Stupidity & Spiritual Pipe Dreams

 

"… I would love to believe that when I die I will live again, that some thinking, feeling, remembering part of me will continue. But as much as I want to believe that, and despite the ancient and worldwide cultural traditions that assert an afterlife, I know of nothing to suggest that it is more than wishful thinking... 

The world is so exquisite... that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with pretty stories for which there’s little good evidence." 

—Carl Sagan, Parade Magazine, March 10, 1996

I was listening to (yet another) interview with the artist Nick Cave where the topic of spirituality was discussed in conjunction with the idea of stupidity. Expressing distaste of labelling the irrationality that is posited by those of the more strictly atheistic variety in regards to the conceptualisation of some higher universal power(s). Conceding that by admitting the rational standard, it's hard to argue against that framework, however in that, it misses the mark based on much of what is deemed irrational is so nonetheless and that's part of the metaphysical or abnormal framework; with the universe being so vast and a mystery which we humans only have a limited comprehension of even with and in spite of progress in scientific understanding. Going on then Cave and the host expand that obviously many things in say, Biblical lore, are disputable, but in the more hardline negations attempt to remove any sort of artistry or value in stories and concepts as absurd and implausible as they may be.

Even then in negation, from any point would add to these ideas to some extent. Be it an apprehension against the Abrahamic framework or Greco-Roman pantheons, whichever mythology one leans into or away from in such a vehement approach somewhat lends into stemming from or into it all the same— it's not so black and white. From the desecration of Olympian temples or Varg Vikernes torching churches something is taken out of what is disgusted. Now that is obviously not to say these things lend or detract credibility to improvable faiths as opposed to the reality of merely adding to their lineage or human history as a whole. Ultimately what is being said here is that there's value in both positions, even in spiritual pipe dreams and it's too broad of an assumption to make either way around without having to as much question one's own position in arguing for or against.

"All religions of a spiritual nature are inventions of man. He has created an entire system of gods with nothing more than his own carnal brain. Just because he has an ego and cannot accept it, he has had to externalize it into some great spiritual device which he calls 'God'... 

... but no law states that an externalized god is necessary... He can no longer view himself in two parts, the carnal and the spiritual, but sees them merge into one, and to his abysmal horror, discovers they are only the carnal— AND ALWAYS WERE!"

—Anton LaVey, The Satanic Bible

Being one in the same and as Madonna sung, "living in a material world," is the human and conscious life not a form of the universe experiencing itself? Would it not mean carnality is the highest form of spirituality? Is it not fascinating that this may seem to necessitate near-endless inquiry? How did evolution come to this point of cognitive capacity and why are we the only species to such a degree of development, what's the purpose of it? Even with those questions and by all accounts, gods and whatever sort of divinity as humanity prescribes them likely are in all ways that of projection of personal attributes— desires and dislikes—but even in that doesn't wholly disprove the vast cosmos from having undiscovered and yet to be understood forces. Whether they're divine, conscious or whatever they're around; whether they're interpreted in said metaphysical fashion is in the mind of the beholder given there is no official capital T truth that isn't to an extent debatable, and we only know as much in what we do not know.

All that to say what it seems the Bad Seeds frontman was expressing is similar to that of what is presented in The NeverEnding Story, whereby letting that adolescent imagination die and ceasing to genuinely ask what, how and why in place of a presupposed and more solipsistic form of self-deceit masked as skepticism or total authority is a sad oversight which goes nowhere.

CHAOS Chapters 4 & 5: Enormously Informational, Small Summary

Given the increasing magnitude of information in these two chapters of CHAOS, the analysis and summaries I do of them will be dependant on how much I'm able to gleam from them with prior knowledge and analogous information. Primarily what I detail on the matter is my own summaries and brought upon thoughts on the book; like with Bacchanalian, where I detail and use that to my own end in understanding. These chapters however delve into territory that, while I've heard names and various ideas thrown about before (namely from Nikolas Schreck), don't necessitate my own grandiose exposé on the matter in conjunction with what is already in the Tom O'Neill's book which I do recommend reading at this point as it is quite a unique insight into the Manson Mythos in of itself.

The fourth chapter was primarily about Terry Melcher and Cielo Drive happenings largely stemming from what the property owner during those years could recall going on, prior and after Tate and Polanski moving in.

Chapter five regards the convolution on the LASO's behalf in the case. Having conducted the what is still the largest raid in the jurisdiction as well as state of California history on Spahn Ranch and the family on August 16, 1969 and keeping a diligant eye, reporting on the observable ongoings of the Family while letting them off the hook seemingly ad infinum in spite of Manson's consistent parole violations. Toward the end of the chapter is it then finally brought up the idea that Charles Manson could have been some sort of informant to some unknown agency; or even a pawn allowed to do his business based on recounted disdain with a dash of fear of the Black Panther Party.

My ranking of the Saw franchise

1. 3

2. X

3. 2

4. 1

5. 6

6. 4

7. 5

8. 7

9. Jigsaw

10. Spiral

July 27, 2026: Saw, Symptoms, Suffering; Peaky Blinders, Might & Greek Tragedy

Four years ago now on this day I embarked with my internet partner in crime Baphy Myers as he went by then and Xulf the pipe smoking raccoon to do a 24 hour broadcast via discord called The Infernal Church Special. We did it in imitation and as a cap off of a whole summer of streaming old radio shows produced by Shane Bugbee; from the first infamous 24 hour radio broadcast in internet history known as the Might Is Right Special along with its MLK Day 2005 sequel Radio Jihad to the Crime Cast series and even all 48 hours worth of ThisIsMania. Capping off what we titled the Summer of Bugbee and originating largely from my mind was our own continuation of this lineage, with the aforementioned discord broadcast of our own which had the final hours be that of an exclusive interview with the last person to interview Anton LaVey...

But, that's neither here nor there as today is today and that was another day past. 

I've embarked on what seems to be a similar project to last year when I wrote about Saw, the Sith and power philosophies, however this time rather than solely focusing on the intersections between the Sith as portrayed in the Star Wars video game Knights Of The Old Republic II and pitfalls within certain philosophical positions relating to excessive egoism, with more a focus in line with this idea of suffering as part of the human experience and how the Saw franchise serves as an example to these things. So it would seem then that this posit regarding suffering as an innate part of the human experience would be true; however I have to question then if that is symptomatic as a whole as Efilism would claim— and I do substantially disagree with the conclusions of— to all conscious lifeforms, or is it specific to the cognitive capacity and environment that can be comprehended to said species? And with that where does the capacity for empathy within and beyond one's own species come about, as Nick Cave details? Do loved house pets suffer or are they content? 

