Empty Days

Saturday, October 02, 2004

Some darkish clarity on a rainy afternoon.

For one, I fully realize that I am not going to move anywhere out of this flat of mine until I find a reason to live - rather than a reason to move (i have plenty of those already). For me to go out in the world and scramble for better outfits, it would take a bit more than just whatever unpleasantness from my existing situation. Unpleasantness I always had and will always have - it's not a moving principle, it's a principle of resistence rather than conquest.

Secondly, I can't quite get away with just enjoying myself from time to time (case in point: bike-trips). Perhaps I am all wrong in my relation to life, but I am just one of those people who can't see the point of enjoyment if there's no sense of the totality of life. And I do not have that sense. Therefore all my enjoyments are like clouds that come and go in the sky - without leaving a trace. I need to build something - rather than just carry bricks from place to place because the physical effort is pleasant enough. (guess what: i hate gyms and body-building and healthy-lifestyle and all that pointless enjoy-myself crap)

Deep inside my skeptical-refusing mind I know that I am one of those people who would gladly drag themselves through thorns and mud for the sake of something worthwhile to do - and would enjoy it as well. I guess I am fundamentally an idealist, no matter what I say against high-ideals - I forget all those bruises when I am able to see far ahead. Problem is - nothing to look for. So what do I do, hein?

Personal liberation. No. Because I have all the freedom I could possibly ask for and I don't do zilch with it. So it's not personal liberation - it's a-personal liberation. Right. I don't need that person anymore - hope I get severely suicidal again soon because at least it brings me close enough to that state where I can just drop it all right there.

In the end my idea of this blasted self-realization would be to build something which is also what I understand as "creating life" - and not for myself, because my "self" is not enough of a pharaon to build pyramides for it.

The problem so far has been that I lost a greater sense of things - of something greater than myself - it can be God or the World or whatever - but it is quite obvious that I cannot go on sitting on my ass and pretending I am the queen of the universe or what not. What a joke. However it's been that way for much too long already.

Paradoxically this whole individualistic "I am unique, I am rebel" discourse is not doing it for me at all. I wish I could get out of this rut and see some light beyond my shining ass. The exact opposite of Byronism or Nietzscheanism with their "I am a genius" motto. I do not wish to be a genius, haha, and what's more, I do not wish to be anything specific at all - I'd like to know what I am attached to in the greater scheme of things. So far I've got no clue at all.

I've been careful avoiding blathering christian evangelics with their "Oh I know, I'll show ya Jesus" crap - but the hilarious thing is, what's out there is not very different from that tired line: except it's called different names every time. I can't respond to that. Perhaps I can't respond to nothing at all quite simply.


We'll see how I manage that though.

It's all in the footnotes.

Thurs rist ek ther
ok thria stafi ergi ok oedhi ok othola

Thurse I engrave for you three times
And three letters ergi and oedhi and othola.

Note that scholars do not link 'Othola' to rune Othala. They translate o-thola = im-patience.


Thus Othala is the rune of Patience - because it's the rune of the race, inheritence, genetics, home, grounded growth. Something you can never quite fly away from. It's the noose on your neck - it even looks like one:

The noose on your neck will strangle you if you try to get away too hard - it's the rune of that kind of Patience - of knowing how not to struggle against what you can't escape lest you die of suffocation.

Some say it's also the rune of Freedom.

What oh God am I doing here?

I truly do not know - why I am around. I do nothing and I am good for nothing and yet I am around and I take up space, damn it. All this talk about self-realization is fine and dandy but on some barely conscious level I always feel that my presence in this world has been either a giant mistake or it got nothing to do whatsoever with any sort of mine personal pleasure or contentment or meaning of mine life etc.

