Sunday, October 26, 2014

Carbon copies

  You are clearly siding with the powerful if you think it matters who the winner is among established political parties. There are a few minor differences, but no truly significant difference that will lead to anything even resembling true justice and equality. If you looked beyond the propaganda and the deception you would easily see that. Wearing a blindfold will never make you see the obvious.
  As a general rule there is only one party in each democracy, and it’s centrist, mainstream establishment. Democratic elections will always, all things being equal, even during near «perfect» conditions slide towards centrism, towards the least unpopular decisions in a given population. If a new, different party should appear, it will quickly join the one already there.
  Nothing significant will change.
  And that’s before money and power comes in. With those things added a centrist/conservative government is all but assured. The tiny trickle of change happening is for the worse.
  Radicals in United States and United Kingdom and elsewhere, for unfathomable reasons look to Scandinavia because we have «proportional representation» and actually push that as a solution or part of a solution. Please, stop with such dangerous and mindless bullshit. Take it from me, guys. I live here, and it’s no different, just yet another sham.
  Yes, as amazing as that seems to me and other people living here, most people elsewhere see Scandinavia as a kind of paradise, but that view is totally false. It’s pretty much like everywhere else, really. We shake our head when professed radicals elsewhere want to emulate its system of government and «welfare».
  It’s the haves and the have nots here as well. If you have money and a somewhat secure job you’re set, if not you go hungry, and your prospects are dim.
  Please, guys, stop whipping that particular dead horse at least. You should be far more ambitious on behalf of yourself and humanity.
  Politicians are more or less carbon copies of each other. They are dressed the same, speak and behave the same way and vote the same, everyone from the established parties or the parties about to become established serving the same mindset and set of people: those at the top of the pyramid.
  Yes, elections are a sham, not only by the fact that there are no true alternatives to vote for, but that they are held at all.
  Participating in them is fitting your own blindfold, is willful ignorance and irrationality.
  It’s time, time to move beyond pleasantries and the illusion that the tyrants of the world will be nice to us if we are nice to them.
  Petitioning those served by the oppressive system doesn't work. You don’t beg a tyrant for favors. True freedom can’t be given, but must be taken.

  You might decide you want to vote, anyway, even as a stopgap measure, in a vain effort to keep conservative forces from gaining even more power. I get that, I do, but if you do that you will actually aid those same forces, will «accomplish» exactly what you were attempting to prevent. Choosing between two evils or even worse; the same two-headed, many-headed evil, pretending there is true choice is not the way to do it.
  Democracy is the slickest tyranny ever, because it gives people the illusion of influence.
  You shouldn't sit back and do nothing, though. On the contrary, you should do far more than what you’re currently doing.

  The thing to do is to reject the current society as much as you possibly can, and constantly attempt to form truly autonomous and more or less self-sufficient communities where everyone has an equal voice and work from there to reach out to other autonomous communities, and slowly make a new and truly different world, fighting with every possible means at your disposal against the old. To play the game of power doesn't work. If you use the language of the oppressors, especially doing so without critical thought, you've lost the struggle before it has even begun. We see that, time and time again. It’s time for a radically different approach.
  The reasons for the human-created Climate Change, various forms of equally dangerous pollution on all levels, social and economic misery and vast inequality and oppression, all of it show us or should show us beyond doubt that today’s and yesterday’s methods just don’t work, not if we want to create a world where we want to live, not merely exist.
  Those in charge, with the aid of their many eager servants wage a war against humanity and all life on Earth. They - and all the rest of us in concert destroy piece by piece of nature, of everything we need in order to survive.
  There are very few good things left in human existence. The local, national and global community has gone and is going from bad to worse. The strong and very visible warning signals have been virtually ignored and are being ignored. It’s like every single dystopian novel ever written or movie ever made (and then some) has come and is coming true.

  Leave it behind, do so in both your mind and your actions.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

The trenchcoat brigade

  The man in the trenchcoat and cap left the women’s restroom in the international departure lounge at Stanstead airport. He walked in a slow, lavish pace. The odor of weeks’ old sweat was unmistakable. His face was strangely clean and unshaven, the rest of him of quite the dubious quality. People stared at him. Some people stared hard, and with anger burning in their eyes, but he ignored them.
  A sign said, in very large letters.

