Diarrhea People

Black metal worshipers and occultists are all diarrhea people. My theory is that their heads are empty ovoid meat receptacles, and demons from another dimension fill their devoid minds with rancid metafeces and then the metafeces attracts etherical metaflies, and the flies lay eggs in the feces, and the eggs hatch into meta-maggots, and then the meta-maggots act as one disgusting rotten writhing slimy hive-mind, animating these soulless yet somehow living meat vessels, parading them around and doing psychopathic and just plain gross things, and convincing other feeble-minded backwoods yokels (suburban middle class teenage sociopaths) that it's really cool and cutting-edge to be a living garbage dump. If there's no soul inside of you, Satan wants you... for his poo.

It's for the birds.

Yes I guess I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I don't feel like one. Christians make me sick the vast majority of the time... at least in this country. I don't know how Albanian Christians are. I tried being "Christian" and it didn't work. So now I'm not a Christian. I just believe in Jesus Christ. I'm just a person who realizes a thing or two about the world and the depth of deceit and the subtlety of evil spiritual forces, and in doing so I've been made aware that God is real and Christ did exactly what he said he did. If he hadn't, I would've never been able to realize anything but corruption, death, and destruction.

However, I still watch too much tv and look at too much porn. I'm a lazy bastard, too. Sometimes I take money from my parents here or there to buy a 12 pack of beer or to order a porn subscription. I feel terrible about all of it afterwards, but the thing is... I can't change who I am. That's in God's hands, and if I don't change, then there must be a good reason. You might sat "What about free will?", but honestly I don't know what that is because we all serve some kind of master. So does "free will" make one's actions more meaningful? If I willingly change for God, am I really changing, or am I merely shifting the fault that is always there regardless of my actions? I don't know whether acting on the belief in free will and independence is good or not. It seems kind of delusional and destined to fail. If I'm not supposed to be doing something, the more I want to do it, and then over-do it.

So what do I do but rest on faith alone? Will I ever in this life still not at least partially desire constant proof? It was easy to get when I was into mysticism. I could just do a ritual or sit in the lotus position for a few hours or even take a hot bath, and Id pop into another reality for a minute and go "Oh look at that!" or some times "OH GOD WHAT IS THAT!?" and occasionally "Oh no, dude..." Mysticism is like cheap meaningless tourism. You want to go and explore, but when you get there, you just "Oh look at that" and then you go back home. Some say travel expands the mind. I say it just distracts the mind from the more pressing matters, like the fact that you are going to die and in truth you have no idea what you're going to face. Mysticism is like pigeons shitting on you and then saying it's your fault there's shit in your hair. It's for the birds. I want it, but I'm tired of it.

On a more political note... what happens when civil rights crusaders have crusaded for everything and there's nothing left to crusade for. Are they just going to start making up shit, like rights for tea cups? Like okay te cups are people, too. We'll give tea cups sentience and little arms and legs and eyes and brains, and then we'll crusade for equal employment for tea cups, and then tea cups can get jobs instead of just take up space and occasionally serve our tea needs when we feel unusually European.

A righteous son in heaven is an unreasonable idiot in earth

I get quickly tired of people not related to me lately. I'm a musician, and I really want to make a righteously awesome band, but it's the people. They're all terrible. The most fickle, judgmental, duplicitous, and truly neurotic people are those who proclaim themselves to be artists. I certainly have my eccentricities, but an artist I am not. Artists worship themselves and their work as their god, and they know it's shallow and destined for the rot and stink of death and decay, so that's why they're always compelled to create, even if what they're creating should never have been created at all. They are compelled by the old Freudian death urge, and their "art" means just about as much as random meaningless fornication. I believe in God as my God. So I don't feel compelled to always create, but when I do pick up an instrument and play it's kind of a mysterious accident when some inspired idea appears out of nothing. Normally, a musician would race to a tape deck or other recording equipment and try to get the idea down as soon as it was conceived, but I rarely do record these mysterious events. I feel like, first and foremost, these songs were not my gifts to the world, but rather they were God's gift to me. It's almost as if that's the most effective way to show me that He's still there. I understand that and acknowledge it, but the world probably would care less. At most, they would attribute a thing from God as merely a thing from a man, and they would give a man the glory for a time, but eventually they would move onto the next trivial novelty once they've used up and destroyed that idol person...kind of like what happened to Kurt Cobain. Don't throw pearls before swine, the good book says... because swine consume anything and everything and don't differentiate holy from mundane. Moreover, they might turn and try to eat you, too.

I believe that's why there are not more signs and miracles in the modern day. People would see and hear about them, but for the most part, they would not be more inclined to attribute those miracles to God than they are to attribute crop circles to advanced inter-dimensional lifeforms. I know people think that we're so much more intellectually advanced today and that people in Jesus's day must have been willing to believe in any irrational thing, but I highly doubt this is true. We've always been a culture full of charlatans, thieves, and false prophets. True spiritual experiences, true men of God, they do not appear often, and especially back then in the time of prophets, they would have been extra suspicious of any sort of holy workers. I believe we live in a time where the exact mediums of cultural skepticism have changed, but the level of weariness to believe remains much the same. Perhaps skepticism was even greater back in the times of Jesus because life was so much harsher and bleaker. To believe in a false teacher or a delusion was literally a matter of life and death. Now,we can sit around in our armchairs and fill our heads with delusions because it doesn't necessarily cost us our ability to survive to believe in extraterrestrial saviors or higher vibrational paradigm shifts. We can just sit in front of the computer and watch endless hours of youtube videos where people say whatever they want... and to believe doesn't cost you your life. Back then... beliefs would regularly get people killed, and those willing to die horrible deaths for their beliefs better have been damn sure it was worth it.

So that's what it comes down to, I guess. Am I willing to die for art? No. Art is nothing more than spiritual vomit. Am I willing to suffer and die for God? I can't say for sure until the day comes when that decision might need to be made, but it certainly seems like a better bet than dying for something which is clearly not everlasting or imbued with any transcendental qualities. Why die for something so ultimately insignificant?

God, The Devil, Heaven and Hell, and a few things in between...

The angel taunted as Jacob struggled against it, "Why are you hitting yourself?"


I haven't written on this blog for a while. It's been apparently like 4 years. The last blog post I wrote, I think I might have been tripping on some sort of psychedelic substance, because it reads like some sort of early 20th century mad poet.

I think it makes sense, though. The fear that I was talking about... we want to not be afraid anymore. More specifically, we want to feel safe. Safety is the prerequisite factor for all art, science, and culture of any kind. However, in the absence of any more or less absolute sense of safety, it might seem more practical instead to do away with the source of fear, which is ourselves. More specifically, it is our sense of self, and if we can do away with that sense, then we will not experience fear or pain anymore. If we can never be safe, at least we can be relieved of the fear of danger, injury, and death. As someone once said to me, "You need to step out of your own way."

And so it is that more and more people these days, in the growing absence of a God-centered view on transcendent matters, that more people would pray for the removal of that source of fear than the assurance of safety.

Back when I wrote my first blog post, I was steeped in mystical and occult thinking, partially fueled by LSD and other psychedelic drugs, partially by my own desire to find meaning from direct personal experience of the divine through my own efforts, and mainly due to my own ignorance of the limitations that such a cosmic philosophy could possibly have. I had given in, first, to the idea that God was merely a human constructed mythical being expressing man's own intrinsic desire to transcend his own mortality, and secondly to the idea that there was a way by which a man could transcend his own mortality, and that there was a divine nature which could only be attained by years or perhaps lifetimes of diligent effort. Reincarnation plays a large part in the mystical philosophy, and essentially reincarnation is a spiritual evolution theory, by which the essence of what makes us alive is constantly learning lessons and ascending to inhabit more perfected forms.

However, I discovered a flaw in that philosophy which I first encountered in Buddhism and Hinduism... in Hinduism, it is the idea of karma, and the idea that the cosmos is not linear, but rather cyclical in nature. In Buddhism, this is known as the dharma wheel, samsara, or the cycle of rebirth. It didn't dawn upon me how flawed this system was until I experienced, to my horror, a kind of eternal deja vu. I think the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche referred to this phenomenon as the idea of "eternal recurrence"... and it is hinted at in Kurt Vonnegut's novel, Slaughterhouse Five... where the aliens viewing the main character tell him that he was a part of an eternal cycle which always begins and ends the same way, where he is always destined to repeat the same actions because his actions are both pre-determined by the past and necessary for the unfolding of the future. In the East, the answer to this problem is by attainment of moksha, Nirvana, liberation from the neverending cycle of birth and death. However, upon further inspection, both through personal experience and deeper study into Eastern philosophy, this state of liberation is eventually realized to be one and same as samsara. A zen master once declared that Nirvana and Samsara were the same thing. Liberation, then, only implies that one's mind is absorbed into the light of unconsciousness, and the mind/spirit/soul ceases to experience anything whatsoever. It is the state of non-existence. Nothingness.

