I am tired of feeding other men’s habits, week in, week out, I am the one buying beer. These motherfuckers, bloodsuckers, they are sucking me dry, like mosquitos, buzzing, irritating, never contributing anything to the group. How can you come to people with nothing? You wanna drink other men? I am tired of thinking for people who don’t think for me. They never buy me beer but I buy for them every time, round after round. I don’t need this, I have a girlfriend. They are using me, masquerading as my friends, using me to further their gains, they think I don’t see. I am cool guy but I can’t be helping niggas all the time, what do they do for me? My compassion is my weakness, I need to get my house in order, I can’t be saving other people. 24 Corona is not enough, less than an hour and nothing, I only had two beers, they are working against time, where did the other 22 go? They not using beer as an agent to enhance the experience, instead they using it as a storage tank, gulping the beer not thinking it runs out, now who needs to buy another 24? So I’ll get spite beer, something that will deter them, repel them like Peaceful sleep, fucking mosquitoes, a drink that will shrivel their faces like sour grapes. Spite beer is the only solution, I will retain more units of beer while saving up on buying more. Spite beer, now to want beer is to want the spite beer! Spite beer because I need to control my paradigm. Spite beer because I don’t need anymore friends. Spite beer because it’s more progressive.
I was at the Market Theatre for the opening of “Pieces of me” by Bo Petersen. A poignant play about family, belonging, race and identity. Set in the era of apartheid, the story world is plagued by inequality, segregation and racism. A time of the bompass, when you had to carry your identification documents at all times to gain access to parts of the country. This law severely limited the movements of black South Africans and was viciously enforced by the police with violence and jail time being norm for perpetrators who didn’t have their identification documents at hand. A time of Prohibition of mixed marriages act, an act that made it illegal for a white person to marry any other race, the immortality act, an act that barred sexual relations between whites and non-whites, transgressors could face up to 7 years in prison and the infamous Group Areas act that designated certain areas for certain races among other stringent, harsh and unfair acts.
Pieces of me explores Bo’s life, about how her father classified as “colored” marries her mother classified as “white” and the emotional toll of having to live in secrecy because of the laws imposed on them. After falling in love and having having 5 children together, her father passes off as white, a lie if discovered could send him to prison for 10 years and destroy the family.
Bo Petersen tells the story from different perspectives, her father’s, aunts and grandmother, breaking the fourth wall at times to talk to the audience to make them feel what she felt. The message is powerful and emotive. The acting unbelievable! She also enacts the roles of her aunt, father and grandmother. She is a great storyteller and inhabits all the stage. She is expressive with her body, language and overall demeanor. The set although minimalistic is effective. The hanging suit serves as a homage to her father, it has a presence, a spirit of its own and Bo interacts with it. The lighting nuanced and intimate. Christopher Petersen plays the keyboard and he sets the tone for the play, working alongside Bo to curate the story throughout.
Powerful story. Powerful performer.
Congratulations Royston Stoffels for a great show and a deserved standing ovation.
We all try. I think that human beings are inherently good but our circumstances and environment dictate our destiny. How can I be like the picture perfect people on my screens when I am primed to be incarcerated. Surrounded by drugs, violence, guns, death and sex. I am hungry, I want to get to the top and there’s no telling what I might do to get there, pushing you under the bus is a small price to pay for the rest of my life. If you stand in between me and my meal ticket, I won’t hesitate smashing you with a bat behind your head leading to your eye popping out the socket onto the floor. I like gangster shit, that’s how you get things done. If they won’t give me what I want then I’ll take it by force with the help of Mr. 9 mm and if you want war, his cousin AK-47 is keeping watch and ready to unload a hail of bullets on your unconscious, lifeless body. There’s an attraction to being a gangster, who wouldn’t want the autonomy of doing what they wanted, to be feared, respected and idolized. Cause gangsters can do anything they want, they can fuck any girl they want, they have all the money, the get preferential treatment, they drive the latest cars, they kill at will and government officials are in their pockets. Gangsters just don’t give a fuck, honorable mention ‘Crazy’ Joe Gallo, he did anything he wanted like kidnapping his bosses without the threat of any repercussion, he just didn’t give a shit, he lived on the darkside, it engulfed his actions, he loved the chaos, he loved being a gangster! Stealing from you is my pleasure and if you make trouble for me I’ll beat you up so bad you’ll start feeding from a straw, that’s if I don’t kill you and your whole offspring. Also, you need to start paying me for protection or your business is going under. I am not interested in the soldiers on the ground, they are disposable and will rat on you to get immunity, I am more interested in high ranking officials of Cosa Nostra like Michael Corloene or being the Capo like Anthony Soprano. They have a code of ethics and values they live by and they won’t hesitate to splatter your brains like tomato juice if you cross the line. Fredo was a stupid and careless Underboss who compromised the future of the family and had to die, he broke a simple code, a simple law known Universally, “the boss is the boss, never outshine the master”.
