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The curling tendrils from your unshaven nostrils

Topics: relationships, solitude, natascha, emlekkonyv, haiku

2000-12-12


Displacement is unforgiveable. All I can think about is the distance from my love, the lies I tell to make my isolation greater, and a growing emptiness engulfing me. If I lose Vesna, which is a possibility, I think I'll become a hermit. She told me herself that she feels she could never love again -- ie, if we split up, she could never be with anyone else.


She feels like loving solitude, much like me.


This similarity, along with so many others I have with her, is staggeringly dumbfounding. Sad, stupid country music yawdles from speakers near to this dreadful McDonalds next to the Intercontinental Hotel. No phone, no contact, freedom, bliss?


Psychological exile encroaches like an unstoppable horde or plague. I miss Vanja and his steadfast manliness, belief in himself, and all that fucked up jive. Soon, he shall be my roomie. Him, my guitar, and, of course, solitude.


Dancing seems ridiculous to me.


Today's Special Haiku [IMG]


> I pen hidden truths

> Stiff pages suck at my ink

> And leakage threatens

Haiku Quadrology [IMG]


> Girls in santa hats

> With unapproachable laps

> Xmas illusion

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


> Experiments that

> Come on baby, light my fire

> Failed too many times

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


> Blue-black blood, red wine

> Stumbling, drunken leukocytes

> Forget the way home

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


> I fuck the deaf girl

> Lies or truth: to her, the same

> From whispering lips

John's Quote [IMG]


Insipid, important, plaintive night at *SMOKE* in NY -- the Upper West Side -- filled with nostalgia and emptiness. This pseudo funk / jazz band plays *cannot read this word* as John, NataĊĦa and I listen, detached but together in a strange synergy that transcends the alienation of another night unhinged.


Unreadable Word [IMG]


By *unhinged*, I mean detached (displaced?) from ever part of our former lives. Except John, of course, who is the status quo at such events -- and even a status quo in my life in general -- a base to **BASE** my ambitious and eccentricities on. Why not? My handwriting, appalling, berieves the enjoyment of this script. Sigh.


Natasha & John Quote [IMG]



tzifur (Martenblog home)

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