happy snack

Joy

hurt. i'm programmed to reason, to seek just explanations, to play fare. knowing well - fair is the opposite of free and so i'm doomed to fail. now all is fair, and all makes sense and it hurts. just like it did few years back, when i was setting myself up for this very pain. only i welcomed it then, lived it and loved it, unlike now, when all i feel is this black void of disillusion. now the outcome of all this hurt is sleeping peacefully next door. weird chemistry of escapes and anticipations, hopes, dreams, domestic disasters, beautiful minds and long talks, words, letters, messages, signs..love, by all means. it died. i knew it, knew exactly when it happenned, knew why, but i went on, afraid to say it outloud. i should've screamed, kicked, ran for my life.i didn't, and he didn't. and when it was no more, a child was born. born into this deafening emptyness between two strangers, into life filled with resentment and guilt. so much for love.. hurts.

connections

If this was a view out my window, I'd spend my mornings on chanting and quiet contemplation..Now its just a grey-white merky blizzard through the blinds and a quicky getting me out of bed.


And here's the real coffee to go with the view, just like my dad made it, turkish, in a tiny cup, thick and foamy, and oh so strong..

And a friend to talk about Dostoyevsky and puke and everything in between..

random flashback, beautiful, miss it

the perfect moment
I thought many times in the past
that the moment was the one
I would choose
if I had to choose only one
but I just had the perfect moment
where I felt like a piece
of a jigsaw puzzle
all twisted with legs going
one way
and arms and head another
yet everything fit
and the other pieces
locked into me
I was part of a perfect moment
where everything felt right
and good
for that moment
warm and snugly
but with my mind at peace
my heart filled with love
and my soul full of joy
for that moment I was more than one
I was more
perfect
for a moment
posted by carson at 10:10 PM on Dec 5, 2007

abandoned treasure

I wonder what happened to this bloggger..when I first stumbled on this blog I had goosebumps reading..its been dead for over 2 years. I'll keep it here, I feel very protective of it somehow. And the funny thing is I'm afraid I killed it -- I left a comment, a NICE one !..and there was nothing since. Damn..

http://nearlyunbearable.blogspot.com/

jump

R.I.P.

post-trip-tum

I did have a vacation after all, cursed cruise or not -- I went to Mexico. My dad sais Mexico is one of the "energy centers" of the world and after having gone 5 times, I believe it. The sun, the sea, the ruins -- the works. I LOVE Mexico. And this time I expanded my "vacation to-do list" with zip-lining, rappeling, and snorkeling in caves. There's nothing quite like jumping off a cliff and zipping through the jungle to get ready for a new and demanding job. I think I'm ready :) One thing I was NOT ready for is bumping into one of my ex-husbands, and not the one I stayed friends with, oh no..But we pretended not to see each other for 5 days and no one got hurt. Just burnt. I'm talking extra-crispy-hurts-to-blink kinda burnt..NEVER happened to me before, but here I am, all dark and disturbed, and with a bad cold too..but the rest of me healed rather nicely :))) Oh, well, there's always something. Among things I'll remember from this trip (that are not X-rated) and will write about in detail later -- the caves, the whole underground river world hidden beneath the touristy beaches, the cemetery of Xcharet -- I haven't seen anything like it, and Madlen :)

This is it

Not that I've been a huge fan past my teens..BUT, as I happened to go to a matinee WHILE THE POWERLESS CRUISE SHIP I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ON WAS SLOWLY SINKING NEAR PUERTO RICO..I was stunned by the makings of all this, by the scale and perfection of what would have been, undeniably, the best show in the history of pop. He was AMAZING. So awkward and grotesque everywhere else and so natural on stage, super-natural, rather. When he danced -- he was beautiful, powerfull, in complete control of that body, so fragile, vulnerable, and so impossibly expressive..his hands alone were unbelievable. There's no fucking way one can create an image of such magnitude and at the end of the day just go home and be something else, something LESS. That's what ultimately killed him, I think. There's not enough Propofol to contain, calm THAT sort of energy. Perfection equals death in a sense. And he was a perfect act. I just can't imaging him "aging gracefully", can't imagine him aging at all. Weird, misplaced, grotesque, UNREAL -- yes, but not old. This cartoonish world he created sustained him till there was no room to grow. He died ridiculed by many but surpassed by none..

city, rain, reflections

The simple things..

"Родительские поучения могут и не спасти от гибели вашу пуританскую совесть; но если вы выпрямитесь на стуле, не касаясь спинки, и сорок раз повторите слова «призмы, пилигримы», сатана отыдет от вас.."

