April 30, 2009
myths about myself (II)
April 29, 2009
on memories (II)
myths about myself
i never did.
but the memory remains - a memory of something i never did. of something that never happened. it's interesting to see how we can create memories of events that never took place, or even of places where we've never been. sounds weird, i know, but it happens. especially when it involves someone else, someone who was somehow special back then. i've never been on that small spot on the cliff, but if eventually i go there, i'll remember her, and how i should have gone there with her - not in the present, but in the past. in a long lost past that is not missed anymore nonetheless.
what about future memories? memories of something that hasn't yet happened? those are tricker, but they happen to - often when we want something to happen so much that we picture it all on our head with coloured crayons. and then we long for what we haven't lived yet. we might not even live it, ever - but in our minds we did, and the picture drawned and painted in that glorious morning will remain. and it will come back to us if we ever get there, and not without a faint feeling of sadness. for what should have happened.
April 28, 2009
it's funny. so many years later and your old sin catches up with you and hits you right in the face. you haven't felt it yet. but you will. and then you'll remember everything that you have sacrificed needlessly. and then you'll remember me. had you asked earlier and i would have warned you - not that you would have listened, but i would have warned you nonetheless. now i won't. i'm taking no sides, but as i decided not to pass judgement over one, i won't help the other either. i will just see it all fall. won't even turn my back on you, just as you probably deserved. i will just stay there. watching the ruins. going nowhere, doing nothing. just watching.
note to self
i flunked at probabilities. so what?
this is almost an excuse for the fact that i've been writing less and less lately, and that trend is most likely to go on. almost, i said. i'll see what i can do meanwhile.
April 27, 2009
April 25, 2009
start to move
and i can say that blasted mechanism are better than ever. would like to post here a video, but i was too busy trying not to hit the floor yesterday during the gig - something i could not avoid in the end. heh. it was all so funny.
April 24, 2009
cloud cuckoo land
April 23, 2009
god damn it.
i became an adult yesterday.
i don't know where i read it. nor do i know who said it. but it was something like this: one starts being an adult when talking about our problems does not help us any more. so it all now makes sense somehow.
April 22, 2009
small and frail.
April 21, 2009
... i should start believing in coincidences after all.
(three hours ago this made more sense than it does now.)
i'm wondering: what will i do if that really comes to happen? unlikely? yes, perhaps, but i guess almost all the odds were challenged already. so let's make it all simple and assume it does happen just like that: what would i do? for years i thought about it, told that idea out loud, tested reactions, checked opinions. while at the same time i called upon every little thing that could get in the way to stop me going further. fear? perhaps. in the end, there are no excuses to hide that, no good ones (thankfully no one has ever asked the right questions). and as such i went on, waiting for the perfect timing that will never happen. i know that. i know that all too well.
i had never considered the other situation though, and right now it hits me right in the face: what if..? and then i have to add that other variable to the equation, and find a way to solve it somehow. and what if it comes to happen? will i have what it takes within me to gamble everything? or will i find yet another excuse to go on hiding as i've done so far? time will tell, i guess...
the funny thing is, i actually believe that deep down, you know this just as i do.
April 20, 2009
i'd really like to know
April 19, 2009
don't... tempt... me..!
and in case no one has noticed it,
and i know no one did, the post below, although true (skype really did that), is absolutely irrelevant. it means nothing, it's something so uninteresting that i would never post it here in a normal situation. this isn't a normal situation though; and even though there's so much that could be said, nothing comes out and i'm just standing here with this smile on my face. it's funny. i've forgotten the last time i smiled like that. anyway, back to the topic: the post above is there because i needed to say something when i had something to say and couldn't. confusing? yes, i know. let me explain it again. or rather, let quentin tarantino do it:
don't you hate that?
uncomfortable silences. why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
i don't know.
that's when you know you found somebody special. when you can just shit the fuck up for a minute, and comfortably share silence.
i don't think we're there yet. but don't feel bad, we just met each other.
(...) [pulp fiction]
i've reinstalled skype on my laptop, needing a stable and cheap (well, free) way to make long-distant calls. had never installed the current version, and when i did, the software didn't ask me for any previous account, any e-mail address, any name or password, nothing. it just logged in...
... and displayed my name and a real-life friend in my contact list. this is creepy: how the hell did skype know that?
April 17, 2009
readers' blog: traces of sand
We stop for a second and look back and see these patterns. Our own history, experiences, and we study them, one by one. Some people will go back, and even make new prints. They’ll try cover some up with sand, and it works. For a while. They are still there you know? The prints. Hidden maybe, but we know they are there.
The waves are strong this evening. Dark and powerful, as I fall to my knees looking over my shoulder. Two pair of prints, side by side, and the salty taste from the sea and the cold on my chin makes me wonder. There are moments in life we walk alone, because we have to or we have no choice. I see these pair of prints and as I look towards the horizon, the sand beside me shiver by the weight of someone approaching and I think to myself; right now I don’t have to walk alone and I’ll embrace this moment for as long as I have it.
