I was dreaming last night, and in my dream I died.
I was murdered by 3 men in a ground floor room, maybe an apartment.
I was lying stomach-down, with my head to the side. The back of my head was missing. But my spirit still saw out of my open eyes.
I saw the mens boots walking around me, then out the door. My right hand was in front of me, and, fascinated, I looked at it for a few hours, as it stiffened, and became pale.
I climbed out of my body, and sat on my back, watching my face with interest. I watched as fluid drained from my mouth and nose, as a green substance issued from my flesh. The floor stained around the openings of my body.
Within days, maggots had burrowed into me, my body bloated, patches of grey. Putrefaction. No one would like me right now.
Then my body collapses again, broken skin, blackness and rotting. The sun and the moon spun by. Fluids spill from me, staining a much larger surface than before. The first generation of maggots leave me, and try to bury themselves in the floorboards. They fail, and become consumed by insects, eating them, eating the me in them. Black putrefaction.
I am now mosquitos and flies, and gases in the air, and bacteria.
After 20 days and nights, beetles and wasps eat their way around my dried out and flattened corpse. I am mouldy, I smell like cheese. This is my butyric fermentation.
Then my dry decay sets in, and I am nothing but hair and bones. Eventually my hairs are consumed, and only my bones remain.
My spirit stands, and sees my skeleton spread out before me, bleeding blackness onto the floor, as if it is floating in a hole. I am unrecognisable as myself, and I lose interest.
I look around the room, and as the sun and moon rush past like strobe light, I see time accelerate. I see the light get brighter in the days, and brighter at night, I see the world start to catch fire, no animals any more.
No birds.
Silence.
The room breaks apart, and dust blows in. Dust and dirt. But no plants.
The roof is gone, the sky looks like a sunset all day.
There is no night any more.
I rise, floating through the air, looking at the city beneath me. Buildings had fallen over, it's a desert. Blacks, greys. It rots, like I did. A stain on the planet.
I look at my country, and see it is the same all over. The world, the same.
The sun is closer now, there is no life. I find other spirits, floating above the world. Watching, eyes downward, as earth slingshots around the sun. Floating amongst the satellites, we have become corporeal satellites ourselves.
We silently observe, as the world bursts into flame, the core and the surface reunite. Our world is like a little sun again.
And in no time at all, the sun eats the world.
I see all of this with no regret. I feel nothing but wonder. I don't need a home any more. I feel no cold in space. And I think about searching for other lives, other worlds to observe.
I am a ghost.
And after billions of years of this, I take pause, and remember there was a time when I lived in a world, and had a body. Had feelings and fears, vulnerable and weak, deluded, proud.
My DNA was fuel for the flames, so was yours. We became the sun, along with every organism that ate us. Even the winds that scattered us became gas for the sun, the sun which now has died and gone cold. We die so many times.
Everything dies, nothing is permanent.
This is the essence of life, and the thing that makes it so precious. It won't last, and what we concentrate on in the tiny speck of time our light shines on the world is both of ultimate importance, and at the same time meaningless.
That is the answer to life- the death.
And the answer to death, is the life.
When I awoke I felt strangely disconnected from this world, and from the people I know. I saw my place in the Universe, the insignificance of my lifes works.
I had all at once so much more compassion for people, and none.
I have a ghost heart now.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Aqueous Underscore.
There's something irreversible about a ship on fire.
A boat, a supertanker, a yacht, it's all the same. Fire being the great equaliser in that scenario. The result- oil on the water, flotsam, jetsam...bodies.
And of course it appeals to our shared subconscious -Archetypes: Fire and water, air, and the fear a total absence of earth provides. And death, let's not forget that. The dark rider, his horse floating even above the depths, dancing on the high tide mark. Amphibious in his jurisdiction. The Jungian motif.
It must look like an eclipse from below. A dark shape surrounded by a halo of fire, the sky blackening around it, providing contrast. Black eyes watching from the deep, anticipating the arrival of fresh meat, a slow rain of alien objects. Ropes, steel, televisions, all drifting to the ocean floor, awaiting further instruction from physics.
Muted sounds of metals colliding, rending, thrashing legs and arms, lungs filling.
They say that drowning is the most peaceful way to die, gradually breathing in water, falling asleep, drifting into restful blackness. I can guarantee you that this is untrue, and speaks nothing of the terror, the wide-eyed flailing panic, as you are suffocated by the very elements that comprise you. There is no peace, no surrender, just the dark, exhaustion, sadness.
And the knowledge that your body will go under, stay under for days, being sampled by denizens of the waters, until hideous bloating causes you to rise again, like a pale, bony jellyfish, for the gulls to use as a makeshift island of rotting nutrients.
Not much to celebrate.
But what is it that separates us from the boat? From the water? From the air above us and the life flashing silver below us?
Nothing, but our minds. Our consciousness, the thing that makes us 'us'. The same thing we simply cannot find with science, with machinery, with chemicals.
We are all the same matter, organised into different piles, mixed in different ways. We're all from the same source, and we all return to it. Death returns us to the water, the soil, the air. And from that point we are re-organised again, into flowers and sidewalks and the skulls of small mammals that grow into rats and live on ships again. And ropes and motors and paintings. And food for cats.
The one thing that makes us fight for this thing we call life, our individual and impossible to locate mind, the seemingly spiritual link to our corporeal body, is itself, invisible. The inner voice of the matter inside us. The periodic table, each element a note, the life signal a melody we hear with our hearts, not our ears. With our minds, not our brains. A wistful bumble bee flight when we laugh. A shuddering crescendo when we die. A soundtrack as long as we live...
There's a lot more to think about in this life, than what we may right now. And sometimes, it's necessary to live dangerously, to escape complacency, to make our senses available for the reception of that signal, in order to see things as they are.
...Our ship is on fire.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
A boat, a supertanker, a yacht, it's all the same. Fire being the great equaliser in that scenario. The result- oil on the water, flotsam, jetsam...bodies.
And of course it appeals to our shared subconscious -Archetypes: Fire and water, air, and the fear a total absence of earth provides. And death, let's not forget that. The dark rider, his horse floating even above the depths, dancing on the high tide mark. Amphibious in his jurisdiction. The Jungian motif.
It must look like an eclipse from below. A dark shape surrounded by a halo of fire, the sky blackening around it, providing contrast. Black eyes watching from the deep, anticipating the arrival of fresh meat, a slow rain of alien objects. Ropes, steel, televisions, all drifting to the ocean floor, awaiting further instruction from physics.
Muted sounds of metals colliding, rending, thrashing legs and arms, lungs filling.
They say that drowning is the most peaceful way to die, gradually breathing in water, falling asleep, drifting into restful blackness. I can guarantee you that this is untrue, and speaks nothing of the terror, the wide-eyed flailing panic, as you are suffocated by the very elements that comprise you. There is no peace, no surrender, just the dark, exhaustion, sadness.
And the knowledge that your body will go under, stay under for days, being sampled by denizens of the waters, until hideous bloating causes you to rise again, like a pale, bony jellyfish, for the gulls to use as a makeshift island of rotting nutrients.
Not much to celebrate.
But what is it that separates us from the boat? From the water? From the air above us and the life flashing silver below us?
Nothing, but our minds. Our consciousness, the thing that makes us 'us'. The same thing we simply cannot find with science, with machinery, with chemicals.
We are all the same matter, organised into different piles, mixed in different ways. We're all from the same source, and we all return to it. Death returns us to the water, the soil, the air. And from that point we are re-organised again, into flowers and sidewalks and the skulls of small mammals that grow into rats and live on ships again. And ropes and motors and paintings. And food for cats.
The one thing that makes us fight for this thing we call life, our individual and impossible to locate mind, the seemingly spiritual link to our corporeal body, is itself, invisible. The inner voice of the matter inside us. The periodic table, each element a note, the life signal a melody we hear with our hearts, not our ears. With our minds, not our brains. A wistful bumble bee flight when we laugh. A shuddering crescendo when we die. A soundtrack as long as we live...
There's a lot more to think about in this life, than what we may right now. And sometimes, it's necessary to live dangerously, to escape complacency, to make our senses available for the reception of that signal, in order to see things as they are.
...Our ship is on fire.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
#Neda.
There's not much time to write this, the situation in Tehran is changing by the minute.
For anyone on Twitter, or utilizing any other means that Iranians have access to (Satellites are jammed right now), please forward the following information (All posts conform to Twitter 140 character limit, Persian translations follow):
-Iranians who are trying to connect to twitter or other sites and need a way to connect please visit this website: http://torir.org
-ايرانی که سعی دارند به هم وصل مى كند يا سايت های ديگر و هيجان وارتعاش نياز به ديدن اين سايت خواهش هم وصل مى كند. http://torir.org
-Stockpile safe water now, in case the Government disconnects services.
