My favourite kinds of conversations are the ones which do not involve too many people. One to three people apart from me are okay most of the time. I don’t really like scheduled conversations because they can feel pretty unnatural and awkward (especially when someone says they want to talk to me alone without telling me why), but recently I learned to enjoy meeting up with a person one on one for coffee or hot chocolate to talk about university and a little bit about life. If they are the ones to ask it is much more comfortable, because then I know they really want to spend time with me or maybe even get advise. I love deep, meaningful conversations that seem to come out of the blue, like the ones when after a visit the first round of good-byes is said, but you just keep talking and sit down on the floor in the hallway for another hour. Or the day we met a friend at the station and stood there for an hour in the middle of the night, walked home, and stood there on the street for some more time. I even enjoy university related small-talk when I run across a fellow student in a building and it feels good to just stand there for a moment and compare the classes we attend or our homework loads. I love conversations that make me feel better. Talking to a lot of people or being in a big group which tends to split up into two or three groups talking among themselves makes me feel tired and exhausted, but when I spent some time talking to a person I really like it can leave me with a feeling of being more alive, more interested in getting a project started, or just emotionally satisfied and truly happy. Conversations which make me feel close to a person, and give me the impression of catching a glimpse of their heart.
Normally I like only a few songs by a musician/band (or a few from each album), but there are some albums I like as a whole. At the moment my favourite music albums are: “Signature” and “Two Horizons” by Moya Brennan. “A Collection of Roxette Hits: Their 20 Gratest Songs!” (compilation album by Roxette … obviously.) These tree albums have been on my favourite list for a long time, and I don’t think this will change. So many thoughts and dreams and stories they lace through. Also on the current list are “Home” (The Corrs) and the soundtrack album of Pixar’s “Brave”. Occasionally I enjoy two Celtic themed, very dreamy instrumental albums “Across the Blue Sea” (Simon Wood) and “Celtic Heart” (Simon Wood & Richard Lacy) I can’t listen to them very often, but when I do, I usually listen to all the tracks and in their default order, because otherwise my routine-fixed brain is confused. Another item on the “sometimes” list is “Mayacalämay”, an album consisting of Quechua worship songs and their German translations (Quechua sung by a German woman I know). When I was younger I used to love “Songs from the Wood” by Jethro Tull, but I haven’t listened to it in completion in what feels like ages. Maybe I should give it a try again.
My favourite fair is the historical medieval market/fair in my old hometown. It takes part every year on one of the the weekends in October, and it is quite a spectacle: heralds, priests, caged and tortured “prisoners”, witches running around screaming, lots of arts and crafts, smoky food stalls, smaller animals like sheep or ponies, musicians, and other performers like fire-breathers or stilt-walkers. It is fun to wander around, look at all the nice things, learn a thing or to from the spice vendors, try exotic dried fruits or “dragon eggs”, or try your luck with your archery skills. For kids there is even a wooden carousel pushed by people, not powered by electricity! Oh, the colourful costumes, the aroma of spices and fire … tomorrow the fair will be opened. I’m pretty excited, because I missed it the last four years. Oh boy, how I missed it. On Monday university will start again, but this weekend we’ll have fun. “Let’s drink a toast to tomorrow, and one to days long ago” (Blackmore’s Night: Toast to tomorrow). Nah, I won’t drink alcohol I guess, but rhytons look really cool.
Hi everyone, I’m a little late because I haven’t been online yesterday. At the moment I’m out of town and enjoying the countryside for some days, so stay tuned for an update on my photoblog!
Just a short post today –
Favourite summertime activities: going for walks and taking pictures in the countryside (obviously, and today darling was tagging along, which was also fun), reading books, doing a bit of easy crafting (warmth = glue/paint/water dries faster), meeting friends outside – just being lazy and talking for hours, and if ice cream or a barbecue are involved, all the better. Somehow summertime makes me dream about places far away, different (more natural) ways of life, beautiful things of all kinds, and it makes me want to throw out some stuff to get a more airy feeling in the apartment.
Everybody could write poetry
but few do so
most people don’t trust themselves to pour this bittersweet gold of honey from their lips
afraid the world would hear nothing but the stickiness they feel between their teeth when trying
afraid it could clog their nine to five pens
afraid of being called dreamers.
When did dreaming become undesirable?
When did we forget the ancient art of piecing thoughts together into a flaming mosaic, the art of pouring this honey into patterns on the hard-won bread to make the tired and weary hungry again for life and laughter? When did we become scared of emotion deeper than the cavity of our dry mouths?
We don’t win our bread by touching the soil anymore, we don’t remember the stings accompanying the harvest of the last honey of the year, we don’t know how to wait for the right seasons anymore. We are lost, strangers to our world, merely taking whatever is provided by endless acres of supermarkets, grocery stores, vending machines. Consuming in haste, eating on the way to work to earn another year’s worth of bread, and yet not taking the time to taste the piece we hold in our hand.
Everybody could write poetry
but few take the time to taste life
afraid to waste time
afraid of finding out what we’ve given up.
Everybody could write poetry
and I won’t leave it to the so-called professionals, self-proclaimed experts
to find out what life tastes like
to define what is art and beauty.
I will write poetry again.
This (or better the first few lines) came into my head while I was in bed with a spell of migraine-ish headache this evening. I can’t find anything good to write about for weeks, and then it comes to me while my head is throbbing and I don’t want to move or stare at a glowing computer screen … life is weird. Seriously.
You can also find this on my deviantART account: