took place indeed. Yes I met the models, hookers and wanna-be lovers. No I didn't see the city much. Has anything remained? As i sat on the return airplane, I had a strong feeling of intoxication with a couple of people in particular with one... Have I left my hear in Madrid? Thats yet to be seen but i definitely had to squeeze out some more love from that heart for yet another person. So to organize events, I arrived early afternoon and frantically looked for a barber and a gym so i could look good for my evening date with Allesandro the Brazilian hooker whom I mentioned in the previous chapter. The weather was hot and full of hot muscled young guys arriving for the gay pride. I guess to accomplish my task of finding a new boyfriend I could have been staying in my hotel for the whole time and just hanging out by the elevators, - those were full of beef with wide open eyes looking right and left checking everybody out. You could smell the air thickening from male pheromones. One day when I'm old and crippled by arthritis I will remember these days as so happy and so confusing. Sex drive and sex addiction being same for me, can both give you some of the most wonderful experiences and blind you to the outside world. Whats better?; go see the three important Madrid museums or make out for hours with three most gorgeous guys you can find. Maybe it takes two separate trips. On the pic it Tommy, one of the guys I met duriong that trip. Clearly pissed off at me and uncomfortable probably chewing his jaws at that moment - but therefore so adorable. So much passion in these eyes, so much yearning and insecurity, so much restrained anger - so much love mixed with hate. Once of the most endearing sights. I always thought that day with each glance Tommy was drilling with his piercing eyes inside my brain, looking for some answers trying to analyze me. Answers he didn't know for what. Poor thing was so lost and so angry one moment and so tender another. Turbulent youth at best. Today I miss him so much. In the next post I'll introduce another candidate carefully chosen for my little experiment. Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Crisis of Morality Part II (cont. from story started in the summer.)
It's December 2010 but 6 months later I still have my head full of thoughts on this summer Spanish trip of mind. So Lets rewind to July 7. Yes the trip took place indeed. Yes I met the models, hookers and wanna-be lovers. No I didn't see the city much. Has anything remained? As i sat on the return airplane, I had a strong feeling of intoxication with a couple of people in particular with one... Have I left my hear in Madrid? Thats yet to be seen but i definitely had to squeeze out some more love from that heart for yet another person. So to organize events, I arrived early afternoon and frantically looked for a barber and a gym so i could look good for my evening date with Allesandro the Brazilian hooker whom I mentioned in the previous chapter. The weather was hot and full of hot muscled young guys arriving for the gay pride. I guess to accomplish my task of finding a new boyfriend I could have been staying in my hotel for the whole time and just hanging out by the elevators, - those were full of beef with wide open eyes looking right and left checking everybody out. You could smell the air thickening from male pheromones. One day when I'm old and crippled by arthritis I will remember these days as so happy and so confusing. Sex drive and sex addiction being same for me, can both give you some of the most wonderful experiences and blind you to the outside world. Whats better?; go see the three important Madrid museums or make out for hours with three most gorgeous guys you can find. Maybe it takes two separate trips. On the pic it Tommy, one of the guys I met duriong that trip. Clearly pissed off at me and uncomfortable probably chewing his jaws at that moment - but therefore so adorable. So much passion in these eyes, so much yearning and insecurity, so much restrained anger - so much love mixed with hate. Once of the most endearing sights. I always thought that day with each glance Tommy was drilling with his piercing eyes inside my brain, looking for some answers trying to analyze me. Answers he didn't know for what. Poor thing was so lost and so angry one moment and so tender another. Turbulent youth at best. Today I miss him so much. In the next post I'll introduce another candidate carefully chosen for my little experiment.
took place indeed. Yes I met the models, hookers and wanna-be lovers. No I didn't see the city much. Has anything remained? As i sat on the return airplane, I had a strong feeling of intoxication with a couple of people in particular with one... Have I left my hear in Madrid? Thats yet to be seen but i definitely had to squeeze out some more love from that heart for yet another person. So to organize events, I arrived early afternoon and frantically looked for a barber and a gym so i could look good for my evening date with Allesandro the Brazilian hooker whom I mentioned in the previous chapter. The weather was hot and full of hot muscled young guys arriving for the gay pride. I guess to accomplish my task of finding a new boyfriend I could have been staying in my hotel for the whole time and just hanging out by the elevators, - those were full of beef with wide open eyes looking right and left checking everybody out. You could smell the air thickening from male pheromones. One day when I'm old and crippled by arthritis I will remember these days as so happy and so confusing. Sex drive and sex addiction being same for me, can both give you some of the most wonderful experiences and blind you to the outside world. Whats better?; go see the three important Madrid museums or make out for hours with three most gorgeous guys you can find. Maybe it takes two separate trips. On the pic it Tommy, one of the guys I met duriong that trip. Clearly pissed off at me and uncomfortable probably chewing his jaws at that moment - but therefore so adorable. So much passion in these eyes, so much yearning and insecurity, so much restrained anger - so much love mixed with hate. Once of the most endearing sights. I always thought that day with each glance Tommy was drilling with his piercing eyes inside my brain, looking for some answers trying to analyze me. Answers he didn't know for what. Poor thing was so lost and so angry one moment and so tender another. Turbulent youth at best. Today I miss him so much. In the next post I'll introduce another candidate carefully chosen for my little experiment. 
Crisis of Morality Part II (cont. from story started in the summer.)