Everyone rats, police can flip anyone with the promise of immunity and witness protection programs, we saw this on Goodfellas with Henry Hill ratting on all his friends. The look on Jimmy Conway’s face when Henry pointed at him from the stand was one of betrayal but he knows the game, survival triumphs everything. Would you rather serve a 100 years in prison instead? The Godfather and The Sopranos were no different, it seems that the only people who can’t rat on you are the dead ones. The decision to fly in Frank Pentangeli’s brother for the deposition was a masterstroke from Michael Corloene and once again, he saved the family. Pentangeli nearly fucked things for the Corleone family as multiple counts of perjury faced Michael. And despite being Tony’s best friend for a lifetime, Pussy took a deal and conspired to bring Tony Soprano down. He wore wires, leaked information to the authorities and compromised the whole organization. Luckily Tony got to the bottom of it and along with the crew ended Pussy’s life with a hail of bullets. Your best friend of many decades, your family, they will rat on you if it serves their best interests! Being a gangster is all about self-preservation. To be in the game is to understand the stakes, death is on the corner and can happen anytime. You won’t see it too, if you are in a crew nobody’s going to tell you that you are going to get whacked, it just happens. In a world of deceit and ruthlessness paranoia triumphs and it’s easier to take everyone out like on Casino, cause a dead witness can’t say anything. Strictly business, nothing personal. I could be a gangster cause morality doesn’t matter in a Universe where everything ultimately perishes. At least now I benefit, I get the the drugs, fuck bitches, wear quality clothes, drive expensive cars and live in Mansions as big as Tony Montanas. I could paint houses for Russell Buffalino and Jimmy Hoffa following instructions to the smallest detail. I could be a gangster, I am not a 9 to 5 guy, the money is too slow and the hours too long. I’d rather pull the trigger to end your life in a second and make a fortune. I could be a gangster because life is already a game of self-preservation and power struggles, why not play on a professional level? I could be a gangster cause I was born in the hood, I know what happens in the hood, I understand people and what motivates them and I can dominate the hood. I could be a gangster, maybe not a Mob boss or the head of my own Capo but I’ll be the best damn soldier on the ground. I could be a gangster cause Machiavelli taught me its better to be feared than loved and I think he is right. I could be a gangster, I am reasonable, ambitious and a strategist like Vito Corleone, I have it in me to build an empire from the ground up. Killing in cold blood? That’s a small prize to pay for greatness, a war needs casualties and I’d be prepared to make that sacrifice. After all, everybody dies and the deaths would be justified, I am an honorable and fair man. Threats, intimidation and extortion I could be a gangster, my objective is power and the fear from your eyes gives me a rush. I could be a gangster cause they don’t want to give me what’s due to me so I’ll take it! I could be a gangster, cause we all try.
“Wait! Don’t shoot Gangster! I am you and you are me”.
