The tale continues.
Back to Castel Sant'Angelo, going in to see, up...up...up... and what a magnificent view!
Puta da Maquina! Won't turn on...
Pissed off I descend to the gardens sitting in a bench on the shade, trying to solve this big problem. Right in front of a gorgeous ragazza and her mother!
I fix the camera (SD card) take down some notes in my map, kill the rest of the 5€ fanta. And I find myself being talked to, it's the ragazzas mother. I asked her to talk in english but, no dice.
Poor me, reached my palms to the sky and shrugged my shoulders. The girl seemed embaraced and gets up and leaves, mother follows, and i stay the same. Ok... another episode.
Ponte Sant'Angelo and alleyways to alleyways i lose myself, and find myself again in Largo Octavio Tassoni. Well... since I lost myself till here, i'll go to S. Giovanni Dei Fiorentini. Ok, Seen, away.
To Piazza Chieva Nova and COrso Vittorio Emanuele, through the museum, left to the alleys and see myself in Piazza Navona.
Beautiful, full of life, good artists, portraits on the street, exceptional.
I take my good time gliding and admiring the life of this square.
Palazo Madona to Pantheon by Piazza Caprettari, i'm again next to a monument.
Comming back another way to Palazzo Braschi, at the edge of Piazza Navona and doen to Piazza S. Pantaleo and Campo De Fiori (I found it Pedro)
Another gorgeous square, and another spot to keep. Piazza Navona and Campo De Fiori, and it's in-betweens.
Palazzo Farnese and Palazo Spada, nothing to declare. They're nice, they're there.
And behind Campo de Fiori I find the cosy Buffeto 2, on Piazza Teatro Delle Pompeo.
Where I sit scribbling on the spianata. Quickly presented with a napoletana and a coke. "grazie"
Eat, write, and I'm soon between beautiful italian women. Laughing, talking, eating, smoking. And I scribble some more, but this moment was mentioned before. I pay and leave.
domingo, 7 de setembro de 2008
"Sigo primo al vaticano"
Back baby, i'm back. Life was here and there. But the blogging continues!!
Rome is to be finished! And greece is here to be blogged too. So come with me and let's jump into the adventures of my life.
Back to Rome.
I follow down Via Del Corso, lots of stores and street vendors. Many beautiful people and something turns my eyes, something before my predefined destiny, and I turn without thinking. Via Antonio Canova... sounds good. And at the end, there it is! Instituto Di Belle Arti. Doesn't show on the maps, but it called to me. Beautiful, with political messages, right in the stile of the demented artists.
I start to look for Mausoleo Augusto, but the place is under maintenace...circling the place there are some interesting monuments. A museum in Ara Pacis, glassed so we can the the exhibits from outside. Which is quite good, cause it saved me the ticket and disapointment. What a prety shitty exhibit.
Roaming north to Ponte Nenni. I got to go see it, reminds me of sweet Francesca (nicknamed Nenni).
I come back the same way and cross the river Tevere through Pont Marcherita.
Follow the river on Lungotevere Mellini till Ponte Cavour, where I turn right heading on Via Vittoria Colonna till Piazza Cavour. Another place under constuction and maintenance. Take a few photos, the surrounding thread (malha) is prety interesting. (Sim Antonio, eu disse Malha)
I start a conversation with a french woman that asks for aid to get up to the place I positioned myself, so that she could compete with my photos. A few laughs, either on my very weak french, or her butchered english.
Piazza Del Tribunali and Palazzo Di Giustizia, boring.
On my way.
Piaza Adriana (LOL) and starting to pass the gardens of Castel Sant'Angelo, that according to Johny Bigodes on the turist center closes at 17:30, and the Vatican closes at 16:00.
Sigo primo al Vaticano.
Throught the Egiptiany Via Della Conciliazione (small detour to Ponte Vittorio Eanuele II).
Vaticano, anouced by the avenue and culminated by Piazza Pio XII, and mithical Piazza S. Pietro.
Reminds me of Fatima, alot of priests with briefcases, they look like executives! And so many monks in habit!
After a long walk arround the Ciutá Dello Vaticano, i find the entrance to the museum. In I Go!
Episode with security guard and X-ray machine, "you have a knife? you have a knife?"
I show the guy it's only batteries for my camera...
Beautiful things and all that, as in most museums. Beautiful gardens, tapestries. And FINALY! the chapel! The genius of Miguel Angelo.I couldn't photograph it...
But the image will not be erased from my mind.
The mithical spiral stairs, and out.
Vatican, religious or not, a must.
Even if just to run and go see the Sistine Chapel ceiling.
Rome is to be finished! And greece is here to be blogged too. So come with me and let's jump into the adventures of my life.
Back to Rome.
I follow down Via Del Corso, lots of stores and street vendors. Many beautiful people and something turns my eyes, something before my predefined destiny, and I turn without thinking. Via Antonio Canova... sounds good. And at the end, there it is! Instituto Di Belle Arti. Doesn't show on the maps, but it called to me. Beautiful, with political messages, right in the stile of the demented artists.
I start to look for Mausoleo Augusto, but the place is under maintenace...circling the place there are some interesting monuments. A museum in Ara Pacis, glassed so we can the the exhibits from outside. Which is quite good, cause it saved me the ticket and disapointment. What a prety shitty exhibit.
Roaming north to Ponte Nenni. I got to go see it, reminds me of sweet Francesca (nicknamed Nenni).
I come back the same way and cross the river Tevere through Pont Marcherita.
Follow the river on Lungotevere Mellini till Ponte Cavour, where I turn right heading on Via Vittoria Colonna till Piazza Cavour. Another place under constuction and maintenance. Take a few photos, the surrounding thread (malha) is prety interesting. (Sim Antonio, eu disse Malha)
I start a conversation with a french woman that asks for aid to get up to the place I positioned myself, so that she could compete with my photos. A few laughs, either on my very weak french, or her butchered english.
Piazza Del Tribunali and Palazzo Di Giustizia, boring.
On my way.
Piaza Adriana (LOL) and starting to pass the gardens of Castel Sant'Angelo, that according to Johny Bigodes on the turist center closes at 17:30, and the Vatican closes at 16:00.
Sigo primo al Vaticano.
Throught the Egiptiany Via Della Conciliazione (small detour to Ponte Vittorio Eanuele II).
Vaticano, anouced by the avenue and culminated by Piazza Pio XII, and mithical Piazza S. Pietro.
Reminds me of Fatima, alot of priests with briefcases, they look like executives! And so many monks in habit!
After a long walk arround the Ciutá Dello Vaticano, i find the entrance to the museum. In I Go!
Episode with security guard and X-ray machine, "you have a knife? you have a knife?"
I show the guy it's only batteries for my camera...
Beautiful things and all that, as in most museums. Beautiful gardens, tapestries. And FINALY! the chapel! The genius of Miguel Angelo.I couldn't photograph it...
But the image will not be erased from my mind.
The mithical spiral stairs, and out.
Vatican, religious or not, a must.
Even if just to run and go see the Sistine Chapel ceiling.
terça-feira, 27 de maio de 2008
L´800
Ok, I failed to what was promissed.
It's 11:20 am on the 26th. But I have a good excuse, a czech excuse!
But that's part of the later, let's continue the today (yesterday).
Piazza Sallustion and through narrow roads get to the great Via XX Settembre, to soon turn ahead and visit the Ministro Dello Tesoro, and some adjacent ruins, in Santa Maria Degli Angeli. Down the trail and on the end I see myself in the enormous Piazza della Republica, stopping to admire, photograph and note down my progress on the map. When aproached by two americans, 30s, hot, cheeky!
They ask me where we were in the map, i point to the huge Drawing of the piazza right in the center of her map, and she giggles. Ok... I move on, Rome awaits!
I round the Piazza and pause to check my cellphone that's in my backpack. When i realise, a beautiful group of females was gathering near by, and me, phone in hand, admire them, as they take off their rags and bask in the sun!
Did I mention that I'm scribbling drinking a genuine Capuccino, on the sunny tables outside of L'800, fresh breeze and a view to the Coloseo?
Nice women too, and the cleavages? Mama mia... ok, a bit of a sexist phase for me, admited, but Rome is love, Rome is sex. I love it!!!
I went then to Teatro Dell'Opera, nothing major. Throught Piazza del Viminale i met San Carlo Quattro Fontane, a crossing with 4 fountains on the corners, and continue to Via Del Quirinale. Where a flock of Alfa Romeos, black, smoked windows puts the carabinieri in salute. El presidente?? anyway...
Giardini del Quirinale, time to take a rest, take off the sweaty little summer jacket, and dry it at the sun. Phone mister Pedro Mags, and has him, where the hell is that Pizzaiolo that he talks about?... piazza campo di fiori he says. Ho well...
Beautiful garden, blessed sun. But on my way! Small detour to Palazzo Delle Exposizioni and hop up till the Quirinale and the gorgeous square that anouces it. High point of this day so far, to get to the top of the stairway of quirinale and before going down, see Rome through the rooftops and in the horizon, the dome of the basilica S.Pietro. Photo.
