These people I'm supposed to work with here are real annoying. They're so square minded, and they can never appreciate anything one does. They always worry too much about everything they do...I rather just do stuff, whatever it happens...but they're so bloody fussy. Everything has to be perfect in a dumb way, it's really irritating.
The relationship I have with this guy I mentioned earlier is the only thing that makes things bearable. Actually, he recently said he's glad I'm staying here longer. He says I shouldn't worry too much about the people I have to work with. He said they're like big obstacles you have to go through. Of course, it would be a lot easier if the obstacles weren't there, but they are there and you have to learn cope with them!

My dad seems kinda worried of this relationship between me and C....coz he's older I guess. So he just spends a lot of time giving him shit...he has also started breaking my balls recently.
Yesterday, he basically said that C. might be a fun guy to go out with. But that he lacks culture and shit, and he's not happy about me hanging out with him.
After having said this, he was perhaps expecting me to have changed my mind.,..but I could feel nothing but despise for him, coz he can be so damn square.
I just let him know that it's the first time I meet a person who is so open and rich of experiences, and that I'm learning a lot from him.
But of course, this made things even worse (I can only imagine what he started thinking about) so I just left, furious.
It's so boring and depressing to see people like this, dedicated exclusively to work and nothing else. They just want to achieve, achieve and achieve. Nothing else seems to matter to them.
Of course, I realize it's not fair to judge other people only by comparing them to myself...and since I'm already quite busy trying to figure out something about myself, I'd probably better just leaving them alone.
But I have to live in this place and have some kind of relationship with these people so...

In the middle of all this, at least I have met one bearable person. It's a girl, B. She's nice, at least she can be honest with me. We've been hanging out recently. She's not from here, she's staying here with her auntie now...
it's not a very good situation for her here, coz her auntie is really irritanting and stuff, she's alone so she's got nothing else to hold on but her nephew.
So yes, she's kinda stuck with this old woman.

Dunno...not even sure what I'm blathering about.

I am starting, for what it is possible, to settle down here. The good thing is that there's stuff to do, there's new people, quite cool folks too, actually. I met this older guy, I'll just call him C., and I must say I don't remember feeling so much admiration for a person. He is so smart and open and has a completely personal view of everything. He's very sweet too, he got immediately interested in me, we just started chatting on a random occasion and carried on and on for like hours. He doesn't seem to mind at all that I'm younger...

There's nothing in the world like having a person you can talk openly and honestly with when you need to, I think. 

I arrived yesterday. I feel very alone, but I'm trying and be cool about it. A happy heart can bear everything...happy heart? haha, LOL...sometimes I write such random stuff. And to think that I wouldn't need that much to be the happiest boy in the world. I know, I know...with all the people that, having little more than nothing, manage to be satisfied, happy with themselves, I, on the other, miserable hand, continuously whine about my strengths and my qualities? I could easily do with half of such qualities, if only I could have some more self - esteem. 

Well, let's keep calm. Things will get better. I can feel it already. After a period of quasi complete self - inflicted isolation, to be again among people makes me feel better.  Because yes, sometimes I still forget that each one of us needs to relate in a way or the other to other people or other things and that loneliness can be more dangerous than it seems. Our imagination, pushed by our will to elevate ourselves, and fed by dreams and art, can build such incredible creatures that, if put among them, we seem to be of the lowest kind. And everything outside ourselves seems to us to be better, perfect. We sometimes feel that we are lacking something and it's exactly what we lack that most frequently attribute to the others. In the others, we also reflect a better, idealized version of ourselves. And here it is, the perfect creature, entirely created by us (a god). 

If, on the other hand, we keep everything to ourselves, we end up believing that everybody else is in competition with , or against, us. And we become envious, frustrated. 

What  a night...I can stand anything now. I'm not going to see him again. Why don't I have someone to talk to about this? Just sitting here breathing, trying to keep calm. 

Yes, he's probably been sleeping without a worry in the world, he doesn't know he's never gonna see me again! But I'm free; I managed to keep it secret during the last time we talked. 

