Thursday, August 14, 2014


Watching pathetic reruns of Friends, sipping tequila I feel seconds of countdown to the end. Alone. Peaceful. Hopeless.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

No human.

I'm feeling lonely.
Terribly lonely, like never before.


Sunday, April 20, 2014


Ruined. This time I can almost physically feel it is a bad omen. I feel completely uprooted and cast into pit with dirt and the recycled boxes with the imitation of life inside.

"Easter is meant to be a symbol of hope, renewal, and new life."

Thursday, July 11, 2013

A wish.

Maybe tonight is the night, the night I won't wake up.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

皆 会いたい人がいる 皆 待っている人がいる 
会いたい人がいるのなら それを待っている人がいる 

Tuesday, January 1, 2013


Happy new year you crazy world!

Monday, December 31, 2012

make me drunk.(fish)


To fly
to be high
to see more
to feel unconditionally
to moan


Thursday, November 29, 2012

No more.

no more feeds
no more "anonymous" comments
No more randomness
I can start all over.

Monday, November 19, 2012

let me feel...


Saturday, May 26, 2012


There's a shadow just behind me,
Shrouding every step I take,
Making every promise empty,
Pointing every finger at me.
Waiting like a stalking butler
Who upon the finger rests.
Murder now the path called "must we"
Just before the son has come.
Jesus, won't you fucking whistle
Something but the past and done? 
Why can't we not be sober?
I just want to start this over.
Why can't we drink forever.
I just want to start things over. 
I am just a worthless liar.
I am just an imbecile.
I will only complicate you.
Trust in me and fall as well.
I will find a center in you.
I will chew it up and leave,
I will work to elevate you
Just enough to bring you down. 
Trust me. 
Mother Mary won't you whisper
Something but what's past and done. 
Trust me. 
I want what I want.

"Sober" as written by Maynard James/Jones Keenan
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing

Wednesday, May 2, 2012


I'm here.
Nothing happened, just a consequence of being me living my life in half way.
Absolutely lonely. Loneliest.
Totally alienated, left thrown bounced off the wall rolled into dark dusty corner stripped off everything and every meaning.
Boxed in, soundproofed, never understood never misunderstood never invited either uninvited.
Broken damaged dried out mummified scratched extracted fractured balded "imbeciled" deranged unskilled emptied blinded obvious unhappiness.

Bottomless bottom collapsed under my feet. 

It's the end of the ends.
I'm flying in spiral dive into merely seconds of this what left.

(Nothing left.)

Because I'm nothing more than me and me is nothing. No one is me and me is no one.
I'm here yet for a while, I will smile. Laugh. 
I already laugh inside. This laugh makes me sad and more unhappy. 
I know this laugh will explode imploding every little bit of nothingness of me and my life.

A real laugh - the laugh, the only certain physical physiological certainty of this what left of me.


Thursday, December 29, 2011

Plastic Holden Caulfield

Is our civilization over for real? Or is it just a waste of time trying to analyze. 
I yearn for my "parallel lives" I used to live, in the time when Catcher in The Rye was just a school lecture, telling a story 'bout some ancient happenings and some kid who was more naive and retarded than us and no one really liked it oh well maybe a bit, 'cause well, hmmmph sex scenes and hookers that was really a "wow" stuffs indeed.

(...)Then we were blasted out with all this... everything, a "higher education" (laughs), drunk parties (boys on left , girls on right) lasting as long as 4 days non-stop till our 18th birthdays and one day longer, "rebellious" music, falling in love, cult movies-watching, anarchy in novels, ciggies, wine and ganja and long discussions about a Girl Who Had Sex and Life and God and Universe. All of which was just one of my parallel lives and no one ever knew.
I was like 101 years old, stuffed in frames of a teenager with angst.
But my dear literature teacher, calling me Holden Caulfield was an insult, simply, and i won't forget and I didn't forget till now.
I had a "space" to unfold, my never ending parallelism of life, I could hide in my dark places where no one dares to go, I had a spacious hideout to be a "rock star" and super sportsman - a winner, to live my poisonous life in messed up tragic family, my home-runs for cover and my escapes from everything, my crimes and sins, my lies and punishments, my broken heart and fears, for my homecoming delayed by ridiculous attempts of getting sober, throwing up milk mixed with bourbon - because they said it will help, my cheering face for ones and serious angry look for others, my criminal friends and my polite and my plastic friends. Junkies and hookers, religious freaks and mama's boys and papa's girls. I was loved I was hated, I was invisible and well noticeable.
I was well occupied with all this what around me. I was part of this puzzle called life with all its colors and crap on tv.
And now.
Now there's no space for anything, now we live in mono-cultural universe of kitsch. We are well boxed and packed up in different colors of the same shade, wrapped without a ribbon, ready and to go.
There are no values to break anymore, nothing left. And it won't help at all if I hide in the wardrobe to wait "till its gone". iPhoneized society of plastic recyclable bags of nothing.
Don't you think it's funny when your revolt starts on NOT HAVING an iPad or iPhone? 


Yes, I'd like to just hold your hand for a while, just to take a deep breath and create "zone" filled with alive things, feelings, even for a seconds. Just to see only your eyes, to hide from all of this inside you. to die happily for a bit and be back reborn stronger to survive all of it.


Grosses me out when I'm being bombarded by stuff like Jason Bieber and his "songs' framed into video-clips of a pedophile dream, confuses totally - seeing people lined up for an iPad a gizmo meant for nothing, doing nothing but earning hard cash for Apple Inc, don't you wanna have one? It has such a fanciful interface and colors and things are so oh so pretty when touched or moved. I'm touched and moved.
...and I thought hysterical whore of a man named Chris Crocker, that's already The Very Peak of a plastic hell, and EMO kids with their  "emotional themselves" specially when eye liner gets into the eye or no one really noticing them in the crowd of other EMO kids with emotions circling around color black and screaming emo-pop vocalists that tells a story about a boy and girl and how they are unhappy with themselves and their parents and that world will end because they are too black-dressed to do a home "WRK" and noonelovesthematallandtheyarallelonely :((.

So you say "not true, we are diverse, in whole diversity of our times"... "We girls like shopping", "we boys like fast cars", got no money, got money got no luck, love is non existent and overrated, braces are cool and lanky boys are trendy, touch screen, MLM, windows mobile, MAC-art, Popsicle, global warming, hunger in Africa, environmentalists, rebellious youth, political democracy and war on terror... have brick, will travel!
I mean...

I hate the fact I was so wrong. I so believed internet will help us to see and understand to explore and break through tons of crap folded by PR specialists and mass media. Now seem it's got internet too. 
Internet or now should I say a "social media". What will happen with our "communities", social circles without electricity? Just one serious solar flare X class. And kaboom! 

Years of learning to go...of how to communicate again. Can you handle it?

Why do THEY want us to be nothing much but brainless flock of confused ants, even ants live for a purpose, so what is a purpose of all this?..and who are THEY!? For real. 
And for real...what, and I mean it, what, ultimately, does it mean to be human?

It's over people. We don't need no doomsday of 2012, world is already over. 


edited on 2011.12.29