haptic

curious series of happenstances, experiences and desires

one consistent thing about life is that it does, indeed, get increasingly challenging as you age

The Elephant's Garden

found me box

I've spent some time smoking by my bedroom window, attentive to the wind as not to have smoke blow inside. I did this last night, staying up late, writing a rap part for a song Reinis sent me. Never ever would have thought to find myself in that position.
But hey, it's a lot of fucking fun.

What I was planning to do now was launch into a euphoric reminiscence of the trip to Warsaw. I think I'll take the opportunity to put down my amateur dabbling instead. I'll omit the singing bits, so y'all getting a pure cut of baby's first rap. To those wondering - it's mostly about my own inner growth, experiences and stuff, all vague enough. Enjoy.

can't believe myself - walking step by step into the known unknown

puny galaxies within each heartbeat I pump on my own

it's more than curiosity, I would have been most obsolete

had there been nothing in the air that ordered my to move my feet

reaching for the stars, reaching for the light,

shove 'em in my body and you better lock 'em up real tight

you better throw away the key, you got no more to do with me

but, tentative, sensitive is the option you would rather give

and I couldn't bear to mind such a fine sign, such a fine line

enabling two entities to intertwine

there's no need to lie - feeling kinda high

a giddy kind of wafting up and over, out of my mind

can't stop, too late, finally pulling my weight

and, coincidentally, confusion's feeling fucking great

why would you assume that I've stepped in the room,

immersed myself in tunes, just to see my visions go to ruins?

a sleep-encumbered, soul-connecting thing akin to resurrecting

softy seething, barely breathing method of over-achieving

idealistic, altruistic, only slightly masochistic

ambiguously platonic, don't you worry, hun, I'm on it

true to what I hold inside

cross my heart & hope to die

impossible to see through this visual snow

wouldn't you like to know whom to follow?

I'm not sure if I do, 'cause I've got my own fortitude

at least some kind of dignity when I can't face the solitude

I can be content with rising tendrils of smoke

got my little buzz and my imaginary cloak

really doesn't matter what you think I'll provoke

you see, we were there when all these creatures awoke

can never quite believe it when life opens up and means it

can never quite contain all that is outweighing the pain

yet it remains aflame.. 'kay, I'm game

I'm still having some difficulties enunciating each word in time, my regular lyrics have more breathing space. Ma used to bug me about slurring my words, and while I'm not completely incomprehensible unless feeling very timid, it's a good reason to train "lips, tongue & teeth".

(I may still edit the shit out of these rhymes, but that all depends.)

netflix & chill

I think I've been given an unfair amount of joy this summer and the time leading up to it. An unjustly potent chance to gather a incredible crowd of individuals that will most likely remain very dear to me until the day I kick the bucket. I'm treading on this mass of floaty euphoria, induced by people, substance and music. And no, I'm not ever going shut up about it.

Apšuciems, Skaņu Mežs, Zunda Dārzs, Rūpniecības ielas dzīvoklis.
Studija Mārupē, divas ikoniskas mājvietas kvartāla attālumā, hurrdurr Chomsky.
Kaņepes Kultūras Centra trāpīgā iemanīšanās iesprukt kaut kādu lielo notikumu šķirbās..

***

Projekti, kuriem ir jārealizējas:

Šajā skaistajā vakarā sastapu arī Benitu, kura pieteicās būt mans izmēģinājuma trusītis pētnieciskā darbā par to, kā dažādi alkoholi maina emocionālo nostāju.

Galvenā doma par to, ko es varētu ķepināt no māla keramikas kursos, kuriem beidzot esmu pieteikusies, ir tie visi radījumi, kuri rādas acu priekšā pirms gulētiešanas, it īpaši biedējošie. Gribu detalizētu aprakstu par katra baiļu pielietošanas metodēm un funkcijām.

Netflix & chill rock-solid tradīcija. Palaizam puķīti.

Draugu pielietojums vai nu stipri personalizētā fotosesiju sērijā, vai nu slightly off tēlu radīšanā, whimsical to the max. Gan jau, ka iekļaus tās pašas rokas.

Growth sucks

and karma's a bitch. I am being offered, more or less, everything I've wished for in a relationship, and here I find myself unable to receive it. It seems wrong to deny such an offer, goddamn beautiful as it is, but I am cursed with the knowledge that I just wouldn't be able to fucking deal with giving myself up again. I am scared shitless of depending on another person. *see: "Cuddling: No Questions Asked"
The sad fact is, that from the point in my life that I engaged in my first serious relationship, I have not had sufficient time to myself. I haven't known how to deal with a single me. Now that I feel more than ready to choose that road, the obstacles in my way have taken a lot of trouble to represent a good amount of irony. I know what to do, it's just difficult to accept. Bitch.

not fucking fair

I know it's easy, okay? I know. It's too easy.

