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Pienāca brīdis, kad es sapratu, ka samērā viegli varu iztēloties dzīvojam savu dzīvi kā no heroīna atkarīgs narkomāns (ne ilgi, protams, jāmirst taču kaut kad ir) un man tas nelikās nedz sliktāk, nedz nožēlojamāk par to, kā dzīvoju pašlaik. Kādēļ? Jo nu, hei, kas ir labāk, baudījums ar elli starplaikos, vai konstants nekas?

Kaut kas ir jāmaina, par to esmu drošs, taču, kur lai pieķeras, ej nu sazin. Pēdējās nedēļas atkal ik pa laikam (brīžos, kad cenšos aizmigt un nenotrulinos, spēlējot tās pašas videospēles, kuras esmu izgājis nu jau vairāk par 5 reizēm katru) paviesojos pagātnē, saprotu, ka man tur īsti nepatīk, atgriežos tagadnē, saprotu, ka arī īsti nepatīk.

Tik ļoti vienkārši nonarkoties līdz nāvei.

īsumā: man ir samērā skumji.

i'd like it to stop.

Something's definitely not right. I've become more empathetic lately.
Not that I was always numbed out or rather indifferent, a long time ago I wasn't, but now it's coming back and I hate it. Want it damn gone.

There is a possibility of an onset of another depressive episode, due to the ways I've felt in the last couple of days. Not that I'd be sad/miserable all the time or anything, but the intensity of it when it hits me, and the thoughts accompanying it make it rather tough.

I am seriously afraid of this.

Hadn't written a thing here in a long while.

So, mentioning:

Watched Pandorum recently. Loved it, reccomend it.
Watched Cube before that. Fucking amazing.
Aliens is better than the third part and I'm sick of the 4th, cause I've watched it too many times.

Somehow, I get enough luck to mostly end up liking the movies I watch.


Oh, and, although pretty much everyone knows that, I have two teeth extracted, 1-1 and today I had 1-5 extracted, too.

The thing is, I had a habit of poking my tongue in the hole of 1-5, and now that it's gone, I have nowhere to really put my tongue when I'm angry. I liked that hole.

Also, my grandma seriously thinks I'm non-human and soulless, because of my ''skewed'' moral values and overall perception of life. She honestly thinks that I have drastically changed in the years, not that I just had hid a shitload of things and pretended to care about the things I didn't, really.
My conclusion is, either I'm really differing from most of the people I see (not the ones I hang out with, similars attract) on a fundamental level, or most of them are doing what I stopped. I think it's a part of both with more push on the latter.


I still think spirituality is bullshit and crave for the day I see at least anyone argumenting something for it, and not just talk about vibrations, energies, chakras and all that shit. I want fucking evidence. I am a skeptic.

Oh, also, I remembered how back in school, we had that ass-hat lecture about why we shouldn't do drugs. One of the arguments was that drugs change personality (what doesn't?) and drug-users tend to become more cynical.
Well, what's the fucking problem with that? I mean, I am a cynic, I know those overall sun-is-shining-and-it-is-a-miracle-that-i-live people don't get the attitude, but I bet my ass that anyone who has gone through at least some of the shit life gives you can appreciate cynicism. Or, in the words of Nathan, HORSE the Band vocalist:

Life is a fucking toilet.

And damn, even if most people don't like cynics, cynics like cynics. Reason why I still like Carlin, that dead fucker.

I also thought I would make each word in this sentence different.

How about letters?

#

My eyes drown in the sorrowful sleep.
Patterns inescapable devour my entity.
Needlessly, poke at my gums and see if you can get in.
Beneath nothing worth of a wasteful time spent.
Unless you're into decaying matter of organic unimportance.

Rukši.

Pārējie guļ. Es īsti nevēlos, gan, pagaidām. Tupu, Birma tepat blakus, ik pa laikam paspaidu.

Kad acis iztek, vajag saliet atpakaļ un sasaldēt.

Just a note.

Did meth yesterday, mild dose. Me gusta. Might get some for the gig.

Also, those that do not yet know, the next Synesthesia (6th) is on 1st of October, needless to say, I will be there.

Kādēļ es atļāvos.

Sveicināti. Mani dēvē par Antonu Kuģīti un man šķita, ka daudziem no jums interesē, kādēļ es nesen biju kā katalizators palielas ažiotāžas izraisīšanā. Protams, saprotu, ka cilvēkiem, kuri bija tuvās attiecībās ar aizgājušajiem, šis notikums bija traģēdija, bet, cik daudzi no tiem, kas pēdējā laikā ir centušies mani sameklēt, tiešām personīgi pazina tos mirušos?

Lieta ir tāda, ka ik dienu mirst aptuveni 150 tūkstoši cilvēku, nemaz neskaitot pārējo sugu dzīvniekus. Vidusmēra iedzīvotāji par šiem atgadījumiem liekas zinis tikai tad, ja skatās attiecīgus raidījumus (vēlētos piebilst, ka no TV esmu izšķīries nu jau aptuveni trīs gadus, varbūt vairāk) un, pat tad, bieži vien tikai tad, ja tā ir bijusi īpaši brutāla slepkavība, ir nomirusi kāda slavenība vai miruši vairāki cilvēki vienlaikus.

Atšķirībā no citiem, es neņemu vērā katru aizgājušo, jo tad man nāktos to darīt katru dienu, un, visdrīzāk, mani ietekmētu tikai tuvu vai ļoti manis iecienītu cilvēku nāve, bet, pat tad, mazāk, nekā lielāko daļu cilvēku, ko esmu sapratis. Iemesls tam ir pavisam vienkāršs. Nāve ir dabisks un pat nepieciešams process eksistencei, un tā ir lieta, kas, manuprāt, ir jāpieņem un ar to jāsadzīvo. Bēres manā skatījumā nav nekas vairāk kā rituāls, kurā tie, kas piedalās, žēlo sevi un cenšas aprimt ar domu, ka aizgājušais vairs neeksistē un vienīgais, kas ir palicis pāri, ir objekts – mirstīgās atliekas.

Par spīti tam, ka mani vecāki un skolasbiedri, vismaz vairākums, ir allaž bijuši sporta, un īpaši hokeja cienītāji, man sports ir diezgan mazsvarīgs, īpaši hokejs. Es negūstu baudu vai izpriecu, skatoties kā laukumā, kurā ir 11 (ieskaitot tiesnesi) cilvēki, no kuriem 2 apsargā noteiktus teritorijas lauciņus un pārējie 8 dzenājas pēc saplacināta, cilindriska objekta, cenšoties panākt to, ka tas nonāk noteiktā teritorijas daļā. Es no tā neko negūstu un nekad neesmu guvis. Manuprāt, pētniecība un zinātne ir daudz lielākas vērtības, nekā sports jebkad būs. Ko pēdējo 500 gadu laikā sports ir izdarījis cilvēces labā globālā līmenī (vienīgais vērtīgais, kas man nāk prātā, ir ekonomikas stimulācija) un salīdziniet to, ko pēdējo 500 gadu laikā ir paveikusi pētniecība un zinātne. Šeit nav runa tikai par datoru, no kura tu šo lasi, taču tas ir labs piemērs.

Protams, cits iemesls ir tāds, ka man apnīk šī nebeidzamā čīkstēšana ik reizi, kad nomirst kāda slavenība. Jūs izturaties tā, it kā pēc kāda laika perioda šī persona netiktu aizvietota un jūs būsiet pavisam aizmirsuši par aizgājēju. Jūsu čīkstēšana neko nepanāk. Tā neatgriezīs mirušo pie dzīves un savu līdzjūtību jūs varat paust piedaloties aizvadīšanas pasākumos vai izsakot to aizgājēja ģimenei, lai gan es šaubos, ka tā īpaši kaut ko darīs, lai mazinātu to cilvēku sēras. Man ir pieriebies, ka ik reizi, kad nomirst kāds, kurš Latvijā ir kaut cik pazīstams, jūs piesārņojat visur, kur iespējams, ar savu viltus līdzjūtību. Par tiem, kas rakstīja par sakritībām un tiem, kas ievietoja rakstus, lai liktos labāki un būtu pieņemamāki citiem, kā arī ļoti vienkārši gūtu popularitāti, es vispār paklusēšu, jo, ja, jūsuprāt, tādu cilvēku vārdi attiecīgajos gadījumos jāņem vērā, es jūs aicinu pārtraukt šo lasīt un paskriet zem tuvākā buldozera. Protams, jūs varat arī attīstīties, bet daudziem, šķiet, ir pārliecība, ka tie ir attīstības kalngals un, ja atrodas kāds, kurš viņiem nepiekrīt, tad tas ir piemērojams šausmīgākajiem izdzimteņiem uz pasaules.

Man, tomēr, rodas jautājums. Ar ko tie cilvēki, kuri izteicās par mani, maigi sakot, ne visai rožaini un īpaši tie, kuri man draudēja (un arī visā nopietnībā gribēja) nodarīt reālu fizisku kaitējumu, ir labāki par mani, ja ne sliktāki? 2 teikumi, un jūs tapāt par reptīļveidīgiem zvēriem, gataviem saplosīt to, kas jūs aizskāris. Ja jūs spēj aizskart tas, ko pateica kāds, kuru jūs nekad neesat pazinuši, satikuši un lielākajai daļai šāda iespēja nekad arī netiks dota, tad man jājautā, vai tā nav emocionālas vājības pazīme?

