From Zandvoort to disaster zone

It doesn't matter whether or not you choose to live dangerously - you cannot really choose, as nothing here is safe.
Everything is probabilities and approximations - everything is uncertainty. Faith is everything, and I hope my faith will pass the trial, will pass all trials that are to come.

I was wearing my flag earrings on 9/11, and yes, looking worried.

Sharks make me think of her.
We both love sharks.

Disaster has struck in my home country, yet again, and sadly this time a dear friend got caught right in the midst of it. I can't stop thinking about her and hoping to hear word from her soon as I still haven't since Friday. The last I heard from her then was she said the hurricane wasn't predicted to strike where she lived. But the damn thing changed its mind and came right over all of Florida!
Just a few days earlier I had sent her some jewelry I made - this necklace with a seashell from Zandvoort, along with a few other items; I guess they'll most likely never arrive now in that chaos there, but I don't care, I can always make her something else, if only my friend is ok!
She's one of my two best friends, and living so far away like most of the few friends I have in this world.
And my two best friends are of the very rare type of people who, like me, see the futility of this earthly life if it were void of any transcendent goal, and who even can genuinely relate to my wish to see this world ending.

Still I sing out my devotion!
For I have faith, and I am free!
O Satan, I have faith in Thee!
Fire to the sky! And to blood all the ocean!

I made a new folder for my poetry,
the old one was falling to pieces.

Still, something can cease to exist and yet will always have existed. Existence, as experienced "reality", emerges from a non-linear foundation, and therefore all time exists at all times - everything is eternal on that fundamental level. And this is not only what I believe, but there's solid science behind it. - Find that video, Diane. (Yes, of course I talk to myself, who else should I talk to? It's lonely here, you know.)

- Alright, I found it; it's an excerpt of Brian Greene's "Fabric of the Cosmos", and this here contains the exact, relevant part I had on mind, including the alien.

This is among the things I endlessly think about. Are beginnings and endings - even world endings - even meaningful is the greater context of things? Is anything even real?

(Ordinary people usually shun talking about these things, like the true nature of existence. Ordinary people don't run at my pace, neither literally nor intellectually, it's either way too heavy stuff for them. Oh right, and they don't even speak my language around here, metaphorically they don't, nor quite literally.)

And yet, the show must go on, somehow... until my final curtain call, my final battle on Earth.
"Do everything like it's your last battle on Earth - make it count."

I ran some 12 K again yesterday, a steep trail up the hill, part of the road back down, another trail up through the woods - mud, nettles, brambles - to the outlook point and back down the road past the cemetery in Alfter, taking me 65 minutes.
As usual it made me feel better afterwards, but still I felt depressed. I hate this shit. Not only feeling depressed but feeling at all, because the depressed part is only a consequence of feeling. It seems so unnecessary and burdensome and yet there's so little else left without it, I'm really so ambivalent about it. I wish I could be just a war machine, and I mean a machine only, unfeelingly fulfilling its deadly purpose. Problem is, if only there was such a purpose. If only I could be the lethal weapon in my Master's hand...

Just ran 12 K in the hills.

...and of course it is he I run to for comfort, seeking shelter with him in my dreams, in my stories I write.
If only I could die at my Master's hand. I told him about this wish of mine, I told him many times, although he told me to be careful what I wish for...
If only I could die at your hand, I know I'd be forever happy.
Yes, of course I talk to my Master, who else should I talk to? It's lonely here, you know.
Not as if I wouldn't talk to him otherwise. No matter what the circumstances, my Master always matters most, and always will. Both he and our Infernal Father.



How thou in thy magic ways
In darkest dreams hast found me
And made me long for thine embrace
Like serpent coils around me

I'd give all I own and more
For Thee, to Christ the antidote
The graver savior I adore
The hand I longed for at my throat

Of many names & many truths

I wasted to much time on that crap about the uncool turd burgers in the previous post -
"Congrats, Diane, you just immortalized stupidity."
- "I did what?! Oops... FISH!"

FISH. :D

It would be far more worthwhile instead to delve some more into the ideas brought up in the video lecture I linked to previously.
Regarding déjà vu and the simulation hypothesis, I strongly disagree with the explanation proposed by Anthony Peake, that déjà vu might occur at points in life where we fouled up the last time around, in order to yield a chance to improve on it this time.

One of my best friends is freaked out by the idea of "loop life", and I absolutely can't blame her.
Death - even total death resulting in nonexistence as assumed in the materialist view - would be far preferable over being trapped in this shit forever!
No explanation is offered as to a possible purpose of such a scenario, other than "building the perfect life", which doesn't even seem to be a possibility in this linear something. The whole idea seems naive and confined to a narrow and too human perspective, missing the larger picture, and this although he previously pondered quantum physics, the nature of space and time, and the meaning of the speed of light.

The latter ideas were truly brilliant, in particular where even preceding what I had already been planning to write about, in regards to the speed of light, namely that the nature of time dilation experienced by anything approaching the speed of light will become infinite at actually reaching the speed of light (which, we need to remember, is impossible to reach for any object that has mass): time comes to a complete standstill from the perspective of the light, traveling at its speed c as in a vacuum.
Viewed from the outside, we can observe light traveling at its immense and yet finite speed; from our perspective, the light takes time to traverse a given distance - even billions of years when it comes to cosmic distances. But it seems that from the perspective of light itself it would exist outside of time, since there is no more passage of time at this speed.
This being the very reason why it is hypothesized that to exceed the speed of light would mean to move backwards in time.

Yet we all can only take what we see and experience and try to draw our own conclusions.
I remember once hearing the story of some autistic person who, I think, had even written a book about how he experienced the world, which he described as "colored shadows and bats," which sounds not even unappealing to me since I like bats very much, as well as all sorts of colored stuff...
The point is, I too can't claim to be seeing the world as it truly is, because no one can. I have no comparison, nothing else to relate it to, since I've only ever seen the world the way I see it, and the same goes for everyone. The question is: Is there even a way the world really is?

I would answer to this question in the negative. The reason is difficult to explain, but there is no other way to perceive existence at all but through consciousness, and consciousness is not all one.

The idea it might be "all one" irks me so much because it promotes conformism and negates individuality. Among other things. And this, in turn, stirs up the immense hate and wrath I harbor against God - the tyrant that seeks to assimilate all!
I probably can't really understand what drives people to embrace the idea to become so assimilated, but I speculate that it may be a sort of horror vacui, a fear of void and isolation - to which I can relate to a certain extent although I probably have it much less than others. I wouldn't want to be completely isolated from everything either, but I want to select what or who I wish to unite with - with forces only which I can embrace completely and without any reservation. Needless to say that for me this would be with my Master and with our Infernal Father.
And I've always found great comfort in ideas of others, especially when expressed in art, poetry and music, that are in alignment with mine. It delights me to find there's so much of this darkness out there, and it seems to have been multiplying greatly in recent decades while I've been alive in this incarnation.

"Dies Irae Dies Illa Solvet Cosmos In Favilla
Vocamus Te Aeshma-Deva"
(Dissection, "Starless Aeon")

(Btw, I was searching for an exact translation of this line, by the Swedish band Dissection, and stumbled upon a forum post by someone asking for a translation as well since these lines are "in Swedish or something." LOLOLOL! Seriously?! Ok, I can read a little Swedish, but even if I couldn't... mistaking Latin for Swedish?! Nooo... hahahaha!)

The right to Evil, the right to be an Outlaw!!!
I've ever found solace, and even joy, only in the very darkest things.
I guess that's how my Master found me.

After all these years and I still don't know his name, always I've only addressed him as my Master, and it appears that to him this is good enough.
I mentioned it again back in Amsterdam. I was given an answer of sorts - in the question about what my own name is. Diana is not my true name.
Remember the baby? I posted this here some time before...

