Dec 18, 2009
Cotton Mouth
Something is fundamentally wrong about the state of alcoholic dehydration, manifested in the colloquial "cotton mouth", rearing its ugly head BEFORE I have gone to sleep. It's one thing as a hang-over symptom, but a pre-somatic consequence of imbibing? Fuck you; not cool.
Resurrection will be the death of innocence
So looking around this room I live in... One. Single. Room.
I notice that my home begins to look more like that of a crazed politico (not the kind that rallies for a candidate... the kind that shoots a candidate from the building across the street with a high powered rifle)
On my futon/bed alone currently there sits: a small pile of U.S. Army field blankets, a surge protector, a copy of "APOCALYPSE CULTURE" edited by Adam Parfrey, an air pistol, a pair of scissors, two empty beer cans, and a half empty bottle of whisky.
My life has become Le Samourai, without the... stylization.
My black Docs are muddy, scuffed, and finally broken in. I drink more often that I eat. I take my scotch with no ice, and less water. I've watched "Il Conformista" 5 times in a month. I want to kill.
My life has become a primal scream. I dress in clothes that would not look out of place at a gun show. I frequent gun shows. Looking for deals. On rifles.
I own more weapons than my entire county combined. I carry a combat knife in my boot. In my suburban neighborhood. I assess store clerks as potential violent threats.
I work in medicine. I save lives. I preserve the future of the youth, and keep the old from moving on. I want the old to die, and the youth to see through my disillusioned eyes. I feel that not one soul I see on any given day has any idea how fucked we are. How fucked this country is. How fucked the world is. How fucked humanity is. How fucked this state is. How fucked this city is. How fucked this neighborhood is. How fucking naive they all are.
I talk with co workers. And take my jokes one step over the line. I laugh, they stare.
I watch violent pornography and only the punching/kicking/slapping/spitting is worth my attention. Sex is not personal, it's nothing but biology. The only thing that makes fucking worth the physical exertion is the possibility of feel new sensations. Like chipping a tooth, or breaking a finger, or tearing a muscle. Sexuality is far less complicated than the blind romantic would have you believe. Love is chemical.
"I GRIND MY TEETH INTO FANGS"
My floor is covered in shit. Black shit. Dead matter. Dust. Clothes; I cover myself with shit.
"No one 'knows' anyone, ever. Not really."
I sedate myself with chemicals. Anti-psychotic-depressant-convulsant-anxiolytic-alcoholic chemicals. My blood:outside psychoactive agent ratio is 1:1. Cut me open and I would bleed white powdered pills.
Fuck you. Look what you've done. I've gone and written myself into a stink.
I notice that my home begins to look more like that of a crazed politico (not the kind that rallies for a candidate... the kind that shoots a candidate from the building across the street with a high powered rifle)
On my futon/bed alone currently there sits: a small pile of U.S. Army field blankets, a surge protector, a copy of "APOCALYPSE CULTURE" edited by Adam Parfrey, an air pistol, a pair of scissors, two empty beer cans, and a half empty bottle of whisky.
My life has become Le Samourai, without the... stylization.
My black Docs are muddy, scuffed, and finally broken in. I drink more often that I eat. I take my scotch with no ice, and less water. I've watched "Il Conformista" 5 times in a month. I want to kill.
My life has become a primal scream. I dress in clothes that would not look out of place at a gun show. I frequent gun shows. Looking for deals. On rifles.
I own more weapons than my entire county combined. I carry a combat knife in my boot. In my suburban neighborhood. I assess store clerks as potential violent threats.
I work in medicine. I save lives. I preserve the future of the youth, and keep the old from moving on. I want the old to die, and the youth to see through my disillusioned eyes. I feel that not one soul I see on any given day has any idea how fucked we are. How fucked this country is. How fucked the world is. How fucked humanity is. How fucked this state is. How fucked this city is. How fucked this neighborhood is. How fucking naive they all are.
I talk with co workers. And take my jokes one step over the line. I laugh, they stare.
I watch violent pornography and only the punching/kicking/slapping/spitting is worth my attention. Sex is not personal, it's nothing but biology. The only thing that makes fucking worth the physical exertion is the possibility of feel new sensations. Like chipping a tooth, or breaking a finger, or tearing a muscle. Sexuality is far less complicated than the blind romantic would have you believe. Love is chemical.
