Do you know...
“no matter how much I struggle with this world, the distance created between us just brings us closer” E. Cioran
“I don’t have ideas. I have obsessions. Anyone can have ideas. Nobody has ever fallen down from ideas.” E. Cioran.
Marriage is the politically correct name for the make-shift purgatory between suicide and murder. The proverbial eye of the beholder isn’t big enough for the both of us.
Relationships and felatiodrips
…you know how when you cry it’s waves and waves…I cried once, I remember it was like solid, no waves, nothin’…for twenty minutes or somethin’ thought I was gonna pass out, couldn’t even inhale properly…it was like exhaling cement for twenty minutes without inhaling…shit…
you know how sometimes when you go diving in the sea and your foot gets caught in some coral shit and you look above at the 4 meters of salted water and the surface smiles at you and waves goodbye as it seems to be going away and how at that moment you know exactly, to the decimal point, the amount of usable oxygen you still have at the top of your lungs and for one second you think you’re not gonna’ make it, but a bigger wave then the one that got you stuck comes along and releases your ankle and fills your eyes and ears with bottomsand and you flail your limbs about in all directions ‘till the back of your left hand breaks the surface and is instantly dried by the scorching sun and then the rest of you, still flailing about, breaks surface like a marlin on his last attempt to rid himself of that piece of pointy, steely sea bass that’s hurting his jaw, first in pain and then scared ‘cause you’re still alone at large and how you then half-swim, half-float on to the beach, still crying, your ears still full of bottomsand, a bleeding ankle and nothing more and you know how then you’re so fucking exhausted that almost instantaneously you fall asleep only to wake up in the middle of the night with half your face covered in sand that glued itself to the dried up tears and your ankle had also stopped bleeding mended by sand pebbles and how your first instinct is to go back in the water to wash yourself even though you know it is cold and how after, if you do so, as soon as that first wave hits the knees, you’re scared again?
Do you know what I mean?...shit…
or you know how when you’re sitting in the train, on your reserved seat, reading, a book that may or may not be considered as “cool”, but you’re open to what others have to say and why and you notice, mostly diagonally right ,in front of you, a pretty girl that smiles everytime you lose your gaze in her direction, at the end of every chapter and how she seems mildly interested in your reading material and she won’t avoid your stare like the others and you do that slapstick turn your head “did you mean me?” look that has her smiling again and then you go over to her and you introduce yourself to her just as she was introducing herself to you, so you don’t really catch her name and you avoid putting yourself in situations in which you’d have to use it and how she smiles again and says that she finished the book you’re reading last week and thought it was shit and how you feel a little less “cool” but admire her boldness and then the “bring the water to a boil” small talk period after which you exchange email addresses because she just got a new sim card and doesn’t know her number, unfortunate also that her telephone battery ran out, and how when you decide to invite her for a cold one and maybe some crisps in the restaurant coach, the feedbacked voice of the train manager announces the next station and how she smiles and says goodbye and asks you politely to let her pass your dumbstrucked knees and how you are left with a fake email address and a faint memory of pitchblack eyes and shiny lipbalmed lips and someone gets on the train and claims that the seat you’re in is theirs and you try to move back to your seat and notice a family of four all cramed in it, sleeping and you decide to continue to the restaurant coach and have a cold one with some crisps and a though-over and as the doors close you see the girl talking to a taxi driver on the platform and she sees you and you wave and she smiles back without that certain hint of “I wish I could be there” that you would’ve liked to see and then how you, in your pride, turn your back and buy yourself a cold one and some crisps to have alone and then the same feedbacked voice of the train manager welcoming new passengers and announcing the following stops and how it only then dawns on you that you had passed your stop hours ago, probably during the “bring the water to a boil” small talk period and how you can’t do anything about it and invoke some shit like destiny as a substitute for your foolishness and then you drink your beer and have your crisps feeling completely “uncool”?
Do you know what I mean?...shit…
and have you noticed how people always ask how far away they are from something or somewhere and not how close, ‘cause they need pity and the strongest bond one can form with a stranger is in common sorrow and how a tear will drown a smile anyday and those who try to make you smile when you’re crying do it more for themselves and their guilt of many other things, than for your present situation and how you comply and smile with tears in your eyes, so they can feel better about themselves and their jesus complex?
Do you know what I mean?...shit…
and did you notice how if someone’s eating a burger beside you and you’re appalled and disgusted and proud of your LT on whole wheat, that three days later you’ll be needing a burger more than anything you’ve ever needed in your life and how it obviously has to have extra ketchup and extra mayo and extra mustard which eventually land on your extra favourite shirt and how you’re so addicted to your brain you don’t give a shit and three days later when you see another person downing a burger beside you, you’ll be appalled and disgusted again but this time at yourself?
