Brekekekex-Koäx

V///.

2008-02-11T12:19:37Z

There are reasons for my silence, reasons for which I have not been here. Day by day what little faith I had in words falters deeper as does my respect for humans. I simply harbour very little desire to speak of anything beyond the immediate.

It has been a long time now since I realized that nobody understood my language. Longer still since the last time that somebody could not only hear me, but speak to me. But she too eventually looked at me in confusion.

We hear only what we want to hear, regardless of what is being said. In order to speak and hope that what one is trying to get across will, in fact, get across, one must twist words to the most ridiculous degrees, abscond the meaning, hide it within garnishes that one knows would be palatable to the listener... know the listener well enough so that one may use what the listener wants to hear and twist one's own meaning within that confine. At best, there will be a compromise.

This is the base of human interaction. This is what we spend our time and energy on... twisting ourselves into the image of another. Twisting our intentions into the desire and experience of another. And they, in turn, must do that with us.

Even the most immediately obvious things require hours of debate.

But for anything deeper, for anything beyond the surface... it is simply impossible if one has different experiences, a different perception than the other. Even then, the mystery must be lived together... and by that point, it is beyond words.

I grow tired of being backed into a corner, of people asking for my words when they simply cannot understand them... when they will twist them into their own desire and understanding. I wish to opt for silence, but this is not permissible... it is as if we humans feed off of words. AS if we need to devour those words, and spew them back up, without any thought. A constant binging and purging. Perhaps it would be best if I were to offer false words, and keep my heart hidden. This way those words may be twisted. Those words can turn into what the listener wishes to listen to. Either way, the end result is the same. Save the words of my heart should I ever find another with a similar language. With a similar heart.

So, perhaps on a surface level you may see why I do not write anymore, why I am no longer here... why I am opting for silence. And that is enough, because I know that in its depth, you will not understand (my position, but only yours, as I will never understand yours, but only mine).

V///

2008-01-24T11:08:26Z

I know I have not written you.

Nor you, nor you.

None of you, actually.

In fact... I have not written to anybody, nor replied to anybody outside of my present project in a looong time.

But I know you are taking it personally. It is your prerogative, I guess... who am I to take such a thing away. I know you well enough... and from some of you I even have the mail that tells me that you are taking this as a personal insult.

So it goes.

But it is in our nature to take everything personally. Because deep inside, we know everything revolves around us. And the only thing worse than being personally slighted, is to be slighted by a cause of a generalized effect.

I have replied to no mails that are not of immediate relevance.

Why?

I have my reasons. They are not justified, I suppose, they are merely reasons. Like a meteorite being the reason of a person's death.

But then again, how is anything really justified.

So I write you this instead... though I know some of you affected by this do not read my LJ... though some of you do. I know... this is about the cheapest thing I could do. But somehow I find that quite humorous.

That is all.

V//.

2007-10-16T18:00:33Z

Mutek Dancing Sudoku & Time

This is a post that ought to have been put up a long time ago. Oh well.

Friday was the last Mutek.MX show that I went to. The venue was incredible. An enormous old factory that the City of Mexico turned into a performance space. Unlike the previous venue, this one had no place to sit down, one had to sit against the walls on the floor. There was also large machinery which had not been removed from the space, but rather fit the space beautifully. They were brilliantly lit with lights that slowly changed colours.

Most of the bands that played were bands that I would not actively listen to, but who were wonderful for dancing, and indeed, most of the people there were doing just that. I estimate about 1,600 people. The whole floor was writhing. Most people were doing the typical close-fisted sway back and forth, heads bopping, but there were many who looked like ballerinas reflected in turbulent waters. That is about how I dance.

Dan likes the way I dance, so I taught him a thing or too... mostly, I taught him never to close his hands, never to make a fist. This kills the energy... this is the final vestige of fear of release being grasped in the hand, an attempt at controlling the catharsis of dancing.

Though the event started at 4pm, we arrived at about 8pm. We danced, with only a few breaks, until about 5am. Linear time simply slipped away.

When I dance, I enter a trance. I have noticed that it is also when I am most in tune with time... as I understand time. And here is where I must diverge into a tangent...

