north country

it's officially december now. 2010 is about to bite the dust.

depressing yet wonderful in a way. when you imagine all the things that may change or and then deadly when you think of all the things that may never change.

just because i said it doesn't mean i meant it

finally i feel like a person again.

after spending about 6 hours on my feet today. i nearly collapsed when i got home had a quick dinner and did something that i don't do that often--i took a nap to get back on my feet. took a shower and had a moment to breath. i did so much over the weekend that i feel exhausted already. i have no clue how i'll be passing this week but oh well. lousy time-managing for 3 days really gives you no time to study at all.

i just put my white stripes on getting my teenage mood on these days. first keane now these beautiful songs--i do have to say they're far more beautiful than i remember--they're leveling out my brain as we speak.

first off--about the few remarks that i promised to state about the raving night out. i think it's established by now that i shouldn't be allowed to drink until i grow a personality. i don't remember much of the worst minute--just a lot of tears and paranoia--and sadly, my supposedly super cool mature poet spirit turned out to be scared little girl. it was obvious that i was beat up and pushed around and cornered by fears and miseries. i did have my reasons, i just didn't needed others to know. i used to be a fun person though.

anywho skipping all that---i went to that gigantic art fair today. though it cost me many uncomfotable hours on a hell bus and even more walking by foot--still it was a blast. first off, some kids are gonna grow up to me weird people. there were people who had their 8 year olds wondering through the booths. now i have nothing against encouraging a kid to know and like art, but have a heart. second, everything was a little too sterile, a little too business-like. a little 'mainstream' i suppose. it was crazy crowded too--lotsa strange lovely people.

best thing about that photo on top--first we saw these beautiful pieces by a group of asian artists who were hanging out by the paintings. i told my friend how yoko-john magic had happened for the first time in an art gallery possible like this one. then only a few minutes later we came by that photo--two seconds of silence passed and i blurted "is that john lennon?" and my friend heartedly approved. but there was nothing in the title or anywhere else (it was actually titled untitled) that indicated that it was john. my friend remarked that "just because he has the hair and glasses..." surely it didn't mean it had to be john, i ended for her. but we decided as we walked away that it was john for us. and i actually had my picture taken with me that looked like a god-john had erupted from the skies to talk to me. it was just wonderful.

and sure i could have asked him a few questions but we had to keep going. i've seen lotsa beautiful colors and patters pieces of mind and heart spread all around. then i've seen conformity of a few elements and the fancy banker types that cruelly reminded me that money flowed around these corridors as much as art did. and i guess you can't fight that. dylan made millions outta records, still does. doesn't mean to music is any less impressive.

i was hazy on my way back. i tried to figure out what was so great about this chaplin guy's voice. i mean the band make good music, no offense, it's just that he adds this spice to it that makes it different.

anywho until i do that you go enjoy the john-god. or god-john. sounds funny even to say it.

perfect symmetry

my back's practically broken.

lemme get back on my foot. i'll tell you all about every lovely thing i saw.

a girl

"Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world."

E.P.

well hello dear old friend--yes, i have come back.

edit about 10 minutes later:

"I know my circle and know very well
How many faces I'd have out of mind"

...

whaddayasay. i remember jack white being the cool alternative creepy hot emo prototype of my youthful days. i came by an interview the other day and he seemed super easy going mature grown up man. he's all adult and calm now. still charming though.

and maybe you'll find that life is unkind

my head's not exactly straight yet--i have full hours missing in the memory of last night. once the drunken paranoia and moodiness slipped away it actually turned out to be a fun night. made some smart points of importance: 1)it was a part of evolution that man made straps on dresses. use them. 2)don't drink when you hadn't had a proper dinner, or when you're moody, or when you're firghtened, or when you feel unsafe. 3)stop once you get hazy.

i do wanna talk about a few things regarding last night but my stomach's still alittle tingly. i woke up this morning with the need to listen to perfect symmetry --especially that little part in the middle that talks about the end of the night--and a few other moments that could have fit keane perfectly--anywho, i was supposed to study tonight but i think i'm just gonna have supper (very british that is) then coffee. more keane. i have to get back on my feet for tomorrow so i can go ahead and see that contemporary art thing downtown. then i have to study.

shithead stomach needs to get better.

i was walking up the stairs of the subway, tired, beat up, sweating the vodka, with my heart missing beats--and i got this feeling of returning home urgently. when you reveal faces of you that you know people would not like you understand the actual beauty of having a family. you feel like you can fall layers and layers and your mother would still be just as loving. i just came home practically dying of fear of ever losing that.

my mother she made tea and delicious boreks and i just dozed off to sleep.

bend and break

well if i try a bit harder i may actually fit this world to be own bidding. i actually did have a few things to talk about but i have that oblivion that you have following the revealing of what you thought was so dear.

i ached for a simple kind of beauty today. like that of chaplin's tone.

