Boys do not cry

I am Kaspar Hauser. This is my message in a bottle. I'm sending an SOS to the world. Some day someone will get the message. And then things will start happening.

I keep stretching my hand out toward the world. So far, the world's been ignoring me systematically, but that's okay, it's part of the game. You're already out there and you know what I mean. Giving up on me would be a lethal mistake. Babe.

Trust me. I'm as ambitious as Satan.

Do you feel it too?

What the hell is this? Why, why, why is this? Harriet Wheeler's is the kind of beauty that I tremble before. I don't know why. I can't locate it. Is it the voice?

Sometimes I've seen people refer to Harriet Wheeler as some kind of female Morrissey. No way. She lacks the essential hate and anger completely. That's beautiful but also somehow intimidating. After all, who knows, I know nothing about Harriet Wheeler, it's funny, maybe she took a job in a slaughterhouse after leaving the Sundays and one day she'll write a public announcement: "I would like to tell that crazy boy to stop liking me immediately"

Yeah. Sometimes I'm happy and the world is such a wonderful place. It happens quite regularly, actually. Slowly and unsteadily, I'm learning to ignore all the dark and idiotic stuff, and focus on the sun. The next step is to learn to let it blind me, every once in a while.

Whenever I see a pretty, unstable-looking girl, I think of Rebekka. Whenever I see a young man dressed in ugly childish clothes, I think of Oskar Blom. Whenever I see a tall businessman, I think of Jeremy Witt. (I don't know why, because Jeremy Witt is not really a tall businessman; anyway, seeing their face is always a disappointment; they always lack the essential intensely bored or boredly intense look)

On good days almost everybody seems like an adventure.

The other day I was sitting on a bus when some sort of teenage Lady Gaga, a child who looked like an alien, a middle-aged hardcore punk rocker and Benedict Cumberbatch* got on.

* By this I don't mean that B. Cumberbatch is constantly on my mind, nor am I trying to say that I know anything about the current BBC Sherlock phenomenon. Well, I do know something about the phenomenon, but I've seen half an episode of the actual series and it was a lot lamer than I expected (so I gave up and decided to judge the whole thing). I realize that every intelligent teenager should be all over this Sherlock thing.** I think I should give it another try, especially since the hobbit man playing Watson is some sort of almost-vegetarian. (This criteria doesn't have to be rational.)

I HAVEN'T BEEN TO BED WITH NOBODY

It seems that the heart of the phenomenon is the vaguely homosexual relationship of Holmes and Watson; I get it, but based on that one half of one episode, it's just not enough for me. It doesn't go deep enough. It's boring. If I'd written the series, the psychological level would be a lot more interesting, and in general, everything would just rock so hard.

** Why do even intelligent teenagers have to be clones of each other? I get it not, no. For example: tumblr seems to be the place where the Intellectual Youth come together, but when you look at them, they're all almost identical to each other. They share a collective tumblr personality. Seriously, there must be more to them. Why is everybody behaving and communicating and writing sentences just. like. everybody. else? Why do people have this instinctive tendency to turn into people around them?

Wow! Am I fucked up. I got no motorcycle I got no girl. (I hope you're dying) BECAUSE I AM.

I will shut up now. I've got a book to write.

Towards the light, man, slowly and unsteadily, towards the light.