Weekend’s Here

It’s the weekends again. That momentous time that only comes once a week, where any cold blooded hunter knows it is time to sharpen some fangs, machetes and spiked boots.

Let the hunting begin!

Documentaries

If not for an acquaintance alerting me to it, I wouldn’t have bothered to think that anybody would actually make a documentary of the underground black metal-saga. But, I guess some do, and did it quite well too. That is, ‘well’ in terms of highlighting what I’ve always sensed it is going to lead to in the end.

Even without watching most of the documentaries floating about in the internet, I can already tell that it will end up as a brand. Years and years ago, when there was less fat around the belly, hairs around the mouth and scars around the limbs, all I ever dreamt of is to rid the underground of these trends. And boy-oh-boy, do I fucking hate the ‘trendies’ back then. Still hate them now, but not with the same intensity, spite and malice. At least I don’t go out hunting them down anymore… 

It was never about how commercially successful they were/are, but about how they have turned the murky, morbid and hidden nature of the music I was deeply obsessed with, into normal, accepted, everyday bullshit. It used to be out of reach, sequestered, just as this pathetic life was (and still is), so it felt ‘cozy’ to “be with it” rather than just listen to it…That is until all the morons who like to ‘dress up’ come along, and somehow make it ‘mainstream’.

But, hey, it’s inevitable isn’t it? Flocks of sheep always do need a signpost, a flag, a mustering point, to hang on for direction, rebellion, etc… no matter how little they actually know about the nature of that thing they’re clutching on. 

Alas, every now and then, there do appear those who seemed to know what the fuck this whole thing is all about. So fuck the trends, and long live the trends…

Tarantula’s Wisdom

[….]

the unhappy, the bitter and

the vengeful

need their

fix - which is

you or somebody

anybody

in agony, or

better yet

dead, dropped into some

hole.

as long as there are

humans about

there is never going to be

any peace

for any individual

upon this earth or

anywhere else

they might

escape to.

  [….]

something

is working toward you

right now, and

I mean you

and nobody but

you.

(Charles Bukowski – “relentless as the tarantula”, 1986)

Sliced heroes

I’ve always admired those who stood up courageously to try and change things that are ‘wrong’, ‘crooked’, ‘unjust’…whatever you call it. Mostly because, more often than not, they’ll always end up in some kind of tragic, bloody, pathetic death. 

Heroic death, as some like to call it. So fucking heroic they’ll write songs about it. Hell, they even create some bullshit story about how the hero will get resurrected, one day…

Reincarnated, in a new, pathetic, heroic pile of flesh. Survivor of a grim, long forgotten, severely butchered death.

Well, I don’t think this catharsis thing my doctor talks about, with this blogging thingy, is working well. 

I still crave the blood. The heroic ones..

Condensed

How do you condense all the best, the filthiest, the rawest of late 80’s extreme metal into one cup of juicy, tasty, addictive, adrenalin pumping cacophony? 

I suppose you just hafta let the Brazilians do it…No one else can come close. 

Not a single swinging dick.

Wonderful View X

Homage is now and beyond…

The Thing Is

So more shooting sprees have occurred, so what? More people going nuts over every day humdrums? More hate and more frustration spreading around the community?

The thing with hate is, you don’t explode in fits of rage or shooting galore if it is truly hate. Most of the time, you’ll sort of ‘implode’ and turn into an emotionless, pure grade hatred.

When you do ‘burst’, it’ll be in a suspended, white-heat, explosion of ever greater orgasmic vengeance, blossoming in full vengeful glory 

Fuck how I miss it all.

Genesis

I love you because I need to

pass on the spiraling genes

survival by all means

marriage, rape and cohabitation

I love your body because of my genes

spiraling for survival

at any means

war, genocide and traditions

I love the need to replicate the being

the nagging copy of my forefathers bearing

I love you because I love them that beckons

pass on the twisting genes

from chaotic waters

when love is primal and untamed

so shall I love you because I need to

pass on the chaos

the bane of cosmos 

AM 2013

The Rule

Have you ever get the feeling that everything is going down the drain, much-much faster than usual, all around you? It’s not that you’ve done anything wrong. It’s just that circumstances are rapidly moving to your disadvantage. Like giant walls squeezing together in all direction, closing up gaps and alleys that seem to have always been there for the taking, and yet never appear to be so important until they start disappearing.

It’s a bit exciting, actually. Slightly ‘claustrophobic’ for some I suppose. That is until you realize that it is not an exception to the rule. It is the rule. 

No gaps or paths last forever. Not in this blackened pentacle called life.

Silent Mark

As boring as it may sound, you just can’t ‘pretend’ with some types of music. Not with music designed to express the depths of a bottomless, lightless, primal pit, where one’s soul has crept into, in order to shun all manners of benevolence. No sir you cannot pretend that.

It’s something that just ooze out form the notes, the chords, the vocals works…Like dirty, brownish moss on a damp cellar wall. Small details yet with the unmistakable flair of a truly dark heart.

It’s almost like minute traces of dried blood, from a piece of sudaria, used to wipe the dried rivulets of a crucified pagan god.

Nope. You just cannot fake shit like this. It’s ingrained, like a silent mark on the back of your prey’s neck, as your burrow your targeting eyes on it.

Wanderings

As life continues to deposit its piles of mediocre, meaningless, and puny throes onto a person’s existence, is it any wonder why so many craved sex, drugs, smartphone apps, and many other distractions? Yes indeed, it is always a blessing to be able to wonder off, clueless and careless of life’s disgusting ebbs and flows.

