May water

what am i doing what am i doing what am i doing what am i doing
full stop
i don't look cause i won't see what comes next anyway
this May, full of rain, pride and sensuality, has lasted for a moment, but it feels like forever



like forever

funny, her name means "star of the sea".

2 hrs of sleep, 3 glasses of beer, too many cigarettes

my hundred per cent femininity displayed in the thorough in-depth analysis of other people's (of the person's) actions, utterances and their (her) environmental details has just driven me crazy. maybe I should try applying some ignorance, instinct and/or sleep to my mental daily routine. maybe I should go and visit my parents. something tells me that seeing a cow or rather watching it for a longer period of time might work wonders for me.

p.s. I officially hate my thesis supervisor.

have no problems? create some for yourself

Wojewódzki writes for Polityka. Facebook has fucked up my interests and favourites sections. so did deviantArt with the gallery browser. I feel lost.

isn't. life. tricky

it's funny when you go around wondering how to tell the person that it's oh so nice but it just won't work out and you ask your friends how to do it in a classy charming style and you really think of excuses you'll text the next day and then the next day comes and you hear that it all should probably slow down and you find yourself thinking shit! this might have actually been [might still be?] something so that you have to use all your self-control power not to write how much you want to see the face RIGHT NOW. funny, huh.

easy peasy

one two three. nothing. it was easy. simple. after the efforts, compromises and sticking to my conscience, all of which gave me nothing but stomach aches in the morning, this time it was naturally devoid of questions and explanations. and I have nothing. no burden of excuses or grudges. totally nothing. one two three. and each time felt so good.

the great split

actors play their roles. there's someone I talk to about university, but not about me – that's for somebody else. I'm scared to another person, to yet another I set the trend. I like someone a lot, but I make love to somebody else. funny to expect that just one human being alone could function as all these at the same time.

I wanna explode_watch me

they sell Convert shoes in the city. I listen to Tegan & Sara. but much more Uh Huh Her. home seems light years away. university sucks in this term. but I suck it up. boys & girls give me cigarettes. and so on.

a story of a woman who hung around with a bullet hole

funny how some emotions, swollen and supernaturally powerful, get covered with tissue so that you can feel them under your skin as if they were a part of your body. and then when they're taken away from you, when your truth is turned inside out so that you don't recognize it any more, it is like an amputation and your nerve endings don't know what to do with that sudden emptiness, they raise the alarm; it hurts. it's easy to distinguish a non-physical element in it, cause it only heals, but never, never fills up.

bitter bitter lilac

I went out in the evening; the foundations for life are ready. the soil is dark and wet from the rain. the cow is full, her low mooing – safe, like warm milk before going to bed. apple trees and lilac in bloom. phosphorescent whiteness, irremovable, even when deep into the dusk. like guilt.
they say the neighbor's husband died last month. it seems entirely improbable that he should never come back.
the fence is rough, but in the hollows it gets childlike smoothness. the skin of the sprouts – pliable and strong. that – yes. that's something I know. but her sudden loneliness – so entirely improbable.

sisters brothers

cause society is a really fucked up construct. the more you convince yourself and everybody else that you don't give a shit about it, the harder they will kick your as and prove to you that you're doomed to its rules. cause if not, you automatically lose. happy joyful kurwa family.

hydroxyzine

my love
my savior

last night I had a dream about You

so what.
but still.

the air's warm, the music's immense

I don't read anybody's dreams. I don't worry, don't seek anybody's favors. I live without anybody so much that the empty space doesn't even bear anybody's shape. water without any ripples. I'm happy for myself, make plans for the future of my own. nobody's got anything to do with it. nobody. the same cd three times over and there's probably going to be four, five, ten. Till I go to sleep, to nowhere. and there's nothing of a drama to it. I guess I've just known, what I risk on the other side. I guess that's it.

UPDATE

AND today was so beautiful funny amazing & full of love [which is not contrary to what I wrote above] that it made me cry in the end.

lighthousekeeping

So May has come, the month of passion. The rain's long-drawn-out and somehow determined, as if it expressed my state of mind. A great water wall, after which I can start with a new paragraph, although there's no doubt it is still the same story; long and dark narration with bright points within, which have to be recognized, brought out and then meditated upon to make them stretch in time into a permanent state. So, in some way there will always be the Sunday walk with M., a wonderful break with time normally filled to the brim with translations and thesis writing. In some way there will always be that cup of tea drunk at the terrace in my mother's company and that evening the previous day when I kept my head on her knees and her hand was on my temple, rough from allergy and worm from love. There will always be the moment of inebriation on wheat beer in a pub in a once Jewish district, and then Turkish food on a bench in the city center. And there will always be that afternoon in the tattoo studio, where Bob Marley's concert album is always on and where they're always waiting for you to come just like that, to talk. Where they have an amazing view from the window. All these are chopped, fragmentary, knowing their end too well. Still, it's meant to be forever.
But what to do with the dark substance. With my anger when almost every day I hear evidences of homophobic stupidity. With the injustice that might be well the motto of my university. With the sever lack. With the painful memory. With the grief. With the grim surprise when an old friend tries to make a fool of me. With the fear that I'm not gonna make it and there's nowhere I can find help. What to do with the possibility that I might never get to be the person I think I really am. And with the yearning. The load's too big for me. Too big.

UPDATE
green! green! it's all GREEN!

and the sun is speaking my mind much better than the rain did.
listening to Beirut.