here is to for ever

knots

2011-09-01T18:07:00.000-07:00

There are no words invented yet
that describe the knot of inconvenient confusion
maybe there are, I am just unable
to put those man invented words in the right order to make a sentence

inadequate, truthfully that word has been on repeat in my head the last couple of days
god i hate that word, inadequate.
it's not even a pretty word to look at
it doesn't flow right, it almost hurt when you use it in a sentence
and it certainly makes you look like a pretentious asshole when you use it

when a writer realizes that he has no idea what to write
because he first has to figure out where to begin
it's time to sit back, look at the ceiling covered in spiderwebs,
worry about cleanin the place he's sitting in,
rather than spending his time writing senseless words in an empty box that no one is ever going to read.

writers block
it's not a block
it's just a little knot in your head that you have to untie
it takes time.

my legs hurt

2011-08-22T19:10:00.000-07:00

i am in pain
and i have show it to myself
and the world
let them
know about
my suffering

i feel it just a little
but not enough
tomorrow i will feel it completely

let go
close your eyes
start again

i am not done yet
the punishment always wins

what's the point
nobody listens

I don't even listen
people tell me so.

what they don't know is that i have an archive of words
in my head
sometimes they bother me at night
when the lights are out
and i have given in to the darkness
i hear their words
repeating conversations in my head

nobody listens.
but as a reader who reads between the lines
i heard what you were saying
by just looking at you.

i wish i wasn't invisible.
i'm here
all you have to do is open your eyes

people don't listen
I'd rather be blind than deaf
I'm glad I paid attention when
those nuns taught me how to type blind

I don't need sight
to hear the colorful birds sing in the morning

See me
Recognize me
Indulge me
Record me
Love me
Hurt me
Leave me
Hate me

Don't ignore my flesh
my blood
the cracks in skin
the lines in my face

my legs hurt
my back aches
I have been standing in the
exact same position
like a Rodin statue
at the same place under the concrete tunnel
at the hotel where they charged me triple the amount for a beer
where you left me

I took the elevator
walked through the corridor
slipped my card key in the door
and went to bed

But I never left.

2011-08-22T17:18:00.001-07:00

Beautiful people
say beautiful words

Ugly people
Don't.

Undo

2011-08-22T15:55:00.000-07:00

If you would
untie your laces

You would know what it means
to walk in my shoes

I have blisters.

13 going on 30

2011-08-22T15:51:00.000-07:00

I made it this far

thirteen
going
on
thirty

or is it
the other way around

i can't believe i wasted a whole year
some don't agree with me, but
believe you me,
i agree with me.
in a literal way
and a not so literal
what's my waste if you'd compare it to the wasted hours spent by a desk clerk.

I hope next year I will be a better human
I hope that I won't be as self involved and considerably conceited

It would be nice to have real conversations
meet people
and hear what they actually have to say
but sometimes I really don't know what that ACTUALLY is

I have been paying attention
I need less attention
and pay more
ATTENTION!

I hope that I will be able to listen
to them
to the world
to the cats next door
to my body
to the future
to the knocking on the door

I hope I won't be hoping for the same thing
as I did last year
which is everything that I just wrote down.

Hope is a sad word, isn't it?

Making a point

2011-08-22T15:39:00.000-07:00

of course
we don't see eye to eye on most points
but I am sure that this hold over me

this spell
this game
this waste of time
this misogynistic masochism of mine

has some point
a certain point
a bigger dot
or even just a small one

that we can both agree on in the end

I want to make sure I am there
when the lines are being drawn

from point A
to point B

A lazy motive

2011-08-22T15:30:00.000-07:00

Some morning
Some day
Some place
I will guarantee you
I will write something
Without having to pour myself a drink
Or what you would call "A motive".

Just you wait.
I will surprise you fools
Critics and Non Believers wet your panties in the sink
so we can call it a day

It's not that easy standing by
I know
I have been on stand by for decades.

Substance makes it easier.
It also makes you more simple and hollow
but that is a different chapter all together.

I'm very lazy
and I do not know where to begin
I only know where to end.

Lies.

I wake up at noon on a mean sunday morning

2011-08-22T15:24:00.000-07:00

The light cracks in to the room
this yellow blanket is too warm
I throw it off turning around
hand under my pillow
pretending to sleep
as I hear my Mother's shoes clicking on the stairs
walking through the hallway and entering my room

I turn once more when I feel her warm kisses on
my shoulder
my upper arm
my elbow
on my cheek
wake up she says with a big grin on her face

Everything but a grin on my tiresome face
I look old as I brush my hair back to cover my forehead

I wake up at noon on a mean sunday morning
throw off the sauna also known as cover
throw on a sundress
that leans so gently
on the leaning
of my mother's couch

I splash water in my face
and in my belly
I see myself sitting down

I shove my feet in these rundown black boots
that I have worn for more than two years

Mother calls again
and it's starting to bother me

She means well

I go downstairs with my rundown face and I stuff my tired mouth
The catalyst runs

My care takers know what's best for me.

