unveiled behaviors

There's no such thing as knowledge - just unawareness. Voluntary  unawareness.

Its all about to change

"As a long-time friend and collaborator with Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox, Lockett Pundt’s lean towards melancholic guitar mood pieces is totally understandable. Indeed, that guitar work is what comes across as the strongest feature of ‘Spooky Action At A Distance’ – tricky arpeggios and impeccably crafted feedback combine to create bleary, Kurt-Vile-esque smokescapes. Inherently, there is an anthemic quality to much of Pundt’s writing, too, though he cleverly filters it; partly with his dreamily opaque guitar work, and partly with his innate sense for when to check short of a boisterous crescendo. An impressive lesson in subtlety, class and restraint."

Moving past the feeling...

...again.

what happened to you?

Today a friend told me: "you make your own dreams impossible by allowing fear to grow bigger than faith."  It's a well known idea that the true and full value of things is only visible when you lose them. Obviously this knowledge comes far too late. Like an anxious baby bird jumping off his high nest - he thought he could fly - but he couldn't, although he was meant to one day.

Letter to the gods

What is this?

The cleaning process as begun.

All my selfishness is brought out to the open wide and it's there in my landscape were I cannot avoid to see it. But I did thank to all the gods for that. For what I’ve become, for all the superficial mud I had to get rid off for my own sake. And here I am, standing beneath my own cross, ready for my crucifixion, and saying my praises to the gods for this wonderful chance they've decided to give me once again.

There's a time for everything in life. And maybe there is a life for every time and everything. 

My own conception of happiness deludes me as my joy ends up living somewhere else. It's a win-win situation, my visions can be nothing more than the tool, one that keeps pushing me forward and concentrating all my thoughts and feelings in one large dense light. What astonish me is that it keeps growing and how humble, and at the same time, proud, I can feel for that. How grateful I am for my own naivety and childishness! I'm getting close to myself and my conscience vibrates, it becomes lightweight although its carrying the world on its back.

I'm becoming what matters.

It's becoming easier and easier to put myself to bleed as it became easy to laugh and dive straight head-first into joy.

It's time to condensate again.

I've always wanted to know, I was thirsty all my life. Every inch of me has struggle to get deeper and higher.

I'm fearless. There is something powerful inside myself. And it has no regard for my own life. Existence wont matter without it so I've surrender.  I'm driven by it and I let myself go even if I have no idea where it leads.

Purification or death. There was no lost time. Whatever my mission is, whatever comes, it doesn't matters anymore as long as I keep letting myself be driven by this invisible hand. I reckon it's your hand.

For I am you and you are everything.

Sci-fi lullabies

or how I relearned to stop worrying and love the bomb

Lettre du voyant

"I say that one must be a seer, make oneself a seer. The poet makes himself a seer by a long, prodigious, and rational disordering of all the senses. Every form of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he consumes all the poisons in him, and keeps only their quintessences. This is an unspeakable torture during which he needs all his faith and superhuman strength, and during which he becomes the great patient, the great criminal, the great accursed – and the great learned one! – among men. – For he arrives at the unknown! Because he has cultivated his own soul – which was rich to begin with – more than any other man! He reaches the unknown; and even if, crazed, he ends up by losing the understanding of his visions, at least he has seen them! Let him die charging through those unutterable, unnameable things: other horrible workers will come; they will begin from the horizons where he has succumbed!"

 Arthur Rimbaud

The graspable has vanished.

My eyes are now set upon the infinite horizon.

From fragment to fragment

Moss Garden, 183 miles to enclosure point

We set out towards the ocean. Now it was the ice that broke beneath our feet and suddenly we were jumping from one ice piece to another. I was completely disoriented. All machines were turned off so we wouldn't be located. But Holy was a cat of refined senses, sometimes he would stretch his head and shook the cold polar wind from his whiskers. His little wet red nose churned before choosing the next fragment of floating ice to jump to.

We jumped to a larger piece in the center where we decided to stay. Here we should be able to camp in safety and get some rest. I removed a capsule and opened it. Within 5 seconds our home was installed. I chose the aspect of an igloo through Holy's drafts in our logbook. He told me that was how a home should look in there. I found it strange cause it didn't look like anything I have seen before. But Holy's face kept quiet as if he knew everything he had to do and nothing was strange, ultimately, as if he was the sole owner of one big secret.

