A Lucy Nation

Incitacion a una decapitación

2007-12-30T21:18:00.000-04:00

Este es mi regalo para ustedes en esta ocasión tan especial del año. Lo mas bello y valioso que puedo ofrecerles. Mis palabras, mis historias. El pedazo de mi cerebro que desde niño me pedian.

A algunos de ustedes les parecera una mariquera este email. Sobretodo viniendo de mí, ajaja. Quizá no lo entiendan pero no importa, siempre nos llegan cadenas con saludos amistosos y vaina, pero no me tomo nunca la molestia de reenviarlas a menos de que sea una vaina bien de pinga. Hoy simplemente decidí aprovechar estas celebraciones del año para escribirles un sentido saludo a la gente que he conocido jeje.

Con la mayoría de ustedes no he tratado mucho (con alguno que otro ni siquiera he tratado directamente). No nos conocemos mucho tampoco y quizá no hemos compartido mucho. Pero hemos compartido y eso es lo que a mi me importa. Usteden saben que yo estoy medio loco, y le doy mucho valor a las cosas. Muchos de ustedes no se imaginan cuanto significan para mi, aún aquellos de los que no necesariamente tengo una buena opinión. Pero lo que una persona es, es independiente de lo que significa en tu vida.

Yo nunca me he sentido como 'aquí pertenezco, estoy entre los míos', y la gente tampoco me percibe mucho como perteneciente a su clica. Tranquilos, siempre ha sido así, soy extraño de nacimiento y es para mí una gran fortuna (sí, también tiene sus malas vainas pero tengo el masoquismo y visión suficientes para tripearmelas la mayor parte del tiempo). En cuanto a ustedes, no sé que opinión tendrán unos u otros de mí, puede ser buena o no tanto, pero eso es irrelevante en lo que concierne a esta carta. Les escribo porque me los tripeo. Son tan parte de mi historia como yo lo soy de las suyas, y eso es un lazo tan fuerte, tan irrompible, que no creo que pueda deshacerse. Amig@s o traidores, simples conocid@s o amantes, adoradores o detractores, estamos en este peo juntos, aunque cada quien esté en su peo a la vez.

Tengo recuerdos de cada uno de ustedes ¿se dan cuenta de lo arrecho que es eso? Dicho de otra manera diría que existe almacenada en algun lugar de mi mente y mi cerebro una imagen (o más) de ustedes asociada(s) a diversos instantes de realidad que compartimos. Hemos disfrutado, hemos maltripeado, whatever... hemos compartido.

Quizá precisamente por mi extrañeza es que aprecio tanto el compartir con la gente (con todo lo hermitaño que soy) porque aunque como dije, nunca me siento entre los mios, y admito que muchas veces la gente que me rodea no me inspira sentimientos gratos, el mero encuentro con otra mente es algo tan peculiar (podría decir psicótico y estupendo, pero sería muy ambiguo y perturbador) para mí, que es para tripearmelo; y como es poco lo que logro realmente compartir con otros, lo poco que comparto con otros lo disfruto bastante, así sea una tontería.

Es por eso que decidí escribirles sin importar si somos muy cercanos o apenas hemos cruzado palabra. Es una cuestion meramente de un ser humano en reunion con otros, mostrando un poco de como es por dentro a otros. Cada quien tome de la experiencia lo que pueda y quiera. Para algunos esta carta puede ser nula, o bien puede ser perturbadora, reflexiva, conmovedora, o cursi. Eso se debe en gran parte a que ustedes son un grupo conformado por personas distintas con distintas percepciones del mundo y por lo tanto de mi. Y eso es lo curioso porque si cada persona es percibida de manera distinta por distintas personas, es porque lo que percibimos no es necesariamente quien es esa persona, sino nuestra relacion con ella. Este es mi pana, esta es mi jeva, este es el culo que me estoy tirando (o que me quiero tirar), este es el doctor que me está atendiendo, el indigente tirado en el piso muriendose y obstaculizando mi paso, el profesor que me está dando clases, el jefe que me está pagando (y ladillando), el cabron que de vaina hace que me choque, mi abuela, mis primos, el protagonista de la novela de las 9 del canal 666, juan pablo II, cristobal colón, jesu cristo, hitler, cantinflas. Somos personas, que significa literalmente mascaras. Y en ese nivel es que normalmente nos manejamos. De alguna manera caemos en eso de que 'nadie conoce a nadie', no porque las mascaras con las que nos identificamos no sean reales, sino porque son meros roles. La persona verdadera está intimamente oculta, en la conciencia de cada uno de nosotros. Es algo así como una morrocoya. Quizá por eso resulta tan perturbador cuando alguien se muestra más allá de su rol, porque yo tambien me sentiría perturbado si viese una morrocoya fuera de su caparazón. ¿Pueden imaginarse como se siente una morrocoya sin caparazon? Es como si no tuvieramos piel sino todos los musculos y venas expuestos. Es como para lanzarse en una piscina de alcohol.

En fin, solo me queda por decirles que se les aprecia, y desearles una gran travesía. Espero volver a compartir con ustedes alguna vez.

Gracias, y hasta la próxima.

Abraham C.
Ciudad, XXXI dec, 3141592653589793238462643383279517688832838 A.T.

Abraham envió su último correo desde el pequeño terminal provisto para tal fin. Se levantó, caminó hasta la guillotina y puso su cabeza en el marco. Mientras la guillotina descendía, despertaba en su mente un recuerdo muy lejano, su primer recuerdo, el día más hermoso y feliz de su vida, a partir del cual empezó a tener memoria. Pero justo cuando lo iba a recordar con claridad, la guillotina sesgó su cuello y en sus últimos instantes solo vio como el mundo giraba y giraba y se acercaba cada vez más hacia su rostro hasta golpearlo violentamente. Como era costumbre en las celebraciones de estas fechas, los niños se turnaban pateando la cabeza del psicópata ejecutado a ver quién la llegaba más lejos. El ganador era paseado en hombros por Ciudad, y tendría un año lleno de salud y abundancia.

FIN

Escrito por Jacob Noriega, el 30 de diciembre de 2007, como obsequio a toda la humanidad y muy especialmente a aquellos que estan en su mente. Muchísimas gracias, sin ustedes este pequeño cuento no existiría.

El título, es en homenaje a la novela "Invitacion a una decapitación", escrita por Vladimir Nabokov. Aunque no la he leído, quise escribir esto inspirado en lo único que conozco sobre ella, el título.

A la mierda (Echando a los mercaderes del templo para inmolarse con un striptease)

2007-05-09T01:46:00.000-04:00

Mandar todo a la mierda. ¿Alguna vez lo has hecho?

No. Si estás leyendo esto, no has mandado todo a la mierda.

Yo he querido hacerlo, pero como tú, soy un adicto. Y aún hay gente que me pregunta como sé que no moriré todavía.

Pero ahorita, quiero mandar varias cosas a la mierda. De hecho, me provoca volver a mi cueva, o incluso, irme a la Cueva Eterna.

A ti, a tu lloriquera, a tu lamentadera, tus berrinches, los quiero mandar a la mierda. Para ti no hay vida despues del amor. Y todo te lo haces a ti misma. No, no culpes a mas nadie. Eres adicta a tu tormento. En el fondo te gusta. Lo digo porque lo he vivido. Cada ladrón juzga por su condición. Y lo siento, sabes. No diré que trato de hacer el menor daño posible, porque aunque lo intento, no creo en eso, la experiencia me dice que no es necesariamente lo mejor. Quise hacerte un daño. Sí. Con la intención de que reaccionaras coño, no de que te hundieras más. Pero ya eso queda de tu parte. Tampoco soy quien para lanzarte la primera piedra. ¿o ya lo hice? Pero así como mando a la mierda todas esas cosas, quiero que sepas que si hubiese podido ser distinto, si hubiese podido salir mejor, me hubiese gustado. Pero algunas historias son escritas así, retorcidas (y tu yo bien sabemos eso, amiga mía). Y aunque quizá no valga nada para tí, deseo pedirte disculpas por... por ser tan torpe. Sé que aparentemente falté a varias de mis promesas. A todos nos pasa. Supongo que somos más humanos de lo que nos gustaría. Pero no mentía. Decía lo que mi ser me decía que dijera. Y cuando me dijo que dijera lo contrario, también lo dije. Gracias por todo, de corazón. Tú llegaste hasta donde nadie más llegó. Y tu eres la única persona a quien le he dado lo que te di. Y no fue un dar por dar, porque estabas allí. Te lo dí porque lo merecías. Te lo dí porque lo anhelabas. Te lo dí porque lo pediste. Darte más, no estaba en mí. Además ¿Para qué querías más dolor? Ya tienes suficiente.

Ahora a tí. A tu arrechera contra todo, tu eterna insatisfacción, tu intento de cinismo, de antiparabolismo, cuando en realidad no puedes moverte en ninguna dirección sin que te duela, tambien los mando a la mierda. No me malinterpretes, sabes que hay facetas tuyas que desprecio profundamente, pero sabes que hay otras que valoro, o no hablaría contigo en los términos en que hablamos. Prueba otras caras tú también. Pero a ti tampoco te puedo lanzar la primera piedra.

A tí, coño, tu orgullo. El orgullo hace a la gente actuar o como víctimas o como sobrados, y las dos son actitudes poco inteligentes. Y no es que yo carezca de actitudes poco inteligentes, ajajaj. Tengo facetas bastante torpes. Pero que coño ¿quien no las tiene? ¿Quien va a tirar la primera piedra?

A ti, simplemente te mando a la mierda. Por desinteresado.

A ti, amigo mio. Sabes que de ti paso todo, pero vamos a estar claros, sabes que hay vainas tuyas que me sacan la piedra. Te gusta mucho la tierra de Cucaña, y eso te debilita. Te resta carácter. Y no seré yo quien mandé eso a la mierda. Eso te lo dejo a ti.

A los que no menciono aquí, no se sientan ofendidos. La lista es larga y tampoco es la idea ponerme de San Nicolás.

Pero falta alguien, la persona a le que tengo más mierda que mandarle a la mierda.

Yo. :)

En "El Silencio de los Inocentes" cuando el Dr. Lecter le hace un "rápido análisis" a Clarice, ésta le contesta algo así como "¿es usted capaz de enfocar tan aguda percepción hacia usted mismo?"
. Siempre me da risa esa parte. ¿Ustedes que creen? ¿Es Clarice ingenua al hacer esa pregunta? ¿O sabe muy bien la respuesta y simplemente responde con el mejor golpe que puede dar?

Yo. Yo tambien tengo mi adicción. Mis berrinches. Tambien soy mucho más vulnerable de lo que admito. ¿Con actitudes poco inteligentes? Aquí entre nos, yo creo que nadie ha logrado ver las cosas que yo he visto. Y esto me hace sentirme superior en cierta forma. Pero muchas veces me siento casi autista, y siento que hay cosas que cualquiera vería que yo no logro ver. O que logro ver despues de un lapso de tiempo que me parece ridículo. Pero quizá eso nos pasa a todos. Igual, eso demuestra que quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus, y que tengo mi talón de Aquiles también. ¿Carácter? Todavía me falta que jode. Me toca mandareso a la mierda a mi tambien. Y muchas cosas más. Algunas ustedes las saben. Otras ya las dije si no las sabían. Del resto se enterarán si deben enterarse. Como por ejemplo, de que soy un snob. Pero recuerden que lo cortés no quita lo valiente y no porque el gato ladre deja de ser gato. O sea, no caigan en falacias ad hominen.

¿Saben que puede resultar extremadamente placentero? No, no hablaba de eso. El momento cuando terminas de vomitar y sientes una paz corporal y espiritual incomparable. Eso sí, recuerda que si vomitaste algo, es porque estuvo dentro de ti.

Soy un espejo. Si me ves, ¿me rompo?

