I needed that!

I discovered this band by accident. Not so much an accident, really, as I fell in love with their name and looked them up in youtube. You can call me shallow, kitsch, artistically blind, but hell they made my mood better. And you have to agree on the fact Eugene, the singer, is a cult icon. It is one of the most electrifying, stunning live performances I have seen in ages. My hips instinctively obeyed to the calling of this music and started moving by their own volition. People in the Internet cafe for the past two nights must have been thinking that I am having seizures. Whatevah. Enjoy, unless you are one of those constipated types that only respond positively to black tie events. There is just too much scrotal sweat involved in Gogol Bordello for your taste, so please visit some other blog. :-)

Eugene, marry me!

[Alas, how have the mighty fallen... heheheh]

Things not meant to be put down.

[Beautiful photo by http://girltripped.deviantart.com]

In the old times, women used to kiss the lips of statues in the twilight, praying to the heartless god of love. Nothing has changed, save for the fact we kiss old photos and computers have replaced the glorious, lush gardens of the past.

You come quietly at night to claim me, dressed in moth wings. Wearing a long cape of blood and memories. My velvet prince.

I miss you. So much that sometimes the screams I never utter cut my insides. Like a mouthful of broken glass.

You whisper my name in your sleep. You seek my face. My caress.

I call out your name in my waking hours. I need you to be here.

Yet we don't meet.

Sleep claims me like a coma. Life claims what's left of me. Onwards I stumble, determined to take it to the end.

We never meet.

Sometimes I try to imagine what you may be doing. If you are happy or sad, busy or bored.

It's useless.

It all matters. It's all futile.

I throw away old love letters and recently acquired phone numbers. Again.

You keep yourself perpetually busy.

I am tired all the time.

We both know what's going on. Yet I am talking to your photo and you are talking in your sleep.

We never meet.

Crowded in here.

Where is everybody?

Nuare smirks knowingly and lets some belladonna cherries fall into his chalice, then adds more wine. His nose is bleeding slowly, and he absentmindedly wipes it with the back of his gloved hand. He's really drunk, and yet he knows that if anyone in the inn gets any strange ideas about mugging him, he can break them in two in less than a second. This irritates him.

Seraph is too busy sword practicing with his teacher to notice the bleeding cuts on his body.

Dorian removes the last blood from under his nails and then dries the sink.

Filigree and Catkin juggle with knives that they throw to each other rapidly, taunting each other in a language no-one has heard in a very long time.

Lash removes his top hat while offering a single white rose to the girl with the violin. Its thorns are vicious enough to prick him through his white glove. Reality pulls apart gently in order for him to manifest in our age, like a curtain made of whispers.

Arunas tiptoes centimeters away from the edge of the roof, while humming to himself a traditional Lithuanian song. Should he lose his balance, the fall will be very, very long. He smiles quietly. He tried it just before.

Etielle finds himself over a torn corpse with no memory of what took place. Again.

Elizabeth listens to them all.

Blood and pain unite them all.

One homeland for all.

Myself.

Not again...

Feeling very low again. Not in the mood for anything. Need out.

But the way does not open yet. Don't know what to do. Feel that I have been condemned to eternal hell by the kind of life that I live. A hell specially designed to contain me, fetter me, kill my creativity and break me to pieces so small that nothing can stick them together again. Feel that this will go on forever and ever, till I am eighty years old, and I will still be waiting.

I want to break everything. Tear the house down. Break my head against the wall.

Freedom. Why is it so hard to have a normal life? Why is it so hard to do what I want? Why can't I ever be free? Why can't I have the things other people take for granted? Like, at least one day free per week? Or eight hours of work every day, not twelve, thirteen or fourteen hours every single day of every week?

Why can't I have the basics?

What the hell have I done to find myself in this position?

Why do choices, why does sticking to your beliefs has to be so difficult?

Why even now, even after all this time, the way still does not open? What do I have to do? I cannot wait any longer, I have absolutely no patience left, no strength, I have lost the will to go on, lost my sanity, lost everything, and the pressure increases instead of decreasing. I set both feet firmly down and do what I have to do, every hour of every day, I am surpassing myself in all aspects, I am doing things three months ago I considered impossible and yet I am still locked in my cell and feel like my wardens come and pierce me with their spears just to make it more enjoyable. What else is there to do goddammit? What? Change personality? Go stark mad? Kill someone? Kill myself? Start cutting myself up? At this age? Wouldn't that be pathetic? I am not pathetic. I am not sad. Fucking hell, I am not.

I don't need pity. Don't need sympathy. I need my freedom.

Give it to me before I come up there late at night, when I am asleep, and pluck your stupid feathers out like we do with hens. And then come down there and open you a dozen new assholes.

Gods dammit. I have a job to do and you won't let me.

Fucking hell.

Cat gone wild...

I think Mr. Adolf, one of my oldest male cats, has gone stone deaf. Every time he sees someone entering the room, he makes the mewing equivalent of an obese person accidentally landing on a bagpipe.

