Burning down the Heavens II

I had a very long conversation with my best friend today. He's psychic, a holistic therapist and a specialist on behavioural disorders. He's also a quiet person with the patience of a saint. We are lucky to have known each other for more than 23 years, and he's one of the reasons I am still alive and relatively sane. 

Now, my friend and I share a lot, although we're also different. But one of the nicest things we can do together is divination. Why? Because our minds work in a similar way, we use similar methods and more than anything, we share the same core of information. When we close our eyes and connect with something, we connect with the same source. We share the same myths of creation, the same understanding. One could say, we're cut from the same cloth. Countless times his dreams and divinations and poems have verified my dreams and divinations and writings. Maybe the reason we love each other so much is sharing the same madness, each verifying the other's delusions, each embracing the other's illogical point of view. Maybe we're both sad fools than need each other's comfort to feel life is worth living. But it goes a lot deeper than that, and it's so accurate that it would have been scary if it wasn't exhilarating.

In my dreams I find answers that solve knots in your waking life. With your constant questions I discover the joy of giving you the right answer. And when I miss a piece of the puzzle or need help, you reach deep and provide me with it, because you can. You can do so many things, and through your constant feedback I discovered I too can. I can do countless things because you've showed me how, and in some cases because you've reminded me that I can. I can understand and heal and forgive and give advice and grow a thick skin, and know when to keep my silence. I can give you pieces of myths before any myth was created, because you too can take sneak peeks at the time Creation was still timeless. I can connect with the Heart without batting an eyelid, in the same way you can download answers without any instrument of divination. I can evolve and become a different person and ignore all odds, because the only real superpower we possess is the power of change. I choose to become what I want and not what my past dictated; you chose to overcome the past and ignore all odds and be who you are. And look at us now.

As the path becomes clearer by the day, and the stress is replaced by quiet inside, I look at the night sky and smile. The stars are always above, watching us both, and you and I know so many things no-one else does. We know what exists in no book, internet site or newsflash. We're the lunatic chroniclers of a world drowning in pain, blood and greed, and we can still discover pieces of ancient magic in the smallest thing. We rekindle that magic with our breaths and our fingers, our poems and writings, our dumb jokes, our friendships, our four hour long phone-calls, our odd conversations. We fight the good battle, the best fucking battle; the lost battle of idealists in a world brimming with mental cancer, violence and injustice. People can die but ideas are hard motherfuckers, the stuff from which not legends, but myths of Creation were made. We carry the banners of ideals in the battlefield of everyday life, through rivers of sorrow and disappointment. We don't carry them only when it is convenient. We keep on carrying them even when our knees tremble and our backs bleed from being constantly stabbed and each breath is torture, when reality spits us in the face, when friends and lovers betray us for those very ideals, when death takes from us what little life has left us with. We carry them through madness and loneliness and we carry them through deserts and mountains. I only have one wish; that when my time comes, I'll be buried wrapped in those glorious banners. May the Heart make it so.

We know so much, you and I. And we'll burn down the Heavens. We'll bring down immortals and open holes in the fabric of this sad, rigged reality to let the Light shine through. There is nothing we can't do, nothing we can't face. We've proved it a thousand times and we'll do it a thousand more if we have to. There is nothing else to do, no other way. We'll pull through, move on, get it done.

I love you. Sleep tight. Tomorrow is another day, another struggle, but for now, sleep tight.
May the three Ladies watch over you. I'll make sure they will.
Goodnight.

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Excellent articles for your hungry brains

I am going to publish the links of some excellent articles I've come across in the past months. They have helped me think or put in words what I know it's true, but can't really express it. Read as many as you like. They are all very good.

These two focus on the latest plague of the internet, people's "opinion". For some reason, a part of the population considers their opinion to be something equal to Holy Truth, and they get angry when others point out that just because they are entitled to an opinion, doesn't mean they are right.

http://www.houstonpress.com/arts/no-it-s-not-your-opinion-you-re-just-wrong-updated-7611752

http://thefederalist.com/2014/01/17/the-death-of-expertise/

Or, to put it in another way:

Next thorny subject: self-improvement. Nope, a six-pack will not make you magically attractive to your preferred sex. Read why. 

http://www.doctornerdlove.com/2015/04/no-more-magic-feathers-the-secret-to-finding-real-self-improvement/

And one more for the ages: Passion, finding your passion, and what to do with your life.

http://markmanson.net/passion 

Enjoy.

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Back online

After two weeks offline I have a running laptop again. Weee! Two friends gave me their old laptop, bless them. I have a history of using old computers and laptops. I've never had to buy one due to the kindness of friends. Truth is, I wouldn't have the money anyway.

I *did* notice that the world did not end during my internet absence. I also noticed how much time I spend on the computer. It's inevitable. I watch movies, listen to music, write letters and stories, kill time on social media. During my offline days, I read books. Lots of books. There is only so much reading a person can do and remain sane. I haven't discovered it yet. I do know I have to stop reading when my eyes burn and my head aches. It takes a long time to achieve that state of bibliophilic grace.

I am watching the sixth season of The Walking Dead. It is a very good series. It shows what happens when the social web collapses completely. Something not different than what's happening in Syria and many other places in the world now. If you subtract the zombies and add the 'good' European countries plus US and Russia bombing for freedom and the local factions killing anyone who doesn't belong to their faction, which is basically everyone else, the brutality and mindless killing is the same. What's happening in the world now is not different than a post-apocalyptic zombie series, but for some reason, human beings don't find this alarming. Unless it's happening in their neighbourhood, it doesn't concern them.

Recently a friend was telling me how lucky we are that we don't have a war here, and don't really realise our privilege. It's true. In a sense, my country is lucky. In another sense, we're not. If I place on the scales outright war and economic strangulation, I am not sure which one is worse. And economic war is happening on a worldwide scale. Billions of people are below the poverty line, or barely manage to live. How did we let this happen to this planet? Why are we not rallying on the streets instead of uploading coffee and doughnut photos on Facebook and Instagram with mobiles we bought on credit? What the fuck is wrong with us?

A few days ago I saw a series of dreams. I no longer remember what they were about, but I remember my state when I woke up. In my dreams I remembered how I felt when I was a preteen. The hope and awe and unbelievable sensation that life was open for me, that all possibilities were open. Now I am older, disillusioned, cynical almost, and so very tired that my soul aches. And it aches even more when I remember even for a little while how I used to feel. That amazing sensation of trust and faith and belief and the deep certainty my life would be so exciting, so amazing, so... magical. I don't dare think about it because it hurts so much and at the same time that sensation makes me feel alive. It makes me remember what it is to have faith and trust and an open heart. It cuts deep to expose how much I've lost on the way, and how much I can, perhaps, rediscover.

Be good to someone tonight. Just to one person, yourself included, and just for tonight.
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Random acts of vileness

This is not directly related to the post, but it's very nice. It's my random act of kindness for today. You are welcome. XD Source: https://www.facebook.com/MichaelStokesPhoto/

I have an observation to make, as well as a request. Don't be nasty. When you do something bad, the misery you create spreads in waves and finally finds its way back to you. How does this work? Let me give you my thoughts.

As you have guessed, a friend of mine passed away a little more than two years ago. She was very dear to me. A few months before she was gone, she posted me a birthday present. I have no idea what that present was. You see, she posted it from Japan and although she sent it by registered mail, her gift never arrived. It turns out that the tracking system for the packet worked only inside Japan and someone stole it. Since this was the last present she ever sent to me, I wish I had received it. Not for any other reason but for its sentimental value. In any case, someone interfered and I never got it. That someone obviously didn't know that this gift was important to me, and didn't care about the consequences of stealing it. He or she didn't think it was something, but to me it was.

Now you are going to tell me, how does this affect other people? Whether we like it or not, we are interconnected. We exist within a very complex web of social interactions. Every time someone behaves like an arse, this affects a lot more than just the person who becomes the receiver of that behaviour. What, seems exaggerated? It's not.

Let's say you have a fight with someone. You go home enraged and take it out on your significant other. They get out of the house with their panties in a bunch and without meaning to, they run over a cat. The cat owner isn't going to be a happy chap, and I don't even want to refer to the poor cat. So misery spreads like sticky smog and affects a lot of lives, because whether we like it or not, we are connected. Even small and seemingly unimportant acts of anger, greed or malice can have major consequences for you or someone else. I don't believe in heaven or hell, but sometimes a single act of ill will or irresponsibility can turn a person's world upside down. For this reason alone, humans need to be careful. And though it may be hard to believe, happiness spreads in a similar way, through the same social web. 