Close encounters of the Pird Kind

2007-01-22T16:01:00.000-04:00

It was a long time ago, some day in my future. I was in a journey with my friends Me and me, the twins. We were part of a scientific research that tried to solve the mystery about the alleged existence of ancient dog-like, three-headed creatures known as Serbearers. It was our task to find physical evidence of it, with luck, a fossil. Our excavation was located in a dessert land unknown as Time; a remote region that has never appeared in any map yet has always existed. It's thought that it has been always uninhabited, because of its extremely harsh conditions and the lack of any life signals, and also there were legends that told the land was cursed. However, all evidence indicated that against all odds, if such creatures as the Serbearers ever existed, it had been there. But what we found digging under the heavy and slippery sands of Time was beyond our expectations. First, we found a big surface covered in white threads. To the touch, it felt like hair. We continued digging, and we could see a wall covered in a strange kind of black leather, with 4 strange symbols we couldn't understand, it seemed to be a word, maybe a name. As our excavation progressed, we could not believe what was being unveiled before our eyes, hidden under the sand. It was the giant effigy of a head, but it looked unbelievably real. It was not just the hair. The "leather" covering the wall (that was nothing but the forehead of the head) was actually human skin. Who could have made something like this? What kind of civilization created this "sculpture", so devotedly at our own image?

Our questions and conjectures were so many, and we needed so badly to know what knowledge and secrets were lying under these sands, that we never stopped until all the head was unveiled. The reason why we stopped digging wasn't that we were tired. Strangely enough, we were full of energy, more than ever in our lives, in spite of the hard work and haven't slept or eaten... we didn't know how long ago we had begun digging, time seemed not to exist in this land of Time. We stopped because there was nothing more than a head. Yes. Only dust, a giant head, Me, me and me. There it stood before us. The giant head of a man, of black skin and white hair, the eyes closed, as it was in the deepest slumber. The features were grotesque. Although young-like, looking at it you feel it was.. decrepit. It lips were thick and red, they looked bloody and that made me think of thousands human holocausts and blood, offered to appease this sort of deity. I was staring at this head, mesmerized, when a yelling of pain woke me up from the spell. It was me, and he suddenly looked amazingly haggard, the mark of a snakebite on his hand. A serpent? In this dead place? We looked around searching for it, but there was no sign of any snake in miles around. Or any other living being for that matter. Just the god head, Me, me and poor me, shrieking and twisting in agonizing pain. But something was different. "Do you notice that?" I asked Me. "you feel it too? like we're being watched?" Me said back at me. Then we heard a beautiful yet strange sound. It was more like a noise, and to our shock, it came from the head. The head was laughing. I turned around and saw its big white teeth, shining like diamonds. They were mirrors! I could see myself reflected in the giant teeth of the laughing mouth of a giant head. Was this a dream? I didn't remember falling asleep, and everything looked very real. Even the giant head. Especially the giant head. None of us moved. "Of course you're being watched" the head said, staring straight at us, with big reptilian red eyes. "I am watching you. I always have. Thanks for unearthing me, the sand of Time is very abrasive. Look what it did to my skin. It's totally black. It used to be as white as the most white you've never seen". "Thanks" it was me talking. I turned to see him. He wasn't in pain anymore. He looked quite good indeed. "Thank you for healing me. It was you, right? What bit me? We don't see any living creature here besides us... and you". "I did. I bit you and healed you too. I'm life and death, poison and cure, alpha and omega. I am the one who is". "Wait a minute" it was Me talking "are you saying you're God?". "No. I'm not saying it. I'm being it" the head answered. "You must have many questions. I can answer them. I will reveal the secrets of the Universe to you. Come inside me and you'll be fulfilled. But you must get in only one at the time. To know me, you must do it on your own. Alone. Just you and me".

You can be all the skeptical you want, but when you have a giant talking head telling you it's God and willing to share with you what humanity has been wanting to know since the Mind appeared on earth, wouldn't you be curious about it?

"I'll come in first", said me. "The head healed me, In the head I trust. I believe what it says. I know it's true. We're before the presence of God. This land isn't accursed. It's holy." The head opened his mouth open and stuck out a wet yellow tongue, like a carpet leading to a black cave. me stepped on it, and it took me inside the head, that swallowed him. He came out through one of the head's nostril. The expression on his face was one of indescribable terror. "NO! NO!! TEN THOUSAND TIMES NO!!" We were in shock. "What have you done to my brother, you freak?!" Me imprecated to the head. "I only answered his questions" said the head. Me took me in his arms, cupped his face between his hands "Hey brother, it's me, Me. Everything is fine. Please, me, listen to me. Whatever that thing has told you, don't believe it. It's a lie. A big lie. Let's get out of here, I'll take care of you as I have always done". "Get your hands off me! you're disgusting! I saw the truth! You are the only liar here. You hate me, Me. You've always hated me. And the worse is I'm just like you. We're just grotesque copies of each other! I HATE YOU! I HATE MYSELF! I HATE THE TRUTH AND THAT HEAD FOR SHOWING IT TO ME!". "Enough! How can you say that to me? We've lived so many things together. We've always loved each other, always looked after each other. We know each other as well as we know ourselves. Are you throwing all that to the garbage just because this thing told you it was a lie?! come on, man! what's wrong with you? Can't you listen to yourself?" "I didn't know myself. I do now. You don't know yourself either. But you're not the one to blame. Go inside the head. See what I saw, and you'll understand that I had to do this. Sorry, brother. I love you." Said this, me took his knife and cut open his throat. The blood gushed covering his and his brother's bodies. Me took the knife and ran towards the face, stabbing it in a furious attack, totally deranged. Each stab Me aimed into the head, filled the place with thousand of voices coming from the head's wounds. Voices, not blood, was the only thing that came out of it. "HURT!! HURTS!! STOP!!" I listened, and also "KILL ME!! KILL ME NOW PLEASE!!" then we listened me's voice "Come inside me, brother. I'm waiting for you". Me stopped in cold, dropped the knife. "I'm not gonna let you die, brother. I'll go inside this hell and bring you back. Hey freak! You'll answer my questions, any questions I have?" "I will. Gladly" said the head calmly. "Will you show me the secrets of life and death?" asked Me again. "I will. I'll show you anything you want me to" said the head, opening its cavernous mouth with mirror teeth again, swallowing Me. He came out through the head's second nostril.He was cackling like a madman. He rolled there laughing and laughing until he peed his pants. "Me, are you ok?" "ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahhhhh ahhhh ahh ahahahahahahahahaha ah ahahahaaaahhah" I tried to break him out of his laughter, to no avail. Finally he laughed so hard that he couldn't breath anymore and collapsed asphixiated besides his brother, with a silly grin on his face.

The head stood there before me, unaffected. Me and me dead bodies lying there, one at my left, the other at my right. I looked at the head and it looked back at me in silence. "Your turn" it finally said. "Will you come inside me like your friends did?". "They were not my friends, and you should know that. They were just grotesque copies of me. But I will come inside you too. I only want to ask you a favor before I do. Would you please smile for me? I want to see my reflection on your teeth one last time before I die". The head laughed back at me. "Oh my, of course I will smile for you" and with this, the head smiled at me showing its teeth. But its smile seemed more the menacing grin of a beast showing its fangs. Then I ran and threw myself against the teeth. Instead of breaking them, I stepped into the other side of the mirror, inside the head. "Good try, but you're inside me anyway" said the head inside my head. "Yes. Show me the secrets of the Universe" I replied. "Ok. Look through my eyes". I walked towards what looked like 2 round, red windows, and saw the world through God's eyes. "Nice view" I said. "Indeed" said the head. Then I said "But I don't see yet anything that I haven't seen before. Please, unveil to me the mysteries of your Creation". "What? What are you talking about? I'm showing you. Look! Behold my greatness! Behold the wonders of my Universe!" the head seemed desperate, confused, alarmed. For the first time since we found it, it showed some emotion. It was pathetic though. "Well, I've seen. But I still have one question. Can you look through my eyes, please. I need to show you what I see before asking you the question I want to ask you.". "Sure I can. But there's nothing you can show me that I haven't seen". "Please, I insist". "Ok" the head obliged "Let's see "the wonders through your eyes"". "Please, look at my smile, do you see your reflection on my teeth?" "Yes, I do" "I want to know, where is the rest of your body? You don't have one" "The rest ... of my body?" "Yeah, where is it? Do you have a body?" Everything went dark then, because the head closed its eyes. "I can't answer your question. I don't know... I'll let you go, but I'd like to ask you for a favor" "What's that?" "I want you to keep searching, and come back to me if you ever find my body.". "I will. Gladly" I said, then blood filled the head, and dragged me down as it was expelled through its third nostril. I stood up and looked at its face again. There was something different now, I could read the symbols on its forehead. It was my name. "Those symbols you see in my forehead -said the head- That's my name. Call it when you want to come to me". While it talked, I caught a glimpse of my own face on its teeth. It was black, with red eyes and bloody lips and white hair. I turned around and walked away calmly, leaving behind me the head, whose calm has been replaced for a bitter expression of horror and terrible anguish. And its face... I could see now that it was my face. All the time.

9150 abnormal ECG

2006-11-22T17:46:00.000-04:00

1100 Sinus rhythm
1970 with occasional ectopic premature complexes
40371 ST elevation,consistent with subepicardial
injury, pericarditis or early repolarization.

SPEED

2006-11-08T15:47:00.000-04:00

We're living so fast that we're not living at all. Life remains left behind.

A short horror story

2006-11-08T15:43:00.000-04:00

And the stranger said: "There is no turning back", as the man passed through the door to a realm of nothing but torment.

Some MM songs

2006-10-12T01:53:00.000-04:00

"MECHANICAL ANIMALS"

We were neurophobic and perfect
the day that we lost our souls
Maybe we weren't so human
But If we cry we will rust
And I was a hand grenade
That never stopped exploding
You were automatic and as hollow as the "o" in god

I am never gonna be the one for you
I am never gonna save the world from you
But they'll never be good for you
Or bad to you
They'll never be anything
Anything at all

You were my mechanical bride
You were phenobarbidoll
A manniqueen of depression
With the face of a dead star
And I was a hand grenade
That never stopped exploding
You were automatic and as hollow as the "o" in god

I am never gonna be the one for you
I am never gonna save the world from you
But they'll never be good for you
Or bad to you
They'll never be anything
Anything at all

This isn't me I'm not mechanical
I'm just a boy playing the suicide king

"APPLE OF SODOM"

I found the center of fruit is late,
It is the center of truth today,
Cut the apple in two,
Oh, I pray it isn't true,

I found the center of fruit is late,
Is the center of truth today,
I cut the apple in two,
Oh, I pray it isn't true,

I've got something you can never eat,
I've got something you can never eat,
I've got something you can never eat,
I've got something you can never eat,

I drained my heart and burn my soul,
I trained the core to stop my growth,
I pray to die in space,
To cover me in snow,
To cover me in snow,
Cover me in snow,
I'm dying, I hope you're dying too,
Cover me in snow,
I'm dying, I hope you're dying too
I'm dying, I hope you're dying too
I'm dying, I hope you're dying too
I'm dying, I hope you're dying too
I'm dying, I hope you're dying too
I'm dying, I hope you're dying too
I'm dying, I hope you're dying too
I'm dying, I hope you're dying too

Take this from me, (hate me, hate me,)
Take this from me, (hate me, hate me,)

1, 2, 3, he is a speed bump mannequin,
1, 2, 3, he can't move just stand still,
1, 2, 3, he is a speed bump mannequin,
1, 2, 3, he can't move just stand still,

I've got something you can never eat,
I've got something you can never eat,
I've got something you can never eat,
I've got something you can never, ever, eat.

"TOURNIQUET"

She's made of hair and bone and little teeth,
And things I cannot speak.
She comes on like a crippled plaything,
Spine is just a string.

I wrapped our love in all this foil,
Silver-tight like spider legs.
I never wanted it to ever spoil,
but flies will lay their eggs.

Take your hatred out on me,
Make your victim my head.
You never ever believed in me,
I am your tourniquet.

Prosthetic synthesis with butterfly,
Sealed up with virgin stitch.
If it hurts baby, please tell me,
Preserve the innocence.

I never wanted it to end like this,
But flies will lay their eggs

Take your hatred out on me,
Make your victim my head.
You never ever believed in me,
I am your tourniquet.

What I wanted.
What I needed.
What I got for me.

What I wanted.
What I needed.
What I got for me.

Take your hatred out on me,
Make your victim my head.
You never ever believed in me,
I am your tourniquet.

Take your, take your
hatred out on me
I'm not proud with me
I never ever believed in me
I am your tourniquet

Sour grapes and apples of sodom: A dead nature.

