Right size.
Right place.
Heartbeat.
It is now real. It is alive and well.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
27/09/2010
All the things you can not to
To begin with you are just this unassuming animal, and nature or life of whatever uses you like a bio-puppet to do their bidding.
And than enters society from the left and scares you with all possible numbers, statistics, images, personal accounts and many of the possible outcomes.
Marching in comes science with all the health-facts and the list of forbidden pleasures or in some cases necessities just keeps on growing.
Do not eat sushi, or camamber, for god sake.
Stay away from peanuts.
Don't touch raw meat but cook fresh every day.
Bla, bla, bla.
And than you have to give up smoking, this most prescious of bad habits, and at that point you are having a full-blown identity crises somewhere between hounting image of the suburban housewife-maximus you are destined to become, and the fucking candel profile pictures af all the miscarried cyber-mums-not-to be.
I do not belong.
But let me have this child. My child.
I know life or nature or destiny, that you failed to deliver a proper blow in the past 3 years or so, I know you think it is highest time to break me again, lets do the phenix once more you humm, and it gives me the chills.
Wont it do, that I will be fat like never before? Wont is satisfy your hunger for dramatics that it will break my carrier, deform my perfect breasts and shred my vagina?
Don't you think it is a bit abrupt even cheap to take it away from me right when I willingly embrace all those changes?
Only the emergency screening will tell.
And than enters society from the left and scares you with all possible numbers, statistics, images, personal accounts and many of the possible outcomes.
Marching in comes science with all the health-facts and the list of forbidden pleasures or in some cases necessities just keeps on growing.
Do not eat sushi, or camamber, for god sake.
Stay away from peanuts.
Don't touch raw meat but cook fresh every day.
Bla, bla, bla.
And than you have to give up smoking, this most prescious of bad habits, and at that point you are having a full-blown identity crises somewhere between hounting image of the suburban housewife-maximus you are destined to become, and the fucking candel profile pictures af all the miscarried cyber-mums-not-to be.
I do not belong.
But let me have this child. My child.
I know life or nature or destiny, that you failed to deliver a proper blow in the past 3 years or so, I know you think it is highest time to break me again, lets do the phenix once more you humm, and it gives me the chills.
Wont it do, that I will be fat like never before? Wont is satisfy your hunger for dramatics that it will break my carrier, deform my perfect breasts and shred my vagina?
Don't you think it is a bit abrupt even cheap to take it away from me right when I willingly embrace all those changes?
Only the emergency screening will tell.
23/09/2010
And on the second day
the London rain came down strong and gray, kept her at the flat.
The urge was great, but so was her might and she had no cigarette.
And came dark thoughts and burning fears, but knew its probably just the nicotine. Or the lack of it. No rhyme.
Played with thought, toyed with a flag, trying to flip it between fingers, did not break it, did not light it, hero of thursday, thy ashtray it dry.
The urge was great, but so was her might and she had no cigarette.
And came dark thoughts and burning fears, but knew its probably just the nicotine. Or the lack of it. No rhyme.
Played with thought, toyed with a flag, trying to flip it between fingers, did not break it, did not light it, hero of thursday, thy ashtray it dry.
22/09/2010
Change
Oh you know, life will pick you up and throw you far away from the familiar and predictable, before you would ever flirt with boredom.
So in my self-afflicted house-arrest I decided to briefly explaing why there was the big break: we moved away from Budapest. And in my head this blog was strongly tied to living there. It did not work out. It broke my heart, but it came to an end and I am back in London since 17 months. (for the time being)
And that was when the economy crashed and burned and I thought I will never get a job, but I did. And it was a dream, and as of today I still have it. Head of Communication and Programming at the Hungarian Cultural Centre London. Sort of deputy.
But life might just pick me up and throw me to royal windsor. Say no more.
But change is good. I choose this lighter skin for my blog, I changed my hair recently, I got married since I last wrote.
Change is great, yesterday I was a smoker today I am not.
