Monday, July 28, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
happiness # 34
Just as you take my hand
Just as you write my number down
Just as the drinks arrive
Just as they play your favourite song
...and everything else.
Just as you write my number down
Just as the drinks arrive
Just as they play your favourite song
...and everything else.
Monday, July 21, 2008
message of the day (Dwr Budr Two)
last year it was Greece, this time it's Turkey. and i still want to say a big, incredibly meant 'Fuck You' to everyone throwing litter in our seas and oceans, from the smallest bit of paper to the largest amount of toxic waste. you're all responsible. Fuck You.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
on my keypad, on my laptop
i can reach, with one hand, from shift to shift. that. is. an. achievement!
song of the day (wedged in between tuesday and wednesday. and i have to get up early tomorrow)
Sigur Rós - Gobbledigook
(makes me happy in a very special way. not ecstatic, but rather... as if looking at things from a distance and feeling joy out of an abstract empathy with just about everything. as if i am a father watching his children play at a summer barbecue, even though i am not playing myself but merely sitting, in the sunshine, watching these children, my children, as they play. that kind of happiness. to be inside and outside of the world at the same time. and it is exactly that dual position that, paradoxically enough, is a soothing ointment to heal all schisms that perturbed me before. how i like to sit at that barbecue, on that summer afternoon. how i hope my children would never stop playing. how i am playing with them, even though i am sitting here. how i am playing with them, even though they do not exist yet. that is Gobbledigook for me -- and perhaps even more.
i also wish to thank the person who, during Sigur Rós's live concert at Rock Werchter on 5 July (a couple of days ago, indeed), had decided to start blowing bubbles. not loads of them, just two or three every now and then. it fit the music and the atmosphere perfectly. i watched just about every bubble floating by, soapingly encompassing the setting sun after a rainy day. i believe you, bubble-blower, are a girl, for i might have seen a flicker of you on one of the big screens. but whoever you are: thank you. you made a perfect moment last. i know you will probably never read this. but that's okay. i am certain you may feel this little emotion of mine, somehow, someday, someplace. let my thanks float out like bubbles.)
(makes me happy in a very special way. not ecstatic, but rather... as if looking at things from a distance and feeling joy out of an abstract empathy with just about everything. as if i am a father watching his children play at a summer barbecue, even though i am not playing myself but merely sitting, in the sunshine, watching these children, my children, as they play. that kind of happiness. to be inside and outside of the world at the same time. and it is exactly that dual position that, paradoxically enough, is a soothing ointment to heal all schisms that perturbed me before. how i like to sit at that barbecue, on that summer afternoon. how i hope my children would never stop playing. how i am playing with them, even though i am sitting here. how i am playing with them, even though they do not exist yet. that is Gobbledigook for me -- and perhaps even more.
i also wish to thank the person who, during Sigur Rós's live concert at Rock Werchter on 5 July (a couple of days ago, indeed), had decided to start blowing bubbles. not loads of them, just two or three every now and then. it fit the music and the atmosphere perfectly. i watched just about every bubble floating by, soapingly encompassing the setting sun after a rainy day. i believe you, bubble-blower, are a girl, for i might have seen a flicker of you on one of the big screens. but whoever you are: thank you. you made a perfect moment last. i know you will probably never read this. but that's okay. i am certain you may feel this little emotion of mine, somehow, someday, someplace. let my thanks float out like bubbles.)
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Friday, July 04, 2008
so, i finally did it
on my way home, i finally, really, genuinely, hugged a tree. i did it. and it felt...
great, actually.
great, actually.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
poem of the day
we will taste the islands
and the sea
I know that some night
in some bedroom
soon
my fingers will
rift
through
soft clean
hair
songs such as no radio
plays
all sadness, grinning
into flow.
- Charles Bukowski
Sunday, June 22, 2008
song of the day (no, yesterday. yesterday!)
Maurice Ravel - Pavane pour une enfante défunte (the orchestral version)
(i've liked this one a long time now. but yesterday, hearing it again, i suddenly felt all tired -- in a nice way. as if here there was contentment.
such grace, as if our sighs are caught in the endless robes of a slowly dancing princess, all alone, not entirely there. such tenderness we might feel for her. we are floating on a strange instance of eternity, and never does it seem to bother. we are ever moving, and no one might be watching.
i would never want it to end.)
(i've liked this one a long time now. but yesterday, hearing it again, i suddenly felt all tired -- in a nice way. as if here there was contentment.
such grace, as if our sighs are caught in the endless robes of a slowly dancing princess, all alone, not entirely there. such tenderness we might feel for her. we are floating on a strange instance of eternity, and never does it seem to bother. we are ever moving, and no one might be watching.
i would never want it to end.)
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