out of control

sometimes we say as a joke that it would be nice if life - and people - were to come with an instruction manual and a guide, so we could follow it and better figure out what to do in some situations. and yet, the most detailed guide would be quite flawed. the truth is, there is no guide for unpredictability - and life (and people) are unbredictable by nature. two situations may seem similar, and what worked out in the first time might well miss the mark completely in the second time. it's funny. we try to give to our lives some semblance of control and order, but the truth is, life is ruled by chaos, and we have no control whatsoever.

we do never lose control of our lives then, simply because we were never given any control over it.

downfall

i've seen it before, i believe. the same slow downfall in melancholy, in despair, in a self pity that reduces one to mud. i've seen ruins of people crawling in that primordial mud, powerless to stay above it or even to quietly drown with the flood. it might not be a way without return, but to crawl is easier, far easier - and quite often, the only way in front of one's eyes.

lie

life would be unbearable if it was impossible for us to lie.

whole

one day i'll find myself again through a twin looking glass, and i'll be whole again.

anew

starting anew right now. and it was about damn time.

change

it's not that i like barack obama, or that i'd vote for him if i was american. but right now i would like him to be here to tell me "you can do it" (the change).

and once he'd be here, he could well give me a hand packing up all my stuff. meh, it's cool when you move to a new house (especially if it is a better house), but packing up everything is too much of a trouble.

inevitably wrong

try as we might, sometimes it's simply beyond us to do the right thing.

not let go

the future is something innevitable - we'll live it whether we like it or not. we can pretend not to, of course, and as a matter of fact, that's something quite easy to accomplish - we just need to cling on the past, not letting it go.

the enunciation of truth

v: why? because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. words offer the means to meaning and, for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth.

in v for vendetta, directed by larry and andy wachowsky, 2006

the right thing

sometimes the right thing to do is a hard thing to do. it's funny, isn't it?

sphere

the world is shaped like a sphere. in the end, that's the reason why two points standing side by side can have a tremendous distance separating them. it's just a matter of which side you pick up to walk from one to the other.

on traps

one must use extreme caution when laying a trap to someone, for it's quite easy for us to be the ones ending up trapped, or having it backfiring.

twisted backwards

truth is a necessary evil. it is somewhat easy to cover up ugliness with fancy lies that mask the real essence and the real meaning of things. but the essence and the meaning of things are seldom beautiful. no, they aren't - they are ugly, twisted, thorny, and the mere sight of them is like a slap in the face. they care not about feelings or poetic meanings; they exist only to present to us reality as it is.

and we see it twisted because we are often twisted backwards.

worn out

everything gets worn out eventually. even those things that weren't supposed to suffer erosion.

on mistakes

human beings are doomed to make mistakes. that's a fact, no point arguing about it. but human beings are also learning all the time - mistakes are very good teachers. the good thing about our abilities to learn and to make mistakes is, we don't need to make all mistakes to learn from them - it is often enough to see someone doing them, and suffer the consequences.

and this is probably the key to our adaptive nature.

about a friend

now i noticed i'd write about l. before. no matter. she's surely worth more than one post in my blog.

to l.

i tend to believe that me and l. have the most unlikely friendship in the world. and it's not because we are quite different - because if there would be something like "twin souls" in the world, we'd surely fall into that category. she's more like me than my blood sister, note the irony.

we haven't always been the friends we are today. according to some memories (not our own memories, mind you - back then we were too young to have anything that could ressemble a "memory") -, she was the first girl i've ever called my girlfriend, and this in the kindergarden. no, this doesn't mean that even back then i was far ahead of my time. it simply means that i've always had the best taste when it comes to girls, for among so many young ladies i've picked up the cutest one, that little shy blonde girl. anyway. we went to different schools shorly after that, and never talked much in the following years. then we got back together in the same class, and things changed for a while - until we got separated while studying in the same class. it's that funny age, you know, when people get very restricted groups and don't interact much outside them. lasted three years - and after three years, we've discovered each other again. and for other three years, we sat side by side every morning and every evening in the bus that would take us to school, and then back home. we talked. we laughed. we confessed things to each other that we wouldn't tell anyone else (i, for one, never did). we shared a lot about ourselves, now that i think of it.

