the first series was easy. but ten stimuli one after another – less so.
a man, the neurologist, held my head.
I was thinking about how much it is easier to carry on when there's someone to hold you.
2012/03/27
dear drawer,
I've been wondering:
would the fact that someone's pieces of art become the recipient's masturbation stimulus rather be a compliment or an insult from the artist's point of view?
because I feel like letting her know but I wouldn't like to be offensive.
would the fact that someone's pieces of art become the recipient's masturbation stimulus rather be a compliment or an insult from the artist's point of view?
because I feel like letting her know but I wouldn't like to be offensive.
2012/03/25
this must be the place
So I guess it's about changing the way I spend my time with people. I have to undertake fresh activities with them, stop going to the same places, sitting at the same tables and just talking. Human mind is a lazy beast. In a familiar context, without new stimuli, it will only repeat what's already known.
So yesterday I went with O. to see "This Must Be The Place", and then I fed her with mozzarella, tomatoes and zucchini at my place. What I like about this relationship is that it totally changes its form every few months or years. It was only this month that I learnt about her something that might be a key to understand a lot of her decisions and attitudes. This shows that being bored with the other person can only be unfair to them. And to the relation itself.
Today early in the morning I was thinking that if some of my relations evoke the sense of discomfort, it wouldn't be the ones which ended with a bump, pain and disappointment, but those which died a natural death as the people changed and so did I. The communication got broken and when we meet, between us there is only emptiness and a few desperate references to what we used to be. To watch things fading away can be really depressing.
But O. is not fading away. She unfolds slowly.
I give away without regret the hour stolen from last night due to the switch to the summer time. Now Sunday coffee and weekend newspaper edition. The elderly guy from across the street smokes his usual morning cigarette.
The world is not fading away. The world unfolds slowly.
So yesterday I went with O. to see "This Must Be The Place", and then I fed her with mozzarella, tomatoes and zucchini at my place. What I like about this relationship is that it totally changes its form every few months or years. It was only this month that I learnt about her something that might be a key to understand a lot of her decisions and attitudes. This shows that being bored with the other person can only be unfair to them. And to the relation itself.
Today early in the morning I was thinking that if some of my relations evoke the sense of discomfort, it wouldn't be the ones which ended with a bump, pain and disappointment, but those which died a natural death as the people changed and so did I. The communication got broken and when we meet, between us there is only emptiness and a few desperate references to what we used to be. To watch things fading away can be really depressing.
But O. is not fading away. She unfolds slowly.
I give away without regret the hour stolen from last night due to the switch to the summer time. Now Sunday coffee and weekend newspaper edition. The elderly guy from across the street smokes his usual morning cigarette.
The world is not fading away. The world unfolds slowly.
2012/03/24
the land of liquor
yesterday I was listening for three bottles of beer* why the way I live, think and what I strive after is a sequence of reasoning errors, logical mistakes and mere idealistic fantasies.
my friends never cease to amaze me.
and although it has positively nothing to do with the above, I'll share the impressive content of the shopping cart of an old man queuing in front of me today early in the morning:
yeast, butter, fat milk and a bottle of vodka.
I was just wondering how he was going to put it all together.
*don't tell my dietitian.
my friends never cease to amaze me.
and although it has positively nothing to do with the above, I'll share the impressive content of the shopping cart of an old man queuing in front of me today early in the morning:
yeast, butter, fat milk and a bottle of vodka.
I was just wondering how he was going to put it all together.
*don't tell my dietitian.
2012/03/21
the land of wannabes
I can't seem to understand why in Poland there persists the legitimized attitude which consists in proving to the individual that they're just not what they claim to be; what they think they are; what they wish to be. Just look at how both in formal and informal contexts people enjoy not calling each other the way the other person wishes to be named, but with the forms of address they simply want to utter or the ones found in the addressee's ID. And then you have the American official documents in which people can write the name they use next to the name given at birth – so this freedom of choice might actually be ex officio. But not here.
