http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk A gothic blog of an unreal reality en Trinity@artof3.com Copyright 2007 Pivot Pivot - 1.30.2: 'Rippersnapper' Sat, 14 Jul 2007 19:15:19 -0500 60 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=30 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=30#comm
Since the last entry, we've lost three more men, two have attempted suicide, and Frankie's suffering heart failure.

So, I'll reveal a few secrets that people have wondered about. As you may know, everything that happened here was based on factual occurrence in daily life. It was only twisted in the perspective and labels.
Sacred Heart became Holy Blood, for example.
River City is Spokane, Washington which has a river running through the middle of it.
The Vampire was a phlebotomist, drawing plasma from my veins.
The corpse weed that took Will from us was nothing more than river currents and underwater growth.
The damned thing with the unholy smell that lurked about the mission with it's black fur marked with white in the dark was a large skunk that caused us no end of troubles on our rounds.
The Great White Whales that took Rod away were the truly immense women he sought out on the net to take him in. (Yeah, I know it's sleazy, but that's what happened, I didn't write it)

And so it goes.
If you have other questions, feel free to email me here at the Art Of -3- website and I'll try to answer as I can.

It was fun, but it's just not any more. So I'm closing this down for now. Maybe some day in the future, it won't be so painful to continue. But for now, this is The End.

In Their Memory:
Mike Edwards
Greg Stuek
Kalen Hearn
May they know peace now that was denied them here.
]]> 30@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Thu, 15 Feb 2007 16:38:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=29 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=29#comm
I wish I could blame it all on work - on being just too damn busy to write.
I could. It has been busy. Very busy. New gig keeping me working constantly. And we lost the net connection on the graveyard desk, so I can't post while on shift any more.
I could blame it on these things, but that would just be burying much of the truth in convenient excuses.

The truth is, I've been avoiding it, too.

Avoiding writing about Johnny.

Johnny was a deskman. He managed to make his escape back into the world just before I started this blog. The Tiger was his replacement. Johnny survived to reach veteran deskman status, and then he moved on, heading to school himself in computers and build a new life for himself - starting over again at 46.

Johnny was an easy going soul, though things were never easy for him. He was a former warrior in service to the country. His nose was broken in two places. He carried the marks of a hard physical life on him, but wore them with an easy smile.

Rough and casual, he was the kind of guy you could kick back with comfortably, who always had a friendly word and warm greetings, no matter any pain one might see in his eyes.

And there was pain. He constantly lived on painkillers, and was undergoing regular treatments to cope with the ongoing pain that wracked his body. But he never let that come between him and those of us around him.

All of us who knew him would agree - Johnny was a good man. One we were happy to know. And we all were glad to see him starting a new chapter in his life, even if it meant he had to leave us behind for now.

And then the Praetorians called.

They had his body and were seeking his next of kin.

The Mission was the last address anyone had for him. We were the ones who knew and cared for him in the last months of his life.

And we can't even find out what happened to him. They'll answer no questions - offer no clues. We only know that he is gone. Did he finally succumb to the pain and make his own exit from this life? Did someone else take it from him? Was there just some damn meaningless accident that ended his time on this Earth?

We don't know. We'll never know. We're not allowed to know.

They won't tell us a damned thing.

We only know that we've lost a good man forever.

Johnny was a deskman.

Now he's not.

And it's total bureaucratic bullshit that we're left to wonder how and why with no hope of answers.

We miss you Johnny.
You'll be remembered with love by those of us who knew you.

And we'll always wonder how and why you were taken from us.


Johnny McDougal
1960-2006
He rests free of pain now.
]]> 29@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Tue, 19 Dec 2006 12:50:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=28 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=28#comm
The recruiting poster worked - within 24 hours we had two new men on the Graveyard Desk. They're very different, almost a designed study in contrasts.

Well, except that they both seem a bit short, but that's my perspective.

One is old, the other young. One bald, the other with Harry Potter-ish out of control hair. One is slow and passive of presence, the other nearly jitters out of control.
They seem interesting, and both have made it through a week of training and duties without dropping out. So they may be here for a while.

I'll introduce you to them next time, but i got a report from Holy Blood today. Frankie's coming home, he'll be sleeping here tonight.

It's not often I get to talk to one of the Order on a casual basis, but it seems Frankiestein's a good topic of conversation around Holy Blood.
So he started talking when I started asking about him.

