Five minutes. It's all I get. I drive by, she jumps in. We don't talk, there's no need. I'm touching her. Kissing her slowly, trying to savour the instant, to have something to replay over and over once it's gone.
It's gone soon. She jumps out, sharing the last almost invisible smile with me. I speed up, leaving everything that happened to hazy memories.
22 December 2012
25 November 2012
After midnight
She's here, lying next to me, fast asleep. Me, my head filled by a tangle of thoughts. No complications, no doubts though. Amongst them thoughts, there's one shining clearer than any other: I care for her. Whatever happens — and whatever happened — I'm not to change anything.
I recall the moment I saw her for the very first time. Not in person, it was in the very beginnings of Facebook. I saw a photo of her back then. And thought — what if? I smile lightly.
Kissing her neck, my palm finds hers and I feel she's happy. Yeah — and I want her to be.
I recall the moment I saw her for the very first time. Not in person, it was in the very beginnings of Facebook. I saw a photo of her back then. And thought — what if? I smile lightly.
Kissing her neck, my palm finds hers and I feel she's happy. Yeah — and I want her to be.
28 October 2012
The Longest Night, Part Three
It started with fleeting kisses few months ago, followed by a neverending flow of messages and emails. Now — it seems natural and supernatural at the same time. Would I object if it did not take place?
It's so instinctive, so brutally normal — yet amazing and extraordinary, too.
I cannot stop looking into those dark eyes of hers, every inch of my body aching with desire, finally merging into a single being.
Making love, over and over again.
It's so instinctive, so brutally normal — yet amazing and extraordinary, too.
I cannot stop looking into those dark eyes of hers, every inch of my body aching with desire, finally merging into a single being.
Making love, over and over again.
The Longest Night, Part Two
Accepting events as they unfold seemed to be the safest bet. A pleasant conversation over the dinner, a passionate fondling in a cab afterwards. And a few dragging minutes before the lights went off in my place.
I remember little. Showing her around and then, all of a sudden, her back pressed against the wall. Her eyes widening, her lips parting, her body melting.
Intermission. Me, gazing at her, astonished, overwhelmed. So was she, gazing back at me.
Engaging in small talk for those few remaining seconds before we found our way to the mattress, the centre of this squat universe.
I remember little. Showing her around and then, all of a sudden, her back pressed against the wall. Her eyes widening, her lips parting, her body melting.
Intermission. Me, gazing at her, astonished, overwhelmed. So was she, gazing back at me.
Engaging in small talk for those few remaining seconds before we found our way to the mattress, the centre of this squat universe.
Can you lend me a T-shirt, please?Pressing my lips against hers and kissing her long and slowly. And gently, above all. She's giving in, naturally, calmly. And me, absorbed, fascinated, amazed: It's the real thing.
The Longest Night, Part One
It meant to be a dinner — and a decent one, too. Wine, friendly chat, laugh. A cab and a good-bye kiss.
Can you lend me a T-shirt, please, she asks nicely as we come to my squat. Yet this is not the same girl who was leaving the restaurant just fifteen minutes ago. My lips were pressed to hers as soon as we left, her eyes widened and she had drown in forbidden passion, willingly and knowingly.
The lights are disapproving. There are the shadows of the real life again, at least for the moment. Can you lend me a T-shirt, please?
I pass her one, probably the shortest I've had around. She puts it on and leaves everything else by the bedpost. The lights go off.
I'm left with no time to think, no time to wonder, no time to hesitate. This does not seem to be just my overgrown fantasy. It's the real thing.
Can you lend me a T-shirt, please, she asks nicely as we come to my squat. Yet this is not the same girl who was leaving the restaurant just fifteen minutes ago. My lips were pressed to hers as soon as we left, her eyes widened and she had drown in forbidden passion, willingly and knowingly.
The lights are disapproving. There are the shadows of the real life again, at least for the moment. Can you lend me a T-shirt, please?
I pass her one, probably the shortest I've had around. She puts it on and leaves everything else by the bedpost. The lights go off.
I'm left with no time to think, no time to wonder, no time to hesitate. This does not seem to be just my overgrown fantasy. It's the real thing.
20 September 2012
Drive
Driving back and forth over and over again. Pushing the limits, soaking deep in ambivalent feelings of joy, need and responsibility; whatever that may mean.
