Wednesday, 20 March 2013

I inherited some kind of a gift. Or call it a nuisance – talent for seeing things that are not there, or maybe they are but not visible for the human eye. Enter imagination.
So let me introduce you to my coffee reading abilities and I promise you – it will be fun!

I see tree people. They are tall with limbs like cacti, rising from the dark abyss of my unconsciousness. The one on the left is different from the others. Maybe he is the boss. Maybe he has nothing to do with the rest of them. He has a mustache and a strange hat. He smokes a pipe. He is very aristocratic, pensive, waiting, patient. He is not really alive though. I like to think of him as the reason man.
There is a monster between the tree people too. He is tiny, fat and has a huge mouth. He screams very loud because he wants to be taken seriously by the tree people. They don’t care about him. He is too loud, annoying, tantrum driven.
There are stars everywhere. This is a good sign. The complete mess isn’t. The tree people stretch towards the sky, the sun, the beautiful world outside. It seems as if they want to get out of the damned cup, the prison, me. They feel trapped and long for light. Some reach over the boundary and escape.

Moral of the story: I need to make my tree people feel at home or else I will be left alone with the monster and the aristocrat.

I would love to read your coffee. Send me a picture and I will look into it :)

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Sunday, 3 March 2013

I was here a week ago.
And will return.

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Tuesday, 12 February 2013

as a side-note

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Saturday, 9 February 2013

Oh yes yes yes

AND AND AND

*running excited and jumping up and down again*

And it wouldn’t be me if this would not have happened TOO

Typical Cake on the moon ♥

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Thursday, 7 February 2013

Yesterdays effort paid off. Obviously.
The model was super sweet and motivated.
A chocolate assortment was always in reach.
My camera still works.

I think I’m slowly getting into the swing of things again…

Still have to oil some screws but the progress is measurable


Originally the post was named “FUCK OFF I can fly {awesome fashion pictures included}” and meant as a pun for the last comment. But I thought it might be rude. For the models sake. Not my own. I don’t give a damn ;)
Except – maybe I do. Rude language belongs to dark stories and not to pretty pictures :)

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Thursday, 7 February 2013

„There was this woman. Tall, blonde (of course), lovely curved red stained lips with a light spot on the right side. The rest was all necklace, jeans, boots and some abundant baggage in the front, if you know what I mean. She moved easily, lambent curves, soft hips, tight muscles, a dream of a woman. She was heading for the bus when I tipped on her shoulder asking „What’s your name ? (I spare the good dialogues for my screenplays)“
We were married shortly after, moved together, bought a house.
I knew not much of her, but her love-wet skin imprinted on mine was enough. Damn! I was bewitched, craving for her lust delivery, her crawling on my body and doing those things to me…

But you see – she had this black bird – sinister charcoal feathery devil, you know. Annoying fucked-up bird of prey I dare say. Good for nothin’, only ate and crape, flew around messing with the carpets, the sofa and everything else for that matter. My scripts, ideas – forget about it! The table for example was full of chewed pieces of apples, oranges, feathers, chocolate pieces, shit, your name it.
But she wanted it to live free, see the world (that is, at first mainly the house). As a member of the family it had the right to (really?). I tried to reason with her, didn’t help. Eventually I left the window open so the fuck could fly out and meet with other birds and go for a fly or whatever it was it did out there. It returned blood stained and tattered beyond recognition. Only the eyes – hot like fire. His name was Honey. Picture that!

So this asshole of a bird even got to watch us doing it, you know, every time. It was like we were some sort of tv-program, series, reality tv to him, I don’t know. Maybe he secretly ejaculated. I don’t care. At least that’s what I pretended for a long time. Kept me sane.
It was a fucked up script if I ever saw one. The worst – it made those sounds; annoying screaming, pushing sounds like it was him who went about shoving deeper and harder into her, making love, making her blood boil and her eyes gleam. When I stopped annoyed, it fluttered anxiously while going on screaming, agitated. It motivated me, the wild and fucked up inside. To go on and on. As if it wanted me to rub and scratch her apart. It made me mad and totally off-beat!
Gah!
“Don’t mess with my fuck, bird!” I screamed. But no use. The bird had to stay and watch! Cause it was a free bird… Damn-it!
But that was not all.
He had those deep gurgling sounds when my wife enjoyed – you know she had that grin when she felt it coming and her light lip spot just darkened to a crimson. Her face sparkling with wet. Her body shaking. That’s when I knew the bullshit was coming: his gurgle and her spasms, her moans. In pairs. Like lovebirds overlapping. They were quite synchronic and that was the worst.