2006-10-11T19:59:00.000-04:00

You never got it. And you never will. 'You're a catholic bible maniac' Woah. That's some news! You really didn't notice before? Of course you didn't. You never got it.

You, more than anybody else, would have to understand. But you can't, and I can't really blame you. I am the poison and the tourniquet. Why did you choose to be with him? And made him dream about a life together and kids and getting old together by the fireplace just to tell him after 4 years that no, that it wasn't what you wanted. That things had changed, and you had changed. That for you he was just a father figure. That you never wanted him as a man. Is that what I was supposed to do? Maybe. Maybe we'd make great love for 4 years or more then one day, while you're believing everything is going great, I'd wake up and tell: "you know what? from the beginning, you were just a mother figure to me. I don't want to be with you. Actually, there's another person that I like. But it doesn't has to do with you. So you better leave me for I plan to be with this new great person I found. :D". Wasn't it what you wanted to do? with him? but things didn't turn out as expected. Yeah, that happens a lot. Because I don't think you had planned all of that for him. You told me you were poison but I really doubt that you planned to spread so much shit on his walls. I don't think you're the kind of person that comes in and out of the life of a person with the sole intention to hurt them. Although that was what you told me the whole time, remember? "I will discard you and replace you when I get tired of you, when I grow bored of you, just like it happened with him". But I've never thought you're that kind of person. But it seems that you think I'm that kind of person. Actually I think it'd be fun being a person like that. The idea puts a smile on my face. It's an interesting reality. But maybe I don't have the guts for that. It tooks you four years to realise that he wasn't the man of your life, but a place where you took shelter from the things that troubled you then "he give you warmth and and strenght" according to your words. It took less time for me. But does that make those 4 years, 4 years of lies, hypocrisy, betrayal and wickedness? Were you playing with him all the time? Didn't you feel anything for him? Was it just a fake? When you told him you didn't want to break up with him and that he was the only man you liked, then yo ran to me and kissed me, were you just being a cold, heartless bitch that wanted to play with his feelings and stomp upon his heart and devotion? I don't think so.
But I don't seem to have those privileges. I must be perfect, your perfect superman. And if I can't be, then "It wasn't with me. it had nothing to do with me". I now remember when my cat was dying and you was so full of indignation and offended that I wouldn't risk make a 3 hours trip with my cat with SO BIG chances that it'd kill her, and how you said you wouldn't help me then. Your main concern wasn't my cat, was it? "I thought you were running away" you said. From you I reckon. Yeah, I guess you are the personification of compassion. You act so much like him and your mother sometimes...

Sorry, but I always made clear that I didn't come to save you. That only you could do that and that I'd only bring chaos to your life.
I didn't deceive you out of your house. I was outside. You saw me and came to me. And I told you that I was the Devil himself, literally and explicitly, and that you could eat of my apples if that's what you wanted. I told you that I wouldn't give you answers, just questions. And I always kept my distance, remember? And it was you who told me that you were surprised that I had accepted so fast that you loved him and we had no chances. Remember when you came and told me about your problems with him, and me, in spite of my situation, said "If that relationship means so much for you and him, you should talk to him and do everything you can to make it work." Or when I told you "I'd tell you to run from me as far as you can and forget that you ever knew me. Knowing that you suffer hurts me and I think you'll suffer less if you erase me completely instead of having me in little drops." I insisted too, that there was an ugly side of me that you'd hate, that I could be everything you love and everything you hate. I was blatantly honest. I always showed you who I really was, but you only saw what you wanted to see, no matter how much I insisted.

Do you know sometimes I doubt about you too? What was my place? A supplanter? A replacement? Someone to help you out of the new pit you were in as you said. "The rose world is for him". You were just hungry for me as you clearly put it many times. Obssessed. You were starving and wanted me to ease your hunger, was it? And since I didn't, you throw a fit. Sometimes I really wonder if it was like that. Because your obsessive and vitriolic behavior makes me think so. You begin to sound like a spoiled kid. What I describe as a warm and beautiful shelter, you call a house for hobos. If I'm glad 'cus I know that you're getting better, you insult me and insist on that stupid idea that I just give excuses to get rid of guilty feelings. Are you surprised than I'm glad for that? Would you feel better if I was jealous? If I was hurt? I don't have any guilty feelings and you won't cause any or hurt me if that's what you want. Hate me, insult me, spit on all the memories that still remind you of me. Even when sometimes it annoys me, I cannot help but understand you and I hold no grudges against you. It's sad that in our blindness we gather thorns for flowers. You're so drowned in all the suffering you've had to bear that you can't hear what I'm saying. But it doesn't matter. If mescaline boy makes you smile again I'll be glad for that. But not because he's cleaning the shit I left on your walls. I'm proud of my 'PAINting'. That beautifully horrible Dead Nature.

You said once that few things made so much sense for you as the phrase "Everything is good in the end. If it isn't good, it's not the end". So keep moving on. It's not the end now, obviously. It will be good. In the end. And if you don't remember me, don't think of me, and it had nothing to do with me, if I'm not the person you loved, and I'm just "one of millions of persons that you don't care for", if I'm a perceptual error then stop coming here to read "the same old stupid story that only I believe". These are just stories for them to read. This is just a vagabond's journal and you won't find anything here but ghosts, carcasses, rotten bugs and faded memories of someone you hate and would like to forget.

THE END.

Lucy Phermann © November 25th, 2006.

USEFUL LINKS FOR READERS:
Apple of Sodom
Mythical Plants of The Middle Ages
More on Apple of Sodom
Article on Apple of Sodom
About the song
Contemporary Version of Aesop's fable 'The Fox and The Grapes' by Ann C. Palica

The Helium Balloon. A tale for kids By Lucy Phermann

2006-10-07T16:43:00.000-04:00

Para la versión en español lee: El Globo de Helio: Un cuento para niños Por Lucy Phermann

When I was a little boy I always wanted a helium balloon. I never had any. Somehow, my parents always avoided to buy me one. I suppose that they did not want to take the risk that I'd lose it and begin to cry. It's the irony of the balloons. The children know that the balloon will explode at any moment, but even so they do ANYTHING in order to get one. It is fascinating how much they mean for a kid. Something as simple as a rubber bag full of air. So simple, but something that provides so much diversion at the same time… and how tragic it is to lose it. How sad when that moment arrives, that we denied in our minds. That we simply did not accept. We wanted it to last forever. But it was a futile idea, and we did not escape from reality. Of all the helium balloons, some especially called my attention. Those that had left the hands of their owners and were floating up to the sky, higher and higher, until they got lost among the clouds. Getting lost. One of the greatest fears of a child and of an adult also. Did you ever go astray, at least for an instant, being found out of the protective presence of your parents? Sure that you did. Do you remember that terrible sensation of anguish that seized us just then? The terror set against the possibility of never returning again to the sure company of our parents, to find us defenseless to dangers that perhaps we didn't even know? Well, the story that I am going to tell has a lot to do with that sensation. And with the helium balloons of course. There was upon a time a helium balloon. When it was born, they hitched it to a bunch of other newborns helium balloons. It never felt comfortable with this. Being tied did not please it. Besides, the breeze blew, making it hit against its brothers. They did not seem to care about this. They were like little puppies waiting for a kiddo to buy them and play with them. But for the balloon, the string that held it was a fetter that kept it from going to those places that it longed for. And, how curious is life!, it happened to be that the string was tattered in a point and it snapped. The balloon did not think about it two times and left flying, toward its freedom, toward its dreams. Its happiness was so much that it almost explodes. Finally, it would be able to reach the places that it only had dreamed in its helium-filled-interior! It was going high, challenging gravity, while humans and other balloons continued tied to the ground. At first, some child noted him up in the sky and stared at it for a while. Until the buildings or the clouds covered it. Or until the sunlight dazzled their eyes. Or simply until they lost interest in continuing watching, which did not take a lot of time. And the balloon continued going up, each time getting further away from the planet. Of that world full of children and of balloons and other strange creatures. And soon, nobody there remembered the balloon anymore. It was an alien entity, ignored. And the balloon continued going up, crossed the terrestrial atmosphere and found itself into space. It was more beautiful than it had thought, and more terrifying than it had imagined. It saw the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Venus. It saw galaxies, nebulas, white dwarves, saw stars being born and dying, in an spectacle only witnessed before by Gods. And the balloon continued going up. And years passed, decades, centuries and for some reason, the balloon did not explode. Could it be possible that God had forgot that it existed?

Now the balloon realized that it would be wandering for always in the nothingness. There wasn't anything around him anymore. It didn't know how much time had passed since it had abandoned that place. That place where it was born and that in spite of all, was the only thing that sometime had been its home. And now it would never return there. And while the time passed, the helium balloon simply continued floating in the desolate immensities of the infinite. And thus it was forever, wandering, floating, going up. In the nothingness. Alone. Eternally.

Lucy Phermann ©2005

Can't Change Me - By Chris Cornell

2006-10-07T14:02:00.000-04:00

She can do anything at all
Have anything she pleases
The power to change what she thinks is wrong
So what could she want with me?

But wait just one minute here
I can see that she's trying to read me
Suddenly I know

She's going to change the world
But she can't change me
No she can't change me

She has the daylight at her command
She gives the night its dreams
She can uncover your darkest fear
And make you forget you feel it

But wait just one minute more
I can see that she's trying to free me
Suddenly I know

She's going to change the world
But she can't change me

Suddenly I can see everything that's wrong with me
But what can I do?
I'm the only thing I really have at all

But wait just one minute here
I can see that she's trying to need me
Suddenly I know

She's going to change the world
But she can't change me
No she can't change me

Something I Can Never Have - By NIN. From The Natural Born Killers ST

2006-10-07T11:37:00.000-04:00

Mickey: Let me tell you something.
This is the 1990s.
In this day and age,a man has to have choices.
A man has to have variety.

Mallory: What do you mean, "variety"?
Hostages? You want to fuck some other women now?
Is that what you mean?
Why'd you pick me up?!!
Why take me out of my house. . .
. . .and kill my parents with me?!!
Ain't you committed to me?!!
Where are we fucking going?!!

Mickey: Relax. It's me, your lover. . .
. . .not some demon, not your father.

Mallory: No, you're not my fucking lover!
You're not my--
You've been fucking loving me?
You been loving me real true!

i still recall the taste of your tears
echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears
my favorite dreams of you still wash ashore
scraping through my head 'till i don't want to sleep anymore

you make this all go away
you make this all go away
i'm down to just one thing
and i'm starting to scare myself
you make this all go away
you make this all go away
i just want something
i just want something i can never have

you always were the one to show me how
back then i couldn't do the things that i can do now
this thing is slowly taking me apart
grey would be the color if i had a heart
come on tell me

you make this all go away
you make this all go away
i'm down to just one thing
and i'm starting to scare myself
you make this all go away
you make this all go away
i just want something
i just want something i can never have

in this place it seems like such a shame
though it all looks different now,
i know it's still the same
everywhere i look you're all i see
just a fading fucking reminder of who i used to be
come on tell me

you make this all go away
you make this all go away
i'm down to just one thing
and i'm starting to scare myself
you make this all go away
you make it all go away
i just want something
i just want something i can never have
i just want something i can never have

The Lady of Shalott

2006-10-06T23:55:00.000-04:00

"The Lady of Shalott" is a romantic poem by the English poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892). Like other early poems— "Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere," and "Galahad"— the poem recasts Arthurian subject matter loosely based on medieval sources and takes up some themes that would become more fully realized in Idylls of the King where the tale of Elaine is recounted.

The poem (of which Tennyson wrote two versions: one in 1833, of twenty verses, the other in 1842 of nineteen verses) is commonly believed to have been loosely based upon a story from Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur concerning Elaine of Astolat, a maiden who falls in love with Lancelot, but dies of grief when he cannot return her love. However, Tennyson himself said that the poem was based on a thirteenth-century Italian novelette entitled Donna di Scalotta, which focuses on the lady's death and her reception at Camelot rather than her isolation in the tower and her decision to participate in the living world, two subjects not mentioned in
"Donna di Scalotta.

Taken from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lady_of_Shalott

Nosotros - By Pedro Junco Jr.

2006-10-06T23:45:00.000-04:00

Atiéndeme.. quiero decirte algo,que quizás no esperes, doloroso tal vez...

Escúchame... que aunque me duela el alma, yo necesito hablarte y así lo haré.

Nosotros, que fuimos tan sinceros, que desde que nos vimos, amándonos estamos.

Nosotros, que del amor hicimos, un sol maravilloso,

romance tan divino.

Nosotros,que nos queremos tanto, debemos separarnos,

no me preguntes más.

No es falta de cariño,

te quiero con el alma.

Te juro que te adoro

y en nombre de éste amor

y por tu bien te digo adios.

Alicia (Expulsada Al País De Las Maravillas) - By Enrique Bunbury

2006-10-06T23:44:00.000-04:00

Ni un día más me quedaré sentado aquí,
en la penumbra de un jardín tan extraño.
Cae la tarde y me olvidé otra vez
de tomar una determinación.

Alicia sortilegio de babia
en el fondo del espejo.
Alicia ni supone ni piensa,
con la luna por cerebro.

Alicia en su pensamiento
tirando del hilo de su enredo.
Alicia en el laberinto
sin minotauro me llama: ¡Teseo!

Alicia es siempre tan breve
que ya ha terminado.
Alicia dice que te quiere
cuando ya te ha abandonado.

Alicia expulsada...
al país de las maravillas.
Para Alicia hoy...
es siempre todavía.

Alicia, viajando entre lunas,
de charla con musarañas.
Alicia tejiendo las nubes
con tela que nunca se acaba.

Alicia es siempre tan breve
que ya ha terminado
Alicia dice que te quiere
cuando ya te ha abandonado.

Alicia expulsada...
al país de las maravillas.

In Dreams - By Roy Orbison

2006-10-05T19:59:00.000-04:00

A candy-colored clown they call the sandman
Tiptoes to my room every night
Just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper
Go to sleep. everything is all right.

I close my eyes, then I drift away
Into the magic night. I softly say
A silent prayerlike dreamers do.
Then I fall asleep to dream my dreams of you.

In dreams I walk with you. in dreams I talk to you.
In dreams youre mine. all of the time were together
In dreams, in dreams.

But just before the dawn, I awake and find you gone.
I cant help it, I cant help it, if I cry.
I remember that you said goodbye.

Its too bad that all these things, can only happen in my dreams
Only in dreams in beautiful dreams.

For your demons - By Saturnus

2006-10-02T05:45:00.000-04:00

For Your Demons

Did you fall into that raven night
With sigh and woe and lonely path ?

This song is for the demons
That haunted you in those loveless lonely nights
And for the shadows that stained your soul
For the echoes of your loss
This song is for your forgiveness
For the sadness I knifed in your heart
For the road that lies ahead
With fear and hope, loss and salvation

Did you wake with a sigh and not a smile, did you ?
Did you hear the ravens woe in this exaulted night ?
This very night

This song is for the demons
That haunted me in those loveless lonely nights
And for the shadows that stained my soul
For the echoes of my loss
This song is for my forgiveness
For the sadness you knifed in my heart
For the road that lies ahead
With fear and hope, loss and salvation

El Vagabundo

2006-10-02T04:09:00.000-04:00

Realmente no pensaba escribirte más. No me interesa defenderme, de hecho, me agrada tu desprecio y quizá sería mejor que siguieras pensando lo que ahora piensas de mí. Pero quizá no...

Voy a hablarte con la más completa sinceridad, como siempre lo he hecho, aunque quizá ya no quieras saber nada. Pero bueno, esa será tu decisión. Repito, esto no se trata de eximirme mi conciencia de culpas como piensas.

Has visto muchas cosas de mí, y no las niego, si miras bien, verás que por el contrario siempre las he afirmado.

Ciertamente, la idea de que sigan mi camino es una idea atractiva. Es cuestión de inseguridad, narcisismo e incluso, soledad. Pero yo no pretendo forzarte a que aceptes estar sola por el resto de tu vida sólo para que aceptes mi visión de las cosas. Es simplemente que en mi experiencia, he aprendido que no es aconsejable depositar tu felicidad en la compañía de otra persona. No sólo por todo el sufrimiento que eso significa sino porque a la final lo que estás haciendo es usar a la otra persona para llenar tus carencias y esa idea no me agrada. A mí me quemó tanto la soledad, el tener frente a ti a alguien que significa todo para ti, esa 'otra rata en la jaula' y saber que no, que entre esa rata y tú nunca habría una 'juntedad', un 'nosotros', ninguna historia juntos, ni siquiera el simple roce de un dedo... Por mucho tiempo, lo único que quise, era precisamente algo que no podía tener. Siempre queda la duda, ¿es peor haber amado y perdido que nunca haber amado? quizá ambas sean igual de terribles, pero no puedo evitar pensar que aunque el primer caso quizá sea más doloroso, en aquel al menos tienes el atenuante de que, hubo algo, aunque sea por breves momentos, pudiste saborear tu sueño, mientras que en el segundo caso solo tienes la desolación de una puerta que nunca se abrió y que sabes que nunca se abrirá, y tú sólo la ves desde afuera... Y hace frío... Y pasan los años y cuando crees que ya has olvidado esa puerta, se te aparece en un sueño, con la única intención de que recuerdes, de que no olvides, que es una puerta que no se abrirá. Nunca jamás. Una puerta que fue hecha sin una llave. Lo peor es cuando encuentras otra puerta y te pasa lo mismo... Llega un punto en que eso de andar buscando puertas se te hace absurdo. Te preguntas cual es el sentido de ir por ahí queriendo entrar en una casa ajena y que te reciban como un amigo y sientas calor de hogar. Se te hace absurdamente absurdo. Empiezas a decirte "pero después de todo, caminar bajo la lluvia no es nada malo...” Y te conviertes en un vagabundo. Sin hogar, sin techo, siempre afuera, caminando. Libre. Cuando yo ya había decidido que no iba a buscar más puertas porque en realidad ya no me llamaban la atención, pasé por un castillito de lo más coqueto. Con paredes de cascarita de huevo y una puerta de algodón. Me acerqué porque me pareció hermosísimo y curiosamente cuando estaba detallándola, sin hacerme ilusiones de querer entrar porque aunque la idea me gustaba, ya yo no esperaba que ninguna puerta se abriera, alguien abrió y me dijo "¿quieres pasar? hace frío allá afuera y me caería bien una compañía" ¡y yo no me lo creía! Quedé perplejo entré. Porque me gustaba la idea. En verdad me gustaba. Y que más me hubiese gustado que poder haber permanecido allí mucho tiempo, y disfrutar de la calidez que allí encontré. Pero me había convertido en algo frío, y no hallaba placer alguno en la calidez. En vez de agregar calor, mi presencia en aquel castillito lo recorría como una brisa helada. Y créeme, que esto para mi fue muy desconcertante porque yo toda la vida quise entrar en alguna casita ¡y este castillito era de lo más fenomenal! Y la compañía no podía ser mejor. Y yo no entendía entonces que pasaba y me empecé a figurar infinidad de cosas. Ahora creo saberlo. Me había convertido en un vagabundo, y mi sitio ya no estaba bajo un techo. Y esto era una tragedia, obviamente. Para ambos. La ironía era que, de una u otra manera, las puertas no parecían haber sido hechas para mí. Ya fuese abiertas o cerradas. Chiquitas o grandes, hermosamente decoradas o solo barrotes; yo, más que alguien libre, era un exiliado. Y el exilio es curioso, porque al estar afuera puedes parecer libre, y en cierta forma, lo eres, si así lo asumes, pero la diferencia entre ser enviado al exilio y ser enviado a prisión es que en la prisión te mandan adentro de unos muros y en el exilio te mandan fuera de los muros. O sea viene siendo como lo mismo pero con más espacio. Es como la celda más grande de la prisión, que precisamente no está dentro de la prisión sino que es todo lo que queda afuera. Los limites siguen siendo los mismos muros...

Yo mentiría si digo que me gustaría volver. Pero cada día recuerdo ese castillito. Y tu cara. Y toda tu rabia y tu dolor y tu desprecio no pueden sino recordarme tu calidez, por eso no puedo lamentarlos. No... No sigas el camino de este vagabundo. No tienes porqué. Yo solo quería que, aunque yo ya no estuviera contigo, o nadie más, fueras feliz en tu castillo, porque es muy hermoso para que la tristeza more en él. Y la pregunta sigue en pie: ¿de que sirve un castillo, si estás solo allí, sin nadie con quien compartirlo? Y aunque eso sea muy cristiano, le doy la razón. Quizá sí sirva de algo. Porque hay vagabundos, que están cansados de tanto caminar solos, y necesitan un lugar al que llegar antes de seguir su camino. Y mientras estén allí, las tragedias no existen. Como la historia de Calipso y Ulises en La Odisea. ¿Y quien quita? Algún viajero podría encontrar allí su destino. Lo que sé es que sin estos remansos, la vida de los vagabundos sería mucho más insoportable, y el mundo, mucho más detestable.

If Love Is a Red Dress (Hang Me in Rags) by María McKee

2006-09-23T02:38:00.000-04:00

My heart is empty.
Your eyes are dark.
Once we were hungry,
Now we are full.
These chains that bind us,
Can't beat these chains.
If love is shelter,
I'm gonna walk in the rain.

You were my angel.
Now, you are real.
So like a stranger,
Colder than steel.
The morning after,
You know what you bring.
If love is a red dress,
Well, hang me in rags.

Away.
There goes the fairy tale.
Lord, ain't it a shame?
In all this comfort,
I can't take the strain.

If we played even,
I'd be your queen.
But someone was cheatin'.
And it wasn't me.
I've laid it on the table,
You had something back.
If love is Aces,
Give me the Jack.

do you need some body to love?

2006-09-13T20:09:00.000-04:00

What follows is a chat conversation I had a few days ago. The person here began by making reference to my entry about the Seven Capital sins and something I say about Lust. However, what fueled this conversation was something he said, a quote about love: "the only sexual abnormality is the incapacity for love". I think that'd make all humans sexually abnormal.