When Frankie was brought in, the first thing they did was put him under the paddles to give him a massive quick charge. The levels of voltage cause the entire body to seize up as the electrical flow of the nerves are overridden inducing a massive muscular seizure. In any normal case, the cessation of the charge causes the recipient to spasmodically unclench, going completely limp as the muscles snap back like too tightly stretched rubber bands. It can leave them looking boneless, in a puddle on the table.

Frankiestein sat up.
He sat up, eyes wide, growling as every jumped back a step; worried he might come off the table at them.
Everyone in the chamber, he said, just held their breath and watched, frozen in place for the longest ten seconds...
And then Frankie collapsed back onto the table, and they all exhaled and made nervous jokes while trying to decide whether to continue or not.

I don't know what they finally decided, but after the session, they asked if he had any memory of the incident. They didn't expect him to. There's an interesting type of pain killer they seem to use in the sessions. It doesn't so much kill the pain, as makes you forget it was ever there. So by rights, any memory he had of sitting up in reaction to the pain should have been obliterated with the memory of the pain itself.

And for the most part, that seems to have held true.
But Frankie remembers one of the Order holding something up - something he couldn't have seen at any time except during the procedure. What it is? No clue - just something he'd never seen in waking time.

Frankie's coming home today.

And apparently some at Holy Blood are at least as glad as we are. ]]> 28@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Sat, 28 Oct 2006 16:23:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=27 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=27#comm Graveyard Desk is moving to my personal webspace this weekend. It's currently up and running, though it may need some tweaking as I go along.

The biggest problems have to do with moving the comments. There may be some loss of older comments in the process, but I don't think so. (Though not all are transferred yet - so don't panic if you don't see yours)

The "Recent Comments" display may seem out of whack for now. It seems that instead of sorting by the date listed in the comment data, it sorts by the order I transferred. Not knowing this, I had started at the most recent and was working backwards. I'll fix it if I can, but if not, the problem will be self correcting as new comments enter the database.

The new location is www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/

And here's another bit of overdue business - finally Tpapa Fred's portrait:


I'll continue to post the blog to both locations for a bit, and I'll announce the final post at the old site when it happens, with the forwarder to the new location. ]]> 27@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Sat, 21 Oct 2006 17:19:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=26 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=26#comm
Just before Frank The Palm was carted away (never to be seen again?), Frankie The Dago was taken back to Holy Blood. Instead of the slow charge he's been taking, he got a few sessions of high intensity voltage applied by direct paddles. While the effect of this is apparently a good thing in the long run, it was quite debilitating for the short term. So Frankie has been gone for a week, and it's been just the Blackbird and myself again.

To help fix this situation, one of the Paladins, Michael, asked me to design a new recruiting poster for Graveyard Deskmen.

Here's the flyer I created for him:



It had better help bring in new recruits. When Frankie returns, we're going to lose him. He'll be joining the order of Programmers, and will be shifting to daytime duty on the desk. While this makes good sense given his physical state in recent times, it leaves us severely undermanned on the Graveyard Desk. Not to mention losing my senior man on the desk. He might not be able to handle anything physical currently, but he was fully trained for dealing with all the communications and information processing.

Blackbird has been picking things up well, but there really hasn't been much time to train him on all the little details. Without anyone else here to handle the security, bagpulls, box rotations and the rest, he's had to handle most of those things while I'm dealing with the information side of our duties. So while he knows the basics, there's a lot of things he's only partially equipped to handle.

As soon as we get in some new bodies, we'll rectify that.

In the meantime, the vines seemed to have stopped spreading - currently infesting dorms 1, 3 & 4, while dorm 2 still remains unaffected.

The Thing has faded into the background, almost never seen or smelled in the last few weeks.

The weather is cold and getting colder - more and more seek shelter with us lately. Soon we may have to turn them away for simple lack of space.

That is something I've never had to do before. Frankly, I find the possibility most disturbing. We're here to help, but our resources are very finite. We'll stretch them as far as we can, but I don't think it's going to be enough.

May Heaven help those whom we are unable to. ]]> 26@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Thu, 19 Oct 2006 16:45:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=24 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=24#comm
If you're curious, the results can be seen at the Art Of -3- website.

Meanwhile, Frank The Palm brought us a bit of comedy in his short tenure on the Graveyard Desk. At our regular monday meeting of deskmen, he brought up a point he was curious about.

How do we handle it if the Praetorians come to arrest someone in our care?

The procedure was explained to him. We try as much as possible not to disturb the guests. The Praetorians are left to wait by the main gate and we gather their perp and bring him down with minimal fuss. We keep everything low profile to help maintain the safe atmosphere.

