So, I've been thinking a lot about the fact that some experiences we have, some things we see, can never really be translated in words or art. 

For example...I was chatting on wotever chat earlier today. It was the usual crap, you know, boys trying to chat up girls, or other boys, and so on. 

I was kinda getting really bored and all, and was about to leave, when this guy asked me to chat privately. I immediately thought he was gonna ask me to do stuff on the cam and crap, so I was about the tell him: " no, thanks", but then he said that he just wanted to talk, that he felt like talking to someone he didn't know and all. 

So I accepted, I was, you know, intrigued and all, and I asked him: " what do you wanna talk about?" and he, like, started telling me about this woman he really fancies. 

He said he was 18 and this woman was  30 or something. She was like his teacher or something I didn't get, but that's not the point. 

Point is, Nick said ( well, Nick is this guy's name of course) that she was real sweet and all with him, but he was truly in love, like mad, with her. 

I didn't really have much to say about it honestly, wasn't much help to him, but we just carried on chatting for like two hours, and he got so passionate about the whole thing that I kinda started thinking that maybe he'd forgotten that I wasn't his best friend and all, but just a whoever guy he met on wotever chat. 

But he didn't seem to mind that at all, he just kept going on and on about this woman, and it was a real pleasure to read his words, it almost felt like you could HEAR him speaking, or crying or shouting. Man, was he passionate. 

I hope talking to me was helpful for him, coz for me was kind of the opposite, actually. ..

it made me feel sad like hell, coz I started thinking about my own sentimental situation and realized I have none...

He kept saying, you should see her and stuff, but I thought that I don't actually want to see HER at all, coz for me her is a no one, but for him is so special...I thought that I much preferred to imagine this woman as I would have liked her to be...I didn't care at all what she looks like in reality.

 Reality is not everything, you know. 

I was on the tube yesterday, and in front of me there was this woman with her two children.

I could hear her talking, partly to them patly to herself. She kept telling the youngest of the children to stop moving, seat properly, etc...and, with the other, who could have been about 10, she kept talking about school matters, clothes, timetables, and tidying up of bedrooms.

I could see the bored faces of the two boys who were, however, obviuosly so used to their mother's limited choice of discussion that they didn't care anymore.

There seemed to be an acceptance, a state of peace, on their behalf...their expressions seemed to say: " this is the way it is and there isn't much we can do about it, so let's just accept it ".

Instead of making me irritated, as it normally would, this reaction worked on me in a different way: it almost made me want to be like that, to stop fighting and jst get carried away by the flow.

Just stop thinking and accept the future as it comes. That would be so much easier.

I have this thing I love about fiinding a spot somewhere which I consider my " house" and where I can spend time undisturbed. I have found such a place not too far from London. It's a little park nearby a cemetery. I just sit down there and read, Homer, at the moment. The first time I happened to get there I found the park deserted, apart from a four - year - old-or - something kid who was sitting there, looking around with kind of crazy eyes ( don't ask me why!). So, I just sat down as well and started drawing this kid and added a few benches, the grass and other stuff that I cold see from that position. So I kind of started to think that perhaps reality is enough? That we don't need to add anything to it?

I don't know....maybe it's just bullshit.
I mean, if you stick to nature in a way you limit yourself a lot. So, yes, I'm not even sure why I felt that when I was drawing that kid. I suppose I just saw a lot of beauty in reality.
I refuse every rule, I think rules are the exact opposite of true feelings, of passion.
I know we do need some sort of rule in order to live together on the same planet...so many of us.
But I hate everything that's moderated...I mean, if you want to love, LOVE! if you want to hate, HATE...but DO IT!

Why does this happen so rarely?

Dreams

Someone in the past has already said that life is nothing but a dream, and this idea is always present in my thoughts.

If you think of the limits we have to express our creativity and intelligence...and if you think of the fact that most people's lives are based on material needs that have no other purpose but to prolong their silly lives...and also that satisfaction in general is just something that allows us not to think of our actual situations...I don't really know what to say about all this.

