floating

2006/08/30

Life

I put on glasses, because my sight was too good. I put on the glasses not to see my world: a dark alley where drunks piss and throw up.
When I put on my glasses I can’t even see lovers wandering in my alley, making love passionately. There, to hide from the worlds eyes. There, at a place so sinful that nothing could be a sin. I’m spared of it all.
I see only beautiful colors of kaleidoscope: build with the same elements, the same proportions, but with a different order of appearance which is the master of the play of the colors.
The kaleidoscope glasses brought life into my hidden alley, they brought motion.

And the glasses broke. I could see perfectly again, my vision wasn't blurred by the beauty I have witnessed before.
In front of me, in the smelly alley a lady stared at me with a determinate look which said: “Here you go.” And she threw her cards at me.
Skeleton queen was the one that got stuck in my broken glasses.
The lady vanished after that, but the card stayed there for life, it was engraved in my heart.
Destiny – that’s what they called her.

posted by calamity @ 8/30/2006 10:01:00 pm 4 comments

Swing Again

How many swings will it take before you loosen the grip on the chain that holds your swing safely to the tree? How many swings before you start trusting it, trusting it won’t break?
Even if it breaks holding it tight won’t help you, you’ll fall anyways. Maybe it would hurt more then than if you would just let go and went with the fall.
You have been swinging all your life, you have learned to loosen the grip, but that’s not the only challenge you must face. You even let go every now and then, carefully though, with your hands close to the chain of life.
The final challenge however is still ahead of you: you will have to step down and let the others swing for a while, you’ve had your share.
Gather your courage, swing high into the sky and then let go, fly away, fly. Let the wind play with your hair, let it glaze your face, let it kiss you on the lips, let it caress your nipples, let it go low and lower, deep and deeper. Let it cool you down from the warm feeling it gave you.And then land on the soft turf and just lie there, enjoy the ecstasy let the feeling go out the door, smile and say goodbye.

posted by calamity @ 8/30/2006 09:48:00 pm 4 comments

A TALK

Tell me whatever it is. Don't hold it in.
I don’t kiss and tell, I hardly judge and I am here to listen.
Tell me anything; break the wall of silence that we tried so hard to build around us. Put off your load, it’s not yours to carry, give it to me.
Let me accompany you in your dark room.
I’m not what you think I am, I never will be. I just need to know. Always. Even if…
You’re here to tell.
I’m here to listen.
It is called conversation.
So just throw it into my face and I’ll analyze it, name it, define it, tell you what it does to you, what it does to me, what it does to us, to the society. I’ll compare it to those alike and to the ones that are different. I’m all theory; this is what I worked for. I’m a professional, I can take it. All theory.

posted by calamity @ 8/30/2006 09:30:00 pm 0 comments

2006/08/28

breathe in

I have been breathing. Hardly, but I have.
It just seemed the more I wanted the more the air refused to get in. Maybe it was scared that it’ll get lost in the vacuum of my lungs. Scared to surrender.
I was breathing shallowly, but enough to keep myself alive, enough to embrace the warm sweet oxygen pure that came when ready.
I never needed more than to be, just to breathe, but my materia prima demands more and my inherent aptitude that drives my id with eros and tanatos (sexual and aggressive nature) must be suppressed by my ego and super-ego and I have to put off the need for air in order to survive. I have to wait for the darkness to come to be granted a breath. Maybe even allowed to sit down and breathe deeply.
I’m getting used to keeping the air in for a longer time and not breathing, but the time will come when I’ll have to keep it in shall hardly afford any deep breaths before that. I’m not sure I will survive this airless wave: this time it won’t be seconds, minutes, hours, days it will be months, maybe even years.
Not even little sins, not even sneaking out and taking a little breath will suffice (what if it appeals me too much? What if…).
Choking, struggling for air, a clean breath will give the world new colors, a change. Maybe I will learn to live my death fully. Maybe I won’t long for the feeling of life anymore.
Will the air miss being consumed by me? Would it ever admit that?

posted by calamity @ 8/28/2006 12:34:00 pm 0 comments

2006/08/27

Swinging

“Isn't funny, that when you swing, it somehow makes you seem like you can fly away from it all if you just get high enough!” said Kourtney once.

