Fink – Once you get a taste
From the brilliant album Bloom Innocent released last week.
I now own a white vinyl record with a black spec that is not supposed to be there and that is too large for my turntables. It wasn’t cut right… But, with a couple of tricks I was able to play it and it sounds awesome. I like it a lot.
I hope you enjoy it too.
I went on a weekend trip to Germany… Took a selfie, and found my halo 🙂
An unfiltered picture and of course, all I can see are my flaws…
In other news:
The Luxembourgish national literary contest 2020 is about poetry. I want to take part, but for now, I am too much of a coward… We’ll see what happens. The deadline is June 9th, 2020. I believe in my talent, but I never write under pressure. In a prior post, I wrote about my creative process (or lack thereof).
Have a great week.
The poem Lighthouse was written minutes before it was posted. It was inspired by some channel surfing on TV. On one channel, someone said, “you are a fucking lighthouse” on the next was a commercial about stroke prevention, where someone said it felt as if their “brain trickled out of their head.”
I felt a surge of inspiration, but I didn’t have my journal close (read: I was too lazy to go and pick it up from my bedroom – two flights of stairs up).
And so, a tissue (Kleenex, lol) had to do.
This is one of the many poems that were written impulsively and within mere minutes. Other poets could have gotten something else, more polished or in-depth out of this, but not me.
My poetry comes straight from the heart; if I have to work for it, the poem will never see the light of day.
You see? Most of my poems are written like this: sudden inspiration, writing it down, choosing if it is worth posting or not.
I am not one who edits and rewrites their poems. They are all first and last drafts. And unless there is a typo or blatant error in my grammar, it will not change.
Granted, there are exceptions to the rule. For example, when I can’t find the word that fits just right – if I find a better synonym while writing it in an app (this one included), the poem will be slightly altered, but never a lot.
Another layer peeled away,
A lighthouse where the lights went out
My mind trickled out of my head
Specs of darkness in my soul
Sunrise in my heart
This moonless night has to end
Can we pretend?
Through the waves,
crashing against the rocks
Some of me will survive
I am not lost. I am alive.
Sometimes I know what to write but the right words don’t come to make me understandable.
Maybe that’s the downside of not writing anything in my native language. 💜
This afternoon the sun was shining down on me. Very tired though.
Have a great Thursday.
So… I am stunned. Truth is for all my insecurities and all my shortcomings and all my (open) struggles with my mind, I am a flirt.
And I am not doing it on purpose. That’s why the realisation hit me hard.
I am not flirting on purpose but if you read the messages I share with people, it could be read as such.
My secret?! I am kind, understanding, forgiving, and sometimes I am funny too. And the most important, I am open and real. I am not hiding my flaws and I am not hiding my qualities and I know them all quite well.
I am just me. (Extra)Ordinary fat little Cathy.
I have been online since 1999. I was 16 at the time. I was a child, really.
Maybe I know how to sell myself the best way? But if that is the truth, why do I feel invisible and lonely so much?
I don’t know how others see me. And I really want to know. I would love to know how others see me and compare notes….
It will never happen.
PS: I killed a bottle of Bordeaux all by myself tonight and watched two chick-flics without shedding a tear. Maybe the wine is palpable in this post and I’ll die of embarrassment tomorrow.
Do we follow our hearts or our heads?
Thoughts carved in stone weighing me down
Trees of souls burning in flames
Running out of ways to be myself
I lost the woman in the mirror
There should be passion and hope and lust
But I can only see void emptiness bathed in dust
Make me go away. Deactivated mind.