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Archive for the ‘Hollow Words’ Category

It came to my attention lately that I became lazy and procrastinating. Looks like, the summer holiday has two sides for me: a couch-potato coma of some sorts and the possibility to reach the stars (mind the awful metaphor, would you?).

So, why come back? Why not lay down and die? (mind the other bad metaphor, please..)

Probably to go forward if you ask me… probably to get out of bed… and to exercise my rusty capacity of original feelings and thoughts, however improbable that seems to be.

That being said, I’m going to roll with the wave and try to put some things that run through that narrow mind of mine on this kind of “paper” (no, I’m not at the seaside… more about that some other time).

PS: to those 2 people who accidentally came over this post, it’s good to have you here! Btw, this is more of an exercise to myself, rather than a statement..

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Are you familiar with the expression spring neurosis? I wouldn’t think so… I want to believe that I somehow coined or invented the phrase, although I’m pretty sure a certain symbolistic poet may have used it, or at leat suggest it (got it?) somewhere down the line, so it might be just a subconscious impulse and nothing that great… This only grows the neurosis…

Anyway, the spring neurosis is a very common “affection”, or so I believe. It’s that anxiety that hits you every spring, mostly because the big changes that you encounter all over the place, but that’s only a mere pretext. A spring neurosis comes from the spring changes, but it’s mostly a psychological and emotional strain those changes puts on you and like any other illness, you have to fight it and eventually overcome it

As for me, it hits me every spring. It hits me more often than that, but never like this. This spring I had to move out from the apartment I lived in for almost 4 years, a place to be called home, to another apartment a couple of blocks away. The motifs are above me and not to be debated. Anyway, this was the pretext, along the spring which brings a whole new perspective over the world. I can’t just shut my eyes and ignore everything… and maybe that’s not a particular wrong thing, but maybe it’s also a defect…

To give you an idea of what I’m going through, it’s like this anxiety that comes and goes, sometimes fear, sometimes hate, sometimes simple boredom… and it’s very hard if you ask me, but I know there are people who are having worse than that and I wish them all the best, because every spring neurosis eventually heals, leaving room for some other, more complicated emotional, psychological issues…

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When people asked me what do I want to do when I’ll be a grown-up, I didn’t know what to answer… Years later, and I still don’t know what to answer. Lawyer, maybe… Nah… Writer? Film… something? Human being???

Never had the claim of a writer, never thought myself as one, not because I didn’t want to, but simply because I wouldn’t find the strength to ascend to that status. Maybe I don’t have what it takes… Talent. Skill. Inspiration. A simple and basic connection between my neurons so I can write down my thoughts… you name it…

So, why come back? Why not lay down and die? Forget? Wait for time to kill you? Maybe because time is a flat circle (yeah, True Detective reference!) and whatever I do, it’s gonna repeat and happen on a basic, tasteless schedule, again and again. but that’s no perfect theory either.

Not gonna go deep with the philosophy this time… Gonna try, but not gonna force my hand. Not gonna go over my head with nothing this time. After all, I think that was my failure… and maybe I’m not alone there…

Gonna try keep it casual and cool (big words already…)

PS: Why don’t you follow this blog, bookmark it or simply remember it’s stupid address? Make an exercise, will yah?

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The night was quiet, too quiet. All you could hear was the soft warble of the water flowing somewhere behind the tree line. The bright sky, filled by glowing stars and a full moon, couldn’t enlighten the night through the dense foliage of the jungle. There was an easy gust of wind now and then, crossing the loaded branches, making a low sound, more calming in the dense, quiet darkness of the night.

They were guarding a random position, taken 2 days ago from them. Josh and Matt were staying in a fox hole with a full loaded machine gun on a cold tripod. They had their Tommy Guns on the side of the hole, as well as 3 hand grenades and 2 Colt Pistols, but they’ll remain unused, lost in the darkness of the night.

They knew each other as back as they could remember. Josh and Matt were best buddies, both from the same hometown, both taking the same schools, sharing the same adventures and problems, both being here, in the same night. Matt was 2 months older than Josh and always took care of him as a youngest brother he never had. He even saved his life twice since they were on the battlefield, but he never thought of that as a favour, or a good gesture. He always felt like that was his job, like he had to protect Josh, like that was a normal thing to do for him.

– Goddamn trees! You can’t even see the sky and I’m tired of this darkness! If they attack, we won’t be able to see them not until they get close enough to wipe us of the face of Earth.

– Yeah, Josh said. At least is not raining and it’s not too cold as well. If we weren’t at war, this would be a perfect night to stay awake, think clear in the quietness of the night or simple enjoy the silence.

– Only if…

As now, it doesn’t count at all. In the war, there is no beauty and even no time to catch your breath. There is only the silence or the thundering of combat, only clear fields or smoky holes, only dead corpses or dying bodies, slowly losing themselves at the influence of war. They could never enjoy anything in the war, even that calm and quiet night back then. You must stay alert at all times, constant vigilance, as the training thought them and there is a strong reason to be so.

– You heard that?

– What?

– I just thought that… Never mind! Let’s just be careful!

And in the silence of the night a short, sharp sound crossed the jungle as a gun was loaded…

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Sky’s dark and grey, while the wind screams around the corner of the street, carrying fresh leaves and old dust. The sky looks so interesting in a mixture of heavy clouds, but somehow, the focus of action stays on the ground level.

While the rain might start any second now, the peace before the storm is long gone, maybe from the second the clouds started gathering on the sky, the second the wind started blowing… all I can certainly feel is the emptyness around, in both outside and inside my soul.

It feels so cold, so dark, so hollow, it makes me wanna scream and laugh, it makes me feel better and worse in the same time. The nature had once again come to play with my fragile person, torturing and fondling me, but I can’t ask for nothing more…

The rain may never start again from what I care… it will be fine just the way it is, in this endless prelude of fine taste.

It may never start again from what I care… it will be just perfect…

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It’s raining all again, after such a long time. I almost forgot the sound of the splashing water against the concrete, the smell of my street in rain, the image of the sky, the heavy clouds, the pressure and the psycho-spiritual relief, but someone up there has not forgotten me, or maybe that’s just a random natural phenomenon. Who knows? Who wants to know? I just want to sit back and enjoy the symphony of the water, that essential chemical element, the source of all that lives on Earth.

Nevertheless, people are blind, deaf and insensible. They leave the street, they ignore the song, they look apart and close the windows of their houses. Why? How I’d want to understand them. Am I a freak? Don’t think so. I just love the rain and until the day I will pass away I will still be incurable in love with the rain.

I’m closing for now as they raindrops get thicker and stronger and I want to be there, in the middle of it, to sing and dance at unison with Mother Nature. Let it rain, hard and mighty, like the world would end tomorrow, like we’d see no other sun, no other day…

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I`d like to be independent, like I once read in an dusty novel, between old pages. Among those blurry lynes, few words arised, clear and alive, only few that I`ll remember years later, at the moment of writing, one simple statement written at the closure of a life: “I lived an independent life”.

There is no greater lesson than this, at least at the time being, at least for me. Never rely on anyone, but yourself! Never expect anything from anyone, but yourself! Be free and independent! Live as you want!

Don’t rely on anyone…

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"Futility of futilities, all is futile"

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"Live to the point of tears"