Kaiba

In a setting where memories are stored inside a chip people can switch bodies and continue to live on indefinitely. As well as replace memories with new ones that were purchased from other people. Few can take advantage of this because the technology is only accessible to the wealthy.  Sometimes the poor have to sell their memories and even their very own bodies in order make ends meet and hope that one day their family can afford to place their memory chip inside a new body. A girl named Chroniko sells off her body to help her aunt who adopted her after her own mother died. Unfortunately the operation was carried out by a corrupt doctor who decided not to send her chip home to her family (most likely so he could sell her memories). After a turn of events her body becomes inhabited by the protagonist who inserted his memory chip into her "empty" head

In this pivotal scene Chroniko's adoptive mother plays a musical number and remembers all of the times she had together with her family. The performance comes to an abrupt halt as the guilt becomes too much to bear and the realization of what has been taken from her hits her with uncompromising finality. A truly heart wrenching scene made all the more so by the stark contrast of the happy little clavier. I don’t know if I should consider myself fortunate for being able to steel myself against such a scene by donning the armor of an unfeeling brute. In spite of all that this scene has left an everlasting impression on me. 

Because real art should bring people to their knees. 

Sunk into punk

Lately I have taken a liking to the Distillers. Particularly their album “Coral Fang.” My lofty tastes have given me a penchant for the harpsichord and organ. Those sanctifying and revitalizing spirits have become my draughts of choice (d’va;;;;;;;;5, Moi Dix Mois, and Kokuyasou to name a few). So it came as a surprise when the Distillers began to grow on me. Brody Dalle has a voice that seizes you by your very own innards. I can see how it can be mistaken for brash fury but, this is tempered with that dejected defiance made palpable by the best punk music. It is as despondently cathartic as the outpourings of a drunkard singing his laments to an empty alley. I look forward to hearing what the rest of the punk genre is able to provide. 

Happy birthday

Well today I turned thirty. I felt the occasion called for me to write something reflective but why did it have to take this birthday for me to do it? I could just as easily have done so two and a half years ago one evening. The only difference is just the passage of time. It’s not like by the dint of this arbitrary milestone I reached some higher plane of existence. Some feel pressured to justify or vindicate themselves in some fashion to account for any lost time. I divorced myself from such sentimental nonsense, so I am fortunate to not feel pressured to justify my existence to a world that is indifferent to my passing. Why should we even care that we “lost time” when the scope of that concept is limited to just “opportunities that slipped from our fingers” and does not take into account the burdens we inherit from everything we acquire? I will admit, my difficulties and emotionally crippling incompetence could have something to do with me adopting such a nihilistic outlook; it’s easier to forgive yourself when you focus on just how shitty and rigged the game is. At least I am self-aware and honest enough to own up to that possibility.

Despite having a personally vested interest in remaining tepid I decided to cast the house's loaded dice, all in the spirit of today. Knowing that today is just another day like all the ones before it should not interfere with any effort to consolidate my years. Western intellectualism demands that we employ only truth and reason in all things. Well then tell me this. If you explain to a man that is intent on drinking himself to death that his anguish is in reality caused by some sort of serotonergic/dopaminergic dysfunction, damage to the hippocampus, or a problem with his brain’s reward center, is that going to really lift his spirits? To be fair, it could set him on the right direction to getting the right medical help he needs. The point though is to illustrate that it is not just a question of truth but what we really need to persist in life. The placebo effect is a powerful enough force that pharmacological studies must always take it into account. It is the power of belief that drives men to obstinately push forward in the face of futility. That and an effective use of neurotransmitters.

So I started remembering why I originally set out to pursue a degree in electrical engineering. It was all because of Ghost in the Shell. I want to help make cyborgs a reality. Maybe even make an army of them and bring this world to its knees. Despite being forced to acknowledge that I lack the talent and working memory to become a contributing force I have no choice but to push forward. I started this madness, I might as well see it through to the bitter end. It would seem that all I am capable of bringing to the table is just hopeless obstinance and grim determination.  

So all in all happy birthday to me. 

A sick ass group that has become a mainstay of mine. Some Symphony of the Night level badassery.

Another ominously riveting performance from the group D'va;;;;;;;;;;;5 The main artist -45, earns my profuse praise for employing the use of hallowed chamber vocals and an organ that moves with the undeterred might of a condemned conscript resolved to make his last moments worthy of legend. All of which work in concert to plumb the depths of your viscera to unearth and revitalize the formidably obstinate and resolute dignity that is buried underneath a crippling heap of lost moments. That would be the very best way I can characterize his music. For such a long while a worthy comparison has eluded me. I am content to have finally found it.

The Hikokkomori of the Opera

The first day of freedom that I have earned by successfully completing a semester of school is spent by submerging myself in the abjectly alleviating isolation which has never failed to mend my bones.

In the small confines of my room I feel most at peace. This self imposed incarceration is anything but when my tea is complemented with everything the Internet has to offer. Books from my Nook, the science articles I read from, meditation, my varied taste in music, and Japanese anime can keep me embroiled for hours. Before I know it the day has slipped from my fingers.

The only worry I have is that my time spent in isolation might leave me regretting that I never truly lived my life. Then again, what does it truly mean to live a life and why should we do so according to some romanticized ideal that is propagated by the unquestioning likes of us? Whether we feel fulfilled scaling mount everest or binging on an anime marathon, all that matters is that it fulfilled the same need.

Our incessant need to validate the small part we play in this indifferently chaotic world never fails to make us regret the road we did not travel.

Listening to Elfen Lied's Lilium is what prompted me to write another one of the chilling reflective pieces that you are all so fond of reading. I know it has been quite some time since I last blogged. I could blame school but that would not be sufficient. I could just as easily have set aside some time to continue writing but it would seem that I value meandering the vast expanse of cyberspace more than being consistent with my blog.

For the sake of my mortal soul I must devote myself to my blog because writing soothes my spirit in ways that my hermetic indulgences cannot. Like a coquettish courtesan who is as dexterous with applying Tiger Balm as she is with applying the rest of her charms. No, the solace I take from writing has a quiet and gentle dignity that cannot be compared to something so vulgar. I will let you know when an apt metaphor comes to me.

It all began with Xenosaga

"Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone. . ." To think it was Xenosaga Episode I: Der Wille zur Macht, a Japanese video game, which originally exposed me to that quote. It truly does illustrate the finer points of learning scripture. Irrespective of what theological position you may hold, those finer points remain undulled. Even Friedrich Nietzsche had aspirations of becoming a priest throughout his entire early life. 

Come to think of it, it was that game which sparked my love of Nietzsche. It all began after I looked into where the second half of its title came from. I should play it again whenever I have the opportunity. We all need to return to our roots from time to time lest we lose grip of what we are. I just need to find the patience for JRPGs again lol.

This makes me question if there is any genuine need for us to exhume our past. Aside from appeasing the sentimental whimsy that escalates with age. The flow of time continuously erodes our essence. Why should we make the attempt to recapture moments that have long drifted away from us? I guess that is a question that I will have to present to Marcel Proust or even better, a neuroscientist lol. 

I suspect this is where my abysmal memory comes from. A side affect of relegating my waking moments to the crumpled up scrawls of a failed novella.

Here is my favorite scene from Xenosaga.