The Lights Are Much Brighter There (FoSho.)

This day rather sucks. There's a thousand things I should do, but don't. There's a million things that I want to want, but don't. There are things I could do to get warm, that are not going to happen, & ways for me to feel better, if I could just find the energy to kick my own ass & get started. There are bags to finish, book covers to design, songs to sing, words to knit sentences of, plans to make & letters to write - there are even cakes to bake.

I'll probably end up sitting here staring at the walls all night, deciding to simply stay out of the argument while my heart & head debate aggressively.

You know what, no. I won't take this shit anymore. It's about goddamn time the two of them settled down & came to an agreement in this Wednesday-night-depression bussiness! Are we down or not? I'm sure as hell not wasting more time on it.

Dear Dee, go get yourself some more caffeine. Dear Head, listen up now. Poor Heart, just breath deep, & get a sense of this:

(the lights are much brighter there)

(the beer much cheaper)

(& the men much groovier.)

& until then, some pretty thoughts:

(a pretty bird)

(a pretty tree in bloom)

(a pretty band)

(a pretty dirty love)

(& a pretty clean one.)

(a pretty man to run into on the street - & take with you home.)

(oh, & look! Here's a picture of Johnny Depp as an Indian holding a duck.)

Are we feeling better now?

In fact we are. I'd say Johnny did the job. I think I'll get that picture printed & carry it around in my wallet, for emergency cases of sudden depression.

(My heart & my head agrees that's a good idea.)

Song of the day: ‘If You Got the Money’ - Jamie T. ‘Wondering why you can’t eat, why you never sleep, why you’re drunk all the time & cold in the heat - ‘cause what you sow man is what you reap.’ Rocks my socks off - hurry up & listen to it here.

Quote of the day, a.k.a. the mantra of my life (as seen on a post card in Boystown):

'When life hands you lemons - just add vodka.' Or, as today has taugth us - Johnny Depp in a Native American headdress.

l'hove

d.

Dear Boy-Next-Door (I miss you.)

I dreamt of you again last night. It’s been awhile since last time, & it’s always somewhat out of the blue. Unexpected, but familiar - as if my subconscious notice when you’re fading, & is making sure I won’t forget about you. There was a reunion. There were kids running around, old friends & new friends, lovers & haters & soda in red plastic cups, teachers trying to keep the wild ones at stake. There were pony-tails & bicycles & boys tearing heads off of crying girls’ dolls, & in the middle of all the mess, there was you.

As usually I didn’t dear to walk up to you, out of fear it would make you embarrassed, or shy, as it might be uncomfortable after all of these years, & I wouldn’t know what to say anyways. Probably something you’d find very strange, & then the look on your face would make me laugh & that would make you laugh & it would end as it always did, with you shaking your head & mumbling something concerning insanity &/or me. So I didn’t, but I smiled & waved at you, & I think I saw you returning the smile.

Of all the little boys & girls from different times, different ages & situations, it was but you & me that had grown. You are a young man now, I am a woman, & in my dreams it seems this realization always catches us off guard. Yes, you were my first love, the boy next door who always knew how to put a smile on my face, but we were kids. I loved you because you always knew what to say. Because you could climb to the highest branch of the tree, eat gross amounts of ice cream, & because you were never mean to me.

We are not who we used to be, & I know that we don’t know each other any more - maybe we never truly did. But I think you did care about me, despite all our differences I really think you did. Though you never said, & we never spoke of such things, or whatever lay ahead, I could tell you felt it too. We grew up together. Then we grew apart.

You kissed me once in a dream. It was all very confusing, & I bet you’d tease me if you ever found out. But it wasn’t unpleasant altogether, or at all for that matter. Sometimes I feel as if someone is trying to tell me our story isn’t finished yet. As if a significant part still awaits to blow our minds away.

All I’m trying to say is: I miss you still, as I probably always will be, & I’m thinking about you tonight. Where you are, what you are doing these days, how you are coping with life. If I ever happen to cross your mind. The dead flat fishes, the basket field, the spring nights playing by the swings - remember? While lending out your jacket, pulling someone’s hair or giving away trees - do you ever think of me then?

