floating

2006/06/29

Block Blog

This person once asked me, "what do you enjoy?", and since I don't tell people what and how I really enjoy, the question has changed to: WHAT DO YOU HATE?
I started talking about common things, like what food I hate and how I hate weight…

I always thought I'm not the person that would hate. I'd rather try to understand, but yesterday I realized that I do hate. I hate some people, types of people, their behavior. I hate them so much that I try to ignore them… but they seem to haunt me down in my dreams and thoughts, and I have to write, even if it’s the first time I admit that I hate somebody. I have to say this:
I hate narrow-minded people who take the first thought and never give up on it, never consider other possibilities. I hate people who judge, wearing a blindfold over their eyes. I hate people who make definitions of their own and think that this is a universal truth. I hate people who believe only what they choose to believe, even if it could never be the truth. I hate people who see only a flock of people and then judge an entire nation. You can't say the entire nation is stupid or suicidal or deceptive… and yet you say this knowing that this could never be the truth, that this makes things only worse. Knowing that by discriminating others, you're only discriminating yourself.

'Turbans on their heads? Who does this? MUSLIMS.'

I mean, what the hell? This only shows that you are uncertain and that you are bad at making statements. I'll tell you why. First of all, your statements are too narrow because you excluded non-Muslims who wear turbans. Hindus. You must be more precise if you want to play the macho's role here. Second of all, your statements are too wide. You see, not all muslims wear a turban. I don't know if you're badly informed, uneducated, or just using all the arguments to prove that you're right in hope that nobody would notice. Well, guess what? You're caught in the act.

'Who recruits young people to blow up buildings? MUSLIMS.'

The ones who do it call themselves Muslims because they don't possess any other power than the power of religion and they modify religion for their own use. You and I could do the same, although we would never be Muslims, because as far as I know, no religion supports killing. These young people are as stupid and narrow minded as you are for believing everything and not looking into things more deeply.

If you would live in a Muslim world, you would already blow yourself up. You would be one of "them". And by the argument above, you went narrow minded again, because there were some suicidal attempts that were not committed by Muslims… and just for the record, most Muslims don't support that kind of action.

'Who calls themselves Muslims at this day and age? MUSLIMS.'

First of all, what should they call themselves? (By the Raven). For your information, some people who call themselves Muslims aren't really Muslims as that sect you were talking about. I don't think they are true believers because to kill people is wrong in any religion… and those maniacs do injustice to all Muslims by calling themselves what they are really not and by doing stupid things. (Which is the only way they know how to protect themselves from all the bullshit that the western world – USA – is trying to force them into buying. They know that your democracy means subduing). They throw a shadow on all people whose common thing is a religion that is the religion of peace as the Catholic religion was once. Let us remember that it was also used by Crusades, killing people who'd oppose their Christian missionary. It was used for selfish goals that were achieved by bloody and cruel killings and deception.

You say 'Muslims trying to shut us up'. I don't know who us is. I just hope it is a lonely group… and let me tell you that I'm not a Muslim, but I am trying to shut you up, because you are trying to say nonsensical bullshit. Educate yourself, man. You are an arrogant bastard. If you think that you are cool saying this… or even that you're saying the truth… and more that you have the right to say this, then accept the critics, publish them, and then stand tall and defend your point. The fact is you're weak. Your arguments don't stand and you know that. That is why it's easier for you to just block people who think slightly different than you do. By the way, you and your kind are creating the terrorists. You are terrorists and yet you are trying to fight the windmill that is you, that is only in your head.

posted by calamity @ 6/29/2006 10:59:00 pm 0 comments

Tree

And he asked: “Am I the tree?”
The question that one must answer to himself. Only you know who or what you are. Only you know who you wish to be.
And here we meet on my blog. Here you can be the lion or the lemur, you can be the dog or the tree.
We float here.
One can choose roles here.
If only we could always choose roles in our lives…
I’m enabling you this here and now…

Although I knew what I wanted to say, although all was set in my mind, although the roles I chose were playing I’m leaving you to do the same.

