Open the Door...

The Door is here.

The Door was over there. Now it's here.

I'm drunk, but... I don't feel like just hitting Enter and letting the errors slip through my fingers. I want to go back, fix it, make it "proper". Crossing the i's, and dotting the t's. The Door is here.

It's in my doorframe. I could leave through the front door... but I don't want to. There's a shadow out there. Maybe it's watching me.

Then it can watch me go. It's not moving. I don't care. Everything's alright. Everything's fine. Everything's bright.

Goodbye, friends. I shall open the Door, and I will see you on the other side.

Aqua Vitae

the pain goes as long as I drink

I do't eidjk dirnking. But I haveb to. I nca o tproperly. So , Ii dirn. VMtuim into the toilet afterwards.

fucklief

Still Sober

Feeling like crap.

My vision is blurring. I walk everywhere, and a putrid stench claws at my noise. Any food I eat turns to ashes in my mouth. My hands are wrought with blotches. My feet, covered in blisters. I can see the veins on my arms and my legs and my chest and my neck and everywhere so clet so irep.

... sorry. I keep feeling as if the straight line of my thoughts is falling into circles, and going round and round; wheels within wheels within wheels within wheels.

Like that.

I keep hearing this buzzing noise in my ears. Won't go away. Gonna take some headache tablets, make 'em go away.

Sobered Up

He was there. He offered me his hand. I took it. I blacked out.

I woke up in my apartment. The smell is rank. I can't stop throwing up. I found some blood in the last one. Not too sure what's happe- fuck.

There's stuff crawling in the vomit. Gonna need to get a bucket or something to clean this up. What a mess...

Whisky

ho wowi that was a bt much ,rojb l,

Feeels greart, thisl , dunno wahy I didn;t di o before.

Someone;;  ajt my door. Shioiukdl ik sjiia helllo:?

nothing there

Oh, god, my arm hurts.

I'm on leave from work. There was nothing under my cast. I've amateurishly made a new one, but my healing will take a bit longer.

Whatever.

That reminds me. I tried some whisky today. It tastes good.

Cast

i feel it

Itching itching. My aarm's in a cast and there's something n there


scritchscritchscrtch

it has to come off adnfjjsf fktu has to come off there's soemtjin in there

Arm

I broke my arm a few weeks back. My friend took me to work on his motorbike, and he suddenly threw up with his helmet on and went off the side of the road. All said and done? Nothing broken except the arm. Could be worse.

Why didn't I say earlier? I dunno. I guess I'm losing interest in this.

Up and Down

Not feeling so great agaain.

It just seems like a perpetual cycle. A fine day, followed by a treacherous night.

Sod it; I'm taking my medication now, listening to the Manics and R.E.M. for the rest of the night and starting on my new (hopefully healthier) diet tomorrow.

Better Now

Er... sorry about my post yesterday. I took my medicine and am now feeling a lot better after a good night's sleep.

The doctor was no help, as I'm sure you've gathered. Said there was nothing wrong, despite my increasing tendency to have negative illnesses. I'm really thinking it's a dietary problem... I dunno, I'm looking up 'healthy stuff' on the Internet. It probably won't amount to anything, buuut. Taking medication is good.

I'll see what I can do about it. Ergh...

Feelig sick

I'mvnot feeling gteat you guys.

Went to the doctor today... ahaha, look at me. A nurse who can't even do a goddamn diagnosis himself. gott go to some dumb docor sinstead. He didn't think there was anything wrong with me. Shows what hefucking knows, right? rich bastard gotta go to universarity and he's a dumnbass. I know there's shoint fucking wrong with me, I'mjfjf not dumb. Throwiung up in the middleee of the night and feeling pale and stuff luneder my dkin bl;ack things dark things ike spiders, spiders allover me. i Brush em off and they just keep coming back

gotta relax they don't exist. I'm ill. I've gotta be ill. I mmight have picked it up offf somtyhing. Speaking of icking things p, that biitc's chesssssbaord is still here  why did i taek it why. Np point in tkaijngk itk , she's crauxhjk anyway.

Got medicine. Gonnfftta take mdicikine. Gotta take medicinenba and sleepe njow

Lack of Updates

Sorry, been chilling out over the weekend. It's a Bank Holiday today, so, y'know, no work.

Incidentally, I'm going to side with my co-workers about the paleness. I just compared myself to a photo my friend took of me last month, and I am pretty pale. I think it might be a dietary thing... I dunno, I'll need to see what I can do about that. To Google!

Blogger Sucks

I've been having trouble logging in over the past few days. Blogger's fault.

I don't think I spend enough time in the sun, on an unrelated note -- I'm looking a bit pale, according to my co-workers. Whatever.

Haven't got anything that I really want to talk about, to be honest. Eh.

Eight PM, Sunday, Cardiff Central

So, I went yesterday. Foolish of me? Very.

