Brain Halfs

“Cerba hemisfero estas unu el la du regionoj de la eŭteria cerbo kiuj estas konturitaj per la meza fendo. La cerbo povas tiel esti priskribata kiel dividita en maldekstra kaj dekstra cerbaj hemisferoj. Ĉiu de tiuj hemisferoj havas eksteran tavolon de griza substanco nomita la kortekso kiu estas apogita per interna tavolo de blanka materio. La hemisferoj estas interligitaj per la kaloza korpo, tre granda fasko da nervofibroj, kaj ankaŭ de aliaj pli malgrandaj komisuroj, inkluzive de la antaŭa komisuro, malantaŭa komisuro, kaj hipokampa komisuro.” 

“Tiuj komisuroj transdonas informojn inter la du hemisferoj por kunordigi lokalizitajn funkciojn. La arkitekturo, specoj de ĉeloj, specoj de neŭrotransmisiiloj kaj receptoraj subtipoj estas ĉio distribuata inter la du hemisferoj en rimarkeble malsimetria modo. Tamen, dum kelkaj el tiuj hemisferaj distribuadodiferencoj estas koheraj trans homoj, aŭ eĉ trans kelkaj specioj, multaj observeblaj distribuadodiferencoj varias de individuo al individuo ene de ceta specio.” 

Yeah, just like that.

What Is It With The Word ‘Beyond’?

Is it just me or is there really no end to the multitude of Extreme Metal music released under the title involving the word ‘beyond’??

What is it with that word anyway? Why is this type of glorious music so fixated with it?

Fuck if I care…

There Was A Time

There was indeed a time when speaking of progressive, unorthodox ideas, through music, doesn’t mean getting all pretentious. Nor does it mean getting all distorted into indiscernible dabbling of disharmony or eeriness, to the point of disgust. 

If you can’t play well, pretending you can because the message and the image is so progressive, so weird, so evil or whatever else is the current hype, just doesn’t change the fact that your music sucks.

Thank shit that there was indeed a time when musicians know how to play, and how to communicate uncanny ideas, in ways that is both enjoyable to the ears as it is to the mind… 

Pieces of an excellent time

俳句

When the Apple Blossoms Bloom in the Windmills of Your Mind, 

I’ll be Your Valentine

Or Perhaps a Gutter Full of Slime

Where Your Throat Shall be Slit In The Presence of None

Come, My Slimy Valentine

When You Think You Really Know

The day when you think you really know someone, is (by experience) the day when big surprises will come to knock you off your complacent, self-assured self.  

No one is predictable. A staunch, amiable Christian, who carries a bible just about everywhere the dick goes, could turn out at a movie premier one day and just decide to shoot dead everyone in sight.

Just the same, a nick name from Eastern Europe, Voyvoda, could refer to both a robber gang leader and a revolutionary nationalist hero. Which reference should be considered when someone makes intriguing musical compositions under the same name?

There is just no predictable answer. Just as the music itself remains beautifully unpredictable in most instances.

Hail Voyvoda!

Tribute to Blogs – The Specialist (Pt.2)

As said before, specialization is always intriguing. It tends to provide a comprehensive look over something that would otherwise seem trivial from a generalized point of view. The only problem is it’s mostly a love-it-or-hate-it situation with such limited taste. Of course, on the other hand, it also provides a chance to satisfy peculiar fetishes as the following great blogs shall represent.

Cerebral Art

It’s always intriguing how much one can philosophize on the circumstances surrounding the late 90’s underground extreme metal scene, let alone the corpse-paint ridden one in Norway. Nevertheless, here is yet another rare blog doing exactly that, and in a quite intriguing way too. If the parallel between Mayhem’s Euronymous thinking (as well as bullshitting) and Bataille/Baudrillard’s sophistry is the sort of thing that keeps you awake for days on end in ecstatic bookworm orgasm, then please be advised – this is definitely where you should go (and die).

Nerd haven

Industrialized Art

As the machination of musical expressions grow by leaps and bounds, inanimate ministries have been set up all over the blogosphere, to spread the advent of cold, indifferent musical art known as the industrial-collective. It is precisely in such a metallic nihilism, that Industrialskad, in my modest opinion, surely stands as the mother hive of the mechanical-collective. Get loaded with engine oil ejaculations and monoliths of emotionless fetish, for this is the mother shit-load of all industrial music manufacturing galore…   

Hail, Deus ex Machina!

The Art of Being Lost

I know an individual once, who decided that backpacking through exotic places is just not enough to free one’s sense of direction and meaning. The individual thus decided to scrap every nagging details, backpack; ID cards; credit cards; mobile phones; bag of clothes; wedding ring; family photographs etc, and just go where the feet walks. What a great day that was, especially when the adventurer showed up a couple years later being burnt and mutilated by an unknown individual. A fellow traveler perhaps?

Get Lost

Filth-arsis II

Moremoremoremore filth! Need it like the needle, the snowy white evil…

Moremoremoremore filth! Come grab that bleeding devil, that murky wound that ever coils….

Gimmegimmegimme 

Mortui vivos docent

Courtesy of this great web

Filth-arsis

There’s always those moments, when all you can really unwind to is through the reverberating chaos of filthy underground death metal shit. Not because it’s cool to be so, just because your brain could not comprehend anymore the reason why your bloodlust is racing up the roof, like a methane cocktail.  

