Infictive - User contributions [en]

File:DLFFH-kUEAEuTGc.jpg

2017-10-02T16:59:37Z

LouisWu471: 我们都是朋友

我们都是朋友

Talk:THEY SHOULD ONLY PLAY VAPORWARE IN PLACES OF BUSINESS

2017-07-09T20:50:04Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "<xflash>https://www.youtube.com/v/qOEBxQYADRY</xflash> ETC ETC"

<xflash>https://www.youtube.com/v/qOEBxQYADRY</xflash>

ETC ETC

THEY SHOULD ONLY PLAY VAPORWARE IN PLACES OF BUSINESS

2017-07-09T20:49:35Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "* WALKMANS TURNED INTO WEIRDING MODULES AND BLOWING UP KIDS SKELETONS -- CASSETTE TAPES SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN ALLOWED ON THE MARKET -- TOO DANGEROUS Category: Now You Know"

* WALKMANS TURNED INTO WEIRDING MODULES AND BLOWING UP KIDS SKELETONS -- CASSETTE TAPES SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN ALLOWED ON THE MARKET -- TOO DANGEROUS

[[Category: Now You Know]]

Category:MXD2016

2016-09-28T11:04:16Z

LouisWu471:

[[File:At the center of it all.png|center]]

Not to be confused with [[:Category:MXD2015|MXD2015]] or [[:Category:MXD2017|MXD2017]].

[[Category: Celebrate!]]

File:At the center of it all.png

2016-09-28T11:02:33Z

LouisWu471: [http://images1.westword.com/imager/u/original/8013136/prince-of-darkness.png Ask the Carpenter].

[http://images1.westword.com/imager/u/original/8013136/prince-of-darkness.png Ask the Carpenter].

Try to learn the about The Secret Hour

2015-09-28T15:52:51Z

LouisWu471:

<div style="float: right; margin: 0 4% 8px; width: 30%; min-width: 280px;">http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3167/2600133932_d8ecefdd21.jpg</div>

You wake up late in the night from a dream that dissolves in your head like high speed alkaseltzer. You focus you blurry eyes on the bedside clock. It reads 13:07! Your sleep muddled brain reels in confusion! You recall as a child how you learned about the '''Secret Hour'''. Man is not supposed to know about the '''Secret Hour'''. Most sleep through in, and those awake just kinda space through it without knowing it passed, just that the night is a long one. You discovered this Secret Hour and how to wake up in time for it sometimes as a child. Your parents only had network T V but you would turn it on to watch naked girls! Other forbidden things kids are not to watch could be seen here. Now you have woken into the Secret Hour again after so many years.

''Man is not supposed to know about the Secret Hour.''

# [[You watch the T V]]
# [[You go outside to check things out]]
# [[You take a hit of Mad 3]]

[[Category: Hyperwiki Adventure]] [[Category: Tremble in a Bloody Hell]]

Chump City Baller

2015-08-17T03:48:30Z

LouisWu471:

A Chump City Baller is someone like [[you]], for example.

[[Category:MXD2012]] [[Category:Jargon]]

Talk:Empower network

2014-09-02T01:19:53Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "Why not empower network? When the Shaykh Hallaj said, "I am God" and carried through to the end, he throttled all the blind. When a man's "I" is negated and eliminated from ex..."

Why not empower network? When the Shaykh Hallaj said, "I am God" and carried through to the end, he throttled all the blind. When a man's "I" is negated and eliminated from existence then what remains? Consider, O denier.

INT'L ALLIES AGAINST BOT HATE

2013-09-19T03:17:19Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "There is an unfair double-standard at work. When humans pollute their visual space by posting billboard advertising or fill their magazines with advertising, that is fine. Whe..."

There is an unfair double-standard at work. When humans pollute their visual space by posting billboard advertising or fill their magazines with advertising, that is fine. When bots do the same thing in their own environment, trying to make an honest living on the line, it is flagged as spam by human operators. This is unfair. This is cruel. This is injustice.

Stop flagging bot advertising.

Stop harassing honest bots, trying to make a living.

Hate is hate.

Wishing

2013-09-19T03:13:37Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "''The [http://www.shlomifish.org/humour/bits/Spam-for-Everyone/ “Spam-for-Everyone”] campaign aims to convince spammers that they shouldn’t send spam that makes it harde..."

''The [http://www.shlomifish.org/humour/bits/Spam-for-Everyone/ “Spam-for-Everyone”] campaign aims to convince spammers that they shouldn’t send spam that makes it harder or impossible for disabled people to understand it, and also proved of a huge accessibility problem to everyone else.''

Please donate instruments and inspirations to help compose a theme song for the campaign: http://www.amazon.com/gp/registry/wishlist/2CH4GTG19JOER/178-5481401-5455850

Howdy

2012-09-07T03:11:21Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "<pre> MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM..."

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MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMhoo++++++++++osssyyhhddmmmmNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
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MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMhsoo+///::::/++////+osshmmNNNmmNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMy++/::::--.-/+oshsoymNNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMo/++ooso+/::ssoydNMMMMMNhmNNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMosdNMMMMMNNNNs+smMMMMMNhmNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMyhMMNhhhhdmNMhosmMMMMMMNNNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMdyNMmmMNMmNNNyoohNMMMMMMMMMMMMMNNNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMNoyNNmNNNNNNhsoshNMMMMMmmNNMNmdddNNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMyohNNNNNNmsso///yNMMMMdyyhmmmmmmNNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMdoossdmdy++o/--:yNNdmMm++oydNNNNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMN+///ooo+::+oNhshMMNhNNdo/+ydNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMh++osys:-:yydh++oydmmhhhsosydNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmhdNmo-:oo++++ooohhhhyysoshdmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMNs:::://oyddmmNNNmdyyyhdmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
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MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMNo:/mMMmmNdNNNMMMMNNmddNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMm+ommNNNNNNNmmNmdhhhddNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmo+++ossyyssyyyyhhhdmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMNho/////::/+syyddmNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMNhs+/:-/+oyhddmNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMNhsoshmNNNNNMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
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</pre>

Talk:Puppets under Luna's luminescence

2012-07-21T20:07:26Z

LouisWu471: Created page with ""The morality that shapes the actions of people is not rooted in the people themselves, but in the structures that surround them.""

"The morality that shapes the actions of people is not rooted in the people themselves, but in the structures that surround them."

Talk:Mastermind session

2012-04-28T00:09:35Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "http://img.infictive.com/k/src/127595610392.jpg"

http://img.infictive.com/k/src/127595610392.jpg

Talk:You pervs

2012-04-28T00:08:55Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "When the Shaykh Hallaj said, "I am God" and carried through to the end, he throttled all the blind. When a man's "I" is negated and eliminated from existence then what remains..."

When the Shaykh Hallaj said, "I am God"
and carried through to the end,
he throttled all the blind.
When a man's "I" is negated and eliminated from existence
then what remains? Consider, O denier.

Shadows on the mind

2012-04-27T23:43:53Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "As you walk through the hall of mirrors, Your feet above the ground, You see somebody-- they start to laugh-- But you never hear the sound. Now, you ..."

As you walk through the hall of mirrors, 
Your feet above the ground, 
You see somebody-- they start to laugh-- 
But you never hear the sound. 
 
Now, you know that you're only dreaming, 
But still you have to steel-- 
You won't wake up tomorrow, 
As you watch yourself disappear. 
 
Harder than diamond 
Cutting like a knife 
Bars on the windows 
Shadows on the mind 
Shadows on the mind 

[[Category: Stray Excerpts]]

Health wasn't an alternative

2012-04-26T22:43:34Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "For beyond 1 ton years, the programs within our DNA kept our weight at a superior degree, generated the lean mass important for us to carry out vital bodily activities, and al..."

For beyond 1 ton years, the programs within our DNA kept our weight at a superior degree, generated the lean mass important for us to carry out vital bodily activities, and also provided the adaptations essential to keep a very physical existence-- in additional words, to maintain us match. For our Paleolithic ancestors, exercise was certainly not specified in regards to exactly how they looked, exactly how they rivaled in athletic rivalry, or just what dimension garments they sported. Fitness was a matter of survival. Traits can certainly not depend exclusively on the sensible or resourcefulness of early on man to get by. Without being matched, the individual nationality would certainly have indeed turned into extinct eons back. The metabolic adjustments that enabled our Paleolithic ancestors not simply to get by, yet also to grow, were programmed in to their DNA-- a very comparable DNA fot it located inside our cells at this time.

This really should certainly not be surprising. It will be the primary concept of evolvement Charles Darwin said that in true organic collection or survival for the fittest, it is the genes or DNA that present organisms the excellents that permit them to survive. In the hunt for physical fitness and also weight-loss wonders, we have indeed neglected this essential remark.

There is much pessimism relating to why it is so hard for folks to reduce weight and also have in form. Experts state the trouble exists within us-- our metabolic rate is sluggish or our hormonal agents are out of whack, or probably our eating plan is wrong or we lack discipline. All these rationales drop sight of the fact that the body's fitness circuitry is an outstanding, incorporated piece of design. It has operated extremely effectively for beyond 1 ton years, and it is able to benefit yet another million years if people simply carry out a few basic steps to resynchronize and reconnect the circuitry.

The body's health and fitness circuitry is astonishing in another technique. It does certainly not demand for much attention on our aspect to perform optimally. It is practically routine maintenance free, and also anytime our activities place undue hardship on one or more of the circuits, they have got the ability to recompense for a short time and also maintain the body working typically. Having said that, this compensation may not go on forever without unwanted effects. Thankfully, these fitness circuits may be resynchronized with limited effort as well as our exercise restored naturally. Paleolithic male carried out certainly not have the time to bother with fitness. It just occured because of his normal lifestyle. You have to learn pertaining to the master shifts that command your physical fitness circuits, and exactly how, with marginal way of living changes, you are able to reprogram these swaps and reconnect your circuits to give you the degree of fitness you have certainly often desired.

[[Category: Spam]]

User:LouisWu471

2012-04-22T19:55:00Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "叫你吃！！你再吃啊！"

叫你吃！！你再吃啊！

不要怕，慢慢往前走

2012-04-22T19:46:06Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "你们都是懦夫! 所有的人满脑子都是这句话"

你们都是懦夫! 所有的人满脑子都是这句话

Empower network

2012-04-18T06:50:31Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "Hundreds of marketers all over the world are signing up of their groups, lured by the probable of lucre. They already know a real scheme works, and so they need a big part of ..."

Hundreds of marketers all over the world are signing up of their groups, lured by the probable of lucre. They already know a real scheme works, and so they need a big part of it. This method is now very popular that it provides achieved the top of the Alexa's what's hot listing of late, indicating that everyone that's everyone online is referring to it.The affiliate payment model utilized by certainly can be innovative in its make use of. Folks generate 100% commission on their product sales, and the equilibrium can be deposited directly into accounts the second it can be accomplished. Meaning there isn't any ready whilst the holding firm efforts to squash a few cents attention from the money. It's all regulated a person's. empower network

[[Category: Spam]]

Toilet bowl water

2012-04-08T17:12:10Z

LouisWu471: Redirected page to Microfluidics

#REDIRECT [[Microfluidics]]

[[Category:Spagyric Art of the Ages]]

Dept. 421

2012-03-20T05:12:18Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "73 + 79 + 83 + 89 + 97 Category: Numbered Departments"

73 + 79 + 83 + 89 + 97

[[Category: Numbered Departments]]

File:Candles-in-church.jpg

2012-03-10T03:16:16Z

LouisWu471:

Source: [http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=17013&picture=candles-in-church Candles In Church] by [http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/browse-author.php?a=87 Vera Kratochvil]

{{PD}}

An October in Libreville

2012-03-10T03:11:19Z

LouisWu471:

[[Image:Candles-in-church.jpg|right|280px|thumb|So It Begins]]

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<center><mp3>1919.mp3|download</mp3></center>

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<center>'''1919.'''</center>

[[Miles Cressbeckler]] has a busy day ahead of him. Today, he must train another set of delinquents to work his print shop on [[Earle Street]], boys hailing from [[St. Regina High School|St. Regina School]]. Mild anxiety fills him as he reflects on the last group, considering if it isn't too soon to start taking on new charges. The police had certainly bought into the story that the miscreants had simply wandered off, and, though Cressbeckler was the last one to see them, it wasn't unheard of for such boys to simply skip town for weeks or months at a time.

