Saturday, 26 November 2011


Happiness comes in the form of a clear night sky & warm concrete.

Wednesday, 23 November 2011

Gotta find and kill my shadow self

gotta dig up every secret seashell.

[found it, killed it, dig it.]

He Poos Clouds | Final Fantasy | 2006

Sunday, 20 November 2011

who am I [untitled spell]

We were in the icy wastes of Antarctica
the crystalline lake of memory
and in those lonely days the world was nothing and the number we made gleamed brightly
like a star
a quasar
pulsing energy through space
and through time.

Memories & dreams dancing together.
The love of the past tense in future time.
Never in the present.
The memories of dreams and memories in dreams.

A place of re-encounter as a childhood island on adult time:
a place where we belong.
The silence.
                      What we are.

The stage where the soul can dance at her own pleasure.

Wednesday, 16 November 2011

question mark [?]

Wouldn't it be great if for a single moment we could, in the deepest of solitudes, see our life from above, from heaven, from birth to death, concentrated in a single image? And by doing so, knowing what to do and when, without having to have faith in this or that, something or someone, in one or another idea? To simply KNOW, sparing us all to this ridiculous effort that we put ourselves into?

Saturday, 12 November 2011

I want to take my pleasures where and how I will

And without warning when we’re almost at the top
The wheel that turns us all comes to a sudden stop.
The wind that’s blown us dies a quick and painless death
The air gets clammy and we hold each other’s breath
We get the feeling that we’re not alone in this
And then a God who really ought not to exist
Sticks out a great big hand
And grabs me by the wrist
And asks me "why? " and I say
"well god, it’s like this
It may be arrogance
Or just appalling taste
But I’d rather use my pain than let it all go to waste
On some old God who tells me what I want to hear
As if I cannot tell obedience from fear
I want to take my pleasures where and how I will,
Be they disgraceful or distasteful or distilled
And to be frank I find that life has more appeal
Without a driver who’s asleep behind the wheel"

Then God decides that he has taken quite enough
Of all this atheistic tosh I’m spouting off
And so he calls upon his favourite angel choir
To sing of times when men were filled with christian fire
But over-zealous angels flap their wings too fast
And cause the wind to blow and turn the wheel at last
And soon my feet are safely back on solid ground
And then I hear a voice say
"don’t look down!".
[the divine comedy | don't look down | Promenade | 1994] 

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Reality Bites

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Because you are to used to harmony in a very classic and feminine way.
- What do you mean?
What did you felt when you first saw those holocaust images of skinny dead bodies all being pushed into a mass grave?
- Like everyone else I suppose, deeply shocked.
Well isn't that shock a reflection of your values regarding life in which you find comfort and by whom you measure good and evil? Isn't that something to be proud about? The ability of feeling someone else pain even if that has happened long ago before you were even born? Can you find a soundtrack to those pictures that can sound harmonious? Is music always supposed to be pretty and comfortable? No, it does not. Music is the same as life and life can be a tragedy, and in tragedy you can often find the deepest human light. Is that last desire for happiness. It's in the darkest place that the smallest light will shine brighter and sparkling clear.

simple it down.
it's been over 4 months since I left my shithole that once I called home.
it's not the 1st time.
it just tastes different now.
it's all damaged around me.
dumb people find sick ways to move on.
and there's no such thing as dumb.
it's all people.
how's being smart working for you?
pretty bad right now.
what advantage can I gain from reading between the lines?
I don't even know
I don't even know
I don't even know the Language.
I know the body and the body has bowels and the bowels move in disgusting circles.
our meat calls for mercy.
humanity claims mercy onto itself.
when did we get so tired of it?
why can't we search for something else?
where lies the roots of our humble acceptance of it all?
& all of it.
I really want to simple it down but this is too much.
it's like a Disney movie, it's Bambi's mother dying one thousand times per second
and all you have to do is to pay enough tax.
trying to go back now
to the island
nothing is more important than being original.
simple it down.

Tuesday, 1 November 2011

right vs left

We think of ourselves as free minded. Most of us think differently in regard to our fathers. Almost all of us think of our grandfathers as people with a very strict set of preconceptions. We are all wrong. We built new layers of preconceptions over the old ones and we call ourselves free minded. You aren't free, you are as selfish and self centered as anyone else. Our preconceptions are so strong and well rooted that we don't even notice them. We can't conceive them as that, we can't even find their source and their limits. Until you step into a different culture and you start to wonder about all the little things you take for granted. Things you think "oh it's ok". Things you don't even think anymore. Suddenly the though "is it really ok?!" pops into your head, and there you go, for a moment you are free, then you do everything you can to build a new wall between yourself, what you really are, and everyone around you. I wonder if this is part of Huxley's view of a mankind locked and slave of the left brain. And I know that creativity throws you away from preconceptions, at least for awhile. So I find a new paradox: Those who don't think that much actually have it a lot easier but they do carry with them all the ugly filters of society. Those who do think more than the common mortal, have all this bumps ready for them in the journey to find themselves. One thing makes us run: beauty. Art. Cause we wont live without it. Painful awareness is a fair price to pay.