Long time ago I got stopped by a stranger on the streets of New York. She looked deeply into my eyes and then took out a little package, saying: “Keep it for a day you feel like you there’s nothing more to lose”. I took it and had been carrying it secretly with me in my pocket every single day. Until one day there was really nothing much more left to lose.
It’s snowing like crazy.
I’m taking the subway this morning.Moments of
-waiting for a train to arrive
-waiting on a train to arrive (some place)
have always been the times when ideas find me.
But everything is so fast here in New York City. Especially trains. You have time only for short poems until it’s over.
Like snow angels
made on the first snow
and soon we will be forgotten
I know, sitting next to someone wearing a medieval cape and writing a bloody song about a baby’s ghost who is stuck “on the other side” can be a little bit…intense. That’s exactly what I was working on on the plane, by the way.
But just like all those businessmen, pilots, stewardesses – I was just doing my job at this very moment. That’s our job, dealing with ghosts. What all those characters in songs, books and movies are before they will be given some kind of a real form. They must be ghosts, aren’t they?
I have so many unseeable friends and I got to help them.That’s my job.
In Estonian is there is a word for a job: elukutse. If you’d translate it directly into English it would be “the call of life”. And that’s the way it should be.
Well, hello New York. Here we are again.
During the moments of writing I am weak .
I have put down all the weapons and protective crust,all my courage,all my human strength like pure silver that breaks easily ,whose shine can be ruined by a single freakin atom. That way I am thin enough to let the thoughts pass through me and find their way onto the paper.
Creating for me is all about becoming fragile.
And that’s why I try not to write in public spaces.Look at this world, we all need at least some kind of protection to survive.But as long as I’m wearing protection I can write nothing purely sincere.
Coming back to that actor who had ripped his soul there naked in front of everybody. He was pretty harmless. So I felt kinda safe to be weak too and write.
On the plane. I’m sitting next to a middle-aged actor who is practising his dramatic role out loud over the plane…I notice other people around giving him this glance 😒 and covering their ears with headphones. Me, on the other hand, I had never felt that happy before while taking a flight.
There we were sitting,one weirder than the other : him with his tragic phrases and emotions bursting out of his mouth and me in my medieval robe and pink hat with cat-ears.
But it was the first time when I felt totally comfortable to work on my song texts in a public space where everyone is sitting so close to each other that every word is exposed to the person next to you. I normally never do it. Or if I do I write in Estonian because nobody understands(99%) .This time was different.( to be continued…)
I took a bus,walked,took another bus,Now I’m on the plane.
I have no idea how this plane thing works. I haven’t learned to know that element called “air” but I trust that that human on the first seat has and knows perfectly what it’s all about. I actually haven’t learned driving a car either but I trust that all the humans and the bus driver have and know what it’s all about.
The buses and planes are full.Full of people who have enough trust inside them to step each morning into this crazy world.Crazy,beautiful world.Trust lives within us all even in those who find it hard to find it. Without trust one cannot Live his life ( or at least not with the letter “L” in capitals.
In Universe I trust ❤️
My house looks so empty. Almost all of the things that make this space in-between creme white walls my home are now stuffed inside the huge sky blue suitcase.
Since I was little I have always felt that I need to touch,see and feel all the things that live inside my soul. It’s a wild disco child – so my house is filled with plant patterns and different coloured lights,stars and paper butterflies.And chocolate,there always has to be chocolate.Thank god for the aztecs🙏And then there’s another luggage.It sounds pretty much like fairy dust.If you lift it you can hear the tinkling bells and clockenspiel mixing with the calming sound of rainstick. And I guess for the passers-by I might as well look like a medieval caravan: one of the heaviest costumes did not fit into the suitcase so I’m wearing it all the way from home to New York City today.