negative x

but how can you find balance if you hadn't located the extremities first.
left - middle - right
up - middle - down
it all comes full circle.

plus, it's all negative. it's only deeper and backwards instead of half-superficial and forward.
not that I had that much interest in the shallow, but still. just a little lighter.

plus, I've never been dubbed as 'the pretty but not so smart one', now having experienced it, which is
not even ridiculous but almost absurd, can I be, please, either a careless imbecile sort of person, or a careless smart person who is not willing to prove herself at any price, or a smart person who manages to prove herself without
putting particular effort into it and not thinking about others' judgement.

dilemmas piling up.

I'm done, it's written everywhere

versions, how sophisticated

happy + meal, and me being a pseudo-health nut

pretty little angel

clearly, there's change. just change with no real progress - nothing comes to mind.

the bad thing about images is that they're basically w h a t t h e y a r e, images, and should't be treated
as reality. should'nt be regarded as more and prettier than reality. they're part-real, partly imagination, and not at all larger than life, nor more gracious. they don't smell for example. so they won't stink but won't have the fragrance of burberry london or jasmine noir either. I should remind myself of this every time I fall for them. idealisation, idolisation. and authorised madness. I have to get myself some kind of licence.

adolescence didn't make sense, a little loss of innocence / the ugliness of being a fool, ain't youth meant to be beautiful?

facing another web of representations

I kept myself to this principle of not writing in my diary in English; now
it seems there's no way of avoiding it, as the expression 'web of representations' and all the relating
thoughts are planted in that specific system, and I just can't find the way to express them in any other fashion.

conclusion of the day, put v e r y simply, is that all webs of representations will eventually strangle you.

meanwhile, the logo of the republican party turned out to be a bipolar elephant fancy-dressed as a massive, ill-shaped hamburger.

all the niceties!

only connect

'So it was a bit of an environmental disaster but I printed out about 200 pages of notes, cut them all up into pieces and laid them on my bedroom floor in this huge collage.'

the best of luck, exclamation mark

'isn't life bad enough? I know that without modernist art.'

need my daily eye candy

unfit

klasszicisták és képtörők lepték el a mellékhelyiséget (a képrombolóknak a muk 6-8. alatt lenne a helyük, de ők nincsenek sehol)

(eddig minden király, csak ezután nem lesz az; mínusz a folyamatos ordibálás meg sikoltozás a fejemben az egyik oldalról a másikra)

szerintem nem sietem el a dolgokat, júliusig simán ráérek, addig is megpróbálom szórakoztatni magam a gondolattal, hogy nincs étvágyam (de más se nagyon), és hamarosan még kevesebb kiló leszek; de leginkább
ilyenekkel fogok örömködni:



(restoration no. 1)

angélique

and those pretty, pretty eyes.
sometimes chesnut, at other times sea + sky.
I'd fall for seas and skies.
in fact, I do fall for them.
fa
ll
in
g.

a mixture of these, I guess

current location

as of yesterday:

the back of my head,
city of delusion
realm of nonsense
universe of non-existence

moreover,

As a conclusion, it can clearly be noted that location, with the sufficient amount of time provided, has developed into dislocation.
(citation needed)
haha epic fail


+
there were devils in the wind
most wind in the wires idő van.
x

orderlich a dóri (vagy kényszeres)

és finomat táplálkozik, és azzal áltatja magát, hogy halálegészséges (wealth)

either/or (or both)

I

a dolgok ilyetén való lefolyása hiányzik:

D: -káfét, nagyics?
I: -micsodát?
D: -kérsz kávét, kávézmány, kávé?
I: -az mindig jöhet.

zümzümzüm stb :] :] :] :] :] :]

puszizlak

törött tükör

I'm considering venturing myself into the direction of the shop to get some
artifical sweetner + nógárdi. but I have some breakdown to do next week and
the heroic deed of actually being able to go out (when it's not absolutely necessary)
just doesn't fit into the whole thing

'because he considered it was easier to write without style'
vs.
'all style before content using me as bait'

I'd put it this way: it's easier to write only with half the emotions and thoughts.
if language = thought, then it would be only sensible if my thoughts got a bit whatever..
simpler. please?
besides, I've always loved borders and boundaries and restrictions
and principals to stick to and that sort of thing.