Tangent: On The Brekexian Synchronistic Understanding of Time

We have a tendency of seeing time as a linear phenomenon of pure cause and effect. One event linearly leading to the next. All in a straight line. This conceptual time had to be invented in order for us to synchronize with one another. It is now time to sow, it is now time to reap. A long chain of cause and effect.

But like most of our concepts and constructs of the Logos, we take this to be literal. Just like we take numbers to be pure quantitative symbols. Gödel struck a blow to the Math/Science community back in the 1930's by proving the irrationality of numbers, a blow which was ignored and progress simply progressed onward in its illusory path. But the Chinese viewed numbers as essential and discrete qualitative symbols, each possessing their own value inherently. As did the Pythagoreans, who revered in particular the prime numbers as the essential and indivisible units of the Universe (viewing all the other numbers as combinations of the primes).

Science often forgets that it paints a portrait and then takes that portrait to be the real thing. In this, it is a lot like religion.

The Chinese I-Ching is a true philosophy of Synchronicity, not just a mere method of divination. For them, Time is not a line, but rather a Matrix of events that must be fulfilled, now, yesterday and tomorrow. An event of yesterday may have been necessitated by an event that will happen tomorrow. To best understand this, imagine a Sudoku...

In a Sudoku, a series of integers from one to nine are placed in a grid of nine squares. Three rows, three columns. Sudoku, no matter how large, are made up of these basic grids, or matrices. Some of the cells within the matrix have already been filled in, so that there is only a certain and specific way in which the rest of the integers may be placed within the matrix. In a blank matrix, the entire set is dependent on where you place the first integer and what that integer is. As you place the first few integers in their cells within that matrix, the options for correctly finishing the Sudoku becomes less and less, the fate becomes sealed to a certain pattern and distribution. Taking one path, reduces the amount of options and sets a tighter course. Now, imagine the integers, or numbers, as symbolic of events. The necessity or projection of an event in the future, sets the course of events in the now and the past. Or, a past event may shift a future event. Still, there are various paths. Most of which will never enter the realm of actualization, but their potential remains and has even influenced the paths taken.

This is how the I-Ching works and how synchronicity can be further understood. This leaves no space for our Occidental love of coincidences.

This is about how I understand Time... or as I refer to it, The Flow. Though in my mind's eye, I see it more as webs within webs, or rather, each individual connected to another individual and the massive web that comes of that. Much like The Net of Indra. The way in which this Flow moves, or rather, the specific paths taken within these potentials, I refer to as The Story.

So now you know a bit more about Brekexian terminology and temporal philosophy. Kudos for you. Of course, the important thing is never to take this literally. It is a representation, not at all the thing in itself. It is a portrait. It is my art, not a religion.

End Time Tangent

Dancing is when I feel I am most in tune with this flow. It is as though the music creates a perceivable map within this web of time, and the body simply intuitively responds. Swimming through Time, through The Flow, creating and immediate Story... that is dancing.

I believe music to be the perfect art of Time. Potentially the ultimate portrait of a certain matrix within The Flow... like a topographical map. Up and down and East and West and Now.

But only when it is in tune.

Addendum

Unlike the previous event, the sound in this one was perfect. The lows would vibrate the entire body and the thumping which was tactile only added to the sense of Time. It was, as a matter of fact, the first time ever that my nasal cavity vibrated and this caused me to sneeze on a couple of occasions. There were only five to ten minute lags between each set.

.

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Creeping about in the sculpture garden outside the venue in the wee hours of the morn.

V//

2007-10-11T19:58:03Z

Mutek.MX

Oh boy, I was wrong. I thought that the concert was only yesterday from 20:00hrs to 04:00hrs. But no... oh no, no, no. It is also today from 16:00hrs to 04:00hrs and tomorrow as well.

Yesterday was brilliant... I nearly lost a contact lens because I was weeping through Ulrich Schnauss. (I am such a sucker for those things). Circlesquare started off very powerfully and brilliantly then sort of lost energy towards the middle and ended a little shoegazery/emo. Pity. Tujiko Noriko was beautiful, sort of a Japanese Björk one-person act. She looked ghostly and melancholy up there alone on the stage. Björk is the sort of music that is at best interesting to listen to, but that must be very impacting to experience live. Such was Tujiko. The sound set-up they had was incredible. The venue was awesome, if not prohibitive of dancing. It was an old cabaret style theatre, with balconies on the sides and seats with tables and candles in front of them, done up with garish gold and red velvet.

