Wednesday, January 18, 2017



I assumed you knew the last thing we need is for him to gently toss his glasses on his desk and say “I’m lost.” To your credit I think you thought you were working for our cause. But, I guess that only means are you ignorant.

Go back and look at chapter 1. Our job is to keep people right in their own eyes as long as they are wrong. You will see “I am lost” is a phrase we should never evoke.

Maybe you had fun taking him there. But, don’t get carried away with fun and games on a dreary Monday morning without thinking about where it might lead. You will learn that his Monday doldrums often lead to rebirth. I hate resurrection. It runs through humans and vines, seeds and stars. We think we have won. Then, whap.

We are on stage in our brightest moment. We have them where we want them. But, if we make them fall too hard they may bounce back up. We need to exercise self-control, but none of us are very good at that.

You evoking “I am lost” is a prime example. You lost control. You were devouring him like chocolates and he was all over your face and you were probably looking in the mirror meanwhile the ever-patient, always-ready enemy capitalized on your lustful moment.

We have to think like the enemy without thinking like him, just like an adult can learn to think like a toddler without actually thinking like them. We have to know how he works so we can prevent those scenarios.

So, thanks to you our playing field has diminished. Many of the thoughts we could have interjected lost their gusto. But, fear not I can share my prongs with you all of January. They are on loan from Luggish. These are ones described in chapter 22.

You attach one prong to each of his five most sensitive nerves and twist. These are his core wounds. This is our best form of torment.

When you twist the handle the wounds intertwine. You will know it is working when his face falls.

Enjoy every turn. I try to go about 80 turns a minute. I also enjoy letting him get a breather and ruin an otherwise peaceful moment. Don't lean too hard on it.

I’ll see you Thursday.

Yours, Diamondhead