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Breaking

I don’t think I have a full grasp of the situation yet. But I'm starting to realize the consequences of my foolish actions. From what I have not seen I can make a representation in my head and from these random pieces I have seen and heard I compose a truth of my own. I have learned that nothing is certain, not the way it was before. I had stopped believing. In god I never really did. But in the institutions and politicians and in television and newspapers, the conventional powers that be. In love and in everything else that had shaped me and kept me grounded all those years. As long as there is doubt, I figured, there is always a way out of the sorry mess I got into more recently. The chaos and the debts that were following me, the drinking and casual sex and the failed relationships and arguments and struggles with friends and relatives and authorities I had never been troubled with before. I think it could be sensible to delve into that past and try and describe how and under what circumstances all these impossible coincidences started to occur that had shaken everything I had ever believed in. A global financial crisis had changed the solid base of my existence as a person as well and that was something I had to come to terms with whilst a perseverance in attempts to maintain life as comfortable as it had been was ever present around me as well.

I continued to cut and paste troubled memories from the past. To find the connections and links between the past and the present and imagine what the future could look like. My own reality is only a limited vision of a multitude of new experiences. I had defined my own rules and shaped my own beliefs. I became more critical. I can only lead one single life. It may be very different from yours. Somehow.

A decade-long period of happiness and stability had ended in a mess. And so much was going on. In my direct surroundings and on a grander stage. In this world I cared about. The news and media, I had always followed it with dedication. I adopted the internet from early on and the rise of social media and connecting with others became a second nature that had helped me be successful in work and relations and all those things I had taken for granted. My life had more or less merged with it. With IT. Until, I cannot remember exactly when it was, these media started to dictate my life. Or was it the other way round? It all became a bit of a blur. I had realized too late I had become a miserable loser. Out of work and out of money. A lifeless and willess doll, to use a metaphor, that had realized too late that all this time he had really been under influences that had misled him all those years. In a body I didn’t recognise. With thoughts that were no longer mine alone.

You gotta think twice is a lyric you often hear in music, like in George Michael's Faith, but before you've had a chance to think twice, an opportunity is often gone. Or a click has been made for a purchase, only to increase the credit card bill. WIth an interest of 19%. Sometimes there is just not enough time to think twice and other days there are simply too many impulses to deal with to allow my self the commodity of doubt. And before you know it you become a helpless doll that realises too late that he has only been guided or directed to do certain things for the agenda of others. A man inside a body that he sometimes no longer recognizes, with thoughts that don't usually come up in his head. In my head all the same. In recent years I have experienced what it is like to be observed and heard every day and night. Like a terrorist. That made me wary. When I actually had nothing to hide. I largely withdrew to a corner in my dark ground floor apartment in Amsterdam and became isolated. Occasionally I saw friends or family but the conversations were forced and tense, so I couldn't wait to be alone again. Actually, I had been bugged for a long time, but I never thought about it. Until…

What are you doing? she asked. I called my mother a few times a week. Now I'm looking out the window. I was just watching an old episode of Eastenders on the BBC. It was often difficult conversations I had with her. My mother leads an isolated life, confined to a wheelchair for as long as I can remember because she had Multiple Sclerosis. A muscle disease that can progress in fat different ways, but in most cases slowly but steadily degrades and paralyzes the body with little to no hope of improvement. Again and again she had to hand in a position. She could have driven a car when I was growing up. I admire her because despite her illness and the divorce from my father, who had left her not long after the outbreak of her illness to care for me and her son from a previous marriage, Co. She spent most of her days and evenings these days watching soap operas, crime and police- and forensic television shows. I often visited her during the weekends and then felt a heavy burden lifted off me when I walked back to the station to go thome again, where in spite of everything, I had at least been able to lead my life in beautiful surroundings. Architecture can be a consolation when times get rough and I can still marvel as I wander around in the canal belt of the city. That's where I worked. And I chose, or was given the opportunity, to live in the capital. 'This must be the place I waited years to leave,' is a song from the album Behaviour by The Pet Shop Boys and that's how I thought about Roosendaal. It is a small provincial town in the southwest of the Netherlands. The official Abba fan club is located there. Was located there. The official one in the world that is. Somehow. The city where I grew up is historically a railway city with trains to Antwerp and Brussels in Belgium passing Roosendaal and all railway roads to southern countries make a stopover in the city or pass it by. This can take a while because the platforms of Roosendaal station are very long. Industry was present until the end of the twentieth century. Not in the least place in the form of Philips lamp factories. Philuips has its roots in Eindhoven and all of its factories are now largely outsourced to the world of cheaper labour. These days it is mainly the distribution halls of Primark and other online shopping conglomerates and mail order companies that still employ those people working locally. Previously, the inhabitants of the city worked at the sugar factory DSM, the LIGA biscuit factory, Red Band, a candy brand and in the transport sector. My grandfather, my mother's father, worked at Philips. At birthday parties he enjoyed to proudly state that his work, basically pushing a button on a conveyor belt at regular intervals, was so simple that he could easily read a book during working hours. That was all he had to do. My grandmother did the housework and took care of the children, as was normal in those days. From the mid-1970s, grandpa and grandma went on holiday to Spain. Bus trips to Benidorm and later also a number of other places on the Spanish coasts, which were organized by Philips. The employer and this employer in particular in this small to medium sized town was dedicated to aspects of the personal life of its employees as well, a grander plan that had created Philips boroughs and Philips houses. My grandparents vacations to Benidorm were in early days partly offered by the factory employer in a post-communism early socialism sort of way. My grandparents have not traveled further than that. They were simple, hard-working people and, in my opinion at the time, they were rather strict. I especially liked the railway station because it was where I escaped the city and the quarrels with my half-brother and the petty bourgeoisie of the people who lived there. My mother was different, she was more sophisticated and, despite her illness, subtle, witty and ironic during the few moments she spoke. At the same time, I felt that spending the majority of the week elsewhere I had left her behind as my father had done, but she also allowed me an independent life in young adulthood and there was now district nursing and domestic help. She survived all these years. She always kept smiling.

