Stupid Disclaimer: The columns contained herein are as close to their original form as possible. Taking on minor duties of editor, typos and grammatical errors have been fixed, and certain content has been altered or removed with knowledge of the author. - Ken Conley.
I find that there is only a certain amount of stuff that I can take at any one time. I also know that here are a few of you out there who have interests that are similar to mine. With this publication, I hope to... actually, I have no idea what I hope to accomplish with it. It's just kinda cool. Read it, and when you're done, do something else with it, I don't care.
I hope it will cover mostly industrial music, white wolf stuff, fiction, mythology, and other interesting things. In order to do this, though, I need your help. Send me fiction you have found or written, artwork, articles on anything cool, and anything else that you think will fit.
Submit over the Net: Kenji.
This issue is about the size that I hope they will all be; however, in most of them the feature won't be so long, and the other stuff will be larger. Oh yeah, each issue will contain some music reviews, a large feature, and a section on WoD news(not included on this page because old news is bad news). The perspectives column is an area for the readers to write editorials about anything and everything they want. Music reviews can be about any type of music, and anyone can submit them, but I have the final say as to what goes in (that means if I get any submissions saying that Vitalogy is the angst filled hit of the year you can be assured of an immediate rejection). Features will be the largest items, and will probably be role-playing oriented.
That's about all I have for this, sorry the column is so dyslexic, I didn't even convey my real message, but that's Ok. If you send stuff I think we can make the next few issues really cool.
Thanks in Advance.
This time around I got my hands on another column by Kenji. This issue attempts to demonstrate to us the process by which one slowly loses his mind. "No, I swear, the moon landing was done in a sound stage in Arizona. The President is a pawn of a secret, all encompassing, dictatorial government. My teacher is an alien!" Brendan perpetuates this feeling of teetering sanity with the first of the Doctrines of Nolloth, a lovely feature which I hope continues for awhile. This issue is graced with the beginning of a music reviews column, which I hope all will be contributing to. Fortunately I only got one review for Vitalogy, the fact that it was even mildly complimentary leads me to believe it is a joke.
I believe that I need to give a little history on The Doctrines of Nolloth. Nolloth is not a fictional character, he is a true deity among a large pantheon of gods. His avatar currently resides in the body of a zucchini at the home of Brendan Murphy, high priest to his royal king of pestilence.
As you might have noticed, if you received the first two, this issue has artwork. I am very happy about this, and I think it is a great addition. I am looking for more, and not only large full page features, but also illustrations to the articles and features.
Most of the comments that I've received were in praise of the Doctrines of Nolloth. I have received several requests for additions to the Doctrines; however, Brendan will not be submitting anymore. There are several reasons for this that we discussed, there reasons are:
Don't fret though, we have an alternative appearing in this issue that I believe will be at that level when improved upon. It is entitled The Compiled History of the Shrimp Kingdoms. It is an open-ended feature that anyone may write in. I am starting it with some background, and the readers can take it from there.
Another addition to the newsletter is a continuous feature dealing with the world of darkness. It is a regional expansion section for Vampire, Werewolf, and Mage. Being from all three games, it has been named The Book of Raging Across the District of Columbia by Night. You may submit stories, adventure ideas, region descriptions, or anything as long as it deals with D.C. in the world of darkness.
I am going to end this issue as I end all of them, by thanking those who have contributed to it, and begging for more of the high quality stuff I've already gotten.
Your Humble Editor: JR
You may have noticed or you may have heard that the editor has changed. I, Kenji B, have taken over putting it together. For all those Justin fans, he is still doing a big part, putting together The Book of Raging Across D.C. by Night, gathering stories, writing stories, and other weird but cool stuff.
One of the reasons that I didn't get out this issue sooner was the lack of stuff to put in. As you can see, I don't have any news because no one gave any news and I am not about to write it myself. There are no reviews because--well that was my fault. What can I say, I'm lazy. And I didn't have many stories to put in.
I need news articles, reviews, art work, letters (about whatever has been bugging you and you want to share), weird funny stuff, and mostly stories. You might constantly be thinking to yourself "my stories are stupid" or something like that. Grow a backbone. Take a chance. I'm not going to publicly shame you. If you want, I won't even use your name. And I'll keep your secret as well.
The point is: I NEED STORIES! Send them to me. This newsletter will be better for it. Give your contributions to whoever gave you this copy.
