Walking down the memory lane

Recently I was requested at myspace from a Canadian band based in Winnipeg and that woke up all the memories I have put down to sleep long ago. On a few occasions I tried to track down my Winnipeg Jonathan and I even found someone that just might be him but I never dared to write. What would I say?! “Hi! Remember me? I was just wondering if you’re still alive…”
When am I going to learn not to stick to the past?

But Jonathan was a special friend and I’m forever grateful to him for his friendship. I hope now he's happier than he was back then.

Suck

don't want your dreams you try to sell
this disease i give to myself

It’s fading away-the memory, the feeling; as if it has never happened; as if I’m falling out of grace and my faith is in need of recharging.

June 26th

Happy Birthday to me.

MM and YZ

A Bulgarian showbiz news agency has taken an exclusive interview from Marilyn Manson regarding his upcoming Sofia concert. Now, I’ve always suspected that there’s a NIИ fan working in that agency-they never miss any news about them. So it wasn’t a big surprise that one of the questions asked has been about Year Zero.

Q: What do you think about the latest Trent Reznor album?

A: It’s brilliant-I can’t think of nothing else to say. The whole world thinks that whatever Trent Reznor does is brilliant-why should I think any different?

:))))

Gilda*

“Most things you consider evil or wicked are simply lonely, and lacking in the social niceties.”

Tim Burton’s Big Fish

A stray dog living in my neighborhood. As most stray dogs there’s a certain territory she claims ownership on and it was no wonder she took quite an interest in me and Vincent the first time we intruded her kingdom. I was terrified by her-a big up to my waist tall dog, filthy and mean looking, running towards me and my precious Vincent. Of course we ran away; she looked very disappointed.

I tried to avoid close encounters with her quite successfully for years. Every time she’d see us she would rush in our direction and me and Vincent would run like the wind away from her. She was so persistent in her chase that we had to make turns right and left on little streets to escape her.

One day I didn’t see her coming. I noticed Gilda when she was already next to me and running was absolutely futile. She looked straight into my eyes and bit my hand-very gently, not to hurt me; she pressed her teeth against my skin strong enough so that I could not take my hand out of her mouth. I did the only thing possible-I started to fondle her back and scratch her behind the ears until she released me and I stopped. And then she bit my hand again and I had to start all over. She wanted some more caresses and I delivered it. When she decided she had had enough loving from me she let me go. We’re pals ever since. Every morning we pass by her, she awakes and yawns, stretches a bit and joins us. She is visibly very well fed and my only guess is she comes with us simply because she enjoys our company. Sometimes she’s quite playful-she runs in high speed against Vincent and pushes him with her chest like a battering ram; then she looks at me impishly waiting for my reaction.

A few days the three of us were walking again around the blocks. At some moment I lost her out of my sight and I turned around to see if she was coming. She was-only limping. There was something wrong with her right back foot and she was obviously in pain. She didn’t let me even touch it so I had to talk to her for a few minutes (I strongly believe there’s a point in talking to dogs-they do understand so you better mean well). I must have been convincing because she finally made her mind whether I could be trusted and allowed me to take a look at her paw. There was a piece of glass ran into it. It was a very delicate moment-I was on my knees, my face and arms were in the perfect reach of her teeth; I was aware I might cause her pain and I was absolutely clueless about her reaction. Frankly speaking, I was very afraid. But it wasn’t a matter of choice-the dog was in need and there was no one else to help her so it had to be me. Gilda was so cool the whole time and stayed motionless until I finished. Oh, the sight of her running happily afterwards! She not only saw us to our block but she climbed the stairs up to my apartment! It felt good to be appreciated.

* Gilda – a character from Giuseppe Verdi’s opera “Rigoletto”. Nothing artistic about my Gilda:

On a Sunday like this

That’s it! I have had enough and I’m not going to take it anymore-I’m changing my Internet provider! 4 days of being cut off of the www; 5 calls to the support team until finally someone decides to do something and fix the problem. I had the stupidity to pay in advance for a half of year and as soon as that period is through those assholes can kiss me goodbye!

All the preparations are done (I sound like Renfield in "Bram Stoker's Dracula")-flying tickets are booked, hotel rooms-booked. I’m still hoping for a miracle so that DeeDee could join me too-not because I’ll feel safer and more comfortable with a companion but because I know how much she wants to be there and it really hurts me that she might miss all the fun. I don’t want to tell her later how it has been; I want her to be next to me and see for herself. One of my most vivid memories is the start of “Head like a hole” on 29^th of March-we looked at each other, there was no need to say a word; we knew it was “the beginning of the end”. The ending of a great experience is painful because you never know if there’s going to be a next time and that is one of the main reasons for my traveling in August. To some people such an excitement over an hour and a half experience might seem absurd but that is all I care about. Hey, at least I care about something.

