necessary. evil?

Nice work

more stars than in the heavens

hannibal-season-2-first-photo-mads-mikklesen

Back to the land of dreams, or nightmares, whichever.  Obviously, I have been excited beyond measure for the return of Hannibal.  And I have not been disappointed: the second season is, thus far, a phantasmagoria of horror and black humor and food porn.  What more could you want from a TV show?

Perhaps because I have nothing else going on in my life, I’ve become one of those people who think a lot about TV shows.  You should all thank your lucky stars I don’t write for Salon or something, because I could go Wank-Fest Think Piece with this very, very easily.  Anyway, here goes.  Mads Mikkelsen, when asked (somewhat unimaginatively) whether he agrees that he brings a new sexiness to the role of Hannibal Lecter, replied: “Well, there is a sexiness to the devil. And I think he is as close as you can come to the devil…

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Roots

Never shall we die…
Never shall our sins overtake us and leave us wallowing in our miserable pits of despair and misery. Never shall our deeds bury us, and never shall the sins we commit today determine the forgiveness of tomorrow.
Never shall we die…
Never shall we abandon the memories of feathered past and anticipation of the beautiful plumage of the peacock. Never shall we lose sight of the path that lay behind us in hope that the winding road that lay before us shall be better than the magic of the past. Blessed forgetfulness, depart, this day. Leave me with my memory and let her plague me and tell me tales of deeds long gone. Deeds that I shall never forget.
Never shall we die.
Thieves and beggars, Senators and princes, let us tread this yellow sun-baked road, in hopes of finding salvation in the past. The future doesn’t exist. It is a mirage created by the present to remove our consciousness from the most important part of our existence…. THE PAST.
Never again…
Never again shall we leave history to old men… Never again shall we leave matters of aeons ago to the students who read dusty tomes and rusty books. Never shall we believe that the future shall be better as if by magic. We must return to the past. We must return to the roots. We must become alive again and instead of seeking nourshment from the bland, bleak sky, we must seek food from down below. We must seek food from where we came from. We must seek food from the hands that nursed us and the legs that bore us. We must seek food from the back that laboured for us and the breasts that suckled us. We must seek food from the lands that gave us fruit and the beasts that gave us meat. We must seek food from the God that gave us life. We must feed or we must perish.
Never shall we die.
Never shall we perish… never shall our hearts be turned from wisdom in the mouth of the blabbering octogenarian. Never shall our ears be averse to truth from the books that preach life. Never again shall we shut our eyes to true enlightenment. Never again shall we be drowning in information but utterly starved for knowledge. Never again shall we perish from lack of understanding. Never again shall the pure truth of the universe escape us… Never again.
Death solves all things…
He is a healer. The final fatality of existence is the death of Death himself. Put Death to death and we shall witness the eternity that so many religions profess. Put Him to his own blade and witness with glee the power of resurrection. Put Death to death. Rise up and live.
Accompany me as we live… as we inhale this putrid air and hope that our lungs purify it in efforts to live forever. Accompany me for I cannot do it alone. Be with me as I have been with you since the beginning of time. Be with me for without me, there is no you and without you, there is no me and without you and me, there is no us and without us, there is no reality and without reality, we do not exist. Let us give ourselves life eternal… that is not dead which can eternally live and with aeons as these sprawled before us, even Death may die.
We are one, though reality has warped the truth to make us believe differently. We are one creation… the dreams of God in His eternal daydream. The objects of God’s imagination. The items of God’s creativity. He did not make two of us. He made us one… And unless God has more than one image, or Genesis is lying, we are not different.
I am not that which you see… I am not the body you can hold, you can strike, you can heal, you can kill… I am not the hands who typed this text… I am not the image I represent… I AM NOT BROWNE.
I am he who will live eternal, because he has noticed and awoken to the truth that time is an illusion. I am the mind that inhabits this carcass. I am the mind that will go on to become liberated because the hooks of reality has failed to hold me down. I am the soul that was created in God’s image. I am the one who chooses to love because in there, I see heaven, complete with streets paved with gold and emerald encrusted lampstands and ruby doorknobs, and I am not willing to let human sentiment spoil it for me. I am the one who implores you:
GO BACK TO THE ROOTS AND WITNESS THE TRUTHS THAT HAVE BEEN HIDDEN BY THE FACADE OF THE FUTURE. THE FUTURE DOES NOT EXIST. GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM… YOU CANNOT BUILD CASTLES IN THE SKY… PUT YOUR PAST IN ORDER AND LIVE IN THE PRESENT AND PUT DEATH TO DEATH.

Thank you.
Yours sincerely,
Bruno

Just thoughts

I honestly think drama is unnecessary.
What I mean is this, where something is not overtly important, let it be. But where it is, it is wise, nay, important that we do not miss a step in pursuance of it. We have been imbued with an overwhelming capacity for stupidity which was reformed and termed “love”. And only the human mind can invent something as banal  and insipid as love, which is why it works for us.
This is the basis for my rhetoric: I love a person, who does not love me back and instead of replying in like terms, I cannot stop loving the person. How is that for a metaphysical paradox? This makes us wrestle with how we feel and what we know. This tourney gets so aggravated that it leads to conflict and we develop two personas that have totally divergent views on the matter… two sovereigns living under one roof… one has to die.
As a human, you have to, occassionally, put to death some parts of us in order to let another live, so we kill the love and let the ego win.
Works for us.
Works for me.
Murder uninhibited, and no one is the wiser.
Greetings from the Rhetor