HAPPY NEW YEARS :')

4tune

Maybe if we met each other under a different sky
Maybe then things would be much better between you and I
We can always hold on to this one special thing we share
But it would be to much for us to bare

So lets have
One last kiss
One last touch
One last tender moment between us
One last dance to our first song
While pretending there's nothing wrong
Let's lay here for a while and cherish every moment we're in denial
We both know it's better if we just let it go

Traphik's Insecure Girls

She was a young preteen obsessed with magazines
Always watched the model scene on the television screen
Looked up in the mirror and the only thing she seen
Was a fat and ugly body never thought she was queen
Squeezed into her jeans and all she could was scream
Spent all her daddy's money on the lotions and the creams
Man she spent a fortune never had reinforcement
Daddy never hugged her cause her parents were divorced and
When she ate she forced it, or cut it into portions
Then spent the rest of the night just clutchin to the porcelain
She used to be so pure but she gave the intercourse
To a dude that's abusive cause she feels so insecure
He's cheatin and he beats her but they never gonna break up
Cause when her eyes are black and blue she just covers it make up
The companies be lyin just so they can get they cake up
Come on baby look you're beautiful, you need to wake up

u n d f t d

I'll be singing you this, telling you this, rapping you this, texting you this

Tell them you told me that I would be nothing
Tell them why the fuck you out here bluffing
I tried to tell you babe
You didn't believe me, but now you gonna see this day
Cause I'm at the top
I can't be stopped
This shit not in ya
Hold ya car
I don't wanna be where you are
Cause I'm living like a fucking star

I told you, I told you, I told you I would be famous baby
You told me, you told me, you told me that I was crazy baby
Bitch look at me now
Bitch look - bitch look at me now
Bitch look at me now
Bitch look - bitch look at me now

I told you, I told you, I told you I would be famous baby
You told me, you told me, you told me that I was crazy baby
Bitch look at me now
Bitch look - bitch look at me now
Bitch look at me now
Bitch look - bitch look at me now

Told you not to fuck me.

Don't ever tell me I can't do something.

The thought of it makes me sick.

In a Bar in Tokyo

The Japanese journalist asks the usual question: 'What are your favourite writers?'
And I give my usual answer: 'Jorge Amado, Jorge Luis Borges, William Blake and Henry Miller.'
The interpreter looks at me in amazement:
'Henry Miller?'
At the end of the interview, I ask her why she was so surprised by response.
'No, I'm not criticizing Henry Miller. I'm a fan of his too. Did you know that he was married to a Japanese woman?'
I had plans to go see Henry Miller, but he died before I had saved enough money for the trip.
'The Japanese woman is called Hoki,' I said proudly.
She asks, 'Would you like to meet her tonight?'
Of course I would like to meet someone who once lived with one of my idols. I imagine she must receive visitors and requests for interviews from all over the world; after all, she lived with Miller for nearly ten years. Surely she won't want to waste her time on a mere fan? But if the translator says it's possible, I had better take her word for it.

I spend the rest of the day anxiously waiting. We get in a taxi, and everything starts to seem very strange. We stop in a street where the sun probably never shines, because a railway viaduct passes right over it. The translator points to a second-rate bar on the second floor of a crumbling building.
We go up some stairs, enter a deserted bar, and there is Hoki Miller.
To conceal my surprise, I exaggerate my enthusiasm for her ex-husband. She takes to a room in the back, where she has created a little museum - a few photos, two or three signed watercolours, a book with a dedication written in it and nothing more. She tells me that she met him when she was studying for an MA in Los Angeles and that, in order to make ends meet, she used to play piano in a restaurant and sing French songs (in Japanese). Miller had supper there once and he loved the songs; they went out a few times, and he asked her to marry him.
I see that there is piano in the bar - as if she were returning to the past, to the day when they first met. She tells me some wonderful stories about the life together, about problems that arose from differences (Miller was over fifty, and Hoki not yet twenty), about the time they spent together. She explains that the heirs from his other marriages inherited everything, including rights to the books, but that this didn't matter because the experience of being with him outweighed any monetary compensation.

I ask her to play the same song that first caught Miller's attention all those years ago. She does this with tears in her eyes, and sings 'Autumn Leaves' ('Feuilles mortes')
The translator and I are moved too. The bar, the piano, the voice of that Japanese woman echoing through the empty room, not caring about the success of the other ex-wives, or the rivers of money that must flow from Miller's books, or the international fame she could be enjoying right now.
'There was no point in squabbling over the inheritance: love was enough,' she said at last, sensing what we feeling.
Yes, in the light of that complete absence of bitterness or rancour, I think love really was enough.

Point blank

Some days you will wake up and you feel sad without knowing why. Like you lost something every precious, but you forgot what it was, or like you miss someone you never met.

This is one of those days for me.

Fathom

I stopped checking for monsters, ghosts and the make-believe before I go to bed when i realized the monster was inside of me.

The colour of the sunset and the glimmer in your eyes

I don't know where we're going and I don't know who we are but i feel that there is no reason to live without you.

020

If you have food in your fridge, clothes on your back, a roof over your head and a place to sleep, you are richer than 70% of the world.
If you have money in the bank, in your wallet and some spare change, you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.
If you woke up this morning with more health than illness, you are more blessed than the million that will not survive this week.
If you have not experienced the danger of a battle, loneliness of imprisonment, agony of torture or pangs of starvation, you are luckier than the 500 million who are alive and suffering.
If you can see the world before your eyes, you are more privileged than the 45 million who are blind.
If you can read this message, you are more fortunate than the 3 billion in the world who cannot read this at all.
Count your blessings.

Postcards From Far Away

I always wonder why birds choose to stay in the same place when they can fly anywhere.
Then I ask myself the same question.