Empty Days

Saturday, March 13, 2004

I guess what's happening is that I am realizing that instead of looking for a way to avoid emptiness and utter chill of the universe, I should actually seek it out actively and either freeze to death for good or find enough warmth in myself to survive and go on struggling.

This is an animal thing, it's got nothing to do with the comforts of human imagination (otherwise known as "civilization").

Or maybe I am cold enough already to find the great chill congenial.

As a toddler I escaped from home several times and fearlessly went to the end of the world in search of god knows what. Every time I was found miles away by strangers nonplussed to see a 5-year old wander about on its own. Lost children cry - I was not lost, I had a purpose and I was alone.
My last escape occurred at age 8, in the wintry forest, when I decided to choose my own course while on a ski trip with friends. This time I was searched with dogs, police and neighbours. I knew I was lost but it didn't bother me too much. Obviously, I am still alive.

There must be some residue of that will left inside. I should find a way to invoke it.

A trip to the end of the rainbow is of course a metaphora for self-killing - death as a voyage to the end of things. You gotta be in the mood for distant travels.

There is a program on PBS called "Now", a certain Bill Mayers inverviewing various folks. Yesterday it was some old guy, author/illustrator of children books - notoriously obsessed with death, this chap, and ambitious like hell. I guess there must be a connection there.
But I was mostly inspired by the few excerpts from next week's interview with the old actor who used to play Mark Twain. I know his face, don't know his name. The inspiring part is that he likes to seafare alone to distant places. So he described how he feels and what he does when he is alone struggling with the boat and the ocean. Valuable observations on how to deal with the world hostile.

I've been getting fed up with the US-centric blogosphere lately. Madrid sure helped to break out of that fucking niche - to some extent at least.

Stealing zen ::

It is as if I were bound, hands and feet. The only way to get out of all these ropes and shackles would be to get seriously mad. But, lo and behold, how do you get mad when your mind itself is gagged?

I used to practice a houdini-escape exercise against my moral constrictions: by stealing some insignificant items at Zellers or places like that. The idea was never the object itself but tuning up to a sense of fearlessness. It was also an anger-management technique - channelling anger, frustration and a lot of negativity into a proactive effective attitude. You can never get caught if you know you're in your right (defined by yourself) and are fearless - everything works to your advantage and you know what you can and can't do and your timing is perfect.

Greed is incompatible with a sense of being in your right.

I would recommend practicing theft as a spiritual exercise - it tunes up your true will to the world around and inside you - you are made aware of which laws govern your actions and reactions, and which laws in the world oppose or second your will. That's also how you get to discover the true structure of the moral codes that are pre-built into your psyche - you've been coerced never to steal, never to kill, never to fight back, never this and never that.

Moral codes have nothing to do with virtue because they are cemented in fear. The true virtue is when you *can* kill, steal, fight, anything - yet choose not to do so. The reasons that will bring about your choosing not to practice your harmfulness will be the true laws inside you - based in courage.

Freedom simply cannot exist without courage.

Slapping time ::

There is something about determined pacifists and so-called leftists (whom I would define as spiteful liberals) that is really very peculiar - it appears that these guys are willing to sacrifice a huge chunk of their common sense and some of their basely human characteristics for the sake of pure intellectual superiority. In other words - to be an intellectual is far more honorable in their eyes than to be merely human. I think this is called snobism. Many youths are afflicted with it. Intellectuals are afflicted with it throughout their lives.

I absolutely understand the dynamics of it, since I am myself a product of the same mentality, but I do not see it as my greatest virtue - it is weakness masquerading as arrogance, or the know-it-all attitude of the righteous idealist. Paradoxically enough, this prioritizing of intelligence over common-sense is probably a form of stupidity. Intellectuals tend to be stupid - for lack of base humanity.

Beatnik Salad, another blog on my roll, linked to an article in Le Monde Diplomatique which is probably a translation from French because it sounds kinda... well, translated. It basically blasts against the elitism of the intellectual left - and the mutual contempt that exists between this militant club and the inarticulate red-neck masses of "le peuple" it purports to defend.

I guess this is hardly news. I guess I couldn't give a flying fuck about much of the american politics detailed in this particular article. But the elitism it describes is an international, timeless phenomenon - and I find it replicated in all corners of the earth.

