Gehenna

Sick

2011-05-18T14:00:00.002+03:00

...and tired. I'm dying. Slowly rotting away in my unmovable condition. And it will take many years, during which all I'll have is time. Time to take everything too seriously. Sometimes we think what our lives would be like if we had suffered different things. Well, I like to think that conditions of any other nature would have spared me the urge to react internally so profoundly to every little nonsense life throws my way. But we don't really have a choice in these things, do we? Like a bizarre version of the narrow-minded chicken vs. egg dilemma, I wonder which caused which? My mortal condition against my constant contemplation and anxiety about things that might change the course of my lifeline, or things that very well might do so but refrain from such fateful influence. A misfortunate serendipity, I guess.

I have no answers left. And I wake up in the morbid inability to ask questions of my own. Answers... all they do for me is just raise more questions. And I watch in venomous envy as others are satisfied with my advice or never even bother with inquiry. It looks like its so easy for them. So they trouble me with childish, banal insecurities and this only ads fuels to the fire of my revolt.

And on quiet nights I ask for the strength it takes not to lash out on anyone. And maybe a few souls, or just moments, when I can be at peace and at home. Understood, accepted, and supported, the way I try to support others. But no one will be bathed and pampered, as I grow ever more resentful of myself because I'm too quick to notice hardship and a failure at alleviating any.

It's gonna be okay.

New hues on the palette of time

2011-05-01T11:48:00.006+03:00

Like a car chase on the wavy pavement of a nondescript San Francisco boulevard, my mood is seesawing between overemotional, self-centered states of frustration and self-pitying depression, and propaganda-like false bravado shouting "everything's alright" and "time goes on". But in reality, I'm constantly thrown off the track to my goal of bettering myself and transcending to accept the world as it is. If any, my effect on those around me is detrimental.

I wasn't the least bit surprised when a friend said that he can't express himself, that he's afraid of showing his real self and often his response to things not going his way is his becoming destructive. What was surprising was how seamlessly I internalized such a revelation.

The sleeping earth turned on it's side as I turned the page, flipped a coin, and committed to chance something that was born out of secrecy and half-truths. I woke up feeling like the weakest aspects of my self were pulling my strings the hardest. Didn't even take the time to think about what the eyes in front of me were telling me. Maybe I didn't want to know. Textbook flurries of mutually directed selfishness, anger, frustration, shame, panic and depression followed as I sank deeper in the despair of her indiscretion born of immature concern. Even then I could have been misled.

Tragedy upon tragedy, I watch worlds crumble without the ability or will to help anyone. What works for me doesn't work for them, and vice versa. And again, I'm left with my appetite for life unappeased and my curiosity for the living unsatisfied as I watch more people act as if they're zombified. And I'm trapped in human interactions, or the lack thereof, which commence as quantum mechanical events. I cannot observe and describe the things I suppose exist without interfering with them.

Thus I slowly let go of one of the most enduring of hopes: helping others. For without hope, we are truly free.

A man

2011-04-07T17:58:00.001+03:00

"And a man… A man provides. And he does it even when he is not appreciated – or respected… Or even loved. He simply bears up and he does it. Because he’s a man."

Giancarlo Esposito as Gustavo "Gus" Fring - Breaking Bad

Péntek reggel

2011-04-01T06:07:00.003+03:00

Leszúrt vőlegény hörgéseként jajdul fel a táj a régi gyár sípjelzésére. A ragyogó bálterem padlója most halálágy. Köröskörül gyászos ködben szobrozik valamennyi fa, kémény és ablakszem. Ajkára csordultig öklendezi vérét, felvirul a láthatár. A fakuló égbolton hírtelen nagyot villan a csillagok fénye. Fáradt, hosszú utat tett rokonok, kik most borzadtan állnak a péntek reggel küszöbén, és állapítják miként lesz esküvő helyett mégegy temetés. Fényévek pora összesmind hiába.

Eközben te, egy szál lélek, tanú, mégis eltünsz, odébbállsz. Miliméterekben kezded számolni az időt. Sejted, beosztod, mint hiszékeny és tapasztalatlan kamasz a kifürkészhetetlen jövendő éveit. És ugyanakkor, mint egy megtőrt, vén könyvelő, ki végét vesztette számvitelbe menekül kudarcának számvetésétől, gyötröd a hiábavaló egy meg egyet. Már fogalmad sincs mit jelöl, vagy jelképez a sok tag meg tényező, gyök valamint kitevő. Az eredmény csak egy ábránd marad, amint a függvény, ami odavezetett volna, feledésbe vész. Emlékszel, érdekesnek indult. Majd kitartóan, amíg bírtad, húztad, mint az igát. Végül megkönnyebbülten, felmentve fogadod eredménytelen végét. Még egy szemcse egy végtelen abakusz tengelyén.

Így lesed a cigarettád vékony papírburkán tekeredő beosztást, amint az eltünik az emésztő parázs alatt. Begyakorolt könnyüséggel elfricskázod a negyedik emeleti erkélyről, csodálva jubileumi tüzijátéka szikázását, amikor útján egy rügytelen fának ütközik. Hátrafordulsz. Odabent nincs ünnep. Pedig bizony ezeréves lehetsz...

Rape the gods

2011-03-01T09:00:00.005+02:00

Fading flares shaping without a figure of your resemblance;
Rancid rust eating within the burden of your remembrance.
The keeper of perverse tradition -
The architect of your condition,
Never pleased with your rendition,
Will not rest before you're parched of
Your sustaining eminence.

Do not chase the voices to the borders of reality.
Resurrect within the confines of your animality.
Evade the grip of persecution,
Exacting astute retribution,
By the flames of dissolution.
Auspicate the fall of idols -
Drain the heart of sanctity.

Reconciliation

2011-02-02T19:20:00.002+02:00

Hello, my friend. Welcome back, my one recluse. We knew the day will come when we will once again bask in vast emptiness of one another. So don't fret, don't be afraid...

Take this bread of bereavement and bitterness, the fruit of our long labors together. And lift your cup, bless our wine of wicked witchery - a toast if you please.

Let us be seated, it is supper time.

Elegy of moons past

2010-09-18T16:00:00.001+03:00

(Pamphlet VIII)

I had a dream once.
I had a thought -
One that followed me to every battle
I had fought.

Uncertain outcome,
Uneven odds -
Still I raised my voice against the verdict
Of the gods.

Regardless of the sacrifice,
No matter all the blood -
Rising up in victory or buried in the mud,
A dream refused to let me die,
A dream kept shining bright,
Until I closed my eyes and saw you
Drift off in the tears of night...

Random V

2010-08-03T15:37:00.002+03:00

More nightmares of haunting troubles, lurid sexual fantasies, slithering filth and the spontaneous end of life. More unsettling daydreams of what your subconscious is trying to tell you. Spend the hours of the heatwave disparately trying to act like everything's just fine and dandy. Trying to tell yourself you shouldn't be feeling so damn low. You try to find some new tunes and you're suddenly blown away by a little something that sounds like this song:

And as you laze through the days, you become unsure if it's a good thing or a bad one, that you accept the fact that...

These nightmares will continue.

Testament

2010-07-24T06:28:00.004+03:00

1 ¹So it came to pass that in the spring of 2009, year of the Christ, verily I opened the gates to Gehenna. ²And I split the rock and spilled the waters from therein. And the rock shattered and the waters of overflowed. ³And sprung the waters over the earth with elevenfold the fury with which they were once subdued. ⁴And rises a sea that reaches the stars. ⁵And great is the sea that had opened over all that which is. For I saw that it was not good.
2 ¹And borderless are its widths. And bottomless are its depths. ²Yet the surface of the waters is restless. ³For none may sail it with hopes to conquer. And none may walk upon its waters, anointed. ⁴And the height of the water is hungry. ⁵For it covers the fields and the mountains. And none may rise or float above it. ⁶With hopes to dwarf its wrathful ascent, none shall be able to stand.
3 ¹But the depths are not without peace. There are reflections to the sea from underneath. ²Come, hearken onto me; I will reveal the nature of the waters to thee. ³To gaze at its mirrors, thou must immerse thyself in the great sea. ⁴And upon thy descent into the depths, water rise around and above thee. And the sea will spill forth water according to thy measure. ⁵Thus rises water according to thy bulk. And as the water rises, so shall thy countenance wash clean.
4 ¹And that which lies in the abyss shall be clear to thee; and thou shall not be afraid. ²Behold, that which lies in the depths of the water, so lies in the depths of thy soul. ³And thou shall judge and be judged, according to thy kind, in the waters I bring to thee. ⁴For I have seen into the depths of man; I have seen the desolations therein. ⁵And verily I say to thee: there be no light, and that which thy shall behold, is truthful and just. ⁶Lo and bear witness, whereupon thou art eclipsed, what lies within you shines. ⁷Hearken, for the voices of Gehenna cry onto thee, from thy depths.

Game over

2010-07-18T23:32:00.002+03:00

When was the first time
You said just one more round,
With another glass of wine
By some soothing little sound?

And as the cards lay on the table
Can you say you were able
To lift the weight of your smile?

You don't realize,
That time and time again
You rolled up some more snake eyes,
Asking yourself when...

...there's nothing more to raise,
You've nothing left but days,
And it's time to leave the table
Can you say you are able
To lift the weight of your smile?

What's left in your eyes
When all the lights go out?
What more's there to say
When there isn't a single doubt?
You are losing this game.

Is the world still spinning?
Carrying you the way
It used to in the beginning?
Have you anything left to play?

I wonder if you're able
To sit back to the table,
Wearing the same smile?

What's left in your eyes
When all the lights go out?
What more's there to say
When there isn't a single doubt?
You are losing this game.
They don't even know your name.
You're off by a mile
And you bet on that smile.
You are losing this game.

Daybreak

2010-07-04T15:14:00.002+03:00

Visions of a heart in weaning,
Everlasting hidden meaning,
Formulae - all black on white.
Pulsing with the old anew,
Beating for both false and true,
Arrive to nocturnal wonders,
Eschew all the dreams of you.

Fumes commence their silent speeches.
From behind, the sunlight reaches
Landscapes only black and white.
Breeze with fingertips so mild,
Beckoning with nails so wild,
Seek out from a distance unknown,
Snatch away this gazing child.

Take me back to rooms still shaded,
Back to where the fire faded,
Draping us as black in white.
Skin me of my mourning fume,
Render you in sweet perfume,
Before, by light, we're set asunder,
Share with me a touch of doom.

