Posts

Showing posts from 2013

making decisions / making changes

Image
New year's coming. With it, people tend to make decisions and plans: some wan to get a better job; others want to get a boyfriend / girlfriend; some want to travel; others want to see this or that; and the never ending list of what people want alwyas pop up in the New Year's time. Some people write their plans down. Others keep them in their inds and hearts, as I do, like if it were some kind of praying they kept repeating with their whole hearts. I am not going to type down about my plans. Seems this is the year for some people to start planning their New Coming Year's movements. It's the same for me. I am not looking any of the entries of the previous New Years' eves. If I have ever said that I was planning anything for the coming years, I would have been lying. This is the first year that I am planning something. And by planning, I am writing about something that when December started, I have decided and that I have started even before the month has begun. A

I've survived

Image
I've survived! While walking the cold dark streets, I was thinking about this. I've survived! What have I survived to? I have survived to the death of dearest people of mine. People that I have never thought I could live any further without; I have survived to the death of pets; I have survived to the streets and its' thugs; I have survived to bad companies and I have survived to the separation of the most dearest people and friends; I have surived to the death of some friends: some were old enough to be my grandparents, others could be my brothers; I have survived to disease; I have survived to depression, self-hate and self-esteem. I have survived to long hours of planning to what my suicide and to what my funeral would be like; I have survived to the destruction of my soul; I have to way too many things. The list keeps going. The list is way bigger and I have always been like cats: I have multiple lifes and I have wasted quite a few of them. I have alwa

Writing

Image
It turns out hard to write! It turns out hard to write poetry, stories or whatever I want to write! Last night, I've started to type a short story and after two pages it got deleted! I will not go further on details, names, dates, but yep, this happens! Yep, it has happened: the short story has been triggered by a message on Facebook and I've go throught that thinking about people. It would be a rude, dirty, kinky story and I have started to think that I would have to change the whole concept of it, so that lots of blood and torture could be included! But nah... It got deleted! In my poetry, I also write about people! I write about events, without great details! I write about life! The more important is to live and only then to write: without living, I wouldn't have anything to write about! If I went to write about my feelings only, it would be a neverending weeping-bible and that's not the point... that's not my point at all! It's time to end up here... o

Daywalk In The Woods

Image
I have mentioned in the previous post that I have had things to do in the morning. Alongside with the sleepless night, foccused in other stuffs, I have gone for a walk after I have got all the things done. This walk has been very different of the ones I am used to do. I have had the chance to go for a walk in royal woods. According to what I have read in the message's board, with the info about that place, one of the Portuguese queens ordered that a wall was built around the woods. In the middle, there's a clearing. Lots of paths. Lots of trees. Peace. Quiet. Humidity. Someday, with paper and colouring materials, I could definitely give a tr on going there and sitting somewhere in the woods, painting. Or I could grab my notebooks and my pens and I cold sit down there, writing. Letting the things go with the flow. Maybe my writings could get anything different, than what they get from the night and day views of my city. Maybe, even highed, my thoughts would be different from

Neurotic (Christmas is coming!)

Image
I haven't slept last night. I have had things to do this morning and as I was fearing to keep sleeping, I have prefered to stay awake, doing other stuffs. I am almost fainting with the need of sleep. I am tired. I have walked a lot. But this... well, about walkings and other stuffs, I think I'll let them be for later on. Maybe to the next entry. I am feeling neurotic, like I always feel when Christmas is too close. I thought that I wouldn't type about this. I also have decided to avoid thinking about this. But the fact is that all this fucking Christmas thing is annoying me pretty much. Christmas is supposed to be the family's eve and I don't have much of what I can call of a family. My father died in 1997 (do the maths and you'll be able to reach there). After his death, "his" family entered in a war with my mother. It isn't necessary to say that this has driven us to walk different and separate paths. The only family that I have considered as

Christmas and New Year's eve / Sex and Creation

Image
Typing or writing hasn't been an easy thing. I think that in my previous posts I have left this way clear. But still I try. Still I struggle and fight to get all the things done. He I am, in the end of the afternoon, typing in a bare empty cafe. Not the cafe where I usually go, so that I can ensure to be left quiet and alone. I have felt sad. Strangely melancholic. There are pointless and useless topics to type about. I have writen a phrase and it has been deleted right away. People don't need t know eveything about my life. And it can be applied to some people in my life, who tend to ask me to help them with quests I am not really into. Then they realise they won't be getting my hand on those errands, so them use other people to pressure and to, in a last instance, to embarrass me. It's ok. It's everything ok. Christmas is coming. In a week, it'll be the day of the year I hate the most. I haven't writen or typed about this yet. I've even avoided to

