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paintausea — Deep Rooted Depression - The Loudest Silence
#deep #emotional #tendencies #brokenneck #death #depression #loud #monochrome #silence #suicidal #paintausea
Published: 2016-01-05 02:27:34 +0000 UTC; Views: 11430; Favourites: 214; Downloads: 62
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Description
I feel dead.But I am alive enough to feel the pain.
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Comments: 53
I already told you on Skype how this made me feel, just copy and pasting it here.
Each heartbeat feels like it hurts, a painful reminder that I'm still alive.. and the veins are like open wounds pulsating and throbbing. I feel meaningless static and electricity looping over and over again in my brain...
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Thank you... You have no idea how much it comforts me when you write down your feelings regarding my art...
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You will always remember that special one song even if you don't want to. That's an earworm!
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I've always found the direct translation of the german word amusing..
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i love your art.
i don't know what your passions in life are, but god if you ever provided art for a game i would be SO happy and snap that game right up.
randomly, but... sincerely
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Hahah.. snap the game..!
My passion is my pain at the moment... I live in dark rooms...
Thank you for your sincerity..!
Why would you-- can imagine my art in games...?
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HA i wouldn't snap the game. i'd probably play it over and over til it snapped itself tho!
my passion is pain, too! in a way. very hard to explain but i left a comment on a previous reply of yours...
i can imagine your art in games easily--award-winning games. seriously. i ***ing LOVE how you animate some of your work (hence my thoughts on gaming... even simple choice-making games...holy *** it'd be fantastic). effective as hell. again, can't really explain, but i definitely feel it. and that's what matters to me.
hmmm and among other things, i'm a silent hill fan. your work reminds me of the first four games... sincere dark self-reflection. depth. not ***ing fake jumpscares etc. real heart-shaking goodness. but with that truth inside that is really scary.
i love it
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I would love to make a game really.. T.T
But I lack the knowledge and life energy...
I am very in love with the RPG-pixel games that are made in the RPG-maker..
That's just cause I hang on to the old styled snes like games uvu;;
3D games make me dizzy... so I've never gotten around to play the silent hill series, though I do have seen playthroughs of it..!
I miss the story-driven horror games that squeeze your heart in fear as well..
How do you feel about the Undertale game..? It has become so popular and I have yet to play it..
You are so loving, thank you so much..!! ♥
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"Sometimes you just keep moving on. You don't want to, you lay still. But life drags you along."
It moves! So lifeless and harsh contrast, it really gives the title some feeling. "The Loudest Silence" most definitely.
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It is deafening...
I feel very much like the quote...
Like a harsh breathing corpse being dragged by life's wagon on the glass splinted road...
Thank you..
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It happens...
Sometimes the most you can do is forget to be injured...
Still, I hope you feel better someday.
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I just tried to imagine walking around with a broken leg forgetting it is broken..
I think the small sparks of pain will remind you every now and then, or more often...
Thank you..
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For some reason, what came to mind immediately upon seeing this and reading the description, sounded like I was giving some one advice, but is actually just musings I think:
"There are alot of us, just alive enough to feel pain, and nothing else. Its what you decide to do with those waking moments that defines what you are in the end, and maybe, whether or not you'll feel anything else."
So uhh.. yeah, thanks brain, I guess?...
Aside from that I got the impression of a sound, if you've ever heard the 'emergency radio signal'. That, or the static dead pan noise Televisions used to make, I dont know if they still make that noise.
So yeah, thats just immediate thoughts/memories that came up.
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Your brain musings makes me want to cry....
Makes me feel like I am responsible for all the pain I feel..
But yes... that is the type I was trying to represent....
It is steadily there in my head, breathing loudly...
I remember when I used to just sit in front of the tv as a child staring and listening to those static screens numbly..
Thank you for your thoughts...!
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Hm. Well, sorry about that.
Yes, it stands out quite well!
Well uhm, you're welcome I suppose, Still sorry it upset you.
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It's okay. Me being upset is quite the norm.
