Showing posts with label Alienation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alienation. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Hope

Spider Jerusalem. My kind of hero.
I'm fed up with Facebook. I follow people who regularly upload posts on animals that need help, need to be adopted or have been abused, and seriously, I am sick to my heart. I can't. I simply can't. I too feed stray animals and it is disastrous for my economical situation. But to see how sick and disgusting human beings are and what they are capable of, it makes me want to go nuclear on the whole planet. We drug our feet in the ashes of a post apocalyptic era, our noses stuck in our expensive gadgets, our brains too busy with the next purchase to notice the pain of this world. We're insatiable attention gluttons gobbling down misinformation and advertisement, dead in our hearts and a plague to the world. We're despicable. I want to watch the entire planet burn, I want all humans dead.

And then...

And then I come across a work of art, or a piece of music, or a performance that makes my heart stop. And I decide that since we're capable of such beauty, then perhaps we should live a little longer. Maybe we should be spared. I'm not so sure, but I don't have the means of ending the planet anyway. For which I am grateful. The temptation might have proved too much to bear.

I was talking to a friend a few days ago and she said to me I make a huge difference in the lives of many, including her own. Do I make a difference? I have no fucking idea. Still, it was sweet of her to feel this way and tell me. She makes a whole lot of difference to me, because of her integrity and kindness. 

I think this world can't handle integrity and kindness. This entire dimension has been dumbed down to the point of the 'achievements' of our species competing on what is going to kill us first; pure incompetence, overwhelming pollution or planned Armageddon. Everyone strives to be more ego-centered than everyone else, with politicians and corporations leading the parade of parasites and the entire human population following suit like the fucking rats in the fairy tale of the Pied Piper. Lemmings with iPhones and Instagram accounts that live for the next follower and the next like and the next petty drama. I feel I'm an alien life form stranded on the Ga-Ga Idiot planet and condemned to put up with the natives for the rest of my life, with no hope of escaping. 

And then...

And then I re-read my favourite books and comics and once more listen to the music I love. And tell myself, "Don't give up. There is hope."

Please keep that hope alive by keeping those you love safe and happy. I don't care if the one you love is a person, pet, potted plant or just yourself. Keep them safe and happy. It makes all the difference in the world, or so I am told.

Monday, August 08, 2016

Decision time (with lots of f*cks)

I have a brain like an artichoke right now, so maybe writing a blog post is not a good idea. But to hell with it. I have made up my mind about stuff. Here are my decisions.


One, I won't spend any more time thinking  about the fuckwads who have been nasty or mean to me. It's pointless and it makes me angry. Anger is something I have so much of I can open an export company, or give my surplus to those in need. So, no more thinking about those that used to be friends, lovers, penpals, whatever the fuckity fuck ever. It's over. It's dead. It belongs to the past. *middle finger raised in solemn salutation* Good riddance to bad luck.


Two, I won't spend any more time thinking about where I am supposed to be versus to where I am now. It makes me depressed and I honestly can't deal with it. Plus it is as pointless as #1. I can't do anything about it. Maybe I don't care enough, maybe I am not trying enough, maybe this reality is a rigged simulation run by a type IV Kardashev scale civilisation and no matter how much I try, it doesn't and won't respond to my efforts. In any case, no can do, and that's that.

It is indeed. But I don't have the cure for others. I can only help myself.
Three, I can't spend a second more worrying about the fate of humanity, the situation of the world, the pollution, poverty, human trafficking, war, violence against women and so on. I refuse to give more time and energy to that gigantic clusterfuck of monstrosities. I didn't create those situations and consequently I can't solve them and refuse to dwell on them. The injustice of the situation makes me sick with rage. It makes me yell at the heavens at unorthodox hours when everyone is sleeping, and takes away the joy of living. So I will put my efforts in what I can do, however pitifully small that may be, and sign petitions, and feed my stray cats and take care of my friends. The rest, no way Jose. I can't, and it is not my responsibility. 


Four, I will follow the advice of a dear friend. Stand your ground, stick to your own. I know who "my own" are. They are there for me. They may not have solutions to my problems, but they are happy to discuss books, movies, series and every day life with me. They call, they write, they make me laugh, they listen. This is more than most people have and I don't take it for granted.

Five, I will floss more often. 

There. That's it. Now, here is something pretty with burnt orange eyes. You are welcome.

