I should be doing something entirely different now but I became too upset to study. I mean, the policy of museums and the media just became too petty to bear. I sit here in this room, while there's some terrible stuff going on in the world... We're drowning in the blood of the innocent... I can cry all I want, but I can't do anything...
I feel utterly powerless... And I can't say it's not my problem. I'm way too holistic to do that.
So Hillary wrote a fucking letter. There's a thousand children dying from starvation, torture and cruelty for each word in that fucking letter, thanks to the USA's millitant arrogance or lack of intervention. In our country, some corrupt assholes are after some other bunch of corrupt assholes, and both of them are trying to get the power over this this tiny, miserable piece of land called Hungary.
So Hillary fucking Clinton writes the fucking letter, and I sit in my room and I'd do anything to make this end... I mean I'd DIE to make it go away...
The other day I saw a video of a 2 year old chinese girl run over twice... she lay there and everybody let her bleed to death. Why? Because the Chinese government charges you with the hospital bill if you help, or so they say.
I remember a guy who went to Iraq as a journalist, telling a story about a shelter that'd been bombed. He said it was full of little kids. After the bombing there was their fat, burnt onto the walls in the shape of little children.
Hillary! Thanks for the fucking letter.
Happy Fucking New Year, You Fucking Beasts!
2011. december 30., péntek
2011. december 25., vasárnap
The Nihil Speaks
I probably should be very sleepy by now, but I'm not. It's been going on for weeks. At around 10 a.m. I decided I can't take it anymore and passed out, only to be painfully ripped out of a senseless dream by my father's yelling after a few hours. I sat down to eat. The others have already finished their meal. Mine was cold but I didn't mind. The table was empty, the TV was on in the other room. After I ate I just sat there and felt like crap for some time. I just sat there, completely silent, not having enough willpower to get up from my chair and go somewhere, anywhere. I listened to my parents commenting on the telly. I thought about how after dinner I'll be be sitting there again, probably listening to the evening news. (Have the news always been this dramatic and violent or is it really getting worse?)
It's pathetic to see this blog incline from its spiritual aspiration for love towards full-blown existential desperation. I still have hope that it'll go away. But I can never go back to the illusion of the sacred warrior again. I used to be so sure about my ways, but now - I'm not even sure if love is the answer. I'd say I'm totally empty, but I won't because I don't know what empty is. I just can't grasp it. Well can you?
It's pathetic to see this blog incline from its spiritual aspiration for love towards full-blown existential desperation. I still have hope that it'll go away. But I can never go back to the illusion of the sacred warrior again. I used to be so sure about my ways, but now - I'm not even sure if love is the answer. I'd say I'm totally empty, but I won't because I don't know what empty is. I just can't grasp it. Well can you?
2011. december 24., szombat
Christmas Melancholy
Home. Family. Dinner. It takes only half an hour, we eat and talk about some meaningless shit. Then, all four of us go back to our rooms, to the kind of screens we prefer. It's been like this even before we had our laptops with my brother. I guess it was quite a few years ago. I'd wait until 10, that's when my parents fall asleep, light a spliff, turn on my radio, write and draw until 3 am, then sleep and wake up for school totally exhausted. My sleeping problem didn't start with the internet, that is for sure, but my new addiction had great support from my old routine.
So I guess we are not very communicative people. So what? Other families can't be much different. I don't even mind other families. I simply find it heartbreaking that when I was away I cried everyday and I vowed to spend as much time with my 'loved ones' as I can. I feared every fucking day that they will die, and that they will already be dead when I go home. And now that I'm here - I can't seem to be able to talk to them. I mean I stroke their back and hugged them a few times - but I know nothing about them. My brother has a new girlfriend and I don't dare to ask who she is. I should listen to my mother ranting about anything and I should forgive my father for being a douchebag. Now I teared up a little, but that's the best I can get out of me.
My life - my career - isn't going anywhere. I have none of that to be honest. I've just recently realized how everything I thought to be true about myself - my talent, my chosenness, my wit, my luck and everything - was just a big fat lie I told to myself to keep me from killing me. Now in this situation one recognizes the importance of a family, the ones who love one no matter what. As long as they are alive, I shall live. As soon as they die... I suppose I'll have nothing left.
What is my life purpose anyway? I'm stuck with a profession that repells me - ART - it's no good for anything - it's corrupt and boring. I would much rather be a musician or a filmmaker - who the fuck is interested in paintings nowadays? I don't blame them! It's dead! It's a big taboo that cannot be admitted because it'd expose the lazy mammonist ass of the professionals. Do they ever ask themselves where their life is going? I guess not, otherwise they'd see how hopeless the case is. It is in their best interest to keep the wheels going and have losers like me spin it for them.
Now the best case scenario is I get a degree which will enable me to TEACH the same meaningless crap I was taught to retarded elementary school kids.
How cool is that!
