"Behind every system, behind every rule stands a corpse and laughs. You can't tell me who I should sleep with. I don't work for wages. My life is a revolution... My life is a beautiful life... What you call freedom, I call waste... I will continue to love my own voice. If everyone becomes me, everything will collapse."

Bruno K. Ă–ijer

Friday, July 30, 2010

"This world is a Mistake"

Sleep is a mistake. A conspiracy put in you as there is no answers and dream as poisoning us. Giving hope... Seeking for answers in the blanc pages. Repeat. Space. Shift. Enter. Blackspace... Num Lock! Supreme memberships. Sharing is a curse of intellect connection. Look. Deeper. Privet space. Shared space. Honest space. Fragile space. Boundaries are made-up. Ex-something. Current. Swirls of the cotton in the air. Your chaos is a perfection... Push - pull. The sound of the past is mixed with a dream of tomorrow. Sensitivity to the light. Window shows changing pictures. Out side building roof advertising says: "HAVE FAITH IN GOD". This is not the end - no the beginning. In the middle! Thant means the crack between two cliffs. Wanna jump? And then, they talk about anger management, vitamins, safe sex, future of the children, nourishing skin creams. But what if, all there is, is anger. Watching mothers of the dead screaming in agony - anger. WE ARE THE ANGER! The one that is born and created lives with anger till he ends it. The golden thread has an expiration date.




Here. Where the left ones are eating their breakfast 4 hours too late. Where sidewalks are covered with my insomnia. Seeking a reason in every breath that was not taken. Said so many unnecessary quotes. Night are long. Days are chocking. Somewhere. Across oceans and landmarks. Miles, kilometers. Diagnosis. Swirling in the gray brain material. Put your self in the correct position on the self. Fog. The gelatin capsule erupts.... put it on hold. Leave us your contact number, your first mane and we will get back to you as soon as
possible. The sound of piano in deep minor. People change at the counter. Tables get cleaned. Dirty dishes. Circumstances. Look at the picture. Black car is approaching my innocence. Blow...


"it was the voice of someone who was waiting in the shadows
who was looking at the moon and waiting for me to turn the corner
and enter a narrow street
and stand with him in the dull glaze of moonlight
then he said to me
he whispered that my plan was misconceived
that my special plan for this world was a terrible mistake
because, he said, there is nothing to do and there is no where to go
there is nothing to be and there is no one to know
your plan is a mistake, he repeated
this world is a mistake, i replied"
Current 93




Days. Hours. Action. Step back. Time is running out. Dogs are barking. Visions are put up side down. I have seen a man made out of matches. Faces in the wallpaper. Avoid the poison - misunderstanding. Burning skin turned to ink. Ink turned to pattern. Pattern to a vision. No platforms for 3 weeks. Are you comfortable. Look at the time, it is almost 6 o'clock. Time for tea in glitter powder... Just remember - the dogs are watching! So put your self in line.



Good night,
Sonia Dietrich


Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Violence Solves Everything

Roll! Keep rolling. Keep looking. Keep smiling. Keep buying. Keep eating. Keep shitting. Keep moving. Keep fucking. Keep reproducting. Keep reading. Keep walking. Keep fighting. Keep hating. Keep hurting. Keep loving. Keep screaming. Keep wishing. Keep vomiting. Keep thinking! Keep breaking. Keep selling. Keep talking with your mouth full and head empty. Keep kissing asses of your authority. Keep pushing your self in to her, who never loved you. Keep wishing there is something more for you out there. Keep being ashamed of your self that you sold out your most intimate dreams. Keep sniffing. Keep waiting for the end. And I will wait for the moment, when the red button will be ready. The time is ticking. Are you listening? Just don't forget to chose the correct answer box.





You suggest I should forget about it. Never! Train is unsteady on the rails. An equivalent of thoughts in a rubber ball. Risk it. Live it. We all will look the same in the end. So what are you afraid off? The resistance is digging your self from under the earth. Dirt is tasty like victory. Shaped light bulbs and IKEA is teaching children how to invest in to future. How is it possible to hear ambulance sirens on the train. God bless the internet ad CCTV! All is dust. The counting begins with an intensity. Emptiness. Confess! What would be your weapon of choice? He said brothers and sisters. Proud and tall - a lair! A slave wearing a tie and crispy white shirt. No insides, no knowledge, no identity, no passion, no desire. Empty shells of foolishness.

