Tuesday 29 May 2007
Friday 11 May 2007
Glassy Sky
Wish I could fly there… in the glassy sky. I could creep up the glass,jump into the sky and vanish to that place where I wish to belong to
“Being somethingness”
I woke up upside down and stayed like this since always. So many people tried to help me but I never manage to change it. Upside down. The position is quite comfortable once you get used to it… it is just a matter of time, and time for me has been kind. Whatever they say.
Being somethingness is an art with so many names. Some call it philosophy, some God, some Buddha, some bullshit. I call it just by its name. Somethingness. Being somethingness is basically trying to be something with a ness. An artist with a ness, someone with a ness, oh well, anything… - a bottle with a ness…as long it has a ness.
To be something is easy but the ness can get on your way.
Writing something without knowing where is it aiming to = somethingness?
Walking without knowing where one is walking to = somethingness?
Laughing, crying, hoping, forgetting, you name it, without knowing why = somethingness?
The problem: how does one live without knowing? Conscience they say is a step for self-knowing. I agree. Unconscious is a stupid ignorance. Maybe. But how does one balance it and live without knowing? One cannot act otherwise is premeditated and does not achieve somethingness.
Well, this is my task from now on.
46538
Walked around a busy town…stopped and realised that the movement makes me feel weird…the movement, the rhythm of us…I sat in a corner and couldn’t believe that I belong to this movement, this rhythm of us…. rushing to our own business, living our emotions, looking to nowhere, not realising where are we going to…and I cried in my soul realising how much I belong to this world as well…it would be easy to let go, but we have to carry on…carry on… carry on… carry on… no apparent war here in the city but a war of reflections, of inner fights. Make a song of that, make a sound of that, but tired I realised that no sound should be made about it because the movement that people do is a sound by itself.
Today I realised that I don’t want to be beautiful. I just want to be human.
And nothing moves me…. and everything moves me…. I wish I could sat there, in that corner every day, any corner and not be myself, just be someone else…but I must carry on … carry on…carry on…
465839
Welcome back. Not a writer. Just a word spender.
This little character doesn’t know how to look outwards from her. Getting tired of this loathsome person… all her actions, reactions, thoughts and excuses. Hei you lady, wake up and face a bit of reality, pitying yourself just doesn’t work anymore. You dream maybe too high, you aim maybe too high, so please just come down, be no one, and let it be.
476758
I didn’t ask anybody. I just assumed. Aren’t we tired? And of what?
I really ain’t good at intellectual philosophy but hei one gets sad if one starts to really see. It’s all about a good laugh.
6789035
The man with long hairs.
I sat on this café in Angel. Candid café. Waiting for a friend, with plenty seats free around me, a guy approached me and asked if he could seat in the chair just next to me. No problem I said. He had long hair as if he could swim on it, as if hair were waves. I thought that at least he didn’t need any girl to warm him up in his bed. He could cuddle and make a nest in his hair. Wow that was quite a good first picture I had for him.
My friend arrived. Late as usual. We talked the banal talk of everyday life. While we were chatting along I suddenly realized that the man with the long hair was listening to us and writing down at the same time… what was he writing I will never know. I felt raped as a beach with no sand. He then looked at me and left the café.
I couldn’t understand why he did that until today. I have been doing the same lately.
People fear observation and at the same time people love to be observed, to be talked about as well. A weird contradiction. People can be my ness, and maybe it was as well the ness of the man with long hair. I will never know, and that makes me smile.
788635
you girls come and go. Once again you, like any others, had stories and an eagerness to be unique. I touched you; I slept with you thinking that this time maybe I would linger along with someone for longer. But it never happened. You girls come and go. I give in to you for a while without thinking. Without thinking I jump in a dimension where I forget that exists rules. Once tired I jump back to the dimension of remembering and without remorse I keep going, without you. Thinking that you will understand my ness, my way.
But today I asked myself if I hurt you. You girls. I linger in that thought for two minutes and I give up replacing you by a new face. Sad but true.
Diana was her name. One that I met through friends. I shagged, kissed her. She is a bad kisser. I ignore her but she still stays here with me, not wanting to let go. It was a quick affair of one week. Ten years passed and I still remember and desire her. Don’t know why and that is her beauty – I don’t know why and I still think of her. Maybe the fact of not knowing her, maybe the fact of knowing her. Her sadness is my twin brother. Her fake smile is my secret weapon. Her irony is my struggle. I meet her once in a while in my mind, in my dreams, in places with friends and I wish her to stay. My inspiration. Once again I give in to you for a while without knowing why. That is your beauty.
