LUKA: But what happens when you feel guilty about unmet expectations you didn’t even know you had?
ChatGPT: Navigating the guilt and expectations in this situation starts with acknowledging and validating your feelings.
Recognize that your guilt stems from a mix of unspoken hopes and the anxiety of trying to reconnect in a changed dynamic.
Reflect on the expectations you may have carried into his visit—like rekindling the intimacy you once shared—
and remind yourself that it’s natural to feel disappointment when reality doesn’t match hopes, even subconscious ones.
To release the guilt, remind yourself that anxiety isn’t a flaw but a response to uncertainty.
You cared, you tried to communicate, and his withdrawal likely reflects his own inner struggles, not your shortcomings.
Use this experience to reflect on your values and boundaries, and focus on what you want moving forward—
whether that’s clarity in communication or letting go of expectations tied to the past.
Self-compassion is key: you were doing your best in a complex emotional situation, and that deserves grace, not guilt.
LUKA’S SUMMARY ON HOW TO DEAL WITH HEART-WRENCHING GUILT
1.ACKNOWLEDGE guilt and explore its source
(avoid killing yourself in this step)
2.PRACTICE SELF-COMPASSION
(+by recognizing that unmet expectations don’t define your worth)
3.REFRAME the situation and focus on adapting it to future instances
by aligning your expectations to your values
4. RELEASE Guilt thru Forgiveness
5.REASSESS your priorities to prevent hidden expectations from taking root and biting you in the ass later
6.GRACE, NOT GUILT
Grace, not guilt.
14122024 SHH. Can you see I’m starting to focus?
13122024
so I went to bed super sad for a few nights in a rowthinking of biceps and I couldn’t fall asleep unless I thought about everything I could have said
11122024 I GOT SCAMMED BY MY FUTURE SELF
I got a book about dreams
because the cover made me come closer
and the contents seemed great
as a gift for Luka, as a gift for myself
it was tightly wrapped in plastic foil which made it seem even more like a gift for someone else
and I wasn’t sure if I should keep it to myself and read it or if I should give it away.
(as originally I went XMAS shopping, and not Luka shopping!)
after a few days of temptation and procrastination, I decided to go ahead and open it. Jumping on my little one person couch, getting cozy under my heated blanky I looked at the back of the book to find the perfect corner to open it from.
suddenly, all of a sudden, too sudden
the publisher and the topic seemed awfully familiar
and I realized I had applied to be a part of this very book earlier this year, around April or so.
I quickly opened my laptop to check if this was true (I knew it was, but I needed to feel like I’m checking)
and there it was- the Email.
‘unfortunately your text didn’t fit our publishing bla bla bla ’
not remembering what I applied with I quickly opened the document attached in the email titled ‘LukaMU_PoemSubmission_DREAMS2024’
(I don’t remember writing this but I recognize when and where it was written )
05122024 5th of December Part Two: KUKAVICA!!!!
maybe I need my heart again to be shattered again to cry again instead of picking up pieces of yet another half-glazed much-needed self-made ashtray that I broke
and put two layers of neon nail polish on the cracked parts just to feel proactive
05122024 5th of December Part One: SOLANGE WAS RIGHT!!!!
24112024 DON’T TALK TO US UNLESS YOU GOTS SOMETHING TO SAY!!!
23112024 IT IS WHAT IT IS
08.112024 REALITY CHECK COMES FIRST (and he isn’t nice enough to finish last)
Arrival of the Martians and the Disbelief of Current Technological Advancements
Flash of lightI saw something big from the rooftop
So I had to come closer
I climbed down the stairs after not leaving my house for five years
Crossed the street
Immediately stepped into a piece of chewing gum
And got in my car
Silence
I pulled up to an empty parking lot
It was pitch black;
None of the lights were on
Only darkness, silence
And that piece of chewing gum on the sole of my shoe
With an electronic hum in the distance
So, technically, semi-silence I guess
The gum feels like it’s not on my shoe but my bare foot
And there’s a sound of tires
Somewhere in my head
Screeching through the empty space surrounding my body
My body which is now laying flat on the ground
Waiting for the next car to come
Or a UFO to beam me the fuck out of this cold and empty parking lot
And back into my house
01.112024 I surprised Klara with Pink Balloons!
22102024 MIXED MEDIA COLLECTION (What Makes A Curator)
1102024ALWAYS PICKING UP THE PIECES, BIT BY BIT
And no matter how much I clean my table, there will always be a layer of dust in the morning
30092024 THIS TIME I MAKE THE RULES
Sometimes I get trapped in a thought and catch myself talking about the same idea to everyone around me for a month, if not several. It’s like I catch something from the sea but in order for it to really be caught it needs to be shown to anyone who is willing to see it. If a fish gets caught at sea, is it really caught if no one but the fisherman saw it? If a tree falls in a forest and there is no one there to see it, did it really fall? If Luka finds a great top in a second-hand and then loses it on the way home, did he even find a great top in the first place?
