The Dreamer

A dream in a waking life; a taste of snow and joyous pain.
She broke through the door so she could hear me;
have not let a soul come near me.
But the wind blew a different way;
and from seas of blue and clouds of grey,
she vowed to forever accept me.
Have not let a soul come to know me.
The world showed new color:
every face, every flower,
comes smiling with eyes gleaming at me.
Have not let my soul come to be.
A self re-alignment to breathe a new life and
forget the sour weeps of my sorrow;
how I hope that there won't be tomorrow.
As the mind starts to see
the wounded truth, reality;
a broken-winged bird never flies free.
Will never let my soul accept me.


Date: Nov 30, 2012 
Where: Home


Penguins, Antartica

Don't be a Sissyphussy

They say that you can go as far as your the eyes can see, but there’s more.
You can go as far as your thoughts can think.
And on that day, you cut out the thread that has sewn your eyes shut
and realize that you’ve been a slave in a room full of strangers.
Your feet wrapped in burning cloth and skin, forced to walk an endless plank.
Buckled long sleeves like chains holding you down,
screaming “you cannot celebrate a life that is not yours!”
but it’s the only thing you can really own.
Been stuck in this web for so long the spider’s teeth starts to tickle.
But if you ask yourself, “why are you here?”
don’t dare comeback with an, “I don’t know.”
For over a year I’ve been living with a collar around my neck that feels like a wrestler’s grip,
and the greatest day of my life was reading a book in a train crowded with eyes, shoulders and limbs.
And if you asked me then the same question.
I’d say, that “I understand...”
“I understand that we must be conscious of ourselves, and of other people. That life is too beautiful to spend with our
minds tucked away in the corners of a cellar, being infested by rodents,
instead of being shared like a breeze of a mountain, so gentle it could reach your soul.
If a poem that takes over a year to write, is what it takes
for other people to realize how lucky they are to live,
and how unlucky they are to simply exist.
Then this is my biggest achievement.
And I’d finally unbuckle the chains on my wrist,
free myself of the collar around my neck,
raise my arms high and rejoice.

You are free, if you put your mind to it.


Date: Oct 7 (5.30am)
Where: room/bathroom



Let me know how you’re feeling: every place, every person, every moment must be unique, and I know it doesn’t give your personhood justice, but I like to think that I know you (the important parts at least, of what makes you), and if there’s anything ----e doesn’t lack, it’s the passion for life and reflection. You told me before that you want to share with others (let it be the world!), that life is beautiful, and that each of us has the will and power to choose our road to happiness, and it matters little how we get there, how we struggle; if by foot, by motorbike, by hitch-hike, by truck, the hell with the road!- by yacht, by plane, by rocket, we can eventually get there. I’ve come to believe that the mind is not part of our ordinary hominal relation with time. What I mean is that although our bones will brittle, hair ashen, and skin wrinkle, the mind can jump from one “age” to another, it can travel to the deepest corners of our fantasies, to the farthest galaxies of our imagination. And I trust that whenever you reflect about your existence, labored by your experiences, that who you are must have changed. You mind must have explored just as much ground as your feet, and I don’t want to miss out any of it. Share any random footnote, no need for any chronological order, I hate order, am born in chaos, share even the tiniest scribbles along the margins. I’m better, still struggling with my own illness but I’m getting close to acceptance. I guess, in a way, we’re both standing at opposite sides of a balancing beam: I explore intangible worlds like the past, family history, my troubled mind, you explore the world of reality outside it (and within of course). I’m Dostoevsky’s Dreamer. True. I’ve become more compassionate, which I know I’ve always been, and I suffer/ed exceptional guilt hiding it.


“I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just can't help re-living such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced. I am going to dream about you the whole night, the whole week, the whole year. I feel I know you so well that I couldn't have known you better if we'd been friends for twenty years. You won't fail me, will you? Only two minutes, and you've made me happy forever. Yes, happy. Who knows, perhaps you've reconciled me with myself, resolved all my doubts.