And then it just hit me…how right she was. How real her words were, how true to so many people. And how disturbing. How many questions.

In a grown-up world with so many disappointments so many things to get away from when one should really swing…well why don’t we? Why do we think it’s silly? Why do we always associate swings with children? Why don’t we swing when we grow up? Are we too afraid to hope; are we too afraid to dream, to believe we could fly away from everything? Or did we grow up? Did the life teach us that we could never get high enough, we could never fly away?
We should dream. We should believe. Because our dreams keep us alive, they keep us going.
We could fly even if just for a second. Even one tiny second is enough to put things aside.
How wonderful it would be to be a child again, for a day or so, to swing just for the cause of swinging, for hope of touching the sky, to fly with the birds as you would be one of them. With hoping you could be a Peter Pan, that you will fly, never grow up.

I will go and search for a swing and then just wait for my wind of love to push me high and higher and the disappointments will go away. But I know I’ll have to step on my feet again and new ones will store giving me even more of a reason to start swinging away.

It would be so wonderful to see you all swinging but the hope that you will do so in a near future makes me smile. Search for a swing, sit on it, close your eyes and swing, just for the sake of reaching the sky just for the sake of being a child for a minute, just to be, to breathe, just to feel you are still alive.

posted by calamity @ 8/27/2006 08:46:00 pm 6 comments

a peep into my shit

Why have a mind? What to do with it?
Do I need it to make stupid assumptions, prejudices and shit that even animals are too smart to practice?
If we want to prove that different races exist people would have to differ in more extensive gene patterns than their skin color. Genetics haven’t discovered any connection between genes that determine complexion and any other gene pattern.
Gene diversity has little to do with race: 85% of differences in human genes exist in differences between people living in the same country; another 5 – 10% are differences between individuals living in the same continent within the same “race”.
In general people are more genetically homogenous than other species. For example genetic variations between snails in Pyrenean valleys are bigger than genetic variations between English people and Australian natives.
So what divides us? What makes us so different? Culture, language? They are all human products. Everything we invent destroys us. Jinxed.

posted by calamity @ 8/27/2006 08:41:00 pm 4 comments

2006/08/23

Changing location by moving back and forth and in every direction

I was so sad when you didn't show up, I was so sad sitting all alone on my swing without the warm wind blowing and taking me to the heights of life.

I was just there hanging on the promise of your arrival, my feet touching the deep ground, the cold grey ground, the unfertile soil.

Unable to part from the swing I knew the wind would come, I just didn't know when. Prepared to wait, used to it, patience has become a new skill I have learned.

I will swing, I will reach sky and beyond. Not scared of the heights of never endings, not alone, but wrapped in my warm wind that’s all around my body keeping me safe, keeping me home.
And the universe and all that one can not behold will be clear, and I will fear nothing. Everything will make sense. Nothing will be uncertain in this certainty of wind.

When the wind comes you can cut the rope that holds the swing to an imaginary tree. We don't need it.

posted by calamity @ 8/23/2006 05:01:00 pm 2 comments

My Darkest Hour

When I think of that leafless tree…funny I never saw it without leafs, they were always there, in my fantasy. When I think of that leafless tree I think that I may have seen too many leaves, thought of it to be greater than it was, maybe even greener than all the others.
Everywhere I went I could scent the beautiful aroma it blessed us with. I loved to stay near, even if threw a shadow upon me. The shadow could never bring devastation: it was all forgotten by the sight of the light play on its leaves. There were laughs, fun time, seriousness, comfort, all there in that cozy shadow.

I don’t know if I’ll always see it this way, or better, I dare not to question this. Afraid of the ever so cruel answer that always comes to hurt you. No questions. Just live in the moment, enjoy the spring and see what winter will bring. Whatever it may or may not come, everything that was born under that leaf full tree, be it miles away, the scent of it will always bring out memories. Once given a treasure is always there if it caries that name.

