I'm not very good at this free falling business.

Feeling weird today. There is no joy in the world.

Sometimes I feel like I'm in control of most things, then I realize that I'm not.

My jokes are getting worse and worse. Worse and worse and worse.

Allow yourself to care, and you start caring immediately. It just takes a hell of a lot of courage; taking somebody else's pain and making it yours.

Daniel Johnston.

Today I watched The Snowman, and my father told me how he found his father after his father had killed himself. There is sorrow in endings.

I had a dream where I was supposed to spend one night in a little house surrounded by darkness. I don't know exactly what the house was, or where it was, but it was somewhere in the countryside. I was almost too terrified to look out the window, but when I did, I saw two people approaching the house in the darkness. For some inexplicable reason, I opened the front door and watched as they came nearer. Soon they were standing in front of me and wanted to come in. I knew that horrible things would happen if I let them in, so I told them no. The more aggressive man started fighting his way in, so I had to push him back. He ended up falling, somehow breaking the back of his head. Later it turns out that the aggressive man was Daniel Johnston, and after the incident he'd actually drawn a picture where a hugely muscular person (me, apparently) was ruthlessly beating him up. He was going to show the picture to the police as a piece of evidence.

Charlie Chaplin's life was quite depressing, and here I am in 2014, once again discussing micropenises.

Jesus!

Let's face it, really silly things excite me.

What

This is so very fucked up.

Wherever. So many doors are closed, but I want to go wherever. And this is my personal goal in life: to go wherever, not even closing my eyes. No lies, just wherever, not being in such terrible pain that I can't look around and see the world around me.

If the door is closed, and it often is, I'll climb in through the topmost window.

Until I find the way to do that, I am outside and you are in, and I'm writing stories that only I could tell.

Goodbye "The Nordic Justin Bieber. I'm a joke, but take me seriously. I'm 20, criminal and ridiculously ambitious. And always in love, and bored. A lost cause really. I'll probably be famous."

I am horrible

and now I have to write a book

so, seriously, blogging stops now.

now.

now.

Sorry, 16-year-old me

but I choose love

I'm tired as Jesus. Maybe even more. Jesus. Jesus. When I'm tired, everything is Jesus.

I have no idea what I've been talking about for the past few hours. My responses have been robotic.

These days, when I sleep, my dreams are weird and strong. I'm about to sleep again.

I'm possibly gonna take a break from blogging. Especially activism. I'll do that stuff a bit later in life. First, I've got a book to write. A couple of them, actually. Oh Jesus how I love them. The books. And Jesus. Jesus was 5ft 1 (155 cm) and weighed 110 pounds (50 kg).

Btw, the reason that I post these long rants about ethics is that there's a possibility that eventually in the future, I will have a career and somebody may actually want to read these.

Not that I want you to read them, my friends living in 2014. Don't do it, they're depressing.

Elise Andrew and the annoying vegans

I think that it's a really good thing that "I Fucking Love Science" exists.

One of the most important things to understand about the human psyche is that people are playing identity games all the time. To humans, things like facts are secondary compared to our need to identify with the people and the things that we consider socially good. Socially, we want to be on the winning side, and in most cases, we want to be normal. When we don't want to be normal, we want to be one of the cool dissidents. More than anything else, we want to be a part of a group that we consider socially better than the other groups.

Therefore it's great that we now have a popular Facebook page presenting science as something neat. "Loving science" has become a "cool" thing to do. "Geekiness" is something that people want to identify themselves with. This is nice, because it means that there are more people than ever before interested in scientific progress.

But there's one quite problematic thing about IFLS that many have started to notice over the past months.

One thing is that in the IFLS universe, things like factory farming simply don't exist. They do publish important articles like this one, but all in all, the animal industry is never mentioned. They write about climate change, but they systematically ignore the meat industry's role in it.

The fact that other animals are conscious like us is scientific reality, so it would make sense to at least mention that we currently have an industry that's producing and, well, torturing hundreds of billions of them when we could, well, simply eat something else.

This is happening and it would make sense to say something about it.

I mean: you have the power to really educate people about these things and make things better.

Still, the silence is understandable. You know, you can just sincerely forget to mention things. The more alarming thing is that, over the past months, IFLS has actually published a couple of really shaky anti-vegan articles. They've either been silly pseudoscience easy to debunk, or the article has presented actual scientific findings in a way that turns the whole thing into something that the scientists never said. You can't justify this by later explaining that you were just kind of joking. You know that people are reading it as factual information.

The person behind the page is Elise Andrew. People – vegans and omnivores alike – have asked her to explain why I Fucking Love Science is publishing such unscientific stuff when it comes to the subject of veganism. This is where we get to the most alarming thing: Andrew's reaction.

I saw a guy ask Andrew to explain her motives, and very elegantly and appropriately reminding her that with IFLS, she really has the power to make a difference in terms of animal welfare. Elise Andrew's response? "Fuck off."

When people discussed the matter on Andrew's personal Facebook page, she actually deleted the comments that disagreed with her viewpoint. Deleted. For example, someone named Michael Fry-White commented:

"Not vegan, but admirable of them. They make a pretty large sacrifice for their beliefs. How about letting them be? Eventually we will live in an animal-meat free world and you people will sound like my South African friend's racist grandparents, only your comments immortalized on the internet."

A very good comment... Deleted.

Considering that Richard Dawkins is one of Andrew's heroes, it would be interesting to know what she thinks of the fact that Dawkins' opinion on meat-eating is pretty similar to the view expressed by Michael in the comments section:

"I would like everybody to be a vegetarian", says Richard. "In 100 or 200 years time, we may look back on the way we treated animals today as something like we today look back on the way our forefathers treated slaves."

I think that this is rather inevitable. It's only a question of when. The job of activists is to make the change as easy and fast as possible.

As for Andrew, the question is why. Why the... hmm, emotionally charged response to the topic of veganism? The cynical answer is that she's apparently working for a company that profits from animal testing. Another possibility is that she's simply annoyed by vegans. A lot of people are. Really, when the whole society is kicking dogs in the head, the person who refuses to kick dogs in the head is annoying; they're making you question your own actions. More importantly, they're making you question your own identity. You identify as a "good person", and it's like they're saying that they're better than you. That is uncomfortable, and uncomfortable easily turns into annoying.

In any case, it is dangerous when one person's human irrationalities affect the way a page this popular presents scientific information. As humans we are full of irrationalities, all of us, but in this case we're talking about a page that reaches millions and millions of people every day. You can't escape the huge responsibility by simply telling people to fuck off.

I don't, however, think that posting a couple of silly articles is that dangerous. All in all, IFLS are doing a great job. They're educating people about many extremely important issues. They're making science cool. I just really, really, really hope that the future is brighter and that posting a couple of silly articles wasn't just a start for something that could actually harm the planet and its animals.

I believe in Elise Andrew. She's smart as hell, and I'm pretty sure she's good too. So I'm not actually expecting things to get worse... It's just that you can never know.

_______________

P.S.

Andrew says that vegans have "threatened to kill her". Now, I don't know if this is true, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was. There are lunatics in every social movement, and I'm painfully aware of the fact that there are quite a lot of people in the animal rights movement acting in idiotic ways. Calling people murderers and just generally being stupid.

Acting idiotically is understandable in this case. You realize what's going on, and you realize that most people are actively ignoring what's going on and mocking you when you try to speak up. When things are this fucked up, it's easy to respond with aggression.

But the aggression isn't helping the animals at all. Jesus, how I wish that animal rights activists stopped behaving in ways that only make the situation worse for the animals. Activists should

1) realize that their own irrational human psyche is sometimes making them behave in ways that make effective activism impossible,

2) realize that understanding the mechanisms of the human psyche is the key to making the animal rights movement mainstream.

What we're doing now isn't working. -> Let's do something else.

_______________

P.P.S.

I hope that activists realize how important it is to get the pop science people on our side. Maybe 20-30 years from now I Fucking Love Science won't exist anymore, but there'll at least be something similar, and we'll probably live in a world where cultured meat has become a reality. With cultured meat it will be, socially and psychologically, a LOT easier to get people on our side. Popular science media could play an important role in introducing the product to the public and countering the pseudoscience of the animal industry. The animal industry will be frightened, and they will be aggressive, and we need someone to stand up for the facts.

So. Let's not be stupid now.

The world outside is covered in snow
my room is warm
and everything I eat tastes like heaven.
Soon I'll go out and ride buses

I don't sleep very much these days, and when I do, it usually happens when everyone else is awake, and this has blurred the passing of time dramatically.

