Of the war, we do not know. We hear shots in the distance, an island filled with a different kind of columbine but the effect is the same and a nation is shocked while the wave comes crashing. Of the war, we've heard little. They say the first casualty of war is the truth and we've been in this war on terror for a few years now, we point fingers and some of us hope for a good old fashioned muslim terrorist while others of us hope for a nutjob because it would make our political environment more edible, nothing more than a can of tuna in oil poured over a bowl of spaghetti, we hope for the return of status quo but it won't come
We'll forget like we always forget the war until it's something someone can write about and we can read it, fed it. Something changed in us because shit like this usually don't happen here- someone detonating a fertilizer bomb and then executing close to a hundred people to create a buzz for his manifesto and it is a manifesto of fear though it reads like truth and for him it was. I'm of the bent that people that really want to do something will get it done, the maddest of them all will always slip through the cracks until the law is governed by robots
Of the war, we hear only screams for blood. First any muslim and then we cry out for libya and some say it's a nine eleven and in some ways it could have been had there been truth of any kind in those first few days but it was us, just us. A former prime minister said "Det er typisk norsk å være god" which translates to It's typical norwegian to be good and it's not that kind of good but the other kind, the skills, the skiing and the snow, the cooking the peacebrokering god knows what else, our brilliance, us, new-rich baby seal clubbers and now we scream for it again like we shrieked almost ten years ago for our brothers and sisters over the pond but this story is circular
From the war, we hide our faces as we see what we have done as we feel the hivemind watching down and double tapping young adults that believed in state controlled hospitals, rehabilitation and not punishment for criminals and other kind pink social democratic principles. Of the war, we build a pit and fill it with twigs and gasoline and we will burn him here, we will set him ablaze, an old viking funeral or the burning of a witch and as we feel the scent of hair in our nostrils, stinging as we cough and burn the biggest fucker since quisling, we feel relieved and tranquil, we look at each other and we all feel the same
empty
of the war, we hear whispers of things we don't know. The emptiness is lying there for us to grasp it and we will, we're allowed our rage, to lash out and perhaps another lone gunman will end him and there will be a symmetry in the lack of percieved justice and we've done this before and we'll do it again and all that is above is also below. Some say these are twilight hours but they're normal hours, these are ordinary hours where people work sleep eat fuck drink drugs and the world will resume once more but we'll tell each other something changed in our world but we'll never say it was our perception for that would give him what he wants so we'll stare out into the horizon
of the war, we hear its being fought in a padded cell
Wow. :mittens:
Quotebut it was us, just us.
I read this, and thought at first that you meant the victims in a sort of conspiracy theory way, an inside job. Then I realized that we are all us. All the humans on the planet. And then I was enlightened. :D
Even though I am accustomed to belittling others who think in us vs. them mentality, I fail to recognize the ways in which I think that way myself, e.g. by identifying "others" who think in "that" way.
Well done.
:mittens: