“I felt like sometimes she didn’t want me born. I was like Cinderella—even though I was a dude. She blamed me for everything. Maybe it’s because I was ugly, I guess. Girls were all running from me. My brothers were better looking. When I grew older, it was all about money. Mom and I never discussed anything personal. It seemed like she always wanted something from me. One time I called her crying, because I was trying to quit marijuana, and I felt really depressed. She just told me: ‘You’re wasting all that money on weed. You could be giving it to me instead.” She used to cash my student loan checks. One time she even used my social security number to get a credit card, and I didn’t even know until I got the bill. So I detached myself from her. I stopped answering the phone. Then two years ago she called to tell me she had cancer, and she needed an operation, but I didn’t even answer the phone. I thought she was tricking me again. She left a message, it said: ‘Michael, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. I love you. And I know you love me.’ And I just ignored it. And she died. And I’m haunted by that. I’ve been trying to write about my life lately, but I can’t get past my mother. I wish I could just start my story with that phone call. With her saying that she loved me. The only other time I ever felt love from her was when I tried crack cocaine. I was a teenager, and I had been using for a couple weeks, and I went in her room to ask for baking soda. She started crying, and she looked scared, and she said: ‘Michael, why do you need baking soda?’ And I felt love at that moment. And it was so strong that I quit doing crack right then. I never used again. I didn’t go to a program or anything. That’s how strong that feeling was.” - humans of new york

purva brideejam ir visskaistaakais filmas nobeigums manaa kino skatiishanaas veesturee. vieglums ar kaadu Kristiine nonjem savu pliivuru un viss pasaules smagums un liktenja gruutsirdiigums izgaist paaris mirkljos, ir hipnotizeejoshi. man shkjiet tas paraada visu un vieniigo, kas ir noziimiigi, un nevienai citai filmai es nekad neesmu ticeejusi.

es te dzeru siltaa istabaa vodku ar kaneeli no melnas kruuziites, un klausos Bat For Lashes, un domaaju par to, ka man ir pienaakums neizvairiities no taa ko visums man liek dariit

biju nopirkt kleitas vasarai, braucu atobusaa, skatiijos uz cilveekiem, dazhreiz uz ielas paliek tramiigi, tante uz mani pieturaa skatiijaas un smaidiija, indieshu viirietis eeda chipshus un aplaiziija triis pirkstus, meitene pirka kurpes kaadas vinjai bija kaajaas citaa tonii tikai.
bet man labaak nepalika. zveeru, ka shodiena ir diivaina, bet tikai man atkal, visa shii amburaazha tikai man shkjiet, liikumoju ar autobusu cauri pilseetai un tikai man shkjiet, ka viss leeni staajas kaa pirms veetras, atpaziistu cilveeku sejas kaa tajos sapnjos kur atpaziistu to kas nekad nav bijis, domaaju par cilveekiem, par vinju klaatbuutni, bet nee. juutos kaa melna jautaajuma ziime braukaaju apkaart. autobuss nostaajas pie parka, kaapju aaraa, gaidu uz luksaforu, veejsh puush matus, eju paari, kaapju uz parka, eju, zaale tik zalja, mazas baltas pukjiites, retie ozoli tik vareni, staav un saak zaljot, taads dabas miers un gribas man apseesties uz solinja, bet es nee, es visu dziivi sleepjos istabaas, shiten lisabonaa, shiten riigaa, shiten sheit. ai, ko tur daudz, vakarinjaas viins taatad.

kad es biju maza, man ljoti patika iet seenjot gar shosejas malu laukos, pa graavi. tur bija graavis, well, ne gluzhi, tur bija shosejas mala ar beerziem, un tad nedaudz zemaak tiirums. man tur patika iet seenjot rudenii, man taa shkjita lieliskaakaa lieta ko dariit, atrast seenes, daudzas mazas uzvarinjas, man vislabaak patika taas raganbekas, jo vinjas bija saartas ar zilganiem kaatiem, un ljoti lielas, tad es aptuveni sapratu, ka visskaistaakaas lietas dziivee ir indiigas un naaveejoshas.