Micolus the Colossus

Of course its not acting! It's all a part of me, don't you realize that? And with those words, he receded into his own little world. Little, yes, that was the word they used. Yet they do not realize, in their hubrid coma, that all their thoughts, their smiles, their sorrows, their very lives even, BELONG TO ME.

I opened up the refrigerator doors and our eyes met. It all happened so sudden. A packet of baked beans, clad in metallic armor, glistening in the raw kitchen lighting. I froze. And then it all turned black.

Why do I even bother writing anymore?



A voice of old returned to him. A voice pre-revolution, pre-enterprise, and pre-empire. A voice so infantile. A voice so beautiful. It called for him.

"Jump... For the love of God, just JUMP"

adieu

And for some reason I went off in a haze quoting random lines from the Dawn of War computer game.

I did it. I fucking did it, and I'm still doing it. Seclusion, intrusion. Yes, alone in a cultural forest!

Anyway, so let me share with you, my loved ones, what my night was all about. Harry and his friends(it was... adequate, I guess :/) left me a mediocre letter d'adieu, as I barged out of what used to be a dreamy vision; a grand theater of my mind. Through the golden vestibule I hurried and towards the steel chariot, with whom I had been acquainted several years earlier. However this time, it was devoid of canines.

Dropped off. Still hazy. Walking on steel streets. Walking home.

Home, ha ha. What a silly thing to call a shack like mine. But it is my place of sleep, nevertheless, and I must respect it as such. Inside, sheltered. Sheltered? I asked myself. Sheltered from what? From adventure? From LIFE? But alas, here I am. Cold yet warm.

Climb the stairs, what now?

Pull the bronze lever and start the machinery. Plug into the many cords, using my past experiences. Breathing heavily. Drifting away.

Cultural heaven. Nowhere to be seen.

adieu







This winter scares the shit out of me:

Waking up. Thinking of cliché ways to start a blog post.

Ha

Anyway, so arriving from the Temples of Boom, I went without hesitation into the haste of cultural heaven.

First a shower, then an orange. Now I'm all set! Warm up with some Uncharted

Uncharted 2 - It'll huff and puff and blow your head off!

Then its off to some hard core HP-action, only to return to some football with the vatrus. Going home through neon streets, the icy cold creeping up my spine, and watching a couple of movies, eating some peanut rings, and playng some more Uncharted.

Thats how tonight's gonna be. I'm in love with my future.

See, saturday morning is the best moment of one's life.

Friday should definitely not be remembered, but saturday shall. Yup, adieu friends.

And I'm sorry, I want to be with you more, all of you, but tonight is mine... minemine

woah





Right I forgot, fate found a new way to fuck my face. RUSH ARE COMING TO SWEDEN. BUT WHEN? WHEN THE FUCK DID THEY CHOSE TO PUT THE DATE??? FUCKING MAY 6TH. One motherFUCKING day after Roger Waters. What do I do. (it's in the same arena so... maybe I'll... no I couldn't do that, could I..?)

D;

He put an end to the turbulent rule of the pen. No more was he to be its subject. No more was he to serve in its stead. No more was he to be shackled by its tremendous might. A new tide has come: The Glorious age of the mind!

Nevermind the scripture, lying in their ancient graves. Nevermind the yellown pages, blowing away like DUST in the solemn winds. Nevermind the concrete, the metaphor nor the description. Use only the mind. And ye shall see, that the temples will fall, and ye will witness the plague among the herds, but from the ruins, ye shall see a new dawn: An age of completion.

Of abstract beauty, of intrinsic wisdom, and infinite memory.

My children, this is heaven.

Now fasten the rope around your neck real tight. And ye shall feel the Lord of the free and just within your soul.

Accept him in your heart.

Love him.

You can't believe this. There is literally no way that you will be able to fathom the greatness of this major occurrance. See, the planets align and the stars shine bright, let us all make love tonight.

Yes! That is how it's supposed to go down.. Now what I came here today to say is this:

I am officially ready to take on the final episode of Seinfeld. What a journey it has been.


A tear is shed.

Glisten up folks, youze in for a treat. WhenAVVE I find maself in a kinduva pickle, I always say to myself: Yo, bro, iss cool, bro, chillout bro. But that shit just ain't true anymore. What you should be doin' instead, iss veree simple this really, iss very fucked up right now. Whenavve in a pickle, lissen to de wodz of Johnny anderssun. Eh, Jon, lemme hear you sing, nigga.

