|
|
|
June 23rd, 2009
11:32 pm - note to self
Life is apt to sucking. Don't let that catch you by surprise. You don't need extra proof, you really don't.
|
January 19th, 2009
12:45 am
I'm The Ultimate Maker of Mistakes. Every time things start to look up, every time I find someone who understands me (or tries to, which is more than half the job), I go ahead and schrew it all up. It's like I'm wound-up and can't stop myself until I've said all the crap I've wanted to say. And once I'm done it all comes into perfect perspective and I see that the problem is entirely mine and not that of the other person and.... round the ferris wheel we go with the "sorry" speech again. And the "sorry" speech is the sorriest speech ever. And I can't help but wonder - am I really that slow as to have to make mistakes constantly and apologize constantly; can't I just get the apologetic spree before the actual mistake is made and skip the whole "I hurt you-you hurt me" game?
I'm so sick of realizing I'm making a mistake just a second after the moment when it is still not too late to undo it.
|
February 22nd, 2008
07:13 pm
Той се е скрил от всички в улицата. Чудя се какъв е бил. С тих глас разказва за живота на другите, никога не говори за себе си. За онези други, които никога няма да дръзнат сами да разкажат, които малко по малко се губят в него – заменили една интимност с друга.. Може би е бил зидар, изваят нежната мрежа от стоманени цветя, която пази нечий дом от другите; или е подредил малките павета, които ме викат, когато стъпвам по тях. Може би е бил техник и сам е опънал кабелите-стуни, на които сега свири. Но днес е без тяло. Танцува в сенките, но не можеш да го видиш. Щом отвърнеш погледа си, той скрива сянката си, като свенливата усмивка на момиче. И бяга да играе с котките. Те са негови, дивите бездомни котки – той ги гледа и храни. Вечер рисува по небето. Със синьо, с розово, с лилаво... твори и променя, коригира цветовете, докато не изтече търпението му. Тогава залива платното с черна боя. Тя тежи над нас и капе, разливайки сенки из улиците. Капе и върху мен, направо в душата, без видими следи. Формира скрити места, където да се крият котките, малки палави мисли; хладнокръвни убийци.
|
November 10th, 2007
06:28 pm - Tuve Jansson
Иногда били часы, звенел будильник, и это утешало Муми-тролля. Но
он не мог забыть самое ужасное -- то, что больше не желало всходить
солнце. И правда: день за днем каждое утро брезжил какой-то серенький
рассвет, который переходил мало-помалу в длинную зимнюю ночь.
А солнце так и не всходило. Оно где-то потерялось, может, оно
унеслось в космос. В самом начале Мумитролль отказывался в это верить.
Он долго ждал, не покажется ли солнце вновь.
Каждый день он спускался к морскому берегу и садился в ожидании,
повернув мордочку на восток. Но ничего так и не случалось. Тогда он
шел домой, закрывал за собой слуховое окошко на чердаке и зажигал
свечи, стоявшие длинным рядом на выступе изразцовой печи. Тот, кто
обитал под кухонным столиком, по-прежнему не вылезал, чтобы поесть, а
жил, по-видимому, своей собственной, ужасно таинственной и важной
жизнью.
По льду ковыляла Морра, тоже занятая своими собственными мыслями,
которые никто до сих пор так и не смог разгадать, а в шкафу купальни
за купальными халатами затаилось что-то ужасно опасное. Ничего тут не
поделаешь!
Неизвестно почему, но такое бывает в жизни, и ты перед этим
беспомощен.
Муми-тролль отыскал на чердаке большую коробку с глянцевыми
картинками и, восхищенный по-летнему яркими красками, принялся
мечтательно их разглядывать. Там было все: и цветы, и восходы солнца,
и маленькие автомобильчики со светлыми и яркими колесиками. Блестящие
мирные картинки напомнили ему о том прекрасном мире, который он
утратил.
|
May 1st, 2006
12:31 am
Ladela. The cats are meawing again. For some reason they tend to fight after midnight. I like it in a way - my curtains are almost always drawn and I just lie there in bed and listen to them fighting. Try to imagine them - in the snow, or in the newly grown grass (as it probably is today - bright bright green and strung up) fighting over some catly business that for some reason is forever unsolved.