For a moment, a short moment, I feel complete. I honestly believe that everything that is happening to me at the moment is as good as it gets, it's so close to perfect.
Still, I'm tempted. What about a different place, a different city, a different job. A different point of view. A different girl by my side. Don't settle, Jobs famously said, though I doubt this is what he meant.
I drive and am driven and I just cannot get enough. Would I not be around for much longer, I could always exit knowing it was an intense fun.
And drive, it's such a great metaphor.
For a moment, a short moment, I feel complete. I honestly believe that everything that is happening to me at the moment is as good as it gets, it's so close to perfect.
Still, I'm tempted. What about a different place, a different city, a different job. A different point of view. A different girl by my side. Don't settle, Jobs famously said, though I doubt this is what he meant.
I drive and am driven and I just cannot get enough. Would I not be around for much longer, I could always exit knowing it was an intense fun.
And drive, it's such a great metaphor.
19 September 2012
Shivering
A year ago, I was sitting on the bench overlooking the city and slightly shivering; it wasn't a cold night, it was this beautiful creature sitting next to me, sharing the bench and extraordinary moments of closeness with my wonder-struck self.
I'd love her, I'd love her till the end of my days, oh God, I would, would she let me, would she wanted me to.
For months, I hoped she was hesitating, and maybe she really was. My brain cells still scream of pain and lust I went through; the most technicolor experience of my life, far better than any drug I ever tasted.
Then, one day, I finally woke up. Rejecting love — though it's just love in waiting — was brutal. Man, was I hurt, stabbing myself, cutting my veins, murdering my hopes and dreams. Seeing her was like burning in hell, yet still nothing like not seeing her; the torture seemed to be everlasting. Have anybody heard my silent screams? Have anybody noticed my invisible tears?
Few more months have passed until I slightly and painfully found my way around agony I was more dying than living through.
A year has passed and I'm still not cured. Yet I've buried my distress deep inside and we hardly come across each other these days anymore. I live, I laugh and I go on feeling stronger than ever.
Lunch?, a message pops in while I'm already eating. A thousand kilometers away. With somebody else.
And I'm still shivering.
I'd love her, I'd love her till the end of my days, oh God, I would, would she let me, would she wanted me to.
For months, I hoped she was hesitating, and maybe she really was. My brain cells still scream of pain and lust I went through; the most technicolor experience of my life, far better than any drug I ever tasted.
Then, one day, I finally woke up. Rejecting love — though it's just love in waiting — was brutal. Man, was I hurt, stabbing myself, cutting my veins, murdering my hopes and dreams. Seeing her was like burning in hell, yet still nothing like not seeing her; the torture seemed to be everlasting. Have anybody heard my silent screams? Have anybody noticed my invisible tears?
Few more months have passed until I slightly and painfully found my way around agony I was more dying than living through.
A year has passed and I'm still not cured. Yet I've buried my distress deep inside and we hardly come across each other these days anymore. I live, I laugh and I go on feeling stronger than ever.
Lunch?, a message pops in while I'm already eating. A thousand kilometers away. With somebody else.
And I'm still shivering.
09 September 2012
Autumn swing
I smell autumn in the air. It's an early evening, I've just left the office. Left the car at home this morning so I could go out tonight and not hold back. The sharp sun is quickly setting. It's not cold yet — though one can smell what's to come.
A bus stop. No one can see it, I realise. No one! Everybody's mesmerised by their mobiles. The large hot bulb is shining right at them and they don't care. Should they?
It's no better on the subway: if it's not a mobile than it's certainly a Kindle or iPad. Am I any better? No, I'm not — but I've been trying. Hard.
Got rid of Facebook. Stopped tweeting. Instagram is left in the dark, too.
Meeting people instead is ambitious. Lunches, dinners, drinks. Even emails seem old-fashioned. Funny how fast the world evolves.
Thirty minutes left till my next meeting. Walking in a park, trainspotting, taking occasional moody photos I won't share with anybody.
I feel slightly displaced. But hey, those feelings subside as I kiss her neck gently when falling asleep. This has always worked for an autumn swing.
A bus stop. No one can see it, I realise. No one! Everybody's mesmerised by their mobiles. The large hot bulb is shining right at them and they don't care. Should they?