This life of mine, ladies and gentlement, has no meaning whatsoever - I can invent some temporarily, but on the whole it just has none. Period. My own existence is beyond me - I was given birth without any fucking explanations, without any fucking goals - it happened. And nobody really knows why it happened. The only viable explanation so far has been: my parents wanted to have a family. There is no point asking why people desire to have a family - there are no meaningful explanations to this absurd desire. It's procreation. Is procreation explained by some instinctive need of the species to populate the earth? Is it even explained by some incredibly deep desire to overcome one's own physical death? I strongly doubt it - my parents were young idiots when they brought me to the world: they just wanted to have a "good life". It got nothing to do whatsoever with overcoming death, let me tell you. It's not very different from wanting badly to wear the latest fashion in season - who the fuck cares about latest fashion?? People do, oh yes, and how!

Therefore I am around on account of some reasons as deep and profound as those on display in the Fashion Magazine. Love and desire to have a family do not go anywhere beyond that level of reasoning and desiring. Read Fashion Magazine, folks, the whole raw wisdom of the world is in there. Compared to which such discontented fucks as Nietzsche are an abberation - the world is most emphatically *not* ruled by deep thoughts and musings on the meaning of a deeply meaningless life.


My tragedy has been that I cannot very well settle for the Fashion Magazine and board the go-merry-round of purely instinctive unquestioning living. Too bad I fell off that majestic ship of fools so very early. I need to get back but I can't - the music onboard is too loud and I have to dive ever deeper to escape the overpowering sounds of this ongoing fashionable madness.

I wish I would die already - it just makes no sense and I can't state this clearly enough: it makes no sense!

Am I a fish? It would seem so indeed - that I need to finally accept my fishy state and swim away into the vastness of an oceanic wilderness. Haha.

On Will.

I believe Nietzsche was right on the nail in putting the problem of will at the center of his investigative philosophy. No matter what they say in those know-it-all outfits of modern psychology, we are (or I am) very far from getting a clue as to what human beings are exactly made of - will is the source of life, but where does it come from and how exactly does it act - a thousand answers are not enough of an answer.


There was an interesting "synchronicity" event today as I was pondering over this endlessly evasive question. First i had an online convo with a guy who barely speaks english: nonetheless he came up with the famous "where there is will there are ways". Next thing I know I ran into the same motto being disparaged on that jungian website about synchronicity. Cause-effect, or no such thing. Both ways it takes guts - which is action. Next question: what are your guts made from really?


In the end it all comes down to thinking - or let us rather call it blindness. There is an undeniable blind angle to the purely rational take on everything that pertains to the processes of life - such as, for instance, decision-making. Discoursive psychology endlessly glides over the surface, never letting you worry where the hell does it all come from. Such brilliant explanations as "neurons not connecting"- oh really? How sad indeed.

There are a lot of imbecilities that are weighing on us because they're out there and everybody believes them - the only possible policy is to ignore those as best one can. It's very difficult, but it's feasible. Most of all - it's scary.

Something like: "if you have cancer, hide it". Admittedly it's less painful in matters of human psyche, though it depends on the case.


Another way of putting the same question: is rational blindness any less scary than irrational blindness? Supposedly it's less scary - because you're convinced you know where you stand. Illustration: cartoon coyote not yet aware he's overshot the edge of the cliff and there is an abyss underneath. He knows where he is - while he knows yet not. Akin to walking on water - you may as long as you don't suspect it can't be done.

But how will you walk on water if you know-for-sure it can't be done.

But what if you suddenly realize you don't know... does it get any scarier?


It's no use blathering about the illusion of life. At least it's useless on a purely intellectual level, which is where most of such talk actually takes place. But I guess there are events and actions that can make this plain enough. What then? It's still useless really to talk about this - reason might be illusory but it is also the sitting-place of all the talk in the world.


Poetry is the opposite of reason - strangely enough, it is. For all the rhymes and the structure and the words, the source of poetic vision is entirely outside rational thinking. I absolutely do not have it and therefore I know exactly what I am talking about - because I don't have it.

Only poetry can grant you access to where you can't go with your thinking - it's the inspiring life-giving factor. Poesis means "making" - making the world.

(and of course i don't mean just poetry - and of course i can't even understand it - you gotta have some of that in you even to understand)


I still don't know where it all comes from.