2011-03-13T10:14:00.001-07:00

life has taken a quite expected turn for the unfamiliar

2010-10-24T07:29:00.001-07:00

At some point in our prepubescent lives you all experience that micro Socrates moment where you stop to think and ask yourself crucial questions about life, it is that little fundamental moment in your life when you really stop to think and get all philosophical. Then a jerk named Society hijacks those thoughts, censors them and takes control. He locks up your sense of reasoning, throws away the key and keeps you busy with all sorts of repetitive activities, persuading you to stop questioning, to blend in as much as possible, advising you to match your fellow inmates as much as possible. Gradually forcing you to live life mindlessly numb without doubt. I call that purposeless. We go on living, working, fucking and breathing, passively agreeing with anything set out for us by others? So call me malfunctioned, ready to be send in for repair work, I have a hard time bowing down to a senseless life without reason,to be terrifically frank, can I honestly just say I still don’t get the punchline of life, or did I miss the memo?

2010-10-24T07:22:00.001-07:00

I remember when I didn’t give a damn. I miss those days. Now, I wish I gave a damn and could actually remember what day it is.

2010-09-24T07:06:00.001-07:00

twitter.com/YEAHGEAH

2010-09-24T07:05:00.001-07:00

I wish I wasn't So Evil.

Short notes on a Ride to Insanity - fire to fury

2010-09-05T08:21:00.001-07:00

So I managed to get myself finally to JFK and now I'm waiting in a badly lit hall, investigating the pattern of the gray carpet. I don't know whether to think it's just painful for my eyes or actually mesmerizing, at least the carpet is interesting enough for me to hold my attention, and I catch myself staring at it way too long. The waiting area is filled with too many people that don't want to sit next to each other on blue faux leather chairs, all looking in their papers or on their watches to see if it's boarding time yet. Let's face it, boarding planes is boring. It's just about my least favorite thing to do in the world. I am not a patient person and waiting is therefor an absolute torture for me. Just put me in a room and let me wait for "something" and I would be terrifically bored. Sometimes it is good to be bored, people who say they are never bored, try desperately to be cool and are probably living the uttermost passion-less lives themselves. Boredom makes you think, and thinking gets me in a perfect creative process. When I am too busy I don't really think too much. That's why I need these little torture waiting areas. It makes me think about more fun times, it takes me back on a fantastical voyage in my mind to places I don't think too often about or about people I forgot. It brings me back to the places I walked by without actually noticing where or what I was walking past. This happens not so often, I tend to really soak in my surroundings when I stroll around. But sometimes, when I would get too hung over or have a terrific come down of substances, I would float instead of stroll, and wouldn't pay too much attention to the people in the street or the nice little shops. In that state it is almost like you are wearing an invisibility cloak, a magical cape that gives you a temporary superpower of being unnoticed. Right now, in the waiting room I look around and I notice it again, that no one really observes anyone. I am in my cloak feeling comfortably numb and unseen. It is the perfect time to recapitulate the last couple of weeks I spent in the most visited city of never land, New York. I feel stressed and tired, and I look at my hands trembling, probably because of a sugar low or because I haven't smoked a cigarette for a couple 'o hours. That little energy I had left before I came here has been ridiculously sucked out of me, and the only thing on my mind now is to get these heavy bags on the plane, and leave to my home-icidal destination Amsterdam, which I sure hope is not going to be my Final Destination - Did you see that movie? I'm flying back to one hundred percent reality, I think. This short trip, where I spent my most of my days in the Lower East Side, has been a four week delirium, filled with non-stop skulduggery, switching back and forth between classics such as "Girl, Interrupted" and "Single White Female". It's been a continuous fury where I ended up feeling wonderfully lost, and, with an ironic cherry on top; literally losing everything - from my handbag, passport, money, bank cards and two phones - to losing my forceful beating heart, morals, restrictions and the false hope for things to get better. I came here with Great expectations and a full blown desire for life, only to end up living in chaos, self destruction and borderline insanity. I have to hurry, the gates are open and "we are now boarding".

To be continued.