Būtībā, mani primārie mērķi bija ieriebt tiem nemitīgajiem čīkstētājiem, kā arī izteikt savu viedokli, jo, kaut neesmu vienīgais, kurš atļāvās teikt, ka tam ir vienalga, esmu pilnīgi drošs, ka bija daudzi, kuri domāja līdzīgi, bet baidījās atklāties. Man nav absolūti neviena iemesla neteikt, ko es domāju, lai cik tas kādu arī neaizskartu, un neieklausīties tajos, kuri cenšas mani aizvērt. Tikai tādēļ, ka tu uzskati, ka ir lietas, kuras ir svētas un, par kurām nevar runāt vai nevar runāt sliktu, nenozīmē, ka tā patiešām ir. Man nav nekā slikta. Un man ir jājautā, gan, sakarā ar manis teikto. Kopš kura laika masturbācija ir kas peļams? Zoofīlija, protams, šķist aizkaroša daudziem, bet arī tas man neliekas nekas tik traks, vismaz, ne tik ļoti, lai uz to reaģētu šādi.

Jāmin arī, ka, nerēķinājos ar tādu reakciju, kāda bija, vēl jo vairāk ar to, ka būs cilvēki, kuri tiešām ir tik muļķīgi, ka pieļāva domu, ka, ja mani piekaus, tas mani atturēs no tā, ko es domāšu vai pat no tā, ka es to izteikšu. Bija lietas, kuras es saņēmu, ar tām nemaz nerēķinoties, no šīs pieredzes. Protams, bīstamības izjūta, kas, manuprāt, ir svarīga dzīves sastāvdaļa, bija, bet es neteiktu, ka tā būtu gluži negatīva. Es pierādīju, kārtējo reizi, to, cik lieli liekuļi un zvēri cilvēki ir. Es sapratu, kuriem no man pazīstamajiem cilvēkiem es varu patiešām uzticēties un kuri mani pieņems par to, kāds es esmu (lai gan būs daudz vairāk tādu, kas atstums, bet tie tikai pierāda, ka tie nav manas uzmanības vērti). Pierādījās arī tas, cik ļoti cilvēki ir savu emociju varā, nevis otrādi. Jūsu dusmas bija viegli izraisīt, un, ja jūsos ir tik viegli izraisīt tik spēcīgas emocionālas reakcijas, tas tikai pierāda, ka ar cilvēkiem, kuri nesaprot notiekošo, ir ļoti viegli manipulēt, ja prot. Es esmu tikai iesācējs savās gaitās, taču jau esmu guvis samērā nozīmīgas mācības.

Vēl obligāti jāmin, ka gan burti, gan vārdi, pēc būtības nav nekas vairāk kā simboli, kuri tiek pielietoti noteiktu domu apzīmēšanai. Nereti nepietiek ar vienu vārdu, talkā nāk teikums. Taču tas tomēr nav nekas vairāk kā simbolu kopums. Jūs reāli ļaujiet simboliem valdīt pār savām emocijām, pie tam, manuprāt, pat pārāk lielā mērā. Ja kāds no jums joprojām netic, ka cilvēki ir ļoti viegli ietekmējami ar simboliem, sarūpējiet sev uz kreisās rokas zempleca daļas uzšuvi, kura bija samērā populāra nacistiskās Vācijas laikos, – sarkanu uzšuvi ar baltu apli un svastiku tās vidū - un aizejiet ar to uz kādu no Holokausta upuru piemiņas pasākumiem vai uzvaras svētkiem, vai pat pie kādas no tik ļoti jaukajām omītēm, un paskatieties uz to, kā reaģēs klātesošie. Jā jūs ļaujat simboliem valdīt pār sevi, jūs ļaujat tiem, kas prot pielietot simbolus, arī valdīt pār sevi. Varbūt pēdējais laiks kļūt autonomiem?

Ā, kas attiecas uz tiem, kas pilnā rīklē (vai, precīzāk, ar ieslēgtu Caps Lock) bļāva, ka tā ir personas goda un cieņas aizskaršana, un pēcāk sniedza tieši to pašu man, jūs esat pamatīgi liekuļi, un jums derētu to saprast. Uz beigām es minēšu arī tādu faktu, ar kuru, šķiet, daudzi nav pazīstami, ka korelācija (varbūtiska sakarība starp notikumiem) neimplicē cēloņsakarību. Sniegšu piemēru. Ir tāds fiktīvs personāžs kā Beatrice the chicken. Tikai tādēļ, ka es būtu pateicis vienā ierakstā, ka vistas ir tizlas, un nākamajā, ka Beatrise arī, nenozīmē, ka es būtu obligāti runājis par vistu Beatrisi. Es gan nezinu, kādēļ daudziem ir grūti to saprast, varbūt jūs pārāk ilgi pieķeraties vienai un tai pašai domai, par spīti tam, ka tā, kā maza, nolaupīta meitene, visiem spēkiem cenšas izlauzties no jūsu tvēriena. Nobeigt es vēlētos ar jautājumu, uz kuru man būtu ļoti interesanti dzirdēt atbildi.

No kurienes jūs izsecinājāt, ka es biju runājis tieši par Kārli Skrastiņu, hokejistu, kurš bija miris lidmašīnas avārijā?

Draugiem.lv vien ir 15 lapas, kuras izsniedz, meklējot vārdu Skrastiņš, nemaz nerunājot par to, ka šis vārds varēja būt iesauka vienam no maniem draugiem vai paziņām, vai pat fiktīva tēla vārds. Pārāk šauri domājat, mīļie mani. Pēdējais laiks saredzēt savas nepilnības un ķerties pie rīkiem, kas palīdzētu tās mazināt.

Step through.

Before you begin, understand that there is absolutely no way back to what was. As you take another step, your previous ones are just footprints, faint evidence of you being there and nothing more than that. You cannot return by them, because that would mean stepping into all that you have prior to this, and, luckily, prints cannot pride themselves on longevity.

Since you’ve come so far, I have to warn you, you have to go much, much farther. Beyond anywhere I, or anyone for that matter, could ever take you. And you will do it alone. There will be noone to ever really support you on your journey and you will be accused of being a madman, a being that stepped off the ”right” road. That is okay, really, because, before any road was ever to appear, there was someone to walk it through, making the way. An explorer walks somewhere no one has ever walked, making space for the less daring ones. In a while, it shifts into a trail, eventually, a road. I believe you understand this, if you don’t, stop reading and try it!

So, where on, then? No! I am not going to lead you, you are. You will go the way no one has ever walked and not look back. Ever. Cast away everything that keeps you back, you will have much more to obtain, but free space is needed. Nothing must own you, so that you can own what you find on the journey.

The clouding sense of smoke in your nose, the bitter rabbit of coffee running down your throat-hole, they were all here, giving you a warning sense that you have to do something. Pay more attention! Any idea how many things are happening right this instant? Thought so. Liberation hurts at first, but the devils were never ”out there”, no.

Exactly.

Wonder will only help a little, but let out the monster to play. Don’t be petrified by it, it can do no more harm than you’ve already done. And all this right when you thought that an entity is nothing more than just a sum of its parts. Wrong. There is more than meets. Infinitely.

As you take your second step, you are more assured, you know that nothing has happened yet, however, you may find yourself trying to quit this deviousness, don’t. Just as dumb it is to turn back, in most cases, when you’ve walked two-thirds of a path to your haven, as dumb it is ever turning back from this journey, but who am I to claim that, after all, right now, you’re only briefly under my guidance. When we’re done with the setup, well, you already know.

Ever find, when rushing somewhere and then becoming static, that movement is still constant? That you keep moving, but aren’t sure where? Just like the flow of a river may take you to a waterfall, not going anywhere can take you to crash of much greater magnitude than that. Sometimes, that is the greatest outcome, especially if it makes you rip your senses open, sometimes it may take you on an unwelcome visit to someone you’re scared of seeing. Yet.

I believe you would like to know who or what has been keeping you back all this time, scared you of the venture onwards, stopped you from plucking that beautiful flower you saw in a garden you believed belonged to someone, talked you out of landing your skin on a certain surface or even setting everything on fire. Look in the mirror. Exactly that has kept you away all along. Don’t beat yourself about it, it’s a widespread case and we might just give you a prescription against it. Just fill out this form, take it down to the bureau of the System, make Authorities approve of it and it can be all taken care of. But who are these Authorities anyway? Yes.

You have only been fooled and taken astray, because that is what felt safe, others were doing it, after all, so why wouldn’t you? I’ll tell you why. Maybe later. Okay, okay, you got it. Because whoever said life is supposed to be or feel safe ought to take its head out of its ass and look around. World was never a safe place, nor it is supposed to be. Without a little bit of danger, what excitement can you possibly get from the callous ongoing wind of existence blowing through the cracks of your entity?

Really thought you are your body? Skin that you’ve bruised so many times and abused for so long, liver that you’ve enslaved and made detoxify the things you ingest, heart that you’ve made run for as long as it takes, lungs that you’ve subjected to the rape of smoke and fresh air, eyes you’ve exposed to your wretched tears, lips that you’ve landed on the crunch of bread in the morning. You think it wouldn’t be ”you” anymore if any of them left? Try all of them. Don’t get confused, I’m not talking about a soul or any horseshit ”spiritual” essence here, I’m just saying that, although you consist of them, it doesn’t mean that it is all that there is. Try harder!

Every single day (that is what our fractions of time – all brushed up and ordered, by someone else, are called) same thing, over, and over, and over again, until the carousel just makes you want to throw up all over the sky and wash yourself in wastes of existence. Hop off! Ride on one foot, smash your head against the passers-by, just do something you haven’t!

Take my hand! My dry skin, that of an old man, may make you feel slightly uncomfortable, but inside, you know that it is one you can trust. When your senses fail you, there still might be salvation. Let me be yours. It will hurt, it will burn, tear you down and break into pieces, disgrace your corpse and leave it to rot, but that is good. Why? Because rot and ash leaves good ground where flowers can blossom and tees can root in. The way to eternity is just around the corner, my dear. Oh, you never knew there was one? That’s okay, let uncle Nobody show you the way. You will be abandoned by everybody, but you will always have Nobody around. Always.

