5 People.

This is a list of five types of people I wouldn't mind seeing dead. 5. Condescending Bisexuals Have you ever run into these people? Bisexuals who seem to think that because they find both men and women sexually attractive they somehow, in some mysterious way, are more enlightened then the rest of us. You know, us common folk that only want to fuck one or the other. Truly they are the chosen people! Why? Well because they've seen past gender and appearance and found that you fall in love, not with the gender but with the person. Wow, isn't that inspiring? Granted of course that this non-gender-specific person still conforms to our culture's perception of beauty. I'm sorry but penises, to me, look horrendous. I wouldn't want one anywhere near either my face or ass. In fact, the first time I saw my own I attacked it with a shoe. Sexual preference does not equal moral superiority you smug bastards. Another thing; you don't get more options because you're "playing both sides", so to speak. What it comes down to, in the end, is how attractive the other person finds you. Not just appearance wise although that is unfortunately the most important factor. 4. Young folk who act older than their age This is especially prevalent among university students. People approaching their mid 20s that act as if they were in their late 40s. Wearing boring "adult" clothing, sipping lattes, conversing about what table napkins would be the best for their next couples get-together/dinner party. You'd think they'd be talking about something like "the Geo-political situation in eastern Africa" but no. They have so perfected this act since high school that they've realized that older people don't actually talk about that stuff. More on shallow and stupid people in their 40s later on. What happened to the energy of these people? All I wanted to do when I was in high school was to fuck on the floor and break shit. Thinking about it, that's still all I want to do now. Alright, that may not be entirely true. I do like having a good deep, fervent and energetic conversation about an interesting subject-matter from time to time. But if you actually try this on these yuppie offspring you quickly notice they're incapable of such thought. I suspect they've developed this intricate and boring lifestyle full of little fetishes like napkins, home decorating, couples dinners and other mind numbingly boring activities as a subterfuge for their lack of depth and intelligence. Crafty scoundrels! 3. People who grew up in the 60s and 70s getting tough on kids This is as much an objection to the reasoning as it is to the rhetoric that these people use. I will grant them that kids are insufferable bastards and need to learn some discipline. Hasn't that been true in every generation since the dawn of man though? And shouldn't that be something for the parents to sort out? The schools can only do so much. The main problem with slipping grades in schools all over the western world lies not with the children but with the poor quality of the grownups, the teachers. How to improve that is a different rant entirely but suffice to say that improving the status of the teaching profession and holding them accountable for results may help. What really makes me want to go into a self-induced coma is when these people who grew up in the 60s and 70s use harsh rhetoric and language. Words like grades, expectations, discipline, control and uniforms get thrown around. While they were handed everything in their youth. EVERYTHING! So when these pampered to middle aged, fat, comparatively rich, white motherfuckers come along and say kids these days lack discipline I just want someone to invent cyborg warrior bodies. So that their 80 year old parents can rip their damn heads off! Call it a really really really late term retroactive abortion. 2. Subcultures Stop letting your entire identity be dictated by things other people have created. Be it music, clothing, books, movies or video games. You're being a shallow cunt, stop it. 1. Bloggers and the people who read them Most blogs are about absolutely nothing of worth. They're just some ramblings from some teenage girl (either physically or mentally) about what they did today. And I'm not even talking about exciting stuff like teenage sex and drugs. No, negative, denied. It's always some meandering post about what they ate or what clothes they wore. I have friends who do this, if you're one of them consider this my way of saying; I like you, but for fuck sake! I know these pointless blogs have been an annoyance to many people over the years. I'm certainly not the first to bring this up. I did it however to set up a point. Could we please, please agree to stop reading these "celebrity" bloggers? These wannabe socialite journalists who live these fabulous lives revolving around gossip, fashion, parties and one has to assume rather boring sex. Mostly implied, naturally. They just seem too neat and well scrubbed to be having anything other than dull repetitive sex. In their luxurious penthouse apartments smelling equally as sterile and unnatural as their genitals. It's bad enough that they can't quite seem to string together a complete sentence, they make money doing so. These blogs are essentially the same thing as other personal blogs, only infinitely more sad. For all of us. What sort of vapid, soulless, asinine existence is that? If you're asking yourself how I can rail against this sort of thing and then myself slip in bits and pieces of my own life in this blog, well...you're just going to have to figure that out on your own.

A Modest Wish

To whom it may concern. (you know who you are) Your love is the child seat going through the windshield that is my heart in the great traffic collision of life. We two do not have time for rational solutions, we're wanted for assaulting a circus monkey. The perfect crime, some would say. The perfect crime for the perfect partner, that is you. As you well know there is a thin line between hugging someone and holding them down so that they can't escape. I will never escape from you, you're a much faster runner. So many memorable things have happened to us, unfortunately I can not remember any of these events. Does alcohol effect the memory? I think I read that somewhere once. In any event, I really like spending time with you. And also, you smell nice. Which is important in this smell-oriented modern world of ours. Here's hoping we won't grow tired of each other in the near future. - Dedicated to someone who did not love me. Ps. FUCK YOU!

Narrow, Shallow and Small.

