Ants in my pants

It's one of those frustrating nights. I'm frantically looking for something, but it eludes me in the same frantic manner. I jump from one site to the next, looking, searching, desperately trying to get a glimpse, a faint idea of what I'm missing. And of course failing, because I don't have a clue what I'm looking for. I'm just restless and unfulfilled, and internet can't help me with that. No-one can help me with that.

I found this song that is a reward in itself. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Until then, enjoy.

Lyrics

Run from the light
Your eyes black like an animal
Deep in the water

I care for no one but the offspring of your mind
Run from the one who comes to find you
Wait for the night that comes to hide

Your eyes black like an animal
Black like an animal
Crossing the water
Lead them to die

We press for the water, press for the river, press for the rain
We press for the water, press for the river, press for the pain

We press for the water... 

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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Christmas classics

"All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable."

"REALLY?" said Death. "AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE."

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—"

"YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES."

"So we can believe the big ones?"

"YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING."

"They're not the same at all!"

"YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET"—Death waved a hand. "AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME... SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED."

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

"MY POINT EXACTLY."

-Terry Pratchett, Hogfather

Merry Christmas/ Yule/ whatever celebration you celebrate to everyone! I hope you are all safe and in the company of the ones you love.

Triggers

I recently read that grief isn't a process, but rather a new way of seeing things. It was one of the best ways I have seen grief described. I'm still mourning for my friend Virve and it has altered my entire perception. I will include the quote at the end of this paragraph. Some might find it helpful. I did find it helpful.

How do triggers work? They work due to the mind's ability to make associations and connections. You see something that for another person means nothing, or something positive. For you, however, it has a very different meaning and causes vastly different feelings. For example today I saw a bottle of soda water on my desk. I wanted to give you that bottle because you love soda. Then I remembered we're no longer together. That's a perfect example of a trigger. A soda bottle made me feel sadness and a sense of futility.

Don't get me wrong. I don't regret a thing I did for you, and I don't consider it futile because you didn't appreciate it. I am who I am. Nothing can change me. Only death can take my personality away. When my time comes, death will step in lightly and transmute my being into something bigger and brighter and literally larger than life. Death is the one place, the one condition that wipes the slate clean of everything. And guess what, the first thing to go are our lies. All the lies we told ourselves and other people are gone like morning mist under the blazing sun. For death is yet another sun; it shines black and negative and peaceful in its anti-existence. The doorway opens and you step through it naked as a baby. Everything you have been holding onto for comfort is gone.

When your comforting lies and possessions are gone, I hope each of you will hold onto the one thing no-one can take from you, not even death. Your dignity.

Good night. 

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Two cats on one lap

"What do you mean you want to check your Facebook? Surely you can fit us both on your lap while typing on the keyboard!"

Of course, they are not happy that they are BOTH on me, because each would rather have exclusive use of my lap/ boobs. So they are giving each other dirty looks.

  Aaaand there is another one on my bed waiting for her turn.

Life isn't boring around here, not ever. 

 Those two gray bumps are my boobs.
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Black Books

My friend J. gave me to watch the old British sitcom Black Books. It's so funny it makes my knees rubbery. There are instances I have fallen off my chair and struggle to breathe between waves of laughter so painful that my stomach hurts. I have grown a six pack because of the damn series, and it's good, I guess, because there is no other way I'd ever grow a six pack. I am far more likely to grow tusks. 

I am window shopping inks for my beloved fountain pens since I came across this amazing site on how to take proper care of my babies. The majority of my writing nowadays is done on the PC, with the exception of my diary. Still nothing can replace the feeling of a fountain pen in my hand and the steady, velvety flow of ink on paper. There is absolutely no comparison with any electronic device.

It's scary and adorable how much the inside of the Black Books bookshop reminds me of my home. There is nothing resembling normal in my life, except for the fact I have a job and a house. The rest is pretty much random heaps of objects and cats, jumbled occurrences and an insane, if adorable, mom. It's OK, I don't really mind. That's how it is and there is no reason to worry about it. Things will take care of themselves, I guess, or they won't, and I'll have to take care of them. I'll cross that bridge when I get there. In the meantime, worrying is a waste of time. I have a very difficult December looming ahead, with very long work hours and a mob ahem... customers wanting to buy Christmas gifts and pralines. The fact the majority would love to lace those same pralines with poison to get rid of their relatives is not strictly relevant. ;) 

The human race is equipped with an amazing ability to go on living even after a nuclear disaster. Look at me, window shopping ink while I still can't figure out a valid reason we are inhabiting this poor, poor planet. There are nights the owner of Black Books is an avid humanitarian compared to me. Other nights, I want to take care of everyone. But still, here I am tonight looking at inks and wondering if lilac is a good colour choice and if it will still be readable in twenty years from now. As if there's any guarantee I'll still be here in twenty years from now. Heh. Humans.

Enjoy a new song by P'haan and Calliah while you're here. They are as good as pralines, maybe better. 

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On love

Source: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=348914941857380&set=pb.100002166317517.-2207520000.1480292734.&type=3&theater

The following dialogue is taken from the movie "Interstellar". Highly recommended.

COOPER

"You’re a scientist, Brand -"

BRAND

"I am. So listen to me when I tell you that love isn’t something we invented - it’s observable, powerful. Why shouldn’t it mean something?"

COOPER

"It means social utility - child rearing, social bonding -"

BRAND

"We love people who’ve died ... where’s the social utility in that? Maybe it means more - something we can’t understand, yet. Maybe it’s some evidence, some artifact of higher dimensions that we can’t consciously perceive. I’m drawn across the universe to someone I haven’t seen for a decade, who I know is probably dead. Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space. Maybe we should trust that, even if we can’t yet understand it."

Yes, but love takes effort. And it takes effort because like light, love is made of myriads of tiny particles; kindness, generosity, understanding, selflessness, care... This is the secret that allows it to transcend space and time. Every one of these characteristics is about overcoming, transcending, breaking through the barriers of everyday life, normality, expectation. Beyond gaining, beyond life itself in some cases. 

"Do not go gentle into that good night; Old age should burn and rave at close of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

The sky is roaring tonight. So am I.

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