Foreverness may taste like a misplaced steak in the vegetarian salad you ordered, but without devouring something else, especially alive, you will have no substance to strengthen you. I know that eventually you will slay me, in order to absorb and assimilate with self, and that is exactly what I want you to do. One cannot go on for long without eating up being. And eating up someone is far better than eating up their wastes. That is exactly the reason why reading this isn’t enough, one has to go through with it all the way, hit the brick wall of a dead end and tear it down, even if just to see there is nothing behind it.

However, that is already an action done, demanding more to be. You can’t muster up the guts to just leave nothing be, I know, you need to fill it up. Same reason why you have been looking for someone to accompany all along. Then you don’t feel that empty, but it still persists. Determination, my friend, more of it!

So the shackles are off, steps are made and you might even notice someone stepping in the same traps you have, right behind you. You understood correctly, if you thought that what you need to do is keep going, running until exhaustion kicks in and you find vast voids, which were always there with you. In fact, you are those voids, and there is absolutely no need to change that. No necessity to fill them up. Leave them alone! They were meant to be, more than you and me.

Just

My hand keeps reaching for the gun,
"Do you ever listen to the Sun?"
Yes and no, sometimes it's so.

Mist slides between my fingers.
Cold encases, body filled with stingers.
Give up and just let it go!

Randum quotes, DA-FUCK-YOU!

/Postal2/


''Did someone slaughter a goat in here? No seriously, I wanna know.''
''Crap, looks like everyone in town had the same idea.''
''Hey Chico, I need an alternator for an 87´Dafuckyou''
''Stupid library book, bitch can´t even read.''
''Woah, the walls are melting. Groovy!''


/Jacob's Ladder/

''Eckhart saw Hell too. He said: The only thing that burns in Hell is the part of you that won't let go of life, your memories, your attachments. They burn them all away. But they're not punishing you, he said. They're freeing your soul. So, if you're frightened of dying and... and you're holding on, you'll see devils tearing your life away. But if you've made your peace, then the devils are really angels, freeing you from the earth.''

/Stay/

''Sam Foster I've read your file.
Henry Letham: Well can I read your file?
Sam Foster: Tell me why you're here.
Henry Letham: I thought you read the file.''

''Do you know the Tristan Rêveur quote about bad art? It's "bad art is more tragically beautiful than good art 'cause it documents human failure.''

/Fight Club/

''This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.''

''Only after disaster can we be resurrected.''


''It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.''

''I felt like destroying something beautiful.''

''Tyler sold his soap to department stores at $20 a bar. Lord knows what they charged. It was beautiful. We were selling rich women their own fat asses back to them.''

''The things you own end up owning you.''

''Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.''



Ok, i'm tired of looking for more, will add some more later.

Maybe

''Just let go!''

Whirls and all that.
''I don't smoke.''

A nice day all in all, what to add. Painting's still not dried, cannot go on with it. Going through.

''And why do you . . ?''
- ''Just because.''

And what the fuck do you know? I know nothing besides that I know little. And I'm not Stanley.

All my thoughtbarfs pretty much end up in notebooks, whoever's interested can maybe get a chance to read.

sbc

Huiņa wasn't bad. Had fun, want moar.

Nothing really much to add besides that i've enjoyed  things lately. Propably going to the BRK @ DD tomorrows, moar reports later.

a.

People always tell you to look at the bright side of things. I do. I acknowledge that if things go too bad, there is always a way out. After all, there are always drugs and one can leave the roller coaster any moment, too.

Maybe not so bright of a thought after all.

How

My drugged brain is losing lucidity, but with that, I lose myself, which is nice. How did I get here, or, more precisely, why didn't I quit last year? It was such a tempting option it still creeps in on me. How can I possibly trust people again? After being failed by so many, so many times, how do I continue?

walls within voids.

Betrayal. Nothing else feels quite like it, does it?
______________________________


On a side note, I've got tons of music and some movies, thankfully, something to keep myself occupied with.

I feel that soon it'll be the time to break apart, to recollect myself again. Or not.

Shaking.
''I choke on desperate breath.''

Grasping for air is indeed not always the best course of action. Especially if you're underwater. Or . . .

Skin and bones, and a little bit of flesh inbetween. Inseminator-incubator. Fuck nature! That disingenious bitch.

Aren't we all just really biding our time?
How much longer? Well, to be honest, I think my watch is way off. WAY off.

Twitching. Whirling. Slaughter all the fucking horses on the damn carousels and slit the childrens throats. They're better off that way.

Just remain calm and keep going! And rip everyone who stands in your way to pieces. Even if it means - yourself. How come my time is never at hand? It eludes me. Metatron never speaks to me. Either that or I'm just deaf. But how does one perceive the voice of something hidden inward of itself? Maybe it was just never there. Maybe there just is no IT. Within and without. Shriek.

A common misconception about atheism.

If I had to name one of the most common misconceptions about atheism, then the belief that atheism is a religion is the first thing that comes to mind.

First, let's establish what does religion mean. (Taken from Wikipedia)

Religion is a collection of cultural systems, belief systems, and worldviews that establishes symbols that relate humanity to spirituality and moral values. Many religions have narratives, symbols, traditions and sacred histories that are intended to give meaning to life or to explain the origin of life or the universe. They tend to derive morality, ethics, religious laws or a preferred lifestyle from their ideas about the cosmos and human nature.

And now, atheism.

Atheism is, in a broad sense, the rejection of belief in the existence of deities. In a narrower sense, atheism is specifically the position that there are no deities. Most inclusively, atheism is simply the absence of belief that any deities exist.

So, in essence, atheism is the lack of belief in deities and all religious scriptures are viewed as mythology by someone who is an atheist. Atheism, however, does not have any scriptures that instruct people on morality, ethics, laws or preferred lifestyle, in fact, people are left to find those things by themselves. Atheism also has no solid culture and the only common thing among atheists is usually the rejection of religion and lack of belief in deities.

If that isn't convincing to you, let's consider an analogy here.

An orange is a fruit. An oak is not an orange, however, it is also not a fruit. Seems pretty easy to derive that, however, if we replace orange with christianity, fruit with religion, oak with atheism, it seems that a lot of people would have a problem coming to the same conclusion.

That voice that laughs at your misery.

That little voice in me is laughing as my transfiguration into a monster progresses. With each step I come closer to the seemingly inevitable, a chuckle and a grin are forcing themselves upon me. Containing such an entiry takes effort that is grand, for if it ever breaks loose, then I'll be never again.

Ever wonder why I'm such a bitter, sad piece of shit at times, well, then, come on in!

Let me just start by saying that if your child starts raising himself with the help of the internet, that's sort of an indicator that maybe you never really were a good parent in the first place.

This is where I complain, and I'm going to do it as much as I can, since I'm sick of this shit. These are just things I'm generally dissatisfied with my family and just things that surround me.

First, my family is made of fucking imbeciles incapable of abstract thinking and understanding concepts that go against conformity towards sociocultural norms, every sort of deviance is frowned upon, even if the only justification that those fucks can muster up is their fucking indoctrination.

Second, I'm fucking sick of my mother. Bitch should have just aborted me back then and never asked for advice, would have done me a huge fucking favor. I think it's better never being fucking born than being born to a family of imbeciles, in a lousy relationship where your father is a fucking alcoholic that decides to leave your joke of a mother (and I don't really blame him, I wouldn't even go near a woman like that, unless I was really desperate) and your mother ends up with . . . Another alcoholic. Good thinking ma'! And to top it all off, despite the several fucking times after he got drunk whilst I was pre-school age and went off raging across the flat in tries of beating the shit out of me, she never got the clue of breaking the fucking relationship permanently. Yes, people can change, but, I think it shouldn't take 5 times of repeating the same fucking pattern to understand that maybe things won't just change by themselves.

Then, that bitch wonders why I have zero respect for her or her partner, when most of my childhood has been in the company of a person who was never pleased with anything a boy could do, unless that boy tried as hard as he could to fit the cultural male stereotype. Big fucking middle finger to you guys for that. Grow a left hemisphere and start actually setting your own values. Oh, right, it's too late since you're over your 40ies and you both are going to die sad, miserable, damn unhappy, and propably lonely as well. Boo-hoo.

How about the fucking time when the fucking raging prick wen nuts after me not wanting to use the mirror in one room just because I rather used another one near my bed so that I could at least comb my hair without being judgementally watched and the fucker ended up beating the shit out of me and I went with a big-ass bruise on my eye to the school and ended up telling everyone I got into a fight, because I was fucking embarrased to admit that this was done to me at my home, the very place where I should fucking be safe?

Oh, and guess what my mother did about that? You guess right, she did nothing. Weren't we a nice, happy fucking family? :)

Fast forward a few years, when I'm already a turd with low confidence trying to get close to people cause I've been alone most of my life and I can't really do that because I have no self-worth or any good social skills. Of course, there was a saviour, in a way, I had a computer, and that was a way to get things off of my mind, since I could focus on videogames and not the fucking misery going on around.

But that would be too good if I was just left alone at that machine, right? Rather than that it was a better idea always trying to deny the only actual pleasure I could really get at home (besides watching some of the shows on TV back then, which was incompatible if the fucking prick wanted to watch something else. Guess what, I didn't like that shit nearly as much), then terrorize the kid for not spending time outside when the kid literally has no friends whatsoever and the closest thing to a friend at that moment is someone he has never even met who just happened to offer some simpathy over the internet. And at times when the kid does go outside, you just try to restrict him from doing just about anything that is entertaining.