I'm suddenly getting a lot of bills all at once, I told her. I sat at the rectangular wooden table in my downstairs apartment, fiddling nervously with the snaking wires of the landline phone, staring out the window. Athens, the name of the landline telephone, a museum piece that was there due to circumstances suddenly caught my eye and for a moment I wished I were in Greece. On the table were bills from phone providers, internet providers, and power companies, along with all sorts of other papers, including traffic violations. The amounts seemed completely arbitrary here and there and the fines imposed after an installment was not paid on time were out of all proportion. Then you should keep up with it a bit better, she said, you must have been whoring and snoring again. I think she knew I went out a lot and drank a lot and sometimes used drugs on the weekends. It was sometimes as if there was some kind of telepathy between us lately.

AUTOMATIC

Everything goes by itself. We will have to choose our words carefully. So that sentences are not constructed automatically. Based on thoughts and preferences that may not be entirely ours anymore. Because your sister thought this or acted like that. Because you played or acted. Or because you weren't logged in. Writing allows you to think about what you want to say and find the right words for it. There is a movement going on that thinks we shouldn't worry too much about what goes on above our heads. That we should leave because it is better elsewhere, because we are happier elsewhere or because the sun is shining elsewhere. But in doing so, we are actually relinquishing power. After all, we cannot decide for others when they are not present. Boundaries have disappeared and norms have faded. The road to resignation can be fast when everyone is gone and there is no news, or only news trying to negotiate in a powerless tribalized world.

The television screen was for my mother like a window to the outside world that she herself no longer knew from her own experiences. Television enlarged the world on the one hand by updating news programs and coming into contact with the culture as it was in other cities and abroad. Even if it was through fiction about crime and hospitals like General Hospital and Medium and all those other series, about the police and forensics, like NCIS, CSI Miami, CSI New York and all the spin-offs that were. I noticed that LL Cool J was hot and acting well these days. I´m gonna knock you out. Mama said knock you out by LL had been somewhat of the soundtrack to my youth in this almost-gangsta's-paradise-but just-not-quite-like-in-the-rap-videos-on-MTV. Projects are planned housing social welfare blocks with uniform spaces and it is in such an environment I grew up. Sign of the times, conspiracy to overthrow the mind. Behind every fortune there is a crime. I felt like I could relate to the poetic justice that was expressed in the lyrics of rap music and in the ideas such as in Projects by the Wu Tang Clan I found a different way of thinking, In many ways, music was my school and its melodies and lyrics were an escapism during my youth which evolved often around the health of my mother. And hopelessly being devoted to my next new best friend. I was, during high school years, quite faithful being best buddies with Rob and was slowly coming to terms with the possibility of being bisexual, for I had not discovered the word gay yet in all its depth and frankly those representing the community and the imagery surrounding them had frightened me, for my open mind was that of a smalltown boy. So nervously I played Nervously by the Pet Shop Boys with him on one of those steamy after school afternoons or weekend evenings. For we spent most of our free time in my room or his listening to music and for the earlier years of this friendship that went on to last decades I was smittened with him and felt a love that went beyond platonic friendship. The drama that entailed in my inner world when he got himself a girlfriend was of the tearful dimension often found in American high school television shows, for guidance was also found in Grease and Beverly Hills 90210, when soap was still good! Later on, in my late adolescence, I had a relationship with another young man, but I didn't talk about them often with my mother nor with Rob. What stood out in the television programmes we watched together were the dialogues and some of the other characters who played in the series. The dialogues told her things in the subtitles that were personal or about her or me. The characters were sometimes relatives who had died with whom she had a close relationship. It was as if the series had become a lesson for her that made her think about her own life and learn to understand the lives of others. The television communicated with us, I noticed when I visited her. "What do you want on your sandwich." I then asked. 'Cheese' LL responded immediately. I understood that this was new technology that can either give life a new dimension, or make it a narrow tunnel. Not in the least place, it offered us consolation. We, being Dutch, had been accustomed to read along with the subtitles of the foreign series, shows, movies and sitcoms we would watch, even as my English improved, but this year, ever since, I do not know whatever happened, the transcriptions of the dialogues were sublimely communicating with us in such a manner that we would just not really mention it in each others company. And so the long and windy road of influencing had begun. Influencing one might call a brainwash, a diversion of reality that is not reality itself or a wicked manner to withhold the general public from what is going on. It was not until much later I realised this brainwash was also educating me and it was not always the others that had the truth in their hands but to a certain extend it was us. Me and my family and some selected friends.

FALLEN FROM GRACE

Now I am in Amsterdam. All I see is a handful of neighbors and passers-by that differ from day to day. They appear to be avoiding me like some kind of pest. And I hear nothing but voices of those whom I can not see. Those who are anonymous. I see shadows and shades in my vision that belong to my past. Of a life that somehow appears to have ended whilst every day appears to be stranger. Paranoia is a state in which someone recognises themselves in the act of others or in the surroundings they are confronted with, through imagery or in texts. But this appeared to be actually the case on my screen. For real. Too many shadows whispering voices faces on posters, too many choices if, when, why, what, how much have you got? Again, citing the Pet Shop Boys, My relationship of almost ten years had ended and so had my work in media. It is solely in these shadows and voices I get reminded of these connections and links from the past that now seems to be a previous life. The people I never really see or talk to anymore. Those who may have disappeared by now. Since I became poor after a life of friends, families, fun and laughter had gone astray during the times I spent traveling from weekend city trip to weekend city trip while working on my laptop. Ryanair and cheap air fares had been a blessing for me in my twenties. I quickly mastered the tricks of Search Engine Optimisation capable of influencing search engines with carefully chosen keywords and I had used the technique optimally for my own digital and printed media content company for I had quickly become a sole proprietor as an illustrator and assignments rolled in. I had invested in websites and books in which I could place a portfolio of my work that led to new assignment work. I experienced and saw with my own eyes the developments and transitions that enabled the rise of the internet and digitization. The rise of social media had become stagnant, much of this was due to the same search engine optimization and generic articles without much content that were flooding blogs with cool and intellectual names. I had been an early adopter of the internet and had been able to spend most of my working days surfing. Perez HIlton, entertainment blogs, news sites and the fitness forums I followed faithfully with my my so desired ambition of becoming a Muscle mary, for I had in this decade fully embraced the gayscene as I chatted away and flirted with other guys all over the world on Gayromeo and Grindr while my partner was away doing his day job. We had a more or less open relationship. It had ended because there were suddenly too many choices and a date for the purpose of sex was as easy to obtain as junk food. Looking back, I would say say that at times I led a life all too hedonistic but the one thing I will always regret is the deep and meaningful friendship of my partner that I should have been more devoted too. But alas, relationships do not last a lifetime anymore, monogamy is an option and the lives of my grandparents were, to be frank, rather dull and uninspiring, from my perspective.