Don't let your heart kill your brain, and don't let your brain kill your heart, and you will be an okay human being.

It's difficult as fuck, I know

John Lydon's teeth, and so on

If I should meet thee

After long years

How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears.

I have a whole new life.

I look like the saddest kind of youth criminal. Like those kids who kill other kids because the other kids are so much better-looking. I have to find pride in who I am. I will never look like a hero. That doesn't matter as long as I can find the guts to be a hero.

I used to spend time fantasizing about writing an autobiography. How I would tell this story, how I'd recreate my life and make myself seem heroic in it so that everybody would like me. (Why is this child talking about a life story that doesn't even exist yet?) But I'm starting to realize that the whole point of writing autobiographies is honesty.

Anyway, I watched a documentary where Stephen Fry waddles around the world to see how gay people are treated in different countries. I like Stephen Fry. He's so cute and British and sympathetic. Although I can imagine that trying to explain animal rights to Stephen Fry would probably be like him trying to explain gay rights to a priest in Uganda. I'm not sure why. I may be wrong, but I have a feeling that he might be someone who's spent decades fighting for his rights and isn't necessarily open to the idea of fighting for the rights of others after all this. You just want to breathe out. I can understand that. I may be wrong. If I'm wrong, correct me. Always correct me if I'm wrong.

20 minutes ago I stumbled upon this ridiculous thing written by Tim Booth: "I’ve been swimming with Dolphins in the wild many times. I will eat most things. It’s the paradox of life – we kill to live. But there are some creatures off the menu." Jesus fucking Christ! Here we go again. There's this disgusting idea that only dogs, cats and dolphins matter. Most other vertebrates exist only to be used for the convenience of humans. You see, if we don't produce, torture and kill thousands and thousands and thousands of billions of pigs, cows, birds and fish, Tim Booth will simply stop living. Tim Booth has this medical condition that requires systematic cruelty and violence towards the most vulnerable individuals in the world. Otherwise he just dies. Let us keep the wheels of the most violent industry in known history turning, so that Tim Booth can keep living.

Tim Booth

Btw, John Lydon, the existence of your teeth isn’t forcing you to support the meat industry any more than the existence of your hands is forcing you to strangle your neighbours.

People can sometimes force themselves to be somewhat rational when it comes to simple stuff like mathematics, but when it's about things like morality, people get hysterical and emotional and defensive and, quite simply, start yelling and stop thinking.

Most people can't work around taboos. The taboos are there and people can't see through them and look at the matter in hand. For a human being, it is more or less impossible to see reality as it is, but when you're letting even the most inane ideas of the surrounding culture restrict your own thinking, your own thinking stops happening. Don't be so afraid. Challenge yourself, every day.

Most people don't think, because they already have the prevailing culture telling them that left is right and that black is white and that people with dark skin are slaves and that women are reproduction machines and that what we do to animals is acceptable.

The ideas of the prevailing culture can be absurd and downright horrific, but humans adopt them because... well, it's the easier thing to do. It's so much easier than thinking.

I started thinking about this again recently when I visited Sweden to see Morrissey in Göteborg. I happened to read this article. It's about Swedish Morrissey fans sitting and discussing their Morrissey fandom. It's a sympathetic article, not very remarkable; I did however remark something jättekonstigt about the comments of one of the participants, script writer Peter Birro. (Apparently I can read Swedish to some extent.)

Anyway, Peter seems really nice. He seems like a person I'd sincerely like, and it would probably be really nice to spend time with him. But there's one strange recurring theme in his comments. He keeps returning to it, I don't know, maybe there's something going on in his heart.

Peter Birro (whose name is very beautiful, by the way; I am jealous, I admit it) refers to Morrissey's vegetarianism as "fundamentalistic". You know, Morrissey is the crazy fanatic here, blabbering crazy religious ideas like "We shouldn't torture individuals with human-like cognitive abilities".

Of course, Birro himself has no ideology at all, because he's just a normal person: "Vegetarianism is a side of Morrissey that says nothing to me about my life," he says, and then tells us that he respects Morrissey's vegetarianism anyway (hurting animals is okay as long as you remember to respect people who don't do it), but he "grew up with pappa's lamb stews". Well, that is great. In a society where everybody has slaves, the guy who refuses to have slaves is The Weird One With The Extreme Views.

 

Birro must naturally mention this comment that Morrissey made a few years ago right after a man named Breivik had murdered dozens of people in Norway:

"Despite the love, we do live on a murderous planet, as you will have seen in the last few days in Norway. Murder, murder, murder. Really, every single day worse things happen in Kentucky Fried Shit and McDonald's. Murder, murder, murder, murder, murder."

Birro thinks that these words are "distasteful".

I think that they are inconsiderate. The timing was awful. We should have empathy for the victims' families; it's not the time for agendas. Besides, suffering is suffering. It's not a race. (I've already written about the case here.) And hurting people's feelings is not effective activism.

Yet, what he said was true. Of course his words are distasteful, but what's a lot more distasteful than inconsiderate words is the fact that we're torturing hundreds of billions – hundreds of billions – of sentient animals every single year. Simply because we want to eat animal burgers instead of seitan burgers. It's happening every second of the day. It's happening while I'm typing this. It's happening while Peter and friends sit and discuss Morrissey. Hundeds of billions of individuals, suffering for nothing. Somebody must say something.

I may disagree with Morrissey's style when it comes to activism, but it's the distasteful morrisseys that are and have always been responsible for starting necessary revolutions. The nice people gasp. They want to be nice. And then, when the meaning of 'nice' slowly changes... the nice people follow. Thinking is painful, and saying the truth out loud takes a certain amount of insanity, and Morrissey certainly has a certain amount of that.

Anyway, this is pretty crazy in itself, letting details like these annoy me so much, writing such long blog posts about it. Based on 95% of the stuff that Peter Birro said in the article, I love him. I'm almost 100% certain that he's a wonderful person. It's just that too many individuals here have spent their whole lives in ruins because of people who are "nice".

I have a lot to be proud of.

Jesus, I'm a lot less infuriating than half a year ago.

It's like I'm 10 years older.

Another theory

There’s quite a lot of pain in my life, and I’m starting to think that I should figure out what to do with it. How to respond to it, how to use it. One option is bitterness, apathy, anger, spending your life trying to make others as miserable as you are. Then there’s the road that can actually make a difference. Learning. This road can 'heal' you. It’s not going to be easy, but I want to become a person who does not judge and hate, but sees that behind most evil, there is usually pain. It may be just an irritating little tingling in your heart, or it may be excruciating headache 24/7, but it is pain that is limiting our ability to think and do the right thing. Try to see that, try to see yourself in the most vicious idiot, and you may be able to change the world. (Ignore the psychopaths.)

I believe that most cruelty is dysfunction. Something is not working and can be fixed. Wars, rapes, hate crimes, bullfights, fish bowls on tables. It is blindness, and one can start seeing again. Society can start seeing again. Biologically, there is a lot of potential for darkness in us, but there is also enough potential for light. Therefore there is hope. See clearly, think rationally, believe in information, believe in psychology, believe in people, and you can change the world.

1:35

Oh Morrissey, you know how it feels

It's bigger than anything else, and nothing compares.

God I feel horrible II

God I feel horrible

It's shocking to realize how wounded everybody is

Pretending to be a philistine because it's funny

The tunnel at the end of the light

I am a goalkeeper

Usually to be able to listen to a song and like it, I have to somehow like or understand or identify with the person who sang it. The artist is important. But then there are exceptions. Regina Spektor could have killed and eaten her own family, but I wouldn't care, because she wrote Us

Fuck yeah.

I can live this crazy story.

This sad bouquet

Some day I'll stop and look around me and realize that I've come home.

I love Marge Simpson

So it seems that this night was full of love

Yes

I will start the revolution, but first I'll need Fame so that they'll listen to what I have to say.

In the company of virgins

I'm experiencing one of those 'flow' states at the moment, and I'm deciding to do nothing with it

I like The Beatles so much

and I don't even particularly like their music.

I think I could fall in love with you

I'm ready to do it again. Bring it on!

I realized that I was watching really strange porn and started laughing and decided to go to bed.

I honestly love it when people make fun of me tongue-in-cheek (it tells me that they like me), but sometimes there's a darker motive and that's Satanic and I don't like it.

Bad for some time

I'll stop pretending that I'm good.

I'll be just as bad, just as good as I am. That is something.

I'm the hero of this story, I don't need to be saved

I've noticed this mechanism of ideology:

You always overestimate the number of your enemies.

