DICKSTERLAND

DAMN TAM

2007-11-08T13:58:00.001+01:00

A man can only go as far as he has dough. Tamanghasset was a turning point in the trip. The road was pointing me to Djanet, but my moolah rations ran out and Visa called me to Ghardaïa.

The desert is no place for a credit card. No store, bank, hotel, excursion guide will take 'em. Nobody uses them. Maybe they melt with the heat here?

One lead on the manuscripts sent me to the Assekrem, an amazing place in the Hoggar. I may never find 2D and 3D, but if I keep discovering places like Taghit, Beni-Abbès, Timimoun, and this place, I will never regret having taken up the challenge. Should I die in the process, it will have been a fulfilling endeavour.

Yours faithfully,

Jack Stack.

CLOSE ENCOUNTER AT TAOURSSIT

2007-10-24T11:54:00.001+02:00

There I was near Timimoun, and you know what? So was Ali Booba! We were at the same ahallil party for marabout Sidi (pronounced 'seedy') Somethingorother's birthday, probably humming the same tune, under the stars a Taourssit. Everybody here at Timimoun knows Ali Booba and they are all willing to take me to him, even to his house. But I keep getting that encouraging inch allah. What do you think happened? Allah ghaleb: god had other plans!

It was a great party by the way. Nothing could have been more exotic and wonderful. If you thought Star Wars was spectacular, try one of these outdoor gatherings that occupy a whole oasis with transic rythms. You'll find yourself transposed into another world, and no need for special effect, even if some do indulge in certain natural herbs.

But, getting back to my real purpose in this amazing country, I'm up to my armpits in frustration in a land where absolutely nothing goes as planned. And it isn't always for the better! South, that's where I'm headed now. And, for a change, that should mean cooler weather.

A trying to stay zen,

Jack Stack.

I WILL SURVIVE

2007-10-18T17:40:00.001+02:00

Sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. I sincerely hope you did not believe everything I wrote on my last post. It was meant to deceive a certain party. I am now where I belong and will always do my best to be.

3500 dirhams were the price to pay to get here, beyond boarders that are not meant to be crossed. May I not be discovered, inch allah! I have not yet come about what I set out for, but I am making progress on a certian Ali ibn Boubaker, who can supposedly give me a hand.

I will tell you no more for the moment, except that I am not at Béchar, nor Taghit - pronounced Târ-eat.

May Allah be with us all a little while longer,

Jack Stack.

BLOCKED AT MERZOUGA

2007-10-07T10:18:00.003+02:00

Tangers, Fez, Marrakech, Ouarzazate, Tinghir, Tinejdad, and now Merzouga. After having gone deeper and deeper into unknown territory, for me, I've been given the slip with no change in return.

With indications like: third date tree in the north palm grove, turn left at the crippled camel; 100 donkey steps to the right during the third prayer of the day, it's a wonder I'm having problems catching up with Ali B. Now I'm at Merzouga, facing the first dunes of the great desert and, somehow, I've apparently missed him by a week, go figure.

He's now in Algeria somewhere and I won't be able to follow him in cause I don't have a visa and because the border is closed by terrestrial routes. Also, and I'm sorry to say this, but I'm not about to go traipsing across the freakin' desert after a guy who's got ants in his pants -maybe even a few scorpions, by the size of the leaps he's been making!

I feel as though I have failed you all, and Richard T especially. I'd best avoid public transport from here on in. It should be safer getting back.

A disappointed,

JS.

LOST 'N' FOUND

2007-10-05T21:32:00.001+02:00

I don't know how they did it, but they did. So it was time to get out of there!

After missing my contact in Casablanca, the wrong people got on my trail in Marrakech. Hundreds of folks at Jemma El Fna; a few Touaregs were grossly outnumbered by the more colorful Tourists. Some guy with a snake in his hand starts coming after me. It was after f'tour time (the evening breakfast during Ramadan, taken at sundown) and I figured I could escape him in the narrow winding alleys of the babouche souk. "Hey mister! Mister!" Acting like he was just another obnoxious street hustler, huh. My gettaway was a tad too efficient: in losing him I also lost myself and didn't find my way back till morning.

I didn't dare go back to my hotel by the cut-throat passage, where they were sure to be waiting for me with their sabers. Sure to turn me into a kebab, with or without fries on the side. So I haggled my local clothes, djelaba and babouches, for something more discreet: jeans, D+G belt, Nikes and an 'I love Morocco' t-shirt bearing a pretty flower with a long pistil poppin' out of it instead of the 'o's. Oh, and Gucci shades. All of those were authentic, and at an authentically low price when we were through bargaining. It's a good thing I always have my wallet and passport on me 'cause I got my ass on the first cab outta there.

Somebody wants 2D and 3D destroyed. That's right. It's the only plausible explanation I can come up with to explain why I am still alive in this adventure. They're using me to find the manuscripts! So now they know I'm onto them. But, I've probably had my buttocks seated in front of this computer longer than I should, for my own good.

Bye!

J.S.

CLOUDS OVER CASA

2007-10-03T01:02:00.000+02:00

Someone was going to meet me at the train station: the head of the train, a peasant wearing a dark djelaba, pointed hood over his head. There turned out to be several stops at Casa. I was there at each one. He was at 'Des Facultés' a station where the train it don't stop! How was I to know this? What was I supposed to do; yeehahhh! it by hanging out the door to grab the black plastic bag he was holding out as the train passed him by? I first would have had to know we were arriving at that station. Since the speakers in the train - at least my compartment - weren't working, and if they had been they wouldn't have announced a halt they weren't going to make, then... Get my drift?

What am I doing here? Where am I going with this?

Jack Stack.

DEATH ON THE BOOBA TRAIL

2007-09-30T22:25:00.001+02:00

Rachid, alias Richard, is no longer with us. My Fez informant confimed his passing away just before my departure. What was first diagnosed as bad indigestion by hospital officials, turned out to be pernicious poisoning. The sardines were fresh, as Tanger has them from the sea to your plate, so something must have been fishy with the bearnaise, something that wasn't called for in a stomach-friendly recipe.

In view of the danger I seem to have gotten myself into, once again, I prefer to inform you of my whereabouts only once I am no longer there. Makes sense? Well it will have to do. What is so important about 2D and 3D that people are to give their lives, unwillingly I presume, so that they are never found? That's what I'd like to know too. Did D know what was in store for me when he sent me out on this mission? Is the cause in proportion to the risk incurred? I'm beginning to get a tad shaky in the knees and...Why am I doing this? I'm beginning to comprehend the full depth of inshallah!

Rachid, by the way, was an old acquaintence of our Richard's, el hamdo le-llah. They'd met during the hip 'n' happenin' days of Tangers. Too bad I never got to talk to him. Or, maybe I did without knowing it?

Otherwise, let me tell you, this is a beautiful country so far: rolling hills, cedar and pine forests, majestic mountains, lots of agriculure too (I now know where they grow all those plastic bags), the medinas are a nest of life, etc, etc, etc. But seriously, they could solve the unemployment problem here if they set people to clean up the towns and fields.

Well I gots the runs, so...
Yours faithfully,

Jack Stack.

TANGER-DANGER

2007-09-24T02:05:00.002+02:00

I'm hungry! The lead on Ali Booba is taking me on a starvation route. For I am presently in muslim country, right at the peak of Ramadan. Out of respect for the natives, and great fear of being lynched, I too am not eating. I also have little choice : no food is served anywhere from sunrise till sunset! What could be worse? What could be better, I say. It's an all night food fest. Couscous and tagine galor! I can't tell yet whether it's a great new way to lose weight or a one way ticket to obesity. If my regularity ever comes back - the johns I've visited are in no way an incentive for relief - I might be in a position to conclude on that. I'll keep you posted.

This ancient spy nest still smells like an old extinguished reefer, but, lucky for me, its network is still intact. I can't say for sure I comprehend fully how it functions, 'cause whenever you have a problem here there is always someone to help you out with everything you may need - except that! But a note did make its way into my room, so somewhere along the line I must have over-bakchiched the right person. I will leave tomorrow.

