September 14, 2003

  • Block


    There are so many things happening, and I have got so much to say… But the words dont come easy. Maybe mind can´t put thoughts together. Writer´s block? Dunno…. Let me get some rest….


September 10, 2003





  • pucker up


                                               


    Let us caress one another with the lips – gently coming into contact with the souls we’ve learned to love. Sometimes you say you have nothing to say yet I always long to know. I’m curiously searching after your words.


     Have you ever fallen in love with the voice singing your favorite song? Do you ever fall in love with the words you read on a page/screen? Sometimes it isn’t love but rather a compelling passion we feel – compassion. We feel a sympathetic consciousness of others’ distress together with a desire to alleviate it.


     Some people would seem to have a gravity force field around them. We find ourselves being pulled in their direction and there is no way to get them out of our minds. Know anyone like that? Wonder what makes them so desirable? It is their passion. It acts as an external agent or force. An overmastering feeling which rules their lives making them oh so attractive.


     ”The only thing worth writing comes from deep inside, sometimes I get so deep I feel I can see my self walking on the ocean floor watching the sun set”. -Jimi Hendrix


     ”A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” -Maya Angelou


    “I paint my own reality. The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.” -Frida


     When a person reveals their passion in whatever form, whether it’d be art, words, music, or whatever else, one can’t help but to be moved. One can’t help but to want for more. I know I’ve asked before but I can’t help it. I want more therefore I must ask: What drives you? What is your ruling passion? What remains in you outside of reason? You see, for me, it’s people. The dreams of my students fuel my own. Their success makes my heart smile. And when they are afraid, I want to lead the way regardless of my own insecurities. The way that I easily make someone smile makes  me feel bleesed. The way I manage to learn from people, and so many other things I´m unable to number here… No wonder God spent some good time on us. How amazing is that? Because of them, I’m able to overcome my own fears and achieve even the most unexpected dreams.


     When is the last time you fell in love? I hope it was today.


     PS So, how about a kiss while I’m still here? Make it good because I’m still celebrating my birthday.* *

September 8, 2003

  • CAROUSEL FLESH

    Tell me where the difference is,
    Tell me where the circle ends,
    Tell me when the carousel won’t make me sick
    With its nickel nightmare nightly crushing the paper stars
    Hung with poisoned care, growing weak
    Upon the crowded thoroughfares,
    While the angels flare and die
    Like incandescent moths just above the heads
    Of the unconscious.
    I see them flutter
    In miniature agony,
    Streaking the chipped-paint horses
    With ash, under these flashing baubles
    And glittering gold of sad-eyed fairy tales.
    I see it fade away
    As though my afterthoughts
    Had drowned them
    In a plastic cup of pain.

    The music is not loud enough,
    To make a difference,
    Only enough to jiggle the dry bones
    Before my eyes in the wanlight
    That sparkles and spins.
    Surrounded by the glow of lament,
    How can I fail to see
    That I am alone?
    That the voices will always echo
    Off my skin, their hands touch
    A surface little warmer
    Than the empty saddles
    Of the sorrow-hung faces of hollow-sung horses;
    Oh, follow me dreamers,
    To the battered-mirror room,
    Where our faces will bounce about
    And stare at us with three thousand tired eyes,
    Veined with cluttered, rainy red gutters.

    There, we will be alone,
    With the best semblance of company,
    An illusion of someone else,
    A shattered stranger with a face as cracked
    As our inner eyes,
    Staring back with accusations as new
    As the fading bodies
    Of the carousel steeds.

September 7, 2003





  • Just another day…



     Another Septembet 7th is here. In Brazil, it is a national holiday, its Independence day is celebrated. News on parades all over the country, children singing the country´s hymn, everybody dressing in yellow and green, famous people on tv mentioning the wonders of being Brazilian. It´s an odd winter day, 83F outside. It´s a bright sunny one.. … …..


    It´s my birthday as well. For the first time in years, I´m not properly celebrating it. Day started well. Went to church in the morning, took my godaughter along with me. Heard the words of God and learned more of it at Sunday school. Had lunch at mom´s, got a few calls from closest friends, and now I´m taking a break alone. Just thinking and feeling moments. Concluding that all these do make sense to me, and this time i live is so very greater than any time has ever been. So many little things make my day better and my soul gladder.. As for the people who matter now, and also to whom I matter to. as for the way I play the violin, and for the drawings and paintings I have been making. And so, so many things I have no conditions to list here. It would not be fair to take just a day to celebrate. But do a bit of it each day. Every day… God, I´m happy. With all the troubles I have been facing, even with that, i´m glad and grateful.


    Well…day has not  ended yet… Let me catch up with some more stuff to do… And hopefully get some more calls..


    Have a great day, you all!


September 4, 2003






  • This is Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo- Brazil~photos

     


    waterfall


    i wonder if anyone else notices the fountain. that sits lonesomely beside some underpass entrance to the esplanade, along the walk from city hall to fullerton area. i hate it when they stop the flow of the water whenever i’m there. i mean what’s a fountain for when basic feature of it doesn’t even function most of the time? i wonder.


     anyway, it’s a nice place to sit around and talk. maybe even lying on the hard concrete floor, watching the clouds move gradually with the wind and the occasional trishaw guys past with techno music volume-up to the highest to attract silly tourists. the flowers that bloomed so ever sweetly seemed like some fake plastic plants lining the long walkway in bright yellow and white. time was and will never be a major factor. it’s a rare tranquility in the midst of the bustling urban district. nicely hidden yet noticable.


     a place to say a last good bye. a place to talk about dreams. a place to set the next unknown meeting time. a place to memorise the curve of his nose and the sparkle of those blue-green iris. a place to crush the remaining pack of menthol lights and swear never to touch fag ever again. a place where secret memories are concealed nicely till the next time u decide to dig up the buried recollection.


    life is such, build up ur dreams with solid logs of hopes and desires & risk them tumbling down when you reach the peak…

September 2, 2003





  • desire me


     My desires come alive in the images of art and love, generally manifested as a sense of sin – that forbidden, that damned word “pleasure.” I’m not speaking of my sexuality but rather of my spirituality – the quality of my life. I was raised not to trust my own desires. My mind doesn’t know what’s best for my body and my heart is easily fooled. I was raised to believe I can be anything I want to be as long as I don’t cross the line.


     I never was comfortable with the idea of not being able to explore the infinite universe that is my own soul. I don’t consider myself a rebel but I do question the now – right now. I believe the answer to it will determine the fate of the world we have made. I refuse to become less than the production of goods. The definition of a being that works should be changed to that of a being that desires.


     Some, young people in particular, mistake their desires with lust – a temporary craving. Their career paths are chosen according to the current potential to make money. Currency up and currency down. Buckle up for the ride of your life. I wish we didn’t focus so much on all of those short-term “realistic” measures that produce. We strengthen the status quo and in turn strengthen a system that grows and spreads at the expense of the people who feed it: as its reality increases, so does our unreality.


     What about everything else? What will truly make us happy? What is the one thing we all have in common? I will dare to say it is our solitude – our need for redemption and a redeemer. I’m not talking about religion, although it could apply, but our need for someone else. Our desire to share who we really are. The irony of it all is that when given the oportunity, we tend to be who we are expected to be. After all, I was raised not to trust my own desires. The outcome? Memory boxes filled with missed or misused oportunities over and over again.


     I’ve learned much from my parents. From both their mistakes and successes. I’ve educated myself and will continue to pursue knowledge wherever I go for as long as I live. Drawn outside the lines signifies everything there is for me to take. I want you to see that everything is there for me to take. Some things are good for me and some aren’t. I choose. So let me ask, what are your desires? Take me on a journey of sensual wisdom. Wake up my heart.

