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Where do all the years come from? I am not very impressed. I lack the enthusiasm completely. I went to bed at midnight, I kind of forgot something was happening out there. Nah, I am too old for that kind of shit. I see nothing worth celebrating this year. It seems quite obvious the asshole on the other side of the Atlantic ocean will start a new war quite soon. He is the bloody idiot. They come in all sizes but the redneck is number one. I loathe several people this year, Dubya is on my list, too. Sigh.
In the boat, floating free in the ocean. Surrounded by sunlight and a flock of dolphins. They moved my boat more than the slow breeze ever could and I landed on an isolated island. I swimmed in the shallow, warm waters for hours, naked, in the state of ecstasy and joy. Eventually, as I listened to the song of the sea I fell asleep on the hot sand. When I opened my eyes drowsily I saw a tall figure walking towards me along the shore. I recognised him instantly, woke up covered in sweat, gasping, scared to death.
Damsel in distress.
I got a sudden crave for the sound of didgeridoo. Thank God, Prince Charming himself came to rescue and brought me the CD I was looking for. He told he was busy but I hardly managed to hang up the phone when he ran to me and brought the CD. (Hmmm?) Oh, I am grateful and amused. We are so goddamn polite to each other that it sounds funny. We should make a do-it-yourself-video about how to behave yourself and watch your words. -- Thanks for the CD, darling. I swear, some day… I learn to live.
One customer gave me money (I did protest loudly), another gave me a kiss on the hand (I did not protest, but I was embarrassed) and then a woman gave me an orange. I wondered what´s in the air, is it the spring already? The days are getting longer for sure, but no, spring is not yet here. Later in the flower department in the center a woman tried to pick me up. - When I undressed at home later in the evening I noticed I had had the rose quartz in my pocket all the time. Okay.
I was cleaning half the day and I missed Cirque du Soleil show because of a blabbering man. Heck. The rest of the day I care not to remember. I have been unbelievably tired. I crave for sleep. I sleep and I still crave for sleep. Maybe I am fortunate since I am able to sleep when I want to, but there lies a danger in there. Maybe I just sleep too much? Maybe I am turning into a bear. Wake me up before the spring is the full bloom. How pathetic life. I am a living dead.
It was the last gig of the band in the pub today. The singer was about to leave the rest of the guys because of a recording contract. No wonder – he was very good. My friends got very drunk and I got very bored. Among the cover versions the band suddenly sang a song of their own. I think it was the last straw and I headed out of the place. I still have the chorus in my head: "There´s nothing like a blow job in the morning (in the morning).." Sigh. I am getting old. I AM old.
This month will be the ash I am trying to raise myself from. I dare not to wish that I could be able to fly later this year. Right now the thought of it only gives me creeps. The rest of this month will show how things turn at work. It will be weird. Very, very weird. I just hope I have the strength to go through all the shit lying ahead. I am distracted from life, from you, from myself. I am sad and I keep my head down. Cannot change the way I feel. I feel? Oh?
The woman who was ”teaching” us to paint told once that her mother put dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane into her hat when she was child. (To protect her from the lice.) We nodded our heads in row and everyone of us thought the same: ”That explains something..” -- I am sad that I have lost the ability to paint. I have a strong urge to express myself with my hands but I am not able to do it anymore. One reason is that it is expensive and the other one is that I lack the room. I miss colours. All of them.
Not a single moment of rest. I think I had a chance to smoke one cigarette, but I am not sure. My shoulders are killing me as I leave the work behind. It feels like I have been carrying the customers on my shoulders, maybe I have, I got a bad habbit to listen to their worries patiently. Like it´s not enough to carry my own life on my shoulders. I guess I am still waiting for the day that I can drop the weight from my back. Does it ever come? I guess not. A miracle indeed.
Das Ding an sich.
Hitting my head against the wall of boredom. Too cold to get out so I just stay inside and deside to eat. (I eat like I was pregnant these days. Ho, ho, not possible, but I know the feeling now.) – - I do understand the colleague who started screaming to his boyfriend: ”Oh, my God, I have ruined our lives, I have ruined everything!” when she learned that she was pregnant. Poor thing. That´s what children do. They ruin everything. Starting from the parents and then they move to other things in life… I dislike children.
I enjoy the long weekend, sleep sweet dreams for hours, force the reality to leave me alone. I am a lone wolf, but I have the soul of a bear. The coldness outside is unbearable. This is like a revenge of the winter God because of all the warm winters near the coast. Some occational seagulls can be seen above the roofs but they are all mute, screamless creatures that throw meaningless shadows over the grey snow. I keep the curtains closed, mostly. No reason out there to open them. The light is not knocking on my window.
I salute the half of the moon. It´s slowly turning into full again. Slowly, but surely. It makes me happy everytime I see it. I stop, raise my eyes so that I can see it properly. I feel like I should say something to it, something silent & serious. Confidentally, like between you and me, you know. Only the pieces as far away from me as other planets and their moons make me happy. It´s like I was talking about you. You are just as far away from me like a planet. Christ, we are ment to crash.
Dribs and drabs.
I hate Mondays. Unbelievably boring day while learning the new computer system. It is a piece of cake compared to the old one and I was frustrated to the bone. What keeps me here, I ask myself. I ask myself so many questions these days that I could start a new quiz on TV. - - And yes, the middle-aged gigolo keeps staring at me when we pass each other on the corridors. He´s clever, bearable man, but no thank you. He does not have a chance but I see the hope written all over his face.
Dolce far niente.
Cars are asleep under a heavy coat of snow. They all look very innocent considering what they do to pedestrians on a regular basis. I blow smoke out of my lungs, mix it with the snowflakes. I smoke in front of a sex shop. There are three of them in the building I live in. I am curious what sort of a dudes come out. (Not a one woman I have seen so far.) I try to imagine what they take home with them, to their wives or to their secret girlfriends. Or for a personal pleasure.
Too many days in a row without a sight of you and more to come. That´s when I usually start to doubt everything. My eyes, my hearing, my soul, the good and the bad, wether to wet the plants or not, sun and moon, my skin, sky above, sea below, sandy roads leading through green forests, my heart. Well, life in general. That is when the mute panic enters me and I feel fragile in this box I have made myself. I´m conscious of the pattern that I knit. This sweater does not warm me against the freezing winds.
The word reminds me of Eminem suddenly. Frankly, he´s the most boring artist I have ever seen or heard. There´s nothing I can do about it, he simply makes me feel sick. He´s the kind of dude the world would be better without. I hope he grows up soon and shuts the f__k up. (Yeah, seriously.) Funny how pathetic losers usually get famous or make money. And we mortals are supposed to envy them? Huh? I do hope this is the last time I waiste my diary because of an idiot, because they are everywhere - where´s the point?
Dude, (how) is it hanging?
I enjoy few days of freedom, scan my head without any visible results here. I hope it was next Friday and all the hell breaking loose already. Tired of waiting for something to happen, to change the balance from anxiousness to open fight. Even war is better than just to wait for it. -- Things are getting personal anyway, there are two people I loathe more than anything and there is no way I will get over it. Not easily anyway. I would bet for the first option if I were you. But I´m not.
The shadows of life are thrown carelessly on the faces I stare in the tram. I enjoy spying people who watch out of the windows avoiding eye contact with strangers. There are days in my life when looking straight into the eyes of the people is unbelievably difficult, like the opposite eyes were made of burning fire. There are also days when eye watching is a piece of cake, a bearable pleasure, direct road in the sunny day right into the soul of a person, any person. I have moody eyes, I have moody heart. Yeah, I have.
Happy birthday, H. I hope you can go to England soon. It is the only place for you - unlike this God´s forsaken country. I do know you were a knight in your previous life. The birthmark on your cheek is a remembrance of the time. (When you were too drunk from the warm beer and you fell asleep over the fire. You must know I believe it is true. I hope you go to England even if I am not going visit you. I hope you go, go, go. Just be carefull with the hot visors this time.
The cancer of the cancerman has spread into his liver. That´s pretty much the idea today. It is a nasty diagnose. It was the smoking habbit of 60 years that started the whole process. Still, both me and T sit in the smoking room and stare at each other through the thick smoke. ”Yup, he´s a goner now.” ”Well, the cancer might spread slowlier when there is an older person in question.” ”Yeah, could be.” ”Your mother must be horrified, too.” ”Obviously.” The marriage longer than 50 years will come to an end. In one way or the other.
A distant feeling of spring since the days started to get longer. It fills me with relief but on the other hand I am kind of scared if I make it till the summer sane… There are so many things open in the air at the moment that I am in the state of silent horror 24 hours a day. I see dreams of mist. I am a potencial raw material to ulcer. Things have the illusion of rightness around them but it does not fool me. I am on the road again, lost, in no time. I know.
De gustibus non est disputandum.