You don't have to apologize for it.
I am happy that you shared them, really (:
The more honest the better!
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Well, that might be so, but I mean, I dont want to also be a cause of that..
Anyway, Im glad you appreciate the honesty then.
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Don't worry!
You wouldn't really be the cause..
It didn't really get me as upset as it may have seemed.
I'm okay, thank you so much for considering my feelings..!
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Well, alright, I hope.
*bow*
You are certainly welcome.
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Well, that is creeping me out.
Nvertheless, great work!
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I'm glad it evokes a type of emotion out of you..
Thank you!
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"Hello darkness, my old friend.
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I were sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains...
Within the sound of silence..."
I think I heard this sound before, somewhen...
Back in college. Caught some kind of bug. Had to spend the day in bed. I felt this strange pulse resonate through my head. My ears blanked out for a second. Then another, stronger pulse came. And another. Like the wave train of a tsunami these seismic pulses kept coming, quicker and quicker, stronger and stronger; before building up to a silently cacophonous pressure dome that threatened to explode my head. I could only stop it by clenching my eyes shut and screaming as loud as it did.
When I opened my eyes again, everything had this bizarre orange-yellow tint to it and was impossibly bright, as if it had all been lit up by a volcanic sunset right inside my bedroom, and the next couple of minutes turned into impossibly long hours.
Whatever that was, I really hope it doesn't visit me again (but I expect it probably will do later on, if I make it to old age...)
The rattling sound waves hark back to your 2012 piece Communicate, with the fallen mask and the phones. Except that now, there are no tinny voices to break that wall of silence. It's remarkable how silence is my greatest sanctuary in the day, but an encroaching horror at night. If I don't have my desk fan on when I'm trying to sleep to drown out the silence, a whole symphony of bizarre voices, sounds and wayward musical rhymes and chings rattles from inside my head, out through my ears. Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in the Cave of my Skull and Grooving with a Runaway Pict, who lives in here somewhere. I still haven't pinned that bastard down, yet...
Whipped strands of black coalesce at the hands and feet like the fins of a black tip shark. Gangrenous, the rot of many uncountable sins wrought by those very hands. How many land sharks were these hands used to punch, scratch, shoo away and otherwise dissuade them from a quite substantial feast of lost moralities that never were? The basic instinct of survival at any cost flipping the middle finger to the "sacrosanct" as those feet carry this foul-fettled figure across land marked only for the righteously devout. A segregation for the blind and foolish "chosen people" against those who actually bothered to use their brains as well as their eyes and ears. For to really think is to ask questions, and to maintain any authority over its people, an oligarchy must jackhammer the idea into everyone's heads that the question mark is a meaningless entity. Nobody likes anyone who asks too many questions. They're swiftly labeled as disobedient, rude, egotistic, nerdy, and that most demonizing and segregating of all foul labels this language of conquest has invented: 'freak'.
But even so, there are still those who dare bear these cruel names to flout this New World Order to bring the curve and the dot back into the collective prefrontal cortex as a symbol of forbidden knowledge for the elites, at the behest of the masses who they control. So how do you suppress their desire to feed on the forbidden fruit? Simple, you oversaturate the market with the soul-stripping, neuron-numbing, heart-haranguing, mind-melting, body-beating bliss... of nothing. Give it a skin that it sheds every ten years, weave that skin into our overcoats and then flaunt those shiny feathers! Flaunt them high and wide!! Dazzle the rest of the flock with your peacock show. Of course, all social birds like to babble and squawk amongst themselves, so go on and fill our ears with the silent sound waves of incense, peppermints and meaningless nouns. Babble! Burble! Banter! Bicker, bicker, bicker! Brouhaha! Balderdash! Ballyhoo! It's only talk! Squawk words of nothing; for silence is not the absence of sound, but the absence of the voices and musical tunes of inquisitorial backtalk. You, dear hungry blackbirds, need to drown out the voices of the inquisitors, the people who refuse to pageant themselves before themselves in reflecting metallic glass.
