Craziest thing in my closet. don't know what to do with it..

Вот ЭТО висит у меня в шкафу уже год. Ни носить не решусь ни выкинуть. Подарок из байкерского бутика, 200 баксов как никак..На спине надпись "In God We Trust", погоны, подковы, лампасы, и мой инициал "U". В этой штуке я себя ощущаю не то Джеком Воробьем не то Стивеном Тайлером не то Иван Федорычем Крузенштерном -- человеком и пароходом..За порог в нем не выйду но и снимать не хочу если надела. И курить в нем очень хочется. И стрелять по воронам. И пить шампанское. Короче в меня в этом бушлате вселяется дух какого-то цыганского барона..требует кутить и лезть в душу окружающим. Страшная вещь, лучше наверное сжечь :)

Rabbit hole, digging in

-Last image in my head before zonking out close to 2am last nite: a beaming bug-eyed Mr. Bean. No, I don't sleep with him, though I'm sure he'd be lots of fun and definitely my type -- just that every time I see this face I laugh till hiccups, he just kills me. So I google him whenever I feel shitty. I had a nightmare in my last trimester that I actually gave birth to mini Mr Bean. Woke up in cold sweat. Curly works well too. Nyak.

-I work in a nursing home and, as a reminder to turn bedridden patients every 2 hrs, the clerk announces overhead: "attention.. it is now (always with dramatic pause here..) TEA TIME" (T- for "turn")..Its a good thing. BUT. In a place full of lost, drugged, confused psych patients, many --OCD..imagine the impact :)) I myself get up religiously and make me a cup. Now here's a place where time really HAS gone mad. Time becomes meaningless if you take away the routine. Without deadlines and calendars our lives are timeless, and our tea parties don't end. Not with Valium laced pudding and Depakote sprinkles, anyway..

"..she got up in great disgust, and walked off: the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot."

brain storm, fundamentals

This won't make a lot of sense, I just need to write it out..
Assuming you don't live in a dumpster and go to sleep hungry while battling a debilitating disease..and even if..-- what is the ultimate pursuit ?..What's missing that would make one feel happy, complete, content at the very least ?..More comforts ?..How much more is enough ? More money ?..Same thing. Maybe LESS ?..Some find simple living quite liberating.  As someone prone to long "absenthisms" from my own reality, I've narrowed it down to one (1) component. Behold the obvious for the lucky some of you and a mind shattering bomb for "the ever lost" ones like me -- happiness is knowing what you want to do and doing exactly that. No conditions. No rules, no rutines, no obligations, no guaranties. Just self-awareness. Its a rare gift. I literally know just one person in my circle who seems trully happy no matter what is happening around him, because IN him is peace.  He is an artist. He wants to do art, and he does, amazing art at that. He's short, poor, 2 times divorced, has a hernia and lives with his parents -- none of this matters apparently..HE is a beautiful human being that radiates HAPPINESS, dignity, and a love of life that is unsurpassed. This magnetism in turn brings him love of beautiful women, admiration of friends, his kids adore him and even frigging plants grow better around him. I know first hand, I was happiest surrounded by his stuff, his art..he himself proved to be overwhelming eventually, I guess I was insulted by this simple brilliance that was and still is beyond me. I hoped that happiness of his will rub off on me eventually, it didn't. Doing what you want. I'm blessed with many trophies I'm  "supposed" to acquire by my age and even some I'm "supposed" to loose by now..I am lucky in many ways, but I missed the point. Lucky isn't happy. You can have everything at your posession and be at a total loss as to what to do with it. WHAT DO I WANT TO DO ? 39 years old and  very, very good at daydreaming. Just shoot me.

Certified Copy

И пришла весна. Байрон играет на синтезаторе битлов, попугай орет дурным голосом, а тетка Лена бросает работу и огородами уходит в кино. А в кино у нас "Certified Copy". Как сон в руку, из мутного подсознания --и на большой экран, на трех сразу языках, с субтитрами, с такой красивой и нервной Джулиет Бинош. Я думала она -- клише. А она меня так..растревожила. Шаг навстречу, наощупь, по наитию..шаг назад, страх..такая желанная случайность столкновений, совпадений и все приходит в движение -- сон разума прерванный цепной реакцией двух воображений рождает 15 лет жизни, любви, обид, желаний за один на бегу прожитый день. Забытый непокой свободы..весна.