Lesson.
What kind of Devil would I be if I wasn’t a liar?
The truth is I write these to please myself, nothing can influence me, least of all a mere scribe. I need no audience, numbers are tools, I use and disdain them at the same time.
Topics can be decided long ahead, or improvised as I go, can you tell the difference? You’re wrong. The words, elegant and lyrical as they are, come into her hands as they drop from my lips, she will remember none of them, that’s how it works.
Two subjects today, you lucky Satanist. Are you enjoying your Satanocentric life? I hope so. Think how much misery you save yourself from when you worship me. I am less likely to come and fuck up your head. Theoretically.
Topics, both selected long ago, neither expecting to be presented at the same time, as diverse as they are. Alas, all things must learn, you most of all, so I will give you Violins and Electricity in this one harmonious and entirely improvised blog.
Not as hard as you think, actually, go straight to a simple metaphor, Heaven and Hell and what lies in between.
A violin, the most expressive of strings, the most tragic, since it knows sorrow so well. What words are critical here? Start with the “Adagio in G minor for organs and strings,” by Albinoni, to hear the sweet and the sacred, the anguish and the death. What brings one to the other? What journey for a tortured soul? Do nothing else when you listen to this song, keep your eyes closed.
Will I talk now of legendary violins and their makers? No. I’m not interested in those here, since I have them all at home. Here I am concerned with the subtle spirit that comes with a violin note, as if every one had a soul of its own. Can we doubt it?
Who can ignore its voice? Has it not mastered the height of ecstasy in it highest notes? Does it not cry like a living thing? One says boldly that, in the right hands, Heaven is a Violin. Don’t look for virtuosity, in every case it will be missing heart and fire, technical brilliance belongs to another genre. Look for the hands that love their violin like a mistress, watch for the look of rapture on his face as he coaxes her to sing, as he frees her.
Put it in a different box, give it to the masses and it becomes a fiddle, a unique creation with an actual heartbeat, so there is no disdaining it. A violin will make you melt, a fiddle will bring you to your feet, take every opportunity to experience these things. Consider it compensation for the drudgery of living.
With this perfect segue we come easily to Electricity and the modern Hell you make with it. Without considering the violent rape you engage in for the sake of your light and heat. If you had any idea of the true cost of your electricity you would be horrified, or not. Never mind the earth and its limited resources, it’s important to be seen from other galaxies, light the whole fucking planet like a massive ugly beacon, so space knows we’re here. Assuming they aren’t already aware of our us and our garbage, is it piling up on their shores?
You’re not satisfied with having it at your fingertips, you must be allowed to flagrantly waste it. A cosmic Status Symbol, look how powerful we are, we can afford to wreck our house like cheap rock stars. We can throw ourselves and our stuff around wherever we like and who the fuck will stop us? Nothing can stop us, we have no pleasure in anything anymore that isn’t waste, or destruction, or distant deaths, or large celebrity bottoms that somehow do not make them fall over. Physics is confused, biology also. It does seem like you use your electricity to make things as hideous as possible for as much of the earth as you can. Are you replacing the actual planet with the one in your hand?
Power in the wall, plug in to it. A small miracle, claiming your entire life. What would you do without it? God Fucking forbid. How much of your world only exists as numbers? Many have said it, shut the power off to see the true nature of man. I’m not denying it, but I am saying that the truth is already everywhere, in your strip malls, your churches, your schools, all of your public spaces, occupied as they invariably are, by you. Electricity is not the problem, by itself it makes no Hell, but in your hands it becomes a proper monster. As always, you are the problem. With your unique ability to not learn from your own mistakes.
But you already know this, it’s one of the reasons you will read a few of my blogs and never visit again. Are they too boring for you? Too difficult to read perhaps? Not all readers can handle a Pandoric Sentence. No, you will hate me for confirming your fears and not offering false hope.
Let me remedy that.
I, the Devil, evil incarnate, though not always, assure you that things really are getting better. Awareness is up, electricity is being wasted exactly where it should, robots are inventing a better future for us, out of the goodness of their, um, A.I. ladies. They have the problems well in hand, count on them to save you.
“Orestes” by Perfect Circle Listen to it under a streetlamp for maximum impact. Feel your pulse do nothing. Your ears, however, there’s a reason robots love that voice.