quarta-feira, 25 de novembro de 2009


- I'm pregnant with your child.
- ... but that's impossible.
- Why is it impossible?
- I haven't slept with you.
- So?
- And you're a man.
- So are you.
- You can't get pregnant.
- And yet I am, it's a miracle.
- You are NOT pregnant.
- Yes I am. I am fat and I can feel you lingering inside me. What else could it be?

quinta-feira, 19 de novembro de 2009

i talk to the wind

This afternoon, the bright sunny sky turned sepia. Black clouds in the shape of a troll invaded the blue heaven of the plain, and the wind carried sand through the grounds, making leaves fly in a beautiful, beautiful way. I felt a little jealous for the wind, I must say, for I'm pretty sure he touched you and the leaves on your cactus tree heart (that smell...). The leaves happily left my sight, but I did not. Where is the wind just about now? Please open up your windows.

Through it you might see a snowy ground and you will see what I cannot when I'm locked in my insomnia room trying to make sense of a landlocked shipwreck. Why must we lead so different and so similar lives? The globe is one and the wind unites us.

Are you afraid of dark corridors when you're alone at home? Why, you know there's nothing in the dark that wasn't there when it was bright. Just oh please, let my wind become ours when it crosses your dark hallway and hits you fulminantly. May all the papers on your desk fly along the sky we can't reach. Let the wind bring it back to me. Let us both look at the moon, now so hard to be seen (I had to go all the way to the backyard to find it, love), at the same time. I will wait for your message. Let us hear this voice that makes us cold and lonelier together for a while. Let us be innapropriately naked and uncomfortably numb in this invisible anti-carnival.

And what would you say if the wind lead me on a dance?

quarta-feira, 4 de novembro de 2009

mental masturbation

It hurts, but who cares. It aches, but it won’t heal. It’s real, but it won’t happen. It’s there, but it’s not here.

There’s no hope, and neither there is patience. There’s music, but there’s also everything else. There is you, and then there’s no one.

It’s very strong, but it’ll die over time – like everything else.

There is happiness, but there is also reality.