Pink chestnut tree blossom

No word play in the title this time. It is what it says it is-the blossom of a pink chestnut tree I’ve been planning to take a picture of for years and finally today I had my camera with me:

The scheme

I figured a way-not leading to something but getting me out of the mould I found myself sealed in. I’m going to take piano lessons. There. If I am not to create music then I can at least learn to play it. Now I only have to find a piano, a teacher, and, oh, to learn to read notes. I hope it works ‘cause it’s the only plan that I don’t find repulsively trivial and down-to-earth, the only plan that appeals to me, the only plan I can get passionate about. I’m not sure if it’s worth the trouble. No, in fact I am sure it isn’t worth the trouble-my importance that is. I don't fool myself-I’m just a grain of sand waiting to be washed away back into the ocean of oblivion but maybe by learning how to play music I will be one happier grain of sand until that happens. Maybe. We'll see how it goes. 

A ray

At least my friend is recovering-it was about time to receive some good news. She denies giving me any details so I’m still in the dark about what actually happened but she promised we’ll see each other soon and I don’t push her-it’s up to her to decide when to talk and it’s up to me to make sure she knows I care for her and that she can count on me. I miss her.

Indulgence

I recently made it my duty to donate money once a month to an animal rescue center. But yesterday there was a heartbreaking plea on their wall to raise money for the medical treatment of a particular dog and I had no chance but to donate for the second time this month. I figured: I am to spend that money at some point anyway-what difference would it make if I spend it now and for a good cause?  The next time I fancy something I’d like to have I’ll just pass and pretend to have already bought it. And knowing my money have helped an innocent soul escape death is priceless. Nothing compares to the love in a dog’s eyes.

Infusion

I have all the reasons to be depressed and yet I’m not-a bit crestfallen and poetically pensive but unmistakably outward-ishly tuned. That damned/blessed restlessness teasing the heart and fooling the mind…ah, must be the spring playing tricks on me. 

Dimming

I love it how life becomes larger than itself when night falls. Darkness filters substance allowing essence to stand out.

I always forget my essential is someone else’s trash. How fortunate that I no longer need other people’s approval to be comfortable with my preferences.

I’m growing a bit obsessed with this song. It creates for me a little bubble of dreaminess amidst the stiffness of reality:  

Need to know

Is reality capable of ever getting even close to the dream?

Darkness falls. Not the metaphorical one but the real darkness-right now it’s more of an evening rather than a day. In the obscurity of those hours it’s easier to believe in anything. I love the dark-belief brings me comfort…if only for awhile.

Heart at work

It’s not easy to tell with vague wishes but the one about the tiny miracle-hmm, it looks as if it got granted. The movie I saw on TV last night turned to be precisely what it took to distract my thoughts and keep them way above anything of mundane nature that it made me forget everything I wanted to forget about and that absolutely counts for a miracle as far as I’m concerned. A small one but last night it meant everything. 

As I was falling asleep a line from Sneaker Pimps’ “Destroying angel” stashed somewhere inside my mind crept out: “I know it doesn't pay to be this hurt.” But it’s not like you can put a seat belt to keep you safe in case of accidents of the heart is it?

It’s still considerably early for a Sunday but the world outside my windows is getting gradually saturated with noises of everyday life. I wonder what kind of a past today will turn into.

Over-

You know, a tiny miracle could save the day.

Oops, the day is almost over.

OK, forget it. I'll try to forget as well.

Drifting

Because words are useless and silence is scary while you wait to hear something you don’t want to hear but you will anyway.

I wish I had the power to rush time.

Black

My best friend is in a hospital. Her whole world is about to collapse. She’s terrified and it drives me insane that all I can do is pray for her. I am ready to pray to anyone who can grant her a miracle.

Today I’m afraid of tomorrow-of the sorrow it might bring and the smile it might snatch away.
There are those silly things you think you can't go without and there are those other things you better never learn you can't really go on without.

I pray. Pray with me, please. 

Code Red

I’m extra touchy today so I have to be extra careful not to slip a word. Writing that down makes the intention more of a promise rather than just a declaration.

4.50 PM

Surprisingly I did well with it-I was aggressive but not aimlessly abusive. Good-‘cause I might regret tomorrow what I don’t today.

Where the hell is the weekend?

Sensuous

I have a friend who is hyperactive. Next to her I’m like the Sleeping Beauty without the beauty part (modesty also requires to insert here “of course”; if not modesty-objectivity then). That vitality pouring out from her sometimes gets me down and, of course, my mind wondered why there was such difference in temperament and its manifestation.

And then I got it-I not so much care for what takes place but for how people react-not specifically but generally. What really matters to me are emotions people ooze and that is undoubtedly something that is not only out of my control but is hardly a matter liable to controlling…or rather desire-one can make things happen but one can’t make people feel this or that way.  Some care for facts; I care for motives. What’s the use of quantity without quality? 

For the good of

It’s Easter today so it’s either “God Given” or “Heresy” but it’s too early in the morning to nag at anyone. If there’s anything I believe in it is that people are free to believe in whatever they want. In return I only ask of people to respect my right not to share their beliefs. Excess is never up to any good. 

Alluringly assumptive

“It's a funny thing about life; if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it.” William Somerset Maugham

What a merciful way to excuse procrastination.

