God is a whore
..and now I'm fucking late for my football game on top of everything
Yep, this was actually going to be a good day.
Truthsayers
Ahh... what a great feeling it is to return to this place. Time and negligence has rendered it barren and cold, but even in these wicked times, a master is not denied a walk in his dying domains.
As I said to the man who goes by no name, and yet exists in dozens: "The soul's journey is indeed one, which we cannot foresee or tame; the soul must walk its own path and sing in tongues, new to its master's ear."
Whatever right.
I shan't bore you to death with thoughts too sensitive to be spoken clearly, for there is in fact no clear way to speak of them anyway - I suppose my heathen craving for attention - and in the end conversion - is reason enough.
These words mean nothing - nor does the person writing them, nor the person reading them.
And yet they do - so much.
and so little.
And so at last, when the colours of life have been spilled on the wasteland carpet of grey below, we must consider the single tear: the currency of what could have been, the price of failed dreams
And the only thing worth living for...
Tears and artificial laughter - and of course, the utter belief in truth
bimbo - limbo
Yes Yes.
This is becoming more and more of a journal of hazed evenings, I know, and I apologize. I guess the pressure from the four unknowns reading this horseshit is too much for me to handle. If that were the case, it'd be sad anyway... --
But I've not returned from weeks of travel just to talk about the "talking about", and so I'll cut to the chase. Damn, the English language is literally stuffed with clichés. So much so that even the word "cliché" is becoming useless. --
- Right, so it's about ten am, and I'm feeling rather low. Before me towers a grand glass of juice, of which I'm frequently taking sips, and a black pencil of disciplin, lying accusingly and barely visibly on the table. There is no real headache worth mentioning and my stomach's just fine. Yet I cannot stop myself from contemplating the choices of the past evening.
----
I grab the deck of cards on the shelf above me, only to put it back down on my lovely Erling illustrated book, as visions slowly return to me.
---
There was this dog, a beautiful dog, with whom I bonded. I transcended beyond mere definitions of species and gender, beyond life or death, just to exist... for once. I believe the dog/dogline bore the name "Niko" (or at least some kind of slavic name), it being a rather small, incredibly smooth furred brownwhite Spaniel of some sort, the name clashed terribly with the Self. I could feel how my lovely little Niko trembled before my growing intoxication. I could feel him literally hate what I had become, a grotesque monster of well-being, a giant caricature of failed superficiality.
- Burp.
---
Of course, Niko was not the only slav at the party, if I put it like that, and he was the far less prominent one. This other nameless slav stirred up some mighty shit. If I was the caricature, then he was the fucking disaster. Between shouting Scottish curses and harrassing people for their heritage, he actually managed to party as well. Though I cannot for my life consider him a bad person. Lost, perhaps. Confused. But not bad... What does that even mean, "bad". A while back I made an attempt of clarifying the concept of evil, and while it needs more work, I think it will show you the general thoughtlines within my Cognium: "Evil is our way of describing a negative (i.e causing mental or physical pain) social or moral deviation , which we ourselves cannot fathom" From this, it is obvious that the concept of evil varies greatly among different people, but even so within the single person. Evil is also very often used as a means or a licence to do harm (act in vengeance), which makes us incredibly more biased when assessing someone's evility.
---
Which brings me to hate. I think my hate has never been as strong as in this very moment.
---
I also think that I'm very much lying right now, for I too have been stung with the sword of heaven's betrayal, and this right here is just an earthly sparring gone out of hand. Yet my hate is real.
---
I wandered from the distant town, through the icy plains, to my beloved home in Rûd.
--
Why can't I accept things. Distractions distract me, as visions pollute me.,
excerpt from a toked diary
Orange.
The flickering lights are always orange. As are the trees in the sky, shining brightly over the Ogglish castles. Yet no one abides to the rule of the orange master, lest they themselves choose thusly.
Marabou-Orange.
Msn-Orange.
