(no subject)
I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
So languishing, mysterious and for sure deeply pale and with lips touched with cherry-red lipstick, shining like crimson, like a bloody touch.
And with muffled voice, talking, of course, of death, betrayal, wounded soul, fragility of relations, transience of life and of the deadly beautiful love.
Smoking a thin cigar with cigar-holder and, breathing out, moving away my hand. Getting drunk and crying of the things that never had come true.
Reading lyrics to my beloved ones then standing motionless in silence, full of feelings, pressed to each other face to face, naked soul and body.
Rushing about, doing stupid things, hastily hurting people and then pitying them, repenting of it, crying and laughing irrelevantly and being embarrassed beside the point. Saying nonsense but remaining the intellectual person. Saying 'poor people' and scorning the masses.
Being caustic in public, subtly ironic, slightly malicious and too cynical, never believing in justice but being noble. Being of course noble but bitterly realizing that the world would response in the same way, that there are no angels, no happy sweet love, no simple nice relations, but only pain, solitude and passion are.
Laughing as if having known something that the others will never know.
And I will die young, to lie in the coffin, beautiful as an angel, in the end wearing the white dress, being full of tenderness and calmness, people approaching to the coffin and saying ‘God, what a beauty!' And then ‘What a tragic life’.
I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
With my blond hair flying as I walk wearing long earrings and round and lovely glass beads. Press my hands against my face when being frightened of something and screech.
Always being surrounded by many men and admired, and being cared and caressed, and then the only one who is the best one surely will stay nearby for the entire life, as he moved mountains for me while having tried to win me.
Doing nothing complicated or heroic, just being and probably believing in my man as in God and looking at him with bated breath.
Being always easy and cheerful or if something happened just crying on the sly and yearning with lucid sadness and thinking just ‘How come?' or ‘Oops!’ or something simple like that and forgetting about it immediately.
And never being able to understand, just totally never being able to understand at all, sincerely never being able to understand what the problem is and just asking when necessary ‘What is the problem?’
And everybody around me being easy and joyful and thinking of me ‘What a blonde’, and I would shake my hair laughing, knowing that it is unnecessary to pretend and to be smart and whatever.
Calling my husband something like ‘Kitty’ or ‘Honey’ and he would call me ‘Kitten’ or ‘Sweety’ and I would give birth to his children, lovely as little angels, would kiss their chubby cheeks and praise their nanny and say ‘She’s so nice, look, it seems to me that she truly loves them and this is the most important thing, who cares that she hasn’t got the PhD degree, so what? Because she loves them, doesn’t she?’
And to give my husband papers hearts for Valentine’s day and to insert small roses into the letters for my friends.
And I will live joyful and easy life and die being kind and lovely granny surrounded by many grandchildren so they would cry for a while and then tell their children ‘What a lucid soul our granny had!’ and ‘The granny is in heaven’.
I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
Riding a bike, listening to rock-n-roll. Shaking my hair when taking off the helmet and wearing comfortable clothes and using foul language whenever fancying it.
Never admitting authorities and being so willful. Making scandals for my boyfriend who wears that leather jacket, and fighting for my freedom till the end of time.
Being at different times fop, punk, hippie, Goth, antifascist…
Listening to the rock-music and being nostalgic about the old vinyl records of ‘Doors’ and ‘Deep Purple’.
Being proud and never admitting the society laws, never washing the dishes and despising all those home hens. Never talk about the clothes, just admiring bikes or frostily complimenting the real things that are made with soul.
Being your best friend, straightforward fellow but in the inside - passionate and restless woman that is always in lack of love and always will be, because her soul is full of wounds, injuries that she had got long ago, hundred years ago.
Never surrendering, never showing the pain - only to the closest ones, living desperately and wildly, never pitying or protecting myself.
And I will die being not so old, not at all, just when having lived enough, and order the others to play jazz and rock-n-roll on my funeral, to have fun and talk of me with jokes and funny stories and never moan or snot.
And I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
So great and with enormous soul. Never belong to myself because there is so much sorrow in this world, having to ease the pain of so many people as I can.
And living in self-sacrificing service, giving all myself to people, serving them, forgiving all of them, even the evilest evildoers.
Curing their wounds and teaching children.
Being merciful, wise and caring, being mother and sister for everyone.
Crying sometimes at nighttime because of solitude and loving myself being crying.
Wisely smiling and in the morning feeling the absolute happiness, understanding that I have enough of everything.
And I will die being very old, with the smile on my lips and with the warmness in my chest, leaving after plenty of love in people’s hearts.
I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
Too spiteful and pretty sarcastic, speaking in a hoarse voice. And being unbelievably talented so everyone has got to tolerate me.
With everyone being frightened of my sharp tongue and admiring me for the infinitely subtle ironic humor and hating me for my permissiveness.
And when I would play or sing or do something so splendid they would take their breath away crying and thinking ‘Oh God, that’s so magnificent, so extraordinary’, falling in love with me and promising to never hate me but never fulfilling their promises.