I had wanted to go up and talk to Ulrich after the show... he seemed very personable, but I was prevented not only by a group of large Mexican gorillas taking their work too seriously (which will be the subject, in a sense, of this post as you will see in a bit...), but also by the fact that without a name, it would have been difficult to talk to Schnauss about our space and collective and have him take me very seriously. It is not quite yet the time for such PR maneuvers. It is very much the time for other sorts, but not this kind. (I could have talked my way around the gorillas had I had the incentive, as gorillas are very readily impressionable.)

Unfortunately Vladislav Delay opens today's show at 16:00hrs. I do not realistically see us arriving in time to catch him.

And here I enter the gist of my post...

Unfortunately, they had a LOT of technical difficulties... difficulties inherent in the very psyche of Mexicans and the reason why it is almost impossible to get anything big done in Mexico. Allow me to explain...

The government in Mexico is divided into various secretariats... "departments", if you will. So there is the Secretariat of Transportation (Municipal, Provincial and Federal), and another for Ecology, and another for Defense and Municipal Justice and Federal Justice and Provincial Justice (these subsequently divided into even more branches...) et cetera, et cetera. (There are more bureaucrats in Mexico than any other country in the world, even China... and no, not "per capita", but in total.) Each of these secretariats is technically and legally independent of one another. But they are also psychologically independent of one another... and herein lies the problem. They each believe themselves to be the Alpha and Omega of authority... completely autonomous of each other. At no point does it cross their heads that they should be part of a working system, like, say, The Government. They not only do not communicate with each other (God forbid collaborate), but will often go out of their way to sabotage the other. Since nobody cares to organize them, jurisdictions are fuzzy and often contrary information on the same topic is produced, not to mention contrary actions... if and when any action is ever taken, as Mexicans very much wallow in the concept and not the actualization of a thing. As with any good Chaos system, such as governance, this phenomenon fractals down into the microcosm of the individual, with each petty bureaucrat believing him or herself to be the ultimate and autonomous authority... unless, of course, the issue proves to be tricky and/or implicit of action, in which case the issue will be relegated to either another petty bureaucrat or another secretariat so on and so forth until some Soul decides to take responsibility for it... which usually requires years of time and the lubrication of a bribe. Hence, in Mexico, nothing ever really gets done.. and when it does get done, it is half-assedly done. And never mind trying to organize any big event.

This is not so much a governmental idiosyncrasy as it is a cultural phenomenon. It is the reason why I stopped practicing Aikido here. In Canada, for instance, incredible seminars are organized as each dojo of an area, irrespective of their affiliation, will come together to host a certain event. In Mexico, each affiliation believes themselves to be the one and only true affiliation, and each dojo believes themselves to be the absolute best example of that affiliation and will be damned if they work together... each trying to outdo the other by having such and such person appear for a seminar at their dojo... the rivalry and inflation is so great, that not only will they not invite other members of other dojos, but will actually be less than welcoming should they appear. Hence, they are never organized enough to actually have a decent seminar.

This phenomenon was present at Mutek. The Mexican stage hands refused to coördinate with the sound technicians who refused to coördinate with the video technicians. All of whom considered themselves to be the only ones who knew what they were doing. And of course, they absolutely refused to work with the crew that each band had brought with them. So through much of the show, there was a lot of screaming back and forth between the various branches as mics would not be synched properly with the mixers and the video/visuals would be off. One could see the Mexican crew fighting with the sound crew of Ulrich Schnauss for possession of the mixers and such. The Mexican video crew refused to allow the "foreign" crew to even lay a finger on their gear, so they just had to stand around and try to "counsel" them on matters. As a result, the visuals either started too early (during the sound checks, for Christ's sake) or too late. Sound checks lasted for almost an hour, and of course everything was off. Not only that, but their were horrible sound problems and twice the sets had to be interrupted as various people literally shouted back and forth to eachother trying to resolve the issue, each individual being absolutely certain that he and he alone was the only one who knew what was wrong.

Un-fucking-believable.

But this was also a great opportunity for me... as I do happen to be a Mexican. And I was made very conscious and aware of this trait in me as well... I could easily be one of these autonomous petty bureaucrats and have indeed acted in such a fashion.

