lose->look for->find->celebrate

.......... My Christmas Gift Dreamlist ..........

1. Beagle puppy

2. White Piano

3. Synthesizer (if 2. is n/a)

4m 44s

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9MgY4n_AeY

diorama live dates..

20.03.2010 Reutlingen / Kulturzentrum Franz.K
02.04.2010 Frankfurt / Batschkapp
03.04.2010 Essen / Zeche Carl
04.04.2010 Berlin / K17
24.04.2010 Leipzig / Moritzbastei
30.04.2010 Hannover / Musikzentrum
01.05.2010 Hamburg / Markthalle
12.06.2010 Gelsenkirchen / Blackfield Festival 2010
05.09.2010 Deutzen / NCN 5 (tbc)
20.11.2010 Goerlitz / tbc


well, it looks like a lot of travelling for me.. ;-)

i don't belong here

haunted in a dream

Death is no dream,
For in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you
Gloomy Sunday

what what what what is it again

anarchy sheeps

shepherd your sheep are out of control out of control out of control they're rearing up and rule the house and scare the dog away

3:38 PM Jun 16th from web by s.o. with identity taken

...

De profundis

Es ist ein Stoppelfeld, in das ein schwarzer Regen fällt.
Es ist ein brauner Baum, der einsam dasteht.
Es ist ein Zischelwind, der leere Hütten umkreist.
Wie traurig dieser Abend.

Am Weiler vorbei
Sammelt die sanfte Waise noch spärliche Ähren ein.
Ihre Augen weiden rund und goldig in der Dämmerung
Und ihr Schoß harrt des himmlischen Bräutigams.

Bei der Heimkehr
Fanden die Hirten den süßen Leib
Verwest im Dornenbusch.

Ein Schatten bin ich ferne finsteren Dörfern.
Gottes Schweigen
Trank ich aus dem Brunnen des Hains.

Auf meine Stirne tritt kaltes Metall
Spinnen suchen mein Herz.
Es ist ein Licht, das in meinem Mund erlöscht.

Nachts fand ich mich auf einer Heide,
Starrend von Unrat und Staub der Sterne.
Im Haselgebüsch
Klangen wieder kristallne Engel.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It is a stubble field, where a black rain is falling.
It is a brown tree, that stands alone.
It is a hissing wind, that encircles empty houses.
How melancholy the evening is.

A while later,
The soft orphan garners the sparse ears of corn.
Her eyes graze, round and golden, in the twilight
And her womb awaits the heavenly bridegroom.

On the way home
The shepherd found the sweet body
Decayed in a bush of thorns.

I am a shadow far from darkening villages.
I drank the silence of God
Out of the stream in the trees.

Cold metal walks on my forehead.
Spiders search for my heart.
It is a light that goes out in my mouth.

At night, I found myself on a pasture,
Covered with rubbish and the dust of stars.
In a hazel thicket
Angels of crystal rang out once more.

/Georg Trakl/

exploring the theme of absolute devotion

"Dolls" by Takeshi Kitano is a sad and depressive movie based on the Japanese Puppet Theater Bunraku that tells three tales of guilt and eternal love. Each tragic love story is disclosed in a very slow pace and supported by stunning cinematography and excellent direction and performances.

Matsumoto and Sawako are in deep love for each other. When the president of the company where Matsumoto works "selects" him to marry his daughter, Matsumoto's parents force him to accept the engagement. On the wedding day, Matsumoto is informed that Sawako has attempted to commit suicide. She survives with brain damage and Matsumoto leaves his wedding to take her from the hospital and become her lifelong companion and caretaker.

The old Yakuza boss Hiro misses his girlfriend from thirty years ago that has promised to wait for him in a park while he would chase success. When Hiro visits the park, he sees her on the bench where they used to meet each other.

The pop-star Haruna Yamagushi has an obsessive fan called Nukui that stalks her. After a car accident, Nukui makes a decision to be close to his beloved idol.

Die Bäume

By Franz Kafka

Denn wir sind wie Baumstämme im Schnee. Scheinbar liegen sie glatt auf, und mit kleinem Anstoß sollte man sie wegschieben können. Nein, das kann man nicht, denn sie sind fest mit dem Boden verbunden. Aber sieh, sogar das ist nur scheinbar.

Дървета

Защото ние сме като дървени трупи в снега. Те лежат там, подредени, и на човек му се струва, че само леко да ги побутне и ще ги отмести. Всъщност е невъзможно, защото те са се сраснали със земята. Но виж, дори това е само привидност.

