Massimiliano Peretti.. Amigdalae
http://jourstranquilles.canalblog.com/archives/2007/03/24/in
dex.html
http://cogimage.dsi.cnrs.fr/documents/AMIGDALAEdoc.pdf
http://cogimage.dsi.cnrs.fr/seminaires/resume_amygdalae_2005
.htm
http://www.sentieriselvaggi.it/articolo.asp?idarticolo=8867&
amp;idsezione=134&idramo1=134
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H.P. Lovecraft
http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/lovecraf.htm
I'm fascinated by the passions that create art.
"Masturbating With A Teacup"
Mushroom Dreams From Years Ago
There is a desert, spanning over the ages, endless and consuming it condemns all feet that step upon it.
i focus, bringing each grain of sand into clear view, scanning each and every morsel until life makes sense again.
The desert is swallowed and changes before my naked feet and staring eyes. transformed into a dingy cabin, rust creaking each nut and bolt, and age clinging to every board of rotting wood. i can smell the death in this place, and it has scented i.
There is in this place, once i step over the threshold, my feet dirty and burning from the sand, a man. he sits in a corner, his skin pale and washed with filth. A lightbulb swings back and forth, yellowed with age and as dirty as he. the creaking of the bulb and the little string hanging from it create a rhythm that he rocks back and forth to. He is whispering something, so i draw closer, ignoring the scent of unwashed skin and dingy hair.
"masturbating with a teacup"
Over and over and over again. i think i will go mad, watching this, hearing this, until he looks up, never breaking his rhythm and sound. the words bleed from the ceiling of this horrible little room. they drip onto the floor and i realise at that moment that i have blood in droplets on my skin and i am horrified. he whispers it over and over again, until my dream eyes close and i am in my desert of burning sand, feet screaming with the wind whistling through the dunes, bringing my heart to ache back to my present reality.
The Things That Make Her Scream
Etched and arched, svelte and sublime. All things made as the paradox to end all conceptions and perceptions of our walking and thinking life. Broken child, shattered doll, arrow through the head, time to walk. Conceived miseries make her weep red, down between her legs unto the cracked concrete below. Told lies to make the world spin round, and calls herself god in the middle of the night when there is none to hear and comment on the shadow that descends over her head in the midnight of our twilight repercussions. She is beautiful. Head bowed to meet fate, wings descent into the torrent of human emotion. Dress shattered upon arrival.. Naked, womb broken, dead, dying. Her apartment is in a wreck, her life is dripping down the walls to meet the blood she has shed for our humanity in the midst of her dilusion. Curls brush her shoulders and she turns, seeking the man that whispers in her head after those midnight cocktails..
[But there is none alive to see the ruin of her face.]
Drowned and dreaming, sunk and screaming. They are screaming for her from above, and jeering from below. "Oh wretched souls, where dost thou wander?" She screams, and there is no one to provide her solace, none to see to it that she find surcease. It runs upward. to line the ceiling with her mass defection. Blood runs up and she smiles. It begins to make sense again. She closes her legs, shutting off the flow that makes the clocks turn. She tilts back her head, changing the rhythm of all that makes us move, breathe, live. She spreads her wings and becomes god again, god in all, god of all. She turns around and her nakedness shines in the moonlit room, her bare feet smears the blood across the wood and she laughs.
[The windows break]
Every single sigh she makes.. The infinite flow and change of these things we have laid out for her to Juxtapose. My sins, your sins, her eternal flaw. With love she pushes them over, with amusement she mounts them to fuck away the passion. With cynicism she turns to find herself the devil. Knife in hand, blood over her skin.
[Reality descends upon dilusion.]
She stands in a room with store-bought wings, dripping her life's blood onto the floor from between her legs. Spread around her like so much confetti are the bodies of child rapists.
And she is god in us all again.
I'd like new minds to bend, new thoughts to pick...
I want friends with perspectives they can defend, thoughts they can convey coherently..
I'm edgy about meeting in person, but if i like you alot ....
I may just give you a shot.
The Iron Horse
Geoff Smith- Fifteen Wild Decembers
Royksopp
On! Air! Library!