Days without typing

Days without typing. Days without proper writing. Last night, I've writen a couple more of poems. I am honestly doubting of the quality of my verses. I am honestly wishing to publish them. Days without typing and my mind goes blank when I sit in front of the tablet. When I am at home, without Internet connection, it seems way easier to think about something that I could write. Then in front of the paper or in front of the tablet, it all vanishes away. Days without typing and it seems so wicked and twisted this way.  Wish I could go back to painting and drawing, with the security that I used to feel in times. But it seems impossible now. Days without typing or writing. Days without being able to le my soul flow. Good afternoon!

pensamentos íntimos

Image
Não existe amor que valha a pena! Hoje o amor é tudo e amanhã nada é! Eu queria ser o mar, a areia, o mundo inteiro! Eu queria as horas doridas e os espasmos de criar. Eu queria aquele orgasmo... aquela sensação de orgasmo após expulsar, de dentro da alma, a escuridão! Pelo amor percorri os mais sujos e abandonados lugares. E hoje, esses mesmos lugares são parte de mim. O amor? Tanto o desejei... de igual modo o detesto (quem me dera desprezá-lo, ser-lhe indiferente, sem qualquer mácula na minha, já muito maculada, alma!). O amor que tudo era, sobre ele abate-se toda a minha raiva. E nem mesmo um toque ou um carinho eu aceito (e quem me toca por graça, pelo prazer de me enfurecer, tem de mim todo o ódio que é possível destilar-se num coração!)!

muitas coisas sem fazerem qualquer sentido

Image
Não penso em alongar-me com grandes questões. O tempo está a passar e não permite. Seja como for, sabe quem me conhece que isso pode não acontecer. Há muitas coisas que encaixam nos sítios certos. E há outras que não fazem grande sentido. Mas estas últimas, o tempo encarregar-se-á elas. Sempre foi assim. Há coisas que têm que ser feitas, mais do que faladas. E começa-se a fazer o que se deve. Mas ainda não é o suficiente, para aquilo que é necessário. Passa à frente. Avança um nível. Concentra-te! "Move your fucking ass", jovem! É mais que tempo de o fazeres! As questões da vida e do universo? Pode-se sempre fazê-lo, enquanto se concentra em viver uma vida correcta e diferente... porque, vindo de ti (de mim!), só se pode esperar alguma coisa diferente! O que não fz sentido? Deixa o tempo e  vida, como escreveste anteriormente, encarregarem-se disso. Fazem-no sempre, como bem sabes!

Mental Status: too highed for his own security!

Image
Where in this world? I've always thought an seriously imagined that when we've reached the adult age, there would be some kind of sign. Something truly markable. In the other day, I have realised that I am seriously a 26 years old man, mentally aged 15 and acting a bit alike that. Could have this been my own sign? I am in the cafe, but this is not comfortable to write. Maybe because there are too many familiar or friendly faces around. Maybe because I'm highed. Maybe not. I was in the right path. I have chosen to do the right thing. My heart was filled with good and honest intentions. And there gone the good intentions down the toilet yesterday in the afternoon. I choose. I mistake. Mea Culpa I am nothing. I have chosen to be nothing. I have chosen to act like that. Now I want to change no one truly believes me! Mea culpa Making much more sense to shut up, to lock my-fucking-self up at home, not allowing myself to see anyone, nor anyone to see me. It's my faul

no café

Num café onde somos habituais, encontramos sempre alguém que nos conhece ou de quem gostamos muito. É bom isso. A alguns, podemos até chamar de família. Por isso, alguns planos que tenhamos, podem ser postos de parte por um tempo. Para a nossa veia criativa, pode ser incómodo. Deixei de escrever e desenhar em público. Há sempre algo para se ver ou para se viver. Há sempre conversas a ter. Quando escrevo, estou em casa. Paredes que me são familiares. Carregam o peso de tantos anos ali vividos. É fim de tarde. Fim do meu texto. Não faz sentido - talvez faça o sentido todo!