From zero to bitch in three seconds.

My feet are hurting because I have been walking for the past two and a half hours. I had a fight with my mother and I went walking with no destination in mind. I just did not want to see her for the rest of the night. Not very hard to do as it is Easter and she will go to church, while I will go home and get a nice restful nap till tomorrow. And hopefully tomorrow I will find a way to go the fuck away again. Anywhere sounds a fine destination. Fine indeed.

Unless I move soon, I will go more bananas than the whole of fucking Africa.

I am sad, angry, bored, ready to burst, horny and exhausted, all at once. If I watch one more Tokio Hotel video in youtube, I will start humping the screen, and I am at a public place, so this will not really help me with my reputation. The fight with my mother was really really nasty and I hate hurting her but she doesn't understand and no matter what I do she gets hurt all the same, and if I don't bite her verbally fast enough she will bite me first, plus it is Easter, which I hate, I hate all family and religion related holidays and celebrations because I never had anything happy to look forward to in these celebrations, still haven't, don't know if I ever will, I am really pissed off, I should go home but I do not want to talk to my mom if she is at home right now, I hate myself for believing everything my pendulum tells me (*though I have found out that most things turn out true, and if they don't, it's me asking the wrong questions*), I feel like kicking myself in the butt but I am not THAT flexible, and generally all is fine and dandy. I have fucked reality and linear time because presently I have a relationship with a guy who's not here, I have fucked up everything, this chaos magick stuff is messing me up bad, who needs drugs when you can do the impossible just by focusing hard enough and wishing for it to happen, the men of my life are not here yet and when they finally come they will not be any less fucked in the head and nothing makes any sense, I CAN'T WAIT ANY LONGER FOR THINGS TO HAPPEN I WILL HONESTLY EXPLODE AND THE UPPER PART OF MY HEAD WILL TURN INTO A GODDAMN PINK BLOODY BRAIN HELICOPTER LIKE A WINGED PANTY LINER GONE WRONG@@@ FUCKKKKKAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHH!!!!! HEEEEELP!!!

One of those goddamn nights you wish you were brain dead.

Seriously trying.

I am seriously trying not to pay any attention to the stupidity of people anymore. Seriously trying. But I fail spectacularly.

First of all, my lower back is killing me. I have been doing all the wrong things, not physically, but there are quite a few things that can cause physical pain although they are not causing any physical strain. And believe me, I am not referring to sex. :-)

Secondly, I am the first to admit I am opinionated. Opinionated as fuck, to be more precise. This is why I do not converse with strangers most of the time, because when they start blurting out racistic, homophobic or just plainly stupid opinions that they label "arguments" I want to kick them hard enough to make them spit their balls out. I do not have the patience to explain to them WHY they are stupid. I just want them gone from my view ASAP, and usually to make this happen I just start screaming obscenities. This happened a couple of days ago. Again.

Someone came to my work and unfortunately, we started a conversation related to gay people. He said, "I do not have a problem with them", which is the usual openminded-my-arse cover everyone uses to avoid being called a homophobe, "but one of them is staying in my building. And if I have a kid, what then? If he or she sees two men kissing, what then?"

Right you are, fella. If he or she sees that sight unfolding in front of them, the gay virus will immediately enter them through their innocent eyes. Those two men will get their gayness all over your poor kid and then it will be the end. You kid will become immediately gay. Next step will be to shave her head if it is a girl, let her armpits unshaved till they look like the hairstyle of the singer from Tokio Hotel, and buy herself a tank and a box of multicoloured strap-ons. Or if it is a boy, he will shave his legs, wear one of his mother's dresses (preferably a fuscia red one), pierce his ding dong and go out to satisfy his endless craving for you-know-what kind of meat. Nice, isn't it? Going through all the trouble and expences of reproducing because you need an empty canvas to fill with your complexes and stupidity, and that kid *squeeeeal!* turning out gay. Oh, the horror! Oh, the disappointment! I suppose that when you fuck your wife in missionary position a little voice tells you that you have signed a contract with God and your child will be "normal". Perhaps gay people come out when you fuck doggy style. You should check that too. One can never be too careful with these things.

Question number one: If your son sees two women kissing, is that okay? Because I have noticed that I see a lot of -supposed- lesbian couples in those magazines you buy because you are such a hard, uncompromised, manly man. I suppose this doesn't count. Forgive me. How stupid of me...

Question number two: If your kid never sees two men kissing and he or she still turns out gay, what then? Who's to blame? Who's to burn on that stake you have prepared already? Maybe your kid?

Needless to say, I told him that I hope a meteorite lands in Greece and eradicates the population, because they (Greek men) are homophobic, racist, religion-obsessed fuckwits. :-) Now go on and blame me for that.

Writing poetry

I write poetry all the time. This alone shows my state of mind. I feel like shit. And the more I search, the more I unearth stories from the past that have no happy endings, only blood, violence and death.

