"you need to get over yourself", he said. "you are almost thirty now, of course you are not gonna be happy". "are there no happy adults?" "well.. i know hardly any". god how i love this kind of sarcasm and cynicism. it has to be the antidote for this post demoratic success society where effort doesn't even count anymore. you need to be a winner and quite visibly so, if you want any of it to be 'real'. I'm talking trophy wife. trophy wifes everywhere. shameless adulteration and a god whose name is EXCLUSIVITY. now. don't get me wrong. i am not a commie. i don't believe in that sort of shit, their illusion of 'freedom' is an even bigger hypocrisy. i mean the rich cunts devoid of empathy for the rest of the world, living a life where they truly feel the world has always been a horrible place for them, too, they are at least kind of honest about things. they don't care and they don't pretend. they pretend to be happy. thats their hypocrisy.
ok. i know where my energy is now. just gotta look a picture of wynnie. and im on fire. its there. the ice in her eyes is my energy. the ice in her attidude to me. it is the biggest fucking offense i can think of. i need to challenge this energy like i did back with stefanie. and it fucking worked. when i looked back at how much better i was than her in my recent highs. i mean it would be rediculous. i was cool COOL> fucking grand compaered to her. we are comparing. now i lmpw i should not turn this shit against. myself. but this is where my fight lies in my anger . this is wer the fuel is. cna yo feel it yet/ I can. fuck. its like having 70 coffees . jet fuel. 1000 octane. boom boom pow. so what now? antidepressants? perhaps. borderline? perhaps. but fuck it. i got my plan now. i m gonna hustle like a fucker. i will j8ust do what ihas worked for me beofre. be icecold and kill. entilted. when i shot down lydia that was a show of my past fucking cold. my kiiller. that her shit. dann kill her. wynnie style. i CAN kill. so i can survive. i want to be zen and loving and all of thqt. but the truth is. this is not where the force lies. the force lies in the desire, the LONGING for somethign specific.
oh man what a day this was. and what a short night. on as little as 3 hours sleep. and then another one. what can you do but laugh at it. i went down to the big buildigns by the docks for the job intwerview in 1984. and it went ok. i suppose. the sour taste of humilation remains. what a machine, this canary wharf. what a bloody dystopia. it was the fake smile that was telling the whole story, the fake smile on the recruiters face. how patronising she was. thinking she was smart, but she was too ugly to make it far in this sexist corporate world. she should have been a vet instead i suppose. anyways, it is not like she took it out on anyone. not yet. this was her sales mission. but she had the eyes and the gestures of an ice cold killer. the whole thing was a bit auschwitz. in its attempt to hide what was really going on: it was a bloody sweatshop. you will not stop working there. you are not allowed to put the phone down, not allowed to stop writing emails. the job is very very repetitive and micromanaged and i know already that it is something i will most likely hate. i speak in future tense like i already have the job. still a good feeling remains and i dont konw what to call it for i dont know what it really is. all this lack of sleep has given me a tiredness that overrides everything else. i think what it really is is the feeling of hope. the vision of light. i can do this. there are challenges. i am afraid to speak in front of groups of strangers. but i can do it. i will learn. i will be free. and i can succeed. so i will.
So I am putting my thoughts onto the leave and let them be taken away by the gentle stream of clear water, slowly running over the stony bed of the small river. It is everything I put on there. All the negativity, in all its forms and shapes, small and large. And what is left. Is peace and presence and calamity of mind. So far the theory. And in reality? In reality some things are troubling us. And they are serious. You know they are not just a little gram of material on a leave. They are like a huge stone place onto a feeble little leave and it doesn't float, it bloody drowns and stays put and blocks the path for the other leaves. Well. That is the way it seems. But really it is not like that at all. We are just putting the thoughts on there, not the situations , the thoughts ABOUT these situation. and they are far wrose. its the fear of the fear that kills people. it will never be as bad. coehlo wrote about that. the monsters that you are so afraid of you will never encounter if you don't put them there yourself. the only place they exist in is the mind. and thats nothing. they easily fit on to the leave, we can make them small or big. we don't have to feed them. we can just ignore them and they will die in their own time. true story.
