Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Sometimes I wish I were good enough to express my thoughts through words. If I were a writer I would just exile them from my mind. Nevertheless, I am not a writer. Thus, every single piece of mind stagnates. It rottens within. It slashes within. Internally bleeding. There is nothing but traces of sanity.

If I were a writer, I would kill my thoughts and that strange force which transforms them into emotions. If I were a writer, my thoughts and emotions would live through words, not through me.

But what truly happens is that I wake up sweating. Breathing becomes impossible. My emotions asfixiate me. And I keep thinking, 'If only I were a writer....'

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:52 PM


Monday, August 30, 2004


Sunday, August 29, 2004

Although life happens to me differently, I do not need to jump from the tenth floor of a building to know that my bones and my skull would most likely break.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:52 PM


Saturday, August 28, 2004


A declares his/her love to B

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 9:16 PM


Friday, August 27, 2004

Empty days... 


Thursday, August 26, 2004


Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Need I say more?

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 9:26 PM


Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Do I look as if I were five years old? 

People appear to be very interested in knowing what I am going to do with my life & why. They ask if I have a boyfriend; they ask if / when I am going to get married; they ask if I like what I study; they ask if I have a religion. They ask incessantly.

Admittedly, I do not have a problem with their questions as much as I do with their opinions on my opinions. Although having convictions might be a lot easier than living up to them, I believe not only I have convictions but I also follow them as much as I can. Call me naive but I believe I can actually decide what I am, what that 'I' can do, and why. So, why do people treat me as though I were too young to know anything about anything?

I am 26 years old!

How old do I need to be to know what I expect out of my existence? 50? 60? 70? When am I going to be old enough for them to respect my choices?

'Tis not the first time I say this and it might not be the last one, "I am not a five year old girl who needs an adult to remove the wrapping from her lollipop. Either if I decide to use my hands, or my teeth to get rid of the wrapping, is none of your business."

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 9:20 PM


Monday, August 23, 2004

"All my life, I have lived with the feeling that I have been kept from my true place. If the expression 'metaphysical exile' had no meaning, my existence alone would afford it one."

~Emile Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:36 PM


Sunday, August 22, 2004



Saturday, August 21, 2004


Friday, August 20, 2004

[Blinks. Sighs. Rolls her eyes. Sighs again.

Does not dance.

Wishes she could crawl under the table.]

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 9:36 PM


Thursday, August 19, 2004


Wednesday, August 18, 2004


Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Random Thoughts Du Jour 

Neither I am your fan, nor your groupie. I just happened to enjoy the time we all spent together.


What are friends for? Excuse my ignorance but I simply cannot understand what you are for.

Is a friend someone to behold? Someone who does not have time for you? If so, I do not want a friend. I prefer someone who talks to me, who listens to me, who enjoys my presence, who tolerates my intolerance. Someone who understands my allergy to life and my allergy to people. So far that friend appears to be Mirrimause...my cat.


Loneliness is my only friend. When there is no other human body around, she is always there to be with me. When there is a human body around, she remains in silence. She just stares. When I am all alone again, she comes back to me. No questions, no regrets, no hard feelings.


I do not really understand your philosophy but I do not have to. Most likely I would disagree with you anyway. I do not give a damn because I am not interested in learning philosophies condemned to remain in my head. You—as a person—are a fallacy in my logic. Thus, you will never live through me. I am ad hominem like that.


If vulgarity is in then I want to be out.


Human object. That is my diagnosis. That is what you are.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:04 PM


Monday, August 16, 2004

"Music makes one feel so romantic - at least it always gets on one's nerves - which is the same thing nowadays."

~Oscar Wilde

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:30 PM


Sunday, August 15, 2004

Immortality Recipe 

1 Writer

1000 Oz. of love

1 Teaspoon of memories

1 Heartbreaker

10 Pieces of pain

10 Nights of despair

After finding a writer it is necessary to put him inside a trust bowl. Macerate him in a friendship sauce. Cover the bowl with a possessive cloth, and keep it in a warm place for a couple of months. Once macerated spice it up with 500 oz. of love. Add the teaspoon of memories. Put the whole mixture in a silver tray and cut his flesh to insert the 10 pieces of pain. Decorate with the 10 nights of despair and put it into the oven. Leave it for a couple of days and the image of you embedded in his mind will start cooking him from within. The heat will be enough for him to write about the chef; about the heartbreaker. The flavor of words found in this dish will most likely last forever; so will you.


I love you for the same reason I breathe: because I have to.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:37 PM


Saturday, August 14, 2004

The Girl with Many Eyes 


Friday, August 13, 2004

Sick, sick... 

...so completely sick.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:19 PM


Thursday, August 12, 2004

Four Rooms 


Goddess Diana, fail you I will.
I was to bring you fresh sperm from my Bill.
I had him erect and his semen would follow.
Alas, I was hot. So hot that I swallowed.


Ted the Bellhop:

I'm in a situation I can't begin to explain


Problem? I haven't got a problem. I've got fucking problems. Plural!


Well, most recently, there's room 309, there's this scary Mexican gangster dude poking his finger in my chest. There's his hooligan kids snapping their fingers at me. There's a putrid, rotting corpse of a dead whore stuck in the springs of the bed. There's rooms blazing afire. There's a big fat needle from God knows where, stuck in my leg, infecting me with God knows what. And finally there's me, walking out the door, right fucking now. Buenas noches!

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 5:16 PM


Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Blueprints for a future... 

The future you and I have planned for ourselves does not have to be the same. Your future and my future may witness a fallen construction. It might be your irrational one or it might be my rational contradicting one. Either way, you build yours and I will build mine. In the end, we will see which one resists the eternal uncertainty.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 5:06 PM


Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Because I am not 'a' living contradiction... 

