My Blog

Falling from star to star on the ship Karnak

undead_tortuga — Tue, 13 Mar 2007 00:32:13 GMT

Graphic by me. Check out this awesome blog. www.maddogmagick.com

A Game of Hide and Seek

undead_tortuga — Sun, 03 Dec 2006 20:57:42 GMT

"It was long ago that we parted, in a place made of dreams. We were scattered apart like two broken bits of a fallen leaf on a cruel and playful wind. But I have never forgotten you..." Click below for the full page: www.viasinistrae.com/agameof.htm Text by Etanna (aka Undead Tortuga) Graphics by Etanna and Kyron Music by Kyron

In Search of the Ordinary at Lawton & 37th Ave

undead_tortuga — Sun, 03 Dec 2006 20:55:17 GMT

In Search of the Ordinary at: Lawton & 37th Ave in San Francisco, CA An experiment with graphics, sound and text here: www.allhaildiscordia.com/Lawton37.htm (Flash intensive. Give the page some time to download.) Graphics, sound and text by Etanna and Kyron

Tired and Trapped

undead_tortuga — Sun, 03 Dec 2006 20:52:31 GMT

"A white dog stands upon a red stool playing a lively tune on a fiddle. Across from him an old bearded man rests at a weathered oak table. With a thought he commands the dog whose playing animates the poor little marionettes..." Go to the full page here: www.viasinistrae.com/tired.htm Text by Etanna Graphics and Music by Etanna and Kyron

Labyrinth

undead_tortuga — Sun, 03 Dec 2006 20:49:11 GMT

Labyrinth An experiment in graphics and sound. Click here: www.allhaildiscordia.com/Labyr...06.htm (Give it some time to download. It's a fair size flash object.) Graphics by Kyron based on photos by Kyriel Sound by Etanna and Kyron Programming by Kyron Feel free to pass on the link to anyone that might be interested.

Blood is Spilled

undead_tortuga — Tue, 17 Oct 2006 05:07:13 GMT

"There is something that must be remembered. Or is it something that must be forgotten? The hands reach into the stream and cold water and too much blood splash in the basin. What does "H" mean? The real question? Who’s blood is this?" Click below for the full page: www.viasinistrae.com/bloodis.htm Text by Etanna Sound and Graphics by Etanna and Kyron

WE EMERGED FROM THE CHAOS

undead_tortuga — Mon, 16 Oct 2006 04:29:25 GMT

Squeals and shouts ring out. These cries walk a fine line teetering quickly from joyful to alarmed, from angry to soothing. Someone hums nonchalantly. Suddenly a child emerges from the room. Her face is painted yellow. She smells like a flower. Go see the full page here: www.viasinistrae.com/weemerged.htm Text by Etanna Graphics by Etanna and Kyron Sound by Kyron

Hiding the Wound

undead_tortuga — Mon, 16 Oct 2006 04:25:34 GMT

"Curly Black hair like a subterranean root system brushes your face , your bare skin and your exposed soul. Yes these things will get inside you. You may resist and feel them wriggling forcefully into you, or allow them to pass through you as a stone dropping past the surface and into the depths of a placid lake. Either way they penetrate you." Go see the full page: www.viasinistrae.com/hiding.htm Text by Etanna Graphics and Sound by Etanna and Kyron

I accept this tribute to the real mermaid of elsinore.

undead_tortuga — Mon, 16 Oct 2006 04:21:47 GMT

The Mermaid of Elsinore "It seemed to him that he himself was a creature of the sea, a seal, a dolphin, or a sea lion made human by some heartless magic..." Go see the full page here: www.viasinistrae.com/elsinore.htm Text by Gene Wolfe (from "There Are Doors") Graphics and Music by Kyron

We Were Gods Once...

undead_tortuga — Sun, 30 Jul 2006 03:56:59 GMT

We were Gods once... Proud, wild, in possession of supple and willing human bodies. We tore through life like fire through a space station, unburdened by gravity, propelled by our all consuming passions. Go to the full page here: www.viasinistrae.com/OnceWeWere.htm Text by Etanna Graphics by Kyron Voices: Etanna and Pepe Sound by Kyron (Warning: Flash intensive. Give the page some time to download.)

No Boundaries

undead_tortuga — Thu, 15 Jun 2006 02:43:08 GMT

Via Sinistrae. What the fuck is it? Kind of a gothic disco rave performance art music thingy from the dark side of the moon and deepest region of hell for anarchist satanist and environmental activist who want to sear holes in the material world and stick it to the man in the ultimate peaceful protest before they have to go back to changing diapers, working at the library, or serving coffee to ignorant Christian conservatives who have no idea what we'll be doing later next week when they aren't looking. The guy at the liquor store takes a club card from me and asks, "What is it?" My brilliant response? "Uh. It's like... a dance."

