chronicles of homehell... mean, homeland

it's for quotes like this one that some folk of my homeland is priceless:

i was supposed to go fuck this brasilian bitch, i've fucked her a couple times before... but i haven't called her earlier today, and now i don't know if it'll be possible...

still...

.... i've found out what would make me write my tales and stories more often: three hours in a train. it works wonders.

exile

before i came south, back to the god forsaken wastes where my homeland is located, a friend asked me how long would i be able to stand it here, far from everything and from everyone. i laughed and told her that i'd be fine for one week, then i'd start to go wild about it. one week? how naïve. two days spent in this exile, without a decent internet connection, cable t.v., decent places to be when going out, were more than enough to force me to declare insanity on my exiled mind.

'u'

my 'u' keystroke is failing - keyboard getting old and worn, time does never forgive, does it? the funny thing is, i never thought i'd use so many 'u's on my writings. i've read something like this a long time ago, can't quite remember where. it was about electrical power and light, and how we live our lives so used to some vital things that we become oblivious to them. the idea was, we only give electricity (light) its true importance when power goes down and we're left to wonder in the darkness.

the one.

it might seem that i'm talking to someone in a great deal of my postings here, which is true. the posts are, indeed, directed to someone. not to the same one all the time - in fact, i've spoken (assuming that to spoke can be understoon under a one-way-only perspective) to mny people in these lines. to friends and to enemies, to aquaintances and to people who have long forsaken the friendship i gave them. so you see, it's never quite the same one.

now if you ask me if those ones read these lines and understand what i mean, well, i don't know, i have no fucking idea, but i guess no, they don't. most of them, at least. it might seem useless to write things for people who do never read them, but it actually works wonders for me.

urgency

this sudden urge of yours to meet me was quite weird. we're friends, all right, so i shouldn't find it strange for you to ask me out to have a drink a bit of chatting. it's the urgency around it that made me feel somewhat uneasy. it was the same urgency that i expected yo to show some time ago, when you basically haven't given a fuck about it, see?

some hurts go too deep

how do you pick up the threads of an old life? how do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back. there are some things that time can not mend. some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold.

| frodo baggins, the lord of the rings: the return of the king (movie script) |

death proof

deathproof is probably the movie with the simplest story tarantino have ever directed. i could write for it a storyline as simple as this one:

a serial killer that uses his stunt car to kill young women ends up messing around with the wrong girls.

yes, it'd be this simple. this is the plot. now put a face-scarred kurt russell playing the murderer stuntman and eight fairly hot chicks as the two groups of girls he will face - the first one, to kill in one of the most violent (and well directed) car accident scenes i've ever seen; the second, to kick his own stuntman ass after a wild car chase on the countryside (in the picture, the second group).

but what's really impressive is the whole way the film was edited - it seems we're watching one of those old tape movies on our stone-age video set. colour fails, scenes are cut and repeated, and the whole image is bad. wonderfully bad. that's the magic of this movie - it's not the long and brilliant talking moments that tarantino does so good. it's not the astounding acting performances (they are all right for the purposes). it's not also the special effects. it's the photography that gives the movie al its magic, as if it was a treasure long buried beneath the sands of a sunny, remote beach. it makes us feel there, on the old warehouses watching crappy movies. and that's delicious.

(can't help but wonder what happened to lee, the girl abernathy leaves on the farm in exchange for a ride on the dodge challenger, but even though tarantino has shown no more of her, it's not hard to imagine what she was still doing by the time the movie was over).

and by the way,

i could keep posting quoth the raven thingies for the rest of my life quoting only the picture of dorian gray, by oscar wilde. pure genious, old wilde. i almost feel ashamed for reading this only now.

quoth the raven:

(...) that is one of the great secrets of life. nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one's mistakes.

| oscar wilde, the picture of dorian gray |

not with me, for i am brainless by the morning

what a wonderful thing, the brain! it starts working right when one wakes up and doesn't quite stop 'till one arrives at the office... indeed, my friend. indeed. i don't know if i should, but i felt like adding you to my link list.