What's that? No, no, you don't have to be afraid of their voices. We'll make doubly sure that they'll never make the most of any opportunity to talk their trash. We'll just inject a little bit of common animosity, a small trace of schism, a fleet of adamantine walls around the crows who dare break the loudest silence of nothing with their questions. With so much rancor hanging low over the air like the mist that neither dews nor rises, their tiny hearts would only dare beat less than a millimeter out of line with the pulsating rhythm of the Ministry of Sound. Those hearts shall never dare let loose those strands of black to tread trepidatiously over paved and tarmacked terrain that is rightfully ours; not theirs. They shall only raise their hands in deference rather than defiance to the domineering dance of despotism. For even then, if they so much as lift a finger in the spirit of the second D, we'll throw the book at them. 4-19-12-V (the letters are numbers are letters). It will be like breaking their necks and stripping them bare for all the world to see. They could never risk emotional suicide by raising their voices again. From then onwards, there is no turning back for the once wise old crows. Soon, the screaming suns in their eyes will fade to black dwarves as their spirits turn to digital dope. Their broken necks will resonate to the silent cacophony of meaningless burble like all the other blackbirds and their lyrical waxings. When the dead astronauts in space float by lifelessly with black holes in their eyes, bleached skin broken only by the tarred hands and feet of the lost-cause sinner children of a dead revolution; then the oligarchic cycle will be complete.
The Loudest Silence of the death of the human spirit will scream in our brains forevermore as we ride down the Wall Street slide to a Deep Rooted Depression...
It is artists like you, Pai, that ensure this cacophony of silence is not the only thing we will ever hear. You are among the artistic elite on this website. And whilst some people may simply look at your work and say "ugh, creepy..." and turn away; I'm afraid they are of those whose ears sing only to the sound of silence. They will never see the intricacies of every element of each one of your paintings. Indeed, even I sometimes slip on recognizing the intricacies of a splintered soul who continues to rebel, albeit passively, against this plastic pantomime of media monkeys and junket junkies for as long as her heart still beats. 'Cause I see those eyes are not completely blacked out, yet - whilst the heart may be tapping out its last drum line of the good song of freedom, the faintest of crescents still continue to adhere steadfastly to the lower lids of your eyes. And that faintest of lights is all you need.
Well, that and loads and loads and loads of hugs and cheers from all of us for being the stalwart survivor you are!
So keep marching, Pai! Your sun has not been eclipsed by the moon just yet.
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Forgive me if I fail to write you back such a thorough and thought provoking reply such as yours..
Will you be the leader of the angry rebellion that throws fire into the booming buildings of a screeching machine, best served in screws-- because we really might need to just unscrew ourselves to let lose.
You have a profound way of writing and decorating your thoughts with intricate little explosions of -- (insertaselfexplanatorywordherethatwouldsummarizewhatiamtryingtosay--becauseclearlyiamnotsurewhatthatis)
I am actually happy I have found someone of your like again under my paintings..
I remember a friend who has trailed off and away, who used to also write such detailed comments of his thoughts. Very much like you do.
Though, you are so much more energy-driven and adorable with your support...
I am moved and astounded by how well you went into the details of my painting...
You make me feel like my paintings have a bigger purpose than just venting of wasted life.
Thank you so much.. (:
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"Hey, don't worry about tossing word salad all over the kitchen!"
Sorry................sorry, that sounded so rudely dismissive of that first part of your reply... Sorry...
I do like the way you worded that. It conjures up a mental image of hurling Molotov cocktails into Wall Street banks and government buildings.
Ummmmmm................yeah..........
Stay safe, stay shining and most importantly, stay YOU, Pai-chan!
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Sometimes I am afraid to know who I am and what makes me, me and if I am actually me or just an acting me or a fake me that appears occasionally on this site.
Sorry, mumbo-jumbo. Thank you... (:
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What mumbo-jumbo, though?
