All the bad things you wish on your siblings in envy when you're young, what if those wishes are fulfilled when you grow up? And they build up, and only one of you gets hit, for Fortuna saw that you were treated wrong, and those wrongs shall be made right in one action. It's the stuff of suicides and late-night shows.
And we start using words like "whereas" and "thus," and we feel like we are hated and loved, always wronged and always treated so unjust. And we blame disease, and we go to lengths, and we have a sip, and we fall apart.
We take our leave of the Past, and follow instead the Future. We don't look over our shoulders, for there are the people we used to be, and we dare not face them. "Hey," a scream is sounded from the lips that are no longer ours, "your face is dirty, but I don't know your name."
And old plans that work out by random chance, and waking up at two AM though your clock says its ten, and we are disappointed with the people we never believed in, and let them convince us again that that which we never had we can have once again, and thus it is fulfilled.
And the songs we never liked, that burn through our souls because we know we should love them now; and the first chapter and the last, or is the latest the first and the old one's a memory? You should fix your amnesia cause you're incoherent.
Either that, or we're only liars. And it's all about who's the best.
The meaninglessness of hatred. It takes willpower. Love is easy.
The art of construction lies within the created. The art of destruction lies within the act itself.
Destruction must surely be superior, even if the result might not be.
The art of deconstruction must lie both within the result and within the act.
So deconstruction must surely be superior, and the result will be as well.
So I had another Tuesday yesterday. It was nice at first, though a bit boring. I browsed through every forum I know of, found a bunch of Schoolyard Heroes demos on their forum (the thread was like a year old as well, I might suck a bit). But then I went to my extra gym thing. I guess I could sum it up like this: my teacher thinks I have asthma. Doesn't sound too unlikely.
I didn't even make a kilometre. I just had to stop. I couldn't breath, and I mean couldn't breath. I sat down for 20 minutes, managed to get some water, sat there for 20 minutes more, stopped coughing and hissing every second, went home. Stopped halfway and sat down in the grass under a tree, for maybe 20 minutes again. And got home. Where my parents were screaming angry. I was still fatigued. Couldn't sleep till 3AM. Could have been better.
Today I slept all day. Got up after a while I admit, sat down and played games for some hours. Take away. Now here I am.
Tomorrow I actually have a class again. Swedish. Have to rewrite my paper I think, it's really weird. Supposed to be an "odyssey." Maximum of two pages. I'm thinking I'll write about a person buying ice cream.
Friday is off again. If I get to sleep in time I can get up and spend the day outside. Or even better on my balcony with tea. Our balcony..I love it. Plants everywhere, wood on the floor, that's about it. It's got electricity but no net.
Boring crap entry. But this is what they should actually be like, not... crammed full of weird stuff.
Don't worry. I wrote a full weird entry as well. I'll post it later.
Screw that imaginary point later on.
It came true? I'd say it did. Do I regret it? I regret nothing. If I could go back in time? I'd bring a gun.
It's so weird that it actually makes me happy.
Maybe I'm one of those very few, actually unselfish human beings on earth.
I think I'm mad.
To be an ambulance driver. Or something like that. A doctor. Helping all these people, and being the greatest thing in the world for them. And then they get better and go back to their lives. For a while. Until they hurt themselves again. You see them for a moment. One couldn't get emotionally attached to them. Or a psychologist. But one would, wouldn't one. I could never be that. Just jabbering on about nonsensical things and helping them feel better so they can go have fun again. Never. Could I do that.
So a teacher then? that's so much better? All these kids running around and you see them and you want to take care of them cause you see they need it. And. You just can't. I'd need to teach older kids. But really... I. Don't like the sound of it. I'd enjoy it, sure. Certainly. But I'm not sure I want to do that. Because. What is teaching. Making people into the people you see everyday. Could say that it's important. Could say that hey you're ruining the world.
How do you enact specialness in a world like this, with no knights, dragons, duels, so on? In a world with six billion inhabitants. First thought to cross my mind is that I don't want to help them, as they don't deserve it. But then.. it fades.. into all these wonderful people. What a doom, aye. To be born a human. Instinctively loving human beings. And on their own, they are wonderful. But they'd all die on their own. And together they are. The greatest horror to befall... man?
