Category Archives: literature

literature, quotes, religion

>Prayin’ hard – Jim Goad

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“Let me get this straight – your religion preaches that two thousand years ago, a Middle Eastern virgin was impregnated by a ghost. And the spawn of this ethereal sperm grew up to walk on water and multiply bread loves and heal the sick and raise the dead and cast out literal demons. And this Love Child wasn’t just any ordinary spud, it was God incarnate who willingly submitted to a bloody S&M crucifiction to pay for OUR sins, when it would have been much easier (and less messy) if He’d merely made us sin-proof in the first place. And this Miracle Baby, son of a (cough) virgin, rose from the dead after three days and now gets very upset when heavy metal musicians slander His name. And Moses parted the Red Sea, Noah had an ark, God rained frogs on Egypt, and Joshua made the sun stand still. And even though Adam and Eve only gave birth to two boys (one of whom killed the other), the human race somehow fruitfully multiplied while avoiding the sin of incest. And remote Polynesian islanders will boil in molten lava eternally if they don’t embrace the gospel, even if they’ve never had a chance to hear the gospel. And the God who gave you a weenie will also zap you with a lightning bolt if thou darest toucheth the weenie which he didst create.
Is that it? Did I miss anything? Is this the horseshit you’re trying to peddle me? That’s not the Greatest Story Ever Told, it’s the craziest. And you tell me perhaps a third of the people on earth believe this fairy tale? Many of them are willing to kill or die for it? That’s frightening. You’re sure this isn’t some sort of sci-fi novel or supermarket-tabloid conspiracy theory?”

Jim Goad, The Redneck Manifesto

literature, philosophy, quotes, religion

>…show me a man who is good…

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This quote is from one of the greatest works I know, Les Chants de Maldoror, The Songs of Maldoror, by Lautréamont, written between 1868-1869.

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Throughout my life, I have seen narrow-shouldered men, without a single exception, committing innumerable stupid acts, brutalizing their fellows and perverting souls by all means. They call the motive for their actions fame. Seeing these spectacles, I wanted to laugh like the others but I found that strange imitation impossible. I took a knife with a sharp steel cutting-edge on its blade and I slit my flesh where the lips join. For a moment I believed I had achieved my object. I looked in a mirror at this mouth disfigured by an act of my own will. It was a mistake! The blood flowing from the two wounds prevented me from discerning whether the laugh really was the same as others’. But after comparing them for a few moments I saw clearly that my laugh did not resemble that of human beings, i.e. I was not laughing at all. I have seen men, ugly men with their eyes sunk in dark sockets, surpassing the hardness of rock, the rigidity of cast steel, the insolence of youth, the senseless rage of criminals, the falseness of the hypocrite, the most extraordinary actors, the strenght of character of priests, beings whose real character is the most impenetrable, colder than anything else in heaven or on earth; I have seen them wearing out moralists who have attempted to discover their heart, and seen them bring upon themselves implacable anger from on high. I have seen them all now, the strongest fist raised towards heaven, like a child already disobedient towards its mother, probably incited by some spirit from hell, eyes full of the bitterest remorse, but at the same time of hatred: glacially silent, not daring to utter the vast ungrateful meditations hidden in their breasts, because those meditations were so full of injustice and horror; I have seen them grieve the God of mercy in his compassion; and again at every moment of the day, from their earliest childhood right up to the end of their old age, I have seen them uttering unbelievable anathemata, void of all common sense, against everything which breathes, against themselves, and against Providence; prostituting women and children, thus dishonouring the parts of the body consecrated to modesty. Then, the waters of the seas rise up, engulfing ships in their bottomless depths; hurricanes and earthquakes level houses; plague and all kinds of disease decimate families. But men do not realize this. I have seen them blushing, or turning pale for shame at their conduct on this earth – rarely. Tempests, sisters of hurricanes; bluish firmament, whose beauty I refuse to acknowledge; hypocritical sea, image of my own heart; earth, who hold mysteries hidden in your breast; the whole universe; God, who created it with such magnificence, it is thee I invoke: show me a man who is good… But at the same time increase my strenght tenfold: for at the sight of such a monster, I may die of astonishment: men have died of less.

