dropp

waking up- shaking dreams from the hair- sometimes i dare to remember. sometimes i dare to dream on. sometimes, although less and less, I dare creating possibilities.

tonight i woke up meandering trough the futures, and picking up the ones i liked the most. no, not liked- found the most challenging. one of them wore an image of me falling from 20 store building. 

and it suited pretty well, might I add. 

dropp, with a double p. that is how i see it. just another way of saying- i'm tired. exhausted. 

enough

enough

enough.

please make me turn to other side to the pillow, close my eyes and go back to dreaming.

and this one is for the loves which were meant to die

just to give birth to phoenixes

of life yet to be

who might take their time

to rise from the ashes

one day i will write like this, i promise

but till then,

this

l8 nite

-So, you think I am doing good?- I asked her, the Green woman. Priestess of wishes fulfilled. Dreams yet undreamed to be made true. 

She smiled. 

-What do you think?

I could have seen that coming. Whenever I ask her a question she answers with one. (If I bloody wanted to know what I think, I would talk with bloody mirror). 

-I think it looks like that. I have job. Friends. Semi lovers, weekenders. Perspective. Challenges. 

-But?- she can read me as a road sign. Black letters on yellow surface, that's what I am for her.

-But, there is something missing. There is too much order to maintain. Everything seems to be at its place.

She is silent. For 28 seconds.

-Isn't that what you wanted?

-That was what I was aiming to, yes. That's what I accomplished, yes. That's what I maintain, also. Order. 

-Well, my dear- her long ginger hair dances with the wind- Order is the thing you maintain. For as you already, and too well, might I add, know- Chaos does pretty good job at maintaining itself.

I hate how she can be wise when the only thing I need is simple yes.

Or no.

aw aww aaawwww!! (tsk tsk tsk)

Oh you shouldn't have kissed me and got me so excited
And when you asked me out I really was delighted
So we went to a pub in Belsize Park
And we cheered on England as the sky grew dark

Oh you shouldn't have kissed me cause you started a fire
But then I found out that you're a serial liar

You lied about your status
You lied about your life
You never mentioned your three children
And the fact you have a wife
Now it's England 2 Colombia 0
And I know just how those Colombians feel

If you hadn't passed out while I was talking to your friend
It could have really ended badly cause you very nearly had me
If he hadn't taken pity on my heart full of desire
I might never have found out you're a serial liar

You lied about your status
You lied about your life
You forgot you have three children
You forgot you have a wife
Now it's England 2 Colombia 0
And I know just how those Colombians feel

It is not in my nature to ever pick the winning team
Sometimes I think I'm happy then I remember it's a dream
Now it isn't in my nature to ever pick a winner
I always pick a bastard who would have me for his dinner

I can never possess the object of my desire
Cause he's bound to turn out to be a serial liar
OK I didn't mention my kids, I thought I'd wait a bit
But I am free and single and he's a lying git

Cause he lied about his status
He lied about his life
He forgot he had three children
He forgot he had a wife
And it's England 2 Colombia 0
I know just how those Colombians feel

So I got into a taxi and sobbed all the way home
Called my friend up in Sao Paulo and cried down the phone
I played some tragic music and I lay down to die
But later I woke and I hadn't stopped crying

You should never have kissed me, you tasted of deceit
Your perfume was Adultery but I'm not a piece of meat
So I'll be the one that you couldn't acquire
I found out in time you're a serial liar

You lied about your status
You lied about your life
And I pity your three children
And I pity your poor wife
Now you can go to Hell
I'm going to Brazil
Still it's England 2 Colombia 0

there

bristolin'

I broke the spell and uttered a sentence.

"We have to talk."

The words kicked back from the walls. The only thing which stayed was silence, hard and misunderstood. 

The bells rang.  

We spoke a bit, about weather and kids and work. His hand held mine. Glances never met. 

And there, on the border of our heavily guarded worlds we made a silent pact which pronounced us friends.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

We never saw each other again.

the traffic on (the?) M4

When we are together

elaborate witty jokes

or talks

decide to sign off for the time being.

Small talk takes a break

and runs away to the nearest woods.

