Rhomboid Fin Blues

The water is so cold your immediate reaction would be jumping back out, shouting some distinct obscenities in a language this part of the world doesn't get to experience that often and digging your feet right back into your boots - but the beach is quiet and unusually sunny today, and you have a mate with you who's way tougher and actually in touch with Nature. You don't wanna look that weak in front of him.

It's up to my knees when I first have to stop and remind myself that I don't believe in monsters anymore. I'm thinking of Binns and Shine, and their predecessor, the guy who was going on about vegetable mats. Burton, I think his name was. Sober thoughts, scientific thoughts, cold hard facts, not as cold as this lake is all year around though, and the body of water in front of me is considerable and knowing its true depth is spookier than any monster tale can be. Still, there's these weird wakes on the surface. Been seeing them for two days now, and I see them right now, closer than ever. Expectancy bias, skeptics call it. If you have your brain tuned to see something unusual here, you will.

A couple of feet behind me on the shore, next to my friend changing into swimming trunks, rests a magnet I bought from Steve Feltham about 15 minutes ago. The man's been living here, right on the beach keeping an eye on the loch for 34 years now. I think I fanboyed out a bit too much, telling him that I've been seeing him in documentaries since the 90s and how cool it is that I finally made it here. "Thank you. Enjoy the sunny weather," he said. Definitely a rarity here, but the water remains cold and unforgiving.

I'm thinking of Witchell now, who demo'd the idea of something similar back in the seventies, and all the names and events I memorized from his book as a kid. James, Dinsdale, Sir Peter S, Mrs. Whyte... not a fan of the Rines crew in retrospect, but I love the scientific name those flipper pics ended up inspiring. Rhombopteryx. Diamond fin. As poetic as zoology can ever hope to be.

My toes are hurting. I don't even remember being this cold, ever. My mate is in the water now, going on about something called the Wim Hof method. Put my ass down, not just feel the cold but experience it and gain control over my body. It's not easy, neck-deep in, I want to scream. Instead I just shiver in silence and run a montage of memories and data in my mind. I'm here, closer than ever to the legend. Imagination running wild, I'm thinking on Watson's level now, kelpies, St. Columba, the close encounters, like that diver, Badger. Shit. I really do not want to think about Badger right now.

"Breathe," my buddy says, showing me the technique. My first attempt is more like a series of coughs and pants. It's a painful, slow process, but soon enough I'm getting it. Control? Not so much. Experience? Defo. I look down, and the water does look like tea, just like the books always say. Yellow, peat-heavy, but also like glistering liquid amber illuminated by sunshine today. My mind finally rests. As I'm staring into the distance, it's not the JAWS theme that starts playing in my head, but Shark Fin Blues by this aussie band The Drones. Eye on the horizon, man, you best not blink. Pitch-perfect lyrics for this moment. I am taking it all in.

Been about 30-odd years, since I've first heard about this place and the obsession was born. This summer will mark the 20th anniversary of me becoming friends with the man sitting next to me. I think we've been talking about doing this trip ever since, and I certainly had dreams about it. Now we've made it, the time is here, on my birthday, we're neck deep in Loch Ness, and although we're both way more cynical about our Fortean interests nowadays, I think I came across something valuable.

Thank you. May your heart always enjoy sunny weather.

April 17, 1988 - August 23, 2009

Lumpenproletariátus (B) One Step Closer To Economic Equilibrium üzenete:

nézd meg youtube-on a tool - vicarius klipjét

Lumpenproletariátus (B) One Step Closer To Economic Equilibrium üzenete:

vicarious

Jawker, walking tall machine gun man üzenete:

watchin' it

Jawker, walking tall machine gun man üzenete:

discovery times, 'ázze'

Jawker, walking tall machine gun man üzenete:

fooking war

Lumpenproletariátus (B) One Step Closer To Economic Equilibrium üzenete:

:D néha télleg nem értem miről beszélsz

And if you see / my / friend,

- egy edgy Vicarious fanvidre klikkeltem véletlenül, annyi volt csak.

Békében, dude.

Party Like it's Entry 25

Everything was subjective. There were only personal apocalypses. Nothing is a cliché when it's happening to you. 

Maisonette blaze is a phrase that warrants to be a band name, though. Or the title of something. One  day, I'll... you know how it goes at this point.

For now, I praise exhaustion. Both meanings. It's the key to being and feeling alive.

Oh, and after all these decades -Phoebe Cates was right. Fuck Christmas.

Promise Carved in Stone

One day I'll be there. One day I'll deliver my congratulations - among other things - in person.

One day, maybe, you'll listen to the third goddamn remake of my Hero's Journey (or is it 'reboot' they call it nowadays? 're-imagining?'), the darkest and edgiest version so far, and believe me when I say I know what you've been through.

One day you'll call me all kinds of things starting with an F and I'll assure you that I have learned the lesson, hopefully not too late.

One day, maybe, you'll forgive me.

I'm thinking of you too.

Odd Quote

 I lead an unusual life, here in my pico mundo, my little world.  

I am at peace.

Ad/just In Case

Thank y'all.

You know who you are.

It's Cool to Hate

Obscure cross-reference time! I fell asleep listening to Ixnay, had a dream with the cast of The Breakfast Club, and came up with this T-shirt design in the morning:

Needless to say, but actually I'm far from hating Ally Sheedy. The freak basket case was easily the best character, and she looked incredibly hot in that 80's goth outfit.

This reminds me, after T-Rez announced the long-awaited return of NIN, I came up with another design. Be careful though, it's full of irony - watch it too long, and your screen might begin to rust...

Shirt templates stolen from here, some of the polaroid frames from here. 

Death and Cigarettes #3

That was bollocks.

Winter's gone, and so is Hellblazer, after 25 years and 300 published issues.

I'm not the world's greatest comic geek; in the recent years I haven't read many titles outside the Vertigo stuff and the occasional Aliens book by Dark Horse, but I was an avid 'blazerite, and even though the recent Peter Milligan run felt like a cheap parody at best, I'm going to miss this series like hell.

The man himself, our anti-hero, John Constantine - Sting-lookalike British arsehole on paper, L.A.-dwelling Keanu Reeves on film - got rebooted as a younger, family-friendly version in his new series (rated T+, with an extremely creative title, although the fandom will always be referring to it as Heckblazer), slipping into convenient continuity not just with his fireball-throwing Dr. Jones rip-off Justice League Dark self, but also the rest of the colorful superhero-y businesses of the mighty DC Universe. Sigh.

You know, the really-really good thing about Hellblazer is, I mean was, that despite all the magical craziness  the hordes of demons and blood-soaked horror, the stories were mainly always about the screwed up life of one guy, a not in any way normal, but relatively average, and relatable guy. At least in comic standards. John didn't have any superpowers. He knew some magic tricks, sure, and was skillful at manipulating the living shit out of any friend or foe, but his only real "gift" was the ability to con himself out of any given situation, masking his fear and way too caring personality with stinging one-liners, that bastard image and masterfully faked self-confidence.

In many ways - many wrong ways too, I must add - this character channeled our everyday lives and fears, serving as both a contemporary symbol and a gambler's guide of working class society, something that Whatever-Man, Dr./Mr. Random, and watered down DCJCs will never achieve.

Am I getting sentimental? Sod it, here's to 25 years of fine reading material, 300 issues, mini-series, and several one-shot specials. I wonder how far Heckblazer will get before the inevitable cancellation.

pixenomorphy #6

(...) the X-File being,

Looking like some kind of blue-green Jackie Chan

with Isabella Rossellini lips (...)

HFS indeed.

Telling Truth, Telling Lies, I Used To Have a Friend

I say it means a lot.

Facts are, the General's first post placed a ticking bomb into my subconscious  and the four trunkbumper's "No Hero" has been randomly popping up again and again on my playlist in the last two weeks. I couldn't help it; this is a topic I usually try to avoid at all costs, but here we go, with a complete post, thought-out, written down, waiting to be published.