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back from riga i brought two kilos of chocolates, two habits: that of drinking proper tea and solve crosswords, ear piercings and infallible self-assurance.
believe it or not, it’s done.
there’s this book, “Dead Souls”, subtitled by its author as ‘poem’ - and it’s a lengthy, thick russian novel about corrupt upper society at the time. nothing to suggest poetry whatsoever. but when you read it, it kind of makes sense.
so i hope me subtitling this as ‘a poem’ too… kind of makes sense.
it’s hard being healthy
once i’m going to wake up in the morning
genuinely wake up in the morning
oh how i wait for that morning to come
“Mammonism envelops the world. A money game where money makes money. Having lost $10,000,000 with one click, I was driven from my position as a money-changer.
Wandering the city in the depths of failure, a lone girl struck up a conversation with me. Asking to be bought for 30 Zimbabwe dollars and being shot down of my lack of thereof, she then asked for ’20,000,000 yen’. Isn’t that rate a bit off? It’s a sudden price hike.
As I corrected her, a man said from behind me, ‘no, the girl’s right’. A gentleman who described himself as looking like Hamasho appeared. ‘I’ll show you the real money game’, he said, and led me to where people were traded.
The Human Trade Centre.
‘At the current rate, one Anglo-Saxon trades for 107 of the Yamato race,’ said a fund manager.
‘Absurd! All men are equal!?’, Nozomu remarked indignantly.
‘Japanese are relatively expensive. There are far cheaper races.’
Told ‘Equality is nothing but naiveté. Get to work.’, he was forced into a seat. One click sold a million men. He couldn’t! But shown the rate curve, he soon reflexively clicked. With the click of the mouse came a roaring jet sound.
‘I’ve lost again. With one click, I’ve lost ten million men.’ That mouse was the red button.”
зима была долгой, но все обошлось.
The Cinematic Orchestra - Evolution
’They’re like a form of meditation. Sometimes, when I’m not feeling well, I read books but I don’t really absorb them. When that happens, it makes me think about what could be getting in the way. There are also books that I can absorb even when I’m feeling down. Sometimes I wonder why. It could be like mental conditioning. I think it’s all about the stimulation your brain receives when you turn the pages. The feeling of flipping them over, one by one.’
6 Simple Rituals (via obsessivecompulsive)
Six simple rituals for more winning:
1. Drink a glass of water when you wake up. Your body loses water while you sleep, so you’re naturally dehydrated in the morning. A glass of water when you wake helps start your day fresh.
2. Define your top 3. Every morning ask yourself, “What are the top three most important tasks that I will complete today?” Prioritizes your day accordingly and don’t sleep until the Top 3 are complete.
3. The 50/10 Rule. Solo-task and do more faster by working in 50/10 increments. Use a timer to work for 50 minutes on only one important task with 10 minute breaks in between. Spend your 10 minutes getting away from your desk, going outside, calling friends, meditating, or grabbing a glass of water.
4. Move and sweat daily. Regular movement keeps us healthy and alert. It boosts energy and mood, and relieves stress.
5. Express gratitude. Gratitude fosters happiness. Each morning, think of at least five things you’re thankful for. In times of stress, pause and reflect on these things.
6. Reflect daily. Bring closure to your day through 10 minutes of reflection. Asks yourself, “What went well?” and “What needs improvement?”
i’m having one of those moments when the universe is bare and i see it
and i’m well-connected, i love it, love it
my mouth is gaping hungry for the outpour of understanding
the ties tie up and the mechanisms click in perfect unison
the clogs rust off and dissolve into the flow of thoughtforms
and you’re so full of self-assurance and for once,
knowledge is bliss
nothing is wasted, nothing’s for nothing, no coincidences
all you loved and lived is true and forever
the hardest thing sometimes is to get yourself to believe
that what you breathe in and out actually exists
and what captivates your mind with braids of ancient flowers
is no further than at arm’s length
fixed like a carrot on a stick that you choose to ignore
for many a reason, but you come back
you come back eventually, you always come back
to the shadow-plastered rooms of dust and heavy liquor scented
darkness slowly spilling over the top sweet and nurturing
you know those whirls on tapestry better than the palm of your hand
because your hand wrinkles and grows and scars and fails
but the vixen cries in your head forever