Povedal si cisár Nero Nie je dobré vládnuť ľuďom živeným vierou. Chlebom a hrami živená masa Lepšie despotom ovláda sa.
* Historicky nie celkom presný rým snáď ale viete o čom hovorím. Už starí Rimania vedeli ako na to Ľudia zabavili sa, cisár si stískal zlato.
Tak aj ja tu sedím Futbal, pivko, dobre je mi. Ako dobre pri tej telke Zabúda sa na problémy. Len škoda, že neviem do lopty kopať A na záhrade mi netečie ropa. Nezáleží ako skončí zápas Zajtra budem musieť do fabriky za pás.
I always wanted to create a comic that would have some potential to entertain people, but with my drawing skills I thought it’s not really possible. Eventually, after seeing a few doodling artists gaining popularity with somewhat simpler drawing techniques, but good stories, or funny content, I realised that perhaps there is a chance for me to try. Of course I could have tried even before this realisation, but the fear of failure was holding me back. This explanation wasn’t intentional, but it quite fits – not acting because of fear of failure is actually one of the common symptoms of having a pain body.
* Disclaimer: There will be swearing in my comic.
Now, what the fuck is pain body?
If you’re familiar with teachings of Eckhart Tolle, or at least attempted to read some self help books (because adulthood sucks) you should know that Pain Body is a fictional entity made of our trauma and trauma responses and it interacts with our mind and “real” body in the most annoying ways. You could theoretically call it an emotional baggage (something ugly and heavy that we drag around), but as I quite like Eckhart I opted for Pain Body as the main character in my comic.
Of course every super hero in comic book, even villains, should have a side kick, so I’ve given a Little Broken Heart to my Pain Body #PB78 as its trusty companion.
PS 1 – I have made this deal with my Pain Body that it’ll let me do stuff that gives me some joy and fulfillment, in return for giving it som PR and keeping it alive and well without too much effort aimed at its eradication (given that it’s pretty much futile to destroy Pain Body, I feel like it was a bargain).
PS 2 – This is just a short introduction and I might change the style of the drawing, but I hope it will be fun reading.
I made a deal with Anneke that we will try to do more photo shoots now that I bought new lens. It was just a little test, but they seem to be pretty good.
Just a few photos showing Anneke wearing outfit inspired by SKA culture. I was happy that she loved The Interrupters and hopefully one day we will see them together.
Yesterday my friends’ father died. And whilst it doesn’t impact me directly, it’s yet another piece of sadness that someone has to carry on top of what they were already carrying.
Recently I’ve started reading a book about Kurds and it just opened my eyes to the tragedy of this nation. As well as miracle that it is.
With my own father suffering from cancer I cannot help but feel a lot of sadness myself. It’s not always present, or at least it’s not always seeking some attention from me, but I know it’s there.
I’ve been listening to Moby’s phenomenal album Destroyed in the past two days as I shared a song from it with a girl I recently met online and we became friends. Even though song I shared was Stella Maris, from the album I especially love the song The Day. It is about a day Moby spent in the hospital with his dying mother. She passed away from lung cancer in 1997.
Before The Day I used to contemplate what it’s like to lose a parent listening to The Ocean Spray by Manic Street Preachers. This phenomenal rock anthem was written by James Dean Bradfield remembering time spent at hospital with his mother and it’s simply a reference to a cranberry juice drink given to patients in hospitals in UK and Ireland. James’ mother died in 1999.
I’m not even sure what I want to say with these words. I had this idea for a short story that would start with Moby in the hospital and the main protagonist going on with his or her day and the idea was to simply refer to some moments in the pop music culture through the main character, but as I often get ideas for a story and almost never end up actually writing anything, I thought I will at least capture what I felt.
I’ve decided to write more often and I suppose such decision must inevitably come with some spontaneous spurs of inspiration leading to somewhat chaotic posts. Yet I believe there’s value and beauty in them as they too capture a moment in time, how we felt as a photograph does.
By the way, I’ve also bought new camera lens today. I hope to capture some moments visually too. Although words are my favourite way of preserving time and feelings.
I heard some people ask why we Wish peace to the dead When we maybe should wish and work For peace for the living instead
But I worry that peace doesn’t just happen One has to work for it (and quite hard!) And it’s only privilege of the dead To give some rest to their guard
It’s almost as if our minds were constantly Assessing if we should fight or flight And even if some things look favorable We focus on those that don’t seem right
So we push ourselves out of comfort zone In the pursuit of happiness Never really realising that instead of wanting more We could just maybe accept less
Do. Grow. Improve. Change. Increase. Never settle or dare to be satisfied Just don’t be surprised when you find out That somewhere along the way your peace died
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I believe peace is reserved for the dead indeed Us living simply can’t escape the chaos of our mind At least we can seek some comfort in knowing That by default peace was never ours to find