Someone:
can i just make an annoying statement about the world population increase?
Someone:
it's an exponentiating curve
Someone:
more people = more reproduction
Lucy Phermann:
yeah that was my point
Someone:
it's not like everyone has gotten progressively lustier
Lucy Phermann:
no, that wasn't what i mean
Lucy Phermann:
but people are obviously being fucking a lot thru all human history
Someone:
yeah
Someone:
but what constitutes excessive sex is a notoriously arbitrary consideration
Lucy Phermann:
we're weird. everybody likes sex but at the same time everybody has at least something against it
Lucy Phermann:
i'm not meaning excessive sex
Someone:
i read a wonderful quote yesterday
Someone:
"the only sexual abnormality is the incapacity for love'
Lucy Phermann:
i'm just pointing out that this society (that's is, us. you, me and they)
Lucy Phermann:
likes sex a lot
Lucy Phermann:
and it has been like that throughot all the times
Someone:
it makes evolutionary sense that people would enjoy sex
Lucy Phermann:
exactly, i mention that
Someone:
indeed
Lucy Phermann:
the whole article is just poiting out that qualities that we exhibit as a society, qualities that are promoted and reinforced in one way or another for the same society, are considered Capital sins according christianity. and the irony that in that society, christianity is one of the , allegedlly, more practiced religions, and many of our morals stem from it
Lucy Phermann:
and about the quote you mentioned, i think the only sexual abnormality, is believing sex is ok only with 'love'
Lucy Phermann:
we're raised to feel guilty about sex. to see it as something dirty in one way or another, but sex is our means of reproduction, so they sell you the idea of an idealized and sublime feeling that makes sex ok
Lucy Phermann:
that's bullshit
Lucy Phermann:
love is not a cozzy feeling. it's not caring for the one you love. it's not missing them. it's not needing them. it's not wanting to entwine your lives together.
Lucy Phermann:
it's not sharing a special and meaningful relationship
Lucy Phermann:
those are just lies with purposes
Lucy Phermann:
behind that, only exists the biological mechanism to ensure reproduction
Lucy Phermann:
that is, sex
Lucy Phermann:
people's inner urge to find 'the one', and the settling down when they find them, it's just that biological mechanism.
Lucy Phermann:
many animals do that too, and in a more effective way
Someone:
i really don't buy that
Lucy Phermann:
you don't agree with what i say?
Someone:
love is a fundamentally different phenomenon from mating partnerships
Lucy Phermann:
that's my point exactly. but what people do is associate them
Someone:
if love were a function as you describe it would preclude relationships between partners incapable of reproducing
Lucy Phermann:
we, as a race, pass on more than our eyes color and skin tone. we've developed an specialized nervous system that has made the phenomenon of perception possible, thus allowing to perceive and shape reality. thoughts, ideas, social schemes and alot more are part of this too, so reproduction is not the only way to fulfill our role as species
Lucy Phermann:
still, what fuels that urge to find someone to share our lives with, is a mechanism of propagation. based on a big feeling of isolation and a sense of vulnerability
Lucy Phermann:
again, this is something anyone will refuse to believe, for it'd put in risk the way we're programmed to function
Lucy Phermann:
i'm not denying the existence of love. i'm jus pointing out that, jus as it happens with god, people have no idea of its true nature and addopt misshapen images of it. After all, God is love
Someone:
i think you're misconstruing the impulse to live gregariously with the impulse to mate
Someone:
*as
Lucy Phermann:
you do? so tell me, what is love?
Lucy Phermann:
would you fall in love with somebody that you'd find unpleasant?
Lucy Phermann:
would you fall in love would somebody that doesn't make you feel 'complete'?
Someone:
no on both counts
Lucy Phermann:
ok. then think about it and what these things mean
Lucy Phermann:
also, you can ask yourself why doesn't make sense to you, why something in you feels uneasy when i say that what people think is 'love' is a biological mechanism, even when i'm not denying that love exists
Someone:
i don't feel uneasy
Lucy Phermann:
i'm not asking you to believe what i say is true. i'm asking you to listen to what i say and with a terrifying objectivity, try to see ways from that point of view and question what you think, just to see what you find. after all, i think we all have in a higher or lesser level, a wish to understand the nature of our lives and the world we live in
Lucy Phermann:
you're not giving you the chance to really consider these ideas, to play with them, to observe them. your reactions are "i really don't buy that" and "you're miscontruing". you're rejecting the idea, something in you really dislike it. something in you says it just can't be that way. it seems absurd and "a misconstruction"
Lucy Phermann:
call it "cognitive dissonance"
Someone:
i consider the brain in parts
Someone:
the amygdalal brain and the rest
Someone:
anything can reproduce, fight and whatever else with the former
Lucy Phermann:
why disgregate what the brain is? is the whole just the sum of the parts?
Someone:
this isn't a matter of cognitive dissonance - you're creating hyperbolic links
Someone:
no, it is not
Someone:
it's a stepwise refinement
Lucy Phermann:
if i touch your hand, am i touching your hand or am i touching you?
Lucy Phermann:
hyperbolic links and stepwise refinements...
Lucy Phermann:
possibly. but that doesn't really invalidates what i'm saying
Lucy Phermann:
does it?
Someone:
well yes i think it does
Someone:
love is an artefact of having a lot more processing power to spend on social thinking and empathy
Someone:
observe that likewise we are the only species that tortures
Someone:
what's the low level evolutionary purpose there?
Lucy Phermann:
i don't see any low level
Someone:
reproduction is a pretty low level requirement of a species
Lucy Phermann:
i wouldn't say that
Lucy Phermann:
in fact, for most species, i'd say reproduction is one of the highest level requirements
Someone:
no no
Someone:
low level = fundamental
Someone:
reproduction is the fundamental trait of life as a self-sustaining concerted chemical reaction
Lucy Phermann:
see? perhaps we don't disagree much after all, but what you can call 'llow' maybe I call it 'high' that's why i ask you to give the chance to play with the ideas before assuming a possition towards them. otherwise you'll never really understand much
Someone:
low level is a pretty universally understood objective definition
Someone:
cf. low level computation
Lucy Phermann:
well, i've just proved that's not that universal
Lucy Phermann:
but I know what you mean. maybe I only got lost in translation
Lucy Phermann:
remember I normally speak spanish
Lucy Phermann:
but, here and now, I think is pretty interesting that fundamental=low level, but it makes a lot of sense
Lucy Phermann:
it just depends what reference point you take really
Lucy Phermann:
but, back to the topic, being reproduction a fundamental trait of every species life, don't you think it makes sense that the activities directly involved in this purpose, are fueled by a biological mechanism to ensure it?
Someone:
yes but you can guarantee reproduction even with a very simple brain
Someone:
in fact
Lucy Phermann:
and, if that's the case of what people call 'love', what's the problem with it?
Someone:
higher brain functions in humans can be contrary to reproductive instincts
Someone:
we can become celibate, or be not in the mood or cut our balls off
Lucy Phermann:
in that case, that'd mean that hihger brain functions can be a direct threat to life itself
Someone:
yes
Someone:
but what else is new?
Someone:
we have far more overarching malfunctions that threaten our species
Someone:
like our love for warfare
Lucy Phermann:
I like to think of it as 'plague control'
Lucy Phermann:
Every creations holds the key of its self -destruction. Being humans one of the more threatening species for the rest of the system, I think anything that can dwindle their numbers is.. beneficial for the whole
Lucy Phermann:
hey, Do i have your permission to post this conversation in my blog?
Someone:
erm
Someone:
nah
Lucy Phermann:
please, i won't give your email address or anything. i can even delete your nickname if you want
Lucy Phermann:
it's really important to me. it's very interesting and i'd like to share it
Someone:
i'd really rather not
Lucy Phermann:
i can delete the parts that make reference to your private life
Someone:
do you want to post it because you consider it a valid argument?
Lucy Phermann:
I think that it shows 2 different and reasonable points of view, another that's different than mine, so i'd like to share it so people can make their own conclusions and share their oppinion too
Someone:
on the sole condition that i am in no way personally or pseudonymally identifiable
Lucy Phermann:
ok. i won't mention your name, nick or email address anywhere. anything else?
Someone:
that's about it
Lucy Phermann:
Thank you very much

Mein Kampf gegen Lüge, Dummheit und Feigheit (Why I write)

2006-08-26T18:30:00.000-04:00

Today I received a mail of someone saying how great it was that I was a 'graphomaniac'. I haven't heard that term before, but I could figure out what it meant. After a little research I found this:

Graphomania is not a mania to write letters, personal diaries, or family chronicles (to write for oneself or one's close relations) but a mania to write books (to have a public of unknown readers). ... Graphomania (a mania for writing books) inevitably takes on epidemic proportions when a society develops to the point of creating three basic conditions:

1. an elevated level of general well-being, which allows people to devote themselves to useless activities;
2. a high degree of social atomization and, as a consequence, a general isolation of individuals;
3. the absence of dramatic social changes in the nation's internal life.

Then I was going to write a short reply about how writing for me was just one of my tools I use to express my ideas about the things I'm concerned about. It didn't turn out very short, so I decided to post it here, it summarizes the reasons that fuel my writing. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mein Kampf (by Lucy Phermann)

-----------
why thanks. It's not like I have a choice, ahah. This urge to make anything I can to burn down the mediocre world we live in so we can be reborn like a Phoenix is something that I just can't leave behind. Even if I wanted, I can't get rid of it. It's so deep inside me like breathing and pumping blood. I have an intelligent mind, an extremely peculiar way to view things, somehow 'rebellious' and I've always had a talent for writing, so that's one of the mediums I use to communicate and express my ideas. In the end it all stems from me being naturally.. fascinated, with the world around me. From my desire to pursue priesthood to my actual 'campaign' against religions. It may seem contradictory but it is very logic. As a kid and young boy, my fascination with the world pushed me towards religions. My fascination with the Universe has always been so, that to me the only obvious choice, and desire, was to devote my life to exalt the wonders of Creation and Creator. In a way, that hasn't changed that much, and that's the big irony, the contradiction is born from itself, and what pushed me towards religions ended up turning me in their biggest enemy, because, being so fascinated with the world, I just can't tolerate any kind of authority telling how far can you go, and dictating how should things be and how they shouldn't. It might seem a dangerous and anarchist way of thinking, and of course there's anarchism in it, tho not in the traditional way, my target is not a political system, it's more complex than that. My aversion for any authority and (external) moral, stems mainly from:

1st, a love for freedom. While many insist that freedom should not be mistaken for licentiousness, and that your rights end where the rights of others begin, I think that way of thinking contradicts itself. Who am I to set the limits for what you think is freedom? Who is anyone to set the limits of what me, or you, or her, think freedom is? Instead I think anyone has the right to stand up and fight for what they value.

2nd, and very important, because so many people miss this when they attack/defend similar ways of thinking, is that 'good' and 'evil' are extremely subjective, and I like that it's that way. While homogenizing the concept of 'good' and 'evil', 'right' and 'wrong' might help to make a more 'peaceful' society and possibly avoid conflicts between humans (not necessarily tho, because, even if they'd all think the same about what's right and wrong, that holds no guarantee that they won't do wrong) I think that it's very.. nocive, since it arbitrarily sacrifices so many possibilities creating a mediocre reality that's imposed above all others. So I don't think that it'd be very 'good' that we'd all agree and get along. I choose the conflict, I declare not peace, but war. If anyone comes to Me, and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot learn anything from me. Do not think that I came to bring peace on the earth; I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to cast conflicts upon the earth: fire, sword, war; and how I wish it were already kindled! I'm not here to grant peace on earth, but rather division; For there will be five in a house: there'll be three against two and two against three, father against son and son against father, and they will stand alone. Put every man his sword by his side, and go in and out from gate to gate throughout the camp, and slay every man his brother, and every man his companion, and every man his neighbour.I will not pity, nor spare, nor have mercy, but destroy, utterly destroy all that they have, and spare them not, but slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, and not one stone will be left on another; every one will be thrown down. I'm very serious when I affirm that I'm The Enemy of everything humanity holds dear. Love your enemies, love me. Because in the end I can be the best friend of this society. Everybody complains about society, and they seem to forget that THEY are society. I am society. I am the wish for more, and I change in order to perpetuate myself. There's an element of 'evil', if you want, in all of us and everything we do. If a set of values is imposed, or 'promoted' as the ideal, and consequently the only one that can be considered as 'acceptable', the equilibrium is broken. Conflict is what keeps equilibrium.That push-pull game. If everyone pulls on one side of the string, well, that doesn't make much sense.

3rd. And also extremely important. This has a lot to do with the previous idea. Not only are 'good' and 'evil' very subjective and the presence of a general moral nocive, but those are things that the individuals must find out for themselves. You can't expect someone to value something or value something yourself, if what is causing that 'valuing' is that you're being told not only that that particular thing is worth to be valued, but also that if you don't value it then you're a bad person or something is wrong with you. I see most people values stem from this system and I think that's one of the reasons of the big apathy and dullness of our times, or what I call 'The Age of Vacuum'. People live too worried about fulfilling the social standards that they're demanded to play. And yes, there's a wish of many people to be 'good persons' and so they defend honesty, peace, love, patriotism or any other badge, but not because they've taken the time to think about the nature of these things (and of the things they oppose to), to live them and see the role they play, not only in their lives, but in the way society is organized, to really find out what's the value they have, and both their positive and negative implications. Humans lifestyle is based in obedience, a domination-slavery scheme kinkier than any BDSM practice. Homo Homini Lupus. Many people believe they're making a good to society while they're just being pawns, and even the ethics of job resemble more a remunerated slavery. People work basically to get paid and nothing more. Go to schools not to explore and learn, but to accumulate knowledge so they can make a living. The same pattern is present in religion. People do not want to be bothered and burdened, with existential worries when they can have the answer given by someone. But again, most don't really know their religion, practicing a 'light' religion (and that's an oxymoron, religion is not something that you can just carry in your pocket) and just taking for granted what they're told about what's good and what's evil, sin and virtue. In the end, you're only getting a conditioned response and it all becomes a contingency contracting and a lot of conditioning. If you live in a certain way, you can earn salvation, eternal life in a post-mortem universe, money, fame and fortune, respect, love, etc. But if you don't then you'll go to hell, you'll be a nobody, a loser, a failure. I think people should realise how the patterns that they buy without even realising, can be just tools to use them for the interests of those who promote those patterns. People should wonder where all their beliefs, habits, values and needs are coming from. Who dictates our morals? All this 'tacit agreement' about what's acceptable? Do they come from religion, politicians, industries, the media? What determines the general perception we have of the world? How advancements in technology and science can be used for the convenience of those who have the power? These are important questions that people should answer by themselves, because if we continue living our lives based on the interests of a few, things can go pretty ugly; they're already going pretty ugly. This way of living has more of machine than it has of human. Our lives resemble an endless series production, each time faster and faster and we don't even know where we're going. Not even where we are standing now. People can't value anything if they don't have the time to find its value. People can't value anything just because a book, institution, politician or celebrity says they MUST value it. Just because they're supposed to. You value something when for your own experience it acquires meaning to you, a personal meaning. So people should not mistake my aversion for 'faith', 'religions' and institutions as a sort of antisocial behavior or 'rebel without a cause'. I care, and I want people to really care. That's why I attack traditions, because they tend towards decay and stagnation. The more you repeat something, the more automatic it becomes, and in following traditions, people forget and detach from what really matters.