I love money. It makes me happy, everything costs something and with money I can buy what I want. I can go shopping, I can spoil my loved ones, I can help out at home and I can buy food to survive. I am a fast money kinda girl and I prefer getting money on my own. I am young and I know how to make it, all I gotta do is watch out for the police. Why do I gotta hand my money to a pimp? Give a nigga a cut for all my hard work to support him and does he support me? Not a 100% cause he got more bitches. The emotions of other bitches, it’s stressful, there’s a lot of emotions and problems, it ain’t worth it, just headaches. You also can’t leave when you want to because the nigga own you and when you try to leave he’ll beat you to a pulp and take your your stuff leaving you in the numbing cold and where you gonna go? You don’t know anybody and you don’t have a place to go. Being with a Pimp, nah, it ain’t worth it. Although you still gotta know how to work a corner, it’s competitive and bitches are sometimes territorial, especially if you are pretty and young, you become a target but most of the time there’s a camaraderie and we stick together. I am happy doing this alone, I don’t need friends, I don’t trust anybody, I prefer to be myself and stick to getting this money. Any girl can do it, you don’t need special traits or a pleasing personality although the latter helps cause they all gullible. One time, a young white girl came up to me saying she hadn’t done this before, I told her to stick with me for the day and in two days she was working the streets on her own. Once is sufficient to have you coming back for more, I see it every time. Cause when you need money and someone give you a $100 note or $120 it feels like a jackpot, like free money because sometimes you ain’t gotta fuck. Some guys just want somebody to talk to so you just offer your ears and be a compassionate soul, some have foot fetishes and just want to suck your toes, like I said jackpot, free money. Still, I can suck your dick for $30.
I am 19 years old now but when I was younger, I would get an excess of $2000 per day. I started off when I was 15 but I was on and off. Being with other girls led me to this profession. I remember a time when I took showers to rush back to the streets. Yes I was a minor but they believed what I told them and best believe I told them I was 18, but it doesn’t matter, they don’t care in any case, they fucked me even though they suspected I was a minor. The guilt made them pay more, $400 or sometimes even more. Young pussy is tighter. Nowadays money gets slower by the day. If I work from 5am I can get $1200 – $1500 on a normal day, $1000 on a slow day. My clients are mostly regulars and they pay $200. I charge them $150 – $200 depending on the client to use my room. I also work the internet. You can get good tips but only if you are not arrogant, be sweet with them, don’t rush him to nut, it’s a process and everyone runs on different schedules. When you are sweet to them, they like you and might ask you for your numbers. I don’t do anything I am uncomfortable with like kissing, like why, you don’t know me, what if I have STD’s, what if you have STD’s? It’s risky, I don’t compromise my life in that manner. I am the sweetest person ever and I don’t do bad things to anyone, I just live my life. I smoke weed but that’s just about it. I come from a nice home, good mother, I have brothers and sisters, everything changed when my father went to jail. I’ve been to jail too for prostitution obviously and that’s where I gave birth to my child. My mother is raising her. They don’t like that I am operating the street but what can they do? I am grown, they couldn’t stop me even when I was a minor. I know what I do is risky and dangerous and that’s why I don’t recommend this to anyone, anything can happen and chaos ensues. These days more and more minors are doing this, I was a minor when I started this, a 24 hour whore doing it every day and at any hour and although I am not a minor anymore, I am still a 24 hour whore. I’ve have never been raped, held at gunpoint or anything like that. The worst thing that has ever happened was getting out of a moving car, it was an attempted kidnap. My skin was grated and I had to go to hospital for a few days but I am still alive. It’s a fucked up attitude that will attract life threatening situations like rape and being held at gunpoint. Also you gotta know how to detect bullshit, your life depends on it. I love myself, what I do doesn’t affect my self-esteem in the least, I love everything about myself, I know I am pretty, I can’t stop looking at myself in the mirror, I love my body, my ass and everything about myself. I don’t need anyone else to love me. Cause what is love? How can you believe that someone loves you? Show me you love me. Put me in a better position, buy me a big house, buy me a Rolce Rolls, do something. I don’t want love, I want money and yes, happiness too, because I do want to be happy, life is nothing without happiness. That’s why I don’t like friends, I don’t like associating with other girls because there’s too much drama, all they talk about is pimps, fucking pimps, smoking weed and other drugs but no money! When you are in this industry, you don’t need friends, money is the only thing that matters. I regret not finishing high school but I have it in me to get a degree. This is not going to be my lifestyle forever, when I am in my 20’s, 21 to be precise, I will be where I want to be and I’ll quit.
