The Knife Silent Shout 2006 + singles + remixes + live versions Artwork, cover designs by Johan Toorell at Bold Faces. Look at these fellas: This album almost feels like a part of my personality.

Wishing to be understood, seeking acknowledgment, hoping to be heard, seeking approval, searching for meaning, seeking permission (the worst) are simply false paths. All of these and similar tracks lead to misery.

The Horrorist Manic Panic 2001 + extended 2cd release
Where to start, where to begin? Well, this was my beginning or entry point to electronic music in my actual adult life, I believe (as in full on, on purpose going into electronic sounds and electronic music with intention and questions) - and this person, this musician, I do believe. As in, I believe in. The Horrorist you trust fully or run away from. Oliver talks straight to you, directly to you, tells stories and tells his curious stories in a way you find it hard to escape. I am not sure alternative music could get more honest and face to face than this. This is the only clear narrative of the electro Depeche Mode-goth night out. There is more sexual tension and tied up confusion here than anywhere else cause this one is as is, this here, this is honest... And if you come from similar places as him, it will all click easily but the normos and "generally idle people" fall right into a pit of spikes, they get sucked into the void. SWOOSH. None of my early friends back then understood what was I so excited about... And this is not only hardcore techno- his music transcends and goes far and beyond. His latest release, The Sky Is The Floor is such a trip, such a journey... His music is all electronic all around but it's like going from club to club during a never-ending night with a close friend, crashing into cocktail bars, doing some business in a shady corner on the streets, laughing your pants off and crying your soul out, back to the hard EBM debauchery, into the maw of dungeon clubs inside dungeons within dark holes... It is 2000-something but both legs and the helpless arms are still dancing in the 1980s. This is definitely one of the true origos of such electronic heights and depths. > discogs.com link: "American artist and producer based in New York City (now in Berlin). He is the founder of Things To Come Records. Prior to releasing music as The Horrorist, he had his "fifteen minutes of fame" when he won a contest and appeared on the Depeche Mode documentary 101." > The Horrorist bandcamp page > The Horrorist instagram page > I actually find it difficult to express how much I love this artist. Be brave, go on, sink in.

Finally got to this. Expected something less streamlined, as in more avant-garde tracks so to say, but still probably would've recognized almost all tracks as Hells own on a blind listen too. Fucking love it. Gonna spin it a million times. 10/10

My life is chaotic. It is not my choice. It is though a very difficult fact for some to grasp. Some are unable to grasp this. A definition: real problem: something one is unable to solve, as it is beyond ones control. Some minds are weak (and I do not mean this to be arrogant but I just have to say this, this way) cause they are unable to take ten steps back and see the larger ...chaos. People tend to blame me for that, for the chaos. I am at fault for some reason. For some reason I am blamed for things beyond my control and I want to dissect that. It seems, according to them, I came up with certain concepts. It seems I somehow invented systems and rules and lots of constructs and somehow I am enforcing them, somehow I am behind entire countries, I magically lead them and I magically control armies. ... Or... I am at fault for not bending over (to my wider family), for not crawling on knees (for unacceptable terms), for not lying my way around (I did some white lies, for terrible jobs), for not "networking" (I did, nobody cares about me), for not doing the work (therapy, I did for some time, then I did opt not to be more traumatized and sink further into imagined horrors), for not joining in the chant (converting to christianism or whatever that is). Go fuck yourself, I say. I always did my best and the most - as much as I could. As much as could, I wore a mask and a smile, as much as I could fuel that, I did and I did push on - without causing harm (except to myself) to do any sort of shitty hospitality job, basically. I understand survival. The compromise. And somehow I did not just fully lost my mind yet. ...very questionable a fact at this point and I feel like I am terribly just repeating myself. I do not choose chaos. I choose stability. I always did. What I do not choose, is to be some piece of shit. I did choose to remain in the UK. The systems and the people around me did not. Nobody gave a single flip-fuck about me. Nobody understood my problems and it did not matter at all - cause the only person I wanted to talk to was some lawyer who could've helped me fight Brexit. I of course, did not have the money, nor the energy. My partner refused to talk to me cause they were afraid of me (as they described in retrospect, me texting them hysterically). Which threw me into hell, not just yet capital letter hell at that point but that soon followed as well. I had nobody to talk with at all. I was told so but that's not how I've felt. ...What kind of partner refuses to talk to you when you are at the end of your rope? And turns away ... cause you are upset for having your life shattered into a billion subliminating fragments? "You caused this" i don't think so. I tried my best to fight Brexit with all available sources I had, calling every number, writing every "begging on knees" emails. Unwanted. Refused. Insignificant. Still living the trauma. And the rest... And I experienced similar before, in a previous life with a previous partner, in a different country. Some people are expats, some are immigrants. ... Some people simply have a case of brain rot. Fucked up in the head. ---utterly dismissive of me but I only reflect, touche. What to blame for this ...rot? It is obvious. Only those with brain rot can not see. Any sane person now can put their finger on, can right up pin-point what causes lives to crumble, people to suffer. Plain as day. So... I always choose stability and did my best to get there. Anyone who fails to see this simply have brain rot. I keep repeating myself... to myself, as I was unheard and dismissed. MY own brain rot creeping in... I explain as much as I can and as much as entertains me. Nobody owns any explanations, any fucking reports to anybody. I explain to myself, I think that is it, so to be lighter. I do not feel at fault for doing my best... Now two years have passed. According to everybody else, I did nothing. ...and ...sometimes I just wish the nukes were falling all over, on every city, cause people seem to refuse what their eyes see and what their ears hear. We are closer to that scenario more than ever. Because of the brain rotten and those choosing to get brain rot. I simply have no more patience, nor tolerance for bullshit, no more time to waste. I wasted the best years of my life on people who did not give a single shit about me while I did everything, I did my best and all I could. Wasted. Wasted away. I did all I could. I did my best. Nobody to witness the struggle. Brain rot. There are good people in this world, still, I know. But the brain rot. They hate you if you have a personality. They hate you if you are angry. They hate you if you are an individual. Most people are so fucking lost and they hate you, from their guts. They may not even understand but they hate you cause you are found. You find yourself and the reward is hate. And I fucking hate everybody back, gladly, and via the same hidden way as they do. Removal. You are not invited. I am building strong boundaries, something I never did. It feels really fucking great to abide by yourself. Only by yourself. It feels the only way to be. You. No distortions. Still waters. It will bring hate, it will bring controversy, problems, exploding bridges, refusals. It did a lot for sure. So many bridges I burnt. Burning dogshit (xenophobic, sexist "old friends"). Oh how I do not miss most of it (wasted creativity, smalltalkers, general incompatibilities). Life is terribly short and I have very little youth left in my body, I think. (And I bet, if I reach fifty, it will be a very slippery and steep downhill, no matter healthy lifestyle or any sort of magic.) Choosing and choosing well where to give the energy is the only thing that matters now. ...me. I need to give it to me. Objects do not matter, good people, the good love matters. Let the brain rotters rot away. Let it burn. Move on like a shadow in the night. ... I disagree. And I follow myself. And I like that about myself. That is how I want to live. There is so much more I wish to write about and so much I still loved to express. And so much I still yearn for.

I've built a tag system, now posts can be sorted by tags. It is a mix of CSS and JS, not amazing but not something ultra heavy. Music blogging while I clear up my other writing. Here is one of my favourite albums: Adan & Ilse & Peter - SADISCO You might've heard a version of "Boys In Eyeliner" from another EP of theirs. This one, this is easily an instant classic and a legendary release, I gamble. Minimalism is maximized. Dream meet cosmic slaps to the face. Taking drugs on the streets and at the same time having the best sex between velvet sheets. It is a trip and a vacation to your subconscious. The 80s are right here and the boring world doesn't exist. Flying. Love. Stars in blue nightsky. Such smooth sodomizing love, it is that coveted kiss at the back of a dive bar, it is the darkest 2am walk at the lonely side of town, the lost brain (W.Borroughs word-chaos initiated...), you, within you rise, in transposed delay and back to the warm arms and the embracing tranquil purple electricity, the ultraviolet visions through night club temptations, to SADISCO you descend. ... Enjoy.
I also do recommend checking out basically everything on Pablo's record label cause it is crazy release, after mint, after amazing music pieces. This is a part of the "hidden" underground, truly high quality, killer music from the heart, curated with care.

