so wtf is love after all it’s like going back to school; the hibbie jibbies feeling; the under the covers when it’s dark and raining outside and there are fucking homless people out there and it’s like colouring a book outside the lines and from time to time thinking how lucky you are hibbie.
going back just to smile at your clean scrubbed past like a blackboard wiped so many times jibbies.
It has been 30 years now since I’ve first eaten and it all began with something raw. None of this mumbo jumbo cashew – cacao butter – coconut oil deserts though. Trying somehow to re connect with nature got me “cooking” this raw cake filled with pretentious ingredients – maybe for the constant need of balancing my boring self. Anyway, here are the things I blended together in order to plate these colours and flavors :
cold pressed coconut oil
raw cacao butter
And thank you, mum&dad, for bringing me into the world! Love,
we all started out life whole and vital, eager for life’s adventures, but we all had a perilous pilgrimage through childhood. In fact, some wounding took place in the first few months of our lives. Think for a moment about the ceaseless demands of an infant. When an infant wakes up in the morning, it cries to be fed. (…) It signals distress the only way it knows – with an undiferentiated cry – and if the caretakers are perceptive enough, the infant is fed, changed, held and experiences momentary satisfaction. But if the caretakers can’t figure out what is wrong or if they withhold their attention for fear of spoiling the baby, the child experiences a primitive anxiety: the world is not a safe place. (H. Hendrix, Getting the love you want)
the world is now a safe place but sometimes the world is not a safe place here comes my love of books hiding in the attic reading the never ending story Bastian Batlhasar Bux
coffee has a different name every morning today I’m gonna call it butter&jam and who knows tomorrow / christmas cards pagan cookies the winter solstice. sun standing still for the shortest day of the year, standing still at the end of the 29th year on earth this Tuesday and then.
coffee will take another name on Wednes-day of woden, day of Mercury.
that green door opening every time your heart beats. wondering is it love? if it hurts. how do you like your women? rare medium rare.
when I came back to London, the sunset wasn’t on my side. All of its red, pink, orange and purple were sneaking in through the opposite windows. I wished I could have seen it, I think. Or maybe not. There was this blue on my side. Blue was ok to begin with. Green door on the other side. When I think about it, I see myself inside my mother’s womb and trust me, it’s not my fault I want to find that happiness again. With you, the Eros. The vital energy. Door opening and closing. Baby food. Spooning when we’re sleeping. Dead birds and cats and dogs; all the pets I had as a child disappeared like they weren’t even there. What’s on the other side of that door ?