Down gets me to Fontana Di Trevi, and a sea of people!! Photos here and there, Gelato in hand and flee, too many people...
Via del Tritone and left on Via Francesco Crispi, Piazza de Spagna! Gorgeous...
Come back here is a must!!
Above Piazza Mignanelli, climb the stairs to the top, to Trinita dei Monti.
Left, watching Romes rooftops, taking photos every 5 steps, letting myself fall in love for this City. Giving myself the luxury to be vulnerable, on the sense, that I open the doors to a love, and what great love it is... Rome!
Villa Medici, big, uninteresting.
I excape by Viale D. Trinita P. Monti, shooting photos wildly.
Arriving to what is my spot in Rome. The place I will want to come back the most. Right above Piazza del Popolo, with a prime view of Rome.
I slide down to the square. Monumental!
(more to come, right now I need to iron, stay tunned)
It's 11:20 am on the 26th. But I have a good excuse, a czech excuse!
But that's part of the later, let's continue the today (yesterday).
Piazza Sallustion and through narrow roads get to the great Via XX Settembre, to soon turn ahead and visit the Ministro Dello Tesoro, and some adjacent ruins, in Santa Maria Degli Angeli. Down the trail and on the end I see myself in the enormous Piazza della Republica, stopping to admire, photograph and note down my progress on the map. When aproached by two americans, 30s, hot, cheeky!
They ask me where we were in the map, i point to the huge Drawing of the piazza right in the center of her map, and she giggles. Ok... I move on, Rome awaits!
I round the Piazza and pause to check my cellphone that's in my backpack. When i realise, a beautiful group of females was gathering near by, and me, phone in hand, admire them, as they take off their rags and bask in the sun!
Did I mention that I'm scribbling drinking a genuine Capuccino, on the sunny tables outside of L'800, fresh breeze and a view to the Coloseo?
Nice women too, and the cleavages? Mama mia... ok, a bit of a sexist phase for me, admited, but Rome is love, Rome is sex. I love it!!!
I went then to Teatro Dell'Opera, nothing major. Throught Piazza del Viminale i met San Carlo Quattro Fontane, a crossing with 4 fountains on the corners, and continue to Via Del Quirinale. Where a flock of Alfa Romeos, black, smoked windows puts the carabinieri in salute. El presidente?? anyway...
Giardini del Quirinale, time to take a rest, take off the sweaty little summer jacket, and dry it at the sun. Phone mister Pedro Mags, and has him, where the hell is that Pizzaiolo that he talks about?... piazza campo di fiori he says. Ho well...
Beautiful garden, blessed sun. But on my way! Small detour to Palazzo Delle Exposizioni and hop up till the Quirinale and the gorgeous square that anouces it. High point of this day so far, to get to the top of the stairway of quirinale and before going down, see Rome through the rooftops and in the horizon, the dome of the basilica S.Pietro. Photo.
Down gets me to Fontana Di Trevi, and a sea of people!! Photos here and there, Gelato in hand and flee, too many people...
Via del Tritone and left on Via Francesco Crispi, Piazza de Spagna! Gorgeous...
Come back here is a must!!
Above Piazza Mignanelli, climb the stairs to the top, to Trinita dei Monti.
Left, watching Romes rooftops, taking photos every 5 steps, letting myself fall in love for this City. Giving myself the luxury to be vulnerable, on the sense, that I open the doors to a love, and what great love it is... Rome!
Villa Medici, big, uninteresting.
I excape by Viale D. Trinita P. Monti, shooting photos wildly.
Arriving to what is my spot in Rome. The place I will want to come back the most. Right above Piazza del Popolo, with a prime view of Rome.
I slide down to the square. Monumental!
(more to come, right now I need to iron, stay tunned)
segunda-feira, 5 de maio de 2008
La bella Roma
(bare with me as this was all writen in portuguese and i'll be translating as I go)
Arrived to Ciampino arround 11:40, catch the bus right on time (last one at midnight), no seats! I have this very bumpy trip sitting on the stairs in the center on the bus, entertained by the italian driving. The people on the bus even scream on certain curves. Inside I'm laughing out loud, feel like screaming "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!" with an evil smile and laughter, but no one would understand...
At last we arrive to Termini. Train central. I ask all around, nobody knows where Via Vicenza is!! Well...start walking.
Found a cyberdump. 00:30am, Happy 25th of april (liberation day in Portugal)
Chat on Msn, look for hostel. Duh! Via Vicenza is the fucking road right in front of were the bus dropped me. Ho well. Fully enjoy my paid hour, check the blogs, emails, chat with the insomniacs. Till the time that the bearded mule starts to talk italian to me, despite my wide eyes and open mouth staring at him, the creature doesn't realise that I! don't understand a single word he says. I leave.
Alessandro Palace Hotel, cute place. I'm greeted by a Giovanni, nice, brazilian speaking. A "tête a tête" with 2 australian girls and 35 euros later, I have a room!! Hurray!! Repeat with me. Hurray!!
Room 27, 4 beds shared. Here we go, into the room there's only another poor sap there, that at 2:30am puts his head up out of the sheets and mumbles "where you from?" to which I reply "Portugal", and get the following answer "oi cara, sou do brazil" (hey man, I'm from brazil). Is it possible that no one speaks italian in this town?
I take a bath, exhausted, have a pleasent conversation with the brazilian Luis, and go to sleep. Essentials under the pillow, he does the same. Hahaha
Morning slaps me at 7:30am, Fuck!
I get up, breakfast is free till 10, and I'm in cost control!
A quick shower just to tame my eduard scisor hands hair, and out.
Ceral breakfast, which means weat and milk. Booking the hostel at Alessandro, no rooms for tonight, only 27th...ok, i book the 27th, another 35€ but can't risk it. "And for tonight Peter?", "Try yellow hostel" he says. There goes hugo to Yellow. Very well spoken english by 2 cute girls, that for some reason it seemed they took an interest in the animal here, as they do not have a room for me, but quickly got on the phone and got me a bed! Stargate hostel, but I got to run, so I do. Good girls! Stargate hostel, the name says it all. BUT! 25€... Good on yah girls.
There goes the petulant and guarantees a bed for the night, all paid. I'm not sleeping on the street. Feet on the road. Rome, here goes litle Portuguese boy.
With an adorable little map and a pen in hand to scribble down routes, nathing scares me.
Termini, during the day, opened, it's very appealing. Last night it wasnt as friendly, mainly because of the duzens of homeless people, together lined up, to sleep at the door... Pains the soul.
Withdrawl money, and start my journey. From Via Vicenza to Viale Castro Pretorio i arrive at the Piazza Crôce Rossa, and Rome give me her first hit. Bella, or Molto Bella! The colours, the passing of time, the green and the old orange.
With a rejuvenated soul, as if a dive in cold water, i sontinue to Porta Pia. First monumental monument in this moment. I follow my defined paths and sooner than later, that feeling that reminds me of Belfast, returns. The sense of adventure. The wanting to see, know, belong, discover. It's ALIVE, there is soul, I'm not emotionaly dead! Something I've been dreading these past few days, weeks, months, year.
There's life inside this chest, there's courage. After all, I'm alone in Rome. Might not be that much of a deal in my own head, but in truth, there's some coure about that, with a litle to praise to myself. Alone in Rome, expensive gesture, finantialy risky, but extremely simbolic to me. A liberate, liberty, a will reborn. (Um libertar, liberar, um querer a renascer!) A wanting more, a wanting to deserve. In sum, a moment where finaly value myself, where the first soul I want to save, is mine.
Even the breathing brings new air, and as I write these pages in this end of day, in the centre of Rome, Piazza del Teatro Pompeo, with a wonderful Pizza Napoletana, with anchoves, I dring a wonderful nectar, surrounded by beautiful people, fiery and sexy women. A brown man, from the sin, the sun, or dirt, witha moustache and black shirt plays acordeon while this fresh place cools my day. Ans i think to myself, inside my litle head, quoting the fantastic Canela. I'm living the good things in life. What other man celebrates a destructive and destroying love grief? The end of a life taht extended into a future. A connection that wasn't there for a long time now. what other man, celebrates this depressing phase in his life, and puts an end to it, by going to Rome alone, dine with the natives, as it was taken from a movie?
If there's something I apreciate in me, is the taking risks. Risking it now, and containing myself later. For now I need myself, my madness. To save me from my grief, to my attachment to a big love, that only demanded from my part.
What a great day I had...
What a great day, walked alot. My feet wanted ti see and know as much as my heart. So I did, I walked, ran, enjoyed, paused and had a day like I haven't had in a long time. A day with myself, with my music, with the music froma city, with something new.
In peace.
Money comes and goes, bu days like this, they don't repeat themselves, they're fabricated. How? Living. Life isn't more than living. Counting pennies is wasted time. Not spending beyond the means, no! Save, always! Mas also, spend... for our biggest investment, is ourselves.
Let us spoil oursleves. Not all of us, but most of us, we deserve it. I know I do!
