A Testament to My Madness (Donovan)

Single-writer in-character stories and journals.
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Wendigo
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A Testament to My Madness (Donovan)

Post by Wendigo »

OOC Note: This is a journal thread dedicated to the perspective of Wendigo's Wraith, Donovan. Yes, there is a purpose to this.
For Donovan's first "thread", start here: http://www.mooncalfstudios.com/pathofth ... 64&t=15392
Date: Meaningless!

The bright world moves too fast. Peaces of moments hardly. Hardly-moments! Merely pieces of them. Pieces of mirrors. Look inside... see nothing. Nothing proving hard to paint. Needs black I can't find.

Tried to make red into black. Added more black. Just got blackish-red. A thought! Red isn't really red... it's everything else. Pushes red away, takes every else. Making black from red needs more of everything else. ESPECIALLY MORE RED. Tried that too. Didn't work. New red was too bright. Red stains don't come out. Like blood or wine or clay or blood again.

Red and red went round and round. Ashes, ashes... we all UNMAKE CREATION!!! Thought I had black, but didn't. Hard to paint a new image without the proper paints. Black might not be dark enough anyway. Look up, see black, but it's not dark black... only see that in the Shadow Realm. Need to coat the easel with Shadow Stuff. Only way to start again. Start with nothing. Can't just unmake easel. Smash it to pieces and splinters and fibers and atoms. Smashing atoms apparently causes great brightness. Never would have guessed. Need great brightness, but blackness must come first.

He's trying, bless his heart. Trying to stab a world. Bleed it to death. Not sure which one. Strings got tangled somewhere. Might not matter. Tangled strings. Got too much red in my black. Would start over... hundred years not so long... but the bright world is impatient. Everything so fast. The future demands to be the present, and the present can't wait to not be itself. Everyone wants their art RIGHT NOW!!! Very demanding. Very annoying. Like dragging a knife on the bottom of your plate. Stabbing a world not half so painful if we could just FIND ITS BLOOD!

Just a little. A drop. Drip drop!
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Re: A Testament to My Madness (Donovan)

Post by Wendigo »

Date: SPIDERS! SPIDERS EVERYWHERE!

Drip drop!

Looked back at the sky. See ourselves dropping through the stars. Dropping! Free fall! Everything so fast! Can't believe it will take a million-trillion-trillion-trillion little numbers! All the stars. Burning out. Watching it right now. Can’t help wonder… what happens first? All the pretty lights burn out, or we finally drop to the bottom?

Pretty lights. Petty lights. Pretty petty. Pet pet pet. Pitiful.

Long ago, man thinks stars fell. Then learns stars don’t fall. But they do! I’ve seen it. We all fall down. Oh, I remember! That’s how it ends!

THAT’S.
HOW.
EVERYTHING.
ENDS.


All relative though. Mayhaps that’s the lesson. When everything’s falling, everything’s standing still. We just have to fall faster! Everything so fast but SO GODDAMNED SLOW. Just a little faster. Just like the red. Just has to be a little darker. Paint on that… it looks black.

NO! Not good enough! This is ART! Leave estimations to statisticians! Must be perfect! “Imperfection is perfection” said someone incapable of perfection. Probably ugly to boot. Clearly not a linguist either. Black not a color: is absence of color. Absence. But paint is paint: not absence. How do we make paint into not-paint? If I’m insane and then I’m not, what shall remain? Nothing. Darkness. Need to paint on the darkness. Need not-not absence. Not absence? Need it not. Very knotty.

Can’t be done. Need a medium. Medium always affects outcome. Paint on canvas or porcelain or wood or human souls or paper or glass or leather… always something of the original left behind. Leaves its mark. Can’t have just paint. Can’t have just art.

Trick the gods. Make medium part of the art. But how can something be part of nothing? Something unmakes nothing into itself. Stuff is so annoying that way… burn it burn it burn it burn it. Burn the ashes… it’s still stuff. Persistent little shitty atoms mucking up perfect nothingness. Dust motes in the mind’s eye. Can’t see the answer.

Blindly stumbling forward. Blindness is like fake nothingness. Pluck out the eyes and pretend nothing exists. Not good enough. Ignorance never good enough. Can’t have it both ways. Must make him see. See the value in unseeing. Closest I’ve gotten. Can almost taste victory.

Tastes like ashes.
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Re: A Testament to My Madness (Donovan)

Post by Wendigo »

Date: Lukewarm Lucidity

Endured “Phantom of the Opera” today. Don’t understand. The Butler-Phantom wants girl, but tries to not kill everyone else. That’s why he loses. Rogue elements have to be burned. When hair from brush falls into paint, you remove them. Not very good Phantom.

