It’s been 19 days since I quit volunteering and Domenico took my by his car to Hippie Beach in Caleta without money, telephone and access to the internet to let me taste freedom. Dumpster diving and smoking weed the whole day is funny but maby not very hygienic for my brain… Domenico, could You please help me to move my stuff to the top of Teide volcano, then I can fast and meditate for 10 days, and rethink my life? Anyway, I’m still alive! Love You and miss You, my dear friends.
I’m on this beautiful island. Surrounded by nature. So close to the Ocean. How come I live in this heavenly pIace? I want to relate to you quickly what I’m doing on Tenerife.
Well… I am still sort of a slave in this capitalist world but maybe I’m not so worried about that fact anymore. My mind is more busy worrying about other stuff at the moment. Like this little cute twin-sister-princess combo. If anybody knows a country where it is allowed to marry two girls legally without studying the Koran by heart in advance, please let me know. Nevermind. I’m still totally broke so I wouldn’t be able to afford even one. I don’t have money to rent a room so to survive, I work in exchange for food and accomodation. It’s called “being a volunteer”. Sounds very noble, huh?
I start to believe that volunteering has become my plan for life, because it’s virtually the tenth time in my life that I’ve helped others in exchange for being fed. I’ve done that in Italy, England, Norway, Sweden and even in Poland, where I come from. There are some positive sides of living this way. Isn’t it great to work in a hostel full of young and joyful people, have fun with them, smoke joints, be given free accommodation and food every day ? Some of you may think not. The truth is, it’s a job requiring some sacrifices.
I do nightshifts. I work six days a week and work 7 hours per day (from 1AM to 8AM), which equals 42 hours a week. In other words, I work more than an average full-time worker. And I am not paid for working overtime with more rice. My tasks include spending nights at the hostel, preparing coffee, picking up trash and people from the airport as a driver or dropping them off , asking drunk people to shut up, boiling eggs for breakfast, and I sleep it off during days. If you think that I occupy a nice and cozy room here in the hostel, you’re wrong. I sleep in a tent. It seems that history runs in circles, at least mine, since a tent is exactly the same type of housing I used to “enjoy” in Norway… I hardly have time for entertaining myself, because I rest after busy nights, missing the most beautiful and sunny parts of the day… sometimes I forgo sleep entirely and run off coffee instead in order to make the most of the daylight hours. And do you know what my final conclusion is going to be? Everything is ok. More or less. I simply like this place. Its a cool place. And it’s my choice to be here. However strange and surprising it may seem, I’ve found joy and peace here, so I smile a lot again. Despite the fact that I have no place to go and money to escape I really want to be here right now. One day I will have to move. I have to be ready. For sure I don’t want to go back to a bench in Santa Cruz.
When suffering a spate of depression after coming back to my home town of Walbrzych, I realized that there was no fucking way I wanted to stay there. Do you know that the city of Walbrzych is considered to be the most miserable city in Poland? First of all, it is one of the most polluted cities in Poland. Although urban authorities have tried to introduce some regulations on the issue of air pollution, the results are hardly visible. Secondly, Walbrzych is not a popular destination for visitors. It used to be a majestic city, but after being industrialized it became destroyed and dirty. There are also no newcomers eager to move in and at the same time, most of young people try to do everything to escape from that place. It seems that there’s no hope for the city, as if it were cursed. All those factors made me decide to exchange the greyness for the tropical islands.
Ok… I have done enough complaining in this article. I don’t want to make my readers feel drained after reading this. So here come positive paragraphs of my story.
As much as my life sucks, I’ve grown to accept it, at least for now. Finally, I’m living in a paradise and I’m quite happy being here. I meet a lot of amazing people every day and I made beautiful friendships with some of them. Having free time, I go to the beach or I run to stay in shape. The hostel’s guests, who are mostly students, throw outdoor parties very often, so it’s impossible to get bored here. For the most part, even having drunk alcohol, they are very funny, do not start brawls and behave well. However, I don’t want to drink. Cigarettes and coca-cola are already my conscious choice for addition. Although I only smoke occasionally, sometimes I think about quitting weed altogether, but I’m not ready to take the plunge. Anyway, it is the one little thing which always lifts my mood. Living on Tenerife, I’ve learned to take joy in simple things like taking pictures, smiling to the people and walking along the beach. I can eat, talk and smile in a way I haven´t been able to in a long time.
My life isn’t that bad right now, is it? I’ve learnt to take joy from these things however, worry that sometimes it makes me forget about my past and the reasons I am here.
Two years ago, when doing my voluntary job in Palermo, Sicily, I met Salvatore. Since then, he has been one of the biggest inspirations in my life and his words still keep me going (although I don’t stick to all of his words of advice…). I saw him for the first time when he arrived to stay in an apartment I was taking care of. He was accompanied by an unearthly beautiful, russian girl. I have to admit, although I feel ashamed about my stupid prejudice, that I was sure he had found her on some online dating service and it wouldn’t be a long-lasting relationship. Oh Lord, I was such an idiot thinking like this. Now this lovely couple is married, they have a child and I keep my fingers crossed for a similar lifelong happiness. Coming back to the plot, I showed Salvatore a flat he was about to occupy during his stay. That elegant man, wearing fashionable clothes and a luxury watch, seemed an extraterrestrial creature to me (at least not from my world). I was so interested in that guy, that I eventually plucked up courage to ask him what his profession was. He turned out to be a pre-eminent neurosurgeon. However dumb it may sound, I simply couldn’t take my eyes off him. He created an impression of being such a genius. Seriously, one has to have a brilliant mind to open people’s skulls and operate on their brain. That was how our chit-chat started. He noticed that something was wrong with me so I decided to tell him the story of my life, including my periods of mental breakdowns. He felt willing to bring happiness back to my life… so he invited me to a party!
Can you imagine it? A neurosurgeon, rich as fuck, asked me to go to a party with him! I agreed, but I have to confess that I was overwhelmed by his act of kindness. I felt a little bit like a Cinderella by his and his girlfriend’s side, but Salvatore turned out to be one of the most laid-back, funny and outgoing guys I’ve ever met. Happiness beaming from his sparkling eyes and a grin from ear to ear gave me the feeling that he was a good hearted and sincere person. That unforgettable night, he paid for my drinks, gave me joints and I tasted octopus for the first time in my life. We smoked, drank and at together all night long and shared our thoughts with each other. It Alongside his busy job of being a neurosurgeon, Salvatore was a life coach too, to which he offered me advice and guidance. He, being my new mentor, gave me the following tips on how to overcome my depression. Becouse he’s a good one he’s expensive too. Now I owe 5000 euro to him.