I'm not going to go into details about my lovelife now. I'm smashed anyway.
Happy Christmas Cocksuckers!
So I guess we are not very communicative people. So what? Other families can't be much different. I don't even mind other families. I simply find it heartbreaking that when I was away I cried everyday and I vowed to spend as much time with my 'loved ones' as I can. I feared every fucking day that they will die, and that they will already be dead when I go home. And now that I'm here - I can't seem to be able to talk to them. I mean I stroke their back and hugged them a few times - but I know nothing about them. My brother has a new girlfriend and I don't dare to ask who she is. I should listen to my mother ranting about anything and I should forgive my father for being a douchebag. Now I teared up a little, but that's the best I can get out of me.
My life - my career - isn't going anywhere. I have none of that to be honest. I've just recently realized how everything I thought to be true about myself - my talent, my chosenness, my wit, my luck and everything - was just a big fat lie I told to myself to keep me from killing me. Now in this situation one recognizes the importance of a family, the ones who love one no matter what. As long as they are alive, I shall live. As soon as they die... I suppose I'll have nothing left.
What is my life purpose anyway? I'm stuck with a profession that repells me - ART - it's no good for anything - it's corrupt and boring. I would much rather be a musician or a filmmaker - who the fuck is interested in paintings nowadays? I don't blame them! It's dead! It's a big taboo that cannot be admitted because it'd expose the lazy mammonist ass of the professionals. Do they ever ask themselves where their life is going? I guess not, otherwise they'd see how hopeless the case is. It is in their best interest to keep the wheels going and have losers like me spin it for them.
Now the best case scenario is I get a degree which will enable me to TEACH the same meaningless crap I was taught to retarded elementary school kids.
How cool is that!
I'm not going to go into details about my lovelife now. I'm smashed anyway.
Happy Christmas Cocksuckers!
Have You Ever Had a Friend That You Hated?
- I mean, as your friend, I have to say...
(Awkward pause.)
(Oh my goodness. Where did that come from? In my head, I say I hate her, I mean, you wouldn't believe the stuff I think about her, and now this? How can I be such a hypocrite?)
- Oh... Alright, but you know, I can't just rush it. These things take time, we can't break up right away, we mean so much to each other. We've been together for 5 years.
(What did I expect? I can't make her admit that she's a bloodsucking, materialistic bitch. It's none of my business anyway. I must be drunk. How on Earth did I end up with her again?)
We keep chatting about things like her new art project - which by the way, is not very creative or interesting in my opinion, and I say this after some serious struggling to understand her hazy concept, which she wouldn't shut up about ever since it turned out some of the 'principals' liked it. She's clearly an attention whore, one of the 'lack-of-selfesteem - occasionally-feeling-on top-of-the-world' kind that needs affirmation more than anything and is willing to do anything to get it.
Others always dominated me. From time to time, the notion that this might be my destiny shoves me into the deepest of depressions, and I begin to contemplate if slavishness is my nature. Maybe it's in my blood, that's what my parents and ascendants chose as a survival tactic. I hate to listen to others problems or achievements and yet, I find myself too often to be stuck in this position. I guess it's just easier to let others provide the content of a conversation. It's not that I have nothing to say - or maybe it is. Why would they care about anything that happens to me? Why would I tell about my small successes, troubles and thoughts? The others don't seem to ask these questions from themselves. Or perhaps their desire to communicate overcomes reasoning.
(Awkward pause.)
(Oh my goodness. Where did that come from? In my head, I say I hate her, I mean, you wouldn't believe the stuff I think about her, and now this? How can I be such a hypocrite?)
- Oh... Alright, but you know, I can't just rush it. These things take time, we can't break up right away, we mean so much to each other. We've been together for 5 years.
(What did I expect? I can't make her admit that she's a bloodsucking, materialistic bitch. It's none of my business anyway. I must be drunk. How on Earth did I end up with her again?)
We keep chatting about things like her new art project - which by the way, is not very creative or interesting in my opinion, and I say this after some serious struggling to understand her hazy concept, which she wouldn't shut up about ever since it turned out some of the 'principals' liked it. She's clearly an attention whore, one of the 'lack-of-selfesteem - occasionally-feeling-on top-of-the-world' kind that needs affirmation more than anything and is willing to do anything to get it.
Others always dominated me. From time to time, the notion that this might be my destiny shoves me into the deepest of depressions, and I begin to contemplate if slavishness is my nature. Maybe it's in my blood, that's what my parents and ascendants chose as a survival tactic. I hate to listen to others problems or achievements and yet, I find myself too often to be stuck in this position. I guess it's just easier to let others provide the content of a conversation. It's not that I have nothing to say - or maybe it is. Why would they care about anything that happens to me? Why would I tell about my small successes, troubles and thoughts? The others don't seem to ask these questions from themselves. Or perhaps their desire to communicate overcomes reasoning.
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