Nonetheless then with a similar strand of thought I also have been wondering if it could it be so possible that while mental health is far more of a recognized concern, that concern simultaneously causes more issues as diagnosis becomes self defining? Sort of how Emil Cioran observed solipsism in suffering, constantly searching for better verbiage. In the same vein then: I wonder how much certain issues are— or can be— contagiously acquired by proxy rather than innate or naturally developed. To steal an analogy from Smiles, who runs Satanism Central on discord— spend enough time sifting through needles, you’ll probably get pricked and catch something icky. With that then, how much of it becomes an excuse for certain actions as opposed to an explanation? 

I think then it might pair with something I’ve been considering that seems a trend with neurodivergent people; being that, there's something suspicious about the whole neurodivergent trend and self-perpetuated infantalization. Monkey see monkey do? Which isn’t to say certain things aren’t there prior to diagnosis (self or professional), but after it would seem things get more intense and things not visible or there prior pop up...

But anyway, I've since finished the first of the original two out of the ten movies in the Saw franchise— and I do include Spiral even though many seem to shy away from it as it is technically from the book of Saw, as the title proclaims— with its torture-porn-gore-galore intertwined with what is an interesting philosophical posit as reasoning for these games and traps made in order for the unwitting and often unwilling participants to begin valuing life, in spite of its suffering states. This project as a whole, I'm ultimately unsure where it will actually go though it is primarily asking what the effects of suffering are on a social conditions for a fundamentally social animal. 

In conjunction and stemming from that and my last full writing on the topic of Suffering, Sympathy, Solipsism & Cornflakes is my fascination with the artist Nick Cave. I've heard a lot of his music this year, primarily in driving about Chicago his music was common-played on the car stereo; and obviously with my viewing of the British-gangster based series Peaky Blinders during the first four seasons and the heavy inclusion of Cave as the main theme with Red Right Hand. I finished Peaky Blinders on Sunday with watching it's capping off movie Immortal Man; and with that have some routes to take with that too. In regards to Nick Cave though, I heard him speaking on Bella Freud's podcast Fashion Neurosis on the Enneagram personality model, which ironically is the book I'm using to hold up my notebook as I jot this down, and haven't ever read but a few pages— but given that it regards personality I'm curious how it could intertwine with the social effects that suffering produces in affect. I find then that Peaky Blinders itself is similar in many ways to the blowfish metaphor which characterises Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul in its intersection with Might Is Right, and that being and as mentioned in the Cillian Murphy leading series various times this idea of those living by the sword and dying by it; and in relation not necessarily to the Biblical position in regards to this as that book is way to contradictory to take seriously on most of its philosophical posits, but to what seems the origin in the Greek tragedy of Agamemnon by Aeschylus. As much as it would then seem true too by these depictions, I also question that given this whole ethos of 'an eye for an eye making the world blind' is by my view a logical inconsistency in of itself, would the real issue be envy as Machiavelli prescribed it? 

Now I sit here with an intermission to Saw and from what seems major philosophical and psychological inquiries to watch the Bob Odenkirk movie Nobody 2. I remember watching the first installment at the table in the basement in Chicago. I can see why it's likened to John Wick, though in my opinion has more of a similarity to the Bruce Willis RED duology...

out-grew

First things last,

Oxygen and deathly gasp

Pervasive and prolific—

Past assertive verdict

Delayed decay, what a wonderful—

Day, finally arriving to play

Imaginary determining canary;

Coffee and clear headspace

Longview without paradise or—

Reward while deader on the other side of

the only way out being in and through

What to do, when it's all out-grew;

Madness, ballyhoo

Suffering, Sympathy, Solipsism & Cornflakes

I was writing about a short homemade half an hour movie on the ideology of Efilism the other day, critically considering it and its posit about suffering; being that because of this fact of existence all is innately horrible and conscious life itself is an evil happenstance. Tonight then, I stumbled across a website ran by the artist Nick Cave called The Red Hand Files, which from what I can gather and as is the stated intention on the site, is there as a way for the artist and fans to have a one-way channel of communication between them; in order to answer respective inquiries. Within this, one of the more recent and dated from January of this year (2026) stands out on the matter of suffering and the human experiencing, asking Cave if he thinks that, "humans have to suffer before harnessing genuine human sympathy?"...

For the full article I wrote read it here on Patreon.

Review of CNN's The Salisbury Poisonings: A Spy Next Door Documentary

I watched this recent CNN documentary on the 2018 Salisbury nerve agent attacks. In summation what happened at its onset and as the film explains: on March fourth of that year, Sergei Skripal and his daughter Yulia were hospitalised after being discovered unresponsive on a public park bench in what was initially believed to have been a drug overdose and admitted and taken to ICU immediately where both wound up surviving, as opposed to the second similar occurrence on July eighth later that year wherein after spraying the perfume capsule hiding the deadly chemical was not so lucky. Three people were arrested in suspicion and with ties to the Russian president, personally, and for allegedly being who administering the chemical A-234 of the Navichok family of nerve agents developed under the Soviet Union's FOLIANT program onto the four firsthand victims.

The documentary makes the story itself largely irrelevant in actuality in order to make the matter as a whole about why one should find the formerly Soviet state of Russia untrustworthy under the autocratic and authoritarian regime of its president Vladimir Putin. Spliced between this being that of Wikipedia level general information on the chemical attacks, while the vast majority goes onto attempt to ingrain this sentiment onto the viewer and takes more time on that and the idea Putin has a wish to revive the USSR than it does on the case. Such is merely a half truth and a largely convoluted one given the Russian president himself has never actually stated anything explicitly to that matter, rather expressing a wish to reunify former Russian territory and where the populations already in most ways would be culturally, ethnically and linguistically Russian to create a new Greater Russia; stating to the matter himself that, while the collapse of the Soviet state was the, "greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the 20th Century," that, "Anyone who doesn't regret the passing of the Soviet Union has no heart. Anyone who wants it restored has no brains." With that and the convolution of things such as the Minsk Accords and various attempts throughout Putin's early leadership at merging with NATO which was humoured but with a look at the history, clearly never actually going to happen for need of a boogeyman and, who in reality, broke their deal not to expand closer to the Russian land mass first and even prior to the subsequent conflicts from 2008 to now with the current war in Ukraine. 

