Undated Journal Entries:
Instead of memoirs written in the Autumn or Winter of one's life, Auzdein von Himmler, the Governor of Inisfree-city and, thereby, the eternal god-king of the Inisfreean realm (that city, the Antarctic and Southern Ocean nature preserve, wherever Inisfreean forces are deployed, and Star-system Auzdein), keeps an ongoing journal so that select individuals (those granted security clearances high enough to access this journal of his) may keep pace with the goings-on of the Inisfreeans (namely those of their friend who likes to go by 'Auz'), gaining a clearer and more complete view of their culture, namely how Inisfreeans fully love one another, as well as how they want to be loved.
* The dates serving as the titles for each section below do not indicate when the event recorded took place; rather, they are merely when the memory of those events was recorded here in this online journal.
Instead of memoirs written in the Autumn or Winter of one's life, Auzdein von Himmler, the Governor of Inisfree-city and, thereby, the eternal god-king of the Inisfreean realm (that city, the Antarctic and Southern Ocean nature preserve, wherever Inisfreean forces are deployed, and Star-system Auzdein), keeps an ongoing journal so that select individuals (those granted security clearances high enough to access this journal of his) may keep pace with the goings-on of the Inisfreeans (namely those of their friend who likes to go by 'Auz'), gaining a clearer and more complete view of their culture, namely how Inisfreeans fully love one another, as well as how they want to be loved.
* The dates serving as the titles for each section below do not indicate when the event recorded took place; rather, they are merely when the memory of those events was recorded here in this online journal.
Himmler's Journal
15 December 2013
Today I came home from a long day of work that began well before the Sun climbed up over the horizon, and I was greeted by one of my many lovely, loving, and lovable daughters; one of the perfected clone variants of the thousands of form-sakes I extracted perfect beauties from while exploring the Outlands. This short, lithe, unbelievably sexy and compatible girl of mine walked up to me and cutely rested her warm palms just above my pectoral muscles, after gently bouncing them an inch off these spots on my body; tapping me in this way in order to politely and sweetly get my attention and interrupt whatever my Outlander-tainted thought patterns would surely be -and clearly were (as I had just returned from dealing with the Outlanders again). "Daddy," she said, her head tilted down a bit and her green saucers of flawless eyes looking up at me. She paused for a second 'til she had my attention and gaze down upon her, clearly receptive to all she was. "First we have sex, then we shower... and then we have some more sex." She was absolutely right, and that is precisely what we did; right then and there, dropping all thought and baggage (literal and figurative), and I filled her with all my cum, and then she showered my lips and face with kisses, and then eased up off my cock, took my hand with her tinier, feminine ones, and led me into the shower to hand- and tongue-wash me 'til I was 'squeaky clean', and then sucked me off in the shower, and then led me out to make sweet, passionate, longing, grinding, panting, clinging love to me all the more. Such is the way of our people, and the way we will always be, and such is the way that I love. Finally, after having realized I must build my own home (rather than inheriting one built by someone else for someone else; not built to my wiring and needs, etc.), I realized that, at last, I also love coming home (in both senses of the term!). 'Never saw that coming (what with how my childhood in the Outlands was).
Today I came home from a long day of work that began well before the Sun climbed up over the horizon, and I was greeted by one of my many lovely, loving, and lovable daughters; one of the perfected clone variants of the thousands of form-sakes I extracted perfect beauties from while exploring the Outlands. This short, lithe, unbelievably sexy and compatible girl of mine walked up to me and cutely rested her warm palms just above my pectoral muscles, after gently bouncing them an inch off these spots on my body; tapping me in this way in order to politely and sweetly get my attention and interrupt whatever my Outlander-tainted thought patterns would surely be -and clearly were (as I had just returned from dealing with the Outlanders again). "Daddy," she said, her head tilted down a bit and her green saucers of flawless eyes looking up at me. She paused for a second 'til she had my attention and gaze down upon her, clearly receptive to all she was. "First we have sex, then we shower... and then we have some more sex." She was absolutely right, and that is precisely what we did; right then and there, dropping all thought and baggage (literal and figurative), and I filled her with all my cum, and then she showered my lips and face with kisses, and then eased up off my cock, took my hand with her tinier, feminine ones, and led me into the shower to hand- and tongue-wash me 'til I was 'squeaky clean', and then sucked me off in the shower, and then led me out to make sweet, passionate, longing, grinding, panting, clinging love to me all the more. Such is the way of our people, and the way we will always be, and such is the way that I love. Finally, after having realized I must build my own home (rather than inheriting one built by someone else for someone else; not built to my wiring and needs, etc.), I realized that, at last, I also love coming home (in both senses of the term!). 'Never saw that coming (what with how my childhood in the Outlands was).
