She'll be here, she'll be here, she'll be here.

The one I fell in love with is coming to see me. You know when someone leaves and you still feel like they're around the house? I can feel her here, before she ever stepped in this city, in this country.
Four hours and seventeen minutes.
I finally shut down the program that has been helping me countdown the days until she came.
I watch TV trying to calm myself down. All the things I should have done haunt me, the work I couldn't finish, things out of place in the house make me uncomfortable for no reason. I couldn't work even if I wanted to. Every interview I see on this damned talk-show seems the same. All that everyone says is RACHEL.

How will it be?

Who the hell knows.

It's zero again, we're brave enough to do it and now we'll be brave enough to find out. Hold our breath, open our eyes and SEE. BE THERE.

Both at once.

I'm happy. I'm concerned that I won't be able to sleep too well and that will probably keep me from getting any sleep.

We've been wanting each other forever, this will only happen once. This first time, this first meeting, it's unique. That makes it special, whatever may come out of it. It'll be bright and special.

omygod,omygod,omygod,omygod,omygod...

omygod,omygod,omygod,omygod,omygod.

Freaky as hell.

Today I took an afternoon nap. Yes, my dayjob friends, that does still exist! I remembered it was a possibility.
But soon I also remembered everytime I took one of them, I had the liveliest and strangest dreams. Today's was no different.

It was the day Rachel would arrive. I pick her up at the airport early, certainly not as excited as I currently am and much less than the way I'll be freaking out when it's the real thing; she didn't seem too moved either, although we both were grinning all the time. But besides happy, she was also... japanese! Or rather, mixed.

Mixed was also the feeling throughout the thing, there was the tenderness of being hugging each other all the time, the way I was disproportionally happy with the fact she was so fluent in portuguese that she talked real fast - the first would be surprising, but isn't something I give that much importance too, given I speak english well enough; the latter would be just annoying, but I seemed to like it that way; there was also desperation in me, due to the bizarre circumstances: we were spending the holidays in a favela.

It was a very big house, with everyone in my family there, we were running around from room to room in desperation, things were being very strange and my brother was being an asshole constantly, the way he's only been to me one or two times in his life, dissing me constantly.

The japanese rachel was understanding, caring and helpful all of the time, even being from another country, she seemed more familiarized with the hostile enviroment than I. I remember few concrete things, only that we were hugging most of the time and at some point, a family meeting at a house's front porch became hectic due to the presence of drug dealers.

The last thing that I remember was being in a bathroom, knowing I was going to get in a plane. I had just been to that room and now it was destroyed, dirty, full of dust and construction leftovers. I needed to shit and the toilet was broken. I managed to do it somehow, but then the paper was all dirty from... other people's crap.

I remember having cleansed myself somehow, and as I left the room, cutie japanese rachel was holding a picture of me as a baby with a diaper that had shit coming out of it. She looked at me like mothers look at their children and talked about her "baby that was bleeding shit". I get embarassed and want to run away.

I wake up with a stiff neck and no will to close my eyes again for a while.

<3

"i only wanna say things that are pure
now i won't be talking anymore.
i only wanna do things that are true.
Every time i move i'm hurting you."

We freak out, we take turns.
It's okay to lose it every now and then, as long as we realize what the fuck we're doing and apologize in time. As long as one of us is capable of recognizing what the other is going through, catching the train of thought even if it's running fast and halfway through. As long as we believe our ears more than the crazy smoke detector in our brain, the one that got slapped around so many times it just goes off for anything.

If the doubt is made clear and there is room for clearing out, there will be progress.

The good thing is you and I can't stay down for too long... I'll stand up bleeding and forgive you if you want to hug me and help me understand why. You'll fight back, even when I don't attack - or don't intend to - but I know you, you know me. No fear can be worth more than the way we understand each other's points of view.

I hate fighting, but at least we have a productive way of doing it. We don't go to bed with lumps in our throats, we get it off. It's messy at first, but we must stay there till the end, wait. Never leave.

Because we expect to get a greater understanding - and so we find.

Have you forgotten

I am my favorite extension! YIPEE!


Which File Extension are You?

The indie browser.

"The wait is over. Get Firefox 1.0, the faster, better web browser. Now available in 14 languages, for Windows, MacOS X and Linux.

'I suggest dumping Microsoft's Internet Explorer' — Walt Mossberg, Wall Street Journal."