It's no better on the subway: if it's not a mobile than it's certainly a Kindle or iPad. Am I any better? No, I'm not — but I've been trying. Hard.
Got rid of Facebook. Stopped tweeting. Instagram is left in the dark, too.
Meeting people instead is ambitious. Lunches, dinners, drinks. Even emails seem old-fashioned. Funny how fast the world evolves.
Thirty minutes left till my next meeting. Walking in a park, trainspotting, taking occasional moody photos I won't share with anybody.
I feel slightly displaced. But hey, those feelings subside as I kiss her neck gently when falling asleep. This has always worked for an autumn swing.
28 August 2012
Hectic
You did not sleep at home, a colleague of mine hints seeing me wearing the same clothes as yesterday.
I did not, I admit without hesitating. In fact, I slept in four different towns and five different beds in last five nights. My car is my home: everything from toothbrush to iPad travels with me.
Tight schedule, yet manageable. And enjoyable at the same time. Emails on the go, phone calls while driving. Using hands-free, of course! I smile at the receptionist as I pass by. She smiles back, unknowingly. I smile at the taylor trimming my suit and she smiles back. Knowingly. Indeed, it does work.
When falling asleep in one of those beds, I smile again, looking at the perfect body lying next to me. This is rather the only bitter-sweet moment of the day.
I can't. I won't. I'm off again in a few short hours. My German class starts at 7 AM. The tutor will be pünktlich. So shall I.
I did not, I admit without hesitating. In fact, I slept in four different towns and five different beds in last five nights. My car is my home: everything from toothbrush to iPad travels with me.
Tight schedule, yet manageable. And enjoyable at the same time. Emails on the go, phone calls while driving. Using hands-free, of course! I smile at the receptionist as I pass by. She smiles back, unknowingly. I smile at the taylor trimming my suit and she smiles back. Knowingly. Indeed, it does work.
When falling asleep in one of those beds, I smile again, looking at the perfect body lying next to me. This is rather the only bitter-sweet moment of the day.
I can't. I won't. I'm off again in a few short hours. My German class starts at 7 AM. The tutor will be pünktlich. So shall I.
14 August 2012
Cherish
A lazy summer Sunday. Perhaps the last one this season. Sun is still making sure we sweat — yet the days get shorter, mornings chillier and the dark falls early.
We make love as we come alive and than just hang on in an unceasing hug, floating in and out of consciousness until the hunger wakes us up for good.
We eat and set ahead for a seemingly meaningless trip. By the river, by the trees, with my hand on her knee and her palm in my hair.
Shall we stay together? Time will tell. We discuss what ifs so naturally and matter-of-factly as I've never experienced before. This ain't a silly high school talk, this happens for real.
If I could love her, I would, although it's too early, my shattered heart is miles away and I can't pull myself together for now. I'm like a thief trying to get rid of old habits, desperately stressing to be a better man.
We dine in my favourite joint and then we split; and I'm leaving towards the setting bulb in the sky. I sigh lightly: my life has become a slushy romance — and I cannot get enough.
We make love as we come alive and than just hang on in an unceasing hug, floating in and out of consciousness until the hunger wakes us up for good.
We eat and set ahead for a seemingly meaningless trip. By the river, by the trees, with my hand on her knee and her palm in my hair.
Shall we stay together? Time will tell. We discuss what ifs so naturally and matter-of-factly as I've never experienced before. This ain't a silly high school talk, this happens for real.
If I could love her, I would, although it's too early, my shattered heart is miles away and I can't pull myself together for now. I'm like a thief trying to get rid of old habits, desperately stressing to be a better man.
We dine in my favourite joint and then we split; and I'm leaving towards the setting bulb in the sky. I sigh lightly: my life has become a slushy romance — and I cannot get enough.
15 July 2012
Arguing
Walking down the river bank with a bunch of friends on a lazy afternoon. Having a great time, at least I think so. Just a little catch I learn about once we come home.
— You didn't hold my hand — she complains.
— I didn't know I could!
— Yet you said you would!
— Yep, I did. Meaning when we're alone.
— You should have anyway.
— OK. I will. Tomorrow.
If this was the worst argument we were to have, I can live with it. And yes, we're together — it's official — I've just learned.
— You didn't hold my hand — she complains.
