BOOK 2

CHAPTER 1: UNBIRTHDAY

Suddenly I felt like everything else around me withered and died for some reason, but at the same time something was growing inside me, same that filled me with serious doubts. I was sure of many things at this point in my life; there are no such things as ghosts but only the shadows of those who were, but then what about the ones who are?

I spent part of my day finding Caroline online even though she said that I couldn´t but then I remembered how I met her in the first place, by her initials. So I searched under C.K. and there it was. So I sent her a friend request trying to be as explicit as ever. But it didn´t happen right away, so I kept waiting and waiting and waiting...standing patiently by my laptop and the same time the world revolved around me keeping in my mind that it was my birthday; the dreaded 1/29.

It wasn´t so bad being 30 but at the same time I wasn´t getting any younger. My closest artists friends would be here, Mark, James, Mikester, even Janie Wu came back to town despite the terrible weather. This was to be the longest night of my life, oh yes, the party that never ended.

"What are you doing, sweetie, you´ve been staring at the same screen for about an hour," said Edith.

"Didn´t I tell you about Caroline? She´s real, she´s not a ghost. She was one of the very first people to notice that supernatural power behind my paintings?"

"Fine, I understand that. Forget about her, alright? She´s not there anymore or she´s practically there back in SoHo. I really wish you wouldn´t bring that up tonight." She took a deep sip of tea and then she proceeded to give me a pat on the shoulder. "Think of this as an opportunity to reborn, that´s what birthdays are supposed to be about in a way. I have to go, have a wonderful day."

"Why wouldn´t it be?" I said.

(continued)...

BIRTHDAY

wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!...

Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...
Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...
Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...
Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...
Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...
Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...
Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...
Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...
Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...
Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...
Adrian is dead, long live The White Rabbit...


...or am I dying?.......................................................................................gotcha!

PURLOINED

Dear Adrian:

I hope you don´t mind splattering my words all over your blog. I don´t consider it hacking, it´s just a matter of collaboration. I´m pretty sure that we can find a way of achieving great things now that you decided to summon me. Just sit back and relax, it´s really not that bad. I´ll take GOOD care of this place until you come back on 1/29...your un-birthday.

Sincerely,

THE WHITE RABBIT.

END OF THE BLACK DIARY.

next: THE WHITE DIARY

SUMMON

I´m shifting, change hurts but so does life. I knew I had to go back upstairs but before I did I spun around the room of my studio probably for a last look, to find clues, to find myself, to find my other self? What then?

As I walked I felt something burning, an unusual pain by my left side where I had placed my wicked body art. I discovered and saw with awe that the once black stylized rabbit figure was being invaded by an evident white patch...this is not the first time I witnessed this. First, the illustration on the Alice book, now what?

CHAPTER 7: REBEL-ATIONS

Something went bump.

"What are you doing down there, Adrian?"

"Um, I fell down, I´m sorry. I was just clearing up this space, that´s all."

"Well, can´t you just doing in the morning? It´s 1 AM. You´ve acting awfully strange recently frankly I feel sort of concerned about these mood swings, it´s like I´m talking to two different people or probably more."

"Now, why would you say that?"

"We made a deal, if you feel so nostalgic that you refuse to leave this house, I understand, but there´s not turning back, you know."

"No..."

"No what?" she said quite upset.

"I meant to say that it´s OK, nothing is tying me down to this house anymore. I can leave in peace. Maybe it´s for the best, no more tricks. From now on, things are gonna be A-OK..." I smiled with such confidence it gave me the chills...

"That´s more like it, now come back to bed..."

"I hear you..." She had no idea what was coming, and it´s better this way. I am changing...White Rabbit...

OPEN WOUND HOUSE. (continued):

"The only way out is down, by the way."

That voice definitely came from Caroline, no doubt about that, and we had a lot to talk about. She wore a different dress this time and it was rather long, like a sort of evening gown. I stopped to have a peek at what she was doing as she laid on the floor, apparently putting together some sort of puzzle.

"There you are...why didn´t you tell me you were an artist?"

"Me, why, I never said I was, just like I never said I was a psychic! It´s just one of my many talents..."

