Update

 Just to show I'm still alive.

The Witcher Zeitgeist

I've been drinking, and in this period of bliss I seem to have stumbled on the realization of how much Sapkowski's Witcher (Hexer) novels have already been brought to the awareness of the audience at large. The CD project Red games and now the upcoming Netflix Witcher tv-series have managed to elevate this, really quite sub-par series of fantasy novels, to a level of fame that in a different age, an age not immedia-fied by the existence of the internet, would never have come about. It certainly isn't as popular as it is just by the merits of Sapkwoski's writings, which are quite frankly fucking dismal (see the Ciri Quintet), but despite of this, the Witcher Universe is definitely more popular now than any work of fantasy has been since a Game of Thrones was announced to be adapted to the small screen.

I was listening to Malukah's rendition of Priscilla's song, said original rendition which one can stumble on when one does the Novigrad questline in the Witcher 3 when looking for Dandelion, and I was struck at the level of passion this one thing has inspired.
And indeed, the long-running 'love' storyline of Geralt and Yennefer is likely one of the most compelling things the books have offered. I remember being quite taken by it when reading the short stories.

For your pleasure; Malukah's rendition of Priscilla's Song.

Some music

Yeah, this is still incredibly good.

Live to fight again

Just keep going.

Update. And a long-ass wait ahead.

Spent my Friday evening presiding over the carcass of yet another animal being dismantled, this time a boar.

A case of being prepared, he says, a case of having the skills should they be needed.

So we hoist it up, and he demonstrates what he has learned.

It's a slow process, but at the very least, a satisfying one.

For me too, though I don't do any cutting.

I'm in a dark place still, and the company helps.

I'm still not out of it, but here at least, I thought at the time, I'm not doing any damage to myself.

This type of silence keeps me away from the dangerous kind. There's a slight bit of tequila to remove some more self-awareness and to exist more in the moment. The fire is hot, the glowing wood dazzling.

So I sit closer and let the heat wash over me.

The fire takes over, and it is beautiful.

It's definitely a special moment, but I'm aware that I'm brittle, and that soon I'll be alone.

And that's gonna get problematic.

And indeed, later on, in the dangerous quiet, the old demons come howling back.

So I go for a run, and despite a distinctly blurry left eye, an after-effect from lack of sleep and some tequila, I thought hopefully, it was a pretty good run. Not too much trouble from my right foot, where years and years ago I tore my ligaments. I can feel it, but it doesn't hurt enough to make me stop.

The blurry eye is annoying though, but I figure, a good night's sleep will fix that right up.

But, the day after, the blurriness persists and around noon I realize that my eye isn't the place where something is amiss, and that rather; something is wrong with my glasses.

The left lens, plastic 'cause glasses fall a lot you know, has slightly melted, so that there is an infinitely small whorling pattern on the outside, practically invisible if you look at it straight on. But very definitely noticeable over sustained normal use. Noticeable, and migraine-inducing.

It's bad enough, in fact, that I need a replacement.

So then, fast forward half a day and I still haven't been able to go out the front door.

Anxiety has held me close.

But somehow, somewhere after 4, I manage to extract myself from a very familiar mire of self-pity and terror, to make my way through the crowds of Hasselt centre to the store I went last time.

Huggin' and Kissin' helped. I fucking love that song.

So I did the business, but like an idiot I bought new glasses, rather than ask them to replace the lenses themselves, Mainly because it's hard to open my mouth and explain any particulars so I rather just let myself glide along on what is expected and what is easy, and partially because I figured it had been 2 years since the last change and the money would've been just about the same. I figured, wrongly, that this would also be quicker.

Yes. It obviously, in every conceivable scenario, couldn't possibly be any quicker.

 And on top of that, I got to pick an extra pair free of charge, to be converted into sunglasses, or not; my choice.

So I did. And I didn't think about that this might just add some extra time to the whole process.

And now I have to wait 2 weeks until my order is done.

I have to wait two weeks.

And my left eye is already in full-on squint mode.

The moral of this story is, if there is one;

Conquering one's own demons, even temporarily and knowing they're not gone and'll pop up in the future, doesn't mean one is instantaneously rewarded.

It's a god damn never-ending struggle to keep going forward.

Inching towards daylight, while a monster has its claws in your back and keeps dragging you back down the long dark tunnel you've been stuck in for already too long.

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Whatever, hope you have a good day.

Update the Second

Obviously, anything like normalcy has gone right out the window. If you came here for the books, you're gonna get a right rotten shower.

Although I'm almost at the point where I'm removed from the madness and self-pity enough to share stuff about books again. Because, believe you me, I do have stuff I'm interested in.

I was listening to Extreme Ways earlier, and Jesus, has this ever been so applicable?

Although, I had a feeling right now as if I was healing myself. As if there's a way past the mouth of hell and past those Extreme Ways Moby is talking about. And if you've been paying attention to what I wrote in the past, you might get exactly what he is talking about here.

To get back to the self-healing: It's not talking, it's not introspection, it's not the slow methodical reveal of self-knowledge.
Self-knowledge doesn't help, it never does, particularly if one is inclined to self-hate.

But flat-out escapism does help though.
What is escapism though?
It is the forgetting of self through the medium of not-you. Of being engrossed, being enticed, sucked in by truths and sentiments that are in no way informed by you.

Music is one of the best ways of doing it, and if you add drink to that, then oh boy, you're halfway done already.

