A bit about me.

In questioning, always withstanding. In truth, always without [it] They say perfection is not granted, perfection is attained. Perfection is accomplished, not when we can describe something, but when we cannot find any word to describe it. The more perfect that something is, the more complete its good and bad warfare are. For instance, water is pure perfection, air is the volume of its perfection, its reflection is the epitome of perfection. Perfectionism is the adversary of being free, as the extreme self-solitude is the enemy of being a well-being. Hence, humans are imperfect but our bodies hunger for perfection, our hearts desire

for perfection and our minds reaches perfection. To be perfect is not to be arrogant, to want perfection is to be rational and to oppose perfection is to be socially left-out. Perfection in the prominent, perfection in the unknown. Perfection is approved, when we recognize the will to be perfect and that reluctance is the enemy of it. Hence, we are inside a perfect box; we can either break it with perfect grief or enlarge it with perfect grace. We seek for perfection, we must scour for it, but avoid perfection in everything, avoid being fulfilled or else we are truly absent from it. Women are the perfection of beauty and emotions, men are the perfection of intelligence or used to be. Hence praise women for preserving perfection and devote your self to protect that perfection. I am a strange man. My life is strange. This technology that you and I see, feel, touch, hear and sense is this cutting-edge technology; the PC. Our brain is just like a PC. It is algorithmic in the sense of giving us the fatal thought in trying to know everything and everyone. It sort of creates a virtuoso antagonism in the sense of creating a healthy competition between you and I in order to argue back and forth on whose knowledge am more superior than. And even though we have seeded sufficient doubts in our minds, we still go on! Because that is how it is, that is how the world is and perceives its self as like that. That is how it is with a healthy competition; it is not a matter of knowing-it-all but rather feeling-it-all; power, corruption, superstition and abuse are just some words that go along with it. Healthy like other terms is an umbrella term, something that tries to cover all the shit talk that follows through after you mention it. Positivity, positive human nature, humanity and generally humanism are all lost, forgotten traits of once a great species. You and I are simply the two sides of the same coin. We are systematically reinforced with the idea that our existence is so great that arguing one another for the sake of humanity is the modern thing to do. We defend things we should never have defended, we support things out of blind faith and we glorified our existence, good health and our full pocket out of this habit of being a Westerner. It is truly hard to pinpoint down who is responsible for this modern tragedy and it is quite hard to believe that our parents are involved or even the government. I remember that a healthy competition used to be inside our childhood, when you and I were once mischievous children. Our playground was back then our own little battlefield: innocent, fun and something we all enjoyed, we lusted for more. Thankfully, children never have evil in them. It is most likely that evil, the concept of immorality is somehow learned after maturing up and being a man, a true man where he has to face reality and stand up to all the shit he is going to come across. Thankfully, most children do not have to cross path with this junk or so I would like to think.

Yes we are strange indeed; we are strange, hence stupid. We are young goons, the most elite sociopaths clustered into this virtual web and not only share insignificant information but also connect with one another. Being a sociopath, a social reject is the best thing you can be on the internet and its celebrated because self-trolling and self-humiliation is a modern human trait that we should all cherish for and leave our seeds to be bloomed by other social rejects. Now using intelligence and wisdom to project yourself as the most complex singular unit, virtually it is cloud nine [heaven]. We are full of shit, our claims are full of shit. That is how the internet operates and self-maintains. Through our dedication, our undying will of fire that indeed there are many like us, socially casted, this projection takes over our critical thinking and critical analysis. Our new generation like us, thinks that we are likeminded and rushes through to outdone us in shame, bigotry and ruthlessness. Fascist moderators or FM for short take over to introduce this egalitarianism under the spectacular fruits of virtual liberalism. The theatre of shadows bruises those who oppose this view and swiftly send their loyal creatures to defend their cause of pseudo-prosperity and rightful manner. It is a well sophisticated system that world of online community and gamers. Well protected and well thought out. From above they send their comrades or in other term their authoritarian hunters to take care of the unrightfully intruders whilst the swarm of locusts makes sure that they never set foot there again. Others rely on the effect of emotional down syndrome where the heart is forcefully disconnected from the brain and when true emotions are out, the fingers of donations clicks burn and burn even more. More guilt, more donations, more emotions out, more commitment and loyalty. All for the sake of the ultimate goal of being ripped off and stripped off from pride, honour and selfdignity. Through this cybernetic anarchy systems are build each day and carefully plan ahead on how to seduce you into contributing into something that you never really thought about because you never really cared about and yet they turn the tables around and reverse the roles. A handful of groups dedicate themselves into self-hate promotion. Shocking stories about the best ways to cut yourself, religious jabbering on how to see miracles and free yourself from sin and other political and social propaganda are all common inside the internet world. Hard as a fist they suck the blood of naive youth and lead them to believe that their products and most importantly their vision of the world is done in the name of humanity and sometimes even science. The more you hate yourself, the more likely to buy into this whole crap and fund these fake imposters of saviours. The brain is so exposed to brainwash material that every single information acts a stimuli whereas in real life you would certainly bypass it as a worthless junk of hysteria. Sometimes even the greatest minds in there get sucked in because they fail to understand that the more you fight it, the more you It is a playhouse full of faggots, whores and cyberpunks. The worst scumbags of the entire earth find a thriving nest to nurture their small goals, ambitions and great plans by scamming and scouring for more money. In the net, there is so much understanding, fake sympathy and

