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Welcome readers of the Deringer Files and unsuspecting travelers. This is a personal journal and within these digital pages are contained the private thoughts and writings of one Victor L. Vogt – known to some as Dash Deringer, and it is important to remember that this is a personal journal when reading though I have chosen to make these writing public they have nothing to do with the reader – the voyeur, the spectator... you - the outsider looking in to my thoughts, ideas, theories, poetry, art, and the tales of my failed romances... of which you can be sure there are many... your letters are welcomed... but unlike a blog – this journal does not care about the offended... The Deringer Files never has had any corporate sponsors or taken advertiser dollars (but if this project is successful enough you might see some here), so I have always been able to say as I please without fear of someone pulling out my income – I am self employed (self sustained I like to say) and make money while still being able to state my opinions - as contradictory to the herd as they may be, without fears... I don't actually deal with the public any more... (kinda). In deciphering this journal – which some may have to if you are new to these writings, understand that many times I am addressing some one in these words – for example you may come across a sentence that says “my sons” or actually addressing some person by name – I am talking to them – Veronica... my unborn sons... friends... tribe... and you my dear reader... This journal is raw and many times it will be absolute chaos... unedited and random... as personal journals tend to be... there will be short stories here – things I always wanted to post at DF but for whatever reason (lazy) did not post on-line... much of it will still be in the development stages and unfinished... these writings are from my digital journal mostly... and maybe pages scanned from pen and paper... doodles and drawings and such... Your opinions and feelings mean nothing to me – if you choose to look inside another's mind you do so at your own free will... I curse... I howl, and I growl... I spit out racial slurs without concern for those who are not there... do you censor your own thoughts? Are you afraid of the thought police... Is the thought crime squad after you... maybe... but I don't care... Some of this may and will drift off to the fringe and to the dark side... and topics that you may not want to read about – again... this is my life – though I state many times that my life is actually quite boring... some days the demons catch up to me and my mental state tilts a bit... and some days I just stumble into a mess already in progress... and when I say mess... I mean the shit gets totally fucked up... So here it is for your sick voyeuristic pleasure – The Deringer Files... do with it what you will. Dash Deringer


The Rogue Priest 10-3-2017

I struck up a conversation with a man my age during lunch today – I gauged him as I always do when I meet new people to get his views of the modern world to see if he could be tribe – though we are not taking in new members we do have a side list of potentials which we do invite to outings sometimes. We covered many topics in a short time and then he tells me this strange story about a priest that visited his church not too long ago – we got on this subject because we were discussing Russia... any how... he tells me this priest that has been visiting churches through New Mexico stopped at his church here at Santa Teresa – and spoke about some apocalyptic stuff – this man (we'll call him TR) says the priest told the congregation that now is the time to start praying and to get closer to their creator and that God has granted Vladimir Putin power to destroy America if the US does not change its ways... and TR asked me if I believe that and all I could do was nod somberly... yes, I told him... I absolutely believe that – that country has embraced it's Orthodox roots and has returned to their traditions and resembles (almost) an America from another time. But after a pause he says to me that a few days after the priest was at his church his wife told him that there were a couple of heavy looking fellows come around asking about the priest and what he spoke about and trying to get names of people that heard his sermon... And I was thrown back by that... so I recap his tale – to see I got it all straight – there is a priest going around churches in New Mexico talking about some apocalyptic shit and there are heavy looking dudes after him... so I ask is this priest on the lamb? TR shrugs his shoulders and I ask if any one has heard anything about him before or since this visit and he says no... and I ask if there is anybody from the church that heard the priest speak missing and he shrugs his shoulders... but I could see that his mind was working over time and that he was starting to get nervous... and I put my hand on his shoulders and say it'll be alright... and I change the subject and tell him about the tribe... and give him a number for him to reach me at... But then he started talking about the priest again – and he asks me if I think the priest may be some sort of prophet and I say “maybe but I did not see him – you did”... and then I say maybe he's not a priest but just hiding out as a priest – what if he just happens to be a person who knows what is happening and is disguising himself as a priest so that he can get the word out to people and have an audience that will listen – the church... and he is traveling from town to town till he reached Mexico... and now we will never hear from him again because he is trying to warn people and get to some place safe... or


those heavy dudes have caught him and he has been erased... along with his message. Or maybe... he is some sort of Holy man... and those men in black are out to stop him... Strange... but not the strangest story I have been told.