I want to leave you here to think, to make your own play, your own world. I am happy to know I don’t force my thoughts into your mind, make your brains work.

Everything is possible here.

Embrace it…it is your world. Only you know the right answer. It is your play man, don’t ask me, I’m just here to witness it.

I know what you mean to me, I know what I think of you, the question is: do you know it? Do you know who you are?
Yes?
Then tell me: are you the tree?

posted by calamity @ 6/29/2006 09:15:00 pm 1 comments

2006/06/27

Raven

Feed upon my flesh you hungry raven. Enjoy it: young and fresh it is, sweet…How your claws and beak tear up the meat, how delightful this dinner is. I enjoy it very much, we must do this again.
And I don’t suppose her majesty will mind your beak being all bloody – you left it this way in ecstasy of your most perfect meal in wish it would never end, in wish it would stay so, but you DID destroy it. Look at your claws: they still smell like her blood, you’ll be carrying her blood behind your nails for a long time (if you want to or not) and even that will fade away. But there is blood in your inside and it will never go away, you will have to carry it forever, till your forever. You don’t want to? It is too late now; now that you have tasted the blood…you’ll have to live with it.
Or even better spill some blood and leave it there with no one to clean it up, cos’ you know sins and past can never be erased.

posted by calamity @ 6/27/2006 11:40:00 pm 0 comments

Garfield

You stupid Garfield you just laugh your tears off. It’s what you do best: fuck others up and then laugh about it and you are never ready to take off the cover and admit that you are the real laugh here.
Just laugh before somebody laughs at you first. Laugh at the things worthy of your laughter and the ones that are not. Laugh your ass off. Your time will come. I may not be there to see it but I will laugh when your turn comes.

posted by calamity @ 6/27/2006 11:36:00 pm 2 comments

Red

No matter how I try it is always me. It is always my fault. I could be perfect and people would still blame me for it. But I am not. Far from that. I’m just myself hurting, being alone and no one cares.
It’s bad luck girl, get some reality check – fuck all of this. What reality? This is it! As real as it gets.
I can’t do it better. Just tell everything to my face, make me live with it, or not. Why would YOU care?
Just don’t leave me floating on this emptiness. Don’t put me in that world where all the clocks stop, where the key doesn’t turn, where nothing seems to work, don’t put me in oblivion.
And yet you are doing it.
You did warn me, I must give you that.
How stupid I am, how naïve.
You write a scenario, make me read it, make me read it once more, make me think about it, make me comment on it…and then you push me into that rocking chair and make me live in exile. But how long will I smoke the cigar? And will I ever find the way into the life again? You shouldn’t leave you main character in this uncertainty.
Or do you KNOW the ending?
Does it go this way?
All mad of emptiness, nothingness, floating, waiting…all mad because this grey dusty room I will try to find the color, to bring some happiness here…MY favorite color…RED.
I will let it spray on the walls, on the windows, on the floor and I will laugh, this is what I deserve - some color.
And not just the past and the sins will spray from my veins, no, you can’t have just that. It’s all or nothing. Let it be all. Just not this grey room, now in beautiful shades of red, with the smell of blood and taste of death.
And all it is for you sire.

