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Show posts MenuQuote from: Prince DiscordLovage - Music to make Love to your Old Lady By is a side project of Mike Patten ... If the man has anough stamina will kick ass if you can stay through the whole thing
QuoteIf one ignores human perceptual notions of positive and negative with regards to the piece we tend to get the impression (like you said zombie) that the writer embraces the darkness...
QuoteOn several occasions during deep sleep periods I have experienced what has been variously called satori, the hum, collective memory, etc. All it was however was a senosry overload that existed in total darkness.
QuoteTo remove one's own perceptual mindset from one's thought processes is a frightening experience you lose your identity; something that must be surrendered, but ultimately (i Feel) something that is not supposed to be lost.
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When everyone you have ever loved is finally gone. When everything you have ever wanted is finally done with. When all of your nightmares are for a time obscured as by a shining brainless beacon, or a blinding eclipse of the many terrible shapes of this world. When you are calm and joyful and finally entirely alone, then in a great new darkness you will finally execute your special plan.
"One needs to have a plan", someone said who was turned away into the shadows and I had beleived to be sleeping or dead.
"Imagine", he said, "all the flesh that is eaten. The teeth tearing into it, the tongue tasting its savor and the hunger that taste. Now take away that flesh", he said, "take away the teeth and the tongue the taste and the hunger. Take away everything as it is. That was my plan, my own special plan for this world."
I listened to these words and yet I did not wonder that this creature I had beleived sleeping or dead would ever approach his vision, even in his deepest dreams or his most lasting death. Because I had heard of such plans, such visions, and I knew they did not see far enough. That what was demanded in the way of a plan needed to go beyond tongue and teeth, taste and hunger, beyond the bones and the very dust of bones and the wind that would come to blow the dust away. And so I began to envision a darkness that was long before the dark of night, and a strangely shining light that owed nothing to the light of day.
That day may seem like other days. Once more we feel the tiny legged trepedations, once more we are mangled by a great grinding fear, but that day will have no others after. No more worlds like this will follow, because I have a plan. A very special plan. No more worlds like this... no more days like that.
"There are but four ways to die", a sardonic spirit might have said to me.
"There is dying that occurs relatively suddenly, there is dying that occurs relatively gradually, there is dying that occurs relatively painlessly, there is the death that is full of pain. Thus by various means they are combined, the sudden and the gradual, the painless and the painful, to yield but four ways to die... and there are no others."
Even after the voice stopped speaking I listened for it to speak again. After hours and days and years had passed, I listened for some further words. And yet all I heard were the faintest echoes remind me "there are no others... there are no others...". Was it then that I began to concieve for this world a special plan?
There are no means for escaping this world that penetrates even into your sleep, and is its substance. You are caught in your own dreaming where there is no space, and are held forever where there is no time. You can do nothing you are not told to do. There is no hope for escape from this dream, that was never yours. The very words you speak are only its very words, and yout talk like a traitor under its incessant torture.
There are many who have designs upon this world and dream of wild and vast reformations. I have heard them talking in their sleep of elegant mutations and cunning annihliations. I have heard them whispering in the corners of crooked houses, and in the alleys and narrow backstreets of this crooked creaking universe. Which they, with their new designs, would make straight and sound. But each of these new and ill concieved designs is deranged in its heart, for they see this world as if it were alone and original... and not as one of only countless others whose nightmares all proceed as a hideous garden grown from a single seed. I have heard these dreamers talking in their sleep, and I stand waiting for them as at the top of a darkened flight of stairs. They know nothing of me, and know none of the secrets of my special plan... while I know every crooked creaking step of theirs.
It was the voice of someone who was waiting in the shadows, who was looking at the moon and waiting for me to turn the corner and enter a narrow street, and stand with him in the dull gaze of moonlight. Then he said to me, he whisphered, that my plan was a mistake. That my special plan for this world was a terrible mistake.
"because," he said, "there is nothing to do and there is no where to go, there is nothing to be and no one to know."
"your plan is a mistake", he repeated.
"This world is a mistake", I replied
The children always laughed at him, when they saw him hopping by. A funny walk, a funny man. A funny funny funny man. He made them laugh sometimes, he made them laugh oh yes he did he did he did he did he did. Oh how he made them roll. One day he took them to a place he knew, a special place, and told them things about world... this funny funny funny world, which made them laugh sometimes. He made them laugh, oh yes, he did he did he did he did. Oh how he made them roll. Then the funny man who made them laugh, sometimes he did, revealed to them his special plan his very special funny plan. Knowing they would understand and maybe laugh sometimes. He made them laugh, oh yes he did he did he did he did, their eyes grew wide beneath their lids... and how he made them roll.