Still Looking For A Home...

I am still looking for a place where I belong, a place that I can say this is my home and these my people... this is my land and here I will leave behind a legacy for those that come after me. Where is that place – Deringerville... only in my mind and in a quiet valley in my heart right now, but where will I build it.. where indeed is that perfect place between the mountains and the sea... where the seasons come as promised in picture postcards, where the sun shines bright enough to keep us healthy and the breeze blows cool enough to keep us happy... where the snows and the rains are to be played in and the glow of the moon inspires... where the stars come down so close we can almost reach up and stroke them. Wuakegan, (Lake County) Illinois has been the place that has come close to being the place I felt most at home at. It was on the side of a big body of water and the seasons came on schedule, I was away from my family but close to men in the network in Chicago, and Wuakegan was between Chicago and Milwakee Wisconsin so I could get on the train and go to either town on the weekends, but Wuakegan was small enough of a town and close enough to metropolis to keep me sane and healthy but not bored for the arts of the city – the museums and galleries and theaters... plus I could drive to the coutry side as well. Of course all I did in those days was work from sun up to past sun down and chase skirts when I could find the time – but really I was finding so many new interrests back then that I had women at the bottom of my priorities – but that is when the women started chasing me. Valparaiso is a colorfull small port town built on hills dotted with bright houses and the pacific ocean to the west – it is beautiful, and in many ways it reminds me of Wuakegan. Life is easy here in this village by the sea but is it home? Not yet – not truly... but I have not spent enough time here to figure it out – I have been told that home is where the


heart is... if that is true then home for me would be in Japan... and Mexico... and Mexico is what my instincts tell me... for my dreams are in Spanish and the songs my soul wants to sing are Mexican... I am not Japanese and if I wanted to leave the world behind an disappear again I would stand out in Japan but I can very easily loose myself among my own in Mexico... But here is something that for me is very interesting – Dagmar said we could flee to the Black Sea – did she perhaps have Odessa in mind – because that city is on my list – I wonder how she knew that... when she says things like that I can only wonder if it is true that girl knows me... I am sure that she gets me... but does she really know me – has she actually made the effort to try to figure me out - no one ever has before... and she always knows to tell me that we should just sail away - whenever she brings up the subject of us two just vanishing she knows to tell me that we will be close to the sea if not actually on it... Maybe... just maybe... But still... where is the shore line for my twilights... is it somewhere in Russia... down the coast of Chile... Those magical islands of Japan... Yucatan...

Not Quite A Random Shooting (A Theory) 10-11-2017

I often wonder whenever there is some shooting where many people are killed and injured, if it was not done purposely in order to throw the police off the plot, that it was only done to target one specific individual or certain people in a crowd. I think the same thing about airplane crashes and train wrecks – were they done just to get rid of one man – some one of importance that the world does not actually know or realize just how important – perhaps some one who just happened to stumble upon some great secret or an inventor that could destroy an industry... or some one that has gotten to close to open doors and connecting dots that he should have stayed away from... or maybe the heir to a great fortune that does not know he is... I remember when I watched the first Jack Reacher film (have never read Lee Childs) and I got the plot of it before they announced it – it is highly possible for an actual mass


shooting event to be staged in order to off one person – they are staged many times in order to push an agenda – gun control using crises actors – I do believe this to be the case in many recent events, and I do believe that there are equally as many legitimate ones... but I do not believe that things just happen – that certain events or evidence happens to be coincidental... no, that I do not believe – in anything. I believe that in some cases patsies were used - Boston, the London Tunnel bomber from a few years back... and others where there is evidence of crises actors and lack of evidence of an actual event – a drill gone live – how convenient... and I believe in the reality of assassins... that must be killed off or that commit suicide before they can be questioned or given a day in court... first rule of assassination is... kill the assassin. I think about the Rogue Priest – wandering a crowd some place minding his own business... thinking that he is safe from those 'Heavy Dudes' that are after him... he buys a soda and a burger, maybe, and sits down at a table outside some little eatery... it's midday and office workers are out for lunch and without a warning... a shot is heard but the sound echoes off the walls of the city... and another one rings out before the first body hits the floor... and another... and another... By the time the chaos and the madness settles... a city intersection is covered with blood... 15 souls were released from the prison of their bodies and at least a dozen wounded that will still be able to go back to work and pay their share of taxes... for a couple, charitable foundations have been set up a day or two before the incident... by whom and exactly what the money will be used for is anybodies guess... and among the dead... a priest... or at least we heard he was a priest... or was he an unfortunate homeless American that no-one knows or cares about... just an unfortunate John Doe at the wrong place at the wrong time... like the others... film at eleven.

The Lonely Neighbor October 19, 2017 There is a man in the neighborhood that I see all the time – I do not know his name but we always do greet eachother, and have small talk now and then... when I see him from far away I wave at him and he waves back. He always smiles at me... at everyone in the neighborhood... he is a quiet and shy and unassuming man... he is my age. He walks with his head down and he walks slow and with a slight limp, he mostly keeps to himself but makes some money sweeping the sidewalks and driveways of the neighbors, he rakes up the leaves in the fall and if some one needs a hand he will help for a few


pesos... and then... he walks over to the store and spends that money on booze... everyday... a couple of times a day he walks down to the store to get beer or hard liquer... and quietly makes his way back home suspicious of the world - he looks around to see if he has been followed... and enters the gate of his little building. I wonder often when I see this man – that could very easliy been me... What happened to him... what broke him? What was he like as a young man... what where his dreams? Was he in some accident... war... what? I feel for the guy – he is not a burdon on society that I know of... he bothers no one and he works as he can for his drinking money... but I just can't help but wonder what broke this man and made him this way – he is not a bum... this is a nice neighborhood... some are better off than others but no one is hurting – but this gentle creature who drowns his demons in a bottle – alone... that man could very easily be me... fucking hell. At least he has a place to live... and something keeps him holding on... but how close to the edge is he really?

RANDOM THOUGHTS

– What the hell is a life partner and why am I hearing this term so much lately? It sounds very gay – is it one of those gay terms... I hear women say it and faggoty men... “my life partner”... what the fuck? This is some modern world term for your baby daddy? Your partner who hasn't taken you to the cleaners yet... Dash Deringer is not looking for a partner but full commitment baby doll... a wife and mother for my children... you stay home and hold down the fort, my hot momma, and daddy will go get the food and kill the invaders... till death do us part... I aint looking for an equal fifty-fifty life partner... that isn't going to work for me... I'll stear the ship through the still waters and the rough seas and you... keep the passengers and crew calm and entertained... while looking pretty... yup... a ship can't have two captains... a tribe can't have two chiefs... The sound of 'partner' just lacks conviction and sincerity... not for me... you can keep your life partner bullshit.


– The crazy chem-trail patterns start early in the morning in El Paso – you can actually see where they start and stop over the city... funny that looking up at the sky over Juarez - there are no chem-trail... and there are no trails in the sky over no-where little towns... wonder why... what's up with that? Just my mind working ove-time for answers it won't find... – I shot one of those fancy bows today – with the pullies and engineered to be perfectly balanced and all that technical stuff... looks heavy and intimidating... but... it was actually pretty awesome – one of those big things that you see on the bow hunting videos... thought I would not like it... but yeah... awesome stuff there... I like my old fashioned long bows... but... Dash could be making some changes to his armory... – Buscuits and gravy for breakfast... a dangerous and genius plan... who came up with that? - that person is a hero... – when I was young my face was covered in acne – and I was ugly and I got teased for it a lot – it cleared up on its own... thank God... a have told people about my pimpled up face and they look close at it and say – but you don't even have any acne scars... but I knew they were there... I looked in the mirror today and noticed that all those scars from the acne and the beatings and the falls are starting to show – it's like something is happening to my skin... and I am afraid – a bit – of those scars covering my face... especially since it took such a long time for me to grow into this face and turn into this man... with this face... those ugly scars will ruin my well worked out plan... fucking hell... – Saw that film The Kingsmen – after so many people telling me about it – the sequal is out now – but I saw this video of PJW talking about it and the guys in the crew told me about it – I actually had fun watching it – it has been a long time since I had fun like that watching a movie – even though it had that Sam Jackson in it – I can't stand him - he just does not belong in many of the movies he has been in – the token black guy – he can't act... but I did like that movie... hope the sequal isn't fucked up by HOLLYWOOD... – I saw something very interresting in El Paso a week ago that I keep thinking about – some one took a small school bus and turned it into a barber shop on wheels... had a sign in the side and the back that said “the bus of cuts” not to keen on the name but the idea is wonderfull... it was parked across the street from a car wash I was tempted to step in but I was short on time... don't know when I will see it again or where it will even be – since it is roaming – great idea... hope


