Springtime for…


Marius and Norway. Complete with snow. Inspiring indeed.

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want a free cd, free tshirt and other good merch?

step right up!

the only thing you need to do is comment on this post, with a link or upload of a short snippet of a sound.

Or, use soundcloud
Send me your sounds

i’ll make a song out of it(using ONLY the snippet), and upload it to soundcloud.

(the sound snippet could be ANYTHING. a whale? sure. a baby laughing? hit me! the appealing sounds of you taking a dump? why the fuck not?)

then you all can vote.

the one who provided the sound for the track with the most votes will win.






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first music video


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new cover art for tetranagrammaton

some of you might remember my new album update, where I showed you the cover art.

if not, read it here.

however, I was not really satisfied, so I asked the extremely talented (and funny) Ari Bach if he wanted to make the cover.

he said yes.

and it turned out fantastic!


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insomnia. cats.

this is the story all about how my night got flipped, turned upside down.
all because of two cats.
rather than tell you about it, i’ll let awful phone pictures taken with strong flash do the telling.

oldest cat asleep by my side just before I fall asleep myself.

youngest cat comes to wash old cat, thus waking me up

feels good, doesn’t it?

and this is how old cat repays young cat

but young cat does not care about being savagely neck-bitten, and continues her washing of old cat

old cat does not approve, and transformes into the fat god cathulhu

a truce is formed

“for the love of tuna, stop being paparazzi on us, you damn human!”


thus ended my sleep cycle for this night.


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a short story.

[this is the first short story (in english at least) that I have finished in many years. I know it’s not much, but I thought I’d share it anyway. I could not come up with a title for it, so please give suggestions. if I choose one of your suggestions, I will give you a free cd. read and enjoy]

It was cold when I woke up. I was standing outside, in the snow, wearing only my pajamas. Had I been sleepwalking? It seemed improbable, as I had never sleepwalked before. How perfectly weird. I came to my senses and went back inside to get some warmth into my feet, as they were rapidly turning blue. As I sat down with aforementioned blue feet in a tub of hot water, the lights went out. I walked unsteadily to the fuse box. Nothing wrong there. Must be a power outage in the neighborhood, I thought and went back to the hot water tub and the fireplace and the coffee and the blankets.

And I woke up outside again. Excellent, I thought. I’m apparently pining for a serious case of gangrene. But, weirdly, I did not feel very cold at all. Hypothermia, that’s all I need right now. Hopefully I’ll live until morning if I get inside and lock all the doors and hide the keys.

Then things started to get weird. Well, weirder. I had turned towards my house, and it was gone, the only hint of it ever having been there was the snowless patch of ground in a rough house shape. I almost panicked, until I realized that I probably was dreaming. So I did what I usually would do when I am having a lucid dream; I tried to fly. I love flying and I have near perfected my in-dream flying skills. I unfolded my arms, jumped into the cold night air, and promptly landed face first in the snow. What the flying fuck I thought. What the hell is this shitty fucking dream where I cannot even fly properly? I cursed loudly and got up, looking around me. I could not help but to catch a glimpse of the starry sky, and what seemed like some of the bigger stars winking at me. Of course I took this as a great personal insult and started shouting at them. “Stop that! This is not funny!” Obviously, I was going completely mad. Talking to stars is a clear indicator of insanity, even if you are dreaming.

