Hawthorne (Flashforwards)

It occurred in my room back before my soul was tested. In those weeks, I was intrigued by the blonde shocks and lightning flashes of her lust-filled lips breathing, biting, and fucking my face and neck. In a block away from where I lived, I knew she was a trophy and in need to be utilized. That face wasn't being appreciated enough. In a flash, I gave her my number and took her soul from an inadequate mate.

But in the walk to my place, after many weeks (months?) of intense love and passion, it felt like an inevitable funeral that was meant to be a sign of respect for her. I was unable to love, but still did. It was more than lust, and it didn't need to grow beyond that, but it did. In those precious eyes, an innocent affection stared back at me and I couldn't deny the thrill of needing to protect her in a brutal display of truth.

"I can't love. Not right now." It hurt to display those words, but I remembered the tattoo on the back of my right arm, and the imperative need to do what is necessary. She burst into tears, and screamed in my face, as if this didn't hurt me more than her. I think she thought something was wrong with her, which couldn't have been further from the truth. If anything, I would have loved to produce a marriage with her. I didn't think that was possible, after what I lost. But it wasn't time for me to love. I couldn't.

In a burst of instinct and intense emotion, I dropped to a knee and held her hand and implored her to understand that there were things beyond her understanding, and I just couldn't be involved in a romantic relationship in this period of my life. But her insecurities overtook her, I could detect it, and no amount of begging turned what was intended to be a protective break-up into another traumatic episode in my life. Before she left the room, she took a glance back at the love poem taped to my closet door, and angrily tore it before departing into isolation.

On the floor, I tried to decipher what just occurred in the air, this moment in time and space. Since the age of 16, I've tried desperately not to hurt girls and be dear and a knight to a beloved. But it is here, again, another broken girl, bleeding memories and a destroyed dream. It felt necessary to travel into this decision, in her best interest, but yet again - lonely crying girl in the aftermath. In rebirth people transform into something stronger, I just wish there was a way to drain the pain and block it. The destroyed poem on the floor, it occurred to me to just pick it up again, tape it to the wall and line out the Wolfsangel.

This time, at least, it wasn't on a ribcage, across a tattoo dedicated to me. This time at least, I didn't need to stop a suicide. It looks like I'm learning, isolated. A born villain in the end, though. Obviously.

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7 years later, and I'm staring at a music video, preparing myself to meet up with a girl who traveled through half of Oregon to see me. I'm not even turned on. "Just say you remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe." It hurt reminiscing the last drive in Orlando to the airport, holding the hand of the woman intended to be my wife. What was meant to be a death and resurrection show turned out to be a long dragged out death (yet another), but without the resurrection. "Red lips and rosy cheeks," masculine teardrops isolatedly dropping, this time from me, as the blue expansive sky transformed into a infuriated but despondent orange-red incinerating peacefully. "Say you'll see me again."

In the window, I saw my reflection and it looked like a shadow on the other side of a necromantic divination, the soul who refused to die and was forced to see the remaining world transform. In a Portland studio. Like I imagined. "I thought heaven can't help me now." But I put myself together. "Nothing lasts forever."

This girl I am spending tonight with is my lust desire, but I intended on also treating her in an incendiary trend. Ignite a fire within her, to drape her in confidence and inject joy and friendly love into her. It felt fun fucking girls in the past decade, and distracting myself with men and boys, but this was different. It felt intimate, like (ha!) in the beforetime. I wanted her to use me to build her confidence back. I was bewildered how such an incredibly lush and beautiful precious blonde didn't rejoice in her innate sluttiness and sexual tenacity. It was a drag, like a fountain of precious water being stopped by a douchebag or bad situation, I don't know what happened. But as I watched the wilderness and beasts in the video, it occurred to me if the same had happened to me.

It was a pleasant night, and talking with her and traveling downtown and the waterfront inspired me to open a bit, and in her eyes, I could see she liked that. This girl enjoyed tearing me open. Like a predator. In the hotel room, is when I involuntarily turned. It felt vulnerable, unlike other situations in the past few years. This was uncomfortable.

But our bodies spoke, and as we trashed in the bed, the scent in the air took me back to the girl from high school. I was intending to perform a gentle, loving gesture, unlike previous escapades with other people. This time, it was intimate. I looked in her eyes, inhibiting tears internally, and she looked at me warmly and sweetly said,

"you really loved them, didn't you?"

It felt as if for the first time in my life, a person truly believed me, but it wasn't in words, but in my indeliberate body language that spoke on its own.

"Sorry, I was just having some flashbacks...."

"That's okay. Let's make some flashforwards, then."

It was at then that I turned into the other side of relationships, time, and dimensions. Not the previous transforming chapters that I thought were necromantic turning points, but in that sentence, that point in time, that this almost unknown girl said. As I bowed my head to taste her delicious pussy, my heart was content and it was a lively and joyful fun night. The intensity and trauma was off, and like I intended, I was able to make her quiver, ignite, and unleash her sexual confidence. But in pure honesty, in her predatory lustful eyes (the pupils don't lie) I think I was the one being devoured, all in blissful good fun.

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It's my hope she fucked well-mannered handsome guys, perhaps begin a relationship with one, but it finally seemed like I learned to be intimate. In a different time, in a different dimension, we could have been together, but it looks like it was my role within this timeline to ignite and awaken her confidence again. Healing is produced in the most unexpected areas, and I learned that. Debauchery & sexuality are the Devil's realm, and it's fascinating how it proves to be therapeutic.

If heaven isn't going to help me, it won't prevent me from dispatching the call in the shadow of Hawthorne just to let a high school lover know and say "I love you." And it didn't. It won't stop the chants of "HONOR, COURAGE, COMMITMENT" from a bursting guitar screaming in fury. It didn't stop me from taking that girl into my room, and breaking up with her. Drenched in perversion and sin, distractions of lust candy and debauchery, doesn't change the fact that intimacy is found in unlikely circumstances. It doesn't darken and extinguish the light of the inner soul that is known as love. It doesn't matter what they say and it won't deny, and it won't hide - because what this girl said, in that line, is true.

Burials Pt. I (Introduction)

It was in the dark, and I was breathing into the mirror. My reflection began to blur, almost morph, and I knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but regardless, the image scared me. I knew I was turning older, wiser, and into something, someone, else. There’s many benefits that come with age, but unfortunately it is also one step closer to death. I finished my meditation and walked out the door.

There was an urge for me to walk, so I entered into the cold night and the song “A Deep Slow Panic” sent shivers down my spine. The new album by AFI named “Burials” was just recently released and my synchronicity with the theme and content manner was shocking. I needed to go to the Lovecraft bar for some reason. It was like an instinct.

There was something within me that was almost being led by the sky above. The melodies were like liquid electricity, and I had an urge to scream, cut, shout, or fuck. Letting go of counterproductive pride, I texted Alexis back and we spoke for a while. Our conversation shall remain private, but it was highly cathartic. I passed by a freemason building and felt an eery feeling, almost as if the grand architect himself was trying to send me a sign. I brushed the feeling away as a delusion, but then again, to any psychiatrist, spirituality is a delusion.

After I crossed the Hawthorne bridge, I looked up at the large and orange moon and wondered what existed beyond our sensory systems. It’s impossible to know, and there’s many groups of humans that have organized ideas and concepts, but then again, with such method of thinking, the possibilities of what this is all about are endless. Prayer or worship doesn’t accomplish anything, it is merely fierce will. If that’s not a higher power, I don’t know what the fuck is.

I started a conversation with a homeless man at a gas station on route. He was wearing a shirt or pants supporting the Navy and said that it was done out of respect for someone in his family. When I asked how he supported himself, he told me that he goes to a local church and assists in exchange for food. There was shame in me for tolerating “holier than thou” douchebags in my life who exhibit hypocritical behavior that makes them feel superior to this individual, yet cling to their good-guy badge. He wasn’t any part of my responsibility, but I surprised him with a few dollars anyway before stepping away.

Inside the bar I struck an enlightening conversation with the bartender. The room was illuminated by gorgeous and haunting blue and green lights, and there weren’t many people there yet. Fog filled the room lightly, and I could still feel the lifeforce from the night prior. We spoke about Dr. LaVey and I explained to her the concept of a total environment, which is an artificial environment designed to enrapture an individual’s imagination towards a particular concept, whether it be a real or imaginary location, a time period, or a situation. The Lovecraft bar was a portal into another world, you could literally smell it in the air. I have had many good experiences here.

And the best one walked through the door.