there are no women in there cutting the hair... that would suck...what else could you put in a converted bus – barber shop, coffee house, roaming disco, something that caters to women to spend money they don't have on... – Well, the Boy Scouts of America is now letting girls in – I pulled my support from them with the gay change... so. Now it's girls... what the fuck... and these crazy bitches still complain they can't find any good men when they are taking away every chance a boy has of becoming one – here's what is going to happen in tewnty years - all the young men that can't get laid and can't get a girlfriend because they are too nice and week... they are going to go on a raping and killing rampage... and it will be just another orchestrated, carefully planned moment of chaos... to prove that white men are eveil rapist... “see, we told you so...” – I have been a promoter for a long time – doing my own shows and working with others and I have seen women do some degrading and discussing things – willingly, just to get back stage with the band or to get close to some wanna be gangster rapper and get a picture and mayby have sex with them – I have had women on their knees in front of me letting me use their throats for my own damn pleasure... women whose names I have never known and faces I have long forgotten that meant absolutely nothing to me... all so that they can get to hang out with the artist... and take a selfie... Don't tell me that women did not drop to their knees of their own free will for Harvey Weinstein – for the promise of fame and fortune... give me a fucking break...ask a roady what women do to get to party with the band... – When was the last time we heard stories of a woman saying that “a rock star raped me?” We have heard stories of athletes raping and abusing their girlfriends and wives and actors and producers doing the same... but rock stars is rare... women throw themselves at rockstars and offer themselves up to them freely... strange... I shoulda' been a rocker... fucking hell... – The biggest (most muscular) guy in the gang has no game he tells us – he just doesn't know how to talk to women, how to act or behave with them and really does prefer being alone – he is very intelligent and well read... but has no idea how to get girls... lucky for him he has built the body he has, because he can do whatever the hell he wants to do as far as the rest of us are concerned... and the women fall for him everywhere... he just smiles and keeps his mouth shut – mostly because he has no game and doesn't want to fuck it up... and let's the women grope him and faun over him... but for a guy that has no game he can get whatever girl he wants... but he says those chicks are just to easy... and wants a girl that is modest and feminine and... simple and not so sluttish... good luck budy.


together


girl with a funny face she doesn't really have a funny face... I just draw it funny


I have a short fuze and I require much alone time just to help restore my energy after interracting with civilians – non tribe... even spending too much time with tribe I need to balance that out in the stillness of my solitude. And then there is that hungry demon inside of me – in order to keep him from breaking free of the chains – I need good soft music and candle-light and the familiarity of my surroundings... and many times, the quiet of a forgotten space deep in a forest. I am, my sons, a very confident and relaxed man – that took many years to achieve but I do carry a lot of anger in me and I can very easily let that soft and gentle manner that I show the world turn into the fury of hell... like the HULK – very much like the way I can turn the seduction on and off as I please, I can switch from a nice and caring man into a cruel and heartless bastard... though these days I feel like I may be loosing control of the leash and any little thing makes me want to punch a faggot – and by faggot I reffer to all civilians... Many of the men in the gang are the same – only a few of the older men have actually learned to let go of that anger and are some of the most relaxed men I have ever met – not much can faze them and they have control of their emotions – but I am an emeotional creature and I really don't know if I want to bottle up my passion – it is that creative part of me – that requires it, you see... even the anger and the hatred has it's place – I believe... plus many of the women that I chase after and that chase after me absolutely love the passion and the darkness I carry inside... even the 'nice' girls... you can't fool me. But this world - I really can not take too much more of it... it's society of filth – which I did take part in for a very long time... until the hunger of my soul for something more purposeful... wrapped in honor and nobility and perfumed with beauty... could not be ingnored anymore... I think I know now what it is that I truly want – to create... and what the meaning of it is for me – to preserve the beauty of the past that got us here... and my purpose – Deringerville... with or without help – it is crying out from the spirit realm to be made real... and yes, part of my intention for wanting it is for financial gain... but I do believe that there are others that need a new home... this is that home... this is my


dream... my purpose... my destiny... I have known it for some time but I accept it and humble myself now before it... but will it rock the demon into silence or should I use that beast to drive me tward my dream as I have done with everything else before... And even if I only built a small place and choose not to share it with any one but my family... it is what I will leave behind... it is what my children's children will know me by – “this is what the old man did with his life...” Will I find peace there – in a place I sculpt out of my own dreams... Will that demon abandone me for another poet in need of the angry fires of desire that the muses only tease and tempt the hungry artist with... Will I no longer be this man – that I have also sculpted out of my mind... that man, which in all honesty, is nothing more than the mirror image of that demon... and all the things he hungers for...