Its Tuesday night and a rainy one, an endless late November downpour I so welcome, finally free to just be... My mind wonders as my feet get wet. I juggle Nika, Nika's rag doll, an umbrella and a stuffed purse as I get us in the door. Finally. I'm in a dimly lit church, all the way in the back. The choir practice picks up.. Five little angels by the altar, mine -- the littlest. Their voices echo high above me in this vast space and instantly I'm at peace, calmed by the subtle scent of cedar and wax and honey.. The church is airy and by most standards austear. Lone crucifix in a burst of light against a plane brick wall -- sharp contrast of black and flesh, reminiscent of a painting I once saw. The rest is all wood and stone and clay, monochromatic and heavy-textured -- yet somehow so light, ethereal, almost translucent..like a vision of a tall ship, with its creaky floors and flickering lights, as it floats in a storm to a tune of Tchaikovsky. I smile and wave to Nika and pull out an old lost-and-found fave -- O'Henry's short stories. And for the rest of the hour I melt..Blessed is a perfect moment when you happen to be in a right place at the right time with the right book. Amen.

Carribean Cruise !!!

prev post -- ok, I'm over it :)
VACATION COMING !!!
Plan A:
get up at dawn to see the sun rising over the Carribean, jogg, have lite breakfast, swim laps, snorkle, hike upheel on Cayman Islands, read, get plenty of sleep..
Plan B:
get drunk, get tied to bed, pass out, sleep till noon, have sex again, pig out at lunch, lay face down on the beach for an hour, dip a toe in the water, go back for a Mai Tai..get braids, get dark, get drunk, sex and sleep till noon..
Plan B it is :)

love me to death

Perspective. Put things in perspective, letting go of what can't be changed. Others can't be changed. Enabled, disabled, temporarily insane, but people don't change because of something you do or don't, so..so WHY DOES PARANOID PETTY EGO-MANIACAL SHIT LIKE THAT KEEPS GETTING TO ME ???? Served with love and guilt, this slow poison of negativity and cynisism, this suffocating pressing demand..Run,Lola,run. Nothing's ever good enough. In the last two weeks I have pushed myself to the max and made a career jump unreal for this economy..Excited and exhausted I booked a mini vacation to get a breather before this new job gets the best of me..ALL ruined and for such unexplicable nonsense..literally, some delusional gripes aimed at whatever's left of my spirit. No more jitters, thrills, hopes -- I'm drained, resentful, and terribly hurt. And it just repeats itself, my whole life's this crisis hotline, no adult, kind, mature shoulders for me to cry on, instead, this sick and twisted role reversal, illusions of content, buying time in between all sorts of catastrophies, and no blunder's too small to wage a war if God forbid I happen to be at peace at the moment. I'm not allowed blunders, or dignity, or peace. I obviously exist for the mere purpose of perpetuating this enourmous Victim complex, striken by love, and fear, and grief and utter hopelessness of the whole situation..Fuck, I need a drink.

Blue Lagoon..Cyprus

DREAM

da budet svet

pic by silver sound

Boo is 4 today !!!

no time

3 excruciatingly long meetings (one led by me)and a fire, how's that for a work day ?..no planned work done, nerves frayed, frustrated. BTW its very hard to rescue someone who clearly doesn't want to be moved. The guy I got out cursed me all the way through, kicked me in the groin and peed on the w/c..There we were, running through the smoke-filled hallway dropping f-bombs, both of us..But all were save, there was more smoke than fire..I got NO time. I wanna be bored for a change...

pastoral'