2010-08-14T15:05:00.001-07:00

2010-08-13T12:01:00.000-07:00

Success and fame lead to a lonely life; A world without love, where a person's reality is altered by the opinions of others, a world of make believe with puppets who are only called to perform if the director says so. I hold the strings and my master holds mine. It is constantly hollow, distant and if you run with it too long it will lead to insanity.

2010-08-12T22:02:00.001-07:00

THIS IS NOT SURFACE. THIS IS PAIN. AND THIS IS VERY REAL.

2010-08-07T15:53:00.000-07:00

Let the fires of hell come, I would go through them
I will do anything, but what I won't do is go away

Zombie Town

2010-08-07T11:43:00.000-07:00

I guess I am here now, in The City where Scum meets S.C.U.M. Fully aware that indeed this city never sleeps, it's hard to imagine that New York has a worse case of insomnia than I do. The stench of sadness is everywhere around me, I walk around without really looking where I'm heading, kicking the dirt in the street aside, clicking my heels on the pavement, head up strong, I feel like I'm about to choke, I am running out of breath. This can also be a very logical after effect from all the late night frenzies we've been having since I got here. The awful sewer smell, that disgusting water stench filling up my East Village appartment, that horrible stench is everywhere; in the water, in the walls, on the street, on my dirty floor and in my head. That mal'odour must have rubbed of on the skin-deep rats that live here. I think the inhabitants of this city must have evolved or, let's say devolved into having a inferior sense of smell; A small olfactory modality defect to protect themselves from smelling others like them from a far, because us mammals are nothing without instinct, if we can't smell dirt or detect danger from a far with our senses, we'd land rock bottom on the food chain in no time - we would continuously surround ourselves with rotten fruit and shout "this is enticing, the taste of new exotic!" and "messy, but tasty", we would eventually end up miserable, feeling sick and food poisoned, with the inevitable outcome; Death.

Everyone who I've just met here seems dull, nit-witted and deeply Empty. I'm afraid if I would stay here longer their uselessness might rub of on me. I stop to think and realize I'm still here, in this French Cafe on Prince street, listening to this Blonde chick who I've never met, speak. She has been entertaining me to sleep for ten minutes now, her conversation is a non-stop gossip monologue about probably much more interesting people than herself. I interrupt her, force a smile on one corner of my mouth, and I walk home on Avenue A. Happy to be gone from that boring bitch, I am now left with my own thoughts instead of hers. It took me just five seconds to switch back, and think of you. I've been walking alone here all week, sometimes with my beautiful french friend, who's always telling me stories, getting my mind off of you and on to hers. But now I'm walking here alone, and I'm nervous. I'm almost twitching, and I can't seem to focus right. Frantically, I look around on the streets, slightly afraid that I might see you, secretly hoping to bump in to you. I jump up from this brown steel table I'm leaning on every time I hear an accent similar to yours. I think it's you who's talking, run to the window and search hopelessly for you. Shamefully I am always mistaken, you are not there. With only a few blocks between us, I have never felt so far away from you. Every day I wake up smiling at the sun and welcoming another come down in East 4th street. I look in to the mirror at the creature that I've become. I'm absolutely repulsed by the choices I have made that have led me to where I am right now. In this mind-fuck of a city, I live in a perpetual nightmare that goes something like this; I'm trapped in a Lunar Park without doors, surrounded by sharp objects, hysterically loud laughing midgets, happy children running around, eating cotton candy, clowns with sad faces behind their plastered smiles, an ice cream truck passing back and forth playing creepy music, the green neon lights are flashing and everything is bright - I'm stuck in a numb state, totally lost and I keep running circles. I realize I'm stuck in a maze, I'm doomed.