  The airport community charter is here to help you, but we will not tolerate:

Ø       Drunkenness
Ø       Insulting words or behavior
Ø       Threats or actual physical violence
Ø       Abusive language

  BAA Stanstead/Essex Police

  People had filed into the lounge for quite some time. It was just a few minutes until the gate would open, and the passengers would be let onboard the plane.
  The man bumped into a woman with a baby on her arm.
  - HEY, watch there you’re going, you sow.
  He belched, very loud and distinct. The woman quickly removed herself from his immediate vicinity.
  - What are you guys STARING at? He shouted. – It isn’t nice to stare, you know.
  At this time the man had already been observed by the guards through the surveillance cameras, and they began paying attention to him. A couple of them sat course towards the lounge, to calm the situation at an early stage.
  - I can smell your cunt, the man said to an overdressed woman.
  He sat down by her side, moving his nose over her groin. His sniffing was very pronounced and loud, almost eerily so. She struck him on the head, struck him hard.
  - You fucking cocksucker, she screamed, very loud.
  He rose and stumbled off. Quite a few of the passengers applauded. The woman took a bow. He stumbled in a foot and fell over an entire row of people. Quite a few of them fell of the chairs. He grabbed the rest and pulled them with him to the floor.
  - Sorry, sorry, he grinned, - all you stinking shits.
  The first few guards appeared, striving to keep up their appearance of calm, as they approached the clearly disturbed man.
  - Please, sir, one of them said soothingly, - you need to calm down.
  - So, I need to calm down, you stinking SHIT! The man sniveled. – How do you people get off, anyway, how do you get laid, for that matter?
  The last part of the sentence he added as an afterthought, clearly, seemingly pondering something.
  Then he visibly brightened.
  - Jesus fucked Maria, he said with absolute certainty and conviction.
  - Your behavior is disturbing, deeply disturbing to the other passengers, the officer in charge said with a frown on his brow. – I’m afraid we have to ask you to become with us.
  - Am I disturbing? The man turned and asked the passengers. – Am I offensive?
  - I don’t think so, a young man grinned. – But then I’m biased, I guess.
  He and several others chuckled darkly.
  - I have no misgivings, the woman with the smelly cunt shrugged.
  People stared astonished at her.
  The frown deepened, as the officer in charge hesitated a bit, clearly sensing that something was… off, that something wasn't… right. 
  He was sweating, looking around him with a pained expression in his face. It was clearly visible on the monitors.
  One of the other guards grinned. He looked forward to this. That was also visible on the monitors.
  - C’mon, sir, he said, - you need to come with us and stop hassling these fine people.
  They stepped forward.
  The man stepped backwards, scowling at them.
  The police officers were, in general quite confident, fairly certain of their place in the world, in the scheme of things. They surrounded the man in a maneuver they had practiced by doing many times.
  The disturbing man laughed out aloud, a very patronizing laughter making them stop in their tracks.
  - You guys never cease to amaze me, in negative ways.
  He shook his head in mock despair.
  Suddenly they felt a chill, and they couldn't for the life of them tell why.
  The man began removing his clothes, his cap, his coat and his pants, leaving his jacket for some reason.
  - That’s enough, the officer in charge snarled.
  They charged the disturbing man. In an amazing move he grabbed the two in front and pushed them back. The entire group of six was stopped. To the spectators it looked like they hit a wall.
  Then, in an even more amazing move, before anyone managed to catch their breath he struck the biggest police officer in the face, felling him with one blow. He was unconscious long before he hit the floor.
  The big, very big man threw his jacket away, revealing a large, ugly machinegun hanging from his belt. He drew it, and before the security forces managed to even utter a word of protest he mowed them all down. The screaming began.
  Several more guards approached, guns in hand. Some of the perceived passengers, among them the woman with the smelly cunt drew large guns, too, firing totally indiscriminately at anything moving, and everyone was moving, attempting in vain to escape the barrage of hot lead. The woman and the baby in her arms were among the first casualties. Many more followed in the seconds and long minutes to come.
  The sign with the big letters were blown to bits.
  For a while, a few seconds at least a temporary, eerie silence reigned.
  - That was FUCKING invigorating, the woman with the smelly cunt shouted. – WASN'T THAT FUN?
  She threw herself into the arms of the big man and kissed him on the lips.
  - I love you, Timothy, she cried. – I fucking love you. You know how to keep a girl entertained.
  The young man with a dark chuckle threw his head back and howled at the invisible moon, and fired a salvo at the ceiling.
  There were wounded people on the floor. The disturbing gang took care of everybody, before they moved on to the next gate. People fled in droves from it. Some got away, but most of them were either hit by a rain of bullets, roasted by flamethrowers or blown to bit by exploding rocket grenades. The twenty-two people walked in a fast pace, but didn't run. They calmly (with the exception of a few excited cries) eradicated everything in their path. More security guards showed up. They were exterminated with the rest.
  - TO FUCKING HELL ON EARTH, Timothy Joyce shouted and cackled insanely, as he walked in front of the lethal procession. – TO THE DESECRATION AND SODOMIZING OF ANGELS!
  Everybody, also those far away, fleeing with their hearts stuck in their throat heard his voice, heard it above the thunder of the guns.
  They would never forget it. Long after they had stopped having nightmares filled with blood and thunder they would remember the demonic face and voice.