Then, after a few years of abuse at home, abuse and harrasment at school just because you're a fuck-up and you're not really as wealthy or as cool as the other kids around you attemts to fix things come into play. A lesson gets learned and new values are set, mistakes are made and the whole thinking changes. And when you just think that maybe things are going to be somewhat good again, guess fucking what? We've got a surprise in store for you. Todays special: a duo shitstorm, because when told to go to sleep, you took your .MP3 player and decided to listen to some music. I can barely remember the whole fucking night, but I remember how I, all tensed up and shaking and imagining the idea of killing my stepfather for years prior to this moment, ran into the kitchen and grabbed the knife to get rid of that cunt once and for all.

It doesn't take that much to make someone hate you so badly he wants to kill you. When one of the most comforting thoughts you have in your mind is of someone being dead, I think it's a safe indicator that there is a problem going on.

Of course, for a while, things get somewhat okay, but then, it all blasts off again. What the hell does one do when one cannot feel really safe anywhere? There is no place like home in that situation, there's just a sleep-rally.

Fast forward a little more. You're a depressed ball of self-loathing, guilt, grief and pathetic is one of the words that could describe you just about perfectly. Your mother then wonders, why would you want to kill yourself, when there is SO MUCH to fucking live for. Sure, but by far, I haven't liked what I've had, give me another fucking menu.

I think this more or less clears things up for people who wonder why at times I get apathetic and depressed and claim that maube life isn't really worth living. If this isn't convinving for you, it definitely was for me.

I am Jacks coping problems. Thanks to me he is unable to just let it go and keeps indulging in masochism over and over, and over again. He understands that he has to free himself from it, but I am what keeps him restrained. At one moment, he will gain enough power to get rid of me, but, until then . . .

I ingest the flame and let smoke roll out behind my eyes.
Trembles across my body, set and setting is what they say must be right.
However, being right all the time is exhausting, for there are instances in which I rather dine on sorrow of falsehood from my own mind than celebrate the corectness of my assumptions that carve the implications of my experiences on my skin like a sculptor carves the images in marble.
And like them, mine can never really be removed, either. Experience is like amputation, once you've done it, you can't really ever go back to how things were, even if you replace the limb lost. Things always change, and I must change with them, for better or for worse.

You know how there's an awareness month for all sorts of diseases?

Well, there should be a ''stupidity'' awareness month.

> get up
> /b/
> post advice just to feel a little better by helping someone
> cry
> keep lurking
> think of getting back to wow and addicted, cause then at least there was some distraction

this is dedicated to people who want to kill themselves.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okn04uhNPRA

yustraday

Muscles twitching, neck aching.

everythingwentbetterthanexpected.jpg

''If you really believe that death leads to eternal bliss, then why are you wearing a seatbelt?'' /Doug Stanhope/

Paradox

Statements like ''nothing is permanent''; ''nothing lasts forever'' and so on are paradoxes by their very nature.

Think of it, if nothing is permanent, then the rule itself is not permanent, thus it will change at some point, therefore creating a possibility of permanence.

Letting go of happiness.

There was once a boy who wanted to be happy. No matter how hard he tried, he could never catch happiness, it always slided past him and he became exhausted as he continued chasing it. Sometimes happiness gave in and let itself be caught, but only to run off away later, leaving the boy deprived and wanting more.
After several such occurences, the boy decided not to chase the happiness, he decided to let go. Happiness just kept running around until it realised the boy wasn't trying to catch it anymore.

- Why aren't you chasing me anymore?
- Because I'm tired of it. It's all the same every time. I catch you eventually and you slip away.
- So? Everyone does that. Everyone wants to be happy.
- I know, but, I thought that, maybe, there are things better than you. Maybe it just isn't worth devoting my whole life to catching something that will slip away every time I look the other way, in order to seek for new goals. Maybe thosegoals are far more precious than you.
- But that's not how it works, everyone wants me. You can't just leave me.
- Yes I can, and that's what I'm doing. Who knows, maybe someday it will be you who will be chasing me, and I will be running away?

The boy went on after saying that. He let things just happen, and he understood that, at least partially, he was right. Sometimes, when the goal is too big and broad, short-term solutions should be ignored, in order to build foundations for the long term ones.

Maslow's herarchy of needs is a theory in psychology. Don't take all theories for granted, folks!

Pop music: ''Love, bla bla, parties, money, love, love, sex, fame, bla bla . . . ''

And you wonder why our society consists mostly of imbeciles when such stupidity is actually endorsed?

Light up your hands and wrap them around me.
A hug of gasoline and a mouthful of lies.
You know, I have always wondered:

''What's hidden beneath the skies?''

''We love Rohypnol. She got Rohypnol. We take Rohypnol. Just forget it all.''

There is some sort of numbness. As if I've been opened up and my brain's being spoonfed to someone.

Relentless demise perserveres.
Haunted, grasp for a twig of a tree on the edge of a cliff.
It cannot hold on for long.

- But what could they possibly be learning?
- That to live is to die. Every day, a little bit.

At times, I think I ought just to shut the fuck up. But then again, who will whine about things that are far from my liking if not me?

Quote of the dirt.

Just remembered a silly quote, which is as follows:

"Great minds talk about ideas, average minds talk about things, lowly minds talk about people. [paraphrased]"

However, this quote fails to follow the notion that, whoever uses it to guard itself from criticism or, even worse, to criticise other people, is, in fact, the lowly mind, since this mind talks (and thinks) about people at the exact moment. This is one of the fatal flaws that the pseudo-intellectuals using this quote never seem to notice.
Another one is that the statement of the quote implies that each mind - great, average and lowly, - only focuses on the one subject applied to it, and nothing could be farther from the truth.

The way I see it, a great mind will look at a person, see a situation (a thing) and derive an idea from it (by making what it has learned more abstract, and thus, more applicable to other situations).

Just something I wanted to get out of my head for a while, in order to put the people that are dumb, but want to seem intelligent into their place, which is, in a comfortable environment, doing what they should be doing all along instead of bragging about intellectual prowess they do not have - improving their cognitive functions (which does not mean just learning certain facts, but, rather, improving a certain set of skills) 

Desolation and obliteration has occured on this accursed and forgotten land. Dilapidation will fill the void between walls, and even your lungs will breathe carnage. Remember that which you never knew, if you want out. Puncture your eardrums and enjoy the eerie breeze, which entraps me behind its cold roots.

To all you patriotic fucks out there.

Fuck you!
Ok, but seriously, you are one of the most idiotic sheeple, and I'm about to get to the reasons of why I think that.

Whenever there's a day that many of the citizens of the shithole I live in (and not just here) devote to visiting a stone structure and put plants that are condemned beside it, in order to seemingly show their respect for people that fell in war or fought for a certain government, my feelings (if I am aware of that, which is not often) are usually a mixup of pity and ironiy, and when I express that, I often hear that the people that participated in war were ''heroes'' or that they fought ''for a scumbag like me to live in a free country'', and I cannot help but get angry at the individual saying that.
First off, the argument that those people fought that I, or my generation would live in a free/good conditions is automatically false. Any state and government means lack of freedom, period. You cannot be free if you are restricted by anything, including laws. And you folks, to whom freedom means that you can vote for one of the lesser evils, rather than live without it, I cannot respect you. The people that died could not know what the outcome of my generation would be if they had lost the war, just as they could not have fought for me, because I simply didn't exist then, therefore, nobody could know what I'd want. This argument goes right into the arse.
Then there are folks who, instead of spewing out patriotic messages, start saying that ''you have to respect the dead.'' What? Why? Why do you have to respect the dead more than the people that are alive? And why the hell would you grant respect to someone, who doesn't deserve it according to your system of values? Not to mention that dead do not give a fuck what you think/say about them and whether or not you respect them. They are dead, they do not exist anymore. Just because your parents have taught you to respect the dead and you are brainless and gutless enough not to question that doesn't mean I will or should do the same.
Patriotism just seems like a completely idiotic thing to me. I mean, yes, you were born in a certain country, but, did you choose to do so? No, you were put here by chance. If you have positive feelings toward a certain country just because you were born or grew up there, you better start feeling patriotic for the whole world, cause, it could have been so that you would be born in another place/family/setting, since you didn't choose it. Why would you feel proud for something you never chose or had an impact on? It's like being proud with someone's contributions to society. You might as well as start being proud with Mona Lisa and Einsteins theories, to mention a few. That seems just plain dumb.
Same goes to loving relatives just because they are, well, your relatives. If people deserve to be treated good and loved by their actions, then they should be loved, but granting them such feelings just because they share certain genes with you seems as dumb to me as patriotism.
Oh, and returning to the dead do not care argument, can anyone explain me, what do you accomplish by showing respect to dead people and leaving flowers next to a stone structure? I certainly don't get the meaning behind such behaviour.

You guys are a bunch of arrogant imbeciles, stop thinking everyone is like you or someone you know, they're not.

Projection is a faulty method used to gain understanding of how the other person may feel or behave in a certain situation.