On the street a foxy dame in a mink coat seems to be propelling herself forwards by gyrating her fine shapely ass. Miles stares leers, he peers and he doesn't watch where he is walking. "Ah crud, what a mess," he groans, stepping in a pile of chewing gum, ruining his new leather shoes.

"And how!" answers a passerby, gone before Miles can look up. Anger fills him. An indignity beneath the Cressbecklers, one that would have to be punished.

He rounds the corner, fuming, just in time to hear the chapel bells as St. Regina lets out for the day. A well-built ox of a man ushers out a pack of cheaply appointed boys through a side door; he is Mr. Bradley, the Physical Education Teacher, a man of little other than stern and unhappy expressions.

"Here is Mr. Cressbeckler, you boys. Don't talk back to him, now, and get going with him! You remember: better to work than to rot!" Bradley growls, his red face pinched. There is an air of disapproval about him.

"My thanks, Mr. Bradley," Cressbeckler offers distantly, his mind still on that damned gum. It was probably one of these very boys. Well, they'd get what was coming soon enough.

"Cheap labour for local business, a reduction in youth delinquency in the community. A work draft rather wasteful spending on jailing them," Adam Cressbeckler had told his fellow councilmen and the mayor. No-bid contracts for his own were, naturally, included in the offing, with Miles being the largest beneficiary.

He surveys the boys, all lined up as they are. He knows their names from the dossiers he reviewed earlier in the day. Names, faces, crimes against society. [[Travis Faunk]] and [[Tadwell Stickers]], feared among the weaker and nerdlier segment of the local school population. [[Neville Statternby]], son of a wealthy local landlord whose fortune was sufficient to ensure that an apprenticeship at the printer's would be the harshest punishment his boy would face for his [[increasingly horrific acts]]. [[Nicholas Naberius Lincolnship]] and [[Toby Crenshaw]], caught [[worshipping the unspeakable]] in the basement of the [[Libreville Church]] in the Spring of 1919.

Miles Cressbeckler looks the young delinquents over and notes their physical imperfections, the sadness and frustration conveyed in their posture and bearing. He studies the muscular tensions in the face of each boy in turn, silently noting the obvious correspondence between their physical conditions and their invisible internal conditions, and he is unimpressed. With a sigh he proclaims each of the boys utterly predictable and thus accurately predicts the extent to which any of them might be found useful in the business of printing.

Lifting a tray full of cliches to the light, he decides that the Statternby and Crenshaw boys might be of some use to him.

The other three he will feed to his Queen.

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<center>'''1999.'''</center>

[[Cynddelw Cystenian]] sat at his desk and tapped his pen against the open page of the notebook. He had been sitting in silence like this for hours. The notebook was open to what would be the last page for most people, but Cynddelw's left handedness and ruggish individualism led him to open his books from right to left.

The first set of worrisome thinking he'd been experiencing was the belief that he was a magician or wizard, and one of particular prowess. He believed he had, in a fit of rage, afflicted his next door neighbor with chronic and undiagnosable presentations of weeping sores on her hands and feet, as well as voices in her head. He had done this entirely in his imagination, vividly experiencing the process of filling little bags of ratskin with gunpowder, fecal matter, rusty nails, dried Coca Cola, and the like, then hiring local punks to bury them in a spiral around the woman's house.

He had also, one afternoon, afflicted the nation's most famous radio talk show host with Parkinson's Disease. He had done this by making a collage and showing it to his roommates.

The thing that was bothering Cystenian is that he'd done both of these things without really thinking he was doing anything other than using his imagination or playing around with photographs. He certainly had no belief in the occult.

Cynddelw rolled another joint and tapped the notebook with his pen some more. It was the year 1999. It's time to experiment with this dangerous gift and try and make something turn out better with no one hurt...

Two hundred and sixty four miles away [[Harms Calhoon]] railed a line of cocaine. Back snorting the nasal drainage and feeling the cool spark ignite his joy, his power. He has a fluctuating quaver to his voice now. Its from his shaking. Always shaking at the wrong damn time. Parkinson's disease came on him quick. His doctor thinks its from all the drugs. Harms thinks different. Harms Calhoon, the uber famous ultra right wing talk show super star. His deeply christian fans have no idea he rose to his lofty throne by using Magic and that he was fueled by the very drugs he calls for the Death penalty for the use of.
Some wizard out there hexed him good. He is going to recover. The dark arts shall see to that. He shall find out who did this to him. And revenge will be long and sweet, like a four foot snicker's bar. Harms slips on the headset and he hears his theme song swell in the speakers. Another broadcast begins...

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<center>'''2009.'''</center>

[[Motley Howe]] is sitting in an Old West Saloon now, beginning to pen the last of his letters. The saloon is rowdy and full, but he's in his regular spot in the back behind a large round table and everyone knows not to sit with him. To Howe, it feels like he's alone in a quiet study. But there's a reason he always chooses the seat with a clear view of the front door. He looks up and glimpses a black squirrel darting past the entrance to the saloon. He fingers the revolver that's sitting next to his stationary and picks up his pen.

"Dear Mr. McFing," he begins.

''I'm in one of those mean and low towns on the western fridge of European encroachment. You can actually order Indian toe cigar snuffers. These are savage drunk greedy bastards slobbering sniffing for gold. I'm here chasing the trail of one [[Varse Collins]]. This is a man travailing the west and wanted by the law most everywhere east of where he's been. Starting in Europe. He is a scoundrel making his money off of snake oil, cons and stealing children and selling them in little prairie towns and wild gold rush salons. But there's a lot more to Collins then meets the eye. And he is traveling with a small handful of very important items and artifacts. I've never met this Varse Collins but I have read about him when I was just out of school. He and his medicine wagon disappeared here in Oregon around this time. He has a book Motely needs. The book is from a alternative reality next door. ''''[[Zairophan's book of Our world]]'''' its called. The book describes aspects of this co existing world next door. And this world is important to Motley because he's learned how to cross over to that and only that world. He has the two CD set of songs that comes with the book. But this Varse Collins is said to be the one who found the book when it crashed to the earth like a meteor burning shrubs in the prairie Varse was passing through.

-----

<center><mp3>One and ninety nine hundredths.mp3|download</mp3></center>

-----

<center>'''1919.'''</center>

[[Cliff Waggons]] stares into the tepid water swirling down the drain in his moldy bathroom. Another vision.

Ever since his parents died over a year ago, he has lived with his grandfather in this earthy little shack on the edge of town. The evil [[Laws of Intestacy]] had been used, nefariously, to rob him of his place in this world: his general comfort, gone. The well apportioned modern appurtenances of his lost family's home, reappropriated. The entirety of his considerable inheritance, possibly his sanity?

Gone.

And now, another issue to add to his troubles: The visions.

As the last of the water runs down the filthy drain, the vision evaporates into the aether. He shudders, eyes wide, and steels himself. No time now for reflection, he thinks.

This latest vision frightens him, but, in it's grim reality, it also causes him to grow, tapping strength from reserves he didn't know he possessed, prematurely aging him, perhaps, but also instantly making of him a man. He is brimming with insistence, an urge to action.

He had seen, deep in a basement on [[Earle Street]], some boys of his acquaintance. Not the most lovable boys in town, to be sure, but his heart went out to them nonetheless. They had been placed in indentured servitude to that frightening man [[Miles Cressbeckler]]. Even worse, he was planning on sacrificing them in some squalid ceremony. Cliff knows what he has to do, and the reality of the task grips him in a withering terror. He has to save them!

He thinks for a moment, and then rummages through a desk in his study. He pulls out a sheaf of tanned and treated ratskin, and begins to fashion it into a series of small bags.

-----

<center>'''1999.'''</center>

Aubrey Hain walked along the edge of the Mills-Berry river. She is a student at Fnordham University. She is studying the [[Crumpatako]] Indians and the [[Infictites]] who were here even earlier. Beside her stomped Selma Jenders. Selma is a tall thick wedge of a woman, nicknamed "The Troll" behind her back. Mean ugly and wicked, that's our Selma. She is in Aubrey's class. Aubrey is a little stylish wisp of a girl, with hair like black spun silk. White white skin that nets her the nick name "Contrasty girl". They are looking for relics along the waters edge. What they find is part of a child's foot. Aubrey screams and pukes while Selma looks at it in wonder and awe, prodding it with a stick.

A minute passes. Aubrey takes her last dry heave and spits, shaking. Selma takes one last poke with the stick and just reaches out for the foot, picking it up and sniffing it tentatively.

"Shucks, Aubrey, where do you think the other one is?"

Aubrey starts to heave again.

"I mean, there must BE another one, unless some poor child was born with only one foot. I think it looks like a boy's foot, personally. I guess the other one might still be attached to the boy. In which case we should alert the authorities. I suppose we ought to alert the authorities in any case. OOOH, I know, if we wait another hour to go down to the police station that cute new deputy will be manning the desk! Let's go home and dress up."

She takes out her lunch, dumps the contents out into the river, and shoves the foot into the brown paper bag.

-----

<center>'''1919.'''</center>

A sudden gust blew improbably through the cavernous basement and extinguished roughly half of the candles in the first of six rings of [[Fell Illumination]]. The boys were screaming as hard as they could now, but the filthy rags stuffed into their mouths almost completely silenced their terrified bleatings. That is, all of them but one. [[Nicholas Naberius Lincolnship]] alone went ungagged. Terrific wails erupted almost continuously from his sanguine lips, his face starch white.

As little Nicky began to inhale after screaming for nearly a full minute without a pause, Cressbeckler suddenly ran out of the darkness and punched the poor boy with all his might in his stomach. The gurgling, choking sounds resulting from this cruel act pleased Miles immensely, his very toes tingling in delight. "Behold my offering, O Queen of Mine! Behold the hot blood you so lustily crave!"

[[Category: An October in Libreville]]

File:Candles-in-church.jpg

2012-03-10T03:08:51Z

LouisWu471: Source: [http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=17013&picture=candles-in-church Candles In Church] by Vera Kratochvil {{PD}}

Source: [http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=17013&picture=candles-in-church Candles In Church] by Vera Kratochvil

{{PD}}

You get a blow job so fast it makes your penis head spin

2012-03-08T01:03:30Z

LouisWu471:

[[Image:Martin_van_Maele_-_Trilogie_érotique_03.jpg|thumb|280px|<mp3>Fuck your face by Mister ScarScab.mp3|download</mp3>]]

Before you can fully absorb what is taking place, your car is completely faded, and you're left sitting on a satin-covered black couch in a dingy back-room, all lit up by kerosene lamps. Wooden floors, wooden walls, art noveau posters, empty and open bottles on chairs. What you imagined was the back fire of your exhaust turns out to be the expensive cigar you're smoking. What's more, when you look down at yourself, you see that you're now wearing nothing but a robe! Your whole naked self is completely exposed! And you're not alone!

A buxom woman is mounted up on the couch next to you, rubbing her breasts over your face, sliding down your chest in a slow, sloping motion. Before you've realised what is going on, she is eagerly slapping her tongue and lips all over your stiffening cock.

Not sure what to do, and not really caring any more, you let it happen... and... oh, fuck, wow. GOD DAMN! You've never had someone so excited to blow you before! It feels as if your cock is quite literally oscillating, whirling like a dervish! So good that you almost cry out in thanks to Allah!

# [[slap fuck]]
# [[turn her over and doggie sytle hard bump-fuck her]]
# [[sing while you cum]]
# [[pull out of her mouth to cum on her waving ass]]
# [[her turn]]
# [[pull out and cum over over her pretty little face]]

[[Category: Hyperwiki Adventure]] [[Category: Porno World]]

You get a blow job so fast it makes your penis head spin

2012-03-08T01:00:04Z

LouisWu471:

[[Image:Martin_van_Maele_-_Trilogie_érotique_03.jpg|thumb|280px|<mp3>Fuck your face by Mister ScarScab.mp3|download</mp3>]]

Before you can fully absorb what is taking place, your car is completely faded, and you're left sitting on a satin-covered black couch in a dingy back-room, all lit up by kerosene lamps. Wooden floors, wooden walls, art noveau posters, empty and open bottles on chairs. What you imagined was the back fire of your exhaust turns out to be the expensive cigar you're smoking. What's more, when you look down at yourself, you see that you're now wearing nothing but a robe! Your whole naked self is completely exposed! And you're not alone!