Social utilities, hook up, blogging and ideas...

Image
I have been looking forward some way to type or write down. In the last few days, all I have been able to do was to try to write in my notebooks and pass the pen over what I have previously writen. Today, I have been at my aunt's house and I have spent the whole afternoon checking my Facebook, my Twitter , my Tumblr (where I have posted a few things, but they haven't been exactly what I was looking forward) and some other online stuffs. I have closed one social utility that was simply consuming my time, without a reason to. It was a website to meet people and I wasn't really interest on meeting anyone. It was just to see what was going on the single people's world. I have typed about closing my blogs. starting them all over, from the very beggining. I wouldn't be deleting any of my blogs, but they would be "abandoned". I would leave my old thoughts, with all the mistakes and all the longings, desires, hopes, melancholies. People would be able to see wher

Desmotivado e sem grande inspiração

Image
Encontro-me assim hoje, apesar de ter escrito uma entrada sobre as imagens que fui tirar ao google. Apesar de ter escrito uma entrada sobre motivação e dicas de escrita, estou desmotivado e sem inspiração p'ra grandes coisas e p'ra grandes textos. Acho que hoje, isto fica mesmo assim e por aqui. É escusado tentar e dar voltas e voltas, quando se escreve e se apaga repetidamente. Ou se risca, no caso dos cadernos, onde escrevo ideias e versos à mão. Era apenas isto. http://angelalucard.tumblr.com Nessa minha conta do tumblr, estão umas outras ideias escritas por mim. Uma coisa mínima e pouca, para toda uma tarde na Internet. Mas sempre é mais alguma coisa. Sempre é alguma coisa.

Motivational images / Browsing rules and tips

Image
I do speak quite a lot about my novels. I do type quite a lot about them. But I do not type them down. In times, I would sit in front of the computer and write. Write a lot, even if the final result wasn,t as good as I was expecting. But nowadays, it is something that I speak fondly about. In times, on my Greek goddess' blog, I've seen a post about something that she has found out online, with eight rules / advises for making writing easier. And I have thought about this lately. On my Facebook page, I do follow some pages with writing / artistic advises, pictures, quotes and whatever more that only God knows. And so I went to look for the images I have just downloaded to my aunt's tablet. The entry of my Greek goddess' blog with those simple rules is the following one. http://indigojester.blogspot.pt/2012/12/fantastic-amazing-hilarious-writing.html And off I go to browse for something more. Or off I go to play something in here. Or off I go to do anything el

Vou continuar à procura!

Image
Vou continuar à procura de mim mesmo! Vou continuar à procura de uma boca que se morda, de um corpo de um amante que se devore! Por entre as ruas escuras. Por entre os parques sombrios. Por entre os bosques esquecidos e que ainda não me atrevi a percorrer pelas noites de luar, vou continuar à procura. Vou continuar à procura de um momento de calma e de paz. Vou continuar à procura do tiro que ecoará nas noites mais silenciosas, penetrando o meu ser. Vou continuar à procura da mais gélida das lâminas do meu assassino! Não haverá luz e eu, ceguinho de tanta de luz, verei por entre as brumas e continuarei à procura. Por entre sepulturas esquecidas no tempo, vou continuar à procura de um Deus maior! E vou continuar à procura de uma fé sem mentiras! E vou continuar à procura do meu confessor! Vou continuar à procuro dos bens de que fui despojado! Vou continuar à procura daquele momento quente! Continuarei a minha incessante busca pela Morte, enquanto me restarem pedaços de vida! Vou continu

Nightwalks, full moon, conversations and subtile messages

Image
The full moon was shinning last night. Like I've done more often lately, I have decided to do a night walk, after a few minor events. While walking down the streets to return home due to boredom (I had not my earphones with me, so no music at all for me), I have met a boy who's the neighboor of a friend. They have gone to a darts' championship, but this boy has decided to return earlier. He asked if I wanted some company to go to my building. I replied to him that I didn't wanted to go home, so he has joined me on a long night walk. While walking up and down the streets, we've been chatting and the chit chat turned onto a very interesting conversation with many topics, sexuality included. We have walked the streets, while we were talking. And when things hitted the sexuality topic, it felt like he was sending me a subtile message that he was needing something, although that he has said to me that he was straight, he had never tried anything with another man and h

