Just Another Blog Entry

We all get older and wiser (sometimes sillier, too) with time. Things come, things pass, and we move on. Just like Macbeth, we wait for those who come, and let time and the hour to run past the roughest day.

Although that sophisticated entry might suggest otherwise, this is not another pack of words that I'm jotting down trying to get to the essence of life.

I'm having a wonderful evening and I just don't feel like looking for a point in life. Yet.

What I like to do on such lovely evenings is glancing through books I've been with a long time. With my beloved companions aside - solitude and hindsight - we skim through all those words that stayed the same as I've changed. There they are, the words, standing before me. Some of them don't have the same might, some of them lost all the magical aura, yet they still pose a picture of sheer beauty.

Some of the words are weaker now, and some of them mean a lot more.

This wonderful evening reminds me of many others, and through my moments of reminiscence, I reckon, it is not the words, but me who has changed.

I used to masticate words with careful steps and let them sink in, but the passing years turned me into a hungry beast, who looks for words right here, right now. They're losing their aesthetic impression, and turn into pragmatic tools of language, which makes me a boring person as a whole.

At that instant, poetry comes right in, reminding me of the images and occasions where a single word, on its own, holds more truth than pages of writing.

This evening is a good evening and I want to stop this idle, hungry word monster in me. This time around, I'm going to explore each word with extreme care and attention -- no less than what they deserve.

Love, is the first one that comes to mind.

I remember the time when love meant sex. I can also remember the time love meant lies. Now, I'm somewhere in between.

Next to "love", I have the cosmic dream: Physics.

The physics book, bodies in motion, the sun, the wheels, the hula-hoops. I feel like overdosing Sufjan Stevens to make a wonderful night to follow a wonderful evening.

The BQE, Age of Adz.

Life. Love. Me.

Cheers.






Sufjan Stevens, The BQE.

Veins, Pt. 3

You're the blood

floating through my veins.

All through the soil

and up in those trees.

All through my body

  in my breath

    in my head

      in my heart.

From the fingertips

  to the outcast mind;

    from the toes

      to rotten skin.

In my lips,

in my being --

and outside, too.

You're the blood

floating through my veins,

you're the blood

in which I live.

You're the blood

and I may feel you --

forever again.

Denkmal für die ermordeten Juden Europas

walls there, walls here,
walls everywhere.

you're my walls, she said
and i love
losing myself
in your labyrinth-like walls.

i'm your undignified lover, he said,
probably the best thing
a man could say
to a woman.

purple skies
poured purple death
from above.
the purple love
echoed in the walls
and in her mind.

and under the berlin night
they sat, the purple lovers,
embracing the cold stones
together.

Wryly

It was almost evening. His stomach grumbled, striving for dinner -- unaware of what was going on. The sun, which seemed like a giant orange scorching ball than a star was abandoning the clear heavens,  leaving a pinkish trace behind.

The blue of sky was now turning dark, sucking up all the city lights.

They waited together for the traffic lights to change. They've waited together for a lot of things before, but they probably wouldn't anymore.

He wished they could wait over there through eternity. She wished it never came to this. He wished she could wait for him as much as he did for her. She wished he never made him wait.

The lights turned green now, and all the busy fathers taking bread and surprise chocolate bars back to their children at home started moving at that instant. She wanted to join the fathers' parade, but he held her back. She'd be gone, he thought, and never actually leave. She'd abandon him, leave behind a pinkish trace; and all he could do was turn darker and suck up all the lights.

She wanted to get over with it. It was hard enough for her, and for fuckssakes, why did he make her wait again?

Let me have this one, he said.

They hugged.

It was a long thing. The real stuff, he thought; he remembered the shy hugs, erotic hugs, supportive hugs. He didn't want it to end. It had to end. She knew it just had to.

She walked away, praying to the God(s) - if there were any - to make him kill all the hope inside.  He quelled his hope, but never let it fade away.

Now they were headed opposite directions. One last time, she thought, turning her head back. She glanced at him, and he was glancing at her, too.

She gave him a smile, lowering her eyes and raising her cheeks.

It was cold, it was dark, it was excruciating, it was fucked-up. He'd never exchange anything for that smile.