Michael Tintiuc. Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/BIvlXOChVLp/

Tuesday, March 08, 2016

The Book of Life

Assassin's Creed: Syndicate

I am still angry at you. I want to make you understand. I want to shake you and yell at you. But even if I did, you wouldn't understand. You never did understand, not even when I thought we were close, let alone now. And why should I make you understand? It's not my responsibility to make anyone understand. 

Sometimes I wish that the people who mistreated me would become aware of their mistakes and sorely regret their decisions. I would love to see them looking for me and not finding me. But this is wishful thinking. Humans are too self-involved and egotistical to realise there are things beyond their self-indulging mind games and petty interests. The sad fact of this life is that we're unappreciated by others, and they never realise their mistakes. Time passes, life moves on, and none of these people have the guts to come and apologise, or say they understood, or they are sorry. If they had the balls to admit such sentiments they wouldn't have treated us so shitty in the first place. Soon the relationship or friendship is a memory, yet another page torn off the book of Life and thrown into the fire. Humans go on, as blind and ignorant as always, life goes on, nothing changes, nothing is ever lost. Except maybe for a few days, weeks, years, lives, centuries, and it's still nothing on a cosmic scale. We're ants reproducing on a speck of dust in a vast, vast universe, and it doesn't really matter, and it never will. Evolution matters and evolution has no winners and no famous authors, no celebrities and no point. Its only point is continuation of life itself, orgiastic expression in myriads of forms and countless colours, in ways I cannot begin to perceive or imagine with my humble mind.

It all matters. It's all completely futile. Writing here is futile. Not writing, when I can write and so many others can't, is hybris. The planet will continue, with or without me on it, with or without my writings on it. It doesn't matter to anyone except me that I am awake instead of sleeping and writing here instead of resting. It makes no discernible difference either way.

I miss Virve. I miss her fiercely. Almost two years since her passing. And still life goes on regardless of how I feel, what I do or don't do. When I am not angry, I am sad. When I am not sad, I drag my feet from one chore to the next. And sometimes, just sometimes, I am happy without needing anything besides the fact I am alive and breathing and healthy. I see a blind person, or a drowned infant, and understand how many things I take for granted.

Won't this pain ever cease? Won't this suffering end? Does it ever end? I guess it does end, when we cross over and there are no more words. But until then, I am here and I am writing. For good or for ill, and until I can no longer write.

Friday, February 19, 2016

Consequences

"We need to talk about Kevin" (2011)
The moon is yellow and not full yet, and the sky is dull and murky, like thick pearly dust stirred in inky water. The clouds are sickly white tufts and the stars are nowhere in sight.
The heavens seem to press down on me tonight.
I count stories of my life that never happened, or were interrupted before they run their course.
One, two, three, four, five, six... Maybe even more.
A night of counting wasted chances.
I embrace a book and smile at my inability to change the course of the river.
I pray to Lilith.
Second born, beloved, consort of the first born, three-natured, bridge and divider, mother and destroyer, take me by the hand. Come.
I pray to Hecate.
Goddess supreme, heavenly, earthly and chthonic, mother of horrors and magic, protectress, enchantress, she of the golden tongue, merciful one, terrible one, your horrors are no strangers to me. Come.
I pray to Kali.
Goddess of death and destruction, she of the terrible wrath, invincible, unstoppable, destroyer of the ego, blood-drinker, demon-slayer, mother supreme, fight by my side, lick my wounds and don't let me hold back from what has to be done. Come.
I pray to the Heart.
Home of my heart, heart of my home, heart of the innermost within and without, don't let me stray from your path. I serve you with everything I have; let everything I do be in your service.
I am what I am.
Everything serves the Heart.

I watched 'We need to talk about Kevin', and it was similar to the dark, oppressive, stifling night sky; a voyage through terror and delirium. The boy was a sociopath, he was insane through and through, but I know how he felt. I know why he wanted to kill. In another place, another era, such a young man would have been an invaluable warrior, but now? The only place we have for such people nowadays is prison, or an asylum built like a prison. And I smile. I don't know if I understand this character because my empathy is so high or because I see his blood thirst mirrored in me. I do know I am too much of a control freak to let that side of me roam free, and there is always the safe channel of writing about it. But I also know I understand. I fully understand, and I am not ashamed of that side. If anything, I love and embrace it.

Some nights I wish I was someone else, or even better, no-one at all.

Goodnight.


Thursday, August 20, 2015

Lacrimosa



 

There is no changing what we are.
There is no changing what we feel. Or is there? 

