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Frater Teth Mysterium

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I like books [Jul. 9th, 2010|05:15 pm]
Frater Teth Mysterium
[Current Location |my cave]
[mood |dorky]
[music |Belphegor -- "The Ancient Enemy"]

Recent Books Read:


Fallen Order by Karen Liebreich (History/Nonfiction)

Brunner the Bounty Hunter (series) by C.L. Werner (Warhammer Fantasy)

Warpsword by Dan Abnett and Mike Lee (Warhammer Fantasy)


Books Currently Reading:


Plato's Cosmology by Francis Cornford (Philosophy/History)

The Complete Adventures and Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle (Fiction)

The Aeneid by Virgil (Classical Literature/Poetry)

Light in Extension by David Godwin (Occultism/History/Philosophy)

Mathias Thulmann Witch Hunter (series) by C.L. Werner (Warhammer Fantasy)

The Greek Myths I by Robert Graves


Books used for reference purposes:


Who's Who in Classical Mythology by Michael Grant and John Hazel

Hermetic Magic by Stephen Edred Flowers

Three Books of Occult Philosophy by Henry Cornelius Agrippa

The Aeneid of Virgil: A Commentary by R.D. Williams
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(no subject) [Feb. 3rd, 2010|12:35 am]
Frater Teth Mysterium
[Current Location |bed]
[mood |lethargic]
[music |Decapitated -- "Three Dimensional Defect"]

Steve: "Hey Ant. Nice new tattoo."
Me: "Thanks Steve."
Steve: "Whatcha gonna put in the center of it?"
Me: "Nothing."
Steve: "I think you should get a picture of me tattooed there."
Me: "I think you've got a better chance of pregnancy, son."
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Brain Droppings [Feb. 2nd, 2010|11:31 am]
Frater Teth Mysterium
[Current Location |home]
[mood |annoyed]
[music |My Dying Bride -- "The whore, the cook and the mother"]

-I used to be rather proud of my Italian-American heritage. However, these days, I ponder what has happened to "my people" over the centuries to make them degenerate into a bunch of orange, illiterate, ostentation-obsessed, knuckle-dragging troglodytes. Representing the poetry of Virgil or the orations of Cicero? Of course not. Apparently being Italo-American means that you represent fake tans, steroid-use, $150 t-shirts, and wearing your grandmother's earrings out to the clubs. Seriously. Kill yourselves.

-Dear _______, please do not flirt shamelessly with me whilst dropping a myriad of blatant sexual innuendos before coming directly to my house and seductively reclining across my bed in order to suddenly put on the brakes and refuse to even make out with me. If you want to take things slowly, act like it. Playing mind games will not make me respect you more. If anything, I will avoid any form of romance with you whatsoever, convinced that you are either a.) bi-polar and off meds, b.) have multiple personalities, or c.) speak to a magical platypus that dwells in your brain.

-I have a lot of trouble watching these ghost-hunting shows on television that everyone wants me to watch. It specifically kills me when they bring an "occult expert" on to the show, and I can tell almost immediately that said expert wouldn't know occultism if it came in their eye and slapped them twice.
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Bartender Public Service Announcement [May. 31st, 2009|01:12 pm]
Frater Teth Mysterium
[music |Borknagar -- "Resonance"]

Dear Friends,

A definition of the word "bartender" could very easily be:

Bartender (n): One who serves poison to customers and gets paid for it.

Therefore, as one would expect considering the nature of the job, we bartenders tend to be naturally sadistic individuals. That being said, if you are a friend of a bartender and ask them "make it nice and strong for me", do not be surprised at what you receive, and for gods sake don't complain that you can't taste the alcohol.
I'm not even a very good bartender, and yet I can very easily mask the taste of 8 ounces of vodka with a few dashes of triple sec and a splash of cranberry.
Therefore, if you ask me for "something strong" and I hand you a pint glass filled with something fruity and tasty, know that hidden beneath that fruity veneer is the power to make you go from "hey, I'm feeling warm and fuzzy" to "oh gods make the spinning stop" in the blink of an eye. That pint glass is meant for you to sip from as you chat, flirt, exchange funny stories and eventually be nice and drunk by the time the glass is finished. If instead you decide to suck it down through a straw within the span of time it takes me to make another drink, I can assure you that the consequences shall be most dire.
Respect the power of Dionysus, my friends, for though he may indeed giveth, indulge too heartily, and he shall most certainly taketh away.

