::
2006 7 January :: 3.48 am
beatrice=katrien?
nightmares, katrien.
those who brought us existence... we ignore them; we are lost to those who feared nothing but to be forgotten by their children, grandchildren, great grandchildren. who ignores the screams of our ancestors? why do they not haunt our dreams? we steep ourselves in their blood, the toil of the farmer, the ease of the hunter. we've forgotten it all. our brothers are alien. urns spilled open with the ash of our forefathers, sacrificial wine spilled on the altar floor, and we use it to plow the earth until it gives no more.
no skulls, no feathers, just sickness. and sometimes distant dreams of current times.
-- |
::
2006 4 January :: 3.21 am
i feel hope. beatrice's anger abates and gives birth to her hope, love, and understanding.
some other people, here, can't talk now... but we must start to understand again.
-- |
::
2005 28 December :: 11.46 pm
if i were to stab out my eyes, would the pity be strong enough on the outside for that, if i were to take my own life, it would be justified?
'i've got to, got to, got to kill myself' she says
kind of lightly like it's nothing too important to remember to do
-
haven't felt like this - like i should be screaming - in a while.
-
i love you. i love you i love you i love you; have i asked myself yet why i am doing this...?
[either way, i will end up the fool...]
i am the fool. stick to it. knives and skin. you can't livei knowicantlive
not without you
compromise. do you know this?
-- |
::
2005 28 December :: 11.41 pm
i can't stand it.
-- |
::
2005 23 December :: 2.51 am
not be cocky not be pretty not be good good good let's not.
self-depreciation, please begin
[intelligence won through stupidity?]
-- |
::
2005 20 December :: 5.24 pm
i always think of these things, these dreams of the future, that seem so nice and doable.. and yet somehow, i believe they will never come true. things like painting walls are never something that i actually do, even though it is far easier than i make it out to be... nothing is really THAT impossible, but years of 'i can't' seem to have trained me otherwise.
strange how the seasons change, and we still eat the same foods like nothing is different. we are not true humans, sometimes...
----
i want a home. i want one home, not two or three. somewhere to be warm in the winter without having to move back and forth with and without packing objects.... i'd like to believe i don't need them, but i do, it's true.
apples and such.
-- |
::
2005 1 December :: 6.14 pm
:: Music: dark design; white lips kissed
[fear me, december, for we come dangerous turn]
--
and we're happy for a while but then sometimes. you know. if i have to write about you behind your back, then i'm just being stupid about it, i guess.
honestly, there's nothing to write about in the end.
sweet furious giggles, we're ten years old
nineteen beating each other up
heads in lock
locks on heads in hands, fingers, grasped, pulling
and smiling, this is our anger
[together]
twelve
nineteen years
eighteen hours
we don't sit and fester.
[ourloveisaficklelove
but it is not in a suitcase
cemented
would we rather die, rather i die
than our hands separate for
something
like ever]
and i still feel something like that sadness.
i said to you
'childish'
we are
we are
we are
not growing up
[fast enough?]
how will we solve this when we're ninety...?
-----
tricky; and i know the knots. i've never been through this maze before but i can handle all the turns. if not, i can still graze through the walls. barely make it through, but i still do.
you see red burning little churning inside because even though on the surface twelve twelve hate; i saw instead we said
this is just silly - i love you.
i didn't i didn't change anything on purpose but this paradigm isn't
i rescued dimes for you FOR you and i can't seem to make it work for my self instead
of the stead i just
can't get the words written write[right][right?]
-- |
::
2005 18 November :: 9.04 pm
i hope this is a phase...
stop saying forever, it's so scary because it's so real. i don't want to touch it
not... yet
this does not predict anything; the past means nothing; i do not know myself; next year, perhaps we'll be different [better! fuck, i say BETTER] and i don't want to throw myself
every time
she cried the wolf came
my tears did not flow so far
chin held its ground
a bit more
a bit less
until it became that immunity injektion..
i am used to it; sterile, frozen again in the face of what was my worst fear.
this isn't what it used to be, but then again, things change, things shift, as we grow accustomed to them. i want you to settle in my heart and my mind like a parasite there is no cure for.
sew it up and heal.
-- |
::
2005 18 November :: 1.14 am
form does not breed purpose
the cuts on my chest, i should dwell
that i am no better than my peers
drowning in this scent of healing flesh
and ignoring anything behind
it
littlewalls
little
red
marks
-- |
::
2005 5 November :: 7.00 pm
:: Music: cibo matto - stone
never stop needing you.
everything i tried to tell myself about things being out of it crumbled,
a reflection of sorts
of her,
falling apart in my arms
and all i can do
i can't stop myself, don't want to stop myself
from telling the truth.
-- |
::
2005 31 October :: 9.58 pm
it seems tonight, as all nights of this date have before, hold a strange aura. i saw, on the bus, my eyes rolled back, the black trees passed by, the lights passed by, switching and switching, i felt and heard all of the static of being. rolling. onward. waiting for this battery to die. and yet constantly pulsating.
a year ago, i was waiting. now, i am still waiting in this moment, but i don't have to wait weeks or months or years with nothing in the meantime to hold on to. i just have to wait a few hours, and this gives me some time to myself -- something i don't get much more very often. this is a good thing. ego is death.
i see myself as others see me now. i still get pinpricks and raised skin and the nownownowdestruction rek wants, her hammers still scream for death of all that causes it... but i see reality and dislunacy. people walk and see and interpret. we are all being and essence of being. we all judge each other like we should not be judged... but being sinners, this gives us the right to know what it is to sin.
i am not supposed to reach into the darkest of my self, my mind, the most disconnected, and bring it out forth for them to see, but sometimes i do. i do this because i feel it. i do this because they need to see sometimes. nothing is amazing, yet everything is incredible. i do this because sin, the 'darkness', the eyes rolling back into my head and pulling me into the bones of music and film and vibration rolling through me, because being absent from all that 'really' is, is enlightenment.
-- |
::
2005 30 October :: 9.27 pm
the only spiritual experiences i have ever been through have occured because of art/music.
-- |
::
2005 30 October :: 6.23 pm
i just realized what ego is.. one of those things that's been there all along.
how about that.
-- |
::
2005 18 October :: 3.17 pm
world 2 - manipulated living
kyrr, maikki, erasmus, katrien, subira, rek [arekstur], sidney
aka. underworld/overworld? halo/nimbus? cloak/atmosphere? viel? past the wall?
no, i can feel it when i go past that 'wall' with these colors and these lines and this thickness of brush. more like thick plastic opaque. pulling or pushing like little.... i don't know. it's past consciousness, or deep into subconscious. related symbolic jealousy symbiotic inertiatichands little lines in our eyes they make worlds that don't exist
how can something like this be real?
--
right now, i keep pulling out onto paper:
constance, lazeyka, rek, maikki, katrien, ras, sidney.
-- |
::
2005 18 October :: 3.10 pm
big fat wooden beads, big round carved barrels, my priestess shamaness mistress. this is my world and i shouldn't limit beatrice to just herself. remove limitations from everything, or else going past reality and going through to exaggeration, creativity, and excelled beauty will be nearly impossible.
-- |
::
2005 17 October :: 6.42 pm
in past ages it seems like there was only a little bit known and a few who strived and notsomuch from the past to look back to. now, here, it's a struggle, because sometimes it seems i can turn to any angle and see each prodigy - an age below who is a talent above - who i otherwise would not have known about.
perhaps a bruise to the spirit is what i repeatedly need, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt each time.
maybe i should do something else, but whenever i try it seems like i am wasting time away from the 'only thing i am good at'. i can't play music as well, i can't write, i can't act, for fuck's sake i can't even take a goddamn photograph as 'well' as i can turn pixelated smudges into something i call my own, something i could actually be proud of. and i show these things off because i want praise yesiwantpraise... without it, what am i?
without the praise, am i worthless? ignored?
i wonder who i would be if i had not found this. probably still no one, except even more lost-in-life.
-- |
::
2005 10 October :: 12.30 am
:: Music: thief
and we can't let go because this will not go away.
-- |
::
2005 7 October :: 4.53 pm
:: Music: pinkmaggit
so let it go.
And I'm with you,
Alone,
I'm so ----------
--------afraid
I might lose her
.so
forget about me
Because I'll stick you
Pushed back to square
Now that i need her.
-- |
::
2005 29 September :: 9.12 pm
come back to me, my darling..
i haven't beenfelt her[happy] since i was eighteen.
-- |
::
2005 28 September :: 5.58 pm
:: Music: eisley - i wasn't prepared
a sweetness i am used to; knowing how that feels. hands on faces.
no, i'm sorry. swordthrough, by beautiful bulldye, the e ras mus, the loved. ;i wasn't prepared for this;!! a snarling maikki, bitterbitter. she holds her face in her hand, the bloodied fingers from the loved victim's wound from her, on to her, onto her again. her other hand curls around mica's outstretched fingers, crooked in desperation. what did i do? a mere feeling, a personification, a bloody death of that. i wasn't prepared, she says, because none of us[them] were. and yet, fictitous as this is, i can feel, in the song, in the words, in the deliverance, in the deliverance from evil nostalgia, emotions i run from, what maikki feels. desperation of both of them. not be ing pre pared for this.
but
she is something i don't feel anymore, so there is not much to having her around anymore, either.
-- |
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