Set in a totalitarian state, that’s always fun. The subtext communicating that darkness and lack of control prevails. The story world is uncertain, suspicious and not sure of itself. It seeks resolution, justice and truth. The bounds of morality are put through a microscope. What’s right? What’s wrong? Are you right for suffocating your parents with a pillow because they abused you as child? Is taking another life ever justifiable? Definitely not a show for snowflakes. Murder, blood and torture are a running feature in the show. There’s indifference in the murders by the characters for humors sake and just sociopathy. The story starts off in an interrogation room when a writer Kutarian is questioned of the murder of children resembling and mirroring what he wrote in his short stories. The details of the murders and his stories are identical. The detectives even find tangible evidence in his house of the victims severed body parts. The deaths are gruesome and graphic, from razor blades shoved in the throat to toes being cut off leading to bleeding to death. The writer Kutarian claims innocence and the detectives Tupolski and Ariel press down on him heavily to get the truth out of him, deploying “good cop, bad cop” and torture techniques. Kutarian’s brother Michal is also in custody in another room awaiting the same brutish treatment. Michal is a “special” case and the words retard and slow are loosely used to describe him. It is revealed that he is the killer and not his brother. Finding out the truth, Kutarian murders his brother in a jail cell and takes the fall for everything, hoping to spare his brother torture and preserve his writing for years to come. In the end, he too is put to the sword but his work survives for another 50 years.
Unbelievable story, I simply loved everything about the show. The subject matter dark and uncomfortable but it was under the hands of expert storytellers. A couple of hours with an interval, we went deep into the story and understood what motivated the characters. The writer Martin McDonagh is the real hero. The writing is simply exquisite! The pacing of the show, the dark humor, the sharp wit and sarcasm – it contributed some comic relief to a tense storyline. The miniature stories told throughout the story using animation and art projected on the screen was a great touch. We had visual aids, we could see the stories the performers told. That was such a cool experience, I’ve never experienced theatre like that, it’s risky, unsettling, cringe and out of the comfort zone theatre. The show was captivating, a real thriller, I was locked in that world. The performers were outstanding, they stayed in role even after the show was over. They didn’t even take a bow, the story and ending didn’t call for them to take a bow. Darkness just permeated until the auditorium was lit indicating that the show was over. If I were to rate it, I’d give it perfect stars – all the stars! It was an immensely satisfying show.
My hat goes off to Hugh Becker who played Katurian, the writer who initiated all the chaos. Ildi Kungl who played Tupolski, detective number 1 and good cop. Tebogo Tladi who played Ariel, detective number 2 and bad cop and Wentzel Lombard who was untouchable as Michal. Congratulations Paprika Productions for an amazing show, definitely coming back for a second run. Thank you Daphne Kuhn and Theatre on the square for another classic.
She’s got daddy issues, she’s eager to please. Her daddy left when she was young and she has never been at peace. No masculine figure in her life, she sucks dick to appease. Rumor has it she blew the whole squad, got her on all fours like a quad. Insecure, void and empty, always looking for something to fill her, hard and phallic it fills her. Every man looking to fuck her, slut shame her. A pornstar in the making, her pubs are already trending, legs in the air but her confidence descending. That’s why she’s promiscuous cause every boy is an opportunity to get close to someone, she wants to be loved by someone, the attention validates her, it feels like she matters, reality sucks and confidence in tatters. So she’ll do whatever you like to please you, the pussy she will lease you, for free and include videos, knowing they will leak, her nudes are making rounds and are close to peak. Her self-worth is all yours to keep. She’s got daddy issues, I could get her to drop her panties and wrap her legs around my waist. Cum on her face or use protection to excrete the waste. A bit unstable, should come with a label. So easy and gullible, she thinks she’s unlovable, calls every man daddy. Men use her as a caddy, to store their seeds inside, only to contaminate the can and abandon the mission like a ban. She’s got daddy issues, easy to get her in the sack. Missionary style or blow out her back. Fuck her out in the deck, so everyone can see, issues deeper than a shipwreck at sea. She’s got daddy issues, her life is sad, you’ll need a tissue. All the men in her life are disappointments, the world is cold with no one to kiss you.
