Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Fucked up dreams last night. I was walking down a long corridor filled with light, like maybe a glass vestibule. I couldn't really tell. As I was walking, the corridor came to an abrupt end at a brick wall. Centered on the wall was a giant mirror. Peering into the mirror I couldn't see my reflection at first, only the passageway I had come from. Slowly my reflection began to appear, but it wasn't me. It was the well dressed man from the train. Being taken aback by this I started to wave my hand and watched the reflection follow it. Suddenly the man's arms protruded from the mirror and proceeded to choke me. I struggled and fought with all my might but I couldn't break his grip. His eyes burned at me with a hatred like I've never seen. I finally woke up covered in a sheen of sweat and the lamp from the nightstand was in pieces on the floor. I've been awake and chain smoking since 2:00 this morning.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Body Cont - 3

Feeling bad this morning. Had to go to a company social function. Some kind of "ply the clients with drinks until they're stupid enough to fall for this shit" dinner. The details of the evening are a little fuzzy. I kept hearing Dad's voice over and over again "Mind your company manners, boy". I think I had a steak. Kind of ironic being surrounded by cattle. One of them from the accounting department tried to chat me up. I think I maintained my "human mask" well enough. I didn't scare it away, but I remember it picking up on the fact that I'm not all together "chatty". The Corporate Muppet flapped it's head about some nonsense or other. It's slurred droning was even more incoherent than normal. I don't think the idiot clientele were put off by that or even noticed it in their own drunken stupor. After what seemed like an eternity, I excused myself and hastily made my way to the door. One of the cattle said something about a lunch meeting today as I was passing. I made some non-committal response and continued my exodus. The wave of city air washed over my senses like a tidal wave. The stench is returning to the air. I've been so occupied with my trophies these past few days that I hadn't noticed. Making my way to the train station, I almost choked on the putridity. Thankfully I was able to board a train rather quickly and to my good fortune the car was mostly empty. A few students and some assorted cattle. One of them caught my eye, and obvious prostitute. She was relatively new on the scene. No visible scars or track marks. She didn't have the doe eyed naive look about her, but she still had a sparkle of false hope in her eyes. She looked around the car to see if anyone was checking her out. She glimpsed me watching and gave a small smile. She made her way over to me and struck up a conversation. And like all things, it boiled down to time and money. I had the money so she had the time. She said the next stop was hers and she had a little out of the way place we could go. I agreed and we hopped off at Union, near the West End. We walked for a few blocks down the mostly deserted street. The area had been a booming industrial area at one point, but it's now mostly home to the dregs of society. She brought me to an alley situated between a Chinese restaurant and an abandoned lawn mower factory. She said it was a quiet place where we could be outside and see the stars. Really what she meant was it's a place outside where I can scream for help and potentially get away from a would-be killer. We discussed price for a few minutes and then she got on her knees and began to caress my thighs. As she reached for my crotch and began undoing my zipper, she looked up at me and gave a wicked smile. I returned the smile and placed my left hand over her mouth and my right behind her neck and thrust forward toward the brick of the restaurant. Her head exploded in magnificent crimson. I pulled her to the ground and continued to bash her skull against the cool asphalt. Her eyes quickly glazed over and rolled to the back of her head. When I finally stopped her cranium was a mass of bloody chunks and blond hair. I gave a quick glance around to see if my actions had startled any of the cattle. I spied the restaurants dumpster at the end of the alley. I grabbed the girl's corpse and heaved her in. Taking an assessment of my appearance, I noted my dinner jacket was covered in her blood. I checked all the pockets for any identifying materials and then threw it in the dumpster. My pants were a little messy but not bad, easily worked with. A little searching through the dumpster yielded a few half empty bottles of beer. Grabbing my Zippo from front pocket and some paper from the dumpster for kindling, I started a fire. Once I had a good flame going I tossed it in and watched for a few minutes to make sure the rest of the contents started to catch. Nothing like a grease fire. I poured the beer on myself and untucked and unbuttoned my shirt so anyone noticing my appearance would chalk it up to me being a drunk. Satisfied with my handiwork, I made my way towards the train station with a slight stagger. On the ride back to my side of town I reflected on what transpired. I'm not really sure why I killed her. It was a stupid thing to do. I was fortunate her choice of venue afforded me the opportunity to easily cover up my mistake. Perhaps wearing my "human mask" for too long took it's toll on me.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Caught a glimpse of the news in between pointless Monday production meetings. They've released the identity of the girl. They also released some of the details about her murder. Curiously, they omitted certain key facts about her death, in particular her missing eyes. Probably some sort of filter to screen out the cattle that want to call in and take credit for my work. Let them have it. The glory is not in accolades or recognition, but in the work itself.
Something odd on this morning's train ride. As usual I was surrounded by the cattle, watching them from behind my "human mask". They stare blankly with the defeated look of caged animals. Their incessant prattling about their insipid weekend or their contempt and loathing for their occupation. Some numbing their senses with portable electronic devices, oblivious to their surroundings. While observing these despicable creatures, something caught my eye. I noticed a man on the far end of the train seated on the bench opposite me. He was a well groomed and dressed man, surely someone of means and breeding. His graying hair and deep lined face gave the impression of being in his late forties to early fifties. What piqued my interest in this man were his eyes. It wasn't their appearance, but what was behind them. He was looking at the cattle around him with same contempt and hatred that I do. He also seemed to be cloaked in a "human mask". He appearance cordial to the casual glance, but someone a little more astute could see that it's a facade. After a few minutes of observation we locked eyes for a few seconds. It was very odd. It was almost like looking in a mirror. Feeling slightly uncomfortable I quickly looked away, keeping my eyes diverted from him until we reached the next stop. He hurriedly sprang from his seat and made his way to the doors, glancing back at me briefly as the doors opened. He pushed his way through the crowd and disappeared from view. I find it hard to believe that was even his stop. It was in part of the low rent district of the city. Very strange.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Had to go and mingle amongst the cattle today. Try as I might to procure all my provisions via internet, sometimes I am forced to be amongst them to obtain necessary items. It is during these times I find it most difficult to maintain my "human mask". Watching them herded together, purchasing vast wasteful quantities of things they don't and will never use. Fighting over the last trinket on the shelf is the only semblance of a hunter-gather mentality left. It's sickening to watch them.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Aftermath - 2

