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EQ (Emotional Intelligence)

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EQ (Emotional Intelligence)

In 2015 PIXAR released a movie titled “Inside Out”. The movie explores what goes inside a little girls head. It is staged inside the limbic system – the part in your brain that processes feelings and emotions. It personalized the 5 main emotions that everybody has namely; Joy, Anger, Disgust, Fear and Sadness. Joy is golden, spirited, motivated, overzealous, unsuppressed and delightful. Sadness is blue, soppy, depressed, overwhelming and deflated. Fear is purple, nervy, unsettled, worrisome, unfulfilled and insecure. Disgust is green, finicky, stylish, assured and confident. Anger is red, unreasonable, self-serving, tantrum throwing and unstable. The movie explores emotion regulation, the purpose of emotions and their functions, impulse, imagination, the amygdala (the fight or flight organ) the subconscious mind and the importance of sleep. It is an amazing movie – my all-time favorite without a doubt. It garnered universal acclaimed from critics all around the world who praised the movie for its impeccable story-telling, originality, imagination, research into neuroscience and the voice artists. It is acknowledged as one of the greatest amination movies of all time. The movie follows Riley an 11 year old girl whose world suddenly turns upside down when she has to move into unexplored territory, a new environment – the big city. Everything is so new to Riley and her emotions are all over the place. In her previous life she used to live in the countryside where there was space, a big yard, a conservative neighborhood where everyone knew and assisted one another. Hockey was her passion and she was in a team that was doing pretty well. She had a best friend that she loved wholeheartedly – her life was perfect! However her present was met with a lot of uncertainty. She now lived in house that was crammed and sandwiched into two other houses that had no space. The environment was clustered, loud and busy. The emotion Anger is elated when Riley’s family enter the city for the first to a loud and busy environment stating “These are my type of people.”! Now Riley has no friends or a hockey team – she has to start all over again. It is worth noting that Riley’s most dominating emotion before the big move to the city has been Joy.

The emotions Joy, Anger, Disgust, Sadness and Fear are stationed in the mind’s headquarters (Limbic System) and they influence Riley’s actions via a control panel. All the memories of the day are stored each night to long-term memory. These long-term memories create her 5 “core memories” and they are represented as islands because they form her personality. These 5 islands stand alone because they represent who Riley is to the core. In the context of the mind, the islands represent the hippocampus which is responsible for memory in the human brain. The memories that are moved to long-term memory each night represent habits and the basal ganglia which is the element in the brain that helps with habits. Now, that Riley has to form new habits, her islands are in danger of being dismantled. Which is what happens as the story continues. The first island to go is “Friendship Island” – now that she is in a new environment, she has no friends and thus affecting her overall personality – she is left weak and vulnerable. Hockey Island is the next island that crumbles. Lacking a self-campus and self-identity, an idea comes from Anger that she should run away and go back to Minnesota to start new core memories – I mean that’s where she grew up and life was perfect before mom and dad decided to move! She steals money from her mom’s purse and heads to the bus station. It is interesting to note, the idea comes from Anger and by trait Anger is passionate, self-serving and in the moment. Anger’s idea was fueled by the Amygdala. The Amygdala has the tendency to hijack and bypass the neocortex which is the thinking brain. Riley knew what she was doing was wrong hence when she stole the money she was in stealth mode, aloof, making sure that her mother doesn’t see her. The Amygdala by trait acts! Hence it’s called the fight or flight organ. Tears are usually triggered by the amygdala, it is a very sophisticated organ. The Amygdala can house memories and response repertoires that we enact without quite realizing why because the shortcut from the Thalamus to the Amygdala completely bypasses the neocortex. When this decision was made, Anger didn’t think about the repercussions because he is so shortsighted, he was impulsive and the Amygdala fueled and gave life to this idea – resulting in Riley’s reaction.

This action nearly results in the destruction of “Family Island” luckily Sadness comes in to save the day. For the duration of the movie, Joy makes it her duty to keep Sadness off the control panel as her and the other emotions don’t understand Sadness purpose in Riley’s life. Towards the end of the movie all that changes as she gives Sadness the podium. The change of heart comes from her journey with Sadness when both of them were sucked out of Headquarters. On their journey back to headquarters Joy, sees Sadness’ value as she regulated and helped the friends who were helping the two emotions – it was special. When Riley was on the bus awaiting for it to depart, she was emotionless and turning black inside. All the other emotions couldn’t do anything to save the situation. Sadness stepped up to the control panel and Riley snapped up and stopped the bus as it was leaving requesting to get off. She got home to the sight of her worried parents and started telling them what had happened (Sadness was still on the control panel). Riley was honest, she told her parents that she missed Minnesota, that she missed her friends and her previous life, she communicated all this in tears. Her parents listened with emphatic eyes and embraced her with a big hug – they further communicated that they too missed Minnesota and their old lives. Something that affirmed Riley’s sentiments and made her feel better. Both parents embraced Riley, it was a warm moment, it was a beautiful family hug. Sadness called Joy to the panel and they joined to create a new, cemented “family core memory”. The reason sadness is so important in life is because, it forces you to slow down, it forces you to contemplate about things, it helps you focus, it helps you organize or reorganize life and it enables you to keep moving forward. Sadness is the hero in any story.

This intelligent movie communicates the importance of emotion regulation and intelligence and why it might be better than IQ. A test was conducted on 4 year olds to test impulse control and delay gratification. The tests were conducted on the children of Stanford graduates which implies that the children were from good families. It was a simple test; an examiner would leave one marshmellow on the table instructing the kid that if he could wait until he comes back that he would have two marshmellows – but if he can’t wait, then he can have that one. He would then exit the room to see what the kid would do. A grueling and brutal test for any 4 year old I assure you! Some kids distracted themselves by closing their eyes, tried to sleep, sang loudly or avoidance – they simply looked the other way and acted as if it didn’t exist. For their reward, the examiner would come in 10-15 minutes later and give them two marshmellows. While other kids simple couldn’t wait and just ate that one marshmellow. This test is interesting because it provides insights to the kid’s character and the trajectory that the child will probably take through life. 14 years later the kids were tracked down again to see the progress in their lives. The emotional and social difference between the grab-the-marshmallow preschoolers and their gratification-delaying peers was dramatic. Those who had resisted temptation at four were now, as adolescents, more socially competent: personally effective, self-assertive, and better able to cope with the frustrations of life. They were less likely to go to pieces, freeze, or regress under stress, or become rattled and disorganized when pressured; they embraced challenges and pursued them instead of giving up even in the face of difficulties; they were self-reliant and confident, trustworthy and dependable; and they took initiative and plunged into projects. And, more than a decade later, they were still able to delay gratification in pursuit of their goals. The third or so who grabbed for the marshmallow, however, tended to have fewer of these qualities, and shared instead a relatively more troubled psychological portrait. In adolescence they were more likely to be seen as shying away from social contacts; to be stubborn and indecisive; to be easily upset by frustrations; to think of themselves as “bad” or unworthy; to regress or become immobilized by stress; to be mistrustful and resentful about not “getting enough”; to be prone to jealousy and envy; to overreact to irritations with a sharp temper, so provoking arguments and fights. And, after all those years, they still were unable to put off gratification.