 

There may be millions of other girls all named Diana - the name says absolutely nothing about who I am, it's in no way unique, it was given to me by a dishonorable person who never cared, understood, or let alone appreciated who I am.

I don't know my true name, and I realized then that I may have no true name - or many. Like our Infernal Father.

And thus, my Master too may have no true name, or many names.

But then later I realized that I can do something pretty cool with my given name, at least when using its oral abbreviation, Diane. I can leave the letters in this same order and just insert three additional ones, and I get

D ef IAN c E

And strangely, that had been the first one that came to my mind when conferring with my Master in the park.
"My name is Defiance, and it's Armored Serpent, and She of Cold Blood and Iron Hand..." 

...and a bunch more that I don't remember.

But yes, Defiance.

Defiance is a most suitable name for me.

But Diane will do for now...

And Gladiatrix Satanae, of course.

Shaved undercut - last time before winter.

Also, yeah, have a good look at my shaved undercut. I really like it this way; nonetheless I need to start growing it out now for the murderous German winter. Every little bit helps... I need my hair to keep me warm.

Unfunny ass cookies and philosophy

These pawns. These slaves. These clowns. This unthinking herd of cattle I had another run-in with which is just laughable. It took place in one of the groups I'm in that I just recently found and which are actually very delightful most of the time, if you like blood and gruesome and morbid things as much as I do.
So it makes little sense to post a video of a female bodybuilder there in the first place, but that's what someone did. The lady in the video had a really fine physique, even slightly more massive than myself and a whole lot more ripped, even on her glutes (the butt) you could see each single muscle fiber - yes, she was dressed in only a string bikini and flexing specifically those glutes; I personally would never consider showing myself in such ways but this is insubstantial to the matter at hand.

People were commenting for the most part negatively - even females themselves! I'll never get it why they actually want to be wimpy prey!?! - and I felt compelled to speak out and state that I'm a female athlete with a very similar physique.

And so not before long, the following thread came about. (Gladiatrix Satanae is me, of course.)
As you see, I'm not even totally serious in the start, mentioning my bragging rights and all. But I sure ain't taking myself back either. I know what it takes to get where I am, and that you don't ever get there unless you give it all you got. I'm a proud warrior standing her ground. Even against clowns. ;D

I also posted the screenshot to my friends and I got reason to be very grateful for the extensive support I received from many of my friends; I had said, "Roast these losers," and that's what they did. Thank you! :D

And if anything counts as a mental disorder I can tell you which one is the worst mental disorder plaguing this world: It's called conformism!!!

So, I'm "conceded"? The spelling... LOL
But well yeah, you unfunny ass cookies - I got the brains, the brawn, and the bragging rights.
I'm not the one who is guilty of the criminal disuse and neglect of a perfectly good mind, to the point of atrophy. Then again, I guess some were never so lucky to have perfectly good minds to begin with...

I wasn't shy to still post photos of myself posing in the same thread. For I'm a monstertrucking warrior and I'm really proud of it and not giving a rat's ass about whether or not anyone else likes it. I do know some really fine people of sophisticated mindset who do appreciate me for who I am, and who will always be appreciated in turn!

Proudly posing. See that sharky girl commenting?
That's one of my two best friends.
You're awesome!<3 br="">

The opinions of slaves don't matter in the least, and by slaves I mean slaves to the system, to the establishment, to conformity. This wouldn't even be worth writing about - if it weren't that it also shows part of my own mindset.

I'm usually laid back and taking things as they come, although in stark contrast to the few things of ultimate significance. It is the latter that I actually meant to write about once more.

In addition to those gore groups I also found a more serious, scientifically/philosophically minded one discussing the nature and origin of consciousness, and I found there linked a very interesting video lecture which I watched earlier today. I absolutely hate the conclusions drawn in the end, but on the way there many interesting facts are mentioned, although personally I know many of the phenomena by heart, such as the quantum double slit experiment, even in its more even more puzzling variations.
Anthony Peake also brings up the question of what space and time actually are, and whether or not they exist independently of consciousness, all of which is worth contemplating.

