Strike the picture to 'download' Caspar Freake being interviewed on SPINTALK with Jack and Ali on Dublin's SPIN 1038 - Friday 24th May 2002. The 'Interview' is 1.6 MB and 9 minutes in length. Strike the picture. When the box opens choose 'Save As' and begin your download of the SPINTALK Interview with Caspar Freake.

May 2002 Issue of dSide Magazine Interview with Caspar Freake and Mordi Kildare. To purchase a copy of the issue - contact dside@iol.ie

Undead, I rise. From mountains crumbled to the sea, I rise. From dust of acrid dust and death of sacred death I rise. I rise, I weep, I rage, and now truly I thirst for blood! But revenge, say the Arabs, is a dish best eaten cold. Assuredly, it will be cold. How "small" an act this really was. How cowardly and futile. How even laughable! To think that Liberty can be bribed with terror. To think we can be frightened away from Freedom. What pinched and parsimonious minds, what disingenuous aims, what a depraved and monstrous deception of the soul. To those who dies in this attack, I pledge my sacred honor.

To those vigilant knights moreover who labored in the magestic towers, I pledge these very streets. Give me Liberty or Give me Death, yes, but I shall also liberate the dead! I will walk with you here. I will drink and make merry with you, and rattle the rafters, shake the trees, ring the churchbells, and make the night roar. To you, our beloved visitors, I thank you all for your concern. I am safe and sound, thank Heaven. My friends and loved ones are also still alive. Shortly after the great towers fell in that unthinkable implosion, I walked the streets of the disaster area, not ten blocks from my home. It seemed I were in a war on another planet in the far future. To say I have seen nothing like it in 371 years is a gross understatement. I have had no nightmare that approaches it. Through blinding evil dust I spotted hastily written words, fingered on some surface in an inch of dust. They were a typical New Yorker, certainly, always getting in the last word, and even in the face of unspeakable adversity. They had written "THIS WON'T STOP NEW YORK." 

It won't, my friends. Come hell or high water, it won't. 

Casper Freake.
 

Board up your windows with nails of six-inch! Man with 'youth of valour' the ramparts, all roads and gates to a city's entry shut tight against the winds of fury! Bury your trinkets beneath the flagstones...yet clutter not your lives now, for less is more than you can bear to possess in this, a ridged time of madness, slaughter, dissent and grief. Gather up your winter seed and lecherous heifer! Scatter sharpened shards of flint about your thresholds, and holler "Revenge! Revenge!" Eye the once lovable stranger with stealth and contempt! Clothe your children and your innocent in the drab of suspicion. Cancel voyages...all departure plans alike. Fold your eyelids to the future of hope. Cast out the cretin of mischief and greet with flaying arms the advancing Man Of War. A bloody gush from the lip as one bites down in a bitter and final 'SNAP!'..the lower lip sliding off, revealing a wolf-like snarl. Oh humankind...ye are warring, once again! Oh humankind...when shall you learn to spot pain from a distance!

'Tis 'Herself' no doubt, feeding our anger now, after the first torrent has all but washed us up. Ruella Retribution cometh. And we? Her constant watch now! She eyes us…musing vaguely  "What now shall they begin? Would Wars bear Wars on War's Own Thrust? And if so…what then be 'my' design?"

'Twas midday in Dublin when, upon my methods to receive worldly news, I bent an ever disbelieving ear to the word that The Centre Of World Trade was then indeed under siege. Such news...hideous….such calamity and massive loss, which I, as you, have witnessed. And how horrific to learn that to their finality these poor souls were cast, helpless to escape, still clutching styrofoam coffee cups and warm telephone handles. Some, in desperate hope to spare themselves, leaping from those dizzying heights like doves with broken wings. Others holding hands in love, facing with courage the raging engulf of flame and brimstone all about. And as we watched our human fellows go, we all in our own way prayed for their souls...said our goodbyes across the mil...and have relived their nightmare over and over and over again since.

But now...they are safe, once again.

