Am I finally awake or have I finally fallen asleep?
I can’t be.You fall asleep, I always feel I fall awake. Hours and hours and endless minutes until I finally hit the bed. I always wake up landing and jump out of bed into a canyon. And no, I’m not a road runner. I prefer walking, there’s a rhythm and always a ballad in walking. This way you can never miss the scenery. So I walk. But towards the end I seem to forever end up running, and I trip on you and fall. Then I get up and walk again. But for how long?
Have you ever wondered if what you remember was a dream or indeed happened? I do. Is it because my dreams are life-like or my life dream-like? The trouble is you’re in both, and you’re the same, not flawless, not even a bit distorted, a bit better, a bit wiser, a bit more patient. You see, my delusional mind senses that it needn’t change you. That’s what scares me, that’s the only reason I call them nightmares.
Only I don’t have nightmares, I have day mares. I guess. I keep telling myself that if I’m in the daylight I must be awake, but in the dark I feel more alive. I love coming home in the evening to an empty house and strolling in the dark, lying on the carpet staring at rays of flickering light roaming in, misplacing things so I can someday smile finding them, contemplate them, finally finally have them and appreciate them.
Where did I put you again?
vineri, 4 aprilie 2008
miercuri, 13 februarie 2008
And the dog answered: « What is the point of it all? »
Light hits the window; it escapes the curtains and creeps, making its way on the pillow.
The aftertaste, the morning after, the motivation, the longing, the senselessness, the restlessness, the angst, the compromise, the independent soul, but the dependent heart boiling inside start creeping out into the light. The skin trembles with convulsions, the mind bows under compulsion.
The rays play a soothing game, caressing the sheets.
Contradiction until the peak of absurdity, until purpose is lost, until meaning is lost and desire rules. Where indifference ends, the pathological begins. One rests on a thin line of obliviousness until a pale whiff determines the fall into the abyss. The endlessness, the superiority, the complexity and the vastity overwhelm. The abyss of knowledge, that does not end, that cannot be fully attained swallows one. The belly of the abyss is fragile, it cannot swallow too many, yet it needs to be fed. Bolting towards the end in need of a conclusion, running away from inexistence towards the unknown, into inexistence, one falls constantly. He fails to feel the fall as he fails to feel the movement of the earth. Subtlety is the tool of time, and through time we all fall. Time rules us; we cannot be entirely free for time and nature rule us. We can only control the degree of control. Will you live your life, or will your life live you? Will you use your time, or will it use you? Will you scratch each others backs? Will you loathe him in secret, for he makes up your limits? Limitation frustrates, limitation angers, but limitation creates. This it does surely, and credit must be given. Freedom creates but its creation is chaotic, ludic, erratic, promiscuous, while limitation filters, limitation gives creation order, purpose, regularity and neatness. Limitation proves to be a tool in some cases, thus breaking loose from stigmatization. Limits are needed because excess causes the loss of power of effect, like a song you’ve listened to a thousand times and which now fails to chime your perception. Excess causes disgust, the 10th meatball you feel will kill you. Excess causes absurdity and the loss of credibility, like in the case of paranoia. Still, excess is popular; limitation is so out of season.
Light bathes the maroon room. A body looks marooned on a large crimson bed.
My compulsion, beyond you my dear, is to wander. I have not known many limitations and this resulted in a complete inarticulate and confused, curious manner. Much like a jam session; liberty and improvisation feed off each other. But none bring productivity, efficiency. Discipline creates on the long term orderliness but also stiffness. I have rarely wished for this, but have often needed it. My dance is ruleless, it cannot be labeled, it is original, yet worthless, for it cannot be recreated. Its value is not quantifiable. But you, darling, you say you love my dance and you tell me your stories, and, for now, that is reason enough to bare paradoxes and time, and even deadlines.
The radio goes off, breaking the stillness of the room. Silence clears off and a dog raises his head from beneath the bed.
I have wandered enough and I always fear you’re getting tired. I rise and you’re already gone. Your slumber is fragile and you make no noise when you dream. But your calm makes me anxious. I fight in my dreams, I run, I yell, I speak and I’m exhausted when I wake. But soon enough I want to race the day, the night, the world. Your intensity is rather like suspense, whilst I burn and shiver in the open, I explode. I can’t stand going to bed early, and I can’t stand waking up to an empty flat. But I like the way our feet touch when I wake up at night.
A bark. The silhouette rises and stretches. She bows towards the dog.
Is your time ever enough?
