Eyes and Sighs and breaking those lies...

I could stare at you all day and have my eyes spit poison at you.
The thing we most have in common is that we've both become people we used to hate, except looking at ourselves, we don't hate ourselves all that much. We hate each other.

That passionate hatred which masks a passionate torrent of other feelings, of other loves, of other desires... all wraps round us, binds us. Bonds us.

Were our wrists tied with something stronger than string, were our ankles bound by something better than lace and feeble wool... then we might stand a fighting chance. But we fight the bonds, we fight the bonds for a freedom of movements and freedom of thought that we do not have. We fight the bonds for the freedom to hurt each other, because we are evenly matched, because we know the pain.

Knead each other... for our bodies are malleable even if our prides are not.
Your burning need for me to need you
My burning need for you to need me
- and a confession that will never come.

Who's "-moi-"? But that you, that was beautiful. However;

 

I'll refrase; Is his beauty only skin deep?

 

Beauty

Is beauty only skin deep?

"when she lies in you warm arms, don't think of me"

Suddenly...

So it's 35 steps to the end of the street. 23 steps and a turn left to the bus stop. 
I closed my eyes and tried to sympathise with someone blind and it's not easy. I didn't last the first 20 steps, mainly due to the careless dog owners. So I stopped, opened my eyes and made my way over to the shelter to wait.

 

While I was walking - staring into space as one does - and heading down the narrow sidewalk to the bus stop.

 

A guy was walking up. A male, about 20, one of the Cape Verde immigrants in a black basketball shirt and shorts, bright bandanna round his head, new tennis shoes - the only thing I really noticed. He swung his body to either side as he walked... like most males with that kind of attitude that screams "Hell yeah bro, I'm cool". I don't know who he was, I couldn't tell you if I've ever seen him before and I wouldn't be able to tell you if I ever see him again. What I do know is that as I moved up closer against the wall to give him space to pass, he moved closer to me and said what I presume were obscenities in my ear. It's not an accent I understand well.
 
Hey Beautiful.
I'd do you.
I'd eat you.
I know just what you need.
 
You may know what I need, my lovelies.... but I won't be the first to tell you that you're not the ones to give it to me.
I swear it may be violent but I'm so disgusted by half of these pathetic losers that the only thing I want to do half the time is put a bullet through them. Okay, that's a tad extreme. I don't hate men. I hate desperate men. I had the sad pitiful states they walk around in. I hate the way sex and I won't even go that far; I hate the way contact - everyday innocent contact - can deprive these people of the most basic and fundamental emotional development, physical development.
A child is ignored in kindergarten.
He looks funny. He sounds funny. He wears glasses. He's short. He's shy.
This may or may not follow him throughout his life… but many times that's all that's needed.
Mother doesn't want her boy to get dirty… to run around or mix.
Whatever it may be… it always starts small. It always starts young.

 

It's not that these boys don't try. Of course they do – and I say boys because girls aren't the same in that aspect.
These boys try but for them it'll never be quite like all the other boys.

 

This is one possible side. This is the side of external rejection… the being overlooked.
Then they go through puberty and they start forgetting about monster trucks and lego [or whatever it is that little boys think about] and start focusing on the fact that they aren't like everyone else.

 

Now if my anger were a bit stronger I'd rant about how the idea sickens me… Focusing more on the guy who approached me today… I can't really write out how repulsed I felt by that one male today. It's one male today, it's five males when wolf whistling out of car windows – pickup trucks most of the time, feels like bloody Kansas – if I ever dare doll myself up a bit, and heaven forbid a skirt, a top when it's hotter…
Makeup becomes war paint and suddenly I'm an Amazon.

 

 

NOT

I'm not like you wanted me to be.
I'm not who you thought I was.
I'm not your sister, I sure as hell am not your mother.
I'm NOT your girlfriend.
I'm NOT your best friend.
I'm not your worst friend - your neighbour - your acquaintance.
I'm NOT your problem solver.
I'm not your SCRATCH POST,
I'm not your Pet. I'm not your Toy.

Your babe, your girl, your friend - I am not.

I'm not your fountain of youth.

I am not an Amazon.

I am not a Tiger or a Pussy Cat.

I'm not your release, your escape, your pram-pusher.

I'm not your soul mate,

I am not your team mate.

