Artistic Diary April 2025

29.03.25

Alright. The date is 29.03.25, written in the European way. I take the liberty to preemptively start the diary for this month, and to begin the diary far before it was really intended. I wanted to launch the whole thing when I get myself an English language website, very much like this one through Hostinger, which allows nudity. It will come, hopefully this summer. The fact of the matter is that one of my brothers have created a challenge for me and another brother of mine. We're supposed to complete a set of tasks, like exercise and cook meals, and will be rewarded with monsters and magic spells. We're supposed to fight on the battlefield on completion, and the winner will get a trophy. One of the tasks is writing a diary. So, I'll launch this diary early in order to increase my chances of winning.

Right now, I'm between places. I've just spent a month at my mother's apartment, after my own home became untenable. This winter I caught 18 mice, there were flies in the middle of winter, like 2-3 each day, and worse of all, there was mold that turned out to be really damaging to my health. I had to drop everything and just leave. With that I was unable to participate on a podcast series I'd really looked forward to. I'm also very concerned about my health, because of stints of lunge issues, kidney pain, blurred vision and even the feeling of my brain being disconnected. I am health paranoid from beforehand. This does not work miracles, to put it that way. I'll go to a doctor and check my kidneys eventually this summer. Now I can't do even that, because of the way the health system is working. I'm like 9 hours drive away from my designated doctor, so there's that.

My grandfather got Parkinson just when he became a pensioner. A friend of the family noticed his gait. My grandmother didn't want to hear any of it. Typical for women, and doubly so for my family. My intuition tells me his disease was caused by mold, being povertry stricken in the same region as I am now, with the same greedy money mincers. I relive all my family's curses, but I'm like the wind. Hopefully I just touch it, and then leave.

By the way, never let women chose housing for you. They don't understand the world as outer objects. Will write more about that later, perhaps.

I wanted to write a passionate text about the situation, and my situation in general. Maybe I'll do so, but it's important I don't get swallowed up in rage, despair and the usual paranoia. History has shown that if you bleed negative energy, you'll attract negative people, and guess what, they will do everything they can to hurt you, by any means possible. I can't afford that. Let's just say I'm very unhappy with the situation.

I am much a trickster and magician type, speaking with tarot cards, and, as it has shown itself, very priestly. Therefore, I have difficulties standing up for myself without fearing A) I will kill my opponent, or B) He or she will kill me. But this is the way of the warrior. I'm tired of people trampling upon me with no consequence, so I want to tell who rented me this horrible place that its immoral for him to rent this out to anyone. Your destroying their health that way. This is a greedy and petty person, and he deserves to hear it. With that, I will have said my piece, and I'll never look back.

As a priestly type, I am more moral than most people, not less. But it's a natural form of morality. I have no instincts for violence, but can do violence in a pinch, if I decide to do so with my logical mind. So, I can serve as a soldier and have done so, but am not a very good one. But as one of the Oratores class, my opinion matters more than for most people. When I stress something, I have a point, and when I call you immoral, well, you really are. Another factor is that I'm less socialized than most people, which is good in this age.

At my mothers's house I've gradually recovered my health, walking the dog extensively, like 3,5 hours daily. We were attacked by a stray here the other day. I drove it away by kicking and shouting. Luckily, my mother's tiny dog doesn't seem to have been hurt, although he was bitten. No marks, no blood. Although he was in a state of shock, he quickly recovered. As for me, I didn't get scared or even stressed. I'm so used to living in inner turmoil, this was nothing.

Will probably write about my productivity at a later stage. I've long struggled with being productive, and the terrible housing didn't help. My mother threw out the only writing desk in the apartment many years ago, and she hasn't gotten a new one, despite requests from her sons. I guess we're not important enough ... The apartment itself is small. It's only the kitchen table, next to the boomer tv in the adjacent living room, and the dog is always nagging, even when I'm alone in the house. So my solution has been to go to the library to write. This was the place where I lost my job, and career, but I needed the option to go there. A former class mate of mine is now the chief librarian. It's not her I'm mad at, it's the culture leader and a female principle. They set out to destroy me because of my political opinions. Now they probably think I'm planning a school shooting or something, sitting there weekly. Not so, but I'm tempted to twist the little necks of the kids if they make too much noise, but that is normal. Anyway, my class mate even let me sit there until after closing time. She trusts me enough to let me have the building for myself, which is good.

It wasn't such a good career anyway. Being a librarian is a socialized role. Completely unsuitable for me. I strongly dislike always having to smile to people, and to always play a social role. Deep down, I'm glad it happened. Not only that, but I wanted it to happen, and so, it was I who put the wheels in motion. It was my inner psyche that made me act in such a way to be fired. And here's the thing, I don't need that job. I'm rather poor, but financially secure in my poverty. But yeah, it was weird walking around in that place. It was as if time had been standing still. It's never good to be in such places. The wind I am.

