RIP Peter Steele 1962-2010
•April 16, 2010 • Leave a CommentYesterday marked the death of Pete Steele, lead vocalist for the Gothic metal band Type O Negative. His music helped me get through some of the most difficult points in my life and for that I’ll always be greatful. He was a musical genius and he will be sorely missed for years to come.
RIP Pete
An Announcement of Rambling Sorts
•January 23, 2010 • Leave a CommentSo as you happen to have noticed, there’s been an abscence of life on here of late. And in case you were wondering, no I haven’t yet died. At least I certainly hope I haven’t. Because, all thing considered, that would be a rather earth-shattering and completely unwelcome realization. Unless I got to be a ghost-type deal. Not one of those gay little kiddie ghosts though. He’d have to be all out hard-core ghost, yet with a sensitive inside whose heart could be melted by a wayward young lass. Am I rambling? I think I am. Hmm. Dilemna. As hilarious as I find myself, I’d rather not run the risk of alienating my few and far between readers with my half-minded partially-sane ramblings. So to the announcements!
I’m preparing to write a script! I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m preparing nonetheless! If you were to harass me into giving a comparison, I’d roughly equate it to giving a monkey a handgun and asking him to accomplish a high-profile asssassination. There’s just no way you can look at that and think “Hmm. This just might work!”. You’re probably more inclined to think “Dear God! What insipid fool gave a monkey a tool of death and destruction!”. So yes, it is a foray into the unknown (and possibly disastrous) that I will be embarking on. Will I return? Probably. Will I survive? Unless I get hit by a falling piano, in all likelihood. Will I succeed? I’m sure I can make myself laugh, yes. The one true downside is that I have no idea what it’ll be about. So I’ll probably end up winging it. This, ladies and gentlemen, shall be interesting.
As for other things in the creative life of Luke, I’m editing some writing, tossing in some bits of poetry here and there, and structuring the sequel and end to my Apocalypse Duology in my head. So there are great things on the horizon. As soon as I get my time-machine built, anyways, thus enabling me to straighten out my schedule that (while not being cramped at all) I somehow continuously bitch-slap by prioritizing things that even a bum wouldn’t find pertinent. Yet still I march on, and in time I will give you all the sample of the future that you so desperately crave. (Give me a moment as I drool in anticipation that that may one day be the case).
Aside from that, life is as life always is: A hail-storm of random emotions that I have no hold over. But for once it is good and once more I feel as if I have a direction, even if the occassional virus does sideline me in a stupor of sore-throats and disgust. And yet I trudge on, forging towards an end that isn’t yet in sight but one which seems much more attainable.
So until we meet again, or until I am harrassed into writing something new into this futuristic journal, I shall bid you farewell with these few cautionary words of wisdom: If you are ever walking alone under a starlit sky, and you feel a presence with you that cannot be explained; run like hell lest you be attacked by rogue lizard-men with swords, armor, and pointy teeth.
Until we meet again, fear the dark, the light, and that eerie fog-thing weather likes to do now and again. I mean seriously. It’s creepy.
Comes a Musing Death
•January 5, 2010 • 1 CommentIn amongst the shadows did Death open his arms.
To me he beckoned, inviting, promising the lauded solitude.
Absence of pain and failures- lost loves and heartaches.
Into his darkness I gazed and with haste did I turn away.
Humanity- the unflinching reality. A harsh life in an unforgiving world.
But in this desolate land, much beauty is to be found and I will not crumble.
I will not fail in my quest. And thus shall eternal happiness be mine.
For in my rejection of death did I choose life, and a new path do I now walk.
Light has come into the darkness, and the darkness is afraid.
With it shall I fight my battle.
To See Her Waste Away
•December 2, 2009 • 2 CommentsA fallen veil, a twisted soul,
Given love is not enough,
The girl I’ve loved has fallen down,
The girl I love with veins of rot.
We met so very long ago in a different time and world
We lived and laughed and loved and married,
And for me that was enough.
But behind the veil and the shadowed eyes,
A demon woke within my bride.
It screamed in agony and in rage,
And let loose it’s hate in a firestorm blaze.
For months and days, minutes and hours,
I could not see the truth,
Of the pain behind her eyes that cried
For me to come and save her.
A smoking pipe, a rusted needle,
A pain in her arm that she must feel,
And every day she chose to forget
The life we had forged together.