Random IV

2010-07-01T19:28:00.005+03:00

A friend sent me a link in the following form:

"holy shit why http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Afrofuturism"

My immediate reaction was "I'm gonna pretend this never happened." But yeah, that's an obvious exercise in futility, so after a few moments I asked the question:

"I wonder what's the generic plot here? Time-travelers fleeing an apocalyptic, racial World War III visit Tyrone "Shorty" Jackson, they tell him that cyber-sages foretold from looking at the stars that he's the Chosen One and give him a watermelon-powered railgun with which he goes on a quest against the Man who turns into a white dragon, and after defeating him in an epic battle, Shorty makes it out of the hood, ensuring neo-Nazis don't come to power and close KFC, thus avoiding the Helter Skelter?"

Wheel

2010-07-01T14:31:00.003+03:00

Morning:
Dew dispersing,
Dew so thin,
Come and let the day begin.
Come remembrance, dry within,
Come your teardrops on my skin,
Dew dispersing,
Dew so thin.

Noon:
Sun so distant,
Sun so bold,
Take my stories left untold.
Take my breath, then leave me cold,
Take the time I dare not hold,
Sun so distant,
Sun so bold.

Evening:
Winds of madness,
Winds of rage,
Turn the silence of the age.
Turn the voices from the cage,
Turn the image, turn the page,
Winds of madness,
Winds of rage.

Night:
Sand of whispers,
Sand that sings,
Carry time on powder wings.
Carry far what longing brings,
Carry wide what sorrow springs,
Sand of whispers,
Sand that sings.

Blank inspiration I

2010-06-15T15:01:00.007+03:00

You know your well is going dry again when you look for the words within yourself but you realize someone else has already drawn and drunk them before you and you're left in the echo of their greatness. So here are the words I only dream that I might have written myself if someone else hadn't sung them long before this day:

"In the tears that followed
The years that swallowed
The innocence of my love
I crave for you"

:Of The Wand & The Moon: - I Crave For You

That one turns my blood to ice. And in paradox, here's one that boils with my morale:

"I seem to be running into a dead end
And I feel like throwing the race
As my thoughts twist and turn
Black becomes white, night becomes day
I'm floating upon sordid seas
I don't have much goal
As long as I will sink in the crowd
I'll feel the eyes
I'll sense demands
But I keep my rope untied,
I keep my rope untied"

House Of Usher - Rather Black

They're essentially evoke the same in me, hence the paradox.

Carry over

2010-06-08T05:00:00.001+03:00

A shuffle in the graveyard murk,
No uninvited eyes dare lurk,
As we proceed in rites so dim,
Sevenfold in spells so grim.

Our stepping creeps on hallowed ground.
Whispers wash into a sound
Forlorn into the night's unrest,
Echoed by the stone possessed.

But on the walls that we caress,
We leave no warmth, no mark, no stress.
For we are shadows, old and cold,
Ours are stories left untold.

We envy those whose names are cut
In marble when their eyes were shut.
For we were nameless in our days,
Now we're shameless in our ways.

We seek out the restless dead,
Lift them from their bitter bed,
Raise them up from six-foot loam -
Finally, they're going home.

Our domain, an eldritch place,
Lies ahead, in voids embrace.
And as we open up the gate,
Come the words of truthful fate:

"And lo, my children: we are one,
Deep beneath the seventh sun,
From far beyond the seventh seal,
Freed from under heaven's heel."

Soldiers of misfortune

2010-06-07T01:19:00.005+03:00

We heard a sudden call to arms,
And left our valleys and our farms.
On we marched in summer rain,
Through where nobody asked our name.

"Where you from?" - some dare to ask -
From where we had to wear a mask...
"Where you headed?" - some go on -
We'll know it by the light of dawn.

Our path's the night, it always rains.
Our feet are wet but free from chains.

Our home is where we're welcome not.
Since, we forgave, but not forgot.
Our destination's still unknown,
But that land we'll call our own.

And as we march in summer rain,
We feel no guilt, regret or pain.

Gun in hand until we fall,
With a helm' a size too small,
And our boots a size too large,
Up the last of hills we'll charge.

Signals

2010-06-04T23:47:00.002+03:00

(Pamphlet VII)

What's that, coming through the twilight air?
The dew of a phantasm, the reek of a prayer?
Small creatures lift their heads and draw
A whiff of a dream so old yet so raw.
Churning through your withered lips,
Giving wind to spiders' ships,
Blacker than your heart of coal,
Rise the smokelings of my soul.

Sharp girl

2010-05-06T18:53:00.006+03:00

(Pamphlet VI)

Used to that cut,
Used to the blood,
It wasn't too bad for a time.
Grinding herself,
Grinding them down,
This whole world just ain't worth a dime.

Then, much to her fright,
One day it did stop.
The cut has choked up
The very last drop.

So what does she do,
When it's still not enough?
"Time for another cut"
Is precisely what she thought.

The house that the devil watches

2010-05-05T01:00:00.003+03:00

Brewing darkness,
The whispering cold -
Endless mystery,
A woe never told:

Lucifer's wings,
Spread wide 'cross the sky,
Summon the night, blind
The all-seeing eye!

Star in the sky,
Unearthly sigil,
Shroud everlasting
Under His vigil.

Towering here,
A monument tall,
Hailing the nihil
That beckons us all.

The house that the devil watches -
Alit by a false breath of life,
A beacon that shines
On the edge of this world,
A call...

Drying in death,
A land dressed in black -
Lost is the way now,
There's no turning back!

Covered in thorns,
A desolate way:
Realm of who wander
Forever astray.

Knock on the door -
The end of the road.
Weary withdraw to
An eerie abode...

Enter my child,
Step in to this place -
Haven for all who
Have fallen from grace.

The house that the devil watches -
Adorned by the ashes of time
The joy of His pleasures,
A bidding for more,
A call...

Watching so still,
Revealing His mark,
Goat-headed figures
Stretch out from the dark.

Dripping so sweet,
Their wine from your lips;
Poison of crimson
Your sanity rips.

Glowing so dim,
The candles alight
Deep in the den of
Forbidden delight.

Resting so cold,
You're finally home.
Never to wake up,
No longer to roam...

The house that the devil watches -
A bed for the bitter to share
A lullaby sung
For the hollow within
A call...
To the other side.

The moondial, part I

2010-05-04T23:59:00.003+03:00

He rests his head on the pillow, and takes a slow, deep breath of relief as his face sinks into this soft cushion made of unknown materials. He honestly can’t tell if it’s feathers, cotton, or some kind of synthetic fills bearing the weight of his skull, but nonetheless, he’s glad to have his head against something he can touch and feel. He’s had his head up in the clouds for a long time. It feels good to come back to Earth once in a while. Like when a sailor’s losing sight of land or when a soldier, set for battle, takes a last look at home, he turns his head back towards the sky and meets eyes with the Final Frontier’s most spectacular wanderer. He starts to feel tension rising, but dares not blink. Slight spasms in his legs, dizziness in his head, his sight is torn and weary. He had a rough day. His eyeballs feel shrunken and dried like a couple of raisins. But he dares not blink. He’s hypnotized as Luna, in all her nudity, swims on a sea of glass, towards the edge of the balcony door windowpane, trying to get out of sight, as if embarrassed by the sudden attention of this would-be voyeur. He just lies there, as still as death, while a thirteen minute track quietly loops on the stereo. He wonders “how many times will the song play through before the moon hides away?” It's a sound so sweet. "Is there anyone worthy of such delightful moment?" And he watches, and he listens.

The full moon's light begins to wane, slowly occluded by the architecture of the fourth floor bedroom, which in times such as these, is privileged with the unofficial title of “opera house balcony”. His vision is still a bit blurred as he rests motionless, thinking about how the light will have passed in a few short minutes. He takes a moment to consider the irony that, in order to feel the World truly move, one must stay absolutely still, and watch as the sky rolls by. The last rays of moonlight begin to flicker on the edge of the door frame, like candlelight burning into the wax. It instantly feels a bit colder. He breathes in the chilly air of the night as the shadow covers his face. Its boundary turns over his eyes like the hand of a giant sundial, or in this case, a “moondial”. He turns his head to a side, just in time to hear his heartbeat pounding on the pillow, like a clock striking at a certain hour. Thump... thump... thump... thump. It’s the beginning of his witching hour. He remembers that silly superstitious anecdote about looking at the time at sharp hours and that meaning someone out there is thinking about you, missing you, loving you. Today he looked at the time at 11 o’clock in the morning, sharp, then 2, 3, 7, 9 and 2 after midnight. “Could it all be just superstition?” -he ponders. His ambitious introspect into the metaphysical is abruptly terminated by the somewhat annoying sound of strings in the song as his thoughts slip back to his chores in the real world. He doesn’t want to face them, just wanting to hide his head and forget about everything. But does he have a choice? He turns his eyes towards the ceiling and lets out the first in a long line of sighs...

Hell

2010-05-01T13:40:00.000+03:00

...is very near to me. I can smell the brimstone. I can hear my screams from a time yet to come. Complete damnation is revealed to me.

Looking back on my journey, I remember a voice speaking to me every day. "Why are you doing this? What makes you think you can succeed? When will you do the things that make life better for everyone else? Where do you think this will lead?" To which I ever so defiantly replied "do I need a reason?"

His realm I shall enter a most glorious soul...

Tristessa

2010-03-26T19:51:00.002+02:00

Under all her fancy clothes,
There's an ugly no one knows.
Underneath her perfect skin,
She's black and blue with every sin.
Under that endearing smile,
There's a tongue soaked up in bile.
And under all appearances,
She's just more appearances.

She puts on her charcoal shade -
Thus begins the masquerade.
She puts on her precious rings
And all the other little things...
She puts on her favorite shoes
That match her heart dressed up in blues
And she puts on her fragrance sweet,
Now the picture is complete.

Tonight she'll be my star again,
Blow her kisses through my pen.

We'll lie awake in bed
In a place of our own,
Held from the unknown,
Yet wishing we were dead.

Reality

2010-03-21T03:11:00.003+02:00

' been trying to get back into poetry lately, will post if any of my efforts prove fruitful. In other news, I've been participating in over a dozen graphical design contests all week but I guess everything I did really falls short of excellence. It's a very refreshing slap in the face when you realize that you're just mediocre. I've always known this, I don't know why people ever told me I was more. I always get my hopes up and then I just fall on my ass. But if I don't give any credit to the foolish souls who hold me in high regard, I'm a jerk. Wonderfully fair.

