Written by Hi! This is the summary from February 2026 where we discuss applying for grants, possible ecofascists amongst data center people, quite neurospicy material touching on unaliving, violence and seeming paranoia, what really happened with my dog, and a new house.
CW: Unaliving, violence, seeming paranoia
I’m Aleya, and I founded Fastfrwrd.info. I have been carrying out a Carbon Neutral Strike where I avoid oil, gas and plastic as much as I can. I have been posting daily updates since Earth Day, April 22, 2025 on this process as well as my musings about the world as it is now.
Early feb 2026
Doing up a minimalistic budget for an arts and culture grant. All little finnicky wordpress upgrades for the site and the wordpress ecosystem as a whole so people can make fun communities like this. That said I may have to tailor the budget depending on cost to fit the budget to instead dedicate it to learning php ecologically, getting courses (I already have one) and basically coding all those changes myself, paying myself to learn how to code and implementing changes to code myself. Could even include a tutor budget. Don’t know. Perhaps they want to fund action rather than learning so it may be a gamble. Perhaps I will send both proposals. Dunno. Pff. Hate all a dis. Just want to work and get value like when I Time Bank. I did work. It was ecological. Somebody will appreciate it. But I got the value for it and can go spend it cause I did work. And I put it for sale. It is evident that I produced it (unless I faked some AI crap). I really like that surprise feature it just makes me think so differently. The amount of work I have done that has gone unanswered… having immediate feedback from work done is so satisfying.
Not eligible for grant, they don’t mean rhe whole Caribbean, just undeeserved islands. Ha. Well. Opens up my schedule.
Early feb 2026
What if the data centers are a race to replace humans so much that they can kill some of us and that’s why they don’t care that wells are running dry to cool data centers. What if it’s a race between us preventing the growth and them having enough to start getting rid of people, ‘save the planet’ or themselves, and have machine slaves and balmier weather in the north, all neat and tidy. How likely, how probable? Someone’s thinking about it.
February 2026 post likely right after Valentine’s day:
[Future Aleya: This is a very neurospicy post, cw unaliving, violent thoughts, what may be seen as paranoia and more. If you dont wanna hear it, skip.]
Funny the things you’re not supposed to say to not upset or give responsibility to others like idly wondering about looking up painless ways to go so i stop picturing myself slicing my neck with a knife because that sounds painful. You’re not supposed to publish things like that on the timeline because people think you’re unstable, people will accept your death as suicide should you perish at someone else’s slippery hand and it’s not polite. And it’s ‘weak’.
Everything has been escoriated. My social circle is not pleasant what is left of it. This is a different sort of person or behaviour that I am not made to handle it literally bucks against my weaknesses.
My brain no longer produces dopamine. After not producing serotonin anymore either. I thought myself lucky to have escaped diabetes with medication, I was only ever pre-diabetic. It was a cosmic favour to not overburden me. I was already crippled.
I do not know how many periods I have left before I am out of eggs.
I may have to face the fact that I cursed myself when I said I did not want to pass on my bad diabetes, hypertension, bipolar-prone genetics when I was young and not bothering to go to a doctor when my period stopped. I always wanted to adopt. I did not always want to pass on my genes.
I do now, and instead, socializing is painful, there seem to be no honest prospects, and all I have are the memories of what love and feelings felt like when my hormones balanced for the first time and I understood what attraction was in my 30s.
Jamaica is one of the first places to change from permanent climate decline. I have as a part of my carbon neutral strike resolved to not leave until I find an ecological way. I also have a semi-boycott of places I need to file for a visa because it just means if I don’t fulfil the criteria, I’ll get kicked out and still be stuck in Jamaica but without even having done the work to build here, instead investing elsewhere then getting kicked out.
Would I get kicked out? I don’t know. I’ve failed out twice before. I have been some kind of homeless multiple times in my life. I usually leave the place when it gets too hard to hold on to a house.
Strange things are happening, things I cannot talk about without endangering myself and my brand because it is factually illogical unless I assume some gradiose things about myself.
If what has been presenting evidence for itself for MULTIPLE YEARS is true, it proves something really gross and unspeakable about humanity that is the main reason why I refuse to believe it.