Timothy Treadwell and Werner Herzog

 
Grizzly Man is a great documentary.

It's not a documentary about bears. It's a documentary about a very complex human being.

The only problem with the documentary is Werner Herzog, the director himself. He should remember that he's an artist telling this story about human psychology. He knows how to do that, and he's very good at that. When he starts to talk about bears, it gets stupid.

Timothy Treadwell seems to have this childish idea of the natural world being a world of "harmony". Werner Herzog, on the other hand, disagrees and claims that the natural world is a world of "murder" and other mean things. That is equally childish. Enough with the teenage angst, Werner!

Treadwell and Herzog are both wrong. The natural world is not a paradise, but it's not "evil" either. It's full of things that we consider "bad" and full of things that we consider "good", but essentially it's neutral.

Timothy seems to think that the wild bears are basically humans. He doesn't realize that the bears don't love him like he loves them; he's an irrational romantic. Werner claims that the bears are some kind of emotionless robots mainly interested in food. Why? Because that's what he "sees" when he looks into their eyes; he's an irrational romantic.

Yes, bears are not humans. But it's a scientific, biological fact that they are social animals that share our capacity for feeling. The world of bears is often violent, but it's also full of things like play, joy and friendship. Herzog can't see that because bears don't communicate their emotions the same way that humans do. In other words, he's like a dog thinking that humans can't feel joy just because humans don't wag their tails. Ask Jonathan Balcombe, he knows this stuff.

Anyway, it's a beautiful documentary, and both Timothy and Werner seem like very decent human beings after all. Here's one unrelated bear playing with his human friend, both of them getting the joke:

You are a pathetic drunk!

This is my poetry blog.

I've been jealous all my life

James Dean is important to me again. East of Eden just makes a lot of sense to me. You all should see that. James Dean and I should be friends. It would be nice to not feel really short all the time.

Lana Del Rey is a good joke, I don't think she's being serious. I'm still kind of drunk.

I have to stop pretending that I have answers when I actually don't. Living through this is not easy, but it's not impossible either. The answers don't need to be extreme.

...

Girls should learn to open their mouths when they are right. And boys should learn to stop talking when they are wrong.

...

There's a house... and Vivian Maier... and an old gay man... and a black boy... who's a thief... and then there's JW... ... ... and ghosts

He held your hand and he sang you a song

I think that this song is pretty much perfect:

I'm always ready to lose everybody and everything. Then again that sounds overly dramatic and silly. We are such fools, all of us. It's great to be human.

What Jesus said

"If you want to find true happiness, stop masturbating."

Stop kissing that ass, you silly fools

Breathe out and you can see the poetry in your pain.

Yeah, it's so poetic that it's almost ridiculous. But I don't want it. You can have it if you need it.

If I didn't write, I'd be dead already.

My flower-like life

You grow up thinking that you're one of the lucky kids. Then somewhere along the line things fall apart and you realize that you're one of the doomed ones.

But being doomed doesn't mean that life is going to destroy you. It just means that it's going to be a little harder on you than it is on most people. But maybe it's the contrast that can make your life greater than most lives: you've been through the dark stuff, so maybe after the things you saw earlier, the good stuff seems brighter.

Let's be honest for once: things fell apart a long long time ago and I haven't done much to deal with it. I'm just bitter and angry. Wow! Am I fucked up.

It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out. Don't ask me what's wrong with me, because I simply don't have any answers. I need advice, I need advice, nobody ever looks at me twice.

Fuck it.

Be BRAVE. Even when it's impossible. Especially when it's impossible.

Treat a friend as you would want them to treat you.

The name of this blog means something. I'm on your side.

I remember how I went to a loud concert when I was 17. After that I realized that my ears had started ringing. The ringing felt like the end of the world. For a week I was almost suicidal.

Then one day I simply thought: Okay. I have tinnitus. The sound is there and it's never going to go away. The sound is a fact. But there's no reason why it should be a bad thing.

And then I just never thought about it again. It is a neutral fact.

For years I didn't even hear it. I'm simply not afraid of the sound anymore and therefore not listening to it. It recently got worse and then I heard it for one evening, but then I forgot about it again and it virtually disappeared.

This is my greatest success story so far. I want to be able to look at everything I cannot change like this. As neutral facts that are not scary. Someday I'll get there.

There's something disturbing about the documentary American Vagabond. Its central character, a young gay man named James Temple, is homeless after running away from a mentally violent home; James tells how his father Jim used to abuse him verbally, tell him to kill himself, and eventually abandoned him; James talks about how he was traumatized after seeing his dad torture a bird on a hunting trip, and how he decided that he simply didn't want to see animals get killed anymore.

But the documentary ends with a letter James has written to his father: "I love you, dad. ... I'd love to go hunting and fishing with you... I know I didn't like it when I was younger, but now I know what's important and I think it would be fun..." No you don't. Why are you giving up? You did nothing wrong. Your father has been a horrible person. What he did to you was inexcusable. What he did to the bird was inexcusable. He's the one who should be apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.

Where do fathers like this come from? There are hundreds of millions of them in this world. What are their stories? Who destroyed them? Not too many people are born evil.

It seems that nearly everyone I know are better than their parents. It's odd. How bad humans generally seem to be at being mothers and fathers. How bad humans seem to be at loving. I guess the best thing you can do is grow up to be better than the people who created you.

This book is beautiful as Jesus

and it may be able to make me famous

Oh Lord.

Come on

Hit me harder!

I'm so glad I don't live in a microwave.

Though tomorrow - don't look that good

I ordered new lungs, and they gave me a nonfunctional heart. Don't feel bad for me, you already have enough sorrow in yours.

Sometimes it feels like everyone I know is insane. I realize that I'm surrounded by people that every weird teenager in a small town would love to be surrounded by. I should be grateful. I should be a grapefruit.

On the subway today I looked at my hands and thought that they are ugly hands, they are fucked-up hands, but they are my hands. This story will end in pride.

I'm still trying to figure out this love thing. How it will work out for me. I have no idea, but I'll make it work.

I've been doing my best to be a good person, a nice person, a reliable person in a chaotic situation. But it doesn't seem to be working, as people usually end up hating me. I'm thinking that maybe I should try to be bad for some time. At least then I could stop asking "Why?" I'll try to be bad for some time.

I could write a book about a hacker who's got the power to destroy anybody in the world, but who can only destroy themselves.

People who say that it was Jennifer Lawrence's fault that her private pictures were leaked and spread all over the Internet are what's wrong with this world. "She should have been more careful, she got what she deserved!" means that you show a psychopathic lack of mercy and humanity. You're basically saying that if a person is human and makes a mistake, they deserve to be destroyed. That's not how it goes, you fucking jerks. I wish people like this simply went away. They don't have a heart, and they have a very miserable excuse for a brain.

See, I failed at that bad boy thing already

Of course you must do your best to be good.

Ethics. It's as simple as that.

Young zombie

If you know what you are talking about, you can say it in a way that a child would understand. Not too many people are doing that.

I have to stop saying that I'm ugly. I'm like those people who are not fat but keep saying "Oh my God I'm so fat" just so that somebody would tell them "You are not fat."

Looking at your world, and thinking that it'll never be mine.

Loneliness and unhappiness are the same thing. And yes, it's actually me saying this.

I think I need my own Johnny Marr. I'd like to see how that works. If two different geniuses can create amazing music together, why couldn't two different geniuses create amazing literature together?

I'm serious. Just show up at my door.

To live or not to live

Life is giving me more and more reasons to believe in ghosts. The boring fact is that there's always a scientific explanation. I wish there wasn't.

I've been feeling guilty over living like a crazy person. My mind thinks that I should be thinking, writing, turning the world into a better place. But that's not how it goes.

It's okay to be messed up for a while.

Actually, if you're chronically rational, painfully good at abstract thinking, the best thing you can do is live. Live, live, LIVE for some time. See what it's like to be a human being. Be stupid. Be an idiot. Make mistakes. Stumble. Vomit. See life in its beautifully horrible entirety.

Then you understand how the whole thing works.

Then you can write about it.

Oh Travis

This is fucked up:

Video for Panic! at the Disco's song Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off, directed by someone named Travis Kopach. Don't watch it, it's sad.

Once again a music video with people torturing fish because torturing fish is Artistic. I wonder how many animals had to suffer painful deaths because Travis wanted to seem deep and cool.

The 'Let Us Be Cruel to Fish in Music Videos' phenomenon has been going on for a long time now, and it's fucking disturbing. It's got something to do with MTV. I remember seeing this particular video ~8 years ago. Then I just blankly stared at it, not really seeing anything. People are blind, and then they stumble upon information, and then they see.

