Grey Room project

"Grey Room" is a song by Damien Rice in his second studio album "9".
This Slideshow is a tribute to the misunderstood genius of him.I've tried to remain true to the "feel" of the song and in the process, images had to be either borrowed or ..(cough!) stolen.I'd like to think that this is what he was imaginin' when he wrote the song.Yep !!
As far as I know, "Grey Room" does not have an official video, if it does ...finger points toward my search engine.

Disclaimer : The photographs do not belong to me,the images were selected online and the ones without legal snags made it to the slideshow but then just to be sure, the owners still hold all rights (please don't sue me). Thank you for watching.

rain

raindrops spill again,
spaces between my fingers
they're wide like yours too

what dreams may come...

My friend says sometimes I laugh in my sleep....maybe it's because I don't laugh all that much when I'm awake anymore.

Part

We talked about you again last-night, of how things were, how things are and how things could have been....should have been and I realized how much we miss you still...and how easy it is to imagine that this never happened, that this is just one of those bad dreams.....that I'll wake up any second now and you'll call on the phone laughing and ask me to save you a seat at the hub. In a better world things would have been like that....we'd wake up and you'd call.

"shine on Part"

everythings eventual

Things end....lives,journeys,stories,love,even hate.....and when something ends,indifference takes its place and soon it no longer matters what WAS because it will never BE again,because once gone is too long gone because even an end ends.Everything dies....Everything fades..........
so when everything is eventual,what difference does it make?

?

Dear God,
Do I piss you off ?

The clown

Once upon a time,there lived a clown who,on one certain but ordinary occasion,fell off the carnival elephant and forgot who he was.He wandered around for many years,travelling from one town to the other,trying to find the answer,never giving up or losing hope until one day he was so tired and broken-hearted that he cried and cried till his tears formed a pool and in that pool of tears he saw his own reflection....and he smiled for the first time in his life.

Blinded by rainbows

We're all blind, some a little more than the others. We choose to see what we want to see and even then we look at what we see the way we want to....and don't we all like to see the world thru rose colored glasses? These are fucked times, when a man's identity is his Gucci shoes and Hugo Boss suit, when love is a 60 carat clear-cut diamond set on a platinium ring and happiness, a brand new Mercedes Benz. These are times when blindness isn't a handicap but a convinient epidemic, infact it could very well be the next step in human evolution. So if a lone blind man is standing in the rain, waiting for help and you happen to be snug in a warm chauffeured vechile idling away in the traffic and you feel sorry for him but move on anyway, don't feel guilty, instead pat your back,raise a toast to his good health and those Jimmy Choo boots you've been dying for...you know you've evolved.

IV

I wanna EAT your tears.

parallel Lives : continuance

Its 3 : 00 am
He lights a cigarette
He stares at the wall


Its 3 : 00 am
She lights a cigarette
She stares at the wall


Its 3 : 00 am
Another night ends


Its 3 : 00 am
Another day begins

curtains

Dear Reader,
I think I'm done with writing. I apologize, I really do. I promised you long miles and pleasant trips but here I am already at the end, distraught, tired, unable to continue. What started out as therapy has turned into a farce, a sideshow.I have fabricated reality, entwined it with the fibers of my own discord and knitted a noose, by which I now hang myself, metaphorically speaking of-course. I wrote because I felt unheard, alone ,because I felt I was dissipating atom by atom, evaporating like spit on a heated skillet,so insignificantly.Back then I realized I had raised this great barrier around myself and isolated myself from everyone/everything..so I wrote.. to remind everyone, including myself, that I still exist...or atleast that was the intent.
To scribble a few big words on a piece of paper is easy, to speak your mind can be planned, fixed,...but your heart says different, doesn't it? The heart's language is complicated, difficult to understand, it speaks in beats and aches, races and breaks, re-starts and rebounds, love and hate, doubt and faith....but it speaks the truth and this is what I cannot convey.I apologize because I now believe that I've lied to you, tricked you. Perhaps I did it unknowingly, convinced myself that I was writing with heart's blood or maybe I was aware, but thats not the point.What I wrote wasn't me, I wrote to please, the very first post to these last words.I wrote for you and you alone, every word, every line, every syllable, every rhyme was designed for you..misdirection and like a second rate magician, with one hand, I flourished colorful scarves in the air while the other pulled out plastic roses from my sleeve.