I'm not your book buddy,

I'm not your boss, your leader, your guru,

I am not your guiding light, stepping stone, dart board.

I am not your farmer or your tender

I'm not your helping hand, money lender,

I'm not your worst enemy -

I'm not your Nemesis,

I'm not your Justice.

I'm not your dealer,

I'm not your 'dealt'

I'm not your opus, your creation,

I'm not your Calphurnia, Desdemona, Beatrice.

I am not your wife, lover, daughter or your equal -

I'm not a part of your PLAN.

I'm not you're "woman"

YOU are not my "man".

Anyone that knows me [which is no one, because no one asks] knows that I hate every single possible aspect of my present and my future life.
I loved it all about 5 days ago but I guess some things sink in slowly.


I think the main thing on my horizon is the prom.
I Really
Really

Don't want to go.

Speaking in Tongues

Sometimes I fear I'll write in a language no one speaks
or in a language soon to be spoken by nobody.

Let me take you into this.

One fine day you wake up and all you know is gone. The opaque walls that surround you have turned to dust and everyone you loved was never there to begin with. There are no faces to look at. No eyes to stare into. No freckles to count.

There's no one to look at you. Your hair grows long, your skin thick and your nails start to roll. The dirt accumulates beneath your toes and between them... and not even the colonies of this and that which grow on your legs, make you stir.

You wander empty streets. Empty paths. You wander the empty. You don't need to eat. Drink. Sleep. Simply walk around, taking in the trees, the mist, the sun, the sand... whatever may be around.

You are naked. To yourself you are clothed with all you need. As there is no one to see, there is no one to care... And if there were, you'd have no sense of self anyway.

On the ground you come across a page. A page as out of place as an ink blot on a wedding dress. Unaffected you pick it up. The paper is crisp as new, the ink in its rightful place, the corners unbent, the sides untorn. And yet. Yet every symbol. Every shape stares up at you. Every ink drop contemplates your features, every curve extends itself to check your expression, to peer up... at your blank face. All the tales that could be written, all the secrets that could be shared, all the bad punctuation, beautiful grammar... are out of your reach. Meaningless dot after line after slash. You release it, it screams its silent way to the ground. You walk on.

(...)

Important

Le Sigh

Okay, so all my friends are studying for the exams, busy with their
boyfriends or with their computers down, phones out of order or out of
the country.

What the heck?????

Fwd: Yummy Post Testing

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Margarida
Date: Apr 27, 2005 12:40 AM
Subject: Yummy Post Testing
To: jadedflower.meli@blogger.com

Hello again...

This is the only way I have of posting something relatively long
without having my computer crash.

This assumes two things of course;

One: That someone actually lands here on purpose and not just looking for
Alex Kapranos, Alex Huntley, Karelia, Blisters, mps Which had
now become the top search that ends up.. here. Well good news. Email
my music account jadedflower//@\\gmail.com if you want
any mp3s by them, give me a shout, ok? I've got all karelia, blister
and FF tracks.

Two: The second thing is of course that someone actually cares about
what I've got to say.

I'll admit that what I have to say at this particular moment in time
isn't all that interesting for every single person out there. Then
again, few people actually find this site. Well, 7 people on average
per day....

Anyhow, this is just a test. Blogger swallows most of my emailed
posts, so this one is likely to follow.

Yummy Post Testing

Hello again...

This is the only way I have of posting something relatively long
without having my computer crash.

This assumes two things of course;

One: That someone actually lands here on purpose and not just looking for
Alex Kapranos, Alex Huntley, Karelia, Blisters, mps Which had
now become the top search that ends up.. here. Well good news. Email
my music account jadedflower//@\\gmail.com if you want
any mp3s by them, give me a shout, ok? I've got all karelia, blister
and FF tracks.

Two: The second thing is of course that someone actually cares about
what I've got to say.

I'll admit that what I have to say at this particular moment in time
isn't all that interesting for every single person out there. Then
again, few people actually find this site. Well, 7 people on average
per day....

Anyhow, this is just a test. Blogger swallows most of my emailed
posts, so this one is likely to follow.

