"What a disgrace really, for a man to grow old, never finding out what he is capable of."
The bus' night route will be the same no matter what, I guess. The driver always going as fast as hell to reach the terminal, a couple of wasted junkies at the back side sleeping and a bunch of losers like myself not having something better to do on a Saturday night. Being working too much in the last months has led me to spend too much time to myself. Realizing that I decided to go downtown hoping to find someone I know to spend some time with.
First thing I do when I arrive is getting a cold beer from the liquer store and a pack of smokes. I take a look around and spot some guys I've been knowing since a long time. They' re really excited to see me since I've been away for some time. I don't care that much that they didn't contact me anyway.
The conversations were about various staff, but mainly they were focusing on the ''system''. How it controls our lives, not being able to react, being enslaved over nothing. I remember them telling me how we have to work more than we should, that life should be easier.
"Easy living isn't living" I said. "A sheep's life is easy. It is offered its food daily and doesn't care where it is or where it's going. All decisions are made by someone else. So someone deciding for your life doesn't qualify as living actually. A panther's life, on the other hand, is hard. The panther has to be faster and more agile than its prey or face starvation. The panther has to be stronger than an other male panther to be able to mate, and has to remain strong in order to not be killed by another rival. This is earning your life. Not easy, but more similar to free.''
"Society doesn't always play fair", they said. "There are people that will gladly stab you on the back"
"Vultures and hyaenas feast on rotten corpses, that's the best they can do. They will always live in fear of the one who doesn't count on the opponents disease to win.''
It is almost 5 o'clock in the morning so I guess it is time to get back home. I thank everyone for the company and leave.
The subway was crowded with people going to their jobs. Not willing. Not satisfied. Not free.
Goodmorning dear readers, It's been almost a year since I made my first post. It's been real nice sharing my experiences, feelings, thoughts, fears and dreams through this blog but I have to stop due to study and labor obligations.
But the main reason is that I've been working on a novel in the last few months. It will be in three parts, hopefully the first will come on May 2013. I plan it to be on .pdf format, for free of course, but I will also print a few hard copies for anyone interested. I really hope you will enjoy reading it!
I want to thank you all for your support, feel free to join me on my facebook page or profil or on my twitter account where I will make some reposts of old staff, and inform you about my progress.
This last post will be a set of pictures concerning basic emotions.
Thanks again for everything, and in case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight!
"I can hear her. Her voice is faint, but it's still there. She's calling me."
The city in the night always depresses me. Everything and everyone painted in black and white, and the moon upon us, pale and scarred, a daily reminderof our god's feelings for our failure.
The other cars are passing us by and I can only wonder where are they all rushing to. My friend doesn't get carried away and drives the car nice and smoothly to reach our destination in comfort.
This playlist we are listening to contains some heavy metal music, which is, if you are asking me, fitting perfect after a boring day to work to get back to your senses.
When we stop at a traffic light he turns down the volume so we can speak.
"Everytime I listen to these songs I feel really good for being raised like that. With these kind of morals I mean. It has nothing to do with all these hipster anti-establishment bullshit. I'm talking about values, like family, friendship, relationships, work ethics... Most of the people in our city are money-centric. If something can't be priced, then it has no value. I feel more angry than sorry towards them. It's something like that german philosopher said, they are allowing their own spiritual rape and they seem quite fine with it. And that's the reason I am angry, cause they rather do nothing than to attempt to change."
The traffic light turns green and we start moving again. I look outside the window and I see all the shoping stores and their blinding lights, some bimbo girls wasted outside a club, a bunch of dudes trying to talk their way with some prostitudes to get them a better price.
"Everyone fears death", I tell him, "and by buying things make us believe that we can also buy life. Immortality. You can't buy a way out no matter how much you postpone it. What if you are 60 and look like 40? Will it make you live longer? Will it get you closer to heaven? Will an expensive computer buy you knowledge? Or will a well paid job buy you dignity? I know that we have the potential to understand everything but we are too far from that, trapped in this concrete jungle, where noone seems to care if the hooker that he buys is just sex, not love. Noone cares. They don't seem to need emotions. Sadly..."
We keep going silent, not turning the music up. I get out the pack of my smokes to light one. I offer him one also but he refuses.
"Come on now, light up that smoke. Stop trying to live for ever."
He laughs and takes it saying that I play dirty.
When he dropped me at my home I had the strong feeling that I will spend all night tormenting my mind with these thoughts, but exhaustion got me first.
In my dreams, at least, I can breath free air and see free skies, and everytime I wake up violently I only think of ways trying to make my dreams come true.
"None is more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe that they are free."
The day was exhausting. It's almost two o'clock in the morning on a hot summer night and I'm laying on my bed smoking the tenth malboro listening to some relaxing music. My stomach is digesting itself and the half bottle of whiskey I consumed in the last two hours, for I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. I want to take a look outside the window to witness our maker's greatest creation, just to make me feel better.
But the poison in mind is in effect. I can't see the world. All I see is a system. And this system is everywhere. It's my appartment, the clothes I wear, the music I like. It makes me obey when it has to stabilize and it makes me retaliate when it sees fit to change it's leader. It has spread nice and warm all over to hide the dominant truth.
That we are slaves. That we were born in bondage. Born in a prison, where everything we see, smell or feel is part of the plan. A prison for the mind.
Being part of a system means being under it's control. Salesmen, politicians, actors, doctors, me, you, we are all under control, manipulated by any means, it has been using and disgracing the most sacred things to make us set our minds to achieve their goal, to win the crown for them. And some of us are so hopelessly dependent on this system that we even fight to protect it.
Having this thoughts I feel desperately weak, and no matter how much alcohol I consume, I cannot feel any stronger. The world seems darker and darker and my last thought as I fall asleep is if questioning this reality is also part of the plan.
Today I took the last bus home from work as usual. The night was freaking hot, and with no air-conditioning I felt like I was melting in a plastic container. The bus is almost empty, there are two guys who I always meet during this route, one of them going home from work, and the older one does something downtown which I couldn't care less to know.
But it's not just us. On the back there are three people, two guys and a girl. They are talking loud and strange. They can't keep their mouth in command, their bodies look weak and skinny. Their skin seems like full of scars, their clothes old, dirty and weared-off. And their eyes red within their black eye sockets, as if they're about to fall off from their skull. Through all of these years hanging out downtown I got used to the sight of wasted junkies. But that doesn't mean I feel nice having them around. Usually my guts turn inside out just in the thought of their rotten inner self and the diseases they might be carring.
Once I tried to understand them you know. Being enslaved to something is the worst humiliation, even if it's not something like drugs, even if it's something like not being able to stay away from a computer for a day, or to surrender to your gluttonous desires all the time. Not beacause you have to, but because you need to.
We already have the potential for greatness, to live our lives free from any addiction controlling our body, mind and life.We are not meant to live our lives in slumber..