Typical syndrome of this mentality:

1. you find that you are unable to get mad over human disasters, you only get mad about ideas, perceived as wrong;
2. you can't stand stupidity but, surprisingly, you find you can tolerate cruelty rather well when it falls in line with your ideas;
3. you find you are actually unable to tolerate dissenting views, when they encroach on your ideology;
4. at the same time you are willing to grant equal value to conflicting ideals because, logically, there is no reason why you wouldn't;
5. you pledge allegiance to no community except the intellectual fraternity of the like-minded;
6. you find you cannot deviate from established ideologies of your club, otherwise you'll have to count yourself out;
7. eventually you sell out and find strength in unity;
8. you stop thinking for yourself and do not even know it;
9. alternatively, you realize you were wrong all along;
10. god knows what happens to you next...

And I don't think this is exaggerated - it might actually be an understatement. I share in some of these characteristics, but obviously not in all. A mutant, let's say.

Spain on French tv news

Yesterday finally got around to watch news on France 2, which is something like their CBS, let's say. Of course it was choke full of Spain. Some memorable bits:

1. Two respectable-looking Spaniards taking each other by the throat in the midst of a turbulent crowd, yelling as to what caused "it". One screaming his lungs out: "this is the price of that fucking Iraq war! The whole of spanish people was against it to begin with! Now look who's paying!"; the other yelling something to the effect that "No, it's not Iraq, it's them! They brought the war to us now! That's what we're fighting against!"

2. A special reporter in the Basque country reports that the popular sentiment there is that the Spanish gov is purposefully delaying full information as to the real perpetrators of the bombings, trying to make the accusation against ETA last just long enough to impact the elections tomorrow. This seemingly paranoid view appears fairly valid, given the official stance so far. But then: why would the political leader of ETA stand those 15 minutes of silence for the spaniard-dogs killed far away in Madrid? As the French reporter remarked - this is unprecedented, Basques militants who kill Spaniards do not generally morn their victims afterwards.

3. Over 11 million people take to the streets "in protest against terrorism". It is unclear which terrorism they mean exactly. This is a country traumatized.

4. Nicolas Sarkozy, the French interior minister, is interviewed by the female news-anchor throughout the program and is painfully evasive as to which terrorism he means and where France stands in regard to it. This adds enormous tension - the message seems to be: Spain brought it upon itself, as opposed to France who should be spared this kind of thing.

5. Scenes from the morgues and the hospitals. The dead are probably better off than the maimed. Of the 1400 reported injured, about 400 are seriously mutilated.


The French blog on my roll, Les Yeux sans paupieres, had this to say (mostly Babelfish-translated):
It is the "mortal value" of course. The "mortal value" is the public weight of a death. An old fart accounts for 0, it is the canicular base. 0 absolute, oddly. A death in a road accident counts 30, a victim of industrial poisoning makes in the 5, a Western victim of terrorism - today - counts for 100, a hobo can vary between -10 and 7, a child raped goes up to 70. And this "mortal value" is quite burdensome. What is left to us is sorrow. Sorrow and compassion. Feelings to be maintained.

Fuck. AOL top-3-news headlines to greet the new day:

Woman charged with killing foetus.
Man charged with killing priest.
$314.9M lotto winner robbed twice.

Looks like a haiku from hell - sure sounds like one :-0

Friday, March 12, 2004

Watched Born on the 4th of July yesterday. In French. Some bits were actually hilarious (while obviously designed to be heartbreaking) - especially the one where the two wheel-chair cripples fight over who killed "les bebe" and who didn't. Watching this film you'd think all Vietnam vets, or at least the vast majority, were baby-killers. That's far from true, but that's Oliver Stone for you - dramatic effect rules. Some people are hyped enough to believe the lot of shite this guy unloaded in his "JFK" conspiracy movie, but hey - drama! drama! and fuck factual truth :)

On the other hand this movie makes a point and it's not just about Vietnam. It's about what happens when a man gets so alienated from his own world that there is just nothing left - and how and by what means and on what premises he is able to restore himself. Tom Cruise is actually pretty good in that movie. He always plays the same role anyway, but here something actually happens to his stalwart character - it changes a lot.

And that's the philosophical backbone of the movie. You would think it wants to tell you how bad Vietnam and Nixon were. But it also shows that a desperate man has nowhere to go and that he will change his deepest convictions if only he can find a group of people to welcome him in understanding. This is a universal. And it goes far beyond the loss of legs and dick in Vietnam.

That's what happened to Romeo Dallaire, the canadian UN commander in Rwanda. That happens to a lot of people of whom you'll never hear because they'll never make the news. That happens everywhere and to all sorts of folks.

I watched this movie with pleasure - it tells a lot of truths about the basics while it lies a lot about the politico game.

The Slow Death of Israeli Kibbutzim

Went to look around other blogs and found this random bit on the demise of kibbutz in Israel. Completely unrelated to the previous, but I have a few venomous comments:
Israeli kibbutzim, once the pride and joy of socialists around the world, are dying a slow death, at least as far as socialism is concerned.
I actually lived on a kibbutz, Revadim, for three weeks in 1985. (...) I can't say that the principles or lifestyle were to my taste, but voluntary socialism can easily coexist with a libertarian society. So, shed a small tear for the decline of kibbutz socialism, another failed experiment in human coexistence.
Yeah right. Perhaps one could still talk of any sort of "socialism" in those 1980's kibbutz farms. That was not the scene observed in the late 1990's by somebody I know who spent 6 months in three different communities. Apparently, what the permanent inhabitants do is they hire temp workers from Indonesia and other such places, and they let them do all the hard work, while remaining the parasite-like lords and masters of the camp. Socialism, hein? I don't think such shit deserves any tears - let them go where they deserve, which is down the drain.

Spain - Al-Qaeda or ETA?

Maybe I am crazy but when the Basque separatists claim that it's not their doing since they have a non-written rule for giving advance warning, I tend to believe that claim - because it comes from "home" terrorists. And home-terrorists usually have some minimal idea of why the hell they're doing what they do.

Al-Qaeda is an empty word. It is rather a bunch of raving zealots who have less than zero respect for either themselves or their enemy (that's what happens when you give too much respect to "Allah"). The "official claim" for the massive destruction is not forthcoming. They have no specific goal in mind, so why not leave everybody in the dark?

You know - I am not a pacifist and never have been. Sometimes it's extremely necessary and important to punch a bastard in the face - and perhaps smash his head in too. While leftists will surely claim that this is just another proof of how bad it can get when you wage open war on bellicose zealots, I will have to tell them to go fuck their dog for a change.

Shit. I think we absolutely need more attacks in the States and here in Canada (and I'll be willing to die in one of these) to shake those darling liberals out of their boots - that's the message, get it.

* In Spain this event is now called 11-M *

Actually, here is a good question. The difference between home-terrorists and international religious zealots. Palestinian, Chechen, Basque, Irish terrorists are all pretty clear about what they want. What's more - their claims are actually fairly realistic. They want their own piece of land, or at least serious autonomy - it's nationalism.

But what does Al-Queda want? To the best of my understanding they want the whole of the West out of the whole of the Middle-East. What's more, they desire to build a thousand-mile chinese wall between "evil west" and "god-abiding islam". So they may hide behind it and create a huge Taliban-like empire of the righteous. Right, why not indeed - the whole of the West once did let Hitler establish his own private world right in the heart of Europe. After all, Adolf was occupied with extremely legitimate nation-building.

Disappointingly enough, I don't think this "problem" can be solved by just quitting using arab oil and slowing down on financial/political ties with all those holy lands out there. Or - why wouldn't the West just quit buggering Africa and let it take its own chaotic course, for a change?

No, I don't think that's how Pax Romana was achieved. In fact, I'd like to see an example in history of how any sort of World Peace can be achieved without some serious repression here and there. Assuming that no state and no super-power is entirely holy.Too much aggression is bad but no aggression at all is also a really bad idea.


I'd be very curious to see how things will progress if ever Israel finally gets over itself and lets the Palestinians have their state after all. "And the lamb will lay with the wolf". Remember - Itzak Rabin was a former general, not an arm-chair professor alias martini-drinking socialite.

But I guess by then Iraq would have replaced Palestine as the main object of contention. So perhaps there won't be any effect at all.


On one thing the zealots are right though - everything is in the hands of Allah, especially world history.

The price of freedom ::

Argggh. Do I also have to mention that I am such a sucker for comforts? I've been trying to disengage myself from that particular "habit" (in the pascalian sense - Blaise was so right about it, and he was only a monk, not even a certified cognitive-behavioral shrink - fuck you, btw:) Being on welfare did help in some respect - getting out of the habit for good food, for pleasures, for entertainment, for gadgets and all those glittering objects-of-desire.

Yes, you can do it with less than a shoe-string budget. No, you do not need to buy expensive clothes. Yes, you can manage with salvation-army fatigues. And - you *can* survive without books and music. Heil Hitler.

