"I’ve always been drawn to things that are bigger than me. I guess I’ve been into all kinds of macro subjects ever since I was little. The thing that drew me into science was the fact that it was important to sustaining life. It was not so much about politics or religion, nor did it require us to perform spiritual rituals or sacrifice others. Well, that’s not what I thought it was about anyway, so I chose to become a doctor.
Instead, we could figure out how to measure things like purity or impurity if we wanted but some actual mass or substance had to exist. Masses, or any substance, or things that can be observed or measured are things I can wrap my head around better than things like faith or belief or other abstract things like magic or fantasy.
Science can definitely be anything but linear, but it all leads to some kind of greater understanding or some kind of betterment of ourselves, doesn’t it? If I were to come across some non-linear problem, it doesn’t hurt so much because I trust something will work out somewhere somehow. Isn’t that strange that I can believe this will happen when I am not normally very faith driven? But I feel this way because I know I can trust in things that are simply tried and true.
I feel I can trust myself, others, and my surroundings best when I am calm, careful, and perceptive. I feel this helps me to do away with primitive thinking, and do away with things like fear, irrational thinking, and negativity. I feel in this state I can almost do no wrong, usually, I like to believe in a way that is not condescending.
In this state of mind, I feel as though it is simply natural for me to try and try hundreds of times if I must to succeed. Science and my profession as a doctor encourages this in me, and everything I’ve come to learn I’ve learned through trial and error.
It is no small wonder that these methods that aren’t very easy for me to describe myself have led to so many wonderful discoveries and innovations that have truly changed the world for the better. Intelligent people from all around the world have done so many things right, you’d think a scientist would be perfect. But no, a doctor like me is just as flawed and human as everyone else.
But as long as people continue to look into the darkness, the darkness will always stare back at them, and henceforth it will continue to exist. Science does help to combat this perception amongst other things, though.
I feel like something should be done to correct this type of perception that lies within inside of each of us, but ultimately it comes down to each person him or herself to come to this conclusion or to see the light, so to speak. What is the light, though? I suppose I can only come up with the rather limited conclusion that it is anything but darkness.
I’ve always felt that the right way to encourage people to make the right choices for themselves is to treat them with as much compassion and understanding as possible. This sounds like a very simple amend to make, but I’ve found this to be one of the most difficult challenges I’ve faced in my life.
Also, I still fear often what will happen if I disappear? I, too, ultimately fear things that all humans fear. So, I am certain that fear is very much my one true non removable achilles heel that in a worst case scenario might very well one day mean the death of me.”
"Those who murder for pleasure tend to have very cruel fantasies—ones that would best be kept secret. Their fantasies are very sick and perverse perhaps because the individual had been treated in an abusive way when he or she was young. However, trauma doesn’t always come from abusing a child in those ways. Ironically, similar behavior can form within a child that did not receive enough affection or support from their parents or the people around them. With a little love, encouragement, and support, lies the difference between children realizing their dreams (whatever they might be) or having their dreams shattered by the time they grow up.
I suspect that the cruel things pleasure killers do to others may be a subconscious form of revenge against whomever or whatever caused their trauma. When they achieve their revenge, it gives them great pleasure to commit taboo against society and humanity in general. In my opinion, committing the greatest taboos for them resembles sexual pleasure too much to be a coincidence. These people have very little empathy for the person beneath them even if he or she died. To them, the person beneath them is almost the equivalent of an object, experiment, or guinea pig.
However, a killer that brainwashes is different even though they have traits in common with the pleasure killer. This type of killer doesn’t need to resort to touching people much when he or she can brainwash people to kill or do nearly anything for him or her. They can transform at just the right moment to create an illusion of empathy, compassion, or kindness to gain someone’s trust or even sympathy. In theory, they can do this over and over again even when such a thing would be pushing the boundaries of suspense of disbelief.
Although, their illusions only do so much as it is the victim whom chooses to come close enough or stay at a distance, but still there are plenty of ways to lie, manipulate, and control his or her behavior without their knowing. Perhaps if a victim manages to see through the things that don’t seem right enough times, they might be able to get away alive. However, just like Murphy’s law dictates, anything can and will go wrong if they are not careful.