I am struggling inside my mind, layers upon layers of fetters and conditioning.
My mind resides inside a physical form that places more fetters around my existence.
My body exists inside a society, a preexistent construction that has its own rules and ideas, bringing more fetters in the equation.
My society is a country presently entrapped in a state of economical war with other countries, and I have no future to look forward to, no way to realise my dreams.
As if all the fetters inside weren’t enough, I am also trapped outside and there is no place to run to. I am stranded on a hostile planet with no escape. 

There is nothing for me here. Only the brief repose of reading a book, watching a movie, writing, talking to a friend, when time ceases to exist and that pain abates for a little while.

You tell me to keep on struggling, that better days will come, that this is not all that is, and there is hope.

Maybe there is. But right now all I see is darkness. I have struggled with all those fetters for years, and more fetters come to replace those I have removed and broken with so much effort. I feel buried under them. I cannot breathe. I keep pushing on, blind, broken, angry, furious with rage. I am blind rage and nothing more. Rage is the only thing remaining to fuel me. Sadness does not count.

There is so much blood on my hands, such a burden on my soul. This time I did not kill anyone. This lifetime I played by the rules, and gained a room with a view in prison.

I want out. I want to live. I want even the pretence of living. I want something I cannot have. I want bliss, and the brief moments I have experienced it make me even sadder for knowing what I miss. I want out of here. Out of this fucking planet. Out of this existence. Everything hurts. Every single thing I see cuts me and burns me and hurts me. I am an exposed nerve, and no matter how well I hide, if I make the mistake of walking out and looking at anything else than the trees, something appears to hurt me. From the piece of litter I see on the ground to the contemptuous glance a passerby gives to another passerby, everything hurts and overwhelms me. I am exhausted. I want to rest. I don’t understand anything anymore. I don’t know what I am doing wrong. Maybe this world isn’t for me. Maybe I am not made for this world. Maybe it was all a mistake.

I just want to rest. I want to close my eyes and sleep and never wake up again. I am so tired. So sick of struggling. So sick of fighting to gain what others take for granted. Everything is a struggle and a battle and I am so disgusted of existing just to suffer and flail and achieve nothing.

I want to do nothing. But there is so much I need to do. From mundane tasks to personal projects, there is so much I need to do. And if I open the door and step out of this life, even if something good happens I won’t be there to see it.

That’s what I tell myself and persuade her not to do anything stupid.

I don’t know for how long this will keep me here.
I don’t know how much time I have left before I break completely and don’t care anymore.
For today, it is enough. Tomorrow is another struggle.
One day at a time. One breath at a time.
We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
That’s my girl.

Wednesday, June 05, 2013

Yahoo, relationships, and the hermit's point of view.


It's  been five days that I have no access to my primary email account, the one I have registered for almost all social sites I use. Facebook, this blog, bookmooch, thealterium, twitter, tumblr, vistaprint and youtube are connected to it (to name the majority). If I permanently lose access to that account I have a lot of work ahead of me. It's not going to be fun. Let's hope the technicians will be able to fix whatever is wrong with it because I am not the only one who has a problem from what they say.

Sometimes I wonder why we all do what we hate being done to us, like judging.
And sometimes I don't think. Judging is so tightly woven into human nature that it's impossible to avoid.

I've been in a void of partly my own choice. Away from erotic relationships.
I don't want to change that.
It's much like unlearning to eat candy. If you unlearn it, you no longer feel the craving for it from a point onwards.
It's not like I feel no craving.
I just don't want to bother with all that ensue a relationship and intimacy with another person. It's not worth it. I am tired of the trial and error process relationships are. I want to keep my quiet, for the rest of my life if possible.  Not bother what this and that and the other means.
I look around me. I am not blind. Erotic relationships have an expiry date. Those that stay with the other person even after the interest has died out are pretty much buried alive. They stay because they have a child, or joined bank accounts, or they are afraid, or whatever really.
Is any of that a valid reason to stay with a person for the rest of your life? Or is it better to stay with one person and cheat on them because you still want to have interesting sex?
We never really get to know anyone. People are like moons, with a hidden side.
We always think we know others and ourselves.
In reality we know shit.
We make relationships with strangers that remain strangers throughout and even after the end of the relationship.
And how surprised we are when we find out we knew nothing about them and never found out anything, even after years.
All this makes me sick.
There must be a way I can play by different rules, or failing that, not play at all.
I am seeing strange dreams.
I always see strange dreams.
I don't want to do what any of the rest of you do.
I want to play with your perception of reality.
I want to fuck with you and fuck off.
And I am outta here.