Heartache

Image: Yoshitaka Amano

 

This is a moment of happiness. Coffin: The art of Vampire Hunter D by Yoshitaka Amano is in my hands, a huge volume gathering all the fantastic works that Amano ever made on this hero. Words can't describe the feedback one gets through his creations, the longing to be somewhere else, to be someone else. For if our parents, religion, sexual preferences, place of origin, colour of skin and even sex mean nothing, what's left of us is our legacy. Or is it? Amano was hoping this art book to be part of his legacy. What is going to be mine? Friendship books? Old letters? Do actions matter at all? What people see, what people say about one, does it matter? When my ashes will be travelling the planet, will other people's opinion matter in the least?

We all exist to nourish God/dess

What kind of nourishment do I offer to Him/her?

True art makes me weak, and don't get me started on what true art is. Just remember those times you ceased to breathe in front of a work of art. There, that's true art for you.

Biological warfare…

Second heat wave in Athens. My house looks like a bomb fell in, but the type of bomb that kills only cats. No matter where one looks, there are cats lying flat on their backs, sprawled like butter onto the floor, four legs stuck in the air and slowly turning into pools of hairy goo. It is a disaster of biblical proportions: so many tummies to rub, so little time.

I am mightily pissed off.

I am furious. They burned mountain Parnitha (the last forest near Athens) to a crisp, together with thousands of animals; deer, birds, tortoises. Anything that did not manage to escape (and we all know tortoises can’t run) was incinerated. 40,000 to 50,000 square acres of forest are now ashes due to arson. It virtually stabs me in the heart. They treat this planet, Gaia, as if their great great grandfathers had a contact with God himself and he gave it to them as a playground. Or rather, they treat her as an expendable whore, to fuck and use in every desirable way before killing her. This is the place your children and your children’s children will live on, you bloody fuckwits. It’s a loan from them, not yours to do as you please. 

Isn’t it funny, how uncaring people are total breeding machines, producing children in the same way other people produce farts (and devoting the exact same amount of time raising them, hence more robots walking this planet), while conscious people think twice about having children? Why bring a child here in this world? Why give birth amidst the ashes of a post-apocalyptic landscape? Show these children what? Take them where? Teach them what? When all the animals are gone, there will be no-one left to teach us unconditional love. When the last tree is gone, I hope the waves rise like the ancient Leviathan of myth and drown us all. Fish will come to swim under the ceilings of Chapel Sistine and inside Louvre; our houses will be populated by mermaids. Perhaps when this comes to pass there will be a new start, with no humans anywhere in sight. Perhaps dolphins will learn to walk. Perhaps not. In any case, it would be more appropriate for them to inherit this poor planet. It’s only us, humans, that take away what we can’t replace, and burn down that which doesn’t belong to us. It’s only us that open our way through reality with brutal force, and send quality of life to hell for our petty plans and egos. No animal ever does that. 

I swear, the first villa that I see built on Parnitha, I’ll bomb it myself, and impale its owner in the garden on a very high stake. Very post-modern and appropriate.