Франц Кафка

KlangstabilTV Ep.2

the tell-tale heart

By Edgar Allan Poe

True! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously (for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily. I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out --"Who's there?" I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye. It was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness --all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot. And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eve would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs. I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye --not even his --could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha! When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises. I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears. No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men --but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous heart!"

all beauty is lost

fighting die Naivität

It is the essence of moral responsibility to determine beforehand the consequences of our actions or inactions. [R.N.]

karaoke boys

to start with..

Hold yourself to a higher standard than anybody else expects of you.
[HWB]

:abnormalertyp:

that very 1st moment can't be forgotten

and the dancers are turning faster and faster

stop the time, save the moment

haiku time

no one travels
along this way but I,
this autumn evening.

run the math : clarify the misery

-los

like waltzing in a dark room

haiku time

three men and three birds
stand still in the forest, all
surprised by rain

U-Cube Ep.2

it makes me feel silent

Където улиците нямат имена,
където чезнат мътните площади
и двамата със вплетени съзнания
обгърнали сме с длани себе си...

4RD to my dear Gabi!

shtot znam, 4e ima mng golyam shans da vidi toya post ;-) pojelavam i mnogo yaki zapoznanstva pokrai mnogo yakiya masai4o, da i doidat My Dying Bride na krak v Sf da i posviryat i da e vse taka usmihnata byasna mlada moma!

haide i edno nazdrave po povoda:)

cold is my bed

but, oh, i love it,
for colder are
my friends above it.

Kaurismaki goes Kafka

Lights in the Dusk (2006) is the last episode for the Aki Kaurismäki's trilogy whose previous items were Drifting Clouds (1996) and the Oscar-nominated The Man Without a Past (2002). It ends his "losers" trilogy with what appears to be his most cynical film to date. All films of the Trilogy deal with people on the margins, common people who bear their sufferings stoically; and quite literally personify a "never-say-die" attitude. Where the first film was about unemployment and the second about homelessness, this final installment is about loneliness.

Night watchman Koistinen lives an alienated life. A sad sack without affect or friends, ridiculed and shunned by his workmates, regarded as incompetent by his employers, he lives alone, drinks alone, and only manages to talk in any decent way with the woman who sell hot dogs in the fast food stand. His life changes when a mysterious blond takes a sudden and unexpected interest in him.

Never ever has despair better been portrayed in a more subcutaneous way - not only as a trip into the light, but as a trip through the light - the light out of the darkness, not the light as opposite to night. Its mood of twilight doom is unforgettable.

a wilderness of mirrors

Сякаш се сгромолясваш през огледало,
когато се събудиш, нищо друго не помниш,
сякаш се сгромолясваш през всички огледала,
а сетне светът отново се сглобява,
все едно нищо не се е случило.
А и нищо не се е случило.

Ще се нарека Гантенбайн (1964) / Макс Фриш

It's like falling through a miror,
that's all you know when you wake up,
like falling through all the mirrors there are,
and afterwards, shortly afterwards,
the world is put together again as though nothing had happened.
And nothing has happened.

Mein Name sei Gantenbein (1964)/ Max Frisch

hate me - give me more

fight:or:flight

interesting concept

We should gradually become the individuals we are meant to be.
Rushing and pushing to the final aim as we imagine it may lead only into blending into this personality so quickly that most probably we will end up with screwing up ourselves.. only to figure out five years down the road that our way of thinking is a mess.. that we need to erase and restart.. to rebuild everything from the scratch.
Smart!
But who is under control at his fragile age? How many people are strong enough to refrain from running and jumping?
At least I was not.

haiku time

without flowing wine
how to enjoy lovely
cherry blossoms?

Soom / Breath

in the world of grey a shadow light.
another day - another season.
for winter to end it all.
just take one last breath in this loneliness of yours.

love it in this version

haiku time

autumn evening
my hospital window
becomes a mirror

é fabuloso

Pics by Lux Imoti, Published by Nash Dom 4/2008, Interior design by R.Evans

real/unreal

"Everyone lives in his own fantasy world, but most people don't understand that. No one perceives the real world. Each person simply call his private, personal fantasies the truth. The difference is that I know I live in a fantasy world. I prefer it that way and resent anything that disturbs my vision."

Federico Fellini

(thnx to a last.fm friend)

i did not rape her, your beauty raped me!

how miserable you can become if you are irresistably beautiful?
is the beauty a blessing or a curse?
can you ignore all the men staring hopelessly at you? or the jealous looks received by fellow women?
do you have a choice not to start destroying this beauty?

alone is what I feel

haiku time

gathering silence
in my mind is
the hardest thing to do

expressive

these pictures are so good...

eccentricity

In popular usage, eccentricity refers to unusual or odd behavior on the part of an individual. This behavior would typically be perceived as unusual or unnecessary, without being demonstrably maladaptive. Eccentricity is contrasted with "normal" behavior, the nearly universal means by which individuals in society solve given problems and pursue certain priorities in everyday life. People who consistently display benignly eccentric behavior are labelled as "eccentrics."