希姆萊 雜誌
18 December 2013
The great 'George Washington of Asia', Chenghis Khaan, always ensured his men enjoyed females of the proper age bracket; the ages when they were attractive, rather than the ages when they atrophied and lied with cosmetics. As early as age 7, they were ordered forth from every community his forces came across, and in every campaign all and only the sexiest of females were brought to him for sex, breeding, and assignment to the harems and brothels. Such was a very high and respectable honor, though, unfortunately, most of them had been brainwashed not to understand that at first. (Providing only the sexiest young girls for their great leader was part of the oath of service taken by all of his soldiers when they were sworn in -and, no less, one which they composed of their own accord; such was the way of true warrior-scholars, gentlemen, naturists, and compatriots.)
In ancient nations, such as India and Rome, females were used and wedded as early as age 9 (and in India, this remained the case until 2013, paused only due to the Rapture Campaign). All across the world, in every nation which gives females and the working caste rights, the age where a female may give permission to be sexually enjoyed is age 14. Only a few very strange nations in all of history raised this age almost a full decade past the age when nature makes all males and females powerfully inclined to share full-bodied loving relations; an act of legal monstrosity and tyranny which resulted in hellish lives for both those in puberty and their guardians, as well. These few and strange nations took 'The Scarlet Letter' approach; demonizing, hunting, labeling, tracking, impoverishing, outcasting, torturing, and even imprisoning and murdering all in their lands who acted on their natural attractions to females when the females were still attractive. Of all the unthinkable crimes, they criminalized teachers for enjoying beautiful and needed, long-craved sex with their students, expecting everyone to cow down to the nonsensical laws they were writing on whims, and to be only attracted and sexually active with ugly, old people whose bodies were already destroyed by drugs such as drinking, smoking, sugars and other grains, and processed foods. Obviously, almost everyone resorted to becoming master lie-smiths, doing what was incorrectly dubbed 'cheating', and even stimulating themselves. Such were the hopeless times of the nations which went sexually insane. Thankfully, even with their generations of enslavement, entrapment, and cult-based brainwashing of their own populations to shame and rat-out all natural acts of beautiful sex and natural attraction, which were always shamelessly kept under the mass-broadcast guises of religion and intentionally misused terms such as 'ethics', 'holiness', 'morality', and 'purity', ...none of this 'stuck'; none of that brazen evil -the same kind used in German concentration camps and American internment camps- was able to undo and rewire the millions of years of human evolution, sanity, and reason. The people (to a large extent, at least) continued to wisely pursue that which was in their own hearts; their natures; their callings, knowing, somehow, that they were innocent and worth it all.
Inisfree embraces nature -naturally; when puberty begins, childhood ends and adolescence begins. When a human female's period starts, her body is ready for breeding. When a human female's attraction to other beings starts, her mind and body are ready for sensuality training and mutual enjoyment. Such has been the way of the species since time immemorial, and such is the way of the Inisfreeans who have pioneered that logic's restoration; the Sexual Renaissance. When attractions are felt and noticed, they are uplifted, encouraged, and kept public so as not to do the social, sexual, emotional, and spiritual equivalents of making a futile attempt to seal off the asshole while expecting the victim to go on living their life as if everything is normal and healthy. Inisfreeans do not allow cancerous, soul raping, spirit killing blockages, repressions, or condemnations to hold back the naturally-triggered and timed holistic developments of the peoples they encounter and interact with.
On every expedition back out into the Outlands, my Inisfreeans and I, partially with our own senses, and partially with those of the Grid Mind through its hidden, remote-viewing portals, are on the lookout and hunt for all attractive females. Depending on my mood and various other factors, we liberate them (though, of course, from the perspective of the pig-ape cattle masquerading as their families and societies, this liberation is kidnapping and felonious). Often, just as fishermen return with nets full of tons of their targets, my Inisfreeans and I return with literal tons of Outlander females, always of the absolute sexiest caliber (physically, at least, since they almost always require years of re-education to learn how to move as females after all that time being as repressed as left-handed writers used to be). Their aging is halted with our various Inisfreean therapies and technologies (and, if they are in their 20s or older, reduced back to how they looked during their pre-teen and teenage years), and they are then stabilized such that their bodies never leave the looks of that age bracket. This allows them all the time they will ever need to make up for all that which was repressed by these lingering, few, strange, crazed nations of their Outlands; keeping them in their ages of the height of their hormones and mutual attractions allows them to revisit that which they always craved and loved most, giving them the perfect, unflinching motivation to focus on their studies -the most important studies of all; the studies of their own bodies, natures, and those of their loved ones (whomever they are attracted to).
