A Coffee Long

 There is a day on a map of every month. This is a day meant to contain a spare time. For me spare time is an unusual occasion to jump into another reality, draw a situation and just sneak inside unspotted, leaving behind me a world of a grey kitchen. The problem is that a day like that is usually specifically long. A coffee long. 

 Today, caught in Monkey Seduction I was watching a picture on a page feeling tied to the chair. The page was empty. I was hung over my imagination, couldn't find any input to set me free on this sad Wednesday. Of course, I had my coffee, and a lot of desires tearing my mind til it find a way away. But it was like the waves going against me recently, the ones to overcome and the ones not to let around. And I realized that once Monkey Seduction passes, there is nothing else behind. Just an empty page, and my silent mind trying to swallow the flies falling down through past two weeks of my life. The doubt, the constancy hidden in disappointment and an unexpected visit of The Guy I Lived With. The silence of a night, a sight, an old disappointment, old fear, bad fear, new fear, new hope, new dust, new smile, new day, new chance to draw. New blink of your eyes. 

 And I wanted to give you a magical island tonight. But it passes. The page is empty. Time to go to bed, to let the mind sleep so the demons can come around.

Handwriting for children.

 Modern ages terrify me. That's something all of my closest friends know about me and therefore never ask me to send something via email or scan any documents. It's not about my literacy, God sake! It's just that I don't really feel like modern technics are able to chase my mind in appropriate way and time. 

 This is why running a blog got me recently overwhelmed. But I cannot live without Monkey Seduction anymore. Writing is an addiction, worse then gambling, alcohol or any phobias or passions you can imagine. I write so I am. This is the condition of being me, outspoken. 

 Till the moment I started my life online I've been pursuing handwriting since I remember. My hand is the only thing which can think for me, work for me and be always there on time. I bet some people agree, even with a bit different passions then writing. Anyway, how to replace your pen with keyboard? Keyboard is always late, always stupid, decreasing and is a subject to many conditions you do not wish to know.

Love Letters part II

 I am puting my hand to the glass. I am watching it for a while til it stops to have any shape for me. I am trying to feel the landscape behind the window, but after a moment I stop to feel any cold under my fingers. Behing my hand, there is only darkness. 

 I do this every evening, when I start to feel the undeniable lack of you. I wait by the table in the kitchen, despite the fact that I know you are not going to come. When it gets dark I get up and I go out for a walk. Because I know you are not meant to come. Then I come back home, knowing it well that you are not meant to come and I put my hand to the glass. After that I close my eyes. And I think about the letter I will write to you today once again, the one you will never read. I do this every evening. 

'Esperanza'

Love Letters

It's probably one of the most forgotten fine arts in the world. Not because people almost don't write letters anymore at all, but rather becuase people don't express their feelings the way they used to anymore. That makes IT even sadder reminding the fact that love letters used to have their own, special place in the history. Despite it, nobody reads love letters anymore even if they are written by Guillaume Apolinaire. Somehow, love letters writing became an inconvenient substitute of an in-depth intimacy we're all ashamed about and don't want to let into our awareness. To be truth, I'm including a love letter written by me, as a part of 'Esperanza'. Although I've written some of my own too. 

All you need is Reality!, or at least that's what you think.

This is Monkey Seduction Conspiracy. Listen to me carefully because I am not going to repeat. The telegraph has bene taken over. But we won't give up. Monkey Seduction will survive! 

 Yes. The message said so, the nightmare has come true- I became a blogger without a computer. If my story was written by Voltaire it would probably never happen. And tank to that, today I am going to the direction I wanted to' go to for a long time: storytelling perception. Basically it's something most of the readers calls 'story'. But it's way much than story. Once The Guy I Lived With after one of our arguments about a sense of watching TV finished his thought by saying: 'you Are completely disconnected from reality'. He experienced a disappointment when I actually got it positive. And it was not about the difference between other points of view, it was about expectations.It was more or less Henrik Ibsen: do we want a true even if we can live better without it? Is the reality for we really need? The best example is always a movie. Woody Allen tried to get storytelling perception into a practice. His 'Melinda and Melinda' is a perfect illustration for that: the story not showed from a different poni of view, but the story already invented with an all-inclusive perception. Dramma or comedy? Reality or a dream? With milk or without? Nowadays we have not only different technologies but also different illustrations for storytelling perception. Instead of well known Woody Allen movies let's use blogs. Take a breath and answer the question: why do you read me? What do you need at the moment, what do you want from me? My storytelling has a ready, written in perception, just like everything you get from any sort of media. The point is that some of them are drammas: they show you what you consider as true. Some are 'comedies'- they show you a product of an immagination. Monkey Seduction is going to sleep, and you think: do you need a reality? Would you like to turn a TV on? I don't think so.

Disappearance and the Submarine

 This is post is not going to be funny. To bore an to depress their small amount of readers- that's a suicide most of the bloggers commit sooner or later. Today I wish to tell about something I am paranoid about. This is more than anxiety. This is something paralizing and taking the breathe away, for a moment usually quick to pass but leaving you with an unpleasant feeling, that it can happen once again. This thing is called d i s a p p e a r a n c e. A friend of a friend of a friend of mine once said that people can disappear easily and it one of those things you have to calculate no matter how impossible it seems to be. Afterall, I think he was at least partly right.

Esperanza- middle piece.

 The main character of 'Esperanza' is a man who's fiancee disappeared several years ago. One day, convinced that he saw her walking on the street, he decides to take a desperate journey through his past to find the truth. 

 Since that time I knew, that never again, I just can't lose anything anymore. So I spent my life surrounded by material things, things which couldn't leave or fade away and which always remain a one captured moment. I was collecting articles from newspapers about daily events and flyers advertising temporary discounts. I was taking pictures of decorated shops' windows and I was writing down overheard in the tram sounds of strangers' talks. It was all to believe, that it's possible to capture the moment. And even to keep it forever.