.... again ....

Generous Dreamer

Which File Extension are You?


Which OS are You?

the flood

these are the lyrics to one of my favourite songs ever, the flood (die flut) by rammstein feat. witt/heppner. the lyrics are originally in german, they sound better like that, but i've also translated them in english. there is hardly a song among my favourites that i am not in love with the lyrics.

the flood

when i can’t feel any peace inside,
bitterness floods my dark heart,
i just wait for the next day that dawns on me.
when darkness shrouds clear vision,
no sense quenches the longing,
then i call forth the one dream, that never comes true

and you cry into the night and you pray for wonderstrength
for a better world to live in but there won’t be another

when comes the flood, when comes the flood over me?
when comes the flood, when comes the flood that touches me?
when comes the flood, when comes the flood that takes me away?
in another grand life, somewhere...

all the time, quickly passing by
blows away each trace of me like dust
unendingly far away, with an invisible hand;
isn’t there in the cold skies
a star that burns only for me
a dim light, ike a fire in the night, that never fades

and you look up to the heavens, curse the stubborn course of time,
build yourself a world of illusions but there won’t be another.

when comes the flood, when comes the flood over me?
when comes the flood, when comes the flood that touches me?
when comes the flood, when comes the flood that takes me away?
in another grand life, somewhere...

and you cry into the world that you don’t like it any more,
you want to live a better one but there won’t be another.

die flut

wenn ich in mir keine ruhe fühl,
bitterkeit mein dunkles herz umspühlt,
ich nur warte auf den nächsten tag, der mir erwacht.
wenn finsternis den klaren blck verhüllt,
kein sinn mehr eine sehnsucht stillt,
ruf ich mir herbei den einen traum,der sich niemals erfüllt.

und du rufst in die nacht und du flehst um wundermacht,
um ne bessre welt zum leben, doch es wird keine andre geben.

wann kommt die flut, wann kommt die flut über mich?
wann kommt die flut, wann kommt die flut die mich berührt.
wann kommt die flut, wann kommt die flut die mich mitfortnimmt,
in ein andres großes leben  irgendwo.

all die zeit, die schnell vorüberzieht,
jede spur von mir wie staub zerfegt,
endlos weit getrieben, von unsichtbsrer hand;
gibt es dort, am kalten firmament,
nicht auch den stern, der nur für mich verbrennt,
ein dumpfes leuchten, wie ein feuer in der nacht, das nie vergeht.

und du siehst zum himmel auf fluchst auf den sturen zeitenlauf,
machst dir ne welt aus trug und schein, doch es wird keine andre sein.

wann kommt die flut, wann kommt die flut über mich?
wann kommt die flut, wann kommt die flut die mich berührt.
wann kommt die flut, wann kommt die flut die mich mitfortnimmt,
in ein andres großes lebe irgendwo.

und du rufst in die welt, das sie dir nicht mehr gefällt,
du willst ne schönere erlebe, doch es wird keine andre geben.

bittersweet

am feeling bittersweet. and i feel like i aged prematurely. somewhere in the middle of my childhood something tore; someone pressed skip/fast forward and i feel at least twice my age.

i am just standing ashore, watching the tumult of life. of others' life. it's less and less often that i get carried away by the flood. and i have that smile upon my face that absolutely sucks to be seen. a sad, know-it-all smile. like an old arthritic dog watching pups play.

not even insolence and sheer stupidity gets to me quite the way it used to (and in case you wanna object, yeah i know i sound like an arrogant piece of shit, and yeah, i know i just used offensive language, if you don't like it just navigate away - the net is far, the net is wide). i get a bit upset, but realise there's no point. except from killing off a few neurons... nothing changes so why bother. so i just smile condescendingly again.

i once started off carving a wonderful monument statue in my head. glorifying people. i thought i was on to something. i thought i could see something in people. something good that lay hidden, but that could be brought out. i went out with the 'smile, and the world will smile with you' attitude. and... well, i hit rock bottom. the sad fate of idealists (to be read: idiots) everywhere. yeah, i suppose those are the people that give the world the occasional kick in the ass to move forward. but considering the price to pay, anyone who does, from a mercantilistic point of view is naught but a complete idiot.