What Montaigne left out.

. . . . of all hindrances to Magickal action, the very greatest and most fatal is unbelief, for it checks and stops the action of the Will. Even in the commonest natural operations we see this. No child could learn to walk, no student could assimilate the formulas of any science, were the impracticability of so doing the first thing in his mind.

-- MacGregor Mathers, The Book of the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage, p. xxiv

Friday, October 01, 2004

Jung's Synchronicity.

While looking for definitions, found this:

Albert Einstein never accepted quantum mechanics because he was convinced that it must - because of its acausal character - be imperfect. He looked for "hidden variables" on a deeper physical level to correct this supposed deficiency.

On the contrary, Wolfgang Pauli was of the opinion that the inclusion of this further dimension could not consist in Einstein's "regressive idea" to postulate a new causal and purely physical world behind the acausality of quantum physics by finding the "hidden variables". He began to figure out at about this time that the "Einstein" of his dream represented a shadow figure in himself, who wanted to bring together this hidden dimension with depth psychology and parapsychology. Almost twenty years later (in 1953) he writes to Jung:
"I remarked to Bohr ... that Einstein was regarding as an imperfection of wave mechanics [RFR: quantum physics] within physics what in fact was an imperfection of physics within life."
Not sure about the rest but that quote by Pauli is quite strikingly precise, I would say.

On divination.

Having tried both I-Ching and Tarot, I think I much prefer Runes in the end - I like the rude take Futhark gives on life (I also like the sound of the word "Futhark" which I associate with "fucked life" or french "foutre" of the same meaning - interestingly enough all these semantics come down to "Fate" or "Fortune") . Instead of some nebulous "some dark-haired person fucks you from a distance" or "fishes ate your pigs" kind of stuff, Runes are kind of direct in a good nasty way: they tell of a simple hard life where it's important to have guts and listen to stuff happening around and inside you instead of running around looking as to who might be responsible for your shit besides yourself.

Yes, I think there is somewhat more to life than just what one prefers to imagine of it, but the view is limited by skepticism and I can't deny that I am a skeptic and can't really respond to anything beyond my own paltry ideations of the world.

Perhaps there are gods and forces out there - but since I am not directly aware of any of those, I'd rather not speculate :-0


For one thing, the Runic myths really appeal to my sense of how much unpleasantness it takes in life to get at anything worthwhile. The founding myth of Furthark is this:

I know I hung on that windswept tree,
Swung there for nine long nights,
Wounded by my own blade,
Bloodied for Odin,
Myself an offering to myself:
Bound to the tree,
That no man knows
Whither the roots of it run.

(from Poetic Edda)

This is an initiation ritual - perhaps invented for the first time by this original guy Odin who thought it worthwhile to bleed all week long just to get some larger view of the mysteries of life. We don't understand this kind of determination today - we seriously think we can get at it all just by taking those 101 courses at college. What a lame idea, folks.

Another introduction:
Welcome to the runes, a fascinating divinatory system that has its roots in ancient Norse history and mythology. It is an alphabet, a series of divinatory marks, and a magickal method. If you have Germanic/Norse ancestry, you will probably discover that you have a natural affinity and/or affection for the runes as opposed to other divinatory methods. But that doesn't mean that you can't learn to use and enjoy the runes if you are not Germanic. They are equal-opportunity stones.

Legend says that Odin, one of the old Norse gods, hung for nine nights on Yggdrasil, the Tree of the World, and grabbed the runes just before he fell from the tree (take a look at the Hanged Man card in the Tarot deck, and you will see Odin there). This sacrifice was what brought the runes to humankind.

Runes lost favor after World War II, when the Nazi party adopted several runes, most notably the swastika. It has taken many years for the Nazi taint to wear off.

Runic alphabets are called futharks, so named because the first six letters of any version spell out the very word. There are three main futharks: Elder, Younger, and Anglo-Saxon. Chances are that the set of runes you have bought (or made) is an Elder Futhark. Regardless, the pages that follow assume that you are working with Elder Futhark.
Well then, I must have some germanic ancestry just from liking those Runes so much - I don't know how this squares with my jewish ancestry, but maybe some of my distant great-great-grand-mothers was accidentally raped by a german peasant? You never know, right.


I haven't bought or made any Rune sets - I use the internet. It's plenty enough given the randomness of nature and my inability to distinguish between perfect mathematical randomness and the randomness of things happening around me. It's all the same to me as soon as I don't know where it all comes from. In any case the basis is still interpretation - and that's the tricky part in any case.

Being fucked in the neatherworld.

Oh God. I am so fucked I have to fire up the puter and look at those goddam runes. At least something to "talk" to - or that talks to me, or even against me.

The weather is maddeningly gorgeous, and all this sun tells me: what are you waiting for, you fool? It makes me feel totally powerless, this discrepancy between my lethargic mood and the luxurious display of riches and gorgeousness in nature. Why can't I see beyond these fucking four-walls? The prison is all self-made and those walls are in my mind, I fully appreciate that. And yet - what holds me back so much I can't have any faith or movement?


Parable from real life. There was a guy on the suicide group whose story is an example of where things might go. He said he was always somewhat fucked but finally decided to live as he wanted. And what he wanted was: independent income, living in the countryside, and love. One day he was laying on the bed in his shitty room in the city, tossing empty beer cans at the ceiling - and on that day he decided he would open his own bike-mechanic shop. And so he did. And in the same period of "self-realization" he met a woman who shared his desire for country-living and they bought a cheap house in the woods. In this way he seemingly found all he wanted: own income, country-life, and a companion. But then it turned out his woman wanted more than that and she left him. He ended up on the suicide-group: because neither his independance nor that house in the woods could now satisfy his fucked-up state of mind. He lost the more precious of it all - the possibility of being loved. Bitterness did him in, and though I don't know all his story, it is likely that this woman was the only breakthrough he ever had in terms of that possibility.

In fact this is a parable about desires, will, and so-called self-realization. Quite obviously willpower and pushing for what you long for is not the only thing out there. It gives a high but once the goals are attained, it all goes down and becomes useless - like climbing the mountains. Once you've climbed all your mountains, you come down to where you were. To your fucked-upness. And the hell begins anew. What is this hell made of, really?


I don't know this guy or what happened to him since. And in a way I don't care. But his story tells me a few things about my own dealings with life. The biggest problem is not that I can't climb all those mountains I long to climb, figuratively speaking - the problem is that I am so deathly unable to break out of my own shell and accept cooperation from the world and people. Love is not some incredible rosy dream or an additional candy in the sweet-basket of self-promotion - nah, it's the result of being able to get along with people and with oneself, of just settling for who you are and what comes by. To me it has never been a goal worth pursuing in itself because I only see it as a result and a consequence of something else - of coming to terms with my insignificance, quite simply. I don't know how many more of those "self-realizations" I'd have to attain to reach even a semblance of that state. What lures me however is that I can't see any other way of getting there.

Is there some other way? And what is this whole deal about willpower in any case - what does it really mean?


First casting, right on the nail:

NAUTHIZ: Need, Self-Preservation
Resistance within you may create your experience of resistance in the world. Where have you limited yourself? To what have you given so much power that it can cause you such pain? Claim the wisdom of patience and attend to what's needed now, or your hurt has no meaning. This is the Rune of the FORGING OF CHARACTER.

Additional blah-blah: Another somewhat negative rune, the meaning of Nauthiz is apparent in its other spelling, Nied-pronounced "need." When Nauthiz appears in a reading, it almost always indicates something that the querent needs. What that something is will often be spelled out in the surrounding runes. Most important, though, is that until the querent does something about this need, she will be restricted or constrained from moving forward.
Sometimes Nauthiz will appear as a warning of upcoming trouble, delay, ill health, or shortage of some kind, and because of this, Nauthiz can be interpreted to mean "maintain the status quo."

