Destiny

No matter what we say out loud about this, we all have and follow our destiny. Look deep into yourself and you shall see that your dreams and passions are pushing you along a way to... somewhere.

And destiny awaits on us on every corner. In the past half a year I've met four girls that I was destined to be with. 'Where are they now?', I hear you ask. Exactly!

So I ask the Universe: 'Why won't you let me find a girl, settle down. That's what I want more than anything else.'

And the Universe replies: 'For you're destined for more and you need to walk your path.'

I figured it out. In the nearest future I must sail the world. Maybe a girl would get in a way. Happy and with a girl I would probably quite comfortable sit at home watching TV all evenings long, I wouldn't care about discovering mechanisms of human brains' working, I wouldn't run a marathon to prove that I can achieve anything that I set my mind to, I wouldn't learn many things about people and the world.

In other words, if our destiny would always be fulfilled immediately and with hardly any effort we would be maybe happy but terribly stupid and foolish. For it's only when one picks oneself up from the ground and when one rubs off stubborn tears of one's cheek and when one fights and looses and starts all over again - only then one acquires that magical power of wisdom. And being wiser may be the whole point.

However while keeping those keen eyes open in search for paths to destiny don't get fooled by signs! Ah, how I love signs and how they usually do me wrong.. Among recent girls there was one that brought with her more signs than all other ones together. She had my mum's name and hight and she turned out to be just as wrong as my dad - I could not find anyone more suitable than that. Even every keyboard was shouting that we were perfect together! Signs were all around me so I figured out that she must be my destiny and I wanted her. And so I fell for her and she very quickly broke my heart and our paths parted. That was pretty much it. I was badly upset but with time I grew bigger and stronger, faster and leaner, I have new dreams and new dramas, new friends and new enemies and foolish as I am, I am also a little bit wiser than I was in November. And I like the feel of it.

What could possibly go wrong?

I spent last week at sea. Sailing is not all that bright in winter. At times I asked myself: why the hell am I doing that? Because there's something challenging and enchanting about simple presence of water and air, something that reminds us of infinity. And infinity is daring.

I boarded a yacht with an expression 'a girl in every port' on my face (and on my hoodie). Very soon those words were gone, they didn't matter. I didn't have a single sex talk in a week! Suddenly chasing girls seemed rather insignificant or rather really not worth that much of a thought in every single second. What mattered was a basic comfort - to be warm (or relatively warm), to have a full belly and a sound sleep. Once that was achieved my brain was popping up open and suddenly I could see that there is so much more to life. I kind of always know it but then I really knew it. Life is about dreams and dares and experiences. Girls can't give all of that in a full spectrum.

After return to my land rat life the first thing I heard from my friends was that they had a rather poor faith in me continuing to be on my best behaviour and were already betting when I was going to slut myself up or create yet another kabum!. Hey - even I know how to keep my head down. Sometimes one has to..

Now the exciting stuff. I'm going away for my friend's birthday this weekend. There are attractions aplenty planned, there's a road trip involved and many games and activities coming up. It's going to be legendary. However friends that are staying behind are foreseeing some kind of a drama. Why? That clearly must be jealousy speaking. Just think about it:

Nine lesbians go for a weekend to a secluded cottage in a remote valley.. What could possibly go wrong? :)

Meaningless - vs - meaningful

My anti-valentine celebration of the previous night was cheerful and grand as expected it did however end with my good self loosing a day from my life. I felt awful to the power of awful. Maybe rightly so!

Somewhere there during the night's extravaganza I got suddenly hit by a deep thought on a meaning of my actions and existence. That is not an easy discourse when one's sober so just imagine my poor drunk brain struggling. So I ran to my friends - all the way on the other side of a table- and I cried 'Please help. Don't let me do anything stupid.'
'Who do you want to sleep with now?
'***.'
'Do you really want to?'
'No, but I will because I can.'
'Is it worth it?'
'No. It's a meaningless thing. But lacking meaningful someone what else is there left to do?'
And so it went on and on for a while. I believe that I tried to kiss every single one of my girl-friends present in a pub trying to prove the point of the above conversation (how?, don't ask me, that's beyond my comprehension). Eventually I kissed no-one, I went home on my own and twisted with pain as the day was passing by I had my little catharsis and I decided to act like a more meaningful person.