This is the future (and present, for a lot of the people I know) of web-browsing.
Highly customizable, lightweight, good-looking, compatable with all the standards (yes, it opens practically all pages. The ones it doesn't, well, you just open with that old piece of junk that you can't really uninstall)
The tabbed browsing is sexy as hell, built-in pop-up blocking, amazing security.

I haven't used IE in ages. I'm glad the browser wars is back and turned into guerilla.

This little cow.

I'm so nostalgic. Old posts that make me laugh.

"This little cow is strong. It's in a cup all day sniffing a flower and getting stung by a bee. And it's always there sniffing the flower and being surprised by the bee. And the cup says "don't go nosing around where you're not supposed to".
My life is not a cup. Where the hell do I go nosing around then????"

Uh-huh her

So I think maybe PJ Harvey decided to make a decent show since it was her first in Brazil.
Either that, or a lot of people (including this one whose opinions very usually match mine) are a bit too demanding with their shows.
She was great, shiny, connected to the audience, speaking to us - even in portuguese - much prettier than I used to think, singing strong and convincingly. I enjoyed the hell out of it.
The music was loud, but just enough, and I always find it pretty impressive to see three instruments and a voice making a song sound full. I also liked the way the musicians kept switching instruments, gives dynamics to the process.

If it wasn't for the Primal Scream concert, which outshined hers by far, PJ would've been the great attraction of the night. Cause definitely she was the surprise of the week!

Your love will sing for you.

"Lying on my back, I heard music
Felt unsure and catastrophic
Had to tell myself it's only music
It blows my mind, but it's like that"

Why does it have to hurt? Something that is so good, so unique, so nice, how come it hurts?
There's one week left, and that's so little time, seven days or so and something new is going to come true.
Everything seems so incomplete without her around.
And I know it will stop hurting, at least for a month.

Post-post

Ah, politics.
Depressing in general.
I'd rather live in a beautiful mountain sorrounded by grass.
The only bush I'd have to face would be the one full of berries!

The edge goes beyond.

Most people have a negative point of view when it comes to vanguardist art. It's inaccessible, too idiosyncratic, too particular. It's not even art, many will say.
But if you give it some thought, you'll realize that those people on the edge are the ones that feed the other ones, who will feed others that will finally make the message accessible. It's an industrial process, basically.
I'll give an example. Unfortunately, I have missed the screening of the documentary "Kill Your Idols", and since they still don't have any form of official distribution, I guess I got "hosed" (thanks my baby, for da vocab).
But from what I heard, the film is about a linneage of punk rock about which I've been reading a lot lately, known as No Wave, and the whole generation of "noise rock" that came afterwards, in the eighties, including Sonic Youth and Swans. Regardless of individual bios, which I don't know much about, the No Wave people were basically experimental kids, giving birth to a type of punk rock that was raw and barely musical, but richly artistic. I have downloaded "Teenage Jesus & The Freaks" (one of the bands from the period, in which Lydia Lunch, interviewed on the film, was a singer) and it's like walking around a museum.
It's beautiful, true, spontanous art. Noise is laid out in pure disorder, in the deepest human disorder. Lyrics don't rhyme, in fact, they were yelled instead of sung, which turns them into Lou-Reedean poems more than anything. Lack of organization. Dirt. Noise. That is Teenage Jesus.
I know I'm tripping, but I do have a point. After those people went absolutely nuts, stretching the boundaries of musical instruments so far that they turn into noise rather than music, it allowed other artists, such as Sonic Youth, and many years later, the Pixies, Pavement and so many others, to sew together all the noise and turn it into music. And after the Pixies, billions of other bands spawned, including the ever-so-popular Nirvana, which finally brought noise to the masses.
So bitch all you want kids, but if it wasn't for the inaccessible, elitist, daring artists, there wouldn't be much innovation. And the rule works for any other kind of technological development.

From the crypt.

I tend to see the things I used to write years ago as pure shit, but I've been reading some old stuff and there seems to be a few things that are actually pretty interesting. Definitely need some work but I like the idea. Like this one.

Frail night

the dew drop
runs down the forehead
of hungry morning earthy green grapes

gently morning blinks and is
lakes of bright eyes
slowly rise
and the balance that was night
comes all down at once when light
reaches in and pulls the world
inside out