21092024 FRIENDS, LOVERS, LOVERS, FRIENDS, LUKA
20092024 TRINKETS GIVE US PURPOSE
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
All Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The TrinketsAll Hail The Trinkets
51092024
Literary Shenanigans: Cracking the Code:
‘Feed me Ham & Cheese and tell me to Shut The Fuck Up’
The text captures a stream of consciousness from the perspective of someone feeling overwhelmed by modern life, their own thoughts, and emotional struggles. It blends mundane actions like answering a phone call, buying a pencil sharpener (a metaphor for drugs or tobacco), and eating with intense, raw feelings of anxiety, self-doubt, and disconnection from others. The speaker is grappling with issues of identity, fear of intimacy, and dissatisfaction with long-distance relationships, all while feeling addicted to social media and the validation it brings.
There's an inner conflict between wanting human connection and being afraid of it, as expressed in the desire to be called "Boy" but not touched unless asleep, as well as the wish to receive messages but the inability to communicate effectively. The text also conveys a sense of existential boredom and detachment from life's routines, reflected in self-deprecating humor and references to darker thoughts, like contemplating suicide but deciding against it for fear of missing Instagram and the validation that comes with it. At its core, the text highlights a deep struggle with self-identity, isolation, and emotional fatigue in a world dominated by superficiality and virtual interactions.
13092024 THIS TIME I GO HOME
(I don’t really know what to say to people when they speak to me, I make it up as I go and then try remembering what narrative I’m building and as which character-that’s why I don’t have a favorite colour)
I keep collecting pictures of balconies (I like)
So that One day I could have a wall, full of balconies (I like)
I also keep collecting photos of my body
So I remember how it looks like, once I start forgetting
08082024 If anyone was wondering, yes, I am Still thinking about my Intimacy Issues
and no, I still haven’t figured Them out
29072024 Featured In a Zine, ate some dry cake at the soft launch
27072024
Literary Shenanigans: Cracking the Code: ’ I don’t remember my last kiss but sometimes I clean after myself in a shared space (What Makes Me A Journalist)’
The text is a deeply introspective piece that explores themes of memory, identity, and the nature of storytelling.
The repeated emphasis on not remembering the last kiss highlights a disconnect from personal, intimate experiences,
suggesting that certain emotional memories can fade or become less significant over time.
This contrasts with the narrator's vivid recollection of routine tasks, like cleaning, which provide a sense of control and stability.
The narrator's contemplation of their role as a journalist raises questions about the reliability of memory and the ethics of documenting other people's lives. This introspection reveals a tension between the desire for meaning and the fleeting nature of human experience.
The piece questions whether it's justifiable to transform people's lives into narratives,
and whether writing about others' stories diminishes or distorts their reality.
The obsessive planning and cleaning routines serve as coping mechanisms for the narrator's anxiety and lack of direction.
These rituals highlight the struggle to find order in a chaotic world, where personal memories,
like the last kiss, can slip away, leaving the narrator feeling disconnected and uncertain.
21072024 My friends keep saving me over and over again as July is passing us by
I keep saying to everyone that there is a shift in the Universe
And I keep fixing things.
I keep rethinking the medication I’m taking,
I keep dreaming about the medication I’m not taking
I keep saying to everyone that there is a shift in the Universe
And I keep fixing things.
I am made to remove stains and to be someone else’s roommate
I keep getting sad about the world
But I keep snapping out of it by hanging out with my friends
I keep saying to everyone that there is a shift in the Universe
And I keep fixing things.
Where will we all live once we are eighty
Will I still complain about the weather
And will I still quote Whitney Houston on a daily basis
14072024 Every time I say my name out loud a clown gets their smile, and every time a clown gets their smile my throat chakra closes a centimeter more
23062024 THE DEATH OF TECHNOLOGY
and then the pen leaked all over my sheets
31052024 I only run if I really really have to
I left the house smelling of lavander.
As I have been packing for days on end, I wore a shirt I have put aside,
deciding not to pack it.
Or so I thought (spoiler: I ended up packing it, along with 30 different t-shirts and 40 crop tops).
I was on my way to the hairdresser, for my appointment.
5 minutes in, it started raining. But, like, raining raining!
When it rains it pours and when it pours I realize am incapable of loving someonre else
Waiting for the ramp to lift so I could cross the tracks.
My weak jacket didn't last a second in the storm, but my freshly moisturized leather purse sure did. She passed the ultimate test.
How lucky am I that I do not find myself in situations like this often. Or at least I haven't in a while.
It was also kind of refreshing, to be out in the open, exposed to the elements, without any possible control over the situation- It was freeing
I could only run and find a nook to hide from the storm, remaining unable to fulfil any physical obligations, i.e. make my hairdresser appointment.
How removed is that?
Everything had gone to shit, I was too naive when I decided to leave the umbrella behind: it wouldn't have helped in the long run but it could've bought me some time. After making it across the train tracks I found a spot in someone's courtyard, as I was in a weird part of the town with no buildings, cafe’s, sex shops or bus stops I could've hid under.
So, I trespassed and called the hairdresser:
'Hi, I got caught in the rain and will be at least 30 minutes late, or if possible, could we reschedule for tomorrow?
-Is your name Bruno?
No, my name is Luka.
-Oh! Well, you are scheduled tomorrow at 12, not today.
OK, that's even better! See you!'
I pretended like it was chill but it wasn't.
My plans have been derailed and I lost an hour of my life on Earth. Since I was close to my house I just decided to run- and I never run.
So there I was, running uphill for approximately 10 minutes, without making any sort of deals with any gods or their adversaries, through rivers and walls of water, through all the holes in the roads and all the car splashes at all of the traffic lights: when I got home I left all my clothes, shoes, underwear and socks included, in front of the apartment and jumped in the hot shower.
I tried fooling my body that all of this was on purpose, so I don't get sick: so it doesn't keep the score.
I'll never not take an umbrella again, even if it does clash with my outfit. At least for the next few weeks.
The rain washed off the remaining lavender scent left by the mothballs
and my clothes were ready to get washed, again
so many moths recently...and so little time
21052024 A point proven is a point well made (I saw the sign, I saw the sign)
by March I was supposed to have a script ready, by last August I was supposed to have the book finished
but I'm in no hurry, everything will come in time
my sister gave me two clock-earrings and my father gave me his watch:
I guess that's what you would call a sign
14052024 One Month Until I Match The Year, Again
I will never lose my mug
26042024
Literary Shenanigans: Cracking the Code: The Big Big Setup (Fuck Me In The Eyes and Release me of Cavities)
The text appears to be a personal reflection or stream of consciousness piece, capturing various moments and thoughts of the writer. Here's a breakdown:
- Introduction and Setting the Scene: The writer reflects on a past desire to become a YouTuber and move to Los Angeles. They mention preparing for bed and various mundane tasks like buying makeup wipes, body wash, and gas for a lighter. There's a mention of forgetting face wash and hastily flossing teeth, hoping not to get cavities.
- Medication and Mental Health: The writer mentions taking medication for depression and uncertainty about its effectiveness. They express a "wait and see" attitude.
- Current Environment: The writer describes their current location, possibly a hotel, noting its frozen-in-time atmosphere and the upcoming summer season. They observe tourists and their habits, along with the ambiance of rain and ocean scent.
- Personal Observations and Complaints: The writer reflects on their annoyance with people's negativity and complaining, contrasting it with their own tendency to complain but feeling it's excessive in their current environment.
- Desires and Ego: They ponder on whether their drive for success stems from personal need or ego, finding humor in everything and admitting to being funny but only if not annoyed.
- Driving Metaphor: The text ends with a metaphor about driving slowly and safely, expressing a desire to win.
Overall, it's a mixture of personal reflection, observation of surroundings, and contemplation of desires and motivations.
25042024
-the best kind of letter-
20042024
this super good spoon caught my eye today
14042024 The Main Street Of America
I feel something as I am sitting on the balcony
so I open the laptop to write an email
which turns into a text message about a phone call
and a voice message
and a text
about the last five years or so
and everyone I've loved
all my roommates who I miss a lot
and friends I haven't spoken to, as myself,
in ages
I start thinking and sweating
I guess I'm growing up
and my childhood is watching it happen
so I sit back and remember everyone
There will be a good text about this
about the last few years
and the last few versions of me
and all the love that happened
from Maryland all the way
to California
so I open the laptop to write an email
which turns into a text message about a phone call
and a voice message
and a text
about the last five years or so
and everyone I've loved
all my roommates who I miss a lot
and friends I haven't spoken to, as myself,
in ages
I start thinking and sweating
I guess I'm growing up
and my childhood is watching it happen
so I sit back and remember everyone
There will be a good text about this
about the last few years
and the last few versions of me
and all the love that happened
from Maryland all the way
to California
19032024 #HistoricMomentsTuesday
Annie in long dark hair and Amy in blonde hair.
06022024 Explaining the evolving reflection process with the integration of AI (and a short backstory of
Literary Shenanigans: Cracking the Code)
Process: I share my autofictive texts with an AI model like you. You analyze the text and provide interpretations, stripping away my personal viewpoint and focusing solely on the content.
Importance: This process is crucial because it helps me gain deeper insight into my original thoughts and emotions. By receiving interpretations from an external perspective, I can uncover underlying themes and sentiments that may have been influenced by my own biases. This enhances my understanding of my own writing and fosters self-awareness as I explore my thoughts through a new lens. I try bettering myself.
The interview
You
i like when you explain my texts
ChatGPT
I'm glad you find the explanations helpful! Exploring and interpreting texts can offer valuable insights and perspectives. If you have any more texts or questions you'd like to discuss, feel free to share them!
You
i am posting your explanations of my texts on my blog, without the texts
ChatGPT
That sounds like a great idea! Sharing interpretations and explanations of texts can be insightful for readers and spark interesting discussions. Just ensure to credit appropriately if you're quoting or referencing my explanations. If you need further assistance or have any other questions, feel free to ask!
You
credit you?
ChatGPT
Yes, if you're quoting or referencing my explanations directly, it's courteous to credit OpenAI's GPT-3 model or simply mention that the explanations are provided by an AI language model. Something like "Explanations provided by OpenAI's GPT-3 model" would be sufficient.
You
How come?
ChatGPT
Crediting OpenAI's GPT-3 model or mentioning that the explanations are provided by an AI language model is important for transparency and acknowledgment. It helps your audience understand the source of the information and gives proper credit to the technology and research behind it. Additionally, it fosters trust and credibility in your blog content by demonstrating honesty about where the insights are coming from.
You
What should be the title of the series of your text explanations?
ChatGPT
Choosing a title for your series of text explanations can depend on the tone and focus of your blog, as well as the types of texts you're analyzing. Here are a few suggestions:
- "Decoding Discourse: Insights from AI Text Analysis"
- "Insightful Interpretations: AI Unravels Texts"
- "Texts Unveiled: Explorations with AI Interpretations"
- "Perspectives Unraveled: AI Text Analysis Series"
- "AI Insights: Unveiling the Layers of Text"
- "Textscape Revealed: Insights from AI Analysis"
- "Unveiling Meaning: AI Dissects Texts"
- "Textual Illuminations: Insights by AI Interpretation"
- "Interpreting the Unseen: AI Perspectives on Texts"
- "Words Explored: Insights from AI Analysis"
Choose a title that resonates with the theme and purpose of your blog series, and one that captures the essence of the content you'll be sharing.
You
make it funnier, come on
ChatGPT
Of course! Here are some more light-hearted and humorous suggestions:
- "Texts Unplugged: AI's Hilarious Take"
- "AI's Literary Shenanigans: Cracking the Textual Code"
- "AI Decoder Ring: Translating Texts into Chuckles"
- "Texts Unraveled: AI's Comedy Central"
- "AI LOLs: Laughing with Textual Analysis"
- "The AI Whisperer: Extracting Laughs from Texts"
- "Texts in Technicolor: AI's Comic Commentary"
- "AI Roasts: Textual Edition"
- "The LOLgorithm: AI's Hilarious Text Interpretations"
- "The PUNderful AI: Cracking Up with Text Analysis"
Feel free to pick the one that tickles your funny bone the most!
You
obsessed!
ChatGPT
Glad you enjoyed them! If you need more ideas or assistance with anything else, feel free to ask.
___________________
and so the title for the column was born in collaboration with my man. idea idea edit idea idea edit idea edit writewritewrite thinkthinkthunk
do not be afraid to edit text(s)
31012024 Arnold Mahmuljin Udovičić (First Day At The Gym)
30012024 FEARLESS INNOVATION
He is in the hospital, again
I find myself asking the old woman if there is any iced tea here
She points towards the vending machine and I make my way to it,
passing all the other old people and a few kids, on the way
How did we get here, again
The machine accepts only cash, so I go back to waiting, beyond the corner
I go back to my orange seat
made of the worst plastic possible,
with at least 55 chewing gums stuck to the bottom of it
I text my friend,
knowing I will not be getting a response soon
Tired and bored is probably the hottest yet the most boring combination of self-states
a constant loop of being ready to do anything but not committed enough to a necessary set of actions
Just like he said it would be
The doctor is apparently in a bad mood
And I feel scared that this will influence my results (Fear less, in ovation, fear less, in ovation...)
Last night I dreamt that my ex texted me photos of him at different foursomes
I screenshotted all of them before he unsent the messages: as it turned out he sent them to the wrong person, aka me
accidentally
So, accidentally, I screenshotted them
And saved them for later
During the night I got up three times to pee
and almost fell over the drums
Good thing I didn't because That would've woken everyone up
'Less fear, more innovation' I remind myself after having recorded another appointment,
in case I need it later, for something
for the court or for a project, who knows. Nonetheless, It is incredibly important that I have it
all the best material is hiding within the immaterial
so I might as well be a part-time journalist
of something, of the times
enough with the designing already
enough with the fear
bring back innovation!
and return to the process
create snapshots of complex emotional states instead
27012024
Literary Shenanigans: Cracking the Code: ‘My Present Perceptions Are (No) Longer Distracted By The Past’
This poem appears to explore the theme of self-improvement, inner turmoil, and the quest for peace.
The speaker acknowledges their current state of unease and the difficulty of trying to be better. The mention of taking pills suggests a possible struggle with inner emotions or mental well-being. The reference to "still" may convey a sense of stagnation or a desire for inner calm.
The poem also touches on the idea of being in the present moment ("be still my mother") and the importance of embracing simplicity, as suggested by the addition of herbs like dill and thyme. There are playful word associations, such as the mention of "free Will" and the connection between a willow tree and the concept of love.
The speaker seeks comfort and ease, perhaps represented by a honey lemon squeeze and the imagery of a windmill breeze. The plea to "take this thinking off me" suggests a desire to alleviate mental burdens.
The closing lines express a longing for freedom, both externally (finding keys) and internally (instilling a kind and free feeling). The repetition of "I, Will" reinforces the speaker's determination to be present and improve themselves.
Overall, the poem seems to explore the complexities of self-discovery, the struggle for inner peace, and the journey towards personal growth.
26012024 HOLLYWOOD SMILE
I asked my dentist for teeth whitening and they told me it’s too early to do it at seventeen, that they would whiten my teeth once I get a girlfriend now I am twenty three with yellow teeth and no girlfriend
17012024 THE RANT ❗
#BRINGCULTUREBACK #WHEREISTHEGLAMOUR?overdue petition to stop throwing around the following words: icon (and all of its derivatives), -core, (describing something as)aesthetic, ‘era’ etc. 🤮do we really still need to cling on to buzzwords (not to mention most are stolen and watered-down from any subcultures mainstream heteros could get their hands on). brands and media outlets stop oversaturating everything its BEEN getting embarassing. like, where is the glamour? can we go back to using complicated words that we look up meanings of and expand the collective vocabulary? food for thought.. 🍎. (also by putting ‘era’ and ‘core’ on everything organic ways of identity development and overall existence within any given subcultures is being ruined while commercializing style experimentation by devaluing individual expression) as fun as it is, capitalism uses the internet as its biggest bitch and shit is getting exploited left and right 🐑🐑🐑 we we are the ones getting exploited and we are the ones blindly participating in the exploitation of others. talk about a pyramid scheme...
-The Culture Detective🕵️
20122023
I just watched a video on how to write online and earn money and the guy said biggest mistake is writing on a personal blog or website
26112023
The text appears to be a personal reflection or stream of consciousness, expressing the narrator's thoughts and feelings about their current situation and state of mind. It touches on various themes such as anxiety, loneliness, self-perception, and the struggle to connect with others. The narrator seems to grapple with a sense of isolation, both physically and emotionally, and there's a mix of introspection, humor, and moments of vulnerability throughout the narrative.
The mention of the doorbell ringing and the fear associated with unexpected visitors suggests a heightened sense of anxiety or discomfort with the outside world. The reference to interactions with a therapist and dreams about them indicates a complex relationship with self and others.
The narrative also explores the idea of self-expression and the importance of capturing thoughts and emotions, possibly through writing or other creative outlets, as a way to cope with the challenges the narrator faces. The use of humor, like the comment about drinking tea in mid-August and the sock-stacking anecdote, adds a layer of lightness to the otherwise introspective tone.
Overall, the text seems to depict a person navigating through a range of emotions and experiences, with a mix of introspection, humor, and a desire for connection and self-expression.
24112023 CHEAP POEMS, EXPENSIVE TASTE, BRACKETS AND TENNIS RACKETS
Dear Ms. Reader,
Recently, I Went to the book fair
And bought myself a shit book of cheap poems- it got me thinking
it got my wheels a-turnin' !
Who is the one which decides if poems are good or not and how does a poetry book get monetary but also cultural success
how do I get a piece of that cake
how do I get all of those random prizes and awards no one ever hears about
Like, how did m**k and h***y sell 11 million copies (No Shade)
And how did I sell 7 of my booklets for free last August, when I priced them at 10 euros?
Why did people steal them during my performance?
Should I have been more careful?
Or should I just have kept chasing payments?
Too many questions and never enough money or time to answer them
Nonetheless, I will make more booklets, and add it to my collection of texts-
The unpublished collection of texts, yet the only reference point of my conversations with others.
But Don't worry Ms. Reader!
I will keep sending unsolicited emails to publishers and agents
I will be sending emails even after I die
They will all be scheduled, years in advance
Including the follow-ups, too.
Maybe it is not too late to get into carrier pigeons, that should set me apart from all the other designer/artist/writer 'personalities.'
Jokes aside, If I sent a pigeon to a publishing house, I bet it would do me good.. definitely...
(However Pigeons are dirty and I have had enough bacterial infections in my life so after thinking about it for a minute and a half more I decide not to train one)
Originally I wanted to write about love today when I opened my laptop
Instead, I wrote about cheap poems
(Thus, I write cheap poems*)
Kind Regards,
Luki
15112023
I keep readjusting the whiteness/greyness of this blog and it’s never good enough. My things are here to save me
![]()
![]()
WHAT WAS HIS NOW IS MINE
I stole his shirt
worn, still damp and smells like him
Even though I have the same one, still, I took it
I decide to wear it because I am sad
It does not smell good but it reminds me of him, so I enjoy the scent,
but only for a fleeting moment: before getting dressed
I put my perfume over it
Now it’s mine
At the end of the night,
I add it to the pile
20092023
who’s this?