I miss my little soul tonight. I wish we could listen to the street cats together - sometimes they yelp in such a freakish manner.
|
January 26th, 2006
01:00 am
Couldn't sleep well last night. Woke up today, accordingly. Downloaded loads of music. It would work, it would work if...
Ако не ми беше толкова гадно. Просто не мога... ПИИИИИИИИИИИИЗДЕЕЕЕЕЕЕЕЕЕЕЕЦь.
If I wasn't hysteric with staying here all day long because it is too cold. Change the weeeather.
|
December 31st, 2005
10:26 pm
Ira just called. And I want to remember that because Ira is one of them weird lovely people who never calls because she lives in a land that has nothing to do with us and has endevours most complicated to attend to there.
|
December 30th, 2005
December 4th, 2005
12:24 am
And then they put the paperman into the jar and closed it tight and threw the jar into the sea. And terrible the noise was but what did he see....
|
October 24th, 2005
October 19th, 2005
11:38 pm - Trying to be symmetric in my moods
Ze lovely English teacher who can't speak English but is still so wonderful.
I have developed a great proneness to feeling oh-so-down in a swinging way ranging from wanting to rip to pieces *everything* that falls in my way or in whose way I wish to fall to just quietly walking down the street and smiling because I'm feeling *so* low for no amazing reason that it's ridiculous.
A lot of people greatly support the theory that if something is wrong and wrong and wrong for a long time then it will just HAVE to take a break from being wrong since all things MUST be balanced. Now I vow neither against nor for since, depending on my mood, I tend to affirm it absolutely true or demanding blind faith. But the point is that sometimes little silly things can fix things one would generally think of as greatly flawed and demanding divine intervention or something of the sort to fix.
I have spent the last few days sulking and sulking and sulking because I can't shake the feeling everyone wants me to. I have also, oh happy time, grown paranoid. I keep on thinking I've said something terrible and forgotten all about it and have taken to re-reading my e-mails so as to make sure I haven't said anything terrible and I have no idea why I care so terribly much. Terrible it is ;).
Everyone is so obsessed with the problems that could occur that I find myself constantly examining in minute detail all the possible tragedies of the world. I have an exceedingly vivid picture of myself some 10 years later having messed up EVERYTHING I possibly could. I didn't have a picture of me having ceased EVERY chance I could though. I have decided that I should give it to myself that that is not fair.
And then there is music. I went to the Zemfira concert with Iana and the only thing I can possibly compare it with right now is the Placebo concert with a lot of chestnut red. Music is the only constantly readily usable method of dealing with Things.
That is my first update in how many months?
They say things will change but nothing will change. :)
|
July 16th, 2005
02:03 am
Today I woke up at 15:35 with the idea in my head that I'm getting up early and defeating my new-found habit of getting up too late. Still, it wasn't like it really mattered that I wasted the day clean.
At about 17 it started raining and I decided I have to go to the British Council. I couldn't really wait for it to stop since the Council closes at 18, so I went out all the same and it was all quite fine if we don't count the fact that I once again realized how melodramatic people are.
Every single bloody person who passed me by threw me a questioning and really exaggerated look obviously hoping that I would react to their amusement that I was walking with an umbrella in my hand during a storm and not opening it. It really wasn't any of their business and therefore annoyed me. It would have been so nice to know that a fair few of the people around me have better things to think about than completely unknown 16 year olds walking with an umbrella and not using it. I wish *I* could stop thinking about things like that. May be it would drive me mad thinking about truly important things *all* the time but important things lead to interesting/related things that are not so important but are much more fun than the other unimportant things that are not even related to important things.
Coming home I resumed reading Salinger's novel about the Glass family. It will definitely go into my list of favorite books (there is no such *list* but that is a tedious detail). Not necessarily because of the "action" that goes on in it but because of the lovely feeling it leaves and how occupied it keeps me. And for some weird reason, I feel like I'm going to meet some of the characters later on in life. Like they are this really practical prototype that one feels sure actually has people who fit in it and is not just the product of some sick mind.
Mhm
|
June 7th, 2005
11:25 pm
Since I've only just realized I've been tagged (haven't opened livejournal in ages), here it goes.
