Making some space

Oi folks, it's been a while since the last post and obviously this has got largely to do with the lack of motivation or as some postmodern shrinks would rather call it "a writer's block"...through which all the writers are deemed to pass sooner or later. Hopefully it jogged on pretty fast and here I am again in front of this whole blast of sentences and endless storm of words that keep struggling in my mind for dominance. This year started off with an utterly good vibe which actually helped me a lot to sort out a few issues I had to deal with for ages in the past but hopefully it all came to an end. In one of my very first posts, I was explaining my passion for Swedish trains and public transport (just a quick reminder: because they are crazily clean, they always come on time, the wireless is always at its best, and all that jazz I don't feel like insisting on at the moment)...essentially because I love bragging about going places and the stuff I do when abroad.(well not ALL the activities I engage in whilst on a trip but some of them haha). So, I believe ditching stuff was key in this whole process in restoring the nearly forgotten well being. So yeah, I started to bin things I did not seem to need anymore including stuff I haven't worn in ages, people that kept coming in and out of my life because as you all know, it is the case that people do grow apart quite often and there is little you can do in that regard. You win some, you lose some after all. Everything looks a lot more spacious, wider and certainly cleaner. I do love this feeling of filling in the gaps that may render one FREE. I have also given up on certain beliefs and creeds I have embraced long time ago and I have become a very career focused man who clearly I was not back in the days say three or four years ago give or take. I reckon at this stage in my life I am far less spiritual than I used to be, way more upfront and more pragmatic. Places do change people. People do change places themselves. I do believe in change and whoever wishes to do so will also want to bear in mind that one simply cannot change something or someone expecting to gain something out of it unless you (perhaps learn how to) deal efficiently with your own expectations so if you are keeping them low, you may expect the lowest of the low. Though if you decide to aim high, you will need to work harder and live up to your own goal. The idea of brand new space and its vastness are definitely overwhelming. I am guessing this year I will need to find suitable things to fill in all the gaps in my life but there is a long journey ahead. Today for instance I will buy myself a new suit and some extra shirts mainly because there is still a fair deal of extra space in my wardrobe and also because I love long-term investments. Because there are some men in this world who surprisingly enough never seem to have enough shirts or suits. That is most definitely one of the core benefits of being less spiritual. I guess. *I do also hope this post did not sound too philosophical because if it did, then I would need to apologise as this was none of my intention when I started writing it.

Alas, it's God almighty upon us

Inspiration is something you can rarely find these days, it seems as some of us need to travel miles away to find it. Others, may spend days and weeks isolated in their ivory tower hoping the divine good will release soon its boosting energy.

Writing is not about scars, nor is it about releasing frustrations or selfishness. When you send a message to your readers, do make sure they will be left with something- no matter how shalow that piece of "somethingness" might be-the message is the arse kicker.

As a theatre icon I personally admire said once : "The mission of an artist nowadays is to impress and to manage to literally make the reader emerge into another reality, showing a new perspective and a new way of conceiving the idea of SELF".
Writing is about dignity and self awareness, about giving joy and thrills and changing.
When the writer ceases to impress its audience, he simply dies and he, the unfortunate, will be erased from the collective memory like forever.

Some writers will admit it, some will not.

Some will inherit the grace and the horendous joy of being read, others may just aim to become writers, but the unforgiving time will engulf them as the legendary kit fish did with Jonas. In a postmodern world, the only thing we can do is just give as much as we can, work as hard and aim accordingly.

Any other rationale but this, will be automatically labeled as a huge nonsense.

Bla

She told me there are drugs that open your heart and some others that make you face your ego.She started to cry.She felt lost.We were laying in the grass just in front of the squareish library building.She felt like getting rid of the awful pain swelling from deep inside. Then, I realized how much she misses her friends, her past life, her cat, her fags etc.It was a new beginning chosen at a very early stage that she embraced with selfless love and enthusiasm.

Had we had the chance to choose our own future, how great we would be?Wouldn't we?

But known thing is no creature on Earth can do that no matter how thoroughly is striving.The gods from up above could not care less about us.

Then she told me about the ups and downs of one's life.We strolled the parks alleys and we roamed the night roads, carelessly.
One night I told her she's like  the Phoenix bird, that she can upbring herself from the very own ashes, that once you go through fire, you will burn within.Once you're resuscitated, you begin a new circle of life, but the ashes will be always there, emerging in different shapes and faded nuances.
They don't forget and nor do they forgive.
Anyone.Anything.

Because she is like that. A night bird with broken wings made up of ashes that once used to burn to the ground and whenever touches the ground with her feet she can still feel the pain, more vibrant and lively than ever.

Yesterday, I gave her a hug. And strongly suggested her to choose a path, wichever that may be.Some paths go straight to complete destruction of self, others go to abominance. Some others may join other paths and create confusion whnever one is found in the middle of the cross roads.

And later on she confessed that unconsciously, she brings out the best of the ones she loves.