We went inside the igloo and started sleeping. Holy connected the alert system. I did not understand it very well - there was nothing around us, I found myself all alone - but when the alarm system was activated I immediately noticed a huge white hairy head stuck in the narrow entrance of the igloo.
- "Please help me... I know you can hear me! ... Come get me out of here."
- "And why should we do that?" Holy asked.
- "Because if you don't it will be impossible for you to leave, unless you want to go through my mouth. It's very warm inside me, do you want to come? "Said the shaggy head enthusiastically.
Holy and I looked at his huge eyes when we were startled by a noise coming from is stomach.
- "I'm so hungry ... okay I understand that you wont let me eat you but set me free so that I can go hunting please.” 
- "We will set you free." Holy said.
- "But what then?! ..." I asked. "I do not understand how can you trust that hungry head ..."
- "I do not trust him. He's like a bear, and all their good will doesn't matter, their nature will speak louder. So let's open a hole in the ceiling and then when we are away you will remotely disable the capsule."
And so we did. We distance ourselves until Holy ordered me to turn off the capsule. We saw the bear right there in a distance over a raft of ice, then he disappeared into the water.

…

On a cold day a Bear is lost in his own hunger.
Thus he was born with an extraordinary sense of orientation in space.
Nature works so that we can find ourselves.
Time is always in our favor
even when we flee
from fragment to fragment,
away,
into the icy wastelands.

The Monkey, the crying Forest and the Sea

A very rainy day came to the village. The Mothers were mad, consumed by the fear of seeing the rotting flesh. Humidity was felt, it had the same smell of death. Coffins slide down in those days and no one would deviate from them: some were frightened and stared intently to its downward movement, while others only notice their coffin when it ran over them, and inside them they followed their path. They went down over the wet purple grass. They would reach such speeds (some believe that death has higher gravitational acceleration) that when they finally arrived to their grave, the echo was heard throughout the Forest. Then, the oldest tell, the Monkey would say: 
   "Someone broke into the Sea" 
and the Forest would cry. The Sea wasn't happy about it and would fill itself with rage: he had a volatile temper. And many rainy days came until the sun showed up again. When the rain stopped, the Mothers decided to go after the Monkey. This one, realizing his fate, tore the liver through his mouth and sewed it in his ear, full of hope. The Mothers were very touched by his gesture so they rose up the stumps where they stood and ate out his liver. 

Each coffin came for his Mother, and the Monkey went into the Sea.

 

Skepticism

[in imitation of life]

Happiness comes in the form of a clear night sky & warm concrete.

Gotta find and kill my shadow self

gotta dig up every secret seashell.

[found it, killed it, dig it.]

He Poos Clouds | Final Fantasy | 2006

who am I [untitled spell]

We were in the icy wastes of Antarctica

the crystalline lake of memory

and in those lonely days the world was nothing and the number we made gleamed brightly

like a star

a quasar

pulsing energy through space
and through time.

Memories & dreams dancing together.

The love of the past tense in future time.

Never in the present.

The memories of dreams and memories in dreams.

A place of re-encounter as a childhood island on adult time:

a place where we belong.
The silence.

                      What we are.

The stage where the soul can dance at her own pleasure.

question mark [?]

Wouldn't it be great if for a single moment we could, in the deepest of solitudes, see our life from above, from heaven, from birth to death, concentrated in a single image? And by doing so, knowing what to do and when, without having to have faith in this or that, something or someone, in one or another idea? To simply KNOW, sparing us all to this ridiculous effort that we put ourselves into?

I want to take my pleasures where and how I will

(...)

And without warning when we’re almost at the top
The wheel that turns us all comes to a sudden stop.
The wind that’s blown us dies a quick and painless death
The air gets clammy and we hold each other’s breath
We get the feeling that we’re not alone in this
And then a God who really ought not to exist
Sticks out a great big hand
And grabs me by the wrist
And asks me "why? " and I say
"well god, it’s like this
It may be arrogance
Or just appalling taste
But I’d rather use my pain than let it all go to waste
On some old God who tells me what I want to hear
As if I cannot tell obedience from fear
I want to take my pleasures where and how I will,
Be they disgraceful or distasteful or distilled
And to be frank I find that life has more appeal
Without a driver who’s asleep behind the wheel"

Then God decides that he has taken quite enough
Of all this atheistic tosh I’m spouting off
And so he calls upon his favourite angel choir
To sing of times when men were filled with christian fire
But over-zealous angels flap their wings too fast
And cause the wind to blow and turn the wheel at last
And soon my feet are safely back on solid ground
And then I hear a voice say
"don’t look down!".

[the divine comedy | don't look down | Promenade | 1994] 

Reality Bites

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Because you are to used to harmony in a very classic and feminine way.

- What do you mean?

What did you felt when you first saw those holocaust images of skinny dead bodies all being pushed into a mass grave?

- Like everyone else I suppose, deeply shocked.