When first wrestling with this realization, my ignorance of the limitations of such a system and the impossibility of such a system being a self-sustaining absolute was expressed only as an unnamed, unspeakable, all-consuming existential angst. I was crippled by this angst, but at the same time I was convinced that I was at fault for feeling that way, and that more experience and more transcendence of my own self would eventually do away with this feeling, which I believed to be ultimately irrational, due only to my stubborn belief that life had to mean something more than what I was presented with, which was the "ultimate truth" of non-existence and the illusion of all things.

This highly Eastern-influenced mentality was at the same time coupled with the Western mentality, which was the occult, magic, and tribal shamanism... and I had found some temporary relief from that uncreated light in the darkness of esoteric thought. Within that seemingly protected womb of darkness, the entirety of the cosmos seemed to become a sort of giant mysterious playground, full of angels, demons, warlocks and witches, and absolutely any other god or creature that I could find hiding there. Where entire universes could be built in that dark space which was the astral palace of my own mind, and I was the center of an entirely new creation. This seemed to be the only relief, the only shelter, from the crushing angst of the eternal void. I was convinced that this was the only proper course, since God had been proven to be a false concept, and all things in existence now rested entirely within the confines and controls of my own mind, if only I were disciplined and purified enough to wield such wisdom.

Through much destructive folly on my part, and yet only by the power of the intercession of another Being from somewhere outside of my mind and the cosmos as a whole, I slowly began to discern the fact that all I had come to realize, all I had come to believe, everyone I had come to trust along this way, and all I had come to be in the midst of, was part of the most insidious lie that the universe has ever known. Many truths which were once obvious during the time before I became "enlightened" were now obscured by this false light and its even greater darkness, and many falsehoods which I had come to believe as truths had powerfully gripped my mind in a profound and seemingly endless state of delusion, misery, and death. All the cosmos lie at my feet, stinking as a rotten corpse, yet raging and screaming, aflame with furious anger and hatred towards my terrible discovery, this revelation of all that is unholy.

It was the first time since I was a kid, that I began to suspect and yearn for the reality of God Almighty. However... much still stood in the way, and Satan Himself was waiting at the center of the bottomless pit into which I had fallen.

For some people such as myself, it is impossible to believe in the reality of God without first knowing the reality of Satan.

Christ himself, when first filled with the holy spirit, was led into the wilderness... and although he was sent, blessed, and sanctified by God, still even he, the Holy One of The Lord, stood alone in a hostile desert, and was tempted by the evil one...

It was into this very same wilderness I was led, and it was in this wilderness that I finally came to understand the great and terrible spiritual power which lords over the earth, where I met Lucifer himself face to face, and very nearly was overcome... this great power, which like a lion, singles out the weak in their most vulnerable state of helplessness...

In the future, I will elaborate more on the specifics of my realization and encounter with the evil one, and also the spiritual state which this lord of the earth uses to enslave us, sin.

Great Space

I'm no longer a musician. I'm no longer a title. I have no name. I work for no man.

More and more lately, reference to my self is purely mechanical. If I were to say 'someone' or 'no one' or 'void filling itself inside itself in relation to itself', we would all get very confused.

I Am That I Am. That pain is the pain of everyone. That fear is the fear of everyone. The explosion which makes us jump out of bed at night and stumble through the dark, injuring our toes and perhaps smashing our hips into table corners... it is the condensed fear of an entire Universe. Those convulsions.... those blinding blasts of rushing images and sounds..... those are leaky valves in the vessel holding the fear, like a rabid animal in a cage made of chicken wire. It barely contains the sound and the fury. Sooner or later, it will break wide open, and the flood of it all may be overwhelming. It may even kill its containing vessel.

Pray that Fear may flee from It gently.