Belo Horizonte hosted the semi-finals between host nation Brazil and Germany. Heading into the match it was tipped at 50/50 and the Brazilians were relying on the support of their fans to tip the result their way. Brazil hadn’t lost in Belo Horizonte in over 39 years. Brazil had notable names missing through suspension or injury like their leader Thiago Silva who was suspended courtesy of a second yellow he incurred in the quarter-finals and of course their best player – the sensational Neymar Jr. who incurred a tournament ending injury. However, the stadium would be filled with more than 50 thousand Brazilians – what could go wrong? For the match they instilled David Luis as the captain and he was going to lead them to the finals! The two teams came out to mark the commencement of the game but before that they had to sing their respective national anthems. The Brazilian players sang loudly and passionately as if to compensate for the loss of their two biggest stars – the stadium was a buzz and vibrating and some of the players even cried because of the ecstasy. By contrast the Germans were businesslike, they looked focused and motivated and never exerted or strained their vocal chords for the anthem. The game commenced, the stadium was loud, all in support of the home nation Brazil. The fans expected a good game. The pressure was on and emotions where all over the place. Brazil were nervy with the ball. David Luis as the captain was too enthusiastic as he vacated his spot in the heart of defense to assist with the offensive play. Marcelo playing on the Left side of defense was too industrious. Maicon was passed his peak. Luis Gustavo and Fernaldihno didn’t complement each other. All this meant was for Germany to keep shape and stay calm – Brazil were too out of control. 29 minutes later the scoreline was 5-0 in favor of the Germans. Even before half-time, the game had already been decided. With the final already secured, the German coach omitted his best defender at Half-time so he can rest. The game finished 7-1, the heaviest score-line in a World Cup semi-final match – Brazil were humiliated!

The ability to regulate one’s emotion is a priceless asset. An asset the Brazilian team didn’t have. Maybe, the Brazilian women’s team would have done better. This is because women are better “Emotion managers”. They use their prefrontal cortex efficiently. This starts off when they are young girls playing and interacting with one another. On the playground, girls prefer to play in small groups. This helps with engagement and an overall serenity in the group. Boys on the other hand prefer big groups and numbers, this is because boys are more competitive. By trait, boys are threatened by anything that might challenge their independence, while girls are more threatened by a rupture in their relationships. So when a boy gets hurt during play, he does the honorable thing and moves aside so that play can continue as opposed to girls – girls tend to discontinue play to attend to the person who got hurt. I doubt the women’s team would have been beaten 7-1. They should have stayed together on the pitch where it matters most. The men’s team lost mentality and emotionally before the game even commenced. They played football with the Amygdala – they played with feelings and emotions! And because Germany where playing football with the Neocortex (the thinking brain), they saw the frailties and instability of the Brazil team. Watching Brazil play in that match was like watching “The Wolf of Wall Street”, with David Luis as Jordon Belfort – impulsive, idiotic and expedient! Emotional illiteracy is dangerous!

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ADULTERY

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ADULTERY

I love my husband. He is everything I want and need. He brings so much meaning to my life. We have two wonderful children that I adore. They are my life. By normal standards, I have everything money, safety, security, two perfect children and a loving husband. I should be happy and fulfilled. I have a great career doing something that stimulates my mind, something that I love. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. As of late, my energy is low and I have a problem motivating myself. My life has become bland and insipid. Everything in my life is ritualistic and passive. As a young girl, I thought marriage would give me a happily ever after. Not that I don’t love my husband because I do, he is so perfect and he treats me so well. I honestly don’t know what I would do without him. Still, the question remains. Is this it? Is this my life now? Everything has become chore. The spontaneous life has receded to the past. We don’t have sex that often and when we do I fake orgasms. I wonder if he notices. I doubt it, I’ve been faking for so long that it has become impossible to detect. I have become an expert liar, the moaning’s are now automatic. Not that it’s a bad thing, I have to do it, it reassures him of a good job. To be fair, he sometimes does a great job but it’s in the minority. I remember a time when we used to have sex every day. A time when he drove me crazy. A time when he used to make me come multiple times in a session. A time when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. A time when pleasing him was top of the agenda. A time of imagination, oral examinations and forbidden sex positions. A time of clarity and excitement. When everything made sense. When my life was easy to love and loving myself was easier.

I understand that we have been married for 10 years now and the romantic phase has to die down. That we need to be responsible and competent adults. But it’s not about the sex. It’s not even about my relationship. On the contrary, my relationship with my husband is perfect. We have an understanding and we are both happy with one another. It’s something else. A void. I feel like I am living a lie. I feel like a robot, passively getting work done. At times I am emotionless. I don’t get pleasure out of life anymore. I feel overwhelmed by life. I am confused and it makes me sad. What do you give a woman who has everything? Am I ungrateful? No. However I am close to apathy. My low levels of energy are making it hard for me to participate in life. It’s like my body is in comatose, completely paralyzed by the sadness in my soul. Maybe I am depressed. Maybe depression is a real condition. It wasn’t something I took seriously but how do I explain the apathy I feel? Do I even want to participate in this mindless, passive, repetitive mode we call life? Unfortunately, I have to. For my husband, my children, my family so we can navigate the world successfully. So I will just have to power through and be supermom, do it with great zeal and enthusiasm, with a smile, no one can know how I feel. I imagine it would be hard for my husband and I don’t want to trouble him. I don’t want him to think that his not doing enough because he is. I don’t want him to blame himself for my lack of happiness. Besides, depression is not a real condition. We all have bad days. Maybe, it’s a phase, I’ve just recently turned 30 and the second phase of my life is in commencement. Perhaps, I am in mourning for younger self. I don’t know. I just feel empty and dead inside. Despite the passing time and the orbiting of the planet my life is fixed and stagnant at one point.