So here we go. The light is dim, but it is shining a bit stronger today. Well what are we going to do now? I have been inspired. It takes someone inspired sometimes to inspire someone else. The talk was about architecture. The big picture. No decorations But large big beautiful radical buildings. The real avant grade. Modernism. A hundred years ahead of time. visionary. now where does that leave me? I have some really stupid small scale fucking shit to deal with... emails. bills. payment difficulties. this sort of crap. nothing exciting. i could try and get a loan. should i? I would get me out of trouble in the short term. but what about the long term? in the long term what i need is more income, less expenses, more happiness hormones. a new vision. that i would have to work out. by myself. from this place of darkness. this would take a huge bunch of faith. a gamble. to say i trust. if i do this, it will work. it will pay off. it will get better. there is hope, light at the end of the tunnel. it is worth taking a shot. so rather then analysis i need outwards oriented action. no questioning, no self doubt. i need straight forward, couragoues, liberating honetsty and plain old work to get me out of this hole. i need to double my efforts. till i collapse as the song goes. i kind of have conquered FOMO. lets see if i can conquer doubt.
Dont go chasing waterfalls, please stick to the rivers and waters you're used to. So they tell me on the radio. Well I have been down and up the waterfalls and I can tell you one thing: The only second you can stop thinking about anything they say is they second you are in free fall. And then when you enter the crystal clear, coldish water under the surface, that shit is called feeling alive. And do you see the difference? The level of abstraction is the difference. One is real and beautiful. And the otherone? Is theoretical, a product of the mind, highly abstract, unable to be grasped. Emotions vs. thoughts. The real deal is raw, sushi so to speak. And the song goes on and on and I keep thinking keep wondering how to go on what next to write to say to do which words to use and are there enough adjectives and will I ever make it and can I and no I don't believe I have a chance and can you blame me and people tell me they believe in me and it doesn't help it just serves as a contrast fluid to highlight just how little i believe in my self. i t is true when it comes out flowing like that and we get OUT of the way the we allow the magic to happen. i mean fuck half of the time or more often we motherfucking suffocate it. Like a stone tied around our ankles as we are thrown off the waterfall. Fuck we shouldn't need a stone, we have our body weights to drag us down and if that is not enough a million tons of sorrows weighing on our souls.
Do I think there is something wrong with me? Are you kidding? Of course i motherfucking think so. Cant you see it? This neverending sadness. Of course you cant. Like i don't let you. But i have. And you know better. And that is exactly why you tell me I am alright, I am ok, I will be fine and you believe in me. Really it is the strain of my own worries that scares you. You can see just how much trouble I am in. Really I am fucking close to collapsing. Not capable of love. More like in need of serious Antidepressants. the thing is. i just don't feel like myself. and maybe that is why i should just stop drinking and start taking drugs instead of risks and who cares just what i am taking. the thing is that people don't seem to get over the drugs. but does that mean that they wwork really well ? i suppose. maybe i do need them. you know. what would a psychiatrist say? what do they even fucking know. counselling is nice and stuff. but right now. right motherfucking now. i just want a break from this BS. this weakling i have become. devoid of passion. unwilling to FIGHT for anything or anyone. just entitled. make the symptoms stop. please.
It is quite a journey. This life. My life has had ups and downs and been plagued by the same old fears and demons along the way. But I managed to dance with them once in a while. What matters most is how well you walk trough the fire? You see, the fire doesn't make it hell. The fire gives warmth, light in the dark and cooks delicious food. It melts iron into the shapes that are useful to the endeavours of our mind and soul. Sure it also burns, and it can destroy a whole city. It can be used as a weapon. It can kill the innocent in an absurdly tragic accident. There is always someone innocent. Perhaps we all are. So don't fear the fire. Just know that it is there and it is what it si and at the end of the day it will always BE. We will not. And one day it will take the fire to clear us off the face of this earth and turn us to ashes and to take us back to the start of a new cycle of life, that we fuel with the very atoms we were made from the last time around. The is a fine line between poetry and new age crap.