— I didn't know I could!
— Yet you said you would!
— Yep, I did. Meaning when we're alone.
— You should have anyway.
— OK. I will. Tomorrow.
If this was the worst argument we were to have, I can live with it. And yes, we're together — it's official — I've just learned.
03 July 2012
Pearl Jam, Prague 2 July 2012
Encore: Of The Girl * Just Breathe * Crazy Mary (Snippet: Angie) * Once * Do The Evolution
Encore 2: World Wide Suicide * Better Man (Snippet: Save it for Later) * Black * Alive * Baba O'Riley * Yellow Ledbetter
06 June 2012
One more thing
Four years ago, I was sitting opposite her in a Mexican joint. She was shy, very shy, yet every time her eyes met mine, she smiled. Ended up giving me her number without me asking; and I knew I could.
Haven't seen her in a month. Popped by to swap books and photos.
— How are you? — She asked in a desperate attempt to start a conversation. It was plain and banal — and heartbreaking.
— Good. All's good.
— You, you wanna say anything?
— Nah. Am not ready yet, maybe later. — I sigh and stand up to leave.
I'm leaving and not looking back. Back in the street, I can breathe again. There's one more thing, I message her: I wanted to spend my life with you — and I'm still sorry it didn't work out.
She never replied.
Haven't seen her in a month. Popped by to swap books and photos.
— How are you? — She asked in a desperate attempt to start a conversation. It was plain and banal — and heartbreaking.
— Good. All's good.
— You, you wanna say anything?
— Nah. Am not ready yet, maybe later. — I sigh and stand up to leave.
I'm leaving and not looking back. Back in the street, I can breathe again. There's one more thing, I message her: I wanted to spend my life with you — and I'm still sorry it didn't work out.
She never replied.
29 May 2012
Pandora's box
I was so close. Could have driven to her place and ring the bell. Could have called her and asked her out. To have a coffee. A chat.
If I ever had learnt anything about love, it was because of her. She made me go through all stages, numerous times. I hoped and wished for breaking up for ages, yet when it happened the relief was non-existent; the enduring pain lasted far longer that I'm able to admit even after more than a decade.
Yep; it made me the man I am today. And maybe that's why I cannot ring that bell.
If I ever had learnt anything about love, it was because of her. She made me go through all stages, numerous times. I hoped and wished for breaking up for ages, yet when it happened the relief was non-existent; the enduring pain lasted far longer that I'm able to admit even after more than a decade.
Yep; it made me the man I am today. And maybe that's why I cannot ring that bell.
03 May 2012
Scaling down
I guess it has already started on a plane. An insomniac brain circling around the same topic over and over again. A girl sleeping next to me, another two awaiting me at the destination. And a few more scattered around. Me — an unsettled scumbag scoring like an alfa male. Pretentious. Perhaps fun for a moment — but then certainly a drag.
A week has passed. Overseas seems like a distant ship's smoke on the horizon. A mere week — and it's all different. Out of two, there's none. And I'm to deal with another two over the weekend.
Fine now. Time to concentrate.
A week has passed. Overseas seems like a distant ship's smoke on the horizon. A mere week — and it's all different. Out of two, there's none. And I'm to deal with another two over the weekend.
Fine now. Time to concentrate.
24 April 2012
Zona Sul
Perhaps the best thing to do in Rio is nothingRight. I guess drinking, partying, lazily walking around or getting laid still counts as nothing. I'm drained and withdrawn; and before the restart, this is exactly what I hoped for.
Truly amazing how cool can nothing be.
07 March 2012
Low point
Wanna come over tonight?, I message her, perhaps more shrewdly than anything else. I don't want to be falling asleep alone. I've had enough last weekend and insomnia is back with a vengeance. It used to be an integral part of my life for years and I'm worried now.
She longs to be caressed and she longs to confess. And cry: she breaks into tears as soon as she starts talking. It's the low point, her therapist apparently explained. It would get better and than worse again and better once more. Seemingly neverending sinusoid of highs and lows.
I'd love to help but I cannot: it's her own mind at stake, I cannot interfere. She has to find on her own what's good and what's not, what she wants and what she doesn't. Any advice would be useless if not hurtful.
