Missing limbs

It's such a beautiful day today.

My ex made a very good observation - he said it's strange that I always look up to check if the skies are still there. A bit like Asterix's fellow-villagers, who feared that the sky may fall on their heads at any time.

I guess what I'm fearing is to wake up one day and find that not even a beautiful sky is reason enough to carry on.

The eyes and lips of people on the street and in the metro don't leave much room for hope. Weighted down by gravity and speed, they look like random traces in the sand. Soon all the people will look alike, aged, ageless stick-figures. An up-pointing semi-circle, the mouth. Two crosses, the eyes. A hole in their chest, missing feelings. No worries, they can be easily replaced. Fill it with words or chocolate.

Meanwhile, I got back the feeling in my left ring-finger. It still feels empty from time to time, but it's getting better.

If worse came to worse, the Chat can chew it to the bone.

Third time's the charm

I had this little habit of playing with my ring. I catch myself rubbing my thumb and ring finger - futilely.
My ex-boyfriend really doesn't want to be my boyfriend anymore - he told me so at each of our three break-ups. So it's about time I start believing...

I still check my mail and my phone and even the letterbox. Oh, he did ask for a compass. A real one, broken.

So so tired now.

The Chat would curl up -

 I guess I never wondered if he was really happy. I just assumed such was the case. I'm quite unsatisfied of how things went down. One gives and takes and gives - and when one can take no more, there's a bit of frustration. A feeling of inequity.

That ring finger I was talking about - it deserves an ode, at least. It's as if it went missing, along with a part of myself. I hope it's only habit, I hope it's not forever. Such a shame, if the heart were to shrivel-

- and die.

Melancholia

Humans
Everything always
Nothing nowhere

The Chat wonders about this end of the world - nothing seems to actually happen, but maybe this feline should be happy about it.

Gently lonely

The sound of my heels makes the strange man before me turn around. He says to himself that yes indeed he had heard something. This quaint street in a Parisian neighbourhood isn't so quiet though. And he has his headphones on. How atuned must he be with the world around him. How his insides must churn with loneliness. His mind is the desert. It pays nothing to search inside your own world. There is no water to feed the weeds. There are no weeds to begin with. No object to bestow your love or your admiration upon.

Another man my heels cross notices how many little shops line up here. He too says it outloud, to no one in particular. My heart breaks a little, but it thinks mainly of itself and of a time when such need to communicate might rise within myself. Too late. I'm already thinking outloud. My streets are empty, no step makes me hope for an accidental ear.

The Chat seeks the confort of paws, its own too small for such a big head.

The Psychologist's Couch

Just Got Ditched! Yay! Not. I don't think I'm in love anymore, but it still hurts and I wonder why. Is companionship like any habit, more or less hard to pick up and give up? Doesn't say much good about my human nature, in that case. Would it have hurt less if I hadn't been through a hellish day today, what with Parisian buses and all? I don't know and I hate being so lost. A thought about whoring myself a bit crossed my mind, and despite almost constant self-destructive behaviour, it wouldn't be a revenge and it wouldn't help my self-image. Besides, it's not nice to use people, even if they use you right back, is it?
I wish for a better soul to take care of me.

The Chat longs for forgetful sleep.

Seeing Red

Stumbled a week ago upon this wonderful singer. And she's gorgeous too.

No copyright infringement intended.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6_lF0Klz5Y

"Loving Strangers" by Russian Red

The image comes from: http://www.listal.com/viewimage/387374 (Added by andré gomes on 9 November 2008)

Again, no copyright infringement intended. And thank you to those who posted the song and the photo!

The Chat can't stop purring.

Universal Sign Language

So. I was out and runing this evening and not 10 seconds into my run I was nicely encouraged to continue by a couple of teenagers (I think): "Run, Forrest, run!".

Amazed by their culture and witticism, I was only able to reply a few seconds later, by that very eloquent third finger of our superior limbs.

How come one only feels smart when comparing oneself with others? "I am so intelligent, I must be, seeing as you're so stupid..."

It could be an effort to exist - make oneself aknowledge by another, be it just a passer-by. Too bad it was done by trying to hurt. I wonder if my aknowledging this phrase amounts to walking into their trap. Or made this sad encounter into a dialogue.

And yet I can't help but feel pretty great, as I rarely stand up for myself. It felt like a victory, like saying "Yep, heard ya, don't give a damn, go *duck yourself".

The Chat would eat a duck, but killing is against his beliefs. And against the law, here, in Paris.

Public Library

It seems I'm only writing in these places so I can brag about it. On the down side, it's freaking cold in here as well, seeing as I'm in the hall of the library. But it's my choice, there's more space here than in the library room.

Thinking yesterday that I should really learn to like myself or rather put more effort into turning myself into a person I could like. I am going to have to live with myself until the end, after all. Egoism seems so easy to motivate - our path is the only life-long project we have a personal interest in. It is extremely brief, if one isn't a believer in the existence of other lives or universes. So, one should enjoy it, even to the extreme. Altruism, however, can be as easily explained - would you live all of your life with an egoistical a$$hole?

The Chat bangs it philosophical head on the table and goes back to its comulsory tasks. Ta ta!