I have an obsession with the Manic Street Preachers “Holy Bible” album that borders on the unhealthy. Now, I listen to a lot of music of all types, and there’s actually quite a lot of pop music I like, especially from the 80’s (and Jesse McCartney’s new album is quite mad fab). I could easily listen to Irene Cara’s “What a Feeling” or maybe Katrina & the Waves “Walking on Sunshine” 40 times in a row, and maybe that would cheer me up. But still, I feel like “The Holy Bible” conquers all. There is no hope in the grooves of the compact disc: The music creates a sticky web of despair, that is impossible to escape. It is like a Siren’s call one can’t escape from, and it perfectly sums up the horror and pointlessness of the human condition. They even used a sample of Ballard’s voice saying “I wanted to rub the human face in it’s own vomit, and force it to look in the mirror”. “The Holy Bible” is that mirror. It weaves such a powerful spell of nihilism, like nothing I’ve ever encountered before, that everything seems pointless.
You get involved in something with good intentions and eventually come to realize it wasn’t quite what you expected. That there were unconsciously agreed-upon standards that you just can’t possibly live up to. That you fight for respect so hard but end up looking like a fool. I've strived for the sun but crashed bloodily against a sky of my own limitations. I’m prepared to say that as a magician I’m a failure and I don't know what I was thinking when I took it up in the first place. I simply cannot see things from your people’s viewpoints, try as hard as I might. I would like to believe that everyone you meet has something to offer to you, but I do not find this to be true. I’ve seen teenagers stomping on fuzzy caterpillars for no apparent reason: We’re wired to cause suffering. A small nihilistic part of me can associate with such thinking, I’m sad to say. A part of me wants to see other people suffer, wants everyone to be a miserable as I am. Happy people annoy me. People who appear to have their lives in order annoy me. I want to see Zen masters lose all confidence. And Yoga practioneers. And so on and so on. Drag them down screaming to my level. Because as long as I know someone out there is having fun, enjoying life, it’s a mockery to me, as bad as that mysterious laughter the narrator is mocked by in “The Fall”. This is childish thinking, but I don’t care anymore. I’m sick of jockeying for respect from people who loathe me, who I don’t even know in real life. I’m sorry, you were wrong about me, I can’t live up to your lofty standards, most of which seem to involve having sex and friends (well, I have some of the latter, but not much). “This rough magic I here abjure”. I’ve been catholic, atheist, a chaos magician, a gnostic, everything, and still, have found no answer to satisfy me. I don’t really think there is an answer. You know, I wanted magic to be a big glamorous thing but it seems that people on here who view it that way get mocked by the elite.
A long, long time ago I did a thread in the Temple about how I was thinking of joining a local charter of the O.T.O that was forming in my area. I had been in correspondence with the leading members of it for awhile and they took an interest in me, in fact of all the potential candidates they were especially keen to meet me, based on our conversations and certain viewpoints I had expressed. I’ll admit it: I cracked. I really wanted to earn their respect, to be seen as a good magician for once, but eventually I realized I could never live up to the hype, that once they’d meet me they’d see that I was nothing more then a walking bundle of clichés and neurosis with a borderline personality. Besides, I couldn’t figure out how to drive to the meetings and even the bus schedule proved too complex to figure out. That’s all old shit. It was months ago. Since then there’s been many meetings, many gatherings, but I’ve been to none of them: It’s moved on without me (I still keep in contact with the members online though, but I think they joke about me at their meetings… or maybe I’m just being paranoid).
Fuck it. I should be happy. Have a new computer after years of using a beat-up old one. I’m respected at my place of employment, have a loving family, am saving up for a new apartment, yet still, there is no happiness, no contentment. There is a perpetual dark cloud hanging over me I will never shake. My health worsens: I’m convinced I have a fatal illness (granted, I’ve thought this for years now, but I’m bound to be right sooner or later). There’s no point, no escape, everything is falling apart. Every breath is pain, just getting through the day has become an almost unbearable exercise. I’m in too much pain to write: I’ll never be published, never be recognized, never brighten the world with art. I’m the punch line of the universe’s existential joke: For years I’m teased with artistic ability and it was all for nothing. My magical pursuits were lunacy, a waste of time. I will never find the holy grail I seek. The future is empty and hopeless, and I have no idea where my life is going. It’s all a waste.
How transparent this must all seem to you. A pathetic cry for help, straining to receive the attention and respect of people who don’t give a toss about me anyway. And it’s not even good writing here, just tired hackneyed trite rubbish. And you’ve heard all this shit before anyway. Yeah yeah, I’m a broken record. Some of you backstabbed me, and that’s totally uncool. So yeah, I’ll be your figure of mockery one last time, Barbelith’s last stupid existential idealist. Xyu, Firewave, whatever, you can take the crown now, you’re almost my mini-me as it is (just you’re slightly older then I am, so maybe I’m your mini-me. This is a train of thought I don’t want to pursue). Ciao. Don’t respond to this, you’ll just be feeding into my pathetic little cries for attention I try to get via extreme, inappropriate behaviour such as this thread which I know will embarrass me later but I don’t care fuck it. What’s the point of anything? |