Two powerful beings within their own centra, but release them upon one another, and one shall experience the death of time. For who is to say that Marabou-Orange isn’t the tastiest and most lustful of mistresses, constantly making its humble servants go “mmmmmmmmmm”, afterwhich they chant the name of their Goddess of Chocolate.
wat
Birthday exceptions - lawyers win by an inch
The first man to walk the earth, was also the first philosopher, contemplating matters long beyond his own realm.
A society built on shivering pillars of rusting metal. No one knows for sure whether it would hold much longer. Everything falls apart... but slowly
Cinematicae MMXI
Like Childhood it tastes!
[yesterday's post was raggety... I'm sure you know why]
you
pick me up - put me down - push me in - turn me round
switch me on - let me go
I have a mind of my own
One beautiful song fsho
pick me up - push me down
Together, walking towards a predestined goal, surrounded by a crowd, in which I'm nothing. In a scene, where I am but part of the set, and my presence a mere shade upon the greatness of their minds.
Surrounded by men of the second stage, those who strayed from the social mass, and those who unknowingly forged their own twisted replica of a society, with its own twisted rules.
Twisted, only in the eyes of the majority of man.
However, a society remains a society no matter how deformed and disfigured. These men attributed the final light to a goddamn light bulb. These men pulled their fucking heads out of their minds too early, and imprisoned themselves in a haven of moral superiority and social magic.
They managed to beat the mere majority. Fooled by its plentied followers they thought the majority of man to be a powerful foe, where as they are in reality a foe not even worth its name.
Among the herds I can walk. Among the herds I can find peace, perhaps not amusment or fulfilment, but harmony at least.
I have no interest in joining a fucking animalistic alpha male fight for who's got the greater mind. For to enforce dominion over a rival mind is as much imprisonment as is being the Omega.
The price of the game needs be paid by all members. Even those who in their money grabbing ways sought to escape it.
This is some hard core bullshit. Bullshit only certain things in life can redeem.
Certain very beautiful things. As the peaceful exchange of the (real)deviant mind with a kin of the mind.
(sorry for the text bing all squished up... this blog does that sometimes....piece o shit)
Jimilands and Zeppelin heights
Fade away. Fade away, vanish into smooke...
Troubled by the age of four
your latest missions have only accomplished thus much. You must realize that all that has been ceases to be, and that the road ahead,
cloaked in a scent of pleasure, is the road that you must undertake. No sidetracks.
As I'm writing I feel the presence of children. Children amongst men. Infants amongst elders. Those, whose minds are but soulless slaves to
the physical might of the trembling male body. However charming that might sound, I feel as if though the radio is set to an alien
frequency.
Long time, no sea; for nowhere in my latter life has ocean water engulfed my unworthy self.
Unworthy. Is that the word I'm looking for? Unworthy to tread into the beautiful mind; to tread through heaven's threshold. Is that the
price for honesty? Is that the price for letting both material and mental wealth become public domain?
Public domain, because it essentially derives from nature?
I wonder. Since a product, however materialistic its uses, is not only consisting of natural minerals from mother earth, but is also an idea. Ideas are mother nature's spiritual currency, whilst raw material remains its physical.
Speaking of such things: Where the fuck is my Physical Grafitti. I swear I know where it's hiding. Come out and play, eh?
On further notes, a VERY good film was consumed. So good, in fact, that I've decided to put some away for a future day, sometime after May when there's simply nothing left to say but good night and good day.
... Fade away. Fade away, break the crystal boooooOOOOOOOWL YAH
It's the SIIIGN
Troubled by the age of four
your latest missions have only accomplished thus much. You must realize that all that has been ceases to be, and that the road ahead,
cloaked in a scent of pleasure, is the road that you must undertake. No sidetracks.
As I'm writing I feel the presence of children. Children amongst men. Infants amongst elders. Those, whose minds are but soulless slaves to
the physical might of the trembling male body. However charming that might sound, I feel as if though the radio is set to an alien
frequency.
