Well, first of all, I didn't suck his one eyed monster. nope. although I could have, I mean we slept in his car, it could have been all very good.
so fuck fuck: what sucks today is:
-I MISSED MY REGISTRATIONS APPOINTMENT YESTERDAY. read: i can't choose the privat teacher i want, i can't choose the electives I want. And i stood in line to get this date like at 6 AM. in the freezing californian cold. THAT SUCKS.
-I was horny like fuck. yeah, pun intended. sorry for being so direct. that's the German in me. And I suppose he was up for something too, but we had to go and do HOMEWORK. what the freaking eff! we wound up sitting at the cafeteria listening to Franco preaching to us about his religion 'holy pussy'. it was funny like hell but a waste of time, if you ask me. I mean I HAVE A PUSSY. why talk about it, when......you know...ahm, what I mean?
-I told my sister I would do the homeschool thing for another month and see how it works. I am AFRAID. that it won't work out. but, hey, i have time to worry about that later. but it DOES suck.
-I have to look for a room and THAT SUCKS. yeah.
-I have to apply NOW for colleges. WHEN? aaaaaaaaah!
-the Oscars are coming up. THAT SUCKS.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Monday, February 27, 2006
secret victory. victoria secrets?
oh, thats just a wordplay. the victory was secret but overwhelming.
the battlefield: inside myself.
what, tell me, what is sweeter than a victory that your antagonist doesn't know about? you let them belief that they won but they just didn't realize that the battle was fought somewhere else and on a different level and that you just, ahm, yeah, you fucking WON! you fucked their intentions! ah, sweet sweet making love to fucking intentions fuck fuck! hahaha.
you hear that laughter? the laughter of a nasty, SCHADENFROH, beast. the laughter of a relieved and relaxed worrier. not warrior, worrier, you read right. the laughter of the winner who was widely believed not to be capable of winning at all. beyond reason. that is ME.
the victory?
I DID NOT LET HER MANIPULATE ME ANYMORE. simple as that. i went through the raven valley of depression, of self doubts and hatred, of feeling like a loser and loosing control over my inner balance and insight. of everything. and then i came back, in the rain, and confronted you, a little sugar and you talked, no news really, but the good news was: despite what you said, you didn't bring me down anymore. that is gone.
oh, and in case you read that: you think wrong. i don't hate you. i love you more than you will ever know but there are things you will never understand and there is matter of factly not the need for you to do so. you will go on and I will go on but both we have to stay sisters and maybe one day we will realize that blood does or doesn't create bonds beyond petty hick hacks and blame games.
ah, well, how do we say in German 'once the reputation is spoiled you can do whatever you want'.
I care. I do. But not like it is stated in your fixed universe. so fuck me or fuck you, I won't fight back like you maybe want me to.
the best weapon is the unexpected one. the best weapon is to fight yourself. and when you win this fight nobody can harm you
anymore
the battlefield: inside myself.
what, tell me, what is sweeter than a victory that your antagonist doesn't know about? you let them belief that they won but they just didn't realize that the battle was fought somewhere else and on a different level and that you just, ahm, yeah, you fucking WON! you fucked their intentions! ah, sweet sweet making love to fucking intentions fuck fuck! hahaha.
you hear that laughter? the laughter of a nasty, SCHADENFROH, beast. the laughter of a relieved and relaxed worrier. not warrior, worrier, you read right. the laughter of the winner who was widely believed not to be capable of winning at all. beyond reason. that is ME.
the victory?
I DID NOT LET HER MANIPULATE ME ANYMORE. simple as that. i went through the raven valley of depression, of self doubts and hatred, of feeling like a loser and loosing control over my inner balance and insight. of everything. and then i came back, in the rain, and confronted you, a little sugar and you talked, no news really, but the good news was: despite what you said, you didn't bring me down anymore. that is gone.
oh, and in case you read that: you think wrong. i don't hate you. i love you more than you will ever know but there are things you will never understand and there is matter of factly not the need for you to do so. you will go on and I will go on but both we have to stay sisters and maybe one day we will realize that blood does or doesn't create bonds beyond petty hick hacks and blame games.
ah, well, how do we say in German 'once the reputation is spoiled you can do whatever you want'.
I care. I do. But not like it is stated in your fixed universe. so fuck me or fuck you, I won't fight back like you maybe want me to.
the best weapon is the unexpected one. the best weapon is to fight yourself. and when you win this fight nobody can harm you
anymore
Sunday, February 26, 2006
'i wanna love you and treat you right...'
'All I want is to make you happy'
Having said this. Tell me, tell me, how do you want to make me happy?
I tell you something (*giggles* - whenever I say 'I tell you something' he says: 'oh oh, I am getting in trouble!!!' lol)
it's like saying 'please cum with me'. It puts a pressure on me. And of course I am not cumming then.... I am fucking depressed right now. I can't help it. I try not to let it out when I am around people and then you ask me why I am only depressed around you. Because you are my boyfriend, my lover, because I can be more myself around you than around them. That's kinda sad, huh?
It's a vicious circle. It frustrates you, makes you afraid that I'd leave without you, makes you feel bad, like you hold me back from being and doing stuff that d make me happy, makes you lessen the efforts to please me, make me happy. 'Because it's never enough, you won't ever be happy'
I sit back, think of my mother, how she never was truly happy. Is it that? Is it something bullshitty like that? A repetition of a pattern that I've seen all life long? Every day?
What makes people happy? When they are treated right, like Bob Marley sings in his song 'Is this love'. When they are loved, when they are centered, themselves, when they are at the right place at the right time.
However, if you demand that I am happy with anything you give me, or for that matter not give me, you basically demand me to be happy with the way you want me to be happy. I am happy when I can look at little amazing flowers with amazing colours. Haven't you noticed by now? You never bring me little flowers just for the heck of it.
Then I sit back and think 'man, maybe I demand too much. Maybe my standards are insanly high. Maybe i just should be humble and happy'. Well, that would be a good buddhist thing to be, right? And guess what, actually I'd be like that, but there is something that tells me that this little princess inside of me deserves a better treatment. But man, I love you so much for some freaking reason. Your breath on my belly makes me go insane. Your eyes filled with your dear soul make me fall all over in love with you. Your sweet way of being when we are relaxed together, your ways of making me love, the unnameable, that makes me love you so much. The memories of K___ doing all the things that I miss now with you make me sick.
You never bring oil and say 'you need a massage piranha'. As a surprise. I understand why: you have too many things to worry about yourself. Your body hurts more than mine. I should be the strong one, because I can be. See, I understand that, but still....you say, you gonna be more of a gentleman but I open all the doors by myself. There is this undeniable need inside of me that wants to be fulfilled: treat me like the queen I am and don't put me down for feeling that way! A woman deserved to be treated in the best way possible. I know that. Nobody can tell me that I am demanding too much. Do we have to lower our standards just because? I mean, the world would be immediately a better place, if we put more effort into our daily lifes.
I understand you are tired and barely able to keep yourself together. But then don't demand that I should be happy just because. I am at the wrong place with the right person. I apologize for being so dependend still on outer circumstances. I strive to find the balance within me. And that's exactly the point! I can only find it within me and you can't really help with that. That's my part of the way. We'll meet in the middle. All you need is me to be happy. I need a lot more. I need the right surroundings to be happy. I need this and that and lalala, and one day, I promise, I'll strip all down to my inner balance that I can maintain by myself. But until then -
I DON'T FAKE!
Having said this. Tell me, tell me, how do you want to make me happy?
I tell you something (*giggles* - whenever I say 'I tell you something' he says: 'oh oh, I am getting in trouble!!!' lol)
it's like saying 'please cum with me'. It puts a pressure on me. And of course I am not cumming then.... I am fucking depressed right now. I can't help it. I try not to let it out when I am around people and then you ask me why I am only depressed around you. Because you are my boyfriend, my lover, because I can be more myself around you than around them. That's kinda sad, huh?