Where ever you are, be well, be happy. I’d contact you, but if you’re a man anything like the boy you once were, there’s not much of a point. You wouldn’t write me back, it’s not something you’d ever imagine to do. You’d explain to your friends how you don’t know me anymore. Laugh & tell them how strange I always were. Redheads, you know. That speach. Remember the post card I sent you for Christmas a few years ago? I wished you a happy life. Told you that I missed you. Wondered where you’d gone. It’s ok, I know you’ve got your cool. There’re things you can’t do. I guess it’s your way of avoiding the embarrassment of not knowing what to say, or how to say it.

What you don’t know is I met your best friend at a party just a little while after that, or that he told me about your reaction to it.

How you smiled for days, talked about if for weeks.

Oh, Silly Boy.

Just promise me you’ll remember my name. That you won’t forget my face, the color of my hair or the freckles on my knees.

I’m sure we’ll run into each other one day, when we’re both ready for round II in the history of me & you. & until then;

Love

of the bottomless kind
that only kids know everything of

/ Mickis

Countdown Boystown

Here’s what’s making me smile today:

Flight: AF1751
From: CPH, Copenhagen, DENMARK
Departing: March 15, 2007 10:10
To: Charles de Gaulle, Paris, FRANCE
Arriving: March 15, 2007 12:10

Status: Confirmed

Flight: AF050
From: Charles de Gaulle, Paris, FRANCE
Departing: March 15, 2007 13:15
To: O'Hare Intl, Chicago, USA
Arriving: March 15, 2007 16:35


Status: Confirmed

The details have to be resolved later, as I'm sure they will. But this finally allowed me to realize just how much I've missed this:

& it had me crying in the shower. Big wet happy tears of miss & relief & a whole lot of other feelings I just wasn't able to extract from the mess. That's a great place to cry, anyway, the shower. It's just not that big of a deal somehow, a few tears when you're being completely covered from head to toe in other little drops of water. That's become one of my favorite moments of the week, the Sunday shower. Just me & my thoughts & my (thanks to Hillary) coffee cup Jesus. Getting reheated. Rehydrated. Recaffienated & re-calmed. (Yes I know, now I'm just making up words as I go. The priveledge of the non-native speaker.) For, as the song goes: 'Winter just wastn't my season', & with every Sunday shower, we're leaving it all a little further behind, as spring takes another little step in our direction.


Now, if you'd excuse me dear ones, I have adventures to plan & pack lists to write.

Song of the day: 'Mx Missiles' - Andrew Bird. 'Are you made of calium or are you carbon based - Cause if your made of calium I'll have to take a taste.'

Quote of the day is from 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' by Douglas Adams:


’Ford had his own code of ethics. It wasn't much of one, but it was his and he stuck by it, more or less. One rule he made was never to buy his own drinks. He wasn't sure if that counted as an ethic, but you have to go with what you've got. '



Now there's a moral principle I might just be able to pull off. You have to go with what you've got.


Yes.

What I've got: No money & a taste for wine &/or Sidecars.




oh, & as of today - tickets to Chicago. So, all you gorgeous Illinoians out there, if you feel like helping me keep my morals up, or happen to be driving down to Tennessee come end of March & wouldn't mind some gorgeous company - call me.




Love & suitcases of coffee...

// me.

On Beauty [& being right.]

Another night in loneliness, another
quiet wait

for yet another late late date , well Mr.
Rest,

you know you’d best
come to understand;

I am tinningly tired
of being undesired, I am [big, bold] : bored

with being ignored, & how it’s damn right time

for a trip to the fairyland.

Another night in solitude, there’s not
even any stars

to tell me tales of chewed off bones,
or scars written in cobblestones,

not even the newest of
the many moons

to put me in that
poppling ‘post afternoons in the shades
of the blooming magnolias’ mood.

You & I are a hundred new nights
from picking up right
where we should’ve just continued

with what we did truer
than any duet ever have;

glued rights over wrongs, drew lies in the
sand, sang blankets to warm
the broken hearted, screwed danger
apart

& wrote songs in the hands of strangers;

babe, in just a hundred nights or less
when my longitude answers to a whole new address

& we once again breath at the same altitude

let’s devote spring oh’7
to exploring everything

between the
backdoors of hell

& the front doors of heaven;

learn to spell ‘delude’

by letters we can find
in what we once valued

with sips of post-it-scribbled truth
tattooed to hips

& fingertips -
let’s watch our minds grow

to their full amplitude.

