Ride the LightningRock'n' roll!Technically, power metal with those adorable Germanic electro frills, but anyway, this is what makes you feel alive. Until the concert ends and it's a big scary world again with your white ass in mortal peril.Hello; I'm Kjartan, and this is the last day of my life. No, don't feel sorry for me, I'm not sick or anything - just sick of my town being turned into a refugee camp. Some of you might call me a copycat, or a stupid, deformed teenager, or a victim of society. Do I look like I give a fuck, as I walk down the street with a revolver in my pocket and my favorite music blasting on full volume in my ears?Didn't think so.I
Medicalized ThoughtIt is of course possible to induce a delusion in which the world is perfect, and the subject feels good, acts well-adjusted to any circumstances, no matter how absurd or adverse. With the right drugs and therapeutic techniques, it can be done.But there comes a point of question: wouldn't it be more practical to alter the circumstances, instead of suppressing and/or reversing one's emotional reactions to them? Indeed, if the objective of the (medical) establishment would be to ensure the well-being of the people, the practical approach would favor fixing the causes instead of dampening the effects. Prohibition of expression is not the same a
A FolktaleOne day the Wanderer flew on a sparrow's wing over the sacred lands, where the fair folk once set out from, to the sea to conquer land and prove its right to own the crystal mountains. He saw great changes among them; in some places they were scarcely recognizable, living in new ways, blending with strangers. From bird's eye view his eyes delighted in the buildings they wrought, but getting closer an uneasy feeling descended upon him.He saw a funeral procesion bedecked with flowers and solemn in attire, gathered in front of a stately building. "Who died?" he asked, "Whose death are you singing for?" But their answer he could scarcely believ
hmmThe PsychiatristA catalogue of butterfliesproperly filed and labeled -over their agony and deathfor hours have you labored.Here's this iridescent blue,sweet madness in the sun,or a milder yellow hue -but something's always gone.To understand their faery flight,the wings you dissect every night,yet never really find a clue -and tired, as your work is done,you wonder, might heresy be true:for that, you must fly as one?Close the folder, spread your wings:there's a real world, with live things.SisyphusAs the boulder rolls againdown, down, down -I think of the fool I have beenwith my gilded crown.But as
2 poemsProverbialThe greeds of the many versus needs of the few -they hate me just because I love you.If nobody believes it, is it still true?The lies of the many versus the few with a clue.CatWatch him stalk through grass and scrubland,watch him jump into a tree -ever watchful, ever joyful,gently ignores you and me.Not touched by the curse of wisdom,never a care in the world,eternal grace on four legs andinnocent death with tail curled.Longing for this is but folly,the twisted ladder life foretells -but on certain days, by golly,envy low in my heart dwells.
Acceptance and Common SenseAccepting differences can be a good thing. I accept if you're not a cutter, don't like cats, or have a different sexual preference than mine. But there's difference and difference. The limit, generally, is your own skin - and mine.For example, if you force your wife to dress like a ninja, or your daughter to marry a guy she doesn't like (or even know), or you deny your kid lifesaving medical care, that extends beyond your skin and thus I'm not obliged to stand idly by or even assist you, in the name of acceptance. On the contrary, I've a moral duty to intervene, either by involving the authorities, or if that isn't feasible or necessary, by
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