As I finished my drink, I looked at the girl next to me and she was talking to the bartender, explaining how this was her first time here, and how much she admired it already. A deep slow panic struck me, and before she had the opportunity to pay for her beverage, I put it on my tab.

And that is how I was introduced to V.

2012

Next month will be my first anniversary in Portland. This was a place I merely imagined about reaching. I never thought I would actually have the power and circumstance to accomplish the fantasy of escaping California and moving here. At one point I had planned to move to Orlando - but that's a different story ending in even more accumulation of bad karma and debt... But I'm here, happier than I've been in all of my life, though it has not been easy.

The past few months I have been dealing with a lot of difficult issues, all necessary for the next journey in which I'm about to embark on. When you leave people behind, it might seem like you won't need to deal with them any longer, but one thing I have discovered is that like scabies, as soon as you think they are gone, you reap the after effects. Wraith. Bereavement. Confusion. Self-doubt and dire mental anguish.

It was very disheartening to be scapegoated for other people's problems, and worse, fighting off theft attempts of your accomplishments and favorite things in life. Guilt, irrational and unwarranted guilt is a fucking monster in disguise that I have been fending off, but now I've reached the understanding that to fight a disease like this you need to meet it at its core.

I laugh in cruel malevolence in seeing psychic vampires be shocked in my new adult independence, firm stance, and self-preservation. Neither they nor I thought I would have this fierce self-love, but "stand your ground" has undoubtedly been the echo of the beginning of 2012. But this year isn't over yet. Time is something which must be molded into the shape you wish to create, because it is spinning and if you don't place your hands on it, it will transform into something new whether you like it or not. So I'm here, ready to create things in my vision and will.

"I think I'm ready." And I am. Confidence will fill the air like a handsome and beautiful cologne. It's the last day of June so today's post is only natural in being the mark and ending of the first half of this year, and inauguration and rise of the second.

This isn't the part where I grow wings - this is the part in where I fucking fly.

Portland, Oregon

It never gets old.

D(E)AD

Burnside Running

One of the most exquisite things I have enjoyed in Portland is my weekly runs from the East side of town to the West. Crossing the Burnside Bridge with a red face, sweaty scalp, and the strong desire to collapse and fall, but utilizing the last ounce of will in me to keep pushing for those last 5 miles, is pure ecstasy to the point in where I consider it somewhat sexual. I'm sure there is a dash of masochism in the mix somewhere, but the real thrill is knowing my limits... and pushing my workout even further.

I consider it to be the truest "will to power", in where literally and physically you are practicing that standard. There's a difference between reading something and understanding it logically, and carnally comprehending something. When my face is covered in sweat, and my heart is burning as if I just swallowed an entire pint of hot sauce, I revel in the pain knowing that it is only making me stronger. The more it hurts, the more I enjoy it, and the healthier I am left at the end of the day.

Weights aren't my favorite thing, they are a shortcut to getting a fit body. You won't see a single dumbbell in Parris Island or San Diego, but instead a complete 12 o'clock alpha male drill instructor screaming into your face to keep doing pushups. I envy that intense motivation, but I'm not a stranger to being without a parental advisor/counselor.

As hard as it is, I have to be my own parent, my own drill instructor, my own enemy. It's difficult to combat your own innate laziness. All too often I look at the people at the gym and am irritated at their smug belief that simply being there is combating laziness. It's not just about keeping a particular standard - it's about propelling yourself forward!

A salute to war, self-violence, and the will to power.

All of the Lights

"ALL OF THE LIGHTS, EVERY NIGHT. ALL OF THE LIGHTS."

My life is an iridescent heaven. It's not so much due to what I acquired, but rather the very fact that I dreamt something and brought it to fruition. I was a child, then a teen, and now an adult. At this very moment I am "in a Portland coffee shop, typing out a new blog post on my computer, and enjoying the sound of gentle delicate rain on the window" and it is not even September.

This is still only the beginning. Very well could I construct a sentence that perfectly outlines what I have to say, but our dear friend Friedrich W. Nietzsche has already articulated it for me...

"Not contentment, but more power; not peace at any price, but war; not virtue, but efficiency... What is good? All that heightens the feeling of power in man, the will to power."

...as has my dark father Dr. LaVey, "Magic: The change in situations or events in accordance with one's will, which would, using normally accepted methods, be unchangeable."

