|||||>
scratch disk: an art sampler | GO click on a link
() Angelic
Choirs
()
the daily toil
()
instant messaging
() Forbidden
()
spoiling for a Fight
() the
um, librarian ?!
() Fall
of the Malakim pic
()
hellish
hordes
()
the
Answer to : "who's YOUR daddy !"
|||||> scratch
this: kick-ass covers
[] est
Liber
Servitorum
[] a
taste of Things to Come: Infernals
[] The
Marches
[] THE
FALL OF THE MALAKIM - rew 100% AWEzum cover !!!
[] dreadful
intensity: The
Final Trumpet
|||||> Some
fine writing by the choirboys @ SJG:
The Good ()
In
The Beginning | The Bad () Audiences
With A Prince
and everything
else below and above : The
Lifeblood Of Gods.
Also:
"my
little diary" (aka The Life of a Soldier of God, scroll down),
A
Visit from Dominic,
and the "One
of Life's Many Ironies" vignette - from The Fall of The Malakim. ..
|||||> external
resources (directly lifted from The First Gate)
() The Saints
and Angels page at,Catholic Online can be found here.
() Steve Feldon's
muy-comprehensivo In Nomine Encyclopedia
() circa 1800's
- Find out what those G^d*awful Biblical
names REALLY mean
|||||>
In Nomine Resources
and In Nomine Collection:
the MOST
useful links regarding Everything I_N (: |
or "something
to take my mind off things":
|||||>
Snipped from the In Nomine Mailing
List Digests: "Everyone has days off."
The trees are
changing color, ready to lose their leaves for the winter.
A bouquet
of smells travels through the air. Water on the sidewalk and grass.
Exhaust from
the road mixed with oil in the gutter. The scent of cooked meat
from a hot
dog, along with a slight musty smell from the cart itself.
Perfume, of
a type no longer popular. Baby powder from a nearby carriage.
Freshly cut
grass, just yards away. Gel, in a young man’s hair. Deodorant.
Traces of
scented soaps and shampoos. A half-eaten apple. Rotting garbage.
Stale sweat.
Newsprint. Rotting wood. A wet dog.
- much thanks
to Alexander Shearer
|||||> "Human
for only a lifetime", poetry by EK Dresner
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||>
an excerpt from "Crucifixion":
Do
you want to talk about it?
No, not really.
Why not?
Because there
are some things that are better left alone.
If you
never talk about it, it will fester inside you forever, like an open sore.
That's okay.
I don't mind. I like my seeping wounds.
They give
me something to pick at in the middle of the night. Pick, pick, pick...
It isn't
healthy.
I'm not healthy.
If I was, I wouldn't be talking to you. I wouldn't be here.
You should
talk about it. Our conversations will be kept strictly confidential.
I don't believe
you.
We are
getting nowhere.
I had noticed.
The rest, and
other stories can be found in Tales
of Before.
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|
