An Acquired Taste

One of the most nostalgic thing about the snail-mail underground days, is probably the excitement of buying recorded things that you just can’t be sure whether you’ll like or not, until it’s turning on your  audio player.. It’s one of those things that are just impossible to guess or fathom from flyers, band photos and assorted bad-ass bullshits on interviews. 

Something that takes weeks if not even months to get your hands on and yet still not knowing how it’ll turn out even then. Not until it spins on your tape deck or record player. Hell, nothing beats that excitement as far as this old fucker’s concern.

Of course, every now and then, you’ll end up buying shits you wish you hadn’t. Shit, you might just as well end up getting ripped-off clean. However, there might also be some of those intriguing moment when you’ll bumped into stuffs that grows on you, little by little, sometimes even years after. 

Those ‘acquired taste’ types of goodies that, in hindsight, you’d feel lucky of betting your measly allowance money for it.

Catharsis

Nothing beats a little violence on the pit. 

To get rid of all that pent up aggression.

A great catharsis for the warrior at heart…

With Fear

Those claiming to be fearless are either reckless or ignorant. This is especially true when it comes to dabbling in the enigmatic realm of the Occult, even more so when it comes to the darker sides of the realm.

Darkness, as one very wise and now very dead friend once told me, is a capricious harlot. Something that should be kissed with a delicate balance of fear and admiration, as an excessive leaning to either emotions could lead one to possession or slavery…

Always wonder if that good ole fuck is enjoying a delicate balance in darkness now?

Smellin’ It Everyday

If you know death, as some of us do, then you’ll see it, hear it, and smell it, every single fucking day. It’s an endless presence of morbid desire that sticks to you like some nightmarish memories.

Like an old wound that never heals, it haunts and taunts you to the brink of sanity. And nothing is more wonderful in this world than that foresight of death, lurking behind every shadow and laughter.

Buttering Up

What’s the point of buttering up someone? No matter how many times I think about it, seen it happen, or heard about it from others, I’ve never been able to grasp the purpose of that disgusting act. 

Is it about gaining some sort of access to ‘power’, or ‘influence’? Is it about survival? 

What if you get caught by others doing it? Does that make you refrain in shame or just continue in complete disregard for anyone other than yourself?  What if you get caught by someone who hates all manners of hypocrisy? 

What if you then end up being decapitated, along with the asshole you’re buttering up to, and made to have your severed heads kiss each other, in some beautiful postmortem type of artistic expression?

Well. I guess there’s always worse ways to die.