Alter-egos, e-books and writing

Image
I have recently started a blog with my American friend, Ering Leigh. At the time that we've been talking about the blog, I have asked her if she was using any kind of nickname or if she wold be signing with her real name. She said that she was signing it with her name: she's never been anything else than Erin and she loved her name. She's the Sad Tomato: the kind of name that I've read from her a while ago, I don,t know on which occasion. And it's a pretty nice name. I have been thinking seriously about my nickname. I am using my real names: Bruno Miguel. But I have also thought on signing those entries as Angel Alucard. In fact, I have changed the authoring name to Angel Alucard and I just put it back to Bruno Miguel. It is being a strange thing to struggle about another name to use. Angel Alucard is somewhat of my alter-ego. More than simply one of the characters of the novels that I keep typing about (without typing the novels), he's just part of me; he'

Eu escrevo, sim

Image
Escrevo para encher as horas vazias. Escrevo para me livrar dos meus pensamentos. Escrevo para exorcizar a solidão. Escrevo para dar ideias ao mundo de que sou mais iluminado. Esrevo... Escrevo, muitas vezes, sem saber aquilo que escrevo. Sem saber aquilo que quero escrever. Escrevo para gritar de revolta ou chorar de tristeza. Escrevo para mentir. Escrevo para "falar" as verdades. Escrevo para deixar sair tudo aquilo que sinto ter que deixar sair. Aquela ideia de me livrar dos meus pensamentos? É para isso que escrevo. E nem sempre faço alarido sobre os meus escritos. Nem sempre deixo saber que há algo de novo para se ler. Nem sempre publico nos locais habituais, mas sim, escrevo. Sim, vou escrevendo. Escrevo quase compulsivamente. Antes desenhava e fingia pintar (ou fazia tentativas disso). Hoje tenho a escrita, porque perdi-me da pintura. Por isso, escrevo sim! Escrevo. Tento escrever versos. Por vezes, escrevo pequenos textos: quase entradas de diários, quase textos intim

Terei que dizer-te adeus?

Image
Já escrevi no meu outro blog. Uma tarde atarefada, cheia de certas coisas que têm que ser feitas. Não vou repetir tudo. Lisboa! Minha adorada e amada Lisboa! Terei que dizer-te adeus? Há já algum tempo que não caminho as tuas ruas. Por muito má que sejas, por pior que este meu Cacém que tu possas ser, ter-te-ei sempre no meu coração. Terei que dizer-te adeus, em prol de uma qualquer cidade europeia? Por muito má, serás sempre a minha capital. Serás sempre uma das minhas ciades de eleição e, p'ra mim, serás sempre a mais bela do mundo. Terei que dizer-te adeus? Lisboa à tarde. Lisboa à noite. Lisboa de manhã. Lisboa. Lisboa. Lisboa.

A busy afternoon

Image
I could plan what I wanted to type one million times. I could plan, soeak those lines to myself countless times and still wouldn't work out. Whenever I finally sit to type, things would be vanished! I want to play one of the many games that I've download for my aunt's tablet (some of them require an Internet connection, what means that I need to play them here), but I never start playing without doing everything that I need to do first. A boy who I now, showed me the European Card of Health services. If you're an European citizen, travelling throu the European Union, Switzerland, Iceland and another country ending in Land whose name I can't remember, you should have one. It assures you medical assistance, in case you get sick and need to go to an ER. In the other hand, it's pretty useless if you have a chronic disease and you want or need to move along to another country. I'm working on getting that card, but it'll be a bit useless for me. My friend

To a very special friend

Image
Give me your hand! Out of their abandon, I'll carry you away with me! There won't be any more pain! There won't be no more hate! So many people out there and not even a single really matters. What matters the world? What matters what they say? Who really cares? Out of pain, hate, hopeless thoughts and feelings, we're just like ghosts: they don't notice us. We see the truth through and out of them. We feel their pain. We feel their fear. We taste the poison in their souls. In the lights of the city, we see loneliness mirrored. I feel like the old and smelly river crossing my city. You're just like the night sky of your own city. Our shadows make no difference. Not now. But when we leave this world behind, when we're finally the stardust, what will mater what they've said? A tiny waterfall makes it typical sound close to an old house. The woods surrounding it almos hide your place. The woods almost hide you. But your energy is strong: I can feel it!

