Now... A few minutes ago I received an email saying my payment for SG had been declined... I have a permanent auto-payment set up, to thank (though that's too much of a personification, if you catch my drift) the website that changed everything. And set me up with THE lady. As in, that lady who I'll be spending the rest of my life with... Seeing the email in my (now seldom used) inbox got my fingers twitching a little. That ol' familiar twitch... I keep thinking about how long it's really been. Since I've even talked to someone outside my family and tight-knit group... I don't really have the energy anymore. To keep up with people. And on top of that, Pandora's Box has been well and truly smashed open.

I don't know what I thought it would be like, but finding a partner is... It doesn't fix everything. In fact, it's even brought up a few new things to try and wrap my head around. The Pandora's Box I was referring to, is one I've constructed over... well... forever. And it explains pretty much everything. And it explaining everything definitely doesn't mean I've gotten my head around it... Shit. I'm trying not to go into that neck of the woods. I'm typing so I'm not going to interrupt myself, but I want to do the action, where you rub your eyes, just in an attempt to stretch your face. Once again, I don't know if I'll come back. At all. I'm not really able for people. I haven't been for well over a year. Maybe it'll never lift (this weird mood, though mood doesn't really do the feeling justice) and the last anyone on SG will hear from me is this blog. What's the term for a pervasive mood that lasts for months at a time? I don't know. Maybe it's the norm from now on. But I can't help feeling that I'm a selfish bastard. Taking up the time of people here, forming friendships, only to leave all of them behind, with nothing but the spectre of an old profile remaining behind to fill in the gap (which I think I've left). If I were able to resume where I left off, I would. But, alas, that ship has sailed...

The Pandora's Box... Hmmm. I don't know how to describe it. Tendencies... Hmmm. I've always leaned toward the darker side of arousal. Let's just leave it at that and allow the reader to draw from it what they will. In reality, outside the realm of fantasy (read speculation), everything is amplified. I thought that when it came to finally having a chance with a lady, these kinks (hehe) would work themselves out and I'd end up pretty much normal. Which isn't the case. The Pandora's Box relates to this. Because of my dark nature, and because I floundered in a sea of unrequited passion for the opposite sex, both of these fermenting together over 21 years of rejection and trying to deal with the harsh realities of life, there exists a box. That her ladyship has smashed open with a crowbar of affection. She's staying, regardless of how dark things get, but it's ugly. An ongoing, ugly battle to understand.

Think of it like this; picture the libido as a nice gently puppy. You come downstairs on Xmas morning, open up the gift-wrapped box with the dog inside (okay, I'll give it airholes) and play with it straight away. Love and laughter ensues, a lovely bond is formed. I never got to open my Xmas package and play with my puppy. He stayed in there, year after year, growing more and more feral, resentful of the outside world. And still, the puppy lay untouched. Barking and howling, growing too big for the tiny box. And I couldn't hear it. Think of how angry such an animal would be after all those years. Mutated and... well... feral. You see my problem... I have a fully grown, feral beast on my hands. Cramped, unused for such a long time. I've to try and teach it table manners. Oh, OH! I thought of the perfect description. Remember the opening scene from Jurassic Park. Where the velociraptor is kept inside the massive metal cage. They're trying to coax it into the bigger enclosure. My lady love is the foolish guard with an itchy trigger finger poised over his (er... her) stun rod. She's tangoing with a monster. I shudder to think of how unstable a person I'd be without my body to keep me in check... No use in speculating though. Wrapped in a nervous/polite/charming shell, to blow my own trumpet. That's basically what's been happening all this time. I'm almost positive that's far too much information, but fuck it. Anyone who remembers my heyday won't be surprised by this fact. I'm the most reserved person in terms of speech, but give me a forum where my voice isn't required and I'll verbalise all the dark corners of what makes me tick. If anything I've gotten more honest. And gotten less tolerant of things I'm supposed to have an interest in. Maybe extreme is the word. And not the surfer-dude bastardisation of extreme, but the real one. I'm a fringe type person. I'm blazing the black metal trail and sleeping to the inhuman shrieks that it brings. Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast. All is well, distant friends. I haven't been doing a lot of things of consequence, so my time here is still fresh in my head. Which is why I can write to you as I once did. I know I'm a voice from the distant past, but... it's not so distant for me. I hope you've been happy all this time, though I doubt very much that's the case. Life would be empty without the dark side of things. Peace out y'all.