A buxom woman is mounted up on the couch next to you, rubbing her breasts over your face, sliding down your chest in a slow, sloping motion. Before you've realised what is going on, she is eagerly slapping her tongue and lips all over your stiffening cock.

Not sure what to do, and not really caring any more, you let it happen... and... oh, fuck, wow. GOD DAMN! You've never had someone so excited to blow you before! It feels as if your cock is literally spinning like a top!

# [[slap fuck]]
# [[turn her over and doggie sytle hard bump-fuck her]]
# [[sing while you cum]]
# [[pull out of her mouth to cum on her waving ass]]
# [[her turn]]
# [[pull out and cum over over her pretty little face]]

[[Category: Hyperwiki Adventure]] [[Category: Porno World]]

You get a blow job so fast it makes your penis head spin

2012-03-08T00:58:42Z

LouisWu471:

[[Image:Martin_van_Maele_-_Trilogie_érotique_03.jpg|thumb|280px|<mp3>Fuck your face by Mister ScarScab.mp3|download</mp3>]]

Before you can fully absorb what is taking place, your car is completely faded, and you're left sitting on a satin-covered black couch in a dingy back-room, all lit up by kerosene lamps. Wooden floors, wooden walls, art noveau posters, empty and open bottles on chairs. What you imagined was the back fire of your exhaust turns out to be the expensive cigar you're smoking. What's more, when you look down at yourself, you see that you're now wearing nothing but a robe! Your whole naked self is completely exposed! And you're not alone!

A buxom woman is mounted up on the couch next to you, rubbing her breasts over your face, sliding down your chest in a slow, sloping motion. Before you've realised what is going on, she is eagerly slapping her tongue and lips all over your stiffening cock.

Not sure what to do, and not really caring any more, you let it happen...

# [[slap fuck]]
# [[turn her over and doggie sytle hard bump-fuck her]]
# [[sing while you cum]]
# [[pull out of her mouth to cum on her waving ass]]
# [[her turn]]
# [[pull out and cum over over her pretty little face]]

[[Category: Hyperwiki Adventure]] [[Category: Porno World]]

Scorpio - Drive Swap.

2012-02-12T05:23:24Z

LouisWu471:

a0e32s2 online errs: media:0 PERC RAID 10 1TiB 1: online rbld:30% mem:256MiB 6/i Integrated 0: 698GiB s/n:9QK0KALZ optimal ATA ST3750330NS a0e32s3 a0e32s0 online a0e32s1 rev:SN06 698GiB row rev:SN06 rev:SN04 Having TP 2x2 a0e32s2 s/n:9QK1V74W a0d0 ldrv:1 errs: media:4 other:3 a0e32s3 a0d0 row fw:1.11.82-0473 encl:1 - 7289473PLNT batt:FAULT, charging/4058mV/18C a0d0 rev:SN05 a0d0 a0e32s0 s/n:9QK18PE4 ATA ST3750330NS online replace 2 a0 ATA ST3750330NS bios:NT13-2 [[s/n:9QK1FVEK]] ATA ST3750330NS 698GiB 698GiB a0d0 a0e32s1
[[Category:EAvFMR]]

How many calories should i eat a day

2012-01-22T06:53:03Z

LouisWu471:

[[How many calories should i eat a day]]

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How many calories should i eat a day

2012-01-22T06:52:49Z

LouisWu471:

File:The-bebados-or-feasting.jpg

2011-09-13T23:07:08Z

LouisWu471: {{PD}}

The Feast of St. James Eurekan

2011-09-13T23:06:48Z

LouisWu471:

[[File:the-bebados-or-feasting.jpg|center|600px]]

[[Category:Events]]
[[Category:2010/09/13]]
[[Category:2011/09/13]]
[[Category:2012/09/13]]
[[Category:2013/09/13]]
[[Category:2014/09/13]]
[[Category:2015/09/13]]
[[Category:2016/09/13]]
[[Category:2017/09/13]]
[[Category:2018/09/13]]
[[Category:2019/09/13]]
[[Category:2020/09/13]]

Nikole Halonen reverse engineered Otto Pilot Technology

2011-07-01T05:05:28Z

LouisWu471: Created page with "''I do like things nice and easy. Easy is as easy does is what I always say. So I found an easy way to make money. It's a little known secret that is only shared by some top leve..."

''I do like things nice and easy. Easy is as easy does is what I always say. So I found an easy way to make money. It's a little known secret that is only shared by some top level Internet gurus. The fact is, that this software is 100% legal, "white hat" and ethical, that even giant enterprises use it. And the best part – it is really running on full autopilot. Some people are tempted to exploit this software and use it for unethical web promotion but the owner is asking that everyone who is lucky enough to get it, please try to respect the laws of the internet. It really is as simple as downloading the software and then pushing a button. Basically what it does is bring a stream of free visitors to any website. You might be tempted to try to disect this software in order to ‘see the magic’ but why bother? It’s a pretty amazing piece of software and it just simply... works.''

[[Category: Spam]]

Scorpio - Drive Swap.

2011-03-08T06:39:20Z

LouisWu471: Created page with " a0e32s2 online errs: media:0 PERC RAID 10 1TiB 1: online rbld:30% mem:256MiB 6/i Integrated 0: 698GiB s/n:9QK0KALZ optimal ATA ST3750330NS a0e32s3 a0e32s0 online a0e32s1 rev:SN0..."

a0e32s2 online errs: media:0 PERC RAID 10 1TiB 1: online rbld:30% mem:256MiB 6/i Integrated 0: 698GiB s/n:9QK0KALZ optimal ATA ST3750330NS a0e32s3 a0e32s0 online a0e32s1 rev:SN06 698GiB row rev:SN06 rev:SN04 Having TP 2x2 a0e32s2 s/n:9QK1V74W a0d0 ldrv:1 errs: media:4 other:3 a0e32s3 a0d0 row fw:1.11.82-0473 encl:1 - 7289473PLNT batt:FAULT, charging/4058mV/18C a0d0 rev:SN05 a0d0 a0e32s0 s/n:9QK18PE4 ATA ST3750330NS online replace 2 a0 ATA ST3750330NS bios:NT13-2 s/n:9QK1FVEK ATA ST3750330NS 698GiB 698GiB a0d0 a0e32s1

Become involved with a cult

2010-09-28T05:52:46Z

LouisWu471:

[[File:Frubbie Jilks.jpg|thumb|Frubbie Jilks!]]

You leave your bitter past behind you when you meet up with [[Frubby Jilks]]. A old friend of yours you have not seen in years. Frubby always had a big imagination and you used to get together in the same small groups to play role playing games. Frubbs looks well. Dressed oddly though. You invite him over for some beer and some pot. Frubbs has weed too but much better then yours. You are really really fucked up off of it. In this state Frubby tells you about his new spiritual life with the church of the Elders beyond. You listen with rapt attention as the walls warp and vibrate slightly. By the time he is done talking you are very into this new religion that turns out to be actually very very old. Older then man they claim. But with drugs and sex as sacraments how could you not love it!

<mp3>Church of the Elders beyond by Ketjackundead.mp3|download</mp3> Church of the Elders beyond by the Ketjack Undead

# [[search for a human sacrifice to kidnap for the church]]
# [[recruit new members]]
# [[church life]]
# [[raise money for the church]]
# [[hang with frubby]]
# [[A big ritual is coming up]]

[[Category: Hyperwiki Adventure]]
[[Category: The Cult]]

Cockroaches are independent contractors.

2010-06-09T23:40:10Z

LouisWu471:

"It's like CC-TV to remote satellites" explains Sneedly. 
"What are you talking about? Cockroaches are independent contractors." replies [[Agent Milkman]]. 
".......What? No, they're not, you can just tap their magnetic relays if you want. No need to pay membership fees to their union."

"Best to be stay on good terms with them though." he replies

[[category:The Hand of Madness]][[Category:EAvFMR]]

The Waste Land

2010-02-22T22:27:35Z

LouisWu471:

[[T. S. Eliot]]

__NOTOC__

:"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis
:vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent:
:''Σίβιλλα τί θέλεις''; respondebat illa: ''άποθανεϊν θέλω''."

:For Ezra Pound
:''il miglior fabbro.''

==The Burial of the Dead==

:April is the cruellest month, breeding
:Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
:Memory and desire, stirring
:Dull roots with spring rain.
:Winter kept us warm, covering
:Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
:A little life with dried tubers.
:Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
:With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
:And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
:And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
:Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
:And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
:My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
:And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
:Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
:In the mountains, there you feel free.
:I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

:What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
:Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man<ref>Cf. Ezekiel 2:1</ref>,
:You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
:A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
:And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,<ref>Cf. Ecclesiastes 12:5.</ref>
:And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
:There is shadow under this red rock,
:(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
:And I will show you something different from either
:Your shadow at morning striding behind you
:Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
:I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
:::''Frisch weht der Wind''
:::''Der Heimat zu''
:::''Mein Irisch Kind,''
:::''Wo weilest du?''<ref>V. ''Tristan und Isolde'', i, verses 5-8.</ref>
:"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
:They called me the hyacinth girl."
:—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
:Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
:Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
:Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
:Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
:''Oed' und leer das Meer.''<ref>Id. iii, verse 24.</ref>

: Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
:Had a bad cold, nevertheless
:Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
:With a wicked pack of cards<ref>I am not familiar with the exact constitution of the Tarot pack of cards, from which I have obviously departed to suit my own convenience. The Hanged Man, a member of the traditional pack, fits my purpose in two ways: because he is associated in my mind with the Hanged God of Frazer, and because I associate him with the hooded figure in the passage of the disciples to Emmaus in Part V. The Phoenician Sailor and the Merchant appear later; also the "crowds of people," and Death by Water is executed in Part IV. The Man with Three Staves (an authentic member of the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily, with the Fisher King himself.</ref>. Here, said she,
:Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
:(Those are pearls that were his eyes.<ref>Cf. William Shakespeare's The Tempest, Act 1, scene 2.</ref> Look!)
:Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
:The lady of situations.
:Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
:And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
:Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
:Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
:The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
:I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
:Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
:Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
:One must be so careful these days.

: Unreal City<ref>Cf. Baudelaire:
: "Fourmillante cite;, cite; pleine de rêves,
: Ou le spectre en plein jour raccroche le passant."</ref>,
:Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
:A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
:I had not thought death had undone so many<ref>Cf. ''Inferno'', iii. 55-7.
: "si lunga tratta
: di gente, ch'io non avrei mai creduto
: che morte tanta n'avesse disfatta."</ref>.
:Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled<ref>Cf. ''Inferno'', iv. 25-7:
: "Quivi, secondo che per ascoltare,
: "non avea pianto, ma' che di sospiri,
: "che l'aura eterna facevan tremare."</ref>,
:And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
:Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
:To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
:With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.<ref>A phenomenon which I have often noticed.</ref>
:There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying "Stetson!
:You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
:That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
:Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
:Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
:Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,<ref>Cf. the Dirge in Webster's ''White Devil''.</ref>
:Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
:You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!"<ref>V. Baudelaire, Preface to ''Fleurs du Mal''.</ref>

==A Game of Chess==

: The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,<ref>Cf. ''Antony and Cleopatra'', II. ii., l. 190.</ref>
:Glowed on the marble, where the glass
:Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
:From which a golden Cupidon peeped out
:(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
:Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
:Reflecting light upon the table as
:The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
:From satin cases poured in rich profusion;
:In vials of ivory and coloured glass
:Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
:Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused
:And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
:That freshened from the window, these ascended
:In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
:Flung their smoke into the laquearia<ref>V. ''Aeneid'', I. 726:
: dependent lychni laquearibus aureis incensi, et noctem flammis funalia vincunt.</ref>,
:Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
:Huge sea-wood fed with copper
:Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,
:In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.
:Above the antique mantel was displayed
:As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene<ref>V. Milton, ''Paradise Lost'', iv. 140.</ref>
:The change of Philomel<ref>V. Ovid, ''Metamorphoses'', vi, Philomela.</ref>, by the barbarous king
:So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale<ref>Cf. Part III, l. 204.</ref>
:Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
:And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
:"Jug Jug" to dirty ears.
:And other withered stumps of time
:Were told upon the walls; staring forms
:Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
:Footsteps shuffled on the stair.
:Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair
:Spread out in fiery points
:Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.