I'm fondling her gorgeous breasts when falling into abyss of dreams and it seems perfectly natural — yet that's was not on my agenda; not even as a bonus. It's just happened to be a part of a connection of two wounded mates desperate for comfort, two lonely earthlings in the need of a helping hand in order to get through the night.
I'm sure you'll figure out the angles, Bob said.
She longs to be caressed and she longs to confess. And cry: she breaks into tears as soon as she starts talking. It's the low point, her therapist apparently explained. It would get better and than worse again and better once more. Seemingly neverending sinusoid of highs and lows.
I'd love to help but I cannot: it's her own mind at stake, I cannot interfere. She has to find on her own what's good and what's not, what she wants and what she doesn't. Any advice would be useless if not hurtful.
I'm fondling her gorgeous breasts when falling into abyss of dreams and it seems perfectly natural — yet that's was not on my agenda; not even as a bonus. It's just happened to be a part of a connection of two wounded mates desperate for comfort, two lonely earthlings in the need of a helping hand in order to get through the night.
I'm sure you'll figure out the angles, Bob said.
03 March 2012
Frank
Saturday mornings in Centennial Park. A bit too early and sometimes also chilly for my liking, with nature just about waking up; pretty much the same as me. We walk three rounds in a fast pace before we split, only to meet the following weekend again at the same place.
We — that's Frank, Joe and me. Like father, son and grandson, three generations set 25 years apart.
We talk all the way; U.S. mortgage crisis and the stock market volatility is the number one topic back in 2007. Sure, we may talk about arts, too. Photography, music, theatre. And sport. And history as well. Nevertheless, the state of the economy is always the prevailing theme of our seemingly perpetual agitated discussions.
Now, we've lost Frank. As fate would have it, I learned from Wikipedia, from the article I myself started.
We — that's Frank, Joe and me. Like father, son and grandson, three generations set 25 years apart.
We talk all the way; U.S. mortgage crisis and the stock market volatility is the number one topic back in 2007. Sure, we may talk about arts, too. Photography, music, theatre. And sport. And history as well. Nevertheless, the state of the economy is always the prevailing theme of our seemingly perpetual agitated discussions.
Now, we've lost Frank. As fate would have it, I learned from Wikipedia, from the article I myself started.
26 February 2012
Restart
Can I sleep at you place?, I asked her candidly a mere three weeks ago. Since, we grew closer again. I'll be in town on Wednesday, I message her a week later, if you don't mind my going to some business party, I'd love you to join. Quite the opposite, I'd love to see you, she responds.
We walk the dog swiftly and then drive to the party and park right in front of the nightclub, sort of Hollywood-like. No tickets are no problem and we get in without hassle. Free drinks, a buffet, casino-styled entertainment.
She's knocking the glasses of wine far faster then I can drink my water. Playing table football, dancing and laughing a lot before I lose her in a crowd. A bit tipsy, she's being chatted up by some local chap. Takes me a while to retake her and I decide it's better a time to go.
Speeding through the city, we only smile at each other once I stop. She hardly walks and I literally carry her home. She's hugging me, not letting go. Oh dear, I whisper. I have to go. Don't go, please, she's begging. Please, she keeps whispering. I'm going anyway.
I feel really sick, the message beeps before I get home. Speeding through the city the second time, I'm back at hers in ten minutes. Laying her down, I'm to go again, at least to the other room. Stay, stay with me, she mumbles.
I stay, making sure she's fine, trying not to jump to conclusions too quick. She's just got drunk, right? Right??!
I'm taking her for breakfast in the morning while she's amazed at herself: I can't believe I let you sleep in my bed; I never... —
— You're lovely; lovely even when you're wasted — I cut her short. She blushes and I know we are where we left last year. It's all cool again.
We walk the dog swiftly and then drive to the party and park right in front of the nightclub, sort of Hollywood-like. No tickets are no problem and we get in without hassle. Free drinks, a buffet, casino-styled entertainment.
She's knocking the glasses of wine far faster then I can drink my water. Playing table football, dancing and laughing a lot before I lose her in a crowd. A bit tipsy, she's being chatted up by some local chap. Takes me a while to retake her and I decide it's better a time to go.
Speeding through the city, we only smile at each other once I stop. She hardly walks and I literally carry her home. She's hugging me, not letting go. Oh dear, I whisper. I have to go. Don't go, please, she's begging. Please, she keeps whispering. I'm going anyway.
