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? 

*HAVE A CHEESEBURGER*

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.

*HAVE A COKE*

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!

-right-

I mean...

YEAH RIGHT!

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. 

*HAVE A BIEBER*

edited on 2011.12.29

bloody color mess

It's 3.43AM

I'm painting.

Foolishly.

..

damn

I had a nightmare cause of you.
I'm gonna kick your ass if you gonna do this again.
I felt like a monkey in zoo.
So next time you gonna bring along someone just to startle me I'm gonna walk away, you know I can.

Copper Flyer

Yet another monolith of a day,

Cooling down in a hiss of the streets,

Steam haze,

Lone song of a day.

mixed feelings

I had  mixed feelings waiting for elevator.

Even today.

time space and confusion

the happening.

Wednesday July 27, time 4.31PM

Waiting for elevator on the ground floor of the block xxx, with three other persons.

A Chinese middle aged man and a Malay couple.

Elevator landing after about 50 seconds. all of us entering the elevator, doors closing, three buttons on the command panel are lit, 3,11, and pressed by me 22.

I'm observing them from behind speculating who's getting off first (didn't notice them pressing buttons and I had nothing better to think of).

Malay couple is leaving elevator on the 3rd floor (god damn a super young couple they could just walk upstairs!).

The rest is obvious. Or is it.

Man leaves the elevator at the 11th floor, I'm reading from behind his back <<11th FLOOR >> he walks then on the right, door closing and elevator smoothly lifting me to the 22nd...

Doors opening, strangely no voice is announcing the floor number - unnoticed by then, doors closing elevator goes up.

I'm walking, turning on left to...see unknown door, confused I'm turning back to read the board... <<11th FLOOR>>!!! ... some elderly woman pushing a yakult trolley giving me that typical stare, you'd expect from locals on your package holidays.

I'm confused and probably hell pale looking, watching "my" elevator's display showing 20 then 21 then 22nd floor and stops, my floor.

Again I called elevator, another comes after I guess 15-20 seconds, this time from the 25th. Strong smell of durian inside - nothing new, I'm pressing the button 22, doors closing and after few seconds - pretty much same amount of time like before (from 11th to..11th), floor 22 announces speaker, I'm out, its 22nd.

I'm opening door to the apt, shaky still but more 'cause of an anger mixed up with confusion, walking to my room. Computer clock and my phone shows 5.43PM.

That's it, no blackouts, no strange feeling, no flashing lights, memory flashes or disturbing sounds or deja vu, nothing  everything perfectly timed...

A minute or two long "trip" on the 22nd floor that lasted for over an hour. With two stops on the two 11th floors O.o in the same time intervals.

I was trying all logical explanations everything fails, can't even find any supernatural excuse, alien involvement etc I'm confused.

Again just to convince myself that I'm not insane...:

1. Ground floor, time 4:31PM (remember because checked my phone) a couple a man and me entering elevator.
2. Three buttons lit, 3rd floor, 11th and 22nd.
3. Elevator stops on third, couple leaves
4. Elevator then stops on 11th, man leaves, just in front of the floor signboard, that shows floor 11.
5. Door closing and I'm traveling up again, 11 floors later supposed to be 22nd, so I'm leaving, routine, what else.=_="
6. Approaching a door just to realize I am on the 11th floor AGAIN
7. Almost running back to the elevator watching it leaving for a 22nd floor then stopping.
8. Calling another elevator
9. After few seconds of waiting another elevator arrives from 25th
10. Short trip up and few seconds later I'm in front of my door on the 22nd floor
11. I'm in the flat, the time is 5.43PM

To me this whole trip lasted as long as it should, with accidental stop on the "secret second 11th floor"anyways couple of minutes like literary, 2-3 minutes maybe. For sure not over damned 70 minutes!!

Am I still in the same world or jumped into some parallel universe?!

...these new elevators eh...

And yes there's only ONE 11th floor in this block.

Shit, not funny, this is scary. For real.

For you Closer

This probably won't make you feel better, nor worse.
But when you say trust no one this should make you closer.

GOOD.

Flipped the "pages" of my blog.

Sadness, fears, confusion, LOADS of strange and unnecessary feelings.

Time to change.

I'm a good guy for god's sakes, a cheerful good dude.

But when I read all this...

:)

I'll never make it in time...

This is why, sometimes is better to soak in sounds.

Beirut- East Harlem

Me

I forgot who I am.

Angel, dealing with "happy" or "I'm coming, wait." (edited re-post of "To my luck and happiness")

"The more you deny the bigger suffering and no earth no heavens will help. Because torturing won't make you better, won't make you worse.

Stop repetitions of this celebration of rejections, of "no's" and denials.

You don't have to, because I know, I know and I'm not trying to change anything."

                                                                                           (me)

Fury of screen bright colors dancing in the light cones, all around me.

Why can't I breathe. 

Sounds of the street. 

