|
February 17, 2001
Its post St.Louis now. I am in Minneapolis again. The North winds have me frozen in place, but spring is whispering. At
least I still hear the distorted whispers. Although the words, the songs, and the melodies are disconnected from my dreamtime, and the tongues speak alien.
I am spinning in circles while trying to see
into the future. Everything is a blur and although our Mp3s are being downloaded from the various places at a rate of 20-50 a day I feel that I have reached an impasse, a metaphorical check on the verge of checkmate. My heart
is ravaged by time, by the state of the nation, by love, by my own mutations. I am wondering if the grand canyons of my dreams are nothing more than disintegration echoes fading into distant ripples, like innocence lost.
I have no desire to fight, but no ability to give up. I want to rest but I am trapped in a runaway train crashing through a world without heroes. Salvation offers me fewer promises of bonfires and
beaches, my only sanctuary are the machines, ghost, and memories. I want to cry out for help, or find someone I want to help so that I may give my life meaning, I want to unleash my potential and create magic for others to
share, I want the selfish things, like good times with good friends. I want to lavish them with gifts and with the hope of a more exciting future.
But I am weak, wounded by the lies of others who have spread our name across
the Internet like a rancid bitstream paste, and by those who choose to believe what they hear and what they read without research. These battles have become all too frequent and much too painful to fight time after time.
I have been torn apart by the changes of those I love who have run empty on emotional fuel and taken refuge into new lives. I do not blame them. I wish I could find a way to taste the sugar and
spice of everyday living, but for me they have no flavor. I long for security and peace.
I am a victim of changes, a dinosaur, a unicorn, a fallen angel. A beautiful friend whom haunts me every day and
night caled them “paper wings” I call them sad wings of destiny. I am not sure what I am, what I have become, and although I know it has to matter, in my weaker moments I still wonder if it matters anymore.
So
this, yes this may be it...Unless the future holds a suprise twist in the stage I have played upon for over a decade, unless my heart is put back together once more, even if it is just a patchwork job, unless a light shines and
a path is found, the death of Mercy looms large like a menacing shadow (or an angel of peace) in a dark room waiting to develop. Here I stand, with an old eagles eye staring over the cliffs and trees, waiting for the end
that justifies the means, the beginning that erases the past. Death is change, and maybe it is time to find a new place to morph.
I am not drowning in regrets, I have seen so much, experienced so much
through eyes always burning for more , through the eyes of my friends who discover again the beauty of things that exist across the lost highways. I have tasted and celebrated the discovery of freedom. I have been
down before and experienced rebirth. Yes, freedom is a precious thing and although the price seems to be too high for most to risk the things that make life safe,I would risk it all again for just one taste. Yes, it is
true. With every discovery, every victory, pain and misery would paint the pages of time in blood and hate, tears and screams, manic laughter and disease. Freedom is scary.
I may have lost this battle, but the war rages on. There is new blood in the system, in the machines. I can visualize them like nano-bytes(nanites) unseen and buiding up new ideas to destroy the powers that be. I
know they are out there in this cyber age preparing to carry the torch for the others out there to see through the dark ages ahead. Yes, the numbers of the vision quest kindred are few, but they still exist. The nomads, the
pirates, the misfits, gypsies and mutants. Some are in the art and music sub cultures, but they are not religiouslly aligned with any genre of music, there is a sense of something more, something worth fighting for as we
stand against the mainstream, using our bodies as dams that disrupt the flow of disinformation. Maybe I am waiting for a sign so that I can emerge from my sleep, or maybe my time is up. My work on the web will continue to
evolve over 2001 as I finish up the last pages, the videos, and find a place to rest my tired soul. I also wish to find peace for the soul survivors of our epic tale.
If this is my final entry, then good-bye to all my friends, and if I return..Then you will know that I have found the strength to fight some more.Until then...
i am a voice form the edge...and your only free when you cross over it.
stay awake. beware and be aware.
I am here. thesoulsurvivor@aol.com
January 16th 2001
The X-mas misadventures have finally come to an end. I am now back in St.Louis and prepared to sort out the pile of mental debri and find the specks of diamond shards in the dephs of my mind so that I may blaze a
path through the jungle ahead. In basic terms, I have to come up with an idea. A plan.
I am one van richer, but my old van is acting up.I have a modest “medicine show” lots of new merchandise, and I have a nice computer,
although my recording system took heavy hits due to burning man’s alkaline dust which still eats away at my surviving equipment. I am still
unsure of how to proceed or where to go next. I have 3 choices, stay in St.Louis, Go to San Francisco, or return to Minneapolis. I am touched by the beautiful people of St.Louis and there scene. It is not like any other, it is
not just a dark scene, it is full of little lights and sparkles.
I have included some photo’s and words by the people of St.Louis at this location. “The Diseased 2001” It is a page dedicated by Apox to the St.Louis dream.