In Poland the problem exists in all sorts of realms in which individuals create their identities. They'll always have to face the wall built by the people around them, who are all too eager to point out what the individual lacks and why they'll never be good enough to achieve what they aspire to. Like the Anna Grodzka case. She's become a human shield for this Polack self-appointed jury – and thus a true heroine for she puts up with it pretty well. People consider the idiotic remarks of Law and Justice politicians just a joke, but in fact it's those dumb-asses' boorishness that prevents them from acknowledging a woman in her when she clearly feels a woman herself and functions as such according to the law. And it's not that it's just an issue of the province, from where many of the L&J politicians stem from, but it's in the big cities just as well. I've been living in Warsaw for five years now and I watch numerous circles of most interesting people with refreshing worldviews – circles which are most hermetic. Your own will and sympathizing with their ideas is just not enough to allow you to be let in. You need to have achieved something. You need to prove something.
Maybe it's just a matter of strength one needs to have to get themselves through it all.
Maybe bearing a grudge to the whole world for not being who one would like to be is just another form of the Polack carping attitude.
But I don't think I've just made up this lack of respect to the social face, which prevails in our interactions.
Live & let people live.
And as Winterson says: be kind.
Come on, it'll be fun.
In Poland the problem exists in all sorts of realms in which individuals create their identities. They'll always have to face the wall built by the people around them, who are all too eager to point out what the individual lacks and why they'll never be good enough to achieve what they aspire to. Like the Anna Grodzka case. She's become a human shield for this Polack self-appointed jury – and thus a true heroine for she puts up with it pretty well. People consider the idiotic remarks of Law and Justice politicians just a joke, but in fact it's those dumb-asses' boorishness that prevents them from acknowledging a woman in her when she clearly feels a woman herself and functions as such according to the law. And it's not that it's just an issue of the province, from where many of the L&J politicians stem from, but it's in the big cities just as well. I've been living in Warsaw for five years now and I watch numerous circles of most interesting people with refreshing worldviews – circles which are most hermetic. Your own will and sympathizing with their ideas is just not enough to allow you to be let in. You need to have achieved something. You need to prove something.
Maybe it's just a matter of strength one needs to have to get themselves through it all.
Maybe bearing a grudge to the whole world for not being who one would like to be is just another form of the Polack carping attitude.
But I don't think I've just made up this lack of respect to the social face, which prevails in our interactions.
Live & let people live.
And as Winterson says: be kind.
Come on, it'll be fun.
needless fear and sorrow
So the spring has come. But inside me there is this prevailing sense of irritating repetitiveness. Every week consists in fulfilling the same responsibilities. Friends of mine put content I already know into familiar words – which evokes my most predictable reactions. The same stimuli bring me down and I resort to the same measures to raise my spirits. And although I remember Szymborska's "Nothing Twice" lesson, I still can't resist the impression I know pretty well where I'm going to be tomorrow at a given time. Almost no margin for error.
Serenity is precious.
But boredom proves exhausting.
Serenity is precious.
But boredom proves exhausting.
2012/03/19
drama curbed
last weekend's bicycle ride, sun and wind so warm, Bartók and Martinů in the evening and delicious home made food was more than I could wish for my sleepless and sorrowful head.
up here the swoosh of trees and wind is so loud that you just can't claim there are things greater than this.
the stories told here are simple.
symbiosis is natural.
I need to remember this state. I need to meditate on it to stretch it in time, in consciousness.
up here the swoosh of trees and wind is so loud that you just can't claim there are things greater than this.
the stories told here are simple.
symbiosis is natural.
I need to remember this state. I need to meditate on it to stretch it in time, in consciousness.
2012/03/11
go, girls
Warsaw is full of sunlight on the day of Manifa – the demonstration I've always supported, but never actually attended. Today one of the main reasons is my cough which makes my stomach muscles ache. I'm going to have a Barbie figure this spring, I can tell you.
My last thought when I was falling asleep last night was that I just can't live this way any more. My shitty resistance to illness is a clear sign I got into a system that is harmful not only to my psyche, but also to my body.