(my translation, as portuguese shall not be written in this blog but for very, very special circumstances)

the last day

everything has to end eventually. yet at this point, i can't say that something has been lost - because there's so much, but so much, that has been won.

will see you around, my friend.*

(and no, by no means is this blog about to end. this is all about another thing.)

sense of retribution

this is how it works, mate. you screw me. i screw you. and the world keeps spinning around endlessly.

graveyard

it's something i've been noticing for quite some time. i screw it all sometimes. it's in my nature, can't really help it at least now. and because i'm no hermit (yet), eventually i get to screw it with someone. the blast always catches who is around me and who's relying on me for something. and eventually, someone caught in the mess i created (or someone affected by it in any way) comes up to bash me for it. it's quite natural, and i can usually deal with it pretty well. if the one bashing is correct, of course, and if what i'm told is said the right way.

because, as we all know, sometimes the way we say things ruins the sense our words would have otherwise. there's no need to make a fuss out of a couple of wine drops over the table.

still, everytime someone "bashes" me up, that someone dies a little inside me. no matter how wrong i am and how wrong that person is. it's a little bit dead. it gets a little bit colder. on and on. same goes for when someone hurts me. if i feel it deeper than my skin level i might forgive it, but i do never forget. and it gets a little more colder. it dies a little more. at the age of 22, i believe i could already start building a graveyard out of this.

to get is different than to keep

cátia, it is not a matter of no longer wanting what we finally got. the thing is, there is quite a difference between wanting to get something and wanting to keep something.

when you have something, you don't have to work to get it any more. instead, you might have to turn your energy into finding a way to keep that something with you. a love-based relationship is the best example for this (and perhaps this was what your post was referring to - not that it really matters): you're in love with someone, but you're not with him. then you'll do whatever you can in order to be with him. in this situation, people tend to be kinder, more compassionate, sometimes enigmatic - i guess everyone has his or her very own individual way to attract someone. after you got what you wanted, ergo, after you're with the one you loved, what happens? you stop fighting to get him to start fighting to keep him. according to some people this might be the difference between passion and love. i prefer to call it maturity.

(for example, when i started dating my girlfriend i seldom smoked when she was around - by my own choice, mind you, and not because she asked me to -. that's something unthinkable right now as we stand. but things have changed, we have shown more of ourselves to each other, and such a behaviour towards myself would not be correct)

so yes, when we finally get what we wanted we still want what we got. we want to keep it. at least until there's something that can replace it with a sense of being a new thing. ultimately that can explain why we eventually replace everything we have - from our underwear to our house, and even our friends (yes, friends are always replaceable). it's not that we don't want what we have any more; it's merely a matter of wanting something new all the time.

i know this might lack a bit of coherence, but to sum it up: to keep is different than to get. when you don't have something, you go and get it. when you do have something, you go and keep it. you cannot keep something you haven't got yet, as well as you can't let anything go if you haven't previously got it.

on friendship (I)

of course, i cannot (or i should not) expect my friends to do for me what i'd do for them without a thought, no matter how simple and easy that would be. but i can always expect myself to stop being an ass, i suppose.

quoth the raven

democracy must be something more than two wolves and a sheep voting on what to have for dinner.

- james bovard

take care

those who willingly give away of their identity, of their privacy, of their freedom in exchange of security deserve nothing of it. no identity. no privacy. no freedom. and in the end they will get no security at all, and every little thing they gave away will turn on them. no one can take care of us better than ourselves.

empty promises, empty expectations

you shouldn't make promises that you don't know if you can fulfill. what you said is simply beyond your reach, you know? it's not something for you to decide. by doing that, you're merely generating expectations. empty expectations. and you oughta know by now, as well as i do, where does that lead.