Sincerely,
Teth
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Tuesday (Part 2) [May. 21st, 2009|11:34 am]
Frater Teth Mysterium
[music |Anthrax -- "Potter's Field"]

male friends humping strip club bouncers, skateboards

Jm and I had a semi-lengthy conversation concerning what has been going on in our lives. She had been dancing for about 3 weeks, and supposedly had been able to avoid the scummier aspects of the job. I let her know that if there were ever any problems to give me a call. Meanwhile, my friend J. was now sufficiently hammered, and would briefly leave the club to skateboard down the street, attempt to jump something, and then skateboard back and have another shot of whiskey.

A slow song ended up being played by the DJ, and J grabbed JM and began slow-dancing/ballroom dancing with her. Eventually, a goateed bouncer wandered over to check on Jm. to make sure the situation was a comfortable one, etc. While his back was turned, however, J. began essentially rabbit-humping the bouncer whilst throwing his hands in the air wildly. The bouncer, oddly, seemed not to notice. I grabbed J's arm and pulled him away from the bouncer, but he slipped my grip and ran back to continue the aforementioned rabbit-humping. I looked at S to see if he could help, but he had a stripper on his lap and was a little too preoccupied playing with her nipple piercings

(Side note -- this stripper had known S for a year or so, and had been trying to fuck him since they first met. S, however, was more amused with the fact that he had the ability to "blue-ball" a stripper, so he made it his duty to tease her to the point of sexual frenzy, and then leave her high and dry).

After repeatedly pulling J away, the bouncer eventually wandered off without either noticing or caring that J had been humping him. J, completely unfazed by the fact that he was a hair's breadth away from getting punched in the face, hopped back over to the stage to throw a few more dollar bills at the girl on the pole.

I bumped into the 19 year old again, and we got back to the "horrors of strip clubs" conversation. ("Yes, I know 3 dancers who died within a year. Yes, they were all 20 years old. Murdered, overdosed, fell asleep at the wheel.") By the time S and J stumbled out of the club (myself following behind), I am pretty sure I had her rightfully worried.

J began skateboarding in the middle of Washington St. downtown, almost slamming into a few cars and almost getting into a fight with one of their owners (the driver noticed the two large bald men, myself and S, suddenly standing next to the heavily tattooed skateboarder and thought better of pushing the issue).

chainsaws in the E&O parking lot,

S ended up driving the three of us to the E&0 Tap whilst J fiddled with both a framing hammer and a chainsaw in the backseat (J works both construction and occasionally tree-felling). We reached the E&O, and the smokers outside were quickly treated with the vision of J, drunk and smiling maniacally, revving a chainsaw and screaming "YOU LIKE TO PARTY!?!?! I LIKE TO FUCKING PARTY!!! WHO WANTS TO FUCKING PARTY!?!?! AAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!"

I eventually got J to put the chainsaw away, but made the mistake of handing his keys over so he could stash it back in the trunk. The E&O was the usual cast of characters, and I quickly settled into a conversation or two with some other friends, specifically Nick Brown, Katy, and some of her friends from work. Before I knew it, S and J had left without letting anyone know (aka: The Irish Goodbye), and the E&O closed shortly afterward.

and pushing a drunken girl from bar to bar in a shopping cart.

Neither Katy nor Nick nor their cute, drunken and exceedingly loud (drunk people need volume knobs) friend Beth were in any shape to drive anywhere, and my car was still parked downtown. So we all decided to walk from the E&O to the Scurvy Dog. Its less than a mile or so there (0.7 miles, according to Google Maps), and the drunken jaunt began as smoothly as one would assume it to go considering the circumstances. However, whilst Katy and Nick strolled slowly arm in arm behind us, I walked ahead with Beth (who will henceforward be known as NVK -- No Volume Knob) who whined and complained that she hated walking, didn't like to walk, was too drunk to walk, wondered if it was going to be a long walk, wondered where we were going and was it much farther and if we had to walk.