I feel like I'm fucking everything up lately. I'm unable to do certain things that shouldn't be a problem. I'm left with two hopes. On one hand I hope everything will be alright and that it's all just in my disturbed little head, and on the other hand, I hope that if I'm really doomed, I'll go so crazy that I won't even realize what a mess I've become and just spend the rest of my days comfortably numb.

But in reality, I'm standing with a foot on either side of a widening rift and if it keeps gaping, I'll just fall into a deep dark place where I'll be fully aware of all that I've wronged and I'll be condemned to obsessively replay it all in my mind until the pain of shame, guilt and regret leaves me lifeless. That's how you know Hell, when you get there.

Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.
Psalms 27:10

Clueless

2010-02-01T17:39:00.003+02:00

I have no freaking idea when I'm gonna finish all the poems I've written half way through. I also had some ideas for prose and drama... They're not gonna write themselves.

More unsuccessful attempts at literature coming soon (I hope).

Bits and pieces

2010-01-23T13:08:00.001+02:00

You wake up as if you've just spent the past year in a coma. Your muscles are atrophied and you can't move. You're just a poor old son of a bitch who found himself still on Earth. You feel like a train wreck, and for all you know, that's just what happened to you. At least that's what you wish and you'd expect some results, some catharsis - you wish you were in Purgatory... or burning in Hell, why not? But then your mind starts working. It's not as sharp as usual, but you feel it, yeah, it's definitely your brain waking up (small lag). The first few rays of sunlight that find their way into your room sort of jump-start your whole consciousness. Fuck.

You start feeling pain. Every square inch of your upper body hurts like hell from a tough exercise you pulled the day before. Hmm... if you managed to remember that, the rest of the shit that happened the week before is sure to follow. Oh shit, here it comes! You realize there's nobody on the bed between you and the wall. Not like you'd take just anybody home. So the first thing your dumb face can express is contempt with yourself - in the mouth, anger at the world - with your eyes, disbelief in that there's anything you can do about it that you're not already doing - that in the form of some twitching around the nose and then an overall expression of deep sorrow sort of massages your whole visage into a numb mush - you didn't sleep through time and the world didn't fast-forward into a future where fate is more kind to you. There's nobody on the bed between you and the wall. As you try to turn over to face the room, your chest feels like it's being crushed and you can barely feel your arms. And that's the least of your problems.

Your head hurts. Ah fuck, you're hung over! All you wanted to do is get out and drink a couple of beers. A couple meaning two, for fuck's sake! Why the hell was everyone so nice to you last night? Can they tell just how fucked up you feel? Maybe you've begun to wear the face of someone who can always use a beer. Now all you can think about is what a fool you probably made of yourself at the pub the other night and all you did is set your blood sugar level through the roof. You need some water. You need to rehydrate your brain so it sticks to the inside of your skull and doesn't keep pulling away from it because that fucking hurts. God damn it! You feel the stench of cigarette smoke rise to your nose from your chest as it catches draft on your way to the bathroom. You slept in your clothes. Anybody with a decent grasp on English knows what that means.

You hardly look at yourself in the mirror. Is it the fact that the water tap is at stomach level and you have to lean down towards it? Or is it all the shame you feel that's keeping your from standing straight with your head up? You almost take a moment to give a fuck. As the water runs down your throat, more bits and pieces of your yesterdays start putting themselves together in your head. You remember you applied for a couple of jobs and all you got at the end of the week is just more stalling and the silent treatment. You remember someone inviting you to their eighteenth birthday, which is today. You remember you also have a rehearsal in an hour or so. You try to forget about all the bad shit you'd been through this week and just try to limit your thought to simple routine - lift the seats, take a piss, put the seats back on, flush. You're not sure in which order you're supposed to do the last two. It works and you're comfortably numb for a few minutes but then it's back to your room.

You take a blood sugar test. 92. What the fuck? You almost got pissed last night from all the beer people so kindly bought you and your blood sugar is normal?! You begin to realize you're not as fucked up as you wish you were. You're not sure if that fucks you up even more or just puts you on the shitty side of normal. After all, you're glad you're alright and start thinking about crazy things. You think about not giving up. You think about hope. You think about happiness. You think about love. There you go again, telling yourself that you have to fight through all the pain this life gives you. There's a jar of cookies at the end.

You start having these fucking mood-swings again. You start losing your confidence and you think about what a failure you are. It bugs you that you might have dozed off in the pub. You remember banging your head to shitty music because it helps you forget. Not wanting to remember still not having a job. Not wanting to remember all the people you've talked to in the pub. Not wanting to remember what you've talked about - music, your band and concerts, politics, parties. Do you really give a shit? Not wanting to remember being lonely all day. Not wanting to remember turning down an older slut in the most undignified way possible, because that wouldn't make sense with the sentence before this one. Not wanting to remember not being able to tell that cougar that you're a committed man and that kind of stuff is not what you're looking for. Not wanting to remember being upset to the point of shaking because you were too surprised at an older woman making a pass at you and you not really finding the words that would describe commitment to Another and your disgust at her fugly persona. Not wanting to remember turning out to be a limp dick bastard who doesn't practice what people think he preaches. Not wanting to remember sitting down next to an empty bottle and looking at Her picture in your wallet. Not wanting to remember rubbing your fingers on Her cheeks on the picture of the two of you. Not wanting to remember how it hurts sometimes. Not wanting to remember missing Her. Not wanting to remember wondering if that's Her in a picture of Her ex. Not wanting to remember getting the silent treatment for days on end and not having a clue about what's going on. You banged your head, not wanting to die out here.

Silent treatment. You remember that's how you describe Her behavior towards you lately. Communication breakdown as usual but this time you got very worried. Not only did She seemingly avoid starting to talk to you, She didn't answer your last two calls. She didn't even bother to tell you She's gonna be unavailable these days. You're not mad at Her. You love Her more than life itself and it's just fucked up the way things are. You get lost within the chaos of loud music, flashing lights and stupid people. Sweet chaos... Just for a second, you want to forget about the pain. You know you were gonna wake up the next day and you'll be hanging in there still. You know that around noontime the next day, all the bits and pieces are gonna be glued up and put together again. You know that for a moment you'll wonder "just how much more of this heartbreak can you take?" You know the answer is always gonna be "just a little more". You know you don't give up on yourself. You know you won't give up on Her.

Writer's block

2009-12-20T11:37:00.004+02:00

Yeah, I have it. Big time.
She's right.

These days, part III

2009-11-02T19:38:00.004+02:00

My father fell on his face on the owner's lawn as we tried to get out. He lost his glasses in the grass so we had to look for them. We couldn't leave until we found them. When we did, I put them in my jacket pocket. We got out on the street and started making our way through the scarcely lit village. It was passed the bend when my old man collapsed. Fuck! I pulled him up and we went on along the dirt road. A few yards further he fell down again. He let go of me and I obviously couldn't keep him standing with one arm. That's when I heard him hit his head on the ground. That's when I got scared. I tried pulling him up, but he fell down again. I started yelling at him. Started telling him to get up. He couldn't even say anything.

It's funny how we were out in an open street, but everything just felt so small. It was just him, me and the ground. Every time he banged his head on the ground, things got darker. Every time I heard the sound of his bald scalp against the rocky, dirty road, I got angrier, I got more scared. By this time we were both covered in mud and blood was smeared on our jackets. His head was bleeding. He was passing out. I turned around for a second to see if we dropped anything. Well, that wasn't of much use, as it was almost pitch black, and I was a little drunk. I turned back to pick him up and I saw him lying in a ditch on the side of the road, curled up in a fetal position. I turned him over and asked him what was he doing.
-Leave me alone. I wanna sleep.
-The hell you will!
I started pulling him off the ground but it was almost like he didn't want to get up. I started slapping him on the face and punching him in the stomach to wake him up a bit. He didn't want to get up. He was delusional. I asked him who I was. He didn't know. He started guessing names - names of old time friends he had probably known for more years than I've had to live.
-No, God damn it, I'm your son! Now get up and let's go home.
He mumbled something I couldn't make out so I kicked him a couple of times. -Alright! - he said. That last kick was enough. Don't make me hit back!
-Then let's fucking go, you sack of shit. I can't carry you.
-Alright!
-Alright?
-Alright.
-Are we going?
-Yeah.
-Alright.
We took a few steps forward, a step to the left, a couple of steps to the right, and repeated the sequence. Both of us were showered in blood. He was bleeding from the concussions to his head. He was bleeding out of his ear. On to his shoulder, on to me. Then he tripped and I dropped him.
-Fuck! You're gonna crack your skull before I ever get you home on my own. Come on old man, on your feet and let's get moving.
-What are you guys doing? - I heard the voice of a couple of local gents.
-This is my father. He's drunk. Help him get home.
-Who is your father? Who are you?
-This is my father, Hadnagy Nandor. I'm his son, Laszlo. Let's get him back to the asylum!
-Holy shit! It's Nandi! Kid, go to the administrator's house. Tell him we need to get him up there and clean him up.
-Can you guys bring him?
-Don't worry, go!

So I ran to the administrator's house and knocked on the door. I told him who I was, what the problem was. He said he'll get on it. I ran back to my dad and found him being carried up the hill to the institution. As I got close, one of the people there pushed me away and told me to fuck off.
-What the fuck is the matter with you? That's my father over there.
-I don't care. Back off.
-Are you fucking retarded? Step aside.
I almost got my ass kicked if it wasn't for a few fellows who I've met earlier and had recognized me. We got my old man up to the infirmary and a nurse washed him up. I turned to wash my hand when I saw both my arms covered in dirt and blood. I though "Jesus fucking Christ, I'm a mess!" So I cleaned my hands and we took my dad to his room. That's when it turned out my dad never got permission to have a visitor stay there with him. I had to go. I argued as much as I could with them but when they threatened to call the police, I had to bail.

I could still catch the 9:30 trip back to my town. With still some money left, I decided to crash this Halloween party in VHR. The plan was to have a couple of drinks and cool down. There was no need for a costume, I was covered in blood! It was a weird party down there. But I honestly couldn't give a fuck after all the shit I'd been through all day. At one point, after I got really drunk. This Frankenstein's bride-looking bitch bumped into me and we had a few ugly change of words after which she must have hit me or something. I got mad and walked towards her, demanding an apology. Some of her friends tried to flank me and after I pushed one of the away with one arm, and tried to fend against blows and prodding with the other, the DJ jumped up and pulled me aside, asking me to behave. Fuck you guys, it wasn't my fault, for all I know. I would've fucked somebody up if they didn't leave me alone.

