It's a true exposure and a real risk to show your (of course true) feelings. When people can, they attack you, they try to bite a piece out of you. They try to make you fall into contradiction, they try to make you look like a fool. Well, let them try! You will die a little, it's also true. And you may even suffer. But if you are strong and faithful to yourself, you can always rise. Rise and rise, and rise again over them. Be true to yourself, be honest; it's what matters. That's your code of honor.
"... King against King! Love one another with burning hearts; on the low men trample in the fierce lust of your pride, in the day of your wrath." (Book of the Law, v. 24. Chapter II)
I think that when someone threatens you with your life, you cannot see this person in the same way ever again.
But these threats are subjective, they could be removed for they are a psychological pression imposed on a organism, causing it to struggle so strongly to the point of some kind of death. When the threatening situation puts you in a corner which is impossible for you to move, and you have no allies, and the one you thought it was in love with you have greater plans that do not include you, or inflicts the pain... When you take everthying seriously, when you take every word as truth, when you try to give some room for the situation to breeth but still, no signs that it will change, when you believe that the invitations that were not made and that the things that were not said will, most definitely, undermine all your trust and all your feelings (if not yet)... When your words, your talking, your worries, your tears, your feelings, your everything was not enough to make it better... What to do, sit and wait? Sit and cry? Scream for help? Letting go? Roar and strike back? I don't know, but I would like to shift into a different format of internal configuration. These people are making me be against myself. And this hurts and I never forget when I am hurt so deeply. This is why I wish, right now, I could change into an owl and fly to a comfortable tree, watching the night with my big eyes, in silence. In this case, if these people could take away this life I am living would be actually a blessing. But pride will not allow them to kill me. I kill myself first, subjectively. Everything I love is covered by a big dough of pain. Pressing me against the wall. I can see the crawling beings and I identify with them, I can crawl too.
"Yeah, take me to the underworld and I will try not to mind while you rip this little naive virgin out of her clothes and rape her naked out her own disempowering truths. What I hold on so dearly is nothing but who I am, and this very limited experience, I know, in the face of being God - which is everything- is what you are really trying to do. Why do I want to keep this self experience when I can bend over to the many? So you call up some other Gods for a little orgy, while some other penises in the form of ideas try to penetrate my brain. Why is that so? Because of the flow of life that you want me to keep, because no matter what I believe in or what I want for my life, I will only get what I must. And so, you, as the most serious and hidden master of them all, is trying to make me quit all of my childish fears - which are the greatest also, because I don't understand them - by making me confront my old experiences, bringing me new and equally painful ones. I am almost there, I can feel it, the point of not minding anymore. So come, even when I fear, and pick me up from my fields of flowers. It's time."
The jewelry you give me and that I shall wear can't be seen. My award is only for me to know.
A minha combinaçãozinha fofa: escorpião, leão, áries, aquário e virgem. What do I mean by this?
It's always war time.
I am a warrior and I fight for love.
And I kill for love, and I die for love.
And I love and hate love.
"Letting go, telling no, let ego go.
Letting go, telling no, let ego go."
Is that you don´t know how great they are. For instance, take the picture of this blog. It is a great moment, in this present apartment (which I don´t give much to it). This very moment is very precious.
And I am a bird. I have wings, I have feathers and I even had a bird moment sometime back in 2008. I am not an angel, I am not a demon. I am a bird. My heart beats as fast and I fly as high. I´m a Brazilian bird.
Biergarten com amigos ontem, do lado de fora do Berghain. Um cara louco, se achando sedutor (dos quais não se vê por aqui), veio sentar do meu lado querendo puxar assunto enquanto eu comia o meu hamburguer. "- Could you be a little more friendly?" -- him.
"- I am not interested in making new friends". -- me
Estou sendo treinada para aprender a fazer a maligna.
This morning, at about seven o'clock, my drunk neighbor decided he wanted to listen to loud music.
At first, I thought that my roomate had just arrived from his trip because of the voices and noise, then the music got louder and I really woke up to realize what was going on. It's incredible how well you can speak German, even half asleep, when you have hatred in your heart. German language comes out perfect, and you make yourself understood. I said: "- Bitte, es ist einbisschen zu früh, das ist einbisschen zu lout und ich möchte schlafe!!!! Volume aus, bitte." He answered, with his red eyes: "- Sorry, ich verstehe das", and put the volume down, so I could go back to sleep. I am starting to get a grip on how to deal with Germans. (ho ho ho... Evil.)
