When I am tired

everything becomes heavy and weary to do and move. I get slow and dumb. Sleep feels like falling into a deep black hole. Waking up like hitting the ground.

At this point

I visited my past yesterday. It didn't change much what makes me somewhat confident, because i seem to change faster than my environment. Everything was on the same places, walking by on the same streets, restaurants and shops filled with nameless people showed me, that i am for sure a stranger there for the people, but not for the city. It seemed to greet me in a quiet, knowing way.

The World is Stone

Stone, the world is stone
It's no trick of the light
It's hard on the soul

Stone, the world is stone
Cold to the touch
And hard on the soul
In the grey of the streets
In the neon unknown
I look for a sign
That I'm not on my own
That I'm not here alone

As the still of the night
And the choke of the air
And the winner's delight
And the loser's despair
Closes in left and right
I would love not to care

Stone, the world is stone
From a faraway look
Without stars in my eyes
Through the halls of the rich
And the flats of the poor
Wherever I go

There's no warmth anymore
There's no love anymore

So I turn on my heels
I'm declining the fall
I've had all I can take
With my back to the wall
Tell the world I'm not in
I'm not taking the call

Stone, the world is stone
But I saw it once
With the stars in my eyes
When each colour rang out
In a thunderous chrome
It's no trick of the light
I can't find my way home
In a world of stone

(Michel Berger, Luc Plamondon and Tim Rice)

Tired

Is it the month thats tiring me? I feel like drifting, floating. Not belonging anywhere. People fill places where i should be but i am not able to state a claim. If they not want me to be there, why should i force it? I need to be needed, otherwise there is no sense in even trying. I am exhausted, burned out, i'm falling in no specific direction. These days come an go, sure. But they come more often and they stay longer everytime. The space in between, when i am able to produce something, when i feel connected (well.. feeling loved is out of the list, since that is something i barely remember) are so hard to reach that when i do, i don't find the power to care for it.

10 things I hate about you

I hate the way you talk to me
and the way you cut your hair
I hate the way you drive my car
I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots
and the way you read my mind
I hate you so much it makes me sick
it even makes me rhyme.

I hate the way you're always right
I hate it when you lie
I hate it when you make me laugh
even worse when you make me cry

I hate it that you're not around
and the fact that you didn't call
But mostly I hate the way I don ' t hate you
not even close,
not even a little bit,
not even any at all.
(The whole script here)

Getting disconnected

Working with magic makes you able to control your environment. You will do so, at the beginning. After some time you will find that there is always a price to pay. Are you ready to pay it? I tell you one of those prices: It is getting disconnected from everything exciting. You begin to avoid surprises, because they don't fit into an image of someone having everything under control. Sure you have, but then, isn't this only so because you have more distance to things? This distance will be a gap someday, the people around you cannot cross anymore to reach you. So please take care to save yourself the ability to wonder, to get surprised, to get angry and in rage. It will help you to remain connected.

Don't give me songs

Give me something to sing about
I need something to sing about

Life's a song you don't get to rehearse
And every single verse
Can make it that much worse

Still, my friends
don't know why I ignore
The million things or more
I should be dancing for

All the joy
life sends
Family
and friends
All the twists
and bends
knowing that
it ends
Well, that depends
On if they let you go
On if they know enough to know
that when you've bowed
You leave the crowd

There was no pain
No fear, no doubt
Till they pulled me out of heaven

So that's my refrain
I live in hell
'Cause I've been expelled from heaven
I think I was in heaven

So give me something to sing about
Please give me something...

(from "Life's a show" out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer Ep 6-07)

Did i say sparks?

I'm out of them, now. Whew, this was fast. Perhaps it's been the mistake in the first place to search for grace.
Hey! Isn't freedom great? I don't know. Humans use their freedom like they use the rest of their environment: Without any respect or responsibility. They are so gifted and they abuse it, rape it, fuck around with it and say "Hey! You are so dumb to give it to us! Look, we can waste you with it, now! And we do, because we are free to do it!". Gettin' kicked and trampled by all those free people who do this just because they can does not make much sense to me either. I am not too sure, who will win in the end: my patience or their freedom. Either way, it won't be very pleasant for 'em. But then, they will complain, how wrong everything went and if they only had known. Hey! I told you! It was you who does not listen!

Sparks and small lights

If you see one, go for it. Why should you look for hope, relief, forgiveness if you are not ready to commit into it when you finally seem to find it? Don't try to determine, if it's a trick. if it is, it will show soon enough, if it's not, you would have passed the moment. It will be harder to find another chance than to deal with a disappointment. If you had some trouble already, some more is no big deal really. Knowing that you missed the turning of the tide can make you abandon all further hope. Don't do that.

If you are suicidal

don't try to speak with me: I could understand your point.
Am i burned out? Yet?

Forgetting who i am...

i'm not sure, if all these crap happens because i lost myself in a life, i'm not really fitting into. I hoped for more flexibility, more possibilities to participate in change, in the flow of things and my life seemed to give me all the tools i needed for it. But now i sit here wondering why i can't move at all. As soon as i try to everything seems to implode, to barr me from my goal. What was my goal again? I thought i knew it, i seem to have forgotten it in the mists of being a civilized human.

Too sunny to feel bad

Blue sky and bright sun in autumn. If you feel depressed or sick or tired, go outside. For a walk or a short trip. I do.