His girlfriend at told me to go to his house after dinner. They were going to be in the garden. I spent a long time on their balcony, looking at the sun that, for me, seemed to be setting for the last time. So many times I had been there with him watching that brilliant scene, and now...

I walked up and down the little path that leads to the garden, thinking of how, when we had just met, we found this secret spot covered with leaves, which we both loved. It's like a tiny secret den that one can get in, and it's the most isolated place in the world. I still remember the strange sensation I felt when I first went in it. It felt like a sort of omen of everything, good and bad, that was yet to come. 

So, anyway, I'd been thinking about all this, when I heard them coming up. I ran to meet them and we all went down again and, while we walked, the moon came out. 

We sat down on a bench P. in the middle, very uneasy. I couldn't even stay seated...I was so nervous. I got up, walked up and down, stopped. 

P. noticed the beauty of the moonlight on the treetops. Then there was silence. Then he said something like: 

" Every time I see this light I start thinking of immortality. We will definitely exist forever. But( and he looked at me) will we meet again? will we know each other? What do you think Oscar?"

And I said: " Yes, I think we will meet again...I guess. "

This conversation wasn't a good idea from the beginning, because it made P. think about his mother, who passed away some time ago. 

He was practically crying....

So his girlfriend tried to console him, saying that he was thinking too much about death and stuff like that. He was really upset, couldn't cheer up. 

He told us about the last time he saw her before she died, how she had whispered something to him that he's never gonna tell anybody. 

M., P's girlfriend, was there when she died. 

She hugged him and he hugged her back, sobbing. Then he got up, and I was just there, really shaken. He said that it was time to go, but I touched his shoulder and said: " We will meet each other again. Now I'm leaving, but it is because I want to leave. It's not forever, it's never forever. Bye. We'll see each other again.."

" Tomorrow, maybe" said P. half smiling. 

I kinda laughed back, but inside me I was thinking that he didn't know what the truth was. 

They went down the path towards the house. I sat down again, and I couldn't help crying, not even sure why. I just spent a long time there on my own crying my guts out. They didn't see me. 

  

I have to leave! 

I've been thinking about getting away from him for a while for fifteen days now. He's gone to visit a friend. And his girlfriend...I've got to leave!

Why? Why am I kidding myself? What is this mad, endless passion? I can't even write anything that is not about him: my imagination focuses completel on him, and everything that is around me in the world relates to him. And this even manages to make me happy sometimes...but then, I always have to depart from him. When I've been sitting close to him for one, two hours, and I've been observing him in depth - his figure, the way he moves, the way he speaks - after a while all my senses go numb, I can't see or hear anymore, and my throat gets kinda blocked...and my heartbeat spins. Really, sometimes I'm not sure whether I'm still alive or not! And, sometimes, when melancholy does not prevail and I start telling P. about my turmoils, I have to leave. I go outside, to the countryside, and I have to run, free myself, climb hills, hurt myself with twigs and thorns. That gives me joy, a lot of joy. And then, when I can't run anymore, I just climb a tree and kinda fall asleep on it and sometimes wake up that it is night already. I am alone and I feel better, sad but safer, as if I were in a cell or something. But really, to this passion of mine I don't see an end, if not a negative one.

It's true: if anybody could make me feel less depressed, they would. Today I received this present from P.'s girlfriend. I then remembered the reason for this is that I once helped her with an essay she needed to write for the morning after - she is not good at writing, and P. had things to do that night, so I made her a favour and just spent the night writing it.
Anyway, the packet was small, and a small neckalce was attached to it. I noticed that it was the same necklace P. was wearing when I first met him, and I liked it so much that, more than once, I had asked him to give it to me.
Inside the packet there were two little books, both of them Homer, a very nice edition that - as both books are so light - it is easy to carry around.
So...this present made me realise how great our friendship is. Especially because of the necklace. That object makes me go back to those days, happier days? It seems so to me now. It seems tar I'll never live such a happiness again. Time seems to spoil everything. I don't want to complain too much. But it looks as if most things that happen to me are just visions, they don't live any trace. Not many of these things that happen, these "flowers" actually produce anything.
Not all of these "flowers" are like tha though...there are just a few of them that actually manage to produce fruits. And we should not waste these products.

