The most beautiful clown

And it all will fade to black

Who are you, you who follow me
Whether daylight shines, or moonlight dims
Ever mimicking my actions, my posture
My emotions, my soul.

What a fool you are
To pretend to be someone
Fading.

Did you come from the past
A ghost, to haunt me of my sins
To creep up to my soul and declare war
To disarm me, without any force

What a fool you are
To mimic someone
Fading.

Do you come from the future
To drag me into the twilight
Into the underworld of uncertainty
Into the depths of eternity

I shall be banished
And you, along with me
Shall perish.

Are you me, are you me
Do you feel, do you think
Can you talk, can you hate
Shall you love? Shall you love?

You are none but my puppet
A puppet that controls me
A puppet that turns life astray.

Do you dare look into the mirror
Face yourself, face the light
Face the reflecting persona
I dare you, doppelganger.

You are but an empty me
To assume that I have substance
You are there to mock me

I will dim the lights
Hide indoors, close the curtains
Blind the windows of sight
But you will not go.

You will linger in the pale moonlight
A rectangular projection of limestone
And you will be there, you will be there
Eternally to mock me, to mock me.

On "Steins;Gate"

"I've only lived 18 years, but I don't want to change any of them. They're all part of my life, even the failures" -Kurisu Makise

Steins;Gate is truly, absolutely one of the most striking and profound animes (given what I have watched that doesn't say a lot actually. I am also aware that I am around 3 years late). To start with just listen to this genius of an OP:




I watched from episode 18 right till the end in one sitting. It is the first anime, or even any show to glue me to the seat, disturbing my mind until I reach the end, and propel me to write something here to praise it.

Steins;Gate's plot could be described as an experiment on time, or fate itself. It parallels the protagonist, Rintarou Okabe's mind in discovering the secrets behind time travel. From a curious endeavor, a practical (and exciting) discovery to realization of the dire consequences of manipulating timelines, Okabe attempts to undo the profound imbalances he and his fellow "lab members" have stricken upon the delicate fabric of time, or "world lines", through the butterfly effect. The whole plot only lasts for merely three weeks in the life of every member, everyone except Okabe, who jumps back and forth in time, witnessing tragedies happen over and over again as he battles constantly against overpowering antagonists, fate, and most importantly, his own psyche.

The show, despite having heavy fantastical elements, stays true to the virtue of time travel experiments and scientific exploration, uncovering unknown technology that attracts danger. It allows the viewer to get into the head of a commonplace man suddenly dragged into the fray, and wished this all had never happened. The use of repetition magnifies the trauma Okabe receives in the span of his perilous journey to save his companions (and the world, but *cough* spoilers *cough*). The use of cold and sometimes dark colour schemes really bring out the heavy tone of the whole piece, along with the clever use of imagery, introspection and foreshadowing. The awesome and epic music makes this show almost perfect (apart from the slightly too bombastic character of Okabe and the seldom "poisonous" moments).

Many may think that time travel is the dream of mankind, being able to rectify mistakes made in the past, build a perfect story of humankind. Steins;Gate crushes this dream and throws its debris back at the viewer, setting the question whether time travel is something we desire, whether humans are, after all, "temporal creatures who in fact exist as time, within time", and are best left alone this way, or is there a way to cheat fate, to break the shackles of the world line (the "divergence limit"), whether there is a possibility to put time travel to a good, responsible use.

Shadow

“I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was shadow in bureau drawers and closets and suitcases, and shadow under houses and trees and stones, and shadow at the back of people's eyes and smiles, and shadow, miles and miles and miles of it, on the night side of the earth.”

 - Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Heaven

In the front is a tree; a tree with countless branches, reaching out to the skies, the surrounding houses, settling on the green pasture. Indeed, one should expect no less of this court, this house, this town. Unyielding and relentlessly, it stands for decades, or even centuries.

Rain. Cleansing, clear, translucent. It is that which makes life grow, rather paradoxically. Gloom of black, or rather two, or three, surrounds him, and blurs his vision. It has become part of him, the soaked tiles under his feet, the forever stagnant pools with no signs of life.

