Navigation
   

Front

   

Disclaimer

   

Archive

   

Subscribe

   
   
All work herein is copyright (c) Stewart Wilson 2001.
 

Enemy Territory

Being an occasional rambling article from the mind of Stewart Wilson

 
 

Something interesting for you to think about. It's from an old, old crypto site
(we're talking 95), and currently only exists in my head as that site either
vanished or moved so far underground they're paying rent to Satan. If I misquote
it it's because it's only in my memory. I can't copy it word for word.

"People do not want change. They may say that they want change, they may go on
and on about the established institution. But when someone does change something
they all start to yell about how it is wrong. Because people only want change on
their terms. They want to be the ones to change things to how they think it
should be and damn anyone else. Of course, no two people want the same things to
change. And so, in general, people say they want change, but what they really
want is for tomorrow to be the same as today."

Seriously. How many of you weant to change the world? How many of you want to
make a differrence because you give a damn, want to kick whatever supreme being
that you hbelieve in square in the crotch, drag her up by her collar and yell
"You didn't get it right, you bastard!" Because you're in the minority there.
Too many people that want change are unwilling to do anything about it. "Don't
look for media-approved, ideologically sound Right Causes. Look out of your
window and do something about what you see there", to quote Warren Ellis.

Don't expect it to be easy. Don't expect to be liked for it, or even to be
noticed. But sod that. If you just want to do something for the fame, you can
fuck off right now. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the
problem, and you've just made yourself a target.

Yes, I'm ranting for the sake of it. The world is just too fucked up right now
for someone not to say something. I can't sit idly by and watch while the world
goes to hell. Someday soon, I'll release the Bastard's Manifesto. Then you'll
see what I mean about things. Until then, don't hold your breath. Blue's a bad
colour for a person.

* * *

A certainty has come screaming into my head. When it arrived it didn't sit down
and be thought through like any ordinary thought, it upped and ran around,
causing havok and forcing me to notice it. Which, for those of you that don't
have my very warped mental processes, is a damn scary thing to have happen.
Anyhow, the thought itself was a simple enough one to comprehend.

I was born on the wrong side of the planet.

And ever since I first realised that, it's not been letting me forget it. I was
born on the wrong side of the planet. It would certainly explain a few things.
Like how apart from umm... three people, everyone that means anything to me is
too damn far away. Like how I have become shafted sideways with timezones. NO
longer can I be awake when other people are, because I am in this damn country
and I'm expected to show up for my job. Even when I try for the 'stay up till
more people are on', I'm foiled by needing to catch the last train home. I can't
carry on like this. I can't last for an entire year not seeing most of the
people I know and yet knowing with that certainty that if I were in the US, I
wouldn't have any of that problem. But, since I'm terminally fucked on that one,
I guess I'm just goping to have to live with it, and deal with it in my own way.
Bye bye, lungs. I never liked you anyway, you bastards.

It's amazing how truly little of my life that matters revolves not around times
in line with the country I'm living in, but with the USA. Lectures? Feh. I show
up when I need to show up, and that's it. Not failed me yet. People? You haven't
been listening, right? Only one of the people I give a damn about is
constrainted by work like I am. Everyone else, and I mean everyone in the sense
that it's all I know of, works on something closer to Eastern US time. Even the
happy hacker up in Edinburgh is conscious closer to then.

So, I'm stuck. If I want to be able to keep up links with my peer group, then
I'm going to have to quit my job and apply for lodgings at the webcafe. If I
want to keep my job, then I'm not going to get to communicate with the people
that mean anything to me. Last I looked, there was a phrase for this situation:
Between a rock and a hard place. Though "Completely fucked over" works just as
well. And it feels more appropriate. I sincerely someone up there is having a
good laugh at me, because I am getting very, very pissed off and soon they're
going to know what is meant when they say 'shaking the pillars of heaven'.
Probably stranmgling them when they land. If I have anything to say about it
anyway.

So, fuck it. I have decided that the only real way to deal with any of this is
just to say fuck it. Fuck the job, fuck the world, which obviously doesn't want
me online in the first place, I'm going to do what the hell I want. If I kill
myself through lack of sleep I can blame the fucking job and sue the bollocks
off them. If I have to gut someone for a home net connection, so be it. Do I
look as if I care anymore? Right now, I would happily garotte four random people
off the street to stop the world dicking me over. Not that it's ever going to
stop. Not now it's started. Ahh, fuck the world. I'm getting off.

Stewart Wilson, The Digital Raven
The bottom of a glass, 13th August 2001

* * *

Remind me next time not to touch the strong beer. I had forgotten how depressed
I could get.

There's no real point in me typing anything else anyway. It won't change
anything. Much as I want to, there's just not any bloody point anymore. So why
fucking bother? Why do anything?

Simple. Because I refuse to let the world be like this. And if you had a handful
of sense inside you, Nor would you. No fucker of a God is going to laugh at my
depression. Not unless he wants kicking in the bollocks. The same goes for you
bastards, too. There's no turning back now. Fuck no, not today, thank you
kindly. So shape up.

Stewart Wilson, The Digital Raven
Locked in a webcafe, 16th August 2001