Let's talk about death, baby...

At the height of a global crisis there is a supression present that makes me want to die. If only it could be painless and immediate. This global crisis may have made us lose our wildest of hairs, after a Dutch saying meaning as much as growing into a responsible phase or adulthood, whilst the increasingly diverse manners of living life after or in the midst of an epic end to civilisation as we knew it are worth a mention, and to some extend, action as well.

But what can we do? Most people lead their lives merely running around like mice in a hamster wheel obediently following conventions and regulations serving the sole purpose of economical growth without ever knowing it, and without even trhinking about or realising their own goals and ambitions. And that is sad.

There are 'limits to growth' (Club of Rome, 1972), that has been engraved in my understanding of the future ahead since childhood, maybe as much as it has into yours. This revelatrion, the fact that there there are simply not enough resources to be able to support an increasing number of humans or for them to have a real validity or qualitry of life is still valid. But that is easy for me to say, being a gay bisexual male without the desire to procreate.

Newer and more advanced forms of life have, or wil be able to, invoke an instinct of the most primitive kind: 'I just don't want you here' and 'I just don't want you near' or at the very least 'I am better than you' as in 'there is a better one waiting,' and you 'shoe!'

'Sing, fight, cry, pray, laugh, work and admire' is the translation of a famous Dutch song by the late Ramses Shaffy (with not even a mention of the F word) being a statement of all those things that make us go on living as emotive beings, rather than simply being a link in the food chain supply to other anonymous existence. Presently, all of those, most notifyingly work, cannot be taken for granted anymore, and I personally experience I am past the date of expiration already. No longer needed. Killing an Arab by the Cure is another song I grew up with. I sung along to the melody carelessly without even thinking or being able to imagine the theme of the song would ever become any kind of reality. But for many people it has, whatever the real deal is. The meaning of the words that define race and origin have become ever so vague. I don't see much of Mo’ these days and as much as he may have fought for different beliefs, they were as valuable as mine, because this kind of peace feels like a long and uncomfortable silence.

Wether you belive in 'plants,' 'moons' or 'Mozes' or are able to imagine unlimited possibilities beyond the grasp of the capabilities of our own imagination, in a world where everything is for sale it has become obvious that what makes mankind corrupted are the attraction to power, sex and money. In my book at least. It's all for the betterment of men that we we may learn to be solidary to each other and find a way to repair the damage, come clean on our own stance towards the subject and find comfort and companionship in each other as we find we have that one major thing left unspoken not be an obstacle between us. Rest in peace.