Come, Children. I'm inviting you. Come join me, here in The Darkness. The Darkness is eternal. It's the only thing which is. Come! Come quickly while the door is still opened. Trust your instincts, you have been called.

Children, this is The End. The world as yo know it is drawing to a close. This is The End. The Final Days, they are approaching. Shhh. Just listen. You can hear The End. You can hear it approaching.

Hobnail boots. Heavy boots. Trodding and tramping. Women and children, they intuit The End. Demons sing. Even the saints rejoice. All look forward to Eternity's come.

Brothers and Sisters, Earth's stewardship, freedom from want, desiderata, harbor for naught.

Come, hide and seek. Come and find me. Out on the desert, shapes change, the light dims now, then goes out.

Eternity now surrounds you, horrors abound. Sounds of soldiers marching, indignant in uniform, lessons in Latin.

All hear mordant laughter; all laugh in the hereafter. Sparkles, like starstuff, exorcist rites. Come, let's rejoice together in the eternal night.

----From "The Grimore"

What I'd planned to do with this, my new blog, is use it as a catchall for all the ideas which might spill over from (and which won't fit in) my new novel. My current book is about the end. And the only thing(s) it has in common with this blog are Las Vegas and the desert, as these are the settings in my book. (Not a pleasant experience. Ah, but the end of a world, it's dreams, plans, and especially its belief systems, are not a thing to brook smiles. But what the hell! -- It's my book. And I'll write it as I please.)

In the current work, there are no desert monster, no shape which has existed since before time, no monster which is neither good nor Evil.(And thus, hence, by definition, something which would be totally without restraint, save those restraints it imposes upon self, and thus completely, utterly Evil.) Evil fascinates me. It fascinates all of us. And I had hoped to . . . allow some of my fascination drip over onto this blog. But, and almost immediately, the story, which I intended to develop, got away from me. I tried to accomplish too much at once, on the one hand; and on the other hand, my intent did not allow for the work such a blog as I had planned would require.

Alas (and don't lose heart here, for I am not leaving cyber-space), I am busier than I thought. A job; a book; a girl (girls, really); and a host of new friends give me little time for . . . well, for many of the things I wish to pursue. For instance, I have little time for reading, movies, keeping up with contemporary events (we call that the news), listening to music, down time.

Still, I feel the new to write . . . something. I am incessantly creative. I don't know why. I just have all kinds of energy which I must place somewhere, put into something. (Or someone. But you can't do that twenty four/seven I know. I've tried. And why not? Still, I am young. And mine is a world . . . unconcerned with right and wrong. Mine is, now, a world which asks "What do you want?" and "Can you afford it?" A simple enough world. All of our worlds should be so simple.)

I had so much more time when I was at university. Strange, really. All thought that . . . we were so taxed for time. But I had an abundance of time. Of course, I did well at my studies. And I did not try to excell. I simply wished to graduate, get my degree. Move on. And that I have done.

Now, I have changed, not only in the sense that I have last time. My views, my opinions have shifted, changed. Probably because now, out here, away from parents and professors and peers, I fell comfortable with striking my own opinions. And I love life. It is people I've no fucking use for. There. It is said. People bore me. Characters from fiction, they excite, stimulate me. Ah! Such relief, to have that said.

So where was I? Ah, telling you that my blog, as I originally intended it, jumped track. Yes, well, I was undertaking too many ideas at once, as it were. And I didn't take the time to acknowledge that such a blog, complex, filled with different characters, containing multiple subplots, would require postings three or so times a week. And I don't have time for that kind of industry -- unless it pays. (Ah, now mine is a world in which everything done, is done for pay. It's a nice world. It is your world. The world you bequeathed to my generation. Fun, this world. And a bit naughty. And the underlying theme is "Be a success. Make lots of money. And have all the fun you can while you drive your Beemer to the bank." Right. I got the message. I think we all have.)

And I am not the least bit upset with the world I have inherited. I like it. I love it! Make money; substitute great sex, money, success, and even more! great sex for . . .Love. Hell, sex and success (with ample amounts of money, of course) are adequate substitutes for everything and anything. Or so I am finding. And if you make enough bread, if you bed enough cuties, you never ask yourself, "What is wrong with the way I am living?"

