Today it will be the words of some other the ones I shall be sharing. I found them beautiful enough for me to want to share it...
Me basta así
Si yo fuese Dios
y tuviese el secreto,
haría un ser exacto a ti;
lo probaría
(a la manera de los panaderos
cuando prueban el pan, es decir:
con la boca),
y si ese sabor fuese
igual al tuyo, o sea
tu mismo olor, y tu manera
de sonreír,
y de guardar silencio,
y de estrechar mi mano estrictamente,
y de besarnos sin hacernos daño
—de esto sí estoy seguro: pongo
tanta atención cuando te beso—;
entonces,
si yo fuese Dios,
podría repetirte y repetirte,
siempre la misma y siempre diferente,
sin cansarme jamás del juego idéntico,
sin desdeñar tampoco la que fuiste
por la que ibas a ser dentro de nada;
ya no sé si me explico, pero quiero
aclarar que si yo fuese
Dios, haría
lo posible por ser Ángel González
para quererte tal como te quiero,
para aguardar con calma
a que te crees tú misma cada día
a que sorprendas todas las mañanas
la luz recién nacida con tu propia
luz, y corras
la cortina impalpable que separa
el sueño de la vida,
resucitándome con tu palabra,
Lázaro alegre,
yo,
mojado todavía
de sombras y pereza,
sorprendido y absorto
en la contemplación de todo aquello
que, en unión de mí mismo,
recuperas y salvas, mueves, dejas
abandonado cuando —luego— callas...
(Escucho tu silencio.
Oigo
constelaciones: existes.
Creo en ti.
Eres.
Me basta).
Ángel González (1925-2008)
martes, 12 de diciembre de 2017
martes, 5 de diciembre de 2017
Synchronicity, maybe...
As time goes on, writing sort of becomes more difficult, but not because I loose skills or my texts are shitty, which might well be as well... no, the fact is as time goes on and I get to know more of myself through the things I experience, the things I live and the new memories that are being made every day, I see a tendency to draw back, to ponder longer, to doubt what it is I truly wish to share with this over-connected world... and whether this world (and by extension people who I'm either loosely or closely related to) truly deserves having more power over me... Either way, about a month since the last time I produced some form of written message to be published...
This said, I just wish to share some thought on synchronicity... the older generations might know this name from an album by The Police (pretty cool must say, and it's the one which has the song "Every Breath You Take", with one of the simplest chord progressions and yet most astonishing result)...
Back to the topic... Someone pretty close to me rather recently (take or give a month or two) talked to me about synchronicities, what they are, how they do happen... and of course, at first I was sort of taken aback at the prospect... but then some started sieving through the fabric of the reality that envelops me... and man! I gotta say it's beautiful the way the universe communicates with us, although it can make one even more fearful of the unknown and the extent one is not in control of anything at all... but there is such beauty in it, especially if you take time in recognizing it... synchronicities at their best...
However, this does not mean the universe only brings good things around. No sir! It also brings shitstorms and plaguelike states, because it is sort of a nasty 15-year-old teenager with a temper... on the good side, these storms are there only to help us move forward to greatness... and before greatness, there is always pain... but what a shitty world it would be if we never suffered any pain or loss... we wouldn't learn, we wouldn't appreciate times, people and things that remind us that we are happy and we are to share this happiness with others, even if it's not well received...
I drift in and out, I know... maybe the best I can say is that staring fear at the face I have come to know its name, and learning about how the universe works, does not make me any less fearful... but it helps me learn and cope with the deepest fear mankind has, the one we will most definitely accompany us until our trip to the lands beyond...
Two synchronicities for you...
Sinéad O'Connor & The Chieftains "The Foggy Dew"
This said, I just wish to share some thought on synchronicity... the older generations might know this name from an album by The Police (pretty cool must say, and it's the one which has the song "Every Breath You Take", with one of the simplest chord progressions and yet most astonishing result)...
Back to the topic... Someone pretty close to me rather recently (take or give a month or two) talked to me about synchronicities, what they are, how they do happen... and of course, at first I was sort of taken aback at the prospect... but then some started sieving through the fabric of the reality that envelops me... and man! I gotta say it's beautiful the way the universe communicates with us, although it can make one even more fearful of the unknown and the extent one is not in control of anything at all... but there is such beauty in it, especially if you take time in recognizing it... synchronicities at their best...
However, this does not mean the universe only brings good things around. No sir! It also brings shitstorms and plaguelike states, because it is sort of a nasty 15-year-old teenager with a temper... on the good side, these storms are there only to help us move forward to greatness... and before greatness, there is always pain... but what a shitty world it would be if we never suffered any pain or loss... we wouldn't learn, we wouldn't appreciate times, people and things that remind us that we are happy and we are to share this happiness with others, even if it's not well received...
I drift in and out, I know... maybe the best I can say is that staring fear at the face I have come to know its name, and learning about how the universe works, does not make me any less fearful... but it helps me learn and cope with the deepest fear mankind has, the one we will most definitely accompany us until our trip to the lands beyond...
Two synchronicities for you...
Sinéad O'Connor & The Chieftains "The Foggy Dew"
"(...)
No day copies yesterday,
no two nights will teach what bliss is
in precisely the same way,
with precisely the same kisses.
(...)
Why do we treat the fleeting day
with so much needless fear and sorrow?
It’s in its nature not to stay:
Today is always gone tomorrow
(...)"
W.Szymborska Nothing Twice
miércoles, 1 de noviembre de 2017
Demons, anyone?
Yup, today I feel like talking about demons. Yeah, I know, it's been Halloween and there's been a lot of goofy people running around in their goofy costumes "celebrating" Halloween in a futile intent to get laid later in the evening... P.S.: I never really like that idea much... I'm weird, I know... ain't that cool?
But no, my topic today ain't Halloween-related, although I very much enjoy horror movies with demons and bat-shit crazy stuff like that.
For a few days, not in a row, I've been having dreams about demons. Now, I won't be giving you details of the types of demons and situations I've been seeing them, that's only for me to know, you bastards!
Aaaaanyway, the fact that I find noteworthy is that my dreams about demons, and how I do fight and fend them off or get overrun by them never did have much to do with my present situation (present whenever that present was). But I find it funny that these things I dream about, and which do not scare me in the least (either poor trapped souls or concentrated negative energy that at some point will dissipate), whenever I look up dream symbolism they seem to be a sort of forewarning. And up to this day the only forewarnings I've really felt useful were bugs: I cannot recollect a single instance in my life in which dream demons warned about anything... However, some dream interpretations also give an interesting point of view: a sort of acknowledgement or awareness of one's past and how one is moving past it. Now this part seems nice, though I cannot really tell (not even to myself) what the hell this is supposed to mean given the many changes that have happened in my own personal head-quarters that such awareness was more than clear to me... who knows...
And talking about dreams, I remember having a lot of dreams about dry vineyards and zombies... I should check into that...
Completely unrelated: I love artistic pictures of the human body, not just bare nudes, but shade and color play related to positioon... and I just saw a collection of pre, during and post birth pictures, that is of women, with or without companion, giving birth and there is something mystical about it I can't really put my finger on... but hey, don't start getting ideas, I'm won't be joyning that club for the time being... maybe even never, who knows, life is, quoting the great Forrest Gump "like a box o' chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get".
