So I was thinking, I should make a clock that does one tick for every heartbeat I make.
Then, if I forget to wind it, I'll fall down dead.
104 I think we're at now. That's a longer time than you'd think.
If you only had that long to live, you'd be sure to make it last longer.
Then, you could just lie in the grass. Listen to the birds, and the wind in the trees.
He wore a scarlet tunic.
a blue green hood,
it looked quite good.
He had a big adventure
amidst the grass
fresh air at last.
And then one day hooray,
for gnomes to say
So I've been listening to shuffle for roughly a week now. Which makes for a lot of different music cause I have a lot of stuff on my iPod. I mean, hey, most of it I like. Only skip stuff like the Smurfs and the odd operetta thingy.
So I've been getting all these songs in my head. Like, stuff I didn't know i knew the lyrics of. So now something said, hey, listen to comeback kid. And it took me a while. But it's by Silversun Pickups. So I'm listening to it right now.
Well. So. The purpose of this entry....... I dunno. A pledge to you to kill a random person? Come on if we all do it, imagine how the world would change! It'd be awesome.
So. Keep writing entries, dude. Keep writing entries. In time. A reason for it will show up.
So edit, right. Cause it must have been Can't Take it by aar. I mean it's been in my head all day and yesterday.
but hey. when i think of those two songs. when i see them. like. oh crap on you, anyway, they look just the same basically. I mean. Can't Take it is more.. well crap on you, I say. Crap on you and good night.
Oh it's a crazy house we all live in.
We run, and run, and run.
Even when we think we're standing still, we run. It's like the world just goes so much faster at times.
Oh and sometimes, everything feels all right.
But we know better than to trust that feeling, we all do.
And sometimes we run in the darkness and sometimes we run in the sun.
Sometimes it's all just so beautiful.
For no reason at all? No, but because there is no reason, and there's a difference.
For the absence sometimes of what ruins beauty, and because there is no reason.
It's a crazy place.
I got Japanese muffin today. It was awesome.
I took pictures. I did mega-cool picture fixin to put them all into one. Took like 30 min.
Then I managed to screw it up so suffice to say it was green, with brown stuff in it.
I have to write a 256th don't I... But I really don't feel like it.
I don't feel like much at all today. I think I'll watch a film. If I keep writing really stupid entries that are about nothing at all, will my views/entry go down to a more reasonable two?
Well I just watched Meet the Spartans the other half an hour. And they started playing I Will Survive. And it'd seem everywhere I go I hear that song. It came up on shuffle on my iPod, and I played it by accident on iTunes, and I heard it in school the other day. Well. That doesn't mean anything though, does it.
Was going to write something here but can't think of anything.
So, to finish it off with something everyone can enjoy: a sick joke.
Though I can't decide on one.
I mean, I'll go with this one. Not really sick though. I suppose not everyone likes sick jokes.
A Northern Territory farm hand radios back to the farm manager.
"Boss, I gotta helluva problem here. I hit a pig with the truck. The pig's ok, but he's stuck in the bullbars at the front of my truck and is wriggling and squealing so much I can't get him out."
The manager says, "Ok, there's a .303 rifle behind the seat. Take it, shoot the pig in the head and you'll be able to remove him."
Five minutes later the farm hand calls back, "I did what you said boss. Took the .303, shot the pig in the head and removed him from the bull-bars. No problem there, but I still can't go on".
"Now what's the problem?" raged the Manager.
"Well boss, it's his motor-bike. The flashing blue light is stuck under the right-front wheel arch.
"You there Boss?"
I wanna watch Ichi the Killer again.
So it was early in the morning, I was sitting quite alone. And a great terror struck me. And nothing was ever like before.
Read some entries.
Nothing has changed.
To live in oblivion.
Wish I could.
So much to say.
Time flies by.
Time stands still.
Two hours spent in the past.
It's all I do.
Write a private?
No, too scared.
I keep deleting, because I'm scared.
I don't think you get it.
I wish I didn't get it.
Then, I wish I didn't care.
If I could go back, what would I say?
"It will change soon, don't worry, keep going."
Sometimes I condone lying to oneself.