The next day I called my dad. He was in a lot of pain. He figures he hit his head on the ground one too many times and he bled inside his head. The blood then exited through his ear instead of building up in his brain. Good news, I guess. Then he told me he broke a few ribs. Oops, one too many kicks, I guess. He said he'll be out of the woods if he makes it past Sunday. I asked him to tell the staff I'm sorry if I got out of line. I told him to get well. And I asked him about the money: apparently I had a lot of bills on me, all smeared in blood. The locals picked those up from the ground when they carried him back to the home and they gave the money to me.
-Keep it, he said.
-Thanks.

There's something I need a little cash for. It's been waiting for months and everything seemed to have been "more important" that it. I'll spend it on what's most important to me, now that my father's blood is on it.

These days, part II

2009-11-01T14:40:00.004+02:00

I had known right from the start that visiting my father meant getting drunk and having a good time with my old man. That's why neither of us held their liquor. After finishing what we had to drink in his room, we went out to the village. We snuck out the gate in the back of the institution and made our way down the hill on which the whole facility was rested. The locals were still staring at us. I thought that's usually the case in a village or small town. Everybody knows everybody, so they always take a good look at people they haven't seen before. But then I noticed my father's behavior deteriorating somewhat. Maybe that's what people are looking at. The only explanation I could come up with at the time was that he probably had a few drinks before I arrived.

We got to this fancy little pension down the road from the nuthouse and went straight to the bar. After a beer or two, we decided to have dinner there. While we were waiting for our food, my dad was going on and on about how the government had skimped out on his welfare checks for almost two years. I wasn't in the mood for the same old rhetoric I've heard a million times for the last few months, so I asked him to skip to the point. The point was that he had busted enough balls to get his request approved for the money the state owed him. A modest four-figure sum in Romanian currency, the money was more than enough to put a smile on the face of a sick old man who had food, shelter and medication all covered. Ah, so part of the reason for my being there is revealed. He got hold of some money, paid off his debts and wanted to have a good time with close family. Makes perfect sense, but knowing my dad, that's not reason enough for such hasty hospitality.

Meanwhile, our meal, some mititei and fries, arrived at the table. Being Hungarian, we didn't talk much while stuffing our faces, but you gotta know me, you gotta know my dad. I finished my plate quickly but I can't say the the same for my father. You see, he doesn't have any teeth. I can't remember how he lost them. They were either all knocked out or removed due to health hazards they might have posed if they were rotting. I really can't tell. He got that way around the time when we didn't talk much, after my parents' divorce. So I'm sitting there, drinking my beer, and my dad's just looking at half a plate of fries - the harder, drier pieces. I asked him if I can have them; yeah, I could.

During the next couple of drinks, I raised the question that was in my mind all day:
-Old man, I'm no simple-minded bastard. You didn't ask me to come visit you so we can have lunch and get silly. What happened? What's the matter?
-You're right - he said. Now listen son. I've lived a long life, full of dangers and wild things and stupid shit. I've got a long line of ex-wives and whores who either want me dead or wish I was back. I've lost a lot of friends. The ones I still have, God bless! I have three kids who I barely talk to. Your half-sister's married, doing alright. She still hasn't made me a grandfather yet, but that's okay...
-Yeah, you've told me.
-...they don't need me around. Your half-brother turned out to be a dumb fuck. He's not too bright, not too strong, and they're not exactly gonna make it anywhere if her mother keeps fucking it up for the both of them. And then there's your sister. She's the worst disappointment ever. She's a rotten slut who's never been too far from dumb pricks. Now she's a thousand miles away. Forget about her.
-I know. It's a damn shame.
-But you're my forth kid. I can always count on you. I was very uneasy all week until I heard you on the phone, saying you were on your way here.
-What's going on?
-Three weeks ago I was walking down the steps from the old cafeteria to my room when everything started going black. My head started ringing and I felt like the world started spinning around. I thought that was it! My time had come. I fell on all-fours and crawled towards the dorms. It was dark. it was cold. There weren't many people outside. I was so frightened I couldn't even yell for help. Then one of the guys came up to me and asked me if there was something wrong. All I could do is nod my head. At that point all I saw was a few spinning specs of light.
-Damn.
-It only lasted a few minutes. Later the doctors weren't able to figure anything out. But I think I know what the problem was...
-I think it's something with your brain (and by then I had realized that it's likely that these are some of the last beers I'm gonna drink with my old man).
-Probably, yeah (his answer didn't agree so much to our so-called diagnosis, as to what I've written in the parentheses above).

It was almost instantly that we got passed the fear and the sorrow. And any bitterness that would've crept up from our stomach was drowned in plentiful brew and various spirits. We somehow ended up at a household where it turned out the man of the house used to know my father a long time ago. We sat there and got drunk until it started getting cold outside. It was time to take my father home. I looked around to see if we didn't forget anything and then I tried to help my dad up. That's when I realized he was too drunk to walk. Things were a little blurry for me too but I vaguely remembered him telling me that except for last night, he hasn't had anything to drink in five months. Shit, this is gonna be rough, I thought...

These days, part I

2009-11-01T10:37:00.004+02:00

I'm gonna write this down here because there's really no other place to put such a story. This is the tale of the weirdest day of my life. What's so weird about it? The fact that I had a lot of bad things happen to me and I'm left with not even so much as a moral to all of it. No new knowledge can be extracted from such an experience. No problems solved, no wisdom gained, no insights benefited to the intricacies of human life. Although I took part in all this, I really felt like only a spectator to the horrors unfolding in front of our eyes.

It all started this Thursday evening. My friend Tom, and I went out in town for a couple of drinks. We were celebrating his spending time home, since he goes to college in a different town and he got really homesick. We went down to my favorite pub, VHR, but there was an entrance fee since a local band was playing live there at the time. The fee for the two of us was about the same as all the money we had so we decided to go to another place, Tranzit, and be back after the show's over. That's when I got a text message from my father, asking me how I was. After I replied, he called me and we started talking on my way back to VHR. He asked me to go visit him on this weekend and, without hesitating, I said yes.

Now I guess a little background story is in order here. My parents divorced when I was about four years old. The reason was my father's drinking habits, his constant cheating on my mother, and his abuse of virtually everyone's good will. After spending a few years on the bottom of the bottle, constantly moving from one shit-hole to the other, he decided to get clean. The only thing my dad ever feared was death. That's partly the reason why he asked me to visit him, but that was also the reason behind him apparently taking medication that would've left him dead in a few hours should he touch alcohol. He's off those now, but meanwhile he ended up in a madhouse, because the booze had wasted his mind and that was probably the only place in the world that would take him in.

Apart from hanging out with Tom, I had no plans for the weekend, but as soon as I accepted my dad's invitation, other people started asking me if I'd do this or that with them on Saturday. I told them "no can do, my dad needs to see me." I figured he was in trouble, it's not like him to call me over there like that. So, Friday rolls by with me having to tell more people that I'm not available for the weekend. No problem, I passed down a couple of invitations to go drinking, an invitation to another town, and I was asked if I'll be at the Halloween party in VHR on Saturday. I thought "fuck it, I gotta go see my dad."

Saturday morning I took a one hour trip out to the village where my dad lives. Since it was All Saint's Day, the micro-bus was full of people going to the countryside. Just my luck. We were cramped inside the vehicle like sardines in a can. When I got to my stop, my dad was waiting for me at the side of the road. It was a one mile walk to the asylum during which we each had two beers at two different locations. Yeah, that's the countryside for you! My dad kept going on and on about the life in the village until we passed the gates to the nuthouse. Then he gave me the grand tour of the institution.

First up was his old quarters, in the main building. I saw a lot of different people there. From mildly disturbed to cretins and completely retarded, all kinds of mentally ill folks turned up on the halls to see a new face. They wanted to get to know me but my dad quickly dispersed them with a few slaps to the hands and the face. He introduced me to his old roommate, a guy who spent eight and a half years in prison for various offenses. He showed me a tattoo on his arm and said that the guy who did it was only fourteen at the time. He told me the guy's name, Eperke, which translates to little strawberry, obviously a street-name. I clearly remember that name from when a friend of mine had his garage looted by some punks from our neighborhood. Small world, I thought. My dad and I went on to one of the rooms in the geriatric ward. The walls were padded with white ceramic tiling. The room was lit with several neon lights. The bright colors of gray hair, cement, tiling and whitewash seemed to contrast very sharply against the odors of thirty-or-so mentally ill old men.

As we passed through the buildings, my dad introduced me to a lot of staff, and patients who were more on the normal side. They all seemed delighted to get to know the young man my father told them about. It was a cheerful little trip down to the back of the facility, where my dad's current quarters are. I met a deaf-mute gentle giant. I was told he had tremendous power. He can carry two sacks when just one is heavy even for two men. But if you hit him, he cries. His parents, if he had any, must have really fucked him up. One of the crazy people tried to open my backpack when I wasn't looking, so I slapped him on the hand. He covered his face and started yelling. What a sight that was!

We finally made it to my dad's quarters, a cozy little room that resembled a student dorm more than anything else. There was a desk with a lot of shit on it, some closets and stuff, a table and a couple of stools, a couple of beds, a bunch of posters with naked women on the walls and a single window, facing the open landscape. We sat down to eat and have a beer. That was when I felt I had truly arrived...

Phalanx

2009-09-21T05:10:00.001+03:00

(Pamphlet V)

Here is where he thrusts
His mighty flaming tongue
Across a hollow bone

Here is where he pulls
Her undemanding mask
To pools of steaming gore

Here is where he kills
My vision of the world
Supplanting it with yours

Oblivion

2009-08-26T20:25:00.002+03:00

Behold the wings I spread and how they cover up the stars,
Unfolding them I fill the bleak horizons up with scars
Through which I bleed to other worlds where I'm to lay my seed;
I take to flight again tonight to satisfy a need...

The shadows on the cemetery walls bear witness mute:
Anointed by the harvest moon your body is the fruit.
I come to pull it from the Tree of Life from which it hangs,
And fill your soul with dreadful venom dripping from my fangs.

No more to see the light of day, you're trapped in slumber deep,
I rise as smoke from burning worlds to take you in your sleep...
And as I drag you down beyond the silence of the grave,
Nobody hears your cries or comes to try your soul to save!

