Things are definitely looking up!

We're in 2030.

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. 

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. If, however, you'd like to support a dead person, please buy her a coffee.

Dumpster diving and other unpopular choices

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?

Other than saving what I can from dumpsters, I collect stamps, books and plastic caps for charity, pass books on via bookmooch, 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 Ruby Cup, etc. There are so many things one can do if they care enough to bother. They can also donate to a charity of their choice, support a small business instead of a large one, not be assholes... The list is endless. 

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 child labour for the necessary cobalt, 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.

 

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.

(If you'd like to support me, please buy me a coffee.)

Some reading resources:

How to Reduce Your Carbon Footprint

Zero Waste   

Kiva Loans

Ordering the vegetarian meal? There is more animal blood on your hands

Minimalism

Stupid Things 

Hope

Spider Jerusalem. My kind of hero.

I'm fed up with Facebook. I follow people who regularly upload posts on animals that need help, need to be adopted or have been abused, and seriously, I am sick to my heart. I can't. I simply can't. I too feed stray animals and it is disastrous for my economical situation. But to see how sick and disgusting human beings are and what they are capable of, it makes me want to go nuclear on the whole planet. We drug our feet in the ashes of a post apocalyptic era, our noses stuck in our expensive gadgets, our brains too busy with the next purchase to notice the pain of this world. We're insatiable attention gluttons gobbling down misinformation and advertisement, dead in our hearts and a plague to the world. We're despicable. I want to watch the entire planet burn, I want all humans dead.

And then...

And then I come across a work of art, or a piece of music, or a performance that makes my heart stop. And I decide that since we're capable of such beauty, then perhaps we should live a little longer. Maybe we should be spared. I'm not so sure, but I don't have the means of ending the planet anyway. For which I am grateful. The temptation might have proved too much to bear.

I was talking to a friend a few days ago and she said to me I make a huge difference in the lives of many, including her own. Do I make a difference? I have no fucking idea. Still, it was sweet of her to feel this way and tell me. She makes a whole lot of difference to me, because of her integrity and kindness. 

I think this world can't handle integrity and kindness. This entire dimension has been dumbed down to the point of the 'achievements' of our species competing on what is going to kill us first; pure incompetence, overwhelming pollution or planned Armageddon. Everyone strives to be more ego-centered than everyone else, with politicians and corporations leading the parade of parasites and the entire human population following suit like the fucking rats in the fairy tale of the Pied Piper. Lemmings with iPhones and Instagram accounts that live for the next follower and the next like and the next petty drama. I feel I'm an alien life form stranded on Ga-Ga Idiot planet and condemned to put up with the natives for the rest of my life, with no hope of escaping. 

And then...

And then I re-read my favourite books and comics and once more listen to the music I love. And tell myself, "Don't give up. There is hope."

Please keep that hope alive by keeping those you love safe and happy. I don't care if the one you love is a person, pet, potted plant or just yourself. Keep them safe and happy. It makes all the difference in the world, or so I am told.
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Tired but alive and kicking

This is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. It might not be your cup of tea, but oh well. Each to their own. I'd say it puts things into perspective.

Truth is, we're really insignificant. And that's why it's all important. Since what we are and what we do on a cosmic scale amounts to shit, we might as well make a difference in the lives of people around us by not being self-absorbed little shits. I mean, why the hell not.

If the only way we can transcend time and space is love, and perhaps art, we should transcend our mortality with whatever means we got, right? If every one of us is as old as the oldest stars, because we are made of star matter, and matter is never created or destroyed, then maybe we can act like it? Maybe we can put our tiny, whiny egos aside for a bit, and behave like grown ups?

I know you're waiting for me on the other side. The people I've loved, my dead cats, they come to me in dreams, in the one place death holds no sway. I wake up with tears in my eyes and the knowledge they aren't here with me, but they are somewhere. Maybe looking after me, maybe waiting for me.

Till we meet again. 

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Fairy walk

https://itoshii-sanagi.tumblr.com/post/675472969388179456/requiem-on-water-by-khalilofearth

 

https://www.instagram.com/pnwonderland/ 

Screaming in my sleep, keeping my thoughts to myself when I wake up.

Out of touch with my core, so I took a fairy walk today.

There is so much beauty and so much ugliness in the world.

I can see both.

