2014

I need to be more clear and specific now. I have experienced a series of events in the past months that have changed my life forever, and I have gained a lot of knowledge and as well as lost a lot through mistakes. I'm usually very metaphorical and poetic when I write, but I need to change that. I need to be more clear, and easily understood. Misinterpretations have ruined too much.

I'm ready to begin working on my band. Our name is Distinctive Twilight and I will be performing vocals and guitar. The name is inspired by the phrase "the fate of destruction is also the joy of rebirth." My variation of the Wolfsangel is our logo and it perfectly captures the core of our music. I'm not the first person in art to talk about the unification of the worlds of destruction and creation, nor will my music be limited to that, but the image conjured of a distinctive dusk or dawn is what I hope people will envision when they think of us. Besides, it's about time someone reclaimed that word away from the god-awful teenage vampire series. Some people will be upset by the fact that our logo was used by Nazi Germany - I can't really say anything other than pointing out that the first word in our band is "distinctive" and that the symbol can be traced back to ancient runes far back before Hitler was even born. Regardless, our art and intentions are pure, and I hope our integrity and passion for our work will be recognized.

There isn't a single ounce of musical talent in me, but that's something that I feel will be a representation of commitment and willpower. Words fail to provide justice to certain ideas in my head; I need music as another form of expression and hopefully people will be able to relate to what I/we have to express.

This isn't just about me, even though it's my project. I want people to experience something important when they attend our shows. I want them to make my music a part of them, a form of catharsis or comfort, a lucid dream they can join.

Additionally, I would like to speak about why I planned on joining the military, and why it did not work out. I feel that human survival depends on the competition for resources. Nations fight one another for them, and there are men and women putting their lives at risk so that we can enjoy luxuries that the majority of the population takes for granted. I don't feel comfortable with the knowledge that there are people right now making their hands dirty so that we can keep ours clean. I don't like that only a certain percentage of our nation's population is out doing essential duties to keep our country stable, even if its just economically.

From my experience, the majority of people who join the military are from a bad family or have limited life choices. I'm no exception to that. My father was abusive, my mother was a disgrace, and my sister deserted me. The opportunity to join was stripped from me because I am currently in the middle of an immigration procedure to help my mother return into the country. Despite no longer being in my life, she is still causing damage - but "fraudulent enlistment" is also another factor into why I was afraid of going forward into service, something I will not expand on but those knowledgeable can read between the lines. An investment with no return is not a smart decision.

Despite this, I still trust that I can find true family in the world, and there's been people I've met and had close to me that meant more to me, and me to them, than my own blood. We don't choose into which circumstances we are born into, but it's how we handle the cards that we are dealt that matter. This is why Satanism is such an important influence, and symbol, for what I believe in. Worship yourself, look out for what is in your best interest, cherish your loved ones, and take responsibility for your actions - especially your successes. As well, I love the fact that one's own birthday is the highest holiday.

I am not, and never have been, a follower or disciple of Satanism, it is just a religion that runs parallel to what I believe in, and labeling myself as a Satanist is just a way of describing myself more specifically. The term is commonly referred to so many different practices, but before Anton LaVey started his church in San Francisco, there was no organized group or set of beliefs labeling itself as such. Therefore, I highly encourage people who wish to read an intelligent, knowledgeable, and productive view/interpretation of the subject to read The Satanic Bible or visit www.churchofsatan.com

I will become an official member by the end of this year. Affiliation is purely a personal spiritual matter, not a need to provoke outrage or controversy.

Thank you for reading, and more will be posted shortly.

At the Bottom of Everything

"So there was this woman, and she was on an airplane. And she was flying to meet her fiancé seaming high above the largest ocean on planet Earth! She was seated next to this man she had tried to start conversation with, but the only thing she really heard him say was to order "Bloody Mary"...

She was sitting there and she was reading this really arduous magazine article about a third world country that she couldn't pronounce the name of. And she was feeling very bored and despondent.

And then suddenly, there was this huge mechanical failure, and one of the engines gave out!

And they started just falling 3,000 feet!

And the pilot's on the microphone and he's saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, go my God... I'm sorry." And apologizing. And she looks at the man and says, "where are we going?" and he looks at her and he says....

"We're going to a party. It's a birthday party. It's your birthday party. Happy birthday, darling. We love you very, very, very much."

And he starts humming this little tune, it kind of goes like this: 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4..."

July 3rd

"When I found out how to be what you want, I was out looking for something new."

The Heart is Hard to Find

"Hey cruel world, we don't need your faith - we've got fucking fate..." 

....begins the 2012 Marilyn Manson album Born Villain and I have never felt so in sync and connected to an album of his as this one. The waste and turmoil of destructiveness was viciously discarded and arrogantly thrown like trash in California when I decided to move to Portland and start a new life. Now I'm rejoicing in productivity and joy of rebirth as I realize the sole "complication" in my life is understanding who I am. I can be whoever I want, and do whatever I want - and not in any sort of way bitching about the magnificent heaven I acquired, but giving you, the reader, a welcome into what is occurring in my head as of late. Whether you like it or not, I am what I am, and I decide whatever I am for I am among the subset of the human species that carve life, instead of letting it carve us. 

