«Life», existence in the twenty-first century

  «When you grow up, your heart dies» - Ally Sheedy, The Breakfast Club.

  I've mentioned earlier the survey where children using the Torrance Test of Creative Thinking were shown to become less creative the older they get. I can attest to that and more.

  My childhood is very clear to me. I can easily recall events and see patterns of development.

  My friends then were pretty okay for a long time, but then, as they became adolescents and adults I noticed distinct changes. It wasn't just that they became less imaginative, but also that they were less prone to be critical and open, and less the great, exciting creatures they once had been. And they turned less friendly towards those breaking free from the mold. Modern existence… got to them. It got to me, too, I know that, but not to the same extent. We drifted apart, and I have hardly any contact at all with them anymore, and worse: every time I meet them, they look at me as if I am a leper or something, as if there is something wrong with me. I've learned well to recognize that look behind the polite exterior. There is nothing there anymore, no spark, only the force-fed information, the propaganda of that before mentioned modern society.

  Like most people they have become functions of expediency and practicality and hardly anything more. I shudder in horror.

  No horror film has ever scared me much and the reason is clear: we exist in one, one much scarier than any fiction.

  Something needs fixing and it is not children.

  «Dreams can’t die, but they belong to the night» - Amos Keppler, Dreams Belong to the Night.

A bubble in the world

  We rested in bed afterwards, making out at a slow, languished pace, enjoying each other’s skin and touch. The night almost turned into morning before we fell asleep. Days and nights flew away, until we were forced to leave the real world and return to the fake and ugly.

  Sis and I began dressing the same. We aren't twins, but are born in the same year and attended the same class, so it became quite visible. We dyed what was blond and brown hair black. By using the same makeup we very much resembled identical twins. And we stayed together more. A lot was implied by our behavior, even though we weren't obvious about it. We were very aware of how what society and the public would do if the truth was revealed.

  I've always been quite fond of the nonverbal method, at least to a point. We revealed it without revealing it, and we turned our proud face at the world, and the world disliked a lot. Today’s society doesn't appreciate pride in general and when pride comes from breaking one of the most extreme taboos there is the world becomes seriously pissed. We thought we were prepared, but our optimism was quickly exposed as the ivory tower it was.

  Time passed and even if there were lots of ugly stares and bullying we dealt with it with a superior arrogance. Those judging us didn't know for sure, but the suspicion alone was sufficient in their eyes. That is often so. We hadn't been bullied before, but now we were. Tove called it «our new Era. To us that new era had a beyond positive connotations, because we were together. The bad and downright ugly stuff didn't really matter that much compared to that.

  People have, completely serious told us that we are at fault, that we are to blame, and that we can’t expect being treated differently when we «behave the way we do». In our darkest moments we agree with them. That’s the true horror of bullying. It makes its victims question their very core. We know intellectually that those being treated badly aren't responsible for people’s cruelty, prejudice and intolerance. We know that stupid laws and silly morality gaining support long before we were born have or should have nothing to do with us. But doubt haunts us. We are, like everybody else a product of the society we grew up in, and shame has been beaten into us from an early age.

  We left our home and hometown as soon as we possibly could, and moved to the big city and student life. We did so willingly, «voluntarily» because we were finally fed up, but in truth we couldn't have kept it going for much longer. Now, we hardly hide ourselves at all and enjoy that immensely.

  We live in sin and incest and it feels great beyond words.

Stop shop - the world

  In November four Norwegian women made public an idea, an intended effort.

  «We’re sick and tired of being slaves of the fashion industry».

  Their aim is to not buy new clothes (in Norwegian) for a year, unless they’re absolutely necessary.

  All such initiatives are worth applauding and supporting.

  Buying new clothes only because those a month old are perceived as outdated is truly one of the more insane acts in this world.

  Say no to the consumer society. Say it loud and clear.

The dismal quality of the Young Adult genre

  I don’t enjoy any genre as a rule, but Young Adult is truly raising my ire.

  Mixed with Romance, as it often is (the two are joined at the hip) it becomes an absolutely horrible experience.

  How anyone can enjoy this crap is beyond me.

  It is teenager’s life diluted, clouded by a thousands filters of censorship and misdirection, totally empty of reason and passion both.

  There is no sex, no violence, except off camera and nothing even resembling real life.

  I read LJ Smith when I was ten and couldn't (still can’t) believe the genre she practically started has become so popular. I must «confess» I've never more than browsed Stephanie Meyer’s books, but I read more than enough to form an opinion and it’s worse than its reputation. I forced myself to read Dark Flame by Alyson Noel, just to see if it ever amounted to anything.

