It’s Tuesday at 3:24 p.m. and I can clearly say that I have done almost nothing. I don’t feel like moving. I don’t feel like doing anything. I haven’t had the slightest bit of energy in the last couple of days. Maybe it’s depression from stopping my addiction to writing 16-page newspapers. Excuse me, you utopian literature journals. Journals of utopian literature? Journals of literature about utopia. And I’m pretty proud of the utopian. Or if I’m supposed to keep my mask on, we are completely proud of the utopian me and my illustrious team.

Dim was at my fence calling my name this morning and I simply ignored him. I figured it was the same thing as with little t and he just wanted a bump before going home to masturbate or whatever he does with my energy when he eats it. This morning I moved in recognition of his voice. Perhaps it’s not really pavlovian if one hears their name called. And perhaps in some ways, wouldn’t it be nice if we lived in a place where people could just stand outside our house and call our names and not only could we hear them above the din of automobile movement, we would not mind coming to the window to hear what important news our friend had to offer. Truly, the only important news that I ever remember hearing was when dim said it to me as a by the way. We were talking about something else and I truly believe he said the word кстати, which is a literal translation of by the way, and he told me that Lena died. That was a by the way from him. It has never occurred to him even one moment as he begs me for enough money for vodka that perhaps some news from the town that might affect me might be interesting to my ears and be worth some money. Not once. Not ever. Nothing but a mook begging for money. If he’s actually not smoking, I think this is a good thing. However, there’s a flaw in this. He’s probably thinking he’s going to be in my life which means I sponsor him in some way. He might have some idea of friendship because he doesn’t have any friends or because of his dependency on male hormones, but what’s really going to happen is his friends will tear him back to the ground just like everyone tears me to hell here. No matter the level of income, spiders or spiders and these baby killers don’t care who they drag down or how much it hurts to get dragged down or how much someone might have wanted to lift them up a little bit.

One of the problems with my energy is that I got bit by this particular son of a bitch who lives in the forest. I believe they are called chiggers but I might be wrong. That would be the English and I don’t particularly care to know the name of this fuck. I know him by sight. He was the one I stared down that day during the sun festival I believe. Same one I just looked right in his eyes and said that you’re not welcome go live your life. Yesterday, I believe I was probably watering setting up the lattice work for the pickles and the grapes. I did a lot of work yesterday. And the team I guess did a lot of work for me too. And then this chigger got me on the left hand. I didn’t even see him or feel him. I was doing something and just wasn’t paying attention and the son of a bitch got me right on the hand. By the time I noticed and moved he was gone and there was a patch of blood where his little sucker had gone in. By evening time my hand was on fire with what felt like the cruelest arthritis known to man. Even the bits of my left hand that have arthritis were doubly inflamed. I didn’t sleep much last night as you can imagine. I tried to do some work but I was just too tired and miserable.

It’s a little better and the journals say that it is two days or so and things will get back to normal. I’ve had these bites on my torso and they itch and there is a lump and you say oh damn, I hate this itchy spot. But it’s not your left hand becoming 80% useless and 170% painful. I guess all of this takes the lesser off of life.

It’s also a gloomy day. It’s cold. I usually use this one pumpkin who is a real complainer. All the rest of the pumpkins are just fine and heat just says gosh darn, give me some water or I’m going to die. He’s a worse complainer than peppers. But I’m a soft touch as you can tell by the level of my kinship in this village, so I believe a little rain must Fall and I can’t see where I’m hurting anything by this generosity habit of mine. I also want to eat something and I have and I for beauty and health. I can’t help it. My grandfather was a doctor, my father was a sportsman and I’m basically both so just hate me for preferring to look at healthy bodies. In fact, I can’t think of a weirder function of government then to make an entire society of non-healthy people simply because it’s easier to make money off them. I think though a doctor has an oath to cause no harm, I would like to hold some of these people by the back of their heads and force them to look for a moment at what they have actually done, just for the moment of Revelation before I smash their heads on the table as many times as my arm can stand doing it. I mean, let’s see if we can get this whole thing off, shall we?

And so here is the thing. We have this weird little mental game that we play. We have this thing called intent. Intent means, you wanted to do this thing that we are talking about. Usually this is crime in what we’re talking about but it could be gift-giving. Did you sit in the kitchen and say, quote I really need to make a pie for my neighbor because I love them so much and I have all of these berries and I just want to show them how full my heart is to know them and to have them in my life.” This would be intent. Intent to do good.