-ذخيره حالا آب سالم, در مورد خدمات disconnects دولت.
-Do not RT resistance tweets on Twitter. They are unconfirmed and can get people killed.
-نه tweets مقاومت در هیجان وارتعاش مصيبتهايي پشت سر. اخبار ضد ونقیضی هستند و می تواند كشته شده است.
-Helicopters are dropping liquid teargas. Keep bottled water with you, as well as rags in plastic to wet + rinse affected areas.
-هلي كوپترهاي مايع خرش گاز اشک آور است. حفظ آب بطری خوردم با شما, و نيز در قالب پذير ژنده مرطوب به تاثير تمیزش کنید.
-Do not jam Iranian Government websites, this slows down traffic for people needing to get word OUT.
-نه دولت ايران سايت جام جم, اين ترافيك خواهين عميق احتياج داشت تا مردم به حرف بزنيد.
-Non violent resistance only! As angry as you are right to be, break the cycle of violence...show then you are better than they are!
-فقط مقاومت شديد غير! خشمگين هستند كه شما حق و بقیه از چرخه خشونت است.. .show سپس شما بهتر از آنها هستند.
-Close one eye when use of flares, flashes or bright light is used. This saves your night vision.
-هنگامي كه يك چشم بسته از نمى توانم احساسات خودم استفاده و یا گرمای خاصی نور استفاده شده است. شب بندهٔ بینایی شما اين است.
-Break windows and mirrors of unattended government vehicles, pour sugar in the gas tank, cut tyre valves.
-درهم شكستن شيشه هاي ساختمان آيينه نگهداری کودکان بی سرپرست و وسايط نقليه دولت را شكر در اتاق هاى گاز تانك, صور دريچههاي قطع شد.
-IGNORE ANY TWEETS THAT ENCOURAGE THE USE OF VIOLENCE- THIS WILL ONLY WEAKEN YOUR STRATEGY! Strength in numbers, chant, march!!!
-هیچ tweets ناديده گرفت كه به تشويق استفاده از خشونت, اين استراتژي را تضعيف خواهد شد. نيرو در اعداد, سرود,? ! !
-Use #Neda a primary hashtag. Push to #1 trending topic, avoid multiple posting/confusion.
-يك دوره ابتدايي hashtag #neda استفاده كرد. رهبر ارکستر شماره 1 به موضوع اصولگراي انجمنهاي فشار, اجتناب از طریق فرستادن/درهم ميآميخت.
-Free VPN accounts for Iranians - protect your privacy & avoid blockings. https://www.hideway.eu
-حساب vpn آزاد برای ايرانيان حریم شخصی شما حفظ https://www.hideway.eu
-When grabbed by police, remember to go completely limp, so it takes 4 or more to carry you away.
-هنگامي كه مر دميکه توسط پوليس, به خاطر دارم كه كاملا فلج برود, طول میکشد 4 يا بيشتر به شما را حمل دور شد.
-Make photocopies of Neda's face and hand it to police, army, guards. Paste it on walls, cars, doors. LET THEM SEE HER FACE.
-نبوت ختم را ندا و آن را به پلیس, ارتش و سپاه پاسداران است. خمير آن بر ديوارها, خودرو, صورت گرفت. اجازه بدهید آنها بود.
-Use paint on surveillance cameras, use mirrors to disorient shooting police. NON VIOLENT RESISTANCE ONLY.
-استفاده از دوربین های نظارت در نقاشي كند, استفاده از آينههاي ناجورشدن به تيراندازي پليس. فقط مقاومت کرد.
-Change your location and time to TEHRAN to confuse the Basij. Bury them in information...old school hack style.
-تغيير محل و زمان را به تهران را به نیروی مقاومت بسیج نباشیم. اطلاعات ايشان را دفن.. كهني مدرسه سبك میشود.
-Hold up your QU'RAN!!! Let the police see you are all the same people, don't let them think you are a mob. You are Iranians, just like them!
-شما نگاه قرآن! ! ! پليس میبینم شما همه همين مردم, اجازه ندهند که آنها فکر می کنید که توده مردم. شما ايراني هستند, درست مانند آنها!
Feel free to comment more info in my comments section, be aware that this blog is archived by the Australian Government- so NO COMMENTS ENCOURAGING VIOLENCE.
Thanks.
Please read this Twitter timeline from NiteOwl, for an idea of what has been developing...
1. There was a protest planned today at Enghelab Square in Tehran. However, the whole square was filled with police. The police attacked, beat down on protesters and dispersed them with tear gas. However, the whole city of Tehran was crowded with protesters. As we reported in the last brief, the IRG had expressly been given the authority by Khamenei to violently crush the protests if any start to take place after Friday. (After the protests were over, it has now been confirmed that tanks have rolled in Tehran late at night/early morning)
2. Other protests took place in Isfahan, Tabriz, Shiraz, Mashhad, Rasht and Ahvaz. Protesters were attacked in all the above mentioned cities as well as in other areas of Iran. The situation seemed to be extremely critical in the cities of Shiraz, Tabriz, Isfahan and Rasht. There were incidents of violence against protesters in Ahvaz as well. Reports have also come in of protesters lashing back at IRG and Baseej with at least one Baseej base in Tehran being burnt by angry protesters. Molotov bombs have been used during the protests on a wider scale than before by protesters. It has also been confirmed that in Mashhad, a very large number Mullahs accompanied the protesters.
3. The government claimed as the protests were continuing that a suicide bomber had attacked Imam Khomeini’s shrine. They also claimed that many people had been injured and killed in the incident. However, sources have not confirmed any such attack. We cannot at this point confirm or deny whether any attack on the shrine took place from all our sources. Iranian TV continues to claim this attack has indeed taken place. MSM might have more on this, but treat it with caution.
4. During the protest, helicopters dropped a strange liquid on protesters that we’re still trying to determine the nature of. It has been claimed variously that the liquid was tear gas. Some sources have told us that people who’ve had the liquid contact their skin have developed burns on those spots. But as of yet, we cannot positively identify it.
5. In Tehran, Baseej and possibly IRG forces burnt down a mosque with protesters trapped inside, according to sources. They could not confirm if any protester had actually died or had been injured during the incident.
6. Even though larger protests have subsided, there are still people out on the streets in Tehran and other cities. It is being claimed by sources that the wave of arrests is continuing even at 1 AM Iran time. People are chanting Allah o Akbar and calling Ahmadinejad an oppressor as well blaming Khamenei for supporting him. Throughout the day, the number of people who were arrested has remained unconfirmed, but sources claim that thousands have been arrested, consensus being on around 3,000 and possibly more. Running the numbers and adding them to our previous number of 5,000 arrested before today, the number of people that have been so far seems to have reached somewhere between 5 and 10 thousand. The number of people killed during the protests is anyone’s guess. Sources have confirmed at least 4 death that were recorded on video in Tehran. But the number could be much higher, probably somewhere around 100 or maybe even more as militias have been seen directly firing at crowds of people on several occasions by our sources. The government is not releasing any data on that as of yet.
7. The Iranian Revolutionary Guard has been the spearhead of all the attacks within Tehran. The Basij is helping them. As we had reported before, the IRG had been authorized by Khamenei to use extensive force if necessary to quell the protests. The police have this time also been active in the suppression of the protests but not to the level of the IRG and the Baseej. The remainder of the military has so far taken no action.
8. It has also been claimed that IRG is soon to take complete control of the capital and possibly the major cities where protests have taken place. This is said to be a measure in order to stop protests from happening in the first place. Confirmation is still not as positive as it is in other cases reported here.
9. Mousavi was present during the protests but was unable to deliver his prepared speech. He said that he is ready to be martyred for the cause of people. Reports of his detention and freedom have come from various sources but it seems that for now he is safe. He has called for a general strike throughout Iran.
10. Reformists and high-ranking Mousavi supporters are now being arrested in massive numbers. Sources claim that the Iranian government wants to completely isolate Mousavi so he has no way of contacting the outside world. However, Mousavi continues to manage to get messages out using his sources.
11. As the injured were shipped to hospitals, many were directly taken away into custody without even reaching the hospital. Sources also confirm that government forces then went to hospitals and picked up the injured, hauling them out and taking them to undisclosed locations. The arrest of injured protesters is so massive that our sources have pleaded with everyone inside Iran to NOT go to hospitals.