Yeah, well - it also entails not having any social life whatsoever (and I absolutely mean it), because, well, you can't really go out under these conditions. What do "friends" do when they get together? Well, they go for a coffee or to see a film - at the very least. And obviously, since you can afford neither, you better not have friends. That's the price to pay.
Not to mention the fact that having no life, you can't really partake in the convivial discussion about your respective goings-n-doings. Do you think hobos and all those bums out there have "friends"? No, they don't. They have allies - for hard times. That's got nothing to do with friendship.


However, there is one thing that money is important for - and that's personal space, otherwise known as "a roof over my head". Hobos have to carve that space out of the public land, where multitudes walk, and basically they have no right to hog any space for themselves. They squat illegally and they know they're out of bounds. They can't buy their sacred right to privacy. A lot of the bums avoid hostels because those are nothing but animal farms and you're treated like cattle in there. The alternative is an illegal spot in the open space.

Freedom is illegal in the human world, you have to steal it, and you better show no remorse and no frustration.

The message is - you do not live by the rules, so get lost, buddy.

Leap of faith ::

I've been trying to figure out why the fuck I've been getting so depressed while travelling. I know for a fact it was never only a biochemical fluke - in a way I wish I were bipolar, because then I could just blame the whole fucking roller-coaster on brain-disbalance and quit worrying about whatever underlying causes. I'd curse god and genetics for making me that way and I'd dance the mindless dance of the biochemically-afflicted. But as much as I'd like to fool myself in that department, deep down I know I can't get away with fake diagnostics.


It is my impression that a lot of the current drive to "diagnose" people with stupid shit like shyness for instance, is designed to deflect blame from a fucked-up psyche to some chemical variable - and stop worrying about being a misfit, and "be happy". This is extremely repugnant to me - I just hate it to be lied to my face and be fooled into complacency. All in all, this is a very american thing and, excuse me, but americans are known to be monumental fools in some departments - and that would definitely be one of those.

Basically, I tend to despise folks who get into that groove and go around proclaiming they're "afflicted" and need all sorts of consideration, as if they were really ill. Which is an insult to people who are truly sick, by the way. But, as with all things, a fool is a fool, and I might say so to his face but it won't change a thing. So - leave and let live, n'est-ce pas :)


As to my travel-depressions. There is a pattern here, and maybe if I were able to reverse that pattern, I'd get rid of the consequences too. This is important right now - if I set out on false premises again, I'll hit that wall inside myself once more, and I'll have to turn back, or break my head with a heavy tool. Which would be one and the same at this point.

One obvious symptom is a nagging sense of alienation. It's as if I were under a glass-bell and couldn't break out. Not just loneliness, but inability to break through to the world, to people - no matter how welcoming they might be. It's an inner state that sets in at some point and it's got nothing to do with whatever happens on the outside. I am not entirely sure how this comes about - it's as if I were fighting against myself and this is a sign of self-defeat.
So the obvious solution would be not to provoke that inner fight. Do I set my goals so high I know I can't reach them? Or do I set myself false goals that are set to defeat my true drive? Or what it is I am fighting against and what it is that gets defeated in the end?

Shit. This is serious psychology here and I am not so great at dismantling such convoluted constructions. One thing seems clear though - somehow, in some way, I am lying to myself, and this fundamental lie causes the mousetrap effect. To put it simply, I need to prove myself to myself - without any particular reason, just because I can no longer survive without completing this basic task. It can only be done if, instead of following the beaten path of "life-as-it-should-be", I finally gather my guts and set out on my own totally crazy senseless road - despite and against all odds, all laws, all common sense.

I am absolutely no good at lying to myself. I've tried so very many times - I just can't do it. I need to discover that truth that keeps demolishing all my lies. So far I've been consistenly unwilling to face it.

Fear. What of and why.

Comments are out, feedback is in - for those itching to say their say. I still believe a no-comments blog is too much of a frustration, plus I finally took the time to figure out that haloscan is not really post-dependant. In fact, it's a pretty dumb javascript string and thus can be used in a variety of ways. And do I need to mention that trackback is only good if you're out to get Prez Bush or something?
Anyway. If you're passing by, you're very welcome, but you can't stay :) That's the message so far.

Thursday, March 11, 2004

Just back from a rather grueling ride with my cat to the vet - it was all the way up a hill and I am too much of a smoker to handle that kind of push without previous exercise.

At 15 pounds the kitty is not a small matter either and he also has a thing against the medical profession, so he basically didn't even let himself be examined and showed a lot of teeth-n-claws. The vet was some strange French expat with a unique admiration for Chirac. All in all it was a chaotic and useless trip - I was basically told that the cat needs to be tranquilized and a full range of analyses is in order. All of which would "probably" amount to about $250. And "maybe" hormones should be checked too (I guess that means the doc found the kitty a bit too aggressive).

Right. I guess this is out of question, unless the cat finally decides to produce signs of serious discomfort. So far no such signs have been detected and I just went for a routine check-up. What I am starting to realize about vets though is that they basically go into shock when the cat is too aggressive and immediately proclaim that something is terribly wrong and needs massive investigation. The truth is though - the cat has been traumatized by his castration in early youth (it went badly, to say the least) and he can't stand the smell of a vet's office ever since. That may be wrong but it's damage done and there is not much anybody can do about that. So I guess we're not going to the vet again any time soon.

At least this guy had the decency not to charge me for this show of feline discontent.


Here is an interesting site that answers a lot of the questions I've been asking myself concerning dry food for cats and other such "medically-approved" crap. I simply refuse to believe that the by-product mash these things contain can be good for any living creature. Unless it's a vulture who likes to eat rot.

Ladies and gentlemen, do not trust your doctor - unless you're dying from some horrible desease and need pain-killers.

I slept in today and had good dreams. I was flying, in a sesna or something, and landed safely. This is a good sign. My last flying dream was something like 2-3 years ago. Experience has shown that flying in dreams indicates some kind of inner-liberation process. It can be insignificant or not, that's not the point.

I absolutely want to destroy myself. Hopefully this resolve will harden some more. It's the resolve that counts, not the result.


A friend once told my that the ever-depressed wife of a guy she knows finally killed herself. She said that the act was absolutely unpredictable because the woman actually cheered up immensely for the first time in a very long while. Apparently this radiance was due to her new-found decision to exist this life. Of course the husband was distraught - but this was obviously a positive event.

I've been thinking the other day why it is that there are so many abnormally fat people in the States. I don't know. It's kinda hard to imagine that they're just incredible gluttons who never stop gorging themselves on greasy junk-food. I can't believe people are so fat because of over-eating. It must be some sort of metabolism problem, probably brought about by food that is truly and terminally unhealthy. And for some reason I don't think it's just a matter of junk-food. A canadian friend who's just moved to the States reports that supermarket food there is nearly uneatable - things are either too salty or too sweet. And food for kids is twice as sweet. This sort of thing may be described as "over-the-top", and I'd rather not think how over-the-top is the fat component in all this.

So maybe american food industry should get a grip and start improving their taste - and maybe people's health will improve too as a side-effect, in a few generations, because the fat of today and tomorrow are going to stay huge due to terminally fucked-up metabolism from a life-time of bad diet.

I am sorry for these folks, I can't imagine it's all their fault (couch-potatoes, no sidewalks) - how can you blame lifestyle when all the food you've ever eaten was such a pile of crap to begin with?


Post WWII generation in Eastern Europe was really short and skinny. Guess why: because in their first 10 years those kids were severly underfed. In other words, they consistently went hungry. And look at all those huge teens today. Just too big - too tall, too fat. In other words - overfed.

Eh voila. Color of the first tender grass soon to appear out of the dark damp earth. Strangely enough I actually like the sight of all the unseemly trash that comes to light after the snow is gone. There is something of a mystery uncovered in all that unbelievably diverse junk - there is no telling what will show up. It may be a cadaver (speaking of which: Spalding Gray's bod floating up in the Hudson channel the other day - that too).

The most unseemly are of course excrements - animal, but also, and not all that rarely, human. Do I need to mention that tender green grass and manure of all kind are intimately connected? Really, let us welcome those turds too, and may they decompose successfully, fatten the earth, and contribute to general prosperity. Amen.

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

Some odd things that occur

Another idiotic top-news-in-america story is making the rounds on the net (as found on AOL news today):
COVINGTON, Ga. (AP) - A woman was caught trying to use a fake $1 million bill to buy $1,675 worth of merchandise at a Wal-Mart, and was later found with two more of the bills in her purse, police said.

The United States Treasury does not make $1 million bills, but people can buy souvenirs of such a bill at some stores, police said.

"It looks real, but of course there's nothing real about this,'' Covington Police Chief Stacey Cotton said Tuesday. "People do crazy things all the time. I think it's just another example of some odd things that occur.''

A clerk at the store immediately noticed the bill was fake when 35-year-old Alice Regina Pike handed it to her on Friday, Cotton said.

Pike then tried to use two gift cards with only $2.32 of value on them to buy the merchandise, but when that didn't work she again asked if the clerk could cash the $1 million bill, Cotton said. The store then called police.

Pike, of Porterdale, was charged with forgery. There was no listing for her phone number in directory assistance, and she could not be reached for comment Tuesday.

Covington is 32 miles southeast of Atlanta.

03/10/04 10:02 EST
Why on earth arrest somebody who's trying to cash a cartoon-bill? Forgery? How about desperation, or stupidity, or your plain typical madwoman? I'd grant stupidity to police and desperation to the female nutcase here.

Trivial things are sometimes pretty handly. Some folks created a useful service for people who are turned off by all those registration-based websites - it's called BugMeNot, heh. I can't remember when I last read an article in NYTimes - mainly because I forgot my original login there and couldn't be bothered with creating a new one.

There is also a reference to a sister-service that is even handier: fake one-timer email for generic sign-ins - Mailinator. As opposed to completely faked email, you can actually receive that "activate" link there, complete the registration, and forget all about it. Great? I thought so.

For my own consumption ::

Amusing. Nearly froze my computer to death - it said "brr" and shut down. I guess it's not a good idea to have the balcony open while operating sensitive electronic equipment - well, not yet let's say.


Being suicidal is a very, very good thing. I am only now discovering its virtues. It took some time and some unwelcome experiences to realize this might be a very real option. In a way this process somehow resembles entering the world of sex for the first time. I can't quite recall all the doubts and hesitations "it" involved back when this seemed like such a big deal - but it was a major threshold, and it took some convoluted mental build-up, "it" being such a fucking taboo in many respects.

Self-murder is yet another taboo, one very disapproved of, and sometimes it takes pretty much a whole lifetime to get over the fact of death being such an obvious part of life. One's own life - most notably. I don't think I need to detail all the mentally- and/or culturally-charged impediments on the road to self-annihilation. It's a trip - very much like climbing out of some bottomless hole where this forbidden rotten fruit has been buried since time immemorial. Or, to use another metaphor - digging out the roots of the tree of life. Which is obviously a very bad thing, as far as the garden of Eden is concerned. Thou shall not vandalize and transplant that tree, you bastard!

I like Jesus though - he was not that sentimental creep he is made out to be so very often. Didn't he say something to the effect that: "if this fucking tree doesn't bear any fruit or gives no shade, it might as well die - and I'll even dessicate it myself if I catch the sight of such a shitty plant". The quote is certain though I am not sure of the phrasing.

All in all, the only real impediment is fear. And we all know what fear is. It's there to cause obstruction in every way possible. Fear is much too inventive to argue with - it's the best sophist out there and you can't beat it at its own game. It's very capable of instantly producing a whole bible of no-no's, with footnotes and historical references, and make you look like a fool, and shut you down, and gag your every pore. That's fear - the master of the human universe.

I would say that the bulk of modern psychology, most notably in its pop incarnation, is nothing but one massive tribute to fear. Let us all fall on our faces and adore it from the bottom of our sodden hearts. Ah well, and what else is new?


The bottom-line is actually pretty simple. Either you view it as the worst disaster of your life, with all the "oh-poor-me" repercussions, or you view it as the greatest challenge to your limitations, which is the more productive approach as it lets you drive right into the wall - and see what happens: you may swirl at the last moment, and take a whole new direction, of which you know nothing before you actually get there.

The nothing-to-lose attitude is the portent of great things. Should be cherished and cultivated, despite all the flaccid talk out there.


Disclaimer: I am responsible for my own words, no matter how universally applicable or not.

Some of the things I find in the stats are pretty inspiring. Somebody was looking for "Gott mit uns". Here's is a pictorial overview of its steely history.
1) WWII wehrmacht belt buckle -- 2) WWI prussian belt buckle remodeled in brass

Tuesday, March 09, 2004

Is it possible to survive for extended periods of time without any cash at all?

I think so. Though it might border on the miraculous - at times.

Tabula rasa

Not surprisingly I also feel a tremendous urge to clear the table by cutting off some of the people-ties that have managed to accumulate through my long no-life time. All these relationships are remote and not very deep, so it's not really a matter of being hard to do - it's just that god knows how this might resonate on the other side.