What are desperate people planning and at whose expense and for what assinine emotionally-tinged reason? What are people doing in the face of annihilation, quotidien and glacially paced but melting just like our glaciers.
Then of course the political backdrop. People get power and lose power and one party then the next and the same bureaucratic, slow and colossal, aggressive and hyper-armoured to protect from returned aggression.
Sometimes it feels like everybody needs to die or I need to die because it can become unbearable.
I know I bounce back though. I still haven’t accepted schizo-affective bipolar, I have taken it in stride and have treated it like bipolar-level-2. Not a different type of diagnosis. Because I am still more or less myself.
But the vulnerability that comes with this is not like bipolar. Bipolar you get happy and you get sad. Schizo-affective you add things to reality and you get mad.
Different kettle of fish. All voices I have heard have been helpful. When I was at the beach and had abandoned the dog, and wanted to rest before night fell in case the fruits salesman I had been following did not take me in off the streets that night, or if he tried to have sex with me on night one instead of waiting a bit, then I would need my rest. The sound of ‘No’ escaped from the waves, the waves SOUNDED LIKE (I emphasize because that is how it starts, things SOUND LIKE things and make sense or something someone said that is emotive echoes in your head, or you imagine what people would say and it offers comfort so you don’t question in while you’re in trouble.)
The waves wanted me to finalize the plan. Go home with the fruits man and get Juneplum back the next day or some other day, and escape from that house in St. Ann and eat healthy and be near a free beach and start an island revolution. Instead I slept on the beach, ‘No’s in my ear. If I had listened to the ‘voices’, I would maybe still have my dog.
And then because of her name. Because of my name. Because of the stories I like and talk about and relate to. I cannot even ask for the dog without looking some type of way. I can’t even look for her because it looks some type of way.
And in any case for a long time I did not want her back because she had these weird quirks, I was somewhat in communication with her and it KEPT ON MAKING SENSE. I wondered if she was a robot or a demon. If I had fucked her brain smoking around her cause dogs stay high when they get high.
And of course the driver who yelled at us to turn back. The roadkill lining the street as we walked. The tainted mangoes. The smell of death at the horse farm. The smell of death rising off me and Juneplum whenever I had on plastic. The ‘666 and Hitler’ dancehall tune playing and the shadow that descended on Juneplum. The next day in the morning seeing a shadow over her in my sleep-blurred eyes, not giving her enough water but being so proud of her and so happy to be with her even if we were on the road. Then her seeming to laugh at me when the smell of death hung on us and the horse farm and basically reaching a dead end on the road to Portland.
I am fairly certain I gave her to someone, I did not see her on the way back. Someone said she was dead that night.
I don’t know which happened.
It speaks to my mothering eligibility on some level what happened with the dog.
The everyday noises. The lack of music as none of the music streaming services are ecological or if they can be run eco in browser on mobile, they are paid.
Not having a paid subscription to music for 2-3 years has been the death knell for my will to live. I listen to podcasts. I listen to Soundcloud artist. It’s not the same. Bandcamp. Not the same. Getting the best the industry has to offer is what it is about.
I am sure there is some music answer that I don’t have. At least I’m no longer subjected to neighbourhood gay-bashing music that I cannot tune out. At least I don’t have the acoustic pain of a pootly built house causing me heart problems.
The rich people around me having grass cut somewhere everyday, it’s still a wasp nest. Noise everywhere and not much music.
The neighbourhood cafe I used to go to, where I felt kind of normal and had passively available music that would have been playing with or without me. Well, I go to play for my birthday, no one shows up and the flyer says: I am a curious loop, as the title.
I got placed in mental hospitals on a loop, I took a picture and placed it on my Instagram the first time I went to the mental section of the hospital. Then came back to Jamaica and got placed in the same position matching the picture. I left fears of ecofascism in Germany and had a hitler-moustachioed doctor then a hitler moustachioed cat where I was living. The doctor, I passed during my intake. I had gone in to quit cigarettes.
Watching music videos and every single one has people dressed in red, black and white. Seeing people out in Jamaican society wearing a very specific shade of red. People during my third mental hospitalization, where I complete the loop of at least ideating the change to mental health I had threatened the first time would make them obsolete. In the hospital, the secondhand clothes for the patients have strange screenprints that were oddly topical and also ambiguous enough for me to be unable to speak about it.
Who sells us clothes and gives secondhand to the hospital and how easy is it to infiltrate if you didn’t like see me do a blood ritual with my period to fight fascism?
But there are no views so I cannot even give the theory credence.
I sometimes think about suicide because then all the banal noise and distractions will stop. If I am impeded from focusing on my work to save my life in climate then I am dead anyway so might as well not wait to deteriorate further.
I do realize there is a sort of amusement to be had with someone whose reality does not conform with the shared one. I do realize that it’s ugly to deal with an environmentalist who abandoned their dog, we are supposed to be paragons of earth stewardship or whatever.
There is still so much that could be said. But I will leave it at this. I LIKE LIFE. I have had a good one because I know how to have fun almost wherever I am. Not because the life itself is so good. It’s a lot of inside time. It’s a lot of alone time. But I know how to have fun. When the fun stops and I can’t contemplate peace anymore the knife appears and it goes into someone or into me. It doesn’t help in either case and I know I’ll never do it.
But today I wondered about maybe researching so I don’t have to think about a painful death at least. I don’t know if it would help. But worse than that. I know I should not talk about any of that out loud. Save it for a counsellor. Even going over the time it’s not enough, with the counsellor. It’s years. I have ten sessions. And I have to be subject and detective to parse what I need to worry about or not.
Today is an emotional day. Tomorrow more than likely I’ll find a reason to laugh. Today I spent the day on the ground in the yard, sleeping in a shirt and underwear because I was too tired to dress and I wanted sun and not to be caged in by the typical house security features of grills and bars in front of any open space of the house architecture, and to just earth for a while and sleep because my kitchen rat kept me up and I had chills and sweats all night making me wonder if I have leptospirosis from this rat. And there were things falling on the roof. And the internet was patchy as usual so no entertainment. And my valentine was my mom who is the only person I talk to aside from the counsellor.
There’s more. But that’s it for now. I do apologize if it’s impolite but only because I sent the site link to investors and this probably blah blah blah blahhhhhh fucking blah to an investor so don’t make the project look bad blah blah blah. Die slowly. Die queitly. Die politely. Don’t wail.
And there are so many of us going through the same exact thing who think the way to fix the world might be too rich for the bigots, a world without borders so I don’t have to sit and wonder what climate catastrophe is gonna wipe me out and leave me stranded with nowhere to go but another climate-challenged region? What would the bigots think and do?
Look at the shit I wrote. I am a happy person but honestly, what worse can they do when we are ALREADY DYING OR THINKING ABOUT IT?!!
More loop shit: I meet the same girl with a daughter with my similar name in the mental hospital the third time I end up there. I got robbed by a kid during my first break from reality and then robbed again by a kid in the lead up to my second. It’s not funny to feel made fun of for strange happenings in your life and not being able to talk about it because the person likely meant well and wasn’t trying to do anything on purpose because that would make the most sense. An accident.
[Future Aleya: There are other examples, I just dont keep track of every minute detail all the time
Also couple of corrections: It was not a smell of death on me and Juneplum, it was a smell I associate with superbugs. The leftover smell of feces that has been sanitized say if you got some on your hand, it’s chemicals and leftover gut bacteria smells, unsanitary and vhemical at the same time. I had that smell because I was not washing, the smell was particularly ascerbic on Juneplum and the horse farm where my journey ended was being watered and the water smelled of a bug and slight sanitization, all three were smelling the same and it speaks to my fear of a superbug taking over the island because we use A LOT of chemicals in our water and it may soon backfire. The Jamaican pools I know in people’s yards need very frequent cleaning, very frequent. It might already be here.
Also I will correct and say not ALL voices are helpful, providing assistance, that is a bit too quaint a way to describe it and I am probably trying to nice it up so people arent scared of me. However with voices or internal monologues, just like wity a person if you dont like whats being said, you just shut it down. Simple. Its more work but not that much more work than having a regular internal monologue.
Final correction: re soundcloud and bandcamp artists it’s not so much about having the ‘best’ music but more whatever you want when you want it. We kind of take that for granted. It’s got a huge footprint at scale though. Part of why I no longer participate.