They are simply 'asleep', together. Three Thousand friends and lovers, three thousand innocent children...gazing down upon us from that place from which we, our very selves, shall all, in time, have a stark yet peaceful view . So, to those of us left behind, I say thus: take a moment to be at peace in and with 'yourself' and all about you. Make memory of this horrendous loss, with the one small comfort that although the Heroes and Heroines who toiled for the remains of those who passed in the fires and falling towers are still in labour's endless grip, they shall not be unearthing 'Sorrowful Souls'. For these magnificent Souls are elsewhere to be found now. They are in the Place of All Places, intact, swimming, healthy, already in childlike state once again...laughing and playing like Lilies over tranquil summer-day ponds. Our friends are well. Our friends are more alive now than you or I have yet to be.

And so, although these brave passing Souls have bid us all adieu for now....we 'shall' meet each one, once again, on the Shores of Ever-Love. We shall find them waiting for us all. I pray, alongside my lasting companion Caspar Freake that we the inhabitants of this maddening planet shall wake up one sweet clear morning, stretch our limbs, hop out of our slumber-nests, and open our eyes to a day during which we finally decide once and for all upon what it is 'exactly' that we want from this Earthy Life. We live here temporarily, in bodies we painfully get accustomed to. We walk, talk, grow and learn something. We try to achieve something. Then we leave, in one way or another. But through all of this, our short lives, do we ever decide what it is that we should truly be doing whilst here, and what it is that we truly want? Fellow Irishman Oscar Wilde once penned: "There are 'two' tragedies to life. One is 'getting what we want'. The other…not getting it." 

Surely, before tragedy befalls us all, we might decide upon what it is we should be doing here in life, and what it is that we each want in life?

I know what it is that 'I' want. I want a new day for all now, clear and untouched by yesterday's sin, soothing and warm of weather, touch, and word. I want the generous abundance of 'any man's land' to be a provision for all fellows. I want religious clerics presently in convenient hiding throughout the world to get their fat stale arses off red leather chairs and come out onto the streets together, and between them, put seed to a Bright New Fruit, the taste of which shall please "every tongue". For how in heaven can their be so many Gods? There can only be one, or then if not one...perhaps we should dig up the ancient contemplation that there are many. (Where are The Druids when we need them most? We would, of course, disarm them first!)

I want us all to be together again, facing a lifetime of days just like these. For...if it is over THE GOOD GOD that we are once again destroying each other, it strikes me cold in my tracks, this very thought: 

That all these horrific attacks of war of past days, months and year are hardly the work of THE GOOD GOD. Nor would HE wish that we war in HIS NAME. 'Tis not, these horrendous acts of terror, the work of THE GOOD GOD. 

Actions of war, any war...bear the 'unmistakable fingerprints' of 'THE BAD BASTARD'. And I believe that it is 'he' who is presenting himself in many locations across the Earth, and in blatent, defiant poise. 

This, my dear readers, is quite a worrying contemplation. We are, without doubt, living here on Earth under a greater threat now. We should do well to DEFY his presence! 

Mordi Kildare.
 

BERLIN (March 22) - German police have detained a Berlin woman who screamed she was a vampire and thirsty as she attempted to bite people.

''She tried to bite the necks of three people within a few minutes,'' police spokesman Hansjoerg Draeger said on Thursday. ''She screamed out that she was a vampire and was thirsty.'' 

The 21-year-old woman, identified only as Laura E., was put under psychiatric observation after she also tried to bite her fingers off, police said. She first tried to bite the neck of a 20-year-old woman at a doctor's surgery, however the victim managed to escape. 

She then went into a fast-food restaurant and bit the neck of a 40-year-old waiter. Police said she then ran out onto the street where she first cut the neck of an 88-year-old pensioner with a piece of broken glass and then bit the elderly woman's ear. Two police officers called to the scene managed to detain her, but she repeatedly bit their hands and arms.

Ninety-seven-year-old Heather de Kaye, sometime socialite from Manhattan's Upper East Side ("Yorkville!" she insists on calling it) swears she had a fling with him in the 'twenties. But nanogenarian party girls just don't make cutting edge screed in the tabloid market. Or so we thought. And so we filed the blurb under "Senile gossip from the Cosmopolitan Club" and forgot about it. All but useless. Until a freelancer snapped this picture at a new club on Lafayette street called "The Institute." We have it from a coven of the inscrutably hep that this is the reclusive Casper Freake...