(no subject)
We have returned from our venture down into the bowels of the caves below the Historical Society.
Sadly, we return more or less empty-handed, without revelation; there is no more a way to tunnel out of Silent Hill than there is a way to simply walk along the road and find yourself free.
I expect I shouldn't want to leave altogether too quickly anyway. There's nothing for me back in Los Angeles, and I long ago accepted that England is no longer my home.
All this leaves me in a state of a sort of resigned waiting. It might be almost blissful, were I to allow it to become so. If I was to further describe this 'spirituality', I would say it is rooted somewhat in Tao. Tao is an difficult philosophy to apply to modern existence, in any circumstance, but here a bit moreso. Tao is a philosophy based in and around nomadic solitude. It requires absolute stillness and clarity of mind. This can be done relatively easy in a weakened state, but in the fullness of life problems are again found.
And as we all have learned by now problems are abundant in Silent Hill, and likely as not bound to bite one in the arse if not paid the utmost attention and slain before they can become a menace to one and all.
Silent Hill is a grim place, like in the poem 'The City Of Dreadful Night'. The buildings loom grey and in shadow. Nature creeps in only through cracks, and then only remind to us of our mortality. In this town, fatalism is ruler, and I do not reject it. I believe in no afterlife, no reincarnation, so life is a precious, short-lived thing. We are always conscious that one day we will come to an end and that everything we have ever done, every action or thought, every word or acquisition will mean nothing; yet it does not stop us trying. Death is as important as life. The thought of death crystalises thoughts and emotions just like the weakened state. It is a useful tool for understanding what is truly important to you.
I have spoken of weakness more than once though, yes?
I still struggle with depression. I suppose this mourning will be with me always; Illyria is, needless to say, a constant memento mori, looking as she does like her body's previous owner. But there is more.
Some have said the virus that caused the already twisted nightmare creatures of Silent Hill to mutate and become zombified is in the air, and ever with us. Although the study of germ warfare is hardly one of my areas of expertise, I cannot deny the feelings of my own senses, for they do not lie, and they inform me I have certainly taken ill with something, if not this condition.
So far the symptoms are minor, however they disconcert me all the same. A shortness of breath, a recurrence of chronic headache. A sense of surreality I had once presumed indicative of hangover now tails me even when I am sober, as though all we see or seem is simply a playact to which I am witness. I find myself less and less actually concerned with the dangers I find manifest and am forced to fight, as though I were outside of myself, watching another man fight monsters, with less and less concern for the outcome.
It is perplexing, if naught else.
In our travels through the caving system we caught occasional glimpses of other people, other activity besides the few citizens we were already aware of. It seemed at the time rahter a bit paranoid to entertain the notion we were being shadowed by agencies and authorities who intended our harm, but now I am more assured that such actually is the case. We have confirmed sightings, for example, of activity of a military nature. Supplies we had found, voices overheard.
I also know for certain that Wolfram and Hart have agents employed to the area. A former colleague.. no. I cannot be so coldhearted as to claim him anything less than a friend. Charles Gunn has been sighted. Sadly, I have to report that the man is dead.
And as many of you already know, vampires are no more who they were in life than a demon is a human.
The vampire I saw who was once Charles is in the employ of W&H and has no doubt been sent to retrieve or destroy me. I am, after all, contractually bound to them.
I doubt they would simply allow me to terminate that contract. Not without consequence.
At present we are returning to the club 'Ghoul'; ironically named as it may be, it is still the best place I have found in Silent Hill to reside.
Sadly, we return more or less empty-handed, without revelation; there is no more a way to tunnel out of Silent Hill than there is a way to simply walk along the road and find yourself free.
I expect I shouldn't want to leave altogether too quickly anyway. There's nothing for me back in Los Angeles, and I long ago accepted that England is no longer my home.
All this leaves me in a state of a sort of resigned waiting. It might be almost blissful, were I to allow it to become so. If I was to further describe this 'spirituality', I would say it is rooted somewhat in Tao. Tao is an difficult philosophy to apply to modern existence, in any circumstance, but here a bit moreso. Tao is a philosophy based in and around nomadic solitude. It requires absolute stillness and clarity of mind. This can be done relatively easy in a weakened state, but in the fullness of life problems are again found.
And as we all have learned by now problems are abundant in Silent Hill, and likely as not bound to bite one in the arse if not paid the utmost attention and slain before they can become a menace to one and all.
Silent Hill is a grim place, like in the poem 'The City Of Dreadful Night'. The buildings loom grey and in shadow. Nature creeps in only through cracks, and then only remind to us of our mortality. In this town, fatalism is ruler, and I do not reject it. I believe in no afterlife, no reincarnation, so life is a precious, short-lived thing. We are always conscious that one day we will come to an end and that everything we have ever done, every action or thought, every word or acquisition will mean nothing; yet it does not stop us trying. Death is as important as life. The thought of death crystalises thoughts and emotions just like the weakened state. It is a useful tool for understanding what is truly important to you.
I have spoken of weakness more than once though, yes?
I still struggle with depression. I suppose this mourning will be with me always; Illyria is, needless to say, a constant memento mori, looking as she does like her body's previous owner. But there is more.
Some have said the virus that caused the already twisted nightmare creatures of Silent Hill to mutate and become zombified is in the air, and ever with us. Although the study of germ warfare is hardly one of my areas of expertise, I cannot deny the feelings of my own senses, for they do not lie, and they inform me I have certainly taken ill with something, if not this condition.
So far the symptoms are minor, however they disconcert me all the same. A shortness of breath, a recurrence of chronic headache. A sense of surreality I had once presumed indicative of hangover now tails me even when I am sober, as though all we see or seem is simply a playact to which I am witness. I find myself less and less actually concerned with the dangers I find manifest and am forced to fight, as though I were outside of myself, watching another man fight monsters, with less and less concern for the outcome.
It is perplexing, if naught else.
In our travels through the caving system we caught occasional glimpses of other people, other activity besides the few citizens we were already aware of. It seemed at the time rahter a bit paranoid to entertain the notion we were being shadowed by agencies and authorities who intended our harm, but now I am more assured that such actually is the case. We have confirmed sightings, for example, of activity of a military nature. Supplies we had found, voices overheard.
I also know for certain that Wolfram and Hart have agents employed to the area. A former colleague.. no. I cannot be so coldhearted as to claim him anything less than a friend. Charles Gunn has been sighted. Sadly, I have to report that the man is dead.
And as many of you already know, vampires are no more who they were in life than a demon is a human.
The vampire I saw who was once Charles is in the employ of W&H and has no doubt been sent to retrieve or destroy me. I am, after all, contractually bound to them.
I doubt they would simply allow me to terminate that contract. Not without consequence.
At present we are returning to the club 'Ghoul'; ironically named as it may be, it is still the best place I have found in Silent Hill to reside.