Pipilotti Rist - I'm a victim of this game (wicked game)

Cuddling: No Questions Asked

A friend once called me the most ridiculously happy person she knew. I recently had a desire to look a bit more closely at my obnoxious ☮❁everything is beautiful❂♥ choice of seeing the world around me. I call it obnoxious because it is, simply put, a deliberate inability to let go of a kalopsic vision I've lived on for a long time. I'm pretty sure I'm better off clinging to it, because it is what I recognize in myself when they say people are programmed to believe. Discarding it, I'd wither away into something else, whether for better or for worse, I can't say. But I'm sure I'd hate the process.

To formulate what I mean by it is not the easiest task: this is, I think, the fifth time I sit down to write and rewrite this particular post. I've tried to express it in a myriad of different ways, e.g. through several projects of capturing "the thing, the spark, the cherry on top", but there are less conscious things that represent it very aptly, such as my getting very exited about the most trivial things, like moss growing on a balcony
the feel of fabric against my skin, under my fingers
or the way a word rolls off one's tongue
(obnoxious);
such as my love for books and bodies and beauty; my desperate empathy that often does my harm than good, and my glee in keeping the mystery in things - I bet I'm being unnecessarily vague even now. It is what often keeps me from hating myself when I am riddled with guilt or grief, my unending appreciation for the friends I have and had, and the overly pronounced sense of loss when they're gone.

I've found that enough anxiety kills it. Killed it at least once. Lost the bubbles in my lemonade. Let life be taken over by tension in my chest and paranoia in my mind that wouldn't. fucking. leave. It was a long, dark period that destroyed many a thing I had built for the first time. Yet, I am bubbly once more.

Holding on, baby steps, yada-yada.
Have a shallow thought - "Sex is not the point." Silly it may be, but that tiny, specific statement was one of the things that made it a lot easier for me to communicate comfortably again. It served as a comforting concept for a gullible, ample-bosomed girl like myself, wondering how much of my likeability depends on my sex-appeal. It also spread itself into a metaphor, proclaiming that people don't necessarily need you to be the version of yourself that benefits them the most. Now, with everything and everybody that has/have happened to me in the past couple years, such concerns have been, for the most part, exterminated, but it feels important to mention.

What's more, it was intensely liberating to realize that, for me, the pinnacle of a relationship between two people is not a super-intimate, love-crazed, daring, trusting, sexually mind-blowing samba. It used to be the dream, sure, but over time I've found that it's not really what I'm looking for. Because in there, somewhere, is mutual dependency, idealistically and perfectly balanced, and not included in my little vision bubble of realistically happy things.
Now, although my libido does, indeed, disagree from with me time to time, what I want most from the people around me is just that connection that keeps conversations going throughout the late hours in the kitchen, the spit-balling back and forth, throwing ideas, observations, admirations around. Joint creation, seewhatididthere, har har.

Being bi has probably had something to do with this, since there is a considerably smaller amount of differentiation within feelings towards people of either sex. Which I find very comfortable, but has also fucked up the perception of my feelings to the extent that I cannot, at times, understand what it is I feel for somebody, no matter how distant or close. Still, I can definitely proclaim that I love all of my friends quite dearly, mostly platonically. It's probably prudent to voice that the confusion is less present than it was when a few certain fucky-uppy relationships were more recent, so yeah, don't worry, it doesn't have to get weird.

My point, though, relates to the title.
There are few things that I value more in this world than the opportunity to trust someone freely, with body, mind, moment - giving and receiving, no questions asked. To be able to enjoy a presence at close proximity without any concerns of what that implies or what's expected of you. An opportunity to caress for the sake of a caress, letting warmth and affection float around without leading you anywhere.
Such an opportunity doesn't necessarily have the option to be understood, not completely, but therein lies the trust and the freedom I am so thankful for.
And in case the previous paragraphs have not unburdened me of the need to clarify, I am not talking about anything more revealing than cuddling. I could be, but as of yet, I am not. My loved ones (see above) are aware of the sensitivity of my body at different levels. I am very fucking ticklish, I have a neck-area-related paranoia/weak spot, and I am amusingly easy to seduce. The fact that I am somewhat more vulnerable that the average Jill does well to deepen my respect for that kind of rare moment I would not have always believed possible. Then again, life seems to get more beautiful and delicate each day.
Go figure.

crushes & cat-piss

I would hate to think that my life patterns and my general liking for people will not throw me into another relationship too soon, but if the past is anything to go by, I don't really stay single for too long. I declare a moratorium from things relationship, ffs
Though I can't say I regret this last encounter in the slightest, however fucked up the general overview of the whole thing might be. Undefined, non-committal, rather challenging; very enjoyable. Yeah, yeah, so I imagined that things would go more smoothly than they did, I got me idealistic dreams, what else is new. There was that silly little part of me that expected Ed to be all distanced, since his face implied that he was, and since I'd finally succeeded in doing so myself. So now I'm responsible for another griefy grief, but we have both learned a lot, and I do mean a lot from each other. So, yeah, fuck you too, you weirdo, hope you're doing okay.