I met Steven at his suite for an interview for the newspaper. We used to date when we were in High School, 16 and in love nothing could come between us. He was my first love, the person who made me conscious of this abstract thing call love. He is now a respected member of the socialist party. He is powerful. I can’t wait to meet with him. The newspaper sent me over to cover the story of his alleged infidelity, the story is making rounds in the country and we want to cover his side. It was hard getting him to commit to the story, we had to promise heaven. The chance to put things straight was too good for him to pass up on, we had to appeal to his ego and narcissistic side. The rumours were rouge and good PR was needed to spin the story, at least that’s what his advisors would have advised him. 14:00 struck and I went to his suite to meet up with him. He had grown up and had traces of someone I used to know. Was he the dashing young boy I fell in love with? Of course he was a man now and his attributes screamed that. He was well defined, groomed, trimmed and slim. He looked so good in a suit. He didn’t look at all like the boy who used to fondle with my breasts. We exchanged pleasantries and sat down. We engaged in small talk and were nostalgic about the past before we could get down to business. Our meeting was upbeat and energetic. I felt like I was in the moment. It was as if the world were moving again. We came around to the infidelity and he responded that the news were all false. He told me that it was just a political campaign meant to tarnish his name with the elections around the corner. He knew the alleged woman but not enough to be a lover or even a friend. They just met at two separate public functions and enjoyed each other’s company. He explained that he had no contact with her whatsoever. With that omission, the interview was over and we decided to talk off the record as friends. He asked me if I was happy. Reluctant, I replied yes. I could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t content with my response but he didn’t want to impose himself. He told me that he was not happy. That the pressures of life are getting to him. His work and the need to be exemplary is exhausting. The political games. His life splashed on the newspapers and prime time bulletins like it was entertainment and the constant pressure from his wife who seems to like the benefits that come from being the wife of a highly esteemed and powerful man. To be fair, who wouldn’t? The money, the designer clothes, the parties, the fame, the respect. Who would want to give that away? And for what? Because you’re depressed? That is not a real condition. People are dying in Africa. He told me that he feels trapped in his life that he feels like a slave. That he has lost his passion and most of the time he is just on auto-pilot. There was a silence on the table for a while and then he continued. He said that he recognizes that same sadness in my eyes to which I didn’t respond. I told him that it was a great meeting and that we should meet up again. He agreed. I stood up and he showed me to the door. Just when I was about to go out, I had the sudden urge to kiss him. I kissed him and he seemed to go with it. He passionately pushed my body towards him and held me tightly as he closed the door. We continued kissing and it was so hot and steamy. It was intense and I was so horny. I displaced my lips on his and kissed him on the neck while I took his shirt off. I continued with the kissing process and made my way to the torso. I kneeled down and took off his pants and started giving his oral pleasure. He held my head and controlled the motion of the strokes. The movements started of slow and gradual and then sped up with intensity. He was groaning and I could tell that he was about to climax and I let him come in my mouth – it was intoxicating!

Steven makes me feel like I can fly. He makes me feel like I am free. I have found a new lease of life. Yesterday was exciting. The thrill, the adrenaline rush of being caught out. The irony of the interview we set up. He understands me and how I am feeling. I wonder if he talks to his wife about his concerns and his feelings. I can’t believe I gave him a blow job. On the first day? It was like I was possessed by a love demon who took a hold of my body. When he caressed my breasts something in my head exploded and I was no longer in control. I was listening to a song by Amy Winehouse called Love Is Blind and it dominates how I feel because I relate. In the song Amy is unapologetic about his infidelity. She is ironic and condescending. Her arrogance is admirable. Her justifications are laughable. She’s not really explaining herself to anyone. She is at peace with all the repercussions. On the famous song she states “You are my everything, he means nothing to me. I was thinking about you when I came.” I love the song but don’t agree with the tone of the song. I care for the repercussions. I love my husband, I love my children and I don’t want to lose our family. However, I was thinking about my husband when Steven came in my mouth. The experience helped and I came home later that day rejuvenated. My husband and I made love and I moaned with pure pleasure. He sent me to the moon. Maybe my interaction with him is good for my marriage. I want to see where this will end. He called me today and we agreed to see each other next week at a different hotel. I feel good about it.

We met at the designated hotel. He was so cold and distant. What had sparked his indifferent mood today? Was the world out for his head again? The hypocrisy of hotel rooms. On my way to the room I was in incognito, I had my shades and scarf on despite the fact that it was 36 degrees. Surely, that constitutes as suspicious behaviour. I didn’t think things through, I was too locked up in my own world that I failed to look at things on an objective criteria. The woman in the elevator besides me at 13:00 pm is surely like me. Why conceal myself? Why hide what I came to do in room 424 of this hotel room when everybody knows. The staff surely know, the concierge, the receptionist, I am just another number. We all have the same problems but act like ours is different. While in the room with Steven I think about how amateurish I must have been and vow to do better next time. It didn’t take long for me and Steven to get intimate. He had an aggressive demeanour this time and he went on the offense. He pressed me up against the wall and started kissing me passionately. He started with my neck and then proceeded to the lips while he took off my shirt and bra. Now half naked, I took off my skirt while he also undressed. He carried me to the bed and started kissing and sucking my breasts. It was slow gradual kissing until he made it to my torso. At this time I was overcome with pleasure and I wanted him to go down on me. He took off my panties and turned me around. I was on all fours. I had the stature of a dog, a bitch. In that position, he penetrated me from behind not in my vagina but anus. It was painful and yet pleasurable. It was like walking on hot coal, it burns the flesh but the adrenalin rush is at its peak and telling you to go on. The moans and groans where real emanating from a real place – pain but I didn’t want him to stop. And so he kept pounding and pounding. To keep myself from screaming I put a pillow on my face and then it was done. He signalled that he was coming and I let him come on my breasts. Afterwards, we just laid on the bed for a while. We didn’t engage in a dialogue, the room was quiet. He got up from the bed and started putting on his clothes back. He then made a contribution on how to remove the odour. The advice was that I take a shower first thing when I got home. He also talked about the stains that will undoubtedly make their appearance on my underwear. He seemed like a professional. Did he do this on a regular basis? Am I one of his targets, his victims? I was thoughtful. What happened here wasn’t love. He humiliated me. He objectified me. He violated me and left me with no dignity. I was his slave and he did what he wanted with me. In my mind, I told myself that I wasn’t going to see him again. That it was over. Until, he said “this was fun. We should do this again.” I replied, “yes it was fun and most definitely we should.” I wasn’t lying, I would like to see him again and yes it was fun. It was my first anal experience and of course it was difficult but it was new and fresh. In that moment, I was alive and engaged in the process. Pain notified me that I was present and it felt good. It will be even better next time.

I am in a better mood these days. I wonder if my husband and children have noticed. I wonder if I am exhibiting strange behaviour. I feel like I am on top of the world. I feel in control. I see more colour in my life. Not that I am condoning my adultery but my sex life with my husband is better. Our love-making sessions are reunions that are breath-taking. They are unbelievable. I don’t have to fake orgasms because they are real now. I now have an appetite for sex and so it’s frequent. Before we would have sex twice in a month if we were lucky. Nowadays twice is the minimum requirement for the week. I am sure my husband is suspicious but he doesn’t say anything so it’s fine. Orgasms are a beautiful thing. It’s like an explosive in your body. An explosion of pleasure. Those few seconds are the most meaningful of life. Orgasms bring dimensions and edge to life. Orgasms give meaning to life. I sometimes think of Steven when I have an orgasm with my husband. It’s that Amy Winehouse curse, I am also starting to be unapologetic about my infidelity. It makes the lives of the people all around me better and most importantly I am happy. It has been a month since I have met up with Steven. I know I have to end things with him, he has become an addiction. What we have can’t be right for the immediate people in our lives. What we have is destined to fail. The problem is that I think I love him. I can’t stop thinking about him. He is all I think about. I am conflicted, torn in between. I have this fantasy that I want to explore with him. I plan to tie him up on the bed, get naked and sit on his face until he gives me multiple orgasms. I want to make him my bitch. I want to make him submit. I want to dominate him. My efforts thus far have been insufficient and my plan is in vain. I am meeting him on Thursday at his office and I don’t think that will be possible. This will be the last time I see him, he doesn’t know but I do. I love my family and I can’t carry on risking the life I worked so hard to build.

