THE BLOG

it is deep night outside my lidless windows. yeah, my windows have no curtains. it is troublesome. and I feel heavy. real heavy. sort of huge, like if I could fill any space with myself. I am filling this room now and there is no space left for anything else. and I walk the streets every day and I feel like if some invisible weight is attached to me. like if I was light and ethereal in the core, but this solid body dragging me to the ground and almost growing roots in the pavement.

this place sucks. too much emotions. too much humanism. too much fears. I wish to alter my consciousness, so that I should never think of anything again.

nejauši atradu vienu brīnumu. Nightwish - High Hopes. tas ir vājprātā stilīgs Pink Floyd covers. es te klausos visu dienu un vienkārši kaifā mirstu. ļoti sen nebiju dzirdējis šo ģeniālo gabalu. Pink Floyd for ever! :)

maķ, jau kuro reizi pārliecinos, ka DJ ir ģeniāls. ielogojos kurbelē pēc vairāku gadsimtu pārtraukuma, un, ko es tur redzu? kaut kādu sīko, kas uztaisījis šadu pavedienu:

Pirmkārt atvainojos, ja esmu iztaisijis topiku nepareizajā apakšforumā.
Tātad, vai ir iespējams izsaukt suņa (vai kāda cita dzīvnieka) garu? Un ja var, tad kā?
Ceru kad palīdzēsiet :)

tam visam seko vairāku gādīgu cilvēku sagādāti linki uz pamācībām par to, kā jākruķī ouija boards, bet tad uzrodas DJ un viņam atbild šādi:

Kā tad, ka var. Tas ir ļoti vienkārši. Vispirms ir jāpaņem uzasināts miets un uz tā jāuzsprauž mirušais suns. Suns ir jānoskuj un tā spalvas ir jāsadedzina ietītas bērzu tāsī, taču nedrīkst viebties no smakas, kas nāk sadegot spalvām. Ja saviebjas, tad gars tiek saplosīts 1000 daļas. Tālāk mirušajam un noskūtajam sunim ir jāuztetovē jautājums kuru tu viņam gribi prasīt un tad jāgaida pilnmēnes pusnakts, kura laikā jāpaņem miets rokā un jāgroza pa asi līdz suns aizlido pa gaisu. Brīdī kad suns ir aizlidojis ir jābļauj "Auuuu! Atbildi mirusī kuce". Ja suns nokrīt sar skaļu blīkšķi, tad tas nozīmē, ka suņa gars atbildējis jā, ja blīkšķa nav, tad tas nozīmē nē.
Kā redzams ļoti vienkāršs un praktisks suņa gara izsaukšanas paņēmiens.

jomajo, kā es rēcu! :)))

taisot cibas stilu, atradu vienu sen aizmirstu darbu. šo ir rakstījuši divi cilvēki. pavisam nejauši.

I

Step by step he climbed making his way to the very top of the ziggurat, his blue-black cloak billowing around him as if in swirls of cosmic abyss.
Reaching the shrines colonnade he entered with assured strides and went straight to the central cauldron, which stood now cold and empty for all these long years. He climbed up into the cauldron and with a flowing movement pulled out a bottle of oil pouring it over his head, while with the other hand he conjured a flame out of thin air that burned bright red in his palm.
He looked up to the hole in the dome and shouted up at the skies: “If the gods have forgotten their children and refuse to come to us, then we will come to them and rise to the heavens lit by the flame of our conviction!”
With these words he set himself on fire. The flames covering him from foot to head. In just a few seconds he became a human torch. His arms rose to the side as he screamed: “I am a child of the stars, you cannot deny me my flight!”
At this point scorching wings of flame erupted from his back and he took flight breaking through the dome shooting as an arrow straight for heaven.
A comet circling the globe signified the coming of a new age and once again the fires of heavenly spirit burned across all nations as beacons to guide those that dared to defy an earthly fate.