When I woke up it seemed to me that some snatch of a tune I had known for a long time, I had heard somewhere before but had forgotten, a melody of great sweetness, was coming back to me now. It seemed to me that it had been trying to emerge from my soul all my life, and only now-

If and when you fall in love, may you be happy with her. I don't need to wish her anything, for she'll be happy with you. May your sky always be clear, may your dear smile always be bright and happy, and may you be for ever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart. Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of one's life?”

- Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights

The Lives of Others, Donnersmarck

The Lives of Others by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
Other films by Donnersmarck: The Tourist (2010)
Sublime (9.5/10)

This film is one of the greatest that’s ever made. I am surprised it hasn’t gotten the fair recognition it deserves. It uses all tools and mediums to have the film turn into an experiential art that tries to connect with every individual in an audience. The stories are intelligently told and their content was mesmerizing for any human soul. We find a connection to them and with them, as we feel that we are on the bird’s eye view of things, we can imagine that that’s how puny and insignificant our own lives is. The characters in the film were engineered into making themselves exist in their own way. How Donnersmarck did it in so limited time is beyond me.

The way the film was told, I think was very experimental as well. A good example may be the first scene, into which the audience was fooled into thinking the event that occurred was the actual present scene when in fact it is only a recollection driven by the audiotape in front of the Catpain’s class. This immediately pulled the interests of the viewers. And there are also important question tackled in each strong scene, only to make it stronger. The educational element that it gave dictated the role of the film. I very much loved the acting there as well, you get connected with the characters. I find Weisler’s personal character interesting although quite lonely as was pointed out in the film. I think he’s a great example of Albert Camus’ Mersault in The Stranger. We are only made to guess what he was thinking by judging his expressionless face. But beyond that what really is fascinating with this film is how each character has its own role to fit it, it’s existent and it has a reason for being there. And if you generalize the characters a little bit, you see that they have their own story that they shared, and you notice this in groups. You can then objectify the characters, then you generalize even more and you see the investigation Weisler was conducting and surveying but you can almost know that he feels he has the whole script of the event on the palm of his hands.

This film is very mysterious, suspenseful, thrilling and without all doubt, touching. I forgot to mention intelligent but that could fall under the artistic side of this film. It is quite special and possible my favourite film of all time.


To the woman who slept on my bed

Here I lay,
clothed in its warmth,
familiarizing a body
with the sultry air
your skin embarked; as my
fingers guide their way
through the rumpled sheets
mapping what was your movement.
I plant my face

on the pillow to inhale
the scent of your energy:
dry sweat, tears, saliva; a narrow

toward a fragment
of your being,
as I reside to the only region
where I can possess you.

When: June 16, 2011
Where: room

bright FUTURE

Missing Pieces

Traffic (2000) by Steven Soderbergh
Other films by Steven Soderbergh: Sex, Lies, and Videotape (1989), Ocean's Eleven (2001), Contagion  (2011)

I made my own controversies and prejudice on this film internally than anyone else I can imagine. It’s a very complicating and confusing notion to explain, but this movie must have been popular in my mind. I expected much but was even more surprised to find out after watching the film that Mr. Steven Soderbergh directed it. Obviously you can tell that the film was pseudo-epically directed, the plot was general and outstanding with research. It’s hard work. But then it did lack something that I believe is important with film, and that’s the avoidance of toning the overall theme to what the public must contemporarily admit to. Still, I admire how the film managed to depict the world of drugs, the outside layer at least and how important it must be addressed. The perspectives taken and the small ironies that we find in every separated story is magnificently written and nerve wrenchingly told.


Directing: There’s a unique way of seeing this film being directed and I think that’s special. Told a whole lot and made us experience something new in such limited time. Has a feeling of low budget but to pack it all together has a near epic film is very well done.

The first bust with the coke in the truck could have been far more thrilling and exciting; like showing the perspectives of the loaders first instead of the cops. Or maybe Soderbergh wanted to deceive into thinking they’re not really cops but mobs.

