Harmoni

pause

As you might have noticed, this blog isn't really that active. Those of you that understands swedish and don't mind readin about less personal issues can however do so here.

I am a bit grumpy. A lot of things just feels lite extra weight on my back and on my mind. And for no real reason. Just that people feels like putting it there.

I'm tired of people trying to change themselves. They are just mutilating themselves. I know it, because I've done it. And maybe that means I should be more understanding to people being in the same situation I was in 6-7 years ago, but I just find it tiresome.

It's one of those days. One of those days when my heart and soul feals chained up with a ball and chain. The can't lift. They can't sore. And it feels like it doesn't matter if the do or don't. I just feel... Like dead weight. Like lead.

I just don't need the aggravation. I don't need tension. I just want some peace and quiet. That all I want in the world. Peace and quiet and stability. But that is obviously too much to ask for.

I'm thinking about starting a blog in swedish, just to relearn how to write good in my native tounge.

Peggy Sue

I've always disliked love songs. Too cheesy, you know? Too banal. Recently I have started to reevaluate it. Maybe I have become more accepting. Maybe I'm letting myself feel cheesy things. Maybe so strong and horrific feelings can't be properly described. Maybe banality is the only possible human response to something so gut wrenching.

No release valve anymore. Crying? It feels like lies. Like hypocrisy. Talking? The same. Engraved deep within me is the concept of Acta non Verba (don't talk, act), or maybe rather Acta et Verba. Talk and act. If I could be sure that I wouldn't be judged, maybe I would talk (but in reality I fear that I am the only one that judges).

I have many wishes and many fears, but one of them is the same: forgetting. There are things that pains me so, things I just want to forget, things I want blotted out of history. And then I look at that history and realize that there are so much that I don't remember. Things I want and need to remember. Things that still affect me. I don't know what scares me more: remembering them and their full meaning or forgetting more.

God, I just cant stop being angry and sad at the same old shit.

Parched with thirst am I and dying

I have a problem with people being 'cute' and 'nice'. It's such a pose, and an annoying pose at that. And I think it's such a lie. People hiding the dark, evil and disgusting parts of themselves from themselves. I don't see how you can deal with it then. Granted, I have gone to excesses in the opposite direction. But in some ways I prefer that because in a way it makes it possible to evolve a bit. The bar is set kind of low, you know?

Another aspect of this is the discussion I had with someone about being 'genuinly good' a while back.

I just find this thing about being naive and cute such an illusory escape from the realities of human nature and of this world. But then again, one could argue that I am doing the exact same thing when I'm only seeing the darkness of the world and it's inhabitants.

Procreation of the Wicked

I feel like such a rotten human being sometimes. Not evil or cruel. Just rotten. Small. Weak. Shallow. Just seeking some kind of validation.

It makes me sad, knowing that that is also me. Because somewhere along the line I hurt people I love.

When will I stop mourning myself?

Stench of Decay

Smells are a strange thing. I recently had a night filled with feelings of loss, of abandonment, of loneliness and of a lack of stability. I had a hard time understanding why these feelings surfaced then and there and why it felt so familiar and out of place, why it felt so different from all the other times. It didn't feel like memories, it felt like I was there. And then I realized that it was the smell from the ointment I had recently used for my shoulders that brought it all back (I used that ointment a lot about a year ago because my back and shoulders were fucked for different reasons.).

Strange that.

I met an old pal at the subway on my way to work. Don't really know him that well and he sort of vanished a couple of years back, but I like him. We get along well but it never got any further. Probably because we both are quite anti social. But we might see more of each other in the near future. We'll see. I'm thinking that we both are quite bad at taking a social initiative, so we'll see. Would be nice, though.

I have also been thinking about mental scars. You are in a certain way, behave in a certain way, your thoughts work in certain ways. How much of that is YOU and how much is just... scars? And how nice wouldn't it be if you could actually see what caused those scars? But I don't. Sometimes I think I do, but I don't know. Am I seeing the truth or what I just want to be the truth? I can't allow myself to act on feelings if the base of those feelings are dead wrong, now can I? So how do I know?

Sometimes I almost miss feeling like shit because at least then I did something. Sure, it might just have been walking or sitting in a café drinking coffee and writing or cooking or doing the dishes or whatever. These days I do nothing.

"Here's to you, kid"

I don't think there is any music that so directly, in itself, changes my emotional state than Antony & the Johnsons. Other songs or artists are usually connected to a certain event, but even the Antony-songs isn't, that just got released are really... Heavy. It feels like they are something that I've been listening to for years, with a bottle of cheap scotch and a razor as my only company. Not that it is a bad thing for a song to accomplish. It's just a bit unusual.

Talking about solitary drinking... Some people romanticize drugs, I romanticize alcohol. A bunch of years back when things were fucked up I sometimes went to a specific pub, sat at the bar and drank cheap whiskey. Humphrey Bogart, you know? About a year ago I spent a night at a cemetary drinking 2 bottles of wine (white wine, mind you). Not as much Bogart this time, but still... I'd like to be able to say that my mind and heart matched the surroundings (cold, dead and still) but looking back on it I see that that was when a fire was ignited. Still, the surroundings were fitting.

I have however never used alcohol as a blankie. Not in that direct sense. I do use tobacco (and in a way hunger) that way. And maybe I used music. And maybe something else now.

Someone once said that genius is only genius if it works. If it fails, history will prove it to be madness. Sort of like that.

'Tis the season to be jolly

Christmas makes me sad. I had written a longer post about it, but technology wasn't working in my favour. In short, christmas makes me remember my childhood and what I remember most from my childhood is disappointment, stress and humiliation.

Yeah.

I'm sick and I'm at work. I sort of like pushing myself like this but it doesnt do much for my mental health. I feel sad and alone. Keep rehashing old shit. Nothing new there, though. Spend at least 3 nights a week doing that, not being able to sleep.

I wonder when it was different.

Christmas makes me feel even more alone.

People are just so complicated. Building up their images of stuff, of other people and... It just takes of from there. And you realize how blind they are. How blind you have been. How blind you still must be.

I don't like to have my idols destroyed.

Quo Vadis?

One wonders... One just wants the days to pass and yet there is not enough time in the day to get shit done.

Travelling home from work always give me a slight sense of sorrow. It's not that I am sorry that I can't work any more, it's not that I miss my job. It's something else. A pause or break at an end. Back to something that less and less feels like a home and more and more like... A dung heap. Storage space. Just a place, among countless other places. Maybe I'm scared of actually letting it become my home, seeing how those things ends. Maybe, maybe not. Some day I might investigate that further but not here and not now.

I have, once again, been thinking about people (as always) and my own feelings (as always). A large source of pain for me the past year has been that I have felt cast out. A large part of what was once my life suddenly wasn't and it didn't feel good. But there you have it. Now, a large source of irritation has been people on the fringes (no, some of them has been more. Or rather, I thought that they were.) that just... Complicates things. Somehow they manage to do stuff that just comes back to bite me in the ass. It's kind of strange to deal with since I'm quite out of the loop. But it feels a bit like the die has been cast and all I can do is to wait and see how they land. I don't know when or how they will land but I ain't counting on a ''Yatzy!''-moment.

But it is as it is. I don't really know what else is to be done right now.

"I can't let you do that, Dave"

I just want to feel like I have won. Just once. That I really have won, you know? But I don't see that happening any time soon. There's not really anything in my life that feels real, important and worthwhile. Just one thing and that thing scares me. Not the thing in itself but that I will disappoint. History and recent analyzes shows that it has been known to happen. And although I won't claim that I know myselt that well, I know that the glass is half empty.

People talks about not having secrets and that you should share your dark sides and that it doesn't matter, that it won't change their feelings and so forth. I'm not claiming that I am a monster or anything, and maybe I'm too unexperienced, too small, too dead inside, but I don't believe it to be true. Things like that change you. They change the people around you. It changes the relationships, it changes the balance. Maybe that's why it's easier for me to communicate such things with strangers than with loved ones. There is no balance there. There is no relationship that can be damaged, that can be betrayed.

I met a guy the other day that described himself as "a genuinely good person." He was a bit drunk, had had a hectic couple of hours and despite the fact that he was older than me, there was something a bit innocent and naive about him so I let that remark pass. Otherwise I hate people like that. I hate people saying that, thinking that about themselves. It's way too pompous, it's too 'high and mighty' and it unfairly and unhonourably gives you absolution of your past. You are no stronger than your weakest link, your filthiest sin and that's OK. Just be a little humble about it. Yeah, it's really nice that you are a member of Amnesty/Greenpeace/whatever and that you would probably not intentionally hurt another living thing, but you are on the top of the food chain, baby. Your mere existance causes suffering. Your consience is not lily white. It is at it's best light grey, like the ash of cremated corpses. And that's OK. But it is not white.

Idiota Hyperactiva

I've always thought of myself as even-tempered. Maybe I am, but that doesn't make me a good or fair person. I have recently noticed how my mood differs from hour to hour. I mostly spend the days at home with feeling antisocial and sorry for myself, the afternoons with a sense of panic in my guts and the evenings somewhat at ease. It's got something to do with how every day is full of promises, and me being convinced that it isn't for me.

I have also been contemplating 'right', 'responsibility' and pragmatism. Sometimes maybe it isn't someones responsibility to do something but in order to make something happen you have to do it. But now I don't know if that's me. Or if it ever was. Or I'm 'right'.

