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Thursday, June 11, 2015

Caro Michele



...just wanted to check in on you and see how you've been all these years. Hoping your English is better than my Italian now and you get me, though regardless of language I know you  get me. Just wanted to say that there are bullies on the playground. You remember that painting I did a few years back, with one figure in the tub and a black figure drinking her bath water with a straw? and everyone found that so weird. There are images like that, that pop into my head and no one gets it, because maybe they haven't had the experience of someone walking into their bath, someone trying to drink up all their bath water through a straw. They probably all take quick uninterrupted showers, that's okay, let them. Caro Michele, people have people who love them, and  give them back rubs at the end of a long day, and they don't squeeze the bone marrow out of each others' brittle bones. on a playground where there is no bullies, someone holds your feet like it was a bouquet of flowers and they won't want anything back. They hold your feet because they are YOURs and if you are lucky enough they'll even walk them for you over bridges and planes. Into fairy tales or the imagination of crazy girls who'd like to imagine things like this actually exist. Cats who wait for their owners to come home. girls who wait for the cat owner to come home. hearts that you give out like free food (like nazri), hearts that end up on the ground here and there, like food containers after a picnic. like trash. Someone draws you a bath and you simmer in it, someone else comes and drinks from it through a straw and you let them and you watch them and you caress their forehead lovingly all the way through it. 

Wednesday, April 01, 2015

April 1st in Mitte

" ...but now she curled up in my embrace and let herself be carried to a place from which there would be no return . So i carried her, and at each step i felt her getting heavier until i could scarcely drag her. I was afraid, we were frightened of one another we wanted each other so much ...."
I've been looking to literature as a refuge , as the ultimate solace ...i've been looking to literature to find traces of my own kind, for similarities to my experiences..in a naive way i feel if i find the likes of me somewhere in the written word, then it's okayer to be me, there's been others  ... So recently in this book i bought in Prague i've found some relief... Its odd how there are things you feel unsafe to share with the closest to you and one day in a strange land leafing through books you stumble upon your remedy, it wraps around you like a soft blanket and protects you from the chill of self doubt
Today i sat in a bakery in Mitte, watched beautiful people come and go , my own reflection in the glass door and the whole of the tv tower , holding the book to my chest like a bible, i felt understood , gotten. 

Monday, February 23, 2015

There are facts i don't consider, like how an anemic shouldn't donate blood. Like you need at least one functioning  kidney to survive.
" do not deplete your reserves"
 i sit and search for the knots in my stomach as if trying to feel the kicks of an unborn non- existent son.  There is a hollow where there used to be : my guts
There's a drought where there used to be: blood
...what am i?
A woman missing her middle parts.
What am I ?
A strange sense of loss
What am I?
An incomplete connect the dots result , with hurried colours sticking out of my lines
Of which children's' workbook or adult's puzzle, i don't know ... All i know is that i don't ever get to water my plants with my own blood and they always dry out and die as a result
.
.
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" this time  i'm gonna keep me all to myself, this time..."

Friday, February 06, 2015

Sometimes i get so dark, you can see the stars in me 

Monday, February 02, 2015

Dolphin hotel. 5334 de gaspé

The elevators in 5334 de gaspé remind me of Murakami's Dolphin Hotel. Out of three , two are renovated, they gladly pick you up on the ground floor with festive music and the announcer , cold gray steel and futuristic blue lighting. They take you to the 7th floor if thats where you are headed but don't  ever come back for you. It only took half a year to get them renovated and they only go up. The third one is a sad old rusty one with buttons you have to push with all your strength to barely light up a dying cigarette orange light. That one does come back for you, only occasionally,  only when it feels like it, but makes that random dolphin hotel stop on the 12 th floor. And soon as the doors open on the secret floor, instead of the pitch black, you get the city panorama and cold cream tiles ... There is never anybody waiting there for it on The 12 th floor... You know no one has called it up there. You still get the chills and push the close-door button in a rush. Even though there is no one waiting for either of you on any of the floors. Because at 5334 de gaspé all you ever see are closed doors, mazed empty hallways and infinite cement. It's all a big void with the abandoned glory of housing isolated creative souls. It slaps your clichéd definition of getting -high -having -anonymous -sex -ever-so-cool artist in the fucking face with its concrete form. Because thats where we all hide to dream, in the Dolphin hotel. 

Thursday, January 29, 2015

confessions of a tired mind

My dear Hansel
I don't know where you are, I thought we were in this together, I thought they abandoned us together, left us here to get lost together ...I thought we got tempted together and ate our way to the cannibal witch's house together...
I thought once I got trapped you'd help me think my way out of this. you were always the more sensible one. But I wound up here disillusioned by our grim fable that we'd go through what we'd go through holding hands...I'm all by myself dear, and all I see are dizzying rays of darkness and tree trunks..tree trunks all around me...and leaves that crunch under my feet and shadows. not a light in sight and i'm scared shitless dear... of more darkness and more tree trunks and branches like spider webs not letting me pass...I want to sleep in the arms of a giant bear and let him carry me up the mountain to his cave where there's a bonfire and baby bears. I want to speak a language no one understands and hear a language i don't speak. I want to wake up and not know where I am or how I got there.
 My dear Hansel I'm exhausted and can't think of a way out of here. Maybe I'll let her feed me, maybe i'll fatten up for her, maybe I'll let her eat me...