"This is the voice of one of those neolithic Venuses with the enormous pelvic girdles, and tiny mammalian heads that they dig up from the peat bogs of northern Danemark"
- excerpt from Nico: Songs They Never Play On The Radio (x)
Patsy Cline: Walkin’ After Midnight
These Days by Nico
"I’ve stopped my dreaming,
I won’t do too much scheming
These days, these days.
These days I sit on corner stones
And count the time in quarter tones to ten.
Please don’t confront me with my failures,
I had not forgotten them.”
"In its course, nature has made blunders in plenty. These are left to die out, as is nature’s wont. Perhaps this is how we will go — a natural death. It might be idly theorized, though, that nature has a special plan for human beings and devised us to serve as a way of revoking itself, much like Mainländer’s self-expunging God. An offbeat idea, no protest, but not the strangest we have ever heard or lived by. We could at least take up the hypothesis and see where it leads. If it is proved unviable, then were is the harm? But until then, might we not let ourselves be drawn along by nature’s plain which includes our sacking the earth as a paradoxical means of living better in it, or at least living as *our nature* bids us to live.
We did not make ourselves, nor did we fashion a world that could not work without pain, and great pain at that, with a little pleasure, very little, to string us along — a world where all organisms are inexorable pushed by pain throughout their lives to do that which will improve their chances to survive and create more of themselves. Left unchecked, this process will last as long as a single cell remains palpitating in this cesspool of the solar system, this toilet of the galaxy. So why not lend a hand in nature’s suicide? For want of a deity that could be held to account for a world in which there is terrible pain, let nature take the blame for our troubles. We did not create an environment uncongenial to our species, nature did. One would think that nature was trying to kill us off, or get us to suicide ourselves once the blunder of consciousness came upon us. What was nature thinking? We tried to anthropomorphize it, to romanticize it, to let it into our hearts. But nature kept its distance, leaving us to our own devices. So be it. Survival is a two-way street. Once we settle ourselves off-world, we can blow this planet up from outer space. It’s the only way to be sure its stench will not follow us. Let it save itself if it can— the condemned are known for the acrobatics they will execute to wriggle out of their sentences. But if it cannot destroy what it has made, then may it perish along with every other living creature it has introduced to pain."
- The Conspiracy Against the Human Race by Thomas Ligotti (via jaded-toddler)