We have to find a way to educate people. And we will find it.

I don't want to live in a world like this. So I'll have to change it. I wish good people realized that they don't have to kill themselves; they can stay and change things.

By the way, fish are smarter than dogs.

My jokes are getting so bad that I want to jump into an open grave.

Positivity

Too many words. They don't help me at all.

Everybody has reasons to be unhappy. Some problems are bigger than others, but everybody thinks that their problems are big enough. But self-pity doesn't help. Anger doesn't help. Let sorrow catch you, because it's been trying to catch you all this time and when you keep running, you only hurt yourself more. Sorrow has things to say. Let it do what it's here for.

I'm tired of people who think that you can just fix everything by being "positive". I fucking hate that word. The reason that you Positivity Vessels and Gurus are capable of staying positive through all this shit is that you have genes that give you an exceptional psychological ability to feel happiness. You got lucky with your brain. For the rest of us, shit is shit and there's not much that we can do about it.

I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.

.....

Here are some song titles for my nonexistent album:

1. The Equator
2. Grower

I'll keep coming up with these

They could have given us a life

but they gave an adventure.

Just ask and we'll see what comes out of my mouth.

The past week was

but now I'm okay. Well, I'm never okay. But this horrible story has beauty and we are the winners at the end of it.

Poor twisted child, so ugly, so ugly; the poor twisted child, oh hug me, oh hug me

This bitterness is killing me. It is. You don't know how it feels to hurt like this. You don't. I would kill myself if I didn't have so many important things to do. Stuff like writing books and taking out the garbage.

I want somebody, anybody to love me. But it's not happening. Also, nowadays I only discuss embarrassing things. I mean truly embarrassing things. I have this project. I hope that this is okay with you.

Have sex with me. You won't find it satisfying, and you will feel sorry for me and for yourself, but you should give it a try.

"The part of the brain that interprets sexual arousal is the same area that interprets other arousal stimuli such as fear, and anger. This is actually where the theory of make-up sex comes from, the idea that the brain accidentally misinterprets one type of arousal, such as anger, for sexual arousal. So while the person is really upset, they feel aroused because the brain interpreted the arousal as sexual." 

That explains something. Jesus, I'm so fucking horny angry. I completely understand how Pekka-Eric Auvinen felt when he decided to go and kill people. I don't understand why he did what he did, but I do understand how he felt when he decided to do it. There's a big difference. Bad things happen to good people. Personally, I find it even more unbearable that GOOD THINGS HAPPEN TO BAD PEOPLE.

Seriously, there is nothing wrong with me. I'm a healthy, able person. But unfortunately I'm quite ugly. Am I ugly? So they say. With their eyes. This is a fact. But I could also lack arms and legs and a head and the whole lower body.

I've been very insecure lately.

I've become pretty good at jamesdeanism. But nobody gives a fuck, because people know too little about James Dean to get the joke. Fuck you. You should feel ashamed of yourselves. Fuck you for everything.

I have this project that I'll do my best to be fucking horrible for a few days. Hopefully it'll help, babe. It's much more fun than sadness.

Fame will be my revenge. I am a genius, and this is another embarrassing fact. It's all I have, it's always been this way, and it's a rather huge thing, but it isn't making me happy. Genius will never make you happy, but it can give others the illusion that you're capable of finding exceptional happiness, and that's what I want. I want others to think that I found something better. I want them to feel horrible. Right now I really don't care what you're going to think about this. One day the essence of my art will be total honesty. I will spend the coming years searching for the courage to become the person that I am. I've already begun.

All this will kill me. But everybody dies. You will die too, and that makes me so happy. I have no idea who I'm talking to.

Bitch, you'd be fucked up too.

Fuck you. I like Cat Power. They say she's insane, I hope that it's true. You should watch this. Fuck you for everything. You are a horrible person for reading this and you should go to Hell and stay there for 10 minutes.



I'm going through some old pictures, and turns out I'd left pictures of the actual Mozzy-Moz in my camera:

By the way. What is it really about; really changing the world, as an artist or scientist or anything? It is about disagreeing with your friends. Anyway, I also found a picture of me:

Did you really think that is me? Of course it's not me. Are you blind? It's clearly someone completely else. I have no idea who that is. Stop thinking that it's me, stupid.

Next, something troubling. This is a picture of me from a million years ago:

It's been many years and I am actually a child in that photo. Or an almost-child. A very fabulous child, I know. But anyway, now I am an "adult". What's tragic is that I still look exactly like that. (Well, maybe not exactly.) However, it should be noted that one of my dreams is to one day be a professional boxer whose most interesting trait is a sad, worried face that never goes away.

Life will take so much bravery

You must let it sink in

Husky

You're not mine

You will always be yours.

And so will I. Yours. Always.

I'm moonlighting as a nonsensical poet nowadays.

I just realized that someone I know is a lot like Harry Houdini. Odd.

A word to remember: lopsided

I don't actually have anything to say right now! I could be quiet for some time.

:) says it all.

Seahorses

Being a good writer means that you can write about Absolutely Nothing and make that seem beautiful and meaningful. It is sort of disgusting.

Just like there's a lot of people who say they're fat when they really aren't, there's a lot of people who say they're awkward when they really aren't. I'm always awkward, and this is a fact. Except when I'm drunk; then I'm just mindless and horrible.

Whenever people treat me like shit, I have real trouble bringing it up. It's too painful. Like I was the one who did the wrong thing. "I'm so sorry that you treated me like shit. Please forgive me." "I gave so much and you gave me nothing. You must be exhausted." In reality, this stuff should be very simple. A basic part of healthy human relationships. There's nothing dangerous about it. Jesus, help me. I must and will become stronger than this. Yeah, I keep talking to Jesus.

Be loyal. You don't always have to be honest or nice. Be loyal. Be loyal to your friends. And when you realize that you were wrong all along, be loyal to the truth.

Ouch

Harry

You meet a nice person and you're ready to forgive the whole world.

Ps. I'm a really good writer. I'm so happy. Jesus.

I think my heart just exploded 10 seconds ago

So stupid.

Life is so beautiful!

A message to every single human being on this Earth

I spent some time alone in a bar in Kajaani. "Your jacket is too big," said a man, angrily. "Yes," I said. "Your jacket is too big." "Yes?" "It looks stupid!" "Yes." "You really don't understand, do you?" "No." "Get out!"

I have no idea why it matters that my jacket is too big.
I have no idea why it matters that I look stupid.
I have no idea why anything like that should matter. Most things don't matter at all. Then there are a few things that matter, and they matter a lot.

Shame is an illusion.

If I die now, play this repeatedly at my funeral:

I'm not a happy person, not yet, but if I hadn't seen that stupid video when I was 13, I would be dead.

My thumb keeps bleeding. It's my own fault.

Kom igen Lena

When everyone else has gone, I'm the one beside you.

I know that I know nothing.

I don't know what this poetry is. I should stop.

I'm not even sad today!

I've got too much to lose now.

It's so easy to laugh, it's so easy to hate

I used to have this very clear vision of what people are like and what I am like. Then I met people and realized that I know nothing. Nothing. I would like to be a good person and be good to others. But it seems that I'm not good at that. In theory, I am good. In practice, I'm not. Everybody's hurt by things I have said and done. I don't understand. Turns out I am an obnoxious asshole. I'm not trying to be that way, I'm trying to be better things. I won't give up until I've found the way to be good to others. I still think love has something to do with this.

On the other hand, it's not healthy to live your life trying to please everybody. It is impossible. Be yourself. Maybe it's not enough, but in the long run, it is the only thing you can do.

I cycled by the children's hospital. That used to be one of my favourite places in the world when I was a child. I was a wild child and always breaking my bones. I loved the smell of the hospital, I loved getting out of school and then waiting for hours in the long corridors of the hospital and then eating icecream. When I was a child, I couldn't see death the way I do now.

I keep having very depressing dreams about people I know.

I think this must be depression. Welcome back.

On the other hand... I have these waves of warm hope.

And what is unhappiness? It is when you compare yourself to others. When the thing that matters is not what you have, but what you don't have.

And hope? It is air filling your lungs.

I would like to be temporarily locked up in a little room with nothing in it, being unable to do anything but lie on the floor and wait for somebody else to let me out.

I'm starting to understand happiness. Not well, yet. But there's this thought taking form in my head.

You have to choose happiness to eventually find it. You have to welcome it. There are fears telling you that happiness is bad, but you have to let it come in.