Liss

Место встречи изменить нельзя

Удивительно как жизнь всегда возвращает меня к одним и тем же точкам отсчета. Ничего эпохального, наоборот, незначительные казалось бы дежавю, где-то вне времени, в эпизодах. Бури, шторма, концы концов..и полная статичность декораций. Такой вот стоп-кадр в спа, куда меня заносит пару раз с разницей в пару лет. Тот же душ, капли на каменном потолке, тусклый свет, я так же как и в первый и в пятый раз, прислонившись к прохладной мокрой стене, вожу пальцем по запотевшему стеклу. Все то же. Я другая. Как-то давно расплакалась там навзрыд от усталости, в другой раз вдруг позвонил Он и у меня бешено колотилось сердце..отчаяние, радость, покой, один момент с разницей в годы. Спа, душ. Дубль три.. Мне всегда казалось что стены тех мест куда я возвращаюсь по прошествии времени хранят меня, и возвращают мне же как случайно найденный старый снимок. Все эти потерянные (найденные ?..) образы вечно застают меня врасплох и время останавливается, ненадолго..Одна и та же студия в которой я поселялась дважды с разницей в 5 лет, чудом оказавшаяся свободной как и я сама..Песенка из детства спетая моим ребенком. Чудом же уцелевший дом во дворе где меня уже 30 лет нет, и где я есть везде, чудом живая любовь, да так что до сих пор болит. Концертный зал, попадая в который я непременно сталкиваюсь с кем-то из прошлых или будущих жизней..Именно жизней, они переходят одна в другую и обратно, фрагментарно, без титров, с множеством маленьких смертей в тех местах где рвется пленка. Случайный момент, повторившись еще и еще, вдруг покажет все как есть..и лишит меня сна, пока привычный мой сумбурный непокой не погонит меня дальше, от себя такой к себе другой, и только стены моих домов давно знают что я тут совершенно непричем.

stuck

Indulge a few fantasies and there goes the balance..An inch here, an inch there and boom, life will never be the same again. Delusions mingle with despair and you're now clinging to memories and vague hopes of either miraculous recovery or a quick and painless oblivion. And with so much at stake this time, I really am afraid. There's very little me in this life of mine right now. But this isn't even the bad part..It's not self-indulgence I crave, its peace and comfort of being myself in my space on my time, with my child or alone, and just an end to this crippling anxiety that's destroying me. There's no middle ground. All I wanted was to feel loved, and loved I am..so why does it feel like a cancer growth ?..And where is that comfort that goes with lower expectations ?..How can you be so overwhelmingly, flat out deviantly hooked on sex with a man yet despise his habits, his lifestyle, his attitude..Where is this habitual submissiveness stemming from ?..Why do I need a beast dominating me to feel like a girl ?..And I crave his affection and nothing less of love will do, monster or not, I will make him feel like a king cause that's what I do. This can't be good for me..or safe..or sane..

a bit of sun in a stone well

ruminating, obsessions

I'm yet to fully enjoy my new place but I do love the windows, more so at night..I love to just sit there in the dark for a few minutes with the curtains blowing, shadows dancing on the ceiling, dusty shimmer of trinkets and books lit by moonlight. I could sit here all night. Something in these walls and these barely there summer nights..that long lost anticipation of a new day. I feel so cornered by life that any such moment of stillness and quiet contemplation is bliss. My perception is off..I need to space out to really see, but the daily grind just won't take me there.

+/-

I love my new place, love this shot of my window, a shot of wind through a mind gone stale. Bout time I reclaimed this space too, I'm putting too much value in aesthetics. Not anymore, its just me now and my heavily accented musings alone at last. So I've cured my sudden blues the old fashion way -- men. I came, I saw, I conquered three :) And only slept with one (mine) but felt like me again nonetheless. I'm 37 and look amazing naked. This will do for now..

Long days at work and buzy evenings at home turn to short unrestfull nites, another summer mostly missed. I'm not unhappy, I'm quite content, actually. Getting used to many little losses and expecting more, barely having the time to reflect on any..No impact, no harm done, none of it matters. I'm quietly mourning the loneliness I dream of and dread so much, welcoming a long rainy day ahead and all things coming to an end within me.

There's a method to my madness. Ever since I learned to bluff and cut corners. That high of cutting school and procrastinating till dead lines is still with me..I want to get away. BUT I JUST CAN'T lately, just can't carve out an hour all to myself. When will I catch up with what I love doing most and what I've perfected -- NOTHING ?..Now that could be a very busy bustling out-and-about nothing or a slow-mo ass-stuck-to-the-yoga-mat nothing or legs up with a book in bed mid-day nothing or all kinds of sweet nothings I so desperately crave..But no. Everything has to be meaningfull, and urgent, and important. I give up.

anxy

A shadow's hanging over me lately..Makes me want to wear garlic round my neck to fend off evil spirits..but whats the point..will a kind stranger spare a silver bullet ?..Oh, I'm wicked allright. I'm full of doubts. This feeling, it comes in waves of suffocating fear and regret and leaves me wondering where to go from here..As usual, I barricaded all the exits for good. I never leave myself a way out. A way out for me is a massive blast..I'm tired of all the action. Action is for those who believe in happily-ever-after. Love. All I want these days are affairs to remember. But who wants to be reduced to a page in a diary ?.. A man wants all of you, till all of you becomes the extention of him and you are basically gone, a reflection of him in your eyes and a warm body to cuddle up to at night. And the worst thing is this primal need to reciprocate, to give. Give him your all. He loves you so much. Loved and nagged almost to death, I'm out of place in this life of mine. I want peace, and to stop running from myself, to own my time again if only for a day..