My top 6 favorite songs at the moment (not of all time or anything:
1. The Dawn Parade - The Craving (I hadn't listened to them for ages and coming back to them feels so good)
2. David Bowie - Ashes to Ashes (because it reminds me of the good sides of this time last year)
3. Interpol - Roland (I wrote a little story about Roland a few days ago (it was terrible for anyone who couldn't reach that conclusion on their own) and I can't seem to get it out of my head for some silly reason)
4. JJ72 - Sinking (for 2897498 reasons none of which I feel like going into), the whole I to Sky album.
5. Placebo - Twenty Years (because it wasn't me who brought the CD to school and because of the pretty dance one of my friends did to it (she does gymnastics), and because everyone was smiling so widely and stuuuuff)
6. Ostava - Mono
And since I gather I have to tag someone myself:
1. ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) oursin (since I have no idea what they'd write)
2. sparkleme
3. emuly (for my own personal content)
4. ms_dita_x (who I've been thinking about quite a lot and need to talk to some time soooooooon)
5. mrhuther
With a muchas gracias to dry_your_eyes for the idea.
I won't take it personally if some of you don't bother although it would be nice if you do.
|
May 14th, 2005
07:02 pm
'Biliana, I've sort of got news for you. I'm not sure if I should even tell you. Don't tell anyone, alright?'
'What? You're leaving for America?'
'How the bloody HELL did you know?!'
It wasn't that hard to work out - that's what's always happening - it's just that some of us haven't noticed. Now what would have been a surprise would be someone saying that they plan to stay. Just stay. Not save my live, not love me till the end of time - just to be together, to notice the frequent change of socks as some are ruined and others brought. I do love the fact that I get to see so much and go mad when left standing in the same place for too long; it's just that this constant current of people coming in, rearranging things, making themselves comfortable and then leaving can make you wish for a bit more balance. Everyone has been leaving since the very start of this bloody age period.
I'm not too upset really. I haven't cried and the rest of the day went on as usual for everyone - I smiled, I talked about the usual bore, I came home, took out my book and read a bit more of the 'Wind-up Bird Chronicles', I went to the British Council and entertained myself really well there. It's not like I find myself incapable of living on and want everything to chance immediately - I just want to be sure that when the right people walk in, they won't go out. That they won't, one night, take their bags and leave for Canada, where I would never follow them.
I saw an Asian woman on the bus today. She was just starring out of the window - not excited, but not asleep, just looking out from some cozy couch inside her. She looked so outsiderish and foreign - not just the physical side of it, but the expression as well - that I caught myself wondering what it must be like to be in a foreign country. Ridiculous, I know, but subconsciously perfectly acceptable. It hardly feels foreign here now. And only in a non-English society can one realize just how many spheres of their life are connected with the English culture and how dependant they are on certain parts of it in order to make it through an average day. And, of course, Bulgaria - the stop where we endlessly return. It is all quite messy.
I feel like just randomly stopping anywhere and making myself a place to stay. I'm not sure if it would work, but I want to at least try when I finish uni. If it doesn't - then I can always fall back into this constant moving - I do after all speak Bulgarian, English and Russian (and soon Ukrainian, they talk in that in the universities), I should be able to find a job that will have me moving around until I die. (This isn't me suggesting I'm not too fond of the concept of living - I just can't finish the sentence in any other way. That's how sentences always finish.)
In one of the Murakami books, Rat says that he feels like everyone is playing a huge musical chairs game. And at some point, there didn’t seem to be a chair left for him.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/niaha/kitty/ankhappyg.gif) cheerful
|
February 20th, 2005
06:33 pm
I so badly miss been childish in a grown-up way or grown-up in a childish way. That perfect balance of non-sense and serious subjects that made the world seem cogent, even though it sort of drifted away from it as well. Sitting by the old house at my grandparents’ and talking about the future and what I want it to be. And discussing movie stars as though their existence is bound to change so so so much. And the fact we could just stand there starring at the stars and not say anything. And talking about my best friend's grandmother not because we need *something* to talk about, but because it actually mattered. And "pondering things out". I miss "pondering things out" with other people. I'm not nearly as antisocial as some tend to make me out to be. I like been with people, I just don't like aimlessly drifting with them because that is pointless and I might as well be thinking about things on my own. I know most people begin by drifting aimlessly and then come to a point when they can "ponder things out together" but then sometimes they just drift and drift and then drift apart and waste their time. I like the phrase "governing dynamics".
