tomrum

In the end we are all caught in devices of our own making. I believe that. In the end we are all caught.

I know only one thing. When I sleep, I know no fear, no, trouble, no bliss. Blessing on him who invented sleep. The common coin that purchases all things, the balance that levels shepherd and king, fool and wise man. There is only one bad thing about sound sleep. They say it closely resembles death.

Food is good for the nerves and the spirit. Courage comes from the belly – all else is desperation.

The pain was the world. The mind could not find a place outside it. He could hear the pain, staticky, in his hand and wrist. He closed his eyes again, briefly. He could feel himself contained in the dark but also just beyond it, on the lighted outer surface, the other side, belonged to both, feeling both, being himself and seeing himself.

The reason we all like to think so well of others is that we’re all afraid for ourselves. The basis of optimism is sheer terror.

At any street corner the feeling of absurdity can strike any man in the face.

Betrayal. We betray to be loyal. Betrayal is like imagining when the reality isn’t good enough... betrayal as hope and compensation. As the making of a better life. Betrayal as love. As a tribute to our unlived lives... betrayal as escape. As a constructive act. As a statement of ideals. Worship. As an adventure of the soul. Betrayal as travel. How can we discover new places if we never leave home? You were my Promised Land, Poppy. You gave my lies a reason.

And yet the slightest attempt to convert any meaningful idea (*of one’s own*—this is the main thing) into words leads inevitably to the thesis: for pure thought, all human languages are foreigners.

Fortunately, some are born with spiritual immune systems that sooner or later give rejection to the illusory worldview grafted upon them from birth through social conditioning. They begin sensing that something is amiss, and start looking for answers. Inner knowledge and anomalous outer experiences show them a side of reality others are oblivious to, and so begins their journey of awakening.

I live in a kind of tension between the will to say yes to my suffering, and my inability to utter this yes with complete sincerity.

The first 365 days of the year are always the hardest

I can see where
creation often
stops while the
body still lives
and often
does not care
to.

The death of life
before life
dies.
I can see where
creation often
stops while the
body still lives
and often
does not care
to.

the death of life
before life
dies.

My heartbeat has reached the epitome of rottenness; It is no longer part of my heart. Time for the shadows to come and grab me by the brain. Dearest, I am asking you again: Just how far is the sky?

Laughing at the universe liberated my life. I escape its weight by laughing. I refuse any intellectual translations of this laughter, since my slavery would commence from that point on.

I feel like the so called bad guys are never totally bad. I guess it’s the closest thing I can do to reality: people act nice but nobody really is nice. We all have to balance that with something dark. How we balance it is what makes something interesting…My character in “La Haine,” he’s not bad, he’s unhappy and usually people are like that. Most of us are angry. Maybe one day I’ll play Buddha.

But then comes a time when forgetting isn't possible. And I do mean a particular time when no amount of dreaming, not then and maybe not ever, can change how naked and unimportant we become in our own eyes.

Tomrum's journey ends here

I hope you have appreciated what has been posted here throughout years.

Tomrum will remain a sensation, a feeling, no longer a telegram channel.

Thank you all, may the wind always be at your back and the sun upon your face. And may the wings of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars.


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