Signing off...
Random musical note of the day
Garbage's I'm only happy when it rains
Whispering: I Love the nineties...
martes, 10 de octubre de 2017
Some and counting...
It's been a while, I know,but I've been meaning to write for several days and somehow the time wasn't right, neither were the circumstances...
Where should I start... I have no goddamed idea, to be honest...
Maybe I'll get back a few days and see again some beautiful times out of impulsiveness, where mountain and tree and dried out heather reigned, with molten chocolate smiles, and candid embraces in the night followed by nightmarish boxes falling...
And most recently, a grand gift was made and given to me, but such was its grandeur I could not hold it within my chest. I know what I heard and saw and felt, and it was beyond my expectations, beyond any thought, it just surpassed my outer barriers, my defenses, and left me like a torn out rag on a muddy street in late winter. Such was its power... but I know what it meant, I heard what it cried, I licked what it had to offer, and I tasted that serene bitterness, that pungent sweet and sharp melody...
Still it haunts me...
And so the days passed and I found myself in yet a position ever stranger to me... I remembered
Ensiferum's "The Wanderer", and the tune crept back into my head, brushing against my dried out memories, seeking out a new pole on which to stand, and so it did... And I found myself pondering about solitude, but not in a negative sense, just thinking about it, nothing fancy, just feeling I wanted almost no soul around me at that particular time and place, though part of me was elsewhere and I had to surrender to the evidence. I travel the night seeking such a place and found it beyond the witching hour when I found my solace listening to music. And then cam Jeff Buckley with his sound... and I broke down... his music, ever haunting, was so powerful his sound could pass through armored concrete as if it were butter under the summer sun... and it pierced me through...
Then a day passed and a new musical project began, the fingers remembered their old strengths and weaknesses, I began to feel letting go, I began to feel the roar... once, so far...
And today has been a day of bitter and sweet tastes, with lights and shades, many more than anticipated...
Good old karma came a-knockin'... but then came back for some revenge. My brain was depleted from too much working... Calls and thoughts, and thoughts and silence... again a stranger in my eyes, or is it to my eyes? so late I dare not to care, not today... Sometimes silence is loudest...
But I also had a nice chat with a friend, about relationships, and things we dislike, and that which we find beautiful in one, and how haste kills them all... but fortune willed it that I find yet another thing that I add to my understanding-pending list... maybe it means nothing, but I know nothing means a lot, except I do not know what... not yet anyway... I just hope for a night with no nightmares, for solace in my own fantasies, for memory and fantasy are mine and mine alone... even it my whole world crumbles down...
'Tis so precious this gift, 'tis so strong and frail, but it is... and I'd not change it for another 1000 years of life... I just wish you are ok, you are missed...
I fade out...
Where should I start... I have no goddamed idea, to be honest...
Maybe I'll get back a few days and see again some beautiful times out of impulsiveness, where mountain and tree and dried out heather reigned, with molten chocolate smiles, and candid embraces in the night followed by nightmarish boxes falling...
And most recently, a grand gift was made and given to me, but such was its grandeur I could not hold it within my chest. I know what I heard and saw and felt, and it was beyond my expectations, beyond any thought, it just surpassed my outer barriers, my defenses, and left me like a torn out rag on a muddy street in late winter. Such was its power... but I know what it meant, I heard what it cried, I licked what it had to offer, and I tasted that serene bitterness, that pungent sweet and sharp melody...
Still it haunts me...
And so the days passed and I found myself in yet a position ever stranger to me... I remembered
Ensiferum's "The Wanderer", and the tune crept back into my head, brushing against my dried out memories, seeking out a new pole on which to stand, and so it did... And I found myself pondering about solitude, but not in a negative sense, just thinking about it, nothing fancy, just feeling I wanted almost no soul around me at that particular time and place, though part of me was elsewhere and I had to surrender to the evidence. I travel the night seeking such a place and found it beyond the witching hour when I found my solace listening to music. And then cam Jeff Buckley with his sound... and I broke down... his music, ever haunting, was so powerful his sound could pass through armored concrete as if it were butter under the summer sun... and it pierced me through...
Then a day passed and a new musical project began, the fingers remembered their old strengths and weaknesses, I began to feel letting go, I began to feel the roar... once, so far...
And today has been a day of bitter and sweet tastes, with lights and shades, many more than anticipated...
Good old karma came a-knockin'... but then came back for some revenge. My brain was depleted from too much working... Calls and thoughts, and thoughts and silence... again a stranger in my eyes, or is it to my eyes? so late I dare not to care, not today... Sometimes silence is loudest...
But I also had a nice chat with a friend, about relationships, and things we dislike, and that which we find beautiful in one, and how haste kills them all... but fortune willed it that I find yet another thing that I add to my understanding-pending list... maybe it means nothing, but I know nothing means a lot, except I do not know what... not yet anyway... I just hope for a night with no nightmares, for solace in my own fantasies, for memory and fantasy are mine and mine alone... even it my whole world crumbles down...
'Tis so precious this gift, 'tis so strong and frail, but it is... and I'd not change it for another 1000 years of life... I just wish you are ok, you are missed...
I fade out...
lunes, 25 de septiembre de 2017
Nachdennklich
Nachdennklich. Druck. Feuer. Druck. Zweifel. Vermutung. Stille. Los.
So much to say, yet so little that I wish to share for the world does not deserve much of what I could ever saying.
But waking up it's a difficult job, realizing the peace of sleep is gone and now, as the sun shines, my brain is back again to give me a hard time. I wish myself a brain stopper yet I know they do not work.
One hour rolling on top of an unwanted mattress, trying to remain in an uncomfortable sleep trying to prevent that moment from coming... but the day marches on against my will.
Trying to understand yet trying not to, a paradoxical fight between of two halves of a single brain, wondering why the need for work, for time without using the brain. Maybe I should start getting loads of things to do, it seems to be my kick.
No paths are trod twice, the plants grow ever different.
At least yesterday's sweat was genuine, as true as my voice was...
Maybe this is my escape valve...
Feuer. Druck.
(Random songs that sound in the night)
Vreid - Empty
"A writer out of loneliness is trying to communicate like a distant star sending signals. He isn't telling, or teaching, or ordering. Rather, he seeks to establish a relationship with meaning, of feeling, of observing. We are lonesome animals. We spend all our live trying to be less lonesome. And one of our ancient methods is to tell a story, begging the listener to say, and to feel, "Yes, that's the way it is, or at least that's the way I feel it. You're not as alone as you thought." To finish is sadness to a writer, a little death. He puts the last word down and it is done. But it isn't really done. The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done."
John Steinbeck
So much to say, yet so little that I wish to share for the world does not deserve much of what I could ever saying.
But waking up it's a difficult job, realizing the peace of sleep is gone and now, as the sun shines, my brain is back again to give me a hard time. I wish myself a brain stopper yet I know they do not work.
One hour rolling on top of an unwanted mattress, trying to remain in an uncomfortable sleep trying to prevent that moment from coming... but the day marches on against my will.
Trying to understand yet trying not to, a paradoxical fight between of two halves of a single brain, wondering why the need for work, for time without using the brain. Maybe I should start getting loads of things to do, it seems to be my kick.
No paths are trod twice, the plants grow ever different.