League of Shadows

undead_tortuga — Sun, 11 Jun 2006 00:07:58 GMT

This is the newest page. Text by yours truly Graphics by Kyron and me Sound by Kyron http://www.viasinistrae.com/leagueof.htm

T-Shirts and such

undead_tortuga — Fri, 09 Jun 2006 19:45:15 GMT

Hey, Go look at the blacknote store. Plenty of pictures from Kyron and me all over shirts and hats... and yes folks, even a wall clock! http://www.cafepress.com/blacknote

Crown of stars

undead_tortuga — Thu, 08 Jun 2006 06:36:19 GMT

"That wild wakeful one, never lost in the chaos. Always at home there. Ordering the primordial, defining creation..." Go to the full page here: http://www.viasinistrae.com/crownof.htm Text by Me Graphics by Kyron et moi Sound by Kyron

Moraga

undead_tortuga — Mon, 05 Jun 2006 04:13:48 GMT

A new era is born... http://www.allhaildiscordia.com/moraga33.htm Text and Graphics by me & Kyron. The sounds you hear are of course his work.

Choices

undead_tortuga — Tue, 30 May 2006 05:05:49 GMT

Check out the newest page on Via Sinistrae. Text by moi Kick ass graphics by Kyron http://www.viasinistrae.com/choices.htm

None

undead_tortuga — Sun, 21 May 2006 20:57:03 GMT

None and one and some under sun.... http://www.viasinistrae.com/none.htm text by Undead Tortuga Graphics by Kyron and UT

Beauty

undead_tortuga — Tue, 07 Mar 2006 22:17:44 GMT

New Page on the Via Sinistrae site: "You only have to allow beauty. She’s there waiting to be given some room to breath and unfold..." www.viasinistrae.com/beauty.htm Text by Etanna (Undead Tortuga) Graphics by Etanna (Undead Tortuga) & Kyron

Return to the Seas of Our Origin

undead_tortuga — Tue, 07 Mar 2006 22:13:48 GMT

Return to the Seas of Our Origin "Tear down the walls. Walk on the grass. Return to the seas of our origin..." www.viasinistrae.com/returnto.htm A New Page on the Via Sinistrae site. Text by Etanna (Undead Tortuga) Graphics by Etanna (Undead Tortuga) and Kyron

Wild and Uncompromising

undead_tortuga — Tue, 07 Mar 2006 22:11:00 GMT

"The wild uncompromising force of Love knows no limit, reaches out in every direction..." Visit the page here: www.viasinistrae.com/wild.htm Text by Etanna (Undead Tortuga) Graphics by Etanna (Undead Tortuga) and Kyron As always send me any questions, comments or suggestions you may have.

Domesticated

undead_tortuga — Tue, 07 Mar 2006 22:05:16 GMT

"Think what they tell you that you think. Rationalize the radiations away. Life is not a choice, give your body to the state. This is the end of Life, the road ends where Life is not a choice." To see the full page go here: www.viasinistrae.com/domestic.htm Text by Etanna (Undead Tortuga) Graphics by Etanna (Undead Tortuga) and Kyron As usual, send me any comments or suggestions that you may have.

We will not let you go

undead_tortuga — Fri, 03 Feb 2006 06:33:24 GMT

we will not let you go! let him go! will not let you go! let him go! will not let you go! let him go o o o o... ma ma mia, ma ma mia let him go It's like the fishermen have their feet caught in the nets It's like they're harpooning those damned mermaids for stealing all the fish and forgetting to fish. Kill those fucking mermaids who swim around in black waters. Makes our brains itch at night, makes our tongues dry, makes us sick with longing and fear. Damned slippery mermaids! Catch one! Catch that one before she slips back into the sea! But couldn't the mermaids sing and lull fish into the nets? Same number of fish caught, maybe even more fish caught with the help of elusive sea folk, or no fish and dried dead mermaids impaled and accounted for.

