tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179687062024-03-08T01:01:56.833+02:00Cathairs, the universe and everythingAnyone wishing to contact me please send an email to endymionwillawake(at)yahoo.comindigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.comBlogger417125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-5257104002674588952023-07-04T03:35:00.008+03:002023-07-06T03:16:29.530+03:00Dilemma<p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/j1rCOMlRZvY" width="320" youtube-src-id="j1rCOMlRZvY"></iframe></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I think the basic question should be- </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Do you want more power, or do you want peace?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Most people try to find inner peace by seeking power.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Power over others, power by being in control, and more rarely, by becoming tyrants of themselves.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Power does not grant you peace.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">If you want to find peace, you need to let go of power.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Of course that is easier said than done. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">You will be crushed, time after time, until you think you'll never be whole again.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">You'll sit with yourself, trying to hold your own hand, while everything is falling apart.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">You'll frantically struggle to be in control while there is no control over anything. Control will always be slipping through your fingers like water.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">You'll doubt and second-guess yourself until your brain aches. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">And that's not even a full list of what happens when you seek the path of peace. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I'm sad tonight. Whatever woke up by the full moon is having a party inside my head. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I'm also dead-tired. Tired to my bones, to my very core. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I need to find a job that does not make me hate my life.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I know I need to let go of power and control, and </span><span style="font-size: large;">instead </span><span style="font-size: large;">exercise self-discipline over my thoughts and feelings.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">No guarantee this will work, of course. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It's ironic to need a guarantee to let go of control. Similar to removing your life jacket, but not before you have been handed a life ring.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Life, by definition, always hands you jack shit before kicking you right in at the deep end.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I do know one thing. If self-discipline doesn't bring results, at least I'll suffer less. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">And that's about as good as it gets. </span></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVtwcyoeRZWSRSiODGZY3UAnAfCdDmkURMgqEfDMe6_hRCKVOVvTsvumvwf0cEU9wH4In4PRj3q2hfwIMTUZ37LTY2xur3sYLpmasNnGlJCUVY3Q6Lzng5WFe9cUNAdJ3pUUF7Ul9GbWWFPBPLMCHZ3AxjaCk89Wtt8CYXusHJOyM1HFWHK264Q/s850/quote-i-must-not-fear-fear-is-the-mind-killer-fear-is-the-little-death-that-brings-total-obliteration-frank-herbert-34-33-30.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="850" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVtwcyoeRZWSRSiODGZY3UAnAfCdDmkURMgqEfDMe6_hRCKVOVvTsvumvwf0cEU9wH4In4PRj3q2hfwIMTUZ37LTY2xur3sYLpmasNnGlJCUVY3Q6Lzng5WFe9cUNAdJ3pUUF7Ul9GbWWFPBPLMCHZ3AxjaCk89Wtt8CYXusHJOyM1HFWHK264Q/w400-h189/quote-i-must-not-fear-fear-is-the-mind-killer-fear-is-the-little-death-that-brings-total-obliteration-frank-herbert-34-33-30.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span>(As per usual, if you'd like to support this tired old cat, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy her a coffee.</a>)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span><p></p>indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-73659709935245098262022-11-14T22:00:00.036+02:002023-06-20T05:10:56.207+03:00Let's talk about fashion<div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">More specifically, let's talk about things I hate. Since bad fashion and bad taste make me suffer, I decided to give you a glimpse inside my wonderfully sarcastic mind. I am sick with Covid and feel extra bitchy these days, so there you are. You're welcome.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The wet cement hair look:</span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEw59WsqWLtbA8YrF8JGNV02pTNTjIn0KldbyhpLvzWIHTsu33TmjlTXZRqKIXdlce4gxZxGDZCAN3ri8AZk1r7r6_oN21y5mnifbBh29BQ5ruP8coZsfWQc9PgyZNL_gEc-bZqID6CUoBlQ5C4tn2glg6tVjNXj1Acy6UMJ5fgOwke0qPvg/s1349/Screenshot%202022-11-14%20at%2019-54-24%20Khlo%C3%A9%20Kardashian%20Wears%20Abs-Baring%20Gown%20as%20She%20Joins%20Kim%20Kardashian%20(Dressed%20in%20Vinyl!)%20at%20CFDA%20Awards.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="1349" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEw59WsqWLtbA8YrF8JGNV02pTNTjIn0KldbyhpLvzWIHTsu33TmjlTXZRqKIXdlce4gxZxGDZCAN3ri8AZk1r7r6_oN21y5mnifbBh29BQ5ruP8coZsfWQc9PgyZNL_gEc-bZqID6CUoBlQ5C4tn2glg6tVjNXj1Acy6UMJ5fgOwke0qPvg/w556-h245/Screenshot%202022-11-14%20at%2019-54-24%20Khlo%C3%A9%20Kardashian%20Wears%20Abs-Baring%20Gown%20as%20She%20Joins%20Kim%20Kardashian%20(Dressed%20in%20Vinyl!)%20at%20CFDA%20Awards.png" width="556" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">Picture source<a href="https://people.com/style/khloe-kardashian-wears-abs-baring-gown-as-she-joins-kim-kardashian-dressed-in-vinyl-at-2022-cfda-awards-photos/" target="_blank"> is here.</a><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Came across this picture, and I will not say a word on anything except the hair. So, the hair. This magnificent hairstyle is very simple to achieve; judging by the colour, first you pour mustard or diarrhea on your head. Then you wait for it to dry a little before styling it in that dashing "my hair is trying to run away from my head and I had to take measures" pinnacle of achievement. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The nude lipstick</b> (as seen in the pic above):</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ladies, your lips are not supposed to be the same colour as your nose, unless you are dead, or on the way there due to severe anemia. The human mouth is usually darker than the rest of the face. Trying to make it disappear is not the goal. You want to use make-up to look more alive, healthy and attractive. You won't achieve that with a lipstick several tones lighter than your natural lip colour. I understand intense red may not be your thing, but tuberculosis brown or cadaver beige is not your thing either, believe me. In fact it's nobody's thing. The only exceptions to this are: Halloween make-up, zombie make-up, a significant other who's a necrophiliac, OR having dark brown or black skin. In that case other rules apply, and beige or even white lipstick can look sensational. And please oh please, do not use a dark pencil to define your lips and a visibly lighter hue on the inside. Only professional clowns do that. Are you a clown? I didn't think so.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The cheap green</span></b></p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnfR7iwKccNrFVcKC_v81J01tk0A3uL7RB3vEw6eRvF_7B9UJQqxK7zKGEes0MKguB4PJo7ceOx6ipSmeVqc-ypty8jxuEgz3l642bE45oFmHKcEurajc3tCDc4yLjVDDO9YgLAoV3aOKn3pX0rF6g3WBy9rAi7i-ewfqYIdPTqUhND_zZihc/s300/Screenshot%202022-11-14%20at%2020-24-34%20Gildan%205000%20Heavy%20Cotton%20T-Shirt%20-%20T-ShirtWholesaler.com.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="300" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnfR7iwKccNrFVcKC_v81J01tk0A3uL7RB3vEw6eRvF_7B9UJQqxK7zKGEes0MKguB4PJo7ceOx6ipSmeVqc-ypty8jxuEgz3l642bE45oFmHKcEurajc3tCDc4yLjVDDO9YgLAoV3aOKn3pX0rF6g3WBy9rAi7i-ewfqYIdPTqUhND_zZihc/w414-h331/Screenshot%202022-11-14%20at%2020-24-34%20Gildan%205000%20Heavy%20Cotton%20T-Shirt%20-%20T-ShirtWholesaler.com.png" width="414" /></a></div></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">This shade of green always looks cheap and
tacky. It also doesn't look good on anyone except maybe foodball
players, who get paid millions to wear sponsored shit, so colour choice is the least
of their worries. I'd give it a wide berth. It screams last discounted
items and misery. It is particularly ugly in shoes.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Stiletto nails </span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIO_Qgkw0YJ4RA_MOgOUT0oMMgw6JDpZrDcpCVBISc1psPCPF0JKCXZIkfld1Kl1ABhnVl9LCtb-NpJtI1nePnqrLYKR_GdVv5Ad8UkkdYK2g0raiQK-pRbPfVIXNZ8___1TjvjIIcVeFO_wbxCiYiWeCtYA6wliXcHXCAQqUE46i8Dd5ZIM/s1049/green-nails-10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1049" data-original-width="567" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIO_Qgkw0YJ4RA_MOgOUT0oMMgw6JDpZrDcpCVBISc1psPCPF0JKCXZIkfld1Kl1ABhnVl9LCtb-NpJtI1nePnqrLYKR_GdVv5Ad8UkkdYK2g0raiQK-pRbPfVIXNZ8___1TjvjIIcVeFO_wbxCiYiWeCtYA6wliXcHXCAQqUE46i8Dd5ZIM/w216-h400/green-nails-10.jpg" width="216" /></a></span></b></div><b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don't know </span><span style="font-size: large;">which </span><span style="font-size: large;">hellish hole this style crawled out of, but it needs to return there and die asap, and failing that, be killed by fire. It's one of the most unpleasant and anti-erotic trends I have seen. There is a reason old ugly vampires are portrayed with such nails in horror movies. I am an avid horror fan; however, horror is not the feeling you want to inspire when you caress a person. And how on earth do you manage not to put your eyes out by accident in your sleep? Do you sleep with oven mittens on?<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Animal print anything<br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD7yPqpd1FxzjVBBVmvlBUR51FfsiKpR5s97FrQe9h004004VjIWiLilYc2mR3kYwK5PTz-pZu7lhTy19h_8jYyaLjeggOXqcFypGh_cFtt3b3e_imqIr_tCZJ1LacuSJ83nHEi0Yl_FIrM2uhr_QJDwl7q9GBmgbHqee5QPSPtW4XYXCrjFM/s1366/Screenshot%202022-11-14%20at%2021-09-18%20%CE%A6%CF%8C%CF%81%CE%BC%CE%B1%20%CE%BC%CE%B5%20%CE%BB%CE%B5%CE%BF%CF%80%CE%AC%CF%81%20%CF%83%CF%87%CE%AD%CE%B4%CE%B9%CE%BF.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="1366" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD7yPqpd1FxzjVBBVmvlBUR51FfsiKpR5s97FrQe9h004004VjIWiLilYc2mR3kYwK5PTz-pZu7lhTy19h_8jYyaLjeggOXqcFypGh_cFtt3b3e_imqIr_tCZJ1LacuSJ83nHEi0Yl_FIrM2uhr_QJDwl7q9GBmgbHqee5QPSPtW4XYXCrjFM/w475-h208/Screenshot%202022-11-14%20at%2021-09-18%20%CE%A6%CF%8C%CF%81%CE%BC%CE%B1%20%CE%BC%CE%B5%20%CE%BB%CE%B5%CE%BF%CF%80%CE%AC%CF%81%20%CF%83%CF%87%CE%AD%CE%B4%CE%B9%CE%BF.png" width="475" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">How many times have you seen members of the old European aristocracy, or politicians, or bankers wearing animal print anything? Do you really think it's because they haven't discovered it yet? (Spoiler: No, that's not the reason.)<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">I think that's enough for today, as I feel exhausted. Needless to say, opinions are my own. Feel free to disagree and wear whatever you like, however it works for you. Life is too small for uniformity. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>(As per usual, if you'd like to support this grumpy old cat, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy her a coffee.</a>)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div><p></p></div>indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-79226747469244680272021-12-16T01:19:00.006+02:002021-12-16T03:07:25.800+02:00The best Christmas gift is to help someone in need<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MN7QhuxdIaI" width="320" youtube-src-id="MN7QhuxdIaI"></iframe></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Arnoldo Lopez Contreras was labor trafficked in San Francisco, then
