U-do or maybe not

Today I feel like writing again, maybe it's the weather that's helping: it's cold and rainy, and meesa like that.

I've had a flashback that took me back to 2005, to Udo. I hadn't thought of him in a while, 11 years... poor guy, he was nice, he was real... I've had a few flashing memories treading on that path and I've remembered that beautiful red-haired girl, can't recall her name though it was probably sometihing like Sabine (sounds right I think). For a while I have been thinking (whenever I got to thinking about this) that I fucked up pretty good chances of having long lasting friends on the other end of this beautiful yet everdying continent. But more recently I've come to realize that maybe I didn't strive to keep them close because I didn't feel they were right for me. Maybe they were just supposed to be the railing you cling on to when you lose your step... They are gone, but they'll never be really gone for me, even now they are a part of me, of myself back then.

Okay, brief news: this weekend I felt really adult, but in a really good and cool sense, neither paternalistic nor patrozing. I was asked, I replied, I said I wouldn't mind, I really didn't mind, and I felt good for realizing that I've grown. And I was happy.

And today, browsing through facebook, utterly physically destroyed, I came upon a video of a friend of mine singing Hurt by Johnny Cash, and I liked it. And I remembered the funny way in which I met her, and how for a while I had phantasized about what kissing her would be like, what hearing her play for me would be like... And then suddenly I felt the urge to play the guitar and sing. It came over me like a claw in the dark, I had to play and sing, it was just what I needed to lift my spirits up. Picked up the guitar, looked for the chords and the lyrics and began playing. and my spirits rose, first singing coarsly, then singing mildly, but firm. My fingers remembered the old metal skin embalming the strings, that raw and sharp pressure upon the tips, the way the hand gripped tightly yet seemd to flow in a succession of movements that I didn't even require me to need to look at the frets to check whether I was playing right. And I was happy.

Today I remembered something some wise person once told me: happiness is not a state one can achieve. Happiness is a succession of tiny little events that take place in your life that give you a stroke of sudden bliss without any need for justification.

And then I was happy again. 

A trip down memory lane

Slightly over a month since my last entry. I think I'm even getting good at this.

The thing is that these last few days have been weird, but not in a good sense but rather in a werid sense, that is, these las few days have been weird weird.

Now you're gonna wonder (or not... well then, fuck off) what was it it all about right?

Well, news is a dark blow was dealt on my kin, but we've endured, although now _I feel time pressing...

After a few talks I've decided to give in to mumbo jumbo, mostly for research purposes... and according to the signs, I was doomed from day one in many cases...

Anyhow, I've been moody lately... I've been pondering on my past, not so recent past, like 10 years back in the past and shit... even farther... I can't really make sense of it all, but I know it in my heart that this is not gratuitous: whichever forces may be ruling this universe (yeah, yeah, I'm a pagan polytheist, get over it) they are pointing me towards my past in order to see something I missed 10 years back. But what the hell is it??

This last month I have experienced some feelings, at some point even troubling ones, that I had not felt in a very, very long time. I know it was sort of a dellusion, but just like when an ex-junkie gets his fix and everything comes rushing in, flooding his mind, the same happened to me. To no avail I must say... But the fix was good enough to get me going again.

I know people who would be balancing the facts and words I've spoken out and they'd say I've missed not one but 100 chances to earn a victory, but it wasn't that sort of victory I prayed for.

And that was the beginning of it all: so many memories from the time when I was studying German... a back alley, a red-lit bar with soothing music, cold hands, German words... a strawl, a song... silence... why do you haunt me now? Be gone, older self, you know I'm better... But what is dead may never die...

Just as I decided to close a rather short chapter in my life (truly short) I realize a new one openend before me, almost in the same manner I envisioned I would like. I didn't ask the gods for a thing, but they've provided chances again, maybe because I dared risk everything, after a fashion. I know what I see, what I hear, what I read.

This battle I may lose, but I fear defeat not, for out of defeat, out of death I spawned like a Phoenix a hundred times, and I can only embrace new chance... and make sure that if I fall, I shake the very ground with my pain, should there be any in store in me.

I have felt the sting, and that clear venomous beverage I wish to drink till it burns me through or untill the scorpion lies motionless, its sting void of poison.

Gods, grant me chances.
 

"Når eg på Helvegen går

og dei spora eg trår er kalda, så kalda"