12. Several embassies in Tehran opened up their doors to injured protesters. They include the embassies of Slovenia, Dutch, Italian, British, Australian, Romania, Czech Republic, Denmark and Germany. There are rumors of other embassies opening their doors to injured protesters as well; however, they cannot be positively confirmed. It has also been confirmed that the Canadian Embassy has closed its doors and turned away injured protesters and told them they are not accepting anyone. (Edit: However, now - 4 hours after the writing of this brief - some secondary sources claim Canada is accepting them and have put on a request for more doctors to come and join them in helping injured protesters.)
13. It has also been reported that Baseej, IRG and police have been stationed around the embassy to intercept any protesters who try to enter the embassies. Many people have so far been arrested on route or close to the embassies and taken to undisclosed location.
14. Sources confirmed that the government is taking forced confessions from arrested protesters and linking them to Western nations. The Iranian TV showed confessions of several protesters. One protester claimed that he had been taking orders from sources in the UK. The TV news stories have been so far blaming the UK and Israel for the violence and have hinted at possible involvement by the US government as well.
15. The Iranian Ministry of Interior has taken extreme measures in order to protect its internet services and data from hackers trying to sabotage their systems. Most websites helping Iranian online protesters have pleaded to all hackers not to DDoS any government-run websites or internet services as this would also create severe problems for Iranians using internet as well and quite possibly might cut off connection to them.
Lastly, follow this link for info on cyberwar.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
For anyone on Twitter, or utilizing any other means that Iranians have access to (Satellites are jammed right now), please forward the following information (All posts conform to Twitter 140 character limit, Persian translations follow):
-Iranians who are trying to connect to twitter or other sites and need a way to connect please visit this website: http://torir.org
-ايرانی که سعی دارند به هم وصل مى كند يا سايت های ديگر و هيجان وارتعاش نياز به ديدن اين سايت خواهش هم وصل مى كند. http://torir.org
-Stockpile safe water now, in case the Government disconnects services.
-ذخيره حالا آب سالم, در مورد خدمات disconnects دولت.
-Do not RT resistance tweets on Twitter. They are unconfirmed and can get people killed.
-نه tweets مقاومت در هیجان وارتعاش مصيبتهايي پشت سر. اخبار ضد ونقیضی هستند و می تواند كشته شده است.
-Helicopters are dropping liquid teargas. Keep bottled water with you, as well as rags in plastic to wet + rinse affected areas.
-هلي كوپترهاي مايع خرش گاز اشک آور است. حفظ آب بطری خوردم با شما, و نيز در قالب پذير ژنده مرطوب به تاثير تمیزش کنید.
-Do not jam Iranian Government websites, this slows down traffic for people needing to get word OUT.
-نه دولت ايران سايت جام جم, اين ترافيك خواهين عميق احتياج داشت تا مردم به حرف بزنيد.
-Non violent resistance only! As angry as you are right to be, break the cycle of violence...show then you are better than they are!
-فقط مقاومت شديد غير! خشمگين هستند كه شما حق و بقیه از چرخه خشونت است.. .show سپس شما بهتر از آنها هستند.
-Close one eye when use of flares, flashes or bright light is used. This saves your night vision.
-هنگامي كه يك چشم بسته از نمى توانم احساسات خودم استفاده و یا گرمای خاصی نور استفاده شده است. شب بندهٔ بینایی شما اين است.
-Break windows and mirrors of unattended government vehicles, pour sugar in the gas tank, cut tyre valves.
-درهم شكستن شيشه هاي ساختمان آيينه نگهداری کودکان بی سرپرست و وسايط نقليه دولت را شكر در اتاق هاى گاز تانك, صور دريچههاي قطع شد.
-IGNORE ANY TWEETS THAT ENCOURAGE THE USE OF VIOLENCE- THIS WILL ONLY WEAKEN YOUR STRATEGY! Strength in numbers, chant, march!!!
-هیچ tweets ناديده گرفت كه به تشويق استفاده از خشونت, اين استراتژي را تضعيف خواهد شد. نيرو در اعداد, سرود,? ! !
-Use #Neda a primary hashtag. Push to #1 trending topic, avoid multiple posting/confusion.
-يك دوره ابتدايي hashtag #neda استفاده كرد. رهبر ارکستر شماره 1 به موضوع اصولگراي انجمنهاي فشار, اجتناب از طریق فرستادن/درهم ميآميخت.
-Free VPN accounts for Iranians - protect your privacy & avoid blockings. https://www.hideway.eu
-حساب vpn آزاد برای ايرانيان حریم شخصی شما حفظ https://www.hideway.eu
-When grabbed by police, remember to go completely limp, so it takes 4 or more to carry you away.
-هنگامي كه مر دميکه توسط پوليس, به خاطر دارم كه كاملا فلج برود, طول میکشد 4 يا بيشتر به شما را حمل دور شد.
-Make photocopies of Neda's face and hand it to police, army, guards. Paste it on walls, cars, doors. LET THEM SEE HER FACE.
-نبوت ختم را ندا و آن را به پلیس, ارتش و سپاه پاسداران است. خمير آن بر ديوارها, خودرو, صورت گرفت. اجازه بدهید آنها بود.
-Use paint on surveillance cameras, use mirrors to disorient shooting police. NON VIOLENT RESISTANCE ONLY.
-استفاده از دوربین های نظارت در نقاشي كند, استفاده از آينههاي ناجورشدن به تيراندازي پليس. فقط مقاومت کرد.
-Change your location and time to TEHRAN to confuse the Basij. Bury them in information...old school hack style.
-تغيير محل و زمان را به تهران را به نیروی مقاومت بسیج نباشیم. اطلاعات ايشان را دفن.. كهني مدرسه سبك میشود.
-Hold up your QU'RAN!!! Let the police see you are all the same people, don't let them think you are a mob. You are Iranians, just like them!
-شما نگاه قرآن! ! ! پليس میبینم شما همه همين مردم, اجازه ندهند که آنها فکر می کنید که توده مردم. شما ايراني هستند, درست مانند آنها!
Feel free to comment more info in my comments section, be aware that this blog is archived by the Australian Government- so NO COMMENTS ENCOURAGING VIOLENCE.
Thanks.
Please read this Twitter timeline from NiteOwl, for an idea of what has been developing...
1. There was a protest planned today at Enghelab Square in Tehran. However, the whole square was filled with police. The police attacked, beat down on protesters and dispersed them with tear gas. However, the whole city of Tehran was crowded with protesters. As we reported in the last brief, the IRG had expressly been given the authority by Khamenei to violently crush the protests if any start to take place after Friday. (After the protests were over, it has now been confirmed that tanks have rolled in Tehran late at night/early morning)
2. Other protests took place in Isfahan, Tabriz, Shiraz, Mashhad, Rasht and Ahvaz. Protesters were attacked in all the above mentioned cities as well as in other areas of Iran. The situation seemed to be extremely critical in the cities of Shiraz, Tabriz, Isfahan and Rasht. There were incidents of violence against protesters in Ahvaz as well. Reports have also come in of protesters lashing back at IRG and Baseej with at least one Baseej base in Tehran being burnt by angry protesters. Molotov bombs have been used during the protests on a wider scale than before by protesters. It has also been confirmed that in Mashhad, a very large number Mullahs accompanied the protesters.
3. The government claimed as the protests were continuing that a suicide bomber had attacked Imam Khomeini’s shrine. They also claimed that many people had been injured and killed in the incident. However, sources have not confirmed any such attack. We cannot at this point confirm or deny whether any attack on the shrine took place from all our sources. Iranian TV continues to claim this attack has indeed taken place. MSM might have more on this, but treat it with caution.
4. During the protest, helicopters dropped a strange liquid on protesters that we’re still trying to determine the nature of. It has been claimed variously that the liquid was tear gas. Some sources have told us that people who’ve had the liquid contact their skin have developed burns on those spots. But as of yet, we cannot positively identify it.
5. In Tehran, Baseej and possibly IRG forces burnt down a mosque with protesters trapped inside, according to sources. They could not confirm if any protester had actually died or had been injured during the incident.
6. Even though larger protests have subsided, there are still people out on the streets in Tehran and other cities. It is being claimed by sources that the wave of arrests is continuing even at 1 AM Iran time. People are chanting Allah o Akbar and calling Ahmadinejad an oppressor as well blaming Khamenei for supporting him. Throughout the day, the number of people who were arrested has remained unconfirmed, but sources claim that thousands have been arrested, consensus being on around 3,000 and possibly more. Running the numbers and adding them to our previous number of 5,000 arrested before today, the number of people that have been so far seems to have reached somewhere between 5 and 10 thousand. The number of people killed during the protests is anyone’s guess. Sources have confirmed at least 4 death that were recorded on video in Tehran. But the number could be much higher, probably somewhere around 100 or maybe even more as militias have been seen directly firing at crowds of people on several occasions by our sources. The government is not releasing any data on that as of yet.
