Viss ir redzams

“For debased souls religion is a yoke imposed, through self-interest, by the poltrooneries of fear and the follies of hope. For exalted souls religion is a force, springing from an intensified reliance in the love of humanity. Religion is the collective poesy of great souls. Her fictions are more true than Truth itself; vaster than Infinity; more lasting than Eternity; in other words, they are essentially paradoxical. They are the dream of the Infinite in the Unknown, of the Possible in the Impossible, of the Definite in the Indefinable, of Progress in the Immutable, of Absolute Being in the Non-existent. They are the ultimate rationale of the Absurdity, which affirms itself, to deny doubt; they are the science of foolishness, the embrace of Folly and Knowledge. They are the cries of the eagle mounting above the clouds, the roar of the lion of the Apocalypse, that takes to itself wings and flies away; the bellowing of the bull beneath the sacrificial knife, and the never ending moan of mankind before the portals of the tomb.” — Paradoxes of the Highest Science by Eliphas Levi

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Ai ziniet, to apņemšanos atzīmēties ar piesekošanu kādam tumblrā, to gan es nepildu, tāpēc pagaidām iehujārīšu kaut ko random maldinoši dramatisku (tulkoju psīcholoģisku šausmu trilleri astotais elles loks, xoxoxo):

p.s. dienasgrāmatas vakar spamotais Mirstiet Cilvēki ir sasodīti garšīks, man tur vietām (ļoti subjektīvi, protams) ieskanas kā novy svet, fuck buttons un vēlīnā der blutharsch psihodēlija kopā, te ir novilkt viss elbūms (old europa cafe relīzs, st. citu), ja interesē.

If you imagine the 4,500-bilion-odd years of Earth’s history compressed into a normal earthly day, then life begins very early, about 4 A.M., with the rise of the first simple, single-celled organisms, but then advances no further for the next sixteen hours. Not until almost 8:30 in the evening, with the day five-sixths over, has Earth anything to show the universe but a restless skin of microbes.

Then, finally, the first sea plants appear, followed twenty minutes later by the first jellyfish and the enigmatic Ediacaran fauna first seen by Reginald Sprigg in Australia. At 9:04 P.M. trilobites swim onto the scene, followed more or less immediately by the shapely creatures of the Burgess Shale. Just before 10 P.M. plants begin to pop up on the land. Soon after, with less than two hours left in the day, the first land creatures follow.

Thanks to ten minutes or so of balmy weather, by 10:24 the Earth is covered in the great carboniferous forests whose residues give us all our coal, and the first winged insects are evident. Dinosaurs plod onto the scene just before 11 P.M. and hold sway for about three-quarters of an hour. At twenty-one minutes to midnight they vanish and the age of mammals begins. Humans emerge one minute and seventeen seconds before midnight.

The whole of our recorded history, on this scale, would be no more than a few seconds, a single human lifetime barely an instant. Throughout this greatly speeded-up day continents slide about and bang together at a clip that seems positively reckless. Mountains rise and melt away, ocean basins come and go, ice sheets advance and withdraw. And throughout the whole, about three times every minute, somewhere on the planet there is a flash-bulb pop of light marking the impact of a Manson-sized meteor or one even larger. It’s a wonder that anything at all can survive in such a pummeled and unsettled environment. In fact, not many things do for long.

— Bill Bryson, A Short History of Nearly Everything

[ B-52 Bone Yard by Alex MacLean ]

“Interest, interesse, means to be among and in the midst of things, or to be at the center of a thing and to stay with it. But today’s interest accepts as valid only what is interesting, and interesting is the sort of thing which can freely be regarded as indifferent the next moment, and be displaced by something else, which then concerns us just as little as what went before. Many people think that they are doing something a great favor by finding it interesting. The truth is that such an opinion has already relegated the interesting thing to the ranks of what is indifferent and soon boring.”

  — Martin Heidegger, What is Called Thinking?

“Faith is a torment. It is like loving someone who is out there in the darkness but never appears, no matter how loudly you call.”
       — The Seventh Seal (1957)


If we don’t, remember me.

(simpātiski minimāliski hipnotizējoši kīnōfigviņi ar citātiem)

“Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one, a moment, in childhood, when it first occurred to you that you don’t go on forever. It must have been shattering, stamped into one’s memory. And yet I can’t remember it. It never occurred to me at all. We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we know the word for it, before we know that there are words, out we come, bloodied and squalling… with the knowledge that for all the points of the compass, there’s only one direction and time is its only measure.”

— Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead

1998. vai 1999. gadā Toms Stopards viesojās Rīgā, protams, man nezināmu iemeslu dēļ, arī LU Svešvalodu un Filoloģijas fakultātē, kurā šim notikumam par godu visi klātesošie angļu programmas studenti (imean, studentes) tika no lekcijām aiztriekti uz aktu zāli uz patētisku tikšanos ar ievērojamo mākslinieku, par kura ievērojamību, jāatzīst, tolaik nezināju pat es. Tā nu viņš tur nabags stāvēja pārsimts vaguely ieintriģētu apdivdesmitgadīgu, pārsvarā slāviskas izcelsmes meiteņu priekšā, ievērojamā neizpratnē par to, kāpēc viņš − bruņinieks un Oskara laureāts, vispār šeit uzaicināts, līdz brīdim, kad publikā tomēr atradās kāds kungs, kas iznāca priekšā parunāt ar viņu kaut ko par teātri − man liekas, tas bija tas pats plikpaurainais vīrs, kurš kopā ar dēlu vēlāk (vai jau tolaik) darbojās amatierteātrī AKA. Bet iespējams, ka es kļūdos. Vispār biju plānojis pukstēt par zvaigznēm, nevis pirkstu, taču pieņemsim, ka mani interesē dziļuma un bezgaumības attiecības jeb tas, cik viegli patiesu insaitu iespējams sadirst ar kaut ko triviālu. Pareizāk sakot, kā vārdā vispār kaut kas tāds jādara?

p.s. Jau trešo dienu velku un pamazām klausos visu Рада и Терновник diskogrāfiju. Būtu agrāk zinājis, ka tik foršs projekts, ietu uz visiem koncertiem, nevis tikai to vienu Smiļģa muzejā.

Расскажи о том, где ты не был

Ja es šo žurnālu uztvertu nopietni, es pārdzīvotu, ka tajā ir tik maz tekstu – vienas bildes. Taču es zinu, ka vairumā gadījumu tas materializējas tikai kā epizodisks kāda draugu lentas elements, tāpēc nemaz nepārdzīvoju. Tomēr apsveru iespēju ar atpakaļejošu datumu te bīdīt iekšā, es nezinu, kaut kādus citātus vai, jo tīri estētiski prasās vairāk burtiņu, bet pašam tā īsti rakstīt neko negribas – ja gribas, tad ne vairāk kā pāris teikumus, ar ko, manuprāt, arī pilnīgi pietiek, lai fiksētu domu. Bet ar to ir par maz, lai radītu nopietna žurnāla iespaidu. Vēl varētu kaut ko tā viltīgi kombinēt, varbūt sanāktu. Piemēram, par meitenēm:

1. “I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down. That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty... you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are.”
 ~J.D. Salinger

2. Paskatījos Suicide Girls cīņukluba inscinējumu. Vispār nesmuki :/ (es pat nelikšu linku, bet vimeo ir)

3. Trīs (četras) lietas, kas manās acīs izdaiļo jebkuru meiteni - bizes, vainags, svārki... un smaids, protams :)


Eh, laikam nē, pārāk daudz atstarpju, man vajag vienu lielu teksta blāķi, kuru neviens nelasītu.

Es pats esmu visu lietu mēris.

O, te būs mana atbilde uz veģetāriešu melnajām apenēm:



Nē, tās cūkas nav beigtas, vienkārši piedzērušās.


upd. atradu kaut kāda mācītāja citātu, kas visprecīzāk atspoguļo manu nostāju:

The whole of nature, as has been said, is a conjugation of the verb to eat, in the active and in the passive.
 ~William Ralph Inge

( ... tālāk ... )

Es, kas radu gaismu un veidoju arī tumsību, kas dod svētību, bet arī ļaunu; Es esmu Tas Kungs, kas visu to dara!

/Jesajas grāmata, 45:7/

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