Shit, I don't know !!
....or maybe I wasn't lyin at all, maybe everythin I said I meant.Sometimes even I am a stranger to myself. Time changes things (does it really?),....only change is constant. So maybe I'm changin, finally evolving...or perhaps even rottin away. Who can say? I fear I'm "turning into a phony." Hurt inspired me, darkness fascinated me and boredom urged me but it was your attention that addicted me...so I wrote and I wrote for you.The point is...I've spoken too much and said too less.Who am I kiddin? I think I faked it all...and yet I don't know...I don't know!!

Lo, here we are, my dear companion...my muse. A familiar setting, where the paths we've paved intersect and part. Do we go our own ways here or do we go on hand in hand....until another cross-road? I wish I could believe in fate, that there is a higher power somewhere up there, who pens down the scripts of our lives, who is perhaps as sappy as we are and maybe this supreme being is laughing his/her ass off right now...because he/she sees the irony in the situations we believe we created. So, Dear Reader...maybe we shouldn't say good-bye.....not just yet....lets kid ourselves and imagine we have a few laughs comin our way too.So with these words I leave you now, but I'll see you soon.....this side or the other.
Love and regards,
yours nonetheless.

Paranoir

"Fuck" Thats the first word in my head even before my eyes are open. I can't see nothin. Fear, sharp and cool,like a steel blade buries itself deep into my guts and twisting it into a knot. Blackness,drapes over me, smothering,suffocating me...am I dead? No I can't be, I'm still breathing, ain't I?! Where am I? I try to remember, I shut my eyes tight and try again,my mind is blank ...pitch black,i'm wrapped in something that feels like a fuckin shroud. I lie still..thats all I can do right now..my bodys stiff,Theres an ache rooted deep in my left, hmmmm...a few broken ribs, four maybe..I wouldn't bet on it but the odds are good.Madame Luck doesn't do me favors The bitch hates me. My heads is throbbin..the kind that makes even the toughest bastards whimper. Shit, I’ve seen Vets piss their fuckin pants. I ain't tough..not like the old days..I'm pushing 50 but right now I feel like the wrong end of 70. I'm a corpse thats been in the cold-farm far too long, pale and all shriveled up like a fuckin raisin. I've seen too many bodies in my time, more than any sane man ought to but Heck!! It's better to SEE a dead body than to be one...ain't it? Somewhere at back of my head, I can feel a vein throbbing, loud and rythmic tickin' like it's a goddamned clock, a big one or mebbe one of those crazy jungle drums in the Phantom comics. I try to focus on it and realize my eyes are still shut tight. I try to open them but they feel stuck,heavy and puffy.(shhhit)....I remember. Goddammnedchickenshit Sloan boys,motherfuckin sonsawhores, jumped me and beat me shitless and left me to die at the fuckin tar-pits, BIG FUCKIN MISTAKE, they should have made sure. Now, I'm gonna havta show them how...It ain't necessary but I'm gonna do it anyhow...I'm gonna send out a message, a fuckin bloody one!! But first.. I need to get outta this shit hole. Slowly I open my busted peepers as much as I can, blurry shifty images. I rub them, tryin to clear my vision.. and I see blood, so much blood everywhere....SHIT ..BLOOD??.. blood blinking all over the walls. I panic, bolt up straight, somethin in my back slips and pops, a slug of brilliant white-hot pain sears its way through my head and lodges just behind my eyeballs. MOTHERFU.....BLINKING?? blinking blood?? Pain...ahh sweet pain, I relish it,I savor it, I fuck it. Pain is good sometimes...it helps me focus....it also means I'm still alive.Pain is good. Shit..retardedfuckinidiot, think first think fast !! I'm gettin jumpy...a goddamned ametuer , the "blinking" blood is light from the motel's neon sign outside, "VACANCY" it yells silently and dangerously,like a warning.