"I GRIND MY TEETH INTO FANGS"
My floor is covered in shit. Black shit. Dead matter. Dust. Clothes; I cover myself with shit.
"No one 'knows' anyone, ever. Not really."
I sedate myself with chemicals. Anti-psychotic-depressant-convulsant-anxiolytic-alcoholic chemicals. My blood:outside psychoactive agent ratio is 1:1. Cut me open and I would bleed white powdered pills.
Fuck you. Look what you've done. I've gone and written myself into a stink.
Jan 30, 2008
Sunset Boulevard
There are a few filmmakers in cinema history who I find truly inspiring. One among them has truly stood out in my mind recently: Kenneth Anger, patron saint of homosexual ritual magic avant-garde film world. If you aren't familiar, wikipedia has a decent primer. From there, Fantoma has two wonderful DVD sets containing all of Anger's primary work (as well as some unfinished stuff, such as Puce Moment, and Kustom Kar Kommandos)
Jan 21, 2008
Literature for the Handicapped
I parked like a mile away, because I didn't know where the fuck this place was relative to the one other building I have ever been inside. I already have decided to skip a fair amount of this class. That, or I'm going to act like a pretentious cock. Literature for the Handicapped 101, starring: Me. Ten minutes before the first session, and I've already passed judgment on every single person in the room. All sixty of them. The TA has a big head. One girl tripped, and almost fell twice between the time she came through the door, and then time she plopped her ass down in the theater style seat. She must be retarded or something.
The syllabus is not a homework assignment. The deluded goatee next to me has already marked with neon highlighter (thoroughly, mind you) the entire fucking thing... 'Nuff said?
Class begins, and after discussing the format of the class, the professor (who seems like she knits, a lot) asks if anyone has a favorite work of literature. One guy, wearing a Jhonen Vasquez tee shirt (What the fuck? Is this kid 13?) raises his hand and hollers "ENDER'S GAME!" The professor isn't familiar with Orson Scott Card. 7th grade science fiction. Good, but middle school, nonetheless. A douche bag in a tweed jacket (with a bit of a mullet... but not the trendy, hipster kind) says, in a really haughty voice, that his is "actually a poem, "Annabel Lee" by E.A. Poe", which the professor (THANK GOD) was, in fact, familiar with.
Then it happened.
Some moron, cunt, wearing a pink North Face parka, tight, sky blue jeans, and white Sketchers (White trash... with money?) said it.
"Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone!"
I almost vomited. It was the most ridiculous thing I'd heard yet. I wanted to scream. I immediately looked to the professor, with hopes that she would shoot this ignorant piece of shit down.
Much to my dismay, she not only accepted the answer, but decided to use it as a springboard to the next stage of the discussion... "What makes a work of literature timeless? What makes us feel the need to study it long after it is written."
HOLY CHRIST IN FUCKING HEAVEN. I AM SURROUNDED BY THE LOWEST FORMS OF LIFE. HARRY POTTER READERS WHO ARE OVER THE AGE OF 13.
The syllabus is not a homework assignment. The deluded goatee next to me has already marked with neon highlighter (thoroughly, mind you) the entire fucking thing... 'Nuff said?
Class begins, and after discussing the format of the class, the professor (who seems like she knits, a lot) asks if anyone has a favorite work of literature. One guy, wearing a Jhonen Vasquez tee shirt (What the fuck? Is this kid 13?) raises his hand and hollers "ENDER'S GAME!" The professor isn't familiar with Orson Scott Card. 7th grade science fiction. Good, but middle school, nonetheless. A douche bag in a tweed jacket (with a bit of a mullet... but not the trendy, hipster kind) says, in a really haughty voice, that his is "actually a poem, "Annabel Lee" by E.A. Poe", which the professor (THANK GOD) was, in fact, familiar with.
Then it happened.
Some moron, cunt, wearing a pink North Face parka, tight, sky blue jeans, and white Sketchers (White trash... with money?) said it.
"Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone!"
I almost vomited. It was the most ridiculous thing I'd heard yet. I wanted to scream. I immediately looked to the professor, with hopes that she would shoot this ignorant piece of shit down.