It's so difficult to put it in words. I know that I haven't acted right in every situation, but that doesn't meen that I have been wrong. Or that the situation is my fault. And now a decision I tried to make (no, I did make it) over 6 months ago has once again been made over my head. Makes me wanna act an outright cunt and disrespect it but that ain't even a possibility for so many reasons.

Nah, fuck it. Let it be.

Monkey see, monkey do.

What people say and what people do is too often really different things. They say they'll be there and then they can't even be arsed to call you back. So you don't really know where you have them.

My problem is that I don't understand people, I don't remember my own history and that I'm chicken.

That old wounds can hurt so much. I talked to H the other day, about him and S. He said that he wished that this whole year that has passed wouldn't have happened and it chocked me a bit, thinking that the nice things in their relationship and the things he has learned was greater than the pain. But it wasn't. And some days I agree with him.

The fun thing is that this 'new' thing I'm in has been so smooth and painless that for just that reason I didn't think it was real. It was just so smooth and... It just worked from the beginning and at times I almost thinks it's boring just because of it. Damaged goods? Me? Aren't we all?

Nom De Guerre

Why do I care what other people think about me? Or do I? Am I worried about something else? Like 'them' catching on to me.

I feel like I really have to take some sort of break. Especially from the alcohol. There's still a lot of identity questions left to answer. It will probably be the next step in the Project. If I feel like sharing.

Rag Doll

Some mistakes you keep on doing. Until you made them for the last time. Hopefully.

I should have known. I should have known. Serves me right, I guess. In some demented way I'm almost laughing inside because in some twisted way it feels like a fitting anniversary.

Hopefully I have learned to stop doing things for others. To stop trying. I mean, I have already killed of a pretty large portion of the empathy that I once had. I guess there's a bit more to eradicate.

Or should I do it in some other way? Like giving people specified contracts instead of trusting them to be able to use their own judgement? I don't know, I guess the judgement was used, but things I wanted taken into calculation wasn't and things I wasn't aware of was. Or something. I should just have kept my mouth shut, but what kind of friend would I be then?

I guess I might be accused of being unfair. And maybe I am. But I guess that I am just tired of taking some kind of responsibility, of caring for people when they don't seem to be able to do it for me and then trying to see things "objectively" and from the "moral higher ground" and all that shit. So fuck honour. I guess it really has no place left in the world or my life. And I should know. I got this because I obviously betrayed a trust. A trust I should have been able to figure out if this urge to help (or whatever you want to call it) wasn't there. I'm just pissed of and disappointed at the fact that I put myself ind a difficult position and that wasn't taken into consideration. But somehow I am not surprised.

So... There you have it.

When It's Dark Enough You Can See The Stars

I was listening to Robyn today. I really like her latest album. But today it made me, quite unexpected, a bit sad. And after a while I figured out why. The songs that make me sad, they aren't MY songs. And it ain't just Robyn. There are a few musicians/albums/songs that I only (if ever) listen to when I am an emotional masochist, songs and albums that have little or nothing to do with my feelings but more to do with me thinking that the song reflects someone elses emotions.

Sometimes I don't know what is me and what is me mimicing something else. Me watching the world and trying to learn how to behave instead of behaving like ME. Whatever field of my life look at I see someone or something else than myself. Me trying to adapt instead of adapting it to me. Sometimes I wish I just had the courage or the simple minded ignorance to NOT feel compelled to learning rules and codes. To just DO and not having to fear (or not realizing that there is something to fear) to come of as a simpleton.

It's strange how you can't let go of things.

There is no honour left in the world. Only feeding of the ego and the self. No honour, no real glory. Maybe it's a good thing, people acting like themselves (but thereby showing how small and impotent their souls are) instead of creating rules for themselves that they just get upset when they try to follow. God knows I am not innocent.

Winter Time Blues

...and if people like me so much with all my faults and shit, what does that say about people in general?

I don't know... I just feel like a fake. Like a cheat, a liar. Like I don't deserve the good things and people I got.

Can't focus.

Requiem

Winter is here. At least for a while. I like the snow. It makes the cold warmer in some strange way. And it makes both the child and the black metal fan in me glad. Nice.

People seems to like me. I have even heard the meaning ''I don't think I know anyone else that is so appreciated by his friends'' uttered. Now, this is of course nice to hear, but a question surfaces: Why? What makes me so likeable? In my mind it just makes me think that I am a good liar that doesn't know when I'm lying. At least on the bad days.

Dreams of Futility

I want this:
Its beautiful, isn't it? An iPod holder called "Arlanda" that looks like a mix between a cigarette case and a credit card holder. I want it. It costs 75 GBP. And I need to buy a new iPod to be able to use it. I'll have to buy one with 160 G memory/storage space, and that's pretty funny because that is more than my computer has.