Like crazy

Art

I miss you a lot, like crazy

I want to ask you, stay

Show you my scars 

The hole in my heart 

But I cannot (ask)

 
You’re a riddle, still

Figuring out yourself 

I’m just a plain page, unworthy of your time 

I need you, but 

 

You’re not mine anymore 

Belonging to other streetlights, on the river 

Under dazzling eyes, red in the night 

Across an open sea, far (away) 

 

⇝K 

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art portfolio

Art, Words

We write our stories on crinkled coffee shop napkins, with cheap jet black eyeliner. Rough at the edges, smudged lines; fairytales but with tragic endings and without sparkling bliss.

Rays of sun through glass windows compete with our clouded minds and rainy eyes. Sorrows braided into galaxies, puddles made into swimming pools.

We are just spilled paint in an art portfolio, the shards in a broken mirror.
~ J

Lack of substance 

Art, Words

She could not help it. The laughter had taken over her being and now she only existed as the uncontrollable exhales. That was all she was; which was far more than she had ever been. A shell or perhaps a mask. Covering up the lack of substance and personality. 

It wasn’t her fault; at least not entirely. The world could’ve have been a bit more understanding of her chaotic creativity. But the way it always goes she was branded a lunatic. 

At first she’d fight it. Tell people off. Stand up for her beliefs. Eventually she stopped. Her efforts were all for nothing. Realising she would never be seen as anything but, she instead became it. She did not own it; she was consumed. The very essence of her being had abandoned its independence and was now solely an image of what other people saw in her. Their prejudice; most of all their belief that she would never be anything but. 

And so it goes. The different become freaks and individuality withers and dies.

⇝K 
 

A month of xxx’s

Words

It’s only been a month, and I’m so scared yet so sure.

I’m scared I fell too quickly, scared it is not real – HE is not real.

I’m so scared of the voices telling me to slow down, but even more scared of those telling me not to. 

I’m terrified of these potential feelings, call it love or whatever, and terrified that the feeling of not deserving this won’t go away, ever.

I’m scared the texts are going to stop, scared of the xxx’s becoming a dreaded habit, scared I’ll scare him away or bore him to death.

I’m scared he will stop taking my hand in his whenever we walk somewhere, scared his fingers tracing the stars on my skin will stop being the best feeling in the world.

I’m afraid that he’s the one, and that he’s not.

I’m so scared. But also so sure.
~ J

A very Camden Christmas Eve eve – a short story

Words

“Please mind the gap, between the train and the platform…” echoes over a dozen of heads as I step off the train on the tube station. I climb the 94 steps back to reality, up from the underground. Coats and boots fill the gaps everywhere around me, but Camden Town is not as crowded as usual. Might have something to do with the fact that today is Christmas Eve eve. For once, I thank my irregular work rota and I’m happy that I got today off. Even if that means I have to work Christmas Day…

Under the soles of slightly warmer boots, colourful words paint the ground. I stop and read the chalk poems and search the pockets of my faux-fur for a few coins but with no result. Soon, my own words start to form silent poetry on my lips.

My dr. Martens cross the road, to the way too familiar chain coffee shop.
“Gingerbread Latte, please. Yeah tall. Oh and soy milk, no cream. Thanks.” The barista smiles and gives me my change back. I make a mental note of giving the coins to the street poet.

Back out in the crisp but not too cold London winter, the smell of the coffee in my hand is hidden underneath the Christmas tree sale along the main road. They still sell these today, for totally unorganised people without any sense of structure to their life. I completely forgot, I should probably get one… Later.

Next to the fragrant trees, there are bundles of holly and mistletoe. I pick up one of those mythical green twigs and laugh to myself as I think of potential mistletoe kisses. Not happening. I buy it anyways, in complete irony, of course.
The Lock Market is getting closer, and I wonder if my boots can feel that they belong here. I can feel it, at least. I stop under the sign, stating that “we’re (very) open (minded)”, wanting to take pictures of it just as much now as the first time I was here.

Warm cider, cupcakes, crepes and burritos hits me in an overwhelming mix of scents, and a just as incredible wall of memories tumbles across my mind. Friends, vintage shopping, family visiting, first dates, second dates…
My feet keep on making their way forward and I push my mind to do the same.

