Angel Alucard

I am trying a new blogging platform. It is a Portuguese platform, so I have decided to try it there again. Call me mad, I might be. Or I really am. It rains hard outside. It rains deep inside of me. I am looking for answers. Answers without even knowing what are the questions. I long for something that I have no idea what it is. The older I get, more questions I have, without properly knowing what questions are those. I fly. I fly deep within my soul. I fly to distant lands of fairytales, of wars and conquers. I fly and I rise high in the sky, like an enormous dragon above a castle. I want to write, but the words won't come out. I feel the urge to write, but I have no idea of what to write. I start and wish for the very best, but that very best isn't enough, that very best isn't good enough. And those lands of fantasy seem farther than ever before.

A bit before the dinner, I was about typing one entry. One entry about this and that... the kind of chitchat you make with people who don't know from nowhere, but that start speaking to you in the train or in the bus stations, in the cafe or in the supermarkets. Christmas and the whole set of celebrations with the New Year are finally over. These days have been annoying me pretty much. I have been smoking quite a lot, because of the lack of mental peace. My mind never stops working, nit even when I am almost fainting after I have smoked a few joints. When I am too highed to even understand what people are saying to me, even then I am always thinking. Since I was a very young child that I have always had this "tendence"  of over-thinking. I remember of being a 3 or 4 years old child, walking the yard of the kindergarten where I was and thinking. When it was raining and we was inside, I was in my corner drawing, although I have always had the guts of interactong with ot...

  Here's something quite awesome! Here's something to bring tears to my eyes! Vinícius de Moraes singing at Amália Rodrigues' house! One poem that he has writen for her to sing! The poet gives a quite gloomy sound to the song! But the poet knows what he's doing! The poet knows the dance of the voice; the poet knows who he's singing to!   Amália, in her living room, listens to him and absorbs the feeling! Amália Rodrigues, in all her entire magnificence, absorbs what she got to feel, the way she has to sing the song!   Amália says: now I am going to try!   Jusat imagine it like at 3 a.m., smoke of cigarettes in the air, lots of people around the sofas. Papers everywhere, with poems, with sketches of poems, ways to turn them into a song! Just imagine how would you feel inside that room!   Ditature! State police! No freedom to speak out loud whatever you wanted to (and we're losing this nowadays)!     I feel just this amaze...

It hits me quite often. Especially since we got into Autumn/Fall (depends on how you call this season). Sadness covers my face, clouds my eyes and thoughts. And you... Always you! I have seen your car yesterday. I have seen T.'s car yesterday. MAybe you were both at P.'s house, something that i have thought across the night, as the sleep was not coming over. I wish I could care less about when I see anything related to you, but it seems to be an impossible task. I can not care less or even to be careless about you, your presence, your existance. I love you and I will always love. Whatever has happened between the two of us (or what hasn't even happened!) doesn't really matters, since I am sure and aware of this love, kinda obsession! Sadness... It makes me see the most beautiful images, between the destruction! Feeling... Truly feeling... Allowing me to see in this Autumn/Fall scenery, beautiful images, making me create beautiful paintings in my mind. Allowing me to...

Things haven't changed the way I wanted them to change... but like I have typed in the title, they haven't changed yet!! I have been delivering some curriculum (resumes, like i've been warned, by an american boy) and I haven't putted my arms down and gave up... but once again, that's yet!! I find myself reading old letters, especially the ones of my beloved  Elizabeth V. , I keep seing the magazines, pages of magazines, words she wrote to me and I keep imagining this wonderful woman in the kiosk, daydreaming of fairies, dragons, of feminine boys. I also imagine her fantasizing on those feminine boys' butts and in many ways to spank and abbuse of them!! I feel tempted to write her, but... there's always a but in any story, but things haven't changed yet!! I am owing lots of letters, I am penniless, due to almost three years of unemployment and things are shit... people are shit!! SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!! First letter I'll have to write (no, not re-wr...

div> I had a rose of fire Burning in my heart Fate won it gambling In days which already left Red rose of hope, Oh this colourless hours Why do you come, memory, As a sin of love? I'm tired of my tired steps, I haven't gave of getting tired I carry heavy on my arms The rest of dreams to the sea I had a rose of fire burning in my heart Fate won it gambling In days the already gone!! This is the translation of the poem of the fado that's playing!! I hope you like it as much as me. I wish you're able to understand why did I feel so much my soul... That might be the sadest way to explain the huge passion the kills my soul... The passion, the hunger of living, but the obsession of Death!! It hurts me a lot! And I couldn't be really happy, if it was any different!!