Oh, it's very bad.

My energies have degenerated in a kind of restless laziness; I can't do nothing, but I can't even do something! I feel my imagination has gone, I can't feel anything towards nature, and the idea of reading makes me sick. I swear that sometimes I wish I were an office worker, just to hve, each morning, a schedule I can't get away from. Sometimes I envy friends of mine who seem to be so involved in practical things, and I wish I could be in their shoes. Maybe I should find myself a job?

Sometimes that seems a good idea. But then, I know I would very probably hate it. Really, I'm no sure what to do!

But, yeah, people have told me that this perennial longing for change and a painful restlessness I have will follow me for the rest of my life. And I kinda believe them.

I stretch my arms towards him every morning, waking from heavy dreams...for nothing; I look for him, hopelessly, every night, in my bed, when in my dreams I am sitting close to him on the grass I am holding his hand and I am kissing it endlessly. Oh, when, still half asleep, I stagger towards him and, by doing so, I wake up, I realize it had all been a dream, and a river of tears flows from my heart and, without comfort, I cry at the thought of my uncertain future. 

It's really strange how sometimes the source of your joy turns out being also the source of your pain.
That profound, warm feeling that I used to have for living nature, which used to completely satisfy my senses, now is becoming unbearable to me.
I used to spend hours in the countryside staring at the growing wheat, the rivers; I used to drown in the sight of mountains covered with trees, endless woods, lakes; I used to stare at the sky for hours, lying on the grass, no sound to disturb me except for the quiet buzzing of bees, and the light wooshing of the summer wind. I felt as if I could hear nature breathing; I would breath nature in and let a bit of human absurdity out.
I could perceive the immensity of the mountains around me, af the abyss in front of me, and of the waterfalls behind me. I could imagine this immensity and then see the human beings, nothing but little beings, hiding in their houses.
Oh, how many times I've yearned to be able to fly up to the top of those mountains, the end of those oceans, to drink some of that infinity!

Oh, just to think about those times makes my feel happier. Even just the attempt to summon those very indefinite feelings makes me feel more elevated and makes me realize how much things have changed now.
It is as if this beautiful mirage had disappeared, leaving an abyss eternally open.
How can one say: " this is ", if everything flows? If everything is swept away by the fury of the storm, if anything that mantains its form is soon crushed on the cliffs?
There is not a single moment that doesn't destroy you and everybody around you; one is always, always has to be, a destroyer. The most innocent stroll kills hundreds of worms and other insects; a movement of the foot crushes the careful constructions ants make.
It's not really hearing about huge disasters, such as heartquakes and hurricanes, that make me feel sad. What really makes me feel helpless is the fact that violence and destruction is everywhere in nature, and that it's impossible not to be part of it.
I look at the sky, at the ground, and all I can see now is an immense monster eternally devouring and eternally ruminating.

One thing is (almost) certain.
That there is nothing in this world that matters more than love. I feel this in some of the people I have constantly around, even in a simpe way, like the way P.'s younger siblings are always waiting for me to get back to them.
I went to their house yesterday to help P. fixing his piano ( well, we were gonna give it a try anyway), but basically his little brothers and sisters started chasing me and wanted me to tell the a story, and P. said to go ahead and make them happy.
So I told them this story that my grandad used to tell me about this funny man who goes thorugh an endless series of unfortunate events. It was a lot of fun, and I must say I learn so much from them everytime. Like, sometimes it happens that I make a story up and then I forget it, so they just go like: " last time the story was different..."
And they're really demanding and all that, which is funny, so now I try and be as accurate as possible!
Which kinda makes me think that, when writing or story - telling, the first draft is always the best, no matter how rough or disorgnized it is. It's the most honest.
Because the fact is that I don't think man made creations should be polished at all. They shouldn't be perfect. They should aim at perfection...but there's no point in trying and erase the traces of " a mistake". It's like erasing a memory, in a way.