I know that for all the good I did, beyond what would be asked of any man. Got evil, mean, and bitterness that no man deserves. If "karmicaly" I don't feel balanced, i make my own well being.
Enough of venting!
I'm in ROME, feeling GREAT! and would like to go back to my day, that followed to the beautiful and cozy Piazza Sallistio.
But the tables are full, jsut asked for the check, i'm leaving soon. I have my hostel in the other side of Rome. Lot of walking to be done. When I get there I'll continue, promisse. For what's on my soul has to go to paper.
For the very least, todays itinerary. WEll, to myself, and to you book, an anxious see you soon.
- Rome 24/04/2008
Arrived to Ciampino arround 11:40, catch the bus right on time (last one at midnight), no seats! I have this very bumpy trip sitting on the stairs in the center on the bus, entertained by the italian driving. The people on the bus even scream on certain curves. Inside I'm laughing out loud, feel like screaming "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!" with an evil smile and laughter, but no one would understand...
At last we arrive to Termini. Train central. I ask all around, nobody knows where Via Vicenza is!! Well...start walking.
Found a cyberdump. 00:30am, Happy 25th of april (liberation day in Portugal)
Chat on Msn, look for hostel. Duh! Via Vicenza is the fucking road right in front of were the bus dropped me. Ho well. Fully enjoy my paid hour, check the blogs, emails, chat with the insomniacs. Till the time that the bearded mule starts to talk italian to me, despite my wide eyes and open mouth staring at him, the creature doesn't realise that I! don't understand a single word he says. I leave.
Alessandro Palace Hotel, cute place. I'm greeted by a Giovanni, nice, brazilian speaking. A "tête a tête" with 2 australian girls and 35 euros later, I have a room!! Hurray!! Repeat with me. Hurray!!
Room 27, 4 beds shared. Here we go, into the room there's only another poor sap there, that at 2:30am puts his head up out of the sheets and mumbles "where you from?" to which I reply "Portugal", and get the following answer "oi cara, sou do brazil" (hey man, I'm from brazil). Is it possible that no one speaks italian in this town?
I take a bath, exhausted, have a pleasent conversation with the brazilian Luis, and go to sleep. Essentials under the pillow, he does the same. Hahaha
Morning slaps me at 7:30am, Fuck!
I get up, breakfast is free till 10, and I'm in cost control!
A quick shower just to tame my eduard scisor hands hair, and out.
Ceral breakfast, which means weat and milk. Booking the hostel at Alessandro, no rooms for tonight, only 27th...ok, i book the 27th, another 35€ but can't risk it. "And for tonight Peter?", "Try yellow hostel" he says. There goes hugo to Yellow. Very well spoken english by 2 cute girls, that for some reason it seemed they took an interest in the animal here, as they do not have a room for me, but quickly got on the phone and got me a bed! Stargate hostel, but I got to run, so I do. Good girls! Stargate hostel, the name says it all. BUT! 25€... Good on yah girls.
There goes the petulant and guarantees a bed for the night, all paid. I'm not sleeping on the street. Feet on the road. Rome, here goes litle Portuguese boy.
With an adorable little map and a pen in hand to scribble down routes, nathing scares me.
Termini, during the day, opened, it's very appealing. Last night it wasnt as friendly, mainly because of the duzens of homeless people, together lined up, to sleep at the door... Pains the soul.
Withdrawl money, and start my journey. From Via Vicenza to Viale Castro Pretorio i arrive at the Piazza Crôce Rossa, and Rome give me her first hit. Bella, or Molto Bella! The colours, the passing of time, the green and the old orange.
With a rejuvenated soul, as if a dive in cold water, i sontinue to Porta Pia. First monumental monument in this moment. I follow my defined paths and sooner than later, that feeling that reminds me of Belfast, returns. The sense of adventure. The wanting to see, know, belong, discover. It's ALIVE, there is soul, I'm not emotionaly dead! Something I've been dreading these past few days, weeks, months, year.
There's life inside this chest, there's courage. After all, I'm alone in Rome. Might not be that much of a deal in my own head, but in truth, there's some coure about that, with a litle to praise to myself. Alone in Rome, expensive gesture, finantialy risky, but extremely simbolic to me. A liberate, liberty, a will reborn. (Um libertar, liberar, um querer a renascer!) A wanting more, a wanting to deserve. In sum, a moment where finaly value myself, where the first soul I want to save, is mine.
Even the breathing brings new air, and as I write these pages in this end of day, in the centre of Rome, Piazza del Teatro Pompeo, with a wonderful Pizza Napoletana, with anchoves, I dring a wonderful nectar, surrounded by beautiful people, fiery and sexy women. A brown man, from the sin, the sun, or dirt, witha moustache and black shirt plays acordeon while this fresh place cools my day. Ans i think to myself, inside my litle head, quoting the fantastic Canela. I'm living the good things in life. What other man celebrates a destructive and destroying love grief? The end of a life taht extended into a future. A connection that wasn't there for a long time now. what other man, celebrates this depressing phase in his life, and puts an end to it, by going to Rome alone, dine with the natives, as it was taken from a movie?
If there's something I apreciate in me, is the taking risks. Risking it now, and containing myself later. For now I need myself, my madness. To save me from my grief, to my attachment to a big love, that only demanded from my part.
What a great day I had...
What a great day, walked alot. My feet wanted ti see and know as much as my heart. So I did, I walked, ran, enjoyed, paused and had a day like I haven't had in a long time. A day with myself, with my music, with the music froma city, with something new.
In peace.
Money comes and goes, bu days like this, they don't repeat themselves, they're fabricated. How? Living. Life isn't more than living. Counting pennies is wasted time. Not spending beyond the means, no! Save, always! Mas also, spend... for our biggest investment, is ourselves.
Let us spoil oursleves. Not all of us, but most of us, we deserve it. I know I do!
I know that for all the good I did, beyond what would be asked of any man. Got evil, mean, and bitterness that no man deserves. If "karmicaly" I don't feel balanced, i make my own well being.
Enough of venting!
I'm in ROME, feeling GREAT! and would like to go back to my day, that followed to the beautiful and cozy Piazza Sallistio.
But the tables are full, jsut asked for the check, i'm leaving soon. I have my hostel in the other side of Rome. Lot of walking to be done. When I get there I'll continue, promisse. For what's on my soul has to go to paper.
For the very least, todays itinerary. WEll, to myself, and to you book, an anxious see you soon.
- Rome 24/04/2008
quinta-feira, 24 de abril de 2008
Alone
I'm out to Rome alone, me, a back pack, music. And hope. I don't even have money.
I need this, need this time alone, to think about things I shouldn't be thinking. With no temptation, so that I can hopefuly kick this poison from my veins and move on.
I'm out.
See you, when I see you.
I need this, need this time alone, to think about things I shouldn't be thinking. With no temptation, so that I can hopefuly kick this poison from my veins and move on.
I'm out.
See you, when I see you.
terça-feira, 22 de abril de 2008
Insanity
"because you were never realy real, to begin with, I just made you up to hurt myself."
Wirl. Intertwine. Intersecting. Meshed.
Feelings... why?
I let go, but that chain still scars my ankle.
Slowly realising, how hard it is to find true love, just to lose it. Not that I was loved. But finaly that I gave all my love to someone. To lose that...
It's a beautiful day outside, I see that she has moved on. I did no wrong, why can't I move on? Find somewhere to have fun. I'm happy all day, till time comes to sit here. Still think about her all the time, every minute, but I drown it, bury it. SO DEEP, it feels like the very core of my sould is rotten!
It's a cancer, draining the life out of me, for so long, so long. Too long.
She felt like velvet, blond white skin, "like velvet".
Blur, my eyes don't cry but all i see is blur, it's been so hard to keep focus lately. Feels like a constant fading away from reality, drifting into a higher place, where sense is senseless, reason is unreasonable. And words are mute.
Today was good, now it's foggy. I have friends, but where are my brothers? Where are they hugging me? where are the tears silenced in laughter? where are they yelling "together we're invincible"? The weird sounds, the bizarre lights, my hometown, the familiar strangers. Those faces that you never seen before, yet, you can't forget. They remind you of that particular time in your life where, nothing happend.
Reading back it sounds stupid. But thou shall not erase thy posts.
So fuckitall.
Ciao
Wirl. Intertwine. Intersecting. Meshed.
Feelings... why?
I let go, but that chain still scars my ankle.
Slowly realising, how hard it is to find true love, just to lose it. Not that I was loved. But finaly that I gave all my love to someone. To lose that...
It's a beautiful day outside, I see that she has moved on. I did no wrong, why can't I move on? Find somewhere to have fun. I'm happy all day, till time comes to sit here. Still think about her all the time, every minute, but I drown it, bury it. SO DEEP, it feels like the very core of my sould is rotten!
It's a cancer, draining the life out of me, for so long, so long. Too long.
She felt like velvet, blond white skin, "like velvet".
Blur, my eyes don't cry but all i see is blur, it's been so hard to keep focus lately. Feels like a constant fading away from reality, drifting into a higher place, where sense is senseless, reason is unreasonable. And words are mute.
