Rev Roger, Sermon #75: Lurking Bastards and Ranting to an Empty Room

[Slurrealist]

It works for me, so, maybe it will work for you.
What about turning off the mind?
What if instead of sitting and thinking what to write, turn off the stream of thought, enjoy the emptiness, and let the words roll from free?

[East Coast Hustle]

Then you usually end up with some second-rate Joyce ripoff (and Joyce was second-rate to start with) stream-of-consciousness crapheap.

Unless you're Sepia, and lately I get the sense that even he's having trouble making that schtick continue to work.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

The only thing in my head these days is shit like what happened to the un-googleable compound that used to exist out around 52nd and Foster, and why has nobody heard of it?

What is the deal with the other compound, the one up Old Germantown Road, with the tanks and the goats?

What's down that hole, and where is the cave that the boarding school boy died in back in the 1950's?

Why does the ground behind The Grotto feel hollow, and what did those geometrical shapes used to be? Why can't I look that up? What IS that up the cliff?

Why are there places with buildings down the river that you can't get to by road?

And where, where, where is my concubine?

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

What IS that living up Firelane 12? Why is that one big fancy house always empty? Why is Mr. Rock the only one who seems to know or care about the feral people? Nobody is listening, Mr. Rock, they don't want to know, you can stop writing about it now.

We know not to go to the encampment behind the U-Pull-It. We just don't talk about why.

Remember what happened in Cathedral Park? We all knew, for years. We didn't know who and we didn't know where, we just knew not to go down there. We couldn't get anyone to believe in it. And I mean, it was just homeless kids, right? Easier to just look away. And we don't go down the ravine where the tracks cut through on their way to the trestle bridge. We don't even see it.

[Slurrealist]

The only thing in my head these days is shit like what happened to the un-googleable compound that used to exist out around 52nd and Foster, and why has nobody heard of it?

What is the deal with the other compound, the one up Old Germantown Road, with the tanks and the goats?

What's down that hole, and where is the cave that the boarding school boy died in back in the 1950's?

Why does the ground behind The Grotto feel hollow, and what did those geometrical shapes used to be? Why can't I look that up? What IS that up the cliff?

Why are there places with buildings down the river that you can't get to by road?

And where, where, where is my concubine?

IMO, every thought has a potential to develop into an intriguing story.

Then you usually end up with some second-rate Joyce ripoff (and Joyce was second-rate to start with) stream-of-consciousness crapheap.

You can also work with them. First, you write the thoughts down, and then you try to see something interesting, to see a new connection, or a new pattern. Like Order from Chaos.

[Cain]

It works for me, so, maybe it will work for you.
What about turning off the mind?
What if instead of sitting and thinking what to write, turn off the stream of thought, enjoy the emptiness, and let the words roll from free?

All I'm going to say is if you go down this route, use much the same advice given to people who like to write under the influence: remember to edit afterwards.

That said, I'm now much more interested in what Nigel is talking about.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Portland has a weird, creepy underbelly that isn't easily uncovered. We're all so happy here, it's so green, you see?

So green, and so clean, and so many bridges, and that big big park, and some weird fucking shit that nobody ever, ever talks about. Shit that sometimes, everybody knows about, but nobody talks about. Until finally someone won't shut the fuck up and they have to go exhume the bodies under the bridge and suddenly we know where all the street kids were disappearing to.

I really want to know about that compound, though. It was all these dilapidated shacks surrounded by an extra-tall chain-link fence that was completely covered with corrugated fiberglass sheeting so you couldn't see in. You could just get a glimpse of the shacks through the gate when it was open.

[Cain]

Didn't Portland have, like a lot of Neo-Nazis, back in the day?  They're the kind of people who seem to like compounds, maybe some are looking to move back in.  God only knows why, given what I understand of the culture of the city nowadays, but then no-one said they were smart Neo-Nazis.  Probably didn't even know who Julius Evola was.

Cultists are always a good second bet, and more in keeping with the current vibe of Portland, too.  You should see if you can infiltrate the building.  Bring cookies, claim you're new to the neighbourhood and looking to introduce yourself, and hope they're not into human sacrifice or anything.

[EK WAFFLR]

Didn't Portland have, like a lot of Neo-Nazis, back in the day? 

They still have this guy: hxxp://www.jack-donovan.com/axis/

[Nephew Twiddleton]

You know, Roger, screaming into the void is looking like the preferable option these days. Threads that make it past a couple pages now seem to fall squarely into one of three categories: Troll, In-Fighting, or vapid mittens. I'd rather see one of your rants at a single page than see any more of those threads.

I'm sitting here, staring at the screen, hoping something more will occur to me write, because I'd rather not be guilty of that very thing. But it simply isn't working that way. And that's my personal failing, and I am unsure how to fix it. I'd like to post much more in the way of content, but the simple fact is I am not capable of producing content on demand. Hell, Roger, I've been writing you a letter for the past 7 months and It's barely a page yet. And again, that is all on me.

i decided a little while ago that I wouldn't post as often unless I could actually contribute to a discussion or post content or something, but so far it is not working out in my favor. My ratio hasn't improved at all, I simply post less. And then I start to wonder if that is for the best. What little content I have contributed doesn't really seem to jive with y'all's (not that I plan on stopping posting content, mind you).  

Eh. Either way, I'm still here, and I'll post when the mood strikes me. I'm all rambly and incoherent right now, and that means that I'm doing good. (I think). But I s'pose that's enough for now, and I completely refuse to reread what I just wrote, because it probably doesn't make any sense and I'd want to just scrap the whole thing without posting anything at all. Again. Well, fuck that. You're getting my half-formed ideas, fuckers.

