Allright. Let's see where we're standing. We have the 15th of May, five o'clock in the morning and I got up earlier to get some stuff done. As promised, no serious content this time--provided you scroll down to the main story. Cuz as usual I'll start the writing with a brief diary entry in which I blab about things that momentarily bug me, so I get them off my chest; it simply helps me to focus on the ideas of the main writing once it's out. So, let's do that quickly...
As I've mentioned in past posts, I let go of all drugs and I'm more or less free from my addictions. But that's not entirely true. Alcohol, nicotine and anal porn are still on my shopping list, so I'd lie to myself if I alleged that I'm totally free at the moment.
Now, alcohol is not an issue for me personally. Actually, most alcoholic drinks I hate. There are only a few drinks that I swallow once in a blue moon: tasteful Scotch whisky or Irish whiskey and a few bottles of beer when I meet with friends. I'd recommend those drinks to anyone and I pray to the universe that Allah may soon release a sequel to the Quran including that recommendation so that even devout, sweet-tempered, good-natured muslims out there no longer feel blasphemous when having a delicious Austrian beer. I hate getting drunk, I hate hangovers, and seeing how real alcoholics crawl through their private hells is warning enough for me to never have too much booze. In a nutshell, alcohol is not my problem.
I also don't consider my porn addiction a problem. In fact, I'm quite grateful that, despite of all my unhealthy life choices the last couple of years, I'm randy all day; and going vegan again will keep everything happy down there, I assume. What's more, at the moment I can't afford any services of our local sexworkers and no one else is fucking me. So, why shouldn't I watch messy movies at night when my favorite toy down there wants to vomit all day. There is just one thing I changed about that habit of mine since I saw the movie Pleasure --a Cannes-awarded Swedish movie about the contemporary porn industry in the US, pictured from a feminist angle. The movie tells a story about a cute, blonde, skinny Swedish girl that wants to be a porn star in the US. A few decent and famous male characters from the real contemporary porn industry serve as actors and play their sexist counterparts in a movie that portrays an industry that in sum--up to this day--is sexist, violent, racist and inhumane; definitely worth the watch. However, having seen that movie, I decided to pick only such movies where the girls aren't portrayed in a condescending way and obviously enjoy every part of the rite. For instance, I canceled deepthroats from my watchlist cuz I can't imagine that she would truly like that stuff, even if she smiles happily after spitting out cum. Anyway, porn is not my problem either.
My real problem that I can't get rid of so far is nicotine. The moment I write down these lines I'm smoking and the three packages a day I mentioned in an earlier post are now at least four packages daily. I sit here and do all kind of office stuff, writing, designing and reading, but while I'm doing that I permanently burn the fags down to the filter. I usually leave the house every third hour to buy a new pack of Chesterfield at the gas station on the opposite of the street and then continue feeding the little demons in my head*. I know that it would take me ridiculous three weeks of not smoking until these little bastards would eventually lack the energy to constantly yell for the drug, but at the moment that knowledge doesn't help; no ever so well-thought-out mindset can currently keep me from being stupid--and everyone everywhere who is currently smoking cigarettes is just that--stupid; no exception. Cuz face it: you hear it from others, you read it everywhere and you constantly experience it yourself... that smoking cigarettes is useless and unhealthy; and that nicotine is the most addictive drug of all.
Okay, before I'll start with the main story, I'll preach [to you and myself] a few lines from a book that helped me quit smoking for 12 years in the past (I put a link below). Maybe that'll help. Scroll down to the main story if you're non-smoker; you know all that.
- It costs you the dear--and the profit of these permanently rising direct taxes you pay when you buy that pack of cancer... those profits are very likely to be distributed to the governments and industries that brought that shit in the first place.
- It doesn't even taste good. In fact, it doesn't taste at all: The taste buds in our tongue makes us perceive five different tastes: sweet, salty, bitter, sour and umami. None of these describe the taste of a cigarette puff. You wouldn't be able to write a wine review about your favorite cigarette label since there's no taste. What your tongue perceives is merely disgust. Observe it yourself the next time you smoke if you think I'm bullshitting you. You're best smoking that one in front of the mirror just to let you know what your face looks like when you "enjoy the taste". Spoiler alert: You'll look as if you just ate shit.
- You won't get high. You may live as foolish as I do, meaning you're stupid enough to try every drug at least once in order to make up your own mind about what it's like. My big exception in that view is heroin. I've read, seen and heard enough to be fully convinced that once you try heroin, your life is over, you'll live a few more years for the drug and you'll soon end your then miserable life when you finally find a dealer who sells you the overdose. The reality about heroin is that harsh. It is that addictive, that dangerous, that hopeless; and whenever I see someone preparing a needle not far from me, I turn around, run as fast as I can until my feet bleed, just to make sure that this drug won't get me too. Anyway, the reason why people sometimes even take heroin voluntarily is cuz of an amazing high that makes you feel like you're in heaven; and that's what even heroin has in common with all the other drugs, nicotine beeing the great exception: In the beginning, it is useful cuz it helps you escape the harsh reality you can't handle at the time since it brings you an incomparable high, a temporary feeling of ecstasy, light-weight and joy that you won't feel without taking drugs. But I'm being licentious now. My point is, if you smoke a cigarette, you don't even have that. You have only the addiction. You only raise those little demons in your head that loudly yell "Gimme more" into your ear. Let them starve and they'll calm down.