Television woke me up this morning. Must have fallen asleep with it on. It would seem they found the girl quicker than I anticipated. I didn't think she would be found until after the weekend. Here's a quick excerpt:

"Details are still sketchy at the moment, but late last night a 911 call was placed from this home in the 3400 block of Amanda reporting a murder. We have heard unconfirmed reports that the victim is a female student from the university. Police have declined to make an official comment at this time or release the name of the victim until families can be notified. They are asking that anyone with any information regarding this incident to please contact them at..."

You have to love the news media. They go off half cocked and start reporting grisly stories before they have any real concrete information. All they do is drive the cattle into a depserate, panic stricken fear. Then they'll rerun the story until the cattle become so numb to it that they don't even remember being concerned for their own well being.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Left work early this afternoon. It's such a beautiful spring day. No rain, vivid colors in bloom and that sweet fresh air. If I hadn't been in such a hurry to get home I may have gone to the park to partake in its majesty. But my trophies are too precious to go unattended. They were in my workshop just as I left them, carefully preserved in a formaldehyde solution. They still gleam with such a fierce intensity, a blue that could only be made by nature. None of the cattle have the passion to make something so pure. I sat and gazed at them for what seemed an eternity, trying to reach the state of euphoria I felt when I claimed them. I never quite reached that plateau, but it was more than enough to drive me to a physical frenzy. I imagined the scalpel caressing the girls body, drawing blood in it's wake. The steeliness of her eyes fixed at me with such fear. I climaxed with such intensity and ferocity at the thought that it was like my first time.
Long day yesterday. Workload from the Corporate Muppet kept me at the office for far longer than I should have been. Thinking about the prior evenings events and my prized trophies made the day go on all that much longer. By the time I caught the train home I was too exhausted to dedicate the time to the eyes that they deserve. Perhaps this weekend will afford me the time. But for now I must slip on my "human mask" and blend in with the cattle. At least I can enjoy the sweetness in the air again. It's almost like fresh basil.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Body Count - 2