Just like preparing for a tornado, every little thing he or she can use to protect him or herself can be the difference between staying alive and dying. Who wants to know how bad it can get before things get better? It would be best to stay out of something so dangerous at all costs, but alas, when it comes to the mother of vengeance and destruction someone ends up seeing it. What ungodly things happen then?
Well, there’s the funny thing, who knows? The killer might suddenly grow a conscience at an ungodly moment later on in life even after doing so many taboo things. But the infamous question remains if they were going to grow a conscience, why didn’t they stop? It is also possible that maybe they will remain in denial of their actions forever. What if the killer has no conscience or humanity, would that then mean he or she is the devil? Except I don’t believe that devils exist in this world, and there isn’t anybody whom can’t be caught.”
(This is a true story that *I being the tumblr page owner* did not write. I am merely fond of this unusual but poignant vision the founder of Penguin Cafe Orchestra had. This story and the mp3 song reminds me of the tender moment when a bird perched on Tenma’s arm.)
The PCO formed in the mind of Simon Jeffes as a result of a dream-like vision he experienced during a severe bout of food poisoning in the South of France during the Summer of 1972. Simon retold the story often. This was how he remembered it in 1988, just before the orchestra played their first gig in LA.
“I was laying in bed delirious, sort of hallucinating for about 24 hours. I had this one vision in my mind of a place that was like the ark of buildings, like a modern hotel, with all these rooms made of concrete. There was an electronic eye which scanned everything. In one room you had a couple that were making love, but lovelessly. It was cold sex with books and gadgets and what have you. In another room there was somebody just looking at himself in the mirror, just obsessed with himself. In another room there was a musician with a bank of synthesisers, wearing headphones, and there was no sound. This was a very terrible, bleak place. Everybody was taken up with self-interested activity which kept them looped in on themselves. It wasn’t like they were prisoners, they were all active, but only within themselves. And that kept them from being a problem or a threat to the cold order represented by the eye. A couple of days later I was on the beach sunbathing and suddenly a poem popped into my head. It started out ‘I am the proprietor of the Penguin Cafe, I will tell you things at random’ and it went on about how the quality of randomness, spontaneity, surprise, unexpectedness and irrationality in our lives is a very precious thing. And if you suppress that to have a nice orderly life, you kill off what’s most important. Whereas in the Penguin Cafe your unconscious can just be. It’s acceptable there, and that’s how everybody is. There is an acceptance there that has to do with living the present with no fear in ourselves.”
Towards the end of his career Jeffes’s direction changed. He moved from London to Somerset with his close companion and partner Helen Liebmann and built a new studio. Shortly afterwards he fell ill with an inoperable brain tumour (I wonder if Dr. Tenma were real, then would this inoperable brain tumor be operable? Perhaps not.) and in December 1997 he died. Sometimes tragic events can only be spoken of in platitudes. It is quite true that Simon Jeffes lives on in his music. It is also true that the Penguin Café is an imaginary but necessary place which everybody with an ounce of spirit ought to invent for themselves.
"I do not come from a dark origin or a dark place anymore. I am the odd one half because somehow I made it out of a dark place and survived the same thing over and over. No one managed to come to the rescue. Only we seemed to exist in this fairytale and no body else did. We were all alone, so how could anyone find us? If someone did find us, I wanted to run instead of stay because what if it were a monster? However, when I was put in an orphanage named Kinderheim 511, I felt there was some likeness between the others and me. I wanted to remain like myself, I didn’t want to forget my sister, and I wanted to like my peers until they killed each other, of course.
Unfortunately, all of my peers’ consciences must have been begging to be let free from a dark place within. I could not have dreamt this vision without everyone being alike. I saw that there was a flaw in this plan of darkness, and I wanted to fix it to my liking. I wanted to see how they would react if I inserted my own plan into their minds like a cross-current. However, when these consciences were set free by me, they consumed everything precisely like a wild fire. It was also like creating a freak wave. It did so much damage it was overwhelming and tragic. Was that what I was part of an experiment designed to kill?
