gun

i'll be the smoothest thing to touch your skin

Emiliana Torrini and Gun.

Musique.M.

fall in love

“

Don’t fall in love with a curious one.
They will want to know who you are, where you come from, what your family was like.
They will look through your photographs and read all of your poems. They will come over for dinner and speak to your mother about how their curiosity has taught them things of use to her. They will ask you to rant when you’re angry and cry when you’re hurt.
They will ask what that raised eyebrow meant. They will want to know your favorite food, your favorite color, you favorite person. They will ask why.
They will buy that camera you liked, pay attention to that band you love in case there’s a show near by, they will get you the sweater you smiled at once. They’ll learn to cook your favorite meals.
The curious people don’t settle for your shell, they want the insides.
They want what makes you heavy, what makes you uneasy, what makes you scream
for joy, and anger, and heartbreak.
Their skin will turn into pages
that you learn to pour out your entire being in.
Don’t fall in love with the curious one.
They won’t let a sigh go unexplained.
They will want to know what they did
Exactly what they did to make you love them.
Year, month, week, day.
“What time was it? What did I say? What did I do?
How did you feel?”
Don’t fall in love with a curious one because I’ve been there.
They will unbutton your shirt
and read every scar
every mark
every curve.
They will dissect your every limb, every organ, every thought, every being
then walk back home and eat their dinner and never return your calls.
You will never be their lifelong expedition. The heart is a mystery only for so long.
There is no ache like loving a curious one
who chases every falling star and never catching one.
Who comes and sees and conquers
and leaves.

I’ve fallen in love with a curious one.
Maybe one day he will take the train back home
and be curious enough to read one last message from me
carved on a seat.

"There’s a curiosity in you that will move mountains some day
as effortlessly as you’ve moved me for years.”

Don’t Fall In Love With The Curious One

http://mlcli.tumblr.com/

perfect

This is a post about perfection.

Okay, so when I was a 5-year-old, my dad asked me why I use the word "hate".
You know, like kids do it, "I hate this", "I hate that", "I hate peas", et cetera.
So he said, why not say "dislike".
He told me the word "hate" had a lot of negative energy, for me and for others, using a word that strong, that powerful.
So I dropped it, and I don't use it.
I just don't.
I rarely, rarely - rarely - close enough to almost say "never", feel strong enough to "hate" anything, at all.
Strong dislike? Sure.
Hate? No.

I will now.
I hate this search for "perfect", or "perfection".
I hate it.
The Perfect Wedding, the Perfect Man, the PERFECT holiday, the PERFECT dress, the PERFECT hair, the PERFECT PERFECTION.
Seriously.

(.. keep going with me.)

The thing is.
To seek perfection or to seek The Perfect person or state, implies that at some point we get to stop working, and stop growing.
It implies that at some point change will stop occurring.
Therefore, it implies the arrival of stagnation.
Blissful (I'm sure), yet stupid stagnation.
Almost like a catatonic state.

The question is not whether "perfect" exists in this world or not.
I don't care.
The point is that we simply do not - and honestly do not - need it.
We don't need it.
It does us no good.
No good, at all, as living, breathing, sweating, bleeding human beings.
We are alive.
This implies not being stagnant! Ever.
Stagnation in human beings implies a flat-line.
No heartbeat, no blood pressure, no cells growing, and renewing.
Perfection makes us strive for a goal, an end-point, when we really should have two eyes focused on the journey.
This magical, awesome, brilliant journey.
Also called Life.
There is no "perfect", there is no end point.

There is just the boundless giving random-ness of the great Universe kaleidoscope.

Perfect has nothing to do with it.


It's like this phrase: Picture Perfect.
But you know what? It's also un-alive.
And I come at this as someone who has the highest regard for the art of photography, photographers and photos.
I really do value it as an art and respect it, but real life?
Real life is not picture perfect.
This endless talk about - this looks perfect, and that looks perfect.
Fine for selling something, an advertisement, or dolls, and of course snapshots of our memories.
But we cannot be Picture Perfect because we are alive.
And that is magical.
And I don't see why anyone would ever want to change that.
Change the magic of being alive for giving into the hunt for this rigidity.