Nobody can give back a single flick of positivity if they receive no respect, no credit.

"Fischerspooner are the purest form of spectacle, a distillation of the universal desire for excitement and escape, a ploy devised by subversive artists to infiltrate popular culture and promote the intellectual pursuit of ultimate pleasure. Their debut album, '#1', is filled with moments that move between punk and pop, eighties electro and post millenial techno. Including 'Emerge', their debut single and 'artist statement' which freshly combines elements of (mainly) electronic music from the last twenty years, flirting with the classic pop format and running it through a filth filter."

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Accusing someone of the very things you do (and working your way to hide them) is low... very low a thing to do. Not acknowledging actualities (the only thing i ever complained about) -and telling me those are insignificant details -then you, yourself witnessing the opposite -and still insisting... is low You telling me explicitly how people are irreplacable -then i caught you red handed, then you replaced me low You telling me I am not even trying at all -when all I ever did and do is push that boulder up, forever... You telling me I do not want to fix things -when you did everything you could to make sure the spilnters can never be put together Carefully gathering all my mistakes and painting it as blood on the wall -really low. low. You INSISTING i do not have a heart. All your work is making me believe i actually do not have so. HOW LOW HOW VILE Looking for justification in the fall of another Twisting and gawning... instead of anything Anything but Insanity. Despite all, despite every little stab, all I did was keeping to my word. Left with nothing. Absolute without. Low. Gamer, Liar, Soul-Gangster. Still, all I can leave is a rose.

-> it's not like i do not understand it all but from over here, this is how it played out feelings are feelings, wounds are wounds You can't kill love. There is nowhere to go from adult love. What once was real, will forever be a part. If it was the good love, there is nowhere to go. alas NOW PICK ME UP WHIRLWIND I MUST RETURN TO THE BEYOND FOR ONCE AGAIN TO EMERGE ... *walks out in a Ronald McDonald costume* *honk* "You can't take shit seriously, can you?" Yes, I can and do, it is just not a time to afford that. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go total batshit crazy here. - noise ksssshhhhhfffffff *switch TV channel* - Wrote extensively on how i am displeased, disappointed by, alienated from the local queer communities (or all the communities i encountered, for that matter), in a highly critical and demeaning manner... Wich is no good, that ain't nice and it goes nowhere so, simply cause i am such a brilliant-mind-everybody-lookat-me (sometimes i think i am deemed egoistic ...more on paranoia later) or cause it's way more interesting and actually productive and valuable for me and others: i turned the writing against me, into a filter through which i pass myself to the other side, so I may learn something of it at least... (...Do other people do this? You rake up a pile of criticism and then try all that against yourself?) But first, other notes. There was a dialogue between two characters in the series I am watching to soothe my brain, an engineer guy said to another person "I do it for the challenge." He meant solving technical problmes. For the challenge of it. Help solve serious problems, help others plainly for the challenge of it. Learn, study, practice and get over technical problems merely for the challenge of it. That's fucking noble. I find that noble, humbling: I help you with that complicated annoying stuff, simply cause I enjoy solving annoying complicated stuff ...and it makes me feel good knowing I helped you. Now... That's nice. And that should drive tech nerds. ...Instead techy bros are in for this crap for the money and to look clever. *sits back down and continues to fill molotov bottles* - noise ksssshhhhhfffffff *switch TV channel* - An absolutely vile thing one can do is to tell you how you are feeling, deciding how and what you feel. Tell you what you do. They come up with their own reality and project it, onto you, to others around. ... Sometimes not even clear communitcation can help. Sometimes nothing is enough cause there are people who will keep to their own ideas, no matter what. That is the cue to leave. When they refuse to discuss, to bring anything of the matter before a third party, when they will talk to everybody but you. That is the cue to leave. Thank you, I'll keep my dignity. As I am a lone miner. I dig my way, my own way, by me, through the endless shit. Thank you. *honk* - noise ksssshhhhhfffffff *switch TV channel* - More on the 'man' thing: Men has to fucking hold their own fucking hands. That's what to be done. That's what therapy will say cause it is not done in the first place. Fathers are shit cause society, communities, the crowd-garbage-mind-shit have no instructions or have ill instructions. Eh. Hold their own hands and lead themselves. It's very easy to sort the beans this way, just ask, does this banana lead himself by himself or does he have a mommy or poppy to wipe his ass? ... And I hate to read "re-rapenting". Nauseating for me to read. I definitely do not want to "re" especially not "parenting" myself. I understind it all very, very well. Thank you. But as always, I rely on courage and I extend on the main thing i ever been doing: untying myself, rewriting my fucking dna, removing all the sickness my body carries. What I do is move forward, like a horse running or something like that. I get sick when I can't, when I am held down. I am doing it all well, thank you. I got this, had this process of mine rolling way fucking before I was ever told of any advice. Going against nature, the very being which others intended me to be - is needed. I also understand one can not just remove basic needs which all mammals and one does not just turn into a happy singular being. It is the exercise of it all that i need. The hammering against that wall. The sculpturing process. Fucking witness me. - noise ksssshhhhhfffffff *switch TV channel* - More on non-binary Richie: I do not want to be the straight(jacket) dogs. I am disgusted by the degenerate things they say. I am on my own. I do not want get married. I do not want a house, I do not want to drive a car. I do not want hair on my face. I do not want hair on my chest. I want to laser out my ass. I want to get done that vasectomy. I do not want lads. I hate football. I hate macho crap. I want to 🮆🮆🮆🮆 🮆🮆🮆 🮆🮆🮆🮆🮆🮆. I do not want anybody to care for me. I hate kids. I love gay shit but I go rrrrrr for afabs. I do not want to hear about family-anything. I am not submissive but I don't want to be dominant. I do not want to walk like a man and I do not want to walk like a woman. I do not want to care about man or woman. I do not care when my fucking birthday is. I still do not own a fucking suit (although). Fuck reputation. You know, it's not easy being insane, ya. ...Or considered a whacko WHILE WE HAVE PROOF THE WHOLE WORLD IS LEAD BY THE ACTUAL TOTAL BONKERS WHACKO EVIL SCROTUMS. ... Constant TURBO PRESSURE - noise ksssshhhhhfffffff *switch TV channel* - FOREVER CLAWING AT HEARTS FOREVER CAWING AT HEARTS FOREVER CLAWING AT HEARTS FOREVER CAWING AT HEARTS