At about eight PM, my train pulled into Cardiff Central. Before I left, my computer had the pop-up again -- it instructed me to look for a carrier bag underneath a bench when my train pulled up. I looked; there it was. Opening it, I found a transceiver; like, a kid's toy? I hooked it into my ear. There was also a note attached, which was rather implicit. "Put it in and leave."

I did just that. As soon as I went outside, the transceiver crackled and allowed a voice in. "Hello. Can you see me?"

Obviously, the transceiver didn't let me send a message back, so I looked around and didn't see anything -- then I noticed someone standing still. The train had just pulled in, of course there'd be people moving away. But someone staying still? Quite different; so much so as to be a torrent. I could not see their face (only just the top of their head), but it seems they could see my pace.

"Very well. Follow. Walk, do not run."

The figure turned (or, rather, the hairline moved) and walked away. I followed it, going with the crowd; it turned left, I followed. As the crowds parted, I could see the figure more clearly from behind; a black coat, fairly long and rather tatty. Black hair pausing just after the shoulder-blades. She didn't look back, not even once, to insure I was following her.

I know Cardiff pretty well, but I must admit that I ended up losing track of exactly where we were. Down through streets and alleys, past residential districts; through back lanes. I was occasionally given orders, such as "head to the end of the street, turn left, keep going until you see me again". I would have paid more attention to the signs if I'd been able to focus. She walks fast.

Now, my memory, I note, is becoming rather patchy. I know I looked at signs, but can't remember what was written on them. It's... annoying. I felt like I was coming out in a rash, too. That's not important. I followed the figure into what looked like a disused construction site or something. A few unfinished rooms; one had a roof built over it, and that was the one she walked into. I saw her raise a hand to her face, as if adjusting something. She walked in, and my transceiver crackled. "Wait two minutes. Keep an eye open."

I looked around, didn't see anything. I'm not sure if 'construction site' is a good thing to call it, since it might have just been an old school building or something, which had fallen on hard times. I'm not even sure where it was, so. Hey, whatever. A "yes" from my earpiece, and I walked in.

I found myself in a small room. Very cold, like it was outside. There was just one light source (a bare bulb: hooked up to a battery on a circuit. Not sure what to think about that); a table, on which a checkered board was set, with chess pieces upon it (the table was actually just some bricks on top of one another). And the person I had been following. Standing in the room. I wouldn't make a guess as to her height, besides 'shorter than I am.' Black hair, black clothes. I could see a theme going on here.

Now, I'd describe her features, but I can't. She was wearing a mask; painted black, too. And some random white lines... which I realised were basically in the shape of the symbol on the envelope. She told me to sit; I did so, and as did she. I noted that despite the mask, I could see her eyes; she was either staring at me, or looking over my shoulder. She didn't blink a lot. It was... disconcerting.

"Why the mask?" I asked.

"Keep your voice down, please. I cannot tell you. I know you're going to post it on your little blog-thing," she replied, in a voice which seemed like ice. (I think I'm beginning to slip into a sort of story-telling mood here. Forgive me for it. While we're at it, forgive me for not writing things exactly as they happened. I can remember the gist of the conversation, so I'm just matching words to how it went.)

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Yes. In the case of the mask, anyway."

"So, if I promised...?"

"Promises don't mean anything. But I will take your word for it." And then she told me, and I'll honour my word. I'll repeat, again, that what I'm saying here is generally right. I might have gotten some things wrong. I'm sure she'll correct me if she wants to. When she finished, I responded, and she talked back. Then she pointed at the chessboard; white faced towards her, black towards me. A white pawn had already moved two squares forward. "Take your turn."

We kept talking and playing. I don't recall the exact words, but I asked her about the game, and she said it was just a "prop". I went along with it and moved some piece. She'd checkmated me three or four times by the time I left.

We discussed a few things. Firstly, we strayed over the issue of what she'd stole from me; after a rather long argument, she returned the money, grudgingly. But not the camera. She apparently 'knew' it was dangerous. Whatever. Anyway, I noted here that she kept looking over my shoulder. It was sort of disconcerting, since I kept having the feeling that something was looking at me from behind. Probably because she was looking behind me.

After that, the Doors. She claimed that they were, in fact, aberrations -- one of many, listing things called 'the Whisperer', 'the Supremacy', 'the Teacher', 'the Shifters' and 'the Slender Man'. I, obviously, burst out laughing at the last one, calling it a joke; she quite agreed, saying something about exaggeration by "immature idiots". We got quite sidetracked talking about such things (most of which I've forgotten because I don't memorise bullshit), before she pointed out the time -- and asked if she could stay at my place. But before I could answer, she grasped my wrist. She, in a low voice, told me to not turn around, but to act natural. When she finished speaking, I had to say 'checkmate', put all the pieces on the chessboard into a bag, lift up a section of the board, and put them in there. Then, take the chessboard with me and go straight home -- never look back.

I was surprised at both her question and her sudden frantic whispering. Nevertheless, I said "checkmate" and did as she asked, while saying that she couldn't stay at my house. Why? She's a complete stranger, probably a deranged lunatic and definitely a criminal. I don't even know why I went, since there was obviously no point in me doing it. I turned, with my money and the chess-set, and walked out, not looking back. She didn't even call back to me.