You cannot change shit. But you can change the way you look at shit. You don't have to take it seriously. You can laugh.

That's what happens when you jump

I find it very difficult to say anything honest and true when I'm not drunk.

Writing is easier.

I want to be your friend, but I'm not good at that. I'm not good at that.

Should I give up?

I'm always sad and I'm always nervous, and it is physically impossible for me to be good to the people around me. My heart's beating so fast that I can't hear what you say. I'm exhausted and have been for a long time. I don't want to die. I just want to be nonexistent for a while.

Always, always, always ready to lose everything. I have to learn to trust.

I can continue swimming in sadness and self-pity. Or I can stop taking it all so seriously and live.

Live. Not sure if I can do that, but I can definitely give it a try. In any case, I embrace the very odd in you, the ancient, the embarrassing, the dirty, the divine, the human, the unexpected.

There'll come a time when I'll be much stronger than this. Don't give up on me and don't let me down. This is what happens when you jump.

About one hour, and then I've been married to Morrissey for 4 years.

What the hell am I doing

I'm so full of shit sometimes

I'm taking my jokes too far sometimes

Jesus...

forgive me.

A broken neck

I hadn't ridden my bike in 14 and a half months. But today I did it again. Actually, it's my mother's old bike. It has flowers painted on it. I don't care. I love it. I rode it on the dark streets, singing Girls Just Want to Have Fun, and that's the happiest I've been in a very long while. I sang some Elvis too, of course. I'm going to stop walking and replace that with cycling.

I noticed that I'm faster and stronger than 14 months ago. It was all so easy. Lord knows why. Is beer a steroid? A bus drove by that said 'karaoke bus' and I thought that that's something that I'm going to get on sooner or later. Mark my words.

Would you like to know how I'm going to die? Of course you do. I'm going to die riding a bike. There's something fucked up about the way I do it. It's dangerous and awful, and wonderfully intoxicating. One of these days I'm going to think "That guy's gotta stop... He'll see me" and 3 seconds later I'll be dead. A broken neck. Multiple fractures. Massive internal injuries. Tragic. I'm going to try to get everything important done before this happens! 

I had genius when I was 16. Now there's a new genius forming in my head, and one of these is going to kill me if the bike doesn't.

The Sundays have disgusting songs that seem to exist solely for the purpose of showing off Harriet Wheeler's adorable voice. One of the worst (the best) examples of this is this:

I can understand if someone finds that annoying. Personally, I find it adorable, of course. Some annoying things are very adorable. Puppies are very annoying, if you think about it. Jesus, I love puppies. So much. One of these days I'm going to be famous and Harriet Wheeler is going to find all this stuff I've written about her voice and she's going to sue me and take all my money. That would be so adorable. Why exactly would she sue me? Is she nuts? I think she's going to write me a letter:

Dear "Olli Brander",

Please leave me alone.

Best wishes,

Harriet Wheeler.

I found the perfect boyfriend for the girl I love. Now I'm going to bring them together. That's a happy ending for everybody.

If by any chance you, the person reading this, happen to be a girl looking for a physically unappealing boy who hates nearly all normal things, doesn't tell you anything but expects you to tell him everything, is horny but too neurotic to have sex, and turns everything into a problem, please do let me know.

Being famous in Finland is like being popular in school. It's an illusion. Step out of the building, and nobody knows who you are. Of course, all fame is an illusion if you realize the size of the Universe.

THE ART OF DELETING!

This is a whole new book.

It's like I just got good again.

"I just got good."
- Bobby F.

Elvis has left the building

Everything Elvis-related makes me laugh. I think it must be wrong. Like he was a joke person.

Sounds like a conspiracy theory

my friend.

English is hard

Today Daphne and Niles finally found each other. I had to keep watching Frasier for something like 9 months to see this happen. I kept waiting and waiting. Now my heart is full.

If I should ever fall in love with you, consider yourself unlucky. Because when I fall in love with people, I start to see them as More Than Human, and that's a very difficult position to be in. You can only fail, and here I am, staring at you from the corner of the room and anxiously waiting for you to fail.

This song has been in my life for nearly 7 years:



It's making more and more sense now. I found Josiah Leming when he was on American Idol. He was 18, I was 13 and he caught my attention by crying all the time. It was interesting. It was obvious that he was severely unstable and lost. I googled his name and found videos of him singing songs he'd written. After 2 seconds it was clear that his talent was not normal. He was a genius. It's strange that he still hasn't become a star. Will he ever become a star? I don't know. There's something about his personality that probably makes things difficult. It's very easy to hate or at least get very annoyed by him when you see him giving an interview or just talking to the camera. He seems unbearably fake, like he's trying to be somebody else. Maybe that's something that he needs to do in order to survive. I don't know. Maybe I am the same way.

I'm slightly disturbed by the existence of another person named Olli Brander. I could have Satanic nightmares about this.

Four (4) months ago I knew none of the people in my life. Nobody. You see, Harry, sometimes things just happen. (I have no idea how this happened.) This summer was incredibly painful and difficult. Like I've been saying, I've realized that I suck in ways that I never even knew a person could suck. But I have to experience this. All of it.

There's something strange about me. Or I don't know if it's strange; maybe everybody's the same way but they just don't talk about it. The strange thing is that I always, always carry this very heavy feeling of shame with me. It's like a hand on my throat. I feel shame for everything I am, everything I do and everything I say. I don't know why, but it's been like this since I was 12. The things that I'm most proud of are also the things that I'm most ashamed of. I feel shame for the best things about me.

I have no idea where this comes from. But it sure as hell doesn't stop me from being who I am, doing what I do, and saying what has to be said. One of these days I'll write a very good book about this. The best characters I've ever come up with are all people haunted by shame.

On the subject of shame: It's a shame most people know so little about James Dean nowadays. I wish there were more people getting my Joke. Anyway, this is one of the things that I'm constantly ashamed of. Why do people like James Dean mean something to me? It feels idiotic. Anyway, I'm starting to think that James Dean and I should meet. I used to somehow dislike him as a person, but now that I've realized that I suck in all the ways that he sucked (except that I don't have a thing for bullfighting), I do think that we should meet and spend some time together. Naturally, I will need a good shovel to do this, as he is dead and has been for 59 years.

For the record, I don't care about the rock'n'roll yeehaa vroom vroom image of James Dean. I care about the real stuff.

Sometimes I'm mad at my mother's side of the family for being such dwarfs and making me such a semi-dwarf. Sometimes I'm mad at my father's side of the family for having such horrible skin and giving me such horrible skin. But I'm not sure if I'd want it to be any other way. People who've been given good cards can never be truly strong.

No, I can't stop this

I know that I'm arrogant and uninterested. Those things mean that I'm scared. People have no idea how scared I am. Which means that people have no idea how brave I am.

There are millions and millions of good-looking young people in the world. We don't need any more of those. It's boring. I can be something else. I can be something better.

Man. I'll have to rewrite a lot. Kill people and replace them. Turn one person into the person she is, and get rid of the things that she isn't. Okay. Okay? Okay.

A joke and then I'll leave:

My head explodes. I think these people would get along well. Because nice people usually get along with other nice people. I know that, even though I am not very nice.

If you have time in your feet, please listen to these 48 hours and tell me how it makes you feel. I must know.

I feel like a genius now.

Now this is taking too much time

Gotta write a book. See ya.

There are birds outside my window. They're looking in.

Repeatedly clicking on 'random article' on Wikipedia feels like taking a nightly ride in an unknown city.

Enrique Iglesias - I'm tired of being sorry

I spent 220 euros in one night. What the fuck. This is insane. I should stop being insane.

The people around me are giving me a life, and all I can give them is shit and pain and beer sometimes. I guess it's because I feel like they're too good for me. I feel like they should realize this and go away. I'm sure that this constant complaining makes me even more charming. It's amazing how patient people are with me. Thanks.

It seems that everything that happened (or didn't happen) to me when I was 13-19 has left me 50% autistic. But this is curable.

Lately it seems like I've thrown away about 40 IQ points. It's a temporary thing that makes my life a little bit easier. One of these days I'll start talking about things that matter again, but not quite yet. I need this.

I was wandering around alone with nothing to do, so I randomly went and saw The Fault in Our Stars. The auditorium was filled with people crying the whole time. I just smiled the whole time. For several reasons, this movie filled me with peaceful happiness. I love to see young people die. The sentence that came before this one is a joke. No it's not. We all love to see young people die. (One strange thing: nobody ate animals in this movie. They did throw eggs, but the movie didn't show anyone eating animals. Fact: usually the meat industry pays Hollywood money so that they show all the favourite characters eating meat on screen. This was an American movie where nobody ate animals. What is this?)