Maybe I should just become a professor of mathematics at Christ Church. Start taking photos. Making visits. Go on a little boat trip. Enact my fantasy. Write a book about a little girl and a white rabbit. A future? Well. He was a brilliant mathematician yet he is remembered only for those two books. I don't really care about being remembered by the entire world... What I do care about is doing something to it. Thing is, I don't know what... And chances are, when i find out, I'll be far too old and wise to tell anyone.
[This is constant writing until my brother goes to sleep, so expect nothing amazing, just rambling that won't be proof-read.]
Well, today I feel a lot more mellow than yesterday. So this is going to be a more coherent I'm-watching-a-film-whilst-typing-this-kind-of-entry. What film you say? A Tale Of Two Sisters, Korean horror movie from -03.
I saw that Jena Malone had just been in a horror film. So I'm getting it. The Ruins, it is called.
Honestly, critics seem not to really love it. But then, this one guy said it was great cause it was built around tension instead of gore. And honestly. How scary is gore. I have gore for breakfast. I ate noodles watching Ichi the Killer. So I'm kinda. Stoked, is that how you put it. Hah. But I am I suppose.
I ran home most of the way today. Walked/ran through the forest. I don't fancy running on paths and stuff, feels so. Unnecessary. It's not like I'm in a rush. But the forest, it's nice. Hearing your feet hit the soft ground. It basically demands boots though.
Oh, why I'm not watching my film? Brother still up. And watching a film alone... well it should be done with no one around or at least awake, no? In my opinion any way. To enjoy it fully.
I love enjoying things fully. Why have a sandwich when you can lie down in bed turn on good music eat a sandwich have some tea and some saft and read something at the same time. Making sure one won't have to visit the loo in a while, and that no one will disturb you, that there are no disturbing blinking lights, that everything is just right.
It makes for problems however. If every moment is stowed with maximum enjoyment, you get a lot of empty free time. So you have to find more enjoying things to do. And they wont really be that enjoying any more, since you've had better. I have a really good memory for feelings and smells, the latter a catalyst for the first as well.
In the same way, things like doing homework become more boring. Or, not necessarily boring, as I tend to enjoy it when I get started. But it's a lot harder to start doing something which your bastard of a mind connects with boredom.
Going to write until my brother puts his light out. He just lay down in bed so won't be thaat long.
He's just reading old comics. Like, ages old. Lil kids' comics. He likes them though, so yeah. I like comics. Not that kind though. I mean I actually read my brothers comics for enjoyment, Donald Duck. But really I tend to skip a lot cause they tend to suck.
I read a... 8 issues a year comic and a 4 issues a year comic. That I actually pay for. Other than that I couldn't care more for comics.
Web-comics is another thing. I read... Two regularly. And occasionally update myself on three more. And then, I read Jessica Monster's comics. Though she's an artiste see so they don't exactly come three times a week before midnight. Then, they're awesome as well.
Suppose though, that caring about comics at all is kinda geeky. Then, I am geeky, so hah on you. I have read all the D&D-rule books and I don't even play it. I know the basic rules for a bunch more games. I occasionally play WC3 and even less frequently I play shoot-em-ups. I'll probably play WAR when it's released, though I'll have to get wind ows for the mac first.
So, I remember when I used to listen to some songs by The Killers and just feel them surge through my body like still some songs manage to do. And now I hear them and it's just. Oh this stuff again. Now that goes for a lot of bands. I used to listen to loads of music that I no longer pay any heed to except for rare sentimental reasons.
FOB. (no.. I actually listen to some of their songs.. rarely..)
AFI. (well. a couple of songs then. to be heard during snowfall.)
Garbage. (yeah see below)
Kill Hannah (I suppose, haven't listened to them for. Months.)
Those are the ones that come to me of my mind (yeah I looked through iTunes briefly).
Then. I saw Sex Pistols. And I was hit by the realisation that shit, I used to listen to that. And Rancid and NoFX and... Well a lot more. I used to be such a..part time punk.-
That passed. Goth passed. Hippie passed. Man I've been a lot of stuff. Such a poseur, aye? well suppose I am. I'm okay with that. As long as I do what I feel like. Right now I walk around in brand clothes and leather shoes and soomewhat fixed hair.