Today I saw a picture of a 'terrorist' on the BBC News website. A colored man with a device attached to his with bandages covered abdomen region to administer insulin as is the case for diabetes patients. An anonymous, nameless man who was shot at by an anonymous, nameless gunman. Presumably, it will be possible in the future to live disease-free through nanotechnology and computers, scans and integrated systems. Information technology or IT had not only had an effect on my work field with generic and generated content. The spins and intrigue in the field of the globalized world that had come to operate as one through the communal integration of banks, information systems, stocks, the algorithm and not in the least place the formula that had the ability to be a driving force throughout most disciplines of life and work. These spins were often fabricated and the images were clearly presented as some sort of propaganda. Fabrications complicate the world in a web. Too much useless information plays with your head, so sung Kylie. Minogue of course, whom else. Datajournalism had taken over the media that now had the larger responsibility of sustainability of the worldś population and its resources. Also, in the future it will probably be possible to be diagnosed by data. Or be defined by the media we consume. And everything else that can be recorded or observed by mechanisms of biometry and information collection, for IT is a holistic concept, it entails all aspects of life, and we can but encounter it as a benign influence in our midst. And finally, supposedly, the observation and collection of data is able to diagnose the patient. And possibly cure it to to some extend, often by prevention, So I had noticed myself by now. You should be able to rely on that new species we had started to call that, somehow, or thing. If there was any major change in the occupancy of health professions it should not be punishing us for our lifestyles, for instance by raising the cost of health insurances to gay adult men or smokers or binging women. The opinion of any health professional should always maintain neutral. So that we do not have to say whether we are for the Muslims or for the Americans or the Jews when we need medical help. The past few days I saw some articles and it scared me. There are too many people. Every human being has the right to live. Every animal too. That's what I really thought in all my naivety. I ate no less chorizo for it. Right now I am mainly concerned with keeping creditors and tax administration officers out of the door. I see a lot less people. I had fallen from a height of wealth and social circles of the high profile kind and found I suddenly led an isolated existence. All by myself. Somehow maintained locked to the ball and chain of my former contacts. For their high profile should not have to be dragged down by my new and low social status, being dependent on welfare, being one hell of a dumb ass at dodging another one.

TRIBANAL

The methods that were used to point out to me that I was actually a completely useless offender, a pig monster who should never have been born, were somehow also quite beautiful. A team of experts, psychiatrists, doctors and other scientists from various countries formed a kind of panel that continuously criticized him, as in me, and gave directions. These were enhanced or somehow gifted people of a new breed, so it seemed. They also spoke clearly for or against him. Being me. Because the views on the rather complex nature of his regions depend strongly on cultural differences and backgrounds, an international form of blended dialogue was applied to this panel that should eventually lead to a compromise that everyone could agree on. Because existing rights are blatantly violated here, communication was often done by using complicated terms within a lot of sentences that remained a somewhat floating, abstract whole, but at the same time managed to convey a comparable degree of understanding to all involved. But what was really the offense was something I could only delve deeper into myself as the days turned into months. Something B was important. Something barebacking was condomless sex between men. And something or someone had declared some kind of war against the practice. And not that alone. I was supposedly so erratic in all my actions that my flaws had to be constantly corrected by all those around me on those moments I was there.