And I would be suffering of solitude but never showing it and I would be unhappy but free.
I would use rude words, sometimes sophisticatedly, sometimes roughly but always to the point.
Knowing how to joke wittedly and relevantly and always having a ready tongue.
Being clever but indulgent with silly women, sometimes not noticing them at all.
And crying at nights and becoming incredibly cynical but still remembering how to love.
So men would fall in love with me crazily but would never marry me being frightened even to approach me.
And I will die being totally lonely but the enormous crowds of people would come to my funeral and all the newspapers would shout about that and the people would say ‘What a pity, she was so much talented, she took a piece of my heart with her’
And I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
Totally crazy thing so all the people would say ‘She’s fucking out of her mind’ shrugging their shoulders.
And I would wear torn jeans and dirty trainers claiming that this is my bum-style which is for now the most actual.
Having survived a tragedy, finding a way out, being the winner, having got a load of lessons that will never proof useful to anyone.
Always being late, forgetting about everything and losing everything as well, looking for the keys in my purse for ages and swearing faintly. Being shy of the word ‘The Spirituality' because of its bombast but secretly meaning myself to be the spiritual person.
Settling at last in India claiming that the thoughts there are more material than in any other place and finally to go there for ever, leaving all my fur-coats to the girls, thinking 'Ah, all of these are just affections, now I am free of it', and after that having come back again, telling everyone that my destiny may be fulfilled only here, in dirty and cold Moscow.
Having found a boyfriend with dreads and socializing with him, smoking weed and meditating, but having left him as all of this is not truth, it's an illusion.
Rushing about for a long time, suffering of the lack of reciprocity and of my aspirations being so much misunderstood.
Finally having found a new boyfriend so much mundane, marry him cause he lives so fairly having got no concoctions and quasi-pursuits, and then blow up his mind suffering of him being so rude and ignorant, as he never accumulates the subtle energies and never reaches the astral when making sex, being satisfied only by carnal pleasures.
Shouting ‘We are totally different, you don’t understand me, you don’t support me in my quests’ but not leaving him cause ‘it's love and probably karma connection'.
Having a child and adopting another one ‘so that the baby will have a mother’ and hanging with them about the retreats and Alpine skiing resorts, dreaming to raise them free people.
And to refine my soul in meditation and being united with the Universe, crying when seeing so beautiful road lights white there and red back, and the people are so nice and they hurt you not because they are evil but just as they don’t know how to do it better.
And I will never die at all but go away to Samadhi reaching the ultimate level of realization.
So languishing, mysterious and for sure deeply pale and with lips touched with cherry-red lipstick, shining like crimson, like a bloody touch.
And with muffled voice, talking, of course, of death, betrayal, wounded soul, fragility of relations, transience of life and of the deadly beautiful love.
Smoking a thin cigar with cigar-holder and, breathing out, moving away my hand. Getting drunk and crying of the things that never had come true.
Reading lyrics to my beloved ones then standing motionless in silence, full of feelings, pressed to each other face to face, naked soul and body.
Rushing about, doing stupid things, hastily hurting people and then pitying them, repenting of it, crying and laughing irrelevantly and being embarrassed beside the point. Saying nonsense but remaining the intellectual person. Saying 'poor people' and scorning the masses.
Being caustic in public, subtly ironic, slightly malicious and too cynical, never believing in justice but being noble. Being of course noble but bitterly realizing that the world would response in the same way, that there are no angels, no happy sweet love, no simple nice relations, but only pain, solitude and passion are.
Laughing as if having known something that the others will never know.
And I will die young, to lie in the coffin, beautiful as an angel, in the end wearing the white dress, being full of tenderness and calmness, people approaching to the coffin and saying ‘God, what a beauty!' And then ‘What a tragic life’.
I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
With my blond hair flying as I walk wearing long earrings and round and lovely glass beads. Press my hands against my face when being frightened of something and screech.
Always being surrounded by many men and admired, and being cared and caressed, and then the only one who is the best one surely will stay nearby for the entire life, as he moved mountains for me while having tried to win me.
Doing nothing complicated or heroic, just being and probably believing in my man as in God and looking at him with bated breath.
Being always easy and cheerful or if something happened just crying on the sly and yearning with lucid sadness and thinking just ‘How come?' or ‘Oops!’ or something simple like that and forgetting about it immediately.
And never being able to understand, just totally never being able to understand at all, sincerely never being able to understand what the problem is and just asking when necessary ‘What is the problem?’
And everybody around me being easy and joyful and thinking of me ‘What a blonde’, and I would shake my hair laughing, knowing that it is unnecessary to pretend and to be smart and whatever.
Calling my husband something like ‘Kitty’ or ‘Honey’ and he would call me ‘Kitten’ or ‘Sweety’ and I would give birth to his children, lovely as little angels, would kiss their chubby cheeks and praise their nanny and say ‘She’s so nice, look, it seems to me that she truly loves them and this is the most important thing, who cares that she hasn’t got the PhD degree, so what? Because she loves them, doesn’t she?’
