The Lonely Life of Seaman dAev
by:dAev f. dembinski
Well, my dear readers, since even a casual glance at the header should have piqued your collective curiosity, I will now relate the story of my fall from grace. It is a sordid and twisted tale, from my reign on high as the Almighty Daev to my startling plummet and eventual reincarnation as Seaman dAev. So put your feet up and lean back, but not far enough to fall out of your chair since I can assume no responsibility for any damage, physical or otherwise(read "mental"), incurred in the reading of this piece.
10 months ago, I crawled from the Great American Brain-Deficiency Swamp and started The HOLD, the very magazine you are now reading. I enlisted Dolomite to pen his thoughts on the state of politics in the nation, but thankfully he ignored me and started Ranting. All i needed now was some poetry. This proved akin to pulling teeth without the aid of a powerful anesthetic. But somehow, through loss of much sleep and hair, I scrounged up enough to put out the first issue by it's scheduled date, August 1, 1998.
After that, things went pretty smoothly, putting out an issue about every two weeks and life was good. Then, one day, when I was correcting the great Dolo's odious spelling, I fell into a trance. I was instantly transported to a pure land, completely white, devoid of form or shape or air or anything but I, in my astral form and clothed in brown and green. I stood up and looked around in wonder, and the very time I did I heard a buzzing like insects. It grew slowly louder, until it seemd that I'd become myself nothing but sound, my entire existence existed beside a wavelength, testament to the killing force of creational university and then it stopped. Silence. Everything went black and the next thing I saw was waves of robotic amber creatures bowing low and chanting the name you know now, Almighty Daev.
It was a little after this that everything started to break down. Dolomite had been running a small prostitution ring, and the cops had gotten a hold of his little black book. Now, this didn't concern me greatly, until I realized that my name was in it. Not having a superabundance of common sense, he'd neglected to distinguish between the phone numbers of his customers and those of his acquaintances, making it appear that everyone in his book was a whoremonger. So I went into hiding. What else could I do? Of course, I had to change my name and occupation, but to what? Fate answered these questions soon enough
.
I was ambling along the docks, nursing a hot dog and worrying about the fuzz, when it happened. You know the old story. Boy meets girl. Girl kicks boy. Boy stumbles off dock. Boy latches onto passing ship's anchor like human barnacle. Sea monster kills ship's crew. Boy floats aimlessly along the seven seas until he can figure out where the hell the engine room is.
So here I be, mateys, going slowly insane and journalizing my thoughts for you beautiful, landlubberly readers. Don't ask me how I'm getting these writings off the ship and onto the internet if I'm stranded in the middle of the ocean. I don't know. And even if I did, it probably wouldn't make a lick of sense.
Seaman dAev