During that night in NZ Sauna, a gay sauna in a side street of the Nieuwezijds Voorburgwal in the center of the city, for example, during a conversation I vaguely noticed in the background that I could use twitter, while another thought not. The witch hunt had become a weighing scale with an array of experts infinitely superior to myself. Having been such a monster. There was a very fast exchange of words and concepts that these super smart people present that talked like computers at a pace that was much too fast to follow and also partly confusing and incoherent without any actual substance at times, whilst being incredibly witty at all times. Fluent in movements interacting while I as in he would remain dorkish and stumbling or stuttering at most a few words to the person next to me. Then I heard the synchronous rhythm of these eloquent masters of hypnosis, brainwashing and behavior influencing as if in a daze. Did I understand correctly? These young, beautiful men who all looked and talked like they had a very rich education and expensive colleges and came from for me at that time still developing countries such as Pakistan, Brazil, Qatar and Dubai talked to each other, but they talked about me via each other. About how I could improve my life, about the choices I made and all this with so many gestures, corrections and puns that the result felt like an immersion and reality check at the same time. We were in a gay sauna dressed in nothing but a towel, in the smoking area where about half of us were smoking cigaretytes. I was in reality too busy checking out their physiques, their bodies, for most of these men expressed a heightened sexual attraction I was everything but immune for and their judgement night topic was ruining all the potential fun for me. Why were we not fooling around and doin’it, doin’it, doin’it wild, in the words of the rather underrated LL Cool J. I was stunned and could only stare in front of me. This was very real life. There I was thinking I was a motor or whatever. This here was so talented and fast and also operated like a cooperating international swarm complementing each other with the subject of that miserable man that I myself had become. The doors of this room were closed and there was a damp of cigarette smoke surrounding us. Through the window I noticed the other visitors of the club were calmly looking at their phones and relaxing in the lounge area. Occasionally they picked up a word from their smartphone (such as 'dad'), which referred to the topic that was being discussed at that moment. That word seems to appear at a random place on their smartphone, such as in the list of WiFi networks, and is apparently generated to be supportive of content of some sort. A media link, possibly in combination with biometrics. The technology of auditing collects words, images, thoughts and movements to create a collective consciousness that can respond instantly and in realtime to the conversations currently taking place in that space, enabling new forms of media. In most cases more fluid in nature, but still able to convey a message that can be understood through the whole of shades of grey that are available to them. I as in we don't have the answer to these complicated questions either, but my iPhone is saying 'applecake' right now. You are me and we are you, is only one of the mysterious songs that Professor Doctor Maxwell has made. Allegedly we are practicing the same religion, so to speak. I had owned his album when living in Roosendaal. Bizarre coincidences suddenly occur on a daily basis. Then time is always a factor these days. One that makes everyday life unpredictable. This mode of communication arose from a multitude of bodies and minds in a discourse related to all kinds of things going on in my life. Why me? What has happened? The reflection of my life and relations I have been seeing for months in the media that surrounds me. On screens, on websites, even in newspapers and on posters. It was as if I had begun to live a communal life with every other human being in my neighborhood reflecting on the apparent layer of existence I was myself not so familiar with. I cannot hear you anymore. I do not want to hear you anymore. I can see you. Will Dan have a Fit when it comes down to it? This on the other hand was not pub talk but an inquisition of a select group of handsome young gay men who had apparently been intruding or following my life for a long time. I had never belonged to any elite, but my computer had found a family line in the past that was supposedly of importance or possibly something like nobility. But this could be play. Quite a serious invasion of privacy could have its perks too. But they were much too kind and beautiful for that. What appealed to me in this was that the situation Mo, the apparent void the Moroccan community had left in our culture, only for some possibly, for there was a blank slate world view necessary that meant for these tutors that the earth was possibly flat after all. Everything was open for discussion there and then and so was the health crisis and the migration of sorts that was according to someuniversal. While this had not been the case in more conventional news reports and on television. These young people drank mineral water, cola and beer while I had not yet been to the bar to buy something. Only the man next to me drank red wine. There were between twenty and thirty men in the smoking room of this swanky modern sauna that had recently opened and was well-designed. Maybe the man was from France and read my tweets about how much I loved wine. Perhaps it was also a coincidence that he was sitting next to me. I realized that I was dealing with the metaphysical or metaphysics for the first time without really understanding at the time. Because existing rights are blatantly violated here, communication was often done by using complicated terms within a lot of sentences that remained a somewhat floating, abstract whole, but at the same time managed to convey a comparable degree of understanding to all involved. For example, during a conversation this morning I vaguely caught in the background that I could use twitter, or not, I didn't understand it clearly enough, he spoke in English. It was not entirely clear to me where the man who proclaimed this came from but he was looking at his phone and playing with it while engaging in the conversation. These young men were presumably strangers, for they came from different parts of the world, but were able to talk to the others as if they were very close friends and had know each other for a long time. So there I was the odd one out. I still do not understand completely. Perhaps the man was from France and had read in previous tweets that he is not much into wine. Why else would they be discussing my Twitter or its timeline? He had also had a complicated conversation with a Polish man, who was also 37. I immediately liked him very much and he felt a certain attraction to me it seemed, despite the fact that he kept shutting me up and babbling loudly in abstract English sentences that somehow managed to get the message across. Bravo!

DEVIL

These days gone by I had been by myself and could not have real substantial conversations and the trade in sex had become a medium of exchange in an economy in which words and letters were used as a medium of exchange. For I was still dating myself too. Names and phone numbers were now a taboo. Being in deep shit would forever not be anymore. It makes sense. I was kind of half in it, I guess, in that bubble, because everything I did was shared with an audience watching over my shoulder for a show that was getting too sad for me to watch. A show that I no longer took part in that played out on the screen of my laptop. That's how it got complicated. 'Just' became a code that stood for 'justice,' a fictitious justice system with an international caliber that intervened in chats and chatting on chat boxes became work. And I saw 'just' every now and then, on one of these seldom dates that seemed as contrived as everything else around me. But all of this had always been off topic all the time. Crazy. The brainwash went on for a long time and every letter and every word took on a different meaning in a reality in which new life eventually emerged that still had to search for what a was and why d. Crypto had only just emerged in my world and I had no idea of the size it would become. How a syllable, a number or a letter can confuse people. I thought, It must be Google Alphabet. Or else I might be in that bitcoin blockchain. The people I meet casually on an anonymous basis insist on continuously making a devil out of me. And who or what is L? Do I have that? Is that me? I´m bad, were the words of the best artist on the opening track of the best selling album of all time by Michael Jackson, Bad. C´est ca.

The world of numerology and cryptic language invites you to think about a happier phrase. Words are useless. Especially sentences. How can they explain how I feel?' Madonna sings it in the song, Bedtime Story. The language of codes and numerology can be so nihilistic and so time-bound that its meaning is often a mystery. You have to have a sense to decipher that and a good memory to remember what letter stood for in what timeframe. You must have a superbrain to try out all the letter and number combinations of the Western alphabet before you open your mouth. Because there are many. For two consecutive characters of 36 (26 letters + 10 digits) digits and letters, 36 to the 36th power are the number of possible combinations. It sounds like something a computer can only do. But the hip language is funny and able to express abstract and very large mechanisms, unfortunately by using euphemisms, for the abstract sounds make no impact to me personally. Mo-die or T-an just tend to numb me into a drag that has lasted too long now. For there are no dramatic realities that are wholly true let alone do these exclude all the manners and grayscales that reality really has become or give any real interpretation to the combinations that are expresses. Desensitising is potentially rooted in evil motives. For we knew about it already, right? A nice code that makes the unpronounceable negotiable gives happiness and at that moment, strangely enough, for the stylistical form is forcing us to think differently, when conventional media beats around the bush on the many innovations that occur, mostly in human life science. Why do all the things I say sound like the stupid things I said before the same Madonna sings in the song Skin and that's a phrase that conveys a feeling that I recognise these days. Language has always been subject to fashion but due to the large amount of inexplicable phenomena in the digital age, words that cover these new phenomena are lacking. So we give the word "K" to the alternate reality and the alternate IT-controlled system in which some of us live. S-k-in! It means nothing. And it means everything! Artificial intelligence has sometimes become dominant in my environment and then you don't always have an answer ready. Sometimes I have to spell every word and just as often I am not allowed to spell every word and sometimes that is compromise. I don't always have a password ready when I meet someone and the question is whether every meeting can, should and should be prepared. Language has become space, time and place dependent or a matter of preferences. But not all of us are as mobile as others and the ability to understand the meaning of a common word that is often repeated, emphasized and isolated requires mutual understanding of what the other is capable of with limited powers, wether you live your life very local or flexing all over. In any case, there is a change going on with language that has to do with digitization and internationalization. In the captions of videos on the internet, on license plates and on packaging, I see captions in codes that are different from what I hear around me, because the human code is much more prosaic but at the same time involves more ambiguities.

