Let's try this again. It is I, Silentio, the man behind the man who pulls the strings. The early entries were also me--a tiresome joke that ceased to be amusing almost before I had even thought of it.

It has been pointed out that my writing is excessively literary. To be less generous, my output sounds as though it's clipped from the pages of a Victorian novel (see below, although that was a conscious exaggeration of this tendency). Hopefully less Austen than Eliot, less Dickens than Conrad, but it's all very embarassing in any case. I will not exorcise this demon by feeding it, as I did in the earlier entries on this blog. Instead, I will use this blog as a tool to overcome it--to starve it, to flog it, to drive it out--by writing in the wretched style associated with this medium. To the best of my inability.

So expect prose that is terse, masculine, and semi-literate. Prose that swaggers up and decks you right in your stupid ugly face just for the hell of it (also: to see you cry). Prose that isn't smart or scholarly or based on reality in any way, because school is for suckers and all those tests were, like, total bullshit, man. Prose that can hardly be bothered to organize itself enough to become decipherable. That's the goal, anyway.

Posting will be light, and will happen only when I have something worth saying badly. Next up: the hurdy gurdy, and why it is the most irritating and awesomest instrument evar.

!!1111!


P.S. I make noise. Click "Passé" to hear my stuff. More stuff coming soon.

2005-03-05 - 7:29 p.m.

Ladies and gentlemen, dear friends and neighbors, I am very sorry for the long delay since my last post, but a certain confluence of circumstances conspired to thwart me in my attempts to fulfill my duty to you all. In particular, a project that I had been working on immediately before my retirement bore sudden and unexpected fruit at the beginning of February and as a result I was obliged to return to work briefly, just until it was clear that my successors had the situation well in hand. This consumed a large portion of my time, although I must say I rather enjoyed being back in the swing of things, and certainly didn't mind the reward for my labors--another medal or two for the old dress uniform. I've also been rushing to complete a draft of the beginnings of my memoirs, as a handful of publishers have begun to express an interest. Naturally I plan to focus primarily on my days as a flyer, but no telling of my story could be complete without a considerable amount of background material, background material in which Johannes plays an important role. Indeed, I've recently begun working on a chapter concerning my school days, and I suspect that this labor of mine will now facilitate my work on this site, at least insofar as it has gotten me thinking about the origins and development of my friendship with Johannes. The only complication is that, per his request, Johannes is mentioned in my memoirs as rarely as I could manage. Why would he request such a thing, you ask? Well, I often get the distinct impression that Johannes would prefer that there were no evidence of his existence whatsoever, whether photographic, filmic, literary, or inscribed in the memories of others. But then again, he releases music under his own name. Dear. I'm afraid that this may become a regular occurrence: as I attempt to convey my understanding of Silentio to you, I discover it's woeful inadequacy. Please bear with me, nonetheless.

In the future I'll be more conscientious when it comes to my duty to you, dear reader. Within a few days I'll post the first installment of the promised joint biography of Silentio and myself.

RAF Lt. Col. Michael J. Lieberman, Ret.

2005-01-25 - 5:08 p.m.

Greetings, ladies and gentleman, and welcome to the first installment of the weblog (or "blog") devoted to the life, thought, and now music of Mr. Johannes Silentio. I hasten to add, however, that I am not the aforementioned Mr. Silentio, but rather his childhood friend and longtime confidant RAF Lt. Col. Michael J Lieberman, retired, formerly of the Intelligence Division. He appears to have drafted me to maintain this site until such time as he is prepared to communicate with you himself (or such is my understanding - his intentions are often perishingly hard to discern). I doubt that I am up to the task, but I shall do my best.

First, though, even before I describe how I came to be on such friendly terms with Silentio or to receive this assignment, I feel the need to say a few words about my humble self. I first met Silentio at Willingdon boarding school, where we bonded instantly, perhaps because we both stood out from our peers on account of our superior intellects and (sadly) our lack of ability when it came to sport. We parted ways after that, with Silentio going to Oxford to study maths, then climbing to the very highest levels of Her Majesty's Secret Service, while I chose the military path, attending officer training and shipping out to the Far East. I flew against the Japs during the Great War, from 1941 until 1943 when they finally managed to shoot me down over Burma. The ensuing crash cost me my right leg from the knee down, but I still managed to get my men through that ruddy jungle to safety. For this feat, I was awarded a commendation for valor, which was pinned to the lapel of my dress uniform by no less a personage than the Queen herself. But I digress. Surely, though, you will pardon an old man for prattling on a bit, particularly in these times when there seem to be so few willing to listen. To get back to the story, I was transferred to Intelligence, where I remained until my retirement. After returning from the War, I married a perfectly lovely woman, Maryanne McKerr, who, to my enduring grief, passed away just last October. Together we bore and raised three children in this very home on Old Brompton Road in London. (I know it is not customary to reveal one's location in forums such as this, but I sincerely doubt that I'll have the teeming masses clamoring for entrance at my door. Wouldn't mind a spot of clamor, to be honest.) At any rate, my two daughters are just as lovely as was their mother, and are now raising fine families of their own. As for my son, I no longer speak to him due to certain lifestyle choices he has made. To make a long story short, though, I have an abundance of time, some of which I am happy to devote to this blog, in accordance with Silentio's wishes (or, again, with my perception of the aforementioned).

I suspect that Silentio has had this project, as well as my involvement in it, in his mind for quite some time. For example, the computer at which I am now typing was a quite unexpected gift from Silentio, which I found in the securely locked boot of my car on the day following my wife's burial. Johannes being the only person I know with both the disposable income to purchase a high-end computer and a knack for lockpicking, I quite naturally assume that he was indeed my benefactor. Moreover, he directed me to this site and indicated the administrator's password in a note delivered in characteristic fashion. To be precise, I was awoken in the wee hours of Friday morning by a tremendous crash of breaking glass coming from the front of my house. Stumbling down from my bedroom, I discovered that a heavily weighted trash bag had been thrown through my plate-glass window (I've begged him not to do this, but he's a very stubborn man). Inside the bag, stapled to the decomposing remnants of a roast chicken, I found a single sheet of yellow legal paper, on which were written the words:
"jsilentio
13 & 22 tagesbuch.dpn
blue lectern
9 & 26 aibhinne"
I don't bloody well understand the entire message, but I was clever enough to reach this point. And since I'm here, I'll try over the course of the coming weeks to give you some insight into the life, thought, etc. of my dear friend.

       ^{http://www.geocities.com/imgsrcdesign}