  Timothy Joyce and those enthusiastically following him stopped at an intersection and began shooting to pieces all the surveillance cameras. All screens turned black.


  No more bullshit!

  The story above stars Timothy Joyce, one of the main characters in my novel Your Own Fate. It is part of the extensive extra material on the website, offering further understanding and perspective of the story.
  It wasn't included in the novel because it’s fairly similar to several other scenes there, and because it didn't quite fit. The story in the book is mostly told from Jeremy Zahn’s perspective.
  This short story about the events on a modern airport would also have to be at least four times longer than the one you have just read. Perhaps I will write the extended version some day.
  Timothy Joyce is a man with no more patience for bullshit, as you can plainly observe and certainly appreciate. If you want to find out more about him, go here, or read the book. He certainly would appreciate it.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

The great coming of the Night

  Now and then, it’s great to just sit still and watch as it turns darker outside, to keep all electrical lights switched off and watch Night approach.
  The shadows turn longer and the very air around you changes in startling ways. The western horizon turns into beautiful and ever-shifting variations of red. The colors seem to be fading, but are in truth only metamorphosing into a different frequency your eyes can’t catch. The gray light of day Goes Away, and you feel yourself awakening from your slumber.
  And when you sit there, immersed in the vast darkness, listening with known and unknown senses, you don’t turn the lights on, but remain there for as long as you feel like it, enjoying the sensation when thoughts and creativity flow freely.
  All kinds of thoughts and sensations come to you.

  I enjoy the night, enjoy it and its experience immensely. It’s when I do most of my work and the best. Lately, I've been able to enjoy it even more, like I do every time I fill my fridge and stay at home in my cave, forest and mountain, and even though I also have to occasionally do it for economic reasons, have to drastically cut my expenses, I would have done it anyway.
  There is little or no pattern to anything I do. I go to sleep when I’m tired, wake up when I’m not, and there’s a freedom to that everyone should taste and enjoy. I don’t actually have to do anything, except eat and drink, pee and shit.
  My natural sleep pattern is during the day. I usually have breakfast at dusk. During the winter half of the year I hardly see the sun at all.
  The night lasts eighteen hours and I rejoice.
  I haven’t been to the city for three weeks and I don’t really miss it. I didn't miss it when I was months and even eighteen months away from it either.
  I can enjoy myself there, but aside from when I visit the urban wilderness of London and similar, it’s a different kind of enjoyment, one not touching me so deeply.

  "Montgomery told me that the Law... became oddly weakened about nightfall;
that then the animal was at its strongest;
a spirit of adventure sprang up in them at the dusk;
they would dare things they never seemed to dream about by day".

H. G. Wells
The Island of Dr. Moreau

  I dream about it, the true life of a Human Being all the time, also in the most glaring daylight, but the great and irresistible drive to think and act free of restraint and oppression is strongest at night. Dreams Belong to the Night!

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Road of devastation

  They’re making yet another road, road into the forest, ruining even more life in the process. That deep… scar clearly diminishes the joy of moving through these woods.
  Those in charge, with the aid of their many eager servants wage a war against humanity and all life on Earth. They - and all the rest of us in concert destroy piece by piece of nature, of everything we need in order to survive.
  Human society has been a horrible place to live for a long time, and has gone steadily worse. In leaps and bounds it had turned into something where it is impossible to truly live, except on its outskirts, its dark corners and edges.
  Not so strange that. We slowly remove all pleasure from our lives, everything making us thrive and enjoy ourselves, everything making us human and supplant it with mindless entertainment, with death of the spirit.
  A road through the forest, through the wilderness isn't merely a broad piece of asphalt, but a dam to keep life from crossing it. Yes, all science and research and de facto reality not only suggest, but tell us plainly that only tiny encroachments into nature is sufficient to disrupt age old paths. Making reservoirs, «pockets» in the wilderness isn't a good thing at all. It may slow down the dying, but it doesn't in any way put a stop to it. Traditional «conservation», its very idea, not only how it’s practiced has been an abject failure and remains a failed tactic, a stopgap measure at best, a disaster of both willful deception and mindless intent.
  One road destroys or at least ruins a given ecosystem, reducing it in stature and effectiveness.
  And there are many roads. A city, by its very presence in a given area is a disaster for long term survival there.
  All the big mammals are dying, are going extinct. Many smaller, even insects as well. One chemical, or several in combination, so useful in civilization, kills off the bees. Others kill off other animals. We see it every day, see how the massive amount of poison we have introduced into the soil and water and air works on the animals and fail to see the obvious: that it is also affecting us, both directly and indirectly.
  The Sixth Great Extinction is here and it is us. Humanity has become like a cosmic disaster.
  Modern humans just don’t understand nature anymore, or cause and effect and simple logic for that matter. We fail in the most basic understanding of everything, really.
  Life on Earth is dying, and nothing, nothing is done about it. We are not fixing this, or even trying, no matter how much the propaganda says we are. Yes, we do indeed commit collective suicide.

