Tuesday, September 6, 2011

A brief moment of sanity

At the sound of the tone, I will have been awake and more importantly (arguably) sane (arguably) for three hours.

So, run down the list of the damage.
  • Several cryptic comments and abuse of grammar, apparently posted by myself. (Sorry)
  • An encoded notebook
  • Two of my logs have been tampered with
From what I can tell, I've been out of it since shortly after the last post.
Since it's the sane and paranoid thing to do, I have several methods of keeping track of my lucid moments. Thanks to the unspoken plan, I'm going to avoid mentioning what these are. Suffice it to say that they're all fairly simple and easy to check.
Two of these have been messed with. They're the most obvious and the most complex. The one is missing, the other is the aforementioned encrypted notebook. Both by me.

Right, that's the important bit isn't it. So let's get the messages answered.
Opal! Lovely, sane (arguably) Opal, perhaps consider this an object lesson. Aggy might not be all there. Don't let your guard down. The sleeping pills I've flushed down the drain. I can't actually let myself relax.
Ben, you're a miserable, skeptical bastard and I can't see the comparison to that poor mad and very likely dead girl. Kindly try to avoid antagonizing Opal, I rather enjoy the company.
Walter Reeves Bishop, you're a miserable, treacherous bastard. I try to be polite because as far as I know, you haven't killed anyone directly. But I won't have you spreading your point of view.
That's it.
Spencer Fitzgerald, I tried to think of different words to use to avoid a direction comparison with Walter, but I could only find a few, you're a miserable, conniving bastard Spence, and while those are admirable qualities in some ways, you really need to check yourself.

So answering the big question, since we're not looking at the big question yet. I do appear to be quite sane and in possession of most of my faculties. No, I'm not telling anyone what happened yet. Mostly because I have to sort out my head.
I was well out of it when I was posting. As far as physical harm? My right hand aches like a bitch, my face is scratched up, I've got a black eye and more bruises than I care to count. I'm still in one piece though and I have all my teeth. Also, my glasses which is really the important bit.

Ever looked at one of those magic eye pictures? Or one of the optical illusions? Like the one with the rabbit and the duck? Or the old woman and the young woman. Initially, maybe you can only see the one. But if you tilt your head a little, you can suddenly flip back and forth between both with absolute clarity.
The above was a comparison which, while absolutely nothing like what happened, may presumably aid the understanding of what I'm about to write.
Call it madman's intuition, but I've had a few insights. None of them were pleasant.


  1. Thank Goodness. Good to know you didn't lose it there. Take all time you need to get yourself organized.

    I'll remember what you said about Aggy. She's still asleep so it's hard to tell anything at this point.

    Keep safe.

    (...and I guess I apologize for the your mom joke Ben, since your mother probably didn't deserve to be insulted for that.)

  2. I wasn't really offended or anything. Don't worry. I guess Nemo wants me to apologize or something. I'm bad at being nice. It's regrettable, since there are a few people on these blogs that I do feel bad for. Adele, for instance, not that anybody knows about her.
    And Nemo, miserable and skeptical sounds like a good description of me to me.

  3. No fighting in the playground, children, shake hands and make up.

  4. "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
    Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

  5. Unfortunatly, this is not your blog, Raven. It's Nemo's, and I shall darken it to the extent that I, and I alone, wish.

    You hold no power over me. Your abillity to quote a very old, and well known poem by a very old and well known writer does not impress. If you feel the need to say something, say it for yourself, otherwise you're merely a puppet for the words or actions someone else.

    Which is exactly what you hold true to be anyway.

  6. When we risk no contradiction,
    It prompts the tongue to deal in fiction.

  7. And here I thought you were dead.
    Don't feed the birds Lyric, they just keep coming back.

  8. I was always a lover of soft-winged things.

  9. Yes, I'm sure you were the sort of child that wrung the necks of pigeons for kicks, sick bastard that you are.

  10. Wringing pigeon necks granted me regenerative powers.