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Saturday, June 27th, 2009
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I'm looking forward to tomorrow. I get to sleep in, rest my aching back, drink chocolate soy milk like a hipster, and make some fake dread falls to match my latest favorite outfit. I'm really gay sometimes. But it's all for FASHION! ("FASHION!" is always bellowed in this context).
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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Omne Initium Est Difficile, or Number Twelve: Soulless sentience is the enemy of all.
Venus towers to the east, an untwinkling reminder of that which is so close, yet so far. Perspective means the world, or rather, the size of one. Nihilistic wanderings are accompanied, or perhaps paralleled, by the infinitum of stars which meander tirelessly throughout the universe, neither giving nor taking. Their uncaring stares are interrupted here and there by their blinking, as if twitching in mild disbelief of our primal knowledges. To personify molecules, they seem to sadden; for they were the old gods, revered and followed and looked to for truth and fable; now they exist only in the world's darker places, shut out by mankind's own evolution. Do they still hold sway here?
Whatever we cannot control is to be feared. Whatever we cannot understand is to be shut out and/or annihilated. Is this really how things should be?
The mystery still pervades us, yet somehow mystery now is being convoluted into a capitalistic medium, a marketable form of beauty, an idealized setting linked not to what it is as an entity but rather what the atmosphere entails. Such could be said for all too many things in society today: the true value lost, only seen now how it is portrayed in a fictional, whimsical sense. Beautiful things are becoming the things of fiction, the world becoming more and more intolerable, and thus we retreat into these simplified versions of our world, temporary escapes into enviable alternate realities, wherein things are... different. The mystery is lost, the frontiers still unbroken. Knowledge is secondary to beauty, secondary to ignorant bliss, secondary to the utter importance of the anthill. Beauty is, indeed, something to be quested for; but the knowledge of such, and the remainder of existence, is a beautiful thing in itself. An insurmountable one, in fact. This being said, one can look into oneself and see a complete absence of that which is sought for, and in this find not solace but quite the opposite; internalizing one's thoughts, one's feelings, one's individualism - everything which makes a person a person - is denial of what oneself is, since a person cannot be anything else but that person. The suffocation of oneself can create this void of solace, create a sort of vacuum into which all coherence follows; but if properly expressed can sing a chorus which could never be mimicked by the likes of anyone but humankind. It is the little things, and the big things; raindrops and stars, molecules and universes. It is the unknown and the small pleasures we enjoy, the ever-encompassing everything and the purely metaphysical nothing. We exist in a domain of materials and ideas, constructing that which originates in our minds into physical form, coalescing pure energy and rearranging what is given to us into ordered, structured things. Humans are indeed structured; we create nothing but structure, straight lines and schedule, cutting even through the hardest of natural barriers to beget something without a single anomaly. As humans, we find difficulty in concocting unstructured things and ideas; we categorize, we organize, we itemize. And yet, we hold the freedom from these structures within our minds; we hold hope, we hold creativity, we hold the pull of that mystery somewhere within us.
Perhaps this is what makes us human. It is not what we know, what we perceive, or how we operate, but the undercurrent of wanting to know that which we do not. We seek that which is unknown, that which is beautiful, that which gives us hope. We want to hold the answers in the palm of our hands; but yet, what would we be if it did not flutter away through our fingers?
...
This whole thing could be far better but I can never write coherent philosophy. It always ends up being a hippyfest and I never really say what exactly I'm trying to get across and end up writings things I don't even believe. Sometimes. Also, LOL WARHAMMER 40K REFERENCE.
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Today is Friday, May 23, 2008.
I wish I was typing May 23, 2007; for then I could rock that little boy we know as James Sterling Phillips again in my comforting embrace. His plaid shorts and chick sunglasses. His laugh echoes in my ears now and again. I whirl around but no one's there. I just want to... be with him again. Sitting at the theatre together, laughing...
Standing on Peter's balcony on New Year's Eve, the cold winter air nipping at us at 5 o'clock in the morning, when I was crying and he put a blanket over my shoulders and told me everything was going to be alright.
Tyler and James, exchanging fashion accessories. Tyler's wearing James' scarf and glasses and James is wearing Tyler's hat. Where the fuck does the time go. Chills run up and down my spine. It's still weird to think about. Still strange. We were so young and carefree. And it was only a year ago.