posted by calamity @ 6/27/2006 11:23:00 pm 0 comments

Tears

Once made it all better, but now they just make things worse.
Just hate me…all of you hate me, just give me the reason to take the leap. Give me the excuses; don’t tell me the ever so loving truth. Torture me, it is a new fashion now, being sadistic and masochistic at the same time.
I don’t deserve better: I don’t deserve a word, not an explanation. Just the thing I hate the most…ignorance – all I deserve, all I get.
Think…
Now answer.
Why should you?
But then again why shouldn’t you?
There are ways to make it all better, there are ways to cure this world. On which side are you? Sides we must take. Suffer we must. Everything is better than nothing and nothing is where I am now, hell it is who I am now.
Here I am thankful to have that power in me to write, because when I write I now I won’t do anything stupid, even if it crosses my mind. I let the pain go out even if it hurts more than it did when it went in.
The tears are salty and my chest hurts. My head is empty and still full of nothing that you have seemed to implant in me when I wasn’t paying the attention.
And again I wish I could be the dog to pass the tree with indifference, but I’m not…can’t you see that the indifference is the thing that is killing me here?
I am here away from everything that could hurt and it still hurts, I’m still drawn to that place. I want to stay here, sit here, never to go back, I don’t need the air.
I inhale with fear, carefully. It hurts, my tears come and my hear starts beating fast. I’m sick, the pain…how to kill the pain?
What a great time it is to be all alone, to feel deader than the dead. It makes me sick to even think of talking to some people they would probably kill themselves as a result of our talk (it makes me think: were did that Aussie guy go last night?).
Just sit here…
The easiest for the society.
The hardest for me.
How long…
Until something happens, until I stand up and check if indifference is oblivion.
Until I get another drug, pain killer.
Until the pain kills me – for good this time.

And how I hope…I hope to be in an online experiment that tests people how far they will go, how much they need…But guess what: there is no switch to stop me. This could take a souls life while for you it is just blocking someone and forget: take the oblivion, indifference, limbo…it’s just a few clicks away. And to me?

You blocked me out of your life and I blocked myself out of mine.

posted by calamity @ 6/27/2006 10:02:00 pm 0 comments

2006/06/25

I Wish

I wish I could be a dog.
Taken cared of, loved, given the attention, and still have my peace.
A dog. Loved by many, hated by some. Some would feel fear, some disgust, some would avoid me, and some would hug me.
Despise, acceptance – whatever…I get those anyways.
And I wish…
I wish to get my drug, to breathe.
And this is all I have…here and now, may it be whatever it is – it is mine…
I still wish I could be the dog that keeps away from the tree, that leafless, very old tree standing quietly in the backyard, waiting forever to play with angels in heaven. And all I have is a wish.

You can’t…
You could take a shit at everything concerning that tree…you could…you could just pass it with no emotion, not even looking at it.

You can’t. You are not a dog. You never will be. It’s all just wishes. You have no choice: wish and live this life with all it has to offer.

Go to the forest, breathe, take the drug if you think this is your life. LIVE then.

posted by calamity @ 6/25/2006 10:20:00 pm 4 comments

One Year

Today has been on e year since my grandfather died. It has been one year. Loss, pain, growing up, responsibility - a new person.
How beautiful his face was and how still it stayed there in my arms. How long the drive to hospital was and he left there in my arms – forever.
How warm he still was when I hugged him and kissed him goodbye and how stiff when he laid in the coffin.
Would he ever let me kiss him otherwise? We never told how we feel about each other but it did show. What are words? Unimportant, empty attempt to say what you really mean…and still the only thing we can share with some people.
And he was gone…forever.
And left? The memories, the pain and the tombstone there to remind us…as we could ever forget, it was there an object, a thing that wanted to fool us into believing that he isn’t here anymore, that he is gone…how silly, how untrue. Can’t you see? He IS here, in our minds and still in our life. I despise the tombstone: it is there for everybody to cry there and then go home and forget again. I have him with me all the time; I don’t need the hypocrisy of the tombstone.

Why do we always say things when it is already too late? Why? Do we want to be nice to the dead by making them flawless?
I’m not being nice here, I’m being myself – honest.
You cared for me, you protected me, you wanted the best for me, I could rely on you…
And these are the things I try to find in the people around me, I’m always in the search for you. I did that when your materialistic form was still here, now I search for your spirit in others and I’m doing ok, but I know that everyone is unique and that I can have only a glimpse of you…and at least that is enough for me.

I still need that protection that I once got from you, you thought me to protect myself, but I still craze for it.

I try to find you although you are not here, I try to find an object that resembles you. I try to find it…but you have been here, with me, all the time.
You are a part of me and there is no better person to carry with me than you.

Thank you for making my growing-up life bearable, thank you for the support…thank you for the protection.