The Alien

undead_tortuga — Sat, 21 Jan 2006 03:03:37 GMT

The atmosphere is tense, even if we are both grinning. “You can trade something for it.” He tells me, his evil eyes smiling. “I don’t have anything you want. And it’s mine, I already took it from you.” I answer. He laughs. It is a sound that says, ‘I’m gonna’ gut you, bitch.’, rather than expressing mirth of any kind. I laugh too. I feel myself pushing us to that edge, to the place where murderous passions consume logic and reason, but I am unwilling to yield. I would rather be strangled here than allow him to maintain possession of my love. He is really trying to master himself. Honorably he clings to a doctrine that commands that he communicate openly, honestly. Yes, he takes a deep breath, makes eye contact over the sink where he is washing dishes and admits, “You know, I wouldn’t mind giving it to you if you had asked. It’s the fact that you just took it.” I did take it. I don’t regret it. When my hand reached into the dark space between the desk and the wall I didn’t know what I was grasping at. I believed I was retrieving something else, something known. What I found was the alien. What I found was love. I found an exquisite beauty, a princess forced into the darkness, denied until she at last became a dragon. I found a reflection, a lost piece of myself, and I’d be damned if I’d let the lifeless tyrant of social conventions hold her there even a moment longer. So I took it. I didn’t ask. I found love and stole away with it. “You mistreated it.” I tell him. My eyes dance over the alien’s visage across the room. He nods. True that. He didn’t care about it. What he cared about was the principle of the thing, maintaining the state of conventions. It occurss to me that he is only feigning acceptance to trick me. He starts out of the kitchen and I spring from my seat at the table, dash into the living room putting myself between him and the alien. His face registers surprise. My body is on fire with emotion. It appears that he was not infact approaching my love, but rather the cat who is purring on the rug. I am certain. If not before, then certainly now, he is jealous. Enough so that he would be willing to destroy it. Why not? It was insignificant to him. Now that my passions had been revealed he clearly saw what any good dictator would, a way to crush the enemy of the state. Ah, but would that mean breaking his beloved code? Ever the reasonable man this one. Yet, as he turns as if to leave I move protectively closer to the alien, and a strange shuffle dance ensues. Each of us moving ever closer to it watching and testing the other. He ends the dance by returning to the kitchen. That nervous laughter and the sizzle of tofu in the skillet vibrate through the room. I return to the table and turn my eyes back to it. I study the interplay of heaven and earth on it’s unblinking face. The more I look at this marvelous creature the wider my heart stretches, swirling and radiating. The night of our first encounter plays through my head, the details of who was gathered there, the strangeness and loveliness of it all, and the moment I knew I would help. The radiation from my chest expands to my whole body. My intent is clearer now. We need each other, this being and I. I need it to live again to have a reason to dance. It needs me to liberate it, carry it. For the first time since early childhood, I fly again on the wings of my heart. Across the room, sweeping my beloved swiftly up, out the door, I soar into darkness of the mystery. A voice from a small well lit room behind me shouts, “If you do this, don’t think you can come back!” No doubt he looked out that open door and saw a young woman running into the night with a hideous little psychedelic painting. He must have heard her unshoed feet slapping the asphalt in the parking lot until he closed the door. Only I know better.

You only live twice

undead_tortuga — Sat, 21 Jan 2006 03:02:10 GMT

My life doesn’t stop, not for a dead man, not for a crying baby, not for friendships. There is an endless supply of work to be done, details to be redeemed in. This Life, my story, isn’t mine. It is a surf board for riding currents of sound and light, which is a frightening and thrilling sport. There are those who long for the ultimate adventure and end up like Michael, as a pile of ash in this cookie tin under my hand. I feel elated to be helping him make the escape from the twisted little hell he was born into. My passion for surfing was born here as well, in this hell from which few will ever escape. They are stuck, having come to a point where there are no attractive choices. There is only Michael’s way or my way. Of course both ways require help. As I have had such help I now extend the favor to Michael. It is a humble _expression of gratitude for the radical waves his sacrifice has created to propel me further. We are taking this last drive together out of the chthonic prison that can no longer hold us. With his remains, a quart of soy milk, and a supped up Russian sniper riffle resting under our youngest daughters feet, we leave a small world behind. It is true that in addition to having a little help, one must be unafraid of falling to surf. Someone I know is always asking, “What’s the worst that can happen?”. Really. What is the worst? We have already hit rock bottom, fallen as far as we can, exhausted everything the small world has to offer. We can go back up, but who cares? There is nothing to do there but fall back down to here. We thrill seekers are hoping to catch a wave that will crash hard enough to thrust us through the ocean floor, into uncharted territory, to new dimensions of sound and light, to tinier details in which we can surf- alert, awake, and mindful. Because you see, Life doesn’t stop, not for the undead, not for the fallen, not for surfers.