People are food not friends

Lifeguard, save me from life.

People, kiss me or die.

I was right. I'm taking a break from all this.

To thrive in death

This is not my generation.
This generation is a generation that has lived only in the era of selfishness. In the 60’s and 70’s young people were demanding freedom, justice, love and answers – all this generation demands is the right to download music for free. This is the generation that just simply doesn’t care. This is the Dead Generation.
To this society nothing is sacred. This society isn’t looking for something beautiful, something pure, something good, something intelligent, something sacred – all this society is looking for is a joke to put on the internet and laugh at for ten seconds.
This world has lost all rules, except one: everything must be killed. Everyone must have the right to touch and kill everything. This is the only human right this humanity truly believes in, so:
Jesus Christ is dead. Kindness is dead. Humanity is dead. Literature is dead. Compassion is dead. Bravery is dead. The planet is dead. People are dead.
These are facts that I need to accept; I need to accept them, but not completely – I need to accept them for now in order to fight them and change them. If I want to change this world I have to become a person who thrives in places full of death. Surrounded by death, I have to be able to stand up straight and turn darkness into light, bring the dying to life – first: literature, then: kindness, humanity, compassion, bravery, and then people and the planet, and possibly Jesus Christ if he wants to – one by one, I want to wake up the ones that deserve to be woken up, I want to open beautiful eyes and fill them with furious wisdom.
I may be losing my battles, and we may lose the fight we fight tomorrow, we may lose the fight we fight the day after tomorrow, but we are losers only for now. Someday, we will win.
What is dead will not be dead forever.





First, I really need to get drunk.

Bigcrotch strikes again

I'm so full of youth and wrath and inspiration, so full of zeal and lust and frustration, but for the moment all I can do is sit and walk and wait and ride public transportation.

One new exciting thing I've noticed is that now I'm constantly looking for a fight. I'm very aggressive. I stare at rude and annoying people. It's strange because I'm not an 'aggressive person'. Or am I? Maybe I've always been quite aggressive. I've always been aggressive but, at the same time, I've seemed extremely passive to other people. I don't know, the point is that I'm very hungry at the moment.

I should really take a break from all this. I should go and do normal things.

One night I was sitting on a swing in the darkness of this lovely little park and then I saw a girl. She was a paperboy, although she was a girl - anyway she had a cart full of newspapers. She didn't see me, and I thought that if I wasn't like this, I would go and talk to her and help her. I don't really like talking because I'm like this so unfortunately I can't just go and disturb working people.

Does the title have anything to do with this writing? No.

Thorn

And when you want to live
How do you start?
Where do you go?
Who do you need to know?

Boy least likely to

Waiting.

Thinking, walking, doing good things without anyone saying THANK YOU.

...

DEATH TO THE WITCH.

...

If I seem a little strange well that's because I am.

...

I want to be sexy.

I want you to look at me. I want you to want me. I want you to see my face.

But it's not the time yet.

The truth is that nobody knows my name. I don't exist in this society or in this neighbourhood. Nobody knows who I am or remembers me (except my mother). Or who knows - maybe someone remembers me? Maybe that strange girl who didn't talk at all but to whom I said three words and who made me want to become an old lesbian woman? Maybe that girl? Maybe not. But she was strange and beautiful. I loved her nearly two years ago. She had a peculiar voice, I loved her. I wish she'd understood, oh god, I loved her.

We are nameless faceless bastards before we become legends. Becoming a legend is easy if you have the face. I'm gonna hide mine, I have to, but just for a moment, you must wait for me, wait for me.

(I'm hungry all the time. So I'm eating night and day. [Night and day taste so good.] I love eating so so much. GOD I love eating. I - LOVE - EATING. It's my favourite pastime. Good night.)

In love with Jeanne

I have a strange song for you (who is the 'you'?) - it's strange because it kind of sounds like The Smiths but it's not - but anyway, you must listen to it while you read this little writing. Okay?

Okay so let's go:

I'm in love again.

I entered this elegant cinema today, this place called Orion, because I'm desperately trying to steal Morrissey's (and Antti Nylén's) elegant youth, and I saw this film called The Trial of Joan of Arc, and, well, there I was, sitting in the dark again, looking at the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, thinking:

Oh my god. Here we go again.

This is not the first time this happened to me. Actually, the exact same thing happened to me three years and three months ago. In the dark of a movie theatre I realized that the most beautiful of faces had suddenly turned everything around.

Three years ago the face looked like this and made me lose my mind for almost 18 months:

And now, three years later, the face looks like this:

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAT IS THIS? WHAT IS THAT? IS THIS LOVE??????????
I CAN LIVE AGAIN.
OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So what I'm trying to say is that I'm in love with Jeanne d'Arc. I'm madly in love with her. I love everything that she was and everything that she did. This is crazy, but she was crazy too - she's the girl that I want, and now I found her, and I can breathe again.

Father,
Son,
and Jeanne of Arc.

I identify with her. I have my reasons.

I like this YouTube comment

bookshopaddict:

Peter Hook's story in "How Not To Run A Club" sums up Morrissey vs Joy Division. Rob Gretton said to Morrissey, "The trouble with you, Morrissey, is that you've never had the guts to kill yourself like Ian. You're f*cking jealous." Apparently Morrissey stormed off after Gretton said that.

18

I hate my life but I also kind of love it. The love/hate balance changes every day. I hate my life when I hate the world, this world in which my life happens, so when I see a vulgar hamburger commercial, or a YouTube commenter telling little singing girls to kill themselves, I sink and everything becomes black and grey and I lose my ability to breathe, and then I sleep for 10 hours and, perhaps, suddenly, the new day is something completely different, something breathtakingly beautiful, and suddenly I’m full of hope and excitement, full of trust – suddenly I know that my dreams will come true, I know it, I know it, and for that one day I love hating my life, but at the same time I know that the day will end, and sooner or later I see a hamburger commercial and I find myself in that huge disgusting arsehole again and then there’s absolutely nothing to love about hating my life.

The night comes and the night goes and it comes and it goes, comes and goes, comes and goes, please stop torturing me.

Being alone all the time isn’t healthy. It’s actually very dangerous. When you’re completely alone with your brutal ideas and unbearable lust, your brutal ideas can actually become something real – that’s what happened to all those kids who decided to kill their peers, that’s what happened to me. This is my brutal idea. I – have – no – plan – B. This room and these words are all that I have, and if this dream dies, I will die with it.

But it’s so difficult. I want to die.

No, no, no, I don’t want to die, I just want to be loved, I want someone to love me, I want someone to look at me, I want to give hope, hope, hope, I want to be important to someone, I want to cry, I want to laugh, I want to fly, but I need someone, I NEED A PARTNER IN CRIME, a partner in crime who understands me, who understands WHAT I COULD BE and nods with burning eyes when I tell them WHAT I WANT TO BE, I want you to follow me wherever I go, I want you to burn with me, I want to be something crucial to you, I want to be crucial, I want to live after death, I want to be the one to START A REBELLION, I want to reach all the clumsy depressed losers and weirdos in their dark rooms, I want to reach them and WAKE them and give them HOPE, I want to give them TRUST, I want to set them on FIRE, I want them to know that in the end the day will beat the night, that in the end the day wins, that in the end all the losers and weirdos and hopeless bitter unruly girls and hopeless bitter unruly boys, and suffering cows, and girls that are too loud and boys that are too quiet, and whales, and angry crazy people who dance alone in the dark wearing ugly clothes will win – that in the end WE will win.

So stop now. I give you this fire. I give you my hand, now grab it and never let go. We will win.