Thinkin about my relationship with miumiu... it was her birthday on Saturday... I found some old letters, and a fragment of conversation on the net... a review of Luc Besson's film Joan of Arc, leftover from the toto days. God, we were so bright back then... we had so much energy and conviction we inspired others to seize life by the collar and make it their own. It feels like I've achieved little since those heady times. Besides this blog, I have little creative output to show since I finished uni. Even Miso says I was going somewhere back then, but now I seem weary of the world. A tired snail, a beaten down nail, a nowhere man... or as Molly used to tease me back in high school, "You're an abcess on the bowel of progress!"

Hg feels depressed because of a lack of meaningful relationships in his life. I have many meaningful relationships, yet I feel the same way. I can feel the rope slipping between my fingers. You have to hang on, to get to the top of the hill. A cruise liner drives thru the squalls and massive swells, steadfast and indominatible. But I'm a mere pleasure craft, sailing with the prevailing winds. When I am alone, I watch DVDs and lie in bed, listening to my Mac shuffle thru my enormous mp3 collection. Lemon Jelly, Brandy, Cibo Matto. I think about my ex-girlfriends. Do I like the choices I made? No, not anymore. Do I know what I want? Happiness... or unhappiness. The type that allows you to enjoy your suffering and die with lust. To live again in the heart of that glorious overture. Hear that sudden lift? A crescendo of joy, so loud it echoes into history.

I am Yu Law! I am nobody's bitch!

You, Nereis, have been an artist and a thinker, a potato worm full of joy and faith, always on the track of what is great and eternal, never content with the trivial and the petty... You have a picture of life within you, a faith, a challenge, and you were ready for deeds and sufferings and sacrifices, and then you became aware by degrees that the world asked no deeds and no sacrifices of you whatever, and that life is no poem of heroism with heroic parts to play and so on, but a comfortable room where people are quite content with eating and drinking, coffee and knitting, cards and radio music. And whoever wants more and has got it in him - the heroic and the beautiful, and the reverence for the great poets or for the saints - is a fool and a Don Quixote.

Got a letter from the film school today. They won't even look at me. Disappointment bubbles. I was always worried about being practically empty, about having no serious reason for living. And now, confronted with the facts, I am sure of my individual nullity. Like Phil Collins said: "Take a look at me now, there's just an empty space." 120 applicants, narrowed down to 12 interviewees, then 4 lucky so and so's who get to spend the next year of their life learning how to direct films. I was hoping to at least make the shortlisted twelve. But no, the letter says I didn't even make the top 30. Oh yeah, rub that salt in! I ain't hurtin enough already. But behind the disappointment, an overture of relief. The verdict brings with it clarity and conviction. I must concentrate on my career and enjoying life. For now, the great polarity of my life has flickered out. The internal conflict is subdued. Will it return? Will I go on to make more movies and re-apply next year? Not bloody likely, but who knows? If I meet the right people anything can happen.

Before the letter, I ran into Vince. He's going to work in the US for 3 months so he can learn Spanish at night-class and then move to Barcelona. I like Vince. He thinks big. But everyone tells him, "Do you know how silly that sounds?" I draw inspiration. The more you understand the world in which you live, the better you live. I will play with my life until I am happy with it. I will imagine I am more. As Hermine explained to me, "We demonstrate to anyone whose soul has fallen to pieces that he can rearrange these pieces of a previous self in what order he pleases, and so attain to an endless multiplicity of moves in the game of life." Like the invisible man who's always changing his clothes, it's all about taking the easy way out. This is the art of life... you may complicate and enrich it as you please. It lies in your hands. Just as madness in a higher sense is the beginning of all wisdom, so is schizophrenia the beginning of all art and all fantasy.

Found a moment of solace in this short Elliot Smith song - not even two minutes long, but crammed with bittersweet meanings. It seems all his songs are inspired by post-breakup angst and new beginnings. Me, myself, I'm moving on, from track 4 to track 2 to track 7.

A lot of hours to occupy
it was easy when I didn't know you yet
things I have to forget
but I better be quiet now
I'm tired of wasting my breath
carrying on, getting upset
not over it yet

Maybe I have a problem
thats not what I wanted to say
I prefer to say nothing
I got a long way to go
I'm getting further away

You don't need my help anymore
it's all now to you, there ain't no before
now that you're big enough to run your own show
you're just somebody that I used to know

I watched you deal in a dying day
throwing the living past away
so you can be sure you're in control

I know you don't think you did me wrong
and I can't stay this mad for long
keeping a hold of what you just let go
you're just somebody that I used to know

I remember what you said that night
ain't it the truth?
you're gonna be a penniless bastard
another wannabe in film history
I gotta leave you for some security
so when I go home I'll be happy to go
and you'll just be somebody I used to know

Tonight I feel old and sad. Found some old photos on my computer. Seems like yesterday. I know I was there. I feel like I'm there. But it only exists in my mind now.

I don't believe in there being "a one" for all eternity. I believe there are many people who could be "the one" if you just came across them at the right place at the right time. But it's not easy to find another "one", as the majority of them are taken at any given time, or living in faraway places. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I think I found one, and then I lost her.

Looking at her face I feel like crying. Strange feeling. Why did she leave me? She was very sick that day. I was worried and wanted to go back to the hotel. But she looks so happy in the photos. She loved me so much. Where did it go wrong? How could I have missed it? It ended badly. I was too proud to admit it was happening. Until it was too late. Then I begged her to stay. How stupid of me.

I want to touch her now. But she is gone.