I don't really know... Cartoons...

It's like in one of those old cartoons. When the character, in a feeble attempt to avert an imminent flood, shoves a cork into the tap in order to stop the water coming out. The metal starts to deform and balloon like a strip of thin elastic rubber, before, inevitably it bursts and fills the house up in an instant, breaking open the door, spraying out the windows. Or, I hope it's not like that, actually. Since I'll be the one doing the bursting. And the bursting will refer to my brain. And I don't really want my brain to burst, before I can make or create anything of any significance. The water, in this analogy, is my creativity. And the tap, albeit the completely malfunctioning one, serves as my creative tools. Or the shelf of my creative tools. The body, if you will. But wait... In my original analogy the tap bursting symbolised my brain bursting. Okay, an ordinary, real tap is my physical body and the one in the cartoon, the completely unrealistic, ballooning out one is my mental, non-physical body. They're both technically the same tap, but one exists outside reality and one exists. Detracting from my own point, yes. The cork is in. And, sometimes, I fear it'll always be there. For as long as I can remember, the flood has been trying to happen. But the water just keeps building up. Maybe it's the fact that my tap is so corroded, compared to other people. I'm not using that as an excuse, but I think I have a legitimate claim to bring it up. Mostly because I don't think it's helped matters. First, let's talk about the brain. Or the division of the brain. Between left and right. Trying to think logically about how to go about creating artistic things, really defeats the purpose of being creatively passionate. Those sides are supposed to be mutually exclusive, but, alas, I can't work like that. Me. I'm not talking about disabled people in general, as there are rather a lot of disabled artists. I don't really have the energy to think logically about how I'm going to create something. I can do one or the other, but the necessity of having to work out how to facilitate the creative process is too much... Is that the cork? Nah, that'd be far too easy. But water building up like that does tend to have it's stresses on the tap, both physical and non-physical. Maybe my cartoon one's completely inflated, like a bladder after 10 pints without a piss... I'm trying to say what I think from now on. The first analogy that springs to mind, instead of the next, more socially acceptable analogy. Sometimes it feels that way. I envy people who don't have to pass an initial test in order to unleash their creative water. They can just let it all spray and flow all over the canvas or the sketchpad, the digital CCD or actual photographic film, without having to wonder how to set things up to make that possible. Hold the camera up to properly catch the sunlight that illuminates your chosen subject. You don't really have to set it up, just intuite the proper set up (if you're artistic enough) and orient yourself to do it. It's annoying. Having to think around it. That often drains all the energy that might have gone to removing the cork. Am I making any sense? No I don't much think I am...The energy and enthusiasm that I muster up to tackle the problem of not being all that creative, always seems to be squandered on the lead up to it, and never on the creativity itself. A few exceptions, mostly all of which have been for my lady (we've talked it through and she's okay with that title), but nowhere near as much as I'd like to have under my belt. I'm not really complaining (but I really, really am), but it's an idea I've been unable to shake off recently... That's why I felt the urge to write this meandering thing...

I've started watching Six Feet Under. I don't know why it took me so long to start, as it seems to be right up my alley, but so far it's better than I thought it would be. Something about death is just unbelievably fascinating... And that's with an atheist viewpoint, one of becoming worm food afterwards. However, this is a television program. And death is only really a side/after-thought. Well it's technically a primary plot point, but it's dealt with only briefly, as it tends to follow living characters most of the time. And, in typical HBO fashion, it's brilliantly interesting. Just the right dose of freaky weirdos trying not to fit in. Which is somebody I'd like to be one day, if I can shed this skin of caring about what people think... Well, by that I mean people I don't like or know. The unimportant type of people. I could dance around it a bit more (figuratively, of course), but what's the point. I don't like a lot of people. For whatever reason. Until I know them, I suppose. Maybe it's the sheer amount of differences that have marred my personability with other people. Or the fact that I'm grumpy. Maybe I don't really not like people. Maybe it's just that people are intricately tied into things I don't like, so the not-liking (since hatred is a bit extreme) follows logically...I really like Six Feet Under, mainly because of how deadpan it is. Pun intended. The intro for instance is absolutely hilarious (most of the time). Horrible, yes, but funny. You can't help but stifle a chuckle (except for the particularly shitty deaths), at how terribly and unfairly peoples' lives tend to end. Perhaps it's the dark shadow of melancholy and grumpy air, the same that influences my music (evil laugh from Track 2 (Loke) off the Enslaved album, Frost. Skip forward to 4:00 if you don't like black metal vocals, to hear the evil laugh), that makes it so fascinating. How life can be so fleeting. Or something that doesn't sound melodramatic.