It's a vicious circle. It frustrates you, makes you afraid that I'd leave without you, makes you feel bad, like you hold me back from being and doing stuff that d make me happy, makes you lessen the efforts to please me, make me happy. 'Because it's never enough, you won't ever be happy'
I sit back, think of my mother, how she never was truly happy. Is it that? Is it something bullshitty like that? A repetition of a pattern that I've seen all life long? Every day?
What makes people happy? When they are treated right, like Bob Marley sings in his song 'Is this love'. When they are loved, when they are centered, themselves, when they are at the right place at the right time.
However, if you demand that I am happy with anything you give me, or for that matter not give me, you basically demand me to be happy with the way you want me to be happy. I am happy when I can look at little amazing flowers with amazing colours. Haven't you noticed by now? You never bring me little flowers just for the heck of it.
Then I sit back and think 'man, maybe I demand too much. Maybe my standards are insanly high. Maybe i just should be humble and happy'. Well, that would be a good buddhist thing to be, right? And guess what, actually I'd be like that, but there is something that tells me that this little princess inside of me deserves a better treatment. But man, I love you so much for some freaking reason. Your breath on my belly makes me go insane. Your eyes filled with your dear soul make me fall all over in love with you. Your sweet way of being when we are relaxed together, your ways of making me love, the unnameable, that makes me love you so much. The memories of K___ doing all the things that I miss now with you make me sick.
You never bring oil and say 'you need a massage piranha'. As a surprise. I understand why: you have too many things to worry about yourself. Your body hurts more than mine. I should be the strong one, because I can be. See, I understand that, but still....you say, you gonna be more of a gentleman but I open all the doors by myself. There is this undeniable need inside of me that wants to be fulfilled: treat me like the queen I am and don't put me down for feeling that way! A woman deserved to be treated in the best way possible. I know that. Nobody can tell me that I am demanding too much. Do we have to lower our standards just because? I mean, the world would be immediately a better place, if we put more effort into our daily lifes.
I understand you are tired and barely able to keep yourself together. But then don't demand that I should be happy just because. I am at the wrong place with the right person. I apologize for being so dependend still on outer circumstances. I strive to find the balance within me. And that's exactly the point! I can only find it within me and you can't really help with that. That's my part of the way. We'll meet in the middle. All you need is me to be happy. I need a lot more. I need the right surroundings to be happy. I need this and that and lalala, and one day, I promise, I'll strip all down to my inner balance that I can maintain by myself. But until then -
I DON'T FAKE!
whiny bitch
well there is only one thing i can't stand, piranha, he said.
what's that??
that you always compare Europe with America, you rub it in the face of the people, that makes you really appear arrogant, you know? I've never heard you saying how gorgeous Berlin is, period. You always have to compare it. It get's on my nerves. You know thats one thing about Europeans, they are all so fucking arrogant. They come here and talk the whole time about how much better it is over there. What the fuck? I mean, thats like telling a person without arms how gorgeous it would be for him if he could only play basketball. You get the point? I hate it here, too! I fucking hate it! I don't want to be here, but a lot of people, including me right now, can't get away. So, what's your point? making them feel bad? please....
I look at him. Man, yes, I don't really want to be a whiny arrogant bitch who makes others feel inferior, disadvantaged, bad...- if you know what I mean. Who would want to??? The question is maybe rather, who would care to... But I admit, I talk a lot about these things, but then again, I can't talk about pop culture really without embarrassing myself because of my lacking knowledge of names, dates and according bits of entertainment, art or whatever. And pop culture is like, the main thing I hear people talk about, at least at my school, naturally....... - Talking about spiritual things, about basic opinions, won't have me compare Europe and America too much darling. It's just, these everyday things, i can't help it. For example, this so called chocolate croissant here, in front of me. GARBAGE! In any shitty store in Berlin I would find better stuff. Denny's, your beloved Denny's for example. I understand that you love it because you love shrimpp and it's cheap and you have tons of memories connected to Denny's, like being high as a kite and fulfilling the craving for food and what not, but, seriously, I. DO. NOT. LIKE. IT.
Then you say no matter what, you can't make me happy anyways, it's never enough.
Ah.
That sucks, honestly. I hate the plastic plate they gave me with the croissant. I hate this ignorance. All that. Aah. Maybe I am just homesick like fuck and this is the result. I hate the clinic sterile atmosphere in this freaking cafe. No coziness. Oh god, I am really not really happy here. I could never live here. Yesterday night when we went out with your italian friend/teacher, you got so mad because we were revelling in the beauty of Europe and Italy and all that.
Maybe you are afraid to lose me to Europe. But you could come along. Maybe you would understand me, if you went there and came back.
The point is, if an American would come to Europe and complain about shit everybody would nodd understandingly: he is homesick. But NOBODY would get fucking offended or think he is arrogant. They would think he is ignorant hahaha. In their arrogance they would think 'poor American, we were right, they are complete idiots!' Maybe I am too attached to my cultural background, maybe I am too unflexible to embrace another culture. But matter of factly, I embraced enthusiastically the Russian culture, I will freak out in South America and Africa, I know that already. But there is nothing here, that can freak me out in a good way.
Except for you honey.
what's that??
that you always compare Europe with America, you rub it in the face of the people, that makes you really appear arrogant, you know? I've never heard you saying how gorgeous Berlin is, period. You always have to compare it. It get's on my nerves. You know thats one thing about Europeans, they are all so fucking arrogant. They come here and talk the whole time about how much better it is over there. What the fuck? I mean, thats like telling a person without arms how gorgeous it would be for him if he could only play basketball. You get the point? I hate it here, too! I fucking hate it! I don't want to be here, but a lot of people, including me right now, can't get away. So, what's your point? making them feel bad? please....
I look at him. Man, yes, I don't really want to be a whiny arrogant bitch who makes others feel inferior, disadvantaged, bad...- if you know what I mean. Who would want to??? The question is maybe rather, who would care to... But I admit, I talk a lot about these things, but then again, I can't talk about pop culture really without embarrassing myself because of my lacking knowledge of names, dates and according bits of entertainment, art or whatever. And pop culture is like, the main thing I hear people talk about, at least at my school, naturally....... - Talking about spiritual things, about basic opinions, won't have me compare Europe and America too much darling. It's just, these everyday things, i can't help it. For example, this so called chocolate croissant here, in front of me. GARBAGE! In any shitty store in Berlin I would find better stuff. Denny's, your beloved Denny's for example. I understand that you love it because you love shrimpp and it's cheap and you have tons of memories connected to Denny's, like being high as a kite and fulfilling the craving for food and what not, but, seriously, I. DO. NOT. LIKE. IT.
Then you say no matter what, you can't make me happy anyways, it's never enough.
Ah.
That sucks, honestly. I hate the plastic plate they gave me with the croissant. I hate this ignorance. All that. Aah. Maybe I am just homesick like fuck and this is the result. I hate the clinic sterile atmosphere in this freaking cafe. No coziness. Oh god, I am really not really happy here. I could never live here. Yesterday night when we went out with your italian friend/teacher, you got so mad because we were revelling in the beauty of Europe and Italy and all that.
Maybe you are afraid to lose me to Europe. But you could come along. Maybe you would understand me, if you went there and came back.
The point is, if an American would come to Europe and complain about shit everybody would nodd understandingly: he is homesick. But NOBODY would get fucking offended or think he is arrogant. They would think he is ignorant hahaha. In their arrogance they would think 'poor American, we were right, they are complete idiots!' Maybe I am too attached to my cultural background, maybe I am too unflexible to embrace another culture. But matter of factly, I embraced enthusiastically the Russian culture, I will freak out in South America and Africa, I know that already. But there is nothing here, that can freak me out in a good way.
