cymru

or, the reason for the absence last week...

the amazing adventures of Troubled Soul - act II

“you just have to find the one that is Happy and ask him to change. that is the most logical solution. until then, i cannot help you, dear sir. and now, it’s time for lunch.” with that, Civil Servant rapidly closed the blinds of the registry booth and quickly disappeared in the maze of corridors and doors. off to another take away lunch in the loneliness (he would have phrased it as peace and quiet, or even meditative quietness, if he had any poetic bone in his body) of the local park. lonely sushi, lonely burger, lonely pizza, lonely chinese food and lonely vegetarian. those were the equivalent terms to the more normal monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday and friday that people tend to use to define the five working days in the 7-day week.

“and exactly how am i supposed to find this so-called one that is Happy? i thought this would be easy and straightforward…” mumbled Troubled Soul. he sulkily stepped off of the registry office (now completely devoid of life, like every single public building seems to become at around this time. as if a gigantic vacuum sucked all of the almost intelligent life inside, hid it for an hour or two or three and then magically brought it back to the exact same place they were sitting in earlier…) and started walking along the street.
at the same time, the skies seemed to share his worries and started crying. heavily. and with added fireworks that came in the form of thunderstorms. it seems that, at times, the skies can be very sensitive towards human feelings. either that or it was just another unfortunate coincidence in this rather eventful day.
weary of the ancient sayings that warn people not to take cover under trees, Troubled Soul decided to continue his walk down the road. just when approximately 70% of his body was soaked in the tears that poured from the skies, also known as cats-and-dogs-kind-of-rain, an idea flashed in his brain. in hindsight, it could have brought about a tragedy because it’s common knowledge that ideas that flash in someone’s brain always (but really always) look like electric bulbs and that electricity and water are a bit like water and oil and don’t mix too well.

leaving behind these considerations and getting back to the point of this story, Troubled Soul had an idea that would leave him a step closer to achieve what he so enthusiastically proclaimed when he first got up that day. “i just need to find a telephone booth. i can easily find the one that is Happy in the telephone book, get his address and just drop by.” he thought. little did he know that, in that part of town, there was only one telephone booth and that he was walking in the opposite direction. he eventually got there. but, by then, he was 96% soaked…

outside of a dog #12

oscar wilde - "the picture of dorian gray"

talk to the shoes 'cause the face's not listening...

what's that you say about being old?

de volta e com mais um ano na bagagem...

music for your ears while i'm away...

i'm from barcelona - "we're from barcelona"

feist - "1,2,3,4"

see you next week...

card tricks

não existe nada de novo neste mundo
sentimentos e acções vêm desde o início dos tempos
tempo que não volta atrás
tempos que nunca são como os do antigamente
mas nada de novo existe
nem as palavras escapam
vergadas pela idade que carregam em cada letra
cansadas de transmitir a mesma ideia
usadas sempre da mesma forma
juras de amor eterno e de vingança
declarações de intenções e de guerra
proclamações de independência
orações para dar ânimo à alma
discursos de liberdade
dramas de fazer chorar pedras da calçada
comédias tolas, inteligentes ou negras
tragédias gregas que perdem as noções de geografia
terrores e horrores com bichos e monstros
e coisas para as quais não há nome
mas que logo se baptizam
sempre as mesmas palavras
nunca nada de novo
baralha
parte
e volta a dar...

outside of a dog #11

josé saramago - "levantado do chão"

the amazing adventures of Troubled Soul - act I

Troubled Soul woke up one day and decided to be Happy. but, what at first seemed an easy task, turned out to be quite an adventure…
“i’ll be Happy in no time!” shouted out Troubled Soul. and off he went to the registry office to formally conduct the change. there he met Civil Servant, also known as Lazy Bastard, although none of his (decidedly few) friends ever called him that to his face.
“how can i be of service?” asked Civil Servant also known as Lazy Bastard to the visibly excited Troubled Soul.
“why, i’d like to be Happy!” replied Troubled Soul.
“hmm, let’s see… i’m afraid there’s a problem.” mumbled Civil Servant, also known as Lazy Bas… you got the idea.
“what kind of problem, my dear sir? is it not possible for me to be Happy?” inquired Troubled Soul.
“besides the obvious problems that arise from the bureaucratic process that is the changing of one’s name, we already have one…”
“one what?”
“one Happy. you’ll have to choose another name, i’m afraid.” Civil Servant solemnly announced, while thinking to himself that he was, as usual, conducting his work in a remarkably professional manner. maybe it was time to ask for a raise or, even better, more responsibility.
“is there anything i can do about it?”, asked Troubled Soul.
“let me think for a second…”
actually, several minutes elapsed before Civil Servant had a reply for Troubled Soul. but, in his opinion, it was the most brilliant, simple and incredibly logical solution for the problem at hand.
“well, after pondering on your rather peculiar situation, i think i can give you my expert opinion…”

you knew in 5 minutes but i knew in a sentence

i'll pick up the pieces of your broken heart
torn by the hereditary pain living inside
i'll be your myocardium
stretching across to reach all the fragments
extending
forcing the internal cytoskeleton
to make the heart whole again
hoping nothing has been lost
i'll reset the heartbeat
slow at first
but, steadily, picking up momentum
from the strength that is born in times of turmoil
i'll pump the blood through your weary body
fill up all the empty vessels
and hypoxic corners
i'll be your red blood cells
i'll be your oxygen
i'll feed you
i won't let you die

the summer of our discontent

the heart breathes bloody with every passing day...

a cloudy sky

if this is supposed to be summer, i don't want to imagine what winter will bring...