distortion that history is being recreated but bound to repeat itself. Addiction and nudity or sexual innuendos are combined so well that no wonder the results: reaching the highest peak of hidden capitalism. You see these creatures know their place and role in there. They can even exploit their own mother just to get a few cash more and use their friends behind them to do their little work without a trace of guilt. God bless anonymity right? Humans will always be a bunch of fools, filled with shallowness and despair. They will always be used freely thinking that this is not the case and they are actually withholding enough power to abuse others. That is why when I say you and I, I mean us the wolfs and I do not necessarily include geeks aka neurotic nerds. And when you dwell into this new breed of internet species you shall see what I have seen and come to the same conclusions: these social parasites that are most likely cut off from reality and society for a fundamental reason than old time sake social racism or prejudice act like a bunch of revolutionary anarchists and constantly think that their life equals online hence not having life at all. This virtual social agenda is so important that they treat anyone who says otherwise as a life-threat. Simply put it, the net for them is only for them and there is one way of doing right: becoming the official internet hating machine. All business as usual though and no hard feelings. After all, we wolves see the net as just another social experiment where we observe NN communities and fish out potential social threats out of amusement and to witness again all those sad, really sad humans who have probably seen too many times Robin Hood and try to act like one over an insignificant cyberspace. Through scientific observation along with silence and partial provocation, we collect and gather data whilst they are watching us from first hand thinking that they know what we are up against, thinking that they can successfully pull the card from our sleeves. For them this is all a big mindfuck business but for us this is exposure and righteous humility though the means are never public, just for us and our little sick minds. We want justice only because we are forced to want it since there are masses of youth that are potentially vulnerable to them and we care for no youth should be trapped inside this labyrinth and for no youth should be stripped from his or her innocence without his or her condolence. We mean no harm for harm for us is something that we dont do and dont expect others to do on us. Though we will act as a security geschwr [virus] when the masterminds of this sick game act as if they are untouchable over anonymity, as if they are little gods that they can do as they like, as they please because not being globally known means being globally unknown. That is why we think before we type, we are prepared before we are eaten by them eagles. We are one step ahead before the game takes on because most of the cases and most individuals have become predictable and tiresome. Thankfully, there have been many of us to expose this barbaric fiesta. And thankfully, they will be more of us. Unfortunately for them, the internet hunt to expose their cults and freak shows is not over, never will it be. Enough though. Enough about these heathen sloths! Entertaining as they may be or they ought to be, I have want to talk about more serious manners. They say capitalism is dead but I say that it

is hidden. Materialization and industrial waste are all well and good and we wish them to live longer and more hidden behind the gates of anonymity. They are hidden because they are not visible to the eye or more correctly not physical at all but virtual. Spam tags, online logos and electronic social ads have become the new enemy that flush out the long lasting currency of this world. This fake world is simply perfect for us. From that, through that, we want to feel as if we are God in vision, we want to feel as if we are more than just this human coil, we want to believe that we mean something, we just dont die and live, die and live. It is quite inconceivable, it really is. Magnificent, Crackerjack, Maestri! Demigods into something that never really matters because there is no mater there to mean something and yet we go on into unravelling the box of narcissism. One click and we have become the brightest activists the world has ever seen alive. Quite clever I say. For to transform animalistic behaviour to that extend, it takes a cleverly put out system that takes into consideration forthcoming errors and holes in it. Technology never stops just as evolution doesnt. With this technology we are simply unravelling the box of narcissism. That is not all. We are being recreational too. Cyber dolls, mechanical pets, visual online teaching and all the great wonders of technological evolution. There is no end to this parody and no one should state that we never informed them for we are the ones to do so since it is the right thing and what is right it should be said. Geeks, midgets yes we are all of that and more than meets the eye. We stand barefoot and witness our greatest achievements claiming that we have surpassed our own nature which may be as it seems but barely anyone talks about the costs in that process: losing our sanity, our humanity. Sometimes you got to wonder where did we go wrong but that is like saying that we had it right. Sad truth is that we always had it wrong and made small steps to make it right. Das ex machine and the myth still lives on. Is that a doomsday scenario? Is it a false impression of our intelligence that is contained in this crater of mentality? Is this the dawn of supremacy above all planets and organisms? Is this a superlative sacrifice, losing our virtuous nature? Or am I completely wrong, am I your typical madman neighbour; It might be so but in every madness there is some truth to be hold and in some truth there is still some hope and my true beliefs are that we are not hopeless even though sometimes it feels as if we are, as we are dead people walking around even though sometimes it is just like that. Probably indecisive...and who am I to say otherwise? Should you trust someone whose inner belief is to mislead or deceive the public for the outer good? Of course you should trust me. Why else would you read someone if you didnt trust them enough to do so? You see I am bleach and mortal. I am not a peacemaker. I am not a Messiah. I am the biggest liar. And let me talk more about my lies. See it is hard to be funneh and tell a good lie when your heart is beeping for truth to be told. And my truth is that A man without a soul is as good as dead. A man without history is as good as without one. And so before going forwards, look back sometimes and think before you act dont act before you think.

