deja vu. what is with that feeling, when you're like, holy shit, i know this, i've got this, i've had this? your mind does this little scramble where it tries to figure out exactly where it is that you've actually had the experience or seen the something before, was it a dream, are you psychic, what the hell is it?? usually, when it happens with me, it's little fleeting moments of the petty and mundane, a certain part of a brick wall (not even the whole thing), the way someone you don't even know passes you in the subway, something you see out of the corner of your eye so quickly that you can barely remember what it was only a moment later. for a couple seconds you try to figure it out and usually you don't, because evidently you simply cannot, regardless of what Deepak Chopra says, and you're left to the general precepts of the snoresville life you led only moments before. what about people? what about those people that you're like God i feel like i've known you forever, but really, i only just met you yesterday? what's with that? that's another question on my Great List of Questions that i would really like answered one day, thank you God.
par exemple: my great girfriend, Marija. we've had our ups and downs, but for the most part, you can NOT convince me that i did not know that sizzling wench of a woman somewhere else, looooong before i met her by accident only in the aughts on Manhattan. in fact, if i had to guess, i would say our history goes back to some phat harem somewhere, where we almost certainly bonded over general ridicule regarding the bereft manlihood of the sultan, or grand vizier, at the least. that, and fresh Turkish Delight. otherwise, it doesn't make sense. kind of like that person you love so much you want to tear your eyes out sometimes and for the life of you, you can't figure it out but somehow you do, you do love them, and the only thing that seems logical to me here is that you're just doing what comes naturally, which is what you do when something is familiar, like when you're doing it...again.
speaking of sultry, I just got back from Belgrade. this sounds so cheesy, but i have to say it. Belgrade is like a lazy dark haired lady with crazy dark eyes and i would even venture to say thick dark eyebrows sprawled out on some ornately upholstered chaise, her lounge wear flowing behind and away from her in all these dark, rich flowy colors (I'm thinking something circa 1900 Ottoman opulence here), her head resting on her forearms as she looks out over nothing (and two rivers), generally bored out of her mind. and it's hot. like literally, it's hot, and that's why she's so lazy, but she is just so beautiful and grand that you just want to look and look at her even when you're walking away and you know you really have to go, but you're still tripping all over yourself checking this lazy hottie out. Belgrade's really not that beautiful, come to think of it, but it certainly seems like it.
now i'm back to NY, and she ain't no lady.
here's a pic, Marija and me.
par exemple: my great girfriend, Marija. we've had our ups and downs, but for the most part, you can NOT convince me that i did not know that sizzling wench of a woman somewhere else, looooong before i met her by accident only in the aughts on Manhattan. in fact, if i had to guess, i would say our history goes back to some phat harem somewhere, where we almost certainly bonded over general ridicule regarding the bereft manlihood of the sultan, or grand vizier, at the least. that, and fresh Turkish Delight. otherwise, it doesn't make sense. kind of like that person you love so much you want to tear your eyes out sometimes and for the life of you, you can't figure it out but somehow you do, you do love them, and the only thing that seems logical to me here is that you're just doing what comes naturally, which is what you do when something is familiar, like when you're doing it...again.
speaking of sultry, I just got back from Belgrade. this sounds so cheesy, but i have to say it. Belgrade is like a lazy dark haired lady with crazy dark eyes and i would even venture to say thick dark eyebrows sprawled out on some ornately upholstered chaise, her lounge wear flowing behind and away from her in all these dark, rich flowy colors (I'm thinking something circa 1900 Ottoman opulence here), her head resting on her forearms as she looks out over nothing (and two rivers), generally bored out of her mind. and it's hot. like literally, it's hot, and that's why she's so lazy, but she is just so beautiful and grand that you just want to look and look at her even when you're walking away and you know you really have to go, but you're still tripping all over yourself checking this lazy hottie out. Belgrade's really not that beautiful, come to think of it, but it certainly seems like it.
now i'm back to NY, and she ain't no lady.
here's a pic, Marija and me.
