Adrenaline not Caffeine

For a half year I did not feel any thrills from anything; it was a feeling of adrenaline-bombard over the head, with the mixed smell of body odor and cigarette-butts. This feeling keeps pushing me to do some public-facility-fucking-up, to ride a bike and read out loud the poem or manifesto come up into my head, or simply participate whatever and grab anything and write and document and sleep for 4 hrs and wake up...Yeah! No. seldom this feeling come into my me for this half year. Most of the time I am just confused, about how friends keep saying solidarity becomes the one alienates everyone the most often, how an artivist becomes a social elite and how every protest becomes a trade-off. Nevertheless I am the most confused about and pissed by myself. For bitching others I am simply conscious of the passiveness about myself. And when it comes to any exciting project, it's just like a flash and after three or four weeks what I wanted to do were left behind.

Then here I am in Medan, Indonesia. I consider something here give me the cure and provide me a solution. Not yet happened at least these two weeks. I sit in the house, thinking about the roosters and cats. Drunken street punks. Cheap weed. Sour tuak. Punk and many more punks and then punks only. Then I felt the hollowness for being in punk scene. For after all these years it's just beer-can piles and cigarretes and stupid jokes and mosh-pits and same idiotic identity problems of who is punk and who is not... Then those punk kids 10 years ago are either smart enough or normal enough not to claim him or herself as a punk...

So it is all within a minute when I stop buying any hype of micro-ism or guerilla warfare in everyday practice or ithcy adbusters...,and start to miss the enemies and friends and a tiny possibility of radicalness without any posterity and pretension. Finally I am secured now.