It isn't difficult to understand how this place, Little Socco in particular, inspired the likes of Tenessee Williams, Kerouac, and the Rolling Stones. A dark excitement roams here like...like...like the afterscent of...yes, an old reefer - chocolate, they call it here.

Hasta luego, inshallah!

Jack Stack

THE LEAK

2007-09-04T22:56:00.000+02:00

This has nothing to do with plumbing, or inner tubes!

I have it through the utmost secret sources that the sneak who made that comment about the Barlin posting was none other than, and get this, the infamous agent Bell Bottoms. Well, one more puppet I'm gonna have to shake, rattle and cut loose from it's strings.

You sense the kind of danger I'm in? It's enough to make me want to leave the country again —make that the continent!

Toodaloo,

Jack Stack.

GET IT WHILE IT'S HOT

2007-08-16T17:19:00.001+02:00

It's been a while since I wrote anything for you — I know! For reasons you can't imagine, and I can't explain, it was obligatory.

What I can tell you about is a dream I had the other night: this boy was selling Dickster
on a street corner, like they used to do in the old days with newspapers. His rap went something like this, "Dickster! Dickster! Read alllll about it." Every now and then people would stop and say "Yeah, but I don't read books." or "I'm not allowed to read things like that." or even "I'll wait for the movie, kid". The adolescent would answer "But this is just the book for you!
-Oh yeah?
- It's a true, thrilling mafia crime story. And it's got big one syllable words in it. Plus, it's got suspense. Plus, babes. Plus, twisted metaphysics everyone can understand, all wrapped up in…
-Uh, hun.
-demystifying, comic erotica.
-What's that?
-Kinky sex? Whaddo I know, I'm illiterate. Come on, buy one; my feet are killing me and I haven't eaten all day.
-Okay, how much is it?
-It's free.
-I'll take one!
-Here's your change.
-Hey better give me another five thousand copies, or so; Christmas is coming and I'm feeling generous…"

Yeah, what a nightmare. I decided to wake up before another client came around and I was completely broke.

It could be some time before I'm able, once again, to write anything on the blog. People, and Anna, who was kind enough to want info about a translation, please be patient: times are rough!

Jack Stack.

THE STACK IS BACK

2007-06-21T16:14:00.001+02:00

You can't imagine how bloody insane it's been for me to stay alive. Try this: I found a place with no internet, not even a computer!

The Sevens is a beautiful region, at least. After that brief encounter at Bag 'N' Tell. I had to find a place to lie low for a while. Castle Break was great, but I was always on the go and didn't have time to eat. Yes, I did drink a lot, but not anything alcoholic, like might suggest an anonymous reader that was thoughtful enough to leave me a message on his own fantasy trip to Barlin. Anyways… Now that I know what it's like to be a fish, I seriously have to get down to earth and pig out.

Later,

Jack Stack.

PS: Keep this hush-hush, but I will be at Pat Laplante-Collins' on Sunday. Don't fret, highly effective and incredibly discrete security measures will be taken to assure everyone's safety.

Code Word: IRIS

2007-05-11T15:50:00.001+02:00

Just had a brief encounter with Interpol, at Bagatelle. A Diabolic agent crossed my path, but I whiffed him out before he got sight of me. As soon as Golden Shower came around, I knew it was time to leave.

That's all I can say; that, and I'm happy to still be alive.

Still going strong,

Jack Stack.

ESCAPE FROM BARLIN

2007-05-08T11:10:00.000+02:00

Jack is back!

Great beer. And cheap too! The food ain't the worst, and the currywurst ain't bad either. Hey, I gotta admit, I'll try just about anything once.

Does that sound like a trip in vain? It wasn't completely fruitless, even if I did stuff myself with pork. What does that mean? Diddly-squat and hogwash. I waited hours in a biergarten, in the Tiergarter, for an informant that never showed. Two kilos of fleish later, and after having pissed a river whose acid content would have neutralized a battalion of ducks, I opted to jump into a cycle cab at Siegessaule and get the hell outta there! Yeah, these wacko looking thugs with mohawks showed up and headed in my direction, after getting another look at some photo. Maybe they just wanted an autogragh? Like I was gonna stick around to find out!

I fear a chance like this might not come about in a long time. I feel like I have let you and D down. May the tarot cards be more in my favor next time.

