It’s late at night in Utrecht and I am starting a blog. This is a somewhat desperate attempt at reclaiming space. People like me, people with many interests, hedonistic, liberal, individiualistic, these people struggle with focus. We suffer from the consequences of our own ideals. We would never admit it, but we crave for something to hold on to. If I keep looking long enough, there will be something that is worth my time and I will fall in love with. I will see it when it is right in front of my eyes. I am sure of it, because that is all I have, I have lost all power to make any decisions based on anything else than this pure limp intuition.

And then we encounter writing, blogging. An easy way to put some thoughts out there. Although, will it really ever be put out there? My thoughts are just that, never enough. Always raw and boring and not the trancendence I (or you for that matter) am looking for. But the trick is to just do it anyways, because the point is to populate. Not with noise, but with presence. And then, because I am fun, something will arise. And this is already theorized in such a way that it hurts and tastes like the same overchewed chewing gum all my fellow never-will-be-anyone blogging peers spat out.

The feeling of cringe I have, or empty feeling I get with many aspects of modern life will be a theme of this blog. I love modernity, and the way it estranges me and everyone. I love the monster we’ve created. I think it is absolutely fascinating to live and embrace all sides of modernity. Go to the Gym, buy the cheapest food in the cheapest supermarket, buy the most ecological food in the eco supermarket, go on a diet, overeat, binge drink, get a dumb phone, get the smartest phone, drink matcha latte, become a woke feminist, become an artist, do some djing, go on tinder, go to a yoga class, go to pilates, do mindfulness, buy a van, become a gay, transition to another gender, become a fascist, become hypermasculine, declare your non-binance, embrace your neurodivergence, repress your neurodivergence, run from your feelings, overembrace your feelings, live the craziest nightlife, move to techno city, abuse so much drugs you lose all sense of normalcy and pleasure, move to the portugal and become self-sustainable, albeit with an internet connection. Get a long distance relationship, maybe a few, break up with all of them because you don’t feel it, because you feel trapped, because this isn’t it, nothing’s ever it, but if I just keep looking, start an open relationship, slowly morph it into a poly relationship, then become disilusioned and go back to the most repressive old patterns and marry young and have kids, have a 9-5, divorce, win the house in court, get a mid-life crisis, sell the house, get rich and think you know everything better than everyone else. Then fall in love with a non-binary life coach who doesn’t charge you for your sessions because they think you are an extraordinarily unique and interesting individual and you are coaching them as much as they are coaching you, but in what way? Your ownly offerings are the same hedonistic individualism that led you along this path, that you keep calling an adventure, but deep down you know is empty because it is more akin to disaster tourism than a fertile journey through life.

And now here they are, the first person you fall for, who has a kind of love, and all you can do is corrupt them with the pure horny you are. A monster, who feels proud to understand the system so well, but who also is the system. Who adores the system and thinks anyone who hates the system is a boring lazy hypocrite, but not because they are wrong, but because they think they can escape, they pretend to not be part. But by being part, he lost all fantasy of what could be.