And when my darkest hour comes, when the tree will be swallowed in fire, with all its leaves burning, one by one, and one sad eye will fill with tears and hardly look at the site, then I will turn around too weak to watch those damned flames destroying it. I’ll cover my eyes with my hands and turn around. Trembling with sadness I will look at my hands with eyes full of madness. My hands will be shaking, and it seems there will be much more than tears I’ll carry in them. Trying to look at my hands I’ll look from the hands. I could see a face that falling apart; I could see my face but without those loving brown eyes there, will realize that I’m falling apart…and the heartache…I’ll look towards my heart and there is a big hole in my chest, and where the red pump should be, nothing is there but a black space.
My non existing heart hurts.

The more the tree burns, the less of me is left. This had to come. I’ll just wait till nothing of me is left anymore.

posted by calamity @ 8/23/2006 04:30:00 pm 2 comments

2006/08/18

SOAP BUBBLE

When I miss you I don't long for the hot French kisses, I don't long for the wild games we play, don't long for sweating under the sheets.
The only thing I long for is your hug. The hug that is always there somehow, like a distant dream. I want someone to pinch me and tell it is true, that I’m not living a dream, that my life IS a dream.
It’s a nightmare without your hug. With all these miles between us and only a wire to connect us. But the wire is not the toughest bond; our hearts are like two wells connected so secretly but so strongly. I want this all to be over. I want you to come home, to give me the protection and peace in this hectic and loud world. I want to dig myself into your hug like bears taking cover from winter, how cosy. I wake up and it’s the blanket I’m kissing.
In you arms I’m like a child that as long as it stays there it never gas to grow up. I have everything: I don’t need a father I never had, don’t need a mother that never loved, don’t need a new car, degree, new post. I only need this to last forever.
You know darling not a second passed without missing you.
Your face is always here when I close my eyes: smiling, your green eyes are red to me; they are the reddest green color I have ever seen, love burns through them and I can feel the flames. I want to touch your angel face but then the image pops like a soap bubble when you want to hold it. So unreachable, yet I know you’re somewhere out there, longing for me trying to catch my soap bubble.

posted by calamity @ 8/18/2006 11:11:00 pm 8 comments

2006/08/17

I'M DONE!

posted by calamity @ 8/17/2006 08:29:00 pm 6 comments

2006/08/16

Writer

I don't want to sleep through y whole life.
I struggle in front of the screen, but I have to give in.
I throw myself into the bed and suddenly I don’t feel sleepy anymore. On the right side of the bed where my darling should sleep there are tons of paper and a dozen of pens. On the paper there are ideas, images that need to be expanded, explained, transferred from my fantasy to your mind, the ideas that usually come to me before I go to sleep. I write till I give into the temptation of a promising dream and I let the ideas to sleep on it as well. And as every morning they waited for me. I evolved them to something that made sense to me and something that you’ll have to give your own meaning to. But there was that gave me trouble I couldn’t read it, it might sound silly, but there are a lot of people who can’t read their own handwriting. I refused to torture myself with it (in reality I still want to know what it was about), it was just too similar to that cinema test or the logo test, the tricky thing here is that I can’t go and google it, I guess we will never know unless I find a person who can read hieroglyphs.
My eyes tired from reading the unreadable scroll down the page where you could see the last words the word written with the last strength of the author: the letters in words were stretched, the hand was probably trembling and still it had the strength to underline the words:

GOOD NIGHT

posted by calamity @ 8/16/2006 12:13:00 am 3 comments

2006/08/14

There's More

The previous event I described to you couldn't be the only think that made me believe my life was in danger, there were more signs.
First of them was that that same day in the same house I cut my little finger, just so. I’m usually not clumsy; these things don’t happen to me.
Then the next day I went with my uncle to the woods, to get some branches, well I didn’t know we will wander all around the woods and so I put on the most inappropriate shoes ever: you know the cabriolet variant of a shoe. And my uncle didn’t take any consideration for that and he led the way through the thickets parts of the woods, through bushes and thorns and nettles. At one point I felt it was too much and I decided to go back. As I was returning I slipped with my super shoes that actually belonged to my aunt and I fell. Now get this: I was going down-hill but I fell up-hill, and it resulted getting bruises on my right shoulder and arm. Right now I’m a total mess, every inch of my body hurts, I feel like shit and yes, it’s that part of the month.
I think these are some kind of signs, I’m very careful on the road these days and I even bought my lucky color underwear today. You never know anything might help. So if you have any suggestions or lucky charms (no, you don’t have to send me your lucky underwear) tell me, I would try anything to avoid life threatening situations :P