The scene when Arnie visited Helena and was warning her about the wire has to belong in my favourite scenes list. That was intelligently crafted and amazingly acted. The music that time worked very well and the surprise that it brought to Helena was the same surprise given to the audience. Must also be a classic. I loved the transition and the seriousness given to it.

Helena’s prison conversation with her husband was beautifully acted and written. It must get the praise that it deserves. Simple yet captivating.

The way the scene when Claire got busted smoking meth by her highly profiled politician father was directed and edited was thrilling and very suspenseful. It felt real and convincing; one of my favourite scenes in the film. But not as good or as epic as the Food Assassination scene, it impressed me in all levels. The way it was directed and shot was magnificent; the acting was great, dialogue although forced and out of character was still good, but the way it was told and choreographed blew me away. It fooled me twice, intelligently done. Soderbergh has that power.

Plot: Grabbed a heavy weight of significance by exploring the world and war of drugs. Perspectives makes understanding and this film really tried its best taking the ones that would help experience such world and accept our own opinions after the learning. Soderbergh does well not making anything bias, but my only criticism is that some scenes were obviously toned as to another direction of emotion. Films should not force the audience their feelings.

The overdose feeling in visual and acting was well done. But the panic should have been better. It seemed like it’s “acting” instead of feeling ironically “real”. The dialogue needed work too. There should possibly be frightening silence. As if waiting for someone to have an immediate idea, any idea, what to do.  Music and audio should have been shaped here but it was practically absent of valuable use.

The magnified point of view of a politician sharing personal problems that interconnect with his daughter’s own torments was special and beautifully sad. The tension between them and the acting was overall great.

The way Soderbergh told Claire’s addiction story was very heartbreaking, it reminded me of Astrid in Janet Fitch’s White Oleander; lovely and innocent but tormented.

Characters/Acting: There are some winners and losers here. Don Cheadle had his great moments but also some lacking one, Del Toro was convincing and average. Chatherine Zeta Jones was marvellous. Topher was annoying and much to blame was the way his character was written. And I was very much impressed with Erika Christensen’s acting, she did more than well. Miguel Ferrer was impressive as well.

Score: Majority of the times it did not belong in the scene but there were moments it did more than I expect


lost cause

I watch the blue sea before me, meet with the clouds and the breath of the sun,
And I can only imagine how it must feel
to have your smile here with me;
humming songs and gently plucking
the tightened strings of my heart.



by Anthony Charlton

Territories || Gregory Djanikian

They thought the trouble was over,
they thought they had talked it all out,
it was a mistake, she’d said, this infatuation
for someone else which had turned suddenly
too serious, she could see that now.

But they thought there was nothing left of it,
their nerves had been rubbed so raw
through bouts of anger, shame, even love,
so many words had come and gone between them
that they couldn’t easily remember
what they’d said, what they’d imagined.

But it didn’t matter now,
they thought they had gotten over
something difficult, something which had felt
immovable, the long unbearable ache
which had become too much a habit,
and they were celebrating in their way,
having dinner at a new expensive place
where they had no history of being together,
where they expected nothing.

They were sipping wine, a deep rich red,
the waiter was hovering over them like a generous uncle
and they were selecting everything he had suggested—
how good to be in his hands for awhile!

Soon it was happening, the old ardor
was coming back, they were beginning to flirt
with one another, the way she said baby,
the way his shoulder was brushing hers,
the way they were allowing themselves to think
for the first time in a long time
of the good sex they might later have,
the after-talk which would be easy and low.

And maybe he hadn’t meant what he was about to say,
maybe when she remarked how she loved the leek soup
it was the wine in him, his jauntiness,
that made him ask what else she loved,
jokingly at first, whether she loved
the stuffed mushrooms on his plate, the braised beef,
or maybe she loved what others were having,
this one in the dark suit, or that one
with the coyly unbuttoned collar, or maybe
she loved the whole damn menu in fact,
he couldn’t help himself, the words came
pouring forth, spilling all over the table.