I first learned the facts from a lunatic in a dark and quiet room that smelled of stale time/space.
"There are no people, nothing at all like that. The human phenomenon is but the sum of densly coiled layers of illusion each of which winds itself upon the supreme insanity that there are persons of any kind, when all there can be are mindless mirrors laughing and screaming as they parade about in an endless dream."
But when I asked the lunatic what it was that saw itself within these mirrors, he only rocked and smiled, then he laughed and screamed and in his dark and empty eyes I saw for a moment, as if in a mirror, a formless shade of divinity in flight from its stale infinity of time and space, and the worst of all of this worlds dreams. My special plan for the laughter and the screams.
We went to see a little show that was staged in an old shed past the edge of town, and in its beginnings all seemed well. The miniature curtain stage glowed in the darkness while those dulls bounced along on their strings before our eyes. And in its beginnings all seemed well, but then there came a subtle turning point, which some had noticed and I was one... and quietly left the show, though I did not because I could see where things were going. As they antics of those dulls grew strange, and the tiny strings grew taught with the tiny pullings of tiny limbs. I wanted to witness what could never be, I wanted to see what could not be seen... the moment of consumate disaster when puppets turn to face the puppet master.
It was twilight and I stood in the greyish haze of a vast and empty building, when the silence was enriched by a revurberant voice.
"All of the things of this world", it said, "are of but one essence for which there are no words. This is the greater part which has no beginning nor end, and the one essence of this world for which there can be no words is but all the things of this world. This is the lesser part which has a beginning and shall have an end, and for which words were concieved solely to speak of."
" The tiny broken beings of this world, " it said
"The beginnings and endings of this world, " it said
"for which words were concieved solely to speak of. Now removed these words and what remains?" It asked me as I stood in the twilight of that vast empty building, but I did not answer. The question echoed over and over, but I remained silent until the echoes died. And as twilight passed into evening, I felt my special plan for which there are no words, moving towards a greater darkness.
There are some that have no voices, or none that will ever speak, because the things they know about this wold ,
because the things they feel about this world ,
because the thoughts that fill a brain that is a damaged brain,
because the pain that fills a body that is a damaged body,
exist in other worlds, countless other worlds. Each of which stands alone in an infinite empty blackness for which no words have been concieved and where no voices are able to speak. When a brain is filled only with damaged thoughts, when a damaged body is filled only with pain, and stands alone in a world surrounded by infinite empty blackness and exists in a world for which there is no special plan.
(weird)
When everyone you have ever loved is finally gone. When everything you have ever wanted is finally done with. When all of your nightmares are for a time obscured as by a shining brainless beacon, or a blinding eclipse of the many terrible shapes of this world. When you are calm and joyful and finally entirely alone, then in a great new darkness you will finally execute your special plan.
(weirder)
When everyone you have ever loved is finally gone. When everything you have ever wanted is finally done with. When all of your nightmares are for a time obscured as by a shining brainless beacon, or a blinding eclipse of the many terrible shapes of this world. When you are calm and joyful and finally entirely alone, then in a great new darkness you will finally execute your special plan.
Quote from: The Good Reverend RogerQuote from: MapleManBut the way people aproach things is based on both there situation and who they are neither of whitch they choose, now you might claim that they do choose who they are and they do choose there situation, but those choices all stem from there situation and themselves, which stem's from there situation and themselves, and so on and so forth.
No offense, but...RUBBISH! (John Cleese voice) We are all motivated by the same basic drives...however, how we respond to those drives is entirely a matter of choice. We have drives, not instincts. Instincts cannot be disobeyed, drives can.
Otherwise, the entire human population would act just like Hitler.
Quote from: MapleManWere all motivated by the same things when it comes down to it, nobody is a monster none of those you named are exceptions.
Quote from: The Good Reverend RogerQuote from: MapleManI dont think sadam is any more evil or a monster than any one of us... i iknow im gonna be accused of naievity (sp) etc but wth i just dont think anyone is...
Oh, monsters exist, all right. Hitler, Mussolini, Tojo, Hussien...they're out there. The problem is, SH hasn't attacked us, and who made us the world's cop?
We have problems of our own.
Quote from: MapleManI dont think sadam is any more evil or a monster than any one of us... i iknow im gonna be accused of naievity (sp) etc but wth i just dont think anyone is...
Quote from: The Good Reverend RogerQuote from: ZombieZombieZombieI just think its stupid that the US is trying to delude itself into thinking its some kind of moral/ethical authority. Its not, nor does it need to be.
Are you suggesting that we have all the authority we need because we CAN?