Cat MacKenzie's dead!

I watch the lift in the building across the street going up and down.
no romanticism or reverie here.
this really is the height of my mental abilities these days.

I'm wondering whether watching "Lip Service" is an effect or the very reason of this state of mind.

shortcuts

some lazy, tired or discouraged part of me would just like to hit Ctrl+F or use the Google search engine to find at last
the way
the method
the formula
for dissolving what makes me so uneasy, so dejected.
only to set myself free. finally.

warmth protection

it made me think of how I actually enjoy life
its general idea really appeals to me
its structure suits me well, so does the precision of coincidence, its basic law

but it's been a bit too cold and too dark
and scary

quietly and slowly

I read Świetlicki and I cry

"...he's ashamed of the way
he's waiting, of not knowing how to wait, of waiting like a child

for Christmas, of waiting for a woman
who will come, she'll come for sure, everything will take place
like it always does, only with some minor
surprises, as these too always

occur..."

Montserrat Figueras

there's a single seat in the fourth row and it's MINE.

my brain just refuses to figure out how come if there's a fine play at one of the city's best theaters and it's for PLN 15 [Lord, it's USD 4,70! only 4 EUR! nations of the world's currencies, do you get it?!], there is no one, not even one person among my well-educated sharp fellow students who feels like going.
but every weekend, there is a massive rush towards pubs and clubs and it is enough for me to show the slightest readiness to cooperate in the process of swilling down hectoliters of beer to be immediately flooded with detailed plans for Saturday night.
and PLN 15 isn't even enough to cover the entry to the club.

we all get it.

tonight proved so very disappointing.
when my efforts end with disappointment, it feels like the world has tricked on me.

at least Shortbus turned out to be a fine movie.

silence

I notice your absence in a way I do not have a right to, I know. I think about you with kindness that I'm ashamed of; with admiration I disguise as neutrality. I am proud of you like a madwoman cherishing a child that's not hers.
I'm scared.
I send you good energy and then I step back; don't think it means anything, don't think that I
don't you worry.
I won't tell anybody.

Świetlicki: "the end of the world is a moveable feast"

there is always something final about it; something irrevocable and definitive.
some weight which, as it seems, nothing can possibly exceed.
a seal, a lock in the door, and so it has come.

but the streetcars keep on running. the moustached man begins yet another day with a cigarette.
you have to go to see the doctor, to the post office and the project schedule needs to be planned.
life draws itself up in three-dimensional sketches without anybody asking you for permission.

then, in the dead of winter, there's vodka, firework display and the last number in the date rolls over with a bump.

the end of the world fades away, gets outdated and obsolete.

finally, you take it to the garbage can, along with old newspapers and shoes that aren't worth fixing any more.

bitterness goes flat.
again
you're nothing but foolish
anticipation.

blurred

the solitude I endure
is not humane
emptiness does not have the shape of another body
impressed in bedlinen
my moves are not observed
described
named

I can put so much content into this space
like in the black hole
all will be lost

opposite me
no one
that is
opposite me
precipice
this is the destination of my existence
for myself

today I saw a person who was beautiful
and bald
don't know whether it was a man or a woman
the impression came back to me in a wave
like an insult for
the solitude I endure

she said, irgendwann kommt die Sonne wieder, das ist meine Medizin.

snow yet again
a skein of birds approaching from the west
I'd rather you didn't speak to me at all
turn to me at all
than keep up those bitter empty pretense of bonds

I miss the sincere hearts
that I so hoped for