Friday, 26 November 2010
Readers who have piercings on their brows or tongue should just replace the word _piercing for _baseballcap or _mickey_mouse_ears [lady gaga] – the onus here is to place in the hipsters’ ass (+ everything else that still fits). Just for the record, I dig piercings in girls, and muscles in guys.
The movie begins within an hipstereal atmosphere, of great indie inter-pride and lip scars signaling fresh progress to post-piercism, fashion ramification rooted on the alternativism 3.0 movement (suitably baptized bionerd hipster), launched in 2009. The puritans of this new 3.0 release will argue that the scars, because they imply the previous presence of a piercing, do not guarantee you authenticity status within the new movement, since they suggest drifting from the 2.0 tide, or even worst, the alpha ’91 tide. It is, in all honesty, an unfair appreciation, particularly taking into consideration that, ultimately, not every freak can be born after 1993. Chicks from the early and mid 80s have consumed various generations of marginal substances through virtually every hole in their body and you simply cannot demand that someone that was a teen in the midst of the existential chaos that dictated the 00s would maintain themselves aesthetically neutral. Important to plant a metalic mark for social/intimate display in your flesh, in essence any kind of accessory that outlines the significance of your individual experience or personal brand.
I use, paradoxically, the opposite, - to transmit security in relation to my natural state of anonimity and normality, i have kept a virgin skin – and because of that i trully believe i am vastly superior to others. Ironically, if I am conceded the status of irrelevant in a given context, I suffer ADD impulses and crash socially, falling in all kinds of trademark mistakes to gain immediate attention, this blog being one of the main products of this process. Looking back, a piercing could have saved myself a considerable effort in being accepted as an integrating member of the behavioral frontline within my age strata. Maybe should have made a piercing on my armpit when I was 18, to highlight my teen to adult metamorphosis. I would then be able to arrive to Madeira every summer/easter/carnival/xmas not only speaking with a Lisbon accent but also ostentatiously carrying a physical symbol of my accomplished integration on a progressive urban agglomerate of the 21st century.
Anyhow, going back to the movie, in the beginning of the 00s, as I have mentioned, people would unfortunately present themselves to the world without conveying any solid message, basically without any flair. The idea of encrusting bits of metal in cartilaginous extremities came to revolutionize the pale cult of normal and finally enabled the liberation of numerous living being from the individual and artistic oppression to which they were chained. More importantly, a never-before-seen new global conscience emerged from the casual social darkness which launched various individuals to the nirvana of authenticity as creators and critics of the arts, the ultimate frontier of universal proficiency and understanding for any atomic formation supported in hydrocarbon – to be updated in the future to other binary compositions that are proven to embark life.
10 years passed, people are now born with piercing via genetic influence. Or, for some lucky parents, because it got stuck to the newly born’s head/ear/nose – one of the examples on how a simple clitoris can have a remarkable direct biological influence on a 9 month old body.
It makes thus sense, considering the current vulgarity of the accessory, that the althreenative movement tries to revert to the point of originality, which dynamically moved on to the paradigm of not having a piercing. You must therefore nowadays recycle metal for air, conserving your symbiotic relation with fashion. The scar subsists and can be seen as a ancestral trophy in the medium, even though there is still clear preference for the young ones that have their skin genuinely intact, free of past fashions.
Despite all this suggestive environment there were still people who bought popcorn, oblivious of the mainstream connotations of such action. I avoided it because I wanted to cultivate the impression that I, even if not aesthetically significant, knew what I was doing there. Some kind of sub intellectual, a vulture of the movement, always present, never agreeable and sufficiently proactive. In sum presenting myself to indie cinema at the same level as bono does to the world elites.
Regardless of that, and placing my perspective on a purely academical level, i question myself about why would it be that, in kino movimiento, the oldest and most original cinema in the solar system, they would sell lamestream popcorn – only to abandon this thought, my line of thought obfuscated by the stochastic sonority of the corn trituration. By further consequence of my prolonged exposition to this sound, i saw myself on another plane: instead of conserving my rationality, my mind was hijacked by random questions, like a madeiran fir freely releasing cones with the ultra atlantic wind:
Is there a psychological pattern that defines people who are eating popcorn in this theater in particular?