seriously injured on a job, and has been struggling to get back on his
feet ever since. Because of the prohibitively high rents in the Bay
Area, Arnoldo has been living in his truck for several years.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">On August 2, 2021, Arnoldo's truck was stolen in Oakland. Thieves
took his transportation and his home. They got all his personal
belongings, $4000 worth of tools, and his newly won Green Card. They
took the small foothold he has been carving out for years, as he's been
working to gain stability and send money to his family.
</span>
</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Arnoldo is working hard to regain what was lost, but it is
challenging to start back at square one. He's been working as a handyman
and painter, but he needs to replace his tools in order to work. He
needs a reliable truck. He needs a place to sleep.
</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Please help another person have Christmas. He can hardly believe that complete strangers would be kind enough to donate when he has been through so much. Let's show him that despite what he has been through, humans can still be kind. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anything you can spare, no matter how little, will make a difference. You can find more info and donate here: <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-a-labor-trafficking-survivor-stay-sheltered" target="">https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-a-labor-trafficking-survivor-stay-sheltered </a></span><br /></p>indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-7602092856865400672021-12-10T19:53:00.032+02:002021-12-12T16:54:09.586+02:00Listen carefully to your gut<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAc_xNXnmgB1mRrlL23Pagy0naumnjeI4QRoMtqEMkH_jLuH1ywhrCIEObf0rntKQiPSR5jy5zv327t8O660yGFH-m8BGAYRFTxQLY_xfMoEgQv7P_A98FVU53dzSFRgQi6D1g1w/s750/tumblr_9a2ec6e2927b85006ecf606dcb6ca214_38514b4c_500.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAc_xNXnmgB1mRrlL23Pagy0naumnjeI4QRoMtqEMkH_jLuH1ywhrCIEObf0rntKQiPSR5jy5zv327t8O660yGFH-m8BGAYRFTxQLY_xfMoEgQv7P_A98FVU53dzSFRgQi6D1g1w/w266-h400/tumblr_9a2ec6e2927b85006ecf606dcb6ca214_38514b4c_500.jpg" width="266" /></a></div> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Your body never lies to you. You should listen to it, especially if you want to follow a path related to magick or if you are an empath or psychic of any kind.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">If you're feeling stressed, or angry, your body is trying to give you a message. Whenever I feel angry, it's because someone is violating a boundary and entering my personal space uninvited. My mind may not be up to speed with what's happening. I may need to discuss with a friend to put my finger on the exact reason I feel mad and how that person is disrespecting me. It's not always obvious, but I know something is wrong. I know it because I'm irate. What my mind can't immediately locate under layers and layers of social conditioning, pretence, and polite coercion, my body understands just fine. The animal in me bares its teeth and wants to bite. I should listen to the message for my sake. Careful here: listening to the message does not mean acting on it. Feelings exist to give you feedback. They aren't there to tell you what to do. Impulsively acting on them is not going to take you to a better place.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">What if I'm wrong, you'll say. What if the person or situation is OK and I'm the one who has the problem?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Even that is a valid reason to back off. They may be safe, they may even be suitable. But if you are not feeling comfortable, then you're not ready. Not being ready is as valid a reason as they come. And if you're right about feeling uneasy, believe me, you don't want to find out </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">why </span>the hard way.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">A few nights ago I was out, doing my walking routine. I usually pass by an old building with a large garden. The garden fence is mostly non-existent. If I step into that garden, I find myself walking alongside the street. The street and the streetlights are no longer visible, because there are large bushes that act as a natural fence. I need to take thirty to forty steps in that garden before I find myself on the street again, exiting through a hole in the fence. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's usually quiet in there, and sometimes I take the detour because I want to feel the change in atmosphere. This building is very close to <a href="https://www.greece-is.com/a-walk-to-ymittos-where-the-mountain-meets-the-city/" target="_blank">Ymittos</a> mount, and even though it's next to other houses and in theory I am still in the city, the atmosphere is different than walking on the street. I don't take the detour every night; only when the mood strikes.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">So here I was, strolling without a care in the world, listening to <a href="https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgXoS9qWWDoXePNiY1RqrxdJFCw4N41dx" target="_blank">All About Eve</a>. I love that band, especially their sad songs, and I was in a good mood when I reached that place. I walked five steps in and realised I was terrified, though there was nothing there. I took one look at the way the light wind was making the tree-tops shake, another look at the darkness, and something inside me screamed, "get out, get out now, return to the light." </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">For a split second my mind attempted to barge in and convince me that everything was fine. You know: there is no reason to feel that way, there is no-one here, you should not act like a baby, blah de blah. Thankfully I'm way past the point I need to prove myself to anyone, myself included. I elbowed my mind in the nose, metaphorically speaking, turned on my heels, and I was outta there. I admit I breathed a huge sigh of relief as soon as I stepped back into the safety of the streetlight, and I kept looking behind my back until I had put some distance between me and that place.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now you're probably expecting some dramatic explanation, some proper justification for my behaviour. I am sorry if this is going to be anticlimactic. I don't have an explanation. I can say that the particular night was in the time-frame between the two eclipses. During eclipses various gates open, as eclipses are powerful astrological phenomena that release a lot of energy. Maybe something had stepped out of one such gate. What I do know for certain is that I am too old, and have had too many nasty etheric encounters in my life to shit in my pants just because the wind was blowing. I was spooked that night, I was downright terrified. I like darkness a lot, but that night, the wrong kind of darkness awaited in there. It was the hungry darkness that lurks in bad places</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> during the small hours</span>; the darkness that causes car accidents to happen, that makes normal people decide to bash their wife's head in because she said the wrong thing. That sort of darkness. And honestly, exorcism rituals </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">are a lot of work. It's just plain stupid to have to go through one </span>because you carried something home with you. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">To sum this up, don't ignore your own body screaming something at you. Feeling like an idiot for being spooked without a reason is a hundred times better than going through damage control because something bad happened. And some bad things cannot be undone, so please be vigilant. These are strange times.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hope the new year will be better. Take good care everyone.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span>(As per usual, if you'd like to support this scaredy old cat, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy her a coffee.</a>)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></div>indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-85435997995778587822021-06-21T00:33:00.010+03:002021-06-22T01:05:05.550+03:00The unprepared runner<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0yzTsHLhrd1ANGMBQxvnbnlGqljxn_r508Ym8ICgVPYsyAThXFx2KwFk0i85rGrGssVJEFj-5zf9x4ZA8tR678ZZq7ZXPg_V0Q-WvUDX5lZvkTurVTXwf04PhQ9Qmmwhl2RMMA/s958/79220114_2402381096650140_3087056929965473792_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The effect I was aiming for..." border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="958" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0yzTsHLhrd1ANGMBQxvnbnlGqljxn_r508Ym8ICgVPYsyAThXFx2KwFk0i85rGrGssVJEFj-5zf9x4ZA8tR678ZZq7ZXPg_V0Q-WvUDX5lZvkTurVTXwf04PhQ9Qmmwhl2RMMA/w400-h251/79220114_2402381096650140_3087056929965473792_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roughly the effect I was aiming for...</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The following incident happened a while ago. I finished work, took the bus, got off and went to the supermarket. I said the same thing I always say: I need </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">just </span>a couple of things. I don't know if there are people who walk into a supermarket and indeed get out with "just a couple of things". Maybe there are. I'm not saying it's as improbable as spotting fairies or dragons. I, however, am not one of them.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">So I get out of the supermarket with my backpack bursting at the seams. I have no use for the average feminine bag; if I could carry with me a military backpack (or three), I would. In the one hand I have a chocolate milk with a straw, in the other hand another bag with what didn't fit in my backpack. I say to myself, no way you'll walk a kilometer carrying so much weight. You'll get the bus. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">I start walking towards the bus stop. It's at a distance. I take sips of my choco milk and walk, not a care in the world. Then I turn and glance behind me and realise the bus is at the traffic lights. Shit!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">I start running and develop a good speed. Great, I say to myself, you'll manage to get to the stop before the bus. At the same time I feel that my trousers have begun sliding down, and my smile vanishes. I start opening my stride as much as possible, to stop the damn trousers from slipping further down. I probably look like a chubby pelican doing ballet leaps, with my legs stretched to the max trying to stop the inevitable. Just before my butt is fully revealed, I stop and place the milk on my right hand, the one that carries the bag with the groceries. I put the index finger of my left hand around one of the belt loops of my trousers to keep them in place, and resume running. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thankfully the bus driver saw this grown, mature woman keeping her pants in place with one hand and carrying what looked like a week's worth of provisions for the Mongolian army in the other and he took pity on me. He stopped before the bus stop and let me onboard. Thank you, Mr driver.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">I probably don't need to refer to the fact there was a bus stop just outside the supermarket, in a small street nearby, and I discovered it months </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">after </span>that incident. Do I?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <span><span><span><span><span>(As per usual, if you'd like to support this lunatic, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy her a coffee.</a>)</span></span></span></span></span></span> <br /></span></p>indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-32034507896313489152021-01-25T01:50:00.011+02:002021-01-25T18:24:23.615+02:00Four of Swords: Forced Rest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="326" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FPKgk5_YmpA" width="392" youtube-src-id="FPKgk5_YmpA"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">And so I'm reading. I'm re-reading bits of my saga, which I wrote in 1999 and 2000. Yellowed pages that smell good, and have water stains on them. The ink I used to write has been smeared and erased in places, and my writing style, twenty years and thousands of pages later, seems too descriptive and overly emotional. But there are parts of me in them that shine effortlessly even now. It makes me happy and sad in equal parts. When I'm looking for a comforting place to hide in and recuperate I hide in there. In the world I brought here in bits and pieces that have never been connected in one, larger body.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm tired. Nothing new. Trying to push on, trying to keep walking. I'm terrified of stopping. In this world we live in, where dog eats dog, humans fight over nothing and find nothing to unite them, I am terrified of stopping. I'm chased by a battalion of anger and sadness, people, circumstances, unfinished jobs, unattainable dreams, frustration and tiredness. I need to find a safe place to rest, to put down my burden and sleep. I'm starting to think I'll sleep when I die. I've been chased by Gods, demons and mortals for almost forty three years now. I get bitten a lot, and before the wounds are healed I get new ones. I'm a goddamn geological formation of scabs. I don't even stop to think about it; anyone who gets too close on the other level gets incinerated. The only problem is you can't kill real, actual people without going to jail. Ha ha ha.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm tired. I need to rest. I need to hide and live the rest of my life invisible. It's impossible, of course. No matter where I go, they'll find me. I stink. My being is inhabited by my soul, and my soul stinks to them. That small pulse inside called soul colours my entire existence, skin and bone and blood, and it smells of the Other Side. It smells like understanding and forgiveness, taking care of every life from the smaller to the biggest, protecting the weak ones and the different ones and using resources to promote well-being, health and literacy, justice and medical care. It smells like safety and individuality and different families and fucking utopia. I stink of it. I stand out like a flower in an abattoir. And I can't help it. I am what I am, I can't change. I can't stop caring and wanting to protect the ones who can't protect themselves. I can't stop hating injustice, pettiness, vanity, racism, stupid mind-games, cruelty and hypocrisy. It's who I am. I know right from wrong. Loving, evolving, moving on is right. That's what I want for me and everyone else. And those who don't want it, well, I just wish to stay away from them. I don't want to change them, or educate them, or make them change their minds. I can't change them anyway, it's futile. Just want to keep my distance.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">This world hates my guts, and I suffocate in it. It will pass. I'll push on. Time is always on my heels, biting me like a hyena, trotting behind me to tire me until I collapse. It circles above me, a carrion bird. And I give him the finger. And I walk on.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I recently came across this poem that pretty much says it all. Enjoy. And <span><span><span><span><span>if you'd like to support me, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy me a coffee.</a></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><h1 class="headline">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">Pursuit, by Stephen Dobyns</span>
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<div class="byline"><time class="published-date" datetime="1997-10-05T07:00:00.000Z"></time></div>
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<div class="rich-text-article-body-content rich-text-body"><p><span style="font-size: large;">Each thing I do I rush through so I can do</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">something else. In such a way do the days pass--</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">a blend of stock cars racing and the never</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">ending building of a gothic cathedral.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;">Through the windows of my speeding car, I see</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">all that I love falling away: books unread,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">jokes untold, landscapes unvisited. And why?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">What treasure do I expect in my future?</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;">Rather it is the confusion of childhood</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">loping behind me, the chaos in the mind,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">the failure chipping away at each success.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Glancing over my shoulder I see its shape</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;">and so move forward, as someone in the woods</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">at night might hear the sound of approaching feet</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">and stop to listen; then, instead of silence</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">he hears some creature trying to be silent.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;">What else can he do but run? Rushing blindly</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">down the path, stumbling, struck in the face by sticks;</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">the other ever closer, yet not really</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">hurrying or out of breath, teasing its kill.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;"><i> From “Cemetery Nights” by Stephen Dobyns (Penguin Books: 100 pp., $14.95) Copyright 1997 Reprinted by permission.</i></span></p></div>
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<p><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1997-oct-05-bk-39339-story.html" target="_blank">Taken from here.</a></span><br /></p>indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-88611705087778168952020-09-04T02:43:00.002+03:002022-12-04T03:36:34.597+02:00Atonement<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/COIn7OWW3ac" width="320" youtube-src-id="COIn7OWW3ac"></iframe></div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/EmiThePoet/posts/10220363920840128" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">"...And it is the people most capable of forgiveness that are the only ones made to atone."</span></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/EmiThePoet/posts/10220363920840128?__cft__[0]=AZV9rTyS9j8BH2RP7_ZzKS0B-iH8HyMiss-_Jo5IQYtTjQruYPeBvneeQWHXq1Y6HwuH0Vse7M3QE-TAu4Y8ccRte7TpMrIqZxUU2GNKFbIV2JenOyre2XB9E_OdFmka-5OqYCBGqdPVLp-uVyRFc9A3KmTzJzXSzWMOsgqOx4O5kLlB_ifLr85sb5WzQ0R15Qc&__tn__=%2CO%2CP-R" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Emi Mahmoud</span></a></p>indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-16957366815151199822020-06-07T19:41:00.005+03:002020-06-08T03:59:33.816+03:00Things are definitely looking up!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5KkRydQv2Wwe2X-l1TWdzAXzCjlN7TLgTUex3oqQ5aZoe8jz6LngZoxGLl9_24pLnK-ShQH2QDSlNpQABlF4SzxGVozsshqFNiSRTbRXSsLdi6Kzb5hH44-TZs1H3AyXbXN5YrQ/s1600/r_1789088_zBC3v.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="480" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5KkRydQv2Wwe2X-l1TWdzAXzCjlN7TLgTUex3oqQ5aZoe8jz6LngZoxGLl9_24pLnK-ShQH2QDSlNpQABlF4SzxGVozsshqFNiSRTbRXSsLdi6Kzb5hH44-TZs1H3AyXbXN5YrQ/s400/r_1789088_zBC3v.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We're in 2030.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Greek refugee problem has been solved. Not because the wars ended or Europe opened its borders or anything. The entire Greece sank into the ocean after a colossal earthquake that stopped exactly at the country's borders. Rumor says it was courtesy of the legendary bad luck of the family of Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis. Now the remaining Greeks are someone else's refugee problem, and they don't like it. In response to their constant complaining, they are reminded that they were the ones who voted for him, and besides, they still owe money to the European Union, even though it does not exist anymore. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The corona virus returns every September, just as swallows migrate to Africa, and goes away in April, when swallows return. The biggest companies in the world are the ones producing toilet paper. They have bought Amazon, Google, Twitter, and launched an app that finds your ideal mate comparing toilet paper preferences. Parties where you go dressed in nothing but toilet paper and a surgical mask are a thing. There are also new revolutionary masks that can double as panty liners, swimming suits, camping tents, nuclear bunkers and spaceships. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is a heated public discussion that has been going on for a decade, whether the numbers of medical personnel are adequate or the governments should hire more people. Unbeknownst to politicians, all the medical personnel died during the first corona outbreak. They turned into mutant zombies that still frantically treat patients because they are so busy they have not realised they are, in fact, themselves dead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The icecaps melted. Most cities are partly or fully underwater. A lot of babies are born with webbed hands and toes. Trump has been elected yet again, and claims it is all fake news and that the communists are behind it. Communists, on the other hand, are too busy learning to swim and forage underwater.