Soon the pin-prick traces she could not hide,
Nor the anguish etched beneath her eyes.
They came to my notice and slapped me with shame,
For not understanding the depth of her pain.
Again the time passed as if in a dream,
As we fought a fight she wouldn’t let herself win.
Two steps forward and three steps back,
When she passed on redemption for her promised next fix.
How can you fathom the fear in my heart,
While I watched my love begin to fade?
Her lighted eyes turned dark with death, her sunfire hair to dim,
My one true love, my only love, as she chose evil over Him.
Can you blame a chemical?
Can you blame a flame?
For tearing my heart assunder,
For ripping my love away.
Is her fall a fault of mine?
Does the blame truly lie with me?
Should I have held her closer?
Could I have shown what my love could bring?
They are answers to questions I will never know,
But the images of my love will never leave my mind,
As her skin withered and her lips chapped,
Her life and soul dying, with every shallow breath.
I loved her and I loathed her,
For choosing an addiction over me.
As I wished she could have seen,
That our life, our love, our solemn vows,
Was enough to set her free.
Now I stand at her headstone- in the darkness of the night,
And I try to call back memories of when all in life was right.
But even now her face will haunt me, the gauntness overwhelming,
While I once more try to assign the blame- of who would steal her from me.
I try to tell myself a lie and make myself content,
But in the end I know the truth that she and I had failed.
She chose her lies over the promise of Faith,
And I myself- too blind to see- the guiding light above me.
Could I have made her see the truth,
If I put my faith in something more?
Could she have fought the demon back,
Had she thought to turn to God?
Answers and questions I’ll never know, this land of rotted veins,
Tearing our hearts and searing our minds as it steals all our meaning.
A life gone wrong, an addiction written song, Our faith was lost in the wind,
Only now do I see, in the presence of Thee,
That your love could have made life matter.
The Conversation of I and I
•November 21, 2009 • 2 CommentsLuke Ganje. Genius and Madman. Victim of the Aporkalypse. 1989-2009
•November 5, 2009 • 3 CommentsYes. You read that right. Luke Ganje is Dead. Deader than a doornail, in fact. Deader than any doornail that has ever been pronounced dead. But such is life. Or in this case, death. Because Luke is dead.
How you may ask? Well, while many things may have proven to be the stepping stones leading him to the inevitable end much sooner than he would have liked, it really lays at the feet of one culprite. Yes. It was Hognarok. Also known as Spammonella. Or the Baconator. For those of you who are less than adept in the knowledge of the Medical world, that would be H1N1. Which, to his very last breath, Luke still protested sounds more like a robot from Star Wars than a legitimate sickness. Did this steadfast stubbornness contribute to his downfall? No one really knows. But one thing is for certain, we lost one of the great minds in unknown literature before he even had the chance to be discovered.
While much of his life is clouded in shadows of mystery, we are still able to grasp a small bit of who this esteemed genius was through the writings he left behind. Whether it be the touching emotional journey “The Zombie Tapes of Nerd Fury” or the heartwarming parental drama “We Think You Must’ve Been Adopted, Because You Don’t Look Like Either of Us”, there are shreds of genius littered throughout the cluttered and eccentric life of the boy genius. We can only speculate as to the impact such a writer could have made had he been given the chance to live through his turbulent twenties. But as things stand, unless necromancy becomes popular once more, we are left only with a hollow heart as we in the world of literature are left to wonder what could’ve been.
Already the tabloids are chomping at the bit to get an inside scoop as to the true nature of Mr. Ganje’s death, insisting much more is at work than a simple Pig-related illness. Is it coincidence that he brought home a coffin only days earlier? Or was that cardboard sanctuary a subliminal warning that his end was nigh? Was a Ouija board at work, possibly wanting to warn Luke, yet having its words go unheeded as a mess of creepy skeleton stuffed animals marred it’s handy glow-in-the-dark board? There are already investigations pending, and an equally vicious outpouring is being braced for as relatives strain for the priceless possessions he kept in his bachelor pad of an apartment.
Already rumors are spreading that his own mother, known only as Steve, is grasping for the pieces of his unpublished writings. Known for her craft-related prowess, the seemingly kind and genial mother has long professed a desire to include various pro-knitting themes into her son’s writing, something Luke fought long and hard against as he was sure it would ruin the poetic machismo that has long infused his work. Whether a court battle will insue or not relies soully upon whether a will is discovered in one of the thousands of pages of unpublished writings kept in the sanctuary of Mr. Ganje’s apartment.
