The Biscuit Barrel

Silliness, or a deep metaphor for modern angst?

Archive for Februarie 2012

Of stamps and paper

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I’ve noticed a few days ago while passing the mail boxes in the entry to my building that a lot of me is in the post. This is quite a new thing, my usual method of transportation is trains, it’s where i feel most comfortable, really. The smell and the texture of the old CFR seats has many memories attached to it. The idea of having so much in the post, traveling from hand to hand is frightening, it’s a release of control i dislike. There is also a certain thrill attached to this. My future is in the post, traveling to and from Sweden. Portfolios, letters certifying my trustworthyness to the world. Proof of my work, my mind and my very existence is traveling around in small parcels made of dead trees. I put them in a box and wait.

The symbols of my political ideals are also gently traveling in similar, though i hope sturdier parcels. They are late, as reactions and politics often are. It’s expected of them, in a way. You never really realize what you want until you risk losing it all. If you’re lucky you get to have a choice in the matter, or at least an opinion you shout out to anyone who will listen. Politics is a deaf old hag, isn’t she?

Fate was snowed in recently, not even managing to get going well before quitting. I guess it’s part of it’s nature. There are always two sides to a cont and many faces to a die. The only way to beat fate, in my experience is to keep going until one of you is dead. You either win or you lose but at least you know where you stand with that and have no regrets. I believe in re-rolls, and in forcing life to your will. Worked with the post, i have my symbols of fate in my hand. Now give me a roll…

I can’t decide if i want to use the post more or less, for many more things. One thing is certain, I miss the train.

Written by CyberFaust

Februarie 12, 2012 at 12:28 pm

Publicat în Random ramblings

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Like a dancer unstrung

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Beware of shadows bearing gifts, or so the Malazan Book of the Fallen says, only to prove to us that in the end it’s all shadows and the dust of all we could have been.

Good evening. I thought it time we had a little talk.

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Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin…

It has been, in the last few years when i’ve learned and grown enough to appreciate it, a constant pleasure to know that we actually have freedom of speech. People might not listen, and people often do not care. Dissemination and distractions abound, but all in all you’ve been free to say whatever you want on the internet. As a /b/tard i’ve been thankful and appreciative for all of this. I’ve seen things og great glory i otherwise wouldn’t have been able to, and i’ve seen horrible things i wish my mind could erase.  Some of them were under the copyright of one brand or another.

I guess you only appreciate these things when you see them going away. Today btjunkie.org closed down for good. They did this willingly, probably to avoid legal action seeing how it is now illegal to run a torrent site in Sweden.

ACTA is happening, i really don’t think it will happen at the first vote. It can’t there will be too much protesting, too much rage, too much trolling of the vote. I really hope it doesn’t pass. The bastards are doing this though, maybe not now, but it will happen. They have too much power for it not to happen. Damnit, this really makes me angry. I’ve always cared about freedom, both mine and the ideal freedom towards which we should strive as a society and lately i’ve been seeing it taken away, piece by piece. Granted, there are many pieces that i give little shits about. The right to have a chicken as a pet for example is something i can live without.

My line comes with ACTA, and my ability to express whatever opinions i may have, even if they include the words ”Sony is shit”. I want my movie reviews to have bits of movies in them, so i can use their flaws as examples, i want many things that will be illegal. I DO NOT want my data searched when i travel around the world. I find this offensive and frankly i’d rather like to avoid sticking USB sticks into strange parts of my body in order to smuggle data around like some sort of Johnny Mnemonic clone. This is all so silly.

I understand why you wouldn’t care, of course. But think about it like this. The CEO of megaupload was arrested, sent to trial and convicted in what i think was less than a month, you can check it out if you like. He was also sentenced to 50 years in a US prison. The US doesn’t have prison terms that long for rape. This is the one time in my life i’ve seen the justice system in a allegedly ”free” country (yeah US, sure you are) take so little time to do anything, and of course it would do so only in order to bend the knee to pressure groups from the big entertainment industry.

This is, or so i like to think, the place where many of my generation draw the line. All the /b/tards, all the 9gagers and all the rest of the internet will probably rage about this like people haven’t raged in the western world in a while. And i shall probably rage with them. There’s an interesting facet to all of this, because this will probably not be peaceful, this won’t be calmly sitting in a diner waiting to be served as you get pummeled with fists.