There's nothing like giving yourself over to a mood shaped, crafted by another mind, no; to a team of minds, of minds feeling, expressing that feeling, that sentiment to you, through beat, through rhythm through beauty. But then even that word, 'beauty' falls short. Whatever you get out of this transcends nomenclature, description and labels; music shapes you, in the moment, your identity is effaced and exists only in that point in time, regardless of the darkness that has come before. Their input becomes your being. It is glory, it is magic.
Rage, sadness and self-pity become nothing, become melancholy, become love, become an endlessness of possibility.
A mind ready for rewrite. A blank page, exulting in its own absence of origins. No past, no future, no self.

There's only the rhythm and the mood. A blissful unawareness of self, this is the only thing that'll save us, that'll save me.

Nothing but potential.

Dyngus Day

It was Dyngus Day today.

For some reason, this turned me Amish.

And incidentally made me resemble Woodkid.

Though that bastard's beard is still a great deal better than mine,

 or anyone's for that matter...

Fucking genes...

... Anyway, what's Dyngus day you ask?

Dyngus day, or Smigus Dyngus day takes place on Easter Monday and its customs and traditions are apparently a teensy bit different to what we (read: mostly Ruben) do in this house: Between 8 and 12 in the morning we try to drench each other with a garden hose, buckets, glasses of water, water balloons, water guns, and so on... you get the idea. It was introduced some years back into the household through my mother, to her infinite regret, who is Polish on her parents side, and who still speaks a smattering of it besides.

Looking over the Wikipedia entry though I get the sense that someone around here severely limited the hours of mayhem (and it is mayhem) that a certain wild temperament might have made optimal use of, and certain of the activities have also been scrapped, which can only be a good thing. I mean; whipping girls with palm leaves, oh dear... and processions and recitals I can also very much do without.

Now normally, I don't get much involved in the *ahem* festivities, being a much more reserved sort. Not to mention the anxiety and the general awkwardness of my interactions with any crowd larger than 2, even if that crowd consists only of my family.

But this year, in the spirit of self-improvement, I, with the use of some helpful Vecchia Romagna, did join in. More than that though, because this year I also decided to implement some damage control and instead went out to beard the creature in its den.

It was fun, but we did apparently scared the pants off of a man and his dog.

No pictures of the battle itself, though here is one of the aftermath.

As I'm the one who's still wearing his short pants (because if you're gonna be soaked, better that it be in short pants even if the day is uncomfortable cold), this picture doesn't leave much doubt as to who the winner was on this particular Dyngus day. Yes yes, you can't really tell, but really; I won. Which is not something I thought I'd be saying this morning when at 5 past 8 I raced nervously out my front door.

Though I don't have a doubt that I'm going to be regretting having done this post by next year...

... and yes, I also realize that this constitutes somewhat of a challenge.

And that is ok.

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And as a bonus, some Woodkid.

Because something's got me in that mood again.

Some Music

This song has been stuck in my head for days now.

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I don't listen to the radio if I can help it, and I always find my music in movies or games.

This one I originally heard in the credits for Edge of Tomorrow.

Which is by the way: an incredibly bad-ass movie.

Emily Blunt is in it, and she's super-hot, and leading man Tom Cruise is actually really good in it as well.

Action, Emily Blunt, Humour, Emily Blunt doing sexy push-ups, Sci-fi, Aliens, Emily Blunt glowing like she's pregnant (which she was during the shoot), good fucking music: You could do worse with watching a movie on a Sunday evening.

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Oh, and for those of you that might need a bit of a resolution after watching Newman's Love me Again, go watch his 'Cheating' music video; it'll show you what happened to the two protagonists of this one's music video.

Bourbon and Big Black Delta

Current Mood:

Fear Agent's Out of Step by way of Big Black Delta's Huggin' and Kissin'.

That whole issue is just so damn perfect.

If you've read one, look at the other and tell me they don't invoke the same feelings.
Or just watch it anyway, it's a good song and an interesting clip.

I'm having a good time, how about you?

-----

"Life was not a valuable gift, but death was.
Life was a Fever-dream made up of joys embittered by sorrows,
pleasure poisoned by pain,
a dream that was nightmare-confusion of spasmodic and fleeting delights,
ecstasies, exultations, happinesses, interspersed with long-drawn miseries,
griefs, perils, horrors, disappointments, defeats, humiliations, and despairs,
the heaviest curse devisable by divine ingenuity.

But death was sweet.

 Death was gentle.

Death was kind.

Death healed the bruised spirit and the broken heart,
and gave them rest and forgetfulness.

Death was man's best friend.

When man could endure life no longer,
death came and set him free."

Samuel Clemens,
aka
 Mark Twain

Woodkid Live

I'm not one for going out and going to any kind of social gathering (Cue Shaun of the Dead joke) but it seems rather awesome to witness this stuff live.

From hereon out: Earphones advised.

One from Paris, instrumentals only.

Also, if you suffer from epilepsy, do not bloody watch this one.

And the other three, at Montreux, of a very much softer bend; Yoann's (Woodkid) warm deep voice mixed with some beautiful guest vocals.

Not sure which one's my favourite but the one with Elle Fanning sure seems stuck in my head right now.

And then this one, which is on a whole 'nother level of entertaining.

What a crowd :)

Another music post

Aaaaawww yeah...

Some Music

Enjoy.

If you can't understand it. Don't worry, me neither and he's actually speaking my language.