64789378
Time has been running like a slow-fast motion. Words flow in the open space and I see myself jumping, trying to pick them up.
Diagnostic: cerebral diarrhoea.
Notions: it doesn’t smell but its texture can be consciously felt.
Symptoms: a subtle dizziness, stupidity, a vegetable state and a not very good coordination of movements.
Treatment: sex, no cheap meditation, no moaning.
Result after treatment: cerebral upgrade!
So well, I got rid of my cerebral diarrhoea but time still seems to be running in a slow-fast motion. Let’s bring the plot and stop this entire charade!
8934766
“Every limit presupposes something beyond it” – Nabokov
Today I found out that somethingness is like a state of alert.
7864763
Apathetic: uninterested, indifferent, unconcerned, unmoved, uninvolved, disinterested, unemotional, emotionless, dispassionate, lukewarm, unmotivated.
That’s me lately. And funny enough I don’t go out of it, neither I want to. They say is a lack of will or state that one puts himself into. I agree. I want to be here, apathetic, because I gave up for a bit of time in believing in all behaviours… it seems that time stopped and I just hang in space with no movements and don’t let myself be taken by. I find myself quite an apathetic person. When not apathetic I believe that I just behave like an engine where I become an agreeable person. Cerebral diarrhoea at it’s best.
6749820
Why heal those emotions when one profits from them? Emotional pain can be a good pain, is just how we balance it. I’m tired of healing myself, and I don’t see anything wrong with me. I’m just somethingness, a somethingness with an adaptation.
8789099
Silences unnoticed. Sounds unnoticed. Steps unnoticed. Laughs unnoticed.
Please play your best tune, show me the best angle of you and leave unnoticed. Nice to meet you Mr. L, if you don’t know me just google it and you will find the unnoticed wonders of what I do: another big joke.
Time passes by and I’m addicted on being part of the audience, of this stage so much wasted… no more than that.
0893567
Don’t ask me again. I didn’t create people neither I do anything to prove that I’m worth it. Quiet thoughts that get tired of their own silence. Don’t ask me again. I didn’t sell that picture neither I do anything to prove the contrary. Just let it be and flush the explanations down the toilet. Words buzz around places and inside of our heads and none of them make a real sense just a pretty good dam excuse of what we don’t do and wish we would do. Can anyone make me smile please?
I woke up upside down and stayed like this since always. So many people tried to help me but I never manage to change it. Upside down. The position is quite comfortable once you get used to it… it is just a matter of time, and time for me has been kind. Whatever they say.
Being somethingness is an art with so many names. Some call it philosophy, some God, some Buddha, some bullshit. I call it just by its name. Somethingness. Being somethingness is basically trying to be something with a ness. An artist with a ness, someone with a ness, oh well, anything… - a bottle with a ness…as long it has a ness.
To be something is easy but the ness can get on your way.
Writing something without knowing where is it aiming to = somethingness?
Walking without knowing where one is walking to = somethingness?
Laughing, crying, hoping, forgetting, you name it, without knowing why = somethingness?
The problem: how does one live without knowing? Conscience they say is a step for self-knowing. I agree. Unconscious is a stupid ignorance. Maybe. But how does one balance it and live without knowing? One cannot act otherwise is premeditated and does not achieve somethingness.
Well, this is my task from now on.
46538
Walked around a busy town…stopped and realised that the movement makes me feel weird…the movement, the rhythm of us…I sat in a corner and couldn’t believe that I belong to this movement, this rhythm of us…. rushing to our own business, living our emotions, looking to nowhere, not realising where are we going to…and I cried in my soul realising how much I belong to this world as well…it would be easy to let go, but we have to carry on…carry on… carry on… carry on… no apparent war here in the city but a war of reflections, of inner fights. Make a song of that, make a sound of that, but tired I realised that no sound should be made about it because the movement that people do is a sound by itself.
Today I realised that I don’t want to be beautiful. I just want to be human.
And nothing moves me…. and everything moves me…. I wish I could sat there, in that corner every day, any corner and not be myself, just be someone else…but I must carry on … carry on…carry on…
465839
Welcome back. Not a writer. Just a word spender.
This little character doesn’t know how to look outwards from her. Getting tired of this loathsome person… all her actions, reactions, thoughts and excuses. Hei you lady, wake up and face a bit of reality, pitying yourself just doesn’t work anymore. You dream maybe too high, you aim maybe too high, so please just come down, be no one, and let it be.
