April 18

 Quiet. I find I have less and less to say to people.

This is absolutely the giving up of hope, on people, on yada going on with me.

I've said all that needs to be said. Everything else, or, almost everything else, is just repeating myself. And there's no point.

I'm aware it doesn't bode well.

My health has been bumping along the floor. I am good enough to get up, be alert for part of the day, sleep for much of it, and then rinse and repeat for another day. But not much beyond that. I struggle coming out of sleep or during it. All my problems seem to get much worse on the other side of sleep. Heart struggles. Brain fog. Pins and needles. Everything ratchets up a notch. And it can take me many hours to begin to "thaw". And it seems to slowly be getting worse. Very slowly. 

Eh well.

I am also. Resigned to this. Given up. Just. Waiting. Not doing anything. Just. Waiting. No plans. No hopes. Just. Waiting. Til it stops.

Again I am aware this is really very shit. If I saw this in someone else. Big yikes.

But it's me. So. That's ok.

Ah ha ha.

I've stopped telling people how I am feeling. When they ask. I just say I am ok. Low key. No evasion. But also. I'm ok. And leave it there.

I'm not ok. Of course I'm not ok. But I get that's not what people want to hear. So I say I am ok.

And just deal with my bullshit on my own.

I rewatched the Millennium trilogy again the other day. The girl with a dragon tattoo and the follow up two. The Swedish originals, not the hollywood remake. The hollywood remake is fine, but, I think the original is more punchy and a lot better. I understand why they remade it - largely because an American audience is not going to sit there and read subtitles. But eh. The originals are the best. And of those. The first film is by far the best. The only problem with it, is that it loses a good deal of heft when you already know the punchline. But nevertheless, it's good stuff. Also Noomi Rapace who plays female protagonist Lisbeth is my kinda girl. And Lisbeth Salander the character, smart, horrifically broken, non conformist is also my kind of girl. This would be someone who I would definitely be friends with. Not least of which because she's a bit of a machine head.

I do find the general theme in Millennium to be interesting. It basically repeats the riff that old publicly respectable dudes are mostly a bunch of sadistic monsters, or at best, stuffed shirts in hock to sadistic monsters. You can feel the loathing of old dudes come through. At first glance I would assume the author to then probably be female. But it's not. The author was, pretty much, the male protagonist in the stories. A Swedish investigative journalist with a socialist bent pursuing right wing extremism poking around.

So. You can kinda see why the stories are all this way. His hatred of old right wing dudes shines through, and tars them all with the worst he can come up with.

Having rubbed shoulders with my fair share of Swedes, and having listened a lot to their culture and yada, the impression I am always left with is like a paler version than is present in Millennium. A relaxed, friendly, modern kind of place, but, which under the surface, houses a lot of repressed hatred and secrets and sadism. And of one where the nuturing state is also full of it's share of incompetent bureaucrats who don't want to upset the apple cart. Overall there does seem to be a shadow of a bit of a repressed society going on. Then again. We're all monsters. But still. Perhaps, very unscientfically, it's the viking in them coming out. A slightly higher level of raiding psychopath than other less raid minded cultures. You need pyschopaths for good raiding. And the Swedes certainly have a good history of that. Cheerful. Full of life. Also very ok with raping pillaging and abusing anyone in sight and then sitting down for dinner with a joke.

Hmm.

Perhaps it's still all there. Just with a modern veneer of satiation and appearances over the top.

Anywho. Millennium. A cool trilogy. I feel the last film kinda struggle busses a bit, and the final court showdown is a bit laboured to get to the obvious point. But eh. The first film is fire. And the third just really gives you a satisfying closure on everything, even if it's nowhere near as good as the first.

If you haven't watched them, go watch them.

It's my Sisters birthday in June. Not sure exactly when. I can never keep track. On the rare occasion I would want to know, I would ask my mom. Can't do that anymore. Nevertheless, the other day in the shower, I asked her anyway. Hey mom. When is Janes birthday again ? She didn't reply. I didn't really expect her to. I finished off by saying How was she, and that I hoped she was happy and enjoying herself if she was out there. I know. It's just stupid. And I don't believe it. But it's nice to have the conversation anyway. And just act as if that is the case. Like believing elves exist. Or dragons can soar through the skies. I can occupy the paradox. Know that it's not the case. But do it anyway and believe I'm talking to her. On the whole, it makes me more happy than not. So. Yeah. It's that thing about being right or happy again. And here, I'm kinda ok taking the tinier bit happier path. If nothing else, if you're being an absolute practical nihilist, it's cathartic. Like therapy. Have a conversation, like they are still there. What would you want to say to them ? Etc.

I am thinking on a whim, of just sending my sister a few things for her birthday. Out of the blue. No reason. I've got a little book of Yoga ready to go. And an mulling over a few other odds and ends. I dunno. Maybe I won't do it in the end. Burn out. Lose focus. Lose energy.

Watched a few things on Youtube. One of them that keeps popping up is the dude that goes around and asks young people what they pay for their appartments, and, can he go have a look. By and large the amounts are eye watering. Thousands of dollars per month. I don't understand how they afford it. But one of them, an English guy married to an American, said it didn't matter, they were moving, could no longer afford it. His wife had got long covid, and could no longer work. That was two years ago. And he had basically become a single parent. There was the tiniest bit of resentment in there. Very subtle. But there. You got a flash of her huddled on the balcony, wrapped in a duvet, nestling a cup of something.

It was a brief insight into this long lasting debilitating bullshit that is going on. That has threaded through the lives of many families. Successful, unsuccessful, high powered to the humble have all been fucked over by the mysterious long covid. I find it rather eye opening that particularly the champion go getters, the constantly on the move, on the up, go go go types have also been brought low. And despite clearly their character and motivation in life to Go Do, have also not been able to escape the treacle swamp of exhaustion.

Fascinating. Also devastating. And a count that largely goes unrecorded.