Heavy Metal Rain

The Rock Marathon of Secklerland. Székelyföldi Rockmaraton for the initiated people out there.

Every year, a group of very admirable people put together a festival based on rock and metal music. Hungarian rock and metal music, for the most part. Then all the metalheads from Transylvania and beyond gather there for a few days of nothing but drinking beer, banging girls, headbanging, getting rained on, sleeping in tents and generally having a good time.

I, too, have visited this festival a few times and while I have never stayed the full length of it, I still got quite the taste of what it is like to be a part of it.

This year I went to see three bands : Piramis, Pokolgép and Agregátor. Classic rock, heavy metal and gothic/death metal. Three very different genres, three bands I like a lot nontheless.

The weather there is quite fucked up. It usually rains in the afternoon, and because the stage is located at the bottom of the valley, all the water pours down there, creating a moshpit that even a mudwrestling championship could envy. This year however, when we got there, everything was pretty dry. Yay. I hoped I wouldnt have to be cleaning by boots for the next few days.

Met up with some friends, had a few beers [their treat] and then off we were to the first concert.

A dear friend came with me and he spent most of the concert with his arms wrapped around me and we sang the familiar tunes together. I was getting kind of nostalgic. But I won't get into that. The basic thing is that we managed to get front row, center, as thats is where I usually stand during concerts. Because he was there behind me I was well-protected from all the drunk, fat, huge men around me. Plus the music was not something people headbang to like madmen. It was okay.

Then it was time for Pokolgép. My friend left and I was there, front row center, before a heavy metal concert, alone, surrounded by - as I mentioned before - drunk, big, fat, ugly, old, possibly crazy people. I tried to look cool and calm and everything and thought 'Hey, this might not be so bad. My boots help me not to feel if I'm stepped on, the railing is here to help me hold on. What can go wrong?'

And then I waited and waited and waited for them to set up the stage, do the soundcheck and get ready in general.

Finally, the first few riffs came trembling down into my ears. And then the rain also started trembling down from the sky. Goodie.

And then the concert started with an excellent song to headbang to. Thats when the fun started. Everyone wanted to get to the front row, pushing and showing little me from side to side. Did I say oh eff this and go a few rows back?

Oh hell no.

I held on to the railing like one clings on to dear life, getting my hands twisted and my body squished. But I didnt give up my spot.

At some point a mountain of a man started pushing me again. I shouted at him asking what the hell his problem is ,he said I took his spot. I shouted something about his mother back at him, and then a bodyguard came and took him away. Sweet, sweet passive-agressiveness finally bore its fruits.

After this little incident I could finally enjoy the concert. The rain didn't stop for a second, oh no. It was pouring down, as if to the rythym of the guitars and to the beat of the drums. And my hair was getting really, really soaked.

Have you got any idea how much better it is to headbang with wet hair? Also, how much it hurts other people when I hit them with said hair?

It was just me, the band and a sea of people I didnt know. I felt like I owned the place. The songs were excellent. The sound was excellent. And then they started to play a slow song. I relaxed a bit and took my time to look around. The rain was illuminated by the powerful lights. Yellow, red, blue, green. Yellow, red, blue, green. As if all the elements were raining down on me. Molten gold, sweet blood, salty tears and bitter absinthe.


The atmosphere was something that can not be retold in words. The crowd slipped away, the band faded into obscurity, it was just me and the music and the rain. If there is such a thing as paradise, I think I just got a taste of it.

And people wonder why I want to pay to go see live concerts in stead of just listening to songs on the computer. Those people should really go see what the deal is about.

These are the things that make one feel alive. Or, at least, some of the things.

What's important is that I will not stop going to rock concerts until I am bound to a wheelchair or I am pretty much dead. Then again, who knows what concerts are held in the skies?

Human Village

Think that has something to do with a place dedicated to the love, friendship and care among humans? Possibly someplace that cherishes living, and possibly offers places to relax and to get more in touch with yourselves? No, the former is called Woodstock, the latter is called a spa.

No, what I am about to tell you is nothing related to anything 'good' for common sense. You see, Human Village is a village that is dedicated to the use and abuse of humans in every way possible.

I heard about it from some nonconformist friends of mine, who were part of the organizing committee, and, being the curious person that I am, decided to go and see what it was about. They volunteered their 8 year old son to walk me through the place. At first glance, it was like a bazaar...a lot of kiosks selling a variety of stuff. Upon further inspection, however, the things creeped me out. They sold things like jelly made of human flesh, clothes made of human skin, various muscles and bones preserved in different ways, and then there was a food court selling stuff for that little hungry cannibal inside us. Roast fingers on a stick, mmm-mmm.

