Agents of T.I.T.A.N. continue their work, investigating the whenabouts of the original Chris Titan, long missing.

Some of my friends might notice in my style…

a blatant rip off of Burroughs…

2004-10-30

Some of my old friends will recall a very strange day I had when I saw Eleven Crows on a telephone pole outside my house, and, as I passed the pole, neighbor ladies informed me of a very intrusive break-in.

I, too, was robbed.

But it was not for days and days I until I realized that the junkie had stolen my TOP HAT. This was an affront; I could stand losing the chinese throwing stars and the bag of weed, but the TOP HAT that I obtained through magickal means to signify that I was indeed a master, long before I had actually possesed the oriental chair…

The junkie had the nerve to wear my hat, for days, while he rode his bike… and the only ass fucks on bikes at night are junkies on the make… in a hardcore, Masonic, old boys town like Eureka, California…

And I am just an affiliate from the swamp lands…

2004-09-23

one eye slowly opens.

The wooden bench is cutting into the back muscles where Chris is slumped, now half-conscious.

A bald man with a leather apron on pokes Chris with a stick. “You can’t sleep in here, buddy” he growls “move it outside or I will move it for you.”

“I didn’t serve you any liquor, either” he squinted meanly, “ and you stink of being freshly drunk…where is your bottle, fella?”

Fat hands grab Chris by the collar and drag his limp body off the bench and from behind the table. A quick brisk rub down reveled no bottle. With a knee in his back Chris was abruptly led to the door by the Barkeep and thrown out into the street.

Tumbling down the wooden steps, Chris fell to his knees and skidded on his chaps. Chaps that just the day before belonged to another man who had to sacrifice his clothes and his life for his unwelcome interest in a dazed and naked Chris Titan semi-conscious on an outcropping of rocks.

the collar

The man had to sacrifice his clothes and down the wooden steps Chris fell. “your bottle, fella? What did Fat hands mean by that.?” Chris Titan’s semi-conscious limp body grabbed by the collar and with a knee in his back pushed out into the street. Tumbling he slumped in a close alley way, now dazed and off the bench and out the door, stinking of being freshly drunk…didn’t get served you any liquor, rub down reveled no bottle…but how? He could not remember. Pain cutting into the back muscles where Chris was poked with a stick. Half-conscious, he squinted meanly, a quick brisk glance at his life with one eye. Slowly he growls

slumped

growls “the procedure! It’s your fault anyway”, now dazed and limp, body muscles trembling with one eye squinted ,. Slowly he glance at his life He could not remember… only that Pain is taking time! but how? does that length of time

he growls

…but how? stinking of time… after a set length of time…clothes reveled his length of time. body muscles limp, Pain cutting into his back, pushed out onto Pain street. Should this fault occur it does not remember… but He could … only that the procedure is Half-conscious… semi-conscious … He could not remember… trembling in and out of his time! how? does that length

Should this occur

it does not mean that there is a fault, only that the procedure is taking its time!

mean that there is a…a set length of time…the length of the page…but how? remember… but the page after there is a semi-conscious fault. it does not occur … only the procedure is Half-conscious… length of time., only time. is taking its time!