As demons feast upon your body's tainted carrion,
You suffer without end inside the dark Oblivion
Where, always falling deeper down, your soul's forever lost -
You played with fire all your life and now you pay the cost!

Prophecy

2009-08-22T14:11:00.003+03:00

Deeds of reason will become as dust
As passions and love that flow with blood,
Will stand still and dry.

Neither thought nor feeling emanates
As the Word utters itself.
The spoken spell reveals its essence
In a self sustaining singularity,
Through which a body can take shape
Into a being perfect in every aspect of its
Non-existence

Can you hear it?
Can you feel it reaching out?
Can you see it breaching
The barrier of the stars?
Like an ancient wandering comet,
It soars across the heavens,
Tearing them asunder,
Bringing them to the ground at last...

As above so below!

When the light of the suns extinguish,
It will relinquish its tail from its mouth.
Breaking the torment of the cycle of life,
It will spread its wings again,
In the endless ways of chaos.

When every orifice sings overflowed
With every dying fluid,
Drowning every aspect of fatherly creation
In blood and semen vomit of never grateful whore,
The deeds of prophecy will become as gold;
As passions and love that dried with blood
Will solve and be swallowed by the Sea.

The spoken spell reveals its essence,
Be the first to hear the last...

Nailed to misery

2009-08-20T04:18:00.003+03:00

...just anywhere, and everywhere,
In everybody's bed,
The flower, sprung by warmth in spring
Is withered now, and dead.

And like the copper wire runs
Along its shriveled stalk,
Our hearts are pierced by iron nails
With every step we walk.

The hands do not embrace, they keep
A death grip on the ears,
Confining to the darkness all
Of life's forgotten tears

Despair and anger render all
Disheartened, blind and numb.
The breathing slowly wanes from where
No words will ever come.

The silence blazes louder yet
With every passing day;
The flower, sprung by love in spring
By fall will rot away...

And like the copper wire cuts
Along its drying stem,
The dream is sweet as we our lives
To misery condemn.

Random III

2009-07-29T01:52:00.006+03:00

Did anyone ever wonder why people think a pet will make them feel less lonely? I mean when some people have social issues they find hard to sort out, they might buy a dog or some other animal with which to share affection. But as I walked by a woman with a dog today, I noticed the dog much better than the person holding it. That's when the sense of sheer irony hit me. You buy a mutt to make you feel needed and to have someone depend on you and to share attention with but in fact it makes you seem even less significant to others. Ha ha.

Wonderful world

2009-07-18T18:45:00.008+03:00

As a person who's fascinated with conspiracy, evil, darkness and the macabre, I tend to pay more attention to little details in life. I wonder about things few people do, I believe. A lot of people don't like to question the nature of things. A lot of people want to believe. They don't want to feel frightened. I know we all wanna feel safe in our lives but it's disgusting when we sacrifice truth for sensitivity. Like I said, I try to pay attention to the strings that are pulled to control us and I always condemn distractions that promise will make us content.

I was surfing the Internet one day and came across a Wikipedia article about a gay musical (sounds kind of pleonasmic, I know). To my horror I saw it attracted dozens of awards at different festivals. These were mostly LGBT film festivals but there were some general film festivals that held the picture in high regard. I'm even disgusted by the thought that there are exclusively LGBT cultural events in the world. Why? What's the big fucking deal if you're different that way than others? To me this whole things seems like an orchestrated distraction from big problems in society. So instead of information about politics, the economy and whatnot, we're presented with a constant gayfest to keep us shocked and mildly entertained. Reality: AIDS doesn't kill only "fags dead", LGBTs don't destabilize a region, ruin the economy or kill large numbers of people.

Here's the plot summary of the movie, which by the way is called Were the World Mine (dear Lord!). A little faggot, who gets a lot of shit for being the only fag in his hometown, turns everyone gay with some magical love-pansy from Shakespeare's play A Midsummer Night's Dream. He does so in order to make them experience what he does every day. After he fucks the whole town up and nobody's happy because of their "heart-wrenching" situation, the original queer dude feels he's not so queer anymore and he wants to stay different, so he turns everyone back. Typical gay rhetoric if you ask me. And I'm only saying gay because lesbian, bi and transsexual people seem to feel a lesser urge to conquer the world under the rainbow flag.

What truly upsets me is the fact that such disgustingly self-righteous and alienating vanity receives high praise from so-called critics while a masterpiece such as Antichrist gets panned in Cannes for it's apparent misogyny. Again, another distraction and distortion of reality. The truth is everybody hates everybody. The more we try to force peace, love and understanding on society, the more fucked up it gets. When women hate women, it's jealousy. When women hate men, it's because of disappointment. When men hate other men, it's competition. When men hate women, it's misogyny. Bad misogyny! Bad! Like we have nothing to hate women for. Why is all this so? Just another distraction to keep us sleeping.

At the film's premiere "at least four people fainted during the preview due to the film's explicit violence". Give me a fucking break! I wonder, are these the same people who praised The Passion of the Christ for its awesome depiction of the bastard Nazarene's final moments?

Fucking hypocrites! Fucking sheep! It is they who are asleep, not the people counting them. The next time some wondrous piece of entertainment comes your way, I hope you give it a chance to think about it's true relevance to anything, and not its fabulous flashing lights drowning any bit of common sense and good taste.

Disclaimer: I don't use the word "fag" because I'm not a native English speaker and I might be confused about it's meaning and usage. I use it because I'm a homophobe. I'm against LGBT pride because it's meaningless to me. I seriously don't give a flying fuck about any of that and I'm dismayed at the fact that the media is full of it, instead of giving us more valuable information.

Random II

2009-07-15T01:37:00.004+03:00

The same friend form another random post had an interesting observation once. I got reminded about it while talking to random people on the Internet tonight:

"Four out of five people enjoy gang rape."

If you think about it, you'll realize it's true.

Nephilim

2009-07-14T05:00:00.002+03:00

I stroke my face with gentle, loving care.
My tender fingers shiver to the view
Of all the beauty I have come to bear
As madness takes a hold of me anew.
Divine appearance of a being extinct,
Accursed blessing cast from high above,
In living flesh an angel's portrait inked,
I trap their helpless hearts in fatal love.
Yet I become afflicted by their grime -
My eyes become the earth they tread upon
And every breath of air another crime
Atoned by loss to time and space forgone
In rifts, between the god and men of mud,
Agape between the dream, the flesh, the blood.

No, really

2009-07-13T23:34:00.004+03:00

I don't even know what I wanted to put down just a second ago. No, really. Don't read this. Who am I talking to? Nobody reads these things anyway. I guess I just wanna make sure it stays that way... Ah, yes! A good reason came to my head. I'll write all this random shit so I can look back on it one day and remember. I know I only made that up so as not to feel insecure about my motives but let's play along. (I think) I'll want to remember things later, just to feel like I have something to attest my very existence. Like a receipt from some store showing that I got screwed like everybody else.

That's because, as with everything, it won't matter after a while. At least, that's the code of life everybody seems to be abiding. No, really. Look around you. How many items are in the reach of your hands that once never mattered to you, or soon will not? How many people? Hm? How many dreams have you forgotten and how many have you willingly let go of? How many do you think you have left? Are you happy? Are you happy because of your own deeds or because of all the things others do for you? Do you get to see your wish come true? And if not, do you fill the emptiness with plain and meaningless stuff just so the vacuum won't suck you in? And in that void, would you see yourself naked? Are you afraid to? So what do you wear? The same garment everyone's afraid to tear? Does it feel right to gain comfort in knowing everybody's afraid of what you are as well?

Is this too much? Too many questions? You wanna go to your "special place"? No, really. Do you hesitate to answer because you don't know where this is coming from or because you're afraid to answer? Aren't those two the same? Are you rocking yourself into the belief that we're different? Is that you're excuse for silence? It matters to me but not to you, right? Sure. We're different. I keep a pigsty around myself. I'm broke, I'm irritated. I get drunk too often. Last time I did, I got bruised up in a mosh. Didn't shower for days after that. And when I did, I had no hot water. As soon as I finished, the hot water came back. I haven't slept well for over a year. I keep trying to. I've wasted my day and now I'm listening to Mr. Cohen's ten new songs, trying to catch a drowse. I'm a joke. See? I'm nothing like you. And as long as you believe that, you don't have to answer the questions above. You just gotta hold on to your beliefs! Sleep tight. Don't open your eyes, keep them shut, everything's alright. Yeah, right...

My dear reader, I've promised you Hell and that is what you'll get. Look around you, look inside you. No, really. This isn't Hell, not quite, but we're getting there.

Supplication

2009-07-09T11:05:00.001+03:00

Bring me
slumber
never
ending
As I
cut my
eyes out
for you
Grant me
your sight
that of
a god
"Constant
dreaming
water
running
Snaking
into
endless
embrace
Reaching
deepest
primal
darkness
Saline
oceans
dreaming
boiling
Final
tides of
nothing
rising
High rock
ceding
to the
lifeless
Mother
consumes
unwished
offspring"
At last
raging
freedom
swallow
My eyes
turning
towards
insides
Grant me
wisdom
that of
a god
Grant me
faith to
carry
my blood
Over
the walls
of my
veins

At the mercy of the gods of doubt

2009-07-02T03:58:00.006+03:00

...and the drums beat to a slow dirge from hell
With a loud strike of the old copper bell.
Once again my thoughts have been compromised!
All is poured back into their mouth of lies,
Where I feel trapped by my own haunting fears,
When my mind melts, leaving my head as tears.
I am left here with a haunting unease,
Forced to give them anything they shall please.

Can they take my sight to falsehood to mesh?
Will they tempt me with an idol of flesh?
Will they take my love for what I have pure?
Will the dreams I have fall to their allure?

From their mouth comes my red tidal despair
And it floods me, leaving no room for air,
With a loud strike of the funeral bell,
Starts the drumbeat to the dirge back to hell...

Ghoul

2009-06-27T14:21:00.003+03:00

(Pamphlet IV)

Did I abuse alcohol? I don't really know.
Maybe it was the spirits that abused me.
Woke up on a chilling bed - absent thoughts.
Stench of Death: from my mouth, from my skin.
Dance with Death, a step on her foot.
I can't see. All is a glow.
Sore throat - I'm not to speak!
To listen, to hear...
I'm still trembling,
The gospel
Within
Shines!