Today was good, now it's foggy. I have friends, but where are my brothers? Where are they hugging me? where are the tears silenced in laughter? where are they yelling "together we're invincible"? The weird sounds, the bizarre lights, my hometown, the familiar strangers. Those faces that you never seen before, yet, you can't forget. They remind you of that particular time in your life where, nothing happend.
Reading back it sounds stupid. But thou shall not erase thy posts.
So fuckitall.
Ciao
sábado, 19 de abril de 2008
Cold day grey.
Today.
Day, the light is out, the sun is not, it's grey. I wake up with a call "let's go out?", let's.
Shower, hygiene, and vanity. Out!
Damn it's cold, and the wind cuts me like a knife. I swim my way down to the Luas, and wait for my friends face peaking out of a door, to know which one to catch. The wind keeps on comming strong, and I start to wonder if a thicker jacket wouldn't show a bit more inteligence from my part, heh, the heck with it. Here he is, I get on.
Morning talk, and plans are made. We get on, me and mister Magalhaes, staring at beautiful women. :D
Out to teh bank, says Batman to Robin. Here and there, we get out hassel lives and afairs done. So down we go to beweleys! Great capuccino in hand, walking down Grafton, through temple bar and merchants way. Reccord stores, we buy stuff.
Shopping shopping shopping.
Checking, and I buy a back pack, for my trip to ROMA!
Somer weird geeky guy gives us a litle puny statuet kinda thing and invites us into a store to paint it, we ran screaming like we were being chaced by Jack in The Shinning.
Lunch, Pizza Hut, not fancy, but fun. Talk is good, pizza to.
On again and we buy a football, Luas home, and off we go to play a bit one on one. Exercising again feels great! Though the realization that I suck at football is kinda frustrating. HAHAHA, anway, alst minute shopping, plans for the night and on I come home.
Alone! Music Blasting in teh shower.
"it's the little things that kill!!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
Tonight i'll be out, single man in dublin... things are bound to happen, just need to be opened to them, and bring on a condom, or two...or a few.
Cocky? maybe, so what?
I'm taking care of me, no one else will do it for me.
And the sexual anxiety is torture!
I needs to get laid man... But can I do it? can I do as my ex did, and just get it on with strangers? I will sure as heel give it a try, tonight. I'm out.
Day, the light is out, the sun is not, it's grey. I wake up with a call "let's go out?", let's.
Shower, hygiene, and vanity. Out!
Damn it's cold, and the wind cuts me like a knife. I swim my way down to the Luas, and wait for my friends face peaking out of a door, to know which one to catch. The wind keeps on comming strong, and I start to wonder if a thicker jacket wouldn't show a bit more inteligence from my part, heh, the heck with it. Here he is, I get on.
Morning talk, and plans are made. We get on, me and mister Magalhaes, staring at beautiful women. :D
Out to teh bank, says Batman to Robin. Here and there, we get out hassel lives and afairs done. So down we go to beweleys! Great capuccino in hand, walking down Grafton, through temple bar and merchants way. Reccord stores, we buy stuff.
Shopping shopping shopping.
Checking, and I buy a back pack, for my trip to ROMA!
Somer weird geeky guy gives us a litle puny statuet kinda thing and invites us into a store to paint it, we ran screaming like we were being chaced by Jack in The Shinning.
Lunch, Pizza Hut, not fancy, but fun. Talk is good, pizza to.
On again and we buy a football, Luas home, and off we go to play a bit one on one. Exercising again feels great! Though the realization that I suck at football is kinda frustrating. HAHAHA, anway, alst minute shopping, plans for the night and on I come home.
Alone! Music Blasting in teh shower.
"it's the little things that kill!!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
Tonight i'll be out, single man in dublin... things are bound to happen, just need to be opened to them, and bring on a condom, or two...or a few.
Cocky? maybe, so what?
I'm taking care of me, no one else will do it for me.
And the sexual anxiety is torture!
I needs to get laid man... But can I do it? can I do as my ex did, and just get it on with strangers? I will sure as heel give it a try, tonight. I'm out.
quinta-feira, 17 de abril de 2008
One in ten
I'm not going to let it go to waste, life is not going to keep me down! I keep on moving, and the stronger the stream, the harder I fucking paddle. It's slow, it's cold, it soaks my bones in grief, pounds my will to the ground. It won't kill, it will make me stronger. "Done, done and i'm on to the next one!"
Love isn't easy to forget, but it's a hell of alot easier to forget than all the pain she brought! But enough about her!
I'M BACK BABY, I'm smilling! I'm joking, not as much as I used to, but I'll get there. And I can't stop quoting "It's times like these you learn to live again".
It's kinda like I was away in greenland, in the cold, dark, no sun. And I just got back home, and saw the sun set, in my home town, my friends are comming up the road, laughing, catching me in the eye, hear their screams, I throw my wrists in the air, and I think. It's good to be home. That feeling, I'm having now. I feel the time going by, and that things are getting better, I'm strong enough to say no, weak enough to say yes, and never leave a kind person with a maybe. I'm am my best, renewed. I am the best I ever was, and improved. "Your trust, you must confess..."
"Are you gone and on to someone new?" I'm not, hope she is... I wish her safe from harm, she was my big life lesson so far.
I'm going to ROME! La bella italia!
I'm excited, alone, out in Rome, no idea where I'm staying, and I don't care. I'm me again, acting, not thinking. I'll survive it, and enjoy it!
I miss me... But I'm comming back, erasing the last 4 years of bad relationships. Cause this year. I have to have a new story to tell, good or drama. (hope no more drama) I want something new.
I used to worrie, "then I thought. Feck it, I'm in Ireland"
I realised I use "I", alot, cause I'm a fucking bastard, I'm Selfish, I'm great, I have a big ego. I'm amazing. me me me me MEEEE.
Time for me, after 22 years, it's deserved! It's due a long time.
Want to be my own role model, my own Hero. "My hero"
Going to have fun dammit!!! Even if it costs lives!
Love isn't easy to forget, but it's a hell of alot easier to forget than all the pain she brought! But enough about her!
I'M BACK BABY, I'm smilling! I'm joking, not as much as I used to, but I'll get there. And I can't stop quoting "It's times like these you learn to live again".
It's kinda like I was away in greenland, in the cold, dark, no sun. And I just got back home, and saw the sun set, in my home town, my friends are comming up the road, laughing, catching me in the eye, hear their screams, I throw my wrists in the air, and I think. It's good to be home. That feeling, I'm having now. I feel the time going by, and that things are getting better, I'm strong enough to say no, weak enough to say yes, and never leave a kind person with a maybe. I'm am my best, renewed. I am the best I ever was, and improved. "Your trust, you must confess..."
"Are you gone and on to someone new?" I'm not, hope she is... I wish her safe from harm, she was my big life lesson so far.
I'm going to ROME! La bella italia!
I'm excited, alone, out in Rome, no idea where I'm staying, and I don't care. I'm me again, acting, not thinking. I'll survive it, and enjoy it!
I miss me... But I'm comming back, erasing the last 4 years of bad relationships. Cause this year. I have to have a new story to tell, good or drama. (hope no more drama) I want something new.
I used to worrie, "then I thought. Feck it, I'm in Ireland"
I realised I use "I", alot, cause I'm a fucking bastard, I'm Selfish, I'm great, I have a big ego. I'm amazing. me me me me MEEEE.
Time for me, after 22 years, it's deserved! It's due a long time.
Want to be my own role model, my own Hero. "My hero"
Going to have fun dammit!!! Even if it costs lives!
terça-feira, 15 de abril de 2008
The end.
And so it comes, she came to me today, telling me she was great. Not asking, still she found it wise to say, she did drugs again. Colapse! But wait!! there's more...
She did a guy too, charming. I'm paranoid, I admit, but she did it. She lived up to her expectations...
After punching in my bones in the wall, I walk off, determined, enter work... All shaking, like I just had a stroke, completly broken, she destoyed me. I'm a shallow empty man. I have nothing... worst day of my life, she wanted to make me feel the worst I ever felt. Kudos, she did it. But later on, I feel great! I feel free... Finaly, I know, she proved me, she never loved me, and I'm a fucking fool. This well is deep, and I hit bottom, but I'll climb up, cause up there, there's someone up there. Somewhere, I'll find peace. My eyes are heavy, all white nights I spent worrying of what might happen, happened. So I can sleep in peace tonight, cause I did my best, and my love is rare, and i don't want to lose it. There's one thing that conforts me, looking back, I'll see this as a learning experience, she'll see this as another fuck up she did, but this time, she'll miss it, cause she won't find love anywere. She's not loavable, she's fuckable, and I loved that snake, and she'll miss that. Not only did she lose love, she lost something real special, a great love. She once told me, I was the love of her life. She treated me like I was dirt, when she realises she was right, and I was the love of her life, I'll be long gone.
Goodbye my love, it's been awful...
She did a guy too, charming. I'm paranoid, I admit, but she did it. She lived up to her expectations...