  The World Grinder

Excavators are one major destroyer's tool

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Prevailing inequality

  My contribution to Blog Action Day 2014:

  Inequality dominates all over the world, on all levels. Poverty is widespread, more common than not, and the situation has gone and is going from bad to worse all the time.
  Poor people in all countries are worse off in case of health and just about anything. The wealthy and powerful use the position their money and power grant them to tightening the noose, the collar around people’s neck even more.
  The charity organizations can’t and won’t fix that. On the contrary, they and their presence serve to segment the situation rather than solving it.
  What is needed, what is mandatory is to change society in fundamental ways, to truly change the world, until there is no major difference in income and fortune anymore. Capitalism must go. It has always and will always serve those in charge. Those in charge and their many eager servants work hard with their propaganda in order to fool people and keep them distracted from the real issues. Established media is one of their most powerful tools. Sports, nationalism, religion and keeping people from truly independent thinking and action are others.

  The difference in salary or the money/funds people may use in a given year shouldn't be unequal at all, or at least not be more or less than ten percent of average. The day that happens we will be very close to a world where true freedom and justice reign.





Wednesday, October 15, 2014

The joy of documentation

  Sadly, I didn't use to value bringing my camera with me on travels and celebrations much earlier. Tons of good moments are lost that way, or at least fairly inaccessible, reduced to dim memory. My firm conviction was that it would «ruin the experience» of the moment. I’ve recently changed my position on this completely. Added documentation enriches the moment, not only its posterity.
  A great photographer brings his camera with him or her everywhere, including the bathroom and in bed.

  Yes, I, procuring audio and video recording equipment has been a tremendous success already.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Recommendations?

  Many authors and certainly I feel strange when people ask us which one of our books we recommend. All the books are labors of love and it is always difficult to choose one above another. At least I would say that I always put something precious of myself in each and every story I write. There is a very good reason to choose The Defenseless, for instance. I labored for thirty-seven years before I published that one. TheJanus Clan series is my life-long project. Your Own Fate is my shortest novel, but I’m still immensely proud over how it turned out. With Afterglow Dust and Alarums of Reality I proved to myself that I would and could keep writing completely different stories from those I had previously written, keep changing themes and content and even form easily, doing so like the most natural thing in the world, embracing variety and its intrinsic value.
  So when people I know fairly well ask, I ponder their opinions and which of the books they will enjoy the most, and it’s usually different every time.
  But if I should choose one, it would have to be Dreams Belong to the Night. It will always be the one I’m most proud of, for many reasons. I wrote it and my second choice ShadowWalk in a very turbulent time in my life, with great swings of both joy and despair. It was also during this time I felt I was becoming an author, truly becoming one and that I was no longer someone just trying to write books. I took a step (leap) or ten forward during those five years, in so many ways.
  All my books and art… they are me, the characters in the first ten (chronologically speaking) both an idealistic and demonic version of myself, but this is so twice or thrice over. I always felt, from I was very young that any storyteller needs to live a life at least as dramatic and exciting as the characters he or she writes about. In London, in the summer of 1988 I started doing that. In some ways The Defenseless is about the time before that, its first draft written while I was still an insecure and troubled teenager. Dreams and SW are written during and after my most radical awakening, a time where I mostly enjoyed myself beyond words, during one of the happiest times of my life.

  And it shows, many times over! My pride is over both content and form. It is such an accomplished whole that I still have a hard time containing my excitement and keeping my somewhat critical sense of proportions. Any writer/artist has a hard time properly judging his own work, I know that. My enthusiasm persists.