Last night I had a curious dream. I moved to Germany into a huge atelier, a very interesting artistic WG (shared apartment). There also lived a very curious group of people, they were all artists and very open minded people, very nice and caring people, always in a good mood and with open hearts. These people received me, the new member, very well, with lots of hugs and smiles. One of the women in the group was a very big German guy, with channel blond hair and almost 2m tall, with a very low voice. He wore very sober clothes, but worked keeping company to old, lonely German men, the ones to appreciate what he called "them, the big girls". He was telling the stories about his experiences, while we were all sitting together, sharing, and he said that one way he would trick those men into not showing his tits (because he didn't have any) was carrying a big arsenal of saussages, black bread and mustard with him. When the heat in his business would just increase and those men would be asking for breasts, he would just pause, and say...
"- Yeah, we can do that... Orrrrr... You can take a look at my wonderful collection..." -- And then he would open up his huge bag with all types of sausages and black bread, and the men would go just nuts about it.
Seriously, I dreamed this.
And I thought it was hilarious. German men, Hipnotized by sausages.
The rest of the dream was not so funny. I was looking around the city, trying to look for a piece of furniture to fit in my room, since I didn't have anything or any money, and it was just like Berlin, people would just display their trashy, unwanted items out on the sidewalk and I was looking for nice ones. : /
This lack of money to buy furniture is getting to my deeper roots of mind...
It inspired me to a further understanding: our egos are like assholes. If you touch it, makes it scared and closed. And more... Me and my ex-boyfriend are like two contracted assholes, closed to each other penises, as we tried to intrude each other's business.
"- What are you doing there, don't go there..."
"- I'm just hanging out here, not doing anything special."
"- Hum... Just hanging out here? I don't trust it."
"- Please trust me, so we can have a better time together."
"- Ok, I can try to relax. (...) Hey, wait a minute! What are you doing?! Stop, let's change places."
"-Yeah, ok. Let's do it. But, wait. No... What are YOU doing there? Go away!"
" - Oh, come on! Why is it ok for you but not for me?"
"- This is not working."
"- Yeah. Maybe I should just go."
" - Yeah, maybe."
"- So maybe I will!"
"-Yeah, so do it!"
I want to fly above myself; forget these patterns I am stuck with. I want to be free to love, instead of feeling sick and dying. IF beauty for me is at the tip of a sword, let it touch me. If I have to kiss it 11 times to make it come up for me... Then I will kiss it 93. If this woman body comes for me, I have my tits that I adore and no one will ever have me, because I have wings that change its colors, you see? But I can stay for a while, I can show you how nice I can be. So next time you can show it to me. But it's never for free. I drink from the cup and I wait a little bit, every movement I make is sacred to me... Sometimes and most of the times I forget... How big and important I am and how these things that make me suffer are like flies around my own honey. I am the honey bee. The sting is in me. Please, next time let me die with pleasure.
He is my teenage dream boyfriend. But I hate that he smokes. What I hate the most is that he is not ready. He put me through a hard time, I felt alone, then the group protected him, the women in the group, that are supposed to be my sisters, called me a drama queen for expressing my feelings, and they don't even know me. And how well do they know latin culture, to say "yes, THEY are like this"? To the point that I gave up. (...) Bernadete told me that I have a chance of finding true love because of the constelation that my troubled martial Venus is at, a constelation that is represented by two horses. I will believe this till the day I die. This horse got to be running after me, looking for me as well! I think the sign is that he will be ready for me. Till then, I must have a life. Yesterday, in a Crowley's book I read that Venus in Aries is troubled, especially for women, because although it is brilliant and beautiful (the sparks on the sword of Mars when he goes to war) it loses those pleasurable qualities of Venus. Venus in Aries is the Amazon, a conquerer, not the Goddess of love, and it said that Venus in Aries has very strong and high ideals, and if life does not match those ideals, she becomes a soldier instead of a lover. I almost cried, but I know all this. My ideals have been long broken, as a teenager. He got married to his teenage love. I was cheated and abandoned by mine. I don't believe in eternal love, thanks to this. But do I believe that I can be loved at all? (...) This book reading was before yoga, and I spent a lot of time with this in my mind during the asanas. After the session, I could barely speak. I was very silent inside.