Memories of old Colognes

Preferred Stock – a lighter more subtle shade of Drakkar Noir... relaxing and soothing... woodsy and masculine oriental. Best for fall season – evening and night... or for solitary moments alone. A walk in a Japanese forest after a rainfall in Autumn with smoke from a camp in the distance and spices from a cottage garden drifting in the air. The Baron – perhaps the most unique men's fragrance I have ever come across – truly unique... flowery and perhaps a bit feminine – but elegant and sophisticated... for casual – semi-formal afternoon affairs... and early evening garden parties... smells like a candy store. The first time I wore this in high school – I will never forget... Kim H. - a busty brunette that still gives me a raging hard on when I think of her, stretched her arms up exposing those big titties to the world (they were under her sweater of course), she turned to look right at me and says - “whose wearing The Baron... Victor... are you wearing the


Baron?” and the whole class turns to look at me... and I give her an almost smile with an almost nod and she smiles big at me and says “I love The Baron... my father wears it...” and all the guys turned away but all the girls kept looking at me... unforgettable. Do they still make it? If so... note to self – put it back into the rotation. Stetson – does not smell as one would imagine... (rugged and brutish... and rustic) – it is refined and powdery but distinct and stands out... like Old Spice... stetson is a classic manly scent built on reputation and gift sets from children and wives to fathers... not a bad way to build an empire.... Best for the fall season – just as fall turns to winter... it is a lodge and winter resort aroma... made for cuddling close to the fireplace. Pierre Cardin – One of my most favorite Orientals – though, like all the others, the original formula has been toyed with – Pierre Cardin, in its most unique bottle, has retained a lot of its magic – sweet spices... cinnamon... and fire... It smells like Christmas... It is in my opinion the smell of the Holiday Season... most definitely made for winter – because it is warming – to the spirit and the mind. It is Christmas eve with your closest friends and Christmas morning with your family... and New Years night with a stranger in a lonely train station cafe... but it is magic... comforting and relaxing and wraps you in nostalgia... Aramis – There is something bitter in it that I can taste in the back of my mouth – it has always been something I have worn since I started wearing cologne – it was my first and it has been my everyday go to scent – all business – I think sophisticated... and a bit rustic in the undertones... Still can't figure out what they were going for with this one... but I like it... even the bitterness of it... chicks dig it... well... A certain type... best for suits - day and night... Money... it reminds me of money... for some reason... and power... spiritual and mental power that comes from working hard for all your money... for some reason...


Maybe I have been too hard on these MGTOW. After all... I go my own way and I have actually vanished into the underground before... or that is what I will tell you. And this gang we have built is made up of alphas and sigmas and lone wolves that would rather spend their free time left the hell alone – but they know that alone they will not survive and they do have hopes of leaving children behind – for what other reason is there to want to survive... And the men in our tribe have hopes of building a better world – or at the very least slowing down the fall of our society... though there are some of us that would like to torch it all and dance around the fire in drunken fury... but... There are times – such as now when I just have had enough of women and society completely and wish I had never returned to the states – and once I have completely tied up all those loose ends I will never be coming back – I have money and resources... so I do not have to make excuses for the things I say and having an opinion, and I have accepted the fact that I might not ever get married and raise children – but then what is the point of stacking the gold and chasing my dreams of Deringerville if there are no children to leave a legacy behind for... I do have opposing sides to my personality – my whole being – like that comic character with a demon on one shoulder whispering into his ear and an angel on the other... is it because I am Pisces... I want to chase after the good and the noble... and some days I just don't give a fuck and want to light the fires and walk away with whats left of my mind... Men who do not care about anything are the worse kind of men I think – they are dangerous and may drift off (some willingly) into a life of crime and become more of the problem... they have nothing to lose... so why not... they will take what they want when they want it and contribute nothing to make a better community all justified that the world lied to them... used them up and they walked away with what they had left... the truth and their balls... what else do you need... no more mister nice guy... Or... there are those that will use it to drive them to learn to make money, stack their cash and go find greener pastures... where the money flows and young feminine women want them there... who wouldn't like that... So where do I sit on the issue... go your own way gentlemen... go... but have a purpose in life... have something that gives meaning to the things you do... the world will not all collapse at once – there is and there always must be a balance and as things go to shit in one part of the world there will always be a place on the other side that keeps it all from going sideways... I don't know what the hell I am trying to say... it's one of those days...