so i started carving down. chopped off the marmor, adjusted my statue to fit reality. am left with a mould of clay now. oh, there still are people out there i love, appreciate, respect, admire. it's just that... i don't believe in apples without worms anymore. so i am getting ready to see a worm peak out of my precious apples. at least it won't catch me by surprise again. hope not, despair not, i guess. i've cut off love, trust, friendship, loyalty, honesty, generosity. eventually, they fall. it's not that i rise to the standards. no way. but it was nice having something to look up to and to look forward to. over the past coupleof years i've seen more relationships crumble than i know people. and i've seen such pettiness and such low malice and mischief. for what? no fucking idea.

i can't help assuming this demi-god attitude when i look at all that. i can't help realising that all those things mean Nothing. with a capital N. so all i can do is take my bitterness off the stage and leave the spotlight to those who enjoy bathing in it. in it and in dirt equally. and just smile upon them condescendingly. bittersweet.

ps: artwork by angelreich on deviantart.com

the doors of perception

the aldous huxley writing. it seldom happens to me that i would go recommend something, be it music, movie or book. i do now. go read it. i'll save you the trouble, even. you can find it here. it's only 23 pages and it's not the kind of reading that would cause an indigestion.

it's well worth the trouble, i'd say. i am not a fan of reading social or philosophical theories and i am well aware that i've had lousy teachers in the field. a wooden language will never ever entice anyone to read, study or devote time to those kind of writings. i wish they understood that. i wish they didn't try to awake awe of their petty greatness by hiding behind words. you use grand words to clad your idea only when it's not worth the consideration as such. and here i go thinking it was all about the what that should strike you, and not the swallowing of the dictionary that should impress. ah, well.

back to the doors then. it details huxley's experiment with mescaline, with excursions into philosophical, theological, psychological, sociological, philological and other -logical (perfectly conscious and intended word play here) backgrounds to help (himself and the reader) understand the nature and the impact of the altered states of consciousness that mescaline triggered. however those logicals remain perfectly understandable even if you are not the proud owner of three oxford degrees, which i find is a merit of an essay of this nature.

it's the kind of thing that makes you want to say "damn, this guy is right" and not feeling a complete moron saying it.

trolls

don't you love it when a word has two meanings? i do. i love playing with words and those with two meanings are an especially delightful toy. however, at times, moral dilemmas arise for me, as illustrated below. the word in question is troll.

trolls are originally beings of scandinavian myth and folklore, eagerly adopted by modern fantasy arts - literature, painting, movies, games: you name it. now the image i have of a troll is of a big, ugly, brawny, sturdy creature, of considerable strength and poor intellect. some may argue trolls are intelligent enough. i'd say they are rather cunning, but lack intelligence. they rely on brute force (for what else those clubs in their hands?) rather than quick thinking. the type that would easily blast their way through walls instead of losing time opening the door, if you get my point.

now, the second meaning of the word troll is that familiar to the somewhat skilled internaut: the one the mighty wikipedia defines as "someone who comes into an established community such as an online discussion forum, and posts inflammatory, rude or offensive messages designed intentionally to annoy and antagonize the existing members or disrupt the flow of discussion".

as a moderator of an internet forum, i am bound to have the one or other opposant. comes with the job. but no, i am one of those fortunate enough to have my personal retinue: i am 'blessed' with a troll. he is like a faithful pet: follows me around all topics and threads, replies to my messages, even if three other pages have been posted since it, with no hint of contributing to the discussion in any way, throwing what he probably considers subtle and pointed arrows.

usually i am past the point of annoyance and just laugh at his pathetic tries to get attention. mostly, i keep strictly to the 'don't feed the troll' direction, as i know is the safest thing to do. and it gives me the satisfaction of seing him inflate like a balloon fish in vain. at times, however, i do feel compelled to reply, since some of his posts are not only 'insulting' (though he is not important enough to be insulted by), but sheer lies that i can't feel i can let pass. and that of course, triggers responses.

coming to my dilemma now: i should probably just let the troll starve to death. but: i am a member of an animal welfare organisation. it goes not only against my every moral standard, but also against my status as such to subject animals to bad treatments.

the question now is: is a troll to be considered an animal? or does he qualify as half-way human and his feeding should thus not be any of my concern? need or need i not have processes of conscience regarding this issue? please, o thou wise reader, enlighten me.

ps: artwork from elfwood.com