I also don't understand this boy. He seemed to like me better after the session. I didn't know what the look in his eyes meant. I asked, but he didn't answer, but I am sure he wanted to tell me something. Maybe he didn't know it as well. Maybe it is just those ideals once more, coming back in my head, and a hope he would be able to say "stay a little while". We had the same flowing during yoga, we were breathing at the same time, we had the same timing in doing the movements, and the same moods in life, but apparently I am the only one to take notice that we should be working with something, there is something between us to be done, maybe it's not a relationship, it's spiritual. But I am not beating my head against walls anymore; with love, either you feel it or you don't. In the middle there's only sexual attraction and complicated people. So I came back home very happy with my Sexless (my bike, not a boy nor a girl = sexless). I felt freedom. I felt free in spirit, like if I was riding a horse. I love the nightlife, I love the nightime still; its quietness, its fresh heat, its perfums, its colors and possibilities. It is a dreamy atmosphere, and a dark one. : ) And I wished I could be here some other time rather than in my Saturn Return, so I can enjoy it a hundred percent. If there is a good thing about having Venus in Aries is this childish quality of finding fun alone and in every aspect of life.
This is Indy. We called him Dedeco. He died yesterday evening. How old was he? Maybe 16 years old. I wish I could say he was a happy dog. But he's been blind and deaf for the past few years, he couldn't chew well because he lost some teeth and he had no space, he was living locked in the kitchen. We decided to keep him there after he went deaf and blind, because he was hitting the doorways of the house and doing his business in the wrong places. When he was a healthy dog, he also used to do his business in the wrong places, so the house has been (for at least good 8 years) smelling like dog pee. He used to cry a lot in the middle of the night, upseting us and our neighbors and with an unbelievable volume for a dog, really really high and when he was little, my mom dropped for two times a can of beans on his head. Lots of the events in the house surrounded this dog. My father left us when he used Indy's towel after shower, to become dry. We thought it was funny, but he was so pissed that he decided to move out. This was, of course, just the last drop. (...) Dedeco was going to be put to sleep this Thursday, and the Gods know for how long my mom has been struggling with this idea. When she finally decided to do it, he passed away a day before. Better this way. Still I feel sad, I wish I was there to kiss him goodbye and to be beside my family, because it is a big change in times. Farewell, Dedequinho. Schlaf gut.
Lost in the ocean of my fantasies, reality today came to surface when I was expecting some kind of written text that didn't come, from my best friend in our adult-childhood. I was expecting him to say how nice our weekend was and how happy he felt for being close to me again, hoping also that there could be a light in the end of the tunnel for us and, maybe, a second chance from life in the future.
Although my reality is most likely to be moistured with listening to music and singing out loud while I bike ride across Berlin (one hour to go to school, another hour to come back. It made me proud that I didn't get lost, so the directions I wrote in my notebook worked. Hail google maps, and I thank the Gods that the internet was working./ No glamour at all, I did it to save money and to increase endorphins), I know I have to be pacient with my life now and with everything that happens... And that my expectations die getting in touch with the reality of it.
First, I was proud to start the week with a ritualistically cleaned kitchen, a shinning white stove, no food stains on the kitchen floor anymore, no greese, no more disgusting black woden shelves, and a place for everything, to the sound of Dead Can Dance, all the albuns you can imagine. But the fridge is empty again, and this, plus the fact that yesterday, when my cute little friend from my adult-childhood left he took my life with him -- that was the feeling -- I didn't know what to do, so I sit and cried, and felt despair growing, as I cried louder. "My best friend is gone", and it was like a child, crying because the party was over. "What's gonna happen now?" was the question, and all the things that connect me to him are just huge monsters from childhood dreams and fears... I feel incredibly good when he is around, but everytime he leaves I just feel life and hope drifting away, and why? For me, we are like children that enjoy to be around each other and like to kiss and play together, but if he wanted to share his toys with some other friends I would be so mad. And sometimes, in our life together, it was like he had all the toys and that I had to ask him if he would please lend me some. Today I have to think that either he didn't get in touch not to provoke undesired feelings (like the ones I am already having despite of anything -- the amazing rational German mind; not so amazing cold blood) or that his feelings are really over, which seems weird for the feelings we shared together last weekend. So, maybe we can go out to another playground some time in the future and I would really appreciate that, but I know I have to keep my life open and to entertain myself with the surroundings in order to forget that I go crazy about ALL my best friends.
