Tag Archives: journal

There’s gonna have to be some danger

If the winds don’t catch you, I will, I will

What do I do, when I am dependent on someone else and I have to just wait and see in which direction this ginormous ball of crap is rolling? Well, I try and not curl up myself, I straighten my back, I hold my head up high and I live my life like I am the one that will have to die when my time comes.

Even when it seems the world is trying to quarter me, pulling my limbs into the four cardinal directions, I show it that it can’t hurt me, that it can’t even touch me. That I am, after all the shit — clinging to blades for just a moment and then with a nauseating ‘swoosh’ swinging in God knows what direction — still me, and that nothing or nobody can change that, but myself.

And if I choose to do so, if I choose to change, and they don’t like who I’ve become? Ha! Tough luck, the only one I have to report to (on occasion) is me and I like myself, so I have that going for me.

Fact is, I am changing. As time goes by, as moments pass, as I encounter and process, as I read and think and write, I change. Because I want to. It is something that started some years ago. (Yes, I am a late bloomer, winters don’t faze me.) The status quo was scaring me. Not moving means going nowhere. And I had travel plans.

With every molecule mutating, with every particle decaying and new ones being slung into this weird electric state simulating life, I look different from the moment before. In my experience a lot of people look upon that with eyes that seem to spark with fuses short circuiting behind their thick skulls. Usually people that appear close by in the rear view mirror, but are actually much farther away. Too bad. My life, my choice, my clutch, my stick shift, my gas pedal. Eat my dust.

So, nothing I can do at the moment. Somebody else is dealing the cards. It is not my job right now. And all the mess that maybe comes from the hand I will be dealt, that is what I am left with at that moment. That is my new jumping-off point. And jump off I will. It will be a giant leap forward, going straight into a free-fall. And the farther I jump, the bigger the chance I’ll land at some place interesting. A place I never thought I’d end up at. A beautiful new world.

Or I’ll smash into the earth.

Sometimes after I write something and reread it, another meaning suddenly hits me. I love it when that happens.

Dancing for screams

“Don’t talk unless you can improve the silence.”

― Jorge Luis Borges (Source: Goodreads)

Today this is all I got.

Babbling

Sometimes it is just a thought.
Woke up in a weird way.
Oh man, Sunday…

Gazing Back Into Me

“We make men without chests and expect from them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst.”

― C.S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man (Source: Goodreads)

I’m in a crappy mood. I am grumpy and bothered and disappointed. Truth and honor are increasingly a thing of the past it seems. Just dive in any (social media) forum and you will find ridicule, ignorance, deception and outright lies. And it permeates our lives. Maybe it was already there. Maybe it was there always. I’m seeing its bony fingers reaching in places I did not think it existed before. Maybe it is my age.

So, things are not going my way. And right now I see no way to dig myself out. I’m still optimistic though. It is just a question of not seeing my path yet. And I know I’ll be able to withstand the avalanche that inevitably will come rolling down the hill.

Shared hatred is a weird thing. It binds, it brings with it an energy somehow. A dark energy, but energy nonetheless. When you are faced with an unjust opposition you can climb on each others shoulders, fling your swords and fight to live another day.

Never be the one to hit first

  • What do you really want when you want to get your revenge?
    I’m with Kaufman, revenge restores a person’s honor. That the word ‘honor’ is in there, immediately gives the word ‘revenge’ its proper direction. In order to be honorable it cannot be aimed at innocent bystanders.
  • Revenge of the Nerd
    No true justice without restitution. And I have no patience with bullies.
  • Revenge Tourism
    Tourism with a vengeance to make up for all the times people couldn’t travel during the pandemic’s ravaging? Who are you going to blame?—Never mind, please don’t answer that one.
  • Revenge Can Be Sweet
    And that’s how to do it.

Back to my book.

Miles to go before I sleep

“I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book.”

― Groucho Marx (Source: Goodreads)

My parents’ television had these long buttons to change the channel, where, if you pushed one in, the one that was already in popped out again. Six buttons in total. Which was plenty, for there were only five stations to choose from. Two Dutch channels and three German ones.

The Germans had way more—and better—programs I thought. And they were broadcasting when the Dutch channels weren’t. An added benefit from watching German tv that much, was that I learned to understand and speak German from an early age. I didn’t mess with English until I was in high school. From then on German became too cumbersome for me, with noun cases and genders and all that.

I still remember dumping that old tv in the trash container together with my father. It went out with a bang.

What’s cooking?

Some of my favorite recent posts and poems:

And now back to my book. I want to finish it as soon as possible, because I want to start another.

Nothing to it | just bleed

Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.

― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

Evanescence – Use My Voice

I love writing. I can do it anywhere, anytime. Scribble. Or type. Think about it. Or pour my heart out. Any way I like it. There are no rules. Maybe you think there are, but believe me, there are not. How awesome is that? I can just think of something, or make stuff up, write it down.

I have a voice. Like you. You may not know it. You may not think it. But you do. Find it. Use it. Like I do.

Do I want to share it? Keep it to myself? It is up to me. I am in charge. And I love it. There are so many options. I can decide. I have control. Or maybe I just let go. Who knows? I just start, just do. Discover how great I can be. Am. Or how bad I suck. It doesn’t matter either way.

I don’t need to be a reader. I know that now. I thought I had to, but no more. I just have to want to write. And I do. And I do.

I can look different. I can look the same. I can not be seen. I can be lifelike. Fake. Whole. Or broken. I can get mean. I can be gentle. I can be me. Or somebody else. Anyone else. I get to pick.

I don’t have to wait. I can do it now. Here.

I can post. Share. Or not. Now, or later. I can be safe, or seek out danger. For real, or just on the page. And what is real? When I write, it becomes real. As real as can be. As real as I want. As you want it to be. For you. I just wrote it. You read it. It is my gift to you. To me. Take it, leave it. I want it, I have it. You can have it. If you want it.

I can tell a story. My story. Somebody’s. Anybody’s. I can be truthful. Or lie. And it is all right. It is all good. Or bad. It really does not matter. But I do. I just do. I just enjoy. I hope you do too.

I wish you well.

Randomness

Soundtrack

[Previously published on Twan’s Newsletter]