At least yesterday's sweat was genuine, as true as my voice was...
Maybe this is my escape valve...
Feuer. Druck.
(Random songs that sound in the night)
Vreid - Empty
"A writer out of loneliness is trying to communicate like a distant star sending signals. He isn't telling, or teaching, or ordering. Rather, he seeks to establish a relationship with meaning, of feeling, of observing. We are lonesome animals. We spend all our live trying to be less lonesome. And one of our ancient methods is to tell a story, begging the listener to say, and to feel, "Yes, that's the way it is, or at least that's the way I feel it. You're not as alone as you thought." To finish is sadness to a writer, a little death. He puts the last word down and it is done. But it isn't really done. The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done."
John Steinbeck
sábado, 9 de septiembre de 2017
Oxymoron, not ox moron
Yet again before an empty digital canvas, but not to pour my heart out, just to share some random thoughts.
The first time I heard the word oxymoron, why by the way I find is a beautiful word and has a beautiful effect on language, was in a movie starring an almost unknown wannabe rapper called Mark Wahlberg. There I heard the word oxymoron, and an example: Thunderous silence. Such a beautiful composition, sometimes so appealing to myself, more often than not.
Anyway, the topic today is PhD. Yes, I'm currently doing my PhD research, but the path neither is nor has it been easy so far. I always thought PhD students had a tendency to exaggerate difficulties they were having... and then I found that exaggeration is actually not a good description of the roaring thunderstorm you experience, with ups and downs as if in a brake-less roller coaster car about to skip the tracks and fly off into its doom. I had not been very motivated at some points in time, and in a way I'm still getting my act together... But good thing is that I have found a partner in crime who is a great inspiration regarding this line of work, and this is both rare and nice to find, especially for a lone wolf such as myself when it comes to academic stuff, of which I'm highly critical.
Inspiration is always found in the least likely places, with the least likely company. And it is good.
Rain today, and then tonight rain comes again, and under cover of darkness and with few comrades we shall wave the night of and the beginning of a new chapter in life.
I had heard many times the expression "Karma is a bitch", but over time, I'm changing my standing point and maybe karma is not a bitch after all but a fluffy nice female ever-playful puppy filled with hope and good thoughts. Too positive today methinks. Anyway, karma just is, we interpret from it what we wish to interpret, and I take the good side, for there is enough of the bad side in the world to be sticking to that one.
Good thing melancholy fits don't last long, especially when ears and counsel are offered in order to climb out of the pit...
Now, I wanted to say much more, but I don't think I will...
As I was having my zig break, I saw flashes of light covering the sky, a storm is coming. And I was amazed by the colors and shapes lightning created in the sky, showing the beautiful clouds lit from behind, as in one of John Howe's illustrations of Morgoth and the days of Gondolin.
Ah, who could be a worthy Beren to fair Luthien...
Good night my beloved travelers in the dark, may your paths shine every once in a while.
Tonight's feature: "Turning Circles" by Judas Priest
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWPcpguSlkE
The first time I heard the word oxymoron, why by the way I find is a beautiful word and has a beautiful effect on language, was in a movie starring an almost unknown wannabe rapper called Mark Wahlberg. There I heard the word oxymoron, and an example: Thunderous silence. Such a beautiful composition, sometimes so appealing to myself, more often than not.
Anyway, the topic today is PhD. Yes, I'm currently doing my PhD research, but the path neither is nor has it been easy so far. I always thought PhD students had a tendency to exaggerate difficulties they were having... and then I found that exaggeration is actually not a good description of the roaring thunderstorm you experience, with ups and downs as if in a brake-less roller coaster car about to skip the tracks and fly off into its doom. I had not been very motivated at some points in time, and in a way I'm still getting my act together... But good thing is that I have found a partner in crime who is a great inspiration regarding this line of work, and this is both rare and nice to find, especially for a lone wolf such as myself when it comes to academic stuff, of which I'm highly critical.
Inspiration is always found in the least likely places, with the least likely company. And it is good.
Rain today, and then tonight rain comes again, and under cover of darkness and with few comrades we shall wave the night of and the beginning of a new chapter in life.
I had heard many times the expression "Karma is a bitch", but over time, I'm changing my standing point and maybe karma is not a bitch after all but a fluffy nice female ever-playful puppy filled with hope and good thoughts. Too positive today methinks. Anyway, karma just is, we interpret from it what we wish to interpret, and I take the good side, for there is enough of the bad side in the world to be sticking to that one.
Good thing melancholy fits don't last long, especially when ears and counsel are offered in order to climb out of the pit...
Now, I wanted to say much more, but I don't think I will...
As I was having my zig break, I saw flashes of light covering the sky, a storm is coming. And I was amazed by the colors and shapes lightning created in the sky, showing the beautiful clouds lit from behind, as in one of John Howe's illustrations of Morgoth and the days of Gondolin.
Ah, who could be a worthy Beren to fair Luthien...
Good night my beloved travelers in the dark, may your paths shine every once in a while.
Tonight's feature: "Turning Circles" by Judas Priest
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWPcpguSlkE
jueves, 7 de septiembre de 2017
Fucking trips down memory lane
As I was saying, fucking trips down memory lane.
You've heard (read me) rant about my past, and me liking to analyze that past and thinking about it and trying to make the best out of past deeds and mistakes and successes. However one thing is pulling out blurry images from a dusty hard drive called brain and a different one is finding something completely unexpected fucking cross your path while listening to something completely unrelated, and the your fucking brain makes the goddammed connection, and it so happens it's raining at the same time, and I do love rain, and what it brings.
Fucking 2 minute bubble bursts.
And it all began because I was watching 12 year old webcam videos of myself, made for myself as well, either singing or playing the bass or guitar.
And then I saw "younger videos"... still playing, different appearance though.
Naivity dead, hope forlorn, and I didn't remember that much pain.
But if there is something I can really do good is read myself... I was in fucking agony and I didn't even know... 2-minute bubble-burst, and it came back for an instant, how the hell did I manage to move forward??
"I stay still and changes pass me by(...) I'm the bitter in your sweet"
... I did come out with that...
There is still so much I do NOT understand of either this world or myself...
I guess fear is sometimes necessary in order for us to be reminded of our own vulnerabilities and that of those people we encounter, meet, relate to and have relationships with...
I guess I'm tender... so here's a steak
You've heard (read me) rant about my past, and me liking to analyze that past and thinking about it and trying to make the best out of past deeds and mistakes and successes. However one thing is pulling out blurry images from a dusty hard drive called brain and a different one is finding something completely unexpected fucking cross your path while listening to something completely unrelated, and the your fucking brain makes the goddammed connection, and it so happens it's raining at the same time, and I do love rain, and what it brings.
Fucking 2 minute bubble bursts.
And it all began because I was watching 12 year old webcam videos of myself, made for myself as well, either singing or playing the bass or guitar.
And then I saw "younger videos"... still playing, different appearance though.
Naivity dead, hope forlorn, and I didn't remember that much pain.
But if there is something I can really do good is read myself... I was in fucking agony and I didn't even know... 2-minute bubble-burst, and it came back for an instant, how the hell did I manage to move forward??
"I stay still and changes pass me by(...) I'm the bitter in your sweet"
... I did come out with that...