Today I realized something very serious about myself, which is too embarrassing to write down here. I don't know what to do with that information now. Then I reliazed I was having fun at my German class because I laughed for five minutes non stop when the teacher begun teaching the declination for the adjectives only in the Nominativ form and after class me and some other classmates went out for lunch. First I had a lasagna, then I had a stomachache. Then I went to a caffee to meet up with a friend to give him back some stuff I had from him and we drank some white wine with Mineralisches Wasser, while discussing about our lives. We went on to have a burger and a beer. Then I left, but it was eleven already. Yes, in the night. The sun was not completely set yet. Can't you believe this?! Then I took the Tram to where the U-Bahn was supposed to be, and then I realized I would have to catch a bus to the closest U-Bahn station. I was in the Bus stop tonight, waiting, when a guy approached me -- I think because of my bagpack full of hearts, which later on he said it was very sweet -- and somewhere in the middle of showing me the new hat he had gotten because the only one he had belonged to his grandparent because his head was too big and he couldn't find any hats that would fit and showing me the strawberry tee he got for his girlfriend, he told me to listen to this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5X-yqPhItr8
And when I arrived home and I was listening to it, a friend of mine had left a message telling me that a hurricane called Alex is about to hit Mexico and USA, and that she was reminded of me, which is very funny, specially hearing "Hier kommt Alex".
... I think Berlin wants me.
Last weekend, I went to a concert of a friend of mine which happens to be a guitar player and, after the show, he invited me to join the band to another city called Stuttgart. And I did. (...) No toothbrushes, no towels or extra clothes, and I had only five euros on my pockets. That was very funny. Seven hours trip by car from Berlin on a Saturday, plus seven hours more coming back on the following Sunday. And oh, how I love to hit the road. There is nothing better to heal a wounded heart than hitting the road. At least for me. And we went on listening to music, reggae, progressive house, singing, laughing, drinking, all those things the Gods wants us to do (and we don't because we forget how life is magickal stucked in our own small worlds).
Still I miss cutie, but I don't think he would have liked any of this.
I discovered love and care in unexpected people. I discovered fun in hidden places. I am able to smile again. So I have a broken heart... Ich Fenchel Tee jeden Tag trinken... And smell the flowers that are plenty and beautiful here in Berlin. I sing songs and try to remember what I JUST learned. I know my German is bad, but I try. Damm hot Brazzzzilian Blut, doesn't match Deutsch. But we are so attractive to each other! Charming and full of life, explosive and red. I know I wish I could turn back time, but even if I could, I wouldn't know how to make things differently. So Cutie is no longer available; makes me sad. We fucking broke each others' head. I go aroung the world losing pieces of myself. "What am I doing here?" now, I ask myself. (One less arm, one less finger, three thousand less friends. I had to discover Hope in something else. Again. Vida, morte, vida. Again and again. Amenti.) People are starting to ask me that too. But I used to ask that back home as well. Maybe, just maybe, since everything changed so quickly for the worse, maybe it will turn back quickly for the best. That's what I hope, if not quickly, on the exact time that is supposed to be. The things that are supposed to be hurt me and I fight against them. So, you were right about this.
(Angelfish - You can love her; King of the World; From Heartbreak to Hate; Sleep with me)
["Some things are did and buried, some things just carry on like you. (...) Some things are did and buried, some things are did and gone, but you... stay with me. You'll never leave, carry on... (...) How long? How long can we carry on? Stay with me, sleep with me, dream with me..."]