Long Distanced Recalls & Postal Serviced Love; A Year After

Today someone had me thinking about loneliness, & what it does to you. Denses thoughts, opens eyes, brings the mind simultaneously closer to the clouds & further from the sky. The sensation of floating like an island, walking streets that are no longer strange to your view or the soles of your shoes, but still does not belong truly to your heart. It takes time to change addresses, but I have no doubt it's good for us. It teaches us a good deal about the world surrounding us, & even more about ourselves.

There's much good in being on your own. You grow stronger, prouder & safer in your beliefs, your questions & answers, your wishes & hopes. But there are things to be lost too, there is always a chance of losing parts of you forever in that dreadfully dark void of caring, of warmth between friends, of conversations so well treaded they walk for themselves. It is a lesson everyone must learn, to be independent. But truth is we need each other. Once you've got the selfreliance-thing down, there's really not that much need for it any longer.

The world is tearig us all apart these days. Many friendships are not made to last over oceans & borders unto new realities in a different spot on this our colorful earth. At least not the way they once were. Poeple change, relationships follow. It's just the way things go. Gotta follow 'em dreams people, no matter where they take you. But it doesn't mean there isn't room for missing, for keeping those memories safe & warm.

Who knows, maybe ten years from now we'll bump into each other at Inkonst, & you can buy me a beer or two.


Here's to old times; a poem from February of last year:

Long Distanced Recalls & Postal Serviced Love [I don't believe in mending]

There are things aiming for
my chest

tonight

monsters & potential futures &
scares, precious illusions

but mostly love

of the kind I feel
fortunate to have.

This is hushed piano plunking place, this is
an atmosphere filled with
blue tunes

lulling me to light lied conclusions &

threatening to break my ribs
one by one.

It's the inexpressible that makes the
most sense tonight

my words are taking me nowhere now

as I think that the
indefinable of us is

what's
holding the rooftops
of our worlds up.

What I can't say & what I must
tell you

form the truest part of me.

It's a huge world for

such a small range of 'love yous'
sometimes.

& the only thing we've got
is time,

apart

you'll be far away

I'll be having things to say; lacking
ways of how to

it's all about the choices we make.

Long distance recalls & postal
serviced love
never seem to be able to
keep the
warmth of your hands

those very last miles, &

separated by so many walls the
air between us is more of a haze

of rain & pollution, other
people's thoughts

making it so hard for me to get through to
you

or you to sense my trying to.

Please don't forget about me before you
go, or let my running shadow cast
shades over

what we used to have

& please don't think that I would
ever forget
about you

exchange you for 'big-world'-cries, 'make-
it'-lies

(I carry you around in the back pocket of my
heart.)

please do know that my goodbyes mean
only that I can not stay

& not that I'm leaving

you

to rot with yesterday.

True miss comes in more colours than
the rainbow.

& these shoes always halfway out the
closest door means

ruthlessly leaving behind
the ones with tired legs

sore feet or

no naivety left
to ignore the road bound bore

forget the blisters, prevent the
downpour with.

I'm not afraid of the world anymore

yet I've never been
more scared

than this before.

(& if I'm causing your crying, know that
I've done my share

of spilling too, & that there's a
special place for
air dried tears

about
love bound cares &
world dares

somewhere between our hearts & our sanities.

A clear blue pound of
spare causes

if we ever run out or

find ourselves in times of
doubt.)

There're so many ways to get
broken

& I don't believe in mending

or the weight of things
that can be clearly outspoken.

She trusts in mistakes already made whilst

I am all about
the ones ahead

letting old failures fade in the
shades of childhood

listening to circles &
following lines

rain cloud sunshines

instead of
'this-way'-signs.

---------

Foto by Mathieu, a friend from Paris.

-------------


Smile darlings, life has just begun.

d.

Dee vs. Deadly Flu, Round II

I don't seem to be able to shake this disease, no matter what. Had a bad day & have now settled myself in bed with a dozen pillows, a couple of blankets & a cup of hot vegetable broth - Sister Hill's order. It's eight o'clock on a Saturday night, & I actually feel relieved there's fourty kilometers & half a storm between me & civilization. I wouldn't hold for a party today, I'd most certain break in two.