Better stupid than dead, I try a grin at the window and my mouth feels…..crooked??!!....Hmm...atleast the pills have been doing their part....a little too well sometimes, I can barely recall last night, not that there's much to remember, things have been pretty quiet these past few nights..too quiet almost. I don't like it, not a scratched penny's worth...it ain't a good thing, this quiet, not in the present predicament I’m neck-deep and a foot in (again).25 years in the business has taught me to trust my instincts, it ain't much but it ain't nuthin either. Fuckin details..Details....even the ones that seem insignificant can be the difference between life and death....atleast in my line of work...and hell...I ain't ready to die...not yet. I look at my watch, it reads 2:37 am, but I ain't sure, Goddamned watch is as reliable as a 5 dollar hooker. My mind begins to catch up slowly, bits and pieces of information....like a tattered old diary.I remember.I place my hands on my face, its covered in goo... sticky goo and cloth, lots of it. FUCK..it's true then ?!! Bandages all over my head,like I'm some goddamned egyptian mummy, a fuckin' King Tut. I try to smile ...it hurts...my lips feel torn,so it looks like.. I tried to bite off more than what I could chew? Little Nicky would have laughed at this but Little Nicky is locked inside the trunk of his '68 Buick with a chest full of holes, a head full of lead and a one way ticket to La-la Land, I put him there. Little Nicky doesn't know shit. The little fuck tried to cross me, nobody crosses me…..nah..not ever...especially my friends, the Sloan twins were gonna learn that soon. Little Nicky could have told them,if he weren't as dead that is...it's too bad he decided to sell out,the kid would have gone places, shoulda stuck wit me.I miss the little shit right now, he was a-dime-a-hoot...well a friggin dumb hoot, as he turned out to be. Mebbe I should have heard him out first...too late now,in any case, I have a feelin I'll be seein him real soon. Goddamned bitches, if I told him once I told him a thousand times. Rule number 1 : Don't trust the dames, fuck 'em leave 'em. Rule number 2 : Don't fuck up rule number 1,simple,effective.Thats how I roll,I mebbe busted bad but I'm still breathin,ain't I? Nicky didn't listen and look where that got him..dead as a coffin nail, all because he couldn't keep his little cock inside his pants...a goddamned broad....for chrissake ??!!Whatever happened to loyalty ?? To honor ?? all that fancy SHIT!! This is what it's come down to. The entire generation has gone to hell, goddamned lives fabricated in a petri dish or by cheap thrills and busted rubber in the godforsaken back alleys and the dilapidated buildings.Life is in ruins,it’s a fuckin disease now! Ironic. The Yellow coats have taken over, this city has turned into a sore,a sore festering with maggots and rottin pus and it's only a matter of time before the infection spreads. I gotta get out. This is a lost cause, mebbe the kid was right all along....Mebbe I was already too late.....fuck...I gotta get out before I lose my head....literally.

