Ancient – Black Funeral

Bring the black box to the altar
Now raise your hands and do the sign
Oh, hail Satan, yes hail Satan
Lay down your swords, the evil star

It’s a black funeral
She was a victim of my coven

Open the black box on the altar
Her blood is still hot, so let it out
Oh hail Satan, yes hail Satan
Now drink it, drink, drink, forget that whore

It’s a black funeral
She was the victim of my coven

Storage Unit: Street Weave | Funeral System

I’m still recuperating from this past weekend; too much cheap whiskey, beer, and hair thrashing. I had a really good time though. Eli, Adam, and Jenn’s band, Street Weave, played their second show on Friday at a friend’s storage unit. Vomit Sawdust, Funeral System, and Grave Ascension also played. Aside from that, it was a pretty tame weekend. This Friday Shot is playing The Brass Mug, so I’ll be scrambling to get out there after work at the end of the week. Shows, shows, shows!

I’m working on trying to figure out what the hell to do with my week off in October.

fuck im exhausted

 

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Being Dead

Lying in the sand dunes of Baritone Bay are the bodies of a middle-aged couple. Celice and Joseph, in their mid-50s and married for more than 30 years, are returning to the seacoast where they met as students. Instead, they are battered to death by a thief with a chunk of granite. Their corpses lie undiscovered and rotting for a week, prey to sand crabs, flies, and gulls. Yet there remains something touching about the scene, with Joseph’s hand curving lightly around his wife’s leg, “quietly resting; flesh on flesh; dead, but not departed yet.” 

From that moment forward, Being Dead becomes less about murder and more about death. Alternating chapters move back in time from the murder in hourly and two-hourly increments. As the narrative moves backward, we see Celice and Joseph make the small decisions about their day that will lead them inexorably towards their own deaths. In other chapters the narrative moves forward. Celice and Joseph are on vacation and nobody misses them until they do not return. Thus, it is six days before their bodies are found. Crace describes in minute detail their gradual return to the land with the help of crabs, birds, and the numerous insects that attack the body and gently and not so gently prepare it for the dust-to-dust phase of death.

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Grim Reaper – See You In Hell

Can I make you an offer? You can’t refuse
I kept my eyes on you ’cause I tell you that you lose
And you can come with me to a place you’ll know so well
And I will take you to the very gates of Hell

See you in Hell my friend
See you in Hell my friend
See you in Hell my friend
I’ll see you in Hell

See you in Hell my friend
See you in Hell my friend
See you in Hell my friend
I’ll see you in Hell, oh yeah, see you in Hell

Your choice’s up then how many sins can be yours
At my kingdom final choice is yours
You can take it any time that you need
Next thing I’ll borrow all you’ve got to do is bleed

See you in Hell my friend
See you in Hell my friend
See you in Hell my friend
I’ll see you in Hell

See you in Hell my friend
See you in Hell my friend
See you in Hell my friend
I’ll see you in Hell, oh yeah

Come with me, I will take you down to the very depths of your soul
And I’ll make you burn
See you, see you in Hell
See you, see you

Can I make you an offer? You can’t refuse
I kept my eyes on you ’cause I tell you that you lose
And you can come with me to a place you’ll know so well
Like I told you at the very gates of Hell

See you in Hell my friend
See you in Hell my friend
See you in Hell my friend
I’ll see you in Hell

See you in Hell
See you in Hell, see you

Rewind, 2013 ∙ 2014 ∙ 2015: Lowry Park Zoo

Every September my work offers free entry plus one to Lowry Park Zoo as an incentive for the donation they give them. I usually take them up on that offer! Last year I didn’t make it, but the previous three years before that I did. Lowry Park Zoo is right around the corner from Stephen’s, so I’m hoping to drag him there over a few weekends next month (if it’s not too miserably hot). Here is a collection of photographs from September’s 2013, 2014, and 2015.

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The Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself

What would it be like to free yourself from limitations and soar beyond your boundaries? What can you do each day to discover inner peace and serenity? The Untethered Soul offers simple yet profound answers to these questions.

Whether this is your first exploration of inner space, or you’ve devoted your life to the inward journey, this book will transform your relationship with yourself and the world around you. You’ll discover what you can do to put an end to the habitual thoughts and emotions that limit your consciousness. By tapping into traditions of meditation and mindfulness, author and spiritual teacher Michael A. Singer shows how the development of consciousness can enable us all to dwell in the present moment and let go of painful thoughts and memories that keep us from achieving happiness and self-realization.

Copublished with the Institute of Noetic Sciences (IONS) The Untethered Soul begins by walking you through your relationship with your thoughts and emotions, helping you uncover the source and fluctuations of your inner energy. It then delves into what you can do to free yourself from the habitual thoughts, emotions, and energy patterns that limit your consciousness. Finally, with perfect clarity, this book opens the door to a life lived in the freedom of your innermost being.

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Candlemass – Solitude

I’m sitting here alone in darkness
Waiting to be free,
Lonely and forlorn I am crying
I long for my time to come
Death means just life
Please let me die in solitude

Hate is my only friend
Pain is my father
Torment is delight to me
Death is my sanctuary
I seek it with pleasure
Please let me die in solitude…

Receive my sacrifice
My lifeblood is exhausted!
No one gave love and understanding
Hear these words,
Vilifiers and pretenders
Please let me die in solitude

Earth to earth
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust

Sitting here alone in darkness
Waiting to be free,
Lonely and forlorn I am crying
I long for my time to come
Death means just life
Please let me die in solitude

Earth to earth
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust

And please let me die in solitude…

Shark Party

Well, I had originally expected to spend the majority of my weekend in but ended up only spending a quiet Friday alone.

My sister, Amy, had invited me out to an event in Ybor on Saturday night, which I planned on doing, but then I heard from my friend, Niki, whom I hadn’t caught up with for close to a year.

Every year she throws a shark party to celebrate shark week, it’s always ridiculous and fun. She and her husband are the most socially outgoing people I know, and her parties are always huge. There had to have been close to 100 people there, and an eclectic group of people they were! All different nationalities, professions and ages, from 20s to 70s.

It was kind of hell for me. I wasn’t in the most social mood and I was really overwhelmed. I ended up finding the quietest nook somewhere along the stairwell and hung out there for awhile. Regretting that I didn’t take more pictures. It was still nice catching up with Niki though; I ended up only spending a couple hours there before heading over to Stephen’s.

Turns out he cut his trip down to Miami short. He was in a car accident on Friday just before he was to head out. Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt, but he totaled the work vehicle when he rear ended a trailer hitch. Then his drummer bailed at the last minute when they told him there wasn’t room for his girlfriend. So Eli had to play drums, which he’d never rehearsed before, and they had no bassist. I’m glad, it still worked out for them though.

CJ, Adam, Meghan, Sheena, and John Carlo ended up getting stuck on the side of the road coming home that night and had to wait until 9am to go buy a spare tire. So that kind of sounded like a nightmare scenario.

Monday night Stephen stopped by on his way home from Plant City. He seemed to have a lot on his mind, it was nice that he opened up and trusted me to listen.

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Rewind, March 2012: Pennsylvania | Grandfather’s Wake

Considering I’ve lost so many memories with my previous journal going to shit, I’ve decided I’ll do some throwback updates of older photoshoots, book reviews, travels, etc. I actually had this one planned to post in my old journal before it went down.

This was back in March of 2012, I went back home to Pennsylvania to visit family while attending my grandfather’s funeral. This is my mother’s father. I wasn’t terribly close to my grandfather but I do remember the times I would visit, he’d help me set up little traps in his backyard to capture chipmunks. I’d feed them walnuts and then let them go afterward, just catching them was the challenge. Most of the time I spent there was with my cousins playing wiffle ball, catching lightening bugs, or generally getting up to no good. My grandmother would always be cooking some Hungarian dish or another; she was always cooking!

My grandfather worked the mines when he was younger and as a result contracted coal workers’ pneumoconiosis, better known as black lung which would eventually kill him. My grandmother came over to America during the war; her parents were killed, she fled, got on a boat and never saw the rest of her siblings again. It was around this time my grandfather met her. She never liked talking about her past, so it’s always been a mystery knowing exactly where she was from. She spoke eight languages and never lost her deep European accent. She always made me giggle when she said “little”, she’d always pronounce it “Lit-Lee”. She died from Merkle cell carcinoma, a very rare skin cancer associated with immunosuppression and UV exposure. She was beautiful, they both were.

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A Mother’s Reckoning: Living in the Aftermath of Tragedy

On April 20, 1999, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold walked into Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado. Over the course of minutes, they would kill twelve students and a teacher and wound twenty-four others before taking their own lives.

For the last sixteen years, Sue Klebold, Dylan’s mother, has lived with the indescribable grief and shame of that day. How could her child, the promising young man she had loved and raised, be responsible for such horror? And how, as his mother, had she not known something was wrong? Were there subtle signs she had missed? What, if anything, could she have done differently?

These are questions that Klebold has grappled with every day since the Columbine tragedy. In A Mother’s Reckoning, she chronicles with unflinching honesty her journey as a mother trying to come to terms with the incomprehensible. In the hope that the insights and understanding she has gained may help other families recognize when a child is in distress, she tells her story in full, drawing upon her personal journals, the videos and writings that Dylan left behind, and on countless interviews with mental health experts.

Filled with hard-won wisdom and compassion, A Mother’s Reckoning is a powerful and haunting book that sheds light on one of the most pressing issues of our time.

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