BULLSHIT

What bullshit. The site was actually called bullchat and I regularly spent late hours on it at long intervals. In recent years I was there because of the brainwash that was operating at full speed, or was this to be called inclusive language or jargon that separated communities had developed rapidly for lack of words. I try to say I love you but the words get in the way is a song lyric by Gloria Estefan that may describe the emotive factor that creates a division in how humans and hybrids the like prefer to express themselves. All mean in system was a repetitive enterprise that created a dysphoric prospect that cannot be made up by the convenient hard fashion and more disciplined lifestyles being more successful. It had become normal to me.An alternative view of the world. A second nature in hearing an alternative but also a nuisance not being able to respond to the agent´s approval. Limited tunnel vision or a reality scrupulously concealed. The alternative language captivated me. Disgusted me. Thrilled me. Angered me. Confused me. Desensitised me. Rejected me. What I craved for was a real connection. True meaningful friendship and intimate connections with other men, of which I had been separated, and be among friendly women I had loved and honoured my entire life, until I was made out to be a misogynist, due to some strange logic involving my homosexuality. I wanted to talk about the things I observed and talk about these things with like-minded people. I was not among those I had considered my peers anymore. The brainwash has slowly but surely seeped through to me and as a conduit to my network by using insignificant letter combinations and provocative words that were seen on thousands of passing trucks and vans in succession, making the association inevitable, but also on posters, in movie titles, in names and on the internet and in apps. In terms of content, the new language and dynamic and the meaning of the letter combinations and syllables vary in different places and at different moments, with different company. B has been just about everything now. F is still fuck I assume, I just never seem to get it. Scanning through the biographies on chat sites like , I also became acquainted with the images that were really impossible to make and the train of thought that went on, that somehow started with on, many moons ago. A concept I cannot fathom or have simply not experienced, for it has been used in all kinds of contexts. But yes, I was horny and then my needs are very primitive. I simply remained blunt and very addressable but to no avail. I lead my life in an isolation cell just so that I can live it longer, only to be ordered to die or go away every moment of the day on some days. Sure.

Bullchat had always been a gay dating website and it was meeting another man or at least the possibility to build a friendship with another man I was ofter, mostly on stimulant drugs fuelled nights. I had come to see the amphetamine as a necessity to be able to survive with all the physical and mental torments I had to go through by an automated observation system that has merely the capacity to whisper and respond in the softest tones on one hand and cause my life to be completely directed by it on the other hand in a saddening trade off in which homophobia and personal antipathy has sadly caused the type of tuning that would make any person want to kill themselves. Offending. Correcting. Just for the sake of it. Using, abusing, framing, threatening, hospitalizing me, just for being an awful person. This is what has unfortunately become the new perversions of the augmented methodists. After money, power and sex are all just factors of doubt and hatred, jealousy and animosity. I had become a hermit that is unworthy of living or having any sort of intimate relationships and not in the least unable to have a normal sexual life and the slander has spread around like a virus. Bullchat had been the last straw. I had used this chatbox to make friends and meet other men for sex dates since my young adulthood. I had been going there to chat with other gay men and make appointments to meet in my own city or in some cases in different cities. Now, and possibly even for these gay men themselves, the aspect of being witty in cryptographic messages and visuals appeared to be in part generated content, for it was capable of exposing a conspiracy of friends and family that made me feel uncomfortable using the chat box, but it may have also been a rather poor attempt at blackmail or extortion, for my life had become public for some or for many for some reason that appeared to know me and follow my everyday movements, to respond to them or imitate thoughts that could have been mine. Thoughts about some brother in law´s brother I have seen a few times or some boyfriend of a girl;friend I went out with a couple of times about twenty years ago that had somehow become larger than life for having become a sight in the distance or a familiar face for some part. Random stuff, repetitive too, but there were more alluring aspects to the new style of chatting that rarely led to a meeting or exchange of location even but was functioning as a tool to get a grip on the diversity of the lives that other people or new roles pretending to be people or even just chatbots as being a piece of software that would be able to hypnotise me with a tickertape of words, dates, names and places and even those very topics lacked any kind of definition and were as much a role-playing-category as in being a different category, that the constant live and partially directed and for a large part also automated at times to evoke an effect, to startle at the right moment of even to cause a state of hypnotizing and most of all causing arousal and stimulating feelings followed by repelling and sissuading feelings in intervals as the bullchat website application, a long list of words in different categories that were roles of things with a different intention in its original form, like the age for instance, implying that these people did not really have an age at all. Next to the long and constantly updating list of words tolling past there were photoś, more often than not nude and in the nudes there was more often than not a penis, a big penis for it started to show that there was some kind of manipulated or artificial form of the male body and spending a night with this website would maybe at one point bring about a reward, however, in almost all cases this remained a tantalus torture. A torture that was named after the Greek mythological story of Tantalus who was in a place where he was unable to leave from and in this place he was surrounded by by fruits and everything the man wished for but he could never reach them until he finally died of hunger, Who, in this mysterious setting of an online space in which location was somehow not of importance anym ore, due to various factors, and the most important of them we am not familiar with or can only guess. This online space was free of shame and guilt. Here we witnessed them that were not hindered by origin or background. Who may not sleep or not live or maybe never die. That doesn't have to get old. Which may not even be visible. Who doesn't work or is always working. Who thinks in binary or sees statistics in a partner. Who prefers to communicate anonymously. Who finds power and honour corrupting and at the same time finds pleasure in those perversions. Like a horny man high on steroids. Higher than the highest kite or altered into a state where he was truly open minded or ridden of classes and conventions. And then there were those who do not have these feelings but are motivated by the reward or the playful aspect of it all. Wanting to join a subculture in which common interests are united by fantasy and sympathy rather than by political views. Who had come to the conclusion that conscious choices about marriage, monogamy, sex and reproduction, abstinence or the ultimate hedonism can be a basic principle for one's own identity and emancipation in a new political system that was deadlocked and entangled in empty slogans and scandals. Pursuing new ideas about economic growth or population decline since accounting had become absurd. An underground counter-movement like the one portrayed in the film Raspberry Reich,´ directed by Bruce Labruce, would never become F. Not in form and not in content. In that area it becomes clear that everything is open and that some form of education and improvement is needed. The sexual education as a form in which basic principles could be moulded but one in which almost every aspect was still outside our comfort zone. This combination of education and entertainment and at the same time showing a contradictory form of health and coaching, human trafficking, news and current issues in pin sharp detail is anything but art and elitist principles, philosophies and belief systems are clearly not something that the director nor the actors have to deal with. To be ballast. But that's also refreshing. Lately there have been strange figures among them and the chatbot had made its appearance. The public was late in finding that out and so had I been. It was so that Bullchat was being used for spionage or fishing for local information too but around the same time the conversations often went nowhere and tribalization and influence took over in most case. There was also a fictional or non-fictional reality surrounding new life. Not dating, but chatting in itself became a goal while a trait had apparently taken place in the man that was being seen and had started to see himself as a commodity. Spies to brainwash me and with it those people who were watching me. Or measuring for that had become the word lately that was being used for both hearing and seeing were not senses that we experience the same. Back when it meant about the same thing as automatic intelligence. The emphasized words and codes gradually took over my vocabulary of truth-finding to some extent even allowing for a binary system of words in which every word or phrase was twofold. I have now become a bionic case with features myself and I feel tingling in my ears and my vision has an extra layer sometimes. Then there was the role of the trafficking of paid sexual services or dating that was fixed for and by celebrities and soccer players and their children. Angelina ́s kids, Gloria, Brad so the rumour went, a boyband member sometimes and some professional soccer players were either referees for a league that was beneath them or they were themselves being provided with the location and companion of their liking. To call it paid sex would be an exaggeration for the people in this field were as rich as it gets, but there is a shady link between the star being a CD or Communautaire Diplomatique. I think it was in a haze I read about Gloria or her husband Emilio being online on this predominantly Dutch chatbox. I knew that her son´s name is Nayib. And I vaguely remember Rocco and Lourdes, the children of Madonna or at least seeing their names on the tickertape. Drug dealers have their own trackers. They started selling through Bullchat and celebrities could watch incognito and participate while I watched on the reserve bench from the sidelines. Hablamos el mismo idioma means Let's speak the same language it was on her album Mi tierra which was a tribute to her Cuban roots and means something like my roots, background or earth. The brainwash had one cause : B The letter stood for, or still stands for barebacking, a word that has been used for many decades, especially in gay porn movie titles. It means riding a horse without a saddle but now it meant anal sex without a condom in the gay scene and was mainly used in porn movie titles. Little did I know that everyone I knew had been watching all this time. Secretly, doppelgängers and clones arose that further complicated the intertwined whole of shadowy merchandise and wonderful and willing bodies, while gender and sexual preference became something that was not necessarily a given that was fixed for the time being. The situation of the disappeared Muslims, which according to so many on the chat box simply did not exist and that of the mixed cases also became a reality that was still not completely settled, and the doubts about location had also had an effect in the ibio introductions people (had not, in hindsight) posted on Bullchat as well as on apps like Grindr which made the form and function of the internet bio introduction into a confusing pot-pourri of many sorts of information that worked as an intuitive and playful tool to read, so to speak. It was better than watching TV. This dating website had become a game in a way that was connected to our private lives and our connections and had an air of foreign exoticism and a new deal packaged in an overdose of vanishing information and (erotic) photography where order, discipline, punishment and reward could be seen as new principles in a free state where there is no longer room for conventions. For they who was free of shame and guilt. Who were not hindered by origin or background. Who may not sleep or not even live. That might not even ever grow old. A new semisexual, bisexual or transsecual subculturethat does not work anymore. For them who thinks in binary or sees statistics instead of a partner.

