[06:57 pst 02/19/2017 CE]

The site will continue its dark theme, however some small changes will become apparent over the next few entries. We wish to maintain readability over other features due to the site's primary function of information transmittal. Also the galleries have been removed. There has been very little interest in areas of the site beyond the main index and archives, and simplification is something admin has requested. We have also added a top menu item for the autosound articles and removed the previous link. The menu remains otherwise unchanged. Other areas may disappear as a result of the site development throughout the past two years. The direction has become quite pointed, and the nature of the writing is leaving other sections without readership.

The end result of all of these changes will likely leave the site with only two areas -- the Clodmaster Project and the main ind/archive. Reference articles may stay in the background for the time being. Storage space will never be an issue as it was in the past, and this means whatever remains here will enjoy both dimension and longevity.

The Cut Line and the Realization

 read ( words)

"She was present for the entire visit. Likely standing at least five foot eleven, she represented every single aspect which we have sought throughout these many sordid and disconcerting years. Everything from her long, tapered nose to her slim yet extremely lengthy legs to her gunboat-sized and thin feet. All of it for fuck's sake... Standing not ten feet from us for more than two hours. God damn.

That was the most difficult and uncomfortable time in recent memory. Even the hours spent in the company of the Raven had an incredible upside due to Her kind and considerate nature. The tall one? None of that existed due to the fact that we did not know her at all. She simply entered with others to stay and watch the sporting event just like all the rest. And stay she did -- the entire time lingering nearby looking as out of place as the space shuttle resting under the sea. Yes, she stood out like no one else. She was an enigma in the room. Her height forced her to look downward toward others (even many of the males) and as she did her neck became visible through long, dark hair. The most incredible neck we have seen in years. It went on forever, towering above her unending height. Again, God damn. Seeing her move about as the afternoon went on was difficult. Her very long legs displayed in varying positions forced us to realize the rarity of such slender and fluid form, and the time allowed us to compare to other past visions in places which did not permit such protracted study. Time and time again she wandered the room socializing with others, and all the while we glanced and became floored by the mechanics of her dimensions and the relationship between her legs and incredible torso.


As always, we did our damnedest to remain away and discreet in our efforts to see her. Of course, we will not disturb another human being for the advancement of our deviant desires. At some point she removed her sweatshirt revealing a very narrow waist as opposed to her hips. She did not carry herself as if others would worship, but simply enjoyed the day like any other average patron. The game went on, and we obsessed, dreamed, needed. The situation was all bad, and despite others near us enjoying our company, what was going on inside became trying and inexplicable. And no one knew. The more time spent thinking of her and gazing, the worse off we became. The goddess strolled about and interacted with parts of the room and we stood there in awe and pain. She was one of the most beautifully sculpted women we had come across and yet again we had been left with no knowledge, numbers, reference... Not a fucking thing. As usual. So here we are. Another God-knows-how-long of a period spent in front of the infernal Goddamned machine attempting to describe both the look and the feelings. Impossible for fuck's sake.

The fascinating part of this most current of sightings is that something happened which never took place before. We surprised ourselves inside and covertly took a digital image of her from the back as she faced the big screen. Dim, haunting, unclear, yet it is there. We cannot display the image here for obvious reasons, but suffice to say the idea of capturing an image of a woman without her knowledge is something which we did not believe ourselves capable. It is a violation of sorts, although in public view that point may be debated. The simple fact is that we have now realized yet another level to this most dangerous of obsessions -- over the edge of reason, if you will. We do not know exactly how to feel about the idea, and we are now worried that the desires and simple curiosity, mathematic interest, and need of the numbers have all now pushed us outside remaining in the shadows and into a life. Frightening. [The fact that we are sitting in front of this editor listening to a song about suicidal ideation doesn't help, either.]


Was the image worth the realization? Who the fuck knows. The deed is done, however, and now we either rationalize or just live with it. JUst like the collection of images which have been splayed across these active server pages throughout the past two years, it will remain locked up tight and never see the light of the Internet. That type of control is far more important that many will admit -- toss a photo to a server and it can go around the world in eighty minutes. And it will.

The furtherance of her image from our minds and onto the screen is disturbing, but at least we have a frame of reference like no other. Since it is already there, we can study. The tough part is dimensioning the image without a starting point (normally this would be the distance between her eyes, center-to-center). Although, we may never do such a thing. Most likely the image will just sit there, just as we did that fateful day in her presence. One day soon it will be deleted along with all the rest. We will just sit here and drown in thought like any other day. Just drown it all away and let nothing and no one inside. We cannot deal with the obsession most days, and after this type of event the drop is further... That little flowing vortex which appears while the sink is draining. Right down the fucking sewer we go.


As we spent time viewing her from varying positions, all of the details became clear: legs, hips, waist, shoulders, long fingers, and the arm structure with which we have become all too familiar -- thin and slightly defined. Her hair was in a ponytail and to her mid back, revealing the neck upon which was perched her gorgeous facial features and large eyes. Dark eyes. She held everything in the type of order which we seem to notice in a split second. Absolutely gorgeous and with the height and lanky features of a runway model. There was no end to the incredible numbers all over. As usual, we will never know any of them. Fuck.

This type of art is as nothing else on earth. And this situation continues to repeat. And we have no outlet. And the need is beginning to become crippling at times. And we can no longer run to the Raven for understanding. And that is because She is gone. And the fucking dreams are now during waking hours as well as sleep. And the burning feeling inside is getting worse when we see this art. And God damn it all anyway.


So what do we do now? Finish the fucking business cards and hope for the best? That is a tad unrealistic, to put it mildly. The digital image we sneaked is a step, but in what direction? We have no idea. That entire event could have simply made everything worse. We will not be reduced to covertly shooting images of people because there is a name for that (and it is not exactly pleasant).

For the time being we shall study what we can and perhaps craft a more involved writing of this beautiful woman and publish it here. Naturally this is not the healthiest decision considering our frail state, however it may assist in understanding the genesis and reasoning behind everything. We simply need to know the how and why of this long term interest as it has become so important.

The image of this latest goddess has been reworked as much as software will allow, and will represent a step which takes us in some unknown direction, and may push us into an uncomfortable and very isolated place. We just do not know what to think -- aside from the simple truth that over the past couple of years the obsession has expanded enough to force risk. This is not good in any way. Dangerous thought is one thing, while dangerous behavior is entirely different."