And it was not until late at night
when she’d finally gone to her room
and closed herself off from him in sleep
that he stopped talking and remembered only half
of what he’d said because he’d said too much,
created too much damage, crossed some boundary
he had avoided most of his life.
Maybe it was desert, maybe tundra, or the white
insinuating madness of the polar ice cap,
but wherever he was was strange and dangerous,
and somehow dazzling for all that,
and only in the morning would he know for better or  worse
in which direction each of them would be walking it,
though never had he felt, as he had tonight,
so permissive with himself, so luxuriously
tactless, having said again and again
the words he thought he could never bear
to use, so suddenly commonplace,
so readily available to him now.


this feels real and pefect at this moment and the last.


Man and Woman Contemplating the Moon || Caspar David Friedrich

Man and Woman Contemplating the Moon, Caspar David Friedrich (1774 - 1840)


I want this moment. Back then people did not contemplate their lives in relation with others. What they saw beyond their eyes, what they felt beyond their emotions were eccentric and egotistic to their own nature and experiences. Their memories try to relate with their soul as much as possible and I can't even imagine how passionately peaceful or lonely or gruesome it must feel. In our days now, we become knowledgeable of other potential experiences from other people, from foreign places, from various possibilities and we try with the best of our imagination to put ourselves in such situations and we eventually feel some kind of unknown goodness inside; as if we can imagine how it must feel. I'm not sure if that's a good thing, maybe it's relative to the subject involved. But I want this moment.

droplets of rain, wetness of wind

Ellie Goulding - Sweet Disposition


La Vie en Rose (2007) by Olivier Dahan
Other films by Olivier Dahan: Deja Mort (1998), Ghost River (2002), My Own Love Song (2010)
I believe I discovered this film through a youtube video. A group of well talented actors were asked the same question: “Who did the greatest acting performance in the past decade. Marion Cotillard’s performance here was breathtaking and clearly beautiful. You can’t help but understand and fall in love with her character. I was impressed with how a unique yet ordinary plot was managed to be told in such a point of view that makes you understand a person’s life in anyway.


Directing: The cinematography was observant and interesting. It gives you a small feel of the atmosphere and the environment of that country at that time. The cuts though were a little too forced and awkward in timing and transition.

I think the singing in the shower scene was such a playful and classical scene in the film. Reminds me of White Oleander, such a sweet scene. The recording scene as well did a uniquely exciting feel to it. And the way the Edith at five was introduced to her new environment.

The atmospheric production of the street performance revealed the father and daughter’s phenomenological view on each other. I think it was a special experience for both of them, both sharing desperateness, companionship, shame, we a good thing shared for them.

The begging of one last song scene was intense and inspiring. The cinematography during the long shot was amazingly choreographed, uniquely shot and incredibly acted.

Plot: Shows a very well-detailed drama of one’s life, Edith Piaf: Her progression towards taking care of her relationships with both separated parents, showing sincere love to both, making a living with her sweet angelic voice for the public, gathering fame and life. Who is she?

Each significant scene/part shares a deep emotion for the viewer in heavy levels. One showing a father’s reaction after seeing her daughter slapped in the face in front of him by her boss, being defenceless to her salvation. That shows a feeling of loss, weakness and defeat in such an industry centred world. The long shot for the meeting was interesting and exciting, shows the thrill of life and how every event can mirror a special moment inside of you in which you can still feel not only apart from your experience and memory but as both. The date scene was interesting and a classical scene as well. Interesting

Characters/Acting: Great acting by the whole class and the dialogue was very interesting and creative. But Marion Cotillard obviously stole the whole film by attaching a true character with her mannerisms and voice in playing Edith Piaf. Her look is so appealing it makes you almost fall in love with her. A new Marilyn Monroe of our time in my opinion.—I’m adding her performance during her audition as something to fall in love to—FAVE list.

Score: The score and the audio were magnifico and entertaining. Truly added a great personality to the film.