DREAMS OF DERINGERVILLE


Evolution of a palace


In the village where your father grow up in, there was an old abandoned cottage – a two room stone structure - stone and mud I think it was... I found it, and camped in it one night... there was a big ole' hole where the roof should be... no light or water. There is an old photograph of it in your fathers office – just in the back-ground of a picture of him when he was a younger man... do you know the one I am talking about? Did he ever tell you about it – it was abandoned even when he was a boy... he did not know for just how long that place had been empty... not sure if anyone around even knew, he told me... but the children would go there to hide out and play and dream and to make out with the girls when they could... I think of that place... and I would wonder – some times... If you might have been happy there – with me... a bed that looks up at the night sky – because you won't let me build a new roof... no water running through the well... rocks and dirt for a garden... no dreams to remember or forget for miles in this sad little house that time threw away and love abandoned so long ago that there is no one around any more who can make up lies about the man that built it... like some abandoned lost civilization that mad explorers and science can't make any sense of... and easier than rewriting history... we'll all just ignore it and hope that it crumbles completely and maybe the winds will blow the dusty echoes of it's poems and potery and dreams of the promises of love away... I wonder if this little house ever knew the whispers of romance or the laughter of children... what took these people away... did they go chasing after a dream in the new world... did war drive them away... did a son bury his parents somewhere here in the dirt and wander off to the sea - and take the hopes of his father to a greener land... some mountain or valley filled with sheep... or did he let himself grow old alone leaving no trace of his people for the world to write songs about?There are not even lost spirits lingering about... to bother us... no angels to argue with in the early morning glow... no demons come around to bargain with for peace of mind or delusional glory... no gypsies selling dances and songs and seductive potions for silver and gold... maybe... this is not such a good place to go - to be alone... there is nothing there to inspire or hold the attention of my muse... nothing there to conjure up the tempest of my desires... nothing there the phantoms of my forgotten lovers would cross the quantum seas of time for... But if I could bruise my back and cut my hands building a world for you there... would you stay... if I bled on the soil to plant a crop for you and sold another piece of my soul for rain and lost my mind in prayer for springs of fresh water to burst from the ground... would you believe me when I look at you... with out having to tell you... if we stay one more night... I will never go back to the world... And here... we too will be forgotten...


So You Don't Have Any Friends...

What are you going to do cry about it... 'course you're not... you're a lone wolf... you're a wandering monk on a dangerous spiritual quest... a lost spirit on the long lonely road of redemption that the outcast must travel in solitude... a ghost – in the fucking machine... Or... you you're just an anti-social introvert that thinks a big chunk of the world are nothing but a bunch of pussy loser faggots walking around in a trance and they are not worth your time and energy and you are waiting for the days of fire to come so you can shove 'em all into the pits of hell... maybe that's just me... Well... what you gonna do until that day comes – since you have no friends? You have this free time on your hands with out people to interrupt your precious solitude. When you are not working and stacking your cash you are reading – you are learning how to invest that money. You are learning how to day trade and swing trade and how to make investments for the long run – mutual funds and bonds... and when you are ready you will swim with the sharks. You find a subject that you are interested in learning – something that you can be passionate about, something that you want to become an expert in – some thing that you will be knowledgeable in that you can write about it and teach a course in... like offshore banking and asset protection... or designing software... what ever it is you want to reach the point where you can become a consultant at it and make an income from it. You are working out – your body, your mind, and your soul... you are strengthening your body for your benefit – for your health and to build confidence and self respect... plus the chicks will dig it... and you will need the muscle to throw the weak and degenerate into the fire. You are strengthening your mind for confidence as well, to help you think for yourself by making informed decisions and hard choices without hesitation... and you strengthen your soul in prayer and meditation and contemplation to give weight to your convictions, and your purpose and to transform you into a force of nature. You are learning a series of skills that will help you become more self reliant and increase your value within your community or tribe, skills that you can trade for hard currency or keep you well sheltered and at the top of the food chain when the shit hits the fan – construction and electrical maintenance and repair, mechanical and technical trades will always be good as well as hunting and cultivation along with some know-how in fighting and soldiering will do you good – this also will help you build confidence as well as help you fill your piggy bank.


