Sunday, February 3, 2013

Rotting Earth

I have been considering finding new territory to tread, and I have found it in Rotting Earth.

DD will be a place where I will continue to post my more personal thoughts, but Rotting Earth is specifically geared towards the kind of sick degenerate filth I adore so very much. Death, disease, destruction, and decline. Basically anything I am researching that I find relevant to the human condition in some way I will post over there so the more interesting stuff can have a home, while my occasional rants and diatribes can still have somewhere to go also.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013


I find misanthropy to be an interesting topic, and it is one I spend a bit of time thinking about.

Being a misanthrope myself, I have often tried to identify from where those feelings sprung up. As a child, I was about as optimistic and naively friendly as they come. Bullying, I'm sure, played no small part in my elected loneliness today.

But there is more too it. I learned to be alone. I grew up spending an enormous amount of time by myself, entertaining myself. Having a very small number of friends all throughout my life, and no siblings until I was too old too appreciate them, I spent the majority of my time in my own head.

I really learned to enjoy my own company.

There is a feeling of liberation that comes along with the realization that you don't really need other people. Frankly, I'm sick of discussing my personal issues here; for anyone reading, I just want this blog to be entertaining. I will probably just shut the whole thing down and start anew once I figure out what it is I want to talk about. I am more or less using this as a personal space to toss things against the wall right now. But without dwelling too much on the topic, once I started to get out my emotional slump, people began to lose their meaning again for me.

I guess people are, for me, what Christianity is for other folks. When I am happy and healthy I don't give a damn about them. When I am vulnerable, I tend to seek out their company. It's actually a personal flaw that I am none too pleased about, to be honest; at my best, people are almost completely useless to me, and it is nice to have that independence from them, to be able to revel in my own privacy. But I am a human, and I will probably always seek out the company of other humans.

I like women best of course, mainly my wife, and partially because the sex is so damn good. I like raising my daughter. I have a couple of friends I like to waste time with.

Everyone else, and this is quite a predictable statement if you know me at all, can shove it and go fuck themselves. I put up with them, a lot of them aren't half bad, but I'm pretty comfortable without a mess of them around bothering me constantly; and some of them do bother me quite a lot.

Friday, January 25, 2013

Feeling the Darkness

If I were to explain to someone what draws me to "dark things", if someone were to ask my why I have a red card from the Church of Satan and why I'm fascinated with the occult, horror stories, and other macabre topics, my answer would be very simple.

I have only thought of this answer in terms of Satanism, since that has been a driving force in my life for some time. Lately I have been studying Satanism more and really diving into what attracted me to the Church of Satan in the first place. It would go something like this.

To me, Satanism is not just a simple excuse to embrace dark things, or to be obsessed with anything "evil", taking on some inverted characteristic of Christianity as a propulsion method towards a sinister lifestyle. Satanism is dualistic in nature; there is both light and darkness inherent in nature, and there is no real reason to show favoritism toward one or the other.

In the day, I don't walk around with a brooding, sinister face. I take my daughter to the park. I enjoy walks in the sun. I grab an ice cream. At night, I embrace the silence and the eery desolation of the highway while thundering orchestra booms through my radio. I turn off all the lights and indulge my carnal self.

Growing up in a forest town, where the winters were dark and cold, and spending time in the primordial forests alone, often scared, but always curious, I was drawn to the occult out of boredom, and there was a strong connection made between that and my younger nature walks. This was the closest feeling I have ever had to experiencing "dark forces" of nature, and it is one I greatly miss. I can ressurect it even in this big city where I live by surrounding myself with things that bring back nostalgic memories of it, or simply by sitting outside at night and watching the cold wind blow through the tall, waving pines. This is an experience many would associate with being "creepy" or "eery", but for a kid who grew up around Ouija boards and in haunted houses, it's just a good old fashioned memory.

