Ref
Saint Creature Sometimes I do auto-references (works that show me what I can get from what I have). Read More
December 2025
I hate
It’s interesting that one of the last, if not the last, posts of the year will be about hate.
I caught myself thinking that I hate the fact that when I look at certain people who either organized a concert for themselves (meaning their own), or something else. And you understand that they were able to do it because they have some acquaintances or friends who helped them do it. In other words, they have this “shoulder” that you have never had in your life.
They say that in a relationship, someone loves, and someone allows themselves to be loved – and sometimes it feels like everything works the same with someone’s help. There are those who help someone, and it’s you, and there are those who just need your help. They are simply not created to help you yourself, even in some small way. Simply because they are not created.
If you look at it more broadly. From the angle that everything in life is based on love – even if it is “blind fanaticism”, it follows that if a person does not love you – they will not want to help you with anything. Because when you love someone – you try to do everything for them. And it turns out that no one loves you.
Every time I catch myself thinking that our relationships (family) are based on that. That for the most part, you can only rely on yourself. There are occasional people who sincerely try to help you, but in a general sense, it doesn’t work that way. With the feeling that you were simply not born with some kind of golden spoon up your ass.
That’s exactly why I’m so attached to people like Kasia, who somehow reacted positively to what I was creating – and that’s it. It seems to you that at least someone has appreciated what others have devalued. And you start clinging to such people. To make an icon out of them.
There is a sense of hopelessness when you realize that there is no solution to all this. Simply because everyone has their own path in life. And if you really can’t touch someone with something that they will like – your path is the path of a loner.
This is sad..
Sa wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy nu Year!
My friend wished me a Merry Christmas with a picture of him naked. It struck me as a “nu Year”. So…this work was born thanks to him.
Happy Holidays, my dear friends! ^_^
My God has got a gun..
..And he works me to the bone.. Read More
Perfect Parts
We lose our “perfect parts” throughout our lives. For normal people, it’s probably nothing, but when you’re a perfectionist, it’s like cutting off pieces from a whole person.
Once, as a child, at least as I remember it, I was thrown into a car. More precisely, a car with a cut-off roof. I’m not sure if it was the first injury in my life, but that’s how I got my scar on my left leg and my first four stitches on my body.
Another incident was related to the fact that, while at my grandmother’s, I climbed onto a pipe to call my mother. The reason? Strange and stupid. Ugh… I needed to wipe my ass. So don’t ask about age. My foot slipped off a pipe that was lying on the ground, and…so I got a wound in the scrotum, running into a rebar sticking out of the ground. Everything was sewn up and “put back in place”, but I ended up with another scar in a rather strange place.
The third incident also happened in my childhood. When I was going down a roller coaster. My older brother was having fun from below, who was sitting at its base. When I went down, I was scared that I would drive into him, and my finger got electrocuted between the metal pipe of the swing and the canvas, which was also made of metal. No, my finger wasn’t cut off then. But since then, another scar has been appearing on my little finger.
About 15 years ago, my nose was broken during the New Year holidays. Some bully, because we were relaxing in our informal party. They attacked us and…since then, my nose is the way it is.
Interestingly, throughout my youth I was more careful than before. So I didn’t get any special injuries (except for mental ones, of course). When I was 17, I had a varicocele cut out. About three stitches. But that doesn’t count.
It’s funny, but most of the injuries I got in the city where I live now. Once I almost put my eye out when I put a board on a stone, put a cherry tree on one side, and stepped on the other side with my foot. It’s funny now, but it wasn’t very good then. But it hit me right in the eye. It hurt. A lot. Sometimes it seemed to me that because of this, one of my eyes sees everything in more yellow tones, but over time I learned from the Internet that this is typical for many people.
In the same city, when I was 10-12, I probably filled a plastic bottle with gas from a lighter and… set it on fire. As a result, I had a burn on my finger, but it was relatively minor because it can’t be seen now.
There is a small scar on my left hand – and I remember exactly that it is from a watermelon. More precisely, from a knife that slipped off. Just like there is a scar on my other hand from the same place, which was obtained with an old knife that was used to cut nettles for chickens. I don’t remember exactly how I got that scar.
I have a scar on my eyebrow from hitting a door. It’s from my military days, when I hit my forehead against a wooden door in the dark.
