10 things i hate in christmas (9)

all right, let's continue last year's saga - if you remember (and i know you don't), i've stopped at number eight. a friend of mine, who reads this blog - or so she says - told me that some creep copied my posts, put them all together, and forwarded them via e-mail. it makes me think that many people are not aware of the wonders of onanism.

anyway, the show must go on:

9) christmas' lights and decorations: the romans invented quite a lot of good things, but i don't remember them inventing néons, coloured lamps that blink in red and blue and fucking yellow (some lamps even sing christmas' songs, the bitches!). this to say that christ was born in a narrow, dirty stable, because by that time, the world was narrow and dirty. so the lights in the streets make no sense, no fucking sense at all.

choices

i have no fucking clue if, in the long run, the choice i made was the right one or the worse i could have ever made. i just know that right now it seems the right one, and i guess that if that's so, nothing else really matters.

forgiven, but not forgotten

the problem is, we can forgive, but we do never forget. and that's how a bunch of small things and details that we thought forgiven and forgotten long ago always show up when we most need them to stay deep in the hidden hell where they belong. but no, oh no, when things get messed up, they have to join the party and make everything even more confused, just when we thought it could no longer be possible. i'd really like to have an answer. better: i'd really like to have the answer you want to hear from me. yes, i'd like it to be as it used to be - not in the end, in the dark, raging end, but in the beginning, when everything was smooth and perfect. but i can't simply walk away, forget all that and start it over again as if it was nothing, because it was. it really was. and to be quite honest, i'm not up to live that again. that's only one possibility, i know, but now, after getting used to my mellancholic solitude once again, i don't know if it is worth to risk it all.

i know that all this shit makes no sense at all. the thing is, i can no longer be sure of what i feel. i wish i did, either for good or bad. it'd make things way easier.

perhaps it is always too late

we only know for sure what we must do when we cannot do it anymore. in other words, we understand our mistakes, but we're never given the chance to make the wrong things right.

take no notice

it still feels empty, only no one takes notice of it anymore.

walk

what matters is not the goal, but the path we walk to achieve it. but if we don't have any goal, we hardly have a reason to even start walking.

oracle

the oracle was right. everything that has a beginning, has an end. and no, i don't mean this blog. around here, as in life, the show must go on.

quoth the raven:

how precarious is the way we walk over the surface of life..!

hahn, world's end (by joan d. vinge; my translation)

clouded

when the future is clouded, the past seems some huge non-sense picture. but then the future is clouded, the past makes more sense than ever.

map of the problematique

fear, and panic in the air
i want to be free
from desolation and despair
And i feel like everything i saw
is being swept away
and i refuse to let you go

i can't get it right
get it right
since i met you...

loneliness be over
when will this
loneliness be over?

life, will flash before my eyes
so scatter our worlds
i want to touch the other side
and no one thinks they are to blame
why can't we see
when we bleed, we bleed the same

i can't get it right
get it right
since I met you...

loneliness be over
when will this
loneliness be over?

loneliness be over
when will this
loneliness be over?

(muse)

oh, well. back to the old times.

so much for the fucking "good morning, mate"

is it possible to share a house with someone without actually living with them? oh, yes, it is.

so much for so little

everyone always says "i'm here for you anytime you want, anytime you need". but everyone always gets the hell away from you when you want to talk. when you need to talk. in truth, you always end up talking to yourself, alone, for no one hears you. no one bothers to listen to you.
the 'anytime' thing is nothing but bullshit.

thunderstorm

one of the sad things about lisbon (and all bigger cities, i assume) is that there is so much light at night that no one can fully enjoy the wild beauty of a violent thunderstorm.

a walk in the park

one year has barely passed; it'd feel like a big, fucking run if i was at least tired. it's been more like a walk in the park.~

still the park had quite loose stones and trash scattered along the way, but i guess that nothing's perfect, all right.