April 16, 2009
small is beautiful? not necessarily.
mind you, there is an exception to this rule: sometimes you meet someone and there is something so intense between both of you that all the words simply come out, naturally and true to themselves. like an electric current, or a tidal force seemingly unstoppable. sometimes you meet someone and you feel no need to wear any of your masks when talking to them - you can simply be yourself. but how many people like this you meet during your lifetime? one? two? three if you're lucky? always too few. but is it always worth meeting them.
April 15, 2009
(list under update)
April 13, 2009
the following film is made of awesome
April 12, 2009
easter in the village (III)
the walk takes us to the local schools - the schools i attended to in the early years of my life. i remember the old builings, the closed yard where we played football whenever we could. i remember the huge pine trees, those that were full of those nasty allergy-carrier catterpillars every winter - i remember one day when we took down a lot of nests, made a pile with them, smeared gasoline all over and watched them burn. i remember the huge sandbox of the playground, the rusty iron structures where we play. i even remember the airplace - yes, we did have an airplane in our playground. a real one, a weathered war machine, a broken mesh of twisted metal, sharp edges and broken glass. i remember the walls surrounding the schools - not really high, so even a seven-year old kid could climb them with ease. that is all gone now. the plane was dismantled a long time ago, and taken somewhere else to rust in peace. the pine trees were chopped down. the closed yard was split in two and rebuild, following all modern security rules. the sandbox has been removed and replaced by some kind of clean rubber cover. it is impossible to find mud or loose stones in that playground, and i wonder if the grass is real or artificial. a huge metallic fence was build over the walls, so no one can get in or out. a modern school, they say, where children can be safe from everything, even from themselves. a prison, i say, one that would make any child of my generation sad as hell. we are raising kids in an artificial world, where they can not run freely or understand the notion of danger. we are creating a society of lunatics. the insanity has reached my village. and it makes me sad.
guess what? my knees bear scars. a lot of scars. i've lost count on how many times i've hurt them and watch them bleed. and i survived it. those kids wouldn't. i'm truly sorry for them.
easter in the village (II)
easter in the village (I)
April 09, 2009
quoth the raven (XLV):
He had never felt this before - not when Henry Cameron colapsed in the office at this feet, not when he saw Steven Mallory sobbing on a bed before him. Those moments have been clean. But this was pity - this complete awareness of a man without worth or hope, this sense of finality, of not to be redeemed. There was shame in this feeling - his own shame that he should have to pronounce such judgement upon a man, that he should know an emotion which contained no shred of respect.
This is pity, he thought, and then he lifted his head in wonder. He thought that there must be something terribly wrong with a world in which this monstrous feeling is called a virtue.
ayn rand, the fountainhead
have a nice easter. i'll be back in a few days.
April 08, 2009
but why am i remembering all this? oh, that's right: because of the power we have to influence someone's attitudes towards someone else. the power we have to make personal "smear campaigns". i'm thinking about someone in particular, of course, and in the possibility that such a smear campaign might be running. against me, that is. that person would be stupid and low enough for that. but such an attempt is meant to fail, eventually, because there's someone with more power of influence on my side... and that's rather ironic. but i would never expect that a former friend would declare war on such terms against me. the next months will be funny indeed.
tonight i'll talk about a girl. mind you, i don't know her, and i don't think i'll ever do - as a matter of fact, i don't think i'll ever see her again. but i noticed her, of course i noticed her, the whole world faded out of existence during the movie break when me and her were smoking outside. she was staring at the street, apparently unaware of everything. she had a thin face with expressive dark eyes - she was not exactly the prettiest or the hottest girl on earth. her hair was dark as well, reaching her shoulders and framing her face and neck perfectly. she was wearing a black overcoat, a knee-lenght pleated skirt and simple boots. she seemed distant, cold even, while staring outside - and she had this remarkable way of holding her cigarrette and puffing out the smoke. she wasn't obviously pretty, or sexy - but her face and her figure had a beauty of her own, an uniqueness that truly fascinated me; the way she was dressed and the way she moved had an elegance as i had never seen before.
she reminded me of someone. someone from a movie. rachael, from blade runner. somehow, she made me think of her.
April 07, 2009
being 'alternative' is overrated.
your little speech (intended as a joke but meant seriously; i've already caught the way you have to say that kind of things) brought back to my memory a different conversation, one about clothes - and indirectly, about the clothes i wear and the way i dress. i agree that our clothes show pretty much about ourselves, and i'm no exception to that: i don't care much about my outer self, by the way i look, and so i'm quite careless when dressing. irresponsible, even. chaotic, if you prefer. someone hinted in that conversation - never directly, of course - that i don't know how to dress myself. quite right - i don't.