Where do I start. Where the fuck do I start on this topic. Despite how much it looks like I'm trying to be sycophantic, I'm not trying anything. Yes, I have lied in the past in order to fit in with somebody else's opinion, and to make it easier for them to like me, but that's not the case now. I think it's called pandering, well that's the word that springs to mind anyway. I probably don't have any right to prattle on about feminism, or the problems faced by women, since I don't really have the... em... relevant 'qualifications'... to warrant an opinion... but I still think I'm entitled to make observations regarding the world I see every day. And having your girlfriend call you a feminist does help matters. This is going to be a tandem rant tying in both my distastes of capitalist culture and of blatant inequality that seems to be going on, in my humble view. And, in this case, I think these two things have developed together, capitalist ideals allowing such things to take place, even fuelling the creation of such things. Such things I'm referring to are cosmetics, specifically make up. I might include fashion in this rant too. The delicate threads of fashion, make up and capitalist ideology all being woven together into a beautiful sheet, which in turn is suffocating womankind. And on top of that, popular media these days seems to have been brought into the fold. Why? Because everyone wants money. Everyone wants to hop on the bandwagon and attain all the wealth they can muster. But why? What are they going to do with all the money? Nothing. Nothing relevant. Buy an 80000 dollar umbrella stand like a disgraced American bank guy did? I'm not sure who it was but I heard a comedian talking about it, so it must be true. It's unnatural. I think it's completely unnatural to feel the urge to use make up, to disguise the true person you are underneath in order to make it easier for the world at large to accept who you are. Or as is important these days, to accept what you look like. Shite, this is going to sound very mean, but it's the only way I can think of explaining it. I'm going to make a few presumptions and generalisations, just so as not to confuse my point. I'm focusing on the primary driving force for men and women, apart from maybe food, the need for companionship. Despite how big a loner and how moody and individualist you might be, deep down, every human needs companionship. Even if it's just for a small amount of time. Humans are animals, they've just learned how to do a few funny tricks. Talking, thinking, music, cheese in a can, Star Trek. A few funny tricks. In my opinion, the best, most effective way of attracting a mate is through natural means. By following the primal, natural animal buried beneath all the funny tricks I've learned. Any games, any additions, any disguises just get in the way. And I think that as humans have invented the modern world they've somehow forgotten, or tried to push away the fact that they're animals. I'm only mentioning religion once, as I don't want to get eternally bogged down in religious arguments. According to the Bible, God gave humans dominion over all the animals. Let's cut through the bullshit of that, first of all. Humans are no better than animals, and people who think they're above such wretched, dirty beasts really have to shift their point of view. Despite all the shaving, cleaning, sometimes incessant grooming, people are still animals. And I really think that capitalist culture, of which we're now all a part (unfortunately), has deluded the majority of people into thinking they're better than that. Because animals don't walk and talk, animals don't have two cars, a holiday home and clothes. Animals are dirty things that live on farms or in the woods and aren't capable of intelligence. I think society has tried to convince, and succeeded in doing so, people that if you don't buy their latest products, don't remove every strand of unsightly body hair they're nothing more than a mere beast. And nobody wants to be seen as being below their peers. So you buy into it. You start reasoning that this body hair shouldn't be there and must be removed. What will people think if they catch sight of the fact that I'm actually an animal? Maybe they'll revoke my iPhone or my expensive handbag. And now I'm getting to my point. These models of how a person should act, applied far more to women than to men, were established long ago, before feminism was a blip on the horizon, and became an integrated part of society. And they've only evolved as time has gone on, egged on by the incessant drum beat of capitalist optimism. Ads that promise happiness, acceptance, the social group full of committed friends who can help you through the battlefield that is life, and only for $29.95 a month*. Postage not included. If you just fit in, succumb to the pressure to buy anti-aging cream and slim down for the party season, then the great capitalist god, who I call Consumor, jokingly, will reward you with all the things you need to convince yourself you're not an animal. Animals have hair on their legs and under their arms, so that means I won't be seen as one of them. But without the patriarchal economic model there wouldn't be any pressure. Greed is good, as Michael Douglas said. I think the male penchant for increased aggression is the driving force behind such a statement (I know it's a film, I'm not thick, but I think it accurately describes the nature of the economy). And in order to attain more and more wealth, to feed that need for something, the missing thing that seems to drive the vast majority of men, a new product is brought out. And nine times out of ten, this new product further reinforces one of the “roles” that all people “should” conveniently slot into. The social dynamo, life of the party, a one-dimensional, eternally-happy person, who's sole purpose is to facilitate other people and put up an iron clad front. Okay, I am a grumpy, anti-social bastard, but that has very little to do with the point I'm making. Back on topic now. I think make up and other mainstream cosmetics are the largest, if not one of the largest, areas that have been invented and developed by these greedy arseholes in order to fill the void that causes such ruthless aggression. And once the majority of people sign this social contract, I'm imagining a fountain pen drawing blood and the pen being used to sign a piece of ancient manuscript, it becomes accepted. And those who don't abide by this contract, signed in your own blood, aren't accepted, or aren't allowed into the club. What club? The club of people who think they're anything more than animals? The people who are convinced that the way forward is through falsifying your looks, through using naked make up (I've heard it called that) to fool the club members into thinking that your skin is artificially unblemished, since imperfections are unacceptable. And the kicker, here's the real fun bit, the really tasty, juicy morsel that fills your mouth with the taste of sour, acidic fury; the make up costs a fortune. So in the pursuit of acceptance, the wallets of these capitalist tycoons are lined. How convenient. It's almost as if the two are linked isn't it? As a woman, if you don't fit into this role, of removing any extraneous body hair, of buying the latest chemical shite that's advertised as the cure to aging, of coating every visible surface in an impeccable, unblemished sheen, then life can be made very difficult. And if life is difficult then that makes everything else resonate that bit more inside your head. It makes the things that might be missing feel that much further away. So while these “mighty”, superior men in their indestructable ivory towers are laughing maniacally like Batman villians, the majority rules and succeeds in convincing people that without these products they're incomplete, and all to make money. Because that's all it's for. There's no other hidden benevolent force at work, it's just a means to an end. But that's wrong. It's so wrong to prey on the need that people have deep within to belong to a social group, to have companionship if only for a moment. And for profit. Since that's what it comes down to. These fields are being extended to men now, but that's another matter entirely. I wrote this one aaaaages ago, but I didn't feel up to posting it until now. The lady does make these things easier to post.