Long time, no sea; for nowhere in my latter life has ocean water engulfed my unworthy self.
Unworthy. Is that the word I'm looking for? Unworthy to tread into the beautiful mind; to tread through heaven's threshold. Is that the
price for honesty? Is that the price for letting both material and mental wealth become public domain?
Public domain, because it essentially derives from nature?
I wonder. Since a product, however materialistic its uses, is not only consisting of natural minerals from mother earth, but is also an idea. Ideas are mother nature's spiritual currency, whilst raw material remains its physical.
Speaking of such things: Where the fuck is my Physical Grafitti. I swear I know where it's hiding. Come out and play, eh?
On further notes, a VERY good film was consumed. So good, in fact, that I've decided to put some away for a future day, sometime after May when there's simply nothing left to say but good night and good day.
... Fade away. Fade away, break the crystal boooooOOOOOOOWL YAH
It's the SIIIGN
A year of mischief! 201101010101100011000010 Binarily fucked
Fellers of the Ruins of Micodust! Listen up, for there is still some juice in my nerves to carry on this epic rant.
I never thought a year could have as much character as this one. I saw the cycle of the year as just some petty celebration honoring the alcoholic trixters of old, but I see more clearly now.
I don't want to sit here and write; it''s not my place right now. My place is to wither. To fade away for a while. To accumulate cultural wealth and to lie down on my grand throne of solitude.
This year, this 2010, showed me that all are one. It showed me that rocks are made to roll. It showed me how to listen very hard, so as to hear the tune. It showed me how to do silly Led Zeppelin allusions in my blog posts.
In all seriousness though, this is far too big and mind boggling to be settled in an open blog site, or even to be transcribed into words. You drugs of life exist only to make the dream a certainty and the motivation optimal.
You exist not for your taste, your intoxication or your alteration. You exist solely to keep the working man a working man, and to benefit the slavery of man's mind.
The safety instinct is the sole reason for our downfall. Our wretched adaptivity. Curses.
I'm pretty dozed at the moment. I shouldn't embarass myself further.
I love some of you guys out there... i really think i do.
A year of blogz; a year of misery; a year of laughter, and a year of apathy.
"Nooobody needs to discover me!"
Tresspass(1970) by Genesis is among the best albums ever made imo.
I never thought a year could have as much character as this one. I saw the cycle of the year as just some petty celebration honoring the alcoholic trixters of old, but I see more clearly now.
I don't want to sit here and write; it''s not my place right now. My place is to wither. To fade away for a while. To accumulate cultural wealth and to lie down on my grand throne of solitude.
This year, this 2010, showed me that all are one. It showed me that rocks are made to roll. It showed me how to listen very hard, so as to hear the tune. It showed me how to do silly Led Zeppelin allusions in my blog posts.
In all seriousness though, this is far too big and mind boggling to be settled in an open blog site, or even to be transcribed into words. You drugs of life exist only to make the dream a certainty and the motivation optimal.
You exist not for your taste, your intoxication or your alteration. You exist solely to keep the working man a working man, and to benefit the slavery of man's mind.
The safety instinct is the sole reason for our downfall. Our wretched adaptivity. Curses.
I'm pretty dozed at the moment. I shouldn't embarass myself further.
I love some of you guys out there... i really think i do.
A year of blogz; a year of misery; a year of laughter, and a year of apathy.
"Nooobody needs to discover me!"
Tresspass(1970) by Genesis is among the best albums ever made imo.
Christmas in Bhang Country
2112
Two years remain.
Aight, so this shit be aight.
A plague has infected the lands; a plague only Goddess Sativa can cure
Aight, so this shit be aight.
A plague has infected the lands; a plague only Goddess Sativa can cure
lobster cooperative
"Keep on nagging woman"
Kinky kinks escort me through waves of Karty Konfusion. Christmas days appear like love from dissilusion, and birthed out of its velvet womb, a knight so bright insists on fighting to death.
