soldiers, diplomats, politicians

you know when they say that:

the soldiers die for their countries
the diplomats lie for their countries
the politicians dine for their countries

... they're too damn right...

most of the time

Most of the time I am cynical and bitter. Most of the time I laugh like a rugged person. Most of the time my voice is hoarse and broken. Most of the time I am reckless and self-destructive. Most of the time I find it hard to see beauty in the birds. Most of the time I don't like the person that I am becoming.

If you could give back one wrong, what would it be?

nyc, nyc

I got into a cab in New York City. On the corner of 42th and 8th Ave, and felt safe.
Fresh off the bus that had taken me across the continent. It took me days to get here.

We're going uptown, **E between the 5th and Madison.

I got in the cab and leaned my head against the seat, and saw the town slip by, welcoming me, wrapping it's arms around me, engulfing me.

"Welcome back, have fun!"

"Why, thank you. I always do."

Central Park - we cross over. Windows open, I take in that something that is New York's afternoon, brilliant sunshine and distinct odour... Slightly discoloured leaves of the pre-Halloween day...

I want to keep driving, I think of darkness and life and how entirely different the city looks each time I visit. I think of money, I keep wishing it would strech. Further. Just so that we could keep on driving.

I close my eyes and enjoy each second of the ride, the traffic jams, policemen on horses and my Indian driver.

New York, I miss you!

mister t* and me

Mr. T* and me...
... ventured up and down and accross the town getting in and out of taxies, discussing life, death and smear tests. All the while the storm kept on twisting and the snow kept on twirling so that you could not see the end or the start of things. And the lines between space and time became increasingly blurry as the drinks kept coming and more words were spurted and sms were sent. Ahh, life!

Mr. Jones and me tell each other fairy tales. Stare at the beautiful women "She's looking at you. Ah no, no, she's looking at me." (counting crows)

achingly beautiful

how would it feel to actually be that achingly beautiful

what would it be like to be adored. to lazily move my hips to form the sexiest walk ever to be seen

how would it feel to know that kind of shrewdness in my 23 years, fair hair and a killer smile

and just to be, you know... achingly beautiful...

opportunity

Listen Eminem, the opportunity does not only present itself once in a lifetime, it presents itself right at the moment youre not in a position to do anything about it. Um...just an observation.

over and out

columbia

I ache all over from too much livin' and killer snowboarding slopes and spaceshuttles falling from the skies.

"call police to declare spaceshuttle debris" - see that just breaks my heart