The Unmoved Mover

Getting away

2010-04-09T16:07:00.004+02:00

...The automated doors were closing with that sound characteristic of pneumatic machinery when, through the walls and the windows, a man's voice still managed to make its way to the passengers' ears. It was some announcement, carried by that gray-ish air you usually find in old photographs, but the voice was too faint to make out the message. He managed to catch some o's with strange dots hovering over them, as well as some u's wearing the same hat and some beta's. The flash of a chill passed through his spine, but just for a second. He then decided to leave the voice where it was --in the past, one minute; two minutes ago--, and continue reading there where he was. In that seat on the train, in that gray, washed-out atmosphere with that strange smell of metal.

Sometimes

2010-03-26T11:39:00.002+01:00

Sometimes, I go to a dark place and I linger there for a while. When I'm in there, I don't like myself —in fact, I don't like anything at all; I awake at night, not knowing who I am, or why.

I don't like the dark place.

This post is not sarcastic

2010-01-19T16:32:00.004+01:00

Not at all. I think, in fact, that the sarcasm punctuation mark is an extremely good idea. How often have we been victims of that terrible terrible weapon of evil minded people who, just for kicks, take advantage of our gullibility. The sarcmark (how they call it) is the perfect solution to that problem. What's more, on top of it being such a good idea, it's cheap too!

Writer aficionado, this is for you! No more complex writing skills needed to express your sarcasm, no more creativity needed to it. Just say it, followed by a sarcmark, and your readers will know that you're actually being sarcastic.

Clearly, a good deal. So go on people! Buy your very own sarcasm punctuation mark*! This will not only help avoid misunderstandings, it will also take away all the fun to being sarcastic!

*Available for Windows XP/Vista/7, Mac OSX, Blackberry... Sorry folks, no Open source here, open source dudes are not sarcastic enough...

Note. This post was, in case you didn't notice, very sarcastic.

Xie xie

2009-11-11T01:20:00.003+01:00

There is a time in the life of every bloke-who-writes --or at least who tries to write--, when the tediousness of writing for no one; the limbo of no feedback; the... You know what I mean, don't you?

Anyway, I just noticed there are some people (one or two), who might be regular visitors of this hall of bad postings. And I wanted to tell you. yes, you. Thank you. Thanks for coming by and visiting. If it weren't for you, I would write even less than I already do.

I'll take a shower now.

Randomly

2009-10-26T15:46:00.003+01:00

I am not a writer. I have no idea what a real writer does. Where would one write drafts? Does a real writer write drafts? Or maybe one just writes as it goes...

I have no clue.

I might be an amateur writer, one that pours the occasional thought on paper; a journal entry today, an attempt at a short story tomorrow. But that's as far as it goes.

A few days ago, I saw some pictures of famous authors. Some were authors I like, some others were authors liked by friends of mine. In any case, they all shared this intellectual look. Disheveled hair, smart look on their eyes, a half consumed cigarette between their lips... What let me thinking: I am not a heavy smoker either. You could even put me together with the non-smoker group. The truth is that I'm no more than your average Joe. I listen to music, just as any other bloke, I dress casually --so casually that I am usually camouflaged with the rest of the average Joes out there-- and the look on my face is almost as absent as that of any other person you might find in a lift.

A random woman approached me today while I has having a smoke --the first one in months. She asked, without waiting for me to take my earphones off, if I had a cig for her. After taking freeing one ear I asked her to repeat her question, to which she repeated, do you have a cigarette you could share? So I reached for my cigs, took one out, lit it for her and engaged into a meaningless 2 minutes conversation, after which I wondered if she really wanted a cigarette or just wanted to talk to someone.

Unimportant. I put my cigarette off, tossed the thought aside, and stepped into the train waiting for me to take me to my office. I put my music back on and a thought stroke my mind...

I am not a writer

...

2009-10-21T15:24:00.000+02:00

Purple carrots,

yellow carrots...

why o why?

Entry No. 2

2009-09-24T22:07:00.004+02:00

I finished reading Dracula today. I loved the book; I know it's supposed to be a horror story, but more than that it was just a fantastic narration. Time to start a new one now. Let's see what comes.

Anyway, back to life. The last few days have been very trying for me. My mood isn't improving anything at all; quite the contrary, I find myself waking up in an even worse mood than the day before. I am so snappy that it takes a lot of effort not to start shouting at people or doing stupid stuff. Even worse is the fact that it's starting to get to my nerves that my girlfriend hangs out so often with her ex, which is something completely new to me, and very annoying.

By the end of the day I'm so tired of all this shit that I just lie down on bed, cover myself all the way up to the ears and wish I won't wake up, ever again.

Walking down the path

2009-09-20T01:47:00.005+02:00

It's been some months now since I joined the unemployed's force. I've been struggling hard to go back to the old good vice of working for a living and getting a fairly good salary. All to no avail.

I'm exaggerating, I also eat, like everyone else does, and I have a little room in a shared house, so I have to get at least some money. I have a job, I do. I am officially a software developer at a small company based in some important financial city. My job, though, pays me barely enough to make a living. The constant stress of finding myself in a tight economical situation is actually my way of life now. I know not the tranquility that I pursue.

But why am I saying all this? And, most of all... Why should I complain?

So I can't afford traveling, or buying a car or a computer even. Is that really so important?

All I have to do to know I can keep going on is turn around and look. For it is when I see her; when I look into her eyes, that I know I must be doing something right.

If life can get as good as this, then it might as well get better. And it's worth fighting for it.

End of today's entry. Now go have fun ;)

The Builders

2009-08-03T15:35:00.004+02:00

We call them The Builders, he said.

"They are, as you can see, pretty much like us. We don't know where or how they live though, all they ask in exchange for their help is music. A very cheap price if you ask me, haha". Thus he continued telling me about their society and their customs while I watched The Builders work. What a view! I tell you, if I hadn't seen them with my own eyes, I wouldn't have got the full grasp of it. They look pretty much like humans, until one realises that they are, in fact, giants. Now, that is very easy to picture, I've always imagined all sorts of things (giants included) since I was little kid. But to actually see one is a very different thing. My mind, not being used to such a view, had a difficult time believing it and it took me a long time of staring at them to finally accept it.

In the evening on that same day, I was invited to a small dinner party they were having out on some field. When the weather is nice like today, we like having dinner outside, he told me as I helped him carry some food and other stuff to an open field nearby the town centre. Sometimes we invite some of The Builders to join us. They love it when we start playing music and dancing, he said as he laid the things on the grass and saw the surprised expression on my face at the sight of four Builders coming towards us.

It was a great party, I must say. We had a simple -but delicious- meal and then some local band started playing and everyone started dancing. When everything finished, I went back to the room they had very nicely prepared for me, and wrote a few good memories on my travel journal. I hope I can come back sometime soon and have another dinner and see more about the life here. Maybe I can even get to talk to one of The Builders, you never know.

Am I?

2009-07-11T14:39:00.004+02:00

I am kind of pissed. Truth is, I like her. I like being with her, and being for her. When it all started, I knew it was going to be difficult. The circumstances, we used to say. The circumstances.

Little did I know, it wasn't only going to be difficult, it was going to be painful as well, and it would test my patience. This situation has been taking the best of me in a time where I'm not at my best. I feel the unjustice of it all and the burden is too big to bear. My heart pounds with fury whenever I think I'm being treated like I am. My brows are permanently knitted and my face is that of a person in pain. And I ask myself why. I should be happy that she loves me, shouldn't I?

Then there are times, when I can't avoid snapping. I snap at anybody, I swear and I call names to people I don't even know, just because they happen to walk at a slower pace than I do. I snap at her too. I know I shouldn't, I know how I am when I'm upset. This is not what I want. The worst part is when I try to explain to her why is it that I'm snappy, or that I'm in pain. I cannot understand how does she do it, or why. But somehow, she ends up being mad at me, and, all of a sudden, I'm the bad guy.

Am I the bad guy?

Tat Nr. 111

2009-07-09T23:40:00.003+02:00

°
Leute

sind

lustige

Tiere

°

Drops...

2009-07-09T14:42:00.002+02:00

So yeah...

I've been wondering why is it that, now that I'm complete --somehow anyway--, I feel as I feel.

Why am I getting even more immersed in my books than before?

sigh...

I know what it is.

She is part of my life now. I've made it so. I like it that way. But I'm not part of hers. Not completely anyway. And it feels...

--bad--

So deep...

2009-06-09T00:50:00.002+02:00

The world of a
machine device
matter technology

I am not strong
so as to be able to
merely live in the no
potato few world alone

__________
http://engrishfunny.com/2009/06/06/engrish-no-potato/

Out of sight

2009-05-12T13:16:00.004+02:00

It's just another day in the midst of a very wet summer, rain has been heavily pouring down for two weeks. Today is not an exception. Millions of water drops fall from the broken skies, splashing everywhere, wettening everything they touch.

It is kind of fun, actually. If you ask the rain, she would tell you it's not a just a job that came with a how-to-wetten manual. No. It is also a hobby and, in some deeper way, a return home. Wettening, she would tell you, is her life.

Today, however, there is something different. Something disturbing. Like when you can see something with the corner of the eye, but it's not there anymore when you turn around to focus on it. Just like that, there is some... thing, eluding rain. Eluding the wettening.