The opposite is where this word usually exists for us. You would have a picture such as a woman lying on the ground with a piece of steel thrust through her eye. And when questioning the person who had done that, this person said, ” yeah, I was sitting in my kitchen trying to prepare some food to eat and the bitch rolled out of her driveway, backed up around the corner and belched automobile smoke into my house for the very last time that I would tolerate it in my life. So I waited for her to come home, I heat it up the end of a piece of rebar until it was glowing and then I kicked in their door and stuck this fucker right through her eye. Sure, it was premeditated and I really, really, wanted to do it.

So here’s the sticky part of this argument. You can’t actually have a crime unless someone does something. You need the action. You can think whatever you want and in fact there is a gigantic difference between a premeditated action and an imprudent mistake. Technically, this is called a tort and it’s called a tort because it’s for sugar heads who destroy things without really understanding what they were doing ever anywhere in their life. Kind of a legal joke there.

So, here we have the issue of doing nothing. What is the truth, have I thought in my mind that I should make a gift to go talk to my neighbor because maybe that would soften them up a little bit? Sure. That was probably the first thing I was thinking of when I walked over to meet them because of a problem between us. This was the car thing. That was 2 years ago by the way. Way more than 2 years ago but two years in change for sure. At some point after that, I did send over a gift. A very nice jar of jam. Homemade. I knew exactly what this was because I had tasted it and it’s a little sweet for my palate but it’s edible and no botulism. I sent that gift with a little letter with a picture diagram showing how they could park their cars and no longer cause me harm. It seems they found this gift and through it away and screamed at the person I sent over with it who after this incident no longer wanted to be a part of my life and stopped cleaning my house. That’s not necessarily a negative result, I’m just saying that if we’re talking about gift thought, that has existed and there has been a premeditated action to go along with it. And like Newton told us, every kind liberal action gets destroyed by the car drivers and ground into the dirt and everything they touch dies.

I think I was also really demotivated today because Quasimodo decided that this was a day to kill everything growing that he didn’t like. He started his display with I believe 17 coughs. Some of that coughing that had me challenged to hold my tongue and then I rementioned the problem with cancer and how debilitating it is to lose all health and how debilitating it was to drag your family down for those last years when you don’t have The bravery to just shoot yourself in the head. I don’t know why we love sick societies so much. That’s bullshit. Not only do I know why we love six societies but you know to inherently, don’t you?

The reason I quit talking to hutch yesterday was that I just couldn’t vegan edit him. Vegan editing is when you read a text and suddenly someone is talking about putting flesh in their mouth and I just reorganized that thought and quickly add in pleasant vegan recipe that works even better. I do this with the Torah as well. It’s true. I know what I’m looking at. I am absolutely sure I know what I am looking at. But still, if you’re going to read every word just for the Zen love of reading the book, just for the connection to this bullshit that is in My DNA, it really sounds a lot better when they talk about the technicalities of roasted eggplant replacing all the animals that they killed for all of the sins that they had and all the meat that they ate until it was coming out their eyes and they just fucking died in the desert because you never knew democracy even for a day.

I couldn’t really vegan edit hutch, though I tried. I asked him what he would do if they pulled his license, and he agreed that he would go home and retire but all of his activities had him alone and on his ass. Even when he dreams of a perfect life, he’s still just sitting on his ass doing nothing. I’m talking about fishing and such but, yeah, everything that was on his mind was about killing living things while sitting on his ass. I guess some people are just born to it because he’s a truck driver and he was in the truck when I talked to him. I think I slipped in that dogs do very well on a vegan diet and I put that into my unionization instigations.

It’s hell being a vegan. It’s almost as bad as being a Jew. It’s almost as bad as being a vegan Jew who doesn’t identify at all as white. I don’t really believe that I’m being controversial. I’m not looking for attention. I just want to like my life and looking in the mirror. I don’t mean this bag of lunch that’s getting smaller every day, I mean look at myself in the eye and asking myself if the ledger sheet works out. Christians can consider that you know someone is at the gate to heaven and they’re looking at their ledger sheet. But most Christians I know fudge the living shit out of their books and they know damn well that they’re lying in more than 50% of the things that they say if not a general clean sweep, first ballot, 100% statistical anomaly called they’ve never spoken a word of Truth in their life. They probably figure they’ll get cut or break like they’ve been cut a break their entire lives for being a drug addict and a fuck up because they join the church afterwards. Talk about friends with benefits. All you have to do is agree that Christ is your savior and every single 9-year-old boy you ever stuck your dick in gets wiped clean from your slate and when you get upstairs, you know that you had a friend on your side and all you have to do is keep paying for him for the rest of your natural life. And they believe this with all their heart and spend all their time beating the living shit out of anybody who doesn’t agree to them.

