sneak preview?

I know I havent really told anyone, but I'm writing a book. Or atleast I'm trying to. One of the reasons I havent told anyone is because this isnt the first book I've started to write, but I surely hope that I will finish this one. I obviously never finished any of the other ones lol. And before anyone asks, no its not an autobiography, and its far far from finished. As I said, it might never even get finished. Anyway, I thought my faithful readers (i write that with sarcasm) should get a chance to get to read a short bit from what I've got so far. And sorry ladies, its not a romance, more like a thriller I would say.

Enjoy.

"My name is Henry Jonas. I'll be 35 years old tomorrow. Tomorrow I will also become a killer. My victim does not yet know what awaits him, he's still asleep from the drugs I gave him.

       I had my first experience with death when I was 8 years old. Me and some friends were playing in a small forest close to where we lived, when we found this local woman who had hung herself. While all the other kids ran off screaming and yelling, I just stood there. Watching her. It was almost as if I were hypnotized, I couldnt take my eyes off her. It was beautiful. The woman herself was not a beautiful sight, with her swollen blue face, eyes halfway popped out of her skull. But the scene itself, it was so quiet. There was no blood, just the woman hanging there in the tree, silent. Never again would she speak another word, never again would she laugh or cry. The whole thing was like poetry without words, like a rare piece of art. Later in my life I would understand that what I had seen that day was the ultimate sacrifice, the sacrifice of ones own life. But right then and there it was as if I felt a connection with this woman. I must have been standing there for atleast 15 minutes, it was as if time stood still. There was nothing else but me and her. Even today, almost 30 years later, I can still see her when I close my eyes. The sirens from the police cars woke me up from my mysterious daydream, and I somehow understood that I had to leave before they got there. The thought of having adults question me about this scared me alot more than the woman herself did. I didn't know her name, but in my mind I called her Jessica. She followed me through my childhood like a big sister. Jessica was always there, in the back of my head, ready to give me advice, ready to comfort me. I never had alot of friends when I grew up, I always kept to myself. But that was ok, I wasnt really intrested in friends anyway. They thought I was weird, I thought they were childish, even beeing a child myself. But I could always count on Jessica to be there for me."

Sexmonsters!

First off.

I would like to ask all my readers (thats right, both of you) to try and give me some feedback on this blog. A quiet audience is hard to please. It would also make it easier for me to try and estimate how many (if any) readers I have. So please take a minute to let me know what you think of this blog so far. If you dont have an account here and dont want to make one, you can always leave a comment on my facebook. So, give me some love! Show me that you exist!

Second off.




Women are sexmonsters. They just tend to hide it very well. Just think of all the porn women read all the time.

Porn you ask?

Notice how I said read. Thats the difference between men and women. Men watch porn while women read porn. As an example, take all those Jane Austen books.

Porn.

Just because there's no nude pictures in the books doesnt make it any less porn. The pictures (and the real action) is whats going on inside the womans mind when she reads.

Then they cover up their porn with words like "romance", because they dont want to admit to beeing addicted to porn.

Why do you think by the way that its mostly women who are all obsessed about vampires? Its not because they are romantic. Or because they look good. Its because of the sex.

A vampire is the only man a woman know for certain will go down on her everyday for atleast 1 week per month.

Ofcourse they find that appealing! Most guys would want a girlfriend like that as well.

Racism

It has to be the single absolute most stupid thing you could use as an excuse for hating someone. The message you send to people by beeing a racist is that you are not intelligent enough to come up with a real reason for hating on someone.

- See that guy over there?
- Who?
- That guy, over by the car right there.
- Oh yeah, what about him?
- I really hate him, alot. I wanna kill that guy so bad.
- Why? What did he do?
- He didnt do anything, but just look at him. Standing there with his groceries beeing all black. How dare he?
- ....

Does that even make sense? If you gonna hate on someone, atleast do it right. I'm no racist, I'm all for equality. Which means I hate everyone equal, no matter race, gender, age or weight. If you wanna hate like a pro, you gotta find the small individual things with people that are worth hating. It doesnt have to make sense to anyone else really, but atleast come up with something better than generalizing someone by the way they look. Hate them because of what they wear, because they have bad breath, because they are actully an idiot.

I'd bet anything that anyone who claims to be a racist, can under the right circumstances fall in love with someone from the race they are hating on. Which makes the whole racist thingy even more invalid. You cant hate on a whole race but one person. Thats even more stupid.

It'll be like saying "I really really hate strawberries, cant stand them. Well except for that one over there. Its the best god damn strawberry in the world. Damn I love that strawberry, but only that one. Why you ask? Because that one is different from all the others ofcourse"

Are you shitting me? I got news for you. ALL strawberries are different from each other. Not 2 are the same (without the help of some gene manipulation).

There's only one correct way to eat strawberries by the way, with whipcream and sugar. And then only as an excuse to have the whipcream and sugar.

While on the subject of hate, and strawberries.

I've been told that I'm passive agressive. I never really thought about it before, but I guess I am. I dont walk up to someone and just punch them in the face. What am I? A frickin cave man?

To be passive agressive is an art really. I usually use sarcasm as my weapon of choice. Either you'll run in to someone who isnt intelligent enough to understand what you are doing, which makes it extremely funny. And in this case no one gets hurt, because he has no idea im messing with him anyway.

Then there's those people who get really really mad, which is also kind of fun in a way. This is where the art comes in to play.

Have you ever provoked and insulted someone you dont know? And someone who at the moment is extremely mad at you, so mad that they might even hit you in the face any minute?

See, the art is to either insult them in a way they dont understand, or that confuses them enough so they dont know how to react. Its not easy I tell you. And the times when you happen to do this to someone who is aggressive and might get physical, its even more of a challange. Because once they're as mad as a hornet, you gonna have to convince them (really fast) that it was all their fault, and they totally owe you an apology now (preferably before you get punched really hard, after works too but hurts more).

Well, even if you should get punched its not the end of the world. Atleast it was fun while it lasted. And if you are really brave (and got really good reflexes) you can keep insulting them while they're trying to hit you. Key word here though is "trying". If you just refuse to fight back, and manage to avoid him or her when they're doing their very best to crush your face they will not only be insulted by what you did before, now they're embarrassed as well.

I realize all this probably makes me look like a dick, but I'm really not that bad. I'm a decent guy, deep inside. Really deep inside.

I have a dream.

So I've been told that I do stupid, irresponsible stuff most of the time, and been called out to be weird and odd for that. But why?

I do have a masterplan, I really do. Just because you dont know of my plans, or because you dont understand them I'm stupid and dont make sense? I'm not going to reveal my masterplan, because its mine. But it involves not beeing bored to death.

So, if I quit my job, sell everything I own and jump on the first plane I can find room at on the airport, its actually part of my plan. It may seem like a stupid thing to do, and it might even be stupid in a way. But from my point of view its not stupid.

It doesant really matter if I end up doing prison time in south africa for driving without driving license, or if I end up having to build a raft out of coconut shells to get off some deserted island. I would still not see it as a loss.

Years from now (I hope) when I'm dying I can either pat myself on the back and say to myself,

"Good boy Zan, you have worked hard all your life and you have spend your entire life in the safety of your own backyard. You didnt take any risks at any time, and can now die knowing you have always been safe, always made rational desicions."

Or I can say,

"Yeah, things got really messy a few times, and I screwed up alot along the way. And here I am, and old man cherishing his memories of the adventures he had when he was young. Things might have looked really bad at times, but these days I can look back and laugh about it. Atleast I know I did everything in my power to live a full life"

Which one do you think I'll chose?

I see people everyday that in my opinion have empty, mellow lives. But its their choices, and I'm not telling them they are crazy for that. If they wanna live a safe, secure and BORING life, its their choice.

Work at the same place for 50 years, have your house, your car, your dog, your summer house. With every single year looking exactly the same. Work, eat, sleep and get drunk on the weekends. And you call this a life? You call me weird? The only thrilling things that'll ever happen in your life will be when you gossip about what others have done in their lives.

Thanks, but no thanks.