Except for you honey.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
resurrection
a whirl of tearsome emotions dragging you into the black hole.
scientifically proven, existing, out there in the universe, and you know, you know, staring into the sky, staring into the noise of palmtrees in the dark wind that macrocosm equals microcosm, that the atoms and the sun systems all circle and evolve and that black holes also exist within your soul
...
mini death, if you will, a pressure that turns into oppression, a helpless effort to create order, to regain control, to empower your self, destroyed in clear morning light, naive illusionary hopes shattered at the ground, right under your feet and you sigh and you oppress this sobbing and this lake of tears from breaking through the wall and you resign, yes I AM A LOSER.
...
finally, eventually, you feel how the whirl is too strong to resist anymore, the powers of gravity take care of the rest, you feel how you are torn apart and torn into this hole and in a last attempt you rear up, squall, into the obliterated colours of the passing world, you yell the name of someone who might reach out and hold you mid fall, someone, who might understand you and not drag you down in the good willed assumption of helping you by bringing you back to some weird nasty negative reality that you never wanted to be part of in the first place.
sobbing, crying, bawling, wailing, searching for words and you realize they are burnt out, don't exist anymore, you are completely illiterate, you don't know anymore, YOU JUST DON"T KNOW ANYMORE.
sister, sister, come closer to me. hold me. promise me. that everything is gonna be allright. that i am allright. that i am okay. that i will be okay. please. pray with me. the mantra. i am okay. okay...okay....
...
from an entirely different angle from my planet, from a completely different person comes finally the unexpected hand to help: a long talk, an understanding mind and encouraging words.
oh, man, human psyche is so.... unpredictably predictable. too easy to be understood. too easy....
i laugh. cautiously at first, then relieved: resurrection is unbelievable. unbelievably - easy?
scientifically proven, existing, out there in the universe, and you know, you know, staring into the sky, staring into the noise of palmtrees in the dark wind that macrocosm equals microcosm, that the atoms and the sun systems all circle and evolve and that black holes also exist within your soul
...
mini death, if you will, a pressure that turns into oppression, a helpless effort to create order, to regain control, to empower your self, destroyed in clear morning light, naive illusionary hopes shattered at the ground, right under your feet and you sigh and you oppress this sobbing and this lake of tears from breaking through the wall and you resign, yes I AM A LOSER.
...
finally, eventually, you feel how the whirl is too strong to resist anymore, the powers of gravity take care of the rest, you feel how you are torn apart and torn into this hole and in a last attempt you rear up, squall, into the obliterated colours of the passing world, you yell the name of someone who might reach out and hold you mid fall, someone, who might understand you and not drag you down in the good willed assumption of helping you by bringing you back to some weird nasty negative reality that you never wanted to be part of in the first place.
sobbing, crying, bawling, wailing, searching for words and you realize they are burnt out, don't exist anymore, you are completely illiterate, you don't know anymore, YOU JUST DON"T KNOW ANYMORE.
sister, sister, come closer to me. hold me. promise me. that everything is gonna be allright. that i am allright. that i am okay. that i will be okay. please. pray with me. the mantra. i am okay. okay...okay....
...
from an entirely different angle from my planet, from a completely different person comes finally the unexpected hand to help: a long talk, an understanding mind and encouraging words.
oh, man, human psyche is so.... unpredictably predictable. too easy to be understood. too easy....
i laugh. cautiously at first, then relieved: resurrection is unbelievable. unbelievably - easy?
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
you, my heart, speaking
drain-rain. why is it so exhausting to cry? an afternoon passed by. sobs and snodder, folded up in my cellphone, sweater dirty, wings slacking, shoulders sacking, thought entangled in an old shoe.
tears from heaven. is heaven inside? i didn't find it in the sky. it was blue, a tired sad American flag dragging in the sky. i really live off the scale. off from what so many perceive as their world, always themselves as the center point, no matter what, whether or not you want it, I want it, we want it. Fleeting in doubts, anchoring in hopes and faith, dreaming away losing the I, drafting thoughts, reaching for medication, trying to cure the curse of the I, drugs expanding, corrupting your soul...
.
a small little flower. incredible purple. insane, how nature came up with all these gorgeous things.
is that a hawk on the church tower?
he looked through his sunglasses and said it is a fake one.
teardrops on the floor. are you stoned? or did you cry.
tears from heaven.
write your love inside my shivering soul. clinch your raw claws into my heart. eat it alive. carve your words into the emptiness that the rain left behind, cleansing and washing away what meaningless bushfires burnt and left behind.
yes, father, I know the difference between.
between
desire. lust. inclination.
and
rules, obligations, systems of belief
inbetween
is the voice
you, my heart, speaking.
tears from heaven. is heaven inside? i didn't find it in the sky. it was blue, a tired sad American flag dragging in the sky. i really live off the scale. off from what so many perceive as their world, always themselves as the center point, no matter what, whether or not you want it, I want it, we want it. Fleeting in doubts, anchoring in hopes and faith, dreaming away losing the I, drafting thoughts, reaching for medication, trying to cure the curse of the I, drugs expanding, corrupting your soul...
.
a small little flower. incredible purple. insane, how nature came up with all these gorgeous things.
is that a hawk on the church tower?
he looked through his sunglasses and said it is a fake one.
teardrops on the floor. are you stoned? or did you cry.
tears from heaven.
write your love inside my shivering soul. clinch your raw claws into my heart. eat it alive. carve your words into the emptiness that the rain left behind, cleansing and washing away what meaningless bushfires burnt and left behind.
yes, father, I know the difference between.
between
desire. lust. inclination.
and
rules, obligations, systems of belief
inbetween
is the voice
you, my heart, speaking.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
grinning fate spins chain of bad luck
I LOVE THOSE DAYS! or better those NIGHTS!
ahh, good good good, don't you absolutely LOVE it, when fate plays jokes on you? you feel like you've been rewarded with chains of bad luck like tourists with flowers in Hawaii.
yeah.
against all natural inclination and feelings I kick myself in the ass, take the convertable mercedes without a deck that my sister got god knows where. Ignoring the dark clouds that surround LA like Sioux stupid white settlers back in the days I drive all the way to Hollywood, pick up my friend K____ and take her into the HOllywood Hills, the Mulholland drive, all that good stuff. Admiring the amazing amazing view and sweet mediterranean like houses in the hills I wonder how it took me four months to come up here. I am such an ignorant bitch, to name it for once. I could still not tell you the difference between different amps, let alone guitars, I am walking through the world with a lack of attention to things that is rediculous. Well, maybe I am not walking anyways, maybe i am just floating like a real lazy piscies should. *shakes head* Thats why I don't have a car yet, That's why i don't have the CD's I actually would like to have, this is why I don't have a lot of clothes or anything, because I am just lacking interest and motivation to find out. However, to take a stance for myself right here, I do know a lot of people on Hollywood Blvd and anywhere else. I might not remember the street names or your name and all that but I do remember the encounters and I do love you.
So back to my amazing story. K____ talks me into coming to her house, - ah, just because her roommate is gone. Usually she doesn't invite me. So I hang out there with her and listen to her crazy stories, and it s fun but I feel the whole time I should actually be by myself and go. But my heart is as soft as butter so I can't just leave. Too bad for me. Finally I go and find my car wet. I forgot to cover it and I forgot it could rain. LA really deludes you. Plays nice weather for ever just to stabb you in the back.....
then A__ calls me and as I have turned her down so many times in the past I stay with her too. Fuck. The dogs. I need to walk the dogs.
a few hours later I decide I really have to go now. It s almost midnight. I am very worried about the dogs.
I go to my car, it started raining again, it pours down. I can't possibly drive in a convertable without a top in pouring rain. FUDGE. okay, cellphone, addressbook, nobody there. none of my friends can help. my love doesn't pick up his phone. I don't want to ask anybody for anything anyways. I HATE THAT. I would do anything for anyone but for myself...I can't. Maybe I should get over it huh? The only friend I really feel free to ask for favors like that is out of town. Haha. FATE. MAN! are you joking????