Dont you see where this is going? Dont you see the messages that were systematically repeated? From the lakes of Mesopotamia to the barbaric lands of Kings and Messiahs, from the ancient rituals of Incas to the bloodshed cult of samurais and ninjas, the messages and wise words were always there same, but no one was listening, no one wanted to listen. Did I listen? I did! Cause history is a magnificent abyss. And so is my ego, a manifestation into a language I learned as I was born, that was initially surrounded by not the line of reasoning but rather an askew line of relentless compassion and joy. I try to tell myself that I am trying to be a humanitarian in this shithole and god has blessed me enough shit to keep living for. Other days I am so disconnected that I can blaze all day and watch crimes on TV as if I am watching a comedy show. Either way, I cannot say anymore that I have any guilt, I cant share tears at all because quite frankly my old friend I literally do not see that I am responsible anymore for anything apart for my short fallings. Philosophers are smart creatures as well and they will use all of their rhetoric clustering to position you as someone who holds equal responsibility as the man who sits on top of the rock. It may hold some truth in it but it is so little that it becomes insignificant. The way of doing so is by giving you a hypothetical scenario in which you are predisposed to have some ethical part in it and through randomness you are trapped inside the chase and have to surrender by stating I am guilty your Honour. It is somewhat insignificant because it is trivial and loops through short memory that corrodes with time and while history itself is something so true, so in existence, personal history is so in distortion that the second time you read it responsibility can be easily displaced to someone else for the sake of it. Oh yes how I think highly of this moment; this modern thinking is so-strongly-and-so-deeply, that one change of dates, words and concepts, it results to mass masquerade, massacres and burnings and the I is guilty as the last criminal. My malicious mind tells me that history is sort of like a godly-like papyrus; it is only written once and that once is righteous all the way; it is there to give us consultancy; its a social psychological ink to keep us in the right way; in the way that it was always right. Its like a notorious bunch of butterflies. Who can keep his eyes closed for that? History and philosophy can all call me and you as masses but I share nothing with you apart from breathing the same air. My malicious mind tells me that it is an awakening call; awaken from a coma called a primitive neophyte. You see as we are born, we have this sort of premonition called ill-omen. We are completely clueless of who we are, what we are, why we are what we are, why we are who we are. We are naked, barefoot and mindless. We are guilty of charge for not knowing. And since knowledge has no name, only existence, we should strive to be knowledgeable. Therefore, because we havent thought of something it is easier to be gullible and fall under the trap of historical and philosophical human guilt. We are like junkies; we are like colours erased from a painting; we have this strange politeness to ask more information about our daily dose; we seek and strive to be knowledgeable only when

