“Imminent Annihilation sounds so dope…”
— Grimes, ‘My Name Is Dark’
Mortality Salience in conjunction with its prescription via Terror Management Theory suggests a drift of sorts to Apocalyptic Answers. This meaning, in the face of understanding death as a natural inheritance for everything as it would seem, natural disasters interpreted to the psyche’s understanding and the creation of poetic, fiery end-times scenarios as a result. Beautiful depictions of finality most, if any will ever truly live to bear witness.
That grains of truth as a result of observation in the natural world follow consistently throughout tale and scientific hypothesis would be and is clear. Famines, extreme weather, geologic and cosmological cataclysms… whether some deity exists in conjunction is irrelevant; the fact there will be some fiery end then oblivion is. That remains throughout— imposed ideals about continued existence are frankly too inconsistent with living nuances to be reliable. What is certain is the finality. What is certain is an end worth witnessing in its brutal beauty. It sounds so dope.
Annihilation is comforting in its simplicity; like comedy as horror, making the idea of its imminency comforting in its nothing… Neurotically.
Not caring about living or dying for that matter it’s, “like, ‘whatever, fuck it’ […] how that gets fun,” and gets, “so dark it turns in on itself…” the lyricist behind the lyrics opening remarked in an interview. Annihilation as a wish is a projection, and inheritance. Serene in its calamity, “it’s not a life sentence, but a death-dream…”
***
Fear and Fetish, wherein they meet and where they divorce is up to complete circumstantial speculation. The Law of the Forbidden is an aspect of the Law of Attraction; meaning something stimulates both alarm and arousal, the latter caused by the former.
“…I will come on thee as a thief, and thou shalt not know what hour I will come upon thee.”
— Revelation 3:3 KJV
Fetish and Fear are intertwined. Freudian as it may seem, that annihilation is a fetish— it’s a thrilling thought of course it is. Annihilation is a kinky ideation in:
1. The instant ego gratification in death as symbolic fulfillment.
2. Annihilation in most if not every case would not be instantaneous; the dread becomes dreamy.
Instant ego gratification in death from annihilation caused by factors that, ‘if I go, at least so does everyone else!’ or, personal biology preventing suicide. Or some number of nuances varying.
The core of this however is not dissimilar from the jouir of say, some imagined orgasm. A monumental release, not necessarily sexual but at least implicitly. The end is always cinematic in characterization. Whereas the pleasure from the dread of waiting is in the more realistic approach, but neurotically flawed even in that— “the end of the world doesn’t come suddenly or without warning. To imagine it does is to be fooled by popular misconception.”
Almost reaching the top of the mountain, but never quite peaking.
“One must imagine Sisyphus happy…” in that, absurdly and sadomasochistically. Pleasure from pain; power from pain. That is the idea. Whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger? Maybe. Scar tissue covers wounds, thicker or thinner than previous skin. Wounds differ and The Body Keeps The Score. “Whatever doesn’t kill you is gonna leave a scar…”
What is power? What is power from pain? What is power if derived from pain? How much and for how long can that truly sustain? What’s even the point?
Might being momentary, strength as ability to adapt to the situation: whatever doesn’t kill leaves a scar. Until death, until decay, until humans no longer exist as even a thought in the universe. What is power in a vast void?
On a Pale Blue Dot in the midst of an uninhabitable vacuum, cosmic indifference is notable. That nothing can be so arousing, is something interesting. But, it’s only an efficient source of stimulation for so long.
Pure dread or sensual suggestion, neurosis ensues.
***
The world is always ending. It’s always beginning too. Most focus on the former. Anything, trivial or of magnitude means the end of the world. It never does, it keeps spinning. Only when engulfed by our dying star in a millennia, will it officially cease to.
***
Gift auf Deutsch ist poison in English. Alcohol is known as poison. Life is neither a blessing or innate course of suffering: it just is.
Adaptation or annihilation?
That is the real question in this.
Adrenaline is short lived. Pain only produces so much power, if it can even be called that. Perpetual pain for power, like in the fictional example Darth Sion is at the expense of any possibly derived pleasure— pain for power in order to inflict more pain perpetuating more power. Eventually, neurotically, there’s nothing left. Attempting to escape nothing, reducing one to insignificance.
Ironic.
Like Sion; like Wallace Baker.
Unlike Jay & Silent Bob.
Sober solely for the short span of the second installment of Clerks, the famous slacker stoner duo. Even meeting God herself, the conclusion is simple: go to the QuickStop and hang out. JRR Tolkien stating this ideal simply in that, “if more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world…” and echoed by Jack Sparrow in this sentiment: “not all treasure is silver and gold.”
What value there is, merely aesthetic. Power without pleasure is as worthless as it should seem. Psychodrama based on shininess can only go so far.
Simplicity isn’t stagnation, but small-talk is.
One spoon at a fucking time; having fun in not giving a fuck collapsing into itself.
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