He told me to get dressed and that his secretary would be here soon. He was pensive and moved with great urgency. I lay naked on the couch and didn’t take him too seriously. What makes our affair great is the danger, the sense that it is forbidden and could damage a lot of lives. That is the pulse that kept everything moving. The chance to live life dangerously. It was seductive. It had a lure that both of us couldn’t resist. The fact that I am laying on his couch naked with his secretary on the way to the office, doesn’t move me, it doesn’t scare me. I am accustomed to the danger. Besides there are locks for unrequired entry and these locks seem to work just properly. We just had another session of mind blowing animal sex. We had a time constraint this time so we had to be efficient. Because I was adamant that this would be my last time doing this, I had to lead procedures. On the last run, I wanted to be ravished and pleasured to the maximum. I got in his office and sat on the chair. We engaged in pointless dialogue until his secretary went out. He stood up and went to the door to lock it. By the time he locked the door, I was already half-naked. My top was off indicating, “Let’s go!” He rushed to me and pressed his body onto mine and started kissing me. He kissed my lips, neck and made it to my breasts to which he caressed and fondled with them. He started kissing and sucking on my nipples, flicking them in a move that drove me absolutely wild. Sensing I would lose control. I interrupted him and created space in between us. I took off my skirt and panties and opened my legs. An invitation he took with both hands. He went down on me. It was the best cunnilingus I have ever had. With the tip of his tongue he stimulated my clitoris. Like a painter, the great Leonardo Da Vinci he moved his tongue left, right, and left, right in a gradual and clockwise manner and then it was rigorous and fast paced it left my mind in tatters. It was pulsating. He was concise, so engaged and he made me come. His tongue was like the tongue of the serpent. I was paralyzed by the pleasure. I indicated that I want him to come into me. While I masturbated, he took off his pants and underwear and in missionary position he started penetrating me. Sensing that he would come soon, I switched positions and went on all fours. He continued with the penetrating while I was groaning and moaning without a care in the world. At that moment I was free and liberated. I resided in the stars. I resided in forever. I was on the moon and it was pure pleasure. He signalled that he wanted to come. So I told him to wait for a bit. I adjusted myself and kneed down to give him a blow job. He moaned and groaned with his hands on my head controlling the motion. He told me he couldn’t hold it anymore and that his coming. I didn’t want him to come in my mouth so I stopped the activity. He came on my face. It was beautiful. It signalled the climax of our union. Of course he didn’t know that. It never occurred to him that it would be the last time seeing me naked.

My German girl

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My German girl

I met her early this year when I was doing my hero things. Hero things is a code name for hustling. I wanted a bit of capital to start a project that I was ruminating about for sometime. The Universe responded by bringing this cool Russian guy in my life. He was upbeat and enthusiastic. He had a good energy, he was positive, optimistic. And so we talked, he had 3 shops in the Sandton mall and needed someone to push product for him. The profit margins were good and so I accepted. I figured a couple of weeks pushing product wouldn’t hurt. On his payroll, he had this hot girl who made time slow down. Naturally, I inquired about her from one of the managers in the shop. Just to go back in the story, this manager guy was a cool guy and in one of our conversations I remember telling him about my love for everything German. So when I asked about that girl, he was generous with the information. He said “Her name is Shira, she has been working with us for a while now. She is a senior here and one of our top performers. She easily makes 100K in a month. She was born in Germany and stayed there until her teens and then she moved up in Isreal.” I responded “Wow! Great, then maybe she can teach me German!” I saw a real opportunity with her. It would be difficult but not impossible. With a few co-ordinated moves I would draw in her attention. She was beautiful, dark brown eyes, full eyebrows and her hair was black and long. She was a mixture of more than two tribes. She was different. Not quite Caucasian, her skin color was in the minority like Spanish-latino. She was exotic. Man, I had never seen beauty like hers. Her accent was nothing I’ve ever heard before. Her height was average, not too tall and not too short. Make-up made her the best looking woman in the world. I was impressed. She was indifferent towards me, I remember when I was playing some Kanye West in the shop, in the morning while I was checking inventory, I was playing for me, the volume was low-pitched and she came in and told me to not play gangster music in the shop. I was perplexed. I mean “Late Registration” Kanye, gangster music? I chuckled because I had some Dr. Dre and Jay- Z on my phone. If she wanted gangster music, I could show her. But I listened to her plead and changed to Amy Winehouse. When I got home, I thought about that interaction. And yea, Kanye West “Late Registration” would sound like gangster music for a German-Israeli woman, especially considering the host who’s playing the music, I was too edgy and with spikes all over and she knew that I came from Alex, Gomora. Still, she didn’t project a lot of things. Unlike some other fool I was working with who was condescending, he was like “You are not what I expected” and I responded lightly and with curiosity: “Why, because I know words?” He laughed nervously and the realization came to his mind that I had put him in his place. Sometimes you need your ego to put fools in their place. Soon enough word got out that I had put the mighty Chase in his place. This was a big deal because he was one of the managers in the shops. He was feared and used a lot of intimidation techniques. I think it was an “Alpha” thing for him, he loved ruling with an iron fist. This made him feel strong and respected. He would take digs at your confidence and later assassinate your character. I knew his type the first day I cast eyes on him. He wouldn’t do such to me, his not my boss, in fact no one is. I am here because my skills benefit the company. No insecure man is going to project his feelings of insecurity on me. After the interaction, I was a magnat for the female employees. It was like I had slayed the big bad wolf. I was the hero! They loved being around me. I made them feel safe. It was an attraction thing, the sexual tension was high, it was hot, it was intoxicating, there was life in the place and that’s how I reeled Shira in.

One day I was busy with in inventory and I was playing Ludovico Einaudi, a piano wizard and she was like you playing great stuff. And I was like yes, I got you now. In my head of course, because I understood that she was making the initiative and well, my moto in life is go with it. Let the stars lead you to where you are going. Go with the wind. Be like water my friend. I knew she was interested because was giving me nervous energy and it made her behave in a way that she couldn’t understand. She was ruled by the collective unconscious and she was possessed and locked in a paradigm that she couldn’t comprehend. She was in a spell. In fairyland. Far, far away. And so I understand baby girl be grumpy and act out. I know I am the one in your mind. Your subconscious, your reality you locked in your own time frame. In different frequencies, different vibrations your being tells you to take control of me. Let’s do this man, I will give you an audience. You pretty, I like you. Let’s see what happens. She took my phone, stating she wanted to see my music. She saw Mozart, she saw Beethhoven, Strauss, Vivaldi, Adele, Amy Winehouse, Moonchild, Pachelbel Cannon, Jay Z, J. Cole, Solange, Al Green, Alicia Keys, Wale, August Green, Jill Scott, Kendrick Lamar, Ludovico Enaudi, Kanye West, Ray Charles, Josiah Disciple, Nina Simone, Common, Charles Mingus, Lauryn Hill, Nora Jones, Lira, Roberta Flack, Dr. Dre, The Delfonics, Pharrell Williams. I felt it was a good list. It is diversified. She compliments me on a couple of albums. I respond, I am flattered, let’s see where this goes. She minimizes the screen and locates my digital library and she sees a lot of Classics and then she locates the one called the Kuma Sutra and her eyes lighted like Christmas day in the movie Home Alone. Oh, you have “Kuma Sutra, she says. I reply,” of course”. “Cool” she responds. She puts my phone down and leaves. I knew I would be hearing from her again. A couple of days later, I got a text “send me the Kuma Suthra”. I knew who it was from and I wasted no time and did what it instructed. I think I have a chance with this hot German lady. It was incredible. It was great. She was a bit older than me. She went to the Gym. She did Yoga. She was fit. Great natural breasts. Wonderful buckets of life. Juicy. Succulent. Sourcy. Delicious. I took kneed of the indicator and followed suite. I attacked like Manchester United in the champions league final in 1999 against Bayern Munich. Bring out Ole, let’s push and he got us that great goal. Ole, Ole, Ole! She started telling me about her fantasies. She started to get sexual. She stated that she wanted to sit on my face. I was perplexed. Like, I can suck on your pussy baby girl, it’s not a problem. I aim to please. But why sit on my face? I responded “I want to fuck those tities.” It was the only thing I could say that could rival her statement. The whole thing now had a life on its only.