friendship is (or seems to be) overrated

it might be my problem. really. i may indeed overrate friendship. i may be a fool - well, i'm definetely a fool, if not for this, for a fair bunch of other good reasons. but fuck it - there are people that are part of our world. people with whom we build something over the years. people whose absense would be quicky noticed. and for those people i'd do anything i could, whether they asked me for my help or not. it's a matter of values. as long as i can help it, no friend of mine sleeps on the couch when staying at my home if there's an empty bed. true - no one asked. but for fuck's sake, how can it be possible to treat someone we know for more than ten years with such an indifference?

some people truly deserve to be left alone to rot in peace. sadly, such a fate only comes for those who would do anything to avoid that to come to their friends. never to the wannabe friends.

unavoidable and inevitable

i'm not avoiding you. it's not that i don't wanna be with you any more. i'm merely letting the world spin free. i'm allowing things to follow their course, if you want. without intereference of any kind. which, in the end, will have the very same effect than if i'd be avoiding you. and that's rather inevitable, you know?

vendetta

we may be all right. we may pretend to be all right. we may say, believe or feel that everything has been forgiven, that whatever has happened is of no consequence. it might be true all along. still sometimes, just sometimes, we can't help but wish, ache for retribution. revenge. a vendetta, subtle, insidious, unnoticed on the outside but extremely devastating on the inside.

it would be frightening, to say the least

sometimes i wonder what would happen if all of a sudden, i were to wake up one morning and see every thing i joke about on a daily basis had become real.

hesitation

yeah, mate, i know what your hesitation means. some things can never be the same again. unfortunately, most of times we only think about that when it's way too late.

Nice (I)

on the departure, the wish to return there, to that sunny city encased between the deep blue sea and the towering mountains, never to come back to the old world.

expectations and statistics

my expectations can be high, low or null (in this last case they are un-expectations i guess). when my expectatoions about something are high, good are the chances of ending up bitterly disappointed. happens more than half the times, i'd say around 70% (and this is frankly optimistic). when my expections are low, they can surprise me in a positive way, when they exceed what i was counting on (happens 10% of the time), they doesn't surprise me at all as i see them all happening (75%) or they can be even worse than i thought it would be possible - and believe me, i usually set my expectations quite low.

if my expectations are null - say, if i hold no expectations about something -, odds that i'm utterly right in that judgement climb up to 99%. it is your case. null expectations. nothing to expect on you. no alarms and no surprises.

if only your eyes were green....

tout cela ne vaut pas le poison qui découle de tes yeux,
de tes yeux verts,
lacs où mon âme tremble et se voit à l'envers...
mer songes viennent en foule pour se désaltérer à ces gouffres amers.

tout cela ne vaut pas le terrible prodige
de ta salive qui mord,
qui plonge dans l'oublie mon âme sans remors,
et, charriant la vertige,
la roule défaillante aux rives de la mort!

| baudelaire, poison, les fleurs du mal|

oh my fucking god!

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$3975, is how much my body is worth? that's 2917.90€. hmmm...... anyone interested?

sweet, sweet irony

this weekend, rock stars will jet around the world, cars and buses will clog traffic, and elaborate sound stages will be set up to burn massive amounts of fuel to send the message to fans at home that they better conserve their energy or face the allegedly dire threat of global warming.

pure genious. really. let's get the idea of live earth and this summer let's make a huge pyre in the middle of a forest to make portuguese people aware of the dire consequences of the forest fires that year after year ser our country ablaze!


now serious.... some people still wonder why the hell i never support these causes...

like a shot in the dark miss the mark

i blame you for the moonlit sky,
and the dream that died
with the eagles' flight.
blame you for the moonlit nights,
when i wonder why
are the seas still dry?
don't blame this sleeping satellite...

did we fly to the moon too soon?
did we squander the chance?
in the rush of the race,
the reason we chase is lost in romance...
and still we try
to justify the waste
for a taste of man's greatest adventure..!

