The significance of National Day celebrations

Greetings Council of the Shit,

You mothers must be wallowing in a whirlpool of shit to use the BOP to find me – let me just try out my ESP skills, all of you are in the boardroom right now Vollariane, Memphisto and probably 20 of the best fund managers in Singapore trying to figure out how you’re going to balance the accounts – the lady of lake has finally decided to cash in her chips (oh dear, we don’t have the liquidity – the bank of England has finally run out of money!)

You know what? A few years ago when Cerebus asked me how I would propose to organize the financial profile to deal with the guilds, I actually said to him that I would keep it so simple that even an idiot would be able to manage the slush fund. When he asked why, I said because I believe eventually a committee of brainless idiots would end up managing it. I was joking of course, but I didn’t expect him to take it so seriously.

Now what are you mothers going to do? The lady of the lake and her financial Rotweillers want to cash out! She’s serious this time, she wants it all and you chaps don’t have the chips do you? Otherwise why invoke our ancient ritual of the metaphor of filling the cup? It can only be done once and only once – You are right, under our code – I cannot refuse another brother, it’s written our waters are mixed forever.

I know what some of you are doing right now – you’re looking down, trying to even avoid eye contact, some even searching for a spot on the wall – each comforting yourself with that, “it wasn’t my fault, I didn’t calculate the fall out of shutting down the BP! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” The short answer is you should have and the reason why you didn’t is because all of you have shit for brains!

I want you understand: this is perhaps the most important mail you will ever read in the next 10 years of your life only because this time tomorrow, the brotherhood may not even exist in the virtual any longer!

By now even the best of our financial scholars would have calculated the cost of raising the sum demanded by the lady of the lake and her associates is impossible under such short notice! Even the finest in our Guilds would have calculated you have as much chance as raising that sum as a tornado tearing through a junkyard and somehow magically assembling a fully functional space shuttle! Get real you are deep shit – neck deep in it- with not only the guilds, but the allies, metal and mineral exchange and probably a thousand other virtual financial entities!

What happened here gentlemen? Where did you fuck up? How did it go so wrong? All we did was disband the FC boys and put darkness in cold storage, we all know he’s just famous for his Byzantine sulks and nothing else in the greater scheme of things – a minor cog in the machine that aspired to change the world.

Why didn’t these turn of events feature in the calculations of even our best scholars? What if I told you none of these ladies are even seeking for justice? Or for that matter revenge – what if I said, I am not even in the equation and even less of them see this enterprise as a crusade between right and wrong. And even if it did, it has little to do with the whole idea of validation and even less with the ideal of redemption, let alone the exoneration of a man who was once known as darkness!

Why are they all mounting a financial vote of no confidence now? Why are they prepared to cut their own noses to spite all of you? What’s happening here?

If you want me to fill the cup, you all need to sit down shut the fuck up and listen to what I have to say and understand the anatomy of what I call the age of the empire of the bones. All of you were its framers – the inexorable financial collapse of the brotherhood will happen – because this time, tomorrow that is all the brotherhood will be in the virtual another Enron, that’s how serious it is this time – it’s the eleventh hour – the specter of doom and gloom hangs over the horizon.

Did you ever believe for even a second, you could just pull the plug by dismantling everything I have built SLF’s etc and packing it off somewhere in some obscure warehouse without causing a revolution of mythical proportions.

Let me share with you the truth which I have always known deep down in my heart. No one ever admits they read the BP. They don’t like to admit that they do, because it’s like masturbation – one of those illicit thrills that’s woven on the reverse side of the fabric of consciousness – doesn’t mean, its not happening even next door at this very moment, it just means you’re not aware of it. What happens when you take that sense of ‘being’ into an imaginary world gentlemen where you just have to say to yourself, “Oh my God, I feel he is just like me – there are other people like me and he is verbalizing every hemisphere of my emotions!” That world then, is a world you can’t share with the people around you – like the venereal disease it’s a condition that requires all the pretenses but it hardly precludes the need for a backdoor as any decent skin doctor would testify too. Because it’s imaginary, And so the most important dialogue in your life is with the authors of the books you read – yes people like me, who even write sappy, trite and toe curling love stories. Though they aren’t present, they become one’s only community. A mirror even which allows them to draw the distinction between their real pain and their realization they are as flawed as me – you have no idea how appealing this ideal of the flawed classical nerd is to many of those who you have inadvertently angered – by shutting down the BP, you have denied them all a release from their gnawing, almost remorseful need to seek out the incongruities in their own life to even begin to make sense of how they really are – you have cast them, to that place where their sense of isolation and estrangement that separates the real from the imaginary is so frightening, it aggravates their need for reclusion, which they derive so much of their strength that makes an unbearable life bearable. Are you listening to me?

I am not a great writer not by any stretch of the imagination, but I wrote honestly from the very depths of my heart – when I use the your “I” it isn’t so much the “I” as it the “you” in its most personal sense that even goes beyond its dictionary meaning – to even feel as if when they were just reading about this or that hero and all his trials and tribulations all they were really doing was looking straight into the mirror of life that reflected their own pain within the depths of their soul – you didn’t shut down the BP, you took away their world! Somewhere in the accidental description of hero in one of my novels, in even the full glory of lousy spelling and mangled sentences was their confirmation of the description they called the “truth.”: simply not to be misunderstood, to try and fail, to fall and bleed: all these revealed themselves starkes, suddenly in contained even a sharp sense of exhilaration that validated their existence.

In short gentlemen you took away their world! Shattered it even, what I call the voice of their “reaffirming unanimity.” And so they will destroy you, they will see you to the ends of their world and plunge you to the very place where there can only be silence. This my friends is how the framers of the empire of bones set the machinery of self-destruction into action – its inexorable – the brotherhood is finished!

