unveiled behaviors

There's no such thing as knowledge - just unawareness. Voluntary  unawareness.

Sci-fi lullabies

or how I relearned to stop worrying and love the bomb

Lettre du voyant

"I say that one must be a seer, make oneself a seer. The poet makes himself a seer by a long, prodigious, and rational disordering of all the senses. Every form of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he consumes all the poisons in him, and keeps only their quintessences. This is an unspeakable torture during which he needs all his faith and superhuman strength, and during which he becomes the great patient, the great criminal, the great accursed – and the great learned one! – among men. – For he arrives at the unknown! Because he has cultivated his own soul – which was rich to begin with – more than any other man! He reaches the unknown; and even if, crazed, he ends up by losing the understanding of his visions, at least he has seen them! Let him die charging through those unutterable, unnameable things: other horrible workers will come; they will begin from the horizons where he has succumbed!"

 Arthur Rimbaud

The graspable has vanished.

My eyes are now set upon the infinite horizon.

question mark [?]

Wouldn't it be great if for a single moment we could, in the deepest of solitudes, see our life from above, from heaven, from birth to death, concentrated in a single image? And by doing so, knowing what to do and when, without having to have faith in this or that, something or someone, in one or another idea? To simply KNOW, sparing us all to this ridiculous effort that we put ourselves into?

I want to take my pleasures where and how I will

(...)

And without warning when we’re almost at the top
The wheel that turns us all comes to a sudden stop.
The wind that’s blown us dies a quick and painless death
The air gets clammy and we hold each other’s breath
We get the feeling that we’re not alone in this
And then a God who really ought not to exist
Sticks out a great big hand
And grabs me by the wrist
And asks me "why? " and I say
"well god, it’s like this
It may be arrogance
Or just appalling taste
But I’d rather use my pain than let it all go to waste
On some old God who tells me what I want to hear
As if I cannot tell obedience from fear
I want to take my pleasures where and how I will,
Be they disgraceful or distasteful or distilled
And to be frank I find that life has more appeal
Without a driver who’s asleep behind the wheel"

Then God decides that he has taken quite enough
Of all this atheistic tosh I’m spouting off
And so he calls upon his favourite angel choir
To sing of times when men were filled with christian fire
But over-zealous angels flap their wings too fast
And cause the wind to blow and turn the wheel at last
And soon my feet are safely back on solid ground
And then I hear a voice say
"don’t look down!".

[the divine comedy | don't look down | Promenade | 1994] 

Left my name with the border guards

Arcade Fire | Black wave/Bad Vibrations | 2007

...a name that I don't need.
Ce sera un long voyage
sur les vagues de l'oubli.


 

Obstacle 1

Obstacle 1 - Language.

Obstacle 1 | Interpol | 2002

Somewhere along the way I've forgot that each word and expression that I had, in my own native language, were my own and nobody's else. I forgot it took me over ten years to develop it. It was still growing. And suddenly you find your brain inside four concrete walls. You realize language is nothing more than a tool to your thoughts and currently I've lost a great bunch of tools. Without the number of tools I was used to, my thought cannot translate into words and sentences in the same variety they used to. So I feel dumb. Imprisoned inside my own skull. Even now I'm not sure about what I'm writing, there's always this fear present deep inside cause you can't feel confident enough with these rusty tools that someday, someone, taught you how to use. I haven't got the time to fully experiment them yet. Mistakes are expected in a large scale. I'm constantly embarrassed. It's like I'm a 6 year old kid again, back to school and learning how to properly wright down a sentence. And I thought it would be easy... It's quite a challenge, one I'm happy to take on.

não mordas

Não mates

não mordas

não arranhes

não comas

não tenhas relações sexuais,

não te olhes ao espelho, de manhã, depois de acordares, de te espreguiçares, simplesmente não olhes:

Deus é grande e chega para todos.

No planeta do senhor é tudo limpo, puro e belo. Os cus no território de sua divindade não fazem merda, são cagueiros-sabonete, perfumam o sítio.

Falta amor ao fertilizante número um no mundo.

Pena é não sermos apenas, simplesmente.

Nós mesmos.

Cristo morre de uma vez por todas e deixa-me em PAZ

Quarto

O nível de arrumação de um quarto é directamente proporcional ao nível de optimismo e autocontrole do ser proprietário do mesmo. Excepção feita aos que o fazem porque tem mesmo de fazer, como os tropas ou as meninas e meninos da mamã. Estes tem quem os controle.

untitled 1

Subi as escadas com vagar e perguntei ao degrau porque opta todos os dias pelo mesmo lugar na estratosfera.