I am giving by nature so I don't need anyone to tell me how that works. However, let me elaborate for you. Do you remember when you went for coffee and the waitress was extra polite and nice? Or when a random stranger stopped and helped you with your car trouble? Or when a co-worker complimented you on your new dress? Do remember how good it felt to be at the receiving end of such behaviour and how it improved your mood for hours afterwards, making you smile and making you nicer, too? That's the way happiness spreads, and unlike misery, it is unlikely to cause damage to someone or cost a person's life. 

Do something nice and don't do it because you expect something in return. It affects a lot of lives, more than you can imagine. This is a small world, and what goes around comes around. It may come in a different form, but it does. You don't have to save the world from hunger. All you need to do is buy a sandwich for the homeless guy in your neighbourhood, or throw your remaining crumbs to the pigeons. Don't think big. Small is more than enough. Small and immediate is fine. And if you don't want to do that, at least don't step on other people's toes. That, too, is plenty. 
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Memory

 

I haven't gone anywhere near Dir en Grey for two years now, maybe more. When I do, I remember you are gone and get depressed.

We amass knowledge and experience during our lives. Look at you. You played a mean piano, ghost-composed or contributed to the songs of countless bands I listen to, supported noble causes in so many ways, and now you are gone. All you got was 37 years of life. Your creations are still alive, yet your knowledge and talent are gone forever. The languages you spoke, the music you made, the foods you cooked, the way you made love, gone with you. There is a hole where you used to be and it can't be filled. 

I keep losing people I considered friends, either because they die, prove themselves superb assholes or just follow different ways. Every year that passes finds me with a smaller circle of friends. But if I want to be 100% honest, no-one can replace you and no-one will replace you. Some people are one in a million or perhaps one in a billion. What do I know? I don't know. You were one in a billion for me.

Lately mortality is a weight that pulls me down, it chokes me like an anchor hanging from my neck. I do the best I can, I say to myself. I do the best I can for reasons unknown. I don't know why I go on. I just do. Even when everything seems completely pointless, even though I know the knowledge and experience I amass and the effort I've put in bettering myself will be gone with me, I bite the bullet and push on. What will change if I give up? You never gave up. I won't give up either. I'll keep pushing, if only to make those who hate me cringe their teeth. I push on just to rain on their parade. One of the best reasons I had ever read was this, by the gracious Steven Barns:

"I had a student ask why, if nothing ultimately matters, we should care about anything at all. Well, that’s why no world religion will take you all the way to clarity: there’s no social benefit. However, encoded within each major religion seems to be a hidden path to dis-assembling the ego walls without turning you into a bum, madman, or wandering Saint. It seems to be the inculcation of core values at a young age, such that the residual ego shell still functions appropriately even after you’ve shed the illusions. It’s tricky stuff.

My guess is that the gate of Adulthood—responsibility for the core values held by the culture (my version of this is body-mind-spirit) MUST be passed before deeper, more secret teachings are offered. Most will try to go straight for the goodies. But religions are what Buddhism refers to as the “large boat” while direct experience of the divine is the “small boat”, not for everyone. I don’t recommend it. I just speak about it because, as I realized yesterday, this blog is my version of Literary Autolysis.

But more directly, try this: a baseball game doesn’t “matter”. But if you decide to play, you learn the rules and play hard, to the best of your ability. If you don’t want to play, you lose the right to complain about the results you get in this world.

The challenge is to be “in the world, but not of the world.” To play hard, to learn the rules, to clarify our understandings, and then to move on.

To say “it doesn’t matter” falls right back into dualistic thinking, and logic breaks down a bit. “It matters/it doesn’t matter.” They don’t exist separate from perception.

If you can’t play hard, work hard, care for your family, engage with your community, preserve your body, provide goods and services, and grasp the fact that we can know NOTHING other than the “I am”—then please, please, please don’t try this. Don’t use “nothing matters” as an excuse to ignore your worldly affairs.

Remember the chakras? Master the lower ones BEFORE you get to spirit. Otherwise, I promise you, rather than clarity, you will be lost in illusion, and feeling holy about it. Obese, broke, and lonely…and feeling smugly superior to all us idiots who act as if the world is real. And then secretly weeping at night, confused as hell: with all this wisdom, why am I so miserable?

Trust me: you don’t want to go down that road."

Perfectly put. Thank you, Mr. Barns. Taken from here:  

http://darkush.blogspot.gr/2007/10/why-even-care.html

And one more Dir en Grey song, because it soothes my soul... Like you did.

