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the green grass of home

patricelu — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 10:34:53 +0000

cibelle, song by tom waits

lay your head where my heart used to be...

it smells like rain today

patricelu — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 01:08:21 +0000

nu pot sa dorm. nu pot. sa-mi bag pula daca pot. si tigarile ma-sii nu ma ajuta deloc, nu ma relaxeaza deloc. nu mai pot!!! poate ca sunt eu singura si cea mai speciala care simte asta, dar imi e sila sa exist. atat de sila incat ar trebui sa ma inghita pamantul acum. sa ma dezintegrez pe loc. am impresia ca singura solutie la problemele mele existentialo-mistico-amoroase este sa plec dracului o data de aici, sa nu mai vad locurile pe care le vad, sa nu ma mai lovesc de oamenii de care ma lovesc. eu asta fac, ma lovesc de oameni si sa-mi bag pula daca misca vreunul. toata lumea e piatra. roca. granit. fiecare pe drumul lui. toata lumea stie mai bine. trebuie sa plec naibii o data. si la propiu si la figurat. si toate astea doar ca sa ma inghita un alt pamant.

after all this time...

patricelu — Sat, 02 Feb 2008 00:57:14 +0000

[no image]

... that doesn't feel longer than the second it takes for me to close my eyes, summer returns and puts you back on my mind

[my eyes are wide open now and all I can see is white and you. some colour, a colour, the colour, my colour]

lately I have been experiencing the death of one of my sweetest illusions, that often brings confort to my bleeding mind. the illusion that life goes on and tomorrow is another day. while tomorrow is indeed another day, and I can tell that because the sun is up, people around me are wearing different clothes and so do I, life doesn't go on. not for me. I am stuck in the same moment in time, living it over and over again. or not even that. I don't know whether I am living the same moment repeatedly or if that moment has dilated so much that it has consumed everything else.

I am still in a moment while moving further and further away from my home.

[fifty thousand miles from home]