That just doesn't do for summer. Summer = t-shirts, if cold hoodies, rivet-like pants.. or goth-like at least. Or. Hippie like. Any kind of non-ordinary pants. That don't look like total shit in my eyes. Idk. Summer pants, to put it simply.
I'm doing my hair white/bone/orange again. With more white and less orange hopefully. I want to shave off a part. I've wanted to for a good while really. And since that's the only part really, I'll go left. A bit of the stuff above my ear only. It might happen. It might happen.
Well. My brother just put his light out. So I'm going to watch Koreans die now.
Okay I got stuck reading about geometry. You'd be surprised to see how often this happens. Or maybe you wouldn't. My last wisdom teeth or whatever you call them in the angelic anglican language are growing and they are a blast to play with. Film to start after this song. Lunchbox and Memories by Jena Malone. And it's rolling.
All right. All right. I'll just go to bed. Watch the rest tomorrow. I've slept far too badly lately. Sorry for posting such a stupid piece of writing. I think it's going to be deleted as I don't like unnecessary entries. Might edit it down to something though. We'll see. As for the film? Quality was horrible. But it was watchable, in fact everyone looked scary with that pixelation. It was scary as well, or, the last five minutes I saw before turning it off were. Might be that it's dark and quite though. Ima just sleep now. No last line. With incredible humnour or
I'm gonna make this a live-report on my watching of Rob Zombie's Halloween.
(No, I didn't watch it earlier, as my brother was going to a friend's. But 11PM is excellent for this.)
First, I should mention that my head is filled up with creepy confusion. It is like, once again, my view on life has changed. This time, because of a little girl. And I don't even know what is different. Just that stuff doesn't feel the same any more. It seems, the more intense these "realisations" or whatever become, the harder it becomes to actually define them. Then, I'm working on gaining insanity before age 18. It's a goal well put. And one that shouldn't be too hard to reach.
Terra Naomi was tonight's album of the day.
I'm going to plug in my earphones now. Let the something something begin.
Calculated the title. Now for the earphones (and associated iPod, I suppose).
I have been everywhere! ...turns out the earphones were right next to me. I've got raspberry saft, yay me.
Okay so it was sort of creepy. Scary. Idk. For a horror movie it was scary. But it was good.
Wasn't much of a live-report this though. Nor a review, though I really didn't promise one. Nor will I make one, I hate reviews. People who rate movies are always pretentious fuckfaces. Mostly. I think.
Then. I never do read reviews.
Well. It's sleepy time. Been for a while. Long day tomorrow, yess.
A couple of weeks ago, I talked to a girl in my class. She said she had no dreams. And that she was happy about it. Now this is a sane girl. In the isn't-a-complete-moron-kind-of-way. Or I wouldn't have had that conversation with her at all, after all.
And, though my reasoning with her must have seemed delirious at best, a couple of days after that conversation, I started feeling that. Well. Wouldn't that be awesome. Just feeling like you are totally normal. Like there's nothing special about you. Just go through life.
Life doesn't work that way, does it. Take one bite of the apple, and you're hooked. Should have cut that snake up good while I could. But it's too late now. And life has only just started.
Then, of course, I stopped thinking like that. Oblivion is for fools. But I'll be damned if I don't get married and have children in the process. Shit. I still want two daughters. Or a daughter and a son. Though really, having a son can go piss itself. I want one little girl. With baggy pants. And evil eyes.
Now that's my heritage.
Oh, and.. death and decay. Naturally.
If I'm making no sense that's okay. It's the new thing. No one is making no sense.
Now. Sleepy time. Once again. And. No.
This is sleepy time. I'll talk to you later. Maybe.
I could immediately smell it. The rank, foul odour was everywhere. I had come to expect it by now, though. It covers the world like a thick sheet. It's like it's always been there, pestering, disgusting, everywhere. It hasn't always been like this, but I remember nothing else. My nose forced another breath of the rancid fumes into my struggling lungs and it bit and teared at my insides. It was much like drowning in filth. I was raised next to one of the furnaces who's chimneys bellowed the noxious smoke into the world. Were it not for my loving parents, I would have succumbed to the horror in which others live; blissfully oblivious. And I inhale.
