i have not been listening

yes i am not listening, and lots of times it really does look like i don't give half a hoot to even bother listening, and then you never really know. but here is the feedback that i have been getting.

when it comes to rolling and falling in aikido, a gentle soul not too long ago took me in her arms and said that i ought to treat myself  more gently. my conclusion is that i am a bit uptight.

my legalbrains friend claims that i am a bit uptight when it comes to my sex life. no comment, it is one man's opinion.

my adored aikido sensei yesterday commented on my lack of dosage as tori.

my therapist says that i drive myself very hard.

the universe out there is screaming at me: relax you silly idiot!

am i listening?

Technorati Tags: fluage

from vietnam with love

"only minds on the boundary between insanity and what we may call common peut amener les étincelles de l'évolution"

not too many people can manage the fine art of being bilingual in one sentence, this friend of mine actually did it. thanks!

Technorati Tags: fluage

coming out of the closet or the end of a sad story

in all truth what i feel like doing this morning is to rearrange the berne pied-a-terre because i am starting to become increasingly frustrated with how little natural light there is in my office, and feel like it would be better to move it to the front room, and relegate the business of sleeping to the back room. yes, the place is this small. the fact that the closet space where my clothes hang is in the front room is mildly annoying, but then. why not leave them where they are? do the clothes have to come out of the closet?

perhaps rearranging the furniture is not what is begging to be done right now.

it is sunday and my brother gives me a call early in the morning, he claims to not be feeling well. in my state of not quite yet awake, i ask him what is the matter, and he goes on and rambles off something or other about gauss's theorem. i love mathematics, i love physics, but for crying out loud, why do i have to deal with gauss's theorem on an empty stomach?

while my brother's struggle and worries are real, i can not but prevent the thought that i wish that all my troubles were to have forgotten about gauss, his theorem, or anything to do with mathematical physics. in our last call we had just discussed his discovery of line integrals...

but what troubles do i have?

let me count the ways, not. it was a rough summer, and it was a good summer. the kitchen sink got unclogged, and all the backed up garbage got regurgitated right on to my face. it has not been a pretty sight, and it feels wonderful to get rid of so much doubt, frustration, and plain suffering.

perhaps i have yet to find out why i am such a damned altruist, but what i have found out is that i once was seven years old, and that my instinct served me like god could never have dreamt of serving me, it protected me from  abuse. the other nasty fact here is that although having escaped major physical abuse, i did not escape the psychological trauma of the situation. it is easy to look at my life and admire the wonder of it all, and see nothing other that some wonderful academic laurels, a pretty face, and a young looking slim body. freud here or there, once again, a silly dead man, but the ego, the id, and the superego seem all rather useless in trying to somehow just come to terms with what is an old and deep psychological injury. it is a bit like a fractured bone that never healed properly, you limp along, you also get places, but hell... it gets only worse with time, not better, it hurts, each day it hurts more, you get used to the pain, you think it is normal, and then one day it gives to the strain, it breaks again, and then you can not walk at all.  in unclogging my proverbial kitchen sink this summer, i re-broke the bone, now i am trying to mend it all together so that i can again walk straight, or answer the question of what it is that i want and go on to achieving it.

i got another call this afternoon, one that i had much looked forward to, and i found my mind too preoccupied to do the other due justice in listening. the other was preceptive enough to, in my tone of voice, discover a certain reserve. it is true, it is there. he asks what it is that i am doing this week, and i know what i need to do, and i do not feel like doing any of it. first i have to screw together that re-broken bone that was first broken when i was seven years old.

at  the ripe young age of 48 she finally decides that she wants to settle down, and make no compromises on the way. this whole exercise of considering the possibility that perhaps i have a choice, is being more of a challenge than i had expected it to be. i suppose that i am not quite as cool as some of the characters that i create in my fiction. in the process i end up having to face the question of "what do I want?" and frankly i have never had much of an answer. i am discovering aspects of my being that i had no clue were there, and that sometimes I wish were not there.  sometimes I think that psychology and trauma is the sort of thing that others deal with, and that I somehow can run away from it all. somewhere along the line I decided that I needed to be perfect, the reality is however that I am damned human and full of imperfections. i personally do not have a problem with my own shortcomings and handicaps all so natural to being human, but rarely have i found another human being capable to live, really live and accept, not just tolerate, my ways.

