December 28th, 2008

Old Friend

Camarilla London Contacts Wanted

Could someone send me the names and emails/LJs of the various co-ordinators and STs for the London Camarilla venues please.

I've got an appointment next weekend to go and view a new venue (primarily for Gameforce) that is currently free most weekends who are actively looking to get in RPG/Board Game groups. They have two venues in the Moorgate/Barbarican area - one of which can hold in excess of 500 people in tournament style gaming - so is pretty big (too big for our current needs).

Not sure what games are going on in London at present but if any are in need of a new venue it sounds like this site is worth checking out.
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Old Friend

(Poetry) The Faeries Know

I wrote this on Christmas Day back in 1990. It's hard to believe it was 18 years ago and I was only 18 at the time.

Half a life time ago.

Time really does fly and before you know it that's it. Time has gone. I'm a strong believer of people following their dreams. You only live once (or atleast remember one life at a time as a general rule) and there's no point wasting time on things you don't enjoy and putting off pursuing your dreams or getting new experiences under your belt. At the end of the day you get one shot at living each life. Make it count and at the end of days you can look back and be glad you had fun and lived it fully.

Anyway, enough of the retrospective. I posted this on LJ originally back in 2004 when I was, infrequently, posting up various bits of my poetry writing from the previous 16 or so years. I sometimes think I should start trying to post them up again but don't seem to find the time. Maybe 2009 will see a change in that, we'll see.

For know here's "The Faeries Know"

The Faeries Know


Portraits on the walls of a secret room

that overlooks the garden,

covered in mist

with lights of faerie glow,

pulled around

old cobblestone paths

painted in the silk

of a spiders thread

that’s what makes it shine,

makes everything shine,

in the sun or in the rain.

How far do you wish

you could go?

You could do,

anything with magic,

the faeries know

that you could become

the little girl you left behind

hiding in the darkness

of an attic

too afraid to move,

too afraid to

call out or cry,

scared of the darkness,

and the thoughts of goblins,

They said rule the night.

Run little girl,

strange little girl,

that the faeries know

will reach the light,

will see their light,

and will one day grow

out of girl,

into beauty.

Unseen beauty.

Strange kind of beauty.

(They only want to love you)

Portraits on the walls

of a secret room

that overlooks the garden,

covered in the mist

with the lights of faerie glow.



By A R J Abranson


(Taken From 'Wild Card Symphonies')

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Old Friend

(Poetry) Las Vegas

(Another repost of another poem I wrote on the same day as 'The Faeries Know' - I obviously had some time to myself locked away in my room that Christmas Day :p)

I remember writing 'Las Vegas' on Christmas Day back in 1990. It was, and is, one of my favourites and the backstory I developed behind the poem still gives me a sad smile when I think about it today. It is a love story of a love who died before her time, forever preserved in black and white celluoid. Why an eighteen year old was having those thoughts I have no idea but I'm glad I did.

Las Vegas
Still moving
After all of those years
Trapped on film
In motion.
Pictures of a youthfulness
That has long since
Run away, with your fear
Of a black room.
Late into the night I sit
Watching pictures of the same movies,
Watching pictures of an old you
Trapped in re-run
And a slave to slow-mo,
There’s nothing I can do
To stop my memories
In a time, that has long forgotten you.
Keeping visions of my yesterdays,
Of my yesteryears,
Close to me, close to my heart,
But the memories still shine through
With hurt and pain,
With a feeling of loss,
Without you.
Late into the night I sit
Watching pictures of the same movies,
Watching pictures of a young me,
Watching pictures of an old you.
Watching pictures,
It’s how I remember.
Watching pictures.
I remember you
But now you’re lost
And trapped in re-runs
And a slave to slow-mo.
And the memories hurt.
There’s nothing I can do
To change my yesterdays,
To change our yesteryears.
We’re just slaves together,
But trapped apart,
And I remember you
In Las Vegas
As the reel stops.


By A R J Abranson
(Taken from 'Wild Card Symphonies')
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