People I swim between in some frantic but swift slalom, they blink and twinkle, unaware.

Their voices that merely audible and so alien that my brain melts them into shapes and scents because it's the only way to comprehend.

Escalator, tap the card, now front crawl, fast to surface, I'm out, I still can't breathe.

I'm not unhappy. "I'mnotunhappy","I'mnotunhappy","I'mnotunhappy","I'mnotunhappy".

All i see now is their feet, heels, buttocks' sway. 

Trying to turn my head, I see kicked plastic cup rolling on left swerving dangerously on the right side of the curb, patterns...

Rushing up now, because there is little time, 
I'm gonna be late again.
White feathers and sweat droplets.
I can't breathe.

Only the angel that follows me has a big black wings, pale white face with a pair of pitch black eyes staring at the world from behind of my shoulders.

Peacefully. Steadily and firm.

This angel has no mouth to speak, this angel feels only and in feelings is buried its heart like in ashes of this what was before. I, mistaken, tried to carve mouth on its face to make it speak to me. There was nothing but anger in return and it rained back with myriads of droplets of silence and no tears. I failed. 

Now angel follows me whenever I go, it follows my emotions and my confused subconsciousness. But its ambivalent to everything what happens to me, to whatever I feel and anything I do, it is there for own reasons, reasons I don't want to understand. This angel don't want to be mine either, its there because it want to BE. 

It won't go away even after me, with the same lack of smile or scorn on its face. 
Like mime inside the invisible cage.

I jumped in the river and what did I see?

Black-eyed angels swam with me

A moon full of stars and astral cars

All the things I used to see

All my lovers were there with me

All my past and futures

And we all went to heaven in a little row boat

There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt

                                              (radiohead "Pyramid song")

I can.

I'm working on it.

It will take some time yet.

I will finish it, even if later, I'll call this "Papples and T(h)ree"

I will work hard.
I will create.
I will create way more.
I will buy laptop.
I will buy a professional camera.
I'll take all what's mine.
I will be giving back.

I won't be unhappy.

I will share some love.

I promise I will sell.

I will share.
I won't be falling sick.
I will stay in touch with friends and family.
I'll be weird.
I'll work out.
I'll be more sensitive.
I'll be angry less often.
I'll be me.

This is not a bucket list.

This is called COMEBACK.

Seven drafts "in writing".

I'll rest now.

I feel alone.

Micro thing.

There are like oceans of awesome people around me. Beautiful people. Sexy people. Handsome people. Interesting people. Rich and successful people. Hyper intelligent people. Fragile people. Strong people. Ferrari driving people. Lamborghini driving people. BMW people. Private jet owner people. Having completely nothing people. Loved people. Desired people. Adored people. Hated people. Con artists people. Super Average people. Famous people. Infamous people. "Blogger" people. Traders. Actors. Sportsmen. Artists. Novelists. Pilots. Firefighters. Sexy models. Adrenaline junkies. Complex femme fatale. And even Britney Spears and Prime Ministers.

And I am such a micro thing.

This week even nano-thing, that's why now I am scared of wind.

The New

I bought a pretty big canvas (yeah I'm too lazy to stretch canvas on my own),

a set of brand new acrylics and set of pretty expensive brushes. 

I'm going to paint again.

The new one.

Japan

I don't really know what to say. 

I don't want to dive into cliche. 

I can't pray, so I wont' say "(...) my prayers are...".

I'm only sorry, terrified, disturbed.

I wish this never happened.

We are so fragile.

I like.

I LIKE UNDERWATER MYSTERIES.

FEEL FREE TO CLICK.

http://www.grahamhancock.com/gallery/underwater/yonaguni.htm

(gallery with underwater photos of structures off the coast of Jima, Yonaguni)

...

(...) this is more than silly to use bypass just to check my blog.

I don't have 'ny readers in Russia. For real.

No-Fly Zone

"...because you know lately I'm not really being me. I'm happy. Actually it is kind of complex, I am but...I am also scared of this. You see, everything is just ..strangely...good. I've nothing to fear because nothing left to fear and now I'm shocked by this "all's good", yet this "all's good" is really good. It's like first time in my life EVERYTHING is good. But don't get me wrong, is not as in I'm overly happy yet this happiness is almost brutally obvious, but it isn't state of euphoria like "OMG! OH NO I CAN'T BELIEVE! THIS IS UNREAL." but this happiness just got me unprepared, I'm not sure what next and what to do with all this neatly combed, divided on equally righteous parts, plain bright and glowing elements of every day and this ..this state of "Nothing To Worry All Is Good And All Is Good For Real And With Every Minute Is Even Better, because you know, I don't really know what to do with this, and how am I supposed to live happily, like I ever knew how to, like what like being happy? Just like that? So you know 'cause of this I'm slightly disturbed and sad...so yeah, crappy yeah. Just like that No-Fly Zone thingy, spooky OMG. "