Well shit so here I fucking am. Sitting on my bed like a monk , coffee in a cup macbook in my hands. So yeah fuckers I am so Generation Y, it is not even funny. And trapped in this madness of pseudo individualism i watch my sense of self disintegrate. Who the fuck am I? Who are we? There seems to be a we, its the internet feel babe. But fuck arrent we all just losing ourselves in the big fucking thing they call "the cloud" so fittingly. There is porn, there is newspapers, there is Facebook, there are downloads and youtube and amazon and eBay and paypal and so on and so forth. and there are emails and shit. and the modern city life? its just housing a virtual reality. no fucking surprise this shit is dull and deadly. i mean where the fuck is the sun on the skin. where is the taste of the coffee bean collected in hardship from a tropical paradise or hell thousands of miles away. where are the REAL stories. no, they are hiding behind a layer of what we want to be seen in a world with billions of eyes watching us just a click away. the real life, it takes real balls and we better not forget about that.
We all judge. But I judge harder. Really fucking hard. Myself. You. Them. Us. Her, Him, It, God himself. The world, the universe, society, the system, your country, your background, my background, my level of education, your degree, your skin colour and your accent and mine of course. My skills, my language skills, my soft skills my hard skills. Fuck it is tiresome. But it is not exactly hard work. Or it is not like I work hard for it. No, I didnt have to pass the bar. Didnt have to study for, didnt have to pass any tests. No, i am entitled to it by birth I think to myself. And whilst thinking that thought I start to realize that I have become that which I reject the most, entiltles narcissitic cunts. Hell. I am the biggest one of the lot. And isnt that ironic. Cause now I judge myself. What an insane vicious cycle, what a lunatic. but you see judging myself doesnt help. in fact, it fuels the whole cycle. so as it is wiht many things, i have the power to cut off the fuel.. just forgive myself. then you have no reason not to forgive them. done.
Oh man. What do you do with an idiot boss like that? Someone who is retarded? Like my friend Gilad says "Be smart, not right". Well i guess that could work. For some. I on the other hand.... I am not so sure about that. At all. No. babe. If there is no respect, then how in motherfucking hell can i work for this company? This woman opens up with a line like "I have informed the guest that all of our phone calls are recorded...." just to continue the same sentence with "I need you to be very honest". Lol. That doesn't make sense. If they were recorded, she would exactly not need me to be honest. So she opens up by lying, and then demands honesty from me? And then you wonder why I don't trust her? What the fuck do I make out of this? That is such an insult to my intelligence. I mean. Should I just tell her to go to hell? She ends with "Thank you so much for your understanding and collaboration". Can you hear the fakeness in that line? Its amusing. Its disgusting.; Its certainly bad taste. But hell like B. said: Bad taste makes a lot more millionaires than good taste.
Alright so I was asked to stay in the light for the coming week. Should be easy peasy. I got holidays coming up in just three days from now. No problems. The thing is.... I am infatuated with the dark. I kind of know it is a seductive and self destructive habit to have. But there is something about it the dark. The promise of finding some gold in there. It is addictive. it is exciting. It is forbidden. And it is gratifying on a very low level. It is mining. You get deeper and deeper down some dark shafts. And before you know it you are miles underground in depths of your soul, lured in by the false promise of finding deliverance. But it is not the voice of angels that drags you down there on that path. It's the cries of a hurt past. Of painful experiences, a lust for revenge and an entitlement to a self righteous kind of justice. No, you tell yourself, no this is just harmless. I am just trying to become a better person by learning from my mistakes. I am just self-aware, yes courageous indeed, am I not? But you know better. You know the truth. The truth is that you are obsessed and you much prefer the never ending tunnels of "analysis" to action. It is a way of subconsciously rebelling against a world that doesn't live up to your sense of entitlement by escaping into fantasies of grandiosity and revenge. It is the ultimate cowardice. Cause the only real courage there is is to live in the bright light. Real. Imperfect. And with an unconditional joy.