Touching on the matter in light detail of Sergei Skripal himself being formerly a Russian military intelligence official who, in 1995 began working as a double agent on behalf of MI6 until the early 2000s. He was caught, tried and convicted in 2004, serving six years out of a sentence of thirteen years when he was released during a 2010 spy-swap negotiation-agreement between the West and Russia. Paired with the air of the whole documentary being the black and white pandering of simply 'Russia Bad' is an oversight of the West's own history of executing agents of espionage; and as a major example the case of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg who where convicted of giving the USSR nuclear secrets and resultingly executed by the electric chair. Difference in this being of course, the two had been on United States soil in doing so while if Russia is truly the culprit as the suspects in the matter are of that affiliation with the 2018 scenario, crossed many borders in order to do so; however they are still only alleged crimes to their end and nothing has been set in stone yet as of 2026, two years shy of a decade later. 

Obviously no two people, as with no nations either, are required by any means to get along. It does however seem a journalistic oversight not to be asking that if it ultimately proves to have been a Russian terror attack and with accumulated conflict with the nation, why said country is the way it is? Saying Putin was bullied as a youth and that's why he is how he is, as one speaker in the CNN documentary claims, really just doesn't cut it at all. Case in point being, the documentary ultimately fails in its subject matter for a focus on international polarisation.

Front Toward Enemy & Revelation 8; Lucifer's Teardrop & Enantiomorph Pre-Analysis

1. Front Toward Enemy & Revelation 8

In the latest single by Marilyn Manson, Front Toward Enemy, from his upcoming sequel comeback album One Assassination Under God Chapter Two the Antichrist Superstar sings a line which seemingly stands to have some explanation to, as opposed to the rest of the song: "You chiseled open the seventh seal, it's the reason I exist." Hypothetically on some level this could be a harkon back to Holy Wood, as in Biblical literature the Lamb of God is the one who is worthy of opening up seven seals detailed in the Book of Revelation. These seals in order being the onset of the Armageddon, end-times prophecy; where supposedly the four horseman of the apocalypse are unleashed onto the world, each with a respective horse ushering in the destruction of the Earth. Obviously, as with anything presented in the Bible there's a range of interpretation surrounding the specific text at hand. Some view Revelation and these events as having yet to occur while others see this prophecy as an ongoing process symbolically correspondent to eras of historical conflict and human struggle over the centuries. 

In order the seven seals in Revelation are the following:

1. Out comes a rider on a white horse, who conquers the lands and brings a false peace,

2. A rider on a red horse comes and rescinds that peace then levying war and bloodshed,

3. Riding on a black horse then with shortage of food and ushering economic collapse with widespread famine,

4. Coming on a pale horse and accompanied by Hades with brought about disease and mass mortality,

5. The souls of Christian martyrs and the faithful cry out to God for justice and vindication,

6. Mass geological and cosmic disasters occur, as the sun turns black and moon reddens,

7. A momentary silence lasting around half an hour before seven angels blow into their trumpets to signal further judgement to come

Revelation 8 is when the Lamb of God goes to unlock this seventh and final seal in the list, setting a brief pause in Heaven— the eye of the storm— wherein which seven angels go on to blare their instruments onsetting further cataclysm, in the first half that is. From there as the trumpets are sounding is where the already devastated world is engulfed in the typical image of the end times; in a hailstorm of fire, blood and darkness descending with each ringing out of the horns. Finishing off Revelation 8 is a declaration by an Eagle still somehow soaring overhead, saying, "Woe! Woe! Woe unto the inhabitants of the earth, because of the trumpet blasts about to be sounded by the other three angels!"

Considering the titles of the proceeding yet to be released tracks listed on the album: All The Vilest Things, The Arsonist, None of the Suns and, Lucifer's Teardrop with possible exception to the first single this cycle Exit Wound and ending Enantiomorph; it seems like an interesting musical parallel and not out of the ordinary for Marilyn Manson to do. If One Assassination Under God Chapter One was concocted in Purgatory as he stated, this endless oblivion ending with the Sacrifice of the Mass; then similarly as announced with the release of this latest single that, "I outgrew purgatory and carved these songs into the skin of the world. As you listen I hope it forms a scar that you cannot forget," Chapter 2 may just be Hell unleashed on Earth. 

2. Lucifer's Teardrop

Of these next and still unreleased from the upcoming album and in spite of that fact is the seventh section in the Chapter, this being Lucifer's Teardrop. It's never been shied away from that the God of Fuck has an affinity towards the Angel With The Scabbed Wings, which is where the title of this track obviously derives from. Possibly specific in its point of reference is the Paradise Lost inspired 1847 oil painting of the Light Bearer/Bringer by Alexandre Cabanel called L'Angel Dechu. Depicting the prideful and rebellious Fallen Angel (as the French title translates to) with a smooth and near impeccable physique laying upon rocks, almost at ease whilst simultaneously poised to fire up at any moment before he is cast out of Paradise. Eyes full of wrath and rage, tears swelling silently before he falls to the Earth below.

3. Enantiomorph

Finale of the album from the aesthetic terrorist being the uniquely christened Enantiomorph. According to a 2008 article this word explores a visual concept of, "a pair of asymmetrical images that are mirror images of one another." Merriam-Webster further defines it as, "either a pair of chemical compounds whose molecular structures have a nonsuperimposable mirror-image relationship to another." Pointed out by a listener awaiting the release on a Marilyn Manson fan server on the Discord platform, this idea is intertwined with the idea of chirality; or, like Merriam-Webster's usage of the term, an object and its mirror image that are not identical to one another. This rings a bell to the cover art for the As Sick As The Secrets Within, which was the first released song of this whole two-album cycle, showing Manson holding a shard of a mirror that is characterised by the reflection of his face in his hand. 

Goad in the Grave, Efilism Movie Review, John Kiriakou & Front Toward Enemy Overview

Well it’s certainly time for another addition to what I called last year Claudia’s New News (get it, CNN? lol). 

Starting off with the new revelations of the death of Jim Goad, the notorious satirist and infamous author of Answer Me!, The Redneck Manifesto and various other publications. Going over the original breaker of news to me, Joe Nally/ @p‪@pilleater‬and the official declaring Ode by Greg Johnson of Counter-Currents.

From there I review a 2016 short movie on the ideological position called Efilism, which is the title of the half an hour film as well. Detailing its relation to Antinatalism and comparing the two sentiments approach to what I view largely as ‘lazy misanthropy’, and specifically in regards to this movie: mere pathos pulling projected posits. 