After all the talking, flirtation and boastful claims the day happened. It was at her house in Sandton. I disputed restaurants, I thought they were impersonal. So, she made it her task to cook for me. It was good. What can I say? There was always food in the fridge. That’s important. It’s a great thing. Be consistent with matters of life. One thing led on another and we were kissing. It was mellow and grounded kissing. It was gradual, it was artistic, it was filled with desire, kissing filled with faint moans and grows, characterized with tougue service and the exchange of the saliva. Then she slowed down the process and said “let’s go into the bedroom”. And so we went. She told me to lie on the bed and get comfortable and she went to her bathroom. A couple of minutes later, she was in her bra and panties coming right straight at me. It was like a dream, a perfect moment in the scope of the Universe. She started kissing on me and laid me to the bed. At this point, she was the dominant party and I was just recrieprocating her energy. She kissed me on my mouth and my neck. It was slow, it was sensual.

She descented to the bottom and took my pants off. Before she gave me full attention, I took my shirt off. It was proper. It was thorough. Probably the best head I’ve ever had it my life. She gave it respect. She worship my cock, it was great to see. Then she came up when I was on and started kissing me. She took off her bra, while she was on top of me and started giving me handjobs. She was jerking, she was shaking and I was hearing music in my mind filled with melodies and angelic voices. She gave me heaven on earth. She then stopped, got off and took off her panties. She climbed on top of me and we grinded bodies. Her boobs firmly pressed to my chest and we were kissing. My arms covering all of her body like a blanket. It was intimate, it was warm. It was fulfilling and life defining. She then inserted my cock in her pussy and she rocked. Her boobs still to my chest, she used her lower body, bouncing that ass like a rubber ball. The reps started getting higher and higher and she shook like an earthquake, it was violent, it was shaky, it shattered my mind in a million pieces. After that she took a moment and relaxed. My cock still in her pussy. She took it off and kissed me. I was still at the bottom, and she was still on top like mighty Bayern Munich. Like Manuel Neuer, Mr. Sweeper Keeper, the captain. Before I knew it her pussy was in mouth. Goddammit! She sit on my face. Her desire had been fulfilled. If I could I would have avoided that but it was too late now. I had to work with what was on the table. I stuck out my toungue and started locating the clit. I was successful a couple of times and so I kept on going. I activated her like a charger to a dying phone. I was her savior. King serpent with the tongue that strings your pussy like a cello. After she fell on the bed, exhausted. Finally, it was my chance to be on top and I took it like a champ! I started kissing her. Kissed her on the lips. Kissed her on her neck. Descending to her breasts and started sucking, licking and nibbling. It was heaven on steroids with God at the club ordering free drinks to everyone. I descented to the bottom and started kissing the insides of her thighs. I gave her clit a bit of attention and started penetrating. She blossomed like a flower, opening her legs like a gate and I went in missionary style. I started slow so she would get acquainted to the position. I started slow to make her comfortable. I increased the frequency and the reps started doubling and increasing. I was heading to the finish line when something stopped me. I removed my cock in her pussy and started kissing her. Slowly I moved my torso up her chest and put my cock between. She understood the process. She squeezed her tits together and started moving them up and down. She repeated this process and it was delightful. I felt something in me fused and I exploded like fireworks in the sky on the first day of the new year. The evidence lay on her breasts, it was sourcy, it was amazing! The miracle of life. It was a great session. It was a great day. I moved over and went over to her bathroom to take a shower. I took my boxers and headed for the fridge. I took out the orange juice and located a long glass. Poured the juice to the brim and heading to the balcony. With the wind blowing in my face, I congratulated myself, today was a successful day. Because Shira, gave me best pussy of my life. It was the way she opened her legs for me, they spread like a butterfly and I had the permission to do whatever I wanted to her body. It was exhilarating. It was exciting. At times she was submissive, passive and without control. I felt like Hitler with her body, a tyrant, inflicting my will onto her. It felt good, it was a release, it was liberating. It was life at its best moment. Finally I understood Chris Rocks sentiments on that Kanye West song “Blame Game”, she took the game up a whole another level! The fact that she was experienced helped. She wasn’t lazy and a slob. I hate inactivity and a unwillingness to step-up. She wanted to do this and it made things easy for me because all I had to do was step-up and show consistency in my actions. My aim is to get to 30 minutes, if I can do that, then the sky is the limit. However 30 minutes require a lot of practice and exercise, a luxury I don’t currently have. But I am optimistic, with time I will have plenty of practice. What now for the hero? I thought. The world. Business is strictly on my mind now or I will fail, drift off and stumble. While I might think I am autonomous and free, unrestricted and not barred, I was still in the claws of pussy. My perceived control was an illusion.

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Messi winning Copa America

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Messi winning Copa America

Argentina winning Copa America is literally the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t want to live in a world where Messi doesn’t have a domestic title. That world is not fair, it doesn’t make sense. Lionel Messi is the greatest soccer player there ever lived and he has done everything he can to win. When he contemplated about quitting the national team in 2016, I felt his pain. He led them to the finals only to fail at the final hurdle. It wasn’t even his fault, he can’t assist and finish the move himself, that’s not possible. The final product was often bitterly disappointing. Higuain didn’t do justice to Messi and Aguero is an after thought at national level. The only player who attempted to match Messi’s level was Angel Di Maria, his performances were always good but never enough for the illusive trophy. Losing 4 finals and 3 back-to-back is heartbreaking, especially if you’re Messi because he was named the MVP for 3 out of those 4 tournaments. The Argentina in the 2014 World Cup was a great Argentina, the golden generation; it had Romero, Zabaleta, Macherano, Otamendi, Demichelis, Di Maria, Aguero, Higuain and the great man himself. Managed by Alejandro Sabella whose tactics were spot-on. They were excellent throughout the tournament. There was nothing Argentina could have done in that final against Germany though, the better team won. However the two finals lost on penalties against Chile were brutal. In fact, in the final in 2016, Messi made a mess of his penalty and sent the ball to the heavens. Another almost. I was overwhelmed with sadness, he deserved more and time was up for most of the players in the golden generation. Thank God he didn’t give up, an ordinary man would have but we are talking about the world’s greatest soccer player here. He is a natural born winner. He has a strong mentality. He is God’s gift to the world and God doesn’t make mistakes – the failures were a part of the process to greatness. Now with a brand spanking new team of hungry, young Argentines who are eager to deliver titles for Messi and for all of Argentina, the future is so good. World Cup triumph is next.

