The Old Craft

I am a being of immemorial light and endless possibilities, am I not?

What I think and want from whatever falls unto my senses, shall be so. An old cross, a dark sky, and a whole saga to bear… 

My stories are as old as my luminous being, cast down to this mundane realm by mischief, they shall survive and thrive, at the precipice of every evening tide ...

Lost in the Moment II

Give me access to the infinite skies of primal chaos and I will find myself a creeping, desolate world of nightmarish yearning…

Where darkness is a swirling mass of potent life force, churning in isolation and silence, lying in wait for the imminent days of destruction…in constant muttering of cataclysmic mantras

Wonderful View XXVI

I think I’ve heard of a perfect soundtrack for this sign….Something with ‘blood’ and ‘sixteen’ on it…

The Real Panacea

The real answer to the problem of banality is, ultimately, our mortality.

As my favorite Danish musicians so aptly put it, no medicine is as potent as death.

So bring that gun to the chin, when the banality of a prosperous or poverty stricken life comes calling….

All your problems solved, in an instant. Guaranteed

Take your loved ones along, and be faithful to the very end…

Propaganda

The key to public control is a fine balance of persuasion and coercion, a sense of freedom and an omnipresent surveillance, free speech and propaganda, with the latter supplanting the ineffectiveness of the former, whenever necessary.

Carrots and sticks…Criticism and entrapment….Shamanic meditation and sacrificial ritual 

The only truth is the lies drowning in the brainwashed hippie’s bong pipe….and the blood soaked tips of my blades

Cunt

I am the flaming vengeance of the undead hatred, frothing for pay back, in the name of my self-righteousness, and perpetual chaos.

I am the dark star reborn, from the glowing pits of hell’s embers, bursting at the seams with relentless misanthropy, to exact judgment on your filthy deeds…. 

Cunt!

Barter

Let’s trade, shall we?

A share of my hunting soundtrack mix-tape, for a piece of your soul.

Who knows, you might learn to enjoy hunting too

O Labyrinths

O Borges, is this Thee labyrinth, Thine palace of immortals, so splendidly hidden, in the dark, icy depths of Ultima Thule?

Lemurian

The night feels a bit ‘Lemurian’-like, this particular evening, for some unknown and unforeseen reasons. Leaving one wound up in an enigma, almost as depressing as that place Borges depicted in the 60s….

“A labyrinth is a structure compounded to confuse men; its architecture, rich in symmetries, is subordinated to that end. In the palace I imperfectly explored, the architecture lacked any such finality. It abounded in dead-end corridors, high unattainable windows, portentous doors which led to a cell or pit, incredible inverted stairways whose steps and balustrades hung downwards. Other stairways, clinging airily to the side of a monumental wall, would die without leading anywhere, after making two or three turns in the lofty darkness of the cupolas. I do not know if all the examples I have enumerated are literal; I know that for many years they infested my nightmares; I am no longer able to know if such and such a detail is a transcription of reality or of the forms which unhinged my nights”

Jorge Luis Borges – Labyrinths / The Immortal

Ashes

I think I just had an epiphany.

How are you supposed to tolerate the blatant, mediocre hypocrisy that is other’s life? What is the purpose of all this floating mass of ignorance, bigotry, pretentiousness, and rotting norms, that spins around and around each and every one of us? 

The answer is simple enough. As simple as the pile of mundane ashes on our future urns

We are here for fertilizers. 

So, yes, tolerate the shit, because we’re all heading to the same dirt. 

Or, perhaps not. 

Maybe it’s better to satisfy our hate while we’re still able to enjoy the bloodlust.

True Nihilism

No. You don’t have to be living in icy, northern, overwhelmingly Christian, western, prosperously boring places, to understand the gripping madness that is nihilistic misanthropy. Not at all! 