Do you know what I mean?...shit…
Alex Catona
“I don’t have ideas. I have obsessions. Anyone can have ideas. Nobody has ever fallen down from ideas.” E. Cioran.
Marriage is the politically correct name for the make-shift purgatory between suicide and murder. The proverbial eye of the beholder isn’t big enough for the both of us.
Relationships and felatiodrips
…you know how when you cry it’s waves and waves…I cried once, I remember it was like solid, no waves, nothin’…for twenty minutes or somethin’ thought I was gonna pass out, couldn’t even inhale properly…it was like exhaling cement for twenty minutes without inhaling…shit…
you know how sometimes when you go diving in the sea and your foot gets caught in some coral shit and you look above at the 4 meters of salted water and the surface smiles at you and waves goodbye as it seems to be going away and how at that moment you know exactly, to the decimal point, the amount of usable oxygen you still have at the top of your lungs and for one second you think you’re not gonna’ make it, but a bigger wave then the one that got you stuck comes along and releases your ankle and fills your eyes and ears with bottomsand and you flail your limbs about in all directions ‘till the back of your left hand breaks the surface and is instantly dried by the scorching sun and then the rest of you, still flailing about, breaks surface like a marlin on his last attempt to rid himself of that piece of pointy, steely sea bass that’s hurting his jaw, first in pain and then scared ‘cause you’re still alone at large and how you then half-swim, half-float on to the beach, still crying, your ears still full of bottomsand, a bleeding ankle and nothing more and you know how then you’re so fucking exhausted that almost instantaneously you fall asleep only to wake up in the middle of the night with half your face covered in sand that glued itself to the dried up tears and your ankle had also stopped bleeding mended by sand pebbles and how your first instinct is to go back in the water to wash yourself even though you know it is cold and how after, if you do so, as soon as that first wave hits the knees, you’re scared again?
Do you know what I mean?...shit…
or you know how when you’re sitting in the train, on your reserved seat, reading, a book that may or may not be considered as “cool”, but you’re open to what others have to say and why and you notice, mostly diagonally right ,in front of you, a pretty girl that smiles everytime you lose your gaze in her direction, at the end of every chapter and how she seems mildly interested in your reading material and she won’t avoid your stare like the others and you do that slapstick turn your head “did you mean me?” look that has her smiling again and then you go over to her and you introduce yourself to her just as she was introducing herself to you, so you don’t really catch her name and you avoid putting yourself in situations in which you’d have to use it and how she smiles again and says that she finished the book you’re reading last week and thought it was shit and how you feel a little less “cool” but admire her boldness and then the “bring the water to a boil” small talk period after which you exchange email addresses because she just got a new sim card and doesn’t know her number, unfortunate also that her telephone battery ran out, and how when you decide to invite her for a cold one and maybe some crisps in the restaurant coach, the feedbacked voice of the train manager announces the next station and how she smiles and says goodbye and asks you politely to let her pass your dumbstrucked knees and how you are left with a fake email address and a faint memory of pitchblack eyes and shiny lipbalmed lips and someone gets on the train and claims that the seat you’re in is theirs and you try to move back to your seat and notice a family of four all cramed in it, sleeping and you decide to continue to the restaurant coach and have a cold one with some crisps and a though-over and as the doors close you see the girl talking to a taxi driver on the platform and she sees you and you wave and she smiles back without that certain hint of “I wish I could be there” that you would’ve liked to see and then how you, in your pride, turn your back and buy yourself a cold one and some crisps to have alone and then the same feedbacked voice of the train manager welcoming new passengers and announcing the following stops and how it only then dawns on you that you had passed your stop hours ago, probably during the “bring the water to a boil” small talk period and how you can’t do anything about it and invoke some shit like destiny as a substitute for your foolishness and then you drink your beer and have your crisps feeling completely “uncool”?
Do you know what I mean?...shit…
and have you noticed how people always ask how far away they are from something or somewhere and not how close, ‘cause they need pity and the strongest bond one can form with a stranger is in common sorrow and how a tear will drown a smile anyday and those who try to make you smile when you’re crying do it more for themselves and their guilt of many other things, than for your present situation and how you comply and smile with tears in your eyes, so they can feel better about themselves and their jesus complex?
Do you know what I mean?...shit…
and did you notice how if someone’s eating a burger beside you and you’re appalled and disgusted and proud of your LT on whole wheat, that three days later you’ll be needing a burger more than anything you’ve ever needed in your life and how it obviously has to have extra ketchup and extra mayo and extra mustard which eventually land on your extra favourite shirt and how you’re so addicted to your brain you don’t give a shit and three days later when you see another person downing a burger beside you, you’ll be appalled and disgusted again but this time at yourself?
Do you know what I mean?...shit…
Alex Catona
posted by VDT artists at
7:15 pm
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