THANK YOU…I LOVE YOU

Float now.

posted by calamity @ 6/25/2006 09:34:00 pm 0 comments

2006/06/24

I'LL JUST SAY IT

Every piece of shit i wrote lately is just crap, I apologise if it caused you any emotional pain, displeasure, change in your life quality, maybe even vomiting.
Feling responsible and everything I offer to pay for your shrink if my writting made you take extra therapies.
I promise I'll try to do better and if I can't, well... then just stop reading my stuff because I don't think i can afford paying for your shrink too long.

posted by calamity @ 6/24/2006 11:31:00 am 0 comments

2006/06/21

MY VOLUNTARY PRESCENCE

Living is defined as the experience of being alive; the course of human events and activities still in existence, still in active use, pursuing a positive and satisfying existence.
Thinking means to be endowed with the capacity to reason, have in mind as a purpose, have or formulate in the mind.
I being alive and I being a rational creature brings me here.
And I am here, present. We are here meeting on this blog. For how long?
Till the involuntary must comes and eats up my will to come, till I start faking it, till we all start faking it.

I don’t have to close my eyes cos’ I’m always here, I don’t have to dream away cos’ I don’t need dreams. No need to escape the cruel reality anymore, I don’t need to dream to feel free.
This is my will, this is my reality, this is my dream, I feel free.
There is no fear, sometimes we just need to give in and fully trust. Fully trust that some things are here to stay. That even though they are dreamlike they are real. And we just have to trust that they won’t fade out. And again we come to that point where we realize that all we have is trust, hope, faith if you wish, because things like that don’t come with guarantee. And this fact makes it all more special, stronger.
There is always a risk.
I don’t want to get out of this high state that I’m in, I don’t need more, that heroin has once changed my life, made it bearable, it has become my best friend. I don’t need more and I won’t agree on less.
What consequences could this bring? Does this even have a price? Whatever the price is - it is worth it.

There was this one test and they wanted to know if I have an addictive personality. I do. Even worse my addictions last forever. Even if I may seem cured I will just go back to my damnation – it will never end, it is more likely that it will cost me my life before that. Once an addict always an addict.
I feel the sting of the needle; I still taste the sweet flavor of the pill. I threw myself into the rising flames of addiction, they won’t kill me, they never could, because this could never be wrong.

And…
Only now I am a whole person, only this drug makes me who I really am. This is how I adapt, this is my life.

I trust…no matter how this may fuck me up.

I live.

posted by calamity @ 6/21/2006 09:28:00 pm 0 comments

We are all faking it

Don’t tell me that you don’t, you’re just saying this to make yourself look nice, you are faking it like we all do. We know no better we think it’s the right way to do it, we are too blind to see the right thing, the right way to do it, without being a fake. We are not almighty, we are not everything in one person, we are not a man and a woman at the same time. We are just these imperfect creatures, who won’t experience anything to its perfection, but it is perfection that we want to achieve and knowing that we will never have it makes us wear a blindfold, pretending that we do have it. Perfection is not ours to have so here is the newsflash it’s all fake. For how long can you pretend, surely not forever and it all loses meaning when you realize that you are living in a world of pretends. There is more the world of pretends is actually all you have, it’s your life. Perfection is to subjective to be perfect in this life, it’s too subjective to be measured objectively, it’s too subjective to be talked about. At the same time the perfection is so objective that we can’t even touch it, can’t even come close to it, we don’t even know if it is real.
Did I scar you? I’ll make it all better, don’t cry.
The scar is never so deep it couldn’t be cured; just a few words could do it…
And here they are.
No one is perfect so we shouldn’t be demanding perfection. Demand as much as you give: don’t demand the same things back, if you do so, you shouldn’t have give them in first place, you could have keep them for yourself; demand the symbolic value.
Perfection exists and it lives in a place called utopia. Even though you can never get to it you can come close to it. How close depends only on how much you try. Religion, God? Piece of cake. Try to accomplish universal perfection. That’s a real challenge.
Don’t say this is stupid, that it doesn’t make any sense, because we are always pursuing the impossible.
Faking is all we do and what we all do it’s the extent that differs. Perfection can never be achieved, but one could get really close to it.
Look at it this way: everything possible had to be considered impossible at first, rules always change, the truth is relative.
You have to have both parts of the equation, to be complete you have to have both entities, all entities.