The most problematic on my out-list is the suicidal UK guy - because I am his only contact in the "outside" world and I know it. So it's gonna be brutal for him. Otoh, I don't really care whether he lives or dies. And that's the bottom-line here. But I am hesitating - held back by intuition rather than my pitying reason.

Other people on the list are much more self-sufficient, so it's as good as done already.

I love being sorry for myself and for others. At the same time I hate it. And it applies in both cases.

Wild strawberries

Bought strawberries today - affordable, after months and months of wintry expensiveness. That's a small cheer but, metaphorically, this is also the first taste of the approaching warmer season.

The reason I am so particular about weather is because I have plans. I have plans to run amok and get lost in space. That being an endless series of unknown highways and unknown encounters of the world unkind. I won't collect souvenirs, there won't be any diaries, reflections, descriptions. Fuck that. Non-travel mode. Basically I wish to try the hobo life. Not beatnik, none of that self-reflective krap. Not prince-in-rags. Nothing enjoyable.

Preferably nowhere to return to.

The lease is up for renewal and I have a couple of days left to decide whether to renew or not. That's a good way to burn bridges and get the fuck outta here - without any particular reason.

I know I love sentimental moods. I love being reasonable. At the same time I hate it, all that wishy-washy and-what-if dynamic. Sometimes it seems to me that it's just two different types of moods - swaying left, swaying right, wherever the chips may fall. It's been a long time since I've been brutal. I need to try that once more and break my head if I must.


There remains the small sentimental matter of my cat. The poor helpless beast of burden (for carrying all my moods as he does). I suppose I will have to be especially brutal here. Maybe find some stranger to take care of him while I am gone - indefinitely.

What I know about my cat is that he's actually more like a dog. So even if I am gone for ages, he will still know me if/when I am back. In a way that's too bad. Most cats are selfish independent beasts that adapt to whatever/whoever suits them best. But this stupid cat is too stupid to be that self-sufficient. There is an unholy relationship here and this cat will suffer enormously once it's broken. Human world is unkind to humans - but it's properly beastly to animals. So be it.

One consolation is that people who kill themselves rarely make proper arrangements for their pets - one day the body is carried out and the cat runs away in fear amongst the tumult and gets lost and enters upon a hopefully short life of extreme and utter hardship. That kind of krap shall not happen in this household.


Writing in english is hard. Not making too many mistakes is even harder. Otoh, there is a certain pleasure in doing things that are neither easy nor obvious and that don't really come to you naturally. Not many things do, in any case.

Early spring ::

Completely stalled as of late. Early spring, bright cold days. But it's not the damp-earth cold of real spring - it's still winter, everything is frozen stiff, it tries to snow now and then, nights are chilly, winds are harsh. Basically, I loathe this - and can't get my ass out of the room.

On top of which I had yet another near-fire situation yesterday, thick smoke everywhere, froze to death trying to air out all the nasty fumes, no good. This place stinks and I am stuck in this stink, until warmer weather - when I can fling the balcony open and let the squirrels in, and new air, and birds going mad, and sounds.

On top of which some fools kept buzzing the buzzer downstairs for no proper reason, so I woke up at 3am and proceeded to unscrew and disable and fuck the fucking buzzer in the dead of the night, and fuck this building and all its multiracial sicko-paranoid inhabitants (myself included, very much so indeed).

I am mediating intensely on staging a definitive spring clearing-out, get rid of all the fucking books, and all the fucking accumulated mementos, objects of great useless value, and wouldn't it be wonderful to just abandon this goddam dump with everything in it - unsold and left as is, and let them have it, as if I died, and as well I might have to.

I have plans yet something holds me back - a sort of intuition (not fear, I almost wish it was just me) that if I tried to push for it now it just won't work for no particular reason. Just won't work - there's some unseen and entirely incomprehensible impediment out there, in the universe of small things, and I can sense it loud and clear, and all I can do is sit there on my ass and wait for the doors to open. I don't know what the fuck this is but in my stupid life I've run into that universal impediment so many countless times I just can't pretend I don't know it's there and keep banging my head against invisible walls in a pathetic imitation of steadfast resolve. This is almost too hilarious. Do or not do, it won't do.