It's December 2010 but 6 months later I still have my head full of thoughts on this summer Spanish trip of mind. So Lets rewind to July 7. Yes the trip took place indeed. Yes I met the models, hookers and wanna-be lovers. No I didn't see the city much. Has anything remained? As i sat on the return airplane, I had a strong feeling of intoxication with a couple of people in particular with one... Have I left my hear in Madrid? Thats yet to be seen but i definitely had to squeeze out some more love from that heart for yet another person. So to organize events, I arrived early afternoon and frantically looked for a barber and a gym so i could look good for my evening date with Allesandro the Brazilian hooker whom I mentioned in the previous chapter. The weather was hot and full of hot muscled young guys arriving for the gay pride. I guess to accomplish my task of finding a new boyfriend I could have been staying in my hotel for the whole time and just hanging out by the elevators, - those were full of beef with wide open eyes looking right and left checking everybody out. You could smell the air thickening from male pheromones. One day when I'm old and crippled by arthritis I will remember these days as so happy and so confusing. Sex drive and sex addiction being same for me, can both give you some of the most wonderful experiences and blind you to the outside world. Whats better?; go see the three important Madrid museums or make out for hours with three most gorgeous guys you can find. Maybe it takes two separate trips. On the pic it Tommy, one of the guys I met duriong that trip. Clearly pissed off at me and uncomfortable probably chewing his jaws at that moment - but therefore so adorable. So much passion in these eyes, so much yearning and insecurity, so much restrained anger - so much love mixed with hate. Once of the most endearing sights. I always thought that day with each glance Tommy was drilling with his piercing eyes inside my brain, looking for some answers trying to analyze me. Answers he didn't know for what. Poor thing was so lost and so angry one moment and so tender another. Turbulent youth at best. Today I miss him so much. In the next post I'll introduce another candidate carefully chosen for my little experiment.
took place indeed. Yes I met the models, hookers and wanna-be lovers. No I didn't see the city much. Has anything remained? As i sat on the return airplane, I had a strong feeling of intoxication with a couple of people in particular with one... Have I left my hear in Madrid? Thats yet to be seen but i definitely had to squeeze out some more love from that heart for yet another person. So to organize events, I arrived early afternoon and frantically looked for a barber and a gym so i could look good for my evening date with Allesandro the Brazilian hooker whom I mentioned in the previous chapter. The weather was hot and full of hot muscled young guys arriving for the gay pride. I guess to accomplish my task of finding a new boyfriend I could have been staying in my hotel for the whole time and just hanging out by the elevators, - those were full of beef with wide open eyes looking right and left checking everybody out. You could smell the air thickening from male pheromones. One day when I'm old and crippled by arthritis I will remember these days as so happy and so confusing. Sex drive and sex addiction being same for me, can both give you some of the most wonderful experiences and blind you to the outside world. Whats better?; go see the three important Madrid museums or make out for hours with three most gorgeous guys you can find. Maybe it takes two separate trips. On the pic it Tommy, one of the guys I met duriong that trip. Clearly pissed off at me and uncomfortable probably chewing his jaws at that moment - but therefore so adorable. So much passion in these eyes, so much yearning and insecurity, so much restrained anger - so much love mixed with hate. Once of the most endearing sights. I always thought that day with each glance Tommy was drilling with his piercing eyes inside my brain, looking for some answers trying to analyze me. Answers he didn't know for what. Poor thing was so lost and so angry one moment and so tender another. Turbulent youth at best. Today I miss him so much. In the next post I'll introduce another candidate carefully chosen for my little experiment. Friday, December 3, 2010
Fast Forward
Again and again I discover that writing the blog is like walking the dog - need to do it everyday - I knew that already, but it keeps on sneaking on me. Just when you're happy you dont write because you're too busy being happy, when you're depressed you dont write because you dont want to sound depressed and all your view on the reality is distorted. So you have to be kind of sad and definitely a bit lonely to feel like this task is what you can do well at the moment. Well I have to hurry because my ex with whom I am sharing a bed for a couple of nights in the snowing and frozen london, just arrived, and he snores. Once he finishes to eat in the kitchen and gets in to bed all the fun will be over. OK thats boring, cross that all out. What I meant to say is that being an artist or a writer is such an emotional roller-coaster - you live inside your head and then you really come out only when you're vulnerable. Budding artists and snails are the same in this respect. I used to think that most of greatest art was created out of sadness. Look at all the great composers, its pointless to name them. With each one there are these happier uplifting works and the deeply touching depressing, those that give you the sense of tragedy you never knew existed and depth of suffering you could not imagine was there. But above all its underlying sadness thats haunting. In all the happy moments, here and there like a sand many days after a visit to a beach, a note of sadness creeps in your shoe like a grain of sand and though being only one note, it cuts like a knife deep into the heart and plants the awful seed. So thats what I used to think now I dont know if I am only projecting my own laziness on other people who were much more awarded and worked for their fame very hard, but who knows they're all dead and those that are alive would never admit to being lazy. One I know that did was Czeslaw Milosz, I read in one or two of his poems how lazy he thought he was, but then he got a Nobel Prize and even lived to write about it. But yes - sad, lonely and distant from people seems to be the combination that works. Perhaps thats why I travel so much but, why in hell I chose those big cities. They're so full of wonderful adventures and so alienating, but that dichotomy is false. Anyway, he's snoring like a train. More later then.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