Call me selfish.

i want to hug you if you need a hug
i want to smile if you need a smile
i want to laugh at your jokes, if you're in need of being funny
i want to go with you, if you need someone to go with
i want to talk to you if you need someone to talk to
i want to kiss you if you need someone to kiss
i want to dance with you if you need a dancing partner
i want to sleep beside you if you're afraid of sleeping alone tonight
i want to stay with you if you're afraid of going off alone
i want to see you if you need to be seen
i want to cry on your shoulder if you need to be needed...
i want to have you cry on mine
i want to touch you if you need to be touched, need to be reassured
that you're actually there
i want to hear you if you need to put out what's inside you
i want to smell you...
i want to ...

Street Talk

She sits on a small stool by the window, watching moon reflected on
the hoods of the cars passing on the street. It is an odd sight no
doubt... but somehow it makes her happy.

We Are

We Never Eat
We Don't have pimples
We're Never Sick
We don't go to the bathroom
We never cry
There is never mucus in our noses
We have no desires
No urges
We are always clean
We always behave
We're always legal
We're always nice
We're always active
We're always hard working
We're modest
We're unselfish
We.
Are.
Perfection.

History is stranger than Fiction... or just, the same.

Okay, it's late... but I've been working and now I need to write a bit
to unwind, as opposed to writing so that I can kill myself - death by
History essay.. you know what I'm saying.

I was browsing through my history books, looking at all the pretty
sources... and I realized how important it is to have photos in these
books. I don't mean for all the logical normal reasons we use
sources... the sudden realization I had was deeper.
I took one of the GCSE books by Traynor... "Europe 1890-1990" and I
flicked through that. I'd not looked at this particular book before,
and doing so was like flashing back in time. All these months I'd
heard of Kaminev, Zanoviev, Karinsky, Kornilov, Witte, Stoylpin....
but they weren't *people*... they were stories. They could have easily
be fiction and instead of History, been part of a long story. But to
flick through this particular textbook allowed me to see each of their
faces - none how I'd imagined, of course. But each insanely
interesting.

The rest of this ramble will go on in my head. I'm off for the night
before guilt plagues me sleep.

Dreaming someone else's dream.

Hm... I dreamt of Dogs last night. Two small dogs, like bulldogs but
about the size of my hand. They were in my living room and just about
to pee against my couch. Thankfully there were two plastic bags in
arm's reach and... well... I'm not sure. It was a dream. I think I
stopped them.
I dreamt of a house. A damn fine house. Something was wrong with it
though... it was a beach house and there was a boat pulling up. There
were people around it who were drowning. I jump in! I'm drowning too..
I ask for the vicadin lifebuoy. Vicadin? No matter... It's round my
neck and I'm holding on. Then I get these instructions - almost like
from memory. That if my name was something or another, I'd drown if I
didn't do X. However, if my name was something else or another, I
would drown if i did do X.
I dreamt of lithographs and how to make them...

I don't know where th dream of the dogs came from... I think the
drowning came from hearing of the Saint Maries La Mer tradition, and
the thing about the names... was because of St. Germain.
It's the second night running I have the lithographs dream... and I
wake up just before the climax of the "story".

Words of Wisdom [Quoted!]

"Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody"

-Last of The Catcher in The Rye, JD Salinger

untitled

In the name of... fairness? Justice? Here's a correction to my post
below about the government:

wERQUID said:

"You forgot some details, rather funny ones... I mean, for people who
have a dark humour, like me! However, your text have some
imprecisions: our fired and resigned Prime Minister Santana Lopes
hasn't raised taxes (he had no time!) and it was JM Barroso who raised
VAT by 2%, no 6%. If it was so, people here wouldn't be able to buy
anything... "

Bow Before My Disgusting Drink Making Talents...

...for I have invented the Shakespeare.

1 Part Passion Fruit Juice
2 Parts Diet Coke
1 Part Vodka

Put in a tall glass, don't stir.

untitled

Not meant to be on this bloody thing... but at 1am, what's the
difference? Either way, I don't think I've ever said anything
interesting on this piece of cyber crap so one more addition to this
already dead pile won't exactally tip the scale.

WHAT THE HELL AM I SAYING?

My dad's been playing "Great hits from the 80"s for me... not quite.
Late 70s... and nothing interesting either. Just some stuff in
Portuguese, like my godfather's band "Opinião Publica" - those of you
in Portugal, ask your parents if they know about them. My dad also
played me "Xutos & Pontapés" and their first single... those adorable
cute little black vinyl disks you just want to throw out the window to
see if they fly.