One things for sure. Today, as we reflect on the short life of the self-proclaimed madman and nerd, we can only wish that such a talent had not been taken from us so soon. He was survived by a brother and sister, a mother and father, and a few cherished friends. He did not have a girlfriend. Ever. Though he did once try to assure the masses that he was engaged to a foreign metal singer, but this ploy was to no affect and his bachelor status remained widely speculated on until the time of his death.
Now I leave you with this. From the beginning of his life, a deep and profound man whose deep and profound sayings usually got muddled in translation, let me remind you of the saying Luke never ceased to live by: “All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream”. And let us hope that he has finally woken from his dream and is now living his life in the great mystery of the Afterlife.
And now will you join me in a moment of silence as we commemorate Luke Ganje, Genius and Madman, Yet another victim of the Aporkalypse.
He was weird, he was strange, he was ruggedly handsome. He will not be forgotten.
Luke Ganje
1989-2009
Hognarok Has Had Its Say
The Newest Comings and Goings in Luke
•October 27, 2009 • 1 CommentSo. There hasn’t been much activity here lately on my part, and part of me wants to say that the reason is lack of visitors *cough* averaging one a day*cough* doesn’t really give me a whole lot of incentive. But in reality, which is a place I sadly spend most of my time, the truth is I’ve just been terribly busy. I’m still trying to get settled into my new job which, while I love, is taking time adjusting my life patterns around the helter-skelter scheduling that seems to exist without rhyme or reason. I also have been busy spending time with great friends who’ve enabled me to not only go to an amazing concert of my favorite band, but also Bree, Liz, and Andy who showed me just how funny FINDING NEMO is. And me being me, I’ll always find ways to try to put my friends first, because lets face it, they’re one of the most important things we’ve got.
The second and much more complex reason is because I’ve been going through a bit of internal turmoil stemming from annoyance and aggrivation, two things that, when not let out, have the tendency to REALLY take hold of you in a bad way. Side affects may include gloom and anger, swearing at inanimate objects, punching cardboard boxes. Yes. You will really show them who’s boss, those poor defenseless brown cubes. Though actually this second reason for my inactivity is actually fueling my thought train for a very important third reason for my inactivity.
And that third reason is: It’s time for NANOWRIMO! Yes! In a few short days I will be embarking once again to attempt to write a 50,000 word novel over the course of the Month of November. Meaning I’ll shoot for about 3 hours of solid writing EVERY SINGLE DAY. No days off, no breaks in the three hours. Just pure honest writing. And that writing will be my most blatant attempt to enter the world of Horror. I’ve decided with my character of Arthur Delvalen (the main c from my short “Writing on the Walls”) to not start the story from there, but rather with a first book titled “If I Die Before I Wake” which will tell of the beginning of the creation of the monster we are all soon to know. I couldn’t think of a better time to start this novel than on NANOWRIMO. It will be a trilogy, with IIDBIW being the starting point, probably with glimpses into his childhood and struggles against the evil that’s trying to consume him, “Call Me The Devil” and “The Bloodstained Epiphany” will follow afterwards, sequels into the mind of Arthur Delvalen.
So there you have it! Sadly I will have trouble updating regularly once November 1st hits, but I will do my best. You never know, maybe you’ll get a sneak peak on the inner workings of “If I Die Before I Wake”. Most definately a treat for you, my 2 or 3 random readers! *Not counting the ever-reliable mind-twin Bree! 
My most reliable reader ever!*
I had best sign out for now. I have a world of Target tomorrow and after a late night tonight I am hardly looking forward to my 7-330 shift tomorrow. And yet I trudge on. Such is life and for the time being I must make do with the world of retail as I strive for the unnattainable goal of writing to support myself!
Until we meet again, my friends, I bid you a good day.
On Death
•October 16, 2009 • Leave a CommentWhat follows is a recently completed free-write. I don’t edit during such undertakings so take what errors there are with the understanding that this piece is as I intended it. From the heart and directly from the mind.
“To fear death is to fear the inevtable.”