There is still so much I do NOT understand of either this world or myself...
I guess fear is sometimes necessary in order for us to be reminded of our own vulnerabilities and that of those people we encounter, meet, relate to and have relationships with...
I guess I'm tender... so here's a steak
sábado, 2 de septiembre de 2017
Dream on, but keep on rememberin'
Ah my sweeties, again with my beloved ritual, booze and smokes so I connect to my inner deranged me. And Oh Boi! Was I in for a surprise today.
The thing is, I was giving a thorough thought to the idea of writing about dreams, as it is something I had been speaking about lately, and I even had some to tell and some ideas of my own regarding dreams and the like (yup, illusions and mirages count)... however I found myself browsing through the folders of my computer and... no, you naughty bastards, I did not fins that forgotten, well-hidden folder full of porn... actually what I found was way better... to some extent at least: I found old files that had been in my computers since as early as 1998, most of them dating from 2000 onwards... yes, almost 20-year-old files. That was a shocker... and all the way Def Leppard was the soundtrack...
Well, I won't go into much detail because the internet does not need it, but I found out that I used to save the e-mails I sent into Word files so they wouldn't be erased from the "sent" folder of my older e-mail addresses (I don't seem to be able to recall any e-mail addresses I had prior to 2005, although I had had, at least something around 4 different ones).
The thing is, I have re-read those e-mails... geez I was one needy kid sometimes , but some things I wrote did shock me... one of them was back in 2004 talking to an older German acquaintance of mine with whom I lost all contact and links as time went by, the person I first started talking in German with on a daily basis... to keep the story simple, I was trying to figure out or guess what my life would be like in 2014, that is 10 years from 2004. I actually got nothing right, not even close... not even where I'd be living... but I found out that I already knew that if I had a child, what I'd like his name to be... and I thought this was a rather recent idea, it turns out it's been there for years stored in a one-way alley in my hard-drive of a brain. Maybe the core never changes much and only the crust is what we modify over time...
Beyond this particular point of interest, other texts were found, all written by me... At some point I even thought "hey, this guy can write", and then I went like "oh, wait, this guy is/was me, holy shit". It's been nice.
Finally the winds of time, finally a slight change in the weather comes, and in my briefs I feel a chill, goosebumps up my skin. I'm glad winter is coming, slowly, but undeterred. So looking forward to being a human heater, so looking forward to the cold days.
A few moments ago I was thinking to myself "My 34th year in this planet has been rather interesting, especially the last month, I'm positive about my 35th" and I've just watched the clock and today I take a step further in my ageing while enjoying a glass of the wine I last drank while skinny dipping in a rocky beach about 100 or 150 miles from here.
I'd say so much more, but I've decided this will suffice for today. The older I get the clearer I see that although bits and pieces of my life and thoughts may be left here for posterity, I want to keep most to myself and to/with the people I live and experience things with, beside my own solitary endeavors.
Because the night is dark and full of promises...
Def Leppard's "Women"
"He was born with a passion, love and hate
A restless spirit with a need for a mate
But there was somethin' that was missin', somethin' lost
So he came with the answer, here's what it cost"
The thing is, I was giving a thorough thought to the idea of writing about dreams, as it is something I had been speaking about lately, and I even had some to tell and some ideas of my own regarding dreams and the like (yup, illusions and mirages count)... however I found myself browsing through the folders of my computer and... no, you naughty bastards, I did not fins that forgotten, well-hidden folder full of porn... actually what I found was way better... to some extent at least: I found old files that had been in my computers since as early as 1998, most of them dating from 2000 onwards... yes, almost 20-year-old files. That was a shocker... and all the way Def Leppard was the soundtrack...
Well, I won't go into much detail because the internet does not need it, but I found out that I used to save the e-mails I sent into Word files so they wouldn't be erased from the "sent" folder of my older e-mail addresses (I don't seem to be able to recall any e-mail addresses I had prior to 2005, although I had had, at least something around 4 different ones).
The thing is, I have re-read those e-mails... geez I was one needy kid sometimes , but some things I wrote did shock me... one of them was back in 2004 talking to an older German acquaintance of mine with whom I lost all contact and links as time went by, the person I first started talking in German with on a daily basis... to keep the story simple, I was trying to figure out or guess what my life would be like in 2014, that is 10 years from 2004. I actually got nothing right, not even close... not even where I'd be living... but I found out that I already knew that if I had a child, what I'd like his name to be... and I thought this was a rather recent idea, it turns out it's been there for years stored in a one-way alley in my hard-drive of a brain. Maybe the core never changes much and only the crust is what we modify over time...
Beyond this particular point of interest, other texts were found, all written by me... At some point I even thought "hey, this guy can write", and then I went like "oh, wait, this guy is/was me, holy shit". It's been nice.
Finally the winds of time, finally a slight change in the weather comes, and in my briefs I feel a chill, goosebumps up my skin. I'm glad winter is coming, slowly, but undeterred. So looking forward to being a human heater, so looking forward to the cold days.
A few moments ago I was thinking to myself "My 34th year in this planet has been rather interesting, especially the last month, I'm positive about my 35th" and I've just watched the clock and today I take a step further in my ageing while enjoying a glass of the wine I last drank while skinny dipping in a rocky beach about 100 or 150 miles from here.
I'd say so much more, but I've decided this will suffice for today. The older I get the clearer I see that although bits and pieces of my life and thoughts may be left here for posterity, I want to keep most to myself and to/with the people I live and experience things with, beside my own solitary endeavors.
Because the night is dark and full of promises...
Def Leppard's "Women"
"He was born with a passion, love and hate
A restless spirit with a need for a mate
But there was somethin' that was missin', somethin' lost
So he came with the answer, here's what it cost"
domingo, 27 de agosto de 2017
Kintsukuroi - In the land of dreams
My beloved readers, again I stand here before you who are - maybe- eager to hear from me.
It's been a while and much has happened, mostly unexpected.
I left for France with a happy heart and little sleep, a sweet sacrifice in the night I would not dare change. Great steps were taken while Wallace's legend became a noteworthy part. So much joy and beauty.
We left for Marle to live and feel like barbarians among Romans, to enjoy the hard weather of the Ardennes. The trip was hard, but nice. And then came the news of an outrageous deed. Many have already heard of the heinous acts committed in my home town. Disbelief, rage, utter impotence, and fear, but not fear of death, but fear of loss. Thank the gods none known to me were lost that fatal day, but I did fear loss as never before, and I wept when news came, I wept out of joy and previous fear.
Then the rain came, and it cleansed us, it calmed us, and we spent the night in a camp of wolves sharing mead, joy and new-found friendship. And we were identified as barbarians.
We spent several days, among half-muddied fields, near a Merovingian village, surrounded by greatness of the past, Roman and Barbarian united. I got to see some of my heroes as well, like a fangirl I was all giggly and shy and proud and merry. Such beautiful people, such good vibes.
We trained for battle, we changed sides, we laughed, and ate and drank. And at night, by the fire, staring into the endless skies, the Roman vexilla glowed with the ember color of the peaceful flames before an infinite starry background. And I felt pride in this, the present past. Then a sage did speak, and part of my fate was read, truths from my own self were told, yet I uttered no word, but those eyes did see beyond. And an uncommon relief took over.