7. The Iranian Revolutionary Guard has been the spearhead of all the attacks within Tehran. The Basij is helping them. As we had reported before, the IRG had been authorized by Khamenei to use extensive force if necessary to quell the protests. The police have this time also been active in the suppression of the protests but not to the level of the IRG and the Baseej. The remainder of the military has so far taken no action.
8. It has also been claimed that IRG is soon to take complete control of the capital and possibly the major cities where protests have taken place. This is said to be a measure in order to stop protests from happening in the first place. Confirmation is still not as positive as it is in other cases reported here.
9. Mousavi was present during the protests but was unable to deliver his prepared speech. He said that he is ready to be martyred for the cause of people. Reports of his detention and freedom have come from various sources but it seems that for now he is safe. He has called for a general strike throughout Iran.
10. Reformists and high-ranking Mousavi supporters are now being arrested in massive numbers. Sources claim that the Iranian government wants to completely isolate Mousavi so he has no way of contacting the outside world. However, Mousavi continues to manage to get messages out using his sources.
11. As the injured were shipped to hospitals, many were directly taken away into custody without even reaching the hospital. Sources also confirm that government forces then went to hospitals and picked up the injured, hauling them out and taking them to undisclosed locations. The arrest of injured protesters is so massive that our sources have pleaded with everyone inside Iran to NOT go to hospitals.
12. Several embassies in Tehran opened up their doors to injured protesters. They include the embassies of Slovenia, Dutch, Italian, British, Australian, Romania, Czech Republic, Denmark and Germany. There are rumors of other embassies opening their doors to injured protesters as well; however, they cannot be positively confirmed. It has also been confirmed that the Canadian Embassy has closed its doors and turned away injured protesters and told them they are not accepting anyone. (Edit: However, now - 4 hours after the writing of this brief - some secondary sources claim Canada is accepting them and have put on a request for more doctors to come and join them in helping injured protesters.)
13. It has also been reported that Baseej, IRG and police have been stationed around the embassy to intercept any protesters who try to enter the embassies. Many people have so far been arrested on route or close to the embassies and taken to undisclosed location.
14. Sources confirmed that the government is taking forced confessions from arrested protesters and linking them to Western nations. The Iranian TV showed confessions of several protesters. One protester claimed that he had been taking orders from sources in the UK. The TV news stories have been so far blaming the UK and Israel for the violence and have hinted at possible involvement by the US government as well.
15. The Iranian Ministry of Interior has taken extreme measures in order to protect its internet services and data from hackers trying to sabotage their systems. Most websites helping Iranian online protesters have pleaded to all hackers not to DDoS any government-run websites or internet services as this would also create severe problems for Iranians using internet as well and quite possibly might cut off connection to them.
Lastly, follow this link for info on cyberwar.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Jetsetting vampires, and the cold peaceful unconsciousness.
When you're unconscious, you realize just how dirty reality is.
At least, when you're coming back around you do. And you don't need to be lying in a gutter to realize this. You can be in a well appointed penthouse apartment at the top end of town, with mood lighting and double glazing.
Reality is still dirty.
Your sight comes back, and your consciousness is assaulted with the harshness and brightness of everyday low-level lighting. You feel confused and upset, it feels like all the light in the world is being forced through your eyes and into your mind, too much light to comprehend, too bright to actually see anything.
And after a while of this, you realize there is a soundtrack to all of this, and it just pisses you off, because you preferred it in the dark and the silence. The noise of gentle music or concerned voices grates in your ears, and you struggle to understand what it is and what it all means.
And you get your head around it, the noise and the visual pollution, and you realize that everything is normal again, and there's nothing to worry about.
It's just life. Dirty, noisy life.
I'm craving that peaceful place in the darkness right now. Not in some teenage gothic fantasy way. Not in an "I wish I was dead" way.
I just want some peace, some peace without noise, without light, without the world in it, dirtying it all up. Or even just a heavy rainstorm- natures white noise.
I ran out of painkillers last night. I had a tooth extracted, it took the guy 25 minutes to wrestle it out. Finding it hard to concentrate.
And today...well. Today.
I made a couple of friends a few years back, people who live overseas, and basically are great people. Big, welcoming hearts, humorous natures, witty observations, all those good things. I met them through a couple of septic vampires who only exist to get what they can from good people, and leave them feeling raped.
They have a real talent with it.
I don't want to waste time remembering them, but the friends we shared, that's another thing. They got raped too, eventually. And when they did, they realised just how long they'd been getting shafted for. Just how much back-alley disrespect had been eventuating. How poisonous the broth hath become.
So they did what anybody in their right mind would do, and told the vampires to fuck off. Not welcome, sayonnara. "Get thee behind me...", and all that.
A couple of late night conversations over the internet were undertaken at length, to discover the true depth of the disease, how much I knew, how many of my warnings went unheeded.
And they had made their case clear to me in those talks- the vampires would be no more. The good people were angry, to the point they even relished the thought of some power other than karma dishing out a little street justice, just to even things out for the citizenry somewhat. I always assured them karma will have its way, the truth will out, and the vampires would enjoy an early bedtime with no dessert.
Years passed.
And today, on facebook, I saw that they were all friends again. Somehow, the vampires had ingratiated themselves back into the circle, and myself being in that circle, suddenly feeling polluted by it.
Delete.
The story should end there, really, because I've been alive long enough to know better than to be surprised. People are painfully weak, and they love nothing more than some A-Grade bullshit to spice of the flavour of an otherwise bland day-to-day. But these people? I thought they were somehow higher up than that.
But they're not.
To forgive is divine, of course, but to forgive an entity that is still wearing a leopardskin coat is plain offensive. The spots are the same, as will be the result.
So I'm viciously angry. Angry that these good people have laid down to get another dose of hot air and ballast, and in return to get nothing but a few stories, and a good using. What can I do? Nothing. I said what I said years ago for a reason. Nothing's changed, and I mean nothing.
I keep giving people too much credit, that they will be strong, they'll desire the right path, they'll be happy with less of a fairytale, but more of a solid grounding.
But everybody wants Star Wars, and no one wants to wait.
You can write that down.
Do I feel superior?
No.
I feel weakened and infected by the weakness all around me.
Will I change?
Hell no!
I crave reality, and I don't mind walking a difficult road when it leads somewhere worthwhile.
But in the meantime, some silence and some darkness would be so greatly appreciated.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
At least, when you're coming back around you do. And you don't need to be lying in a gutter to realize this. You can be in a well appointed penthouse apartment at the top end of town, with mood lighting and double glazing.
Reality is still dirty.
Your sight comes back, and your consciousness is assaulted with the harshness and brightness of everyday low-level lighting. You feel confused and upset, it feels like all the light in the world is being forced through your eyes and into your mind, too much light to comprehend, too bright to actually see anything.
And after a while of this, you realize there is a soundtrack to all of this, and it just pisses you off, because you preferred it in the dark and the silence. The noise of gentle music or concerned voices grates in your ears, and you struggle to understand what it is and what it all means.
And you get your head around it, the noise and the visual pollution, and you realize that everything is normal again, and there's nothing to worry about.
It's just life. Dirty, noisy life.
I'm craving that peaceful place in the darkness right now. Not in some teenage gothic fantasy way. Not in an "I wish I was dead" way.
I just want some peace, some peace without noise, without light, without the world in it, dirtying it all up. Or even just a heavy rainstorm- natures white noise.
I ran out of painkillers last night. I had a tooth extracted, it took the guy 25 minutes to wrestle it out. Finding it hard to concentrate.
And today...well. Today.
I made a couple of friends a few years back, people who live overseas, and basically are great people. Big, welcoming hearts, humorous natures, witty observations, all those good things. I met them through a couple of septic vampires who only exist to get what they can from good people, and leave them feeling raped.
They have a real talent with it.
I don't want to waste time remembering them, but the friends we shared, that's another thing. They got raped too, eventually. And when they did, they realised just how long they'd been getting shafted for. Just how much back-alley disrespect had been eventuating. How poisonous the broth hath become.
So they did what anybody in their right mind would do, and told the vampires to fuck off. Not welcome, sayonnara. "Get thee behind me...", and all that.
A couple of late night conversations over the internet were undertaken at length, to discover the true depth of the disease, how much I knew, how many of my warnings went unheeded.