Satanism is unique in this experience. Unlike more "extreme" devil worship or other cults centered squarely around all things miserable and foreboding, Satanism recognizes the power of this duality. There is good and evil everywhere, if you believe in such things; whether the lights are on or off doesn't alter its existence. For the unmoral, for the carnal, "good" is what we like, and it can be found just about anywhere.

"Bad" is what we don't like, and it is avoided at all costs; for some of us, there just happens to be a lot more of it walking around in the daytime, usually pushing strollers full of whining brats or stumbling drunk to an after party or a football game.

I'll take the darkness any day. At least it is usually nice and quiet.

Leg Show is No More

Something very important to me died a lonely, silent death in the month of December.

The fetish magazine Leg Show, featuring well legged gals in nylons and heels, foot fetish and domination articles, and pin ups from the past is no more.

It's a real shame. It's like meeting your idol and finding out he has terminal cancer; I only ever got to purchase one issue of the magazine off the newstands. It was a match made in heaven, and now its gone.

There are luckily many other ways to acquire old issues, but they will never be produced again, seemingly. The death of print is on the horizon, I suppose. Too bad!

Thursday, January 24, 2013

You Ain't Know Shit

It is starting to bother me how anyone can adopt a philosophy at face value; after reading one manual on "how you should live your life", they adopt all the principles within and immediately subscribe to the idea, as if they can't wait to get their filthy hands all over it and soil anything worthwhile it ever might have had to offer them.

I am just as guilty as this. My search for an identity lead me to some of the right and most of the wrong places. I was way too concerned with discovering my "self" than actually being an individual who was worth a shit.

More than anything, atheists piss me off. Their smug conviction which is usually the result of absorbing a Dawkins rant or two is becoming too much to cope with. I'd rather get punched in the face than have another verbal sparring match with one of these dopes. Frankly, the second someone tells me they are an atheist, and goes on to repeat the tired diatribe about how a God couldn't possibly exist, I can't help looking at them as anything else but mundane, trendy, uninteresting fodder.

This goes for everyone who has decided they know what life is all about at the age of thirty or under. Because people don't know jack shit about shit. They regurgitate sentence fragments they and quotes from the internet they found inspiring. They watch continuous streams of philisophical jack-off sessions on YouTube as constant bias confirmation.

Do atheists bother me because they are atheist? No. They bother me because they couldn't be any more fucking boring and insipid.

There is a certain category of people who subscribe to close-mindedness the second they find anything that shares like values. They instantly begin top study all material pertaining ONLY to subjective "truth" they have discovered. Their intellectual face is a pore-clogged mess of blackheads and grease which they make no attempt to wash before cluttering it with even more nonsense that only serves to backup their very well informed opinion - well informed, at least, only from one angle, from one solid, detrimental perspective.

Open the pores first. Clean out the dirt. The Cartesian approach of ditching all "knowledge" and finding your own truth through extensive, exhaustive study is what forms an individual with character; one who might have something remotely interesting to say.

If I see one more fucking atheist who only reads the Bible to learn quotes to fire off at "stupid Christians" in one of their long-winded bullshit "debates", I think I'll lose my fucking mind.

It's the pot calling the kettle black, obviously. I am more than guilty of doing this. But I was also doing it during a time where the most interesting thing I created ended up in the toilet every morning. This isn't a carrion cry for people to pick up the books; I don't really give a shit what they do at this point. I just never want my perceived "atheism" (if I am forced to use any limp-wristed term to pidgeonhole myself, I am agnostic at best) to lead to another boring, deluded, group-think conversation with some patsy who thinks we can be friends because we both have the incredibly broad thinking perspective of simply NOT believing in a specific God.

This is the same sort of shit mentality that leads people to believe they have made a new "friend" when one of mommys pals comes over for coffee time and brings her worthless little broodling along for the ride. You aren't friends; the little shit was forced to be there. Keep playing with your lego and shut the fuck up; he will be just as excited to leave as you will be to pretend someone gives a shit about you for more than two seconds.