Anyway, whilst clothers are getting changed, make up applied, hair fixed & drinks are starting to get consumed out there, here's the only thing I truly yearn for tonight:

Every DIY-princess' dream. These beautiful coffee cup pincushions by Betz White can be found at Cut+Paste, for $32.00 - I'm just completely & utterly in love. The end.

Time for recreation.

'Nighty night, party people of the world. Remember; somewhere in the world the sun is rising over yet another hung over sunday morning. Don't throw up tonight.


d.

We're All Just a Bunch of Soft Trees

Oh, I have not been well. I have been sicker than an ill dog. Pity me please, for I believe I have deserved it. It's true what they say though, that you can't get sicker than dead, & I'm not dead yet so I'll stop wining right about now.

My room is the new heaven on earth, by the way. With Diane always close at hand I can now write whenever I feel I have to, without having to relay on unreadable scribbling of untraceable thoughts. It gets so bad, it's not even to be considered code any longer. If I could just remember what it is I'm trying to say, I'd be of some serious use / damage for NSA & its worldwide friends. (Yes, I do believe everything I read. So what.)

& if Diane & her monsterous amounts of possibilities wasn't enough, I just moved my new sewing machine upstairs too. This means A) that I can now sew on any hour of the day (read; night) & B) that whenever I feel down I can just glance over at my desk & there she is in all her shininess & glory, my pretty Husqvarna VIKING. & then there's the music. Oh, & all the books my Granny donated to my poor students library recently; Lagerkvist & Strindberg & Marques & Conrad & a whole bunch of other old, fascinating men. There's nothing better than a book that smells of dust & ink when you open it. I'm telling you: My room rocks. If it weren't for the world being so great too I bet I'd never get out of here.

It is a great world though, isn't it. Yeah, who am I kidding, I'd never be able to stay away. There's just too much world to see, you know? Too many roads to check the other end on.

I saw 'What Remains' today, a documentary on photographer Sally Mann. Truly, to me there's nothing more inspiring as someone who sees the world through their own eyes. I fell in love, not only with the amazing pictures, but with the woman herself. Her life, I guess, to some extent. Living on a pretty farm with the love of her universe, beautiful children, creating art that said something, made people think. She's managed three out of three; the love, the crazy-cat-lady-in-the-middle-of-nowhere & the making a difference. Every time I find a new hero it leaves me with this perfect feeling of surrender; how there's too much to find inside the borders of this world for one to ever say one truly knows anything, except the fact that one doesn't. We gather impressions, we believe, we assume, & we think. We then ground our spheres on the beliefs we've found, which makes some worlds as fragile as a house of cards, whilst others stand steadily enough to endure the storms tenfold.

Photo by Sally Mann, from 'Deep South' exhibition.

As long as the base is rock solid, there's room in this life to sprawl in every direction imaginable. You know, we're not that different from the trees after all. I'm aware I've been known to say love is what makes this world go round. I've changed my mind though. Really, it's growing pains, & how we deal with it. I must say though, I was on the right track, only love is just a small part of the picture.

Growing pains. I write poems, drink too much coffee & run away frequently. How do you deal with yours?

Quote of the day is from Alice in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll:

'Alice: Would you tell me, please,

which way I ought to go from here?

The Cat: That depens a good deal

on where you want to get to.

Alice: I don't much care where.

The Cat: Then it doesn't much matter which way you go.

Alice: ... so long as I get somewhere.

The Cat: Oh, you're sure to do that,

if you only walk long enough.

'Then it doesn't much matter where you go.' I can't wait for another over seas adventure. This time I'm just gonna follow my heart & see where I might end up. Love's a map as good as any. Better, in fact, than most, because love knows no dead ends. To quote a dear, dear friend of mine; Janis Adler: 'Every direction there is, is in the palm of your hand.'

I'm not sure she knows how right she is.

True miss comes in moe colors than the rainbow, the prettiest memories never fit in boxes.

Oh & the song of the fucking week, a song that just might make me religious: 'God Rests in Reason', by Jason Mraz. Hear the master of words tell us all about what he makes of the word 'direction'.

Here's how I see it: Trees know not directions, only open spaces & ways to grow. Make sure you never cease the learning.

We're all just a bunch of soft trees anyways.

Love & happy growth

/ me.

On Wanderlust, Wonderlands & Wunderbaums (I'm Gonna Go Do Nothing in Another Town)

Dear Reality

This made me happy today: I found a new English word to add to my collection; wanderlust. I can think of no better to describe the state I'm in. Thank you Mr. Mraz - yet again - for enriching my vocabulary on a semi-regular basis.

I appreciate it.

Today I've been walking around completely in my own world, & I do appologise for any inconveniences you might have suffered in beeing in contact with me - or trying to be. There are good times & there are bad times for those asking for my attention, & today has been a near lost cause. Once & for all: I am not deliberately ignoring you. It's just, sometimes when Earth is calling me, I take the liberty of not picking up the phone. My thoughts ride no trains, awaits no late buses; they hail a cab & get going.

Oh dear life, how I love thee & thy vagueness. So many turns events can take, even on the slowest of afternoons, so many 'pick-your-own-colours'-situations, & not a chance in hell to ever figure out all of your options. The palette remains hidden behind lights too bright to study closely, & here's where most people choose to play after known chords. This is where I start talking about limitations & restrictions & such in direct relation to certain colorful expressions, or bring out my most refined illustrations; I have been known to scream Badly Drawn Boy references in people's faces. The grand opening of my feed-your-imagination-lecture. This also happens to be where most people stop listening.

Please don't. What I'm trying to say is: Our minds bear no borders. We were all born without doubt, & our fantasies knows nothing of tight budgets or compromises. We will never fully grasp the millions of paths our life did not take, and that's not neccessarily a bad thing. But there's an equally enormous amount of roads waiting to open up in front of us. Don't miss the exits just because no one's taken them before, or because little men in working suits haven't put up a blinking neon arrow yet. 'Next Exit Wonderland.' I wouldn't bet money on the existance of that sign if I were you.

So many dazzling possibilities if we ignore the fact that we have no idea where to look! So many combinations of coincidences in the fish bowl that is my mind! Give me three seconds & everything is new again. Oh, such quantities of daydreams, so ridiculously little time. Go ahead! Mix & match & blend until you have a brand new chance in front of you. Write your own odds.

Wanderlust. The exsistance of potential Wonderlands, and the adventures awaiting us on the road to nowhere special. Wanderlust. In my head I've invented rock-n-roll, been fluento en el español, danced with the devil to save my soul, I've smoked with Rand McNally on the North Pole. Ripped the word 'never' in a thousand little pieces.

Last night in my head love gave me one of these & asked me to be his forever:

I told him, I told him: 'Love', I said, 'there's no one else for me.'

& then I finally fell asleep. Signs points to there being such a thing as 'too much caffeein', even for me.

Song of the Day: Bob Schneider - 'The Way Life Is Supposed to Be'. Find the magic [here].


Quote of the Day is by British poet T.L. Beddoes:

'If there were dreams to sell,

merry and sad to tell,

& the crier rung the bell,

what would you buy?'

Just figure out what you would buy, & then see where it takes you. I'd definitely buy this beauty:

& then we could all run away, you & you & you & me, & with so much world left to see, we could be driving around all day.

What do you say? We should probably get a globe, so that we know what time the sun rises. Oh, & we need to get one of these too:

I say the pink one. I don't know anything I'd rather have my car smell of than watermelon. Why they would even bother to make other scents is beyond me.

Ah, the wonders of modern life.

Peace ya'll.

d.

Two's a Movement, Three's a Revolution

When God Moves Through You

& babe regardless what I think, put my
faith in, can believe

I know God
moves through you

like wind through leaves, like love
moves through lives,

divine
moves through you

like sunshine moves through closed clouds

your faith moves
through crowds & air, crosses borders &
shorelines & nowheres 'til

it gets here, love


has kept us near



[...]

through distance & miss
our every word's a prayer, every
smile a promise

of
how there's still love to be found
of the kind that makes the world go round, every

recollection confirmation of our bliss

telling me this: God
moves through
you

the same way great
love moves through small lives, how we
must not forget

that something strong enough
to mend a broken heart

as easily rives it apart,

when there are
things large enough

to tie ribbons through a thousand stranger's
dreams with, knit

webs of golden strings as
graspable

as starshine & sunbeams, remember
then babe; when

Grace moves
you

like love moves lives or
snow moves
the open spaces, when

God moves through you


I can feel it too.