Not very good Opera either. Very agrarian. Not even Italian. Lacks heart. One thing about English: can’t spell “heart” without “art”. Makes sense. Probably coincidence. Most of English is preposterous. Silent e. Purposeless. “I before E except after C… or for no explicable reason.” Rules are necessary. Explains this lot. No rules and no rulers. Anything goes. A million Silent E’s pretending themselves real vowels. World won’t miss them. Problem is worse since my day. English widely spoken now. Also, now the E’s come back when you cut them off. Damnable auto-correction of language. Generation so dumb, they let their pens do their writing.

Won’t always be that way. Now inkwell is spilling. Releasing darkness within. Once it’s out… no putting it back. Then they see: the inkwell and the letters are the same. Just have to be patient. Distractions! Interruptions! Maybe Phantom would win girl if Tim Horton wasn’t always interrupting them.

He doesn’t even sing.
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Re: A Testament to My Madness (Donovan)

Post by Wendigo »

Date: Head of the Pin

Comparative Adverbs. More quickly. Quicklier. Can't communicate this way. He asks why I rhyme. They all hear rhyming. Can't say why. Couldn't rhyme if I wanted: don't know English, which doesn't even make sense.

Expect it's about expectation. Everything always is. Plank of wood... wood fibers... elements... atoms... protons... electrons... expectations. Whole world built on them. They call it "science", but science doesn't explain... it's just the explanation. Verbs and nouns: very different. Two men in a boat: one sees one duck, one sees two... but it's just duck and duck's reflection. But what if it wasn't? What if the duck is the reflection, and the reflection is the duck? WHAT IF THEY'RE BOTH DUCKS? Only way to know is to reach through the mirror. Can't do it: your own hand always gets in the way.

That's the thing. We can reach: we're only on one side! No hand to get in the way. Spend time on the other side. Expect it's bad, so it's bad. Reflections would think the same if they stepped through.

He reaches into the second drawer and finds a screwdriver, but screwdrivers aren't in the second drawer... they're in the third. Had Vincent switch them. Found screwdriver anyway, because it was expected. Lots do this and don't notice. Sometimes they see: the mind resists, and they notice the change. Sometimes they find the screwdriver. Never think twice about it. Why notice the expected? Also, mostly happens when tired: defenses down and expectations became extant.

Can't swap realms like toolbox drawers though. Maybe if they wake up dead. Would take many deaths. Like inertia, but with thoughts. Need overcoming force. Mass times acceleration. Can't change mass, so must change acceleration.

Quicklier.
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Re: A Testament to My Madness (Donovan)

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Date: I'd write something crazy here, but I can't find my pencil.

Might be wrong. Three weeks to admit it. One word per week. Would tremble if had matter. Matters not. Trembling matter weak. Something about three too.

Always wanted to make dark darker. Blackness never enough. Thought canvas was problem: tried to get rid of canvas. In best effort, found greater brightness than darkness. Paint could be problem. Very problematic paint. How to paint without painting? Maybe paint isn't paint. Paint changes light, but maybe not the way I think. Maybe paint is a lens. Instead of painting with paint, we'll paint with light! Now paint is not-paint! Problem solved.

Canvas may still be problematic... but may also be solution. Michelangelo said, "Every block of stone has a statue inside it." Maybe that talentless hack was on to something. Medium mightn't matter: has potential.

Potential as kindling.

Might have been going about this all wrong. Spent so much time trying to create art, forgot fire doesn't care. Indiscriminate burning... that's what we need.

Many untouched canvases: world burns fine without painting. Only needs air, fuel, and time... have plenty of all three. Maybe canvas is perfect: just magnify darkness that's already there. Maybe that is purpose of paint...

To be flammable!

Might get brighter before it gets dark again.
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Re: A Testament to My Madness (Donovan)

Post by Wendigo »

Date:
The Voices say "Wasps," but the Calendar says "Sunday".
Sun + Days + Vampires = FIRE!


Thrall once asked what method to my madness was. Told him "whenever possible... discard method". Thrall said didn't make sense.

I ripped out his tongue
and used it as a paintbrush
to create a portrait of him
getting eaten by a walrus
in his own blood.


He laughed. Then he stopped. Don't think he got it.

Younger Groom says "shock and death": doesn't get it either. Vampire containing him not relishing violence. prefer to calculate humans; doesn't understand. Doesn't understand any of it. Especially humans. Like sounding out words in foreign tongue.

Tongues surprisingly poor paintbrushes. Looked like elephant eating a clarinet. Not my best work.
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