Truer words have never been spoken. I have, in my short life, been lucky enough to avoid the sting of pain and loss that swiftly accompanies death. But that does not mean that I have not managed to form my own opinion on the subject, after all, I am human. And for those of us who have yet to experience something, we are often allowed to come to our own conclusions and thus is the case with me. I look on death…as the visitor who you’ve always known but are never happy to see. He’s the person you are constantly aware of, the one you never forget. Indeed, he’s the one you are cursed to always remember. You see him in the passing of your beloved pets, even a stranger you never knew, but most importantly you see him every time you lose the ones you love. When you see your greatest friend fall, when you see a brother or sister succumb to their inevitable exit, you know the face and once again you feel the fear.
The fear of death, I think, comes about through one singular emotion. The fear of being alone. Some of you may say that that is obvious, and that they are one and the same. But in reality they are so much different, the latter inevitably leading to the former in a distressing and inescapable dance. Human beings have it ingrained in their nature to fear solitude, for in our greatest desires we want to be held, to be cared about. We want only to have someone by our sides, to catch us when we stumble. And when that person isn’t there, when only a shadow walks by our side, we see our vulnerability at its truest source. We see that emptiness and allow fear to slip its way in. Some have faith to catch them. A faith in something more, a God, that will bolster them against all manners of fear. But such strength is rare and one that cannot be ill-gotten, nor can it be stumbled across or wished for. It is simply there if you have the inner fortitude to believe in it.
Those who do not, those who, like me, have yet to find the strength to embrace such a thing fully, can only strive for the company of those who grace us with their friendship and love on this world. We have our own brand of life-preservers. And they are our truest friends, our beloved family members, the ones whom we would truly be lost without. Perhaps in this reliance we show our greatest weakness, for when we see these loved ones fall, our angels of the earth succumbing to Death’s grasp, we cannot help but feel alone. We see a life in which we have watched them fall, one by one, until we are all that’s left, alone and forgotten in a world that no longer cares. In short, we deceive ourselves. We tell ourselves that death is all there is, that there is no hope for anything else. When in reality we have but to open our eyes and see, truly see, the life before us. Then we know that we have purpose, indeed we always will.
What purpose? It is a question you will ask yourself time and time again, and there is no single answer. For it is in ourselves that we discover how to solve this puzzle and there are many pieces we must sift through before our lives are complete. Our solution, as it always will be, is the world before us. Even at our loneliest there is something right in front of us that could bring light into the darkness; a light that, no matter how small, is sometimes all it takes.
I used to ask myself what point there was in fearing death. After all, what rationale could be involved in the fear of something that from the beginning of our lives we knew was coming? That question used to placeate me, give me a sense of security that was more deluded than anything else. For while it is true, it is also flawed in the way that it can make you forget the most important lesson in life. That being this: “LIVE.” Because if we take death for granted, we begin to take life for granted as well. We run the risk of walking through the years without thinking about the time we waste on pointless fears and pursuits. In perhaps the most confusing peice of this puzzle, it is the fear of death that gives you the chance to feel most alive. And it is that knowledge, the epiphany that death may always be around the corner, that can allow us to never take another day for granted, thus giving us the greatest gift of all.
The gift of knowing how great life truly is.
For while the things we fear can be counted in the thousands, the things that can bring a smile to our faces, the things we love, can be measured in the millions. Whether it be in memories we have made or will make, they’re always there. Whether in the past, present, or future, they stand ready for us to use them in our formation of true happiness. And none of that will be without the realization of death.
Death is among us. Death is with us. It walks side-by-side with every man, woman, and child on this earth. And there can never be any escaping it. When it wants you, it will call you home. When it feels compassion it will let you stay. But know that you are forever at its whimsy, never truly knowing when this life will end and the next will begin. Once we accept that, once we embrace it as an ally rather than a great shadow, a lurking fear, we will find happiness in that acceptance.
In a way, Death could be the one who can walk beside us as friend when all else has fallen. When family and friends have passed, perhaps we can look to our sides and see in our shadows a figment of death and feel the slightest bit of relief in imagining that maybe, just maybe, if there is a place for death to reside there will be someone to welcome home our loved ones as well.
People have said that Death steals from us that which is most important. But I don’t think it does. Perhaps my feelings will change in the years to come and I will become the bitter portrait of loss that I fear most. But I hope I don’t. I want to be able to look back on the past and smile, playing memories that will never die so long as I live. Memories that will forever keep the love of those I miss most beating strongly in my heart.
