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My epitaph will be:
Screw you guys, I´m going home.
That is what I like to think. I have felt homeless, even seasick for too long. I think the last time I felt like home was 30 years ago. I have been "homeless" most of my life. I wonder if it ever changes? I kind of doubt it. I will always be like a motherless child, a long way from home. No matter where it is, and who the hell can tell if it exists at all? God? Really? He´s probably too busy to answer. Blessing America, or something…
I am a miserable, cold Sunday today. I keep my toes warm as I surf in the Net, check the places I have missed, wander among the 7 million wonders of cyberspace.. As it is Sunday I pray for the soul of my laptop. Not easy to get new one, I am counting the coins in my pockets already, at the beginning of the month. After I payed all the bills in the Net I realised my money just vanished somewhere. I need more work but I don´t want to. I need more life but I can´t afford it.
The art of orally persuading fools that white is the color that it appears to be. It includes the gift of making any color appear white.
[The devil´s dictionary at
My dictionary obbsession flies free like a mad bird when I have the Net at home again. I got rid of TV. Now I finally manage to listen to radio during the evenings as I browse randomly through dozens of dictionaries. I am not very sane, I know that by now. I guess you know it, too, since I managed to lock you up. Sorry darling.
Every dark cloud has a silver lining.
It is quite pathetic phrase. Who cares about the lining, when you have a big, bad and ugly cloud over your head? Well, never mind. No matter how hard I have tried to be miserable my mood has been almost ecstatic. This is too strange. I am beyond myself. Is the woman in cafeteria adding some secret incredients into coffee? I laugh and joke constantly. I talk like a machine. This is a new me. I hate to be cheerful all the time. It is boring. Give me back my disgusting, ugly mood.
I can´t get enough of my computer that has the whole world inside it. Obviously the renovations at work have been a source of inspiration to me. I have a strong urge to find things. Lot´s of things. (This will be the story of my life.) It´s like it was a Scandinavia outside. Oh, I forgot, it is. I am not able to go to bed yet. Late shift tomorrow keeps me awake, makes me do night things, browse science magazines lazily (curse my genes once again) and stare into a foggy mirror of soul. Who´s, I don´t know.
One of those days when you know already in the crack of yawn that the day the Lord has given birth to is going to be a pain in the ass. (Poor animal.) Trams lost their tracks badly because of snow and the city was in chaos. My saviours considering the mental side of life came to rescue at work and saved the day by being so hilarious. My mood jumped to the ceiling, again (it worries me) (yes), and the rest of the stupid day was a piece of cake. (I wish.) These are the mysterious days.
End of the week.
I shook hands with Friday with relief in my heart. I drank huge amounts of coffee along the day, came home late, made some pasta and fell asleep soon because of the drowsiness of digestion. Exactly my intension. I haven´t got the faintest idea if I see any dreams these days, they keep away from my consciousness so strictly that I feel a bit deserted. What am I doing during the nights? Fishing? Yeah, I could do that. And kill a worm or two. I am already dreaming about the summer, the lighter clothes and sunshine.
What??! There are disgusting words everywhere, especially on my tongue, but this is my new favourite. And this word is even
. I have a saturday night fever with several dictionaries. I watched an amazing flash movie in the Net at goober.nu. I have to wake up early, hoping this weird word starting with
hypnotizes me into sleep eventually. Today I am a switched off phone, wanting no answers to any guestions there might be, especially that one. I miss serendipity, I must have lost it on my way here. Can I trust Google.com to find it? Naah..
Ex post facto.
I lost one Sunday this week. I woke up early and was already late. The day had gone travelling in the train of time, left the halfruined station of meaningful life. I hugged my bag as I sat in the waiting room. Dusty air squirmed me, dropped my bag violently on the hard tiles. As I raised my head to see the clock I saw my own shadow gasping for air. I meant to say something to her, my mouth already open. A brief moment, I stayed silent. Then I heard the distant whistle of a train.
En avant, en avant.
I have a little spring on my window sill. There is a tiny, green sprout of a hyacinth there. It acts as a symbol of hope when it carefully raises its fresh face towards the sky. The light is more and more visible now, makes you feel dizzy already, just wait for the bright sunny april days when the light raises from the snow.. Sigh. We die and born again each year over here. How could a person make the most of it? Dying because of unbearable darkness is not exactly setting you free, is it?
Definitely my kind of a man. I wish I had the patience to read the Book of Enoch through. It has the same drama and suspence, as well as the paranormal activity, like the books of Koontz and King I dare to say. Really, those must have been pretty interesting times, when angels came to earth, took mortal wives and then a new generation of the Nephilim was born. Wow. The Hebrew book of Enoch tells us that God took Enoch and translated him to heaven, where his body was transformed into flame and he became the angel Metatron.
The feeling of weakness flows all over me like a massive, aggressive tide of idiots. I have no control over it, I can´t breath at all and I know I will die. I have no life going through my eyes, just the meaningless numbers, like in the beginning of a film. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Out of numbers, that is what you are. Life at its best is a cancer, eating you from the inside out. Bang! You´re dead. Congratulations! Winner of the day, lucky bastard. I am not in the good mood at all and it shows.
I still have to get my weekly dose of it. I don´t want to lose the connection completely. Those a bit rough and human looking English people have a little place in my heart, just because they are not made of plastic like the Bold and the Beautiful charachters are. (And I do like the handsome cook in the Woolpack! ) I visit my friend to see the show, drink a cup of coffee – a bit too strong coffee, but I don´t mind – and watch the endless dramatic turns in the little imaginary English village made of set pieces.
Very loveless day for me. Exactly the way I like it. The fuss about Valentine´s makes me sick and bored. It only shows what kind of sheeps we are as we ride the useless trends around the world and waiste time and money because of it. It is stupid – and sad. When did we stop thinking with our own heads? When did we stop feeling with our own hearts? Now you gotta give your loved one a red, plastic and singing heart to show your love. How pathetic can we get? Very. I want to be an outsider today.
If we actually have guardian angels do they follow us constantly, like the bodyguards, for example? Heck, if they do they know by now that a use swear words a lot. (No matter what the language. Those are the words I usually learn by heart in the very beginning when I start to study a new language.. ) But my heavenly bodyguards have done a nice job, since I have nearly died twice. Nowadays, when I sneeze – and I sneeze a lot – I think there must be an angel walking by because I am very, very allergic to feathers.
Why do people drop their hair? Sometimes, as an old housekeeper I though I should start to collect all the hair I have to clean up every day. I could have developed impressive collection of pubic hair, facial hair and other loose hair from the people all over the world... I never did start the collection. I could have a web page about it by now and be famous and even respected hair collector. – Now I have only five toilets to clean once a week and the amount of loose hair in them is quite pathetic. Which is nice.
I carry a pain in my soul I hardly can put any of my fingers on, like a pain impossible, yet it is my oldest cavalier, a friend indeed, to hold my breath. It never leaves from my side, only shifts its grip from time to time, even into a light brush of sorrow on the yellow surface of big joy. Then it convulses me like a pair of strong hands and there I go again, shake. Live and let live, I convince myself like I was a rational human being, unconditional sorrow is my one and only soulmate.
Ex nihilo nihil.
Generating 100 words a day can be a pain in the ass. Many times I wanted to quit this challenge, but just like it is often in life, a little stress produces better achievements... Ay, the language I use is not the language of my mother, but I have enough words in my head to produce at least
. I do worry if I lose this language because I use it so rarely these days. Producing the words myself is a lot trickier than picking the words with my eyes fluently from the pages of a book.
Etruscan lions in memoriam.
