The Library

Hello again.

Crikey, its as cold as nun's nipple out there today.

I dearly hope my grotesque, misshapen form hovering around the woodshed did not still the blood of some unfortunate trespasser! That would constitute an extremity of mental punishment beyond the most Lovecraftian of imaginations.

Its bye the bye for now, the fire is lit and the Nordic spirits are being licked into life in the blood red flame of the old hearth. Ancient companions to an ancient but still pumping heart - for now.

I will of course, hopefully, be joining them in Valhalla when the fates...eer decide my fate. I sincerely hope to ride off into a burnt citrus sunset at the time of immolation, to ride with the Valkyries, Wagner hammering the clouds.

I suspect a generic MDF coffin clattering over industrial rollers, while being bathed in the cyan glow of the great gas god 'Sid' will be somewhat more likely or inevitable however.

Oh yes...the great library.

'Great' is probably somewhat an extension of the truth.

Beautiful oak paneled redoubt of unmentionable age, the library to me, is a representation of my spirit in the physical world. Its many strange and esoteric books, its mechanical contraptions, bottled oddities, taxidermied treasures and beautiful paintings, gasp for air and personal space in this animistic eco-system,
The library is 'alive' in the truest sense of the word.

Forgive me, but I must leave you now, the hammering has begun again....