Feeling exhilarated today. I spent a lovely evening with the girl last night. I got to her house around 6:00 and took up a position slightly down and across from her front door. The sun was beginning to set so it was easier to blend into the heavily vegetated landscaping of the neighborhood. I couldn't discern any movement inside the house, but I knew she was home. I could hear the sound of jazz, Louis Armstrong I believe, emanating from inside. It was probably one of the records she picked up the night before. The music was very intoxicating. Its lulled me into a trance, enveloping me. I can see why she liked it. The cold hardness of my tools inside my jacket brought me back to reality, brought me back to my purpose. I intently returned to watching the house. I saw a few light turn on inside as the dying day gave in completely to night. Houses always seem to take on a vacant stare when illuminated with artificial light, like a pumpkin at Halloween. Sometime after 7:00 the front door opened and she emerged, dressed for a night on the town it would seem. Her auburn hair was up and she had large dangling earrings that framed her face. I couldn't tell what she was wearing at the time. She had on an overcoat to ward off the still cool spring air. She made her way through the front yard and turned towards the Loop, probably heading to the train station. I watched her as she elegantly sauntered down the street in some sort of heeled shoe. When she was clearly out of sight I decided it was time to go inside and prepare for her return. I quickly made my way around to the back of the house and was greeted by a backdoor that looked like it was original. Dense foliage provided great cover while I worked on making my way in. The archaic lock was easily opened opened in a few short minutes. There's nothing like the thrill of entering the empty abode of someone else. The foreign odors rush into you as your brain tries to discern them. Your eyes are bombarded by an array of sights familiar yet alien at the same time. Looking around I discovered many things about the girl. She was a medical student at the university. She was a very organized person - a place for everything and everything in it's place. Dishes and flatware were perfectly stacked and color coded in the kitchen. The bathrooms were sterilized and pristine. No clutter in the living room. The spare bedroom was adorned with pictures of what I would assume is her family and her childhood. Even at a young age she had those fierce blue eyes, magnificent in their steeliness. Eventually I made my way to the most coveted area of the house - her bedroom. The room like the rest of the house was immaculately kept. A few more pictures of family members hanging on the walls. A small writing desk in the corner holding a laptop and a few neatly stacked textbooks. Her canopied bed held a small litter of stuffed animals, probably the last vestiges of childhood she couldn't bring herself to part with. The closet was filled with neatly hung close and organized shoes. A few pieces of sporting equipment tucked in the corner. After immersing myself in her life for a few hours, it was time to go to work. The bedroom seemed the like the ideal place. I removed my tools from my jacket and delicately placed them on the nightstand. I filled the syringe with paralytic and sprayed out the air bubbles. Everything seemed in order. Now all I had to do was wait. Being that I spent a good deal of time exploring her dwelling it was a short wait. I heard a key turn in the tumbler downstairs. I took up position behind her bedroom door and waited for her. The few minutes it took her to come upstairs seemed to take an eternity. When she entered the room I sprang for before she had a chance to turn on the lights. In my excitement I knocked her back more than I intended to. Luckily from her shock and the force of the impact I was able to pounce on her before she could make more than a gasping sound. Quickly covering her mouth, I injected the paralytic into her jugular vein. The vein was protruding prominently from her raising heart making it easy for me. I stared into her eyes while the paralytic took full effect. Her steely eyes glared at me with a mixture of burning hatred and fear. Once the paralysis was complete I scooped her up and laid her on the bed. It was then I noticed her attire for her evening out. It was a short, blue cocktail dress. On the shoulder was a sticker that "Hi, my name is Anne". The remnant of some horrible social function. Reaching for my tools on the nightstand I pulled out a pair of shears to cut off the dress. She didn't need it any longer. To my surprise and delight she was naked underneath. That made things so much simpler. I put the shears away and drew one of my scalpels. I hate not being able to hold them directly in my hand, feeling their precision engineering as I work. Unfortunately, wearing gloves is a necessity when working away from home. The first incision was directly below her throat and I continued it down to her pelvis, a nice bisecting line. My next two cuts spread from the top of the first to each palm, making deep slices in the veins on the way down. The blood poured out of her "T" wound in copious amounts. It really was a beautiful sight. As the life drained from her frozen body the fire of hatred still burned in those magnificent eyes. I decided to I had to have them. I was a little apprehensive at first, having never done it before. I was sure that I would nick one of those delicate eyes and ruin it. But I steadied my hand and made the first incision just below the top of her eye socket. I then traced around the outline of the eyeball. There was more blood flow than I expected. I had to clean the area with a corner of her dress. The hard part was extracting the eye. I wasn't really sure of how to go about it. Finally I resolved to slide the scalpel in the side of the eye pop it out from behind. It was actually easier than I thought. Just had to sever a few nerve endings. The second eye followed easily and her heart stopped beating shortly after. The thrill of seeing her dead body was utter joy. For a few blissful minutes everything became pure and clear. It was truly a spiritual moment. Following my indulgence in the serenity of the kill I quickly gathered my tools and my trophies. I found a plastic bag in her kitchen to store the eyes in for the journey home. I checked myself in her hall mirror for blood on my body and clothing. Some spots on my face and neck that were easily washable. The minimal amount on my black clothing faded into obscure, nondescript stains. A quick look around for anything I had missed and then I was out the backdoor. I carefully crept out of the backyard and made my way down the street toward the Loop. The area wasn't very busy at the time of night, but there were still enough cattle floating around that I could pass through in anonymity. I was able to catch a train within 5 minutes of entering the platform. I slipped into a seat and enjoyed the ride home. I even bantered a little with the old man seated across from me who was of the mind that the area has gone to hell over the years. Arriving home just past midnight I diligently cleaned my tools and destroyed my clothing. I placed my trophies in my workshop to be enjoyed at a later time.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010