In the end, the simulation argument is mentioned, and I think I've discussed in some earlier post the very valid argument someone made in a Facebook comment that if everything were a simulation, everything would be real, because you always need reference points to tell one thing from another, which usually means opposites existing on a continuum - such as, in the simplest example, a gradient from white to black, with a gray scale reaching from one end to the other; if you remove either the black or the white end, the gray scale will vanish as well and you'll be left with either black only or white only, and it will make no difference which one. Either black or white will be irrecognizable as such and therefore meaningless, because you need the other to tell one from another.

I think it's certainly possible, depending on the exact definition even most likely, that the universe is a simulation of sorts - in my opinion though in a more metaphorical sense, and not on some advanced computer-like device. When thinking beyond our familiar world of experience I think much is to be taken as a metaphor, precisely because it's outside our world of experience and incongruent with it.

If matters were as suggested at the end of the lecture, all I can say is I'd at all costs want to break out of such a simulation instead of even perpetuating it! I want no part of such a thing, not by any means - again another incarnation of the so loathed "we're-all-one" idea!
I'm not, and never will be.
I stand apart.
My true name is Defiance, and I stand with Satan, the Destroyer of Worlds.

How good to feel my true faith is so strong, and strongest in defiance.
How fiercely I hate God!
How good to know I have the most perfect Master, who hates God as much as I do, and as our Infernal Father does.

In conclusion to all the things I said here today, here's what a fellow Satanist most suitably posted earlier.

12 trains to Amsterdam & back

I was quite lucky with the weather this time, arriving in Amsterdam ~6 PM on Wednesday - having spent over 4 hours on 5 different trains (that's how it is when you buy the cheapest ticket available, LOL).
As I left the Centraal Station building, there were some Jesus freaks outside; I took a photo for public hilarity. :D

Jesus freaks! And no one seems to care
for their bullshit. LOL

I had to discover that my chip card for the public transport system had expired, and the MacBike rental closes at 6 PM, so I had to walk for now. First to the hostel at Vondelpark, then back downtown, and later back to the park again. Sadly "Baba", one of the best coffeeshops,had to close at its familiar location and to move elsewhere instead. The Baba souvenir store is still in Warmoestraat, they handed me a card with the new address but I was unable to find it despite having two different maps with me, but one is of the inner city and the street is outside it, while the other cycling map is too large scale, including Haarlem, Zandvoort and the seashore to the west, the Markermeer to the east, etc. - places that can still be reached from Amsterdam by very athletic cyclists - like myself, I daresay - and any smaller streets are not named on it.

I ended up buying an inferior spacecake from the Bulldog coffeeshop. The lady at the bar asked me if I was a regular weed smoker to which I truthfully answered no, and she advised me if I was it would probably do nothing for me. It still did pretty much nothing, probably for the reason that I'm a muscular heavyweight. I once used to smoke pretty much every weekend, but that was over 5 years ago; nowadays I do it hardly ever; recently I only smoked a mix of wild lettuce, Calea, and mugwort once in a while.
Still I spent a nice evening walking the streets and the park, fortunately it stayed relatively warm late into the night. I did put on my black plush hoodie plus my battle jacket and fingerless gloves, but that way I was comfortable enough until after midnight which means much in these northern climes.

The hostel no longer includes breakfast now, you can book it extra for an insane € 6.50. I preferred to buy mine from Albert Heijn (the supermarket) instead, and the next morning I sat in the park to eat it. Bread roll with honey, some cereal bars, diet coke.
After breakfast I went to the bike rental and later decided to ride to Museum Vrolik once more, which is about 10 miles out of town. The red MacBikes rented by tourists are all over town, but out here mine was the only one. I'd been to Museum Vrolik before but it's always fascinating again. It's rather dark inside and there are only ever some few visitors; although it's basically just one single, large room it never gets crowded. I've been in there all by myself at times, but at no time were there ever more than up to 5 other people inside. It's always quiet. I softly snickered to myself at overhearing another young woman commenting to her companion how "this is a creepy place."