It's like in one of those old cartoons. When the character, in a feeble attempt to avert an imminent flood, shoves a cork into the tap in order to stop the water coming out. The metal starts to deform and balloon like a strip of thin elastic rubber, before, inevitably it bursts and fills the house up in an instant, breaking open the door, spraying out the windows. Or, I hope it's not like that, actually. Since I'll be the one doing the bursting. And the bursting will refer to my brain. And I don't really want my brain to burst, before I can make or create anything of any significance. The water, in this analogy, is my creativity. And the tap, albeit the completely malfunctioning one, serves as my creative tools. Or the shelf of my creative tools. The body, if you will. But wait... In my original analogy the tap bursting symbolised my brain bursting. Okay, an ordinary, real tap is my physical body and the one in the cartoon, the completely unrealistic, ballooning out one is my mental, non-physical body. They're both technically the same tap, but one exists outside reality and one exists. Detracting from my own point, yes. The cork is in. And, sometimes, I fear it'll always be there. For as long as I can remember, the flood has been trying to happen. But the water just keeps building up. Maybe it's the fact that my tap is so corroded, compared to other people. I'm not using that as an excuse, but I think I have a legitimate claim to bring it up. Mostly because I don't think it's helped matters. First, let's talk about the brain. Or the division of the brain. Between left and right. Trying to think logically about how to go about creating artistic things, really defeats the purpose of being creatively passionate. Those sides are supposed to be mutually exclusive, but, alas, I can't work like that. Me. I'm not talking about disabled people in general, as there are rather a lot of disabled artists. I don't really have the energy to think logically about how I'm going to create something. I can do one or the other, but the necessity of having to work out how to facilitate the creative process is too much... Is that the cork? Nah, that'd be far too easy. But water building up like that does tend to have it's stresses on the tap, both physical and non-physical. Maybe my cartoon one's completely inflated, like a bladder after 10 pints without a piss... I'm trying to say what I think from now on. The first analogy that springs to mind, instead of the next, more socially acceptable analogy. Sometimes it feels that way. I envy people who don't have to pass an initial test in order to unleash their creative water. They can just let it all spray and flow all over the canvas or the sketchpad, the digital CCD or actual photographic film, without having to wonder how to set things up to make that possible. Hold the camera up to properly catch the sunlight that illuminates your chosen subject. You don't really have to set it up, just intuite the proper set up (if you're artistic enough) and orient yourself to do it. It's annoying. Having to think around it. That often drains all the energy that might have gone to removing the cork. Am I making any sense? No I don't much think I am...The energy and enthusiasm that I muster up to tackle the problem of not being all that creative, always seems to be squandered on the lead up to it, and never on the creativity itself. A few exceptions, mostly all of which have been for my lady (we've talked it through and she's okay with that title), but nowhere near as much as I'd like to have under my belt. I'm not really complaining (but I really, really am), but it's an idea I've been unable to shake off recently... That's why I felt the urge to write this meandering thing...

I've started watching Six Feet Under. I don't know why it took me so long to start, as it seems to be right up my alley, but so far it's better than I thought it would be. Something about death is just unbelievably fascinating... And that's with an atheist viewpoint, one of becoming worm food afterwards. However, this is a television program. And death is only really a side/after-thought. Well it's technically a primary plot point, but it's dealt with only briefly, as it tends to follow living characters most of the time. And, in typical HBO fashion, it's brilliantly interesting. Just the right dose of freaky weirdos trying not to fit in. Which is somebody I'd like to be one day, if I can shed this skin of caring about what people think... Well, by that I mean people I don't like or know. The unimportant type of people. I could dance around it a bit more (figuratively, of course), but what's the point. I don't like a lot of people. For whatever reason. Until I know them, I suppose. Maybe it's the sheer amount of differences that have marred my personability with other people. Or the fact that I'm grumpy. Maybe I don't really not like people. Maybe it's just that people are intricately tied into things I don't like, so the not-liking (since hatred is a bit extreme) follows logically...I really like Six Feet Under, mainly because of how deadpan it is. Pun intended. The intro for instance is absolutely hilarious (most of the time). Horrible, yes, but funny. You can't help but stifle a chuckle (except for the particularly shitty deaths), at how terribly and unfairly peoples' lives tend to end. Perhaps it's the dark shadow of melancholy and grumpy air, the same that influences my music (evil laugh from Track 2 (Loke) off the Enslaved album, Frost. Skip forward to 4:00 if you don't like black metal vocals, to hear the evil laugh), that makes it so fascinating. How life can be so fleeting. Or something that doesn't sound melodramatic.