A year.
James told me once everyone has their flaws.
That the grass is always greener on the other side.
That perhaps, somewhere, there are happy endings.
I think he was wrong.
I think he knew he was wrong.
But I still quest for happy endings.
It's funny how Tyler and I can still smile, still laugh.
We have fun together. But, both of us - we're going to always feel the missing presence of James, wherever we end up. Wherever we go to attempt to seek out our happy endings.
My happiness is embodied in this picture of Tyler and I. James is always here in spirit.
Yeah? Yeah, I think so too.
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School is over. It happened this afternoon. I felt some sort of strange relief, but then the feeling slipped away all too soon. A few stress-free hours; yes, that was a good feeling.
Tyler re-dyed my hair last night; the shade of purple is quite lovely and the darker bits that weren't bleached are now black, so it's super-purple streaked with a wee bit of black; it rocks.
And apparently this now means I am unemployed.
Yep.
I haven't even started my job at the theatre and I have been informed I will shortly be fired upon refusal to take on a "normal" hair color. This is infuriating. I feel quite juvenile for it, actually, because it reminds me of how I felt in junior high when I started wearing spiked chokers and such things like that. So the whole spiel goes something like this:
Why do people feel the need to assign values to things such as "normal" and "acceptable"? Am I not "acceptable" enough? Is my appearance so completely vile and unnecessary that I cannot even work a menial service job that pays $6.50 an hour? They'll hire horrendously ugly people as long as they have a "natural" hair color, why not me, an average looking girl with purple hair? (Though Tyler did tell me I was gorgeous - it did absolute wonders for my silly frail ego.) I must say I look pretty good with purple hair, and plenty of people tend to agree. Does it offend people? Is it like mentioning religion in school? Is it like walking naked down the street? It is not my hair I am angry about, it is a philosophy. A philosophy that we must homogenize ourselves to simply exist, to dull ourselves down as a sacrifice to include ourselves with the rest of "normal" society. I realize lines must be drawn, but why this? It is not like I am walking around topless; in fact, I'm sure I could be shown on the Disney channel or something equally as child-friendly with no repercussion. Old ladies love me (your hair is so cute!), little children are fascinated by me (I have had parents tell me that their child loves my hair, my boots, my coat), and the artist in me is very pleased when I look in the mirror. So, what is wrong with this picture? I don't say offensive things to people (within earshot), I don't smell bad (the dye I just used smells like grapes!) and I know how to conduct myself in a social environment (no matter how much I detest it).
So, in short, I am out a summer job, because no one will hire me because I have beautiful, beautiful flowing purple locks. My father wishes me to get a job at the bank to be a teller, 3 days a week, $10/hr, 8-4; I am okay with that, but would they want me to change? Probably. That sounds like a much better investment than the theatre, anyway, but the problem still stands. Take me as I am. That's like a fucking Faith Hill song or something. Who can argue with the supreme knowledge of Faith Hill?
Should I even bother going to work Friday?
---
In other news, I did a portrait of Tyler and it is fracking beautiful. I think I actually did a good job. I'm going to go pick it up on Saturday since I decided to turn it in for credit in art (I was reluctant to part with it) and then perhaps I will digitalize it and color it and such. Then put it on my wall or something. Ha. It's actually quite an accomplishment (since he was horrible at sitting still). My plaid outfit went over wonderfully today and Friday is the first Seymour Stein and the Lame Limes show of the summer. White man blues, white man blues. I'm going to laugh. A lot. But they're always fun to go to.
I read a note my father had left for my mother on the counter tonight; it read simply "Lee [my brother] wants you to promise to stop drinking. Tell him!"
It was a really sad reminder, and not really one of the things I'd wanted to come home to tonight. I don't have much in the way to cheer me up but some good old photoshop.
Beware: WoW and political humor ahead. Hunters, OP, etc.
And you know Obama would roll a troll.
Anyway. Maybe I should just do something completely out of whack like, I don't know, whittle stuff and sell it at craft fairs or something.
...
I just don't know.
I am looking for that "momentary stay against confusion".
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"So tie this noose around my neck and let me go." - As Justice Falls lyrics, I don't know who wrote these absurd things, James or Alex or Joe or something. James hated it when you mentioned AJF. He hated the reminder he had been in a retarded screamo band.