"So that´s why you´re after me all the time, you´re not leaving me until you get what you want!"

"True. Now I will tell you a little secret. Edward K, does that ring a bell?"

"The previous owner? What about him?"

"I´m his daughter..."

You´ve got to be fucking kidding me...

"So are you or not dead?"

Caroline laughed effusively for about a minute and then smiled cynically gazing at me, "You still haven´t learned anything, have you? I did have a past life, which was the child you see now. Yet, this isn´t the real me, I´m grown up, that´s why I talk differently. I´m a woman..."

"Are you even alive?"

"Perhaps, I dare you to come down and find me but you´ll have to figure out what I look like in real life."

"Oh, but that´s so easy, let me just go ahead and search you online..."

"Silly rabbit..."

"So why did you choose this shape anyway?"

"I didn´t! I eventually turned into her."

"Does you father even know about this?"

"Aha, I bet you haven´t been paying enough attention to the quirky buyers you have, Adrian. Two words, RI- TUAL..."

"You mean Ritual...wait."

I climbed up the staircase in my old studio and the answer to her sort of riddle was right there in front of me; she was building a puzzle of the Tree Of Life I painted, but what about the two rabbits?

"This means you were looking at this painting all the time. The Jewish guy, Edward K., fuck! Why didn´t I see this before, the one that started it all! That explains why you were able to show up here after it got sold. But on the other hand, how come the other buyers are still not able to get in?"

"The impact is much, much less on them than it is on me or that French girl over there, tell me, did you find her attractive?"

I felt the huge need to throw something at her now, "Why are you doing this, torture, drive me mad? You´re getting there very quickly, but then what, do you actually know more about the Occult than anybody else?"

"No, the first time I landed here was by accident. Then I found the child and she embraced me. Sometimes I see things too but I don´t question them because I have a great deal of respect for the dead. Don´t forget I was here before you came along."

"Did you know the ghost was here already?"

"She was inside me as soon as I left. I wanted to follow Dad´s footsteps so badly but he won´t let me. So I´m his agent for now."

"I´m confused, wasn´t I the one supposed to help her, the whole little story about the factory that burned to the ground?"

"YES! That´s all true, but I couldn´t do that because I´m no psychic, in fact she wasn´t either but there´s someone who is,The Rabbit Of The Infinite Strength. It shows us things."

"Whoa, you said exactly the same thing as Vainilla..."

"Oh, how clever you are, Adrian! I´ve visited her too. These paintings are indeed marvelous gateways to actual places, except for Lisa´s, of course, that was the past."

"Ok, a simple question, who or what made me paint this?!"

"Who else but me, I´m just a little girl..."

"I´m sorry?"

"Me, it´s me, Adrian, remember?"

"What´s your real name if it ain´t Caroline? Speak!!!"

"NO, I don´t want to! But I know who you are," she giggled. "You´re...you´re The White Rabbit..."

"Yeah...right, look your riddles are starting to give me a bad headache. I have to go now."

"The only way out is down..."

Dammit, I tripped and fell down the stairs...

(continued)...

OPEN WOUND HOUSE. (continued):

"Would you like a nice cup of tea, dear?" said Vainilla, or at least  I think that´s what she said her name was. I stood slightly stunned but not too much or else she would grow suspicious. Suddenly her round bed transformed before my eyes into a table. What next, her portraying the Mad Hatter?

"Indeed you are clever, and a rather handsome one I must add. Here, go ahead while it´s still hot."

I just had this tea as a courtesy, not really interested. However as soon as I had a sip my vision became clouded, my heart pounded like a wicked drum. Was it a drug? No, but that was not tea,  "Mother, where am I, where have I landed?"

"The Rabbit Of The Infinite Strength brought you here. How wise is he, I look at him every day and he shows me things in return."

"Like me?"

She laughed with such grace and eloquence she had me besieged, but then again it could have been the so-called tea.

"Why do you think the whole world revolves around you? I mean, I used to think the same thing happened to me until I just became aware."

"Aware?"

"You know, I woke up, that´s all. "

"Waking up? But that´s easy!"

