I just got home from watching the theatre show, The Little Match Girl by The Tiger Lillies. I had the best seats ever, I could've held the microphones for them, I was that close.
It was something, that's for sure. It was great too. No, it was more then great. It was really something...
The story - should you not know - is about a little girl who sells matches, but one new years eve the cold gets too much for her, so she strikes and lights the few matches she have to keep her warm. The warmth from the matches gives her hallucinations of all sorts of wonderful things. Her dead grandmother, amongst other things. But the matches isn't enough and she ends up freezing to death out on the cold streets.
Knowing The Tiger Lillies, I didn't know what to expect, you never can with these guys. The show wasn't exactly what I had expected - the music was the good ol' sound of the tiger lillies - it was much more. It wasn't the crazy, funny, dark comedy they usually come up with, no, it was sad and I even heard a girl say after the show that it scared her a lot. The Tiger Lillies did a great job as always, but even they were matched by the two actors, the girl especially. She is a great actor - she's so much more then just an actor.
If you have the chance, go see the show, even if you don't normally like the Lillies. I don't think you'll be disappointed.
The world today is not an easy place for dreamers, believe me. I don't know about you, but being the silly dreamer that I am, I feel very lost in this frantic age. It's hard not to give in, follow the path that lays so straight on a head. I don't want to go straight, dammit! I want to take curves, loops, take wildcards, go nowhere! I can't possibly be the only one; the only one left, it would be absurd to think like that, but sometimes I can't help it,everyone around me seems to be on that straight path.
Whatever happened to spontaneity? Whatever happened to "having dreams"? Whatever happened to following them? What happened to love?
I think the majority of people when reaching a certain age lose that part of them, the dreaming part, maybe that's what "growing up" is. I don't know, it hasn't happened to me... yet. And that's my greatest fear, I suppose. Losing that part; face reality.
I'm tired. I'm tired of it all. All I want is pease, time and love. Is that so much to ask for? I guess it is. But I don't care, I want it anyway.
Sitting here in my lovely chair, the fairy in my hand and music in the air , everything seems so fucking idyllic. Maybe it's just the my green friend talking.
I found a house. I want that house. It's cheap! It's falling apart, but it's cheap! I've been looking at that housefor months, and now it's for sell. It's right smack down in the center of the city, but still very peaceful - well, it's right next to an old church and grave yard, which is another reason why I like it. Looking at it from the outside can really mess with your sense of balance, let's just say it's very uneven. It was built in 1877, which would explain it's state. I don't mind, it's state is what I find so appealing.
Dreams. Nothing, but silly dreams so far... but, who knows...
"What happened here? What's this I feel? A tree? But how; why?" Never had he heard of such a thing being possible, and certainly never thought it'd occur to him of all people.
It's the big things that's trivial, and the little things that's unique.
On top of the tree was a flower, the only flower on the tree. It had the darkestpurplecolor you've ever seen, in fact, such a color never existed before this flower sprung out on top of the tree.
You don't know what you have before it's gone, and by then, it's too late.
He had gone to bed the night before like he always did, nothing was different from any other night, except for the waking in the morning finding a tree.
The man didn't know what to do...
His life was a mess before the "event" occurred; his wife had just left him, they'd been married for less then a year. He lost his job too. Everything was crumbling beneath him, and he did nothing to stop it.There wasn't anything to do. He started drinking.
The busy bee has no time for sorrows.
Suddenly the tree started to grow even larger. He could feel it's roots hugging his brain; a feeling unlike any other. Leaves turned brown and feel off. Soon all the leaves were gone. Nothing, but the flower un the top was left.
Two hours later he was found dead. The tree sawed off at the root; at his scalp.
There's this girl that started working were I work. I can't say why, but I love her. I know nothing about her, absolutely nothing, I'm not even sure what her name is. I get these feelings about certain people I meet, an enhanced first impression sort of thing; a sixth sense if you will, nine out of ten times the impretion is correct.
I love her.
I've talked to her, a little, just small comments, nothing special. What I'd really like to tell her is, "Hello. I love you. Won't you tell me your name?", but it seems too strange a thing to do, she'd think I was mad - I am, but that's another subject.
I wished she'd work with me. You see I stand at a machine with another guy which I'm learning to operate the thing, she stands at an entirely different machine down in the other end of the hall. And she's not employded, she's just working as a "substitute worker" - she doesn't look like someone who'd work there either, which, I guess, is one of the reasons why I like her. Technically she could be gone on monday. I hope my boss will place her down with me and my machine, or atleast the machine next to mine, then I can talk to her without it being too out of place, just long enough to get to know her.
It's not that I love her in a "please be the mother of my child" kinda way - not that I want chirldren, certainly not now - but she's just my kind of person, but how I know nothing about her, she could be - God forbid - religious. The fact is I don't know, I just know I love her.