posted by calamity @ 8/14/2006 08:05:00 pm 0 comments

I Floated Alright

This shit I’ll write now will be totally trivial, but I have to write it because it could easily be the last thing I write.
Some crazy shit is happening to me lately and I feel my life is getting dangerous. Something exciting for a change you may think, but it's not that cool when it's your life.

Danger zone # 1 I went to my hairdresser
Yeah imagine, I mean a lot of women would agree with me this is dangerous especially if you intend to dye your hair, what if it turns out to be green, what if it falls off??!!
Ok I chose…come on guess what color...well I chose red. I always use different shades of red. The one I had now was orange red, quite bright; I thought something cheerful for these summer days. But the new one was called wine red and it was kind of’ dark, maybe too dark if one is still hoping for some nice warm summer weather in spite all the cold and rain we have lately (unbelievable…it’s august, come on some of the people are still hoping for a vacation fling). By the way all the weather information better go under a danger factor #1.
Danger zone #2 for me would be the location of my hair dresser that lives TOO close to my father-in-law. They’re neighbors. So every time I’m there I HAVE TO go for a coffee to my in-laws. And we always end up argufying.
Danger factor #2 me on foot.
Danger factor #3 is my laziness that keeps me from taking a longer way.
Danger factor #4 my brain that has stupid solutions when in need to overcome an obstacle. Like if the path is closed we should go other way around, no, no, we should climb the unstable fence. Yes that’s the right idea. I try to do so but danger factor #5 comes in handy now – my weight. It’s not that bad, but it can be mortal when added to all the previous factors. And the crucial moment: I have my right foot on this side and my left foot on the other side of the fence, I hear a little click, behold people: this creature can fly, it has no wings I forgot, therefore a high fall. Silence. And then hysterical laughter. Partially because I realized how much embarrassing my danger factor #4 is, partially because I was happy to be alive and in still in one piece and partially because this way the only way to forget about all the bruises for a second.
What follows the rational order in this irrational piece are moments of embarrassment. I already stated my moment of embarrassment #1 it was when I realized how stupid I was, how lucky and started laughing. Moment of embarrassment #2 was when my brother-in-law woke up from the shock and started to realize what just happened (he witnessed the whole thing) he laughed even more, we laughed till tears were running down our cheeks. Two results followed that #1 my pain of a fall #2 my stomach ache which was a result of all the laughter and was climaxed when I wanted to talk, to explain what had just happened, but I couldn’t stop laughing, so I was struggling with laughter and words and it led to some form of choking. I gave up and just laughed all the way to danger zone #3 my in-laws house. Then followed moment of embarrassment #3 (it contained also a moment of embarrassment #4) which I didn’t expect to present it self so quickly: the rest of the in-laws who were sitting quietly in the house rushed to me the second I opened the door (but how, they couldn’t see me?). I turned out that one of them saw my acrobatic show through the window and then told all the others, which brought a lot more laughter. Since all this wasn’t enough (embarrassment factor #1) my jeans were torn, and by that I mean very torn let just say that all the members of my boyfriends family except my boyfriend saw my thigh that day.
But what I’m grateful is that my trousers are as dependable they refused to show them my buttocks. I’m happy I left only with some bruises (all of my organs in place), torn trousers (that were kinda’ old), cut finger, hurt pride, a lot of laughter and tons of embarrassment (not witnessed by my hairdresser). Another great thing is that I won’t have to deal with my father-in-law for a while now, since he saw me, he hopefully won’t bug me to visit him. And most important my new hair color looks great on me. I think it’s a keeper. I knew only good could come out of this ;)