You think that's bad? The outcome could have been much worse. That is something my informant has just let me in on. Having gone to the wrong biergarten in that huge park saved my life! All kinds of questions as to what went wrong, and what in the heavens I'm talking about must be going through that bright brain of yours. In this very special situation and for more secret reasons, I have no choice but to let you assume —although you usually never should— what really happened, in its most gruesome details.

Well, gotta keep on living!

Jack Stack.

D DRINK

2007-04-29T09:24:00.000+02:00

Since I might not make it back from Barlin, I figured I'd better give you the recipe for Dickster's cocktail — I know, it sounds redundant. This powerful concoction is not to be taken alone!

- D dose of vodka
- creamy, unctuous coconut milk
- a big 'n' bold banana
- as prime a pear as you can get your hands on
- a plush pineapple
- generous ginger
- D secret ingredient

Blenderize it all and pour it on the rocks or crushed cubes, if you have the balls!

I tried it with rhum and found it to be advantageously aphrodisiac. Vodka is more conducive to a destructive aftertaste, I found. As for the secret ingredient, could it be the bottle labelled 'OOZE' that I found in the bar?

Jack Stack.

THE BOOBA TIP

2007-04-22T20:33:00.000+02:00

Hey guys and gals, whoever's out there,

I just got a lead on Ali Booba!

So I deem a little side trip to Bar-lin will be necessary, under the circumstances. I pray the almighty D up in the heavens I'm not falling into a trap, like he did once. But what can you do? It's only by going there that I'll find that out.

Someone who bought something in an store up there — Barlin — told me that the guy he got it from does business with a man who holds an emporium, somewhere in Africa, who said one of his buyers deals with a merchant who's apparently supplied in goods by a caravan leader who ounce bumped into another caravan leader, in the desert, whose camels had been supplied by Booba Enterprises. How 'bout that!

I'll let you know how that goes; if it isn't a hoax, or a devious plot to liquidate me.

While I'm there, and on my way to Barlin, I've been dismantling The D-pad — Dickster's apartement — and I've come across a cocktail he'd invented, probably for the babes he brought home. It was cleverly hidden on the underside of the mixer. I've tried it and it's darn tootin' good. If you want the recipe, just let me know.

Oh, and wish me luck!

Jack Stack.

PEOPLE'S CRITIQUE

2007-04-05T17:13:00.000+02:00

The first feedback from readers has started pouring in:

"It's the male equivalent to Bridget Jones' Diary." - Kooki B.

"I had it with me all weekend. It's funny. (…) I started getting a headache." - Judy N.

"...art...clever use of language... It's gonna have a cult following..." - Mike S.

"I'm talking the way you write!" - Martin L.

"The book's right next to our bed.(!)" - B and S McE.

"It's HUGE. Nothing is (as in could be!) bigger than Dickster." - Someone I met in a dream.

"Shocking! There were times I couldn't put it down." - A woman scientist who read it all! and also keeps it beside her bed.

"Un roman corrosif!" - J-P R. of the CCC.

"I like the way D communicates with the reader. It's funny. Very eloquent." - Ken Doll.

Well, it sounds pretty good so far. I hope the late Richard Travelle is pleased.

Truely,

Jack Stack.

1st CRITIQUE

2007-03-18T14:38:00.000+01:00

Lo and behold, what had to happen did!

The Paris Times has given 'Dickster' it's first real critique, in their 'expat corner' of the 16th edition, March 2007, you can read —can't you?:

'…the first part of a riotous trilogie…'

Cool beans! That sounds about right to me. What do you think?

THE D IS OUT!

2007-03-17T16:03:00.000+01:00

It's official. The 14th of March, the eve of the ides, the CCC launched 'Dickster' into the world, and we had a great time. The lecture hall was full, and the fans were amusingly curious, prying for answers that could have gotten me eliminated like D.

Here's the info that was divulged thanks to J-P King of the Raîche, acting as master of ceremonies.

-They obviously wanted to know if The Meaty Monster was as gynormous as D had pertained it to be: roughly 5% of his body weight! My answer was an affirmative, noting also the symbolics behind it: how it shunned out the rest of his life.

-I also had to just the language and content of the book that can be vulgar and shocking at times: like life is always a pleasant stroll through the park! It was also a strategy of his that is exploited by great authors or film directors, like Alejandro Jodorosky and Guillermo Arriaga.

-They wanted to know how he died. You, who's been following the blog since the beginning should know that!

-How did D and I meet? I was doing an article for the seedy 'people' Canadian press on 'les folles nuits parisiennes', many years ago. D was part of it. (I'm being very blunt, but I can't get into all the D-tails that went into the one hour interview.

-I read some extracts from the book, including a mysterious manuscript I'd found in his bag. From the looks of it, it seemed to belong to 3D: its syle was radically different from 1D.

-All in all, what came out of the jovial interrogation was D's oh-so-unusual spiritual path that was a spicy blend of Austin Powers, Trainspotting, Inspector Cluzeau, with Rocco Siffredi and Gandhi battling it out for the leading role!

You should have been there!

Then when had drinks, and I signed a bunch of books.

The perfect evening!

J.S.

TIME TO BUY THE BOOK

2007-03-09T15:55:00.000+01:00

All Right, folks!

This is it. Here's where 'Dickster' is available so far, in France:

THE ABBEY BOOKSHOP 29, rue de la Parcheminerie, 75005 Paris
THE VILLAGE VOICE 6, rue Princesse, 75006 Paris
THE RED WHEELBARROW 22, rue Saint Paul, 75004 Paris
SHAKESPEARE & COMPANY 37, rue de la Bûcherie, 75005
MILLESPAGES 174, rue de Fontenay, Vincennes

The best thing about going to buy the books there is the beautiful people who work in them. I won't name them. You'll have to go over there and meet them yourselves. That's right, you're gonna have to make the first step cause the internet site thedicksterdimension.com is not ready yet. Sorry!

Well gotta go prepare for the launch.

Jack Stack.

D's NOT DEAD!

2007-03-01T13:10:00.000+01:00

That's right! Just like Punk, Rock 'n' Roll, and the Greatest Story Ever Told, Dickster lives on. Don't forget it!

Dickster is everywhere. He's in you. He's in me. He's everywhere. D will never die. His aura is too huge and consuming. I am penetrated by Him –and yes, I will continue to give Him a capital 'H', for I now understand. I have discovered a scribbled paper in His things that was most enlightening.

You have a dick? That's maybe where you'll find Him, whether it be humongous or not. You don't have a crotch? You're probably a woman then, but don't be fooled, 'cause you do have a masculine side, a male identity roaming inside you that you have or not discovered, and it's got a dick!

Now you may not associate Dickster to that part of your anatomy. I did for a long time, but D isn't just that. D, after having gone to my head, is in my heart. Maybe one day you'll find Him there too; it's a wonderful feeling.

No, He is not godly. He isn't even a prophet. He made a step, a gigantic leap. If you knew His story –I hope to uncover it for humanity–… I can't even fathom it all. But you know what? I don't have to. I have seen, heard and felt it. His experience transpires like an energy field. If He'd have walked into a crowded stadium with all the lights out, everyone would have noticed. Why? How? It's unexplainable. But True!

D has transcended death. D is a brand new hope, a beacon of life. 1D portrays his 'sex symbol' years. Many years later, when He'd finally got a grip on His balls, He came back new and improved. Respect, man. Respect. Not only could you look up to Him, but He was humble, powerfully humble. D'd become a Gandhi of the soul. All right, I'm exaggerating a little. But I swear? He had more power in the tip of his little finger than any man wtih an entire army, and nuclear weapons to boot, at his disposition.

Why isn't there world peace then? The only viable answer I could come up with is: men are scaredy cats! That's why they did Him in. They wanted Him dead 'cause He was going to rock their cushy world, and the happiness that would have followed… Well, maybe, thinking they didn't deserve it, they figured their peice of the happy pie would go to someone else. They didn't have the balls for joy! They are weak and to be pitied. They need compassion, love; it's the only thing that can save them.

