Poltroon, come face me in battle!

A few entries down I still wrote it was a holy month - by now it seems that it's been the month of Murphy's Law, but no one had informed me about it in time.
Alright, to be fair, not quite everything went sideways, but some of it did in the weirdest ways - but that's classified, can't be talked about. Save to say that it's quite depressing, and I can't help wondering endlessly how things could have taken such strange turns.


But things could be worse, and to remind myself of it I took some selfies. I've had the idea for a long time and I wish I could do some more on-cam performance, but as it is, I have to take all pics in a mirror for there's no one else who could take them for me.

Here goes... Who's the "poltroon" I'm addressing? No one in particular actually, although certain con artists whose names I don't know and don't care to find out could well stand in, as their actions have cost me a lot. (They're certainly not artists but rather treating actual artists with disrespect, and there's a little pun in the former part of the word I used above.)

But what follows is mainly just me putting on my warrior face, expressing my ferocious nature and taking pride in how terrifying I am. Bragging? Ok, that too.

"You don't even look like a woman." - No, and I'm not.
"But you can't be a man." - No, and I'm not.
Not a woman, not a man. A warrior is what I am!
And a fierce protector too. The most loyal friend and most horrible foe!

Exaggerating much, are we, Diane? :D

I could have been a Klingon. ;)

I could have been a Viking. ;)

Most of all, an Amazon.

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Tomorrow being the Sabbath night, I'm planning to make it a sacred night of ritual. Having no idea how it's gonna turn out I don't know yet whether or not I'll be writing about it here.
In any case, I wish a wonderful and magical Hallows Eve to all Sisters and Brothers in Satan, and to everyone who is dear to me!

Profound thoughts about the world

No, seriously. What you see here is only the final conclusion.

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... ;)

The cursed Hell spawn with the Evil Stare

No, this ain't just some bragging once more about how evil I am, nor is it a fictional story.

I can't help being what I am. I never minded being that. I don't think I have the Evil Stare, and if I did I'd use it against enemies only. Surely not people who have done me no harm or whom I hold dear.
I'm the ultimate loner, antisocial you may say and that's fair to say, and I'm terribly inept at social interaction.
All this usually doesn't matter in my daily life, where all human interaction is usually confined to Facebook. (Writing is so much easier than talking.) And under normal circumstances I might even take pride in people being shocked or even scared by what I am. But this one time it was just horrible, it was the most horrible thing ever, and my very first reaction was denial - this wasn't about me. But by now I do know well that it was.

That Tuesday evening, returning from Amsterdam, was so very weird. Rather, the last leg of it was, from Dusseldorf, when it was announced the stop in Bonn would be omitted because of some paramedic mission at the platform, and so I had to get off in Cologne and take another train to Bonn from there.

When inquiring about this at an info desk, one of the two guys in attendance pointed at the pentagram patch on my battle jacket and said, "Do you know this is the sign of Baphomet?" Or rather, 'Baphomé', with the t silent and emphasis on the last syllable, was how he pronounced it. I showed him the letters SATAN tattooed on my left, inner forearm, and he said triumphantly, "Oh, you do know Baphomé!"

Confused by this I wandered off to double-check the info given by the other guy, concerning my next train. But after walking just ten or twenty yards or so I was addressed by another guy who also pointed out my pentagram, gave the sign of the horns and announced that he was Russian and that he was very interested in this. I couldn't be bothered at the time though as I'd already been traveling four or five hours and excused myself to take care of my train, which he politely accepted.

This was already unusual, but all fine so far. It was a third incident that was to occur later on the train which was so awful. It was so absolutely improbable too, almost impossible, therefore my denial - this couldn't be happening. Thus staring at my hands, I must be dreaming this.
Nothing was said and nobody was physically harmed, but at least one person was wounded in other ways and by her own fault, and that person was me. I hope it was me only. And more than this can't ever be said about the incident in this place.

Save to say that things had been quite out of whack for three months already, and I couldn't quite tell if out of whack in a good or bad way. Then about ten days ago everything went down the crapper and I was devastated, thus fleeing to Amsterdam.
And by now it's completely insane and has to be absolute rock bottom. There's no one else to blame. There's no possible help but from my Master and our Infernal Father.
I hoped to have a good time on Halloween, but instead I'll have to pay for this.

I know excuses are lame, but can you imagine how terribly alone I am? *
To whom it concerns: I'm so very sorry for any nuisance I may have caused.