Don't get me wrong, I am a very meaningful person. I have a heart of gold and a wise mind. I perceive life realistically though at the same time I demand virtues and honourable behaviour of myself and yourselves. Every now and again, however, I do stupid things, meaningless things. I have my explanation and justification - I can do it, it keeps me in a loop, sometimes I need to do a meaningless nothing to get over a broken meaningful something etc. But what if by acting carelessly I miss on something special? As my friend said, what if a girl that could mean more is going to walk by seeing me doing sweet nothing with people I don't care about? Now, that's something to consider.

And therefore here I make a solemn promise of quitting booze and girls for a fortnight.
For I shall strive for more of a meaningful and less of a meaningless in this beautiful year of 2013.

The birth of the Idol (GUEST ENTRY)

There was a snowfall and my sister turned into a snowman (which, in Polish would be translated as an IDOL). So she became an idol of the old world and her skin is all covered with silver and gold and now I am only worried that she will weigh too much and they won't allow me to take her on board without paying extra fees... Could I maybe post her home and count that Royal Mail is not a bunch of little thieving dwarfs?... But that's tomorrow. I will worry tomorrow.
Tonight on the other hand I was woken up by a crowd of little creatures with twisted arms, with humps on their backs, with deformed faces and third and fourth eyes placed randomly on their bodies. They all wanted to greet a new idol that appeared on Earth. I had to get up and I attempted on organising them into a queue so each of them could rub their scary and pale cheeks on her hand without awakening the old power that had inhabited her body so suddenly. When the sun had started to slowly emerge from behind the forest line I started to quietly and with a whisper "shuu!" and "go away" them as even I was ever so slightly afraid of the little one (now, mind you, not so little and all covered in precious metals) to wake up: no-one knew if the idol she became is an old but benevolent power or maybe she has rather transformed into a cruel old creature that can (and will) - even just for her own entertainment - change whoever she encounters into a pulsating yet conscious mass...
So, I have managed to get rid off all the freaks of nature and sat very quietly at her side and waited for her silver eyelids with golden eye-lashes to part and allow rays of sun to enter her eyes (which used to be blue not so long ago and now I didn't even know what colour I should expect  - has her inside also become a precious metal or is she, somewhere deep inside, still this fragile human being that I used to know all her life?...). She moved for the first time ten minutes after nine. She rolled onto her side and opened her mouth from which in one (and quite elegant - it's hard not to be graceful and elegant when you are made out of silver and gold with shiny little onyxes that are attached to your scalp so they imitate the once present hair) motion she has disposed all of the organic, and it seems no longer needed, guts. She opened her eyes (blue it was no more) and froze again.
Once it was obvious that there is no imminent danger from her side, the deformed creatures started to fill the room once again. And as before, I took upon myself a role of the highest priest and made sure that only one at a time (and only for a few seconds  - as long as it takes me to count one - two - three) approaches her hand and whispers greetings and asks for a blessing. So: one - two - three; one - two - three; one - two - three...

The real friends

Friends are people who keep on listening to your meaningless and tedious little dramas over and OVER again. Well yes, they are. They are people who are there to pick you up and scrap you from the pavement when you fell or got broken again.

I love my friends and, dear friends, this is my little tribute to you.

I was a sad little kid with no real friends. With mates aplenty but with no real bonds for most of my younger life. Then it all changed. I started to talk and to communicate with people. I started to trust and to believe. By now I am surrounded by an incredible bunch of guys who are there for me. The slightest crisis strikes and I get a panel of specialists advising me on my mind's and heart's problems. I can't even account for all the text-conferences which I summoned in the recent times. Litres of alcohol drunk late at night and words pouring uncontrollably from mouth to mouth. With questions shooting right and left and desperate inquiries for some guidance. That guidance I received. Not without bollocking, smacking me across face, holding my hand and all other relevant stuff.

The stories that lead us to this love are not straight (how could they be?) and often comprised of grand explosions and wars. I let down probably every single one of my dearests and with some I went through a real mayhem. But souls that speak to each other and see beyond the boundaries find solutions at the end.

I have friends to whom I didn't speak for days, weeks, years. I have friends that I feared and those that I laughed at. Paths of life are often unpredictable and unprecedented. I fucked up many times and they fucked up sometimes too. But here we are - brothers in arms, fighting our way through life and chaos.