And if all of the above doesn’t make any sense just look at the hour when this was posted and you’ll get the answer. Nothing makes sense. Fuck it.
I’m going to bed.

posted by calamity @ 6/21/2006 01:33:00 am 2 comments

2006/06/17

apartment keys

You can't believe what I’m saying. You say you do trust me. I don’t buy it. You say you’ll prove it by giving me your apartment keys or even more then that. I don’t want them I don’t like forcing things out of people. You just have to play along to gain my trust.
I don’t want your words, if you couldn’t say it yesterday why should you today?
I’m one in a million. I won’t ask you anything just because you feel guilty for not trusting me; I know you’re telling me the things you want me to know.
But…I would still like to know. But no I will wait. Till you feel ready to tell me, till you realize that nothing you say or do will not be used against you, not if you share it with me. If you trusted me you would know that.
But then again maybe you do trust me and you just have a different way of trust. It hurts me to be this tough on you with this shit. Especially when you say how much you trust me.
It’s like when that little lemur in Madagascar looked at the lion with that big eyes, you just can’t resist to that.
I know you trust me but I guess I always want more. I guess I’m never satisfied with the weather we are having, I guess I always want to find a way to hurt other people so I could be hurt back in order to finally feel something.
So here is an answer to your question: you don’t have to marry me to prove anything, you have my trust I just hope I have yours.

posted by calamity @ 6/17/2006 05:12:00 pm 0 comments

Trust

A rare pearl.
You may say you trust people, you trust me, but I can feel the real trust, I know it when the trust is fully there. What can I do more to earn that pearl? I gave you all my trust…I guess you’re just not ready…not just yet. And I respect that. But as always I blame myself: for pushing it, for being intimidating, not being trustworthy, for scaring people off, for being silly, naïve, for getting hurt again and again and again.
I think it’s the fear that keeps us from trusting: the fear of the unknown, the fear of getting hurt.
Advice? You must take your chances; this is what you do in your life if you want to succeed at anything. You may get hurt, but hurt is the proof that you’re still alive. If you never take chances everything you’ll touch will turn into dust.
The way you feel about people reflects the way you are: if you think people are generally bad, then you are bad. If you ask me, I think people are good and only good can produce good, that is why I give trust to produce trust.
Pearls aren’t ours to keep forever, they are of no use for us in our graves, we should share them, because this enriches our lifes.

posted by calamity @ 6/17/2006 10:10:00 am 0 comments

2006/06/16

And then you say sweet dreams...

