call me Taz

so today I made a new folder called MA. it already contains the first file for me to study before I get round to my grand scale shamming of the academic work on the protagonists' gender in the great, sophisticated literature. here we go.

after a cup of green tea and a bucket of coffee I'm frisking like a wacko. where the fuck is my lover when I need her.

the secretary in our stately institute gave me today a digitalized version of a document that I'm not really allowed to possess. you're pretty much hot, too, missy.

what else – my organism used to the Riga standards demands alcohol in godless amounts. the problematic part: the Riga company have gone their separate ways to the hell, to London or to work. so, my evening bottle of wine will have to do [2/3 of the bottle is mine, anyway], but I still wash it down with my secret martini on the rocks, loved by no one but me.

I'm looking forward to the short period of being here and there which starts tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to tomorrow's evening. I'm looking forward to what I'm having here and now. hell, I like this жизнь of mine, that bitch. wondering when things will get fucked up.

plus, I'm eating like a pig these days, making a resolution with every bite to do better in the future, to lose some weight and stop stuffing myself with food that much. there's definitely something wrong about me and the feed. so, let's go to warm up a ciabatta, shall we?

know-how

stuff like that:

http://elka-gra.blog.pl/
http://transfokator.blogspot.com/

should inspire me.

but

in fact

I feel like sitting back deep in the blissful passiveness of an audience.
clear the way for those who know how to do it.

balancing acts

tonight
I don't want to talk to anybody
I just want to listen to Zoë Keating.

people are mad wolves
or maybe I'm out of my mind.

there's a haven I reach every few days
I'm trying not to be
greedy
possessive
insatiable
about it.

my university has never been that disappointing. from the eight terms I've been through, this one is going to break the record of futility.

can envious friends
absent friends
still be trusted?

mother and father are growing more and more distant after I set them adrift.

so, I have to be careful of my haven
not to break it
but not to let it dominate everything I am.
call me an equilibrist.

bedtime story

May my life be a port town, open to the world and spacious. May the humid wind blow, may the tulips be in bloom. May I have the patience to welcome with serenity, wisdom and kindness everyone who finally reaches the shore. The port pub like a lighthouse, waves of rain against the roof, let it be, may it come, and I'll know the way to the inside, to the warmth. May I be impressive, full of opportunities and stimulation enough to be really sufficient.