So it is true what they say. We have to love ourselves in order to love other people. I mean. It was so clear today, perhaps clearer than ever. I must be me. No shame. Guilt where appropriate. But never ever any shame. Just vulnerability. I must be me, I have no other choice. And it is a lot about what we should NOT do. What we should not do is impression management. This is what keeps us from owning our story, from becoming ourselves. What we should do is follow our heart. Follow our genuine curiosities. Maybe thats what they mean. What are you truly curious about? Thats the way forward. If it its girls or drugs or architecture or business or politics or landscapes, the environments, the sea.... it doesn't matter. that is our vision that we were given, we have to follow it. and about that. here is the main important thought, why oh why did it elude me. we follow our curiosities, we get taken places. we try and control the shit out of everything? we fuck shit up. we get vulnerable to shame, not love. we need to open our hearts and how can we like that? We want to move to london cause we love the language? we should. the order ill reveal itself. Jobs: " the dots will connect". we want to move to london to impress other people? we shouldn't. it will make us empty. sometimes though to impress other people is our curiosity and the narcissist makes our heart beat faster. so we should follow. and trust that it works out. take the plunge, go ALL IN. both feet. jump into the cold water. embrace the experience. and like that we will learn, perhaps the hard way but sometimes thats the only way.
Well my old friend Anne was certainly right. Good writing comes from the gut. What a nice metaphor, she knows what she is talking about. And this is what this exercise is for. I suppose if i went back and edited it and got all the fillers removed it would be really good stuff indeed. And how funny life is, with its ways. It is almost like they say "God reveals himself in mysterious ways". So he does. Look at the people who help me heal from my narcissism. Women. And which ones. Well for once the one who is the biggest narcissist out of the whole lot. Wynnie. She has shown me, how I attract these sort of people in my life. How I crave nothing more than their approval. How I am a huge narcissist myself. And how I will be prone to abuse as long as i need their approval and I don't know how to draw boundaries. What does that even mean? I will tell you: it means that I will be prone to abuse as long as I don't love myself. As long as I try to bridge the "Grandiosity Gap". As long as I feel like I am not enough, like I have to be some imagined ideal self that is not me. As long as I fill my heart with this kind of shame I will try and fill the whole this creates in my soul with cheap narcissistic supply aka. external validation aka. approval.
So shit, the writing comes out ok tonight old boy. tyere is something i noticed about it. in my own and in other peoples writing. it needs to be done fast. quick. like that it stays pure and fluid. and the more one tries to decorate it wiht bullshit, the stiffer and less raw it becomes. it is like overcooking a piece of nice raw steak., ( rump preferably). one should never fucking overcook it. so it is true what bukowski said 'dont tryl.,===. let it be real and raw and fluid. and then it is good. it is like fire you can watch it move , it dance through the night and fill the room with heat and passion. so much fun to look at the humand spirit and its creatioon in the raw pure form. and look how much hatred their is in this world an dhow i was not equipped iwht the mea\ns to counter it. how much of a fuck i give about petty little stupid fucking people. when i should be a machiavelli. so the two surfschools are hating one another and one is trying to punish me for it and the other one is fiercly l;oyal tome for it. so well why make it work against me? where would the fucking point of that be now? i should play them out aginst one another. man. i have some serious business questions to answer. like how the fuck am i gonna pay my bills. how the fuck am i gonna tell them ic ant? hwo the fuck am i gonna get out of this shit? is it even worth it? i should sit the fuck down. i should think. and strategise. and make a plan, like napoleon.