posted by calamity @ 8/14/2006 07:38:00 pm 0 comments

2006/08/10

Saviour

How I hate the fact that you still don't know me. How I hate the fact you think I’m some kind of a player. And how I hate the fact that you don’t know that honesty is all one gets from me.
Don’t judge. Don’t judge the things unknown to you, the things you shut your eyes from, the tings you don’t let close to you. It hurts too much when you imply I could do the things you hate the most. I hate that you are making this person out of me. I hate you turning me into something you hate. I hate you for even considering I could be this way, that I could do this.
Yeah sure I COULD. But you know me better…don’t you?
Don’t insult me!
I’m no player. You wish I would be.
It is me and if you think I’m full of shit then say it into my face. Make it my sweet death. As always I am willing to accept the blame for anything that went wrong, but thy who made a sin shall carry the guilt.
For me it’s all just words. If you need to label me, do so, if you need a scapegoat, I’m here. Words don’t hurt me what hurts is what will come out of this, but then again I know that I know myself and people who truly love me do so as well and I do not care for the others.

Take it out on me then, I’ll sacrifice myself, I’ll be your Jesus. On the cross I shall suffer, and sweat shall mix with blood, salty-sweet taste shall intrude my mouth. Sad my eyes will be, big tears shall be born that day. Not the fear of the death will bring them.
Does this life need to be taken in order for you to set peace in your soul? Will this be enough? Is my sacrifice for nothing?
If by this all shall end and since now no blood shall be shed then be it. Let us make a feast beneath the cross where my limbs are being torn by the heavy nails and the power of the mass.That sea of tears that I’m leaving you in only my uncertainty of your future.

posted by calamity @ 8/10/2006 07:49:00 pm 4 comments

Let the Pope Decide

Just shoot me, don’t say I’m an actor in this stupid motion film.
We want shit, we dig into shit and we get shit.
The more we want something the less we will have it.
We can make a deal, we are friends, neighbors, but when some punks in suits come (to plant a national tree of dispute between us) all arrangements fall into salty sea (too salty it is for either of us to swallow it).
The fucked it up for us, we are friends no more. They tell us we are too different, we know that’s not true (who is to tell which fruit doesn’t belong together?). Still we can never go back to fishing in the same pond, no matter whose it is.
We once knew, we didn’t need help, it was all cool. Then they came and messed it all up (it makes you wonder how much did it take?).
Now they can’t make it better, not even close to what it once was. It’s a dead-end-road. No exit. No compromise.
Whom to ask? Who’s to say? Who would be heard?
No one. Who gives a shit about suits? They just create hatred.
Take the easy way out, let some stranger decide, pretend that he knows best. He is sacred though, he’ll carry the burden of Salomon’s choice much easier.

posted by calamity @ 8/10/2006 07:13:00 pm 0 comments

2006/08/04

grown-ups

Look at us what we have become…
We had to grow up…they made us.
No more childish games we played, no more weddings on the trees.
We must forget that.
That wasn’t us, not like we are now:
With big burdens and important calls.

But we are still you and me.
We were WE once and that once will stay.

When we meet I dare not to look away, but I can’t look into your eyes.
That short look, that little hello - they say so much, they hurt.

Whenever I see you there I remember of all those days.
It’s like a movie of your whole life. In this movie there’s just US: Two small children, making castles in the sand.

We now know that waves will come with certainty, we know.

Abashed - I am now.
I see that boy in you, and I know you see that naive girl in me. We still know each other.
I’m all grown now pretending to be fledged.

Let’s leave the world that stole our dreams, our dreams of US, leave it, be US again. Let’s go and play in sand, forget about the tide.

posted by calamity @ 8/04/2006 12:33:00 am 2 comments

2006/08/01

Monologues of a Potential Fly

Monologues of a Potential Fly

We don't seem like humans to you, we are in your way, we annoy you, we are like an insect, a fly. We annoy even if we only sit there and feed of the crumbs you SO generously left there. You want to kill us anyways.
No you don’t want it.You already did kill us, because you don’t just wish, no you want it and you do it, without a second thought.
One: I wish I could,
two: I can,
three: we lie dead on the floor.
Well some of us are butchered, some only hurt, none died of a natural death (what is natural in this world today?)
We lie there…Dead or barely alive…And we just wait…We wait for the big foot to come and step on us (as if you could put us more down then the floor), we wait for the cat to come and eat us (feed your damn cat).
It doesn’t matter if we would just be, just sit there, or we would be flying around you, irritate you…no difference, we would still be flies, we have to be destroyed.