And they had made their case clear to me in those talks- the vampires would be no more. The good people were angry, to the point they even relished the thought of some power other than karma dishing out a little street justice, just to even things out for the citizenry somewhat. I always assured them karma will have its way, the truth will out, and the vampires would enjoy an early bedtime with no dessert.
Years passed.
And today, on facebook, I saw that they were all friends again. Somehow, the vampires had ingratiated themselves back into the circle, and myself being in that circle, suddenly feeling polluted by it.
Delete.
The story should end there, really, because I've been alive long enough to know better than to be surprised. People are painfully weak, and they love nothing more than some A-Grade bullshit to spice of the flavour of an otherwise bland day-to-day. But these people? I thought they were somehow higher up than that.
But they're not.
To forgive is divine, of course, but to forgive an entity that is still wearing a leopardskin coat is plain offensive. The spots are the same, as will be the result.
So I'm viciously angry. Angry that these good people have laid down to get another dose of hot air and ballast, and in return to get nothing but a few stories, and a good using. What can I do? Nothing. I said what I said years ago for a reason. Nothing's changed, and I mean nothing.
I keep giving people too much credit, that they will be strong, they'll desire the right path, they'll be happy with less of a fairytale, but more of a solid grounding.
But everybody wants Star Wars, and no one wants to wait.
You can write that down.
Do I feel superior?
No.
I feel weakened and infected by the weakness all around me.
Will I change?
Hell no!
I crave reality, and I don't mind walking a difficult road when it leads somewhere worthwhile.
But in the meantime, some silence and some darkness would be so greatly appreciated.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
Friday, March 27, 2009
March recap.
It was my birthday this month, 38.
I have grown so much, and simultaneously become more retarded than ever.
I have been learning a lot about ego, how it holds me back not only from being genuinely happy or productive, but how it has even crept into my guitar playing- how it has convinced me of many untruths that have been halting my progress past the point I've been for years. Being miserable is one thing, but if something fucks with my ability to be a better player, it's outta here! I don't know why I was surprised- it's not like the Universe has different laws for different parts of our lives.
It's amazing how insidious and redundant this ego thing is. How we carry it around with us, like a parasite, and it infects our lives, our decision making process, our happiness. Is it the conduit by which the Universe introduces confusion into our lives? Is it the necessary dark to balance out the light? Or is it a psychological holdover from a time when we needed that function? Any comments would be most appreciated.
I have to get my head together, apparently I will be playing overseas for six months out of the year, and in Australia for the other six. Back on the road, back to living out of a guitar case. Obviously, I can't wait. I've been enduring suburbia for a year now, and it has felt more like Siberia (without the physical torture).
I'm not cut out for this 'living with lots of other people thing'. I almost gave my Mother a heart attack when I told her I would like to move out to the country when I get back from touring again. Walking through a shopping mall, being that close to other humans, I really don't like it. My girl doesn't like it either, so we don't feel too freakish over it. At festivals, even just in the city, on public transport, the physical proximity to other people makes me feel so uncomfortable. And the behaviour of people just isn't getting any more enlightened. Loud, self centered, inconsiderate, smelly people. Everywhere. There is a conspiracy theory circulating lately that the reason Army Black Hawk helicopters are doing training exercises in Melbourne city lately is to rehearse their future mission of reducing the population, through spraying of toxins. I just thought "That makes sense". Sorry about that.
This musical journey thing just keeps blowing my head apart. People that are total heroes of mine look are all of a sudden negotiating with me (through their management) to play in this band. People who I'd see on tv over the last year and think "Man it would be cool to talk to them". Now I get to share a stage with them, it just makes everything that has come before feel worthwhile- the big picture at it's most panoramic. I all of a sudden identify with Henry Rollins, so chuffed with where being Hank has taken him. Scratching my head, thinking "How did this happen- I LOVE it!"
It also applies a lot of pressure to me to piss excellence, and I'm a bit out of practice. But if there's one thing I'm good at, it's coming through at the last minute.
I was thinking about this earlier today...about how lucky I have been to have seen and been all of the disparate elements of my life so far. And how honestly with most of them, I had no right whatsoever to be in those situation in the first place. My style is, and always has been, to find something that looks interesting, whether it's a job, or a skill necessary to a particular situation, or a hot new girlfriend, and to walk right into it (so to speak). I have held down work for which I had no experience whatsoever, but whoever was hiring, clearly didn't know that.
Employer- "Can you do this?"
Me- "Totally."
The English call that "Blagging it". I call it "Earning money to eat".
Speaking of eating, my girl is a ridiculously good influence on me, and has reignited my waylaid vegetarianism. I can't say I'm doing it for the lambs and baby calves of this world, because I never eat lamb, veal, or anything that is a baby anyway. Or fish. Or anything from the sea. But if you were beef or chicken, you were on the menu.
So now I have stopped eating them as well, and I'm glad. To be honest it isn't for environmentalism, because a comet could wipe us out at any moment (and a few weeks ago one almost did!). I just feel like it's right, and also that eating meat just isn't necessary. I don't need it, the research says it's actually bad for you, that we weren't designed to eat it after all (despite the ads sponsored by the meat board, hiring Sam Neill to put a pseudo-scientific face on the subject).
Whatever. I'm not here to preach. But I feel better for committing to this again, after falling off for the last ten years. Yup.
Speaking of animals and suffering, I feel quite lost the last few days. My emotions are all over the place, and the reason is because I killed my 6 week old kitten, Earl.
Let's be straight here- I didn't mean to.
Lately, him and his 5 siblings have all found their legs, and became incredibly adept at launching themselves at high speed, seemingly teleporting into places they just did not exist in one millisecond before. And they love human feet. It's a bad mix.
I was on my tip toes hanging something on a wall. I looked behind me and counted 6 kittens in various parts of the room, looked forward again to check what i was hanging was still in place, then stepped back. I felt a horrible crunching sound, and I spun around to see the pick of the litter lying on the floor, silent, his nerves making him writhe and twist in the most awful ways. I dropped to my knees and gently touched his cheek, as blood poured from the side of his head, from his cracked skull. His brain was hanging out of one of his ears, and he had the most heart breaking look of shock on his face, as his already dead body tried to kick a couple more times. I had crushed his skull and broke his neck at the same time, and weighing in at 91 kilograms, it would have happened before he knew what hit him. That doesn't make anyone feel better though.
I did that. It's one of those times you'd give anything for a time machine.
He was only 6 weeks old, my girl and I were there when he was born, ripping open amniotic sacs and severing umblical cords. He was the first one we named. I can't get the image out of my mind, or the physical feeling of killing him. He trusted me and ran to me whenever I walked into the room. He would purr when I cuddled him, he was going to be the best cat. And my guilt and remorse couldn't be more complete. My girl doesn't blame me, and my Mother said these things just happen, even when you're trying to be careful, but of course my mind always comes up with a thousand things I could have done to prevent it. The other kittens all still love me, I don't think they understood what was happening. Makes me feel worse.
My girl cried and cried, and it was the first time I had ever seen that. It was important for her, to let it out, but my God it added so much more pain to the situation. I tried to be strong, but I cried some guilty tears much later in the night.
So, R.I.P. Earl, 16th February, 2009- 25 March, 2009. You're my favourite, and I will miss you more than your little kitten face would ever understand.
I hope April turns out a lot less destructive.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
I have grown so much, and simultaneously become more retarded than ever.
I have been learning a lot about ego, how it holds me back not only from being genuinely happy or productive, but how it has even crept into my guitar playing- how it has convinced me of many untruths that have been halting my progress past the point I've been for years. Being miserable is one thing, but if something fucks with my ability to be a better player, it's outta here! I don't know why I was surprised- it's not like the Universe has different laws for different parts of our lives.
It's amazing how insidious and redundant this ego thing is. How we carry it around with us, like a parasite, and it infects our lives, our decision making process, our happiness. Is it the conduit by which the Universe introduces confusion into our lives? Is it the necessary dark to balance out the light? Or is it a psychological holdover from a time when we needed that function? Any comments would be most appreciated.
I have to get my head together, apparently I will be playing overseas for six months out of the year, and in Australia for the other six. Back on the road, back to living out of a guitar case. Obviously, I can't wait. I've been enduring suburbia for a year now, and it has felt more like Siberia (without the physical torture).
I'm not cut out for this 'living with lots of other people thing'. I almost gave my Mother a heart attack when I told her I would like to move out to the country when I get back from touring again. Walking through a shopping mall, being that close to other humans, I really don't like it. My girl doesn't like it either, so we don't feel too freakish over it. At festivals, even just in the city, on public transport, the physical proximity to other people makes me feel so uncomfortable. And the behaviour of people just isn't getting any more enlightened. Loud, self centered, inconsiderate, smelly people. Everywhere. There is a conspiracy theory circulating lately that the reason Army Black Hawk helicopters are doing training exercises in Melbourne city lately is to rehearse their future mission of reducing the population, through spraying of toxins. I just thought "That makes sense". Sorry about that.