Tonight was one of great festivities, for we found our usual Outlander catch; hotter and hotter (more and more attractive) teen and pre-teen girls (compared to previous decades and generations where the repression and denial were so much more traumatic and nearly irreversible), all of whom had much better sexual educations and self-images due to the advent of their realm's Internet (blessing them into genius-levels with unlimited, free access to the summation of human knowledge and experiences) and more-open television programs. A large percentage of them were no longer virgins, either, which made things much easier on both of our groups; my Inisfreeans and their fellow Outlanders. 'Breaking them in' along the flight back home (to Inisfree), we enjoyed many dozens of them crying out in 'o-face' ecstasy, "He's cumming in me! He's cumming in me!" This gave us quite the sexual charges and uplifted spirits, and helped us cum all the more in our own orgy partners as we all watched them continue on, cheering and high-fiving for each successful orgasm -especially the simultaneous ones. There was so much crying, and all of it was tears of joy and relief never dared hoped for, let alone expected.
By the time we got all these new girls back to our city, herding them through the under-passageways to the Subterranean Quarantine Facility, they were giddy and overflowing with bubbly, finally-fully-unlocked attitudes and imaginations, making out freely with everyone around them, 'getting themselves off', and dreaming up and planning out all they were surely soon to enjoy all the more, once settled. We were noticing a very lovely, very relieving and reassuring trend; all of the girls we were liberating (in so many different ways now) from the terrible, zombie-ravaged Outlands, were falling back to their natural essences and perfected states of being much, much sooner and more easily -now more than half of them never needing any 'guiding' toward this end at all. This was a great flag to us; to we Inisfreeans, for it was an undeniable indicator that in just a few more generations, their species would be open-minded and loving enough again to be allowed back out into Space and onto the many other worlds. This was one of the things we had for so very long desired most for them, and what would eventually (by 2515) lead to the spacecraft-carrier The New Horizon being christened and deployed to pick up its complements of their own kind (species) from their many off-world colonizing fleets and other organizations. This was a dream come true for us both; for both our kinds.
The great 'George Washington of Asia', Chenghis Khaan, always ensured his men enjoyed females of the proper age bracket; the ages when they were attractive, rather than the ages when they atrophied and lied with cosmetics. As early as age 7, they were ordered forth from every community his forces came across, and in every campaign all and only the sexiest of females were brought to him for sex, breeding, and assignment to the harems and brothels. Such was a very high and respectable honor, though, unfortunately, most of them had been brainwashed not to understand that at first. (Providing only the sexiest young girls for their great leader was part of the oath of service taken by all of his soldiers when they were sworn in -and, no less, one which they composed of their own accord; such was the way of true warrior-scholars, gentlemen, naturists, and compatriots.)
In ancient nations, such as India and Rome, females were used and wedded as early as age 9 (and in India, this remained the case until 2013, paused only due to the Rapture Campaign). All across the world, in every nation which gives females and the working caste rights, the age where a female may give permission to be sexually enjoyed is age 14. Only a few very strange nations in all of history raised this age almost a full decade past the age when nature makes all males and females powerfully inclined to share full-bodied loving relations; an act of legal monstrosity and tyranny which resulted in hellish lives for both those in puberty and their guardians, as well. These few and strange nations took 'The Scarlet Letter' approach; demonizing, hunting, labeling, tracking, impoverishing, outcasting, torturing, and even imprisoning and murdering all in their lands who acted on their natural attractions to females when the females were still attractive. Of all the unthinkable crimes, they criminalized teachers for enjoying beautiful and needed, long-craved sex with their students, expecting everyone to cow down to the nonsensical laws they were writing on whims, and to be only attracted and sexually active with ugly, old people whose bodies were already destroyed by drugs such as drinking, smoking, sugars and other grains, and processed foods. Obviously, almost everyone resorted to becoming master lie-smiths, doing what was incorrectly dubbed 'cheating', and even stimulating themselves. Such were the hopeless times of the nations which went sexually insane. Thankfully, even with their generations of enslavement, entrapment, and cult-based brainwashing of their own populations to shame and rat-out all natural acts of beautiful sex and natural attraction, which were always shamelessly kept under the mass-broadcast guises of religion and intentionally misused terms such as 'ethics', 'holiness', 'morality', and 'purity', ...none of this 'stuck'; none of that brazen evil -the same kind used in German concentration camps and American internment camps- was able to undo and rewire the millions of years of human evolution, sanity, and reason. The people (to a large extent, at least) continued to wisely pursue that which was in their own hearts; their natures; their callings, knowing, somehow, that they were innocent and worth it all.
