Lars Von Recycle, frenchies

This post was written on a Saturday evening, while spending the Weekend with my wider family.
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A bit of morning melancholy.

A bit of afternoon melancholy.

A bit of evening melancholy.

I hate and love the peacefulness of weekends at the same time.

The demeaning and uncomfortable family tea parties.

Visiting my grandpa’s grave.

I don’t get a rest on weekends nor workdays, though weekends feel, as if nothing is happening.

There’s just shit going on on workdays.

Weekends are calm, slow, boring, tiring.

It’s peculiar how weather affects the way people feel.

The sky is surrounded by dark gray clouds.

Only in one place the clouds are torn apart by the bright and shiny sun, trying to make its way down to the world of us, simple mortals.

Nothing seems to be working out quite the way I planned.

I know some of the plans were rather simple-minded and desperate, not likely to work.

But some things – I tried to do the best way I could.

I mean most of the things that really matter in my life is okay.

But the daily petty little problems are overwhelming and seemingly endless.

Some things I’ve always taken for granted are falling apart know.

From small things – my goddamned wifi router doesn’t work (that’s why I’m writing this offline).

To stuff that actually matters – I used to be used to being successful at everything I wanted. In certain matters, this makes the taste of loss even more bitter.

Anyway, go and watch Lars Von Trier’s Melancholia.

It’s a great thing. You literally don’t know what the movie will be about until its end.

And for some of those horny little punks out there: completely naked Kirsten Dunst is there.