What you all fail to understand is you messed with something that was even bigger than all of us put together – in one simple curtain dropping act of shutting down the BP, you didn’t so much end our the world of the FC Boys or Inspirid, but rather snuffed out at some point the comfort, joy and privacy that allows every reader to be seen and understood.

At that moment, when you snuffed out their world, even one that is neither as big as a statistical significant nor as small as the naked self – a world so small, it could be said, there are only just two people, the faithful writer and the trusting reader. We may be different, never ever seeing each other for years even, walking away from each others path, but never ever doubt, we are were and still one of the same reality – that is why they will kill you all!

Now to the question: of our ancient code – will I fill your cup brothers? Yes. Will it be clear and sweet? Yes. As a brother, I shall keep to all the covenants which once bound us as a fraternity never ever breaking a word once.

(1) First thing first. This is what I want to be done at 0940 GMT @ 080-034-099 / A Tribellium Class cruiser will be hold geo static orbit around the Acadian system – I want the council to float 3 pods each using Amoridian robotic capsules – if I see a battle cruiser any where the deal is off – containing 130,000,000 Imperiums in each pod / small notes each not exceeding 40 shekels – keep the transaction clean, we will all be there Atomic Monkey, Harphoon, AB, SB and even the girl Aurora – we are cashing out of the brotherhood. You have my word. You will never hear from us again. I care even less of what happens to the brotherhood. I have decided its time to start my life.

(2) Once I receive this e-money this is what I will do, I will visit the lady of the lake and persuade her to extend the instruments channels for a period of two years – you all know my word is good and you all know I can do it – I do not want anyone to interfere with this matter, it will be conducted privately according to my own schedule. You all know I can do this – call it what you want seduction, manipulation or just that I am a good to boot woman user, I really don’t give a flying fuck – judge me even if you wish too, but she will agree only because of this which I once wrote:

“That evening as I looked at the third wife, it seemed as if the sun had broken through the clouds, it may have been a mere illusion on my part. Yet the entire composition of the scene, the soft murmur of gambling chips being thrown on green felt, the sound of a single ivory ball bouncing on the roulette wheel all these slowly coalesced into a solitary image – the face of the third wife.
How I long to tell a story that differs from the one I am telling! You have no idea, how hard I have tried to change it, yet the same face reappears only to find myself trapped, stretched bare on a pelt rack crushed by the intensity of the moment.
Here one has no choice but to, perform the same actions, think the same thoughts and go through the same litany. You may think you could have said and done differently to alter the direction of this story, but trust me my friend just as some flowers have no choice but to radiate their beauty and others their ugliness, you don’t have any thing close to a “choice” – even birds know this when they gather along telegraph lines on a cold September morning sensing the encroaching winter creep up on them – they step right out of the “I” take up their place in a formation along side other nameless and faceless birds to fly off to warmer lands – they assume their faceless role without too much fuss, no one expects them to say “sorry”, “how do you do?” or even care to ask, “where you’re from.” – “or where you’re flying too?” – they know something you and I don’t.
So please don’t think my tale circular; in truth, it has no shape or direction. This happens when a man finds the outer world slipping away from his inner world. That night as I looked on at the third wife, the “I” had somehow slid out of my body put on a pair of trainers and taken off full speed towards some dark alley, leaving only a man who shuffled his chips absentmindedly wondering:
“How long had I wandered, how had I come to where I am?”
It wasn’t the reality you, he or they are accustomed too, it’s the variety where the “I” was bolted off, the type that leads you to do and say the things that you wouldn’t normally do.
That night as I followed the figure of the third wife – who writhed sinuously extenuating the roundness of her hips and narrowness of her waist with every step she took. I followed her without saying a word down the sweeping stairways, through the smoke filled lobby into the dimly lit streets of London towards the Arab section just off China town and into a rented room resplendent with shimmering Turkish mosaics of a crystalline texture – I remembered the third wife naked, her milky white skin framed against purple silk sheets and the wan of the yellow street lamps filtering Moorish patterned shadows on her skin – beads of sweat at the forehead edge of her jet black hair, and in her dark triangle, on her eyelashes – while her liquid brown eyes looked on as if she cared only for tonight as if even she had the power to stop time it’self – perhaps she could, I remembered saying to myself.
Like the many birds of this world who simply know, it is time to leave before crushing cold of winter sets in and takes off into the darkness through the sky and beyond, into the endless night, it scarcely mattered where she was leading me too, even why or whether it was right.
That night as the “I” ran out of me into the night, I was no longer Yu Huan Guan the Singaporean gangster in London – or the benefactor who carries the money for the four houses – I was merely a cold and solitary soul, lost in the distant constellation I could no longer see as I sensed her words to me that night.
“Come, my beloved, let us remain here on the fluted damask and enameled tiles of our bedchamber and shut out the world, let us linger on the carved wooden filigrees and arabesques that decorate it’s many door and shutters. Here tonight, we have a place we can call our world in the world. Come, my beloved. And in the eternity of this moment, the only that has ever existed, we shall never know the fate of the storyteller, the outcome of the story, or the difference between the two. This will be our chapter.”
I had been magically transformed into a mythical bird – I was Garuda.
darkness 2002”

You see it wasn’t just a story, now you know why she is so angry – the lady of the lake is the third wife.

Now all I really have to do is to allow life to mirror art? Do I even have a choice? It’s already written.

Let me go in peace, I want to marry, start a family and turn the wheel of life.

I am darkness (2007)

NB: Aaron please close this thread please and thank you for your hospitality, it will all end here it is the end of an age and even you must play your part – darkness 2007