In less than a week it'll be a year since James killed himself. I finally picked up the courage tonight to visit the cemetery; it has been months, and I am sorry for that. I wore my Converse, for the first time in ages. He still doesn't have a headstone. As to why that is, I couldn't tell you. But it screeches a little bit at me. There were a few new things there, like pictures in plastic bags to keep out the rain. But what got me was the few notebook pages that Peter had written, just like a letter written casually, telling James what was going on in the world. So I finally broke down. It's been so long. And I just stood there in my Converse, in the cold, on the damp ground, staring through rivulets of tears at the makeshift headstone Wyatt made out of plywood and Sharpie'd letters and wondering why. Why this, why that, why everything. A little part of me has a sneaking suspicion James was right, right about everything. And I still fail to understand anything. An eternity of philosophically nitpicking life has gotten me absolutely nowhere. I still don't know what anything means. I haven't solved any of life's "riddles," and instead I am simply more convinced there are no "riddles" - there is nothing else. This is how it is. And that's really all that is to be said. So we continue to waste our lives away, because that's all that one can do with life. It doesn't really make a difference in the end, anyhow. There won't be an end. There was never a beginning. If anything, I would simply reassure James that things will continue and we will never fill his place with anything, and forever feel the absence of our gay little boy who loved musicals, Disney, theatre, Elton John, and metalz. I would promise him that I would take care of Tyler.
I haven't a clue of what's going on anymore. I'm just going to rub my tired eyes and stop wondering for awhile, and dream of whatever my mind conjures for me until awakening...
We all carry a bit of him with us. Fuck whatever his crazy religious mother said to me, that IS enough - to keep him in us, fuck all of that "I need to know he still exists, in a better place" shit. We've got memories, emotions, and what he left us with. And to have known him and spent that time with him is a priceless thing. That's all anyone could ask for.
"Once a young boy, he set out
Upon the road to fame and fortune;
Full of hope for all looks bright in daylight -
But the young boy, he must learn
That the road is twisted and turned
And dangerous to travel after midnight..." - Wuthering Heights, "Land of Olden Glory"
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Saturday, April 26th, 2008
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I met Johnny Depp. Tyler and I drove up to Manitowish Waters (a mere twenty minute drive, a walk in the park for those of us in these here northern woods of Wisconsin) tonight for the filming of Public Enemies. We shook his hand and it was good. Tyler got his Dead Man DVD autographed. If only I'd brought my copy of The Ninth Gate! Ah well - I can now die happy. And this is not one of those fangirl ZOMG HE'S SO HOTT WOW LOL!!!! things. Johnny Depp is amazing because he is a very talented actor. So versatile.
Fuck. Yeah.
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Thursday, March 20th, 2008
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This week is drawing to a close. I spent a couple days in Rhinelander to ease my boredom; I have not seen hide nor hair of anyone else besides Bill this break. I stayed up until 6 or 7 in the morning those days watching various movies I wanted to see; it was beautiful. I was alone, I could sleep until 4 PM, and it was completely dark (I put up a piece of fabric over Tyler's window, finally). I successfully moved my sewing stuff into Luke's old room, so that will be there... he called me today and asked me if he could crash there this weekend with some girl, I said whatever dude, I do not fucking care, I'm fine with it. Tyler will be back tomorrow and hopefully he'll want to get coffee or something... I'd like to hear about his various adventures in Chicago (he probably didn't do too many exciting things) and give him a welcome-back hug.
I stole back Star Ocean: Till the End of Time from Tyler and started a new save, so I'll be busy with that for awhile. I (attempted) stealing FFX back from him as well, but I got home and set the case down and it felt strangely light - he probably left the disc in his PS2. Oh well. It doesn't really matter, I've played that game about 10 times over. I'll probably re-play Dragon Quest VIII after Star Ocean. Just been feeling it lately. And what else am I supposed to do when I'm at home?
I didn't go to the staff showing tonight at the theatre because I drove back from Rhinelander today and gas is getting pricey and the roads are horrible due to spring-snow-melting so I didn't think Drillbit Taylor was worth it.
MORE LISTS!
