I do not always agree with Martin Zender’s claims but with this youtube he does have a very big point to my opinion. Okay, so there was the hippie generation with their Woodstock while my generation had John Travolta’s Saturday Night Fever. The hippies had Jimmy Hendrix and my generation had Michael Jackson. Well maybe Lenny Kravitz was a better substitute for Hendrix. My first mother was of the hippie generation. I met her only twice and she liked Simon & Garfunkel. She did not want to have too much contact with me because I remembered her of the guy who had raped her. My cousin too was of the hippie generation and showed me the Grateful Death, Bob Dylan and Janis Joplin. She gave me books for my birthday about the political situation in Urugay. She had refugee friends from Argentina. Those were the days of Pinochet and Perron. She and her friends were protesting against almost everything you could protest against. My political awareness surely has had a strong root in her lifestyle. One day my cousin proposed that she would invite my first mother. But my first mother did not want to because she did not want to be intermingled with my new family. Then I send love letters to both my first mother and cousin. After a while both shut the door.
In High school a new protest generation was growing. Most of them did not do very well at school but they did outside school, smoked marihuana, had sex, and took part in every protest I could imagine. My socialist history teacher tried to make us politically aware of the world. While most of my classmates were mainly interested in football, our teacher tried to convince us that gay marriage was nothing special. I wrote psychotic love letters to Mariëlle, did not care about a nuclear holocaust but was only afraid of the other boys surrounding her. One of them was really close to her while I was not. Thanks to Mariëlle who protested against nukes in the 1980s I took part in my first demonstration in The Hague. Simply because I hoped to catch a glimp of her. Also other punk and alternative girls went there. But did ever one nuke destroy us? I cannot remember. But what destroyed me was that another guy took Mariëlle. I threated to burn the school down. My pamflets were confiscated by the manager of the school. Then a week later the canteen had burned down. Police came, I was brought to the police station. The officer said to me: listen you shithead, we know you did not burn the canteen, these fingerprints aren’t yours. But if you ever threat again to burn the school down, you will have a very big problem with us. My mother was shocked, asked me, who is Mariëlle, my brother told her. I understood that the school had informed her about my love letters.
Un unknown pyromaniac had most likely saved me from worse. Who was he?
I wanted to commit suicide. “Someone” told me that I could do that or try to do something for the world, instead of comitting suicide because of one girl. Aha, I remembered my cousin again. She had always wanted to change the world but had shut the door after my love letter.
In 2016, I protested in Amsterdam against the CETA treaty. But a Palestinian delegation was also there. What the hack did they do there?
This week I was kicked off of the Trade Union facebook because I insulted everyone who took part in the many hysterical Black Lives Matters protests. Why did they not protest last week against the new handicapped law? A colored multicultural “cunt” tried to teach me that life was about discussions and arguments, not about insulting each other. She was teaching me that I as a white male should consider my “privileged life”. Oh really, if life was about arguments, why did the Trade Union not want to read my book about the end of capitalism and the downfall of Babylon?
This week I realised again that I am different. My life is not about changing the world to the better. My life is about my fetish with Anais Nin and about Platonic love letters. Her diaries are still with me while the world is leading astray. My life is about Platonic love letters to platonic women with platonic ears and platonic eyes and platonic noses. I could ask Jesus why this all was necessarily with Marielle and so. He would say, sure, you had to discover Atlantis. You would never do that if you did not know what Platonic love was.
This week a bdsm mistress gave me a small exercise to re-experience my fetish. I felt in Noah’s Ark under her save bell, payed her 20 euro’s for it and enjoyed the dominion that Christ gave me. Black Lives Matter but Fetish Lives Matter too. I feel save with Anais’ diaries, it is the present that christ gave me to live my lonely and boring life. It is simply MY life. Change the world, I leave it to Eric Clapton.