I feel really sick, the message beeps before I get home. Speeding through the city the second time, I'm back at hers in ten minutes. Laying her down, I'm to go again, at least to the other room. Stay, stay with me, she mumbles.
I stay, making sure she's fine, trying not to jump to conclusions too quick. She's just got drunk, right? Right??!
I'm taking her for breakfast in the morning while she's amazed at herself: I can't believe I let you sleep in my bed; I never... —
— You're lovely; lovely even when you're wasted — I cut her short. She blushes and I know we are where we left last year. It's all cool again.
24 February 2012
Forlorn
Business meeting held in a small town lost somewhere between France and Switzerland. Intermittent Internet connection, regular meals and lots of tea, coffee and snacks. There may be fifty of us around, mostly older than me. Managers, directors, you name them. Just few seem to be out of place as I am, others seem to love it. Hardly anyone wears a wedding ring, I noticed shortly and then just kept starring at people's fingers, obsessed, mesmerised.
Bonjour, monsieur. Bonsoir, monsieur. S'il vous plaît, monsieur.
They walk by and they nod nonchalantly and their suits seem to make them into a sort of weird mannequins they originally strived to be. Now they are. Flicking through their iPads, checking their Blackberries, playing buzzword bingo in a business lingo.
What kind of life is this? I could not see them walking around the lake or take photos of this sleepy spa town. And I'm stuck with them, too, without a possibility of parole. The shuttle will only arrive in three days.
Au revoir, monsieur. Bon voyage, monsieur.
I'm slightly melancholic as I'm watching the scenery when being driven to the airport. I'm glad when we take off. God forbid I'd ever become one of them.
Bonjour, monsieur. Bonsoir, monsieur. S'il vous plaît, monsieur.
They walk by and they nod nonchalantly and their suits seem to make them into a sort of weird mannequins they originally strived to be. Now they are. Flicking through their iPads, checking their Blackberries, playing buzzword bingo in a business lingo.
What kind of life is this? I could not see them walking around the lake or take photos of this sleepy spa town. And I'm stuck with them, too, without a possibility of parole. The shuttle will only arrive in three days.
Au revoir, monsieur. Bon voyage, monsieur.
I'm slightly melancholic as I'm watching the scenery when being driven to the airport. I'm glad when we take off. God forbid I'd ever become one of them.
04 February 2012
Getting better
Sitting in the corner, watching the crowd. Friends, coworkers and a handful of girls I got to know slightly better. I'm watching them calmly, all those characters who have been shaping my life since I moved here four years ago.
— I'm feeling honoured being invited, — one of my colleagues tells me few minutes later. — I really am.
It's surprising but touching to hear and I'm glad they're having fun. They're blending together, many of them having never met each other before. I divide my time and speak to everybody, introducing folks when necessary. It's smooth.
— Can I sleep at your place? — It's hard to believe I'm asking this just a couple of weeks after I decided not to be visiting her anymore and kept refusing her invitations.
— Rather not. — She's firm and I know I should not argue. A kiss on the cheek and she's gone.
Still, somehow I feel much better than two weeks ago.
— I'm feeling honoured being invited, — one of my colleagues tells me few minutes later. — I really am.
It's surprising but touching to hear and I'm glad they're having fun. They're blending together, many of them having never met each other before. I divide my time and speak to everybody, introducing folks when necessary. It's smooth.
— Can I sleep at your place? — It's hard to believe I'm asking this just a couple of weeks after I decided not to be visiting her anymore and kept refusing her invitations.
— Rather not. — She's firm and I know I should not argue. A kiss on the cheek and she's gone.
Still, somehow I feel much better than two weeks ago.
22 January 2012
A week in the life
A friend of mine died last Sunday. I was only told on Monday and just could not get, could not comprehend it. My brightest recollection of the times we had? Sharing a joint in front of our corporate offices with a number of colleagues passing by. Very funny and daring back then. Very numbing now. Very, very numbing.
Monday, it was her birthday — and she asked me to come see her. I emailed her back, a bit harshly. Yeah, it could had been a hair softer, yet what would had been different? Nothing would had changed.
Went home and drove my ex in instead — to have someone to look after me. It was a primal need; calming, calming, calming.