Marilyn Manson is playing in Sofia in just a week from now. There’s a giant billboard at the bus stop where I wait every morning. And every morning I forget it’s there; and every morning it surprises me when I see it. Sometimes that billboard is the only reason to smile for the entire day.

Curious thing-MM is playing on one stage with Type O’Negative (not alongside but one after the other). I find the presentation absurd-TON are just mentioned on the poster as if they are simply a support band and the whole advertising campaign is organized around MM which is ridiculous. I hope there won’t be clashes between the two bands fans…I hope they won’t change the venue at the last moment which is very likely to happen if there’s a big interest in the event-the Academic Stadium is some 300 m away from home and I just have to walk a very short street to get there. I made the smart move to take the day of the concert off-there’s no way for me to enjoy anything at all after 9 hours at work. At the end of a working day I care about no one and nothing at all.

As much as I think about suicide it is highly unlikely to take that thought further…at least while my parents are still alive. I do not know why-when I think about them the word “love” is missing in the list. As about afterwards-hopefully my excessive smoking will take care of that and spare me the doubts.

Oh, boy, such an immature thinking-people my age (I don’t say “women”) are supposed to be settled down, to have families…and children (in this very moment a couple of rascals at the table are screaming and shouting like crazy and the only way for me to calm down it to picture how I twist their necks, those little monsters!).

In two days I’ll be 34. 34! I don’t feel even 20. That is so unfair. Maybe a should take a day off on Tuesday too and just hide from all the hypocrites that will want to greet me. I don’t need their attention once an year and see their false smiles. Where are they when I debate whether to throw myself over a bridge? Unfortunately I’m too much of a coward to say that in their faces so I’ll have to bite my tongue, swallow the blood and simply smile back. Such a nice little hell I have build for myself.

Coincidences ?

I love coincidences-they add a refreshing touch to the predictability of the 8 to 5 routine but sometimes those coincidences get far too odd. Just like this morning-I turned on the TV, Kelly Clarkson was complaining about her misfortune love life (I guess that’s what she was doing; I’ve never paid attention to the lyrics) but she was so annoying that I thought “Why don’t they(MTV) play The Queens of the stone age?”. The song to follow was “Sick sick sick”! Or like a few nights ago while I was watching Headbanger's Ball - they played “The Perfect drug” and I thought “Wouldn’t it be a laugh if Marilyn Manson is next!”. And he WAS next! Or sometimes at work out of the blue I’d think about someone in particular (Hey, what’s up with him? I haven’t seen him for ages!) and a few minutes later the person in question would enter my room.

Could I

I wrote once about Milla’s straightforwardness; now I’m adding “boldness” and “courage” to the expanding list of her good qualities (without a doubt she will strongly resist those words but I can’t help thinking that way and it gives me great pleasure to say it). The reason is one of her resent posts about her early London days. I had no idea that she has had to start literally from scratch . I asked myself could I do that; Could I leave my safe existence behind and tempt fate. Because if I don’t knock on that door I’ll never know what’s behind it.

If only

If only I could go back in time and start all over again I would:

- learn to play the piano(I’ve always wanted to do that) and the guitar and drums;

- go to a dancing school and become a professional dancer(nothing makes me feel so good as dancing; and I know I’m good at it);

- go to English classes(the more the better);

- pay proper attention to my own needs and desires instead of indulging someone else’s ambitions and expectations;

- not make the mistake to think I have all the time in the world…because I don’t.

Under pressure

So many things I must do-to buy a flying ticket to Bratislava; to book a hotel in Bratislava and Prague; to find a way to return from Prague; to find as much as possible information about Bratislava and Prague (maps, public transportation etc); to decide whether I’ll celebrate my birthday at all (God, I just hate, hate, HATE my birthdays; I always have, since my early childhood) and if yes to decide where and whom with…ARRRGGGHHH !!!

I need a vacation-a looong one. I think I’m allergic to my job. How unique…:(

The perfect drug

Today I exposed myself to a heavy dose of NIИ. I started in the early morning with YZ and at work I just loaded my WinAmp with all my NIИ-related audio files-precisely 1.54 GB of music which do not include 5 albums-basically all of the singles, tones of remixes, collaborations, life stuff, the QUAKE soundtrack and lots of covers(some of them are very good, some are a disaster). Today “Hurt” passed through my brains at least 10 times and I swear there were tears in my eyes each time especially when I heard my Vienna performance-who ever has made that recording deserves a medal. I put my headphones at about 8 AM. It’s almost 5 PM now and regrettably I have to put the headphones away. It was perfect.

You are the perfect drug
the perfect drug
the perfect drug...