I watched a movie a while back. It was last year. They said that human nature involves a lot of feeling, and that we need to act out that feeling. But we can't. We evolve too slowly to adapt to the society we've built in the last thousands of years. Instead, our bodies act all that shut up feeling out on our selves. It is a main reason for many things, such as kidney stones and depression. Or we act it out on ourselves, in a variety of ways, including, extremely, suicide. This includes all shut up feelings, not just anger, but sadness, happiness, love, &c, if we are not able or allowed to vent them to the world.
The birds won't sing,
I don't hear the wind.
One third of spring
Tears at my rind.
But if I can't write this, I tell my self, what use is there?
I've had this, quite, weird feeling all day. Thinking about my snot.
It's lovely isn't it. - Snot.
Green, slimey and runs down your nose. I quite enjoy it. Very much so.
When you eat spicy food and you can feel it coming.
I've never ever burped.
What have I done today?
I've eaten spicy food and enjoyed my snot.
Snot on buns - it's quite lovely. - Indeed.
I was on the bus. The driver was awesome. He went quite fast, and was simultaneously talking to this lady, and doing stuff with buttons, and solving her ticket problems. I mean. Okay. He isn't even supposed to do that. But he was. I don't know. But he made my bus ride. Really nice. Any way.
I had PE today. We had boxing. And obviously, you need to be in pairs. And we are uneven so end up the odd one out. Partially I suppose because my iPod broke down just the second we were divided, so I had to fix it, and by that time.. Well I did a lot of gym shit instead. With this girl. Whom I didn't really talk to. And shit, it's not really bad. I do that shit nearly every time we have PE, because a basketball accident has enlarged my fear of balls to.. well I don't like them, that's about it. Tomorrow we have swimming. And crap I hate swimming with school, but it can be okay, but mainly. I don't take the chlorine in the pools very well, it makes it hard to breath for me. So more gym tomorrow, with that girl. Whom I didn't really talk to much. And the point, let's see..
The point.. I suppose. I have convinced myself I hate PE and physical shit and.. so on. So I suppose I do. But I don't. Like. .. I have training two times a week. But I always miss one for different reasons. I can't be motivated to do anything I have to do. Which includes that.I mean. I know it's fun when I get there. Okay it's kinda fun any way. But when I have to go and.....it becomes. Not-going.
The point.. I suppose. I have no friends in my class. I suppose.. I mean, no, I know I could have. Or at least I could have had. But I screwed that chance over on purpose cause they were all... Shit, I wouldn't want them for friends. Most of them. I mean there are some. And we were friends. And then one day, all of a sudden. One of these girls starts being a bitch. Not talking to me, not saying hi in corridors.......and shit I'm not the person to talk to her. I'm not that kind of person. Not someone I've known for a month. Well I barely talk to them. Sometimes. One of them I talk to. And she's nice.
I do talk to people. in my class. It's just that I don't... Make the best of friends in the whole wide world with them. I've learnt their last names. Call me a. Stupid fucker. I suppose I am. But.... hey I admit it.
I do have friends in other classes. Like.... French. This guy. We hang out on breaks at times. He's totally cool. Though he tends to make me skip class at times. Which sucks because, a, I've missed too much, b, I don't want to skip, c, err, well. It sucks a bit, but it's nice as well. Damn, I had a third reason. I know it.
It's all pitch black outside.
Okay they're all superficial drunken idiots, that's why I don't bother with most people.
And then there are all my friends from my old school, they all go to my new school. What happened to them?
One ignores me for his new ones, and supposedly, for drugs. And I mean, I wish I could help the guy. But he barely says hi to me any more. And he's stubborn. But damn me I've tried, I suppose. Also he owes me at least £200.
One managed to let everyone know that he doesn't see me and priorly mentioned guy because we "do too much drugs." And shit, Shut up. I've made mistakes. But that was so very long ago. And he knows it. And what's more, appealing to our long and strong friendship wasn't a fucking problem when you wanted to haggle. Fucktard.
Shit I'm hearing things and probably seeing things as well. Which wouldn't worry me. If it wasn't for talking to my self.
I talk to my self. I catch myself doing it. I've always.. talked to my self. In my head. Thinking. Like everyone does. But I've started talking to my self. Like, not much. But sometimes uncontrolled.