Maybe I should and maybe I shouldn't read the book by John Green the movie's based on. It's about kids that want to live but must die. My book is about kids that want to die but get another chance to live. I know what I have to do.

I can say that I'm not a selfish person. I'm actually not selfish at all. Well, maybe to a certain extent; everybody is. But at the very moment so many huge things are happening in my life that I am hideously self-centered. I will stop talking about myself all the time when I move on.

Sometimes I hate myself, a lot. Everybody expects different things from me, and that's one of the main reasons why I hate myself. You're tearing me apart, and so on. I simply can't be all the things you want me to be. Sometimes, I can't be any of the things you want me to be. I'm going to do what I have to do. Stop expecting anything else.

I know it's annoying, and messy, and often unbearable. But that's how it's always going to be with me, and you either deal or leave.

I will be murdered

It's like my brains and hands are burning to write this book, I've felt this way the whole day, and the whole yesterday, but I JUST CAN'T DO IT, I can't do ANYTHING, I can't write a SINGLE WORD, there's too much that I need to change, and I know exactly what I have to do, but I just CAN'T do it for fuck's sake, it's too huge

The whole James Dean part, it already goes a lot deeper than most of the other dead idiots but I could do a lot better, come on, it's James Dean, I have what it takes to write very good stuff about James Dean. I know what it should be about. Why on Earth does James Dean mean something to me? Where did it come from? Why doesn't it go away? Am I a 'James Dean fan'? It makes no sense! Fuck you!

Life is about mysteries like this. Why things matter to you, why people matter to you, and why they don't when they don't

And I know that I have to kill someone, and that's fucking awful, killing someone

Maybe I should write it in English, lol

Fuck you, fuck everything, I'm so excited about this and I just fucking fuck you

Try your best

I have this feeling that I don't deserve the people around me. I don't deserve people. Because I'm not good.

This will pass. Something will pass.

The worst thing about the drunken me is that he lies. On the sidewalk and about everything.

............

I have no idea what is happening in Israel. Well, I do know what is happening in Israel: suddenly regular people are finding out how the animal industries function, and instead of giving excuses, they're deciding to start boycotting what's happening. It's not like everyone is doing this, but it's a change that's happened in Israel a lot faster and a lot more radically than anywhere else.

A few days ago this activist woman, a mother of three, won Big Brother Israel. Initially, she was meant to be an oddity on the show who wouldn't last long, and the Big Brother team did their best to provoke and annoy her, but she turned out to be this Martin Luther King like character that changed the hearts of people inside the house and outside the house. One person, ONE PERSON, changed the way an entire nation sees animals, possibly forever. Like, what the fuck. It's too beautiful to be true.

These things simply don't happen. Except that they do. They actually happen, and I can't believe it.

What I don't know is why. Why Israel? I haven't exactly considered Israel to be some sort of moral frontrunner of the world. But in this case, that's what they are. Maybe there's goodness in all of us. In many ways, humans are shit, but in the end, humans are good.

The end of this is something extraordinary. 2:08:

It's 2014 and

Israel is going vegan.

This is fucking crazy.

There's goodness in us.

I wonder how many people have committed suicide not because they're miserable but to see what happens

H

e

Life feels exciting and good, and that feels fucking surreal.

I have a right to feel this way. I have a right to feel happy sometimes.

I am everybody's fucked-up little brother.

It's difficult to just decide to stop loving somebody. Well, deciding is very easy. Doing it is another thing.

I saw two people having sex in a park today. (Welcome to Finland.) I stopped and stared at them to figure out whether it was a rape. I don't know what I would have done if it had been a rape, but you must do something. I wonder if sex feels as stupid and ugly as it looks.

People are so good and beautiful sometimes

that I could cry.

I am happy. It's 5:10 AM and I am happy.

You MUST watch this

Age scares me

I had no idea I was strong.

I can write this.

This very thing was the hottest thing I knew when I was 14.



Yes, it was. I was that kind of a 14-year-old. Now I have to go to bed.

It's interesting how I keep telling other people how their weaknesses and oddities are the things that make them fascinating, and at the same time I can't tolerate my weaknesses and oddities at all. I just hate them, I want them to go away, and that's it.

But that's an essential part of the magic. If you don't feel haunted and tormented by you weaknesses and oddities, they are not really weaknesses and oddities, they are nothing. You're weak and you're odd, and you hate it, and that is the very thing that makes you humanly interesting.

People who actually see other people's weaknesses and oddities as minuses are uninteresting people. And I have no desire to be around uninteresting people.

...

I have a very annoying face. I can't help it. I'm not sorry, being sorry would be weird.

...

Life is beautiful in an excruciatingly painful kind of way. This may end badly, but why should I worry about the end when I'm just beginning.

Lolli is dead

Laura Marling is too good to exist. And she exists!

It seems that

Life is when you find things that you don't like and things that you like, people that you don't like and people that you like, and some of it stays and some of it goes away

They all go away

And here we are.

Hehe

I am a poor freezingly cold soul
So far from where I intended to go
Scavenging through life's very constant lows
So far from where I'm determined to go

Wish I knew the way to reach the one I love
There is no way
Wish I had the charm to attract the one I love
But you see, I've got no charm

Tonight I've consumed much more than I can hold
Oh, this is very clear to you
And you can tell I have never really loved
You can tell, by the way, I sleep all day

And all of my life no one gave me anything
No one has ever given me anything
My love is as sharp as a needle in your eye
You must be such a fool to pass me by

My angst is partially a joke. Just like Morrissey. I don't care if nobody finds it funny.

I didn't really expect to find anything like any of this, and here it is.

I have a loneliness that I will try to get rid of. But it's not easy.

And no, you don't know how it feels.

I just want to see all of you happy.

What I've been doing

Oh God how I wish someone loved me. No I don't. It would be confusing. Oh yes I do.

More commentary on random things

I've realized that the most noble ability you can have is the ability to disagree. It's a good thing to realize when you're 19.

Suddenly I felt happy for the happiness of a person I hate. And I'm not even sure if I'm happy myself. Maybe I will be a good person someday.

The thing that makes Conchita Wurst cool is that you expect to see a joke. The name and the whole thing ('a woman with a beard') makes you expect to see a humorous drag queen show, but then you see her and you realize that she's completely serious. There's something Martin Luther King like about her. It's great.

Anyway. Bus Stop (1956) is probably the most horrible movie I've ever seen. It's absolutely horrible. Everything about it is wrong. It's not only bad, it's sickening. If Satan himself made a movie, this would be it. It makes The Room look good.

I must say that the character that Marilyn Monroe plays in these movies is just something idiotic and sad. She was an intelligent person. For some reason she had to act like this. The character she always plays clearly has serious neurological problems. I mean look at her.

Also.

I almost never watch TV series, but for some reason I started watching Klondike when they started airing it every Thursday. It was just a miniseries. And it was possibly the best thing I've ever seen. I almost couldn't breathe. It was nearly perfect. Every character, everything everybody said, everything that happened, PERFECT. Characters are the thing that make stories work, and all of these characters worked. I mean, I very rarely like stuff! I usually hate everything I see/read, so this means something!

It was a miniseries so I lost this new exciting piece of my existence much earlier that I was prepared to. Now it's gone, and it's very painful. More than anything else, I fell in love with a character named Belinda Mulrooney, who was based on a real person and played by this person. I was on a train when I read the 'personal life' part of the Wikipedia article, and I almost cried. ("Having grown up with animals she became vegetarian at the age of 13. In 2006 she became an ambassador for Australian animal rights group Voiceless, the animal protection institute and has since been an outspoken advocate for animal protection..." Well, you get it.)

Oh my god. (Do I have a god?) This has happened before. A Strong Yet Secretly Vulnerable 19th Century Woman is something that works for me. If strong yet secretly vulnerable 19th century women are reading this, please contact me. I want to sit down and talk.

Anyway. Anyway. The sad question is: who wrote this? Who wrote this series? Who's behind all the genius? I have no idea. Nobody has any idea. Nobody cares. I could google it, but the name(s) would mean nothing to me and I'd forget them in 5 minutes.

This was probably written by a bunch of people who'll never be known for what they did. Nobody cares. It's just sad. I'd rather become a vampire than let that happen. (Become a vampire?)

I want people to know that the words I write were written by me. They are mine, and I'm writing them to you.

