copyright 2020

"Since the week my heart was stolen"
I started to steal bits and pieces around and about London
In bookshops, stores, random places, coffee shops, toilets.
I stole a rug bag, we stole it together?
We sealed a story in the bag and tossed it, I lost it?
And all the buttons we bought for few pennies? Where did we put them?
Anway, my heart was stolen and I am feeling lonely, when are we meeting? How many days are there from now until the seventh? How many hour is the wait? How many seconds, minutes do you need to unbutton all the buttons on you? How long do you need to unbutton mine and take off my cloth?

"What story is left to be told?"
Either the heroine and the hero after overcome all the obstacles they get married or they die.

"We always wanted to go back"
in time
in place
going in
into time into space
into you

"What is life?Life is like running"
Running somewhere
Running all the time
Can't stop running

"Magpie poem"
We saw seven
Got off the train
We saw again
Nine for a kiss
Ten for another

"Try to remember who you are"
Try to remember the time
When you love me
You look at me
Like you are seeing stars
From the sky
And I can count them
In the blinking lights
Try to remember your kiss
When it is so gentle
So urgent
Here and now
I remember
The tears tasted like sea salt

Try to remember
you are the wind
I am the bird gliding
In your arms

Try to remember your smile
in me
trying to
while you are fading
away from me
like wind
Before I fail to glide

"A lonely trip"
In the rooms so empty
so small
you wouldn't get snugly
it's a lonely trip
in the rooms so empty
so quiet
nothing is ready to be opened
its a lonely trip
try measuring with masking tape
Loose all traces of edges and counts
In the rooms so empty
so sad
while you are asleep
In a lonely trip.

Practicing to love, loving you, knowing how to love you, in love with you

"Pull out all the strength in the morning"
when you leave
say to you
I love you,
And have a good day.

"Do you really love me?"
Is there any things I do that you love?
I think...loving you and loving the things that you do
are two different things.
The things that you do are like stars in the night, telling me there is the sky.
The sky is you.

New Units for Time-measuring

Every step is a year.
Some years you skip, leap, trip.
Some years you crawl and cry.
Some years you are fast.
Some years you linger.
And some years you are in love.
You walk past it. Then walk back to it.
To check the steps you took along the way.
Did you skip? Did you trip? Or did you miss one?

Nell is a young woman that lives inside me.

Sometimes she’s up, feeling like a kid that was grown down from a woman, thinking about...

sometimes she’s activated through certain pornographic images...
(Getting curious and getting over about sex is part of her identity)
She first communicated with me when I was 8, maybe 9, with an irresistible urge to try on her mom’s swimsuit.

It felt weirdly satisfying for me, watching her 9year old body wrapped in elastic female swimmer’s garment engineered to identify her sex.

Her sex yes. And it never feels weird for me to share this body with her. It has all the pros and cons of...

And you are not sure if this is real, like fuck am I still dreaming or am I fucking awake...

Tonight I have a sad thought, that people you know might turn into zombies. But I guess there weren’t much difference before and after they turn into zombies because they were already half dead with broken circuits.
I think what films are really about is not each individual story or script. It is more about what’s between films, maybe, particularly between an actress’ different films...or a director’s different films, from that point onward, life begins and story ends.


Hailing/thunderstorms in Jupiter
Jupiter’s poles /vangogh
Hydrogen becomes metal
Liquid metal giant
Blinding Aurora


It’s one of those epiphanic moments. You realize you are undoubtedly getting older, time is running, and it’s running out and away, should I do this or should I do that? And you understand that you can only have one but the other. Which one? You ask yourself knowing the fact that you don’t really have a choice, choice chooses. And you simply adapt. Perhaps when you were younger there were real choices, and it’s just too late when you realize they were real.

Love poem to yourself
My heart was broken, so I grew another one made out of ice. It will not break, only just melt.

My plants died from too much water, so I planted another one made out of dead twigs. It will not grow, only just sticks.


I was like, where is my travel destination next, and when? Then I realized the journey never stops, and I’ve been traveling all this time.

I think cups are actually very intimate objects(ceramic ones of course)

The moment your lips touch the edge of a cup, and the way you exchange fluid with the liquid contained by a cup.

Some cups leave certain mark on you. Some cups hold certain liquid for you.
Some cups allow you to kiss them, some don’t.

Today I drank from a new cup I bought last Saturday, it’s eerie that there are teeth on the edge of the cup(I discovered it while sipping oolong tea) .
And when I drank from the spot where the teeth are, It felt like I was having an affair with the person who made it.


I am so wet. It’s dripping. *55
(Spraying water), with guitar sound
Legs shot, sprinkles!