I definitely think the opposite is more likely true…

Revival II

odd moments, passed and ebbed

lost in sights, missed by words

in darkness vibrating, damp and wet 

names are given to bear breath

to witness flesh and the tidings of death

to count the phases of the burial ground and the sky abreast

Wonderful View XXV

What a statement. All that’s missing is a Vatican-sanctioned Police Force to patrol the streets and clean up the sinners. 

The Pantheon

The moon Goddess, Ilargia, appears in many myths and legends. The Basque are very close to the moons cycles because of their agricultural background. 

Ilargia is the guardian of the dead; she leads their way to the otherworld. She also rules the world of hidden knowledge, divination, and magic

- Basque Pantheon

A Sky Full of Goddesses

“At other times, at the edge of a wood, especially at dusk, the trees themselves would assume strange shapes: sometimes they were arms rising heavenwards, , or else the trunk would twist and turn like a body being bent by the wind. At night, when I woke up and the moon and the stars were out, I would see in the sky things that filled me simultaneously with dread and longing. I remember that once, one Christmas Eve, I saw a great naked women, standing erect, with rolling eyes; she must have been a hundred feet high, but along she drifted, growing ever longer and ever thinner, and finally fell apart, each limb remaining separate, with the head floating away first as the rest of her body continued to waver” 

― Gustave Flaubert, November (1842)

A Collection of Offerings

I believe there was a time, indeed, when talented musicians make music in the dimly lighted, hate infested underground, worldwide, base solely on the desire of inflicting darkness, pain, and hate onto the world.

True. Fame and fortune may have also come as motivations for these people, later on in their paths. Nevertheless, you can always tell the distinctive difference when they were making music out of the nihilistic desire for world ‘contamination’, and when they start thinking about ‘dressing up’ for publicity stunts. These were music that will simply be hard to sell on their time (mind you, were talking about times when the internet have yet to exist as a public domain)

Those days, when music were made for the sake of venting the darkest of one’s desires, were the days of my (maybe some others too) musical upbringing. Sure, many of these musicians have changed in desire and attitude. It doesn’t change the fact that they had made music that give a fuck all to what the public wanted or cared about, once..

As this blog have always claimed since day one, that it is here to share such things, so here’s a collection of music crafted, as it clearly seems to me, by the desire of offering the world what it doesn't deserve – unbridled and uncompromising darkness, without the trappings of fame and fortune and Ebay and blogs and documentaries and youtube and musical sophistry and whatnot... 

Groupies

I suppose ever since Christian Vikerness had a handful of teenage girl trolling his trials back in the 90s, there have been groupies, as is every other imaginable banality, in black metal. 

No. This isn’t another rant. 

I have always thought of groupies as weak minded, good for nothing but exploitation, type of shit. I guess, looking back at that black metal bassist, ushered to the gates of death by his own fan, for supposedly not being truly evil, groupies can also, from time to time, be an interesting catharsis couldn’t they? 

Lost In the Moment

A good drinking buddy once told me - and it is rare, mind you, that he should speak comprehensively for more than one or two sentences - that the best movie he had ever watched was the very first ‘Alien’ sci-fi thriller, way back in the 70s.

Supposedly, the movie is so good for him, because it managed to take his mind away from some tough and shitty reality he had to face in his pathetic life back then. He was lost in the moment, or so to say, when first watching that thing on a nearby cinema, from the chest bursting baby alien all the way to young Sigourney Weaver’s sweaty underwear…

I don’t know about movies, but I have always loved to find music that truly gets me lost in a moment. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, there is always not much around that is not too cheesy; over the top, or plain and simple pretentious, that it could really induce a ‘lost in the moment’ kind of ‘trance’…

Quality is never synonymous with quantity, isn’t it? 

So, here’s a first ‘Lost in the Moment’, moment, of many more to come, maybe…

Revival

bones to bones

robe to robe

did we stand together in youth 

friends and foes at hand

in mutual abuse

did we bask together in luciferian light

AM 2015

Wonderful View XXIV

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