every one is my world
5 nights = 26hrs sleep
coming in from a sunny thursday with a rainy heart
1 new skirt [ J. Crew, size 6, black, long & slim cut gord ]
being called bitch-ass by a blond girl on the toilette
fetish 69
i am lacking words.
...its not that i ran out of them [which would be rather surprising], as my mind displays them blurred, fast and associative - like flipping through a dictionary, it exposes vocabulary such as whimsical, derailing, licentious, affectionate, provident, candid, unrelieved yearning ...
lack of time too.
...it flies when fun is dictating the speed. starting in slow motion: thursday 3am, cranberries in my glass, quesadilla on my plate - the girl shows me once more how much she knows me. her counterpart in crime: brave enough to get up from sleep to take me into her slovenian arms, and lulling me into a dusty & dizzying cloud with her smoky voice.
...running through the rain on friday evening, once again behaving like a citizen, to finally catch a wonderful piece in black and white - not only to dry jeans, but to warm the heart strongly recommended...
...saturday and sunday. passed with the button for fast forward pressed down....
if somebody would ask me, "what is a london decompression party like, anyway?" - i couldn't give an honest answer. because, apparently, i'm lacking words when things are too intense....
[or, alternatively, i run away when its too good, or i compensate through - well, what about moving, art, cooking, writing?!]
- and how couldn't be these hours anything but divine, in this (amongst others) company?
a plane way too early to ljubljana, advices from another timezone, a boiled over pot of chicken in the kitchen, later on omega3 in form of fish against the emotional hangover, rice to recover cells from free-radical (self expression?) with antioxidants, courgettes roasted with garlic to support the metabolism - back to life on monday.
...changing clothes to an over knee skirt and a woolen pullover, changing make up to simple lip gloss - just the mind won't change, as i am strolling from soho to shoreditch, where me and miss higher force play sophisticated normality with a glass of wine in our hands.
- discussing what i wrote one week ago: clairvoyant i've been, of course. lies, nothing but lies.
it certainly is a lie, that a night of whatever-you-wanna-do-with-it, in my case dancing & socializing [as done with that charming blond english girl], that this night will set you free from pressure.
a glass of a (french-)viennese souvenir on the next afternoon makes the decision: if that default world approaches us with pressure, why not facing the world with ecually significant acts of empowerment?
michel foucault said once, that "power" is not necessarily negative, but in its effects productive too....
...the power of good bye, therefore, finds its productive outlet through heavy tears....
...but if words only do harm: why is it so good then, to find a letter as i am returning to vienna, containing thoughtful wishes, warm words, with cordial conviviality and pictures that simply make me smile?!
a handwritten letter (nowadays)! from the US of A (so far away)! from san francisco (so close)!
to me (to whom none writes mail wrapped in envelopes, except of the bank!)
- this shall end now all arguments fellow europeans stated lately, that us-americans tend to have superficial out of sight/out of mind-friendships only...
princessa, you made my day/night/week/and probably it lasts for the whole december too...!
i am opening the envelope, and surprisingly (well, the letter went over one ocean!) some scallops still stick to the christmas card. i take about 10 of them and clean them in cold water. roasting onions, leek, cellery stalks, zucchini in - here's the word - olive oil, adding plenty of white wine, some tomatoes, dill, salt, pepper, garlic, bay leaves. fill up with water. let cook until veges still have a bite. add as much of your favorite fish [devil fish in my case], prawns, and of course scallops as you like. add some butter to make the fish soup smooth and creamy. i served it this afternoon to 3 charming friends of mine with a simple baguette, but of course i had to cook smth with the other ingredients of the envelope from SF, too: ginger, apricots, vanilla.
let these 3 components cook with a bit of brown sugar, add a small cut mango. let it cool. prepare a shortcrust of 100gr sugar, 100 gr butter, 100 gr flour and cardamon (please do the conversion yourselves this time) and crumble it over the fruits. let it bake for 15 minutes on high heat and serve with sour cream [or alternatively, as i will be doing for saturday's thai dinner, with a coconut panacotta - substitute cream with coconut cream and vanilla with cardamon, add maybe a hint of lime cest and don't add too much thickening agent], and espresso macchiatto...
...it needs a couple of minutes to let cool down the fruit crumble, therefore i open my mails in the meantime to receive the following message: "miriam! too tempting - i'm coming to vienna tomorrow!". if i might have thought on the 4th of september of this year, that i have to learn how to survive in an ordinary world - i tend to think since...well, the 5th latest, i guess [another lie] - that i rather make my own way, even if its crazy, as some might say, or contains listening old pathetic songs, as i do a lot, obviously, lately.
...therefore, spelita, can' t wait for you to bring some new beats, fill the vacuum of my heart a bit...!