and it's funny - we reached such a state of empathy that even our feelings and thoughts become somewhat synchronized. i mean, imagine that something happened when we were together - someone said a joke, a bird took a crap into someone's head, anything. the very same thought would then cross both our minds. words were not needed between us then - we just needed to stare into each other's eyes, and we'd know exactly what the other was thinking.

so why is this friendship unlikely? because nowadays, we rarely see each other. okay, allow me to correct that - we see each other once every year - twice, if we were lucky, three times and i start believing in the all mighty god. and we seldom talk as well - with all the modern means of communication that there are out there. we both have cellphones, we both have internet. and we seldom talk. and yet when we meet, we usually escape so some isolated place where we can "smoke the issue", as she usually says, and start an endless converstation. and the best part is, our old empathy remains. that's the most remarkable thing about this friendship, probably the best i've ever had with a girl - our ability to still love each other while spending months after months hearing nothing from each one of us.

that's probably because we're so alike - intellectualy speaking, of course. physically, she's pretty and elegand and quite sensual, while i.... well, let's skip that useless bit. by the way, i said she was my first girlfriend - our mothers confirm that story, none of us remembers -, but the funny part is, we never even kissed each other. hehe.

to l., my best (girl)friend.

always a catch

the problem with agreements is, we never know everyone's intentions. if everyone had the best intentions (or, at least, honest ones), there would be no problems whatsoever. but people are devious and dishonest by nature, and those features only need a good reason to surface. and it's so easy to make an agreement without revealing everything - it's said only what it's needed, and what's not needed is left silent. however, sometimes what's not said is what matters the most.

expiration time

sometimes i can't help but feel that my life has long since passed its expiration time.

they keep coming back

to stumble on our own past. have been doing a lot of that lately. old songs, old conversations, half-burned pictures in a lost corner of our minds. sometimes they carry an unexpected guilt that constraints our hearts as if they were placed on a vise. sometimes they bring back memories - both sweet and bitter - that made us realise that things haven't changed as much as we thought they did. and some time-lost words and pictures can even bring tears to our eyes.

the past should remain in the past.

exhaustion

a tired body is a body prone to be hurt by the most insignificant infections.

against the tide

i don't know why i keep swimming against the tide, when it is more than clear that the tide won't flow to me. waste of time. as for the 'trials'.... also know the outcome. it's fairly obvious at this point. and it is not without a faint sense of irony, i dare say.

to lose our balance

sometimes we are doing just fine. no irony. sometimes things go as well as they could go. and then, as we're walking along the way, we stumble. we lose our balance. and after countless hours of perfect walking, the seconds we take from the stumble to hit the ground are enough to ruin everything.

small death

i remember the feeling from an old time ago. now that i look back, it seems it was in another lifetime, and that i was another person. but no, i'm still the change than i was before. and, just as before, it felt like a little bit of me died in that moment.

the man who sold...

... his life. yes, it's true - some australian guy is auctioning his life in ebay. in the 'life package" he includes his house, his car, his spa, his clotes, his job and even his friends. apparently, the guy was heartbroken by his ex-wife and wants a fresh new start.

well, the guy has a point if you ask me. can someone tell me if it works? for around $385 thousand USD (roughly 246 thousand euros) i'd gladly sell all my life. i really would.

weaknesses

weaknesses are not only exposed to our enemies in battle. they can also be used by ourselves as a shield, either to deceive or to deliver a vicious counterattack. it's a low strategy that can cause severe damage - guilt is still a powerful weapon, after all.

the way of the gods

it's so easy to demand sacrifices when we intend to sacrifice nothing. it might take a while to glimpse that reality; but once we do, all the belief and worship comes tumbing down to shatter in the cold floor. most gods of all the ages have fallen that way; and those who haven't, were left to oblivion, forsaken and forgotten in ruined, empty temples.

lost innocence

we lose our innocence in the very moment we leave our mother's womb. and with our first cry for breath comes the first trace of guilt.

doubt

few things can stop doubt from going rampant like a hurricane once we let it in.

true regret

to regret something is quite common. but true regret only comes when we fully understand the consequences of something that we did - or that we did not. only then we truly regret our decision, when it's beyond our reach to change it, when it is impossible for anyone to believe that we would have done it differently.