Messi winning Copa America is so great for me personally because I project a lot of emotions on Messi. When he wins, I win. When he loses, I lose. This holds true for both FC Barcelona & Argentina. He has the unique ability of making or breaking my day. It’s personal. It is subconscious even unconscious. In my mind Lionel Messi shouldn’t lose games. I have been with Messi ever since he was 18 years old scoring his first ever hatrick against Real Madrid at the Camp Nou. He has been the best player ever since. When that isn’t reflected on a national level, I feel a big injustice within the substructure of my being. I feel like God and the Universe are cheating me. I really can’t live in a world where Messi is number 2, because whose number 1 if not Messi? I have been with Lionel Messi throughout his whole career. I have been watching like Christof. He has brought me and billions around the world so much joy and happiness, it’s not even quantifiable. He is the most consistent player in the history of the game. He has won everything and he is impossible to stop. He deserves to be on top, it shouldn’t even be a debate. Don’t tell me about Pele, he won the World Cup when 8 teams participated, today we call that “The confederations cup”. Winning a tournament of 8 teams is not special. Messi is owed by the Universe and if Universal laws are scientific, precise, concrete and objective then he deserves to be World Champion, he deserves this based on causality.

Messi winning Copa America feels like a liberation. It’s so typical that I talk of myself but I referenced earlier in the text that I project a lot of myself onto Messi. I too have been working so hard on my entrepreneurial endovours and for my efforts usually I’ve gotten a silver medal. For so long I have been in sync with Messi. I know what it’s like to lose over and over again through no fault of your own. To lose having given it your absolute best. To build and prepare for a lose. To have people doubt your greatness. To endure the disrespect of fools. Messi winning Copa America feels like destiny, like nobody can stop me now. I feel stronger and strengthened. I am motivated and also lighter on my feet. My loses have made me better and my skin is thicker. I know what I want, I am focused and I am still getting better. Messi winning Copa America is God telling me to prepare myself. All I have ever wanted is already granted, the trials and tribulations were a part of my apprenticeship – just like Messi. He too suffered like you did but now good times are here. It’s time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Messi winning Copa America reminds me of the fact that I am still the best, the greatest.

As a side note, I would like to take the opportunity to profusely thank God and the Universe for this gift. Well done to Lionel Scaloni for the great job. I extend my congratulations to Angel Di Maria, Otamendi & Sergio Aguero who like Messi have suffered immensely with a flurry of second place finishes. Also Emi Martinez for winning goalkeeper of the tournament, I feel his the best goalkeeper Argentina have had for a while. Truth be told I wrote this before the final because it felt right this time. I have a lot of faith in this team. I am impressed by Lutaro Martinez and the squad of young Argentines surrounding Messi. It also helps to have the wizardry of Di Maria & the deadly finishing instincts of Aguero as supporting cast members. They play with a lot of spirit and they really want this. When I saw the penalty shoot-out against Colombia, I cried. Emi Martinez (The goalkeeper) did exceptionally well saving three penalties. Argentina scored all their penalties, led by Messi. After the shoot-out and Argentina won, everyone celebrated with the goalkeeper. It was the greatest moment in the tournament. Messi went up to the Emi Martinez and hugged him. That’s when I leaked like a pipe. Finally, the Universe is helping the world’s greatest player. After that semi-final match against Columbia, I knew Argentina would win Copa America. It didn’t require a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon to figure out that every cosmic force was with Messi. Things are finally coming full circle.

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Forex made me wiser

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Forex made me wiser.

After quitting the call center I had R30000 from my savings, I also had other deals beside my call center job hence the large amount and they paid off at the right time. Hence me quitting without no hesitations, it was time. I was reading a lot on Investing and stocks. I remember I was so fascinated with those graphs, those candle sticks, what they meant, how to read them. They provided a promise of wealth and abundance. I wanted to understand them thoroughly, their psychology and nature. I was intrigued by what caused highs and lows. Martin Scorsese had just released “The Wolf of Wall Street” and it was a classic, I loved it! I even bought the book by Jordon Belfort. Those graphs gave me the promise of becoming Jordon Belfort and I wanted it all, the greed, drugs, big money, white Ferrari, hot blonde, the great Estate, bad morality and sex.

I read a lot on technical analysis and enrolled in a couple of courses. I tried out Forex, I decided that I’d do this full time. Forex is a battle against yourself, it’s not about the markets, observe. I put R15000 in the trading account and 5 days later my account was R65000, life was good. A month later I lost over 97% of that money. I committed horrendous mistakes! I added to losing positions. I let losing trades run hoping they would come back but they skyrocketed. Everyday I hoped it would go down but it kept going up and up. I didn’t want to terminate the trade because that is so final. I chose to live in denial and hope and everyday it got worse. Sometimes, it would go down but it was already way too high. I was in those losing trades for 3 weeks, acknowledging that I lost over R60000 was too hard for me. I kept going through. I got better at playing the game. I studied more and networked more. I got content from the top Forex college in the country at the time for free! I moved a couple of things to make that happen, the course cost R45000. I was fairly confident of my skills now. I remember one day, I was scalping, I turned $1 to $50. I was unstoppable that day. I was in complete flow. I won a lot of trades. Momentum trades and major reversal patterns. Be quick to enter trade and get out even quicker, don’t stay too long, in and out. I even started Journaling everything down, I was disciplined, it was a profession, I gave it my all. I got mediocre results though, It was disheartening but my focus was on being better. I have made over a 100K trading, my goal was always a million but it’s difficult getting to a million trading. You have to have an iron focus and discipline and even that is rarely enough because no one really knows where the market is going! I don’t care who you are, not even the greatest Investor in the world, Warren Buffet knows which direction the market is going. Forex is pure speculation. All the intersecting lines, shapes, moving averages, candle formations, oscillators don’t mean anything! All these things don’t obey any scientific or mathematical law. You are merely lucky if you win. Even if you place your stop-loss 1000 pips above range, it is going to get triggered, the market is going to spike you out and you are going to lose money – there is no exception to this law, you are going to lose every time. That’s why I preferred trading without a stop-loss, I don’t advocate it but some days it worked and some days it cleaned out my account.