I found my way to somewhere I recognised and went back home by train. Now, this is weird: I looked back, while the train was moving away. And there was some guy in a trench-coat staring at me. He probably just missed his train and looked at me with the emotions of "you twat, how dare you get on the train before me!" I don't know what happened to AM. I might go back to Cardiff tomorrow and see if I can find her home. I only posted this today because, well, I struggled to find the energy to type it all up.

Incidentally, I found her blog. It's amercurialsmile.blogspot.com; it's rubbish, but might be worth a read.

Now, back to reality.

Fantastic Concert

It really was.

I mean, they didn't play anything from Journal of Plague Lovers, which sucks, but they played a bunch of awesome tracks. The Masses Against the Classes, Everything Must Go (as an acoustic!), You Love Us, Motown Junk, It's Not War (It's Just the End of Love), Some Kind of Nothingness, Enola/Alone... really great.

They also played some... unexpected tracks. Slash and Burn was cool, even if Bradfield forgot the lyrics. They also did My Little Empire, which I've never heard live before... uh, they did a bunch of other weird tracks. Like, uh, Solitude Sometimes Is, Life Becoming A Landslide.

The support band (The Joy Formidable, if anyone wants to google it) wasn't bad either.

I'm surprised, incidentally, that nothing happened when I was out. Normally, when I mention going out on this blog before I do it, something bad tends to happen while out or shortly after... confirmation bias? Yeah.

A Virus?

I'm in my computer's Safe Mode at the moment. Why?

My last post was interrupted by a pop-up. Immediately after, it sent my blog post before I could complete it, and without my consent. The pop-up immediately expanded, filling the whole of my monitor. If any of you have used AIM, it looked a bit like an AIM window. Moments later, words appeared on the screen; it was rather similar to an instant messaging conversation. Here is the transcript, as recorded by me. C is what I inputted; A.M., presumably, is from a foreign source.

<AM> Hello.
<C> ...hello?
<AM> That's what I said, yes.
<C> What is this?
<AM> Useful.
<C> Seriously.
<AM> This is something a former friend made for me. Think of it as forced instant messaging.
<C> Okay. Who are you?
<AM> I am what I am. I am Mercury. I am Achromatic Morality.
<C> Why did you break into my house?
<AM> Why not?
<C> That's not an answer.
<AM> Yes, it is.
<C> Fine. Why did you take my camera and the envelopes?
<AM> For the envelopes, my fingerprints were all over them. I didn't think to wear gloves.
<AM> As for the camera, it's because you strike me as a trigger-happy person.
<C> You know, "trigger-happy" normally refers to guns.
<AM> Cameras are far more dangerous then guns in this game.
<C> "Game"? I'm glad you think of stealing my stuff as a game.
<AM> Don't be so pedantic.
<C> Whatever. The envelopes...
<AM> What about them?
<C> How did you know about the Doors before I told a soul about them?
<AM> I didn't.
<C> Then how did you know to say "Janus"?
<AM> Janus was not just the god of doors. He is the god of beginnings and transitions; the god of gates, endings and times.
<AM> That's a good range of meanings. I chose him on the basis that there was no way it wouldn't be applicable.
<C> And "epic"?
<AM> Greek god of discord, Eris. "Epic", as you say, is how the Greeks would write it.
<C> On the same basis as Janus, I'm guessing.
<AM> Nope.
<AM> Eris means discord. Concordia means "harmony".
<C> ...
<AM> Just my little joke.
<C> What about the other stuff?
<AM> Work it out for yourself.
<C> Whatever.
<C> Wait. When did this program get onto my computer?
<AM> At the same time as the post.
<C> Ah.
<C> Why did you take my money?
<AM> Because I'm desperate.
<AM> I initiated this conversation for one reason.
<C> What is it?
<AM> I want to meet you. Face-to-face, on neutral ground.
<C> You must be out of your tiny mind.
<AM> Says the man who left his back door open.
<C> Whatever.
<AM> Sunday. Cardiff Central. Eight PM.
<C> What makes you think I'll turn up?
<AM> Call it a hunch. See you then.

And then the program closed. The logs popped up a moment later. I will note that at points, the program didn't accept my inputs from the keyboard; I'm not sure if it's moderation or not, though.

I am unsure of what of whether to go or not. I'm running all of my antivirus programs now to try and find the program, although I'm not confident.

A Solution

My thanks to my anonymous commentators for making the connection between the envelopes and the burglar's post for me; the hidden message led me to google "Mercury" and find the symbol. So it is clear, then, that the two are definitely connected. It never hurts to be sure of these things.

So, Achromatic Morality. You are my only follower with the initials "A.M." and, indeed, the only person I know at all who has such initials. I, frankly, do not think it coincidence that you happened to start following me after I began analysing the envelopes.

Tell me, was it you who sent the envelops and broke into my house? I'm purely curious, so if you could tell m

Going to a Manics Concert

On Saturday. Feeling pretty good about it, too. I'll be sure to relay what I think!