The chances are exceedingly good that I couldn't give a good goddamn about anything about you. It isn't your fault, and it isn't pretentiousness; I am at least as fucking miserable and boring as you are. The only difference is that I don't spend every day thinking otherwise and trying to bore others with my bullshit "conversation", the absolute lowest form of entertainment.

If I'm going to get caught up in the "rather-to's", I'd rather read a shitty book any day than spend a single second talking about ideologies. At least a book offers a little quietude and doesn't have halitosis.

Deciding that you have somehow transcended, that you have "figured it all out", especially after crunching your brain to read one or two books on whatever philosophy or worldview it is you are trying to adopt is intellectual cowardice. The people who claim they know nothing are the only ones who know anything, because they have learned enough to realize that there is too much knowledge out there for them to possibly ever know.

The more you learn, the less you know. That fact alone makes it impossible to ever fully subscribe to anything with any real conviction; there will always be something else out there to prove your worthless ass to be fundamentally wrong about everything.

If this sounds hard, don't worry; it will all be over soon. If it's too much to handle in the meantime, there is always television and radio; it doesn't ask you for anything except for the attention of your flaccid, vapid brain. It just wants another pile of grey putty to play with.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013


I like to think I'm made of better stuff than wasting my time playing video games and farting all day.

I'm probably wrong.

Over the course of the last couple of months, the things I have taken interest in have changed dramatically. This was orchestrated on purpose; with a mind made of putty right now, I want to mold it with decent stuff.

Of course, I read; a lot. I spend most of my day reading. The reason is simple; to keep my mind active. When my mind is stagnant, I start feeling shitty again. The medication helps, but only so much; I have to work at things as well. A busy mind is a happy one.

Apart from that, I've found two sort of bizarre "non-hobbies". They aren't something I can necessarily actively do, like reading a book or playing a game, they are just things I am interested in.

The first is an obsession with the consumption of Capsaicin, that nasty little chemical inside hot peppers that makes them hot. I collect hot sauces, and repeatedly torture myself and build up my tolerance level. It seems sort of vague and passive, but when I am concocting new habanero recipes on a daily basis and searching for new peppers and sauces and products, it can actually be pretty involving. I can eat hotter things than a lot of people.

The second is pin up art and photography. I am a fetishist. I really enjoy nylons and heels, and have always had a near obsessive fascination with the female form. It's not just masturbatory; the art I am interested in often centers around women. They are the last bastion of any goodness the human race has to offer, and it is due to their natural, curvy beauty. Of course, women these days don't always get that, and often dress like shit. But pin ups from the fifties and sixties never fail me. I have a few artbooks, and am starting to collect other pieces; I have a growing fascination with Bettie Page. This is as close to a "manly" hobby as I am willing to have, and some may find it strange, but I'd rather have hot chicks on my walls than sports memorabilia. I've never been interested in the closet faggotry of organized sports. I'd rather dive head first into an active volcano than watch "the game", no matter what that game happens to be.

I have a sexual drive the size of a pick up truck. It's an irrefutable part of my personality. I prefer the company of women due to their natural aesthetic beauty, which is ENTIRELY SEXIST. But you know what? I'm okay with that. I'm a bit prejudiced in other ways, too. Hell, in todays day an age, that is one other thing that sets me apart from the rabble, so I'm willing to embrace it rather than run away from it; I'd rather be pegged as a chauvinist (however unfairly) than "fit in" with overly PC hipster Liberal types. Fuck them in the mouth.

I'm also growing increasingly fascinated with BDSM, mostly the history of it. I'd wager I'm probably somewhat submissive under a female hand, no doubt a fact that goes hand in hand with my worship of women in some way. I don't mind when a bitch raps my ass with a bit of wood as long as I'm allowed to come at the end of it; if I'm not in too much pain to do so.

See? THIS is why I never changed the name of my blog. I AM a fucking degenerate.