I have people in my brain

I just came back from the cinema. We went to see an action movie with my son. He loved it and I sort of loved the Japanese chicks in it, plus he had nachos and I had a beer and a couple of cigarettes, as it was an outdoor theatre. Everyone was happy.
When we got to the car and headed home, he started mumbling happily, yet distractingly, while I was just going “aha aha”. Then, I started coughing and I’ve had this nasty cough for weeks now, so I told him to stop talking for a sec, so I could cough in peace. He kept quiet and I put the radio up and half-sung, half-coughed along to “it smells like teen spirit”.
Then I passed outside a friend’s house and felt a strange metaphysical wind blowing, like I finally was able to appreciate the significance of things and people… like there were people close to me, whose metaphysical communicating abilities with myself I underestimated, due to elevated pride levels, coupled with self-awareness. Those films make you feel like you too could be a hero in the ninja battle your life seems to be at times and that in the end of the day, that might be a pretty cool way of looking at it. I guess wondering around the things you want like Kafka’s K, around the castle, without no one really listening or offering any useful directions of how to obtain them, can make you feel confound literally and metaphorically. However, the messages your brain confers are not just a monologue, it’s a critical recombination of brain waves from all people involved with you. Go tell me that I’m full of irrational rubbish and I’ll tell you it’s almost like a globally accepted truth that was never really proven, but not really that far fetched considering that chemical and electromagnetic signalling is means of thought… Why then not communication too?
Sadly, needy people always create surrounding noise for those inter-brain communication frequencies. That’s probably why needy people (over 16 – non-dependent – non-children) can be dangerous for science, love and the brain. It’s like trying to listen to a song you really like on the radio, while someone is making small-talk from the back seat. Needy people should be eliminated by ninjas (in a matrix context), alternatively I’ve always thought (having grown up with a needy sister) that writing is means of exoscising them.

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Freedom

Trying too much for yourself and someone else, who has given up, is really an inability to look inwards and as a consequence, critically outwards. But then again, people are always on the wrong when it comes to relationships, what matters is for two people to be willing to still consider each other infinitely. But what if someone has hurt you and would like to apologise? Do you just forget that a little time ago they actively inflicted pain and that in order to do that, they must have got something out of it? I never got those heartwarming apologies. I almost never forgive, even though I seem like I forget, well except for this one time when he didn’t fear to show himself and what he showed was so honest, I couldn’t but accept it. If you really want to forgive someone you care about, you actually have to find a way to inflict the same amount of pain. I’m sorry, but I don’t see a less vengeance prone way of maintaining equality.
I’ve been wondering for years, why do gays seem to be in the most equal, commited and loving relationships, than anyone I know? Well, I guess because they don’t follow behavioural patterns and protocols they inherited uncritically. Everything is a counteraction until proven otherwise and thus history is DIY, made in real time, it’s not pre-manufactured.
I don’t like emotional bullying from uninspired confused people, if you’re gonna hurt me do it right, for the right dark, sadomazochistic reasons and don’t look for cover afterwards like a sissy little child. Above all leave out the apology, that only makes sense a long long time afterwards when you are fully aware of the consequences.
Why pretend that life is hard, when it is hard for anyone living it, not merely pretending to…?
Why pretend you’re spoiled for choice? Love is what you work for and you only get a couple of real chances in life to find yourself honestly up for the deep pleasures of the hard work love is.
…Passing time with uninspired confused people is ok also.

Forever young

 

Wow! This song came on while I was driving home lastnight and it made me feel so glad to get to hear it again. I could have gone through life without ever remembering it had existed in the background of those dark moist times of puberty and having had the chance of reliving that primitive teenage fatalistic sensation. I was about to pull out a piece of paper to make a memo so I wouldn’t forget, but I didn’t, as I’m 30something and sensible with driving. The first thing I did when I got home was to look for it… and there it was sung by this guy called Errol Brown. Who the hell is Errol? I wondered and naturally looked Errol up. He turns out to be more than a cool guy, having written songs, such as “You sexy thing” and “Secret Rendezvous”, yey, a man who knows his memes. Anyway, Errol made me think about┬áthe terrible proximity one has the tendancy to feel to their puberty. A million different phases have passed since then and yet that time seems to raise a mighty emotional response to replayed memes that predominated at the time.