Firstly he advised me to quit smoking cigarettes. Or even not advised me but what he simply said is that I have to quit smoking. I have to. “It’s bad for your brain. You have to quit smoking” – thats what he said. Then he told me it would be better for me to avoid alcohol, because as Polish I have a genetic predisposition to become an alcoholic. Well… I’m aware of negative consequences of alcohol consumption, and luckily I’ve never had any serious problems at least with that. He also recomended that I stop volunteering any longer. He rather recomended me to make money to have the possibility to decide.
Finally, Salvatore presented me with a recipe for happiness which I should follow instead of continuing to take prozac. So here it is- start every day with a cup of coffee and a huge joint. Pure marihuana, no tabacco. And have a lot of sex. Thats all. You may think that his pieces of advice listed above are all bullshit. Maybe. But I was also pretty serious, that these are words of wisdom which I should have introduced to my life. He might have used all of those examples as a kind of a metaphor, and I should perceive his message as a motivation for me to look for happiness in my life and to fight for my dreams. Or he was just making fun of me? Anyway, I found him to be a superman so I trusted him how I used to trust in Jesus before I turned 14 when my father told me that God doesn’t exist and all of this religion stuff is just bullshit for kids. Something like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. It was shock. How does it come to be? So who are we? What is it all about? Could anybody finally explain this to me? Since then I’ve still been confused. But anyway, I decided apply this untypical prescription- no alcohol, no tobacco. Sex, coffee and weed instead! At least I tried. To rebalance shortage of sex I up the dosege of coffee and grass.
It’s 30.03.2016. I just turned 28. It’s good moment for reflection. And this is the sad message of the whole story – two years have passed by and Salvatore has started a family, meanwhile I haven’t changed too much in my life. I’m still a broke volunteer but on another Island. I don’t have a girlfriend, and I don’t make any money either. The same old fears. The only thing that changed for the better is my living place, because I really appreciate and enjoy living on Tenerife. It would be great to stay here for longer. This Island is a real paradise even if my situation more reminds me of being in purgatory for now.
“Salvatore” – his beautiful name comes from Latin and means “savior”. I’m sure it is the case in my story, because that guy certainly saved me in one sense . By showing me how life could have been then he saved me from accepting the status quo as many people do. People who are chained somewere deep in Plato’s cave. That could have also been my destiny. Instead he inspired and still does inspire me. He opened my skull without a surgical scalpel.. He showed me, by his example, that there is something more that is possible. That it is possible to create a piece of art with human life. And that I have potential to reach it. Since then it has been my goal, even if I have to constantly land in trouble on this difficult path trying to succeed. And I will never stop because I am an artist of life. Every day I get through is a masterpiece.
So what is the next step of my master plan for life? I want to marry twins. Then I need to find some way to make money to enable me to provide gifts for my princesses. Is it possible to make money out of filming about my adventures and travels and troubles? If you believe my dreams may come true, leave a nice comment below this story. Or shere this post with the Universe- it will help me a lot. All contributions are welcome 😉
During my travels I was looking for a place, where happiness is people’s privilege. A place where it wasn’t taken from them for some reason. I think that if there still will be only one single person who is suffering and some other guys are taking advantage of it – peace and happiness on Earth is impossible.
I am very sad about poor pure evil people, because they, being incapable of empathy- ruin everything never seeing how the suffering they’ve helped to create comes back to them. Interesting fun fact? I perceive it a different kind of brain malfunction. Not the kind that troubles me- some kind of dopamine disorder. Actually I probably have too much empathy to be a psychopath. You need to be a psychopath if you want to “succeed”, that’s what I’ve learned. The ends sacrifice the means- they say.
I’ve visited many places. I thought Norway – were the inhabitants don’t need fight for survival every single day. I’ve tried extraordinary France and sunny Sicily, where just the heartbeat could be enough to be joyful and thankful for the magic of being. Bathing in the sun and southern spirit. I’ve tried many places, here and there. Usually, I left that places blaming the external conditions. I could run the whole life, but I cannot hide from myself. The thing is- I am a neurotic, a guy with completely disturbed brain chemistry. I didn’t even do drugs, except cigarettes. Anyways the events I was subjected to done a large portion of this stuff. Some of it is made by my own ignorance, because I am still learning to learn. How weird is that?
I thought my heart’s poor and it will never rejoice, but I’ve found the paradise. It was very good life for me a couple of past days. Thanks to your help, help of my sister who I’ve managed to contact – again, and few friends back in Poland- I could get out of my hometown which I despise. There’s not many places like that on the planet. You can smell despair in the air. Now Polish people don’t even know how they’ve been robbed by everybody else, even their own ‘caretakers’.
Politicians which only pretend to know the solutions, being just administrative robots. They will sacrifice any people’s freedoms for the sake of control. They have one motto: “do as I say don’t do as I do”. Political correctness and media manipulations are the means of maintaining status quo- free speech is absolutely and definitely suppressed. It’s not only Poland that found itself in peril, a lot of the nations are deep into the cultural crisis.
Why is that so important? The culture along with knowledge (especially historical but not only) is shaping the people’s lives. If they are consumed by trivia and never learn actual, real stuff- they will cease to develop, they will devolve. This is bad. A lot of people are going backwards in time. Someone is clearly benefiting. Raping the herd. I am travelling partially inspired by this situation. The truth is Europe isn’t no land of sunshine and free candy. It is very hard to not end up being a minimal wage slave- amount of money that doesn’t cover basic expenses, not to mention supporting a family. Talking heads & empty suits still brainwashing people from the idiot box though. Get a job! Get a job! Tunnel vision. These jobs are disgrace to human kind! Especially, since we already have free energy patents. But the researchers who wants to benefit the humankind against the interests of big pharma or energy industries are suppressed or even wacked. This stuff is scary.
If you connect this stuff I see – with funny deficiencies of my neurotransmitters you get pretty neat mixture of sadness, pain and strange loneliness. Comes in a bundle with fear. Ha ha. Ha.
Something good happened though. It happens from time to time when I am in motion, travelling.
Anyways, with your help I was finally happy for a few days. But things first first.
Why I’ve flew to Canary Islands without money? Because I don’t have money in Poland and it’s winter there. It is really cold and Wałbrzych looks uniquely sad. A lot of grey, poor zombies working out debt cycles in practice. Could stay with grandma which is particularly depressing. It was my act of desperation to save remaining sanity. Get to the sun. And I’ve done it, it was the best move I could make back then. I bade farewell to my grandma and few friends from my hometown and started the expedition into the unknown.
Into… the sun!
