Career in advertising?

I finally decided where and how I would like to spend the next few years: as a tv commercial planner in Japan. Boom. Bang.

The success rate is quite low, because of the simple fact that I am a foreigner in this country and my Japanese level might be not high enough to actually dive in to the business world without drowning. But I want to give it a go.

I have given this great thought, spent months doubting, trying to lay out my options; work in a bar and save money to travel, become a writer, start my own trade company, study film, win the lottery...The mere variety of these options made me realize that I need to keep dreaming on the one hand, but also on the other hand I need to keep my feet firmly on the ground . I think tv ad designer is far out the best combination of all.

"Please, hire me!!!"

Boom bang. Over and out.

A probe up your nose in bits and pieces

"You're a really nosy guy. You should stop probing into other people's lives."

But that's, I believe, what I have come to do here on this planet: probe. As a man, I was born to probe women, both physically and mentally. As a human being, I was born to probe my surroundings. Maybe the whole reason why I live, is because there is an environment I actually am able to live in. And maybe the whole reason why the world exists, is because I (we) need an environment where I (we) can live. Zero-thinking, re-flux, baby.

Let's hop around in a circle and smile at the camera.

But as I said, I was born to probe. To be nosy, to incessantly investigate my surroundings. Out of pure necessity though. An extremely wary person, I find it hard to belief in something beautiful and pure. I do not believe in it. Oh yes, I have built Utopia with my bare hands, but for some reason there isn't even one insurance company willing to help me secure its future.

You know, back in the old days, people would say: "Don't cry, the camera's rolling." Now they say: "Oh come on, cry! The camera's rolling!".

The thing is, though, although it kills me probing deeper and deeper into something which is by definition completely uncertain and is merely based on whatever I have gotten into my head, simplicity would also kill me. Do we really want to know the truth? Colgate white and fluffy clouds. Zero-thinking, re-flux, baby.

Utopia, I still believe.

Someone, once said near the end of his life:

"My whole life I have been looking for the answer. Now, finally, I have found it, but I forgot the question."

Fragments of jealousy

I see her naked body, being infiltrated by his flesh.
Outside though, the city is burning, a raging crowd assembles amidst the flames:
their open mouths, screaming out silence, because only her moaning can be heard.
Her hands hopelessly trying to regrip the void, where I used to be.
Their sex is an act of pyromania.

Curse you both, for being so free.

Ten days

It's been ten days. Ten days of climbing, falling, crawling, crying, flying, dying, reviving, shining. No need to go into this any further though. Because time is like sand on a child's chalk drawing.

Check out Max Richter: melancholic indies-electronica on piano.

Change?

Met you again.

My grandfather's watch died, just like he did last fall.

Jetlag.

Happy New Tsunami

Tomorrow, I'll be back on a plane, complaining about the narrow cell that is my window-side-seat, opening plastic packaging to get to my plastic fork, watching movies on an extremely colour-unbalanced miniature television screen and last but not least resist the urge to fondle myself out of pure boredom. But all these discommodities are mere luxury problems and are in no way to be compared with the devastation and despair in South-East Asia. Misere nobis for complaining about lack of airplane luxury.