 

Jeff Bridges - Slow Boat

Dienā, kad izšķīros, es aizvilkos pie Diānas un solidarizējos ar viņu, gruzoties un klausījoties "sūdi nāk" dziesmas. Chris Isaak, Lana Del Rey, značit cliché to the max. Vienā brīdī atnāca Žū un bija mīļs, un tad kādā vēlākā brīdī mēs trijatā ostījām dažādus priekšmetus virtuvē ar nodomu lokalizēt kaķa čuru smaku. Tad, ļoti iespējams, skanēja šis seksīgās balss īpašnieks ˄

Dzīve šobrīd ir interesanta, nesūdzos.

sandwich

Feel like creating something, but I am hellishly out of practice in the sketching department, and my wordy muse is nowhere to be found, so I'm settling on a boring image that is roughly familiar to nearly everybody I know.
Having been holed up for about two days, I feel myself sinking into that treacherous brain-space which lives on lazy, binge-like behavior that is nobody's business but my own. I wouldn't say I have done nothing, but it's not much. I've got self-inflicted obligations waiting for me around the corner, though - all clean and dressed and pretty, I will be leaving the premises before long. As much as I ache for the beautiful people out there, there is a part of me reluctant to abandon this comforting place. Ya know. Home.
So excuse my uninterested, tedious prattling. I am bathing in nostalgia and I like it.

There is something to be said about being the only human being in the house, being lulled by the rain outside; happily indulging in very impressive graphic novels, both story-line & art-work wise; typing with one hand because the cat is lying on the other..

 "yaas."

The Antlers - Hospice

images galore

I had the loveliest of trips fri-to-sat. Ed and I set out on our adventure after the sweatiest band practice I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing, being the lucky ones of the evening and receiving the one room without ventilation.
So, acid. The taste was as bitter as the feelings intense. Music came in waves and made me feel like I was holding on for dear life. Goddamn you, Godspeed You!
We were out of sync, which was interesting, seeing as each got to observe the heights of the other from a saner standpoint. We had laughter and owl-demons on walls, and sound mutilations and strawberry ice cream, straight from the box, in the safe haven that is the sofa-bed. One thing we agreed on was that it didn't seem as cold as it usually does.

We were playing it pretty safe, but interesting stuff is always bound to happen, amirite? We had ventured downstairs with sober Pete and encountered some fellow drunken neighbors who were having a party of some sort on the second floor. My cat-friend was there, too - this gray & white little puss that hangs around that front yard from time to time. I'm pretty sure she's either lost of has been abandoned, 'cause she wears this dirty yellow collar and has pretty much adopted that yard, which often houses a very comfy motorcycle I've found her curled up on more than once. She's pretty dirty herself, but, oh, is she ever so sweet.
Our dear neighbors were exceedingly friendly, and Pete fucked off to Chomsky, so what we did, naturally, was join the festivities for a bit. Had some punch, played some Mortal Combat on Sega. Brief and blissful. Not sure if anyone suspected our disposition, but conversation was smooth enough, and they were probably too drunk to care anyway.

Towards the end, we had some obligatory existential conversation, actually went outside and had breakfast in the park, after which the fatigue started kicking in for real. Watched some very odd videos accompanied by a bottle of Lambrusco (of all things), and finally nodded off after 33 hours of no sleep, which was, in turn, remedied by 14 hours of that shit.

The picture above features the blueberries Ed brought back to me after his little nature hike in Mordanga. Mostly unrelated to more recent events.

heart of an artichoke

Apparently there's a sinkhole in our garden.

And art out there that's so good it drains you.

Un es esmu ļoti mazs lācītis.

Trešdiena.

Rets melanholisks rīts.

Biju izgājusi mātes (tobrīd tukšā) dzīvokļa pagalmiņā. Pavēroju lidojošu pūku, pamanīju, ka pār palodzi vienai no logiem ceturtajā stāvā rēgojās kaķa austiņas. Uz brīdi bija acu kontakts. Tad viena auss, tad tikai palodze.

Protams, ka biju neizgulējusies. Nopirku šādu kofeīnu par godu Diānai K. ♥

Vakarā devos satikt sen neredzētu draugu - Arti, kurš ir no Talsiem ar triju gadu pieredzi Vācijā. Aizvedu viņu uz Dad 5 gadu jubileju, burvīgs pasākums. Daudz siltas jūtas, kuras atsvēra rīta nomāktās. Dabūju nest vienu no kūkām.