Is life logical without a pattern?
Will I lack paternal ability when I have kids, in 2034?
How many times will Benfica have won the Champions League by that time?
Is football relevant to my human condition?
In the middle of all these inequations it became to me apparent that a multitude of foreign teens were rejoicing in the teather. Maybe it is explainable: They are in Berlin, exclusively more adequate city to practice a truly significant life, much freer and random than the ones they could carry in their home planets. In young adult’s lingo, living in Berlin is a post-college-pre-adulthood extension of Erasmus, the birth incentive educational program supported by the European commissariat.
The factual, undeniable and irreducible proof of that is that, statistically, the average ideal foreign berlin habitant’s path can be described by the Erasmus canon and deducted with the mere application of two temporal transformations, perhaps inspired by the mathematical fugues of bach, the Prussian god of wine: the x6 distension and the +6 translation. The ideal foreign berlin resident arrives here at 27 but more importantly to everyone, leaves at 32, typically after a personally significant 3 year relationship with another ideal foreigner. He/she leaves because of a trauma: the failure that consists in blowing their last chance to glue themselves to another spirit with the same ecosustainable view of the world and culture. This is normally fatal for proto-human that nurture ad eternum the stretched projection of their juvenile lifestyle. It is then only natural that a couple of intimate questions are raised on these axial moments of failure regarding their world view: What will I do about my life? Why is the world so robotic/inauthentic/cold? What would prevent my iphone/ipod/imac of having been idealized and manufactured if all us 7 billion would be 24h in contact with our inner being through arts? Why is it that instead of MacDonald’s and fast food don’t we have fast art for us to consume? Am I truly unique and authentic if I don’t like animal collective or wavves? Would it be too much to ask if we forgot all about fossil fuels for a moment while I go home in a bike for thanksgiving across the atlantic?
Not sure if I was clear on the characterization of my screening colleagues.
Fortunately, all these sullen questions are dissipated within the first 3 minutes of film, which is exactly what we all came looking for: answers for an existence aligned with our personal brand. Curious that maybe because of this this is a movie that requires preparation. Not emotional of intellectual preparation but preparation under the form of a failed life devoid of meaning via the accidental preparation of an existentially accidental life.
It is analogous to what is needed so that the sublimation of oneself through the spiritual path of drugs doesn’t come as a goal, nor as reason, nor an escape from the mundane life, but as a smooth slip into the experimental and unknown.
The individual appreciation of Ethereal void is then basically a frank measure over the restlessness with which you interpret your condition.
The movie in objective sentences separated by comas:
Boring introduction, with a downtempoed rhythm, monochromatic visuals, seasoned by classical music throughout the opening credits - which unfolds across the screen in a single clean and formal true type font (maybe arial). Introduction to a cinematographic planed centered on the third person of the plural. Banal exploration of a sacramental love relationship. Portrait, on a narrative level, of the abusive way in which the lead character’s best friend manages his tobacco addiction. Screenplay centered on everyday life in Helsinki. More monochromatic prowess. Group of friend play xbox in a mansion, with girls in bikini outside by the pool. Underwater footage of the Baltic sea. Arab billionaire arrives in a diamond coated Ferrari. Lead actress is beheaded by a helicopter while filming apocalypse then. An orange juice with a mysterious substance reaps a young slovak’s life in a south American village. Celebrity notabilized in other dominions makes cameo appearance.
verdict: not recommended, a vulgar film that will contribute few or nothing to the personal development of one as carrier of a personal identification card.
Sunday, 14 November 2010
Article written by Unknown
"HOLY SHIT!" is all i have been thinking for the past week. I finally made my 2.25 grams of crystalline Dimethyl Tryptamine from 2 pounds of Mimosa Hostilis rootbark. Ive already tried DMT recently a few times with exceptional experiences but nothing can ever sum up to what happened this past weekend.
Ive been an avid skydiver out of my freind's own private high-altitude propellor plane for some time now. About a year and a half. Ive constantly been searching for the "truth about everything" with the use of LSD, Shrooms, and Ecstacy for the past year. I felt it was about time i made a humongous leap forward into my discoveries. I made the decision to attempt the world's first act of tripping DMT while in a high-altitude freefall, at least that i know of.
The qualifications for this type of an experiment has to be exceptional safety and perfect timing. Prior to jumping, with complete gear on (including parachute and reserve), i planned to inhale one complete rip from my dmt pipe aboard the plane and then immediately proceed out into the abyss of the sky where i will exhale hopefuly after i pull the line. Nothing in this world, however, could prepare me for what would really happen.
Jumping out of an airplane at 35,000 feet while holding your breath is already difficult enough. But to do it while the world's most potent psychoactive begins to flourishly react with my consciousness is a completely different story. My freind, well call him FRIEND, is the only other person that knows this experiment will take place.
Goals of this experiment are:
1) NO DYING
2) PULL CORD BEFORE EXHALING DMT
3) The most ultimate and godlike experience anyone on this planet could ever experience while faced with complete danger to succeed into the next level of ultimate enlightenment.
You think im crazy? Well, yeah, this is proof. lol.
This past saturday, after a two-day fast, at 10 o'clock in the morning i wake up with the necessary mindset to accomplish a remarkable feat. Speaking with others was off limits, only complete focus on the objective. Noon and im at the dusted airstrip taking off with FREIND. We take one trial run where i take a hit of weed from a pipe, jump off the plane, pull the shoot, and exhale. I immediately became worried when flight was acheived without being able to hold my breath easily. I knew it would be harder with plastic-tasting DMT. I decided another trial was in order. Once down, i grab another parachute and head back to the airstrip where FREIND is refueling. Oddly enough, the second trial commenced at 4:20 pm and the jump went smoothly. Slightly stoned and floating down to the ground, a smile couldnt help but overtake my face as i realized the next time is THE time.
7:00 pm and the sun is getting close to the horizon. A few minutes are left until 35,000 feet is obtained and then only half an hour max before its too dark. This was crunch time, and i knew it. I could hardly bare the anticipation. My hands shook incredibly fast and my heartbeat was skyrocketing. I began to have second thoughts and if this didnt work, i could kill myself. I quickly realized that all of the intellect and wisdom obtained from my previous psychedelic experiences were shouting out at me that anything is possible if i just believe. I began to meditate in the plane in a state that almost seemed to be an lsd flashback. I knew my body was pumping fear but my brain was combatting it with faith. I knew this would be the defining point of my pre-adulthood if i succeed and i knew that i could survive. Thinking of conquering this unworldly feat began to enstill a sympathy in myself towards myself. I felt as though i didnt need to do this to define my life, but at the same time i knew i needed to in order to advance in my stages of enlightenment. All of a sudden once everything seemed to be good to go, and ready to fly, the cockpit hatch opened up and FREIND yelled out to me, "You ready to fuckin FLY?!?" I responded only with a smile and began to place the pipe to my mouth as my hand holding the lighter trembled.
This time, my bowl was filled with DMT. I cornered myself away from the wind, slowed down my breathing, lit the lighter, placed it to the bowl and began to inhale. Immediately i was astonished by how i could stand the taste this time. Almost as if the DMT was rooting for me as well. After a deep, deep rip, i shut my eyes, focused on the mission, placed my goggles over my eyes, and darted out the door.
