wheat grass juice

I just drank something that is called the wheat grass juice and... am about to be sick.

"What is a power shot of wheat grass juice", you might ask?
"It's the freshly-squeezed juice from young wheat which provides the same benefit as eating a two-pound salad", I might answer.
"Plus, it helps to increase the body's stamina, aids digestion, reduces cravings for addictive substances, improves fertility, makes bowel movements regular and eases every physical and mental ailment you may have."

How cool, but why does it make me heave???? But hey, since I'm all for increased stamina and regular bowel movements, I guess I'll go in for another shot tomorrow.

It just seems to get colder and colder in this damn country and this damn city. I walked a hundred blocks down to Christopher street and back on Sunday - on all the east side avenues and Broadway. It made me contemplate buying a face mask, the one that makes you look like a moron.

Right this moment..., today this town is not doing it for me.

52 and counting

aren't you glad?

Another day, another sunset to die for.
And as I am yet to pour my first drink I can honestly say that I've been effective and efficient today.

Oh...there's something that cracks me up.
Have you seen the toilet tissue and holders in public toilets that say:
"Katrin - The less is more..."
Pardon, but.... less of what is more?... Slogans that make absolutely no sense.

We've got ones here at work that say......."Aren't you glad you use Dial?"
What??? Aren't I glad I'm using Dial? Wait. What. What the what?!
...jay-sus...

glowing red

For seven years I've been wishing my life away. For seven years I have been living for a moment in future.
Hours and days and months do not matter for as long as I get through them to...
do whatever it is that I'm so looking forward to do...

I mark my calendar and nothing else matters. It's hard and above all - wasteful.
I'm doing it again.

I moved into my apartment over the weekend.
For two days I cleaned and scrubbed.
I found a dead cockroach on my bedroom floor.
Seriously, an awkward situation - I'm scared to death of cockroaches.

I also made mental note of the local licquer store being closed on Sundays - you know...it's good to know.

Currently...
I'm enjoying a glass of wine and a million dollar sunset over the highrises...
There are stars in my sky
And the planes that come in like UFO's
The Empire State is glowing red tonight...

desolate places

For the time being taking the regular scheduling to NYC, USA

Still jetlagged I sit in my office, eat my lunch and stare out the window. I tower over lower Manhattan. I can see into your bedroom... Honestly, I can.
I dont appreciate this city. I dont appreciate the daily commute that takes me right past the Empire State Building - twice.

This town breaks my heart in every possible way ten times over. And over and over. Do you know that every night I go to bed with your photo and every morning I tell it that I love you? I hardly ever tell you of the pain. I just spent the two most amazing weeks with you.
Instead I feel hungry all the time...

And then there's the snow, and the cold and my apartment that looks over many other things but other than that is not really that nice...

So is this really it? What am I doing it for? Can I please go home now.

mu martina

Kallis T*, homme lähed jooksed muruväljakul kikivarvul ringi ja vehid reketiga siuhh ja säuhh. Kollaseid palle. Peapael peas ja randmepael randme ümber. Mu Martina.

left turn, right turn

It started raining at the intersection by the shopping centre. Where the really slow van was crawling in front of me so that I had to run a red light.

I switched my wipers onto a faster pace and watched them slow down as the car came to a halt. I watched the pace picking up again as the light turned green.

It stopped raining by the time I got to the next intersection.

Left turn, right turn, past the hotel, up the street, dodging the cars entering the public parkinglot. You sprang into my mind, and I found myself thinking... "Jeeesus, I just dont care. I just can't care that much."

Must be that I'm not a morning person...?

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