If anything, even David Bowie could relate to this entirely. That's why he always created alter-egos like Ziggy Stardust and the Thin White Duke - it gave him the energy and confidence he needed to perform as a character in his music, rather than as himself. "Offstage, I'm a robot. Onstage, I achieve emotion. It's probably why I prefer dressing up as Ziggy to being David." - the master himself, from 1973. If you watch his early interviews from the 70s and compare them to interviews from the 90s and early 2000s, you can see how cagey he was back when he was playing dress-up, so to speak. It took him at least a couple of decades before he felt comfortable enough to laugh and joke on camera; but he was always soft-spoken and shy in other people's company away from showbiz. There's even a blog post on BeyondAnxietyAndDepression.com that talks about how Bowie used the power of the alter-ego to sing on stage as well as he did. It's quite a revealing read: [link]
As for me, I tend to wear different personalities like clothes. When I'm in the company of like-minded people, I become more outspoken and willing to discuss matters of common interest between us. Sometimes I even verge on being bombastic. When I feel like I'm poles apart from others, though (especially my flatmates at uni), I become as distant and reclusive as Syd Barrett after he stopped making music. Actually, I've taken very strongly to the idea of joining as many clubs and societies at uni and reading as many library books about as many different subjects as possible while I'm still here, for the sole purpose of (re?)discovering me. I'm still trying to find me just as much as you are trying to find you. I don't think it's actually as bizarre a concept as you may think, but at the end of the day it's like watching porn - few people are willing to admit to it.
So kudos to you, Pai-chan!
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Hey, don't worry about tossing word salad all over the kitchen! Your gift is with VISUAL art! It connects people. It gets people talking and thinking. It may even cause the tiniest bit of controversy. That is what truly great art does! That is what YOUR art does! Abracadabra!
Hahaaaa.... as much as I'd love to light the fuse to the bomb under this ulcerated human tin o' sardines, I'd need to learn how to properly wash and iron my own clothes! And then I'd need to make TONNES of social connections, pour through reams of reading, and of course there's SOOOOOOOOOOOOO much music and art out there that would be enough to sink the Titanic......again......
For now, I'll continue to let the best of the crop be my guiding light! (and that goes for YOU too; not just your paintings! )
"we really might need to just unscrew ourselves to let lose."
That actually reminds me of this brilliant video from Chris Crocker. Yep, THAT Chris Crocker... Chris Crocker - What is "normal"?
I know how to summarize my "profound" word salad for you: rock song lyrics; online dictionaries and the thesaurus in Microsoft Word! Ain't effacing your own (stolen) words just so much fun??? (I feel like that made no grammatical sense...)
I think I've seen that guy of whom you speak around here before........... <--- is this the chap? Aye, I was amazed at his own ability to see infinity where most people would see nothing. Honestly, your artwork and his words bounce off each other as well as jam and peanut butter; certainly made me do many a double-take on the paintings of yours he commented on.
I actually checked his profile to see what he was up to nowadays...............turned out he hasn't been on in over two years! If you're comparing me to that tool (see what I did there?) I would be like a young-blood, fresh-outta-uni journalist, and ToolMeshuggah would be like Marilyn Manson. Talking of whom, you really need to check out Manson's entry in Rolling Stone magazine about the Columbine school shooting: Columbine: Whose Fault Is It? | Rolling Stone <--- Boom. There's your scapegoat, Middle America (or I'm still stuck in the 90s...).
"Though, you are so much more energy-driven and adorable with your support..."
UGUUUUUU, SEN-PAI~ (OK, that one was shit... )
I try my best to analyse every detail in your paintings because I know.......no, I RECALL, from my own times spent in GCSE Art class, that every tiny detail in an art piece is never put there just for shits 'n' giggles (unless you go Art Nouveau - bunch of smarmy kitsch gits...), every single thing in an art piece is there for a reason - even if that reason is different among artist and viewers; and that is what makes not just visual art but poetry, music, film and play such diverse and versatile forms of expression and communication. Because ultimately, it's those differing thoughts and emotions incited in the minds and hearts of the viewers, watchers or listeners of these different art forms that opens up the opportunity for discussion and even religiously ferocious argument. And the more any kind of art piece is able to do that, and the greater numbers of thoughts and feelings it can elicit in those subjected to it; the greater that piece of art really is, and the more remembered both it and the artist behind it will be in the future.