I'd like to leave.
But not to the frosty Caucasus where good but sad and hurt people live.
Somewhere, where the culture of piece is preserved. Culture of simplicity and health – but not because it is already in a disastrous condition, rather as preventive measures.
Sounds like the Far East, doesn't it?
So I'm going to look for ways to bring this Far East right here. In the middle of Warsaw. On these twenty square meters, with bars in the window and a cloud of smog over the roof.
Before it's really too late.
My last thought when I was falling asleep last night was that I just can't live this way any more. My shitty resistance to illness is a clear sign I got into a system that is harmful not only to my psyche, but also to my body.
I'd like to leave.
But not to the frosty Caucasus where good but sad and hurt people live.
Somewhere, where the culture of piece is preserved. Culture of simplicity and health – but not because it is already in a disastrous condition, rather as preventive measures.
Sounds like the Far East, doesn't it?
So I'm going to look for ways to bring this Far East right here. In the middle of Warsaw. On these twenty square meters, with bars in the window and a cloud of smog over the roof.
Before it's really too late.
2012/03/10
cheesy content
something blocks me. I'm a flightless bird. I'm the embodiment of dreaming, I'm the non-realization, a plot on a grand scale unconnected with life. I'm what's unsaid, undone, underreacted.
I'm written out in weekday timetable to keep the remnants of common sense.
I'm glued together for the time being, for the rationality's sake.
an unexploded bomb.
a retired miracle.
the doctor told me I'm depressed. in the past, she said, people made art out of it, but now they bury it in pills.
also, my metabolic age is sixteen.
I guess my weltschmerz is just as old.
spring starts to chirp. kurwa.
I'm written out in weekday timetable to keep the remnants of common sense.
I'm glued together for the time being, for the rationality's sake.
an unexploded bomb.
a retired miracle.
the doctor told me I'm depressed. in the past, she said, people made art out of it, but now they bury it in pills.
also, my metabolic age is sixteen.
I guess my weltschmerz is just as old.
spring starts to chirp. kurwa.
2012/03/06
A London Address
And that was a good reason to be on it.
At sea, whatever you are, whatever you really are, will soon begin to show."
http://aroomforlondon.co.uk/a-london-address/feb-2012-jeanette-winterson
2012/03/03
three three is nice
last night in my dreams I was author of a brilliant translation of some wonderful book. a piece of literature that will last.
and the night before, I dreamt of a female vampire, who kept on hunting me.
today I woke up around eight, blissfully rested after my evening hydroxyzine pill. march, sun. my tiny room for 750 PLN/month can hardly bear all the sunlight.
the recording from Karolina Gruszka's house comes to my mind again and again:
there comes the thought that inside me there is no longing which, if satisfied, would let me live any happier;
there comes the thought that if I were to get back, I would make exactly the same decisions, because although I wouldn't like to return to some places I've been in the past, I know the traces they left are most precious;
the thin string of excitement when I think about the future;
no strong euphoria;
no great plans;
no confidence even.
there are still so many books I haven't read yet.
and the night before, I dreamt of a female vampire, who kept on hunting me.
today I woke up around eight, blissfully rested after my evening hydroxyzine pill. march, sun. my tiny room for 750 PLN/month can hardly bear all the sunlight.
the recording from Karolina Gruszka's house comes to my mind again and again:
there comes the thought that inside me there is no longing which, if satisfied, would let me live any happier;
there comes the thought that if I were to get back, I would make exactly the same decisions, because although I wouldn't like to return to some places I've been in the past, I know the traces they left are most precious;
the thin string of excitement when I think about the future;
no strong euphoria;
no great plans;
no confidence even.
there are still so many books I haven't read yet.
2012/03/02
in.somnia
my head is like an empty disco.
with broken glasses on the floor
stench of beer, perfume and sweat
and last echoes of most shitty playlist.
only there was no dancing part.
with broken glasses on the floor
stench of beer, perfume and sweat
and last echoes of most shitty playlist.
only there was no dancing part.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
