ongelma - Finnish

Ärger - German

परेशानी - hindi

צרות - Hebrew

masalah - Indonesian

bėda - Luthuanian

aborrecimento - Portugese

неприятности - Russian

khó khăn - Vietnamese

Another day goes by, another day closer to what comes next. Another idea to apply, another thought to text.

A pain stuck in your chest, a smile from your best, you sit at an empty table.
A new theory to test, a frown to confess, you swing your glass to an old mans fable.

Another speech to make, another conversation to write. Another blind decision to make, another imporbabilty that might.

The melted ice swaying in your glass, the look you let slip, the empty chair thats opposite.
The wine that reminds you of grass, the make-up mark left by your lip, the other feelings fit.

...

Tomorrow at about 4pm i will have lived for 22 years. I think I might have to pull over from my emotional roadtrip and have a cup of coffee.

. . .

My eyes are still heavy from the lack of sleep from last night’s nightmares.
The cold morning was a welcome escape from the apocalypse I was experiencing in my dreams.

I knew that the late night scary movies would affect my easily manipulated mind, but this was different. I’ve many times dreamt along the course of what ever it was with which I busied myself before I went to bed. Last night, however was unlike those.

At first I’d just wake up with a gasp and calm myself down and back to sleep, as I would with any other bad dream, but these dreams persisted. With every gasp it was becoming more real. Every scene had a growing aftertaste of a guilty conscience. Soon I was rolling around feverishly. Half awake and not asleep I wrestled in a Hollywood instigated brawl. It was a one-sided and short one. I fought for about minute before I was overwhelmed. Begging to be let go out of the headlock ambiguous sin had me in.

I woke up.

A cold morning embraced me as I got out of bed. My mind was thankfully silent for the majority of the morning…

Its been a strange few days. Earlier this week I was filled with a huge sense of fulfillment. An invincible smile crept in the corner of my face. It was ok to not be ok. I felt immortal. Everything was dandy. I went for walks with my friends. I went surfing in unfavorable conditions and I had fun. I was happy. I was happy alone. I felt like I still had it in me to change this world…

…Funny.

These days I don’t allow my mind to wander like I use to. There are lots of scary questions, eh? Don’t you think? What’s right and what’s wrong. Now there is a scary question. I meet all sorts of moral dilemmas these days; drugs, sex, money, but somehow the things bothering me seem, well, worse.
I know I’m exaggerating big time, but it’s like comparing a drunk driver to Hitler?
Action or ideology? Which is the bigger crime?


Ambiguity- a lovely new word I’ve added to my English vocabulary.

I believe lots of things.
I believe things happen for a reason. I believe everything ‘talks’.
I believe in Newton’s 3rd. I believe in hope. I believe relationships are the most precious commodity. I believe everyone has a story to tell.
I believe in God. I believe that He can and will save me. I believe that fulfillment can only be found with Him. I believe that my perceptions of God are wrong. I believe that Jesus is the way to get to God. I don’t understand how. I don’t know how he speaks. But I believe He does. I believe He takes personal interest in us. I believe that there is more than what Christians tell us.

…whoa… I guess I do have a lot on my mind.

I just pray to be saved. To be better… and to transcend.
And yes, I do occasionally question my mental stability- but who do you tell these thing? Simple. You blog it. Its out of your head and public. With the added bonus that I don’t have to face people’s confused questions or ‘you’re so messed-up’-looks.

As for what we all come to this site for- art. Mine has been a bit quiet. The cockroaches in this part of Cape Town seem to have a taste for dry gouache. The little buggers already destroyed a canvas I gave to a friend. NOT FUN. Apart from that I don’t have any canvas left and well, I’ve not been THAT inspired to paint lately.

Well… that’s me for now.

And you? Yes, you actually reading this. How are you? What’s your opinion of things?
What do you think of these things? What’s your biggest… erm… concern?
What do you believe?

Can you ride your bike with no handlebars?

Sitting down on hay, leaning against the oak, I watch the band play. The tree and I, both in brown, observe. Tiny waiters struggle through the crowd, fighting to serve. My friends follow the green of the trees and I'm left against the bark. I gulp down the last of my brown bottle and chuck it behind me into the dark. A little drunk joins me on the bale. She winks slowly and tells me her predicament, all pale. I lend my ear to her lament and prescribe a few loose tips, but the next song starts, she jumps up to swing her hips. The wind and I share a chuckle as I recline back to the stump. Its after twelve and I stay a few more minutes to enjoy the stars.

I walk home in the company of empty car. Fall down on my bed in a slump.