Jon: LAAAAH LAAh LAH LAH LAH LAAAAAH LAH LAH

Laughtez dyin'

children cryin

Mirror mirror, just look inside

Tell me child, what do you see? I see a hypocritical truth bearer, preaching words of misleading wisdom. I see destruction and chaos emerging from ideal lands of heavenly beauty. I see change; alteration. I see time and the innumerable worlds it encompasses.

What if there was no sanctuary? What the fuck would I do?

I live amongst these people. I live amongst them, and I listen to their worthless pladdering; I listen to them not being able to move from one point to another. Their stuck, all of them, stuck in the same mindless patterns. The same schizophrenic state of being that they call life.

Ha

Life is not being alive. Life is doubt. Life is power. Life is wisdom.

See, the moment you lay back and start to FUCKING RESIDE IN YOUR learned in fucking dogmas, you cease to be. You are completely excommunicated out of, if you ever were a member, the dark heavens of reality.

No, this will not do.

Instead of watching the walls around you and learning to like them, break them, create new ones, fucking question their very existance, I don't care. Just fucking take your world for a spin every once in a while, eh.

Drown yourself in culture! Let the words and notes of othern wise humans (they too, under the influence of helplessness and chaos) surround you and teach you.

**

A battle is fought. I stand alone facing an army of thousands.

The optimist in me will scream for fighting, for indeed he believes there is a chance yet. I will fight with a furious conviction and I will die, my dreams unfulfilled and my optimistic timeless life ended. (There's a greater chance though that mr optimist will face reality, perhaps when his arm falls off, and he will panic his way into hell)

The pessimist within me will lay down arms. He will, if at all, put down a half assed fight when they grab hold of him and then he will basically accept whatever is coming to him. He will die a painful death, but he will have known what was coming to him. Dead, and apathetically so. Death to him is a relief.

The realist within me will find a different way. He will show the white flag, sweet talk his way into joining the army, or flee using most cunning techniques. The realist will survive, but for what? A life of calculation and apathy; a life for the sake of no sake. And at last he will die old and alone, as the world proves itself too mighty, and the realist will not flinch, for he knows far too well that death is an integral part of life.

The Me, however, is a bit trickier. But the me will, after major contemplation, do whatever is in the Myself's greatest interest. The Me will attack wholeheartedly. He will attack, not because he thinks he can win, that would be ridiculous. No, the Me attacks to feel. He attacks and feels the optimist joy(hubris), after which he falls to his knees in desperation as the pessimist suffering grabs hold of his mind.

And at last, when the sword touches his neck, he wanders into apathy, gently and without regrets.

And so he shall live on for eternity, accompanied by memories and dreams

Having milked the very essence of life, with all of its aspects.

And they will call him Cygnus, the God of balance he shall be.

Cygnus, be my God.



adieu

All revolutions eat their own children, wasn't it so?

Revolutions elevate man into a state of Nirvana; a state where dream and vision merge to form reality. A revolution, once achieved, will forever, no matter how bloody or unsuccessful, close the gates leading back to the state of old.

Revolutions bear new children, new societies, gathering the pieces of the shattered dream and placing them upon relic grounds.

Sacrifice life for freedom

Sacrifice life for the revolution

For now... silence

It's as it should be
THAT's how it should be

(Sorry Rob, I went with this one, htgh)

The chocolate milk in the glassen bucket stands alone gazing upon the feeble struggling of his master and maker. Yes, I created you. I harvestd you from some entropic paradise and I made order out of you. And now you stand, defying your master, claiming that you are alone the master of all things; the master of your reality.

But alas, I, as God over me, watch and smile gently.

And then he wrote:

The weekend was rather endurable. Set... now

For all that remains is an immortal bell, humming the slow march of life.

hummm
adieu

Why is it that suffering is such a fucking societal taboo? Why does the word have such a negative stigma, and why do those goddamn surrounding "people", God how could I even call them that, "characters" grasps the concept much better, never shut the fuck up?

enablers to the drug of joy. And no, I'm not talking about bacon; I'm talking about the actual societal drug of joy. You know, the reason for living.

We milk this cow of joy dry, until all that remains is a foggy vision, not quite resembling anything at all, except maybe apathy and anguish.

I've decided to stop doing song and band of the week/month. It's pretty gay.


A lone man stares into a grey ocean of nothingness. It stretches out into the horizon and beyond, surrounding his very being, confining him into the tiny island of his mind. His mind expands. His mind conquers. And soon the grey waters transform into a beautiful landscape of all shapes and colours.

Colorful waters reign gently as far as the eye can see, and the lone man is contented. His mind, however, was not.

For it had seen beyond the horizons and into new, unconquered grey seas.


>_>

Week 44, eh. A week of splendour indeed. A week of adventure. Why? Well, for starters there was no Societal Slavery going on, since we here in this blessed land are relieved from the heavy burden of school a week or two every semester. And as we all know, no school equals eternal joy!

right? right??

After returning from a few days in the far east, as far as the baltics actually, accompanied all along by the genius of Neil Young, I was rather beat. We arrived in the cold and apathetically familiar lands of Swedorum, listening to the same old bleating, surrounded by the same old sheep. So I did what anyone would do, I fixed me up a great baconous meal and went to see "Due Date", which turned out to be rather hilarious.

Anyway, so my point is this: In the movie, during a perfectly crafted scene, the song "Old Man"(which I had heard for the first time just a couple of days before) started playing.

A brilliant song about the cycles of life, and the meaninglessness of meaninglessness, I give you:





Like a coin that won't get tossed
Rolling home to you





Candidates: Rush-Lessons/ The Doors-Tell all the people/ The Doors-Wishful, Sinful/ Pink Floyd-Hey you

haha! Go figure...

Apparently windows FUCKING vista, doesn't know how to clean itself up if you catch my drift. You've got to have some sort of special version in order for one to just do a full system restoration, i.e bringing it back to its original shape and form, thus deleting Aeverything awn it.

Man, I really spent alot of time creating that backup...

Also, my anti virus-program raged and deleted first uTorrent, then it went on deleting Mozilla and to top it all of... ITSELF...

"Adaware has recognised malicious software on your computer. "adaware.exe" will now be removed". WHAT?

anyway, I apologize for random amateur computer talk..

Also, I cumm all over the dark snowfilled landscapes of my neighborhood. It's not even cold.

derp

Tonight, it's Go time.

The snow has returned, in greater numbers. Like gigantic hordes of icy fluff it rains from the skies causing terror and destruction, until at last, the heroes of the sky seize mother earth by her lovely hair and force the kneeling Goddess to deepthroat.

I used to create worlds of fiction when I was a child, and life still seemed to have the potential to be something more than nothing, and these worlds were great indeed. For example, during the wintern seasons I always imagined a war between the forces of warmth and the forces of CoOol. I came up with a whole hierarchial system for how the commanders were elected which resulted in a four way split of the forces of warmth, of which I was the rulaarr.

I was the General of Fire, cute, eh. I rode my giant red horse, which I realize now, was expendable; I used to let it fight to the death while I attempted retreat. Then there was light, which fought in lightbulbs and sunrays. They were by far the weakest faction for some reason and they were looked down upon by all. The third faction was the faction of water and wind, or "Netherbird" as I used to call it. They were sometimes my allies and sometimes my most feared adversaries.

Finally we had the Order of the Fire Monks, which were a grand beauracratic faction, which did more talkin than fightin if you catch my drift. All this was of course inspired by old fantasy novels. Lovely fantasies.

Anyway, so about a year ago, at the last year of my fantasy, I was exiled from the Forces of Fire for having used unorthodox methods in trying to rid the world of ice, and so after a whole lotta intgrigues and plotting I switched sides!

THAT'S WHY LAST WINTER WAS SO FUCKED UP

adieu

Hello blogzie, what's the happyhaps?

Today is a grand day. Today I shall fix my computer by erasing EVERYTHING on it and do a full old-school system recovery!

Why? Partly because The Realm of BuRUscuREEn has declared war upon me, and partly because it feels so goddamn fresh afterwards. Hollow, but in a good way.

On to more pressing matters: I, under the influence of many men, have decided for a short stoppage of le bacon. You could say that I will become a Doublevegetarian (right, I became veggie during October, did I mention that?), if you catch my drift. And these three days during which I've yet has succumbed have been peculiar indeed. I mean even though I have been without bacon before, for several weeks even, it has always been because of shortage, either in funds or wares, but now.

I don't know.

Life lost quite a bit of its taste. But it's all good of course, since I know that one day, in the horizon, lies a beautiful green meadow where dreams may once again come true.

"Dreams of youth and simple truths
Now we're all so involved
So involved with life"       (Rush-Bastille Day)

But all is well in Micoland as harmony flows gently into the many peaceful rivers of sleep

October has been, of course, a rather special month for me and I feel I should really honour it somehow. Perhaps by picking a suitable band for it, eh? Yes of course, that's what I should do.