I think I need to start taking arsehole lessons. Because, to a certain extent, confidence requires the user to be kind of rude and stand-offish. The people who strike you as confident always tend to have a little edge to how they talk about people. Or to people. Or how they even talk about things they're passionate about. I'm not confident, when it comes to doing things outside typing. My physical presence tends to be somewhat diminished, compared to my typing self. But that's not really relevant. That's why I've been trying to express my opinion a little more coherently than I have in the past. Believe it or not, I think that type of anger helps. Helps one, me in this case, to develop a complex web of actual opinion... I'm rather angry about certain things (religion, some aspects of music, most MILITARY ACTION) and because of that, I tend to be more interested in forming an opinion about those subjects. Sure, it does lead me to develop a somewhat one-sided opinion, but the other side, the one I don't necessarily agree with, can wait until a later date... Or, if I'm feeling lazy, not at all. Maybe one day I'll compile all those arguments into something digestable. All my opinions on religion, music, people, death and 'life', which is rarely good... Manifesto (I'm borrowing from Marx, though the word has been used for many, many other things) is a bit strong, but meh... Melodrama seems to be a common theme with society these days...

Why not try this again...

Consider this part of a rebalancing act. A new plateau, or something like that. Up on a few topics, down on some other ones. Alright, I'll do new music. I get black metal now. Before this whole thing (whatever 'thing' refers to...) I kind of put up with the extreme vocals without really understanding the need for it. And I figured a way aound not being able to understand it. Now, if I want to listen to a black metal album, I read the accompanying lyrics at the same time. Because without understanding the music, how are you supposed to fully experience the depths of melancholy and general distastefulness? Where's the sense of doom and dread, of fear and sadness that it's supposed to bring out. The music's only on half of it. Well, it's probably the bigger half (which means it's technically not a half). Something about a voice that sounds like it can strip paint really fits in with the mood that accompanies wanting to listen to black metal. People seem to think that liking music you can't grin while listening to and being nice are mutually exclusive qualities. And to be quite honest, I don't really care. But see, here's the thing. I don't really know whether people think like that or not. Or are thinking like that. Isn't that a bit weird? But it's what I think that other people must be thinking, mainly from their attitudes. But that's only a tiny bit. Nobody's ever come out and said that the music I listen to is shite (apart from my sister). This is just my insight into what they might be thinking beneath their passive facade. But maybe their passive facade isn't really a facade? Maybe that's what they feel like the whole time. Just in a delirious state of happiness the whole time... Maybe I think other people have a facade because of the fact that I do. Maybe beneath the glossy exterior is a glossy interior. How fucking funny would that be. Constructing all these elaborate theories about what people are really thinking, when really there's nothing to theorise about. Maybe it's the way I'm wired. Because if I didn't come up with this shit then how would I weave my web of thoughts on how capitalist society is eating away at the essential misery that everyone's supposed to have buried in their heads. As the bastards at Vodafone said this Xmas: 'Give someone the gift of happiness this year'. The gift of happiness. Are you fucking serious. I think that emphasises my point exactly.

Money, money, money, money, money. The cure to all the ails and ills of everyone. Yes, everyone wants to be rid of the dark, dreary, depressing demons that just seem to add an edge to stuff when you really don't want it to. But you can't get rid of it. Okay, some people don't seem to hear it as much as other people, but I'm convinced that it's embedded inside everyone. Why else would so many musicians focus on how miserable life is. Money and consumerism offer the way out. The way of finally shrugging off the gnawing voice and ridding yourself of all the negative things. But it doesn't work, now does it. If it did then we'd surely be living in a crime free utopia where people aren't greedy and don't feel the need to hoard as much useless crap as they can. If it really did kill the clawing monkey, then why would people still want more. Surely they'd be the most generous person in existence, because their soul is pure and they have no malice, no drive to place themselves in a higher position than somebody else. But it does the exact opposite. Enron anyone? Sale of indulgences? You get my drift. Selling redemption, securing a place in heaven, all for just a few coins. Or a lot of coins. Or your entire life savings. But nowadays, when people aren't as religious as they once were, there's a new, secular variation. It's not a place in heaven, but the chance to be above the dark part of the human psyche. As if humans are any better than animals.With evolution, you don't just toss the old parts of the brain, they're still there, just hidden under some funny parlour tricks. Like talking, that type of thing. You think you can be out of reach of the ancient part of your brain that wants to disembowel any person who looks at you funny? Obviously it'd take a hell of a lot to bring that bit up to the surface, but it is still there. It might be far smaller and far more hidden than it was 250,000 years ago, but just because humans have pride doesn't mean they're anything other than tamed savages. I don't like the way the Bible says that people have been given 'dominion over animals'. It reinforces the idea that humans *engage uppity accent* couldn't POSSIBLY be in the same class as those filthy, disgusting brutes. Actually, this is another argument altogether. This is one side of the 'why people are arseholes' coin. Though I don't know... In certain ways humans are far, far, far beyond animals. As seen by how emotionally disturbed some people can be. Feeling physical pain from things that are purely a product of your mind. Things your brain have fabricated from nothing. Poetry, music, writing in general. All from nothing. Well nothing that's quantifiable at the minute anyway. With those things called emotions, every person is laden down with a dark side they can't get rid of. And, to be totally honest, not having it would be weird. I don't think people are complete. Finished evolving. All the twisted sides that people seem to have to their personalities, all the misery and depression that's still rampant. Because the ancient, uncontrollable parts of the brain haven't been fully integrated. Ever so gently, the square shape is being sanded down to fit properly into the circular hole, but that's still a long way away. Maybe when the planet's doomed to an icy death, after the banks are bailed out for the 20th time, after people finally punish the CEO's of all the Fortune 500 companies for being greedy, over-zealous bastards, when cancer becomes an anecdotal inconvenience and people finally realise how pretentious Apple products are...... You know the way people who are deliriously happy the whole time just piss you off? That's someone who's pretending they've beaten the beast. I bet people like that are the most twisted of all. They get some masochistic thrill from putting themselves through the torture of keeping it all inside, then act like psychos in the safety of solitude. Debauched psychos. One particular example springs to mind............... Five seconds pause to guess where that was aimed. Catholic church, for the one's who didn't cop that. Do NOT get me started on that. They thought they were above the all-encompassing dark shadow. Beyond reproach. Okay, not everyone, but a ridiculously huge amount of priests. Since I last wrote a blog my atheism has shot up several gears. Or the drive to not try and hide it, I should say. To exorcise the truth from the bones of the me who tried at religion. The wailing ghost who's screams haunt every person who hears them. One whisper of it reaches your ears and the ancient voices of the animals you've evolved from scream in your head, chewing up and dissolving the rational, sane person you once were. Or some such shite. Spouting crap like that at random is what black metal's all about. As of the past month or so I've been on a massive Bathory kick. Not so much their earlier black metal, more their later viking days. See, this started out as a music blog, but I got side-tracked. Sound familiar? Yup, same old. 'cept I might post this to FB too... Aim the hateful explosion at more innocent bystanders...