The smell of the trees filled me with bliss. Never had a cold spring evening felt so glorious, since the last time I left my house after 9PM. Natures scent was a violent embrace, strangling me with its spiked tentacles. It was as if I had fallen in love with the moment itself, but hurt infinitely inside me, as I knew moments always come to an end. It was sheer pleasure and perfection; for some few fleeting scenic seconds, existence was wondrous.
There was a program about Russian ballet on TV. Old dancers. I don't know. It's like, every old person on the street has a life story. I want to be one of the ones who has nothing important to tell.
You don't know life and want to be set free.
So someone came to you two years ago. So someone explained the world to you. Someone left you something. They said you were important. They said you'd never see them again, but they were trying to scare you. Don't worry. Someone always comes back.
My net keeps screwing me over. We're in this difficult period and I blame my self mostly.
It never lets me online. And when it does, from time to time, it goes real slow to the point of nothing happening.
I survive though, I have this cable that connects me directly. But I prefer my real net to it, any day.
I believe I'm the happiest little hamsterlover on this side of the planet. Now you may ask how you tell sides of a sphere but that's not what we're talking about now is it. In 20 breathtakingly heartbreaking, violently exciting, mind-bogglingly mad, insanely expectant yet amazingly average minutes, another third will be added to my triforce of awesome.
Let me sum it up.
Thank you, thank you.
No, really. Thanks. I never expected this. I will use this opportunity to kill orphans and consume your souls with yoghurt.
Instead of changing, things seem to morph in the now.
Quite different to death, it's not rebirth but rather... an utter change of the past.
But assuming the past is consistent and won't change, the flow of events is no different than it were.
Oblivion is all there is.
The spring comes every year until it doesn't come any more. That is my truth.
Spring is the awakening of nature and divine, excluding the insomniac man who never sleeps. That is my belief.
Nature and divine are eternal but will sleep indefinitely if need be. For now, they are awake. For now, they call to us in appeal and command, to... to... to fulfil our role as the bastards of the world, conceived from the unholy copulation of spirit and earth. We are called to drink the nectar of nature, and imbibe the ambrosia of gods. One is the other, and both are one. Their mistake has been made and it cannot be undone, for a mother loves her rapist child. That is my belief.
We are the demigods. We are the creators of man. We are the rapists. We are the saga. We are the heroes and we are the fiends. We are the fallen and we are the risen. We are the travellers. We are the foul and we are the wicked. We are the fair and we are the virtuous. We are the warriors of destiny. We are the forgotten.
They are the writers. They are the end. They are the lost souls, they are a failure. They are the last mistake. They are the dreamers. They'll be the preacher men, our bards, our believers, our doubters. They are man.
We are the subjects. They are the ever young.
They are the objects. We are the ever sung.
You praise till the end. You be the last line. You be the fighter. You be the teacher. You be the novice.
You'll be confused, and of course you will fail. You'll be a legend.
It's magic. That's why. The magic of perfection. Consider it. Evolve.
How can I possibly be scared. I've feared the opposite for so long. How can I possibly be scared.
I procrastinate everything for want of better things to do.
Lucid dreams of waking nightmares.
Waking up I am relieved
To see again that dreams are real.
I was going to take a walk today. Go to that place. Watch the spring like I watched the autumn.
Watch it bloom like I watched it fall apart.
I try to stick to the seasons but it seems things don't work according to nature's laws.
I gave a kid a bag of sweets today. I haven't felt that good in ages.
Guess I'll have to steal twice as much candy from children in the future.
I was walking home, thinking about my bro's friend all the way, thinking obsessively that he would suddenly be walking there or something.
So I turned a corner after some 30 minutes, and there he is on his bike, with his father.
The dude lives a mile from here. It was so freaky.
I feel better, I feel better now there's nothing wrong.
I got better, I got better, I got strong.
Tell me something, tell me something I don't know,
Tell me one thing, tell me one thing, let it go.
I got something, I got something heaven knows,
I got something, I got something I don't know