For a long time since, I thought there was a monster inside of me. In the far future, I wondered from time to time about the people I hired to work for me what were they? Could I perhaps possess an ideal side to myself that was desired in this world or was there still a monster inside? I always wanted to be them, since they were perfect and efficient. They were tools, yes. They died in horrible ways, yes. However, I both loved and hated these people, since they were fascinating and loyal to me. You could throw a brick at their faces, and they would say, “That was wonderful, thank you, sir.” The ones who were not like this were unwelcome. I wanted to teach them an interesting lesson, but maybe it would be void or useless. Were these extraneous ones that did not follow me welcome or were they not welcome? Many times I did not know.
In my world, it is filled with the light and happiness of those who have everything, know everything, and love everything. The light is supposed to be designed to eradicate the shames and lies. In my world, people cannot be wrong, and humans can become anything they want. I just happen to be like the nameless monster, but I have a plan of wonderful ecstasy and delusion. You just have to listen to what I hear, and see what I see. As I’ve told others before, the hardest part comes after you’ve taken over the world. I was a failed experiment when I died, but I was brought back to life.”
"You get that pistol right in between that person’s eyes, and you ask him, ‘Do you have any final words before you go to jail? You just had to do things the hard way, didn’t you? Hitting and abusing a woman makes you feel tough, eh? If you were a real man, you’d never hurt a woman or another individual again.
Yeah, you might as well be thrown behind bars for good, since the alternative would be everyone in town kicking your sorry arse out, anyway. I would make sure your life would be a living hell ‘till you learned your lesson, you ignorant bastard. All lives are supposed to be equal. Now dance to the song ‘Pow! To the People’ Before you get shot by me, you clown.
I’m here to demonstrate that nice guys don’t always finish last. Except the sad thing is…they do, so you won’t be seeing no more nice guy from me. No, sir, you won’t get any sympathies from me if you’re a criminal.’ That’s what I’d do for someone like you if someone like you got mistreated, ma’am. The only thing I wanted to do ever since I was a kid was fight crime, and so many years later I finally became a rookie detective.”
"Did you forget about me, dear readers and viewers?
My name was (names did not matter). I was a student that studied Latin at a University in Munich, Germany. I studied lots, and did lots of hard work because I was serious about my studies. I did not care very much about the “Bayern Vampire” or the “Vampire of Bavaria” myths behind Hans Georg Schubert or his money or so I thought. Perhaps, I felt troubled that I did not exude as much passion for Latin as others, especially the new student called “Friday Boy.”
Sometimes I wondered why I was chosen for this Latin reading group, after all? I enjoyed reading very much, and I was a fairly good, sociable guy if I wanted to be. Certainly, I did want to be. For instance, I had a place I liked to go to on top of a roof that I went to with “Friday Boy” and Karl at separate times—both of whom were cool fellas that I didn’t know very well.
I did well at scholarly things because I naturally needed something to sink into. Learning made me appear calm, cool, focused, and collected, but sometimes lazy distractions made things hard (so no surprises there). I was not jealous that Latin, Margot Langer, and his large classical book collection was all Schubert seemed to care about and not me. Of course not, I was merely supposed act like I knew what to do for this man to make him happy.
However, I believed that this man really used to think he was immortal. I felt he was terrible, selfish, rich, and egoistic rather than an honest man appreciative of the beauty he claimed was inside of what I read him. I didn’t know why, but sometimes reading for Schubert stirred me and sometimes it disgusted me inside, but usually I tried not to think about it nor did I care.
Except, more and more, I had to wonder if I was not very thoughtful or soulful at all. Maybe, I really was filled with negative or evil thoughts and such. I believed I was currently struggling with many things in life because I had made a mistake, and now I would have to pay the price dearly. I began to feel intense doubt, guilt, and shame. I felt I had done the most shameful and unforgivable thing of all. I had impersonated someone I was not. All of a sudden, I feared I had done something much worse than what this man had ever done.
How did I come to this point in life? I chose to do stupid things, say stupid things, feel stupid things—that was all my fault and no one else’s—but this was the mother of all stupid things I could have chosen to agree to. Why did it seem too easy to lie, and take advantage of this rich blind old man for being alone? Who did I decide to do this for really? For what selfish end or purpose?
(Individual whose name or one final letter did not matter.)”