too many e-mail accounts

Through the years, I've created several e-mail accounts. Some of them, I didn't even have thought about them, exceot when I've needed to get a new account somewhere else and when I've needed to get a different e-mail for that: I didn't wanted that the blog that I've secretely got (when the storm hitted my life) got attached to these ones, it's dead by now, but the yahoo e-mail serves for my newer blog with Sad Tomato (Erin). Also for that blog, I've had to get a gmail.com account. According to what I remember, gmail allows us to get the e-mail from other e-mail accounts. If it can get more than e-mail atached to it, that's a fair simple and plain solution for the amount of e-mail. Continuing with this, I also have a secret e-mail account for secret twitter and tumblr accounts. I think that I will have to check this most recent gmail account: if I can attached all of my e-mails to it, it'll be nice. I can just get a new one, for job issues and al

Já foi tudo dito (só mentiras)

O que poderei dizer? Que mais posso eu dizer? Sinto que já disse tudo o que tinha para dizer. E muito do que disse, foi mentira. Minto quando digo que não quero (e é algo que chego a querer, a desejar e a necessitar)! Um dos meus momentâneos amantes, entre beijos e coisas mais, perguntou-me: "estás carente, não estás?". E fui obrigado a enfrentar essa verdade e a assumi-la. E entre coisas de amantes, perdi-me nuns braços estranhos (apenas mais uns), após assumir algo que, nem para mim mesmo, me atrevo a deixar-me pensar. E fico-me pelos braços de amantes em carros ou camas alheias. Em lugares frios e impessoais, onde não existe um "nós", onde não existiu e onde não existirá. A sombra de mais um dia ou de mais um momento. E é a isso que se resume a minha existência: a ser uma eterna sombra de mim mesmo, sem nunca procurar algo mais do que isso!

I've been dreaming

I have been dreaming. I have been dreaming out of a conversation. A little mention and it is an excuse for me to make a big movie within my mind. I have been dreaming and my dream has been just that, without hopes: a stupid dream. But it's a dream. And a dream is always a dream. I want to spread my wings and fly away. I feel trapped with chains. Unbreakable chains of gold. There's no great love for me. There are no great hopes. Reality touches and runs away. Reality strikes in dreams. Reality strikes in lies. In truths. I am hoping for that never coming day. I am hoping for this long, long road to finish! Voices are all the same. Faces are all the same. It happens that the streets are always the same too. Night and day, there's no great changes happening. Vampires stalks us in every dark corner. Werewolves take glimpses of us, in their day light human shape. They smell the fear. My steps won't be tattooed in any street corner. I won't be the light of som

O que procuro?

Image
Não raras vezes, caminho pelas ruas sem destino. Caminho, caminho, caminho. Sem destino, sem rumo. Que procuro quando, a altas horas da noite, subo e desço as ruas da cidade? Que é que procuro quando entro no parque escuro? E quando caminho por entre carros estacionados? Talvez procure a satisfação momentânea do meu corpo. Talvez procure o meu assassino. Acabar com a vida, às mãos de um estranho. Acabar com a vida de um estranho, com as minhas próprias mãos. Em noites de luar, caminho rua acima, rua abaixo. De vez em quando, bebo um café na bomba de gasolina. Quantas vezes subo e desço as ruas, na esperança de que, quem lá está, vá embora e eu possa ficar sozinho e sossegado na madrugada. Sozinho com o meu café. Sozinho com o meu cigarro. E com os carros que passam. E com os estranhos que chegam e partem. E é, enquanto os meus segredos fazem a minha consciência morder-me, que caminho, horas e horas a fio, sem rumo, sem destino. Não tenho vontade de estar aqui. Não tenho vontade de esta

Old letters and clothes

I have cleaning the mess in my bedroom. I've gone through old clothes. I put some of them aside, so they can be put in the clothing containers. The good ones, the ones that still suit me have been kept. Sweat-shirts, t-shirts, pants, jackets. My closet got way "thiner". It was necessary for a looong time! And it's finally done. Same has happened with old letters. I don't write a single letter for more than three years now. I have no money for the postage. Postage is more and more expensive (and it might get even more expensive, lowering the already low service of CTT [Portuguese mail services], if they go private as planned). I keep some letters, like the ones from my Finnish friend, Soila, Elizabeth, the Greek amazing goddess or Erin, my American girlfriend! There are other letters that are keptm but this is just to mention some obvious. There are people that I'm planning on writing them again. But it might be useless and pointless three years after. I'

