2010/02/24
Marion: Longing.
no i aniele ty co pachniesz wódką i papierosami powiedz przecież wiesz dlaczego nie mogę być wolna
the lesbian Bible says...
"What I want is for you to write "f*** me" on your chest. Write it! Do it! And then I want you to walk out that door, and I want you to walk down the street, and anybody that wants to f*** you, say, "Sure, sure, no problem." And when they do, you have to say, "Thank you very, very much," and make sure that you have a smile on your face, and then, you stupid f*** coward, you're going to know what it feels like to be a woman!"
,said Ms Jenny Schecter in Episode 11. I pay quite a lot of attention to this character as if it could reveal to me, what would happen, if I pushed myself to the limit. if I followed the ghosts, the voices, the need of self-distraction. 'Cause they're talking a lot to me these days.
,said Ms Jenny Schecter in Episode 11. I pay quite a lot of attention to this character as if it could reveal to me, what would happen, if I pushed myself to the limit. if I followed the ghosts, the voices, the need of self-distraction. 'Cause they're talking a lot to me these days.
2010/02/23
2010/02/20
February clover
one.
my hometown is like an old dirty sheepskin coat with a garish flower brooch. I truly hate it at this time of year.
two.
[Some] People are like dogs. They come, stay on your couch for a while and then go away, leaving you alone with their shit.
three.
I'm like a cat with white fur. Looking at me you can always tell what I've been through.
my hometown is like an old dirty sheepskin coat with a garish flower brooch. I truly hate it at this time of year.
two.
[Some] People are like dogs. They come, stay on your couch for a while and then go away, leaving you alone with their shit.
three.
I'm like a cat with white fur. Looking at me you can always tell what I've been through.
2010/02/18
2010/02/10
spinster's patchwork
I walk and fill in the gaps. I tailor the patches large, but the emptiness still lets show.
Look, it almost fits. If you squint and look from a distance, it looks like something real, something healthy and normal. But then a moment of calmness and focus is enough to make it obvious again. It's when it's too dark to see and I have to deride myself.
I don't know what is missing, I don't know what I need to fill it with. Maybe it's my mistake to call it a lack in the first place.
Constantly alert, as if a verification were to come, the final judgment of what I've experienced.
Everybody says, look ahead, it is where your chances are.
But I'm kind of too scared to look them in their face.
I've known the feeling when the only thing about yourself that you truly perceive is yearning that brings pain.
Still, I haven't got used to that.
Look, it almost fits. If you squint and look from a distance, it looks like something real, something healthy and normal. But then a moment of calmness and focus is enough to make it obvious again. It's when it's too dark to see and I have to deride myself.
I don't know what is missing, I don't know what I need to fill it with. Maybe it's my mistake to call it a lack in the first place.
Constantly alert, as if a verification were to come, the final judgment of what I've experienced.
Everybody says, look ahead, it is where your chances are.
But I'm kind of too scared to look them in their face.
I've known the feeling when the only thing about yourself that you truly perceive is yearning that brings pain.
Still, I haven't got used to that.
2010/02/05
anger advisable
The Man sitting in front of me is saying I should be angry. It would be natural. And make things so much easier. After all, you're in pain, he says.
The Man is handing me a tissue, he's sitting silent, trying to support me, but he just doesn't know.
Good luck on your way, he's been waiting since the very beginning to say that to me.
It is possible, he says, though it takes so much time.
I have to pretend a fighter when talking to him, these are the rules here.
Can't you hear that what you're saying is just not true, he asks me.
Yes. No. 'Cause if everything was built on a lie, maybe it's revaluation that we need?
The Man, his firm handshake. I almost want to believe in his logical, good stories.
The Man is handing me a tissue, he's sitting silent, trying to support me, but he just doesn't know.
Good luck on your way, he's been waiting since the very beginning to say that to me.
It is possible, he says, though it takes so much time.
I have to pretend a fighter when talking to him, these are the rules here.
Can't you hear that what you're saying is just not true, he asks me.
Yes. No. 'Cause if everything was built on a lie, maybe it's revaluation that we need?
The Man, his firm handshake. I almost want to believe in his logical, good stories.
2010/02/04
lesson 1, exercise 1
I think I know what I wish for my future. I'd like to learn more languages. [It seems languages are like tattoos; after the first one you're a believer, after the second one you're already an addict.] I want to get to know the languages, but never become a defined speaker of them. I don't want to work as a translator, the trainer of words and meanings. And I don't want to be a teacher either, grooving the same lessons and drills year after year. I just want to learn the languages. The constellations of potential possibilities that I'll never completely recognize, and for sure never make use of.
It's amazing, foreign languages are fairy tales that you never stop believing in. Then you finally find yourself among the people behind the words and they turn out to be exactly what you've already known in your hometown. But then you discover yet another language and you let yourself be deceived again. It seems this time these are really different stories, unknown dimensions.
Linguistic nymphomania. This one's harder, that one more sibilant. Strange reactions of your own body when you here the sounds. Daydreaming. Physical self-awareness as you carefully perceive your speech organs.
Persuading yourself that a few hundred miles away things would be completely different.
That's what I'm thinking these days when I'm lying in bed with a cold.
This, and that women are amazing. Most amazing.
[actually, some women can be amazing at times. at times, they can't. some of them never even get close to being amazing. but the outcome is still better then on the masculine side. I guess.]
It's amazing, foreign languages are fairy tales that you never stop believing in. Then you finally find yourself among the people behind the words and they turn out to be exactly what you've already known in your hometown. But then you discover yet another language and you let yourself be deceived again. It seems this time these are really different stories, unknown dimensions.
Linguistic nymphomania. This one's harder, that one more sibilant. Strange reactions of your own body when you here the sounds. Daydreaming. Physical self-awareness as you carefully perceive your speech organs.
Persuading yourself that a few hundred miles away things would be completely different.
That's what I'm thinking these days when I'm lying in bed with a cold.
This, and that women are amazing. Most amazing.
[actually, some women can be amazing at times. at times, they can't. some of them never even get close to being amazing. but the outcome is still better then on the masculine side. I guess.]
happy sunny wintertime
Fear is eating me, piece by piece. I don't know what was there before the era of fear began; whether there was anything at all. Fear is my motivation and restriction, I speak the language of anxiety and perceive things in categories of potential threat and non-threat. I have fear on my face and in my blood. It is my name. Everything inside me has rotten with fear, there's only a thin layer coating me. If you prick it, I'll explode.
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