Anyway, work's going fine. The locks are getting changed tomorrow, and I'm still looking at the pictures of the envelopes on the blog. Something's nagging at me -- it feels like I'm missing something obvious... anyone got any clues? It's this vague tugging at my mind. Had it since I looked at the post the world's most inept burglar put on my blog. I dunno.

Also: good lord, I didn't know I could sneeze this ha- strike that, I just managed to sneeze and get blood all over my wall. Musta banged my nose on my hand or something. I'll be back later.

The Day After

The police went over my place while I was at work yesterday, apparently. They couldn't find anything that would hint at how the thief might have got in; after I said I'd been to a party, I think they think I just left my camera there. Which'd be strange, since I didn't take it.


Sod it. If it wasn't for that post, I'd be getting the locks changed... which might be a very good reason to change them, given that the perpetrator may have assumed I wouldn't pay much attention to my locks if they got in in the way described...

Someone Broke In

No, that's a stupid post title. You all know that someone broke into my house last night. After all, they left a post on the damn blog.

My camera's gone. That was the first thing I noticed. Along with about £30 that I had in my wallet (which was all that was in my wallet, incidentally). There's probably other things, but those were the first things I noticed.

I'm phoning the police. I cannot be dealing with this at the moment. But I'm not telling them about the blog. It isn't important, and some stupid message about my phone? No way. I doubt the envelopes were from the same source, either, and I've got no proof they were here. My little thief took them, too (they were under my camera, so perhaps the thief presumed they were bills or something).

But I did find something interesting. In place of the camera, there was a little bit of paper. I think it was cut from the same sheet as the last envelope's paper, but can't be sure. It says "CUT", and on the back, it has that damn symbol again. Based on the orientation of the paper, it looks like "cut" was on the same side as "SHUFFLE". Which makes sense. What do you do after you shuffle a deck? You cut it.

So, yeah. I've phoned my boss (while I was typing this), and I'm now phoning the police. But before I do that, I'm going to go down a kettle of coffee.

A Shadow of a Doubt

Simplicity in itself.


To leave one's computer on and the doors so easily unlocked as to be practically left wide open... you truly are an idiot. Now, how did that little rhyme-thingy go...? "Find my words in log and web, swift as a shadow", or something? Not that it matters.

I am Mercury. Call me A.M.

Keep your wits about you, C. I'll be in touch.


Sincerely (<3)

Fancy Dress Party

I do not think I have laughed quite so much in some time.

As I've said, the theme for the party was "retro"; I put on a stupid wig and lied my way through the questions, since I'm not a fan of wasting money. There was a couple of people there who were apparently doing, like, super-retro. Some guy in a bird mask was my favourite, although I did bump him into him a few times - he left after a while, so I guess he got a bit annoyed at all the noise (that costume looked stifling!) - someone else as a suit of armour, you know. I'll need to find out who Birdface was, and give them a slap on the back and an apology. There was also a bunch of people in the usual outfits, but those are boring.

People were serving drinks, but... I don't drink. I'm perfectly capable of being stupid with no mind-altering drugs; but the atmosphere of the place meant I was constantly laughing.

I don't go to parties often enough. Or, indeed, bed, which is wear I'll be going now.

Working Overtime

It's something I'll be doing a lot of over the next week. I'll try and do a post before the costume party, but no guarantees.

As long as it doesn't take too long, I'll also try responding to any new comments, too.

Envelope III - "Shuffle"

As I posted earlier, I have indeed received a third envelope. Since the outside is the same as the second one, I don't think there's any point in wasting everyone's time and bandwidth showing pictures. So, here we go...

Another Envelope (Again)

The outside's the same as II.

The paper inside, however, is different to the way it was before.

Give me a bit. Pics up later.

Incidentally, anyone had any leads on the symbol? It's appeared a lot more on this one, so I do want to know...

Everything Must Go

Saw my cousin today. Got him to give me my Manic Street Preachers album back.

Everything Must Go is pretty awesome. I wonder where The Holy Bible got off too...

And I bet you think you're funny, Achromatic Morality. (Hint: you're not.)

Welsh Assembly Elections

Here's the statistics for Wales, straight from the BBC.


Labour - 30 seats (+4 from 2007)
Conservatives - 14 seats (+2)
Plaid Cymru - 11 seats (-4)
Liberal Democrats - 5 (-1)
Everyone else - 0 (+0)


For those who are arithmetically challenged, this means that Labour are just one person away from a total majority in the Senedd. A crying shame, that - it means that we're probably going into coalition. I hope it's with the Liberal Democrats, although that probably wouldn't be a popular move for them.


The referendum on alternative vote is being counted now. Here's hoping for a "yes", but I can't say I care very much.


(Posting from my mobile phone, incidentally. I've got a bit of free time, so... why not?)

Party

Fancy dress or "costume party". Whatever floats your boat.