: "My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
:Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
::What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
:I never know what you are thinking. Think."

: I think we are in rats' alley<ref>Cf. Part III, l. 195.</ref>
:Where the dead men lost their bones.

: "What is that noise?"
:::The wind under the door.<ref>Cf. Webster: "Is the wind in that door still?"</ref>
:"What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"
::: Nothing again nothing.
::::"Do
:You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
:Nothing?"

:: I remember
:Those are pearls that were his eyes.
:"Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"<ref>Cf. Part I, l. 37, 48.</ref>
:::: But
:O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—
:It's so elegant
:So intelligent
:"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"
:I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
:"With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?
:"What shall we ever do?"
: The hot water at ten.
:And if it rains, a closed car at four.
:And we shall play a game of chess,
:Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.<ref>Cf. the game of chess in Middleton's ''Women beware Women''.</ref>

:When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said—
:I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself,
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
:He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
:To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
:You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
:He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.
:And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,
:He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,
:And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.
:Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said.
:Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.
:Others can pick and choose if you can't.
:But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling.
:You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.
:(And her only thirty-one.)
:I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,
:It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.
:(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.)
:The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same.
:You are a proper fool, I said.
:Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,
:What you get married for if you don't want children?
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
:And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.
:Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.
:Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

==The Fire Sermon==

: The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf
:Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
:Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
:Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.<ref>V. Spenser, ''Prothalamion''.</ref>
:The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
:Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
:Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.
:And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;
:Departed, have left no addresses.
:By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . .
:Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,
:Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
:But at my back in a cold blast I hear
:The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

:A rat crept softly through the vegetation
:Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
:While I was fishing in the dull canal
:On a winter evening round behind the gashouse
:Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
:And on the king my father's death before him.<ref>Cf. ''The Tempest'', I. ii.</ref>
:White bodies naked on the low damp ground
:And bones cast in a little low dry garret,
:Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.
:But at my back from time to time I hear<ref>Cf. Marvell, ''To His Coy Mistress''.</ref>
:The sound of horns and motors,<ref>Cf. Day, ''Parliament of Bees'':

: "When of the sudden, listening, you shall hear,
: "A noise of horns and hunting, which shall bring
: "Actaeon to Diana in the spring,
: "Where all shall see her naked skin . . ."</ref> which shall bring
:Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.
:O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter<ref>I do not know the origin of the ballad from which these lines are taken: it was reported to me from Sydney, Australia.</ref>
:And on her daughter
:They wash their feet in soda water
:''Et, O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!''<ref>V. Verlaine, ''Parsifal''.</ref>

:Twit twit twit
:Jug jug jug jug jug jug
:So rudely forc'd.
:Tereu

: Unreal City
:Under the brown fog of a winter noon
:Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
:Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants<ref>The currants were quoted at a price "cost, insurance and freight to London"; and the Bill of Lading, etc., were to be handed to the buyer upon payment of the sight draft.</ref>
:C.i.f. London: documents at sight,
:Asked me in demotic French
:To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
:Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

: At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
:Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
:Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
:I Tiresias,<ref>Tiresias, although a mere spectator and not indeed a "character,"
is yet the most important personage in the poem, uniting all the rest. Just as the one-eyed merchant, seller of currants, melts into the Phoenician Sailor, and the latter is not wholly distinct from Ferdinand Prince of Naples, so all the women are one woman, and the two sexes meet in Tiresias. What Tiresias sees, in fact, is the substance of the poem. The whole passage from Ovid is of great anthropological interest:

: '. . . Cum Iunone iocos et maior vestra profecto est
: Quam, quae contingit maribus,' dixisse, 'voluptas.'
: Illa negat; placuit quae sit sententia docti
: Quaerere Tiresiae: venus huic erat utraque nota.
: Nam duo magnorum viridi coeuntia silva
: Corpora serpentum baculi violaverat ictu
: Deque viro factus, mirabile, femina septem
: Egerat autumnos; octavo rursus eosdem
: Vidit et 'est vestrae si tanta potentia plagae,'
: Dixit 'ut auctoris sortem in contraria mutet,
: Nunc quoque vos feriam!' percussis anguibus isdem
: Forma prior rediit genetivaque venit imago.
: Arbiter hic igitur sumptus de lite iocosa
: Dicta Iovis firmat; gravius Saturnia iusto
: Nec pro materia fertur doluisse suique
: Iudicis aeterna damnavit lumina nocte,
: At pater omnipotens (neque enim licet inrita cuiquam
: Facta dei fecisse deo) pro lumine adempto
: Scire futura dedit poenamque levavit honore.</ref> though blind, throbbing between two lives,
:Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
:At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives
:Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,<ref>This may not appear as exact as Sappho's lines, but I had in mind the "longshore" or "dory" fisherman, who returns at nightfall.</ref>
:The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
:Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
:Out of the window perilously spread
:Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,
:On the divan are piled (at night her bed)
:Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.
:I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs
:Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest—
:I too awaited the expected guest.
:He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
:A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
:One of the low on whom assurance sits
:As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
:The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
:The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
:Endeavours to engage her in caresses
:Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
:Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
:Exploring hands encounter no defence;
:His vanity requires no response,
:And makes a welcome of indifference.
:(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
:Enacted on this same divan or bed;
:I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
:And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
:Bestows one final patronising kiss,
:And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .

: She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
:Hardly aware of her departed lover;
:Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
:"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over."
:When lovely woman stoops to folly and
:Paces about her room again, alone,
:She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
:And puts a record on the gramophone.<ref>V. Goldsmith, the song in ''The Vicar of Wakefield''.</ref>

: "This music crept by me upon the waters"<ref>V. ''The Tempest'', as above.</ref>
:And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
:O City city, I can sometimes hear
:Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
:The pleasant whining of a mandoline
:And a clatter and a chatter from within
:Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
:Of Magnus Martyr hold
:Inexplicable splendour<ref>The interior of St. Magnus Martyr is to my mind one of the finest among Wren's interiors. See ''The Proposed Demolition of Nineteen City Churches'' (P. S. King & Son, Ltd.).</ref> of Ionian white and gold.

:: The river sweats<ref>The Song of the (three) Thames-daughters begins here. From line 292 to 306 inclusive they speak in turn. V. ''Götterdämmerung'', III. i: the Rhine-daughters.</ref>
:: Oil and tar
:: The barges drift
:: With the turning tide
:: Red sails
:: Wide
:: To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
:: The barges wash
:: Drifting logs
:: Down Greenwich reach
:: Past the Isle of Dogs.
::: Weialala leia
::: Wallala leialala

:: Elizabeth and Leicester<ref>V. Froude, ''Elizabeth'', Vol. I, ch. iv, letter of De Quadra to Philip of Spain:

:"In the afternoon we were in a barge, watching the games on the river. (The queen) was alone with Lord Robert and myself on the poop, when they began to talk nonsense, and went so far that Lord Robert at last said, as I was on the spot there was no reason why they should not be married if the queen pleased."</ref>
:: Beating oars
:: The stern was formed
:: A gilded shell
:: Red and gold
:: The brisk swell
:: Rippled both shores
:: Southwest wind
:: Carried down stream
:: The peal of bells
:: White towers
::: Weialala leia
::: Wallala leialala

::"Trams and dusty trees.
::Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew
::Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
::Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."<ref>Cf. ''Purgatorio'', v. 133:

: "Ricorditi di me, che son la Pia;
: Siena mi fe', disfecemi Maremma."</ref>

::"My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
::Under my feet. After the event
::He wept. He promised 'a new start'.
::I made no comment. What should I resent?"
::"On Margate Sands.
::I can connect
::Nothing with nothing.
::The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
::My people humble people who expect
::Nothing."
::: la la

::To Carthage then I came<ref>V. St. Augustine's ''Confessions'': "to Carthage then I came, where a cauldron of unholy loves sang all about mine ears."</ref>

::Burning burning burning burning<ref>The complete text of the Buddha's Fire Sermon (which corresponds in importance to the Sermon on the Mount) from which these words are taken, will be found translated in the late Henry Clarke Warren's ''Buddhism in Translation'' (Harvard Oriental Series). Mr. Warren was one of the great pioneers of Buddhist studies in the Occident.</ref>
::O Lord Thou pluckest me out<ref>From St. Augustine's ''Confessions'' again. The collocation of these two representatives of eastern and western asceticism, as the culmination of this part of the poem, is not an accident.</ref>
::O Lord Thou pluckest

::burning

==Death by Water==

:Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
:Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
:And the profit and loss.
:::: A current under sea
:Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
:He passed the stages of his age and youth
:Entering the whirlpool.
:::: Gentile or Jew
:O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
:Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

==What the Thunder Said<ref>In the first part of Part V three themes are employed: the journey to Emmaus, the approach to the Chapel Perilous (see Miss Weston's book) and the present decay of eastern Europe.</ref>==

:After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
:After the frosty silence in the gardens
:After the agony in stony places
:The shouting and the crying
:Prison and palace and reverberation
:Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
:He who was living is now dead
:We who were living are now dying
:With a little patience

:Here is no water but only rock
:Rock and no water and the sandy road
:The road winding above among the mountains
:Which are mountains of rock without water
:If there were water we should stop and drink
:Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
:Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
:If there were only water amongst the rock
:Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
:Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
:There is not even silence in the mountains
:But dry sterile thunder without rain
:There is not even solitude in the mountains
:But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
:From doors of mudcracked houses
:::: If there were water
:: And no rock
:: If there were rock
:: And also water
:: And water
:: A spring
:: A pool among the rock
:: If there were the sound of water only
:: Not the cicada
:: And dry grass singing
:: But sound of water over a rock
:: Where the hermit-thrush<ref>This is ''Turdus aonalaschkae pallasii'', the hermit-thrush which I have heard in Quebec County. Chapman says (''Handbook of Birds of Eastern North America'') "it is most at home in secluded woodland and thickety retreats. . . . Its notes are not remarkable for variety or volume, but in purity and sweetness of tone and exquisite modulation they are unequalled." Its "water-dripping song" is justly celebrated.</ref> sings in the pine trees
:: Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
:: But there is no water

: Who is the third who walks always beside you?<ref>The following lines were stimulated by the account of one of the Antarctic expeditions (I forget which, but I think one of Shackleton's): it was related that the party of explorers, at the extremity of their strength, had the constant delusion that there was ''one more member'' than could actually be counted.</ref>
:When I count, there are only you and I together
:But when I look ahead up the white road
:There is always another one walking beside you
:Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
:I do not know whether a man or a woman
:—But who is that on the other side of you?