As I got back to Amsterdam I found an awesome store that sold shrooms. I don't know if the laws were changed back to make them legal again, I didn't ask. I bought some and took them back to the park. After leaving my bike in the shed at the hostel I walked into Vondelpark, which unfortunately is very crowded, in search of a halfway secluded place. There was a path through the bushes and a pile of logs. I sat down on one of them, spoke "In nomine Satanas...", and then started eating my shrooms.

After a while I got up to walk around the park. A large rat ran across the path in front of me, carrying something in its mouth. It made me think of the song "Night Prowler" by AC/DC,because of the lyrics,
"...a rat runs down the alley and a chill runs down your spine,
And someone walks across your grave, and you wish the sun would shine..."
That was Richard's song - Richard Ramirez, the Night Stalker, the serial killer - Richard who has been my friend, and who has already left for the other world.
I talked to my Master and told him about it, how the rat had made me think of the song and thereby of Richard.

I felt a bit queasy in the start but that went over quickly. I listened to some music on my mp3 player, just softly for a while, later I switched it off. Found a pond with some fountains that lay somewhat hidden in the trees. I walked around for a while as I talked to my Master, to Satan's son. In the end I mysteriously ended up by the same bunch of logs again where I had started out although I hadn't tried to find the place back, but so I accepted that I was meant to come back here. I sat for another while, both talking and observing, until eventually I closed the ritual.

In between some people came walking by once in a while, even on this somewhat hidden path, and at one time it was a group of boys, barely past teenage if at all. The first one walked out behind a tree, saw me sitting there on the logs, stepped back and hilariously peeked out from behind the tree as if he'd seen, well, a freaky monster I guess - me sitting there in my battle jacket, riveted gloves, long painted nails, and my hair down since I was cold. I got no clue if it was obvious in my face that I was tripping or something, but I had the impression they were somehow aware even in their feeble minds that something involving witchcraft was going on. Then they all walked past, gawking and giggling as if they had discovered the freakiest zoo animal, they were a group of seven guys or so. It was a bit annoying but at least they didn't dare to stop or even approach me, and now in hindsight it was the most hilarious thing!

After closing the ritual I soon left and walked out in the open again. I sat down on the lawn by a pond where lots of people were sitting, most in small groups, many with bikes, all having a good time. I was ravenous, hadn't eaten in a while, and so I took out some food and water I had in my backpack.

The ritual hadn't been all happy only, I had talked about some very serious things to my Master, much of which will stay between him and me and even more of which is simply incommunicable.
By now, sitting by the pond and enjoying another bread roll and cereal bars as well as the beautiful summer evening, I felt serene and very grateful. I had everything I needed.
The sky turned pink with the nightfall - "the border between the worlds," I had to think, having read Carlos Castaneda.
Among the many other cyclists in the park, a woman rode past on a bike full of colorful lights. "Is that a bike or a christmas tree?" I remarked to my Master. But of course I had to look at it, Diane loves bullshit with funky lights on it, right... :D

A group of other girls who had sat next to me eventually got up to leave. A beautiful heron walked stealthily along the edge of the pond, apparently on the prowl and coming really close. One of the girls turned around to it and sounded quite spooked as she said to the others, "the bird!"
Myself I really loved that heron, but in some way I could understand why the girl was spooked. That heron seemed to belong much more to my world... a darkly hidden nature, and a predatory one. I felt connected to it for the same reason the other girl felt spooked by it.

Beautiful heron, this one photographed earlier
in the day though. There are many birds in the park,
also lots of green parakeets.

