Random thoughts, and a little story.

No one likes to find out  that everything they've ever been told may have been a half-truth or a complete lie. It was like that for me, but much earlier on in life. I wasn't able to "go back to sleep". And from that fateful day, it's been one wild ride.


In recent months, dear reader, I've been quiet. It's not due to anything other than I've been brow-deep in It. Don't ask what "It" is. Doing so will either drive you mad, or get you dead. Never ask questions. There's no point in questions anymore. The answer to almost all of them is an emphatic "yes". That wasn't your imagination, there really is something there in the corners of your room. But knowing all is true isn't just enough. Not by a long shot.


So there was a huge part of last year I was in exile. It's an interesting place to be. Not sure if friends are enemies, and if your enemies can be used as friends. It forces you to use everything you've ever learned in your life that weighs anything. I was pushed to my limits, and found they weren't limits at all, but fucking spiky and razor sharp hurdles in a really fucked up race. I still have my smooth and supple thighs, just so you know. A few scars, but those are inside.


While in exile, I met some interesting people, and saw some interesting things. Did you know that the slums of Brazil is a hotbed for, not only a refuse of society, but also the host? Yup, being not of this Earth live in the gutters, some just as poor and downtrodden as the kids who play soccer with a ball made of rubber-bands.


On the other hand, some seem to proliferate in that situation. Like Miska Sievalth, who works as an assassin for various Bratva groups that setup in Brazil. She's not really Russian at all, not that they would care, she's a beast. They don't know that she's really a blood descendant of Mictecacihuatl, who was some old Aztec god of the underworld. Miska's old, like 320 years old, but she looks 30. I still think it's her diet and workout routine. They age slower, these "demi-gods". There's math in there somewhere, I guess like 10x slower than us.


Anyways, she's real buddy buddy with me, ever since I saved her ass from a very large group of thugs. She may have the genes of a deity in her blood, but she makes mistakes like the rest of us. Ends up, her mark wasn't what she was told, and had lots of friends in the bar. Extraction is my game, so getting her out was a snap, except for the 1/2 mile dash through slummy side streets and into the hills. I helped her out a few days later, cleaning up the mess; she got her mark. And she had me accompany her on her collection, where she got to again "get her mark". You don't fuck with being of a higher plane, even if they only have one foot in.


Anyways, I wonder. Debt. It's not just for money. It's for favors. I have my own White Book; my book of debts. Who owes me, and who thinks I owe them. I never really do, but when they think that I do, well, I like to write a little "lol" next to their name.