The Palm nodded almost sagely, absorbing the information with a quiet smile.

So I guess we really should have expected it when the Praetorians showed up the next day asking for him...

Should have, but no one did.
We were all caught by surprise at the time. But it seemed stereotypically obvious after the fact. All his declarations of being Sicilian, not Italian, have a strong taste of dark comedy to them now.

Ah, well. His time on the desk was short, but at least he was somewhat entertaining. ]]> 24@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Tue, 10 Oct 2006 05:04:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=23 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=23#comm
I wasn't there, but the stories the others tell are a direct repeat of his last disappearance. Except they say it was a different white whale this time.

As if my brain didn't hurt enough the first time.

The major difference this time is the lack of shock at the happening. Everyone just accepted it, and most just nodded and waved goodbye.

Some were glad to see him go.

As far as the graveyard desk is concerned, we won't be missing him. Blackbird is working out fine, and we have a new man - a Sicilian called Frank The Palm.

For some strange reason, he makes some folks nervous. Probably just stereotyping. Or maybe those of us who've worked the graveyard desk for a while are inured to such vibes.

We'll see.

Keeping things short this time since there's been so much work to do lately. I'm heading off to try to catch up on some long lost sleep. Definitely more next time, and another deskman portrait. ]]> 23@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Sun, 01 Oct 2006 03:20:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=22 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=22#comm His breath smelled of the rot surrounding the great white whale that took him.

I don't even know what to think about that.

I don't even want to know what to think about that.

Every one is keeping their distance from him. All are on edge.

I don't...

Hell.

Tell you what - let's just start posting pics of the former deskmen, and move along for right now. More on what's happening next time.

Here's the Tiger for you:
]]> 22@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Wed, 27 Sep 2006 04:20:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=21 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=21#comm
Haven't had much time to think lately. But this is leaving me to wonder - why is it releasing its unholy stench while remaining hidden as it is?

I don't like the only answer I've come up with -
because it's announcing itself, calling to others of its kind...

Meanwhile, the new deskman seems to be working out. Blackbird is catching on quick and has an eagerness to be good at what he does. That helps. It helps a lot. I think he'll do well on the desk. I hope he survives for a long while.

Certainly longer than the Rod did.

And rumor has it that the Paladins have found a fourth recruit. If so, we'll be fully staffed again for the first time since we lost Tpapa and the Tiger.

Speaking of whom, I'll run pics of both of them this week. But for today, here's a pic of Frankiestein:
]]> 21@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Tue, 26 Sep 2006 05:14:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=20 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=20#comm We finally got a new deskman (Blackbird, whom I recommended). More on that real soon. Now that there's more than two of us, I'll have the chance to start posting again.

This is just a quickie to let you know of the big changes coming - I finally registered my domain. That means a couple things to this blog. The biggest is - graphics!
I'll finally have the chance to start posting some illustrations with the entries. I'll be starting with pics of the various deskmen, past and present.
To start with, here's a larger version of the icon pic used for the blog.

I'll post more when I come back on duty tonight.

see you then!

=== === ===

(For those who may be interested, the new domain is ArtOf3.com - grand opening October 1st) ]]> 20@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Mon, 25 Sep 2006 04:19:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=19 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=19#comm
Then they grew in a matter of hours to enwrap the beds in dorm three. And now they've spread to dorm one, bypassing dorm two for some unknown reason.

Actually, I have a guess about that, but not one that explains the why of it.
Dorm two is different in one respect from the others - it's where the day sleepers bed down. Those who must venture out before dusk to return in the morning, and the mildly ill. We keep that dorm dark during the day for them.

Perhaps that inhibited the vines?

They seem to spring up in the first hours of light, achieving full growth by about 7am.
And then they do nothing. No source has been found, no effect perceived.
They're just there.

I'm not sure which bothers me more. The way they're spreading, or the fact that everyone seems to have decided to just ignore them.

By themselves, I might do the same. Might.
But I think of the number of odd happenings lately and wonder. The Thing has not moved on. It's evil stench is still absent, but it's out there. I haven't encountered it again the last several nights, not directly. But I've felt its presence, seen its spore. I know it's there.

I find myself eager for a new deskman to send out on some of the rounds. Doing them all myself, being the only one out there for it to find... it makes for raw nerves, leaves me on edge.

Maybe that's the main reason I worry about the vines.
But I don't think so. There's just too many deviations from the normal strangeness. And the number of bagpulls seems to be way up. The most I've ever seen in a single night was ten, and that was most unusual. Two or three would be more typical. Sometimes one or none.
But this past week, there's been a half dozen a night, on average. And twice there were nine.