-for today, he was wearing his detective clothes. to avoid the weather.-

Coffee

2009-05-11T14:46:00.004+02:00

He sits on his usual chair.
He takes his cup of coffee and takes a sip. It's been a relative short time since he started drinking it again. To him, it is not an addiction, not like it is for most people. To him, it's memories. Whispers in his mouth, traveling all the way from his tongue to his mind. Edible pictures of long walks by the lake, cosy movie evenings, long emails during working hours...

He sighs.
Somehow, the nostalgia remains. He sips again from his lukewarm (and therefore bitter) coffee, and thinks that yes, he would live everything again... And more
-It's told that people sigh when they miss someone-

I do, I really do...

2009-04-22T14:11:00.004+02:00

As I step into the train, I can't help but to think of all the things I have to do and always forget doing. There's this email I have to send, I have to finish writing my thesis, there are some things I have to take care of at the office... And so on, the list continues.

For a minute, I get distracted and look outside through the window glass. I look at all the green --so much green!!-- outside. And the truth is: I LIKE the springtime.

I like the springtime, with its flowers and leaves, with the not-too-hot-but-not-too-cold weather; sunny, yet fresh... I like it, all of it.

yes.

Yes, I know, I know I complain incessantly about the evil pollen of doomy doom. But don't let that fool you, springtime is mytime.

Heh, I turn back from the outside scenery and see two people sitting a bit further down the wagon. He's quite an ordinary guy with a not-as-ordinary outfit that makes him look very gay. She's an ordinary girl with a broad smile and light brown hair. They sit opposite to each other. Not on the same aisle though. He has his own aisle, which is empty apart from him, and she has her own aisle, which she shares with another man who is clearly not with her. They are talking. Gay-looking-guy and ordinary girl. They talk from aisle to aisle. And I wonder: "why don't they sit together?"

Some time passes by, the not-so-ordinary people there are still talking, the train makes a stop, someone opens the doors from outside and the same someone steps into the train. Another ordinary guy. This one has brown, curly hair and his outfit says plainly "I'm German". He has a heart painted with black ink on his forehead...

***

I love your almond eyes.

Caveats

2009-04-16T01:47:00.004+02:00

The thing is, you see, I can't give give give...

Ok, let me put it this way, if I keep giving and don't get anything back, one day I'm going to run out of it. And then, what will I have, that I can give?

nothing.

nothing...

Nervous and blue

2009-04-13T03:02:00.001+02:00

Sometimes it takes a little bit of extra energy to keep on going.

please

2009-03-23T11:40:00.000+01:00

...

Ojos asi

2009-03-18T15:18:00.005+01:00

Whether there is a better way of thinking of you,
I have not found out yet...

~

The sun shines and, colourless as the panorama is --for it is still winter for three more days--, everything turns to life...

-- They close their eyes and turn to face the light and enjoy the warmth --

In our innermost selves, we still admire our big star; we still praise the moment it bathes us with its brightness; and, to some of us, it becomes as clear as water, why our ancestors believed it to be a god of sorts and adored it.

To me...

To me, the sunshine brings a smile upon my face; to me the sunshine brings memories...

Memories of Sunshine.

Girasol

2009-03-18T11:11:00.004+01:00

In the land of cold, wind and cloud,
the streets fill with sunflowers,

everytime the Sun comes out.

*

Looking

2009-03-12T11:31:00.003+01:00

They wait,

and they gaze.

And while they watch, they learn...

They learn from what they see.

On cables, houses, posts...

In rows they stand on their little claws.

And they observe.

Until someday.

Someday they will act,

the dreadful pigeons of doom.

prr prr

blind cat

2009-03-12T11:13:00.002+01:00

I took my glasses off and put them away.

I don't know, maybe, like a little kid, I'm trying to hide from the rest of the world so they can't see me.

"you've got to be the little man. they can't see you coming", he said... Maybe he was right.

Hah, fact is, they were getting heavy...

... and the view was getting heavy as well.

It's time

2009-03-11T10:18:00.000+01:00

to stop wasting my time and energy...

I

2009-03-05T23:38:00.005+01:00

have no pillow...

Appletree

2009-03-02T18:33:00.003+01:00

Look, look! That guy!

What? Woah! He's climbing to the top! o.O

Yeah! Crazy guy, there's nothing there.

Hey! You! Crazy guy!

Huh?

Yeh, you! Why are you climbing to the top? There's nothing there, you know...

What do you mean?

Well, there aren't any apples there.

Ah, apples...

Huh?

I don't want no apple

Then, why climb?

Look up...

What... Leaves?

UP *points to the sky

Huh? What's there?

Stars...

Blues Imbiss

2009-02-28T02:29:00.004+01:00

-- Hallo, could I have a... Blues of the heart please?

- Of course, to take? Or to eat here?

-- To take, thanks.

...And so, the poet's soul paid and then went to eat its blues. Alone, in the rain.

and from the ashes...

2009-02-26T10:15:00.005+01:00

«In dreams, time works different. It gets bended in strange ways and, thus, flows at a different pace than in "real" life.»

*

There are so many memories in my head. So many pictures of what now seems to be only a dream. There they are, walking by the lake, watching a movie, watching the stars at night, talking in a bar. Time, however, flies, and everything comes to an end.

*And from memories, the ashes of the past, something new shall come to be.

Fantasies & Delusions

2009-02-23T08:42:00.003+01:00

His fingers ran over the black and white keys. They pressed here and there, and each time a new sound would echo all over the place. There he sat, the notes flying to his ears and radiating from him at the same time. There are things that cannot be said with words. And he sat, and his body moved unconsciously, and he and his music were one same being. The notes spoke for him, they sang, and laughed, and cried. And he wasn't thinking anymore; he let himself go, his heart in his hands, his hands on the piano.

Images would come now and again; memories of the past, distorted pictures of events that may or may not have happened how he remembers. And his heart would shrink, and grow again; his hands metamorphosing every ounce of feeling into sound. Then wishes. Hopes. Pictures of possible futures, of possible outcomes; fantasies would strike and make him hold on to crazy desires. Daydreams based on deluded memories and coincidences.

But what, if not fantasies and delusions, is the fuel that makes the poet's soul work?

After the storm

2009-02-22T12:16:00.001+01:00

they say, the sun shines...

Being in love...

2009-02-22T04:13:00.002+01:00

makes you delusional. The barrier between reality and fantasy blurs with every action, every word, every look. Daydreams become the only way of seeing things, and signals start crashing into you every five seconds.

The fall always hurts.

How cool is this!

2009-02-20T16:13:00.001+01:00

Follow the link!!!

I may put that in practice... hmmm

Czernobóg

2009-02-17T00:36:00.003+01:00

The dark god.

...And everything returns to darkness. It's thickness feels so familiar.

This is me, this black soup of nothingness.

Snowflakes

2009-02-15T04:20:00.001+01:00

are little cotton balls that fall from the sky...

That night...

2009-02-14T03:59:00.004+01:00

I hugged you.

That night I dared.

I said it already, and I'll say it again.

I love you.

A mini brownie

2009-02-11T20:12:00.005+01:00

They were sitting at the table. He had an exotic hot chocolate with chilli, she had a big cafe latte. He tried his cocoa and, slightly disappointed by the not-so-spicy taste, put his cup back on the table. They weren't talking much yet, just looking around, at the coffee shop's decoration, the lamps, the walls, the colour of the tables, the waitresses and their uniforms. A waitress came by and gave him his chocolate cake and her her brownie. The look on her face when she saw the tiny brownie was so cute, he had to laugh. Her narrowed eyes, which accented her oriental features, revealed such a disappointment. Like a kid, whose ice cream has fallen to the ground. He laughed once more, and then she laughed too. He said something, and she stared at him for a couple of seconds. Her look was... And, despite the lousy food, he fell in love.

They never returned to that coffee shop...

Hunger

2009-02-10T18:51:00.007+01:00

Office life is quite difficult. First of all, you have to sit around all day long, which, contrary to what most people think, is very very tiring. Then, if you are an IT guy, as I am, (I know, how geek is that?), you know how exhausting it is to stare at the monitor all the time. But all in all the problem isn't being an IT guy, or looking at the monitor all the time, or sitting around all day long. It's the hunger... Yes, the hunger. That's what really makes you suffer. The lack of biscuits, the scarcity of cheesecake, the absence of chocolate. How's one supposed to work like that?

Coffee without biscuits just doesn't do the trick...

#8597

Ordinary...

2009-02-08T10:38:00.004+01:00

He put everything back in his backpack with the precise movements of a structured mind. Then he shut down the pc and, without waiting for it to complete its task, stood up and put on his beige blazer and then his brown jacket. Today he dressed lightly, since the weather forecast predicted a slight increase in temperature. To his surprise, not only was the forecast right, but he even got plenty of sunshine and a beautiful blue sky. After putting on his jacket, he went to get the rest of his things and left the office at a quick, yet not hasty, pace.

