Peak Oil.

In these post peak oil times I finally let the panic settle. I've spent the last two weeks in an emotional coma, only responding to the outside world when needed and avoiding conversations as well as I could. But those times has passed, I'm not saying that there is no reason to panic, cause there is, for the majority of the world, there certainly is. What I'm saying is it's time to bargain with the options this collapse will leaves us with, the broken pieces that will be left behind, don't let them be wasted. Live of the land that is around you, whether it be an abandoned suburb or a roaming forest, use what you have for the better of you future. And don't give up, never give up. Because a negative state of mind amongst desperate people will spread like wild fire and will cause you all the perish. A positive attitude is all you need.

Either that or all of this is bullshit...

Sun beams and Memories.

Watching the sunlight seep through the dirt stained glass while pushing the wheels on it's rail makes me think of a more innocent time. A time when I didn't constantly question everything, a time when I could let things happen without a second thought, a time when I could just be. But now, things are different. I know too much and I have been knowing too much for a long time. That's why sometimes I go into periods of denial and regression, because I can't absorb the massive impact that knowing things has. It's a weight on one's conscience, it's a dead weight that you carry around every hour of every day. And you can't talk to people because they're all in denial and like it that way. They watch the sun beams stroll over the dirty floor without pondering on the heavy details of our corrupted world. Maybe I don't give them enough credit, I don't know, but to walk around smiling and laughing all day is something I am unable to do. Because I know what's coming, I been knowing it for a long time and I also know that nothing and nobody is going to stop it. Like a flood coming to flush the sinners, it will wipe the slate clean.

I've known this ever since I first heard about oil itself, but back then in school it was something to appreciate. Because the teacher was telling us where all the cool stuff we have came from, but he also mentioned that it was a limited fossil fuel and that it takes millions of years to replenish it. My first thoughts were: Well, how much do we have? When will it run out?

This is only one way for the planet to go under, there are dozens more, but I estimate that one way or the other, our apocalypse is coming during my life time. And I want to see it, because I want to say "I told you so" and smile as my lovely country disappears in the flood, ice, vapor or whatever.

A Familiar Face.

"My horoscope said that I'd be meeting a new person today... I guess that's you." He said while we were waiting for the light to go off. The way he said it made me smile inside, like there was some sort of glimmering hope busting out of this new found friendship. But there wasn't, he was way too careless for my taste and the way he handled himself reminded me of someone I used to know. Someone who I didn't care for that much, someone who went off the rails so to speak.

But this guy, saying this to me in such a natural and almost concerning way, moved me in a very uncomfortable way. The very brief moments of idle chat we've had during the day did not justify this kind of sentimentality, it was weird but also touching. A brute kid with a child on it's way, maybe he is learning that life does not owe him any favors, maybe he is reaching some sort of new consciousness, an epiphany to help him deal with the recent responsibility.

He was clearly depressed or maybe just overwhelmed, I did not know the man before today so I can't really tell. But something is making him act all insecure and reluctant to take charge, a man who thinks he knows only because he is such a good liar, to himself and the people around him. A fraud perhaps or maybe just another joker playing a prank on the rest of us.

I don't know, but I have a strong feeling I am about to find out.

The Tale of the Dark Dikes.

Reinstated in the working machine, among cogs and gears I sweat my days away, hoping to cling to the feeling of inspiration. But it is all very fleeting, one day you're there minding your own business, another you're a small part in something big. I don't mind the grind, I enjoy exerting myself, but to be stuck in the mud is creating a slight panic. Alas, it is only momentary...

Acknowledgement.

It's hard for me as a semi creative person to deal with the encouragement of my parents, seeing as they still live in a time where the TV was still black and white and car were called automobiles, their opinions in things that I make have no relevance. And that's what a creative child needs isn't it? Encouragement. It's what keeps you going, it's what floats an artists boat. Forget about all that shit about not needing acknowledgment and approval, it's exactly what you need, or is it just me? Maybe it is and I probably won't stop until the whole world loves me, and that means never...

It's quite a trivial matter, a petty concern, this complaining of not being encouraged as a child, but it is none the less, my downfall. It's why I give up every time I'm on to something. If no one else cares, I won't be making it. But who is going to care about it if I don't? Quite the moment 22.