literature

>Eldreomsorgen i Øvre Kågedalen

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>Owners and readers of the paper edition of Ny Moral will probably recognize the cover illustration of the Norwegian translation of Nikanor Teratologen’s fantastic text Äldreomsorgen i Övre Kågedalen (2007, Damm Förlag (originally published by Norstedts Förlag 1992)). Yes indeed, it’s Andreas Kalliaridis’ awesome art right there, which he made exclusively for Ny Moral back in 2004. Happy time!
I consider Äldreomsorgen i Övre Kågedalen to be one of the very best Swedish books ever written, and now when it’s available in Norwegian translated by Stig Sæterbakken… wow, that’s just amazing. “Perleporten skal knuses!”
Go get it here. The Swedish version can be found here.

literature, politics, quotes

>The redneck speaks

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Jim Goad writes a great deal about racism and pride in The Redneck Manifesto. Of course, it’s a great deal of fun since Goad is a funny guy, but there’s also a great deal of truth in what he says and I think it’s about time we realised that. A lot of his ramblings work fine as general truths as well.
Since mainstream media of today tend to hide from the most obvious inconvenient truths, we’re forced to find reliable information from other sources. By studying uncensored, clear-thinking individuals who dare to oppose the system we’ve come a long way already.

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The Redneck Manifesto: How Hillbillies, Hicks, and White Trash Became America’s Scapegoats (1997), p. 208-210

“Societies organize themselves around taboos as if they were religious shrines, and racism is currently no-no numero uno. People, especially my Caucasian kith ‘n’ kin, are flush-faced and shamed about race like they used to be about sex. Racism is the new porno, rated Triple Malcolm XXX. But even though people hate to think about it, they can’t seem to stop. The flashing marquee is just too alluring. When you make something supremely untouchable, you lend it a power it wouldn’t ordinarly have. It almost tempts the more malevolent souls among us to shout out dirty words as if we had Tourette’s syndrome.
…
Sensitivity often rises in inverse proportion to logic. Here’s the point that the lunacy has reached. If a black person or a Jew says that white Europeans were involved in the slave trade (which is true), no one’s upset. But if a black or white person says Jews were involved in the slave trade (which is also true), he’s an oven-building anti-Semite. And if a white European male says African warrior kings were involved in the slave trade (which is also true), he’s a bloated racist warthog. Woo-woo, dat’s sensible. Maybe we’ll have equality when we learn to spread the blame around.
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This country’s racial.pride policy has always been separate and unequal. Ethnic pride used to be only for whites. Now it’s only for nonwhites. Black pride, like all hues of pride, isn’t inherently good or bad; it’s how it’s used. What’s sociologically curious is that it’s flourishing a climate where ethnic self-esteem is prohibited for whites. Society seems unequipped to deal with UNILATERAL pride. The moment when white supremacy crashed to the ground, black supremacy seemed to rise from the flames. What is this social mechanism that allows for pride in one group only at the expense of pride in another? Ultimately, I think that ethnic pride is dumb. I take credit only for what I’ve done, not what “my people” have done. Ethnic pride reminds me of flabby sport-fan couch potatoes who feel responsible when their team wins. If I were king, I’d get rid of pride altogether.”

literature

>Stig Sæterbakken and Sauermugg

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>Originally posted April 08, 2007.
Stig Sæterbakken is an interesting author straight out of Norway. Here in Sweden he’s well known for his books Siamesisk and Sauermugg Redux unleashed by Vertigo förlag in 2002 and 2007 respectively. Just recently his norwegian translation of Nikanor Teratologen’s Äldreomsorgen i Övre Kågedalen was released over there.

Sauermugg, one of his projects, has been in development for quite some time, and the latest installment is Stig inviting others to participate in continuing and developing the eternal curse that is Sauermugg. This is what he calls Sauermugg +.
Nikanor Teratologen, Gunnar Blå, Stefan Whilde, Terje Dragseth and Anastasia Wahl are some of the participants. I was asked as well, and I wrote this dark, dystopic, futuristic piece that Sæterbakken published on his homepage. I’m very thankful for that. It was an interesting process writing this kind of stuff and it certainly got my mind going.

art, culture, literature

>American Splendor

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>Originally posted March 24, 2007.


