i got it

sometimes you need some people to get lost with.
but getting lost is only the enactment of finding yourself.

deinfinitely

(same song over and over)

and if M the inventor loved his water pipe as much as i love my coincidences, well i dont know what that would be but here's what i ran into:

I knew that there were no guarantees. No way of knowing what came next for me, for him, or anybody. Some things don’t last forever, but some things do. Like a good song, or a good book, or a good memory you can take out and unfold in your darkest times, pressing down the corners and peering in close, hoping you still recognize the person you see there.

- Sarah Dessen, This Lullaby

and then i hit this.


which is coincidental to one long conversation on a breezy and sunsetty balcony.

what will be will be? going back to "the best times of your life have not yet been lived" - the most efficient self indulging be-more-mindful statement :)

sleep i must.
head hurting is.
sun greediness has its drawbacks. speech alteration is apparently one of them, but only apparently, cause in reality sun stroke is only used as an excuse. redundancy might be one real side effect though, cause i'm still listening to the same song.

who took my uvula?

put my heart in your hands.

but i can always take it back.

want is like + lack

'been reading this book. he says the first love is the only love. the other he says as much love as possible is the only love. she says true love is the only love. and it struck me in so many ways that i had to pause the book and take my laundry out.

i dont even know which one is my first love. is it the impossible-letter writing-song composing-i'd go to the end of the world with you-big ears are cute-guy? is it the highschool-boys are stupid phase-love-hate-and a lot of denial-trip? is it the accidents are more than accidents-coincidences are more than coincidences-love is like the movies bit? its not about being so absolutely ridiculously over everything that i can reduce it to some heterogeneous definition, its just a reference my nerdy sarcastic brain makes to my heart.
maybe every new love is like the first love.

so back to things i know something about, like wanting. wanting is like plus lack. although you can want something that you don't lack. you can want something you already have. you can want it to go on. but in a way that still is a lack, means you lack continuity, vision, security or conversation. :)

which makes me wonder, why did billy joel say he doesnt want clever conversation and what was the impact of his song on the world? has the importance of authentic, pure, clever conversation diminished cause of that?

are you lightning? (such a nada nerd today)

i don't know anything about love. you think i'd like to, and sometimes i would, but i think my ignorance in the matter will let me be bothered just enough to stir something nice. hmm, to make it clearer here's an example: getting hurt really badly cause of missing some sign but all the sudden depression would actually nurture some super master piece. how girlishly gullible.

i dont know anything about love and i act like i know everything, but that's a birth mark. some get it on their bums, others on their stomachs, i got it in a more visible place. i got a behavioral birth mark. mark rhymes with shark.

i also have strong opinions, with one p. strong rhymes with wrong. this blog is becoming mental masturbation.

here goes something

today i wore a tie. ties say a lot. it wasnt even my tie, but i had to start this post with something as i always found the start to be the hardest part, once i have that everything else just starts popping till the point of making no sense.

sometimes i want to write so many things that i have to leave sentences unfinished and jump to others. it's the way this post looks like RIGHT NOW. fuck, time is too flexible, making me look bad. time is why i feel misunderstood. i fell misunderstood, actually. long time back.

but i didnt wear the tie for the start of this post, i wore it to look cool. might have been a bit off beat, or maybe i'm just doubting my coolness cause of all the color mismatching rumours going around in my neighbourhood. and as i was standing on a busy street (i cant focus, what a mismatch in song choosing!!.... there, better!) looking all rebellious with my smoke in my hand, this group of middle aged asian women (i really wanted to say chinese :)) came to me and asked me where is the swarovski shop.

i bet you it was the tie. the tie said i am a young aspiring woman who has been in the fake diamond shop previously, but would be nice enough to direct a group of asian middle aged women to it.

i remember once people asking me directions for the restrooms. i wonder what i was wearing then.

"my life was all balls"

my fingers are trembling, they're itching at the idea, they have not been so excited since glam rock. they want to write that email more than i do, i am more of a pacifist from middle up, must be my hands that are logistically or geographically challenged, they haven't figured out which half they belong to or it could even be some evil bone, just like in igor. so yeah, whatever it is, it's begging my better judgment to write the email, to write it and let it all out cause keeping it in is a bit like a hedgehog inside out, all the stingy ends stay inside. but my pacifist half wants to leave it all behind, be wise, forgive or forget but in an odd way it seems to be forfeiting. or has the feeling it does. my fingers must have gone to my head.

i won't do it.
i am now more a "je m'en fiche"ist than i am a misanthrope.

lasa-i sa moara prosti, pufi.

say this is it

when two people are together, no one really knows what they have and what they're like with each other except for them two, and somehow everyone else around seems to have a theory or judgement about it. i say stfu.
external theories on couples' well being are #12 on the "what sucks" list.

amor fati

its funny. maybe i should stop at this. it's funny. the end. thanks for writing, thanks for reading, au revoir. but obstinately stubborn, i wont stop at that and i will say whats funny, just to make a point. cause it isnt. what's funny is that although i maybe dont remember clearly what i was doing some months ago on any given day, i have the "minutes" of this night, some years ago. and when i say some i mean seven. i even have that diary entry, in some old, dusty, mum read notebook. even the poem analysis or essay i was doing that night for school, of morgenstimmung, which funnily enough (again funny doesnt really have any humor, but some bitter ironies) means morning mood. what i remember the most is that feeling of emptiness, happy me became hollow me, i think thats when i grew up 10 years so i instantly stopped liking leonardo di caprio. or maybe this is an attempted joke.

so who cares in the end, life goes on, we move on, time, flies, summer, winter and wam bam 7 years go by. no thanks, mam. like i have a choice! but i still obstinately stubborn say no thanks mam, i can build character some other way. i dont need to grow up. and i havent, somehow. i grew up biologically, i got over it socially, but something is still wrong, my arm is still missing, or is it my heart, or my brain, or my lungs. i dont want conversation, empathy or sympathy. i want to keep my memories.

i'm the only one not not looking, but the only one understanding.
yellow moon is growing cold.

what else is there?

i got hit. i dont know why or how it happened. oh i so wish i had a smoke right now. so i got really hit, some cousin of cupid must've seen me and thought "i'd just throw a sorrow and nostalgia dart at this one, just for laughs" and he did, he did, the bastard!

"if you cannot bring good news than dont bring any."

so i mellowed down, tried to figure myself out, doesnt that happen too much lately, well i'd say, it does! and i started watching movies i made over the years, movies that, in the making, took me away from other important things, movies that no one thought were relevant (and by movies i mean some shots, maybe some pictures, a song or two all piled up, mixed and matched in movie maker and i had to make that clarification just so people don't get expectations too high). and these dumb movies, capturing random moments, people, feelings of my life made me the sentimental equivalent of putty. but happy putty. lets just putty it like that. :D

"i once held her in my arms, she said she would always stay"

and i realised i make movies for closure. i do. that should throw me right on the weirdo shelf, whatever that means, whoever else is there, in spite of me potentially already being there. and just so weirdo comes with some extra on top, i cried, out of happy sad nostalgia, from only one eye. only from one. like the other one was stubborn, wanted to keep appearances, wanted to prove that we're not all that sentimental.

but i'm also here, so here i am, all high on life, who to share it with, well of course, with my later selves, all the letzus coming back to this blog searching for memories, trying to figure out when did it start going wrong.;)
a bit of self-irony and negativity is a luxury i can have when i feel as self sufficient as i do right now, and its a scary feeling but nonetheless a feeling of extreme power and independence. it'll go away soon to give way to life in the shelf.