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The British politicians haven't noticed any of these things as they are in an ongoing Brexit phase. The Queen is still alive and makes public announcements about how unhappy she is she outlived everyone of her relatives and generally, everyone she's ever known. In her free time, she commands the armies of the undead, including the medical personnel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Remember the girl or guy you liked? The one you were bananas for, and hoped that they would eventually see the light and break up with their icky significant other? Well, good news is, they finally saw the light and you are in a relationship with them! Problem being, one of you has erectile dysfunction and the other is in menopause, which means you mostly spend time on the couch watching pre-disaster movies, eating unhealthy shit and farting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The author of this entry is dead/ does not exist/ was sucked into the black hole of Greek economy and never returned. Do not try to find her. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">If, however, you'd like to support a dead person, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy her a coffee.</a></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-55175701785111518642020-05-17T21:56:00.001+03:002020-11-19T00:23:48.651+02:00Dumpster diving and other unpopular choices<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpq3jYKiJcTNP8yGKeyYZ85ATltcwsBuO7jITSFZY9E3UxBH9ZDbp05P_Rsr6CO6Hvy4Q9QnaNo55EUGgAIAUa9lYcYLjGC586GQUD5YquA5awtlkeDkg_3WNWvG2K7pJ7nFnurg/s1600/IMG_6507-1024x1024.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpq3jYKiJcTNP8yGKeyYZ85ATltcwsBuO7jITSFZY9E3UxBH9ZDbp05P_Rsr6CO6Hvy4Q9QnaNo55EUGgAIAUa9lYcYLjGC586GQUD5YquA5awtlkeDkg_3WNWvG2K7pJ7nFnurg/s400/IMG_6507-1024x1024.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So here is an interesting fact about me: I dumpster dive. My specialty is books. I also salvage clothes, toys, anything that still works. I don't understand why people throw away what can be donated to charity, passed on, or simply left on the street to be taken by someone who wants it. You have something you don't want? Take it to the bus stop or to a park and leave it there. It will be claimed sooner than later, and someone else will use it. Why throw it away and not give it a second life? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Other than saving what I can from dumpsters, I collect stamps, books and plastic caps for charity, pass books on via <a href="http://bookmooch.com/" target="_blank">bookmooch,</a> and try to help in many little ways. For example, I no longer buy plastic pens (I use fountain pens for writing) and don't buy lighters. I use matches instead. I reuse every bit of packaging material I can get my hands on, since I regularly post things abroad. I switched from panty liners to a <a href="https://rubycup.com/" target="_blank">Ruby Cup</a>, etc. There are so many things one can do if they care enough to bother. They can also <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/devinthorpe/2018/09/24/kiva-is-really-a-crowdfunded-bank-for-refugees-and-other-unbankables/#22284693220a" target="_blank">donate to a charity of their choice</a>, support a small business instead of a large one, <a href="http://indigojester.blogspot.com/2016/05/random-acts-of-vileness.html" target="_blank">not be assholes</a>... The list is endless. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">People think they are weak and have no power in their hands, and that governments are in charge of their lives. Too often they expect someone else to take responsibility and lead them. They don't realise that the goods and services they buy are the greatest tool of pressure, and their waste has a global effect. When you buy a new smartphone every six months while you don't really need it, that is a choice, and it affects the entire world. From the obvious way of choosing how to spend your money, supporting a brand and its policies, to the not so obvious of expecting a material item to make you happy and give you identity, indirectly perpetuating such situations as <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2018/oct/12/phone-misery-children-congo-cobalt-mines-drc" target="_blank">child labour for the necessary cobalt</a>, creating toxic waste and making landfills even fuller. The way you spend your money is a statement. The garbage you produce is a statement. What you buy creates demand and demand creates offer. No demand, or different demand, means in turn different offers. And there is no greater way to teach than setting an example by the way you live.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzMJXFBuvMCOfAu9cNpTq7XX7OjQSBk21-dJmrDxdMK4InJrPCxIiz9jTeF-FKUhBAOB62wq6TvMoplgr7ntD6ZXP9IsxpQ4AhhYp27zs_CXKCl-f1_aiyhCABLOGbQxvJy58yQ/s720/126329374_209384213886561_6117328925745030128_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="720" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzMJXFBuvMCOfAu9cNpTq7XX7OjQSBk21-dJmrDxdMK4InJrPCxIiz9jTeF-FKUhBAOB62wq6TvMoplgr7ntD6ZXP9IsxpQ4AhhYp27zs_CXKCl-f1_aiyhCABLOGbQxvJy58yQ/w400-h331/126329374_209384213886561_6117328925745030128_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next time you're in the supermarket, please remember that each choice you make gives feedback to the companies about your needs and priorities, and that in turn creates demand. Why not try to create a different type of demand? For example, are you really going to eat that? No? Then don't buy it. Does it have to be wrapped in 3 different types of plastic? Does it have to come all the way from Peru? That one is a plastic spoon, which means it will still be around when you are long gone. Maybe you can make another choice? And so on, and so forth. It's a matter of changing habits. Not much else. Since collective habits brought us to where we are now, different habits will take us to a different place. Why not give it a try, see how that feels? And please don't get disappointed by small failures and relapses. Just keep going. The whole world (and this is not an exaggeration) needs that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">(If you'd like to support me, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy me a coffee.)</a></span></span></span></span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Some reading resources:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/guides/year-of-living-better/how-to-reduce-your-carbon-footprint" target="_blank">How to Reduce Your Carbon Footprint</a></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://zwia.org/educational-resources/" target="_blank">Zero Waste</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://www.kiva.org/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Kiva Loans</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://theconversation.com/ordering-the-vegetarian-meal-theres-more-animal-blood-on-your-hands-4659" target="_blank">Ordering the vegetarian meal? There is more animal blood on your hands</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://markmanson.net/minimalism" target="_blank">Minimalism</a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://markmanson.net/stupid-things" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Stupid Things </span></a></div>
</div>
indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-55119676656636486222019-12-10T01:01:00.001+02:002020-04-05T16:42:14.942+03:00Fleeting or fleeing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7AeHPJSHtns" width="560"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tonight I miss you again. This song reminded me of you, and how you once grabbed a shotgun to save lives, including your own.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Grief is a strange animal. It resembles an old injury. You think you have healed and then the weather changes, or you make a sudden move, and your body reminds you of the exact places it had been broken. It's the same deal with grief. You think the worst part has passed, and then you see or hear something and sadness pours out with such fierce intensity that startles you.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The funny thing is that lately I am content. I am tired, sure, and vulnerable, and everything is far from perfect. It doesn't stop me from being content. This contentment is not apathy. It embodies a quiet sense of being in the present moment. It has sadness and curiosity and hope and my sense of humour and a generous amount of disbelief for the stupidity of mankind. You can be content and hopeful and sad and dog-tired at the same time. It's not the same as being joyful, or happy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I recently noticed that the blog is a breath away from 100.000 pageviews. Well, as blogs go, it's old. It turned 14 years old in October. I don't write here as often as I'd like, and have no idea who reads it. To be honest, I don't know why anyone would read it as it is so personal, and sometimes repetitive. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I get no income from it and I don't get contacted by my readers. I never have comments. In a way, it reminds me of a person posting letters to themselves. </span>I write here because I have to, just like I grieve and laugh and eat and sleep because I have to. And it seems to me that is reason enough. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Take good care of yourself tonight and every night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Don't be someone's reason for grief if you can help it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Good night my dears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Good night my darling. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I miss you very much. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">(If you'd like to support me, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy me a coffee.)</a></span> </span></div>
</div>
indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-57873563438782370632019-10-27T23:13:00.001+02:002021-04-24T02:43:04.674+03:00Bookhopping<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have been feeling weird for the past week; dizzy, weak, disoriented. My sleep hasn't been good either. It's nothing new. From time to time I find myself feeling ill for no reason. After forty one years on this earth, I've come to realise that being psychic to some degree is similar to having a chronic illness. I do not mean to make light of the daily struggle of people suffering from a chronic illness. They alone know what they have to deal with and the dehumanising effect of chronic pain. Under no circumstances would I say I face even a portion of the challenges they do. However, there are similarities. For example:</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">During the day, I may find myself feeling ill, or drained and exhausted, for no apparent reason.</span></li>
</ul>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">My sleep is often awful. Not always, and not always in the same way, but getting a good night's sleep is way more challenging for me than it is for the average person.</span></li>
</ul>
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<ul>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">This one is thankfully rare: I wake up to find that the world is spinning round and round, though I am perfectly still. If I try to move, even in the slightest, I am apt to vomit. Everything hurts and I feel wrecked. I don't drink alcohol, ever, so I don't want to hear smart comments about a hangover. This happens to me infrequently, usually every few years. When it does, I am rendered useless for that day. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Interacting with the wrong people is a one way ticket to hell.</span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
