Saturday, March 31, 2007


This here is Ohma. I've mentioned more than once lately how impressed I was with Miyazaki's Nausicaa, one of the most philosophic stories that I read. The character that left the deepest mark upon my soul is Ohma, the Warrior God of Plague. Maybe because he is by far the most tragic of all characters, or maybe because he's closest of my concept of godhood: a human made entity, disappointed of it's creators and creation, thus retired and forgotten, until humans stirred it's peaceful slumber and summoned him up to help with their murderous ways. Tragic because he was the cause of the war in the first place, he was a creation of death and horror, and yet always conscious of his cursed existence.
This is Ohma, Arbitrator, Warrior and Judge. From now on, he will be my profile icon.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Out of Service

Still out, down, you name it. Mind lost, whom finds please kindly keep. Anyway, one uncertainity blurs my ravings: I need to convert some music files to mp3's. I've tried baptism and shahada, but none worked so far.

Trance + Opera

Not Wagner, though.

Eternity.mp3-matt ...

Monday, March 26, 2007

Raving Still

I am working these days. Working hard, I might add, since, what the hell, even in my Third World Cactus Republic on the fringes of transition we need money for transport, at least, if not for other Bourgeois pleasures or activities.
Well, I've been working, as I pointed out, on some rather more than annoying illustrations of a more than aphonical person that calls itself an "artist". But leaving behind the gossiping part, the thing that infuriated me about these illustrations were some rather unorthodox depictions of nature and animals. Well, I felt that in a certain one, instead of encouraging love of nature, it depicted a lion in a cage with two brats happily throwing a stick at it.
Now leaving alone the whole "compassion for humans first" issue, and my Gaya idea that animals live peacefully and don't destroy their environment, I did mention in an older post that my recent reading of "Nausicaa" only opened my eyes to things unobserved. But the whole meaning of my raving on Rave and Wagner is that sometimes I cannot but feel that if anything deserving to be put in a Zoo, it should be humans.
Good Night.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Random Thinking

To Cornelius

I think. I think therefore I should exist. But truly...
Is there such thing as existence? Is there sense to our beliefs, our actions? Our thoughts...
I left God alone these past months. I left complaining to God alone long time ago. Gods are mere creations of the human mind, projections of the human self, in it's flaws and imperfections. No, it's useless complaining to a god. It would be a most foolish way of rhetoric to one's self, as gods are the monsters of one's subconscious, unconscious, you name it.
Humans created their gods to have some one to perpetually blame, a scapegoat - like Syria, in recent times, but which fortunately doesn't make it a god! - but, the fools, they ended overloading the poor devils with their hopes as well. To explain how useless that is, compare with putting all your hopes in a dresser.
Cornelius told me some time ago how my cosmogonies gave him great immunity, as rarely he finds anything to shock him anymore. This time, I won't write another universe. I'll deconstruct this one. What do I know about it? Only uncertainties and speculations and lies. Should I believe them? Should one believe without questioning? In an age of Apocalypse and death, corporations and slavery under the mask of "liberation", should this worthless disease that calls itself "humanity" believe without questioning? Should it stop it's fury of overfeeding it's greed and hunger for more and more, more low worthless stuff for it's low worthless self? Should it open those long shut eyes rotten with puss of brain-washing? brain that doesn't serve humanity any good, mind, since it was the first of it's features to be left behind so willingly and easily. Should it wake up on this last desperate hour?
No, it would be pointless to reach it's long petrified heart and grab it from the clutches of it's self-inflicted sleep of indolence. No good, would come from it, not after centuries of lies and destruction that we even have the guts not to recognize. Not when we have those blasted gods to scapegoat for our stupid actions. Not when we have hordes of rotting priests to put the smallest rebellious thought of doubt to sleep with tall tales of our saviours that our beloved gods will send in the last hours of despair. Our beloved gods...
We created our beloved gods. Then we made up a nice cosmogony, not as nice as mine, a decent cosmogony, to fool the fool with these new gods. We created our gods. Then we told the story once, and twice and a thousand times until we believed it ourselves. We created our gods. Then we passed on our story throughout the generations, and we ourselves being long lost, the story outlived us and the gods outlived us, and the generations forgot us but remembered their gods. We created our gods. Then different tribes with different variations of lies started spreading their hate on basis that their gods being the rightful gods. We created our gods. Wars were started, led, dictated by the most righteous of the gods. We created our gods. All sorts of schizophrenics pretended prophecy and god-illumination, smoking lights and holy spirits inseminating virgins, holy wars and spread of belief. Through sword, through word, through stone, through martyrdom and entertainment at Circus Maximus. In the name of "our gods". We created our gods. Crimes were committed as dictated by the gods. We created our gods! Countries were destroyed as dictated by the prophecies of our gods. We created our gods! Animals, plants, holy pure lives were wasted for our gods commended us to be fruitful. We created our gods! Man reached the Moon. We created our gods! The human genome was broken, the code was hacked, we became gods, we ARE gods. WE CREATED OUR GODS! Yet 6 billion parasites are ever- ready, just waiting for one right the moment to kill each others in the name of OUR GODS!
We created our gods, they were to be our slaves, our scapegoats for every foolish mistake we might have made. We are today the scapegoats of our gods, our own creation, the slaves of a stupid illusion we engineered ourselves. We deserve our cynic existence, even only for being bloody stupid, by all gods! we do deserve it. And we'll only see our foolishness on Judgment Day, when we'll understand there's no Judgment Day, no Messiah, Jesus or Mahdi to absolute us. There will be only us. Each one, alone, with his own self.