I could sincerely state that this place is a paradise. I’ve landed on Gran Canaria, near Las Palmas with a plan. Check out one place where I had some volunteering to do for food&sleep. The other hostel (another one) had the same vacancy but in the weeks. I thought it will be simple. Even if I don’t succeed at first I can easily survive due to warm, sunny climate of island. Of course things tend to complicate near dusk. I have a smart-phone which I can use to make some photos and short clips or record audios. I am grateful to the Universe for this technology (courtesy of my grandma who got another cell in bundle with prolongation of previous agreement) since my computer is doing not well and I could not use it to connect the magnificent Internets. I strongly believe that the internet is humanity’s last hope. The free circulation of information is one last thing that can oust the phony bastards from power over people. Nevermind. Using this smart-phone I’ve found some Polish group. I’ve posted there for help.
There was a guy who was willing to help me. I took a ferry to Tenerife. Not too much money left. It seems the hidden inflation and debauchery of money visited every corner of our planet. I strive to find clean places- energetically and mentally. Instinctively- to heal. I am proud of people who manage to fight or prosper and still be humane and healthy. The truth is that every and each one of us is tainted in some way, I mean infested with systemic failures, structural flaws of this huge Moloch as the beatniks would name it or whatever. Humanity is in deep trouble, only positive development can help us – and collecting more and more money or debt ceased to be the development which this planet and its inhabitants truly need. This blog is after all a monument of human solidarity and help in spite of dangerous individual and collective adventures in consciousness. This is the time when our corporate overlords and banker cabal, plus the media moguls who brainwashed us for years – start to fear. Not we anymore, we will live and thrive while they will consume the fruits of their labour- despair, scarcity and destructive interference.
Of course – reflective attitude doesn’t help when you are hungry and without shelter. I went to see this guy from Poland. I’ve got a warm welcome. We smoked some pot and a glass of whiskey with cola, the only drink that I can bear. Something was not right though. They were kinda nervous about the situation and – since I’ve informed two additional people where do I go (in case of a weird situation; I didn’t want no gay “activists”, no more house of free love or hypocrite dual-standards politically correct scumbags doing harm to their animals and mocking peers that came to help them) and these guys who invited me started to act very suspicious. They’ve drank too much so their moves became more and more nervous. Finally, they wanted to see my phone. I haven’t agreed on that. So I’ve run. Not too long though. I kinda fell off the terrace.
I’ve ended up in the bushes, with scratches and bruises. They were on my track, so I’ve literally got my shit together and ran. And I don’t blame them for being afraid. I don’t inquire what kind of activities they perpetuated and don’t want to know why they’ve became so suspicious. Anyways I’ve ended up homeless and the three worst days of my life commenced!
I ate almost nothing for three days. Nothing. Wandering through the streets and sleeping anywhere. At the end I’ve looked like a zombie or the legendary Gollum from Lord of the Rings.
Frankly, I thought that this is the very end. That I’ve gambled and lost. Was losing my mind. Crying. I haven’t seen any point of proceeding further with this scary, meaningless existence. Needed by anybody, without perspectives to rest and get my shit together I mean mentally… Thought after thought was racing through my mind and I’ve never felt that bad in my life. If you don’t eat, especially sugar for a long time- your mind and body starts to adapt and something really weird is going on with the elements.
But I’ve survived to tell you how life has its ups and downs. Even if you don’t have any money. There’s no safety we can buy with being a slave. Not more than we can manage with our minds our brains.
Ok. I am back. Been in Germany, trying to earn some money. I am in Poland again. Again. At the moment I am… living with my grandma in very poor district of a dying polish city -Wałbrzych, again. Like when I’ve came back from Sicily. Hitchhiking. Oh, maybe this city is not dying, but just couple of humans here still. It still grows, but rather like a cancer instead of a healthy community. It’s all over the world. This sickness. Emotional plague. I guess it became like that lately. Because we are close to the end of this model of living. I want to document it. I want to make movies, the only time when I was genuinely happy. I am so sorry, ’cause this note can be kinda chaotic, guys, please forgive me that, my minds is like- messed up or almost depleted. When I try to focus the noise attacks me. I am trying to fight, though I know some new fun-facts about the world now. I was artificially happy for a couple of days when I took the pills. Few years ago. Yeah. But I have something optimistic and some hope left still. First things first. I try to spare you most of the doom and gloom, but you got to know the background to fully understand my conclusions. Let’s start.
Germany was a complete failure. Using carpooling I got to some German industrial area something like 600 kilometers from my grandma’s place. Before and after this trip I took some shit-jobs. All full time, all paid just pocket money. But how to even start to work without a place to rest your head after the work? I am practically homeless, because even if I stay at my grandma’s I start to fall down deep in my mind- still full of fear. Life is utter slavery here. Either on a pension or a slave-kinda labour. Of cause it still isn’t the shrimp industry, but this makes no sense. This is fun, because the wages are stagnant and everything went up some 30% percent. The equation of work effectiveness (for you, yourself, the fruits of your labor) gets you the results that are under the line of decency. This is basic physics, guys. Anyways- I got to Germany with some polish guys, who drank vodka all the time, and I was the bartender, I wasn’t drinking. After a few hours of the super-fun-time trip using great German infrastructure (Marshall plan, the dollars pumped into the country and finally Euro, which is a weapon of mass destruction- to extract value of every submerged economy). I arrived at a labor camp, the address that agency gave me. First of all – there was no Internet. Secondly: These guys- uh, this is sad- they haven’t had any signed agreement, everyone were waiting for it. It was said that there will be some paperwork done by the end of december. Neat. This was the stuff that raised my eyebrow. I started asking about the agreement, so they offered me one- full-time job in a warehouse somewhere in Poland for something like 400 euro. Right guys. The worst part is that I don’t have the camera anymore, I cannot document it properly, you got to believe me. I am trying to be a man of my word, altough the psychopathic standards are bending everyone to be a liar and a crook. At least partially. I am honest. This brought me a lot of struggle but I try to be a good person. Arghhhhhhh!
