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Showing posts from December, 2013

making decisions / making changes

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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

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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

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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

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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!)

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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

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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

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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

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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!

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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...

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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