I've been watching...

There are not many things in the world that hurt more than the fact that the person you wake up with every morning doesn’t want you, doesn’t admire you, doesn’t find you attractive. It is utterly difficult not to be cuddled back when all you try to do is to gain a little bit of warmth and love.
Tom Perrotta has written a book and Todd Field directed a film – “Little Children”. Sarah is a young, average looking mother and wife. When you look in her eyes you can see the longing. She is missing real life, full of excitement, feelings, truth. What she gets instead is her husband – a man that masturbates thinking about a woman whose name is definitely not Sarah, and a bunch of “friends” who don’t even understand the simplest of emotions. She has nobody to talk or refer to. When she meets Brad, a great looking single father who is apparently trying to pass his bar exams, she falls into a freaked out relationship. Obviously, she does not love him, but the fact that somebody finds her attractive, that somebody wants to touch her and that she can do something other than watching her husband wanking in front of the computer screen – that reassures her, makes her feel like a woman again.
Brad’s married too. He has got a marvellous, loving wife and a great son who looks up to his father. Doesn’t have to and doesn’t really want to work. He’s quite comfy with the life he’s leading. When he crosses paths with Sarah – it’s just one of these things that men do to be able to have memories. He is being a little boy who wants a candy AND a lollipop but aren’t all affair tales the same?
There are other wonderfully shown characters in this so meaningful feature but I have concentrated on Sarah as I think I can empathise with her the most.
Funny thing is, I want to shout at her, to her: hey girl! Do this! Don’t do that! C’mon, you are a great gal, why are you letting people shit on you?! But at the same time, I know that she knows all that. But sometimes you just find yourself in a position where you cannot move. You are stuck and you don’t know how to get out, even if everybody else around you gives you all kinds of advice.
Sometimes there’s just no way in any direction...

I've been observing...

Figurine

This cute, maybe 5 inches tall figurine just came into the college. He looked around, tripped over his shoe and, scared, looked at his mummy... He was quite terrified by the emptiness of the huge building and after he stood up, he just looked amazed. He was looking around, touching stuff, being hardly even able to walk properly... then he had been sat on my desk as his mum had to put his gloves on. He winked to me and said: ‘O!’ - and then: ‘A!’ And smiled. I smiled at him too. Then, realising that his mum was too busy talking to her friend to pay attention, he crawled towards me and hugged my arm. He was still smaller then my arm. He was not afraid. He just wanted to thank me for the smile. He was quickly taken away and his mum apologised to me for him. Hm... Funny, I thought, I can’t see the reason she was saying sorry for. They walked away, leaving me with a feeling of emptiness and lack of something. Lack of pure, crystal clear love and positive emotions towards other human beings. We do not award people with hugs for their smiles. We’re too busy...

I've been calming down...

I finished work early today so I decided to go for a walk, to watch the sea. I am so lucky to be surrounded by this sacred water. I’ve been walking for hours, just staring at the waves hitting the rocks. It gives me so much strength.
I’ve been crying quite a bit recently but sea is my medicine. I gave up smoking recently. Sea is my cigarettes. I’ve been bent. Sea straightens me up.
I have seen some time ago “Walk on Water” (Israel 2004) – they say in there that when you “completely purify yourself” and your heart is “clean from the inside; no negativity, no bad thoughts” – then you can walk on water. I have tried today and failed. But I’m still learning. I’m giving myself a chance.

I've been walking...

So I went on a charity walk. Cause number one: to get monies for the treatment of lymphoedema. Cause number two: to raise awareness of breast cancer. Cause number three: (the selfish one) to get a wee bit fitter. So... I can't move, I moan and groan. And I'd better stay in bed today, massaging my tired legs. It's been a half of the lenght of my lovely island! Like million of miles! And they say it's a small one :) I'm so unbelievably proud of myself!
It was really beautiful. All these ladies, dressed in pink, kilometers of pinkness. And I had a pink T-shirt on and a pink track suit and, trust me, that's not a colour I would normally wear.
Thank you so much to everybody who took part. Great experience!

I've been watching...