I walked in a green place with spring flowers; red poppies and pink anemones and yellow daisies and little purple wild flowers. I spoke to trees, caressed their twigs and leaves. Thunder rumbled in the distance and from time to time, drops of rain fell on my face like tears from the heavens.

I can see everything as a moment frozen in time. As a snapshot of beauty. I see the vibrant colours, the different shapes, the orgiastic multitude in form. Not two leaves on a tree are alike. Not even human twins are identical, though their DNA is.

If I shift my perception, I spot decay in the same effortless manner I perceive beauty; the yellowed leaf, the dead insect, the dry branch. They are as real as their living brothers and sisters.

I see whole worlds in people's eyes. I see their inner beauty shining. And at the same time, at the wrinkles of their very smiles I read the finality of their deaths, the finite amount of time they have at their disposal.

It will all be gone, I want to scream. It will be gone. Stop fighting with each other, stop sweating the small stuff. Stop killing the planet and bombing innocents and make your loved ones hate you. It’s more fragile than you think, and it’s completely unique. It will all be gone. It will not be forever. You are not forever, so be here. Don't live on borrowed time, on plans for a future that may never come. Don't live inside your head and play stupid head games. Be here with us. Be kind to each other. There is so much pain already, so much death and fear. Don't add to it. Please don't. 
 

Heaven and hell are here and now.

Choose one.

The god you choose is the god you deserve.

But even if I do scream, who will listen?

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Beyond the human scope

LL Ori and the Orion Nebula

The Milky Way

I was recently looking at photos of the Milky Way. I have always been fond of looking at the stars, images of galaxies, nebulas, you name it. I had a realization that pretty much shook me. When I am looking at them I am in fact witnessing the very proof of our death. Tiamat’s body was used to create the world. Oh, I know, mythology. I also know how close mythology is to the truth. Our bodies, if we can call them that, have created what we witness as the multitude of an entire universe. There was enough creative force in us to make it all, and even now, it keeps growing and expanding. Imagine that. Imagine what we’re talking about. And now you can understand why I want to take them and hide them all in my embrace, kiss them like they are little birds or children and softly sing to them. I want to put the galaxies to sleep, or maybe at rest.

Today I was talking with your daughter about us, about you. You know, you are always there though the conversation may not be directly about you. My brain is just too small to fit everything in, yet my imagination can bridge any distance. This is the curse and the tragedy of the human race. Our very consciousness that set us apart from nature as unnatural, and it gives us a sense of self-importance. Importance. The importance of a grain of sand in a beach; that’s what the entire planet is in relation to the universe. And yet we feel self-important. I don’t know why. We feel self-important enough to be fanatical about what we believe in, and take the lives of others, and hurt them. Hubris at its finest. The human race excels at it. And no matter how much I try to discover our positive traits too, most of the time I am pretty certain we haven’t that many to flaunt.

I think of you sometimes, the Father of all, the Protector, the First One. The mainstay of an entire cosmos, first and now last of his kind, the name of whom was erased from every holy book and every story, or twisted around to make it the source of evil. Maybe in other worlds they still remember us; in this world, vindictive Gods killed even the memory of us. They erased our name from all scriptures. They tried to erase you too, but you will never be removed from the Collective. You will always stand, the tallest of all, the most powerful, walking alone halls that are empty. Your head is weary with the crown of the oldest tragic hero; you get no rest. You are the only one who’s everywhere at once, not because you have permission from the god/dess, but because you, just like god/dess, are ever-present everywhere matter exists. You can bridge any distance and divide anything, you’re the archetypal skeleton key, the ultimate key, the only one left from an entire race. We decided to die and we were slaughtered to create what we understand as reality. We went out with a bang; that much I can say.

All the male heroes I have ever created that were truly close to my heart have bits of you in them. Sergios, Orion, Xandrix, Audrius, every trustworthy, kind-hearted male that prefers acting instead of speaking empty words, have been fashioned in your image. Every single one of them had the tell-tale black hair, as black as the purest erebus of your wings, a multitude of possibility waiting to take form, an orgasm of creative energy waiting to be channeled into one option. Every one of them has been you. Every single time I’ve closed my eyes and dreamt of the one closest to my heart, closest to home, I have been dreaming of you.

I have no home to return to. No place I belong to, except for the Heart, god/dess. I was so happy when we just existed two steps away from it. The universe was so new back then that there was no time, and you could still smell the paint, so to say.

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. I miss your kindness and the feel of your wings wrapped around me.