The theme's retro. I think I know what I'll be doing for it. It's on the 14th May, apparently. I'm riveted with excitement.

Examining the Envelopes (II)

In which I examine envelopes.

Envelope II

"Seek" - again, I consult my dictionary for meanings besides the obvious. It's first seven definitions require a subject, and none is provided. Without object, it means "to make inquiry". So, perhaps, it is the writer making inquiries or, perhaps, telling me to make my own? Mayhap this be related to the Eyes of God thingy?

Now, I've already gone over "Janus". Roman god of doors, as I recall. This, to me, is obviously a reference to my episode with the door - did my mysterious mailer meet me on the night, and I told him of my hallucinations?

The poem. An extract from "Death Be Not Proud" by John Donne. It refers to killing death itself, whereas this simply takes a few lines from it. I can only ponder as to why these lines were chosen, as if one was to be dramatic, surely "death, thou shalt die" would be better lines?

Triangle-with-a-line-through-it. No clue.

"Aporia II". I have dealt with the Roman numerals before; perhaps they are merely a way of showing In rhetoric, it is used to mean "feigned doubt, used to establish a proposition". Now, this interests me. Mainly because of "Janus". I will not say why, however, at present - I need to ponder a little more, lest I repent.

That's both of them. And now I'm bored again. I am, of course, working on Friday once again, though. If anyone could provide me answers regarding the symbols, I'll be happy to hear.

Examining the Envelopes (I)

Right, there. I've got some free time. Now, the envelopes. Thinking cap goes on.

Envelope I

The symbol in place of the postage stamp. I couldn't find it; I'll need some help finding out what it is, and what it means. If, indeed, it has any meaning at all.

"Sincerely". My first thought when I saw it, after my dismissal, was that it was a mistake. After all, such things are meant to go in your letter, are they not? However, a quick glance at my dictionary pointed out that it normally means "free of deceit, hypocrisy, or falseness; earnest". If this is, indeed, meaningful, we can therefore conclude that this mailer may be saying that the contents are the truth. Interesting.

"Epic". Again, I can only appeal to the dictionary's definition, which is "heroic, majestic, impressively great". I am unsure as to what this is meant to mean. Given the reverse of the page, perhaps we can glean... I'll raise the point again in my next paragraph.

I googled the first line of the poem. It is, in fact, an extract from Robert Frost's (whoever he is) poem "Acquainted with the Night". It sounds vaguely meaningful, but I struggle to care. However, I do note the use of "I" - a personal pronoun, aye? Perhaps, then we can conclude that the outside of the paper may refer to the person who sent the envelope? Hence, in this case "epic" makes a lot more sense. They paint themselves as heroic, majestic and impressively great, perhaps for their deeds in the city. What stupid nonsense; I've outwalked city lights.

"Eunoia I". At first, I figured this may be an anagram; however, or another use of personal pronouns. Given "Aporia II", however, this is unlikely. Thus, we can conclude "I" is a Roman numeral. Simple enough. "Eunoia" is a word my dictionary does not have, so I consult an online dictionary. Which also does not have it! So, I googled it. It is rarely used to indicate good medical health, and it also says something wishy-washy about building goodwill in rhetoric. 

The circle-with-a-line-through-it. Again, I have nothing. No real meanings there.

God, I'm fed up with doing this crap after one damn envelope. I'll do the other one after I, y'know, do something meaningful.

Obama's d- no, wait, wrong way around...

Osama Bin Laden is now dead... life goes on. Well, not for him, but, y'know.

I haven't actually done anything about the envelopes yet. Maybe tomorrow, after work... actually, it's not like it really matters, so.

However, I have noticed something. Normally, I type posts into this by opening up the blog, scanning to see if I've had any comments, then hitting "New Post". However, today, I opened it via my Dashboard. And it appears that I, at some point, have subscribed to a blog called "The Eyes of God", which is, incidentally, a blog that Rivers is following - and my new follower, Seann. How very curious. Perhaps I, in a tired daze, found the blog via Rivers' subscription feed... hmph, whatever.

So yeah, I'm enjoying the bank holiday. Went for a walk to the shops earlier, and it looks like someone let their dog loose in the church's graveyard. Couldn't see the collar, or tell the breed just by looking, though. Started barking at me as I went past.

People should really control their damn dogs more.

Oh Wait, Royal Wedding - is it fate, or just boring?

Definitely the latter.

So yeah, apparently, it's a holiday tomorrow. I think my work manager was pulling my leg. Got Monday off, too. 's all good.

Forgot to ask about the costume party, too. Durhurhur.

Birther Movement and Costume Party

I laughed at Obama's press statement when he presented his birth certificate. That's pathetic, America.

Oh, and one of my work friends invited me to a costume party. I'll find something, no doubt. Or I can go a Welshman. That's pretty damn scary, though.

... wait, I don't know when it is. Er.

Another Envelope - "Seek"

That title seems almost ominous. Simply put, that envelope. The outside of the envelope is pretty much the same, except there's a new word in the lower-right. "Seek". Do note that for the first shot, I forgot to turn the flash off. Shiiiiiiiiiine.