Additional casting, twice the same goddam rune:

DAGAZ: Daylight, Dawn
Night shifts into day; for a moment, opposites are reconciled, the paradox of spirit and flesh transcended. One liminal instant arises in which, if radical faith and intense willpower are fused, a leap can be taken which will forever alter the Pattern of your life. Be alert; recognize this moment, and seize it. This is the Rune of BREAKTHROUGH.

Or/and maybe this: Dagaz, which traditionally means day, has a lot to do with attitude-it can indicate a change of mind or heart on the part of a querent. Sometimes, it shows that querent has decided to make the best of a situation that he can't control.
If you look at it closely, you can start to see that Dagaz resembles the lemniscate (sideways figure eight), the symbol of infinity. In this way, Dagaz in a cast indicates the unlimited possibilities before a person, the idea of "the sky's the limit."



American presidential debate.

Started to watch american presidential debate. Quit watching american presidential debate.

No comments.

Thursday, September 30, 2004

Michel Montaigne:

Montaigne is famous for arguing that man is not in any way superior to the beasts, in fact, quite the contrary.

If anything this would be enough to qualify this thinker as a true skeptic - which sheds an interesting light on skepticism as a thoroughly personal approach to life - that's where you cease to see what all the broohaha was ever about.


Curiously I've never read a line of Montaigne despite a long-standing desire to finally do so. For some reason I feel I first need to settle down and take a laid-back view of things - Montaigne is not a solver, he looks back on all the matters of the world and laughs contentedly. Now that it all ceased to matter, he can look from afar and reflect. I can't follow him there yet - I am still too much in the thick of things (paradoxically I am - even if I do strictly nothing all day long, heh).


But actually: what bullshit. It's just that I need to find an edition where the language is accessible - I fucking can't read XVIc french - nay, ich kann aber nicht.

Siegfried's funeral march from "Twilight of the Gods" by Wagner - just an mp3 file, truncated of course. If I had Mozart's Requiem it'd be just as good. Dies irae, dies illa... quite so indeed. *That* day - that's any day when you die. Just as good.

I have definitely fallen out with things that used to "matter". I guess that's because they're no use anymore. All I can say about Nietzsche today is that he is an interesting philosopher - and that my relation to this philosopher (or any other out there) has basically faded away for lack of consequence.

Of course this is a pretty standard experience - losing a sense of things pretty much forever. The only problem I see with it is that in certain cases, like my own and similar, nothing really comes to replace what has been discarded or lost. It's all fine and dandy to get vapidly preoccupied with stock-exchange instead of high-brow philosophy (does happen quite a bit out there) but at least it's something to be preoccupied with. What do you do if you still can't see the point of stock-exchange and yet can't see the point of high-brow philosophy anymore either?

Google skipped a chunk of my blog archives - probably due to database fuck-up during all those changes by Blogger. Fortunately I can index it manually with a personalized engine. I will forget to do it regularly of course but at least all the fucked-up portions are now accessible. This is the record of my fucked-up life - it's so screwed I have to go back and verify things really did happen as I remember they did. It's never quite clear - especially when i am inclined to lie to myself.

I am being dead in here and I cannot quite figure out why it is that this place makes me so dead. This whole city makes me dead - not because it's such a bad city but because of everything I've known here and the way this city weighs on me has nothing to do with what other people experience as "this city". This fucking place is not on the map and I haven't got any desire to draw the unique plan of this goddam hole in any case.

Therefore my complaints will forever remain incomprehensible, uncharted, and indefensible - I could care less.

It would probably do me some good if I went down with some deadly disease - at least it would put things into perspective, something i can't seem to be able to do on my own. Thereafter, even if I die from it, I'd still have touched on what matters - for once, and perhaps too late.

The problem is not lack of life - it is the lack of a grasp on life.

No good. Not the right time. Nothing works. Forget it and lay in wait. Calibrating a badly out-of-tune instrument. Patience please.

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

So what's the situation?

The situation is this - it's pretty damn cold out there, in the open I mean. So the next unavoidable step is to gather my wits and my good luck and go get some shoes that can handle this weather - some sort of boots, right.

The next reasonable step would be to find something to supplement my sleeping bag for warmth as it certainly can't handle near-zero temps as it is.

The third step is probably still that rain-suit - the vynil one i've got will get me wet on the inside in any kind of serious rain - and frankly, if it's cold rain as it would be in october, i gotta wonder what it will be like biking in it. Seems to me would be a bit hellish.


But the main thing is: the root-canal is half-done since yesterday and once the "bruise" goes away, it won't be bothering me anymore. So I can take off now if i want. Right. Do I want to? It seems like I do but who knows.


I will need some luck to pull it all together - like if I can't find no shoes, what do I do etc.

Of course I can also take my tender-leather city boots with me and ruin them forever - they're not really designed to walk in tall grass full of dew or some dirt road full of rocks. I never suspected I would actually get around to explore such primitive conditions - hence no proper footwear around.


Another thing is the bike itself. I thought of changing the derailleur, putting on a longer chain as well as a front derailleur - but it might all be a bit too ambitious for my current skills. The rear-wheel is still as wobbly as ever and I am not exactly sure I can handle the truing process without completely ruining it (this being my first attempt at it). So maybe I won't do a damn thing to the bike and just use it as is already.

Finally there is this problem of not enough space in the so-called panniers. I intend to carry that big thermos with me on this fall-trip after all. Not to mention all the cold-weather clothing that will make packing somewhat bulkier than it was in august. Will have to think of some work-around - one idea is to put a sports-bag on the rear rack and attach sleeping-bag and wool blanket to the side instead. Experimenting due.

Also - no mat to put under sleeping bag. Should I get one? It's pretty bulky. Might regret not having one, with the much colder ground-level temps. Hmm.


In the end it's all very relative - I might as well forget a few of these "requirements" and take off regardless. The main thing is this: do I want it bad enough yet?

Blogging randomly.

From time to time I check out technorati (when it works, heh) and it turns out people still read my blog out there. This is obviously the effect of the "next blog" feature on the blogger-bar: because my blog is shit and is counter-promotional, so if people ever get to find it, it can only be by pure total and random accident.

If I had a speedier connection I'd probably surf to random blogs too with that feature - I tried it and I have to turn the graphics off all the time to make it worthwhile. Plus it shortly falls onto a blog that is not blogspot-hosted and the surf ends there. What happens next? I forget about it. That's what happens. But basically it's because surfing is such a slow business with my facilities here.

Also I stopped linking like I used to, having become all self-centered and preoccupied with my precious nothingness. In a way it's good because otherwise I am too tempted to fall into political or hi-tech blogging which is a rut in itself and I don't want to do it anymore - hopefully never. It has proved true every time in the past: if I stop doing something, I never do it again. So I think I am pretty safe in that respect - I will never blog again either about Eirak or about Browsers. Who the fuck cares.

On ICQ now if you push the button "random uin" - one time out of two it will be either a chinese or asian contact - it's probably normal due to the massive population out there, but it's ennoying for non-asian people - it wasn't like that a mere 5 years ago. The world has changed, indeed.

I expect this will turn out to be the case for the "next blog" on blogger-bar in about 3 years from now, say - so click on while you can still read what's out there, heh.

Canadian winter as a psychological phenomenon.

Regarding compassion-euthanasia debate raging in Canada at the moment: I think Canada would be very much like Holland by now if only Canadians were as decisive and willing to militate for their opinions as the Dutch seem to be. Ask people in the street now and you'll hear public opinion being massively in favor of both euthanasia and mild drugs made legal.

So where the fuck is the problem?

The problem is - everybody is sorry that some father gets jailed for 10 years for having aided the death of his suffering kid - but no one will ever do shit about this. And this is the way Canada is: very liberal on the whole, and very-very passive.

Monday, September 27, 2004


I keep drawing this enigmatic rune and it tells me: back off, find your true ground, back off, keep to your roots, to what is familiar. I've been drawing it every single fucking day for the past week if not more - well, maybe not every day, but those few days when I had the runes of fire and light (kenaz, sol, dagaz) were short-lived to say the least.

Ah shit - I am not saying I understand anything here - quite the contrary in fact - but it's a pretty good measure of my stupidity, or the current state of my affairs which is best defined as wanton dissipation and inability to find anything to stand on. That's how I interpret it - I can't interpret beyond my understanding in any case.

The most succint definition I found so far is this (supplemented by a lot of blah-blah from other sources):

OTHALA: Retreat, Roots
Charging headlong into impossibility is foolish. Circumstances now arise in which strategic withdrawal and timely assessment of your inner resources are the right actions. Rely now on your "fastnesses:" friends, family, power places, familiar spiritual practice. This is the Rune of REGROUPING.

Who said "foolish"? Regrouping is a very keen word here - the fact is something doesn't let me budge, this something sitting somewhere pretty deep inside myself and telling me I am being a fool. I agree, I agree, I agree - where do I need to look though?

Another meaning for this are the reasons of procrastination. As a matter of fact, when you're being particularly "lazy" about some glorious project, it usually means something is not right somewhere, some ends are sticking out. Overshooting your true state or something like that. I vividly remember how and when I finally took the decision to ride off into the sunset - it felt so right, so perfect, so precise - and there were no specific reasons for it to feel that way. And yet - things had matured, came into focus, I took off like an arrow from a bow strung to full force.

What can I explain here? Can I really explain all that has been holding me back for so long, for so many years, for that one month in a short summer, for that period of time in my totally incomprehensible life? or maybe even the appeal and the meaning of what I was trying to achieve or overcome, the why of it? No, fuck, I can't.

My "familiar spiritual practice" is blogging - heh, I am not kidding.

As to "power places" I fucking have none!

I have that dentist appointment in about 15 minutes - I will not miss it - but I will certainly be shamefully late.


The weather has been *glorious* all of the past week including today - it stands there like an accusing judge, laughing at my willlessness.

I have nothing to say in my defense except that I severly screwed up all of my own plans and designs - through wanton dissipation, stupidity and nagging laziness. Why? I don't know why - because that's how I am - a miserable fuck unable to see the light even when it shines right into my face.


I bow my head to my stupidity - it rules, quite obviously - "oh my king and master" and so on.


As well I would like to announce that my computer will likely burn down again soon as there seem to be quite alarming problems with the power-supply - my brother says something might be wrong with the circuitry in my flat, given those two burned computers in the past and this one about to take the same route.

Oh well - it's the anti-hi-tech place in here, quite naturally.

Mother arrested in suspected assisted suicide

MONTREAL - A Montreal woman is about to be charged with first-degree murder in the death of her playwright son, which police allege may be a case of assisted suicide.

Charles Fariala, 36, was found dead at his suburban Montreal home Sunday morning after his mother called 911, said police. Fariala, whose play Victoria, about a woman's aging and dying, is due to be performed at the National Arts Centre in October, reportedly had multiple sclerosis.

Police have not revealed how he appeared to have died, but said the 59-year-old mother, who they did not name, told them it was an assisted suicide. Fariala had no external injuries, according to the police. The cause of death remained officially unknown, pending autopsy results.

An assisted suicide case is currently before the Vancouver courts. A 74-year-old woman is facing 14 years in prison on two charges of assisting two women to commit suicide.

CBC Archives: Sue Rodriguez and the Right-To-Die Debate

Sunday, September 26, 2004

Wonderful weather outside - instead I am holed out in this crappy flat of mine trying to avoid reality by chatting online - fuck this - on the other hand I have a dentist appointment tomorrow - and yet on another hand, i could have had that appointment last monday - and on the third hand, I am crapping out big time here.

Patience is a virtue - especially with oneself :-0

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