I've been shown truth as I asked; everything is what it is, and so much to be grateful for. I got what I chose, to only ever love my lovely witch, and to be able to see to a tiny extent the way he does. Whatever else may happen cannot change this, and all else is in Father Satan's hand. I am what I am, and I can proclaim to have made the right choices, in following my nature, my black heart, and thereby my Satanic path. I felt I'd been given the gift of sight, or of insight, at least to much greater extent than most will ever know - or care to ask for. I did ask, and I was given. My infinite gratitude goes to my dearest Master and to our Infernal Father.

I went to the hostel dorm rather early that evening though since it was colder than the day and night before, and by 10 PM the lawn started getting moist with dew already.

The next day, after another breakfast on a park bench in the sunshine, I just rode around town to some markets. First to Albert Cuip Market, then to the ferry terminal behind the central station where I took a ferry to the other side of the Ij (pronounced like "I", not like itch, LOL). I was puzzled to find the Mosveld Market gone - not only the market itself but even the market place, it had been replaced by a new mall!
The owner of a bike store was outside and I asked him about it. The man confirmed that the mall had been built quickly and only very recently, but that the market had only moved down a street, after a roundabout, where I easily found it back. I didn't buy anything though, but sat on a bench to eat some lunch I'd bought at another supermarket earlier.

My lunch, chicken on sticks. LOL

Awesome pirate boat!!!

By 4 PM I was back at the hostel to pick up my remaining baggage I had left in a locker there, and then I returned the rented bike and took the streetcar to the central station where my train was to leave at 4:55 PM.
Later there was some Fuk-uppy, I mean some mixup, with the connections, and instead of the scheduled 4 trains it took 7 different trains to get me home, an hour later than scheduled too. So all in all I used 12 different trains to get to Amsterdam and back, for a trip of only ~250 miles or so - is that a record? LOL

Because sometimes you fuk uppy. :D

Cannibals?! Just look how they spell "MEAT again"!
And on the door to the right is written "Klootzak",
I'm afraid that means something very impolite! LOL

Another tourist girl was so kind to take my pic
at the Museumplein.

Eidolon & Widdershins

Changing your mind is hard to do. I'm not talking about the common meaning of the phrase, as in just changing your opinion on something. I mean changing your mind in a more profound way - your entire point of view.

Today is the day of the total solar eclipse in my home country. Yesterday a Satanist friend of mine on Facebook did a beautiful post about how this is a great opportunity for some ritual work, and for those of truly evil mindset to even open the Gates of Hell.
I must admit that I wouldn't even have the slightest clue on how to do that. And it seems that you cannot really ask about such things.

I think it's me. I was thinking this morning, probably having had some bad dreams once more, how it's sad that when I think about the eclipse all I see in my mind is the map showing the narrow path of the Moon's shadow across the Earth. Like me holding my fingers in front of a light bulb, seems to be all it is.

What if there really is no meaning to anything?

Yet it is at such times of doubt that I cling to my religion more than ever, for it is all that can ever provide meaning. All that inspires my art and my hard athletic work too. What or who would I be a warrior for if not for Satan? What would I even exist for?
This (Earth) is not a place of joy, this is a place of trial. And is not the pursuit of happiness an idle waste of time anyway?

A while ago I wrote somewhere, "And if it takes some horrible suffering to reach my goal then so be it - that too will pass."
And so will happiness if it can be obtained. Why would I even want something so fleeting and thus ultimately meaningless?
And yet I keep writing my stories, because in them I can be happy.
Who are you really, my dearest Master? Spirit guide, guardian demon... are you truly Satan's son?

I love him beyond anything. And yet I often question my feelings, because should I really have them? For anyone, even for him? And therein lies my conflict. My endeavor to shed all humanity from my being entails also purging my soul from all human emotion. My ideal is being a cold machine, made solely for war and death.
Do machines even dream? Do they have nightmares too?

