black and blue again

that's a dave gahan song. i meant to write a post entitled 'blue again' and the song just came to my mind. it has nothing to do with the actual contents. neither had blue again, but hey, indulge me, i need a title.

i've been chewing on this post long enough to bite my teeth out on it and i still find the thing hard to swallow. whenever the subject comes out in one guise or other, my blood just instantly starts to boil. of course i am only harming myself, it's not like i don't know that. but how the hell can i help it?

i'm talking about the marvellous issue of money. fuck, people, wake up. you're not all about your bank account. well, some of you are, agreed, and i feel mighty sad for you. you're a pitiable sight. and you are sub-human. and i walk a mile around you if i can. i don't do talks with mere golems when i can help it. cause that's what you are when your most striking feature is your money. or noticing other's money. or valueing everything up in money. or thinking that your fucked up money can buy you everything and everyone. and - even worse - thinking that everyone else's world revolves around (your) money.

so would please just fuck off out of my life? i have too preciously little time to be wasted on slimes like you. i don't care what car you drive, i don't care whether your mobile has the value of an appartment, i don't care where in the world you had your holiday and in what hotel you stayed, i don't care where you intend to buy your next piece of land, i don't care in what restaurants you dine. and least of all do i care how many chicks you screwed 'cause they wanted your fucking money. honestly. so please give me a break. go rattle to someone who does care. who knows, they might even be impressed.

and most and i mean most of all: fuck the hell off with your idea that everyone else is like you and the whores you get laid with. stop trying to feed me your shit, cause i'm not buying it. the moment i'm convinced that every one in this world only cares about assets, having them, getting them and flaunting them in people's faces, i make the solemn promise to hang myself. until them, do fuck off from around me. you pester the air that i breathe.

actually, i think i got the title wrong. i can't even let it bring me down. i'm not spiritually evolved enough to feel only sadness and pity for the nothingness you are. presently, it just enrages me that you dare lift up your eyes.

.... again ....

Generous Dreamer

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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

highway to hell... of some sort or another

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished me to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis! Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Moderate
Level 2 (Lustful)	Moderate
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Low
Schizoid:	Moderate
Schizotypal:	Moderate
Antisocial:	Low
Borderline:	Low
Histrionic:	Low
Narcissistic:	Low
Avoidant:	High
Dependent:	Low
Obsessive-Compulsive:	Moderate
-- Personality Disorder Test -- -- Personality Disorder Information --

fear the path to the dark side is...

i'm two steps away from the dark side. fear the path to the dark side is. fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to the dark side. i am in the anger phase. just like a venomous snake has a pouch of poison that keeps itself supplied, ready for the next and next time the snake will choose to strike - whether in attack or defense - i seem to have a self-refilling reserve of anger.

and i just realised its coming from fear. a fear so deep and concealed, and perhaps so part of my (first or second) nature, that its direct connection to my occasional outburst of anger mostly eludes me. but outbursts just turn themselves into yet another source of fear.

i find outlets. otherwise it'd just pile inside of me until it poisoned my mind beyond my bearing point. the other choice is letting it off on others, which i resent. and while i mostly consider my anger justified (which is a presumably a thing that all tyrants do), i do not like it. i'm a control freak. i don't want my anger controlling me, my thoughts, my words, my actions. i resent it as much as any other thing i cannot control.

losing control does not feel safe, thus it is to be feared. the satisfaction of beating the odds, of living up to uncontrollable situations is outweighed by... fear. if i am to ever change, it is fear i must overcome first - the root of all evil.

ps: pic is cover art of iron maiden's fear of the dark.

for lack of something else....

actually, there are quite a few things i meant to write about. some of them i thought not worthy getting more annoyed over (or giving them a tinge of eternity by outting them down in writing, lol), others... well, forgive me, i just did not want to share. so here is this darn thing that goes round the net:

i am: at war with myself and the world
i want: to be left alone most of the times; to be loved sometimes. that and world peace :)
i wish: to make peace with myself and learn to love myself
i hate: waking up early, being noticed, being yelled at and taking the blame. especially for others.
i miss: being unaware
i fear: choking on my own feelings
i hear: a quiet song in my head and the constant sound of the stream flowing all around my shell
i wonder: at the lengths some people would go to attract attention
i regret: letting myself go
i am not: half as good as as i wish, half as bad as some think
i dance: only when i feel naughty :->
i sing: dreadfully, so i refrain; except at concerts, then it’s top of my lungs and a cathartic thing
i cry: mostly at night
i am not always: able to stop myself getting angry at people who are not worth the bother; willing to justify myself.
i made: too many commitments, i think at times. but as yet, i cope
i write: preferably in black ink; poetry and rants to cleanse my system of toxines; i call them my intellectual wastes
i confuse: people around me with my mood swings and internet users about my gender through my nickname :)
i need: a stronger will and… something else
i should: get a grip on myself
i start: taking steps toward my goal (the how many-eth time?)
i finish: a coke bottle really quick :)
i tag: whoever feels like it.

war

i had almost forgotten the emotional charge of crying. amazing how much energy it consumes. still, it bears no relief. the tears, instead of cooling the down the inner turmoil, are like drops of acid rain: eating me up even more. crying as a therapy never works for me. instead of getting some sort of precare peace, all i end up with is read swollen eyes and a stubborn headache that goes away neither with pills, nor sleep. plus the trouble in the morning of caching it somehow to avoid stupid questions.

some day, i think i will simply tear in two. there is no sign of a truce. the me who loves me and the me who hates me wedge war an the me who loves me is slowly but steady losing ground. it is a calm, soothing, dignified me and it was not made for war. it is weary and receives but feeble support. the me who hates me... i wish it were violent, blind hate. it would be bound to make a mistake at some point. instead, it is cold and calculated, the hate stemming from steely scorn and contempt. it is coldblooded but when given the opportunity, it strikes with precision and fierce thirst. it takes no prisoners.

and me... i am hurled up in a corner like a frightened child. i hold a torn teddy in a frantic sweaty grip. i tried screaming, but no sound comes out. i am reduced to silent, uncontrolled sobbing while watching a twilit smoking battlefield that is my soul. shreds, pieces and bits of it hang around limply. and all i want is to close my eyes and make it all go away and feel safe and warm and cuddled. sometimes i even manage. until the next scream errupts and i widen my eyes in fear.

ps: click on image for link to original context on deviantart.com