  It never did.

  That was supposed to be her darkest story? Ridiculous! If she wrote for Christian grandmothers perhaps (perhaps she does).

  To my fellow young adults enjoying or pretending to enjoy this shit I have only one thing to say: up yours!

  In a world where stale and unexciting storytelling is dominant, this genre is truly the bottom of the barrel.

  I want to read and enjoy completely different stories. This quote from a review I agree wholeheartedly with:

  "ShadowWalk is a powerful tale of magick and empowerment which manages not to sound like a mind-body-spirit-self-obsessed-hippie book. This is full-on reality. Blood and sweat and shit - nothing's toned down or dulled. The intensity of life comes through strong and meaty. Real life bursting off the pages".

  Review in Green Anarchist (the original and best) No. 68/69 Summer 2003.

  This is a story about teenagers, but it is so far removed from the YA-genre it is possible to come. The quote says it all, really. ShadowWalk operates on a completely different level compared to the mainstream shit we are fed continuously today.

Do you know?

  In a survey of children using the Torrance Test of Creative Thinking this was the result:

  At age four 84% of the children tested as highly creative.
  At age eight 67% of the children tested as highly creative.
  At age twelve 34% of the children tested as highly creative.
  At age seventeen 12% of the children tested as highly creative.

  Something needs fixing and it is not children.

Kindred souls

  When I hear some of my friends speak, when I listen to their mundane, unimaginative talk I feel even more lonely, but most of all I despair over how little even fairly intelligent people like them have truly grasped of the world. They are, I’m sad to admit usually fooled by the most common and transparent propaganda, and don’t feel the need to break out of their confines to search for the true freedom awaiting them beyond the thin veil of the oppressive society. When they don’t understand the world, they don’t understand me and without that understanding and simple awareness there can be little common ground and true friendship.

  It is said you don’t choose your friends and I guess that’s true. Most friendships grow more out of circumstances than from choice, and true friends are rare. It isn’t sufficient merely to spend a lot of time in someone’s company. You do need to have a somewhat similar view of the world and yearn for the same things.

  I agree with Marylyn French: Loneliness isn’t a search for company, but a longing for kindred souls.

Dreams of the Human Being

«Dreams can’t die, but they belong to the night».

This is the most thoroughly radical book I’ve ever read, and I’ve read quite a few. I would say, until anybody convinces me otherwise that it is the most radical novel ever written. I know others have compared it to the Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey, but that one doesn’t quite measure up, either.

Dreams Belong to the Night by Amos Keppler is a novel all true activists & radicals should read.

Everybody should read it, because very important issues are discussed there, but those that truly want to change society should definitely read it. It’s a book for advanced rebels, about rebellion in the true sense of the word.

In most stories about rebellion I’ve read and movies I’ve watched people stumble into it. They don’t have true awareness of their situation or the subjects involved. In short, they’re usually described as weak-minded idiots, which is clearly a part of the ongoing deception.

The people in the revolutionary movement the Green Rose make deliberate decisions to break away, to go to war against society. This is a kind of book I’ve wanted to read for a long time.

It’s a great story and well written, very intense and engaging. You can’t help caring about the characters and their issues.

Do we feel anything anymore? Is there any humanity left in us? Are we alive or no more than organic machines fit for the slaughter?

The book follows a group of beyond radical activists, from their first, initial conflict with the oppressive society to the beyond powerful, explosive peak. To say it is a great ride doesn’t feel in any way adequate.

I enjoy the pace, enjoy the slow-moving train of the story, how it’s slowly picking up speed and momentum, how the characters and the story itself are dominating the stage.


One thing among many I find great about this book is the casual way it portrays homosexuals. This isn’t a story about homosexual or bisexual activism, though, which is perfectly all right. The three, of about a dozen main characters are described as people, pure and simple, which is rare. I have personally struggled with society’s distorted view of bisexuality throughout my teens and feel this is one of the few books I’ve read without prejudice on the subject.

All in all, many controversial or perceived controversial subjects are touched upon and the story doesn’t shy away from asking any important question or challenging any grave imposition modern humans is subjected to. Yes, this is a book of books.

I can’t help fearing it will be overlooked, like so many great stories are in this day and age.

It will most certainly be condemned if it ever sees the light of day of public and official opinion. In case you’re wondering: that’s a strength, not a weakness.

It should be acknowledged, should become a part of humanity’s public consciousness, because in a way it already is. Dreams Belong to the Night is an underground publication to end all underground publications, roaming the subconscious web of humanity like an intense fire burning in the gray, sordid light that is the modern existence.