So what have I written. Mostly porn and a philosophical dialogue. The philosophy got really successful. The porn is too embarrassing for me to show it to anyone who knows my name or my persona as Light Elf, and that says something. What can I say? I have many sides to me. I've also struggled hard to focus on anything when it comes to that stuff. My Dionysian side is very shifting. One scenario and fantasy takes over for the next, they even shift as I write them. The only solution is to apply the firmness of Apollon.

I've had many years being less productive than desired. Partly because of depression and turmoil. When it came to my new housing, I noticed that immediately after I moved in I stopped streaming computer games. This is a sign that my energy was depleted. Not good. Now ... I have alot to do. Always when it's like this, I have a tendency to want to do too much at once. So, I'll start slow, be focused. On the other hand, I often work best with parallell projects. So, writing 1-3 texts at the same time, that will do, but not much more than that. The demands to become an agriculturalist and having visitors to my new fantastic place will also have to be paced. My writings will all come up on my new site in the English language. I like the attention, and have good reasons to focus on the anglosphere. I also like it when I can write less formal than on Substack. So much to say. So much to do. More will come. With that, I bid you farewell for now. Light Elf out.

01.04.25

Last day in Grong, my mother's place. She has already left, and tomorrow I'll meet her at my aunts place in Trondheim, where I'll spend the next 14 days or so. Then I'll start the moving process in earnest. We will also "surprise" one of my brother's on his birthday tomorrow. Only now do I have a good overview of my finances, and it's not looking too good. All the surplous for one month will go away to double rent and desposits. That means I'm stuck with what I have. I'll have to cut my expenditure drastically, and even then I might not make it. My deficit won't be very large. We're talking a few hundred dollars probably, but still. Bear in mind I owe like 1500 dollars to my family already. If I can't make it, one of my brother's probably can help me out. Could turn to my mother, but she spends every penny on renovating her cabin. It doesn't help that I've 'promised' to go to a confirmation early this may. This is an important event in Norway, and is for a part of the family I haven't seen in ages. But that will cost me, both travelling, the hotel, and a small gift. I'm not sure if I can do it, but I'll try. So what are my solutions? Mainly, I'm thinking about ditching the bed. It's the only thing I have that won't fit in my car. I can sleep on a mattress the first period, and I think the house even might have beds. Can't remember. Transporting the bed will cost almost as much as buying a new one. Other than that, there will be many trips with my car. I have help, but those are men that are far away, considering I only need them for easy tasks, like moving a few pieces of furniture into my car. These small tasks are needed on quite a few occasions. One of my brother's is six hours away, another is quite busy, generally. Maybe I'll handle it myself. I'll get 300 dollars back on taxes, but I'm not sure I'll get it on time, which would be the 1st of may. I also freed 350 dollars from a bonus card. The money will come in handy. However, I'm not out of it. I need to save money, and stop drinking and all other silly expenditures altogether. I'm also considering selling stuff. I have some Lord of the Rings collector items, which will harvest some money if I can sell them. Maybe I'll get some money for the bed, and I might also sell one of two bicycles, provided I can fix it in order to be sellable. I had planned keeping it for visitors, so that I can go on biking trips with them, but moving it will cost me almost a full car trip, as these things are bulky. I jammed the breaks while moving it the last time, 1,5 years ago. Now I have another and better bike, inherited from my father.

04.04.25

Arrived in Trondheim at my aunts place the second of April. My mother was there, but had decided to leave the same day. My uncle and his son, my cousin, showed up. We were going to move some steel tubing from a tall building and move it to a basement. My cousin is a young man, and has recently been in the military. But as is characteristic of the family, he is rather lithe in my mind, and has an even effeminate quality. His father told an interesting story in his confirmation (the important event in Norway) The boy had been in kindergarden, and implored his father to look at him, because he was climbing so high. Basically he was just clinging to the roots of a tree. My only family member on the mother's side with true masculinity to him is my brute brother. He is both brutal, strong and fat, and acts with a complete contempt for death. He even picks fights with random black people on the street for fun. His brutality became too much for me, in the end, because alot of it was directed at me. A true psychopath. The rest of us ... are rather lithe. Now, the entire hope of the family rests on him and his sister. The sister used to be interested in camping and nature, but peer preassure got to her, and she's now a superfical make up doll like the rest of them. We are not very fertile, my family, although Trøndelag literally means "The law area of the strong and fertile." None of my mother's children has managed to get children, and my aunt was unable to conceive. We're a very small family in the regard. My uncle said something funny when I wanted to rush out to start the job at their arrival. "We're not Germans," he said, meaning we don't have to operate on maximum efficiency. But really, what can we be, if not Germans?