And to give my husband papers hearts for Valentine’s day and to insert small roses into the letters for my friends.
And I will live joyful and easy life and die being kind and lovely granny surrounded by many grandchildren so they would cry for a while and then tell their children ‘What a lucid soul our granny had!’ and ‘The granny is in heaven’.
I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
Riding a bike, listening to rock-n-roll. Shaking my hair when taking off the helmet and wearing comfortable clothes and using foul language whenever fancying it.
Never admitting authorities and being so willful. Making scandals for my boyfriend who wears that leather jacket, and fighting for my freedom till the end of time.
Being at different times fop, punk, hippie, Goth, antifascist…
Listening to the rock-music and being nostalgic about the old vinyl records of ‘Doors’ and ‘Deep Purple’.
Being proud and never admitting the society laws, never washing the dishes and despising all those home hens. Never talk about the clothes, just admiring bikes or frostily complimenting the real things that are made with soul.
Being your best friend, straightforward fellow but in the inside - passionate and restless woman that is always in lack of love and always will be, because her soul is full of wounds, injuries that she had got long ago, hundred years ago.
Never surrendering, never showing the pain - only to the closest ones, living desperately and wildly, never pitying or protecting myself.
And I will die being not so old, not at all, just when having lived enough, and order the others to play jazz and rock-n-roll on my funeral, to have fun and talk of me with jokes and funny stories and never moan or snot.
And I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
So great and with enormous soul. Never belong to myself because there is so much sorrow in this world, having to ease the pain of so many people as I can.
And living in self-sacrificing service, giving all myself to people, serving them, forgiving all of them, even the evilest evildoers.
Curing their wounds and teaching children.
Being merciful, wise and caring, being mother and sister for everyone.
Crying sometimes at nighttime because of solitude and loving myself being crying.
Wisely smiling and in the morning feeling the absolute happiness, understanding that I have enough of everything.
And I will die being very old, with the smile on my lips and with the warmness in my chest, leaving after plenty of love in people’s hearts.
I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
Too spiteful and pretty sarcastic, speaking in a hoarse voice. And being unbelievably talented so everyone has got to tolerate me.
With everyone being frightened of my sharp tongue and admiring me for the infinitely subtle ironic humor and hating me for my permissiveness.
And when I would play or sing or do something so splendid they would take their breath away crying and thinking ‘Oh God, that’s so magnificent, so extraordinary’, falling in love with me and promising to never hate me but never fulfilling their promises.
And I would be suffering of solitude but never showing it and I would be unhappy but free.
I would use rude words, sometimes sophisticatedly, sometimes roughly but always to the point.
Knowing how to joke wittedly and relevantly and always having a ready tongue.
Being clever but indulgent with silly women, sometimes not noticing them at all.
And crying at nights and becoming incredibly cynical but still remembering how to love.
So men would fall in love with me crazily but would never marry me being frightened even to approach me.
And I will die being totally lonely but the enormous crowds of people would come to my funeral and all the newspapers would shout about that and the people would say ‘What a pity, she was so much talented, she took a piece of my heart with her’
And I wish I could be such a womanish woman!
Totally crazy thing so all the people would say ‘She’s fucking out of her mind’ shrugging their shoulders.
And I would wear torn jeans and dirty trainers claiming that this is my bum-style which is for now the most actual.
Having survived a tragedy, finding a way out, being the winner, having got a load of lessons that will never proof useful to anyone.
Always being late, forgetting about everything and losing everything as well, looking for the keys in my purse for ages and swearing faintly. Being shy of the word ‘The Spirituality' because of its bombast but secretly meaning myself to be the spiritual person.
Settling at last in India claiming that the thoughts there are more material than in any other place and finally to go there for ever, leaving all my fur-coats to the girls, thinking 'Ah, all of these are just affections, now I am free of it', and after that having come back again, telling everyone that my destiny may be fulfilled only here, in dirty and cold Moscow.
Having found a boyfriend with dreads and socializing with him, smoking weed and meditating, but having left him as all of this is not truth, it's an illusion.
Rushing about for a long time, suffering of the lack of reciprocity and of my aspirations being so much misunderstood.
Finally having found a new boyfriend so much mundane, marry him cause he lives so fairly having got no concoctions and quasi-pursuits, and then blow up his mind suffering of him being so rude and ignorant, as he never accumulates the subtle energies and never reaches the astral when making sex, being satisfied only by carnal pleasures.
Shouting ‘We are totally different, you don’t understand me, you don’t support me in my quests’ but not leaving him cause ‘it's love and probably karma connection'.
Having a child and adopting another one ‘so that the baby will have a mother’ and hanging with them about the retreats and Alpine skiing resorts, dreaming to raise them free people.
And to refine my soul in meditation and being united with the Universe, crying when seeing so beautiful road lights white there and red back, and the people are so nice and they hurt you not because they are evil but just as they don’t know how to do it better.
And I will never die at all but go away to Samadhi reaching the ultimate level of realization.