life

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was cutting some hand shapes for a painting
and don’t even want to count how many times during these days I freaked out a little when some dark hand silhouette looked at me from some corner where I dropped it
or how many times I walked around the room saying “where is my hand?!” and “where did my hand go?!”
a theatre of one without the audience

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the literature that makes a point to tell people of evil (and other disgusting things) that exists can’t attract me…
because we already know that evil exists
what it needs to be telling is that evil can be dealt with, destroyed or overturned

and overall, I prefer to read about things I want more in my life, than about those I don’t really want to exist in it at all

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found this going around the Internet once
Reasons for admitting women into an asylum:

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I find a few other points also interesting.

Menstrual deranged?
Over action of the mind?
Tobacco and masturbation?
Bad whiskey?
Excitement as officer?
Time of life?

Might be a fun idea to count how many of them I currently match.

(Also, when I read ‘congestion of brain’ I always imagine something less ‘stroke’ and more ‘constipation inside the head’ for some reason… )

 

 

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I wanted to start this sentence with ‘people who know me will know’, and then realized that yeah, those might exists only in my head, so…

Let’s try again.

What I wanted to say is that while I’m generally very anti-drug and anti-addiction by my nature (this being that something that I would expect people who know me know), as in I couldn’t get into a habitual use of anything even if I tried, and I have no desire to try what so ever (and I had more than enough chances to in the past, with smoking and people prescribing me easy-to-hooked-on drugs), sometimes I genuinely get scared of getting addicted to painkillers, just from the way it feels when they finally start working on the days when I wake up with a head-splitting headache that almost has me in tears when I can’t get in under control for three hours… And then when the painkillers finally work and I want to start crying for an entirely different reason, it feels so good that it’s the only time in my life when I can sort of understand why would someone get addicted to it.

Though, probably worth mentioning, the medicine I take is the very mild one and proper from a normal local drug store, and I’ve never actually seen the ‘funny’ sort of painkillers they often show in American tv-dramas. It’s just gets a little scary when the few hours I get on the combination of painkillers and some sweet latte is the best I feel these days.

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It is a very strange feeling
and generally a strange thing to exist in the world, if you think about it, …

when you are pitied because you’re ‘too smart’ and ‘the world is made to be kinder for stupid people’, and basically ‘there probably isn’t a place for you’, and ‘you should try pretending to be simpler for your own good’

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everyone has their own problems with ID photos
mine is that my eyes always look like I’m too old for this shit, too tired for this shit, and frankly couldn’t care less about this shit.

Which doesn’t help when it’s supposed to go on your CV and need to be looking young and ambitious.

Had to re-take it 8 times, until there was at least one where I still looked bored, but at least not like I just killed someone. Or am going too. And don’t feel much on the topic.

Photos don’t lie, I really am too old and too tired for this shit. Always was.

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What do you do when the two people inside you, suddenly want to start living two completely different lives?

On top of everything, lives on different sides of a planet.

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what I really dislike, is when I go to a live and people next to me start to take more of my attention than the people on the stage

one time there was a girl (woman?)
Who started the evening by taking off her pink very high-hilled pumps. And standing barefoot on the cold, dirty floor (it’s winter, people around were wearing boots) of the live house. Which was enough of wtf on itself. But next she started to make noises of birthing lioness right next to me. Which is very hard to stay indifferent to. Later she also used her hair to switch everyone around and sweep the floor while at it. (She probably should’ve swept first, and then taken her shoes off)
It’s not even really annoying, more funny if anything, but it just gets in the way of focusing on what I went there to focus on…

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when you realize that in this world in too many instances being right automatically means being the minority

in fact I’m having a hard time remembering when it does not

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I’ve been told before (I think, maybe) that people don’t like me for seeing black and white where I’m supposed to see ‘life’

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while I was blank-ing in front of the tv with a book…
there was a some kind of new ‘dating program’… which was about some famous people, choosing their ‘favorite type of face’ from a big catalog-like list of people of opposite sex who applied, than choosing the favorite hair style for them, dressing them up in favorite kind of clothes… and then meeting with them in the studio, and exchanging contact information if they liked each other… Probably. I’m not sure what’s it all about.

The reason why it made me put down my book for a while, is that, listening to people talk about what kind of face they like, what kind of eyes, what kind of hair style, clothes… in details, non-stop, I was automatically trying to imagine what I would do in their place, … and couldn’t.
I don’t think I ever had a desire to dress someone up like a doll for my own liking. Yes there styles that I find more attractive than others, but… Whenever I try to imagine, I get this… “draw back” feeling… that I can’t like someone I had to make, or something.
After 30 minutes of spacing out into the television trying to sort out my feelings about what I was seeing, I dropped the topic on the though that probably ‘being themselves and knowing who they are’, in other words originality, integrity… and how do you call it? completeness of the individuality? is a very important factor for me in liking someone… I guess I want to like someone for only who they are, not for what I, or someone else, made them into…