Goody. :-/

I suppose I should give it a rest. I feel very lonely though. The kind of lonely that makes me suffocate. The scary kind of lonely that seizes me by the neck late at night. That kind of lonely.

Goody...

Happiness is a state of mind

...that I do not seem capable of reaching lately. :-) It is okay. "Happiness is a temporary chemical imbalance of the brain." Lusiphur from Poison Elves...

I am waiting. Walking on the thin line between two lives. I belong nowhere. Both lives claim me. I can do nothing but wait. I have fought the fights, I have faced the enemies. More to come. All from inside. Fictional. All reflections.

I am waiting.

For the dreams to pass through the veil and come to me.

Dorian, my darling, hold my hand. From the place of cobwebs and echoes, reach out and hold me.

Where chalices are filled with red.

Red is fast. And furious.

The tide is turning. Listen.

There.

Rapture

Sometimes I doubt my own sanity.

My friends urge me further down that path by supporting my visions and crazy ideas.

Don't know if I should thank them for that or curse myself for my weakness. I suppose I am lucky to have them anyway.

Beauty feeds me. Like the sweetest nectar down my throat.

It is also addictive like the worst drug. I continually need more and more and more. It never really ends. Perhaps it will end when I draw my last breath. I will finally be free from the craving.

You are so beautiful that you seem otherwordly. Like a legendary creature, or a dream no man can touch. Your beauty is indescribable. Your eyes, the lines of your face, the way you focus. The way you move. Like a dream, a fantasy, a forbidden treasure. Like one of those creatures in literature, or manga, drawn directly from the collective consciousness of humanity. A fabrication of an artist. Not someone real. And in a sense you are not real. If real is what my hands can touch, then you are not real.

I think that the basic reason I feel so out of my depth by the feedback I get is that I will be very sorry if it is not true. And I do not think it is true. And I do not want to let myself believe. Because reality will charge in and crush me like a bug under its heel. And I will hate myself then. So I do not dare believe. But Desire, ah desire knows no rules, no limits, it can consume someone and eat them from the inside, make them bang their heads against the wall till blood comes out, make them scream into the night till they can no longer breathe, desire is poison that kills slowly. And desire enters my system with every eyeful of your beauty that I drink. Every time I lay my eyes on you, I feed. Every time I feed, I become more and more poisoned by desire. It is in a sense a disaster. A sweet torture. But I have promised myself I will not fall for someone I cannot have. No more dramas. No more tragedies. A straight line. Logical expectations. No gods and no fantasies. And I do not want to go back there again. Eight years ago I almost went mad because of desire. Not again. Never again. I promised myself, never again. Didn't I?

And yet, your face; what rapture. The nectar of gods.

If not for rapture, why live? Why?

I have no answers. Only the wisdom of pain.

Let this drama begin.

Three new career choices

...or rather, three professions I would love to try out but two of them seem very unlikely. I will let you guess which one is the most possible.

1) truck driver. Or rather lorry driver. Something BIG anyway. They remind me of giant penises. (The vehicles, I mean. But the drivers also, sometimes they are total dickheads...) At least I already swear like them.

2) Barwoman. Boring, I know.

3) Dominatrix. But on the condition that no-one touches me. I do all the touching...

Now guess.

Bookcrossing

Photo taken from here.

Then one day I realised that I have books for bookcrossing everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I am not kidding. And I have been keeping them for something a bit less than forever. (For those of you who do not know, bookcrossing is about reading a book, then tagging it with a unique number at bookcrossing.com, writing your comments and leaving the book to be found by someone, or giving it to a friend to read it and pass it on. The next person can also leave comments in the bookcrossing site, even anonymously, and also pass the book on. Right now there are roughly 640,000 bookcrossers and about 4,500,000 books globetrotting happily.) So being mighty and cunning and diabolical, I took out my pendulum and started asking. Should I read this book? yes. That one? no. And so on. The ones that I got a "no" for, will be leaving within the next days. I already have released 15. And there are more on the way.

 

That guy on top is added because he looks absolutely adorable. Or at least my kind of adorable guy. A self sarcastic goth. Excellent stuff. More excellent gothic and fetish photos of this type can be found here.  Thank you, Lina, for the lovely CD with deviantart pics. That site is a disaster; I can spend days downloading images. And I don't have days to spend. In fact, I have the feeling I will leave for abroad very soon. So I am trying to tie loose ends. And it feels there are more loose ends in my life than what there are in a carpet factory in Persia. Or something.

 

Nope, I am not going to get deep in this post. I need my fix. Images from deviantart.com. So piss off. I am busy.

Not funny.

The DVD in which I saved all my data before my laptop died cannot be read by any PC. I still have some of those things in other CDs, but unless I manage to somehow retrieve the data from the DVD, a lot of things are lost forever. Perhaps I should leave my past behind. A pity.