</ul>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I can't touch, hug, or have sex with random people. Hell, I can't even dress up, put on make-up and go out without returning home feeling sick. It's fun, you should definitely try it. Not.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday was one of those fun days. After a bout of the merry go round effect (it happened on Tuesday), on Saturday I started feeling unwell. It got progressively worse. Headache, muscle pains, disorientation. I went to bed early and also took a painkiller. It didn't help much. I spent the biggest part of the night tossing, unable to find a comfortable position to sleep. Then I started shivering. I had to get an extra blanket. Then I started sweating. I had to keep just one blanket in order to stop sweating. I ached everywhere, and woke up feeling exhausted. I still feel exhausted and my body aches. Hopefully by tomorrow I'll be better. I am grateful for the fact I don't have to work on Monday because it is a national holiday. I would have been the equivalent of the queen of zombies working as a secretary.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't begin this entry to air my woes. I wanted to refer to my bookhopping. Bookhopping is like barhopping, only with books, and for different reasons than locating a place with lots of excitement. Let's say you read a book, and the protagonist is about to break up. Being emotionally drained, you decide you can't handle it, so you hop to another book. You read that other book, only to discover that the heroes are facing a difficult challenge. Can you handle it? The answer is no. So you hop to yet another book like a frog that's chased by an army of hungry snakes. Gee, maybe I should start reading books for first graders about butterflies and shit. Maybe I should stop reading in general and start, dunno, knitting. What are the chances of abandoning a scarf because I am emotionally vulnerable?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Other than that, I am alive and well. I read two very interesting articles I would like to share with you. They both touch on how language and repetition/ stereotypes define and program our beliefs.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Update in 2021: unfortunately the first article does not exist anymore.) </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://leftbrainedhippie.com/2017/02/25/8-words/" target="_blank">http://leftbrainedhippie.com/2017/02/25/8-words/</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://markmanson.net/negative-self-help" target="_blank">https://markmanson.net/negative-self-help</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I would like to close this entry with this photo. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXNrYviVmetKqdipmcC3Kk8yLzsMc0_XZdPYvG5Cu_iIA1Qwd2K7_xj-HQmf8GvKwrvX10SWUOSEflxnZfhXgy8z6wQJIM2EcfH4ToQOhJFtBGPyACLEgW3r9oS4NjzNmHVqCwQ/s1600/73019669_2398455680393157_7544743009049378816_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="774" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXNrYviVmetKqdipmcC3Kk8yLzsMc0_XZdPYvG5Cu_iIA1Qwd2K7_xj-HQmf8GvKwrvX10SWUOSEflxnZfhXgy8z6wQJIM2EcfH4ToQOhJFtBGPyACLEgW3r9oS4NjzNmHVqCwQ/s400/73019669_2398455680393157_7544743009049378816_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She was found shot seventeen times, with one ear cut off, blind, pregnant and with a broken jaw. She survived, got adopted and now she is a therapy dog. Look at her. She is the living example of not letting your pain define who you are, but turn every bit of pain you've been through into solid gold. I mean LOOK at her. And maybe, just maybe, next time you face a challenge, instead of "I can't do this", say, "I'll give it a go." Just give it a go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> As per usual, if you'd like to support me, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy me a coffee.</a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">More info on the dog here: </span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.ladbible.com/news/animals-pregnant-dog-shot-17-times-has-qualified-as-a-therapy-dog-20190713" target="_blank">https://www.ladbible.com/news/animals-pregnant-dog-shot-17-times-has-qualified-as-a-therapy-dog-20190713</a></span></div>
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indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-69744828396372352992019-07-29T02:27:00.013+03:002023-05-29T05:35:01.453+03:00Storming paradise<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RN7OYhkFcyE" width="560"></iframe></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"From this flesh my spirit longs to break away. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Did you ever feel this cosmic circumstance was never enough? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Wake me slowly if ever at all. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Wake me slowly or watch me fall."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I do long to break free from my flesh tonight. Only I don't want to die. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Desire makes me weak, it makes me crawl, yet dignity wins every single time. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I still need to find the one who won't force me to choose.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have to keep on fighting though I can barely stand.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's OK though. I'm used to watching my world burn.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am slowly regaining my hope, not because the situation is improving. Because it was mine and you took it away.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The rest will take care of itself, fuck you very much.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Desire will pass. It always passes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hey, even life will pass, let alone desire. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I wish I could take a single drop of my longing and put it in a glass.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then watch the unlucky person who drank it go mad.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You obviously knew what you did when you gave that much yearning to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You knew I could host it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Not sure who else can take it even by association, and not go insane.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Long ago, there was someone who could take it, and he used it to create worlds with me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He is not here now, but watches over me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And late at night I find myself imploring him.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Show me the one who can take it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Show me the one who'll manage not to be consumed and pushed into madness</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">but will use my love as a key to unlock paradise.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We'll take paradise by force, true Sons and Daughters of Lucifer</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and our love will burn so brightly that angels will cover their eyes."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I do long to break free from my flesh tonight. Only I don't want to die. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Desire makes me weak, it makes me crawl, yet dignity wins every single time. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Until the night I won't have to choose.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">(If you'd like to support me, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy me a coffee.)</a> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/S-_ad14mJI4" width="560"></iframe><br /></span></div>
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indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-33668616568216030752019-07-04T01:27:00.003+03:002019-07-29T15:51:45.807+03:00The game of life and death<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EweRekkIZ9M" width="560"></iframe><br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes I wonder why this world is as fucked up as it is. It is pointless wondering, I'm well aware of it. And yet I wonder. I can't help it. I am by nature made to improve things, systems, myself. I am both good at it and enjoy it; the visionary who's walking with her head in the clouds and her two feet firmly on the ground. The questions usually are, does it work? Is it an improvement? Does it hurt anyone?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I think the basic problem of this world is our inability to communicate our experience. We live isolated in our heads, thinking our reality and experience is the only valid one. The result is pain, loneliness, fear. We can't see others as another version of ourselves. We can only focus on our differences, not our similarities. We see enemies where there is no enemy.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Art is the only way I have discovered to bridge the distance between one human experience and another, one human being and another. Art and love creating connections that surpass everything, distance, even time. Art is a child of love anyway, inflaming our hearts and minds with the closest there is to experiencing divinity. And love both flourishes on kindness and creates more kindness.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wish I could take every human being by the hand and strip them of fears, and silly pride, and anger, and regret, and naked and vulnerable take them to the place inside where no armour is needed. To that one place where they are safe, and accepted for everything they are, and the only entrance rule is to let go of control, stop struggling. I can't do that any more than I can give eyes and ears to a stone. Each person has to find that place for themselves. It's not found in a church, or a holy place, or another dimension. You don't have to cross the sea or climb a mountain. You have to reach inside, to touch the unblemished part of you that everyone has. The part that knows it's all good, and there is nothing to forgive, and you are safe. You have always been safe because you are pure energy, you are stardust dreaming of falling in love, and to do that you need a body. That is all. You have always been perfectly safe and every transgression, imaginable and real, every slight and trespass is forgiven because it was a dream. You are stardust dreaming, and for a single moment in time, believing it. Believing it so much that it was real. There was no true separation, no real otherness, no alienation; just a part of the whole relishing its uniqueness before merging again, before becoming energy and love. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wish I could make you see that. But </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">in order to let go of control, to stop struggling, </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">you have </span></span>to love yourself first. And only you can do that. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> (If you'd like to support me, <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please buy me a coffee.)</a></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/zY6fTKEh9m4" width="560"></iframe> </span></div>