New musics acquired over the last few days:
Northern Oak - Tales of Rivelin (2008, UK, Medieval/Folk Metal) - Pretty excellent
WelicoRuss - Wintermoon Symphony (2008, RUS, Melodic Pagan Metal) - VERY good
Silent Stream of Godless Elegy - Relic Dances (2004, CZE, Folk Metal) - REALLY good
Katatonia - Brave Murder Day (1996, SWE, Death/Doom Metal) - fucking excellent, why did I not have this
Belphegor - Bondage Goat Zombie (2008, AUT, Black/Death Metal) - haven't listened to it yet, but the name of this album is absolutely perfect
Films I have watched over the past few days:
Béla Tarr's "Sátántangó" (Hungary, 1994), a perfectly executed 7 and a half hour long (yes, 450 minutes) black and white masterpiece full of the most well-composed shots I have ever seen and beautiful cinematography, based on the novel;
Werner Herzog's "Aguirre, the Wrath of God" (Germany, 1972) (starring Klaus Kinski, a crazy motherfucker whom I absolutely love), a very strange story of conquistadors rafting down the Amazon, semi-haunting, semi-hilarious, completely insane (the scene that really got me was the ship in the tree - it was just... wow) and altogether very weird [which is why I have come to love Herzog];
Mark Caro & Jean-Pierre Jeunet's "The City of Lost Children" (France, 1995), a bizarre yet wonderful journey into a strange dream-world full of madness, evil, orphans, and small acts of kindness;
And tonight I will be watching Robert Bresson's "Au Hasard Balthazar" (France, 1966). I have not yet seen any Bresson and I'm not sure what to expect.
Tomorrow I will probably tackle Federico Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" (Italy, 1960).
For some reason, however, I really want to rewatch Carl Dreyer's "Ordet" (Denmark, 1955) so perhaps I will do that instead.
Movies I have to remember to borrow from Tyler:
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
La Strada
more Herzog !
...
is that it?
I think so.
Belphegor's "Fukk the Blood of Christ" is the ringtone for my new phone, just to be really annoying.
"We think that art demands special knowledge; we demand some higher meaning from an author, but the work must act directly on our hearts or it has no meaning at all." - Andrei Tarkovsky
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Tuesday, December 11th, 2007
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Whilst I'm in a ranting-about-music-mode, Elvenking needs to shape the fuck up, too. The Scythe? Another example of a good band trying to get "darker." I appreciate "darker" but at the same time, they're doing it wrong. "The Scythe" is a good example of an awesome band who decided to fuck shit up by going in the opposite musical direction they should have. You can get "darker" without making your music sound like a bad hardcore cover band with violins.
Fuck you, Damnagoras! But I still love you! Make better fucking music!
But I know in my heart there will never be another Heathenreel. Seasonspeech is the best folk metal song ever composed.
In other news, this is the last full week I will have to endure in these claustrophobic, industrial dorm buildings; two weeks from today I will be in Chicago, gloriously enjoying my newfound freedom and attempting to throw off my harsh memories of this place. The apartment will be much more fun, I will regain the use of my car, and even though Rhinelander is a pretty stupid town, Tyler and I will find ways to occupy ourselves. I am looking forward to magical snowy evening walks and burning candles. Not to mention lots of World of Warcraft and noodles. Such is the life of a college dropout, apparently.
I guess I am not technically dropping out, simply transferring, but I cringe when I think of next year. I do not wish to leave the people I love behind; my father insists I "move on" and find new people to spend my time with (he just wants me to keep better company - and by "better" he means more "normal") and I disapprove of this. There is not really any point in myself going back to college next year as I will be a first (or perhaps even second) semester junior already and I haven't the faintest clue what the hell I feel like getting a fake degree in so I could go get a fake job somewhere in our fake world - I keep coming back to the logical choice of somehow becoming a writer, but Odin knows no one makes any money doing that. If - IF! - I am going to invest my time in placating society's institutions, they'd better make it worth my time.
So, at this point in time, I have no plans to go off on my own anywhere to attend some other college where, undoubtedly, I would be just as unhappy, but we shall see how things unfold. If I have learned anything this entire semester, anything at all, is that I do not enjoy being utterly alone amidst a sea of people. Nothing could be worse. Don't get me wrong, I am quite apt at entertaining myself, and nothing is more true than the fact that boredom is a wonderful catalyst for creativity, but after weeks and weeks of not speaking to anyone during the week, the isolation sets itself into one's skin. Not to mention my creativity hasn't been working this semester due to the horrible amount of stress and emotion I am constantly filled with after James' suicide, all of my social issues, and remembering my parents still exist and they are going to try to re-enter my life as soon as I step outside of this campus.