Depictions of eccentricity

Eccentricity is often associated with genius, giftedness, or creativity. The individual's eccentric behavior is perceived to be the outward expression of his or her unique intelligence or creative impulse. In this vein, the eccentric's habits are incomprehensible not because they are illogical or the result of madness, but because they stem from a mind so original that it cannot be conformed to societal norms. Edith Sitwell wrote:

"Eccentricity is not, as some would believe, a form of madness. It is often a kind of innocent pride, and the man of genius and the aristocrat are frequently regarded as eccentrics because genius and aristocrat are entirely unafraid of and uninfluenced by the opinions and vagaries of the crowd."


Comparison to the norm

Eccentrics may or may not comprehend the standards for normal behavior in their culture. They are simply unconcerned by society's disapproval of their habits or beliefs and most often display extreme individualism. Many of history's most brilliant minds have displayed many unusual behaviors and habits.

Some eccentrics are pejoratively considered "cranks", rather than geniuses. Eccentric behavior is often considered whimsical or quirky, although it can also be strange and disturbing. Many individuals previously considered to be merely eccentric, have recently been retrospectively-diagnosed as actually suffering from mental illness (obsessive compulsive disorder, etc.).

Other people may have eccentric taste in clothes, or have eccentric hobbies or collections which they pursue with great vigor. They may have a pedantic and precise manner of speaking, intermingled with inventive wordplay.

Behavioral eccentricities have often been classically associated with psychological profiles indicating overcompensation, insecurities, unresolved childhood issues, involuntary celibacy and other sexual issues, unrequited love, heartbreak, and other romantic issues, repressed feelings, social ineptness, monomania, or a variety of other influences, even if the person would not necessarily be classified as insane.

Many individuals may even manifest eccentricities consciously and deliberately, in an attempt to differentiate themselves from societal norms or enhance a sense of inimitable identity; given the overwhelmingly positive stereotypes often associated with eccentricity, detailed above, certain individuals seek to be associated with this sort of character type. However, this is not always successful and the individual in question may simply be dismissed by others as just seeking attention.


Characteristics

Psychologist Dr. David Weeks mentions people with a mental illness "suffer" from their behavior while healthy eccentrics are quite happy. He even states eccentrics are less prone to mental illness than everyone else. This may be related in the same way that introverts (introversion) suffer more from their mental illness than do extroverts (extroversion), who tend to make those around them suffer instead by their actions or deeds (outward expression of their illness rather than inward).

According to studies, there are fourteen distinctive characteristics that differentiate a healthy eccentric person from a regular person or someone who has a mental illness (although some may not always apply). The first five are in most people regarded as eccentric:

* Nonconforming attitude
* Creative
* Intense curiosity
* Idealistic
* Happy obsession with a hobby or hobbies
* Known very early in his or her childhood they were different from others
* Highly intelligent
* Opinionated and outspoken
* Noncompetitive
* Unusual living or eating habits
* Not interested in the opinions or company of others
* Mischievous sense of humor
* Single
* Usually the eldest or an only child

Source: Wikipedia

traffic jam in memory lane

"They have all the ingredients - dollops of agony and ecstasy, choruses the size of their hometown and songs that aim for a deep emotional connection"
The Guardian

to shatter all the agony

haiku time

the blind man lifting
his face to the sun

in another world

über makedonische..

..i love this picture too..

thnx to my dear kontragekon

O:-)

v: Вы считаете себя счастливым человеком?
T: Я здоров и полон сил, у меня прекрасная семья, отличные друзья, нет проблем со средствами к существованию и возможностью делать музыку. Я бы немедленно закричал "да", если бы не подозревал, что многие люди посчитают меня психически нездоровым.

fuel me further

for best view:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0x6ak3m0wk

shi gan

bang bang

simple as it is

dont touch the bottle in my hand

.27947095n.33.3f

uninfected i remain
insensible, immune and deaf
untouchable like clouds

marsell

..i'm totally in love with everything coming from marsell..

[warning: female post]

clothes & shoes addictions

1. Comme Des Garcons / Junya Watanabe
2. Yohji Yamamoto
3. Issey Miyake
4. Martin Margiela
5. Rick Owens
6. Ann Demeulemeester
7. Hussein Chalayan
8. Dries Van Noten
9. Alexander McQueen
10. Vivienne Westwood

1. Marsell
2. Chloe
3. Balenciaga
4. Marc Jacobs
5. Ann Demeulemeester

..andother inspirations..
G-Star Raw
Miss Sixty
Custo Barcelona
John Fluevog
Frankie Morello
Daniele Alessandrini
Emily The Strange
Fornarina
Camper