Hi! More rumblings. Shorts first, I have three drafts for longer posts in the waiting queue, shirts later... I was about to give credit for the original creator of the font I used as a basis for the logo but having checked the website they sell their countless commercial fonts from... They do not seem genuine so fuck em. (I used Inkscape to mess it together.) if you are feeling funny and/or bored click this Debating titles for the upcoming (...) book I will release for free (...), in which I will collect all of my writings from the past decades (everybody's favourite topics to read about...). A new runner up: Rectum: Up In What And Why I Am So Fucking Pissed Off About Everything Where's your art? On paper, offline. They/You turn off the 'ai' warehouses, stop using the cursed apps, boycott the shit back to hell - i upload the art. Simple as that. No? No. You will never meet anybody as unforgiving as I am. That extends far and wide, transcends constructs and social norms, even goes all up to internet habits. No fucking art for you, first you exorcise the demons (services). Stubborn can be ground up, filtered, eaten again, become a different stubborn. There are things we do not just pass by. There are things never to be forgiven or forgotten. There is renetless and unforgiving. And there is stubborn, which is stupidly dismissing and not agreeing "just because". I am one and not the other. The world is currently on a hospital bed and it is insane. It's not me, it's insane, rich twats and their followers who are ruining everything. No artwork to see. Electronicblackmetaliqueue Electronicblackmetaliqueue Electronicblackmetaliqueue Electronicblackmetaliqueue Non-binary existence from my perspective Uh, this will be brief: Gender = Rules set by others. Gender thingies described well by queer communities = Still rules set by others. Fuck that. My ex was upset when i handed over this: i do not really care or akcnowledge all these queer definitions. I wonder about the amount of upset the meter would show if i just said this to a less intelligent queerdo. My argument wasn't valid, so i (re-)presented them with a brief paper an agender friend of theirs did. That way it was ok. ... Now, it is true, i take it further and i trust i come from further beyond with my ideas... Indeed, I shit on the constructs even by nature when it comes to defining myself. I just "chameleon my way through" society. What i am and how i am concerns only me and those who i choose to be close partners with. If you just want to fucking exist with yourself, I do not think, if it really is just something for you, if it is your person and something private, this all to be egoistic at all. Simplifying that sentence: I owe no description of myself to anyone. If I do not feel like I fit into boxes: then I just don't. To me (at a very personal level) meaningless words: family, mother, father, marry, wife, husband, children... All the normie things were taken from me probably even before i was born and my only response to that is: go ahead, take the crumbs too, i know a better way to live. The end. According to me they are cool non-binary people, ones I really dig: Diamanda Galás Prince (though spawned a child so not fully non-binary according to me) Q (fictional) Data (fictional) Rick Owens (male body, with definitely an alien inside) my ex (-_-) Other. Fabricated. Made up. New. Beyond. Not willingly and not by choice but cause that is the only choice left, the only door to walk through. DaDiskotecqhue DaDiskotecqhue DaDiskotecqhue DaDiskotecqhue