Come Tuesday, I did not feel much better. Could not stop thinking about it. He was only 35. Fucking 35. One day he's here, the next one, click, he's gone. Fucking gone.
Wednesday. Meeting with a CEE lead of a major corporation, long miles away from home. Driving there and back; exhausted but happier. Happier — only 'cos exhausted. My ex is still at my place, still looking after me. I'm grateful. This time around, I can appreciate it.
Thursday. Difficult talks. There's few people who won't be working for us next month and they don't know yet. Plus a party in a posh hotel for a bunch of wannabe VIP clients in the evening. They get wasted, it's free. I talk, I laugh, I take the bill. And drive some of them home. Classic.
On Friday, I found out that my director is amongst those who got smashed. He misses a couple of morning meetings, comes in late and leaves early, being moody and slightly less articulate then usually. I split few minutes later, too.
Having a quick nap and meeting friends in a bar soon after. Off to a party shortly. Morgan, Morgan, and more Captain Morgan. I'm not drinking, just having a toast. Somebody is celebrating something. They all knew him, every single one of them. We used to party together but nobody utters a word, it's like a strange taboo. And his funeral was held earlier today. Tough, tough life.
Sleeping well past midday, then going through the shit at home, trashing a lot away. The less you have, the more you have. Things are not to be loved.
Saturday afternoon. A call from a friend. Join us for a dinner — our place at 8:00. Red or white? Get some red, I'm told.
Indian, ouzo, dubstep and two visiting Spanish girls who just flew in from Madrid. A nightclub. Then another. I'm a designated driver and I don't mind. This is a third night in a row, and the best one, too. Sipping water, smoking joints, dancing. Me, dancing; so unusual. Enjoying the night far more than I'd have hoped for.
Is this guy a foreigner? — a random chick asks me in a club, pointing to a friend who passed out on the sofa. Nah, he's a pure local, babe, I grin. She's no longer interested, walking away disappointed before I finish the sentence. Bitch.
It's a late morning, the sun is up. Talking to one of our girls when the music stops. We'll cook a Spanish dinner, you must come, she urges me seriously. Sure I will. Driving them home through the streets filling with shoppers and tourists, kissing her goodbye.
Dropping unconscious as soon as I reach my bed. Filled with weird feelings, mess, yet content. Bring it on, life; I adore you anyway.
Monday, it was her birthday — and she asked me to come see her. I emailed her back, a bit harshly. Yeah, it could had been a hair softer, yet what would had been different? Nothing would had changed.
Went home and drove my ex in instead — to have someone to look after me. It was a primal need; calming, calming, calming.
Come Tuesday, I did not feel much better. Could not stop thinking about it. He was only 35. Fucking 35. One day he's here, the next one, click, he's gone. Fucking gone.
Wednesday. Meeting with a CEE lead of a major corporation, long miles away from home. Driving there and back; exhausted but happier. Happier — only 'cos exhausted. My ex is still at my place, still looking after me. I'm grateful. This time around, I can appreciate it.
Thursday. Difficult talks. There's few people who won't be working for us next month and they don't know yet. Plus a party in a posh hotel for a bunch of wannabe VIP clients in the evening. They get wasted, it's free. I talk, I laugh, I take the bill. And drive some of them home. Classic.
On Friday, I found out that my director is amongst those who got smashed. He misses a couple of morning meetings, comes in late and leaves early, being moody and slightly less articulate then usually. I split few minutes later, too.
Having a quick nap and meeting friends in a bar soon after. Off to a party shortly. Morgan, Morgan, and more Captain Morgan. I'm not drinking, just having a toast. Somebody is celebrating something. They all knew him, every single one of them. We used to party together but nobody utters a word, it's like a strange taboo. And his funeral was held earlier today. Tough, tough life.
Sleeping well past midday, then going through the shit at home, trashing a lot away. The less you have, the more you have. Things are not to be loved.
Saturday afternoon. A call from a friend. Join us for a dinner — our place at 8:00. Red or white? Get some red, I'm told.
Indian, ouzo, dubstep and two visiting Spanish girls who just flew in from Madrid. A nightclub. Then another. I'm a designated driver and I don't mind. This is a third night in a row, and the best one, too. Sipping water, smoking joints, dancing. Me, dancing; so unusual. Enjoying the night far more than I'd have hoped for.