And I go to my bed, and I think…
Sweet dreams? How many times have I heard that phrase? Too many! Everyday twice I guess. It still doesn’t help. No phrase, no curse can be that strong to make my dreams sweet.
My dreams: I don’t remember them at all or I only remember the bad ones. Do I always have nightmares?
Aren’t dreams subconscious reflections of our day-to-day lives? Is my life a frightening dream? Can I feel only the pain? Is this why I do so many mistakes? Am I ruining my life just to feel something?
Questions! No answers!
Well I happen to love my life. I don’t think I’m self-destructive.
Maybe I’m the kind of a person who keeps the good things inside herself and chases the bad ones away by writing and maybe also with nightmares.
Such as dreaming a war that separates me from my loved ones – and only then I can see how much I love my family – I can’t get to them because the bridge leading me there is being bombed right in front of my eyes which fill with tears and I feel lost, there is no way home now. I fear of losing my family: I never had a real family I was a child, I mean I had one, but I grew up without a father and I guess when my stepfather came then I feeling like living in a family. I never knew how much all of that meant to me. Not before I dreamt my mother cheating with another man, that she wanted to break up the family, that no one wanted me, that I still needed them, that I am still a child, that I can’t grow up…just not right now…I woke up crying my eyes off. As I did when I dreamt my father was dying and I was so helpless.
How much fear!
Am I running away from fear in my life? Is that why it comes to hunt me down in my dreams?
I FEAR!
I fear for my love: Gogi is in some great trouble and only I know but I can’t reach him. I try to call him on my cell phone but I can’t find his number, it should be there… I try to type it out, but I never succeed, it’s always wrong and I try over and over and over again. I’m losing my mind, he could die any minute now and I can’t get this thing to work. I use the telephone. I fail I fail I fail. I feel like I’m losing him as I feel in another nightmare where he cheats one me, he just doesn’t care about me knowing his betrayal, he doesn’t care if I leave him or not, he doesn’t even care if I exist or not. But then when I wake up from these dreams in tears and shaking, ready to kill myself there he is: all loving, hugging me, kissing me, calling me silly and telling me not to worry – and I don’t fear anymore…Until I dream again.
I FEAR!
I fear that this beautiful life, this perfect love and this great person will vanish, will be taken away from me. I don’t think I deserve this life, I feel like it is a debt that I will have to pay anytime now.
And I fear.
I fear for myself, for my life.
There is this beautiful meadow, with flowers of all kinds, with pleasant smell and I run. There are daisies and the sun shines warmly. And suddenly my run becomes a run for my life: behind me there is a man chasing me with an axe, wanting to kill me. Panic! Run!
Run, run, run, run
Run away from here.
And now there is no where that I could run to. I stopped at this point and there is no way out. I’m standing on a top of the cliff – how deep the fall is, I turn around and there is that mad man, approaching me in order to kill me.
What can I do? What would be a better way to die? Should I take the jump or should I wait to butchered?
I never get to make the decision; I always wake up before that. But this feeling doesn’t go away it’s like swimming in a beautiful bleu ocean, you feel free and then suddenly there are thousands of poisonous snakes crawling all over my body. Should I stay still and drown? Should I shake them off? I just try something, it’s not swimming, it’s not shaking them off, but it keeps me alive, as they keep crawling all over my body and they do that the whole nightmare and none of them bites me, and it is so until I wake up.
Now I admit: I fear. I fear to lose everybody and everything that I love. Can you hear me nightmares? I fear! So don’t come again tomorrow or any other night. I fear of you too.
Sweet dreams? I wouldn’t say so.

posted by calamity @ 6/16/2006 10:05:00 pm 0 comments

2006/06/07

JUNKIE

This is me!
A person always in need of control – a junkie, that is unable to turn down the need, the need so harmful.
When not satisfying the need, I think of satisfying it, I think of it all the time.
The need above all the needs THE ONLY NEED.
I only need you to take the needle and shoot approval to my veins.
And here it comes the shiver, the thrill and the world around me disappears. Ecstasy, dance, sing…
I’m a junkie I give up on everything in order to satisfy my need.
How far will this go?
Will I start selling my body for pennies?
Or will I put my soul on a sale?
Fuck sharing ... I’m taking.

posted by calamity @ 6/07/2006 07:18:00 pm 3 comments

I Dream in English

I dream in English

Don’t laugh cos’ maybe you dream in some other language without even knowing it.
I dream in English, I think in English, hell I even start talking to my parents in English.
It’s all cool. But it gets messy cos’ sometimes I would need the subtitles just to check if the things I said were the things I heard.
I think in English. And my English thoughts are hurting me, killing me, so much that I have to put them on paper just to get rid of them.
I dream in English. How do I know it?
I sleep and suddenly an alarm on my boyfriend’s cell phone starts ringing in the middle of the night. Still determined to sleep I say: “fuckin’ phone I’ll break it into pieces.”
I take the mobile phone and turn off anything that could produce a noise. I try to go back to sleep but then it hits me: I too dream in English.
Funny for a person who loves her mother language and can make real effect on a reader only when she writes in that language. She sold her dreams, she dreams in English now.
Take my dreams, take my thoughts, but my poetry is my own.