And if I look inside myself, I find obscurity rather than positive energy.
Which kind of makes me scared, and confused, and numb, so I just smile and carry on trough this life, in a dreamlike state.

After all, grown ups are exactly like children. They have no idea where they wanna go and where they've come from. They just keep going, because they take for granted, and accept, the fact that they have to.
Well, in a way sometime I kind of envy these people whose lives are like children's: they just label everything they do and are, they get paid, buy more things, get paid again, and they're happy. Lucky them, in a way.

...and Boring

I'm starting to suspect people are exactly the same everywhere you go.
I mean, what's the point of meeting so many people all the time if then none of them means anything for you?

Most people are just so busy working that, when they have a bit of freedom, they try as hard as possible to fill it with more work! How idiotic is that?

Oh, Shola ( she used to comment on my blog, but she's nowhere to be seen lately) said something interesting about this. I'll quote her:

"No one really knows themselves and when they do, they are too old to do something about it. Huahaha."

I think the laughter is actually the wisest part of the sentence.

I suppose it's all a matter of letting oneself go and be a bit...carefree?
Like when we were children maybe.
I just have to avoid thinking of all the energies that are in me. It's like knowing that you're a super hero but being unable to show that to the world. I don't knwo if this makes sense...
err...well, it's just this sensation of having so much stuff inside that just lies there and rots away because you can't use it, or not yet. You have to hide your real identity, in a way.
And this really pisses me off.

But then, I suppose every 'freak' is doomed not to be understood.

This thought makes me a bit sad because it reminds me of the conversations I used to have with my once-upon-a-time best friend, D.
I used to have a really ace time with him. When I was with him I felt I couldn't, didn't need to, go further, because what I was already was as far as I could go, that is, perfect.
It was rare, pure perfection. It was never 'perfect' in the universal sense, if there is such a sense, but it was perfect in its own being obviously imperfect.

aahhhhh, I'm tripping over my own words now.

Oh, I met this guy a few days ago...he's an artist and he's quite cute : )
But he's one of these people who boast about their own culture by insisting that they don't know anything, which is kind of annoying, so I don't know what's gonna happen.
So, he came to my place and I showed him some drawings and shit I've made...he said he liked them, and he seemed honest. But then he kept going on and on about what he's read and this and that, and it all became a bit boring really.

But at least he's real...not like these people you meet that pretend to be your friends and then just disappear.

People are Strange...

Well, yes, as my grandma would say, " what a world we live in!"

I was walking down the road yesterday, and I saw this woman on the floor, she had fallen or something. So I offered to help...you know, kindness and all that shit. And, you wanna know what?

She basically kicked me with her bag!

I mean, WTF?

I'm gonna stick to myself from now on...

No books

Hey, you've proposed to send me more books to read...but no, don't. Actually, I want to try and keep away from books for a while. I don't want to be guided and encouraged more than I already am: I am excited enough already on my own, eheh. I feel I'd actually need something like a lullaby...I've tried to read something really boring like Homer, but then it turned out not being boring at all, so it didn't really work...
I literally feel excitement running through my veins..how can I explain to you? I'll never see a moodier, more unstable person than myself now. Yes, I know this might sound werid to others: but I know you'll understand, right? I mean, you've seen me going nuts enough times, haven't you?
And I just keep over indulging my heart, I'd be such a sweet parent if my heart were a child : )

But hey... shush! don't tell this around....
Ya know...People are strange ( stranger than me)

On May the 10th (Sunday) - trippy day

Hey, I haven't written about it yet, I didn't feel like it, but now I will.

On Sunday I had this weird moment where I felt absolutely happy and, I dunno, like almost too happy without any reason. It was sunny and stuff and I was in my bedroom alone and I felt so, like, in peace and stuff. I wanted to write it dowon or make a drawing or something, but I just couldn't, which kind of scared me because, well, I thought, what if this happiness spoils my creativity?

I just had to go outside, so I went to a park and just lied in the grass....man, I was ridiculously happy!And I hadn't smoked weed or anthing! I spent hours looking at the grass and observing the worms and things that live there. And I was kind of overwhelmed by the sensation of the grass under me, and the sky above me, and felt a strong desire to write it all down on paper. I wished I could just transfer all my thoughts on a piece of paper, like a mirror does with my face.