Box after box with vinyl records. Elephants in rainbow swirls, followed by pink clouds and grey rain. I start imagining the songs, what the lyrics mean, what the sound would make me feel. One of the covers catches my mind off guard. It still hurts to think that I can recognise them anywhere… Your favourite band, that is. I leave the records behind and continue.

When I reach the bridge across the canal, I think I stepped in to a winter wonderland – is it actually snowing? Turns out, what looked like snow for a second is just tiny raindrops frozen in time and caught in thick fog. Just as my mind becomes heavy, the crucial moment between day and evening, light and dark, approaches. And, as expected, Christmas lights on automatic timers turn on everywhere around me. It looks just like stars, just a little more artificial than real glowing bodies in space.

And just then, I feel as if I can finally see a little bit of Christmas joy. Maybe there are actually miracles everywhere around.
~J

Update: three days to go

Words

With only three days until C-day I can’t help feeling a little bit stressed. I still have two more gifts to fix and there’s a lot of food to be made. This year’s Christmas buffet will be so awesome. My two sisters are also vegan so I have some reinforcement when it comes to making the menu. We’ll have it all, vegan salads of plenty (red and white cabbage and kale), vegan versions of classical dishes (soy-balls, vegan ham, aubergine-haring, Oumph!-ribs). I’m truly excited.

Of course you don’t have to veganize all of the traditional courses but I think it’s a great way to start. If it were only me at the Christmas table (and some of my *fabulous* vegan friends) I would totally experiment more. But alas the rest of my family are omnivores so change needs to be somewhat understandable. If I were to change everything right away I’m sure they wouldn’t let me celebrate with them next year. Maybe I’m a wee bit dramatic now but at the same time there’s some truth to my overstatement. Of course I’ll be welcome but maybe not my ideas. And now I might be underestemating my family’s ability to change. It’s tricky to navigate these waters.

Anyhow I am still very excited about the Christmas food (which is, except the gathering of family, the best thing about Christmas). I hope you all have something special prepared for this winter’s holiday!

⇝K

Moonlight+Stardust

Art, Words

I feel like I need to preface this. It’s ehm… It is what it is. It’s very sappy and cheesy and sad and cliche but I wrote this when I was feeling all of that so it fits, I guess. It’s not a poem but it might be poetry. Just like life.


You are everything,

I could’ve had,

I could’ve wanted.

Dark green eyes

show a sparkling soul

and a world I want to revisit.

You hold me close,

stars dancing above our heads

And I know that in another world,

another universe,

There are no black empty holes.

that in another galaxy,

My wish upon that falling star

might come true.

You say in a light year

or half a year

Our orbits might collide

and we will be

Moonlight and Stardust

once again.

~ J

Blogger’s Block

Stuff

There are so many blog posts I want to write and post right now, but I feel like I just can’t. I actually don’t know why but I just can’t seem to get the words on paper… or on the screen I should say. It seems impossible to get my fingers to push the right keys and find the right words, to make up the right sentences and eventually the right post.

And sometimes, the words don’t even need to be right, and the blog post doesn’t need to be perfect. That’s okay. I feel like I put so much pressure on myself sometimes with these blog posts… I want them to be packed full with descriptive words, captivating pictures and carefully picked wording. That’s probably why the other thirds of this blog pointed out that my posts always are soooo long and with soooo many pictures (could also have something to do with me always writing too much and my love for photography/aesthetics but I’m not sure). But this is only sometimes. Other times I don’t, and literally write and post what I want and only what I want without a care in the world. Or I mean… I always post whatever I want and I always care, of course, but sometimes I put a little more effort in it and then I want every post to be that big and colourful. And that’s kinda impossible, since my (/our) lives are kinda crazy, and kinda super stressed right now… kinda. (kiiinda hate that word but I’m gonna use it anyway!)

So yeah. This is one of those posts I won’t overload with fancy words and pictures. I don’t really know why I wrote this instead of all the other posts I have planned in my head, but I guess this is what I felt like writing.

On another note, it was my birthday yesterday and I just decided I’m gonna have a Big Birthday Brunch this sunday and I’m quite excited about this. So you can expect a few posts about this from me, both the preparation, mid-brunch pictures and the aftermath! (but I probably won’t post about the brunch until after it actually happened, since K and M are both coming and I want to keep at least some of the element of surprise!)

Hey, look, I actually made myself type this out! And maybe these weren’t the right words, and maybe this wasn’t the right post, but that doesn’t matter. It was the right post for right now, and that’s okay.

~J