Buses were such an inconvenience. On one hand, he was very fond of public transportation and the many advantages it brought. Nevertheless, he also found it to be limiting, and at times even suffocating. The whole idea of being bound to a fixed schedule in order not to miss the bus or the train and, what's more, the time lost if such thing were to happen, just drew him nuts. That's why he had a bike. He would ride it everywhere. It was his freedom. It was his 2¢. It was his way of contributing to the world's welfare and it was how he proclaimed his sovereignty.
During Winter, however, he did not ride his bike to work and, thus, he had to depend on the bus.

"How annoying", he thought as he walked to the bus stop. Then again, he was almost there now, and the fresh air had done its job, freeing his mind of all thoughts concerning work.

The bus stop was still empty. He got there, it seemed, a bit too early. But "what the heck?", he thought, the weather was alright and he would use the extra five minutes to breathe this wonderful fresh air. He took a mouthful of air, breathing it slowly, enjoying its smell and feeling how it filled every inch of his body. Then he turned up to the sky and there they were. As if waiting for him to look at them, a bunch of stars and a big white moon, all looking at back at him. "What a view", he thought and stayed standing, his head facing upwards, admiring the scenery and talking to the lights in the sky.
Soon, people would come, the bus would arrive, they would all step in, and this would be over...

He took another deep breath, and wished...

A little article

2009-01-29T09:51:00.003+01:00

The article is in German, but the main "news" is that in some places in Europe (Spain, Italy, UK), some atheist groups are expressing their ideas in the forms of posters and such which you can read inside public transportation vehicles and on the streets...

Now, this shouldn't really be something worth publishing as "news" or something. Nevertheless, we still live in a primitive "spiritual culture" and people with different points of view are often seen as evil and radical.

Anyway, I leave the link to the article here (don't know how long it will be online) for those of you who can read German :p.

Opinions? Anybody?

Black as night, sweet as sin

2009-01-19T08:24:00.003+01:00

Total darkness is thick. He laid on the mattress and, just before falling asleep, decided to open his eyes in a gesture of not giving in to Morpheus's temptations. As he lay there, he realized he had never before tried to be really aware of the darkness. He had been in dark rooms before alright, or some other dark places. However, he had never tried to be aware of it.

Now was the time for that, he decided.

He opened his eyes, and closed them again. Then he opened them once more, all this time just drinking the absence of light, feeling it. He moved his hands, his arms, his legs. Then he turned in the four basic directions, each one of them showing him the same view. After a while, he could feel the black thickness surrounding him, as if being submerged in an endless cup of a very very black coffee.

He drank it... He drank it all...

Until it filled him to the bones, and further, to the marrow... to his soul. Time, space, dreams, reality; everything fused into one and the same, and he surrendered himself to it.

That night, he didn't dream.

Man with cold feet

2009-01-13T23:32:00.004+01:00

is looking for a winter girlfriend (not summer girlfriend, just winter girlfriend.) Requisites: sweet, huggable, not-noisy, thin (to squeeze in my bed), reasonably pretty, and, most important, with warm feet.

Me... I'm a man... With cold feet.

-------------------

Out of the flask

2009-01-13T23:06:00.001+01:00

Click on the image to see your internet speed :) The one shown is mine.

The man on the stars

2009-01-09T08:19:00.014+01:00

It was earlier than usual. The bus stop, however, looked exactly as every other day. Empty. He was always the only one waiting for the bus, and he was always the only one in the bus. Not even a driver was to be seen, which, at first, gave him the creeps, but then, slowly, he got used to it. He stepped on the bus and, although it was empty, he took his time before choosing a seat --the last time he couldn't sit because there was something lumpy there.

--There he is again--, said Susann, --the strange guy I told you about--, and turned around to face Catherine.

They both went a long way back; they first met at junior high. By the time they started high school, Susann moved the city, because her dad got another position at the company he worked for, and now both girls were studying finance at the same university.

--Ahhhh, where, where?, was asking Catherine while turning right and left, looking for something suspicious.

--There, he's about to get in the bus. The one with the beige jacket--, and, making a humming sound of disapproval, she remarked how he always ignored the line, as if the other people didn't exist.

Susann found an internship about two months ago and was, since, working part time along with her studies. This was the bus she always took to work, and it was Catherine's first day as intern in the same company --by Susann's recommendation.

--He's so strange... Just the other day, I was already in the bus, and then he came in and almost sat on a taken seat! The guy sitting there asked what was wrong with him and all, but all he got was a strange look, as if strange-guy didn't understand what was happening... He's a little coocoo, I tell you.

The bus kept moving, its occupants, most of them, dozing off or just looking to a blank point in the horizon. He turned his music player on, carefully extended the earphones' cable and, after separating "R" from "L", introduced first the right one in his right ear, then the other one in the other ear. Some rock song was on, and he, suddenly remembering there was no one else there, started singing aloud.

In the bus, nobody paid special attention to strange-guy. It was always tricky at the time of stepping into the vehicle, but afterwards it was almost as normal as anything else, except for one thing...

--Oh, look, look... He's getting his things now-- said Susann, who as hard as she thought about it, just couldn't get into her head what was about to happen.

--What, seriously? Now? But we're still moving, and he didn't even pressed the stop button or anything!

The empty bus stopped. He walked alongside the seats towards the front door, threw a last look at the empty driver seat, and stepped out with a look on his face that clearly said "what the..." and "ooh, whatever" at the same time.

Many people... Most people would have reacted alarmingly in a situation like this. The 7.20-bus-people, however, were already used to seeing strange-guy step out of the bus while moving and without opening the doors. They just ignored it now. Or at least tried to, and continued with their lives as if nothing had ever happened. Not that it would be a great shock anyway, since hard as they tried, they were never able to actually be aware of what was taking place. In fact, whoever tried, was left with an uncomfortable feeling afterwards, just like the feeling you get when you dream of something and you know you remember it and you know you remember all the details, but somehow you don't remember a single thing about it other than that it existed.

...Inside an enormous skyscraper, a man who came from an empty bus is ready to go to work. He steps into a lift and presses a minuscule blue button. The display in the lift lights up and reads: "Middle Orion".

***

2009-01-03T11:06:00.005+01:00

Lying on the sofa, he stares at the ceiling. The lights are off and there isn't much he can actually see in there, just the white blurry form of a round paper lamp and some shadows cast from things outside the living room. He thinks about standing up and turning the light on, perhaps reading a little, but the vacuum in his chest doesn't let him move. He breathes once, and again, and the void extends to his stomach.

The ceiling has stopped moving, the lamp glows gloomily, barely enough to make it's contour visible, and outside there is no wind. Everything stays still, waiting...

He turns to his right, reaches for his lighter on the table and, after opening his stomach with his left hand, introduces it slowly, carefully in his body. Once inside, he lights it up. The fire catches up and grows steadily inside him. After a while, the flame is big enough to reach his chest. The fire-tongue warms patiently, moving slowly, kissing his heart until it starts melting.

A magma-like liquid fills the void there used to be in his body, in his being. And he is alive.

Look up, see the stars...

2008-12-29T02:25:00.003+01:00

It's late and everyone has already gone to sleep. I get up from the couch and walk across the dimly lit living room to get my jacket. I think of it twice and decide that I do have the time to relax and think, «hell, I'm on vacation». So I take my jacket, put it on, get the keys from the table and silently go out of the room, across the hall, down the stairs, until I finally get out of the house.

Outside it's warmer than I thought. I reach for my cigarettes inside my jacket's right pocket and take them out --I don't really consider myself a smoker; nonetheless, I like to smoke the occasional clove cigarette. The pack is so old now that some of the cigarettes have actually lost some of their content. Oddly enough, the one cigarette I pull out of it happens to be one of them and has already lost at least two thirds of its body. «Oh well»

I lit my midget cigarette and look up to see the stars --there are so many to be seen.

There is a sigh now.

Somehow, I had to think of you.

It's raining snow

2008-12-19T08:30:00.003+01:00

Death Cab for Cutie is playing on my iPod, it's just some song I've heard before --what was the name of that song? Oh well, I can't remember. I keep on walking. Today is a gray, cold day... I return back to my body and realise it's raining. Somehow, though, I'm not getting wet from the rain.

Song change.

Death Cab for Cutie is still on, this song I know too, I think. But then again, all their songs sound the same, so I may as well not know it. In any case, the music goes perfectly well with the weather.

It's raining snow.

You know, when the raindrops aren't really drops, but snowflakes, but the weather isn't cold enough, so they melt to the point of almost becoming drops... Anyway, it's raining snow (or snowing rain, whatever you want to call it) and I'm on my way to the bus stop so I can finally go to the office. I don't really care if I get a little bit wet, so I walk at a slow pace, thinking, listening to music...

Next thing I know, I'm looking at the gray sky... I miss the sunshine.

Trips - I dream I typed

2008-12-11T08:35:00.004+01:00

I wake up sometime between midnight and dawn to the sound of typing. I open slowly my eyes, everything is still blurry and dark. As my mind realizes I'm awake, I myself realize the typing sound didn't come from outside but that

I was dreaming I was asleep and in my dream I dreamed

I typed a story --I almost always type stories, what was typing invented for if not for writing anecdotes, fictions, thoughts... I didn't type letters, but concepts, ideas. And the story these concepts told was about a dream I had. In my dream I dreamed I typed a story about this dream I had where

I'm asleep and suddenly, I wake up sometime between midnight and dawn to the sound of typing.

old & bitter

2008-12-09T08:15:00.003+01:00

A wooden table stood between them. It was a rather clear autumn day, the Sun was shining and there were few clouds to be seen. It was a fresh day too, like autumn days ought to be in this part of the world, with a light breeze blowing here and there every once in a while. They sat on opposite sides of the table, looking at the horizon, looking at nothing in particular, looking at the mountains not yet covered in snow, but somehow quite white already.

