I've been swearing...

Motherfucking son of a bitch!!! Fucking asshole made me hate again!!! ARGH!!!!! Piece of shit. Trash. And let's just forget...

I've been reading...

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I've been drinking...

Socrates rules!

I've been watching...

OK. If I was being seen by a psychiatrist right now, they would say: that’s it. That’s it. It is completely normal to go through phases. In my case it was: first- denial. Then denial. Then another denial. And some more denial. Then hurt feelings. Then fear. Then anger. Huge anger and loads of it. Then more fear. Then loads of tears. Some more anger. Some more fear. Hatred. Ignorance. Whateverness. Recalling past. And some others. Now, that’s it. Now the normality came. My treatment has been accomplished. I have loads of positive energy in me and a big smile on my face. And this time, it’s for real!
I have seen a great movie! Maria Magenti’s “Puccini for Beginners”. It’s about every single one of us. In a way. Well, if you keep reading this blog, than it is about you too :) Love is funny when you look at all these “huge” problems from outside. Of course, they are huge. But sometimes it’s worth to sit down in front of the mirror and just say: “you silly moo. And what
are you worried about?!"

I've been recalling...

I've been watching...

“How do you learn to love again when the pain of the past won’t let you go...?” (from the “Little Fish” website)

You don’t. There is no love for those who have been through the real pain and real suffering. You can never be born again, even though you believe that one day you would be.
Rowan Woods and Jacqueline Perske made a beautiful film about trying, dreaming, hoping. Cate Blanchett played so amazingly that just by looking at her I had shivers and my stomach was turning inside out. In whatever way.
There’s this feeling in all of us sometimes – that everybody around is lying, that trust is worth less that nothing, that every single one of us is the most selfish creature ever existed. But then we shake this feeling off and try to live. Try to carry on existing. I don’t believe that I would be ever able to shake this feeling off...
Enough.

I've been smiling...

I've been reading...

"Disgrace" by Carol Ann Duffy

But one day we woke to our disgrace; our house

a coldness of rooms, each nursing

a thickening cyst of dust and gloom.

We had not been home in our hearts for months.

And how our words changed. Dead flies in a web.

How they stiffened and blackened. Cherished italics

suddenly sour on our tongues, obscenities

spraying themselves on the wall in my head.

Woke to your clothes like a corpse on the floor,

the small deaths of lightbulbs pining all day

in my ears, their echoes audible tears;

nothing we would not do to make it worse

and worse. Into the night with the wrong language,

waving and pointing, the shadows of hands

huge in the bedroom. Dreamed of a naked crawl

from a dead place over the other; both of us. Woke.

Woke to an absence of grace; the still-life

of a meal, untouched, wine-bottle, empty, ashtray,

full. In our sullen kitchen, the fridge

hardened its cool heart, selfish as art, hummed.

To a bowl of apples rotten to the core. Lame shoes

empty in the hall where our voices asked

for a message after the tone, the telephone

pressing its ear to distant, invisible lips.

And our garden bowing its head, vulnerable flowers

unseen in the dusk as we shouted in silhouette.

Woke to the screaming alarm, the banging door,

the house-plants trembling in their brittle soil. Total

Disgrace. Up in the dark to stand at the window,

counting the years to arrive there, faithless,

unpenitent. Woke to the meaningless stars, you

and me both, lost. Inconsolable vowels from the next room.

I’ve been remembering...

(I promised to say ‘hello’ to somebody: ‘hi Anne! Hope you are having a good time :)’ )

“You’re always ahead of the game
I drag behind
You never get caught in the rain
When I’m drenched to the bone every time”
Brian Molko