I must remain determined, nonplussed, and stoic as possible. I mustn't let any of it run my life any longer. I'm going to, somehow, figure out a way to get what I want in this convoluted world, and then go get it. Living in the woods is always an option to fall back on, we mustn't forget. I'll have to locate a cave of sorts to the north fairly soon just in case it comes to that.
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| Subject: | gay |
| Time: | 12:28 am. |
| Music: | Sonata Arctica - FAIL UNIA. |
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Apparently stupid Tony Kakko and his stupid band Sonata Arctica is never going back to the power of true power metal. They want to be "darker" and go for their "own sound." That's cool and all, but Unia FUCKING SUCKED. Tony also said he was sick of singing so high all the time.
NO. TONY, WE NEED YOUR FALSETTO. THE FALSETTO KEEPS ME ALIVE.
I can't believe this shit. Come on, man, you have the most beautiful voice in the entire world. USE IT. Don't be lazy. If I could sing like that, I'd sing my heart out. Wolf & Raven was a great song, by the way, and so was Gravenimage. Don't be so picky. I love you, man, I love you, but DON'T DO THIS TO US.
I could do a whole monologue to Tony Kakko but Tyler and I did that the other night.
FUCK, I totally was not intending to mention him in this entry. Fuck you for being in my brain, Tyler.
We need some real Sonata Arctica again. And by real I mean awesome and not gay like Unia. Because it's just not good. Create a side-project or something. Ugh. I love you, Tony, don't get me wrong! But SING, MAN, SING!
Just another thing to stack on the woodpile of depressive facts.
Things never change.
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Monday, December 10th, 2007
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Beethoven runs through my head, tingling the synapses and creating more intermingling joy and sorrow, because that's life - intermingling joy and sorrow. I tire of routine, I long for adventure. I need creation, the melding of creativity and innovation. A part of me just wants to make things and never stop - just draw, paint, construct, to manifest my ideas into tangible form - forever and ever.
If God were a true artist, he wouldn't have stopped after only 7 days. He would have kept going - and creating, and joyously adding, subtracting, and changing things. The sky wouldn't always be blue. He would feel the need to perfect his work, perfect and revise his art; however, if God were perfect, how could he create this, a thing so, so distanced from perfect? I wonder. I entered into this space so bewildered, bewildered at the state of life itself, bewildered how we've gotten so far from our original happiness. The core happiness, the happiness in living, the joy of every sunrise, the happiness only found with those you love or in doing that which you love. It is not now absent, but rather estranged - estranged by modern ideas of personal fame and wealth. We are beyond, far beyond stringent - every baby is born with greed in his blood, myself certainly being no exception. I crave for what is well beyond necessity. However, I also long for the simplicity which is long past; the closeness of truth, love, and the knowledge of personal significance, the attention to the important, and the concentration on living, living and living for oneself, living for what is true to the soul and what is needed by the mind for sanity, for ultimate consciousness, and for happiness.
Why is depression so significant an affliction in modern society? The Republicans will tell you it is the lack of faith in God these days. The Democrats will tell you it is the lack of medical understanding in the past. But I will tell you it is because we have lost ourselves in this world of haste, business, schedules, promiscuity, and love for that which does not matter. Purely working for someone else's gain, slaving for your own barebones existence, trading hours, days, years of your life for - what exactly? Stimulation in the form of actually living - release from these "responsibilities," from the prisons of our own making, is needed to enjoy true fulfillment. No, not an anarchy, not a society just geared toward pleasure - no, a society who, as a collective, understands what human is and what governs human thought. Greed and want of more, of new, of frivolous - want of pleasures many, want of the sadist, want of the glutton - no. Reserved, yet outspoken. Unknowing, yet eager to learn. Weathered and experienced, yet not bitter. We want things, but do not need them. We are unhappy, motivated by lust - lust for money, lust for possessions, lust for power. And when we get a little, we want more. You see, money, possessions, and power are not evil in themselves - but when overdone, overused, used as a singular motivator, seen as a singular goal...