And in that way Death can never steal anything from me. For while the time for my loved ones to depart may come, the fact that they will never be forgotten will make it seem as though they will forever be with me. They can be the shadow at my side, always there to catch me as I fall. They can be the pillar, bolstering me against the pain of being left behind. Their hearts and mine will forever beat as one.
And I? I will remember their laughs, their smiles, and their lives. I will feel their love pumping through my veins.
And I will know that I will never be alone.
The Dead Letter
•October 11, 2009 • Leave a CommentEvery year, thousands of letters are lost en route to their destination and are never seen by their intended recipients. Whether they are misplaced by the post office or slip through one of the many cracks, the contents of those dead letters were never known. This is one of those letters.
7-19-83
Dear Dad.
It’s been too long since I sat down to write you a letter, and anymore it takes ages for me to even remember what it was we fought about. All I know is that it’s something that I want to put behind us. For years I’ve lived with the anger sitting inside of me, hating you for something that was never your fault. And now all I can think about are the years we’ve wasted and the time that we can never get back.
There’s so much to say that I don’t even know where to start. I’ve run this through my head so many times that you’d think I’d have it memorized by now. But instead it seems only to be the opposite. Things that seemed like they’d be so easy to say can’t come to me so easily anymore. It’s for that reason that I write you now. The hatred and loathing I held against you for so long, it kept me in check, never allowing me to forgive and forget. I’ve heard so much in my life that things will become clear in time, well I’d like to know that for me that time has finally arrived. I don’t know that it has, or if you’ll even read this. God knows I’d understand if you didn’t. Not after the things I’ve said and the things I’ve done. But I hope nonetheless that you can forgive me for my weakness.
It’s taken a long time for me to realize that the things I blamed you for were no more your fault than it was when I blamed you for there being no snow on Christmas morning. I can’t explain my actions or the words I used against you, but I hope that you can understand that deep down the hatred I leashed on you was directed at the situation. It wasn’t just mom who raised me. You were there too and not once did you raise your voice or your hand against me. You were just…there. And I think my greatest sin in life has been taking you for granted. The love you showed towards me and the devotion you put into raising me as best you knew how are things that should be commended, not met with the disgust I showed you after mom’s death.
I can’t believe it’s taken me thirteen years to write this. I wish there was a clock somewhere that would allow me to turn back time, and give me the chance to make the memories that I cheated myself out of. The memories that I cheated both of us out of. Some days, I wish for that more than life itself. But this isn’t a perfect world and I will always live with the mistakes I’ve made. Even to the day I die will I think of the things I should never have said, and the things I should have. Even as you struggled, I only added to a burden which I don’t know how you overcame. Even at your weakest, you showed a strength that I don’t think I will ever attain. I can try and, as you taught me, I will do my best, but in this I will do what I should have done all those years ago. I will follow your lead. And I will give your teachings the merit they deserved rather than the scorn I threw upon them.
Lest I start to ramble, I think it’s time for me to go. I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the things I said and did, for leaving you alone with the burden of mom’s passing. At the time it all made sense. How? I can’t even imagine. All I know is that I love you and I miss you.
And more than anything else in the world, I want you back in my life. I want the opportunity to look into your eyes and tell you these things the way they should be told, face to face. I want to hug you and never let you go. I want to see the joy in your eyes I remember seeing when you used to watch me play on our old swingset every summer for hours at a time. I want to see that happiness rather than the pain I saw when I walked out of your life those many years ago.
Perhaps most of all, I want to tell you that I love you with all my heart. And I want to feel my heart burst when you tell that you feel the same. And indeed, you always have.
Love Always,
Elizabeth
On August 11th, less than a month after this letter was written, Elizabeth Kerwin was killed in a car accident while on her way to pick up her 3 year old daughter from daycare. Spencer Kerwin followed 2 years later, but not before taking in his grandaughter Emily and spending both summers he had with her watching her play on the old rickety swingset that he had never been able to tear down.
Found in Mr. Kerwin’s desk at the time of his death were thirteen letters. All of them addressed to Elizabeth. Not a single one having ever been finished, they sat in the lower right hand drawer, to be saved until the day he told himself he would find the right words. The words he so desperately needed. Instead, all that was written on those pieces of paper were eight words. Eight words he wanted to say so badly. Eight words that would have been more than enough.
Dearest Elizabeth, I will never stop loving you.
And now, perhaps they will find each other in Heaven. And at last they both will know.