For some reason, I have been thinking about my ex-best-friend today. We met each other about ten years ago and became best pals two years later. You know, the kind of Friend that is supposedly forever. I thought she was the only person in my life that, no matter what, always stuck up for me, was always there and always... “Always” seems to be an overused word. I would do anything for this girl; I would jump off the cliff if she’d wanted me to. And expected her to love me equally. We would have the best of times together, spending nights drinking cheap wine in the park, pulling random blokes, dancing to cheesy dance music in the pinkest and most wonderful gay club in the world in our black jumpers and grinders, having never-ending conversations about life, writing and reading poetry, falling in and out of love with all the wrong people, rescuing each other from shit over and over again... This list can go on and on and on... I loved her as I have never ever loved anybody else and I would never be able to love anybody in the same way. I could trust her entirely, and she knew she could trust me...
And then I left my home country (long before the rest of the nation left!!). She stayed. I had to start being an adult. She was free to carry on with the life I use to lead. Lovely, colourful, eventful, poetic life. I had to step down and earn money, started building a family; your normal boring life. I have changed. She stayed the way we used to be. I think the word that describes it the best is ‘young’.
We still talked on the phone and wrote letters. One year I went to visit her. I realised something. I used to be addicted to her. She was my “boss” and I clung to her because I was scared she’d leave me. In our relationship, everything was about her. I was being dragged behind. But I grew up. And I learnt how to live on my own. And then we met again. And she didn’t like it. We were pass arguing. Beyond understanding. In one second everything was lost. She is proud, I am stubborn. We will never be friends again.
If somebody had said to me five years ago that that’s how we were going to end up, I would have laughed in their face and tell them to never say stupid things like that.
Looks like stupid things happen.
I have never talked to anybody about what has really happened and what was the true reason to my decision of ending this toxic relationship. She has. I have heard a lot of things about me that can hurt more than an android falling on your head. Makes me cry in a silent, non-believing kind of way. When you can’t understand, can’t do anything, “can’t move a muscle or a cell”...
So... These things happen to good people too then? Heh...

Hey P., if you ever come across this note, listen to this song, please:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nS0W99z2kfI&mode=related&search=

I’m medicated, how are you?...

I've been giving up...

Staring at the blank screen, not knowing if it’s just a screen or if the whole world has just gone blank. Giving up is damn easy. Trying is bloody hard. So I’ve heard.
My mind is preoccupied with trying to give up. The situation is a lot like with the cigarettes – I gave up some time ago (quite recently but I’m not one of those who put a big red cross in the diary marking the date so not sure when it was) and I’m doing quite well. Ok, there have been some occassions when I had thoughts about having one but they went away when I explained them patiently to leave me alone. There also have been moments (at the very beginning) that I had a little drag. It tasted really disgusting. Lack of nicotine? I’m quite happy I’m lacking it as I can breathe again and walk faster than a turtle without gasping for air. Missing one after food? Well, this one IS a problem but I’m getting used to it. And the longer I do it for, the easier it gets and I’m starting to actually taste food! And my teeth are becoming less brown! And my clothes don’t stink and people don’t move away while talking to me! I know those who get really stressed after quitting. As if the little white stick with some shit inside had some relaxing qualities. They make me laugh. At least if it was herb that DOES have relaxing qualities – oh, smoke away please – I don’t mind people chilling and being happy! But cigarettes?! What do they make you do? Cough? Be tired? Have headaches? So, all these people who are so extremely upset after giving up – they have not given up at all. They lost with the stupid cigarette AND, most of all, with themselves.
Coming back to the “situation”. So now I’m “a smoker”. Poisoning myself and letting “the cigarette” slowly but surely kill me. And it’s killing me with pleasure. It’s making me believe that it is my decision/fault that I’m inhaling the smoke, that I have no choice, that I will never be able to give up and that there is no other options nor chances for me.
I have managed to give up smoking. I really have.

I've been laughing...

Three pairs of blindingly white eyeballs. Three bald blue heads. Three aliens coming from… well, not really sure where they were coming from – very distant planet. Planet without pointless pop culture (culture?!), without brainless use of the media, without global warming.
Blue Man Group ARE wonderful – whatever people say. First of all, they are trying to say something important, being/becoming at the same time, ironically, a part of our sparkly pop world. They are extremely likeable and talented and that makes it so much easier to listen to the message they’ve got to “transmit”.
The show is awesome! I have not laughed so much for a long time. I got tickets as an anniversary present for my man and wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought it would be ok, but I had not foreseen the amount of fun I had! It felt like being a child all over again. (By the way, I think that’s how they get the bad reviews – people who write them are too serious and too afraid to chill, to be innocent and to let go). I allowed the performers to take over my attitude and went with the flow (at some points – quite literally).
Music was beautiful, I loved the pipes and the colours and the paper… I would definitely go again. (If it wasn’t a mission to get to London – small detail)

In the meantime, I’ve been reading my new Idol – Kapuscinski. It is such a shame I discovered him so late...
He was a traveller and a real one. I wish all the reporters learnt from him. I definitely recommend “My Travels with Herodot” – magical piece of writing!