Then there was an exposition that involved both dead and living bodies. The living bodies, either horribly mutilated and disfigured, or being tortured before our very eyes and screaming from horrible, horrible pain as various stuff pierced, cut, burnt, twisted and broke them. As I was staring at these people, wondering if this all was just a huge hoax trying to get media attention or if it was the real thing, the kid started tugging at my arm and telling me I have yet to see the coolest thing of them all.

He said there was this dome they called the fire arena. He said it's the best and most enjoyed form of entertainment here and that I'd absolutely have to see it. He also said that if someone would ask my name, I shouldn't tell them. Okay, that sounded eerie at best. So we go in and up some stairs. The air smelled of burnt hair and roast skin and napalm and had an oily-greasy texture, so thick and heavy you could almost cut it. At the top of the stairs there was a huge square-shaped platform from which you could view the events down below. Right now, no one was down there, but what I could see was a huge tub filled with burning embers, some sort of acid bath, a furnace that was red hot on the outside and then there was an array of napalm guns and flamethrowers on the wall. Okay, getting even eerier.

Then a man, if I could call him that, walked out on to the floor of the arena. He was tattooed all over, with a lot of subdermal implants made to look like horns on his body, wearing S&M gear. And then he spoke and everyone on the platform fell silent. He explained the rules : everyone in here has a chance to die today. One person will be called from the crowd and they would be forced to walk down to the arena, where they would endure anything the Fire Master, as he called himself, would want to do. He then raised a hand, pointed his finger in my general direction and said a name. Everyone in that area froze for a moment and then when they heard the name that wasn't theirs, they calmed down.

A lady of about 30 with short blonde hair was pointed. Her face looked terrified as she was lead down the stairs, into the arena. And then the torture began. He plucked some holes into her arms and legs with hot iron rods, then made her stand, sit and then lie in the bed of embers. Most of her skin was burnt off and she looked like she would faint soon, and then he opened the furnace and just put her in there and let her die while she screamed in agony. This was no special effect, no hoax, it was all real. And the crowd was loving every moment of it, their cheers of joy racing her shrieks of agony.

I gazed into their faces, disfigured from a strange kind of exstasy, they were all in some sort of trance, it seemed. I wanted to leave and as I was exiting, a guy came up to me and asked for my name. 'No', I screamed and tried to run away, but he got me by the arm and said 'No one who's enjoyed the Fire Arena can refuse to tell their name. It is a risk we all must assume. Say it, or face certain death. ' I froze for a second, then screamed 'Timothy. My name is Timothy.' And with that the crowd pushed me back towards the platform.

The Fire Master was saying 'Well then, for the continued pleasure of the lovely crowd, let's have another person down here!' They all cheered in unison as I watched him raise his hand and he pointed towards me, screaming 'TIMOTHY! Your red hair will most certainly please the fire'. The crowd let out a loud jeer as I was pushed down the stairs. Time slowed down, my whole life flashed before me as I stepped into the arena.

And then I woke up in a cold sweat, and it was very hot in my room. Damn, I forgot to open the window when I went to bed again.

The Price of Friendship

Yesterday, I had to go to my best friend's graduation ceremony. We had decided previously that we would not buy eachother expensive gifts, settling in stead for flowers. That being said, I was quite happy, since I usually have no idea what to buy for people. Flowers seemed like an easy thing to buy.

Some people suggested that I shouldn't waste money on flowers when I already had a bunch lying around in the house (which I got for my own graduation from people); but I said no, it would feel like cheating if I'd just do that. I am not going to sink that low.

And that is how I entered a flower shop before going to the ceremony. There were quite a few people in front of me so I took my time to look around and pick some flowers to be put in the bouquet. Purple, I needed purple, she likes purple. And then white, so as to keep the accent on the purple and to not make a parrot out of the lovely little gift.

I found a few flowers I thought would go nicely together, but I thought I'd rather ask the lady what she thought. As soon as I was up next, I told her I wanted a combination of purple and white flowers. And that is when she asked me 'Around how much do you intend to spend on the bouquet?'

I was left dumbfounded for a few moments. There was this lady I never met before, asking me to put a price on my friendship with a girl who most likely knows more about me than all other people I know combined. Of course, she didn't mean it like that. She didn't even know who the flowers were for. But that question took me to new metaphoric levels I never thought I could reach. If I say too little, she will consider me to be cheap, if I say too much, I'll be broke.
After pondering for another few seconds, I said a price, she frowned, she picked out the flowers, made a lovely little bouquet, handed it to me and I left the store in a half-zombie mode cause I was still in shock.