posted by calamity @ 6/07/2006 06:54:00 pm 4 comments

Hold the Breath

Breathing – copied from the dictionary: The bodily process of inhalation and exhalation; the process of taking in oxygen from inhaled air and releasing carbon dioxide by exhalation, be alive.
Take it as you wish but you can’t deny that it is essential. There is no point in discussing if you like to breathe or not: it is something you do, something you can’t live without, it is a part of you (and there are some other things in life similar to that).
Now a question: why do we sometimes hold the breath?
To see if we are immortal, to see how long we can suffer, because we think we have to, because we think it is a right thing to do, because we never gave up on anything? We just do.
Let me remind you how beautiful is the second before we hold the breath: we try to enjoy the air as much as we can and at that moment we would never thought of it as polluted. We want it not only in our lungs BUT IN EVERY SINGLE PART OF OUR BODY. And it makes us shiver. And when we think we have got enough of it (although it is never really enough) we prepare to suffer, to go through the pain of letting go of air, hopefully not forever. And we do it, we say goodbye, take the last and the sweetest breath and hold it. A new world arises before us where all the senses get new forms and dimensions. It is beautiful in its own crazy way, beautiful, but you still long for air. You may even breathe in (when no one is watching) and hold the breath again just to have some hope again.
You know this won’t take long, it shouldn’t take long, you can’t be living like this…
And it stops, you succeeded the challenge and you are so happy because you can breathe normally again.
Will you miss holding the breath?
Yes.
But there will come a time when you’ll have to do it again, maybe even holding it for good; make it become your life or maybe even your death.
Just forget about it. Forget it. You’re breathing now, life is beautiful once more.
Now breathe with me, let’s breathe together, forget about the polluted air it must sting a bit the pain tells you that you’re alive.
We are alive and we should breathe and we will breathe!

posted by calamity @ 6/07/2006 05:50:00 pm 0 comments

2006/06/06

writing on a piece of paper towel

How pathetic is this? I think of thousands of things to write while mowing the lawn. Pictures cross my mind and I don’t think I can finish my job if I don’t write the thoughts down. I would hate myself if I forgot them - the thoughts suffocate me while minding my everyday business.
I’m so happy to finish my choirs cos’ I know that now I can put my thoughts to paper they won’t be lying in my brain anymore. I could speak them out, share them with you and make you carry my burden.
But I am here in this place where there is nothing to write with nor to write on. I go to my car that is usually full of all kinds of bullshit (things that shouldn’t be there) and there was no paper no pen anything that could help me to write. But hez I don’t give up. I go to the weekend house and there I see the paper towels staring at me begging to use them as something no one has use them before.
Yeah sure but I still need something to write with. I open a drawer and grab everything that could write. I’m really excited because amongst a pencil and two pens there are also red, blue and grey markers and they would be perfect cos’ they wouldn’t tear the paper towel.
Finally I try to write, but the markers are barely seen and of course as coursed they DO tear the paper towel. What now? The words want to get out the pressure is rising I see the bread on a piece of paper. PAPER! Yes! I use the paper towels and put them under the bread instead of the paper. Now it is time to use one of the pens and they both tear the paper. All that I got left is this pencil, not a normal one though: it’s the pencil that workers use to write on wood it is usually red on the outside but it leaves a grey trail and it is hard to write with because of it’s square shape, but I really have to manage it.
I write, I write about the silliest stuff – just to fill the paper. I write this bullshit although I have so many other and more important things to write about, things that are killing me inside. I WRITE ABOUT WRITING! STUPID! And by doing so I let things bother me further on. And I still write till I run out of paper, I write about whatever as long as I write and as long as the paper isn’t long enough and as long as I can keep suffocating thoughts inside of me - I’ll write them down, I will, but they demand a longer piece of paper, more patience and more time.
And I’m out of paper…

posted by calamity @ 6/06/2006 07:23:00 pm 2 comments

2006/06/03

I'm still alive.
I'll still post.
I'll still use internet.
I'm here.
And now I'll leave.
Some other day we meet.

posted by calamity @ 6/03/2006 10:18:00 am 0 comments

About Me

Name: calamity
Home: ptuj, štajerska, Slovenia
About Me: ehhh
See my complete profile