Comics, that’s kids stuff, right?
Well, that’s what I thought as well for quite some time.
As a kid I was kind of obsessed with Spider-Man for some years, but by the time he’d went black I was out there riding my skateboard and listening to records instead. I guess I wasn’t into comics that much after all. I still find Spider-Man among the coolest of superheroes, though. He’s metal, you know, the way he shoots his net making the sign of Satan:


However, I didn’t quite realize that there were “adult” comics (except for the crappy “erotic” shit) until I got hold of some anime movies (which I bought from the drummer in Sator, by the way! This was in 1990…). Those movies made me rediscover comics in a way. But since the style still was that wild and crazy shit it didn’t make any lasting impressions. It was fun for the moment and then forgotten about.

In 2003 I saw American Splendor. Yeah, I’m one of those late losers who discovered Harvey Pekar through that movie. I really loved the film, so I bought Our Cancer Year, one of his and his wife’s comic books that they based the movie upon. And it fucking touched my soul, I tell you!


American Splendor is all about life, death and the things that matters – things and thoughts that at first may seem pointless, but after some consideration may turn into mindbending visions. It did for me.
I spent a lot of time thinking after reading Our Cancer Year, the same kind of thinking that may occur after reading a really thick, good book or seeing a mindfucking movie. I just love the way that a few strokes and a few lines can get your thoughts going.

Ordinary life is pretty complex stuff. That’s probably the best and most accurate summarization ever, even though it’s become quite a tiresome cliché since the movie hit the charts.

Harvey’s life is drawn by a lot of different artists (Our Cancer Year excluded, which is fully drawn by Frank Stack), and that in itself makes this comic really interesting. Here’s just a few examples of how some artists perceive our man:








And of course I identify with Harvey. He’s just an honest and literate guy with a sense for politics and music. Him being a Jew and just being so goddamn tired of the exploitation of the Holocaust is a revelation. This strip is from 1994:


And the cover of The New American Splendor Anthology has the coolest quote:

When I was younger I thought about women constantly… I was always running around looking for a good time… Now I’ve matured, my priorities have changed. I’m aware of what’s really important: CRUSHING MY ENEMIES.

The fact that I discovered American Splendor so late bugs me. I’ve missed so much. Harvey’s been doing his comics since 1976! Bah…

Harvey Pekar – homepage and blog
American Splendor – The movie
A list of some of his comics

Other adult comics that’s touched my soul lately:



literature

>McCarthy’s The Road

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>Originally posted December 07, 2006.

Every now and then you come across a genuine masterpiece. It could be everything from a goddamn silly ice cream (hail Piggelin!) to some amazing album/movie/ painting/whatever. This time, for me, it was a book. It’s a true rarity to find such a masterpiece as The Road by Cormac McCarthy.


Armageddon. The final doom. Post-apocalypse. The sky bleeds ashes, wastelands prevail, all fish and birds are long gone dead and the sun, when it occasionaly shows, is bleak. The world is coming to an end, finally.

In the midst of chaos, confusion and despair we find an unnamed father and his son making their way through this barren earth. They follow the road that leads to the sea. People they meet are only after their flesh. Cannibals in the most vicious sense. The father and son have only themselves to rely on. That and their great love for each other.

Because in spite of all darkness and death, this is a story about love and it’s truly heartbreaking. The amazing composition, the multilayered set-up, the extraordinary prose, is what makes this novel the best book in 2006.

I travel by train for almost two hours every day. That makes for a lot of reading, and I’m thankful for that, because I read The Road in just a couple of days and it completely devoured me. So much pain, so much darkness, yet so much love. Perfect.

As one reader wrote:

“Don’t read this book on an overseas flight. You’ll find yourself, as I did, standing in the back of the cabin weeping.”

When reading The Road I think of demons. I think of Shogun Assassin and I think of classic russian movies like Stalker combined with modern, intellectual remakes of seriously dumb stuff like Bronx Warriors and Mad Max.

And when reading I always have this gut feeling, this dark brooding feeling, that somebody’s gonna make a movie out of this and I’m gonna have great expecations and it’s gonna suck so bad because there’s no way in hell that a movie can make this book justice. No way.

The Road deals with universal themes such as death, human nature and the condition of the world we’re in. It’s classic stuff, and if you know your Bible and shiver with delight when confronted with Old Testament quotes you will enjoy this for sure. This is doomsday reading and the clocks stopped at 1:17… A reference to John 1:17 in the Book of Revelations, they say.

This is the first book I’ve read by Cormac McCarthy. I’m dying to get my hands on his other ones, call in sick, disconnect the phone, shut off the computer and just plunge into darkness once more.

Recommended soundtrack when reading:
Godspeed You Black Emperor