This unprecedented pretence performed by predescessors of a peculiar world, as if pretending to procreate with great precaution causing the presense of pretext to morph into the premis of this perscription.
Hoix
He plucked the milky leaves out of its mother earth and studied it. It served exhibit by my dirtied windows gazing out on the dirtied streets. He defiled it and violated, for he fancied it far too much to let it slip. But worlds of dirtied windows and dirtied streets are cruel indeed.
Fellers
Kinky kinks escort me through waves of Karty Konfusion. Christmas days appear like love from dissilusion, and birthed out of its velvet womb, a knight so bright insists on fighting to death.
This unprecedented pretence performed by predescessors of a peculiar world, as if pretending to procreate with great precaution causing the presense of pretext to morph into the premis of this perscription.
Hoix
He plucked the milky leaves out of its mother earth and studied it. It served exhibit by my dirtied windows gazing out on the dirtied streets. He defiled it and violated, for he fancied it far too much to let it slip. But worlds of dirtied windows and dirtied streets are cruel indeed.
Fellers
dust
Pressed - to the point where resisting becomes utterly futile by my own mind, I carry on this two faced life; this life of showcasing and smiling, all the while restricting the tremendous maelstrom within me; this endless war on society and its feeble demagogues, seemingly endless in numbers.
For too long has this war raged and ravaged what once was such a peaceful land. For too long have I fought on both sides.
But there is no turning back now,eh. The sativian mind will assist me, I'm sure, but what if it is not enough?
All I want, is to become one with The Tree, so that all the petty conflicts within me can dissolve into nothingness.
Aw, the little boy is disillusioned, what a shame. Well, what did you expect when playing with the waves, huh?
Anywho. The mountain of fucking work that is school, is calling for me with its oh so deceptive voice. Sirene song. They promised us leisure, didn't they? I don't know, I'm too dried out to even care.
I blame my parents for not saving me. For I am far too receptible to their fucking bullshit.
For too long has this war raged and ravaged what once was such a peaceful land. For too long have I fought on both sides.
But there is no turning back now,eh. The sativian mind will assist me, I'm sure, but what if it is not enough?
All I want, is to become one with The Tree, so that all the petty conflicts within me can dissolve into nothingness.
Aw, the little boy is disillusioned, what a shame. Well, what did you expect when playing with the waves, huh?
Anywho. The mountain of fucking work that is school, is calling for me with its oh so deceptive voice. Sirene song. They promised us leisure, didn't they? I don't know, I'm too dried out to even care.
I blame my parents for not saving me. For I am far too receptible to their fucking bullshit.
Beautiful, is it not?
d-man
Well Well..
I guess that's all one can say really. A man who has seen dungen is a rich man indeed. And rich men tend to fall into the depressive depths of stagnation..
well well
I guess that's all one can say really. A man who has seen dungen is a rich man indeed. And rich men tend to fall into the depressive depths of stagnation..
well well
D to the -
Friends and foes of the Empire! Listen up! For today is not a day like any other, nay, it is a day bestowed upon us by the very Gods above. It is a day birthed out of hazed Mario Karting and Led Zeppelin 1. It is a day birthed out of the wishes of the yestermonth. It is a day, perhaps just like any other, yet I can't help but feel the glowing inside of me. Today, I'm going to see Dungen. Hell to the yes.
Great Bhang received shall accompany me through the hardships of apathy.
Can of Laughter, laughing away my life, as if it belonged to them. And I can't help but pushing them away, I don't know why, I just need to.
"Who be the one steppin in the rooom
Everybody puff at the Temple of Boom"
Great Bhang received shall accompany me through the hardships of apathy.
Can of Laughter, laughing away my life, as if it belonged to them. And I can't help but pushing them away, I don't know why, I just need to.