* [EDIT: This is to say, how terribly alone I've always been in my life, and it was meant to explain (or rather, to lamely excuse) my social ineptitude. I thought this was clear but it was pointed out to me by a dorky stalker that it wasn't. And yes, I may say dorky stalker because I'm socially inept and about as sensitive as the armor cladding on a tank.]

Fleeing to Amsterdam once more

I blew my savings on this latest trip starting Sunday morning, but having just suffered what's fair to call one of the gravest disappointments of my life I felt an urgent need to flee to Amsterdam once more, even if unable to afford staying more than two days - a need to grab the opportunity while the weather was so unseasonably pleasant.

The trip started out with a half hour delay of the first train, which turned into a full hour as I had to take the following three trains one hour later each. But I still arrived in Amsterdam early enough to rent a bike (MacBike closes at 6 PM). I had bought a new public transport chipcard on my last visit but chose to walk to the bike rental instead, from Central Station to Waterlooplein. And for the first time since learning of the aforementioned disappointment I felt at peace while doing so, even walking the ever so crowded Warmoesstraat. The sun was shining and sparkling off what seemed to be already very early x-mas ornaments arching the street at intervals, and it was really warm for the season. At Dam Square there was a fairground with a large Ferris wheel and several other rides, I never learned what the occasion was but it was nice to look at the colorful and very futuristic light display, like being in a sci-fi movie.

Warmoesstraat

 My booking at the hostel, made only two days in advance and already paid, had been for a large, mixed-gender dorm which I'm absolutely not fond of but it had been the last available vacancy. However I was so lucky to be given a bed at the very same six-bed, all female dorm of my previous stay, even the same bed, top bunk #6, which was a very welcome privilege.

Chatting briefly with the lady at the reception I was told that the current "hot" weather (not really hot at all, just lower 70s, but indeed unusually summerlike for the season) apparently was sent our way by a hurricane about to hit Ireland. Upon returning home I would soon see this confirmed but back then I was quite puzzled to hear about this, having no access to news while traveling.

Having put the sheets on my bunk and emptied my backpack of all but the essentials, putting the rest into the locker, I set out on the MacBike once more and found the new location of Baba coffeeshop, formerly in Warmoesstraat but now moved near the western harbor docks. The nightfall over the canals there was so beautiful, the deep, darkening blue of the sky up high and the yellows of the horizon reflecting on the water amidst the picturesque boats. A little bat flying by over the canal at the Oude Houthaven (Old Timber Harbor).

Nightfall at Oude Houthaven

Eventually I rode back to Vondelpark and brought the bike into the shed of the hostel. All the bottom racks were occupied with other bikes, so I had to lift mine onto one of the top racks. The MacBike being sturdy and heavy, a lot heavier than both my own bikes at home, it wasn't an easy feat even for me, but who else could possibly manage if not me! Once I had the hang of it it worked quite fine: each single rack can be extended outward, that rail where the wheels go in is at a height of about 5 feet, shoulder height; in goes the bike, and the rack is pushed back in line with the bike on it. Such double storied bike racks are quite common in Amsterdam (for good reason).

Not the shed, but similar double-story bike racks

I then wandered around the park, talking to my Master. Yeah, talking bullshit too... I felt like being silly. My Master may not be the right person to be silly with, not exactly... but he's the only right person for me, and I'm being silly sometimes. Burying my sadness deep inside, just enjoying to be there, I even sang to him. Among two or three others, a new song I haven't quite finished yet, with a mournful, slightly oriental sounding melody.

Wherever the journey goes,
Traversing the void
Forever
It begins and it ends (there)
And everlasting my abode
Is Roba El Khaliyeh

Roba El Khaliyeh, the Empty Space
In my heart
The bleak wasteland they call
Roba El Khaliyeh

The next morning at the hostel dorm, my first act was to slay a big skeeter in the shower, it had settled on the ceiling above me and I jumped up to squish it, it was full of blood, but as far as I can tell the blood wasn't mine. LOL

I bought breakfast at Albert Heijn's (supermarket) and sat in the park to eat it. I had no particular plans besides enjoying the sunny weather and riding around town, walking across the Waterlooplein Market, and checking out some stores. I took a ride on the ferries behind Central Station too which is always enjoyable (unless the weather is too cold), and they take you across Het Ij free of charge, even including your bike.
At night I rode to Dam Square to just watch the fairground with its funky light show for a while. The lights were good enough for me - I didn't even care to check the prices for the rides, knowing they'd be unaffordable anyway. But standing on the wall by that monument and dreamily watching was free.
Then I was back at the park again, sitting by one of the ponds on the lawn. Lots of other people sat there too, some had music playing. I didn't mind it, it was just Amsterdam being Amsterdam. The wildlife of the park is quite accustomed to these crowds too, herons and other water birds, and I watched two little bats flying to and fro above the pond too.