Kad jau viss bija norimies, izdomājām, ka varētu paciemoties arī Vecrīgā, ja jau viņš šeit jūtas kā tūrists. Izdomāju, ka varētu pačekot DJ Bāru. Pa ceļam mums pievienojās vācietis, ar kuru Artis bija iepazinies jubilejā. Viņu sauc Matthias, viņš ir fiziķis, nogalēs biškopis. Viņš nedzer alu bērnības traumas dēļ un ir iemīlējies mūsu televīzijas tornī. DJ Bārs bija tukšs, tādēļ Alā, kurā danču vakars jau bija beidzies, mēs norunājām līdz brīdim, kad bārmenis ļoti skaisti iejaucās sarunā, lai teiktu, ka jāiet.

Citāts no divu ievērojami vecu vīru sarunas Majoru vilciena stacijā:

"Es sāku sadalīties."

"Es nesāku sadalīties, es sāku izkust."

if Ben Frost could affect the weather

A couple of days ago, while on my way from a train, and to resume what turned out the be a thoroughly amusing transcription process, I had the pleasure of walking in the vicinity of quite the composed woman who had just purchased quite the charming second-hand teddy bear. While waiting at a red light, I observed as she looked him over scrutinisingly, removing a couple bits of fluff, and then peeked down his overalls as if to check whether or not teddy had shat himself.

Inwardly, yet not so secretly, I'm a bit horrified at how bad my memory has appeared to have become. I have been drinking a lot, thanks to my wonderful, beautiful friends. Maybe it's ironic, considering how intent I about preserving memories when I was mostly unhappy.

Edgar showed me another musician who committed suicide. He hanged himself with his shirt from a barred window that wasn't all that high, which means he had to keep his legs off the ground while choking to death.

Roy Buchanan - The Messiah Will Come Again (live 1976)

But Ben Frost isn't dead. And maybe he can affect the weather, because I nodded off on the way back from his concert in Ventspils and reportedly missed the most amazing thunderstorm to grace this country in a good while.
His performance was almost literally mind-blowing, and by this I mean LOUD. And yes, really fucking good. It was quite fascinating to watch him on the stage, barefoot and wild, creating Sound that blasted from the speakers, shook the house to the foundations and me to the bone. I remember thinking: "I want that man."

a later date

Goodmorning.

Some undefinable time span that has lasted to the immediate present has been spent in a haze. Having been deprived of adequate sleepy sustenance, life just seems to get a bit mushy. I am, of course, partly at fault myself, since so many wonderful occurrences happen late at night, but even if I do get the hours, they lack depth, intersected by frequent waking and shifting. Since I've been stupidly happy, I'm not entirely sure what has brought this on.

This particular Thursday I wake after very vivid dreams featuring velociraptors behind doors (holding that round, rattling doorknob and pushing against the door, I couldn't have known that my dream possessed a hint of lucidity - that I was in control over whether or not I'd be able to hold the door closed, and hold I did.) and dead, then not dead father figures (as conviction makes it awfully real at the given moment, that part may just qualify as nightmarish: lying on the floor on his back, with overly pale, bluish skin and a vacant expression), and other already vague somethings having to do with a lot of stress and bright colours. I don't doubt this was under the influence of one of the melatonin pills I received from my mother yesterday, and that it is this I have to thank for the iffy, yet increasing clarity I'm hoping will last the day. I'm guessing that, having obtained the dreamspace to do so, my subconscious let loose a great deal of the thought residue that had accumulated during that time span which I hesitate to call even roughly the past two months, fearing blunder.

I will now cease writing and go off to commit myself to something responsible for a few hours, but oh, how reluctantly so. I keep forgetting how pleasant it is to do stuff I like.
Silly little blueberry

***

Here is what a past Emma naively wrote in hope that it would turn into something lengthy and structurized, ha ha. Considered dumping the whole thing - 'tis a bit stale, but, as she does, the sentimentality of fleeting memories got the better of me.

The "Cosmic Tranceportation" rave. Had no idea what to expect, ended up having the time of my life. Spiderweb decorations, strobe lights, the most lovely smoking breaks I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Paul and Morvv, the freakin' fuzzies all over the place, the guy who wasn't the mayor from BTVS. 
Wandering around alone in perfectly alternating sun, shade and wind while me buddies were working, (business trip, fyi). Them two shady guys in the park and their truly charming female friend who takes nicotine right to the lungs. "Bless you, darling".
Also Ryan, who I approached to avoid them, and who provided just the conversation I was hoping for. /I still haven't checked the music he recommended, jesus/ And last, but nowhere close to least: Maarupee ar Zhuu, M~ un Kalvaanu, seenju buljons. Trips, pastaiga, jumts. Zemenes, tumbas, bezmiegs. Te nav garumziimju.