YOU ARE DONALD TRUMP

There can be no question of a tunnel in our media consumption but personalisation and the increase of channels that bring us information and the infinite choices that YouTube and the internet have to offer caused a different kind of fun. But since artificial intelligence news images on television and also the timelines that rush past on screens I had felt confused. There were publications and posters in the city that proclaimed an apocalypse or catastrophe of some sort and friends and acquaintances had gone out of sight and I started to feel that I was being controlled by the words and images I was seeing in my surroundings and on the screen first and foremost, since I had stopped buying the press and fashion and lifestyle music magazines on paper. The end of print was a book about graphic designer David Carson that would prove to be predicting the end of the craft or even profession I had been able to earn a living with. In these tumultuous times I would later start to call My personal revolution it was difficult to know what was real and what was propaganda or merely a part of the brainwash I received that was very clearly focused on myself alone and the question why me would continue to haunt me forever. Personalized media are really a prison for it will only continue to, through both content and advertising, show me what I want to see. At least this is what I thought. There was also the strong indication that everyone in my surroundings was more or less and sometimes completely aware and somehow capable to read and experience what I was without specifically telling me they were. How to define a truth and the question of the necessity to do so would become evident in the years to come. There was the reality of everyday life, the reality of the media I consumes that had become personalized to the extend of public personalities addressing me as if they knew what I was doing, even what I was wearing. The thought of being entered my thoughts for it was the messages I read on the timelines of social media account that reflected my reality and to a certain extend influenced me to the point of controlling my life. This was slowly but surely becoming a new reality for me but asking other people if it was for them too turned out to be one of the most difficult things in the world. Because of the ideas people have when talking about enhanced media and messages we can only recognise ourselves in are deeply rooted in mental illness and paranoia.