Narrow Why does every debate and every issue have to revolve around gender? What makes men and women different, be it biologically or culturally, always seems to be the main focus. How has society separated and suppressed women this time? Granted, I myself have made such observations from time to time but I don't see it as the mainstay of my intellectual self. I have other things up there, in that noggin of mine. Other ideas and musings that do not touch upon feminist theory or opposing ideals. What sort of cognitive pretzel would you have to twist yourself into in order to make absolutely everything about gender equality? Shallow We all live in a miniature world. Everything is so close these days, and so fast. Immediately accessible to anyone at any time. This is mostly a good thing. One side effect though seems to be the ever decreasing attention spans and simpler trails of thought. Quite often people can't even hold one encompassing thought in their heads for more than a few minutes. Let alone two directly opposed ones. These aren't kids with ADD, ADHD or some other disorder, these are "normal" adults. It is quite possible that this has always been the case and that it's only become much more visible now that everyone has a way of expressing themselves to a greater number of people. The Internet is the great repository of this brain-goop. The great mental meltdown of society.

This is where we live.

This tiny little world we live in is all our tiny little plastic brains can handle. Everything is clear-cut, prefabricated and safe in its sameness. Selecting what you want to see and hear and feel. Not everything is going to revolve around what you take an active interest in. Not everything is going to be about child welfare, the environment or gender equality. Noble subjects as they may be. Human society and life is infinitely more complex than that. Small The entire concept of personal responsibility has utterly gone out the window. Like some fad that we've found quaint and discarded. Nothing is your fault anymore. It's your genes, upbringing, circumstance and society that's to blame for everything that's wrong with you and your life. Of course all of these different aspects play a role in shaping people. But you do have a brain with a cerebral cortex capable of reason and thought. It's a wonder anyone gets held responsible for anything anymore. You can't keep up with being a parent and working? Maybe you should have had less kids. How about you at least get the first one right before you pump out another one? A smaller house would mean less cleaning. Less frilly and expensive clothing would mean less laundry and less shopping. You don't need to be a top executive at a soulless corporation some day. So what if the lawn is untidy? Trust me, all these pointless activities and fads that you're wasting the best years of your life on won't mean anything. The one with the most toys doesn't win, they just leave behind more garbage to be thrown away and discarded. After all, we need to make way for more pointless shit. Are we really such small people? This is not as pointed or succint as it ought to be. I hope to one day be smart enough for that.

5 grams of glee.

Did you know that in Sweden you're not allowed to carry around more than 5 grams of glee at any one time? Anything more than that would be illegal. Above that amount and you're considered a dealer of delight, a pusher of joy. No, 5 grams is the sanctioned amount. It's not even enough to make you properly merry. But it is however enough to make you fine, without being too dandy. Scientific studies have shown that any more than 15 grams of glee can cause you to become more than happy, a dangerous mental condition. Afflicted with which you'll be put in a special institution. Locked away, prohibited from gladdening anyone's day. Society can only handle a specific amount of bliss each month. More than a specified amount and it would just become obscene. Felicity frenzy would break out! Gangs of gaiety would be rampaging up the streets spreading joviality all around. Pandemonium of positivity! I think I just gleed a little. Better clean up. Hand me my mirth-towel.

The Man, part 2.

I got the call just as I was leaving work. I almost snapped off the band-aid from my finger while scrambling to get the phone out of my pocket. What the hell does she want now? Isn't it enough that she rejected me? Is this some sort of sick game to her? I know alot of things, the only problem is that most of it's wrong. One thing I am certain of however is that I love her. Or loved her, whichever makes me less pathetic. For the longest time she seemed like she was deciding. What she wanted from life, what she wanted from me. In reality though she had probably figured out exactly what she needed me for quite some time ago. Some sort of male companionship. When other men treated her like shit she needed me to come in and reassure her. Tell her she didn't deserve what she got. Keep her company. Maybe watch a movie and eat dinner together, in our little apartments. Knowing full well that I wanted her. On second thought it was entirely possible she couldn't quite understand just how much this feeling had taken over my life. No, no she had to know. Not fully, but surely an inkling had to appear somewhere in that head of hers. We were more than friends. "Just friends" as she put it. The phrase that can make any grown man feel like he's back in school, having just been humiliated in front of the class. "This is my heart, please don't dump it on the floor." I really need to get back home first and have a shower and change this band-aid. It's starting to itch, a whole lot. If this thing gets infected I swear to God I'm going to go berserk! I'm not going to lose a finger over a bet. How the hell was I to know that Indian would be so good at the knife game? Proving once again that whisky and sharp objects don't mix. The band-aid is getting frayed around the edges and discoloured. If only it was a Flintstones one like when you were a kid. That would be cute, that would be a way in when you're picking up women. What the hell am I thinking? "Hey baby, wanna see my disfigured finger?" Sexy, real sexy. Who was it that had fucked her and left this time? Some dashingly handsome actor? A mysterious musician? A successful banker? It didn't matter. They were all the same underneath. The same insecure, preening, posturing bullshit artists that equally insecure women fall for. I knew most of these guys through friends of friends and acquaintances. Walking human echoes, one and all. What a whiny little bitch I had become. At times that little piece of plastic cloth felt like it was the only thing holding me together.