- You smell and taste disgusting all the time. One cigarette is enough to smell like ashtray. You yourself will never notice it, friends who don't smoke might tolerate it, and maybe a few honest dudes may mention it politely once in a while. But minutes after you light up your first cigarette in the morning after your morning shower, you'll smell worse than a homeless dude who didn't have a shower for weeks. What is more, your non-smoking girlfriend/boyfriend doesn't enjoy French kisses as much as you do since she has to lick up the entire ashtray every tim his/her tongue touches yours.
- The sooner you quit, the higher the chances you won't die from it. Everything you just read in the last two paragraphs I got from a guy who spent his lifetime on convincing people that quitting nicotine is easy and only takes three weeks. When I read his book I stopped smoking for seven years, then smoked another three months; and remembering his well-thought-out mindset helped me stop smoking for another twelve years. Today, I'm counting about three years since I started smoking again; and every time, after years without cigarettes, I fall for the drug and smoke much more than I smoked before. The writer I told you about--formerly a heavy smoker--preached his ideas for about thirty years without consuming any cigarette. A few years ago--passive smoking among smokers might not have done him a favor--he died on lung cancer...
Okay, I think I'm done. Let's get to the funny part. Hope you enjoy.
My so far desperate endeavors
trying to convert the ravers into metalheads
Those of you who know me personally may have noticed that I cherish solitude and barely leave the house. (That's a bit paradoxical, by the way: On the one hand loneliness makes me suffer; on the other hand I need plenty of time for myself, Anyway...) I pretty much spent a coma at home the last decade, probably due to my mental disease that I've written about fairly little so far. That's cuz--as I've told you--I'll teach madness gently. Just so much for a start, I need a safe haven I can escape to when paranoid episodes are on the rise. However, lately my mental health improved considerably and I continued hanging out in the city with my best friends again. Years have gone by since I enjoyed life in the real world out there; and when I eventually crawled out of my cave, not dissolving into dust when sunlight touched my skin, I realized that METAL IS DEAD.
Fortunately, I kept and defiled a few cadavers in my cave (--you know them as YouTube-Videos) while it happened and I'm about to dig out some holes and put up some tombstones so that you as a compassionate friend can help me mourn adequately. Luckily, my cave has always been a tiny, cozy temple for metal culture and as it turns out, it is now what the Vatican is for the Roman Catholic Church; and when I tell you stories from the HeavyMetal fairyland, I'm usually telling you about what is left of a once worldwide empire.
Many things in this cave may arouse you. For instance, as a matter of fact, I do have little fairies in there. I smuggled a handful of them from Ireland and keep them in little cages cuz they usually bite cock-blocking visitors when I let them fly around. They feast on Death Metal blast-beats and bark, scream and moan to choruses of my At The Gates lullabies at night, when I turn off the light. Strange thing about fairies, they die if the don't have that proper diet and meditation setting. If you wonder why there are only few fairies left and people even come to this naive conclusion that they don't exist – that's why: Because people stopped nourishing them. In Styria, Austria's largest federal state, we already knew about the ongoing fairy extinction back in the day and we had the necessary resources to produce Metal within the region. In order to keep stocks high we produced on a regular basis and to keep breeding fairy mother's healthy, we invested in quality over quantity. But cock-blockers and tit-hiders from the conservative political spectrum did everything to wipe out the fairy population. And the few concerts were metalheads catered for fairy satisfaction were regularly corrupted by those envy people. They found out that by only turning down the volume of a Metal live performance fairies don't feel the groove they emotionally need in order to bang their heads ecstatically; and they found out that every time you turn off a Metal song a fairy dies. Cruel bastards.
Today fairy research is scientifically neglected and what people think to know about fairies nowadays may stem from foul stories people tell about them. I realized that when I visited my first Drum and Base concert about a year ago in a former post office garage. (Spoiler alert: there were no drums.) When I asked for the ticket prices they said "15 bucks each". I was a bit suspicious then, because at a time when I myself catered for the environment, we would charge about 5 bucks per visitor. So I asked the cutie at the box office what kind of music they usually play in this garage. She said "We play absolutely everything, except Metal." Perplexed by her answer I got goose bumps and started shivering. I might have been about to enter an institution that in their very nature was cock-blocking, tit-hiding or even speciecist. Whether my assumption was right or too far-fetched I had to figure out personally. So I decided to spy on the local industry to find out more about rave culture. To give you an idea, I'll first compare Metal with Rave.
We already found out that the ravers don't have drums, so they can't produce blast-beats. But, by the way, metalheads don't necessarily need or like blast-beats either. It's an element that we usually have in uncompromising Death-Metal and Black-Metal, not so much in Metalcore, T[h]rash Metal, hardly ever in Power Metal, True Metal and New Metal, and never in Progressive Metal, Gothic Metal, Techno Metal, Hardrock or Scandinavian Schlager. By the way, you can light a candle upon a single tombstone by clicking one of the links. If you listen, for instance, to an entire Black Metal song from the beginning to the end, ancient evil, mostly satanic creatures from the past may be unleashed but you may also attract starving fairies in the neighborhood.
Anyway, ravers, unlike metalheads don't sing. There are usually a few motivation coaches on stage who pretend to be rappers, but the music usually comes from two instruments: the mixer and the turntables. Whereas you sometimes have entire orchestras to perform live in Metal, in rave music, Techno and DnB only a few guys put all sophistication into these two (or a combination of both in one device) and maybe a personal computer.
WORK IN PROGRESS
* Borrowed plumes in this writing:
Allen Carr'S Easy Way to Stop Smoking
Endlich Nichtraucher – Allen Carr
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