Anyways, I am a big girl, always been, I can take the bus. Taxi? too convenient. too expensive. I despise those lazy Los Angeleros who don't know how to use the bus. I don't care what they say about how dangerous it is. Matter of fact I grew to love the bus. The personas there are just the killer dope material for songs and paintings.
My bag is broke, it is raining in my bag. Where are your friends when you need them most?
Ahhh. I allow myself a taxi at least to the bus station. In the bus I fade in and out, have horrible dreams of falling asleep while driving and crashing into cars. Finally my love calls back. Too late darling. Fuck. I am in a bad mood. Very bad, don't wanna put it on him. At least i don't have to ask him 'where where you when i needed you most?' because he says that himself. good.
and then i start laughing. because it is so funny how like, everything EVERYTHING seems to go wrong at the same time! and all that just because i didn't listen to that feeling inside of me.
i tell you dear fellas, this inner voice has NOTHING to do with convenience, lust, desire, inclination or any of that like NOR does it have anything to do with outer obligations.
it doesn't. it is the voice that tells you to do what is right in the purest sense. despite outer or inner influences. I have tested that out in many occasions and yeah, funny sucker stories like that are the outcome.
i went into a donut store and thats when the thing flipped. An ambulance guy started talking to me, how i was etc. I laughed and said, i won a chain of bad luck and guess what, he gave me a ride home (sparing me a 15 min walk in the rain and night) and when I came here somebody already had so much compassion for the dogs to put them into their house.
so my love. it s not that i am mad that you are with your cousins, keeping your promise to hang out with them. i just think it is rediculous that you do that while my sister is still gone. it s like, man, a waste of time. but in the same time it s like, man, if you had been here i wouldn't have had anything to blog about. so - thank you! :)
yeah.
ahh, good good good, don't you absolutely LOVE it, when fate plays jokes on you? you feel like you've been rewarded with chains of bad luck like tourists with flowers in Hawaii.
yeah.
against all natural inclination and feelings I kick myself in the ass, take the convertable mercedes without a deck that my sister got god knows where. Ignoring the dark clouds that surround LA like Sioux stupid white settlers back in the days I drive all the way to Hollywood, pick up my friend K____ and take her into the HOllywood Hills, the Mulholland drive, all that good stuff. Admiring the amazing amazing view and sweet mediterranean like houses in the hills I wonder how it took me four months to come up here. I am such an ignorant bitch, to name it for once. I could still not tell you the difference between different amps, let alone guitars, I am walking through the world with a lack of attention to things that is rediculous. Well, maybe I am not walking anyways, maybe i am just floating like a real lazy piscies should. *shakes head* Thats why I don't have a car yet, That's why i don't have the CD's I actually would like to have, this is why I don't have a lot of clothes or anything, because I am just lacking interest and motivation to find out. However, to take a stance for myself right here, I do know a lot of people on Hollywood Blvd and anywhere else. I might not remember the street names or your name and all that but I do remember the encounters and I do love you.
So back to my amazing story. K____ talks me into coming to her house, - ah, just because her roommate is gone. Usually she doesn't invite me. So I hang out there with her and listen to her crazy stories, and it s fun but I feel the whole time I should actually be by myself and go. But my heart is as soft as butter so I can't just leave. Too bad for me. Finally I go and find my car wet. I forgot to cover it and I forgot it could rain. LA really deludes you. Plays nice weather for ever just to stabb you in the back.....
then A__ calls me and as I have turned her down so many times in the past I stay with her too. Fuck. The dogs. I need to walk the dogs.
a few hours later I decide I really have to go now. It s almost midnight. I am very worried about the dogs.
I go to my car, it started raining again, it pours down. I can't possibly drive in a convertable without a top in pouring rain. FUDGE. okay, cellphone, addressbook, nobody there. none of my friends can help. my love doesn't pick up his phone. I don't want to ask anybody for anything anyways. I HATE THAT. I would do anything for anyone but for myself...I can't. Maybe I should get over it huh? The only friend I really feel free to ask for favors like that is out of town. Haha. FATE. MAN! are you joking????
Anyways, I am a big girl, always been, I can take the bus. Taxi? too convenient. too expensive. I despise those lazy Los Angeleros who don't know how to use the bus. I don't care what they say about how dangerous it is. Matter of fact I grew to love the bus. The personas there are just the killer dope material for songs and paintings.
My bag is broke, it is raining in my bag. Where are your friends when you need them most?
Ahhh. I allow myself a taxi at least to the bus station. In the bus I fade in and out, have horrible dreams of falling asleep while driving and crashing into cars. Finally my love calls back. Too late darling. Fuck. I am in a bad mood. Very bad, don't wanna put it on him. At least i don't have to ask him 'where where you when i needed you most?' because he says that himself. good.
and then i start laughing. because it is so funny how like, everything EVERYTHING seems to go wrong at the same time! and all that just because i didn't listen to that feeling inside of me.
i tell you dear fellas, this inner voice has NOTHING to do with convenience, lust, desire, inclination or any of that like NOR does it have anything to do with outer obligations.
it doesn't. it is the voice that tells you to do what is right in the purest sense. despite outer or inner influences. I have tested that out in many occasions and yeah, funny sucker stories like that are the outcome.
i went into a donut store and thats when the thing flipped. An ambulance guy started talking to me, how i was etc. I laughed and said, i won a chain of bad luck and guess what, he gave me a ride home (sparing me a 15 min walk in the rain and night) and when I came here somebody already had so much compassion for the dogs to put them into their house.
so my love. it s not that i am mad that you are with your cousins, keeping your promise to hang out with them. i just think it is rediculous that you do that while my sister is still gone. it s like, man, a waste of time. but in the same time it s like, man, if you had been here i wouldn't have had anything to blog about. so - thank you! :)
yeah.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
obsessed
ahh, it sucks.
yes, another complaint post dear bloggas and bloggarinas who stumble across this.
it s funny how things that you never deem to be important at all when they happen, have the habit to haunt you for weeks and weeks to come.
so I sit there with two guy friends (American friends, that is mere aqcuaintances for German comprehension of friendship) in a cafe and at some point this guy mentions that an erected dick is as long as the hand of the guy attached to that dick.
now i find myself looking at every guys hand that i meet and my mind plays all those nasty tricks on me, trying to imagine how long this dick in erected state would be and how it would look like. yuck!
i tell ya, fellas, talking about annoying, that is freaking a n n n o y i n g with three 'n's!!!
yes, another complaint post dear bloggas and bloggarinas who stumble across this.
it s funny how things that you never deem to be important at all when they happen, have the habit to haunt you for weeks and weeks to come.
so I sit there with two guy friends (American friends, that is mere aqcuaintances for German comprehension of friendship) in a cafe and at some point this guy mentions that an erected dick is as long as the hand of the guy attached to that dick.
now i find myself looking at every guys hand that i meet and my mind plays all those nasty tricks on me, trying to imagine how long this dick in erected state would be and how it would look like. yuck!
i tell ya, fellas, talking about annoying, that is freaking a n n n o y i n g with three 'n's!!!
Monday, February 13, 2006
rediculosity
rediculous: i am in AMERICA, I have a boyfriend i am in LOVE with and we both don't feel like celebrating Valentine's day really... Me, who always advocates for putting an effort into things so they become memorable, eternal... Me, who always speaks up for the importance of beauty and celebration to make a point against all those grey and angry vibes in this world.
redliculous: how K___ carries a rose around 'just in case' for valentines day. for who? he brought me a little rose long ago, and earrings.
rediculous: how i wish secretely that my love still would MAKE sth for me on said day. what abour ear rings?
rediculous: how i coudln't really be happy about the earrings my ex boyfriend in Berlin MADE for me.
rediculous: how the gras is always greener on the other side
rediculous: how you repeat patterns that your parents lived through
rediculous: me believing EVERY month again that my period is due in about a week when I actually just am about to get it. All the fighting, all the fuzz, all the tears, all the irritation, all the chocolate and ice cream and late night spaghetti with egg splurgings, all the accusations, all the frustration, all the clumsiness: explicable! face it! you are a woman! you get your period every freaking 28 days or so! look in the sky, is the moon full or isn't it, he? ah. stupid.
rediculous: me not acknowledging to be PMSing. if i would face it for once, I could maybe start behaving extra super cautious during those days. so what happesn if i don't: i leave the house with the wrong keys, lock the door, my cellphone with all teh numbers IN the house. then, the car doesn't start, me: close to freaking out and breaking down, sobbing, calling my love, waking him up for no reason actually, taking the bus, coming late to class
in the end it was so rediculously bad that i just couldn't help but laugh about it
rediculous: me standing in front of my locked door, my sister +family in germany in BERLIN (aaaaaargh!) the landlord not having extra keys, me in a skirt without underwear, feeling sth warm and wet dropping down my knee realizing that i bloody have my period bloody bleeding hell wah! and me, outside my house without panties, without nothing, just the bloody cramps in my stomach. yuck. thats REDICULOUS and happens only to clumsy piscie piranhas like me.
word!!!
redliculous: how K___ carries a rose around 'just in case' for valentines day. for who? he brought me a little rose long ago, and earrings.
rediculous: how i wish secretely that my love still would MAKE sth for me on said day. what abour ear rings?
rediculous: how i coudln't really be happy about the earrings my ex boyfriend in Berlin MADE for me.
rediculous: how the gras is always greener on the other side
rediculous: how you repeat patterns that your parents lived through
rediculous: me believing EVERY month again that my period is due in about a week when I actually just am about to get it. All the fighting, all the fuzz, all the tears, all the irritation, all the chocolate and ice cream and late night spaghetti with egg splurgings, all the accusations, all the frustration, all the clumsiness: explicable! face it! you are a woman! you get your period every freaking 28 days or so! look in the sky, is the moon full or isn't it, he? ah. stupid.
rediculous: me not acknowledging to be PMSing. if i would face it for once, I could maybe start behaving extra super cautious during those days. so what happesn if i don't: i leave the house with the wrong keys, lock the door, my cellphone with all teh numbers IN the house. then, the car doesn't start, me: close to freaking out and breaking down, sobbing, calling my love, waking him up for no reason actually, taking the bus, coming late to class
in the end it was so rediculously bad that i just couldn't help but laugh about it
rediculous: me standing in front of my locked door, my sister +family in germany in BERLIN (aaaaaargh!) the landlord not having extra keys, me in a skirt without underwear, feeling sth warm and wet dropping down my knee realizing that i bloody have my period bloody bleeding hell wah! and me, outside my house without panties, without nothing, just the bloody cramps in my stomach. yuck. thats REDICULOUS and happens only to clumsy piscie piranhas like me.
word!!!
Thursday, February 09, 2006
should i? the box of pandora
is that all?
he looked at me, with this terrible look in his face, worried, deeply moved, in anticipation of sth horrible maybe.
yeah, i mumbled. jay and this guy in new york. hell there was no guy in new york. there were three guys here, including jay, you are the fourth dany. you are the first i love. in a VERY long time. isn't that enough? isn't that all we need to know?
how can a mind that is afraid love? krishnamurti again. I ask the same. how?
feeling like i have to make up my mind and evaluate the whole situation makes me somewhat sick. i love him. it is what it is. i've come a long way. just because i slept with guys without being in a relationship with them doesn't make me a piece of flesh, of ass. maybe to andi i was. but i won't get into that now. i did not tell him everything, having the voice of my wife still in my ear 'you just don't tell him, basta!' -never!
but it s different for me. i hate lies. i hate half truths. i don't like it. but maybe i have to accept that something i truly never can share. not in words. but thats horrible, it freaks me out. i wish i could tell him everything. but then again, only talking about sex in weird places made me so sick already. and him too. why should we torture each other.
still. i feel so bad now and i seriously considered and thought about whether or not i maybe just give him the url to my blog. which would be hell of a trust issue for me and maybe it would be a very bad decision. i mean, again, people who know me might mistake a lot of what i write. man. what should i do? do you think it is a bad idea? like opening the box of pandora, fully knowing that it holds all the peril and evil of this world.....
it s like, man, he will and should take me for who i am. why nourish illusions? but the problem is, humans are so apt to judging too quickly. this means that and that and that. the underlying motifs, reasons, motivations, intentions, are never really revealed. so although he should take me, and also KNOW piranha, my dark side of the moon, maybe i shouldn't let him read it in details. like, he might get drowned in the ocean of details. terrible.
it s similar to how i feel about his past. i don't want to know details. i don't wanna know that he fucked many girls and regrets it. i don't wanna know, especially about drugs and the ways he deals with his problems, like drinking them away, as his cousin claims to whom I once talked secretely. thats the most difficult part for me. i simply don't want to.
should my love be able to digest piranha???
he looked at me, with this terrible look in his face, worried, deeply moved, in anticipation of sth horrible maybe.
yeah, i mumbled. jay and this guy in new york. hell there was no guy in new york. there were three guys here, including jay, you are the fourth dany. you are the first i love. in a VERY long time. isn't that enough? isn't that all we need to know?
how can a mind that is afraid love? krishnamurti again. I ask the same. how?
feeling like i have to make up my mind and evaluate the whole situation makes me somewhat sick. i love him. it is what it is. i've come a long way. just because i slept with guys without being in a relationship with them doesn't make me a piece of flesh, of ass. maybe to andi i was. but i won't get into that now. i did not tell him everything, having the voice of my wife still in my ear 'you just don't tell him, basta!' -never!
but it s different for me. i hate lies. i hate half truths. i don't like it. but maybe i have to accept that something i truly never can share. not in words. but thats horrible, it freaks me out. i wish i could tell him everything. but then again, only talking about sex in weird places made me so sick already. and him too. why should we torture each other.
still. i feel so bad now and i seriously considered and thought about whether or not i maybe just give him the url to my blog. which would be hell of a trust issue for me and maybe it would be a very bad decision. i mean, again, people who know me might mistake a lot of what i write. man. what should i do? do you think it is a bad idea? like opening the box of pandora, fully knowing that it holds all the peril and evil of this world.....
it s like, man, he will and should take me for who i am. why nourish illusions? but the problem is, humans are so apt to judging too quickly. this means that and that and that. the underlying motifs, reasons, motivations, intentions, are never really revealed. so although he should take me, and also KNOW piranha, my dark side of the moon, maybe i shouldn't let him read it in details. like, he might get drowned in the ocean of details. terrible.
it s similar to how i feel about his past. i don't want to know details. i don't wanna know that he fucked many girls and regrets it. i don't wanna know, especially about drugs and the ways he deals with his problems, like drinking them away, as his cousin claims to whom I once talked secretely. thats the most difficult part for me. i simply don't want to.
should my love be able to digest piranha???
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
intuition. aaah. feel the music, love, feel it!
do you know this feeling when you aim to hit the basketball basket and once the ball has left your hands you know exactly that this will hit it perfectly? you just know it. it's a feeling of certainty that is irrational in a way but trustworthy.
the same goes for guitar soloing. you just know that this note is gonna be the right note - and you lean back, throw your head in your neck, let your heart feel the upcoming note and play it with all your passion. that is, when you know for sure that this is the exact right note to express exactly what you feel in the stream of music you are in.
ahhhh.
verry, verry good, my darling...
--------------
apparently...this whole thing here, going to school, does to me, what i hoped it would. i was so horrible in the beginning and so shy
the same goes for guitar soloing. you just know that this note is gonna be the right note - and you lean back, throw your head in your neck, let your heart feel the upcoming note and play it with all your passion. that is, when you know for sure that this is the exact right note to express exactly what you feel in the stream of music you are in.
ahhhh.
verry, verry good, my darling...