After punching in my bones in the wall, I walk off, determined, enter work... All shaking, like I just had a stroke, completly broken, she destoyed me. I'm a shallow empty man. I have nothing... worst day of my life, she wanted to make me feel the worst I ever felt. Kudos, she did it. But later on, I feel great! I feel free... Finaly, I know, she proved me, she never loved me, and I'm a fucking fool. This well is deep, and I hit bottom, but I'll climb up, cause up there, there's someone up there. Somewhere, I'll find peace. My eyes are heavy, all white nights I spent worrying of what might happen, happened. So I can sleep in peace tonight, cause I did my best, and my love is rare, and i don't want to lose it. There's one thing that conforts me, looking back, I'll see this as a learning experience, she'll see this as another fuck up she did, but this time, she'll miss it, cause she won't find love anywere. She's not loavable, she's fuckable, and I loved that snake, and she'll miss that. Not only did she lose love, she lost something real special, a great love. She once told me, I was the love of her life. She treated me like I was dirt, when she realises she was right, and I was the love of her life, I'll be long gone.
Goodbye my love, it's been awful...
segunda-feira, 14 de abril de 2008
Late night
"Sucker love is heaven sent.
You pucker up, our passions spent.
My hearts a tart, your bodys rent.
My bodys broken, yours is spent"
How can it be, that I can't stop thinking about her for one minute, not drunk, not asleep, she haunts my dreams.
I blast music into my head, and the sound is her voice laughing at me. I write down my thoughts, and they're all about her. I feel weak, lost, in a haze.
What did I do wrong? She made me doubt my principles. But enough, I am not wrong.
I'll never give in. This is MY life, it made me who I am. If she loved me, she would change, cause who she loves, is a man made of such principles. And if she want's me to lose them for her, it's not love, maybe lust,but even that is doubtful.
I'm getting tired of running, and i can't hide anymore. Not the love i had for her, HAD, nao that I don't have it anymore, but I can't afford to.
Pain is all i get, and she laughs at it, she can go so long, without a call, when she's not alone. But she forgets who was there for her, when no one would. Who held her head, when no one wanted a fuck up.
Guess I didn't do enough to her to earn some respect and loyalty, and some compromises. I gave my life away for her, she gave her life away, period. Just because. I deserve better. Correction. I deserve less. Less bullshit. Less lies, and decievement. Less "forgive me".
Me me me me me, selfish, cause if not, she'll take it all, and there's not much left.
I need it, for someone worthy, someone that truns in her sleep to say I love you, not cause she's awake, but cause her heart is. Someone that holds me, and not cause it's cold, but cause I might go away in her sleep. Someone that I look forward to go to, to have with me, to be my best friend. My muse, my love, my friend.
To bring the out the best in each other. Not the worst. I had enough. 2 years, and back to where we started. All the best, I wish her safe from harm.
You pucker up, our passions spent.
My hearts a tart, your bodys rent.
My bodys broken, yours is spent"
How can it be, that I can't stop thinking about her for one minute, not drunk, not asleep, she haunts my dreams.
I blast music into my head, and the sound is her voice laughing at me. I write down my thoughts, and they're all about her. I feel weak, lost, in a haze.
What did I do wrong? She made me doubt my principles. But enough, I am not wrong.
I'll never give in. This is MY life, it made me who I am. If she loved me, she would change, cause who she loves, is a man made of such principles. And if she want's me to lose them for her, it's not love, maybe lust,but even that is doubtful.
I'm getting tired of running, and i can't hide anymore. Not the love i had for her, HAD, nao that I don't have it anymore, but I can't afford to.
Pain is all i get, and she laughs at it, she can go so long, without a call, when she's not alone. But she forgets who was there for her, when no one would. Who held her head, when no one wanted a fuck up.
Guess I didn't do enough to her to earn some respect and loyalty, and some compromises. I gave my life away for her, she gave her life away, period. Just because. I deserve better. Correction. I deserve less. Less bullshit. Less lies, and decievement. Less "forgive me".
Me me me me me, selfish, cause if not, she'll take it all, and there's not much left.
I need it, for someone worthy, someone that truns in her sleep to say I love you, not cause she's awake, but cause her heart is. Someone that holds me, and not cause it's cold, but cause I might go away in her sleep. Someone that I look forward to go to, to have with me, to be my best friend. My muse, my love, my friend.
To bring the out the best in each other. Not the worst. I had enough. 2 years, and back to where we started. All the best, I wish her safe from harm.
domingo, 13 de abril de 2008
Another weekend
"Yesterday, Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away"
Saturday night, can't stop thinking about her, what she's doing, who she's with.
Do I realy want to hear from her? lies, or bad news, there is no third option.
I go out, try not to think about her, my friend meets me here, and off we go. Can't stop talking about her, about us.
Temple bar, to meet the others, and off we go, by now i'm having a few laughs with a devilish street preformer. And off we go to Aka, again. Fine enough, good friends, beautifull women, oughta take my mind off of her...
We go in, I start the drinking, wiskey, for starters, i'm not proud, but it helps not to think. And so goes the night, drink, talk, dance! And drink some more.
At some point i'm talking to Pedro, a bit tipsy and I don't even notice these two girls that came up to me and started to undo the buttons on my blazer...
Off goes the blazer, off goes the Ireland jacket, and the tshirt was on the way, when i finaly said woa! But on they go on their knees, my belt is gone and the pants undone, and now I have these two snakes crawling up and down me like i'm a strip pole, and rubbing themselves on me, no reaction though. All I can think about is her, so I tell them my wife was not thinking it was funny, and they scram!
Stupid me, she's probably out somewhere drunk with some guy...
What does idiot do? he shoots 2 straight wiskeys, and orders another one with ice.
And the night just glides away...
I go home, alone. And i try to sleep. Getting up every 2 hours. Dreamed of her doing drugs, dreamed of her with other men, dreamed of her in past mistakes, dreamed of me dying...twice. Not an easy night. Still... I got trough it, and today i'm depressed, she has power over me, and she won't let go. I have to break free, i deserver better than a maybe!
I'm living 50 years ahead of my era, and i feel very lost...
Love, it's love that keeps me awake, worried and paranoid. But it's her actions that hurt the most. Her words that pain the most.
I need out. And i'm running out of options.
"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose,
Nothing don't mean nothing honey if it ain't free, now now.
And feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues,
You know feeling good was good enough for me"
Now I need a place to hide away"
Saturday night, can't stop thinking about her, what she's doing, who she's with.
Do I realy want to hear from her? lies, or bad news, there is no third option.
I go out, try not to think about her, my friend meets me here, and off we go. Can't stop talking about her, about us.
Temple bar, to meet the others, and off we go, by now i'm having a few laughs with a devilish street preformer. And off we go to Aka, again. Fine enough, good friends, beautifull women, oughta take my mind off of her...
We go in, I start the drinking, wiskey, for starters, i'm not proud, but it helps not to think. And so goes the night, drink, talk, dance! And drink some more.
At some point i'm talking to Pedro, a bit tipsy and I don't even notice these two girls that came up to me and started to undo the buttons on my blazer...
Off goes the blazer, off goes the Ireland jacket, and the tshirt was on the way, when i finaly said woa! But on they go on their knees, my belt is gone and the pants undone, and now I have these two snakes crawling up and down me like i'm a strip pole, and rubbing themselves on me, no reaction though. All I can think about is her, so I tell them my wife was not thinking it was funny, and they scram!
Stupid me, she's probably out somewhere drunk with some guy...
What does idiot do? he shoots 2 straight wiskeys, and orders another one with ice.
And the night just glides away...
I go home, alone. And i try to sleep. Getting up every 2 hours. Dreamed of her doing drugs, dreamed of her with other men, dreamed of her in past mistakes, dreamed of me dying...twice. Not an easy night. Still... I got trough it, and today i'm depressed, she has power over me, and she won't let go. I have to break free, i deserver better than a maybe!
I'm living 50 years ahead of my era, and i feel very lost...
Love, it's love that keeps me awake, worried and paranoid. But it's her actions that hurt the most. Her words that pain the most.
I need out. And i'm running out of options.
"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose,
Nothing don't mean nothing honey if it ain't free, now now.
And feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues,
You know feeling good was good enough for me"
sexta-feira, 11 de abril de 2008
Night
Being alone, it's harder in a big bed. But is it better to be with her, in a pool of my discarded principals?
I'm lost again. Shite.
I'm lost again. Shite.
quarta-feira, 9 de abril de 2008
Scrub
Scrub my stains away... still, i feel a bit, atached.
Heaven, i wish i had someone to share it with, good food, nice house, nice job, great friends. Still the past is foggy and secretive.
i'll never tell.....
Heaven, i wish i had someone to share it with, good food, nice house, nice job, great friends. Still the past is foggy and secretive.
i'll never tell.....
domingo, 6 de abril de 2008
I feel love...
I wish I would, this past week has been hard. Longing, missing, the good, and i have to keep strong, to remember the bad. Cause it's what i get, poison...
Can´t go back to that. Specialy cause i never....felt love.
STILL, i can dig the bass.
Can´t go back to that. Specialy cause i never....felt love.