All we really want is power over our own lives and the balance that power could bring. A balance, so the sorrow and the happiness come together in a union of knowing and content, so we can put our sorrows behind us, having learned from them, and now our contrasted happiness is full of wonder and glory. Why can we not all have the beautiful and the wonderful? Why is our world covered in filth and grime of our own making? Why do we overrun nature, both our planet's and our own? We dissolve from the very things that cause us unhappiness only to be called "crazy" and "unrealistic." We deviate from the vicious cycle we are born into and we are rejected, unlistened to. We find joy in what joy truly is - knowledge and the company of those with it. We need to understand, understand precisely why people continue with their rigors, their straight lines and and categorized lives - their jobs and their unchanging routines, their surly dissatisfaction but placation of it using ancient stories and the primal human hope of a higher power. People feel better about life if they believe everything happens for a reason, that things are under some sort of control. Faith wards away despair, but it also summons ignorance. Ignorance of acceptance, of the failure of humanity, they are content with a Creator instead of attempting to to solve the real mysteries of life. But I digress - the knowledge that there is not, in fact, an ultimately powerful Being would undoubtedly cause many people distress and depression. Therefore, the problem is innate in mankind - knowledge may not cause happiness, but instead offers a sort of fulfillment. Which would you rather choose? Ignorance is bliss, after all. We must think around Mankind's barriers and through His institutions. We must create what He has not created due to His ignorance. We must attempt to make Him see - no, we are not crazy, we just value the things which should be valued: truth, knowledge, and the ongoing quest for what happiness really is, instead of stalwartly defending "the answer" of an omnipotent being.
Choice is what separates humans from other animals. We have choices to make, and we make them. Our choices are then judged by none other than the Majority and they tell us what is right and what is wrong. We can play the System and hope to win or evict ourselves from its grasp, its tendrils supported by the routine and unthinking lives of billions. What is humanity's collective if it is but a mass of the repetition of the previous generation, with added evils, more powerful weapons, and progressive technologies? Politicians try to save the world, but they try to do it with paper and enforcement and a system no one truly trusts anymore. Artists try to do it, creating paintings and sculptures and films designed to express and educate - but not enough people understand or appreciate. Writers try to do it - but books are rapidly becoming a thing of the past, and many people take the attitude of "who the fuck reads books anyway?" Our world, now, so far gone and dug into its self-created rut, is now only doomed - less people are living for themselves and the glory of life, instead brainlessly mimicking their neighbors and fathers, working, slaving away for - what? Money, possessions, power. Continuing an ignorant, unchanging generation. We have no Masters - lest it be money. Money governs what we can and cannot do, it determines our way of life and we'll do anything for it. We have no beauty. We have no shame. I only fear our time - this generation, now - may seem the future's Utopia. So, in the end, what can we do but watch, adhere to that which we hate, forced into a life of servitude and lack of adventure, lack of creation, lack of knowledge - raising another generation to repeat our lack of progress and lack of innovation. We are no longer fulfilled, simply "happy" - a blind happiness, caused by our overwhelming hope that this is not all there is. I wish to search for what precisely we missed - where it all went wrong, when we deviated from our simple lives of friends, family, and knowledge. When we stopped working for ourselves and instead work for the things we loathe. What do we really need? What really makes us happy? Not the self-deceptive happiness that we have created for ourselves but instead the happiness that occurs to us on our most wonderful days, when everything is beautiful and we are surrounded by the comforting blanket we call love, the world's mask of filth completely absent - until we notice it again. Why does humankind create ugly things? Practicality and aesthetics should run hand-in-hand; aesthetics is simply practicality to the eye, and it is just as important as useful function. Why is everything not art, everything a representation of our inner selves and thoughts? Why do people "express" themselves in sameness, in angles, in lines, in blankness? We combine lines with routine and blankness with thought. If architectually represented, mankind would be a large, square room, vastly white, with sharp corners and a black and white horizontally striped carpet with small, brilliant explosions of color in remote areas. We are uninterested, lost, and subject to the majority's will. Children in elementary schools are ridiculed if they are intelligent or express a wish to learn. Even institutional learning, now, has become mechanized; we only learn to regurgitate, to get that degree, to acquire that job. We learn for what we get in turn on paper, in numbers and letters and percentages, but not expression and knowledge for the sake of knowing. We do what everyone else does because we are "supposed to." We do not stop to consider if this is what will allow us to get the most out of these years, if this is the only path to learning the answer to "Why," if this is the only way that we are able to live our linear lives. We do not experiment, consider libving in a manner the Majority does not. We listen and regurgitate. We learn and follow.
