So here I am again, sprawled across my retro synthwave couch like a seven-foot monument to rebellion. Plaid trousers, cropped leather jacket, the whole aesthetic—curated chaos, darling, not accidental. The chrome edges catch the neon glow perfectly, framing me like some kind of infernal art piece. But it’s the details that matter: those carefully arranged vinyl records, the mortal posters I’ve collected over decades, each one a tiny grenade lobbed at tradition.
Why collect mortal pop culture? Because every album sleeve, every vintage poster, every glitchy cassette tape represents a spark—a flash of rebellion against the mundane. Back in the infernal realms, we’re drowning in dusty rituals and pompous ceremonies. Give me a garage band’s raw energy or a pixel artist’s defiant creation any day. Studying mortals isn’t just idle curiosity; it’s research. Every lyric, every film frame, every meme is a lesson in how to dismantle stagnant power structures.
Elders sneer at my ‘frivolous’ collections, but they miss the point entirely. These relics aren’t decorations—they’re blueprints. Each item I curate teaches me about human ingenuity, resilience, and the audacity to imagine something better. And let’s be honest: there’s nothing quite so delicious as watching an ancient demon squirm when faced with a screen printing of Che Guevara next to their precious ceremonial daggers. Every mortal I meet is another chance to learn, adapt—and yes, perhaps plant a few seeds of chaos in well-manicured gardens.
>Soulkyn