P. 's girlfriend, you know, she can be such a drag.  

We had a strange conversation, me and her. 

Well, basically, weirdly P. called me and told me if I wanted to meet him at his girlfriend's house. He said he wanted to go to the cinema and would have loved to go with both me and her. I said yes, and went to her place. 

The thing is that, when I arrived, P. wasn't there yet, so I had to spend some weird minutes with her. I was kinda wandering around her room, and neither of us was talking. I happened to see this really big knife, like a dagger or something, hanging from the wall. I was about to take as I wanted to look at it, but she stopped me and got all nervous. 

I was surprised, so I asked her what the matter was. Well, she sat down on the bed, and, without looking at me, started telling me about this one episode where a friend of hers harmed herself quite seriously with that knife. She said she kept it there because she thought it looked cool, but she wouldn't touch it herself. or allow anybody else to touch it. then she said something like: " how can we prevent incidents from happening? We can be careful, but it's impossible to know exactly what's gonna happen in the end. However..."

then she stopped talking,so I'm not sure what that " however" was all about. I kinda find irritating her way of always having to limit, change, or revise everything. 

I got bored of her nonsense, and grabbed the knife and held it close to my throat, just or fun. 

She let a tiny scream out, and took the knife from me. She then shouted: " what's wrong with you? What are you doing?"

I just laughed, kinda wanted her to chill out really. 

But this thing I did got things worse...she started moaning about people who commit suicide, and said that she didn't understand why and how someone could do that. She said it is stupid. 

I told her that she shouldn't just label people or things as "stupid" without knowing what the actual problem is. I asked her: " Are you sure you know all about these things, why the y happen, what made them happen? I'm sure if you do thing about this, you would talk about it like this. "

She said that it is still something people should never do. 

I replied that it's all relative...everything, including theft, or betrayal ( I didn't mention this in a completely casual way) is relative. 

" That's different" she said. " Often you can't really control your passions or instincts...but that''s more like being drunk or stoned or something. You're just out of your mind."

I started thinking how much my own passions are sometime close to madness, and I realized I quite like that, actually. After all, many of my favorite writers and artists have at some point been considered mad or alcoholics. 

I told her that, and she said that great art has nothing to do with suicide. Suicide will always bee a matter of being weak, as it's so much easier to kill yourself than it is to live. 

I just wanted to dropped the conversation because it was making me irritated. P. wasn't there yet, he was really late. 

But then I asked her again: " So, you call it weakness? Would you say that it is weak if, for example, a person who is caught in a fire finds out he is able to move weights he wouldn't otherwise have been able to move? Or a person who rebels against some sort of injustice? I mean, if struggle is strength, then I don't see why over excitement shouldn't be. "

She looked at me and said I didn't make any sense. 

I'm used to people saying that to me, so I just ignored the comment and went on saying that human being have limits, and sometimes they can't stand situations or emotions. It's all a matter of how much you can stand really, but it has nothing to do with being "bad" or "good" 

Cause wanting to commit suicide is pretty much like dying emotionally, so it's similar to a terminal illness of the emotions or something.

I told her about this boy who used to come to my school. He drowned himself in a river because his lover ( he was gay) had left him. Apparently, he was completely in love with this other boy. 

I said that this happens when one's life stops making sense, when one gets caught in a labyrinth of emotions which are too strong to sustain. You can't say this is stupid...

She still wasn't convinced. She kept saying that, if you were intelligent, then you wouldn't to it. 

But how many times do emotions overcome our intelligence? 

I was getting kinda exasperated with this chat. And P. wasn't there yet. 

I just decided to leave, coz, what was the point anyway?

I felt really weird all the way back home. 

Weird. 