You can also learn a new language or an artistic skill – you of course should be writing, but you can learn to paint or become a photographer, you can learn to sculpt or play a musical instrument and compose music, you can develop a side hustle that you can work in the evenings and week-ends. You can take these skills that you have developed in time and teach them to others – become a Japanese tutor or teach martial arts or self defense, open up your own studio and give art classes or teach photography... master the culinary arts and create a side hustle from that... friends will get in the way of achievement and many times your close friends will turn on you once you start to show signs of self improvement and success... cut them loose and go your on way and use your time wisely not only to improve yourself but to help you reach a higher place physically, economically and spiritually.

Illustration for “The Barons of Celica”


A Moment in Nature I fell to my knees and let the pack slide off my shoulders... I was tired... more than tired... I was lacking sleep even when I left home – I think we all were... but we made the drive and the long trek into the trees... and without saying anything... we just let ourselves fall to the ground... I layed down and looked up and listened to the others breath as it turned into the rhythm of the swaying branches and the flow of the light breeze... I closed my eyes but do not remember doing so... there was a bird not far from us and I could here something that I could not really make out... like a shot gun blast echoeing off in the distance... but maybe not... as for the rest of the guys... they were not moving... we just layed there... there was no rush to set up camp or gather wood... just a tired stillness... that spread throughout the forest... like a contagious virus engulfing the world around us. I have read in a couple of places this theory that nature only acts or reacts because it is being observed... that old “if a tree falls in the forest and there is no-ne there to hear it...” type of thing... could it be true... if that were true then these geeks and their matrix world theory would be right... but that would still not disprove the existence of God. Something strange I noticed as we layed there in the quite and stillness of the forest... and I was not the only one that felt it... a couple of others did as well... there was a moment – that seemed to go on forever, were we had actually felt not only the presence of nature but a union with her... I know I will not be able to explain this in any way for anyone to understand... Was it the stillness of the forest or the stillness of the creatures within... whatever it was we were in synch and the vibrations of nature and these tired wanderes where in harmony... that's the word I was looking for – harmony... it was a sweet thing to experience... as we drifted off to sleep. The sun had set and I woke up with the sound of movement about the camp as some of the guys had come to life and were setting up and cooking and trying to get work done that should have been done upon arriving... I sat up and just looked around... I felt serine and content and satisfied... but I do not know why... but I am trying hard at this very moment to recall those feelings... and that is when I noticed that I was not the only one that had this experience... others were just setting there in curious wonder. I laughed and rose up in no particular hurry to set up my camp... and the others followed my lead... later that evening we spoke of our experience and the ones that did not have it wondered what happened... as did I... we were all equally tired, I imagined, and we all


drifted off to sleep around the same time... but perhaps we were not all in synch either spiritually or mentally... but I tell you, I could feel the flow of, and the rhythm of that syncronicity as it passed over and through us laying there... how could it have missed those others? I went to sleep and dreamt of Deringerville – what would it look like at Christmas... and I woke up early... and whent for a long walk... I touched the trees and bushes and would kneel down every so often to pick up leaves and grab handfulls of soil... stop to look at certain spots and try to imagine what a small cabin would look like there... or a tee-pee... and wonder if some traveling Brave once set up camp there... and if he had learned the secret I was trying to find at this moment... that I knew was now lost forever... did the moment to get closer to my God slip away from me as I slept... I sat with my back against an old tree – and closed my eyes... I breathed in deep and slow... and breathed out like I was blowing out smoke... I did this for a while and tried not to think... when I got here and collapsed... I did not think... I just was... and I tried to get back to that but I could not clear my mind – I kept thinking about that feeling I was trying to capture... but the trick was in order to get to it I had to just not think... get it? I breathed in deep and slow and breathed out like I was blowing out smoke... at some point I had stopped thinking and was drifting off to sleep... the forest around me was still – I was now still... but... the world began to tilt... my body began to rock back and forth... I know this feeling - it is the sawy of the soul before it escapes... that damn astral projection was coming upon me at the wrong damn time... I was afraid of it and irritated by it and I snapped out of the trance I had worked so hard to get myself in... and as soon as I had opened my eyes I was angry with myself – maybe I should have taken that ride and surfed it to see where it takes me... maybe this was an invitation from nature herself... I was more irritated and the stillness of the forest was broken when I screamed in anger mentally... the leaves shook and the birds that sat in silence scattered... what had I done now... a wind came throught my path... this was not a good sign... I got an uneasy feeling in my gut and I felt that something was coming... I ran toward camp... my heart was pounding... the forest had come to life and I try to put the pieces together... as my heart punded in my head... “you idiot!” I told myself... “you were still in synch... up until the point of my mental scream... that is when the bond broke...” I was pissed... but what was chasing me? My right foot hit the ground off balance – did it come down on a rock or some thick stick... I had lost my rhythm and my footing and fell forward... tried to break my fall with my arms but I cut my elbow... I went black for a quick second but shook it off... I rose to my knees and looked at my elbow... it was bleeding... I wiped the blood with my right hand... and looked at it... and thought – well, sometimes nature requires blood... I got to my feet but I was a little light headed... I reached out with my right hand to leaned against a tree... I cought my breath... and straightened myself... I let go of the tree and