it is needed to be superior to others and not when it is really needed to be. We all know what is going on in society but we all still have this phobia for it. By sketching out a vaguely figure script of todays society we come at ease with our inner ambition that we know what we know and not what we should know or to know more about what we know. We forget that truth is never told and only can be found and even if it is found it does not make it true. We are like history; we write our own facts and never think about how those facts came to be facts. We are historians; cold, cruel and pseudofactual. Even if someone told us that feminism is a misconception, a modern agenda of anti-masculine uprising, we would accordingly respond that it is succumbed by humanitarian optimism and that is that. We are so historical and at the same time so changeable that our thoughts are like fading away like a morning frosty sunlight that is conscious of its temporal extinction by the change of seasons. Thank the Lord of psychology though! It is indeed something glorious to be aware of something right now as psychology is to me. Pleasing to see how human filth uses the legal system and finds psychological support or better to say uses psychology as a scapegoat to justify his filth. But they say that is how life is, indeed that is how you want life to be. Either way it will take 10,000 years for psychology to understand itself but I am not too sure if we even have 10,000 years to wait. Time will tell my friend, time will tell. For years and years now, shallow one-night stands and cold-blood break ups, I see, I can finally see how everything works and it is such an easy task, one might say effortless. I can even speculate about the rise of feminism that has gradually injected its genes from one generation to the next. It has been so well hidden or intentionally not noticed by the males that you have your male days where you are reminded of this sort of a flashback of alpha-male tyranny when they especially when you see them threatened or about to lose their important role in a relationship. It is like that moment when you hear the sweet melody of a piano, a bland taste poetry and afterwards the gloomy wind knocks on your door to kindly inform us that there was nothing sweet about it, about our bad decision to listen to it. Nah, I am not a misogynist, in fact I love them as much as they hate me. That is why, exactly why knowledge has no name, only existence because it can come from anywhere and from anyone. Though knowledge that you practice is more ideal into an ideal society, it is still something useful to keep on your side for your road up ahead. It is true that knowledge itself is no more useful than knowledge without because at that moment it does fail to pinpoint down what is so good about that knowledge, what is so useful about it, but still you never know what you will be up ahead with. After all, I always rise when I fall. And with more knowledge through experience it should be something funneh to remember and look back into. ***

Fragments of Fiction.

There was once a man that told me that survival of the fittest might seem cruel to us but we have come to accept it as a fact cause acceptance is all there is for us tell our grandchildren and the ones who shall come later. Of course that man was a conceited bastard or so he claimed to me at that time. He thought that there was no need to be blended by his own ignorance, idiocy and attitude and he should remain his calmness when seeking to find what makes his a human, what makes him a common fragment of fiction. He learned that he was an industrial anima whose congruence with the other industrial animas was to manipulate and maltreat his right to be free, allowing him to dominate over other walking species on this planet earth. However, he never confessed to me that he was a beast without an ethos. Certain circumstances made him that way: certain circumstances and certain humans. That is not true at all: for him the system of social interaction was just another ersatz architecture. In a way one might say that he was holding a preset that whatever world lies in front of him it was the exact same world that he believed it was true but just slightly indifferent. For him there were a few exceptions of course. A few great men whom sometimes would be inclined to call them great white men out of sarcasm for he never thought that whiteness has ever had a historical account to call for. A few great men...and all of them had in common one

man; it was the same man that was born to question and to bethink, the same man that his purpose was to interrogate his own daemonic inner self and bequeath it; to procrastinate that fate of his own absence to the world, to procreate his quest in his short livings with the world. The man that was mindlessly indulging into his own right and bathe in his dilemmas. Conversely, it the same man that wrote for the favours of the truth but preached the virtuous life of lies. And that same man wrote. As the thought shifts and turns to find a place for a man to be and so the instinct must arise freely from this guilt, the white man guilt to stand tall and claim his wisdom and authority upon others and other mammals and yet that is not enough that was never enough for his fatal punishment to fight back some acts of violence cause his punishment was to remain the same old man, the same old ego. and even though the ground is always the same, and the green is greener on the other side he must triumph.

He knew that Without rules, we are hopeless. Without justice, we are doomed. and thus anyone who takes life does not have the right to demand it back. that is the ethics into the ground of nowhere; to be the Judge and impose Justice. He also knew that he is not a sinful man. I am not a no sinful man, yet I am not that sinful, I am willing to cross the land, so stop talking and start walking because I am not a sinful man. he must triumph.

We are like sands; our hands are like nerves of sandstorms. there is no disgrace to admit it, only weakness to confess it this is indeed how the rain will drop, always there, always waiting for the right moment. uncanny, unselfishly it will fall on your head and crush your bones oh no one escapes from justice itself.

This is how the warring ego will survive Through guilt and denial Through pray and deception Immortality at its highest declaration Others would say that he was a deeply religious man but in Freudian denial. Maybe it was his long coat that was hanging on his shoulder and that hat that drawn you to think that he was on an old catholic hunt to burn down the witches and vaporize the blood of the heretics. His hair was long of course to match the stereotype; oh how He loved stereotypes and wanted to prove that they still exist with him, through him. I guess he was strange like me and that is why I liked about him: strange humour too. When others would sweep away their tears in graveyards he would be there sitting down smiling and sometimes you could catching smirking away. He would sit down quietly and gently touch the ground, his own holy ground for which once his ancestors would do the same. A kind of odd reminder that he is still human. Everything boils down that any man, each man has another man as his idol. Not really an idol but someone to remind him where he should suppose to go and how he should achieve what he must achieve no matter what.