Nothing. I'm . . . I just turned 23. Yup. And already I make more money in three months than most working adults make in a full year. And I don't put in but 28 hour work weeks. Right. Nice. Love it. I think. (Well I know I do: This is what we spend so many years of our life getting a higher education: So we can be a success. So we can make lots of money.)

Anyway, I would like to use this blog to tell you more about Vegas. God, the history of this place is just . . . mega-awesome. The Civil War ("Born In Battle" -- the state motto); the days of the mines and the miners; the 1940's and the weapons projects; the 1950's and the atomic tests, the mob, the Rat Pack. And so on. Yep. I'd like to share all this with us.

And I'd like to tell you about the mob and Vegas. Not a where the bodies are buried kind of thing, because I couldn't care less. Life is filled with evil people. You all know that. And from where I'm looking: Everybody who comes here is tainted to some degree or other with Evil -- It's just that the people who run this place are . . . a bit more Evil than those who come here.

What I'd like to do is tell you factual stories about the mob, and how they made this town. Talk some about the myths and legends -- like those are really necessary, given what really goes down here. And I'm sure you watch the news coming out of Vegas.

So you know about the G-Sting Federal Corruption, which is just now playing itself out. You know about sex being used to bribe Vegas City Council members.

You know, too, about the gang of blacks, who attacked a casino worker outside of the MGM. (They will get theirs: This, afterall, is Vegas. And this city does not forgive -- particularly its minorities.)

And Vegas is a very racist town. No?! You don't think so. Really. Try telling that to any of the locals, regardless of their color or ethnic origin. But I, for one, don't have any problems with racism. I know I am supposed to. I know I am supposed to be . . . politically correct. But while I treat other races as my equal (because it is the law), I don't feel them to be my equals. And neither do you -- I know this, because I have listened to you. And so many of you wish to talk to me after a show. And you speak truth. God, do you ever speak truthfully. Your words are cold, filled with anger. Even with hate. But I have learned to take that in stride. The world -- America as it really is -- is not the world of classrooms and textbooks. You can believe that.

And you know, I have no sympathy for the weak, for those of you who have allowed the world to fuck you over. Tell you something I was taught in my psychology classes: None has any more power over you than you allow. That is a basic fact of psychology, Brothers and Sisters. And (fact two), the more power anyone has over you, the more power you then, by extension, have over them. Think about it some time.

And this -- Let's quickly correct a myth, shall we: The myth is that 1 in 3 women will be raped by the time they are 18. Wrong! The actual statistic is as follows: 1 in 8 women will be raped in their lifetime. Ah, big difference that. (Where do I get all this info? Well, if you truly read, I get it from the same source whereby you would get it. And if you don't like books (and who really does these days), you can get your info over the net. You just need to know how to properly resource the net -- something else I learned how to do at the university.)

So, I may (will probably) use this blog to . . . rant. And rave. Afterall, it is my blog. And these are my thoughts. My opinions. And I don't care about being politically correct. Honesty is what matters to me.

And I'm not going to worry about hurting anyone's feelings. For instance, should I talk about illegal aliens, I'm not going to play to good feelings about why we should welcome them here. Rather, I'm going to tell you why corporate America wants them here. And I'm going to tell you why many Mexican-Americans don't want any more of their country men here. And this is all very 'American,' because the whole immigration thing is about dollars and cents. Not about . . . well, the bullshit I hear on the TV, read in the papers -- even read on the blogsites. (Thanks to illegal immigrants here in Las Vegas, the average dealer makes $6.10 and hour. And the majority of dealers are Mexican. Try telling them you want to bring more Mexicans in this country, thereby to lower THEIR wages still further. Right: Try telling them that. On the other hand, tell the casino owners you're going to dry up their supply of cheap below the border laborers, and see how quickly they call up their congressmen. ) Enough for today. I've got to go out and make myself rich. Correction: I've got to go out and make myself even richer still -- because thanks to my parents, who bought in to all this crap about success, and who did very well at becoming successful (translation: My parents have made a shitload of money and have continued to be too busy to spend it), I have more money then I will probably ever be able to spend . . . unless I become really addicted to the cuties. Which just might happen. Bye. Hug your kids. Tell them you love them. And don't fill your heads with crap. Be your own person. Be kind to an animal -- they deserve kindness more than most people do.