Artificial intelligence and imaging techniques allow a media personality like Donald Trump to address each of us in person through generated images, compilations and personalized content. Donald Trump was not popular in my surroundings. He was right-wing and openly opposed people of color in the United States and homosexuals but an economical crisis had caused a domino effect in industries and banks under Barack Obama´s government. The subjects Donals Trump came up with appealed to a very different and by dominant media much overlooked groups of locals and cowboys. The redneck vote was of importance for the politics of Obama had been very much focused on the innovations coming from Silicon Valley and foreign policy, being a uniting person. Trump appealed to those that did not get to see much let alone care about the rest of the world because they had trouble maintaining their jobs and their mortgages. Trump was a real estate mogul and his presidency came with the rise of hipsters and designed areas that were formerly gentrified and managed to create a belief in the lifestyle of the local hero in her of his re-invented role. Such a thing was unimaginable in the Netherlands. Trump symbolized the negotiations and trade agreements that had made the world into one globalized whole in no time from many more or less closed nationalities and power blocs by tackling cross-border issues such as climate change, refugees, globalization, digitization and new life. Also the many mergers in aviation and information technology and the intertwining of stock markets, banks and IT and the freedom and emancipation that Arabic countries and Africa have enjoyed since the revolution that was called the Arab Spring, which started in Egypt. Through the internet and social media, young people and the relatively surprisingly well-mannered and -educated population of North African countries and the Arabic world came into contact with Western culture, demanding to have the same opportunities or the right to leave their country as Europeans and Americans had long had. The Arab Spring revolution was also called the Facebook revolution and I can personally say that it came about at around the same time when my personal, private revolution started in the early or mid 2010´s. Due to a sharp increase in the number of civil servants and the digital culture, which had become completely paperless, Donald Trump really only had to tweet. He did so under the name POTUS or President of the United States. It the system codes that were one aspect of artificial intelligence this term potus has an alternative meaning that is yet to be clarified. It could be nothing.

BUK SYSTEM

In the video´s and speeches I saw of Trump, I was fed with an experience of reality that, partly due to confusion and silence in traditional media and the complexity, selectivity and fabrications and commercialism that prevailed in traditional media, presumably due to a multitude of sensitive subjects and economic crises that have been made by introducing negative interest rates to stimulate even more money borrowing and monetary policy, which was previously completely controlled by A, AA and triple A. This made the credit ratings a farce, where the former colonies and developing countries of the past cleverly capitalized on it, and an upside-down world arose. From a completely Western-oriented worldview, it was now that new world that took center stage. This time for Africa, sent Shakira from Colombia in the song Waka waka, the title song of the World Cup that was hosted by Africa that year and immediately became one of the most viewed videos ever on YouTube. All you need is a white box with a laptop in order to live, an American friend told me. That is true, and that is how many more people lived, but when the words and images I see on that screen only reflect my own life and reality, then there is a bubble, a dialogue that is going on between myself and the personalized appearances of Donald Trump and the articles tailored to my life and preferences that I read in news articles and on television. My bubble became an isolation and because of autoresponders, biometrics and surveillance systems that reflected in my environment and what I hear and see on websites and timelines I had the impression that I lived in my own world. Like some sort of autistic person. A world that was fed with thoughts, for example about B, supposedly a clique formed by homosexual rulers whom, in a global diplomatic game of fucking f-u-n sealed or dealed international agreements, for the sake of play first and foremost because the intellect and the illusion of power had become almost sexier than the act of sex itself for some of them. Porn-dominated streams, which I followed because all the subjects I could not talk about with my friends were reflected in these streams. New territories, blending of race and artificial life and enhanced bodies with monster penises in an unknown location that served as a haven of both condomless and safe encounters. The practice received a bad rep because of the B assfixation. A grand game of strategy and power for the big boys, political leaders, bank managers, media personalities, bureaucrats and even army units and police- and other uniformed employees. We'll straighten them out, Donald Trump had said. On my TV or on everyoneś TV. That can't have money, he also said, although it was still unclear which new subculture that was. Words that don't say much for themselves that had acquired an enormous bulk of information in my bubble of codes and pre-programmed artificial intelligence I could never share with anyone. The government of the United States had Secretary of State- and other officers that somehow seemed to involve my reality or the selected few that had access to it. The temporary presences of secretaries in the government of Trump included Mattis, Comey and Bannon and somehow their premiere in the the media had related to my own encounters or adventures that had occurred during the night before. Was I the only one who was reading more into the names of these officials then in the articles they featured in? A new tradition was born that had seemed unthinkable, the temporary presence of a public figure in the political arena that would disappear into oblivion as fast as it had emerged. I consumed the intrigue, trivialities and spins eagerly for it had still seemed in a very naive way that I myself was some kind of instigator in all this. This undoubtedly had to do with the tunnel or bubble that personalized media and artificial intelligence as well as creative wordplay that I had seen on screens. If not myself alone then for sure I was in the circles of a secret society or conspiracy of some sort. And all I wanted to do was publish about it. This turned out to be a difficult task. And my drawings were poor continuously no matter how hard I tried. One thought remained: Whether we hear and see the codes that can be heard and seen under the testing speech bubbles can have the same meaning for others. Anyway, so be it, since the crash of MH17 in Ukraine there have been less media hype and disasters causing that much publicity in the Netherlands in particular. There were others that consolidated the playful exposure of the truth and the lie, held secrets for themselves and were only amused and inspired by the fabrications of data journalism and information technology or IT. The new style of writing and the new journalists and correspondents that in reality had all you somehow wanted or needed to know in their name motivated these people to play along with it. I followed this with a new flame of motivation that had burst inside me. This was interesting. It's the 11th amendment that started it all, Madonna had sung on her album Rebel heart and Everybody in this party is shining like Illuminati. The eleventh amendment is open to various interpretations but appears to have functioned as a major shift in the rooted ideas that storytelling and media content of the internet as well as in the thought patterns of a new correctional entity that had come into existence, some would start calling them traps. Or, moderating this, for there are so many factors leading to cause and effect that we must always take into consideration a multitude of effects that can bring about any change, revolution or New world order, unless we place our focus completely on one of these factors. And I believe Madonna, that is all. Cause and effect have, in my case and others, ceased to exist. Not in the least place due to the brainwash I had trapped myself in. I should have just stopped reading the timelines, headlines and notifications, for the numbers, that were everything, were suddenly interpretable in so many ways, they had lost their meaning. Essentially, the numbers meant nothing.