Can you guess who I'm talking about, specifically...?
"You make me feel like my paintings have a bigger purpose than just venting of wasted life."
And there is your grand awakening, Pai-chan!
Hold on to that feeling and cultivate it like the last wheat crop on Earth. For many artists indeed start off with creating art pieces for themselves, but as they become more popular, they begin to cater more to the crowd that follows them, and ultimately that dilutes the power of their message that was there at the start of their career. It almost killed David Bowie's in the 80s. But the truly great artists are those who are able to tap in to the collective consciousness in such a way that they are able to create astounding works of art which not only express the thoughts and feelings of the artist but also elicit an entire collective of once disillusioned people to rise up in rebellion against the old order and lay the foundations for the next great era of social change and reform. And that all becomes part of the art. It's not just the paintings or the music or the films or the plays or the poems or any other works of art created by the artist - it's also the social commentary and action that follows afterwards. And the best artists know how to exploit that and use those waves to shout their message louder and louder; further and further; to more ears and eyes... and so the domino effect continues.
Henri Matisse and the Fauvists did it in the early 20th Century.
Chuck Berry and his ilk did it in the 50s.
David Bowie did it in the 70s.
Marilyn Manson did it in the 90s.
I wonder when Pai-chan will leave her indelible mark on the world for the next great era of rebellion and social change...?
"You've had your time. You've had the power. You've yet to have your finest hour!"
Are these long-ass comments of mine getting tiresome? I always feel as if I'm giving you so much to think about replying to that you might worry about accidentally skipping something. I can try my best to shorten them down in future, if you want me to...
As always, thank YOU for your art, for your kind words, for helping the disillusioned to connect with each other and.....................just for you, really!
I can't wait to see where this story will lead to next...
GODSPEED!!!
Oh and also...................if you ever need a friend to confide in.........my account is always open for you..........you've done that favour for all of us..........now I'd like to return that favour...........if I can...........
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Yes... That was the lad...!
For duration of the time when he stopped being active, made me think my art was being unimpressive or boring.. -sighs-
>>People who appear to be normal, are just individuals you haven't properly meet you...
I am, actually, having a bit of trouble replying to all of your messages.. xD;; A bit overwhelmed maybe...
I've become too anxious to say anything because my lack of words are being replaced by static...
I hope you won't find it offensive when I might not reply.. I usually sit around the pc and think too much and wind up not doing anything.. I'm sorry..!
Thank you so much for the offer...! I will have to remember it during the dark hours... but it is always so hard for me to ask for help...
But I really appreciate it..!
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I haven't a clue why he hasn't been on in so long. Maybe he just got bored of DA in general and drifted off...............away from one of the BEST PEOPLE HE EVER MET ON THIS SITE?! THAT DUDE'S A SINNER, I TELL YA!!!
Okay, okay, calm, calm.............relax, me, relax.............ohmmmmmmmmm-GSAFDKJHHGERWILUHGERTRKJM67,J65[P'JK60-[K69[-=5-=
MATE...that's exactly how I am when I wanna leave a comment on your other paintings. The thing is I don't want to just feel like a mirror to what's in the painting, if that makes sense. That's why whenever I do leave a comment (on a serious painting, that is) I like to analyse as many of the details of your paintings as possible and contextualize them in social, cultural or even political way; because I always feel like there's something powerful and far-reaching in there that a lot of people don't recognize. You seem to look at your gallery and see a worthless pile of vents on a worthless life... what I see is not only one of the bravest and most thorough explorations of one's own psyche that I have ever seen in art, but also a scathing expose of the rotten condition of a society which is producing higher rates of depression, anxiety and suicide than ever before. Your paintings DO have a greater purpose than mere venting. They just need the right eyes and minds to see those hidden details for what they really show................ *trades own eyes and brain for more competent ones hurrdurr*
Just remember: <----- Always open! Remember it! REMEMBER THE LIVING $#!T OUT OF IT, GOD DAMMIT......................please?