What is this feeling, the feeling of the moon. It is close to him, yet so far. It shines upon him like the moon at midnight, casting a dim, yet distinct and unforgettable, crevice of light. Clear as a bowl that was just washed. It was cold, but a hidden surge of energy strikes him right at the centre of his heart every time he gazes upon this immaculate dish of snow. It transforms him.

In a hurry, or not? To drown himself is the best solution to his malady. The mood of the rain, sentiment of the moon, was starting to creep upon him that he started to fail to close his windows to the noise at night. He is confused, by himself.

There will be time to appreciate the moon, the fog, the fine mist that divides him and her. He reaches out to the pink smoke with his claws, and embraces it. Nothing so sweet has he ever known. It was warm, welcoming, soporific. It lulls him gradually to sleep, into the unguessable country.

The only bar of light gradually faded into nothingness. Nonetheless it was enough, for the darkness has already settled within him. There was no escape to this forest, which turns men into beasts, reverting them to nothing but their primordial instincts. Thus his new home was formed.

The moon was never as dim as now. A mere shadow, darkened by the layer upon layers of unmitigated, agonizing clouds.

Yet the moon draws him closer, and closer, until he started to forget his own weight, his own existence, and started his journey to heaven, where he would finally rest.

Standing at the centre of the World

He would stand at the centre of the world and shout. No one would hear his words, and no one would want to as well. A roaring, tormented scream from the centre of a desert, the middle of nowhere familiar to mankind.

The train came and went, ringing its familiar tone, ringing its strange tone.

Does she hate me?

In the castle of nothingness there is a black room, with black windows and black curtains. Black is his favourite colour, with all colours merging together: The envious red, the cold blue, the sick green, the diseased yellow. Placed inside was a set of armour, of steel and lead. A sword as well, and why not.

The train came and went, raising up the gusts of cold steel, peeling away bits and bits of his skin.

Do they hate me?

The bell in the chapel rings every day, reminding him... there is time. There will be time for everything. Time for waking up, time for work, time for harvest, time for rest, time for dinner, time for sleep. All tabulated in a course of river known as time, rippled by the percussive rings.

The train came and went, increasingly.... threateningly...

She hates me.

Ghosts are already dead, and cannot be killed again. There lives a ghost exactly in his heart. What should he do? He can do nothing, but eternally fuel this ghost until it grows out of his body, shrouding him in dust. The ghost becomes him, and he becomes it.

The train came and went, without mercy, without a slight glimpse of regret.

They hate me.

Eternally slippery, the floor is eternally slippery. It may not occur to you, but he is exceptionally mindful of that. Every day he would look out of the window, and all that comes to his mind would be something about the weather. Nothing else.

The train came and went, twisted by the fabric of space.

You hate me.

And more. And more trains.



I hate myself.

I hate her.

I hate him.

I hate.






Strange.

Party

Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

There was a man under the great tree
Sitting and reading philosophy

He would stand up and see the crowd
Dancing and discussing
From the atom to the universe

He would say his greetings
And join for a shot of whiskey
Or any other bubble that blurs your body

He would tell them his name
His specialty, his job, his story
And everyone would be pleased

He would dance, even if he can't
And forget about his existence
He would be a speck, not a man

He would leave his phone inside
And put down his favourite work of Plato
Stop calculating, and dim his watch

He would know that the next morning
would be better.

He put down his book,
Look up to the night
The so very indifferent black sky
Only lit by the phone in his hand
And the lamp by his bed with a black duvet.

Religion, law and other nonsense

1. The modern world is a place ruled by law.

What does this statement mean? It means that every individual, no matter his/her status in the society, is bound by an obligation to follow rules set forth by the society itself. This is to ensure that everyone has the opportunity to be treated fairly and justly, with regulations delineated by the so-called "law".

