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Welcome in the Domus of ulixeshttp://domus-ulixes.zaadz.com/blog 21 November Probably the last entry on this blogSince I started this blog,
I have learned what love is, how it feels to be loved in return. And in the end,
learned just really what love is and understand it.
Sadly,
I regret to inform that today, or the 20th of november.
I was betrayed so badly, that I have lost the memory of loving, and being loved in return.
And hence,
I abandon my beginnings. For it wasn't my choice to lose it. It happened completelyoutside of me.
Eventually this blog will witter, or become of a cult status. I wouldn't know.
Farewell may you all, fare well!
regards,
the author. 29 August ButGod, if you readers would only begin to comprehend how much I love her.
She give me everything. And I only gave so little in return...
Don't let anybody tell you anything else.
Especially not her. Because All I'd want, is to hold her, in my arms, for all eternity. But for now, all I need to give is time.And Patience
28 August Crawling and ChasingPain, PAIN PAIN!!!!We'll do it all i will dedicate and sacrifice my everything for just a seconds worth of how my story's ending. and i wish i could know if the directions that i take and all the choices that i make won't end up all for nothing. show me what it's for. make me understand it. i've been crawling in the dark looking for the answer. is there something more than what i've been handed? i've been crawling in the dark looking for the answer. I need your grace so when and how will i know?..................
I loved you so, Why can't anybody love me? Yesterday, I was happy. I was more happy then I had ever been. I was loved, And I could love in return. Now, I have nothing. Nothing at all. And my life feels as if it died a silent dead. If I go today, please don't think it was stupid of me to do so...
10 August Story (for the lonely)--"Learn as if you would live forever, live as if you would die tomorrow."-- Gandhi (1869 - 1948) I gazed, I gaze more often. Into blue puddles of stories, and thoughts. As if they are deeper then an ocean, yet wild on the surface, and calm on the inside. The Gaze, as if it could last longer then a day, as if it takes longer, then moments are meant to be. Like a tidlewave that doesn't stop, and as we stand into the see, where the waves break into the sands, and the waves don’t stop.
They push us forward
The gushing of water, that pushes us all the way upon the land, and beyond. Beyond the dunes, beyond the hotels, beyond the plains, through the forests. The look gazes further, tumbling my head. As I hold her. Gently, --"Hold her like a dove to set free, gaze like the days last forever, love as if you would die tomorrow."-- 08 July Once upon a time in the world of mathIn a country far far away, actually one article below.
There lived two people, a woman, and a man.
And the basic story of friendship, love and compassion could follow.
But instead,
It would evolve into something not alike of a comedy, nor of a drama.
Perhaps a horribly made expressive movie, where no sanity could be found.
And our lead characters should be considered no less then 'Insane'
As is this author to right it down. As it would be a match for The Bohemian Ideals of Truth, Beauty, Freedom and, above all, Love. And in the most ironic order of appearance might I add.
And thus I tell thee a story, a story about Freedom, and how it encountered beauty, how it would follow by love, only to be kicked of its feet and replaced even more firmly by truth.
And so the basic Story of Bohemian outlines was to follow Beginning one day, in the summer of 2007, 50 years after the Summer of love, half a century, and miles away from beautiful Paris.
In a silly little city, occupied only by the lowland Communists, and by the gentle and Kind people of the City of Nijmegen. Where two people would find eachother. One all the way from cold Russia, the other all the way from Cold Brabant. Running together, running into eachother, when running from the lords of the real numbers. As it would begin,
Chapter one,
Freedom...
24 June The Lords of the Real numbersOnce upon
a time in a country far far away, there lived, in the mighty kingdom of Radboud, a beautiful mathematician and a
strong physicist. They hadn’t met before, since their regions where far apart.
As the mathematician lived all the way up, in the high mountains of the third
floor, far away in the utmost east corner of the kingdom. Together with her
fellow companions, supplying the kingdom with a great amount of complex
literacy and magical matrices. But the physicist on the other hand, live all
the way down, in the lower valley of the west plains. At the other end of the
kingdom. Also called the Wild West, for its falling debris and metal sounds
that resonated over the planes. Here he lived sporadically, but mostly because
this was where his primary source of food could be found, beer and toasted
sandwiches. 21 June This eveningI disovered why I sometimes lack responsibility. It is because, rather often at home, I am the only one responsible... Because the rest is either to aggitated, or to methodical. Perhaps, Freedom, has something to do, with letting adults take care of themselves. So, I can be responsible. Sometimes too much. Worries and stuff, But cheers, Goodnight 19 June Een dozijn dagen dromenWant elke keer,
Bij zon, of bij regen, Als je slechts (cliché) in haar ogen kijkt, of erger, geniet van haar lach. Dan waan je je zowiezo ,iedere man, in een wereld waar Eva nog naar dit ene aanblik geschapen moet worden. Een rib is dan een klein offer. Maar om dan wakker te worden, met het griezelige besef. Dat Eva al geschapen is naar dat aanblik, en mijn Naam Adam is. En dat ze naar A'dam gaat, Om aan te horen, wat je meent. (En zelfs nog verder van huis) Ik ben gewoon nog niet wakker, ik ben in shock, letterlijk. De diagnose is gesteld: Shock. Remedie: stug blijven volhouden. en vooral ontkennen dat ik droom. MAAR IK DROOM DUS NIET! Ik ben klaarwakker, zit rechtop in mijn bed. Haal diep adem, Adam, na A'dam, weet zeker, Ademt in, en uit. Damn, Eva, heet helemaal geen Eva! Hé Anna? Ik ga ronddartelen in de wei, Tot morgen. ;) 14 June Got to stay awakeMusn't fall alseep, As I have just got to be dreaming, And if I fall asleep now, The dream will end... So she pinches my lips with hers every so often, Makeing sure, I'm not dreaming, And the dream, Won't end :) 09 June From Russia With Love(en nee ik ben geen uitgesproken Bond-fan, maar dat wist je al.)
En als je het minst verwacht, heel geniepig uit een hoekje. Slaat het toe. Alsof je in de spiegel iemand ziet, die naast jou lijkt te staan. En dan een klap krijgen van de spiegel, en aan het beeld geplakt, meegesleurd wordt naar buiten. Waar verantwoordelijkheid ver te zoeken is among people. Of ten minste tussen jou en die ander. Twijfel(d) (met een D i.pv. een T ;) ) mijn hoofd toch telkens weer... En vraagt zich elke keer af; kan dit? Of; Wordt wakker! (waartegen altijd een volmondig 'Nee' tegen wordt geantwoord) Maar ik ben wakker, En het kan :D
En he, ik bedenk me nu, ik ben Jarig vandaag :P Gek, Ik heb eigelijk niets meer te vragen. Geef me maar geen kadootjes. Want het kan wel, Vers op de plank, MerkHomo's en Verse Liefde. But where did all the homosexuals go?... 'I do not expect you to talk Mr. Bond, I expect you to Fly' *fladder* *fladder* *fladder* For Russia, With love, Frederik 04 June Merkhomo's, verse liefde en ander vormen van ErotiekWaar de echte raspuber over twijfeld, en waarover elk huisdier eigelijk na zijn dood alleen maar dromen kan. Hoe een hele generatie nix er van snapte, dat het ook anders kon. Ja ja, Er is weer verse liefde in de schappen, Vers overgevlogen uit het oostblok. Dolci en Gabanna's, Victoren en Rolfen hoedt u ow merkhomo's! En keert met gezwinde pas terug in uw eigen sporen. Het is allemaal zo klinkklaar als een klontje onzin. Het is als sex met je 3 jaar oudere buurmeisje, het is als scoren vanuit de tribune, het is als slagen voor een tentamen waarbij je kwijl precies op de juiste 'multiple-choice' vakjes viel. Het is (ware) liefde, Vers en weerbarstig. Maar snel opeten, Want anders bederft het... 29 May The future or loveIs the future predictable? I’d
deceive who I am if I said it weren’t. And thus, alike Nostradamus I look at my
own poetry, one very special as I see it now. And, though it wasn’t written
with any such intent, it was written out of thought of two people, who after
that day, would literally make up the life I live. And would simply be whatever
I needed ever. Don’t let Gollem mix you up: Uit
het oog, Uit het hart zij,
haar, zij wordt door Precious,
Precious speelt Precious
als zij is tot mij
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