The blood light breaks off the crystal bottle beside me and paints a constellation on the dirty chipped wall.It's almost beautiful. Jana Berkova, Sassy Jana, she with her diamond studded dildos and her two-bit Russian accent, the only broad I could ever consider takin to bed,the only dame who could give me a hard-on. Her fetish for shiny things got to her eventually...damned yellow coats made sure of that...but DAMN she was all woman, golden wispy hair, a rack that sent every law of physics to hell, a peach of an ass and legs that wouldn't quit!! Goddamn ! A man could spend an entire lifetime between them and still want more. Sassy Jana...they sure don't make 'em like they used to. The wall is full of faces, some known and others I can't remember. I see my old man there, he looks sad,old...lonely but he's been like that eversince mom took off with his brother, leavin me with him. He tried to drown himself in bottle after bottle of brown-paper booze, emptying one after the other as if he expected to find the back-stabbin bitch at the bottom of it. Fuck! I don't like thinkin about this.Tears blur my sight....FUCK HER and FUCK HIM too, they were weak, both of them..fuckin prisoners of their own pathetic lives. I grab the bottle, still staring into my dad's dead eyes and take a generous swig ,the smooth liquid burns it's way down my parched throat like liquid gold and begins to undo my knotted guts.Yea..this feels good....whisky...my favourite poison...I shouldn't be drinkin, I know, but there is a lotta things I shouldn't be doin or done.Fuck that !!I take another swig at it and empty the bottle...ahh, breakfast's done. I get outta the bed and light a half smoked cigar, it tastes like shit...but it'll have to do...what is it that people say about beggars and choosers? Hmmph ! Sonsabitches will say anythin these days. Father Luca was like that, always pokin his Italian knob into my business, that is when he wasn't suckin on a 13 year old cock anyway, always a fuckin preacher, that hypocritical facist pig. How many little boys did he kill? That pedophile cocksucker! I bet hes burnin in hell.
My eyes feel heavy,My mind's a mess and my chest hurts like a bitch. I'm tired. Mebbe I should sleep a bit....yea, sleep for another hour...or three...........
But NO, hold on, wait..NO, I gotta get outta here. Those yellow fucks are good trackers, cocksuckin half-breeds could sniff out almost anythin. And besides somethin ain't right here...I've felt that since I woke up.Its like a splinter stuck in my brain...I gotta dig it out, I gotta think...think think remember, focus you fuckin sonofabitch..think...THINK. The clock ticking inside my head gets louder and louder...and now it's only the drums..DRUMS...louder..LOUDER I need to clear my head...I shake it.... a little more than I mean to...sharp white light like shards of broken glass fills my head..shitfuck..I can't take it anymore, I yell..or atleast I think I did. My head explodes like an over-ripe melon...and suddenly it gets brighter, I'm twelve,we're on a boat...me and dad, we're fishin at the old cove, and now I've got a bite and i'm fighting to reel it in, "IT'S A WHOPPER" yells dad and laughs crazily. A chill runs down my spine.I struggle with the catch ....I'm nervous..the boat swerves violently…it's gonna topple.No,Help me! I'm afraid, scared shit-less. Dad's disappeared.It's just me and the fuckin fish. I wanna let it go but I can't ,my hands ain't respondin, instead I start to reel it in...inch by inch, I bring it in..I see somethin dark break the surface, sea-weed?? No! Hair ? Fuckin hair?? At the end of the line is little Nicky's head,black hair,bald in some places ,half his nose is missin, his sockets are empty because his eyes are gone completely "Damn the trouts, THEY'LL EAT ANYTHINNNnnn" his screech is cut short by a series of phlegmy cough, thick muddy water and some bits and pieces that look like teeth exit his dead purple lips!! And suddenly my throat is on fire, My feet turn into putty and I crash back into the bed.The stench of drying blood and pus fills my nostrils and i gag on my own vomit. I clamber out of bed and up-chuck my last meal on the floor...I choke, darkness is comin again,fast...too fast, I fight for breath. I hear foot-steps approachin outside, one...two pairs...or three.It's begun...fuck...I knew this was comin but not right NOW..no ! Hold on!! Somethin ain't right !! This feels bad...Somethin' ain't.....and then it hits me, a sucker punch, a low blow.. fUCK,FUCK,SHIT,FUCKINSHIT, the bottle, Oh no! It's the bottle, the whisky, where did it come from? I try to remember but it's pointless, I know that already. I've fucked up. Fucked up bad. The bottle was empty…is empty. The room starts spinning....faster and FASTER out of control. The footsteps are right outside the door and from the corner of my eye, I see the shadows. My piece...my Gun, where the fuck is it? I grope my back already knowin better. It ain't there....I hear the rusty grate of the door knob turning....turnin..turn...the door creaks as it opens slowly. Dim yellow light, the color of piss, seeps into the room.....footsteps... dragging feet. I see the shadows enter..I count them..one...two...three..."Fuck".....

15 portraits of despair : portrait 14

She had waited until her husband and children were far away, and had driven into the snowy woods, and ended it. Just let it all go.
She had wanted the pain to stop. The heart-hurt. She slept her way into death, only waking when the Highway Patrol found her body.
She was cold, rigid, frozen, when they found her.
Someone like that, said the patrolwoman. You'd think she'd have everything to live for.

She tried to speak, to tell them that that was what made the pain unbearable but, like someone caught in a bad dream, she could not make herself heard. She screamed, and no sound came out. She watched as they took her body away.