Fix me a lobotomy, then!

"What else, for christ sake!" - Problem is, there are still some working areas in my life. Still a few friends and people who care for me. So there are plenty possibilities for some more new disappointments and crappy developments. I know, that sounds like a selffulfilling prophecy. But i just don't know how to handle all this. There are friends - well former friends - of mine, telling everyone they meet that they don't like me and what kind of asshole i am. I don't even know, what made them angry about me in the first place (I asked, of course, but the answer was that they don't have grudges against me and everything is ok), and i don't know, why they feel the urge, that everyone should know that i'm a bad person.
I don't want to think about all this, really. Those former friends are not my concern anymore, i can live with that, really. My only point here is, that i lost friends, i did not want to lose, but hey, in time it will pass into oblivion. No, what really pisses me off is the amount of all those different but concurrent events, that hack into my life from all directions that really wears me out at the time. I am losing every grip to steadiness. It paralizes me. And i thought, last year was atrocious...

can't sleep

I'm sitting at the screen, klicking the same websites again and again and can't just go to bed and sleep. I know that i will be tired tomorrow but it's just... no, i don't know what it is. I just could stand up and turn the computer off. But i don't do it. What am i waiting for? Can't say until its here, i guess. Same yesterday. Same tomorrow, i think.

Don't trust written words

they are cheating you, because you will read what you want to read. You don't hear a voice, when you read, so what do you know about the intentions of the author? Nothing - you don't know if he is thoughtful or hateful, if he wants to just cheer you up or smack you down. A written conversation lacks everything a conversation is good for: the compassion and the communication of feelings that you hear and see when you talk with someone face to face.

Ruby Tuesday

She would never say where she came from
Yesterday don't matter if it's gone
While the sun is bright
Or in the darkest night
No one knows
She comes and goes

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

Don't question why she needs to be so free
She'll tell you it's the only way to be
She just can't be chained
To a life where nothing's gained
And nothing's lost
At such a cost

There's no time to lose, I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind.
Ain't life unkind?

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

Jagger/Richards

Archbishop of Canterbury Dr George Carey

"At times like these there is nothing we can say that can stem the waves of grief, regret and reproach.
Our first duty is to express our love and our deep, deep sympathy to Holly and Jessica's parents, and to watch and weep with them in these dark days.
In the midst of this tragedy, we can only take our hurt and grief at this bewildering tragedy and place it in God's hands, remembering the words of Psalm 23; Yea, thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil; for thou art with me' remembering that God's unconquerable love, shown to us in Jesus, surrounds Holly and Jessica and their parents. Pray for them."
There is this feeling sometimes, that you may do whatever possible and try to make the stand for humanity and hope and then, you just can't stop thinking, that all this hope is worth just as much as crossing the deep waters with a spoon as paddle. Wrong instrument for an even unreachable goal.
Of course, what matters is, not to let loose in the long term. But it is so tiresome. Sometimes i think of me as a manufacturing defective: I am not half as deteminded and faithful as the kindred ones.

Windmills of Your Mind

Round, like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel.
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnaval balloon
Like a carousell that's turning
Running rings around the moon

Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on it's face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of it's own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream.

Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on it's face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle your head
Why did summer go so quickly
Was it something that I said
Lovers walking allong the shore,
Leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand

Pictures hanging in a hallway
And a fragment of this song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
As the images unwind
Like the circle that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Pictures hanging in a hallway
And the fragment of this song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Words and music by Alan Bergman and Michel Jean Legrand

One day in paradise

Yesterday i had one day in paradise. Caused by a heavy migraine i just did not want to think, to listen or see anything at all. I switched off the radio, closed the window and remained in my bed. Awake, but without any deeper thought i held this status of complete disconnection from anything important for one whole day.
And even if my head tried to implode with every move or noise, it was a great relaxing and comforting experience: nothing to do, nothing to think about, just letting the time pass and not even noticing it. Unaware of the world outside, unconscious for any responsibility, floating in a limbo of ignorance i came back to this world and felt: this is what we lost. This was our life in eden, a life we abandoned in exchange for consciousness and development. But sometimes, if we are in heavy pain, we may go back for a short time. I am just not sure why: It could be either a heavenly grace to sustain times of agony, or a mean curse - a bad sardonic lesson because when its over, the burden of life outside of paradise has to be taken again. And then you realize that this self-determined life may be worse than the greatest physical pain.
I can understand these People, who would like just to get back into their pod, dreaming a happy life, chewing on a imaginary steak and humming "Mmh, ignorance is bliss!". They would love to live in the lies of an comfortable hell and kill for it. I have an idea now, why.

Summer Rain

I especially like the hours before the rain starts. it is like a small symphony. First it gets dark from the east and for a moment everything gets calm and quiet. Just one bird doesn't care and goes on singing as if he knows that he got his chance for a solo right now. Then the wind comes up. Slow at first, and warm, because it just moves the heated air. Time is of no matter, there will be no announcements of the schedule. But sooner or later the best part of the overture will follow: breezes of cooled, fresh air, coming in like unknown guests from far away, teasing you with feelings of anticipation because you know that they are foreboding an upcoming change.
and then you hear it: The first far roaring of thunder and i lean back. Nature will run a change now. I can't and i surely will not do anything about it. The rain and thunderstorm does it's work and i got a break, watching nature doing it's stuff uncontrolled and unimpressed.