This blog is for people that listen to echos. Sit and drink with me and be welcome. Music soothes the soul. Shirley Manson gave me power last night, me and a cup of brandy. I went through it all... This is not my idea (Das ist nicht meine idee auf ein gut Zeit??? hahahahaha), As heaven is wide, Trip my wire. Nirvana took me to the last level with Dumb, Pennyroyal Tee and Rape Me. This morning is time for Sneaker Pimps with Becoming X, which actually fits like a glove, specially my dear one for all times of sorrow and feeling hurt... Spin, Spin Sugar! Like the monkey from Brazil was serving German guys, so cute, so hot, so willing to do everything right, to be friends, to be nice; that indian blood in my veins screAming "don't go there". But I had to; part of me is a cat, curious. I still have eight lives to go. If we do not collect the one or two pearls from each painful experience, then is really just a bunch of shit. So, I go for the pearls. Yes, I try to teach a bit, but not in the traditional ways. I am more like an exploratory teacher: I like sharing. Give me yours and I will give you mine. Don't suck it all out of me and keep yours, because then I become very angry and I will sing Trip my Wire again, to you, to him, to everyone. The live version. But my main position is the one of the student. And my favorite asana is Vrishika. I like sharing, not competing. Shoulder to shoulder, no one above, no one below. Feet to the head, spine curved, eyes up to sky. "I breath you in..."
My little heart, after intense experiences of pain can see what's beyond this human life, beyond the strong forces of the ego. The scorpio ego wants to possess, it wants it all, again, more, deeper, stronger, heavier. More. When it's good and when it's bad, it needs to go to the last drop. After I had a few last drops, I can say what happened to me, otherwise this blog will be what has always been, and I am up for change -- a place where I use to drop my loads when the emotional pressure was too high. Now I think I can start sharing the next steps.
Always after an intense experience of pain I see the light. It's the up part of my "downs". This might be the repeating pattern of scorpio, this need to go through all the process everytime, feel everything, first you have something you really like, then you fear the loss of it until you do lose -- and then, because it hurt so much, you are able to let go AND after letting go, you are free. Today the sun is shining, and it also comes from the inside. I understand one change in the pattern. The pattern of relatioships still exist, this is from the karma, I think it's not up for me to change it -- so maybe I can stop fighting and feeling hurt about the patterns and just accept them. But how I deal and how I feel about the patterns is changing. Today, and it's like this for a while, after a breakup I no longer hate them. No, I don't. I love them. I still love them. I bless them, I want them to be in my heart, and I send love. Avoiding the pain is avoiding life, and anyone should throw themselves to life, to its open jaws and let it be chewed by it, with passion. You cannot avoid the pain of seeing things and people how they really are, this is a blessing (and sometimes a curse). To know life and people as they are and not as they show themselves. The voice I heard yesterday that brought me silence and peace of mind was the voice of my heart. From all the voices inside my head, this is the one I must always listen. Not listen to the voice of anger, not listen to the voice of fear of loss, not listen to the voice of rejection. And listening to the voice of my heart brought rewards. Peace of mind. Certainty. Comprehension of the flows, coming and going of the universe. So this present experience was essential for me to notice this completely. There is sadness, but I gained myself, one step further. People that are too afraid to share and too afraid to welcome me are not of my interest. A scorpio, a sun and a rose. Mine are still beautiful. I never saw roses last more than a week. These are from the Venus ritual. I am coming home.