Final thing: I laughed again that day listening to Trevor Noah and John Oliver talk on podcast.]
February 18, 2026
My name is Aleya Jobson and if you don’t know, now you know. So, I just spent the first night at my mother’s new house in the countryside. I’m currently on the way to scoop up some dirt and we’re gonna transplant some trees that I got her for Christmas and we’re gonna put it in a bigger pot so the land can be dealt with to be farmed and we can plant the trees in the ground.
It’s all the cool things, it’s all the cool things. It’s not mine so I’m along for the ride but we have been on this ride for a while guys and it’s a house so you know what I mean if you know what I mean. I slept very soundly. And it’s like a full place, it has all the basic things that you need. To be in such a position… and now I’m gonna scoop some dirt so.
[Proceeds to scoop dirt and sing “Scoop” by Lil Nas X and Doja Cat: “Scoop, I ain’t gonna lie, I really only want you for the night.”]
Oh! And I’m gonna be doing a podcast with an old friend. And I’m gonna ask him a couple questions, I believe, that’s my intention, that are gonna make me look a little not cool, a little gross, but also hopefully a very much, more than a little, human. I’m gonna see if it’s appropriate to broach the topic. So stay tuned for that.
[Uh, it wasn’t but I got an answer I had wondered about for a while!! Sings ‘Scoop’ again while shoveling dirt with half a paint can covered in its own dried paint into a reusable shopping bag made of synthetic materials.]
Oh I found a pipe. Uh oh. I found a pipe! Perhaps I should not be digging so much. Do pipes need to be buried to be safe?
Can they risk things by being exposed? I think sun would damage it.
Guys, I was an ideating machine yesterday… it wasn’t ideating really, it was summarization of years of contemplation but like, every question I had a ready answer of sorts, maybe not the full thing but I had an answer. And this is part of why I started to study philosophy in the first place. Ayn Rand confused me, and I was like, I think I need to learn how to have an opinion. And I think I also need to learn how to solve my problems. And now I’m thinking should I be sharing this or should I save for the podcast [later].
[I lose my train of thought and say how maybe my brain is doing it to save stuff for the podcast, haha]
Save the content. And that’s such a funny way to think of life, you’re trying to recount your life, trying to do a thing, oh content. But yeah, I went to study philosophy to get an opinion. And I had an opinion yesterday. And part of the reason I stopped studying philosophy was because I was like well, I’m learning all this shit about all these white people thinking about stuff, with the occasional Arab thrown in, and I am still feeling housing insecure. And the last time I was in this place with the cold and the Northerness, I was homeless. And, now, I’m at your school, I’m learning your things, doing the things, I’m walking the walk, talking the talk, to get to where you are because that’s what you say I should do, and I still feel housing insecure, so you still haven’t answered basic questions with your philosophy.
So part of the reason I’m gonna quit is because of that. And then the second time now at university, studying Gender and Diversity, [I realize this is the ‘content’ I would use for the podcast] I study that and it’s supposed to study how people of minority or otherwise marginalized identities, how they overcome adverisities, what laws they push, what kind of ways they protest, blah blah blah how they overcome, study that, and I still end up housing insecure. So what’s the point? I haven’t graduated because they still haven’t answered basic questions so I literally don’t feel they know enough for me to put myself through pain and endure an environment that triggers me, just for the sake of getting a paper from people who don’t know how to solve homelessness. Basic. I have a body, I have to put it somewhere. Where do I put it?
‘Oh, I don’t know but I can give you a Bachelor’s degree in Gender and Diversity, don’t you want that? D.E.I.!’
And it’s not their fault. But, I think maybe incrementalism is the fault.
[Sings ‘Scoop’ again ‘Scoop, I ain’t gonna lie, I really only want you for the night…’]
That’s ah… Can we interrogate stuff like that? Is it a malady or is it just a happenstance that people might want disposable sexuality, and kind of be like, ‘well, you’re not gonna really do it for me so, it’s just a one-night thing, is that ok?’ Um. I dunno. I don’t know.
That’s something to interrogate. Alright, I’ll stop recording now.