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Sex Furnace - John Whiltock

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Life is unpredictable. Things happen, relationships break apart, people leave from your life day in and day out. People you most care about, people you take for granted and never call them, but you know they are always there for you. Why is that? Why do we do that? How can we just simply take people we care most about for granted and forget to tell them how much we really love them, and how much they mean to us? Why is it that once it's too late, we find the time... Once it's too late, all of the sudden there are so many questions that were left unanswered. So many things you could have learned from that person, so many wise things that would make you a greater being. But just how great of a being can you truly be, if you forget about the ones most close to you.

I am so sorry I forgot. I forgot to call, I forgot to ask. I always thought that there's plenty of time. I never thought of the day, when the option of hearing, learning from you would cease to exist. I am a poor person because of this. I sit behind a computer with tears in my eyes writing this, because I didn't take the time, to sit with you before and listen to your stories and learn more from you. I am sorry I couldn't tell you more about myself and that you are no longer here to see me grow into a woman, a wife and all the roles that I will be filling in. When it's too late, you wish to turn back time. The impossible illusion of fixing things. But nothing can fix this.

So all I am left with is a begging for forgiveness, because I always forgot. Whilst you never did.

[candyflossswirl]

This will forever remain my favorite video. Nothing describes life and love you have for your partner as much as this video. Having such a loving husband I sometimes wish I could film all of the emotions he spurs in me throughout all the years we've been together. And because these emotions are so intense, that no camera could ever record them, this video is as close as it gets.

I am seriously beyond lucky in my life.

[candyflossswirl]

Sonce. In neskončnost avtoceste, ki te pelje v morje neznanega. Naslonjen na okno avtomobila, z roko ki binglja v zraku loviš še zadnje izdihljaje svobodnega vetra, ki si ga ne lasti nihče. V sebi sam čutiš prevetritev duha. To je to, si rečeš. Autobahn, ki pelje me daleč stran. Od vsega sranja, ki se nakopiči čez leto. Od vseh rokov, ki jih lovim in od vseh papirjev, ki jih lovijo oni. Zeleni papirji, vijolični papirji pospravljeni v njihovih denarnicah. Who  dafuck cares. Naj ga imajo. Jaz hočem samo stran, si rečeš. Prepuščaš se ritmu avtoradia, ene in iste cedejke, na kateri se celo leto nabira prah.  Smrekico je zamenjal vonj po kokosu in morski soli, ki se ti lima po stegnih in lepi lase, ki nikoli prej niso izgledali lepše in nonšalantno. Želiš si živeti tako iz dneva v dan - spati pod borovci, čutiti topel pesek med nogami, nositi kopalke in razvlečeno majico tri dni zapored, namesto tesnih jeans hlač, bluz in suknjičev. Svoboda - ko nenačrtovano spoznavaš ljudi in okolico pod opojnostjo poletja; pod opojnostjo sladke in tople teme, ki ob soju mestnih luči izvleče svoje najboljše in najlepše karte.

Poletje. Čakamo te.

[candyflossswirl]

Dnevno si vsaj desetkrat rečeva, drug drugemu, da se imava rada. Včasih se mi zdi da pretiravava. Včasih se mi zdi, da mi bo postalo kar slabo od te ljubezni. Kar preveč jo je včasih, kot sladkarij v Mullerju ali Zvezdi (ali maminem skritem predalu). Ne veš kaj bi z vsem tem, samo doziraš se in doziraš. Ampak tako paše… res. Ljubezen je najboljša droga na svetu. Nič drugega se ne more primerjati s tem. Strast za eno noč je nič v primerjavi z dobro staro ljubeznijo. Ja, seveda, najbrž je neka magija v tisti eni noči, v enem pogledu in enem hitrem aktu trganja oblek. A kdor ima za seboj že nekaj let izkušenj, ve da to strast za eno noč lahko ponoviš. Rabiš samo eno steklenico Syraha, črtalo za oči in odpeto srajco.

Ne vem, mogoče imam enostavno srečo, da imam njega. Osebo, ki me nadvse razume in pozna. Da sva si tako enaka, a hkrati različna. Da me po osmih letih še vedno spravi ob pamet (v dobrem smislu), ko nase navleče raztegnjeno kratko majico in si skuštra lase.

Starejši nama pravijo, da naju bo enkrat tudi to minilo,češ ko si z nekom toliko časa skupaj iskrica umre hitreje kot Romeo in Julija. Vendar, naivna kot morda sva, se s tem ne strinjava. Medtem ko najini združeni roki skačeta v deveto leto, se nama zdi da sva si vedno bolj blizu. Ne morem si pomagati, da ne začutim topline v srcu, ko se vsako jutro zbudim ob njem. Uživam v svojih tihih pogledih na njegov zaspan obraz, medtem ko mu nežno božam lase. Ko ga zbudim in me stisne k sebi in prosi za dodatnih 5 minut spanca in se ponovno zadeka v belo kepo posteljnine. Tistih 5minut zjutraj je najlepši začetek dneva, ko se prepustim strmenju v nebo skozi okno, čuteč toplino njegovega telesa na svojem hrbtu. Kako bi bilo, če bi se zjutraj zbujala v hladno levo stran postelje? Bi mi sploh pasala prostranost tega najinega malega zavetja, ali pa bi se enostavno zgubila v njem z glavo na enem koncu in telesom na drugem?