Some needs blood to wander…some just need a little bit of quality music. An orchestral key to the unseen planes

Lullabies

Having problems sleeping? Had enough of those sleeping pills? Infested cunts and dicks?

Worry no more. 

Here 

Are 

Your 

Best 

Lullabies

Pairs n Riddles

I like pairs, and I like riddles too. So here’s a pair woven in a riddle….

If your fetish blossoms only on Thursday night, then here’s the slow-footed 1973 twin, of that poisonous ‘69 tail

Wonderful View IX

For Granted

It’s always amusing to see people taking things for granted. Thinking, it often seemed to be, that everything will go on as before, business as usual, ad infinitum. That you can keep making the same shit mistakes over and over and over again, with impunity, or eternal understanding and forgiveness.

The biggest fun is when you see these sheep bang their heads hard against whatever walls they are inevitably racing to. Boy do I love the tears. Love the blood. Love the pain and insanity. 

It’s like slow dissection…you can almost taste the exquisite pain, in every inch of disembodied limbs

Obscurity

What is obscurity, if not hidden and secluded existence?

So why are so many throwing the word left and right, for anything new in the underground extreme metal music scene that is actually quite accessible by the internet?

What the fuck is so obscure about it when you can google up something in a few seconds?

Well, that said, some shits do get deliciously murky and primordial every now and then…Not obscure, but definitely not shallow either.

Just like teenage flesh on a moonlit equinox. Yummy.

Is A Flame

Love is a flame

A devil's thing

A violent storm

About to be born

Just look in these eyes

See all the lies

All the things you see

You cannot deny

Got a flame

Burns inside

If you don't wanna burn

Just walk on by

And the pain

You're feeling now

Is nothing compared

To the pleasures I hide

Awaken

What does it take for people to wake up to fucking reality? 

I guess people just forget, easily. No matter how much death and destruction happen, how much gruesome ways we have been killing each other, we just forget.

And so we continue to fornicate, and have fun, and babies, regardless of how fucked-up life has become.

Well, maybe that’s good anyway. More suffering, might just lead to more awakening 

Monotheism

Mo

no

the

ism

How To Exit

How do you exit the stage, after performing one of Progressive Rock’s most monumental concert ever?

No, no blood drinking, bat chewing, naked girls romping needed. No bombastic theatrical charade is also warranted.

You just walk off, and head to the left of the stage.

That’s all there is to it 

Silly Bloody Days

Looking back on those good ole snail-mail days of the extreme global underground musical circuit, one would be a fool not to laugh at some of the bad blood between ‘groups’ that goes on those days.

I still remember the days when HC/Punk shits would always look to pick up fights with Death/Black Metal cocks, at every fucking venue around my neighborhood. 

Great nights for bleeding fists and noses, I tell ya.

Now what does it all mean anyway? Can’t sing about evil if your punk/HC?

What a bunch of bullshits

Pet

If I can ever choose a pet, it would have to be menacing. A little fuzzy and unclear in terms of species, but it definitely needs to be unfriendly.

Maybe a Tarkus will do.

You know. That psychedelic, gun-toting, fuzzy, tank-morphed thing from the 1970s. The one that roam around the rainbow-colored vista of Mr. Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s twisted and egocentric little minds?

Twisted Little Fun

How do you have your fun years ago? Did you also try the joy of arson on hallowed ground? Pillaging the dead ones’ last abode? Mutilating little pesky preachers?

Dirty, summer-filled days of vice, galore. Just thinking about it brings back fond memories of those nearly perfect soundtracks from the darker sides of metal music..

I miss the dirty black summer

Bratislav Stojanovic

Who ever think that homeless people are dumb, need only to look at Bratislav Stojanovic, a homeless genius from Serbia. The man, 43 years old, has chosen to live inside a tomb, in the southern Serbian town of Nis where he has been living all his live. 

Stojanovic, a Nis-born construction worker who never had a regular job, first lived in abandoned houses, but around 15 years ago decided to settle in the old city cemetery. 

Now that’s a smart choice of living, considering all the shit other people brings about all the time.

Who needs fucking neighbors anyway? Being solitary is being in bliss.

Wonderful View VIII

It is essential to teach your kids early on that conspiracy theories are the only meaningful truth out there. We can never have enough psychopaths, people. Never enough.

Faith

Hell yes, I do have faith. Faith in the potential of every fucking human being to lie, cheat, exploit and manipulate. To be hypocritical, self-centered, a snob, and a fucking coward.

Those are the traits of every human being. You. Me. The long-gone-dead and the soon to be dead. Never lose faith on our vices, or be blinded forever.

Now that’s as real a faith as it can ever get, isn’t it?

Fuckin good ole faith in humanity. Yes sir.

We should all be treated to euthanasia if there shall ever be peace across this fuckin globe.

What Is It?

What is it that brings us out, back to the congested, polluted streets, self-centered crowds of sheep, bullshit chatters, day in, day out? 

Is it hunger? Sex? Boredom? Need of achievement (yeah, right)?

Maybe we just can’t stand to stand still and do nothing…Maybe that’s why every now and then we need some outlet, something different, new, taboo. A different type of hunger. Like what that NYPD pig was said to be doing, Valle, plotting to hack and chew on his own wife.

Maybe that’s why some us are hooked on the less mild forms of music.

Because it’s a bloody hunger….