In a weird way it was a sort of serenade....
thank you.
p.s.: who likes 'normal' anyway?
Sunday, 18 October 2009
Thursday, 15 October 2009
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
you have to find out, for yourself...
Over the last two weeks I've been in some kind of emotional rollercoaster in which I discover (quite insightful also) all the range of emotions a human being is capable of.... so it seems.
It all starts with some projects I was really looking forward to be part of and couldn't because of various reasons; then there is the usual pain in the ass-blondish cutie with british accent who is the biggest idiot on the planet, that, and a fucking comedy genius.
Arrrggg.... So one day you look to the future and think: what a beautiful life... I will do this and this and that... well, the next day you are back in '0' and nothing seems to be working...
Tonight I had dinner with a friend, (hard to say because before today I never really saw him as a friend, but just someone I know... but now I know he cares)
basically he told me of how much he did underestimate me in the past and how amazed he is with me now. He said something like: 'Somehow you managed to hide your strenghts from me.' In his opinion that is what I do in life... I am afraid of taking risks, of leaving my comfort zone and of showing my strenghts. 'Your playing small doesn't help the world' someone wrote in a book. Sometimes one has this amazing image of how one wants to be... but maybe in the future; I don't know... a bit like leaving life for later... something like that...
And I did think of a song a friend sang for me once (the same I sang for another friend too- but without the audience), of a Buddhist phrase and something I read in a 'New Age book'.
The Buddhist thing goes like this:
Radiant Presence-
However young,
the seeker who sets out upon the way
shines bright over the world.
Day and night
the person who is awake
shines in the radiance of the spirit.
Meditate
Live purely
Be quiet
Do your work, with mastery.
Like the moon,
come from behind the clouds!
Shine.
Song for a Friend is a song I always told myself I would remember when having a bad day... probably my fav. song by Jason.
The video is a little shitty, but hey, it was a nice present.
I also have to thank Indre for reading this blog and for being such an amazing friend. xx
Monday, 12 October 2009
Toilet Rolls...
Toilet paper is talking to me.
Something about it being the softest paper I’ve ever tried.
I reply I’m not a professional toilet paper taster. I don’t know fuck about ‘softness’.
It says it has a dimpled middle layer for extra softness.
It is the best shit in the world, a jug of warm milk coming second place.
Saturday, 10 October 2009
Just Feel...
Checking the t-shirts at Blend, I came across one called 'FEEL', it has that word printed with raised ink in Braille; I thought it was pretty cute, but what I loved the most was this: 'They say love is blind, and even if you're not, we encourage you to close your eyes. Don't think. Don't rationalize. Don't order or define. Just Feel.'
It felt good. No matter what happens... just feel.
And then I read the question of the day (which I plan to incorporate in my life like the friends do when they are on tour): 'Where are you avoiding playing a bigger game?'
It felt good. No matter what happens... just feel.
And then I read the question of the day (which I plan to incorporate in my life like the friends do when they are on tour): 'Where are you avoiding playing a bigger game?'
x
Monday, 5 October 2009
not so usual...
One
A ‘hello’ that feels uneasy, uninvited, disturbing, un-emotional, obliged. A friend, who is not a friend; a wolf that’s not wolf, nor a lion.
Two
House is empty, lights are off. How easy it is to be with oneself.
Three
Running shoes, pony tail, a jacket.
Four
The ‘event’:
His breath stank of wine; a cloud of drunkenness surrounded his every move. She heard his back crack like a broken branch, his green eyes looking at his state with tiredness, fragility. She failed every attempt of picking him up. His hands were dirty with leaves and mud; which he tried to wipe off with his coat before holding her hand; but his weight kept pulling downwards and the melancholy of his solitude covered him with an unnecessarily heavy fog. She felt as if she was holding him and not, at the same time. She was holding the empty body of an already inexistent man.
A diseased soul, the empty package of a lost chain of dreams. Suddenly the heaviness became part of her too. She wondered if she would ever love someone; she wondered if she would ever feel this lonely; she wondered if she would ever fall like this, she hoped for someone to pick her up, would she fall.
Sixth track and the fog covered the place in an embrace. A man runs past her and mumbles something undistinguishable through her earphones.
End of the track and the gate is locked. As she walks to the next door, a man and a dog walk by and disappear (probably through that same door, and with the aid of a key (not a ‘Tim Key’, just a regular key)). Next door is also locked, third, fourth door: locked. There is no way out, and in a moment of ‘I don’t-careness’ she imagines herself sleeping in this park, the cold fog hiding her from everyone, the trees drawing shadows on the ground and spiders crawling on her shoes. Silence starts to vanish to welcome a night time soundtrack, it’s as if the fog and the wind were holding conversations; there is no silence, it doesn’t exist here.
But that is not a possibility: sleeping there. No mobile phone, no keys, just a woman with a small dog and an Indian man with the creativity to build a bridge with a rubbish bin. One step, two steps, don’t be afraid of heights, just put the foot in the right place; now jump….
What a weird evening. Unusual.
A ‘hello’ that feels uneasy, uninvited, disturbing, un-emotional, obliged. A friend, who is not a friend; a wolf that’s not wolf, nor a lion.
Two
House is empty, lights are off. How easy it is to be with oneself.
Three
Running shoes, pony tail, a jacket.
Four
The ‘event’:
His breath stank of wine; a cloud of drunkenness surrounded his every move. She heard his back crack like a broken branch, his green eyes looking at his state with tiredness, fragility. She failed every attempt of picking him up. His hands were dirty with leaves and mud; which he tried to wipe off with his coat before holding her hand; but his weight kept pulling downwards and the melancholy of his solitude covered him with an unnecessarily heavy fog. She felt as if she was holding him and not, at the same time. She was holding the empty body of an already inexistent man.
A diseased soul, the empty package of a lost chain of dreams. Suddenly the heaviness became part of her too. She wondered if she would ever love someone; she wondered if she would ever feel this lonely; she wondered if she would ever fall like this, she hoped for someone to pick her up, would she fall.
Sixth track and the fog covered the place in an embrace. A man runs past her and mumbles something undistinguishable through her earphones.
End of the track and the gate is locked. As she walks to the next door, a man and a dog walk by and disappear (probably through that same door, and with the aid of a key (not a ‘Tim Key’, just a regular key)). Next door is also locked, third, fourth door: locked. There is no way out, and in a moment of ‘I don’t-careness’ she imagines herself sleeping in this park, the cold fog hiding her from everyone, the trees drawing shadows on the ground and spiders crawling on her shoes. Silence starts to vanish to welcome a night time soundtrack, it’s as if the fog and the wind were holding conversations; there is no silence, it doesn’t exist here.
But that is not a possibility: sleeping there. No mobile phone, no keys, just a woman with a small dog and an Indian man with the creativity to build a bridge with a rubbish bin. One step, two steps, don’t be afraid of heights, just put the foot in the right place; now jump….
What a weird evening. Unusual.
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