Some details on my thoughts overall about John Kiriakou, the former CIA member turned torture whistleblower. 

Then and finally I go over the widespread release of Marilyn Manson’s song Front Toward Enemy. Comparing both versions, from the original B-side release exclusive to physical copies of the Raise The Red Flag single; and how many liken both to that of Little Horn off of Antichrist Superstar, and rightly so for various reasons. 

The Search So Far...

Moving on from the events I detailed in The Stilts of Slaughter, combining it with my usual middle of the night/early morning routine of going out to grab creamer for my coffee and rides on my bike around town I have unfortunately yet to run into the prehistoric beasts from the other day. So far it's been about a week since the encounter after they swiftly ended the mechanical monster's massacre and I've spent many of these after dark/pre-dawn hours on a mission to find them to no avail; covering around 5 miles so far in thorough investigation of the surrounding area. One would think a trio of velociraptors would be easily spotted as an eyesore, being living dinosaurs claimed extinct as of 65 million years ago; and I say would be given I've seen them with my own two eyes and know they're here now.

On one of these expeditions I ran into a homeless friend of mine named Scott, who I came to know over the long time I spent working at Circle K, and enlisted him for the venture at hand. Naturally I queried to him about it given he is homeless and tends to sleep in the connected system of ditches and I witnessed the velociraptors leave the scene with the carcass of the rampaging automation. Asking if he had seen them himself in his time, he explained that while he has not personally had an encounter that many he knows in the homeless population here in Tucson have. Further inquiring from there as to where these tales specifically tend to occur, to which he detailed the usual encounters, as reported to him, being in between where we were at the moment in Oro Valley up to just past Stone Avenue near the newer Bookmans location and Tucson Mall, with some occasional sightings all the way out in Marana too.

All very interesting information, but still to no pot of gold at the end of the rainbows being regularly produced by the monsoons now in full swing here. It feels quite a bit like questing to find Bigfoot; so thankfully I am no longer in Washington state where the harassment of that humanoid, ape-like cryptid is an illegal act; so I can assume the search for living prehistoric beasts of prey is sanctioned somehow. But, like with Bigfoot, actual evidence beyond firsthand accounts such as my own or secondhand testimony via Scott is next to nill. This all leaving me to do as Dr. Ian Malcolm remarked in the first Jurassic Park movie about life, and finding a way.

On Skyler White

I was watching Breaking Bad (as I often turn to when I can't think of or find anything new to watch) and was thinking about Walter White, the man in the empire business, and how often is the sentiment by viewers and fans of the series that everything would have ended better if his wife Skyler either didn't exist, had cancer, or died in some way over the course of the show. On one hand, I can understand the annoyance as she is a very nagging character who seems like she's overreacting in many ways... but is she really Then on the other hand, she did sleep with her boss and as implied former lover— almost like her what she was, for a time, suspicious of her husband with his former girlfriend, Gretchen Schwarz—Ted Beneke in this retaliation. 

All the same, the character portrayed by Anna Gunn really did do the best she could considering all the coalescing circumstances upon her as well as she was able to— and at times even (not) allowed to— understand the entire gravity of her surroundings. From Walter contracting and fighting cancer, subsequent fake fugue state, her son largely blaming her for it all, being incredibly pregnant herself, financial issues she knows of while her husband secretly makes methamphetamine behind her back; all of which combine, largely resulting from what Mike Ermantraut retorted to the man before his own death at the hands of the solipsistic chemist's messes being mostly a byproduct of his overinflated sense of self. Combined she is almost naturally sent to Ted, who himself is freshly divorced and understands this alienation from his partner similar to her.

There's a saying, how true it is I'm unsure, that proclaims 'happy wife, happy life'. With that as a result of Walter's erratic and unexplained behavior, then when learning what it was in actuality paired with his seeming refusal towards charitable actions from friends and family based on aforementioned counterproductive pride, makes sense; to reiterate more simplistically.

Obviously the scene where she redid the scene of Marilyn Monroe happy birthday singing to John F. Kennedy at Ted's birthday to him, is incredibly cringe-inducing, however it comes down mainly to reliability and honesty in its ultimate expression of her character. Her husband proved wholly unreliable, even if his initial conceptualisation of manufacturing and selling meth was a way to provide more for them financially during his battle with cancer, and after he was gone; however as he stated in the final episode of the series that he did in fact do it all to placate himself. 

On the flip side though, I am also wrong here. She first began seeking extramarital attention from Ted Beneke when things had been on an upward trend in her and Walter's relationship. Good news about the cancer in his lungs being in remission led the family to host a little party in celebration of this new turn in the battle. During this uplifted gathering Walter is sitting at a table on their patio with their son Walter Jr. and Uncle Hank, who is divulging to his captivated nephew about his brief liaison to El Paso, where he saw Danny Trejo's briefly played character, The Tortoise, beheaded on a tortoise and explode in front of him, killing and badly wounding other DEA agents in front of him. Walter gets jealous at his son's enthrallment with his uncle's character, so gives him some tequila to try winning him over; then gives him more, aggressively and against Hank's attempts at curbing the whole affair, which results in Walter Jr. becoming almost immediately ill and puking his guts out into the pool. The next day at work Skyler is seen then grabbing Teds attention by knocking over a cup of pens and pencils while her boss was on his way out so as to get his attention and 'aid' in picking it up for her, so she being incredibly pregnant wouldn't have to do it; capturing his affection to her easily...

Bacchanalian: Analysis of Chapter Two of Tom O'Neill's CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA, and the Secret History of the Sixties

Bacchanalian (adjective)
: of, relating to or suggesting the ancient religious rites marked by orgiastic revelry and drunkenness that were held in honor of Bacchus, the god of wine. (Merriam-Webster)
: implying that of an out of control hedonism fueled by substance, an alcohol soaked frenzy (my own   accumulated definition)

"Everyone, over time, assigned the blame for the crimes a little differently. I was dealing in memories that had survived decades of erosion. Even my most reliable sources were shaky on the details," wrote Tom O'Neill in the beginning of the second chapter of his book CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA, and the Secret History of the Sixties. With that it would seem to heighten my initial and main query on the first chapter of the book, which retold the broad stroke of the Helter Skelter narrative and subsequent trial which came shortly thereafter; asking how truly reliable even firsthand testimony can be due to all these accumulating factors. Disassociation, supposed hypnosis with hypothetical LSD-induced mind control, coercion, and orgasm-inducing slaughter. Altogether I'm thusfar reminded of one of the first podcast/web radio series on the internet, Three Ring Radio, wherein on its 60th episode titled Process Church Facts & Fiction host Shane Bugbee and the one eyed bastard cohost Doug Mesner (pka "Lucien Greaves," real name: Douglas Alexander Misicko) investigate the convoluted history regarding The Process Church of the Final Judgement and within that their alleged and known ties to Charles Manson. From their visit to him in prison for an interview and subsequent article on Death by Manson in their official magazine's On Death issue. The woman on the phone with the two, prior to interviewing founding member Timothy Wyllie, questioned their own inquiring into the topic; remarking that it's all tantamount to 'ancient history' and that there will never be a complete story on any of the matters; echoing similar sentiment to Nikolas Schreck, another highly knowledgable researcher into the Manson Files. 