i know my dreams, but i do not know that person with those dreams. it is somebody whom, just to survive, i have not given much space at all. i am a woman whom i do not know. until just a few weeks ago i was a seven year old girl looking for shelter and protection. born with only one endowment, a faculty for critical thought, i stand here naked.

naked i am, and since last thursday i decided that i want to live, really live, not just survive and get by, and struggle on the plane of unconscientiousness. when is it that one knows that one has taken the decision to live, and to do so responsibly?

i do not know about your answer, i know about mine. two years ago in a moment of total emotional confusion, i took action contrary to my values, i had unprotected intercourse with someone without knowing either his sexual habits nor the status of his HIV test, if any. clearly knowledge and intelligence offer very little protection, still my total inconsequent behavior left me wondering what was going on inside my head. i can rationalize my actions, or weakness, on that moment two years ago with all sorts of good arguments about the fact that he must care about his health too. but how can i be certain of that? but shit, it is my life! do i have a secret death wish that i have not yet dealt with? if you ask me, yes, that is what i must have been walking around with for the past two years or so. for the past couple of years i have been walking around with a death wish wrapped up in a beautiful smile and articulate speech. welcome to my reality!

in trying to mend my very broken self-esteem, that bone so badly mangled as a seven year old, i decided that it was time to ask myself the question of who am i. who am i?

i know that i am honest, courteous, benevolent, loyal, courageous, honorable, but where on earth has my integrity been?

because of the various contact sports that i have practiced for over ten years, i "used" to regularly take an HIV test and practice the required hygiene to keep them negative. my last test was in the year 2000, and since then some unhealthy inconsequence in my hygienic practices had been lurking in. this is rather basic hygiene, like taking care of one's feet and avoiding mycoses, it is all about physical hygiene, and it seems that without a good healthy doses of psychological hygiene that i call egoism, it is not possible to maintain integrity. when last thursday during the 15 minutes it took the test to reveal the result, i was very present to what a fact is, what my life is worth, and that i really want that test to be negative. it was. my life is worth nothing, i want to live, i got books to write, i have love to share, and i want to die spent, loved, and in integrity with my being. a fact is not an argument, it is not conjecture, it is not inference, it is not a wish. a fact is just that, plainly so, the test was negative and in the past four months i have been back to safe hygienic practices.

it is not always as binary as with that test. however it is easy to walk around with a death wish when all a being remembers of growing up are messages that it interprets as it having no right to being alive. it is merely there and tolerated, but it would please just shut up, in case it ever has anything to say. should the being have dreams and share them, then it gets told how utterly ridiculous the dreams are, and that dreams are not important. the girl loves a part of her family and the other part tells her that they are bad and criminal. she knows them both, and abuse she has only experienced on the side that accuses, not on the side of the accused. she wonders how that can be. she identifies with the figure head of the criminals, her paternal grandfather, at his funeral she feels the pain of having lived so long away from him, and to have had so few occasions to talk to him.  he had been one who had listened to her dreams, he listened and he had given those dreams a right to be.

my muse, do you understand fluage now?

rearranging the furniture is going to have to wait, i am too busy screwing together my broken bones.

Technorati Tags: abuse, alone, choice, fact, fluage, freedom, fuzzy, integrity, jihad, life, results, words

sometimes i need a bit of wisdom, and to forget all

Dilbert.com - The Official Dilbert Website by Scott Adams - Dilbert, Dogbert and Coworkers!:

Technorati Tags: abuse

now

i am right back where i started from.

what is more important: satisfying one thousand desires or conquering just one?

from the nalin pan's film "samsara"

i do not know.

Technorati Tags: fluage

the past week

let me start with yesterday. it was past 16:00 and i was due at a friend's birthday party about an hour away. i had just walked out of lorenzini's where i had had an expresso, dug myself through the local press and wrote some notes to myself. i turn the corner in direction of the pied-a-terre and bump into an old friend that i had not seen in a while, and we headed together into the next door café, the "dudu", for yet another little refreshment and catching up with what has been going on. it is always delightful to kiss a man who wears cologne or some good after shave, and this dandy friend of mine always smells good. i asked him about his dogs, he asked me about my son. his career has moved in a good direction, he spends a lot of time at the UN mission in NYC on official business. he is also a colleague of a man who has greatly inspired me, and who today still hates my guts, but that is a totally different story and one reason why i have not taken much initiative in contacting this friend of mine. my dandy friend and i share a great deal in terms of political interests, he however being part of the swiss administration, is not at liberty to take active part in politics. still my swiss dandy friend and i share a bit more, he was born in a portuguese colony, we both speak portuguese, and we have gone through silly divorces. besides sharing a lot, we are also like day and night in other issues, although we both have a preference for blondes; neither of us is blond.
it is great to have the chance to catch up with somebody whom you like but also with whom there is no entanglement of conflicts of interest. i asked him a bit about his personal life, that is, his love life, and he did the same to me. i cherished his confession to the casual love affairs between diplomats in service. you meet at various conferences, then your foreign office sends you elsewhere or gives you another dossier, and another affair starts elsewhere with somebody else; it gives you some immediate comfort, but it is not sufficient to start a family and that he regrets.

then i finally arrived at my friend's birthday party in the bernese highlands when all were already sitting down to dinner. this friend of mine is an information technology specialist, so are many of his friends, and two of his brothers. i sat at a table where i did not know any of the others, and vice versa, and found myself being interviewed about what i do, which in turn turned into  one very animated conversation about literature. of course geeks also know quite a bit about literature, and in addition there was another non IT person at the table, a latin teacher. i returned home content that i did not cancel my attendance at this party, something to which i had given more consideration than you can imagine.

here i walk around and wonder what my muse knows that i do not know, and deeply amused by the fact that i have been kissed by my muse, as somebody pointed out on friday. there is this feeling that has invaded me since wednesday. i spent wednesday afternoon with a man whom i never imagined meeting, much less liking, and certainly never dreamt that i would so quickly feel so understood by. i keep shaking my head, and telling myself that this is impossible, and that if it were to be possible, what on earth am i doing falling in love all over again. the comforting thought that i get is that the thing with falling in love is damn old with me, i have been falling in love for as long as i can remember, i fall in love with a stone, with a river, with a sparrow, with nothing at all, i just am in love with life. still, under all of this there is a woman, and this woman is somewhat foreign to me, this woman has been hiding for a long long time, and then on wednesday for some odd reason this woman was fully present. now i wonder what happened.

as i am writing this a friend rang me up from paris and she asks if she just dragged me out of bed with some fellow, i had to laugh, here i am in my pajamas with my flannel bathrobe thrown over, at my desk writing on some blog and trying to collect my thoughts about a week past. she is in deadline stress, her editor is asking for a date as to when her manuscript will be finished, and no this is not the sort of thing that writers like. deadlines are depressive, irritating, and feel like a kick in the ass, much hated, and somewhat effective. she just came back from london, loves london, but then i know few people who do not love london, and is on her way to new york in october for a month's work on the academic literary circle.

i complained to my friend in paris, and i am complaining here, and i have complained on wednesday and on friday, if not everyday of last week, that when something happens and i have to listen to this psychological symphony emanating from my entrails with a melody  that i can not quite recognize, then, i am annoyed. who invited all of those feelings and emotions into my life?

it was life itself, the life that i love, the life that  i have fallen in love with, that is what invited all that cacophony of melodic in-transparency into my world of feeling alive, this empty and meaningless life of mine is very rich indeed.

with all the riches of this world of mine, the most prized possession is that of being understood. how delightfully and fully understood i felt when i first wrote my muse a very personal and totally impersonal letter to tell him how much i admire him, how wonderful it is to feel the generosity of his spirit, and how totally frightening it is to feel his presence!
i may have used other words, but that was the tenor of my message to him. his response was clear, he understood, he accepted my implicit request for distance, and he has honored it ever since. this week my muse was very present in my life, he found his way into a conversation that i had no  intention of bringing him in, yet, there he was, calm, serene, understanding, and with a few crisis all of his own. it was on friday, it was in a session with my therapist, it was liberating.