The immediate weightlessness was startling for some reason this time. Within seconds of shooting out the plane, all hell broke loose. The trip began. Scared and in a state of paralysis, i exhaled the smoke and witnessed my life beginning to flash before my eyes in a kaleidoscope of remembered events ordered in a way that seemed incredibly perfect. All i could think about was my friends, family, and my personal journey through life. My eyes were shut and the roar of the wind was instantaneously replaced by a shearing high pitched crackle. I knew i was falling, i knew i was going to die, i knew i'd miss my life but i did not feel as though i had failed. I suddenly realised that the life that just flashed before my eyes was a good one and began to accept that this is the perfect way to die, in harmony with my own mind. All of the hectic closed-eye-visulatisations of memories and swirling patterns made me feel as though dying was merely the next step in enlightenment which after all, was the inevitable goal of my experiment. Feeling at ease with the thought of death, i felt myself relaxing into the flight and let gravity take over. No longer was i in form and now i was just tumbling through the sky.
Visions from my most recent acid trip began to play before my eyes as i fell further through the sky with my eyes still closed. The message i took back from that trip was a subjective reality, that which is produced personally at all times, began to flourish about in my hectic thoughts. I opened my eyes because something compelled me to. I was in the clouds. I readjusted into proper skydiving technique. All i could see was the faint light of the sun glowing my surroundings and i began to wonder if i was in heaven. I wondered if this was the product of my mind producing a subjective reality while in a DMT trip or if i was really dead. Emotions at this stage in time seemed incredibly intense.
The clouds parted and gave way to the view of the massive earth quickly accelerating towards me. Suddenly no longer was this a mission to enlighten myself, it was back to staying alive. My guess is the brief DMT trip had began to die down and gave me a chance to save myself so i could take back my story to the rest of the world. Subjective reality philosophy is very interesting to me. In this case, i began to feel as though i had created the earth that was rushing towards me and i had also created the parachute on my back. I could either discover the purpose of the hard, brown land or i could discover the purpose of my parachute. Immediately, all energy that could possibly be imagined was summoned. I felt as though i was gaining power and spirits were helping me. There were beings on the ground tossing light at me. My only response to this vivid hallucination was to embody it and use the energy to my advantage. As i caught the light, my energy seemed to revive and my arms went out to the side as they began to glow a brilliant white. I felt as though i was god, or a god, or at least an angel of some sort and that all of me was glowing white. I felt that if i hit the ground while possessing this much energy, it would be a complete waste and i would let all of the spirits of the world down and the world would gradually die away. I suddenly felt as though pulling that cord was the only thing that mattered in the world at the time. I visualized the president in his office dealing with Iraq difficulties, i visulaized a mother giving birth to a baby i even thought of what id perhaps be doing if this had never occurred. None of it mattered any more.
I had to pull that cord. With an amazing feeling of lightlessness, i shut my eyes once more and forced my arms up to the cord and released all of my energy. Instantaneously, the weightlessness was replaced with ultimate heaviness and an incredible pain in my torso. Once the chute was deployed, a sigh of relief and a release of endless amounts of tension took place. I survived. I accomplished. I defeated. I conquered. I fuckin did it!
I survived the ultimate test of concsiousness and obtained the ultimate level of enlightenment. No more living life half-heartedly. No more arguments. No more anger. No more stress. Life from then on is to be happy, spiritual and amazing. From then on, i use my new godlike perspective to help me live through life as though i had created it all. This viewpoint will allow me to connect with anything or anyone i wish and will allow me to teach others of these ways.
Hovering a thousand feet over the land, i realized how close a call this was and let out a scream of joy that seemed to echo around for miles and minutes. I must have still been feeling the residual effects. As i landed back on the ground, i bent over while beginning to cry and kissed the sandy ground. If i truly am to believe that i created all, than i am to believe that the dirt sticking around my lips at this moment is something i created. I licked my lips and smiled as though i had just finished a meal i prepared for myself.
Overall, this experience was IMMENSELY enlightening and also probably one of the most idiotic things a person could do. BUT, i survived and for the better. Dont try this without either talking to me, feeling as though your life is worth the risk, or if you have experience. I instead suggest that each of you find your own crazy idea for a trip, fulfill it, and realize the best way you can live your life once you complete it. Just dont do anything so dumb as to kill yourselves because as i discovered, life can be a beautiful thing and id hate for you to fail at trying to realize this.