new text document, i presume

Desperation reeks. The cookie crumbles in your hand, the chocolate melts in your mouth. There’s lust involved, minimal, but apparent. They’re obstinate; but so are you. Surely, this is where the two meet and collide, alas, there is no microcosm of life as a result of the inherent destruction.

Egregious as it may eventually seem, the sparks involved are futile. Little can be uttered, even less done. The ship has sailed, and was followed by a myriad of such assorted cliches pertaining to the loss of an opportunity.

But to whom do we owe this displeasure? To whom do we owe this temporary surge of abhorrence? Blithly followed, but in what despondent galaxy? To the gods of ancient Greece we pray, but what is to be obtained? And do prayers suffice, to your lord; whoever he may be?

In affliction so we shall sink, draped in melancholy we will sing, awashed with despair we shall become the bete noire!

Question not, everything that is sullen shall be reincarnate one special day. That is the way of the universe, the way of life. But is the earthly presence of purgatory far more apt? Dante! Explain!

There’s blood on the walls, there’s blood on the walls, there’s blood on the walls, there’s blood on the walls! It’s my blood meshed with yours, and yours. Not her’s though, she’s been nice throughout. It’s still our blood, always shall be. The walls will be tainted and they will be stained, the rank smell of the reddened walls shall conquer and portray, they’ll evoke and they’ll be lacerated with the bellowing screams of me and my children. They’ll give way to life, to termites and to bacteria, to creatures of the night and those fucking little bugs. Death to them, to appease me. Simply, and surely; to appease me.

There are mingled skies, the endless wastes of humanity crouch under from under its respective hell-holes, self made and self appointed. Urbane empires of a deceased people, ripe to enjoy and ripe for rape. A managed schism, this is the distaste they brewed, now served on streets and cafes. Empty claims and rhetoric bouncing off their concrete jungles.

Inept are we! Inept are we! Inept are we! So Manson controlled, Gein ate and Bundy raped.

We’re exhorted, thrust into the light expected to repent. But what of repentance itself? This cavalcade of what can only be described on occasions as bullshit must be thrust back forth into their unwilling minds. And then what? Penance?

Cramped under a table, providing the only cover from the deluge of insanity that moonlights as intelligence; is this it?

But it’s their fault. Playground tactics ahoy! That’s where we’re made, where we’re defined. Our lives, our minds, right in the sandbox. Not on the slide, but in the sandbox. The Bulge to our battle.

And we lie unconscious and unprepared. A knife to the back and a push is all.

The seas will take care, the waves will devour. It’s their life, their job.

Onwards to hell, now.

Red House Painters – Ocean Beach

I’ve been listening to this album of late and all i can say is that Mark Kozelek is an absolutely immense songwriter.

This was the album that paved the way for a more complete instrumention on the albums as opposed to the long droning epics of the three previous releases (down colourful hill and the two self-titled releases). The material still contains lots of melancholia, despair and intermittent nostalgia. Kozelek’s interest in juxtaposing acoustic guitars with electric to form a rather varied and almost spacey sonic landscape paid off and ultimately it offers subtle compliments to his wonderful voice.

His melodies are still fantastic and his delivery is enveloped with emotion, often backed up by some wonderful string work. Its also impressive how he doesn’t need a tonne of reverb to masquerade his voice as ‘haunting’. Though it might seem as if he’s intentionally duping the listener into a more sympathetic manner, that’s hardly the case because the melancholia doesn’t seem forced nor does it carry through with minor key chords pummelling you into submission.

His lyrics are still straightforward and he tells stories like he sees, often acting as the narrator himself rather than creating a persona and portraying that through his songs. Though there are many artists who put themselves on the line, few of them do so eloquently as Kozelek.

Although he treads a fine line between the “slowcore” genre that he was instrumental in forming and between his more alt-country leanings of late, Ocean Beach never falls into the generic trappings of either genre.

LOLXOR

This I really find amusing…

Dr. Zakir Naik once said on the telly that pigs are the most vile creatures on Earth, that after they eat they invite others to ‘mate’ with their own partners. Swinging pigs, if you will.

He then went on to say that the decadent West suffers from eating pigs, because they, as a result of munching on pork, inhabit some of the characteristics of pigs themselves. Which one, I hear you ask? Well ofcourse the one about swinging!

You see, if pigs let others fuck their mates and humans do the same, then there’s a direct scientific correlation between their behaviour.

Interesting.

On the other end of this rather colourful (and not really harmless) spectrum we have a guy named Ali Sina, an ex-muslim whose decided to wage war on the faith. Now, i’ll let go the more orthodox and mundane arguments about how people like that push on others the same was as missionaries do and get to an interesting quote; or a story about/regarding his quote(unfortunately, I don’t have the quote verbatim because I can’t find the link to the story).

After the Paris riots of last year, which was erringly or unerringly ascertained to be the work misguided and poverty striken muslim youths (or immigrants in general), Ali Sina came out and said that these weren’t because they lived in strife and on the outskirts of Parisian society, but because the muslims are waging a war and this is this first step to conquer ALL of mighty Europe!

Interesting…

Notice any similarites between the two lovely demagogues?

TV On The Radio – Wolf Life Me

listening to: Stars – In Our Bedroom After The War

Apparently my dad never even sent the visa application papers. Upon finding out when I had a semi-go at my mother over the whole deal she replied that she always told my dad the correct money figures. My dad, on the other hand, tells me that no such discussions ever took place. Cue me basically telling my parents they need to stop acting like a bunch of 12 year olds and assume some fucking responsbility :S

Anyway, bottom line is that i’m fucked, and have no real avenues left. I’m left with wasting another year, going to a shitty school, or basically switching to something else (i.e Accounting and Finance/Economics).

I had so many options if only they’d have told me back in January/Feb, now i’m essentially tied to a chair with no room for movement.

Football’s finally starting, and United’s just signed Tevez aswell. Harg, Tevez, Nani, Anderson; 4 signings out of which 2 are tried and tested (Tevez not so much), and two with massive amounts of potential. Personally I think Nani will settle in far more easily then Anderson but lets see.

This new Stars album is quite good too. Lyrics and all are a bit superficial, and by virtue of that some of the songs carry that taste with them, but more or less the songs are quite endearing and almost gorgeous based on melodies and all.