You know, it bothers me there is no response to what aI am expressing, as music, wisdom, poetry or drawings. The only thing people respond to is power, of which aI have none. And that makes me feel insufficient, and poor. And it has a devastating effect on my belief in human kind. And whatever happens; so it was. Is it strange aI get drunk …
You know, that is an expression in Norwegian. “Du verden …” In English, that would be “good gracious …” The feel is, though, not quite the same, one will admit.
Today, aI discovered, by a random pick, that one of the tunes in the random pick on Prixnix.com had been sabotaged. And aI was unable to detect which, by the web page. So, aI decided to make a list of every tune in the random pick, since then it is not much of a job to detect which is destroyed. And making it is quite easy, by the “search and replace” function of a word processor program. Since aI did not change any of the hyper marks, aI could use that. And, do you know (a Norwegian expression again …), they deleted a link in the list. And when aI tried to find out which one by the search function of the browser, aI discovered they changed which one was deleted as aI searched. Ai mean, what?
Is there any comfort, one may ask. To you and me there is no comfort, people going to hell. The comfort might be, though, one trusted in the Lord. Faith, and belief. At least, one did that, lissom.
Is everything aI have believed about the human being wrong, aI ask myself. Ai was terribly bullied when aI was a child. My parents taught me to respect people, though, and aI believed there was kindness in humans. Ai believed people were sensible. Ai believed people had hearts. What aI have lived through, and what aI right now experience, is so that aI ask myself if aI have been mislead. There is no name for the evilness aI am subjected to. There is no end to the evilness aI am subjected to. And no-one cares. It seems like people are sitting watching, finding it interesting what a man can take. It seems like people find pleasure in being informed about how evil one can be. It seems like people enjoy the love of Satan. And aI am bothered. Is human kind basically evil? Should aI perceive people aI meet as matters of Satan? Prove me wrong, lissom? Should children make secret societies? Should the aim of life be to devastate an official? Pride, lissom? At least aI did that? Ai uploaded some new images to Flickr, and suddenly, aI see an old one has disappeared. Ai don’t know which. Of sixty. Is the placement of it changed? Is it deleted? It will take me effort aI am not capable of making to find out. Ai am immobilized. Interesting, it is, that this is a way to do evil? To torture an incapable man? Faith in you? You know, aI wonder if my faith in mankind has been demolished. If people should go to hell, in my eyes, and that aI am one of the happy few who got it. And then, naivety is not what makes believers.
You, yourselves, have experienced this cruelty. What shall we do? How can people be so stupid there is no hope? Let us concentrate on the children, aI’d say. And feel nothing for the grown ups. Jesus is in charge, no matter what, and there is time.
For quite a long time aI have been subjected to torture, sadistic and persistent, and the last week has been ill. Ai was hospitalized for a couple of days. There was, though, so much arrangement, so much fancy play, so much made for me to take stand to, and so much torture and planting of evidence in my room, aI decided to go home, where aI am familiar with the surroundings. Ai feel a lot of people around the world, women and men, by God have reached their destination. And aI believe aI have abandoned physical functions of my body to protect myself. And aI cannot understand it. “As long as you live, there is hope,” we say in Norway, and aI cannot understand why people want to go home when home is Hell. Ai am physically ruined. And the latter days my head has been boiled. Ai wonder how aI myself will come out of this.
Ai believe aI have work to do. Since Google+ is to be taken down, early in April, aI must find another way of fronting Trixnix, and myself. And aI must find other ways of presenting the poems of mine posted in the communities of mine on Google+. Right now aI am not capable of doing any work, however light. Ai am, though, confident aI can do it.
You know, youth, egg and bacon is not that bad. In fact, when you have had a bit to much alcohol, egg and bacon is it. So, when you intend to make yourself impossible, you should see to it your mom and dad have egg and bacon in the refrigerator. The bacon, you know, is a bit crispy after steak. And the girls are desperately in love with what is s’mwhat crispy. And the eggs remind us of making, in a way. And the girls love that way. So to see to it that thing is in the refrigerator is s’mwhat intelligent. Making one sleep, lissom. And whatever the Jude says, the bacon is just s’mthing to be found in the cooling disk on the supermarked. And whatever the islam people say, the bacon is in fact scientifically controlled. And what the protein and the fat does aI have no intention of getting an idea of, since aI, at that point, am just thinking of getting sober. And having girls to love me.
This is insane. To contaminate my mattress like this is insane. The spots are from two spots aI found on my bed sheet, presumably blood, presumably made by a female during sexual intercourse, of which aI have no knowledge, and which aI have pointed to in two blog posts on Blogg Prixnix, in Norwegian. Ai sprayed the spots with Chlorine added sope, and added salt to the then wet spots, and this is the result under the bed sheet. The light is an ordinary candle light, the paper is an ordinary white paper in A4 format, and the bed sheet beneath the mattress is in light blue grey colour. Ai bought the mattress anew last summer. And the darkening of it varies from place to another.
And even if it is insane, presumably given me for to create a feeling of helplessness, dirtiness, powerlessness in my surroundings, to identify with as a poor one, it is so evil it cannot escape judgement. How dare people enter my apartment without my permission. How dare people change things in my apartment. How dare people, of which aI have no knowledge, and with which aI am in no situation, attack me.
The last couple of days, Satan has obviously mobilized. Ai have a bit of pain in my chest, a tiny scar on my thumb, a worn out body and a head which feels like it has been through a drying machine. Ai wonder if aI ever will be able to make music again. Obviously, God let the painful impact be resisted before that, for a while. And obviously the impact was strengthened a hundred times or so, and for that reason the last days have been terrible. Head ache. Ai have fought, in my mind, and aI have prayed, and by now it seems like Satan is dead by the beginning of the evil work. And right now, aI pray to the good Lord, that this counts for any one of the chosen ones. May there be no more ridiculing.