As you might or might not know, I am re-watching the whole X-Files series at the moment. I’ve started some two weeks ago with the very first episode, when Scully’s hair was at its longest and Mulder sprays the green X on the street in the middle of the forest in Oregon.
I loved this series when I was young. I was and still am rather unimpressed by the later seasons (7–9) because of all this baby William business and the two new agents.

Today I started one of the season two episodes, D.P.O. (starring a young Jack Black – this was 1995! and, apparently “the guy from Avatar” (which I’ve never seen).

And there it was. THE song. And I remembered. This episode was the reason I bought James’ Best Of Album “Fresh As A Daisy”.

And there was the memory. The memory of me, trying to understand the lyrics, the few words you can actually hear being sung in the episode, googling the fragments of text and finally whispering “James” and grinning because the band’s name is the same as I use to call my best friend.

It’s just such an uplifting song in a way. For me it’s a sign, a symbol for breaking free, letting go of old stuff, the image that is forming in my head is that of a person breaking out from inside of a statue, stretching their arms and legs and unfolding their wings.

I’ve walked this earth for years, thinking Getting Away With It (All Messed Up) had been the first song by James that I ever heard when it had been this one all along.

{I found an mp3 of me singing getting away with it (all messed up)… which you will never get to hear. :-p}

Don’t you just love those moments in life when you suddenly remember the first time you heard a song or smelled a certain smell? The first time you stumbled upon a particular word?
I certainly do!

This is not the end, a new beginning!

Ring, ring the bells
Wake the town
Everyone is sleeping
Shout at the crowd
Wake them up
This anger’s deeper than sleep
Got to keep awake to what is happening
I can’t see a thing through my ambition,
I no longer feel my God is watching over me
Got to tell the world we’ve all been dreaming
This is not the end, a new beginning
I no longer feel my God is watching over me

Break, break the code
Concentrate
Let the doors swing open
See through all your walls
All your floors
Now you’re in deeper than sleep

Got to keep awake to what is happening
I can’t see a thing through my ambition,
I no longer feel my God is watching over me
Got to tell the world we’ve all been dreaming
This is not the end, a new beginning
I no longer feel my God is watching over me

When you let me fall
Grew my own wings
Now I’m as tall as the sky
When you let me drown
Grew gills and fins
Now I’m as deep as the sea
When you let me die
My spirit’s free
There’s nothing challenging me

{big warm hugs to Angie®}

right. I’m in strange mood and in a strange state of mind.
I want to go out and do stuff, buy stuff, old books mainly, to scan the fonts and use them to create stuff, I want a new table but I have nowhere to put it, I want silver boots but I can’t find such a thing  round here and for fuck’s sake, I want to be thinner but I can’t buy that anywhere and that annoys the hell out of me.
One minute I think I need a new computer to play all the fancy computer games on, the next minute I remember that 1) I get all sick and headachy when I play computer games and 2) I have no money to buy a really good computer.
One minute I think I need a remote control thing for my DSLR camera to make better photos, the next minute I know that my photos suck anyway and that I don’t need such a thing.
This remote control only costs 30 Francs by the way, so that is not a problem of not having enough money. This is just a problem of me not being able to decide WHAT I FUCKING WANT.

I want to go to Zurich and walk through the city, take photographs of everything and nothing, smiling at the old beautiful buildings and at the fact that nobody else seems to notice their beauty. I want to go on one of those boats on Lake Zurich and travel from Zurich to Rapperswil or the other way round but I know there will be tons of other people because the weather’s so nice and besides, it’s too late to do that today.

I slept 11 hours last night but I look and feel as if I spent those hours in a washing machine running in spin cycle.

There is this graphic tablet sitting on my desk about 70 cm away from me. It is that exact tablet that made me buy windows 7 last year. It was (the not correctly installed) Windows 7 that made my computer slow and rendered me unable to use any of the Adobe progs. It’s the not running Adobe progs that made me use the laptop for the last 7 months because they were still working on it. It’s the tiny screen of the laptop that stopped me from doing anything in any Adobe prog, because I just can’t see a thing on it. It is that circumstance that made me reinstall win7 on the PC. So it is all working again now. Except this bloody tablet which I haven’t installed yet because I just can’t be arsed to to so. I don’t need it. I can’t draw, not on paper, not on a screen, no matter how many graphic tablets I buy.