I just flashbacked on what my not-too-bright philosophy teacher told me last friday. When she was talking about power, she mentioned that, after marriage, the female often starts displaying her power by making the husband behave in a certain way. My response was that ''It's the man's fault he decided to give up his balls and participate in such an imbecilic ritual as marriage.'' The talk escalated into me stating that, rather than performing an absolutely unneeded ritual (marriage), I die alone. Of course, the classmates did not like this idea, and especially, me saying that ''A woman that makes an ultimatum for her man to marry her or she will leave is worth less than a piece of shit to me.''
A classmate of mine asked, what would I do, if a woman would demand me to marry her in order to, for example, living with me. I said that I'd tell her to go fuck herself. Same applies to any woman ever giving me the line of ''No sex before marriage.'' Why? Simple. If you need a ritual that is essentially meaningless to me, costly, and pretty much unnecessary in order to have a relationship, you are faulty, faulty in the sense of not desiring to work for a relationship and being too insecure to believe that a relationship can be maintained without marriage. Sure, it takes a lot more trust and effort, since you don't start taking many things for granted as you do in a marriage, but, if you cannot handle it anyway, then the marriage wouldn't be worth it.
The whole deal, however, ended with my classmates (who are, I presume, obsessed with the thought of starting a family in the traditional sense of the word, as well as desiring to procreate and have a marriage) shunning me and the teacher telling me that she knows a man that was saying something similar to what I was - her husband.
And this is where we get to the main point, she was implying that, because she knew someone who had a similar stance to mine and changed it, the same thing will happen to me.
Same applies to what my mother said about me being an atheist. That I will experience something that will make me believe in a christian god, just like she did.
And this is a fault of most people. We assume things. We assume that, just because a certain person acted a certain way in a certain situation, everyone else with a seemingly similar setting and position regarding a certain idea will act the same way. False.
Why? Simple, people are not all the same. Since everyone is an individual and is formed by a different set of external factors (not to mention the internal ones that arise from the external), no two people are exactly the same, unless they have an identical starting point (biological and genetic makeup, as well as situation), and live an identical life, which is not possible, thus, assuming that everyone will act the same way you or someone you knew acted in a certain situation is just plain short-sighted and, at times, even arrogant.
Sure, some situations imply a limited choice of behaviours, for example, it is unlikely that a person that has a gun put to its head and is told that it will be killed, will try to jump up to the moon, it does not mean that such a thing will never happen.
So, what I want to say is that, people should make less assumptions and project own (or people known) personalities to people that seem to have similar personalities to a known person, because, if you or someone you know acted like that, does not mean that this person will do the same.

And you thought I could be nice when you're such a shithead.

I'm not sure of anything anymore. It just seems so that people cannot be trusted, and, if I'm proven right at that again, well, just fuck that. I'm sick of being so alone, yet, whenever I try to connect with someone, they fail me. It is always like that. Whether it's the way they treat me, or maybe it's just that my expectations are too high. Hell, people aren't worth shit, yet, the darn evolutionary mechanism requires social interaction. I mean, it's only sensible, it is easier to survive in a group than in solitude, not to mention the fact that genes tend to reproduce and that is impossible without any kind of interaction with the same species.
If I will be proven right, god help you. Because then, I will be nasty, oh, very nasty. See, people oftentimes think that some people are just born evil. It isn't necessary so. Some people, like me, are shaped like this, we become evil, because that is how we deal with the malevolent world around us. In fact, we're not much more evil than others, we're just way less nice to the people that pretend to be nice towards us. We are cynical and hateful, and we would devour anyone, because that's what you taught us, dear mom and dad, and peers and just some random shitheads that had nothing else to do but to fuck with some innocent person for the sheer fun of it. You create the likes of me, and although it is up to us whether we accept us in the evil way or not, ultimately, if things were different, we'd be too, so, ultimately, your fault is the biggest. You make a kid see the world as a malevolent place, don't wonder why he doesn't want to live in reality afterwards.
If I am proven right, god help you, for then my boundaries will extend further, and petty vandalism crime will be least of your concerns from me. If I am led too far with this, homicide will take place. If you keep failing me like this, at some point I'll start killing you. One by one.

I think you, too, have noticed, that, as time goes on, people are centering more on man as an object of fear.

Think of the latest two Batman movies. In both, the main characters have never been as human as prior. I think same applies to almost every horror movie or video game.
Humans seem to be more frightened of their fellow man, or, at least, a humanoid. In nearly every horror story it's either that you find your loved ones killed by your neighbours and you are left for dessert, or that it was actually you who did all those gruesome things. Or you were just imagining it, and you cannot decide, what's worse, when you really kill someone, or when you think you have killed someone and could swear that it happened.
In every latest horror story/movie/game, a humanoid is both a protagonist and antagonist, isn't that so? It's either that your enemy is you, your fellow man, or something that *was* your fellow man. Zombie movies come to mind. After all, they are quite popular lately, and, whoopidy, almost every malefactor there was once a human.
The question is why?
Why are we scared of ourselves?

Sometimes I have to be left of the equation. Most times I, as a character, just don't fit in the sentence, in the word, in the world. Maybe it is the world that I should be left out of. Maybe I'm excess, maybe I'm unneeded, maybe I'm the turning point, I'm not sure. I've seen things, most people refuse to see. The bars that are cast in front of the sunlight, the dog that would gnaw on my flesh, the concrete that would hug me. Besides anyone who wants to hug my body, concrete is the only thing that would hug me as I am, that would accept me, not deny. I am excess, and, like the concrete of a never finished building, I am just here, for no purpose, because I'm just a part of something that isn't, and, most likely, will never be finished.

I am cold and there is wind, I am cold and there are barks that threaten to eat me alive, I am cold and there is an endless desire to be fullfilled, although I know I never will be.

I propably should fucking kill myself.

I'm sorry, guys. I really am.
I just have to be left out of the equation.

For both me and others.

Dear whoever the fuck reads this.

Go away, leave me!

Noose.

I'm having some absinthe in solitude. Not even sure what's worse, being alone or having people around. Both have their drawbacks.

I guess I should get something to eat. No idea what to do tomorrow. Sigh.


I've got some more points to add to my ''disappointed with people'' status. Oh, well.

Japan experiences massive earthquakes. Who else doesn't give a shit?

Yes, I know there are more than 100k accidents because of the earthquake. Yes, I know there are power and communication line failures. Yes, I know that some japs have died from the earthquake, too.
And I don't care!

But what I do care about is human stupidity. Especially if someone is stupid enough to call to people praying for Japan.

People that think prayers have ever or ever will change anything ought to be enslaved. Just saying.

I am you, you are me, you are I, we are us.

Dear reader, I would first like to introduce myself to you. I am you. Simple and, yet, at the same time, so very complicated, such is this concept, isn’t it? You’ve been raised your whole life to believe that you are only yourself, that you are inescapably tied to your name, family, social security number, your documents and so on, yet, what if this was not you all along, and in fact, the real you am I, trying to contact you through a text that never existed in the first place, but is merely an illusion, fabricated by your own mind, which you have come to trust more than anything else. And the equation is interchangable, dear friend, I am as much you as much as you are me.

But let us stop for a while and think on what we really are, shall we? Our name is not what we truly are, we could exist with another name or without it altogether, same with the security code and other things that we are forced to have by the government. We are also not our belongings, because those belongings weren’t always ours and will not belong to us forever. Some will be lost, some will be sold, some will remain. Another thing you propably thought of is the reflection in the mirror. But is the reflection truly a reversed image of us just because it is an image of our body? If we had another body, we would think that that body i sus, but, applying that reasoning, we are not allowed to choose what we are.

Now, that is, of course, quite false. We are, in the world of 21st century we live in, enabled to change, if we desire so, and not just change in the physical aspect. We can also change the undesirable personal traits that we find limiting or otherwise unpleasant, in order to reach some goal. So, in a way, our psyche is a semi-solid, yet semi-deformable thing. There are aspects we cannot, or aren’t willing to change about it, yet, there are so many aspects that we can change that the question of what we really are will propably never, ever be resolved.

Describing yourself as your profession is just silly, we know it, don’t we? I mean, we could lose our job together, or have another job, and when we lose the job, what are we then? What are we when we have no profession? There are, however, certain things we will always be. We are a bunch of cells squeezed together, forming an organism, we are an animal, a mammal, human, yet, I do not feel that the word human would describe me that much. I feel more of an animal than the illusion of human the society was trying to imprint on me, and I rest assured, that you have felt it, too, because we are the same.

Now, if you are me and I am you, then where is the self? What if there is no I, you, me, them, us, and even no we? Maybe, in fact, the whole existence is just a big, silly nothing. We will never know, if it’s a lousy plan or a bad joke, but certain things, propably, are to never be known. So, dear me ( I hope you don’t mind me calling us like that), why not just do things that we desire to? Why not just stop worrying, at least for a moment, look around at all the unpleasantness we see, and understand, that it is we, who’ve made it that way.

Dear reader, our life is here, right now, but we never know when it will be snuffed out. It might be a car accident tomorrow, it might be of a heart attack 40 years from now, it might be any moment, so, why not just do the things we desire to, instead of holding ourselves back and obeying to someone or something?

They don't care about you, so start caring about yourself, will you?

We have reached an official verdict, nobody gives a shit. The authorities and the government, most certainly, do not give a fuck about you, me and our peers. What they care about is staying in power, at least long enough to have themselves some nice and comfortable living. Nobody represents you, so why not represent yourself? Fuck all authority, cops, you can blow my ass.
Law enforcers, that's what cops are. They are not people guardians, peace protectors, moral inclinators or anything like that, they are law enforcers. The sole purpose of the existence of such a profession is jamming the cock of law deeper into your anus, and so that it hurts, yet, so that you would let that dick fuck you for a long time. If you don't see it, please, go jump off a bridge. What, however, seems ridiculous to me, is that, for some reason, cops really believe they are doing something good. Narrow minded, shallow idiots.
I have difficulty concentrating right now, 'cause my head is aching as if I have headbutted walls yesterday. This was not a waste, however, at least I think so.

Too.

Drinking alone makes me talk too much, do too little. Heck, too bad, I guess.

Soundcloud.

I am now registered on Soundcloud. Uploaded some tracks there, too.

Here's the Master Of Fear:


Master Of Fear by Paraphiliac

Squeeze.

Popping a pill is never hard. You just squeeze it out, place in your mouth and swallow. But when it comes to popping tens or hundreds of pills, it gets time consuming. Even if you know that the result is well worth the effort, it isn't quite as easy to motivate yourself to swallow the handful of pills you have prepared just for this exact ocassion.
And, not to forget, you also need something to wash it down with. Tea works well here, but so does turpentine, alcohol or any liquid household chemical you can find. The more toxic, the better.