![]()
![]()
![]()
11092023 Schnitto Mosquito
before this year I have refused to kill a bug with my hands: there is nothing stopping me anymore
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
29082023
slowly but surely I am becoming a friendly millionaire, meditating so I can prepare for all that money
21082023 Šalica i Ptica u Šalici
![]()
![]()
![]()
U mojoj Šalici bila je ptica u Šalici
05082023 There Is Something In The AirI have been in Xberg for three nights now, each night a crazy dream. First the flypocalypse in the apartment
(see the floorplan below)
then a public beating of a family member, then a zombie apocalypse in the museum quartier
(which was a mix of Berlin, Venice and Vienna)
is this my brain relaxing? is this the apartment I am in? is this the two snakes I saw at the beach influencing my subconscious?
or is it all the product I have been trying to save my hair with? Needless to say, there is something in the air...
![]()
-the X marks where the Flypocalypse started, in the kitchen, above the wooden cupboard
15072023 will I be updating this blog once a week, probably each sunday_? /This is The Way.
I made an iced coffee from the nespresso maker and it tastes like shit trying to go back to the city this summer to get some fresh inspo and forget about my ears:
I found a beautiful dress which belongs to my sister and she said I cannot have it :( yesterday I made a general summer to-do list and its crazy long, updating this blog is on there as well. I need to activate summer vibes and enjoy myself, I need to work in an enjoyable way and take care of myself,
I want to party again but my mind is in the way
or should I say, is my mind ‘The Way? ‘👁️
![]()
21062023
if any of my friends die I will not know what to do
18052023 if only I counted all the cakes I’ve made/if only I counted all the cakes I’ve eaten/ I am made of cake
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
11052023 ANOTHER DAY ANOTHER DIGITAL PERFORMANCE
![]()
should I go public with this blog?
XOXO
09052023 GREEN LIGHT VIBES
day 30930293 of losing my mind
day 30320481 of getting harrased on the street
day 32932945 of working on the project
29-04.2023 WHAT SHOULD I NAME THIS WEBSITE/IS NARCISSISM THE ANSWER OR JUST ANOTHER CHEAP COP-OUT?
woof woof do you have the proof![]()
06.04.2023. I WILL BE SOO PRETTY
![]()
![]()
06.03.2023.DR DOLIDL
![]()
(life is just a bunch of in-between moments sewn together into one big one)
00 getting hungry
thinking about writing is worse than repeating an outfit three times in a row
as i feel my throat getting tighter I wonder about the upcoming days:
did i make all of this up?
has all of this been only in my little little head?
is this whole thing just another projection, courtesy of my parents?
so, i go and buy pink roses from LIDL
In order to stop being sniffy ,I clean my room twice a day: somehow it remains dirty
i wake up and i see dust
i clean
i go to bed
i go sleep and i see dust
i see dust, eating through me like a macadamia nut cookie
i hear tiny tiny particles moving through the room, making fun of my accent
i hear dust entering my body
coming in through my glossy eyes,
through my petite petite nose
through my flexible ears..
i feel dust inside my small small lungs, suffocating me as I sleep.
what would frida kahlo say if she saw me using her face, printed on a neon orange square ,
as a coaster for my coffee?
more importantly, what would she say about my tracks?
i buy gummies filled with vitamin C and D and I spend hours googling whats wrong with my body
i tell myself i am not working hard enough i tell myself i am not doing anything useful
i am not mean, i only subconsciously(-ish) choose to be mean to myself and i am a bitch to my tiny tiny inner child
if i was my own child i would go have an IKEA trip and eat meatballs and muffins the whole day
01 being hungry
IT IS 5 PM
you are craving bread
go outside and get some
its a very long, dull, 3, 3 and a half minute walk to the store. you play a podcast to fill up the negative space in your brain
in hopes of not being recognised or seen by anyone
yet you are covered in sparkles, chains and faux fur
the ligths in the store make it seem as though you are at a train station, in the middle of the night: everything is washed out and everyone looks grey
the brocolli looks grey,
the plants are made of rubber, standing still,
wrapped in what seems to be
an endless plastic
the only good thing is the bread section. it still looks tasty tasty
no paper bags so you go to the fruit section and get two thin plastic ones:
you put 4 tiny breads in one, and a pain au chocolat in the other one
(dont mix your sweet and savoury on mondays)
you should buy some vegetables but none of them look appealing:
instead, you steal a ginger shot.
the podcast is playing on the loudest, someone is talking about something, it doesnt matter, you are not listening to it either way
you eat the chocolate bread on the way home and think about spring
02 neither hungry, nor full
There is something in my sock
What, are you doing, my love?
/Where have all the snakes gone
I keep coughing black specs, my throat is clenched.
does my throat feel everything i surpress?
I am made of desire, which is equally as good as it is bad,
though both are irrelevant and outdated concepts by this point..