I think I need to start taking arsehole lessons. Because, to a certain extent, confidence requires the user to be kind of rude and stand-offish. The people who strike you as confident always tend to have a little edge to how they talk about people. Or to people. Or how they even talk about things they're passionate about. I'm not confident, when it comes to doing things outside typing. My physical presence tends to be somewhat diminished, compared to my typing self. But that's not really relevant. That's why I've been trying to express my opinion a little more coherently than I have in the past. Believe it or not, I think that type of anger helps. Helps one, me in this case, to develop a complex web of actual opinion... I'm rather angry about certain things (religion, some aspects of music, most MILITARY ACTION) and because of that, I tend to be more interested in forming an opinion about those subjects. Sure, it does lead me to develop a somewhat one-sided opinion, but the other side, the one I don't necessarily agree with, can wait until a later date... Or, if I'm feeling lazy, not at all. Maybe one day I'll compile all those arguments into something digestable. All my opinions on religion, music, people, death and 'life', which is rarely good... Manifesto (I'm borrowing from Marx, though the word has been used for many, many other things) is a bit strong, but meh... Melodrama seems to be a common theme with society these days...

Consider this part of a rebalancing act. A new plateau, or something like that. Up on a few topics, down on some other ones. Alright, I'll do new music. I get black metal now. Before this whole thing (whatever 'thing' refers to...) I kind of put up with the extreme vocals without really understanding the need for it. And I figured a way aound not being able to understand it. Now, if I want to listen to a black metal album, I read the accompanying lyrics at the same time. Because without understanding the music, how are you supposed to fully experience the depths of melancholy and general distastefulness? Where's the sense of doom and dread, of fear and sadness that it's supposed to bring out. The music's only on half of it. Well, it's probably the bigger half (which means it's technically not a half). Something about a voice that sounds like it can strip paint really fits in with the mood that accompanies wanting to listen to black metal. People seem to think that liking music you can't grin while listening to and being nice are mutually exclusive qualities. And to be quite honest, I don't really care. But see, here's the thing. I don't really know whether people think like that or not. Or are thinking like that. Isn't that a bit weird? But it's what I think that other people must be thinking, mainly from their attitudes. But that's only a tiny bit. Nobody's ever come out and said that the music I listen to is shite (apart from my sister). This is just my insight into what they might be thinking beneath their passive facade. But maybe their passive facade isn't really a facade? Maybe that's what they feel like the whole time. Just in a delirious state of happiness the whole time... Maybe I think other people have a facade because of the fact that I do. Maybe beneath the glossy exterior is a glossy interior. How fucking funny would that be. Constructing all these elaborate theories about what people are really thinking, when really there's nothing to theorise about. Maybe it's the way I'm wired. Because if I didn't come up with this shit then how would I weave my web of thoughts on how capitalist society is eating away at the essential misery that everyone's supposed to have buried in their heads. As the bastards at Vodafone said this Xmas: 'Give someone the gift of happiness this year'. The gift of happiness. Are you fucking serious. I think that emphasises my point exactly.

