Не попса, наконец-то

Шалостью бризовой,
Шелестью рисовой
Поговори со мной,
Поговори со мной,
Солнечной, лиственной
Вязью осмысленной
Ну поделись со мной
Тяжкими мыслями,
Темными думами,
Мрачной кручиною
Слушать угрюмыми
Соснами чинными
Буду как рай земной
Под кипарисами
Поумирай со мной,
Поговори со мной,
Слезы повылей чуть -
Я ведь как оттепель,
Я тебя вылечу,
Станет легко тебе,
Будто бы сызнова
Встанешь из пламени,
Только держись меня,
Не оставляй меня.
А коль решишь уйти,
Вот те пророчество
Будешь искать пути,
Да не воротишься.

10th Billion Sphere of Reality

     Which is worse: when your dress smells of cooked bacon, or your breath of sweet onion?

Foodies in the Rain

     Wet, aromatic woods, rain drops, vivid greens. Someone said, "Rain like this makes me hungry." I paused. It felt like sharp, hard cheese-eating weather to me. But I've been a raw vegan for sometime now, why was I thinking of cheese? I then tried imagining what raw foods I might crave in the rain with wet shoes on my feet. And I realized that for me raw foods are for nourishing the body, and cooked foods are comfort for the soul, emotional blankets. I shall watch this for a bit, see where it goes.

photo by Ra!

An alternative to nuts

Bananas and Americans live on the same continent, yet they really don't know each other. It's driving me crazy.

Tara cox

Dude, is that even english?

     I believe to have lost the last grūmus of social skills I used to have. It happened about a year ago, and yes - I did try looking for it. 

     A lot of things have happened in that span of time, and out of fear of not being understood, I simply mirror people; but as I open my mouth, they just keep staring at me, as if waiting for me to finish the sentence, yet I've placed the period seventy-three seconds ago... 

     When I was younger I used to be a great entertainer! People laughed at my jokes. Today? I've lost the art. I also talked a lot. Today? I hum and haw. Maybe in third or fourth grade I had a girl as a best friend. She was somewhat better than me, she thought; she used to initiate the game of "who can stay silent longer" on the walk home from school. She had puffy, white, smooth hands; mine were always cracked and bleeding. She was wiser, of course. Today she lives in China, and we have nothing to talk about. Maybe it's because I've lost all social skills. 

     And so it seems it's easier to find a book to read than someone to talk to. Yet again, as some cool cat had said: "Dialogue is like intercourse - you must first excite the other person into it, otherwise it's forced."  

photo: opengeek.net