In either case, father and son took the assignment of hoisting the tubing down. They thought they has the ability to cooperate the best, but they had major blunders. I can't say much. I did something potentially terrible while hoisting something with a rope myself. It's such a bad story it can't be told here. No damage done, at least. When the stuff had been hoisted down, I was lifting it. I have this trait that I often help with my stomach while lifting, both to balance things and give extra force, and of course, some threads on my jacket ripped. Other than that, we moved the stuff through a basement window, without breaking the window underneath, and that was it. Luckily, my mother sowed my jacket, and my aunt washed it later on. My mother noticed I was getting upset over it. I will have to work on my stocism, I suppose. Parts of the reason is perhaps that I can't get new stuff for the time being, not even a jacket, so every loss is felt. It's the jacket I move around in all the time. My step mother even told me I wouldn't get any heritage, if I showed up in that jacket, at a time we were to sign a contract together. But I prefer it. Norway is a winter country, and I've found a perfect balance. Woolen sweater underneath, and a light jacket over. With that I am comfortable in most climates. This was true even when I lived in Tromsø, an arctic town, where I used a simple wind jacket on top of my wool. I'm an INTP and simple in the ways of clothing. My light, variation and colors are on the inside.

Afterwards I wanted to try to pet my uncle's dog, a female husky. That was a mistake. The dog was startled and yanked away. My uncle told me she doesn't like to be touched, almost at all. This dog is so spirited it won't back away for any confrontation. At one point, she was attacked by a pitbul like dog. My uncle was not worried, because she held her own, but he eventually told the owner of the attacker: "Will you get your dog soon, woman?" He seldom gets mad at strangers, he said, but I suppose at that point he considered it.

Other that that, life with my aunt is as expected. She once ordered me to go brush my hair. She's a very direct person, and always needs to plan things in advance. I helped her with trying to sell this steel tubing, after much to and fro with the technicalities. At night, I've been writing more stories. A new porn story, of all things, as the first one became too technical and kind of fizzled out, for now. Again I meet with the same problem, because the story was supposed to be very basic and rather focus on the emotional, but then the endless variation in position and possibilites enter. I'm a very conflicted guy.

Unfortunately, my health paranoia is still active. I've read that mold can give rise to both Parkinson and Alzheimer (my grandfather had Parkinsom) I also read that smoking could stop the process, as the theory is that the mold enters your brain, starts breeding, and starts attacking the nervous system. Smoker's have less incidence of that disease. From that, I considered starting smoking e-sigaretts, or at the very least, using chew or nicotine gum. But then I read that people in the beginning stages of the disease had gone through a scientific project with nictone plasters at high dosis, to no effect. They think perhaps, that the smoking helps with carbondioxide or something. I can't go into that. I just have to live with it, and hope it goes well. I'm very worried. My health paranoia is there, its true, but that doesn't mean nothing real can't effect me, as it just did. The paranoia also activates when I feel the gods don't favour me. I don't want my last vestiges and skills to be destroyed. I'm planning an accusatory and intuitive texts, speaking with my inner apparitions of my concerns, but it's too big to do now. Maybe later, when I have more calm. Porn it is now, and endless variations in positions and holes until I lose all direction ...

I texted with the new house owner. Everything is alright, and I will sign the contract when driving down the 15th of April or so, and can start moving the stuff, although I don't officially move in before the 1st of may. The washing machine broke, but he's looking to fix that, somewhow. Everything is proceeding as I'd hoped, if I don't collapse in my own despair and health paranoia. This morning I saw stars in my mind again. Maybe my brain isn't rotting or fried off after all. In the sagas, a woman was wraithful at the norns. I'm inclined to be the same. Effeminate traits, after all. Accepting your destiny seems strange to me. Let me rage and weep, I once said, and so it became. But I now wish it won't always have to be like that.

We surprised my brother for his birthday. (not the brute) He was happy with that, and even hugged us. I brought him a symbolic gift. Turns out, I hadn't completed the challenge of walking 25 kilometers anyway. I will have to do that before the competition ends. Can't now, as I'm stuck inside. The weather is too lousy. He also revealed to me hown he lost the strategy game we were playing over email. He matched me in strength, but got killed in his wizard tower by his own troops. Go figure.

