So most of you are probably wondering from whence I got this remarkably odd domain name… And the rest of you probably do not care, but if you fall into the latter category, then you probably are not reading this post to begin with, so who cares about you? 
Regardless, this is only the second domain name I have owned in my life (which is not necessarily saying much, just saying), and each one has its own little rationale behind it.
The first one, of course, was a little different. It was mostly a product of watching Stephen King’s mini-series “Storm of the Century” far too many times growing up, and really liking the way that Linoge’s name could be rarranged to spell “legion”. Yeah, devillish, I know, but what is life without a little spice? That, and it was a screenname I had been using for quite some time before getting the domain (I think I even used it when my blog was hosted on Blogger), so I figured the continuity found there would be appropriate. And, finally, the name was somewhat unique online. If there is one thing I hate, it is some popular name, like “Neo”, or “Frodo”, or somesuch with a thousand different numbers before and after it such that the owners can somehow feel special for having the name. Granted, just like the other hundred-thousand people sharing the same name (but different numerical iterations), but still special. Or something. “Linoge” was a screenname blissfully free of those kinds of stigma.
As for this current domain name of “wallsofthecity.net”… well, what is the best place to start except at the end? A *.com domain extension would not exactly make sense for this website, since it probably is not going to be making me a whole lot of money, nor will it have anything majorly related to commercial activities located on it (besides my pathetic little CafePress store). I, personally, was never remarkably fond of the *.org extensions, and in this particular instance, it would not be logical since this site is likely only to be utilized by me, and really no one else – no organization, no groups, no whatevers. And as for the frelling enormous number of random other domain extensions out there… well… who really cares about those? So that only left one choice.
As for the rest of the domain name… Well, once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, I fancied myself a poet, as probably all teenage males do at one point in time or another (yes, probably even the jocks, I would wager). I actually was somewhat prolific, if also somewhat depressing. Regardless, I happened to write a somewhat random poem in the middle of my sophomore year of college, and promptly filed it in the middle of nowhere of my harddrive, along with all the rest of my works. At the time, I had been attending an organization named the Westminster Christian Fellowship on a relatively regular basis, and it turns out that they were planning on having a poetry readings at one of their upcoming “coffee house” nights. I figured, “What the hell?” and planned on putting mine on the chopping block. However, there was one slight catch – I am not one for public speaking. At all. Ever. Period. Full stop. So, I asked one of my friends to take the bullet for me – seemed logical, right?
And here we are, years down the line. That college friend progressed to being my best friend, then my girlfriend, then my fiancee, and now my wife. Why she still puts up with me I will never know, especially after reading my “poetry”. Regardless, at my recent wedding, my best man referenced that poetry reading as the first time he noticed me pursuing my now wife, whether I was conciously aware of it or not. I do not entirely agree with him, but his comments stuck in my brain. After the death of my previous domain, I was searching for a new name, and his thoughts once again surfaced into the forefront of my brain… After reading through the poem again, I figured it would be a relatively unique name (and it turns out it was, thankfully), and a nice way to start rebuilding my fledgeling internet empire. Good thoughts attached to it and all that. So there you have it.
As for the actual poem… well… blah. If you really want to subject yourself to it, you can read it after the break.
That which brought me here
I could never know.
I simply walked
And walked on.
I held no direction,
No course,
No star by which to guide.
Yet I was brought here,
By my feet,
Or by Something Else,
I know not.
Perhaps I care not.
Perhaps I am simply to tired.
No matter what guided me,
I walked here with my own feet.
But I am here now.
In this Place.
I know not even where this Place is.
When it is.
Even how it is.
Such a thing,
So far as I can even imagine,
Cannot exist.
A beautiful city.
Nay,
A wondrous city.
I sit here upon the
Walls of the City
And watch.
Not a thing moves.
Nothing.
One could almost think
The city was abandoned.
But have the inhabitants
Left?
Or died?
Or… something else?
I know not.
Mayhap the city will tell?
Indecisive.
The wall,
Now obviously useless,
Rests beneath me.
A snake with no teeth.
I shrug and
Jump.
The ground breaks my fall.
It always does.
Save those times it is not there.
But what of those?
I am here.
Now.
And the city knows.
Who would have thought
That it thought?
That it breathed?
For, though it be abandoned
The city lived.
And it watched.
I could not tell if I was being
Welcomed or
Warned.
Though I walked here
I was brought.
Was it the city or perhaps even me?
The city did not care.
Should I?
I walked along the musty streets
And watched
As the city followed me.
The lights brightened with me
And dimmed without.
Machines hummed
And breathed.
I walked on, unconsciously silent
Unsure whether to
Welcome this attention
Or fear it.
For what became of the
Inhabitants? The people?
Did the City kill them
Or Something Else?
I would find out.
For I was brought here
By myself or Something Else
And I will discover why.
I stop in what must have been
The center of the city.
I can see the lights around me
Dimming into the distance.
The walls are there
One to a side
But they have not moved from where I
Left them.
The tallest buildings of the city
Surround me with their presence.
They would almost crowd me if they did not seem to
Lean away, careful of my frailty.
And then they spoke to me.
Not so much words, but a Voice of Eons
Echoing over the times
And places.
I could do naught but stand and listen.
Awestruck.
The travelers stopped atop a ridge
And stared.
The city glinted in the distance,
Sparkling in its infinite, endless glory.
They moved to it,
Into it,
Amazed by the wonders presented to them.
There were no walls.
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