This musical journey thing just keeps blowing my head apart. People that are total heroes of mine look are all of a sudden negotiating with me (through their management) to play in this band. People who I'd see on tv over the last year and think "Man it would be cool to talk to them". Now I get to share a stage with them, it just makes everything that has come before feel worthwhile- the big picture at it's most panoramic. I all of a sudden identify with Henry Rollins, so chuffed with where being Hank has taken him. Scratching my head, thinking "How did this happen- I LOVE it!"
It also applies a lot of pressure to me to piss excellence, and I'm a bit out of practice. But if there's one thing I'm good at, it's coming through at the last minute.
I was thinking about this earlier today...about how lucky I have been to have seen and been all of the disparate elements of my life so far. And how honestly with most of them, I had no right whatsoever to be in those situation in the first place. My style is, and always has been, to find something that looks interesting, whether it's a job, or a skill necessary to a particular situation, or a hot new girlfriend, and to walk right into it (so to speak). I have held down work for which I had no experience whatsoever, but whoever was hiring, clearly didn't know that.
Employer- "Can you do this?"
Me- "Totally."
The English call that "Blagging it". I call it "Earning money to eat".
Speaking of eating, my girl is a ridiculously good influence on me, and has reignited my waylaid vegetarianism. I can't say I'm doing it for the lambs and baby calves of this world, because I never eat lamb, veal, or anything that is a baby anyway. Or fish. Or anything from the sea. But if you were beef or chicken, you were on the menu.
So now I have stopped eating them as well, and I'm glad. To be honest it isn't for environmentalism, because a comet could wipe us out at any moment (and a few weeks ago one almost did!). I just feel like it's right, and also that eating meat just isn't necessary. I don't need it, the research says it's actually bad for you, that we weren't designed to eat it after all (despite the ads sponsored by the meat board, hiring Sam Neill to put a pseudo-scientific face on the subject).
Whatever. I'm not here to preach. But I feel better for committing to this again, after falling off for the last ten years. Yup.
Speaking of animals and suffering, I feel quite lost the last few days. My emotions are all over the place, and the reason is because I killed my 6 week old kitten, Earl.
Let's be straight here- I didn't mean to.
Lately, him and his 5 siblings have all found their legs, and became incredibly adept at launching themselves at high speed, seemingly teleporting into places they just did not exist in one millisecond before. And they love human feet. It's a bad mix.
I was on my tip toes hanging something on a wall. I looked behind me and counted 6 kittens in various parts of the room, looked forward again to check what i was hanging was still in place, then stepped back. I felt a horrible crunching sound, and I spun around to see the pick of the litter lying on the floor, silent, his nerves making him writhe and twist in the most awful ways. I dropped to my knees and gently touched his cheek, as blood poured from the side of his head, from his cracked skull. His brain was hanging out of one of his ears, and he had the most heart breaking look of shock on his face, as his already dead body tried to kick a couple more times. I had crushed his skull and broke his neck at the same time, and weighing in at 91 kilograms, it would have happened before he knew what hit him. That doesn't make anyone feel better though.
I did that. It's one of those times you'd give anything for a time machine.
He was only 6 weeks old, my girl and I were there when he was born, ripping open amniotic sacs and severing umblical cords. He was the first one we named. I can't get the image out of my mind, or the physical feeling of killing him. He trusted me and ran to me whenever I walked into the room. He would purr when I cuddled him, he was going to be the best cat. And my guilt and remorse couldn't be more complete. My girl doesn't blame me, and my Mother said these things just happen, even when you're trying to be careful, but of course my mind always comes up with a thousand things I could have done to prevent it. The other kittens all still love me, I don't think they understood what was happening. Makes me feel worse.
My girl cried and cried, and it was the first time I had ever seen that. It was important for her, to let it out, but my God it added so much more pain to the situation. I tried to be strong, but I cried some guilty tears much later in the night.
So, R.I.P. Earl, 16th February, 2009- 25 March, 2009. You're my favourite, and I will miss you more than your little kitten face would ever understand.
I hope April turns out a lot less destructive.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Magnification and Magnificence.
I'm back in Melbourne, I live here again.
Perth taught me so much, which is what it was for, and I am so grateful for those lessons, opportunities to shed my skin, and grow more. All clichés, I know, but as I say, they exist for a reason.
I remember a year of work, hard work. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. I broke down to my lowest point, explored the nature of regret, and as ashamed as I am of ever having sunk so low, I'm proud I made it out alive.
Onward and upward.
There wasn't anything I could salvage from that time. I made some friends, and thanks to the magic of the internerd, we stay in touch. I own more useless objects and status symbols, which more and more I feel are like lead weights around my ankles. I've made the removals industry rich in a time of recession. But my reason for going there in the first place has relegated itself to history, no chance for peace, no way to undo some of what was done. It's out of my hands, and as much of a shame as that is, I've moved on.
That's all you can do.
So here I am, and I am dating a celebrity, which my ego doesn't enjoy at all. Having to wrestle with questions like how would I feel if she was asked to go on tour for 2 years without me, What do I think about her joining one of the most succesful bands in the country, Can I cope with all the sycophants and associated spoken ephemera? This time around though, I feel like I have finally bonded with the kind of person who is so unashamedly real, so all about doing right, and being honest, speaking honestly, thinking honestly. And that makes trust. So as strange a journey as it is, not being the rock star sterotype for a change, having to defer status, be happy for your partners success, I feel safe, and that's a whole lot of something good.
"Good things".
I'm a professional guitar player again. It makes me feel calm to know my revenue stream emanates from my eight fingers, from my own two hands. I feel talented and worthwhile, and in control of my destiny. I have faith and hope and love, and all of those things people sing about in Church, albeit mine being in a radical Atheist sense. I have started writing music again, after a long year of not, and I have been amazed at just how well it has all turned out. That limb didn't atrophy- Hallelujah! And my writing partner is my life partner- there's a love story in that.
We met through honest mutual admiration, it's a rare thing for either of us to be blown away by another musician, floating around out there in the miasma of other musicians. And through that exploration of just how far we could connect musically, love happened. Sure, there was always attraction, but more than that, we both had to feel like it was worth stepping up to that next level, as we both had the feeling it was serious and essential and not the kind of situation we would ever be inclined to step down from again. We had to be sure.
So like cautious dancers in a dusty and warm theatre, we allowed our abstract adagio to unfold, forgetting the basse danses of our respective pasts, the endless degages and effaces, and of course, enrosques; moving slowly closer, gauging the distance, like lovestruck engineers, meeting in the middle of an unfinished span, the two parts finally coming together, after years of high wind and raging waters below.
Similes can be anything, like a raging thesaurus -a word dinosaur.
And so here I am, happy and safe and calm and fulfilled and energised and excitable again. Looking forward to things, instead of an endless highway of sameness. And things that have started to happen, as opposed to things that one hopes for but never gets close to.
I have killed so much of my debt I no longer feel like I'm drowning, and I've gotta say, that's a great feeling. Also to know the rest of that balance is on its deathbed, awaiting the inevitable scythe of final payment.
I kill it, not the other way around...sounds like a line from the next Terminator movie- "You killed my Father, you tried to kill my Mother. You will NOT kill me!" Still, the comparisons between G.E. corporations Finance division and homocidal half human robots don't end there...
So what else?
I'm bored with Facebook, I'm so hungry to find something on the internet worth diving into...graffiti is all the same now, music- predictable, I need a good graphics or art site. Suggestions?
Mum, if you're reading this- I am exercising and eating properly.
There's your update.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
Perth taught me so much, which is what it was for, and I am so grateful for those lessons, opportunities to shed my skin, and grow more. All clichés, I know, but as I say, they exist for a reason.
I remember a year of work, hard work. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. I broke down to my lowest point, explored the nature of regret, and as ashamed as I am of ever having sunk so low, I'm proud I made it out alive.
Onward and upward.
There wasn't anything I could salvage from that time. I made some friends, and thanks to the magic of the internerd, we stay in touch. I own more useless objects and status symbols, which more and more I feel are like lead weights around my ankles. I've made the removals industry rich in a time of recession. But my reason for going there in the first place has relegated itself to history, no chance for peace, no way to undo some of what was done. It's out of my hands, and as much of a shame as that is, I've moved on.
