A Diary of Dreams...

To all my old friends, To all my new friends, To the people I just met, To all those close and far, To my online friends, To my sources of inspiration, For the wonderful year it's been. For the laughs, the tears, the pain and happiness. Next year will be even better. Nothing can stand in our way! Reminiscent, scared, living in memories, tanzende bis zum Morgengrauen and whatnot else Replica

After some time spent with Anya and Vicious, I figured I have far too great plans for that story than to let it linger somewhere in between all the other posts, so I moved it to its own address: Rock'n'Roll Souls . Please make sure to check that blog for new parts of the story. As of today all parts so far (1-5) are available there. No more parts will be published here. Lost in Someone's Eyes, Replica

The cigarette touches your lips. It’s the gentle, poisonous kiss that we both crave. A little part of me gets jealous because it’s not my lips touching yours. A little part of me gets glad because it’s not my lips touching yours. I grab the half-wrecked and almost done for box of cigarettes and even though I don’t want to smoke, I go out just to be there and watch your deadly dance, as I do mine. “Can I have a light?” My voice sounds ragged, tired, sleepless, excited, intoxicated, dreamy… Your eyes meet mine and I feel like Alice, falling down the Rabbit Hole. That deep indefinable blue-green gaze only you have throws me in a sea so deep, I can never be saved from. I smile gently as I reach for the light in your hand and innocently brush my fingers across your hand. You flinch for a second and your eyes dart to our hands, to the barely-there, barely visible dance of seduction. I lick my lips on a slow, soft motion, as I move the cigarette up to my mouth, then your muscles tense a

Обичам да ме вали дъжда, когато съм до теб и се усмихваш. Обичам да ме вали дъжда, когато съм до теб и се усмихваш. Обичам да заспивам до теб и да чувствам как ти заспиваш до мен. Обичам да целувам теб, да усещам устните ти близо до моите. Обичам да се будя до теб и да виждам как ти се будиш до мен. Обичам да целувам теб, да прегръщам теб, да обичам теб. Обичам да ме вали дъжда, когато съм до теб и се усмихваш. Обичам да се любя с теб и да чувствам как ти се любиш с мен. Обичам да докосвам теб така, както не съм докосвал никога. Обичам да сънувам теб, да усещам как ти сънуваш мен. Обичам да се смея с теб, да прегръщам теб, да обичам теб. Обичам да ме вали дъжда, когато съм до теб и се усмихваш. Да, обичам теб... Обичам да ме вали дъжда, когато съм до теб и се усмихваш.

Almost a decade later, our love is still as strong and as beautiful. I can never thank you enough. "Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all [...] You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never [...] Be calm - love me - today - yesterday [...] Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved. Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours." Ludwig Van Beethoven 30.11.2010 Replica

England Cynthia grunted in disgust as she saw the rain pouring outside the airport in London. I wasn’t particularly fond of it either, but my mind was preoccupied. We arrived over an hour ago and there was supposed to be a private car to pick us up, get us to our hotel and drive us around wherever we wanted to, but there was still no sign of it. Cynthia was on the verge of her patience and I could see her eyes darting to the cigarette shop nearby. She quit smoking years ago, but I can imagine how nervous she was right now. Hell, I could use a smoke too. So we headed there, bought a pack of cigarettes and headed outside to smoke. “Fucking rock stars and their fucking fashionably late trends!” There was no way in heaven or on earth that you could make this woman hold her tongue once she got pissed off. Especially not when it comes to rock stars. “What do you think will the story be?” “About the song? They’ll probably come up with something ridiculous that no one will believe. The more im

Кажи обичаш ли ме още? Кажи, обичаш ли ме още? След толкова години вече… Еднакви дни… Еднакви нощи… И стар… и грозен… и объркан… И нямащ време, нямащ време… Кажи, обичаш ли ме още… Кажи ми, дявол да го вземе. Недей мълча… Не се преструвай, че ти е все едно отдавна. Ах, битката ни бе жестока, но точно затова пък славна. Две кучета… И остри зъби… И пак съвместно съществуват. И не разбираш в крайна сметка ръмжат ли или се целуват. Кажи обичаш ли ме още? Дори да кажеш „не” – кажи го. И напиши го, размножи го на ксерокс или със индиго. Раздай го на света, пръсни го от самолет като реклама как имало любов, която сега я няма… няма… няма… Но има… има… има… знам го. И ти го знаеш безусловно. Тя съществува нелегално, прикрито, тайно и съдбовно… Натаралежена, сърдита… как искам аз да я погаля… Но тя като бодлива топка по стръмнината се търкаля. И тъй… Аз още те обичам…Ще ти го кажа някой ден, но … Дали пък точно днес, например, да ти го кажа непременно. А в други ден да те попитам , тъй както те

Арестувайте я! Приберете я! Далеч да от мен, махнете я! Затворете я в килия, далеч да е от мен! Убийте я проклетницата, дето се любов нарича! Затворете я далеч, в малка стъклена бутилка; Най-горе я сложете, че никой да не я стига. И там да си седи, и прах да събира, Доде не я забравят всички. На прах я стрийте, изгорете я, убийте я. Далеч да е от мен, махнете я! И колкото и да се моли, не слушайте я - Думите й лъжат, действия - измамни. Приберете я в бутилка, най-горе я сложете. И там да си седи, и прах да събира... 09.11.2010 Replica

Life is cruel. At the moment, when you thought you had everything, the most important thing collapses on you. No, not just collapses... I don't even know the word to describe it. A piece falls here and hits in the face, then another one, right there in your stomach, taking your breath out. Then another one hits your arm, and your leg... and by now you can barely stand on your own two feet. But it's not over yet, the big piece, the one that will rip you open is yet to come. And when it does what choice do you have but to cave in? All meaning is lost and life is pointless to such a painful point, you don't want to live anymore, but you're too scared to kill yourself, so instead you do it slowly, naturally. You feast on pain and tears and cigarettes and nothing else. Because nothing else really makes sense anymore, everything has been ripped from you. You walk among people, trying to find a way to keep him out of your head, just for 5 minutes, and you end up wondering &quo

"So I stayed in bed and drank. When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat." As I was sitting at the table with the glass of vodka in front of me, I noticed a particular glimmer in the glass. One most people don't see, or refuse to acknowledge because it's too painful. It's the glimmer of the mirror. It's that painful, painful mirror that you can see every time you reach for the glass and take it to your mouth. That's why some people close their eyes when they take a sip. They are scared of that mirror. That mirror sees everything, knows all your dark secrets and is ready to tell you things your subconsciousness has been trying to tell you, but you shut it up. You can't make the mirror shut up, you can't manipulate it. It's the purest, truest of all mirrors. And that's the beauty of it, of just sitting down with a drink in front of you, without anyone to take lip from. Just sitting there

“Every living creature on earth dies alone.” We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. That’s the truth. No matter how much we try to connect to someone in our lives, no matter how hard we struggle to create a circle of friends, a family, people we trust, we all end up alone. We’re the most hypocritical species on earth. We lie to each other’s faces that we’ll be with someone forever. We lie we will be there for each other no matter what happens. We make vows, we swear on blood, on past, on emotions, on things. And we find a way around those vows, around our own vows. We forsake them. And in the end we are alone. We never really care for anyone, we exist. We’re told by our parents that they’ll always be there for us, but the truth is that the parents won’t understand you. Your friends will be there as long as you’re needed, as long as you’re of use to them. Your family, the people you love, will be there because that’s what society tells them to do. You can only rely on yourself t

"Jeder Ausgang ist ein Eingang zu einem anderen Ort." Boots, leather, ambition. This feels like the right place. This feels like the right time. Success and nothing less. Samael and Lilith will walk these streets. A.K.-47. "Achtung. Du musst jetzt mit mir aufwachen, sonst kannst du mich nicht mehr verstehen." 31.08.2010 Replica

The other day I found your picture. Memories flooded my mind, memories of all the time we spent together. I stared at your picture for hours and I remembered every thought that passed through my head the first time I saw you. I stared at your picture and remember that day. It was summer, it was years ago... "I've always known, you'd take on the world To relive what's just Flashbacks and memories In scrapbooks of pleasantries With your banners unfurled Fly the colors of Yesterdays witty scenes The dreams of all wannabes To remember you need to forget, you need to forget" 24.08.2010 Replica

“Studded leather, strip it, and inside – the most beautiful soul” My first reaction was to call Cynthia and tell her. After the first ring she picked up. “I know, I just saw. I’m on my way. Get off work.” As I hung up, Ron burst in the room. “Vicious.” “I know.” “Did you…?” “No. I know better than that and you know it, Ron.” “I want you to arrange an interview for us. With Dany and Jayden, at least. ASAP. Chop-chop.” He left the room. I knew full well a lot of magazines were going to start calling in asking if I had anything to do with this. I was one of the 10 journalists that got to interview Vicious in Paris in spring. Names spread fast. I opened Vicious’ forum board and started going through the 12-page topic about ‘Anya’. All posts had the same question: Who is Anya and what is her relation to the band? At some point Dany posted giving a brief explanation and picking on their curiosity more – Anya is just a woman we met on the road this year that inspired us all deeply. In fan lan

Tequila Round At that time it never occurred to me that a rock star can fall in love, nor that he believed in love at first sight. I did what Cynthia told me to do at the lunch – I acted professional and a little distant, especially towards Dany, then said my goodbyes and climbed in the limo that was to drive us to the hotel and then to the airport. Jayden was sad to see me go and he begged me to stay for a few days more. I promised I would come visit him in England first chance I get and he cheered up a little. Eric gave me a hug and slipped a guitar pick in my hand “for luck.” Glen made a little joke and said I’m the best journalist he’s ever worked with. Dany was the last to say goodbye. I was surprised how cold he acted, considering what had happened a few hours ago. The butterflies in my stomach were still dancing up and down in a spiral every time my eyes met his, but Cynthia’s voice and my determination overcame them, eventually. Maybe that day I was a little sad to part from so