Enigma
Enya
Sigur Ros
Icon Of Coil
Apoptygma Berzerk
Bruderschaft
Ugur Isilak
Azam Ali
Ozcan Deniz
Grendel
Cansu Koc
Feindflug
Radiohead
Marilyn Manson
Franz Ferdinand
Oasis
Tool
A Perfect Circle
Nine Inch Nails
Type O Negative
Candiria- Process Of Self Development- Work In Progress
Rammestien
Unheilig
Diary Of Dreams
Velvet Acid Christ
Combichrist
Danzig
Coal Chamber
Deftones
Rotersand
And One
Wumpscut
..
The Piano Teacher
Shutter
Dawn Of The Dead
Day Of The Dead
Land Of The Dead
Evil Dead
Evil Dead II
Evil Dead III
Grave Of The Fireflies
The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street
Audition
Infernal Affairs (Whole Series)
G.T.O.
Dead Alive (Braindead)
Redneck Zombies
Manhattan Baby
House By The Cemetery
Haunting On Hill House
Rose Red
Necronomicon
Maximum Overdrive
Riding The Bullet
Carrie
Children Of The Corn
Christine
Needful Things
The Haunted Forest
The Deaths Of Ian Stone
Ed Gein- The Butcher Of Plainfield
Species ( Series)
Crash
Three Extremes ( All Three)
Nightmare on Elm St (Series)
Friday the 13th (Series)
999-9999(Thai)
And God Created Woman (french)
Redeu-Ai ( Korean)
Pet Cemetery
e.t.c...
Aqua Teen Hunger Force
Robot Chicken
Moral Orel
Sealab 2021
The Brak Show
The Venture Brothers
Frank Herbert:
Dune
Children Of Dune
Dune Messiah
God Emperor Of Dune
Stephen King:
Nightmares and Dreamscapes
The Dark Tower Series
Tale of a 56 Buick
The Tommyknockers
Dreamcatcher
Amy Tan:
1000 Secret Senses
The Kitchen God's Wife
The Joy Luck Club
Clive Barker:
In The Flesh
Galilee
Coldheart Canyon
Tom Wolfe
Bonfire Of The Vanities
Anne Rice:
Merrick
Interview With A Vampire
Lestat
Queen Of The Damned
Lasher
Blood And Gold
Vittorio the Vampire
The Mayfair Witches
Patrick Suskind:
Perfume
Leo Tolstoy:
Anna Karenena
Emily Bronte:
Bleak House
Charlotte Bronte:
Jane Eyre
R. L. Stine:
[ Everything ]
Michael Crichton:
State Of Fear
[ History Of Hell- Author Unknown ]
Henry Miller:
Tropic Of Capricorn
Tropic Of Cancer
Sexus
Nexus
Plexus
Anaiis Nin:
[ First Diary ]
Diary Of Anne Frank
Lolita
Ivan Goncharov:
Oblomov
"Even if war were declared, and it were my lot to go, I would grab the bayonet and plunge it, plunge it up to the hilt. And if rape were the order of the day then rape i would, and with a vengeance. At this very moment, in the quiet dawn of a new day, was not the earth giddy with crime and distress? Had one single element of man's nature been altered, vitally, findamentally altered, by the incessant march of history? By what he calls the better part of his nature, man has been betrayed, that is all. At the extreme limits of his spiritual being man finds himself naked as a savage. When he finds God, as it were, he has been picked clean; he is a skeleton. One must burrow into life again in order to put on flesh; the soul thirsts. On whatever crumb my eye fastens, i will pounce and devour. If to live is the paramount thing, then i will live, even if i must become a cannibal. Heretofore i have been trying to preserve the few peices of meat that hid my bones. I am done with that. I have reached the limits of endurance. My back is to the wall; i can retreat no further. As far as history goes i am dead. If there is something beyond i shall have to bounce back. I have found God, but he is insufficient. I am only spritually dead. Physically i am alive. Morally, i am free. The world which i have departed is a menagerie. The dawn is breaking on a new world, a jungle world in which the lean spirits roam with sharp claws. If i am a hyena i am a lean and hungry one: i go forth to fatten myself."
--Henry Miller