Now, about the work. I went to the work early in the morning. We had to move a lot of very heavy palletes of crap. Some junk. And there was this german guy who couldn’t stop yelling at me in german. The only stuff I got from a long litany of swearing was “DAS IS SCHEISSE!!”. He had this angry muzzle. This was his red furious mask of sanity? Shit, guys, this was at least unpleasant. But I was working hard thinking about the 900 euro they’ve promise me though I hadn’t any proof of this distant day in the future called pay day. The situation worsened by the hour. I had a room with 3 more guys and I was there half past nine. Exhausted. Angry as hell. This was a typical labour camp. “I don’t want to be here”- I was thinking that in a continuous loop. But then I had this thought about getting 900 Euro and some private space for at least a month, starting to think to get camera back, anything. There was one more drawback to this situation though. Being humiliated. I never told you guys about behaviour of my host in Sicily. Since I was very poor at that moment, I was treated like shit by this supposedly enlightened community-saving, permacultura creating individual. He was even worse when friends dropped by. Petty showing-off. When these indigenous Italians had some more wine and a couple of joints they made fun of me and my polish friends. Sometimes I was so angry I couldn’t speak. I could be beaten up if I would speak out by one of the impetuous friend. “Poles eat from the floor”- this is how what I’ve heard one day. Shiiit! I wanted not to be humiliated anymore… This is almost impossible when you have no money. People treat you like crap, but sometimes… and I had a lot of luck… you meet these People. I could easily name them God’s chosen people or the highest lifeforms here on Earth. These humans know how to share, how to help, they don’t have the Darkness in their hearts, though they’ve suffered a lot in their life. I remember all of them. Ole- the owner of a hotel- he opened before me and told me how his best friend stole his long-time girlfriend. He treated me as equal person. Elvad- the owner of the camping. He let soaking-wet, chilly lost boy from Poland to stay on his campsite. I called him from Oslo that everything is perfect, when I met Signe. Too bad, that one day later I was on the street again, being accused of thievery and that I left my job post. I went to the city to ask about the other work. I haven’t stole anything from her. Look up previous notes, especially the one with my “friend” from Poland is amusing. Thord- who helped me to meet Signe and to buy a cheap tent. I don’t hold no grieve for him for yelling at me and calling me a bad person. This was Signe’s job to make everything so complicated and make my PR blacker than Barack’s Obama. By the way, mainstream media only lie. Huh, she was so angry on my opinion, that not everything is shiny happy in Sweden, but there are also dark sides of Oslo. Because they are. Shit, never touch the comfort zone of a person that you are dependent of. Or do it, if you value truth enough. Jens, the guy from Rent-a-tent firm, who let me stay at his place (!) an alien in a strange land. This was humane. Salvatore- my friend from Italy, who gave me some good advices. Smoke some marihuana, have sex, drink coffee. Problems with figuring out how to get sex in sex-economy, where everything is valued in scheckles, and girls are so material-oriented (thanks for the propaganda culture invasion, thank you american industry) and guys are gay (i am not a fruitcake, but apparently most of the italian truck drivers are) turned me to joints and coffee. It isn’t that good and healthy, Salvatore, but thank you anyways. I know now, that if you want to smoke you should not have any bigger worries or fears. Mike, the writer (look up my previous entries). Angela- my great friend from Palermo. She told me “Everything will be alright, Paweł”. Duce. My grandma- who would give her last loaf of bread to me. Finally, my polish friends. Some of them are still alive, and fighting for the right to do the things you love, avoiding slavery and humiliation. Many, many people helped me to survive, to get to this point where I am now. Thank you, guys.
I’ve asked my pretty little aide once: “What would be the opening line of my book, if she would be forced to ghostwrite it some day. “Whatever you do- don’t panic”- she replied. I find this very neat. Pretty wise. I wish I could sign under this work, even if it would by someone’s else. Right now I cannot do that because, maybe not that often (like in the past), but still I do panic from time to time. Don’t be angry about the fact that someone else writes my own texts. That’s me. You’ve gotta love me. The first thing they taught me during my Public Relations studies was to outsource every possible task. This art served me particularly well- soon I’ve outsourced even the quest for finishing the school. That way I had more time to feel sorry about my bleak fate. Thanks to successful planning I have the diploma now- very helpful if I need to wrap a sausage urgently or be obliged to show at least one diploma to my prospective in-laws. For me it is not important who writes these words. The crucial part is getting the work done and making new articles see the light, so everyone of us can learn and draw conclusions. That is the purpose of maintaining this blog. Besides, I strongly count on some gains from product placement (cola and cigs’ as usual, but NOT ONLY) and of course from selling my flagship product- USELESS CARDS. It is pleasant that somebody finds pleasure in reading this notes. My aide is veery talented- she has got real gift of effortless writing , her own sense of humor and first of all – she knows English good. Not like me.
Anyways, Giordano, owner of the olive farm I landed by accident, showed me a short vid with Jim Carrey speaking. You know this guy. When I was ten, I’ve peed my pants watching Ace Ventura getting out of rhino’s ass. Later in my life I also peed my pants, but because I was scared. I mean- in fear. Jim Carrey is a guru nowadays, teaching: “All decisions in your life are made in fear or with love, and it depends on you which feeling will prevail”. I think it works like that.
“So courageous!” somebody would say after reading my first note “Cinderella Story”. Going after your dreams, hard work working out for one idealist boy from a poor country, et caetera. I want to be a millionaire, I want to be a famous filmmaker- as written by my previous helper, which obviously cared more about my positive image than precise manipulations of data- which is the definition of PR that I prefer the most from all the definitions presented to me at my funny college. PR-maid who lied is an ex-PR-maid, that’s why I’ve sacked her. Also- because her problems with alcohol but this is a vast topic, which I would like not to touch. At least now. New one is pretty expensive, but she writes only the truth. Doesn’t try to conceal my weak sides. She is beautiful (physically). She has a boyfriend though. I am jinxed with pretty girls- I am rather a horny gay guys magnet. I will cover it different time, warning you in advance that you don’t eat anything during the reading. Anyway, I’ve not escaped Poland to be a millionaire… Such a bullshit. I’ve escaped FROM something. Not with the courage, but in strong fear. I’ve escaped because I was afraid to face my problems back there in Poland. And I have had a couple of them. Still have. Moreover- I’ve made some new ones here, in Sicily. I work for free, so I’ll never buy a ticket to fly away. Maybe I could catch a raft of illegal immigrants, but these are unstable and I would be freaking out all the way to the shore. I’ve met a guy from Gambia here. Almost all of his family was murdered there. His sister’s eyes were pierced out and he also was in danger, that’s why he got to get out of his country. He said that almost all the time they got to take out the water pouring in with good pace and the other raft with one hundred Gambians vanished somewhere without a trace. I wouldn’t like to die. Maybe it isn’t obvious- because i am so grumpy most of the time- I love my life soundly. I can always leave by hitchhiking, but at the moment i am not ready to do that. Was the idea about going to Norway with this guy who loved songs about fucking triggered by my courage? Was the risk that this perfect stranger will not leave me in the middle of nowhere without money, car and the spam from Poland worth undertaking? Is this courage? I mean risking your whole life. Nope. I think no. This is stupid. Don’t do that. (I don’t agree with him. He would never learn anything otherwise. Stupid fuck.- The Aide). You don’t want to live in a wet, cold tent, begging for work or something to eat. This is stupid, don’t do this please. I’ve done this and that does it. I can share the experience. I must warn you. Don’t move to Norway without money. Don’t work for free in Sicily even if they promise you some olive oil. Stay at home. Your grandma always can make some dumplings and do the laundry. If you got to go go to Germany first. Find some precarious work through a shady agency. Whatever. They will take half of your wage but at least give you a shelter in some shack with twenty heavy drinking Poles. After few months you will get the money needed to move to Norway, and there working like a slave for next couple of years you can save some schmeckles. To get a flat you can rent. 600 Euro passive income will settle you in Thailand. You can live like a king there. You will be slave no more. You can even get your own servant, some cheap Asiaman. It is how business is getting done. I am about to endorse my own show about good living. With hints. You cannot wait to see it! Mistakes teach you very fast and I have made so much of them I could easily be a guru in some Aśram. If Jim Carrey will create his own I will certainly send my CV. In fact I can ship you a lesson right now. How to handle fear with success! I know the theoretical rudiments and I’ve managed to minimalize its impacts on my life. I’ve attended numerous psychotherapies, positive-thinking classes and emotional control courses, ten-day Vipassana meditations. I’ve even got a wild frog vaccine or whatever. See my previous entries. If you want. As a guru I always have a parabola to make my teachings more accessible.
