I receive e-mail. Some messages are dismissive, a very small percentage of those evincing outrage at the thought of my existence, either as fact or farce. There are notes from those few people with whom I maintain semi-regular correspondence. Finally, and perhaps most disturbingly, there are those who seem to find some small sliver of hope in my scribblings here. To them I can only reply- I do not understand.

I have never accomplished anything of note. I did not rescue Jews from the Holocaust. I did not spirit escaped slaves along the Underground Railroad. I did not hold the plague at bay, nor lead any peoples to either greatness or destruction. I never eased life’s burdens upon Men. I have inspired no poets, tortured no romantics, discovered no transcendental truths… in short, there are no great acts I might point to with pride. The bulk of my life has been spent in the underside of humanity, amongst the poor, or the low, or the vile. What pride I might allow myself is writ upon the ledgers of the mundane.

I have acted to change things, to shape my surroundings to suit my liking, but those times are best left without comment. My capacity for monstrous behavior haunts me, and it is no small factor in the confusion that now surrounds me. It would be so simple to force matters in a direction more acceptable, but I cannot escape the fear such a notion brings upon me.

I compare the vast majority of my life against the last eleven decades and it leaves me somewhat at a loss. The sudden abandonment of the lifestyle that served my purposes so well for so long has unsettled me- I am uncertain of my direction, my place in these times. This journal is little more than the latest manifestation of the confusion that has ruled me since I cast aside the shadows. That recent events have driven home the folly of such a life only compounds my foolishness- faced with the certainty I should return to those dark and comfortable spaces I once called mine I instead choose stubborn denial.

That some find hope in this… it is yet more proof that no one can truly understand the workings of the inner human being.

Posted on January 19th, 2005
Filed under: Immortality, Philosophy, Regrets | 3 Comments »

I have done away with my old counter by NextGenStats after reports from assorted individuals that they were serving up pop-up advertisments for spyware scanning.

Posted on January 14th, 2005
Filed under: Administrata | Comments Off on Site Note

I had already been up two hours or more when dawn drew near and the younger Kelly began to awaken. As I heard him begin to stir, I pulled down the tent wall he had strung against the lean-to, then ran a few steps and smoothly mounted the horse I had prepared. I readied one of the two muskets I had loaded, took careful aim, and waited. A silent smile touched my lips as he bellowed a loud oath at the sudden inrush of cold air?and a louder one when he discovered himself hobbled. While he slept on his side in the night I had managed to reach under his thick blankets without waking him and tie his left wrist behind his back by a short length of rope to his right ankle. I had used a clever knot that only tightened (and thus would only be felt) when he began to yank on it. He would be able to sleep comfortably but not to stand without removing the rope. As he cursed and fell over in the sudden morning cold, his father also stirred and gave a yelp, finding himself similarly half-tied. At that moment I fired the weapon, aiming between the two of them, then dropped the gun to the ground.
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Posted on January 8th, 2005
Filed under: The Past | 1 Comment »

Darkness was falling rapidly upon us, but the Kelly’s kept moving, trying to make up lost time. I had the impression Tom knew of a good campsite and was willing to travel another hour or two in darkness to reach it. That they had declined to spend the night at the cabin in favor of covering more ground spoke volumes. I stayed silent, having screamed and wept myself hoarse the first hour of the journey. I was stiff and sore from being tied to the mule and my mind was nearly numb from the shock of what had transpired. I could not even be angry with any of them for they all believed they were doing what was right.
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Posted on January 3rd, 2005
Filed under: The Past | 1 Comment »

The sound of his breathing filled me with dread, for it was wet and rasping. When he coughed it was with the rough of agony and ruin. The fire was as warm as one could hope and I had done as much as I could towards sealing our dilapidated cabin against the wind, but it was still far too chill. Nonetheless I coaxed Jeremy to unwrap himself and lose some of his fevered heat to the air, particularly when his temperature would soar and his mind would become clouded with delusion. When lucid I plied him with hot cups of herbal tea made from plants and roots I knew could be relied upon to ease his discomfort and aid his breathing. The pickings were slim, for the season had long turned, but there was enough to provide a slender reed of hope to which I would cling.

“This is vile,” he rasped after sipping at my latest concoction, “but I prefer it to the blood letting and purgatives of the doctors I’ve known.”
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Posted on December 31st, 2004
Filed under: The Past | 3 Comments »

I can stand again. I find myself somewhat ashamed for resenting the debilitating circumstance of being confined to a wheelchair for all but brief moments. I am still in pain, but the worst is clearly behind me. I can make my way with a cane, it is still an effort and my left leg shall likely annoy me somewhat for another week, but it is good to be amongst the motile once again. I know there are many more for whom such injuries are not so easily set aside.