The Envelope

It's the same as the first one, except it says "Seek". I'll retake this later, if anyone's interested.

Back of Envelope (Open)

It's all the same as the other one. I just took a shot of how it looked when I opened it. This sheet is smaller then the other one, I think.

Paper in the Envelope (Front, Outside)

"Janus". It's all standard here, not like the funky letters on the other page. 

Paper in the Envelope (Reverse, Outside)

Another poem. Can the interested parties make this out? 

Paper in the Envelope (Front, Inside)

A triangle with a line through it. Better drawn then the circle, slightly, although I'm wondering what the obsession with shapes-with-lines-through them is/ 

Paper in the Envelope (Reverse, Inside)

"Aporia". And "II".

God, I'm tired. I would laugh at this, but I'm really, really tired.

Don't expect me to be posting as regularly as I have been. I don't think I'm getting enough sleep... however, I am intrigued by something.

"Janus". I learnt that name in school. It's the Roman god of doors. Now, isn't that interesting? Considering my run-in with the hallucination? So, mystery sender, how did you know about that? Or did you just think it was a good name and slapped it on?

I want to go over these. Now, readers of the blog... do you have anything? Do you, in any case, care? I doubt it. But if you know what anything in this blog means... tell me. I want to know about this. "Janus". Janus, Janus, Janus...

I Hate my Relatives -Part Two-

Listen up, kids, 'cause this is where it gets weird.

From what I can remember, I walked away from the station. I think the idea was to walk to the nearest town so I could use a payphone to get a taxi or something. It doesn't matter. As divulged previously, I got lost.

So, I ended up wandering the woods. I'm not sure where they were, exactly, but they were fairly large. I kept wandering; I was in a lucid state of mind, so the noises I heard probably didn't bother me. I kept wandering, wondering when I'd reach the town.

For all of my foggy memories when it comes to important stuff, this next bit is... well, preserved on my brain. I don't plan to throw it down a drain. I walked into a clearing, and saw some curious trees in front of me. Even though the fog had rolled in, I knew that most of the trees in this forest were tall, strong; not these ones. They were tangled and gnarled; they twisted together at some point, leaning against each other to raise themselves higher.

And between the trunks of these trees, I saw a Door.

Now, you may ask why I bolded that, and gave it a capital letter. That door wasn't like normal doors. It just... it seems like something you'd use a capital letter for. Something that sees it's name spelled with the lower-case d and slaps you for it. As for the bold... it seems fitting. It seemed... real. More real then things that are real.

That doesn't make sense. But it seemed to stand out, to jump out. Like compared to it, the rest of the world was a dimension behind it. Now, I can list off some little things about the Door. For one, it was made of solid wood; like, a really expensive wood, the name of which escapes me. Not like the rotting wood of the trees at all. Secondly, it was a double-leaf door. As in, there was a vertical divide between two panels. I noted, here, that there were no door handles, but that I could not see the door's hinges, so you'd push the Door open. Thirdly, the moon was behind it. The trees beside it cast shadows, but the Door did not.

So, I, in my addled state, walked towards the Door and pushed it open. Beyond it... I can't really remember. Lots of white, large, shining buildings; I was, I admit, quite entranced by them. Holding the Doorframe, I put a foot into it, and then another. I was almost ready to let go of the Doorframe, to walk into it...

Then I came to my senses, and took two steps back. And then my memory goes really foggy again. The next thing I know, it's morning. I'm sat in the dirt, looking up at the sun rising. I'm in a forest, no fog.

I began walking again, and find a road. I look at the sign.

I won't say where I was, but it was pretty damn far from my planned train route. I spent most of Sunday walking along the road to a town, asking where the train station is and if I can hire a taxi, and stuff like that. Got back pretty damn late.

What happened? I've got a pretty damn good guess. Given my faulty memory, lucid state and obvious hallucinations... presumably speaking, I must have accidentally taken some hallucinogenics when I was at the funeral, or the house afterwards. I didn't take anything but money with me, and it's all there (besides taxi fare). It's just annoying to interact with my extended family for a couple of hours, then find myself hallucinating about doors. Simply put, I think it's likely that I hallucinated the Door, then got lost. I might well have gone back to the station and caught a train to the place where I woke up.

I found another envelope this morning. Musta been posted before I woke up. I haven't opened it yet. I'll do that tomorrow, after work. I still feel tired from all that walking.

Fuck my relatives. Painfully.

I Hate my Relatives -Part One-

I really, really do.

So, I went to the funeral. It was actually late in the afternoon, so I was cool to drive up there with a cousin. Said I'd catch a train back, since I hoped to be out of there in the near future. Anyway, got there, went to the funeral. Very emotional, as I'm sure you'd think. I didn't shed many tears for someone who was, to me, a complete stranger. And they don't come much stranger then my extended family. Actually, they do, but.

Now, here's the problem. My memory gets spotty after the funeral.