“You are not going mad, Mr. Mason. I do think you misinterpret the stars’ intentions, however,” a voice said behind me. What the fuck? Where did that voice come from? I turned wildly around and saw nothing at all out of the ordinary, missing house notwithstanding. “Where the hell are you? WHO the hell are you?” I shouted, for some reason I was scared shitless. This dream was starting to go on my nerves. “I’m right here, Mr. Mason,” the voice said. It was uncomfortably close now. I turned toward where it had come from and saw a flicker of a shadow beneath a tree. Forcing myself not to run away, I kept looking and the shadow seemed to grow more solid, and soon even a pair of eyes appeared. And what eyes! They were huge, almond shaped, and entirely black. I found myself mesmerized by them, and for a split second I saw something in them, a depth and time span that made me dizzy with perspective. Started falling to the ground, but the shadow grabbed me and kept me standing. For a shadow, it was strangely corporeal.  It spoke again; “Careful there, Mr. Mason. Do not be afraid.” “H-how do you know my name? Who are you? For that matter, what are you?” I said with a shaking voice. As it let go of me, I saw that the shadow had taken shape now, and I could make out its face rather well. It was completely alien, vaguely elongated, and pale, to the point of being as white as the snow we were standing on. And with the aforementioned eyes, and a red mouth, it reminded me somehow of an owl. It spoke again, smiling at me. It had a beautiful voice, but with a strange timbre. “Mr. Mason, I am not a monster, nor am I evil.  I am your friend, Mr. Mason, and I am here to show you things both strange and wonderful.” Its voice was alluring, and full of temptation. I opened my mouth but it gave me a look, so I shut up and let it speak. “I shall take you on a journey to my home on the other side of the stars. Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Mason, for not everyone of your kind gets a chance to peer into the vastness of creation, into the Eyes of the Creator Himself. Mr. Mason, will you follow me?” What? This dream is becoming stranger by the minute. I was absolutely flabbergasted, and even though my rational mind said that this was a prankster of the highest order, I kept convincing myself that this was all a dream. Besides, the offer was really tempting, and I believed this weird dream thing. “Ok,” I said. “Considering that this is a dream, I will assume that you are not pulling my leg. I will also assume that you do, in fact, live on the other side of the stars. But how does one go there? Even in this dream I imagine that it would take a billion years. I don’t want to wake up on a dead planet.” As I stopped talking, I wondered why I kept thinking that this dream would affect my waking life, but before I could get a chance to sort it out in my head, the thing spoke. “Mr. Mason, this is no dream. You are awake. Perhaps even more awake than you have ever been before. Besides, I am not an ‘it’, but rather a ‘she’, but from a slightly different race than your own. And before you panic, I can read only some of your thoughts, the ones that are loudly directed at me.” It, I mean, she stepped out of the dark beneath the tree and I could see her more clearly. She was a tall and slender, yet curvaceous thing. She also had long, dark hair, which matched her owl-like face really well. “The owls are not what they seem,” I said, and started giggling at my silly reference. I still felt like I was dreaming, I guess. “You are quite correct, Mr. Mason,” she said. “The owls are of Our Kind. They are not what they seem to humans at all. But do not worry about that now, for it is of little importance at this time.” I accepted silently, and she took my hand and simply said, “Let’s go”.

I awoke in my bed by the sound of my phone ringing furiously in the living room. Half asleep, I got up and answered it. “Yes what,” I mumbled. “Where the buttfuck have you been you lazy son of a goddamn two dollar hooker?” It was my friend James. Had I missed something? I didn’t think so, and told him this. “Fuck, are you becoming senile? We were supposed to hit the poker table last night! I swear, one of these days I’ll have a heart episode and it will be your motherfucking fault!” “Wait what?” I said. “Poker night is on Friday! It’s only Thursday today! Fucking ass-bandit! Stop waking me up for silly pranks like this!” I’m positive I heard his brain crack at this point. “What the bedazzled donkey testicles are you talking about? Look at your fucking computer calendar and tell me it isn’t Saturday! Thursday? Jesus monkeyfucking Christ. You’re losing it. I’ll be forced to put you down like a rabid mongoose.” I hung up before he could continue his ranting, and I disconnected the telephone. The calendar definitely said Saturday. I had missed to entire days. But how?

Then I started remembering the strange Wednesday night. The owl-faced woman from outer space. I sat down on the sofa, face firmly planted in my hands. What had happened after she took my hand? Had I been drugged? And why had I acted so damn irrationally? I had barely been coherent when speaking to her, and I had gone from being a giggling school girl to being deathly afraid and back in less than a second. I figured she must have been controlling my emotions somehow. My memory started coming back to me, albeit only in fragments. To this very day I cannot remember clearly what happened. But what I do remember has changed me.

This is what I am able to recall:

We were, still hand in hand, travelling across the vastness of space at an unimaginable speed. Entire galaxies sped by us like they were trees and we were sitting on a train. We arrived after a time at something that resembled a huge castle floating in space. There was a huge room filled with beings of my ‘escort’s’ race and even a few humans. I was greeted by one of the Owl people. Since he was clearly much older than the rest of the people I could see, I assumed he was some sort of leader, or elder. “Welcome to the abode of the Gods, Mr. Mason. You’ll soon see that you do already know many of us from your dreams.” He laughed and walked away. I looked at my ‘escort’, but she just smiled and said that all will be clear in due time. The next thing I remember is a grand ritual being performed in a completely unfamiliar (to me) language. It seemed ancient and, for some reason, original, like all rituals had been modeled on this one. The chanting, dancing and shouting was ecstatic in nature, and surely enough it climaxed in an orgy of sorts. At the end of the ritual, I felt like I was losing myself. It felt like I was transported out of myself, and then I saw the Eye of the Creator.

And that is all I remember.

Never again will I be able to look upon the stars without an eternal love for Creation itself.


Filed under stories

afternoon of the short knife

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