Please don’t cum please don’t cum
Hold it hold it for another year
(Not whisper/Whispers*99)
Object of together ness, please do not cum, yet!
Hold it, hold it for another year
Was watching Sarah Silverman on jimmy live, and suddenly have this epiphany that you could really get old, and feeling that life has passed, and you have been through all those things, met people who you met and all that, thinking it was fate and all that, and realized you are now 50,
I guess I have an instinctual understanding for what it’s like, I wouldn’t say it’s a calling, maybe more like a fight, a swim up-stream, there is something that just hits me in the soul when seeing someone laughing off life, and I just thought to myself that yeah, it is beautiful. Life is. And I am getting so much age on my heart.I am excited to see it unfold, and ready to face anything. It’s a dance. And it will be a beautiful one. It has to.

Bagel and cream cheese paper weight
I am Finding it difficult to continue with this environment and this network or maybe it’s the absence of both that makes it difficult...
The actual doing itself is not that difficult, it just takes time, but hours could feel painfully long when it’s not understood by those who surround you.
Is this just a psychological thing which I can certainly find a way to overcome...or is it something else? What else? I should overcome it because from experience I know ‘support system’ is just fucking illusion.

Indefatigable purple
Going into the depth of my self, sing a song, an icy heart turns gold.
Smell the snow. Taste the ice. Remember the ice cream. Days of being wildly young,
Only until later that I found out dreams were false. They led me to somewhere else. Another journey, love, story, detour. Never really the endings.

Test me
If my soul is black and if I am
heartless, vegetarian, bisexuell biker seeking female in North London. Test me,
If my bike was lost? Where is it now? What story left to be unfold when you’ve lost your love? When you’ve lost the one? I am the one. Or was it you? Do you dream? Do you have sex with yourself and with the trees? Or are you just another zombie?
Two Bats
He was so honest with you about his songs of adventures, experiences, innocence and youth because he wanted to let you know that he too came from that place. In its distilled darkness, that place which were filled with iridescent wonders, artificial sweeteners, cold machines and filthy monsters. She thought she finally found him, the one, wicked , cold, efficient, like a cyborg who needed none of the earthly pleasures to survive. She thought he was god. But only to find out that he, just like her, has a heart.


Well if I was to go back in time and choose again...I would know still and again that it’s the only way forward, towards what I can’t tell. One principle would be to not choose the same lover ever again.

In the end of movie, (btw the letter burning end scene was my favorite) Gertrud said she wrote a poem when she was 16, and in the end of her life it seems to conclude everything. Of course I don’t take things literally and meaning does escape words, in the sense of tarot card readings that can be both right and wrong, if one analyzes it rationally. In my case it was a short story written when i was 16, and ten years after it did seem to summarize it all. I just wonder if it’s the nature of it to turn in never ending repetitive cycles or it is our mind (my mind?)fail to understand it in another way? Or it’s me reading the obvious from a bunch of random cards..
If Gertrud should find meaning in her journey, she would know that the greatest thing one can learn from love is life itself and nothing else. And it is strange and touching when something like this happens, the feeling is almost untranscribable, kind of like a reminder(placeholder?) in a dream, saying,”it will happen, this is only a receipt in advance”. But the receipt will stay tucked away in a drawer of a desk somewhere, by the time you noticed which desk, which drawer, and which receipt it is, you would be so ready fo anything that you do not care about some scribbled receipt of fate, of prophecy, of fortune because they are so unimportant and petty. Another version of the ending would be of how Kafka asked Max to burn everything, and he didn’t, but why would anyone care?
Funny how memories fade,today is the third time I’ve dreamed you, don’t remember the first, but last time you asked me if I was sure she’s not a fake, and this time you were playing piano together with a silver hair twin that looked just like you. Now I am certain you are just me, just a bit older.

Into love
and try again

And after

Always think about what’s after sex, what’s after sex, Is it full of dull taste? Dull love, dull thought, dull emotion, dull comprehension, dull soul, dull spirit....even dull touch and dull kisses...

Do not think sex can enhance these essential dullness. Do not think a doll has what you need.

Arch-transcendentals , happy sensi-tecture
His speeches:
‘Experience of language’ Experiment um linguae as the ‘negative space’ which you speak from and to, to achieve freedom of speaking:the ‘un-experience’ of language. Therefore you only experience language(potency+act, voice+grammar) but nothing else. Empty; therein goes back to the negative space.
Moirai,sisters of fate, death thread
Why is it okay for me to cheat but others? Why do we have two hands not three? Why do I want to have sex? Why do I feel pain? Why do I sleep? Why do I even need to breath? Can’t you do better? God? Death? Divinity? Can’t I do better?
What is life? What is death?

Something else?

Tiredness is an natural human condition, no mater what you do you will get tired, say you are tired from this this that that is actually misleadingly for others since what you want to convey is not that you are tired of the thing you are doing but more like you are tired cuz you used up your finite energy. So if someone says she’s tired (in any content) you will need to be cautious of what she actually meant...and what that implies. Anyway I think tired from or tired of or just tired should be distinctive from dislike, sick of, sick from, irritating.....sick is a much better adjective in the sense that it has a tiny bit more abnormalities in its definition so as not to get mixed up with tiredness....

That day.
I fucked the forest. The moon came to greet me few days later. At night. Well it was 3am, I pleasured myself for her and I cum at sunrise, strangely she’s still there at sunrise, glowing like charm, pale fire.

In my dream she seemed 10 years younger, we started making out in the room, people were chatting, they quiet down when they see us kissing, everything went ambient, and i love it, I can remember the build of her body, her tongue, her hug, her hair, her shyness, think we fell in love just by that kiss. So soft and so gentle. And I thought after I woke up that she must be older, and a Pisces. I am going to love her so much and forever.

Sharing different heart beat
Be pragmatic be free, be your instinct
Be you
Be myself, be true,
A peanut a day maybe
But you feel not hungry
You feel able to sleep peacefullly
You feel you can die today, anytime
Discover the door, open that door, there is no monster, no devil, no spoon
There is no door.

does Romanticism stems from pragmatism?

Is it a dream?
To believe that there would be someone willing to not fantasize and be truthful to have a conversation, a meeting, a relationship, or a life. A life of freedom and independence instead of dependency and chain. Be a bird instead of a leech. Please.

Something about instinct. The fork. Of eating while having no fork.

It is a place of freedom and slavery. Of pleasure and pain. It is asexual. It is non-conforming. It is discipline. It is romantic. It is about believing.
Romantic believer.
Love is not a romantic decision. It is actually a rational one. And it would be stupid to think otherwise.

I miss sex in the woods.

Is freedom death? Everything in this world is about being not free, including love.

Sex and death then? Or just a constant state of floating in the air or swimming back and forth in laps - and never arrive anywhere except the swim itself.

Company and understanding would be nice, before death and before sex. Maybe it’s the same thing? Maybe not.

Every rational is based on irrational reasons.

I really need to get this boat!

It’s the same person
same door
same gate
Same motive
same cloth
same desire
Same question
Same answer

Someone came and cut everything away.
From a suit to a dress.
I dream of dancing in space, like we used to. Where there is no earth, only air and magic. Empty space dance.
Remembering the first November I listen to samaris,
Feels like I should already be dead. Like somehow I escaped death but lost my reason to be alive. And wait, what is that reason? Is that also fake?
And then you start to wonder, what is fiction what is reality, and what is dream? What is dream? Can you tell me what is dream if you can’t tell it apart from reality? Those moments were so real, so are the moments now. Both real, and both unreal.
Love, love, love, what is love? What is Love? What is not love? What is life? What is the meaning? What is the purpose?

Feels dumb still asking those same questions 10 years after first asking those questions at 16.

Still talking to myself.

Still understand only myself.

Communication, communication
Is key?

Suddenly I understand why I hate skirts or extra wide trousers(the kind that completely abolish your figure) they are just insincere. Insincere.

A game without king and queen.

Then I am certain I am living in a fish tank,
But strange when I think of myself as a fish, almost instantly I am aware that it’s a ‘fish tank’....not sea. But as a person it seems what’s considered commonly sensible is to live in a room but not the wild. Perhaps every time I swim, I dive, that sensation is enhanced. The sensation that I am living in a fish tank. I am swimming in a tank. And where I belong... as far as I am concern is the sea, the 73% of The Earth. 73% of freedom, 27% of oxygen. The land will give me the urge to breath, to go back, to return home. And I can always resist that urge. And stay free under water.
When you are swimming, you always only see different shades of blue...light blue dark blue golden blue reflecting blue ultramarine blue. Everything is so blue it makes you want to just die. But perhaps not with all those germs and dead cells floating in the pool....perhaps better to die at sea. Does symbiosis actually plays trick on you? Need to be careful then. Careful about things that can’t be cared for. You hope it is not a trap. But maybe it is trap. And you still go to it knowing it’s a trap. A bit like going in the pool to swim. Like a fish just pay 2dollars to go swim in the fish tank.
I want to tell myself it’s okay to be free. You don’t need to be tied down by another person.
It’s okay.
It will only drag you down and slow you down perhaps even drown you.
I am happier. I do. At least freer. And life goes on without those bounds. There are only beautiful experiences. Beautiful moments. That’s it.