STILL, i can dig the bass.
terça-feira, 25 de março de 2008
Um adeus
A pedido das massas, que é como quem diz, houve um gaijo que falou nisso uma vez, assim ao calhas. Vou passar a escrever isto em inglês. Até que bata a saudade e volte a madre lingua.
So...
It's over. Relieved? Yes... Ashamed to say it? not at all.
No change! How can I deal with the not knowing? She still thinks it's fine, and she put a dagger through my chest that weekend telling me so.
I can't bear to take pain from someone that, obviously, can so easily get over me. Apologies are nice. But not when they become a habbit. No effort to avoid them.
So I guess, for the both of us, the best is to move on. I'll eventualy stop caring, and wondering. And she can go back to whatever she wants. It will no longer be my burden to care and fix, someone that doesn't want to be helped. "You can lead a horse to the water, but you can't make it drink"
I lead this horse to the water, she's not thirsty. ahahaha
Ho well, at least we got some fun out of it.
Specialy her, and all the bullshit she still brags about in NZ. And how wonderfull London is... as if I don't know...
Well, it's my fault to let her mistake kindness for weekness. Time to stand my ground.
It's done, over. End. And bag it, cause it's trash.
Bye...
It hurts, but mostly cause it's a relieve...
So...
It's over. Relieved? Yes... Ashamed to say it? not at all.
No change! How can I deal with the not knowing? She still thinks it's fine, and she put a dagger through my chest that weekend telling me so.
I can't bear to take pain from someone that, obviously, can so easily get over me. Apologies are nice. But not when they become a habbit. No effort to avoid them.
So I guess, for the both of us, the best is to move on. I'll eventualy stop caring, and wondering. And she can go back to whatever she wants. It will no longer be my burden to care and fix, someone that doesn't want to be helped. "You can lead a horse to the water, but you can't make it drink"
I lead this horse to the water, she's not thirsty. ahahaha
Ho well, at least we got some fun out of it.
Specialy her, and all the bullshit she still brags about in NZ. And how wonderfull London is... as if I don't know...
Well, it's my fault to let her mistake kindness for weekness. Time to stand my ground.
It's done, over. End. And bag it, cause it's trash.
Bye...
It hurts, but mostly cause it's a relieve...
segunda-feira, 17 de março de 2008
Skerries
E ai está... Fim de semana em Skerries, eu e a Rhi. O choque de titãs.
Altos e baixos, discussões, as drogas, o passado, sempre sempre a mesma coisa.
Sexo, muito. Alias, só o sexo nos impedia de estar a discutir... ou então o dormir. Mas até ai era difícil, "mexes-te muito" "mexes-te pouco" "estas frio" "estas quente" "estas perto" "estas longe"... não há paciência.
Primeira noite passa,e primeira manha também, e almoça-se um passeio. Vemos os porto de pesca, os pescadores, o marisco. As focas a volta do barcos a espera do peixe que vai borda fora.
Voltamos a casa, e aos lençóis. Tantos preservativos, tão pouco tempo.
Celebramos os aniversário dela, 30. Não tem paciência, esta cansada, não quer sair. Esta cansada não quer sair para jantar. Mas não está cansada para outros efeitos. Dou-lhe a prenda, ela gosta ou faz que gosta. Já não quero saber, para alguém que me prometeu mudar. Esta tudo na mesma. Não há relação, só sexo. Por muito que ela me ame. Não há amor...
Enfim, faço por aproveitar ao máximo o resto do fim de semana. Ela usa-me, eu uso-a. Somos fantoches nas mãos um do outro, e não faz mal, não dá para mais.
Dia seguinte, party girl is out. Já não está cansada para os "amigos" dela, gente que a leva de volta a maus caminhos. Já é adulta, mais que adulta, se não muda é porque não quer. Eu fiz o que podia, 22 tenho a minha vida para viver. E convém-me que seja de uma maneira feliz. Adeus Rhi.
Amanha é outro dia, e a Irlanda... está cheia de gente especial ;)
Altos e baixos, discussões, as drogas, o passado, sempre sempre a mesma coisa.
Sexo, muito. Alias, só o sexo nos impedia de estar a discutir... ou então o dormir. Mas até ai era difícil, "mexes-te muito" "mexes-te pouco" "estas frio" "estas quente" "estas perto" "estas longe"... não há paciência.
Primeira noite passa,e primeira manha também, e almoça-se um passeio. Vemos os porto de pesca, os pescadores, o marisco. As focas a volta do barcos a espera do peixe que vai borda fora.
Voltamos a casa, e aos lençóis. Tantos preservativos, tão pouco tempo.
Celebramos os aniversário dela, 30. Não tem paciência, esta cansada, não quer sair. Esta cansada não quer sair para jantar. Mas não está cansada para outros efeitos. Dou-lhe a prenda, ela gosta ou faz que gosta. Já não quero saber, para alguém que me prometeu mudar. Esta tudo na mesma. Não há relação, só sexo. Por muito que ela me ame. Não há amor...
Enfim, faço por aproveitar ao máximo o resto do fim de semana. Ela usa-me, eu uso-a. Somos fantoches nas mãos um do outro, e não faz mal, não dá para mais.
Dia seguinte, party girl is out. Já não está cansada para os "amigos" dela, gente que a leva de volta a maus caminhos. Já é adulta, mais que adulta, se não muda é porque não quer. Eu fiz o que podia, 22 tenho a minha vida para viver. E convém-me que seja de uma maneira feliz. Adeus Rhi.
Amanha é outro dia, e a Irlanda... está cheia de gente especial ;)
segunda-feira, 10 de março de 2008
O fim da semana
Hey hey, mantendo os meus peeps actualizados, este fim de semana foi para o relax! Foi arrumar malas, tratar de dinheiro e documentação e afins. E fui ao Starbucks, café da merda. Não gostei.
E relaxei. Agora é tarde. Amanha escrevo mais. Ainda estou vivo.... meus pindéricos.
E relaxei. Agora é tarde. Amanha escrevo mais. Ainda estou vivo.... meus pindéricos.
segunda-feira, 3 de março de 2008
Linha de arranque
Ai o arranque do dia, acordado por dois estranhos, bem dispostos que me contemplam a partir do balcão da cozinha. Acordo, tento ser o mais cordial que se consegue ser as 8 da manha. Banho e higiene, e la vamos trabalhar, eu e esta nova amiga, a Mara. Ruma-mos a BarclayCard, formação apresentação e tal, grupo grande, instruções em Inglês. Italianos e Portugueses tudo junto, que confusão.
Almoço, Dunnes store, compro um Pilau de arroz e caril, para meter no microwave 2 minutos e comer. Menos de 2 euro, o orçamento é curto.
Come-se, conversa-se e retorna-se, ao trabalho. 4 horas. SAÍDA! Merecida, casa do Telmitu, leitinho e entretanto lá chegam eles. Falamos, entediamos e vemos Family Guy, adormeço. Acabo por me deitar no saco cama, e dormir noite adentro. Dia curto.
Estava exausto... amanha há mais.
Almoço, Dunnes store, compro um Pilau de arroz e caril, para meter no microwave 2 minutos e comer. Menos de 2 euro, o orçamento é curto.
Come-se, conversa-se e retorna-se, ao trabalho. 4 horas. SAÍDA! Merecida, casa do Telmitu, leitinho e entretanto lá chegam eles. Falamos, entediamos e vemos Family Guy, adormeço. Acabo por me deitar no saco cama, e dormir noite adentro. Dia curto.
Estava exausto... amanha há mais.
domingo, 2 de março de 2008
Baba e Ranho.
Ora ai esta, saido de casa madrugador, tudo a ultima feito, como é bom hábito português. Lá vai o Hugo, para Campanhã, malas de arrasto, 80 kilinhos, o peso da minha vida empacotada.
Corro para o comboio, e maravilha das maravilhas, o primeiro sinal de Deus, que este dia era de castigo para mim, rebenta-se-me a tira do saco. Toca a pegar em 30 kilos a punho e dar resumo a corrida.
Chora-se baba e ranho nos 30 segundos que sobra, porque o comboio já ameaça sair da estação.
5:47 am
E lá arranco, rumo a Lisboa, sono, pouco, mesmo nao dormindo ha uns dias. Viagem seca, sem eventos, e lá chegamos a Lisboa, com os modestos 30 minutos de atraso, longa vida á CP.
Oriente, coisa estranha, em terras de mouraria, la pergunto a menina muito gira por sinal; "onde posso eu apanhar um taxi", ao que ela responde, "pode-me seguir, que eu também vou apanhar", fosse eu pessoa mais vulgar, comentava agora aqui a frase infeliz desta jovem, mas vou conter-me.
Lá sigo eu a jovem, e apos descer as escadas com as minha fantasticas malas de peso record, vou ajudar a menina, que fica muito grata, mas não ao ponto de me dar o seu numero, ora bem, consolo-me com o beijinho na face.