I blame you for the moonlit sky,
and the dream that died
with the eagles' flight.
blame you for the moonlit nights,
when i wonder whyare the seas still dry?
don't blame this sleeping satellite...

have we lost what it takes to advance?
have we peaked too soon?
if the world is so green
then why does it scream under a blue moon?
we wonder why,
if the earth's sacrificed
for the price of it's greatest treasure..!

i blame you for the moonlit sky,
and the dream that died
with the eagles' flight.
blame you for the moonlit nights,
when i wonder why
are the seas still dry?
don't blame this sleeping satellite...

and when we shoot for stars,
what a giant step!
have we got what it takes
to carry the weight of this concept?
or pass it by? like a shot in the dark
miss the mark with a sense of adventure..!

i blame you for the moonlit sky,
and the dream that died
with the eagles' flight.
blame you for the moonlit nights,
when i wonder why
are the seas still dry?
don't blame this sleeping satellite...

tasmin archer, sleeping satellite, great expectations (1992) #1

have a nice weekend.

to look great in the picture

it's your primary concern, to look great in the picture. i really don't mind if you do it for yourself (even though i think it's silly, but who the hell am i to judge?), but i hate when you piss me off with that kind of futile crap. yeah, it'd be nice to give her a gift of some kind. but the problem with your idea is the fact that it is your idea. and it'd be quite obvious. of course, she'd know it, and in the end what would most likely happen was, neither you or me would really look nice in the picture. so cut the crap, nevermind it. the greatest gift i can give her is to be there. i don't think there's something i could do that she'd cherish the most.

liability

well, it might be better that way. as the others' intentions towards myself aren't always crystal clear to me (and to anyone i guess), it will be one less liability. at least for now.

commitment (I)

many points are quite right but for one thing: commitment. or rather, lack of commitment. and yes, in this particular case, i lack it. but why would that be?

dull

i can't help but feel sorry, so sorry, for people who laugh at others' dreams. who mock them for dare dreaming. who tease them for having ambition, and for hoping to have enough will to pursue it. because those people, those who laugh, who mock, who tease, they never had the will to pursue anything. they never had dreams, small dreams or illusions of grandeur, nothing. they lived their dull lives wanting nothing, daring nothing. they hate themselves for it. and so they hate the others for being different. for wishing, daring, dreaming.

i would pity them if i could, the ones without dreams. they are so sad.

make poverty history?

do you know one thing that really annoys me? it's those labels on the upper right corner of many websites and blogs saying "makepovertyhistory.org" (gladly they are not as fashionable as they were around some months ago). i can't help but wonder at what crosses a blogger's mind to put that bloody banner on his website. do they believe that, by doing so, they will make poverty a past history? do they believe they can put a righteous end to poverty and misery by spreading a ridiculous banner on the screen? and how would that work? every banner would mean some money that would be shipped straight to some african pervert dictator (forgive me being redundant), so he could burn it all for the sake of his personal glory while his people die by starvation or kill each other mercilessly?

kindness, generosity and concern about the world's problems are indeed great assets, especially if, in truth, we really don't give a fuck about them. it makes us look great in the picture. hypocritical bullshit, i tell ya.

on evil

no one can stare at the heart of evil and walk away untouched, said a friend of mine about frodo's tragedy in tolkien's the lord of the rings. an issue to elaborate one of these days.

close the cycle

i've played the fool for quite too long. i've been a nice fellow for quite some time, even though i recognize that it doesn't make it up for some not-that-good aspects of my personality. i've quietly held my ground more than many people would have been able to. but everything that has a beginning has an end. i guess that time has come for me to embrace the opportinities i'm given. you would not even consider me in the equation if you were in my position, would you? you merely wanted me around for so long out of sheer need - for as soon as you need me no more, i'll be useless. so be it. it's time for me to fend for myself. and it's about time for me to close the cycle you would have closed long ago, were you given any other option.

phylosophy out of a friend's messenger nickname (VIII)

do never argue with morons. they first pull you to their level, and then they win by their experience.

my time is running out

the first warning has been given. my time is running out. let's make haste, then, to walk away before the second one, for i really don't wanna be here for the third...