Well isn't that shock a reflection of your values regarding life in which you find comfort and by whom you measure good and evil? Isn't that something to be proud about? The ability of feeling someone else pain even if that has happened long ago before you were even born? Can you find a soundtrack to those pictures that can sound harmonious? Is music always supposed to be pretty and comfortable? No, it does not. Music is the same as life and life can be a tragedy, and in tragedy you can often find the deepest human light. Is that last desire for happiness. It's in the darkest place that the smallest light will shine brighter and sparkling clear.

simple

simple

simple it down.

it's been over 4 months since I left my shithole that once I called home.

it's not the 1st time.

it just tastes different now.

it's all damaged around me.

dumb people find sick ways to move on.

and there's no such thing as dumb.

it's all people.

how's being smart working for you?

pretty bad right now.

what advantage can I gain from reading between the lines?

I don't even know

I don't even know

I don't even know the Language.

I know the body and the body has bowels and the bowels move in disgusting circles.

our meat calls for mercy.

humanity claims mercy onto itself.

when did we get so tired of it?

where?

why can't we search for something else?

where lies the roots of our humble acceptance of it all?

& all of it.

I really want to simple it down but this is too much.

it's like a Disney movie, it's Bambi's mother dying one thousand times per second
and all you have to do is to pay enough tax.

trying to go back now

to the island

childhood

cliché

cliché.

nothing is more important than being original.

simple it down.

right vs left

We think of ourselves as free minded. Most of us think differently in regard to our fathers. Almost all of us think of our grandfathers as people with a very strict set of preconceptions. We are all wrong. We built new layers of preconceptions over the old ones and we call ourselves free minded. You aren't free, you are as selfish and self centered as anyone else. Our preconceptions are so strong and well rooted that we don't even notice them. We can't conceive them as that, we can't even find their source and their limits. Until you step into a different culture and you start to wonder about all the little things you take for granted. Things you think "oh it's ok". Things you don't even think anymore. Suddenly the though "is it really ok?!" pops into your head, and there you go, for a moment you are free, then you do everything you can to build a new wall between yourself, what you really are, and everyone around you. I wonder if this is part of Huxley's view of a mankind locked and slave of the left brain. And I know that creativity throws you away from preconceptions, at least for awhile. So I find a new paradox: Those who don't think that much actually have it a lot easier but they do carry with them all the ugly filters of society. Those who do think more than the common mortal, have all this bumps ready for them in the journey to find themselves. One thing makes us run: beauty. Art. Cause we wont live without it. Painful awareness is a fair price to pay.

Left my name with the border guards

Arcade Fire | Black wave/Bad Vibrations | 2007

...a name that I don't need.
Ce sera un long voyage
sur les vagues de l'oubli.


 

Obstacle 1

Obstacle 1 - Language.

Obstacle 1 | Interpol | 2002

Somewhere along the way I've forgot that each word and expression that I had, in my own native language, were my own and nobody's else. I forgot it took me over ten years to develop it. It was still growing. And suddenly you find your brain inside four concrete walls. You realize language is nothing more than a tool to your thoughts and currently I've lost a great bunch of tools. Without the number of tools I was used to, my thought cannot translate into words and sentences in the same variety they used to. So I feel dumb. Imprisoned inside my own skull. Even now I'm not sure about what I'm writing, there's always this fear present deep inside cause you can't feel confident enough with these rusty tools that someday, someone, taught you how to use. I haven't got the time to fully experiment them yet. Mistakes are expected in a large scale. I'm constantly embarrassed. It's like I'm a 6 year old kid again, back to school and learning how to properly wright down a sentence. And I thought it would be easy... It's quite a challenge, one I'm happy to take on.

A New Career In A New Town

It isn't Berlin. It isn't America either. It's the old UK where it all starts, I'm here now.

A new career in a new town | David Bowie | 1977

Long term convictions

[Someone found Björk vids to be quite suitable. They are indeed.]

Got Blinded | Toro Y Moi | 2011

A man of long term convictions is a dead man. We ought to seek new ways and new perspectives as we are far from anything that can really be called "truth". Ignorance is the most common form of certainty. Ultimately, the love for truth and beauty is the only thing I can see who's capable of providing the leap between the animal man and humanity. Mutual respect between living organisms and mutual respect in mankind. A Lion won't hunt with his stomach full, why should we? We should feed our brains they're the ones starving to death and with them the whole planet. Seeking truth and enjoying every simple pleasure our mother earth provides to it's full extent is the only happiness I foresee. Defy any establish idea. If nothing grows out of it, you'll prove its rightness. If you find something, then mankind is one step closer. Consciousness is everything. The word "emotion" has been used out of its true context to seduce people. Critical thought is essential and must be taught to children & adults. Every human hear and every human neuron must be open and ready to process. Everyone needs to be open  enough to share. As they say, "sharing is caring" - very valid thought - I have myself questioned it over and over again. It still stands.