And I have not even told you about the biggest change of all...
So in my self-afflicted house-arrest I decided to briefly explaing why there was the big break: we moved away from Budapest. And in my head this blog was strongly tied to living there. It did not work out. It broke my heart, but it came to an end and I am back in London since 17 months. (for the time being)
And that was when the economy crashed and burned and I thought I will never get a job, but I did. And it was a dream, and as of today I still have it. Head of Communication and Programming at the Hungarian Cultural Centre London. Sort of deputy.
But life might just pick me up and throw me to royal windsor. Say no more.
But change is good. I choose this lighter skin for my blog, I changed my hair recently, I got married since I last wrote.
Change is great, yesterday I was a smoker today I am not.
And I have not even told you about the biggest change of all...
I have done it before
Yes about 3 years ago, so i know it is possible.
I know that eventhough you think your life will come to a frustrating end, it does not.
There is pain I remember, physical, mental torment.
One gets very tense.
One cant shit.
One starts caughing up the gray matter of the lung. - Are you ok? People knocking on the door.
One wants nothing more than to sleep through the day.
Oh my god. I have just reached for a cigarette, involuntary, uncounscious movement.
This is the real bitch, that it is deeply rooted in you. Deeper than you know.
You should not even try to imagine it, you who never smoked. For me it was like your lung is going to collapse. A frightening spasm on the inside, as if by giving up smoking, you forgot how to breathe as well. Until you light a cigarette your sheer exsistance is in danger, and you have to live through it minute by minute.
I went without a cigarette 26 minutes since I woke up, but who is counting.
I know that eventhough you think your life will come to a frustrating end, it does not.
There is pain I remember, physical, mental torment.
One gets very tense.
One cant shit.
One starts caughing up the gray matter of the lung. - Are you ok? People knocking on the door.
One wants nothing more than to sleep through the day.
Oh my god. I have just reached for a cigarette, involuntary, uncounscious movement.
This is the real bitch, that it is deeply rooted in you. Deeper than you know.
You should not even try to imagine it, you who never smoked. For me it was like your lung is going to collapse. A frightening spasm on the inside, as if by giving up smoking, you forgot how to breathe as well. Until you light a cigarette your sheer exsistance is in danger, and you have to live through it minute by minute.
I went without a cigarette 26 minutes since I woke up, but who is counting.
I know I have to
Day one of cold turkey. Morning. Coffe. I forgot to pour in milk or sweeten it with sugar. Guess I am a bit nervous.
Day one of not smoking. Morning. Coffe. No cigarette.
And of course I have longingly entertained the thought that one goodby cigarette could not hurt in fact it would rid of the nasty morning cravibgs - nastier than all really - but if I do that, than in ten minutes I will be 10 minutes into giving up, ands as it stands, given that I have just woken, I have not had a cigarette for a whole 10 hours.
I know I have to.
Let me get some milk and sugar.
Day one of not smoking. Morning. Coffe. No cigarette.
And of course I have longingly entertained the thought that one goodby cigarette could not hurt in fact it would rid of the nasty morning cravibgs - nastier than all really - but if I do that, than in ten minutes I will be 10 minutes into giving up, ands as it stands, given that I have just woken, I have not had a cigarette for a whole 10 hours.
I know I have to.
Let me get some milk and sugar.
20/04/2009
Smoking
It is all red on the top, fire and tabacco, it is all white and slim in the middle and at the tip of it, there are my red lips, huggig the brown paper wrapping around the plastick, and there is thin grey smoke sliding in my loung and out.
In and out.
In and out.
All about the cigarett.
Lighters in the pocket.
Lighters in the bag.
Ashtray on the table.
I am smoking again.
It is terrible and terrific.
In and out.
In and out.
All about the cigarett.
Lighters in the pocket.
Lighters in the bag.
Ashtray on the table.
I am smoking again.
It is terrible and terrific.
Summertime
In april nevertheles.
My blood is heavy but circulates faster.
My hair is really messy.
