lullaby #44 13:59

não estejas longe, por favor 23:33

"New York
November 10, 1958

Dear Thom:

We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.

First — if you are in love — that’s a good thing — that’s about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone make it small or light to you.

Second — There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you — of kindness and consideration and respect — not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.

You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply — of course it isn’t puppy love.

But I don’t think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it — and that I can tell you.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.

The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.

If you love someone — there is no possible harm in saying so — only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.

Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.

It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another — but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.

Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I’m glad you have it.

We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.

And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens — The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

Love,

Fa"

lullaby #43 15:00

lullaby #42 17:46

é recíproco:

the world keeps turning, I still feel /completely/ frozen 17:43

I am not going anywhere.

lullaby #41 23:00

Ela é um mal, que não desejo a ninguém,
só a mim

"the side that does not serve" ou do purgatório irretornável 01:03

ou ainda da procura de um closure. 

"the side that does not serve" ou "the one that got away" 00:54

(spoiler: ele regressa)

"the side that does not serve" e do delay na resposta 00:49

"the side that does not serve" ou da droga que nos faz mover 00:43

"the side that does not serve" ou das palavras que nunca se apagam 00:37

— 22:48

— 22:47

— 22:43

— 01:24

— 01:22

— 13:39

do silêncio irreversível: 13:03

currency based happiness 13:52

lullaby #40 13:33

— 18:50

— 17:08

Esta é a história simples da coincidência, daquelas que ficam para a ciência

estudar a regra e a sua excepção do querer voar alto ou ficar no chão

Temos sempre faca e o queijo na mão e o corte dispensa a hesitação

E cortou

E cortou

Sem parar

Que a vida quando dá sinal

Inerte fica quem está mal

Por mais que pareça normal

Deixar estar

lullaby #39 21:22

— 01:40

—

lullaby #38 00:06

lullaby #37 10:07

um fim-de-semana daqueles: 18:05

da "maluqueira": 21:37

ainda do desejo: 16:27

there's nothing but trouble and desire
there's nothing but trouble and desire
there's nothing but trouble and desire

do desejo: 16:26

"... and suddenly, I saw things as they really were. He loved me. He was a complex person with layers of percolating emotions, some of them spiritual, some tortured in a more secular way, and he burned for me. This complicated flame of being was mine."

do mau humor: 16:20

dizer algo repetidas vezes para se ser ignorado em todas essas vezes. pergunto: qual a motivação para continuar? não, "água mole em pedra dura" não faz rigorosamente nada.

as mãos 18:30

e a distância entre elas e o objecto de desejo.

o amor infinito que te tenho 17:13

que mais posso eu fazer?

on stoning and unstoning 12:39

o poder de largar a pedra a 5 cm do rosto.

I am alone 11:25

binómios 18:31

"No one belongs here more than you" mas "We come from long lines of people destined never to meet".

il continue comme un fleuve 18:02

do meu filme e das mãos em que passou.

be fluent in me #2 10:08

"dialecto" está para "pessoa". talvez o amor absoluto seja isso. ser fluente em "pessoa".

—sou fluente em ti.

be fluent in me #1 10:07

Please be
fluent in me

I know you have
the advantage

Ready.

Set.

Get.

There is a porn addiction.
There are windows where I want you
to see me,
how I want you
to see me.

I lick my fingers and smile
at the corners
of the bedroom
the backs of my
eyelids.

There is a complete silence
where my heart used to be.

não-estar: 22:26

estar aqui na esperança de estar noutro lado. e a sensação de que o nosso corpo não acompanha a vida tão rápida a acontecer dentro de nós. tanto frenesim ao fechar os olhos, abertos nada. que estranha forma de estar.

you and I will be together in the end 11:49

e nem sempre funciona.

some art 09:48

beleza e tanta vulnerabilidade combinadas.

poderia ser uma rúbrica 13:14

como poupar tempo: deixar de fintar as saudades.

lullaby #36 11:29

"Fools," said I, "You do not know -

Silence like a cancer grows

lullaby #35 14:59

it keeps on playing, even if I'm the only one listening to it.

darkness can't drive out darkness 22:04

But this loneliness, it won't leave me alone
It's such a drag to be on your own
Baby, you left and you didn't say why
Mostly darkness in my mind
Sometimes it leaves me, sometimes it leaves me behind

I am done being scared 21:34

a tristeza é lúcida, disseram-me. mas é premente soltarmo-nos de qualquer luto de sonhos que foram pelo cano abaixo para que nos apercebamos dos novos que nos levarão a céus mais altos. porque, e mais uma vez, "se ninguém sonhasse, tanta coisa tinha ficado por fazer".

lullaby #34 16:34

oh, I am 17:52

lullaby #33 13:51

But I want to.

fica prá próxima 18:38

never/not 10:09

uma garrafa a boiar algures 15:06

Bet you don't remember how we met.
That's okay it hasn't happened yet.
Although we had the same dream.
Although we had the same dream.

I think I met you when I was sleeping.
'Cause I shook myself awake.
Although we had the same dream.
I know when I go to sleep
We'll have the same dream.
We'll have the same dream.

Oh... bet you don't remember how we met.
That's okay it hasn't happened yet
Although we had the same dream.
I know when I go to sleep
'Cause we can still dream

chantal akerman 14:55

lullaby #32 13:52

the only cure is more cowbell: 11:50

you twit,

he said.

and he filled in the blanks, and connected the dots for me, i'd missed it completely.

i loved him so much in that moment.

and for a second, a split second, i was a neil gaiman fan.
and i was a fan because he’d tricked me, and he’d tricked me without me knowing, and i’d heard rumors that he does that, but i thought i was immune.
and for a second i felt like what it must feel like when i’m on stage playing “the bed song” and someone snaps a picture of neil a few feet away, looking at me.
and for a second i felt what it must feel like to wait in a line for five hours and have him sign a book that changed your life.
to stand not in admiration of the husband writer, the writer who wants his tea but not with the milk hot because then it’s just wrong, the writer who won’t remember what time he said he’d meet you, the writer who has to sign 12,000 copies of his new book that’s a bestseller before it hits the shelves and actually that’s really annoying because i’m slightly jealous of his instant success no matter what he does, the writer who gets irritated when i leave too many clothes on the floor and he can’t get to the bathroom, the writer who is awkward and has a hard time in party situations when he feels he doesn’t understand the social hierarchy, the writer who is not really a writer are you kidding me he’s just some snoring heap of flesh beside me, sweating and breathing and grinding his teeth and probably dreaming the kinds of dreams that neil gaimans dream, full of dreams and wishes and magic and wonder and all the shit that can drive me crazy if i’m not in the right mood for it….no…the WRITER. the man who actually takes a pen to a paper and writes things and creates a believable world that sucks you in and spits you out, its logic embedded in your mind forevermore. that. i saw THAT. and i love THAT so much, the fact that he can DO that…and i don’t get to see that most of the time. i’m too busy looking at the man. as it should be, i think.

you cannot separate the self from the relationship and you cannot separate the relationship from the work.

call it poison, or call it the muse.

one thing i have learned, being an artist married to another artist:

whatever it is, we've infected each other, and the only cure is more cowbell.
that's the end of my book and marriage review.

é 20:41

a verdade do exercício "físico" 21:25

em 2012 isto.
em 2014 ainda isto:

mais 50 kg de ferro 14:04