4th and last, but not least, reality. Humans appeared on this planet thousands of years ago. They've evolved and developed a highly specialized nervous system that has made them the dominant race on this planet. They've become aware of a reality that none other animal had perceived. And through all the years of human history, they've been trying to find out the answers to understand that reality, religion and science being the biggest tools they have used for that task. But, until the date, in spite of all the theories and dogmas, the Universe remains unexplained and a mystery. Our very lives meaning is not totally clear. And we must be very careful about the answers we give, because, depending of that answers, we'll organize our lives in a certain way. Those answers affect greatly the way we perceive reality and the way we live day to day. Old institutions have proved themselves unable to provide those answers. 21st century humans live a very important and peculiar stage of human history. A world has died and there's nothing to replace it. 21st century man continues out of inertia, holding unto the obsolete because there's nothing new to believe in. When religion and science have proved insufficient, where can they turn to? Indifference? New age? Another religion? Personally, I don't think any of that can help us, but that's something that each person must decide for themselves. I think we must search. We must actually live life. Discovering its mysteries, enjoying everything it offers, feeling it. We must abandon our fears and hopes. We must reconsider many things about how we perceive the world. And this is very important, because humans are capable of incredible things, with consensus as the only requisite. And if we can find an exit of this stagnation we are sinking in, I think we must do everything we can to do it. I don't think that being the architects of our own lives is that bad. Tasting the world with our own mouth, delighting ourselves in its flavors, its endless flavors, bitter, acid, sweet.. that's not bad at all... As Hermann Hesse says on his prologue to his novel 'Demian':

"...what a real living human being is made of seems to be less understood today than at any time before, and men -- each one of whom represents a unique and valuable experiment on the part of nature -- are therefore shot wholesale nowadays. If we were not something more than unique human beings, if each one of us could really be done away with once and for all by a single bullet, storytelling would lose all purpose. But every man is more than just himself; he also represents the unique, the very special and always significant and remarkable point at which the world's phenomena intersect, only once in this way and never again. That is why every man's story is important, eternal, sacred; that is why every man, as long as he lives and fulfills the will of nature, is wondrous, and worthy of every consideration. In each individual the spirit has become flesh, in each man the creation suffers, within each one a redeemer is nailed to the cross.
Few people nowadays know what man is. Many sense this ignorance and die the more easily because of it, the same way that I will die more easily once I have completed this story.
I do not consider myself less ignorant than most people. I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me. My story is not a pleasant one; it is neither sweet nor harmonious, as invented stories are; it has the taste of nonsense and chaos, of madness and dreams -- like the lives of all men who stop deceiving themselves.
Each man's life represents a road toward himself, an attempt at such a road, the intimation of a path. No man has ever been entirely and completely himself. Yet each one strives to become that -- one in an awkward, the other in a more intelligent way, each as best he can. Each man carries the vestiges of his birth -- the slime and eggshells of his primeval past -- with him to the end of his days. Some never become human, remaining frog, lizard, ant. Some are human above the waist, fish below. Each represents a gamble on the part of nature in creation of the human. We all share the same origin, our mothers; all of us come in at the same door. But each of us -- experiments of the depths -- strives toward his own destiny. We can understand one another; but each of us is able to interpret himself to himself alone ."

Indeed, I think humans are unique, but they're not living like that, they're not being treated like that, but instead they're living and being used like gears in a machine. And that's something I will never tolerate. I think we can be more than that. We can create a much more meaningful world. Why live in a pigsty when we can build a castle? just because after a while the mud begins to feel good? Each person must approach to reality on their own. We are alone, and die alone. But that's not bad as we could think. And that doesn't mean we can't share with each other. But only we can live our own lives. It's ridiculous pretending that everybody lives under a same reality, same set of values and same beliefs. It's ridiculous that we must be told every single thing about how we should live: when, where and what clothes can we wear, how many hours we must sleep, what we can drink and what we can eat or consume in any other way, what kind of movies we can watch, or music we can hear, what books should we read, what to believe. Who can we fuck or fall in love with. What kind of sexual acts we can engage into. What can we question and what we can't even touch. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. I think we're creating a society of robots, made of flesh. Curiously, contrary to the traditional 'tin man' image we have of a 'robot', this was the original meaning of the word. The word 'robot' was created by Josef Čapek, and used by his brother Karel Čapek in his science-fiction play 'R.U.R. (Rossum's Universal Robots)' to designate a race of genetically engineered humans, happy to serve. The play popularized the word robot, which displaced older words such as "automaton" or "android" in languages around the world. In its original Czech, robota means drudgery or servitude; a robotnik is a peasant or serf. I think without genetic engineering, the work is already well on its progress. We become more and more soulless each day.

That's where this 'graphomania' as you call it comes from, and it's funny 'cus you only wrote me 4 words and I write this long reply, but writing is one of the best things I do, so I make full use of it. But writing is just one of the tools I use. Everything I make is aimed to contribute in some way to bring the Age of Vacuum to an end. So I hope you enjoy reading my stuff but specially finding out by yourself what do you think and feel and what can you do about it.

Lucy Phermann
Your EneMe.

Society and The Seven Sins

2006-08-14T10:41:00.000-04:00

I find something rather interesting. Xtianity is well rooted in society, to the point that you can't even sneeze without having a xtian-related response. However, let's check out the lifestyle of this so-called xtian society:

LUST:
desire for excitement, or need to be accepted or recognized by others.

Does that ring any bells?

Last time I checked, human population growth is a global issue. You can read it everywhere. Just check the internet if you haven't heard it anywhere else:

The 20th century saw the biggest increase in the world's population in human history. The following table shows estimates of when each billion milestone was met:

* 1 billion was reached in 1802.
* 2 billion was reached 125 years later in 1927.
* 3 billion was reached 34 years later in 1961.
* 4 billion was reached 13 years later in 1974.
* 5 billion was reached 13 years later in 1987.
* 6 billion was reached 12 years later in 1999.

Of course, science and technology have a lot to do with it, in their battle against maladies and help with issues like fertility, however, all this people are not growing on trees precisely. It takes a lot of fucking.and it's not a secret for anybody the craving of this society for the carnal sin. Sodom and Gomorrah ain't got nothing on us. We're raised to be accepted, to be pretty, young, wealthful, succesful, respected and admired by our fellow citizens. All of this is a biological behavior oriented to make of ourselves potential partners for reproduction. Besides, that "something" that distinguishes us from other animals, our specialized nervous system, makes humans the most hedonist of all creatures. Human lives are based in pursuing pleasure and running from pain (not very succesfully tho). This is present even in something like religion and the idea of "God". It's well known that life, the world, nature, crave for continuity, and in organisms that reproduce sexually, it's something to expect that sex is for them something extraordinarily pleasant, the most pleasant thing they can experience, ergo, they'll pursue this and the mechanism of reproduction is guaranteed. While I do not endorse any addiction, not even for sex, I do think that making of the so pleasant source of all life is, using words a christian would likely use, just sick.

Dante's criterion "Excessive love for others" is a rather interesting idea that deserves some thinking too.

GLUTTONY:
Thoughtless waste of everything, overindulgence, misplaced sensuality, uncleanliness, and maliciously depriving others. Marked by refusal to share and unreasonable consumption of more than is necessary, especially food or water. Destruction, especially for sport. Substance abuse or binge drinking. Dante explains it as "excessive love of pleasure"

Wait, isn't consumerism another global issue?? lets' see what they say about it on the net:

"Consumerism is a term used to describe the effects of equating personal happiness with purchasing material possessions and consumption. It is often associated with criticisms of consumption starting with Karl Marx and Thorstein Veblen, but can actually be traced back to the first human civilizations.
In economics, consumerism can also refer to economic policies that place an emphasis on consumption, and, in an abstract sense, the belief that the free choice of consumers should dictate the economic structure of a society."

"The want to consume is nothing new. It is has been around for millennia. People need to consume resources to survive. However, consumption has evolved as people have ingeniously found ways to help make their lives simpler and/or to use their resources more efficiently. Of course, with this has come the want to control such means. Hence, the consumption patterns have evolved over time based on the influence of those who can control it. As a result, there is tremendous waste within this system, to maintain such control and such disparities."

"On the one hand, religions and other belief systems that promoted limited consumption were supported by the wealthy elite to help sustain disparities and maintain control over the majority of people. (In many cases, those aspects of certain religions that were useful for the wealthy were promoted over other aspects.) For example, J.W. Smith in his book, Economic Democracy; Political Struggle of the 21st Century, describes in detail how Christianity was used in Europe in the Middle Ages for such purposes.

[...]

We consume a variety of resources and products today having moved beyond basic needs to include luxury items and technological innovations to try to improve efficiency. Such consumption beyond minimal and basic needs is not necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, as throughout history we have always sought to find ways to make our lives a bit easier to live. However, increasingly, there are important issues around consumerism that need to be understood. For example:

* How are the products and resources we consume actually produced?
* What are the impacts of that process of production on the environment, society, on individuals?
* What are the impacts of certain forms of consumption on the environment, on society, on individuals?
* Which actors influence our choices of consumption?
* Which actors influence how and why things are produced or not?
* What is a necessity and what is a luxury?
* How do demands on items affect the requirements placed upon the environment?
* How do consumption habits change as societies change?
* Businesses and advertising are major engines in promoting the consumption of products so that they may survive. How much of what we consume is influenced by their needs versus our needs?
* Also influential is the very culture of today in many countries, as well as the media and the political institutions themselves. What is the impact on poorer nations and people on the demands of the wealthier nations and people that are able to afford to consume more?
* How do material values influence our relationships with other people?
* What impact does that have on our personal values?
* And so on."

Interesting, uh? And you thought just the fat and obese could fall into this category? We are raised to CONSUME. Who wants to buy my God, my happinnes, my success, my clean white smile? Anything you want, I'll sell it. Even if you don't need it.

Which takes me to the next social value, I mean, Capital Sin:

GREED:
A strong desire to gain, especially in money or power. Disloyalty, deliberate betrayal, or treason, especially for personal gain or when compensated. Scavenging and hoarding of materials or objects. Theft and robbery by violence. Simony is the evolution of avarice because it fills you with the urge to make money by selling things within the confines of the church.

Strong desire to gain power? hoarding? urge to make money? Wait, aren't this things we're supposed to do if we wanna "be someone" in this society? Aren't this values that all parents want their kids to have? To be someone, someone important, to be succesful and able to provide for their family? To be respected and admired, a winner, not a loser, a role model for all?? Isn't The Pope himself surrounded by luxuries of all kind? Yes? Oh, ok. Unto the next sin.

SLOTH:
Apathy, idleness, and wastefulness of time. Laziness is particularly condemned because others must work harder to make up for it. Cowardice or irresponsibility. Abandonment, especially of God. Sloth is a state of equilibrium: one does not produce much, one does not consume much. Dante wrote that sloth is the "failure to love God with all one's heart, all one's mind and all one's soul".

One of the main qualities of our times. And we shouldn't be surprised. A society that urges its members to OBEY, with a religious, political and social system based in blind FAITH and where questioning is punished by tradition and by law and anything new that differs from the established is soon labeled as dangerous and malignant; is condemned to become stagnant and dull. Values are not something to be taught. The proccess of valuing something is something absolutely personal, where something acquires value to the individual beacause he understands its value by personal experience. Not because some book, church, celebrity or any kind of organization says so.

