Catch-22

There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to.

Sometimes you just can't win. 2:40

The silent wave.

Come back you silent hour, so we could die again—
by night that washed away the pain that comes here to remain.

By blood red dawn we'll leave this killing emptiness, and ever to bring death and grief to me — to wander with our grief. A void in blackness will remain to keep a secret dream. Don't bother the enchanted flame just drawn in pain; again. I long to burn, I long to mourn. Forever we'll remain. To die again, with sweetest pain.
To stay away by grey—
by grey long shadows on a grave.

To watch the mortals die. To be eternal silent slaves of death.
To meet again.
To die in vain.

Whispers

I'll give you all I've got to give.
It's never too late to say I'm sorry.
We have one life to live,
that'll be the beginning of a great story.

You are my sun in the darkness of the night.
You are my ice land on the sea of memories.
You are my sun in the darkness of the night
and be my eyes when I lose my sight.

Give more than you can take,
then I'll give us a second chance.
We have one life to live,
I'll give you all I've got to give.

Like the moonlight, you're showing me the way.
Like heroine you course in my veins.
I like your whispering in the dark,
there are whispers of the past.

You are hiding deep inside my dreams.

This is the life

O novo vício.

Oh, the wind whistles down the cold dark street tonight
And the people, they were dancing to the music vibe
And the boys chase the girls with the curls in their hair
While the shy tormented youth sit way over there
And the songs they get louder each one better than before

And you're singing the songs, thinking this is the life
And you wake up in the morning and your head feels twice the size
Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna sleep tonight?

So your heading down the road in your taxi for four
And you're waiting outside Jimmy's front door
But nobody's in and nobody's home 'til four
So you're sitting there with nothing to do
Talking about Robert Riger and his motley crew
And where you're gonna go and where you're gonna sleep tonight

And you're singing the songs, thinking this is the life
And you wake up in the morning and your head feels twice the size
Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna sleep tonight?

Prozium

Os altos e baixos da vida podem magoar. Pode-se sentir feliz, triste, deprimido; uma série de emoções sobre uma qualquer disposição ou estímulo.

Sente-se zangado? Prozium. Triste? Prozium. Há algo que hoje simplesmente o está a deixar menos bem? Prozium! Equilibre todo o seu dia, e sinta-se preparado para qualquer coisa!

Tome-o de manhã e viaje durante todo o dia com facilidade e confiança. Tome-o à noite, para ser capaz de lidar com as questões e complicações da família, de relações, ou simplesmente caos interior. Prozium irá acalmar-lhe a alma.

PROZIUM é a resposta para poder viver de forma equilibrada, calma e segura, perante qualquer obstáculo que a vida possa trazer.

The Calls of Cthulhu

No, no, no.
The bigger problem is Cthulhu as a confidant.
He never leaves when you're ready for bed, he drinks all the beer out of your fridge, and he's always talking about Yog-Sothoth behind its back when you'd wish he'd give it a rest. But the worst, very worst thing about being friendly with Cthulhu is the way he will fill up your answering machine when you're pretending you're not home, dialing and dialing and dialing to ask if you got his last message and would you call him back and if he's not in he has his cell....

Once you're friends with him, you'll never stop dealing with the calls of Cthulhu.

by revnk

There don't seem to be so many laughs around these days.

Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the rains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout "Save us!" and I'll look down and whisper "No." They had a choice, all of them. They could have followed in the footsteps of good men like my father, or president Truman. Decent men who believed in a day's work for a day's pay. Instead they followed the droppings of lechers and communists and didn't realize that the trail led over a precipice until it was too late. Don't tell me they didn't have a choice. Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smoothtalkers, and all of a sudden nobody can think of anything to say.

On friday night, a comedian died in new york. Someone threw him out of a window and when he hit the sidewalk his head was driven up into his stomach.
Nobody cares.
Nobody cares but me.

Are they right? Is it futile? Soon there will be war. Millions will burn. Millions will perish in sickness and misery. Why does one death matter against so many? Because there is good and there is evil, and evil must be punished. Even in the face of armageddon I shall not compromise in this. But there are so many deserving of retribution and there is so little time.

Let there be light.

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

And the earth was without form, and void.
And darkness was upon the face of the deep.
And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.
And God said, "Let there be light".
...and there was light.


And God saw the light, that it was good, and God divided light from the darkness.