"Not in your case, I´m afraid."

"What the Hell are we talking about right now?"

"I said WAKE UP!"

Aghh, I slightly moved but Edith was out cold. I threw the sheets over me again. This could only mean I was to enter another dream, nothing to do but just relax, for it wasn´t really real, was it?

(continued)...

OPEN WOUND HOUSE.

"Stand back - get back

He'll paint your blue skies black

He gives bullet proof protection

Got a resurrection feel

When I'm scared, and 'bout to lose

He gives me travelling shoes

He's a river and he's turning in front of me

And I go blind

Wasting my time

While the rivers in front of me

That's where I'm goin' to be."

A inviting, slender girl with a very sexy white negligee was humming a reinvented version of She´s A River, a 90s song with mild success. She didn´t look like the typical American, this one was taller, amazing long silky legs, brunette like a French girl but not quite like one. She threw herself on a round bed writing more lyrics and rehearsing them I believe. I tried not to make too much noise yet she had a quite keen sense of hearing. She giggled.

"Oh, there you are! Isn´t this fabulous, darling?"

"What is?"

"Amazing how this all came some one innocent piece of art. I´m Vainilla. Welcome."

Damn, I mean no, I mean yes, I mean, here we go again...

(continued)...

UNCLEAN

I´m starting to believe that this whole supernatural bullshit is starting to sound childish and maybe that´s why I dropped it when I was younger. Lisa put so much pressure on me, no wait, his parents, no wait my parents put so much damn pressure on me to make that happen just because their families got along so well that it was like the complete opposite of Romeo and Juliet but I still wanted to kill myself at the end of the story. And to top it all, she was obsessed with me being able to come up with powers after I told that little story about Black River. Some people just didn´t get it.

Maybe it was for the best, not that it was stupid and all just that it´s not cool to play with all the time. By the way, I never actually used a Ouija board to conjure the dead.

"There you are, Adrian, you look different today," said Edith as she hugged ever so enthusiastically.

"I´m clean, if that´s what you´re wondering. With all the housework and all I definitely needed it."

"No, no, it´s not that. You seem relaxed and like in peace, you know, not nervous as usual."

Oh, so now I was usually nervous, "Then I feel so bold now that I can conquer the universe!"

"Right, don´t overdo it, though, I can tell sometimes. Let´s eat, I feel like I´ve been here forever. It was rather hard to get back to schedules back at school."

I´m starting to get the strong feeling as well that my dreams are starting to grow more fascinating than my actual life. It´s like those people who get so hooked on the net because their normal old selves ar just too goddamn pathetic and insignificant they feel the need to become the stars of their own show by posting their activities 24/7. What they don´t realize when they do that is that they´re fabricating and carefully editing another life so the whole world can believe they´re having a hell of a time. After all, it´s too goddamn boring to be sharing what you do every single day of the week without rest, at some point your days are not that great!

In my case it´s turning out the same way. Why can´t I dream of Edith? I´m feeling guilty, dirty, like in the old days, I mean before I met her. Let´s see what disgusting thing happens tonight, after I go to sleep of course.

(continued)...

I

Sunday, what an interesting day to meditate, however today I had a chance to speak with my inner vermin.

As soon as I got out from the shower I stood in front of the mirror and I said; " let´s do this." It was one of those rare moments in which I was all by myself, only an awful gust could be heard outside, which made it more dramatic by the way.

I closed my eyes and counted three. I shouted and screamed out loud like a cat, even spoke faster than the usual. I clenched my fists and tried to ask some questions to myself, as if I had fallen into some kind of trance,

"Who are you? Speak!"

"I don´t want to."

"Say your name."

"AGHH!...I DON´T WANT TO!!!"

I kept screaming and crying like a child until somehow I calmed down.

"You´re weakening..."

I opened my eyes and regained consciousness. It didn´t feel any different, but I felt somewhat scared , as if I were a child playing with matches.

I heard a loud thump...so I turned around to see what was going on and noticed that a book fell out of one of my shelves so I blamed it on the wind. But then again it wasn´t just any title. It was Alice In Wonderland and it laid opened at one of the first chapters; the illustration of The White Rabbit.