But I couldn't, obviously. And that made me feel very weak, in a way.

After May 4th 2009

Hey friend, ( you know I'm talking to you, don't you?) I am sooo glad I left! Human beings, and their hearts, are so bloody strange sometimes! I was havign an ace time with you, seriously, you know I love you man, but I must say I don't regret leaving at all. I'm sure you'll forgive me. I'm starting to think everybody was there to make me feel weird, in some way. I mean, you know Leonore? Gosh, she was so into me I felt I had an alien in my belly or something. I mean, I could stand her sister, she was kind of silly and that was alright, but Leonore! She just made this big drama out of everything just because I wasn't into her. It's not my fault, you know...but at the same time I do feel a bit guilty...I mean, perhaps I encouraged her without noticing. I did spend time with her, and we had quite an enjoyable time together too, you were there so you know. I simply didn't understand that the reality wasn't as laughable. I didn't take it seriously enough. I mean, I didn't...gosh, what state I'm in...I'll try and be better in the future, in a way or the other.
I'm gonna try and stop whining about everything and think about the present a bit more. Let the past take care of itself. Yeah, I see what you meant when you said that I can't carry on racking my brains over the past...you're so wise sometimes.
I've had this argument with my mum, but I don't feel like talking about it now. Nothing big. I just realize how misunderstanding sometimes is worse than bad actions...coz things end up being even worse when people don't understan each other.

Anyhow...I'm feeling allright at the mom. I just love being alone, some days ago, on the 4th to be precise, I spent a few hours walking down the canal, and it was glorious: sun, spring, all made me feel great, which is unusual. I wished I could be a bird or a fly or something really light. Being in town is not that nice, but as soon as you go to a park or somethin

g, it's just great.
I found this little garden with an old shed in it, and I just spent sometime in the shed, thinking. It felt like there was something really, how can I say, 'sensitive' about that garden...I dunno...but it made me feel very emotional ( not unusual). And I started to think I'd love to own that garden.

Song of the Sleepless Wanderer

You who from the darkness are, 

You who soothe all pain and gloom, 

And the doubly fucked up heart, 

turn into a new born bloom ,

I am tired with contending!

Why this rapture and doom?

Inspiration descending, 

into my heart, ah, loom!

GLOOMY SUNDAY

Sunday is gloomy,

My hours are slumberless

Dearest the shadows

I live with are numberless

Little white flowers

Will never awaken you

Not where the black coaches

Sorrow has taken you

Angels have no thoughts

Of ever returning you

Wouldnt they be angry

If I thought of joining you?

Gloomy sunday

Gloomy is sunday,

With shadows I spend it all

My heart and i

Have decided to end it all

Soon therell be candles

And prayers that are said I know

But let them not weep

Let them know that Im glad to go

Death is no dream

For in death Im caressin you

With the last breath of my soul

Ill be blessin you

Gloomy sunday

Dreaming, I was only dreaming

I wake and I find you asleep

In the deep of my heart here

Darling I hope

That my dream never haunted you

My heart is tellin you

How much I wanted you

Gloomy sunday

Come Back

Come back, come back, dear friend, my only friend, come back. I swear I'll be good. My grumpiness was just a joke I took too far, and now I'm more sorry than one can say. I haven't stopped crying for two whole days.Come back.  Take heart, dear friend. Nothing is lost.  All you have to do is make the return journey. We shall live here bravely an patiently. Oh! I beg you. It is for your own good, anyway.

Listen only to your kind heart.

Tell me quickly if I'm to join you.

Yours for life, 

Oscar

IT'S A WONDERFUL WORLD, AFTER ALL...

Teen Robs Shop With Banana Then Eats Evidence

2 hours 41 mins ago

 © Sky News 2009

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A teenager was caught trying to rob a store with a banana - then ate the makeshift weapon to destroy the evidence.Skip related content

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Teen Robs Shop With Banana Then Eats EvidenceEnlarge photo

Sadly for John Szwalla he was unable to swallow the skin which was duly photographed by police in North Carolina, America.