Much to my dismay, she not only accepted the answer, but decided to use it as a springboard to the next stage of the discussion... "What makes a work of literature timeless? What makes us feel the need to study it long after it is written."
HOLY CHRIST IN FUCKING HEAVEN. I AM SURROUNDED BY THE LOWEST FORMS OF LIFE. HARRY POTTER READERS WHO ARE OVER THE AGE OF 13.
Dec 11, 2007
Lazy. Sorry. PS. God, where did you go?
Okay, I'm a lazy fucking douchebag. I know. I haven't updated in forever. Guess what? This isn't an update. Life has been busy as hell, but it goes on.
As such, this is a repost of an entry concerning some of my thoughts on religion, written for another blog, long ago.
Enjoy. Hail Satan.
"I'll preface this by saying that I am an atheist. I have no interest in having faith myself, however, I am fascinated by the ability of others to accept or live by a system of religion. I consider myself fairly qualified to discuss this subject, having read the King James version of the Holy Bible, and the New Oxford Edition, both in their entirety, as well as a fair number of texts concerning theology, and faith, by scholars such as Wink, CS Lewis, etc.
I have a problem with religion. I'm specifically picking on Christianity here, I know, but that's simply because I know more about it than other faiths.
The biggest hypocrisy I see in following an indoctrinated religion is that they all ultimately are rooted in books written by men, and feature events and/or concepts that are intangible in the physical world. Also, it seems important to note that most religions that exist today are actually an amalgamated form of other faiths. The "Christ" myth has existed in the majority of pre-christian faiths (Ancient Egyptians had the resurrection of Osiris, the Greeks had their Christ in Apollo).
The necessity of an all emcompassing religion to explain terrible things occurring in the world, with almost no concrete basis can be traced back to the beginning of civilization. What I've never understood is how someone could sit there and say that Christianity is more "real" or "applicable" than, for instance, an "out of date" system like the Greek Mythologies, which I'm pretty sure most people write off as being unused. They serve the same purpose. They both contain elements of the supernatural, the likes of which haven't actually ever been seen by any practitioners of said faith, but rather are simply recounted by men, in a book.
Then you have the contradictions that are put forth in the Good Book. The old Testament basically sets life up so that I can do anything I want, beat my children, murder my wife, keep slaves, etc. and then justify it with a passage from the Bible (Leviticus for the most part). The majority of the first portion of the Bible sets forth ground-rules that read as a guide to surviving as a powerless unorganized group of twelve Jewish tribes struggling to even exist (ie. Not eating pork, which would have been hard to keep fresh, and healthy in the situation of the Israelites of Old Testament times)
I will admit that the New Testament offers some philosophical concepts that can be applied fairly well to co-exist with your fellow man, but it also seems to be so very contradictory to what the Old Testament, which was also placed in the Canon by the Ecumenical councils early on, seems to offer. It also seems worth noting that the ideas of compassion and fraternity offered by Christ in the Gospels specifically, are not exclusive to Christianity, but rather, most faiths.
My favorite contradiction? The Apocrypha. Why does it even exist? What mortal man is worthy of discrediting a book supposedly inspired by God? A politically minded one. That's who. What best benefits me, and my burgeoning new religion? These books that I(spoken from the perspective of the Ecumenical Councils) have chosen to include are the books that will keep me in power over the members of my organization (the soon to be church, Catholic specifically)
Religion is, in my opinion and experience, simply a sedative for the uneducated. If one cannot come to terms with the fact that the nature of humanity has resulted in horror, such as war or genocide, then it can simply be blamed on an invisible, intangible, unapproachable figure who encompasses all things evil (the "Devil"/"Satan"), because the believer has no understanding of the world around him. Religion has always existed solely to explain the inexplicable. In our modern age of realism and science, which can all be proved, in the physical world around us, I fail to see where there is room for a supernatural redeemer and creator, who also allows evil to exist, rooted so very deeply in his creation. If God is good, by definition, then why does the world work the way it does. If God made everything, and had the power to make it any way he wanted to, then why would he make it so living creatures would have to die for others to survive? Why would a benevolent creator allow his creation to run amuck as it has? This paradox, this inexplicable, often unaddressed, often suppressed question lies at the heart of my atheism. I see the God of Christianity as a Loki. A mischievous, naive, sadistic trickster, and as such, I prefer to live in a world where I accept what I see, and what can be explained without drawing on the improbable, or the imaginary.