Submerged

Bills are paid, groceries are made, flowers are watered, the day is easy-going, I’m safe and sound in my seclusion from harm-right now as if I have no care in the world. But no joy as well.  I’m still in the grip of tiredness-hopefully tomorrow will shake it off my mind completely and I will look at the world the proper way-with eyes wondering and finding magic everywhere.  

Ah, it started to rain-I hear raindrops playing their music outside. Wonderful-the perfect setting for my melancholy. At least weather is in tune with my spirit.

Stand easy

There’s a positive outcome to be found (if one is to be looked for) in a complete exhaustion you know? Needs reduce to the basics with the focus on the present moment only-to make it through the day. Some kind of forced Zen-ish frame of mind.

Ah, but that was yesterday and right now that seems so long ago as if it never were. Today is Good Friday and that means I have four days off work. Four days! This morning I even stayed a bit longer in bed instead of jumping straight out of it-it felt close to surreal to just lie down fully awake and to consciously delight in the freedom to do nothing at all for as long as my heart desired.

I keep thinking today is Saturday but then it hits me the present is a day behind.

Four days.

Boiling dry

I’ve had worse days than today but then again not that many. Sometimes too much is simply too much. I’m like a ball of fire and someone has to get burned; and this time I refuse to be that someone-I’m not a bloody phoenix.

Patience is a virtue…really? Fuck patience.

OK, let’s now kill stress away before it kills me. The perfect ending for a day much less than perfect:

Deadlock

Misery of the spirit makes days seem endless. So much for the relative nature of time. 

Switching off

I know it doesn't pay to be this hurt

Falling off the morning getting worse

"Поговорката"

Поговорката  

От Никита Нанков

“Ще му мине като на куче.” Народна поговорка. Вековна мъдрост. Онзи, който я е измислил, само е мярвал куцукащи кучета по улиците и дворищата. После те са изчезвали някъде. И ето, един ден той пак ги е зървал здрави и читави. Със загладен косъм. Някогашните претрепани кучета. А може би други. Съвсем други. И тогава му е хрумнала поговорката. Той не е виждал куче да се подмята като парцал из въздуха. Да провлачва задница по паважа, докато автомобилът, който го е ударил, отфучава. Не го е носил на ръце до болницата. Не го е гледал в дома си как лежи пет дни без да пошавне. Не го е чувал как стене нощем. Не е пощурявал от високата му температура въпреки антибиотиците, аналгина и витамините. Не е гледал как всеки ден му бият инжекции. Не е виждал как вече не маха опашка, когато той се прибира вечер вкъщи и как сякаш му се извинява с очи за немощта си. Не е виждал как седмица не докосва храната в паничката до муцуната му. Не му е сковавал специална носилка, за да го изнася сутрин и вечер с нея. Защото пребитото куче ще умре, но няма да направи някои неща вкъщи, а само навън. Не се е радвал, че един хубав ден то се понадигва, заскачва на три крака и пак помахва опашка. Онзи, дето е измислил поговорката “ще му мине като на куче”, никога не е бил куче.  

14 юли 2002 г.

Reprise

This morning I looked for a particular single sheet of paper with a certain text on it printed from internet some years ago. I was sure I still had it-I never learned the art of throwing things away, and I knew it was stashed in one of the big shoe boxes full of many other prints. The search had no chance but to turn into a walk down the memory lane-inside I found tons of receipts for buying concert tickets, maps of cities I’ve been to, song lyrics, interviews, concert and album reviews (yes, all of it exclusively NIN related), as well letters and messages to me and my replies and blue prints of replies to Jonathan, Susanne, Carla, Karen, Andrea, (and, of course Mr.Nobody and Chimp...oh, my, was that even real?!), Kris, Sonja-hundreds of pages of it dating from 2001 to 2009. I had no recollection about being on such close terms with some of those people; I mean, I did recall liking them a lot but I had forgotten that they apparently had liked me equally back. We were discussing deeply personal issues, people sought my advice and came back later to thank me for it, to tell me what I advised them was right. One of them has written to me "I feel very fortunate to have you as my friend"-that one is from 4 years ago and she probably has meant it. It felt good to be reminded I have made a difference in someone’s life. Did I really become egocentric with time? I loved helping people out and I still do. Well, I guess my services are no longer required.

Memorabilia

I stopped using MySpace a couple of years ago but I never found the courage to deinstall it and so every time I turn on my PC I’m automatically logged into my MS account, meaning an IM box opens and I hear the familiar sound of alerts for new comments and messages. Ah, those were good times when that sound meant the whole world for me for there were people on MS who I cared for and they cared for me back...or so I thought. But that was then. I don’t know why I still keep it-there’s nothing thrilling about that sound anymore for there’s no one on MS I wait to hear from; and although it reminds of how it was it stings to be reminded as well it will be never again.

Trapped

When nothing works, when everything sickens me it’s so good to still have a safe place to retreat to.

Cocoon-ish

There is convenience in solitude-no one gets hurt when you’re not in a mood to pretend. As if mood has anything to do with it-sometimes everything feels so fucked up that as if someone you think you’re not, someone you don’t like, someone you would never say could be you, possesses you and you just...snap. Yeah, there is convenience in solitude. 

Gazing with eyes wide shut

My mind is blank but my heart yearns for breathless moments and still unmet special friends. I don’t need to know “when”, I only need to know “if at all”. I used to wish I could go back in time and change the past but I wish for that no more. My past led me to where and who I am now and given the unrealized alternatives I think I did considerably well. But the future…how can I make it worth remembering and remorse-free now that I know what I know?