I hadn't known that Robin Williams meant something to me, but when I heard that he had killed himself, I almost passed out.

The adventures of Lolli Brander go on. They won't go on forever.

I'm peacefully melancholy like people are before suicide, and I'm not going to commit suicide.

Hurricane Gilbert

I spent a week being an idiotic hurricane that was trying to destroy me and everybody around me. Luckily these people around me are good, and they stopped me from destroying anyone or anything.

I've never been crazy like that. This was my first time, and it was valuable, because I learned a lot from it. The reasons for my Insanity are complicated, but the main reason is that I'm not alone anymore.

I've always understood why Justin Bieber went nuts. He's the most famous person on the planet. Of course he's miserable.

The Internet is huge, and I have a small corner of it and this is it.

Fuck you

I've realized that I hate Frasier's dad. He's the character I hate the most. The thing that makes him so unbearable is that it's obvious that he's supposed to be A Really Sympathetic Guy That Everybody Likes And Can Relate To. Which makes me not like him, because really, he's just as annoying and overacting as the rest of the gang.

Wherever I go, I end up discussing Frasier. Good. I'm not sure if I'd even want to discuss things that matter.

Unfortunately I don't feel like making sense now

I've been making sense for such a long time. I want to try making other things for a while.

What on Earth do you think you're doing?

Shut up now. Stop. Shut up. Now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wow. So many exclamation marks.

Being in love is a surprisingly huge feeling.

The nicest bad boy who ever lived

It's funny how ridiculously smug and conceited I was for such a long time, always talking about how "good" I was. And now all I want to tell everybody is how deeply I suck. (Sucking is no problem for me. Face it, admit it, do something about the things that hurt others and learn to love the things that you can't get rid of.)

Eddie

I'm almost certain that Frasier Crane is Satan. I can see that when he laughs.

I don't really know why I keep watching this show almost daily. But do people ever understand why they're so attracted to Satan?

Remember that you live in 1914

Maybe there are people who are capable of living and sleeping. I'm not one of them.

I meet people and things happen all the time. I fall in love and people fall in love. I simply can't sleep. I can't even sit down and breathe. I have to walk in circles. I have no idea what's going on.

I had a dream where I was spending time in an old house. The person I was with said that being gay is unnatural, and I just calmly stormed out. I keep having dreams about people saying silly things, and me storming out. What? Where is this coming from?

If there's one thing that I really, really, really hate in the world, it's small fish tanks. I want to see the day when those go away and stop existing. How can some people be so incredibly stupid?

But I must focus on living right now. It's necessary. I must. This is a strange dream that might end tomorrow. It's okay. If this lasts, okay. If it doesn't, okay. I just have to experience this. As a person and as a writer, I have to experience this.

There's something demonic about me right now. But I'm not losing myself. Seriously, I have the right to do things. I have the right to focus on life. I have the right not to be sad all the time. I have the right not to think about the existence of inhumane fish tanks all the time.

Bear with me. I'm not an asshole.

I do love bears.

Easy to Get

I have this horrible feeling that my life as Olli Brander and my life as Olli can never happen simultaneously. That the other one is eating the other one, inevitably, forever until only one lives. And my role is to choose.

I don't know. Sleep now. You're driving everybody insane. Especially yourself. Who am I talking to? Myself? Okay. Just proves my point.

This is incredible.

Hey, you should just walk away now.

I was happy once, and it was very painful

Gotta write everything down.

My head is full of floating stupidity.

Suddenly all these people in my life, and I feel severely lost. The past 3 days are just a weird series of static images of really strange things happening. Existential crisis is my reaction to everything.

I don't sleep. My parents don't want me here anymore. It's fair. They've been excellent, intelligent, loving parents. If they want me to go, I will go. I need to find a place where I can spend days sleeping and nights writing.

I googled 'my reaction to everything' and found this:

I have no idea who that is, but I can feel it too.

So anyway

“One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life.” ― John Green

Good one, Johnny boy. I've noticed that this is what happens to most people. Most people around me and most people everywhere. But it will never happen to me.

Whatever

 

My sister is one of the funniest people I know. Possibly the funniest.

Also, the younger Morrissey and the older Morrissey can't be the same person. The voices and the faces are too different. The whole presence. Back when we didn't have photographs and video cameras, we didn't have to deal with the simultaneous existence of the same person at 25 and 55.

You needed someone on your side.

So here I am.

Simply take my hand.

There is a truth and it's on our side.

I nearly always destroy everything by forgetting to be a gentleman. It's such an easy thing to forget, especially on the Internet, especially when you're constantly surrounded by genuinely stupid people. It's so easy to think, why bother, these humans can't even read and comprehend the sentences that I write, I could just as well be an asshole. But that's not how you educate anyone about anything. That's not the person I want to be. Only lately I've realized how important it is to be a gentleman, as weird and old-fashioned as this sounds, even in the most absurd of situations.

By the way: you are somebody's grandparent.

"So. I'll go away. I'll really go away. If I come up with something oh-so-funny that I would like to say on this blog, I won't. Instead, I'll scream into my pillow and move on. I'll come back when I have an amazing manuscript in my hands." Right. Well, I've been writing my book for real, for real(!), so maybe this is nearly okay.

Loyal but so so unreliable

Oh... crap.

What is happening to me? Whatever it is, it is extremely strong and I never want it to go away.

Taking no prisoners. Hell yeah Jimmy Dean.

Wow... wow.

Rome

I just realized that I have to talk a lot less.

I have to do more.

I have this bad habit of blustering about my books instead of actually writing them. After this post, I'll remain silent and write the book. I promise. Goodbye, too many words.

When I use Microsoft Word, the temptations of the Internet tend to become too strong. So I've decided to write the rest of the book with an old typewriter. No more Internet. Writing with the ancient typewriter is physical work. I actually really like it.

So. I'll go away. I'll really go away. If I come up with something oh-so-funny that I would like to say on this blog, I won't. Instead, I'll scream into my pillow and move on. I'll come back when I have an amazing manuscript in my hands.

Today I was waiting for a bus and feeling sad for many things, like Jasper Pääkkönen saying that fish are 'Finland's gold' (no they aren't; fish are fish and they aren't yours) (if somebody's Finland's gold, it's me, rock'n'roll), and running into a person I used to know in secondary school and realizing that here I am, still, stuck, but then I listened to this and the world brightened up:

You have to listen to it. You must. You will learn to love it.

That's the kind of feeling that's kept me alive for several years now. Proud losers knowing that they're better than the rest of them. Defiantly holding on to the idea that some day we'll win.

I spent a week in Rome with my mother and sister. I don't know what exactly we were doing there, but the Romans* served me beer in every restaurant and nobody wanted to see my ID. Apparently in Italy, I don't look like I'm 15. Also, it's entertaining to look down from a tourist bus and stare at people's crotches. Very mildly entertaining, but entertaining.

* A Roman.

Curiously, I find myself getting angry at every place I visit. There's something especially intimidating about big cities filled with people. It's like my ego crashes with Rome, and I must win. There might be something wrong with me. (Only slightly, so don't recoil.)

The first time I visited Rome was 5 years ago. 5 years ago I was a very intense antitheist. I remember walking by nuns and very quietly whispering "Fuck you." This time I felt like nuns were the only people I could understand. They're rebelling against the modern world. That's what I'd like to do too. 

It's too late to try and stay anonymous. I've already ruined the whole thing. I'll be semi-anonymous from now on. We'll see how this works out.

Unfortunately I'm one of those naturally annoying people. Some people are given the innate gift of infuriatingness. And sometimes I wonder if my levels of horniness are even normal anymore. They probably are, which could be seen as alarming. What a hysterical species, makes me throw up.

My mother got hit by a car. It was night and raining, and a gentleman driving a car simply didn't see us. The moment when I realized what had happened was one of the most horrible moments in my life. I remember shouting "Call 911!" (what?), but 5 seconds later I knew that my mother would be completely okay and then I just completely calmed down. Maybe I can handle situations like this one.

Doing my best, anyway. In the end, spending some night hours in a surreal Italian hospital was a useful experience.

Today I was told that my half brother, who hates my family and whom I haven't seen for about 13 years, wants to meet me. Apparently just me and nobody else.

My life is mostly about trying to handle my brain and live with it, and secondly about trying to find out what to do with it. I don't know why intelligence was given to me and not to other people. (Given to me? Was my nervous system something that was just floating in emptiness and waiting to be given to somebody?)

I often wish that every single person on this planet was as intelligent as me. Then I wouldn't have to do the thinking on behalf of the other person too when I debate things with them.