Money, money, money, money, money. The cure to all the ails and ills of everyone. Yes, everyone wants to be rid of the dark, dreary, depressing demons that just seem to add an edge to stuff when you really don't want it to. But you can't get rid of it. Okay, some people don't seem to hear it as much as other people, but I'm convinced that it's embedded inside everyone. Why else would so many musicians focus on how miserable life is. Money and consumerism offer the way out. The way of finally shrugging off the gnawing voice and ridding yourself of all the negative things. But it doesn't work, now does it. If it did then we'd surely be living in a crime free utopia where people aren't greedy and don't feel the need to hoard as much useless crap as they can. If it really did kill the clawing monkey, then why would people still want more. Surely they'd be the most generous person in existence, because their soul is pure and they have no malice, no drive to place themselves in a higher position than somebody else. But it does the exact opposite. Enron anyone? Sale of indulgences? You get my drift. Selling redemption, securing a place in heaven, all for just a few coins. Or a lot of coins. Or your entire life savings. But nowadays, when people aren't as religious as they once were, there's a new, secular variation. It's not a place in heaven, but the chance to be above the dark part of the human psyche. As if humans are any better than animals.With evolution, you don't just toss the old parts of the brain, they're still there, just hidden under some funny parlour tricks. Like talking, that type of thing. You think you can be out of reach of the ancient part of your brain that wants to disembowel any person who looks at you funny? Obviously it'd take a hell of a lot to bring that bit up to the surface, but it is still there. It might be far smaller and far more hidden than it was 250,000 years ago, but just because humans have pride doesn't mean they're anything other than tamed savages. I don't like the way the Bible says that people have been given 'dominion over animals'. It reinforces the idea that humans *engage uppity accent* couldn't POSSIBLY be in the same class as those filthy, disgusting brutes. Actually, this is another argument altogether. This is one side of the 'why people are arseholes' coin. Though I don't know... In certain ways humans are far, far, far beyond animals. As seen by how emotionally disturbed some people can be. Feeling physical pain from things that are purely a product of your mind. Things your brain have fabricated from nothing. Poetry, music, writing in general. All from nothing. Well nothing that's quantifiable at the minute anyway. With those things called emotions, every person is laden down with a dark side they can't get rid of. And, to be totally honest, not having it would be weird. I don't think people are complete. Finished evolving. All the twisted sides that people seem to have to their personalities, all the misery and depression that's still rampant. Because the ancient, uncontrollable parts of the brain haven't been fully integrated. Ever so gently, the square shape is being sanded down to fit properly into the circular hole, but that's still a long way away. Maybe when the planet's doomed to an icy death, after the banks are bailed out for the 20th time, after people finally punish the CEO's of all the Fortune 500 companies for being greedy, over-zealous bastards, when cancer becomes an anecdotal inconvenience and people finally realise how pretentious Apple products are...... You know the way people who are deliriously happy the whole time just piss you off? That's someone who's pretending they've beaten the beast. I bet people like that are the most twisted of all. They get some masochistic thrill from putting themselves through the torture of keeping it all inside, then act like psychos in the safety of solitude. Debauched psychos. One particular example springs to mind............... Five seconds pause to guess where that was aimed. Catholic church, for the one's who didn't cop that. Do NOT get me started on that. They thought they were above the all-encompassing dark shadow. Beyond reproach. Okay, not everyone, but a ridiculously huge amount of priests. Since I last wrote a blog my atheism has shot up several gears. Or the drive to not try and hide it, I should say. To exorcise the truth from the bones of the me who tried at religion. The wailing ghost who's screams haunt every person who hears them. One whisper of it reaches your ears and the ancient voices of the animals you've evolved from scream in your head, chewing up and dissolving the rational, sane person you once were. Or some such shite. Spouting crap like that at random is what black metal's all about. As of the past month or so I've been on a massive Bathory kick. Not so much their earlier black metal, more their later viking days. See, this started out as a music blog, but I got side-tracked. Sound familiar? Yup, same old. 'cept I might post this to FB too... Aim the hateful explosion at more innocent bystanders...

Okay, this won't be up to the standard I've set for myself up until now, but fuck it, I'm beyond caring. Meh. I'm not going to say I'm back as that has backfired in the past. I'm not making any absolute declarations anymore as after I make them I always end up reneging on them. So yes, I'm sort of back. Sort of. A bit. For now. Maybe. I'm saying right now, that up until now I've been a pushover, but I'm kind of sick of fitting into that role. Being a supporting character in my own life... If you get what I mean. I'm rather angrier than I was the last time I was online. Caustically sarcastic too. I actually have opinions, is what I'm saying. Outwardly angrier, I mean. Which is a good thing, as it takes the pressure off the inwardly angry side of things. I'm projecting some of the unconscious aggression I've kept bottled up, onto the world around me, and coming away with the type of confidence that other people take for granted. I do enjoy the occasional rant on any of the below topics.

Things I now like: socialism, feminism, war history, body hair.

Things I now don't like/really disagree with: religion, capitalism, war, fake people, make up, Israeli military policy.

Now. This may result in friends list culling, but meh. That's what happens when people disagree on topics. I'm not going to change what I believe in to fit in with what other people believe in anymore. I've also become more devoted to the type of music I enjoy. Hehe, not a trace of acceptance anymore If it doesn't sound like it's grating along the inside of your skull, or is lyrically reminiscent of HP Lovecraft, then I probably won't like it. Note how I said probably. I have a lot of exceptions. Probably surprising exceptions. And I'm still very much in love with my girlfriend. I visited her again and we were still the exact same with one another. As if the 6 months of being apart hadn't happened. Well it happened, but our attitudes to one another were the same. About a minute or two of awkwardness, but it all came flooding back. Toodle-oo for now.

