My name is Nataniel Zaher and tonight I’m 100 years old. Now you probably imagine a crumbling old pile of flesh and bones, packed in a bag of wrinkled skin, who moves his hand up and down onto the keyboard like he puts down nails into the lid of his coffin. In reality it’s not that bad: if I could reflect in mirrors, I’d see a thirty year old man of truly Arian appearance and in a decent package. One could say that I look somewhat angelic- and he could not be more wrong.
My first teenage discovery was that people do what they do only to indulge in themselves: feel pleasure from any sensitive zone from toes to brain. Especially, brain- the whole social game is a kind of mental masturbation, where everyone cums from whatever fucks his brain now. From humiliating and being humiliated. From loving, from hating, from being loved and hated. From fucking others up and being fucked up. From doing too much and from doing nothing. From idolising himself and pulling himself through the mud. From acting a sinner and a holier-than-thou. Such a bunch of masturbating psychopaths, pretending to go insane in the same way. Just the company I love and need so much.