Our curiosities about one another are equal…

1/6/2015

A most happy and prosperous New Year to you all.

This past holiday season has been a very…how can I say this? Excellent escape, from my day to day life…from payday work…from office politics and from stifled thinking. While the weather was less than touristic, the lack of sunshine brought its own gifts with marvelous fog-scapes across the surface of the lake, enough rain to make the inside more inviting…just perfect for hours and hours of research and writing. It created the perfect atmosphere of, “I don’t care because I’m on vacation’ and yet, ‘everything matters, because I also know it will never last’.

The book is now at 400 pages and we have yet to finish scratching at the true surface of the ritualistic style killings of our unholy triad. Much to my surprise, another set of new names have graced the overlay of this case. How many more victims will surface before we finish with the Route 66 tour of our demented docents?

Do you know a Glenda…or a Dreanna? Apparently they did, although shortly after introductions…nobody ever would again. The more I learn the more of 20th century law enforcement, it frightens me that their seem to be those behind the badge who are truly gifted investigators and then there are the rest of them…doing the job, marking time…missing the finer points of intent. But then again, killers are not the same these days; their intents are more basic- primitive-banal…devoid of intellect and inspiration.

I may have been wrong about these killers in one sense. One has to almost awe at their staying power…their sense of dedication to detail and dogma. Unfortunately for them, it will also be their downfall. Dedication to detail breeds obsession…obsession breeds repetitive actions…repetitive actions breeds opportunity for patterns…patterns gifts us with segues…segues to identities. This is the chain of investigation; the chain that binds the victims to their killers and in turn provides those with keen enough eyes a chance to pick at the chinks in their armor.

Armored histories made of tiny bits of metal that connect motive to desired outcome…outcome to desired destiny… and destiny to divination. This is what will hang these men- those who still breathe and walk this earth. To them…think of your long life in the sunshine of freedom as Hell’s greatest gift; the longer you live free, the more you have to remember bound. Torture is always about confinement, but it can end that way.

Scholastic endeavors beckon next week and a new production calls–together they will eat away at the time I have to wander amongst my notes. Normally that would bother me- the crimping of time and yet, I have been promised that this lull will provide the space to make further discovery and connections that I can add to a larger arsenal of evidence for when the true battle begins. Thank God for attorneys and ideal readers- they keep the manuscript alive and in circulation behind the veil of full disclosure.

Looking at recently retrieved evidence, the patterns remind me of the punched slots on old time piano players scores, but the tune this piano plays will be like the sirens call to those who missed it the first go around. You see ritual is a double edged sword; sometimes quite literally.

You see…life is a series of ritualistic behaviors: brushing our teeth, tying our shoes, wiping ourselves when we’re done with the refuse of our existence. Killers are the same- they have patterns too- especially when they are done with the refuse of their existence.

That being said…I was warned that I will be be under somebody’s watched this month- spied upon if you will and I expect that, with so many agendas in the mix.

Our curiosities about one another are equal… the outcome I leave to spirit.

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