The mosquitos gather curious above my head, while I sing in the park. What is this different vibration that changes the air? They want to know, and they don't even think. I wonder if relatioships are already bad, how would it be between two heroin addicts? Curt and Courtney's life, a life of horror, I would say. I think I would like to know what is this change in the skies, what is this breeze that brought the end to mine. A cold sharp breeze in the middle of the night. In the morning, a warm and dry one. If he was here, he would be ashamed of me. If he could, he would live under a rock, pretending he didn't exist and asking the world to do the same. Incredible how many times in two months he felt ashamed of me. It's like I am a constant erection, hangin outside the trousers. In the first three weeks he would critisize me all the time; then I said this didn't feel good, then he kept on doing it, but only on his mind. I didn't have the force to cry, astonished. Dreams of horror I had too; he was cutting his wrists, with blood all over the face. Noises in my room made me awake; plus astonishment, plus anger, plus a big interrogation mark on my forhead. Is it really over? I think it is. It feels like it is inside of me. There is nothing left between us; maybe just a towel and a pair of shoes. When I slept, bad dreams. I was pregnant and very scared in one of them, scared I would have to go to the maternity room alone, that my baby was coming into this world and my love was nowhere to be found, and I told a friend... "I am so scared, so scared of this like you don't know how". I think secret forces worked to break us apart. Nobody wanted us together. Maybe this is supposed to be, maybe all that happens is supposed to be for the better, even if we cannot see it immediately. And this was what the voice inside of my heart was telling me. "You think you don't have any luck, but we are watching you. This is exactly the way it is supposed to be", I listened. So, if this was not caused only by the negative cheering, it was my angels whispering to me... Secretly. I do not enjoy to be treated politically by people, and I never felt welcome there. He chose the State over us. He climbed over me to raise his flag, to go up in his carreer and be admired by his friends. Well, this choice will bring him his time of the month. I am having mine now. I feel a little cheated and a bit used, for all those plans he had he never told me about before they happened. I was a trial of some kind or in some kind of trial. He was never open to me, he was never honest and never ready. He gave me confusing signs and now it's enough with "he, he, he", wasting my energy on this, now it's time to turn the focus over to me (Ever to me!) again. I feel very sad, but a little relieved. I was playing fair. And I can only listen to the voice of my heart. I'm glad that sometimes I do.
This is a day in solitude. You would think it is a great thing. Someone whispered somewhere I take life too seriously. All I want to do right now is to eat a chocolate muffin that is not mine and that is set over the kitchen table. Very serious issue. Oh, and I also want to die, but since death is not a thing to be found in the supermarket (or else I would love to pick it up from the shelves -- How I want death today? Frozen or fried?) I am looking for it in people I meet. Everyone has a mark of death on themselves. Everytime I get too close to see it, I die a little too. Everytime someone touches me, I feel the cold of death. But I know, it's only cold because this body is so warm and it wants so much; once life has vanished away, death will be such a nice place to be, so cozy, so comfy, just like a room entirely painted black, when you really feel like sleeping and there are no sounds outside. A perfect match, because you are not hungry, you do not need to pee and you do not need to see or speak to anyone. Oh, and you don't have all the demands of the games of conscience brought by dreams, you can just escape into infinity. You don't have to love anyone anymore, not even need to face the demand of loving yourself. If I could sell death, I would be a very successful person.
Come on, baby... My body is free to be fulfilled by you, if this is the only love that we can have, if now the serpent screams... Then mote it be, let it spit into the graal. Day after day will come until my world ends. I hope it comes soon, because the pain is huge. Why are you afraid of I love you? Is I love you a chain that helds your soul in the depth of your emotional ocean? And why I have to be so intense in order to get a little attention from you... A little attention, remembrance that I AM HERE and there is no GOD where I AM. You will suffer that, I will suffer many times more.
Are our fears so great that it can toss our love away, just like that, from night to day, scared of being hurt? The way you were locked inside of yourself, outside of your mind while we waited for the train was more than I could handle; when the train came I was under it, and baby... It hurt me. I don't know what to do with this body now. I am no one, I am nothing. I am not even yours.
One of these days my heart got broken. When I fell, it was instantly made into pieces. I glued them together, but now the glue is gone and I don't know where to get me some more. Before, it was glued by the rays of the sun, it made me sweat and my heart melted. My heart doesn't melt anymore. The tears made my heart crystal clear. Now all I have is the blue of his eyes, and he doesn't like that. They say your father is supposed to love you, but this is not our story... And now I am afraid to bring a child into this world because of that father figure: distant, absent, cold; uncaring. I asked for a sign the other day at the park and then I saw one single little daisy in the middle of the field, she was laying down, kind of shy, just like me. I wanted to pick her up to know if he loved me or if he loved me not, but I didn't want to kill her for my own selfish reasons, so I just thought about our late relatioship and just decided that he loves me not.