Last night

Last night was a nightmare extended. Nothing specific happened to cause such depths of despair that I found myself in. Each day provided little portions of pain and when that pain goes unspoken and unhealed it just accumulates and at a certain point it becomes a burden too heavy for a mind to carry. Yesterday added another drop to the river of sorrow that I swim in for the past 15 years and I simply drowned in it. One would say that I should’ve learned by now how to keep myself on the surface but that has never been a pleasurable activity but a survival test sapping my strength to its end.
I swore never to throw a tantrum again. I swore never to show my emotions. I swore never to claim understanding and appreciation. I swore never to wait for forgiveness. I swore never to hope people to see things from my perspective.
I gave up life last night. I wanted to die more than ever and I meant it.

A late answer

I was asked recently whether I thought that momentary happiness was not happiness at all. Well, yes, I do think so. Happiness is not about feeling high all the time. I could be happy even when I’m sad…if only I believed. Happiness is about hope and hope is about faith. And I don’t mean religion. I don’t mind if people’s minds find sanctuary in the perception of a God but that just can not work for me. Faith means security; it means trust in happy endings; it means that no matter what mess you’re in you’ll find your way out.

Simple

Life is simple:

birth
breathe in breathe out eat waste
death

The body knows what to do. It’s the mind that gets in the way fucking up the scheme. All words we say are nothing but dust in our eyes. Life goes it’s own way.

A fine day

Simplicity is the word today; it was not planned; it comes as a conclusion. My body and my mind need a break and they’re taking it without consulting me which comes to my favor because I am not to make a good advisor right now. Best decisions are subconscious.

Today’s fortune slip: a new friend. Good; I’m in a short supply of friends and I can always use another one. OK, I know it’s just an expression but I strongly oppose that “to use a friend” phrase. I much prefer “to be in use of”; I’m more comfortable with giving than I am with taking.

That last thought just reaches another helping hand to my strong conviction that every human being acts out of selfishness. People always do what’s best for them. In some cases (I wish I could say “many cases” but it would be quite untrue) the consequences of their actions reflect in benefiting other people and the main purpose is other people but the performer to benefit from the final result. The explanation is quite simple: the performer feels good when he/she makes other people feel good. I see nothing wrong with that. In a world of so much evil and sadness it doesn’t matter why a good deed is done. In a greater scheme only reaching points count, not the path to them.

I’m sitting in a cafeteria waiting for my friends to show up. They’re late but I don’t mind; it gives me the pleasurable opportunity to gaze at a cute pugs sitting in her owner’s lap right in front of me. That dog is so ridiculously ugly that makes her look absolutely adorable. The moment is perfect in its simplicity and I need nothing more right now.
Almost nothing.

Closer on BYIT DVD

He changes just one word but what a difference it makes!

Instead of:

you let me violate you
you let me desecrate you
you let me penetrate you
you let me complicate you

he sings:

you let me violate you
you let me desecrate you
you want me penetrate you
you let me complicate you

I love that moment. And judging from the people’s reaction they’ve loved it too :)

Human after all

Despite its serious and meaningful lyrics Capital G makes me think of…striptease. I guess I just have a passion for the twisted. Contrasts attract me the way a mosquito is attracted to the blood floating beneath the skin…even if that means to be slapped. In a way that observation makes me feel good…I was beginning to worry I’ve become completely insensitive. Whether that has to do with feelings or instincts is a different question.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so reasonable. Am I using common sense to justify my cowardice?

The choice is yours…?!

Milla reminded me of how I got my The Smiths-This-Charming-Man-Morrissey albums-I had to order them and to wait for over a moth for the shipment. It is still not possible just to walk into any music store here in Bulgaria and simply buy them because these albums are not in stock. Shitty brainwashing pop-culture has overtaken every aspect of life! I don’t mind it in general; what I DO mind is the complete lack of options! How can a mind develop a personal taste if there’s no variety to choose from?

Ha :)

I and my best friend have a tradition: every Saturday or Sunday we go to a nice coffee shop to escape the worries of this mortal coil and we spent a few blissful hours speaking our guts out.
Bathrooms there are separated (thank God! Let sexes be united elsewhere but that field). Yesterday the lady’s room was taken so I had to wait a couple of minutes outside. It turned out it has been taken by a little girl at the age of 5 and her mother. The child was anything but discrete (some people spend their entire life in oblivion never really learning the meaning of the word “discretion”) so I could hear her talking crystal clear while she was washing her hands:

“- The next door is the man’s room, right mom?”
“- Yes, dear.”
“- Then why did that boy go to the lady’s room?”
“- It wasn’t a boy; it was a girl.”

I laughed like crazy.
Apparently that little child divides sexes by the clothes people wear. If you’re in trousers then you’re male; if you’re in a skirt then you’re a female. Sometimes I miss those ignorant days.

Has time stopped?!

As if I'm reliving the same day over and over again. Routine is lethal but I'm too tired to fight it back.