II

and so he seared through the dark sky like a burning star. he watched the cities full with their ant-life below, he watched as they were all busy with their mundanity, ceaselessly in endless pursuits of lesser goals, engaged in ridiculous quests even during the beautiful and starlit night that had come on them as usual, yet ever so enchanting and miraculous. this enwreathing darkness always served as a refuge to him, chanelling through his very awareness like a soothing breeze.

sky was low tonight, it hung over the cities below like a massive and dark force about to crush on earth and wreck everything, though no one below ever managed to percept it, for them the sky was just a sky. just a constant and vast appearance that is always there. but for him the sky was the only place where he felt like home, whatever the concept of home was to him. for him, the sky was the eternal temple of peace, where different winds from different places of the earth cradled him away in his endless oblivion of wisdom - a future for which he had craved so much that he had once lit himself in the flames of conviction and took flight towards the sky, marking his goal as the further end of the universe. ablaze in the divine fire thas was fuelled by his fears, he wanted to know, he wanted to feel, he wanted to reach out... until there would be nothing new to know.

with wings of fire gloriously spread he fell through the clouds, yearning for their caress and the ultimate peace that was held within them. his sadness was spreading through his surroundings and altering the reality, it went in all directions like a ripple of water, like an infection it devoured the clouds and remade them, until they hung dark and massive, filled with storm. a flash of anger... a flash of lightning! and the rain started to pour down heavily. the city below began to soak, all the dirt and filth was washing away from the streets, purifying and relieving it.

and there it was - a little girl came out onto the street and lifted her gaze towards the sky. she enjoyed the rain. she felt it contained some strange force that made her skin tingle in a pleasant sensation. she enjoyed it as within seconds she was completely soaked, holding her eyes wide, watching as the raindrops fall down, occasionally hitting in the eyes and blurring the vision. and then through the wall of the rain she saw something. on the edge of her sight there was a hint of a winged shape, floating in the sky. she closed her eyes and smiled.

vot ziniet... sekss vienmēr ir bezpersonisks. jebkāda seksuāla darbība, skūpstīšanās, glāstīšana, jebkas - tas viss ir bezpersonisks. tajā procesā nav vietas domām. tu tikai dari. tu zini, ko cilvēks vēlas, tu zini kā to izdarīt, tu cilvēkam kaut ko sniedz un saņem ko līdzīgu pretī. tā ir iekāre. tā ir sarkana enerģija. tā ir vēlme. tā ir ātra elpa. tā ir brīža apsēstība. tā ir laba sajūta. un tur nav vietas domām vai personībām. tie ir mūsu ķermeņi, nevis mūsu prāti.

tā kā principā vajadzētu būt vienalga ar ko. bet tomēr nav vienalga. par to vēl vajag pameditēt.

pārlasīju savus dzejolīšus, klausoties The Birthday Massacre. aizlidot var, goda vārds... daudz to stulbo dzejoļu ir sakrājies, bet katrs tomēr joprojām izraisa toreizējo emociju. katrs ir stāsts par kaut ko notikušu. interesanti, bet tomēr bezjēdzīgi. un vispār jau arī skumji.

does freedom taste like freedom, now once we have it?
the sky is free, we just have to fly
but do we know where...?

( vēl dažādi atsevišķi panti... )

divos naktī, kad atradāmies kaut kur nafig ellē ratā pleskavas šosejas ceļmalā, guļot uz mašīnas siltā kapota un skatoties zvaigznēs, mēs sapratām, ka mūsu eksistence sevi nekad neattaisnos. neviens varoņdarbs vai sasniegums nekad nebūs kaut kas vairāk par smilšu graudiņu jūras krastā. nebija jau arī nekur jāsteidzas.

- ...un kā tur ir? labāk nekā te?
- tev tur nav ķermeņa. tu esi kā lode, kā matemātiskais punkts. tu jūti, redzi un dzirdi ar visu savu virsmu visas puses reizē. da nevar jau arī īsti salīdzināt ar šejieni... tas vienkārši ir citādāk. tu vari aizlidot kaut vai uz to tur zvaigzni. jebkur. jebko.
- jā, izklausās patīkami. pat pārāk...
- mhm, aizejot par tālu, varot gadīties, ka vairs negribēsies atgriezties.

daudz zvaigžņu. mēs guļam un skatāmies tajā visā kā zvaigžņotā bezdibenī. debesis vairs nav virs mums, mēs stāvam to malā un lūkojamies lejā. vajag tik palekties un varētu sākt krist. kaut vai uz to tur zvaigzni.

- ai, moš braukt mājā...?
- Inx, tu nesaproti? mums taču nav māju!
- eh, bļe...
- patiesībā es arī nezinu vai mums pietiek benzīna līdz Rīgai...

smiekli pašiem par sevi, jautrība, apakšā siltums no motora. nav māju... sajūta ir dīvaina, bet tajā pat laikā ļoti patīkama. jo nekas slikts taču nav noticis - mums ir silti, jautri, patīkami. un mēs stāvam bezdibeņa malā ar nepārvaramu vēlmi lekt.