{Goya no. 34}When Rowland was a child, he heard voices.When he was younger and from what he could remember, he would always wake up to the sound of voices like a far off television amongst the natural white-noise static. His mind was elsewhere as he sat on the floor in half lotus to stop his boney left ankle from painfully scraping and jabbing the floor while he put his head in his hands and spaced out on how he would simply tune out of sleep and the voices would continue until he reached a rather random destination of wherever the voices would be coming from in the echoing darkness, before they would suddenly stop. Always in the living spaces and always in the middle of the night and waking up for no reason in a fuzzy static motion pitch black or cold velvet dark royal blue morning skies darkened by closed curtains, from whispers like someone turned the volume down of the television on a small café scene; and being a child then he would always walk through the darkness like a tired

Rowland was simply trapped in that damn room he called a mind before he opened another large refurbished church door once Nick buzzed him in and he walked up the spiral decorative wrought iron Victorian steps to His Gothic front step. Rowland half expected Him to be by the front door, now passing the modernised yet integrated kitchen and passed the Viking mass on his left in the would-be living room, with that unreadable look on His face; but he then heard music up the classic wooden railed staircase against the wall filled with tribal masks and ancient weapons all the way up to the second floor, he followed the sound of Nick playing an eerie rendition of Damon Albarn's Royal Morning blue in an arpeggio on the harpsichord. Rowland believed it to be a song that came on the radio that one time when he and Nick road around L.A. high on blinky blues and green lights as the sun went down, the tune simply stuck and sort of romantically reminded him of the ocean.It was almost like he was do

{Sibalba del los Mitlan, Interrupted}¦|[Shut down, Format, Restart]|¦|***"-...Oh, Excuse me... I'm getting a report on some breaking news about a large fire within the west San Fernando valley. We'll go live to Los Angeles County, California's Hidden Hills to our correspondent on the scene, Pepper Lin. Good Morning Pepper, can you describe the scene of the fire for us please...""An early morning to you as well, Jeff but not nearly as good within all neighbourhoods as an-a large explosion occurred just minutes after a fire was just spotted by two joggers through the gated community of Hidden Hills this early morning hour, at about two in the morning. The fire department arrived just minutes after and still battling with the blaze, while residence crowd around the scene of what appears to be the Volknov mansion on fire. Police have been called to the scene to control the situation, early eyewitnesses say that no one was seen entering the house but I'm being told that an ambulance is

SaturdayItaly, Fara In SabinaNoonFar far away from the sillouette of castel like clusters of old cozy Florentine homes, just near the outskirts of a small little village spread far out into the quiet European countryside, three hundred square acres of talk wild grass and possible crops seemed like more than enough space to throw a party. The thought of Z and company raising hell in this tranquil slice of la vita made Rowland crack a smile for a moment before he shifted his weight on the floor and rested his gloved hands on his raised knees, so tempted to scratch his stubble. The last time he checked the time on his black plastic kiddies sports watch hidden under black nitrile gloves, the skies were still grey with five a.m. morning light. Obviously after two but just about six, sitting blankly on the checkcard floor of one of Elizabeth's chic guest bathrooms of her prestine and cozy Florentine Villa overlooking budding grape vines with far off birds chirping their early work songs.

Playing the victim role meanwhile the long term plan was to put Nick in a corner but didn't expect Him to act so quickly, as if He would make it that fucking easy. Two large steps a head of the cops and all the while he couldn't stop thinking about what Crowley had said about the old man shopping around rather than attempting to completely overthrow Him, he could think of a few things many wanted. And with all this chat about hidden artifacts hunted by unwanted figures, all he wanted to do right then was listen to a Black Radio record, knowing that all this travel might seem a tad suspicious if anyone was looking. And, jokingly he knew that he could use the excuse that he's a very busy man but, somehow he didn't think it would fucking blow over this time...But before He could find the right huise to blow to the ground, it was his turn to make dinner tonight... But, there was just, still this one thing He needed to see...{Plastic Nuclear Ono & The Dying Spanish Dagger}15:45"OH MY G