saw that I had left a big stain of blood on the trunk... my hand was also bleeding... “there's your blood bitch...” I hear footsteps behind me... I turn around ready to throw a punch... and I wake up in my tent... my heart was racing... my soul... exhausted... I chuckled – the way nervouse people do when the drama is over and they got out of a bad situation thanks to pure dumb luck... I let out a grateful sigh... and close my eyes and think about what just happened... a dream... fucking hell... I hear someone moving around... I don't know what time it is... footsteps... pacing and stopping... pacing and stopping... the voice inside my head tells me to get up! I move slow and move the flap to my tent to the side – it was not zipped... and look out at the dark... I search for the baretta under my bag with my hand... I find it... clutch it... I hear the footsteps... I roll out as quickly and as quietly as I can... on one knee I freeze... the whole group is out of their tents and looking around... confused... I turn to look at the one closest to me... he says... “Jesus was here...” ...what...? He shrugs his shoulders apologetically and says... “it was Jesus... walking around the camp...” another voice says “it was some indian...” And still another offered what he thinks he heard and saw – “It was a girl... she smelled of spices...” And they all turned to look at me... I took a step back... and waved the gun infront of me - “don't try to pin this on me...” I notice I am the only one holding a gun... others have flash lights... Julian kneels down and gets the fire started again and says to me - “Victor, were you dreaming of Veronica?” and everyone was looking at me... “No...” I tell them and the light from the fire illuminates the camp... “that was not what I was dreaming...” and I was about to tell them when one of them says - “I dreamt something was chacing Victor and he was leading it to the camp...” trust me kids... the crazy started as soon as we landed... And that is when another one said - “...I was dreaming of Veronica... I don't know why... but I was...” and I look at him and take a step toward him “what the fuck?”


he just looked at me and shrugs... and says to me “your bleeding...and looks down at my hand holding the gun... I raise the hand and take the gun with my other hand and whipe the blood on my shirt... but it is not bleeding... I look up confused and then turn my left arm over to look at my elbow... and it is bleeding... and I ask... “who was dreaming of Jesus?” Turns out it was the ones that were in synch with nature earlier that had the dreams but... everyone heard the footsteps around the camp... how do we explain this one... we can't... and we won't even try... but one of the guys says it was the spot – that there was magic in that spot... left behind or conjured up before we got there but that it lingered around waiting for fools like us to stumble upon it... “there is your magic Boss...” one of them told me... We sat around the fire for the rest of the night and tried to come up with explanations for our experiences there and ate all night... smoked and drank coffee... and waited for the sun to rise... though we did not get any sleep we decided to pack up and head home... but really we wanted to stay but felt it would be best to get out while we still had our sanity... we were not tired at all on the way home but no one said a word... in our truck... Jimmy, who was driving... hummed and sang softly to us country western songs from his youth... from the seventies... he was enjoying himself... wonder what he dreamed of that night on the forest?


I am still tossing round the idea of setting up Deringer Files with it's own website.. but for now there is just not enough time to really look into it... this journal ebook format will have to do for a while – It is the same as DF but only in this formt that you will have to wait a month for... I started it a bit late and there is not much content but if there is no web blogg soon, then there will be another issue next month... might have more content for you... enjoy and feel free to send your feed back. The Deringer Files Blog will stay up at blogger... you can reach me through there. https://deringerfiles.blogspot.com/ Dash Deringer.

Copyrigth 2017 Victor L. Vogt


Deringer Files November 2017  

A personal journal by Dash Deringer for November 2017 - Volume One