Madrugada

Tlvez seja da vida que vai passando loucamente! Talvez seja de noites que se sucedem iguais! Por muito que as coisas mudem acabam tornando-se banais! Não sei se é da vida ou da noite; Talvez seja da mesma cidade, anos e anos a fio, Tenho saudades não sei de quê, frio desengano... Onde moram agora quaisquer sonhos? O Verão já morreu, enquanto morreu um cigarro. Sonho o mar que vi na minha infância, quanta esperança nele depositei... E os sonhos voaram - pássaros alados rompendo a madrugada dos meus sentidos!

Digital Confessions

Digital Confessions  is my newest blog with my good friend, Erin. At this time, I am still awaiting for her to accept the authoring request. I am not writing any longer, as I just wanted to share this new with all of my readers. :)

Um novo blog

Começo hoje um terceiro blog. Quem o diria, quando decidi eliminar o terceiro blog que tinha. Começo um blog com aquela minha amiga americana, que conheci através de cartas. Tenho o sonho ainda de pisar terras americanas. Tenho o sonho de conhecer a Erin realmente, sem ser através de cartas ou de Facebook. Mas hoje começarei a escrever naquele blog que nos pertence. Hoje começarei o nosso "confessionário".

Em casa

Ainda que seja em casa da minha tia, é como se fosse a minha própria casa. A minha tia mandou instalar a Net aqui e isso facilita-me muita coisa, evitando que eu gaste dinheiro em lojas ou no café para poder utilizá-la. Estive a conversar com a minha amiga Inês e fiquei a saber que ela é uma das minhas leitoras e que gosta do blog. Fiquei muito contente com isto. À conversa com ela, falei também de andar a evitar ir ao café de tarde. Por vezes, estou lá por estar. Sinto-me aborrecido em casa. Não tenho nada para fazer. Nada com que me entreter. Chego ao café e, muitas das vezes, não está ninguém conhecido. Enquanto chegam e não chegam, passo horas no Facebook a tentar exorcizar o tédio. Facebook. Twitter. O pouco que o meu fraco, mas adorado telemóvel me permite. Quand está alguém conhecido, pode ser que a conversa flua facilmente. Outras vezes, ouço os demais conversarem, porque não sei o que dizer. Sinto-me perdido e desajustado. Hoje em dia, nem sempre sei o que dizer e as conversas

Tenho Saudades

Tenho saudades de mim. Tenho saudades da minha vida. Tenho saudades de sentir. Tenho saudades de saber o que ando a sentir. Tenho saudades de ter sonhos e planos. Tenho saudades de viver: de viver bem comigo mesmo e com os demais. Tenho saudades de tanta coisa... Tenho saudades sei lá de quê... Quem me dera saber de que tenho saudades. Tenho saudades de sentir saudades e de saber de que sinto saudades.

I was missing this

Image
I was missing to come to this store and sit in front of the computer. Things always feel / look beter when there's a computer, withn a proper screen and a proper keyboard to type. Using a tablet can be so much fun, but never when it comes to type in my blog. I was also missing the dudes around here. It doesn't feels comfortable when it comes to have some of these dudes staring at your computer, but it still feels good and fun when you realise about one dude or another doing some stuffs... erm, like wanking under the desk! It's funny and, forgive me for being so honest, it's pleasant to see it and to notice it. I have been listening to Metal. For a few weeks thatb this has been happening. I believe that this is my natural "state" and that this is my "normal shape". I am wearing black too. Nothing to do with being a metal fan, but it's all about my "normal shape". I have decided to wear colours in my clothes, to be a bit more "no

Three Songs That Would Suit My Novel's Soundtrack

This entry is just another one to share songs. Sharing three songs that, when listened, they make sense and they mean the whole world to me. I am sharing three songs, that make sense for one of my novels, I am sharing three songs that mean the whole world to me and i am sharing three songs that can be the "impulse " I am needing to start typing that story, after having it stopped for a few years (although those years mean nothing, when it's compared to the ones i have stopped for about 7 or 8 years, without even trying to make them shorter stories). Just listen and feel. Enjoy it. Pay atention to the songs and to the musics. It's all important here.