Stay cosmic, spacegirl!
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Amai... Spacegirl..! Where did this come from again?
I always have to remind myself to slow down and breath..
I am able to appreciate more things this way..
I've been feeling lonely lately for some reason.. I'm not sure what this actually means because I don't even want to talk to people... ;;;
But at the same time, I feel like there really isn't anyone I feel comfortable enough to talk to.. or even anyone available at that moment...
Have you felt like this before too? I've been trying to visualize it into a piece of art, but all I see is a black room with a whit figure fading into nothingness..
I guess that could actually be considered somewhat of a painting I could give my time to.. Aaaa.. my head is filled with too much nonsense.
I am really thankful though. Really. ♥
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I always feel like I never have enough time to slow down. Even though my life has effectively ground to a halt...
Mind you, talking of appreciating things, I remember when my parents and I went to southeastern Cyprus (I think it was there), and we were out walking and we stopped on this sandy beach. I kept going for a bit, up this short path that carved through the rock face, and happened across this small wooden bench just sitting there before a small cluster of trees. And I sat down and the view was absolutely perfect. There was the azure sea before me, barely a ripple on the water, a couple of small white boats pottering about their business, the buzzing of insects around me, the sweet smell of spring bloom wafting in and out with the salty sea breeze, not a high-rise to be seen, and the whole view was ringed by the canopy of greens and yellows of the trees behind me (they offered some great shade, too!). In that moment, was probably my most meditative or at least mindful moment of the whole holiday. If I'd had my camera with me then, I'd have taken a photo and shown you. I'm sure you would have absolutely loved it.
To be honest, loneliness and not wanting to talk to anyone at the same time is something I've dealt with my whole life, pretty much. I think it's that we really want to talk to someone who really understands our pain. But because we can't gauge that by just looking at someone, we close ourselves off as much as possible to protect ourselves from the derision of people who simply don't know what it feels like to be an outsider. I tend to avoid my flatmates as much as possible for that very reason. Even in my Asperger's/autism club I'm still somewhat cagey with talking. It's a vicious self-fulfilling prophecy that constantly feeds on itself.
But, in that moment on the bench, any loneliness I would have felt then would've quickly been replaced by an ethereal peace that I don't think I'll find anywhere else. I really didn't want to leave when my parents wanted to keep moving, ruining my peacetime! That was such a special place for me, that lonely little bench on the rocks under the trees...
I hope, maybe, you'll find such a place which will quieten down your inner demons if even just for a few short blissful minutes. It would be even more special if we could share that experience together...
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That was frikkin beautiful to read...!!
You painted a very lovely picture in my head... I would've loved to join you on that spot..
Such spots are always my favorite ones..
I haven't come across many of these since I barely leave my apartment anymore..
The winter doesn't really help either.
But even if just for a spot-- I pray that these feelings will just stay with me no matter where I am.
I am so happy you understand me... Perhaps there are others who might read these-- who will maybe feel the same..
I avoid pretty much everyone too.. It has taken me a long time to be this open about my feelings. I've really wanted to gather more courage and face my inner demons more.
Not just in a painting, but perhaps in my daily life as well..
I long to live in such a place..
And quietly live my days away painting, listening to what nature is and does.. Having my few sips of beer here and there--
Just getting out of this chaos of a city. It is tiring to be around artificial happiness that tries to pound into you false dreams..
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I'd been looking through 's photographs and I saw your comments on From the Top of Miyajima. I knew you really appreciate places like this, so I wanted to share my story after you brought it up (albeit indirectly). Thinking back, I wonder what emotions the two of us would have shared if we were there together at that spot... Maybe you should try painting this picture! I'd love to see how you visualized it.