Songs of old were sung, and there was much merriment, and the stars brought thoughts in the distance that turned to smiles and wishes, and surprising yet positive realizations.
More people were met and introduced, great conversations with great individuals and excellent reenactment porn I was able to enjoy visually and digitally.
Those were good days!
High hopes on the road back led us to Alessia before taking back to the road. Words, thoughts, plans and deep conversations. Miles and miles that ended up leading me to a lost town were stars were seen again in an unexpected embrace.
A spiritual travel, revelations, raging beast awoken, but mellowed down to a whisper of foundation and joy. I smile.
Much negativity has been surrounding me and those close to me, but I defy and fight against fully sinking in. I wish myself positive, looking at the present and at the future, taking my fortune to spread so others may smile as well.
In regard to the previous sentence, I recently read about love. But not as in a romantic love, but love in all its potential. Love, real love, is or might be born from pain, not build on top of it. Loss, betrayal, pain are the foundations from which love must spring. Only then can we truly be happy and share this happiness with others. And it made so much sense to me.
I need to point out that I love Kintsukuroi, the Japanese art of fixing poetry with gold or silver-filled enamel which makes it unique and takes a part of you within. I know what I have fixed, and do not know its shape, but it goes "thump, thump" every once in a while. And I'm happy for it.
I leave you today with 3 gifts:
One is a beautiful sentence from a short video about judging too prematurely:
"A single act of caring creates an endless ripple"
The second one is an excerpt of a play by Shakespeare which I have always believed truly beautiful.
(Two Gentlemen of Verona)
"And why not death rather than living torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow of perfection
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death:
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life."
And the third one is a simple gift, a gift of a thistle...
lunes, 14 de agosto de 2017
Ic eom anhaga...
I find myself in front of a digital empty canvas after many hours of thinking what I'd be saying here. I even find myself listening to Depeche Mode by some weird device of fate, maybe even simply by chance...
It's been fucking amazing, the metal festival I've been to! I had some of my closest, and oldest friends with me... and the turning wheel of time granted me beautiful moments with them all, in which we were all reminded of our beginnings, of the self-destruction we have undergone among ourselves for several years. And, then, out of the blue, music poured in, and our hearts gladdened, our smiles widened, and we enjoyed each and every last beat, every bar, every note, every stir in the air, there was only music, we were not people, we were part of music. Arkona, Arch Enemy, Sabaton, Blind Guardian, the real Sepultura, Månegarm, Hammerfall, and Amon Amarth among others... Even a song by a Spanish band I had not heard in a long time was played acoustically for our enjoyment... and the lyrics still poured out of me under the blazing sun... Xana
We were all our younger selves again, stupid, naive kids for whom the world was still a place full of excitement, a place were consequences were insignificant. We joined the mosh pits, enjoyed our well begotten wounds, we feasted in the drinking grounds, we rolled in the grass, we showed many how real men fight, we drank to our health, to our friendship, to ourselves, and to the music that bound us long ago.
But of course, we also got shit faced and played the fool every single day... peaches, peaches, peaches in molds...
Those were the best of times, those were the worst of times. ...And it was beautiful, a single crew of the same single ship, sailing against all odds...
I got to see bands I had not seen before, I even went alone at some point just to hear a given band. And yet again music took hold of me, shook me up to my very soul and stirred within. Goosebumps were me. I smiled, my lips trembled, my face tightened, shivers went up and down my spine, everything around vanished, my eyes filled with water... and then I just let go, and I cried. I cried out of joy, I cried out of pain, I cried out of longing, I cried out of beauty and love, I cried out of rage. I cried, and smiled, and felt and let myself go.
I could go on and on, but that feeling is something one must have, it should not be read...
And out of all of this turmoil, another me thought on third, and smiles appeared again. I had forgotten how even the tiniest words can shake the foundations of mountains... and then I stared at the stars and saw fleeting travelers in the sky... and I smiled, alone, and still smiled again...
So many emotions in one single post, a single song won't do, so I leave these last thoughts and then I leave you all, for tonight...
Memorable quote:
"That's when you know you've found somebody really special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence" Q.Tarantino
Tracklist
Arch Enemy "My Apocalypse"
Blind Guardian "The Bard's Song (In the Forest)"
Amon Amarth's "The Way of Vikings"
Arkona "Pokrovy Nebesnogo Startsa"
R.E.M. "Losing My Religion"
Månegarm "Vredens Tid"
Vreid "Helvete"
Avalanch "Xana"
Hammerfall "Dreams Come True"
It's been fucking amazing, the metal festival I've been to! I had some of my closest, and oldest friends with me... and the turning wheel of time granted me beautiful moments with them all, in which we were all reminded of our beginnings, of the self-destruction we have undergone among ourselves for several years. And, then, out of the blue, music poured in, and our hearts gladdened, our smiles widened, and we enjoyed each and every last beat, every bar, every note, every stir in the air, there was only music, we were not people, we were part of music. Arkona, Arch Enemy, Sabaton, Blind Guardian, the real Sepultura, Månegarm, Hammerfall, and Amon Amarth among others... Even a song by a Spanish band I had not heard in a long time was played acoustically for our enjoyment... and the lyrics still poured out of me under the blazing sun... Xana
We were all our younger selves again, stupid, naive kids for whom the world was still a place full of excitement, a place were consequences were insignificant. We joined the mosh pits, enjoyed our well begotten wounds, we feasted in the drinking grounds, we rolled in the grass, we showed many how real men fight, we drank to our health, to our friendship, to ourselves, and to the music that bound us long ago.
But of course, we also got shit faced and played the fool every single day... peaches, peaches, peaches in molds...
Those were the best of times, those were the worst of times. ...And it was beautiful, a single crew of the same single ship, sailing against all odds...
I got to see bands I had not seen before, I even went alone at some point just to hear a given band. And yet again music took hold of me, shook me up to my very soul and stirred within. Goosebumps were me. I smiled, my lips trembled, my face tightened, shivers went up and down my spine, everything around vanished, my eyes filled with water... and then I just let go, and I cried. I cried out of joy, I cried out of pain, I cried out of longing, I cried out of beauty and love, I cried out of rage. I cried, and smiled, and felt and let myself go.
I could go on and on, but that feeling is something one must have, it should not be read...
And out of all of this turmoil, another me thought on third, and smiles appeared again. I had forgotten how even the tiniest words can shake the foundations of mountains... and then I stared at the stars and saw fleeting travelers in the sky... and I smiled, alone, and still smiled again...
So many emotions in one single post, a single song won't do, so I leave these last thoughts and then I leave you all, for tonight...
Memorable quote:
"That's when you know you've found somebody really special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence" Q.Tarantino
Tracklist
Arch Enemy "My Apocalypse"
Blind Guardian "The Bard's Song (In the Forest)"
Amon Amarth's "The Way of Vikings"
Arkona "Pokrovy Nebesnogo Startsa"
R.E.M. "Losing My Religion"
Månegarm "Vredens Tid"
Vreid "Helvete"
Avalanch "Xana"
Hammerfall "Dreams Come True"
martes, 1 de agosto de 2017
Oh night... if, again
Oh night, my ever faithful friend, thou commest with thy bewitchery and thine promises to me and thou expectest nothing save for my memories and longings. Yet 'tis a fair trade...