One of the stupidest scars, or rather not scars, but an almost severed part of myself, I got when I was repairing a bicycle. I spun the wheel, tried to stop the disc brake with my hand, and my thumb got caught between the brake and the disc. The tip of my finger was almost cut off. But, thanks to Pavel, we got to the hospital, they treated the wound there and everything went well. I can’t quite feel this tip, but the finger looks like a normal one. It was he who became the reason for this post.
During life, we lose our “perfect parts”. We become destroyed. Not like others or as nature created us. I feel sad that certain parts of me will no longer be the way they should be. But I can’t do anything about it, so should I be sad about it? I’m still looking for an answer to the question of what cuts off parts from us more – iron, or negative experiences received from certain people? I lean more towards the second.
I have a lot of imperfect parts with which I have learned to live. I have come to terms with what they are. I once thought that if I lost even a part of myself – it would be better to die than to remain disabled. But if you think like that – you should have jumped off that bridge at 17, because that’s when I got my first serious disability.
There are many people in the world who are more beautiful than you or me. More perfect than us. But what of it? In a broader sense? It doesn’t make them more important than us. More beautiful (in a broader sense) than us. Better or anything else. Everyone just has their own path, just like everyone was born under certain conditions, in a certain place, and in a certain family. It’s not scary that you may not be rich, or have some flaws – the main thing is not to make these flaws the meaning of your life. Not to focus on them and not to attach more importance to them. My camera is worn out, but it still takes great pictures. I’m worn out too, and sometimes I do great things. It doesn’t depend on my physical condition.
Fetish Shop
I thought that I would like to open a Fetish Shop. Literally. Sell things that relate to someone’s fetishes. For example, start selling (officially?) toys from Bad Dragon in Ukraine. Or various costumes, dresses for role-playing games. Moreover – latex costumes. Represent our brands that produce BDSM paraphernalia (yes, I have already come across such). It would be intriguing, because in my opinion only people with strange fetishes can be interesting. If you want to find friends – look among your own kind))
This requires a big budget, so I’m not sure that I will ever be able to implement it. But… our life consists of projects that we either implement or not. Who knows how it will go on. Right?..
Fun Fiction
Once, in a conversation with her about her feelings after moving, she quoted the movie “Green Book”. In general, the term “Green Book” itself is about a guide for black people, which lists safe places where they could stay for the night. And, in fact, the quote from the movie sounded like “I’m not black enough for blacks and not white enough for whites”. And today I somehow tried it on myself. Apparently, I’m not straight enough for straight, but also not enough…anyone else for someone? Apparently. I don’t use “them/they” in everyday life, not in general. I don’t want to get hung up on something like that. Sometimes I think about what it’s like to be with someone of the same sex, but the problem is that in our country, men are not about sexuality, but about dirt, sloppiness, an unpleasant smell. That is, you can’t somehow visualize this character, if only because you simply don’t have any source from which to draw.
When I put, for example, people I know – the picture comes out too stupid, to be honest. Because I don’t like these people. They don’t evoke anything in me. In my life, there have probably only been a few people who would evoke something. But usually they are very distant.
I don’t want to speculate about anything. As life goes on, so it will be. I guess I’m just too picky. I guess these are strange considerations from a married man. But I perceive it all differently. It’s like a fan fiction for some story.
Isn’t that too radical?
My inner punk rejoices in moments like these… Read More
We are in the noise of thousands of voices…
..Finding forever one’s.. Read More
Retro (Contra)
I would like to write briefly “who knows, that knows”, but maybe I’ll explain.
In my childhood there was a console, mostly known as Nes. It has game “Contra”. If you enter “up up, down down, back forward, back forward, B A, Start” on the title screen, you will get thirty lives in the game. This is also known as the “Konami code”.
I’ve been carrying this project in my head for several days, but I still haven’t found the time (or the opportunity, because of the shelling) to paint my nails. What’s more interesting – yesterday there was a heavy shelling that destroyed the local police station. So… apparently this work has found another, deeper meaning – right now, we all need those same “extra thirty lives”. It doesn’t matter, saved or not lost.
Recently, a person told me that he wants to think less about the war. To have less “war” in his life. In fact, that’s where our paths diverged. Because I don’t want to be silent about what surrounds me. I want to bring my own meanings to it, but if there is no war for her – ok. Because I live in it. So, in fact, there is no me for her.