Archive for February, 2015

Faded life.

Posted: 2015-02-28 in Uncategorized

Said the underwear model to the man-child:

Hey, haven’t you got a shirt just like that guy in the movie? Maybe if you wore it more you’d have a blond hanging off you too.

Yeah, but it’s kinda faded, the shirt.

So, would a faded blond be so bad?

The answer?

Posted: 2015-02-28 in Uncategorized

The answer to the question? Well, it depends on who’s doing the asking, and when the question is posed.

Time, perspective. People, perspective. Situation, perspective.

Tomorrow the question will be irrelevant, so why should I waste my time, energy and mentality by trying to answer the complexity today?

They say talk is cheap, but to me words are expensive and each one I utter costs an immensity.

Jaded, I sound weary, no doubt. So, excite me… 

Team JP.

Posted: 2015-02-26 in Uncategorized

Preacher man’s on his soapbox, again. Preaching love and grace on one hand, cloaked hate and fear on the other. He’s talking once again about “end times prophecy”. And Russia being the ogre, Israel the victim, the believers carried away in rapture. The same shit recycled from the days of the USSR and the Cold War.

GET A GRIP!

Look at reality. Only the USA, perhaps, equals Russia for the ardour of it’s Christian believers. … Have you ever beheld?

As a Ukrainian, I have little friendship left for the Russian state today. But somehow these bullshit tele-evangelist *oh-so-human* proclamations dig deep into my spirit and fill me with righteous indignation. I remember the ardour and belief and faith of my (former) comrades… (like we aren’t still the same in your eyes).

So, get with it, Americans, Singaporeans, whoever. Try to get some understanding before you sling mud. After all, a lot of places are north of Jerusalem.

Statuesque.

Posted: 2015-02-25 in Uncategorized

Statuesque. Yes, that’s the way she would describe him: a vision of what statues should look like (to be worth the effort of chiseling the stone). A perfect decathlete indeed, versatile (she could imagine!); strong yet lithe; big somehow, yet somewhat slender and sinewy at the same time. Immensely satisfying to watch now, showering, washing sweat and impurities away from the skin, cleansing himself after the sauna, cold water (purist!) on full blast.

Feeling life (she watches his hand as it glides over the flesh – she imagines her own doing the same), she is still in the dark cabin, sweating. Strange, that the window has a full-on view of the oh-so brightly lit forward-facing showers. Stranger still, that he has chosen to use one of these showers instead of the others which are discretely off to the side (they even have doors!).

He steps out, grabs his towel, dries off (again rubbing himself!) and disappears from view, no doubt to get dressed and go to his room.

She hopes and begs in almost penitent prayers that he will be back again tomorrow, same time and place. She will speak then, engage somehow (oh, Lord, what to say?). Either that, or she will arrive earlier and take a shower *before* him.

In her mind’s eye, here and now. Tomorrow, we will see.

Night-time “dream-life” is way unreliable. Day-dreaming in silent, steaming cabins is way better.

Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were one of my countrymen, a compatriot, someone to cheer on, to support in a foreign land.

Then I learned that you’re an “old boy” of la-di-da Grammar School, back home.

And the affinity is instantly broken.

We aren’t from the same country (land) (reality) after all…

My experience is nothing like yours.

I have much more in common with another from the periphery in another realm, even if our languages (or national anthems) don’t match.

So, forgive me as I leave the stadium early, disillusioned and haunted by demons of the past. You will hear my cheering no more.

It’s all about money.

Posted: 2015-02-23 in Uncategorized

It’s all about money.

Everything.

TV, adverts, the general vibe of society.

Sports: winners make more, 2nd place gets a little less; place a bet and win!

Our work lives in the labor market. We give of ourselves so that we can provide for our family (or whatever), so we can eat, and sleep comfortably (hopefully) and grow.

We are entwined with the mythical market.

Buy & sell, sell, sell!

Sell enough and you can buy, buy, buy!

Satisfy your lust in a non-sexual, wholesome way – go on, do it, your country expects (and needs your economic activity to derive tax dollars to go spend on another war).

Earn, spend, blend (into the crowd).

Speculate to accumulate, acquire, greed.

Running to stand still. Earn to burn. Burning the candle at both ends, working three shitty jobs just to provide enough for your family to survive (kinda). While others bathe in champagne and piss in front of their maids (making sure they splash-back).

Madness in frenetic NYC, world-wide addiction. Money to burn. Calories to scoff. Get fat and buy this share at exactly the right time, then sell just before it emerges that the company used child labor, with whips.

Non-stop action on the market – this capitalist ball some call Earth.

Tiresome and hollow. The greedier ones have the most to lose.

It all makes me want to opt out and take a break, kick-back and watch some TV for light entertainment. And, shit, what gets rammed down my throat? … *Money*, you need it, sell your soul and you can get it! For only 1000% interest we can kindly advance you $1000, the rest is up to you…

And I thought the age of slavery was gone.

Sigh.

After spewing my dinner into the can, feeling ill, feeling poisoned, somehow, I can now understand that much of people’s ill health comes from what they put in their mouths, food more so than drink. 

And then there are words, probably more powerful and potentially poisonous than any other substance on the planet. 

People: what goes into their mouths is toxic.

People: what comes out of their mouths is toxic.

People: what they hear coming out of other’s mouths is toxic.

No wonder I winced, squirmed and flat-out said “NO” when that guy wanted to put himself in my mouth.

*Gad!*

If you’re so tired then why don’t you just go to bed?

If you’re so tired of your life, then why don’t you just get another one?

If you’re so tired of your life, then why don’t you just make another one?

If you’re so tired, then why don’t you just go to bed with me?

Let’s sleep together.

Expel the invaders.

Posted: 2015-02-20 in Man-child

Burning up, then feeling chilled to the marrow, then I can’t breathe, then I’m gagging, then I’m gone.

The man-child ate eagerly, though taking care to savor each mouthful. He wanted to enjoy, and he was enjoying the feast. He even had the discipline to leave some behind. Only later, in agony, did he realize he had taken in too much. Indeed, it went beyond “just” being full, something had gone sour, rotten in the state of Denmark, one might say.

The man-child sees the crowd shots from Minsk and is struck.

Wow, so many young women, all so attractive, and not overweight!

As if the action on the snow isn’t enough…

What a shop window these Youth/Junior Worlds Champs are!

I must get me to Belarus!