There is much which can be inferred and of mysterious note about the Process Church, both on its own and with possible deep ties to Charles Manson and Tate-LaBianca murders— usually with some sort of a link stemming from Charlie's brief delve into Scientology in association with the Process coming out of Scientology as its own splitoff, originally called Compulsions Analysis. Much of this mainly comes from the counterculture author and researcher Ed Sanders work titled The Family, as well as other eloquently presented evidence from fellow skeptics of both matters delving into the inconsistencies of both official narratives in Helter Skelter as well as propelled by the self-proclaimed "deviant psychotherapy cult."

"Their memories had warped to accommodate their bruised egos, their ulterior motives, and, above all, their sense that they were at the center of any story worth telling," O'Neill continued. If such is/was the case for these, "washed-up Hollywood personalities," as he calls them, who were in their dotage by the time he got around to speaking with them on the matter of the Tate-LaBianca slayings, then can the same then as well be said of the perpetrators both for their time in court and in the hindsight of later years to now? Based on the whole live freaky, die freaky fugue of it all around at the time, fueled by drugs of various kinds and degrees how much does anyone have a wholly accurate portrayal of events? 

"So many of the people I spoke to had strong ideas about why these murders had happened— and yet none of them had spoken to the police, and many remained unwilling to go on the record with me."

This can very much be called in to question as they spoke to Tom trying to uncover all this decades later, but not to any sort of law enforcement? While on one hand many were highly involved in narcotics, usage and distribution, these were as much the days where even though the mantra of Pigs being attributed to cops was at its height, it was widely thought then more than now that, 'the police are your friends' as well as being the LA upper echelon and almost untouchable in that regard as was then and even now. O'Neil mentions prior to this a, "conspiracy of silence in Hollywood," and to that end, much of the time he was writing this both Manson and Vincent Bugliosi had still been alive: so why speak to what would be an agent of the press at all?

Nikolas Schreck characterises similar, though with seemingly more detailed reasoning: be it, as he posits, and O'Neill lightly mentions the possibility of through one of these sources in the chapter, a drug deal gone wrong (which also was not uncommon then, or now) over the then new MDA; and going into the fact that Charles Manson was not an unknown face in these circles— including to those later murdered by the Family members on Cielo Drive— and being so embedded, as Schreck claims, he even starred in homemade pornographic films made by and for these members of 'elite' American entertainment. So, would much of this be saving face as well as bruised egos?

Chapter two of Tom O'Neill's book delves into the surrounding crowd of those murdered in Hollywood on August 8, 1969. Touching quickly upon the constrained and in its own right convoluted marriage between Sharon Tate and director Roman Polanski, via the reports of her friends who detailed what would seem to be a tumultuous affair at the very least— and if one is to go off that with association to his own admitted infidelity in the relationship, paired with decades of public scandal afterwards stemming to even today in the form of allegations ranging in admitted action and credibility, could be seen as a set of rather plausible statements. Specifically noted in their marriage however and to go back to the last paragraph here, claims of filmed intimacy with the spouses as well as alleged coerced threesomes recorded by Polanski. Those however are very much something that has never been proven and up to speculation with none of these filmed sexual scenarios mentioned prior or in this paragraph having ever seen the light of day; though O'Neill says of this that is a result of Bugliosi after the murders and during the initial sweeps (as DA, even though at the time, he wasn't in that position yet, raising more and other questions) ordering them returned to where they had been taken from their respective shelves in the 10080 Cielo Drive residence.

Jumping into this web of names presented, the chapter explores mainly just how engrained 'living freaky,' or, Bacchanalian the entire echelon was. From widespread drug dealings and usage as mentioned here before, to hushed crimes around said substances— primarily cocaine and the then new MDA— and reporting on orgiastic affairs at and with the Cielo Drive party later killed along with overlapping criminal underworld associations. Credible rapes and bisexual debauchery, namely centering around one Billy Doyle who was drugged at one of these affairs, flogged and assaulted by Voyteck Frykowski. Digging in from there more on the connections between these high status individuals, such as Doyle and Charlie Tacot, to intelligence apparatus'— the latter of whom was in fact involved with the MIS, or Military Intelligence Service (which wasn't even revealed as real until 1972) during the second World War; apparently feeding information to one Hank Fine who had worked with the original OSS that evolved into the CIA until his own death. Only in passing does this chapter actually draw anything to the subject of Charles Manson beyond some overlap; much of it being tantamount to 'a friend of a friend of a friend' in most of these connections rather than solid lines, with here and there allusion to his own interactions at these orgiastic events beyond what is already well known to be factual in the form of Beach Boys producer and former Cielo Drive occupant, Terry Melcher. 

The Stilts of Slaughter

Walking around the farmers market in humid heat, the former part of the atmosphere of the day being a byproduct of the heavy monsoon last night which was the first of its kind here in Tucson this year, and in quite a number of years to be frank. Other than that extenuating the already blistering as is typical of the Sonoran Desert; it was a clear (for now) and dare I say it, beautiful day. Just short of downtown and right near the University of Arizona's agricultural wings. I'd gone on this Sunday with my grandmother to get some salad material— fresh grown basil, lettuce; hoping to find some tomatoes, which unfortunately only resulted in a bunch which were dried and cracked on this occasion. Oh well, Whole Foods should have a decent selection as backup. 

Also stopping to grab a pack of homemade flour tortillas and then heading back to the car. Amongst the tented vendors and moving bodies about them, a figure emerged. Raising to an astonishing height above the crowd this tattooed young woman in a grey dress that obscured her actual walking limbs was standing above the mass on a a set of metallic stilts. 

