MayI didnt check the calendar. Still 2013.

Alphabet City, NYC, sitting at my dusty desk and writing this on my slowass desktop comp 4:13am Typical. When I came back home to my closet, ahem, apartment, I found my affairs in chaos. My mailbox was stuffed so full that the post office had left two will hold notices. Bills were past due. The voicemail for my landline had enough messages that I opted to just mass delete them. I should get rid of the landline entirely, but Deds a popular bastard and it would hurt his ego to dismiss any of his flock. Me, Im just a normal guy who wishes the last ten years away every time my mind gets a break to do so. That is sometimes terrifying. Waking up as if from some dream and realizing Im not Dedbeat. I can think back to who I spoke to, what I wrote, even these journals, and see as well as feel the disconnection. And it always happens when I come back to this apartment. Back to life, back to reality. Ill get to the friend part- thats where I remain confused. There were dishes in the sink that hadnt been washed in weeks, so crusted over that the grease was like cement. I tossed them into the trash. Paper plates for now on, check. The interior of the fridge was rank, the air in the small apartment stale. I havent been playing this secret stuff chess game long. But being Beed up means you cant keep off the radar for long. You learn as you go. I wasnt settled maybe an hour when the first visitor showed up. Some young girl saying hed been waiting for weeks to score. You know, the real special stuff. News flash: she wasnt young and it wasnt drugs she was after. I took the money, handed the manila envelope over, and then put on Star Wars. Deds a, what would you call it- schmoozer. He manipulates conversations, hears things, knows things, and he delivers them to your door. Or at his door, like a big dope. Does he think were untouchable? What happens from there aint on his hands. But it may be on mine. Im sure the lumies have every clue what hes up to. But as long as hes an asset, we get to keep our heads. Crap, Im pretty sure they find his traits admirable. My detachment from this is sometimes terrifying. His traitsCal, Cal, Cal, the skeletons in your closet are playing poker, and the stakes are your soul. As a troubleshooter for the lumies, I didnt have many friends. The Dedheads are always by my side when I make my mysterious way back into town. But whos there when youre knee-deep in Filth? I met a few souls along the road who were smart enough to agree that more heads is better than losing ones. I never asked if they

were Dragons or Temps, and most never asked me. Fine thing. Meant them dropping what their alliances were up to on occasion. Noted and reported, thanks. Ded and I, were united in the field; We share a common goal. That goal is Seriah. It will always be Seriah. When well have the power to have our eyes everywhere, the people who destroyed her can no longer hide in the shadows like the rats they are. Maybe thats why I didnt have friends up until that point. June, 2013, somewhere, sense of time lost Things have gone 360. I have lots to write. But I do not have the time- time of which the concept is only important to mere mortals. That keeps sinking in further. Is the immortality all of us Bee people permanent? Will I see civilizations fall and rise time after time? Time will tell. Time has told. Cryptic man, real cryptic. Wasnt that in a Bill & Ted movie? Did I get that from a movie, cos it dont even make sense. The hell am I even writing here? It dont matter. There are other immortals to sit around now, having killer parties, killing time with heavy artillery and Kung Bam Pao. You got- I got friends. Some of them are Buzzing Bees. Put a smile on that goddam face of yours. Mine. Mine. Theres already a smile on. Death grins at the pantomime of danger. Ded grins.