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indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-6304534551479219952019-04-02T01:42:00.002+03:002021-04-24T01:32:35.749+03:00Indigo jester<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-ouh4Dhk8g8" width="560"></iframe></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Take a person made </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">by their very nature </span>to hope and merge, and teach them</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">by tribulation after tribulation,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">by one death after the other, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">by killing their hope,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">by crushing their dreams.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Teach them by branding them day by day</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">with the red hot iron of disappointment</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">that understanding is an illusion,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">that there is no peace, except for the one they grant themselves,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and that there's no escape, nor any destination.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Keep doing that for four decades.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Do you know what you get?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The worst kind of holy warrior someone could have unleashed upon your sorry ass,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">the kind of witch priestess who will spit her soul out before she yields, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">a jack of all trades killing with tales, her eyes dripping poison and tears in equal parts.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Me and my army of cats, dead and alive, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">are still debating the wisdom of your tactics.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">(If you enjoy my content and want to show your support, please <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">buy me a coffee</a>. Thank you.)</span></span></div>
</div>
indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-20024196830030503252019-02-09T01:17:00.002+02:002019-12-10T16:00:16.508+02:00Winter nights<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/s3imoMiiVvc" width="560"></iframe> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Some winter nights are tranquil. Masses of clouds travel fast in the sky and the cold is not unbearable. I stare at the moon and distant stars and try to decipher the meaning of their shapes, the hidden stories in the shadows.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Some nights I am happy. Other nights, the pain spills out and covers my skin with goosebumps. I listen to music and remember dead friends and dead pets. I try to wrap myself in the comfort of music and imagine the notes as an ethereal embrace, the ghost arms of those who once loved me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm tired. Two nights ago I re-watched a short film I had made with a friend. He needed to make a short film as a dissertation, and I found myself starring in it. I thought the DVD was lost. Recently I found it again.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Watching my much younger self in the film I experienced an overwhelming wave of sadness. She had no idea what life had in store for her and I wished I could hide her in my embrace and tell her to be strong, because she is someone I love, appreciate and admire more with each passing year. But we can only travel forward one second at a time, and so I watched her and shook my head. If she knew what her life would be like for the next fifteen years, maybe I wouldn't be here now, writing this blog entry. Maybe she would have thrown in the towel and stepped off that building </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">eleven or twelve years ago </span>like she planned. I don't know what kept her going. Hope? Stubbornness? Anger? Whatever it was, I am glad it served to keep her here. I've seen what suicide does to those on its ground zero. It's not pretty.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm trying to develop a strong inner core so that the outside doesn't rule my inside. It's very hard.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wonder what you saw in me all those years ago, my dear Virve, and decided to make me part of your family. We never did meet, but the fact you considered me trustworthy enough to confide in me is the greatest praise I can think of.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am tired, love. Tired of this life that it seems to run in two modes. One is the crippling routine mode, the second is the kick in the teeth mode. I keep pushing my hand inside, and like a blind person, I fumble about inside my inner darkness until I pull out wonders. I sink my hand inside the river of Lethe to pull out the salmon of Wisdom. I push my fingers into my wounds to study the nature of my despair, the taste of my blood, the root of fear inside me. Then I share my discoveries here. I know most won't understand, and that's okay. The soul's journey cannot be shared. But even if one person understands, that's enough. And you did understand.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I miss you tonight. You, and all my dead pets, and the father I never had, and the innocence I cannot regain.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I miss you. But maybe the music I listen to is the embrace you never gave me in flesh and blood. Now your ashes travel the world, and I'm here, writing and remembering.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for believing in me when I didn't. I still draw strength from it. I appreciate everything you ever did. I wish you were here so I could say it to you, but maybe you know. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When I kiss the stars good-night, I kiss you too. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">(If you enjoy my content and want to show your support, please <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">buy me a coffee</a>. Thank you.)</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DNceqb81wF0" width="560"></iframe> </span></div>
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indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-14944999837536772282019-01-22T02:06:00.002+02:002019-01-22T02:08:26.403+02:00The reason this blog exists<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div style="height: 0; padding-bottom: 56.25%; position: relative;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" scrolling="no" src="https://embed.ted.com/talks/susan_david_the_gift_and_power_of_emotional_courage" style="height: 100%; left: 0; position: absolute; top: 0; width: 100%;" width="854"></iframe></div>
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<br /></div>
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indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-54618944605245351392019-01-12T00:55:00.000+02:002019-01-13T00:29:01.793+02:002019<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtsJOSa7b3TKrfThflqiaeqJaODA6tmstD5F3Zv77Q2qbKFZVKEHZh_8p5OxBx742Usl5xADA4lRhTCOmpkXJRxNni-3qb1ePEUm8_-AR1JAWU1Hkc0530nWUJ0pKrCT3GXO0Sw/s1600/ganesh-vector-4095253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtsJOSa7b3TKrfThflqiaeqJaODA6tmstD5F3Zv77Q2qbKFZVKEHZh_8p5OxBx742Usl5xADA4lRhTCOmpkXJRxNni-3qb1ePEUm8_-AR1JAWU1Hkc0530nWUJ0pKrCT3GXO0Sw/s400/ganesh-vector-4095253.jpg" width="370" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Remembering my dead pets tonight. I wonder what kind of masochism urges us to adopt, when it only means we're going to have our heart broken repeatedly. I miss my little darlings and feel indebted for the way they enriched my life, even if it wasn't for long.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am writing again. There are more than a few hiccups along the way, and I am not always certain if anything can be achieved, but my stories are important to me. I am not sure what can be achieved by writing here either and yet I am. I don't even know who's reading this or if anyone is reading this and what they think about it. It doesn't really matter.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am walking with one foot here, one foot there. One foot in the world of reason and results, one foot in the world of the unconscious and inner understanding. Every now and then I stop and measure my progress. The progress I make becomes evident only through the increased feeling of well-being inside; it does not change my conditions</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> much</span>. Even that is good. I am in a better place than I used to be, and hopefully it will improve further.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am learning to ask for things I want.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am also learning to voice my displeasure.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There is someone I like. I am rather terrified by the fact. I am also pretty certain it will not take me to a better place; just disappoint and hurt me. It already looks that way. In the past I would have run away at maximum speed; right now I am trying to not kill it before it even starts. You see, I am exceptional at it killing them before they draw their first breath, before they hurt me. In the end, I don't know what's worse; a life of comfortable numbness or being consumed by your own feelings. So I am trying to break my patterns before they turn into my life, and will take it one step at a time.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">2018 wasn't good. Here's to 2019.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Happy new year.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">(If you enjoy my content, please consider <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">supporting what I do</a>. Thank you.)</span></span></div>
</div>
indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-74337613007452861542018-11-24T19:48:00.004+02:002019-01-04T20:20:21.898+02:00They cannot stop you unless you stop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/qOMQxVtbkik/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qOMQxVtbkik?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That's what I keep telling myself. Again, and again.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">They cannot stop me unless I stop.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">They can't stop me unless I give up. If I give up, they have succeeded. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">They are idiots, because I can't really stop. It's not a choice. Asking me to stop breathing would have been easier.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I can't stop seeing. I can't stop writing. I can't stop understanding. It's the way I am wired. The same brain that discerns patterns and responds to specific kinds of music is the mind that has hosted freaks and monsters and wonders for as long as it exists. Yes, conditioning plays a part, but there is genetic predisposition and there is also something called soul. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I follow in the footsteps of Hecate, gathering freaks and lost souls from the crossroads of life, gathering the weird ones around me. Strength in numbers, because everyone and everything is against us. Against decency, humanity, understanding, common sense, dignity, hope. This is war, and it has been going on for as long as humanity exists, and it has never been better or worse. There are periods of remission and periods where the struggle is violent and visible. The struggle never stops, and it is inside as much as outside because this is the way of life. As above, so below, within and without.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Right now in Ohio men in power want to completely abolish abortion and jail women on the mere suspicion.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In countless countries being gay still gets you the death penalty.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Trafficking is worse than ever. Wars have provided the jaws of the Machine with an endless supply of fresh meat.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The entire world stumbles towards blind, mindless, bloody chaos, and I put one foot in front of the other even if I have to clench my teeth to do it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">They cannot stop you unless you stop. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Ο μόνος τρόπος να σε σταματήσουν είναι να σταματήσεις.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Keep moving. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Don't let them silence you.</span> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There are truths that aren't negotiable.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Keep going. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">(If you enjoy my content, please consider <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">supporting what I do</a>. Thank you.)</span></span> </span></div>
</div>
indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-54756588220927082822018-11-04T01:47:00.000+02:002018-11-24T19:49:31.685+02:00I do it better than Daenerys<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/xmVzeriU5m0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xmVzeriU5m0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I have been dragging my feet, feeling sorry for myself.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Working in a job I hate does not help. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The tide floods me inside, red as my anger, pure wrath.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It withdraws and I am drowning in the mire of depression.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Anger, depression, anger, depression. A constant cycle.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It's completely useless and I know it. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The only thing that helps is music.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Elizabeth shitborn of the house of psychotic ass-clowns, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">the last of her line, the loquacious, the unkempt, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Queen of lost earrings and dead ends,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">breaker of mugs, mother of cats,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">rescuer of </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">paper clips</span> and </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">rubber bands</span>, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">redistributor of clothes and goods,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">devourer of cake, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">destroyer of mosquitoes, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">collector of cathairs and fountain pens. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm off to go fuck myself. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It should be fun.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">(If you enjoy my content, please consider <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">supporting what I do</a>. Thank you.)</span></span> </span></div>
</div>
indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-6340560288950209742018-08-08T00:02:00.000+03:002018-08-08T09:58:28.321+03:00Same old, same old<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9yguhnEFTaOMePiOwtjrE6m_c9HLEe9wXTI56BSB0USXM3RkgZw05RBpDzjm4kjFCj1VvaEJaKaN_6TJHWr9uQd5Icw8Fq6Yao7FSpRfLJ4RnL5M5CsTyTtAUyRcRNAVPINhew/s1600/DSCN1936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9yguhnEFTaOMePiOwtjrE6m_c9HLEe9wXTI56BSB0USXM3RkgZw05RBpDzjm4kjFCj1VvaEJaKaN_6TJHWr9uQd5Icw8Fq6Yao7FSpRfLJ4RnL5M5CsTyTtAUyRcRNAVPINhew/s400/DSCN1936.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Every fucking summer the same old. My blind tomboy died. I had found him last September, sick, blind, about a month old. I raised him, healed him, neutered him and turned him into a glorious five something kilo cat. He was striped, mostly black, silly, affectionate, smart, kind, and now he's gone. No reason, no explanation, just a few days of diarrhea that I tried (according to the vet's advice) to combat with very good quality, specialised food. One day he didn't wake up. And I'm fucking devastated, because I didn't expect it. My stomach feels as if I've swallowed a stone. I thought he'd grow old by my side and die when his time came. Not like that.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Everything tastes like ashes in my mouth, everything reminds me of him. I keep expecting him to show up and ask for treats. He had an excellent sense of smell, and whenever I was eating something tasty, he'd beg to be given a bit. I didn't find it in my heart to refuse him. I keep expecting to find him sprawled on my bed and wonder where he is, or see one of my two tortoise shells sleeping and for a moment I mistake them for him. Then I realise he's gone and my heart breaks. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And I wonder if my poor, poor, blind boy will find his way to where he's supposed to go now. He didn't have eyes, my beautiful boy, and who will hug him now, and show him around? Who will guide him to where he's supposed to go? Is he perhaps still here, and wondering why I don't hug him and pet him anymore? Will his friend Louse be waiting for him, to take him safely Home?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Fuck summer. Fuck eclipses. Fuck everything. I've had enough of this shit. I don't even want to eat chocolate. Whatever fucking ever. Just leave me alone.</span></div>
</div>
indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-28814755788597503882018-06-30T05:10:00.002+03:002018-08-10T02:01:35.716+03:00Blog maintenance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLJ3Uz9mZTmloPUaHncWLcbP2PrKNdwqgE5XHgq51nnfKE7abz3T7Kv28WLfoKI7YAnKpSxE_fOL5l8xC9e5xygTcdulKfSezEQZx3wN7PNBuhuQzHDWbvc9f10Alk4ISWly_qg/s1600/zombie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLJ3Uz9mZTmloPUaHncWLcbP2PrKNdwqgE5XHgq51nnfKE7abz3T7Kv28WLfoKI7YAnKpSxE_fOL5l8xC9e5xygTcdulKfSezEQZx3wN7PNBuhuQzHDWbvc9f10Alk4ISWly_qg/s400/zombie.jpg" width="362" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The blog is undergoing maintenance right now. This means my sorry butt is currently erasing excessive labels, adding labels to really old posts (2005, 2006, 2007... etc) in order to make them more accessible, re-adding videos into entries because the videos have been removed from youtube (or I didn't know how to add videos at that time...), adding/ changing pictures, correcting typos etc. It will take a while to be done with it. The blog will be better afterwards. It will still be massive (hey, it contains 13 years of writing!), yet more organised. Needless to say, I am not changing the content in any way. Please be patient if things are a little all over the place. It will look and function better when I am done. :) </span><br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">For those of you who don't know what I am talking about, scroll down and go to the section named 'Labels', under 'Popular posts', right hand side of the blog. If you click on a label, it will show you all entries I have ever written with the particular subject. I am not done yet; it will probably take a week or so. The amount of work needed is insane, so please give it a few days and check again. And as per usual, if you enjoy my content, please consider <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">supporting what I do</a>, so that there is more and better content! 😉</span><span style="font-size: large;"> Thank you. </span></div>
</div>
indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-44601722649577982072018-06-24T07:01:00.001+03:002018-07-17T15:25:13.324+03:00On paid blogging/ writing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I began this blog in 2005. There is a massive amount of work in it, and I always thought it should not be done for any other reason than to speak my (weird) mind. Consequently the idea of generating income from it never crossed my thoughts. Besides, when it began, it had zero hits. With the passing of time, this changed. Right now I have hundreds of pageviews for every new entry I upload. Still this translates to absolutely zero income.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know what you are thinking. Well, if it is art, it should come from the heart. Money has no place there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yeah. Except for the fact this heart resides inside a body, and the body in question needs food, clothes, electricity for the laptop, an internet provider and so on and so forth. After these needs have been covered, then the brain of the body in question can come up with some sort of content for this blog. Never mind what that content is. Since you are here reading this, I guess you are familiar with the fact my entries jump from one bonkers subject to the next like a frog on acid. Unless you are a newcomer, in which case I should warn you: you might not like the content of this blog. If you are racist, homophobic, sexist, narrow-minded etc., then you most certainly won't like it. You may even not be any of these things and still not like it, and that's fine. Just be warned this is one of the weird places on the internet, OK?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">With that in mind, let's take a look on the matter of paid writing as expressed by the excellent writer K.J. Charles, with whom I wholeheartedly agree:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://kjcharleswriter.com/2016/02/18/in-a-huff-why-writing-should-be-paid/" target="_blank">http://kjcharleswriter.com/2016/02/18/in-a-huff-why-writing-should-be-paid/</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am not lazy; I could have re-written the same things in a slightly different way, but I see no need to alter her crystal clear and very funny argumentation. I will only quote two small portions of her article:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"</span><span style="font-size: large;">You know what’s a real challenge for many people? Paying their rent;
feeding their families; keeping afloat. You know what makes that harder?