-------

Today I'm thinking about Faith, & how it truly is a beautiful thing. The way it makes people stronger, braver, kinder, safer - how it makes us simultaneously more clear-thinking & blinder, & how I haven't really made my mind up yet as to if that is for better or worse. Either way the fact that there's actually people with complete belief - regardless in what - never ceases to fascinate me. I admire them truly, the ones that has managed to free themselves from all doubt. I imagine it makes life easier, in the same way it must make broadmindedness harder. But then again, what do I know.

I have, however, decided upon trying. From now on I will allow myself to put my trust in what I believe in, & I believe in love. I believe it's what makes the world go round, & I'm a 100% certain it leaves a thousand little wonders in its' traces every day. I'm tired of being cynical & dubious. You gain nothing from playing safe, & though we might think there's a way to keep our hearts protected, we'll just end up with a crushing sensation of not having dared to truly live. I say it, & I say it now:

Do it.

Join me in another revolt of love. Yes, it is 'hippie crap'. Yes it is naive & silly & yes it's been done before. But in the past, has it been done well enough? Join me in a revolution with nothing more complicated in its' manifest than daring to believe in love, to acknowledge the beauty in a phonecall, a friend stopping by or just the sensation of thinking of someone you hold dear. Remember to appreciate the golden instead of focusing on the cold, & take the risk to recognise all those things for what they really are - everyday magic. Smile at the bus driver, wave at the sun. It seems to me we don't even see the miracles any more unless they jump up & bite us in an ear, a lip or something equally unexpected.

It makes me sad.

So, no more. Let's make 'oh 7 the most loving, caring, high-flying, truth-daring year thus far, let's do this the way we're meant to. I want to hear you say you're on my team. See, it only takes two to tango, three to twist & four to form a superhero club. It's a revolution if we say it is.

Two's a movement, three's a revolution.

Song of the day: The Stranglers - 'Golden Brown' [texture like sun].

Quote of the day is an argument I definitely wish we'll end up having one day:

Ross: 'Chandler entered a Vanilla Ice look-alike contest and won!'

Chandler: 'Ross came fourth and cried!!'

I'd cry too, no doubt about it. Oh, and by the way, I would very much like to live here:

Please, Mr. Nashvillian Musican. Go to Europe in April/May instead of Dec/Jan. I'd take good care of your room & those 'four other male musician roommates' of yours. Water your plants, sing for your walls, make your bed smell of Stella & Luckies. Maybe even get a kitten & name it Peggy Sue.

Please?

Must Do in Tennessee (Edition 1.0)

1. Return to Pancake Pantry
2. Find '757 Bresslyn, at Davidson'

Alright dears, that's it for tonight. I have a bag for Diane that needs my love & attention. Sleep well, dream tight & don't forget - love's the new black. The hippie crap is back. This spring we wear our hearts on our sleeves. (Let's make it as easy as we can for the acquaintance-thieves.)

d.

The Best Things in Life Are Free

So they say you cannot buy happiness. They say you cannot buy love. I say, is that really the point? Some things you love you can buy, some things you buy you happen to love. & what's buying have to do with anything when most things you love you love for the memories anyways. Sometimes it's the giver that makes the object worth more than you can even say out loud, other times it's the stories around it. The prettiest things in life are free, or so the happy people keep telling me. & they're right, but what most of the pretentious idiots don't realize is that that category - naturally - includes gifts.

You know, my birthday happens to be coming up.

Alright, not the point. What I'm trying to say is; Give me a handwritten letter, a photograph, give me a plastic engagement ring or a piece of gum. But in this uncertain world, in this time of our lives when dreams are leading us all in different directions, I'd love to have something to remember you by. There's been good times. There's been bad. & there's been an incredible amount of love.