That's all you can do.
So here I am, and I am dating a celebrity, which my ego doesn't enjoy at all. Having to wrestle with questions like how would I feel if she was asked to go on tour for 2 years without me, What do I think about her joining one of the most succesful bands in the country, Can I cope with all the sycophants and associated spoken ephemera? This time around though, I feel like I have finally bonded with the kind of person who is so unashamedly real, so all about doing right, and being honest, speaking honestly, thinking honestly. And that makes trust. So as strange a journey as it is, not being the rock star sterotype for a change, having to defer status, be happy for your partners success, I feel safe, and that's a whole lot of something good.
"Good things".
I'm a professional guitar player again. It makes me feel calm to know my revenue stream emanates from my eight fingers, from my own two hands. I feel talented and worthwhile, and in control of my destiny. I have faith and hope and love, and all of those things people sing about in Church, albeit mine being in a radical Atheist sense. I have started writing music again, after a long year of not, and I have been amazed at just how well it has all turned out. That limb didn't atrophy- Hallelujah! And my writing partner is my life partner- there's a love story in that.
We met through honest mutual admiration, it's a rare thing for either of us to be blown away by another musician, floating around out there in the miasma of other musicians. And through that exploration of just how far we could connect musically, love happened. Sure, there was always attraction, but more than that, we both had to feel like it was worth stepping up to that next level, as we both had the feeling it was serious and essential and not the kind of situation we would ever be inclined to step down from again. We had to be sure.
So like cautious dancers in a dusty and warm theatre, we allowed our abstract adagio to unfold, forgetting the basse danses of our respective pasts, the endless degages and effaces, and of course, enrosques; moving slowly closer, gauging the distance, like lovestruck engineers, meeting in the middle of an unfinished span, the two parts finally coming together, after years of high wind and raging waters below.
Similes can be anything, like a raging thesaurus -a word dinosaur.
And so here I am, happy and safe and calm and fulfilled and energised and excitable again. Looking forward to things, instead of an endless highway of sameness. And things that have started to happen, as opposed to things that one hopes for but never gets close to.
I have killed so much of my debt I no longer feel like I'm drowning, and I've gotta say, that's a great feeling. Also to know the rest of that balance is on its deathbed, awaiting the inevitable scythe of final payment.
I kill it, not the other way around...sounds like a line from the next Terminator movie- "You killed my Father, you tried to kill my Mother. You will NOT kill me!" Still, the comparisons between G.E. corporations Finance division and homocidal half human robots don't end there...
So what else?
I'm bored with Facebook, I'm so hungry to find something on the internet worth diving into...graffiti is all the same now, music- predictable, I need a good graphics or art site. Suggestions?
Mum, if you're reading this- I am exercising and eating properly.
There's your update.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Australia- not the movie.
So there I was, In Istanbul Turkey, and I had my money and my passport stolen.
Not by Turks, by the way. I love the Turks.
And I went to my embassy, and asked for some help, in return for the tens of thousands of tax dollars I have sunk into the country of Australia. I asked for a loan, so I could buy a new passport. A loan, not a gift.
The word from Canberra was simply "no".
No, go fuck yourself Mr Man. You can wander back out into the streets of Istanbul, and sleep on them for all we care. Luckily, I knew people, and those people made a lot of phone calls, and asses got into gear, and I got my loan.
But I won't ever forget that moment and associated feeling, of total abandonment, of being basically not welcome in your own country.
And it was from that point I started to evaluate exactly, what is this thing I call my country? I was born here, I have paid to be a part of it, I have even been told by the same Government that left me to the wolves that I am "...an integral icon in the cultural landscape of Australia".
So what is this Australia?
And I guess it depends on who you ask.
There is a facebook application called "I love Australia", and its home page is a place where you can leave messages about your take on the place. The discussion board is home to topics like 'Should Trouble makers be sent home to their own country?', and 'What is Australia becoming?'
And I went to my embassy, and asked for some help, in return for the tens of thousands of tax dollars I have sunk into the country of Australia. I asked for a loan, so I could buy a new passport. A loan, not a gift.
The word from Canberra was simply "no".
No, go fuck yourself Mr Man. You can wander back out into the streets of Istanbul, and sleep on them for all we care. Luckily, I knew people, and those people made a lot of phone calls, and asses got into gear, and I got my loan.
But I won't ever forget that moment and associated feeling, of total abandonment, of being basically not welcome in your own country.
And it was from that point I started to evaluate exactly, what is this thing I call my country? I was born here, I have paid to be a part of it, I have even been told by the same Government that left me to the wolves that I am "...an integral icon in the cultural landscape of Australia".
So what is this Australia?
And I guess it depends on who you ask.
There is a facebook application called "I love Australia", and its home page is a place where you can leave messages about your take on the place. The discussion board is home to topics like 'Should Trouble makers be sent home to their own country?', and 'What is Australia becoming?'
Reading it just made me cringe. I am so ashamed to live on the same piece of dirt as the majority of these people. People who believe you have to play sports and eat barbeques and drive V8's in order to belong here. People who think that immigrants or refugees need to find somewhere else to stay.
There are people in this country who adorn their vehicles with this closed minded shit.
At this exact moment, the Pakistani's next door are hanging out in a typically hot Western Australian night, eating bbq and singing 'Against all odds' on the guitar. Thing is, they're working on the mines the rest of the time, and couldn't be less Australian. They are from Pakistan, they're Muslim, and by my reckoning, they're allright.
Does acting in a certain manner make us Australian?
Is it really necessary as some jingoistic fucks put forward, that immigrants speak fluent English and renounce their traditional religion before they move here?
Or could we maybe learn something from these culturally different people instead?
I'd love to say I don't know what people mean when they say they are scared of a future where 'traditional' (and by traditional, they mean "white) Australians are in the minority. Or where we all have to become Hindu or Muslim or Zoroastrian or whatever. I do know what they mean. They like the dominant culture because it's what they're used to, and they would like it to stay that way. And that's cool. But excluding people from doing the same thing they're used to, just because they come here is every bit as Draconian.
There is a growing trend since the Cronulla riots, where kids get the Southern Cross tattooed on them somewhere, or sticker it to their car, or wear it on their shirt. It's a flag, a nationalistic brand that stands for white Australia. It stands for being closed minded, xenophobic, and a fan of revisionist history.
It's the same as the swastica that Edward Norton wore in 'American History X'.
"See this? It means 'not welcome.'"
Now before you think I am saying that all kids from The Shire are Nazi's, I'm not. Hitler was an advocate of Imperialism/Colonialism, and seeing as the message locally is more "Fuck off" than "We're coming to get you in your own country", the similarity ends there.
But if you think I give half a crap what kids with southern Cross tattoos think, you're wrong too.
Australia Day is upon us, with all the flag waving, commercial cock thrusting, anti anything that doesn't fit into the narrow framework of the popular Australian conception mania it encourages every other year.
And what is it for?
What exactly are we proud of?
Because a country stands on the broken backs of dead criminals, who weren't in the main criminals at all, just poverty stricken and desperate?
A country stands where a country already stood, for tens of thousands of years before my Dutch ancestors rolled in, then decided they didn't want the place?
A country stands full of so many creeds, colours, and concepts, that any unifying banner over us is rendered ridiculous.
I'm really tired, I'm not going in-depth into anything right now. I guess I want to say "I hate flags", and "Being proud of a country just because you live in it is sad and desperate". I'm saying check out the Wikipedia article on Nationalism here or the Stanford University Philosphy Department's article here, and see what you think about it all.
I want to say, for something that is meant to be so inclusive and gather all of us inhabitants under a banner of togetherness, being Australian has never been a more divisive subject.
And I want to say I'm over people who never think an original thought in their lives proudly displaying their idiocy on moving vehicles, talkback radio, and in newspaper letters to the editor.
You people frighten me, I am not you, and by your reckoning, I am as far from Australian as you can get.
Quick- send me to Afghanistan, with the rest of my kind.
Fuck you Australia.
This is knifey, from 'the internet.'
Graf paper ark scrolls.
When you're quiet you can hear it.
It keeps you awake the night before a job interview. It makes it hard to concentrate when you're trying to do your taxes. It's louder when you're fucking, when Van Halen comes on the radio, when your best friend calls you from their car mid road trip a thousand miles away.
That thud thud thudding, steady radio static enveloping your every waking moment from the back of your consciousness, reminding you of why we're all here. It accelerates with a glimpse, with a sound or a taste, and it leaves you breathless at times, swelling that gland that regulates hope.
...It speaks to us and drives us, it makes us be.