The life is unfair, deal with it!

Life is not fair, get over it!

Why on earth do people bother bringing their own sense of fairness and justice into the real world? Yes, there are the blind, the crippled, the ugly, the fat, the miserable, the poor, the stupid (vast majority), and so on. That is how they are, and let them be like that. People should be only helped to be able to help themselves. If a person is unwilling to work/fight for what it desires, I assume the person does not desire it much in the first place.
Stop trying to make the world fair, you will never succeed! Sometimes horrible shit happens to people just for no reason and there is nothing you can do about it. Your compassion is rarely needed at all.
Speaking of compassion and sympathy, there's a reason  I don't like apologies. I just don't see the point. Why would saying something justify the harm done to a person? One guy in my school was insulting me for almost a year, and I have to admit, that by the end of year, he apologised, and, you know what, although I was surprised, for he was one of the few who actually apologised about that, I got angry. An apology is oftentimes nothing more as means used to get guilty conscience off of your back. If you have no guilt, you do not need the apology. Imagine you killed someone's wife, and then said to the person you're sorry for killing the wife, you think your apology would matter at all that much to the person that has lost a significant other? I think not.

Anyway, returning to the topic of life being unfair, let's mention charity, shall we?
Charity is fucking stupid. Period. I mean mostly the charity of giving something to the poor. Help those people help themselves and leave them the fuck alone. If a person is unwilling to do any work at all in order to get money, let the person take care of itself any way it can. If a person is crippled (say, it has lost several limbs), then let the person do the work it is still able to do, if not physical work, then mental work. By feeling sorry for those people, you are only encouraging them to feel sorry for themselves.

''But I lost my whole arm in a war!'' Too bad for you, however, I think you knew that it was possible when you went to the location of ongoing combat, and, since you knew the consequences and still decided to take on the risk, don't try to cause my compassion for your loss, which you could have prevented.
ANY loss that is sustained during circumstances in which the person perfectly knew it could have sustained (like, say, drunk driver gets into a car accident, a sportist suffers an injury, a person in a combat area loses a limb or dies), should not be felt sorry for, period. Why? Simple, because if the person knew the possible risk of the actions it was performing and was still willing to perform said actions, the person decided that the actions performed are well worth the risk.

My thoughts seem to have become way too chaotic lately. I can barely write any argumentation, instead, I seem to just make statements. What the hell is going on with me?

.

I have to admit.
Not easy to say it.
My being's mundane,
And I might be insane.

Marriage is unnecessary, ridiculous, and just plain stupid.

Marriage (or wedding, I'm not sure which word describes the ritual better), is stupid. Marriage is, a symbolic ritual, usually held between two people so that they show that they commit to the other person. Bunch of horseshit if you ask me.

If you really have feelings for the person, want to be with the person on a daily basis, have kids from that person and that person is willing to commit to that, just fucking do so! Why on earth would you need to set up an unbelievably fucking stupid and useless (and costly) ceremony that would last for one day for that? You don't.

Now, there is the religious type of marriage, which I will not even discuss, because religion is stupid and anyone who feels like having to prove something to a person, who allegedly died for the actions of every other human being that are considered immoral by a religious manuscript, can go jump off a bridge and hit their head on a railway. You deserve it and you should do it! Do it, the bible says you should!

The reason why marriage happens, from my opinion, is fear. Pure raw fear from the depths of human emotion. The people that require marriage to have an illusion of safety. An illusion that their partner will never leave them, especially if the two (or more) have children. If you are afraid the person might leave, it means you do not trust the person, in which case, you are not commited to the person enough to be having a marriage in the first place. It also means that you are pretty much an insecure and miserable fuck, and are hoping that this ritual will somehow be something at all significant. You cannot control the other person, no matter how much you would like it.

Another thing I would like to mention is that, well, intimate relationships are not bound to be only monogamous. It is, in fact, possible, to have a poligamous intimate relationship. However, there is a social stigma assigned to that, since most of the kids get raised on the idea of finding that one person to spend the rest of their lives with, which is rarely the case in the real life.

I would also like to give an advice to, well, mostly guys. Folks, if you are feeling horny, have a relationship, and tell the other person that you want sex and hear:"No sex before wedding," I really, really, really reccomend you to control your anger to try and not punch the person in the face, take all your belongings from that person, walk away, and never, ever contact that person again. I should have done it when I had my chance, don't make my mistake, you might end up being in a relationship with an insecure psycho.

Ghosts are stupid.

The concept of ghosts (and spirits, for that matter), just like any other superstition, is stupid. Ghosts are believed to be ''souls'' of (usually) people that either are unable to transfer into some sort of another plane of existence (in this case, an implication is made that there is such a plane), or are voluntarily staying on earth, usually near the place they died, whilst not having their physical bodies (and, thus, such ''beings'' could not have any sensations, at all), for some fucking reason.
The day anyone proves me that such thing as a soul exists and is actually of any use at all, I'm going to chainsaw my face off. Soul is a superstitious concept, made to reinforce the ideas of reincarnation, afterlife, ghosts/spirits and so on. Of course, people thought soul to be the driving force behind every action of a human being, but nowadays, we know that it's a bunch of impulses and muscle reactions and that, in fact, our brain is our ''soul'', for, our brain is what stores the vital information about our personality, makes us what we are. In a way, we are our body, but the brain is the part that is 'we' the most. Now, if there is no soul, then how could possibly a human (or an animal) become a ghost/spirit?
Another ridiculousness about this whole idea is that someone, in their right mind (or whatever you call it when it applies to ghosts) would want to hang around after death, whilst being unable to have any sensory perceptions (no body = no sensory perception) is just plain dumb. Imagine your existence not seeing, not hearing, not feeling, not anything. A sort of misplaced existence for an undefined amount of time . . . Without orgasms.
Now, the only somehow reasonable explanation for this ghost phenomena that comes into mind is that creatures might leave some sort of informational residue even after ceasing to exist. However, if such residue is made, it has to be stored somehow, thus, I suppose even this assumption doesn't make sense.
The real ghosts, spirits, whatever you call them, that exist, are the ones in your head.

Psychological addiction - another way to say ''habit''.

'' ... the drug causes psychological addiction.'' When you read this, rest assured, that the drug is not more addictive than, say, alcohol or caffeine, or, it might be even less than those.

It is absolutely unfair, in my opinion, that just because some prick decided to make marijuana, LSD and other drugs illegal, I am forced to refrain from their usage. Whose body is this, mine or theirs? The question is for you to answer. When you succumb to law and authorities, it is their body, they own you. However, when you decide to do whatever you want to do, regardless of what anyone else thinks, you own yourself, and your body.
The only reason why they have laws that forbid usage of marijuana, LSD, psilocybins and other drugs, is because the authorities feel like they own you. They can make ridiculous rules, spread misinformation, and get away with it.

The so-called magic mushrooms, as far as I know, are less harmful than Aspirine, yet, they are illegal. They could form a habit, if you enjoy the sensations they bring, but in that sense, it's quite the same with any activity that you enjoy and it becomes a habit, however, they do not cause a physical addiction (unlike caffeine).
Same applies to other drugs, but, hell, even if the substance does cause addiction, it should be my fucking problem, not anyone elses.
People should be able to choose what they do with their body. But it won't happen, for as long as you don't let the authorities know that they don't own you. However, in most cases, the word ''don't'' doesn't apply, since authorities do own most of the people, and those people breed, creating more people that are owned by the system.

You think you are free? Think again!

Shoplifting.

One day, when I was reading an anti-shoplifting brochure that just pissed me off. I will present several quotes from the brochure and explain, why exactly they pissed me off. (This one has some of the arguments I cover: http://www.troopers.state.ny.us/crime_prevention/Juvenile_Crime/Shoplifting/)

"When you see someone shoplifting, stop them! They are really stealing from you."

Bull-fucking-shit! Stealing from you would mean illegally taking property that belongs to you. If the products in the store would belong to you, there would be no need to pay for them and people would be enabled to just take them. This part of the argument is absolutely illogical, no matter how you look at it. Property of the retailer is not your property.
Not to mention, as far as I'm informed, more shrinkage (shrinkage: profit that is lost due to theft, product being damaged or running out of date) is caused by the employees than the actual shoppers, and, in most cases with the stores, it makes sense to me. Security knows all of the camera locations and, thus, can find blind spots better than anyone else and steal things themselves. Employees can carry items out of the store through the back door, conceal them on theirselves or use other tactics. Shoplifters, well, they, usually, don't have as much information about the store as the employees.
How much do you think an average retail corporation with a wide network of shops earn, even despites the shrinkage? How do you think, the big corporations can afford various advertisements (TV, mail adverts, road-side adverts and so on), when advertisements are, in general, quite expensive? How do you think that, when a shop has a sale, they still get some profit from the item sold? Why do you think they are able to have ''sales'' on holiday seasons (when, in reality, it happens so that the price of the item is bloated above usual just before the holidays, and that ''discount'' is actually the original price they had when there was no holiday season)? The retailers are fucking you, psychologically, and you are absolutely okay with that, because it is convenient, when you can go to a shop and get various stuff at the same spot without having to visit different shops as you would have to do, say, in a market.

"Shoplifting raises prices for customes."

Invalid, shoplifting does not raise prices, at least, not directly. When retailers find out they have too much shrinkage (which, as I explained, is not caused by shoplifting exclusively), they decide to bloat the prices even more than before. Most shoplifters, in fact, are never caught, and stores (the big ones, at the least) do not have an exact statistic of how much items they have lost to theft. Retailers are the one that raise prices, not the shoplifters (not to mention that certain people shoplift due to the reason that prices are already way too high).
I have read both that certain retailers have insurance against theft, some have included the potential shrinkage that normally occurs into the prices of the products they sell already, but I do not have verified information on this (and I would, propably, not believe a retailer, unless proof presented).

