I am sorry, Twin peaks has been cancelled.

I think it may be time to reconsider this blog, my dear readers.

Listen: I came into this without a proper game-plan. I wanted somewhere to write about my current mediums used for escaping everything; every little detail about my life which - as of a few months ago - has been dismal. Escapism is a notion I have always held a "hate-to-love" relationship with. Instantly, one can see the sheer self-indulgence that goes into ANY act that simply takes one away from reality for a period, into a fictional narrative or into whathaveyou. But, honestly, without such means, where would we be? One can't deal with what is placed before us in the modern world. There are newsflashes//televisionsignals every few seconds telling us of atomic disasters that remind us of our place within our species; there are unprecedented levels of interconnection that tie us into each other's problems; there are social constructs of how we are meant to act/work/live/love/be that pound their way into our subconscious even while we sleep. When one considers our "natural" state of nature (Hobbes eat your heart out) we aren't necessarily equipped mentally to handle this extra strain contending with our already predominant biological necessities. Its impossible to exist both physically and mentally within the world all of the time. Everybody needs respite, even if it is only within the pages of a book.

That's why this website can't function any longer. Third post in and already things are in disorder. Signals are scrambled. The dials are twitching, but the control panel doesn't recognise the sound.

While I can still embrace the utter selfishness of escapism as a necessity, I can't accept the subjectivity of escapism while also preaching it to a mass audience: Its a very independent notion, the art of escaping from your own problems, it needs to be decided what is necessary, when and why. Only you can do such things. This has been true for me and Kenickie, "At the Club" especially. While this isn't the best band/album I have listened to - bar a very wide margin - it gave me what I needed, when I needed it. losing a level of intimacy gained through three years of love is a difficult process. I needed to hear trash. I needed to hear abuse. I needed to know that people are fucked enough to actually believe that meaningless sex, dancing and angst will make us whole. These lies made me stronger. That' s what escapism is. That's why I started this blog.

These past weeks have just solidified this thought more. I started this blog to explain how I am escaping my breakup. And that has been through such bands as Kenickie (primarily) but I'm finally starting to kind of see that its not worth it. Pretentious jibberjabber about my own problems tires me to no end. I can explain to all of the internet why I particularly enjoy a very specific album or book or artwork and subtly allude to how it has helped me get through this period of time that honestly never. seems. like. its. going. to. end. but again, this thought tires me. Escapism is a subjective ideal, a self-indulgent ideal. I simply don't want to make it either more self-indulgent or help to cheapen it more by spreading it to a mass audience any more. I've learned my lesson.

If you really want to know how I escape reality, here's a list:

• I make mixtapes: for different people, for different moods.
• I read books that make me appreciate the form and that remind me why it has survived so long.
• I listen to music that does similar things, but sometimes I just do so to dance and embrace the idea of dancing for dancing's sake, nothing else.
• I continue to be sceptical of everything from society to my own life - especially my own life - and work to develop my nihilism.
• I enjoy the company of fantastic people and talk about superficial nonsense that does not bear any relevance on the world at large at all, just to feel a connection.
• I try to take pretty photos for various reasons of escapism (just read Susan Sontag for a better explanation of such actions).

But, when all escapism is lost, when I finally have to confront reality, for the most part I cry. I miss the ability to be intimate with someone I genuinely loved. I miss the simple pleasures I used to take in meaningless acts. I miss an even more simplistic poptomism I once had for this world. Sometimes I even wish things had never changed.

And then I think about things more. I breath for a second. I slow down. I think of one thing:

"It barks at no one else but me
Like it's seen a ghost
I guess it seen the sparks a-flowing
No one else would know

Hey man slow down, slow down
Idiot, slow down, slow down

Sometimes I get overcharged
That's when you see sparks
You ask me where the hell I'm going
At a thousand feet per second

Hey man slow down, slow down
Idiot slow down, slow down

Hey man slow down, slow down
Idiot slow down, slow down."

And I remember the story of this song: It was written by Thom Yorke as he was walking around Prague one night while he was on a holiday, hoping to find inspiration in one of the most beautiful and culturally rich cities in the world. Yet, for as long as he stayed there, every where he looked he could only see people around him, hustle&bustle past all of this value in opt for something they obviously deem "more important". All of these people were too caught up in their own problems - their own subjective worlds - to simply take a second to look around them and realise exactly where they were and how absolutely stunning this place was.

The song is beautiful and simple in its message: slow down, there is nothing more important than embracing circumstance and value wherever you are. Living is more important than your minuscule problems. When you exist in something full of beauty, don't fall into the trap of overlooking it. Objectivity is just as important as subjectivity.

If you take nothing away from this blog than this message - and the knowledge of the sheer fantastic that is Kenickie - take this titbit with you.

I love each and everyone of you,
thank you for listening,
goodbye.