Norwegian Smile

And tears wouldn’t even come after Stand By Me; not even during the teariest scenes where Gordie and Chris are crying in each other’s arms. I probably need a higher dose and move on to Dead Poets Society – which always works, but it’s not autumn yet.

It’s interesting to experience my pride wounded, interesting because you would expect heartbreak of some sort in a girl. But at present I can’t even stimulate eye lubrication anymore, it’s simply not coming through, as if there is nothing left to feel emotional about. Though, I shouldn’t complain, should I? I remember I used to feel an imaginary itch back then, once scratched, everything was ok and the tears would just flow from the mountains and wash away the unclear.

That’s now gone. The river’s gone dry.

Deletion time. I’ve been quite brave for emptying my phone inbox, email inbox, etc. What are disappointments from 2011 still good for? For remembrance?

Never has indifference leveled up that high inside me. I’m even prone to telling lies recently as it saves time and explanation.

Having failed to blend in in the last couple of days, I’ve caused a lot of suspicion, I suppose, particularly today, all because I could not ignore my pained pride, which is another aspect of not being good enough to people. Feels familiar.

If only I could dig out Ernest and punch him hard in the face. I play that scene in my head sometimes. He and I have a tea party and I would condemn him for publishing “Men without Women”. At the same time we would be listening to Chris Cornell (a living version of Ernest…) and he would simply watch me go mental.

In the name of the God of Harvest, the leader of the Titans and ruler of Saturn…this numbness is unbearable. Enter me now and give me strength. If on Sunday I am a wimp again, I will ask for more needle and no more numbing cream this time – no, not for the purpose of punishment, but endurance. I can take some more, like Buk and still stand straight. I will prove it to you.

People ask me why I invested money in a scythe. I said for harvest.

Today I looked the Norwegian in the face and sensed nothing, except that I imitated his grin – a very unsettling moment at first…

If empathy or even antipathy, I don’t really care, but I figured, there was a short moment of a mutual sentiment.

No, not evil.

Just indifference.

Nothing else.

Four more months. And I hope the smile will become bright again. On my face. A smile that they can understand.

Right now I feel sad and alone, because the current smile is not understood by anyone.

This is the main reason why I want to be somewhere else now, for nothing is holding me back here.

However, the hole is growing deep. There’s not much time left.

I shall be leaving.

Follow that smile, so far away.

Against the Sun God

I do enjoy sitting naked at my desk while listening to KoRn. Despite continuous perspiration, trouble breathing and this banging headache I am surviving this day well.

Though having come back from the night sky, I guess I haven’t quite gotten used to being on earth again.

The heat fucks up my circulation and blurs my thought process. The hot water has washed away the scab, which is good (stops me from picking), but the heat has penetrated my body like a virus…

I shall keep control and distract myself…

In the night sky I saw a little bit of Cronos who is still far away from me. From October onwards he shall be closer. I wonder how often he thinks about me, how he likes my art, and how much he will harvest this year.

Until then I’ll have to teach myself to be alone again.

It’s not the same without him.

Sky tonight

There is no room to accommodate tiredness and sometimes you can escape it by merely keeping yourself busy with whatever interests you.
I’m currently charging well. Plug in the music, connect it with my soul and life is back.
The words are back.

I get scared of my own smiles sometimes, especially when it happens in public and I forget the reason of the smile. That’s an awkward moment as the muscles in the face go stiff and funny as though embarrassed.

I can smell autumn, that’s the only reason why I seem happy to you recently. Other than that you don’t know the slightest thing about this face.

The year has gone by rather quickly, it feels like it’s tomorrow that I have to hand in my thesis. And when thinking about it, I get nervous.
Ellen has been waiting. She wants to re-experience the fucks just to make sure I didn’t miss anything internal.
I didn’t miss anything.
There’s just something else that I have to work on. And I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t know how.

And whenever I feel like asking her for forgiveness, I feel odd. Who am I to ask? She chose that path herself. Or maybe I’m just attempting to shrug off the guilty conscience, for I have given her life.

