Suicide, blasphemy and make-believe.
Is it time to revolt yet?

Sunday, March 08, 2009

"Stood in firelight, sweltering. Bloodstain on chest like map of violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night.

Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else.

Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It’s us. Only us. Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world.

Was Rorschach.

Does that answer your Questions, Doctor?"

Simply put, whatever possible they could film, they did. But understand, Watchmen is goddamn un-film-able. Too many concurrent ongoing concepts, layers weaved into each other, too beautifully created, such a well-planned mess in a perfect fit. To all the skeptical comic book geeks out there that perceive Watchmen the movie as the anti-christ, by now I'm sure you already understand the art of comics can never be recorded on film but sometimes, it's also vice versa. Be the one that watches the Watchmen. You need balls in attempting this film production. Kudos to Synder.