Some days I won, but most days I suffered that’s why you need to have a major payoff, risk and rewards are the fundamentals of Forex. If you do it right, one position can make you a ton of money but you need to be patient with those, go into the 4Hour, Weekly, Monthly and Yearly columns, think long term, you will be rewarded handsomely. That’s what I ultimately started doing. I left the “day traders”, they are to expedient – “intraday” is more my style. Start off your analysis on 4Hr, anything other than that is just cute. You can’t be just placing too much trades, what’s the matter with you? Less is more, have a great risk/reward ratio or don’t go into the trade. Still I was good on every time frame. I decided I needed partners, I got investors, I promised them heaven on earth, 100% of your investment in the first month and 400% thereafter for 12 months! Everyone was impressed. “Mr. Forex kid”, you think I’ve just been reading at the library, foolish assessment, I’ve been making this cheddar, you niggas worry about the wrong things. Obviously, the enterprise with my partners didn’t go so well. I couldn’t deliver on that time frame. Donald Trump became President of the United States and the currency market misbehaved, and I didn’t have my stop-losses on, I was complacent, I lost most of my investors money in that way. Life just happened to me and I had to accept it. I took a lot of insults, threats and expressions of disappointments. I had to take it and I did. I took every call and responded best to every comment in the Whatsapp group, I was timid and humble.

Forex taught me suffering, emotional stability and regulation, sacrifice, resilience, commitment, iron discipline, focus, pattern recognition, rationality, psychology of market, greed, patience and the importance of asymmetrical risk/reward to garner huge payoffs. Throughout the years I pawned my personal belongings to sustain my trading account. I pawned my Laptop, my music keyboard, my projector and my digital camera. It was an active sacrifice, I knew I might not see these things again and it didn’t matter to me, the promise of being better at Forex was all the motivation that mattered. In the end I conquered Forex, I have all the content, courses and books, I forced my way to the best Stock Market and Forex college in the continent and got all their content for FREE, I devoured all their content and sold it. I was an active full-time trader for 6 years. I’ve been in the industry for 9 years. I know all the top brokers. I know all the experts on a first name basis and the truth is disturbing! Ready for it? No one knows anything! Forex is an illusion, it is not real, it is fairy-dust, a character in one of Disney’s stories.While you are trading patterns the big institutions are trading your stop-losses, it’s a different game altogether. They will get your stop-losses every time, they are experts on it, they do it because they can manipulate they market at their will. The big institutions even work together to get to your stop-losses and then they share the profits. Even if you have half a million in your account like I did at one point, it’s futile because the big financial institutions like your banks are trading in billions. They are the big players, 98% of the forex market consists of institutional investors while less than 2% is you and me(retail). Besides, 500K ain’t shit. Making money on Forex is like beating the house in Vagas – Godspeed.

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On top for as long as I like

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On top for as long as I like.

I am the greatest of all time. The top of the mountain is mine until I decide I want to descend. You’ll get the glory when I am done. Everything you see here is mine, everything revolves around me. I am the pulse, I am the whole business. Acknowledge Me, I am not going anywhere! I am on God mode, no one is on my level. Everyone is an afterthought in my presence. I smash my competition so bad they become irrelevant in their future endeavors. I dare anyone to step-up and take these titles from me. No one can, it can’t be done. I have beaten them all, there is no one left. Acknowledge Me now, I am not going anywhere, I will remain on top for as long as I want.

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Sweet corn

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Sweet corn

I remember when we used to play indoor soccer. Soccer indoor tournament organized by Bra Givo and the timers. It was a good idea, there was a lot of enthusiasm. The whole tournament was paid for, all that was required was consistency from the players. It started off well but 3 weeks into the calendar, one by one the timers started bailing out, I don’t blame them, we playing 2 games every Friday with people who knew their story and we would lose by huge margins. To be fair we were cast into the deep pit considering we didn’t know each other all that well. This is in reference to the timers and us, “the young stunnas”. My guys were consistent throughout! You know the guys I had on my team? I had Lloyd, Phimza, the Lord KG, gravel the shavel Stumza, Wanda, Man Senzo, Skuta and some other niggas who made guest appearances. I am not dissing anyone, thank you to everyone who made a contribution to the team, we are grateful and we appreciate it. Like Comfort who made the greatest guest appearance ever! We were low on numbers and Lloyd being a plans man called up Comfort and suddenly we had something. We had 5 players and we played 2 games back to back! We played exceptionally well, Phimza and Lloyd linking up well to get us the goals. Comfort played our center, Kg played the defense and I was the goalkeeper. Comfort played great that day, we were all impressed. The second game we were all fatigued but we gave our best, it was a great day. Now that the timers bailed out we had to fend off for ourselves. We gathered up momentum and week by week started getting better and improving. We started winning and our stock started increasing. Lloyd and Phimza were so important, getting us the goals we needed, they were consistent, every game more than 3 goals a piece and they assisted each other. I also made assists, I averaged 2-3 assists in a game, I started a lot of the moves, I was playing the sweeper-keeper role, I was very active, the gents nicknamed me ter Stegen, I was very happy with that nickname. I made a lot of game saving saves – one of the goalkeepers of the tournament. Phimza was the undisputed assist king, he would delete one player and deliver an incision pass, no showboating, quick and decisive and Lloyd would do the rest – control and shoot. I loved Lloyd’s approach, just shoot! Shoot, shoot and shoot! That’s how you get goals. If Lloyd scored 6 goals, Phimza had 6 assists. Lloyd was our top goalscorer easily scoring more than 5 goals a match. I remember one day another team asked for his services because they lacked a guy. Lloyd agreed but it would have to be after our game. In our game he was named the man of the match and was given a Powerade drink, then he went out to help out the guys who asked for his help. In that game the score finished 12-12, Lloyd scored all those 12 goals – another man of the match and Powerade.

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The Gulag Archiepelago IV: Fatigued

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The Gulag Archiepelago IV: Fatigued

I am tired, tired of complaining about the daily injustices of the Archiepelago, tired of not having a voice, they stripped us off our names and gave us numbers so we ceased to exist as human beings but as livestock. The message is simple; “You are now the property of the State, we own You”. I am tired of working for 9 straight hours. You can’t even finish your task quickly with the intent of rest because if you do, you’ll be given more work and if you refuse punishment awaits, work loves fools, a zealous horse doesn’t live long. I am tired of the insults and negative energy that suppresses confidence like a compressor, if you call a man a “pig” for 7 years, he’ll end up grunting. I am tired of not seeing my family. I forgot what they look like and my memory is failing, I don’t have pictures and I didn’t get the chance to tell them how much I love them. That’ll haunt me until my last breath. I am tired of living this comedy of an existence that lacks a punchline. Maybe I am the punchline, it would certainly explain the multiple bruises throughout my body and my soul crushed like garlic, maybe the joke is on me. Why would God play such a demented joke on me? Doesn’t he love me? Is it a test? Can’t he hear my sobs of pain and great distress? Maybe he just doesn’t care. Just the other day a woman was sentenced to 25 years for allegedly praying for the death of Stalin because not even our thoughts and prayers are our own. I am tired of not owning my will. God government does what he wants with my life. We got second sentences, we were just informed to sign, no trial, just an additional 10 years and if you didn’t sign they put you in punishment centers were they would torture you until you gave in like penetration, in other words, you screwed up either ways. I am tired of the humiliations and mistreatments, they put me in a cold cell below 0 in just my underwear, they spit on my face, how am I going to cope with another 10 years? Whom did hard labor ever correct? I am tired of the numbing cold, there’s 12 months of winter and the rest is summer. They give us 2 letters a year and most don’t reach their destination because they are simply burned – the Post Office can just be blamed. I am tired of the kids in this place with flawed morality. They steal, rob, rape and kill. Being a great thief is their only ambition because “to live a straight life at the Archiepelago is stupid”. Stealing and a life of crime is better in a world of hell because at least you benefit. The  kids only respect the thiefs and disrespect everyone else; the thiefs are their role models and so the cycle perpetuates. I am tired of the Police dogs being better fed than humans. I am tired of suffering. I am tired of life and death in it’s negative polarity because who say’s its better?