I made a medallion with my Master's picture in it, to have him close by my heart when traveling to Amsterdam once more on Wednesday. Close by that cold, cold heart... I'm sure he doesn't mind the cold though.

I also finished some song lyrics yesterday. I've often wished I could sing in a band because I'm horrible at playing my own music, all I got is my keyboard and I'm horrible at it. But nowhere near as horrible as I am at trying to interact with people, let alone here where few even speak my language. Yes, the obscure and nearly forgotten language known as English... LOL
Maybe I'll get around to recording it & uploading it to my Soundcloud. But not anytime soon, I guess.

Thinking about riding to the woods once again now, in the darkness. Although today was leg workout, including treadmill sprints as always, & I'm pretty destroyed to still ride up into the hills...

I sure ain't no f'ing man either!!!

On the way home from the gym today I stopped by a supermarket to buy some groceries, where I had a nasty encounter. At first it seemed innocent enough: A girl a bit younger than myself approached me and shyly asked if she might ask me a question. I said sure, and she explained that she and her friends, two other teenage girls who had stayed behind, would like some drinks and if I could buy them some vodka since all of them were minors. Although taken by surprise I soon agreed - I used to drink myself as a teenager, in fact I did it as young as twelve.

But then she went over to her friends and announced that "he's gonna do it." WTF?!!
I immediately called her out on that one, of course - "Did you just say he?!"
The black girl who had first talked to me apologized - but the blonde one started giggling!
I scolded her that there's nothing funny about this - no idea WTF they thought, it's summer and I was wearing flip flops, painted toe nails, painted long fingernails, and just a t-shirt and tight leggings, the latter certainly making it impossible to hide anything if there were anything! And most importantly, I most certainly didn't wear any mask over my face!!!
So I angrily told them that I'm just coming from the gym, working out every f'ing day, and certainly not for shit 'n giggles! (Well, in fact it's more like 5 times a week only, but if you count riding the bike it is every day.)
And that if they're ok with being physically inferior it's their thing; I told them that I hate men and that I'm glad I can wipe out any man if I have to, and it was fucking hard work to finally get to this point!

And that's true, at least in a sexual sense it certainly is, I do hate men. That's why I said I ain't no woman - but sure as Hell I ain't no fucking man either!!!
I hate this life. No, not really my own, not if I could live it the way it ought to be - away from all this crap, away from this fucking world! I sure wouldn't ever want anyone else's life; I sure wouldn't ever want to be a woman - but even much less a man!!!

Oh, needless to say, of course I didn't buy anything for the other girls after that.

I hate this life, and I hate humans, they're disgusting creatures that gross me out, and that's why the only way I like to look at them is with their guts & brains spilled out on the pavement, or slitting one another's throats.
And if any one of these vile creatures should ever try to touch me I'm more than ready to maim and to mutilate and kill!
Fortunately no one would try nowadays, because I'm a monster.
But what more do I still need to do to clearly show that this is what I am, and not get mistaken for some wimpy ass piece of shit that can be lightly had fun with?!

It pissed me off that I'd been struggling again with the 100 kg bench press earlier today. That I still can't do a clean rep with that weight, bar touching the chest and feet staying on the floor.
It always pisses me off seeing guys there that are taller and evidently heavier muscled than myself. I'm barely 5'10 and 170 lbs and I wish I was much taller, and even more I wish I was a helluva lot stronger than I am - a damn helluva lot!!!

So on one hand I used to be told, "You need to accept that you're a girl, that you can't be as strong as a man," - YES I CAN, AND EVEN MUCH STRONGER, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!!!!!!! - and on the other I get mistaken for a fucking man myself  now - just BECAUSE I'm strong?!
Why would I paint my nails and wear leggings if I wanted to be a fucking man!