Bollocks.

Train thread.<---awesome stuff, and hell, it got me to write a song, spur of the moment, and post the thing on my phone, which is a pain in the ass but I was excited about it.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

It works for me, so, maybe it will work for you.
What about turning off the mind?
What if instead of sitting and thinking what to write, turn off the stream of thought, enjoy the emptiness, and let the words roll from free?

If I wanted to turn off my mind, I'd run out and join a political party.

[East Coast Hustle]

Portland has a weird, creepy underbelly that isn't easily uncovered. We're all so happy here, it's so green, you see?

So green, and so clean, and so many bridges, and that big big park, and some weird fucking shit that nobody ever, ever talks about. Shit that sometimes, everybody knows about, but nobody talks about. Until finally someone won't shut the fuck up and they have to go exhume the bodies under the bridge and suddenly we know where all the street kids were disappearing to.

I really want to know about that compound, though. It was all these dilapidated shacks surrounded by an extra-tall chain-link fence that was completely covered with corrugated fiberglass sheeting so you couldn't see in. You could just get a glimpse of the shacks through the gate when it was open.

Are you talking about the one on 52nd and Duke (I think)? If you are, it's a super-creepy "campground" for some weirdo Jesus cult. I've never seen anyone going in or coming out, ever, and I drive by it fairly frequently. There's no corrugated fiberglass sheeting but there's a tall fence and the cabins definitely qualify as "dilapidated shacks".

Didn't Portland have, like a lot of Neo-Nazis, back in the day? 

Still does. We call them "Officer" now.

[Reginald Ret]

You know, Roger, screaming into the void is looking like the preferable option these days. Threads that make it past a couple pages now seem to fall squarely into one of three categories: Troll, In-Fighting, or vapid mittens. I'd rather see one of your rants at a single page than see any more of those threads.

I'm sitting here, staring at the screen, hoping something more will occur to me write, because I'd rather not be guilty of that very thing. But it simply isn't working that way. And that's my personal failing, and I am unsure how to fix it. I'd like to post much more in the way of content, but the simple fact is I am not capable of producing content on demand. Hell, Roger, I've been writing you a letter for the past 7 months and It's barely a page yet. And again, that is all on me.

i decided a little while ago that I wouldn't post as often unless I could actually contribute to a discussion or post content or something, but so far it is not working out in my favor. My ratio hasn't improved at all, I simply post less. And then I start to wonder if that is for the best. What little content I have contributed doesn't really seem to jive with y'all's (not that I plan on stopping posting content, mind you).  

Eh. Either way, I'm still here, and I'll post when the mood strikes me. I'm all rambly and incoherent right now, and that means that I'm doing good. (I think). But I s'pose that's enough for now, and I completely refuse to reread what I just wrote, because it probably doesn't make any sense and I'd want to just scrap the whole thing without posting anything at all. Again. Well, fuck that. You're getting my half-formed ideas, fuckers.

Bollocks.

Train thread.<---awesome stuff, and hell, it got me to write a song, spur of the moment, and post the thing on my phone, which is a pain in the ass but I was excited about it.

Seconded. Train thread made me feel something. this does not happen often.
TBH i have seen some good activity on the board this last week, but mostly it is hidden on the end of an annoying thread.

[President Television]

You know what's awful?


I sat, at my desk, with at least ten minutes of free time, staring at Wallified's Airplane post, knowing I should grab it and run with it, expanding it, drilling down into it, stretching it out, throwing it at a wall to see what sticks.


And I had nothing.  I couldn't think of a way to say "yes, and..." even as I knew this was one of those moments where we could light a fuse.  

It's like creative impotence.  It's embarassing, and shameful, and mentally debilitating.

So I clicked the "back" button, and hoped someone else could do something.

We're worse than lazy slackers, waiting for something to entertain us.  We're uninspired.



And that, my friends, is death.

I have to admit that I'm guilty of the same thing. I sat in front of Kai's WOW^TM thread for what must have been half an hour, trying to think of a testimonial.
Nothing came. Of course, for me this is standard procedure, but I don't find myself relieved that I'm not the only one. I find it alarming.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Didn't Portland have, like a lot of Neo-Nazis, back in the day?  They're the kind of people who seem to like compounds, maybe some are looking to move back in.  God only knows why, given what I understand of the culture of the city nowadays, but then no-one said they were smart Neo-Nazis.  Probably didn't even know who Julius Evola was.

Cultists are always a good second bet, and more in keeping with the current vibe of Portland, too.  You should see if you can infiltrate the building.  Bring cookies, claim you're new to the neighbourhood and looking to introduce yourself, and hope they're not into human sacrifice or anything.

Portland was rich with Neo-Nazis and also Sharps who would rove the streets looking for Neo-Nazis to pound, and punks who would rove the streets looking for skinheads to pound, and somehow in all of this mess you were supposed to keep track of the color of these fuckers' shoelaces.

Portland is also rich with cults, especially Jesus cults. I heard a rumor once, years ago, that it was some kind of Jesus cult reform "camp", and I desperately want to find information about it but I can't physically find it again (even though it was quite large... at least a couple of acres) so I don't know if it's still around, or exactly where it was if it's gone.

Portland also has had some really strange military bunkers etc. out around the volcanoes, most of which have been demolished or buried, and about which very little information is available. It seems to me that this compound was near one of the buttes. No idea if that could be related.