the myth of the fall

it is told,
by many,
that eve partook of the fig of knowledge and thus began the disrepair of humankind.
this is - well! - an truth, but a shaky one.
there are layers to being, see.
there is, in a manner of which i am content at least at this juncture to refer,
sleep and wake,
and all many in betwixt!
sleep within sleep, lo! and sleep within wake -
and.
eve's partake
was but the first venture of human into the world of being sleepless within.
this was - however!
not simply the original break - the first movement towards true understanding of time and death.
this was the being of all such.
this was - and is! - the moment of all - any! - wakefulness.
and yet! the moment of true dream.
eve woke into the dream of true life.
eve gave to us all the depth of be.
the greatest gift given to any sinch JHWH indeed partook to transcribe all.
and the break with JHWH! - ah! - but was this not the truest and most godlike of all human ventures!
well, childs, i shall tell thee now,
that yes,
it was.

sfb et al.

let's not get into the whole superlatively superlative laden argument against canonisation of literary (or anysuch) works here, and yet, indeed, as i am aware, (don't think i'm that fucking stupid) every time i say something such it essentially equates to 'here we go with an argument driven by an appreciation of said position without any essential realisation of methodology behind understanding or otherwise of such position' well who gives a fuck. you? then fuck off.

brownrig expresses something undeniably visceral and yet intensely laden with the history and histrionics of cinema and american exploitation cinema in general. ok look for fucks sake i've only seen two of this motherfuckers films but seriously don't look in the basement and keep my grave open are epic and darkly, morbidly pathological works of ineptness of a type that only the truest of all true shitcore art (read: streetkid jake) can even yearn to splendour in the wake of. (deal is, of course, i reckon that i make really good shitcore and that's why i get to talk about such)

cinema has given those of us with a real yearning for psycho-pathological non-invasive interpretations of fetishisation within an framework of pure unadalterated aesthetic socio-phobic realisation-manipulation more of and more than any could imagine before such an being was such.

and my little boy sfb has encapsulated all that is truest upon false of cinematology in his works.

mental illness is an issue of which cinema has chosen to follow the traditional line, to the point of creating an horribly splendifourous paternalistic, socio-normalistic Howardite love-in of despicably patriotic regalia.

an holier-than-thou, trad Christian uber-understanding that encapsulated only the necessity of suchness to create an other, and give it a tag.

like a fucking pet.

brownrig doesn't do this.

oh, sure, to the PC-trained eye, he is exploiting mental instability. BUT NO.

there is no untruth, because, BROWNRIG IS CREATING CINEMA.

creating an work.

and working within the framework of creation that such an juncture engenders.

THERE IS NO PHONY SELF-INDULGENT PLEASANTRIES TOWARDS THE MENTALLY ILL.

there is the melodrama, and melancholie, that is at the heart of great psycho-exploitative yankee cinema.

there is no honesty.

there is being, and BEING WITHIN THE REALMS OF CINEMA.