It is about a guy who was suffering from fecal incontinence. No doctor could help him, they’ve said that the disease is probably psychosomatic. So, the poor guy tried the different psychotherapies. After ten years of Freudian psychotherapy he met his friend, and was asked:” Do you still shit your pants?”. “Yes, but now I am aware, where it came from!” the patient replied. Still not cured, he chose behavioral therapy. Again, he met the friend. “You still shit yourself?”- he asked. “Yup, but it is better now, because I have rubber pants.”- replied the hero of this sad story. Finally, he went to Gestalt therapy. And again – he bumps into his friend out of the blue and the dialogue goes like this:”Soooooo…. You still defecate in your pants, man?” and the reply:”I still shit myself but i don’t give a fuck anymore.”
There’s a lesson in this story- some things will never change and I need to accept them and move on with my life, despite the circumstances. The fear is also an element of our nature; and we need to accept it but try to reduce its impacts on our decisions. It is easy to forget about it for a moment – getting drunk, or high, but i don’t think it’s about that. There are two kinds of fear for certain. Rational, which is connected with our survival instincts. This kind of fear cannot let the majority of people (except idiots) to put your hand into an open fire or go to the most expensive country of Europe without money, steady job and a place to rest the head. The other kind- irrational one- emerging from deep psychic conditioning and arrest of your development- stops you from talking to a pretty gal, express yourself truly or just have the courage to reach for the life you really would want to live. It forces you to agree for life of mediocrity. I think that having even a little bit of the second one obliges you to fight with it, by all means. I also find any effort put into overcoming this kind of blockage worthy. This is the fight that awaits me. Not to become a famous filmmaker or a millionaire. I want to face this irrational fear to end my slavery in systemic and economical sense, because i am prone to accept them like the guy from the story who sited himself. I don’t want to be a slave of my own mind, my own fear, complexes or my doubts. I’ve started to see the bigger picture, publishing my stories on the internet and being a laughing stock of people here, who presumably have the perfect lives they’ve reached for some time in their youth. Oh, come on. Maybe I am still afraid, using my helpers to write these words. I can still disclaim my creation of this blog putting the fault of my failure on her. Maybe this is this fear. This is schizopreniac stuff. This article was very expensive. If you could support me, try to buy the USELESS CARDS of mine. I thank sincerely everyone who bought this senseless card from me. This is a pity I cannot manage to crowdfund my aide full-time, but maybe some day…
The point is: I want to destroy all my internal and external blockages to manifest and fulfill entirety of my potential – the dreams, plans and ideas which want to come out since I’ve thought about them for the first time. Jim Carrey said that hope isn’t enough. You got to have faith in it and faith ought to be a 100% certainty (wikipedia states that it is 99%, but who cares about this status-quo device anyways). If you got this covered, the Universe cannot outsmart you I mean it should help to materialise your intentions. Am I sure I can succed?! Yes, but still only 99%. LoL.
This is unbelievable! I am still alive, guys, mainly thanks to you and the bonanza of good energy that is thriving lately. Apparently. I couldn’t manage to scramble 320 euro for my aide to help me get out of this place. So, I decided to.. hitchhike! 3300 kilometers by chance. But- I got to introduce you to the stuff I was being into in this period. First of all- still being in Sicily I got the chance to make some lesser money, because my host here told me that I can take some olive oil in exchange, plus – I had the opportunity to work with the equipment I lack at the moment. I’ve made short clips – focused mainly on getting the cash to go elsewhere. I’ve helped my friend from Norway- Ewa Zielonka to get on with her mini-show- something about Magical Stones which were hand-painted and … magical, and tried to push my Useless Card business (I attach this stuff along with this entry).
These stuff where very complicated, because I was short one assistant. My travel-blog turned out a trouble -blog indeed, and she craved money. Because I couldn’t endure more slavery, but – more important- almost constant humiliation – I wanted to get out of this beautiful island as fast as possible. Ewa Zielonka met me here, but she came with a boyfriend, which was weird because I didn’t know that when I’ve informed her about the possibility of staying here a couple of weeks. Because I invited only her. They used to politely ask me to get out of my room when they wanted to fuck. She’s just a pothead. But she also struggles pursuing her happiness, I hope that marijuana addiction would drain her lifeforce out. I attach her project, see by yourself. If you want to.
Anyways, the day of reckoning has came and I got to go. Giordano, the olive grove owner, said that this is the day all Poles got to go. I’ve asked him for some money, and he gave me five euro. He was freaking out because he was on his trip to get the weed. I think he couldn’t live without it anymore. He’s particularly unstable without it. He gave me a lift to Palermo.
Then I’ve stayed with my great friend- Angela. She and her friends – Serena, Emanuele, Carla helped me a lot, acknowledging me that I don’t need to wash the plates to feel safe and have a place to rest my head. I had my own room where I could finally get my shit together. I mean- my mind. And I went to Vucceria a couple of times. Haven’t I told you about this legendary party place? Everybody is here. The place which is a marketplace during the day changes drastically nearing the dusk. If you breathe- you breathe weed. That’s true. A lot of people. All kinds. Hookers one by another. Loud music. I love this city, guys… I don’t know how to say thanks to Angela. She had similar troubles to me. Her parents split up, destroying her sense of safety. Her comfort zone, which was money for law-studies (her father drew the map) blew up when they’ve split. On the other hand: I couldn’t tell no law of the land- maybe this one who protects the more wealthy. Anyway, I couldn’t stay there any longer, because I was dependent, and I wanted to again take the thread of my life into my own hands. Again. Again and again.