Inisfree embraces nature -naturally; when puberty begins, childhood ends and adolescence begins. When a human female's period starts, her body is ready for breeding. When a human female's attraction to other beings starts, her mind and body are ready for sensuality training and mutual enjoyment. Such has been the way of the species since time immemorial, and such is the way of the Inisfreeans who have pioneered that logic's restoration; the Sexual Renaissance. When attractions are felt and noticed, they are uplifted, encouraged, and kept public so as not to do the social, sexual, emotional, and spiritual equivalents of making a futile attempt to seal off the asshole while expecting the victim to go on living their life as if everything is normal and healthy. Inisfreeans do not allow cancerous, soul raping, spirit killing blockages, repressions, or condemnations to hold back the naturally-triggered and timed holistic developments of the peoples they encounter and interact with.
On every expedition back out into the Outlands, my Inisfreeans and I, partially with our own senses, and partially with those of the Grid Mind through its hidden, remote-viewing portals, are on the lookout and hunt for all attractive females. Depending on my mood and various other factors, we liberate them (though, of course, from the perspective of the pig-ape cattle masquerading as their families and societies, this liberation is kidnapping and felonious). Often, just as fishermen return with nets full of tons of their targets, my Inisfreeans and I return with literal tons of Outlander females, always of the absolute sexiest caliber (physically, at least, since they almost always require years of re-education to learn how to move as females after all that time being as repressed as left-handed writers used to be). Their aging is halted with our various Inisfreean therapies and technologies (and, if they are in their 20s or older, reduced back to how they looked during their pre-teen and teenage years), and they are then stabilized such that their bodies never leave the looks of that age bracket. This allows them all the time they will ever need to make up for all that which was repressed by these lingering, few, strange, crazed nations of their Outlands; keeping them in their ages of the height of their hormones and mutual attractions allows them to revisit that which they always craved and loved most, giving them the perfect, unflinching motivation to focus on their studies -the most important studies of all; the studies of their own bodies, natures, and those of their loved ones (whomever they are attracted to).
Tonight was one of great festivities, for we found our usual Outlander catch; hotter and hotter (more and more attractive) teen and pre-teen girls (compared to previous decades and generations where the repression and denial were so much more traumatic and nearly irreversible), all of whom had much better sexual educations and self-images due to the advent of their realm's Internet (blessing them into genius-levels with unlimited, free access to the summation of human knowledge and experiences) and more-open television programs. A large percentage of them were no longer virgins, either, which made things much easier on both of our groups; my Inisfreeans and their fellow Outlanders. 'Breaking them in' along the flight back home (to Inisfree), we enjoyed many dozens of them crying out in 'o-face' ecstasy, "He's cumming in me! He's cumming in me!" This gave us quite the sexual charges and uplifted spirits, and helped us cum all the more in our own orgy partners as we all watched them continue on, cheering and high-fiving for each successful orgasm -especially the simultaneous ones. There was so much crying, and all of it was tears of joy and relief never dared hoped for, let alone expected.
By the time we got all these new girls back to our city, herding them through the under-passageways to the Subterranean Quarantine Facility, they were giddy and overflowing with bubbly, finally-fully-unlocked attitudes and imaginations, making out freely with everyone around them, 'getting themselves off', and dreaming up and planning out all they were surely soon to enjoy all the more, once settled. We were noticing a very lovely, very relieving and reassuring trend; all of the girls we were liberating (in so many different ways now) from the terrible, zombie-ravaged Outlands, were falling back to their natural essences and perfected states of being much, much sooner and more easily -now more than half of them never needing any 'guiding' toward this end at all. This was a great flag to us; to we Inisfreeans, for it was an undeniable indicator that in just a few more generations, their species would be open-minded and loving enough again to be allowed back out into Space and onto the many other worlds. This was one of the things we had for so very long desired most for them, and what would eventually (by 2515) lead to the spacecraft-carrier The New Horizon being christened and deployed to pick up its complements of their own kind (species) from their many off-world colonizing fleets and other organizations. This was a dream come true for us both; for both our kinds.