Couldn't sleep again last night. I took the train to the Loop around 10:00. The local university keeps the Loop full of cattle until well into the night. Young drunkards and hipsters spewing forth their trivial knowledge and existential views. Mindless creatures too wrapped up in expressing their individuality to realize that they are surrounded by clones, all sporting the same tattoos, piercings and t-shirts. They have no concept of the true rebellion that spawned those mall bought ornaments they so proudly display. Running through that crowd with a chainsaw would be a gift to society.

After blindly making my way through the masses on the streets I found myself at a little record store, possibly one of the few left in existence. It had one of those horrible, cutesy alliterative names that escapes me. Upon entering I was bombarded with some kind of screeching, dissonant audio. The kind of music that only the pretentious cattle can appreciate, taking pride in being a fan before the band "sold out". Despite the sonic assault I started digging through some of their used CDs and came across a much beloved album - NOLA from Down. It was a favorite of mine in my youth. So much passion and anger. I was making my way to the register with my find when I saw her. She was rummaging through some vinyl in the corner, pulling the occasional album out to peruse its condition. I hastily paid for my disc and made my way out the door. I took up a position across the street to watch her leave. About 20 minutes later my persistence paid off. She exited with a bag in her left hand, apparently having found some acceptable vinyl. She headed west on the street away from the chaos of the Loop. I took up pursuit after she had put some distance between us. I maintained the distance and stuck to the shadows in case she became aware of me. To my good fortune she never did. Our journey ended about three blocks away from the record store. She entered a large, Colonial style house, left over from a time before the area was ravaged by the university cattle. There were no lights on when she entered, nor was she greeted by anyone. I surmise that she lives alone. Now that I know where she is I can drop by, maybe this evening.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Walked through the park on the way home. Empty. The rain keeps the cattle at bay. I sat on her bench for awhile staring at the river. It gurgled and bubbled with false life. I noticed something strange about it - I couldn't see my reflection in it. It was almost like I didn't exist.
Didn't sleep much last night. Spent several hours in my workshop reconditioning my neglected tools. Sharpening, adjusting and honing every minute detail, making them perfect again. When I was finally content with their status I laid down and fell into a fitful sleep. I had the dream about Dad again, though it was different this time. The man from the train platform was there. He was in the water with Dad, holding him down. Dad kicked and struggled for a few short minutes and then fell still with death. The man released his corpse and stared at me for a few seconds. He turned and pointed to my left. The girl was there on the bench. She was looking up from her book, watching the murder in the river. She was talking but the words coming out didn't make any sense. They weren't actually words, more like a churning, humming sound. She turned and noticed me watching her. More "words" came in a louder voice. Her eyes began to change, turning hollow and black. The man in the river yelled to me "She knows!" I woke with a start after that and was unable to fall asleep again.

Now I'm slipping on my "human mask" and headed to work. There's a report due today or was it yesterday? So many things starting to running together lately.

Monday, March 22, 2010

A miserable day. The rains returned with a vengeance. The air is suffocating and stagnant. She won't be at the park. I must bide my time. Perhaps spend some time in my workshop, reacquaint myself with my tools. They've been neglected for far too long. Ignored by my day to day grind with the cattle, becoming dull and dormant. It will feel good to hold their steely weight in my hands again.

The Happy Hunting Ground

Spent the entire day at the park yesterday. Walked around aimlessly, wandering through the cattle that had come out of hiding since the rains have stopped. So many faces to hate with their plastered expressions and false smiles. As I realized the air is beginning to take on a metallic taste again a thought occurred to me - it's the cattle, not the city that taints the air. A great purging and purification is needed to bring balance to nature.