And then I lost my go-pro camera. When I left Angela’s place I was so frightened of the road which awaited me- I flushed it down the consumer’s economy for 150 euros. I regret that, but then it seemed reasonable. I haven’t a penny in Palermo. I’ve bought some food, cigarettes, train ticket and a ferry ticket. A small piece of hashish. Maybe it is bad that I couldn’t lie to you guys. Because it is the opposite what PR studies taught me. But I am just a human. I’ve did it and now I am without my tools of trade. Go-pro had several drawbacks (like the damned fish-eye), but it was important. More important- the feeling I am alone, so far away from home; the home which I do not possess. Because I don’t have no comfort zone. You got to try to understand. I’ve panicked. I thought about getting to Holland, to Germany, Berlin, but I’ve never foresighted the outcome. Nevertheless, I felt bad. The only justification was the case- I could easily buy another one or something different, when I could finally get some just job. I spent two nights in a hostel for 40 euros, because I didn’t want to be a burden for my friends anymore (yeah, some of the slave, underworld programming back from my homeworld), being afraid of the road. Finally, I’ve buckled up and left Palermo. This was double sad, because I still wasn’t sure where I should try to end up. This is how fear works. Note it please. Or just remember. The fear puts you in a chaotic place, where you don’t remember what to do, what is the most important stuff and you just seek safety. You don’t operate logically. I am so ashamed, and hopefully you will forgive me guys I couldn’t document it all for you properly. Because IT WAS A HELL OF A RIDE.
And the ride has started. I took a train and shortly after that- a ferry to Reggio di Calabria. When I left the ferry I thought I should find some road leading out of the town. Some guy yelled at me, but I decided not to care. He reached me by his car and said that I should go back. This wasn’t the proper direction. He gave me two pair of shoes, some trousers, a jacket ( I had stuff, but it was not good for the temperatures north of Rome) and some food and told to try catch something near the coastline, by the ferry. I got that plan to catch a ride which is going far to the north. The first driver who took me was a truck driver rushing to Venice. After a few hours driving he stopped, and said that he ought to have a pause now.
He closed the curtains. I stayed on my seat. He asked me if I want to join him, because he had room for two up in the truck. I said ‘no’. He insisted. I said ‘no’ again. And then- he came down to the cab and inquired me of my sexual orientation. I am not gay. Or bisexual. He asked that maybe I want to show my fucking wiener to him after all… Maybe just that. I’ve opposed and after the night drive spent in complete silence he left me somewhere near Bari. Something like the Lost Highway. Really trippy. It was more to come, though.
Next guy stopped and told me that he can help me get to the right road – the road leading out of the town in the proper direction, but first he want to go to the beach and have a bath in the sea. It turned out that it was a naturist beach. Then – he watched my wiener very closely (yeah, maybe it was wrong I’ve undressed there, but nothing told me that the situation will be almost the same) and I thought “what the flying fuck is wrong with these guys”. A few minutes later he swept some dry sand off my buttocks. Yup. That’s what happened. I’ve said : “What the fuck, man?” and he replied “Are you gay?”. “No I am not”- I’ve said. “Maybe this is the right time to be sure you are not gay?” or something like that. After more of this unpleasant weird stuff he gave me 5 euro and gave me a lift. What the heck?!! A girl alone isn’t safe, and a boy also is a easy prey for these lonely, sad guys. Or gays. Or FUCKING EUROPE WHAT IS GOING ON DOWN HERE?!
I was near the Bari football club stadium. I saw a lot of cars going in circles. Was wondering if someone, during the night, is learning how to drive. Also, I’ve met another truck driver, who told me that he will give me a lift, but I got to wait twenty minutes. After twenty minutes he said that he watched a movie. I’ve asked what movie. Of course, it was a movie about two guys having gay sex. He even showed me the clip. I’ve freaked out and preventively told him that I am not gay. He looked disappointed and inquired me about my orientation and had asked if I have small one or big one, eventually. I’ve lied that I have a small dick. I know you shouldn’t lie but I had to. He said I’ve got to wait for him 20 minutes, because he’s got to unload the stuff from the back. I’ve waited, and he haven’t returned. No hitchhiking for straight guys, huh?
When I was waiting something strange happened. In every ten minutes one of the cars driving around the parking lot neared me and somebody asked me “what am I doing here”. I was replying in my italian that I am waiting for my friend. Then I’ve asked what are they doing…. The response was always the same:”Fare il giro.” We are making circles. Duh?
One more approached me. An old guy, when I’ve told him that I am waiting for my friend, he told me that this place is not safe for me. This was the place where homosexuals and transgender people were meeting up. He gave me a lift to the highway, were some good soul helped me go to the north.
Next five days I was sleeping in the forests. Maybe, if I had time and so-so financial stability I will put it into a book of some kind. After all, I’ve managed to get back to …. Poland. That’s right guys, after all this shit I’ve ended up the place where I was born. Almost there.
I have so much to tell you, but this is so difficult, since I am so poor. This was a dream I could achieve easily if I would had some money, but I don’t have nothing. And- after all- almost nobody wants to see the true reports. The truth. People are in fear, lets face it. I am not the only one, I am just a person, who dared to speak out. What are the consequences? I feel this whole continent now, I understand the stuff what is going on in Italy, Spain, France, Germany, even Greece. We are fucked, and we live on borrowed time. Something just isn’t right, huh? Maybe you agree. I wish I could document the stuff properly. Thanks for the support for all the good souls, I am trying to survive and for sure – you can count for some info from me in the near future. But I don’t know how long. I love you guys. But I am gay NOT.
It’s no longer a secret, that my assistant runs this blog on my behalf… Let me clarify that. I am not writing these words. I haven’t written this sentence either.
My – unpaid up until now – internet activities assistant is doing it for me. I simply don’t have time for that as I’m usually busy with scrambling out of trouble that I constantly get myself in.
It would also be difficult for me to concentrate to write something by myself. I have terrible problems with concetrating and not just with that… Besides, I have no internet connection. Because I don’t have it at home. Becouse I don’t have a home and even if I did, my Macbook Pro, that I got as a gift from European Union, isn’t working.
It broke in Norway, when I lived in a tent in Oslo because I couldn’t afford a room. Anyway you know the story if you’ve read my previous posts. I mean not my posts, but my assistat’s: let me remind you, she is writing this article for me. What was I saying? Yeah. The computer isn’t working. I’m really worried. It soaked in the tent and you can’t turn it on.
I’m now on Sicilly, living on a village and helping as a volunteer for food and shelter. There used to be this Liboryo guy here and together we tried to fix this Mac, but with no luck. It’s many strange people passing thru this place. Most of them are strongly addicted to weed. I dont like that. Once we hosted group of musicians- the girl was from Brazil and her Pakistan boyfriend. There was also Italian violinist so I created a simple music video of them to shere this moment with you.