I had a wonderful etruscan lions border (because I did it myself..) on my walls few years ago. In this place I miss those mysterious winged creatures as I watch the sterile light blue walls around me. (Must have been an idiot who used such a boring hue.) Grand old lady in the next block bought two magnificent etruscan posters, in expensive frames and everything. Those colours are amazing colours of the Mother Earth, just like they were in the old days of ancient Egypt. Oh, I wish I were there. Among umbers, ochres and siennas.
Enlightenment is painful.
Ouch, how bright the sun can be at this time of the year. It hurts my eyes badly. The sunglasses are buried deep in the closet back at home. They have gathered dust, I´m afraid. The light pain can be unbearable and you have to close your eyes for few seconds. (That´s when the tram you were waiting for passes by.) I feel sorry for myself because I have a late shift and I cannot enjoy the light and the pain in my eyes any longer. This is what all the hopes are made of. Spring sun.
Echo of empathy.
I wonder where all the empathy in the world goes when it dies? Does it have a cemetery of its own? It seems like we have lost the capability to feel empathy during the last ten years or so. Considering other people, empathy, kindness and politeness in general seems to be a very lame feature in a person. And lame is not cool. "I" was the word on everybody´s lips in the nineties. Things probably get worse during this ugly, new millennium. I don´t like people the way they are these days. Rest in peace, poor empathy.
Erosion of the mind drops bruised windfalls on the paper.
My own words from the past. There are no new ones. I am afraid to write one single word. I know I will delete everything later. Sooner. I criticize myself dangerously, I have no limits when I review myself. It surely blocks my veins of poetry. I haven´t written for months now. I wonder if I ever write again. This city is killing my will to create. I am a stupid fool because I stay here. There is nothing here for me, I knew it the day I were born.
Sunday afternoons are useless. They mislead you into a state of fake rest, few hours of oblivion from the week´s stressful train of thoughts, and bang, there it is the red door of Monday morning and you are way too blue and unwilling to touch or open that burning door. There will always be another week, another row of days of unwilling smiling in the right places, and even when you know you are good at what you do you still hate what you do. I climb the wrong ladder as the Next Sunday is already pulling me down.
My favourite word this evening. I found it right from my very own mailbox. A colleague of mine has been studying English in the University for few months now. I think very highly of him. I am relieved that he was able to be a part-time worker in our sad and confused department (which is in perfect state of chaos). I am also embarrassed that he trusts me so much that he wants to share his texts with me. He will be a great translator some day and I will be proud to say: Hey, I know this guy!
I hardly have words today. I am tired, fed-up, worried and it all shows on the flesh of my face. I don´t know what to do with my pathetic life. Is this what it will be, till the end of time? I read about a theory, that we have approximately 40 000 lives to live. That is quite an amazing row of incarnations.. Am I going to experience this shit 40 000 times more? Is that what they are trying to tell me? No, I don´t accept that. I really don´t. I' ll pass.
Etymology of questions.
Is the reason why my life is crap that I don´t really know what I want? What if I will never know what I want?? Will I die of boredom? Do I cry myself to death? How the hell should I know? Does God know? Does he know anything at all? What the hell is your problem? Does that count? Where was I when they delivered the zest of life? Is that a secret? What´s the point? Does it really matter? Do you come here often? Does it hurt? Why bother? I don´t know.
I have thought about this more than enough. There is nobody else around to spoil me so I better do it myself. I ordered the computer and the camera. I am happy as a little pig and I definitely made that clear to everybody during the day. I felt a flu coming during the evening shift - wondering if I can make it to the birthday party on Sunday. The other boss is going to be fifty. The boss number one has vanished somewhere. If you see him, send him back to work, the idiots try to take over.
Enjoying myself with the new technology.
This computer, pardon me, this amazingly
computer was so expensive that I should quit smoking immediately. Well, I do, I do, because the flu throws all the cigarettes out of my pockets. I just doubt if I am able to leave the cosy, dark smoking rooms at work, not to mention all the gossiping and joking that takes place in there. You can inhale, or exhale, the best gossips in those bloody rooms. If you don´t smoke the latest gossips reach your ears the next year or the one after that, heck.
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