Category Coltraining aka The Club
Went to the club last night to see if it could help me with stress. It didn’t. How silly of me to think think I could use it like I do sleeping pills or alcohol? No instant relief. Contrary to… Continue Reading →
I came home a bit early today and wanted to write. But, as always, as soon as I was ready to sit down and bleed, I felt tired, overwhelmed and good for nothing. I knew it wasn’t even worth trying… Continue Reading →
The next day after I got the unclear message from Dionysus, I went to the club again. I thought I was prepared to embody joy and be merry but the music was a lot darker than usual. Similar to the… Continue Reading →
Hemingway looked tired the other day. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to “embody joy.” I kept dying and dying and dying, purifying myself but with no luck. No joyful dancing for me on that night. The two women… Continue Reading →
There’s a jazz club where a band plays John Coltrane’s Blue Train every Saturday night. No one knows about it. The place is dark and sticky but smells pleasantly of rum, cedar wood and sun-kissed sweat coming from the skin… Continue Reading →