But our collective in Montreal is not "me", but rather a Gestalt of Us. And yes, I am stronger in certain areas than the rest, as they each in their turn are stronger in other areas. What a baleful sort of man I would be if I thought that I could not learn from others even in my strongest points.

The experience of what ought to have been a flawless show go rotten was taken very much to heart, and I am grateful for it.

So it is with sincerity and humility that I ask my boyos (the members of our collective) to be keen at pointing out to me when I am acting like a petty bureaucrat. For I take with me my Mexican passion and fire, but I also have in me what makes us yet a third-world country and the very reason why I feel that I could not achieve very much were I to stay in Mexico.

V/..

2007-09-28T11:09:10Z

I love clouds.

I flew back from Vancouver. At one point we were in between two cloud banks, a fluffy one beneath, a clean one above. The sun had just set, so there were wisps of orange and pink amid some red. The sun was behind me, on the other side of the plane... the night was a deep blue... and in between the two cloud banks, unaccompanied, unobscured, discrete was the full moon. Selene in her resplendence. It was like one of those cheesy fantasy paintings, the ones that border somewhere between surrealism and hyperrealism. But it was ridiculously beautiful. A gorgeous so tremendous that one evolves somehow, one is blessed by its mere sight, presence.

Flying truly is a polytheistic affair.

It is a funny thing to think that it is only a relatively new occurrence that humans get to see the clouds from above, from so close, right next to them. Their majesty, their tremendous beauty, their full majesty obscured, save for the beneath ever so distant, for millennia, aeons to humankind. Saying: "Even though we have captured your imagination since before time was a concept, you do not get to see, truly see, until you lose your fear of flight."

What gorgeosity, what unfathomable beauty we have found as we peer into realms previously barred to The Anthropos (humanity). As if the truest depths of beauty were barred to us. The Hubble Telescope gifted us with images that spoke more to our aesthetic sense than our incessant necessity to answer the hollow "hows"; tears welled in my eyes when I saw the image of a main sequence star in a binary system being eaten by its neighbouring neutron star, its laments in a spiral accretion disk of fire brought down by the ungodly gravity. The depths of the oceans have opened themselves, allowed themselves to be penetrated by mankind to reveal creatures whose very language is a light display of ineffable complexity and subtlety, creatures that not even our dreams and fantasies could have fathomed. Creatures of nightmare beauty.

But of course, we feel that the universe is anthropic, as if all these things were meant to be seen by humans, when, as a matter of fact, we have only chance discovered what has lain hidden in the very crevices of our own minuscule back yard... and peered through a tiny pin-hole through the picket fence of our existence.

This beauty exists in and of itself.

The Universe, its power, its dimensions, its very existence puts our imaginations, our greatest power (that which both beatifies us and creates the very gods), to shame.

How much beauty is left to be seen? Is there a beauty so tremendous out there that we would never return from seeing it?

V/.

2007-09-24T07:21:19Z

"The sliver of light will break the silence."

I dreamt that this morning. It has been rolling about in my thoughts all day.

As is well evinced by my posts recently, I am entering into a laconic period. But it is different this time... no darkness. It is not even out of a sense of mysanthropy, or a battle with words. No, just a respect for the quiet.

Did I not say this would happen? Did I not say that I must "lose my tongue", if I go down the path I have now utterly chosen?

http://brekex.livejournal.com/26533.html

I have indeed chosen the right path.

I was fascinated when I read the LJ post of a friend and co-conspirator of mine a few days ago that mirrored almost exactly (in sense, in essence) my post, but with his own language. He too has apparently chosen a similar path... this is very good as our paths necessarily entertwine. I do not know just how much our paths are interdependent, but to some degree they are. At least for the forseeable future.

A crossroads of five. Or rather a fork... a merging, like five great rivers, with one big path continuing for now. Five into one: A Perfect Hand.

My heart is as light as it has rarely ever been. There is a skip in my step. My lips are tight, but smiling.

The sliver of light will break the silence.

Yeah, I get it. Thank you, Universe. I walk forward with your blessing.

V/

2007-09-17T11:51:59Z

ADDED BONUS!!!!!

It even came with the following comment at Youtube!!!