Because

Are there enough words to best describe a person?Even if there were plenty, I wouldn't have been able to do it.
After more than one year she is still there, keeps being present sometimes without pretending anything, not saying anything, not aiming to do anything but bringing me to a reality I always have been part of.
Bucharest has been bohemian moments, feelings, music and thoughts (with ups and downs but anyway) all conveyed in her unique perspective, triggering intuition as expected . Last night she sent me a message on Couch Surfing telling me she's in Calgary, Alberta.She had an awful flight, lost her temper a few times (which is soooo unusual when talking about her cause she's that sort of...how shall I say, well...that sort of well ballanced, well paced person and still...she lost her temper).

Could hear her sipping her coffee.

She felt like calling me but she suddenly remembered I have changed my SIM card. Women are soooo unpredictible at times and thus, it makes all the effort of approaching them look redundant.Why doing it if she's always hiding something from you?She always will, no matter what.
And then she mentioned she was wearing the plaid hat I gave her when I left...more than one year ago or so.The hat I was proudly wearing whenever we met in order to take long strolls across the city centre in search for pubs with good music or cheap restaurants with quite yum food.lol

Last night I realized how much I miss our late night conversations about all the existing odds and ends, about people we met, places we went or places we'll go.She managed to put a wide grin of bewilderment on my face, which has become so rare lately.
Well...she used to be an icon of knowledge and self reliance.
She ain't anymore.She ceased to be so when she asked me for help.She needs it.
She'll come all the way to England.
And the conversations will start once again, maybe more lively, maybe less intended, godknowswhy.

 I guess I wrote all this nonsense for all the red wine bottles we drank and for all those which are forth.

:)

Cardiff

It was November, last year if I recall well and I was off to south Wales for a couple of days...you know...that kind of feeling when you really want to detach yourself from the small city life and enjoy bits and pieces of places you never been before.

It was 5:45 AM and I was just about to finish my 3rd Marlboro fag. Didn't smoke in ages but that morning for some reason I felt like doing so.Could feel the tobacco fragrance piercing into my lungs and then its up climbing warmth scraching my throat, being exhaled at the very end like a long grey line of ash.

Empty streets.

Had a blast the night before and I had almost forgotten all the essential things that had happened.I was asking if I was sober.Yes, I was. Didn't drink much. Ok, maybe a stout or two...but that ain't much.Not when you're 22...because "none of us would fail in this life, not when you're young".HAHAHA

Was still singing the Take That tune with the headphones pleasing my ears...but something was far from normal.

Head wasn't aching, but my kidneys were hurting me a bitch. No paracetamol in my left pocket.'the fuck I put it?I could sworn I put 3 pills in my pocket 4 days ago just before leaving the small city where I live.

Felt like puking...f*ck...was still too early to go to the train station, but that was too far, man.Everything was so far that morning.

 Then I remembered that a young lady was peeing in the middle of the street just a night before and was still envisaging her cheeks turning red when I asked her why doing it?

"Because I am pregnant", she said. And I LOL'd just a few steps behind her.

Was rude.

I looked above and saw the rolling seagulls making those specific noises that one cannot label them as disturbing or not.You cannot decide...that's why i love the sound.Because it makes you question and it gives you that "donno if I love it or not but fuck I find it nice" kind of feeling.

And yeah, today I heard the seagulls rolling up above once again.

And I remembered how much I miss Cardiff.

But the kidneys didn't hurt anymore .

Pain was gone.

Sometimes you wish you would you had...the balls

Yeah, that's what you're being telling yourself on a regular basis but at the end of the day you realize all on a sudden that you never had the guts to do so...
Nor did I...neither did them, the others...those you're still afraid of.Although you are pretty convinced "the others" won't bite you cuz you're a grown man now, you're still afraid.Is it normal?You've been living with an inner terror every now and then.Don't try to justify your darn stupid behaviour.I'm good at reading folks and can read you as quickly as a blink of an eye.

People don't bite.
People won't approach you unless you give them a fair amount of signs to do so.
People don't care but they can learn all the most important things about self reliance and all those odds and ends.
People are victims and so are you.Assume it.Live with it.In the long run, it's your own Hell, isn't it?!
But wait a minute...why this need to overthink everything to the point you're somehow ready to proclaim yourself a martyr of your epoch and at that magic point yo're expecting the others to erect a white marble statue and maybe start to worship it afterwards?Wouldn't that be just sweet?
LOL.
You know what, doc?It seems to me like drama doesen't sell very good nowadays.So, would you kindly fuck off?Would you?Huh?
x

Hey ho

For some reason, I find bit weird to wake up early in the morning and start brush my teeth whilst my effing gums are bursting in a warm jet of blood.Damn nasty!But in the same time I find it darn releasing as I feel as if a huge amount of unnecessary "stuff"(soz, but I cannot find a proper word to best fit in this case, eh?) falls apart.Beside this aspect, I think mornings are cute in a very particular way, thinking of the whole way from your bed down to the frigging cold bathroom.

Anyway, unlike most folks who really hate Mondays, I really fancy Monday early mornings...especially when you can find the pleasure of a hot shower(+additional wanking or not, depends on the mood) after the entire annoying odissey from your room to the bathroom.Well, if you're after Xanax you'd best start to get rid of the whole tension which had taken you over.
Rediscovered my passion for little nothings, I ooze inspiration when it comes to writing and hell yeah, my beloved Marlboros are back in stayul!
x