08.04.25

Alright, yesterday I walked to the troll place, as part of my brother's challenge. This is my aunt's old house, well one of them. I chose the city routue instead of the forest routue. Didn't want to bother with finding the entrance to the path, finding my way in the forest, and then looking at the place from some cliff. My aunt was even unsure of what house it was, but gave me a house number she thought would be correct. I even lost my way briefly along the winding roads, thanks to using the GPS. In this case, it was just about using your eyes and common sense, so I shut it down. I wanted to travel light, so I didn't bring food or some water, just some mandarines in my pocket. Up at the troll place, I recognized the landscape and the approximate location, but not really the houses. I had several candidates. I remembered something that happened to me there. Visiting, a big dog, a St. Bernard, was so happy to see me he tore off his chain, and jumped me when I was climbing a grassy hill, toppling me. That hurt. I seldom had physical shocks and pain in my early childhood, so that memory is inprinted. Also, I was playing with some toys, some ships in a storm. I talked as I did so, and said my uncle "Would have to watch out, unless he were to drown." He overheard this, and said. "THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN!" startling me to no end. This is my uncle in law, if that makes sense. He was married to my aunt. Back then, he had curly dark brown hair and beard, like an image of strength and vitality. Now, he's a shadow of his former self. Age will do that, of course, but he hastened the process by nearly drinking himself to death. He's been very sick recently, at death's door, even. My aunt takes care of him. Well, she takes care of everyone. Back then he was a ship captain, and he and my aunt used to travel the world. I saw some old familiy videos of him some time back. Knowing what I know now, he treated the glass of spirits with too much reverence. I recognize that, because I do it myself. But I doubt I will have his destiny. Either the gods will kill me quickly or use some underhand method, but I refuse to do it myself. Directly, that is. They will have to force my hand by some external misfortune. I realized how far gone my uncle was when he were to help me move back in the day. He barely was able to put some energy in it, and emptied one of my bottles of vodka in minutes. Then he became talkative with us kids, but only then. Without the alcohol, he was a man of few words or hid in his room. He ended up hiding in his room permanently with the alcohol then. I wonder what they did to him to make it so? Probably the old tale of familial abuse.

Well, it turns out my aunt was right about the house number, but they had rebuilt the entire house. It wasn't much there for me to recognize, and the little hill I fell down is not there, or is so little I don't notice it anymore. So now I completed the quest and can have my brother's reward. It's mostly useless in the upcoming battle. Oh well. Afterwards, I was so thirsty, I bought 4 pints of beer. I have a forbidance against alcohol to save money, but made an exception here, buying the cheapest type. Still expensive. Everything is expensive these days.

I noticed something disturbing. A few of these days, I've taken to be tired after dinner and beyond, making taking a nap necessary. No matter how much I try, it is impossible to focus or write when I get tired like that. I guess it's called getting old.

Today there was a note on my car, notifying (heh) me that the parking spot belonged to the store. I went in there to ask how long I had to move my car, and had planned asking my brother if I could park it outside of his aparment, if possible. Turns out, they will let me stand there until I leave, which will be the 15th of April. I had a lengthty and friendly conversation with the janitor there. Trønders, the race I belong to, are nice people. I've been with such un-nice people it felt suprising. They still have the flaw of extreme conformity, which has been the root of many conflicts in the latter days. Regardless, I have a talent for manuvering among people, and getting on their good side. Some of the reasons are that I appear honest, forthcoming and sympathetic. It's not entirely misleading either. I always have to remind myself I should use that skill more. Unfortunately, men like me more than women, and my people-gift is too low level to give me access to random breasts.

Speaking of un-nice people, I got a message from the money mincer, informing me he had arrived from Thailand. He is old now, but has the appearance of the evil and primitive kids you sometimes meet. A persons breed and character doesn't change. Now, I'm of a mind to use Odins advice. Return lies with falsehoods. I just want to get out of there. Nothing I do or say can change the money mincers character, until the moment we toss him in a mass grave, where he and his kind belongs.

12.04.25

Just had an uncanny experience. Went to the store, and at one moment I was staring directly at my father. It was the same face, the same height and body type, and the clothes he would wear. A denim jacket and a colorful scarf. Even his pants were like thise he would wear. Tight, and saggy at his nonexistant ass. Well, this was my father like when he was young. This has happened before ... me thinking I see my father. In the olden days, this would strike me with fear. Not so now. I suppose it makes a difference that the man now is dead. The person was even with a woman of the same type. Somewhat artistic and with red (but dyed) hair. Patterns repeat, until Kali Yuga remove them from the earth.

Had an unpleasant dream. A young version of my brute brother cut at my hair when I wasn't watching, and was taking off with some pieces of my hair. I didn't like the thought that he would be in posession of any of my hair, presumably because he could use it to curse me, so I pursued him into a building. There, I mounted him and starting beating him relentlessly, demanding he give up the hair. Such ended the dream. This has happened in real life too, the mounting and beating I mean, but no amount of violence can pummel the evil out of him. I supppose the dream means I think my health is threatened, which I will speak about shortly.

Called my aunt today about some daily stuff. The conversation went as follows:

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh God!"

What can I say? Diplomacy has never been her strongest side, and none of it was directed at me. She was just stressed and busy with something else. I remember the time I had a girlfriend, and she was dressing up in a traditional costume. Not a bunad, because her kind is not allowed to wear that. Traditional costumes are divided into districts, and her region doesn't have bunads, but something else, a grey sack called the costal costume. She was coming out of the dressing room, and was confronted with my aunt, exclaiming:

"WHO ARE YOU?"

The poor girl was so scared she started shivering. It took several females to calm her down. Damn, but I miss her. My aunt is of the type that is likely to physically move you if she deems it necessary, and at one point, she knocked out my father. Well, that's a story for another day.