Do we have any more questions about whether the Russian war in Ukraine is anti-Semitism or not? Because in terms of rules of war or even genuine reasons to start a war, Putin seems to play pretty freely with the concept of war crimes. Ironically, the world has decided that Russians are white people. One of the most amazing developments in the history of the world. Russia had oil under their land and all they had to do was completely poison their entire landscape and they too could get a seat at the table. Their presence at the table created the mafia of the entire planet and the absolute Insanity of US government for the last, I don’t know, check the stats from when Russia got rich and started playing with their money like they thought it was a big joke. They played with all the money in the world as if it was a big joke. Every resource they could get their hands on no matter the ecological damage, just to keep the flow of cocaine and women going. Just the fuel this one lifetime and defectively for this one guy.

He was right. His story is going to remember him. Maybe all of them have been exactly the same and maybe any leader that ever demands that even one of their citizens pick up a gun is exactly the same sort of psychopath. But this fucker did it in the age of the internet and every body has a camera. This guy is doing this in the age of shared information. He’s just blogging from the bunker with real blood. He is just holding on to the illusion of great masculinity even when every last one of us is only looking at a psychopath.

Why do we allow such a war? Why do we allow such a world? Why do we allow so much sickness to be? What is it in our makeup that absolutely demands that we horrifically ruin the health of ourselves? What is it that we are so afraid of?

Another thing I did yesterday is I compiled a book. Can you believe that? Do you know how many books I’ve written? I’m working on what I call the sklad. Склад. It’s where you keep stuff. It’s like the bunker maybe. Or maybe it’s an art gallery. I think I’ve done this thought before. I’m just collecting my work this week wow trying to motivate myself to write letters to the authorities or speak to the authorities in person and invite as much Civic attention as I can. I guess there’s also the local press because of my paying for the collection of garbage. I should probably do that today if they want to come here tomorrow at 3:00 to watch us throw out the garbage. They could get interviews. And I’m thinking about all of this and it’s just too much work. I’ve just made too much work for myself. And I just got the idea in my head that I should practice what I preach and I just stopped the factory.

Now, immediately when I say these words, if you are reading them of course, you might at least be moved by this thought. He just stopped. What does it mean? What’s going on? And what I was thinking is that let’s take a look at what happens if we just fucking quit. Because I fucking quit. I don’t want this. I do not love or admire these people around me. I would never knowingly in my life Curry their favor which is all they want. They are just a bunch of cocksuckers because that’s what God made them. Well, God or the president of Belarus or whoever created this anomaly of flesh that I am forced to look at every day. Look at, listen to, smell or basically endure. I don’t really like living here. I just keep thinking that there will be one day somewhere in the world where these ridiculous cocksuckers will just wake up and say something like I might have a point or maybe ecology does mean something. But then I think back to how many years of my life I lived in that sewer hole. And I had this thought in my head like there should be politics against the oil business but really, I had my life to live and it was just one of those things that you know about life that you really hope everybody will do something about. You’re not going to do anything about it because you’re too busy but somebody should, somebody else really should do this work.

And then what happened. It’s hard to say where the Domino’s fell. The end of the relationship with the girlfriend is usually the marker that I use but there was more than one action. I quit the girlfriend, I quit the apartment and I quit Minsk. And I went back to Pinsk and I started again as my self and it tried to make friends and find a life I didn’t mind living. I did. I found it when I quit looking for friends here because there weren’t any and then I quit spending my money on places to meet friends because they were just making me sick. And then while thinking about not wanting to be sick, and with a completely fucked up leg at that time that prevented me from walking normally, I started hanging out at home and using the internet to study health. That’s where I found my religious devotion to veganism. It seems that once you turn off the meat, amazing things happen to your metabolism. It starts working. And suddenly you realize that you’ve been depressed for a very long time. Depression here is not some clinical psychological term, it is a literal depressing of your physiology for the purposes of making you stupid and more pliable, just like all my neighbors do to me and to each other all day everyday 365 days a year without ever taking a rest. They just drive each other down because they believe for some merciless reason I may never understand, that this makes them good people in the eyes of Jesus. Make everybody Christian means make everybody miserable but nobody ever gets the translation or the understanding of what torture is.

And then the writing started. And let’s be clear about it. I’ve been a writer for a long time but I had never been a vegan writer before. It seems, when you are a non-vegan writer, either there’s money involved or you don’t talk I’m the only money that you can have is if you jack people off. You’re either a whore specifically creating things that illiterate money people can say that their intellectual from reading or you’re not going to get paid. Ecology is anti-money. Honesty is anti-money. Google is apparently anti-money because of how hard they’re making me work right now to create the words anti-money.