"Who be the one steppin in the rooom
Everybody puff at the Temple of Boom"
a pint or two will more than do
Also, I thought it necessary to add acouple of things. Ironically (God I always think of Iron Maiden when I see the word "Ironical"... Pisses me off) enough my auntie just asked me: "little feller, have you ever been victim to severe anxiety?" When I didn't answer her, finding the activities on the telly much more entangling, she proceeded on to ask me of any tips I may or may not have as to what can be done about said anxiety. I laughed heartily, as I imagined myself telling her of a certain thing or two.
Yes it was delicious indeed.
Anywho, so she continued her monologue by talking about how a lot of people are suffering from it in Sweden especially during the cold days of winter. I carefully ignored her and went upstairs to write this.
Now my conclusions from this were rather tasty. I was reassured in my old waven belief and also in that that people in general are miserable. Trivia is hell, unless you're too stupid to realize how hellish it is. Hypo-what?
CRITICAL
Anyway, so I say to all you well-to-do:ers out there, with your TV:s and your games and your jobs and your kids and your animals and your trips abroad and your gambling and your drinking and your reading and your excessive use of sugar and your fast foods and your walks and your partying and your sex to go fuck yourselves. I chose my path as wisely as I could, seing as I'm a man of thought, and you should chose yours just as wisely, and just as fitting to the person you are. But promise me this, and this only: Don't let the society of man stand in your way. And don't, by any means, refrain from using soma given to you by society (Tv,alcohol,party) for the mere cause of rebellion, that won't do.
Be true niggaz
delicious
Yes it was delicious indeed.
Anywho, so she continued her monologue by talking about how a lot of people are suffering from it in Sweden especially during the cold days of winter. I carefully ignored her and went upstairs to write this.
Now my conclusions from this were rather tasty. I was reassured in my old waven belief and also in that that people in general are miserable. Trivia is hell, unless you're too stupid to realize how hellish it is. Hypo-what?
CRITICAL
Anyway, so I say to all you well-to-do:ers out there, with your TV:s and your games and your jobs and your kids and your animals and your trips abroad and your gambling and your drinking and your reading and your excessive use of sugar and your fast foods and your walks and your partying and your sex to go fuck yourselves. I chose my path as wisely as I could, seing as I'm a man of thought, and you should chose yours just as wisely, and just as fitting to the person you are. But promise me this, and this only: Don't let the society of man stand in your way. And don't, by any means, refrain from using soma given to you by society (Tv,alcohol,party) for the mere cause of rebellion, that won't do.
Be true niggaz
delicious
Bhang, bangue, charas, ma
Still sitting with the door opened, God knows how long it's been now. What am I doing? Those three condescending words keep appearing before me like some sort of cosmic ad, paving its neon path inside my head. The goal, the mission, the duty? Harmony, nothingness and numbness.
Inner completion along with inner satisfaction.
Yet we continue to fucking deprive ourselves of this harmony by going along with this society of cynicism and suffering that we all cherish and praise. This lovely hell of ours tells us that disharmony is the cure. Work, not for the Self, but for the higher power.
Your reward? Acceptance, love but most important of all: Validation.
Because we are so FUCKING FED with the conviction that Society holds life's greatest secrets and is the most trust worthy entity in the world; that it is some utopian concoction of moral will to do well, thus making it the highest authority. Yes, school, yes municipality, yes state and yes world, you ought to be trusted with my life, for I am not unique, no, THERE ARE 6.7 BILLIONS OF ME OUT THERE, ISN'T IT FUCKING SO.
Great job, you succeeded, you created chaos in my once so peaceful lands. Your seeds are sown within me and only help from the outside can protect me now.
For now that I've found my path back to harmony, there is nothing you can do.
fuck you..
Inner completion along with inner satisfaction.
Yet we continue to fucking deprive ourselves of this harmony by going along with this society of cynicism and suffering that we all cherish and praise. This lovely hell of ours tells us that disharmony is the cure. Work, not for the Self, but for the higher power.