23 December 2013
Two rice-stuffed salmons and a dozen cheesecake cubes for lunch, jumbo crab cakes on a giant salad platter with maple crème brûlée topped with pecans for dinner, and half a dozen pork-cheese-and-herbs-stuffed mushroom caps for supper; happy day... happy eve'. Global and growing network of brilliant friends from every walk of life; happier day still. This chapter is fairly agreeable, I must say.
Two rice-stuffed salmons and a dozen cheesecake cubes for lunch, jumbo crab cakes on a giant salad platter with maple crème brûlée topped with pecans for dinner, and half a dozen pork-cheese-and-herbs-stuffed mushroom caps for supper; happy day... happy eve'. Global and growing network of brilliant friends from every walk of life; happier day still. This chapter is fairly agreeable, I must say.
_ December 2013
_.
_.
24 December 2013
Another holiday is passing by as I enjoy being deep within the protected, hidden, exclusive, elitist enclave that is Inisfree (and, interestingly enough, myself -"no coincidences"). The mindbogglingly stupid and insufferably annoying goings-on of the Outlands have absolutely no impact here, and are completely unheard of. My many children sleep (hibernating; our biological equivalent of a computer's 'sleep mode' for minimal energy usage), safe in their beds -and all of those beds are of the highest quality imaginable. We enjoy a life of truth and plenty, overabundance, unprecedented prosperity and prestige, and more. No longer do individuals or hordes force their way into my doors, or rudely stare at me through my vehicle windows, nor do they harass and spam me with their cult and herd ways, insisting I be only as they are, and damning me as all deluded fascists damn everything around them. No longer does Hell affect me, for I have made Heaven. Though I have not ended the spells and generational curses which have plagued and tainted the Outlands since time immemorial, I have, at least, freed myself from all of them, and that is no easy feat. I succeeded where I was told I could not even try out, and made myself a king in spite of being held down as a true slave. Those who attempted to wrong me have continued paying for it with their meaningless, cookie-cutter lives, while I have gone on to advance and ascend, forging so many breakthroughs that my culture and civilization are no longer even recognizable to them. We have moved ahead by such incredible leaps and bounds, and with all the while with a stability undreamed of by any of those we now call 'Outlanders', that there is truly nothing we cannot do, and no pleasure we are not now experiencing. Right now, in many places far outside our great and holy city's walls, Outlanders are celebrating Christmas in their usual, real-life zombie fashions. It is a season of giving and gratitude, and I am happy to report that by giving my all to myself; to my own heart and dream(s), I was able to build actual Heaven, never again having to endure the torture of merely hearing vague, ambiguous, and hopeless hearsay about it. What I am most grateful for this holiday season is having reached the point where I will never have to be in those god-awful Outland situations again. Those fools will continue on indefinitely with their generation curses which, ironically, they alone are maintaining against themselves. Their spam will never again reach me. Their laws will never again worry me. Their forces will never again stand a chance at even approaching me.
Turning to my side, I now close this journal entry by my mind's interface with my living city's computer-brain, and snuggle up in the center of my pile of genetically engineered and mass-flash-cloned daughters, all of whom will never grow old, get sick, or have to 'learn the hard way' by making any of the mistakes I and the Outlanders made growing up in the life-and-death, Groundhog Day style cycle that is the summation of the pitiful and pitifully braindead Outlanders' existence. Here we lay together, warm and happy, natural and unashamed, proud and bold, brilliant and invincible, forever young and forever beautiful beyond all description. Several of their silky-smooth limbs softly drape around me, hugging me to them and them to me, and we drift off to sleep together as their mountain-breeze natural body odors serve as our biological incense, and as their irises slowly fade and transition to and through every color in existence; those are my Christmas lights, along with colorful dots and petals of the ivy spiraling around the large, Greco-Roman columns serving as uber-bedposts at each of the four corners of my emperor-sized bed, their warm-white buds steady, along with their subtly red-glowing roses. A fire-watch of several dozen of my other daughters plays soft selections from our Christmas playlists, lulling and lullabying us all to sleep with their musical T.L.C.. No one is fighting. No one is lying. No ugly people are forcing their ugliness upon me. No unwanted gifts are being given. No one is being greedy and tyrannical about who loves who. Oh, holy night. Through the ceiling-wide skylight, the stars and auroral bands are brightly shining. My girls keep their hair and irises colored red, white, green, or combinations and highlights thereof. The light fixtures continue to slowly, steadily dim down until only indirect and starlight remain... and off we all go to our own, private, Inisfreeans-only Astral Plane, where even the wizards of the Outlands cannot meet us or interfere. Tomorrow we will wake up to Christmas Day... and the presents... which are ourselves; all we will ever want and need. Amen. Merry neo-Christmas. Happy axial tilt. Inisfree, our savior, is born.