Coincidence. I picked it up and noticed a tiny red stain close where his chest was. I tried to rub it off somehow but it wouldn´t go away anymore. It didn´t smear or smudge. The book was rather old anyway, it belonged to my grandpa it was around 40 years old and had the original John Tenniel artwork.

At least this added a little bit more madness to my afternoon, nothing really big happens anyway. We´ll see what goes on tomorrow. By the way, this wasn´t a dream, it was real.

1:29 AGAIN

Dear Diary, blog, personal Kleenex or whatever you wanna call it, I keep seeing that damn combination of 129 everywhere and yes, I know! In a way it could be related to my birthday so I don´t have to be reminded of that, could it be related to something else? Edith keeps working on her thesis, pretty interesting stuff she came up with, especially the whole thing about the mirror neurons, that could help explain this whole empathy thing with me and my followers. If they don´t see my work or me then maybe they won´t have lucid dreams about me anymore. I remember still a few weeks ago how I mocked that but now it´s starting to get annoying. I won´t answer them back yet, but I´m sure they think I´m aware they exist. I´m gonna give them a hard time just because, let´s hope they don´t consider I´m some kind of asshole. Ironically, my prints are selling like hotcakes, best sale ever! I need to go, more things to install on the new loft and we´re fighting a snowstorm. Keep cool.

BOUNCE

How disgustingly boring this moving process is, now the streets are clogged with snow, that will surely speed things up, sarcasm intended.

I think I´m finally beginning to understand why people want to connect with each other to feel better. It goes way beyond sympathy or empathy, it´s like saying, "I feel your pain." I was just peeking at Edith´s work and she found something about mirror neurons. I didn´t read much but according to this it could help explain why people imitate certain behaviors in the learning process. She´s continuing this theory by suggesting that it is possible for other persons to feel physical pain by literally imitating the other person in question. I heard a long time ago when my dad was little he and his brother got sick at the same time and each one could easily describe exactly the same symptoms but in the end only one of them was truly ill.

I talk about this BECAUSE someone keeps posting me saying that "I feel what you feel", how the Hell they know what I´m going through? This claims he got pneumonia almost the same time I did but then it turns out it wasn´t true, he just panicked because I stopped posting for a while he actually thought the worst could happen. I´d like to think the same effect is achieved while watching my paintings but it doesn´t quite work like that, you see the other person must have something in common with me. Droogie´s an artist, so is Alice and that other singer girl; they´re egotistical and pretentious like me, sorry, but yes and the way they interact with me is much more stronger.

But that girl Lindsay, she has gotten farther than all of my so-called followers, does she have any of my paintings by any chance? I hardly think so, but she might be paying an awful lot of attention to what I´m trying to say, she better not play with fire or she will get burned, because everything you do bounces back, just like Mr. Scraps right here.

MUSE

I´m still in the process of moving, nothing actually relevant to talk about today. One of the things I hate the most is sorting out stuff figuring out each other´s belongings. Edith has cluttered me with all sorts of books about psychology, obviously and analysis. The few I gathered were all art related, I had tons and tons of hardbacks on Expressionism, ones that they gave me when I was younger, I even had the first book that I ever bought with my pocket money, it was called The Home Artist, which includes the easiest and most complex techniques.

Somewhere along the way I remember a line that said something like, "music is a good way to help an artist feel more inspired to paint, but for a writer it´s harder because it interferes its concentration." I believed it for a long time and it worked; I felt the need to surround myself with good tunes to release my anger but the other part about writing with music didn´t convince me that much. The trick is that you have to visualize what you´re gonna express with just the right song. I´ll leave with this one to get in the mood.

Now I was feeling inspired, "I, I won´t stop until I´m done..."

ECLISPED

Dear Diary, I think I finally was reached out and touched by faith last night. I was at my new home in Chelsea staring at the walls not moving a single muscle. It was all dark and the furniture was still wrapped in plastic. So then this girl comes over, not my girlfriend that Lindsay again. She invited over for dinner and she offered my favorite of wine; she knew that too, she must be a die hard fan.