someone's been stalking me for a while

peace or violence méjbi

ooo

overindulgence

good x material would bes

it's such a gorgeous sight to see you eat in the middle of the night

(good luck with your seven lies multiplied by seven multiplied by seven again)
any good?
I should think so



I want authorised madness.

half sick of shadows

highlight comfort

low-life comfort

absolute comfort

had plenty of thoughts last night, when desperately trying to get a nervous sleep, with a stomack that's yearning for solid food + mental peace but won't get any of it.

anyway, the ones I can recall:

the correct perception of the now iconic sentence of mr. x's "I don't think anyone would appreciate a sugar-stuffed willy wonka mr. x struggling across the stage, panting desperately trying to hold the notes". oh wait, not so sure again.

what my dad might feel. almost bursting into crying by the way I feel that maddening rave that's going on in his head. somehow I seem to be other people at times. as if I had their feelings.

this sequence of useless but painful thought was brought on by godot.

how I DON'T enjoy reading it. how, at some point, it's like I can't decide wheter it's the book I'm reading or my own mind. is my mind the book? am I having such a hard time getting through it because it's just like reality? and that's where I get astonished. hardly can imagine a work of art can actually stop being at least minimally artificial and start becoming almost identical with reality, irrespective of the distance in space and time and all sort of dimensions, if there are such. (I guess, everything that's inbetween, but is impossible to determine by, youknow. actual terms. words or what.)

sure, there must be some willingness from me to create this feeling of the two being identical, there has to be an interpretation, but sometimes this is also the case with reality. with the so-called actual reality.
if i take a step backwards to realise that it's actually a book I'm reading, and that it ceratinly has something to say, I find myself lost for words, because it says it all. it's about nothing. the sort of nothing that is like three layers, like everything is covered by nothingness, but underneath it's the absolute nothing.

but this whole is about how absolutely empty it all can get. when there's so much you almost feel there's nothing. and you die trying to fight this feeling, but even the possibility of getting here is scary enough. and you got here, and now you're here and you can't imagine how it's possible that one can het here, to the edge of EVERYTHING.this is what I've been feeling for a while now, and I suppose I'm only safe until I still have this thought, if I stop having it, I'm far too beyond things.

so X stand for all I want to express (as my primary aim has always been this selfish reflection-thing) but for some reason don't seem to manage to. maybe it's just not the time yet. maybe it's temporary inability. maybe I won't ever be able to. there's just too much to say, too many reflections and I'm flattered by the thought of my body showing signs of what's underneath, so got that symbol put there for myself, as a reminder, and for just anyone who happens to pass me by. as to it's meaning, I'll stick to the 'it's a secret, you know' sort of explanation, so that I can display how mysterious I am in reality. in reality, I'm much more mysterious, and my reason is a lie, but two layers deeper it's still there.

I know I can't really make myself clear to anyone, so won't even try. I'll just lie the truth. well, a simplified version of it, a reflection. as I'm half sick of shadows already, I guess, it won't really change a bit.

nothing covers
everything covers
nothing

x I'm mysterious and hidden and complicated
x I'm not mysterious just pretend to be so and want to be open to the whole world
x but I'm just too mysterious and hidden and complicated to be so

I had the alternate take on my CV, also cryptic messages in IPA and the usual mind-brain question, kindly raised for me by the girl, interrupted but it's just way too much. I was wondering if I could guess the date of my last day in the realm of sense. well, as long as I keep guessing, it's still alright.

alak, váltó

konkretizálva: köszi, marina, hogy létezel, és a nemlét egy olyan létező regiszterében operálsz, ahova én is vágyom, de még nem jutottam el, szóval leginkább azt köszi, hogy már kb harmadszor fogalmazod meg pontosan az elme + agy + lélek + test összesség egybehangzó állítását(itt nyilvánvalóan öntagadásba és terminológiai ütközésbe kerültem, de valahogy mégis úgy érzem, hogy igazam van) I’m hoping (it will heal soon) but they’ve said I can’t drink any vodka or eat spicy food or fried chicken so it’s like my life’s over!”