A man who has money is beauty for women just like how men look for beauty in women. Granted you wouldn’t marry a woman for her beauty but it sure helps. Money is attractive, money is intoxicating, it has the promise of fulfilling all your dreams. Visions of not having to struggle anymore, gracing balls wearing designer clothes burdened with sparkling diamonds that hang on your neck and wrists, driven in luxury and escorted by royalty. Which girl wouldn’t want to be Cinderella for a lifetime? This time the magic doesn’t dissipate, the clock keeps ticking, the fairy godmother on speed dial and the glass shoes keep on multiplying. Living in Mansions, walking on marble, oversighted by crystal chandeliers, swimming in heated pools and served by foreign butlers. There enters the Gold digger, the manifestation of every man’s fantasy. She represents a tunnel in the repressed subconscious mind. She fulfills you in every way you desire. She subjegates herself to you, granting you power. She soothes and fills what’s lacking in your life. She is your escape in a world were routine triumphs. She is exciting, new and forbidden, uses her body to make you yield into the temptation of her bosom. You can squeeze if you want to, that’s the whole point. She’s yours for a price. The esteem and prestige of being your wife, but no prenups. Also, she wants to be included in your will, a stake in the inheritance fund and half of everything you own and oh, she’ll get it all. Her cunning intelligence guarantees it. You are her gold mine and she’s not letting go. Unlike the typical woman who operates with the right hemisphere of her brain, she is a blend of both hemispheres, she is both feminine and masculine. She is not just a woman whose emotional and acts on her feelings, she thinks, she plans, uses reason and logic, she has drive, she is ambitious! You are the route to her Gucci and Louis Vuitton bags, bespoke designer clothes, red bottoms heels and summer vacations in Monaco.
It was difficult to defend against the Blitzkrieg attack because it enveloped the enemy and crushed it with great speed. It gave you no time to think, no space to move, you were crushed by the weight of the attack. The perfect gold digger is akin to a blitzkrieg attack. You’ll never see it coming, she will crush you and dispose of you faster than the speed of light. Great gold diggers will seduce you, play to the repressed qualities of your being, ascentuate their body features, lower the pitch of their voices, play the demsel in distress, regress to a childlike persona, dominate through passivity to sink their claws in, marry you for your money and then divorce you. They are the definition of deception and smokescreens, they disappear like an illusion, like a dream, like it never happened. After you it’s on to the next one. You have to admire gold diggers because they are ambitious, they are driven, they have will, they want a good life and you are a means to an end. Gold diggers have balls, what makes them great is their ability to tap into their masculine sides while maintaining their femininity. That ambition will get you everything in life. I would love to be a Hugh Hefner, a magnet for gold diggers. To be surrounded by young, hot, beautiful women and have the relationships be platonic and transactional, using my pool and walking around the house in nothing but their birthday suits, oh Hugh cracked the code, the Playboy Mansion is heaven!