posted by calamity @ 8/01/2006 07:00:00 pm 0 comments

Weak Small Pathetic

ME

Not that small to let others decide for me, not that weak to just sit there and swallow shit without saying a word. Not that pathetic to need “protection” which really reads leadership. I’m my own leader; I don’t need a fake one.
I don’t need a fake boob – it’s an animal. It kills, it can, and it knows no better, it’s pathetic. Why would someone THAT pathetic lead me?
We have the king, we are the peasants, the bishop is telling us what to do. We have the children in poor countries working for us so we can buy cheap crap and feel good about ourselves – they are our slaves. And yes I mustn’t forget about the scapegoat that is blamed for all this bullshit around us. YES WE ARE THE WORLD.

Can’t there be a democracy? Are people truly born bad? Would I become bad?
Luckily I’ll never know, they’ll erase me first. Or better feed me middle class bullshit: make me feel like I have everything I wished for, that would keep me silent. I wouldn’t stand up cos’ I would think of family first. Why jeopardize all this comfort?
Give me some more! Make me sick!
I hope I have the strength in me not to give in, not to sell out, not to screw up, to have that power.

posted by calamity @ 8/01/2006 06:59:00 pm 0 comments

Share Heaven

We just don't seem like real people: we are far away, we are robots to you. We don’t share anything but this fucked up planet. We are just some news, a report. An amusing puppet show.
What is this renewal of the dark age? Do you find it amusing?Just come, gather around the gallows or the guillotine, whatever your cup of tea is, and look how a flock gets executed, to see how blood is being shed.

Don’t drool-like a dog when it sees a bone-after our life fluid; don’t lick your lips like you could taste the fresh slaughtered flesh. Don’t be animals we all are trying to prove not to be. Don’t be monkeys playing in the sand with all the cool toys imported from USA, but made in some third world country.
You all are children who know no better, but children at least have fear of somebody, of something, of a bogeyman – you don’t: you think you can do anything and get away with it. You can’t be forgiven.
Just feed upon flesh and drink upon blood of innocent people, make a feast, enjoy it. Do it as long as you can. You never know when the time will come for someone to feed upon your flesh and drink upon your blood.
Enjoy.
Close your eyes shut.
Be hunted by the knowing that we share the same destiny.
What happened to good old football games?
Are we all just pink with no brain?

posted by calamity @ 8/01/2006 06:57:00 pm 0 comments

In God we Trust

You count the money in the briefcase and you don’t even look at it, you don’t even know the message you were supposed to bring the world, how can we trust you if you can’t even read.I
n order to win some you have to lose some. It’s not a difficult decision for you. But look around you man, it is lives that you are loosing and money that you are getting. Lives can not be paid and yet our corrupted world has found a way to do so. And after all it is not your life it is not even lives of “your” people. Yeah you are right, if this is the case “then what life?” It is too insignificant, you don’t care. But guess what, we care, not only those who are involved, not only those who are next in the line, but also those who live from your bloody money.
You count the money, your eyes are shining, and you’re drooling.

I just hope that someday you’ll se what that money says. IN GOD WE TRUST.
I can’t see how you trust in god and at the same time ruining what he built. He will forgive, but only if you show regret for what you have done, only if you try not to do the same allover again. And I don’t see you trying, I don’t hear you say: “I’m sorry.” Judging from this you don’t trust in god, you don’t think there is one, there better not be a god, because you have too many sins, to much blood on your hands, to small of a heart, to psycho of a mind.
Why don’t you remove the letters on the money? Come on, you can do anything, why do you have to have a reminder that there could be something bigger than you and that eventually you’ll have to redempt? You won’t make a good deal with god, he won’t care for your soul, you signed a contract with the devil, you are all his.
If only you trusted in god, then I would know that you really live in fear, that you know that this life is all you have, that after your death you will suffer.
All of your victims believe in words on the money you got for them. They do trust in god, they do trust that what you did wasn’t unnoticed, wasn’t ignored, tolerated.
In god I trust that you will pay, in god I hope to stop this greedy drive that turns the world around, to god I pray that love for life he created will fill this world once more.
And you close the briefcase, you feel the satisfaction, you walk out PROUDLY.
I close my case, I feel pity, I stand tall.