And God created a dual universe.
And he said, "Be not like me. I am alone."
And it might be heard.

The Five and a Half Minute Hallway

I still get nightmares. In fact I get them so often I should be used to them by now.
I'm not.
No one really get's used to nightmares.

I'm so tired. Sleep's been stalking me for too long to remember, innevitable I suppose.
Sadly, I'm not looking forward to the prospect. I say sadly, though, because there was a time when I actually enjoyed sleeping.
In fact, I slept all the time.
--

With a little luck, you'll believe all you've said, and then you'll put it aside (though even here, just that one word, "aside", makes me shudder, for what is ever really just put aside?) and you'll carry on, eat, drink, be merry and most of all you'll sleep well.
Then again there's a good chance you won't.

This much I'm certain of: it doesn't happen immediatly. You'll finish and that will be that, until a moment will come, maybe in a month, maybe in a year, maybe in several years. You'll be sick or feeling troubled or deeply in love or quietly uncertain or even content for the first time in your life. It won't matter. Out of the blue, beyond any cause you can trace, you'll suddenly realize things are not how you perceived them to be at all. For some reason, you will no longer be the person you believed you once were. You'll detect slow and subtle shifts going on all around you, more importantly shifts in you. Worse, you'll realize it's always been shifting, like a shimmer of sorts, a vast shimmer, only dark like a room. But you won't understand why or how. You'll have forgotten what granted you this awareness in the first place.

Old shelters - televisions, magazines, movies - won't protect you anymore. You might try scribbling it in a journal, on a napkin, maybe even in the margins of your keyboard. That's when you'll discover you no longer trust the very walls you always took for granted. Even the hallways you've walked a hundred times will feel longer, much longer, and the shadows, any shadows at all, will suddenly seem deeper, much, much, deeper.

You might try then, as I did, to find a sky so full of stars it will blind you again. Only no sky can blind you now. Even with all that iridiscent magic up there, your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trance constellations. You'll care only about the darkness and you'll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain to believe you're some kind of indispensable, universe-appointed sentinel, as if just by looking you could actually keep it all at bay. It will get so bad you'll be afraid to look away, you'll be afraid to sleep.

Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you'll watch youself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You'll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then, for better or for worse you'll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you've got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.
And then the nightmare will begin.

Apprehension

And what if the moon light made you feel you would die? That none of your dreams ever came true?
There's this star in the sky above, but its light has now faded away and it makes me feel they will never come true, and that my life is through.

Can you feel the wind run? The rain up there, above?
Can you hear all these whispers of life in everything that surrounds you and makes you believe that you can?
Feel the cold night shout, feel all there's to feel.
Hear the silent crys of those left without a star to hang some hope on to, and wish their pain away, oh will you?

And what if the sun light made you think you could fly? What if all your dreams could come true?
There's this star in the sky above and it shines so brightly to me that makes me believe they will one day come true, and you will be right there — it's me and you.

A história da vida e da morte.

Lembranças do sangue a escorrer pelas coxas — permanece no inconsciente. Sem noção, o sabor doce, como o primeiro fôlego desesperado, nunca desaparece. Acasos, que aumentam o fascínio.
O constante palpitar — dor que se aprende e logo se esquece.
Alivia a alma. Impede a vida.
Escorre lentamente.
Assusta na anormalidade quem não conhece o seu desespero.

Escorre por ti abaixo, sai pelas extremidades sem nada fazer. Beleza personificada, pelos traços do inevitável. Sem força. Dependente e doente.
Jazes imóvel no escuro.
Caiem-te dos olhos — as lágrimas divinas pintam-te o rosto. E é a mascara que usas, para todos contemplarem o castigo. Tinta para te escrever, fundo e cravado, um livro de cicatrizes. Conta a história do passado, saboreia o efémero. O gosto que não sente, a memória.

Do ódio nasce o gosto incompreensível que te atormenta. O vazio apodrece os sentidos, desperta a cor. O sangue controla a vida e nada mais. Recordar a fome. Sentir o medo de acordar.
Se viver é recordar prefiro morrer.

Sem força, dependente e doente, jazes imóvel no escuro.

Insaniae

Your thoughts?
I'm waiting.

Your thoughts betray you. I see you have an appetite for destruction, but I find your lack of control disturbing.

Your taunts are unadvised, templar.
You think as I do.

Do not provoke me to violence. You could no more evade my wrath than you could your own shadow.