BLESSING OR LIFE SENTENCE

Soit, so be it, Anyway, since the BUK system that would have been the cause of the crash of MH17 in Ukraine nothing would occupy my mind more than influence through language, generated texts and programmable codes,that could also function as a method of mind control and still do so. At least in my everyday life. Which, with all these extra layers, clones and mindfucks was in a way much more exciting than the content of regular broadcasts. I felt like I was nothing more than a singular part of the B conspiracy that had, annoyingly enough, caught the attention of my brother and sister and my straight friends, most of them were, and they had started to see the act of lovemaking as a sort of crime. The fact that HIV had come as a blessing for some of us that were sexually active would not surface until safely on daily medication and with the much coveted undetectable status. Our biggest fear had suddenly vanished, simply because we had already acquired it. And the hedonist partying, traveling, hard working, polygamous and creativehomosexual had become something like the teddy bear of a capitalist consumerism driven society that was in need of new role models and ready to shake off the old dogma. Sex and the City and Will and Grace showed the lives of happy single people that spent most of their time dating and relating. The opening of the Arab world and the influence the internet had had on it would cause for the man to become a symbol of sexuality in the manner that women had been since the Page three girl in the Sun and the Centerfolds in Penthouse had begun to play a respectable role in Western world imagery, advertising and female emancipation and their sexuality, which had been a matter of personal choice since the sexual revolution of the 1960ś and 1970ś. The Western gay man had, for all the right and all the wrong reasons become like in the era of Orientalism attracted to the masculine machism, straightforward and at times patronizing or role-playing Arabic man. According to some the tables had turned and the muscular adonises of the gym and empowered by fitness culture had become sexual icons in their own right. In Amsterdamthey started to date and flirt in particular with Moroccan men, since Mo had a large presence here and there were interesting liaisons between the immigrants and refugees, we could now call them expats, from North Africa, Israel and the Middle East. The exotic has an arousing effect on us humans, be it men or women and the migration of people, the apps and websites making it able to connect us and the loosened morals of the newly bisexual new cuts in town had had its effect on the gay community. Not in the least part the rise in paid encounters. For every market was by now to be exploited and the man had in some cultures become an object of value in a migrating blend of tolerant and open-minded men and women that were out for the flavour of something new. Not that I was the single vehicle that was used in order to create a scandal that was at the same time an understanding that was communally defined and on the other hand something that only appeared to occur, outside the safety of the gay dating apps that I was using which you could call a bubble in their own right, as a conflicting and disturbing influence on my friendships and connections that would cause me to eventually break with them. This without having any other thought than that condomless sex or barebacking should be a personal choice and that risks can be minimized since antiretroviral therapy had made HIV into a chronic syndrome that gave people blessed or cursed with the syndrome a normal life expectancy without the side effects of the combination therapies that were available before. I had come to like Trump. In the universal world dominated by globalization, he was the president of the local economies. Detroit would never be what it used to be, but there were plenty of new developments and innovations and free money for the young hipsters who ensured that the real estate market kept the good appearance it had had before the crisis. All they had to do was drink coffee in fashionable hipster districts and the bars and coffee houses that were cleverly placed by the real estate businesses that held office in the new districts. The street had become a catwalk and the hipster had started to form its own culture that was influenced by the hippies and yuppies of the last century. As long as your beard looks good.

WORKERS

Escaped the house for a while. Took a moment to relax in the library. It is an oasis of peace here. The construction workers have now broken up half the street and they are busy digging. They constantly exchange a barely intelligible cacophony of words with each other. It's hard to not listen to it and it almost drove me insane yesterday. I walked to Albert Heijn to buy some food. There is a Turkish greengrocer next to the Albert Heijn in Frederik Hendrikstraat and I bought some clementines there that later turned out to be purple in color when I got home after I had peeled them, but otherwise tasted fine. A man and a woman standing in the store were just engaged in a conversation and that feeling of 'oh no I have to join in on this conversation' came over me. The woman was from Alanya or Antalya. I couldn't make out exactly what she said. I'm very sorry thank you and bye. I quickly got out of the store. I've never been to Turkey so I did not know what to say. On the way home I had to walk past all those passers-by again and that sometimes feels like having ended up in a video game. I was empty and exhausted and didn't feel like talking. 'You must be laughing then,' said yet another construction worker who was standing in another street and couldn't possibly have heard me suddenly in that serious tone that can give you that feeling that everything is very urgent and that everything you say and does is very important. I quickly walked in. After four beers I fell asleep. I woke up and it was still dark. 'How nice it would be if it just stayed dark today,' I thought as I planned to do nothing at all today. I would just move the furniture so I could watch television in bed. Then I would have done something but not something that I had to think about and I felt like doing that. 'It's OK. You really don't have to do anything. You can be lazy today.' I repeated it like a mantra, convincing myself that it might be better in my case if I just did nothing at all. It was still dark. And it was already half past ten. 'Isn't that what you wanted?' I was deep and busy in thought, but I've already largely forgotten what it was about. 'Those chattering kids are brilliant it's a godsend why isn't the whole world witnessing that,' I thought. 'Mommy I'm stupid I think one egg,' I just heard when a mother with a child passed me. I was convinced it was morning. It wasn't so much that I was afraid it wouldn't be light today, but rather the feeling that I really should do something now. And I didn't feel like that. I just wanted to be alone in the dark today and shut myself off from the world for a while. Was that too much to ask? Earlier that day I had started a movie sharing website. I keep starting things but I never finish anything. This time I was determined to make a plan and take things further. Maybe it would be a good idea to make a movie about what the world would look like if there were only women or only men, respectively. I thought back to Saturday night or maybe it was Sunday. Somewhere in the Red Light District I was walking when a gate leading into a narrow alley was about to close as I walked by and on a reflex I pushed open the gate and walked into the alley. 'This is a new street, I've never been here, it's just there all of a sudden,' Usually that turns out not to be true afterwards. I also don't know every street or alley in Amsterdam and I don't know who remembers exactly what it was like here in the past. In any case, I had never been in this alley and there were also all kinds of side streets. People rushed around me at a rapid pace. 'This is go,' and 'we can go' I caught as I walked into a special building. Some kind of wooden...church? Or no, there was no altar, there was actually nothing else that reminds of a church. The building was of that size, only smaller and very sober. I thought it was a perfect space. So for...whatever, to go. I felt very good. Although I still didn't know what "go" means in circumstances like this. "Going" is still just going for a walk or bike ride for me. I was fully aware that this might be the end and that I was trapped but I felt good and I didn't want to leave. The door closed. There was a party of about forty men and women and I recognized a number of faces of old acquaintances. And a celebrity or two. Or they looked like it. Unmistakable.