476758
I didn’t ask anybody. I just assumed. Aren’t we tired? And of what?
I really ain’t good at intellectual philosophy but hei one gets sad if one starts to really see. It’s all about a good laugh.
6789035
The man with long hairs.
I sat on this café in Angel. Candid café. Waiting for a friend, with plenty seats free around me, a guy approached me and asked if he could seat in the chair just next to me. No problem I said. He had long hair as if he could swim on it, as if hair were waves. I thought that at least he didn’t need any girl to warm him up in his bed. He could cuddle and make a nest in his hair. Wow that was quite a good first picture I had for him.
My friend arrived. Late as usual. We talked the banal talk of everyday life. While we were chatting along I suddenly realized that the man with the long hair was listening to us and writing down at the same time… what was he writing I will never know. I felt raped as a beach with no sand. He then looked at me and left the café.
I couldn’t understand why he did that until today. I have been doing the same lately.
People fear observation and at the same time people love to be observed, to be talked about as well. A weird contradiction. People can be my ness, and maybe it was as well the ness of the man with long hair. I will never know, and that makes me smile.
788635
you girls come and go. Once again you, like any others, had stories and an eagerness to be unique. I touched you; I slept with you thinking that this time maybe I would linger along with someone for longer. But it never happened. You girls come and go. I give in to you for a while without thinking. Without thinking I jump in a dimension where I forget that exists rules. Once tired I jump back to the dimension of remembering and without remorse I keep going, without you. Thinking that you will understand my ness, my way.
But today I asked myself if I hurt you. You girls. I linger in that thought for two minutes and I give up replacing you by a new face. Sad but true.
Diana was her name. One that I met through friends. I shagged, kissed her. She is a bad kisser. I ignore her but she still stays here with me, not wanting to let go. It was a quick affair of one week. Ten years passed and I still remember and desire her. Don’t know why and that is her beauty – I don’t know why and I still think of her. Maybe the fact of not knowing her, maybe the fact of knowing her. Her sadness is my twin brother. Her fake smile is my secret weapon. Her irony is my struggle. I meet her once in a while in my mind, in my dreams, in places with friends and I wish her to stay. My inspiration. Once again I give in to you for a while without knowing why. That is your beauty.
64789378
Time has been running like a slow-fast motion. Words flow in the open space and I see myself jumping, trying to pick them up.
Diagnostic: cerebral diarrhoea.
Notions: it doesn’t smell but its texture can be consciously felt.
Symptoms: a subtle dizziness, stupidity, a vegetable state and a not very good coordination of movements.
Treatment: sex, no cheap meditation, no moaning.
Result after treatment: cerebral upgrade!
So well, I got rid of my cerebral diarrhoea but time still seems to be running in a slow-fast motion. Let’s bring the plot and stop this entire charade!
8934766
“Every limit presupposes something beyond it” – Nabokov
Today I found out that somethingness is like a state of alert.
7864763
Apathetic: uninterested, indifferent, unconcerned, unmoved, uninvolved, disinterested, unemotional, emotionless, dispassionate, lukewarm, unmotivated.
That’s me lately. And funny enough I don’t go out of it, neither I want to. They say is a lack of will or state that one puts himself into. I agree. I want to be here, apathetic, because I gave up for a bit of time in believing in all behaviours… it seems that time stopped and I just hang in space with no movements and don’t let myself be taken by. I find myself quite an apathetic person. When not apathetic I believe that I just behave like an engine where I become an agreeable person. Cerebral diarrhoea at it’s best.
6749820
Why heal those emotions when one profits from them? Emotional pain can be a good pain, is just how we balance it. I’m tired of healing myself, and I don’t see anything wrong with me. I’m just somethingness, a somethingness with an adaptation.
8789099
Silences unnoticed. Sounds unnoticed. Steps unnoticed. Laughs unnoticed.
Please play your best tune, show me the best angle of you and leave unnoticed. Nice to meet you Mr. L, if you don’t know me just google it and you will find the unnoticed wonders of what I do: another big joke.
Time passes by and I’m addicted on being part of the audience, of this stage so much wasted… no more than that.
0893567
Don’t ask me again. I didn’t create people neither I do anything to prove that I’m worth it. Quiet thoughts that get tired of their own silence. Don’t ask me again. I didn’t sell that picture neither I do anything to prove the contrary. Just let it be and flush the explanations down the toilet. Words buzz around places and inside of our heads and none of them make a real sense just a pretty good dam excuse of what we don’t do and wish we would do. Can anyone make me smile please?
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