I take my hat off, bow before the greatness You're so much braver I give you credit for Somehow the grays create a harmony And no color can add a flavor... I've started to feel like... I know the face, familiar stranger I'm not a child, I feel misunderstood I built a bridge, you use the tunnel... now... - the rope we are pulling is slipping away from me; All this wasted time is killing me... and I've started to feel like... I can not control my life anymore Feel a need to leave and breathe on my own I remember all the broken songs of our life Maybe one more wrong will make it all right? I just really need to be alone now... I can not control my life anymore Feel a need to leave and breathe on my own I remember all the broken songs of our life Maybe one more wrong will make it all right? I just really need to be alone now... Tony Kakko 2009 Days of Grays 07.08.2010 Replica

Breakfast on the Shores of Seine At my first job my editor, Cynthia, loved to joke with me about how her greatest nightmare is to lose one of her writers to a rock star. I myself had a few friends that ended up leaving their career to be with a rock star. Truth to be told, and you’d know that, if you’re a girl, we all dream of a long-haired guy with a lot of tattoos, in leather pants, on a bike, who will write us songs and play on his acoustic guitar every night. And rock stars are exactly that. Only in our dreams they aren’t all about pussy, alcohol and drugs. Reality, when you’ve been around rock stars long enough, starts to seem vague. You’re drawn into a spiral of never-ending parties, that involve a lot of pussy, alcohol and drugs. The pussy are the poor girls who did not realize in time a rock star is not someone you can take to dinner at your mommy and daddy’s house and build a home with. They want to be with a rock star because they can brag that they found their dream-bad-boy,

...all you hear is excuses and promises? Am I supposed to look the other way and stay there just because? Am I supposed to look you in the eye and walk away just because? Tell me... 12.07.2010 Replica

The Gig My name is Anya. No last name, simply Anya. I sign all my articles with that name. People in the business know me by it. The man I loved knew me by it. I work as a freelance journalist at a big music magazine and I’m responsible for the rock and metal section. My job is to keep my eyes opened for new hot bands, contact them, interview them, go to concerts and attend press conferences. It pays off. Music has been my passion since I can remember and rock’n’roll has been in my blood. My dad used to play his records to me until I was old enough and had enough money to buy records of my own. In time, with the internet stepping in, it became easier to get in touch with band members. Interviews were arranged easily, no time lost in traveling on either side. With that I made a lot of connections with bands from all over Europe and America. I traveled great distances rarely, but when I did it was usually for a very remarkable artist. Such was the case with Vicious. Emerging from the UK,

Попаднах на група във facebook - "АЗ НЕ СЪМ ИЗБЯГАЛ!!!" . Три удивителни накрая. Знак за абсолютна гордост от факта. Стана ми любопитно какво е казал мъдрия български гражданин със снимки на профила с очила стил Топ Гън, ама още по-големи и тъпи пози в скъпо изглеждащите тоалетни на МОЛ-а, та се позачетох из стената. Хората бяха напускали линкове към патриотични песни, статии от света за развитието на България, компетентни и не до там компетентни мнения и реплики по адрес на хората, избягали в чужбина... и някъде там, с дата 22 Март 2010 година се мъдри линка на господин създателя на групата Игор Георгиев. Гореспоменатият пуска линк към песента Не Съм Избягал на Камен Воденичаров със следният личен коментар към него: "ЗА ВСИЧКИ БЪЛГАРИ ПОБЕГНАЛИ ИЗ РАЗНИ ЧУЖДИ СТРАНИ: ОТВОРЕТЕ СИ ОЧИТЕ И СЕ ЗАМИСЛЕТЕ (ЗА ДА НЕ ВИ ГИ ОТВАРЯМ АЗ) Не можете да разберете, че като се опитвате да се реализирате в чужбина просто помагате на мишки като Доган, Станишев и Царя да ни продадат за ск

...и когато сам в пустиня бродиш, спомни си защо сам тръгна, защо пустинята избра... Пясъкът, навсякъде под теб гори И сякаш по пламъци вървиш. Върви, върви, главата гордо вдигната. Назад недей поглежда, не се обръщай. Дюна подир дюна, слънцето обагря всичко във червено и ето нощ отново е, и ето студ отново е. Сам войнът продължава да върви През студ, през пек, през отчаяние дори. Не мисли той за нищо друго, единствено За туй, зарад що дома си далеч остави. (Нищо няма тук за теб, само смърт, И пек. Ни сянка, ни вода, Обречен си по пътя сам ти Да вървиш.) Пясъкът, навсякъде под теб гори И сякаш по пламъци вървиш. Върви, върви, главата гордо вдигната. Назад недей поглежда, не се обръщай. Помни зарад що си тръгнал, през пустини И през пек. Пони зарад що си се обрекал сам да бъдеш Навек. И не забравяй туй, що те по Пътя води. Назад недей поглежда, не се обръщай. Главата гордо вдигната, върви, върви. ...и когато понечиш назад да се обърнеш, помни – пътят е един. 15.03.2010 Replica П.П.: Нас