  
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Virve

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

by Mary Elizabeth Frye, 1932

 

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The Book of Life

Assassin's Creed: Syndicate

I am still angry at you. I want to make you understand. I want to shake you and yell at you. But even if I did, you wouldn't understand. You never did understand, not even when I thought we were close, let alone now. And why should I make you understand? It's not my responsibility to make anyone understand. 

Sometimes I wish that the people who mistreated me would become aware of their mistakes and sorely regret their decisions. I would love to see them looking for me and not finding me. But this is wishful thinking. Humans are too self-involved and egotistical to realise there are things beyond their self-indulging mind games and petty interests. The sad fact of this life is that we're unappreciated by others, and they never realise their mistakes. Time passes, life moves on, and none of these people have the guts to come and apologise, or say they understood, or they are sorry. If they had the balls to admit such sentiments they wouldn't have treated us so shitty in the first place. Soon the relationship or friendship is a memory, yet another page torn off the book of Life and thrown into the fire. Humans go on, as blind and ignorant as always, life goes on, nothing changes, nothing is ever lost. Except maybe for a few days, weeks, years, lives, centuries, and it's still nothing on a cosmic scale. We're ants reproducing on a speck of dust in a vast, vast universe, and it doesn't really matter, and it never will. Evolution matters and evolution has no winners and no famous authors, no celebrities and no point. Its only point is continuation of life itself, orgiastic expression in myriads of forms and countless colours, in ways I cannot begin to perceive or imagine with my humble mind.

Everything matters. Everything is completely futile. Writing here is futile. Not writing, when I can write and so many others can't, is hubris. The planet will continue, with or without me on it, with or without my writings on it. It doesn't matter to anyone except me that I am awake instead of sleeping and writing here instead of resting. It makes no discernible difference either way.

I miss Virve. I miss her fiercely. Almost two years since her passing. And still life goes on regardless of how I feel, what I do or don't do. When I am not angry, I am sad. When I am not sad, I drag my feet from one chore to the next. And sometimes, just sometimes, I am happy without needing anything besides the fact I am alive and breathing and healthy. I see a blind person, or a drowned infant, and understand how many things I take for granted.

Won't this pain ever cease? Won't this suffering end? Does it ever end? I guess it does end, when we cross over and there are no more words. But until then, I am here and I am writing. For good or for ill, and until I can no longer write.

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Special offer: buy my conscience (while stocks last!)

Three different people have asked what to get me for my birthday, which was on the 4th. I do have a public wishlist in the links section of this blog, but since they can't seem to locate it, there you go:

Amazon Wishlist

Once there, go to 'filter and sort' (right hand side, next to the social media buttons) , and choose 'priority: high to low'. You can choose any item with the 'highest', or 'high' priority indication. Yes, the list is current, and yes, I am bribable. No idea what kind of services I can offer you in exchange, but do ask, it will be fun to hear your bizarre requests. :P And no, you don't have to buy the items off Amazon; that's just where the wishlist is located. Needless to say, if I receive a crazy cat lady starter kit I will be very pissed off. :D I already have one cat in each flavour, so don't you dare.

Other than that, if you have an approaching birthday for a person who loves vampires and darker stories, why not buy my friend's Lizbeth Gabriel's collection of short stories? She's really good, dark and unconventional. Just be warned: she does NOT belong to the Young Adult genre, where everything has a happy end, vampires are fluffy and killers are in reality misunderstood chaps who need someone to love them. She is genuinely dark, and loves to probe those uncomfortable corners of the human psyche that most writers avoid. She also has kick-ass female characters, powerful and unapologetic, and a good sense of humour. If that sounds up your alley, give her a try. 

My full review for her book: 

http://mostlyamused.blogspot.gr/2016/04/promised-review-theater-of-dusk.html

You can buy her book here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HV4584Q

Come on people, let's give a new (and authentic) voice a chance. Very soon she'll publish her second book, and she needs all the reviews and sales she can get. Here, have a kiss for your efforts:

(Psst. Lizbeth darling, hur hur hur, cackle chuckle titter giggle, you are welcome to bribe me. I know you can't send ice-cream in the post, but chocolate is most welcome. Get me the Ritter Sport Jamaica Rum that I can't find here and we're even. ;) ) 
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Consequences

"We need to talk about Kevin" (2011)

The moon is yellow and not full yet, and the sky is dull and murky, like thick pearly dust stirred in inky water. The clouds are sickly white tufts and the stars are nowhere in sight.