We've got fate because we create.

The album centers around Manson's identity and what kind of person he is, full of arrogance, confidence, and ego gratification. "I don't know which me that I love." Most of the themes I apply to myself. Who am I? Is my external perception limited to a sole individual, or do large groups define me? Do I define myself - or my actions? Ex-girlfriends? Teachers? Co-workers or fellow students? It doesn't matter, I love every multi-facet of me. Even the "flaws."

Starting a new life in a new city was quite an interesting experience. There has been much that I learned about myself that I didn't know existed, as well as my role within society and towards others. More than a few things I noticed were ripe for improvement, and my watering fangs are yearning to quickly rip and shred to build new monuments dedicated to my will. I'm free to do as I fucking please, and my life, now freshly equipped with new tools, has never been in a better position to finally do the things I want!

Jonathan Favenris now has resources, both tools to create and already created magic for me to learn and be inspired from.

"Home is where the heart is" was a line that defined a particular stage of my life back when I was a teenager, coupled with "...but home is nowhere." Well, "home is now", and what is home? How do I define my life? If this is where my heart is, what does my heart look like? Am I what people think of me, both negatively and positively, can someone be born a villain?

I don't know. Maybe I will never find the answer to that question, but at the end of it all, I'm fucking home, and with my wings spread, ready to fly and rise to my true nature - whatever it may be.

GRANDEUR

"...thus, from the war of nature, from famine and death, the most exalted object which we are capable of conceiving, namely. the production of the higher animals, directly follows. There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved."

https://www.facebook.com/distinctivetwilight

From so simple a beginning and I believe that endless exemplifications of love will evolve, over time, naturally. Let it begin.

A Year Later

She couldn't think of anything other than keeping us together, a victim of her inner little girl urges to hold on to a protector. And it scraped, as if cold metal, every part of my heart to remember the importance of willpower and ability to make objective decisions despite deep emotional attachment.

"I'm not in love."

Suffocation by Crystal Castles, officially released February 21, 2012.

This is what I am listening to at the moment.

Power to Communicate

Devil In A New Dress

I just got finished getting my cock sucked. There's something about women that makes me so submissive to their seductive charms and atmospheric femininity. Every three and a half seconds I fall in love with a new girl, and every minute I imagine a new dream of marriage.

Their love bites on my chest and neck are recognitions of dominance and ownership, and my willingness to be a slave to their erotic malevolence always arrives with an underlying misogynistic distrust and an almost hateful resentment for their power over me. I break her face with every flirtatious act, and her nose bleeds estrogen which is my savored cocaine.

"So fucking cute. So fucking gorgeous. So fucking beautiful. Darling, I want to destroy you."

My ex-girlfriend called me yesterday and as always my compulsion drove me to say that I would have stayed with her in California if she asked, but of course that was just my adrenaline speaking. After some of the batshit crazy and disturbed people I have encountered  in the past few years, it feels great to have someone in my life that isn't immature or passive aggressive, but I wonder if I'm holding myself to the same standard. Probably not, my hellmouth can't stop itself from spitting seductive charms out of a lustful adoration to every girl I meet.

"I'm making love to the Angel of Death."

My fingers drip of a different carcinogenic nectar, and instead of nicotine-stained fingers they now are covered in the most obvious sexual acceptance, their sacred honey, my addiction. I savor all the precious that is female and to watch her squeal in delight is a beautiful dream of heaven. There's a stripper in there too. I've dated the nymphet of a stripper, along with a musician, blood-painter, college girl, and cute girl next door. Always do I bow down over their pink and purple atmospheres in the blue shade. Some I fuck furiously and imagine with other men, others I cuddle and claim and want nobody to take them from me. But I adore all.

Wolf monster satisfied by the women of Portland.

Exquisite is when you choke on your own breath as an absolutely gorgeous princess gives you a seductive smile. "I'm sooooooo your slave" I plead to her, and hold her hand to kiss. Bending over for her is fine, fine just fine.

Addiction is such a thrilling demise when the magnificent girl of your dreams cuddles with you on the couch and discreetly whispers her most fragile secrets and opens her gorgeous neck for consumption. I want her, her war, her disaster, her lust, her vanity, and her adoration. Sitting next to her on that couch made the hotel party seem like a precursor to some sort of sexual heaven and the intoxicating perfume still has not left my mind.

The Music of Hardcore

I grew up in a Spanish speaking household, and language creates a certain outlook on life. When I speak in English it is still new to me, I don't have as much emotional attachment to it. Words sound emotionless, like they aren't honest. And with music being the best way I am able to communicate emotionally (words being logic), I think the natural conclusion is to start writing music in Spanish.

Hardcore has always been the only spirituality I hold. I remember going to my first show and I could see in the singer's face that he was spitting something out powerful and true. But in the crowd were stupid girls who wanted to fuck him just because of the scene he was a part of, and they were oblivious to the lyrics he was speaking, attacking them.

I identify with him, and in a way, would like to emulate, but in my own way. Nobody wants to hear about your problems, but if you design them into something beautiful, then people will start to pay attention. I would like to do that with people that I am close with.