My fingers and nails smell funny; somewhat like disinfectant and body lotion, which is a very unpleasant mix and it kind of defamiliarises me from this place. Why my hands are in the constant need of cleansing, I don’t know. I don’t do anything bad, not that I know of anyway. And yet I can’t dodge this presentiment that I will commit something nasty.

A sentiment that keeps one up at night.

Tiredness has gone for a long walk this time.

For the sky tonight is beautiful.

Implementation and Haribo

Haribo at nighttime seems a bit wrong, but the way the sweet taste melts on my tongue is quite soothing.

I’m running out of bepanthen and my back is peeling badly, but at least it’s no longer painful. I was such a wimp as well, because he had to add numbing cream on my back. However, he said I was a brave girl for choosing that motif. What’s so brave about it when I have a reason, when it has a meaning? So I unite menace with beauty and Greek mythology with nature and astronomy – what’s the big deal here, I don’t know.
What’s it to do with you?
What’s it to do with me?
A hell of a lot.


The end of a chapter.

Soon it’ll be harvest time – time to collect and prepare.

These people cannot decide whether it’s warm or cold, but the truth is, it’s just right. The temperature has never been any better. You might think its instability corresponds with a mind’s insanity and you might be right, haha.
It almost smells like autumn; the smell that gives people colds, which they deserve.

While they sniff I will prepare.

For a new chapter.

A better chapter.

The most exciting thing is knowing that I will be the one to write it and to make it happen.

My only reason to rise from the bed and get out.

I love this part.

Implementation.

Another sweet before bed.

Attachment and meaninglessness

I bled on my bed sheet last night.

I’ve lent my Vanish soap to someone and I’m not sure when I’ll get it back. Funny that whenever you get something dirty all you can think about is how to get it clean again. But would your first thought ever be to replace it? Probably, if you can’t be bothered or it depends on how much you care about the object.
Despite my tendency to throw everything away, I would try cleaning it before I consider a replacement. Not always, though. It’s a matter of attachment.
How about you? Do you form attachment to objects and give it meaning?
I am fascinated by how certain objects play a decisive role in shaping a person; you become a slave of the object by obsessing over it. In my current case, it’s the bed sheet and a post-it-note from 2007.

Good to know that our heads instinctually create meaning for everything…and within the meaning arises a warm familiarity that equals security.

Without intending to impose existentialism on you, I think if it hadn’t been Sisyphus and his love-hate-relationship with the boulder, I wouldn’t even be where I am now. The boulder has probably turned into an internalized image of Sisyphus and all he sees in the boulder is the purpose of his life.

I see the same thing when I stare at the white sea.

It might all be meaningless, but when I see the white sea I want to strip myself naked and jump right in, have the sea suck mind, blood and all my entire heart until there’s nothing left. I give the sea all I have, because I have a lot to give away, especially for cleansing. The result is exposure through words that I put together; it’s a game that turns me on so much. However, many times the sea would spit it all back at me and I’m again a prisoner of the heat that I myself create. I don’t want it. That’s when the game turns into a war.

No time for truce.

Just more stripping.

And, I need my soap back.

You know this sudden moment of defamiliarisation when staring at something for too long and not realizing it because you got carried away? Then the person next to you says
“You were miles away.”

Erase all memories and struggle with the remaining feelings that you cannot comprehend? Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is a shit film. Nothing will ever go away unless you embrace it entirely and say
“Everything will be ok.”

When you are in need of transparency of the mind, you write down words that chronicle your situation and if you are clever, there will be one sentence that reads
“Truth be told, I’m lying.”
Sometimes you go through different stages of perception, and the key sentiment is placed at the end of the queue. What you should’ve felt first had been a victim of suppression, but you don’t realize it until Kelly Jones sings
“It means nothing.”

My curiosity always surpasses my fears, which is good, because I’m one step ahead of the next big thing I have in mind. There is so much to do, so much to achieve and I say
“I don’t want to lose the time to come.”

When I see beauty in what you find ugly, I get the urge to clean your eyes and make you see things my way, but I won’t as you will make it lose meaning. So I will only I tell you
“This is how I view things.”

“It’s not meant to be understood.”

“Just meant to be questioned.”

“It’s not about answers.”

“But possibilities.”