The heavens seem to press down on me tonight.

I count stories of my life that never happened, or were interrupted before they run their course.

One, two, three, four, five, six... Maybe even more.

A night of counting wasted chances.

I embrace a book and smile at my inability to change the course of the river.

I pray to Lilith.

Second born, beloved, consort of the first born, three-natured, bridge and divider, mother and destroyer, take me by the hand. Come.

I pray to Hecate.

Goddess supreme, heavenly, earthly and chthonic, mother of horrors and magic, protectress, enchantress, she of the golden tongue, merciful one, terrible one, your horrors are no strangers to me. Come.

I pray to Kali.

Goddess of death and destruction, she of the terrible wrath, invincible, unstoppable, destroyer of the ego, blood-drinker, demon-slayer, mother supreme, fight by my side, lick my wounds and don't let me hold back from what has to be done. Come.

I pray to the Heart.

Home of my heart, heart of my home, heart of the innermost within and without, don't let me stray from your path. I serve you with everything I have; let everything I do be in your service.

I am what I am.

Everything serves the Heart.

I watched 'We need to talk about Kevin', and it was similar to the dark, oppressive, stifling night sky; a voyage through terror and delirium. The boy was a sociopath, he was insane through and through, but I know how he felt. I know why he wanted to kill. In another place, another era, such a young man would have been an invaluable warrior, but now? The only place we have for such people nowadays is prison, or an asylum built like a prison. And I smile. I don't know if I understand this character because my empathy is so high or because I see his blood thirst mirrored in me. I do know I am too much of a control freak to let that side of me roam free, and there is always the safe channel of writing about it. But I also know I understand. I fully understand, and I am not ashamed of that side. If anything, I love and embrace it.

Some nights I wish I was someone else, or even better, no-one at all.

Goodnight.

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Valentine special: Ikea cupboards and Greek extreme metal bands

As a general observation, I avoid Greek art like the plague. I am not referring to ancient Greek art or the kick-ass Greek poets we were lucky to have. I avoid reading modern Greek writers, watching Greek films and listening to Greek music. Then again, there is a Greek band called Septicflesh that I love to bits. If you enjoy the darker aesthetic and symphonic death metal, check this awesome video. It's directed by Jon Simvonis, a friend of mine. If you like your visual treats a little fucked up and still wiggling/ crawling 'fresh', you'll find this right up your alley. If not, don't watch it. It will most likely put you off your food, and maybe your grandparents as well.

(If you enjoyed the video, you can see more of my friend's work at his site here, or subscribe to his youtube channel, and you can be real darlings and like his Facebook page.)

Other than that, it's Valentine's day tomorrow. I am busy at work. Have you noticed there are days someone leaves the doors of the asylums open and the inmates are left to their own devices, to roam the earth and make the rest of the population tear their hair? I got several escapees already. They came disguised as customers. One in particular was so weird and hopelessly idiotic I wanted to ask her if she found her boyfriend before or after the lobotomy. Being a polite seller, I kept my mouth shut and my opinions to myself. Blogging doesn't count. 

Besides that, I want to refer to the fact lately I've entered a weird phase and keep ogling men like Chris Hemsworth (Thor), Chris Evans (Captain America) and Benedict Cumberbatch (in his role as Khan). Men who seem to belong to an Ikea catalogue, cupboard section. If you ask me why, I have no plausible explanation. I can only attribute it to my present age. My ovaries are probably singing the Lament of Unfertilised Eggs, and lust after man meat (=good genes for possible children, that by the way, I don't want to have). Well I never. Ever since I remember myself, I liked my men feminine. Now I stare at buffed up studs with backs like trees and thunder thighs of doom and grin absentmindedly, in an idiotic manner. Slightly disturbing, but to hell with it. I have bigger problems than my changed taste in men. Besides, the possibility of me finding such a guy is only marginally bigger than me having a relationship with the protagonist from Assassin's Creed: Unity, so I let my ovaries lament. Hey, I'm not even sure I do want such a guy as a possible suitor, OK? So I ignore this new information. Never mind the fact I lose the plot and walk into doors when a big guy near me flexes his biceps. It's under control, I swear.

Me while discretely admiring yet another buffed up hunk passing by.

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