A soft breeze came by, disheveling hair and stirring steam as it blew, and then left, leaving a slightly refreshing feeling on its way. Two steaming cups of coffee stood on a wooden table. This was the common ground. He liked his coffee with milk and sugar; she liked hers black.

--You know? I really don't want to grow up to be a bitter old woman--She told him out of the blue.

--Huh? Why would you be a bitter old woman?

--Oh, it's just... Well, it's kind of normal, isn't it? You grow up, and suddenly you don't agree with how people live and such, and then all you know is you're all bitter and complaining about everything the whole time

--Why? Wha... Ok. Ok... Maybe you're right. But I dunno. I won't be like that ever. I just won't.

--How can you say that? How do you know? And, anyway, I was talking about me.

--Well, don't you go worrying about that... I'll be there to help avoid you turning a bitter old witch.

--Awww, that's nice of you, thanks.

Another light breeze passed by, she took her cup to her mouth, sipped her coffee and, after noticing it was already getting cold, said in a rather bitter voice:

--dammit!

To which he just giggled.

The Spiral

2008-12-02T08:40:00.002+01:00

My face is buried in my hands. "Sigh", I sigh. I'm tired, it's already late at night and I had an exhausting day. It's not only that I had much to do, but also the routine that withers my energy day after day. I'm thinking of nothing in particular; concentrated on relaxing my body, I take a deep breath and stay another minute like that. Normally, I don't turn the lights on if I don't need them. Lights are off, the room would be pitch dark were the window blinds not open. It doesn't make any difference, with my hands over my eyes I can't see anything anyway.

Sometimes I close my eyes to have a better look at myself.

Yet another couple of minutes pass by and everything starts getting darker. Not even my ears can perceive any clear noise. The air stays still, as, apparently, does everything else. It's as if the whole world had agreed on letting me concentrate and have my peace of mind. Suddenly, I reach the point and, for one second, the darkness is total, a darkness of the senses, a darkness that comes from within and, thus, thicker than the mere lack of light. I don't feel anything, don't see, hear or smell. My mouth isn't even there. Not where I am anyway.

It is when I am away from my body, that feelings hit me stronger.

For one whole second, I leave my body completely and turn into a much more vulnerable self. A self without any kind of protection against the outside world whatsoever. For one whole second I forget appearances, judgments, and any kind of interaction. In the depths of the infinite well of my soul, I find myself losing consciousness, losing myself.

It's only after I've lost everything, that I'm capable of anything... of everything

My lost self turns one with my soul. A bottomless well filled up with the infinite of life; I regain consciousness and, with this newly reacquired awareness, I realize I left and came back. I notice I'm in my body again --by the way my body feels, I know it missed me and it's glad to have me back. I'm still in the same room; nothing changed, face still buried in my hands. After breathing as if I were tasting the air for the first time in my life --exquisite elixir of life, filling every inch of me--, I raise my head and, automatically, almost instinctively, turn to look out of the window.

There's a man sitting in the shadows. It's very dark, so I can only notice a figure. It is clear enough though, for me to notice that he's in a profound state of mind. I try to get a better look, but fail at it, it's too dark outside. Then I close my eyes once more.

This time I hear a voice and, in my mind, I can clearly see a man squatting on the grass at night. He is repeating some kind of mantra. I try to make out the words he's pronouncing when he, out of nowhere stops and turns to look at me.

"At last", he says...

On your left shoulder

2008-12-01T08:32:00.005+01:00

The four of them were sitting at the table. On the web-radio, playing on the computer behind one of them, some old swing music was on (he had always liked Frank Sinatra.) "I've always liked Frank Sinatra", one of them said. Another one asked if that's what they're listening to and, after the affirmative answer, he listened a little bit more carefully --he knew who Frank Sinatra was, somewhere on the road of his life he had heard the name, but had never really listened to one of his songs. "Cool", a third man said, "it really goes with the mood right now". The fourth man was about to make a decision and wasn't really listening. "Check", he said. The others answered with a nod of the head or a short knock on the table.

He felt a little tingling on his left arm, starting at the elbow, going all the way up to his fingertips. It was his turn. He reached for his glass with the other hand, took a sip of hazelnut liquor, put the glass on the table and suppressed (not completely) a smile while he said "Raise, four hundred", with a soft, elegant voice. The other ones tried to avoid showing any mood changes and kept "acting normal". After they had all said their stances (three called, one folded), he softly muttered "good" and, for a short moment, an icy blue flare flashed in his eyes.

As they kept playing, the smile on his face started to become more noticeable. It was his turn again, he raised the bet, to six hundred this time. The man left from him was pondering his options. «Come on, call, the pot is huge, you know you could win it all», the man thought. He took another drink from his beer, and, after leaving it on its place again, threw six black chips to the centre of the table. The turn was for the man opposite to him. «It's about time for another drink, your mouth is going dry», the thought went round and round in his head. "I. I. Hmm.. I'll... Hmm Yes, I'll pass... I fold, I mean", and as soon as he was finished with that, he stood up and fetched himself yet another beer. Finally, the last player was next. Starting to lose his temper, he had almost shouted at his neighbour to the right to hurry up and make his mind and to stop drinking before he couldn't think at all. He could clearly see it in his mind, how he suddenly stood up and, without any notice, just beat the crap out of this foolish drunk. But he suppressed the thought and called with equally black six chips.

His eyes flared with more intensiveness as the game kept going.

When they finally finished playing, one of them had almost tripled the money he initially had, another one was so drunk, he couldn't even stand straight, a third one was so angry that was already nervous and shouted every time he opened his mouth.

He, however, had exactly the same amount of money he had begun with, and that eternal faint smile, which clearly revealed that he was the only one who enjoyed the game.

Viciously ever again

2008-11-27T21:32:00.010+01:00

In a thought he thought he walked. While he walked, he talked, and, how much he talked!, he thought.

Walking in the darkness, I strive to find a way out. I hold my hands up front, "the zombie way", I think to myself and laugh for an instant. It must be a funny picture and I can't help but imagine that someone, for some unknown, strange reason, is watching me and laughing his guts out at the scene --there goes a guy, arms fully extended up front, slowly waving in every direction possible, feet taking turns to make ridiculously small steps, each time trembling all over with fear of bumping into something. Well, ok, perhaps it doesn't sound that funny, but I laugh anyway and still I can't avoid walking like that --except when I'm not walking at all because the laughter doesn't let me (I actually have to bend down to my knees to keep from falling because of it.)

Several hundreds of steps later, after falling twice to my knees laughing at myself, I finally reach what it seems to be a door (which is strange, given that I'm out in the open.) When I knock on the door, it's not the muffled sound that surprises me, but the sensation that that's all there is to it. Only a door. No house, no frame, just a door. I look for the handle, feeling the door all over, and, instead, I find a cold metal plate with what feels like a metal lid attached to it by a tiny ball on its top "probably the keyhole lid", I guess. Before I have any concrete thoughts, my curiosity takes over and I try to slide the lid open to one side. It slides, "so it is a lid", I tell myself and my curiosity is temporarily satisfied. I look to one side (not that it would have made a difference, given that I was swimming in a pudding-thick darkness), turn my eyes, turn rapidly to the other side, and take my hands instinctively to my pockets. "Hmm... Damn, I have no keys with me", I take a deep breath and then it comes again.

"Take a peek", he says, and at first I don't even know what's going on. "Come on, take a peek", he repeats. This time I freak out, normally, I hear that voice in my head, not out of it. Yet, there it is, the voice. It is as if someone else was there with me. No. Not someone else. It is as if myself was there with me. It is me who spoke, but. How?..

Light. White light.

The next I know, my right eye is slowly trying to adjust to the light. At the same time, I'm trying to figure out what the hell was that just a moment before. I try to make memory of whatever happened just before now and after me asking myself why was I hearing myself out of me, when the light doesn't blind me anymore and I can clearly see a shadow. I near the keyhole to have a better look and I see some guy, walking with really small steps and waving his fully extended arms in front of him as to not to crash with something.

I swallow a mouthfull of air and open both my eyes as wide as I can while I straighten up in a flash. I try not to think about anything, close the lid quickly, and slowly take a step aside as to give myself some time to digest what is happening. All the while, I keep staring at the door and, suddenly, I hear something approaching. The something comes very slowly towards me.

Closer, closer... Stop

For a moment I don't hear a thing. I hold my air and, just when I start breathing steadily (I'm thinking I somehow already know what's going to happen), I see a faint white light shine.

"Take a peek", I tell myself...