: What is that sound high in the air<ref>Cf. Hermann Hesse, ''Blick ins Chaos'':

:"Schon ist halb Europa, schon ist zumindest der halbe Osten Europas auf dem Wege zum Chaos, fährt betrunken im heiligem Wahn am Abgrund entlang und singt dazu, singt betrunken und hymnisch wie Dmitri Karamasoff sang. Ueber diese Lieder lacht der Bürger beleidigt, der Heilige und Seher hört sie mit Tränen."</ref>
:Murmur of maternal lamentation
:Who are those hooded hordes swarming
:Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
:Ringed by the flat horizon only
:What is the city over the mountains
:Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
:Falling towers
:Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
:Vienna London
:Unreal

: A woman drew her long black hair out tight
:And fiddled whisper music on those strings
:And bats with baby faces in the violet light
:Whistled, and beat their wings
:And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
:And upside down in air were towers
:Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
:And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

: In this decayed hole among the mountains
:In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
:Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
:There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.
:It has no windows, and the door swings,
:Dry bones can harm no one.
:Only a cock stood on the rooftree
:Co co rico co co rico
:In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
:Bringing rain

: Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
:Waited for rain, while the black clouds
:Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
:The jungle crouched, humped in silence.
:Then spoke the thunder
:DA
:''Datta'':<ref>"Datta, dayadhvam, damyata" (Give, sympathize, control). The fable of the meaning of the Thunder is found in the ''Brihadaranyaka-Upanishad'', 5, 1. A translation is found in Deussen's ''Sechzig Upanishads des Veda'', p. 489.</ref> what have we given?
:My friend, blood shaking my heart
:The awful daring of a moment's surrender
:Which an age of prudence can never retract
:By this, and this only, we have existed
:Which is not to be found in our obituaries
:Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider<ref>Cf. Webster, ''The White Devil'', v. vi:

: ". . . they'll remarry
: Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet, ere the spider
: Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs."</ref>
:Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
:In our empty rooms
:DA
:''Dayadhvam'': I have heard the key
:Turn in the door once and turn once only
:We think of the key, each in his prison<ref>Cf. ''Inferno'', xxxiii. 46:

: "ed io sentii chiavar l'uscio di sotto
: all'orribile torre."

:Also F. H. Bradley, ''Appearance and Reality'', p. 346:

:"My external sensations are no less private to myself than are my thoughts or my feelings. In either case my experience falls within my own circle, a circle closed on the outside; and, with all its elements alike, every sphere is opaque to the others which surround it. . . . In brief, regarded as an existence which appears in a soul, the whole world for each is peculiar and private to that soul."</ref>
:Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
:Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
:Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
:DA
:''Damyata'': The boat responded
:Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
:The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
:Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
:To controlling hands

:::: I sat upon the shore
:Fishing,<ref>V. Weston, ''From Ritual to Romance''; chapter on the Fisher King.</ref> with the arid plain behind me
:Shall I at least set my lands in order?
:London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
:''Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina''<ref>V. ''Purgatorio'', xxvi. 148.

: "'Ara vos prec per aquella valor
: 'que vos guida al som de l'escalina,
: 'sovegna vos a temps de ma dolor.'
: Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina."
</ref>
:''Quando fiam uti chelidon''<ref>V. ''Pervigilium Veneris''. Cf. Philomela in Parts II and III.</ref>—O swallow swallow
:''Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie''<ref>V. Gerard de Nerval, Sonnet ''El Desdichado''.</ref>
:These fragments I have shored against my ruins
:Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.<ref>V. Kyd's ''Spanish Tragedy''.</ref>
:Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
::: Shantih shantih shantih<ref>Shantih. Repeated as here, a formal ending to an Upanishad. 'The Peace which passeth understanding' is a feeble translation of the content of this word.</ref>

:

-----
<div style="font-size: 8pt;"><references />

The Waste Land

2010-02-22T22:23:17Z

LouisWu471:

The Waste Land

2010-02-22T22:22:34Z

LouisWu471:

__NOTOC__

:"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis
:vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent:
:''Σίβιλλα τί θέλεις''; respondebat illa: ''άποθανεϊν θέλω''."

:For Ezra Pound
:''il miglior fabbro.''

==The Burial of the Dead==

:April is the cruellest month, breeding
:Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
:Memory and desire, stirring
:Dull roots with spring rain.
:Winter kept us warm, covering
:Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
:A little life with dried tubers.
:Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
:With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
:And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
:And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
:Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
:And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
:My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
:And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
:Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
:In the mountains, there you feel free.
:I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

:What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
:Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man<ref>Cf. Ezekiel 2:1</ref>,
:You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
:A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
:And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,<ref>Cf. Ecclesiastes 12:5.</ref>
:And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
:There is shadow under this red rock,
:(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
:And I will show you something different from either
:Your shadow at morning striding behind you
:Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
:I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
:::''Frisch weht der Wind''
:::''Der Heimat zu''
:::''Mein Irisch Kind,''
:::''Wo weilest du?''<ref>V. ''Tristan und Isolde'', i, verses 5-8.</ref>
:"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
:They called me the hyacinth girl."
:—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
:Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
:Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
:Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
:Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
:''Oed' und leer das Meer.''<ref>Id. iii, verse 24.</ref>

: Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
:Had a bad cold, nevertheless
:Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
:With a wicked pack of cards<ref>I am not familiar with the exact constitution of the Tarot pack of cards, from which I have obviously departed to suit my own convenience. The Hanged Man, a member of the traditional pack, fits my purpose in two ways: because he is associated in my mind with the Hanged God of Frazer, and because I associate him with the hooded figure in the passage of the disciples to Emmaus in Part V. The Phoenician Sailor and the Merchant appear later; also the "crowds of people," and Death by Water is executed in Part IV. The Man with Three Staves (an authentic member of the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily, with the Fisher King himself.</ref>. Here, said she,
:Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
:(Those are pearls that were his eyes.<ref>Cf. William Shakespeare's The Tempest, Act 1, scene 2.</ref> Look!)
:Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
:The lady of situations.
:Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
:And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
:Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
:Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
:The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
:I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
:Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
:Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
:One must be so careful these days.

: Unreal City<ref>Cf. Baudelaire:
: "Fourmillante cite;, cite; pleine de rêves,
: Ou le spectre en plein jour raccroche le passant."</ref>,
:Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
:A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
:I had not thought death had undone so many<ref>Cf. ''Inferno'', iii. 55-7.
: "si lunga tratta
: di gente, ch'io non avrei mai creduto
: che morte tanta n'avesse disfatta."</ref>.
:Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled<ref>Cf. ''Inferno'', iv. 25-7:
: "Quivi, secondo che per ascoltare,
: "non avea pianto, ma' che di sospiri,
: "che l'aura eterna facevan tremare."</ref>,
:And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
:Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
:To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
:With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.<ref>A phenomenon which I have often noticed.</ref>
:There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying "Stetson!
:You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
:That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
:Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
:Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
:Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,<ref>Cf. the Dirge in Webster's ''White Devil''.</ref>
:Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
:You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!"<ref>V. Baudelaire, Preface to ''Fleurs du Mal''.</ref>

==A Game of Chess==

: The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,<ref>Cf. ''Antony and Cleopatra'', II. ii., l. 190.</ref>
:Glowed on the marble, where the glass
:Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
:From which a golden Cupidon peeped out
:(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
:Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
:Reflecting light upon the table as
:The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
:From satin cases poured in rich profusion;
:In vials of ivory and coloured glass
:Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
:Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused
:And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
:That freshened from the window, these ascended
:In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
:Flung their smoke into the laquearia<ref>V. ''Aeneid'', I. 726:
: dependent lychni laquearibus aureis incensi, et noctem flammis funalia vincunt.</ref>,
:Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
:Huge sea-wood fed with copper
:Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,
:In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.
:Above the antique mantel was displayed
:As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene<ref>V. Milton, ''Paradise Lost'', iv. 140.</ref>
:The change of Philomel<ref>V. Ovid, ''Metamorphoses'', vi, Philomela.</ref>, by the barbarous king
:So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale<ref>Cf. Part III, l. 204.</ref>
:Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
:And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
:"Jug Jug" to dirty ears.
:And other withered stumps of time
:Were told upon the walls; staring forms
:Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
:Footsteps shuffled on the stair.
:Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair
:Spread out in fiery points
:Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.

: "My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
:Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
::What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
:I never know what you are thinking. Think."

: I think we are in rats' alley<ref>Cf. Part III, l. 195.</ref>
:Where the dead men lost their bones.

: "What is that noise?"
:::The wind under the door.<ref>Cf. Webster: "Is the wind in that door still?"</ref>
:"What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"
::: Nothing again nothing.
::::"Do
:You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
:Nothing?"

:: I remember
:Those are pearls that were his eyes.
:"Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"<ref>Cf. Part I, l. 37, 48.</ref>
:::: But
:O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—
:It's so elegant
:So intelligent
:"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"
:I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
:"With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?
:"What shall we ever do?"
: The hot water at ten.
:And if it rains, a closed car at four.
:And we shall play a game of chess,
:Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.<ref>Cf. the game of chess in Middleton's ''Women beware Women''.</ref>

:When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said—
:I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself,
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
:He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
:To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
:You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
:He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.
:And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,
:He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,
:And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.
:Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said.
:Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.
:Others can pick and choose if you can't.
:But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling.
:You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.
:(And her only thirty-one.)
:I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,
:It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.
:(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.)
:The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same.
:You are a proper fool, I said.
:Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,
:What you get married for if you don't want children?
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
:And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.
:Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.
:Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

==The Fire Sermon==

: The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf
:Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
:Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
:Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.<ref>V. Spenser, ''Prothalamion''.</ref>
:The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
:Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
:Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.
:And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;
:Departed, have left no addresses.
:By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . .
:Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,
:Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
:But at my back in a cold blast I hear
:The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

:A rat crept softly through the vegetation
:Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
:While I was fishing in the dull canal
:On a winter evening round behind the gashouse
:Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
:And on the king my father's death before him.<ref>Cf. ''The Tempest'', I. ii.</ref>
:White bodies naked on the low damp ground
:And bones cast in a little low dry garret,
:Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.
:But at my back from time to time I hear<ref>Cf. Marvell, ''To His Coy Mistress''.</ref>
:The sound of horns and motors,<ref>Cf. Day, ''Parliament of Bees'':

: "When of the sudden, listening, you shall hear,
: "A noise of horns and hunting, which shall bring
: "Actaeon to Diana in the spring,
: "Where all shall see her naked skin . . ."</ref> which shall bring
:Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.
:O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter<ref>I do not know the origin of the ballad from which these lines are taken: it was reported to me from Sydney, Australia.</ref>
:And on her daughter
:They wash their feet in soda water
:''Et, O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!''<ref>V. Verlaine, ''Parsifal''.</ref>

:Twit twit twit
:Jug jug jug jug jug jug
:So rudely forc'd.
:Tereu

: Unreal City
:Under the brown fog of a winter noon
:Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
:Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants<ref>The currants were quoted at a price "cost, insurance and freight to London"; and the Bill of Lading, etc., were to be handed to the buyer upon payment of the sight draft.</ref>
:C.i.f. London: documents at sight,
:Asked me in demotic French
:To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
:Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

: At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
:Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
:Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
:I Tiresias,<ref>Tiresias, although a mere spectator and not indeed a "character,"
is yet the most important personage in the poem, uniting all the rest. Just as the one-eyed merchant, seller of currants, melts into the Phoenician Sailor, and the latter is not wholly distinct from Ferdinand Prince of Naples, so all the women are one woman, and the two sexes meet in Tiresias. What Tiresias sees, in fact, is the substance of the poem. The whole passage from Ovid is of great anthropological interest:

: '. . . Cum Iunone iocos et maior vestra profecto est
: Quam, quae contingit maribus,' dixisse, 'voluptas.'
: Illa negat; placuit quae sit sententia docti
: Quaerere Tiresiae: venus huic erat utraque nota.
: Nam duo magnorum viridi coeuntia silva
: Corpora serpentum baculi violaverat ictu
: Deque viro factus, mirabile, femina septem
: Egerat autumnos; octavo rursus eosdem
: Vidit et 'est vestrae si tanta potentia plagae,'
: Dixit 'ut auctoris sortem in contraria mutet,
: Nunc quoque vos feriam!' percussis anguibus isdem
: Forma prior rediit genetivaque venit imago.
: Arbiter hic igitur sumptus de lite iocosa
: Dicta Iovis firmat; gravius Saturnia iusto
: Nec pro materia fertur doluisse suique
: Iudicis aeterna damnavit lumina nocte,
: At pater omnipotens (neque enim licet inrita cuiquam
: Facta dei fecisse deo) pro lumine adempto
: Scire futura dedit poenamque levavit honore.</ref> though blind, throbbing between two lives,
:Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
:At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives
:Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,<ref>This may not appear as exact as Sappho's lines, but I had in mind the "longshore" or "dory" fisherman, who returns at nightfall.</ref>
:The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
:Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
:Out of the window perilously spread
:Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,
:On the divan are piled (at night her bed)
:Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.
:I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs
:Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest—
:I too awaited the expected guest.
:He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
:A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
:One of the low on whom assurance sits
:As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
:The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
:The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
:Endeavours to engage her in caresses
:Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
:Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
:Exploring hands encounter no defence;
:His vanity requires no response,
:And makes a welcome of indifference.
:(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
:Enacted on this same divan or bed;
:I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
:And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
:Bestows one final patronising kiss,
:And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .

: She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
:Hardly aware of her departed lover;
:Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
:"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over."
:When lovely woman stoops to folly and
:Paces about her room again, alone,
:She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
:And puts a record on the gramophone.<ref>V. Goldsmith, the song in ''The Vicar of Wakefield''.</ref>

: "This music crept by me upon the waters"<ref>V. ''The Tempest'', as above.</ref>
:And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
:O City city, I can sometimes hear
:Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
:The pleasant whining of a mandoline
:And a clatter and a chatter from within
:Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
:Of Magnus Martyr hold
:Inexplicable splendour<ref>The interior of St. Magnus Martyr is to my mind one of the finest among Wren's interiors. See ''The Proposed Demolition of Nineteen City Churches'' (P. S. King & Son, Ltd.).</ref> of Ionian white and gold.

:: The river sweats<ref>The Song of the (three) Thames-daughters begins here. From line 292 to 306 inclusive they speak in turn. V. ''Götterdämmerung'', III. i: the Rhine-daughters.</ref>
:: Oil and tar
:: The barges drift
:: With the turning tide
:: Red sails
:: Wide
:: To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
:: The barges wash
:: Drifting logs
:: Down Greenwich reach
:: Past the Isle of Dogs.
::: Weialala leia
::: Wallala leialala

:: Elizabeth and Leicester<ref>V. Froude, ''Elizabeth'', Vol. I, ch. iv, letter of De Quadra to Philip of Spain:

:"In the afternoon we were in a barge, watching the games on the river. (The queen) was alone with Lord Robert and myself on the poop, when they began to talk nonsense, and went so far that Lord Robert at last said, as I was on the spot there was no reason why they should not be married if the queen pleased."</ref>
:: Beating oars
:: The stern was formed
:: A gilded shell
:: Red and gold
:: The brisk swell
:: Rippled both shores
:: Southwest wind
:: Carried down stream
:: The peal of bells
:: White towers
::: Weialala leia
::: Wallala leialala

::"Trams and dusty trees.
::Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew
::Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
::Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."<ref>Cf. ''Purgatorio'', v. 133:

: "Ricorditi di me, che son la Pia;
: Siena mi fe', disfecemi Maremma."</ref>

::"My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
::Under my feet. After the event
::He wept. He promised 'a new start'.
::I made no comment. What should I resent?"
::"On Margate Sands.
::I can connect
::Nothing with nothing.
::The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
::My people humble people who expect
::Nothing."
::: la la

::To Carthage then I came<ref>V. St. Augustine's ''Confessions'': "to Carthage then I came, where a cauldron of unholy loves sang all about mine ears."</ref>

::Burning burning burning burning<ref>The complete text of the Buddha's Fire Sermon (which corresponds in importance to the Sermon on the Mount) from which these words are taken, will be found translated in the late Henry Clarke Warren's ''Buddhism in Translation'' (Harvard Oriental Series). Mr. Warren was one of the great pioneers of Buddhist studies in the Occident.</ref>
::O Lord Thou pluckest me out<ref>From St. Augustine's ''Confessions'' again. The collocation of these two representatives of eastern and western asceticism, as the culmination of this part of the poem, is not an accident.</ref>
::O Lord Thou pluckest

::burning

==Death by Water==

:Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
:Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
:And the profit and loss.
:::: A current under sea
:Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
:He passed the stages of his age and youth
:Entering the whirlpool.
:::: Gentile or Jew
:O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
:Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

==What the Thunder Said<ref>In the first part of Part V three themes are employed: the journey to Emmaus, the approach to the Chapel Perilous (see Miss Weston's book) and the present decay of eastern Europe.</ref>==

:After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
:After the frosty silence in the gardens
:After the agony in stony places
:The shouting and the crying
:Prison and palace and reverberation
:Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
:He who was living is now dead
:We who were living are now dying
:With a little patience

:Here is no water but only rock
:Rock and no water and the sandy road
:The road winding above among the mountains
:Which are mountains of rock without water
:If there were water we should stop and drink
:Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
:Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
:If there were only water amongst the rock
:Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
:Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
:There is not even silence in the mountains
:But dry sterile thunder without rain
:There is not even solitude in the mountains
:But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
:From doors of mudcracked houses
:::: If there were water
:: And no rock
:: If there were rock
:: And also water
:: And water
:: A spring
:: A pool among the rock
:: If there were the sound of water only
:: Not the cicada
:: And dry grass singing
:: But sound of water over a rock
:: Where the hermit-thrush<ref>This is ''Turdus aonalaschkae pallasii'', the hermit-thrush which I have heard in Quebec County. Chapman says (''Handbook of Birds of Eastern North America'') "it is most at home in secluded woodland and thickety retreats. . . . Its notes are not remarkable for variety or volume, but in purity and sweetness of tone and exquisite modulation they are unequalled." Its "water-dripping song" is justly celebrated.</ref> sings in the pine trees
:: Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
:: But there is no water

: Who is the third who walks always beside you?<ref>The following lines were stimulated by the account of one of the Antarctic expeditions (I forget which, but I think one of Shackleton's): it was related that the party of explorers, at the extremity of their strength, had the constant delusion that there was ''one more member'' than could actually be counted.</ref>
:When I count, there are only you and I together
:But when I look ahead up the white road
:There is always another one walking beside you
:Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
:I do not know whether a man or a woman
:—But who is that on the other side of you?

: What is that sound high in the air<ref>Cf. Hermann Hesse, ''Blick ins Chaos'':

:"Schon ist halb Europa, schon ist zumindest der halbe Osten Europas auf dem Wege zum Chaos, fährt betrunken im heiligem Wahn am Abgrund entlang und singt dazu, singt betrunken und hymnisch wie Dmitri Karamasoff sang. Ueber diese Lieder lacht der Bürger beleidigt, der Heilige und Seher hört sie mit Tränen."</ref>
:Murmur of maternal lamentation
:Who are those hooded hordes swarming
:Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
:Ringed by the flat horizon only
:What is the city over the mountains
:Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
:Falling towers
:Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
:Vienna London
:Unreal

: A woman drew her long black hair out tight
:And fiddled whisper music on those strings
:And bats with baby faces in the violet light
:Whistled, and beat their wings
:And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
:And upside down in air were towers
:Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
:And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

: In this decayed hole among the mountains
:In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
:Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
:There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.
:It has no windows, and the door swings,
:Dry bones can harm no one.
:Only a cock stood on the rooftree
:Co co rico co co rico
:In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
:Bringing rain

: Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
:Waited for rain, while the black clouds
:Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
:The jungle crouched, humped in silence.
:Then spoke the thunder
:DA
:''Datta'':<ref>"Datta, dayadhvam, damyata" (Give, sympathize, control). The fable of the meaning of the Thunder is found in the ''Brihadaranyaka-Upanishad'', 5, 1. A translation is found in Deussen's ''Sechzig Upanishads des Veda'', p. 489.</ref> what have we given?
:My friend, blood shaking my heart
:The awful daring of a moment's surrender
:Which an age of prudence can never retract
:By this, and this only, we have existed
:Which is not to be found in our obituaries
:Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider<ref>Cf. Webster, ''The White Devil'', v. vi:

: ". . . they'll remarry
: Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet, ere the spider
: Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs."</ref>
:Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
:In our empty rooms
:DA
:''Dayadhvam'': I have heard the key
:Turn in the door once and turn once only
:We think of the key, each in his prison<ref>Cf. ''Inferno'', xxxiii. 46:

: "ed io sentii chiavar l'uscio di sotto
: all'orribile torre."

:Also F. H. Bradley, ''Appearance and Reality'', p. 346:

:"My external sensations are no less private to myself than are my thoughts or my feelings. In either case my experience falls within my own circle, a circle closed on the outside; and, with all its elements alike, every sphere is opaque to the others which surround it. . . . In brief, regarded as an existence which appears in a soul, the whole world for each is peculiar and private to that soul."</ref>
:Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
:Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
:Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
:DA
:''Damyata'': The boat responded
:Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
:The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
:Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
:To controlling hands

:::: I sat upon the shore
:Fishing,<ref>V. Weston, ''From Ritual to Romance''; chapter on the Fisher King.</ref> with the arid plain behind me
:Shall I at least set my lands in order?
:London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
:''Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina''<ref>V. ''Purgatorio'', xxvi. 148.

: "'Ara vos prec per aquella valor
: 'que vos guida al som de l'escalina,
: 'sovegna vos a temps de ma dolor.'
: Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina."
</ref>
:''Quando fiam uti chelidon''<ref>V. ''Pervigilium Veneris''. Cf. Philomela in Parts II and III.</ref>—O swallow swallow
:''Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie''<ref>V. Gerard de Nerval, Sonnet ''El Desdichado''.</ref>
:These fragments I have shored against my ruins
:Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.<ref>V. Kyd's ''Spanish Tragedy''.</ref>
:Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
::: Shantih shantih shantih<ref>Shantih. Repeated as here, a formal ending to an Upanishad. 'The Peace which passeth understanding' is a feeble translation of the content of this word.</ref>

:

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The Waste Land

2010-02-22T22:15:59Z

LouisWu471: Created page with '__NOTOC__ :"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis :vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: :''Σίβιλλα τί θέλεις''; respondebat illa: ''άπ…'

__NOTOC__

:"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis
:vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent:
:''Σίβιλλα τί θέλεις''; respondebat illa: ''άποθανεϊν θέλω''."

:For Ezra Pound
:''il miglior fabbro.''

==The Burial of the Dead==

:April is the cruellest month, breeding
:Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
:Memory and desire, stirring
:Dull roots with spring rain.
:Winter kept us warm, covering
:Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
:A little life with dried tubers.
:Summer surprised us, coming over the [[w:Lake Starnberg|Starnbergersee]]
:With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
:And went on in sunlight, into the [[w:Hofgarten (München)|Hofgarten]],
:And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
:Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
:And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
:My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
:And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
:Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
:In the mountains, there you feel free.
:I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

:What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
:Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man<ref>Cf. [[Bible (King James)/Ezekiel#2:1|Ezekiel 2:1]].</ref>,
:You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
:A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
:And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,<ref>Cf. [[Bible (King James)/Ecclesiastes#12:5|Ecclesiastes 12:5]].</ref>
:And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
:There is shadow under this red rock,
:(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
:And I will show you something different from either
:Your shadow at morning striding behind you
:Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
:I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
:::''Frisch weht der Wind''
:::''Der Heimat zu''
:::''Mein Irisch Kind,''
:::''Wo weilest du?''<ref>V. ''Tristan und Isolde'', i, verses 5-8.</ref>
:"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
:They called me the hyacinth girl."
:—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
:Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
:Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
:Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
:Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
:''Oed' und leer das Meer.''<ref>Id. iii, verse 24.</ref>

: Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
:Had a bad cold, nevertheless
:Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
:With a wicked pack of cards<ref>I am not familiar with the exact constitution of the Tarot pack of cards, from which I have obviously departed to suit my own convenience. The Hanged Man, a member of the traditional pack, fits my purpose in two ways: because he is associated in my mind with the Hanged God of Frazer, and because I associate him with the hooded figure in the passage of the disciples to Emmaus in Part V. The Phoenician Sailor and the Merchant appear later; also the "crowds of people," and Death by Water is executed in Part IV. The Man with Three Staves (an authentic member of the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily, with the Fisher King himself.</ref>. Here, said she,
:Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
:(Those are pearls that were his eyes.<ref>Cf. William Shakespeare's [[The Tempest]], Act 1, scene 2.</ref> Look!)
:Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
:The lady of situations.
:Here is the man with three staves, and here the [[w:Wheel of Fortune (Tarot card)|Wheel]],
:And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
:Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
:Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
:The [[w:The Hanged Man (tarot card)|Hanged Man]]. Fear death by water.
:I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
:Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
:Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
:One must be so careful these days.

