an end, once more. a start, even more.

happiness # 61:

no matter what has happened, no matter what happens -- i'm still here. i'm always here. it's the one thing i can be sure of - to be here, to be now - and all else fades into oblivion. no, forget that. all else comes into existence, in the best way possible.

sadness # 9:

no matter what has happened, no matter what happens -- i'll always still be here. even though i sometimes want to be nowhere. (but that is just a responsability i have to take up.)

song of the day:

Goldfrapp - Clowns

nice words # 16:

hymn

nice cd cover # 18:

Pink Floyd - Meddle

happiness # 60

the feeling of uncooked linguine in my hands, soft and elegant

happiness # 59

the smell of olives, pungent, oily, strong, under trees. even though i don't eat them.

happiness # 58

a mood light sonata

and here it ends again. no, forget that. here it begins--

happiness # 57:
over the past year i've written 13 happiness-posts. this means there was, on average, at least one thing every month to be happy about.
and i had a spare.

moreover, it's been a year since i last wrote a 'sadness'-post. which is nice.



sadness # 8:
all that passes



song of the day:
Eels - Fresh Feeling



nice words # 11:
cataclysm



nice cd cover #14:




Moby - Wait for Me (deluxe edition)

happiness # 56 / nice words # 10

lavender

happiness # 55

memory

and the soft, autumnal nostalgia

that ensues.

happiness # 54

a rainbow-colored kite

happiness # 53

(quality is not fantastic because taken with my cellphone. this does not change the moment, though.)

happiness # 52

a deep sleep. woke up. opened my window. opened my curtain.

lay down again, in order to absorb the first airs of day. but so much light?

in my entire room, a single small square of sunlight, exactly on my pillow. nowhere else.

a reserved spot.

oh, to feel this. as if warmth alone. as if face nothing more. to be highlighted, to lay in that tiny field of soft.

defined by sunlight.

happiness # 51

this, here. as i am sitting here. here; now. yes, now.

silly sunglasses on my head. bubble blower next to me. clouds embracing with tiny-tall hands the so light sky. distant music; and i am here.

remembrances of Catcher in the Rye; reading it, warm April summertime.

yes it was.

parks in my head. some water. a stream.

Pink Floyd's Cluster One.

oh, my head loves to turn and spin. 'nomad soul' sounds so heavy. let's just call it a seabound soul then. but with body as shore, i love to embark, and return. fingers on skin; clouds on veiled cirrus blue.

long, slow notes. a small smile unexpected. a day on which to land, and fall like deeply red leaves. songs such as no radio plays.

like bubbles.

blow bubbles.



sure, none of this might make sense. all these things are just me, and perhaps even hermetic (i suddenly see the word 'hermit' in the word 'hermetic', for no apparent reason). but there is one single, universal principle that could account for any of you as well. this, here. here; now. yes, now.

and here.

happiness # 50

every time i live through an intense moment of happiness, a bird flies through the sky.

or even more than one.

happiness # 49

one red balloon.

happiness # 48

to listen to the soft, crackling sound of a match after you've blown it out. as if crystallizing, in wood.

happiness # 47

coastline here bay here rocks here trees with dry skins here some birds here boats, yes here rocks here sand, but only here and there here still, sand here height here slight roll of water here whoosh here almost bare feet here rocks here veil-like cloud here reflections here as if no sounds here watch with small eyes here sky here distant shuffle of a bare, inaudible wind here rocks here such a deep here yes, blue here never to leave

happiness # 46

trees

happiness # 45

the great Jaguar Shark

and, together: Starálfur.


as if one.

happiness # 44

late-night parking lots, scattered around the world. sometimes with small puddles of rain, sometimes with scraps of torn paper belonging to no one. sometimes with just one car, sometimes with three cars. late-night parking lots.

and so this concludes for now

happiness # 43:
being me


sadness # 7:
being me


song of the day:
Radiohead - Reckoner


nice words # 8:
conundrum

nice cd cover # 9:

R.E.M. - New Adventures in Hi-Fi

happiness # 42

an owl flew next to me when i was biking just now, some five or ten minutes ago. then it disappeared. then it reappeared, and disappeared again. then i noticed it was following me. once again, i lost track of it, seemingly for good this time -- until i looked aside and saw it sitting on a pole, watching me. we made eye contact for a couple of seconds.

then it flew off, headed for whatever darkness would be its home during the rest of the night.