Last week, I had a pleasure to meet Al Clarke and Rachel Robey - the producers of a thought provoking picture "London to Brighton". I so admire people like them - people with passion and imagination, people having something to say and saying it out loud.
Here is the link to the official site: http://www.l2b-themovie.co.uk/l2b.html There you can find all the information you need. However, my advice is not to read the synopsis before watching.
The film is a tale about two girls. One of them has seen a lot and the other one has seen much more. (Don't ask me which one is which.) They have a problem. Something has happened and they have to deal with it. Can't tell you how the story goes as you definitely should see the movie yourself.
I’ve been told the film and the subject were controversial. And yes, I agree – but if that’s the case, then we need to admit that life in general is controversial. Because this feature is about life. Life without make up and costumes, life the way it is when something goes wrong and we find ourselves without anybody to help us. On the contrary, when something goes wrong, we are the most vulnerable and there is always somebody who will be happy to use it against us.
Great cast: Lorraine Stanley as Kelly – very convincing as a working girl and not the high standard one; Johnny Harris as Derek – a pimp who is brave only towards the weaker then him; Sam Spruell as Stuart Allen – he gave me serious shivers; and wonderfully perfect Georgia Groome as Joanne – cannot comment on that – she was sooo good (and twelve at the time!). They deserve all the awards they’ll ever get! It’s their performance that makes it so genuine.
The film has received very positive reviews from numerous publications but the one that says it all is from the “Big Issue”. Because if they find it worth seeing – it must be a real deal.

I've been receiving...

"I never spoke with God..." K.N.



I didn't have time to say that Blue Man Group is one of the best shows in the world to see, I didn't have time to say how shit some companies are, I didn't have time to read this awesome book; I didn't have to review Romeo and Juliet play I've seen in the Castle and I didn't have time to reply to my Friend's e-mail. Well, I'm trying.

Listen, Dear Friend, that's the problem with all this time stealing. You cannot steal anybody's time. There's one time and we are all sharing it. And that's all we are supposed to do. There is no point in being too busy to say something important or to reply to your Friend's letter. And if people do - they're shit! (a) I am being depressed b)I am being very drunk).

He said: "It's good that there is a blog to read; good that there is someone to write to; good that there is love that can be experienced; that there is a hand that you can get hold of".

He said that and made me feel silly and pointless...

But hey, isn't it what Friends are for?...

PS. Found it on Jonathan Carroll's website:


THE END OF PARADISE
by Jack Gilbert
When the angels found him sitting in the half lightof his kerosene lamp eating lentils, his eyes widened.But all he said was could he leave a note. The onewearing black looked at the one wearing red who shrugged,so he began writing, desperately. Wadded the messageinto an envelope and wrote ANNA on the front. Quicklybegan another, shoulders hunched, afraid of them.Finished and wrote PIMPAPORN on it. Began a thirdone and the heavy angel growled. "I have Schubert,"the man offered, turning on the tape. The one in blacksaid quietly that at least he didn't say "So soon!"When the ink ran out, the man whimpered and struggledto the table piled with books and drafts. He finishedagain and scrawled SUZANNE across it. The one in redgrowled again and the man said he would put on his shoes.When they took him out into the smell of dry vetchand the ocean, he began to hold back, pleading:"I didn't put the addresses! I don't want them to thinkI forgot." "It doesn't matter," the better angel said,"they have been dead for years."

***

Isn't that exactly what I meant?...

I've been recalling...

MASTURBATION

I have closed my eyes too soon
Only then did I realise
That living beyond the truth
Is not necessarily the option

I’m storming out of the box
Trying to deceive
Trying to forgive
Myself and them
The other them and me
Doesn’t work that way

First time I’ve seen his jaws
Clenched in this awkward position
But tonight last night tomorrow
Different story

The time has passed now
I’ve given birth to new wrinkles
Their sisters scars found my body their home

I pray

Pretending is what I can do best
Buying dreams measured in kilograms
Selling thoughts measured in millilitres
Lying that the skies are blue
And rainbows colourful

There is no faith nor hope
Engineers have altered the mechanism
I used to be quite a nice girl
Now all that is left
A huge pile of shit
And the Snow White
Dancing on my grave

I’ve been feeling...

