Mračni blog

Monday finds you like a bomb
That’s been left ticking there too long
You’re bleeding
Some days there's nothing left to learn
From the point of no return
You're leaving

Hey hey I saved the world today
Everybody’s happy now
The bad things gone away
And everybody’s happy now
The good thing’s here to stay
Please let it stay

There’s a million mouths to feed
And I’ve got everything i need
I’m breathing
And there’s a hurting thing inside
But I’ve got everything to hide
I'm grieving

Hey hey I saved the world today
Everybody’s happy now
The bad things gone away
And everybody’s happy now
The good thing’s here to stay
Please let it stay

Doo doo doo doo doo the good thing

Hey hey I saved the world today
Everybody’s happy now
The bad things gone away
And everybody’s happy now
The good thing’s here to stay
Please let it stay

Everybody's happy now

It began when they come took me from my home
And put me in Dead Row,
Of which I am nearly wholly innocent, you know.
And I'll say it again
I..am..not..afraid..to..die.
I began to warm and chill
To objects and their fields,
A ragged cup, a twisted mop
The face of Jesus in my soup
Those sinister dinner meals
The meal trolley's wicked wheels
A hooked bone rising from my food
All things either good or ungood.
And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this measuring of truth.
An eye for an eye
A tooth for a tooth
And anyway I told the truth
And I'm not afraid to die.
Interpret signs and catalogue
A blackened tooth, a scarlet fog.
The walls are bad. Black. Bottom kind.
They are sick breath at my hind
They are sick breath at my hind
They are sick breath at my hind
They are sick breath gathering at my hind
I hear stories from the chamber
How Christ was born into a manger
And like some ragged stranger
Died upon the cross
And might I say it seems so fitting in its way
He was a carpenter by trade
Or at least that's what I'm told
Like my good hand I
tatooed E.V.I.L. across it's brother's fist
That filthy five! They did nothing to challenge or resist.
In Heaven His throne is made of gold
The ark of his Testament is stowed
A throne from which I'm told
All history does unfold.
Down here it's made of wood and wire
And my body is on fire
And God is never far away.
Into the mercy seat I climb
My head is shaved, my head is wired
And like a moth that tries
To enter the bright eye
I go shuffling out of life
Just to hide in death awhile
And anyway I never lied.
My kill-hand is called E.V.I.L.
Wears a wedding band that's G.O.O.D.
`Tis a long-suffering shackle
Collaring all that rebel blood.
And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this measuring of truth.
An eye for an eye
And a tooth for a tooth
And anyway I told the truth
And I'm not afraid to die.
And the mercy seat is burning
And I think my head is glowing
And in a way I'm hoping
To be done with all this weighing up of truth.
An eye for an eye
And a tooth for a tooth
And I've got nothing left to lose
And I'm not afraid to die.
And the mercy seat is glowing
And I think my head is smoking
And in a way I'm hoping
To be done with all this looks of disbelief.
An eye for an eye
And a tooth for a tooth
And anyway there was no proof
Nor a motive why.
And the mercy seat is smoking
And I think my head is melting
And in a way I'm helping
To be done with all this twisted of the truth.
A lie for a lie
And a truth for a truth
And I've got nothing left to lose
And I'm not afraid to die.
And the mercy seat is melting
And I think my blood is boiling
And in a way I'm spoiling
All the fun with all this truth and consequence.
An eye for an eye
And a truth for a truth
And anyway I told the truth
And I'm not afraid to die.
And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this measuring of proof.
A life for a life
And a truth for a truth
And anyway there was no proof
But I'm not afraid to tell a lie.
And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this measuring of truth.
An eye for an eye
And a truth for a truth
And anyway I told the truth
But I'm afraid I told a lie.

Orbiting the sun at about 93 million miles
is a little blue planet
and this planet is run
by a bunch of monkeys.

Now, the monkeys don’t think of
themselves as monkeys.
They don’t even think of themselves as animals
And they love to list all the things
that they think
separate them from the animals:
Opposable thumbs, self awareness . . .
They’ll use words like
Homo Erectus and Australopithecus.

You say Toe-mate-o,
I say Toe-motto.
They’re animals all right.
They’re monkeys.
Monkeys with high-speed digital fiber optic technology,
but monkeys nevertheless.

I mean, they’re clever.
You’ve got to give them that.
The Pyramids, skyscrapers, phantom jets,
the Great Wall of China.
That’s all some pretty impressive shit . . .
for a bunch of monkeys.

Monkeys whose brains have evolved
to such an unmanageable size
that it’s now pretty much impossible
for them stay happy for any length of time

In fact, they’re the only animals
that think they’re supposed to be happy.
All of the other animals can just be.

But it’s not that simple for the monkeys.

You see, the monkeys are cursed with consciousness
and so the monkeys are afraid.
So the monkeys worry.
The monkeys worry about everything,
but mostly about what all the other monkeys think.
Because the monkeys desperately want to fit in
with the other monkeys.

Which is hard to do,
because a lot of the monkeys seem to hate each other.
This what really separates them from the other animals.
These monkeys hate.
They hate monkeys that are different.
Monkeys from different places,
monkeys who are a different color-

You see, the monkeys feel alone.
All six billion of them.

Some of the monkeys pay another monkey
to listen to their problems.

Because the monkeys want answers
and the monkeys don’t want to die.
So the monkeys make up gods
and then they worship them.
Then the monkeys argue
over whose made-up god is better.
Then the monkeys get really pissed off
and this is usually when the monkeys decide
that it’s a good time to start killing each other.

So the monkeys wage war.
The monkeys make hydrogen bombs.
The monkeys have got their whole fucking planet
wired up to explode.
The monkeys just can’t help it.

Some of the monkeys play to a sold out crowd . . .
of other monkeys.

The monkeys make trophies
and then they give them to each other.
Like it means something.

Some of the monkeys think
that they have it all worked out.
Some of the monkeys read Nietzsche
The monkeys argue about Nietzsche
without given any consideration to the fact
that Nietzsche
was just another fucking monkey.

The monkeys make plans.
The monkeys fall in love.
The monkeys fuck
and then they make more monkeys.

The monkeys make music
and then the monkeys DANCE
Dance, monkeys, dance.

The monkeys make a hell of a lot of noise.
Exhibit A
Monkey making noise.
And when he’s done,
five other randomly selected monkeys
will rate this monkey’s noises
on a scale from one to ten.
At the end of the night,
they add all the numbers up
to see which monkey made the best noises.

As you can see . . .
these are some fucked up monkeys.

These monkeys are at once the ugliest
and most beautiful creatures on the planet.

And the monkeys don’t want to be monkeys.
They want to be something else.
But they're not.

Quintana :

Bestseler je nastao negdje na potezu Iblerov trg – Booksa. Nosio sam Lebowskom knjigu „Sam“ od Namika Kabila, a on je čini mi se nosio 10.000,00 kn Portu koje je ovaj dobio na nekom od brojnih književnih natječaja.

Ponestalo nam je novaca pa smo počeli trošiti Portovu nagradu. Mislim da se Lebowski poslije pravdao ovome kako su se novci jednostavno izmiješali i kako ih više nije bilo moguće razlikovati. Kako je to sve skupa završilo ne znam, nisam bio u Booksi par sati kasnije gdje se to odigravalo. Pričali smo između ostaloga i o tome kako bi bilo zgodno na jednom mjestu predstaviti neke od najzanimljivijih autora hrvatskog bloga. Onda smo rekli konobarici da nam donese salvetu pa smo na njoj napravili nacrt rubrika, autora i svega ostalog.

Može se dakle reći da je Bestseler baš kao i neka druga povijesna događanja počeo skicom na običnoj salveti.

Prva verzija bestselera pojavila se 26. prosinca 2005., u nekih 100 dana djelovanja na sajtu se pojavilo oko 330 tekstova i nešto preko 30 autora.

Došlo je vrijeme da poradimo i na novoj verziji bestselera. Mračni je predložio da skrenemo u pravcu prave blogerske mreže pa smo u nekoliko desetaka mejlova dogovorili kako bi to trebalo izgledati. Sam Mračni je zasukao rukave i počeo raditi na Bestseleru 2.0, a naš čovjek iz Amsterdama, tajanstveni Tajni Ortak i glavni financijer cijelog projekta odobrio je sredstava za ovaj posao.

Mračni:

Bestseler 2.0 je danas ispred vas. Napravljen je po uzoru na slične blogerske mreže širom svijeta i okuplja ponajbolje blogere na hrvatskom dijelu interneta.

Čeka nas još dosta posla, B2.0 je permanentni work_in_progress, želimo ostati bliski blog formi kroz tekstove koje će blogeri - članovi mreže objavljivati na ovim stranicama, dok ćemo istovremeno promovirati blogere na njihovoj izvornoj domeni (koja god to ona bila). Pokušat ćemo pratiti kvalitetne blogove kvalitetnih autora, Bestseler neće biti zatvoreno ekskluzivno društvo određenog broja autora. Naprotiv, pokušati ćemo što više pratiti događanja u sve uzburkanijoj i iz dana u dan sve važnijoj blogerskoj sceni, te stvoriti respektabilnu blogersku mrežu.

Vrata (email adrese) za suradnju s Bestselerom su bila i ostaju otvorena, javljali su nam se autori i iz drugih medija čije smo tekstove objavljivali. Od toga nećemo odustati - a s vremenom ćemo pokušati pokrenuti i neke popratne sadržaje. Isto tako, poradit ćemo i na gradnji veza i suradnje s blogerskim zajednicama susjednih zemalja.

Do čitanja,

Jesus Quintana quintana (at) bestseler (.) net
Mračni mracni (.) blog (at) gmail (.) com

When you're sad and when you're lonely and you haven't got a friend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all that you've held sacred, falls down and does not mend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end

When you're standing at the crossroads that you cannot comprehend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all your dreams have vanished and you don't know what's up the bend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end

When the storm clouds gather 'round you, and heavy rains descend
Just remember that death is not the end
And there's no one there to comfort you, with a helpin' hand to lend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end

Oh, the tree of life is growing
Where the spirit never dies
And the bright light of salvation shines
In dark and empty skies

When the cities are on fire with the burning flesh of men
Just remember that death is not the end
And you search in vain to find just one law abiding citizen
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end

Bila je priča o nekoj turističkoj grupi koja je hodala okolo po japanu i onda su jednoga dana stigli ispred jednog zdanja te je turistički vodič počeo objašnjavati kako je ta zgrada bila srušena u tim i tim godinama, kako je stradala u požaru tada i tada i kako je nestala do temelja u potresu tada i tada. Onda se javio neki od turista (vjerojatno amerikanac) i pitao: "Pa ako je ta zgrada bila srušena, stradala u požaru i potresu x puta, kako možete govoriti da je to jedna te ista zgrada?", a japanac je mrtav hladan odgovorio "Naravno da nije, no duh prvobitne zgrade i dalje živi!". Duh mračnogbloga i dalje živi, ali progoni čitatelje na drugoj adresi (koja je, ponavljam, neupadljivo skrivena u kolumni s desne strane).