I refuse to enjoy anything or anyone, because my eyes are wildely opened to see the point of it at all, which is absolutely none, added with a side of no satisfaction to go. There is no happiness, there is only a dream state of happiness. A fantasy, or fable if you will. A little tale that people have told us over the years, and we believe the legend, we eat that shit right up because this gives us meaning; So we go and search for it, in every corner, to have some sort of goal in our lives. And if you are lucky, you will find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, I have been one of those lucky ones already. It was only a brief moment <<Too Much, Too Soon >> Now it's all too little, too late. It was a buzz that I will now be stuck chasing for, for ever. A happiness so intense that it is indeed character defining, personality changing and most overwhelming. Life after pure bliss is just not the same. It's like there's an empty shell in your hand, but no bullet. A cigarette without a lighter. I'm contemplating if this is day or night? I'm still in Amsterdam mode, although I've been living during the night these last couple of months. Why can't I wake the fuck up from this dread? Worse became worst when I found out that I was dead to you, I would be one of them now, those zombies without morals, who live here who have nothing to contribute to this detested state of hate we live in. I think I might have caught this sickness too, this flesh eating disease that they all have here. You're the only real person that has affected me, or infected me. I feel a real sickness when I think about that I'm sitting here now, getting fucked up on chemicals, weed and empty purchases to feel better, and you - fucking up your liver to feel nothing - you . are . so . close. The fucking one who gave me this pain can take it away, you're the only one that has any meaning to me, even if I know you don't deserve a blink of the eye, or another word I will write, I know it's all a waste, but let me be that crazy, silly twelve year old right now and tell you that I'm still madly in love with you, sadly. It's not even lovely, to me it's a burden; A physical pain I carry with me every where like a hand bag. I have a hole in my body that is growing rapidly, expanding more every day. Soon that hole is going to grow so big that it will cover my whole body and consume me, I will disappear completely, to become as invisible as I already feel in this city; Let's try to live softly for a while.

Mayhem

2010-07-27T12:38:00.000-07:00

"All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human behavior must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape." Bret easton ellis - American Psycho

A confession I can relate to.

And if we don't burn together, I'll burn alone.

2010-07-27T12:34:00.001-07:00

"Got you. You're mine now. For the rest of the day, week, month, year, life. Have you guessed who I am? Sometimes I think you have. Sometimes when you're standing in a crowd I feel those sultry, dark eyes of yours stop on me. Are you too afraid to come up to me and let me know how you feel? I want to moan and writhe with you and I want to go up to you and kiss your mouth and pull you to me and say "I love you I love you I love you" while stripping. I want you so bad it stings. I want to kill the ugly girls that you're always with. Do you really like those boring, naive, coy, calculating girls or is it just for sex? The seeds of love have taken hold, and if we won't burn together, I'll burn alone." — Bret Easton Ellis (The Rules of Attraction)

you are not lost, you are here.

2010-07-27T06:04:00.000-07:00

and here's to another night of binging on everything that numbs me,
here's to my wasted friends who are in for a party every day
here's to bad energy. I want to be around it, endlessly
here's to being homeless soon
here's to booking overpriced plane tickets only to end up homeless again
here's to thinking I have a shot
here's to smoking buds out of the ashtray because the cigarettes are long gone
here's to another night crying at 6am looking at a screen
here's to 20 dolla bill thrillas
here's to telling the same story over and over, to any stranger who comes by
here's to that empty cold bed again, staring at me
here's to being intoxicated and feeling numb
here's to the nightmare that greets me when i wake up
here's to not waking up, and dreaming for ever
here's to the hate i feel every morning to start a new fucking day. alone
here's to another day of me wasting my time thinking about you,
here's to hanging on to something that is not there,
and here's to the demise of me, and to you for not giving .... a fuck
here's to no where

you're so cool.

2010-07-25T04:56:00.001-07:00

"All i could smell was the violence in the air, I look back and am amazed that my thoughts were so clear and true, three words went through my mind endlessly, repeating themselves like a broken record; you're so cool, you're so cool, you're so cool." - Alabama, from True Romance

float

2010-07-24T11:27:00.001-07:00

Soon I want to make a bonfire on the beach, we would drink overpriced champagne, go skinny dipping in the ocean, and swim until our limbs couldn't carry us up anymore. And we would lay there in the water, content and sleepy, drifting away further and further from shore, floating in the black liquid looking in to an endless darkness with a smile on our face.

not / the end

2010-07-24T11:01:00.001-07:00

You tricked me into loving you, where as every person I meet leaves me blank and dull, I am severely affected by you. And now that you left, I am thrown in to a cold turkey detox where I literally lock myself up in a room, shivering in my bed sweating heavily, worrying about meeting more pointless, good looking strangers, that I might fuck once in a while because I miss you. I am constantly being flown in to new places, a must to get out of this memory lane - your face is plastered on every touristic landmark here. Everywhere I go, with all the faces I talk to, I try to find a connection, searching for some sort of physical string that attaches me to someone else. And no matter what kind of glimpse of a feeling I might have everything will involve you in some way, because this house I live in is a constant reminder of you, you, you and me. Now it’s just me in an empty house.

I’ll flee again in a few days, hopping from city to city, where I will be too busy with the shape of an overpriced dress on a stick. Surface is my rescue right now. Anything else is dull, mind-fucking and over appreciated anyway

Call it like that

2010-07-24T10:59:00.000-07:00

I thought you were my friend. Well, I actually feel you were more than that, but above and beyond I thought you were my fucking friend. No, not just a friend who I was fucking, no, a fucking friend. I mean, a friendlier relationship with a stranger who you thought to be a like minded individual. A person who you have things in common with, someone you can stand to have a conversation with, someone who you can talk to, someone who you can share things with, things you don't just tell to everyone. I mean special things, hidden things, sad things, especially those sad things. and let me call it sadness, that disgust and anger. those raw emotions that consume you, you would want to share that with someone. i guess with someone who you like,..."And if you want to call that a friend, I would call it a friend".

So call me. Don't ignore like I'm some cockroach you just stepped on, spit on and decapitated. A headless person is a silent person. Just give me a sign of life once in a while. Pretend that you used to know me. Even if you already forgot you knew me. Or maybe not even knew me at all, pretend that you did. And that you cared, like you told me so many times. I should stop doing Silver Haze.

To mickey

2010-07-24T10:55:00.001-07:00

We are just kids who try to kidnap our youth, hold on to it desperately, squeezing it so tightly it's hard to breathe... we lock it up and throw away the key, and after a while, when we calm down, we realize we are who we always said we were, we had just forgotten, and closed our eyes for too long. This is when we freak out and know that we are completely lost. I thought my eyes were open, but they just might as well be closed.

So I'm in the same Thalys train that I'm always in when I go to Paris. Fast, comfy red seats and perfect service - unless, they intercom you in the middle of your journey and ask you to switch trains. We all just love having perfect journeys. Or adventures. Speaking of adventures, let me talk to you for a few seconds and tell you my story.
I just embarked on a wild ride heading to disaster, again. Never the less, this is just a story. And all stories come to an end, even the wildest ones. I look at my mac book pro and I notice it's already 10pm. Looking out through the round squared window I see a black landscape with on top a perfect fire red sky. The sun is about to set, and I'm looking at what could be the perfect setting for a mid forties battlefield. Anxiously awaiting what's going to happen outside, I secretly hope to see some tanks explode. I notice that I'm still wearing my fake Ray Bans I bought in Brick Lane, and wearing a black suit jacket with badly sewn gold buttons on it. I realize that I've been living out of the same suitcase for two weeks now. I need a whole new wardrobe. Next to me is no one except my messy camouflage eastpack. This could have been a great ride, a spectacular one even, if things had gone exactly according to plan. I have this gut feeling that this roller coaster ride is about to be over, but I'm still sitting here, desperately prolonging the journey. Run, run run, seems like this is all I've been doing for the past month. Quite the contrast with the safe place I was hiding in for the past ten years. Things never stay the same, do they? We would become bored and lose our mind if they did I guess. Right now I am losing myself in the moment, no questions asked, I'm talking hands down blind trust. This movie is not over yet, because I don't see any credits rolling in yet. So we go on, full throttle ahead towards something less spectacular, and we know it. What would be left to write about if your head is constantly in the clouds? You can't write so many interesting things about a sky, can you? Unless you want to go with writing poetry, but fuck that emo shit. I'm already on a slippery slope towards sadness. Pain is a motherfucker, but I never want to travel without it. I knew it in advance but I chose to ignore the signs and kept chasing that high I've so blissfully enjoyed before. We were supposed to travel together to paris, after a three-day bonnie and clyde frenzy through the streets of Amsterdam. But somehow he took a flight and I had to hijack this train. This train ride has been nothing than a sum up in my mind about all the shit we did these last couple of days. Literally, the "Shit" we did in Amsterdam, but also some nicer shit, such as holding hands twenty four seven, watching Bad Santa together, taking a boat tour, kissing on every corner of the street and inbetween, laying on our backs in the park looking at the sunny open sky, sleeping like kitties huddled up in the middle of the day, and all that cheesy stuff I never thought I'd ever do again. All these things were making me weak in the knees, unable to have a normal conversation without stuttering. It was official. I was hooked. This Clyde motherfucker had me smiling from dusk til dawn. My jaws all hurting and shit, not because of the coke addiction, but because for once in my life I'm actually happy. I look at the yellow and black bruises and scrapes all over my body, a sign of love according to him, and I know I'm ready for more. I'm about to enter Gare du Nord hoping that he will be there to pick me up. I feel lost on the station, and I look at all the couples getting out, I hate them all. I walk a long way, head up looking around to see if he's there. After a while I just give up and I know that it's pointless. Why am I even here? I should have just stayed home, or at least, at someone else's home, since I don't have a home anymore. Tears roll down my face and as I look up to look for the exit, I see his smiling face, arms wide open welcoming me to Paree. My loneliness just made room for a fire burning in my body. The train leaves the station. It seems like I've left this planet and ended up in another galaxy, here we go again, Fear and Loathing in Paris. As we're walking away, with imaginary shotguns swinging in our hands, I feel like I'm on top of the world, nothing or no one can touch us now, it's just us against the world, Mickey and Mallory all the way. Until we die and die and die again.