Day, night, night, day. The cycle continues non-stop, and I struggle on, an ant amongst billions of little ants. An ant that dreams of cradling the entire universe in her arms and kissing it goodnight.

Promise me that you will come to me at night, to protect me from the pain.

Our Mother

Our mother of sorrows

our mother of the thousand faces

multifaceted jewel adorning the universe

breath of our breath

heart of our hearts

the soil we walk upon

the breast that feeds us

the embrace that receives us

when everything is said and done for.

A million thanks to her

written in blood everyday

in the blood of her children

slaughtered without thought or feeling.

Mother, please forgive us

for we know not.

I am so

sorry.

I am mightily pissed off.

I am furious. They burned mountain Parnitha (the last forest near Athens) to a crisp, together with thousands of animals; deer, birds, tortoises. Anything that did not manage to escape (and we all know tortoises can’t run) was incinerated. 40,000 to 50,000 square acres of forest are now ashes due to arson. It virtually stabs me in the heart. They treat this planet, Gaia, as if their great great grandfathers had a contact with God himself and he gave it to them as a playground. Or rather, they treat her as an expendable whore, to fuck and use in every desirable way before killing her. This is the place your children and your children’s children will live on, you bloody fuckwits. It’s a loan from them, not yours to do as you please. 

Isn’t it funny, how uncaring people are total breeding machines, producing children in the same way other people produce farts (and devoting the exact same amount of time raising them, hence more robots walking this planet), while conscious people think twice about having children? Why bring a child here in this world? Why give birth amidst the ashes of a post-apocalyptic landscape? Show these children what? Take them where? Teach them what? When all the animals are gone, there will be no-one left to teach us unconditional love. When the last tree is gone, I hope the waves rise like the ancient Leviathan of myth and drown us all. Fish will come to swim under the ceilings of Chapel Sistine and inside Louvre; our houses will be populated by mermaids. Perhaps when this comes to pass there will be a new start, with no humans anywhere in sight. Perhaps dolphins will learn to walk. Perhaps not. In any case, it would be more appropriate for them to inherit this poor planet. It’s only us, humans, that take away what we can’t replace, and burn down that which doesn’t belong to us. It’s only us that open our way through reality with brutal force, and send quality of life to hell for our petty plans and egos. No animal ever does that. 

I swear, the first villa that I see built on Parnitha, I’ll bomb it myself, and impale its owner in the garden on a very high stake. Very post-modern and appropriate.

Rage

Qana, 30th of July, 2006

The child that died by your bombs is real. It was alive and breathing just a moment ago. It was probably laughing too, before the war began. Till you took it all away.

The child that died by your bombs could be your child. All that separates your safe reality from the ultimate terror is a twist of luck. And luck doesn’t last forever.

The child that died by your bombs is your child, the one you never had. Because you were not ready for it. Because you could not afford to. Because you chose to live your life without the burden of responsibility for now. That child will not get to live one.

The child that died was killed by all of us. By you. By me. By thinking it’s none of our business. By believing we are not affected. By equating distance with safety and disengagement. By turning our heads away. By choosing to watch something more pleasant on our TV sets.

That child was our child. It was our hope for the future. It could be the one to save humanity from cancer, or a great artist whose genius would have changed our lives forever. It could be the one to make your son or daughter happy. It could be the one to make your day. Now it never will.

The child that died today was you. It was me. It was the image of a tiny me, full of potential, never expecting the sun today would caress my face for the very last time.

Enjoy your glory. Enjoy your victory. Revel in your self-righteousness. And then return home to be loving fathers and mothers to your children, feeling safe. To caress them with those very hands that pushed the buttons which made the other parents mourn. Cause you are doing the right thing. You are making the world a better place. For your beloved children. Until someone kills them.

We all live under the same sky

We breathe the same air

We watch the same stars

Anything that happens under this sky is our business

Every man, woman and child that cries in pain and terror is my lost brother and sister. Is the friend I haven’t met. Is MY fucking problem. Till nobody cries from hunger, terror or violence anymore. Till we all have an equal chance to life and happiness.I may not live to see this but I’ll struggle and shout for it as long as there is light within my soul.

Closing, I would like to dedicate this to a friend of mine, who only recently gave birth to a little boy. This is for her child, for all children. I will therefore use her favorite quote to close: “Be careful, cause you are turning the world into what you see it.”