I should make a bracelet for someone in the UK. I should finish one of the books and send it off.
I have about 50 unread books to read. I have about as many books to write.

I feel the need, the urge to create things. No matter what – write, draw, paint, take photographs, create cards and posters, make music (haha – I don’t even play an instrument), sing, talk. And at the same time, I’m building a wall right in front of me, made of “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”-bricks.

Do you know that feeling… being bored and feeling unable to do anything at the same time?
It’s like being trapped in a big giant bowl of cotton candy. It smells and it stops you from moving the way you want and the more you try to move, the stickier and slower you get.

———–

I’ve been listening to this song for days on end now.
Imogen Heap – First Train Home

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ax84xcaLfHs

Haven’t had time for SC for some time but here’s my entry for Saturday Centus – Week 12. The prompt is set in bold.

———

Driving six hours is a long time on the road. Six hours spent singing car-aoke and taking in the picturesque scenery, but mostly reminiscing about the good times. But those days were long gone and my mind was in a different place now. Or was it? My pulse quickened as I passed the road sign which read “Medford 27 miles.”

The reason it quickened was that I had passed this same sign about seven times in what seemed fifteen minutes at most. I knew that by the next time, I would wake up. I REALLY needed to find out why I kept dreaming about this place.

Here’s my entry for the fourth week of Saturday Centus. The prompt is set in bold. And it consists of exactly one hundred words.

Last week my father invited me to go to a museum. I’m not really into museums but I had been in this one before. A collection of Art Brut. Nonetheless, I decided to accompany him and show him my favourite piece of art.
As soon as we got into the exhibition, he disappeared.

“May I help you, miss? You look puzzled.” The woman behind the counter looked concerned.

“Mmmm… thank you, I’m just looking for my father. We came in together a moment ago, but he seems to have wandered off.”

And suddenly I knew where I would find him.

After I was too late for the first week of Saturday Centus (I’m quite good at not doing or postponing things I actually want to do) I decided to write this one while the week is still young. It was a bit of a challenge in more than one way: I hate to be brief! And I don’t know anything about flying (I even had to google “Cessna 172”). And English isn’t my first language. And I hate to be brief! (I haven’t mentioned it before, have I?) Anyway. Here it is.

The prompt is set in bold:

The small Cessna 172 picked up speed as it roared down the runway, Sara at the controls, the flight instructor beside her, she realised: Today was the day. The day she had dreaded for months. This was not just another lesson – it was her flying test. Sara went back to the dream last night. She was standing on a viewing platform somewhere in the mountains. Then she began to run and jumped over the railing. The feeling was overwhelming. The wind in her hair, tearing at her clothes. She was flying! Her heart wanted to explode. Then Sara heard the instructor’s voice and she was back in the small plane. “You fly like an eagle”, the instructor said smiling.

I’m still fighting with wordpress.
suppose I always will be.
but at least I could install it successfully this time.

I seem to dream rather … Unreal stuff these days.
Last night I dreamt I was sleeping in a room in a house quite similar to the one I actually live in.
The window was open, there were trees outside an suddenly I heard a
loud sound. A panda climbed through the window into my room and
seemed to get angry when the door to the living room wasn’t open…
I got up and opened the door as well as the door in the living room
leading to the garden while the panda pursued me and bit my shoulder
which – surprisingly – didn’t hurt.

I went after the animal into the garden where my mother was sitting on a bench, a Bernese mountain dog lying next to her. I asked if a panda had passed… she said the dog was the only animal she’d seen in this garden for a while.
As I looked at the dog I saw his eyes… the panda’s eyes. Round and black.

Creepy!!

sometimes it would just be so great to have someone to say those little words.

it’s okay.

something’s going on behind my back… something sketchy and blurred…

something I cannot see

And I’m like a leaf on a tree, always there but never quite noticed.

(can’t remember whether I alreday posted that somewhere…)