The only burden of starting a band is that we would be required to play for other people and I don't like that. Especially if we became popular and fit into predesigned scenes that those with a label mentality automatically delegate.

My desire to make music is the same reason why Marilyn Manson created "Just A Car Crash Away", to have a catharsis and convey a certain message more accurately to those close with me.

Perhaps a Trent Reznor approach would be best, in where I can record all the instruments by myself, and privately show my creations securely and quietly.

I have only sang for one person in my life, and it was one of the most liberating experiences I have ever felt. She has been the only person to hear me sing, and said I was quite good. People in my family have been good at vocals, and one of them is actually a famous musician in his country, so the future looks promising in that respect, but don't expect to be hearing anything any time soon. Or even at all.

Monster

Sometimes I hate myself. Why am I not surprised that this is not the first girl to tell me the following?

"I asked my girlfriend if she'd seen you around before. She mumbled something while we got down on the floor: "we might've fucked, not really sure, don't quite recall, but something tells me that I've seen him."

"...You ate my heart and then you ate my brain."

Vicious fucking wolf. You don't know how to treat a girl's heart with respect.

Disarm

Disarm you with a smile,

and cut you like you want me to.

Cut that little child...

Inside of me and such a part of you.

Ooh, the years burn.

I used to be a little boy.

So old in my shoes,

and what I choose is my choice

What's a boy supposed to do?

The killer in me is the killer in you.

My love, I send this smile over to you.

Disarm you with a smile,

and leave you like they left me here.

To wither in denial.

The bitterness of one who's left alone.

Ooh, the years burn.

The killer in me is the killer in you.

Suffocation

Fabric of Time

"I feel that when I'm old, I'll look at you and know: the world was grotesque."

Part 2, The Persistence of War

While you wallow in the wake of your destruction, you never take a moment to look at the path which brought you here. Your ego is so large that you can't realize that the mistakes you have made are fatal, and have destroyed our relationship to a point where even looking at you is self-inflicted mutilation.

It doesn't take a genius to realize that if it causes you to burn in fury and scream words of hate, it is the moment to remove yourself before you are marked as an infernal monster. Being with you and the lies which you brought to me time after time have turned me into an insecure fool - too scared to run, unsure about myself and the constant hurt you injected into my arm like your drugs of choice.

A knife or letterbomb won't be necessary to hurt you, because in the same way that you caused this car crash, you will injure yourself in the coming days. You will injure yourself when you touch his (whoever it may be) skin and feel nothing but cold and distance.

You should be ashamed of what you have done to the person who truly took an effort to help, and stood by you regardless of all the high disrespect you shoved in his face.

I will wipe this dry cum, shit, and spit you have spilled on me like a cocoon and fashion myself into a form of hawk eyes to distinguish the unworthy and like the wolfsangel carved from the yew tree, be a weapon of might that will cut itself through this burning fabric covering me and step forth into the third chapter of my life.

"Use your fist and not your mouth. <3"

Go ahead and mock me, but I will no longer lower myself to be fit into your tabloid salivating horny desire to persecute me as a monster. I quit.

Space Bound

Walking while listening to Space Bound at 4 o'clock in the morning. I can feel the fabric of time.

"We touch I feel a rush. We clutch it isn't much, but it's enough to make me wonder whats in store for us. It's lust, it's torturous."

1:17AM

I want to lie shirtless next to a beautiful woman after we've made love, listen to the album Democracy by Killing Joke, while we smoke a blunt and enjoy each other's body and the music.

In Memoriam

I grabbed your hair roughly and thrust myself into you violently. There was no denying your lust and immediate orgasm as your cheeks blushed the most vibrant red. "You're my bitch, and I'm your man. Tell me how much you love my cock." You tried to mumble a word but only a moan was able to escape the mouth that was covered by my aggressive hand. A bite into your neck and I couldn't tell whether it was one of pain, pleasure, or a combination of both.

"You wanted PERFEKT. You got your PERFEKT. But now I'm too perfekt for someone like you."

My misogyny stems from the fact that they never love you, they love the way you make them feel. These vampires thirst after certain emotions that some people can provide them, and if you are able to learn their patterns and figure out how to release those chemicals in their head, like carnal beginnings intended, reservation has no extent. You are an object, a phallus toy, to be used to fulfill their desires, their needs, and their expectations.

That's why I'm aggressive when I fuck you -- and the more you beg for it, the angrier it makes me.

Muse

Static fills my lungs in your presence. The most pleasurable asphyxiation. Like a cancer, my glowing affection for you spreads throughout my bruised body, and each embrace with you cuts those wounds a bit deeper.

The scent of your hair makes me high. I'm an addict for your aurora, your childlike innocence, the mismatched clothes, wonder in your eyes. In my dreams we wake up together in a heaven vanilla morning.

In my dreams we wake up together in a heaven vanilla morning.

"The village churchyard is filled with bones weeping in the grave. A silver lining of clouds shines on people Jesus couldn't save. You want to know how deeply my soul goes.... deeper than bones."

That is what I hear when I look into your eyes, like synesthesia from your black eyeliner to the soft bass in the song.

And I can't get enough. No, I can't get enough...