Waxing moon, silence, darkwave synth sounding, imagining, warm yet not scorching, on my own, yet not really alone, pondering...
Lately there seems to be more input that sort of pushes me toward reprising my earlier endeavors, such as writing, and playing an instrument. Although much has been lost these years since the great change, hope still remains strong.
And hope is something I've been thinking about for a long time now: what is hope? Not so long ago I defined hope as "strange word that is trying to sell me a non-existing future". But what if.... ah yes... me and my "ifs"... What if hope is something that is multilayered, with hundreds of faces, hundreds of corners,... what if hope isn't something fixed but what we ourselves create in order to help us overcome the worst kinds of fears and maybe start walking?
What if hope is an ever wavering state of mind in which we cling to the idea of a given type of success, even though this might be against all odds?
Well, following this stream of thought, I realized something... The types of hope I have had throughout my life so far, and how these have changed over time.
I used to have hopeless hope, the typical "everything will be alright, it will be dreamlike" kind, then went to the "I was wrong the first time, this time it's the real deal" kind, then to the "if I do this, this will definitely work" kind... by the way, don't look for any particular areas in which to apply these positions, I had used for those types of hope in all wakes of life.
What then, when crashing one time, and then another, and then another, like an endless succession of waves crashing against the sand before returning back to mother sea for more water-on-sand violence? Was I supposed to loose all hope? Am I then to give up and accept the dull grey "pass-through-the-world-do-not-alter-it" kind of existence?
Well, at this point there are, I guess, two ways of trying to interpret reality: either you go with the "this world is shit, there is no hope" position, or, my current favorite, "what the hell? let's live through this to the fullest, as if no bad things had ever happened".
"Why?" you might ask... "why not?" I reply.
We are always so afraid of things going the wrong way, of how many bad turns there are to take, of how many betrayals we might encounter along the way, of how many people might disappoint us, of how may issues will remain unresolved, of how many grudges will spawn...
And then I say, what if against all odds this is it (if there is such a thing as an it), what if there are no bad turns but merely a few rough jerks to the steering wheel; what if there are no betrayals because or own actions and thoughts make them impossible for other people to do; what if all new issues are resolved on the spot, what if no grudges spawn at all because we dare embrace life to the fullest, even though we know we all have an expiration date... what if we just dare to fear Fear itself, as it is the bravest thing one can do.
What if we try to look at life once more through the eyes of the child we, at some point, held under lock and key because our society ordered us to; what if we step aside from the grey being we are expected to be and to become, and we dare to risk each and every last of our breaths to enjoying even the tiniest bit of life itself until our unwanted doom... and what if we then dare to call this hope.
This I gift you with.
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race, and the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for."
Robin Williams Dead Poets Society
Waxing moon, silence, darkwave synth sounding, imagining, warm yet not scorching, on my own, yet not really alone, pondering...
Lately there seems to be more input that sort of pushes me toward reprising my earlier endeavors, such as writing, and playing an instrument. Although much has been lost these years since the great change, hope still remains strong.
And hope is something I've been thinking about for a long time now: what is hope? Not so long ago I defined hope as "strange word that is trying to sell me a non-existing future". But what if.... ah yes... me and my "ifs"... What if hope is something that is multilayered, with hundreds of faces, hundreds of corners,... what if hope isn't something fixed but what we ourselves create in order to help us overcome the worst kinds of fears and maybe start walking?
What if hope is an ever wavering state of mind in which we cling to the idea of a given type of success, even though this might be against all odds?
Well, following this stream of thought, I realized something... The types of hope I have had throughout my life so far, and how these have changed over time.
I used to have hopeless hope, the typical "everything will be alright, it will be dreamlike" kind, then went to the "I was wrong the first time, this time it's the real deal" kind, then to the "if I do this, this will definitely work" kind... by the way, don't look for any particular areas in which to apply these positions, I had used for those types of hope in all wakes of life.
What then, when crashing one time, and then another, and then another, like an endless succession of waves crashing against the sand before returning back to mother sea for more water-on-sand violence? Was I supposed to loose all hope? Am I then to give up and accept the dull grey "pass-through-the-world-do-not-alter-it" kind of existence?
Well, at this point there are, I guess, two ways of trying to interpret reality: either you go with the "this world is shit, there is no hope" position, or, my current favorite, "what the hell? let's live through this to the fullest, as if no bad things had ever happened".
"Why?" you might ask... "why not?" I reply.
We are always so afraid of things going the wrong way, of how many bad turns there are to take, of how many betrayals we might encounter along the way, of how many people might disappoint us, of how may issues will remain unresolved, of how many grudges will spawn...
And then I say, what if against all odds this is it (if there is such a thing as an it), what if there are no bad turns but merely a few rough jerks to the steering wheel; what if there are no betrayals because or own actions and thoughts make them impossible for other people to do; what if all new issues are resolved on the spot, what if no grudges spawn at all because we dare embrace life to the fullest, even though we know we all have an expiration date... what if we just dare to fear Fear itself, as it is the bravest thing one can do.
What if we try to look at life once more through the eyes of the child we, at some point, held under lock and key because our society ordered us to; what if we step aside from the grey being we are expected to be and to become, and we dare to risk each and every last of our breaths to enjoying even the tiniest bit of life itself until our unwanted doom... and what if we then dare to call this hope.
This I gift you with.
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race, and the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for."
Robin Williams Dead Poets Society
sábado, 29 de julio de 2017
Uncommon... reflecting
I've spent the last 30 minutes in front of my screen wondering what it is I feel the need to belch upon this world today... The only conclusion I've reached is that, instead of doing automatic writing as I always do, I'll give everything a thought before writing it down and the I'll be re-reading it. I know this is not like me, but hey, I don't think it'll hurt this once. Still, don't get any ideas of me writing regularly here, that ain't happening any time soon.
I was listening to a YouTube selection of Synthwave and RetroElectro music which clearly had a distinct 80-esque ring to it. As I was listening, I went to Wikipedia (haters com at me if you dare!) and looked synthwave up. I was surprised to see, beyond the description of how the style appeared and a bit of history, a list of bands the first one cited being Depeche Mode. Now, I've never had any interested in them or their work, but as I linked concepts in my mind, I recalled the first time I had ever heard about Depeche Mode: it was in a Spanish pop FanMag called SuperPop (I think it still exists), I swear I was unable to know whether that was an English or French name, and had absolutely no idea how to pronounce it. But the idea I got from them was that they were just another one of these commercial successes happening in pop music and nothing beyond that. How could I have known they be this long lasting?
Back to the thing... I suddenly felt a... let's just say curiosity about how they do indeed sound: if I like modern synthwave that sounds like 80's synthwave, maybe I could end up liking that as well. It's been surprising, and what is even more amazing, a few of the tunes off thir first album I had already heard sometime somewhere, maybe ask a kid even...
The sun is no longer shining with it's scorching might but is slowly letting the night take over. And this eases my thinking.
It was a good night, I was reacquainted with people I had seen, in some cases, in ten years. And although we've changed, we were still able to recognize each other and to know exactly when and where we had met. It was a series of happy, and fortunate incidents, that lead to enjoying 6 year-old spicy German mead, to conversations with an ex's ex who is a far nicer guy than I ever though or even wanted to accept, late night sword play in the street, and of course a long list of anecdotes from the past...
