giovedì 26 gennaio 2012

Despite All My Rage

In recent times, there has been a whole lot of yapping about the very loosely graspable concept of "freedom". Partially because of how the major countries who rule the universe are deciding to handle laws and regulation on private personal freedom and the very thin, almost invisible line, bewtween that and the duties of an individual.

And i'm constantly surprised at how in the discussion of freedome, that very simple word becomes a tool to actually suppress the real thing. How "freedom of speech" is used as powerful weapon to actually crush any right that individuals have to defnd themselves from abuse in a debate. How "Freddom" to have an opinion means litterally to express hurtful and dangerous thoughts with no oncequence, and attack viciously whoever does not agree.

How drinkers use their freedom of drinking as a way to belittle the sober ones, and to not feel judge they judge others.

How Vegetarians use their freedom to not eat meat as a tool to abuse other people's choices with aggression and attempts to convert. not completely removed from how Templars did with Christianity

But i dont really want to discuss that.

Recently i happened to see a documentary, which contained a video concerning the state of Clinics for The Mentally Ill in Italy (and other countries).

The video showed people tied up to beds, covered with bruises, dirty, screaming and malnourished. It had been filmed not more than 3 or 4 years ago, and not in regions of poverty or abandon. It wasnt a clinic for the rich but not a public one either.

To that followed a series of images from asylums for the criminally insane. People tortured, abused, starved.

During a discussion on the topic with moderate thinking people, the type of people one invites to dinner and with whom you might share hints to what school you want tyo send your kids to, the reactions i obtained were of this kind:

"Well, yes its terrible, but when you have to handle with crazy people, what are you supposed to do?"

"My brother was sent to a clinic like that. I didnt visit that much back then but when he came out, he was so much better. So i guess some of those places work..."

"Well, criminals are criminals and they're supposed to be punished, so i'm in favour of them suffering. I'm against death penalty though"

But i'm not sure i want to discuss this either.

A classic image i always witnessed when i was visting the psychiatrist, in the waiting room was a young person, male or femal, generally barely over thirty. They didnt look seriously ill. Or if they were the illness had shattered them enough to make them look mostly frail and exhausted. Probably numbed out by chemicals that had slowly but surely eroded their soul. Close to them, there was usually their mother or father. And often what they uttered sounded like this:

"sit right. Dont stare at people. Keepo your head down. Dont touch your hair. Dont talk. Breathe quietly"

And so on. But discussing this with the forementioned moderate thinkers cayused sentences like

"well i am sure that having a mentally ill son or daughter is hard. Poor parents, always blamed of everything. No matter what you do, you're wroing...."

So my point seems to be: we are talking about freedom, and indignantly scream when big faceless corporations take our tiny freedoms away. Or wave how everyone should have less freedome, so we could have order. Each has its own opinion.

And yet. And yet. And yet we own other people's freedome and lives. We make tiny human being so we can own them. We "help" ill people so we can put them in cages. WE condemn wrong doers and refuse that the stae kils them but we want to own their dinity and put it in our pocket.

And in the end all we want is to lock up people. Locke em up and not see them. Get them a meal and a blanket to buy their soul. Trap them somewhere for their own good so we can keep them in away so they dont worry us. Silence their voice, not hear a noise cause that makes us feel safer and clean.

Say hello to your loved ones for me, when you eventually see them

mercoledì 18 gennaio 2012

To Heir Is Human, To Kill Is Murder.

The web can be mostly a bothersome place. To be honest, for the most part it end ups turning moments, tragedies and emotions into a series of disembodied memes and catchphrases that slowly but surrely, take any form of intelligence or soul away from everything.

It doesnt have anything to do with the myth of "the anonimty of the web", which doesnt really exist. It has to do with how quickly information spreads on it and how people tend to trun everything inot black and white chunks of oversimplification. How people become characters and archetypes, fact get overblown and mutated, and covered with thick coat of fabriactions and dramatizations.

Take, as a powerful example, the Costa Concordia case. I am admittedly ignorant. I have been detached from news in the late days, maybe out of cynicism or laziness. Maybe because my brain tends to become erratic when its overstuffed with thoughts. So i knew little to nothing about the details of the tragedy.

So yesterday in an almost compulsory rush to get up to date, i ended up absorbing more emotional and scattered interpretations of the facts than the facts themselves.

Followed by my own gut reaction, which was harsh. And by me reading the, possibly even harsher reaction from people.

The story has now been made into something with a villain and a hero.

And so far, i would be ok with that. Because, i think that when people die out of a tragedy and out of the mistakes of a coward, he has to be pointed out as a villain. And if people need to cope with what happened through that, they have the right to do so.