Things that fix me on the inside: smells, sounds, tastes and visions. Fenchel Tee und Tori Amos. Spending extra five euros that I shouldn't spend on extra pillows at Ikea to make me feel more comfortable in bed... Small details like observing the quick and cute movement of birds and the how the flowers blossom together in the trees during Spring here in Europe. The different colors of leafs in the trees in Rio... Things I learned by myself to make my life a little more interesting; an attempt to leave the center and to expand my outlines. A chance to grow bigger than my body allows me to. Literature does this to quite a few people. Music does this to quite a lot of them. Then, if the idea of a "heaven" makes some people feel like they live better, if drugs make some others feel like they found meaning and purpose in life, if sports also do this, how can I be against any of these stuff? If I believe in freedom, if I believe in the power of choice of the human being, how can I say "What I do is right and what you do is not"? (...) Still, when it comes to close relationships, I sink.
And so I think I may pick the ones that I feel better together with, and leave others aside, but knowing they exist and (the difficult part) respecting the different choices. Still, I feel I am part of a group of people that are nowhere to be found, because they are everywhere and can't be seen.
Pegou a maçã da árvore, mas poderia ser da prateleira do mercado, e sentou-se embaixo da copa, à sombra, mas que também poderia ser a copa da cozinha. Observou o horizonte a sua frente; um lindo horizonte flamejante, ao longe, o sol queimando a grama verde. O quadro pousado na parede do corredor, fora da cozinha, o horizonte poderia ser o que está compreendido entre a moldura da janela. Mas ela estava ao ar livre, sentada embaixo da copa da árvore, à sombra, observando o sol queimar a grama verde no seu horizonte flamejante. Uma manada de cavalos selvagens passou galopando, fazendo tremer o solo. A vizinha de cima passa aspirador na casa; os carros passam e buzinam violentamente; os vizinhos batem os pés ao subir as escadas de madeira. Sonhava com outro mundo que desconhecia essa mulher, essa mulher livre. Mordeu a maçã e sentiu-se saudável; sentiu o suco descer pela garganta, uma gota escorrer pelo canto da boca, rolando pelo pescoço. Sentiu-se selvagem, desejável, doce... Foi sendo levada pelo sabor da maçã e mesclando-se com ele. Sentiu-se selvagem e foi correr com os cavalos. Os cavalos estavam dentro dela, eram vida da cintura para baixo, junto com a maçã, junto com tudo mais acumulado pela vida e ela agora rolava na grama verde, e confundia a grama com os próprios pêlos púbicos; acariciava a grama e sentia-se maçã, sentia-se nuvem, sentia-se toda Terra molhada e chuva. Sonhava com o dia de ser engolida por ela.
There is a pressure inside of my chest for over an year. Sometimes it hurts for no reason. Sometimes I stick my fingers in there just to know what is in there, and then I remember... Scars. I don't want to feel those pains ever again, but sometimes I just forget it was for my insane acts or sloppy decisions that they are what they are. They fall asleep and then I forget as well and dream I can be happy anytime soon, awating anxiously for the next time, hoping I'll be able to do right this time. It never worked. I accept not defeat, but knowledge that they will always be there, and that there is nothing I can do to remove them, but I can kiss them, kiss them and caress them from time to time. They made me what I am, afterall. I made them and they made me. To the infinite of Nuit, a million stars created, one for each flawed promise of union and love.
The moon says, girl you need to hide. The sun says that I need to act in accordance with my heart. The moons says, girl, you need to squeeze your heart, dont walk out the line even for one second. The sun says I need to be spontaneous. The moon says that I bleed and that it wont stop anytime soon enough. The sun reminds me that when it does stop, it will be a different lifetime, a different season. The moon curses my moods and cycles. The sun reminds me that time passes by, ever bringing a new day. The moon is always showing my face, pointing fingers and telling me that I am ugly. The sun, in secret, tells me that that is beauty and that only I should know of it, not to fear. I walk over stones, the moon is very sandy and the climate here is so dry, but I am home. It is so cold, and so my sun struggles to survive. It watches the moon very proudly because she knows she is stronger. But the male voice of the moon is louder.
It is difficult for me to understand that a day spent playing the guitar has been a day of work, of writing down songs, of trying new things, new patterns, new vocal melody lines, etc. It feels like I havent been doing anything at all, it feels like I have been trapped in my own world, my own shell, my own room. It feels that I am not really working when I stop to think of myself and of my life, and in my general (and defective) relationships with people -- and that all this leads to music. The blisters I got from playing for hours -- that I didnt notice passing by -- are not proof of my effort, they just show me how I should be playing more and more to be able to play for hours without getting blisters. I never give myself a moment to rest.
