მე ყველა ღმერთკაცი მიყვარს. და ეს მე უფრო რელიგიურს მხდის ვიდრე ქაშუეთის მრევლს. მე ჩემი თავის ღმერთი ვარ რომელსაც შია.
მე არ ვარ ღარიბი და რა თქმა უნდა მთრგუნავს ის რომ ღარიბი ვარ. ყველაფერი მაქვს არსებობისთვის. საოცარია სხეული როგორ არის ბუნებაზე მორგებული, ...ყველაფერს უძლებს, უბრალოდ ვერ ეჩვევა. მკერდს ვუშვერ ცხოვრებას. ...მაინც რა პარატა და ჯიუტი ვარ.
მე მკვრივი სუბსტანცია ვარ, მაგრამ არა მყარი.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
I’m a free spirit.
My life is being like a childhood nightmare of mine_ I’m running like hell but can’t even make a step forward.
I’m a free spirit.
I’m on top of the world, I laugh at the misery of the world people have created, while in truth I doubtlessly need the people so that I exist.
I’m a free spirit.
Failure has never been so encouraging for me like it happened to be yesterday.
...
This stupid fly! it’s winter for God’s sake. cold! freezing! flies should not be out! what the hell is this stupid one smashing itself against this old dirty window for?! I grab my blanket that carelessly had given my body up while I was unconsciously traveling in my dreams, and cover my face with it. God! this goddamn annoying fly again. I wake up. it’s 8:51. every single fricking morning I open my eyes and the clock tells me it’s 8:51 am. yea, what the hell.
I shiver as I step on the cold floor. should I be mad at God because he created flies? my eyelids are swearing at me as I try to separate them, so with these half closed (or half open) eyes I head into the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. I’m cold. These goose bumps make me shrink. I’m awake. I log into yahoo messenger through my cell phone as I my morning coffee warms my veins. . . . “sweet dreams darling”. “sweet dreams, dearest.” God, I love this man!
a phone call from my mother_ “Sophie, write down the code!” and I write 5 digits on my wall with a fading pencil. “you should be able to pick it up at any bank”. I loath myself in that instant. “thank you mother”.
Bitter wind freezes my palms. ok, this bank is closed. I’m trying to unzip my purse and put the paper I’ve put that code on into its pocket. . . and this hyper wind grabs it right from my hands. I smile and follow my three day’s food. . . .I got it! I look up at the busy morning sky “feel like playing with me, huh?”
Yea, I’m lucky. this bus is fricking crowded! I feel blood boiling up in my head and my forehead is getting sweaty. ..this is anger! and this man right next to me is pushing his fat stomach closer to me. God he smells! I get off and change the bus. I’m sitting by the window now. at the next stop an old lady gets in and sits next to me. she reminds me of my grandma, only this lady’s face is . . .kind of melancholy. . . .I miss my grandma. “cancer cancer cancer cancer cancer” “stop it”. I shake my head to shrug the drowning thoughts away and heads turn at me for a second. “what? I only shook my head! and what would you do if I made love in front of you? aw these soviet leftovers!” I’m there. I smile at the lady and get off.
“well. . . .we got the answers yesterday and we called everyone. so we didn’t call you did we?” I smile. my tone is calm as I talk. “your lastname is. . . hmmm, let’s see!” click. click click click. “nope. not in the list”. I smile looking straight into her colorless eyes telling me "now get outta here!" _ ‘can you at list pretend that faceless pot is smiling just a little bit? I could teach you how to smile!’ “all right. thank you very much.”
I walk towards my university building. wow, these people! “privilege was given to people who’ve never been outside of Georgia before!” that makes me smile. I’m facing post soviet “Bo monde”. God, that kills me. I fricking love my fiancé! the thought of him makes me shiver. and then I start to wonder if I’d be as strong if he were holding my hand right now as I am at the thought that he is somewhere out there. ...I don’t know. no, I do know. I'd be so much str... oh I almost missed the turn. I take a turn right and I’m into the building. “oh honey, I barely recognized you.” …what the fuck gives you a right to call me that? “oh well, I guess people change …amazing how quickly that happens” _was my answer. God, this woman gets onto my nerves. I despise her. I light up a cigarette and listen to her telling me how much physically disabled kids at her school miss “that 20 year old student with curly hair and bright smile”. I love kids. I’ll be such a good mother. “yea, I wanna come see them these days. tell them I say hi and that I do think of them”.
“why haven’t you been picking up the phone?”_ his beard scratched my cheek. “I failed in that program”. pause. “When do you wanna realize it’s GEORGIA? silly. It’s just a discouraging fact that they won’t appreciate who you are. they don’t wanna see you. it’s not in their plan. . . greedy bustards!” I smoke again, looking out through the window _“yeah”. I’m a free spirit. only I feel like I failed my fiancé. that’s what’s bugging me. . . .I love you. It’s not the end. “some beer?” I let go my thoughts for a second “uhm, sure”. ...what would Kevin feel in the moments like this? “so, I was talking to this guy in MSN last night and . . .” his voice is getting low, too low, . . .way too low. “bluuuuhhhh, bluuuuhhhhh.” I shake my head. “and at the end he tells me he tells me he IS the son of that Georgian novelist I was swearing at” I laugh_ “you’re so stupid”. “I know. hell that was awkward”. the room starts spinning. I guess I’m still little sick. …I’m ok. you’re ok you silly girl. . . . my fingers through Kevin’s hair, hot sand beneath my toes, ocean moans, his eyes_ cold and devouring, every cell of mine has that unique code that in letters would be “Kevin Arther Yerke”, lightning and traffic on this street I’m crossing.