i do a fast forward into events that have yet to happen, and that yet are connected to the past week: i am in milano. milano is  where my faithful friend lives and works, milano is where i will be in a few week's time. milano is a city that is a city, that is a city, nothing special, and spectacular. it is also the only place in europe where i have ever been involved in a car accident. i associated milano with music. period. forget the "duomo" and forget my friend, the place is about music for me. milano now looks like a place, that after paris, may bring some geographical inspiration into my disarrayed thinking. milano is somehow about being understood, somehow. yes, i am trying to make sense of it all, it is sisyphism.

two questions that i have right now:
1. why the fuck am i so damned altruistic?
2. why do i resist doing what satisfies me?

Technorati Tags: bern, berne, fluage, london, lorenzini, milano, muse, new york, paris, sisyphism

the postman

on sunday i had a delightful very brief discussion on mildly philosophical matters with the mathematician. i knew that there would be a day in my life when a mathematician enters the scene, and then the quest for truth becomes a total farce.

after this discussion i joined my legalbrains friend for another round of hydro-masage and steam room at his health club. he had just returned from ibiza, once more, on saturday, and had stopped on the way back from the geneva airport in lausanne and gone to the pinkbeach. he got a bit frustrated in ibiza, and i pointed out that the source of frustration is not ibiza, he conceded. still, we eventually return to the issue of why i am not to be won over for the idea of going to the pinkbeach and we are discussing this matter while in the "naked zone" at his health club. without glasses i am as blind as a bat, or almost, i can neither see up close nor at the distance, so the male nudeness was nothing that i can appreciate much while there, monkeys would have done just fine, but would not have behaved quite as civilly. the health club is however a family-type serious establishment, nothing of the sort of the pinkbeach in lausanne, which albeit serious about business has no claims to be family friendly, it is just a very liberal meeting place for all permutations of naked encounters to take place with various degrees of sexual interplay, however i am also assured that it is a place to just go for a sauna without any of the side activities. it is like this, there is more to man that skin and anatomy. period. not that i am immune to looking at men as sexual objects, it is just not what i am in the mood for these days. go figure. i am not one to figure my moods. if i could, i could not call it my moods.

i have always claimed to not be able to write a mystery. slowly i suspect that this very blog is turning into mystery pure. who is the man in black? who is the mathematician? where do they live? and what does any of this have to do with the price of coffee in china?

perhaps life is nothing more than one big mystery, or that is what i am starting to suspect. i certainly can not figure it out. while in the nice works of fiction which we call films, there is, in most cases, an open and shut case of a story, some decorated with much brutality, others with much fantasy, and a majority with a lot of marketing, in life, real or online, the open and shut case is evasive. some nameless people in other blogs will go about searching for the truth, and they will rant to no end when another poor sucker -- that is usually me -- goes on and does not give didly about said truth.

perhaps i am still just trying to come to terms with the fact that life seems to be just one big recovery exercise, recovery from life itself, that is. still these days, either my moods, or my perception are such that i am encountering wonderfully loving people all around me, people who reach out and want to be touched and be reminded that they are alive, still alive. a friend of mine casually asked me on saturday if i had lost weight because i was either in love or was going through a crisis. i smiled and asked if he really wanted to know, he turned around, smiled too, and said, better not, he has lost weight too. i had not noticed, but i would not contest his word, and i took my turn and asked him if was in love, or was having a crisis. again, the smile, that shy expression of i wish i could tell you, but nobody understands. in between two breaths he said something to express that his life has always been a crisis. that was both a rather superficial and a much too reveling and truthful exchange of curiosity. we had not seen each other since the spring, and in the spring i had a couple of kilos more  than today, but i have only gone from slim to slimmer, and i was surprised that anybody at all had noticed, still that fact is insignificant. given what i know, and what he knows, that was one very honest exchange. the slogan goes "reach out an touch someone," he did, and he asked me the distance between lausanne and zurich. i have no clue as to why he lost weight, much less of a clue why i did not notice it, and i know that i am in a crisis, and he knows that, and there is no need to talk about it. it is an orthogonal world, as though realities could penetrate one another without touching.

