little miss sunshine
i cant really remember when it started but i cannot think of a time when it wasnt there.
whether its an innate or an acquired trait i dont know. all i know is that its there and its probably the only thing that i call home.
i live in a bubble. yup. there, i said it. all by myself. its a wonderful place. really. i made it myself i dont remember when and i dont know how. and i am definitely NOT the person who could create anything worth the space since it takes me all evening to put a kinder surprise together. they're so complicated!
i see the atrocities every single day. i read them and i hear them and i feel them. and every single time i stumble on new shapes and forms i manage to feel yet again, so much shock and disgust and fascination by the stupidity of the human race. i often gasp. my friend tells me how sweet and somehow endearing that is and i never fail to detect the sarcasm in there and i take it well most of the time. so then i curse a bit and i hate a bit more and while i'm on my way to realizing that its the end of the world i get distracted by something so unremarkable that i cant remember what it is right now. i just remembered Picasso's 'The Dance of Youth'. i bought the poster the other day because as soon as i looked at it it reminded me of those little things that distract me (the things that i cant remember now). the point is that those little unremarkable things are the most beautiful things in the world. and they're all over the place.
so now as im writing this i realize that what it could actually be is simply that i cannot remember what makes me sad and bitter and so i just move along as they do in the painting. i dont know.
but anyway. i forgot what i wanted to write about in the first place but i remember that it was something positive surrounded by all the negatives in the world. but they cant get to it because it's safe in a beautiful (and unbreakable, a very important point to add here) bubble. i mean so many things and so many people have tried hard to break it and it didnt work so this suggests that its probably unbreakable. no? who cares!! not me. do i look like someone who cares? which reminds me of celia cruz's 'yo vivire' which is one of the most beautiful things i've listened to today.
i dont know why im going on and on like this and i'm totally sober. so incoherent i absolutely love it!
and you know what the funny thing is? i keep forgetting to buy a bubble maker.
so the moral of the story is that there is no moral in the story. none whatsoever.
whether its an innate or an acquired trait i dont know. all i know is that its there and its probably the only thing that i call home.
i live in a bubble. yup. there, i said it. all by myself. its a wonderful place. really. i made it myself i dont remember when and i dont know how. and i am definitely NOT the person who could create anything worth the space since it takes me all evening to put a kinder surprise together. they're so complicated!
i see the atrocities every single day. i read them and i hear them and i feel them. and every single time i stumble on new shapes and forms i manage to feel yet again, so much shock and disgust and fascination by the stupidity of the human race. i often gasp. my friend tells me how sweet and somehow endearing that is and i never fail to detect the sarcasm in there and i take it well most of the time. so then i curse a bit and i hate a bit more and while i'm on my way to realizing that its the end of the world i get distracted by something so unremarkable that i cant remember what it is right now. i just remembered Picasso's 'The Dance of Youth'. i bought the poster the other day because as soon as i looked at it it reminded me of those little things that distract me (the things that i cant remember now). the point is that those little unremarkable things are the most beautiful things in the world. and they're all over the place.
so now as im writing this i realize that what it could actually be is simply that i cannot remember what makes me sad and bitter and so i just move along as they do in the painting. i dont know.
but anyway. i forgot what i wanted to write about in the first place but i remember that it was something positive surrounded by all the negatives in the world. but they cant get to it because it's safe in a beautiful (and unbreakable, a very important point to add here) bubble. i mean so many things and so many people have tried hard to break it and it didnt work so this suggests that its probably unbreakable. no? who cares!! not me. do i look like someone who cares? which reminds me of celia cruz's 'yo vivire' which is one of the most beautiful things i've listened to today.
i dont know why im going on and on like this and i'm totally sober. so incoherent i absolutely love it!
and you know what the funny thing is? i keep forgetting to buy a bubble maker.
so the moral of the story is that there is no moral in the story. none whatsoever.
posted by Laila K at
22:13
6 Comments:
this is the best thing i've read all morning, zghiri
those things that made me fall, the bubble, the little things inside, and you talking about everything and nothing at the same time
You make me happy . . . and a little sad too.
why sad?
Because of all the things outside the bubble . . . because all of us need bubbles to keep it out . . . because we're all so far away from each other . . . because a few of us are so very far from each other.
But you make me happy.
TEnt City is the new place to be this summer! Because we're all about freedom and democracy. We even let people vote on where to place their tents! Yalla yalla tent city here we come!
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