She's so cute, it's unnormal.
Strange... now I can't wait to go to work, something I thought would never happen...
You'd think things get easier when they turn into routine. They don't.
I don't know if I'm just abnormal, but if I don't love what I'm doing, and I mean really love, then it just doesn't seem worthy of my attention for that long a time. Obviously I continue doing it, I need the money to go one living, but why can't I just do what I love and go one living?
That's how it's been since I started this new job. I want to entertain, play my violin, juggle and do various other things. So what's holding me back then? Fear of failure, I suppose.
I really shouldn't be complaining, I'm doing very well apart from the above. I got plenty of money; I plan on traveling soon; See Cirque du Soleil (yes, that's high on the list). I'm doing very well, yes. So I keep telling myself...
I've been reading a lot lately. Haruki Murakami is amazing for lack of better words - words can't begin to comprehend how amazing he is, except maybe his own words. Read "Sleep" and wow! The pictures that man can create in my head with his words are truely - here we go again - amazing.
Speaking of "amazing". I just got my two Cirque du Soleil DVD's. I got home from work and there they were, laying on the kitchen table in a brown letter-shaped bubble rapped box.
I first saw Quidam as a kid in TV, I must've ten or something, and I was breathtaken. The music, the artist, the whole was just... amazing.
And now, last night, I saw it for the second time, Quidam and Varekai - which unbelievable beautiful, also. It was like finding a treasure from your childhood, a treasure you thought was long gone. I loved every second of it, just thinking of it makes me want to see it again.
The day I see Cirque du Soleil live, will be the day I'll see again.
I kinda liked being "nothing," but when everybody has this obsession with money it's kinda hard not to tag along. Not that I actually did it by my own will, nah, the government would so like me to sort empty bottles, - that's my new job - fun huh?
Today I decided to go on a little trip to the almighty town that is Horsens. Trip might not be the word to describe it as I can walk from where I live and be in the center of Horsens in less than an hour. Anywho, I was on my "trip" - yes I am/was - and I wandered around and suddenly there I was there, where I've been a hundred other times, yet it was different, maybe I hadn't been there since that time, yes, maybe that's it. But there I was wandering down the most beautiful old alley and it was then, there, and here, I stopped and said outloud to myself - I do that some times, ok I do it a lot - "this is it, this is where "Le Chat Verte" will be placed."
"Le Chat Verte" is a dream, no, a vision - sounds much better - of mine. It's a Cafè, a hideout from the busy world, a place to unwind, read a book, a bohemian-goth-circus-gypsy-belle epoque cafè, a place for all the weirdoes. Not only that, but I will start the first and for now only distribution of quality absinthe in Denmark.
It's built in my head, everything is sorted out, well almost everything, I need - that's right - money! Once again money is an issue. God I hate 'em, not that I don't love 'em either.
I was reading a book and it moved. Maybe you should take your medication then shit won't move, and if you don't take any medication, maybe now would be a good time to start! Of course I know it's not possible, but why really? Why isn't it possible? If I have to be logical it was probably just because I was reading - focused on the words - and just "imagined" it. A reflection or something created (enhanced) the illusion that it moved.
WARSAW, Poland -- Zdzislaw Beksinski, a leading Polish surrealist painter known for his images of death, was found stabbed to death at his Warsaw home on Tuesday, police said.
Relatives found Beksinski's body overnight, and "everything indicates it was murder," police spokeswoman Zuzanna Talar said. He suffered multiple stab wounds, and police said there were no signs of forced entry or robbery.
Beksinski, 75, was considered one of Poland's leading contemporary artists. He emerged on the Polish art scene in the 1950s and was best known for his abstract renditions of skeletons, monster-like creatures and other apocalyptic images evoking death and decay.
"We all see death before our eyes," Beksinski said at the opening of an exhibition of his work at Warsaw's Zacheta Gallery in 2002, the news agency PAP reported. "I am not an exception."
"Personally, I am more afraid of dying than death itself. This is not a fear of emptiness but of suffering -- and this is what I am most afraid of."
I mean really snowing. It was a struggle against the element to get down to the bus, hell, just getting around was a pain. Calling it "a struggle" might be stretching it, but still: There's alot'a snow out there. They say more is on it's way.
It's not that I don't like snow, it just makes everything more difficult. To be honest that's probably what I like about it too. Strange...
I walked around in a supermarket for awhile trying to spot the shop-detectives. It's something me and my friends used to do when we were kids. Great times. I succeed, of course. It's not very hard, though, just keep your eyes out for the middleaged man or woman walking around putting their merchandise back on the shelves. And if you want to boost up things - not always a good idea - you could always pretent to steal stuff. This can actually also earn you some money if you play your cards right. You see, if they ask you to come along, then don't object, just go with them. Sure it's embarrassing, but the longer they hold you back - they don't have the right to go through your pockets, only the police have - the more money you're entitled to by law (atleast in Denmark). It's a fair bit too, not just a little pocket money no, no, but don't expect to become rich in this way either.