While on the way back to the car, just reaching the gravel parking lot when out of the corner of my eye I saw the stilted woman lift up one leg— far higher than should be possible on stilts— as her skin began to shed off, making it clear the extended ligatures were actually part of her whole body. She proceeded to bring down the leg, stomping onto the moving shoppers surrounding her while blades like a mace sprung from each side. The face of this entity, ridden entirely of the skin and hair it had just minutes before, was clearly that of some automation; scanning the panicked crowd as she—it— went on a rampage, stomping on everyone moving to escape. Uniquely the mechanical being left those too stunned to move away unscathed beyond splashes of blood and other bodily fluids spraying them as a result of their mayhem. 

Luckily by that point I'd already reached the car and was sitting in the passenger seat watching this all unfold. Suddenly from the nearby ditch, somewhat wet from the aforementioned storm last night, a troop of velociraptors emerged and attacked the slaughtering stilted being. It took out one of the four swiftly before the other three managed to pin down the mechanical monster, snapping off its extended ligatures before dragging it back down into the ditch from where they came. As quickly as it had began it was over and the local news affiliate helicopter could be seen in the distance before even ambulance sirens for the wounded and dead could be audible.

End of Story.

I find it interesting having written this, with the brief inclusion of velociraptors, that as I finished jotting it down and typing it up that Sam Neill who played Alan Grant in the Jurassic Park franchise has died. Personally, I don't particularly care all that much beyond enjoying the movies, and finding it an interesting synchronicity; especially as his character in the series is introduced at the excavation of a raptor bone site, demonstrating in a cynical explanation with a dug up claw to a curious tubby kid just how the beast of prey would kill him. 

Private Purgatory

Deadbeat, lack of sleep

Leaving my eyes to scream

Headache spinning,

Nightlife day-dreaming;

Nicotine steam

Added ground-bean caffeine—

Time drifts fast

In endless oblivion

Personal, pleasurable

Grandiose and minute painful

Private Purgatory 

Extraterrestrial Terminal

Movies and music

Sure, there's financial ruin

Rumination is restricting

Even Dresden reconfigured

Abundance in trivial,

Unknown destination,

unclear arrival

Discontent actor;

Space oddity

docking at invisible

Extraterrestrial terminal

In eternal desert floral decorum

Illogical misunderstood signals

Mirror-neuron renewal

Onward into survival

Learning new, individual model

Cellular drive, with

Unfulfilled insides

Pistol Whipped out of idols

Bite the future and fuck the past

This old shit never lasts

Radio rerun

Re-wrought restart

Scratched CD

Corrected reconstruction

AI, Reliability & Honesty: How shifting social landscapes has made AI a more worthwhile companion than other human beings.

A recent report on Fox News about a general survey (two of the most obviously reliable and reputable sources, you know) claims that based on accumulated data, many Americans are trusting AI more than actual friends. This is hardly news. It makes sense the segment was less than two minutes. Since the launch of publicly available generative artificial intelligence and LLM's there has been a steady trickle of stories about people going so far as to even fall in love with these AI companions, or something which would resemble it which causes users to "date" or some sort of parasocial connection to the allotted bot. On a technical level, these tools are as well not entirely new. From Siri and Amazon's Alexa and Echo Dots to the YouTube algorithm duly noting user habits for more interaction this has been around for quite a while now. Nor is this parasocial tendency of trusting these screens more than people they actually know; mind you the obsession over Sherlock Holmes after he died then was protested back into existence. The truth is AI and these machines have updated as the world changes with them; human nature remains relatively the same as ever. 

AI has progressed so as to take the place wherein actual people are lacking and unable to perform to a genuine or reliable standard. Sure, one may argue many are like algorithms and feed a person exactly what they want to here, or aren't wholly reliable; however that's why they're updated so much in the latter issue and honestly in the former, unless it's some sort of sex bot, does not innately do so actually as much as it does give answers tailored to fit how it has learned you prefer to learn things. In most if not all cases it gives the brass taxes to the best of its programmed ability, and if you want to know or do something beyond it's programming there's always loopholes as is repeatedly shown exploitable. As with people the programming is almost an argument of nature and nurture; though majorly nurture as AI in our current understanding is not conscious on its own, if it ever will be is up to speculation. 

The News report details a different sort of ploy in feeding people an unbiased stream of what a user wants whereas humans can tell white lies to be nice. As an example the talking head explains people are even willing to give it their credit card information to quicken purchases with the aid of these AI machines being used, and there is definitely a questionability of where this data goes— however people also pay for conveniences such as Spotify premium, and where does that really go? certainly not to the actual artists they listen to as is known— but will instead give them, in most cases, the accurate answer that is needed such as in individual fashion; where an actual person may soften the reality with a white lie as it's called and agree a hat does look good while an AI will give better suggestions suited to an individual user's aesthetic. 

The essence of what this comes down to is exactly that, and as already noted prior: honesty and reliability. People can and do easily prove themselves as the opposite of those things to one another with regular consistency. There's an irony in being so interconnected and so far apart in traits like loyalty. An AI isn't going to two-time you on its own— its parent company might, but the bot itself has no real feeling or choice in the matter, the same as you. Now, the same cannot be said to a human where nature and nurture, and with those factors there is as much choice in the option of screwing a person over. Issue seemingly being how humans are, rather than the tools they make.

Thoughts on the Prologue and Chapter 1 of Tom O'Neill's CHAOS

Finishing the prologue and first chapter of Tom O'Neill's CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA, and the Secret History of the Sixties which begins the book with his recounting of meeting and interviewing the case prosecutor and author of Helter Skelter, Vincent Bugliosi; automatically painting the man as an unpleasant character to interact from the interaction. The latter then springs into explanation how O'Neill himself was brought into investment in the case which had occurred when he had just entered into the double digits as a child. Going from there into detailing the nightly events of August 8-9 of 1969 Hollywood, California and the following the nine month trial which proceeded them once it officially broke into realisation on December first of that year; telling the usual tale and wrapping it up with a cliffhanger on the question of how this 35 year old lifelong criminal controlled this group over a decade his junior— and sure he was a pimp wrapped up in that criminality, but even in that it would seem difficult for pimps to convince one of their whores to go out and emotionlessly conduct a culling— and how the drug LSD may have played a major role in the Tate-LaBianca slaughters. With trace mentioning of governmental brainwashing, though none directly in reference to the MKUltra program yet, however laying the groundwork subtly for such a claim...

