Tuesday, June 30. 2009
Completely Different
Today I had a really hard, a sad time to accept what I could not change. I've talked before about this gap that's always there between people, even when love is involved.
It's just hard to accept that you cannot make someone do what you want this someone to do. Especially if you haven't reached the stage of love - yet. Or if you are not supposed to reach it. Or don't want to reach it at all. Or if you don't know what you want to reach but know what you want: to be noticed.
Plaintext, it's hardest, if one of two has reached a different level. A heart always becomes so small when someone is rejecting or not recognising it. Even if it's unintentional.
So. And here I am having stumbled right into a fantasy. Triggered by a pair of hands that know what they are doing. Hands that show more heart and feeling that I imagined possible in a person. Touching so gently what is not even skin or hair, caressing a prescious gadget. I've watched this caressing many many times while my imagination kept playing tricks on me. And I also got drowned in this fantasy.
And what's even worse, at that time I didn't even realise what had happened to me. Until something else came up. The caressing gained a voice. And I? Got lost. This was something completely different. My imagination added up and made a story out of it.
So going to sleep is a real challenge now. I lift off as soon as my resting consciousness allows it, I lift off and go on the same route every night, into a darkness full of beautiful tones, being caressed myself, being held and more. I wake up with a smile, I tell you. And then the sobering sets in. And I realise that it's been a week without a word. That this is all nothing. Less than nothing, really, if I think it through, 'cause from what I know it could all be a nameless fantasy.
The only option for an artist is to say something without saying it. That's called faculty of expression. Well I guess there is also a huge gap between me and artistry.
It's just hard to accept that you cannot make someone do what you want this someone to do. Especially if you haven't reached the stage of love - yet. Or if you are not supposed to reach it. Or don't want to reach it at all. Or if you don't know what you want to reach but know what you want: to be noticed.
Plaintext, it's hardest, if one of two has reached a different level. A heart always becomes so small when someone is rejecting or not recognising it. Even if it's unintentional.
So. And here I am having stumbled right into a fantasy. Triggered by a pair of hands that know what they are doing. Hands that show more heart and feeling that I imagined possible in a person. Touching so gently what is not even skin or hair, caressing a prescious gadget. I've watched this caressing many many times while my imagination kept playing tricks on me. And I also got drowned in this fantasy.
And what's even worse, at that time I didn't even realise what had happened to me. Until something else came up. The caressing gained a voice. And I? Got lost. This was something completely different. My imagination added up and made a story out of it.
So going to sleep is a real challenge now. I lift off as soon as my resting consciousness allows it, I lift off and go on the same route every night, into a darkness full of beautiful tones, being caressed myself, being held and more. I wake up with a smile, I tell you. And then the sobering sets in. And I realise that it's been a week without a word. That this is all nothing. Less than nothing, really, if I think it through, 'cause from what I know it could all be a nameless fantasy.
The only option for an artist is to say something without saying it. That's called faculty of expression. Well I guess there is also a huge gap between me and artistry.
Wednesday, June 24. 2009
Getting Up
That stupid sound of my mobile waking me up! I'll have to change it. I will. Definitely. One day! Another eight minutes to go before I get up. But even before that, I drag myself into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Back to bed. Was I up? I lose my -
That stupid sound, again. I used to have such an inspriring alarm, the sound of a rivulet, singing birds, a barking dog. But I wrecked that phone. I drowned it in my morning coffee one freezy winter day. That was the time when I needed a hot bath to get by. I put the mobile on a chair next to the sink and the bath tub (my bathroom is a little small, yes), my cup of coffee right next to it. And then I relaxed. What a shame not everyone knew that I was relaxing, so that no one would have called. But someone did. I never got to know who, though. Because when I tried to grab the ringing mobile, I knocked over the cup and the coffee landed in a bucket underneath the sink. So did my mobile.
Well I have to get up now. The water's hot! While I pour myself a little instant coffee, organic, of course, I listen carefully to the birds in the backyard. Any news?
Great coffee! I really enjoy having it. This and a nice shower in a summer breeze. There is nothing I detest more than a freezing bathroom. That is why I can agree to summer. Definitely not because of the heat. A warm bathroom and a hot bath in winter. No heating required in summer. Specialties.
After the shower, still wrapped in a massive towel, I walk into the living room with a plate of fruits. This is a foolish attempt to persuade myself to eat healthier stuff. It's never gonna work. Around ten I will be longing for some dark bread (not that stuff the Anglo-Saxons call bread) with cream cheese, or toast with marmelade and salty butter underneath. Or even sausage.
The first phone call that kills my private little morning peace comes in about five minutes later, when I am just about to shovel the last slice of cut banana into my mouth. The world is reaching out to me. Great Scott. That was bound to happen.
That stupid sound, again. I used to have such an inspriring alarm, the sound of a rivulet, singing birds, a barking dog. But I wrecked that phone. I drowned it in my morning coffee one freezy winter day. That was the time when I needed a hot bath to get by. I put the mobile on a chair next to the sink and the bath tub (my bathroom is a little small, yes), my cup of coffee right next to it. And then I relaxed. What a shame not everyone knew that I was relaxing, so that no one would have called. But someone did. I never got to know who, though. Because when I tried to grab the ringing mobile, I knocked over the cup and the coffee landed in a bucket underneath the sink. So did my mobile.
Well I have to get up now. The water's hot! While I pour myself a little instant coffee, organic, of course, I listen carefully to the birds in the backyard. Any news?
Great coffee! I really enjoy having it. This and a nice shower in a summer breeze. There is nothing I detest more than a freezing bathroom. That is why I can agree to summer. Definitely not because of the heat. A warm bathroom and a hot bath in winter. No heating required in summer. Specialties.
After the shower, still wrapped in a massive towel, I walk into the living room with a plate of fruits. This is a foolish attempt to persuade myself to eat healthier stuff. It's never gonna work. Around ten I will be longing for some dark bread (not that stuff the Anglo-Saxons call bread) with cream cheese, or toast with marmelade and salty butter underneath. Or even sausage.
The first phone call that kills my private little morning peace comes in about five minutes later, when I am just about to shovel the last slice of cut banana into my mouth. The world is reaching out to me. Great Scott. That was bound to happen.
Monday, June 22. 2009
OPEN 3
I lied. There was a time when I loved, and was loved in the same way. At least I believed myself to be in such a love. You never know it till it's finished. And even then there is no truth in this statement, because the minute that he or she walks out of the door, you start making up your story.
I'm gonna make up two stories. And you alone decide, which one is true.
I'm gonna make up two stories. And you alone decide, which one is true.
OPEN 2
Did I say I wasn't gay? Oh, maybe I am. How pathetic can you be cuddeling a tumble dried towel instead of a breathing being. Why, say, just put it round your neck and it might support your sore shoulders.
What would you believe of the words of a fucked up old Ex-Junkie. Well, here you have me. Ask me anything, I've probably been there. Want to benefit from my unique experiences? I'll gladly enlighten you: Life can be shit. It needn't, though.
What would you believe of the words of a fucked up old Ex-Junkie. Well, here you have me. Ask me anything, I've probably been there. Want to benefit from my unique experiences? I'll gladly enlighten you: Life can be shit. It needn't, though.
(Page 1 of 2, totaling 5 entries)
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