soft

Hello, my darlings.

This is a post about "soft".


Right.
I don't know about you but I grew up thinking "soft" will never ever get you anywhere at allll in this life.
And then I grew.
Just became more and more, cold and rigid, and tank-like.
And I used to love this.
The worse it got, the "better" I thought it all was.
Ooooooooohh, look at meee, I'm like a tank.

Lo-and-behold, I turned 23 or something and realised none of this - and I mean, NONE of this - works.
Nor does it have any logic.

Tank.
Seriously.
What.
Why would that be a good thing.
How can anyone make music like that?
How can anyone love or make love like that?
How can anyone make art, or something new?
How could anyone create like that?

One word: ice-queen.



And yes, la-la-la, "invincible and Strong" and whatever.
Point is.

It's actually a living breathing walking suicide. 

And it's so addictive, as is everything, let's be honest here.
You do something enough times and it becomes second nature.
Pretty simple.
Repetition is the root-mother of every thing.
SIMPLE AS.
You do something enough, and BAM! you think it's "my character".
I've done it enough times.

It's the rule that makes nature wonderful and terrifying.

So repeat the RIGHT things.
RIGHT FOR YOU.
F*CK someone else's "rights" and "wrongs".
Pick and choose what you want to be, pick and choose what you want to be seen as.
Make your life.
Make YOURSELF.

God.
This is super to myself.
Screw them all.
This is what I think.
All of them.
And just make YourSelf.
Pick the people, embrace and love and keep the people who let you be You, and just don't expect anything more or anything less.
Just You, the You-est you and the You of YOUR own choosing.
Not someone's cat or Jesus Christ's grandma.
Just YOU.

Enough with the ice queen tendencies now.
I don't like people like that, why should I ever try to BE it myself.

I am the dreamer, the soft ripe giving thing, like spring and wet soil, y'know?
Muddy, dirty, bloody, like gawddamn Mother Earth.
So why, again, my favourite question of all existence, why would I then turn into ice, which is by its very definition the opposite of wet, warm and fertile?

And if we want to talk about strength, then what is actually stronger than the earth, the basis on which all of this motherfrikkin circus is standing on anyway.

So seriously.
I need to stop this infantile ridiculousness.
And just become the person I want to be.
And kick ass like that.
I don't know why this is taking so long....but hey. Patience after-all.

Patience.
Keep muddy, keep warm and keep wet.
Peace out, darlings.

Yours truly.M.

Everests

So, A. and I spoke about this thing, a long long time ago.
The idea of Everests.

Personal Everests.
And the fear of them.
And then I felt this question - when was the last time I climbed an Everest?

So, therefore.

It's time to climb the Everests.
All of them.
One at a time.
But it's time for the Everests.
And climb them we shall.

End of 2013.
There's still some time to go.
Time to do things.
Not loads, but there's time.
Time to be productive, time for things, and Everests.

Time to focus on what's important.
Ourselves.
Our family.
Our friends.
The people we want to communicate with.

He is able, who THINKS he is able.
And she who thinks she will climb her Everests, shall climb her Everests.


Today was a great day.
Listened to a great lesson, with a teacher I really really like.
So this is SUPER exciting.
Then went to the cinema with the Spaniard to watch a MUSE CONCERT.
Which was INCREDIBLE.
So intense days.
Crazy good, but intense days.

So now I'm going to try and get to sleep.
A rehearsal tomorrow.
And some lovely meetings.

Everests.
This is what I'm leaving you with.
E
VE
RESTS

Think about them.
And be brave enough to go for the climb.

With love and light.
M.


PS.

!!!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-hJq1GSV8Q
Please listen to this.



---

An Invitation.

Come, winter - rip us all bare.
Past the hot veins, and tear the cosy flesh.
Freeze us, entirely, claw down to the bone.
Remove the impatient muscle.
Watch the name
the title
the numbers
and the figures
tumble away,
fly off
(like they never were)
become one with the white.

Just leave the core.
So we can mingle, touch each other past the pretense. 
Press curious tongues against the icy void,
The heart of the bone.

Let the wind rage through - cold and impersonal -
As we stand, (un)moved, ready to confess.
Let it coil its way around my ever-fragile skeleton,
And caress my truth as I uncover yours.
No warmth, no heat.
No lies.
All unravelling, together, in near-perfect sync,
Faced with what we are.

The storms will start fuelling a different kind of fire.
Barren, bare, raw.
But true.

Come, winter.
Please.
Rip us all
bare.

the Great

A friend of mine told me this story today.

This is a story about Alexander the Great.

Before his death, Alexander the Great asked his friends to place him in his casket with his hands by his sides, but his palms open, facing up, bare and showing.
His friends were confused at his request and asked him why he wanted his hands to be so exposed.

To which Alexander replied: "My friends, people from around the world will travel to see me before I am buried. I want them all to see that this is the man who owns the world, and yet he leaves with two empty hands."

(PS, I don't care whether this is true or not. Do not care.)
My friend went on to say, that this is how it is. All of this is borrowed. Throughout our lives, the houses, the cars, the everything. It's all borrowed. Because at the end of it all, we give it all back and then leave with two empty hands.
Even the man who had the entire world at his feet.

So don't sign your life away for a job you don't like, or values that are not yours, or to a whole life-time of doing things that do nothing for your soul.
Because at the end of it all, you cannot take any of this with you.

So why spend a lifetime chasing someone else's unicorns.

Yours truly.
M.

aujourd'hui

Today was a Tuesday.
And the weather was nice.
I saw an old friend (although she's like a forever friend to be honest), talked some art with interesting people and then ended the day on this terrace, which is awesome.
So now I'm home. Chilling and being horizontal, with Biggest Loser.

I'm quite chilled out.
This feels nice.

I've got plenty of work to do, but I will wake up tomorrow morning and do that, and for now these thoughts are allowed to vacate my mind.

And leave behind, peace. Tranquil peace, which is of course emptiness in itself. But not the kind of emptiness that should ever be feared.
The good kind.

Oh, and, what I wanted was interesting people.
And this is what I got.
Tonight, I'm allowing myself to feel good about stuff, regardless of all the things I still need to do.
I will always have things to do.
But tonight, I'm allowing myself to feel good.

Allow yourself to feel good.
M.

day and night

What
happens
during
the
night?

I don't understand it.
I go to sleep feeling perfectly alright, having been hideously useful during the day, done some concert stuff and so forth. Watched some Brideshead Revisited. Dream of some cool theatre stuff.
And then I wake up.

And somewhere between sleeping, and becoming fully awake, something happens.
And I wake up ..not sad, or anything. Just empty I guess.

And I battle it.
I battle it with music, and melon and more Brideshead and good thoughts.
But I would like to wake up and not have to 'fight' something.

The reason I'm writing about this is because this has happen for a few days now.
And it's just getting very tiring to be honest.

These are the times.
M.

sun

There's just this super ghetto looking lot of nothing behind our apartment block.
But it gets real pretty sunsets and sunrises. 

So I'm super pleased they are yet to fill it with all-sorts of buildings, but for now, it just is.

Sunsets.
M.