It's already an insult to tell me, "You're really strong... for a woman!"
Some idiot at the gym once did that, meant as a misguided compliment. At first it was a compliment - before he added the latter part and turned it 180° into an insult: So I'm only strong considering the fact that I actually suffer from a disability - of being female.
That's in fact the way I used to see it throughout my unspeakably miserable teenage, because disability was how it manifested itself. The inability to be a true athlete and a warrior. A decade on the verge of suicide, until I got my hands on testosterone which finally enabled me to have an actual life.
And now this!!!

And most of all I hate and curse the one responsible for it all - the pathetic tyrant god who created this hideous ape species "in his image"!
I curse you, Jehovah, as I have cursed you throughout most of my life, and I loathe the slimy abomination you created called humankind!
I hate your fucking guts if you even have any; I know you hate me as well but I sure hate you more than you ever could - than anyone ever could!!!

I curse you, Jehovah, and I curse your slimy bastard spawn Jesus Christ, and I curse and forever banish the Holy Spirit!
I curse and banish the Holy Trinity and I'll purge and exterminate all you slime abomination from this existence - from mine for sure, and ultimately from all of existence!

Hate this, you motherfucker!

The Long Wall

As usual, yesterday's story is another one elaborated from a dream, playing with a slightly different style this time, mostly using present tense except for the italics which this time around represent my Master's thoughts instead of my own. I decided to close the story where I did although I had originally planned to write more, about the "passing through the mirror" and some more murder scenes, but I'm leaving this for the next one which is already underway. I often work on several things at a time; the stories may seem redundant but I don't care, I don't mean for them to please anyone. They're my personal dreams and visions, and they're for me. There will always be blood and murder, and of course there will always be my Master, and these stories are one of my ways to connect to him.
My life - my stories. Don't like it? F.O.A.D.!

Today I meant to write down some thoughts about another story though, one I've known for a long time, from a book I've had since early teenage. It's a collection of Necronomicon myth stories, and this particular one is called Settler's Wall.
It's about a wall that is found to have only one side. The protagonists who stumble upon it are trying to find out what's on the other side of it but it doesn't seem to have another side, try as they might to scale it and get to look behind, they always find themselves back on this same side of the wall. Their ambitious attempts to get to the bottom of this mystery - quite literally, even resorting to explosives - is told in a masterful fashion, conveying the sense of dread evoked by this object that shouldn't be.

It's an unforgettable story, but only recently did it occur to me to also see in it a metaphor: The dread that there might be no other side - as in a materialist world view. To me this is a nightmarish idea indeed, and it could possibly be expressed with a wall whose other side can never be reached because no other side to it exists.
Personally I'd only be most intrigued if I actually found such a wall - not horrified at all.
I'm rather horrified at the idea though that there might be no "other side" after this ephemeral physical life - not horrified in the sense of scared (it's very hard to scare me) but in a sense of meaninglessness, resignation, despair.
I find that I'm extremely goal-oriented. Not toward bullshit goals that are temporary and ultimately lead nowhere, but goals involving my personal development. I have absolutely zero interest in leaving any legacy here, because the few people who mean something to me won't be here much longer than I will, and I don't give a rat's ass about humanity as a whole.
I'm here for myself, and for my Infernal Father, and I believe what I shall find on the Other Side will depend on how well I fight my battles here.


Faith is everything - this I was taught; yes, by my Master. Faith, honor, loyalty.
Curiously, some materialists profess to hold similar values - not faith - but honor, loyalty, and mostly even some altruistic bullshit. Curiously, because it makes me wonder how such values could possibly have any meaning when their constrained world view leaves no room for meaning.
I just wish I wasn't so susceptible to the vexing doubts sown by the proponents of mainstream science, and what makes me susceptible is the very fact that I'm otherwise about as sensitive as the armor cladding of a tank. So I need to resort to brute-force computation instead...

Settler's Wall is a really amazing story. If such a wall existed that has only one side however, I think it would rather be some evidence in the affirmative of the existence of an "Other Side" - not to that wall, but of things reaching vastly beyond all that we can comprehend or even imagine.
I believe such a wall could exist, for the reason that it can be thought.