I went to the cemetery the other day, as it was my late mum’s birthday and felt I should bring her or well, her decaying bones some flowers. I’m sorry I’m this cynical, but whenever I think of my mum, I think of someone dear inhabiting the cemetery, which really makes me think I am nowhere near accepting her death. In fact it is almost like accepting the death of a big piece of yourself, or well someone you related to greatly and felt attached to since birth, which is something no one who’s still alive can easily do. Anyway, it’s an ever ending paradox, I’ve accepted that.

So, I was excited in a tearful sense, as I would for once go to the cemetery in celebration, not of her death and disease, but of her birth, which gave birth to my birth and everyone else’s (referring to siblings, son, nephews and nieces) and her wonderful presence in our lives. So I bought a nice yellow pot plant and some sunflowers, since she loved anything yellow and they didn’t have any yellow roses and hung around for a while, watering the other pot plants and rearranging them and having a cigarette or two and thinking of her, trying to remind myself not to wish “happy birthday” – jesus death really stretches my brain to its limits. I was thinking about how pretty and independent she usually was and how she loved to tease her kids and grandchildren (all spoiled brats, by the way). She had this sarcastic┬ásense of humour, which drove all three of us nuts, as we could never tell if she was serious or not.

So anyway, I was so happy to remember her like that for once and be there alone with her, without everyone else’s bullshit, because what I usually can’t get over and can’t begin to find a way to joke about, is how she died… It is terribly tormenting that she still felt young and she still made fun of us, until the last months when she lost herself in what else? cancer. It was like watching a teenager age within months. I never felt she was that much older than me, because she never behaved like she was, even though she was incredibly dependable for anyone she loved. It was just her soul, which always preserved that teenage playfulness.

Hope I made you weep about someone dear, you lost, but it wasn’t the point. My point was that no matter how old you get, your synapses seem to remain stuck at that overall mentality you had when it stopped growing (at 16) and you feel ridiculous at times, not behaving your age and feeling flooded by a sea of emotions just by hearing a silly song (no offence Errol, I think you’re way cool). Amazing! The limits were set at the age of 16-17 and all they had us thinking about at the time was how to get into university. If that’s not a global conspiracy, please tell me what is.

Men, women and baboons

 

Thelma Rowell is a biologist known for working with baboons in the 1960s. Her work was groundbreaking, not only because she changed the way the scientific community viewed hierarchy and competition in primates, but predominantly because she was a pioneer for an ideological and political movement called feminist primatology. A movement which placed women in an advantageous position in ethology (the study of animal behaviour) in relation to men and turned compassion, which was considered a weakness, into a scientific strength.

Initially, she faced discrimination by the male establishment of scientists, due to her sex. It was nothing but the average discrimination a woman-scientist might be faced with in 1960s Europe, just what was going on at the time, so she opted for a career of field-work with baboons in Uganda (Ishasha). What was noteworthy about her approach was her skepticism towards previous studies designed by men who fashioned their experiments in such a way that would pretty much guarantee them the expected conclusion in a relatively brief period of time.

Thelma on the other hand attempted to minimise stress caused by her, the observer, thus minimising simplification and maximising the possibility of her observations being a realistic take of what goes on in the wild. What she found was that the rigidity of the previously described hierarchy in primates was actually a result of what one would expect in any mammal society faced with stress for resources. In addition, she found that what was previously considered a patriarchy was really a society where relationships between all members of the group was based on a constant process of kinship and maintainance through grooming and sharing. They even seemed to reconcile differences through affectionate gestures. Females were far from being subordinate in a resourceful natural environment, even though the sex of each animal played a role in how they would distribute their time.

Rowell in other words, proved that dominance is an artefact projecting the stress faced by humans and reproducing it. I suppose, the stress is indeed a reality in human societies, but the aggressive and manipulative manner in which human males take pride in dealing with it should one day be the object of extensive study by baboons.

Complicated people

 

The conclusions I came to after spending time with Penny:

Complicated people have complicated faces

Real people behave akwardly

Real intentions lie in actions

Honesty takes time and silent contemplation

Love is capable of exhibitting playfulness when confronted with ugliness and betrayal

Happiness is dreaming about the future

Togetherness requires space

When minds interact on a chemical level, no external force can separate them, just lack of faith in what is currently considered metaphysical

Cockroaches always prevail