"Shoplifting is getting something for nothing."

False. Shoplifting is getting something without paying for it with money. It is not, however, getting something for nothing, else, we could as well as claim that casino's are selling nothing for money and lottery tickets are expensive bits of paper and nothing more. I will get deeper into this matter later.
Shoplifting requires effort, skill, willingness to risk, and sometimes chance. If you haven't shoplifted, you will propably not understand that there is effort required and the stress that you obtain when you shoplift, and that, in my opinion, is the price the shoplifter pays. A shoplifter uses his or her skills to get the item desired, an analogy of pretty much every other job. I do not claim that shoplifting is necessary a job, however, it does require effort.
As for casino's (and the lottery tickets), what they are offering is a chance, or, to be more precise, a chance of winning. When you shoplift, you have a chance of getting caught (greatly depending on your technique, environment, skill, preparation and other factors, but it is, still, a chance). Therefore, if shoplifting is getting something for nothing, lottery is selling nothing. Seems illogical, now, doesn't it?

Why people shoplift?

It is highly dependent on the individual, but it could be summed up into saying that the persons needs (or desires) are not being met. Those could be finansial (poverty), emotional (applies to mentally guided shoplifters that shoplift for the psychological effect, rather than the item itself) and others.
I shoplift, because I consider myself impoverished (after spending a summer on mostly rice, eggs and untasty sausages, I decided I do not want to repear that experience). I do not see why I should not meet my desires while others are. Another thing worth mentioning is that I disagree with the law and the authorities. I have myself to take care of, and that alone is enough justification for me to do just about anything.

Nobody gets out alive.

I really need to learn to enjoy my solitude more than I am at this moment, need to learn to enjoy my own presence before others'.
Nobody. Nobody gets out alive, life leaves no survivors.
At least I came to realise few things today.

I hate what people turned this world into. A huge fucking shopping mall.

Land of the powerful, suffering of the weak and the death of everyone.

I wish I had the guts to slit my throat open.

At least.

I had no idea how much time I have been in the freezer, but my limbs were starting to get numb. I was shaking, clutched like a ball, so's to keep as much of body heat as I could.
"They're gonna find me, they will let me out. They will save me and I will have a warm cup of tea," I kept telling myself. I lied to myself, because that was the only way I could endure the cold. There were no ''they''. I tried imagining what's it going to be like when I get out, to feel all that warmth. The cold was stinging my lungs. I needed to breathe slower. Calmer. I needed to remain calm. "Everything is going to be alright,'' I lied.
The freezer was full of, well, frozen meat. Meat hanging on hooks, just like you would normally imagine a meat freezer. And I was just another piece of meat, placed in the freezer, waiting, to be hung on one of those hooks. I had no idea how I got in here, but I so wanted to get out.
''It's been less than an hour I've spent here, that is certain,'' I thought, ''after all, I am not shivering all that much. But what if the door never opens? What if I am to freeze here, on the spot? I don't want to die like this. Not like this. What was it called? Hype . . . no. Hyp-, hypo-, ah, hypothermia. Hypo-low, thermia-themperature, of course.'' For some reason, the fact that I remembered the word for that condition amused me, but just for a second, until I really started to think about it.
Hypothermia wasn't the idea I had in my mind, when I used to think of death. Hypothermia, death from freezing, a condition in which the core temperature drops below the normal requirement for metabolism and body functions.
As moments passed, with each shiver my eyes were racing across this small icy chamber. I knew, that if that door is not opened, it is only a matter of time before life dissipates from my body, leaving but an empty vessel of what others were used to perceiving as me. Of course, as time went on, it was becoming increasingly difficult to conjure up words in my head, and I retracted, more and more, into non verbal thinking. Not because it was beneficial, but rather for the reason of me being unable to keep my rationalization skills at their sharpest.
By the moment I had a thought of getting up once more, to bang on the door, to scream for help, to move, just to move, cause I foolishly thought it would somehow help me in this predicament, I found myself unable to do that. I was unable to get up, and, by this moment, I started to panic. As much as I tried to shout for help, all I could get from the top of my lungs were sounds that sounded more like an agressive wounded animal that was shouting just for the sake of being heard. The animalistic shrieks that I threw at the door in front of me just bounced against it, the walls, the meat carcasses, and went back to me.
I didn't realize it was pointless. When you're at the verge of death, you panic. Your survival instinct kicks in, telling you to do anything you are able to do, just to survive. The problem with hypothermia is that, once it reaches certain level, you are unable of thinking clear, hell, you start forgetting the simplest things. I couldn't even recall what a dog looked like. Not that I tried to, or that it mattered, but, I couldn't remember such a simple thing.
I tried to look up at the carcasses, but all I was able to see were blots of color. A dab of crimson there. A mixture of yellow ochre and a tiny bit of red here. Some bluish gray on the door. I couldn't tell apart the shapes, everything was a single shape, an entity. Every color touched the other color in a rather intimate fashion. Of course, I did not understand, what was going on. Shivering was pausing, at moments. I couldn't tell apart what it was like to shiver and not to shiver.
Curled up in a foetal position, I was just laying there, shivering had stopped. I kept watching the intimate dance of the color bits. They were my last entertainment, before my vision got too blurred, and, ultimately, I stopped seeing altogether.
Pale skin, pupils dilated, reduced breathing and heart rate. This stage is called hybernation. You appear to be dead, frozen to death, though, in fact, you are not. As far as I am concerned, after this point is reached, there is no salvation. Albeit I did not realize it, the little bit of my rationality knew that I am going to die. First, the heart stops, but it actually takes quite a while for the brain to join it. Maybe not a while in the living sense of time, the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, years, but, when you reach this state, perception of time is almost nonexistent.
Heart gives in first. If I was able to, I'd laugh at all the romantics, that say that they live by their heart and that ''love is all you need, as long as you have a heart'' to survive. I'd laugh not because I found it funny, but, rather because I found it so unbelievably and ironically stupid. And then, those few, propably very tiny moments later after my heart stopped, I ceased to exist.
My body was all that was left of me. This vessel that so many thought was me. This body, that had curled up into a foetal position, this pale blue skinned thing that, in a way, used to be me. It would be found the next day by some worker in this slaughterhouse.
Investigation would prove that some nutcase had decided to extend the list of its victims, by adding me to it. That person gained pleasure of knowing that others died in such a manner. They never found the person that had drugged me and left me there to die, but all that did not matter anymore, not to me, at least.
There would be people at my funeral, crying. There would be people praying, and there would be children, that were unable to understand what's the big deal all about, until their parents explained that their relative has gone away and is never going to return. At least, by the time they buried me, I had thawed.

Pirmais ieraksts latviski.

Es ilgu laiku nebiju jutis asmens silto pieskārienu. Tas glāsta, kā neviens cits. Tas nekad neatsaka. Viss, ko tas prasa pretī, ir laisties dziļāk.
Dažreiz, nav neviena, kurš saprastu. Diemžēl, dažreiz tas ir vienmēr. Vārdi, atsevišķos gadījumos, nespēj paust attiecīgo domu, šis varētu būt viens no tiem.
Es šo rakstu ne gluži Tev, drīzāk sev, taču nolemju to uzkraut Tev, kaut arī zinu, ka Tev ir lielā mērā vienalga. Tas nekas, es saprotu. Taču, kaut kas nav kārtībā. Vienkārši nav. Es nepatīku sev, pat ienīstu, varētu teikt. Varbūt tādēļ, ka esmu cilvēks, varbūt tādēļ, ka es neesmu apmierināts, nezinu, taču, vai tam ir kaut mazākā nozīme? Mana nozīme zūd brīdī, kad mans pulss nokrīt līdz nullei, elpošana tiek apstādināta un pēdējās dzīves pazīmes pamet ķermeni. Tajā brīdī, viss, kas no manis ir palicis, ir šī tukšā čaula - ķermenis. Ķermenis, kurš vairs nekad nekustēsies, nejutīs, nemurgos, necietīs. Ķermenis, tik vien, ne vairāk, ne mazāk. Protams, tieši tāpat būs ar Tevi, tas ir neizbēgami. Mēs visi trūdēsim, kļūsim par augsni, pāri kurai soļus spers laimīgie un ne tik laimīgie. Un nekam tā īsti nav nozīmes. Ne tam, ko Tu esi domājis, teicis, rakstījis, zīmējis, attēlojis, darījis, nekam. Pat tam, ka tas ir nozīmīgs citiem Tev līdzīgajiem dzīvniekiem, nav nozīmes. Tie, gluži kā Tu, mirs, trūdēs. Dzīve liekas tik sekla, ka dažbrīd rodas vēlme no tās šķirties, taču, citos brīžos, esmu tik truls, ka spēju izbaudīt to, kā ir klāta krāsa uz ēdnīcas sienas. Dzīve ir kuce, ar kuru mani izprecināja, man neprasot, vai to vēlos. Manai mātei vajadzēja veikt abortu.

Sleepy eyes, intoxicated.

There is something wrong with me. At least, it seems that there is. Might just bemy imagination, though.
Either I'm losing myself, or just starting to realise who I am, I'm not sure, really. What does it matter, anyway? Well, okay, it dies does.

-

I throw your care out through the window.
Watch it fly away!
As it crashes on the pavement,
It's the world that'll chuckle.

Problem of modern art.