Anyway, went back to... some house with most of my family. Presumably to catch up or something. I spent an hour or two there, avoiding the drinks being passed around. I wandered around a bit, before walking into a room on the first floor, and was immediately basked in noxious fumes, followed by a shout of "get out or get in, close the damn door". I got out, on the basis that whatever I breathed in made me feel more than a little sick. Presumably, some of my family were getting together to smoke some new illegal drug. Or something. I know more about the symptoms of drugs then I do about the things myself (on the basis that I can do permanent brain damage to myself very easily without help, thank you very much).

Anyway, I said my goodbyes (probably) and headed out. I think I went straight to the nearest train station - I'd memorised the trains I'd need to get back (or at least which platforms I'd need to get out at). Waited for a train, caught one, proceeded.

It got dark pretty damn fast. I'd forgotten my watch at home, and my mobile phone was out of battery. My head still ached from the stuff I'd breathed in, and I honestly can't recall checking the time at any point (even though I'd need to look at the times to recognise the trains). Maybe I did and just forgot.

Anyway, an announcement came up, saying that the train had reached the end of it's line. At some train station in the middle of goddamned nowhere. I sighed, got out at the place, and sat down. A lovely fog had rolled in here (wherever it was), and it was dark, so the lights by the place were blaring. It looked like something out of a horror film... why can I remember that image so vividly, but not the goddamn time?

Whatever. After some time, I... well, I think I got up and walked away. I think I planned to walk to the next station or something. But I couldn't stay by the tracks for obvious safety reasons (plus, fences), but I knew the direction, so I went in that direction.

I think I got lost. Actually, I know I got lost, as I'll later divulge.

Right now? I'm really damn tired and want to go to bed. Some things just don't make sense with what I remember.

Leaving

Forever!

... nah, sorry. You aren't getting rid of me that easily. Heading up to Scotland in the morning, so I won't be updating until, like, Monday. I've arranged for some leave off work (even if it meant, basically, changing my shift days around for the coming week, so I won't have any shifts on Monday, but will on Friday).

Unrelated, I'll be going back to five-day shifts the week after next, which means more money. Which is cool.

In summary, off to Scotland so I can talk to some people on drugs while trying to look sad. See ya Monday.

Photographs

Anyway, here it is. Obviously, it's already been taken out of the envelope, but I put it back in while taking shots.

Front of Envelope

Er...I can't find my picture for this. It's blank, except for the below symbol in the upper-right corner.

Front of Envelope (Zoom)

Not sure what this is meant to be. It looks a bit like a stickman with his legs on his head, doesn't it? This is where the stamp should be, which is odd - it won't get delivered without a stamp. Or an address, for that matter, and it has neither.

Back of Envelope

"Sincerely", I think. Aren't you meant to put that stuff inside the letter?

Back of Envelope (Opened)

No text but the upside-down letters on the paper. This was how it was orientated when I opened it.

Paper in the Envelope (Front, Outside)

Sorry, bit blurry... couldn't get the camera to take a good damn shot. Anyway, it says "Epic"... well, that's what I thought it said. The p looks a bit off, the i doesn't have a dot and the c's got a little five on it. Dunno what that's about.

Paper in the Envelope (Reverse, Outside)

Crappy poetry. Pretty sure you can make out all the words, despite my camera being a mess.

Paper in the Envelope (Reverse, Inside)

Second example of "kids have terrible handwriting" (and more shaky camera, whoa!). It says "Eunoia" (note the dot over the i). Well, either that or "Evnoia"; I'm not sure if that's a soft dipped v or a pointy u... and then a big "I" underneath.

Paper in the Envelope (Front, Inside)

Now this is abominable. That really is terrible penmanship; it looks like a damn diamond with a wonky line through it, and the curved corners make it look like it's meant to be a circle. That's just awful.

Yeah, whatever. 2/10 for effort, kids, but I could do better then this in my sleep. I don't even know why I'm posting this, but it's a welcome distraction from other stuff. Took the photos this morning, and personally handed it to the recycling-truck-guy. I'm gonna ask the other people in the street if they had some similar ones, just to check. If any of you care, I have go more shots of the thing on my camera... these are just the ones I grabbed off it.

Spam Mail from Moron Kids

Yeah, I found this stupid envelope through my letterbox this morning. Probably from kids, I heard 'em running around until all hours last night.


I've got nothing to talk about that I'd want to, work-wise, so I guess I'll upload some pictures tonight.

BBC iPlayer

Is an awesome idea, no matter what anyone says.


Have I Got News for You is a cracking show.

Note to Self

I should not be watching Internet psuedo-horror things in the early morning when I have work in the morning.


Last time I take a recommendation from this friend. Marble Hornets is no great shakes, in my opinion. It's not bad for an indie thing, but...

And the sun will still keep rising, always deflecting, always disguising...

Here I am; here I remain. This is no sham, there'll be no refrain.

My shifts start again on Monday, so my last day off is Sunday. I'll try and do a post on that day, and a few more as to not go astray.

Anyway, this was going to be about me. Again - did you expect different, maybe?

