Empty Days

Friday, July 16, 2004



Microwars.

In the microclimate of my micro-life I've scored a micro-victory. What do I do? I live like a fish in the tank - practically chained to a few square miles of space. All I've got is my flat, my neighbourhood, not even the city - I've had it with this town.

So what do I do? I fight for my lebensraum, no less. It's insane. I have barely-known people who hate my guts and don't want me around. So they go after me for years in all those small mean ways and then it turns out I still outlive and outfight them. Lebensraum, you bet.

What the fuck can I do. There are things I can't do anything about - I have to endure them. Like changing neighbours. It's a lottery. Some are noisy and crazy, some are nice and quiet and I am lucky when I get some like that. Nevertheless, I learned the hard way that when you get noisy neighbours, you have to fight back in some way or other. You can't be too tolerant. I did - I won a first battle, and then I won the second battle. I exerted some psychological pressure that perhaps (how am I to know?) helped them to decide they wanted to live somewhere else. People don't like to know they are being hated or opposed. They often prefer to move - at least when they can. People with a large social network often are pretty mobile. So they move. But I have no hard facts to prove that I was in any way instrumental in their decision to move after a year. Maybe not. There are indications that perhaps I played a role by exerting some pressure. I can't be sure and I'd rather leave this undecided, with the proviso of exerting such pressure in the future when needed - just in case it does play a role. What else can I do after all.

The major stumble-blocks are things like janitors and landlords. They have a bit more power than I do as a mere tenant and more vested interest in staying put. The only thing I could ever do about the philippino janitor was to wait, endure, and hope for him to finally clear out - it was obvious he was staying put to save some cash to buy a house. They all do - they stay in these jobs for years. Luckily, this one finally departed. So now this particular long-drawn-out headache is gone. I have no problems with the landlord - and no plotting middleman to fuck it up any longer. It is also possible that my ongoing enemity exercized that additional quota of discomfort that made the janitor decide to buy a house sooner than later. Who knows. At least he's gone.

This unexpected relief on one front immediately gave me the opportunity to clear some space on the other front - the gook from the neighbouring building. The strategy was really simple: now that I can keep my bike inside the building with no fear of the philippino janitor raging against it, I can protect it from similar rage from the gook. Consequence: I can give it back really hard to the gook. Which I did by slashing his tyres. Consequence: the gook is now totally paranoid of what else I might do to his cars, and of my person in general. Consequence: he's nowhere to be seen and there is peace and quiet under my fucking balcony which I can now use again without having this fool staring at me and making machine noises all day long.

I'd like to specify that for all my psycho wars with the philippino janitor I never did any vandalism against his stuff - I had a million opportunities but it never seemed like a meaningful thing to do: it would have done no good, plus I always had a psychological advantage over him - I drove him nuts, there was absolutely nothing he could do to strike any fear in me. Heh. It sure cost me a few dead neurons but he wasn't privy to that.

So I regard the whole situation as a lucky set of circumstances to which I added by being recklessly violent. The pettiness of it does not bother me - my whole life is petty, so all my actions and worries are necessarily on that scale. If I had grander projects, I sure would worry about something else. But what can I do - being a fish in the tank I have to fight these other fish in it.

There is no question that these past few years have been a milestone in my development - from fake-regular human being to a bit more of the real human being that I am. First the suicide evolution, now the vandalism thing. It was nice to actually go buy some cyanide - and it was nice to actually jerk a knife into a car tyre. Let's consider those as preliminaries to wider action. Maybe I will still have to suffer through some cancer for instance, and that too will be part of the same evolution: fucking people, fucking world, fucking nature.

There is no fake wisdom that I want to oppose to these things - I have no such wisdom and I don't want any. I don't want to tell myself things that I can't believe in - that's what fake wisdom is, after all.

In short, I won't submit. That's it, it's finished - I won't be bothered by norms and laws and wisdoms and niceties no more. I will do all I can do, no matter how little it is, but at least "I'll do it my way" - and fuck those Viagra commercials (heh, the stupidest fucks I've ever seen). As opposed to those million+ idiots, I don't need no Viagra to do my thing - no cars, no wealth, no land-properties, no mates, no career, no skills 'n talents, none of those supposed powers people predicate themselves upon. I mean, good luck to every one of you - I won't be chasing any of that shit.

All I need to do is vanquish fear - in all its forms. What's been killing me all this time is only that - fear, inside out. I can't have no respect for myself as long as I am mired in this powerlessness. No respect and no forgiveness of myself. The only way out is to always do what you feel you should do, and say what you ought to say - it can be helping some grandma across the street or smash somebody's head in, say "hi" or say "fuck you". One is no better than the other, it's just different situations.

There is such a thing as personal truth - it's your real law and order, not the one that everyone is supposed to abide by. There are pretty huge discrepancies between the two. Fear makes it so that you are not allowed to discover your real order of good and evil. Due to profound education and the dog's training - when you were a toddler you've been slapped on the fingers so many times you think you're no good for being the way you are. Simple? Heh - try it out, it's not. How do you know - maybe you're a small-time Hitler and you've been made to act like some do-gooder liberal idiot. Something like that. It's hilarious in a way.





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