I miss Villy. She's going through a strange growth period and I'm sure I could somehow help if we were to meet. I can never figure out why she understands me. With people like Emily it seems like some strange coincidence, loads of little things matching that make the things we see slightly similar and that's that. But with Villy I can't quite work it out. We always start off by feeling really, really distant and then she seems to magically turn into the friend I want. From this slightly annoying person who keeps on going 'matt who?!?!' to this wonderful individual who is writing MUSE in chalk on any given flat surface and looking like she actually thrives on it. I miss Bulgaria with its incomprehensible, southern ways that are mine all the same, and England with its ducks and rainy days in the park.
But that's just me - on certain days I miss things. Things that could have been, things that have been, things that ought to be but aren't happening. On other days I just don't care. At all. It's me and what I tend to do and all the abstract lines of thought are a waste of time. On some days you just have to accept things as they come and let them wash you in. But these days are inevitably followed by days like today and so on and so forth.
As usual I fail to update frequently and when I do ramble on and on and on...
I ADORE Matt Bellamy's socks. Still. There is a lifetime's worth of facinating flutter about this man.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/niaha/kitty/ankawakeg.gif) surprised
Current Music: Yes Please - MUSE
|
January 26th, 2005
12:14 am
I miss the times when I met people who could finish my sentences, in real life. I've just watched a few scenes from Donnie Darko - it's one of these movies that I feel were made for my *personal* pleasure. I wish there was at least one person who I could actually feel similar to in school. My class mates are very nice and interesting people but I'm so dreadfully tired of explaining what seems to be obvious and so miss the meditative feeling of talking to people who sense you. I guess it is not a question of understanding (since they are all rather clever), but more of a sensing/intuitive thing that I'm yet to find in someone here.
Emily can expect severe stalking sometime soon.
|
November 24th, 2004
09:32 pm - Random Thoughts November 24th 2004 - Revolutions are made by ...?
The last few days have all been rather strange and I suddenly feel the need to ramble about them. The world has turned JJ72 and though it has become easier for me to feel comfortable in my own skin, I've been shivering for days.
I wrote this before finding out about the results of the election. Not much has changed - I knew there was a possibility that nothing would change. Yesterday's headlines ALWAYS end up scatterbrain.
Current Mood: hopeful
Current Music: JJ72 - JJ72 - Bumble Bee
|
November 15th, 2004
09:32 pm - Once around the Picture Show
I've just finished reading *rosie*'s post - God how I love the way she writes. Buffseeds made history for me - a history I always wanted. And now they are falling apart and I stand there watching and waiting and wanting to say something that would make things better and most importantly to believe something that would make things easier.
Don't tell my friends I'm a coward. That sums me up so fully today. I'm so wrapped up in it all, it's inside and outside and it's all falling. It just seems inevitable. It either stops and dies or keeps on falling. I just want to do this falling thing properly, I want it to be beautiful, and I want it to matter to someone and most importantly to me. I want to wake up one day and to know I'm glad to be my lover on the way down, that on the way down from the skies I've never seen you so beautiful. I want things between me and me to be fine, like they are when I listen to the Buffseeds, I want to be sure that they've done all they could to make me understand things, that they did all that my humble self could expect of them. You can't expect things to fall at exactly the same pace as you. To me the Buffseeds fell too fast but that's always the challenge with things in life. Things either fall too fast or too slow - you have to get used to falling alone and to taking all you can in the brief moments you have with people.
This is just a hideaway. It was just a hideaway that changed me, a little room that smelt of life and tea, where I saw my life in someone else’s picture show the way you’re meant to see it at the end of the fall. A picture show, which I felt helped me learn about the way other people fall, that made me feel loved although I continue to fall in my little world and see such a small part of it I sometimes wonder if it would matter if I closed my eyes and never bothered to open them again. The answer is it would because I wouldn’t have seen the Buffseeds in their beautiful moment of falling and I would have never got up in the morning to stare at the mirror imagining the image of Buffseeds falling reflecting in the green of my eye.
Still, I think Emily was absolutely right about Kieran and I’m most glad I started talking about it to her. Buffseeds have been lost, the air was thin and they fell fast but Kieran is still here and although change is about when it comes to the music too, I trust him. I believe he will change things, because I know he can. Kieran is a man of life and I trust in him. A man evolves as his surroundings evolve. I long for a place where I feel the evolution in my bones and it makes me smile and I expect of my music to evolve because it is one of the only things that I purposefully allow to wonder around me, to unearth me and it owes me a considerable rent. The new band will be the most beautiful thing to have entered my head and I trust in it.