Is this guy a foreigner? — a random chick asks me in a club, pointing to a friend who passed out on the sofa. Nah, he's a pure local, babe, I grin. She's no longer interested, walking away disappointed before I finish the sentence. Bitch.
It's a late morning, the sun is up. Talking to one of our girls when the music stops. We'll cook a Spanish dinner, you must come, she urges me seriously. Sure I will. Driving them home through the streets filling with shoppers and tourists, kissing her goodbye.
Dropping unconscious as soon as I reach my bed. Filled with weird feelings, mess, yet content. Bring it on, life; I adore you anyway.
12 January 2012
Encore
For the most part, I'm holding him tight as he's acting unpredictably. Poor slob, I wonder what his fate would be once he loses his true home. I feel for him. She cannot manage anymore and he's to go. This may very well be the last time I'm walking him.
We're strolling silently along each other and I smile at her whenever our eyes meet. I don't wanna talk; I enjoy this somewhat unpleasant situation — enough was said and I grew tired of repeating myself over and over again. She'd talk — I see she'd talk — if only I started and made it slightly easier for her.
Her place. She's inviting me in, just for a minute, she begs. There's no pretension, not a bit, and I'm aware this is the hardest part. The parting part. Please, stay, she looks at me and my heartbeat skips. She's pushing, it's crystal clear she'd like to spend more time with me.
Few weeks ago, I'd do, too, I'd love to shut the door behind me, seize her and throw her on the bed, tearing off her clothes and doing it. Tonight, I don't even fantasise. Bye, I utter — and I'm gone. Gone to heal my wounds.
We're strolling silently along each other and I smile at her whenever our eyes meet. I don't wanna talk; I enjoy this somewhat unpleasant situation — enough was said and I grew tired of repeating myself over and over again. She'd talk — I see she'd talk — if only I started and made it slightly easier for her.
Her place. She's inviting me in, just for a minute, she begs. There's no pretension, not a bit, and I'm aware this is the hardest part. The parting part. Please, stay, she looks at me and my heartbeat skips. She's pushing, it's crystal clear she'd like to spend more time with me.
Few weeks ago, I'd do, too, I'd love to shut the door behind me, seize her and throw her on the bed, tearing off her clothes and doing it. Tonight, I don't even fantasise. Bye, I utter — and I'm gone. Gone to heal my wounds.
05 January 2012
Out there
Tell me I'll never have to be out there again — that's what Harry's and Sally's sidekicks promise each other after they receive withdrawn phone calls from their respective friends.
It's easy to comprehend why people are ready to accept unacceptable. Fear. Fear of being left alone and forgotten is what drives all those thirty-somethings to act; suddenly willing to compromise and settle. Often settle for less. Fear of being passed by. Fear of unknown. The same drives people to stay in not-so-overly-happy relationships. Linger, linger, linger a bit more. I understand the concept very well. Just am not willing to follow and participate anymore.
She's still filling my thoughts, throughout. I cannot stop thinking about her. Yet even as we spent evenings walking together I kept contemplating.
Was this to be? Such a simple question and such uncertainty. Forget it, I had been told by everyone in the know. Things done cannot be undone, I've known her already too well and cannot take all those moments back. It's late, far too late. So much for forgetting.
OK. Cool. Hopefully just a half a year of cold turkey and I'll be fine.
Or at least slightly better.
It's easy to comprehend why people are ready to accept unacceptable. Fear. Fear of being left alone and forgotten is what drives all those thirty-somethings to act; suddenly willing to compromise and settle. Often settle for less. Fear of being passed by. Fear of unknown. The same drives people to stay in not-so-overly-happy relationships. Linger, linger, linger a bit more. I understand the concept very well. Just am not willing to follow and participate anymore.
She's still filling my thoughts, throughout. I cannot stop thinking about her. Yet even as we spent evenings walking together I kept contemplating.
Was this to be? Such a simple question and such uncertainty. Forget it, I had been told by everyone in the know. Things done cannot be undone, I've known her already too well and cannot take all those moments back. It's late, far too late. So much for forgetting.
OK. Cool. Hopefully just a half a year of cold turkey and I'll be fine.
Or at least slightly better.
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