I have had enough following, enough unhappiness. I have had enough ugliness and enough ignorance. I am finished with society's clamoring institutions and its narrow-mindedness. I am finished with society's God and their wish that life is under His control, so things will turn out satisfactorily in the end. The way things are conducted in this day and age are simply not satisfactory. I refuse to enter, or take part in, that which I hate. And so my journey begins.
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Saturday, December 8th, 2007
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HI, I LOOK LIKE A FAGGOT.
But purple hair is cool so I'm going for it.
Not very viking of me but I haven't been feeling the viking so much lately as the.. I don't know, I just haven't been feeling much like myself, needless to say.
Ásmegin 2CD release spring '08, Agalloch "The White" EP release spring '08, Paganfest USA May 1, Heathen Crusade planning starting March '08...
So much wonderful metal.
Sitting across the room from Tyler right now, but he's too engrossed in World of Warcraft to acknowledge my presence. It's funny.
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Thursday, December 6th, 2007
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I think Ayreon should have an album synced to the movie
Koyaanisqatsi. [wikipedia]
The original is good, but I think if it was prog it'd be even better. By the way, this is one of my new favorite movies. It caused me to cry at the state of humanity and society's horrible, horrible structures. The juxtaposition of the imagery made me wish humankind had never existed.
So it goes.
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Wednesday, December 5th, 2007
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So there is this great fucking folk metal band - I don't even know if I can call them folk metal -
They are PIRATE METAL. If pirates made metal, this is what it would sound like. Kind of like a mix of Turisas, Korpiklaani, and a load of PIRATE.
Alestorm.
So. Fucking. Good. A promo of their album's been leaked, so it's around. Can't wait for the retail though, fucking hell. Best album I've come across in a LONG time.
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Thursday, September 20th, 2007
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From this point on, due to psychological distress and sensitive information, along with the impeding massacre of numerous Christians and the fact that my life is of no interest to you anyhow:
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, September 19th, 2007
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"May as well jump right and say it....We are sorry to say that there will not be a Heathen Crusade 3 Festival (HC3) in January 2008."
NOOOOOOOOO
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Tuesday, September 18th, 2007
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| Time: | 4:31 pm. |
| Music: | fagcountry from my roommate. |
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School continues to eat my soul like some lifeforce-eating organism, ready to suck me completely dry of any self I had left.
I was walking to class this morning, and there's guys handing out "free foods with a coupon whoops lol you have to sign up for a credit card though" stuff and the guy handed me one for Cousin's subs. He said, "Hey, they're handing out Bibles down there."
At the time, I thought this another quip at my floor-length black skirts, but I just laughed.
I walked further down to the end of the block and, to my surprise, I found 3 guys in suits handing out fucking Holy Bibles.
Bibles? On MY campus? It's more likely than you think...
I avoided them skillfully and continued on to the next block, only to find another one there. I circled around to the door on the building, only to find a fat, bald man with a pocket Bible in his hand grinning smugly at me, his smirk of superiority and holiness plastered on his fat face. I stared him down, and when he finally put his hand out to offer me that godforsaken text, I gave him the sweetest, most sickly smile, showing my teeth, and put a stop to that right away.
His god-favored grin only faltered for a second, and then he remembered he was holier than this here girl dressed in black, a heathen to be sure!
...what the fuck? ...WHY do they feel the need...?
That, and my roommate will not cease listening to country. I'd love to just claw my eyes out then pull my brain out through my eyesockets, and pitch it at the walls before all body functions ceased and I bled all over the place and died.
Might as well.
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Sunday, September 16th, 2007
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Being away is a wonderful thing;
I slept on the floor of Tyler's room, and cuddled with Lotus until the early morning hours. I have special feelings for Lotus. And she has special feelings for me. It's like a non-lesbian lesbian sort of thing. I love her. Very much. Tyler was beautiful, as always. It was a wonderful night. We stayed up until at least 8 AM. Ah, yes. My friends, how I miss them, how I love them...!