But for now, I breathe in these seconds, the seconds of a foggy afternoon, with damp trees, a gray sky, beautiful women and intelligent men walking down the street, a state more in tune with nature and devoid of commercialism and fame, and a city that welcomed me  like a new friend.

I feel at home.

Upward & Onward

Because other people in the world don't have the same self-awareness to the degree in which I do, I feel responsible to be the best person that I can be in all aspects of my life. The majority of the human herd go about their day blindly, subscribing to whatever their society and immediate social circles (which includes family) asks them to do, whether directly or subliminally. We, "with the eyes to see", even as children, have an extra dash of critical thinking that makes us question things that the masses are too afraid to do so.

The reason why it is so difficult for me to move on from my relationships is not so much out of traces of longing love, but regret in the context of personal development and how I could have went about things differently. A perfectionist, you could say. When I'm with somebody that I love, I'm the best lover, protector, beloved, and supporter that I can be because I chose them and want to give them the affection that they deserve. And as hard as I try, I can't seem to ignore the idiots that roam this planet that treat their significant other with the same amount of care that they would to a dumb drunk broad they met at the pub. I'm no saint, I have done many things in the past that I regret, but it is because of the fact that I contemplate on how I could have went about things differently that I am making some sort of amendment to my mistakes.

It's grotesque how most simply cry to love songs or curse their ex-lover in a phone tantrum without even attempting to see their side of mistakes, or observe the situation from an objective point of view. Pitiful.

My infuriated spite has been a great source of productive energy. It is evident right now - without the Untermenschen dancing around like jackasses, clothed in their parent's money, throwing away their financial aid by smoking pot in front of a donut shop, and crashing their (rather stated, their parent-bought) car every other week, I would have not had the fear of becoming like them, and therefore, will and motivation to accomplish my dream to move to Portland and carve life, instead of letting it carve me.

Under no circumstances am I stating to be elite other than a higher critical thinking ability, but rather that the majority of the world is filled with walking corpses, programmed by religion, government, social conditioning, capitalistic advertisements, society, and they are below, while I, and "those with the eyes to see", rise upward and onward.

Afterlife

"...I just want to thank everybody for being so patient, and bearing with me over these last couple of years, while I figure this shit out."

"After death", "Hereafter", "Next world", the "Other side."

I woke up at noon in the middle of a warm Californian January with intense dread. A relationship gone sour, a job that didn't meet my own standards, I could not attend college, did not have the opportunity to achieve any of my life goals, and I was stuck in California, a place that was no longer a sweet home but a sticky and warm climate of mediocrity and smugness. Despair was the sickening static state of mind that would color itself into my life; I did not think that things could get better.

There wasn't a jolt of excitement or inspiration for me to fuel on, just carcinogic umbilical cords that slowly were killing me and would not let me go. There were all these promises, an upcoming job promotion, a scheduled move to Florida with my then girlfriend, possible financial aid for school, a better social life, but in the end it all turned out to be shit and it's my fault for not trusting my instincts.

None of those plans would make me happy, but because I am my own worst enemy, I felt like that is all I deserved. I forced myself into thinking that the plan of working two jobs and few classes at a local community college was "good luck", that I would receive a higher job promotion because of my skills and knowledge, but instead proved to be a valuable resource for my employers in the static position I was in, forced myself to be with somebody I wasn't happy with because I didn't think I deserved any better, and that California was a land to which I should give allegiance to, despite the fact that it is an overpriced wasteland of delusions of grandeur with a debt that is fatter than its infestation of fake trees, supermarkets, highways, and flip flops.

And of course, I couldn't afford a car so in California that means you don't have much of a social life.

Some people are weak enough to live life passively and allow it to move them wherever the wind blows, but "those with the eyes to see" utilize willpower to carve life into the shape they want. I just needed time to "do my paperwork" if you will. I spent a few more minutes in my bed that morning and made a step-by-step list of things I needed to do in order to get to the place I wanted to be. As my mentor Boyd Rice once said, accomplishing things in life is simple, it's a matter of getting from point A to point B, but most people in the world are too stupid to take the first step.

Viciously in the coming months I attacked all the obstacles in my way. I left my manipulative girlfriend, planned a transfer into a new company with work better related to my future career, looked into better housing with the city I wanted to move into, and planned out a health and fitness plan to improve my overall quality of life. I split my feelings of obligation that I had for my friends in California and decided that the only person I should be entitled to protect is myself, others are grown people and need to make their own accomplishments/mistakes.