the fact is, apparel is way to overrated. i know that we never get a second chance to cause a first good impression on others, but the fact that most of times that first good impression is purely based in what we're wearing - in prices, brands, style - is rather unfair. i don't care about what i wear - give me some jeans, a plain t-shirt and sneakers and i'm good to go. will someone else be better than me - more intelligent, more interesting, more funny, more stupid, whatever - just because he's wearing trendy clothes? i don't think so. i really don't think so. "but then you can't go to certain places", you tell me. true. i can't. but that's not because of what i (don't) wear - i could adapt myself, and if i don't know how to dress myself smartly, then i could ask a girl friend to help me out on that (lol). i simply don't care to go to a place when they sort people out for what they're wearing, that's all. it's seldom my kind of place. i'm sorry, i'm sorry - i'm the kind of guy who prefers a good pub (where it is allowed to smoke, if you don't mind), with not-too-loud music so people can talk and listen to each other without shouting, and having a beer without giving the right arm for it because they cost basically the same than a complete lunch on my usual restaurant. it's not that i will never break a little. but it won't be something that will thrill me.
so you see, i'm not alternative, not in any way. the so-called "alternative" people seek out to be different - visually speaking - so they can stand out. it's just another kind of self-affirmation by what they look like. i prefer to have people judge me after they get to know me. it gives me more trouble, right, but allows me to get rid of those i don't care to know - the ones who will stick to the first glance they take at me.
remember, john: googles always knows.
April 06, 2009
i told you it was fucking brilliant:
an almost real conversation*:
she: don't you have anything new to tell me?
me: what news could i possibly have to tell you?
she: i don't know, isn't there nothing new in your life concerning love?
me (chuckling): concerning love. no, there's nothing new. perhaps next year.
she: next year? now why on earth do you say that?
me: i don't know. suppose it's a date like any other else, right? could say "ask me next week". can't afford the optimism, though. so i say next year.
she: so you still have a long way ahead...
me: so i suppose.
she: well, you guys always have a good hand to rely upon.
she: it will be until it hurts.
she: but don't you miss it?
me: what? wanking?
she: no, silly. having someone.
me: i might. but you know, after a while, it's all the same. you won't even miss it anymore. you just get used to it.
she: not much of a choice there, after all.
me: i don't know, i suppose everyone falls apart eventually. i mean, five years is one hell of a long time.
she: long and heavy, when everything is crumbling down.
me: you bet. i tell you what, i won't give them much more time. they'll be over until the end of the year.
she: the end of the year? but you don't mean that you and...
me: for god's sake, no, i don't mean that. me and... christ, that would be impossible.
she: like you and me getting laid, i suppose.
me: yeah, something like that. thanks for ruining my wet dreams.
she (giggling): oh, come on.
*i've not quoted everything, and somethings were changed. obviously.
not everything, but enough.
have you also noticed how i've told you enough to keep you happy without telling you what really mattered? probably you have noticed it - or you should have, at least - because i don't really have a poker face and i let out too many things.
April 05, 2009
i haven't finished it yet,
April 04, 2009
some wrongs are just right.
April 03, 2009
raining cats and dogs
but there are more differences. cats are independent - most of them, that is. they have more personality. dogs require more attention. my old phylosophy teacher told me once the fundamental difference between cats and dogs. it is a joke, of course, but one that hides the truth underneath:
"a dog stares at his owner and thinks: this fellow over here, he feeds me good food, he provides me shelter, he plays with me, he takes me out for a walk. he must truly be god. while a cat staring at his owner would think: this guy over there, he feeds me, he provides me shelter and a clean sandbox, he plays with me, he lets me do whatever i want. i truly must be god!"
a perfect farewell
if i were to leave, to depart from here, i would want no one saying goodbye, waving at me from the terminal's glass gates. i would want no one there, for that matter. i've mused about that several times, whenever i took a plane to somewhere else - what if one day i get here again, and got into that plane again, only without a return ticket? all the times i've returned, i felt sad somehow, sad for never having anyone waiting for me, welcoming me back - and that has shown me that, in a way, there is little of me in this strange land i call home. but if i'm ever meant to leave without no planned return, i will want no one around me. no farewell. no goodbye. no empty words. i just want to leave the terminal and enjoy my lask cigarrette here, and take a long, deep breath before i board and leave. that would be my perfect farewell.
April 02, 2009
dead air space (II)
(...) several of the "idioteque" lyrics (as well as those of certain other songs from the period) are audibly different in live performance. the "idioteque" lyrics, like others on kid a, were created from cutting up phrases and drawing them from a hat.
April 01, 2009
dead air space*
the song ["like spinning plates"] is built over the reversed backing track of an electronic version of the then unreleased "i will" (which would later be released in a much different form on hail to the thief). according to thom yorke, in an interview with the wire, "we'd turned the tape [of "i will"] around, and i was in another room, heard the vocal melody coming backwards, and thought, 'that's miles better than the right way round', then spent the rest of the night trying to learn the melody."
colin greenwood said of the vocals, "in copenhagen, i was listening to woman's hour. they were talking about this english composer, whose name i can't remember, who wrote a piece of music for a singer where all the phrasings were backward but she sung it forward. thom sung the backwards melody. it was recorded forward then listened to backwards and he did the phrasing so as to create backward sounding words but it's sung forwards. it's kind of my favourite track."
*the post was previously titled like spinning plates, after the radiohead's song i've mentioned. i've changed it because i intend to post more curious things about them - as if that would help making them coming back for a gig in portugal.