septiņjūdžu zābaks' Journal

1:34pm: uz skatuves uznāk personāži
no skatuves aiziet personāži
aplausi
asaras
laiks

2:16pm: ko tad šorīt mēs tādi jūtīgi mhmh?
nū, lūk tādi esam, neizgulējušies, problēmiņas nerisinām, komentāriņus lasām, he he

1:50pm: drusku palasīju komentārus fb kkādā random grupā nejauši.
wtf. nē, nopietni
wtf?

bļā, es vnk sēdēšu mājās visu dzīvi

bet nē, tev būs iet un runāt un strādāt ar viņiem, un draudzēties, un izlikties, ka negribi viņiem maukt pa šņurbuli pēc katra pilnīgi debīlā un pilnīgi perversā joka, kas tiek pavadīts paša aklumu slāpējošiem smiekliem, tie skan kaut kur no kuņģa vai kādas zarnas kā super-zemā frekvence, kas automātiski atslēdz smadzenes un nervus

8:43pm: light of million suns

8:28pm: 4.05
vikipēdijā pētu čakras
mūlādāra, svādistāna..skan gandrīz kā afganistāna

3:13pm: this passive centripetal scares me

kind of maelstroms ?

2:32pm: you are walking sign, living symbol
so now what?

5:00pm: lasu darba sludinājumus un baidos

2:34pm: ko nozīmē viena noļukusi auss cilvēkam?

2:33pm: latvijas garīgā līdzsvara pamatlicējs

6:19pm: mysterious day
ceiling fell down around 2 pm
alarm at 17:16
alarm at 17:23
alarm at 17:25 four times
alarm at 17:27 three times
not remembering anything like settting it up nor reason for doing so
what is that you’re trying to tell me, my dear guardian angel?

1:56pm: dreams are like snow

2:33pm: summer please stay

1:38pm: ai lav jū

1:02pm: she thought, that being wounded is how the world is supposed to be, she thought it is her own fault, that she cannot shine, so she pretended she can. standing with her mother who does not love her and above all is also dead, she were wondering why this stunningly clever and blissful woman cannot feel anything for her, but guilt. maybe new skin will do the job, maybe she needs something borrowed, something old and something new

4:55pm: trains without schedule , just coming and going. you have to wait. stand there and wait. maybe the right train will come, and then, if number of passengers will be big enough, it will stop and let you in, and probably will even let you out in the right stop, if you will manage to buy a ticket, which is another challenge as the ticket seller thinks you are invisible, when actually you cannot speak.
your home has painted floor in gradient lilac, drawn by your father, that burns now with open fire. and you think its mistake, but no. it is not. don't try to correct anything, let it be. let it be.

5:27pm: i hate chess, i love authenticity, whatever that would be
i love music, very much so, but not rock. i hate rock
i love simplicity, humility, but not out of fear or moralistic narcissistic self-flattering reasons
i love love

1:15pm: have to write an essay in english literature, but i did not even read the novel, so i just tried to copy the novel instead. good old ways of getting grade while being extremely nihilistic towards the subject, pretending just being stupid.
while copying, i'm reading it anyway. writing just takes more time.
i'm just truly impatient, so i spend twice as much time as a result.
but .. do you even copy?

1:12pm: nothing is what it seems to be

6:49pm: american gods
i don't know

12:57pm: i wanted to get the prescription from the class professor, but for some reason i could not write it correctly, also the form was wrong, and everything about it was wrong.
wrong doctor, wrong hospital, wrong form and wrong name.
during class we were visited by extremely handsome assistant who wanted to see me in private environment, but as i found out later, was quite twisted and unattractive as a person.

12:49pm: salmon bones for my cat

4:23pm: i need a smile

3:44pm: they were telling me i was breaking rules, but i was sure i was not. then i decided to ask each of them individually - "what did you hear me say?". as it turned out, no one was able to tell anything, no one even heard me speaking. they just looked at me with sheep eyes and did not know what to say, considering the presence of angry class teacher, some just ran away, one even told they were disturbed by my words, shamelessly staring in my eyes knowing this is b-it. at that point it was more than clear, that the basis of this drama is not about truth at all.
or is it?

3:12pm: i saw him again, the old man, who is visiting me each time with different face. i was in an empty open-air stage, some kind of event that have not started yet. he was sitting peacefully writing down some notes with hint of blissful smile in his face. i was in black, going surely for the first row in the middle, looking as relaxed as possible.
later, when i was waiting in a long row by the entrance of some building, he, while passing by straight to the door, handed this previously seen note to me
besides all other i cannot remember, there was a text: blue is for happiness and red is for responsibility and love. responsibility and love was merged in one word