Having begun this less-faux blog, I shan't refrain from utilising it the way blogs were meant to: to voice a heartfelt opinion entirely uncalled for and heard by hardly anyone.
Has anyone picked up on the eerie silence coming from Rafah? Reportedly 21.000 children are missing there. For decades on end in the Levant, history has been rhyming as it does, and it came to a macabre halt. Pure evil, brutal madness; grim relentless eradication of life, of thousands upon thousands of lives in one fell swoop. Another holocaust, what else to call this unholy vengeance?
Perpetrated by 🇮🇱 Jews no less, can't make this sh*t up — and the whole world looking the other way. Well done, Bibi and Gallant. If only there were time for The Hague.. Hitch a ride with Putin. For shame.
No words, so utterly TBC.
11/5/25 update: And how utterly continued it was.. Such cruelty and contempt, so savagely soiling our history. 😔 One upping Nazi Germany in ruthlessness – not even a century has passed, for Christ's sake, shalom chaverim.
Sometimes – that is, on too regular a basis – I buy a book on an impulse, eager to read it right away, and genuinely convinced that, merely by purchasing it, that's what will happen when my future self receives it or picks it up. Be reading it right away, as soon as I have it!
Which happens, but especially in recent years more often than not does not, so many a book in yonder shelf ended up there remaining entirely unread. :l Several of them presumably forever. :( I can't be alone in this behaviour..
At least recently, thanks to the help of more energetically inclined loved ones and relatives, I devised a shelf system promoti.. ehh, no matter – one such book that crosses my mind more often than others lately — leaving this tiny trace of guilt, an echoed whisper of “damn yes, with that one I really ought to have gotten started a miserable decent while ago” — is The Wizard and the Prophet by Charles C. Mann.
The book's about pushing earth's limits, or abiding by them, is the gist I took away from cover and reviews - in anticipation of reading. In which case I think time proved the prophet right, and the road to hell was paved, in part, with good intentions. Is there any precedent of revoking Nobel Prizes? :l In a most honourable manner, to be sure. Just, like, reassess the candidates with 20/20 hindsight.
Why yet another blogpost utterly TBC, it appears to become a habit. No regrets! :|
Of all the things I shall have read,
At the Mountains of Madness
matters much. On further reflection, I suppose I haven't read any
H.P. Lovecraft at all,
even though it would appear to be Reading 101. An awkward gap in my cultural
constitution, then, much like
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
ffs :/ and so many, so much more, but let's not digress.
For lately I often find myself truly climbing mountains of madness — to then tumble down from, tearing open some more awkward gaps, this time 'round in my weary, forworn memory, and tangibly manifested in batter and bruise. :l
Such breathaking epiodes surely in no small measure must be brought about by the chemicals, but that may not be the entire story. They are, in earnest, no laughing matter, and I tend to laugh at matters by default. Sadly, inadequate lofty words like “transcendent”, “metaphysical”, “spiritual” maybe, and suchlike, make up the word cloud to choose from. The experiences leave me feeling like a bland, male, latter-day decoction of Hadewych, say, or Hildegard von Bingen.
Ehh, yet another blog post quite TBC. 🫥
..because hardly anyone knows these things happen to me. Who would believe stories of spontaneously combusting bushes? And to the one person who does know of them, let's call them G., I haven't even begun to try to convey their nature.
..because I can't make sense of them myself. The mind already fails to recall them properly, never mind find the words, falling ever shorter. Hindsight ain't no 20/20 when psychotic, and that word instantly robs the experiences from their possible weight, importance, meaning, or relevance to anyone but myself. It ultimately all resides between the ears, is the only shabby thing one can be entirely sure of.
So I'll be joking about The Simulation, and enquiring about higher planes of existence, incapable of making any sense of it at all. 😔