Earlier I had entered a store, and bought a bottle of special beer as a symbolic birthday gift for my cousin, who would come to visit. The guy at the store was really friendly and interested in the bottle. A foreigner, by the way, some kind of turk. What it was and what it tasted like and all that. Today, I had bought ecological (or so I hope) meat at a special store, and had to tell that it was from another store at the counter. The guy, a new one, told me:

"Trust is what Byåsen is built upon."

I told him it wasn't like that at all places. But yeah, the people here are really nice. Strikingly nice, even. Another girl greeted with with a big and beautiful smile here the other day. I think this is some of the reason I was blue pilled for so many years, in regards to my person, who I was and where I belonged. I have been red pilled about the outer world from age 19/20, but didn't understand my self before I was 40 or so. Now I understand I'm not like other people, and don't belong with them, even if I wanted to.

Yeah, so my cousin arrived. He came late in the evening, when I thought he'd arrive at daytime, so I had started drinking in well, daytime. He's an adoped child, from Argentina, and is the guy that has used to make music for some of my projects. The pope said of Argentinians, being an Argentinan himself, that their ego is so big, when they are comitting suicide, they climb atop of their ego and jump. The same is true for my cousin. He's the type you have to be a bit careful around, because of certain fragilities. I'm the only one of the (once) young men in the family he's on friendly terms with. He also got disllusion with the music, because of the relative lack of response and attention, common among artists, and because he's rather unstructured and energyless, maninly because he's addicted to weed and has been so since age 14. He made/sampled a full album for me, and wanted to change it up, using better sources and a new style, but it fizzled out. I tried to tell him we should lower our ambitions. Didn't work. This time he showed up with a vomit green piece of cloth over his head, and those bright red ribbons hanging from his cap I assume certain american gangsters walk around with. I recognize what these brigth colors warn about. They are the hallmark of poison, whether you recognize them as such or not, which he of course consciously doesn't do. Edward Dutton is right. My cousin must be a spiteful mutant, using the colors to warn about what he is, drive away certain people, and attract his own kind. Partly, his status as spiteful must come from being an eternal outsider in Norway. Like a friend of mine told me, he'd never seen someone adapted from south america thriving here, or being anything other than a freak. I suppose the reason I'm the only one who get along with my cousin, must be cause I'm somewhat of a spiteful mutant myself. My cousin suggested I contact a housing organization to complain about and possibly take legal action about who has rented out the rat hole to me. Unrealistic as always, because I would have to be a member first. My cousin is an INTJ, and prone to believe in force, rules and authority, like all of his kind, unless you are a bloody genious like Nietzsche. Being somewhat of a gangster is just an inversion of the rules the police and larger society go by. I like the rules neither of society or of gangsters. I'm easygoing, and do not care, and that's why I have a gangster friend and a friend that is a policeman, I suppose. But I'm also treacherous. At the end of the day, I would throw them in a ditch, if they stood in the way of what I believe in, which is freedom in the endless forests or steppes, and the dignity of the people that live there (mainly elves). Easygoing and treacherous. It's always like that.

A friend of mine, also an INTJ, has said I'm attracted to primary colors, on grounds of the music videos of Fairies I keep gawking at. Without I wouldn't be able to live, and I've told him as much. But it can't be true they're dressed in primary colors. Light pink and light purple. My cousins colors were more basic, and unpleasantly at that. So, maybe my friend tricked me, as he has been prone to do. Now, I'm of the opinion that colors, along with other things, should be subtle and elegant. They should be colors, yes, but not screaming at you. These things are important. Goethe was also concerned with colors.

Anyway, I drank to much. My inner alchoholic took control again, partly because I wanted to, and partly to ease the feeling of social unease. I continued drinking even after he left, end ended up drinking 14 beers (0,5 liters). That night, I listened to some music that really moved me "On the road again" by canned heat, and now plan to write an analyzis and praise of that song. But yeah, I was really wrecked, and spent the next day, the 11th, in a wrecked state, barely moving around the house. Finally, I got out to get a burger, even though I try to avoid that, due to metan inhabitors in the meat for commoners. I'm also supposed to save money.

But bad thing is, now I started having kidney pain again. Different, not a continues feeling, but short, sharp bursts of pain. My vision also ended up blurry at one point, so I had to support myself when climbing down the stairs, as I barely saw anything. Partly this can be caused by dehydration, or maybe it's the poison still leaving my body? But this has never used to happen, so ... I must have been damaged by the poison. Maybe I should hasten a doctor appointment, but feel like I have neither the time or resourcess. We shall see.