Not being paid." </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Paying authors lets them write. It doesn’t make them less genuine, or
less hungry (except in the actual literal sense, obviously), or less
heartfelt, or less busy. It just makes them able to live and thus do
their job, ie writing." </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am still unemployed. I have stopped sending CVs to random jobs, because I might get hired only to discover they won't pay me, or won't pay for my social security, or expect me to work overtime for free, or any combination of the three/ all three. This is the reality in Greece nowadays, as described also <a href="https://indigojester.blogspot.com/2015/12/greek-reality.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="https://indigojester.blogspot.com/2012/12/about-situation-in-greece.html" target="_blank">here</a>. If, and this is a BIG if, you get hired, then you might not get paid. Which brings you to the next interesting dilemma. Keep working for free in the hope of getting some of the money they owe you, or stop working and losing the money they owe you for certain? We're also probably the country with the most heavy direct and indirect taxes in whole Europe in relation to our income. We're in the top ten of countries with heavy taxes, and yes, French people might have a higher percentage of tax, but they don't get paid a 500 euro wage per month. They also don't get taxed if their annual income is 8000 euro. Please don't get me started, because this will become a screaming fit in block capitals in a manner of nanoseconds. It won't be pretty. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, as I said, I've stopped looking randomly for a job and I am only looking into those jobs that I know from a reliable source will do the three important things: pay you, won't work you to death, and pay for social security. Problem being, I run out of unemployment benefits this month, and next month is going to be, ahem, interesting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you read this blog, and especially if you enjoy this blog (cause I know there are some people silently practicing what we call hate-reading for their own bizarre reasons) <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">please consider helping me</a>. There is a donation button at the upper right corner. If you like my content, please consider even for a moment the possibility of <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">buying me a coffee</a>. If this blog is a friendly place for you, if it has helped you, kept you company, or amused you in any way, then give it a thought. It's not compulsory. But the content you have at your disposal is the best I could come up with that given moment, and as honest as it gets. It's a gigantic portion of my time and craft. I don't want to make this blog restricted to members only or add stupid advertisements. I want it to remain public and viewable by everyone. If I get even the smallest income from it, it would be tremendous help. I've never gotten anything from it, except for two coffees bought by two close friends. If I get a bit of income, I'll be motivated to write more and more in depth. If I don't, it will continue being the random thing that it is now, writing when I feel like it because I want to, and also because I have a bit of time to spare after my work. If you want this to change, you can help me towards it. Unfortunately, I can't do it alone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To change subject, here is a very interesting music video I came across recently. It's slow, dark and haunting. I hope you'll enjoy it. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">You can find their music here: <a href="https://cisfinitum.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">https://cisfinitum.bandcamp.com/</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/omZEmFO8Duc" width="560"></iframe> </span></div>
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indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-12351701468087427902018-05-15T04:52:00.000+03:002018-06-29T17:42:17.710+03:00Diversion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/fMR4fp4A2Ew" width="560"></iframe> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I need to post something for two reasons. One, both music and performance are fantastic. Secondly, I can't bear to see the photo of poor Louse every time I open my blog. It hurts me. So I'll post ballet, which is one of my vices, and stop seeing my dead kitten. Sounds like a plan?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For those of you who don't care about ballet, may I suggest looking at the arms of the female dancer? Just observe the grace and beauty of their movement and don't look at anything else if you don't want. Those fluid, seemingly effortless movements are the result of a few thousand hours of excruciatingly difficult practice. Just try the ballet posture for a minute and then tell me. Shoulders down and back, neck and body straight, tuck in your tummy, don't sag, don't stick your butt out. Keep breathing. Wow, that hurts, doesn't it? And you're not even moving! That's the basic posture, not practice. Ha! You simply have to keep that unnatural posture (which, by the way, is actually the healthy posture your body should have, but due to smartphones and office jobs and what have you, no-one stands that way) and try simple exercises for beginners. Oh joy! Suddenly those effortless, graceful movements in the video reveal themselves for what they really are: torture methods for a particularly nasty elite in hell. I'd sure as fuck make politicians learn classical ballet after death. I'd love to see Hitler or Trump in a pair of pointe shoes. I'd probably use a whip for encouragement. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hm, I got carried away, didn't I? Well, I hope you'll enjoy the video. I found it less stiff and stylised than the average ballet performance. Beautiful acting too. And the damn French, oh the damn French, they should either be eradicated from existence, or placed in a harem and made to serve me exclusively. Evil, evil beings, beautiful and talented and expressive and... yes, God dammit, I am jealous. That's my excuse.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">(If you enjoy my content, please consider <span id="goog_1371383045"></span><a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">supporting what I do.</a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"> <span id="goog_1371383046"></span></a>Thank you.)</span> </span></div>
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indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-41916184630434687672018-04-22T05:59:00.001+03:002018-05-02T03:45:00.815+03:00The unexpected visitor of Sadness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgypoDPegmcdaNjtgQewUfMY0ANxbwY3K2tg17vd4Rp5VozbvTzWNewhCrq4TP6WKpVujP4eAAFwcIbtw3XqTCWRlSm78_DfQPxJNV3pIyCcs971w76eT-orQoIU8tb77I26MR1kQ/s1600/DSCN1989.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgypoDPegmcdaNjtgQewUfMY0ANxbwY3K2tg17vd4Rp5VozbvTzWNewhCrq4TP6WKpVujP4eAAFwcIbtw3XqTCWRlSm78_DfQPxJNV3pIyCcs971w76eT-orQoIU8tb77I26MR1kQ/s400/DSCN1989.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A few days ago, my kitten Louse got sick. It was a respiratory infection that goes around lately; causes fever, lack of appetite. Another of my cats also got sick with it and got over it. But poor Louse simply could not make it. I saved her life twice in the past, this time it was over in less than three days. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I knew this cat would not live for long. She wanted to live and clung to life with a ferocity I've rarely seen. She was not growing up properly, she had a heart or lung condition and yet she ran around the house like no other kitten. She played constantly and pulled tricks on the other cats, driving them insane. She was the smartest cat I've come across, and she only lived for less than six months. I had come to accept the possibility of her passing away ever since the vet told us about her heart condition. So when she died, I did not cry. But today that I opened a folder in my PC and came across that photo of hers, I cried my eyes out. She looks healthy in that photo. Healthy, happy and inquiring as to what this stupid human (me) wanted from her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I only wanted you to live for as long as you could, my sweet darling. And I am happy I offered you those six months. I wish I could have done more, but my hands were tied.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Please neuter and spay your cats. Louse was found on the street and I did the best I could for her. Most kittens born on the streets live in appalling conditions for as long as they live and </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">die terrible deaths</span>. There is too much misery in this world already. Don't add to it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope you are happy wherever you are now, and run around, perfectly healthy and feisty and smart as a whip. Good bye, my darling; till we meet again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">(If you enjoy my content, please consider <span id="goog_1371383045"></span><a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">supporting what I do.</a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"> <span id="goog_1371383046"></span></a>Thank you.)</span></span></span></div>
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indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17968706.post-25532405646586643482018-04-07T05:33:00.001+03:002018-08-02T01:59:32.851+03:00Fun time with demons<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have been re-reading my past diaries. I do that from time to time. I recently came across a dream I had seen in 2016. I had forgotten about it. Ha! It scores a veritable nine out of ten in the Shitting Bricks scale, so I thought I'd share with you. Ready or not, here I come.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am in a place with other people. Everyone is sleeping. I meet a friend's mother in law. She is smoking like a chimney, and I tell her that she has a demon in her throat. If she exorcises that demon, she will quit smoking. I also tell her that someone has seen spots in her aura, which means she is in imminent danger of developing cancer if she doesn't quit. She tells me she doesn't want to. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I notice that there is a metallic object flying in the room. It is a decorative object, but it is flying in the manner of an insect. I grab it, throw it on the floor and step on it, destroying it. There is an orange substance like dough inside. The left hand I used to catch it with is smeared with that orange substance. I know there is a demon inside that thing, so I keep stomping on it while yelling, "Fire! Bring me fire to burn it!" No-one pays attention to my yelling. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The scenery changes and I am back in my house. The demon has followed me there. My (dead) grandmother </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">appears in my dream</span>. She was my father's mother, and her name was Elizabeth. She takes the demon inside her willingly to protect the rest of the family. Suddenly I find myself in another place, where two friends live, and they, too, are under possession and they keep attacking me together with their demon, who's a man. I can barely keep them in check. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I find myself back in my house, in my room. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">My possessed grandmother is in my room with me. I step out. </span>My mother gives me a candle to put it inside my grandmother's mouth. I open the door, put the candle inside my grandmother's mouth, and close the door again. An explosion takes place, and when I open my door again, my grandmother has transformed into a candle that burns </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">slowly</span>. My mother seizes that candle and tells me, "Now I am going to call another demon to take her soul and bring me wealth." She is holding the candle </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">in her right hand </span> as she tells me "Look! Do you feel that wind? It means he has arrived. He </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">is already here</span>." </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I look around and there is indeed an abnormal wind blowing that terrifies me, because there is a thing like tendrils of black smog inside it. "I am going to stop you," I tell her. "In the name of Christ," I say, and raise my hand. I am holding a big metallic knife in my right hand. I draw a banishing pentagram in the air and her invocation is cut short.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"What did you do?!" she screams at me. I realise her left eye is completely black, as if it is a stone and not a human eye. "A rich man would have come in my life, and he'd have taken care of me!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"It's best for you to be free," I tell her, and I wake up. I am panting. I look at the clock. It is 05:43 a.m.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The worst part of the dream wasn't that. The worst bit was after waking up. I called upon Michael because I was terrified and still heaving. I looked at the ceiling and saw tendrils of black smog. I raised my right hand to block it and spoke out loud the name of Michael three times. At the same time, a dog started howling somewhere in the neighbourhood, while the sirens of two ambulances echoed in the distance. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Don't ask me how I slept again that night. I did. It wasn't easy, but I am rather used to these things happening to me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Points of interest:</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-size: large;">Sleeping people= unaware of the supernatural?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Addictions are actually 'demons'. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Spots in aura are a sign that a sickness is about to appear in the physical body, if it hasn't already.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Fire can </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">indeed</span> be used to fight demons.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Selling the soul of a person who sacrificed themselves to protect others in order to gain wealth is one of the most abominable deeds I can think of.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Drawing a banishing pentagram in the air can be used to ward off evil whether one is asleep or awake. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">The knife I saw in my dream does exist. After the dream, I took it and placed it on my altar. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Michael and Christ are excellent choices to keep evil at bay. Don't forget Michael's element is fire, and Christ... Well, I don't need to elaborate.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Howling dogs, eh, not good. Animals can sense when something is wrong. Ambulances, obviously not good. Numbers in descending order, not good either. </span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here is a picture of an invoking and a banishing pentagram. Use the second to kick some demon ass. And don't forget, the worst demons are the ones we create by addiction and obsession. They begin as thought-forms and slowly evolve into separate, autonomous entities. So regulate your bad habits if you don't want unhealthy roommates in your body and mind. :) And i</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">f you enjoy my content, please consider <a href="https://ko-fi.com/K3K6A7CX" target="_blank">supporting what I do</a><a href="http://./">.</a> Thank you.</span></span></div>
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indigojesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10333400138812357130noreply@blogger.com0