somewhere. between the sacred silence and sleep

i still believe in absolution, no less that i believed when i woke up the last morning. but now i am aware - again, that is - that absolution is a hell of an achievement.

untitled. as the clouds

i was missing the old, rainy days, when the gray skyes makes me feel lonely and meaningless. when i don't want to leave home, because i'm too afraid of the pouring rain and the cold wind. when all i can feel is an imense sorrow and an absolute negativity...

change our mind

for many years i have seen your ancient hands trembling. always shaking, as autumn leaves, battered by the wind of a long life. i remember how i wished them to stop trembling. now, the only thing i wish is to see them shaking again, for a long time.

it may always be too late

when someone that we do love dies, what really hurts us in not the fact that we will never see them again, but that we had let them die without letting them know how much we loved them and how much we cared about them.

a matter of time

her: will you stay with me forever?
him: forever. and some more days. we never know what comes next.

refugee

it was not the first time i went to the balcony, but it was the first time i stood there for a while. watching the street, as the night fell and the cigarrette quietly burned. just like the old times at the window lattice. then i look around. another man, in a balcony nearby, is quietly watching the street while smoking. another refugee.

quoth the raven

humans may be the only creatures on earth who spend significant time thinking about the fact that someday their lives will end. that's probably why we all fantasize at some point about what it would be like to live forever. no one knows what waits us after we die: is there an afterlife - an so, are we going to like it? or is this lifetime truly all there is? we comfort ourselves with religion, if we can; but we all know in our hearts that no living being really knows the answer to the ultimate question. we all long to be safe and secure.

joan d. vinge ([2001] 1980), reading group guide: a conversation with joan d. vinge, the snow queen, warner books, p.416

let me entertain you

as ever, the oscars have passed me by. i was sleeping by the time and didn't even considered to bother myself to wake up, get out of bed, move to the couch, turn on the television set and watch the show (despite john stewart). best movie: crash. friends say it is awesome. same friends say it it somehow unfair that brokeback mountain hasn't received more awards. maybe. as far as i know, the only nominated movie that deserved every award won was memories from a geisha. if i had to award a movie, the oscar would go to good night and good luck without hesitation. not that i have seen the movie. but the title sounds great.

anyway, what makes a film the best movie of its year? some aguments may be somehow verified - soundtracks, special effects, and more technical stuff. what else? best movie? matrix is, as far as i am concerned, the best movie ever made, and it started a revolution that arguably no film since blade runner has ever started. it wasn't even nominated for the best movie award. too alternative, my friends say. bullshit. titanic never - never! - deserved eleven oscars. and i could keep up. my friends would say that this is nothing but my opinion. indeed. and so, a good movie for me may well be a piece of shit for the critics. happens all the time. for example, i won't leave this city this week without watching underworld evolution. the first, according to what i've read, was junk. the second won't gather better opinions. who cares? like the story, like the sound, like the visual effects, and, most of all, i like kate beckinsale wearing those dark leather suits. is it a blockbuster? no doubt - a simple story of werewolves and vampires, with blazing guns, sexy bodies and loadshots of action. is it deep? no. meaningful? no, not at all? does it have a message? no, not really? so? it entertains. and most of times, that's all that matters about movies.

by the way

why do i keep writing things about souls that doesn't even know i do exist?

laughter

we should (try to...) understand that some little things we find so easy to laugh of may hurt some feelings. no matter how naïve may the laughter be.

pariah

years and years believing that i was a pariah by my own choice, only to realise that even those who stand by our side cast us aside all the time without being aware of it.

stick them where the sun doesn't shine, please

since my cell phone company came out with the brilliant idea of offering free sms (short message script), i'm receiving dozens of messages in a daily basis. just like the e-mail forwards: people foolishly think that it is obvious that everyone has free sms, and that everyone likes those messages and that everyone is eager to send them to a countless list of people - who is, obviously, happy to receive them, because that's a proof that the sender remembers them. well, not everyone has free sms - i don't, because the terms of agreement were not that good. not everyone likes those messages - as for one, i hate them, more than i hate christmas. and it's not by sending a forwarder sms saying "send this to ten people other than me or you won't have a decent fuck in the next ten years" that he or she is remembering me. it just means that the person's phone list includes my number, that's all. and i'm not happy to receive those god damned things - it's a waste of time i don't have at all.

but i'm preparing my revenge. one day i will send the following message: "hello. the chain is broken and i have just got laid, so your curse didn't work. i would course you now to never again have sex, but it's fairly obvious that you don't have sex at all, or you wouldn't be sending these messages. love, john."

bad, naughty blogger

i wonder why blogger system keeps changing the dashboard language from english to portuguese. maybe it knows i am portuguese. but the language it's not even portuguese - it's brazilian, and no, that's not the same thing. hope blogger realises this one day, and stop annoying me.

let's move on:

it has to start somewhere,
it has to start sometime.
what better place than here?
what better time than now?

(guerrila radio, rage against the machine)

giants

i never asked to stand on the shoulders of giants. but i've never told them they could stand on my shoulders.