theczechpointt

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letos bez svíček

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Fuckuary

What a mess stepping into the new year while stepping out of a taxi

and with holes in all of my pockets not knowing where to start.

I've magnified spices for the hope of finding something.

I've cried after bringing two years of myself to be judge by the academy

and realizations about all of my relationships shocked me.

Nothing left to do but recalculate. 

 My pockets still empty.

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from that time I thought it would be nice to go to Rome

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I spent the weekend before Christmas experiencing lightening, thunder and hail at soviet war memorial

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walking through the streets of Stockholm in the dark

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Delayed

The main hall is beautiful, full of arches and frescos: a strange homage to socialist realism and the industrial revolution at once. Of course a spa town like this wouldn't have been caught dead without a station like this during it's era of blossom. The speaker clicks, but only the silent buzz can be heard. Then another click and a tense voice announces the cancellation of the train to Prague, followed by another cancellation. I go to the platform in hope that my train isn't effected. It arrives, but drops us off two stops over in the middle of the dark industrious north of Bohemia and tell us to wait for a bus replacement. Someone jumped onto the tracks. I heard he jumped right infront of the train. I heard he fell. We don't know much, just that somebody's dead. As we get off at a run down village station the crowd nervously steps beyond the rail tracks, not knowing what to expect. People whisper in the shadow of an early evening. The first curses fall upon the dead man's account, as he keeps us from our destinations. I am indifferent, as I watch two childred argue over a toy, we all watch them actually. I walk away, to the other side of the building, to absurb the silence, and watch smoke raise from a factory. The buses arrive and the crowd rushes into the first of the two, filling it to the brink. I wait and then sit in the other that's almost empty, with the conductor by my side. It's not the first case of suicide he's seen. He's been doing this for 42 years. He tells me he feels great physically for his age, but that the job's rough on the psyche. Before I know it the crowd and I get dropped off at the west station, but the trains aren't going out from here either. We return to the buses, silently upset again. All of the express trains are picking up delays now. We get off again at the main station, where people are inpatiently leering at the electronic timetables. Another hour later I finally get on the original train, the one that should've tooken me home hours ago. Noone is at my stop, the world seems unaware of the death here, just thirty minutes farther down the tracks. I walked alone home and greet my father. I don't tell him about what happened. Why  would I, but as I write this I imagine the delays appearing on the boards of main station. They spread from the regional connections to the international ones. I see the numbers spreading from station to station, reaching out as far as Berlin and Budapest. Then picture the hundreds that looked up at them, as if in tribute. I order pizza, it's been a long day. This guy went out with a bang.

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I woke up this morning with eight minutes to get ready. I took myself to the bathroom in search of my toothbrush, but it must have been forgotten in Stockholm. That's all it took for me too fall to pieces and look out into the darkness with saddness.

I woke up this morning without you. The very idea brought tears to my eyes, for you have been my happiness these past six months. I cared for nothing except finding a way leading into your arms. Everything tolerable as long as you, at least in my mind, were by my side.

I woke up today, begging for this chapter to end, with it's five o'clock mornings and long commutes and folks with who I do not relate with. I counted the days until the end of the year and told myself to hold onto the number until then.

I woke up disappointed with where I am, solaced only by the knowledge, it'll soon be over, and dressed myself to step into the darkness.

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A world created in one of my glass sculptures #glass #stone #design #sculpture #optics #reflection

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and this is as far as I've gotten

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This is what my life has become. Stuck in a studio "trying" to push my abilities farther forward

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As a gust of wind, you all appeared and with such great strength that you span me around. Prehaps the feeling of the wind in my hair or the 360° view of the world around me took my worries away and in the brief unexpected moment I found my happiness. Just as swiftly you appeared and overwhelmed me you disappeared, but I was left still with the feeling of happiness you brought. Blueberry pickers of the Bohemian countryside, creatures of the night in Prague, travellers of the world, I hope to cross paths with you once again. All you have taught me I carry into my future battles. 

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I want to be great one day have at least one stranger say my name and in their own way keep me eternal

I will sweat for it and bleed out if I must for my ambition keeps me up at night when we are meant to dream

and all these walls around me remind me to stay in my place but I will punch them down or have them kill me

If I don't give it my all my thoughts will come and with them the dark As long as I fight there will be light

I want to be great one day have at least one stranger say my name and in their own way keep me eternal

I will sweat for it and bleed out if I must for my ambition keeps me up at night when we are meant to dream

and all these walls around me remind me to stay in my place but I will punch them down or have them kill me

If I don't give it my all my thoughts will come and with them the dark As long as I fight there will be light

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Keep the warmth close

On nights like these we walk through the golden city with a gentle pace. The sky is painted a soft orange and blue, pleasant to the eye. Clouds constantly metamorphosis into different entities. One foot in front of the other, exhale and inhale, trying not to break this fragile dream the weekends are. The orange atmosphere turns deep sea blue and with it come worrying thoughts. Thoughts of yesterday, today and especially tomorrow. The path is long and we constantly fall and cut our knee along the way. The coldness of the night tends to find its way into our hearts.

Yet there is a spark that keeps our warmth close to us. It appears to us as friends sitting around beer, their laughter and the smoke of a basement restaurant opened far into the morning. We sit here, counting the bruises with which come worrying thoughts. Those thoughts of yesterday, today and especially tomorrow. However, as we do this, every round of laughter and every smile helps to heal our wounds and strengthens the shield and spear we hold in the battles to come. We walk home, still a little cold, but knowing the spark will keep on burning.

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One day my father look start into my eyes and said: I will pay for a tattoo if you want one. I realized that day, that my father is way cooler than I will ever be and started sketching ideas for what I want forever to stain my body. Here is one of them.

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I wish to wake up in the morning and run for miles without end. I long for the presence of great men. The muse I love dances an hour away and I spend my gold to hold her hand. The wisdom of unwitnessed years is showered on my head and moments of silence resonate through my soul. Just like any addiction, I cannot get enough. I worry that inspiration will turn to face another man and keep her amused as best as I can. I leave my mark, the smell of vinegar and lemon on the floor, perhaps it'll keep a piece of me there. If the truth be told, this is my enlightenment. The swarm of birds on the wall have a tale to tell, I keep them silent with a tear soaked tribute. This is my great debut, as I try to plant seeds to be harvest in future. All I ask is that when it ends, when the ink of this chapter runs dry, the knowledge and love gathered never says its goodbye.