Near sunset I spied the girl sitting on a bench near an empty soccer field, engrossed in a book. She didn't appear to be cognizant, or at least concerned of her surroundings. I watched her radiate as the fading sun illuminated her auburn hair. When the light became too dim to continue reading, she packed up and headed for the exit. I followed her from afar completely transfixed. Our cat and mouse journey took us to the Ginger Street station. The cramped confines and being surrounded by the cattle were detrimental to my pursuit, but I was able to push through and board the same southbound train. I stood as at the end of the crowded car continuing to record her every movement. She had delved back into her novel and was again completely oblivious to her surroundings. When the conductor announced the Norburn stop she reluctantly withdrew from her story and prepared to depart. I casually stepped closer to one of the sliding doors, seething with anticipation. The car came to a stop and the doors slid open. I was confronted with a horde of cattle, too ignorant to follow the simple instructions of "wait for passengers to de-board before entering car." Apparently there are too many syllables to comprehend. By the time I got through them, the girl was nowhere to be found. I walked around The Loop area well into the night, but never found a trace of her. Dejected, I found my way back to the train and rode home in bitter contemplation.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

An entire internet worth of pornography and nothing I find stimulating. I've been searching through the most perverse and vile offerings of the human mind and nothing elicits a response. Group sex, big tits, hardcore, torture, S&M, beastiality, mutilation - nothing. I do, however, find myself thinking of the girl from the park. I imagine the sweetness of her breath and the scent of her hair, exploring and knowing her flesh.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Bit of Deja Vu this afternoon. The rain broke for a while so I went for a little stroll. I found myself at a small park not far from here. I've passed it many times, but never given it much thought. Walking in further, I noticed a small river towards the back by the a line of redwoods. The river is the same as the one in my dream about Dad. Even the bench was there, but there was a girl seated on it. It was reading a book and enjoying the break in weather. It had long auburn hair and blue eyes and was dressed to show it's best feminine assets. It had a ring on it's left hand but did not seem to be accompanied by it's mate. One wonders if it is in search of alternate companionship.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Had to take a cab home this evening. The Chestnut station is still being investigated. I walked past it after leaving the office. It was crawling with cops. The place looked like they were giving away free donuts and hookers. The Transit authority is "reviewing their safety procedures and going to take extra precautions to make sure a tragedy like this doesn't happen again". I feel safer already.

The Aftermath

No dreams last night. Actually, I slept better than I have in years. I checked the news to see if there was any mention of the platform incident. Here's what I found:

"Douglas Gano, a 47 year old stock analyst from The Heights area, met with what appears to be an unfortunate accident at the Chestnut Street station yesterday evening. Mr. Gano was struck by an inbound train after falling from a platform. Onlookers report that he was heavily involved in a conversation on his mobile phone and didn't realize his proximity to the edge of the platform. Police are reviewing security footage and interviewing witnesses to get a better understanding of exactly what transpired. Transit officials have made no official comments as of yet."

It would appear that karma has found the stock analyst.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Body Count - 1

I pushed a man this evening. He shoved his way through the other cattle on the platform, all the while flapping his lips incessantly on his phone. He ended up standing next to me at the edge. His voice was like an icepick in my brain. I could feel pressure welling behind my eyeballs, listening to a self-important insect prattle on. The din of the trains and his rambling turned into a mass of chaos. I didn't intend to, but before I realized it I had extended my arm and pushed him forward. He lost his balance and fell facedown onto the tracks. He was able to lift his head up just in time to see the 5:35 barreling down on him. I'm not sure if he screamed or not. It's a funny thing about trains. They can take a body and reduce it to something resembling chunky soup in a matter of seconds.

I didn't stick around to see the aftermath. In light of the evenings events I decided to walk. I didn't mind the rain. It was refreshing and the air was a little sweeter.
Had the dream about Dad again last night. I'm not sure, but I think he was trying to tell me something. I couldn't make it out. If he was talking to me that's more than the fucker talked to me while he was alive. After a sleepless night now I have to put on my "human mask" and join the cattle for another day of hell.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Had a meeting with the Corporate Muppet this afternoon. Something about my productivity. I slapped on my best "human mask" and tried to act concerned and interested. It was pretty futile. After a few minutes its diatribe turned into a buzzing nuisance in the background. I just wanted to hurt it. I couldn't stop imagining beating it to death with a stapler, shoving its dead body in the utility closet. I was so lost in thought I barely noticed the buzzing stopped. I smiled and made a few non-specific replies. What a ridiculous charade.
Strange dream last night. I was standing on a river bank watching Dad drown, not moving to help. After a few idle moments I started throwing rocks at him as he struggled. The river turned crimson from the blood gushing from his lacerations. I sat on a bench to watch him sink in a pool of his own blood.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Jesus, doesn't it ever stop raining here? I can't believe I let them talk me into transferring here.
It's been three months and this city still doesn't feel right. The air tastes metallic in my mouth. The rain feels like acid on my flesh. Everything about it is wrong, especially the people. I look at their vacant, sheepish expressions and they disgust me. Their inane conversations about their pathetic lives are maddening. I do my best to smile and nod in the futile hope that they will move on and leave me be. I feel as if I have to wear a "person" mask around these cattle. I believe the mask is starting to crack.