If you can’t be alone, you can’t be together. Shining souls. Lovers. Flames.

Just want to be at the beach. Swimming diving sunbathing whatever forever.

Mr.twin sister

Quit smoking and took time to burn all her pictures away
And now am quit of her

Bye bye

I was walking like wind.
But now am back to water. Shapeless yet filled with shapes.

Feeling worried restless and tired
Seasonal affective disorder?

Feeling much better after a long sleep, slept incredibly well after yesterday’s dive, guess it’s a long game, 27, 28? Perhaps 29 or 30... or maybe 31 even

It is hard to tell from the outside what makes up a person, but with some time and some ‘deep’ conversations, they usually reveal a lot about them. But if you see the little signs a little too harsh you might end up with no one...I guess the key is not to look for little mistakes..but essential characters, and I think one of the most important character is that they are a seeker. A seeker of knowledge and reality.

And there needs to be something else as well. otherworldly connection perhaps.

To be a seeker one needs to be strong to endure the loneliness /brave to challenge the unknown/magical to sense the unsensibles(god feels like this is becoming fiction) . And have the ability to act with clarity and not clouded by noises of her own or others.

Players only love you when they are playing
Maybe it’s the smell of blueberry shisha from the Taxi I grabbed from the airport, yes it must be it, and the music playing on the radio in the car, very similar to the sounds of chronic town, the time when I would just lay down on the floor in the shop and smoke shisha, feeling dizzy and dreamy and free, and of course we were poor students, but we had good times, a good 1,2,3 years, K was so kind, she would drove me around with her hyundai, to buy groceries and stuff, we would go to insomnia cookies to get white chocolate macadamia cookies, those cookie were hot and delicious and soft, and you can also order delivery from them and get a 12 for 10 deal, I think it’s this Belgrade landscape that’s making me remember all these little things, our life back in the states, a little town out of nowhere, they called it happy valley. Well, this American flavor i can taste it with my eyes or smelling it, smell the memories I collected back in those youthful days, I miss them so much,

Safari Mellon dew

And another thing is that on Friday night people here just looked like zombies walking in the cold to get to parties, just like in that valley where kids go out every night....

The other thing is that the manual drivers here make their cars sound really loud and bumpy just like those American muscle cars in a way

And so many malls omg

Or maybe it’s the smell of lap dance
The shouting reperformance sounds like devil trapped in his body making sounds cuz he can’t escape the body, I wonder what it felt like when Marina was doing her piece, and the fact that he only make sounds while the body remained unmoved helps visually with the idea..
And the black tape in square shape help the audience feeling a sense of security that the devil is not running out or escape the black rectangle seal...

I think it should be actually named “ruined organism”

Oh, and the tape is also to protect the performer from the audience.
Her Little sister went in my dream and sang next to me. It was raining out at the window next to us. She sings in mandarin, “maybe the person on your mind Dreams of chasing many dreams alone “ and I looked at her suddenly feels attracted to her, I hugged her while she sings. And she looked at me surprised. We then found out I was hard. I woke up and thinking if the person on your mind is me or the person on my mind is you.
believe system
It didn’t take much to believe you because I wanted to believe . But i guess it’s hard to un-believe you because I still want to believe you.

When I am not afraid of death,

When what you spoke and what you meant are two different things,

When your skin and your mask match,

When water is my fire,
When water is then frozen

When I’ve melted,
ice melted
It became me,
I meant,
clothes became it
I am feeling a mixture of sadness and loneliness which I can’t communicate myself to you. Stars know that I am dying to see you, to talk to you, to have you in my arms. There is just this upsetting, falling sensation in the darkness of my mind telling me that nothing is going in any direction at all. Which is logically speaking not true but I feel it so intensely in the past few hours. The feeling of a drifting boat leaving. That we are the boat and the boat is leaving us behind. If I let go or not let go, either way the boat is leaving and will leave us. I hope when I see you this will go away. I want to go to a place far far far away where I can tell it my secrets. Secrets that are sad and secrets that We don’t speak about. Secrets that is hidden and invisible. Secrets that holds things together. When are we ready to talk about it? When and where is it okay and warm to tell you I am feeling lonely and not be called childish. When and where is it okay and no one watching, to tell you that I miss you and I am so glad I see you every time. When and where is it okay to love you, adore you, and feel you. I hate narratives. Who is narrating. Am I narrating or am I narrated too.

Only the first step is difficult

The distance means nothing

One foot in front of another

Dark thoughts coming at nights I can’t refuse, is it my soul that’s blackened or is it just shadows from the winter?