"
As such, this is a repost of an entry concerning some of my thoughts on religion, written for another blog, long ago.
Enjoy. Hail Satan.
"I'll preface this by saying that I am an atheist. I have no interest in having faith myself, however, I am fascinated by the ability of others to accept or live by a system of religion. I consider myself fairly qualified to discuss this subject, having read the King James version of the Holy Bible, and the New Oxford Edition, both in their entirety, as well as a fair number of texts concerning theology, and faith, by scholars such as Wink, CS Lewis, etc.
I have a problem with religion. I'm specifically picking on Christianity here, I know, but that's simply because I know more about it than other faiths.
The biggest hypocrisy I see in following an indoctrinated religion is that they all ultimately are rooted in books written by men, and feature events and/or concepts that are intangible in the physical world. Also, it seems important to note that most religions that exist today are actually an amalgamated form of other faiths. The "Christ" myth has existed in the majority of pre-christian faiths (Ancient Egyptians had the resurrection of Osiris, the Greeks had their Christ in Apollo).
The necessity of an all emcompassing religion to explain terrible things occurring in the world, with almost no concrete basis can be traced back to the beginning of civilization. What I've never understood is how someone could sit there and say that Christianity is more "real" or "applicable" than, for instance, an "out of date" system like the Greek Mythologies, which I'm pretty sure most people write off as being unused. They serve the same purpose. They both contain elements of the supernatural, the likes of which haven't actually ever been seen by any practitioners of said faith, but rather are simply recounted by men, in a book.
Then you have the contradictions that are put forth in the Good Book. The old Testament basically sets life up so that I can do anything I want, beat my children, murder my wife, keep slaves, etc. and then justify it with a passage from the Bible (Leviticus for the most part). The majority of the first portion of the Bible sets forth ground-rules that read as a guide to surviving as a powerless unorganized group of twelve Jewish tribes struggling to even exist (ie. Not eating pork, which would have been hard to keep fresh, and healthy in the situation of the Israelites of Old Testament times)
I will admit that the New Testament offers some philosophical concepts that can be applied fairly well to co-exist with your fellow man, but it also seems to be so very contradictory to what the Old Testament, which was also placed in the Canon by the Ecumenical councils early on, seems to offer. It also seems worth noting that the ideas of compassion and fraternity offered by Christ in the Gospels specifically, are not exclusive to Christianity, but rather, most faiths.
My favorite contradiction? The Apocrypha. Why does it even exist? What mortal man is worthy of discrediting a book supposedly inspired by God? A politically minded one. That's who. What best benefits me, and my burgeoning new religion? These books that I(spoken from the perspective of the Ecumenical Councils) have chosen to include are the books that will keep me in power over the members of my organization (the soon to be church, Catholic specifically)
Religion is, in my opinion and experience, simply a sedative for the uneducated. If one cannot come to terms with the fact that the nature of humanity has resulted in horror, such as war or genocide, then it can simply be blamed on an invisible, intangible, unapproachable figure who encompasses all things evil (the "Devil"/"Satan"), because the believer has no understanding of the world around him. Religion has always existed solely to explain the inexplicable. In our modern age of realism and science, which can all be proved, in the physical world around us, I fail to see where there is room for a supernatural redeemer and creator, who also allows evil to exist, rooted so very deeply in his creation. If God is good, by definition, then why does the world work the way it does. If God made everything, and had the power to make it any way he wanted to, then why would he make it so living creatures would have to die for others to survive? Why would a benevolent creator allow his creation to run amuck as it has? This paradox, this inexplicable, often unaddressed, often suppressed question lies at the heart of my atheism. I see the God of Christianity as a Loki. A mischievous, naive, sadistic trickster, and as such, I prefer to live in a world where I accept what I see, and what can be explained without drawing on the improbable, or the imaginary.
"
Dec 2, 2007
Fuck!
Life is weird, man.
Just when I thought I was set in my ways, I get hit in the fucking nose with the ultimate curveball, and I really don't mind.
In fact, it's pretty cool.
Just when I thought I was set in my ways, I get hit in the fucking nose with the ultimate curveball, and I really don't mind.
In fact, it's pretty cool.
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