: Unreal City<ref>Cf. Baudelaire:
: "Fourmillante cite;, cite; pleine de rêves,
: Ou le spectre en plein jour raccroche le passant."</ref>,
:Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
:A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
:I had not thought death had undone so many<ref>Cf. ''Inferno'', iii. 55-7.
: "si lunga tratta
: di gente, ch'io non avrei mai creduto
: che morte tanta n'avesse disfatta."</ref>.
:Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled<ref>Cf. ''Inferno'', iv. 25-7:
: "Quivi, secondo che per ascoltare,
: "non avea pianto, ma' che di sospiri,
: "che l'aura eterna facevan tremare."</ref>,
:And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
:Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
:To where [[w:St Mary Woolnoth|Saint Mary Woolnoth]] kept the hours
:With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.<ref>A phenomenon which I have often noticed.</ref>
:There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying "Stetson!
:You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
:That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
:Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
:Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
:Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,<ref>Cf. the Dirge in Webster's ''White Devil''.</ref>
:Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
:You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!"<ref>V. Baudelaire, Preface to ''Fleurs du Mal''.</ref>

==A Game of Chess==

: The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,<ref>Cf. ''Antony and Cleopatra'', II. ii., l. 190.</ref>
:Glowed on the marble, where the glass
:Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
:From which a golden Cupidon peeped out
:(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
:Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
:Reflecting light upon the table as
:The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
:From satin cases poured in rich profusion;
:In vials of ivory and coloured glass
:Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
:Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused
:And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
:That freshened from the window, these ascended
:In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
:Flung their smoke into the laquearia<ref>V. ''Aeneid'', I. 726:
: dependent lychni laquearibus aureis incensi, et noctem flammis funalia vincunt.</ref>,
:Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
:Huge sea-wood fed with copper
:Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,
:In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.
:Above the antique mantel was displayed
:As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene<ref>V. Milton, ''Paradise Lost'', iv. 140.</ref>
:The change of Philomel<ref>V. Ovid, ''Metamorphoses'', vi, Philomela.</ref>, by the barbarous king
:So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale<ref>Cf. Part III, [[#204|l. 204]].</ref>
:Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
:And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
:"Jug Jug" to dirty ears.
:And other withered stumps of time
:Were told upon the walls; staring forms
:Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
:Footsteps shuffled on the stair.
:Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair
:Spread out in fiery points
:Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.

: "My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
:Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
::What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
:I never know what you are thinking. Think."

: I think we are in rats' alley<ref>Cf. Part III, [[#195|l. 195]].</ref>
:Where the dead men lost their bones.

: "What is that noise?"
:::The wind under the door.<ref>Cf. Webster: "Is the wind in that door still?"</ref>
:"What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"
::: Nothing again nothing.
::::"Do
:You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
:Nothing?"

:: I remember
:Those are pearls that were his eyes.
:"Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"<ref>Cf. Part I, l. [[#37|37]], [[#48|48]].</ref>
:::: But
:O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—
:It's so elegant
:So intelligent
:"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"
:I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
:"With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?
:"What shall we ever do?"
: The hot water at ten.
:And if it rains, a closed car at four.
:And we shall play a game of chess,
:Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.<ref>Cf. the game of chess in Middleton's ''Women beware Women''.</ref>

:When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said—
:I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself,
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
:He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
:To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
:You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
:He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.
:And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,
:He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,
:And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.
:Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said.
:Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.
:Others can pick and choose if you can't.
:But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling.
:You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.
:(And her only thirty-one.)
:I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,
:It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.
:(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.)
:The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same.
:You are a proper fool, I said.
:Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,
:What you get married for if you don't want children?
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
:And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
:Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.
:Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.
:Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

==The Fire Sermon==

: The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf
:Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
:Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
:Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.<ref>V. Spenser, ''Prothalamion''.</ref>
:The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
:Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
:Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.
:And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;
:Departed, have left no addresses.
:By the waters of [[w:Lake Geneva|Leman]] I sat down and wept . . .
:Sweet [[w:River Thames|Thames]], run softly till I end my song,
:Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
:But at my back in a cold blast I hear
:The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

:A rat crept softly through the vegetation
:Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
:While I was fishing in the dull canal
:On a winter evening round behind the gashouse
:Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
:And on the king my father's death before him.<ref>Cf. ''The Tempest'', I. ii.</ref>
:White bodies naked on the low damp ground
:And bones cast in a little low dry garret,
:Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.
:But at my back from time to time I hear<ref>Cf. Marvell, ''To His Coy Mistress''.</ref>
:The sound of horns and motors,<ref>Cf. Day, ''Parliament of Bees'':

: "When of the sudden, listening, you shall hear,
: "A noise of horns and hunting, which shall bring
: "Actaeon to Diana in the spring,
: "Where all shall see her naked skin . . ."</ref> which shall bring
:Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.
:O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter<ref>I do not know the origin of the ballad from which these lines are taken: it was reported to me from Sydney, Australia.</ref>
:And on her daughter
:They wash their feet in soda water
:''Et, O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!''<ref>V. Verlaine, ''Parsifal''.</ref>

:Twit twit twit
:Jug jug jug jug jug jug
:So rudely forc'd.
:Tereu

: Unreal City
:Under the brown fog of a winter noon
:Mr. Eugenides, the [[w:Smyrna|Smyrna]] merchant
:Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants<ref>The currants were quoted at a price "cost, insurance and freight to London"; and the Bill of Lading, etc., were to be handed to the buyer upon payment of the sight draft.</ref>
:C.i.f. London: documents at sight,
:Asked me in demotic French
:To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
:Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

: At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
:Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
:Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
:I [[w:Tiresias|Tiresias]],<ref>Tiresias, although a mere spectator and not indeed a "character,"
is yet the most important personage in the poem, uniting all the rest. Just as the one-eyed merchant, seller of currants, melts into the Phoenician Sailor, and the latter is not wholly distinct from Ferdinand Prince of Naples, so all the women are one woman, and the two sexes meet in Tiresias. What Tiresias sees, in fact, is the substance of the poem. The whole passage from Ovid is of great anthropological interest:

: '. . . Cum Iunone iocos et maior vestra profecto est
: Quam, quae contingit maribus,' dixisse, 'voluptas.'
: Illa negat; placuit quae sit sententia docti
: Quaerere Tiresiae: venus huic erat utraque nota.
: Nam duo magnorum viridi coeuntia silva
: Corpora serpentum baculi violaverat ictu
: Deque viro factus, mirabile, femina septem
: Egerat autumnos; octavo rursus eosdem
: Vidit et 'est vestrae si tanta potentia plagae,'
: Dixit 'ut auctoris sortem in contraria mutet,
: Nunc quoque vos feriam!' percussis anguibus isdem
: Forma prior rediit genetivaque venit imago.
: Arbiter hic igitur sumptus de lite iocosa
: Dicta Iovis firmat; gravius Saturnia iusto
: Nec pro materia fertur doluisse suique
: Iudicis aeterna damnavit lumina nocte,
: At pater omnipotens (neque enim licet inrita cuiquam
: Facta dei fecisse deo) pro lumine adempto
: Scire futura dedit poenamque levavit honore.</ref> though blind, throbbing between two lives,
:Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
:At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives
:Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,<ref>This may not appear as exact as Sappho's lines, but I had in mind the "longshore" or "dory" fisherman, who returns at nightfall.</ref>
:The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
:Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
:Out of the window perilously spread
:Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,
:On the divan are piled (at night her bed)
:Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.
:I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled [[wikt:dug#Noun|dugs]]
:Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest—
:I too awaited the expected guest.
:He, the young man [[wikt:carbuncular|carbuncular]], arrives,
:A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
:One of the low on whom assurance sits
:As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
:The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
:The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
:Endeavours to engage her in caresses
:Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
:Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
:Exploring hands encounter no defence;
:His vanity requires no response,
:And makes a welcome of indifference.
:(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
:Enacted on this same divan or bed;
:I who have sat by [[w:Thebes, Greece|Thebes]] below the wall
:And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
:Bestows one final patronising kiss,
:And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .

: She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
:Hardly aware of her departed lover;
:Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
:"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over."
:When lovely woman stoops to folly and
:Paces about her room again, alone,
:She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
:And puts a record on the gramophone.<ref>V. Goldsmith, the song in ''The Vicar of Wakefield''.</ref>

: "This music crept by me upon the waters"<ref>V. ''The Tempest'', as above.</ref>
:And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
:O City city, I can sometimes hear
:Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
:The pleasant whining of a mandoline
:And a clatter and a chatter from within
:Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
:Of [[w:St Magnus-the-Martyr|Magnus Martyr]] hold
:Inexplicable splendour<ref>The interior of St. Magnus Martyr is to my mind one of the finest among Wren's interiors. See ''The Proposed Demolition of Nineteen City Churches'' (P. S. King & Son, Ltd.).</ref> of Ionian white and gold.

:: The river sweats<ref>The Song of the (three) Thames-daughters begins here. From line 292 to 306 inclusive they speak in turn. V. ''Götterdämmerung'', III. i: the Rhine-daughters.</ref>
:: Oil and tar
:: The barges drift
:: With the turning tide
:: Red sails
:: Wide
:: To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
:: The barges wash
:: Drifting logs
:: Down Greenwich reach
:: Past the [[w:Isle of Dogs|Isle of Dogs]].
::: Weialala leia
::: Wallala leialala

:: [[w:Elizabeth I of England|Elizabeth]] and [[w:Robert Sidney, 1st Earl of Leicester|Leicester]]<ref>V. Froude, ''Elizabeth'', Vol. I, ch. iv, letter of De Quadra to Philip of Spain:

:"In the afternoon we were in a barge, watching the games on the river. (The queen) was alone with Lord Robert and myself on the poop, when they began to talk nonsense, and went so far that Lord Robert at last said, as I was on the spot there was no reason why they should not be married if the queen pleased."</ref>
:: Beating oars
:: The stern was formed
:: A gilded shell
:: Red and gold
:: The brisk swell
:: Rippled both shores
:: Southwest wind
:: Carried down stream
:: The peal of bells
:: White towers
::: Weialala leia
::: Wallala leialala

::"Trams and dusty trees.
::[[w:Highbury|Highbury]] bore me. [[w:Richmond, London|Richmond]] and [[w:Kew|Kew]]
::Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
::Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."<ref>Cf. ''Purgatorio'', v. 133:

: "Ricorditi di me, che son la Pia;
: Siena mi fe', disfecemi Maremma."</ref>

::"My feet are at [[w:Moorgate|Moorgate]], and my heart
::Under my feet. After the event
::He wept. He promised 'a new start'.
::I made no comment. What should I resent?"
::"On [[w:Margate|Margate]] Sands.
::I can connect
::Nothing with nothing.
::The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
::My people humble people who expect
::Nothing."
::: la la

::To [[w:Carthage|Carthage]] then I came<ref>V. St. Augustine's ''Confessions'': "to Carthage then I came, where a cauldron of unholy loves sang all about mine ears."</ref>

::Burning burning burning burning<ref>The complete text of the Buddha's Fire Sermon (which corresponds in importance to the Sermon on the Mount) from which these words are taken, will be found translated in the late Henry Clarke Warren's ''Buddhism in Translation'' (Harvard Oriental Series). Mr. Warren was one of the great pioneers of Buddhist studies in the Occident.</ref>
::O Lord Thou pluckest me out<ref>From St. Augustine's ''Confessions'' again. The collocation of these two representatives of eastern and western asceticism, as the culmination of this part of the poem, is not an accident.</ref>
::O Lord Thou pluckest

::burning

==Death by Water==

:Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
:Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
:And the profit and loss.
:::: A current under sea
:Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
:He passed the stages of his age and youth
:Entering the whirlpool.
:::: [[w:Gentile|Gentile]] or Jew
:O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
:Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

==What the Thunder Said<ref>In the first part of Part V three themes are employed: the journey to Emmaus, the approach to the Chapel Perilous (see Miss Weston's book) and the present decay of eastern Europe.</ref>==

:After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
:After the frosty silence in the gardens
:After the agony in stony places
:The shouting and the crying
:Prison and palace and reverberation
:Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
:He who was living is now dead
:We who were living are now dying
:With a little patience

:Here is no water but only rock
:Rock and no water and the sandy road
:The road winding above among the mountains
:Which are mountains of rock without water
:If there were water we should stop and drink
:Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
:Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
:If there were only water amongst the rock
:Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
:Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
:There is not even silence in the mountains
:But dry sterile thunder without rain
:There is not even solitude in the mountains
:But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
:From doors of mudcracked houses
:::: If there were water
:: And no rock
:: If there were rock
:: And also water
:: And water
:: A spring
:: A pool among the rock
:: If there were the sound of water only
:: Not the [[wikt:cicada|cicada]]
:: And dry grass singing
:: But sound of water over a rock
:: Where the hermit-thrush<ref>This is ''Turdus aonalaschkae pallasii'', the hermit-thrush which I have heard in Quebec County. Chapman says (''Handbook of Birds of Eastern North America'') "it is most at home in secluded woodland and thickety retreats. . . . Its notes are not remarkable for variety or volume, but in purity and sweetness of tone and exquisite modulation they are unequalled." Its "water-dripping song" is justly celebrated.</ref> sings in the pine trees
:: Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
:: But there is no water

: Who is the third who walks always beside you?<ref>The following lines were stimulated by the account of one of the Antarctic expeditions (I forget which, but I think one of Shackleton's): it was related that the party of explorers, at the extremity of their strength, had the constant delusion that there was ''one more member'' than could actually be counted.</ref>
:When I count, there are only you and I together
:But when I look ahead up the white road
:There is always another one walking beside you
:Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
:I do not know whether a man or a woman
:—But who is that on the other side of you?