"The "indigenous tribes" never knew this land as America until Whites came to this continent and carved the greatest republic the world has ever seen out of the wilderness. The Founding Fathers intended America's racial character to be almost completely White. Until quite recently, for all practical purposes, America was founded as, and continued to be a nation _by_ and _for_ Whites."

Hmmm... so where do we of the Lunatic Fringe go to unite and claim rights to our territory?

Oh yeah... www.livejournal.com

V...

2007-09-16T11:07:04Z

Cectigoo...this for you. (And you too.)

V..

2007-09-10T19:33:26Z

It's called "Idiotsincrazy".

And I hate words. (Producing, of course, a compensatory obsession with semantic precision and resulting periods of logorrhea. Though usually I have protracted periods of silence; verbal manic depression (I hate the term "bipolar").)

If I must label my thought-processes for your understanding... for its conveyance... I am, by nature, an intuitive. And an anti-empiricist. And experiential. And anti-pragmatic (though this is beside THE POINT)

Resulting in.... a completely psychotic inability to communicate what I really want to communicate. Because I cannot explain what I see... because I cannot convey experience.

I move through experience and experience is the foundation of Mystery. Mystery being that which cannot be expressed, but understood -understand, stand under- only by those who have gone through it.

Then, I am also overly emotional... and for the strangest reasons. Usually because of connections and asociations that I make. For instance... watch this video (in order to continue reading this):

Click me for your pleasure

It made my weepy. It was meant to make people weepy. I love that song... if you play it on a powerful, high-range system, it vibrates the thoracic cavity beautifully. I am moved by music that has tactile textures. I am also moved by voice, especially Lisa Gerrard's voice. But the maudlin imagery, the complete lack of subtlety, I found offensive (though I did enjoy the Butoh dancers at the end).

Why did I get weepy?

This video triggered a reaction in me that I get often... One that makes me tremendously aware and subsequently sad at the thought of how incorrigibly stupid we humans are in comparison to our - grrrr... there is no good word for it- (ahem) potential (I hate that word in its contemporary context).

In the case of this video, it has to do with sublimation and perversion. (As I use the term "perversion", which is precisely (making it synonymous with "sublimation", actually))

But I cannot explain it.

Perhaps I lack the imagination, which would be rather ironic (though not necessarily "improbable") given that I am often overpowered and possessed by said instrument of intelligence. But then again, that may very well be it. Rampant Stallion... of no pragmatic utility (beyond what Purina could make of it).

So all this leads to one question...

Not within the context of words... but: Does anything I have said here make absolutely any sense to anybody other than myself?

V.

2007-09-07T09:57:34Z

I was attacked a few minutes ago... by an emotional assault I simply was not prepaired for. Roaming through videos, I came upon a Billie Holliday song I had not heard before. The comment by the person who submitted the video states simply and boldly: "The most terrifying song ever written."

A remark at which I initially scoffed.

But... the hairs on my arms are still risen... and I have a gasping sob stuck at the back of my throat.

Instead of embedding the video, I decided simply to paste a link as the comments are also interesting.

So yeah, be warned.

Strange Fruit -Billie Holliday

***So I present to you some decent lyrics this time around, as opposed to my anaemic abominations***

///...

2007-08-16T22:22:41Z

I have not be online much at all. I have been busy.

I will not be online at all, for at least a week.

There is an event this weekend in San Miguel de Allende that I will be attending. Then on Monday I head north.

So no communication from me at all for some time. Which is not much of a difference from when I do happen to be on.

Much love to the lot of you.

///..

2007-08-13T00:16:50Z

Most people really irritate the Hell out of me... but in the end, it is inevitably my fault. I was having something akin to an interesting correspondence with another, when suddenly he writes this:

"...I will be honest with you, people that use elaborate vocabularies (although I understand) appear as untrustworthy to me. In a way, you are hiding behind your words, when you could just talk like a normal person, and then people would more easily be able to relate. The big words are fun, but honestly, completely useless unless you are trying to alienate or segregate people. Okay? You'll prove a lot more intelligence to me with understanding than you will with a big vocabulary."

To which I replied:

"I thank you for your honesty.

I have a war with words. I believe I said this in my profile. For months I went without talking, because nobody understood what I was saying.

But that alienated me even more. No, I cannot talk like a normal person, because I am not a normal person, and that would be to represent myself falsely.