By a total stroke of luck, however, I noticed an unattended shopping cart in a nearby parking lot. Grabbing it, I instructed her to get in. "Whee!! Shopping cart! Awesome!!" she said as she hopped inside of it. However, the are-we-there-yets and wow-this-place-is-far-aways continued unabated, it seems, and I did my best to zone out and jog down the road pushing the shopping cart, hoping that the exercise would change her voice into a kind of "wah-wah-wah" sound indicative of Charlie Brown's mother. Katy would occasionally sprint drunkenly along side us, and apart from one rather impressive wipe-out (Nick helped her up and assured us that nothing was broken), we all arrived safely at the scurvy dog (stashing the shopping cart behind a bush so no one would steal it from us).

NVK continued to be loud, Katy continued to be drunk, and Nick continued to shrug and smile a lot. Scurvy eventually closed, I pushed NVK back to the E&O where her car was parked, got a ride from Nick and Katy back to my car, and eventually arrived home safe and sound.
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Tuesday (Part 1) [May. 20th, 2009|07:12 pm]
Frater Teth Mysterium
[music |Hypocrisy -- "Fractured Millenium"]

The following was what I posted on a different online "share with your friends" site.

Cat blankets, small couches, Robert Anton Wilson, downtown walks, used book stores, Arthur Conan Doyle, pulled-pork quesadillas, male friends humping strip club bouncers, skateboards, chainsaws in the E&O parking lot, and pushing a drunken girl from bar to bar in a shopping cart. That was yesterday. Wonder what today will bring.

Here on LJ, however, I feel as if the above deserves a bit of an explanation.

Monday was the usual fare. Tea and reading at Tealuxe in the morning, followed by kickball practice in the afternoon. Post-kickball, went to Wings night at Trinity Brewhouse, and drinks at the E&O.

Cat blankets, small couches,

Got invited to an impromptu get-together at my friend Kristen's house (Joker, Hammer, Harley, and a few other choice friends were there as well). More drinks, good conversations, readings of poetry, and making someone else's makeout session uncomfortable for amusement was the agenda for the evening. Ended up crashing there for the night on a rather small couch+cushy ottoman combo, wrapped up in a blanket.

I awoke in the morning to a young girl (Kristen's cousin), still drunk staring at me saying "Awwww, how cute. You look like a curled up little bear. I wish I had my camera."

The blanket I used was, as it turned out, the blanket primarily used by the positively adorable long-haired ball of fluff that is Kristen's cat (affectionately named "Chainsaw"). Needless to say, my all-black outfit suffered accordingly.

Robert Anton Wilson, downtown walks,

Went back to Tealuxe and spent a few hours reading Wilson and Shea's Illuminatus! trilogy. (Jinx -- look deeply therein and you shall find the fnords. Hail Eris!) Then decided to take a walk around downtown and enjoy the lovely weather.

used book stores, Arthur Conan Doyle, pulled-pork quesadillas,

Cellar Stories is officially one of my favorite places on this planet. For those not in the know, it is a wonderful used book store chock full of bargains. For a bibliophile such as myself, it might as well be the legendary El Dorado. For example, when I went there during my downtown walk, I snagged 3 books. One dealing with the artworks of the Ancient Near East (primarily the sculptures and jewelry of Sumeria, Babylon, Egypt, Phoenicia, etc.), another being a review of primary sources concerning the Ancient Greek religion, and the final one being a facsimile reprint of the 24 original Sherlock Holmes mysteries found in the Strand Magazine (complete with the original illustrations). Total cost for all three: $11.72.

After my bookstore spending, I walked around the corner to AS220 Taqueria. Drank horchata and ate pulled-pork quesadillas whilst reading a Sherlock Holmes mystery I had not read before. Suddenly I heard the voice of M., a bar owner that I am friends with (the following names have been shortened for their protection). M. explained to me that he was going to be meeting S. and J. (both good friends as well as consummate trouble-makers) at the strip club around the corner. I finished my quesadilla, finished my reading, and then met them there.

It was no later than 3:30 in the afternoon, but S, M, and J went at the alchohol as if it were their jobs (yes, they are all indeed of Irish bloodlines). I made certain to nurse my Guinness. I left for an hour or so to buy a new t-shirt, shave and wash up a bit, as well as move my car. When I returned to the strip club, there was a rather young and timid-looking dancer sitting at the bar next to my friends. The conversation went a little like this:

Her: How are you?
Me: Not bad. Just hanging out with my derelict friends and having a drink or two. You?
Her: Not too bad, just a little nervous.
Me: Why are you nervous?
Her: Its my second night working as a dancer. Have any words of wisdom for me?
Me: Indeed. Run while you still fucking can.

Eventually I noticed that J. was sitting at the stage. I wandered over to grab his chest annoyingly, when suddenly I hear "Um, hi Anthony". I look up and suddenly realize that the girl onstage is my friend Jm. (who I had known since she was under-age and getting sloshed at Club Hell, and who I had not known to dance). I said hello cordially, but noticed that my presence at the stage was making her considerably uncomfortable. I told her I'd be at the bar and wandered back to my Guiness and the young dancer (aged 19, I find out, which pushed me to relay even more of the horror stories I had collected whilst working at strip clubs back in the day in hopes that she would leave this job and go elsewhere).

Jm. eventually came over after her set onstage was finished. She explained that there was no way for her to dance while I was giving her what she called the "Dad look". I apologized, but explained that it was hard for me not to give her said look considering the circumstances.

(to be continued...)
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(no subject) [May. 18th, 2009|12:38 pm]
Frater Teth Mysterium
[mood |dorky]
[music |Dio -- "Dont Talk to Strangers"]

Quantum physicists are currently embroiled in a long-term research project. The project is intended to garner evidence of the existence of alternate portal dimensions that attract and subsequently consume things that are easily lost here in the primarily 3rd-dimensional Tellurian realm. Scientists speculate that said portal dimensions would be simply chock-full of things such as pens, hair elastics, socks, lighters, bottle-openers, and virginities.
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Thursday Afternoon Hangover Cure [May. 14th, 2009|01:21 pm]
Frater Teth Mysterium
[music |Emperor -- The Source of Icon E]

There are certain things that make a hangover go away admirably. Bottomless Chai Tea, Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, and the soothing sounds of Mercyful Fate and Emperor resounding throughout a trendy college coffee shop as I read about the insipid adventures of 18th Century libertines. Thank you, Victoria and Michelle.

Last night's Metal Night was certainly a success. More people than ever seem to be showing up these days, and specifically we have been having many repeat customers, which is wonderful. After hours, of course, we stuck around with some choice friends and continued chatting and drinking, which is why I am still a tad hungover as I type this. We did not leave until 5:15 am.

During the after hours, I apparently mixed Mitch's drink a little more potently than he had expected, and, an hour after sucking it down with astonishing rapidity, he was unable to reach the bathroom in time to yawn in technocolor. However, he was able to open a window and stick his head out of it in time, thereby saving the carpet and instead depositing his dinner and alcoholic excess upon the sidewalk below. I subsequently received an unhappy text message from him this morning.
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(no subject) [May. 12th, 2009|04:23 pm]
Frater Teth Mysterium
Though pushing intellectual and perceptual boundaries are usually a matter of course for me, I feel as if I have been making more headway than usual these days. Dreams have been odd, but somewhat enlightening, and I feel as if the extra meditations that I have been tacking on to my usual routine have been yielding results.

Now I am attempting to find a middle ground between the person I used to be and the person I am becoming. Rather ambiguous, I know, but its one of those concepts that is "felt" far better than it is expressed.

On the mundane front, the Metal Night I have been bartending/DJing at has been taking off, I have finished my semester at RIC and believe that I have (hopefully) a nice high grade in my history class, and have been having some rather interesting experiences involving both good friends and too much alcohol.
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Random Quiz [Apr. 22nd, 2009|12:12 pm]
Frater Teth Mysterium
Probably one of the most random quizzes I've taken in a while.

I could survive for 1 minute, 51 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor
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