I’m tempted to write about how much this means to me. I really am. But then again, should I? I mean, who’s going to read to this? People are going to judge me? I don’t know. I feel terrible about all of this. And I can’t even begin to think about what “this” it. Strange, isn’t it? I know. The perks of being a human being. A man. A woman. A complicated walking thing. Yes, sucks. I know. But to be honest with you that wasn’t the point. Of all this I mean, of this nonsense. And not, the life part. That is a bigger nonsense that I couldn’t even try to put into words. Even images wouldn’t be accurate enough. No, what I mean is, gosh, where am I going with this? Well, okay. Let’s start again. Something happened recently. Something terrible, or something really good, depending on perspectives. And that’s the thing – I am both perspectives. I can’t say whether or not I’m pleased, or sad, or mad. Whatever. I can’t say anything anymore, about me, that is. And this, this impression, this feeling. This means a lot to me. Somewhere somehow, in a way, that’s what real freedom is. How? you’d ask. Well hold on a second. Close your apps and settle your phone down. Look at me and think. Just imagine you react to something without any preconceived moral, knowledge, rule of thumb or whatever the fuck, sorry, crossing that fuck out, or whatever else you could think of. Imagine reacting to something as if it was the first time you ever saw such a thing, as if you were back to being a child, not caring about oil, politics, psychopaths, cold pizza, whatever. Just imagine. Do you see what I mean? Continue reading
It was Basil’s turn to speak now.
They all turned towards him and waited silently. Nadia thought it was better to follow this order, Mick always had a terrible story about his dead brother, and she knew that, somehow, Basil reminded Mick of him. Besides, you should never end on a such a terrible note, that had been lesson 101 of the many classes she attended. She had noticed the way Mick always looked sideways at Basil; it was not malicious, not contemptuous like it usually is with the others. He often took the seat next to him and even waited for him to finish a sentence before interrupting. There was some sort of weird fascination going on, and Nadia quickly put that on the dead brother’s account. The circumstances of Leonard’s death remained mysterious and blurry, but its presence felt like a heavy burden on Mick’s shoulders, until the moments he entered the room and saw Basil. Continue reading
I stood there for a long while, my mind drifting off in a sort of psychological no man’s land that will always remain wordlessly imperceptible to me, until some noise drew me out. The coffin lid was still up and it was all about horizontal lines and dark shades of white. There wasn’t much sense in any thing, living or dead. That, and I stood still there, alone.
Words and sounds came in echo all around me, I was passive, they were active. Linguistics and semantics. I remembered sentences, quotes, was reminded some things that I had said. Awful things mostly – an eternal trick of the mind. Continue reading
Oh boy. You know what? Someone recently came to me and asked, “why in the world are you still doing that?”
Now, I must concur, it is a relatively broad question, and a tough one to answer at that. But it was mostly aiming at the fact that I keep on writing and sending out lines out right into the webspace. Why do I keep doing that? I have absolutely no idea, I just do.
But they also pointed out, and rightfully I think, that having a better (ie more regular) online presence would help. The truth is, I can’t write all day, every day. Even if I wished to, I couldn’t. That’s not the way my brain works. However, it was explained to me that having a social media for people to keep tabs on whatever it is that I’m doing, writing, thinking, could be a good idea. I’m not sure about that, and I’m not sure about how to manage it all. But life’s too short not to have a facebook page, right?
So why don’t you come on out and join me? Let’s be friends, foes, drinking buddies, whatever.
Find me at https://www.facebook.com/jerkwithwifi/
I don’t give a damn. That’s a rather specific statement you might be tempted to use for this or that, from time to time. Me, personally, I’d call it a general fact. That’s a thing, I don’t give a damn. About me, about you, about things in general. I can’t help it, I’ve tried to see things differently but, sadly, can’t say anything has worked up until now. Continue reading
“I’ve had a hard time sleeping these past few nights.”
“Is that why you’re acting so weird?”
“Actually, more than just these past few nights.”
“And actually, more erratic than weird.”
She stood up from her stool, drew it closer to him and sat again. There was an echo, but nothing in sight which could have caused it. Stranger things have been known to happen.
“What’s up?” she asked.
He sighed heavily, probably unsure as to what he should answer. The pause was of those moments you think will never end.
“I … I think I don’t even know. You know?”
“And here I was thinking you couldn’t get any weirder.”
“You don’t seem to know about compassion.”
“I think you ought to talk about empathy here. But nevermind. What do you mean, you don’t know?”
He sighed again, but differently. Can difference be similar? That was the sort of question floating about in his head; things like that had been torturing him his whole life. Until then; until now, he thought. Continue reading