I am going to see my own show today again. It is a fasciating thing, theatre is - you sit with many people in the same room and the lights are all pretty and everyting that happens on stage you know, most of it you created and everybody is looking at that for a whole hour.
Nobody talks.
Nobody is on the phone.
No computers either.
It is a fascinating microcosmos of fictional reality.
It is a very rare and intensive encounter and experience with starngers, theatre is.
Yet there was this person, a little woman with bare feet and curly hair, she had red wine and soure cream in front of her.
This person farted.
The fart was short but loud.
Theatre is really funny sometimes.
My blood is heavy but circulates faster.
My hair is really messy.
I am going to see my own show today again. It is a fasciating thing, theatre is - you sit with many people in the same room and the lights are all pretty and everyting that happens on stage you know, most of it you created and everybody is looking at that for a whole hour.
Nobody talks.
Nobody is on the phone.
No computers either.
It is a fascinating microcosmos of fictional reality.
It is a very rare and intensive encounter and experience with starngers, theatre is.
Yet there was this person, a little woman with bare feet and curly hair, she had red wine and soure cream in front of her.
This person farted.
The fart was short but loud.
Theatre is really funny sometimes.
12/04/2009
Out of the blue
..comes anxiety and takes you by the throat and your skin turns grey. An elegant shade of grey that serves as a backdrop to your moth that mumbels, your blue eyes that loose focus and it gives a place of origin to those sounds, like:
I am sorry.
Don't keep telling that to your self.
Lets eat something.
I am smoking again. I am fat like never before and I am back at the awful habbit of putting burning cigarettes into my mouth.
The mother of my friend died.
And I would like to smoke another cigarette and I would like to hold my mother and not speak bitternes with her but take her to the Eden Project and other places she wants to go while she is alive.
It is a thin white line that connects us to the rest of humanity, it is so fragile.
I go to Tesco.
She goes to Tesco.
Life.
I am in london in a non-smoking hotelroom and I started smoking again with my lover. Every time I desire a fag I have to dress my fat body and go down the stairs, out on the cold street to join all the other loosers.
He is falling asleep.
I cant help but waste time.
Some people said that they read this, and that was really nice, so I thought I would share some thoughts.
I am sorry they were a bit selfindulgent.
But it is difficult times ahead and that creates less inspiering blog entries.
But to make it up to you I will insert a picture, you children of visual culture will be sure to enjoy.
Sorry didn't work.
I am sorry.
Don't keep telling that to your self.
Lets eat something.
I am smoking again. I am fat like never before and I am back at the awful habbit of putting burning cigarettes into my mouth.
The mother of my friend died.
And I would like to smoke another cigarette and I would like to hold my mother and not speak bitternes with her but take her to the Eden Project and other places she wants to go while she is alive.
It is a thin white line that connects us to the rest of humanity, it is so fragile.
I go to Tesco.
She goes to Tesco.
Life.
I am in london in a non-smoking hotelroom and I started smoking again with my lover. Every time I desire a fag I have to dress my fat body and go down the stairs, out on the cold street to join all the other loosers.
He is falling asleep.
I cant help but waste time.
Some people said that they read this, and that was really nice, so I thought I would share some thoughts.
I am sorry they were a bit selfindulgent.
But it is difficult times ahead and that creates less inspiering blog entries.
But to make it up to you I will insert a picture, you children of visual culture will be sure to enjoy.
Sorry didn't work.
31/01/2009
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.
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.
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.
26/01/2009
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.
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.
12/01/2009
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.
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.
06/01/2009
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.
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.
05/01/2009
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."
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 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.
- 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.
01/01/2009
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.
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.
28/12/2008
Wallflowers
Time to show you something comfortably disturbing again.
Something terribly beautiful.
For much more visist: www.raycaesar.com
EAT
I eat everything that gets in my way, so be careful:
Do not smell good or look appetizing when I am near.
You will be wise to do so.
Do not smell good or look appetizing when I am near.
You will be wise to do so.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)