And shit, I don't give shit for shrinks.
But shit. That's the kind of thing I've caught myself saying to my self without even thinking about it.
Okay. I mean, shit. I know it's nothing.
I actually had stuff to write. But I never do when I sit down to put them on paper or.. shit.
Because I'm always forgetting stuff. I keep finding memories. Like, deja vu. Only I know when.. like.. shit.
Okay fuck that.
I keep forgetting dreams. Though. Which irritates me. Because... Okay it's my fault. (But can you ever blame a person for any thing? Crap I need to stop thinking.) I just don't have the energy to write my dreams down.
And yet. I go to bed early. I wake up early. And ms. PE says people my age should sleep 10-12 hours which I and most if not all people certainly don't, so in other words, I tend to be tired.
And without energy.
(Reconnexion to my martial arts practice here..)
I was lying in bed. And thinking. Okay I was listening to music. And thinking. So. and kiss the girls of centerfolds on the tongue
and die young
or possibly. And he's a real animal
Gone out of control
Who'd rather die young than get old
No, it was Kennedy.
Die young. And then. What if we are reincarnated. And we live again. It's all suffering any way. Trying to succeed is suffering. Failing to succeed is suffering. Success won't exclude suffering either. And then reincarnation, which brings us back to the cycle. For more suffering. I suppose. If you don't aim for nirvana, you better hell not die young. Youth and the struggle tends to be the most suffering. And possibly the most joy.
But shit, that is built on reincarnation.......
I was just thinking about it, okay.
Pff, So I wrote a really long something.
I've got three books to read. Two old translations of Maeterlinck, I don't really know, I think it's some kind of poetry, but, like. It's. Okay. It's metaphysical theory I suppose. Hey I just decided to read some more things by him. And I found this book about raising kids or what..ever? by Rousseau, so I got that one as well...
I'll never get through them, I never do. Shit. I'm.
Not writing important stuff.
Fuck this. So much.
love. and such.
Though. not for most of you. Not.. not really.
I read some books to escape into a reality I do not know.
I read some books to escape into an unreality I do not know.
If I should ever read a book concerning life as I know it, do put a gun to my head.
Cast down your mirrors in contempt.
You should never fear to look your best. But you should never fear not to. The mirror is like a cell, that traps you, and won't let you out. A cell, that is an exact copy of the world you live in. Only, that it makes you think that what you see in it has meaning.
The fact that there is nothing on the other side, but it is without meaning.
19th century illusions of evil, good, and soul. How we kill or hurt what is below us: how could we expect any thing else from those who are above us? If they come, or if they don't, it doesn't matter, we will be until we are no longer. Even that doesn't matter.
Power corrupts. Even if it doesn't, Good has no meaning. There is no meaning in what Good preserves, and no meaning in what it destroys.
There is always something stronger. Even if there isn't, there is no meaning even in omnipotence. It leads to nothing, it leads from nothing, other than what you can see with your own eyes.
No last sentence, reader No. 17.533.
It's death row, for letters.
So I decided to think about what to do with my life. After some very minimal encouragement. I've been thinking for some days now. And I can't decide on any thing. I already know pretty certainly what I want to study. Arabic, and and some related subject. Arabic philosophy, literature, religion. Politics. Something along those lines. But this leads me where? Probably a teaching position, I doubt I'd even get to teach my chosen subjects. So I'd be a teacher or a professor. And teach people things. Yay.
Hello world, My name is Axel, I'm going to teach you proper grammar.
And not that it sounds boring. To me, it doesn't, really. I could live that life. Supposedly. Guess I'm a boring sod. But really, what could you wish for but a loving family if you're lucky and a job? Going after any thing else is really like doing drugs, or drinking, or gambling, or cheating on your spouse. Because those are things you do when life bores you and you seek that fake excitement. Idk. I'm not feeling up to explaining what I mean.
Suffice to say I could content with that life. Maybe, I don't know yet of course.