posted by calamity @ 8/01/2006 06:56:00 pm 0 comments

SMALLL

I don't need your protection.
I don’t need your pity.
I don’t need your fuckin’ armed forces.

Who the hell would attack me (?) I’m too small, not worth fighting for.
And even if…I would never even consider you, not even as a just-in-case option. I can only fight with love.
And even if…
Even if love couldn’t help me, even if I would be attacked, even if I would really need you (the hell I would, cos’ no one on earth needs you-they are just too afraid to admit it) I still wouldn’t take your offer, because I don’t think you’re being honest here (honesty didn’t get you where you are today: playing the judge, even worse: the god, but in reality you will never be smarter than a dog), I don’t think you’re such a sweetheart that only wants to help without asking anything in return.
Yes, you may say that I have problems trusting people, but it would be better put if you said that I have problems with taking bullshit wrapped in shiny red paper with a golden bow on top of it (one could never give me enough bullshit; the bow could never be big enough to list all of your mistakes)
I’m too small.
Why the hell would I need wrapping paper and a bow? It’s not like I could use it again. And I sure don’t need your bullshit.
I may be small, but I ain’t stupid.

posted by calamity @ 8/01/2006 06:55:00 pm 0 comments

The End of the World

There are you and there is me. We are just people, a part of the mass. Who cares about us?
But people like you and me, individuals, create the mass and the mass has the power. It is not just the yelling coconut tree anymore. We are a forest, speaking out our opinion together, we can stick together, we can make the world work again.
Where is the world leading to? Will the leader ever change? Will there be paradise? Will I be the salve or the scapegoat?

I can feel an earthquake under my feet, pieces of our planet are tearing apart, bringing imbalance into our solar system. People are falling into big darkness of the universe, bodies are floating in nothingness, they are there for a second and then each of them blows up.
There is nothing left of this planet: no land that we so desperately defended or wanted to steal, no oil that brought damnation to the ones that had it as well as to the one who didn’t have it, no money that lead people into war under whatever pretence. This all became pieces, pieces that get lost in the universe, that melt in the vacuum.And where the world once stood there is only a little note left behind, and it says: “Sorry utopia, I couldn’t come.”
Is this what we are fighting for, do we want to ruin the world in order to be nothing eventually?

Take all the money, go and live on Mars, go and be lonely, just don’t ruin life for us who know how to live, how to love, how to give. Just fuck off, have all the oil and drive your car on the desserts of your own planet. Just take every piece of the land there and LET US LIVE. You are nobody to take, to ruin. The world belongs to all of us. You don’t like it? Who cares? Just sod off with all of your greedy friends, go somewhere, have orgies, take it all just don’t fuck us in the brain.

posted by calamity @ 8/01/2006 06:49:00 pm 0 comments

Bee

When a bee stings you it has to leave her life-sustaining organs attached to the affected point and fly away – for a second, till it drops down dead.
I used to see myself as that bee: not capable of hurting others, not without having to die myself, it wouldn’t only hurt me back, it would kill me.
But if I think OUTSIDE THE BOX many things work this way, or even not.
The sting may kill more than one cell, it could kill the whole organism (it depends on a weakness of the organism, and the poison of the bee). But then…it refuses to leave, to end it all, to drop down dead. It just stays there, threatening all the others. It refuses to do suicide, no, it stays, it even searches for new ways to get out of the situation not only alive; no, no, but also unhurt, without a scratch, fresh and dandy even, rich and powerful with a new sting just ready to pick another victim, just ready too see some interest in YOU.

posted by calamity @ 8/01/2006 06:47:00 pm 0 comments

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