not more lasting merely, but more lovely and radiant as well.
Then one night in the dream-city of Zakarion I found a yellowed papyrus filled with the thoughts of dream-sages who dwelt of old in that city, and who were too wise ever to be born in the waking world. Therein were written many things concerning the world of dream, and among them was lore of a golden valley and a sacred grove with temples, and a high wall pierced by a little bronze gate. When I saw this lore, I knew that it touched on the scenes I had haunted, and I therefore read long in the yellowed papyrus.
Some of the dream-sages wrote gorgeously of the wonders beyond the irrepassable gate, but others told of horror and disappointment. I knew not which to believe, yet longed more and more to cross forever into the unknown land; for doubt and secrecy are the lure of lures, and no new horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonplace. So when I learned of the drug which would unlock the gate and drive me through, I resolved to take it when next I awaked.
Last night I swallowed the drug and floated dreamily into the golden valley and the shadowy groves; and when I came this time to the antique wall, I saw that the small gate of bronze was ajar. From beyond came a glow that weirdly lit the giant twisted trees and the tops of the buried temples, and I drifted on songfully, expectant of the glories of the land from whence I should never return.
But as the gate swung wider and the sorcery of the drug and the dream pushed me through, I knew that all sights and glories were at an end; for in that new realm was neither land nor sea, but only the white void of unpeopled and illimitable space. So, happier than I had ever dared hope to be, I dissolved again into that native infinity of crystal oblivion from which the daemon Life had called me for one brief and desolate hour.
I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents... some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new Dark Age.
|Oct 19, 2016
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