In this issue, the Chronicles of Storch talks about the rise of a chemistry teacher to world dictator. There is some other stuff. A story that Justin wrote, another by Chuck McEdwards, and something else I wrote. Also, there is the part 2 of DC by Night, and a poem by Byron. It's all there. Read. Enjoy. Be merry.
Your New Editor
Creatures of habit, we are afraid to open our eyes because we might become hypocrites. If we change our minds after arguing for something so hard, then we look dumb. We are stubborn to the end. From the "religious wars" that fight for the love of God to the political battles, we refuse to yield.
And it is this mold that threatens us most of all. We forget to see how precious life becomes, and it wastes away. Dreams are forgotten, goals fade away, and wishes turn to dust. We don't "milk the very marrow out of life." Instead, we grasp precariously to things that might have once been true in our hearts, but are now simply habits.
We have to open our eyes because we are as blind as the Pharisees of Jesus' time, and our blindness hurts us and the world around us.
Be yourself. Don't be what others say is "right" or what you molded yourself into years ago. Don't be a rebel if you don't want to be a rebel. Don't be a conservative if you don't want to be a conservative. Be yourself. Reach out and do what you want to do, find your goals again, dream your dreams again.
Don't worry about image or style, popularity or opinions. Open your eyes, breath in the air, and go out and live.
He told his family that he needed some time off, just coming back from a week long trip with his kids at his father's house. He told them that he was going up to their ski cabin. Just to think alone, in peace.
Somewhere along the road, he pulled over and got out of the car. Somewhere along the road he stood in the cool Utah night breeze. Somewhere along the road he whispered "good bye" for the last time. Somewhere along the road he pulled a gun out and shot himself.
Shocked are you? If you've read my stories, you probably are thinking "no" with an I-figured-it-out-smart-ass grin. You see, that's the problem (one of the many) with our modern society. We are all desensitized; by the news, by the movies, by the shows. We take death for granted. All of us. ALL of us. Even I do. Just read my stories for God sakes.
But I cannot take credit for my introduction. It wasn't my idea. But I didn't steal it from some other story either, although you might have heard something similar before. I took the idea from reality. I took it from REALITY!
It happened just a few days ago (early August). I won't name names because it's not my right, but I've known his father since I have had memories. He is like a second father to me, an uncle, and a friend. And he was so proud of his son. So proud. . . .
I heard the terrible news in the morning after coming back from Washington. At first it didn't sink in. I rolled it over and over in my mind. I mean, things like that never hit this close to home. When I realized what my mom was saying, it hit me like a blow to the stomach. I felt dizzy and had to sit down. Just last week (no, less than a week) I talked with him. He was just here! I remember his kids playing tag on their grandpa's deck and lawn, their father standing by watching. And then to find out that he killed himself.
At that time, I wasn't sorry for him or the life he gave up, nor for his children or wife. Not at that time. I was so very sorry for his father. I drove him to the airport that afternoon and he kept bringing up memories he had of his son. I didn't know what to say, what to think. I was just numb all over.
Already this sadness is draining from me, replaced by the careless indifference that our world has programmed into our brains. Only now, as I reflect on the grievous moment, do I feel that sorrow. But there are reminders. A couple of young kids playing and laughing and running around--as young kids tend to do. An old man crying alone.
I fear that this is going to toll heavily on the man's father. He was very youthful before, filled with happiness and vigor. I hope for the best. I fear the worst.
The most disturbing thing about this is that it can happen to anyone, anytime. It could be your father that pulls to the side of a lonely, moonlight road with a .38. It could be your brother, your mother, your sister, your best friend. It could be your neighbor, your uncle, your most hated enemy. But whoever it is, however it happens, you--will--not--be- prepared.
The world in which we inhabit has drilled into our very existence the teaching that disaster falls on the other guy. And when it does fall on us (and believe me that it does and it will), we are totally taken off guard. You simply cannot prepare for something so incomprehensible as death until it happens, over and over again.
I'm sorry to sound extremely pessimistic and I'msorry to bring down your day. Just remember that the ripples of Death affect a great deal more than you probably realize. It's fun to watch on T.V. It's fun to see in movies. Try laughing when it hits close to home.
longer exists!) or my new account at (removed). Also, keep checking
the website (now at
for announcements. It's
been great fun and although I won't necessarily miss high school as a whole, there
are parts that I will miss . . . doing the Symposium is certainly one of them.
Your ever grateful editor,
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Used with permission.