She sat by the side of the road, in the snow, all bodiless and afraid, waiting for the happiness to start.

Extract taken from -
The Sandman : Endless Nights

15 portraits of despair : portrait 3

She decides to make a list of the things that make her happy.
She writes 'plum-blossom' at the top of a piece of paper.

Then she stares at the paper, unable to think of anything else.

Eventually it begins to get dark


Extract taken from -
The Sandman : Endless Nights

Theres a storm coming...

The end or the beginnin of an end? Does it matter?? Really? I'd rather not give a fuck either-way..cuz either-way we're fucked anyway. As it turns out,there's been a lot of predictions sayin(or have said)come 2012, WE(the entire human civilization)are gonna go do the "Great gig in the Sky" or... to put it rather bluntly,We're Done! And since this feels way more "optimistic"...I think i'm gonna side up with them Mayans.Its the END of the world..and truth be told,I'm lookin forward to it.
If you've been followin this blog from the very start,I musta mentioned it a couple of times,that I'm waitin, for what ..I have no clue....but the feelin never goes away,this feelin that something's comin just gets stronger and more "urgent" everyday.Like a trapped rat,it's been gnawing my insides tryina rip its way out.It's almost like everything in my life has been leadin me to this and wotever it is,it's almost here.

And I, I just stand here waiting.....unable to move...as clichéd as a deer caught in head-light beams...and I wait..anticipating, fucked and scared shitless...but I wait.I'm pretty sure I ain't the only one who feels this....so if they say the world's gonna end...well... Hallelujah, maybe this is it,right? I could't care less,fact is.. I feel better when i think about it.
I'm not suicidal or mental (altho many have expressed their doubts), no,don't confuse it with that,this is just sumthin I have to look forward to cuz nuthin-else is worth the wait.I think the pointlessness of "everything", the very concept of "being" has finally got to me,this malady of emotions,this vicious loop of un-understandability...this fakery,FUCKERY ..well,sumone or sumthins gotta put an end to it.Sometimes,I think I've lost the will to survive,ya know,the ability to believe in a higher power,and I've most definitely lost my faith in humanity.I understand now that we are nuthin but a freak accident,a coincidence of colossal dimensions, no doubt about that.There ain't no-one lookin out for us,how can there be...when we don't even look out for each other? when we can't see past our own miserable selves?? We've failed to realize that the only "God" we could ever depend upon was the person standin next to us....and look at us now,look what we've done...we killed our brothers,raped our sisters and burned our parents.We wallow in hate and live in constant fear....and based on what? A few imaginary lines scribbled on a map,the color of skin,accents,customs,the amount of money we have? I played my part in this mayhem and it shames me...I've always known that.All accusations of hypocrisy...I accept.
Sure we're "Human" but we ain't "being" because "to be" is "to live" and we sure as shit ain't "living". We died a long time ago....we killed ourselves. What remains of us now is a hollow shell, a vague dream,we're breathin the dying breaths.
It ain't gonna be long...theres a storm comin.
I fucked up, you fucked up,we fucked up
....didn't we?

"Nevermore"

Upon the breast of crimson heaven,
as daylight be slowly forsaken.
Where only night dare threaten,
and light makes to hasten,
'fore the stars awaken.
'tween gray clouds lined with gold,
as Nyx's velvet robe unfold,
In songs and ballads old,
Of enchanted stories told
never flew a creature,darker or bold.
Took she,fancy of my sight,
(Oh ,stately messenger of plight !)
Soared down in rosy light.
Her plumes black as midnight
whispering tales of dark delight
In a whim she chose to alight,
Upon my broken door
Perched she 'ere for a score.
How long,I warrant be sure
still as a statue,a lifetime or more.
And as did my mind restore,
a certain "Raven" of Sir.Allen's lore,
whispered I to her "Lenore",
"Would thou be my Lenore?"
"From my dreams, did thou soar?"
Pearly black eyes she wore,
fiery gaze burned into my spirit's core.
Stumbled I, towards the burdened door.
"Pray, tell us then,why doth my heart feel sore?"
Sputtered I,
"Art thou, the Devil's Spore?"
Passions triggered,Silence shattered,
Feathers quivered,wings fluttered,
Talons clattered,eyes glowered,
(twin lamps flickered)
for an instant she teetered,
took to wing as I faltered,
flew o'er me as I muttered,
flew o'er me as I shuddered,
flew o'er me till i saw her no more.
And as darkness began to pour,
I stood alone,broken and rancor,
Thoughts fouled by the taste of gore
sour memories of my own "Lenore".
Questions echoed "What if and wherefore?"
And the winds....nay,
the winds of change sighed
"NEVERMORE".....