I make one promise - always to remember, always to strive for a better future, for a better now. Without you guys, I'd be just a big-headed trouble. With you, I'm special.

Leave the third one alone

It's Friday evening, I'm on a red wine swing, I think about my lovers past and future and I've just realised that I probably should classify this blog as containing 'adult content'! I always thought that if I come to this I would write dirty sex stories, erotics like "Emmanuel" or rather descriptive accounts of dark nights when I got laid. Ha, life has chosen a different path for me. Nonetheless, I use the word 'sex' freely and I'm just about to breach a controversial topic so let it be.

This is my small manifesto about the cheater, the cheated and the third one.

Many of us have played all the roles, some of us only two or one and probably not that many none (let's be realistic - this is life). It doesn't matter why things happen and where they lead. Let's look at the morals, the ethics.
For some bizzare reasons our society is ultimately targeting the third one. I always asked and I still ask 'why?' For that is the only person in the equation that is formally unattached and therefore ultimately free to do whatever they please. Why should the third one be blamed for mistakes of the cheater? How come the cheated one instead of facing the reality prefers to blame the innocent one?
I say all of this not because I'm single and therefore most likely to happen to be the third one. I say it because my inquiring mind likes to think things over, to put them on a universal scale of good and bad and then build a picture of perfection in this imperfect world.
Perfect for being just and honest. Imperfect for a conflict shall always be present and a dynamic nature of humans will bring a lot of drama and emotional spectacles.

Going back to the topic.
The cheated one is the one we should feel sorry for. And we do. His/her viewpoint is hazed by the emotions and maybe I can just about understand why it leads to a lot of cursing and swearing on the third one. It's easier like this. Who needs their heart broken more? Who wants to admit that a person they love is a piece of shit and has no regards for them? Let's find a scapegoat.
The cheater messed up a big time. Clearly if they had no guts to deal with a situation in a civilised manner and they opted for a little bit of sex behind their partner's back no-one should expect them to have enough morals and standards to admit their own failings. They too will blame the one they cheated on with.
The third one - the most innocent participants of the affair. Let's not forget that the third one may or may not know what role he/she is playing. And has no obligation to do so! I usually recommend not getting involved with a paired person for falling for an engaged person is a big mistake but do what you wish. If one does become the third one it's okay. It's not that person's responsibility to be responsible for a whole world around them. In fact he/she is really needed in that couple's life at that particular moment. Think about it. There's more in it than just pretty words.
The world however joins in the beating and smacking of the innocent one. The blaming culture is widespread and powerful. And I fear it.

Music, alcohol and women

Okay, I didn't blog for a whole two days. Outrageous, innit?!
I did many other interesting things in that time so it's not a time wasted. Apart from working many long ours I:
- visited a new place
- went to a concert
- came up with a movie script idea.

The new place is Malmesbury. And this is its story as I see it.
Few years ago I made a New Year (or birthday, I'm not sure; these are usually times when I resolute) to visit at least two new places in the UK a year. When I say a place I do not mean a pub or a gay club (though doing that is very enjoyable and always a bonus) but a new city or town or site. That grew from the fact that I've been living in this country for many long years now and I do not really know it very well. I need to improve it.
So I received an invitation to Malmesbury. I didn't know what to expect but I didn't expect much. My experience was beautiful. For a start it's a lovely old establishment with a lot of stone in its architecture. I approve of stone, it looks classy. Then there's a cathedral which looks like a Tintern Abbey on postcards, in real life is much smaller, it's open late at night though and looks pretty. Everyone knows everyone and you can just ask a passer-by, "Excuse me sir, would you kindly show me a way to Tom's house?" And what was a cherry on a top they serve beer that gets people drunk after having only one pint (I'm a Pole, I know what I'm saying).

The concert was in hands of a duty. Nothing happened that required my help (as in first aid help) so I got to enjoy a really good classic rock show. The guys on guitars were absolutely amazing. I think it was the first time in my life when I really got to understand a phrase "drugs, sex and rock'n'roll" with a stress on a rock'n'roll part.
I just had a though that my dear saying "wine, women and singing" in reality shows the very same principles.

The movie is going to be about a doll. And a child with a mother. The doll will be spooky. A bit like Chucky but in a more psychological rather than gore way. It's going to be a short and a rather short one. I need to find a camera man and a little girl to help me out with a project. I think that it has a potential.