A few days before my mother got hit by a Roman car I met someone. I met a real person and I talked to them and they took me to an abandoned match factory. Later, sitting on a nightbus home, I listened to Morrissey's voice sing in my earphones: I've seen this happen in other people's lives... and now, it's happening in mine.

Like I'd been waiting for those words to finally mean something to me.

(Btw, I've been reading Morrissey's Autobiography. Finally. I have many things to say but they are too complex to be said.)

It's obvious that Morrissey is relatively insane. That's wonderful. I'd love to try that. I wonder if it increases or decreases his potential for happiness. Some day we'll sit down for a cup of tea and discuss this.

Simply talking to another person may not be a big deal for most people, but I haven't really done it for 6 (or 7) years, so to me it feels like a new form of existence. And I know that I need it. I've always known that I need it. I need a new form of existence.

I guess I'll step out of this cave after all, sooner or later, probably very soon. Maybe I already did?

6 years of loneliness. I truly am Sauli Niinistö. Except that I guess it was 5 years for him. I like him, for some reason he seems like a decent human being.

Walking in Rome, or walking anywhere where there's other people, is always weirdly exciting. All those thousands and thousands of people become a boring hum, a huge ghost whose particles all want the same things. They want to live and die, and then they simply disappear. And that's all.

I don't want to be a part of it. There are people who are happy spending their lives focusing on small things, and then there are people who want to truly ride the waves of history. I'm one of the people who ride waves.

These are starting to get really artistic.

So many people are so very boring. I can't stand boredom. I just can't, it makes me puke, and I'm being literal here. So whenever I come across another intense creep, it's enormously thrilling.

There's this person in Helsinki who sometimes rides the same bus with me in the nighttime. He looks like a lonely Italian gentleman, and he seems to always carry an umbrella, and I don't know, there's something about him. He always looks like he's quietly laughing at his own thoughts. He has... presence, like he's there, just like me, unlike everybody else (who simply stare at their cellphones). One of these days I'm going to go to him and say, "I'm 100% sure that you live alone, and just for the lulz, would you like to become my lover? I'm over 18."

Jokes (?) aside; I really don't know why I want fame, and I don't know why other people don't, but it seems to be a rather easy thing to get in this arena. It seems like it's sitting there waiting for somebody to take it, and all I have to do is walk on stage. Because there's zero competition.

A poor man sold us flowers.

Am I right? I want to be wrong. (I always want to be wrong.)

But really, is there anyone else doing anything like what I'm doing? I'd love to see another furious young writer who wants to write big stories about fascinating souls and start a few revolutions in the process; another young writer who's going to devote everything to this thing. Who could say no to that? (If you could, it's ok. You don't need to raise your hand.)

If I succeed, I'll be the first writer in forever to be an actual pop star.

I wonder what's wrong with young writers and writers in general. Very few have talent and very few have a plan, and those who have a plan never have talent and those who have talent never have a plan. Old writers are gray and boring, and then the young writers are trying to be like the old writers just because they think that's the proper way to be. Ugh, so very boring.

I don't understand people with no ambition. It's not like I hate or despise them. I just can't imagine what existence must be like for them. If there's no scary bright light shining at the end of the tunnel, can life be anything else but boring?

Maybe it's simply about wanting attention. Maybe I want attention simply because I haven't experienced it for many many years. I was a pretty famous troublemaker when I was a child, and then suddenly I turned 13 and completely lost my ability to communicate and nobody ever looked at me anymore. Maybe this fucked me up, y'know. I need somebody to look at me. I need somebody to listen to me. I want to look interesting in a photograph. I want to have fun and be fun.

More than anything, I want to tell these stories and get as many people as possible to feel them as strongly as I do.

But it's not this simple. I wish it was this simple. I wish it was this simple, but it's not.

There's this another task that I have. Something much bigger than any of this. Something so much greater than me. And it makes things so much more difficult.

Okay, I've said all this for three thousand times before and now I'm going to do it again. And it's really tiring and depressing. I ABSOLUTELY HATE IMPORTANT THINGS. Saying these things so often makes me feel like I'm some sort of vampire literally vomiting blood on innocent people's faces, and I want to apologize, but somebody needs to repeat these things, somebody needs to. I just hate that it needs to be me. Why, Lord, oh why, why didn't you give me nice things to talk about?

There's a restaurant in Rome called 'Rewild' that serves seitan that is, well, identical to meat. I'm happy worshipping Satan seitan until in vitro becomes a thing. You do what you have to do, babe, but please, promise me that you'll join me once the revolution starts. 

Argh, here it comes, again:

In 2014, the overwhelming majority of violence and suffering caused by humans on this planet is still legally protected and culturally accepted. It shouldn't be. There's no reason why it should be. We've invented the concept of human rights, and it's a great start, but we've really only just started. I think I have some cool tools to help change the status quo, so I suppose it's my duty to use them and help humanity take the next step: the biggest one, the one that helps us understand why human rights matter in the first place. Essentially, human rights and animal rights matter for the same reason: if you hurt us, we suffer.

The most beautiful thing about Rome: historical ruins turned into a sanctuary for homeless cats. This cat had lost his eyes when he was very young. He lived happily like he'd never needed eyes in the first place. There was also an older cat who had lost his eyes at an old age. He was too horrified to move in the darkness.

But this task is not fun. (Sometimes it is.) It's not making me happy. (Sometimes it is.) I'm happy when I think about unimportant things, say unimportant things, write about things that don't really matter. The whole animal rights thing is like a wound in my side. It's mainly sadness. I don't know where it came from. Luckily it's a burning kind of sadness and gets me to act and think. (But would I be more useful in this battle if I let that wound heal? Possibly?)

So when I see an old man selling one-month-old puppies in the street in Rome – sadness. (I did my best to kindly explain to the man that the puppies were way too young to be taken from their mother. He didn't speak English, so I wrote him a note where I tried to say the same thing in Italian. It was all a bit desperate, of course, but, well, doing my best.)

And when I see drunken people fishing by the Tevere – sadness. (I guess the reason that I feel so strongly about fish rights is that most people currently don't. Somebody has to. Fish look like ugly prehistoric monsters. Cuteness isn't protecting them the way it protects other vertebrates. I always identify with the underdoggest of underdogs. Heaven knows why. I guess because somebody has to.)

Jesus. How easy life must be for people who can just accept everything.

It's like there's two separate sides of me. The first one just wants to write books and be loved by as many people as possible. This side HATES the other one: the other one wants to change the world. And I have to find a balance. I think I have the ability to turn this stuff into pretty fascinating literature, but first I have to calm down a bit, for fuck's sake.

Let's assume that animal rights become a big mainstream thing in the coming decades. Let's assume that I make it and play a role in this process. In this case I would probably be considered a 'hero' by future generations.

(By the way, I find it lovely that Luna Lovegood has taken up singing:)

And how would that hero thing work out? Come on, look at me. (Yes, I know that you can't actually look at me.) I'm not like the kind of people who lead revolutions. This could never be a Mandela kind of story. I can't do that. I'm too idiotic. Somebody else must come along and play that role.

The truth is that I'm just a weird-looking kid with a weird posture and a weird voice. I'm a stupid, horny, giggly, clumsy child. (A cute little bugger.) I don't know if I could ever be considered 'good-looking' in the known sense of the word. My only hope is to look interesting.

I don't know.

I think that people should stop taking their genders (and most things) seriously. Masculinity and femininity and all that. People should stop trying to be those things. It's impossible. Nobody's that way. You're doomed to fail. Just have fun with it and be yourself. Unless 'yourself' is utter garbage. Then be something else.

I'd rather be a drunkard than a regular person. How pretentious. I'm not sorry.

In any case, I need to toughen up a bit. Especially mentally, but also physically, those are often two sides of the same thing. I've already toughened quite a bit from what I was 1.25 years ago, but there's still work to be done. I have to stop taking everything so fucking personally. I have to stop taking anything so fucking personally. I have to stop being the kid who cares about the universe expanding.

Sometimes, when it comes to certain things in life, 'I don't give a fuck' is a perfectly healthy reaction.

Maybe I could look like a boxer*. I could. I want to toughen up. I'll start by taking up jogging. Don't worry, I'll probably give it up in a couple of weeks.

Whatever. The thing is that I'll be a superstar and the people I hate won't.

* A boxer.

Now, whoever you are, close your eyes for 10 seconds and think of the one you used to love madly, but don't anymore.

And now ask yourself: are you sure?

Anyways, love always,

Will Hunting.