Shopping was done and Danny and Tommy went home for their father's birthday. Luke is being a bitchface. Grr.
I am tired, but it is not the resigned fall-asleep-in-class tired. I am a happy tired, a victorious tired, a guilty tired that reminds me of hours of discussion on zombieslaying and the general stupidity of the general population.
It only grieves me that, again, it is noontime on Sunday, and another long, tired, excruciating week stands between myself and that which is called happiness.
But tomorrow I must wake up to a nightmare, a nightmare lasting 5 waking days.
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Friday, September 14th, 2007
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College continues to suck. Stevens Point continues to be a city of nothingness, without an escape route. My head throbs and my heart hurts. The air tastes like stale smoke and the water tastes stale, as well. The food is bland, a sustaining blend of carbohydrates, overpriced of course. My headaches excel in their numbingness, as my excessive napping excels in its frequency and narcoleptic attributes.
Tomorrow I get to see Tyler again. My gears will continue on.
So I sit in my dorm room, in the dark, contemplating the truth of the harshness, the unreality of the world.
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Sunday, September 9th, 2007
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It has been a week, and I have been going to UWSP. The classes are easily the same as Nicolet, both in difficulty level and moreso in sleep-ability. Nicolet classes were at least somewhat interesting. Jeesh. This whole college thing really is not impressing me. I just want to jump out my window and scream and run the hell away.
Luckily, I caught a ride up to Rhinelander (which sucks as a city as well, but...) so I was able to stay the weekend with Tyler and Luke in their apartment - and let me tell you, I can already tell these weekends are going to be absolutely priceless. I sat on the balcony until 4 AM with a cup of coffee talking with Tyler and let me tell you - there's no place I'd rather be. It makes life worth living.
Who needs parties, alcohol, large groups of loud, boisterous people when you have best friends?
At the moment, I can hear Luke snoring away on the couch since I believe he went to bed very very late..early? as I got up when it was rather light out this morning and he was still playing World of Warcraft, which confused me since he had Vent on and there were like 7 voices coming from the living room. Ah well.
Now that it is noon, noontime on Sunday, a sad time indeed, for I will have to be leaving in the span of a few short hours - but the knowledge I will be able to do it again next weekend leaves a vague lightness in my heart, hopefully enough to tide me through the next week, with lack of food and falling asleep in EVERY SINGLE CLASS included.
It will be an interesting semester. And by interesting, I mean largely terrible with a few tidbits of awesome.
I'm sure if I peeked in Tyler's room, he'd be sleeping in his boxer-briefs on his back/side and looking vaguely unamused at whatever his sleeping mind is conjuring up to pass the time 'til waking. A beautiful sight, to be sure.
But I won't. Because that's creepy. Creepy like Luke. He locked me in the bathroom with him and turned off the lights. I squealed. 'twas disturbing. He'd take pictures of me sleeping, I know it.
So I will refrain from being creepy, and stay in my room and listen to power metalz until one of the boys comes in here to interrupt my last alone-time I will have in probably more than 4 days.
Sigh. I wish people didn't bother me so much. I rant about them all the time, which is semi-annoying in itself. Hmph. I'll stick to being exclusively anti-social and just glare at all those ditzy girls who come to introduce themselves to me.
Rargh.
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Tuesday, September 4th, 2007
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I don't know if I've ever been so unhappy by simply being somewhere else as I am now.
The utter discontent in college - oh, my heart is just not here. I get a half of a small room, a small desk I can call my own, and I find small solace in the metals I barely have time to listen to. I feel like physically throwing up from the disgust of a city, nevertheless a small one, with heat waves rising from the harsh pavement and the sun beating down on a sea of people, each with his or her own life and agenda. A tree or two towers over us, and the benches, but not the buildings - they dwarf Mother Nature's creations and put her to shame. The limbs of a pine tree, cut off, bleeding sap down its trunk. What would it say if it could talk?
I hate the sun, I hate the city. I hate the imbeciles I am forced to live with, thin walls between ignorance and idiocy can't block out the overall aura.
Why does society decide to create a system that divides families and friends? I want to cry just typing it - everything I love - the forests, the silence, the late-night drives through the woods, Tyler - back where I belong.
I want to run away. Far, far away.
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Comments: Read 7 or Add Your Own.
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