No... Not cool.. Not today anyway

2008-11-26T14:45:00.003+01:00

My earphones lie on top of the table. Now that I think of it, they lie in my ears as well. I don't know what's worse though. When they're lying on the table, I can't seem to be able to concentrate and I miss them. On the other hands, when they lie in my ears, they lie to me, they tell me fantastic stories of people who most probably don't exist and they give me hope. They give me the dangerous kind of hope, the kind I don't need. They give me the hope I want to have.

damn

Let there be sunshine

2008-11-25T08:07:00.006+01:00

I'm going through and through, turning each page with despair. "Where was it?", I ask myself aloud. I remember reading it in one of these books, it has to be in one of them. "Ah, here!", I shout happily while holding a book with both hands (why is it that I always find what I'm looking for in the last place I look for it?)

I start reading aloud the text I finally found. Its words are so familiar that it seems they have always been part of me. As I keep on reading, the letters on the paper start moving, breathing, they seem to be alive. After a while it's not my voice I hear in the room anymore, but the book's. The text is alive and speaking to me, echoing in my head and out of it, in every corner of the World. I close my eyes, or at least I think I do, and everything turns to darkness. Slowly, I stop hearing, feeling, breathing, and a last thought silently soothes me. "So this is how it feels".

In a room, on the floor, lies an open book. A yellowish, warm light enters through the only window. Beside the book, an empty chair and a coffee table stand solemnly. On top of the table an ashtray holds a cigarette, which still lets out a fine thread of smoke, and an almost empty glass with some thick golden liquor in it. It smells sweet, like cloves and hazelnut.

Everything seems quite normal, just a minute ago someone was reading here. What was he reading though, is hard to tell. All the letters in the book are scrambled and only a few words can be made out.

Let there be sunshine

Newspaper poet...

2008-11-24T08:11:00.005+01:00

"Sun"
"shining"
"on"

Hmm... Where is it?... Give me a "the", come on... Ah, there

"the"

Aaaaaaaaaand, snow

"snow"

Ok, perhaps not the best I've made so far, but it's ok, I guess. This is my own way of writing, this is how I like to spend my free time. I like finding something beautiful in the everyday life, and I like sharing it with others. It is refreshing indeed, I wonder how many people read this. Oh well, no biggie if there are only a couple of them. I just love doing this, and you can find used newspapers everywhere. People just read them and then toss them away, thank goodness...

Silence

2008-11-23T01:43:00.003+01:00

As I lay my cup of coffee down on the table I raise my eyes to find you looking at me. We stay like that a few seconds, then I turn towards the lake and let out a sigh. I don't need to see your face to know you're smiling. Without turning around, I reach for my cup of coffee and, on the way, our fingers meet each other --just like the world, it is a small table we're sitting at. My fingers caress yours. Your fingers kiss mine. We, through our hands, engage in a passionate kissing session which might not be suitable for under-age spectators. We let go, not really wanting to, and reach for our respective cups. I take a sip of coffee and listen to the slight breeze shaking the leaves on the surrounding trees --I know you also love that sound.

After emptying our cups, our hands reach out for each other and lay together on the table.

Sometimes silence draws us even closer than we already are...

It's the blues, man.

2008-11-21T08:03:00.002+01:00

I'm usually a quiet person, ain't talking 'bout myself too often. My feelings? No, man, definitely not. It's only with a few brothers that I can speak about 'em. But when I hear the music man, then it's all a different story. A whole different thing. I get goosebumps on my arms an' my spine, know what I'm talking 'bout? Oh, and then the harmonica. When I take the harmonica in my hands, man. That's a new world, like I'm crossing some kind of portal to another dimension. I just close my eyes and take the harmonica to my mouth 'n I speak my soul out. It comes from here, ya' know? It starts right here, at the center of my stomach and goes up. I can feel it, with my eyes closed I can even see it, all my soul pouring like some strange glowing liquid, haha. And it comes all the way up and it moves me, it's that which plays, you see? It's not me, I just let go and my soul moves my body, my shoulders start shaking to the music and my hands and my mouth just start playing by themselves, as if they had a life of their own. Through the harmonica I am myself completely.

Filosofando ando

2008-11-20T10:44:00.005+01:00

Filosof.ando por los sinuosos caminos del pensamiento, con sofás de doble filo, fieles aliados en mi interminable viaje, cortando la maleza de caos; con.ciencia abriendo paso a mi ser, dejando que sea, absorbiendo el caos que, finalmente, es el origen de las estrellas.

Please

2008-11-20T08:03:00.009+01:00

On a world of magic, where everything is possible, you came to me as I came to you. We said hello, we talked a bit. I bought a pie, from which you stole a bite and, just when I was about to tell you "what the hell?", I met your eye. I moved my lips, or at least I tried, you came a bit closer and I felt I'd die. From your lips I hung, I must confess, suddenly there was no world outside your face. My mind was at loss, I didn't know what to do --why, let go, of course, don't be such a loo! So I just let be and, like a magnet of sorts, just as honey to a bee, you and me, and me and you, and your lips on me, then my lips on you --oh sweet mouth, oh sweet kiss.

Please, let it last, please, I'll do anything you say, please just don't let me wake...

The tree of wishes

2008-11-19T10:31:00.004+01:00

He could already see it, "the tree of wishes", he whispered to himself. It had been a long way up there, but somehow he didn't feel tired at all. It was as if he had just begun walking. Had it not been for the movement of the Sun and the stars, he wouldn't really know that time had at all passed.

As he neared the tree, the brownish, dusty path began fading and giving way to all kinds of little plants and grass, green, soft grass. A soft glow seemed to come out of the tree and the music of leaves and branches came to him when a sudden breeze passed by. He noticed he had, somewhere up the road, stopped walking. Still he moved, hovering, pulled by some invisible magnetic force towards the glowing tree. On the sky, a murder, like a huge black cloud, flew back and forth cawing chaotically, filling the air with a storm of shouts.

Finally, he got to the tree, "finally", he whispered to himself once more. As he reached to touch it, the black cloud of crows settled on the tree's branches and stopped cawing, the breeze calmed down until the air was totally still, besides his heart's thumps not a sound could be heard. He started glowing in the same golden tone as the tree itself. The tree's trunk seemed to stretch and reach for his fingers.

A slight touch, barely a caress. Black, oblivion. Everything ceased to exist for a couple of seconds. A vision, a thought; no, all thoughts. A sound, the sound of all sounds together, the light of all light together; light and no-light, sound and no-sound. That which is...

The loss

2008-11-19T08:02:00.004+01:00

Crazy, delusional, through a field of thoughts I walk. With every step I feel as if I were floating on some silvery liquid, which doesn't wet me, but evaporates at the touch of my bare feet. The soft fragrance of a distant melody reaches my ears, I close my eyes and, as I concentrate on the sounds, a myriad images, some of them memories of past things, some of things yet to come, crawl through my nose with every breath.

This is what my life has come to. Unable to distinguish between dreams and reality, I see people where there are none, I think just blurry images and imagine incomplete thoughts. I don't know where I am anymore.

The way in is through

2008-11-18T10:48:00.005+01:00

His eyes, dark as onyx, were fixed on her. She couldn't move, couldn't talk or even think clearly. All there was, was darkness. Darkness embraced her, as a snaring cloud of thick smoke. Slowly crawling in between the ever less light that reached her glassys, mixed with the air she breathed; slowly, ever so slightly, he intoxicated her senses, her being.

All her attempts at resistance were futile and, so, finally, she couldn't resist anymore. Her soul, now completely wrapped in twilight, shone as strongly as ever. It was as if, through his glistening black eyes, she had fallen into a deep abyss, a place of suck an intense bleakness that she felt there was no room for anything else; senses obscured, nothing to see, breathe or hear, the only thing to feel was this strong oppression on her heart. And suddenly, as if she had found a portal to another dimension, every single part of her was able to sense the world with such intensity. She opened her every sense to experiment this new universe of hers. She wanted to embrace it all, she was light and wanted to illuminate everything which existed. She wanted to mix herself with the air, the light, the sounds, the warmth; took a deep breath, exhaled and let go, illuminating and warming everything she touched.

On the background, as a crow flew past, his laughter was heard.

Now

2008-11-18T08:50:00.000+01:00

These are dark days...

The dark days of the soul.

Madness

2008-11-17T12:40:00.009+01:00

She's an image, an illusion,
the portrait of perfection.
She shines, flies, strives,
in a pool of darkness she dives.

He comes from darkness,
her nature resides in light.
But light can't be felt
and darkness can't be held.

He's an idea, a thought,
the core of what she sought.
He deepens, Stygian as he is,
the reflections of all that lives.

He comes from darkness,
her nature resides in light.
If they were to combine,
the product would be madness.