yesterday in searching for some clarity in my ideas, i dug out notes that i wrote in the late 70's and early 80's and among them i found a whole collection of love letters from one loyal friend who continues to share in this empty and meaningless life of mine. i was overwhelmed by the stash of information, and i was overwhelmed with the strength and imperative of my words past. still, i am having a tough time dealing with all that material, especially what i wrote in the early 80's as it seems to me so painfully and tortuously dry.

when i told the mathematician to not worry if he does not have  internet access during the next week while he is on a lecture tour in the usa, i told him that i would not run away with the postman in the meantime. i also then realized that i do not know my postman since i hardly ever get post delivered at the door, it all goes to the post office box. still, today the door bell rings, it is the postman, he says he could not see my name on the boxes and there was a package for me. the package was very touching, it was a thank you gift form a family whom i had helped clear their cellar for a few hours after the floods in the matte. i expected no gifts from my neighbors, and i am very touched by the gesture. loving people reaching out everywhere for just a touch of humanity. the postman came to the door, and i did not run away with him. my sense of humor is beyond logic, i find this amusing.

still i am at a point similar to the one when one day i tore a whole pile of newspapers into shreds and created a sea bed of shredded news on the floor of my home office about 19 years ago. it is perhaps time to shred some newspapers again, i feel myself struggling, if not with life, then with sanity, and frankly i do not know what is better, its presence or its absence. how fortunate can i be, that no matter how much i struggle and suffer, there is always one ready to catch me in his arms, should i ever fall?

it is not a film.

Technorati Tags: fluage, inspiration, integrity, muse, truth

it is the small gestures, not the words

it is a gentle touch on the arm, instead of calling my name...

it is a staring contest, instead of saying i like your presence...

it is a remark that is the opposite of a desire, instead of saying i missed you...

it is the banality of a flirtatious remark, instead of asking for more...

it is you and i, it is not the words, it never was the words.

yes, you.

Technorati Tags: fiction, fluage

it is raining

i like the rain. i may have indeed gone into one deep blue funk. it is strange to be in a deep blue funk, and to be in love at the same time while living in total chaos, to say nothing of uncertainty.

after aikido training i had a bier with two of my aikidoka colleagues at the train station, of all places. i needed to go pick up some groceries, and the shops are open until 21:00 at the train station. for some odd reason one said something about bier, the other had to wait for a train. it was plain clean fun to just spontaneously chat about all the trivialities of our daily lives.

while in my deep blue funk, aikido is sanity pure, no thinking required. three years ago when i went into another, perhaps not quite as deep blue funk period, i could not deal with aikido training. i was off the tatami for a whole year.  this time the funk is deeper, i can feel it, and for better or for worse, i am at a totally different place, i can forget the funk and the love when i am on the tatami. today's training was full of energy, 4 men and 2 women, among them one fellow who had been off the tatami in aikido for a few months due to surgery and with whom i love to practice although i must admit that he is like a bulldozer. what is very special about friday training is the emphasis on the connection between the weapons and the body art. shomen uchi, tsuki  ikkyo, shiho-nage, omote and ura, and good old kokyo-ho, and then at the end of class a bit of randori. i love randori. there are all sorts of forms of randori, and there are all sorts of practices that i have heard called randori. the last thing i am going to here is to be technical about all of this, suffice to say that we had a few minutes of free attack and free defense. it gets fast and furious and it reguires quite a bit of concentration. i had two ukes (attackers) and they were both rather energetic. it seems that i absorbed all that energy rather well, i really feel invigorated after the training in-spite of my left arm injury that strangely enough bothers me much more when i am uke that when i am tori.

it rains, it is really loudly doing so. it has been one wild and crazy day.

but what on earth is this deep blue funk about?

