package of c.u.n.t.s is easily ripped open

translated into a certain german dialect: so a backl fotzn is glei aufgrissn.
contributed by my dearest "möselchen", you know who you are...
amazing that this sentence fits for a wide variety of occasions in daily life, as i can tell from personal experience. in the dialect i've typed above it even has more than just one meaning, which isn't apparent in the beginning. but when the light dawns... :-P

Caspar David Friedrich, The Lonely Tree

i simply love this painting, i can't express it otherwise. in contrast to "popular" opinion, i don't think the atmosphere is sad and depressed but melancholic and pensive. i really was startled to find it causing a strange pang in my heart the first time i saw it, yet it did, and does anew every time i take a look. the landscape the artist painted here appeals to me on such a level that i really would dive into it if i could.

you notice that the sky looks so real you feel like contemplating a pic?

to be blond, or to be bottle-blond, that is the question...

yup, incredible but true, there really is a difference between being blond, naturally or dyed, doesn't always matter, and the bottle-kind.
fact is, while people can be blond, natural or not, this doesn't imperatively mean they're lacking intelligence, comprehension and character. just as there are people, brunettes, redheads, black hair, grey hair, a.s.o. that meet all the requirements for the description as bottle-blondes. in this case, it's unfortunately almost a natural law that the outbreak of intelligence is just as probable as winning the lotto, or be struck by lightning during a tokyo hotel concert (the poor lightning wouldn't do that to itself, what a wise natural force).
however, statistics show an enormous growth rate of bottle-blond beings, (though cleverly disguised as other haircolors). the graph shows an exponential growth rate, consistent with beings mostly categorised as monocellular that reproduce through cell division.
so when meeting someone, one should always ask a intelligent question as soon as possible, cause listening to a bottle-blonde is torture for ears and brain... ;-)

uh-oh, we're reflecting a bit...

strange, i never thought of myself as a creative person able to write, but some day, i had an idea, something like a plot, well, something. i simply started writing a bit that evening, and what came out's what i posted yesterday. i really surprised myself cause i'm no romantic, and yet the stuff i wrote is just that, it literally drips! but somehow, each time i read it again, it touches my heart. dios mío, i think i'm in the process of becoming a romantic!!! the next thing i'll do will surely be buying some candles, strew some red rose petals on the floor and having a bath with plenty of foam while listening to celine dion...
man, i think it'll soon come to an end with me!

something to read...

Leaves fell down soundlessly. It was a beautiful day in autumn, with a multiple of reds and yellows glowing out between the trunks of the trees and above from their twigs. Yet no one was out admiring the breathtaking beauty of nature in this period. It was quiet except for the barely perceptible whisper of wind blowing through the leaves, and silent steps on the foliage. She walked alone, not meeting a single soul on her way. In a distance behind her ran a mid-sized black dog, stopping here and there to sniff at something, to whom she turned to look at from time to time, just as if she wanted to assure it was still there. All the same, she didn’t feel lonely; she was wrapped up in her thoughts, far far away in a place in her mind she knew just too well. Absently she listened to the song of a bird, one of the few who had yet to leave for a warmer winter residence in the south. She wasn’t sad, either, loving this time of the year when the colours were the most vivid of the year, when even the sky was of such a gorgeous, brilliant blue as to no other time. It was the period when nature prepared for some months spent in hibernation, before being reanimated next spring. Suddenly her emerald green eyes focused on something in a distance and the smooth skin around them crinkled with a broad, delighted smile curving her lips. Her long blond hair flew as she rushed towards a single figure waiting patiently at the next curve of the path, leaning at the trunk of an old oak spreading its branches wide over the way. Strong arms caught her and he whirled her around in the air, her hands caressing his face and their united laughter spilling into the silence. Putting her down, he embraced and kissed her tenderly while their hands joined. The black dog sprang around them joyously as they continued to walk, together, hand in hand, her head resting on his shoulder.
For a moment, the soft breeze intensified, whirling leaves around and causing them to fall down from the trees like raindrops in a heavy storm, and they were gone, without leaving any trace, like a daydream come to an abrupt end. The only thing being audible were once more the calm rustle of wind blowing through the leaves and the lonely bird singing one last note before taking off, beginning his weeklong route to south. Then the clouds broke up, and the sun shone exactly at the place where he had embraced her.
A really beautiful day in autumn.

LP, Valentine's Day

my insides all turned to ash / so slow

and blew away as i collapsed / so cold

a black wind took them away / from sight

and held the darkness over day / that night

-

and the clouds above move closer

looking so dissatisfied

but the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing

-

i used to be my own protection / but not now

cause my path has lost direction / somehow

a black wind took you away / from sight

and held the darkness over day / that night

-

and the clouds above move closer

looking so dissatisfied

and the ground below grew colder

as they put you down inside

but the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing

-

so now you're gone

and i was wrong

i never knew what it was like

to be alone

-

on a valentine's day

la vie immédiate

adieu tristesse

bonjour tristesse

tu es inscrite dans les lignes du plafond

tu es inscrite dans les yeux que j'aime

tu n'es pas tout à fait la misère

car les lèvres les plus pauvres te dénoncent

par un sourire

bonjour tristesse

amour des corps aimables

puissance de l'amour

dont l'amabilité surgit

comme un monstre sans corps

tete désappointée

tristesse beau visage

it's a start...

first of all, i want to dedicate this to joey, the best friend and "oaschal" i've ever had and will ever have. without you, i would not be the person i am now, i wouldn't even have found the strength to go on with my life (and it would be really dull with the others, you know what i mean!). once i found a saying, and i think it's one that fits most:
some people share the changes in your life.
others change the way you live it.
best friends are the ones who do both.