Dialogs with The Devil

2008-11-17T08:19:00.003+01:00

Man: So... You're The Devil
Devil: Well... Yeeeeh, yes... yeah... aha.. yep, that would be me.
Man: I see... I thought you were red and had horns and a tail... And goat legs...
Devil: ~~ So much as you being the most intelligent species on Earth.
Man: Excuse me?
Devil: Nevermind. Those are just cliches, stereotypes... As you see, I'm nothing like that.
Man: Yeah, I see...
~ Silence ~
Man: So... You're going to torture me or something?
Devil: No
Man: Offer me Earthly power and happiness in exchange for my soul?
Devil: Not quite.
Man (pensively): hmm...
Devil: You want all that, right?
Man: Hmm.. Yeah, actually I do.
Devil: So you haven't noticed... huh?
Man: What are you talking about? What haven't I noticed?
Devil: Ok... Earthly power you say? Have you not noticed who is the dominant species on the planet? Earthly happiness? Come on! Sodom and Gomorrah are heavenly cities in comparison to today's societies. I mean... Are you sure you need me to give you those things? Your perversion goes as far as of being in a position of power over other humans through Religion! And not only that, you (laughs) make (laughs some more) wars in the name of God!!!
Man: They are not wars in his name. I was simply trying to bring my fellow humans to reason.
Devil: Oh yeah, God gives you freedom of choice and you take it away. Very magnanimous from you. So what if other men don't want to have the same beliefs than you? Who are you to force them to change?
Man: I was just worried for their souls.
Devil (laughing again): So you tortured them!
Man: Hm.. well... ehmm...
Devil (laughing loudly): And burned them alive!!! Genius!
Man: No, wait. Those were people who adored you.
Devil: Ah, of course, good old witches and some visionaries... You're sick.
Man: Sick? You're The Devil! It's mostly because of you that bad things happen here!!!
Devil: Wait a minute sonny. Be mostly careful with what you're saying. You know what was my gift for you?
Man: Yes, you tricked us into eating the fruit of Good and Evil, the fruit of Wisdom; you promised us that we would be as powerful as God himself!
Devil: Oh? So you're accepting your gilt of a deadly sin before my intrusion? Had you not greed, even before I tricked you? For it was your greed, envy and vanity which actually did the job for me. I just asked.
Man: No, you tricked us!
Devil: Yes, you think that, evade your responsibility, that's what I'm here for. But before you go on, stop a minute and review once more what happened after eating that fruit. What was of you before, and what became later. Is it not self awareness what you achieved? Were you not living like any other animal in the world, naked, without differencing between you and everything else? Was it not until after eating from the fruit that you gained self awareness? Is it not that self awareness which makes you so unique in comparison with other species? And, if you look back at it now, would you rather know nothing and live happily ignorant?
Man: But you are evil! You did that out of jealosy!
Devil: There you are wrong again, for I love humanity and I do much for you. I admire you and amuse myself at your creativity, that special ability of yours to complicate even the most simple of facts. On the other hand, I must say, I am only doing my part on The Great Plan. Do you really still think that God, being almighty, all knowing and all that, wouldn't know how everything was going to happen? I wasn't rebelling, I was fulfilling my task, the whole meaning of my existence is to guide you through life. I'm not bad, nor good. I am circumstances, I am God as much as you are, for we are both creation of his. I am abstract, something you can't touch, but can name; I am there to remind you about your responsibility to the world in which you live. Never forget that.
Man: I hadn't ever thought of it that way.
Devil: Some of you know, but they are rather few, and from them few, a handfull use that knowledge to gain power over other humans. You should stop and think who is the real evil entity here. You or Me.
~ Silence ~
Devil: Think about that.

Firefly

2008-11-16T13:08:00.005+01:00

She speaks in music
the contents of her soul.
Her feelings, her wishes,
as liquid sound she pours them all.

A bright star with a tail of light,
the firefly swims at night,
her soul, a silver knife
cuts the darkness, spreading life.

I fly, feel, breathe, and drink;
in the liquor of her being I live.
With her music I intoxicate my heart,
With my music I intend to reach her heart.

Meaning...

2008-11-12T15:43:00.007+01:00

Light

That was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. Then he saw a fireball pass by really fast. Then another, and then some more, until he definitely lost count of them. The light was still everywhere, he thought, at first, that it was only the blinding effect of perceiving light after a long time of darkness. However, now he noticed the light was everywhere, there even seemed to be no ground nor heaven. He tried turning right and then left, but nothing would happen. Suddenly, his orientation sense got crammed, for there seemed to be no up, down, left or right...

Instinct dictated he should close his eyes and, unknowingly, turned somehow spongy. The effect was that, which he had wished for, namely, all he could see became blurry, as if muffled by some kind of filter isolating him from the outside world. It was not until some time had passed, that he actually thought of himself. Isolated from the outside, limiting his interaction with everything which isn't himself, he finally relaxed a little and questions started popping in his mind. It was then, when he first grasped the idea of form --which form did he have?

After feeling himself and probing how he physically was, he discovered he was exactly as the same as the other fireballs that hovered pass by before. Feeling a little bit more confident, he opened the eyes he did not have, turning his spongy exterior for a harder one, thus revealing a sharper sense of all that surrounded him. He paid attention to what the others were doing (hovering there and back) and didn't understand a thing that was happening. His form didn't have any meaning at all, as well as everything else. Hard as he tried, he just couldn't make sense of anything at all. He thought of asking someone what was all this about. Everything went dead suddenly, and, not an instant had passed, when everything turned another color, but which one, he couldn't tell. Not knowing what to do, he started to despair, everything was so chaotic. He tried following what seemed to be a group of fireballs moving together just to find out later that they weren't together and some of them even puffed into some sort of brilliant smoke clouds.

A fireball finally passed near him and he was able to ask what was happening. What the other fireball let him know didn't help at all though...

The lack of comprehension was building inside him a huge sense of anxiety, and when this anxiety became too big to bear, he suddenly got the feeling that he was going to explode. Not knowing what to do, without a clue of what or why he was, he started hovering around without any destiny in particular. This hovering around seemed to cool him down and so, he hovered some more, always with increased speed. The cooling down caused by the hovering suddenly became the only thing meaningful. Now he at least understood one thing: he needed to hover around like crazy... Immediately after grasping this, another enlightening came to him, now he knew why everyone else was hovering around...

Afterwards he kept hovering, kept existing, some other things he came to understand, and some he did not.

Meaning...

2008-11-12T15:39:00.001+01:00

How do you feel when you can't understand something?

Marzipan

2008-11-06T23:03:00.011+01:00

D.

Bitter, but not disgusting. Just the right amount. I feel the slightly lemony vodka tonic, its million bubbles exploding everywhere in my mouth. The straw loses contact with my lips and the glass returns slowly to the bar. A sudden rush of air comes out of my mouth in form of a sigh, I turn right and there she is. A black, sleeveless dress, leaving not much to the imagination, white, somewhat tanned skin, straight blondish hair falling gracefully just down the ears, glasses, a most attractive face; «perfect», I tell myself. I take another sip of vodka tonic, she's surrounded by people, laughing, drinking, talking; she looks so happy.

--More salt sticks?
The barman, who had already noticed how I was looking at her, tells me while putting a new glass full of salt sticks in front of me.

--Marcelina. He said.
--Wha.. Sorry?
--The girl, her name is Marcelina.
--Oh, the... girl.. How did you? Was I too?... Nevermind...

The bartender laughs and keeps on serving the other clients, by the time he comes back he tells me she's having some kind of farewell party. She used to work here too, but now she has some things to do abroad and, well... She's leaving tomorrow morning.

I order a second vodka tonic and more salt sticks to kill time. I turn once again, resigned to look at her from afar and, after searching between all the faces, can't find her. «Must've gone to the restroom», I think and go back to my salt sticks.

M.

Oh God... Now how do I get away from here? I know, I know, it's my party. I'm leaving tomorrow morning and I should be enjoying myself. I know.

--Hey! Marcelina! Come here, look what we've got you

Great! They're all happy and enjoying themselves and... Well, actually I'm having fun too, but... Who's that guy?

--Yes, yes, I'm coming... Give me a sec. I'll just return this glass to the bar.

Phew, ok, now I just have to trip while taking this stupid glass and I'll have some excuse to talk to him. Okay, walking now. I hope he doesn't suddenly turn round.

--Oops! haha, almost dropped it... Sorry.
«Damn, he didn't even turn around»

--No problem, do you want something else? Or are you just returning the glass?
--I... I think I'll have a vodka tonic, please.
«Hm, what now? Should I sit right next to him? or not? Think, THINK. Oh, hell I sat. And I'm next to him, oh hell, oh hell... He doesn't even turn around»

--Heere you go, vodka tonic.
--Thanks

D.

She's here. She came here. Well, follow the rules, don't turn to see her. Just keep it cool man.

--So, how's it going? The man on the bar.
--Oh well, not great. Got dumped some months ago and since, I just haven't met anyone else. Not one whom I'd like to know deeper, you know?
--Yeh, shit happens man.
--Yes. It does happen. Anyway, I'm not complaining. It's just... Well, man wasn't made to live alone you know? And sometimes I don't even know if I'm ever going to find the right one.
--Yeh, I know what you feel. What? A large pils? Yes, a moment. Yes, 3€, ok.. Thankyou, see you soon. Oh, hi! Do you want something? Or are you just returning the glass?

Vodka tonic! What are the odds? And she sat right by my side. Damn she's pretty! I wonder if I should say something.. Would she talk to me if I tried?

--Hey man! But... You know? I mean... Things happen man... Don't worry, you'll find something. I mean, look at me, 30, single, still dating, you know? Just live man...
--Yes, yes, that's the point. I know something will come. It always happens, and always when I'm not expecting it. Anyway... I'd just like to start again, you know? From scratch...
--Yeah dude. Yeah, totally... Wait, give me a sec. Be right back, have to keep up, you know.