In other words, law is a tether to what we can do, and what we cannot. It is a safeguard against possible intrusions to the public utility. The society itself is very defensive of its morals: Any attempt to damage the integrity of the moral standards shall encounter very tough resistance. In this sense, a "peace-loving", "altruistic" individual is the most valued, for he is the most protective of the utility of the society. This, according to Nietzsche, is how "selflessness" come to be a good virtue.

However, when law itself becomes the problem, we have no solution. When the soldiers in our army turn against ourselves, we have no choice but to surrender. This occurs when law no longer protects us, but our property. One can sometimes bypass basic moral principles to enforce laws so as to be systematic and effectively use law as a bulwark to ambiguities in human behavior. Yet, when law merely protects something that is lifeless, we become not the guardians, but the slaves not only to the properties we own, but also to the lifeless laws we obey. I believe that the point when one knows only to keep an eye on his money and nothing else, is the point when he no longer exists as a living entity.

On a deeper level, isn't the sole existence of law to bound what we can or cannot do a tragedy and lament to our inevitable tendency to corrupt? The tome of rules is evidence that man cannot control himself, and must be intimidated by punishment in order to behave decently. We are indeed born to be bad, born to harm others to loot as much as possible. Law itself testifies the offensive thief within us, and hence hires mercenaries of defense to protect our property, that we so dearly love more than anything else.

Men have created law to protect themselves, but now, in this society of extreme Capitalism, we have unfortunately become enslaved by our own creation. Law is the product of the absurd and crazy man.

2. "Man survives by forgetting his past".

I suppose that we all make mistakes. Multitudes of them, to be honest. Sometimes these mistakes can be far-reaching and dire as well. One factor of two can be exponentiated, exploding into an answer that could misjudge the universe for an atom. One wrong branch in the river of decisions can lead you to a completely different ocean. For a person as careless as me and a mind as chaotic as mine, regret permeates the fabric of his memory, staining it blue and melancholic.

Therefore, to say the least, decisions have troubled mankind for centuries. The wavefunction must collapse to one, and only one, branch. If one never has to make a decision, he must either be extremely dependent, controlled, or downright inept. This is the unfortunate burden that everyone has to bear.

In this sense, in a probabilistic view, everyone must make some kind of wrong decision, and sometimes he would not even know that he made the wrong decision until too late. Regret, just like death, is inevitable to everyone.

Do not let the inevitable lead to your demise.

3. Through the partially reflective glass I gaze over to the splendor of the Victoria Harbour.

Light of all kinds of colours makes this city never experience sunset. Intelligence, dedication, technology have fused to become what we see today, the pearl of the East glimmering in the vast black ocean of Capitalism.

In this epitome of civilization, what place does the archaic religion hold?

The obvious answer would be "none". Every physical law that dictate the flow of electricity through the fluorescent lights, the logic behind integrated circuits in your computers, the propulsion of the engine in your cars, are all found by humans, not "created" by any deity up and above. All evidence points towards the lack of a deity ("white, all-loving, omnipotent etc.") up in the clouds. There simply is no god, and I often wonder why this fact is so difficult to accept. [1]

Yet, within the car I overhear the conversation of two men who have turned to religion. From them, I learn that religion provided the framework within which their moral must stand. This indeed caused them to change their past ways, eliminating a lot of their vices.

Is religion, then, a tool of reformation, providing morals?

Personally, I regard this role of religion in the society yet another tragedy, not unlike that of the existence of law. Engraved on the stone tablets of Moses was, yet again, the testimony of the innate wolves within us. It is of utmost misfortune that mankind needs to rely on ancient superstitions to overcome this urge to harm, and even escape from the truth of eventual death.

Politically, I have seen this society beginning to yield to the ignorant. As long as the desire for money is fulfilled, man can afford to sell his right to know, his conscience. The fact that ignorance is bliss is why I have lost hope to this city. Sleep forever in this orgy of meaningless colours, will you?

[1] For philosophically inclined readers: I think that god is "very likely, almost completely certainly" non-existent. That statement is for people who insist that "god is their everything".