After a four day whirlwind tour through Paris I got an email from a guy that I had just met, hinting that my good friend has just "passed away" in Milan. Obviously this must have been some sort of practical joke, or a type error. Confused and slightly worried I call him. Voicemail. I think about the fact that I had just spoken to him on the phone yesterday night. I remember how awkward this conversation was and I thought he sounded very strange and quiet. I could barely even hear him...I walk back and forth through this matchstick box we call hotel room and call Sarah. She picks up the phone in tears, I sit down and I know. It's true. My friend really is dead. He jumped out of window from a five story balcony, killing himself. Thoughts and anger start to race and I just can't believe it. Still can't believe I will never see his smiling face again and I already miss hearing his funny english accent. Mickey is crying. He does believe it I guess. We all went to his place to celebrate the good times we had. In his honor. This whirlwind just turned in to a full blown storm, a supercell in the making if you will. For days the sun kept shining in Paris. At the same time there was a dark cloud hanging above us, and it was raining hard. We kept running, and getting lost, desperately looking for a place to take shelter. They completely turned around the script of our movie, and we lost our way. We were heading in to two different directions. He was drifting away and I tried to pull him closer. I knew he was a jerk the last couple of days, but I miss that jerk. He opened up his heart to me, let me take a look behind his mask, showing me his disgusting self image and ruined heart. He spoke to me about so many things that he wanted to change in his life and I listened to every word. I genuinely loved him from that moment on. Misery and all, I would be there for him for ever, because you know the only thing that kills the demon is love. He was surrounded by demons and I was prepared to exorcise every last one of them. I would be the one who would take care of him and drag him out of this dark hell hole he called life. Instead, we continued to make ourselves feel miserable, to keep ourselves intentionally low. We would walk separately, gazing at the strangers in the street and I would feel just as strange to him as those people, those people that he'd never even met. We were dead inside. I kept chasing that something we've felt before, I was so tired of feeling numb, and alone. I missed the rush we experienced together, the menace to society we inflicted so vigarously, those crazy discussions made me feel alive, finally someone who disagreed with me. I missed the comfortably sharing silence with each other, sleeping together, correction - spooning together, watching silly Youtube videos on the computer, literally, all of it. I still do. Here I am now, thinking about everything and trying to forget. You are in New York and I'm in mother fucking Amsterdam, the city that reminds me so much of you. Every day I go to bed at 6am totally wasted, because I'm afraid to sleep, afraid to wake up and start a new day in this empty house that isn't even mine. I have absolutely nothing to look forward to. I wonder if I will ever enjoy things again. I got our initials inked on my skin for the rest of my life. I hope that some day I will be back to my old mother fucking self again. An empty shell of a human being.

It was just a ride, and what a fucking ride it was.

love, xM.

forgotten

2009-07-09T18:48:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-06T02:12:00.000-07:00

Walk in Silence

2009-04-06T01:41:00.000-07:00

"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

2009-03-14T06:50:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-12T13:04:00.000-07:00

"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

2009-03-05T02:11:00.000-08:00

"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

2009-03-01T15:10:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-08T10:20:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-08T05:48:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-29T16:56:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-12T07:46:00.001-08:00

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?

2008-11-19T14:51:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-05T15:24:00.000-08:00

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

2008-10-28T15:50:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-19T16:17:00.001-07:00

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.

2008-10-18T02:18:00.000-07:00

Slum Village

2008-10-17T15:09:00.000-07:00

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...

2008-10-07T04:41:00.001-07:00

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

valuable time

2008-09-17T13:33:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-10T13:31:00.000-07:00

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"

never there

2008-09-02T15:48:00.000-07:00

touching the void,
everything is so hollow
am i invisible
can't face my way
this is it, wish you'd follow.
so unevolved,
yet i am trapped

you don't worry
if i turn and burn
i am aware
never truly awake,
the grasp is there
moments i wait for
will never come
never there,
where they ever?

passed a point
can not come back
hard ways at hand
made my bed,
anything to take it back
there's no denying
i tried my best
no more tragedies
never there
where they ever?

