Tuesday, February 24, 2015

if he moves

those moments, you know it.
feelings never lie, instincts never bluff.
in fact, after this whole episode, the one thing I probably should have drilled in me is to trust my instincts. and everyone should. it can be the tiniest of seedlings planted, the briefest of moments encountered but you know what you know, when you know. and no one should convince you otherwise.

so I met A, quite fortuitously (love that word), or maybe not. but either way, much of it was unplanned, on the fly. and perhaps knowing love, or maybe feeling a semblance of it boils down to being reduced and feeling small. acting big, but feeling meagre. i act big, talk big, slam and criticise but that's really all for the defensive. reduction is what happens inside, when you kind of lose count of your heart for a second, and things feel like they can spiral in any given direction, and if he does something or says something, you're gone. wiped out, extinct and alive all at once. never more extinct and never more alive. you recede into a warm puddle, into oblivion, and your world kind of trembles, but a sweet trembling. A had that effect. we were both unserious, maybe testing waters, i don't  know. but it felt somewhat real, and rooted in the moment. peering eyes, intentional movements, deliberate kisses, consciousness seeping into unconsciousness, light streaming, hearts beating. i don't know. and i don't want to move, or edge, or reveal. because i probably have, and embarrassed enough of myself. if he moves, i move. i don't know.

the snow is not sedate, it is simply inhuman

"As it has snowed all day, it snows.

As though the snow wants to prove something: that the composure with which snow can fall never has to do with fatigue; the snow is not sedate, it is simply inhuman. Like the winter this year, inhuman in every respect. Going tirelessly on, repeating itself in patterns no one understands. The dark is pale from the brightness of snow."


"An idea of a home, ideas on the whole; what do we need them for. There are those who make it across with us, and those who do not. It can be as simple as that, too. No bus to pick you up, no bridge built yet, only later on. A fortuitous delay or a delay hardly fortuitous at all, the fatality of a certain hesitation that is thought's expulsion from the body or the blood, the fact that one might never arrive. Those who made it across, and those who did not."


"It's foreboding, the way a house can be when you arrive at a late hour and the lights are out. Or early, and: the lights are out. I think I'd rather be in an unhappy relationship with someone than this: to be without someone. Without those eyes to—well, what, exactly. To give me life. All the time to bring me into being, with just a glance. Rather come into being as a stranger, someone else, than this, not to exist at all.

I am in love with the wrong man. And constantly I am leaving someone I love. A person can come unstuck, but I didn't come home for comfort.

It's about the apples. It's that."

Via here.

Inez & Vinoodh

Me Kissing Vinoodh (Lovingly) 1999

Sunday, February 22, 2015

too much of a good thing

when goodness turns into an imposition, can it still be considered good?
many at times, it is this exceeding of what is sufficient and needed that unwittingly transforms a good thing to something that creates uncomfortability.. and therein lies a tricky path to negotiate.

too much of a good thing is bad. is surely bad.

Thursday, February 19, 2015

i love this song

pigs will be pigs

cunts will be cunts
pussies will be pussies
idiots will be idiots
crazies will be crazies
and you will be a shit-faced asshole disintegrating in the furnaces of hell

as normality dictates.

because, as normality dictates, you think and think, and question and question, and doubt and doubt
and you don't get anywhere,
i am fuckin normal, sure.