- I want to go to a sex shop and i want peace on earth
but there is dust in my eye- where did it come from?
;
The list of reminders keeps growing as the project makes itself
and nothing feels like it did before
i am scared, I am attached to my body by a single string
did i make all of this up?
has all of this been only in my little little head?
is this whole thing just another projection, courtesy of my parents?
sef-doubt has taken a new form and insecurities are manifesting themselves as neck pain and fucked up bowel movements
does the body really keep the score or are we just stuck in a constant cycle of gaslighting each other's experiences-
as i endlessly scroll, as I flip through old and new pages, listening to hours and hours of audio, watching scene after scene, I wonder: how many lady gaga interviews is too many?
and how many small books full of aphorisms does it take to create that spark i have been constant(ly) craving?
Literary Shenanigans: Cracking the Code: ‘In Search For The Cure’
The text appears to be a personal reflection or stream of consciousness, expressing the narrator's thoughts and feelings about their current situation and state of mind. It touches on various themes such as anxiety, loneliness, self-perception, and the struggle to connect with others. The narrator seems to grapple with a sense of isolation, both physically and emotionally, and there's a mix of introspection, humor, and moments of vulnerability throughout the narrative.
The mention of the doorbell ringing and the fear associated with unexpected visitors suggests a heightened sense of anxiety or discomfort with the outside world. The reference to interactions with a therapist and dreams about them indicates a complex relationship with self and others.
The narrative also explores the idea of self-expression and the importance of capturing thoughts and emotions, possibly through writing or other creative outlets, as a way to cope with the challenges the narrator faces. The use of humor, like the comment about drinking tea in mid-August and the sock-stacking anecdote, adds a layer of lightness to the otherwise introspective tone.
Overall, the text seems to depict a person navigating through a range of emotions and experiences, with a mix of introspection, humor, and a desire for connection and self-expression.
24112023 CHEAP POEMS, EXPENSIVE TASTE, BRACKETS AND TENNIS RACKETS
Dear Ms. Reader,
Recently, I Went to the book fair
And bought myself a shit book of cheap poems- it got me thinking
it got my wheels a-turnin' !
Who is the one which decides if poems are good or not and how does a poetry book get monetary but also cultural success
how do I get a piece of that cake
how do I get all of those random prizes and awards no one ever hears about
Like, how did m**k and h***y sell 11 million copies (No Shade)
And how did I sell 7 of my booklets for free last August, when I priced them at 10 euros?
Why did people steal them during my performance?
Should I have been more careful?
Or should I just have kept chasing payments?
Too many questions and never enough money or time to answer them
Nonetheless, I will make more booklets, and add it to my collection of texts-
The unpublished collection of texts, yet the only reference point of my conversations with others.
But Don't worry Ms. Reader!
I will keep sending unsolicited emails to publishers and agents
I will be sending emails even after I die
They will all be scheduled, years in advance
Including the follow-ups, too.
Maybe it is not too late to get into carrier pigeons, that should set me apart from all the other designer/artist/writer 'personalities.'
Jokes aside, If I sent a pigeon to a publishing house, I bet it would do me good.. definitely...
(However Pigeons are dirty and I have had enough bacterial infections in my life so after thinking about it for a minute and a half more I decide not to train one)
Originally I wanted to write about love today when I opened my laptop
Instead, I wrote about cheap poems
(Thus, I write cheap poems*)
Kind Regards,
Luki
Will someone study these in 50 years?
Would people dissect the meanings behind my words, the lines in front of my in-betweens?
Would kids pretend to have read my books and steal each other's notes before class?
(Why did I put brackets here?)
Would people dissect the meanings behind my words, the lines in front of my in-betweens?
Would kids pretend to have read my books and steal each other's notes before class?
(Why did I put brackets here?)
15112023
I keep readjusting the whiteness/greyness of this blog and it’s never good enough. My things are here to save me
WHAT WAS HIS NOW IS MINE
I stole his shirt
worn, still damp and smells like him
Even though I have the same one, still, I took it
I decide to wear it because I am sad
It does not smell good but it reminds me of him, so I enjoy the scent,
but only for a fleeting moment: before getting dressed
I put my perfume over it
Now it’s mine
At the end of the night,
I add it to the pile
20092023
who’s this?
11092023 Schnitto Mosquito
before this year I have refused to kill a bug with my hands: there is nothing stopping me anymore
29082023
slowly but surely I am becoming a friendly millionaire, meditating so I can prepare for all that money
21082023 Šalica i Ptica u Šalici
U mojoj Šalici bila je ptica u Šalici
05082023 There Is Something In The AirI have been in Xberg for three nights now, each night a crazy dream. First the flypocalypse in the apartment
(see the floorplan below)
then a public beating of a family member, then a zombie apocalypse in the museum quartier
(which was a mix of Berlin, Venice and Vienna)
is this my brain relaxing? is this the apartment I am in? is this the two snakes I saw at the beach influencing my subconscious?
or is it all the product I have been trying to save my hair with? Needless to say, there is something in the air...