In our modern world the word power seems to make people uncomfortable, it has negative connotations of greed, evil and corruption. It is undesirable and dirty and no one seems to want to admit to the world that they want power. We like to convince people and ourselves that we are saintly and good individuals who care for the well-being of others. We imagine that we are pure and we would never hurt or kill another person in cold blood, that it is always the other person who is the aggressor and not us. We deceive ourselves and repress this urge for power relegating it into the shadows. The truth is that everybody wants power. The world is one big power struggle, the clash of egos combating to be the alpha. Dominance, it keeps our blood boiling and we hunger for it like a starved prisoner. Standing over your body makes me feel good. I yearn to make you submit to my will and my point of view. Power is everything, it is control and persuasion. It sucks to not be able to persuade anybody, it makes you feel weak and not in control of the situation. You feel like a bystander, a passenger moving along with the wind blowing you away in every direction. It makes you feel like a victim of life. Power puts you in control, you become a creator, a God. A God, that’s what everybody secretly yearns to be. To have undisputed power and influence over everything and everyone. In pursuit of this untold power, life creates a Hitler and a Stalin. Because If God is a fabrication of the mind created to derive meaning in an absurd world then maybe I can fill that gap, I can be God and control peoples perception of reality. He won’t intervene because his not real, I am God now and I will prove it by starting Wars and conquering other nations. All is power and that’s the motivation for serial killers, to kill, plain and simple. Jeffery Dahmer murdered people for the power it gave him, it gave him a rush, it was intoxicating, he felt powerful knowing he separated your spirit from your body. He kept souvenirs, his victims skulls, skeletons and took pictures of the severed body parts to remind himself of the power he had over you. It was the same with Charles Manson, he had the power of persuasion, he recruited young girls to his cult and convinced them to commit horrendous crimes. If I live in your mind, I can convince you to slit somebody’s throat from ear to ear and that’s what Manson had, permanent residence in these girls minds, they revered him, going so far as calling him Jesus. Power is possession, it is psychological, it is forceful, it is desirable. If I have power over you, I can do whatever I like. The denial of the desirability of power leads to slavery because the shadow has taken control of you, your undesirable impulses and urges needs an outlet and so you disregard my right to life as a human being to justify your repressions, so you humiliate me, break me down, vilify me to feed the beast that has taken control of you. You don’t even feel bad about it because you are a good church going Christian who believes in community and doing the right thing.
Power, you have to be aware of the laws to get to the pinnacle. The victims of Jeffery Dahmer had one thing in common – they took the free lunch. Maybe Dahmer was charming and charismatic, it would certainly explain how he lured them to his place, but if someone offers you a big paycheck for something menial then that’s a red flag because they are after your soul. That’s how Harvey Weinstein comes into the picture. “Suck my dick and you will get the part. Come on, every young actress sucked dick to get to the top”. You suck his dick and there’s no coming back, his got power over you. He lives in your head rent-free. Worse is that you need this, you a nobody and his a Billionaire who controls Hollywood. What you gonna do? It’s easy to despise the free lunch when you are not hungry. If you depend upon your own arms, you stay hungry for a while maybe for a long time but you have your power and it accumulates. Who knows, maybe in a couple of years you become a big player in the game. Power, you need to delay gratification to attain it. Sucking executives dicks will only make you a pawn. Elizabeth Holmes played the game of power beautifully. She was charismatic and magnetic. Used theatricalies and fed peoples need to believe. She modeled herself after her hero Steve Jobs by embodying his spirit. She wore the type of clothes Steve Jobs wore, copied his mannerisms and how he used to present his products to the world. Investors thought that she was the next Steve Jobs, they saw Steve Jobs reincarnated. They gave her millions for her company. They fell in love with her. She graced the covers of top magazines like Forbes and Fortune. She was labeled a genius and an innovator despite the fact that she hadn’t produced anything revolutionary. Everyone mistook appearances for reality. Her company Theranos was a hoax. She deceived everyone to get to the very top, meeting world leaders and presidents in the process.
Like on The Godfather, power like war is deception, never let anyone know what you are thinking and you hold all the cards. That’s where Santino Corleone got it wrong, by revealing what he thought he compromised the family, he showed Sollozzo that the Corleone family were not united in the decision to not operate in the narcotics business and Barzini took advantage. Power is double standards and smoke screens and Barzini played the game beautifully by keeping his hands clean and getting Sollozzo and Tattaglia to do the job for him while he sat on the sidelines and pulled the strings. Santinos mistake nearly cost the family everything, it was through the grace of God that Don Vito Corleone survived that hit. Power is getting people to play the cards that you deal. Power is cunning and deceitful. Power is concealing your intentions, like Heyman Roth pretending to be an alliance for Micheal Corloene while at the same time plotting his death. Power is crushing your enemy totally like when Michael Corloene assassinated the heads of the five criminal bosses all at once to cement his power at the helm. Power is power, it deserves its negative connotations.