Sunday, March 04, 2007

The Great Constant of Treachery

World politics is a heck of a thing. It's like a great spider weaving it's net, weaving and weaving, covering the space around it with it's thick poisonous web of blindness. A whore, that's what she's called in Romania. A great illusionist for the simple minded, that's rather what it inspires me.
Let me return to last summer: Hezbollah and Israel get into one of those usual border skirmishes. Israel starts bombing the borders. Then starts bombing inside the borders. Then Lebanon is a hell. Then US lets Israel continue it's bombing for more than a month. Then bombing stops and everybody becomes a winner (everybody except the Lebanese). Then Hezbollah rises it's political demands. On the other hand, Saudi Wahhabia plants the seeds of inter-Islamic intolerance. Then news gets out Saudi Wahhabi is behind the last war on the Shi'ite in South Lebanon. More news gets out that Saudi and Israeli are in bed. Then Saddam plays hangman. Then Shit Wahhabia seeses the occasion to declare Jihad on Safavid and on Iran, declares their apostasy on the spot. Every Sunni ass-head turns red eyed to his life long Shi'ite neighbour. Intolerance over hate and disgust. Worst kind of pejoratives used when refereed to Iran and Shi'ite. Bushmerica threatens Iran, now that it won full cooperation of Sunni rag-heads. Two barges in the Persian Gulf. Fatah and Hammas kill each other like cretins that they are, and convince the whole world once and for all how much they care about the whole Palestinian cause and people. Then, breaking news, the Safavid and Rag-head Wahhabia are meeting, shaking hands, hugging and kissing (each other's arse). Who's in bed with who?

Once, some long monthes ago, I was asked what I thought about Nasrallah and the great leadesr of the Arab pseudo-World. I only said that they sold us all, and already spent the money.

Friday, March 02, 2007

NausicaƤ of the Valley of the Wind

Like before Fowles, one month ago, I find myself speechless when confronted with beauty. My cynic self tells this might be due to our lives so bereft of all think pleasant, but before this beauty, even my self ceases to be cynical.

To better understand the reason this story left such a deep mark upon my soul, I should resort to more thorough explanations. Since longer than I can mark as a distinct point in time, the things I see sadden me. The misery, pain, humiliation. They enrage me, a deep silent painful feeling. A feeling which is not and never will be directed to my fellow humans. Yes. Human pain does not impress me, as I have passed long ago that final frontier of fatality, considering that we deserve every bad thing our fate sends us. Every reaction has it's cause in our greedy meddling, we should not, nay, we haven't the right to complain, nor plea for compassion nor sentiment. We do not deserve what this Great Spirit we call Earth has offered us so generously. I, thus, have reached the ultimate conclusion, same as Miyazaki, who put it in Nausicaa's words: everything is a lie, there isn't any truth neither in our noble causes nor in our filthy means; civilization, culture, humanity are nothing but the perverted imagination of our pervert minds, have not even the value of the smallest of maggots; we are but the cancer that pollute this world. Yes, the very same words used by the Matrix to describe us, such deep hurtful truth. I, by contrast with Nausicaa, have a cynical mind, and go further within my nihilistic beliefs: I believe there is no point of change anymore, the sooner we get to the end, the better for this world. It has endured enough.