Cadavre Exquis

Nigh on two years, no ritual followed, but scratching the back of my head ever since, now has the itch returned and after drainage words may come.

Too many images thoughts and pondering, two many fronts, too many wounds left unattended building up. Yet time has come, like the circular feeling of existence that I experience. Life in numbers, memories in years, expectations unmet, desires unfulfilled and then realization of the broader picture. Drifting back and forth, hoping strength shall remain unwavering. Yet the warrior, the man-child, has its limits.

For a moment I thought to myself "what if all this I'm experiencing right now is but a figment of my imagination, an amazing one at that, and I'm still 19, trapped in my 19-year-old body filled with teenage angst and unfullfilable expectations". And then everything came rushing in, nearly two decades of experiences, faces, smiles, shouting, cries, and dreams of a future that never got to be. One? Hundreds upon hundreds.

If I could talk to my 19-year-old-self, would I tell him everything? Would I help him avoid the spots where I crashed, where I went wrong with me and others, would I be that kind of sci-fi douchebag that tries to change his present by changing his past? Would I deprive myself of all sorrows, and all the joy as well, in order to correct my course and get somewhere else in life? Would I tell him - me - about the fatal dates? Would I warn him in order to avoid certain acquaintances long lost in time? Would I tell him to cherish every single moment, or would I let him just go ahead and help him speed up on hi way, on his most collision course? Would I return time after just to check on him - me - so he may acknowledge the truth of my words, or would I just try to rekindle trust so he's not alone all those many days, nights and time in between?

At 19 I had still never lost anyone, at least none that I had taken for granted. I though my problems were the world's. I hoped for change, but did not rush, I but held it back, afraid it might become what I actually desired. I longed, desired, wish for change, many small one making the big one happen. But my spectator spot was well furnished, comfortable, change was but a mythical creature , something that could only happen to others who were luckier than me - or at least luckier than what I thought it meant "to be lucky" -.

Memory is an amazing thing, you see, for depending on the type of memory you train, you may get to forget useless stuff and keep those memories that keep you focused on your goals; or you may get to have the sort of memory in which you remember all details. And my, for one, has the ability to keep millions of single memories, single events, or whole sessions of images, sounds, smells, and yes, unfortunately, emotions...

At this point, you may be wondering "why so serious?" - as a well known Joker once said -. Quarantine.

"So, yeah, dude, you're like, duh, losing your mind, like trippin'? Whad'cha smoking there, dude?"

For many quarantine is a new phenomenon, a strange situation in which you feel incarcerated, no chance of stepping out without chancing a fight with the warden's thugs. But I have - sadly - realized this is not as foreign to me as I had expected. It brings memories, you see, back to my 19-year-old self. And I see that even now there many changes which I have neither embraced nor taken, for fear, for fear of having something that I'd enjoy more having -  not as in possessing -. I talked to others, pointed my finger and called out cowardice, all the while having three fingers point at me with a clenched fist. The Rules of Three! That which you denounce against The Other is thrice aimed at you.

Then I realize more things I should have braved, so many my 19-year-old self  had expected me to brave. I tell him "but can't you see how far I've taken us?", but his reply is "you're still the same old me in an ageing bone-case, I can see myself inside of you, but you are not who we needed to be, how we needed us to be".

I have disappointed him. I should maybe start caring a little more for him, so long had I longed for him to go away that now that I see that we are drifting apart I want to hold on to him, I don't want to lose him...

Hello Darkness, my old friend...

Self-imposed censorship

Self-imposed censorship, on dire words,
from unknown forest dreaded roots,
in daggerlike utterances, no semblance,
of spoken vibes and chills. 
Sedition, perdition, prickling affliction,
unbeknownst, constrained, in mirror
silenced, crawling horror
fearing tomorrow, the dreading silence
unwelcome visitor, no violence,

Patch up...

Patch up your wounds till they become scars or just bleed out...

Again you find me here, about to start my ramblings. In these last few months writing has clearly not been my priority, and it still ain't, but sometimes it's ok to let off some steam...

Things worth mentioning... I'd say about three twists have taken place in my life in these months, all of them aim-changing, and of course this became forceful adaptation at some crazy-ass Darwinist level I had not intended to acknowledge any time soon. But life is change right?

Not writing ritual today, sorry, not even incense filling my nostrils, I'm not in the mood for such mellow scents. I just miss the Highlands...

I wonder, and ponder, and think, and get tired, and think some more, and drink, and breathe, and smoke, and breathe, and I think, and think yet again... but some things have begun to change in me, I can feel it.

Some corners of anxiety have been scraped out, but it's a hard struggle, and there is no stronger opponent than oneself... and mine is a tough motherfucker all armed and armored ready for doomsday... we get by sometimes though... yes, in my lowest hours when defeat was the bitter kiss I felt on my tongue, it told me to either patch up my wounds and hope for them to become scars or just simply bleed out in my own pool of self disgust and denial... and man, having such a tough motherfucker by your  side sometimes is nasty business, but thanks for the help dude... though I still hate your guts for pushing me forward...

Oioioioi... there it goes again, this brain of mine... My latest questions to world are, or would be: am I to give up principles for existence? Am I to stand tall or stand aside? Should I let the current take me or try to sink my feet into the sand hoping to hold out when the next wave hits? Should I stop wondering or thinking and just let loose? Am I doomed to fall within the grasp of ancient patterns?

These and many more follow me, seek me out and haunt me... and still among all these heaps of inconsistency and painful existential doubts I seem to find something within to hold on to, hope if you will, stubbornness most likely... and the best part is that this... what-ever-you-call-it keeps me going with myself and with others. Of course, life is the most certain uncertainty, and accepting uncertainty and loss are two of the most difficult lessons we are faced with... and I have my doubts whether anybody is really able to stand the test, I'm guessing most people just pretend and go on about their business hoping the sticky tentacles of loss and uncertainty give them another break...

Honestly now, I don't know where I'm going with this... maybe I do... either way, it's none of your business. Wish me luck in getting fucked in the ass by life or getting shit-faced every once in a while after drowning in my own content and self pity while trying to save the world or some individual...

Today I choose to patch up my wounds, to stand tall. Tomorrow... I might choose differently... but not today.

"Before all things reborn again
You learn the painful breath of time

(...)

And through the bitter cold, with opened eyes
You'll find the strength to fight and stand upright"

Gojira Born in Winter

Empty spaces

When the brain keeps on going, not to a single place but to many at the same time, no completion is found. A stop is necessary, but stopping does not imply ceasing to be nor to exist. Maybe a break is something necessary for the brain every once in a while, however, the ongoing struggle against reality, imposed by the outside, and the inner struggle, meet in a clash of titans, sometimes lasting for years.

I actually have no fucking clue what I'm writing about, I did a couple of minutes ago yet it all seems so futile. Weird year so far indeed... What are the signs? Are there any at all?
Change, ever happening, change, ever present... no water runs still...

Empty cups and full hopes, and in between music and thoughts and sorrow and greatness and nothingness...

Never mind my words, I guess this is just an exercise after so long a time without any written words...

I understand my self though, I think...

Down in a Hole by Alice in Chains

"Down in a hole and they've put all the stones in their place
I've eaten the sun so my tongue has been burned of the taste
I have been guilty of kicking myself in the teeth
I will speak no more of my feelings beneath"

Good enough

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)

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"

"(...)

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

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...