But as a non-vegan writer, there was this amazing thing that I had to be doing. “Hey, bro, what you doing?” “Yo, bro, I’m right in a play for the theater.” “Right on.” One of those things. It had to be special. It had to be a very specific piece of writing that I was diving into to take care of because I was being an artist. I had the title of artist. I could walk around and people could look at me and I could justify however weird I was by saying I was an artist. I loved that title so much because it allowed me to be completely insane and out of control for decades. Not violent except when attacked, but I would not say I had the clear head that I have now. This head took some time to build.

So we were in the springtime of the United States presidential election. We were also in the springtime of the run up for the Belarusian presidential election, this means anything to you. And I had all this metabolism going on from clearing out most of the animal fat from my body and removing myself from the general population and all of the torture that comes along with being with them. And suddenly I had all of this energy and I picked up the pen. I guess that’s what happens when you actually have a metabolism or energy from being healthy. I guess you do some of this human motion stuff, even if human motion doesn’t work for you because your leg’s too fucked up to let you.

The funny thing was that once I found Shabbos as a loophole to let me out of my everyday stunt, the whole world broke wide open for me. It was like a flower opening up. I had done some Christian stunts. I wrote a bicycle a certain amount of kilometers every day for a month. I was drinking a lot at the time. It was something to do. This writing was kind of the same thing. It was something to do. That bicycle ride was for cancer. Cancer research, raise money, this sort of business. The piece of writing was just basically me voting as loud as I possibly could. The point was to have a good solid look at what was going on and see what the real story was behind the elections. Boy, am I glad I took a look at that shit show. What happiness comes from listening to American politics for a year. But not to mention our own fiasco here in Belarus and the jailing of my friend the actor just for always showing up in public so that nobody would ever forget that he was there. I guess they martyred him.

And then we’re right back to veganism because when the next year came around, there I was in February trying to speak to my ex partner about a project for a ecology that I wanted to do. Boy, was I enthusiastic. Like all of my plans, it was Giant. We raise awareness and ask people to change their personal habits. We would get the kids involved and we would send people down to the river to clean up. Oh yeah, there was more. I wanted to put fresh bread and maybe fresh pizza at the market but the pizza was not my idea and I don’t think it was going to work. And a delivery service by bicycle. Gosh darn it, everything a healthy Town needed like fresh locally grown vegetables delivered to you by bicycle just as an entity in the middle of a sleepy little town that was not allowed to care about covid at all. Everyone was simply told that it didn’t matter.

So, blah blah blah the foots and my life and whatever but I’m still vegan. I’m vegan because I’m supposed to be vegan. I get poisoned so much, it’s not even funny. I mean, I don’t get poisoned as much as people who live in town and just basically live in automobile fumes 24/7, but the noise pollution from people that just can’t be happy in their skin has this neighborhood a complete misery to be a part of. There isn’t today that they don’t spoil and the more you get to know Russians in general and the psychology or psychosis, you just never see anything but killing for many of them. They really are like a bunch of chickens and they walk over and just peck you to death looking for something to eat.

So, I don’t really know what to say. I just really don’t like living here. And at the end of the day, I think the genuine realization is that if you create anything beautiful or even attempt to have anything nice, one of these Slavic Christians will just take it away from you. They will believe in all of their soul that they have the right to cause harm. And this entire Christian ethos of abusing thy neighbor works so well in the automobile and oil Business that it seems that the two were destined to be together even from the beginning of time. Auto fumes are the drug of choice to keep slaves in line. The smell of gasoline is exactly the smell of money and I am as sick of this as you can possibly imagine.

So, I write this letter to the police complaining of torture. But then, how many times have the police tortured me or the courts? How many women have tortured me? How many men? How many doctors? How many people here just stand next to a guy who smells good and has a metabolism and an active mind who just cannot help themselves from pecking at me. I don’t know how my next door neighbor or any of my neighbors can take it. I mean, I know that they are all car people because the only way that they can feed their fat wives is to continue working and their fat wives spend their entire lives packing at men to make them work for them. Even if the men can’t walk and are just begging them to be left alone by fat black chickens.

I think the thing about being vegan is you begin to understand what life is like when you say that you don’t want meat. I don’t know if I can intellectualize this or explain it clearly. It’s like that conversation between the father and the daughter where the father says that you take everything that’s ugly out of the picture so that everything that remains is beautiful and the thing that you take out is called evil. This is incredibly true pretty much everywhere. It’s kind of like the sculpture of David chipped away the disgusting horror of life on the planet Earth and only left a healthy Man standing.