Some of us are getting older, others like me not really, but still, when we meet, our inner kids come out and call for our help in not hiding them under lock and key. I had to experience the old-time "no, you can't come in dressed like that" and for once in my life I was happy about it, the guy was shit-scared about my looks, pretty normal I may add (cargo pants, sneakers, sleeveless metal band t-shirt and of course upper arm tattoos, and my long hair flowing surrounding my beard)...
Today I still had bit of green in my hair, something stuck with me all through the night, from park I was lucky enough to sit in for a while, under the greenish shade of a tree, just...being.
... and I smiled to myself...
I was listening to a YouTube selection of Synthwave and RetroElectro music which clearly had a distinct 80-esque ring to it. As I was listening, I went to Wikipedia (haters com at me if you dare!) and looked synthwave up. I was surprised to see, beyond the description of how the style appeared and a bit of history, a list of bands the first one cited being Depeche Mode. Now, I've never had any interested in them or their work, but as I linked concepts in my mind, I recalled the first time I had ever heard about Depeche Mode: it was in a Spanish pop FanMag called SuperPop (I think it still exists), I swear I was unable to know whether that was an English or French name, and had absolutely no idea how to pronounce it. But the idea I got from them was that they were just another one of these commercial successes happening in pop music and nothing beyond that. How could I have known they be this long lasting?
Back to the thing... I suddenly felt a... let's just say curiosity about how they do indeed sound: if I like modern synthwave that sounds like 80's synthwave, maybe I could end up liking that as well. It's been surprising, and what is even more amazing, a few of the tunes off thir first album I had already heard sometime somewhere, maybe ask a kid even...
The sun is no longer shining with it's scorching might but is slowly letting the night take over. And this eases my thinking.
It was a good night, I was reacquainted with people I had seen, in some cases, in ten years. And although we've changed, we were still able to recognize each other and to know exactly when and where we had met. It was a series of happy, and fortunate incidents, that lead to enjoying 6 year-old spicy German mead, to conversations with an ex's ex who is a far nicer guy than I ever though or even wanted to accept, late night sword play in the street, and of course a long list of anecdotes from the past...
Some of us are getting older, others like me not really, but still, when we meet, our inner kids come out and call for our help in not hiding them under lock and key. I had to experience the old-time "no, you can't come in dressed like that" and for once in my life I was happy about it, the guy was shit-scared about my looks, pretty normal I may add (cargo pants, sneakers, sleeveless metal band t-shirt and of course upper arm tattoos, and my long hair flowing surrounding my beard)...
Today I still had bit of green in my hair, something stuck with me all through the night, from park I was lucky enough to sit in for a while, under the greenish shade of a tree, just...being.
... and I smiled to myself...
viernes, 28 de julio de 2017
All cards in
My beloved unfaithful followers, as I am your unfaithful writer, here I stand, once more before you naked in my own self, pouring out my emotional entrails.
"Jatta, jatta, jatta, give us some juice!" Maybe some of you might be thinking...
Well, 2017 is becoming an outstanding year. Hey, don't fret! It is!
I've spent some time already remembering days long gone, how I met my friends, how I suffered to evolved to the self-righteous meaningless being I am today.
Well, first off, I'm content. Content but not in the manner you are all thinking of as some sort of nerdy little prick content with a new deck of D&D cards hiding in his parents' basement.
I analyze, and overanalyze (some I know would agree), about how I've led my life. Mistakes? Many made, many more to go. For starters, it is the first time I'm writing from my own bedroom computer since 2009. Why, because I couldn't keep silent any more, because if I have to write, I'll do so on my own terms, when I need it, not when my conditions are "appropriate". You might even say I'm impulsive. And I like that thought. ;)
Aaaaanyway... I've spent a few months reviewing the evolution of my musical tastes, listening to my old high-school mix-cds (yeah, I might be old, but not old enough to keep on saying mixtapes. Up yours). And of course, as some of you might already know or be thinking, this triggered both my shallowest and deepest memories. I've gone back to places I thought I'd never see again. And these thoughts I was fortunate enough to have someone around me to share them with someone at a given point.
I like how I have gone from a guy with low self esteem more than 15 years ago, to a guy who knows what he likes and wants (at least every once in a while), a guy who is so clear toward himself that whatever the results of a certain action, he always accepts the outcome as his own responsibility, even if it is not that what he was hoping for...
You know me for my late night ramblings after a few cigarettes and some booze, but this is different, this time I have not been trying to temporarily escape my own blocks. I do miss the ritual though...
I've seen myself 15 years ago, I've seen my friends, I have felt once more the old teenage angst, the old teenage awe toward the world and the fear that went with it. And I am so grateful for my memory and how these chances have helped me evolve. My colleague once told that I am able to look at the past in a manner so clear she envies it sometimes. But yes, I do remember that day.
I'm not getting older, well, maybe physically, but not mentally,. I'm getting riper, I ponder, I analyze, I look, and I get to see beauty in places I had never expected before. I'm no longer that pessimist. I believe in my future, even if it don't shine bright. It is mine, it will be mine, and the best I can have in it is my determination, whatever may come.
Ramblings...
I've felt once more like the 20-year-old I used to be, I enjoy music once more as I did back then, I do the same stupid shit I did back then when listening to this same music, I even end up signing and dancing at work. I'm content, and I am happy. And then I find hope, but not spiritual, not in the gods nor the rituals, but through someone where my happiness can shine upon. I never asked for this gift, however long or short this may last, and my yearly highlight has already been met, found and it was sublime.
Some might argue I am suffering from Peter Pan's syndrome. Fuck you, or not. If I am, then this life is better than the one I had before.
It is amazing what you can achieve with a sincere smile and nice words to people. I might be the greatest asshole in the planet, but every night I manage to go to sleep knowing I did some good to someone to some extent. I'm happy, I'm content. Laughter I have brought, but not because I needed to see it but because I felt fortunate enough to be willing to share both my humor and my life energy in a given context in which I never required any reciprocity.
I could go on and on about this but my future me would kill me when reading this. The www does not need my happiness neither to thrive nor to exist. But some lost dark soul might be out there and maybe this endeavor of mine shall be complete by that person ending up here. after all, all what you are seeing is that part of me which I freely chose to gift you with.
Whatever may come, today I have had a smile upon my face, and everytime I look back, I see those intrigued and yet hungry eyes, looking at me with a sort of devotion and curiosity I was no longer able to conceive beyond my imagination in recent years.
One more thing will be said, and "then there was silence"
"Jatta, jatta, jatta, give us some juice!" Maybe some of you might be thinking...
Well, 2017 is becoming an outstanding year. Hey, don't fret! It is!
I've spent some time already remembering days long gone, how I met my friends, how I suffered to evolved to the self-righteous meaningless being I am today.
Well, first off, I'm content. Content but not in the manner you are all thinking of as some sort of nerdy little prick content with a new deck of D&D cards hiding in his parents' basement.