While in there, I felt the need to buy something, just something. A book, a movie, something. So I endeed up buying a cheap set of four old samurai movies, one of which I already have seen and liked. Forgot the title.
Still snowing hard. I'll probably have to go back out in the cold and shovel snow. Damn!
Slowly, slower then anything I've ever experienced before, I approached it.
Oh, to think of the many times I've done this, but failed; even if I had ten hands I couldn't count it on my fingers. And now, here I am trying again. It seems as though I'm doomed to fail, but then why, oh why, do I persist with this, my unrealistic goal. It's my destiny, it most, no, it has to be.
I'm closing in now; farther then I've ever been before. Could this be it, could my destiny finally be fulfilled. What if this is it, then what? What will become of me. What purpose would I serve.
Quickly, quicker then anything I've ever experienced before, I give in and is repelled like opposite poles meeting...
What is new? What is old? What is now? And what is this?
"Tomorrow" I say, "tomorrow I'll reach it... again."
Am I "lost"? ... I don't think so. I don't feel "lost" at all...
Then why do I ask? Not to mention, why the fuck do I make it blue? Do I have some sorta problem that could be the course of my feeling "lost"? No. Not really. I'm fine, I'm happy, really. I'm still unemployed, but fuck, I have been for a while now... I might as well face it: I won't figure it out, I'm not gonna.
I had that dream last night; I've had that dream a million times, it seems; it's horrible. What could it mean? I believe that dreams are the subconscious mind trying process everything "it" has experienced - everything I've experienced.
It starts like this: I'm working at a theatre; all the actors are running around getting ready to get on stage. Here's the strange part: All the actors are people I know or have known, particularly one of them catches my eye. He's dressed up as Guido, and believe me the real life him would never agree to get in a Guido costume. The show is over everybody's on their way home; a girl, I had a semi-crush on at school, comes running towards me, she kisses and hugs me. We walk a little, and she asks me to go do something for her - I forgot what it was. Then we reach a ditch filled with garbage, broken glass and scrap metal. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she jumps down in the ditch, picks a razorblade and cuts her throat, all happening in extreme slowmotion while she screams curse words at me. I'm just standing there frozen...
I dream in colors...
I've had that dream before, the exact dream, just with a different girl, I care about, I love, at the end. . . .
As the title says: It's election day, and there's not a single ounce of doubt who I'm going to vote on. If this new party hadn't been there for me to vote on, then I wouldn't know who to vote on, I might not even vote at all. But they're not, they're there. Minoritetspartiet, that's who I'm gonna vote on. They're humanists, like myself, they believe in the welfare of humans, regardless of their skin color. Sadly I doubt they'll get in, they won't get enough votes, no body knows them, if the voters just took the fuckin' time to sit down and read about them, get to know the party, but no, "I don't know who they are, I won't vote on them." I hope they'll get in one day, if not this time, maybe next time, or next time again...
I went to the movies with an ol' buddy I hadn't seen for months last night. We saw Ladder 49, not a bad movie. Though it would have been a more pleasant experience if I wasn't seated next to a smelly guy who released body gass three times during the movie. Not loud farts, no it was those hidden farts, covered with a cough. It smelled like a dead, rotten cat, sprayed with deodorant in a desperate attempt to cover the smell, yet that only makes it worse. I always end up next to that guy.
But now it's sunday afternoon and the sun is unusually bright.
Kids are running around going door to door in costumes singing songs in exchange for candy, sorta' like Halloween. Only next they all gather up somewhere to beat a barrel filled with candy with the sticks untill it breaks. Back in the ol' days, a cat was put in the barrel instead of candy, why I don't know, and then kids would beat the barrel and eventually kill the cat, in Germany they buried the cat alive. I'm trying to imagine how it would've looked like. Fastelavn (the name of this event), strange huh?
A cloud covered the sun... No wait, it's back now.
I figured I should start writing something here, but what should I write when I don't have anything to write? Furthermore, why do I try to write when there's nothing to write? That I can't answer, if I said otherwise I would be lying. Anyway here I am writing nothing, basically. Fun.
I just got hold of some books, that I've been waiting for ages to arrive at the local book store. Among them were Haruki Marukami's The Wild Sheepchase, which I'm now in the midst of reading. It's a wonderful book, I've already read it before, but I decided that it was an experience worth repeating before starting on Dance, Dance, Dance.
And so I end my first contribution to my blog. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go have a glass of absinthe.