(laughing out loud, I presume)

News of the day

are not new and not today's job

anymore

For he is around.

The list of questions

I gathered so carefully

unlists

and loses all the question marks

I want to be interesting

I want to enchant

I want to use all the little tricks

all the big words I know

But small ones

keep coming their way

and stop

and watch

and giggle

(I am sure)

Its him and me and silence.

"The traffic on (the?) M4

was awful today

wasn't it?"

not even that line would work

but hey, girl,

thanx for the tip.

aaargh!!!

a) the italic things in the last post are from wikipedia

b) I apologize for crazy formatting and i will never push that button again

maybe.

hihihi

St Pauls Carnival- facts and starters

The story of St. Pauls Afrikan Caribbean Carnival is one of a community's success; from its small beginnings in the late sixties to the present day. The whole event now takes over the neighbourhood of St. Pauls in Bristol and involves schools, community groups and host professional performers. Until recently St Pauls has had a large Afrikan Caribbean population demonstrated by the strong community spirit shown in this annual carnival.

It took ages to find a parking spot. So we were officially late for procession. Luckily, it also took ages for procession to start. So we were just on time. We saw feather~people. Dance of labelled T-shirts. Leaders of tomorrow. Hopes for today. The drums poured the rhythm in. The alligator~bike passed us by.

When crowd became too big and claustrophobic we found a grass spot. And sat, vine tasting, life feasting. Enjoying.

When I first came to Bristol, I was advised against coming to this part of town.

"St Pauls is an inner suburb of Bristol, England, situated just north east of the city centre and west of the M32. In the early 18th century it was laid out as one of Bristol's first suburbs. Its turbulent history has been marked by rapid growth. The area was damaged during World War II followed by large immigration after the war which left the area a bit neglected, with crime and drugs becoming common in St Pauls."

"Do you know the story about the carnival?"

"No.", I reply. 

I hear about immigration. I hear about race issues. Story leaves st Pauls behind and goes deeper. I learn that only white children were evacuated. Black ones stayed. To be bombed. I learn that one of those who were left behind never left. He stayed to help. To be the voice of neglected. PR of silent ones. Frightened ones. Even now, years and years after, every now and then guest pops in just to say how much of change he brought.  

I see feather~people and flocks of rainbows around us, on a grass triangle at the end of city road. 

I hear story about amazing man.

There is a myriad of theories explaining why people choose to behave in one way or the other. Empirically, and when it comes to others, I completely agree with some things said. Yes, you need love. Yes, you need crises. Yes, that which does not kill us makes us stronger but, to quote Gaiman: "...but which does kill us, kill us and aint that a bitch?" (Signal to noise, Neil Gaiman & Dave McKean).

How do you know which is which

how to choose

when to start

and when to stop?

Are great men born or nourished, in this series of experiments (LIFE)? 

Is fear there to stop us or to inspire us? (YES)

What will happen if I push this button? 

 

'

once upon I time, all I did was not to turn around.

the season passed.

the moon changed phases

and I had a chance not to turn around again.

missed it.

under the pale blue skies

I did not do the part of storytelling

the glances did not do the part of meeting

at first, there was not too much to say.

that is, until the lips met.

and when they do meet

who does the part of talking?

and when the talk is important

who breaches the silence's ties?

when all is as it should be

and all can be

as it did not happen...

and so it happened

sunday, 7:30 pm.
A friend and me are off to meet my biological father.
And this is how it happened:

me: (ringing the bell)
a woman at the other side of the door (double glazed glass, so we can't see her properly):
Who is it?
me: Jelena
(off she goes. we wait. after half a minute, she comes back)
and says: What do you want?
(still not opening the door)
me: To meet my biological father. (duuuh!)
(off she goes again. after a minute or so, she comes back. still not opening the door)
and says: There is no one at home
(guess she went to double check it)
silence.
a friend says, for I really really can't speak at the moment:
She just wants to say hi (me mumbles thank you)
she says: I have no idea who you are but this is none of your business.
me: Ok. when shall i come back?
(off she goes. we wait. and wait. wait a bit more)
she: Do not come back, Jelena.