How have you been? – they ask me. Are you feeling better – they ask me? Why can’t you do this/that? – they ask me. I am getting slightly fed up with the questions. Just for a change, I would not mind to get some answers.
Can anybody define love for me, please? Every year, every month, every day my view of the matter changes. When I was little I thought that the only love that exists is my love to music. I could listen and listen and listen. I still do, of course. Then poetry joined in along with the books. And that’s how it’s been for quite a while. Then there was a Friend. And that was the first human being with bones and flesh and touch. And it was a shocking experience. Love back then was defined by a telephone call at two o’clock in the morning and this three times older than me voice saying: have you been studying? And the hugs. I was fourteen when I was hugged for the first time by someone who didn’t want anything in exchange. And there were wise words. Not in a book, in the song but said to me. Pronounced slowly so I could understand. And that also was when I learnt that nothing lasts forever. Because the Angel went Home. And took my wings (the same ones that he presented to me earlier) with him. The only thing I had left were scars. That was when I was thinking a lot about: “Is it better to love and lost or never find out what love means?”. Now I know. Back then – I didn’t. I decided never to love again and became a stone. Or a veg rather. Till I was walking down the street in my town and suddenly saw these eyes staring at me. And that was my first time when I found out about the Adult Love. Adult Love was defined by a gold ring and wedding bells and by the divorce. And it turned out I was not an adult at all. He was. He could be my grandpa if he wanted. But I did not want a grandpa. I wanted his blue eyes and a cheeky smile. And I wanted him to be my teacher, not a traitor. So I ran away. I used to do it quite often so that wasn’t anything new. Now... Now love is defined by not knowing. There is somebody by my side. Not knowing is a part of existence, I guess. Love is part of relationship. I guess. Relationship is... Cooking, washing up, going to work, cuddling, kissing, having sex. If that so, why am I jealous if I hear him whispering this girl’s name while he's asleep? Funny thing – I can see his dreams, whether I want it or not. In these dreams, in the future – that’s not me he is seeing. That’s what defines not knowing. So here I am again, on some kind of crossroad, wondering what the best thing to do would be. I don’t want to go anywhere. But I will, if that’s what it requires.
My Mummy writes the most beautiful lyrics in the world and her latest album is sacred. Full stop. I love her. Yes, that is Love. There you go...

I've been travelling...

Just came back from London and have a whole load of things to say about that - enough for next fifteen posts. But... I'm still not finding time to breathe. I don't understand how the time can control us in such an easy and unlawful way. And we can't do anything to control it.

I’ve been panicking...

I’m having difficulty breathing. Trying to count but just can’t get the numbers in order. Tears are falling down on the ground without my knowledge nor agreement. Can’t control it.
When I was a wee bit younger, I had this huge poster on my wall, saying: “Hold your breath and count to ten, fall apart and start again.” And that’s what I’ve been doing. Holding. Counting. Falling. Starting. All the time, over and over again. But now numbers don’t make sense. They simply don’t add up. I’m confused. I’m scared. Scared to be, scared to think, scared to start again. Don’t know if I can cope, don’t know how to cope.
Sometimes (most of the time), I wish I were normal, looked like anybody else, was able to go to the beach and sunbathe in a sun. And I pray to the invisible gods every second of my life. Every other second I explain myself that I can’t help the state of things. Nobody can. But I still pray.
I haven’t packed my bags for a very long time. Extremely long. Before here and now, I would change the country of residence every three months. Since I was twelve. Now I’m here and now. And that makes me panic. I’m just not used to...

I've been looking...

http://www.chrisjordan.com/current_set2.php?id=7

Just have a look... What are we doing?...

I've been browsing...

I’m not sure if that’s a miraculously great thing or a really evil one but thanks to the civilisation we can find almost anybody anywhere, providing that they would like to be found. It’s a kind of a popularity contest: the more results your name gets on google – the more you achieved in your life; the wiser, more beautiful and wonderful you are – you are popular because you have written a book, directed a play, won some kind of a reality show competition, presented your naked pictures to the world, etc.
I decided to look for my school friends, to see how they are doing, what they are up to, what they look like now, if they are married – all the usual gossip. The funny thing was that I couldn’t find the people I really liked and used to hang around with. On the opposite side, all those whom I couldn’t stand were everywhere – their pictures, faces, names,… I couldn’t stand them before because they were so loud and screamy – you know, the kind that will come in to the classroom and will die if there’s at least one person who has not noticed them. The kind that will kill to get on the top, whose noses are brown due to kissing every single ass on their way up. Nothing has changed. I’m still sitting in a dark, cheap café, reading an awesome book, in my old jumper and shitty shoes, waiting for a friend to come and discuss Pluto’s caves. And they are still busy making sure that we (“the losers”) know about them and that we will get even more jealous that we (obviously) have been throughout our lives. Cheers to them! To the good old friends!

I've been wishing...