People make a big deal when traditions are endangered, but, deep in their hearts and in their lives, God is dead, and they don't really care. People are too busy and too afraid. Humans are the most vulnerable creatures, 'cus they 're very aware of their condition in this world. So they need something to hold unto, and this is the only reason why they still defend the obsolete institutions that have lost a place in their hearts and lives, they don't really care about anymore. There's a big need on their part to feel safe, to be parto of something, to have somebody tell them that they're not wrong, that they're ok, that there's in fact a God and more to life than this mortal passage they still can't understand, so they can forget about that and dedicate their lifes to be the succesful, respected, loved and beautiful people society demands them to be. It's much easier to have these answers given that choosing to think for yourself. Just do wha you're told, and be the one you're expected to be.

WRATH:
Inappropriate (unrighteous) feelings of hatred and anger. Denial of the truth to others or self. Impatience or revenge outside of justice. Wishing to do evil or harm to others. Self-righteousness.

Self-righteousness is a keyword here. No matter which our beliefs are, this society is characterized by a big denial and fear of truth, for it doesn't have a pretty face in many cases. If something is "ugly" or painful, it can't be true, and people prefer to close their eyes to that, hating anyone who attempts to uncover them and show them things as they actually are. "Ignorance is blessing" and those who reject ignorance must be doomed for eternity.

But let the christians speak for themselves, let's see just some of many proof of their hatre for all those who doesn't follow their path:

Psalm 69, 23-29

23. May their table before them become a trap, and [their hope] for peace become a snare.
24. May their eyes become dark, so they cannot see; constantly cause their loins to slip.
25. Pour out Your fury upon them, and may Your burning wrath overtake them.
26. May their palace be desolate; in their tents let there be no dweller.
27. For You-those whom You smote they pursued, and about the pain of those whom You wounded they tell.
28. Add iniquity to their iniquity, and let them not come into Your charity.
29. May they be erased from the book of life, and may they not be inscribed with the righteous.

Psalm 109, 6-15

6. Set a wicked man over him, and let an adversary stand at his right hand.
7. When he is judged, let him emerge guilty, and let his prayer be accounted as a sin.
8. May his days be few, and may someone else take his office of dignity.
9. May his sons be orphans and his wife a widow.
10. May his sons wander, and [people] should ask and search from their ruins.
11. May a creditor search out all he has, and may strangers despoil his labor.
12. May he have none who extends kindness, and may no one be gracious to his orphans.
13. May his end be to be cut off; in another generation may their name be blotted out.
14. May the iniquity against his forefathers be remembered by the Lord, and may the sin against his mother not be erased.
15. May they be before the Lord constantly, and may He cut off their remembrance from the earth.

So much for mercy and forgiveness, uh?

ENVY:
Grieving spite and resentment of material objects, accomplishments, or character traits of others, or wishing others to fail or come to harm. Envy is the root of theft and self-loathing. Dante defined this as "love of one's own good perverted to a desire to deprive other men of theirs"

In a society where you're judge based on what and how much you have and accomplish, envy can't be condemned. It's a natural consequence of the system. Everybody likes to feel good, to feel loved and special, and in this society you attain this by what you own. People grow with an inferiority complex, and many parents contribute to this, "you're not as much a good student as the neighbour" "you are not as a brilliant player as your cousin" etc.. And the parents themselves apply this same patter to their lives. They are worried not being as successful as the brother-in-law, not as in shape as the cousin, or not having the awesome car that idiot neighbour has, or that perfect family. They spend their lives trying to be at least as good as the people next door, otherwise their lifes are meaningless and lack that shining they so wish to have.

and finally, everybody's favorite, the one and only:

PRIDE:
Pride is known as the father of all sins. Pride is a desire to be more important or attractive to others, failing to give credit due to others, or excessive love of self (especially holding self out of proper position toward God). Dante's definition was "love of self perverted to hatred and contempt for one's neighbor". In Jacob Bidermann's medieval miracle play, Cenodoxus, superbia is the deadliest of all the sins and leads directly to the damnation of the famed Doctor of Paris, Cenodoxus. Pride was what sparked the fall of Lucifer from Heaven. Vanity and narcissism are good examples of these sins and they often lead to the destruction of the sinner, for instance by the wanton squandering of money and time on themselves without caring about others. Another example was Robert E. Lee of the former confederacy. Lee was better skilled than his opposing general from the north Ulissys S. Grant, Lee had never lost a battle before and he was too proud. Becouse of this pride Lee lost the battle of Gettysburg and in turn lost all of his respect and land leading to public if not personal downfall. Pride can be seen as the misplacement of morals.

Ah, c'mon. This has to be a joke. Pride, a sin? Humans are the only animal with pride. And with A BIG BUNCH of it. They think of themselves as the best, biggest creation. The whole world revolves around them. Christianity is a good example, with a God's plan specifically designed for man, his salvation and his eternal life.

We're encouraged to be proud, 'cus pride makes people easy to use. Be proud of your country and die for it. Be proud of your job and your family and work for us, be proud of your possessions and buy everything we sell you. Be proud of your accomplishments and be the one we demand you to be. Be proud of your religion and believe what we want you to believe.

After reading this, I think many satanists should begin to question if they really are in disagreement with society, after all, it seems that it along with christianity belong more to Satan and Sin than to God.

Lucy Phermann.
Ho Kategoros.

Love is

2006-08-10T04:10:00.000-04:00

not what you think. You'll find it in a Möbius Strip.

The Avatar Speaks

2006-08-10T04:06:00.000-04:00

Your lives are so utterly empty because they're full of so much.
Space is nothingness.

I spoke with G.O.D. today

2006-08-04T13:30:00.000-04:00

and it told me: "Don't ever confuse reality with truth. The truth is a LIE".

more of the M.E.A.T. (reality) show

2006-07-31T10:02:00.000-04:00

Shinji: What's this?

Misato: This is the Instrumentality of Man project that your
father has been working on.

Shinji: This is?

Misato: It's part of them, I think.

Asuka: The truth is still unknown to us.

Ritsuko: The things you perceive are the truth.

Rei: Things within you.

Fuyutsuki: And the things recorded in your memory will be your truth.

Ritsuko: There is a truth that changes through the time.

Shinji: This is the truth.
The result of everything, is this?

Asuka: Out of many truths, this is one.

Misato: That's the result you wanted.

Shinji: I wanted?

Rei: Yes.
Destruction, the world where nobody was saved.

Shinji: NO. It's that nobody saved me.

Ritsuko: Nobody can save you.

Ryouji: This is what you wanted.

Asuka: Destruction, Death, the return to nothingness,
All of these did you wish for.

Misato: This is reality.

Shinji: What's reality?

Rei: Your world.

Makoto: With time, with space, with other people, a world of
your own.

Shigeru: The world where how to accept things and how to
perceive things is absolutely up to you.

Maya: It's your world, only given to you now,

That is reality.

Misato: Your world, which nobody else can deal with.

Shinji: It's the world where everything is already created,
isn't it?

Ritsuko: No, it's the world that you are creating.

Fuyutsuki: The world that you are trying to create.

That is reality.

Misato: The will to live.

Asuka: The mind that wishes to die, which you yourself want.

Shinji: This darkness, this incomplete world...
Are you saying, I wished for all of these?

Asuka: Yes.

Ryouji: The closed world where nobody but you are confortable.
That is the very world you wished for.

Makoto: To protect your weak mind.

Shigeru: To protect your joy.

Maya: This is the result.

Misato: In a closed space with nobody but you in it,
Nobody can live.

Asuka: But you wanted this world, a closed world for yourself.

Ritsuko: Excluding what you hate, you wanted a world of solitude.
A mind all your own.

Rei: This is your world delivered, with a small haven in your
mind.

Asuka: This is one of the conclusions.

Misato: The end of the world that you have lived in.

Red Queen (of hearts)

2006-07-31T03:13:00.000-04:00

She has the cracks and holes
of the forgotten God
She has the smell of all
the flowers that have burnt
And in her smile the angels dance in agony
Her teeth, skeletons inside
suicidal lips

And from her broken sex
She bleeds
The sweetest drops of pain
Stitching her heart
with her veins
Testimony of your world's
inutility

In her blood your creation drowns
Like a red cell's fatal count-down
Reflecting anemic memories
A virgin mirroring your dreams

And you're just an impotent God
For this Queen of Broken Hearts
She just waits the final day
She just wants this game to end

by Lucy Phermann.

Infarto (Para una Reina de Corazones)

2006-07-31T03:11:00.000-04:00

Ella vagaba a través de alucinados jardines de algodón
amando la muerte en cada respiro
con ojos fatales y labios fugaces como alegrías
una Reina de Corazones
hasta que él apareció,
un ángel de dolor,
y él también conocía, el ácre olor de la soledad.
Frágil Rey encerrado tras su muralla,
inmune a los encantos de la mortandad en su piel.
La vió tan sóla, que creyó verse a sí mismo.
Lo vió tan sólo, que creyó verse a sí misma.
Él estaba tan lejos de todo, que era tortuoso intentar decir si era real o no.
Saboteó sus jardínes, y la despojó de su algodón,
con promesas de eutanasia endulzó sus ruinas
y en su éxtasis, ella solo fue capaz de decir:
"mátame, sería tan lindo..."
Con labios severos y mirando sus ojos perdidos, él contestó:
"si te matara, créeme, no te gustaría"

Ella suplicaba respuestas,
que huían de ella como huye la cordura del entendimiento,
lo vió transfigurarse en un superhombre, en amor y en muerte,
por primera vez, sagrado y profano se hicieron una sóla cosa en su humedad,
y en extasis religioso de sangre y lágrimas fue devorada por la pasión.

Pero, dios si existía, y esto era una tragedia
pues el pasado lo había despojado de lo único que podía ofrecerle
porque, en el fondo de su fortaleza, él se había enamorado de su soledad.

Sólo de una manera podía él darle el paraíso de la eutanasia amorosa,
y hacerla tan libre como el podía hacerla,
mezclando misericordia y crueldad, regalándole su propia soledad,
marcando su vida para siempre, con la daga del abandono.

Y su Rey la dejó sola,
más sola de lo que nunca hubiera podido estar,
porque habiendo encontrado lo único que su ser podía amar en esta vida,
él la condenaba a nunca tenerlo,
y a vivir cada instante en los jardines de desolación que rodeaban su fortaleza.

Aún a veces, él la observa a lo lejos desde su ventana,
un fastama desolado embelleciendo sus jardines de esperanzas abandonadas,
inclinada con ojos atónitos ante lo que yace en el suelo:
su corazón, infartado
Obsequio de un Rey a una Reina de Corazones.

Él sonríe con melancolía y desaparece tras las cortinas,
justo cuando ella levanta su mirada a las ventanas y ve que,
como siempre, él no está ahí.

Lucy Phermann.

I'm The Accusser

2006-07-31T02:58:00.000-04:00

Acusación:
Yo, Lucy Phermann, acuso a los cristianos, pseudo-cristianos y raza humana en general, de negligencia en la aplicación del don de la percepción real que poseen, causante de una perversión de las religiones. La naturaleza de las religiones no ha de ser dogmática, no es su papel darles a los hombres una cosmogonía definitiva. El mismo intento de hacer esto debería derrumbar en los hombres el carácter dogmático de la religión, anulando el intento. Puesto que si se clama que hay religiones falsas y sólo una verdadera, existe la posibilidad de que CUALQUIERA sea falsa, y además, debido a la diversa cantidad de religiones, la probabilidad de que la practicada por el fiel sea la verdadera es bastante rara. Si al hombre realmente le importara su alma, su salvación, su dios, y vivir en armonía con el plan universal, esto debería suscitar en el individuo la decisión de asumir toda religión como un conjunto de fábulas, mitos e interpretaciones a ser estudiados, razonados, descifrados e interpretados a solas, en una búsqueda personal que bajo ninguna excepción debe ser realizada por un hombre distinto a él mismo. Ésta ha de ser la naturaleza de las religiones, el compartir los resultados de búsquedas personales avanzadas con el resto de la especie de los existentes, con la finalidad de ayudar cada integrante de la misma, de modo que su visión de la realidad y de la naturaleza de la existencia sea cada vez más amplia y completa. Cuando las religiones adquieren carácter dogmático, y se usan como instrumento de control y pastoreo reglamentando la vida de los hombres, se convierten en obstáculos en el desarrollo espiritual, social, económico y político de la especie de los existentes y de cada uno de sus integrantes. Éstos entonces desarrollan un proceso degenerativo de su naturaleza, alejándose de sí mismos, creando una realidad viciada de mentes envenenadas. Esto se conoce como “cáncer de la realidad” y puede provocar una severa epidemia de “tedium vitae" entre los existentes que pone en riesgo el soporte de la realidad. De no tratarse, la realidad es suspendida, ocasionando su coma, o en algunos casos, muerte.