Taximetro a rolar, e lá vamos nós avenida Berlim abaixo. Chego ao aeroporto, sigo para o check in, entretanto ligo ao meu amiguito do coração Telmo, a receber a encomenda de produtos nicotinados, chega a minha vez, não há B.I. nos bolsinhos do Hugo, ele bem procura, mas nao adianta, porque ele não esta lá. Está sim na sua fotocopiadora em casa, ora bolas. Na realidade, na altura saiu-me mais um PUTA QUE PARIU, mas pronto.
Vais-se a portway, fazer o choradinho, não cola.
Vai-se ao S.E.F.(Serviço de Estrangeiros e Fronteiras), também não resulta.
Vai-se aos serviços alfandegários, niente.
Desiste-se...
Voo parte, e Pais também, rumo a sul, munidos do meu B.I.
Dirijo-me a Geotur, peço um voo, para hoje ainda, barato, Dublin! Menina gira, muito prestavel, vê voos, de traz para a frente durante uma hora, levanto-me do meu assento-mala, e vou comprar a Blitz. E sento-me a ler junto da menina de novo, lendo os highlights para ambos ouvirmos, e decido ir dar uma volta, ao que ela diz, "deixa-me o teu numero, assim ligo-te se encontar algo", ao que eu respondo "dá só um toque, que eu ando por ai e venho ca ter", ao que ela retribui "mas o telefone aparece privado", retribuo eu, "se for privado não atendo, nem depois sei quem sera", ao que ela para mui contentamento meu responde, "eu dou um toque do meu telemovel", "optimo" respondo eu. E sigo comprar uma Frize.20 minutos depois, lá recebo o toque, e penso para mim "este número já cá canta"
Ao fim de 2 horas e 10 minutos, chega o papa e a mama, com o B.I. do idiota (yours trully)
Entretanto, entre flirts e voos, lá se arranjou alternativa, Lisboa-Barcelona, Barcelona-Dublin.
Compra-se Bilhete.
E corre-se para o check in, bagagem extra, ou seja, peso a mais. Agora corre-se para o balcão groundforce, para pagar o peso a mais... 120 euros, ouch.
Corre-se para o almoço, um wrap de atum. Coisas estranhas estes Lisboetas, boa gente, mas estranhos.
Mais um adeus, mais baba e ranho... adeus, adeus. Goodnight, goodnight, parting is such sweet sorrow.
E lá vou eu, voo no calor. Sandocha rasca da TAP. e voo rápido no ar reutilizado.
Aterro aterrado, no calor de Barcelona, arriba nuestros hermanos que no hablan ingles...
Sigo rumo as cintas onde saem as malas. Passando as portas de segurança, chegando as cintas... sitio errado, pergunto com o meu muy malo español, "mira, lo ha mas cintas al otro lado ?" si...
Porra, la vou eu, saio em arrivals, e precorro este monstruoso aeroporto, até a zona de controlo de segurança. Tento explicar com o meu espanhol ao Shô segurança, o que se passou, e modéstia a parte até me saí bastante bem no meu espanhol, e la sou revistado, ao tirar o cinto, estrago o cinto... que belo dia este não é?
Lá dou com as minhas malas, esperando no chão, junto á cinta que lhes pertenceu. Pego nos mastodontes e saio para as arrivals novamente, ponto de informações.
Menina sorridente, mas com um imperceptível inglês... lá saco a informação desejada, dando uso ao meu espanhol. Viva nuestros hermanos...
Procurei e ao fim de uma caminhada de 15 minutos até a outra ponta do aeroporto de Barcelona, num refundido, repescado, recatado recanto, encontro os cacifos que tanto procurei!
E milagre dos milagres, o primeiro espanhoile que speaka inglish é um senhor grisalho, nos 50 e tais, que mui prestavelmente me assiste.
E parto rumo a Barcelona, "mira, qual es lo autobus para la marina?....coño"
E la vou eu. uma penosa hora depois, vejo a marina, telemovel cai no autobus, e depois teima em não ligar, a palavra que aqui usei creio ter sido um , CARALHO, ou um FODASSE!, e pronto aproveitei um solzinho, e corri de volta ao aeroporto.
De volta ao aeroporto, entro numa smileyshop, compro uns postais, e para tão monstruoso edifício, só existe um misero posto de internet, um computador fixo de teclas metalica, e um rato esférico fixo, estilo trackball...
Sou obrigadp a espera pela saida de uma temivel criatura, colada em sites de fotos de gatos, equanto isso entretenho-me no flirt com a menina da loja, que também gosta de Muse, e já viu tool ao vivo e tal, a coisa é gira, mas quero ir a net....desespero, vê-se uns mails, manda-se uns mails. E siga!
Next thing, check in... mostro bilhete, pesam-se as malas, e nada me prepara para o que ai vem...
Malas em excesso, ok ja estava a contar. Preço.
Diz a menina no seu asqueroso inglês 3330 euros!
Ao que eu gentilmente retribuo, "O QUÊ??????", e ela insiste 3330 euros... peço um superior. Que também me diz 3330 euros, ao que eu digo "that's four digits" e levanto 4 dedos. Este gesto despertou o neurónio que ambas estas criaturas partilhavam, e eles corrigem-se "333 euros"...
Assim que acabo de tremer e gaguejar, pago. fico com dinheiro a justa.
Alguém corre para o superior da moça a perguntar o porque da demora, ao que ele responde "acabei de contar 333 euros a mão de bagagem extra", ao que a personagem recém chegada, abre a boca e resvalece do seu ponto de equilíbrio. Se ele se sente assim, como me sentirei eu, a quem o dinheiro saiu do bolso?
La vou eu para a zona de embarque, cansado, suado, esfomeado, e teso!
A musica no ouvido, e as horas a passar, 21:20, hora de embarque, e nada se passa. voo atrasado. 15 minutos...
1 Hora depois, embarcamos, fazemos-nos a pista e lá esperamos mais 15 minutos até descolarmos.
Finalmente apos 20 horas a arrastar 80 kilinhos de malas de traz para a frente, Dublin aqui vou eu.
Exausto, e fatigado. Fustigado até!
Dormir, até dormia, não estivesse ao meu lado um enormesco irlandês com arctic monkeys full blast no seu mp3... viagem de 2 horas e 30 minutos de arctic mokeys... é dose!
La chegamos, eu exausto, e farto de arctic monkeys. Assim que me dirijo a manga de saida do avião, bate-me a dura e fria realidade irlandesa. temperaturas desumanas. O Gelo!
E eu a vestir o meu casaco na saída, com os tripulantes de bordo a manda vir comigo, e eu a mandar vir com eles.
Lá vou eu de novo arrastar as minhas malas até ao aircoach, pelo qual ainda tive que esperar ali no frio. E lá partimos, aircoach, com destino a burton hall road, sandyford.
Pelo caminho o shõ motorista para, e pergunta onde saímos?, tem até de acordar 2 belas e embriagadas moças, que lhe respondem á pergunta "where are you going?", "home" dizem elas... que fofas, e que bêbedas... na segunda passagem vira-se este homem para mim no bom português de Portugal, "vais sair em burton hall road é?", salto do banco e gera-se a conversa, Sérgio, ido para a Itália, chegado da Bélgica, e à 10 meses na Irlanda, nascido e criado em Rio Tinto! Dois dedos de conversa, uma ajudinha com as malas, e la vamos a caminhos diferentes, onde este homem se despede com a seguinte frase "faço o horário das 10 as 6 da manha, se precisares de ajuda ou tiveres a rasca, apanhas o bus, e falas comigo", gente do norte é outra coisa, tenho dito!
E lá vem o Telmo, a correr de capucho, e quase ouço na minha cabeça, enquanto o imagino a correr em slow motion "I can be your hero baby!..." HAHAHA
Abraço, com saudades deste amigo! E fazemos-nos ao caminho, conversa em dia, conto o meu dia. Mais a frente passa o Sérgio, e oferece boleia, recusamos, estamos a chegar.
Seguimos caminho, e em casa del Telmo magnifico! a santa da sua moça a Ana, esta ainda acordada as 3 da manha, para me fazer uma comidinha caseira! Uns peitinhos de frango e um arrozinho... do melhor. Distribui-se o tabaco e os Beirões!
Conto-lhes o meu dia. E é hora de dormir. E
precisamente 24 horas após a minha partida, dá-se a minha chegada.
Deito-me e respiro fundo, amanha trabalho.
Hoje durmo, e acho, que mereci este sono.
Amanha, há mais, espero eu que não tanto. Mas as aventuras, são boas e más. No fundo...
Estou feliz...
Corro para o comboio, e maravilha das maravilhas, o primeiro sinal de Deus, que este dia era de castigo para mim, rebenta-se-me a tira do saco. Toca a pegar em 30 kilos a punho e dar resumo a corrida.
Chora-se baba e ranho nos 30 segundos que sobra, porque o comboio já ameaça sair da estação.
5:47 am
E lá arranco, rumo a Lisboa, sono, pouco, mesmo nao dormindo ha uns dias. Viagem seca, sem eventos, e lá chegamos a Lisboa, com os modestos 30 minutos de atraso, longa vida á CP.