Social networks, hook up and the whole thing

Image
My aunt has requested Internet for her house. She also bought a tablet. I think she feels quite lonely and this is a way of her to grant that I come here. She doesn't needs to do that to have my company. I love my aunt and even when she had television only, I would come here for lunch and to spend a few hours with her. But that is not the point, althou it still "hits" loneliness. In times, I used to have an account on a website for gay men. I have deleted all the old and unused accounts. Now I back there. I have gotten 13 messages since the last time that I have been there. For some people, that might not be much. For me, that is too much. Older men looking for whatever it is. I opened the profiles, shutted them off and deleted the messages. Due to a friend of mine (actually, an ex-penpal of mine), I have created an account on a website of the kind. It is the old website where I used to be before Facebook (me and a whole group of people, friends, acquaintances and a

I just want a bit of quiet and peace

Image
Staying up until late. It is my daily routine. I always find smethng interesting to do. In times, I used to be on a social network for men. I have deleted my account on it, but now I have gotten a new account on another social utility. It is the social utility used before Facebook and I am there out of curiosity. It,s weird, but I can still recognize old "lines" from the website. It is weird though. I am wanting to type this and then... well, I might just lay down and sleep. I have had sme ideas on what to do, but I know that I mgiht fond an excuse to stay awake another night long. I feel sleepy and tired, but still I am in the mood for more discoveries. I am wanting to la down, but at the same time, I am wanting to keep here, seing other people and other stuffs. Days ago, I have opened Facebook and I have decided to go through my friends and put them in the various lists. My family is in restricted and family lists. I want to avoid over-sharing with them. They haven'

O meu estranho ser

Image
Espero. Vou esperando, onde apenas existe espaço para desesperar. Vejo os dias a passar, numa altura em que cada minuto é precioso. Fujo ao meu dever por preguiça. Por causa da vadiagem. Estranho ser que sou. Sinto-me triste com o rumo das coisas e nada faço para o alterar. Sinto-me triste e envergonhado, mas mesmo assim... Toda a gente luta por algo. Eu não luto por nada. Desmotivado? Sem dúvida. Preguiçoso? Vergonhosamente, a 100%. Mas porque escrevo somente, em vez de lutar? Nem vale a pena continuar. Fui procurar Amália na net. Saquei algumas músicas que não tinha. Ouço-a agora a cantar o "Marujo Português". Encanta-me. Tinha saudades. Passei por um tempo sem escutá-la, nem senti-la. Passou para "Não Digas Mal Dele". Amália com a sua sabedoria. Saquei esta música já a tendo. Acreditava ser uma versão diferente. Mas é bom. Amália fala da sua vida, nos fados que canta, sejam Suas as palavras ou de algum dos seus poemas. E eu encontro nas palavras que Amália canta,

Random thoughts, Full Moon, anger

Image
Let me type about something random. I could type about my night. On how I did got so annoyed, so mad, that I am still a bit pissed off. Too damned bothered, to be able to relax. I am listening to music, to try to calm down. It is not working, although my mind seems to start flowing more softly. It is entering in the "zone" of soft sadness, after a grand attack of bad mood. Me at my best! It is all cool. It'll be chilling soon. I hope. Random thoughts. What can I type about? The Full Moon that I haven't looked at, due to the Earthly problems? About vampires, werewolves, witches dancing in a forest? About how life and the night are calling for me, and here I am, inside my dungeon, on the 5th floor of a building of apartments. Here I am, trapped by my boring, soul killing daily / nightly routine, without a single move to improve / change it.  I could type about something more. Maybe about the forever plans for tomorrows, that turn into another tomorrows. It wo

Lua Cheia

Image
Estou irritado por vários motivos (e antes que algumas pessoas digam que eu ando sempre irritado, deixem que vos diga que estava muito bem quando comecei a noite)! São vários os acontecimentos desta noite, e não só!, que contribuíram para o meu estado de espírito. Não vale a pena mencioná-los. Estou por casa, finalmente. Sei que quero escrever alguma coisa, mas sinto-me completamente incapaz neste exacto momento. Ou melhor escrevendo, sinto-me capaz de escrever, embora incapaz de reproduzir o que quero realmente dizer. Tenho visto publicações sobre a Lua Cheia. Falam da inspiração que a lua oferece. Tão chateado com os problemas da Terra, nem olhei para a Lua, senão de relance. E, a escrever ests linhas, eis que me recordo: a Lua Cheia enlouquece as pessoas. Talvez que, com o seu aproximar, todos estes eventos fossem apenas um prenúncio da noite de hoje. Ou de algo maior que possa estar para acontecer. Espero que a noite de hoje tenha sido o tal grande acontecimento. A Lua Cheia enlouq

Como te amo, luxúria!