And thats where the brainy jouranlists feel the need to chime in. CXause nowadays, the thriving need of an essayist isnt firing up people's hearts with words apparently. Its to cynically comment on how silly humanity is at needing hweros and pointing the finger at scumbags and how everything is justifiable even if its murder. So you'll read about their disgust towards an homicidal tryrant (Qaddafi) being attacked by his own victims (the people). Because tis barbaric and his life apprently is woth of sympathy. And you'll read about how a captain who caused people to die with his cowardice, is really "human" and "the real monsters are the ones who blame him"

And so allow me to join the monsters and say clearly: fuck your freedom of speech. Fuck your need to rationalise murder. Fuck the middle ground. The man will be possibly jailed, maybe he will have a good lawyer, working with the same rethoric. "everyone makes mistakes. He was scared. To heir is Human"

No. No more forgiveness. No more easy ways out. No more legalese. No more cool headed writings. Fuck all of that. Hang him. High.

venerdì 13 gennaio 2012

Liars And Roses

I suddenly ralized what could be a major breakout moment in my own psychological self discovery, or mantal masturbation. Bear with me while i touch my synpases.

Time has brought me emotional growth and some sort of maturity through self discovery and harsh analysis of my own flaws. But also the possibility of coming in touch with people that are actually positive, loving and filled with a honest nature that makes interacting with them a freeing, beautiful experience.

And i am blessed to have them in my life, cause being honest is something that cleans your soul from the greasy weight of wearing masks, acting to please others (or to displease them, whichever your own game is), keeping emotions inside, shut down, whether theyre positive or negative. And, especially, it sets you free from the crushing chain that is having to leave things untold.

That is poisonous, essenitally. And having someone with which the level of chemistry, confidence and trust is so high that anything can be said casue you know that the person will accept it and eventually understand it, share it and maybe even love you more for it, is something that makes you feel lighter and more able to live like youre supposed to live.

But, as with everything good, its a rare occasion. And after setting my heart free and leaving it get some hair, i had to remind myself that i do not have to luxury to live like that all the time.

I have still other people in my life, close ones i have to deal with daily who cannot handle honesty. Its in simple things. Little conversations where even the slight topic will turn to war. The lives of some are based on lack of dialogue, and lack of truth. Any honesty, any heart baring, results in pain and anger and frustration.

I have tried to discuss the possiblity of an honest relationship with my own family, but i was faced again and again and again with the reality, which is we are not supposed to be honest with each other or tell each other what we feel or even details of our lives. Because in the end they will be used like weapons to fight with. Because misunderstanding is the norm. Because truth told to one, will be used with others and disfigured so its ounds filthy and cruel and causes bitterness and dischord.

And so it is with other relationships too, i guess. For the few beautiful ones we can be truthful with, we shall hold them close and not let them go. And with the others we shall lie and survive and not expect anything good from them. As humanity is a herd of pigs, with a few angels in the mix.

lunedì 9 gennaio 2012

I Am Not Here

This article started in my head as a consideration. Born out of a potential nice gesture.

I wanted, and still want to, buy a gift for my fiernd's one year old daughter. And while pondering what to buy, i considered how potentially creepy my long bearded face could look to the eyes of a toy seller. I dont think i have the looks of a potential child harasser. But no one ever knows.

And that brought me to think of how much i like, when i'm in a store or a public place, to say "hi" and smile to little kids. How i like to help them reach something from a shelf too high for them. Or help them to recover missing toys. How i adore their faces when they are of a certain age. And how, as a lonely, scruffy, thirty-something man, i kinda cannot do this anymore, since automatically most mothers react protectively towards their kids. And at first my mental reaction is "do i look like a potential threat", and i know i really dont. So it made me indignant.

Then i realized, at the peak of my poisonous self aware that, at the eyes of someone who doesnt know me, i might as well be. Actually, i am a threat at the eyes of people who DO know me.

And in the end, threat or no threat, this is what i am: i'm an adult man that has no family, no kids of his own, is mostly a loner and dresses and looks like someone who isnt completely sure of his future. Right now, i dont werar ties or suits. Once, that was for me, a sign of something. SOme sort of statement, for others it still is. But if youre honest, you have to realize the truth: not wearing a suit, in today's world just means you either have a job that allows you that, or that youre so completely detached from the real world that you dont have any interest anymore in how people see you.

And i realize that i have no kids. My father and my mother are depressed and love to repeat to me at any chance how they feel suicidal. My father told me that today.

I do not love him or like him. And yet, this broken man, with whom i have an estranged relationship at best, sends me into pain and melancholy evrytime he says that. I know i'll suffer when he dies. Because in the end, he is my father.

And that reminds me this: i have no kids. No spouse. I have no one, my absence would really change things for. I have people who love me, which will suffer and cry, eventually. But those things will pass. I have no one that will have part of me in their blood. I will have no one that i have to really think of when the dark thoughts come.

I do fight those thoughts daily but when i do, and i end up thinking of the ones who love me., the last voice i hear says: "their tear will dry, but then theyll find consolation in their own families and loved ones. your memory will disappear"

Ive been facing that feeling lately. And wanting to have family of my own. And yet i feel i cannot. Cause i am broken. Cause i am almost on the edge of unemplyment. Cause of million of reasons.

So maybe thats my destiny. I dont really know.