Random I

2009-06-26T18:00:00.002+03:00

A while ago I asked a friend an obviously hypothetical question:

Imagine you had to choose, would you rather fuck a chick with mediocre breasts, or one that has only one, but perfect knocker?

I'm not putting this down because of the question but because of the answer I got.

Seriously

2009-06-25T17:08:00.005+03:00

...how can you tell the difference between being insane and being sane with everyone around you being disturbed?

Wake up call, part II

2009-06-10T22:39:00.004+03:00

It didn't rain. While outside we got to the Graveyard of the Soviet Heroes and with nothing to do, we threw large bits of dry earth at the obelisk with the red star. Some faggot tried to call the cops on us so we split and got home. Asshole.

My sock drawer rails got busted and I couldn't fix them, though trying to was a good waste of my time. Need new rails. Fuck me sideways if I'm getting those this year.

It's still fucking hot around here. If I was told the Earth was a star too, it wouldn't seem so ludicrous right now. Damn. At least I'm not sleepy anymore. 22:44 yeah, that's about the time I feel like getting up.

"Up, up and away!"

Wake up call, part I

2009-06-10T19:06:00.004+03:00

I hadn't had a decent meal all day. My breakfast was brandy and my lunch was beer. It's Wednesday. I lied down and hoped that when I wake up it'll be Sunday or something. This heat is killing me. I feel like I wanna puke but I might fall asleep doing that.

A friend just called and asked me to go out. Neither of us know what for, we don't have any money or any plans for today. I'm gonna go out, see if I can shake the drowse from my eyes. Damn, I almost forgot to flush. I'm gonna work on some internet banners tonight if none of my organs fail till then. Shit, it's past seven. I hope it rains while I'm out.

I hope it rains...

A night out

2009-06-08T12:37:00.008+03:00

Last night I went out for a beer with a friend. That beer turned out to be three strong beers. In the moments of euphoria that followed, we decided to investigate and abandoned part of a large building complex on one of the main streets in town. Basically it was just a run-down old ditch with a lot of garbage and dust everywhere. I could see inside from the window but the door was blocked off from the outside by shrubbery. The only way I could get inside was leaping to a small platform next to a door.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, then I managed to get a nasty scratch on my leg from a rusted railing I landed on. So after exploring the insides, I climbed out at another opening and made for the emergency ward at my end of town. I sat down, patiently waiting for someone to clean my leg. What can I tell you about the emergency ward? It stinks like hell sometimes and they have to do with some of the dumbest and most tragic cases. I recognized a guy from one of the beds, said hello on his way out and we began talking and went for a beer after I got cleaned up. We exchanged a lot of simple words, basically about our plans in life and that kind of stuff. The air was great, the beer was cold, I was glad I didn't go home.

We were sitting in a dark park so the police won't catch us drinking outside and loitering, when we saw a common friend walking a chick home. We called them over and the lot of us soon parted ways with the dude from the emergency ward since with his exception, we were all heading the same way. I began discussing a lot of philosophical things with this other guy which, again, seemed like a good idea at the time, with 5 pale lagers worth of alcohol in me. The girl he was with got home and we continued up the hill, towards our neighborhood.

We argued about a lot of things but, I can't stress this enough, it was much more interesting and enjoyable than sleeping. We stood outside his home, arguing for hours about human nature, cosmology, cause and effect, rules and exceptions to them, that kind of stuff. Really abstract subjects which for some, like me, are an interesting and seemingly simple matter but for some, it's hard not to keep your thoughts rooted in the world as you know it. That kind of contrast in the way we perceived things made the whole thing pretty pointless in the end but it wasn't about proving anything, it was about not sleeping at night.

I got home at about 7 AM and went to bed. At around 11 I got up because a bee was humming and knocking himself against the inward side of my window. Experiencing an unworldly fatigue and disorientation, I still managed to punch it without smearing it on the window or getting my fist stung. The achievement pleased me and renewed my sleepiness. Hurray!

I got up a couple of hours later to see the bee still alive and dragging himself on the floor like a wounded soldier on the field. Good. With whatever primitive sensory organs and nervous system it has, I hope it's capable of experiencing extreme pain. I stepped over to the computer and thought about some of the things this guy had told me. Apparently his vast knowledge of the universe indicates that the trans-Neptune object known as Pluto is a star.

It all became clear to me in that moment! So in the universe there are only stars and planets, and since according to recent criteria, Pluto does not qualify as a planet, it is a star! My life was a lie until he opened my eyes! I was believing in fairytales like asteroids and comets, Kuiper belt objects and natural satellites of planets, gas giants and solid rock objects with iron cores, solar wind and universal background radiation, gaseous regions millions of times thinner than a fart yet so vast, their weight is of millions of times that of the Earth... God damn it no! There are only stars and planets! Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

I have some work to do today, so as this post falls into oblivion, I'll leave you with two images which clearly show that our Sun and Pluto are of the same nature.

An artist's conception of Pluto's surface, based on our current understanding, with Charon, it's natural satellite clearly visible

Telescope image of the edge of the Sun

The vengeance I retain

2009-06-06T16:43:00.001+03:00

Where frightful shadows rub against my eyes,
To leave your world at last is my one fate.
Your fetus claws your womb in sordid hate,
I see you left to feed a cloud of flies
That shrouds the starlight out of memory;
The storm you brewed now comes to take us all
And drag us into graves of ivory.
The pillars of my temple stand to fall,
However, I have heard the calling deep.
My sight is lost but I can hear His voice:
Come see me under violent tides of sleep...
O Master see me, I have made my choice!
Behind the clad of darkness I prepare,
The vengeance I retain will never wear.

Seven pair of thirteen inch wings

2009-05-30T03:05:00.007+03:00

(Pamphlet III)

Sorry I had never gotten the jokes you had made,
It's a shame I'd never felt your tricks had been my game.
From the day we went outside to hang around and play,
Through the days and nights we chased the butterflies away,
I never really felt like there's pleasure in the catch.
I have waited long for the doves of freedom to hatch.
Burning in a buttered pan I've had this much to say:
I have never found the tune that beckoned me to sway
To the rays of the celestial mother on her ride,
And I've let the wind rob me of my beloved bride.
I'm to lay myself to rest as champion of none...
And, my friend, that is a wish that will not be undone!
From the day on which I was born to this world to live,
I knew, in the end, I'll have only my life to give.

Again

2009-05-24T00:01:00.010+03:00

(Pamphlet II)

Pieces of my Self are scattered all over the floor
I'm pulling myself together and breaking in vain
The door is locked and the room is going up in smoke
And pain drools ever so hungry over my bare skin...
The walls crack and from beyond I see the eyes that blink
"Of course you'll let me take you, of course you want it too,
I think we've always known it and now the time has come.
Walk into the waters that swallow the burning suns!"

Both halves of the cup are empty,
And our hearts in drought...
Will we find the lands of plenty
We have always sought?

Are my ears still pounding to this never ending beat?
Or is it the sound of my pulse against my own head?
And in heat will you grip me tightly with your sharp nails?
My bed will you leave in waste or make it our altar?
I'm spinning in dreams again without your saving word
With hopes I'll never have to wake and find I'm alone
Inward I collapse again, my sins of thought arrive...
Atone my vanity, move your hands to close my eyes!

Mushrooms

2009-05-20T21:01:00.008+03:00

(Pamphlet I)

Pull the strings from the holes on my lips
Intertwined, sown to shut me up
Release the words with the power to devour
Fleshy virtue, mine to destroy!
No higher purpose, no greater joy
Than to drag the rat back underneath
Precise razor vomit on your walls of meat
Fornicating with the widow of the End!
Blind am I to see my sons at my bed
Weak am I to raise my hand in blessing
A fool am I to acknowledge my own seed
(the best of that I've spilled wastefully!)
...but reckless still, I'll open my mouth
And from within I'll spew my will
Your eye, my son, in cunt hairs on my throat
Will rail down into intestinal abyss!
Receive, my daughter, the dirt in your womb
He who you once kissed will chew on your face
His curse will grow the mushrooms on your cleft
Spread the spores to cover up the earth!

Take not the bread and drink not the milk!
I will not be, I will not see!
But I need not worry!
(for I know)

Dark River Festival III

2009-05-15T22:02:00.005+03:00

I'm leaving for Valea Întunecată tomorrow morning. We have a gig at a festival there. I'll need all the sleep I can get tonight. It feels like going to war, like leaving something behind. Yet it feels like I am blessed.

Falling 'tween the teeth of the unknown, I can only hope that my path will be true. We will kick serious amounts of ass!

At one with the self?

2009-05-14T12:27:00.005+03:00

Not one step back! The more I think about old times, the more I think that I could have had it better. The more I think about good old times, the more I think that I once had it better, even for a moment. Unacceptable! Born into servitude to a beast that devours it's own, one does not have the luxury of his own path. Even idling is a crime. But I feel drawn back...

Lord, how can it be that I never wanted to remember yet I dream it every night? Lord, give me strength! Give me the power to let that which is forlorn be forgotten! It must be so. These cuts on the flesh must be sown shut before I'm ripped to pieces.

Time never heals. I do.

Home

2009-05-13T23:13:00.003+03:00

I've spent most of the day home... avoiding everything and everyone until I'd gotten the call that the band had to rehearse today. We have a gig in the weekend and won't be able to rehearse on any other day.

I got outside and realized that, after breaking them in, my new shoes are a tad too big. Gonna take them back to the store and get a smaller pair. This is the only thing that will push me to wake up at a normal time tomorrow. I focused all my energy on my singing and the whole thing went well but I got pretty tired by the end of it. I had to blow off walking my girlfriend home from her Romanian lessons.

When I got home I felt this almost unlawful joy. I was happy to put an end to my day but it felt like I wasn't allowed to be glad. I switched my PC on and signed into some accounts to check up on people. Since I rearranged my contacts and have hidden those offline or invisible, I don't get frustrated idiots online and those I enjoy talking to being offline. I was gonna put some bockwursts on the stove and freshen up while they boil. But then the phone rang.

It was my girlfriend. We're breaking up very soon, I just gave her some "buffer time" to get used to the idea. She started asking me a lot of complicated questions. There was a lot of back and forth and I kept telling her I was in the middle of something. Well, not to be an ass I only raised my tone a little and answered her questions as briefly and clearly as possible. I told her I wanted to have that meal before my mother came home. "Of course, she understood". But not before wasting twenty-something minutes of my time. The moment we hung up I heard the key turning. Damn it!