--------------
apparently...this whole thing here, going to school, does to me, what i hoped it would. i was so horrible in the beginning and so shy
Monday, February 06, 2006
song
there i sit
fighting the tears
raindrops forgotten
when the wind comes
last night i was high
and i came over rollin hills
but my passion was hidden
wrapped in blind imagination
there is nothing as tragically sad
as this realization
i wish it would go by
and leave me alone
i never asked it to come around
hit me hard
in the face
heart's turned upside down
i can't lack this now
strange reactions
like giving less out of fear not to suffice
strange strange people
i still do love
looking outside
there is no rain
sunshine is drying
my wicked brain
last night
i've been alone
in good company like always
when my heart is in tune
eternal waves
of crushing sadness
i wished so much
that this would be flawless
that this would be worth it
after all
fighting the tears
raindrops forgotten
when the wind comes
last night i was high
and i came over rollin hills
but my passion was hidden
wrapped in blind imagination
there is nothing as tragically sad
as this realization
i wish it would go by
and leave me alone
i never asked it to come around
hit me hard
in the face
heart's turned upside down
i can't lack this now
strange reactions
like giving less out of fear not to suffice
strange strange people
i still do love
looking outside
there is no rain
sunshine is drying
my wicked brain
last night
i've been alone
in good company like always
when my heart is in tune
eternal waves
of crushing sadness
i wished so much
that this would be flawless
that this would be worth it
after all
Sunday, February 05, 2006
pps hahaha
okay, ahm, other?
like no other (bling ding ding ding? tokka tokka tokka, thats the music right now on the radio)
i mean, should i bother? nother mother?
gather. other?lother? forther. okay
morpher
maybe we should all arabic lernen. tralala. and islamic wissenschaften and old ziegen and all das. yeas yes yes
maeh
haha although i know that this will read very strange tomorrow i m gonna post that. just for the fun of the lameness of it. you know?
like you wanna get stoned? no. moaned. not stoned. haha
god if ...
like no other (bling ding ding ding? tokka tokka tokka, thats the music right now on the radio)
i mean, should i bother? nother mother?
gather. other?lother? forther. okay
morpher
maybe we should all arabic lernen. tralala. and islamic wissenschaften and old ziegen and all das. yeas yes yes
maeh
haha although i know that this will read very strange tomorrow i m gonna post that. just for the fun of the lameness of it. you know?
like you wanna get stoned? no. moaned. not stoned. haha
god if ...
ps
ahhh, thats so funny and strange. i am lost in my thoughts, reading my previous post and suddenly i realize that this lady is totally moaning and sighing in the other room. i see her hand move and bow and bend and moaning like wow. i think, damn, does he fix her right there? i mean, wow, does she get just a good fix right there? man! i mean, is she like at the brink of orgasm? yurk, yooyoolooloo, argh, that makes piranha of course jealous like hell. hahahhaha. okay but he can't be better than his golden wonderful aaah such a good nice big bath tub he has. so his bath, that is a different story of a different like, man, dang, that was a trip, but yeah lets not talk about that right now. this lady has a dog who is smaller than a cat. damn. in the good old days we had. like. DOGS. you know?
doggy style. wasn't really popular either then. ah, but always good. okay, so as we have passed the sexual references thing let me get to the point for a change: i see them there. fall back into the puddle muddle of my thoughts, wake up again, like oof, there is another reality and seh laughs like a sirene, shrieking sort of, hahaha, lalala, and then i see her there again, moving and moaning and i think dand DANg and then i try to think or feel about whether that could turn me out. i mean, isn't that like hilarious and great that this guy who can have any model beauty, that this guy with like the most impeccable girlfriends ever, is fixing this 56 year old hippie l;ady?
but then, again, he could also just have massaged her. when i looked into the mirror, at least, i saw her getting a massage on her chair and then when i glance back into reality everything was back, twisted, the love making, so groundbreaking
it s like a lot of layers of reality
one
after the other
other
doggy style. wasn't really popular either then. ah, but always good. okay, so as we have passed the sexual references thing let me get to the point for a change: i see them there. fall back into the puddle muddle of my thoughts, wake up again, like oof, there is another reality and seh laughs like a sirene, shrieking sort of, hahaha, lalala, and then i see her there again, moving and moaning and i think dand DANg and then i try to think or feel about whether that could turn me out. i mean, isn't that like hilarious and great that this guy who can have any model beauty, that this guy with like the most impeccable girlfriends ever, is fixing this 56 year old hippie l;ady?
but then, again, he could also just have massaged her. when i looked into the mirror, at least, i saw her getting a massage on her chair and then when i glance back into reality everything was back, twisted, the love making, so groundbreaking
it s like a lot of layers of reality
one
after the other
other
everybody wants to get stoned
i've spent the whole day type writing the script of my artist and piscies soul mate which he'll maybe call
'I'am Bob Dylan'......
and now i sit in a candle lit hippieske warm appartment. in the appartment of the girl the whole movie will be about. it's basically her life story and boy, am i stoned right now. i think i am a 'one hit wonder'. I took one hit and i am so fucking stoned right now. the appartment seems to turn upside down, clockwise. i here the clicks of davids camera as he takes photos of her in her kitchen, the internetradio talks and they do to and the candles twinkle dinkel hehe.
very nice movies and ....says the reporter. a curtain with bellies, just about half fast midnight cool lets drive in the middle of it going through moonday. supposrt. doldaodal alles alles leute sagen alles. single. stay close/ take pictures of me, jsut doing myself.
okay enough of that snapshotting, retracing of reality. lets forget the ipod they are advising for. how esxhausting. so many noises. i never had a conversation with my father. shrieky laughter.
thats the title of the movie, thats what she just said
my fingers clumsy, the guitar rhtymic the cello tensened, oh and i have a very dry mough. mouth. i turn around and see myself in the mirror. gosh, these eyes. glasy. just as those eyes i have seen and hated so much back in the years. when i used to love pedro. or the love used me to pedro. or pedro used love to me. or against me? hm. pot oh pot was the reason then. and talking - that still works. it s just like 'hey, why don't they realize that i am so fucking stoned? so fucking bob dylan?
it s totally weird, really. my head feels like, yeah it feels like it is filled half way with water and this water swaps up and down in it. i don't see very clearly. like with from the back of my eyes. and my blood pumps in my neck. and my forehead is so presentand the back of my head too and i smell hash. or is it marihuana? or is that the same anyways?
lalala. god. okay, thats embarrassing i guess i just stop here
maybe i should just try to jam so i know what it s like to jam stoned. like, how they taught him to jam. and he promised me not to somke pot again. and there we go i just got myself stoned. so who are we to blame, to point, to complain? to shame? blame fame game?
i say we are god forsaken
or maybe just a little bit forbaden
gaden maden saden. laden baden maden raden faden gaden laden laden laden.
strange huh?
alalalalalala
perspective is so different and so much the urge to speak german after all. yah. ohhhh and i want to love and eat and love. love love.