It's better now, but the fear and anger has been planted in me. I'm really not looking forward to seeing the money swine. A friend of mine told me he'd seldom been so resentful towards another human being as he was to a girl. Mainly because she didn't want to be his girlfriend, and I suppose later because she refused to even give him some pity sex. You might say such feelings are unfounded, but then my feelings should at least be more reasonable. I can say the same. I've seldom felt as resentful towards anyone as I have towards the money swine, mainly because he's hurt my health through his greed, and even got a hysterical collapse when I demanded money to cover the expenses. The mouse trap went off during that conversation, where he even complained about his mother's poor health. Fuck him and his mother. I've had a few friendly conversations with her, but ... she's probably the one that thought him those values. Dostojevsij said that if there is no God, everything is allowed, and in crime and punishment, the money of the female money mincer is by any human meassurement justified. So even Dostojevskij would be okay with me murdering those people, since I don't believe in God. I'm a kind and forgiving person, but when my wrath has been awakened, it can never be quelled.

My most aggressive and resourceful brother called me. He is ready to move. We're both moving at the same time. I'm ready too. But never try to throw away something with him around. I want to get rid of my writer's desk, and he'll take it over from me. Now he'll get bags of cds and dvds I do not want.

On a brighter note I wrote a really succesful text, a mythological piece about meeting a goddess in the woods, pouring some personal emotion into it all. An American friend really liked that stuff. But it's shocking how little attention I get on substack, mainly because I've mainly been inactive, I suppose. One on my philosophy pieces only has one reader. That's devestating, really. Substack is for subs, and I believe a new web page will be better, because there I'm free from censorship and can throw my madness around. But it's saddening that even my philosophy don't seem to have a future. People are like dogs and depend on authority, and want to lay with their butts lifted for any sort of authority at all. They understand authorithy but nothing else. The problem is, I can't have authorithy, because I lack the accademic credentials and I suppose an impeccable public figure. That's boring too. People for the most part play roles, where they only care about or do one or a few things, and have generic and boring values. I'm not like that, I'm fluid and a trickster. My philosophy beats almost any else, but it will never be accepted, because of the dog-like quality of people. My hope for success is in outrageous and sadistic porn, speaking of my great emotion. Here's the thing. I do the erotic better than anyone else too. Mainly because I'm more sensitive than well, anyone else, and because I've lived and breathed the erotic all my life. Don't ask me how it became so.

13.04.25

Had a dream recently that I was participating in a cavalry attack. The horse was wounded, and fell to the ground on top of me. I was trying to get free to one side, but was completely unable to. I came to myself struggling against the wall by my bed, blocking the way. In the dream the horse wasn't seriously wounded, but decided to lay down, incidentally, on top of me. There was some other dream too, possibly involving stealing food, but I can't remember that. I also dreamt that an American acquaintance had disappeared or died, which was somewhat saddening (I guess).

I was supposed to be visited by an old friend today, an ISTJ. But he's gotten sick. He is often sick these days, completely knocked out. I know it's from the vaccines, but have been unable to tell him as much. Some friendship, huh? I've had alot to do with him through the years, but our friendship has now been reduced to nerdiness.

Started another erotic text last night. That's the third one during this exodus. This time I didn't even get to the sex, althought I suppose it represents a major fantasy of mine. I hope to finish all these texts and then publish them. Not all of them can be masterpieces, but I need the recognition, and I need the movement forward. Getting stuff finished, for a change.

Some time ago I thought out a funny scenario. Emperor Nero invites you, a Roman senator, to an orgy. He brags endlessly about it, claiming it's the best thing ever. So you eagerly meet up, only to find that you are the main attraction. What can I say? The orgy doesn't wait for anyone, or does it?

Look, I'm completely shameless, so let me tell you about the greatest fantasy of mine. I have many, almost endless fetishes, save for a few ones that just are ugly, but one of my greatest fetishes is having sex with a girl in bunad, the Norwegian traditional costume. So, one of the texts involve that. The reason must be because the clothing itself accentuates Nordic racial purity. But let turn this to my ultimate fantasy. She must be a virgin, of course. Let's enhance that. There should be more girls, not three, but five of them (five is a magical number for me) All of them dressed in bunad, virgins at 14 years of age, and unvaccinated. Being vaccinated is one of the greatest signs of impurity for me, the subject (or object?) having altered genes, having thus turned into a Chimera, a human hybrid. Anyway, the girls should have varying hair colors. One should have red hair, one should have light brown or tawny hair, one should be blonde, and there should be two additional girls that are blonde, but also sisters. They need not be twin sisters (too creepy). I would have to be in posession of endless sexual potency and skill, but that perhaps goes without saying. I would have sex with all the girls in public, from behind, lifting their dresses, their rear ends pushed together, and them obediently standing there. If it's out of obedience or fear ... well, that can vary. But it shouldn't only be public, but filmed, with the best possible equipment, in 4k format, and from several different angles. This should be livestreamed and sent on television on Norway, which would probably mean the entire planet saw it. This could function as a precursor to the Nordic race taking over the world, and then the universe. Oh, and the girls should all have boyfriends, although they are virgins. Something tells me (but what?) that women tolerate such notions and musings less than men. But there's that. I'm very honest and pure of spirit. There is nothing unnatural about all of this. On the contrary, it's a sign of health, nobility and being near the gods. If only the gods could grant me such a thing. I want only the best. It's for the nordic race, after all. I would delete all other peoples with the push of a button, if I could, maybe after they had watched all the sex. In this case, I wouldn't even need to vary between the openings. He he! Why of such a young age, you ask? Please. A friend explained this to me. A virgin of young age is biologically the most valuable. The varying hair colors would mean I would effectuate the continuation of the Nordic race in all its color spectrums. See, it's all very rational, but people huff and puff, and people get hysterical if I say an honest word. If only they would finally die when they have their hysterical fits on the floor. Thoughts aren't illegal, so that means you have nothing, even if you try by each, every and any method. The Realm of Spirits is my domain, so get lost, you who don't belong with us spiritual heaven-travellers.