Another holiday is passing by as I enjoy being deep within the protected, hidden, exclusive, elitist enclave that is Inisfree (and, interestingly enough, myself -"no coincidences"). The mindbogglingly stupid and insufferably annoying goings-on of the Outlands have absolutely no impact here, and are completely unheard of. My many children sleep (hibernating; our biological equivalent of a computer's 'sleep mode' for minimal energy usage), safe in their beds -and all of those beds are of the highest quality imaginable. We enjoy a life of truth and plenty, overabundance, unprecedented prosperity and prestige, and more. No longer do individuals or hordes force their way into my doors, or rudely stare at me through my vehicle windows, nor do they harass and spam me with their cult and herd ways, insisting I be only as they are, and damning me as all deluded fascists damn everything around them. No longer does Hell affect me, for I have made Heaven. Though I have not ended the spells and generational curses which have plagued and tainted the Outlands since time immemorial, I have, at least, freed myself from all of them, and that is no easy feat. I succeeded where I was told I could not even try out, and made myself a king in spite of being held down as a true slave. Those who attempted to wrong me have continued paying for it with their meaningless, cookie-cutter lives, while I have gone on to advance and ascend, forging so many breakthroughs that my culture and civilization are no longer even recognizable to them. We have moved ahead by such incredible leaps and bounds, and with all the while with a stability undreamed of by any of those we now call 'Outlanders', that there is truly nothing we cannot do, and no pleasure we are not now experiencing. Right now, in many places far outside our great and holy city's walls, Outlanders are celebrating Christmas in their usual, real-life zombie fashions. It is a season of giving and gratitude, and I am happy to report that by giving my all to myself; to my own heart and dream(s), I was able to build actual Heaven, never again having to endure the torture of merely hearing vague, ambiguous, and hopeless hearsay about it. What I am most grateful for this holiday season is having reached the point where I will never have to be in those god-awful Outland situations again. Those fools will continue on indefinitely with their generation curses which, ironically, they alone are maintaining against themselves. Their spam will never again reach me. Their laws will never again worry me. Their forces will never again stand a chance at even approaching me.
Turning to my side, I now close this journal entry by my mind's interface with my living city's computer-brain, and snuggle up in the center of my pile of genetically engineered and mass-flash-cloned daughters, all of whom will never grow old, get sick, or have to 'learn the hard way' by making any of the mistakes I and the Outlanders made growing up in the life-and-death, Groundhog Day style cycle that is the summation of the pitiful and pitifully braindead Outlanders' existence. Here we lay together, warm and happy, natural and unashamed, proud and bold, brilliant and invincible, forever young and forever beautiful beyond all description. Several of their silky-smooth limbs softly drape around me, hugging me to them and them to me, and we drift off to sleep together as their mountain-breeze natural body odors serve as our biological incense, and as their irises slowly fade and transition to and through every color in existence; those are my Christmas lights, along with colorful dots and petals of the ivy spiraling around the large, Greco-Roman columns serving as uber-bedposts at each of the four corners of my emperor-sized bed, their warm-white buds steady, along with their subtly red-glowing roses. A fire-watch of several dozen of my other daughters plays soft selections from our Christmas playlists, lulling and lullabying us all to sleep with their musical T.L.C.. No one is fighting. No one is lying. No ugly people are forcing their ugliness upon me. No unwanted gifts are being given. No one is being greedy and tyrannical about who loves who. Oh, holy night. Through the ceiling-wide skylight, the stars and auroral bands are brightly shining. My girls keep their hair and irises colored red, white, green, or combinations and highlights thereof. The light fixtures continue to slowly, steadily dim down until only indirect and starlight remain... and off we all go to our own, private, Inisfreeans-only Astral Plane, where even the wizards of the Outlands cannot meet us or interfere. Tomorrow we will wake up to Christmas Day... and the presents... which are ourselves; all we will ever want and need. Amen. Merry neo-Christmas. Happy axial tilt. Inisfree, our savior, is born.
Undated Journal Entries Section News: This new section of Auzdein's online journal will focus more on Inisfreean culture than dates.