'I'am Bob Dylan'......
and now i sit in a candle lit hippieske warm appartment. in the appartment of the girl the whole movie will be about. it's basically her life story and boy, am i stoned right now. i think i am a 'one hit wonder'. I took one hit and i am so fucking stoned right now. the appartment seems to turn upside down, clockwise. i here the clicks of davids camera as he takes photos of her in her kitchen, the internetradio talks and they do to and the candles twinkle dinkel hehe.
very nice movies and ....says the reporter. a curtain with bellies, just about half fast midnight cool lets drive in the middle of it going through moonday. supposrt. doldaodal alles alles leute sagen alles. single. stay close/ take pictures of me, jsut doing myself.
okay enough of that snapshotting, retracing of reality. lets forget the ipod they are advising for. how esxhausting. so many noises. i never had a conversation with my father. shrieky laughter.
thats the title of the movie, thats what she just said
my fingers clumsy, the guitar rhtymic the cello tensened, oh and i have a very dry mough. mouth. i turn around and see myself in the mirror. gosh, these eyes. glasy. just as those eyes i have seen and hated so much back in the years. when i used to love pedro. or the love used me to pedro. or pedro used love to me. or against me? hm. pot oh pot was the reason then. and talking - that still works. it s just like 'hey, why don't they realize that i am so fucking stoned? so fucking bob dylan?
it s totally weird, really. my head feels like, yeah it feels like it is filled half way with water and this water swaps up and down in it. i don't see very clearly. like with from the back of my eyes. and my blood pumps in my neck. and my forehead is so presentand the back of my head too and i smell hash. or is it marihuana? or is that the same anyways?
lalala. god. okay, thats embarrassing i guess i just stop here
maybe i should just try to jam so i know what it s like to jam stoned. like, how they taught him to jam. and he promised me not to somke pot again. and there we go i just got myself stoned. so who are we to blame, to point, to complain? to shame? blame fame game?
i say we are god forsaken
or maybe just a little bit forbaden
gaden maden saden. laden baden maden raden faden gaden laden laden laden.
strange huh?
alalalalalala
perspective is so different and so much the urge to speak german after all. yah. ohhhh and i want to love and eat and love. love love.
paint me paint me paint me
So I paint words on the bleak wall of his ego
Like a canvas it inspires me when it s plain and empty
sometimes I wonder whether you see, you see me?
So I scream, I vandalize and all you do
is to call the graffiti removal services
sometimes I wonder whether you can see, see me?
The words linger in the air not long they last
dust settles down as the caravan pasts
dropping down like liquid rainbows
puddle muddle away it flows
sometimes I wonder whether you can see me through these glasses, can you see me?
I guess I am not the first to claim that our love is impeccable, ah, so immaculate.
I know I am not the first to claim that this is more than anything before, ah, so special
I am not the first one to be disappointed when - relationship work kicks in.
late night depressions curl my thoughts
like what did people do without cellphones?
sinking stones compete in slow motion
I wish I could break those words into letters again
Did you hear, hear me through the dust?
Did you see me, see, beyond lust?
puddle muddle liquid phrases wash away
all the pain that I claim
all the nonsense that puts me to shame
all the weird illusions like camels in a desert
Did you hear, hear me through the dust?
did you see me, see, beyond rust?
I don't claim to be the first to have though my love to be impeccable, ahhh so immaculate
I don't claim to be the first to have loved
I don't claim to be the first to be disappointed when -relationship work kicks in
Ah but I wonder, did you ever see, see me?
Walled off get rid of this ego
ah, transformation is so full of blunt suffering
paint me
paint me
paint me
all over my body
I
Like a canvas it inspires me when it s plain and empty
sometimes I wonder whether you see, you see me?
So I scream, I vandalize and all you do
is to call the graffiti removal services
sometimes I wonder whether you can see, see me?
The words linger in the air not long they last
dust settles down as the caravan pasts
dropping down like liquid rainbows
puddle muddle away it flows
sometimes I wonder whether you can see me through these glasses, can you see me?
I guess I am not the first to claim that our love is impeccable, ah, so immaculate.
I know I am not the first to claim that this is more than anything before, ah, so special
I am not the first one to be disappointed when - relationship work kicks in.
late night depressions curl my thoughts
like what did people do without cellphones?
sinking stones compete in slow motion
I wish I could break those words into letters again
Did you hear, hear me through the dust?
Did you see me, see, beyond lust?
puddle muddle liquid phrases wash away
all the pain that I claim
all the nonsense that puts me to shame
all the weird illusions like camels in a desert
Did you hear, hear me through the dust?
did you see me, see, beyond rust?
I don't claim to be the first to have though my love to be impeccable, ahhh so immaculate
I don't claim to be the first to have loved
I don't claim to be the first to be disappointed when -relationship work kicks in
Ah but I wonder, did you ever see, see me?
Walled off get rid of this ego
ah, transformation is so full of blunt suffering
paint me
paint me
paint me
all over my body
I
Saturday, February 04, 2006
procrastination is not good when you deal with cancer
I planned on writing him this wonderful letter, send him CD's and photos and now he is gone.
Monday, European Time, my dear Godfather has left us. And I sit here in Santa Monica and ponder on life, death and the inbetween. There is more to life than death. For me at least, it goes sort of without saying that it doesn't end right there. I believe that those who leave the physical world will hear or feel us when we talk to them in our mind.
Still - it is such a heavy feeling of regret that weighs my heart down. Procrastination is not good when you deal with people who have cancer.
Intimidation should never hold you back from expressing what is in your heart. Intimidation mingled with ego is the worst. Don't think about yourself so much, about whether or not it is good or not in case you do that. As long as it doesn't harm anyone go ahead! People can decide for themselves whether or not they like your letter or gift or whatever. Leave it up to them, give them a chance.
RIP ROLF. You've been a great person in my life and with all the things I have done wrong maybe, I still am happy that I've known you and I will try to learn my lesson.
IN LOVE
Piranha
Monday, European Time, my dear Godfather has left us. And I sit here in Santa Monica and ponder on life, death and the inbetween. There is more to life than death. For me at least, it goes sort of without saying that it doesn't end right there. I believe that those who leave the physical world will hear or feel us when we talk to them in our mind.
Still - it is such a heavy feeling of regret that weighs my heart down. Procrastination is not good when you deal with people who have cancer.
Intimidation should never hold you back from expressing what is in your heart. Intimidation mingled with ego is the worst. Don't think about yourself so much, about whether or not it is good or not in case you do that. As long as it doesn't harm anyone go ahead! People can decide for themselves whether or not they like your letter or gift or whatever. Leave it up to them, give them a chance.
RIP ROLF. You've been a great person in my life and with all the things I have done wrong maybe, I still am happy that I've known you and I will try to learn my lesson.
IN LOVE
Piranha
Thursday, February 02, 2006
about piscies . lmao
So, you were wondering why I write so much all the time???
read this. geez
: The glorious Piscean imagination, their marvelous elfin tumor and the Neptunian sense of beauty can create the most delicate, yet eternally lasting prose and poetry
The fish was born with the desire to see the world through rose-colored spectacles. He knows well enough about the seamy side of humanity, but he prefers to live in his own watery, gentle world, where everyone is beauti–ful and all actions are lovely.
When life dumps him with a splash-a real belly-smacker-into a stagnant river of dismal failure and hopeless conditions, instead of leaping out of the murky danger, he's more inclined to hide behind his pale green illusions which keep him from making practical decisions. The rejected Pisces is too inclined to face the ugliness of failure by deepening his false hopes, when a determined switch of course or some new, forceful action might shower him with real, instead of imaginary, success.
The Pisces writer may be tempted to lounge for years in bars, telling himself he's gathering material, when he's really just gathering moss and unpaid bills. The Pisces artist who can't get the patronage he seeks may stroll through the park, day after day, mumbling into his beard that he's studying nature as a background for his great masterpiece, while his paint brushes gather dust. Where is the angel who will support him while he splashes canvases with glory? The Piscean woman, left alone, with just enough fixed income to keep a roof over her head and a little seaweed in the cupboard, will tend to dream away the hours, tenderly remembering yesterday, hazily hoping for tomorrow, and wasting the bright sunlight of today. The actor, composer, musician-you fill in the i stories.
HAHAHAHAHA. writer's blog? a block? hahaha. ahm. my paintbrushes gather dust. and i am sitting here, wasting my time away writing medicore shit on a blog instead of practicins my ass of for guitar.
FUCK
hahahahaha
. Now that you understand all that, is it any wonder that your Pisces friends are a bit of a puzzle at times, not to mention being outright kooky odd balls on occasion?
read this. geez
: The glorious Piscean imagination, their marvelous elfin tumor and the Neptunian sense of beauty can create the most delicate, yet eternally lasting prose and poetry
The fish was born with the desire to see the world through rose-colored spectacles. He knows well enough about the seamy side of humanity, but he prefers to live in his own watery, gentle world, where everyone is beauti–ful and all actions are lovely.