But why would I? When I am a human life. That could do so much good for the world. Why would I content with living my own life well. Why, I ask? Because I don't sodding know do I. I don't know what to do to help. Okay. I have my ideas in the back of my head, sure, but they're not for the internet. That'd be foolish. But if that doesn't happen, and it probably won't? I'm not asking, what would I have contributed? instead I'm asking, what could I have done. What good didn't befall the world that could have, had I just. Done something. But I'm just a kid right. I don't know yet. The problem is, if I don't grasp it quite soon, will I ever? I know I'm a romantic, so I doubt all ideas I get. They're seldom doable. But that's just the spirit isn't it. The spirit they've filled us up with.
"You can't do a thing, you're on your own, and besides, you're also wrong, and probably schizo."
I don't know why, but I'm the kind of person who is inclined to believe in weird ideas and theories. And I'm the kind of person to doubt conventional ideas and theories. Simply because they are conventional. And simply because I can't help believe that some fucker, excuse my language, is fixing the world to be the way it is. Which would mean that if we believe every thing we hear, we are indoctrinated with what ever we are supposed to think and 'know'.
That's what you get for having hippies for parents. Man, I do have so much to thank them for. They have raised me well I suppose. They have made me a smart kid. They have let me learn about the world, and make mistakes, and learn from them, and even when I've crushed them to pieces. They've let me. So sure they haven't been perfect. So sure my childhood hasn't been a bloody "dream". And we might not have all that money. Unlike people tend to think. But. They created me. Me. So. I'm thankful, sod yeah.
Damn the meaning of life. Damn the people who ruin life. Damn this all. Damn not knowing what to do, and damn having to decide. I have learnt to cook Persian rice. Proper tahdig and all. might not be that mighty skilled yet but one learns with time. If this was all life was about, I'd be a happy man. Shit, I'd be the happiest man alive. So damn them to hell, for ruining this for me.
It was pink, covered in blue spots. There were some white lines in it as well. It grew from what seemed like a giant green stalk, and it was covered in tiny droplets of water. How wondrous if it were a flower, but it was my hand. I warmed it in some chillingly cold tap water and dried it with some ice. (You'd be surprised how effective ice is for that particular application.)
I found a beautiful, pinkish-red camellia on the ground. I decided to bring it home, and that is how my hand managed to get so cold. It was so long since my hands last grew limp from cold (Or was it, really? Come to think of it, I remember every second of the last time.), but the flower was quite delicate, I had to protect it. I picked up a big leaf to shield it from the heavy rain.
Why did I pick up a camellia? Because it was beautiful. Why did I pick up a leaf? To protect my camellia.
Which one has been more useful to me? The camellia has just been lying in my hand, and on my desk. The leaf has protected a wonderful miracle of nature. Yet without the camellia I would have had no use for the leaf.
Like the virgin harlot, the flower is truly exciting only until it is picked. Then it will quickly diminish, and be thrown away, to be thread on by dirty feet.
Is the leaf then like the pimp, it's existence depending on the protection of a flower? Perhaps if there were no leaves on the ground, I wouldn't have risked the flower being ruined by the rain. Or perhaps I would have taken that risk, only to see the leaves fall off, one by one.
If there were no leaves, I would have ignored the camellia. If there were no camellia, I would have ignored the leaves.
Yet now it's right next to me, it's demise quite close: I forgot to put it in water.
For the Sufi, perhaps the greatest absurdity in life is how human kind strives for some things like knowledge for example without the basic equipment to acquire them. They presume, that all they need is "two eyes, a nose and a mouth," as Nasrudin says.
In Sufism a person can't learn anything before he is in a state where he can recognize what he is learning, and what it means.
Nasrudin once went to a well to demonstrate this fact to a disciple who wanted to know "the truth". With him he brought the disciple and a pot.
The mullah filled a bucket of water and poured it into his pot. Then he filled another and poured it in. When he poured in the third, the disciple couldn't restrain himself any longer:
"Mullah, the water is coming out. There is no bottom in this pot."
Nasrudin looked angrily at him. "I'm trying to fill the pot. To see when it's full, my eyes are directed at its neck, not at its bottom. When I see the water rising to the neck, the pot is full. What does the bottom have to do with this? When I have any interest in the pot's bottom, then and only then shall I look at it."
This is the reason Sufis don't talk about deep things with people who aren't ready to grow the ability to learn something that can only be thought by a teacher to someone who is enlightened enough to say: "Teach me how to learn."