you suffer my happiness
a queen in masking misery,
always waiting
for an imaginary event
never there,
waiting forever

phoenix

2008-09-02T15:12:00.001-07:00

"you are all i need. i'm all the days you choose to ignore. just want to share your life. i only stick with you, because there are no others. you are all i need. i'm in the middle of your picture, lying in the reeds."

we are living through a wall,
so close but i am far,
what once was easy so forced now.
tonight, it seems like miles ahead before i am back
where is my destination,
our journey was unreal,
consuming me every day
a glow was your gift to me,
when did it leave?
make me feel
make me feel

take me back to the fire
we have been warned,
we are burned
a fast road once led us,
have we passed talking?
a flame under my hands,
burns on my skin,
should we sit and talk
this night should end,
i wake up tomorrow,
the flame still burns
wish i'd feel, light the fire
make me feel
make me feel

lucky number (twenty) seven

2008-08-25T00:04:00.000-07:00

today is my birthday. this is the year of opportunities, bravery and one or two psychological disorders. the year of unwritten stories, growing wisdown, and foolish thinking (or drinking?). the year of infatuation, love and hard decisions, the year of determination, doubt and foreign publications. the year of the muse, the book and of a rising star in the making. the year of New York, Paris and London, the year of experience, [i]free-living[/i], and destination: on the road. the year i walk alone, some strangers tag along, familiar faces i've known. and this is the year of magic, pride and unforeseen bitterness. the year of adventures, success and dressing the part. that of dusk and dawn and anything in between. a year of fashion, fatal heels and fake smiles. the camera flashes, the curtain falls, i am dancing my dreams to life.

another day, another shot.

departed

2008-08-17T08:32:00.000-07:00

I walk around for hours, my head's too heavy to carry, I keep counting the bricks on the road as I go along, keep balancing on a vertical line, following the path will guide me to sanity and back again.I see the same trees, bushes and dull houses, some tiresome folk to match, as I pass along in silence. This is not the time to doubt, the small things that are keeping me up at night will soon be forgotten instead of surpressed, as these stories of little importance and the people starring in them always become more futile after some time has past, preferrably in other surroundings. The rain has stopped falling as I was descending at similar speed. I look at my shadow covering the dirty pavement, a proof of existence, I am still here. I pass by a window and swiftly check my sideprofile, my body looks thinner than normal and I feel pleased for a minute. That feeling gets replaced with disgust fast when I look up and meet my face, I seem to have lost my clean (innocent) expression, instead I look at the dark circles under my eyes, greyish skin, the black gazing eyes look right into my gut and it frightens me. I shake it off, pretend I look good and walk, drift, ahead. I know there's only one thing left for me to do.
Leave.

I want to go soon, others may define that as 'running' away, but I am pretty sure I would walk, as running is too tiring, a heat of the moment sorta thing, something someone does when they are not really determined, which is in contrast with how I will go. I wouldn't take much stuff, just my cameras, a few pair of black jeans (do I even own other colors?) a couple of shirts, my mac book and a couple of other (bad) things to fill in the waiting 'gaps' I would be sure to encounter. I am heading to another town, another city, another country with other lives to hear about and finally a few new faces to look at. I could work as a photographer for the local papers and magazines, earn some money to buy rounds of drinks at night, polaroid film during the day, scouring the streets for hours on end looking for the next muse.

A flashback to the past I left behind, where I know the people are waiting for my return, I close my eyes and I inhale the smoke, no one would miss me if they could see my bad self living it and kicking it now. You don't understand, no one really does, just keep breathing out and in, day in day out, the same ways the same days. Without really thinking they - read: you - do what others want (no, expect) them to do, slowly turning into robotic, mechanical things who talk, Wall-E probably has more brain capacity than the average person. Fit in, smile every day and tuck in your shirts. Don't stray, don't do, don't think and don't cross the street diagonally. I need a break, or to break out, I've always managed to keep a tight lit on boredom as well as common ways. Looking out for new ways to spend my days, rare people to chat about the unfamiliar, unusual and strange things as we go along. I've learned in a short time that I am bound by my own actions, that I have absolutely no control about the future, always hitting me in the face with random difficulties,... but I am okay with that. I am not fucking afraid anymore. Whatever happens will happen when it does, so bring it on, I (think) I can take it.
In the meanwhile you can find me in your past, waiting on that corner in the middle of the night, I won't be there anymore, I have departed.