Alright so the tenth of October, twothousand and ten. 10.10.10. The day when the Micolan empire ventured into new and beautiful lands. That very day, and others after it, was made possible only by the hazy lyrics of God and Legend Neil Peart.

His atomous beats, his flawless pace as well as his lyrical genius were all that was needed for the red lands to open up below me, and I fell gently.

I warned the audience of Geddy's piercing voice. I feared that it would be far too risky, but alas, my fears were proven wrong, for Geddy took Peart's words and made them silver.

Silver> gold

Erik was the guy who first showed me Rush and then I played Tom Sawyer on Rockband. They were always this kinda band lying in the background, constantly making me aware of its existance and constantly begging for my undivided attention.

I saw the flick "I Love You, Man", and I fell in love with the band, immediately.

2112

Hemispheres

Counterparts

Those are the three albums I listened to without pausing, that lovely March day, walking across the plains of Micolust.

Rush, what a phenomenon.




"Everyone belongs to everyone else, eh? EVERYONE BELONGS TO ME!"







candidates: Neil Young/ Michael Jackson

Yo!

No time at all to leave a motivation as to why I chose this song; life is hectic atm, it's all this way that way, kinda.

Anyway, one of the greatest songs of all:





Candidates: Neil Young: Old Man/ Neil Young: Down by the River/ Neil Young: The Loner

Alright, now I'm alone at last, or you know, my dad's asleep.

However, I can sense the incessant button mashing and letter typing is causing severe distress to emerge among the maoris.

Anyway, so the dystopian story I posted yesteryesterday depicted the Kaunas Airport, or rather, the Kaunas Airport toilet. That gentle humming of the ventilation system still haunts me at night, man, talk about leaving an impression. Alright, so what happened next? (Imagine all this being read in an optimistic baritone voice, with a small touch of charming coersion)
Well, after finding out that our Rent-a-car service didn't exist, we went in our imaginary car (that was missing a gas pedal, by the way), to the hotel. Travel blog, here I come.

Alright, seriously though, I've been thinking some about time lately. Why? Because this country is retarded at keeping it. See, this sunday was "move clock back one hour" day, and so we did. Then of course, fucking Lithuania has to be +2 GTM, so we moved the tiem forwords. Now, the airport clocks were ALL showing different times, and not, mind you, in a Tokyo/Moscow/London/San Fransisco way, but in a fucking Vilnius/Vilnius/Vilnius way. And the motherfucking plane had to be half an hour early, so our frame of reference was fucked. Hotel clocks: all different as well of course. The car showing 11, the tv showing 10, the reception clock showing 12 and then  to the fucking lamp post clock showing 6:30! AND THEN THEY THOUGHT US RETARDED FOR ASKING WHAT TIME IT WAS WHEN WE WERE STANDING RIGHT BELOW A MISFUNCTIONING TIME TELLING MACHINE.

mah, I sense this post requires a Micolus to read, for it is my brain, defilterized.

So time pretty much disappeared yesterday. And it felt so liberating. I remember wishing, a couple of years back, that there should be clocks pretty much everywhere, so that one may never lose track of time. But then again, how could we have been so hubridal as to create a linear system for a cyclic phenomena. Time changes, both with culture and with seasons.

Life changes, yet we all seem to have a grand plan. I just wish I could rid my supervisors of the dreams about the social utopia and the societal ideal. For everyone, in their own pace and their own time, suffer as greatly and as deeply as everyone else. Everyone is subject to the laws of life.

Suffering nurtures the soul.

Jesus christ, I can't fucking think straight for one minute, being confined into this room under the constant scrutiny of paternal forces... Fuck! I had so much to write about, so much on my fucking mind..

It will melt away now, as I'm grinding my teeth in pure desperation.

Two minutes, that's the most time I've had to myself..

Temple of solitude, where are you

I entered through the wooden doors. Nothing deviated from the normal; nothing woke me up from my strolling slumber. I found myself standing in a vast grey room. As I turned my gaze upwards to the unveiled sky, I felt a hollow sensation creeping up on me. The walls, all clad in bitter mirrors, stared into my very soul and I fell down to my knees in humble defeat.

They were everywhere, the mirrors, positioned safely behind the comforting taps, pouring metallic water onto the cold steel ground.

I was in Kaunas Airport, Lithuania.

Let the trip begin.

adieu