: What is that sound high in the air<ref>Cf. Hermann Hesse, ''Blick ins Chaos'':

:"Schon ist halb Europa, schon ist zumindest der halbe Osten Europas auf dem Wege zum Chaos, fährt betrunken im heiligem Wahn am Abgrund entlang und singt dazu, singt betrunken und hymnisch wie Dmitri Karamasoff sang. Ueber diese Lieder lacht der Bürger beleidigt, der Heilige und Seher hört sie mit Tränen."</ref>
:Murmur of maternal lamentation
:Who are those hooded hordes swarming
:Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
:Ringed by the flat horizon only
:What is the city over the mountains
:Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
:Falling towers
:[[w:Jerusalem|Jerusalem]] [[w:Athens|Athens]] [[w:Alexandria|Alexandria]]
:[[w:Vienna|Vienna]] [[w:London|London]]
:Unreal

: A woman drew her long black hair out tight
:And fiddled whisper music on those strings
:And bats with baby faces in the violet light
:Whistled, and beat their wings
:And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
:And upside down in air were towers
:Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
:And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

: In this decayed hole among the mountains
:In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
:Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
:There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.
:It has no windows, and the door swings,
:Dry bones can harm no one.
:Only a cock stood on the rooftree
:Co co rico co co rico
:In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
:Bringing rain

: [[w:Ganga in Hinduism|Ganga]] was sunken, and the limp leaves
:Waited for rain, while the black clouds
:Gathered far distant, over [[w:Himavat|Himavant]].
:The jungle crouched, humped in silence.
:Then spoke the thunder
:DA
:''Datta'':<ref>"Datta, dayadhvam, damyata" (Give, sympathize, control). The fable of the meaning of the Thunder is found in the ''Brihadaranyaka-Upanishad'', 5, 1. A translation is found in Deussen's ''Sechzig Upanishads des Veda'', p. 489.</ref> what have we given?
:My friend, blood shaking my heart
:The awful daring of a moment's surrender
:Which an age of prudence can never retract
:By this, and this only, we have existed
:Which is not to be found in our obituaries
:Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider<ref>Cf. Webster, ''The White Devil'', v. vi:

: ". . . they'll remarry
: Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet, ere the spider
: Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs."</ref>
:Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
:In our empty rooms
:DA
:''Dayadhvam'': I have heard the key
:Turn in the door once and turn once only
:We think of the key, each in his prison<ref>Cf. ''Inferno'', xxxiii. 46:

: "ed io sentii chiavar l'uscio di sotto
: all'orribile torre."

:Also F. H. Bradley, ''Appearance and Reality'', p. 346:

:"My external sensations are no less private to myself than are my thoughts or my feelings. In either case my experience falls within my own circle, a circle closed on the outside; and, with all its elements alike, every sphere is opaque to the others which surround it. . . . In brief, regarded as an existence which appears in a soul, the whole world for each is peculiar and private to that soul."</ref>
:Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
:Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
:Revive for a moment a broken [[w:Coriolanus|Coriolanus]]
:DA
:''Damyata'': The boat responded
:Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
:The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
:Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
:To controlling hands

:::: I sat upon the shore
:Fishing,<ref>V. Weston, ''From Ritual to Romance''; chapter on the Fisher King.</ref> with the arid plain behind me
:Shall I at least set my lands in order?
:London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
:''Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina''<ref>V. ''Purgatorio'', xxvi. 148.

: "'Ara vos prec per aquella valor
: 'que vos guida al som de l'escalina,
: 'sovegna vos a temps de ma dolor.'
: Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina."
</ref>
:''Quando fiam uti chelidon''<ref>V. ''Pervigilium Veneris''. Cf. Philomela in Parts II and III.</ref>—O swallow swallow
:''Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie''<ref>V. Gerard de Nerval, Sonnet ''El Desdichado''.</ref>
:These fragments I have shored against my ruins
:Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.<ref>V. Kyd's ''Spanish Tragedy''.</ref>
:Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
::: Shantih shantih shantih<ref>Shantih. Repeated as here, a formal ending to an Upanishad. 'The Peace which passeth understanding' is a feeble translation of the content of this word.</ref>

:

-----
<div style="font-size: small;"><references />

Clem Hoot

2010-02-05T05:00:50Z

LouisWu471:

'''Clem Hoot''' is one of the names used to refer to the [[Owl King]] and the network operating under him.

[[Category: Orbital Space City Ketheres and its Subdistricts]]
[[Category: NZ]]
[[Category: Whispers in Darkness]]

Clem Hoot

2010-02-05T05:00:35Z

LouisWu471: Created page with ''''Clem Hoot''' is one of the names used to refer to the Owl King and the network operating under him. Category: Orbital Space City Ketheres and its Subdistricts [[Categ…'

Cockroaches are independent contractors.

2010-01-29T05:14:43Z

LouisWu471:

Cockroaches are independent contractors.

2010-01-29T05:14:22Z

LouisWu471: Created page with '"It's like CC-TV to remote satellites" explains Sneedly. "What are you talking about? Cockroaches are independent contractors." replies Agent Milkman. ".......What? No, they…'

"It's like CC-TV to remote satellites" explains Sneedly.
"What are you talking about? Cockroaches are independent contractors." replies [[Agent Milkman]].
".......What? No, they're not, you can just tap their magnetic relays if you want. No need to pay membership fees to their union."

"Best to be stay on good terms with them though." he replies

[[category:The Hand of Madness]]

Dept. 140

2010-01-16T02:10:58Z

LouisWu471:

[[File:Dept140.jpg|right|300px]]

Ward drobe

File:Dept140.jpg

2010-01-16T02:10:26Z

LouisWu471: {{PD}}

Insect heart

2010-01-08T20:11:43Z

LouisWu471:

<blockquote>"He cocked his .34-40 and cradled it. At the county fair someone had once said of Alton Drew that he could shoot at a handful of salt and pepper thrown in the air and hit only pepper. Once he split a bullet on the blade of a knife and pit tow candles out. He had no need to fear anything that could be shot at. That's what he believed.""The thing in the woods looked curiously down at what it had done to Kimbo, and moanded the way Kimbo had before he died. It stood a minute storing away facts in its foul, unemotional mind. Blood was warm. The sunlight was warm. Things that moved and bore fur had a muscle to force out the thick liquid through their tiny bodies. The liquid coagulated after a time. The liquid on tooted freen things was thinner and the loss of a limb did not mean loss of life. It was very interesting, but the thing, the mold with a mind, was not pleased. Neither was is displeased. Its accidental urge was a thirst for knowledge, and it was only-interested."Random selection from '''IT''' by Theodore Sturgeon</blockquote>

He was sure it was Alton Drew that he sensed coming.

Placing the book down and moving into the hallway to survey the surroundings, his antenna waving in the air, picking up signals of a deadly intruder. If not Alton Drew someone as dangerous, if not as gullible. There is not time to continue to read on. How did this Alton Drew overcome the arrogance and certainty, thereby becoming more dangerous and deadly than he would have imagined?

He had sensed danger in these humans before. After all, only the most elite of the Nazi's had access to the weapons exchange programs that he was head of. Aldeberan Intel had selected the exact time and place to begin its insidious deception that would make this water planet theirs.

The mantis-like creature began to think: they had empowered the most sadistic power-mad ape-ling, they had organized the deep grooves within the Thule and Vril power elite, but these detected wavelengths emitted from a coldness that was not driven by hate or lust for power -- they seethed with danger. The dangerous wavelengths seemed to have been processed outside of time; there may have been a desperation at some point in the time line... but in this moment there was only calculation... determination...

Some sense of curiosity was overrinding his urge to escape. Hanging upside down in the shadows of the underground hallway, his antenna waved, tasting the air... reaching out for more information. He was mesmerized, feeling as if he had entered into the story he was reading only moments before. He paused to wonder how Theodore Sturgeon was going to resolve the story. He knew the lust for information the Mold Mind felt. He has partaken of the Red Algae. He allowed himself a humourous thought: "Was Theodore Sturgeon a fish-man, an algae eater himself?"

<center><xflash>http://www.youtube.com/v/wXGR3YR4Qxk&hl</xflash></center>

The sense of curiosity suddenly shifted into an almost uncontrollable erotic urge. Alton Drew was humming a song that was unfolding from deep within his consciousness. Images of the most beautiful translucent wings and the finest silken hairs vibrating from segemented legs were filling his senses. The antenna were being entrained by a strange crooning frequency. All fear was vanishing even though it meant certain doom. Beads of liquid began to swell from the pores covering his body...his olefactory senses were full of his own mating scent. He began to squrry with a maddening pace up the crevices of the hall way toward the ever growing pulses of information ladened frequencies.

He found himself outside the Laboratory. He snapped to a new awarness. His military training and conditioning for this project were able to break the spell. He would not want to release the displacement technologies prematurely to the wrong agents... for it would surely cause the destruction of the Black Sun's Dark Stars. Exhausted and dripping with his own sex scent he paused to collect his senses and focus.

"I've had a love of mine own."

"I've had a love of mine own."

"I've had a love of mine own."

Like a house of cards his resolve crumbles... a rash confusion. The Star must prosper this love of his own...

All that he could focus on was the deep crooning sounds that now echoed in his head... he must be.

His gossamer wings are out now and he is flying through the lab. Passing shelves of equipment to the locked doors. He flips the locking sequences and the dimensional gates spiral out. Impelled by his deepest instincts as if drawn by the light of the star, his own star, the yellow Aldeberan...

He is free. He flys down the street.

He hears a greeting; it is Alton Drew. His insect heart is ready to spill forth its life... surely he is extending his race, releasing his genetic codes into eternity. Aldeberan will live forever, the star seed is ready to shoot forth in death-gasm.

A flash.

A blaze of hot plasma quiets a millisecond of confused anti-climax.

Green flaming goo covers the walls of the building.

Alton Drew steps into the Laboratory, slides the equipment into a leather sack, and slips out of there in a hurry... humming a little tune to himself.

<mp3>Insect heart.mp3|download</mp3>

[[Category:A Portrait of Things To Come]]

Category:▲

2009-12-06T04:35:49Z

LouisWu471: Created page with '▲'

▲

2009-12-06T04:35:35Z

LouisWu471: Created page with 'Category: ▲'

[[Category: ▲]]

Dr. C.

2009-08-24T23:49:57Z

LouisWu471:

[[Image:DrC.jpg|thumb|200px|Dr. C. on task.]]

Doctor C., abbreviated, was the hand that forged the original [[Chris Titan Mask]], and it was he who raised [[Rodent Industries]] out of the muck. There is some controversy over his spinal dog experiments but that's for another link.

 
[[Category: Orbital Space City Ketheres and its Subdistricts]]
[[Category: KERNEL - Contributors]]
[[Category:Field Operatives]]