This is that moment when you feed all the trolls of the planet, and if there’s one thing every one of those trolls have on their computer is the SAS manual for guerilla warfare. So this will be really interesting, because this will not be peacefull, this will probably be more akin to terrorism than anything else. The V masks are coming out, and the DDOS attacks are the first things to pop out, but when people in the polish parliment protest wearing V masks it’s a sort of approval, the meme starts going and you end up with a Stand Alone Complex situation where everyone shall troll what they perceive as symbols of power to a great degree. I am really looking forward to all of this, by the way, I bought a Guy Fawkes mask the other night.

This is really a good time for all the governments to think if they are afraid of waking up the beast that is their populace, because if anything will do it, this will.

I tell you, if shit gets real I’ll really miss the Geneva convention, because i don’t think we’ll be getting those rights anymore at that point.

Written by CyberFaust

Februarie 6, 2012 at 1:48 pm

Introductions

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    The first thing thought that pops in my mind is that the back of my head is wet. The sounds of a waking city holler in my ears in time with the pain in my brain.Sharp pain stabs me in the eye when i first try to open it, the right side of my brain burns to the back of my head. Oww. Lucky me, the left side of my face is still numb from last night, I’ve never been a good decision maker and i’ve been proven right in that again. Deciding it’s time for the first bar fight of my life after that 5th glass of Austrian Spiced Rum (i’m never drinking that again!) was probably one of the least clever decisions of my life. What the hell was i thinking…. oh, right, chicks dig scars…. Seems legit.

    I try to get up, but all i manage to do is get on my side and heave, but in a lazy way. The pavement feels cold against my face for a while longer while i rest a bit and try to get used to the light and the thousand angry goats grazing on my brain. After a minute or so it’s clear that while the goats aren’t seeking greener pastures at least i can now handle the light as the reflection of London’s iron sky is silently judging me from a bit of broken glass propped up on a wall. I try and get up with that gentleness that you only see in hungover people the world over. It’s a feeling of expected pain  that’s mostly never as bad as the actual thing. In this case it was, because apparently someone’s been trying to see if they can violently fit their fist  in my left eye socket. When i’m comfortably on lean on a wall and check my pockets and my face. My wallet and phone are surprisingly still in the  inside pocket of my trenchcoat, right were i left it. My face apears to have gone through some redesign work but heck, all the old things seem to still be where i left them. The London night seems to have been quietly merciful on both those accounts.

     I add a token gesture of  trying to shake off the recently aquired grime from my white but now filthy shirt, black jeans and dark green tie. I’m not even gonna bother with the trenchcoat that’s been a staple of my style ever since I started reading Raymond Chandler novels a couple of years back. I’m a photographer, you see, and in this business it’s all about the image you offer to people, much like if i were a hooker. In my case i found that what clients appreciate is an asshole in a trench-coat telling them their ideas are shit. Hey, don’t look at me like that, it pays the bills… most of the time.

     Something buzzez at my chest, probably my phone, i’d hate to think my heart’s in such a mess at this age that it sounds like some old american cars that are still around. The phone reminds me i have to pick up my new business cards all the way from the other side of town.

     After 5 blocks of walking i’ve been stopped and ID checked by Metro twice now. I’m adding one of the old press passes that i keep in my wallet to the lapel of my coat. That usually makes them look the other way. In the tube i get mostly only strange looks and people carefully avoiding eye contact with the creepy guy that looks like a bum. Several awkward stares later i get out and go into the office building where my printers try and churn out gaudy things for their own clients. The doorman luckily recognized me even in this sorry state, he even politely asked if i was alright.

     I walk into the printers, the door goes buzz so as to alert everyone in hearing distance about my disheveled self and that i am indeed tracking London mud on their carpets. I’m sure the buzz makes it all better. The lady at the orders desk just gives me that blank stare she uses for me most of the time, it’s both amused and judgemental. I have no idea what it really means.

     I clear my throat and ask her if my cards are ready. She silently pushes a full envelope towards me on the desk, never breaking eye contact. I hate it when she does that. I tell her thanks and that she should add it to my tab and quickly scurry away. The door goes buzz as i flee the room.

     In the elevator i open the envelope and check one of my cards. The paper is heavy and solid, almost but not quite white with a subtle texture that reminds you of books and old secrets. On one side there’s a faded peacock design in an art nouveau style, on the other my contact details in lovely old-school serifs that are both provocative and educated, the text is more or less what i sent them:

Andrew Taro

photographer, intrepid explorer

andrew@taro.eu

Written by CyberFaust

Februarie 1, 2012 at 9:50 pm

Publicat în books