When life dumps him with a splash-a real belly-smacker-into a stagnant river of dismal failure and hopeless conditions, instead of leaping out of the murky danger, he's more inclined to hide behind his pale green illusions which keep him from making practical decisions. The rejected Pisces is too inclined to face the ugliness of failure by deepening his false hopes, when a determined switch of course or some new, forceful action might shower him with real, instead of imaginary, success.
The Pisces writer may be tempted to lounge for years in bars, telling himself he's gathering material, when he's really just gathering moss and unpaid bills. The Pisces artist who can't get the patronage he seeks may stroll through the park, day after day, mumbling into his beard that he's studying nature as a background for his great masterpiece, while his paint brushes gather dust. Where is the angel who will support him while he splashes canvases with glory? The Piscean woman, left alone, with just enough fixed income to keep a roof over her head and a little seaweed in the cupboard, will tend to dream away the hours, tenderly remembering yesterday, hazily hoping for tomorrow, and wasting the bright sunlight of today. The actor, composer, musician-you fill in the i stories.
HAHAHAHAHA. writer's blog? a block? hahaha. ahm. my paintbrushes gather dust. and i am sitting here, wasting my time away writing medicore shit on a blog instead of practicins my ass of for guitar.
FUCK
hahahahaha
. Now that you understand all that, is it any wonder that your Pisces friends are a bit of a puzzle at times, not to mention being outright kooky odd balls on occasion?
interesting, interesting...statistics experienced first hand...
"Women connect to their sex partners, and to their children, due to ahormone called oxytocin. Women secrete this hormone during orgasm, and while breast feeding. " (this is an excerpt of the article I have linked this post to, click on the title!)
Well, well, too bad, oxytocin. fuck oxytocin, it doesn't fit into my desires of how reality should be.
In my reality I am eternally happy with Dan the man, sexual monogamy, intellectual polygamy, yeah the good old stuff.
But, dang, see what happened:
I am hanging out with Guiseppe, my friend that Dan can't stand (yeah that rhymes!) but I have lamented enough about that, so I won't get into that. Innocently getting my hair brushed by another friend I sit there and enjoy being 'on the road' (at the sidewalk of Hollywood Blvd at Guiseppe's car that is...) and the tea I drink...
And suddenly Jay walks by. Jay! My lover from man, ages ago it seems, before I decided for Dany, you know that guy I woke up with one morning and had Eddy and Dany call me and all that. The guy who almost passed out when my period played a trick on me and came back when we made love... The beautiful alpha animal guy who I had 70-80 % ARGUMENTS with and the rest of the time good . yeah. love making I guess and good conversations about Erikah Badu's lyrics and music, god and life.
I jumped up, like REALLY happy to see him, gave him a hug and man, he was happy to see me.
'I was never going to tell you Piranha, he said, 'but I missed you, man I missed you...'
I've been thinking of him just recently, thinking i should just check and see how he is doing, how his music is doing and all that. I am not the kind of person who erases people out of her life.
We both had this sense of regret and affection while talking to each other. Dang. MAN. wheeew.
It blew me completely away. Brainfucked.
Fuck OXYTOCIN!
There are feelings of attachment and regret that it didn't work out with us, because, if I had only wanted to, it would have...He was up for it, I know that. fuck.
So whats up with frickin OXYTOCIN??? With these overswapping feelings?
It is what it is he said and I know he is right.
Is it wrong to have a sense of regret??? Although you are really in love with your boyfriend? Or is that a bad sign?
Who is the one to tell me???
by the way, everything is good now with Dany and me, this fucking text message was for his cousin who is gay and his paretns can't know about it...So whatever, I trust him really so thats all good. It's like, man I am not the first one to be bothered when the relationship work kicks in! but i am really willing to work! it's cool!
It's like, man, I ve been alone - practically - for 22 years or so.
and dang, was it good to see Jay. Jesus. FRick Frick Frickin fate. life. too funny. strange, tragic, fascinating, confusing. freak!!!
-------
Oh and there was shooting going on, today at 5 AM RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR HOUSE. great. helicopter, SWAT team all there, we couldn't bring the boys to school because our van was right in front of the car from which the gangsters (that is our neighbors) shot this police man. Great. Great neighborhood. We should get the fuck out of there.
welcome in Los Angeles. And don't tell me Santa Monica is a great area to live at. Not where we are. They sometimes stick like stuff under our bumper. great. My sister freaks out, righteously. fuck drugs. they make people inhumane. they make people lose their morals and common sense. fuck them. anally with a huge dick please.
oh and about this article i linked you guys up....it s just interesting. it s somewhat strange for me to read about culture wars and shit, but thats probably the harsh reality out there, outside of my connecting and enthusiastic, inflammable mind.
Well, well, too bad, oxytocin. fuck oxytocin, it doesn't fit into my desires of how reality should be.
In my reality I am eternally happy with Dan the man, sexual monogamy, intellectual polygamy, yeah the good old stuff.
But, dang, see what happened:
I am hanging out with Guiseppe, my friend that Dan can't stand (yeah that rhymes!) but I have lamented enough about that, so I won't get into that. Innocently getting my hair brushed by another friend I sit there and enjoy being 'on the road' (at the sidewalk of Hollywood Blvd at Guiseppe's car that is...) and the tea I drink...
And suddenly Jay walks by. Jay! My lover from man, ages ago it seems, before I decided for Dany, you know that guy I woke up with one morning and had Eddy and Dany call me and all that. The guy who almost passed out when my period played a trick on me and came back when we made love... The beautiful alpha animal guy who I had 70-80 % ARGUMENTS with and the rest of the time good . yeah. love making I guess and good conversations about Erikah Badu's lyrics and music, god and life.
I jumped up, like REALLY happy to see him, gave him a hug and man, he was happy to see me.
'I was never going to tell you Piranha, he said, 'but I missed you, man I missed you...'
I've been thinking of him just recently, thinking i should just check and see how he is doing, how his music is doing and all that. I am not the kind of person who erases people out of her life.
We both had this sense of regret and affection while talking to each other. Dang. MAN. wheeew.
It blew me completely away. Brainfucked.
Fuck OXYTOCIN!
There are feelings of attachment and regret that it didn't work out with us, because, if I had only wanted to, it would have...He was up for it, I know that. fuck.
So whats up with frickin OXYTOCIN??? With these overswapping feelings?
It is what it is he said and I know he is right.
Is it wrong to have a sense of regret??? Although you are really in love with your boyfriend? Or is that a bad sign?
Who is the one to tell me???
by the way, everything is good now with Dany and me, this fucking text message was for his cousin who is gay and his paretns can't know about it...So whatever, I trust him really so thats all good. It's like, man I am not the first one to be bothered when the relationship work kicks in! but i am really willing to work! it's cool!
It's like, man, I ve been alone - practically - for 22 years or so.
and dang, was it good to see Jay. Jesus. FRick Frick Frickin fate. life. too funny. strange, tragic, fascinating, confusing. freak!!!
-------
Oh and there was shooting going on, today at 5 AM RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR HOUSE. great. helicopter, SWAT team all there, we couldn't bring the boys to school because our van was right in front of the car from which the gangsters (that is our neighbors) shot this police man. Great. Great neighborhood. We should get the fuck out of there.
welcome in Los Angeles. And don't tell me Santa Monica is a great area to live at. Not where we are. They sometimes stick like stuff under our bumper. great. My sister freaks out, righteously. fuck drugs. they make people inhumane. they make people lose their morals and common sense. fuck them. anally with a huge dick please.
oh and about this article i linked you guys up....it s just interesting. it s somewhat strange for me to read about culture wars and shit, but thats probably the harsh reality out there, outside of my connecting and enthusiastic, inflammable mind.
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