- and higher force, are you taking the plane on tuesday?
coming in from a sunny thursday with a rainy heart
1 new skirt [ J. Crew, size 6, black, long & slim cut gord ]
being called bitch-ass by a blond girl on the toilette
fetish 69
i am lacking words.
...its not that i ran out of them [which would be rather surprising], as my mind displays them blurred, fast and associative - like flipping through a dictionary, it exposes vocabulary such as whimsical, derailing, licentious, affectionate, provident, candid, unrelieved yearning ...
lack of time too.
...it flies when fun is dictating the speed. starting in slow motion: thursday 3am, cranberries in my glass, quesadilla on my plate - the girl shows me once more how much she knows me. her counterpart in crime: brave enough to get up from sleep to take me into her slovenian arms, and lulling me into a dusty & dizzying cloud with her smoky voice.
...running through the rain on friday evening, once again behaving like a citizen, to finally catch a wonderful piece in black and white - not only to dry jeans, but to warm the heart strongly recommended...
...saturday and sunday. passed with the button for fast forward pressed down....
if somebody would ask me, "what is a london decompression party like, anyway?" - i couldn't give an honest answer. because, apparently, i'm lacking words when things are too intense....
[or, alternatively, i run away when its too good, or i compensate through - well, what about moving, art, cooking, writing?!]
- and how couldn't be these hours anything but divine, in this (amongst others) company?
a plane way too early to ljubljana, advices from another timezone, a boiled over pot of chicken in the kitchen, later on omega3 in form of fish against the emotional hangover, rice to recover cells from free-radical (self expression?) with antioxidants, courgettes roasted with garlic to support the metabolism - back to life on monday.
...changing clothes to an over knee skirt and a woolen pullover, changing make up to simple lip gloss - just the mind won't change, as i am strolling from soho to shoreditch, where me and miss higher force play sophisticated normality with a glass of wine in our hands.
- discussing what i wrote one week ago: clairvoyant i've been, of course. lies, nothing but lies.
it certainly is a lie, that a night of whatever-you-wanna-do-with-it, in my case dancing & socializing [as done with that charming blond english girl], that this night will set you free from pressure.
a glass of a (french-)viennese souvenir on the next afternoon makes the decision: if that default world approaches us with pressure, why not facing the world with ecually significant acts of empowerment?
michel foucault said once, that "power" is not necessarily negative, but in its effects productive too....
...the power of good bye, therefore, finds its productive outlet through heavy tears....
...but if words only do harm: why is it so good then, to find a letter as i am returning to vienna, containing thoughtful wishes, warm words, with cordial conviviality and pictures that simply make me smile?!
a handwritten letter (nowadays)! from the US of A (so far away)! from san francisco (so close)!
to me (to whom none writes mail wrapped in envelopes, except of the bank!)
- this shall end now all arguments fellow europeans stated lately, that us-americans tend to have superficial out of sight/out of mind-friendships only...
princessa, you made my day/night/week/and probably it lasts for the whole december too...!
i am opening the envelope, and surprisingly (well, the letter went over one ocean!) some scallops still stick to the christmas card. i take about 10 of them and clean them in cold water. roasting onions, leek, cellery stalks, zucchini in - here's the word - olive oil, adding plenty of white wine, some tomatoes, dill, salt, pepper, garlic, bay leaves. fill up with water. let cook until veges still have a bite. add as much of your favorite fish [devil fish in my case], prawns, and of course scallops as you like. add some butter to make the fish soup smooth and creamy. i served it this afternoon to 3 charming friends of mine with a simple baguette, but of course i had to cook smth with the other ingredients of the envelope from SF, too: ginger, apricots, vanilla.
let these 3 components cook with a bit of brown sugar, add a small cut mango. let it cool. prepare a shortcrust of 100gr sugar, 100 gr butter, 100 gr flour and cardamon (please do the conversion yourselves this time) and crumble it over the fruits. let it bake for 15 minutes on high heat and serve with sour cream [or alternatively, as i will be doing for saturday's thai dinner, with a coconut panacotta - substitute cream with coconut cream and vanilla with cardamon, add maybe a hint of lime cest and don't add too much thickening agent], and espresso macchiatto...
...it needs a couple of minutes to let cool down the fruit crumble, therefore i open my mails in the meantime to receive the following message: "miriam! too tempting - i'm coming to vienna tomorrow!". if i might have thought on the 4th of september of this year, that i have to learn how to survive in an ordinary world - i tend to think since...well, the 5th latest, i guess [another lie] - that i rather make my own way, even if its crazy, as some might say, or contains listening old pathetic songs, as i do a lot, obviously, lately.
...therefore, spelita, can' t wait for you to bring some new beats, fill the vacuum of my heart a bit...!
- and higher force, are you taking the plane on tuesday?
mironja - 7. Dec, 00:40
