I was siting in bed eating hot porridge watching cold wind, that came from an open window dancing for me. The 7th of January. Tracey Emin's book was in my lap. It's the 3rd sunny day in a row, finely the weather forecast was honest and did some justice for us - light seekers. So tired and bended after the seasonal mishmash of friers, booze, drugs, and family dinners. Traveling and work plans, setting year goals for the so parsed year 2012. Loose some weight, eat healthy, don't get hight so oftener, be nice to people, stay true to your self and fight for the things you believe in. DO NOT BACK DOWN! ART! ART! A + R + T my secret code!
And then…Strange, my fingers are not yet used to type this number, I always get confused. and type something like 1202. Sun keeps distracting me. I left one last chapter of "STRANGELAND" to keep me company while the sun hides again. Don't want it to end, neither the sun, neither Tracey. Her words and my thought are made from same soil.
And then it strikes me, the recollections form London and the feel it all left inside my mouth. The taste. The smell of the polluted air. I can see how people get lost in cities like that. It's a dangerous place to be, if you are not quite there. Yet. Ever.
I scrambled these little notes in note pads, cigaret packs, and self messaged them to myself. Just not to forget. Then I remembered that I still have one more story from the wonderful and cold Berlin. I am either lazy, or it's just not the right time for it… the baby is still unborn.
From London High Ways
This is so gay, that is so lesbian. oh and it is so bisexual. Push the triple X on XXX. She sing "Fuck the pain away" I decided to fuck my brain away. Fuck the body away. Fuck the body, give birth to the mind and then fuck the infant. Fuck became sexless. Genderless. Speechless. Timeless. Roses are red and violets are blue, world is full of hatred but i still love you? Fuck you, consume you?
* * *
On the bus three was woman crying, she was talking to her family, then her kid was on the phone. The child was telling how he missed her, and told about his day. woman silently cried not releasing a single sound, her tears where whipped off with a pink tissue. Bus was empty. Bus terminated here, she left the tissue on her seat.
World is full of sadness, I embrace you?
* * *
London is full of pretenses, glitter and luminous trees. Gardens and street corners with golden displays. Under which steal animals, the shopping carriages live with their homeless owners. We walk around in circles, we change bus after bus, end up in the parsons green district, counsel houses 2/4. Plane after plane dreamers leave this earth. World is full of hunger, I dissect you?
* * *
London is genderless, but up tight and judgmental? Maybe. Homophobic flat mates and clueless embraces. Who are you under the pink? Too much pride in wrong places. This is a true act of apocalypse. When suddenly gay curious is the new black. Having no respect and actual realization why. The stupidity. It seems some people are still living in the 19th century. Why not burn it all down then. World is full of stupidety, I respect you?
* * *
* * *
I still have much more pictures I want to show you. But sadly it takes a while for 35mm film. But as I promised, I will. All that I promised, I really will.
Good night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder