tirsdag den 15. maj 2018

I no longer dream about the end of the world, but of something stranger still; I dream that everything is well. 

torsdag den 26. april 2018

by Marta Sokołowska, martaso.carbonmade.com/

onsdag den 25. april 2018

A lot of us are only pretending. The truth is, once society became this patriarchal, there wasn't room for most men in it any longer. The military ranks have been reallocated and renamed a number of times. Currently the fourth link in the chain of command on any given ship in the Navy is Future Hero because there just isn't enough decorated officers left. The higher ups are constantly seeking to rid themselves of their rivals; thinking that, in theory, only the most powerful opponents are a threat, but quickly realizing that as soon as they've emptied a seat someone else is already shuffling to fill it. So, this island nation of ours has become a society of the old, the weak, and of women dressed as men in constant fear of awakening the jealous wrath of their superiors, but in greater fear of the farms we would otherwise have to live out our lives on. Led toward the final night of the nations by strong leaders, ultimate alphas, who are physically incapable of thinking of anything but their own glory in any given moment. The waters are waiting darkly, and I grab your hand, smiling warmly as we hide together in plain sight, hoping to wait out even this.

- dream of a flooded, global Pan-America governed by military forces and men who have become almost like animals after the spread of some testosterone-boosting disease.


tirsdag den 17. april 2018

mandag den 16. april 2018

We'd been wandering for a long time when we arrived here, to the After. Nothing ever ends up here unless it's already happened, and we've constructed a hut for ourselves out of broken glasses (they cut, but they shine prettily where the light is let through) and things-we-once-hoped. I've been trying to sleep at night. It was one of the things I could never do in the Before. But I still have trouble. You, however, have adventurous, colourful dreams. I wonder if you realize where we are. 

mandag den 9. april 2018

Choose your own adventure: The Relationship Game

Distraction
After the 5 hour argument you go out to do some shopping. You’re still hungover. For some reason or other you don’t see the car approaching until you're halfway across the street, but suddenly it’s roaring towards you at 200 an hour. It’s swaying, like the driver can’t decide what to do.
  • Stop dead in your tracks, hoping that the car will have time to move out of its trajectory towards you. [the car is too close to you to avoid hitting you as you are standing there, frozen, in the middle of the street. The impact kills you. Not instantly, but close enough. You never get to say goodbye but at least you were thinking of him when it happened. Game over.] 
  • Run forward, in the same direction you were walking. [you narrowly escape the horrible collision to find yourself panting on the sidewalk, a kind pedestrian asking “are you okay? That guy drove really fast!”] 
  • Run back in the direction you came from. [get hit by another car and cause a series of crashes as you are still in traffic and several cars are approaching on this side of the street after the light has switched further up]

fredag den 30. marts 2018

Pass through

I was sent to Hell because I was tricked by one of the others doing the test. We were a whole group questing together, trying to solve the mysteries of equals and seperates. If you did it wrong, you died. But as happens - often, he tells me - one forgets the details once below. I remember a garden and hollyhocks, and I remember kissing someone. I asked the god of Death, when I arrived, whether I could wait for someone I knew. He told me I would have to travel through first. Now I no longer remember who I wanted to wait for. I think there were several people in my life who were special in that way. But the air was pleasant that day in the garden, and the one who tricked me had felt like a friend. A woman, I think she was.

First it was complete darkness. Then things appeared. Different rooms I had once inhabited in one way or other which I will now walk through. How ever long that takes.
There was a baby. We sit together in the bathtub and the baby is laughing. He is so fat and happy. Then he is below the water and there is a tear in the world. We sit by the window. Baby is happy, and we are cuddling him. Then he drops him, just like that. I guess I'm supposed to figure out why. Or to accept it before the rooms will start being about other things.
I feel pain down here when I touch the smoldering iron doors that sometimes appear. It doesn't hurt me though I try to avoid it. It's just something to pass through. 

fredag den 23. marts 2018

Rituals

I want to lead you to a clearing in the woods, and light a fire made of stuff outside of History with fireflies and jumping sparks and smoke that smells of pine. I want to dance together in a broken circle, more than memories, becoming moment, glee, and sounds in fleshy forms.

I want to be alone.

I want champagne.

pain.

We walked into the cold sauna together, and the elevator makes sounds, a sort of low humn, as it carries us through the belly of the building, and you often taste like smoke and sugar, too much; I remember how high you'd drive me, surrounded by stars, I've tried nothing else like it. You were the only one alive in a room filled with the dead, they were dancing, I was deep inside you.

It's funny how I finally really like myself while you are hating me. Little mice running for their lives, running from the Master. I cannot do it. I cannot do it. I cannot do it. I did it. I was free. I was my own night sky. Wearing white roses in my hair, and how much I am needed. It's as the prophesies foretold. Remember?

Running water and the sound is always somewhere in the background.

Le olam. The whole world is possessed. 

tirsdag den 20. marts 2018

I have been so loved the last 10 days that if I am never loved again, it would almost seem reasonable.

fredag den 9. marts 2018

Inspiration for the coming days:

paintings by Albert von Keller

torsdag den 8. marts 2018

Let the record show

The first months of 2018 was a time when life almost fell into place, and all that was good was just within reach. Slippery promises of okay, soon to be lost.