Dam Square fairground

At one place in the big park there's some sort of huge, wooden jungle gym with various lofty walkways, I took the adventure of climbing around that thing in the darkness, which was fun although my backpack got in the way a bit.

The next morning I already had to check out of the hostel by 10:30. I remembered to take my bike out of the shed before that time, lifting it out oif the high rack again, since I still needed the key card to open the shed. The hostel is undergoing some renovations currently, and that morning there was a huge boom lift and the reception entrance was closed off; they had put some little green and yellow arrows on the ground outside to guide people around the building through the backdoor by the bike shed and through some corridors, which was quite ingenious and funny.

Follow directions. LOL

This day was colder and not so sunny anymore, the sky was overcast, and by early afternoon I noticed how strange it looked: The sun was shining through, but not as a whitish dot of light as often the case with high fog, but instead the sun was fully visible, sharply outlined, and orange in color, dim enough to look straight at it. It was quite puzzling, "Look at this weird, orange Apocalypse sun," I said to my Master.
Back home that evening I would learn that this phenomenon was also caused by that stray hurricane that had by then passed over Ireland.

Orange Apocalypse sun over Amsterdam!

The ride home wasn't without some minor complications again though. The second train from Utrecht was just about 5 minutes delayed so that in Venlo I had to run to reach the already waiting connection train. Some other young folks were running with me, mostly males of about 20 years old, and of course I had to make a point of overtaking and outrunning everyone else and being the first to reach the waiting train. Although I was the only one who had to fix her heavy ponytail after that. LOL

But it was in Dusseldorf where shit got weird, with the fourth and last train - well, supposedly the last one. It was already delayed by 15 or 20 minutes when it arrived. Then soon after boarding it there was an announcement that due to medical emergency work at the platform, the stop in Bonn would be omitted! I then overheard a lady in a seat across from me talking on her phone, presumably in jest saying that she couldn't keep coming to Bonn anymore because of how there was always something like this on that route.
I had to get off in Cologne and take another train to Bonn; that one arriving without further incident at least.
So... always problems in Bonn? No wonder - the place where the cursed Hell spawn lives! Yours truly... LOL

The battle is lost

At least it has all the appearance of it. When I posted the previous entry about the near-accident, which left me so elated for having been saved, I didn't yet know what disastrous news I was still in for that same night.
I probably should still be grateful to have been spared much worse disaster, as in physical harm. But that same night, something anticipated each waking hour for precisely three months and one day was taken away and utterly destroyed. Something that had been meant for me, that I still believe my Master had meant for me, and I couldn't understand how it could be that it was simply taken away now.
But I guess it's just because humans have free will and, like most, those involved in this matter are greedy, ignorant scum, ignorant of any deeper significance in anything and merely interested in their own profit.

As a matter of fact I lost a huge amount of money to this matter as well, at least a huge amount for someone like me, which I'm unlikely to regain a single penny of. But although I'm anything but wealthy, the financial one is the least significant aspect of my loss.

I hate to admit that when suffering a really hard blow I'm prone to falling into a bottomless depression out of which I have no idea how to ever emerge again.

Someone in one of the gore groups posted a video of a guy, presumably on drugs, who kept repeatedly headbutting a bus, really hard, but needless to say the bus ignored the provocation.
Somehow I feel a bit like that guy, for dwelling on it, for being desperate to talk to someone about it, when there's nothing further to be said about it and the only person I should really talk to is my Master. Which I do, of course, but I wish I had the knowledge and ability to do it in a way as to truly converse with him.

Instead, I'm running. Not just literally, for workout. I spontaneously decided to travel once more although I can barely afford it, especially now. But I decided it was better in the short term, and less final, than considering to leave this place of trial for good. The weather right now is quite favorable for the late season and so I decided to grab the opportunity. I asked my Master to look out for me though as I'm in a really fucked-up state of mind right now.

As always, it is with him, with Satan's son, that I find my only comfort.
I'll probably start writing another story soon; they're for me to have something to really live in.
All these stories are open ended. Why? Because what comes after is entirely up to him; what comes after is entirely unknown to me or to any mere mortal. Because unlike in the movie, there will be a happy end, there will be victory. It's my stories, after all.

Visions of Apocalypse give me solace. Why would someone want to perpetuate all this trial and suffering here! I sure wouldn't mind if our President and Little Rocket Man of North Korea could work something out together to end it all... If it were that easy. Some people seem to be so naive to believe that.
But Hiroshima and Nagasaki didn't exactly end the world, obviously, and even though they're said to have been mere firecrackers compared to modern nukes, which can be thousands of times more powerful, a lot of those have been tested in the past, and even the most powerful of all, the 50 megaton Tsar Bomba, produced a mushroom cloud of 40 miles high and spread quite a bit of fallout, but didn't cause any long term damage at all.

I find solace in the darkest art and poetry. I'd have wished to perform some of my own on cam, and also to record some dancing for my sharky girl, my best friend, who told me she'd really love to see it. But sadly, although I did manage to install my webcam again I can't use it because every time I try all I get is a blue screen and my PC will crash. And so I'm reduced to writing.

Where will you run to when you have no place left to run, when all around is on fire?
When right through the flames is the only way left. You must keep running, running - seek the darkness, the darkness is shelter!

Roba El Khaliyeh, known as the Empty Space, that immense desolation.
Roba El Khaliyeh is where I live. (Only a lot colder.)

Oh, and have an Infernally blessed Friday the 13th, everyone!
It's considered unlucky by Christians because JC was crucified on a Friday the 13th, so they say.
Lucky and sacred to Satanists, thus. I had a little good luck in that when I bought a sixpack of coke at the supermarket I later discovered I was charged for a sixpack of water instead, which costs 19 cents a bottle instead of 39. LOL
I was also lucky in still getting a hostel bed and a train ride for Sunday.
Other than that, I still feel much like it's me who has been crucified right now.
But that was three days ago - actually time to rise again... ;)

The battle rages on and on

Today was leg day once more. I started, as usual, on the treadmill with a 5 minute warm-up, followed by short sets of sprints with breaks in between, all in all spending about 20 minutes on the treadmill.
I did 10 sets today, starting out with 17 kph and a 10% incline. (17 kph is really slow for a sprint? Sure, I can run at that speed for several minutes continuously - without the incline! At 10% incline, 30 seconds on a good day, steps up the game to a whole new level. Try it!)
I did 3 sets at these settings, then lowered the incline and ramped up the speed. Each set lasting to failure, having to grab handrails and jump out, trying to last at least 20 seconds each time, counting down to the start of the next set, drill sergeant style as usual - not giving a shit what others might think, I'm a pro and it helps me motivate myself.
"30 seconds - mark! - Get your ass ready, for nuclear war! In 20! Ten! Five! Go!!!"
Your last battle on Earth, oh yeah right!
Do everything like it's your last battle on Earth - make it count. For it might always quite possibly be your last one.
This one's from Carlos Castaneda. And when you find good advice, you best keep it.

The squats then, for some reason, didn't go so well for me, at least at one point. I did them right after the sprints, but that's nothing unusual.
I did a warm-up set, 20 reps with 90 kg barbell. Then I increased to 110 kg, which ain't no really heavy weight for me. I've done free squats with 150 and on the Smith machine up to 180 kg,but then just some 5 reps or so.
I meant to do 16 with the 110 kg, 15 of which went just fine. At #16, sudden and complete failure - absolutely no idea how or why. I couldn't get up again to rack the barbell, then lost balance, the bar crashing down onto the horizontal side rails of the squat rack and me hanging underneath it, on my knees, in a brief moment of shock. I quickly realized everything was fine, praise Satan.
"Praise Satan," was what I then said indeed as I got up, leaning on the bar, catching my breath. And next I said, "Fuck the Pope!" (Typical expression of mine.) In fact I'm not quite sure about the order in which I uttered both things, but I think it was this one. I'm not quite sure either if anyone noticed but I didn't care.
I suddenly felt really blessed, knowing this could have ended really disastrously, and knowing also pretty well who was watching over me.

I had to take off 50 kg of weight in order to be able to rack the bar back in position. Then I put the weights back on as before and proceeded to do another set with the same weight as before.
My Master doesn't save me for quitting...
That next set went perfectly fine again. Then a guy showed up to ask, in German, how many more sets I was doing. I understood and said, "Two more."
"Two?" he asked, and I confirmed again. He walked away to probably do something else in the meantime.
Two more sets I did, but after stacking the weight up to 130 kg.
I continued all the rest of the workout as usual, feeling strong again. No idea what had caused that momentary lapse and near-accident. Maybe it was meant this way, for me to realize something.