We're talking 40-50 bagpulls in the last week.

That's not right. Not at all.

The cold is lingering, spreading to daylight hours now.
The regulars are disappearing with alarming frequency. New people are accepted and welcomed into the Mission, only to disappear before nightfall - fleeing rather than stay here? I don't know. But it seems that way.

Isaac, an old friend from my first days here returned yesterday. But before supper he bundled up and headed back out. He chose to sleep hiding in his vehicle, hoping for safety that he doesn't seem to think he can find here any more.
But he couldn't tell me why - only that he had to go.

And still just the two of us on the Graveyard Desk, with Frankie The Dago still unable to do more than watch and process information.

If anything happens to me, I don't know what will happen. I suppose one of the Paladins will have to step in to fill the gap. Not Michael, certainly, but perhaps Silvered Bill.

I don't know. I shouldn't think about it. Certainly shouldn't put it into binding words and give it power.

There's too damn much I don't know lately. But I do know we need to find more capable Graveyard Deskmen.

And soon... ]]> 19@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Wed, 20 Sep 2006 04:50:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=18 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=18#comm That we lost him that quick was no real surprise. I kept expecting each night to be his last. He was barely here anyway.

But the how of it was still surprising.

Some call him Ahab now.

River City may have a river running through it, but we're nowhere near the ocean.

And yet - the Rod was snatched by a great white whale.
A befouled creature, surrounded by a miasma of rot.
It claimed the contents of Diesel's stomach.

Diesel is one of the roughest of the deskmen, working day and evening, and even into the graveyard shift at times. He's faced and dealt with a host of vile things in his time at the Mission, and before.
But when confronted by the great white whale, he lost it.
Quite literally.
His system emptied out into the nearest wastebasket in response to the presence of the creature.

While he and the others were incapacitated or frozen in shock, the white whale engulfed the Rod and was gone.

No one tried to follow.
Nor did he seem to want to be rescued.


They just stared in horror of the beast, in relief that it was gone, and in stunned wonder at the half smile on the Rod's face as it carried him away.

And so we are but two again, just Frankiestein and I.
The hunt for new Graveyard Deskmen continues.

I suggested recruiting the Blackbird. I know he's interested in the job, and he's smart as a crow.*
But the decision belongs to the Paladins; it is not mine to make.

So we'll see what tomorrow brings. And carry on as best we can, as always...

=== === ===

*(Yes, crows are indeed really damn smart. It's not a slam. Crows are better tool makers than chimpanzees, even. For a little more info - and even video of a crow making a hook from a piece of wire - check these brief articles at National Geographic: One Two) ]]> 18@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Sun, 17 Sep 2006 03:29:00 -0500 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=17 http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk/pivot/entry.php?id=17#comm
But there is no trace of its trademark stench of evil.
Always - Always - we scent the beast and rarely sight it. But three times I saw it tonight, and not once did I smell it.

The Rod is of questionable use. We wonder if we send him out into the night on security rounds, "Will he find his way back?"

So I'm out on most of the rounds, and now the Thing is out there. With no warning to give it away until it's already upon me.
Not fifteen paces out of the Mission it stepped from the brush in front of me.

I froze on the spot, the closest I had ever come to the beast. Dark eyes shining bright beneath a heaping mound of thick fur, black as night, with luminous stripes in the fur giving shape to the Thing.

Keeping torch high, I took two steps slowly back, then began backing steadily away under its dark gaze.
I decided to reverse the route on my patrol. Purely for security reasons, of course. It's always best to vary the routine, you know.

Patrol was routine until I approached the trailers, and there was the Thing again. It emerged from the trailers, almost casually sauntering toward me.
Suddenly I remember I needed to check and see if the newspapers had been delivered. So I reversed my course to circle back around to the Mission proper.

After checking the delivery zone to see if the papers had arrived (none had), I started to head around the Mission to the other side to the main gate back inside.

And there it was again. Far too close - close enough for it to attack with ease. Breath stopping in tight chest, I backed slowly away, hoping it would let me leave without marking me with its fury.

At that point I recalled...

I got nothing - I turned and ran. I headed as fast as I could the other way around the Mission and sealed the gates with a resounding Slam! as I rushed back inside.

I don't know what happened - why the Thing's stench is gone. But it's dangerous as Hell.

There's no warning any more.

We're at the Thing's mercy... ]]> 17@http://www.artof3.com/graveyarddesk default Fri, 15 Sep 2006 04:04:00 -0500