And right now it screams at me like a raised visor on a land speed record, it's all I know. It's making me gag, forcing more of itself into my lungs, and I love it. My ears vibrate to breaking point, I have tears on my cheeks, and my heart feels like it will burst. I can hear it's voice, it's sound, it's name.
And it repeats again and again, like vinyl, like an urgent sigh..."The Future".
Stop looking behind you, it's just dust now. Head for that light, because that's where you are already. Find yourself, and RISE...
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
It keeps you awake the night before a job interview. It makes it hard to concentrate when you're trying to do your taxes. It's louder when you're fucking, when Van Halen comes on the radio, when your best friend calls you from their car mid road trip a thousand miles away.
That thud thud thudding, steady radio static enveloping your every waking moment from the back of your consciousness, reminding you of why we're all here. It accelerates with a glimpse, with a sound or a taste, and it leaves you breathless at times, swelling that gland that regulates hope.
...It speaks to us and drives us, it makes us be.
And right now it screams at me like a raised visor on a land speed record, it's all I know. It's making me gag, forcing more of itself into my lungs, and I love it. My ears vibrate to breaking point, I have tears on my cheeks, and my heart feels like it will burst. I can hear it's voice, it's sound, it's name.
And it repeats again and again, like vinyl, like an urgent sigh..."The Future".
Stop looking behind you, it's just dust now. Head for that light, because that's where you are already. Find yourself, and RISE...
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Flirting with suburbia, aka: why do illiterate and poor people all know what gentrification is?
Kids are pretty stupid. They eat their own shit, get upset when they hurt themselves after doing stupid things that basically guarantee they will hurt themselves, and that sort of thing.
When you see an infant child, laying in its crib, watching avidly nothing in particular, it is actually reading the truths. The truth, in their big scrawly, flowing letters, the Universal precursor to Wild Style graffiti, sprayed across the very fabric of space, in invisible ink, that only invisible eyes can comprehend.
But mainly eat their own shit.
But even stupid kids know about the 'Fundamental Universal Ethical Truths', because like baby deer and even spiders, it is programmed into our DNA, like the desire to breed, and a prediliction for maintaining our state of being alive-ness.
The truths are those facts that, although not written anywhere in particular, are written everywhere. You just have to see them. Baby animals see them, hippies see some of them, musicians see all of them but prefer to ignore them. They are facts that are impossible to prove using propositional calculus, as, like God and aliens, the test of repeatability does not apply, and the hard evidence is few and far between (if that).
When you see an infant child, laying in its crib, watching avidly nothing in particular, it is actually reading the truths. The truth, in their big scrawly, flowing letters, the Universal precursor to Wild Style graffiti, sprayed across the very fabric of space, in invisible ink, that only invisible eyes can comprehend.
The truths are many, and so I will not list them. Besides, the list is in you anyway. But I will talk about one today, so sit on the floor and get comfortable. If you are in the ocean at the moment, sit on the ocean floor and get comfortable. But mainly get comfortable.
Fundamental Universal Ethical Truth # 3456455.
"When you raise the rental prices in traditionally creative and dynamic enclaves, the creatives that made said enclave creative and dynamic in the first place, will all be forced to move to whatever barren, lifeless industrial area that a) is affordable, and b) completely resembles what the enclave in question resembled when they first got there."
In short, Blockbuster, 7-11, and Starbucks will move in, all the graffiti and boutique stores and dogs in shop doorways and friggin actual culture will shut down or move. And you will be left with an expanse of grey space, of static, where all the music now sounds like a dial tone.
Even kids who eat their own shit can see this.
And so they spread out, just like the 12 tribes of Battlestar Galactica (the old one, not the new one which was turned into a steaming bucket of suck), or like the 12 tribes of Israel, or like the Dalai Lama. Some went overseas, some found a new enclave in which to plant seeds, and the rest?
They moved to suburbia.
I have always thought of suburbia as a dirty word. Cramped together, endless rows of houses, fluffy lawns, and sameness. I have been lucky, I grew up in wide open spaces, or in warehouses, or on the open road. Traditionally I have loved cities. I have loved living right in there among the bright lights and the ACTION. Feeling like I was a part of something amazing, which as I have grown older I realise wasn't the case at all, but it didn't make it any less fun.
The thought of living in a suburb, where you have to travel to get to anything, disconnected, no longer part of anything except maybe the rat race, has always provoked a knee-jerk reaction, a shiver up the spine, a hard swallow.
Living in a suburb is like saying "Game over". Like, "I'm done with trying to be somebody, I'm just gonna crawl over here and die a slow death of lawn mowing and ingesting television".
I know a lot of people would scratch their heads at this, but then a lot of people scratch their heads about a lot of things, and I don't care about any of that either.
Maybe I'm wrong, entirely probable. But when I think about suburbs, one emotion springs immediately to mind, and that emotion is sadness.
There's somthing fixed about a suburb, a massive block of mortgages, a population of individuals who are stuck together on a ship going nowhere, working their whole lives for a piece of something that will never take them anywhere but right there. Struggling for a holiday once a year to South East Asia, cars like anchors, holding the whole arrangement down like a rock solid but uninspired bassline from somebody who should know better. Dark at night, no sounds except thousands of frustrated dogs who are all too aware they shouldn't be kept like that, calling out to each other, singing staccato songs of captive misery, dreaming of running together. And all the cats loving that song, as they prowl. Home theatre systems broadcasting escapism, teenagers in bedrooms and bands in garages, plotting a way to break out.
Suburbs are like giving up.
They're like admitting to yourself and the bank that this is as good as life is gonna get, and there's no point gambling on it any longer.
Don't get me wrong, I understand the need for security. The peptic ulcers and sleeplesness, wondering how to spread such a tiny paycheck over such a vast expanse of life. I've just never let it dictate to me how things are actually going to be. That's my choice.
I have stayed in suburbs here and there, out if necessity.
I have walked those streets, and smelled the disinfectant. The total and utter lack of individuality, the Ikea and Bunnings and Super Cheap Auto Lego arrangements. Couldn't wait to get out. And I always did.
Counterpoint.
I have given years of my life to various cities around the world.
Turned up knowing no one, made a name for myself, invested innumerable hours in being a part of the scene, being known, being someone.
Then leaving, and no one even missing you, because all the decent people had moved on too. Searching for the same things I was.
Now, the idea of being in a bar or club full of 18 year olds sounds like a nightmare. Does anyone actually have any class nowadays? I'm frightened of young people now, because in the main they just don't think. At all. Thinking has become a disease, and the public is panicked. Going to the kinds of places I used to populate is a total non-option for me now. The things I used to find exciting about a city now I have seen a thousand times before and I'm just bored with it. I have witnessed all the stereotypes, I'm sick of the filth, and over the danger of it all. I don't want to fight any more, I almost feel like...
...moving to the suburbs and watching tv with the air conditioning on!
I said "almost".
I was in a suburb today, I stopped in to buy some lunch. The guy at the take out counter looked like he should be in a band, out on the highway, looking for life. But he arranged my food in the regulation manner, and bagged it up, and I just wanted to just take him from there and show him America. Or the Middle East. Or anywhere, where he might be able to find that spark that would drive him for the next 10 years. He was so sad, like he knew "This is it". That all life is is debt and an enormous flat panel tv, and porn and jerking off and cruising with the boys in a stupid car that looks like a boat and has far too much power for that few experiences.
I think about all the people I could have grown up to be, had I not escaped the suburbs of my past, all the thoughts i would have never thought. i wouldn't like any of those me's. It has taken exposure to so much of the world to get to where I am now. Otherwise I could have so easily been that guy in the take away shop.
So easily.
Because unless you are disabled in some way, we are all born the same. We can all become kings or paupers. Some of it is chance, but a lot of it is how much you put yourself out there to get hit face first with experiences. Your favourite band probably won't ring you if all you do is sit at home playing X Box, but if you're out there doing things, and they see them, then the chances are higher.
And it's hard to be out there doing things when you have to work am much as you do to pay off a house and a car and insurance and all the shit you buy to stop yourself from going insane because you live in a box in a row of other boxes.
My point?
I don't know, have a look at your priorities, maybe?
Because this world needs all the light and creaitivity and inspiration it can get, and unless you share it, we all lose.
If you want to just live by numbers, go ahead. But if there is a part of you that dreams about something bigger, don't think about it in private. Come do it where we can all see.
It's ok to earn less, despite what all the materialistic girls I meet say. That's ok, I don't care for materialistic girls, or at least the ones who think they have some god -given right to leech my money because they look pretty, but spend none of their own.
We're all way too geared around money. We need to be geared around life.
I think that's my point.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
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