Believe me, D is out there! He's doing His big bit, and those of you who catch on to His message will escape persecution and hardships of all kinds. You think I'm insane? I'm pleased with myself. It may not be bliss just yet, but I'm lighter and much happier from having met Dickster. I, the atheist who always will be, believe in Dickster!

I'm declaring the ides of November, the 13th of November, the new D-Day. We will all have a day off to commemorate what Dickster stands for: liberation from within!

Signing out,

Jack Stack.

P.S. Don't forget to come to the CCC (Canadian Cultural Center, 5 rue Constantinople, Paris 75007) on March 14th, the eve of the ides, at 20:00. I will present 1D and give you some insight as to what must be in 2D and 3D.

PRINTING MADNESS

2007-02-06T10:54:00.000+01:00

Have you ever had a book printed? Well let's just say it's incredible in more ways than one. You think the writing process was the hard part, but then… But I am seeing the end of it now and I am thrilled.

You know what else is exciting? Dickster's and mine homeland is going to honor us with the lauching of 'Dickster' at the Canadian Cultural Centre in Paris. Why Paris? Cause Paris is a beautiful city where people have fantastic taste. Also, the guy who runs the joint is a real cool cat with a really open mind. J-P Raiche, himself, will be hosting the soirée that will begin at 20:00 hours promptly. I will be there to represent Dickster The Late.You are all welcome, so come join us for drinks and a cocktail afterwards. The novel will be available and I will gladly scribble my signature on it if you so desire.

The search for Ali B will resume afterward. I first have to raise the necessary funds for a trip, 'cause it seems I will not find him here, and you have been lousy help so far.

And so the world turns,

Jack Stack.

AMAZING NEWS!

2006-12-24T19:05:00.000+01:00

I, Jack Stack, have found a publisher for the book, the first… uh, last one, I believe. I have yet to find 2D and 3D.

This is correct, you need not doubt your reading skills. A marvellous man who once had a… let's say 'special reputation' has decided DICKSTER would bear the name and crest of his publishing house. Jim Haynes is the man. Handshake Editions is the lucky winner publishing house that's going to do the honors.

A proud man I am. I many be going nowhere slower than before in finding Ali Booba, but for now that's gonna have to be on standby. Some printing has to be done first! I found The Orangeman's address, and he insists on doing the cover. BONUS!!!

Gotta dash! I'm an even busier man hence.

Jack Stack.

THE TORCH HAS BEEN RELAYED

2006-12-05T15:52:00.000+01:00

Upon his deathbed, Richard Travelle, Dickster entrusted me with his mission. "Use the blog. My story must be told. Search for 2D and 3D. Find Ali Booba; he is the missing link."(?) Those were his last words!

Before his final garlic breath, he made me pledge: I, Jack Stack, promised to do whatever I could to make sure I revealed the real Dickstmeister, the man who'd left western society, ages ago, to come back a changed man. A man I could barely recognize. A real man I can now say I am proud to have known.

His ashes, mixed with the heavy rain drops, sprayed over the city below the Sacred Heart on that dark and thunderous afternoon.

I am now a man with a quest: Deliver Dickster!

Where to start? If only Perceval were here to help me!

If any of you feel like play private dic, or if you have any idea of the possible whereabouts of this Ali Booba, please leave me a message on the blog.

Sincerely,

Jack Stack.

FADE TO BLACK

2006-11-26T11:13:00.000+01:00

To all of those around the world who knew him.

I realize how shocking this will sound to you. For this to happen to a man who'd come so far, after having gone even further…

It was just before midnight when we were interrupted in our work by a knock at the door.

A man who'd finally grown to make a difference: his difference. All is ended…

One might say it happened on the ides; another would consider it to have happened on the eve of the ides.

November rain took its own sweet time coming. Now my tears and those of all who cherished him are nourishing the land. Countless mascara-painted cheeks!
BLACK. Black is what is usually considered correct. Black on reddened cheeks - regardless of origins…

00:00 hundred hours tolls the murderous doorbell.

But Black must not be sad. Black is the darkness when the lights go out. Black encompasses all. And how much fun have we all had during power failures? If we omit the traumatizing emprisonment of being locked up in a broom closet, by a sadistic family member or 'friend', I'm sure that, if not as a child, then certainly as an adult, you've all had great moments in total darkness. Let me help you: pin the tail on the donkey is great fun at all ages!…

Dickster, Dickmeister, Dicky… Richard Travelle is dead.

