Best of Futureshorts 2010

Futureshorts @ club Alcohol (Plovdiv) = time well spent. A beautiful night full of lots of good movies. The Lost Tribes of NYC is just one of the many amazing things I saw. And I feel obliged to share. Enjoy!!!

...empty bottles

after i have emptied so many bottles - alone and all by myself - i felt obliged to write about it. i didn't say to write sth meaningful or good...or even tolerable, but i write. i wrote so much bullshit and said even more and now when i type and caress the keyboard as if she's my lover i copy and paste shit. there isn't anything like the sight of an amputated spirit was said in a great american film once. there is - living with(out) one. breathing and wishing from your heart to just stop. not because you are the saddest person and because your life is the worst in all the universe. because, let's face it, there are people far worse. but drinking from so many bottles, swallowing the bacteria and saliva of all those lonely broken souls and adding this messed up universe to yourself is getting unbearable. i wish to lie on the floor with an ashtray, a pack of strong cigarettes and a bottle of cheap wine. not to be disturbed by anyone. except my own illusions. they are - sometimes - quite ok...unlike my awoken life.

empty whiskey bottles and rusty cans of beer

lined like domino pieces on the floor

waiting for the perfect moment to fall

a sneaky cockroach playing games between them

while one more cigarette is being rolled

it goes between her lips –

the filter is the color of her blood

a hand caresses her hips

she exhales with eyes wide shut

empty bottles forming a maze where dreams stop being

into a grey cloud of tobacco smoke where eyes stop seeing

a hand reaches for her loins

her mouth tastes of a single malt

drops of rain and endless pleasure

induced by two naked bodies

in a hail storm

somewhere in the gardens of Eden

or in a room inhabited by empty bottles

a sneaky cockroach is playing games

while she inhales

while she exhales

until she drowns

until she suffocates

xmas tree

decorating the xmas tree is pointless. and boring. and i hate it. as a whole, xmas is pointless. and boring. and, the very least, i dislike it.

so i counter it with ninjas!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ACBxu1k9Ts

on balance...

after smoking over 30 cigarettes for the last 24 hours and drinking massive amounts of red bull, i finished with the last assignment of the semester. on balance, i don't feel any smarter than 4 months ago or more knowledgeable for that matter. on the other hand, it's getting clearer in my mind. i mean the picture for the future. definitely not a career in academia. i think i have to have a good rest this winter combined with some preliminary research for my bachelor thesis for next semester. hopefully, some sort of a job or internship for the summer and then, again hopefully, master's in leiden. but future is too far. plans are helpful guides but as we all know most of the time they don't come true. we just tend not to follow them.

nothing interesting as usual. i wonder why i keep bothering writing this stuff, probably cuz after 0.5l of red bull falling asleep is not an easy task. which reminds me i haven't smoked a fag in some time. which leads me to the conclusion that i might put some pants on and go downstairs to light one.

one advice to the few people who will cause permanent damage to their brains by following my blog - don't mix energizing liquids with inspiration. the result is an essay done hours before planned and a sleepless and boring night. boring cuz as usual is a lonely night. not that i am not used to them but still... whatever never mind as the poet said once in the 90's.

last, the important thing is that i am fucking done!!! essay will be edited one more time before sent to be graded but it is done. done. done!!! and btw: Hard Candy is an awesome movie. fuck yeah!

where's the little prince?

“The grown-ups are certainly altogether extraordinary,” he said simply, talking to himself as he continued on his journey.

Sadly, Exupéry’s little prince didn't happen to visit the planet of the college student. It certainly would have been a memorable experience, for it is a small planet, full of insecurity but surprisingly vain and arrogant. The only inhabitant talks a lot without saying much just like the grown-ups but, although he does not admit it, doesn't let go a question just like the little prince. It is a peculiar creature which abides that tiny spot between childhood and adulthood, between innocence and despair. The college student on that tiny planet, by a flick of chance, is male: not that we want to be sexist, but this is what the evidence showed. Still bearing the marks of youth on his face – the occasional pimple or flimsy beard, he looks with eyes half-closed simulating extreme intellectual effort. But he is only wondering where all his socks disappear after putting them in the washing machine.

“What is sexism?” the little prince would ask staring with his blue eyes at the student. “It is the belief that one gender is inferior to, less valuable or less competent than the other,” would declare the student haughtily as if he had found the answer to life, the universe and everything else. “Where do your socks disappear after you put them in the washing machine?” would change the subject the little prince. “Your question is childish. I deal only with matters of consequence,” would shout the student blushing. The conversation would seize and the little prince would continue his journey.

“College students are altogether extraordinary,” he would say to himself. “They are neither children nor they are like grown-ups. They are trapped in that niche between who they want to be and who they really are.” They are not sad creatures though. The beauty of not-knowing makes it possible to see more than the eyes are capable of.

xmas moody

a memory – sad, happy, shameful – is what counts. a moment of pure perfection, deprived of additional meanings. clear cut. this is the present i want this xmas. an honest experience, a truthful one. this will be my miracle. fuck ribbons, good food, lights and cliché tunes.

alcohol & cigarettes

still the warm feeling of a substance feels more real than life. why? i still fall in love. i still laugh. i still feel down. i still enjoy the warmth of summer when i smell the pages of an old book. tar smoke and ethanol fill my entire being instead.

slosh

there's nothing worse than slosh and rain after a day of snowing. the slow, painful and liquid ruining of perfection. the silence is gone; drop by drop like nails in a coffin. lie your way through reality, consume art.