In the head of Camenes – Wednesday apathy

I spent most of my time in school looking out a window. I even think I spent most of my time as a kid and teenager doing the same thing.

It wasn’t the scenery outside that absorbed my attention, I probably didn’t see much of the view or the events outside, instead I fixed my eyes on sky and sunk deep into thoughts, hiding in my head. My body was still stationed to their pleasing, but in my mind I wasn’t present at all. A silent resistance. A refusal to participate in enforced activities.

I never really wanted anything but to be left alone, to my own thoughts and to make my own choices. So I spent most of my time avoiding doing what I was told, getting some agency from the act of opposition.

In my early twenties I stated to formulate a goal, something to strive towards instead of just doing the opposite of what I was told. Moving towards something instead of just running in the reverse direction out of spite. I felt free, and in at least somewhat in control over my own life.

Now for some reason I’m back in that classroom, it feels like whatever decision I make I’m somehow ending up serving an authority, like somebody is forcing my hand. And I fall back into being a stubborn child.

Today I’m lying on my sofa, once more staring through window at the grey cloudy sky. Feeling trapped again. Apathetically staring. This time I don’t even have the urge to go outside to play, getting drunk, kiss someone or to smoke a cigarette. Whatever I would do it feels like enabling them, serving the state, following the wishes of the society. So I lie still, staring with unseeing eyes. The only change in my state of being is when I see a plane go by, then I feel a sting in my heart and a longing to change places with one of those passengers. A short while I’m dreaming of a one-way ticket to new adventures. Then, back to apathy.

Homesick.

Virtual sex and cultural fucks

I wish for a virtual reality.
In a virtual world the notion of its construction would be no matter for debate. The preferential right of interpretation would not be seen as something natural, but rather as a constructed frame of agency.

Natural. I hate that word. The word “natural” implies that there are things that aren’t natural, and not in the sense of supernatural (another retarded word) but unnatural, something of lesser dignity than the “righteous” and “natural” way of doing things.

The dichotomy of natural/unnatural disguise the fact that everything that happens already is natural since it’s actually happening. It implies a right way of doing things but misses the fact that there is no given way of understanding things or actions. Not even eating, sleeping or having sex are distinct natural features of humanity in the sense that it holds a natural or homogenous set of practices tied to it. We don’t have any consensus about even these most basic of human dealings. It varies vastly over time and between cultures, and still people are claiming that there’s a natural way of having or understanding sex. It makes me tired, and ultimately sexually frustrated.

I wish for virtual sex.
Then we could negotiate and discuss the terms of bodily interaction without all the discursive understandings about “natural sex”, morality and all the other bullcrap that’s sabotaging and complicating our sex lives. and maybe, maybe we could then actually have sex with our partners in a more understanding and mutual way, without being simultaneously fucked by culture.

Phoenix

Cycles.

We all have them.

Linearity is a hoax and not a very useful concept, I might add, if you’re trying to make sense of events, you’re life and surroundings.

The processes move ahead in circles or spirals rather than forward along a linear axis

Thus life circles along in different cycles between success and despair. over and over again.

I’ve hit rock bottom innumerable times - that’s the most visible part of the cycle, because it hurts. But also because the top of the circle is obscured by our expectation about a linear progress of accomplishment and happiness, as something that should and can be constant.

But then the pendulum swings again and you crash and burn.

This time the desolation was widespread, but the depth of the decline also indicates a higher pinnacle.

I still grovel in the ashes

But a new cycle, aeon, has started.

Like the Phoenix I will soon rise again, be reborn and grow new feathers – this time even more magnificent than my previous plumage.

Release

I finally managed to pick through the thick wall of glass that has been surrounding me for some time now. I’ve been like a fish in a bowl, swimming around in circles in my own shit, unable to escape or communicate with the outside world.

And like the thick glass of reality, my bell jar distorted all the audiovisuals, blurring them in both directions. seriously impairing my perception and cognitive capacities. obstructing my ability to mediate myself to my surroundings, but also their ability to reach me.

The ground almost swallowed me

But yesterday I had help. Someone actually looked through the glass meticulously enough to discern me, and see that I was trapped. I’ve been hammering away at the solid glass trying to escape without luck for some while now, she noticed my hammering and started to bang the glass from the other side, and together we managed to pick a hole in the bell jar. I cannot even begin to express the relief and gratitude I feel. Through the hole I can both look out and breathe again. Some days she is a primordial goddess, shining with light and wisdom.

I’m finally out of the labyrinth, staring at the road in front of me, squinting towards the sun, observing the small embryo of a possible future. But I need to really watch my step this time, so I don’t fall into abyss of craziness again.

Now exile. A pilgrimage. Confronting my past, creating my present, searching for my future. The tigress will multiply, so I make this excursion to behold the omen of the eighth wonder that soon is to manifest itself in this world. Then, nothing will be the same ever again.