Your reward? Acceptance, love but most important of all: Validation.
Because we are so FUCKING FED with the conviction that Society holds life's greatest secrets and is the most trust worthy entity in the world; that it is some utopian concoction of moral will to do well, thus making it the highest authority. Yes, school, yes municipality, yes state and yes world, you ought to be trusted with my life, for I am not unique, no, THERE ARE 6.7 BILLIONS OF ME OUT THERE, ISN'T IT FUCKING SO.
Great job, you succeeded, you created chaos in my once so peaceful lands. Your seeds are sown within me and only help from the outside can protect me now.
For now that I've found my path back to harmony, there is nothing you can do.
fuck you..
Payday
What am I doing?
Yes, well, I suppose that's a valid question after all. What the fuck is going on. I'm sitting on my rather uncomfortable chair with the door opened just waiting for something to happen. Hah. The door is opened, and I ask myself why?
My aunt is nearby, walking around, moaning and groaning miserably. God, it's as if its contagious, that shit. I can't bare listening to all those dried out fucking grunts of pain and anxiety. She calls for me, repeatedly. I remain silent, the only sound reaching her ears being the mechanical noice coming from me tapping this keyboard. Yet my door remains open.
Two meters, that's all it takes, get up, go up to the door and close it. But I don't want to. I cringe at the very idea.
I haven't been out today, you know, xcept for the usual school duties. Duties.
And I do need to visit the restroom, ta taah, for I'm a crazed wicked colonial man, interested in thine fine wares, maha, and by wares I mean yer children. I'm too bored to laugh out of boredom.
But it is as it should be. A pile of homework awaits in the horizon.
What the fuck ever, what am I whining about, tomorrows payday
Yes, well, I suppose that's a valid question after all. What the fuck is going on. I'm sitting on my rather uncomfortable chair with the door opened just waiting for something to happen. Hah. The door is opened, and I ask myself why?
My aunt is nearby, walking around, moaning and groaning miserably. God, it's as if its contagious, that shit. I can't bare listening to all those dried out fucking grunts of pain and anxiety. She calls for me, repeatedly. I remain silent, the only sound reaching her ears being the mechanical noice coming from me tapping this keyboard. Yet my door remains open.
Two meters, that's all it takes, get up, go up to the door and close it. But I don't want to. I cringe at the very idea.
I haven't been out today, you know, xcept for the usual school duties. Duties.
And I do need to visit the restroom, ta taah, for I'm a crazed wicked colonial man, interested in thine fine wares, maha, and by wares I mean yer children. I'm too bored to laugh out of boredom.
But it is as it should be. A pile of homework awaits in the horizon.
What the fuck ever, what am I whining about, tomorrows payday
Quirk
I watch them dirty niggez step out the roof, bulletproof!
Henchmen of olden thoughts arrive at dawn to wake me up. From their dazed past they call upon me, requesting that I too shall walk their crimson pathway.
Through the velvet vestibule a man steps forth so bright. To sing a song of golden halls and journeys in the night.
Hello friends, life's treatin me real well, except for the fact that Lovely Maiden races towards me, what with me spending up all my lifen coins. The currency of life, the youth, the curiosity, the life lust.
The lust to do sin. The craving for pleasure. The numbing of the senses.
Indeed, the gift given to us is fragile and it shall not withstand the agony of apathy.
Henchmen of olden thoughts arrive at dawn to wake me up. From their dazed past they call upon me, requesting that I too shall walk their crimson pathway.
Through the velvet vestibule a man steps forth so bright. To sing a song of golden halls and journeys in the night.
Hello friends, life's treatin me real well, except for the fact that Lovely Maiden races towards me, what with me spending up all my lifen coins. The currency of life, the youth, the curiosity, the life lust.
The lust to do sin. The craving for pleasure. The numbing of the senses.
Indeed, the gift given to us is fragile and it shall not withstand the agony of apathy.