When I stop and think about it, it all started when I was younger, maybe fifteen or so. I was writing this online diary on this community that was popular back in the day. It was before all this blogging and online broadcasting. I was writing poetry, poetry not too abstract and not too personal, so many people could recognize themselves in my texts and they did. I had a steady following for years, people who would actually ask me if something was wrong when I hadn't written for a while. Like proper fans they would support me through the years, leave notes on me page and always affirming me work. I think that this made me addicted to the acknowledgement, to the affirmation of being talented. But over the years there has been more communities and forums, bigger one's that makes it harder to make yourself heard, nowadays you're just a needle in a haystack. And ever since I've been trying to get back to that place, my place on the internet. Hence my desire to be the big fish in the small pond...

Cyberspace.

Everybody is broadcasting, everybody's voice is constantly spewing out in the ether trying to find it's target audience. But who's listening? Who is reading all these blogs upon blogs about a blog about a movie? If everybody is writing, talking, broadcasting, who's reading, listening, watching?

Sometimes I feel invisible, here and on the street. Nobody knows me and nobody says hello. Sometimes it makes me feel good, but mostly it makes me feel lonely. It makes me feel like a ghost, walking through all these familiar streets with all the familiar faces erased. Faded into their own lives, somewhere distant, living happily ever after. The faces I used to be close with, the faces I used to call friends, but now they're nothing but faces in a community called Facebook.

Seeing as I could never find my rightful place in the real world, I've been roaming the internet for many years looking for a place to call home. I haven't found one, seems like wherever I go, there is someone there to piss me off. But I guess that's life, it's just a really long lesson in learning how to deal with the assholes of the world.

The Balance.

Desperation.

I hold on so tight, sometimes so hard that my knuckles turn white and my closed eyes show an expression of desperation. It can all go away in any given moment, just like it never happened, turn sour like a packet of milk, never to be drunk again. I know this because I've been there, many times on the giving end, but only once on the receiving. There is nothing worse, standing there seconds after it happened, wondering what to do next...

But I do not dwell on these things often now a days, not like I used to. I used to completely consume myself with the idea of heart break, until it became the only thing I had. But now, I just live in a constant state of content, without manic episodes where I uproot my life and ruin everyone I know. I feel satisfied and fulfilled, calm, almost tranquil...

Nothing Special.

I laid awake last night. I laid awake thinking for two straight hours. As part of my new "get your ass out of bed in a reasonable time" philosophy I made myself go to bed way too early, and as a result I laid in bed thinking, for two straight hours.

It started simple, thoughts about the world, what a sorrowful state it is in. I thought about how there is no cure for herpes and how the medicine business would lose a lot of money if there was. Then I thought about cancer, how many job opportunities and medicine cash it produces, and then I thought that there would never be a cure for cancer. I thought about my parents and how they were way too old by the time I came into the world. Their state of minds are welded in the olden times, when you'd walk into the woods and chop down some trees, then sell it for rent and living. A time where computers where advanced calculators and the internet only a dream someone had yet to dream. I thought about how we never traveled when I was little. Once we went to a place called Lycksele, to a camping site with lots of other kids around. I remember loving it, but then I got diarrhea, sharted in my pants and no one would play with me. Then I thought about my drunken conversation with my father on Christmas eve and how it ended, he said that my sister ruined the family...

Then I fell asleep.

The Change.

I'm a bum, I think I've already made that pretty clear, but I'm a bum who doesn't make any excuses. Maybe I do sometimes, but the point I want to make is that I'm trying not to. I know it's wrong leading the life that I have, I'm so comfortable, living off others and not really trying to get my shit together. Sometimes it makes me feel less of a man, than I would if I had a job. But then again, I think I'm on to something, something big. Change is coming to me, slowly, but I can feel it. I've started to think again, evolve and read. I feel like I'm growing each day, in a way that others don't, because they go to the work they hate, watching television they didn't choose and make love to strangers just to boost their ego.

By this blog (or whatever) I'm not saying that I am better than anyone else, just different, as it should be, we're all unique bla, bla, bla.

On the other hand I'm always looking for ways to be reborn, like a spiritual cleansing kind of thing, a new me in the same skin. Truth is, you never change, you might to a certain degree or during a certain amount of time, but you always slip into the same as you were. And I hope that I'll stop trying some day, stop trying to be something that I'm clearly not, stop trying to grow up, stop trying to fit into suits, stop trying to make a mature hairdo, stop trying to convince myself that I anything but myself.

Although things change all the time, cities grow, people die and countries get raped by bigger ones. The world changes all the time, but your life span isn't long enough to see it happen. That's why it feels so futile. To wait for a murderous war to end, to wait for Marijuana to be legalized, to wait for a new world order. Not THE new world order...

But I digress, starting tomorrow I'm going to stop trying to change. (Isn't that changing per cé?)