~ don't blame cocco! ~

it's not the right season for a coconut

yes. this lovely quotation taken from my brother's sayings occupies my head for some time now. last months are even sponsored by a new coconut fragrance that turns my mind coconut, of course, and totally positive and... nuts (; and it seems all the goodness i've been obstinately sending out to the world is slowly coming back. even circumpolar winter is mild this year. i'm walking, singing and smiling.

tell them you've been licking coconut skins

yesterday i played this song and it filled the rest of my day. it's always been one of my favs but it wasn't before then that i've realized it's just perfect for my coconut present.

or you can sit on chimneys~!

because hell is for heroes, of course. to run a short balance of the last days: i lost my favourite raspberry earring when dancing, i was making sketches on every single lecture and all were crazy and nice - at last reaching good momentum for creating visual stuff. i also got a hellish throat infection which makes my voice way too useless even now - a week after the relative recovery. i danced a lot, went to jokkmokk for workshops again and heard some of the most touching and reflexive stories about jojk ever told by members of the most famous saami theatre group in sweden. i froze my everything off because my clothes are not suitable for any winter. and so i end up quoting my brother here and planning another week.
of what i see, it will be just as much coco-nuts.

tell you, i'm cooking coconut skins

~ accidental babies ~

i remember when i walked along the river last week and sang because it was the only way to keep the thoughts out of my head.

and if you hate me, hate me, hate me

i remember when i walked a few days ago in sofiehem and gimonäs looking for a house, sang a song that loosened the cord so that i could breathe freely.
it got dark and freezing cold, but kept on wandering around, determined to find what i was looking for. well... i failed, stopped now and then to take some photos, then got completely lost. luckily, the way back home was finally found, yet the woods, road, deserted paths, night and chilly needles did their job. i felt alone. truly, naturally alone.

then hate me so good that you can let me out

how singing always helps out.
how music always is.

and how good it is sometimes to jump and land on the ground just to feel it under the feet.

~ raindrop calamities ~

i'm facing the street lamp outside my window right now. its light is seeping through the shutters and tiny prisms of rain are glittering with oddly white hue.

it's good here. harmony is still to be regained but otherwise... it's good. only when i sit down for a while and let my thoughts and emotions float unoccupied i can't resist this feeling that always lurks in silence when i'm far away from home.

maybe it's my imagination. maybe this feeling of semi-existence in a shadow-like or a wind-like state is just an indicator of my oversensitivity. but what if i simply need to touch people? hug, and cuddle, pat, caress, do stuff with hair or just sit close to someone, lean on a being with a beating heart and a radiant soul. what if i find it hard to live without those moments when my thoughts melt with someone else's, when i feel we're both roaming in a very intimate and vulnerable area. a soft place where people can be truly themselves and - truly with others.

leave me out with the waste
this is not what I do
it's the wrong kind of place
to be thinking of you

it's the wrong time
for somebody new
it's a small crime
and I've got no excuse

damien rice's embracing voice in the speakers kinda makes it only more vivid. the people i've met here so far are warm and open so i can easily regard myself as lucky. the but here is that it's not the idea because i'm the one who can't live on without touching. when the post-arrival dizziness and enthusiasm have passed, the longing for a true together-being is settling in and preparing to turn me into a spiritually transparent, ontologically unconfirmed passer-by.
longing for the essence. for instead of a ribbon around my wrist, i'd prefer some true blood in my veins.

give my gun away when it's loaded