Now, *cracks knuckles in a frighteningly arrogant fashion*, let's give this another shot. Things have been happening. A lot of things. And to me. Where did I last leave off... Hmmm... I'm not sure, and I couldn't be arsed to read my own blog again. Plus, I think it's easier to just rethink everything from the base level. If that makes any sense. Where the fuck do I start... For a long time, my plans have been to visit England, of my own accord, to finally break out and establish a modicum of personal independence. Originally, I had intended to visit London, and, if I could work up the nerve, to possibly meet some new people who I could call friend. I've been to England, and now I'm back again! Over the past few months, I haven't faired very well. Needless to say, the offending medications didn't cease their interference as promptly as I would have hoped. Like Alice falling into the rabbit hole, except instead of Alice it's me and instead of a rabbit hole it's a (we don't have them over here, so I'll use the American terminology) garbage disposal. I shall say no more, other than that, for I hope to defeat my own reputation as a spurious rambler. I've maintained contact with a few people, through various alternative means, as the internet became a source of great turmoil for me. I focused heavily on writing letters, and with one friend, who I met almost a year ago, we both have habits of sending ridiculously huge ones, sometimes taking months to write. Mostly, this is for cathartic purposes, so, in that way, writing them can sometimes dredge up dark things that would otherwise have remained hidden. During the writing of this particular letter, a lot of issues from both child and early adulthood came to light, and the letter evolved into a tome, the likes of which could never be repeated, haha.When this letter was finally sent, and later received, the nature of my trip to England shifted gear. I established my plans to visit England in April, set to stay in Harrow for 8 days in mid-July, but the angle of approach had now changed. While I was setting this up, my ideas shifted considerably as to the nature of my trip. With a change in my thought patterns, the agorophobic leanings I have multiplied, and I deemed the original trip an impossible absurdity. It changed, and now the emphasis was on one person, well, technically two, instead of my naive ideas of becoming the social dynamo I've never been. And, it just so happens, that the friend to whom my oh-so-personal correspondence was delivered also lived in Northwest London. The two months leading up to the trip were torture. A haze of anticipation, fear and various other ups and downs. When the 13th of July came around, I wasn't as nervous as I thought I would be on the day. Had to get up at half six, but I still kept a level head, and for the first time ever... I wasn't nervous. I should have been. Heading to another country to spend time with someone I'd sent letters to, spoken with through MSN and, later, by phone. The big event was the following day, after one day to get used to my new surroundings. Though the journey over was easy enough, the finality of the meetup hit me like a tabasco enema. That night was hell. When it comes to nerves, the worst thing is to be by yourself, with the full arsenal of self doubt and imagination. But I went through with it. I came back on the 21st after the greatest week of my life, the majority of which shan't be revealed. And when I came back, I no longer had a friend, but a girlfriend. Who I spent every day in England with. And I mean every day. Sometimes up to twelve hours at a time. It gradually evolved over the course of my stay. In each other's company we started holding hands as a mere friendly gesture. And on my 5th day there I shared a first kiss with the most beautiful woman in existence. And several more subsequent ones before I returned home again. Okay... first thing. Despite what the traditional male stereotype might lead you to believe, sex has never been a real priority for me. Yes, it did lead the charge on a good bit of my depression, but as an actual thing, I've never really sought it out. Yeah, okay, that sounds a bit confusing, but I think it makes sense... While sex, or lack thereof, was a huge factor in my darker moods, the thought of it was far too immense to consider a real possibility. For a whole host of complicated reasons that I'm not even sure of. And now, would you believe, I, the self-proclaimed crankiest, most-jealous bastard in all existence... has a girlfriend. I said ages ago that if I ever achieved happiness, I wouldn't flaunt it, so I won't. I will, however, explain a bit about her. I met her on this here site! I met my girlfriend on a fucking porn site. A tale for the ages, to be sure. I didn't really want to embarrass her, but, fuck it, she's English (obviously), she's a huge fan of my exact types of music, even down to individual bands and albums. She has ridiculously long hair; I love long hair. She's covered in tattoos; I love tattoos. And, the best of all, she takes charge (in every aspect). I have a thing for powerful women, so she even fits that bill too! If I don't want to go out, if I'm nervous or panicking over anything, she'll fucking make me do it. She gives me the kick in the backside that I sorely need, when I need it. She made me follow her into an old hospital when normally I'd never have gone. She has this unique thing of making me want to do things. The antidote to my inclinations of staying in my room. And did I mention? She's fucking gorgeous too. Small and dainty, but fucking strong (hehe), with a thing for purple and a brain just as devious as my own. Her brain works the same as mine. Separately, we've both come to conclusions and deduced things that are identical. Her brain is fucking gorgeous too, is essentially what I'm saying. It's very hard to try and explain it... We went on the London Eye together and held hands while wondering what would happen if there was a natural disaster, or if a boat sank (I pointed out the bridge from 28 Days Later). She's perfect, in a manner of speaking. But. There's always a fucking but, isn't there. Here's the kicker. You didn't think all this came without a catch, did you? I have to wait an entire year before seeing her again. An entire fucking year. Until she finishes her degree. Leaving her on that last day was nearly impossible. The most difficult fucking thing I've ever done. One last, probably socially unsuitable, kiss and she left. I'm counting the days until next June, when I visit her again. So, in a way, it's both a good and a bad thing. Two sides of the kharmic coin. I've now read Flowers for Algernon, so I can make this analogy. I was in the dark until that 8 day trip. During it, the sun burst through the clouds and the whole world was bathed in light, an otherwise mundane existence brightened with a supernovic flash. And I'm back in the dark once more. But it's not as dark. There's a tiny, nearly imperceptible light illuminating the entire world, and it's gradually increasing as the next trip comes closer. Tiny, little steps until she brightens me again. And, the most important thing. She feels the exact same way. As much as I'll miss her, she'll miss me. It's not something I've read too far into and woven an intricate tapestry around, she feels the same way. While under her wing, I got myself my first tattoo. I wanted it the entire time, but only with her resolve did I manage to go through with it. It looks twice as brilliant as I hoped it would. And with far less pain that I feared. She's the Bruce Campbell to my Evil Dead. Essential, needed, fucked up and willing to hack the limbs off people for entertainment... Wait......