...

shit. i just had that moment where i saw something on the paper stopped and realized that despite my hours of studying i have no effin clue about it. then i realized i have no effin clue on anything on the subject.

so best not pretend

long long day.

it's raining though, so that's pretty sweet. raging storm, too. got caught on my way back--then it went away (back now, with lightnings and all)--just left the wind and the falling leaves. and music in my ears. i do know how to live on my own, for sure.

everyone seems to be on a struggle. million little words each with its own set of worries. i do feel seperate though--don't know if it's arrogance or just misery--it feels like everyone's striving to be comfortable--i'm fighting to survive. all these thoughts and pains that i hold dear wear me out. my heart is like--you know how your headphones get screwed over but not entirely broken and you know that very suddenly you may unsettle the sound--yeah, that's how it is. certain moments both ears go blazing, then suddenly, dead silence. i was walking down to the school today perfectly fine. then thoughts began coming over. songs suddenly got sad.

there's a bench that i may have mentioned earlier--we call it the 'lovers bank' cause it always has creeping couples getting all romantic after dark and all--and it's never unoccupied. i walked down and i looked at it--funny story--all the leaves of the tree that had been keeping it undercover and out of sight has fallen--now it's just out there so barren and obvious that it has no relation left to lovers whatsoever. then i sat down a little--listening to the best song i've heard in a while--and a few drops of tears fell. just like that. at moments of silence like that you realize the darkness within. and it frightens me these days. it won't make me sad, no, it just scares me. we do get damaged, after all. all these bruises and burns do leave a mark. you don't notice that.


this song--love is the end--i can't move past it. turns out it was exactly what i've been wanting to say all along. it's simplicity and beauty and sunset and goodbye spirit aside--it is true--love really is the end--nothing gets better after that. you should cherish everysecond in which you're learning to love/like/care for someone because once you do, well, it goes downhill from then on. there are no more steps to take. once you care, you just simply not care--very soon. it looses its charm. it looses its magic. the pathway up is beautiful--like the first ture laughter you share, or the first time you say the same thing at the same second, or the first time you share a song, or read a book together, or when that person--friend/foe/lover--makes you smile on a day you thought noone could--those are the beautiful things. after that--best not pretend cause love is the end.

night breaks blue. beautiful.

what was i talking about? right, emotions. like today with an old friend. i felt where affection once stood justified or mistaken now rang empty. even distasteful. not that it mattered--but the feeling itself--to see that turn into that bleak even bored attitude--i felt as if i let slip something valuable. i feel that a lot these days--with friends who now seem very estranged to me. today was unbearable. i keep saying it's not lack of love. but it is the lack of something.

funnily, that song is the most peaceful thing i've heard in ages. it soothes me down. it reminds me of a tale i've always wanted to tell.

legs of stone

i'm thinking this life-questioning state of being is just basic laziness. or else i have no clue why it comes up every time i have to study. though i do have to say--i listened to my white, and am watching an old superman movie--priceless stuff. got some keane performances on youtube, ate the most beautiful dessert. not having any expectations from life turns out to be the way to actually do some fun crap.

tomorrow. far away. for now.

...

4 years in and i guess it's safe to say now that i've made a mistake. i should have been somwhere else. not that i suck here, it's just that somewhere else i could have been much happier.

feet on the dashboard

overall a tasteless night.

but this. this. it's worth a lifetime.

you fall on me for anything you like

oh who cares about having 3 midterms in 2 days. oh who cares about anyofthatcrap when that lead just puts his hand of his heart when he says 'i don't mind'

if i could be young again

oh that little leprechaun cracks me up like no other. funny dude.

not that i have any emotional attachment towards the french, but i sure do feel sad that the land which once gave birth to rimbaud is now squirming under a tiny little hate man.

oh dear europe. how old and out of fashion you are.

naked person

a good voice is like a poem
or more like a poet. but good is in fact not good good is imperfect and magical and otherwordly like poets. never seen a perfect poet in my life. and voices are like that and they have breaks and whimpers and sighs instead of rhymes and metaphors or unicorns dressed as words. you can tell a lot by the voice. sometimes you don't even have to say the right words. the voice trembles. the voice shakes. the voice roars. you can fake words but sometimes you can't fake voice.

so this keane lead for example. or the followill. their voices are poets. seperate of their persons.

like fingertips. i hereby announce voices to be the next most personal things.