I also want to thank everyone nationwide who helped us discover the site with the slander. (someone decided that last years near fatall fire and the destruction of all Apox gear was a hoax) The site has published an
apology, but it may take months to repair the damage. It was in a prominent site, A goth of the week site that had over 5000 hits, although the page we were on was supposedlly only hit less than a dozen times. I have traced one
of those hits to 5 people allready. The announcement was in bold print and very cruel. Anyway, your words to us and to the careless web publisher will have hopefully shown her that you should never ever believe what you hear
without checking your sources no matter how close to you they may be, plus always give the other side to explain before punishing them. If it does not change her way of dealing with things. it is time to move on, the gothic
scene like any other , full of people who are “dark” in the negative sense. Anyway, we were touched by the letters of support, and I wanted to post a few for me to visit when I am falling on sad wings of destiny again. There are some fire related photo’s there as well. it is my page dedicated to the that Sunday I almost touched the idea of God. The song Sunday was inspired by that Sunday and written and recorded at a friends house the next day. It is on Mp3.com/apocalypsenow. Because we had just played Goth-Con 2000 in Atlanta, my favorite electric
guitar, and a our recording unit plus a few other things that allowed us to start over were still under the loft in the van. The with the help of the Red Cross, friends, and hard work we managed to replace most of what was
lost. A lot of stuff was gone forever. But, Hope and skitch, both who suffered burns, were Ok. This was not even a year ago. It was has only been 9 months two weeks. Nothing has been the same ever since.
January 1st 2001
 There is a lot going on in my head right now, too much. I am in St.Louis. A year ago I was in Wash.DC, and after that I was in Minneapolis again. We moved into a cool house which burned down and then we moved into another house that cost too
much and sucked our savings dry. Hope and Skitch (band mates) got married and that was a good moment. Skitch and for a few seconds Apox were featured on The Learning Chanel on a show called The
Human Canvas. Skitch is a great tattoo artist. We left our stupid 2nd house and became nomads again and lived in the desert helping build, patrol, and clean-up for a festival called Burning Man. We had great and horrible times there for 5-6 weeks before leaving with a big pocketful of cash. After that we played in
San Franpsycho & Seattle. We used to be based out of SF so we stayed there a week, hung out near Hunters Point where a last stand is forming. It seems as if the the prices keep rising there. Many of our friends are finally
having to make the choice to stay and devote lives to paying astronomical rent, or leave, some are being evicted. We left our livi/work space in 96-96 and returnned from tour in 97-98 to SF. After a long homeless stay and bad
memories with the elite, we left. Anyway we had fun and spent half our Burning Man money hanging out, then off to Seattle and then Minneapolis. For the first time ever the core split up and half of us camped out for the
winter in St.Louis while the married ones stayed in Minneapolis. It seemed as if after a long struggle the end was near for The Apox Kidz when without warning ...9:30 am
continued at 5:30 am 1/02/00
Well all this, is in the past, and today was just another strange day after a week and a half of being trapped in bad weather on the highway to hell and back. I got to spend moments with a new friend-Jessica from the outer
St.Louis area and inbetween it all I had long heart to hearts with Kat and Antoinette about the future of Apox. In about two-three hours I will once again be hellbouind through the ice and snow heading North to MPLS MN. I
missed the show at The Galaxy tonight with eric and Kat and Image. “sigh” But I have a memory of a girl who made me laugh a few times and has a toy ferret in her jacket pocket that squeaks. I am looking forward to being with
Kamela. I miss her a hell of a lot.
December 18th 2000
There has been a lot to write about. The show at The Galaxy in St.Louis went well, although the bitter cold(below zero) stopped many from bearing
witness, those who did come out were the fire that lit up my eyes. A lot of energy in this town. It bewilders me. In another story of my life I discovered a
site that proclaimed that we were bad people and had created the fact that our house burned down as a hoax to play on the sympathies of others for financial gain. “ouch” I have since forced the slander to be removed from the
site where it was so boldly posted, but damage has been done to our reputaion. I am hurt.
 The fire was real, I almost lost my friends and pets, and I did lose
all my equipment. nothing has been the same since then. It changed the course of our future. I wonder who started this rumour? Anyway, I am going to post some e-mails of support nad
eventually you will see some links on this page that lead to stories and poetry. Art and experimental web sites we have created in our isolation.
December 4th 2000
Images
It was a cold winter day, followed by a night twice the same. Me and Kamela and Kat made a journy into the unknown this afternoon and met our friends Dan, Mitzi,
and Richard who do Food Not Bombs in St.Louis. We met them at a house collective where we hung out with others whom reminded us once again that our allies exist in many forms. Then our friend Image came over to  Antoinette’s Apartment (where we are staying). I had a spiritual conversation with him and Kami about all things from life
imitating art to christmas spirit. One highlite was in regards to a query I interjected without warning. “when do the voices speak the loudest?” I asked. Image soothed my fears by sharing
with me and stating, “in the bathroom.” Another one of our kindred came by and grabbed Kat. “meow” Otherwise, everyone is asleep that is here now...I think its almost dawn.
December 1st 2000;
St Louis Apocalypse
This is the newest entry into the matrix journal family. As usual it is comprised of me (Mercy) bleeding my thoughts out into cyberspace. If I were
to express all my feelings right now, this entry would be pages and pages long, so I will start slow.
Tonight Is DECEMBER 1, actually its the 2nd now. it was a night of
friends gathering at a Coffee shop called South Grand.
I watched my closest allies branch out and socialize while i played my role as organizer and tried to keep my mental state in order. But, I spoke with
new friends, Shade, and Austin, Richard, Laz, sasha, Zap, Joel and others. I actually socialized. I am usually not too good at it. But somehow I managed
just fine. I like it here sometimes. St.Louis has a lot of good people. I chatted online with Joel (skeletal13 for a nice while only minutes ago.)
My brain hurts a lot these days. Maybe its the ghost of my past scratching
around inside too much, or maybe I am really ill. I can’t tell anymore. Maybe I should just take a few pain pills and see how I feel when I wake up. I think the sun..well the gloomy sky is lighting up. It is 6:45
|
|