September 1, 2003

  • meaning to life

    it seems so hard to revel in joy thoroughly when you still have haunting unhappiness kept in the deepest closet of the memory bed. at other times when you get a concentrated dose of euphoria, you simply have no idea how to react because it seemed kind of foreign altogether. then just when you start to realise the phenomenal touch, and relish it in gladness, it has to come to an end so abruptly as it came.

    love. joy. happiness.

    what is real happiness to you? what do u want in life so much that once u possess it, that’s true happiness to you in your own personal defination of it?

    i don’t wanna be lonely anymore.

August 30, 2003

  • To you…


    Rarely have I written  an entry that was dedicated to one person in special. But this one realy is so. And I still cannot figure out what or how this is going to be. I may write about a dream I had. And someone special was in it. I may write about something that happened as quick and as great as a dream. Or about someone who´s so good as a dream, that soon had to leave. I may write about someone I thought to be the right one for me, but at the end, turned out to be wrong… Yes! I´ll write about that… Someone who´s all wrong in every detail. That way it is easier to accept that this one has gone far, as fast as a dream… This is all about you, dear Knight… hope you see this…


    i miss the wrong great smell of your skin, and the wrong wonderful 3 different shades of your eyes. i miss the wrong way you came and surprise me, and the wrong  pleasant way you made me feel. i miss the wrong so longed times you turned off the tv and the lights… and i miss the precious wrong time i felt wanted after that… your wrong breath, your wrong weight on my body, your wrong words to my ears…


    i miss the wrong amount of diet coke you drank, and the wrong neat jokes you told. i miss your wrong amazing inteligence, and your damn wrong way to say you love me. i miss all the thousand songs you like that are exactly the wrong thousand kinds of songs i love. i miss your wrong precious calls, and the wrong questions about me. i miss the way i never got to understand your intentions till you kissed me. i miss your wrong interest in my culture and language, i miss your so right voice…  i hate the wrong place we are now. I miss you. so very much, it makes me lie.


    Saudades…


    …


August 28, 2003

  • Let me find myself before I tell you who I am.


    Hello,
    You’ve been working hard lately and it is beginning to show through your wounds that bleed beneath your skin. Nonetheless you hold your head high like everything’s just fine and you’ll act like this heart of mine doesn’t ache every second of every day. The whole’ Change has come upon you so slowly, but so quickly. Everything is now so different, but its all still so near the same. You try to stand and act like the remnants of your past haven’t left you bitter and alone, but underneath that under the camouflage of deception you’re so young and naïve. Don’t you think I can feel it too? One can only lie to oneself for so long and finally all the pretense must be broken down to find a true self which one has been hidden beneath, a treasure hunt indeed. You’ve done so well hiding underneath it all, but how long until you break and fall? When will my face be revealed outward to this cruel world? Will you give in to their calls or let yourself be you? Self improvement cannot be forced, nor shown by unwilling strain. It is a choice one must take upon by the one and only, them. I’ll let you be the one to choose. I’ll let you find what’s best to find who’s you.
    Yours truly,
    Yourself.

August 26, 2003

  • love me, love me not


    In our world, love is an almost inaccessible experience. Everything is against it: morals, classes, laws, races and the very lovers themselves. If one part of our being longs to unite itself with another, another part rejects and excludes him or her. We become something we are not in order to “fit” nicely together. Thus our relationships are poisoned at the root.


    I’ve previously shared with you about my insecurities in my fragmented self. My being divided between what I really am and what I imagine myself to be – an image dictated to me by family, class, school, friends, religion and lover. How do I express my femininity without manifesting myself in forms men have invented for me?


    If you ask me, love is not a “natural” thing. It is the most human trait of all. Something that we have made ourselves and that is not found in nature. Something that we create, and destroy, every day. Love is a choice – a free choosing of our destiny, a sudden discovery of the most secret and fateful part of our being.


    What we ask of love is that it give us a bit of true life. We want to escape the feeling of solitude yet we like to pretend that our thinking is wide-awake. We lose ourselves in the mirrors of reason. We dream with our eyes open not realizing the dreams of reason are intolerable. If I dare to love, I will first have to dare to be myself. I have to destroy the image in which I have been imprisoned. And then, perhaps, I will begin to dream once more with my eyes closed.


    Can you feel the love tonight????