Cliché preference, eh? Maybe it is. But it’s sure as fuck is real for this asshole’s pathetic life, so fuck you and your cliché BS.

Gimme that filth now!!!!

Radiation

I know it’s not exactly the Cold War bullshit era anymore, but one does think sometime about what delightful effects a nuclear radiation could inflict upon living things. I remember watching that stupid remake of the Japanese giant lizard movie once, when there’s a scene of gigantic earthworms coming out from the soil around Chernobyl…not to mention the story behind the lizard itself. 

Whateva. Why does one need to care so much about life anyway?

Maybe, Agruss (as the bullshit official bio suggest, so I’ve been told) is a genuine sample of how such radiation affect one’s musicality…or maybe it’s just B.S.

The sounds of plutonium-infested brain cells, maybe?

Gettin’ creative

How creative can you get with the exquisite art of taking another’s life? Can never get one’s mind around it for sure.

Should a wet, rainy alley be treated differently than a dry, damp parking lot? Does the thickness and branding of one’s cutlery matter? Should certain styles of musical choice, attire or lighting be made?

Why do laymen think it’s all about being macabre anyway?

No Addiction Here

I think I have finally proven to all the critics that I am not addicted to anything they so peevishly accuse me of throughout the years. 

It’s been weeks now that I have gone 8 – 9 hours a day without chain smoking. It has also been weeks now that I don’t constantly crave for alcohol every hour or so.

Hell, I’ve even left this stupid blog unattended for at least two weeks without losing temper on every stupid traffic mongers in town.

Fuck. I think I can even overcome that last tingling addiction… 

Think I may even brave a year-long drought 

Seen It All

Just when you thought you’ve seen it all, something shitty hits the fucking fan and splatters it ugly slime everywhere, twice-thrice as worse as you expected.

Shit happens? Yeah, sure does. And sometimes it comes in triplets…like when you tried to stab an asshole who backstabbed you and it turns out that the asshole has another vengeful dick eyeing a payback, and that dick gets to the asshole first. Leaving you out of breath from the chase and yet not a speck of the ugly asshole’s blood on your dagger.

Fucking useless asshole. Fucking useless dick.

I want my payback, you fucking dick!

Mugged

When it’s on the newspaper, on TV, on someone else’s story, then mugging is just unreal. Distant. Like a fairy fucking urban tale. It’s a whole different ball game when it actually stares you down the eyes.

What really sucks is when the fucking burglar actually out run you, and your well-polished kitchen knife…with your laptop, mobile phone, wallet and all sorts of shits that just make anyone’s day that much more shitty.. 

We will meet again soon.

You, me, and my sweet knife, you chicken shit

Back to Basics (Reprise)

My newly found joy, of digging back to the good ole snail mail underground stuffs, has reached completely new heights...I’m now officially fucking high on these intense, Thrashy Death shit, almost like a moth to a flame.

Aggression, intensity, no holds-barred, fuck-it-all, good ole underground extreme metal.

Nothing beats the basics!

Back to Basics

Sometimes it’s just better to get back to basics. Surely, there are moments when listening to breathtakingly intricate or brilliantly odd music is quite a treat, and yet that is far and few in between.

Most of the time, after the numbing drudgery of a 9 to 5 life, the main moments of treat is found when the music is simple and hits right to the bare necessity: raw power, raw blast beats and an excess of excellently infectious riffs.

Thank shit some still care to preserve the basics of the good ole 80s and 90s...

Hack It Back to Basics

Axe Bitch Cunt

While some tribal ritual of coming to adolescent age involves the infliction of pain to the initiate’s body, in a strange country called Troller the ritual apparently involves something a whole lot more vicious.

Named after the way it is traditionally staged, the Axe Bitch Cunt ritual test the agility of young tribal men, who will try to copulate with Axe Bitch, and do his best to escape the axe once orgasm or ejaculation is achieved, as the Bitch will try to swing her axe and turn the initiate into a dick-less slave... 

Swing Da Axe, Bitch!

There’s A Reason For All This Shit

It does seem as if zealots always have an argument as to why all of the shit in life happens.

Why do natural disasters, killing thousands upon thousands of people, happen? Well, it’s because we are sinful and deserve to be reprimanded! 

Why do famine and war continue to plague the world? Well, it’s because we are sinful and deserve to be reprimanded!

Why are we always sinful and deserve to be reprimanded? Well, it’s because that is what has been written in the holy sacrosanct scriptures!

So, why is it written like such? Well, it’s because The Almighty works in mysterious ways, and you will be punished for questioning too much!

Fucking Zealots’ Ritual

Down n Dirty

It’s the fucking weekends. Hot, feverish nights. School dicks out on holiday. Drunk and disorderly. Intoxicated babes in silly short tights. Everything screams “homicide, please!”.

Yup. It’s time to get down n dirty again.

I love the fucking weekends...

Miss it Like Water

Some short, little things you just end up missing like water in a desert dust storm. Can’t believe my luck in finding these shits now...

Thank shit for the internet, and the great uploading son of bitches. Be burning some weed on a dead bitch’s eye socket in your honor soon, motherfuckers.

Miss It

Like Goddamn

Fucking Water