forgotten

the night is long in paris, especially when you have no plan, we take out our phones and call the people we don't even know that long, the strangers we just met, to feel some sort of social belonging. Our hopes are getting up to spend one more evening like the one we had before. An addiction starts to take us over, the search for that infinite rush makes us mad, as we keep looking for familiar marks that brought us to the nights where we lost ourselves completely. We want to find the path to freedom, to revive the moment, to relive our memory, with all the same characters in it, the ones we've cherished, the ones who made us laugh, who took us over the edge, the ones we've already said goodbye to and have forgotten us.

We move to another nameless place and find ourselves lonely in a capital city where we would imagine greatness is bound to happen. It's always another adventure to go in to the night alone, not knowing what will cross our path, but anxious, and out of breath, waiting for someone to rescue us from the quiet alley we're waiting in. We walk around looking for that spark, that moment we had, that high that we have felt before, desperately, seeking for it in every corner, and our faces change from hope in to something else as time passes by. As the sadness is about to take over, we refuse and force to walk another route to paradise. Dissapointing faces change in to smiles, another location is found to keep us for the night. Hand in hand we walk in to oblivion, our hearts racing, knowing what will come next, we are filled with new found hope. Time has come again to take us to that other level of sanity, or insanity as some people would call it, we don't care, this is what we've been searching for. We take it in with one last breath, we are here, no regrets, everything is possible from now on, boundaries change in to bonding, friends in to fornication, under the influence we speak fluently, a new day is about to rise, the sun comes up and lights the room up with whiteness, a proof of life, when the night changes in to day and we don't even know where we are, or how we will get home, we are here, as we are awake, alive, deadly and ready for more...Anything to keep us from sleeping, anything but that...

the final bow

Walk in Silence

"People like you find it easy,
Naked to see,
Walking on air.
Hunting by the rivers,
Through the streets,
Every corner abandoned too soon,
Set down with due care.
Dont walk away in silence"


.


Where were you when you sat there in the rain with me, body to body to gain heat, holding an umbrella above our heads? The romantic set up was like something out of a movie, so perfect and almost too cliche for it's own good. Our legs shaking from the cold or from the music, hands in my pockets, whispering and looking away, my eyes are open, but instead of gazing at you I look up to see the black night taking a hold of me, tightening it's grip firmer within minutes. In an imprisoned state all I could see was the lights of the black and white movie screen, the occasional couple in front of us showing affection, the projected love story heading for disaster, and next to me a fine-looking prankster without a clue. We were complete strangers trying to be comfortable with each other, friends as you will. I have never felt so invisible. If only you could have seen inside of me. We listened to Joy Division songs, shared a few drinks and laughs, all the while watching Sam Riley as Ian C. going through the exact same heart ache as I was going through. I wanted to shake you and scream; Love is tearing me apart, too. The night was terribly cold for August, and the rain kept falling, as I was falling. Why couldn't you see, why didn't I say something? The end credits rolled in, the final song "Atmosphere". Where were you when the music was telling you exactly what i was thinking?

"Walk in silence, Don't walk away, in silence." - Joy Division

A change of speed, a change of style.
A change of scene, with no regrets,
A chance to watch, admire the distance,
Still occupied, though you forget.
...
We'll share a drink and step outside,
An angry voice and one who cried,
We'll give you everything and more,
The strain's too much, can't take much more.
I've walked on water, run through fire,
Can't seem to feel it anymore.
It was me, waiting for me,
Hoping for something more,
Me, seeing me this time,
Hoping for something else.

taken from - joy division - new dawn fades

i'm not your friend

Didn't understand what to see
Yeah, then I got a different view
It's you...no.

Wait, I'm gonna give it a break.
I'm not you friend,
I never was.

- The Strokes

"Time weighs down on you like an old, ambiguous dream. You keep on moving, trying to sleep through it. But even if you go to the ends of the earth, you won't be able to escape it. Still, you have to go there- to the edge of the world. There's something you can't do unless you get there."
-Haruki Murakami (Kafka on the Shore)

Some things you don’t know you miss until, out of nowhere, you have them back, or have them back but back all wrong…The way, after a dream, where you’ve kissed someone who, in real life, you’ll never kiss again, maybe you’ve never kissed at all, you wake up and realize, in the throbbing pit of your stomach, how impossible it is to live without kissing them again.
— Jerry Stahl, Perv—A Love Story

The masochist desires to experience pain, but he generally desires that it should be inflicted in love; the sadist desires to inflict pain, but he desires that it should be felt as love…
— Studies in the Psychology of Sex

the passenger

Do you remember how we used to curl up in to one another, how we could lose ourselves in one look, lashes locked together, the stroke of your hands made my hairs stand up, as they still do when you touch me.


Do you remember when we laughed so hard I almost had a stroke, and all those times I cried because of the shit hitting the fan again, probably over some stupid stunts I'd pulled, because yeah, you would never do anything out of the blue

Nothing you do is strange to me, there are no surprises, no big gestures, and everything is common ground. I am so used to everything, I wonder who you are or who you could be without me, as I do the same for me, what would my life be if I wouldn't have you to pick up the pieces behind me, would I get lost in all my travels, and jump start my carreer in to oblivion, would I come back home at night after another succesful day and simply find myself alone, with no funny man to share my stories with? Who would laugh at my stupid jokes? Would I be a different person at all ? Would I want to know all these things ... without you?

Do you remember those days before we went numb, we really felt something... something special, extraordinary, pure, unconditional love, real heart.

Do you remember the dark nights of endless talk, the unsaid words, the discoveries of your feelings and mine, getting to know everything there is to know about your person and vice versa, and how long that took for both of us to really open up.

I feel like the odd one out. A stranger looking in, often looking for a way out. Out of the ordinary, I want to shake into you some real life. Make you see what it is I'm talking about, feeling that blood gushing through your veins, THIS IS IT! THIS PURE FUCKING HIGH called livin it up, is driven by Impulse, usually involving some Random acts of Foolishness or self destruction, and Excitement for all things New and uncommon. We need absolute rushes where you lose yourself, where your mind is wrecked out of control, and where for once, you don't have to think. I would let you understand, bring you with me on this crazed, confused and unexpected journey. If you would let me, that is. The trick is: Take Risks. Throw off all shame you've garnered over the years and Finally: Give in! Logical living equals Methodical, or Planned living, equals Elderly. No one has to live this kind of life willingly. This plan will get in to motion when you are either a) in a hospital b) in a retirement home, in either way, kill me now.
If I could I would drag you with me outside and do everything for you that you couldn't, I would face your fears for you, I would kick in some doors for you and close old ones, I'd take away the pain you'd experience during this one way ticket ride..except I can't. Face it: The world is passing by and you are missing out.


Do you remember when I tried to get you to speak to me when you were mad, talking to you in all kinds of tones and shifting moods every two seconds while doing so, no matter what, i would wait forever for you to give in, to talk to me, to give me that hug and tell me that you'd love me once again. Now, i don't try so hard anymore....

Do you remember when our safe little world shattered, and we had to trade it in for another kind of world. The moment when we knew life had it in for us, and we were not spared just because we were cute, here it was where our fairy tale life ended, and finally realized we were vulnerable, that we too were heading for a - hopefully long - bumpy road ahead leading to our inevitable demise. As long as we were together we could deal with it,...

Do you remember when simple things were enough to keep us satisfied, and as the years go by, we start to wonder, we evolve, we grow up and don't want to miss out on anything. As a result we miss out on each other,..

I remember all of these things. You can't help it, and I can't help you BE you, so maybe we should just let each other be who we really are for once. Let's take a ride and see how many things we can do alone or together. I have no idea where this ride will take me, As long as I don't crash and burn i am willing to ride it out

As bowie put it, we are absolute beginners,...


"Well see the stars that shine so bright
The sky was made for us tonight" - iggy pop - the passenger

ooooohhh when i'm dead and gone

I love you night and day.
When I leave you baby
Don't cry the night away.
When I die don't you write
No words upon my tomb.
I don't believe
I want to leave no epitaph of doom.

And the day will end for some As the night begins for one

As I was walking the black empty streets leading to nothing, I looked at you and remembered, I danced with the devil, as I sold my soul in the twilight city again. Wild at heart, we hear ourselves echoing in the streetlights. There are no people around. We live in the night, like we're lost in the day. The days that pass by so fast, sometimes are so slow, let's fast forward to another world. Your eyes are out of control, I can keep you sane. We walk for hours, until I left back home, where I danced out of joy. I want to sleep until the night comes to take me again. Here it's where my life begins. The kids are dressed fresh, and everything is well, as we are ready take over the world. We dance and kiss, and nothing is real. Until truth knocked me back on my feet, a sharp pain is what I feel. I gaze at the tragedy happening right in front of me, about to burst right on the floor.

I rush out, I want out, I'm strung out, while I move forward through the crowd
The strange faces of tonight are a blur as I flee the stairs to solitude, I spin from left to right, I look down, I notice this black hole in my body. Dark fluid starts leaking out of the wound and ruins my latest purchase; a charcoal silk dress from La Fayette. Just as I start to collapse, invisible hands grab my throat and start to squeeze. there goes my life. I need to escape, I feel like a wreck. This ruined everything you are. Stars are crashing down, my soul's crushing. I try to grab my stuff, when I realize I am a mess on the second floor. The quiet backroom and it's concrete walls save me, a second ago I was cool. The only strangers here leave an empty impression, I walk up to them in tears, like this is just another day, I try to bum a cigarette. Leaning with my elbows on the railing of the upper floor I look down at the unknown crowd losing their innocence. You are in the middle of this chaos. I turn around, I wonder, can I leave this, and everything else behind me. I want to go home. When it hits me I am stuck in this place, I face up to it and give in to the night. I throw off all shame, hit the liquor in front of me, pour this medicine in the wound, I am pleased I am being cleansed. There's nothing better than to rinse this dirt away and keep it from perverting me further. I want to drown all of this in spirits. As I slowly start to heal, everything becomes a blur, as we strut around Rue de Rivoli. This is where we lose our soul for good, we love, we forget, we spin around, we fall,... we fade into oblivision. I stumble in to the taxi when the birds are about to wake up, I want absolution.

"Solemn faced, The village settles down, Undetected by the stars. And the hangman plays the mandolin before he goes to sleep. And the last thing on his mind is the Wild Eyed Boy imprisoned

Staring through the message in his eyes, Lies a solitary son." - David Bowie - Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud.

never settle for less

i'm so in love, i'm so in love, i'm so fucking in love... with something.
this feeling is ultimate, this is the desperate need of wanting to get out, out of the ordinary, out of this town, this godforsaken place where people come to huddle up and make babies, to pat themselves on their backs for another well spent day at the grey office faking smiles and shaking hands with anyone but a brain, in this town where people claim they have found peace, i feel as though i have died and this is my sanctuary, this is where my remains are lying, yet instead of rotting away , these limbs are still moving, and growing as i pump myself full of energy, full of alcohol and food, to feel something, to feel as though i am still here. the days go by and i have no strength to keep them in their place, and just sit their waiting for something, just as i am sitting here, waiting for something. but what is it that we are waiting for. we need to open our eyes and make amense with what we have and stop complaining, or, we need to grab ourselves up, break ties that are formed during the years and flee, away in to the sunset, we ride and we walk, and we forget how to talk, it's not an option. the fear of being alone in this journey is what keeps me from running out of the fucking door. the positive effect of this repetitive choice to stay in this lost town is that i am happy, often, not always, but some moments are really rare gems, that many of you will never have in their life, it is a true and uncontrollable love taking over the wheel of my life, and not to be taken away by such a fool's choice as choosing the unknown path to possible perfection. there i have put it in writing once again, the choices we make, the ones we can never speak about in public, let alone write in black on white, the doubt we never speak of, the pros and cons, and there are so many many of them, it will take a life time of figuring out. what it is i want out of life, what it is that makes me stay in the same place, being bored out of my skull and not doing anything about it, being totally aware of this situation, and yet still giving in to it, what is it that i so very much crave for another kind of life, to be excited by it, to find yourself really alive?? i hope for more meaning, and i am going to seek for it, i will never stop this journey, and don't worry even if you think i've settled down, know, that i am still looking for answers i will never find, and that i will never settle peacefully with just 'making the best out of it', for i won't settle for less than pure living, and craving for more, for more, more..

back and back again

Losing my way then finding it again, only to lose it a few fucking minutes later. standing in another point now, looking so certain, feeling like a completely new me, or maybe like the old me, about to take over the world, stronger than ever and ready for action... that was me a few minutes ago. the magic of rest really has effect on your energy, health and inspiration. if only my mood was so easily influenced, it still changes from good to bad in seconds, from happy to sad, nothing inbetween, being thrown off by the usual, unbelievably so, i keep coming back for more. fuck it, i'm going

What's the purpose of trying?

and as the road to riches slowly starts to become a never ending chase into the desert of shamelessness, I start to think that this might be a good time to pack my empty bags with litter and profanity and head back south to france again. I miss the neat pavement, expensive taxis and corner tourists eating their cheap croissants. A small funding problem won't hold this return to reason, but this dirty old town called Amsterdam is already getting on my weak nerves again, too much time on my hands is not the problem like before - as i keep getting booked for small jobs as well as the occassional bigger client - no, it's every little niche and streetlamp i come across, that take me right back to that fictional place i was almost able to erase completely. I guess it's true what they say that you can't run from certain facts or people from your life, they follow you around whether you want to or not, the only thing that restrains this frequent recollection, that in a masochistic manner i'm certain i recall upon self demand, is hard, cold liquor. It makes me flow, it takes me up in a whirlwind to another level of consciousness. awaiting the flow again, but this time i'm referring to money issues, I am thrilled like a child to be on the road again, exhaustion of carrying pounds of excess baggage around, another masochism, makes me feel like i'm doing something worthwhile, i'm addicted to this rush of moving around, literally replacing this scenery for a better one, another set that we can act, ofcourse without rehearsing, capturing the next dramatic scene to come.