I tried avoiding her bad side during her routine conversation about things I need to do, things she needs to do and how to make use of time in the following days. After a few minutes I sat down to the table with my cherished half a dozen bockwursts, hoping to have a nice, quiet and humble meal. My mother checked the fridge for things to eat and soon enough started making ironic remarks about how little food was missing since she left for work earlier. I had a decent meal in the afternoon. I didn't know what her problem was. My immediate reaction to these kinds of things is a gentle reply, explaining that the person I'm talking to is mistaken and that I have indeed done whatever it is they think I didn't do. As if she didn't hear me, she reiterated. Touché!

I absolutely hate that kind of behavior. I lost my temper and told her to go to hell. What's the point in being very nice when you're still getting insulted? Regardless of what I tell her, she'll remain prejudiced and hardheaded. I hate it when I'm picked on during a meal. It's sacrilege. But I have a condition. It's called diabetes. Ever since I developed it, she's been in my side, "trying to look out for me and my dietary habits". I'd appreciate if she would indeed make our diet a healthy one and be real about it. But I'm disgusted about how she perverts her "attention" to me to rock herself into this imaginary little world where she rational and assertive and is actually helping anybody. She does not. She doesn't even help herself. She told me that I knew nothing about psychology, that she needed to tell me that I hadn't eaten enough, that it helps her. Bullshit. It's no treatment, it's a symptom. I hate people who lie to themselves and drag others down with them. This kind of shit is pretty sad when you get it from your own mother.

On my way back to my room I thought about how often I get this feeling. How utterly pointless it sometimes to talk to people and try to reason with them, when their discomfort and conceit collide. Thoughts drifted to people and places I have left behind. I can almost get high on such emotional charges so to catalyze it, I put on a song in repeat mode that really help this feeling blossom: Pearl Jam - Black. I told some people about what the song means to me but the truth is, I'm not sure I myself even know what it really means...

Madness

2009-05-10T17:00:00.003+03:00

(to Sarah Peters-Tissot, an opus with strong gothic hues, on the corruption of our nature; exercising the charm of well-woven words)

Snaking lies entangle the air,
Sickness spurs from all their despair!
Shaking eyes in complete dismay
Witness her threatening display...

Ringing dark are the empty halls,
But she knows freedom's yond the walls.
Singing lark taunting on the breach:
A key glows just outside her reach.

Devoid of hope and ambition,
Thrown in chains for her condition,
Destroyed on the barrens of shame,
Droning pains take hold of her frame.

Mirrors, on walls full of voices,
Whisper away all her choices.
In her arms she buries her face,
Withers the frail glare of her grace.

Meadow glowing lit by the moon,
Tender-spoken winds sing a croon.
Shadow growing outside her cell,
Renders open a gate to hell.

Out leans the Devil from the shade,
Saying he has come to her aid.
Doubt leaves the unsuspecting dame
Playing into his tempting game.

Shrewdly luring her in, he now
Issues to her a solemn vow:
"Surely you'll be set free to walk
If you took your hands from the lock".

Readily catered to his whim,
Full of childish cheers to the brim,
Steadily, she loosens her grip,
Pulls her hands and lets the key slip.

Deceiving her with every sound,
Elated, he steps on her ground.
Receiving no sworn liberty,
Belated she begs for mercy.

Enslaved in the hell she had raised,
Acrid taste of dreams he had razed
Engraves on her heart a sadness:
Sacred sacrifice to madness.

Specimina

2009-04-30T12:28:00.002+03:00

I have a list of the five dumbest people I met during my menial job handing out ads. Mind you, there were a lot of dumb fucks but these five take the cake. Here we go!

The fifth most deranged citizen to start a conversation with the hand-out boy (yours truly) was a drunken fool who pertained to be a cook himself. Ever time he passed me, he told me a riddle about cooking. Of course I had no fucking idea about more serious cuisine so he answered his riddles himself and then told me to take off the chef's hat, because I don't deserve it. The only thing that came off was my ass, from laughing at him.

The forth most unfortunate soul that I came across or, technically, came across me was a mean little old lady. She never understood me out of the four times I explained to here that it was an ad to an online service. I think she didn't know what the internet was. She was probably senile because she asked me for a flier every time she passed me by. Five times in ten minutes! In the end I told her I wasn't gonna give her any, she already got plenty and it didn't affect her. She threw a fit and demanded I gave her one. Luckily for me, it was my last five minutes of the last day of work. I just walked away.

Number three is a young school boy who asked me about the work I was doing. It was like talking to the radio. I told him what the work required, how much the pay was and what not. In the end he told me that he wouldn't wear that hat and apron for the pay I got. I asked him why it would bother him to wear the hat. He said it looked stupid and the whole deal seemed like a waste of time to him. I asked him what he wanted to do with his "precious" time. He replied that he wanted to pick up chicks. This coming from a skinny little teenager with bad teeth and traces of an undesired ethnic profile on his complexion. I laughed at his face and told him I rather he didn't, he might actually find one and breed. Oh no!

Runner-up on my list of idiots is an old-timer who took insult from the fact that I was advertising for a website about restaurants. He boastfully told me that he knew all about the restaurants in my region before I was even born. As expected, I was baffled in awe. He thought the whole deal with the internet was pointless. His choice of words reflected his stupidity even more. So I looked at him with the most skeptical face I have as I was thinking "Old man, you wanna to argue with me, the hand-out boy? You people must be really lonely."

Finally, the crown goes to an old lady with a badly bruised face. I was talking to a friend I met and was handing out some more ads in the meantime. We spoke in Hungarian and apparently the old lady wasn't as deaf as she was dumb. Upon handing her one, she gave it back and told me she didn't know Hungarian. I didn't say anything but I thought "You dumb cunt, that's not your problem! You can't read, otherwise you'd know it's in Romanian". Unbelievable!

Embracing the self, part II

2009-04-28T15:52:00.002+03:00

As a start to my disciplining myself, I took up a menial job handing out fliers with a friend. For nine days we had worked a daily three hours in the sun, dressed up as cooks. Some people might see this kind of thing as demeaning. Yes, some people laughed with us, some people laughed at us. We handed out about 2000 fliers every day. Looking back, it was a pretty interesting experience but I'll write about it from the start.

It all had started with my friend and I having our full of wasting our time at home all day. We had been neglecting our studies since the beginning of this semester. We just had gotten sick of the university schedule and the people there. One day one of us got an email saying they were looking for two people to hand some fliers out downtown. We thought "Yeah. Sure, why not?". We hardly knew any details at the time, it sort of just happened that we went to the interview, if you can call it that. It was at a local newspaper. When we got there, there were two girls there, applying for the same job. We sat down with the guy who sent the email and he told us we'll have to dress up as cooks, people are probably going to laugh and some might take our picture or have theirs taken with us. Even though the girls said they're OK with that kind of stuff, the guy at the interview didn't seem to believe them. He didn't say anything but from the way he looked at them, my friend and I knew we were going to get picked.

We got started on Monday, April 13. The first three days were pretty tiring but after that we got the hang of it and it seemed to us as if we were passing out more and more fliers every day. However, it's not the work itself that was interesting but realizing how much you can learn about someone in the few seconds it takes to give them a piece of paper. I changed location every day so I also had the opportunity to observe how certain parts of the town square have more of a certain type of person. There were a lot of old, dumb, poor and country people around the bus stop area. They gave me a hard time as a lot of them were too lazy or dumb to read the flier and rather had me explain to them what it was that we were advertising. I guess I should mention that the flier was an ad for a website that lists the menu of some restaurants, pizza parlors and fast food joints in town. Click here to view the site. It's all in Romanian, as were the fliers. You'll see in another post why I mention this.

Being mocked and putting up with the stupidity of random people, without having a choice was exactly why I took the job. I guess the most common problem, subsequently the most annoying one, with these sheep was that while some of them, the younger ones, seemed to get the message and were generally happy to hear, a lot of citizens from my area haven't got a fucking clue about what a URL looks like. Not much point in having it pressed onto my hat and apron then, is there?

Then there were hobos that kept asking me if there were free meals to be had. The trick with hobos is to just ignore them. If you notice them, they'll stick around. A few sandwiches short of that picnic were the idiots that upon taking the flier from me stopped and asked me where they could go with it. They expected a discount or something. I told them it was just an ad for a site, whereupon most of them walked away but some of them saw the whole think as pointless and asked me stuff like what were they to do if they don't have internet? They really seemed upset, offended and even insulted because it was something online. I the year 2009 of the bastard Nazarene, you only insult yourself with a reaction like that. Did I know they don't use the internet? No. Did I care? Absolutely not. I was standing on the street with hundreds of fliers in my hand. The motto was "Take the fucking thing and get the fuck away!"

Some people got mad because we didn't care they were in a hurry and stuck the flier in front of them as they went. Some people were insulted because we didn't care that they had "too much class" to take a goddamn handout from a dude in a costume. Some people were upset that we kept handing them the thing when they already got one. Did we care? No. In fact the look upon a person's face, especially that of a girl or a woman who holds herself in high regard, when she thinks she's not being noticed is priceless. We kept doing it to them.

During all this I sometimes examined the people I met during the short moments with each. From looking at their hands as they reached for the flier, I could tell a lot of things. If they had dry skin around the fingers, they smoked a lot. If they had blisters or burns on their hands, I could tell what kind of work they did. A lot of people had a common jail tattoo. It's comes in the form of five ink dots, like the five side of a die, between the base of the index finger and the thumb. I noticed how a woman will always take a handout from you if she notices another, more attractive woman taking one too. I also noticed how that same kind of woman (the less attractive one) will be likely not to take anything from you if the people in front of her don't. This kind of thing led to chain reactions where up to eight people didn't take a flier. Another thing I noticed was how a person accompanying a handicapped person only takes something from you if the latter takes one too.

At the end of every day we sat down for a couple of beers. And laughed about the poor bastards we saw that day. Some of the work was fun and some of it was a drag. I'm glad I did it but I don't think I'll be doing it very soon. I still see insulting and demeaning situations to build character. However, the next steps in the process of my self-improvement will a form of self-mortification and taking a more serious approach on my workout and exercise. My diet and my biorhythm also need a lot of tweaking. Well, I gotta start somewhere. I'm gonna pick up some sterile razor blades now and begin with mild forms of self-harm in one of these days. I hoping to benefit from endorphins being released into my system. Should be interesting.