Nah, not really.. I love LPs... when proper stuff is done with them. I
feel so much like a good harsh rant on something interesting... but
nothing comes to me except onions and Noam Chomsky. However I lack the
enthusiasm to rant much right now.

Alright, I got it... I'm going to share some portuguese politics with
you... an email I sent to a male friend of mine, Sam, in New Zealand.
It's cool that he takes an interest in our wacko politics. He thinks
we're so third world. Actually, most civilized nations look down on
us. And laugh in shock and disbelief at the fact we have left wing
parties... "So wait, you actually have Communists there?" ... no...
they just call themselves Marxist-Leninists and Trotskites for the
show... in fact, they all say "Heil Hitler" and sing "Deutschland uber
alles" when no one is looking. And the more to the left you go, the
more they worship Peron and Mussolini. Okay; this is going too far.

Want a good laugh? I mean a damn good laugh? At some seriously
retarded politics that might make the US
politicians think that they're failing when it comes to comedy?

Here's the excerpt...

************************************************

But let's talk of fun fun fun stuff! Election time! Yay!
Okay, so things here are warming up because last November our
president dissolved parliament and now, on the 20th we get elections.

Here's the background;

It's a warm June afternoon and our prime minister is invited to leave
the country after his second year as PM, only to go become President
of the European union... and like any foolish, status seeking, money
hungry fool (you can see I love him) he accepted. Mind you, he was
something along the lines of 12th person to be asked.
So, Mr. Barroso packs his bags and goes off to Belgium, to lead the
glorious(?) EU.

The president ponders hard and long on what to do now... it's quite a
situation, certainly... so should we have elections straight away and
replace him? OR should we ask the party who still had 2 years left,
whether they'd like to elect a new party leader and resume their job?

He goes for the second option. It seemed silly at the time but hey...
who could question his authority?

The party (Social Democratic Party) members elected the slimy Mayor of
Lisbon to be PM and the rest of the country watched as he formed
government... When this was decided in early July... they went off and
did what any recently formed gvmt does: GO ON HOLIDAY and leave any
decision until September. From September to November they managed to
do a series things... all of them bad. They had huge scandals...
ministers who didn't know what they were meant to be ministering...
others contradicting each other on Public television... promises being
made and the opposite being scandously carried out... blatent media
manipulation... I'd tell you what exactally... but to actually pick
one story would do the others no justice, and they're all hillarious
if you happen to laugh at dark satirical humour. I swear, it's so
shockingly --- bad. Just; bad.

Sooo.... after plans were changed, minestry buildings were changed 3
times, from city to city... people were fired... taxes went up, then
up again... then they promised to put them down but oh! they managed
to sneak in another rise. And then another rise, 6% more in all
VAT.... the President declares that he is sick of this and puuf.
Dismisses the parliament.

Great stuff really, because basically what he did was, instead of
leaving the people to wonder whether they'd be any good if they
continued, he let the party prove that they sucked by letting them
drive themselves into the ground.

So now, the elections! Don't worry, I'll make it short.

The Social Democrats, and their coalition party, the Popularist (even
further right wing, bordering Fascist) are now trying to slander the
name of the opposition leader and are attempting to make him pass as
gay.

An interview in the summer (our summer, August) for one of the most
read (by business people and whatnot) magazines in Portugal attempted
to slander his name just a little more by asking him questions
regarding how often he went to the hairdresser, did he buy his own
clothes and what did he think of homosexuals?
He took it quite well, and all his answers start with exclamations
such as "Oh come now!", "For goodness' sake!" and "Really, what a
question!"...
Ah, I forgot to mention that the leader of the coalition party
actually IS gay... although no one talks about it... but it's public
information =P

Basically, all the campaigning on the side of the SDP and the PP (who
are running for the elections separatley, even though they've made it
known that if one wins, they'll form a coalition) is based on large
outdoors with the photos of the opposition and awful, scandalous (yet
again) slogans and questions like "WHO IS THIS MAN?".

It's insane. It really is.

*************************************


Now if you want to lose all hope in humanity, go read Michael Moore's
17 reasons not to slit your wrists about the election in the US.

Enough from me. Toodles.