Don’t ask me how I ended up here, it’s really a long story and now that I have to pay my assitant, I can’t afford to tell it. I have already payed for this article from the money I gain in France on picking grapes. It was 3 euro for 4 thousands sings so I need to be concise. Kurde… now I’m thinking that again I’ve spent last money in a stupid way. She is going to write some stupid stuff again and this article is going to suck just as the previous ones which she probably wrote drunk.
I digress too much. Back to the main point. I am on Sicilly, and honstly, despite decent weather and the beauty of surrounding nature, I would prefere to get out of here and change the situation into one in which I could earn money and decide by myself what I want to eat and who I want to hang out with. Sometimes working here for free I feel like a regular slave, especially since I don’t really have anywhere to escape to and I don’t have much money for the move. That’s why everyday I wake up and work here almost completely for free. Well, almost for free, because I do get food and shelter. I do various things. I clean a lot, feed the animals and since the olives picking season is coming, I cut the branches of the olive trees so that you can put the net on them. Sometimes I even bake bread.
But honestly, these are not my dream activites. I would really want to report the weird situation and places which I keep getting myself to. And get money out of that. Preferably, intriguing film reports, but could also do photos or articles. I even believe slightly that I will succeed one day, so I already started this blog http://www.pawel24.com, which now looks as it does, but maybe in the future it will take off properly… I mean so far my assistant is running the blog for me, but anyway it’s mainly my thought and reflections even if she adds some bullshit of her own.
I can’t blame her, as she wrote all the previous articles for free and she won’t make much money on this one either. And it is possible that this will be the last article, because I really can’t afford to pay her. She can be demotivated and not really try to write well. So here I would like to ask: could someone please sponsor her? She takes 2 EURO per hour. If someone would like to help me on that, please email me: firstname.lastname@example.org. Also, You can support my project by buying USLESS CARDS.
I have few new models and they are cheaper then those for Norwegian market.
Optionally you can donate on this crowfounding campaignan wich I created and all the money will be spent on my assistant’s salary. Generally it would be good to have her full time, so that she would help via Skype with other stuff, like the escape from Sicily for instance. Shering this post with Youre friends it is also a great help for me.
In Poland an assistant like that costs 2 euro per hour, so in order to pay her for the first experimental month of working 8 hours per day, five days per week I would need to collect 320 euro. Its seems to be a lot what I’m asking Universe this time but also I know that many of You are willing to support me in my ridiculous ideas so I strongly belive that this one is gonna succeed. Then we will see what will happen next.
Her name is Kasia and she is a third year literature weekend student. She’s very talented and also very pretty.
i am an adventurer from Poland, who’s dream is to get some money, which i need to free myself from the shackles of modern slavery. Yes, thats true; i am a slave to the system which feeds on the faith of so-called normal people. I am a traveler, filmmaker, a poet, journalist and to put it simply- I am an artist of life. Every day that i get through is an masterpiece. Very often i find myself drowning in shit and fecies of reality. I get in trouble, rarely by my own fault, rather with help of helpful dickheads. A friend told me once i am very naivee. I used to suffer a lot, emotionaly and my nervous system got heavy damage from harsh polish realities. Let’s face it- it is impossible to be left alone, to just be; without serious capital or constant working. Who wants to do stupid jobs for richer people? I am supposed to work my ass off till i drop out and i’ll be calm in a fucking coffin. There is no possibility to thrive doing something you like to do. You got to give something up. Be a maggot. Fuck, eventually every one of my friends ends up working in a stressful and pointless way or living with them parents. I have a couple of ‘weird’ (for general population) friends, the vagabonds, wanderers, artist, musicians. The percentage of people being alive is dramatic though. The system kills the poor bastards who want to live their lives. You can either conform or slowly .
What the shit?!
Before my escape from Poland (there should be a movie with this title, it is very catchy) I’ve decided to vaccinate myself, because I knew my plan could be hard to complete without a great deal of luck. I tried the Kambô (made from a poisonous frog) vaccination. Earlier I thought that my aim is to achieve safety and zone of comfort (after all I like to be comfortable) with the money I would have earned in Norway. In the course of events I finally understood, that the real goal is to find the peace of mind and maybe the idea about getting the loads of NOK money is only an obstacle. The “vaccine” is an application of very strong poison. Suddenly you are starting to feel very bad. Your whole body tries to defend itself, it wants to live- with you or not aboard… The reaction is very fast and soon you are vomiting, sweating and shitting at the same time. I’ve heard that CEO’s of big corporations are heading to South America to make themselves fearless. After this you should not be afraid of the worst. At length you are coming back to your senses. Stronger, more enduring. Fearless. I’ve got my vaccination in Czech Republic.
I belive that all further hard experiences wich Im passing thru are just another Kambo vaccination for me, to make me stronger and stronger.
Last days in Oslo
After Signe threw me out of her apartment and accused me of theft, i had a hard times down in good ol’ Oslo. Between you and me- maybe it is easy to live up in Hardanger with help from my friends, different situation found me in the capital of Norway. There’s a lot of people living off the richer ones, Gypsies, beggars, street musicians, garbage collectors. I’ve began to ask people in the suits. They are supposed to be rich as hell, seeing all this fucking unnecessary ultra expensive shit they are buying. Nobody would help me. I was asking for something to eat, anything really. They weren’t interested, or just ignored me. Sometimes they’ve said something. “Get your shit together”. “It is your fault you’ve ended up in such a mess…”, “You must be from eastern Europe” etc. Slaves. They aint more alive than a fucking robot. They are the real slaves, addicted to this shit and to this combustion civilisation. The people of the lie. Anyways, got no problem with smoking, since I could easily find something on the ground. I don’t drink so it isn’t a problem. When I saw two guys dressed in expensive suits standing by impressive cars I’ve asked for help. They said they are just regular slaves- chauffeurs of some shitheaded prince or whatever. They were more humane to me.
I’ve met a famous artist – Pushwagner. It looks like every country should have a person who behaves oddly and can make some money off that. La boheme, blah blah. I just want to eat. I could make thousands of these kind of pictures, I used to paint also. Yes! But I needed the food to survive. The paintings of Pushwagen are mostly about conformity. I think they are wack. Pushwagner is an rockstar here. Of course he didn’t give me anything, he just told me to see his paintings. Whatever.
I’ve also found some famous actor. He told me about his life for thirty minutes, which I politely listened to, while being hungry and tired. Wet and frustrated. I felt pretty sick and sad. After the inspirational story he left.
I tried the homeless shelter. It costs you 15 NOK. You can easily make it with returnable bottles. Every evening there is a lottery. The winner gets an opportunity to sleep under the roof. The losers got to go wherever. I didn’t make it on time for the lottery.