Even as I was sitting on the bus going to the event, I sat and pondered...I just had to put a price on our friendship, on the only thing more solid than steel in my world, the only thing that I am sure of and the only thing that was never based on anything financial. And I got bitch-slapped out of that world while buying flowers. And I think I actually felt bad for a moment there because I didnt say 'one bazillion dollars' to the lady. Even that would have been an underestimation. As a matter of fact, anything expressed in tangible things would be an underestimation.

After the ceremony was over, I walked up to her, gave her the pretty purple bouquet and gave her a big hug which she most likely didn't even notice cause her head had to be in a thousand places, just like mine was the day before, at my own graduation. I didnt mind though, since I know that deep inside she is always aware of the fact that I love her more than anything and that feeling gives her the sense of security many of us seek, but possibly never find in the world.

Scene fit for a movie

Like some of you might know, I had my prom two nights ago. The party was a blast, the place was stunning, the people were nice, the music was okay. I danced a lot. I drank a lot of red wine. No one minded. We all had an awesome time. At 3:30 the band sang their last song, we all wept like babies because we'll most likely not see each other all too often any more.

Then it was time to go home, but by the time I stopped crying, most of my classmates had already gone so I had no one from my class to go home with. That's when I saw my friend whom I've known for 12 years, still with her class, undecided what to do. After a bit of talking we decided to start walking home, along with a guy I like to call my best guy friend.

That was an interesting sight...we stopped for a few minutes to talk to a few friends who were waiting for their ride, i washed my face in the fountain in front of this high-end hotel and tore a small branch full of tiny roses from a bush and fumbled with it until I finally managed to put it into my hair.

We decided to start walking home and when we couldn't anymore, we'd take a cab in stead. The original plan was to go to this park to see the sunrise...but of course our feet hurt too much after all that dancing (and walking barefoot a mile or so on the concrete), so we took a cab home. Said bye to the girl and walked home with the guy as the first rays of the sun were already showing. Starting to get all movie-esque, right? Yep, it was.

He walked me home and before I went up the stairs, I told him to give me a kiss on the cheek because, even though we live like 3 minutes from eachother, god knows when we'll get to meet again cause we're both lazy asses. So he gave me a kiss on the cheek...and then, feeling inspired (actually, feeling that damn rose branch's tiny torns prick at my scalp), I took it out from my hair and as I started walking up the stairs I gave it to him. Just as our fingers touched, a very strong gust of wind blew by, ruffling my skirt and both our hairs and time froze for that second. Then he smiled and said 'Well, this was a scene even Twilight could envy.' And with that, the moment passed and I walked up the stairs and into my house. As soon as I locked the door, a terrible,great, big, HUGE thunderstorm started, with lightning flickering across the sky every-so-often, and then a great rain set in.

I couldnt help but wonder why mother nature got so wrathful all of a sudden. Was she pissed because I had screwed up 4 years of my life, not spending them like she intended me to? Was she crying with me, mourning the 'lost youth', or against me, in a fit of rage, because I hadnt done what I was supposed to, not even on this last night?
I have no clue, but all I know is that nature was really mirrorring my mood right then...because I felt happy, sad, angry, disappointed, complete and wrathful, all at the same time.

Welcome!

Hello, lovely people!

I hear you've signed up for an interesting and possibly mind-fucking trip a few clicks back.
What do you mean what trip? Oh, that's right, you have no clue as to what I have in store for you all.

Well, let me tell you a little story (it's not an actual story, but that (<) line sounds something like a psycho would say) : long, hard years have passed over me and I never felt write writing about them. I had no need to tell a bunch of strangers about stuff I think about as I saw absolutely no reason to do so. Now, however...I still think the same thing. But there is that little voice (one of them, anyway) inside my head telling me to write some stuff down, if not for anything else then for future references for myself. I have no idea how frequent updates will be, because I don't want to write about boring, gray everydays. The frequency of updates will all depend on what gives me reasons to write. You are welcome to read and comment to your hearts' desire. Be warned, though, most of my posts will contain the following:

a) a strange form of humor I pretty much call my way of living. or sarcasm for the unwashed masses. - I use a lot of it and even when writing about the most serious of topics I will most likely humor myself (and possibly you). This might come off as inappropriate or morbid. If you don't like it, search for the red x in the upper right corner now. Found it? good. Clickity-click it.

2) a high degree of personal stuff some of you might not fully understand - while I will try and write stuff that mostly everyone will understand, I wont explain absolutely everything. If you're wise enough, you can make the connections for yourself. If not, your loss.

III) (and possibly the most important) I will try and use the most impeccable grammar and punctuation possible. I detest people who start blogging and do so in the least exigent way.

With those being said, let our bedazzling journey begin!