Showing posts with label ScapeS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ScapeS. Show all posts

MODERN TALKING

We’re all dumb nowadays. We play deaf and use our hands for speaking. We speak in signs, in keyboard ciphers, multiplying witnesses and intermediaries on the way. Our conversations have become more meaningful, less ephemeral. They are more than just the fodder for thought and memory. They’re dangerous, like everything that never disappears. Once you write something down, it starts living its own life – a butterfly-effect one, full of repercussions and interpretations. You can’t deny anything anymore, not in the safe, old-fashioned, “I-never-said-that” kind of way. Yes, you did! Look, idiot! LOOK what you SAID!

As ridiculous as it sounds (or reads), YES! We have lived to the day when conversations can be seen, but not heard. And therefore they can be misunderstood to one’s heart’s desire.. After all, they are only valid in real time and never after. And only at that very time can they be understood. And only by those involved. And sometimes they simply can’t be and that’s that. 

Lots of limitations, wouldn’t you say? This modern sign language is most people’s second, not first, remember? And therefore, no one’s ever as good at using their hands for speaking as those less fortunate ones, not given any other choice.

So maybe it’s not worth saving your breath and involving hands in conversations, hiring expensive intermediaries who charge you extra every time you're mis-taken. Maybe writing down the IT you MEAN should be banned. It’s no use. Recall the limitations. Recall the many times you’ve failed.

But you still LIKE it. Can’t argue with that.

Save your breath (if you like) and feel free to use your hands to communicate. But do it properly and directly. Face to face, hand in hand, skin on skin. That’s what your hands are really for. And maybe, but just maybe, you'll find an application for your mouth, too. And a slip of the tongue will earn you a small fortune rather than cost one.

GROUND ZERO

Odd.

I’m not there even. Not even there. Am I not? Oh I am. Zero tolerance.

I’ll come, always. Always in (a) second.

What floats on water? The current cipher. The love.

That’s how you lose your voice. That’s how you lose.

2 x 1006

Do 2 much, go 2 far. Dare 2 try. You won’t get far. Consequences in 2 faces spit, but not 2 long. Cos it’s the very last of years. 2 times thousand and six.

Run 2 your life, it's never 2 late (Can’t have your cake and eat it, 2). It won’t last long.. 2 short now 2 regret. Cos it’s the very last of years. 2 times thousand and six.

HIDING WHERE YOU'LL FIND ME

You can do one thing only. Ready or not. Like it or not. You just can’t do anything else. And you’re going crazy cos it’s never finished. You are. In a state, ununited. Put the thing away, drop it, smash it. It’ll be back soon.

The highlights of their days are trivial. Every talk is small. You can't be bothered. And when you are, you’re with them in the flesh; spirit fixating on the one and only something. In circles. Over and over again. Again, again, again and again. It’s never gone. You are.

It's like love, this strive for perfection. So you can only be alone. It's like love, a scary thing. So you crave company. Someone like you, only simpler. An embrace in which you could hide and never get out. The let’s-call-it understanding, the warmth of seeming to be-long. But you won't be-long. Soon it will be back.


I never asked for it. Crap. Artist. Artisan. You name it. Congratulations, yeah right. Like it's something to CongRatulAte uPon.

"IT'S ALL THE STREETS YOU CROSSED, NOT SO LONG AGO.."

One of the most absorbing dreams I’ve ever dreamt took place in the early 70s. Took time is more like it. What a misfit I was in my twenty-first century out-fit.. But I felt right in (the) place. I took a good look and an even better breath of the forty-years-younger air and headed to visit my eighteen-year-old parents. That’s what I'd travelled in night-time for. And I knew exactly where to find them.. After all, in thirty years' time the very same red-brick high school would become my own.

I had that dream a few good years ago, but only now do I feel that I was born too late. Not because of the dream alone. Not because I enviously wish I had been there to appreciate the then music, the fashion. Not because things were rarely made in China, of plastic. Not even because there was lots of post, not post-. Why(,) then? Visuals – somewhat monochromatic, tastes – macrobiotic. It was okay to be a virgin. Of any kind. Things were rated, harder to get.. It required effort to have. A hobby, a girlfriend, a whatever.

Shouldn’t the “now” go all red to hear that..? Knows no shame, so.. no. But flamboyant as it is.. just look.. it pales. In contrast. In comparison.

ARE YOU JUNKING ME??

I think I’m on the verge of yet another obsession. Junk. Oh dear.. so compulsive analyzing, imploding, scribbling and washing hands aren’t enough..? Seriously? Sigh.