I analyze, and overanalyze (some I know would agree), about how I've led my life. Mistakes? Many made, many more to go. For starters, it is the first time I'm writing from my own bedroom computer since 2009. Why, because I couldn't keep silent any more, because if I have to write, I'll do so on my own terms, when I need it, not when my conditions are "appropriate". You might even say I'm impulsive. And I like that thought. ;)
Aaaaanyway... I've spent a few months reviewing the evolution of my musical tastes, listening to my old high-school mix-cds (yeah, I might be old, but not old enough to keep on saying mixtapes. Up yours). And of course, as some of you might already know or be thinking, this triggered both my shallowest and deepest memories. I've gone back to places I thought I'd never see again. And these thoughts I was fortunate enough to have someone around me to share them with someone at a given point.
I like how I have gone from a guy with low self esteem more than 15 years ago, to a guy who knows what he likes and wants (at least every once in a while), a guy who is so clear toward himself that whatever the results of a certain action, he always accepts the outcome as his own responsibility, even if it is not that what he was hoping for...
You know me for my late night ramblings after a few cigarettes and some booze, but this is different, this time I have not been trying to temporarily escape my own blocks. I do miss the ritual though...
I've seen myself 15 years ago, I've seen my friends, I have felt once more the old teenage angst, the old teenage awe toward the world and the fear that went with it. And I am so grateful for my memory and how these chances have helped me evolve. My colleague once told that I am able to look at the past in a manner so clear she envies it sometimes. But yes, I do remember that day.
I'm not getting older, well, maybe physically, but not mentally,. I'm getting riper, I ponder, I analyze, I look, and I get to see beauty in places I had never expected before. I'm no longer that pessimist. I believe in my future, even if it don't shine bright. It is mine, it will be mine, and the best I can have in it is my determination, whatever may come.
Ramblings...
I've felt once more like the 20-year-old I used to be, I enjoy music once more as I did back then, I do the same stupid shit I did back then when listening to this same music, I even end up signing and dancing at work. I'm content, and I am happy. And then I find hope, but not spiritual, not in the gods nor the rituals, but through someone where my happiness can shine upon. I never asked for this gift, however long or short this may last, and my yearly highlight has already been met, found and it was sublime.
Some might argue I am suffering from Peter Pan's syndrome. Fuck you, or not. If I am, then this life is better than the one I had before.
It is amazing what you can achieve with a sincere smile and nice words to people. I might be the greatest asshole in the planet, but every night I manage to go to sleep knowing I did some good to someone to some extent. I'm happy, I'm content. Laughter I have brought, but not because I needed to see it but because I felt fortunate enough to be willing to share both my humor and my life energy in a given context in which I never required any reciprocity.
I could go on and on about this but my future me would kill me when reading this. The www does not need my happiness neither to thrive nor to exist. But some lost dark soul might be out there and maybe this endeavor of mine shall be complete by that person ending up here. after all, all what you are seeing is that part of me which I freely chose to gift you with.
Whatever may come, today I have had a smile upon my face, and everytime I look back, I see those intrigued and yet hungry eyes, looking at me with a sort of devotion and curiosity I was no longer able to conceive beyond my imagination in recent years.
One more thing will be said, and "then there was silence"
miércoles, 25 de enero de 2017
Enter 2017, stage left
Slightly over a month since my last derailing into this blog, and things have taken not one but a few more turns... some good, some not so good... as always.
In exactly one year, I have gone from having 4 grandparents to only 1. January 1, Mid May, January 1... It can be said loss can be easily coped with when you get older, but some people leave a mark on you so deep a drill couldn't get to it.
I've been meaning to write, as I began doing again this Summer. It seems I even have a ritual, writing 70km from home, always at night and with something to drink, and smoke. Yup, that thing I should start quitting... I know...
As I was saying, I had been meaning to write just as I had already finished my previous post... but something kept holding me back, and it wasn't procrastination... it was as if I wasn't supposed to, as if I had to give myself time settle my thought down and let whatever I was feeling drain out before leaving it here.
But ah, cruel fates that have a tendency to complicate things, this time you've done a good job I must say...
In December I actually started procrastinating, sort of like began to live again the life of a 20-year-old, except that I was working longer hours than I did back then. But I was going out every single day of the week, even if it meant a few drinks on the street instead of in a bar or pub or club or whatever you picture in your minds. And for the first time in like... ages, I felt happier, not because I got shit faced pretty often, which I did, of course; but because I was sort of letting go of my self-imposed leash of proper behavior.
Then came Christmas, or Yuletide, or Saturnalia, or whatever you like to call it.
And then along came a strange situation which has made me rethink some of my preferences and mid term goals, soort of adapt them. I know there is quite a chance of getting my head chopped off even... but I think the end goal, if the other players are willing, is well worth taking the risk. Just need to mention that nobody expected the Spanish Inquisition (may those who know understand).
But my friends, that was Sunday when I wrote. And today I've felt a twist inside, and have seen rage in myself like I had not seen in quite a while. I'm sick and tired of neutrality and pretended normality, I creave blood, I no longer wish for justice, for justice is not coming. And there are people saying they just want to be OK... well OK comes with a price, and if the penance is for being true, then the liars are to perish and fall, and we need to rejoice because of their demise.
I am angry, and saddened, and I have hope in me, and yet I refuse to believe it fully for the messages seem to vary. I want blood, that of others, spilt.
"Let me die without fear!
As I have lived without it
So shut your mouth and spare my ears
I'm fed up with all your bullshit"
In exactly one year, I have gone from having 4 grandparents to only 1. January 1, Mid May, January 1... It can be said loss can be easily coped with when you get older, but some people leave a mark on you so deep a drill couldn't get to it.
I've been meaning to write, as I began doing again this Summer. It seems I even have a ritual, writing 70km from home, always at night and with something to drink, and smoke. Yup, that thing I should start quitting... I know...
As I was saying, I had been meaning to write just as I had already finished my previous post... but something kept holding me back, and it wasn't procrastination... it was as if I wasn't supposed to, as if I had to give myself time settle my thought down and let whatever I was feeling drain out before leaving it here.
But ah, cruel fates that have a tendency to complicate things, this time you've done a good job I must say...
In December I actually started procrastinating, sort of like began to live again the life of a 20-year-old, except that I was working longer hours than I did back then. But I was going out every single day of the week, even if it meant a few drinks on the street instead of in a bar or pub or club or whatever you picture in your minds. And for the first time in like... ages, I felt happier, not because I got shit faced pretty often, which I did, of course; but because I was sort of letting go of my self-imposed leash of proper behavior.
Then came Christmas, or Yuletide, or Saturnalia, or whatever you like to call it.
And then along came a strange situation which has made me rethink some of my preferences and mid term goals, soort of adapt them. I know there is quite a chance of getting my head chopped off even... but I think the end goal, if the other players are willing, is well worth taking the risk. Just need to mention that nobody expected the Spanish Inquisition (may those who know understand).
But my friends, that was Sunday when I wrote. And today I've felt a twist inside, and have seen rage in myself like I had not seen in quite a while. I'm sick and tired of neutrality and pretended normality, I creave blood, I no longer wish for justice, for justice is not coming. And there are people saying they just want to be OK... well OK comes with a price, and if the penance is for being true, then the liars are to perish and fall, and we need to rejoice because of their demise.
I am angry, and saddened, and I have hope in me, and yet I refuse to believe it fully for the messages seem to vary. I want blood, that of others, spilt.
"Let me die without fear!
As I have lived without it
So shut your mouth and spare my ears
I'm fed up with all your bullshit"
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