I tried to sell some Useless Cards on the street for 100 NOK each after I noticed that Norwegian like to spend money for nothing. With a little chat with potential clients- i’ve sold four of them just in one hour. I really don’t recommend this product but I still got some so You can buy it here if You want to support my °project°.
I spent that money for a night in a hostel and a pack of cigarette and coke. Couldn’t sleep in a tent anymore. Or the drug addicts- park. A lot of excluded in the capitalist paradise. Junkies. Whores. Street.Ugly, not succesful. This is their fault.
Pushwagen’s art is well connected. Look it up if you want to. I saw the other world- the world of empty suits. For real, these kind of people rule the world right now and believe me- they have an influence on our lives, much much bigger we would think. It is sad, but maybe it will change. Someday I could have my peace within without working for 16hours daily. Like a polite slave.
After the night in the hostel I was broke again. I had some Useless Cards wiich I could easly sell on the streats of Oslo and maby become milionaire on that business very fast…. But I was not in the mood for to do that. I was in the mood to escape from Norway like I escaped from Poland before.
So I went for the road, again.I was going to hitch-hike to France. I’ve caught the ride with Mike and his girlfriend, Ana. They’ve helped me a lot. Seriously.
Mike is the author of a good fantasy-adventure book. The Guardian – Blood in the Sand (M.J. Kobernus). He is also a dedicated Starcraft 2 player. Top500.
Moreover, It turned out that I was going in the wrong direction. After hearing my story, they’ve let me sleep at their place, gave pizza and my beloved coca-cola.. They ve bought me a ticket and Mike gave me a lift the aiport at 4am next day. Wow, really- Its hard to express by words how thankfull Im for those amazing people. It is hard even for my clever unpaid assistance who writes this blog post insted of me, while Im picking grapes in France.
Pawel’s unpaid assistant
Oslo is like a dream of a schizophreniac. Or something extremely oxymoronic like Jekyll&Hyde. Perfectly calm during the day, with ideal families strolling and children playing on the lawns, the inhabitants very polite and kind for each other. It reminds me an 50′ american dream poster with everything under control. Under that – a purulent ulcer of the excluded- people without future and just too much past. They crawl their nests late into the afternoon. They manifest themselves as ragged homeless junkies, raging through the dimmed streets looking for a fix, poor old drunkards, Gypsies with . People of every age, with destroyed livers, damaged brains and no purpose whatsoever. Maybe i am too sensitive. I think not though, it should be normal for general human population to have some compassion. The thing is- i am one of them, the excluded, the people not needed by the system to operate normally. The gap doesn’t interest anybody with a job and money (or indebted, which is more likely – at least the people of the streets don’t have to worry about paying up the debts, shiiit). I mean- it looks a lot like the system is inhumane, or outlandish for the earth, since the gap widens, and the poor are poorer when the rich get richer. Nobody offered me marihuana on the street of Poland. Here drug dealers just swarm me and offer me whatever I like. Come on, Oslo, heroine? I don’t need no stinking heroine. I saw them- the hollow-eyed guys laying by the walls. Zombieland. Signe said I am rude to say bad things about Norway, but this is it. This is how the situation looks for the foreigner, people. Sadly, it is just her and her comfort zone. The “Haves” don’t see any problems if they never were closer to the “Have-nots”. There’s a popular polish saying, which can be translated into “a man full of food can never understand a hungry man.” All this is pretty weird. Maybe they are lazy? Why am i continuing with my dreams, i can end up like them when something in me will break during the hardships. I don’t like drugs did I mention? They can wipe out your brains. I’ve tried some of the recreational drugs, but the natural ones. I don’t drink. Usually. But enough about me. Something about the stasis I got into.
After the Rent&Tent job I’ve needed some rest. I mean – it is all just fun and games till you have dry socks, some warm place to rest your head after the work. I’ve been sleeping in the goddamn tent, while working for Jens. He was humane to me. I want to thank him here (and all the good people who are helping me with my epochal project) and wish him all the best with the business. I still got to prove to him that employing a person back in Poland is affordable in my current situation. So I’ve got back to Oslo to search for new possibilities and sleep in eight-person hostel room (240NOK~ something like 40euro/120PLN). I am running out of money now and I am starting to feel boxed in. There is nothing except work in Norway for polish migrant. Or a refugee? Or whatever. We escape the poorer areas of Europe to get money, finding the improvised conditions of living unhabitable. I’ve heard about a girl who used to sleep on paper cartons and eat only tesco junk food in Great Britain to get the big numbers fast. Money, money, money. Everything revolves around the golden calf. What’s with the prostitution and the sponsors for young girls in need of pointless education tuition cash? What’s with that, central planners?
I think the problem can be so simple. Look at them. The central planners, the politicians regulate almost every aspect of our life with the law. Yup. The law and the money flow. It is so complicated I just think my head will blow up sum day. Cut the education for the people, boost funds for the police! Brilliant!f
I don’t think that the people which opted out the rat race are guilty of something. I see huge systemic failure right here. But I will elaborate further on it some other time.
Because I am in need of a fistfull of NOKoronen, to live through the coming days. Also – i need to pay the hard cash to my sidekick back in Poland, who is writing this very text. Yep. She is working as a volunteer right now, just to help me, but she also has bills to pay. I need some funds to continue my great job from this capitalist paradise, cause it is indeed- a paradise for people with money, and a hell for poor bastards like me. I mean- look at this place- maybe they start taxing people for breathing or whatever.
I’ve met a guy named Marcus. He inspired me to re-think my business model. It isn’t a bussiness model in the first place. Unimportant- the thing is Marcus is the owner of some luxury cigarettes shop and he distributted leaflets about the shop all by himself. He told me that he is a tiger-type hunter- he got only few leaflets because he knows what kinds of people are interested in his offer and this (the leaflets) is the most important job in the business. So be it, the advertisement as the leverage of your trade.
I don’t avoid hard work. For me the work of my life is to stay alive. It would be a perfect achievment from a member of precaryat. Yes, go and google it up, friend. Look what is that sil vous plait. A new class in the place of the good ol’ middle class. We all shoudlve realised our american/european/polish/norwegian dream already, huh?
I therefore plead to Universe to put me on the proper position. My position is not in a tent. I don’t want to feel all the shades of fear, don’t want to be hungry or wet or dead. Also: I could use some prepaid phone top-up and some money.
When I need bananas, Universe gives me bananas. If I need a proverbial fishing rod, I get it also. I am thankful, dear Universe.
One more thing: I am sure this will work, because it makes sense.
It all makes sense, what do you think, dear Universe?
Pawel’s unpaid assistant