14.04.25

Saw some patterns and images in my mind again, this time using the left part of the brain, the part that has been threatened by the mold. I saw a great white surface with bubles, and I saw colorful numbers streaming down. I don't know what it means, and perhaps I never will. But I hope it means the gods favor me, as they should. I can't afford to lose the accuity of my mind. It's the only thing I have.

Forgot to mention that during my time in Trondheim, I've often drunk two full cans of coffee every day, equaling 2,5 liters of coffee. Sometimes only one can, but still. It's my replacement for alcohol, and shows my insatiability due to my neurotic nature. I often just gotta have something.

Tomorrow there's blast off, and I'll leave. This place has been nice, but I'm stagnating, as there's nothing here for me. It was the same with Grong. I don't do anything here, and am not connected to anything. No work. No activity, besides my writing. So with that in mind, I'm excited to leave. Admittedly, I'm anxious about city driving, but once I've left the tunnels, the ramps, and the highway, then I'll feel much freer. Gotta get up a little earlier. That's problematic, because I'm very sensitive to sleep and the lack thereof. Could tell you stories about that, both from when my brother and I were driving down this christmas, and from our trip to Luxembourg. I'll also stop in the Elf-Valley to sign a housing contract and presumaby receive the keys. The guy, my negro, has given me permission to start moving my stuff already, although I technichally don't move in before the 1st of may. I'm also anxious of talking to people, especially when it's important like this. I'm totally dependent on his well-will. As a light autist, I was diagnosed with Aspergers syndrome in 2015, I've often experienced that people start coming after me for reasons that I can't really understand. Sometimes, it's because they see me as a target, and sometimes, it's because they react to my free nature. They are slaves, and I'm a free man, after all. The housing host is a military man and a milk farmer, the regular and steady type, so his pattern of behaviour is predictable. As long as I remain calm, appear just, rational and reasonable, it's unlikely he'll lay me for hatred. Such men are just, but also very blue pilled. I can't be seen as to break societal standards, too much. Yeah, so I know my fears in regards to this man are unfounded, but still, they're there. A friend of mine once told me that he liked me because of my calm and rational nature. That filled my heart with sorrow, because it was only my persona he saw.

Speaking of breaking societal norms, I've been thinking of writing police-killing stories this night. In once story, the police are strewn about the landscape, and die in pathetic ways (I'm good at describing that) for having disturbed me during the writing of poetry. In another story, a british cop is brutally killed, his children shot in their beds, and his wife raped, strangled and raped again, for questioning my right to free speech. In a story I thought out much earlier, I build a sculpture out of the bodies of a policeman and his children. All this is completely legal, but it risks new bouts of persecution, which could ultimately mean that the blue pilled farmer won't support me anymore. If the police unjustifiably show up at the door, for instance. Also, this is low investment writing, I do it mostly for fun and express frustration. I always get more energetic when I'm about to move. I should really focus on high invesment texts, and focus on writing full novels.

And there my aunt disturbed again in my writing. For the second time in a short while to ask about details, typical of women nagging. I need my own place. What about this diary, then? Isn't that a low investment text? Well, yes, but it's supposed to be a journal of my artistic endavours, where I keep track of what I do. It's just that I'm for the most part am not doing anything artistic now, and won't really be before the moving process is complete in June.

Although I look forward to gain some privacy for the short time when I return to my own flat, I don't look forward to living there, or even entering. In the worst case, the mice will have nested in my clothes again. I will know shortly upon entering, if I see some have gone in the many traps I left, then there might be hell to pay. Also, I don't know how the mold situation is. My hope is that it has camled down, because the mold mainly got really bad because of condensation due to temperature changes, the contstant flux between subzero and warm degrees. It's only 14 days left in that place, before I'll sleep somewhere else and only enter the rat nest to retrive stuff. But I don't know how bad it is. In the worst case, I can seek refugee with my step mother. She's a really kind woman, and would let me stay even for the full period. But I don't want to impose myself on her, and I want a bit of privacy. I look forward to charging the introvert batteries upon returning. Then I'll start moving the stuff in earnest. Since my brother has forbidden me to throw away stuff, I won't spend a day going to the used store, I'll just make the drive up to the Elf-Valley. I can describe the journey and technichalities up there later.