The 17-year-old is currently in the county jail charged with attempted armed robbery.

The bizarre drama began when Szwalla entered the 109 Biz Center in Winston-Salem with a banana under his shirt.

The hapless thief told staff in the internet cafe that he had a gun and demanded cash, according to local reports.

Owner Bobby Ray Mabe said he and a customer jumped on to Szwalla, pinning him into a chair before deputies arrived.

But while they waited for police, Mabe says the teen stuffed the banana into his mouth and swallowed it.

When deputies arrived they took pictures of the banana peel instead.

Forsyth County Sheriff's office spokesman Major Brad Stanley said police joked about charging Szwalla with destroying evidence.

"If he had had a gun he would've shot me," Mabe said yesterday.

"But he had a banana," he added.

Szwalla faces a charge of attempted armed robbery. Jail officials said he does not have an lawyer.

Szwalla is in the Forsyth County Jail, with bond set at £35,000.

Thomas

Thomas was lying on his bed, not asleep and not awake, his head almost entirely hidden by an open book, page 93, beginning of chapter 5. 

He couldn't tell whether he was asleep or not: he could see something, but, as far as he knew, it could have easily been a dream. Mountains, sky. Epic landscape.

He waited until his limbs were completely numb, and then he tried to get up, rightly predicting that feeling of little metal bugs crawling on your body you get when the blood in your veins starts to circulate again.

Thomas ignored the dizziness as he arose from the bed, picked from the floor the fallen book that had once been on his eyes, and walked towards the kitchen.

His mother was there, sitting at the table, reading. Her position ( he could see her profile against the white of the kitchen's walls) reminded him of some 19th century British painting.

She didn't raise her head from her novel, so he walked to the fridge and took a bottle of water.  He was pretty sure there were just his mum and him in the kitchen. And yet, he could suddenly hear other voices, many, loud voices that spoke at the same time, mixing up, not letting him hear what each of them was trying to say. 

He could hear them as if they were coming from all around him ,and from inside him too. There were voices in his ears, in his stomach and in his eyes. They got louder and louder, like an angry crowd.

He collapsed. 

..............................................................................................................................

'What year are we in, boy?'

' uh...2006?'

It was actually 2007. Thomas's eye-lids opened to reveal the face of a yellow dressed young man. He could also see the face of his mother in a somehow blurry background.

 

' What is your name?' the yellow man asked him

' Thomas' he answered. - What is this? Is this a joke or what? -

' What happened?' asked Thomas, confused.

' Nothing to worry about. You fainted and were unconscious for a few minutes. We'll now take you to the hospital to make sure everything is fine.'

- Jesus... - thought Thomas. 

Another similar man emerged from nowhere. He, together with the other, grabbed the boy's body and positioned it on a stretcher. 

Thomas observed the scene from somewhere outside, and slightly above, his body.

The journey on the ambulance was a long attempt not to throw up.

In the hospital, Thomas was asked by a middle-aged nurse to lie on a bed. 

She, all smiles, measured his blood pressure and heart beat. 

Touching his hip bones from over the jumper she shook her head slightly and said: ' Too thin'.

Thomas thought he felt fine, much better in fact.

They informed him he had had a mild epileptic attack, and asked him to describe what he had felt. 

He remembered the voices very well, but was somehow unable to talk about them. He perhaps secretly thought there wasn't a scientific explanation for them. They could have been dead people's voices, or Satan or aliens or something like that.

He was pleased enough to realize that the doctors weren't quite sure how to explain what had happened to him. They were obviously attempting to give answers, but none of them seemed convincing, not even to them.

Thomas left the hospital feeling tired, but somehow extraordinarily relaxed. It was as if that episode had helped him to release an overload of tension.

And then, of course, he was excited at the idea of telling his friend the following day.

He thought it felt good to know he was a little bit mad.    

 

perhaps I don't want to live anymore???

my sketchbook