Let's be thankful for the great moments so far. Time's one crazy bastard, isn't it? I mean, there's so much of it, yet every year the world seem to spin a little faster. Let's hope what's to come will kick past's ass. Remember what that guy with the hat & the cane & the black & white suit said?

- 'I guess what I'm saying is, we gotta look for the signs. But gotta follow 'em too when we find 'em.'

The prettiest things in life are free, or they are to me anyways.

Oh, & if you run out of ideas, here's a few things to die for:

Nothing says love like pretty caffein.

The most beautiful bag in the world is from Anthropologie.

I do hope he comes with a guitar.

When I grow up I'm gonna be a gangster.

Or a bare-feeted street musician.

Adorable.

Amazing jewlery from Urban Outfitters.

Of all the ways of avoiding disaster, striding away in a great pair of boots is definitely my favorite.

I am.

Peace, love & branding.

d.

Life, Love, & All the Little Details

Hey lovers.

It's Saturday night & I've barricaded myself in my room to try and find some peace of mind. What a wonderful expression that is by the way; 'Peace of Mind'. Not piece of mind, or - as I thought for years - peace of mine, but Peace of Mind. What a perfect state to be in, wether it's a short truce between those fighting thoughts (& thoughts fight dirty, I tell you) or a long-term settlement in that ongoing conflict in the soul vs. body matter. It presumes that the mind is a battlefield, & any saying carrying that amount of wisedom, you cannot but love.

In any case, it's pretty much all I can hope for right now. I had the prettiest dream ever to invade my messy head, this fucked up bloodstream of mine a few nights ago. I dreamt I met love, real love fairy-tale style, just when I thought I'd lost all my faith in this waiting-waiting-then-waiting-some-more-game life & I are playing. It was to true; free of fear, free of sorrow or doubt, just love - simple & pure & worth it all. I met love, & he chose me. He chose me. Now I'm left wishing I'd never woken up. What's better than meeting the man of your dreams...? - Not meeting him in your dreams.

Love actually looked a lot like Jason Mraz

Peace of Mind. Acceptance of the present. To see beauty in dirt. I'm learning slowly.

Arabic: هُدوء عَقْلي، راحَة ضَمير Czech: klid duše Danish: ro i sindet Dutch: gemoedsrust Estonian: meelerahu English: Peace of Mind Finnish: mielenrauha French: tranquillité d'esprit German: die Seelenruhe Greek: ψυχική ηρεμία Hungarian: lelki nyugalom Icelandic: hugarró Indonesian: ketenteraman jiwa Italian: tranquillità d'animo Latvian: sirdsmiers, dvēseles miers Lithuanian: dvasios ramybė Norwegian: sinnsro, sjelefred Polish: spokój ducha Portuguese (Brazil): paz de espírito Portuguese (Portugal): paz de espírito Romanian: linişte sufletească Russian: душевный покой Slovak: pokoj duše Slovenian: dušni mir Spanish: tranquilidad de espíritu, serenidad Swedish: sinnesfrid Turkish: huzur

Just pick one, right? Keep it close to your heart, keep it in mind. I just love how that works; the heart / brain cooporation. How they argue, fight, but in the end so bravely look after each other. Whenever my heart is hurting itself, my head steps in to clean up the mess, & if my head gets too dusty, my heart is there to tell it to get over itself.

We make a great team, the three of us.

My new project is to make a pretty bag for Diane. It's her & me now, & I want her to be comfortable when we set out to discover the world. I don't think I've ever loved any electronic equipment in this passionate way, & this from a woman who's iPod's name is 'Robert Zengovski'.

I clearly did not have to tell you that.

My coffee is cold now, eventhough I have the best coffeecup in the whole world. Trust someone who really knows me & sure as hell loves me to give me one you can even bring in the shower. I did by the way, which helped keep it warm even longer. But eventually the cold of my room got to it. The coffee is cold, that means it's time to sleep.

My own, private Saviour. I call him Jesus.(Mine's prettier, but you get the idea.)

Dose of the day: Not enough to keep me up any longer.

Song of the Day: 'Good Song' - Salem Al Fakir. Get a taste of the sunshine [here].

Quote of the day is despite its beauty, actually the words of Nietzche: 'There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.'