Ne, ne bi mi pasala. Ne maram hladu in ne maram razpotegnjenosti. Zato bova najbrž vedno raje vzela manjšo posteljo kot pa večjo, ker se rada ‘stiskava’in ker hočem tistih 5 minut doživljati še neštetokrat, medtem ko naju bo najina iskrica grela. Pa naj sva še tako naivna.

*Zgoraj Penny and The Quarters - You and me, je bil najin poročni komad.

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Spremembe. Nenehno nihanje razpoloženja. Šli bi na sever, a čutili bi radi jug.

Globoko zabredem v razvlečeno posteljnino in si oddahnem, ko začutim tvojo sapo na mojem zatilju.

Dež me vleče po mestu in veter grabi moje lase, knjige si same trgajo liste in moja usta hlastajo po vročem zraku, ki ga ustvarjaš ti, ki stojiš sekundo pred mojim nosom.

Spremembe. Sekunde. Spremembe.

[candyflossswirl]

Joe Bataan - What good is a castle

He is a good good man. Too good. God, I love him. I swear, if I ever get to meet him I will collapse of excitement.

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The Cars - Drive

The 80's. You can't touch this.... seriously.

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Who am I

Sometimes I dream of running around naked. People are talking to me as if I had clothes on, as if everything is normal. As I look down to face my feet I see I have nothing on. Oh the horror, the horror I say to myself in a jewish accent. I am left with a blush on my cheeks and an unbearable feeling of heat in my chest. I try to cover myself with anything I can find – and all I find are leaves. Somehow this reminds me of the biblical Eve, where her genitals were covered with nothing but a tiny leaf.

As I run around trying to hide myself somewhere, anywhere (one time it was behind a dumpster) I ask myself: Is this a dream? Please let this be just a dream. It can not be real.

I wonder, how much of myself will I be able to analyze through my dreams? I know exactly what these dreams symbolize – I don't need to read a book or google it. Trust me, I have mastered it - I have mastered it so much I analyze my friends dreams. And I know I am right, they say I am. The connection one has with his inner being is crucial for ones self awarness. However I am aware of myself, I am aware of what my dreams (consequently my inner being) is telling me – but I still wonder… just how much do I have to learn from myself?

The night before we went to Belgrade for my 21st birthday I was picking out a word I wanted to get tattooed on my wrist… I have never really thought of what I would like to put on my skin and leave it there for a lifetime.. out of all the words that came to my mind I chose the word Dream. And when I did it (the tattoo) and my friends asked me why this word, what does it mean to me, the only thing I could come up with was that I love to dream and I remember every dream I have and therefore I am a dreamer.

What a lousy story, I thought to myself…but the more I look at it (literally) it serves as a constant reminder, as a navigation system for where to look for myself when I feel lost, when I do not know the answer to the questions I keep flipping over in my mind… It is almost like a parallel world and once you master the unraveling of the symbols, the answers to the dillemas, the internal doubts and trials will come to you in your awakening to the real world.

[candyflossswirl]

The main inspiration for doin’ this piece was dope track from Quasimoto - Rappcats

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What good is beauty if there are thorns surrounding her? Something so fragile and soft, protected by something so strong and sharp.

Maybe beauty is a subject that is best left untouched.

[candyflossswirl]

KANT

If one cannot prove that a thing is, he may try to prove that it is not. And if he succeeds in doing neither (as often occurs), he may still ask whether it is in his interest to accept one or other of the alternatives hypothetically, from the theoretical or the practical point of view.

Yup, Kant.

[candyflossswirl]

Spomladansko čiščenje

Medtem ko sem pospravljala flat, sem naletela na en tak debel art zvezek, ki sem ga kupila Mihu za rojstni dan, nekaj let nazaj. Hotela sem da vanj riše svoje male karikature in dizajnarske packarije, a včasih se nisem mogla upreti, da ne bi tudi jaz kaj vanj zapisala. Standard. Če nekomu podarim notebook, bo definitvno nekaj notri napisano. Ne morem dati zvezka iz rok, brez da bi pustila svoj žig. Mihu sem sicer vedno puščala navihana sporočila, slikce in standardne poljubčke, ki bi ga verjetno osramotile, če bi odprl notebook na sestanku. Ampak to sem delala zanalašč. Saj veste, ljubezen je lepa in navihana stvar.

Ljubim te bolj močno kot 4,5 let nazaj; svet je lepši zdaj ko si ob meni, svet bo lepši še naprej, še vsaj 60 let bo svet lepši. Lepši kot 4,5 let nazaj... svet bo lepši kot na dan pred dnevom, ko sem te spoznala.

Neverjetno kako lepota tvoje ljubezni prisili okolico, da se ji prilagodi.

Rada pišem taka kratka sporočila. So kot kak Kinder surprise na turoben dan. Kot 20 evrov, ki si jih dal v jakno po koncu zime, in čez pol leta oblekel jakno in "našel" 20 evrov. Tak, dober filing imam ko napišem in ko preberem nekaj takega.

Spomnim se čustev, ki so še vedno tu, a jih kaos vsakdanjosti potisne malo ob stran.

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Celih pet dni sedenja za računalnikom. V wordu črtica nevzdržno utripa. Tok misli prekinjen na vsake dve minuti. Klik sem. Klik tja. Ko se mi končno utrne neka pametna misel, se roka spet premakne in kar naenkrat visim na facebook-u. In gledam slike, ljudi, ki jih sploh ne poznam.

“Pa kdo zaboga je ta človek? O, tole pa poznam… luštna torbica. Bogavedi, kje jo je dobila. Ziher kaka Zara. Čakej, skočim pogledat. Uu.. tele hlače pa ne zgledajo slabo. Mah daj da pogledam še kaj je novega na twitterju? Ja vsako sekundo je nekaj novega, doh. Kaj je pa kaj Pepermint spisala? Ojoj, tale pintrest pa jest ne bom raj šla gledat. To je overdose za oči. Ajde, daj Dijana, zbaš se že dol s tega sranja.”

Kako bo človek, sploh kaj dokončal, če pa imamo vedno toliko distrakcij? Ah kaj pa govorim. Vse je v samodisciplini. Vem, problem imam s tem. Trenutno.  Doživljam blokado - mentalno blokado, pisateljsko blokado (ta je najbolj nevarna ker moram ravno ta čas spisati diplomsko nalogo). Na živce mi gre, da ne dajem vsega od sebe. Počutim se kot da dajem zgolj 40% . Ne počutim se lenobno, nasprotno, želim si početi cel kup stvari; ustvarjati, metati ideje iz mozga, slikati, snemati, pisati, risati, raziskovati,… ampak enostavno doživljam to kretensko blokado.

Ponavadi sem dobra z reševanji vsakdanjih življenjskih problemov; ker imam doma očeta, katerega vzgoja je temeljila na pogovoru, in ta pogovor je znal trajati po tri ure; znam identificirati psihološke vzroke za nastanek problema. Če ne to, pa znam poguglat, iz česar se sicer vsi ki me poznajo delajo norca, ampak res; čudo je ta intranet bi rekel Gojko Ajkula.

A ko imam sama problem mi noben internet in niti dr. Ati, ne more pomagati. Ponavadi se je pisanje izkazalo za najbolj terapevtsko – moram priznati, da zdaj ko to pišem, se res že malo bolje počutim.

Ja, tale blokada se res prikrade kot nek trojanski konj. Deluje kot neka pasivnost, kot prah, ki samo čaka, da ga pobrišeš. Ampak ga kar pustiš, tam v kotu, mah naj se nabira, bom že enkrat s sesalcem prišla do tistega kota.

Niti ne pomagajo prijateljski pogovori, ker tako ali tako ugotoviš, da nisi sam v tem. Da se dogaja tudi njim. Ampak ko si v družbi, se vsi tolažimo med seboj, da nam bo itak ratalo. Pa saj smo mladi.

Mah ja. Mladi smo in hočemo vse. Takoj, zdaj. Pa kaj sploh še delajo ti 60. letniki na takih pozicijah. Daj naj grejo že v pokoj. Vse se samo še šlepa.

Ja, frustracije med mladimi. Veste, delali bi. Študirali bi. Nekaj bi radi naredili iz sebe. Ampak ko gledamo vse te nastale razmere, doživljamo dodatne blokade. Pa ali ima sploh vse to smisla? Ne vem, ali moram svoj kompas zamenjati z podjetniškim, ki bi mi mogoče kazal v smer najbolj optimalnega doprinosa, s katerim bom finančno bolje shajala? Ali naj se držim napol začrtane poti, ki mi jo veter vedno znova malo zabriše in jo moram vseskozi popravljati? Naj nadaljujem svojo željo po izobrazbi, po razumevanju znanosti in po nečem na čemer so Grki osnovali celo evropsko civilizacijo?

Ironično, da se naslavljam na Grke, ko pa so ravno oni danes največji poraženci.

Ampak tudi če bankrotiramo, mi nihče ne more vzeti tistega kar imam v glavi. Tisto kar vem in znam.

Mah, je*eš to blokado. Moj um je madarfakin’ tank.

[candyflossswirl]

For those who haven't seen Beats, Rhymes & Life: The travels of A tribe Called Quest yet, do yourself a favor. I am a huge fan of ATCQ and of Michael Rapaport, the actor/producer that is the man behind this documentary. An insight into the beginnings, the break ups and the come backs of friends, mentors, brothers and one of great artists of our time, the documentary we leave you in to praying for another A tribe Called Quest album, since they owe Jive record label another album according to their six album record deal, since 1998.

Let's just hope they won't make us wait for long.

[candyflossswirl]

Pete Rock feat. C.L. Smooth - They reminisce over you

You can play this joint anytime, the party be bouncin'.