Griffons

Брызнет сердце то ли кровью,
То ли тертою морковью —
Ах, поверьте, всё равно:
Все равно жестокой болью,
То ли гнётом, то ль любовью
Наше сердце пронзено.

И слезами плачут куклы,
И огнём пылают буквы,
И взорвался барабан:
И пошла под гром оваций
Перемена декораций —
Здравствуй, новый балаган

office space

Few things I learned working in a semi-corporate environment:
--When in doubt -- lie. Project supreme confidence.
--Shiny name tags and high heels instill fear. It helps if you're tall, too. Walk slow while your steps echo in hallways and tower over people. Smile like you're on smack.
--Beware the sociopathic binge drinking Irish janitor who actually runs the place.

rainy day in another life

Breakfast at Tiffany's..or close

I love Chicago. Love the way it makes me feel alive and on the verge of..spring, this time. A trip to the city from the bleak outskirts of Midwest suburbia is a perfect fix for my sensory deprivation. You can have the fenced forest preserves and the farms and cutesy houses on their cutesy hills (none of it is nature, anyways --where have you seen manicured lawns and pond fountains in nature ?..:)-- I'll take the city with its noise and grime and obnoxious cab drivers any day -- maybe because that's how I grew up, feeling 8 million people's heartbeat everyday..People need people to thrive..as for the loners which I proudly call myself -- its always easier to be alone in a crowd than face your demons in isolation. Sitting on a bench in a city park or at a corner cafe, watching people go by, I am closer to nature, MY nature, than anywhere else. SO. After a very suburban weekend of kids and more kids and picnics in da dreaded forest preserve, my dear BF swept me off my feet like only he can, and an hour later we were checking in at the Drake, THE DRAKE that I love, with its grand foyer, its heraldic dragons and live jazz in the tea lounge. Drake to me personifies Chicago -- opulent, grand, fit for a queen !..yet mellow and comforting and inviting. Woke up early morning..glass of champagne on the bed stand, Lake Shore Drive in the window..We had breakfast in the Prairie Room and felt like newlyweds. Spent a day in the city..Picked out a "retirement hotel" for ourselves on the way back home..no, it won't be Drake, but it will be in Chicago, before the cornfields get the best of us :)............

nothing, really

Blessed is the morning with time to do THIS and barely a thought in mind..I'm re-arranging skeletons in my closet, its getting crowded in there..I shouldn't be left alone with myself, it'll end bad. Though nothing really ever ended bad for me, nothing really ever ended..I continue to be a stranger in my own life, playing up to men that have always defined me, I can stage my life by them. And if there's more to me than my men, why can't I be content with just me for more than a day ?..Lower expectations bring about certain comfort yet I inevitably get restless. Here's a thought -- maybe I don't exist at all. And what I really am is a reflection of whomever happens to fall into my life at the moment. Always too eager to loose my self in someone. Until all of me starts rejecting the very intrusion I so welcomed. So maybe I'm all gone, spent. The one thing in my life I haven't questioned is loving Boo, everything else is a blur.

gr-r-r-r-r-....

With Public Health in the building, I can't prop my door open..My closet of an office is unbearably hot, humid and stinky (someone pooped in the hallway..)..I feel like a caged monkey in the zoo. My office plant sprouted, my stash of chocolate has melted...GET ME OUT OF HERE !!!!!..
here's some brain droppings before I have a meltdown..
-MD order, found on chart today: 50 ml brandy every Wednesday with dinner
-heavily accented voice mail greeting: "leave your messes..I go back"
-flashback: tour guy in Dominica, passing by a cemetery :"dead people live here"
-a flamboyantly gay nursing home activities director in AX shirt that has "EXPLODE" written all over it..
and for the drum-roll...
-from the list of Medicare-approved diagnoses (seriously, word-to-word): "suicide by a paintball gun"