So... Ok... Now I'm alone, with her. If I want to meet her, now's the time. Just.. Turn and say hi. That's all. Turn and say hi.

--Hi
«God!, what a lame "hi"»

M. & D.

--Hi back
«Cool, after all, he does know I'm here»
--I'm David, I... It's the first time I come here... Nice bar, huh?
--Yes, nice.
«Haha, his hair on his forehead.. Kind of sweet»
--Sooo... You come... Often?
--Hmm.. you could say so. I used to work here.
--Ah, you worked here, I see... Cool.
--Yes, I liked it a lot.. Great people here, friendly all of them.. A little bit too happy perhaps. hihihi
--Yes, haha...
*** silence ***
--So... When are you leaving?
«Damn! Fucking idiot! Now she'll know you talked about her»
--What?
«How does he...?»
--Hmyeah! I, uhm... Heard something about it, yeh...
--Aaaha.
«Well, well, well»
--Ok, ok... I was looking at you and the bartender, this great, remarkable man here, noticed and told me one or two things.
--Is that so? And, what precisely did he tell you?
--Hum... yeeeaaahhh.. Well... stuff, you know?
«Damn... Now what do I do?»
--Haha, ok, stuff... So.. Anyway, I guess I should get back to my friends, you know?
«Aaaaaand?? Come on, come on! Ask me for my number!»
--Yeh, go have fun.
«Ask her for her number, ask her! Damn, she's standing up...»
** Silence **
--Hm, hey! Wait.
--Yes?
--Hmm.. Maybe... You'll come back someday? Perhaps we could go out for a coffe or something...
«Haha, yeah, right... If she still has the same number...»
--Yeah, perhaps we could.
«Hasn't aaaasked...»
--So... uhmm... Give you my number?
«Yes, great, that's way better. Now she can call me... If she wants»
--Yeah, great idea. Wait a minute
«Hmm... I won't call him... What is he thinking?»
--Cero, one, seven, six, six, six, haha, yes, I know, hahahaha... Three, cero, two, one.
--Cool. Thanks
«Great, he didn't ask for mine... Damn, perhaps I will have to call... Damn, damn, damn»
--Oh, know what? You can call me now, so I get your number.
«Yes, the best phrases come out without thinking»
--Ok. Good idea.

D.

She calls, hangs up, I store the number and ask her name again, just that she doesn't get the impression that I'm some kind of stalker. She then gets up and goes back to her friends. Meanwhile I finish my drink, look at her a while more, occasionally catching her eye and baring a little smile. Then I pay and leave the bar not knowing if I'll ever see her again.

M.

Ok, so it was a strange way of asking for my number. Very... Polite. Strange. Well, he has it now, that's what mattered. I wonder if he'll call though. Oh, we'll see. I hope he will.. He seemed interesting. Perhaps... Yes.. Maybe...

My questions for you

2008-11-06T10:52:00.004+01:00

What if God didn't create everything?
What if there is no God?

Then what?
How did it all happen?
How does it all still happen?

What if we, together with all that is were the creators?
The idea is not that different from that of a God-being.
In fact, it's just another point of view. One much more evolved and much broader too.

It is not a single entity with some definite form, who lives in a definite place and thinks as a single being.
But the different interactions , agreements and disagreements of all that exists.
Every single bit creating something. Like an orchestra, where everybody creates a little part, and together they create a whole.

What if we are responsible for everything we do?
Would we still have the need for a Devil? A Hell?
What if we faced our consequences directly? Would we notice when we do something "wrong"?

What if there wasn't a God and a Devil and we were the only ones to blame for all good and bad that exists?
What if there wasn't a God and we were to rely on ourselves to overcome our problems?
What if there wasn't a Devil and we were to face the consequences of our misdeeds in life and not after we died?

Enough

2008-11-06T10:39:00.002+01:00

Someone told me once that the right man for her is a man who doesn't seat and complain. He stands up and fights, never gives up.

So enough complaining about the world. Enough stating what I think is wrong and why... Too many people do that already, and they only get angry and cause more anger on people who disagree...

As of now, I shall state what I believe in a different, better way.

sigh...

2008-11-06T10:25:00.004+01:00

So yeah... God said "thou shallst love thy fellow man", and based on that it is derivable that peace is highly valued and so on... But could anyone tell me what God said about ecology? Did he ever say "thou shallst not pollute or damage thy environment"? NO! And why? I mean, it's also part of his creation... Shouldn't it be equally regarded?

And what about other things like overpopulation? or gene manipulation?

And how many people know that only 144,000 souls are to go to heaven? (as written in The Bible), and why do children have to be baptized? Ok, so they're still paying for the Original Sin (the one committed by Adam and Eve); I thought Jesus had just been sacrificed in order to pay for all of humanity's sins... Was his sacrifice useless then?

And why is that the only way? What about the other religions? They're good people too, they try their best to live peacefully and respectfully and so on... Why are some wrong and some right?

Is it just me? Why are there so many people who just can't see how stupid this all is? Everything that religions achieve is war, hatred, racism, cultural clashes, suffering, lose of knowledge and scientifical research... Just so a bunch of men may have power over other men...

Come ON! It shouldn't be that difficult to see!

What if?

2008-11-04T17:37:00.003+01:00

What if I choose to keep on moving?

Take your chances?

Yes, exactly... Take my chances.

What if it goes wrong?

Then it'll go wrong...

Hmmm... So you're not afraid.

Never

GOSH! How I laughed with this...

2008-11-04T00:49:00.000+01:00

The Soul Eater

2008-10-31T14:40:00.003+01:00

Fatal, unstoppable, the soul eater makes his way through the masses, walks ineffably towards his one and only goal: devoure more souls. As it happens, he has just found one.

Moving with the precision of a natural hunter, he corners his pray until there's no exit possible and all hint of hope is totally lost. Once this happens, the terrible Soul Eater takes his victim with his enormous hands and, with amazing skill, desembodies it's soul. The victim's outer shell, like a hollow body, lies torned over what would've been it's backside in other, happier, times.

The monstrous being devoures, with infinite patience, every bit of soul he's now got in his hands. The taste of every bite, makes his whole face lighten up, as if he were enjoying the bliss of heaven itself. And once he's done, he still takes his fingers to his mouth, in order to suck until the last drop of escence --waste not!

The scene is herrlich*, Hunter squatting on the floor, empty corpse on one side --curiously, there's no trace of suffering anywhere to be found. Some time passes by, during which the Soul Eater still enjoys the taste of his last meal on his mouth. Then, terrible as it is, this apparently cruel, heartless monster, opens his mouth and his thunder of a voice makes all the sorrounding things vibrate in terror...

I want more cookies, he says.

Then crushes the now empty cookie box and throws it into the waste bin.

Worte merken...

2008-10-24T21:32:00.001+02:00

duck, teapot, opium den,

map, steeple,

maske, bühne, digitaluhr, bürste,

pilz

Feuertropfen

2008-10-22T21:12:00.008+02:00

Hey, hey

Fire drops falling from the sky. Every single one of them falls on my skin and finds its way through to the very core of my soul.

What've you got?

Every single one of them... Burning, burning like hell. And yet, they are ice cold.

Doesn't matter to me 'cause I don't want them

Funny feeling, my hands, starting with my fingertips, are going totally numb. My flesh burns. Or freezes? I can't tell the difference anymore.

I'm not the only one

«Breathe» I keep running.

Didn't get any inspiration at all...

2008-10-22T09:01:00.001+02:00

So I give you a link :)

http://www.altalang.com/beyond-words/2008/10/12/ten-most-difficult-words-to-translate

Enjoy :)

Sleepy

2008-10-21T23:08:00.001+02:00

Just sleepy.

And a little bit anxious.

Hope tomorrow I can write sth interesting :)

All I do, I can still feel you...

2008-10-21T06:41:00.002+02:00

Though, lately, I'm not so sure anymore... Perhaps this time was something else.

Maybe so.

And so it ends...

2008-10-19T23:11:00.003+02:00

She loves me not, and I love her still.

Exactly as it begun

Just asking

2008-10-17T11:44:00.004+02:00

- I heard you're the devil

- Nah, nah... I'm not. Who told you?

- Hmm, well, you know... People

- I see. Nah, They lied.

- Ok, just wanted to make sure.

- Yeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhh... No biggie...

- So, tell me... What would you say if I told you can have anything you want? Do everything you've ever dreamed of, and more....

Fox in the Snow

2008-10-15T08:20:00.003+02:00

Friendship moves in misterious ways. It doesn't matter where you are, how you feel, what are you doing... Sometimes, it just gets where you are and tells you you're not alone.

Danke Catarina :)

Frozen Wishie

2008-10-13T14:33:00.003+02:00

He slowly walked towards the grass. Each one of the tiny green needles was covered in a thin coat of frosting. He got there, took his shoes off, then his socks, put them in the shoes and, after lifting both shoes with his left hand, stepped into the green patch.