And now, after a long train ride. After alarm clock at 4.45. After the smile in the morning. I sit in the same diner. Writing this "thing" and hoping that the flat on the 6 floor will not be all in glitter.




I remembered the times of nose candy and the empty peaceful experience you get from it. Like floating in the sea at night fall.
It is raining for a second week in the row. I want to lay on the ground listening to Jarboe and be swollen by the emptiness. "Ode to V". It feels as the air stopped moving. Like oxygen is made out of liquid gummy substance. Feels like in a movie. This old town is a papie mashe decoration. It seems that by pulling only one string you could see what really happens in side the gutter. I want to touch her hair. I don't know her. Who to blame this time that thing did not turned out as she wanted to. Kicking of the ground. The smell of skin changed. Watch the temptation. Fog out side the window is so think that it seems you could eat it. Head is switched. Sleep. One more cigarette. One more mistake.


Good Night and god bless,
Sonia Dietrich

Monday, July 5, 2010

He Burned The Path and Killed the Living


When was the last time you have fallen in love? No. Not with a person. With an object. Sharp, or round. Personal. Random. Impersonated. When was the last time you could not leave the house cause the need for the object swallowed you in. I had recently. I cant resist. To powerful. Hypnotizing. Hold it in. Play it. I sit on the ground near my camouflage sofa and imagine the game of two. Wanna play?

Game is easy, I sit you stand. Time runs fast. It' a long train. Tchaikovsky is playing in one ear. Annoying local lassies in the other. Fields of yellow, green and blue. Where is the line between pleasure and humiliation. There is no such thing. Somewhere. Silently. Grey again. Sing for me. Sing the sinful song of pleasure. Isolation. Slow pulsating rhythm in the headphones. Don't spill the coffee.

He tells me to get outside my zone. Convincing that thing are in places. I have a stack of book near 2 ashtrays. Table is covered with leftovers of inhales. He is alive again. Trust for the moment. And then the reasonable part of me stops. I go back again. The cave is easy. Easy to touch. To fill. To find. I have no more words left. It's consuming me. Made a cardinal sin. Mistakes. I talk about the things one should never say. Doing what jesus told me to. He made me do it. The perfect assassination. Come here and press the charges.



Once again the pages keep turning. You imbecile. What the fuck where you thinking. Stop. Stop. Tomorrow. Intake. Alcohol runs as holly water throw the veins. To much. To late. Go away. Don't worry about... my brain is on fire. Brain is empty. Needs are at risk. Boundaries are found. Deny your identity and play by the rules. Push it out your self and all will be happy. Happiness is such a waist of words. I seen them on the corner. The creaking sound made me flip the dime. Here, in the room with the high celling I say nothing and smile.

Another cigarette another blow. Told it tight. Imagine. Close. Just don't make it worse. It's good till it lasts. Smoke cloud. Forget the future. The past was never mine. Smoking in bed is like peace of used up heaven for the sinner man. Camouflage sheets swallowing mistakes. They touch gently and with off pride. I think i love them. Labyrinth of sounds out side windows. Ants are rushing to work. Illusions. I wish. Never did. Night fall. In the beginning there was sing, in the end there is an agreement. Violence solves everything.

I need to pack. My time is up. Everything is so beautiful and folded. He is perfect. Don't believe in perfection. Skip me. Braid me. Traffic on the streets remind me of what i do not have. The house. The bed. Shopping list and perfect polished shoes. He never used to call me by the name, now it's on the plate. I see the mirrors flip. I know when red cells separate from white ones. Again. Say it! Now! Near. Come on in. Freedom is a scam they used to trick and treat the guilty one. Easy. Listen. Looking at her strikes me, who is the one under the tragedy. What was I doing. Patters to the unknown solders and striking technique. Shut up. Never again. Here comes the Jabberwocky. Tired of not knowing when. But there is a point in eternity when it is better not to know what happens next. Reached. Point. Don't want to know. Mouth is full. Sing with me. Steps on creaking floors. Old houses. Full. Trains. Stops.

Manifestations of equilibrium.
So now. I entered. See it burst. Lights out. Go back to sleep.


Good Night and god bless,
Sonia Dietrich