I don't know why, but I've just decided that this post is called 'Once around The Picture Show', which is terribly silly considering the fact I've been claiming things go in a straight line and downwards. Lines can't go downwards without going upwards. I like that about them. So are we moving in an arrow sort of way or just drawing a line? This has lost all sense.
MmmmMmmmmMmmmmMmmm (that's the mmmmmm at the end of the picture show)
Current Mood: grateful
Current Music: BUFFSEEDS - Hideaway
|
October 25th, 2004
06:35 pm
"There are twenty years to go and twenty ways to know who and where, who and where the hell." (Brian Molko, or at least what I think he sings, although the internet disagrees with me and it is rarely wrong.)
I've spent the last few weeks feeling confused. I believe it is better to admit to been confused than to pretend you know something that you don't. But since my last completely clueless period I seem to have grown a little voice that keeps on begging me to do something. I think I grew self-esteem this summer. A self-esteem that means that I can't allow myself to be completely alone, that refuses to believe that I'm meant to not have a clue as to what to do, that won't tolerate me not doing anything. It's not a very big self-esteem but it keeps the grand depression away and I'm embarrassingly grateful for all the little things that built it.
I love Placebo. I love them for understanding and suggesting; I love them for making me laugh until my facial muscles hurt; I love them for making me cry when there was nothing else to do; unlike some people I love them for growing up, for giving maturity a try like every normal person has to.
Human life is so very short. How people doubt that we are just animals is beyond me. The idea of a pendulum measuring the length of our lifetime is terrifying, yet beautiful. It reminds me of Alexander Block, who believed that the universe is all made of sound. May be part of the terrifying beauty of people is that their life is measured out just like a song with the help of a natural pendulum.
Someone once said that human life is but a glass that we drink. Listening to 'Twenty Years' makes me think of that same thing. That's the end and that's the start of it... It sums up so perfectly how I've felt this last few months. I've been going from an extremely romantic, dreamy, isolated and ultimately barren state of mind to a realistic, profane and cynical one that makes me want to hurl myself at people. Both of these have, quite unsurprisingly, led me to doubt my sanity. Not in the ‘oh my god, put me in a mental asylum’ sort of way, just an ‘am I doing this whole thing properly or have I gone completely out of my mind?’ thing.
Listening to this song, I feel the calmest I have in such a long time. It’s a perfect mix of aesthetic sensuality and powerful realism – it’s melancholic. Brian himself said that it is very, very melancholic but not miserable. That got me a bit confused at the start, but now I think I understand. Its beauty is refreshing and its realism makes it important. It’s about ‘suddenly jumping on the reality express’ but not been forced to leave your emotional luggage. We need to concentrate on more than meets the eye.
I'm so very happy with my new icon-thing, that means I can stare into Brian's glass, while wondering what to write.
Current Mood: calm
Current Music: Placebo - Twenty Years
|
October 17th, 2004
10:12 pm
I'm once again subjecting myself to Sunday nostalgia. That's always the most powerful; it never fails to get a reaction out of my stubborn, self-controlled self. Sunday nostalgia is about feeling that there is no time for you; no time to be that, which you subconsciously expected when you went to bed as a child so that you can grow up. I was in a hurry even then. I recall hating the idea of sleep and longing to stay up all night. Right now I want to sleep, but that thing, which reminded me that the day is over and it is time to sleep, seems to have drowned in the mundane flow of meaningless events.
Actually, I'm in a very good mood. I'm listening to 'Thursday's Child' and feel understood - I was born on a Thursday. It, of course, doesn't have any influence on my personality but I still like collecting things that make me what I'm, even if their meaning is superficial. Oscar Wilde claims that every mask gives something to the person who chose to wear it. I think he is right and the idea makes me smile. He was born yesterday, some 150 years ago.
I like what the people at www.bukvite.com have written. It is quite contagious and feels close. The way they give mundane things a status quite close to that of a miracle; the way they exaggerate some things and ignore others, in exactly the same manner that I do every day, creates the illusion that I'm looking at myself in a distorted mirror.
Only for you I don't regret, that I was Thursday's child.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/niaha/kitty/ankthinkg.gif) nostalgic
Current Music: David Bowie - Thursday's Child
|
|
|
![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/niaha/kitty/ankangryg.gif){kind=small}
cranky