Ours is the fury » Death

Fables

Art — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 15:45:20 +0000

“All this time we got the fable of sleeping beauty wrong. He didn’t kiss her to wake her up. No one who’s slept for a hundred years is likely to wake up. It was the other way around. He kisses her to wake himself up from the nightmare that had brought him there.”

“I think of the immutable, cold laws governing the cause and effect. You come to, amongst the wreckage of your own making. Do you shut your eyes, lie still and hope to bleed to death? Or do you scrape yourself together, crawl over the edge and keep walking?”

“Death, is inevitable. Our fear of it makes us play safe. Blocking out emotion. That, however, is a losing game. Without passion, you’re already dead”.

“With a difficult choice ahead – time slows down, you see it all, heartbreak and scars”.

“Now that I was with her, I was reluctant to hear her answers”.

“X was right. There are no choices. Nothing but a straight line. The illusion comes afterwards. When you ask, why me, why now. You look back and see the branches, like a pruned bonsai tree – or a forked lightning. Had you done something differently, it wouldn’t be you – it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions.”

“A beginning, is a very delicate time”.

“Twist the drama of the play to get you by”.

“The devil grins from ear to ear when he sees the hand he’s dealt us
points at your flaming hair, and then we’re playing hide and seek
I can’t breathe easy here, less our trail’s gone cold behind us”

he devil grins from ear to ear when he sees the hand he’s dealt us
points at your flaming hair, and then we’re playing hide and seek
I can’t breathe easy here, less our trail’s gone cold behind us

The devils own

Art — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 20:53:03 +0000

I remember a psychology column where a young girl asked the editor what she could do to help her 91-year old grandmother in the final stages of her life. Her granny had become ethereal, incoherent and calm. The young girl was at a loss towards the old womans complacency. The editor responded that it was her belief that the old lady in question was indeed preparing herself to die and had entered a state that she referred to as “geotranscendant”.

Geotranscendance, she continued, is supposed to be a form of acceptance of the process of dying – often manifesting itself towards the end of someones life as the person in question shuns the world and comes to terms with those that have died before him or her. Often, the subject will talk of long gone relatives, mothers, fathers etc.

It struck me as a very obnoxious way of dying. Fuck that, I thought. When my time comes, the devil better be dragging me backwards, kicking and screaming all the 5000 miles into hell. I shall not go willingly. I shall not submit to the vile mechanics of biology, injecting me with hormones, making me docile and otherworldly, accepting the matter at hand. Die as you live. Presently.

El Cielo Protector

Art — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 14:10:02 +0000

“Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well, yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.”

(The Sheltering Sky)

Death is the high cost of living

Art — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 08:36:27 +0000

Ok. Fine. So I started out making a simple reading log for myself. I struggled with not letting my thoughts contaminate the purity of the idea. And I lost. So there. Here are the random thoughts, the snippets, the semibiographical entries. Oh god. Not again.

Cutting to the chase: Have you ever wondered what the devil would look like should you meet him? A fallen, tarnished angel is always way more interesting than a pristine, even prissy, one. I came to think of the devil in the Sandman series. A character so tired of hell, its intrigues and workings, the banality of evil – that he resurfaces on earth – as a bar pianist. That one particular supporting role must be one of the most hidden gems of film and graphic novel history.

What he looks like? Well. I think Neil Gaiman said it best himself when asked about who might play Lucifer in the Sandman (now defunct) film:

“(…)You must draw David Bowie. Find David Bowie, or I’ll send you David Bowie. Because if it isn’t David Bowie, you’re going to have to redo it until it is David Bowie.’ So I said, ‘Okay, it’s David Bowie.’…”