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The words that I feel should be written down always come out at the most inopportune of moments like, for example, while bathing or riding a bus when on top of feeling sick, I’ve forgotten to pack my notebook and pens. I think that what should have been written down during those six months of silence, perhaps, is safer being locked up in my head ( Read more... )

I have never thought that shirking duties is a matter of great skill. One has to be fully equipped with 'No, mum, I'm not watching dramas, I'm studying'-those-kind-of-stories creating appliance to properly operate during Christmas time. Actually, I'm somewhere between being mentally handicapped by the fact that I'm not cramming anything new into my ( Read more... )

'Your note this time should have a happy feeling to it, child, you are always so moody it's unbecoming,'  the bug in my brain suggested out of the blue.

'What do you mean, you nasty little bugger, it's unbecoming?' I asked very (and not necessarily positively) surprised.

'Ah, the thing about writers is to entertain in a way that was chosen for them ( Read more... )

Snow is long gone.  Or should I say on account of others who despise it, 'thank goodness, I, too, almost felt the headache approching at the wretched sight of white everywhere'. But I won't, no, not this time. Not ever, I suppose. Instead, we have gray in wide range of shades. We have more gray than ever this year. What with being locked up in a ( Read more... )

'Welcome to the place of no possibilities,' I thought as I drove into my hometown. I guessed that again it would presumably take two weeks of non-doing to get a grip and escape the place. Again. Well, yes, of course, I had hoped (before the wheels of an awfully-smelling bus touched the ground of my birthplace) that something would be different this ( Read more... )

I love reading books at loud when nobody is around. I sit on a kitchen counter waiting for water to boil and I read. I change voices and I do these quirky things with my mouth and tongue to sound strange and also, hard as I may try (but fail), male. Often, my books would be written in English because they are just more... easier for me to read at ( Read more... )

It was a gamble, I must say, to start studying two subjects at once. I thought I might fall in the process or at least catch some uncurable disease with symptoms such as vomiting nervousness, rash from being overstressed, menal deterioration from lack of sleep and rest. It is not so bad, after all. The more I do, the better I feel (which is kind of ( Read more... )

I dwell in my random obsessions. It has become too addictive a feeling to let it just slide away. My obsessions are fleeting, almost ephemeral. I am quite confused, most of the time, about how intensive the feeling of need can be.

Although I am all against running, jogging to be precise, I run every day, forward, to feel this peculiar tightening in ( Read more... )

Someone poured a bucket of cold, grey water from the skies and it painted our windows in ash-coloured patterns.
I look for simple metaphors to describe dirt and mud that sticks resolutely to the glass between four white (or rather white-ish) frames. Smoke is grey too although, it is spiralling upwards and blending into winter sky that looks exactly ( Read more... )