Love of my life.
It's not the end.
I am living. I'll make myslef do it as a healthy person.
I have wings.
...I'm a free spirit.
life is good.
My life is being like a childhood nightmare of mine_ I’m running like hell but can’t even make a step forward.
I’m a free spirit.
I’m on top of the world, I laugh at the misery of the world people have created, while in truth I doubtlessly need the people so that I exist.
I’m a free spirit.
Failure has never been so encouraging for me like it happened to be yesterday.
...
This stupid fly! it’s winter for God’s sake. cold! freezing! flies should not be out! what the hell is this stupid one smashing itself against this old dirty window for?! I grab my blanket that carelessly had given my body up while I was unconsciously traveling in my dreams, and cover my face with it. God! this goddamn annoying fly again. I wake up. it’s 8:51. every single fricking morning I open my eyes and the clock tells me it’s 8:51 am. yea, what the hell.
I shiver as I step on the cold floor. should I be mad at God because he created flies? my eyelids are swearing at me as I try to separate them, so with these half closed (or half open) eyes I head into the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. I’m cold. These goose bumps make me shrink. I’m awake. I log into yahoo messenger through my cell phone as I my morning coffee warms my veins. . . . “sweet dreams darling”. “sweet dreams, dearest.” God, I love this man!
a phone call from my mother_ “Sophie, write down the code!” and I write 5 digits on my wall with a fading pencil. “you should be able to pick it up at any bank”. I loath myself in that instant. “thank you mother”.
Bitter wind freezes my palms. ok, this bank is closed. I’m trying to unzip my purse and put the paper I’ve put that code on into its pocket. . . and this hyper wind grabs it right from my hands. I smile and follow my three day’s food. . . .I got it! I look up at the busy morning sky “feel like playing with me, huh?”
Yea, I’m lucky. this bus is fricking crowded! I feel blood boiling up in my head and my forehead is getting sweaty. ..this is anger! and this man right next to me is pushing his fat stomach closer to me. God he smells! I get off and change the bus. I’m sitting by the window now. at the next stop an old lady gets in and sits next to me. she reminds me of my grandma, only this lady’s face is . . .kind of melancholy. . . .I miss my grandma. “cancer cancer cancer cancer cancer” “stop it”. I shake my head to shrug the drowning thoughts away and heads turn at me for a second. “what? I only shook my head! and what would you do if I made love in front of you? aw these soviet leftovers!” I’m there. I smile at the lady and get off.
“well. . . .we got the answers yesterday and we called everyone. so we didn’t call you did we?” I smile. my tone is calm as I talk. “your lastname is. . . hmmm, let’s see!” click. click click click. “nope. not in the list”. I smile looking straight into her colorless eyes telling me "now get outta here!" _ ‘can you at list pretend that faceless pot is smiling just a little bit? I could teach you how to smile!’ “all right. thank you very much.”
I walk towards my university building. wow, these people! “privilege was given to people who’ve never been outside of Georgia before!” that makes me smile. I’m facing post soviet “Bo monde”. God, that kills me. I fricking love my fiancé! the thought of him makes me shiver. and then I start to wonder if I’d be as strong if he were holding my hand right now as I am at the thought that he is somewhere out there. ...I don’t know. no, I do know. I'd be so much str... oh I almost missed the turn. I take a turn right and I’m into the building. “oh honey, I barely recognized you.” …what the fuck gives you a right to call me that? “oh well, I guess people change …amazing how quickly that happens” _was my answer. God, this woman gets onto my nerves. I despise her. I light up a cigarette and listen to her telling me how much physically disabled kids at her school miss “that 20 year old student with curly hair and bright smile”. I love kids. I’ll be such a good mother. “yea, I wanna come see them these days. tell them I say hi and that I do think of them”.
“why haven’t you been picking up the phone?”_ his beard scratched my cheek. “I failed in that program”. pause. “When do you wanna realize it’s GEORGIA? silly. It’s just a discouraging fact that they won’t appreciate who you are. they don’t wanna see you. it’s not in their plan. . . greedy bustards!” I smoke again, looking out through the window _“yeah”. I’m a free spirit. only I feel like I failed my fiancé. that’s what’s bugging me. . . .I love you. It’s not the end. “some beer?” I let go my thoughts for a second “uhm, sure”. ...what would Kevin feel in the moments like this? “so, I was talking to this guy in MSN last night and . . .” his voice is getting low, too low, . . .way too low. “bluuuuhhhh, bluuuuhhhhh.” I shake my head. “and at the end he tells me he tells me he IS the son of that Georgian novelist I was swearing at” I laugh_ “you’re so stupid”. “I know. hell that was awkward”. the room starts spinning. I guess I’m still little sick. …I’m ok. you’re ok you silly girl. . . . my fingers through Kevin’s hair, hot sand beneath my toes, ocean moans, his eyes_ cold and devouring, every cell of mine has that unique code that in letters would be “Kevin Arther Yerke”, lightning and traffic on this street I’m crossing.
Love of my life.
It's not the end.
I am living. I'll make myslef do it as a healthy person.
I have wings.
...I'm a free spirit.
life is good.
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