coziness.

can you remember what I was like.
I hardly can.
a floaty scene of fresh colours and a will.
it's all blurred now.

used to write. not a whole lot but some.
used to like it, used to be happy with the result,
even if I was the only one, but I alone knew what I meant
with every word. and kept it to myself mostly.


used to dream about the world. and places. about situations.
about people I was to meet. meet, love, laugh with, cry, be
disappointed by, learn, meet others. gain people for life.
not "friends" . people. for life.
I can explain the term but I dont want to.

used to think I was best on my own, had room to think
and feel and do what I wanted.

I know nobody has forced any different upon me,
but I can't help but feeling that in the middle of all
the good things, a sleepy fog came to live in my life some
time around then.

plans and dreams... seem to float further away.
slowly.
you know when the boat drifted just far enough that you can
no longer reach it.
I don't want the boat to drift that far.

I don't know why but I'm sure a well educated person could
tell me the answer. I'm not too interested at the moment though.
why, such issues with independence and... dependence decide to
force their aquintence on me.
when it gets too real and things are locked or decided it all
locks around my wrists and clings onto me and holds me down.
and panic. usually. oh the infamous panic.
hah.

sleep lets my mind escape and does everything it isn't
allowed to. it jumps off roof tops, crashes parties.
all you bitches throw your hands in the air and wave 'em like you
just dont care.

every sense just betrays what my conscience promised and wants(?)
that's what I thought. that's what I remembered I said I wanted.
that's what I remembered I wanted.

my eyes look at what they shouldn't.
my mouth tastes what it said it wouldn't.
my ears love the sound of all things that are no longer there.
my hands reach for what will burn,
and I smile at the smell of what I gave away to forget.


I guess it's pretty simple.
either stick to it and see what happens when you choose
not to run.
or do just that and remain the same old moi.

cheers.

Vi är den vulgära generationen. Vi är extremister, apatister, egoister. Vi tar inte ansvar för våra beteenden. Vi bryr oss inte om andras. Vi läser allt men vi förstår ingenting. Vi är tunnelseende, inseende, utseende. Vi är barnen som aldrig fick vara barn. Vi är de vuxna som vägrar vara vuxna. Vi har alla rättigheter. Vi har inga skyldigheter. Vi har inga ideologier, inga filosifier och helst inga åsikter. Vi ser dit näsan räcker, går dit bilen står, super när vi kan. Vi är ögontjänare, otrotjänare, personliga tränare. Vi är glasbiten som punkterar ditt hjul. Vi är spyan som befläckar ditt trapphus. Vi är snabbmatsskräpet, obekymrade, tre meter ifrån papperskorgen. Vi är alltid "någon annan". Vi är bara vi när det lönar sig. Vi är impulsiva, presumptiva, vegetativa. Vi har aldrig gjort fel. Det är inte vårt fel, det är ert fel. Någon annans fel. Vi är merkantila, infantila, intifada. Vi är postmoderna, vi är tidlösa, vi är dada. Vi hatar igår, vi älskar idag och vi är ambivalenta om imorgon. Vi är yta, vi är ha, vi är ta.

Vi är den vulgära generationen. Det skiter vi i.

av Skalman.

died.

you never had a slinky?
- we had part of a slinky. but i straightened it.

kate kirkwood.

i know it isn't funny to people EXCLUDED from the horse world.
i know.
. know.
maybe it's just not funny at all to anyone but me.
but i dont careee. /hairflip.
I'm working at a rly nice stable. But I have a cold. = I feel like dying.
not like I -am- dying, but like i wanna. like that.
woah oh oh.

i dont rant here. but this is a rant.

I try to understand that people come from different places and have different ways of thinking
and being. But I really can't do with people who stay cowards their whole lives, who never step
out of their tiny bubble made up of what they alone think the world is all about.
People who, from fear really, rather look a person up and down, tilt their head up and walk away
before hearing one word come out of the person's mouth. They already have a solid opinion about a person without really knowing anything about them except what they like to wear or look like.
I mean, you don't know where that person's coming from, what he or she thinks or feels or means to say with that hair dyed in red, black, green and blue. Really, you don't, so stop thinking you do.
It's just so extremely frustrating with people who just categorize people because of their own ignorance and being unsure how to deal with people who don't look familiar. I think it's pathetic and one of the most cowardly things ever.
It's a fear basically, I get that, but it's one worth overcoming, because you would win so much more from this world if you tried to be brave enough to take in all it's messages in different colours, shapes and sizes, contradicting as they all may be. And you can't do that if you don't give people a chance to show themselves before you set your judgement down.
It's so sad and the root of so much unnecessary harm.

midnight home.

pic.

Back home at midnight.
That is my home.
Available in my mind only.
They have parties with balloons and talking animals, talking about the sky turning,
walking in a haze, small laughs lurking in the corner of your eye.