vacation

7 days aboard a ship cruising the Caribbean is best for late winter blues, for me, anyway.. Para-sailing is way overrated. Only I can feel claustrophobic and out of air 400 ft up in the sky. Tubing, on the other hand, rules. I did everything physical I could think of. That too, lots. Things that impressed the most -- the ship, rocking-- no sea sickness, just feeling drunk hence the hangover, and it rocks you to sleep ever so gently..Cemetery in Aruba much like one in New Orleans -- vaults stacked above the ground, only in festive pastels..pink, blue, yellow, very Mardi Gras. A tiny chapel atop a sun-drenched hill, not a shade in site in a 90 degree heat -- stone cold to touch.. Old fortress of San Juan towering over the sea --entire Spanish armada sunk by its walls. Lunch of ceviche and tapas in old cobble stoned San Juan. Vintage porn in a local thrift store. Grenada's port, a sign for tourists to please refrain from wearing military attire on the island..scents of cinnamon and saffron and coffee, coffee to die for, palpitations and all. Dirt poor Dominica, chickens walking the the streets, stoned locals with tertiary syphilis, one of them chasing the jeep with a huge machete for I dared to take his picture..and a stinky sulfur springs resort named "Screw". Tiny Bonaire that is all ochra and deep blues and greens with trees a color of flesh, hot and mellow. As if stepping into a Gauguin's painting. And a very American St Thomas, vanity fair and tax-free David Yurman. Few things that didn't impress: casino, on-board entertainment, a sip of $1500/bottle cognac, local markets.

in passing

Living in the moment is, once again, not happening. I need major wars and cataclysms to keep me awake, but I'm desperately craving some sleep. The moments flash and pass nulled by the mundane and leave me spent. I want something sustainable. An illusion. Yes, an illusion has more substance than a random burst of adrenaline. Have a mind-blowing orgasm and you're happy. Have ten more and you got yourself a nervous breakdown..Hold on to the moment just before -- I'll build you a shrine and follow your footsteps. Can't. Living on borrowed time, with no solitude, no peace, I leave myself the pure pleasure of sublimating pleasure. Keep it real somewhere else. I'm bringing back the blissful escapism, to guess, to digress, to slip away to random universe mid-day and dwell on own reflections and encrypted love letters. To not be in the moment. For now..

"Sickness, insanity and death were the black angels that guarded my cradle."

Saw the Munch exhibit in the Art Institute today, still shook up. Raw, graphic, couldn't bear to look yet couldn't turn away..All those dead faces, empty eyes, agonizing corpses crowding the canvas. I saw death and dying, but never like that. The insanity, the decay, and the excruciating AWARENESS of the LIVING dead. Not even so much the paintings but the etchings -- he's not the greatest colorist from what I saw..These etchings are keeping me up tonight..

last week, over, thank God..

Spent 3 days in hell. Ambulance chase, ER. 3 days in a hospital watching my tiny 3 year old tortured by all kinds of medical devises and crying my head off with her. Back home now, both skinny and tired and mad at the world. Vacation cancelled. Sleep.

05:19 pm: misc

1. Found in a patients chart today under "behavioral": "Needy, sometimes nasty". Same chart, therapy notes/diagnosis: "Colon surgery with a rectal pouch". YOU THINK ??..
2. Had to attend a big multi-state corporate seminar on "Medicare entitlement". I never saw so many fat middle-age women sporting bad hair, green skin and horrific pant suits in one banquett hall. Note to self -- quit the desk job before its too late.
3. I'm being cyber stalked by crude, pushy, delightfully uncomplicated yet thoroughly unpleasant israelies. ..Brrr...PS PIONERY, IDITE V ZHOPY !
4. Called to book an appointment with a pediatric GI doc, got following directions from the clerk (was spelled out in a dead-serious voice): "Come up to the 3rd floor, step on the red carpet and look for the GREEN FROG". When I asked if I should kiss it then -- silence followed..
5. Went through Fresh Farms for half hour with a polar bear sticker on my butt thanks to Nika.. And I just thought these jeans fit me really well..Damn. Well they do, anyway :)

New Years Eve recap

1. Played with Boo, made a mess
2. Made a cake of my childhood, called "Iceberg" -- to die for, all merengue and cocoa leche buttercream. Was all gone in 10 min.
3. Dressed up in black and gold. Later burned a hole in my pants with a firecracker, 2 scars left to remember the fun..
4. Partied till 3am then joyned the neighbours party of 20 people and partied till morning, fired petardes everywhere, burned a lawn chair on a grill, danced, won a couples contest..
5. And for the drumroll..at midnight countdown found a 2 carat diamond in my champagne, felt overwhelmingly silly and happy...said yes :)