Technorati Tags: aikido, egoism, empty, floue, focus, zen

portuguese: non edited transcript

small talk at lunch time between my cousin TCN and good old me with a swiss keyboard and no portuguese auto speller:

13:27:48 CO: bom dia meu primo!
13:28:07 TCN: Bom dia! Como estás?
13:28:15 TCN: Por cá vai tudo bem!
13:28:17 CO: vai-se andando!
13:28:34 TCN: Isso é que é preciso!
13:28:46 CO: e tu, come estas?
13:30:01 TCN: Olha, estou mais ou menos bem! Estou cansado e farto de estar aqui, mas vou ter que aguentar até Outubro para tirar umas férias!
13:30:36 CO: ao mens ainda tens prespectiva
13:30:53 TCN: Há pouco estive a ver o «site» da Easyjet» que vende passagens de Lisboa para Genebra a menos de 50€!
13:31:05 TCN: Mas é só em Novembro!
13:31:10 CO: entao vem me visitar!
13:31:24 TCN: Ir e voltal á Suiça por menos de 20 conto!
13:31:39 CO: viva a pouca vergonha!
13:31:58 CO: e isto com um preço deste no carburante
13:32:06 TCN: É porreiro, mas será na época do frio!
13:32:38 CO: sim, jà começa a fazer fresco nessa alttura
13:33:05 TCN: Sim. Cá as petrolíferas decidiram aumentar o gasóleo em dois cêntimos e a gasolina também, logo na semana em que o petróleo esta a descer!
13:33:12 TCN: Filhos da puta!
13:33:48 TCN: Não basta a crise em que este país está enfiado, e os cabrões sainda dão mais um empurrãozinho!
13:33:53 CO: como é que sabes que as maes eram putas? eles é que sao cabroes!
13:34:03 TCN: Filhos da puta!
13:34:27 TCN: Devem ser! Se não fossem não eram mães de gente desta!
13:35:01 CO: pois quem sabe... mas tens razao!
13:35:09 TCN: Em Espanha o gasóleo custa menos 0,10€ do que cá!
13:35:40 TCN: Acho que os espanhois compram o petróleo no mesmo sítio que a gente!
13:36:05 CO: sim, mas os portugueses estao habituados a vida de puta!
13:36:17 CO: e isso é sempre mais caro
13:36:24 TCN: Se calhar é isso sim!
13:37:32 TCN: Porra, ou há um golpe de estado ou uma revolta popular ou então não sei onde é que isto para!
13:38:04 CO: olha isso quando doi muito, a coisa rebenta!
13:38:31 TCN: Pois e esta merda está a atingir o limite do suportável!
13:39:04 CO: mas a merda é que o problema nao foi o governo actual que o criou, isso é produto de geraçoes de mau governo e é global!
13:39:54 CO: portanto quando se està na merda, tem que se fazer estrume
13:40:29 TCN: É que em Portugal esta merda não sei se dará para fazer estrume.
13:40:36 CO: viva a republica universal federal da merda!
13:40:47 TCN: Sinceramente não sei!
13:41:10 CO: sim... com as novas tecnologias tudo é possivel
13:41:19 TCN: Se não tivessemos na UE eu não sei se isto não seria o Chile da Europa! Acredita!
13:42:06 TCN: Olha que no Chile resultou... É horrível dizer isto, mas é verdade! Os gajos são o país com melhor nível de vida e com melhores condições da América Latina!
13:42:09 CO: olha... a politica e o governo nunca funciona
13:42:51 CO: nunca estudei o caso do Chile
13:44:09 TCN: Eu já li umas coisas e aquilo não é mau de todo!
13:44:31 TCN: Tem níveis de educação e saúde iguais aos da Europa!
13:45:46 TCN: Tem um nível de vida superior a qualquer outro país da América Latina, tem indústria, é um país exportador.
13:46:35 CO: nao sabia, sim tambem nunca se ouve nada, deve ser bom sinal
13:48:12 TCN: Depois da purga do Pinochet, a democracia estabilizou!
13:49:06 TCN: É o que eu te digo! A sorte desta República é estar na UE, porque senão, acho que o PM seria um General qualquer e o PR outro!
13:49:23 CO: tu pensas que isto é um problema de democracia?
13:49:28 TCN: E seria muito doloroso para este povinho!
13:49:54 TCN: De qualidade da Democracia!
13:50:13 TCN: Nós temos um Regime de má qualidade!
13:50:37 TCN: Quem produz é sistematicamente afastado, invejado, insultado!
13:50:51 CO: sim, sem duvida... mas creio que nao vale a pena ir aprender nos EUA
13:51:16 TCN: Quando aparece uma ideia nova, inovadora, aparecem obstáculos até mais não!
13:51:32 CO: o que dizes, soa verdade... é um pove invejoso
13:52:12 TCN: O único que conseguiu fazer este país progredir foi o Cavaco!
13:52:29 CO: e eu que pensava que tinham enterrado o Salazar ha muito tempo!!!!
13:53:08 CO: e ele agora, nao està interessado a voltar?
13:53:18 CO: (o Cavaco)
13:53:23 TCN: Mas, por exemplo, para contruir uma coisa essencial para o país, como a Ponte Vasco da Gama apareceram dezenas de inteligentes a dizer que devia ser aqui ou além, desta ou edaquela maneira...
13:53:45 TCN: Ele cagou para eles e fez a ponte como entendeu e hoje está feita e bem feita!
13:54:04 TCN: Se fosse a dar ouvidos a todos, ainda hoja estavamos a estudar!
13:54:19 CO: isso é uma cantiga que conheço em todo o lado
13:54:28 TCN: Ele, se voltar, é para PR!
13:54:42 CO: seria bom
13:54:51 TCN: Bem, tenho que ir à Fuzeta almoçar e levar a Srª da limpeza!
13:54:56 TCN: Até logo!
13:55:12 CO: bom proveito e saudades à minha tia