“For fucks sake! You are not married to him!” I argued but she laughed. An evil, oscillating laugh that rose from the abyss of her belly. Or more from somewhere below. Her parts should have been caged from the beginning. Like she were no blonde at all. Rather a red. Who went around fucking with the zoo.
Sorry! But so disgusting! I could really take it no more.

That’s when things got even worse. Yep. Totally possible. She started seeing people, probably near the zoo; elephants, giraffes just spring into my mind, but of course, it could have been the innocent guy from around the corner who was just delivering pizza or trying to make a decent living.

But I had to agree, there was no other way if I wanted to keep her. The bird was banned and vanished from our sex life, but also was my wife. At least for most of the time. The in-betweens (whatever wherever whomever she performed the rest with, I still don’t know) were shared with me.
I’m a lucky guy!

Time passed and so did my patience.
She started skipping evenings (came home late at night), skipping days (arrived on Wednesday after she left Monday morning) and then, one time, she was away for more than two weeks.
That got me thinking and I’m absolutely not a thinking guy. More of a writer. The stuff flows directly from my synapses onto paper, so I avoid starting this exhausting machine in the upper body part.

I bought a detective kit and followed her around. She really got to see the world! And mostly, the dark places. There she went inside one building and didn’t come out again. Ever. Or at least for the next nine hours I waited outside.

“Baby you know, I’m in social welfare! I have to help people, especially the miserable ones.” So she argued. And whenever I wanted to disagree, she approached and …well, she knew how to shut me up, that’s for sure. With the bird off to where she exiled him, I even enjoyed it again. Hot stuff. Not like before, but well, one had to be content.

The incident that brought me here was the last one (obviously).
What evil woman it was! I saw it all! Bird feathers all over the goddamn place. Sinister, scary, abandoned factory building. Metal sticking out from every possible surface. Windows broken, glass all over. And, there, in the middle, in between the black feather mess and tiny bird bowels, my wife. Blood all over. Feathers. She had a fucking good time – and imagine! With only one guy.

I tried to calm down, pace, reflect. But sure! Who the hell can! Could!

“Who’s that I asked?”
“My future husband!”

I felt rage, incredible anger. She wasn’t even ashamed and he for that matter too. Was this fun? A way of living? Was this mess a cozy, comfortable home?

They just stood up, as though nothing special had happened, facing me, naked. She shook her hair and bound it to a bun. He went to get his cloths from god knows where he left them. (in the gutter? And what for?)

“It’s not your world, I know” she said. So soft and tender. But that evil underneath! I could feel it. Slapping me. In my face.

Then I saw her Honey, a little offset, making gurgling sounds, my wife now grinning diabolic, even blushing.
Enough!
I sprang towards her, pushed my body into hers, violently, ravishing. Everything I had should fit in her. Right now. My arms around her neck.
I strangled her. The bird went crazy but I didn’t care. Flew around, screamed and hissed.
I felt a smack. The back of my head. New husband must have knocked me down! Probably. Because I reckon I’m dead now.”

There was a pause. I closed my eyes and inhaled nothing.

„So what do you think of it all?“ I asked the devil, who was sitting there, yoga posture on hot charcoals; he was intent upon me, piercingly, like a bird of prey. Yes, I saw it. Clearly. That was his very essence!
And he laughed an evil grin, then stopped and reasoned:
„Well, that must have been my wife!“

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Tuesday, 5 February 2013

in case anybody wondered. what it looks like inside of me.
what it feels like
a mirror

this is my night. my dreams. reality creeping in. other people.

There is need for a chocolate soaked bun.

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