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The Gulag Archiepelago III: Labor camps

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The Gulag Archiepelago III: Labor camps

August 1918, the term “concentration camp” was coined for the first time by the Soviets to refer to their own people who were imprisoned in their camps.

Before we go any further, I want you to register the words and internalize them. You are worthless, your life is meaningless, no one cares about you, your self-importance is an illusion, you are a cochroch, you have no rights, unfit to be treated like a dog, you are useless, you are a stupid shit head, you are insignificant and no one would care about you if you dropped dead right now.

That was the reality for people in labor camps in the Archiepelago. The labor camps were made for destruction, to break the human spirit and the human body. It was meant to cripple and decapitate any prospects you had for the future. You were meant to break down and crack, to be irrevocably shattered like a broken mirror. It meant to shatter your reflection, reducing you to a state of helplessness. Prisoners worked on digging canals until their backs snapped like a twig. Some prisoners worked for 14 hours straight in the icy-hell. There was no way to escape too, how can you when you were surrounded by water. Those who did the impossible task of escaping drowned instead. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. The working hours in most prisons were 8 hours non-stop everyday. No break, no lunch. If you stopped for some reason you were punished. As a punishment prisoners where dragged on horses by their legs until they stopped making a sound. They were stripped off their clothes and their hands were tied on a pole and a net of mosquitoes was released for them to feast on. They were beaten with clubs and torn a part by dogs like a Tarantino film. Sometimes prisoners were left outside in the snow to freeze to death. While other prisoners were burned to death. There were not enough clothes and some prisoners were forced to work naked in temperatures below 0, – 36F and – 70F. There were diseases and epidemics spreading in camps and because the interrogaters didn’t know how to treat pupils who contracted these sicknesses, they were simply isolated in cells and they lived there until they died. A lot of prisoners died of hunger. Others rot to death. They witnessed their bodies fail and decay, they witnessed their skins peeling of like a potato, they witnessed their teeth falling down on the ground. Hunger, a process that breaks down your cognitive abilities. A process that makes every other thing irrelevant. When you are hungry, you think of nothing else but the hunger. Nothing exists besides that hunger. You even dream about it. Hunger breaks you down slowly. It makes you weak, devours your muscles, decimates your immune system, kills off your will to live before you die and then kills you. Hunger was so dire in the Archiepelago that prisoners ate a corspe of a horse that was dead for 2 days, it smelled and had maggots. Prisoners made themselves invalids to get better jobs or to be released early for health purposes. At first some succeeded and got pardoned. They broke their legs. They damaged their lungs by smoking tea bags. They swallowed aluminum spoons so they can be sent to hospitals to have the stomachs open. They did everything imaginable to inflict pain on themselves and cause irrevocable damage to their health. Soon, the jailers caught on to the trend and extended the sentences of those who committed such acts, a lot were just shot.

For women, prostitution was a means of surviving. It was a curse being beautiful as you were always propositioned by a crowd of men. It was better to choose a handful who could protect you. Gang rapes were prominent and vaginal diseases were the norm. In one prison, nearly 50% of the prisoners had them. Women ceased to be feminine. Hostility and violence was the only way to survive. On a positive note, in 1948, the prisons were split up for women and men and the prisons were surrounded by barbedwire. This made things better. Ordinarily “better” was not in the Archiepelago’s vocabulary. 30-50 prisoners were shot daily behind their ears or head. The NKVD (the jailers) would decide that prisoners needed to be reduced to accommodate new recruits and old prisoners were just shot. It was 2 people per casket, that’s if you were lucky to get buried. Other bodies were left outside until the bodies decomposed. In some prisons, it was 1 casket for 6 bodies and people were buried naked in order to not waste underwear. Cannibalism was prevalent, people were cut into meat, they were cooked and they were eaten. Committing suicide was not easy too, one lady tried committing suicide 3 times. She tried to hang herself, the rope was cut, she slit her wrists, the blood was stopped, she tried jumping off a ledge but the prisoner caught her dress. She was saved 3 times only to be shot behind her head. If you wanted to poison yourself, then go on with it, you making the jailers jobs easier and bullets will be spared.

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The Gulag Archiepelago II: God Government

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The Gulag Archiepelago II: God government

The days go on and you get used to the torture tactics, you got used to the torture techniques, they all become internalized, a part of you, ingrained, permanently incrisbled from within, deep rooted, DNA and RNA defining phenema, they grow to be a part of you. Sometimes you might get 3 ounches of bread and 1 glass of water. Their rule was one bathroom break per day 6pm, no arguments, comply, observe and let things discipate in the sky like a memory, listen to God government, do what he says, he is right.

I am God government. Don’t give me problems, I will change the sentence to 25 years, do you really wanna labor in a concentration camp all your life, or I could outride kill you, because hey, I am God government. You know what I did to one of you just 5 minutes ago? I shot him in the head for being a hero. You have no rights. There is no such thing as rights. I gave them to you and I can revoke them if I wanted, you stupid insignificant peasant. Shithead, I’ll crush you right now. Don’t you realize you are nothing, worse than a cockroch. Do you know who am I? I am God government. I construct what you perceive as reality. I am with Stalin, he encourages that we shoot people on the head, to add to the statistics, that’s his stuff, “kill more people to add to the statistics”. You know he be saying, “Put them into gas chambers to increase the statistics”. No sorry, that’s the work of the Germans, the Soviets don’t do gas chambers but you get the point don’t you? We kill just for the fun of it. It’s a reflex. I might shoot you right now just to prove a point. Don’t piss me off. Obey. I am God government, your lord, your savior.

The interrogaters did a lot in terms of experimentation and inducing psychosis. Isolation was key as people where cast in ratchet blackholes. Darkness was an important consideration when inducing depression. The lights cells were rationed. They were playing mind games, women were given men shoes, size 11 and 12. They conducted their interrogation at night because they realized the prisoners had less resistance, some were starved, some beaten, others starved of sleep for weeks, it was tough. A lot ended signing their 10 years, it was better than 25 years or worse death. To be shot at the back of your head and cease to exist like a moment. All these charges were fabricated, the Archiepelago is now your home get used to it. The good news is nearly 28000 people are executed monthly. The cells are small and 50 people are fitted in a 10 capacitor. The cells are so small that there’s no ventilation, so the prisoners would take off their shirts, because their skins were always touching and sweating, developing eczema was the norm. The Archiepelago had more than 20 million prisoners, it was a world on its own.

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