Nosotros, niños atómicos

2006-07-31T02:52:00.000-04:00

Nosotros, niños atómicos

Les estamos agradecidos a nuestros progenitores,
que durante el gran boom
y siguiendo el reglamento atómico suizo
se tiraron al piso de acuerdo a sus reflejos
y muy educadamente contaron hasta quince,
pues de lo contrario no existiríamos.

Nosotros, los niños atómicos, no queremos moralizar,
a nadie queremos recriminar;
simplemente queremos,
que ustedes se acostumbren a nosotros y aprendan a
querernos.

Sólo, que no podemos garantizarles nada,
pues tan pronto seamos mayoría,
ustedes serán los anormales
y quizá tengan que sufrir por eso.

H.R. Giger. 1963.

Atmósfera

2006-07-31T02:49:00.000-04:00

atmosphere, circumjacence, ambience, medium, aura, halo, surrounding, environment, background, setting, scene.
aerosphere; Heaviside Layer, Van Allen Belt; ionosphere, troposphere, tropopause, stratosphere; isothermal layer.

gr. athmos: vapor. sphaira: esfera.

ambiente de un local cerrado.
espacio al que se extiende la influencia de personas o cosas.
estado anímico acerca de una cuestión.

reality, realness, actuality;thatness. Existencia efectiva: la realidad del mundo exterior. (contr.ficción,quimera)
real, essential, quidditative; substantive. verdadero, existente, efectivo. tangible, concreto.(contr. imaginario)

lat. realis

--------------------

"Atmósfera" es un término que uso para denotar un "algo" al que he llegado en mis estudios de los fenómenos de la realidad y la percepción, en el momento en que quise expresarlo y me di cuenta de que conseguir un modo de hacerlo no era sencillo y que es algo en lo que generalmente no se ha puesto mucha atención.
Aunque resulta sencillo para mí identificar qué es lo que llamo atmósfera, explicarlo ha probado ser no tan simple, evidencia del solipsismo inherente en la percepción de la realidad (siendo "realidad" uno de los posibles sinónimos para "atmósfera"). De aquí se desprende que existen dos manifestaciones de realidad, realidad externa (simplicitas) y realidad interna (significat),siendo esta última la que conlleva al concepto de atmósfera y lo que nos caracteriza como humanos.

La realidad externa es colectiva para el ser auto-consciente pero se encuentra fuera de los dominios de la percepción. Es imperceptible pues carece de significado. Irónicamente es lo que muchos humanos creen es "real", cuando, en realidad, se encuentra fuera de su alcance pues su naturaleza es la de "lo que es y nadie percibe". La realidad interna es individual, es lo único perceptible e irónicamente borda en lo que muchos consideran "fantasía". La realidad interna va de mano con la auto conciencia (self awareness). El universo tal como lo conocemos existe solo detrás de nuestros ojos. Cuando, por ejemplo, se observa un edificio el ser auto-consciente lo interpreta imbuyendole de todas las propiedades que conoce sobre lo que es un edificio, y aún más, al componer el todo a partir de sus partes, le imbuye de todas las sensaciones, conocimientos y sentimientos que identifica con cada una de las partes.

Imagínese un paisaje polar.

Al leer la frase anterior, incluso antes de enfocarse en realizar tal ejercicio mental, su mente ya se encontraba armando un paisaje polar, basandose en recuerdos y conocimientos. Un iceberg por aquí, quizá un gélido océano.. El paisaje variará dependiendo de la persona, y más que eso, variará también la sensación que dicho paisaje despierta en la persona. Algunos pensarán en frío, en movimiento, en una escalada. Otros se imaginarán una vasta planicie blanca, gélida, desierta y yerma. Silente, ausente, muerta. Le aseguro que ese mismo paisaje que usted "vió", será visto de una manera completamente distinta e insospechada, por un esquimal, por ejemplo.

De la misma manera, ese edificio que usted observa no es el edificio que está allí. El edificio que usted observa existe solo en su mente, y es una amalgama de memorias, saberes y sensaciones, aglutinadas bajo manifestaciones almacenadas en zonas específicas de su cerebro. Es por ello que la realidad externa es imposible percibirla. La realidad externa es "como es". Percibirla sería imbuirle significados, interpretarla, y al hacerlo ya esta pasa a ser realidad con significado, es decir, realidad interna. La estamos recubriendo de una realidad que genera nuestra mente, de acuerdo a la programación que ésta haya recibido. En un programa, presiono una tecla y las instrucciones traducen mi acción en una acción del programa. En otro programa, presionar la misma tecla será interpretado de una manera completamente distinta, disparando eventos muy diferentes. Así, una misma entrada y dos salidas diferentes. El programa es simplemente un código de reglas para interpretar una realidad externa. Así como la luz eléctrica sucede al proveer de electricidad a un bombillo, la realidad interna sucede al proveer de realidad externa a un animal humano.

Lugares, países, décadas son ejemplos de realidades y atmósferas. Cuando pensamos por ejemplo en Transilvania, sí nunca la ha visto su mente la asociará con castillos, brumas, lunas y Condes. Si pensamos en Japón nos hacemos otra atmósfera. Si pensamos en los 80s, o en los 20s, o en los 70s, tendremos tambien diversas realidades y diversas atmósferas. O si recordamos aquella casa que solíamos visitar en las vacaciones de nuestra niñez.

El mejor ejemplo que puedo encontrar para explicar qué es atmósfera se encuentra en la música. Seguramente le ha pasado que escucha una canción que hacía tiempo que no oía, y en ese instante, acude a su mente un conjunto de cosas, un escenario, una escena. Recuerda una sensación específica que tenía en los tiempos en que solía escucharla. Recuerda eventos asociados a aquella época, las cosas que ocupaban su mente, las personas y lugares que frecuentaba.. o que no frecuentaba... las actividades que ocupaban su tiempo. Y todo esto se presenta como un sueño, como una visión en una bola de cristal, una burbuja, un ambiente, una atmósfera. Esto es algo que sólo usted asocia con dicha canción. Es una realidad evocada al oir las mismas notas que se cristalizaron en su mente como representación de la misma. Cuando decimos "una atmosfera hostil y pesada" o "una atmosfera alegre", estamos transponiendo al aire una serie de sensaciones que se encuentran presentes en un escenario, pero que no se encuentran en un lugar en específico, sino que envuelve y penetra todo. Esto es atmosfera. Así como en los Vedas se habla del Atman, el aire vivificador, y de como se manifiesta en él Brahma bajo la forma de palabra, lo pensante del mundo, lo que piensa y quiere; así elegí la palabra "atmósfera" para transponer en el aire esta realidad interna, pues aunque interna ¿en que lugar podríamos decir que existe? ¿En nuestro cerebro? ¿O en nuestra mente? ¿o en nuestra alma quizá? Donde sea que se encuentre, puedo decir que está en el aire, porque rodea y engloba todo, penetra y está presente en todo, y como el aire, es invisible y escapa a nuestro agarre, pero es fundamentalmente real. Atmósfera y realidad interna son conceptos muy parecidos, pues una atmósfera es a su vez una realidad interna. Atmosfera es lo que sucede cuando uno se da cuenta del hecho del procesamiento de la realidad externa carente de significado en una realidad interna compuesta de significados, dicho de otra manera, atmósfera es la percepción que se tiene a su vez de la percepción de la realidad interna. Es un "darse cuenta", es tomar una foto.

Nuestras realidades (internas) están sujetas a cambio, algunas veces más drásticamente que otras. El niño que fui a los 10 años por ejemplo no es la misma persona, ni físicamente, ni emocionalmente, ni mentalmente, que quien fui a mis 20 años. Incluso células han sido reemplazadas por otras, idénticas, pero distintas. Aunque siga siendo el mismo en esencia, no soy el mismo. No es lo mismo, por ejemplo, un huevo, que una gallina. Pero solo hay tiempo entre uno y el otro. Yo, he sido muchas cosas, muchas personas. Tengo miles de atmósferas en mi haber. Cualquier cosa que el ser humano piensa o siente, existe. En el arte, el artista vuelca su mundo (realidad) interno y lo expresa, lo comunica, a sus semejantes. Esto es un reto al solipsismo implícito en la existencia de seres auto-conscientes. Sin embargo, hay un elemento que para el artista es extremadamente difícil de comunicar, precisamente por su naturaleza solipsista. La atmósfera.

Si usted pinta un cuadro, escribe un poema o una canción o un cuento, compone una pieza instrumental, realiza una escultura o construye una estructura y espacio arquitectónicos, rara vez se comunica la atmósfera dentro de la cual se concibió dicha obra y dentro de la cual existe para usted. A menos que se haga un esfuerzo consciente y voluntario para que la audiencia recree esa misma atmósfera en específico, cada quien interpretará la obra desde su misma realidad interna y le imbuirá su propia atmósfera. En esto radica lo complicado de comunicar algo que es completamente subjetivo, y a su vez, la importancia de hacerlo, pues cuando se logra (asumo aquí que se ha logrado, pues ya una vez se logró, en un nivel más básico, cuando uno de nuestros antepasados fue capaz de hacerse entender con otro sentando lo que sería el comienzo del lenguaje) la comunicación alcanza su máxima expresión y entonces se rompe el muro, se rasga la cortina que nos separa, algo que algunos consideran imposible, pues ya se ha dicho: "Una persona puede entender a otra pero solo nosotros podemos interpretarnos a nosotros mismos". Yo no estoy seguro de la válidez o no de tal aseveración, pero si he logrado comunicarles el significado que tiene para mi una abstracción tal como lo es una "atmósfera", pienso que entonces hay una manera de lograr tal nivel de comunicación, o de al menos aproximarse muchísimo a este.

Requiem for a dream

2006-04-22T17:20:00.000-04:00

I understand so many things now...

IamwhatIamnot

2006-04-20T00:44:00.000-04:00

To be or not to be... that's the fucking question.

You can find it anywhere, everywhere. In a book, in the moment when a baby's head is protruding from a vagina(We can hear the cry), in the moment when a middle aged woman is watching the train approaching (I could hear her blood like boiling oil. Electric).. or simply when you wake up.

And

every

single

second

before

going

back

to

sleep.

Let's make it clear. I really don't like this place. I don't like your eyes. I don't like your friends. I don't like you. I can't like something that doesn't exist. (do you like me? do you want a piece of my brain?)

They're here. Right now. Listen. Ugh. That scratching noise. It's like... a rusted spoon trying to cut through a bone. They're out to get me. Will it ever stop? Damn. I'm afraid what it could mean that it stops...

(insert subliminal message here) Muack!

I'm living on "the edge". I'm not here. Yet not over there. (halo 12, 2.6). But the transition is the worst.

There's a moment that is missing. I must find that moment but if it's missing ... did it ever exist? doesn't it belong to the no time-no space?

Eheheh, I'm sure the Nihilators will help me. The best troops in this fucking universe. The process might not be the most.. pleasant... but I'm a dystopian hedonist after all...

Play stop and change the tape.

I don't know where I was, and even tho I know this place I don't know where I am.

I can feel the tendrils and tentacles claiming me back into this altered state of conciousness you call reality. YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!! They dress me up and make me me. Program the bio-chemical interface, neural network and the void in the chest. But I'm not that. This is just a ride.

Let's make it clear. People never understand this. I really like it here. I LOVE THIS WORLD! And humans too, they're so... interesting.. fascinating indeed. I'm fascinated with the overwhelming nature of existence and it's this fascination what makes life less... unbearable. This is my Suffer Genius, This is my Science of Discontent (do you hate me? do you want a piece of my sex?) And I was always like this...

This is the Age of Vacuum.

God save The Machine.

Lucy Phermann.

Ho Kategoros.