We are alive, so alive.
Perfection cannot be duplicated.
Maybe newborns are perfect?
Maybe the fact that the sun rises and sets, is perfect?
Maybe flower-like frost on a window, is perfect?
Or maybe laughing till you cry with friends?
But it cannot be manufactured.
It happens.
Maybe it exists after-all.
But to chase it would be certain death for the living cell.

It just Is.
We just Are.

So let's just Be.

Yours truly.
Love and light, as always.
M.

in your nature

Baby, it's in your nature
Just let me liberate you

Let's have fun, kids.
M.

as you are

Come 
as you are.
as you were.
As you want to be.

I don't know and maybe never will know why these words mean so much to me.
Or what they mean exactly.
But hey, maybe I won't know and don't need to know.
Bottomline is they really mean something.
Really mean something to me.

So hey.
Whatever.

Come as you are.
And I will always accept you and not judge you and love you like you are.
Come as you are, as you were.
Come as you want to be.
I don't want you to be anything, I just want you to be.
So come as you are.
And I'll take you in, just the way you want to be.

Come
as
you
are.

Always.
M.

tactile

I like touching.
I think it's a nice idea to trace our lives with our fingertips.
Because truth is, our skin remembers.
And I think our skin has a slightly different memory than the one belonging to our brain. Yes, I know, technically they are all tied to the brain, but you know what I mean.
The skin remembers.
So trace and touch and enjoy the quiet and overwhelming whole-ness of touch.
This doesn't have to be sexual, though of course, that would have its perks.

But no, touching is simple. It's cotton fabrics, or sunny skin, or hot or cold or smooth or whatever, or moss or berries, or water, or sand, or pages of books or holding a pencil, or whatever. I mean, skin gets the point here, but over-all, everything is nice.
Tactile lives are so much richer I think. And sometimes when a whole wintertide has been spent wearing mittens I forget how divine it is to touch.

Tactile.
M.

personal

What a beautiful envelope.

Happy Tuesday. 
M.

bare bones

I don't like Rihanna's image and I don't like the vast majority of her music.
This, however, is not in that category, at all.
On the contrary.

I threw my hands in the air I said show me something

Something in the way you move.
M.

time

I have time.
Okay, yes, it's constantly reducing, but still, I have time.

I have time.
To live a life that I've chosen for myself.
To do the things I want to do.
To decide
To change
To learn
To grow
To laugh
And dance
And travel
And adventure
To see
To hear
To taste
To touch

And I can only do this for myself.
I cannot convince anyone else of anything, unless they want to do it or want to be convinced.
February is for making sure I do the best I can with me, and leave others to do their own growing, and whatever.
And there's plenty I want to do with me. Things to decide and find out and explore and, just so much.

I have time.
Use it well.

Here's to time.
M.

(I think I dreamt something weird.)

Amelie

I don't know how this always finds its way to me, but this composer's music and I just seem to meet a lot.
You know, like when there's a thing that you just notice, again and again, without seeking it out.
Like when someone's talking about it, or you hear it somewhere, etc.

I love the film pretty whole-heartedly. If you haven't seen it, I really really really recommend it.
Some seriously super-super storytelling.

Composer Yann Tiersen. Awesome human.

Amelie.
M.

move

This is just absolutely mesmerising.
I think I've spent alltogether 30 minutes, all through the day, staring at this.

Move.
M.

adventure

What would be greater
than the adventure
of really letting yourself be
whatever it is you want to be?

Letting yourself grow
into whatever it is
you shall grow into?

DON'T BE A PUSSY
AND TAKE THE LEAP

a series

just a series of sights and sounds
sensations
images and memories

life
is just a series
like a collage in a notebook
of textures
silk and velvet
cold and warm
soft and smooth
feeling it over and over
fingertips and all

to think too much
and feel too little

iron in your soul
but fire in your eyes