Here be demons Introspection. Organizing thoughts. Documenting. Regurgitating. Taking notes. Sending messages to the future. Learning. Transforming. Information. Lessons of the self. Exploration of the mind. Words of power. I have my work backed up for the last two decades... today it just occured to me, that I do. Almost every drawing on paper stacked away somewhere. Notes, pieces of paper. Notebooks. All data, every picture, every digital photo taken and every text file written, offline, on a hard disk, often multiple copies on different drives. (More on this hoarding later) Everything backed up except for previously mentioned unfortunate blog deletion. Anyway. Writing, taking notes. Diaries, anecdotes, papers, essays, poems, stories. This is not entirely natural, I wager. This is a conscious decision. (In cases compulsory). This is a choice. A deliberate choice, a conclusion and actioning. Put it into words. For me it is about dissecting. The more I look at it, the more I ask why, I come to that conclusion. Dissecting myself and what I encounter. That is the only science I mess with. I don't call it philosophy, it is somekind of work, I ... I stare into the mirror and look at the world, and I describe my thoughts and feelings. Reflection. ...some crazy rumbling. Documenting... Mmm-hmm. Create. Write, paint, dance, sing... Creativity! The natural state of mind, as long as I am concerned. ... Well, I have decided to run a public blog again. Things have to go out. OUT. So, I'm gonna run this "topic" within the blog posts titled "Things I am currently pissed off about" (...) so here it is: Things I am currently pissed off about and worried about: 1. men. If somebody happens to find and read this in the future, do take a look at the date and note recent world news. It is always men (the cause of problems). It just has to circle back to cocks. Fighting cocks, slimey cocks, lying cocks... Isn't this so annoying? That which supposed to be fun, somehow makes its way to be a malevolent curse. Yes, there are rare exceptions and there are enablers but at the centre, the spark of the problem is somehow always a man. So let's dissect men. (...) Oh, and also, this is the very thing (writing, I mean) what men better do, what would improve things a lot: to deal with the crap themselves. They ought to pester only themselves and take time thinking. Take time and energy to see. We know it is very powerful a craft. Now, I do consider myself non-binary, simply cause everything about myself just makes more sense that way. ...or in other words I am a fucking bitch and fuck you. ...am serious about the first part. Will write more about this later. No, this writing won't end up as an excuse or plea - nor even as reasoning. I am driven by desires. This is about things I desire. You won't find me washing hands, I know I won't ever escape "the man": I have this frustration in me which I am afraid is too late to see out the door: I have to live up to certain "things". A moral duty. A vexing effigy. It lives with me. Admit. I can't help but admit, I look for figures to be. "Who am I?" That "be yourself" is such an... empty room to walk into. Since you are the room, for fuck's sake. ...Damn! I am me, who the fuck else would I be?! The room has to be filled. ...With yourself. Eh. Be yourself. That works outward "automatically", despite whatever argument. Introspectively, now that way, it sure can be a car crash. I remember writing a lot on this before, "you have to put yourself into the fire" and so on. In other blogs I wrote about it plenty of times, I haven't had much of a father. ...Oh well, of course I could've chosen to think of them as such, but I do not even bother to call that person a "man". What a weak joke. Neither animalistically nor as an intellectual impression, if I remove the phyisical threat (psychological horror for a child), there is vacuum. The "father figure" for my person is but a warning. This alerting sign: WRONG WAY. Myself as a father... Now, I honestly do not even like to nourish a pet. This has to do a lot with logistics as well but I would go great lengths to make sure I do not reproduce biologically. All my previous partners shared the same sentiment. But taking the omnious father out of and far away the picture and making it all FUN, and also to get to the point: What should be a man? How to man? Values. So, What dignifies a "man"? What makes a worthy, a decent man? Being able to carry it. According to my experiences a donkey should do. Not to downplay or say anything bad about anybody but yall gotta carry objects all the goddamn fucking time. Groceries. Jackets. Towels. Art. Drinks. Life does demand this part, this isn't even a joke. The hands are full. The weight. All the weight. A decent "man", according to me: -Does not complain. Takes on challenge all times. Competes only with himself. -Respectful. Patient. Relentless about the work to be done. -Endures. Carries said weight. Teeth clenched, goes on, despite anything. -Constantly wants to make a difference. -A walking safe space. -Listens. Helps and aids others. Does the fucking best he can. -Self-diciplined, not self-denying. -Expresses feelings and thoughts well. It is up to the character, up to the "core personality" whether he can live up to this ideal, whether he is able to sustain all that and keep afloat... A good man has to. Now, what I've personally found out - (apart from how distorted and sickening this "figure", say, for example the "family man" has been twisted, came to be, ...or was always a faulty device, a bad one, a fatal example within society) - is that everybody has their own limit. Every single person is finite. That should teach humility in itself. Cherishing and respecting life. I trust a mind in harmony does appreciate and respects all life. Finite. Finite energies and finite tolerance. The candle burns out. A suppose and I propose, if going with previously so boldly listed, so grandiously described charactersitics, the idea, the goal is to enhance and grow this candle of our dear man. Energy runs out. But at first, there is no energy to begin with. Growth and cancer. Here comes the taint. I think this is where the mulch, the filth, the evil - might - enter. This is the crossroads where that specific choice comes into play. The ways to get "there", the routes of becoming, the various options to pick from are laid out in every form and shape. That is, if the little boy is not pushed to believe he has no choice or it is the holy father he must also become... AND