There's also a cactus I left 6 weeks ago. I wonder how it holds up. It will survive. Now, the cover for my smart phone, a Samsung A3 from 2016, has finally fallen off, withered with time. The phone is fine, almost looks pristine. It's been with me for nine years. Some resilience. It's like it's owner.

There's another reason I don't want to be with my step mother, especially at a critical juncture in time. My sister has forbidden me from telling her of the confirmation of her grand daughter, in case she should show up. Both her daughters don't want anything to do with her. Family complications? Yeah, we got them. This is the result of the chaotic boomers.

I want to mention another fear. My hands have always been shaky. This too, goes in the family. My brother, who also has shaky hands, theorized this was a precursor to Parkinson. Now, my hands seem more shaky than before. I can't help the thought that it's caused by mold. Hopefully it's nothing. My hands must be steady upon the wheel, now and in the future. I've only driven the car twice during my six week exodus. Once to visit the burial mounds where I grew up, but I had to turn back because of forest-work, and insteas took a round-journey around (that's what I already said, english language) village. And one to get down here to Trondheim. Soon, Elf-Valley aways, and with that my salvation.

Uff, and now my aunt stepped upon my sacred black metal sweater from Darkthrone when she was gonna detail monger about details. She's very abrupt and clumsy, and moving around stuff with her is a nightmare. Will be good to regain my independence and agency. My mother is more careful and respectful around me this way, but is of a colder demanour.

After this afront, my computer wouldn't let me in because of logic. I restarted, and the password worked. Already there is a password to an account that has ceased to work when I had to clear the browser. Will fix it later. My aunt no informs me my cousin will come to see me this last day here. Maybe he wants to talk about music projects, now that he has a new computer. His girlfriend bought him a new mac for 3000 dollars for his birthday, so I suppose it's not even a computer. There's stupidity in all the abundance. I want a new computer too, with water cooling, for my multimedia projects. No resourcess for that. Maybe I should fetch myself a wealthy woman. Hey, equality between the genders is a thing, right?

The music my cousin makes is mediterranian inspired, often greek sounding, and very modern. Baked in weed music, sometimes. It can be cool, but for now I don't know if there are any of my projects that fit. I now write about giants and Norways in the 50s and the 1800s, oh, and the 30 year war.

Yesterday, I saw two blonde women with blonde children walk around. I thought to myself: This is the ideal woman. The first one had three children, and I thought about adding one to make her even more ideal. The second one had only two children, so those must be doubled. As a compensation, she had a much nicer rear end than the first one. That counts. My racist mulatto fried would be in complete agreement with all these of my considerations. Byåsen is a nice place, even now, but that too, will fade, like Tolkien's elves out of middle earth. Already, half the people you see in a Norwegian city, town or even small-town are foreigners, and most women, even the racially pure ones, are vaccinated. The foreigners must all be removed. I care not about details. Multiculturalism doesn't work and there are ethnic interests. Above all, I fight against the corrupting influence of christianity and the enlightenment. In modern times, this means being opposes to the monstrosity that is the United States. Germans and the French shouldn't be trusted either.

A thought struck me after observing these women. Either a society is on the way down, or it's on the way up. Now we're heading down, and have been doing so for a long time. Only destruction can bring meaningful change. Better to burn in our halls and castles, than to fade away.

Had a brief exchange on X. A girl, claiming to be German in Norway, hoped that everyone would be mixed race by 2050, reacting to a picture of a blonde girl in Norway being overrun by the mongrels on the national day. I told her that's what a self-hating German would say. She posted the picture of a sad monkey, and I told her: Yeah, go be a monkey. She then called herself a magical monkey, and me a nazi. What a cliche. I despise such people on the political left. They are pure poison. Yeah. All Germans too should be deported. Not welcome here, much in part due to their idiocy. But as my brother noted on a foreign trip. Germans are shorter, uglier and have longer noses than us.

I make a habit of blocking all lefties, normies and those who defend the vaccines on X, and even then it's barely tolerable. Most people are cliches. They wear masks created by those more powerful than themselves. Looking at the radical content of this diary, I think I must forget posting it on Substack, although this was the initial plan. This further necessitates a new english language website. It must be bought from Hostinger, due to only them (that I know of) allowing nudity, it must be their website builder, as I don't have the nerves to deal with wordpress. I had planned to buy this new site for black friday, thus cutting the cost for many years of hosting by like 70%, but that's a long wait.

Mighty wanderer, my son. One day he will come to destroy your world. But first I will work to destroy your world, paradigm and worldview. Then he will be birthed in screaming blood, and take from you everything