Alright, I wussed out and am writing this almost two weeks after that bit, hehe. Which happens ridiculously often... The wait might not be until next June, so here's hoping that January's open I think I'll post this tomorrow... Nah, fuck it, I'll do it now.

These past months, I've changed. In my absence, I've realised a lot of things, drawn a lot of conclusions and felt a lot of pain. I'm not the same person now. The music is darker, darkest black. My moods are deep, my feelings genuine, the darker side of life my new domain. I've begun several new hobbies, some of which may seem pointless. Origami, rope-tying, sewing. They give me time to think. Time to busy my physical self and reflect on my thoughts, the unilluminated caverns of my mind.

''Twilight possesses, the heart of your soul. The starlight is fading to black... to the Demon's Gate.''

Regardless of how my family feels, society at large feels, the capitalist machine tries to tell me to feel; I'm a dark person. My mind is filled with thoughts I've been convinced are wrong. Life is not all sunshine and buttercups. Life is nothing if not diverse. I reside within the blood-ridden, contemplative darkness, for most of my existence. But since when does that have to define me? It doesn't. I can reside within the darkness of existence, and still appreciate life. I AM respectful, even if my thoughts don't conform to the social norm. And since when does society have the authority to lay out the blueprint for what I am? As far as I can see, society is completely biased. Despite the feminist movement, women are still treated, by the media at large, as being defined by the clothes they wear, and how much make-up is needed to make them presentable. And this is the society I tried to break into? Why? Since its believed by so many, I tried, desperately, to break into it. To censor my own thoughts, and become one of the masses. But no. I'm not part of it. Some people will probably call me a woman for finding enjoyment in sewing, but fuck you, if you think that way. For true equality, such primitive notions of tasks assigned by gender need to burn. Burn in the furnace of every person's individual mind. My sexual proclivities have nothing to do with the love and fairness with which I treat all women. I've been blinded by guilt and regret in the past, over my thoughts, and how I feared they reflected on my genetically inherited seat in the patriarchy. Desire need not affect any part of my emotional state. The two needn't be connected, or even related, necessarily. I know, within myself, that I treat women with nothing but respect and love, despite how I might sate my sexual frustration and loneliness. The reason I left the site for so long is because I was jealous. I was seeing, daily, what I long for, more than anything in the world. I had to leave. I was jealous in an emotional way. I cried myself to sleep while reflecting on how much I was missing out on. Not just the realm of sexual conquest, with which I have no experience, but of love. Everlasting happiness, with a person you can be truly honest with. I hope those of you who read this can understand what I mean.

''Nothing is true, everything is permitted.''

If you think computer games can't be an artform... take a wild guess... fuck you! Transformation. Through pain and blood I've been transformed. I don't know where my transformation will end, but a dear, dear friend has helped me through it. I won't mention her by name, but she knows who she is. She is the Night-Wolf, and our correspondence has reminded me that I'm not half as bad as I think I am. My darkest thoughts are not only shared, but understood. I'm in a rare position, to know the intricacies of my own thoughts and those of another person. To have the chance to ask the questions I'm not supposed to (under the gaze of you, oh all-seeing biased society) ask. About femininity and the various forms in which respect can exist. And my desires need not marr the underlying respect that I have. Its an ongoing process.

''Accompanied only by the full moon
The howling of a night wolf''

''I am not a man. I began as one, but now I am becoming more than a man, as you will witness.''

I'm visiting London around mid-July, to meet up with my best friend. Add physical contact to the relationship we've built via transmissive photons and old-school pen and paper. I'm getting the boat to Holyhead and driving through Wales to stay at a hotel in London. 8 or 9 day round trip. I hope to get my social life on this site back up and running, and reacquaint myself with the friends I have left.

A last minute addition: Dio, You shall be greatly missed. A true metal god. Your memory will always be alive through music.

What can I say. Things are looking up for me! Slowly but surely. One of the first people I met on this site has really become a great friend to me. When it comes to friendships, I'm not gonna lie, I'm not the easiest to be around. I suppose I tend to rely on people too hard, without realising it. Its one thing to make good friends, but another thing to alienate them. As I've found, this person is un-alienate-able. As a result, I've come to terms with a few things I've found irreconcilable up until now. Things I couldn't admit to myself, let alone to another person; but, for some reason, actually forming it in your head, and even going as far as to realise it, in the form of the written word, does a lot of good. I suppose, in a way, its cathartic. To confront inner demons that you long ago labelled as off-limits. I suppose the main thing is finding out that things you thought were impossible for anyone else to possibly understand or comprehend; aren't as bad as you first thought. Not quite as outlandish or messed up as you first thought. Refreshing to have things turned around. In a world where acceptance never seems to come around, its nice to find somebody of a similar persuasion; who gets the way your mind works. Vindication of thought processes that seem to be completely absent from everyday reality. The popular reality, I mean; the one I appear to be so disgruntled with. The one I've never really been able to find a place in. Letters, have become a big part of my life now. My ideas for them seem to be bordering on the infinite, and its definitely a creative outlet, one which I've never had before. For some reason, whenever my mood improves, my brain cleans itself out. Kind of like a defragmentation of my internal hard drive... If that makes sense. While SG Chat still remains a slight source of disgruntlement, I intend on returning at some stage. While feeling uncomfortable hearing about the happy love lives of people, is too difficult to take sometimes, there are a lot of people there I enjoy talking to; and I can't give them up! Much love, all you faithful blog readers! All is well

Haha, this is on my phone and I'm emailing it, so excuse the grammatical errors from format issues etc.

Hello dear friends of the interwebular variety. It has been rather a while since my last real blog, and I've not been online much lately, so I'm going to use this sleepless night as something of an update session. Firstly, I've decided to cut back on my sg usage. I found that staying on the site too much wasn't making me feel too good. As selfish as it may sound, hearing successful stories of happy people, in loving relationships, even marriages, was too much for me to bear. It was really starting to drag me down, further than I'd normally go. Success in love, or even sex, is a completely alien prospect to me, so the sudden overflow of it really sent me reeling. I was content with convincing myself that the majority of people were as lonely as I sometimes am, but reality seems to lean in quite the opposite direction. This isn't one of 'those' blogs. You know the type I mean

It's sort of like a, carbon based, human being getting attacked by a silicon based virus... I wasn't able to get my head around the difference between my cynical view and the reality; that most people ARE happy. Most people don't concern themselves with notions of death or deep philosophical questions, like I do, frequently, they go about their lives. They meet someone they love and have a moderately happy life together. Ups and downs, of course, but most people share their lives with someone. Alas, such luck has evaded my sensor sweeps so far. (now you know some of the reason why, haha )

I haven't found it, or anything resembling it, so when I saw so many people who have... well... I didn't take it very well... So I left this here site for a while. I've been unable to spend my days in chat, as it can be a painful place, given the reasons I mentioned above. People are well within their rights to be happy, and showcase that joy and elation as they wish, I'm not criticising. I just decided to vacate the area for those such occasions, as it merely serves as salt in an ever-present wound. A wound I fear will never heal. I've been trying to get back into my chatting ways, but it's a slow process. The wound is ever-changing and I'm sometimes immune to its bitter sting, but mostly I'm still too upset and sensitive to try and face my life in the harsh light of day. I can't help but compare my life to the lives of my peers, and notice the huge discrepancies. Maybe I'm out of touch with my generation, I'm not sure, but... I was heading to a dark place, quicker due to my, well I suppose, to be brutally honest, jealousy, that's about the only word for it. For me that conjures up an image of a Cthulhu-esque, green-eyed behemoth, prowling the lands searching for happy people, and spreading hatred and disdain for 'the happy folk', but I don't mean it like that. Closer to a sad, solemn jealousy. One where there's no escape route from.

I hope that begins to explain why I've been so absent as of late. I've been in a funk for about a month now. On and off. Mostly on, or in... I'm mixing up my metaphors...... Final Fantasy XIII has provided me well. A much needed escape from the harshness of reality, for a short while anyway. Tis no box of chocolates. Sometimes its like a box of turds, and you don't get anything but shit. Mostly it's just somewhere between those two...

I think I've nailed down my place on the musical... wait for it... 'scale' (HAHAHAHA)...... for good. I've found my definite likes and dislikes, my musical taste. Dark, heavy and loud. And that's the way I likes it. I branch into classical and classic rock but mostly its genres such as grunge, heavy, black and doom metals, and a spattering of random miscellany, such as the Stand By Me soundtrack. I miss all you guys loads, so hopefully I'll be back soon. Up and running, as it were.

(P.S. I've begun counselling, as I vowed to a few months ago. I'm two sessions in, and I think it's going well. Difficult, as to be expected. Sort of like an acceptance process. She seems to understand what I've been experiencing, the urgency and the pressure. I'm thinking of it as a step in the right direction.)

*under deconstruction*