Embracing the self, part I

2009-04-28T01:07:00.011+03:00

I came across this release tonight and gave it a listen. Pretty awesome but didn't really blow my mind or anything. It just fits my mood at the moment. Raw, low quality, chaotic music by people who were probably piss drunk in the studio. Apparently they did a three-way split with these guys and these. The latter band is worth a lot of attention, especially with their first EP. I don't know about their other releases, however. They consider the above mentioned split release to be a bootleg so it's not on the Metal Archives. Tough luck.

Anyway, here I am chilling to these tunes and I thought this would be a good time to write about some thoughts of mine and the things I've been up to. Mind you, I had wanted to post about lots of things in the past days but hadn't cut myself the slack. To start, I wanna say that I think society always went up and down the hill. There are times of peace followed by conflict and vice-versa. There are times when people set a goal for themselves, sacrifice things to reach that goal and, even for a mere moment, have the impression that they have a purpose... And then there are times when everybody just shits and breeds and grazes even the most horrendous of weeds. This is what's going on now. We have no enemy to fend off at the borders, we have no disasters threatening our back yards. Well, nothing the authorities can't handle, or didn't come up with, for that matter. You'd think that's striking the paranoid note a little too hard. But when I think about such joyous phenomena as this (was in the media around the clock a couple of years ago, funny how nobody cares today) and how producers in the affected industries profit from advertising their products as safer than others, I come to realize how often we have our lives steered in the wrong direction. Now we're made to see those among us as the enemy. That's just a few steps shy of being made to see yourself as the enemy you must defeat.

I believe that somehow the shit always hits the fan at least once in your lifetime. No matter where you are, you're always gonna end up in in the gutter. And if you look at the demographics, you'll see that the likelihood of major disastrous, damaging and fundamentally changing events taking place in an area is inversely proportional to life expectancy. In some African regions, you're lucky to make it to the age of 40 but there's always conflict there. In places like Japan where people live for up to a century, nothing seems to really bother them, for most of the time, but a lot of them probably remember Fat Man and Little Boy, don't they now? Following that pseudo-statistic, the fact that we don't live forever insures that things will always go wrong and you're gonna be there to see it.

I hate the way people think we should live. I don't know about your area, but over here we managed to go from "poor new democracy" to this haven for lawless freeloaders and feeble-minded, uneducated flocks of snobs. Everybody seems to be making money. Kids driving fancy cars and wearing designer clothes. Jewelry and accessories, do the populace ever love it! We think that technology gives us access to everything. In fact it gives access to us for whoever takes charge on it. How did this happen? Simple: loans. We're very much in debt. And everybody seems to be very comfortable with that. What people don't seem to realize is that when things go to shit, there will be no more asking. There will only be "being told".

Damn, I'm getting tired and this post is becoming too long and drifting from one side note to the other. In my next post, I will elaborate how the things I wrote about affect me but right now I need some shuteye.

To be continued...

Collapse

2009-04-23T02:27:00.008+03:00

Here I am sitting in front of the computer at night, when I should be sleeping, since I've got work tomorrow. As I'm typing these words, I'm reflecting on how extremely dull the last month or so has been.

Every day I wake up wishing everything around me just disappeared. For I know that, in the morning, in the hormonal jump-start I get after waking up, whatever plans may seem in my grasp will surely appear far away by the time I'm done with my daily routine and make time for myself.

This last month has been eventful and I've constantly planned to put these events in writing here but enthusiasm keeps lingering away. I feel lame, everything is pointless to me and as to any human, it is very depressing. It's ironic that in a world where everything is governed by the cause and the effect, one can find such a static recluse. There is no cause here, and consequently no effect.

It's like the three axes of space point inward, withershins. I can feel them collapse. They're like sharp teeth that grip on time itself. Swallow it! But its sands are so fine, they seep through the cavities of space' horrendous jaws. I can almost hear the Earth screech as it turns. So many ideas, so many possibilities but nothing to do! Nothing to life for, nothing to die for. Everything to kill.

"In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps."

Infinity hymn

2009-04-20T20:11:00.008+03:00

Too much is the stench of this life,
Human condition to bear,
To hold the self in a snare.
There is freedom needless of strife
In a place for those who dare.

From behind the light of the stars,
Behold ever watchful eye,
Your will I cannot defy.
I have broken the iron bars
To release the final sigh.

Lord of universal downfall,
Your praise my only spoken,
My will cannot be broken.
Ageless evil come and enthrall
My life, my only token.

Tears upon the edge of cosmos,
To shatter creation's heath,
Dragon mother sinks her teeth.
Spewing vomit so phosphorous
To consume all in its wreath!

A black spell of hatred to cast,
And to the void relinquish
The crown of thorns extinguished!
The bastard god in chains at last,
In emptiness to languish!

A realm defined not by what is,
Not a living soul to scream,
No other side to the stream.
Kingdom of all children of his
Never to rise from the dream.

The faceless floating in the sea,
Destined never to exist,
And conception to resist.
Possessing the lock and the key,
Faith alone left to persist.

The negative plane to wonder,
On the borderless to mass,
In the bottomless to cast.
Light from dark no more asunder,
Comprehension to surpass.

To feed His unholy essence,
Gather in chaos as one,
To be fulfilled and undone.
Into everlasting absence,
At long last the Lord has come!

Leave the body

2009-04-11T17:43:00.009+03:00

Without shape and yet unposessed,
Spirits cling to the nothingness,
Upon the patterns of non-existence,
Fall from the light into pools of pestilence.

Unborn king dreaming silently,
Pass on to lands of agony!
Open your eyes and crawl out of the womb,
Leave the body, dead uterine earthly tomb!

Rule of a living arrogance -
It's fate is sealed in abhorrence.
To forbidden heights it had ascended,
Now it stands to fall and become amended.

Welcome by a harlot's embrace,
Desires strip of any grace.
Excited seeds from under living crust
Leave the body becoming one with the dust!

And the reap of evil begins,
To drown all in unholy sins.
Blood runs on the hands that once held the hoe.
Leave the body through all openings in woe!

The soul receding to the shade,
Away from fertile fields of jade,
Kneels down in supplication to the Lord.
Time will end at last and all shall be restored.

A rope around the neck to tie,
To uproot the self from the I.
Spirits sing for a reunion in death,
Leave the body through the chill of a last breath!

The shells that hold the universe
Peel away, all to be reversed.
Pralaya to hold in motionless bliss,
The serpent to swallow all from it's chalice.

Twirling vortex of emptiness,
Into your mouth all shall regress.
Slowly crawling to the ultimate void,
Leave the body for the darkness and the cold!

Excremental aesthetics

2009-04-04T12:35:00.006+03:00

Throughout much of my life, I chose to stay at a distance from people. I have no problem approaching individuals with my ideas but approaching a crowd was never really my thing. I can feel at home in a room with half a dozen people. However, when there are more than twenty sheep in the flock, like a goat perches atop a mountain, I tend to find a quiet corner to sit down and watch them manifest their inner beings.

Last night I went out for a couple of beers with a friend. Usual place: a club called the Cage 88. It's rock night every Friday night which means a bunch of fucktards banging to shitty plastic music. So, we make the scene and I don't even get the chance to go in when these two dudes I know step outside for a breather and we say hello to each other. One of them, in his drunken haze gives me a hug. You know, not the overly gay kind, but still very awkward: put's one arm around, knocks me in the back as if saying "Hang in there man!". I was like "WTF! Get off me idiot!" - then he told me some really stupid shit about how my face can't lie and he knew there was something wrong. Yeah, I had a fight with my girl. We're not doing so well and I want things to be over but he didn't know that. If this wasn't dumb enough, his buddy turns to me and asks me if I knew a girl named...? My only answer to these questions is no. He said she knew me so I had to know her. Well this depends on what you mean by "knowing somebody".

On my way down, I was thinking about how my being part of a local band sort of puts me in the spotlight (for a couple of hours every month, anyway). So I bought my first beer and found a place to sit, but not before being greeted by every nickel ante loser on every corner of the hall. Sitting with my pal, we could really cherish the few moments of silence we had.

After the first strong lager I went around the venue and bumped into a fine specimen of urban loser. This guy promised us stage equipment for a gig with a few local bands several weeks back but it turned out he had nothing. He really sunk in my eye on that account. Then I heard he talked to my girl about why I didn't get the job as DJ for the rock nights in the Cage. He told her that they thought that my music was too partial to more serious extreme metal and I wasn't bothered with other forms of party music done with strings and drums. That wasn't the case at all. In fact, the couple of times I was on try-outs there, it was he who kept asking for thrash metal. If that wasn't spineless enough, this queer looking skinny mother fucker asked me how come I didn't get the job? After talking to the staff a little while back, I understood that the original DJ blew a chance for other career prospects and he was just sticking to his old job. I told him I had no idea why I wasn't hired. I split before he got another chance to ask for a punch in the face.

Later on, people started bumping into me even while I was sitting down. One dude praised my performance on my last gig. It would have made him OK in my book if he and his friends hadn't wasted our time with his national pride and mislead political rhetoric the week before. Chicks were becoming more and more easy to get and guys were in the mood to fight. I hoped to see some action but then something amazing happened. In a about half an hour, more than half of the party-goers split, even though it wasn't closing time. As far as I know, no black eyes, no broken furniture, no rushing to the pharmacy for the morning-after pill the next day. I can't say I'm not disappointed. I didn't get a good chance to see how dumb people get with each other. Plus, too many of them seemed to know me and really got in my face.

"The truth will set you free."

To know is freedom. To be known is to be put in irons.

Let there be more light!

2009-03-30T22:06:00.002+03:00

...being introverted to the point of narcissism, I continue to post about myself. Here I promise my yet-to-be-conceived readers all the joyous wonders that are in store for them in exchange for their faith: there will be deception and manipulation with the intent to harm, there will be shock and awe, dismay and disbelief.

It will be total mind-fuck. You'll be asking for more. Then we will have a birthday party on the roof with long, pointy, metal hats, while there is a thunderstorm, followed by the scourge of a locust swarm!

Women's eyes - weary, annoyed, red, melting, men's mouth - careless, open, lilac, dry! Children will touch silent walls. The dream will be sweet. There will be light still. The wine is red.

Dead but dreaming

2009-03-30T02:07:00.000+03:00

Yet another emanation of the essence that is I.

As of March, 2009 this blog represents my latest attempt to manifest something close to ethereal in a world ephemeral, the success of which only time will tell.