A further indication of my returning health: I am suddenly acutely aware that this city is a college town. Of beef and liquor I have had plenty since leaving the hospital. Now other appetites do call for my attention. They will have to wait, however, for I am returning home to Pennsylvania for Christmas. I am sufficiently whole to appear there without requiring cumbersome explanations, and over the last week I have lost just a tiny bit of the trepidation I felt.

Still, I am one to prepare against need, particularly having been recently caught unawares. For instance, I managed to obtain a firearm (do not ask how) so that I have some measure of extra security. I am usually a fan of automatic pistols, but this revolver seems to suit me well, being small handled and easily concealed while still offering decent stopping power. It turned out to be a fortuitous acquisition, given the events of this past evening.

I have been ?mugged’ before, with varying results. I am disinclined to yield to the demands of society’s bottom-feeders, but I am no fool. In this case it was a relatively feeble attempt and the pistol put a stop to it quite handily. That and the broken knee and shattered teeth of two of the would-be highwaymen. My companion was somewhat flustered, but it was all of a minor inconvenience in the end. For myself, that is.

As to other precautions I have taken, let us simply say that I may now disappear at need far more efficiently than at any time previous.

I missed Thanksgiving with the family, but by all accounts it went quite well. Those old enough to remember the house when it was still in regular use were suitably impressed. Those who had heard only tales of its former glory were similarly given pause as they came to understand the tales they had been regaled with by their elders were not simple nostalgia, but honest fact. That in itself was enough to provide satisfaction, but still I wish I had been there. Jeremy had no direct descendants- I find myself curious about those descended from the children I helped raise.

I find myself eager for Christmas.

Posted on December 22nd, 2004
Filed under: The Present | 3 Comments »

Pain is a relative thing. I am capable of enduring levels of pain others might find excruciating, but this is more a matter of long experience rather than some innate superiority on my part. After all, pain is generally a warning sign of illness or injury, and I am proof against such things.

That said the pain is nearly unbearable. It is a pressure against my temper and rationality, eruptions of crippling fire that leave me weak and trembling upon their passing. It ends with a trip to the toilet, then the raging hunger comes again and the cycle repeats until exhaustion brings merciful respite in unconsciousness.

I apologize for my reticence, but I am still uncertain what to do. The recent events in Denver coupled with my injuries have left me unbalanced unto madness and the urge to simply flee is hard upon me. Once again this morning I nearly succumbed to the urge to destroy this journal yet I stayed my hand again. While typing is difficult and painfully slow I do find that somehow it soothes me, if only a little. At the moment I am in need of whatever soothing I might find.

Then there is the pain of my soul. It did not go well with my friends. The one has died and the other, overcome with grief and loss, became so angry with me I thought he might never forgive me. Perhaps he should not, but he did, and in doing so he made so very clear to me the guilt he feels- he believes my current circumstance to be his responsibility. To my dear friend I can say only this- it could have been any intersection, in any city, on any night. It seems it would be inevitable, given enough time, and we both know the truth of that, do we not? Mourn your wife, as I mourn for you, and think not of my troubles. They are transitory and I shall emerge whole once again. You are one of a dwindling group of friends who know me as I am and care for me for who I am. I do not believe I can ever repay that debt.

And now there is… another.

How shall I describe him? A friend? There is potential although in all honesty he is not one I normally would have considered. We have been thrust together he and I, by an impulsive act born of desperation. I knew of him through his public persona and upon our meeting I was pleased to find the public face a fair reflection of the inner man. Circumstances have forced me to act in moments upon notions I should have taken decades to plan. My history with such things is somewhat less than encouraging.

He is annoying. That seems a good sign.

Posted on December 10th, 2004
Filed under: The Present | 2 Comments »

Whither goes my poetic friend?

Posted on December 5th, 2004
Filed under: The Present | 2 Comments »

This would be exciting were I not alone, or in such circumstance as I now find myself. This city is new to me and I am unequal to the task of exploration, being weighted with such dire needs and regrets.

I have never become accustomed to the death of a friend, but I believed this time I had what I needed to make this something to hold on to, an act of unmitigated good. And I did succeed at that in no small measure, but in the end my presence was as it has always been- wound rather than balm. That from that night and its achingly painful end I should then tumble in to this circumstance, having all my privacy stolen, all my deepest fears rendered reality… days after returning to awareness I am still numbed from the shock of it.

I reject the notion of fate. This horrifying turn of events seems inevitable in retrospect. I should have prepared for it, now I am forced to improvise, to put my trust in those over whom I have but the most tenuous of control and simply wait for events to play out.

I missed Thanksgiving with Edna and the family. I fear I may never see them again. I ache to weep over this, but I am so desperately tired.

Posted on November 25th, 2004
Filed under: The Present | 4 Comments »

Sudden events require my presence in Denver. I cannot be certain when I shall return.

Posted on November 10th, 2004
Filed under: The Present | 1 Comment »