Oriente, coisa estranha, em terras de mouraria, la pergunto a menina muito gira por sinal; "onde posso eu apanhar um taxi", ao que ela responde, "pode-me seguir, que eu também vou apanhar", fosse eu pessoa mais vulgar, comentava agora aqui a frase infeliz desta jovem, mas vou conter-me.
Lá sigo eu a jovem, e apos descer as escadas com as minha fantasticas malas de peso record, vou ajudar a menina, que fica muito grata, mas não ao ponto de me dar o seu numero, ora bem, consolo-me com o beijinho na face.
Taximetro a rolar, e lá vamos nós avenida Berlim abaixo. Chego ao aeroporto, sigo para o check in, entretanto ligo ao meu amiguito do coração Telmo, a receber a encomenda de produtos nicotinados, chega a minha vez, não há B.I. nos bolsinhos do Hugo, ele bem procura, mas nao adianta, porque ele não esta lá. Está sim na sua fotocopiadora em casa, ora bolas. Na realidade, na altura saiu-me mais um PUTA QUE PARIU, mas pronto.
Vais-se a portway, fazer o choradinho, não cola.
Vai-se ao S.E.F.(Serviço de Estrangeiros e Fronteiras), também não resulta.
Vai-se aos serviços alfandegários, niente.
Desiste-se...
Voo parte, e Pais também, rumo a sul, munidos do meu B.I.
Dirijo-me a Geotur, peço um voo, para hoje ainda, barato, Dublin! Menina gira, muito prestavel, vê voos, de traz para a frente durante uma hora, levanto-me do meu assento-mala, e vou comprar a Blitz. E sento-me a ler junto da menina de novo, lendo os highlights para ambos ouvirmos, e decido ir dar uma volta, ao que ela diz, "deixa-me o teu numero, assim ligo-te se encontar algo", ao que eu respondo "dá só um toque, que eu ando por ai e venho ca ter", ao que ela retribui "mas o telefone aparece privado", retribuo eu, "se for privado não atendo, nem depois sei quem sera", ao que ela para mui contentamento meu responde, "eu dou um toque do meu telemovel", "optimo" respondo eu. E sigo comprar uma Frize.20 minutos depois, lá recebo o toque, e penso para mim "este número já cá canta"
Ao fim de 2 horas e 10 minutos, chega o papa e a mama, com o B.I. do idiota (yours trully)
Entretanto, entre flirts e voos, lá se arranjou alternativa, Lisboa-Barcelona, Barcelona-Dublin.
Compra-se Bilhete.
E corre-se para o check in, bagagem extra, ou seja, peso a mais. Agora corre-se para o balcão groundforce, para pagar o peso a mais... 120 euros, ouch.
Corre-se para o almoço, um wrap de atum. Coisas estranhas estes Lisboetas, boa gente, mas estranhos.
Mais um adeus, mais baba e ranho... adeus, adeus. Goodnight, goodnight, parting is such sweet sorrow.
E lá vou eu, voo no calor. Sandocha rasca da TAP. e voo rápido no ar reutilizado.
Aterro aterrado, no calor de Barcelona, arriba nuestros hermanos que no hablan ingles...
Sigo rumo as cintas onde saem as malas. Passando as portas de segurança, chegando as cintas... sitio errado, pergunto com o meu muy malo español, "mira, lo ha mas cintas al otro lado ?" si...
Porra, la vou eu, saio em arrivals, e precorro este monstruoso aeroporto, até a zona de controlo de segurança. Tento explicar com o meu espanhol ao Shô segurança, o que se passou, e modéstia a parte até me saí bastante bem no meu espanhol, e la sou revistado, ao tirar o cinto, estrago o cinto... que belo dia este não é?
Lá dou com as minhas malas, esperando no chão, junto á cinta que lhes pertenceu. Pego nos mastodontes e saio para as arrivals novamente, ponto de informações.
Menina sorridente, mas com um imperceptível inglês... lá saco a informação desejada, dando uso ao meu espanhol. Viva nuestros hermanos...
Procurei e ao fim de uma caminhada de 15 minutos até a outra ponta do aeroporto de Barcelona, num refundido, repescado, recatado recanto, encontro os cacifos que tanto procurei!
E milagre dos milagres, o primeiro espanhoile que speaka inglish é um senhor grisalho, nos 50 e tais, que mui prestavelmente me assiste.
E parto rumo a Barcelona, "mira, qual es lo autobus para la marina?....coño"
E la vou eu. uma penosa hora depois, vejo a marina, telemovel cai no autobus, e depois teima em não ligar, a palavra que aqui usei creio ter sido um , CARALHO, ou um FODASSE!, e pronto aproveitei um solzinho, e corri de volta ao aeroporto.
De volta ao aeroporto, entro numa smileyshop, compro uns postais, e para tão monstruoso edifício, só existe um misero posto de internet, um computador fixo de teclas metalica, e um rato esférico fixo, estilo trackball...
Sou obrigadp a espera pela saida de uma temivel criatura, colada em sites de fotos de gatos, equanto isso entretenho-me no flirt com a menina da loja, que também gosta de Muse, e já viu tool ao vivo e tal, a coisa é gira, mas quero ir a net....desespero, vê-se uns mails, manda-se uns mails. E siga!
Next thing, check in... mostro bilhete, pesam-se as malas, e nada me prepara para o que ai vem...
Malas em excesso, ok ja estava a contar. Preço.
Diz a menina no seu asqueroso inglês 3330 euros!
Ao que eu gentilmente retribuo, "O QUÊ??????", e ela insiste 3330 euros... peço um superior. Que também me diz 3330 euros, ao que eu digo "that's four digits" e levanto 4 dedos. Este gesto despertou o neurónio que ambas estas criaturas partilhavam, e eles corrigem-se "333 euros"...
Assim que acabo de tremer e gaguejar, pago. fico com dinheiro a justa.
Alguém corre para o superior da moça a perguntar o porque da demora, ao que ele responde "acabei de contar 333 euros a mão de bagagem extra", ao que a personagem recém chegada, abre a boca e resvalece do seu ponto de equilíbrio. Se ele se sente assim, como me sentirei eu, a quem o dinheiro saiu do bolso?
La vou eu para a zona de embarque, cansado, suado, esfomeado, e teso!
A musica no ouvido, e as horas a passar, 21:20, hora de embarque, e nada se passa. voo atrasado. 15 minutos...
1 Hora depois, embarcamos, fazemos-nos a pista e lá esperamos mais 15 minutos até descolarmos.
Finalmente apos 20 horas a arrastar 80 kilinhos de malas de traz para a frente, Dublin aqui vou eu.
Exausto, e fatigado. Fustigado até!
Dormir, até dormia, não estivesse ao meu lado um enormesco irlandês com arctic monkeys full blast no seu mp3... viagem de 2 horas e 30 minutos de arctic mokeys... é dose!
La chegamos, eu exausto, e farto de arctic monkeys. Assim que me dirijo a manga de saida do avião, bate-me a dura e fria realidade irlandesa. temperaturas desumanas. O Gelo!
E eu a vestir o meu casaco na saída, com os tripulantes de bordo a manda vir comigo, e eu a mandar vir com eles.
Lá vou eu de novo arrastar as minhas malas até ao aircoach, pelo qual ainda tive que esperar ali no frio. E lá partimos, aircoach, com destino a burton hall road, sandyford.
Pelo caminho o shõ motorista para, e pergunta onde saímos?, tem até de acordar 2 belas e embriagadas moças, que lhe respondem á pergunta "where are you going?", "home" dizem elas... que fofas, e que bêbedas... na segunda passagem vira-se este homem para mim no bom português de Portugal, "vais sair em burton hall road é?", salto do banco e gera-se a conversa, Sérgio, ido para a Itália, chegado da Bélgica, e à 10 meses na Irlanda, nascido e criado em Rio Tinto! Dois dedos de conversa, uma ajudinha com as malas, e la vamos a caminhos diferentes, onde este homem se despede com a seguinte frase "faço o horário das 10 as 6 da manha, se precisares de ajuda ou tiveres a rasca, apanhas o bus, e falas comigo", gente do norte é outra coisa, tenho dito!
E lá vem o Telmo, a correr de capucho, e quase ouço na minha cabeça, enquanto o imagino a correr em slow motion "I can be your hero baby!..." HAHAHA
Abraço, com saudades deste amigo! E fazemos-nos ao caminho, conversa em dia, conto o meu dia. Mais a frente passa o Sérgio, e oferece boleia, recusamos, estamos a chegar.
Seguimos caminho, e em casa del Telmo magnifico! a santa da sua moça a Ana, esta ainda acordada as 3 da manha, para me fazer uma comidinha caseira! Uns peitinhos de frango e um arrozinho... do melhor. Distribui-se o tabaco e os Beirões!
Conto-lhes o meu dia. E é hora de dormir. E
precisamente 24 horas após a minha partida, dá-se a minha chegada.
Deito-me e respiro fundo, amanha trabalho.
Hoje durmo, e acho, que mereci este sono.
Amanha, há mais, espero eu que não tanto. Mas as aventuras, são boas e más. No fundo...
Estou feliz...
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