Every step felt wonderful, he closed his eyes and listened to the slightly crushing sound produced each time he'd break the frost with his feet. A tingling sensation would come now and then; between the toes, on the slight arch formed in the middle of each foot, on the heels. After a few steps though, his toes started to go numb. He opened his eyes and kept walking. The view hadn't changed much, still the frosted grass, still some trees, and to his right a dried-up dandelion. He went that way, crouched and, though normally he would blow it to send all the tiny seeds flying through the air, touched it ever so gently. It's frozen darts, whiter and thicker than ever, were a fantastic view. Too pretty to destroy it, he left it as it was, stood up and walked to a nearby tree. The grass and soil under its shadow was, naturally, colder than the rest. That seemed a good place.

That would do.

He took his sweater off, then his shirt, then squatted on the spot. His jeans got wet almost instantaneously. A sad, chilly sensation invaded him. He sighed, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to conentrate on that frosty feeling. All the loneliness in his life was concentrating in himself. He thought of the dried-up dandelion. He was the dried-up dandelion, standing alone in a world of frost and grass and pale light. With this image in his head, he layed down on on his back. The chill was almost painful, he felt it go all the way from the soil, to the grass, to the frost, to his skin, through his bones, to his heart.

Yes. This is a good place.

This will do.

He kept his eyes closed. Drew breath, exhaled, and let go.

I wish...

...

2008-10-12T09:22:00.001+02:00

I stopped hating you... Don't know how it happened.

Orlyx

2008-10-11T00:58:00.003+02:00

Si bien el morbo es curiosidad, curioso es que la curiosidad no es necesariamente morbo.

En un verso --porque decir universo es limitar lo.que.es y negar que lo.que.es no es multiverso y viceversa-- en el que ambos se interpolan, capaz soy de sentir curiosidad sin sentir morbo e incapaz soy de sentir morbo sin sentir curiosidad. Y ya que estamos en tema de limitar, limítome a describir curiosidad como un hambre más allá que acá, tirándole al lado intelectual más que al esencial y morbo como una sed más acá que allá, quedándose más en el lado esencial; el morbo, siendo así, una agujita que toca y mueve cuerdas más relacionadas con el ser que con el pensar. Casidríamos decir que hay una pequeña línea de oceánicas proporciones dividiendo a lo uno de lo otro... (gracias (por leer))

Nota.- Si no eres Orlyx, probablemente no entenderás mucho de lo que se dijo
Nota2.- Si eres Orlyx, probablemente lo entenderás la primera vez que lo leas, pero después lo olvidarás ;)

Inertia

2008-10-09T22:45:00.003+02:00

Sometimes, when you start something, it is just impossible to stop. Like a pebble sliding on ice, your actions keep you going and going, until you eventually crash with something bigger.

Two days ago I closed a circle in my life. That was the initial impulse. Today, two days after the first push, the inertia took me with all its might and I closed yet another circle.

It has already begun, and it won't stop until I hit with a wall.

Someday, I will get you back.

Closing circles

2008-10-07T13:18:00.002+02:00

As I already said once, time is an illusion, a mere political agreement, by which humans in a society interact with each other. That said, we have that time doesn't exist as such and, while it sets a standard for most activites, it doesn't necessarily has the same effect on each person. Thus, regarding experiences, ideas, way of thinking, moral values, etc... people move at different speeds. These can, however, be measured.

Cycles, opposite to what one may think, have a beginning and an end. The interaction between two or more humans can be measured in cycles; one individual starts some interaction with another one, and keeps on going until some objective is fullfilled. Success in reaching the goal of a specific cycle is what I call "closing a circle". Now, cycles don't have much to do with the political concept of time. An interrupted cycle may stay in that state for an indefinite amount of time until it is closed --say, either the objective is fullfilled, or by other means like psychotherapies.

Today I closed a circle.

Thanks everybody... thanks :)

The man with the hat [ I ]

2008-10-06T12:13:00.002+02:00

«Finally, some rest»

«Yes, you deserved that already»
«This one was kind of tough. Tough is good. The effect will last a little longer»
«But not long enough. You know that»
«I know, it keeps getting worse»

The mutilated rests of what appeared to have been once a man rested scattered on the long grown grass. Except for a few insects and perhaps one or two wild animals, not a soul was there to be seen. There was plenty of time, and much to be done.

«How many Trents still alive?»
«371 on this town»
«Good, let's finish this one already... I'm getting hungry»
«Yeh»

The procedure was not simple. The first thing to do was to heavily drug the Trent (or Alex, depending on the case) in order to keep him alive and conscious as long as possible. The drugs should not, in any case, make him numb, their solely purpose was to render him immobile. Then the Trent would have to be undressed, taking care of stealing whatever money he could have, cleaning every piece of metal and disposing of the rest with the clothes. Not a single drop of blood should be dropped until the Trent was already on the ground. Once naked and on the ground, he would be cut into pieces --starting at the feet, trying to keep him alive and suffering as much as possible-- and the flesh was to be ripped off of the bones. Identifiable body parts, such as teeth and fingers, were treated with special care --teeth, actually, were disposed apart, thrown to the ocean or buried in a graveyard. Finally, three piles were made, one with the clothes, one with the bones and one with the flesh. Everything was then soaked with gasoline and set on fire. The bones and other parts which weren't consumed by the it were to be buried on different spots and no less than two meters underground.

The whole thing was disgusting and he always ended throwing up. But also, temporarily relieved.

This is how it goes

2008-10-06T11:00:00.002+02:00

First I'm stupid and fuck up. You tell me you want to be with me. You still have hope.
Then I realise how stupid I was and try to make it up. Now you have it back. And not only back, but better. So what do you do? You tell me you don't want it anymore.
I'm hurt, deeply hurt. My heart and soul severed by your actions until a point where I can't stand it anymore. I can't give you anything more, I get insanely mad and what do you do? You tell me I'm ruining everything and you still had hope with me...

Honestly! How fucked up is that?

Quiero olvidar

2008-09-30T10:31:00.001+02:00

Daría cualquier cosa por no sentir nada por tí

-.-

2008-09-29T08:17:00.001+02:00

I'm beginning to hate you

Ode to absurdity

2008-09-28T13:15:00.001+02:00

http://animalnewyork.com/news/2008/09/just-in-case-god-isnt-in-your.php

The last goodbye

2008-09-28T12:51:00.001+02:00

They say you have to let go. If she comes back, she loves you. If she doesn't, she was never yours...

My mistake

2008-09-28T10:54:00.004+02:00

Lying on a bed of green
I feel myself slowly fade.
Everything I have been
inevitably goes away.

I made a big mistake,
a wrong decision is all it takes,
to throw my life away
to throw my life away

As I close my I's,
I only think of you.
As consciousness dies,
my last thought is of you.

Love you as much as I may,
a wrong decision is all it takes,
to throw my life away
to throw my life away

Another chance is what I wanted,
for it I fought and panted.
"It's too late", you said,
"our love is as good as dead".

Tears don't fall

2008-09-26T14:52:00.005+02:00

...

"Would she hear me, if I called her name?

Would she hold me, if she knew my shame?"

...

- Bullet for my Valentine -

.

2008-09-25T22:34:00.001+02:00

There's not much time left now...

my fragile self

2008-09-25T22:14:00.003+02:00

So here I am, sitting in front of you... Thinking, watching. It's a funny feeling, watching you, knowing you don't know I'm there.

You look so close, so real... I almost think I can feel you if I simply reach out with my hand. I decide not to try. I don't need this. I left... You left... We both did.

I made myself invisible, untouchable --perhaps unreachable would be the correct term. It's under heavy camouflage that I keep my watch on you. I must confess I can't resist it, your memory hunts me every single day. That's why I see you.

You've become my very personal angel of death. I dare not touch you, I dare not look too deep into my memories, I dare not think of you... of us.

This, now, is the eye of the tornado, the calm before the storm. I'm on a truce, the final truce... It'll soon be over, our final encounter is to come. I'm just sorry I know I won't be prepared. And I'm quite sure that I'll suffer the worse losses.

I see you again, you look so calm. It's all so calm... It's almost as if we'd never even met.

Just as if we'd never even met...

Royalty...

2008-09-25T22:00:00.005+02:00

I've got to write.

Tell me.

I want to write.

I want to read.

But what should I say?

Whatever you want :)

What's left for me to say?

I'm empty...

I'm sorry to hear that...

Yeh, well...
..
Why on Earth are you blue?

El Ego

2008-09-25T17:28:00.001+02:00

...
es una bestia comehombres
...

Eternally

2008-09-25T15:48:00.002+02:00

... and I turn slowly to my left hand. My empty eyes, black as unconsciousness, meet with what it seems to be the ashen rests of a broken heart. I realise suddenly that I should cry; I'd like to cry. My mouth opens as to start letting a stream of words flow to it, but it closes as soon as it opened, letting no sound escape. I sigh and, without moving my hand, I turn my head up again and walk. My expression is completely void of life, the other persons, if any, that look at me find only emptyness. As I keep my slow pace, looking everything, watching everyone, thinking nothing, feeling even less, I get a glimpse of dim light. It lasts just the tiniest millisecond. And it is during this eternity that the once ashen heart, dead on my left hand, comes to life again, pumping the juice of life through my veins...

For the tiniest lapse of time there, I felt I'm not permanently dead.

It's alive!