I had had another nightmare the other night, of my fucked-up childhood. The same way all my nightmares are - they're never scary, of the waking-up-screaming kind, but instead they're just absolutely depressing, either of being trapped with my "birth family" and the stupid, pointless fights, or imprisoned in the juvenile psychiatry where they had put me; my nightmares are of indignity and failure, the same indignity and failure that once was my life.
This particular dream was of the psychiatry once more. The only good thing about it was that my last thought in the dream was, "If only I could be back at my home, with my colored lights and all the things I cherish, and at peace." Then I woke up, and there I was!

I fortunately no longer have these nightmares as often as I used to. But this particular one, I think, may have come from recent worries I've had. Worries about being never good enough, about possibly still being seen as that same indignity and failure I once was. About being unworthy.

After today's near-accident, things felt strangely changed. I felt happy... blessed. I somehow felt my Master's touch on me. His watchful presence.


Being a pro athlete I know very well that you always have to respect the weights and handle them with care. Handling seriously heavy weights can't be taken lightly.
It can be dangerous even when you do everything right, as demonstrated by the incident. As is riding the bicycle. I heard that some decades ago, many cyclists died in traffic and they held rallies to have the roads made safer for them, which was eventually done. That was long before I was even born, back in the 70s I guess. It's much safer nowadays, but nothing's ever perfectly safe. In particular for the kid who has to always ride faster than everyone else. That same kid who has to lift heavier than everyone else. :D

And then ultimately, everything comes down to faith. Being a mere mortal, so much is beyond your control. Who will you put your faith in? To whom will you entrust your fate? Your life, your soul?
I'm truly grateful that to me personally, the answer to these questions is above and beyond all doubt.
Faith is everything.
Honor and loyalty.
Praise Satan!

The winter drawing in...

I miss the squeaky toys in the nocturnal woods. I don't know for sure what they are - some nocturnal animals with screechy voices, always coming from the ground, so they're not birds. Someone suggested they're probably foxes, and I think that's most likely true, but since I can't be perfectly sure I just keep calling them squeaky toys. I miss the beautiful nights up in the woods, staring at the clouds surrounding the moon, or simply into the darkness, bats flitting above my head uttering their strange clicking sounds, and seeing the glowworms by the side of the trail.
But Germany is freezing cold already, way too cold to roam outdoors, especially in the night, and especially for cold blooded creatures like myself. It's in part that reptilian aspect I seem to possess. I may also have Raynaud's disease.

"I feel the winter drawing in, on Hangman's Hyll" (I looove this song!)

Growing out my undercut for the
cold season.

Running yesterday went well again though. I was miserably cold only during the first mile or so, the first of about eight. In 64 minutes. That may sound awfully slow for a young pro athlete, but it was over 100 m elevation, up, halfway down, up once more, and part of the way up extremely muddy trails, in the rain. I stop running outside only when it's less than 40 F, at that point I'll stick to the treadmills. But while I can I prefer the woods, the mud, the real trails, a glimpse of wilderness and freedom.
Today, workout at the gym again. Working to push my chin-ups beyond 20 in one set, 20 is ok but there's only onward and upward.

I miss Amsterdam too, but even if I could afford traveling there more than once a year, right now the long, long winter is ahead, no longer the time to spend all day on a bicycle.
But an afterglow shall remain. It's the month of Halloween, and next Friday will be the 13th. It is a holy time, and this is the way I will see it, this is what I will hold on to - holy to the Infernal Father.
Faith is everything, thus I have been taught, and is all that remains while being swept ever further toward the uncertain, the unknown, the inevitable.

I pray, Satan, Lord, Thy Will be done,
And that each road I travel on
With Thy magic Thou guardest,
Thine Infernal Powers armor me,
That they who would sow harm on me
All but their own ruin harvest

The faith, unbending intent, and the power of a warrior are what I have in my favor, what I must use to venture onward. There seem to be others who are more gifted to sense what lies beyond. There are those who feel irresistibly drawn to it, regardless. For this here is a place of trial.

I made a new cover for my Facebook profile, editing in Photoshop the handwritten invocation verse from my song lyrics "Overhead the Crows". It's so totally at odds now with my current profile pic, because that's the one from the previous entry and it's silly. I don't care. LOL

How I answer my phone

This is how I answer my phone. LOL

And yes, it's a rotary dial landline. Probably a lot older than myself, from a fleamarket.
I never had any other.