I think life is a bitter soup, filled with the things I hate: raisins, idiots, mushrooms, brown sofas, olives, shrimps, country music, screaming children, simple people who try to be smarter than they are, grey snow, latex, stupid questions, valentine´s day, acid rains, tofu, dubya, apes, boring love movies, mondays, reggae music, ignorant bastards, pop-up adds, sunday evenings, red short hair, too long nails, full trams, slow trains, vomits, taxi drivers (oh, I said the ignorant bastards already), broken connections, alarm clocks, weddings, bad news, lazy colleagues or icy, slippery streets. Yuk, I say. Yuk.
The universe of pulsing dark matter inside me. Sucks the light out of my face, throws me into the shadows of clouds. When I move my fingers slowly, grope for the possible feelings I grab nothing but empty air, lack the sense of touch, withdraw ashamed, beaten, small. I turn into a human ball and roll away, drop myself from the edge of emptyness, vanish without a trail. Only the distant smell of jasmine oil hanging in the air, grinning whispers of evidence with soft lips. Yes, the scent of love finds its way, even in the pitch-dark.
Do me a favour and shoot me.
Very interesting day altogether, this Friday. I witnessed the purest form of idiotism, a live show, straight from hell. It changed me somehow, made me even stronger, more secure of myself, my heart. It must be the size of fire inside the witch hunters, the big thought of Augustus, the all-vanquishing power of destruction in the feverish dreams of Hitler… I am not in the mood to talk about it, but if you don´t feel like shooting me, right at this very spot, I´ll be waiting here for some ass to kick.
I think I was useless, slightly absent-minded, angry - even happy and sad at the same time at work. I enjoyed the solitude and wandered among the books. Then, suddenly, towards the loud radio I went, my fingers ready to push the button to turn it off. And there he was, The Bluesman, loud and clear singing on the radio waves about the tiny and tender grip of love. How I smiled a quick smile as I killed the song and marched away from the scene like a soldier keeping the words in my mind no one ever saw.
It seems like my mother has a breast cancer for the second time. I am sick and tired of the C-word this week. Then I find myself worrying about my genes, my useless life, cigarettes which I desperately need to keep my hands from killing people! Oh, f________________ck. I think about the crossroads I passed few months ago, I ponder about turning back, but ah, I don´t have the driver´s license. I am not able to walk, I crawl with the bloody knees. I smell the bitter odor of life in God´s armpits, drop away the clothes, crash.
My friend decided to quit her work. I envy her, I wish I could do the same thing. To write the crucial words down, to send them away. I am not in harmony with the place I work in. I keep on having opinions about things. I try to keep on defending goodness, but somehow I feel shallow. Like I was trying to cheat after all, no matter what I do. Things turn into mirror images. I am a dreamer again and there is no place for me. So I should leave. Yes, I should leave. Can I sigh now?
I try not to think about.it About what I thought yesterday. And the day before that. I am getting restless again. I am unable to construct my life, all I can do is to make it ruins. I feel sorry for the archeologist of the future, they will not have a clue what happened here, in this head. I am clueless now and forever. I have made it my motto, should I regret it? If I only knew how. I want to leave, regardless of the pain in me, I want to leave. How could I? Oh, why?
It´s a new dimension, this last week. It ends my painful January, somehow I hate this month and I want to get over and done with it. There are many things I want to get rid of. Even more things I want to achieve. I am sick of wanting, but it does not leave me alone, it follows me around, pinches my ass rudely. So, I complain again. Refuse to accept life the way it is. This week is a weird dimension for me. I think I feel free, emotionless, almost safe from the life itself, not quiet, no.
This might be the day when I go on with my life. It took me a while to realize I am standing on a stepping stone, now I want to leave it behind. I need no one to push me, I am moving by myself and it feels good. This is a rare opportunity to feel the reins in my own hands. Where did this horse came from? I am getting old fast, I felt seventy yesterday, tomorrow I will be eighty. I don´t know if my tragedy is too much too soon, or too little too slowly.
I found the words – exactly at the same moment when you lost them. Sorry for the inconvenience, it is in your hands. I slept, quite well actually, despite of huge amount of red wine I had among the party animals. When you have a party with several hundreds of librarians you are approaching the danger zone of the art of partying. Things might get out of hand. Trust me. I´ve witnessed things I cannot believe. Do we have the western civilization in our hands? Bullshit and now I know it. I need coffee in a nice, cozy cafe.
The Tip Jar