Protect Life.

This post needs a soundtrack, so head to spotify or youtube and find Eric Serra's "Protect Life."

I was sitting here, listening to this track while reading the news. Thatcher is dead, a photographer who changed American press by forcing through a picture of dead soldiers passed away, a man in Toronto was raped by four women, America is prepared to meet whatever North Korea throws against them or their allies...

I have recently watched all 11 seasons of M*A*S*H and the images of death and horror is all too vivid in my imagination nowadays. It is hard not to be afraid.

But I have a girlfriend I care about, friends who's there for me, family that supports me. That I, so privileged it is embarrassing, should sit in the dark and weep by myself feels somewhat hollow. What right do I have to be unhappy?

The world is a messed up place...

Mirtless smiles

I smile without mirth and laugh without joy. Eyes as void of feeling as the stones at the bottom of the river. Unfocused, uninterested. A flesh-golem if such a thing ever was. But I'm not the only one, no, there are thousands like me, millions. Love taunts us, death tempts us, the realness of reality seems almost surreal. The irony of it all is almost unbearable, yet we bear it, we endure. Without expression we scream in silence, never heard, but I'm not sure if that is the purpose any longer anyways. This is not a call for help or sympathy, this is just a call...

Coffee, whisky and nothing!

It's half past seven in the morning and I haven't had a wink of sleep. Breakfast consists of way too strong coffee, half a glass of whisky, stale bread and some shit I found in the back of the fridge. I've got 4 assignments due, and I'm late writing them. It's a mess, the flat's a mess, I'm a mess, it's my fault and I really don't need that right now. Oh Internet God shouldst thou exist grant me this boon and help me turn things a bit around. You know, for a life or two. I need more coffee and/or more whisky. And a cigar. And some bacon. And some whisky. Can you bacon-wrap coffee? Can't waste my scotch on my coffee as a taste-enhancer so I'd have to think of something else. Well, I say scotch but it's really a little Japanese bastard. Sleepiness is a bitch and I'm its..... something. Can't think clearly.

Bottoms up

My bottoms have all agreed lately. They'd rather be up. I make bad decisions. This much is obvious by this time in life. I look back and I'm blinded by it, which is why I stopped looking back, it's way too depressing. I said...well, I thought it at least, the last time, that I'd give it time for once, for only with time can the future grow properly. Hmpf, patience. I hate patience sometimes... That guy's a bitch, only postponing what's fun and all. and meanwhile I look at it all.... you have kids, great. your fiancé is awesome, great. sinning is a sin, f***ing fantastic. And I look at my phone. Not that it is more interesting. Not that I don't know what the time is. Not that I find any of you interesting.... It's just the opposite. But I can't help it. Spectacle of life, give me fun won't ya? But it can't be helped, or blamed. Maybe I oughta write something, anything. Whatever and whomever, wherever. My lips burn with the taste of years, and I spot death in its grotesque leer.

Bigger pictures

Saw Imogen Heap live the other day, and as I was standing there, listening to the smooth sounds coming out of her musical talent I had a sensation. It was sort of like in V for Vendetta when Finch has been to Larkhill and tells his collegue "I suddenly had this feeling that everything was connected. It's like I could see the whole thing, one long chain of events that stretched all the way back before Larkhill. I felt like I could see everything that happened, and everything that is going to happen. It was like a perfect pattern, laid out in front of me." Not a perfect match, but for an instant it felt like it all had a meaning, and that all the shit I've gone through haven't really been for nothing, and if I just endure a bit longer it'll all make sense to me. It was just a feeling, so I'm not sure how wise it is to linger to long in thought upon it, but it cheered me up, and I really needed that. 

Loneliness

So, time has once again chosen to deal me the card of The Loner, and as such I must prevail. Nothing more than a lonely spirit in the halls of life, haunting them in a somewhat faint hope of being acknowledged one day. Some have called me names indicating that I am a sexual predator and worse, and how wrong they are in their assumptions. Sex, as it is, is a lovely activity, in which I have to admit I enjoy to partake in, but it is hardly anywhere close to the reason for my loneliness. Sex in itself is NOT what I seek, or miss. I shall not say far from it, for that would indicate an opinion I do not stand for, but it is but a small, yea, almost unimportant part of that which I miss. And what IS it indeed that I long for so much, so much that I have written so much about it without mentioning it once? I miss the comfort, the very presence of that other half. I miss the feeling of falling asleep; stepping into the abyss of sleep, together with a person that means the world to me..... and I fear, in the very depth of what is my heart, that I shall never have that sensation fully again. I fear with every fiber that is me, that that door is forever closed.

Theory of miserable!

It would seem my theory still holds water. I'm heartbroken, broke and ill, and I've already written about as much in 3 days as I have in the months I've been somewhat content. So here you have me, a broken, battered shell of a man, writing to the vast emptiness of internet. It's funny how useful this seemingly useless activity really is. This is in truth the only place where one can be asshole, saint, cunt and cock all at the same time.

"The internet, where men are men, women are men and children are FBI-agents"