Conclusion of the day: Though I seem to lack both love & reason at the moment, I take comfort in knowing I at least have plenty of the madness thingy... 'Start with what you have & then work from there' is what my Momma used to tell me.

Sleep tight darlings. I know I will.

d.

Any Given Rainy Thursday

Today's Thursday, right? Thursdays are the April of the week. Rainy. Grey. About as exciting as a weather report, & slooow, sloooow, slooooow. The kind of day that's dripping from the walls, floating silently all around your coffee cup. I was bored. & so I thought to myself, I thought: This will not do. This Thursday I will not waste. So I did what I could.

I wrote subtle love letters at work.

I made imaginary clementine friends. Then I ate them.
Here's 'Noel Gallagher'.

I designed a logo for 'Mbeba Ink.', Ace's & mine new project.

On my coffee break I went on a daydream-date with Mr Mayer.

& I wrote a letter to my Martini Queenies in Chicago.

Oh, & just for the hell of it, I counted the amount of coffee we've made at work today. At four o'clock, I was at 30 cups. This company has: 2 employees, & a healthy caffeeinated glow to it.


Song of the day: 'Watch Your Step' - Juvelen. H-H-H-Hot! Listen to it [here].


Quote of the day is from the Family Guy episode 'Stewie Griffin - The Untold Story', when Brian & Stewie are playing Pacman drunk at the bar:

Brian: Get, get the fruit. It's more points. Get the fruit.
Stewie: I'm not gonna get the fruit.
Brian: Get the fruit.
Stewie: I'm not gonna... I can't get the fruit.
Brian: Get the fruit.
Stewie: I'm not gonna... I'm not gonna get the fruit there's a ghost right there!


--------



It's been raining all day, & it made me think of that day in Paris when it didn't stop all day & night. I was sitting in the large window of our small studio appartment, drinking tea & writing.



Curled Up, Feeling Right (It rains in Paris tonight.)



The sound of rain always
makes me feel
ready for anything

that this world might
bring
my way

& so sheltered, covered
head to toe

in treads of thoughts forming
spider web patterns of

fine golden string

all over me & my
little world

curled up / feeling right

'one-piece'-sensation.

Teacup-blanket-staring out of
weary windows, washing all my

angst away whilst
watching everything turn two shades
darker & three times
thinner,

nights like this are just
made

for us conpulsive sinners, the
impulsive soar-throated & our histories of

fantasies upon mysteries knocking fiercly on our
door, I guess this time it's

spring
preparing her arrival by
singing us gently to sleep as

to say; 'make way, throw
away, it's

time for late-afternoon-strolling, ice-cream-
trolling & tree-shadow-grass-gazing

whilst 'our kind of truth'-phrasing

let's just jump straight to May.'

(We'll be walking light as
air together

& I've got time to wait.)

So I fill my gaps with daydreaming, wine-sipping, late-night-sigh-
writing mostly because

it makes me feel alive
& out loud.

I've been told I share colours with
fall, maybe I
do

maybe not at all

but I do share
wherewithal with season number
two;

(sky-chasing & wall-climbing &
old mistakes to redo with
yet another

someone new)

taking pride in walking
tall

even when I feel so small.

The sound of rain always
makes me feel

composed, disposed;
ready for anything

in the same way you do.

You & the sense of
lies-come-true

some shades of blue

packing my bags, combing my
hair truthfully through

shower singing

oh, and the smell of spring.

-----------

There was so much in the air that night, apart from small drops of water; confusion, fright, beauty, blues, acceptance, surrender & astonishment. Back then I had lost my way, I was fucked up, miserable. Hadn't slept for months, couldn't been bothered with anything but writing. Paris was my beatiful hell on earth - the perfect love to hate relationship. I filled my nights with words & my days with walks all over the city, always daydreaming of the same thing, the one thing that I cared about: To get to the girl waiting for me down in Nashville, Tennessee. To drink Jack Daniel's & slay monsters & kiss cowboys under the moon. To get away from there.

Today it's almost a year later, the rain is still tapping on my window, & though a lot of things have changed I can't help but find a beautiful irony in the fact that all I do these days still revolve around one & the same thing: To once more cross that sea, see - I've got a date with spring in Nashville, Tennessee.

Love,

me.