Things Happen

You know, I have this life.
I don't always sit in front of my computer in the dark of night.

So I have a job and that makes me do things.
I go to school and I have to take exams.

I am an amazing student. I am. Bright as the sun - my mother would tell you.

And I am working on a performance.

Things happen all the time. For instance there is this woman, with the curious name who keeps on calling me on the phone. We talk. She asks me questions. I answer them.It is only polite to do so.

I don't know who the fuck she is.

On Monday she wanted to meet me on the Octogon.I didn't go.

Things happen.

To Kill a Blog

I keep on thinking of my blog as if it was a tamagochi or a bonsai.
I have irrational anxieties about it.
I feel this rootless senseless fear, that it will die:
Because I don't feed it.
Because don't water it.
The blog will die.
Budapie will be no more.

And after it dies it will be sad.
Like standing in an empty room where many were waiting for you, but you just couldnt go, and than you are alone.

Than you write alone.

But the blog is not a tamagotchi. Or a bonsai.
It will stay a blog even if the tram cuts down my head tomorrow.

And that is comforting. That is reassuring.

You always write alone.

Granada

So I have decided to name my unborn child if she will be a girl: Ganada.
To call her Grana. Or Ada. Or Nada.
So this fire burns every time her name is spoken.
So even her signature will resonate duende.
But nobody likes it.
I am not pregnant.

This issue is not urgent.

Shakespeare and Chili con Carne

There is an endless list of what goes on in my domesticity.
I cook in my kitchen.
I direct in my living room.
I write in the study.
And in the bedroom....
In the bedroom...
In the bedroom...
Love sleeps on the pillows.
Love wakes in the morning.
Life rests at night.

Tragedy and Terror in a Mug

The tragedy is when everything is sick: from God to the last pebble everything is wrong somehow.

In tragedies people do things and than they die.

Tragedy is a sort of dramatic form with misfortune or bad deeds at the center.

A real life tragedy is however that I have have no milk for coffee tomorrow.

I will wake and I will despise my empty and cold fridge.

The day will not start. It will benign without me.

And naturally it is minus 40 degrees out, so I can not just buy a semi-pint of milk from MR and Mr vegetable man in my PJ-s.

The silent and objectless terror a winter morning.

Freedom

"Freedom is when you can consume countless chocolate pretzels in the dark of night in your bed.

Another manifestation of freedom is when they don't shoot you ten times when you speak up.

Some freedoms we have, others we don't."

Breath

In such a weird place wright now.
I breathe all funny.
My biorhythm is like a jazz-piece.
My social life is carrot-like.
I don't eat sugar.
I am manufacturing great creative plans.
I am starting a new carrier.
I am having exams at university.
I am temporarily broke.
I am addicted to the internet.
I am addicted to the internet.
I am addicted to the internet.
And I breath all funny.
What is all this about?

I should

I should

- take a shower
- wash my hair
- brush my teeth
- dress up
- make a sandwich
- eat it
-leave the comfort of my flat
-distance myself from the keyboard
- face the world

I should.

2009.01.01

And the morning after thin virgin snow fell on the empty streets.
And they were all sleeping.
And they woke and they didn't want to wake.
Ant they moved the time forward and set their numbers back.
And they feasted on leftovers.
And they listened to Kossuth Radio.