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wolven7"A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: 'Sing for us soon again;' this is as much to say, 'May new sufferings torment your soul.'" -Kierkegaard
House of Pain - [Shamrocks and Shenanigans]--- So, i've been amazed, recently by the way i seem to feed on the pain of others. It's not that i go out of my way to cause it, or that i even particularly Like to see it, but, when it's there, i take great aesthetic comfort in the sight, touch and smell of a tragedy. (Danny Elfman - [Ode to Joy (A Clockwork Orange)]). The eloquence that lends itself to those in pain, to be able to express it, and express it well, and the draped shoulder, mind you, when it's without trying. For you cannot cultivate tragedy, or angst, or any true emotion. If you cultivate it, there is something lost, in its expression; the difference between a wild black rose, and one from a hot house. When you cultivate it, you Seem as if you have cultivated it. When it is a part of your being, Then it is truly beautiful.
And why is pain beautiful? Well... to me, there is something exquisite in suffering... I can't explain it, any more than i could explain why i find certain things funny, or why i almost cried, reading any part in Snow Crash, with the dog... But, on a larger scale? In the broader sense, pain can be made beautiful, so that it may be more easily recognised, and felt by others. The empathy of a beautiful pain is something that simply Has to happen... When the pain is true, and beautiful, it is a very rare person who can Not empathize. (VNV Nation - [Honour]). And, in that empathy, there is solace, and salvation. But that does nothing to say why one could enjoy pain, for pain's sake. Not as sensation, solely, but as Pain... emotional discomfort. Sado-Masochistic, on many levels. Don't mind me.
I'll never cause you pain, if i can help it. But if you ever are in pain, and i seem to take a kind of enjoyment in it, know that this is my nature... And a part of it that i don't particularly care to change.
I've noticed, recently, that people have a very strange tendency. have you ever done the "Which-Way-Am-I-Going" dance? Where you meet a person head on, and decide to go to your right, as they go to their left, and so on? Well, think about this: because of our society, we have the predilection to veer to the right, so why should we ever have to do that dance? (Cake - [Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps]). Because of outside factors, and the fact that people catch the static of our thinking "swerve," and think of it as their own thought, They mirror us, showing that Leibniz was right (*snicker*). Seriously, though, here's an experiment: Swerve to the left, first, and see if they still swerve to the right. (Aphex Twin& Squarepusher - [Vivacid]). Even if you Clearly have moved to the left, before they have the chance to think about their direction, i bet you that over 50% of the people tested will move to their right.
VNV Nation - [Cold]--- It's been happening to me, for the past week.
And that's about all i have to say, about that. Later.
House of Pain - [Shamrocks and Shenanigans]--- So, i've been amazed, recently by the way i seem to feed on the pain of others. It's not that i go out of my way to cause it, or that i even particularly Like to see it, but, when it's there, i take great aesthetic comfort in the sight, touch and smell of a tragedy. (Danny Elfman - [Ode to Joy (A Clockwork Orange)]). The eloquence that lends itself to those in pain, to be able to express it, and express it well, and the draped shoulder, mind you, when it's without trying. For you cannot cultivate tragedy, or angst, or any true emotion. If you cultivate it, there is something lost, in its expression; the difference between a wild black rose, and one from a hot house. When you cultivate it, you Seem as if you have cultivated it. When it is a part of your being, Then it is truly beautiful.
And why is pain beautiful? Well... to me, there is something exquisite in suffering... I can't explain it, any more than i could explain why i find certain things funny, or why i almost cried, reading any part in Snow Crash, with the dog... But, on a larger scale? In the broader sense, pain can be made beautiful, so that it may be more easily recognised, and felt by others. The empathy of a beautiful pain is something that simply Has to happen... When the pain is true, and beautiful, it is a very rare person who can Not empathize. (VNV Nation - [Honour]). And, in that empathy, there is solace, and salvation. But that does nothing to say why one could enjoy pain, for pain's sake. Not as sensation, solely, but as Pain... emotional discomfort. Sado-Masochistic, on many levels. Don't mind me.
I'll never cause you pain, if i can help it. But if you ever are in pain, and i seem to take a kind of enjoyment in it, know that this is my nature... And a part of it that i don't particularly care to change.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've noticed, recently, that people have a very strange tendency. have you ever done the "Which-Way-Am-I-Going" dance? Where you meet a person head on, and decide to go to your right, as they go to their left, and so on? Well, think about this: because of our society, we have the predilection to veer to the right, so why should we ever have to do that dance? (Cake - [Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps]). Because of outside factors, and the fact that people catch the static of our thinking "swerve," and think of it as their own thought, They mirror us, showing that Leibniz was right (*snicker*). Seriously, though, here's an experiment: Swerve to the left, first, and see if they still swerve to the right. (Aphex Twin& Squarepusher - [Vivacid]). Even if you Clearly have moved to the left, before they have the chance to think about their direction, i bet you that over 50% of the people tested will move to their right.
VNV Nation - [Cold]--- It's been happening to me, for the past week.
And that's about all i have to say, about that. Later.