Katie Melua - If you were a sailboat
The aftertaste, the morning after, the motivation, the longing, the senselessness, the restlessness, the angst, the compromise, the independent soul, but the dependent heart boiling inside start creeping out into the light. The skin trembles with convulsions, the mind bows under compulsion.
The rays play a soothing game, caressing the sheets.
Contradiction until the peak of absurdity, until purpose is lost, until meaning is lost and desire rules. Where indifference ends, the pathological begins. One rests on a thin line of obliviousness until a pale whiff determines the fall into the abyss. The endlessness, the superiority, the complexity and the vastity overwhelm. The abyss of knowledge, that does not end, that cannot be fully attained swallows one. The belly of the abyss is fragile, it cannot swallow too many, yet it needs to be fed. Bolting towards the end in need of a conclusion, running away from inexistence towards the unknown, into inexistence, one falls constantly. He fails to feel the fall as he fails to feel the movement of the earth. Subtlety is the tool of time, and through time we all fall. Time rules us; we cannot be entirely free for time and nature rule us. We can only control the degree of control. Will you live your life, or will your life live you? Will you use your time, or will it use you? Will you scratch each others backs? Will you loathe him in secret, for he makes up your limits? Limitation frustrates, limitation angers, but limitation creates. This it does surely, and credit must be given. Freedom creates but its creation is chaotic, ludic, erratic, promiscuous, while limitation filters, limitation gives creation order, purpose, regularity and neatness. Limitation proves to be a tool in some cases, thus breaking loose from stigmatization. Limits are needed because excess causes the loss of power of effect, like a song you’ve listened to a thousand times and which now fails to chime your perception. Excess causes disgust, the 10th meatball you feel will kill you. Excess causes absurdity and the loss of credibility, like in the case of paranoia. Still, excess is popular; limitation is so out of season.
Light bathes the maroon room. A body looks marooned on a large crimson bed.
My compulsion, beyond you my dear, is to wander. I have not known many limitations and this resulted in a complete inarticulate and confused, curious manner. Much like a jam session; liberty and improvisation feed off each other. But none bring productivity, efficiency. Discipline creates on the long term orderliness but also stiffness. I have rarely wished for this, but have often needed it. My dance is ruleless, it cannot be labeled, it is original, yet worthless, for it cannot be recreated. Its value is not quantifiable. But you, darling, you say you love my dance and you tell me your stories, and, for now, that is reason enough to bare paradoxes and time, and even deadlines.
The radio goes off, breaking the stillness of the room. Silence clears off and a dog raises his head from beneath the bed.
I have wandered enough and I always fear you’re getting tired. I rise and you’re already gone. Your slumber is fragile and you make no noise when you dream. But your calm makes me anxious. I fight in my dreams, I run, I yell, I speak and I’m exhausted when I wake. But soon enough I want to race the day, the night, the world. Your intensity is rather like suspense, whilst I burn and shiver in the open, I explode. I can’t stand going to bed early, and I can’t stand waking up to an empty flat. But I like the way our feet touch when I wake up at night.
A bark. The silhouette rises and stretches. She bows towards the dog.
Is your time ever enough?
Katie Melua - If you were a sailboat
luni, 24 decembrie 2007
lundi matin. 5 minutes encore, je t'en prie.
Fi atent.ne urcam in masina si eu pornesc in tromba.nu mai fi mirat.intra in joc.gandeste-te ca tocmai am jefuit o banca, am aruncat cadavrul in rau, io stiu, ce mai vezi prin filmele alea multe la care te uiti.da stiu ca tu te uiti numai la filme inteligente.ramane intre noi ca te uiti in fiecare an la singur acasa 2.am 120 la ora.spune-mi unde merg.nu, nu incetinesc.pe strada asta?asta?asta?se termina, spune-mi mai repede unde mergem.
Eu am controlul aici si aleg sa ti-l incredintez in totalitate tie.stii ce, daca nu-ti convine fa-ti si tu o masina de vise, si o sa poti sa mergi cu ea incet, pe stradute si putem sa tragem pe dreapta sa ne gandim.a mea nu opreste decat la destinatie asa ca think of one fast!
Mergem la mare? De acord.Acum sau asta vara? Cum nu ti-am spus? Cu masina mea mergem oriunde si oricand.something old? Something new? Something borrowed, something blue? Vezi ca daca mergem asta vara tre sa ne intoarcem de dimineata, daca mergem acum ne intoarcem la anu! Ce zici?zi mai repede!si razi!
asa.pai, buna.
nu ma pricep la inceputuri.
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