And music is an escape to freedom, because it sets my fears free, it sets my trapped soul and my trapped feelings free. And not because I sing about my life, but exactly because my music is bigger than me, it is better than me, it changes me and it teaches me, so it brings me room to grow.
But the question I ask myself is: should I go alone? Is this something that is supposed to be kept in secret, like all the rest in my life seems to have the need to be kept in secret? Because when you show yourself it is almost always a hurtful experience: you are not wanted, you are not needed, you are not welcome, you are not what you think you are. Is my music something I do for myself, or should I keep trying to show it in the hope that it will do the same to other people what it does to me?
The eggs are hard probably for boiling too long in the water. This is breakfast. Waiting. Years have passed and mistakes haven t. Time is taking too long to encounter me, I run so fast. Learnings. Relationships have always been my private hell and heaven. Yearning. Love was always present, even though in a twisted way. One way relationships, thousands of made up love stories: I found love in trees and leaves. Mirrors. I also love myself when I look at me. I love dressing up and undressing only for me. Never for others.
It s too easy for me to walk all over myself. It s too easy attracting people that would do the same. Shame; more like a shyness that isn t supposed to happen. (Things to expect from a Brazilian-singer). The things that aren t supposed to happen but do are what we call (life). And the things that are supposed to happen but don t are called (dreams). I like all forms, including squares. Where do I fit, though? What is my format? Do I look like a guitar or a pear? Do I sing like a mermaid, do I look like a saint or a devil? Can I be everything, I mean everything? Not, when someone tells me I dress up like Avril Lavigne. Fire. Can you feel me burning? That is what makes me shake, so when you think Im uptight, Im actually burning up and shaking, in the middle of my legs, but I cant tell you this, especially you, because above all people you wouldn t appreciate that. You are afraid of that little secret of mine. Spiders and swords. No cards for spiders, only webs. So while you play your little games, I spin my web, sliding along with my short legs. Such little person so big in the soul, so heavy in breathing, so anxious in the heart is about to explode. Seeds of different types, that is my Brazilian generosity for the world.
I am not the next big hit, I only sing for friends and mosquitos.
My love is not great and I'm not good in bed because I can't turn a bad guy in sex into a good one, and I am pretty "forgettable". If you want to learn how to get over something, become my boyfriend, they always do this really quickly. My next pick up line is "Yes, I am Brazilian and yes, I do have a huge cock, but I'm not good in bed, so forget it."
I am not flawless and I show my sore points to the world, even when people don't really want to see them. Want to see them?
I could never tell a good joke, I always laugh endlessly before I finish. I'm sick, but people tell me that what I really am is crazy. Well, I obviously don't agree.
Yes, I am from Rio, but Carnival is not the hottest event of the year, it is actually a pain in the ass and I don't have a tan. Actually, I am pretty god damn white and I don't listen to Bossa-nova. I am not a girl from Ipanema, I am from Tijuca (there is life beyond the twin tunnels. people!)
Fuck the beach, the water is poluted anyway. Turists, stop throwing garbage on the floor! (And/or making real state business, this city is crowded! Have you seen the favelas? It's not worthy your million bucks.)
I don't enjoy 40 degrees Celsius. Try to steel a stick or a bug from the Amazon, and you will know my rage. Try to harm any more animals, and I'll show you my teeth, but I don't really care for people because I believe in karma. I am always dramatic. I let my hair grow all over in Europe, but I was so glad to become a Brazilian again, when a Brazilian girl offered to wax me. Hurray! I always call first. I always take the initiative. I hate when I do that. I hate myself a lot. I never know what to do. I take too long in the shower and to get dressed when everyone is waiting for me. I don't smoke but all my friends do and I get sick a lot. I have to open all the windows and freeze everyone's asses. I hate my friends a lot as well, but I hate my ex boyfriends more, although I know it is my problem to be immediately attracted to trouble. I just know everyone hates me. The hate for me is a round circle, that is a magickal path. It is my tail that bites me, not the opposite. I always die when I kill, how lame is that? I can't really be mean to people, how lame is that?
I am just about anyone, just a little bit stronger, like a punch in your coffee (or stomach). And I don't look as good as I think in my cute little outfits.