There is a Sufi saying: "Ignorance is arrogance, arrogance is ignorance. He who says, 'I need not be taught how to learn' is arrogant and ignorant." Nasrudin illustrated in this story, that these two conditions are identical, while ordinary humans perceive them as two different things.
Some thing horrible happened today. I got home from school (I just changed from Japanese to German - 6 known languages at leaving school, yay for me *cheer*) and coloured my hair. It is now five hundred nuances from black to white but most of it is really light beige. Its cool. So I had to listen to Sex Pistols now, just for the sake of it being Sex Pistols. Any way. We had couscous and salad and some cheese. Burnt the pasta and tortellini. But it was okay. We talked a bit. And here's the shit, it surfaces that she actually knows some Arabic! And I thought I was a nothing with not knowing Persian language. Now this. I don't know what to do. My whole purpose in life seems. I just don't know. On a side note I've started translating books, and I'm on my first book read this week, going for seven like last week. Have to start writing a biography soon so I can get my literary career started, but I need some one to write about. Suppose I could take Churchill or Blair or Thatcher or George VI or Ghandi or. Some one else. I am simply too lazy to get to it. Well. For the book any way. I'm writing a report on it in English class. So i'll totally post it. So you can marvel. Hah. I think I shall start with.......
Last Wednesday (yes, I am aware that last Wednesday was also yesterday) I met up with the girl I like. I say like, because I want to like her, but I'm actually not sure if I do, and that doubt in it self should tell you some thing, about how I'm feeling. We decided to meet at half past 1, after deciding to wake up two hours earlier. Suffice to say we both overslept an hour and in the end it took till 2:30 before we met. We'd been waiting for each other at the same tram stop for 20 minutes. I had been waiting a good 20 minutes more before that. Good start, and it was bloody freezing to that.
We started off by walking without a goal. Even better start wouldn't you say. We walked and walked and walked. Talked. Stopped after a couple of minutes only as she had to buy batteries. We circled back to the same place, bought some light bulbs she needed, kept walking. Through the harbour, after some kilometres we got quite fed up with walking. Went into a café. Was crowded like a boy band concert. We got a cup of tea each, she didn't want any thing to eat, but in the end she decided on a sandwich, and we went to sit outside, which was quite amusing to bypassing German tourists, as it was under 0°C. But we endured. She said she didn't find it very cold and neither did I. We sat there a while, over an hour at least, when we started to get cold, and we left. Started walking again. Walked and walked and walked. Talked. And walked. And walked. We walked for five hours in total that day. My legs hurt a little. I didn't make a move. I never got a moment. We didn't come up with any thing to do. Around seven we decided to both go home; I waited with her for her tram, and both our trams came at the same time, so we parted.
I didn't make a move. Afterwards, when I got home, I talked to her a bit. I was persuaded into lying to her, telling her it was the best time I ever had doing nothing with some one. Took 46 hours before I told my first lie this year. That's nice. Damn me for that but I suppose the time had to come. I didn't even think about it for a long while, and then it struck me, and there wasn't really much more to it. I didn't make a move. And afterwards, I started seriously thinking that maybe I don't like her that much. Maybe I did but I no longer do. Maybe I've just really wanted to. I don't know. Time will tell, I hope at least. I'm seeing her next Tuesday, when school starts. Might be a little uncomfortable. I'm not very sure she likes me any more. And not very sure how much I care.
I'm having my hair cut before the end of the break. I'm thinking quite short. A tremendous change for me. I haven't had my hair very short for many many years. I'll see how I'll colour it. Maybe brown. Maybe dark red. Maybe black. Maybe some thing very different. Like brownish-dark red.
I keep forgetting things I think about before I go to sleep. I always think to my self, "Hey, I could write this down ... nah, I'll remember it in the morning for sure," and then I don't. I'll start writing all that stuff down. Again. I used to. But it got bothering and interfered with falling asleep. I really remember thinking and realising some thing big yesterday, and just forgetting about it is horrible. I can't even remember what it was about, not entirely at least. Its such a damned loss. At least I think it is.
Horribly boring entry, aye. Well its a real entry at least. So. Well don't get used to it.