Days and nights… They’re all the same. Up! Down! Right! Left!
All the same. The sun becomes the moon becomes the sun becomes the moon becomes the sun becomes the moon becomes the sun. Nothing maters. There is only the road, the mark, trajectory. The plan.
Välkommen till 508 motherfukkers
“-How could I sacrifice this momentum, this gravity, for anything but stagnation, a cage, a bottle and a grave?”
Give me one more day. Now!
In the land of the blind the one eyed man is not king.
He is anathema, pariah, outcast. Unbelieved, unwanted, unclaimed, unused.
In fact he may not know himself to be one eyed at all.
In the land of the blind the king is blind.
I am not the king in your land.
The pig is not blind.
Right in-between a good, productive decition and a really, really bad one there is a state of grace. Productivity is hard work. Destructivity is just all fun and games. Hovering between the two, edging back and forth, never settling for one or the other. That’s Grace.
From the perspective of the lunatic bystander: Observing in the throng an individual capable of maintaining this state of dynamic, disharmonious flux, of living in the paradox, one finds an equal. Not another victim. One observes their Graces. And it saves them.
(Pic by Erik Nordlund. Screen shot from up-coming video for Superheated Liquid Iron Core)
I am the pig!
All hail ME!
Parched. Not forgotten but disregarded. Studiously overlooked. Dying. Thats when the flowering happens. When precious moisture and nourichment is furthest away.
Outside spring is coming. Chill and threateningly bright. In the kitchen of the 508 the windowsill is a desert. Man made desert. Controled. Manufactured. Owned.
I am cactae. I made this ledge where I’m standing. A flowering is comeing. A death. I’m going down. We’re all going down. But like the cactus I’m doing it in style.
– Void (astronomy), the empty spaces between galaxy filaments.
– Void (law), something that has no legal effect.
– Void (art), is a sculptural concept.
– Void (Buddhism) Shunyata, philosophical concept.
– Void (cards), to have no cards of a particular suit in one’s hand during a card game.
– Void (boiling heat transfer), formed where there is a departure from nucleate boiling, causing a critical heat flux.
Or you could just look it up your selves.
It’s all in the Mind…
It’s all in the Mind…
It’s all in the Mind…
Monsters are for the cage. The stage is a cage as good as any.
Well there we are.
This is a forum for my unfettered expandings and ravings.
My overturned box in a street corner. My sandwich board.
You’re free to leave at anytime. I don’t adapt. I’m unadaptable.
Et Voila: Let me expand on The Beast.
He came to us first in the form of a pressing weight. An animal presence in the back seat of Davids piece of shit car on the ride back from our first weekend in Erik Forsbergs underground sanctum. It was 2009 and we had recorded a DEMO. And for the first time we got to listen to what we really had been playing all along in that damp, moldy, dump of a rehearsal space. And there he was. Sitting behind us. Impossibly huge, warm. Menacing.
We’ve gotten to know him better over the years. As the great pig of our dreams. Sharing his blood. As flitting, feline shapes around the 508. Walking the boundaries. As specters in the dark with Krügeresque knifed fingers. Prodding us to go on. To proceed in the face of impossibility. And I keep expecting the fear to loose it’s edge. Familiarity to set in.
But it never does.
In the deep places he made us. Just as we have made him. Up here on the surface.
He is our guide. Our judge. Our teratoid traveling companion.
He is Septekh.
How is this possible?
Every time I turn around there is a new unique opportunity to fail. To surrender. To acquiesce. To conform. To die.
Always empty. Always full of nothing but words and promises and excuses and restlessness. Indeed a cage a bottle and a grave.
So how could I sacrifice this momentum? This gravity?
I could not. Will not. I can do no other thing with my time than deliver this same lesson over and over again. Until you can get it into your thick fucking skull that there is no peace. There is no relief. There is no escape and there is no closure.
You are alone every fucking second of every fucking day. And everything you will ever create will be destroyed.
Welcome! Nice to have you.