meaning(less)

some things we may consider futile are of extreme importance and meaning. and we can't help it. it is people who give the meaning to most things, yes, but some things have a meaning of their own. we can go and pretend that they're meaningless, but we'll end up failing and all the time we know that we're wrong, only we don't want to see it. anyway. it will surely be a time of trials.

quoth the raven (XXVII):

love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking together in the same direction.

antoine de saint-exupéry

the language of pride

someone who can only speak the language of pride cannot except to understand the subtetly of the language of forgiveness. and of love, for that matter. and when it comes to that, all moral judgements fail, and turn against oneself. so yes, i might have made a fool out of myself, forgiving for love several times. in the past, i was severely wounded for that, and yet i've survived. in the present, only the gods can tell, but i'll survive no matter what. the funny thing is, i'd do it all again without blinking. i understand all too well the language of pride. i know the way it sounds, i know its tones and characters. but that language is a doomed one, a cursed one - one that will brings us no relief, no redemption, only bitter tears of woe. some might say that love (and forgiveness) can only bring us pain as well, and i'm tempted to agree. but to live is to suffer.

and we suffer just the same when blinded by pride. and we end up seeing it - but only when it's too late, and only when regret is all we have left.

full circle

the same old accusations surfaced yet again, doomed to be buried and exhumed when someone sees fit. stating the obvious, it's true that i am nothing but a selfish son of a bitch, as it is true that i care only about myself first - thus underlining that once more is but a waste of time. the curious thing is, everytime someone blames me for caring about myself first, that someone is merely caring about oneself first - and when we reach a full circle like this, who is right and who is wrong?

tear drop

there was this girl, and she couldn't cry. not that there was anything wrong with her eyes, gray-green like the sea under a storm. not that she didn't feel anything - because she did, oh yes she did. but she couldn't cry. the saddest book or the most tragic film appealed to her emotions, and yet she felt nothing but a little trembling in her eyelids. she hurt herself and her eyes remained dry. she was hurt by others, betrayed by friendship and love, and yet she could not weep. she saw her hopes collapsing, shattering in the cold, dirty ground, and not a single tear drop would run through her cheeks and hit the dust. she couldn't quite explain it. all she knew was she was unable to cry.

and then she realised the truth. she was, indeed, able to cry, just not like everyone else. others cried for the outside, large teardrops rolling down their faces, audible sobs that make the entire body shake in anticipation. she cried for the inside, her tears flowing quietly to her inner being like an underground river whose existance no one acknowledges. until one day, she thought. one day she wouldn't be able to contain any more tears. one day her lungs would be full of salty water and she would drown from the inside. one day all the sadness of all the ages would overtake her, and she would die alone as she had always cried alone.

a voice of its own

it's probably the thousandth time i write about hope, when as a matter of fact there is little to be said about it. people can do astonishing things when fueled by hope. they can't move mountains, but aren't really far from it. and yet, hope can bring a pain like no other - a pain that hits us right in the face and send us tumbling down to the ground. it's the pain that comes after a long, long belief, after the most optimistical thoughts, after the most insane efforts to make things to go right. if we go to the bottom of it, hope itself it's an illusion, one that we have no way to control. and no, the fact that we're pessimist doesn't erradicate it, unfortunately. like the believers do always have a voice whispering in their ears telling them that some things can go wrong, that everything might fail, pessimist people have a similar voice whispering to them that everything might well be all right. that there might be a light somewhere. and that voice has a will of its own, has intention, and as it whispers, it builds the walls of a bitter illusion around us.

differences in the similarities

it's somwhat ironic how similar thoughts can lead to attitudes so different.

anyone wants lessons?

truth be told, i really need no one's help to make a fool out of myself. i'm master in doing it alone.

and on hope, again

someone tells me that hope is the last thing to die. a trivial thought, i'd say. and a pointless one, too: what difference does it make to be last one dying, if it will die anyway?

note to readers

i've updated alice's link, for she has a new and quite interesting blog. and i've also added to my list of links jorge's blog - something i should have done a long, long time ago, but somethings never change and i will always be a hopeless lazy bum.