I try to give of myself all that I can through words, but they fail utterly to convey any experience, and in the end, that is what matters. It is why sometimes the internet frustrates me.

But I do not have a choice in the words I use. It is about precision. Different words mean different things and though synonyms exist, they imply that they are similar, not the same. Each word is a symbol, and one symbol cannot replace the other. I do not sit with a thesaurus in hand to see what word would be the most obscure in order to seem "intellectual", a term I happen to hate. You are correct, my words serve to isolate me.

It is a sad thing: The more we say of ourselves, the less understood we will be/ the more understood we are, the less we say of ourselves. So I rove the internet searching for those with similar experience to understand the veil of words.

I was at no point trying to prove my intelligence to you or anybody else. I know where I stand, and it is not a high place.

I am sorry I miscalculated, or that you judge me by my vocabulary.
I do thank you for your honesty, however."

hillbillie Asked me in a comment to the previous post "How stupid would you like to believe yourself then?", an indirect question that refers more to the "why".

I should hope that this will directly answer your question.

I am tired of this. I wish I did not see things as I do. Because even those of you dear to me... even those of you close to understanding... you do not understand. My beloveds... we are still separated by skin and a chasm of experience. But at least, at least you understand how to savour what I say... if nothing else. And at this point, I will simply take solace in that.

///.

2007-08-11T02:18:46Z

Me, myself and I. We make such a lovely bunch of coconuts.

Alright... because of apparent popular demand (two people), I am restoring my old LJ posts. Most of them, anyway. Some are lost.

Well... not only because of popular demand. They simply deserve to live.

So it will slowly be restored. Much of it already has been.

I have been reading many of my old posts.

Sometimes I believe I am not as stupid as I would like to believe.

///

2007-08-10T22:25:40Z

Now consider this:

I am a Narcissist.

What do you think of this? What judgment have you created of me?

But I know a secret or two about Narcissus. Or at least his story.

Hold your opinion.

Narcissus never fell in love with himself.

Does this impact your first judgment?

He fell in love with his image, but he could never reach it.

The difference is essential. The difference is in the essence.

The Inuit tribes believe that the Soul, that which the Egyptians referred to as the Ba or Ka soul, or the Greeks referred to as the Daimon, was the image of the Self. It is this aspect of you that forms your fate; your yesterday, today and tomorrow.

So perhaps now you think I am not so shallow?

But this image is the essential I. The total I.

So whatever your first judgment was, it is much worse in reality.

//...

2007-08-07T14:39:09Z

For a specific friend, but the message is universal to those who would hear it.

(And given the sort of friends I keep, it may just hit home).

My friend...

I like to swim in the ocean. I used to fight the waves, they would knock me about like a rag doll. I would steel myself against them, brace myself, and yet they would throw me about. Smash me against sand and rocks. This was the source of a certain apprehension against the ocean. It was not until I learned to flow with them, the waves, that my love for the ocean grew. I like to let them roll me about. I come out happy and with less sand in my shorts.

You see the dark tides coming and you don your shiny armour. You sharpen your bright blade, polish your battered shield. You hide those bright, bright eyes behind the dull visor of your regal helmet.

Resplendent angel standing alone before the rush of a tide of sorrow. What a beauteous image you make in your will and conviction.

This will not suffice... rather it is the trap of this tide. Your strength is tremendous, so you are lured to use that very strength against yourself.

The flow slithers in within the chinks... you fall harder against a thing which is at once brutally strong and yet intangible... your sword cuts nothing. The shield only amplifies the full brunt of the charge.

Allow this grizzled and cicatrized once-angel-turned-demon to speak: One falls in love with the image. The armour tarnishes, rusts and grafts into your skin. The shield is raised at every advance of perceived phantoms summoned by the sorrow itself. The visor drains the light from your eyes and you yourself become the sword. How can you fight what you are? In the end you will lie at the bottom of a tremendous depth, anchored by the weight of your very defenses. Laying there, wasted, wounded, and rusting.

The true hero... the true angel will drop his weapons, remove his armour, and flow through the darkness, guided only by his light. He is the pathmaker, showing others how to walk through that which one must walk through. This skill negates all physical attributes. No matter how small, or large... it is the temperance of the Soul that matters. The true heroic act is not fought with a sword, but with release. The greatest strength does not lie in solitude, but in the capacity to anchor yourself through others as you walk through these depths of darkness.