Looks like it was triggered yesterday. I was deceived into helping to carry out.. an incident of removing junk just to make it junk around someplace else. Hated the idea of this very someplace else. So once I smelt the rat lurking inside those black bags, I stopped lending a hand. Instead, I chose the company of wild boars, deep in hope that some kind Mr. Boar might be interested in biting off the treacherous limb of mine. But no. Chaining my outraged little self to a tree would be far from eco and even further from logical.. So I ended up lowering the head and swearing an acid blue streak.

And so it happened. Now I’m trying to clean up all the fly-inviting junk that surrounds me. For good. Step one? No more junk food. I’m already lighter and feel like a real smart ass having those three meals a day (only!) according to the no-white-flour-and-refined-sugar-after-lunch strategy. This first step will make those other steps to take less heavy, because there is (literally) less of the step taker.. Although it needs to be said that losing weight is actually optional. It’s burning fat that isn’t. But that’s another story.


NATURALLY





I went to the river and it was there. You can count on nature. Always. It has this curious quality of influencing moods, so I went to see if it would do any good today. And yes, it has soothed me a little.
And to think that this Canadian friend of mine cannot get his head around the fact Poles love forests so much.. Maybe it’s because his people grubbed out whatever they found in their way so as to make the other continent fit for human habitation.. No mercy = No sentiment = No wonder. Yep, that must be it.

IN THERAPY

How long does it take a bashful scribbler to admit that they are a fully-fledged writer? It has taken me years to understand that I might after all be one. I might have been one all the way. The friend who’s always claimed so is probably blue in the face by now.

Well, the circumstances have been conductive, that’s all. Silence, exclusive rights to use the computer equipment, a pair of understanding parents somewhat sensing I shouldn’t be disturbed just now. I’m idling my time away, some might say. Scribble? At the weekend? You could travel, party or chat with the near and dear! Well, the solitary in me likes to think that what she's doing now matters. It does, doesn’t it? For me, it’s either this or a shrink sometimes. Which one would you go for?

EXTRACTED





Brick walls refuse to respond. On false pretences they assume their glazed looks. All deaf-mute. Just deflect.. bang.. bang.. bang.. It’s dauntingly, mischievously convenient to play one. Never bend or collapse. Just stand still. If only the corollaries were reversible.. If only the genies in walls could simply jump out when a whim takes them.. I’m not Spanish so I cannot draw a window just anywhere and flee. Nor can I use an extracted, portable one like this. There’s a brick wall on the other side, which will handle me likewise. Eye for an eye. Grim laws of dynamics.

IF YOU HAD COMPLETED ME..

I remember being so thoughtful it would make one girlish face smile and one pale womanly complexion go inwardly red enough to match her curtains. Thoughtfulness gave me hope my first love would last or be last, in this or other dimensions. It made me doubt all the general directions and feel clean-handedly hurt by nothing in particular. Thoughtful might not mean full of thought, it might not mean original and out of space, but it somewhat defined me. And sad to say, nothing has defined me since. Not the the way it did, at least.


17.11.2009 14:55

YOUR BASKET IS MY BIN

I don't like basketball and I've been forced to have too much to do with it recently. It's always like this with things I don't really like. No matter how many times I try to scorn and forget them, they always come back flexing their newly built muscles in my face.


I feel stuck in something I was fascinated with at the age of ten and never after. I don't remember marrying you, actually. A short affair resulting in a "life-long" thing.. How pathetic. How unwanted. I don't have feelings for you anymore, basketball. I want a divorce.

TAKE ME, DON'T BREAK ME

It's not the fault of the plate that it's chipped; it's the careless creator or a clumsy user or a bull in a china shop that is to blame. In other words, it's your fault. Why do you keep omitting the poor victims of your own miscarriage of fingers and thumbs? What makes you prefer to eat from the ones that are new and shiny and dull? Why do you let them brag about their popularity in the depths of a cupboard, sending the old, experienced ones to the bottom of the queue to die of suffocation? All style before content, as always. If you happen to be offended (being a sensible and tolerant one), you may feel obliged to choose one who's constructively challenged next time you need a support for your preppy sandwich. Don't. Nothing hurts more than that.

SENSELESS

Onwards, earthbound, come you. Skywards: to the plan-it-concealment. At large and castless: never to be looked at and for. Towards the brightness reflected; a shooting star, harmless and blank. Remote, yet button-free; spinning but still judging sound; in orbit, but eyeless and blind. A way. A maze. No gravity and no time. Black holes with mirrors inside.

I-WITNESS:

FINAL WORD


Truth is a matter of the imagination.

U.K.L.
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