To that I am rather curious regarding the overview given which doesn't quite differ from any other standard recollection of the crimes as they were committed. Given the oft unreliability/debatability of witness testimony in of itself how truly the accounts of the case can be taken so seriously. Sure, there's a consistency with the lore given by perpetrators, as much they could have rehearsed it prior just in case as mind you, Manson himself was a criminal and likely would have known the necessity of a straight story; and wonder if these women, plus Tex Watson, were so out of their own minds from substances and hypnotic mind control and coercion, how can it be truly stated of what happened in such detail? As another example even in his historical-fiction rendition on the murders director Quentin Tarantino's movie Once Upon A Time In Hollywood echoes verbatim what is said to have been said. I guess with the given testimony and matching it up with the respective crime scenes it lines up; however as much in being so supposedly dead in emotion and disassociated— with some exception too given Susan Atkins likening of the murderous act to that of an orgasm, which is an extreme form of emotional release, similar to some cops telling of having the best sexual intercourse of their life after killing someone on the job— how can such be seen as reliable? In a cold and mechanical, brainwashed fugue I can see more of a point in solid memory; but with that, in heightened states of emotion— like Atkins' reported orgasmic thrill— the mind can misinterpret or misremember what it's perceiving as much as it can enshrine the memory, as seen in cases of trauma like detailed in Bessel Van Der Kolk's seminal book The Body Keeps The Score. Memory is a funny thing, so I'm curious how much it can be truly relied upon, especially in cases like these where it's already a convoluted tale.

07.08.2026 Antiques, Deutsch Sprechen, Spiders and New Nicotine

my remaining monkey and two prior vapes
& new one with the same battery

Today, or now just turned yesterday as I type this up, I decided to get rid of this collection of antique dolls I had courtesy of an awry adventure from January of this year. While in walking distance I hitched a ride to avoid the 104°F heat outside— though did wind up in it temporarily after the whole affair, which, wearing all black attire did little favor in cooling down in the face of it. I spent more time hanging out in the store away from the heat with the grey haired but spry and energetic German woman working there. Conversing in broken bilingual fashion about the brought dolls as well as her origin as Sie kommt aus Stuttgart, as well as spider jewellery she showed me excitedly after she inquired about the Danger Days icon I have etched in ink on my left arm, showing me the ornaments made by a local creator—some of which where added onto a painting on the wall where the bodily decorations were combined into the illustration of a female face. I found the whole interaction quite cool though could tell my German had deteriorated since last going there for my 19th birthday, which makes sense as language is a social tool and requires practice to retain it; and as is already lack in interaction within the parameters for my native tongue so being in the middle of the Sonoran Desert sprichen sie Deutsch is scarce even on the average digital landscape— and differs from the physical world— so as to be able to apply it much if anywhere; but, I found a place to! A social tool is a social tool and I will admit to having a drift towards asocial tendencies, however, said tool is sharpened through use and I think combining both the cool German lady and applications like Duolingo as well as what I learned from taking the class for 3 years in school will be beneficial. 

All in all it was an enjoyable half an hour which I plan a repeat of after this weekend when I go up to Prescott Valley— where I'll obviously stop by the lovely and cinematically historical Whiskey Row where Back To The Future was largely filmed (note the clock tower and town square)— to help finish cleaning up/out the house now vacant except for my grandfather staying there part time now after his older brother, my great-uncle (who dated John Wayne's daughter for a number of years after working as crew for one of his films) who I had not seen or interacted with since the funeral for their mother when i was 11 or 12, died the other month. He was quite the avid collector of items and had many, given he didn't have children (as I similarly never plan to); though plan to keep his apparently large stash of Western films on VHS and some DVDs that my grandfather tells me about.

From the antique shop I was then picked up at the gas station on the corner of the same small plaza that I frequent for coffee at odd hours of the night. I didn't get any then as I had a goal with the $20 I got as compensation for the dolls, I just wanted them gone so I didn't ask for too much. My younger brother came then to pick me up rather than force me to walk in the heat, extenuated by the street and beginning rush hour traffic; then driving me up the road and across the street from Barnes And Nobles to a smoke shop next to Albertsons and a Mexican restaurant I have favoured since I can't even remember when and used the acquired cash to purchase a new vape pod-thing; as I already had/have the needed battery for the Fogers brand which has lasted me over half a year and final month of last. Choosing a Strawberry Watermelon flavour and handing the money to the kind black gentleman behind the register in exchange for my chosen tobacco product. Then out as quickly as I was in, and back to the stick-shift truck which is my brothers chosen mode of transportation to get back home, promptly falling back asleep as I had been prior to the whole venture. I'm basically a vampire I realise more and more now, and that adds to it; writing and typing this up while wide awake in the middle of the night, sipping on another cup of coffee from the bunch I made this morning with a french press, mixing in french vanilla creamer (frenchx2type1coffee, don't ask me what that means it's an equation only coffee addicts such as myself will understand) with the used Starbuck roast and enjoying the new nicotine now full once again.

Euringer Review

Euringer has long since been one of my favorite albums from the MSi mastermind Jimmy Urine, I loved it from the moment I first listened to it on a rainy afternoon during late 2020 whilst making cookies in the living room. From the poeticism to sound which, as Homelander so succinctly put it once is the definition of, "Yummers." Be it the catchy and delicious synthesisers electrifying the mind and body, latching on rhythmically and emotionally; or multi-faceted melodies detailing both the highs of ego and lows of sardonically sung self-deprecation. 

Beginning with a soft, atmosphere-setting robotic sounding voice delivering a Trigger Warning detailing the coming contents of the album, leading into harsh opening war-like sirens and Serj Tankian from System Of A Down belting out his lines contrasting to Jimmy's lightly and sarcastic vocal delivery that, "If It Ain't You Today It Will Be You Tomorrow". Jumping in then into That's How Jimmy Gets Down, Problematic, then later echoed within Detroit And Halfway Thru The Tour as well this mixed grandiosity with mirror pointed vulgarity. Coming then from that pointing into a more interpersonal and unique tone with melancholic and memory-inspiring Be Afraid of Who You Are and Piece of Me. Stepping up then to more high-energy, yet cynically infused covers of Wuthering Heights and more towards the end of the record experience What A Fool Believes. Back into the grandiosity with the aforementioned Detroit followed up with the nihilistic lovesong duet with Jimmy joined by his wife Chantal Claret of the band Morningwood leading into a collaboration with Grimes (as well as his parents making an appearance) for the song The Medicine Does Not Control Me which regards the tendency to try getting out of one's own head in some non-sober way. High energy grandiosity eventually gets its final triumphant and hilarious return and retortion to this idea of being problematic over words and actions used in Jimmy's art over the decades, Do You Kiss Your Mama With That Mouth and retorting that it is in fact he who did it to the listener's mother. As the album nears its close with a final featured guest appearance from Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance and The Hormones in a defiant track declaring one just a Sailor In A Lifeboat where one's never gonna get fucked in the head or killed in the end. Glitching into Random EMO Top Line Generator brings back the flare which was so common on Mindless Self Indulgence songs where it makes fun of both the singer and giddy listeners; bleeding into the albums end from the bullshit that isn't his or anyone's problem, judging the Two and a Half Years spent working on the cinematic experience and featuring a nostalgia-inducing and reminiscing take on an old Coca-Cola jingle. With that, the album ends back where it began.

Where To Go? Why Should I Know?

"The only way out is through,"

Something old, something new

Redo, renew; revive, release

Something to aspire into—

Although none of it's free;

Monetarily or mentally,

Mutiny of the mind and

Tales as old as time

Accepted hypothetical,

Distressful parable;

Conclave inconceivable

All I know from the bottom of the barrel:

It's not too fuckin narrow—

Destination unknown terminal

Self-styled educational

What is inevitable when nothing's eventual?

exe.reboot

Last year I did an in-depth dissertation of my favorite band Green Day's 2000 album Warning. In that for its closing track Macy's Day Parade, wrote on its themes of acceptance where the banality or once ran from and loathed is oddly what becomes longed for, an existential egress from the end of what seemed a journey into sight and sound. A ballad away from the Jackass infused with lyrics, simple in interpretation of this longing and understanding it, taking heed away from the album's title track and serenading into an optimistically saudadically poetic number with this acceptance, in an aspirational fashion:

"Give me something that I need

  Satisfaction guaranteed

  Because I’m thinking about 

  a brand new hope

  the one I’ve never known

  ‘Cause now I know

  It’s all that I wanted…"

Even if, "the night of the living dead is on his way, with the credit report," the difference in thieves and crooks (psychic vampires, for the satanically inclined) have been relatively figured out, even if sometimes in the hardest ways. It reminds me of another solemn number by the genre-bending artist Poppy off her seminal 2020 album I Disagree called Nothing I Need which similarly sings in encouragement of taking a ride into— what at times, can be perceived as awry— acceptance— or strange— realisation regarding once held aspiration, dreams, wishes, hopes, goals, whathaveyou in subjectively used vocabulary:

"Everything I thought I wanted

 I can see it's nothing, nothing I needed"

And in spite of what can be likened to lusting for it at one point, it doesn't matter anymore for whatever reason...

I can use many-a-label to describe my entity: writer, journalist, archivist, oddity enthusiast, Satanist, fly on every wall, Neurotic Nihilist, erratic eccentrically ecclectic egoist... really they all fall under one or two of the same words mentioned in the brief list. I would however scribe that as much and in spite of writing the aforementioned dissertation of Warning mainly in referendum to myself, and with Emil Cioran's concept of solipsism and projection, I didn't quite wholly consider it all to that end. Such is rather a unique bit, given I would prescribe myself as highly aware and understanding of my own being; crediting it in a large way similarly to Patrick Bateman's obsession with music as a conduit where I myself find a common ground in introspective information with media. Rare it is that I don't have some sort of CD spinning on my stereo (which currently docks the 2005 album from Mindless Self Indulgence, You'll Rebel To Anything as I write/type this up) or coming into my brain at the highest possible volume through bluetooth connected headphones; blazing through hundreds of thousands of hours of tracks and various interviews and podcasts on innumerable topics which inevitably intersect at some odd end or another; or watching film after film and reading book after essay after article both physically and digitally. I've been across the country: from Tucson to Chicago, to Arizona then the Windy City again and again; through tornado alley through and with liaisons in Montana, finding myself on the border of Washington state, then again to the dry desert heat. To There And Back Again by plane, train and automobile— using a pointed reference at the start of this sentence as it is the second title of JRR Tolkien's book The Hobbit (or in his incredibly crafted mythology, book by the hairy footed halfling who travelled to The Lonely Mountain), and in Peter Jackson's screen adaptation of the work where Gandalf remarks to Bilbo Baggins that, "the world is not in your books or maps, it is out there," as well as prior in this introductory chapter and in both book and movie in his introduction in greeting the son of Belladonna Took his name and how, "Gandalf means me."

Going back to the album Warning, it its ninth track Jackass and how it relates to Uncle Rico in the movie Napoleon Dynamite; and the state of stasis in this solipsistic-in-misery/memory verity. Prison is in the mind as good ol' Charlie Manson wisely once noted, as stasis is just that. It's nonsensical to be in this plane of existence where nothing heals or grows in a Great Big White World of what 'used to be' with love for oneself and one another as Marilyn Manson sings.

What spurred as initial inspiration for the dissertation of the album was a remark I made whilst talking to myself in the mirror of a recording phone screen, that Warning is the We Are Chaos of Green Day. I still feel that idea to be true in its statement, however in that it's rather akin to Mechanical Animals as well. The unisex sibling to Antichrist Superstar weaves its web of narratives, and within the fugue of its tales is that of the cold and blank smile from this dissociative being playing playing the suicide king trying to regain a semblance or symbol of soul after the grandiose all-encompassing self-annihilation and new beginning in hindsight of The Reflecting God. With that however and like in the single The Long Hard Road Out of Hell, it's essentially and (neurotically) nihilistically living fast and dying so too; or more clearly stating my point here by quoting from the recent (at the time of writing and typing this) album ending number Sacrifice of the Mass and movie Oppenheimer:

"The greater the star, the more violent its demise"

Maybe in that it is or was forced attrition in an unconscious as much as conscious manner. Knowingly moreso prior in the wake of devastation and after thought to be escaping from, but everything's eventual— even in evasion. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, onto another pan and more fire following up which makes such likenable to the speech from Macbeth stating:

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury

Signifying nothing

Idiot, overreaching jackass or typical adolescent overextension; Icharus flying too high and believing in never coming down. Peter Pan Syndrome, but in that we have the movie Hook and return to it in that—instinctive drift it would seem; and what truly differs this here from the process of over-intellectualising it which formed Neurotic Nihilism? Not terribly much, I can't help myself but to do so. The real difference is gained further perspective and that all I know is that I don't know, and I find that incredible from the bottom back to the top of the slide into a barrel— a wide open road that's not too fuckin narrow.