Painters of the previous ages had a rather difficult challenge. Since paint was never pre-made, they had to either make it themselves, or order it. The costs of some pigments were rather high. For example, blue pigments were even more expensive than gold, due to the the fact that the pigment used in ultramarine blue could only be obtained from a semi-precious stone. In the modern day, we don't have that problem anymore. We have synthetic pigments that have replaced the natural ones, and thus, modern day painters have access to any desired pigment, and it is a lot cheaper than it was centuries ago, however, modern day painters face a challenge somewhat different.
For a painter to be exceptionally good and recognized, the painter has to have a distinctive style, theme, or ability to transfer into image things that other painters are unable to transfer. Since there are a lot of existing techniques, coming up with a new technique can be rather tricky, as well as the theme. How many paintings of flowers, landscapes, buildings and people (and other animals) have you seen in your life? I can say that I've seen a whole damn lot. Maybe the problem is that there are not that many things in life that pose interest to human beings? The most difficult task, in my opinion to this moment, would be painting an emotion without any depictions of human form or suggestions of the emotion that is to be portrayed, yet, achieving the goal of the painting being able to give the spectator the feeling that is portrayed. Try painting anxiety, without using human shape. I find it as a rather difficult task, especially, if the painting must achieve the same effect on the spectator.

And it's not just about painting, same applies to any art media. Music, sculptures, and so on. Multi-media arts, like film are, of course, a counterattack to those, but, in almost every movie it's about people, emotions, relationships and their problems. People are self-centered assholes, we cannot come up with anything of interest other than our own kind. Lame, if you ask me.

Like I said, artists of the modern day face a rather difficult challenge, since, coming up with something new is extraordinarily difficult. I can only feel sorry for the ones that will live centuries from now on, because they will have us as their concurence.

And how are you today?

The feeling of rusty nails in my skin is calling for me to respond with an accurate answer to a question that is yet to be asked. It is safe to reveal that I do not hold the answer. I might have the idea of the key, but not the key itself. Chances are that the key never existed at all. The lock is there, present, but the key . . .
Breathe! Remember to breathe! It's all repetitive. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale.
With the air that you breathe your lungs fill up with all the wretchedness of the world you're trying to inhale. You become the world. With every single breath, you are one step closer, to being the world. This rotten piece of an existence mimicking. When you exhale, you only lose yourself even more. It's best to die young if you want to die as yourself, because, as you get older, when you die, the world dies.
Sugar caramel is never to be enjoyed without a good dose of acidic liquids to wash it all down your gastrointestinal system. Remember to keep your household chemicals at ready to be consumed any moment, should you desire to have yourself a treat!

''How are you today?''
- ''Nonexistent.''

If only . . .

The feeble attempts of human mind to comprehend what is to never be. To lose last tiny drop of humanity and forget one has ever been such an abominable mammal type. I wish to lose myself. Wish to lose the man in me, the human inside me. I should not be this humanoid, this thing. I am an animal, after all.
My nonexistent presence of a feeble mind that should not be. I should be gone. Forever. Never here, forever away, no matter how long forever really is.
I could be a beetle, I could be the wind that plays in your hair whilst  you are watching the sunset at a beach, I could be the fire that has scorched someone's house and left the person homeless, I could be the ground that feels the first footsteps of a tiny newborn, anything but this. Anything.

Away from the people. Away. It would be nice not being human, for then you do not have to go through both the bliss and damnation of being such a creature. Creature. It describes me better than anything else, I think. Better.
Rotting away in here. Feeling the worm of existence feast on my very being. It feasts, and I keep feeding it, but it is insatiable, it will never stop. Never stop.
Spots in my mind never leave, they only sometimes decide to depart, but they are present. I know. They are there.
Repetition. Again. And again. And again. All over and over again.

Trivialism #1

Today I was waking up a lot. My mouth was dry with every time I opened my eyes and I had that unpleasant taste that I usually have when I have a sore throat. Each time I went to drink some water and went back, and woke up after about an hour or two, sometimes to find that my actions have transferred from my dreams to my real life.
In my dream, I was holding a mobile phone, and, well, when I woke up, I had held up my hand to my ear. However, I decided not to try to get up after all those sleep breaks and sleep until some time, and here I am now. It is 11:41.
The climate in the flat is rather cool, so it's not too pleasant, but I do have some pleasant music playing.
Shoulda propably get some tea . . .

The girl was an angel.

There was once a girl. A beautiful girl. The proportions of her body and face were next to perfect. Her smile could leave anyone dazed and anyone who really looked into her face wanted to examine every line and shadow on it. Every single strand of her hair played with the wind, giving the viewer reflections of the colour. But the girl didn't know she was beautiful.
When the girl was just a small child, she used to play in the sandbox that was in the playground. A teenage boy was often coming to the playground and read a book, while sitting on the swings. The girl never knew what the boy was reading, but she noticed that the boy rarely looked happy, apart from the few seconds when he was laughing at something he had read, but even then it seemed more as if the boys laugh hurt him, rather than making him feel good.
One day, when the boy left the playground, he had dropped a small piece of paper by accident. The girl noticed it long after the boy had already left, and she picked it up, in hopes of giving it back to the boy, so, maybe he wouldn't be so said. On the paper, there was something written by hand, and the girl read it.
- ''Are you an angel?''
- ''Why do you ask?''
- ''Because you are fucking ugly.''

When the girl came home, her mommy said to her: ''How are you, my little angel?'' The girl looked confused and as if she was about to cry. ''Mommy,'' the girl asked almost crying, ''am I an angel?'' Mommy, thinking that her girl is the best girl in the world, said: ''Of course you are, sweetheart.'' Mommy smiled. The girl never looked into a mirror again. She hated them. She never took any pictures of herself. The girl was an angel.

Fuck you, world!

Feeling drowsy, tired, and in a rather bad mood.
The real question is why don't I have enough motivation to put an end to all of this. Like I claimed, there are several ways of loneliness, mine is not made by not having people around me, but rather by not having people that actually understand me. The ones that are around understand only a part, or think they understand, but I see that they don't. Maybe I am ill . . . I'm not sure, all I know is that I have a lot to read, a lot to listen to and a lot to revise.

I never thought it could get this dumber, but I guess there's still worse to come.

I am just baffled with the stupidity. A 20 year old male tried to convince me today that pre-marital sex leads to depression. Of course I considered it bullshit, since, well, I've had sex and I cannot possibly imagine how the sexual act itself can lead to depression.
It is not the sexual act itself, that leads to depression, it is the beliefs associated with sex. If a person has unrealistic beliefs regarding sex (which are often fed by religion, media, stupid parents, morals and so on), of course the person will view sex as something it is not. Sex is a sexual activity, nothing more, nothing less. Sex can be with one person at a time, two persons at a time, a dog, a rhino, or all of those together whilst one of the persons is playing an accordeon.
Depression comes after these people either get their beliefs crushed and need time to adjust to the real world, or keep believing the bullshit they believed before and blame it on the sexual activity they did.

I still cannot comprehend there could be someone this stupid. Seriously, just . . .

Don't forget to wipe!

Hello, I am freedom of speech. In most cases, all people do with me is wipe their rear ends, because, if your opinion contradicts the opinion of the society you live in, I am of no worth.
Of course, I am not satisfied with the position I'm given, but people are way too intolerant or scared from an opinion that differs from theirs for that to happen.

Censorship is censorship, when it is something people believe in and support, however, censhorship gains a different appearance, when it's something people are against.

Do you want to know what's the worst thing about censorship? It's that you ███████████████censored███████████████

Death and artists.

Van Gogh, Francis Bacon and other artists became more famous after their death. While some of them had recognition during the lifetime, it seems that death has some sort of auto-advertising effect. People tend to pay attention to people either when they're dying or dead. Isn't that quite ironic? I am sure Van Gogh or Jackson Pollock could use some more support during their lifetime, but it seems that it isn't so. Do all artists, in order to be valued, have to die first?

What pisses me off like hell.

You know what just pissed the flaming fuck out of me? How thousands (or more) people watched a video of soldiers returning home from Iraq and those people (ones that watched) claim that they were crying and that those, who say anything against those ''heroes'', these whiners or the video are heartless.

Let's start off with the fact, that a person cannot be heartless and survive. Heart is not responsible for emotions, the brain is, get it right you damn morons! And yes, I know that it's a figure of speech meaning that this type of people lacks sympathy and/or empathy (depending on how the person understands it). The thing is, that the people who are attacking you whiners are the ones (in most cases, at least) that have more empathy and understanding of the whole thing. We feel sorry for the children that have fathers fighting in Iraq, but not because their fathers are fare away. We feel sorry because their fathers are labeled as heroes although they are not. They are either imbeciles, greedy bastards or just plain violent (depending on the reason they go to that war at all). The reason we feel sorry for those children is that they are going to grow up patriotic in a sense that they would be willing to go to war just like their fathers did. The reason we feel sorry for them is that they don't have a father for the period he is gone there killing people. The reason we feel sorry for them is that people like you make other people believe bullshit.
However, people like me think that lying to masses is wrong, and let's accept it, the war is all about money. You are not fighting terrorism, how could you fight it, anyway? You might be fighting a war in Iraq, but at the very same time a small, but dedicated terrorist group could be positioned, say, in NY, or United Kingdom, or Laos, or any other country. What is terrorism anyway? I think it's just a mislabel for someone who fights for their freedom or personal beliefs, nothing more, but, please, correct me if I'm wrong.
War has always been about money, always. Land, oil, people, gas, and so on, all of those are resources. And if you got recources, you got means to making cash. It's as simple as that.

So, to anyone who STILL doesn't understand this, please, do the humanity a favor, die as soon as possible, by any means necessary. The world can live without an imbecile like you. And chances are, without the likes of you, things would only get better. Maybe not better in your moralistically ''right'' sense, but things would change, and I believe that it's exactly what the humanity/world needs. It needs a change.