Well, damn. Looks like I'll be spending next weekend in Scotland; had a phone call, saying that some aunt had died and that I was needed.

Whatever. I'll go to keep up appearances, but I'm not hanging around. My extended family is... eh. Most of them have been arrested for various crimes; for a few, it's been many times. Most likely, I'll head to the funeral on Saturday morning, begin heading back in the afternoon, maybe stop in a hotel for the night if I can't make good progress.

Thrills.

Not what I want to Spend my Morning Doing.

As trite as it is, kids these days have no bloody manners.

Just had to tell one of 'em to piss off out of the next door neighbour's back garden, since they're not due to be awake for another hour.

Good way to start the weekend.


Also: wa-hey, I have a follower. Who follows a bunch of weird blogs. Uh, 'kay.

Not looking for something is the best way to find it.

Spent five minutes poking around my room, and I found my watch and my camera.

Fiddled with the exposure a bit. Kinda surprised that this thing is still dead on time.

You know so little about me... what if I turn into a werewolf, or something?

Only a god can bruise,
Only a god can soothe,
Only a god reserves the right
To forgive those who revile him
"Journal for Plague Lovers", Journal for Plague Lovers

Fair play, this is a pretty damn good album, eh? Picked it up today, so I'm not too so far away from the modern day as to be a stray. Purchased Postcards from a Young Man; why not, when I can? Not as good as Journal for Plague Lovers, but beggars aren't choosers. I have been meaning to see my cousin, since he has my CD's, all dozen.

Remember you, stretched out in the sun,
All alone forever, conclusions forgone,
Will you find some kind of nothingness?
Still and lonely, like an old-school photograph...
"Some Kind of Nothingness", Postcards from a Young Man

Around an Axle

I'm not a person inclined to philosophy, but I have been thinking.

People cling to life so desperately. Trying to escape the crushing wheel of fate, as it cuts the rightful path through history. "I don't want to die". It's almost pathetic. I don't believe in predestination; I don't believe in the Grim Reaper.

All of life is a wonderful, blessed shared dream. You enter it, you exist in it; you don't even know it. But the wheel of the world's fate does not stop - it moves forward. But the wheel of your fate? It turns and turns, and the dream continues. Until it stops - when it stops, the dream ends. And when the dream ends?

You die.

I am...

A title that is almost ominous; but don't worry, stay with us!

Since I've made this blog and I'd rather not talk about fog, I may as well talk about myself - if you don't want to read, suit yourself! I'm twenty-one years old; I work in a hospital in Wales, which is pretty damn cold. I would have gone to university, but universities are hardly centres for economic diversity. Medicine has always fascinated me, although actually working in the medical industry...

I've never kept a blog or personal diary - I'd sooner go to a priory. That should say plenty, and it costed not a penny.

In school, I was always one of those students for whom a B was a disappointment. Yeah, one of those; I do admit that I managed to fail two GCSEs (Music and Welsh, to be accurate), largely because in them, my heart wasn't content. And I wasn't very good at either.

In other academic areas, though, I had a lot of interests, which helped; I wasn't one of the class clowns. In fact, I despised them - "fail your education, if you will, but don't drag me down with you, cretins" and things like that. It was wrong of me to think of myself as superior to them (after all, it was incredibly likely that I was not), but I did. "All humans are not created equal" indeed. It's, obviously, not a particularly good mindset for someone who works in a hospital. But, simply put, it's a job. I get money for doing it.

That's all.

Last Shift for the Week

New blog post later tonight, then.


I'd forgotten that I'd made this thing. Almost regretting it, but it's a bit soon for that.

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The time is 2:30AM. I have to be awake and at work by seven o'clock.


Dammit.


While it may very well be my extreme tiredness talking, I am incredibly cynical about this. Hundreds of blogs must be made by people every day; how many of them last a week? How many are read normally? Not many, I am sure - and why should I be any different? I'm an untalented idiot.


... you know, it is only when I wrote that down that I realised how childish it made me seem. How foolish of me.


Perhaps a "proper" introduction is in order. My name, as you can see, is Concordia. You may think that this is hardly a real name: and indeed, it is not. It's a pseudonym; I have no intention of revealing my name to you all. Google is not hard to operate; if one of my co-workers found this, I would probably end up out of a job.


Speaking of my work, that is largely the problem. To put it lightly, I do not work in a field that is conducive to good health: indeed, it is in the health profession, which could be considered an irony. It is... stressful. I work shifts that are too long for comfort for too long a period of time.


... that seems so damn childish of me. Let us ignore this; I must apologise for the whining inherent in this post. I'm very tired. I wasn't even going to do this, but everything seems better when you haven't slept for this long. Whatever.


I am planning to use this blog as something of a stress reliever. While nobody will read it, perhaps somebody will, y'know? Maybe they'll sympathise, maybe they'll offer some emotional support.


This is reality, though. The advice I get will be useless, and certainly without merit.


And there goes the cynicism again. Sod this, I'm going to bed.