les jours d'une photographe a paris

So there i am at gare du nord, carrying my black heavy loaded suitcase - filled with all the necessities to create a nice shoot - rolling along the smooth pavement of this busy paris station. I inhale a quick smoke and watch my bags carefully before i get into the taxi to rue de legendre, where my shabby little hotel awaits me. I amuse the driver with my obama conversation and without a good tip because I'm too broke for the ride anyway, I get out of the taxi and look up and down at what is supposed to be my hotel. The road I am standing in looks empty, dark and a forgotten street of Paris. An arabic looking fellow, who's slow in his movements and obviously forgot I was coming gives me a key to my room. I carry my heavy loaded suitcase up the stairs and ask him for some help, as I'm sure it's common for a fellow to help a lady. The pity fool contemplates this seemingly, ordinary question for a moment, asks if my lamp standard is too heavy to carry, and then decides to carry it -while moaning- to the fourth floor anyway. Whaddayknow, the elevator is out of order, 'pour l'instant'. I spent the next two days exercising just to get into my room.

I drop my stuff at the room, and was expecting exactly this, a small room, with a bed that barely fits the room, no electricity plugs in sight, and the tiniest little bathroom you could expect for exactly the same kind of budget. I smoke a cigarette and inspect the street where I will have to live in for the next couple of days. I'm overcome with sadness and poorness. A taxi pulls up and this wonderful young lad and black haired girl step out. Ah voila, c'est Annabel, ma amie d'amsterdam et la Jeremy kaponz, a boy with a james dean look, hair all over the place, almost too beautiful for his own good. I spent a good deal of time with them, and as I am shooting them in my small bed, in my hotel room, following a series of walk arounds drinking beer and shooting pictures, near the most uncommon of all places in paris in the 17th district, I almost forgot that I've just arrived and still need to eat.

At 11 o'clock sharp I push the huge brown door to get in this patio where I would have to guess which door would lead to the agency I am supposed to be at. A mobile phone leads me to my appointment on time, and I am seated in this white room, behind a desk, where I am supposed to meet the boys for the casting today. I call them in one at a time and smile and act like this is the normal way of life, judging and approving/dissaproving someone in 5 minutes, already knowing first hand when I meet them if they are what I am looking for. Some of them are shy and others i turn away instantly, while they are full of themselves, who needs a boy that doesn't want to be liked by anyone , anyway. Ten guys from the age of 18 until 20 follow in a quick tempo and I am impressed by two of them. I book one of them for a shoot on thursday and then i run out again for my next appointment, while getting lost in the crowd of the subway station I hardly have time to think about the fast and mad world I got into, so i go to two other agencies where i also cast some models, and go back to my last night in this poor hotel near place de clichy.

Hanging on too long

I keep coming back to the same point in my life, I could travel until the end of the world, taking everything that i physically need to survive with me in my backpack, except him, and i still would find him there in another city, another world completely from what we have come to know, i'm finding him everywhere. I feel like i've stepped in to a Romantic Love kinda 50's flick, without the 50s part unfortunatly, and where we are in the middle of the troublesome scene where everything will have to be resolved in order to come to the grand ending of everlastings and happy living arrangements like that. Instead of waiting for that to happen, I am leaving to the next european city that can reanimate me, and shake me awake, the train ticket with just my name on it - to get lost in a city of french and foreign strangers in the most romantic city of the world, Paris - is waiting for me on my desk. Just arrived back home in the low lands and already aching to leave this frenzy, this rain, this life draining place and rat race of the same sad sob stories again.

"my blood runs on but my body stands still" - Virginia Woolf

muse

So I suppose I do not know how he really looked and, in fact, I suppose I shall never know, now, for he was plainly an object created in the mode of fantasy. His image was already present somewhere in my head and I was seeking to discover it in actuality, looking at every face i met in case it was the right face - that is, the face which corresponded to my notion of the unseen face of the one i should love, a face created by the rage to love which consumed me. i created him solely in relation to myself, like a work of romantic art, an object corresponding to the ghost inside me. - Flesh and the mirror; fireworks by angela carter.

Slum Village

With my head anything but in the clouds, i carry myself like a heavy load towards an appointment that has been inevitable for months. Not knowing what to expect of such a meeting, I went in with no expectations what so ever. Though I didn't bring my expectations this time, seeing as how they got lost the last time... this time, they were met. It came as such a surprise, a feeling of joy, overwhelmed by a good ending again, for a minute i think that things are turning up. Not believing what happened, I continue the rest of my day feeling proud, as i got what i wanted,... this time.

I wake up, wish the day away, stumble around and throw on the first clothes i can find. Strutting around the house looking dazed for the instant coffee machine, i think about what just happened, not affecting me so vividly anymore. Ah, the fake sugar gives me my daily dosage of fake energy, right up my alley, right. I check my mail, the mirror - I shiver - shower, dress up, hurry up and catch the last train to arrive not-so-fashionably late on the set. I am tired all the time, being nice costs energy, so i whip out more food my stomach can handle. Binging away, it's official, I have lost control. I can't think or process more than two words at once, i am running around in circles, chaos calms my nerves, rest races my thoughts. Hammer time. My trip to Paris, followed by a few more cities, couldn't have come sooner to save my reason. City of light, guide me. For now, I'm back in Slum village, walking up and down on Memory lane. Let's trade places, step in my shoes and travel from good times to bad times and back again in minutes. High and low, heart beats fast and slow, i feel cold and warm at the same time, not happy not sad, who could ever take this? Misery and magic hand in hand, someone break the spell, this curse, a parasite in me. Distance and solid boundaries, this is final. Heart hopes forever, stop it, so will I. Finally leaving, i'm aware of your moves. You turn a blind eye. Promise not to dwell, see you somewhere. Handle with care, I wish u well

good times for a change...

so please please please, let me, let me, let me,
get what i want this time.

valuable time

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
but heaven knows I'm miserable now
I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
In my life why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die ?
In my life why do I smile at people who I'd much rather kick in the eye
- The Smiths

adrenaline

the cars are racing by, we are walking away from edie and i am so close now, it all feels so familiar. a ticking clock in one hand, sweat in the other, in true uncertain manner i follow my own advice and realize it's time for action. time is running away again, and maybe it will have company soon. i have learned that even slow motion keeps moving forward eventually, so i hand over the attack of reason, or book if you want to call it by it's name. some rapid eye movement follows, while i look for clues on the one standing before me, i am intrigued. i get hit in the face by what has just been triggered and i get a hint from my mind, i need to get out of here. exit the scene and replace it for another one. i am suffocating from the open air, or are am i standing to close to an edge? looking into the abyss, i am pretty sure this gap wasn't there before? a short drive where i hold on tight follows. quick goodbyes after i jumped off, i cut an invisible cord and head in the only direction i know where i am welcomed with open arms. i ignore the tourists with a deadly look as they are trying to approach. eye on the prize baby. pacing forward like i am in need for a fix, i am full speed ahead, am i on acid, or what is happening. the adrenaline rushes me back to life, this is kicking me up so high, i am untouchable.

a new sun wakes me up and persuades me, yes, i am back in the real world again, my nights are long, but in the morning everything that once was colored turns into a desaturated blur. so i get up, don't get dressed, because why would i, and i wait for hours on end for that call. there's work waiting for me, but i am unable to focus. sitting there looking outside, looking at the pictures, looking at
a distraction so firm, insane i know, the distance blossoms, alter my reasoning, i need a break from you. spending all my time waiting, hoping for anything out of the ordinary putting me on the map again. that unusual boom you know you need when you are feeling this low, something that would blast me high up there standing firmly on the edge again. maybe i can buy a one way ticket to a world of madness. a week of nothing to mention leaves me quite non existent. later on, fixed like a fox, imagining it all so different, i say nothing of importance. drinking my coffee, pretending this is casual, we gaze and wish we were at other places. thinking stuff that doesn't make sense, nothing real at all. dreams and days merging into full blown daze. sensing a feeling, about to purge, noticing i am damaged. weak like never before, triumph lost, i dissapear.

a few days pass, lose the need, the urge, the ache. suddenly i get a huge break, higher than ever i feel alive, i am fucking alive. existing once more, i breathe with a passion, my veins are open to whatever comes next, a whirlwind of new exciting adventures grabs me by the hand and we walk on the same sidewalk, i am certain of where i am heading, up, and away

"He never really looks at me
I give him every opportunity, In the room downstairs
He sat and stared, In the room downstairs
He sat and stared
I'll never make that mistake again - The Smiths"