2008-08-14T11:22:00.000-07:00

Keep a light on those you love
They will be there when you die
there's no need to fear
there's no need to cry

Every little piece in your life will add up to one
Every little piece in your life will mean something to someone

mad

2008-08-12T02:17:00.000-07:00

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing" - Jack Kerouac

control the rain

2008-08-09T16:52:00.001-07:00

take control over my life,
and open my sleeping eyes,
awake and asleep, the same image reappears
keeping this inside
it grows into something vile
it eats away and it consumes
lost my reason, hope will go to

racing thoughts
i want to hide
would you be so kind to see
i'm at your side
you changed me, you don't mind
you sit there silent, i smile

rain keeps falling, i feel like i am too
stranger to my frustration
why not reach for my hand?
we share the silence, and an umbrella,
i walk away, to no mans land

"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.
Don't walk away, in silence,
Don't walk away. "

open the door

2008-08-09T05:02:00.000-07:00

time is moving forward
here I am frozen
this is where I stand,
people pass me by
unable to see me
they lock their doors
and live their lives
i am growing and aging
where can i hide?
the time when i was young
closing my eyes
i run towards everyone
now what am i running from?

these days

2008-08-09T04:16:00.000-07:00

this is the start of it all
like the dawn you live in a dream
we can not breathe without
so close then, now that moment is gone
i take this burden when i am alone,
so safe and lost
i feel the hope is gone

a time of waste
wash away this bitter taste
now i have come to terms
the morning can not come

no sense of loss
you go on in your chamber
the walls are imposing
i wish you did the same
i am going further away
we don't touch like we used to
the same space at the same pace

i suffer this loss and live like there's joy,
where have we lost
i wish you could feel the same
a sense of reality
i always look at you
the sadness that you are absent

a time of waste
wash away this bitter taste
now i have come to terms
the morning comes

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are
All I can feel - the cure

When it rains, it pours

2008-07-08T04:58:00.000-07:00

"Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets."

I think it's time I started writing again. You can thank some godforsaken, however beautiful, pradaboy for this, I must admit, I was inspired to actually write something proper again. This weather may have been the first sign of something real again, it's like the reality has been kicking at my door and suddenly burst, not through the door, but came down hard from the sky. Rain is a symbol of cleanliness, it washes away the dirt, and the sins and all that is naturally not right, i guess. Maybe this is a good thing, I am sitting here alone at my cool little mac, staring at the beautiful kids on the screen, looking outside at an empty street, it mirrors the world, outside my window is where the real world is, I think it's time to shut the blinds again, wait it's too early for some wine, is it?... Everything is flooded. I have been running around in circles for the last couple of months and working so much, I chose not to think. This is when I thrive, this is when I am in the best state of mind, the state of numbness. Every day was different from the next, you never knew what would hit you, now everything seems so silent and calm, and this is leaving me anxious, fuck, it can't just be me, i don't know what to do with all this time on my hands. Living the dream leaves you sometimes begging for structure and normal, petty things. Reality is that dreams are not always worth considering, let alone making them come true. If you work hard you will fullfill all of them, i am a perfect example of this. But trust me, when you have reached those highs - that many only wish they could get a glimpse of - it's hard to come down from the cloud, and the lows (read: normal days for normal people) just make you fucking depressed.

I have been shooting so much lately, I'm at my best being a photographer, a documentary maker. Lately I have been documenting young guys and girls, models, kids who have everything going for them. They still have that sparkle in their eyes, hope if you want to call it. I think I have that sparkle too, but only when everything is going exactly how I want it to be. Looking at all this from a distance, the distance becomes real and it does get you lonely sometimes, especially when there's nothing that can satisfy you more than success. I stare at them, from the outside trying to look in, and it's all fucking fantastic, but also very tiring. Not because they are so different, or young, or exciting, and full of life. Because you've been there, you were them, and you want to go back to that. I am okay with being a bit shallow, if you want to call me that. Don't worry i do get sick of it also, the empty words and plastic layers are sometimes so thick, it sometimes feels like i am suffocated by it. Is it something that comes with the job, in this small society, where everyone talks about each other, but no one really says anything? I can't get used to unjustice, but I believe in karma, and I also believe in myself and you can't rip that away with just a few stories about me, I do admire your guts though. It must be hard to look in the mirror, if you are living a lie, no? It's all one big acid trip that I am a playing a part in, I am tired of just 'a' part, fuck it, I am going to take the lead soon. But first, I need, no, I neeeeeed a trip, a journey to another city, another gloomy view from my window. I need a change, and it has too come quick, because this is all too familiar, and we all know that familiarity - something you get used to - is not something I do well.

"Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape... My life has taken another turn again. The days can go on with regularity over and over, one day indistinguishable from the next. A long continuous chain. Then suddenly, there is a change. " - Travis Bickle, Taxi Driver