As with most things I get a late start on, I end up accomplishing them faster than I thought I would. Am I happy? Hell yes, happier than I have ever been in my entire life. In days in where "of late, it's harder just to go outside" I now cheerfully walk the streets of Northwest Portland and breathe in the refreshing oxygen from the abundant trees, rub my cheek against the colorful flowers reflecting the Summer sun, and flirt with the gorgeous antique homes and buildings.

So as I take a sip of this delicious latte, in my head I make a toast to all those stuck in dark places and wish them hope. Despair is a suffocating smoke that clouds up all thinking, but fight for that fucking little small dash of light in the distance. You may end up reaching it faster than you'd think.

Life, it does get better.

FAVENRIS RISING

"Most of us live our whole lives without any real adventure to call our own. Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around. The fate of destruction is also the joy of rebirth."

Waiting for the End

I'm a couple of hours from leaving California. I have lived here my entire life and been out of state very few times. About two years ago I made the decision to move to Portland, but there were too many things holding me back. Work, relationships, family, obligations. It was as if these things were an umbilical cord holding me back from growing into the person I want to be.

And now I've finally managed to work those piles of paper on my desk and get to the place I want. There wasn't a single person helping me along the way. I don't have parents to pay for my college costs, they don't give me a job at their place of employment, they don't pay my rent or buy me a car. Absolutely everything that I have acquired has been through my own hard work, and I remember feeling frustrated and worried that once I received the fruit of my labor, I wouldn't appreciate it. But I do.

7. Acknowledge the power of magic if you have employed it successfully to obtain your desires. If you deny the power of magic after having called upon it with success, you will lose all you have obtained.

What I'm experiencing is a feeling of incineration into some sort of final stage in my life. It's as if I'm inflamed amongst a languid herd, rising upward and onward. Life is a never ending opportunity to make yourself better.

Portland Calling

My attachment cannot be described in words, much less those on a computer monitor. The fangs of hate and piercing eyes of contempt that I have don't block your radiance from my sight, and I'm excited to call you one of my best friends.




There's no need to cry. "People never really leave us. They always leave a part of them behind." You told me that quote in a very unstable moment in my life, and as my departure is imminent I repeat it to you so you don't feel like you have really lost me.




Like a tattoo on a ribcage, or the back of an arm, imprisonment number stamped on a sleeve, or cuts from trauma engraved, it doesn't matter if it's love or hurt, memories of people stay with you forever, and I'm proud to say that you are a warm place.


Take care of yourself,

- Favenris

A New Beginning

As I walked out of Borders in downtown Palo Alto, I saw an amazingly beautiful girl smoking a cigarette. I asked for one and told her "Thanks, you're a lifesaver." She smiled and I realized what silly thing I said. But right before I left, I also said "And I mean no disrespect, but you're incredibly beautiful." Her facial reaction was to die for. The intense smile, instant blushing, and overall euphoric expression.

My words can be a complete terror that leave you in tears and catatonic huddle, or I can be the most affectionate person you have ever met. It all depends on how you treat me.

Stay with me on this one, it's still on topic. About a month ago I could barely run 3 miles under 30 minutes. And now I can kill those 3 miles in 20 minutes. It's all about improvement. If I can improve physically, what other areas in my life can I sharpen myself into and perfect?

I've made a list, and there are numerous things I'd like to accomplish before September. They won't be posted here, but believe me, they are paid attention to daily.

I have goals. I've had them for quite some time, and although I've had distractions, both emotionally and financially, they don't fade. And I'm going to accomplish them. Nobody that I grew up with ever believed I would raise myself to the level at which I'm at. And although there may be those pussy boys talking tough and having the family support to go to school full-time or to a nice college/university, they will never understand the advantage they hold.

So this is a new beginning for me. I needed to learn how to chill out, enforce my will, and now it's about organizing my tasks. I've learned what makes me happy, something as minuscule as flirting outside of a bookstore, and what makes me unhappy, the guilt and burden of being in a loveless relationship.

These following months will be my bootcamp, my own intense form of training. And when I step into September it will be in a Portland coffee shop, typing out a new blog post on my computer, and enjoying the sound of gentle delicate rain on the window.