And, I know well, very well, the way, the salvation or the cool commando or the amazing bachelor or the saint figure, he can wear a suit and a smile. Or a robe, carry incense sticks, look alternative, anything, any form, stupidity can jump on the stage in any way imaginable. We can list all sorts of shitheads, can't we? In a way, I think of myself as fortunate: as I was pushed away from all figures, I saw how everybody lies. And I did not trust them. Cure. Humility and honesty is the antidote. Honesty with oneself: one does not "just grow". Accepting limits, or 'the' limit is a healthy way to add a little growth. Abuse is obviously a sick way, still, I think many and most go that way. Simply, I think most boys, men just do not understand abuse. Anything about it. (They are playing in the sand and have no idea what they are doing. That is not and never excusable.) To keep it less than a hundred pages and somewhat less grim than it already is, I move on. Need. There is no escape from the needs. Now, even if our little, dear little man is keeping in mind and abides by the "decent man" list, there will be needs. Constant needs. The maw of the world moves and it has to be fought or fed or both. Doesn't matter if the man is the acquiring, suit wearing type or the typical dumbass worker, they say "I got to make money for my family". The world. Finite energies and the world... I confess, it is very tiring even just to type this. The great whirlpool of the world. The drain. Climbing up and the other hand working against the mad fucking world. After writing all that down I can't help wondering: Is madness the most common "destination" of ambitious people? I call for help. Dougie Jones calls for help. I call for an example to study: Watching Gul Dukat in ST DS9 completely losing his brains after he lost everything and his daughter died in his arms. (Yes, I need my fantasy/sci-fi distraction from the madness, thank you.) I love you, Dukat, you are a beautiful man (up to the 7th season). Although you are entirely fictional, sadly. Get this: This character lives up to what is expected of him by his society and by the rank he is working and in between he is chasing down what his heart desires. And I underline, kindly and respectfully towards others. Now, to not be a murderous, heartless shit as he is told to be, he goes against agendas pushed onto him, truly tries to improve things for people for who he's not supposed to care about, puts his pride out of the way, accepts losses and yet nobody gives a fuck to listen to him and is continously vilified. RESPECTS women saying no to him and is kind to them. Somehow, I can't help but think these lizard-looking humanoids in the series are hated simply for expressing themselves well, speaking wide and clever, carrying themselves with grace. I see them as greek philosophers who do not lay around but live life full while busting their ass around hard to get shit done. And all the while are at odds with all what they know and powers they have, measuring and weighing their own possible actions and actual doings, they aren't just dogs, they truly think. Let's get back to Dukat specifically. *edit: no, this fucker is not narcisstic, he just carries himself by his spine -> he IS narcisstic as fuck in the last season (not as much as Sisko, though) Not once, he loses everything. He fucking listens to people who otherwise non-stop mock him, just to do the better thing. Then his people betray him, his wife leaves him, he is basically made fun of, yet he stays strong and works his way back to his rank, to dignity. He has mercy and goes out of his way to try to look out for the common folk and please people who still mock him, wrongfully. I am repetitive cause the character faces that too. He doesn't lie, he expresses himself the best he can. Let's take note. He was a reasonable man and nobody gave a damn to listen to him. What happens to him? In the end, losing everything (to forces beyond him, some fantasy shit within the sci-fi) and absolute betrayals knocked him down into madness. I could say, despite pushing himself to the absolute tits limits, giving all he could, he ended up losing. Talking about that boulder going up the mountain... Humility and power. Now, it sticks out already, this character's downfall was his hunger for power. He could've stayed a farmer or something. (Picard in his vineyard.) But for him, according to the fantasy world, that wasn't really an option (fully militant society). In reality, humility is such a forgotten elixir: "This is all what I can do. I see now, that was way too hard for me, probably that's how far I can go." Fake, religious humility is all around but the silent one, exercised by one by themselves is a rare occurence. Something of a conclusion: I, obviously, have an unusual take on things, a differing view on the world, yet I would expect most people to agree: As anybody, who try and try harder in life, say, not only within confines of jobs, or science, do tend to end up in a rubber corner of sorts. Even the ones being filthy rich... That's all for the piss and worry for now. Next episodes: -Non-binary existence from my perspective -Why hungarian feminism fails and why i think local queer is doomed -People using services or why and how i hate people -We all think "I am better than everybody else" -Where's your art? -and i will continue dissecting "the man"

Well, waddaya know, some sudden burst of energies and bold plans can really knock one out of depression... Or at least I am heavy on convincing myself about that. Either case, I am a busy-busy bee for a long while now. Let's go. I've fixed an "eroded" texture as a background image to this blog cause I feel somewhat worn, a bit dented here and there, chiseled down by the years and so it fits well my words. Yeah. Hello. I used to blog a lot, I used to write almost everything out. Out. Concerning that, a grand mistake of mine was deleting (without a recoverable trace) what I was writing from the age of 16 to 20. Although living a life thinking: "oh I better look out and not make mistakes" is a terribly stressful one. There are mistakes in life. Mistakes we make. Yes, there are terrible and lethal mistakes one can make. More on that later. Anyway, there is a lot I wish to type out but before, I've made a little digital patch thing to signal how extra-very very much I oppose the rotten bullshit that is going on: or link to file

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* previous entries moved to the archive cause reasons*