war

ye know, lad, said the seasoned warrior, warfare isn't all about clashing swords in the battlefield and cavalry charges, about city sieges and general bloodshed. warfare, he explained, absently chewing the cigarrette tip and polishing the shiny blade of his sword, warfare starts before, much before the drums of war can be heard. it starts with a vague threat whispered by the wind. you feel a tension in the air, as if the hell could break loose at any moment. you see people's faces, sullen and grave, aware that there's something up somehow. you note anger bursts coming out of nowhere. now, that's what war is all about, lad. that tension, that veiled threat, that's what fuels the general mayhem we see in every battlefield worth the title. that's what makes fury to run deep. that's what lies underneath fear. and fear, my boy, fear does not moves an army backwards, but forward, straight to the enemy.

on forgiveness

as noble as it can be, forgiveness is a flawed concept. can we really forgive what is done to us? i mean, it's easy to say nevermind, forget about it, or i forgive you. but how easy is to truly feel it? is it hard, or ultimately impossible?

the thing is, evil can never be completely undone once it's done. we might forgive someone who hurts us. we might keep talking to that person, going out, watch the football game, buying a drink now and thenmaking love, pretend that nothing happened. but something happened, and no matter how many times we repeat to that person (and to ourselves) that we forgave, we have not forgotten. and a shadow, sometimes thick and deep, sometimes ethereal and shallow, always remains.

on attitude

i meet a dwarf in the street and realise that i do not personally know any dwarf. but then i look again and understand that i do know people much smaller than any dwarf.

quoted and translated from vontade indómita

atmosphere

walk in silence,
don't walk away, in silence.
see the danger,
always danger,
endless talking,
life rebuilding,
don't walk away.

walk in silence,
don't turn away, in silence.
your confusion,
my illusion,
worn like a mask of self-hate,
confronts and then dies.
don't walk away.

people like you find it easy,
naked to see,
walking on air.
hunting by the rivers,
through the streets,
every corner abandoned too soon,
set down with due care.
don't walk away in silence,
don't walk away.

joy division, atmosphere, 1980, atmosphere ep #1

usual, trivial and inevitable

sometimes we need to feel that we do matter, that we're not just another passer by in the sidewalk of life. yes, it is always uneven, as i've explained somewhere below. i have no illusions on that subject. to get less than what i desire is usual, is common. it's inevitable. one gets used to it and moves along. to get back much less than what we give, or than what we'd be willing to give, now that messes me up. and yet, it is also usual, trivial and inevitable.

and i like the word 'uneven'.

the food chain

when trapped on the bottom of the food chain, a creature has but one choice. it can grow natural defenses, like camouflage, armoured skin, barbed thorns, venomous glands, thus surviving by defense and self-preservation. or it can become a predator, and force its way to the top of the chain - thus surviving by fury and revenge.

what remains yet to be seen is whether i evolve to spikes and poison or to talons and fangs.

wrong message

argument. one of the parts involved leaves the discussion thinking "i could convince them and pass my message perfectly". the other part involved smiles in the inside and thinks "let him think that he was brilliant when he said nothing but bullshit". it's so funny when it happens.

and yes, the blog is slowing down

which is something i saw coming for a long, long time. i'm still wondering how could i keep up the sprint for so many months.

between the lines

most conversations are relevant not by what is clearly said, but what is said between the lines - or even outside any line.

upper hand

mathematically speaking, relationships are always uneven. what a gives to b seldom is the same than b gives to a - regardless of who gives more or less to the other. yet each one of them wants to get the most out of that relationship - and hence why it is pointless for a and b to discuss the subject by comparing their situations with other "similar" cases. and the reason for this is, each part will conveniently forget some details and underline others, in order to get the upper hand.

if i agree that most personal relationships shall not be ruled by mathematics and logics, working relationships cannot work in any other way. we might want to make others think that we're quite honest, but we are always hiding something. for our own sake.

breaking point

most of times, the breaking point of any situation is unexpected. but sometimes we can clearly see it coming. we can predict the choice that it will imply, and understand the consequences of the option taken. as for myself, i'm merely waiting.

stating the obvious, but still

some words can make all the difference - both when they are spoken or left unspoken.

sometimes it's impossible to keep falling down

if we have nothing, or almost nothing to lose, should we care? no. considering my worst case scenario, would it be much worse than it is now? i don't think so. so any change, be it a good change, or a bad one, might have a positive outcome in the end.

and yet someone lacks balls here, and i'm sure as hell that it's not me.

polarity shift

we can go on doing everything as it pleases us. everything has a consequence - cause and effect, the ruling law of the universe. it might take a while, but everything we do will eventually come back to us. yet the polarities might shift. i mean, sometimes we do something wrong, and the outcome is something good (or not that bad). sometimes we do the right thing and get fucked up because of it. and sometimes we try really hard to do the right thing and we can't, so the consequences won't be pleasant.

if it makes you happy...