Technorati Tags: IM transcript, portuguese

Je crains

Je crains le tout, le rien, le petit, le grand.
Dans la solitude de tes bras, je crains.

Technorati Tags: abuse, fluage, français, muse

code and coda

dear friends, the kitchen sink drain pipe is backed up. and no, i did not make a copy of it on the external hard drive, it simply refuses to drain at an acceptable rate. this is the state of my life. that was on monday and tuesday, by wednesday the problem was finally fixed, however i still do not know the reason for this problem initially. slowly this is rubbing me the wrong way.

do you still want to know how i am doing?

that is good, your concern would flatter me, if flattery was mine, but i seemed to have lost the value of flattery.

phrases to the tune "global programs to empower young women and create tomorrow's leaders" make me feel cynic, skeptical and bored. I have entered a deep blue funk.

today under the shower i contemplated a possible dialogue on seeing a trusted friend tomorrow. he will ask "how are you?" and i will look him straight in the eye and say, not well. i am in a deep blue funk, deep it is.  there are subjects that bring tears to my eyes faster than any control mechanism to prevent them can act. for years, i wished i could cry, but there was nowhere even the remote tinge of an impulse to shed a tear, then this july, within three days, events took place that so jolted my world that i am often in tears, especially when verbalizing the memory of those past wounds. the wounds are not there where some have speculated them to be, there are there exactly where they were created, not in the projection of another on my being.

this thursday after having celebrated a friend's birthday with a few glasses of wine, i ended up with a sleepless night. i turned on the computer and looked at e-mail. of the new messages, two were significant, only because it meant something to have them there during those lonely and perturbing hours of the morning. one mail gave me the idea to do a web search for a man who has contributed in all sorts of unexpected ways to my existence. i found the answer to my question, and i was satisfied, it was as though a conflict that had been seeking resolution had been smoothed and resolved.

the second e-mail that i read that dawn was like a refreshing breeze on a balmy night, a breeze of an elixir that i have yet to accept as real. i was once more, right smack in the face of the question "what do you want really?"
it takes a mathematician to rock my boat, but this boat is already on troubled waters, it could be more that the mathematician was the one who could assert the veracity of the condition. it is perhaps the incontestability of that veracity that gets me wide awake in my sleeplessness and allows me to again peacefully fall asleep and rest.

i have more questions that ever. i am more committed to my muses then i had imagined possible.

Technorati Tags: floue, fluage, muse, sleepless, truth, ultruism, veracity

unclogged, not blocked...

unclogged, not blocked...
Posted by: intutum.

untamed!