Monsters lurk everywhere in the world and it’s hard to spot them. They have learned to camouflage themselves in the darkness, it engulfs and consumes them, blackening their souls turning them into shadows. Analytical Psychologist Carl Jung explains that human beings carry within themselves both elements of the good and bad, that we are both angels and demons, sick, demented, evil, dark, spoiled. Because we live in a world where we have to co-exist to survive, we surpress these undesirable qualities relegating them into the shadows. Unchecked the shadow can grow to consume our personality and rule our subconscious minds enabling us to act unconsciously. Our shadows can turn us into psychopaths who lack empathy and thrive on destruction. The shadow can enable the individual to be narcissistic, egoistic and maniacal. Shedding a light on our dark sides helps in controlling the shadow. Acknowledging you have a dark side keeps the shadow at bay. Life is a balance of both the good and bad, of the light and the darkness. We are both polar extremes of the same spectrum. You are a killer and a murderer, human nature says you are. You might find pleasure in murdering your brother in cold blood. Cain certainly did when he murdered his brother Able to spite God. The murder was premeditated, he felt no remorse, the action liberated him. I know I am bad, I am capable of savagery and genocide. I may even take pleasure in torturing and tormenting you to appease my dark side. Your suffering might even give me comfort. Am I another Jeffrey Dahmer? Would I drug you, strangle you to death, masterbate over your body, have sex with your unconscious body, dissect and sever your body parts, skin the flesh from your bones, cook and eat your body parts for dinner? The capacity for evil in a human being is unfathomable. Maybe I am not familiar with my own darkness. I don’t know what I might do to you in the right circumstances. The story of Jeffrey Dahmer haunts me because he did it time and time again. A serial killer with a death toll of 17. No one was safe, from boys aged 14 to adults aged 33. He butchered his victims, cut off their limbs, drilled holes in their skulls and injected hydrochloric acid, severed their heads and preserved them in the refrigerator, inserted the bones in the oven to burn them and then crushed them with his sledgehammer, he cut his victims into pieces and then boiled them, he cooked his victims and he ate them, he ate them! He used acid and other chemicals to burn the skin of his victims skulls to preserve them. He bleached the skulls and if they were too weak he pulverized them, some he kept and used when he was masterbating. He felt no remorse, it was a compulsion for him, he was conscious of his actions, he knew what he was doing, he wasn’t crazy or diagnosed with some sort of mental illness, he consciously experimented with his victims bodies in his own words to create zombies, he loved doing it, it was his vocation. I don’t want to believe that I am as wicked and evil as Dahmer but I know it’s possible. To deny this is to repress my own darkness and wickedness. To know I am capable of such darkness frightens me. I hope Jung and Freud have an answer for somebody like Dahmer. Maybe it is the ID out of control. Sigmund Freud explained that the ID is the seat of both the repressed material and the drives, to which had been added to the unconscious fantasies and unconscious feelings, notably guilt feelings. Expanding on this idea, Freud states that the mind is divided into 3; into what we call the ID, Ego and the Superego. The Superego is the watchful, judging, punishing agency in the individual. The ID is self-gratifying and amoral and the Ego is the middle ground of the two and strives to be moral. I don’t think Freud and Jung would understand an individual quite as complicated as Dahmer, to try and understand somebody like Dahmer is impossible. I mean he seduced and lured his victims to his place, drugged them, killed them, cut them and sat with the stench of their decomposing bodies. The smell was second nature to him. Sometimes psychology is not enough, perhaps this is a genetic thing, maybe his the exception in the family tree. When he was finally caught he didn’t resist, he was compliant and told the whole truth, every horrific detail, where he hid body parts, how many he had killed, the hearts, biceps, legs he ate, when the killing spree commenced – everything. He knew what he had done was evil and he asked for the death penalty that was not granted because it was banned in his State. He was accepting of who he was, he was not bothered, he was not haunted by ghosts and demons, he was not remorseful, he even had fans who corresponded with him in jail, fans who projected onto him their undesirable feelings, desires and fantasies and he reciprocated back that energy. Jeffrey Dahmer is your definitive example of a monster, he scares me. Maybe I am just scared of myself.
antakalipa 