I cannot comprehend these things - they have no name, they're out there, and they fucking rule my life inside-out. Inside and outside. Everywhere. Apparently such statements indicate paranoia. Yet I know full well the difference between irrational fears and irrational premonitions. Being paranoid is something quite distinct - I know the feel, and I know I am not really subject to it (thank god, at least my brain is still +/- ok). But intuition is something else entirely. It knows about things you're not supposed to know about. You can't say a word about it in any case because this knowing has nothing to do with knowledge. It doesn't tell you anything beyond the fact that there's a way laid out for you out there, and every time you try to push for something else it lets you know you're not allowed to step off that track as you please.

Fucking railway line.

Bah. I sure could coat all this into one of those sugary know-it-all "theories of being" that explain everything and claim to know what they're talking about. Sure of course. What a vast load of crap. They can stuff it, as far as I am concerned - their pseudo-knowledge, and their pseudo-remedies, and their endlessly futile advice.

Sometimes, very, extremely rarely I run into people talking sense - talking about things they don't know and saying just so. Because you do not know. And all your verbose theories are peremptory loads of shit without any consequence at all on the true state of affairs in this world as you live it. True wisdom is silent as it knows full well it has nothing to show for itself except utter final ignorance. No skeptic is humble enough to admit that doubt itself is nothing but a frustrated grab at knowledge denied.

Fuck the rational universe and all its blathering zealots.

Is there anything to say, really, beyond the fact that there's nothing to say? Religion, atheism, mysticism, pragmatism, kreep and krap. Not knowing that you don't know - god it takes guts to overcome that particular *error*.

Sometimes people know how to speak without over-stating themselves. How not to put pent-up meaning where there is none. What a rare wonderful skill that is. What major guts it takes to bypass meaning.

Those who see the light actually only see their own light - the light of the runaway train speeding down its assigned slope.

Monday, March 08, 2004

Ah, the virtues of foresight. That wonderful Chernobyl-on-m/c site is already dead, due to super-heavy traffic from overly popular sources like Slashdot no doubt. What a pain in the ass this slashdot is, n'est ce pas. But all is not lost for those curious enough to take a peek despite the death of the original link - thanks to numerous mirror sites out there, set up by internet-weary folks who know how quick popular things get messed-up. Talk about google cache coming in handy.

The how-to of me ::

Fuck. I guess I will have to put up that "about me" page after all (this gotta be one of those growing-stages of blogging). The obvious thing is that it will have to be hosted on some other server. And this is ennoying - I like things to stay where they belong, but in the end they never do, do they.

Another difficulty is that there are multiple ways of describing my multiple personality (not to be confused with "colorful"). I can't even list "things I like and not" since these are perpetually subject to change (my icq profile still haunts me as increasingly inaccurate). So let's dispense with the list then. Now what? The state of affairs - which shall change too, and soon, and god knows how.

Curiously, I've always been particularly uneasy about the mechanics of "being interested in" - perhaps because in my case these mechanics are seriously messed-up. I may be an enthusiast one day, and the next I cannot understand what it is I was raving about. Inconsistency. I can't really fake it and pretend I still care when I know I don't - even if it's contrary to my own sense of logic and fairness. So really, nothing defines me as well as I would wish it to. I am a nudist - albeit a mental one.

So let's say this is a preliminary rant before attempting to write down that informal resume which I will probably try to keep to 200 characters or less. The essence of it being small and fairly steady.


My cat attacked me today. I notice that those who have blogs also have cats. I wonder how this reflects on the quality of blogging.

Random round-up: lost spaceman (a canadian in taiwan), desolation row (philosophy student), boidyke (insider view), subsway (s/m), peeping tom (UK guy)

Sunday, March 07, 2004

News and crap linkers: memigo, scribot

While reading something about men-in-drag and hiding, it occurred to me that there is something desperately wrong with feminism - who it is you want to have equal rights with? those people who are not even allowed to wear a dress or whatever for the life of them?

Afterthought: or maybe something is desperately wrong with feminine fashion - not fit for men, but not at all. Otoh, I've seen a young guy in high-heels and let me tell you: he looked smashingly elegant.

Footwear is so much more democratic.

For some reason I am really sorry for that poor-rich Martha Stewart. They're all set to send her to jail. It seems to me that at her level everybody or nearly so practices insider trading. I wonder why she got nailed. I don't envy people their money and their lifestyle. It does look to me like this is a scapegoat event yet again.

This is too obvious - and outside of all the "get the rich" morons, enough people know this is a dirty case through and through.

God knows I never watched Martha Stewart :-0

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