Image
Em busca de música. Alimento para a alma. E dou comigo a procurar música árabe. Viajo pelo espaço e pelo tempo, sem sair do mesmo sítio. Quão deliciosas me parecem as minhas fantasias e quão acolhedor me parece o inferno do deserto, quando comparado com este sítio. Recordo agora aquele amigo egípcio com o qual falava pela net. Recordo aquele amigo e todas as delícias de fantasias que me oferecia a sua imagem. Uma das minhas melhores amigas é a luxúria: desde que a descobri, nunca mais me abandonou. Abandonei-a por uns tempos, mas em sonhos, ela encontrou-me e falou-me. Em sonhos, envolveu-me de outros sonhos ainda maiores. Em sonhos, vi o meu mundo crescer. Campo, mar, deserto. Cidades, pessoas, palavras e momentos. Como te amo, luxúria!

Arab music

Image
Late in the night. I have just arrived, after spending a few hours in the gas station with a few friends. While I have been there, someone has spoken about the arab language. It is the kind of language that the person considered cool and very beautiful, but some kind of language that doesn't allows him to understand it. One of the many kinds of music that I truly enjoy is the arab style. Of course that like all the styles, I am not into all the musics. I don't know much of arab music, but there are a few musics that really pleases me. There are many musics that drive me so crazy, that I start moving my hips and I start making my belly moving, under the clothes. As I have downloaded loads of music, the same has happened with this kind of it. There are quite a few to be deletes for a dew countable reasons: the music is too short, what means the song is not complete; the music doesn't pleases me as it should and it could be continued. But I still want to go through the dow

Melancolia

Image
De vez em quando, estou eu tão bem e, de repente, fico assim! Estranhamente, uma melancolia bateu forte. E agora, não me importava de estar em frente ao mar, como estava em dias destes, em Carcavelos, enquanto esperava pela consulta de "psicoterapia" . E tanta paneleirice, por causa de uma espécie de psicólogo. Tinha consulta de tarde e passava manhãs inteiras a caminhar na praia, ouvindo música. Saber-me-ia muito bem uma ida à praia, numa destas noites. O vento é bom e aconselha-se. Ajuda a lembrar-me de que estou ali e de que estou vivo. Teria que ter uns minutos para mim e para a minha música. Algumas lágrimas talvez caíssem, pelo que tentaria ter uma certa distância das pessoas. Ia começar com as questões outra vez. Não vale a pena, pelo que apaguei as linhas escritas. Não serve de nada questionar-me. Nem de interrogar-me com grandes palavras. Enquanto não tomar as rédeas, posso estar bem quietinho e bem caladinho. Porque só estarei a reforçar a minha imagem de idiota.

Exorcizando a Solidão

Image
Aqui estou. Seis da manhã e eu a ouvir um velho Heavy Metal, com traços de romantismo decadente, em que se ama o mau e em que se perdoa o muito pior. Assumimos o nosso lado negro. E o demónio dentro de nós, continua a governar o Inferno de loucura que é o nosso ser, a nossa alma. Devia estar a dormir. Que se lixe o sono. Daqui a pouco já me deito. Se não dormir durante uns dias, sucumbirei ao cansaço. Deveria estar a dormir. Mas estou de volta de um velho Heavy Metal de muita qualidade. Estou de volta dos meus pensamentos. Estou de volta das minhas emoções e dos meus devaneios. Penso. Aquele pensamento das altas horas solitárias em que nos propomos a exorcizar essa solidão auto-infligida. Exorcizamos os nossos pensamentos com qualquer coisa. Eu exorcizo estas horas assim, a escrever aqui, fumando uns cigarros e ouvindo, neste preciso momento, Doro Pesch a cantar "Heaven I See". Sei que a culpa de estar aqui, neste momento, em vez de nos braços de alguém, a ter o meu demónio i