...but 'the' living contradiction.
Contradiction's persona.

"I disentangle myself from appearances, yet I am snarled in them nonetheless; or rather: I am halfway between these appearances and that which invalidates them, that which has neither name nor content, that which is nothing and everything. I shall never take the decisive step outside them; my nature forces me to drift, to remain forever in the equivocal, and if I were to attempt a clean break in one direction or the other, I should perish by my salvation."

~Emile Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 3:59 PM


Monday, August 09, 2004


"To think that so many have succeeded in dying!"

Emil Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born


Very sick.
Cannot breathe.
Who knows?
I just might die this time.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:06 AM


Sunday, August 08, 2004

I'm Nobody! Who are you?  

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you--Nobody--too?
Then there's a pair of us?
Don't tell! they'd advertise--you know!

How dreary--to be--Somebody!
How public--like a Frog--
To tell one's name--the livelong June--
To an admiring Bog!

~Emily Dickinson

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:38 PM


Saturday, August 07, 2004

Ecce Bestia 

A gorgeous dog. He was so beautiful. Golden. His eyes begging for some empathy. They appear constantly in my mind. At first, I thought he was trying to stand up. His rear legs were pushing very hard. I still thought he was just trying to stand up.

He was looking at me and I could not understand why he would not come to me. It is not as though I were going to hurt him. I only wanted to play with him and give him a candy.

After a few minutes I realized why he would not come to me. His rear legs were broken. So was my heart. Why would anyone have hurt him? Why? It could have been a car but it was not. In the back I heard the voice of a man bragging about what he had just done. In his hands: a baseball bat.

All I could think of,

"You are lucky I do not have a gun in my hands. Otherwise, you would already have a bullet between your eyes. People like you do not deserve to live. You are not an animal. Animals would never find any pleasure in hurting other fellow beings. You are not as a rock. Rocks do not move. You are not as dirt. Dirt can be easily cleaned. You are even worse than horror itself. You do not deserve to live. Your ignorance is not an excuse. Were it up to me, I would have already taken care of the misery that it is to be you. Dogs, cats, horses, donkeys, mules, and other animals need the oxygen you are using. Stop breathing."

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 4:56 PM


Friday, August 06, 2004

And I am still waiting... 

For what?

For this.


Existence: After all the ups and downs, after all the ins and outs, and after all the backs and forths I am actually surprised you have not decided to exile yourself to the Kingdom of Oblivion.

Consciousness: Many have been the reasons for a psychogenic fugue.; in F minor, of course. Nevertheless, I am the one who is not surprised anymore. If humans have conceived a magnificent idea such as a 'God', 'love' might be another concept as well. Sadly, just another concept destined to remain in the realms of what can be possibly conceived and imagined, but impossible to take into a practical reality.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:10 AM


Thursday, August 05, 2004

Some reconstructions do not hurt.
Some others do and this one is the sort that does.
I think I need glue. Tremendous amounts of glue.


"To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost."

~Gustave Flaubert

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:30 AM


Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Let's pretend I can actually travel without myself... 

In two hours I will be on a plane to somewhere. My shadow and I have already decided she is staying home. Let's see if that makes the load less heavy.

As for my inner self, she refused to stay. No matter where I go, she always wants to go. In a little while I will try to confuse her. If she falls asleep before I leave then I will be able to escape from my 'self'. Even if it is only for a week....

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 12:29 AM


Tuesday, August 03, 2004

Just because...? 

To be honest I have never understood that type of thinking. Doing anything 'just because'. Nevertheless, if you feel better about yourself by thinking I take myself too seriously or that I am a highly stiff bitch, go ahead.

It is true anyway.

Fortunately, I am the complicated sort of gal. Not that your tiny brain can actually understand that and not that my serious sort of brain nor my serious sort of ass cares either way. My unhappiness makes me happy. I do not like having fun, so what? I like darkness. I do not like pink bunnies and I do not like birds singing.

They just wake me up.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 9:50 PM


Monday, August 02, 2004

Right now I am having one of my widely known 'misery attacks'. Some people have called them 'depression'. Some others 'negativity'. A few, 'stupidity'. I prefer to call them 'awareness'. It is at times like this when I realize I have nothing and I am nothing. I am so completely full of shit. Or absolutely empty, which from my insignificant opinion is almost the same. Nevertheless, I am about everything but pessimism. So please do not insult me and my useless intelligence.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 4:49 PM


Lines embedded in my mind... 

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

Clementine: Joel, I'm not a concept. Too many guys think I'm a concept or I complete them or I'm going to make them alive, but I'm just a fucked up girl who is looking for my own peace of mind. Don't assign me yours.


Clementine: Look man, I'm telling you right off the bat I'm high maintenance. So I'm not gonna tip-toe around your marriage or whatever it is ya got goin' on there. If you wanna be with me, you're with me.


Clementine: Drink up, young man. It'll make the whole seduction part less repugnant.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 12:08 PM


Sunday, August 01, 2004


The few encounters I have had throughout my life with the convex gender have been quite unorthodox. Although I have never believed there is truly an essential difference between convexities and concavities [and despite my awareness over an opposite operating system prevailing in both], there is an absolute and irreconcilable purpose to our joint.

There was a time when I thought incompabilites between us were due to my obliqueness. Now I have come to realize that our antagonism might owe its origin to my askew nature. Sadly, the convexities that have introduced themselves to me, can offer me nothing but graphical fulfillment.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:42 AM


"I know I'll say something that's halfway clever but mostly shallow and probably inaccurate on some level. Then you'll pity me for having been born."

Don DeLillo, Cosmopolis

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