You can stop eating meat. You can. You can do anything you want. But there is a Newtonian reaction when you remove meat from a Simeon body that was designed and evolved by God to eat vegetation. We are really not good hunters naked and all by ourselves. But any asshole can pick up and eat a plant. If you’d like to know the evolution of man, grow a garden that has some food in it and there it is right before your eyes. Human food doesn’t move and that’s what we built for.

Then things get really interesting. Because the entire world changes before your very eyes. You have to be kind of strong of character. Your friends are going to tear you down. They’re going to laugh at you. Jesus, you are going to become an lgbq black Jew in about 5 seconds. You are going to be the punch line in Polish jokes. You are going to find a bunch of zombie chickens pecking at you. And the whole shit of it is, you’re going to see who your Friends are for the first Time.

I’ve told the baseball story a hundred times about my friend Mike recognizing in a second that I had quit drinking and that through clear eyes I would see exactly what the people look like I was playing ball with. He advised me never to stop drinking again and if I have to, stay the hell away from your previous friends. Ironically, this is also what they tell you in 12 step programs. Just stay away from the people that drag you down into the shit because they have no desire to get out of the shit and all they want is your company to justify their existence. If they can find someone to talk to, that means they’re a person. Of course, nobody wants to talk to me.

Nobody really cared that I stopped hanging out in public places. I didn’t drink. I quit drinking too. I quit coffee shops and I quit drinking and I quit meat and I just hung out by myself and started having a wonderful time. Occasionally I would fail at female company and occasionally I would meet some ex-girlfriends who had been torn down into the shit and pecked to death by Russian Christians until there was really nothing left of them to want to be with. They were nothing but hatred and blackness. There was no more light in their eyes. Everything was just a matter of carving yourself out you’re pound of flesh and then keeping people as far away from you as possible.

And all of this kind of explains the mood. The sun’s popped out and there has been a few drops of rain. That one pumpkin plant can bitch and complain. I could go out and make it rain but it hasn’t really been hot today. In fact there’s only been a few hot moments and if I’m not complimenting myself, some of those trees that had burnt tops are starting to grow higher on those tops. This tells me something good about regular watering. I could do it today but maybe I won’t.

And it turns out I wrote a book this year. It’s not the book of journalism about living with these cocksuckers. I’m afraid all of this is just millions of words of wasted art. There is no possible way to communicate with them because they are not people. They are not anything that anyone would call a person although they themselves believe they are. In their minds they are inviolate, the highest example of evolution the planet earth has ever seen. They are omnipotent with other people’s work. They are above reproach. As my mother used to say, truly, their shit does not stink. They relish their pigdom and chickendom and to live their lives as blind as a potato bug who just clings to their disposable garbage dump while feeding themselves without doing a lick of work to help. Pure evil parasitism. Rotten from the top to the bottom. And the stench of gasoline is more important to each and every one of them than to have a sense of smell, use of your eyes or ears or even a single microgram of common Sense.

Like I said, I like the way I live because I feel good. I like the way I live because I like how resilient my body is. I like how I live because I can sometimes experience moments of real Joy or love or empathy or sympathy. And I seem to have the energy to create things and my ideas seem to be really beautiful when they come to fruition. It’s not Donald Trump narcissism. It’s not narcissism at all. It’s just taking a little pride of workmanship from doing a good job. It’s just observing the Zen of the folly of human activity and the necessity of work. I just grow my own food because I think we should. And I write because I believe we should be literate and think about what we do and how we live. And I guess I protest because I live with the scum of the Earth and if I don’t try, it’s sometimes seems that nobody will.

I am extremely tired of living here. Maybe I’m really tired of living. Maybe I’m tired of trying in a world of complete and utter shit. Maybe I’m just so fucking tired of having my days ruined that there’s no point staying on this planet anymore. Because the one thing I know for sure, the disease that is depressing and suppressing me exists everywhere in the world where Christian oil has spread. Everywhere where business is deemed important, there is no such thing as life and therefore there is no such thing as life on the planet Earth.

It’s easy mathematics. You take me out of the picture, and the garden is dead in about 2 weeks. I stopped watering, and it’s a fucking desert again just like it was before I got here. And it won’t mean a fucking thing to my neighbors. They just want something fresh and clean to peck. Or, they put on their best makeup in the hope that they might actually have a business meeting one time in their lives so they could know what it feels like to be respected.

I’m sorry I came. Or, maybe somebody will read these words and catch a clue and help out in the fight to bring some life back to our lives.