Getting some fun out of life – (Anarchism)

by Milla

Today’s song: Getting some fun out of life with Billie Holiday. Below a cover:


So. Here I am. In Finland. Few persons around who can relate to what the hell I’m about (or: going on about). Me: Two arms. Two legs. Longing for love and acceptance. Fully human. Normally messed up. Just like anybody else.

Got some emails passed on to me today. Again a discussion about “Milla”.

Haven’t finished reading it through yet. But I know i got a new hero for sure. A woman with persistence and conviction: Explaining and explaining. Not giving in or up. Annoying the hell out of an impatient angry few — What the silent masses are about (??) — I don’t know!

It’s a discussion on how a decision was made on excluding me [or: not including me..!] from a mailing list a couple of years ago. A conversation on how discussions and decisions are made within anarchist communities and spaces. The woman is patiently (and with spark!) connecting the dots for the ones interested in breaking with domination and hierarchies. With determination breaking through labels such as “spam” and “paranoid”.

I hope she didn’t experience it as a complete waste of time. That she had some fun with it.

Making a loop: Had yet another weird day in my weird life two days ago. Was super careless and got caught taking some tooth-floss in a store. And happened to have a pocket knife on me. Which apparently is completely illegal. No knife no matter how small in public spaces anymore. Spent some hours at the police station. Had a long conversation with a man. She took photos and finger prints. Trying to convince me that there are better ways to challenge the system. Legal ways. I tried to say that most of what I do is legal. Like having the talk with her for instance. When she was preparing the papers with the fine I sang a bit of a song I know:

“When we want to work we work,

when we want to play we play,

you can do your betting,

we’re getting some fun out of life.

Maybe we do the right thing,

maybe we do the wrong.

Spending each day just wending our way along.

But, when we want to sing we sing,

when we want to dance we dance,

you can do your betting,

we’re getting some fun out of life.”

I started singing cause the environment was so depressing. — Just a few minutes before, the paper work of another person had been finished and the name of the guy was called out. And then someone remembered “Aah, the guy is locked up”. So a police-man opened the door into our barren waiting space and opened a heavy green metal door right next to the bench where I was sitting. A guy coming out from a dark smelly small room. Had been sitting there with no lights on.

Looking around there were messages written, scratched into the walls, benches and doors. All the persons on our side, waiting for the people on the other side of the mirror-windowed-wall to get done with the bureaucracy, the people sitting on the “wrong” side with our freedom and possessions taken away, so messages had been made with whatever happened to be available. Some had been lucky enough to get a pen through. Or a lighter: Burning a message into the wall.

A bit of tooth-floss. And a pocket knife. And probably the fact that I spoke openly of what I saw: A flawed and violent system. Maybe getting caught stealing a few months ago affected it as well. Enough to get me registered.

It’s official. My way of playing this game called ‘life’ is a marginal phenomenon.

M-anarchism or police. Makes no difference to me.

Happiness comes every once in a while when I see others suffocating from boredom. Like the woman writing emails. Trying to convince the others to try a new game.

Oh how I wish we were more to play. It would be more fun that way.

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