... then why the hell are you so sad?

sheryl crow

speak your mind

it is so easy to ruin something. most of times, we just have to let our mind speak through our mouths.

drums of war (requiem for lothorethiel)

replying to alice's challenge as a drummer. sadly i can't write poetry, but i believe my worlds can meet the challenge.

*dum* *dum* *dum*

it was not an usual sound in her battlefields. elven hears were used to the deep wooden trumps echoing through the valleys, urging their armies to battle. yet this was no elven army - at least, not any more -, and arienoë was in no position to complain.

and she remembered the glory and the splendor of the elven legions - glimmering with their shiny plate armours, carrying long and sharp spears and broadswords. elves of lothorethiel were infallible with the bow, and from behind of lines of spear-armed warriors, rows and rows of deadly volleys were shot towards their foes. and the druids, the mighty druids, usually dressed in light armor with the colours of nature, called the wrath of the land upon their enemies.

and yet it hasn't been enough to stop those enemies. they emerged from the depths of the underworld to lay siege on lothorethiel. led by a powerful and devious fallen angel, the demons laid waste to the great forest. thousands, perhaps millions of trees were chopped to fuel the demonic war effort, or simply burned. great cities of marble and oaks and vines were levelled. the elves fought back though, and demons died in scores as the land itself rose in anger to punish those who were despoiling it.

but the despoilers were too powerful even for the land.

*dum* *dum* *dum*

and with the king and the ranger-general of lothorethiel gone, saved from the fall of the city of elviondel, the bulk of their armies was ruthlessly killed in the ruined forest - leaving the young druid alone with a band of rag-tag survivors from the slaughter. they fled from the fallen nation, towards the southern regions between the mountains and the sea. and there, they mourned for their losses. but it was no longer time to mourn.

it was time to retaliate.

and the drums of war would play the requiem for lothorethiel.

*dum* *dum* *dum*

the drums were not an elven artifact. but the conflict was no longer an elven war. lost in the contested lands, arienoë and her band of rebells came across the inhabitants of those lands - dwarves, orcs and minotaurs. those races were sworn enemies, and usually fought against themselves, alliances forming and dissolving to fast for any observer to follow. yet they were not figthing against themselves now - at least, not the ones who joined arienoë. they were together, old enemies side by side. they had cast their hatreds aside, and their resolve was only one - to strike back.

*dum* *dum* *dum*

the orcs came up with the drums. they said the beat would induce a blood frenzy to anyone who listened to it. she didn't know if it was true - for the time being, they merely marched with their rhythm. but there were strange powers in the nature, she knew that much. and knowing the savagery with which the orcs fought, she wouldn't be surprised that they had something to spike their rage.

*dum* *dum* *dum*

their march came to a halt in the borders of the now burned forest. the dying woods stung painfully in arienoë's heart, like the agonizing scream of a wounded animal. yet underneath the charred earth, the broken twigs and bloodstained leaves, the land still pulsed with life. it was already healing - slowly but steadily. but more than that, the land pulsed with despair, with a powerful desire for vengeance. arienoë understood that, and at the head of the ragged army she led, she drew from it.

*dum* *dum* *dum*

the demonic army sensed their presence, the steady rhythm of the war drums. they gathered and rushed to meet the alliance. the elves prepared their arrows and their spears. orc and dwarven warriors drew their battle axes. minotaurs took their halberds and prepared for the incoming battle. orc shamans conjured the wind and the lightning, urging the nature to fight by their side. and at the head of the army, arienoë summoned the land.

*dum* *dum* *dum*

and the land answered the young druid's summonings. the roots and twigs of the few surviving trees reached out, grabing the demons and taking them to the air, or locking their armoured feet to the floor. vines leapt at the invading warriors, binding their movements and slashing their blackened skin with venomous thorns. the earth turned to mud, slowing down the demons. and suddenly in the middle of the enemy army, the ground erupted violently and two giant wurms emerged from their underground dephts.

and their eyes shone in red, as if the blood of the spoiled land had flowed into them.

*dum* *dum* *dum*

and arienoë noticed that the eyes of their warriors, that her own eyes, were suddenly red as well. and they pulsed, just like their hearts pulsed. the rhythm was the same.

the rhythm came from the orc drums.

*dum* *dum* *dum*

and she felt a sudden surge of power growing inside of her, flowing through her veins. it was her own power and the power of the suffering land, burning for revenge as the wind summoned by the shamans halted the demon's advance and lightning bolts mercilessly stroke their ranks. she and every warrior listening to the steady drum beat felt a strange frenzy, a sudden bloodlust, an ache for carnage and violence. the wurms' eyes burned eerily like a wildfire.

and arienoë let the wildfire loose at the rhythm of war drums.

*dum* *dum* *dum*

and hundreds of demons died - pierced by arrows, disemboweled by battle axes, beheaded by halberds, impaled by spears and smashed or swallowed whole by the pair of angry wurms. roots and vines strangled dozens of demons, and beasts like boars, bears and wildcats pressed forward, tearing through the enemy ranks with the fury of the nature itself. lightning strikes randomly incinerated everything they touched, and the howling wind scattered the ash and dust and dead leaves that covered the floor, blinding the demons, the enemies of the land. and arienoë kept pushing the nature forward, until the remaining demons had no other option than to flee, to run away from the vicious retribution of the land they despoiled. a retribution that gave them no pause, that hunted them through the dying forests with the will to slaughter every single one of them. a vengeance with red eyes, blood-red eyes that pulsed like a heartbeat at the rhythm of the drums of war.

blindness

somethings are better left unknown. for example, i've met people who would like to know when they were to die, so they could prepare and make the best out of their lifes - as for myself, i can't imagine anything more painful than that. yet sometimes i'd really like to know what lies ahead. not my death, of course, but smaller things, little consequences of choices i know i'll end up facing. but alas, i know now what is about to come, so i'm left blind in the darkness.

in the end, it's all a matter of trust. we can try to trust someone, but a small cloud of doubt always remains, always lingers in the back of our minds (and we'd be blind by faith if the sky was unclouded). and past experiences are not always helpful. not at all.

dreaming

the ability given to the weirdest and most unlikely people we know to sneak into our dreams is something uncanny.

no second thought

some people point out that i'm selfish (it was even the topic of a hot discussion in this blog some weeks ago). if you ask me, i'm not selfish enough. i should be more (i should have been more). some people do not deserve the smallest fraction of our consideration, one nanosecond of our thoughts. some people must be screwed, must be fucked up whenever we get the chance to do it - because whenever they get the chance to do it to us, they do it without a second thought.

and, you know, there is no such thing as society.

i think we've been through a period where too many people have been given to understand that if they have a problem, it's the government's job to cope with it. 'i have a problem, i'll get a grant.' 'i'm homeless, the government must house me.' they're casting their problem on society. and, you know, there is no such thing as society. there are individual men and women, and there are families. and no government can do anything except through people, and people must look to themselves first. it's our duty to look after ourselves and then, also to look after our neighbour. people have got the entitlements too much in mind, without the obligations. there's no such thing as entitlement, unless someone has first met an obligation.

- margaret tatcher, october 31, 1987

the "iron lady" is obviously right.

and, you know, there is no such thing as society.

we human beings constantly fall prey to our nature. millennia of civilization meant only to form a "society" that could bend our basic (and feral) instincts for the sake of the so-called "common good". and often we have forgotten, the "common good" cannot be acheived by the individual misery of each one. the bottom line is not without a sense of irony: the more selfish we are, the better we're working towards the "common good".

again, retribution

it felt like poetic justice, if you ask me - to have in my hands such an opportunity of revenge that my foe almost crapped his pants in fear.

earthquake

there are two ways of predicting a big, destructive earthquake - the animals behave differently (birds stop singing, for example) and small earthquakes that cannot almost be felt. so you see, little, often insignificant things can be the herald of woe.