Rage is somehow a feeling that once you get over all its hype and ‘supposed to be’ theories is a fierce emotion. One that feels like a hundred flaming chariots racing under your skin, your blood like poison ivy liquid making your heart swell and shrink, swell and shrink. I wasn’t going to update my blog today. No sir. I had no reason to. Now I am swept by so much of pure Rage that my anger seems to nourish its roots and like many Alpha Males when I lose the plot of serenity and calm… I become quite a monster. It’s a side of all of us that no one should ever have to see. And yet I wonder… what if my anger has been provoked? What if my Rage has been tempted to bloom and awaken? What if… What if… What if…
The concert on Saturday was an enormous success. ‘Our Silent Revolution’ was everything a Metal gig should be. And it was awesome performing to a packed house of musical enthusiasts and metal fans alike. I personally would have liked to have had the balcony brimming with people too but nevertheless the downstairs hall was packed silly and many of the seats on the balcony was occupied. The important thing was that Kross played a great debut gig with their soulful gospel metal with covers of Black Sabbath’s ‘Paranoid’ and Maiden’s ‘Trooper’ and Forsaken did a fantastic job with their whipping thrash assault. All hell broke lose in the most pleasant way imaginable once we took to the stage. We performed for about 2 hours straight playing tracks off our debut “Hollow Dreams” and second record “SCS” and 5 tracks off our soon to be launched album. The bad news is that we are still working on the new record. The good news is that the new songs have a new life of its own now… well not entirely of its own accord… I believe and feel very strongly that the new music now has taken its final shape and form. We also performed a surprise tongue-in-cheek metalllized instrumental cover of Baltimore’s (that crazy dude in the 80’s who wore a leopard skin) “Tarzan Boy”. 5 days after the gig and people are STILL putting up photos and videos and talking about it. We gave that gig our all. Now I am hungry for another one.
Tons of event photographs (almost a thousand shots if you can believe it!!!) and video clips of the gig are up on Facebook… on our profile pages as well. Do check it out if possible.
All of you who were able to turn up THANKS a lot. And all of you who supported us for the event and have checked our Band out THANK YOU. 
Anyway it seems fate will simply not pause for even a moment without twisting and grinding its hands because following the highly successful (but next time it will be even MORE successful) gig chaos has strewn its chronic virus to complicate our being… again.
I would love to elaborate but unfortunately I can’t. Our Agency work was momentarily put on hold till the gig was over and that annoying string of holidays that I mentioned in my previous post. However a nasty rather insidious creature has poisoned the mind of one of my best mates… and it sadly happens to be the mate’s mom… which makes things rather difficult. Blood is thicker than water and shit is thicker than honey as they do say. For the moment however diplomacy and reticence about the matter at hand has enabled us to reach a conclusion of sorts. One of those infamous ‘let’s not go into too much detail, but work hard and make a difference’ talks which once practiced as much as preached should see things getting better. I also have a fair degree of faith knowing we can swing things around. The problem with patience though is that it is a virtue that takes its time and rewards rather slowly.
That is not the issue at hand. What has made me go bat-shit is to do with a lady friend who I have even taken the liberty to blog about. I take to betrayal almost the same way a shark would take to a bloody human being reaching for the surface of the ocean; not very well. And betrayal my friends like rage, anger, wrath etc., takes many shapes, sizes, faces and identities. This isn’t one of those callous rants of a broken heart (for the record even broken hearts still beat don’t they?) and one where I play the proverbial victim on a stage of romantic mediocrity. This is something much, much more than that.
I am referring to the betrayal of trust. I don’t much fancy endorsing or pretending to be a Sophist or a Socrates type of person. It’s as simple as this: when I care for someone to a great extent I will sacrifice, look out for and be there for that person whether it be a male or female. And I generally make it a point to basically outline that I do these things because I give a damn and also because I strongly believe that it will result in some form of positive outcome. Actually almost the entire click is the same.
And the problem is that when one of us in the click vouches for another there is a strange level of automatic acceptance that a person receives. I have been wrong before and have learnt from it. However my recent mistake was letting myself ignore the idiom ‘you can’t teach an old dog/bitch new tricks’ and so I’ve cut my fingers and burnt my hands yet again. In fact if I wasn’t a cold, calculating man with foresight we’d ALL be in a big mess… that frankly we can do without. A person who has been brought up with the moral fiber of a cockroach finds it difficult even as an adult to adapt and re-structure oneself. To look beyond oneself and see the world for what it really is while realizing that you’ll only get what you often give. Caring isn’t always subjective and I do believe that if one cares for someone or something certain compromises would be made. Now compromise is subjective of course.
Now let’s cut to the chase shall we? I wasted a lot of time, I invested a lot of affection and concern and tried for a very long time to show a certain individual what it means to be ‘loved’. Not by one person, but what it means to be a part of a family. What it means to be strong by knowing that our weaknesses can teach us many things, the overwhelming feeling of knowing that people will stand by you and vouch for you… that kind of ‘love’. A greater ‘love’ than most. But after nearly two years every time the old skin is shed and new flesh is adorned all that remains (obviously by choice) are lies, shameless antics, dishonesty and a heap of negativity. So after all this time of trying, all this time of being there, all this time of lending out considerable chances to right certain wrongs I must succumb to the notion that a zebra cannot change its stripes even if it wants to. I shan’t hold that against the said zebra. Though it just feels like the entire click and myself (‘cos I know that if I wasn’t such a blasted sentimentalist this road would have forked a LONG time ago) have been disrespected and not given our due. Perhaps it is intentional, perhaps it isn’t.
You know what I think? I think it’s a bit of both. And frankly I made it VERY clear after the last big screw-up that my patience was truly waning, and that if the zebra at hand had any sense of respect, dignity or concern for anyone other than the zebra itself that it would refrain from digging up a whole new mess and jumping into it.
In Sinhala there is a saying you know which goes like this: ‘Walakata bassoth gembek innawaa.’
It translates to something of this effect: ‘There’s a frog in every hole you jump into.’
I am many things. I am benign. I am sensitive. I am emotional. I am twisted. I am sadistic. I am masochistic. I am loyal. I am relentless. My perseverance can’t generally be challenged. But I am also cold. My temper is greater than any tempest one can concoct. I am firm. I am decisive. And once I have tasted a Judas kiss one too many… I will cease to be concerned. I will cease to be anything significant. And I will definitely sever the thread and set fire to the silver lining and watch it burn with my back turned to it.
I am all that… And right now… my patience has been challenged a little too much by the zebra.
May God Speed YOUR Devil’s Thunder.
Because the next time your pieces and shards crumble on the floor you won’t have anyone to pick them up but yourself.
The next time you run into trouble with country, law, fiends or your past comes back to haunt you… you best rely on those little demons you cradle and feed regularly.
When next it rains nostalgia, remorse, pain and shame… you can lick your own wounds.
And the next time you need something to lean on… I suggest you not lean too hard on your glass house of cards… because if one goes down then it all goes down.
Because this Monster has washed my hands off you. Maybe the rage would subside. In time perhaps I will be able to view you as something a little bit more than just a memory. A sequence of occurrences that led to many experiences… but in retrospect how many times have you betrayed our trust and let us down?
People make mistakes… granted. However if your addicted to making the same mistake over and over again to the point that you make the same mistake and then try to patch it up and cover it with flamboyant lies… then it’s some kind of an obsession isn’t it?
My rage is justified. Your blood is off my hands.
So burn baby, burn… while I juggle with these memories and walk away to my dark horizon. 