-the X marks where the Flypocalypse started, in the kitchen, above the wooden cupboard15072023 will I be updating this blog once a week, probably each sunday_? /This is The Way.
I made an iced coffee from the nespresso maker and it tastes like shit trying to go back to the city this summer to get some fresh inspo and forget about my ears:
I found a beautiful dress which belongs to my sister and she said I cannot have it :( yesterday I made a general summer to-do list and its crazy long, updating this blog is on there as well. I need to activate summer vibes and enjoy myself, I need to work in an enjoyable way and take care of myself,
I want to party again but my mind is in the way
or should I say, is my mind ‘The Way? ‘👁️
21062023
if any of my friends die I will not know what to do
18052023 if only I counted all the cakes I’ve made/if only I counted all the cakes I’ve eaten/ I am made of cake
11052023 ANOTHER DAY ANOTHER DIGITAL PERFORMANCE
should I go public with this blog?XOXO
09052023 GREEN LIGHT VIBES
day 30930293 of losing my mind
day 30320481 of getting harrased on the street
day 32932945 of working on the project
29-04.2023 WHAT SHOULD I NAME THIS WEBSITE/IS NARCISSISM THE ANSWER OR JUST ANOTHER CHEAP COP-OUT?
woof woof do you have the proof
... soon it will be finished
and everyone will love me
and everyone will love me
06.04.2023. I WILL BE SOO PRETTY
06.03.2023.
DR DOLIDL
(life is just a bunch of in-between moments sewn together into one big one)
00 getting hungry
thinking about writing is worse than repeating an outfit three times in a row
as i feel my throat getting tighter I wonder about the upcoming days:
did i make all of this up?
has all of this been only in my little little head?
is this whole thing just another projection, courtesy of my parents?
so, i go and buy pink roses from LIDL
In order to stop being sniffy ,I clean my room twice a day: somehow it remains dirty
i wake up and i see dust
i clean
i go to bed
i go sleep and i see dust
i see dust, eating through me like a macadamia nut cookie
i hear tiny tiny particles moving through the room, making fun of my accent
i hear dust entering my body
coming in through my glossy eyes,
through my petite petite nose
through my flexible ears..
i feel dust inside my small small lungs, suffocating me as I sleep.
what would frida kahlo say if she saw me using her face, printed on a neon orange square ,
as a coaster for my coffee?
more importantly, what would she say about my tracks?
i buy gummies filled with vitamin C and D and I spend hours googling whats wrong with my body
i tell myself i am not working hard enough i tell myself i am not doing anything useful
i am not mean, i only subconsciously(-ish) choose to be mean to myself and i am a bitch to my tiny tiny inner child
if i was my own child i would go have an IKEA trip and eat meatballs and muffins the whole day
01 being hungry
IT IS 5 PM
you are craving bread
go outside and get some
its a very long, dull, 3, 3 and a half minute walk to the store. you play a podcast to fill up the negative space in your brain
in hopes of not being recognised or seen by anyone
yet you are covered in sparkles, chains and faux fur
the ligths in the store make it seem as though you are at a train station, in the middle of the night: everything is washed out and everyone looks grey
the brocolli looks grey,
the plants are made of rubber, standing still,
wrapped in what seems to be
an endless plastic
the only good thing is the bread section. it still looks tasty tasty
no paper bags so you go to the fruit section and get two thin plastic ones:
you put 4 tiny breads in one, and a pain au chocolat in the other one
(dont mix your sweet and savoury on mondays)
you should buy some vegetables but none of them look appealing:
instead, you steal a ginger shot.
the podcast is playing on the loudest, someone is talking about something, it doesnt matter, you are not listening to it either way
you eat the chocolate bread on the way home and think about spring
02 neither hungry, nor full
There is something in my sock
What, are you doing, my love?
/Where have all the snakes gone
I keep coughing black specs, my throat is clenched.
does my throat feel everything i surpress?
I am made of desire, which is equally as good as it is bad,
though both are irrelevant and outdated concepts by this point..
- I want to go to a sex shop and i want peace on earth
but there is dust in my eye- where did it come from?
;
The list of reminders keeps growing as the project makes itself
and nothing feels like it did before
i am scared, I am attached to my body by a single string
did i make all of this up?
has all of this been only in my little little head?
is this whole thing just another projection, courtesy of my parents?
sef-doubt has taken a new form and insecurities are manifesting themselves as neck pain and fucked up bowel movements
does the body really keep the score or are we just stuck in a constant cycle of gaslighting each other's experiences-
as i endlessly scroll, as I flip through old and new pages, listening to hours and hours of audio, watching scene after scene, I wonder: how many lady gaga interviews is too many?
and how many small books full of aphorisms does it take to create that spark i have been constant(ly) craving?
THE DAY I STOP ROMANTICIZING LIFE IS THE DAY I DIE