I've never usually wanted to understand other people too much (maybe that's why they scare me), so to read something like that from a person I actually want to be closer to feels so rewarding. I am so glad to be able to understand you as well as I do. It actually makes me feel like someone else... someone good...
But even if there are things I won't understand about you, that ain't ever gonna stop my heart from always glomping all over you! C'mere, you...
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Hahha... I've.. heard people say these things a lot to me..
Afterwards.. I've left them disheveled drowning in their own blood..
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Literally or figuratively?
Or even apocryphally? For that is not the person I see whom I talk to like this...
Or maybe I just don't know you enough to make that call...
But many others who do know you better have, right? They've always said how glad they are to have you as a friend... right?
But then, maybe even they only see you for the beautiful patterns of your lionfish frills without knowing of the venomous spines they hide...
Haaaaargh... my thoughts are like two-faced spinning coins, right now...
But I'd rather be friends with a frightened lionfish trying to protect herself, than with a pod of dolphins that actively go out and rape their weaker relatives...
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Rape...? RAPE? ...
I'm not so sure... if I like dolphins anymore..
Hm.. it might be.. have you tried to approach other frightened lionfish before..?
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Oh Pai... you never knew?
Well goddamn... I just opened up a colossal can of worms... alright, might as well go the full distance. *sigh*
Prepare to be scarred...
[link] Look at this little guy. He is a harbor porpoise. He's basically a smaller relative of the dolphins. And God DAMN is he frickin cute! Awwwwww, look at him following that guy's finger around like an adorable little puppy! You know he loves the attention. He just looks so damn curious, bless him. Donchya just wanna pick him outta the water and smooch him on his little cheeky-ass face and feed him a bucketful of squid? Awwwwww ain't he the cutest little thing the ocean ever shat out? Ain't he just sooooo goddamn frickin CUUUUUUUUUUUTE?!?!?
.........
I'm gonna rape that motherfucker to death.
Oh wait, sorry, I ain't; THESE guys are:
[link] - Killer dolphins baffle marine experts - Telegraph
[link] - Sexually frustrated dolphins go on murderous rampage - Grist
[link] - Killer Dolphins Slaying, Sexually Assaulting Porpoises In San Francisco - Huffington Post
[link] - Dolphins kill two porpoises in game of 'cat and mouse' - Telegraph (again)
Here's some footage of these cuntnuggets in action:
[link] - Bottlenose Dolphin kills baby porpoise
[link] - Bottlenose Dolphins Killing Harbor Porpoises in California
(Remember, these dolphins aren't fucking around with these porpoises; they're fucking them UP. Big time.)
And finally, an excerpt from a documentary which ties the crimes together:
[link] - Bottlenose Dolphins Kill Little Porpoises
You thought Flipper told you everything you oughta know about dolphins? THINK AGAIN. I'd rather be caught adrift surrounded by sharks than these infanticidal, sordid, serial-killing SHIT-HUMPERS.
You just can't make this stuff up, man...
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I feel like a frightened lionfish myself, except that all my spines have been hacked off... There's just squidgy fish meat here now...
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Oh... well.. then I guess humans aren't the only ones who are messed up...
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When you think about it, nature as a whole is a really bad egg... us included...
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Nature is nothing to be judged. It is as it is.
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Then neither are we. We are so many complementary and contradictory things that were all born of nature.
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Oh my lord...........
This is so brutal
You animated this so hauntingly. the strands, the veins, the heart..
My heart sank.. the blackened limbs and the piercing sound coming from the snapped neck.
Oh sister... those eyes ;_;
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I dont feel dead... but empty inside with a big hole in the middle of all.
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This hole that consumes all and dries it out to nothingness...
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I know the feeling. Nothing hurts more than when you can't feel anything.
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A feeling of nothingness... which makes me wonder what true nothingness would be..
and if this feeling is only holding us at mercy from it...
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oh.... i feel what you mean....i often feel like that too
so numb and yet so painful
like you cant feel anything but hollowing emptyness that carves at the roots of your soul, slicing away layer by layer.....
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