parallel lives : the long hard goodbye

Do I have to say the words?

parallel lives : here be dragons

Because you linger at the edge of Eternity,
I at the other end of Sanity.
Where Parallel lives cross
and X marks the spot,
always beyond my horizon,
always out of touch.

parallel lives : white noise

Will she call?
What if she does?
Will I let words get in the way?
If I do,what would she hear?
Would she hear, the serenity of a silent prayer
or be deafened by the cacophony of emptiness?
And what if I hold my peace?
Would silence speak for me?
Will she hear the skipped beats of my heart
or the crash and tinkle of shattered promises?
What will she hear?
Will she call?

The disorder diaries : trip around the sun

                       I started this about a year ago...well almost.Surprising isn't it ,how time goes by? Time...the worthy adversary,as old as fuck and as wise as the universe itself, and perhaps, the closest we'll ever come to "God".Time, the only thing the world has to offer and the only thing we cannot afford. Time, the bastard child of infinity, always ticking  and tocking as if counting (down?) to some cataclysmic oblivion  or  divine beginning or..... maybe ....well..nothing at all, who knows? Only time can tell ! Time,the greatest of levelers because sooner or later it catches up with you...doesn't it?
                                                    So where was I,before i started ranting about time? Right ! A (almost)year ago,I typed in my first entry.I hated it instantly. I read it and re-read it a million times.I couldn't comprehend, the words were in my head but when i put them down to effect,it seemed very ...well...unaffected.It was as if, what mirrored in my words was not me but a person trying to be me...and rather unsuccessfully, if i may add.I gave up trying to convince myself,hit Delete and put my literal aspirations aside.A few thoughts and several days later I realized that there was this corny part in me,the one that wanted to write poems,stories and passages about love,drugs,growing-up pains,mid-life crisis,heart-breaks,hopes and dreams, shit like that (mostly heart-breaks at that point of time,because I was going through a bad break-up) and to deny this corniness in me was to deny myself the satisfaction of well....whatever it is that I'm doing here.So i said "fuck it" and stepped right back into the ring.Okay,granted that I didn't ...you know...make like Will Shakespeare or Stevie King or J.D.frikkin Salinger or even anybody whose work has ever been published,it felt good. I got some good reaction...and although most of the people who read me are my buddies (so i guess it doesn't really count).....but like i said "fuck it", they (you) are the people i write for/to and if they're happy, so am I.Amen.
                                 And lo, here we are again Dear Reader.A year has come to pass (almost).I hope time has been kind to you as you have been to it.And as we come full circle and back to square one,I thank you for humoring me and above all,I thank you for your precious time. It's been real!!!
                                            So let the snare drums roll once again, dust your top hat and your three piece suit, twirl your baton and wave your banner. Welcome back to the parade.
                               Walk with me, Dear Reader,We have miles to go.

parallel lives : star crossed

"I like being miserable, maybe thats why I love you" ~ she

Your misery

So we drifted in perfect reverie,
living lies never meant to be.
Washed ashore by cruel epiphany,
I was misery
and you were company.

There in the kingdom of the blasphemes,
We built a castle from broken dreams
and here we reigned supreme.
I was king
and you were my queen,
of emptiness where our hearts should have been.

And we raised a toast to our house of cards
drank blood and wine of grapes of wrath.
Heady,we watched our lives fall apart,
wings denied even before a start.
Drunk on hate
so did we part.

So here again in my reverie,
along the jagged shores of memory,
time and tide broken by an epiphany,
I wear the crown of infamy.
For I am your misery
and you remain company.