We chatted for hours, her presence felt really warm and inviting. She liked to wear her hair short and kept smiling as if there was a certain glow in her face. Then she asked me a particular off topic question, "do you like me just the way I am?" And I answered back, "Sure, I don´t have a problem with that." So then she took my hand and invited to go look outside a window and it so happened that there was a solar eclipse going on that night. It looked like there was a halo around the Moon.

Just yesterday I found out there had been a solar eclipse too on the other side of the Earth, somewhere around the Middle East. Coincidence, but not quite. Last year I also had a similar dream in which I was staring at the Earth being on the Moon while an ethereal being was showing me that there was something written on the face of the planet, very unusual symbols. I didn´t give that vision too much importance until now. Apparently the stars are connected to me as well, after all I am The Star, just like Ava mentioned. This year will truly make a huge difference in my life, it´s like I opened Pandora´s Box and set all the demons loose. I hope they´re good demons, or vermin, or whatever they wanna call themselves.

DON´T BOTHER ME

...I´m sick, been sick all day, possessed by some wild headache, pain, whatever, non weather related, just a result of a lack of sleep, let´s see if this way I´ll be able to attract Caroline´s attention; haven´t seen her in a while. Edith would be heading back to college in a few days and I still had a lot of work to do on my new studio. I wore a beanie cap and to some it seemed kinda funny but not to me...stupid headaches of Hell, hope they don´t turn into migraines...must rest, need some rest.

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Please don´t bother to read this as it slowly fails to make sense, but if it does tell me. Repetition ensures immortality and considering it´s already a spiritual number let´s see how far I can get.

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 "That is so creepy, it reminds of the stuff the guy from The Shining was typing, " said Edith very indiscreetly.

"Oh, thank you, but I´m pretty sure I did the same thing in my painting, remember, 1:11 AM?

"Yes, I know that one. Come on we got lots of of work to do on back at Chelsea."

Housework never stops but it´s not eternal.
 

1/11/11 (continued):

Don´t bother me I´m in the creative process. Just this morning I had a revelation about a rabbit with silver fur.

Have you ever seen how the snow shines so brightly against the Sun? That´s the way he looked. He was standing on its two feet wearing a sort of blue shirt. He was just being there. I wonder if I was supposed to follow him somewhere.

"Why the blue now? Is it another period?" said Edith acting a little bit curious.

"No, it´s just a revelation."

I drew it on my large sketchbook. More evidence for this new year. I found out two other paintings got sold; 1:11 and Handle With Care. Now that I know how incredibly important these mystery numbers are perhaps I should be more careful. I reviewed most of my blog entries and they still make sense. Ms. King  said my dreams would come true, what she didn´t tell me is that they didn´t quite happened as I expected.

You see, that time I saw Edith wearing a cloak and opened my chest releasing butterflies was the meaning of a new journey, the light at the end of the tunnel but first I had to overcome one of my worst fears; the ghost of Lisa Summers.

(continued)...

1/11/11

Something´s changing inside of me, an invisible force flowing, like electricity. I close my eyes and all I see is rabbits, small ones probably. There was a small brown one and a white one with shiny fur like silver, but mostly white ones, yes...

"Are you talking in your sleep, sweetie?"

"I´m doing it again, I´m doing it again. Multiplication is happening before my eyes. You add up the ones of this day and whaddaya get? 5, the number of the Hierophant. It´s time to drive my children through a safe path in the middle of the night. They want me because they know I have the right answers, I can see it, it´s so clear like the sky above me...

"Well, in case you were wondering the snow storm has ended."

"It can´t snow all the time either, ow..."

"What now?"

"I think I´m experiencing a hangover in its full splendor..."

"What a lovely way to begin this year, huh?"

"Sure, sure, sure..."

"Do you have any idea what you just said?"

"´Bout what?"

"I´ll write it down. I´ll tell you later, go back to sleep..."

She kissed me and hugged like a huge teddy bear. If it hadn´t been for her I would never had remembered these revelations I got.

(continued).