Angels integrate, not simply fight things off.

I know... I am both angel and demon. And it took many years and a tremendous amount of pain to remove the armour that had integrated itself into my being. And many will attest to my adventures into the darkness... for they come often and brutally to me... how it seems like I will drown... and how I always surface one step closer to the light that shines within me. How I come up changed and invigorated. How I swallow my demons and allow them to live within me.

You are a bright light. It would hurt me tremendously to see that extinguished. It would only hurt you for me to try to shield you from the inevitable oncoming rush. All I can do is urge you to strip your armour, drop your sword and shield, remove your mask and let the sun kiss your face. Then let the rush flow through you. While you flow through it. Trace the path that you must walk. And I promise... all that I can promise, is that I will be there when you come out the other end.

//..

2007-08-06T15:08:45Z

Ohhhh, ho, ho, ho... this is rich.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/science/article2195538.ece

Humans are funny.

//

2007-07-29T05:17:11Z

"life is meant to be lived in the most absurd fashion possible. anything less would be depriving yourself of a truly ridiculous experience"

From lwolf, in a MSN chat one minute ago.

/...

2007-07-28T12:23:03Z

Aaaaaaaaaghhhhhh....

Amon Tobin's Golfer vrs Boxer just gave me an orgasm.

Ufff, make that a double.

ñañañañañañaña

/..

2007-07-24T01:13:19Z

I will, for this time, lift my ban on posting. For this post, I shall speak of myself. Of my trial. But I cannot do so but in my own language. For it is a matter of Soul and Soul refuses to reveal itself in mundane terms. Suffice it to say I will speak metaphorically. This is a chapter in my Myth.

I am at a crossroads. I am waiting... there are two paths and no longer can I remain where I am neither can I turn back.

Once I go down one of these paths, I will not be able to turn back. One is the path of my nature, one is the path of my bliss. The former requires me to jump off a cliff into an abyss from which there will not be any way out. The other requires a pact... a contract.

For the first, I must extinguish my flames, for the latter I must burn like never before. For both I must utterly give up all hope and desire as they stand. I must also renounce fear.

The former is the easier of the two, I merely remove my remaining masks and take the plunge.

I am not alone at the crossroads, there are many creatures here, many images, many demons. Waiting, witnesses. They are quiet, I am quiet. There is also the demon with whom I must sign the contract in order to take the second path. I am waiting for signs from the auguries, to see if I have the strength to walk the second path. They will come in less than a month.

The contract is as follows: I must remove all present masks, but gain two new ones. I must shed my skin. I must stitch my heart, seal it, or else die of the blood loss. I must also hide my heart and shield it. I must give over my tongue. In return, I will gain a better perception of the noumenal, in fact, gain a much more keen perception in general. I will burn more fiercely and brightly, but I will not be able to love as I have loved before. That is forbidden. I will speak through action, I will not hesitate. I can follow my bliss, I can burn my hates. And though I cannot love them as I had in the past, I will be with the ones I love.

In the former, I can keep my love, but be utterly severed from them.

I am waiting on the auguries... I am waiting on two voices, specifically. They shall speak soon.

Either way, the up and the down will soon integrate. As will the dark and the light.

So the contract-binder waits, as I wait, as the creatures wait. For now, we are discussing prime real-estate in Hell.

Should I take the second course, and later break the contract, there will, naturally, be Hell to pay.

(Of course, I have paid that before and Hell is in my debt, heh)

Wish me luck. And say "goodbye", for in one month's time, I will not be who I am now.

ñ

2007-06-30T13:20:40Z

I decided to undelete my account. But I will not be posting here at all. At least not as far as I can see.

I just miss my Friend's page and I like to comment. That is all.

/.

2007-06-20T11:40:31Z

I do not get it... why can I not see myself, recognize myself?

Why are we so afraid to bleed? We will give everything of ourselves, lose ourselves, hand over our entire lives, silence our dreams, ignore our bliss... so easily, so readily, so eagerly. But... one little scratch on a finger and we go crazy.

It is madness... we are so afraid to bleed.

/

2007-06-18T14:06:21Z

...

2007-06-16T11:15:31Z

..

2007-06-15T21:16:53Z

.

2007-06-15T12:17:42Z