Many of you did not get to see him since his return, so let me tell you, you wouldn't have recognized him. A knew glow adorned him. A man who'd learned to overcome his alter ego and learned to love. A new greatness was within him: a greatness of liberty. His journey was extensive. Many years had passed since the guy you'd last known as always 'coming' finally went away. He once left for better, now he's gone for good!

We want tears of joy during what's left of November! Be happy for the man who came to rise at every occasion. His passing away was his salvation; it is our loss.

Signing out for the late maestro who's aura lives on, humbly yours,

Jack Stack.

RUN AWAY!!!

2006-11-02T15:42:00.000+01:00

I hope you all are alive and well!

Shroomland, as delicious as it was, started getting a tad dangerous: bomb attacks getting more and more precise. It's not that we were paranoid or anything, but… you know. Fat chance they would have got us. With all the rebel training I've endured, they could've blasted away for all I cared!

But when you go to the country for some peace and quiet, and to get a little work done… Why put up with all the ruckus? So we're back, escaping —while we have to— my nitwit cousins! Ah, the civilized world: Ulcer Heaven!

Just a quick goodbye to Cool Mel.

And now to you: always keep an eye in the sky, an eye on the ground, an eye behind you, an eye way out ahead, and one just in front —you never know. For those who are not used to assassins, it's best to travel in groups.

Toodaloo!

CruiseLand hideout

2006-10-20T13:40:00.000+02:00

Hello out there,

I am terribly sorry for the long silence, but my situation has become increasingly alarming. My collaborator and I thought it best to isolate ourselves out in the boonies. Finding a sufficiently remote spot took some time, and we are completely cut off from the outside world now. We have been working at full throttle for a couple of days and, if all goes well, we shall see the end of the book by the end of the month. I must take leave of you though and get back to work: time may not really exist, but the human clock is ticking!

Time for a quicky

2006-10-08T19:57:00.000+02:00

Hi

Is there anybody out there?

It has become much too dangerous for me here. I came back in order to claim what was mine, for I wanted to transform something that was all wrong and make some good of it, 'inch Allah!' I am not certain I will get that chance anymore. If I can at least finish the book first, before Bubba finds me, I will have that satisfaction.

We are being watched at all times: I can't even go to the window. My collaborator has even been bullied around a couple of times and had his flat turned upside-down. They are now threatening to do some vile things to some of his girlfriends. Why does he stay? That's something he must figure out for himself.

How should I interpret the outcome of my return to the occidental world? Is there no place for the man I've become? Or is it I who has failed to make myself undersood? Did I, or do I want to? My values have strayed so far from the capitalistic way. Am I percieved as one who's come to rock the boat?

I'm afraid that's all I have time for. Besides, I don't even know if anyone is reading this and if I should continue.

Laborious rap

2006-09-22T15:24:00.000+02:00

I am finding it difficult to dig through the years into my hazy youth. Putting this episode of my life down on paper is obliging me to relate to the struggles that would have otherwise lead to an early death. Yes, as odd as it may seem, the comfort I'd found in the carefree years was actually killing me. The horror of reality was the turning point that made me change paths and finally start living. You could say I was praising the wrong 'god'. Money and sex were the scapegoat that captivated my energy. Seeing as how both came easy —feel free to interpret that loosely— my soul was trapped: I was in dire need of a dickotomy!

Welcome to the World of Dickster

2006-09-05T17:19:00.000+02:00

Hi,

Please excuse me for taking so long in giving a sign of life.

My name is Dickster. A good friend of mine, The Orangeman, strongly suggested I get in touch with you. I really am not a technology oriented person. Why allow myself to be discovered in this way? I have a story to tell. In fact, it is almost all written. Two volumes of D Thrilogy are complete. The Orangeman will be putting D Thrilogy on the net and is working on the site: thedicksterdimension.com.

Why not have it published? I am only me. Nothing matters except life.

Dickster is coming...

2006-08-19T14:08:00.000+02:00

Dickster is coming...