Come wander with me

     We made this cover version (originally it's a song by Bonnie Beecher) with my love few months back, when we tried unsuccessfully to find our place in Krakow. She's such a darling, I miss her. We share the same saddness and maladjustment, but she is my light anyway:) Enjoy the song, folks, good night.

December fairies

   It’s been two weeks in UK already. So what’s the development? Eh, fuck it. I don’t feel like talking about the job hunting and stuff. I’d rather fly away, find some cozy hideout and look at stars, smoking cigarettes (the ones that don’t give cancer and smell of gingerbreads), and feeling safe and looked after. You know what I mean – the feeling of home, belonging, harmony. Something that I’m not sure can be reached on this messed up planet. Soon I’ll be forty (little bit more then in two years). Twenty, even ten years ago I thought that at this age I was going to know what it is all about - who I am, what I want from life, where is my place. It happens that I still don’t have a clue. I’m thirty seven years old dude, sitting alone in a dusty garret, in a crappy town, in a foreign country, without a dime to rub against another, watching The Big Bang Theory, writing bad poetry, and drinking way too much Strong Bow. But this is not what I wanted to say.

I miss it.
The sound of half-frozen brook, stars, icy air,
December fairies in their sheepskin coats
And rosy chicks.
To walk in the winter nights,
With snow creaking under the boots,
With ancient gods and spirits
Waving to us from their sky-ships,
With our thoughts crisp and clear,
Our roots deep and sturdy,
Our wings lighter then moonlight.
I remember the dark winter nights,
When I was a wolf.
I’ll meet you there.

Short recap

     - I went to Liverpool two days ago. I liked the city. It was my first time. I’ve decided to stick to it. I mean until now I was hesitating between Liverpool and Manchester, but I have good feelings about the former, and also it will be good if I focus on one city, so maybe I could start to look for accommodation, options, etc.

     - I can’t register with the agencies until I have two proofs of address. I will have one when I get my bank card (so I can register online and print the statement). As for the second one, I’m not sure. Maybe I take a contract with Tesco phone, and then I just pull out, I think I have two weeks to cancel it, and I’d have second proof of address already. It’s such a pain in the ass to start living in a new country. I’m getting too old for it.

     - Since I’m pretty bankrupt right now (and I mean below Absolute Zero), I’m starting to look for some temp jobs. Who knows when I’ll get back into the social work. I have to maintain myself until then. I was considering finding some squatter’s place, but don’t really know where to start.  Apart from that I wrote a message to some Liverpool social center, where they have a vegetarian café fully run by volunteers. If they’d manage some lodgings for me, I could help them for a while. With my vegetarian cheffing experience, that could work well.

    - It’s Saturday. There is a bit of sun so maybe I’ll take my uke and go to the park, to practice some.

     Take care, invisible people.

A boyish boy (or Home)

"A boyish boy you are", said he,
the ghost of Christmas past.
I though he laughs at tears, but no,
his smile was kindly cast.

That’s boy:
“I cannot get it, sir, so please,
explain to my this life,
my hair is grey, but deep inside,
I feel like I was five”

“Like everybody else I try,
like grownups try to be,
to find a job, make money, home,
with breakfast drink my tea”

“But even if I try my best,
I’m lost, I’m lying not,
and deep inside I really know,
this world is not my home”

“So what advice you have, what aid,
what wisdom can you give?
Can man like me, a troubled soul
find peace, his realm to live?”

That’s where I ended speech, and looked
at window dark, deep night,
The Christmas ghost went home I guess,
and so must I embark.

Ukulele in the park

     I’m writing two blog posts a day. It just shows how little is happening in my life right now. But I  don’t like to be idle. I dragged my lazy and depressed ass out of the house and went to explore Crewe. Well, there is not much to explore here, but I wanted to go to the Queen’s Park and try to chill out in the sun. It’s a quite long walk, maybe 2 miles, so it was perfect. I forgot to take my American Spirit with me, so first I was angry, but then I told myself that it’s better not to pollute that nice summer walk (yes, smoking, I’m going to give it up, when Tatiana joins me, I promise).
     I found a reasonably secluded spot,  rested against the tree, took out my ukulele and let myself to sink into old songs. I wanted to have a souvenir, so I recorded one of my favorites, maybe you know it (Manu Chao “Me llaman calle”). At first I didn’t feel good there. I have this alienation feeling I can’t shake off yet, but then something switched inside, and I was ok.
     I did also another thing to change my attitude. I found a website with foreigners’ blogs who live in the UK. I decided to pick up the ones I found interesting and follow them here, on the Wayfarer. Mostly those are written by Americans, Canadians, but also others like Spanish, Italian, Bulgarian (I haven’t gone through all of them, so may be more nationalities). And basically they (I mean mostly Americans, but also Australians, Canadians) have very positive attitude towards life. I guess it runs in their blood, but as for me (Polish), we tend to be more negative, expecting the worst, complaining, etc. I’m little bit fed up of this so why not to try to change a little? I need to break out of this bloody pessimism pattern. The world is neutral. It’s up to us how we paint it.

That lovely little devil

   

      I had the weirdest dream ever. Weirdest but also the coolest.
     The background was such that I was married into this really wealthy, old aristocratic family, you know, like Granthams from Downton Abby. They didn’t like me very much, but I didn’t care, I loved my wife, she loved me.
     Eventually we had a baby. Oh, I loved her so much. She was tiny, smelled so beautiful, I was just carrying her around in bliss. Then at one point I lost her. I just turned away for a second and she was gone. Everyone was looking for her in panic, I was devastated, I thought someone kidnapped her, or maybe she had fallen into some hole.
     And then I found her. But to my surprise she was older. I lost her when she was a baby, but now she was like three - four years old. Still I knew she was my daughter. Not thinking that it was weird, I took her in my arms with relief.
     “Where have you been? We were looking for you everywhere! Don’t do it ever again” – I cried.
     “Sorry daddy I was hiding. I had some stuff to do” she said apologetically. “I love you daddy” she added with a smile and kissed me.
     It was the first time she spoke to me (of course it was - five minutes earlier she was like a month old), and I loved her voice. Only then I realized that she wasn’t a regular child. She was a little demon girl. And the weirdest thing was I still loved her like a madman. She loved me too. She gave me a strong hug, kiss, smiled impishly, winked and then changed back into a baby, so when everyone else came, they wouldn’t notice anything wrong.
     I loved this dream. I woke up happy, livened up. I think I may have some regrets for not having kids. It wasn’t the first time I dreamt about my daughter “Who-Could-Be”.

Monday is over

   

         Still bit withdrawn from life. Most of the day sitting in front of the screen and sending those applications all over the place. Today I’ve realized I could try homeless jobs. Generally I’m made for social work, but I don’t have to work with kids necessarily. I just need to do something that makes sense and is as far removed from capitalist relationships as possible. I don’t say it for a pose. I just don’t want to work for a capitalist enterprise. It feels so dry and empty. I need something with people, where I could use my energy to help others. Not because I’m a good person (though I’m trying), but it is the only thing that makes sense to me right now. Other things just feel stupid.
     What else? I feel lonely. Tatiana is couple of thousands miles away. I don’t have any company that I could really share my heart with. You know – doubts, fears, hopes. I have to hold it in. Not much creative neither. No way I could continue with my novel until I sort myself out. Not even songs writing. First the job. Then place to live. And only then I can start to think about other things. Why? I don’t know. I’m just too strung up to do anything else.
     Little song to mellow out, maybe a movie (“Safety Not Guaranteed”) and Monday is over.
   
 
The drawing is "recycled" from my old blog. I like to escape to those dream realms:)