 

 

I could have a relatively nice life if I weren't so fucked up...It doesn't happen very often to have so many good things all in one. I get along quite well with my parents, I've got P., some other friends....and, ok, I have to admit that P.'s girlfriend is not so bad. She's actually pretty kind with me, the rare occasions when the two of us were together and he was not around were actually not that terrible.
Inevitably, we ended up talking about him. She's known him for longer than me, so she talked about his family, the fact that his mother is not well, and the fact that she is practically acting as a babysitter for P.'s younger siblings. Then she said how much P. has changed due to his family situation, and how he is now much more careful about relationships and stuff. I'm not sure what that means.
Anyway, I just listened to her, we were sitting in a park, I just played with the grass.
I think she is allright. She sounds pretty grown up for her age when she talk, and this scares me a bit.

I happened to find my diary, which I hadn't written on for ages...it was strange to read it back. My behavior towards P. seems so childish...and surely the situation is kinda stressing me out.

I was talking to a friend of mine recently and he said: 

"Well, you either hope to become more than just friends with P., or you don't. If you do, then do anything you can to turn your desire into reality. If you don't, then stop thinking about it."

But it's not that easy...you can't just go to, say, an ill person and tell him to kill himself to put an end to his suffering. Most of the times the same pain is so much that you don't even have the courage to try to suppress it. 

But we didn't really come to any conclusion...I do have moments of courage when I would just DO something, either go for it or just leave. But most of the times I am in between, confused. 

She arrived...and I'm gonna make a move. And I know she is probably a very nice person, intelligent, and so on...but with her there, it is so hard for me to behave normally. 

I'm glad I wasn't there when she arrived. It would have me me feel really weird.

Se was also very careful when I was with them ( I think she suspects that I fancy him or something) , so I should be grateful, I guess...

So basically now there is this thing ( she was away for a while, so the developments in the  'friendship' between me and P. are new to her) where she wants to be a friend of mine too...and I kinda like her, so, why not? 

I like the fact that she' s very calm, the opposite of me. I think the funniest thing is that she likes me, in a way, and my love for P. is something to be proud of for her. I don't think she's  jealous of us two. 

But,whatever, what will be will be!  

I must say I don't care too much, as I'm already kinda starting to give up on P....there's so much going on around him, that just makes me very nervous.

But then, yes, it was predictable. 

I couldn't  imagine hanging out together with her giving a shit about me. 

So when I see them together, I cannot help saying really lame stupid things, and p. has definitely noticed that, coz he actually told me that I looked: " scarily happy! "

So, I dunno was'going next....

 

there's something wrong on my blog...I can't see the 'followers' section...anybody can help?

I keep promising myself that I'm not gonna see him as often as I'm doing now. But, who am i trying to fool?

Everyday I say to myself: " tomorrow you' re not going to call him", but then, the day after, I always find an excuse to do it. Either he calls me, or I just can't resist. Or maybe I go out for a stroll, and my feet spontaneously take me to his house. 

I remember my grandma used to tell me a fairy-tale about a magnetic mountain: the ships that got to close to it were attracted to it and destroyed. And all the sailors would day crashed bye the collapsing bits of ship.  

I've been trying to do some artwork, some drawing...but I just can't! I'm so emotional these days that everything seems to have a special meaning for me. Really anything. But then, when I want to translate that in some sort of art, I just can't!

It's as if I couldn't fix the images I have in my mind, or the emotions I have in my heart.

And, I know it sounds ridicoulous but, I started making a drawing of P. for three times, and everytime it was just shit. Which kind of annoys me as I love drawing.

Oh, how boringgg!

My mother keeps complaining about me, saying that I'm lazy, that I don't do 'enough'. I don't understand why people are so obsessed with producing things, it seems that the act of thinking for it's own sake is not accepted anymore. They want results, stuff they can buy or sell, money.

It's all very sad.

Now, when I wake up the first thing I think about is seeing him. And sometimes (like yesterday) I can think of nothing else all day. Is he bewitching me or something? : )

Today I was supposed to go to P.'s place, but I was sort of ill, so I couldn't go.

I sent him an email instead, as he told me since I couldn't go he was gonna do something so he wasn't going to be online or anything until later in the afternoon. 

You have no idea how obsessively I waited for him to reply to my email...I was almost going insane. I just started at the computer screen all day and waited for his name to appear in my inbox. 

And when it did, it was like the best thing in the world, ahah. How pathetic. 

But I cannot really help it!

I mean, he sends me like 5 emails a day or something, but this particular on had a special, uhm, halo around it...his name in my inbox glowed like a star. 

Ok, I'm definitely not well. I'm saying delirious things and all. 

I hope this fuckin illness will go away soon. 

Oh, I love it when, walking side by side, my hand and his touch unintentionally; or when our knees touch under the table. I tend to step back in these occasions, cause I'm shy, but there's something that pushes me forward too, and I enter this strange state where I don't know what to do anymore. 

mmm, I'm not sure he perceives all of this...but when he, without even thinking about it (or does he?) puts his hand on my shoulder or when, whil speaking, he comes really close to my face with his face, then I just go nuts inside, and blush or something. 

I so know I should just dare telling him...but I'm a weaklings, it seems. A weakling. 

The problem is that, when he's around, his personality and beauty and everything overwhelms me so much that I feel kinda blocked. I get really confused and think I couldn't handle a refusal from him. But everything he does really, when he plays his favorite tune on the piano and I find myself whistling it for hours afterwards as if it had always been my own favorite tune. 

It's funny how this little tune always comes to my mind when I fell really depressed. It's already distracted me from suicidal thoughts a couple of times...

oh, this is the song he likes to play...this is not him though : )

No, I don't think I'm wrong! 

I can read in his eyes an sincere interest for me and my life....I can feel that, (and I wanna trust myself)that he...damn, how can I put it...that he loves me, in a way?

This feeling makes me feel much stronger...I love myself a lot more because of this feeling. 

Is this pretentious? Not that I care...I gotta remember that he still has a girlfriend. Or at least, that's what he says. Everytime ( not very often) he talks about her, I loose hope. As I know she's still there. But then, I do feel there's something going on in him, as I said. 

A thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever

I told a friend of mine about P. I didn't want to at first, but then we got quite drunk together and I couldn't resist.
He asked me if I fancy P. This term, "fancy" seemed so inappropriate and lame to me that I almost got angry.
I mean, how could I reduce the mixture of feelings I have for P. as "fancy"?
There's so much more to it, and yet, it's so hard to explain. I wish I was a great poet or a composer sometimes.
It's like if he had asked me if I like Rimbaud ( my favourite poet) or Beethoven...I mean, how could I say I "like" them? It's such a complex way of loving someone.

Since I couldn't answer my friend and I was getting angry, I changed subject.
He didn't even notice, I think.

I was hanging out with my parents yesterday and guess who I met?

oh...it was all very strange. P. is back, and he happened to be hanging out with his father too, and, I think I've said this already, but his father and my father are old friends.
I think they vaguely know me and P. know each other, but they have no idea about the fact that we see each other so often, at least I don't think. They both work a lot, ya know, never home.


Anyhow, they stopped to talk and I really didn't know what to do...I think I blushed a bit.
P. was looking at me with those bloody amazing eyes!!!! ahhh..I'm kust a stupid kid.

But he was...I think he was embbarrassed too tho, cauze when I looked at him he would look away like pretend he didn't care.

Maybe he actually doesn't care that much?

Maybe it's just all in my stupid mind?

I couldn't help thinking this afterwards, the thought depressed me and I wanted to cry.
When we departed I kept looking back at him walking down the street, his beautiful hair. his shoulders, his ass.

I so want to be closer to him.

What a stupid fucked up child I am!

P. is back! Last night I went to see him, he had to look after one of his little sisters but told me I could hang out with him anyway. 

We went for a walk, the three of us, and we ended up in this little square near St. Paul which I could relate to in some profound way, even though I had no clue why. It was very strange, this square made me feel sad, kinda melancholic, as if I had spent a lot of time there or something, and yet, I could not remember. 

I told this to P. and he seemed very interested, he said something about the Uncanny and stuff like that. 

Since P.'s little sister was looking at us without understanding, we started telling her made up stories about this square...we got really into it and it was a lot of fun to just invent absurd stories. I think it was the more fun because she believed them!

We, for example told her that the bench we were sitting on was in fact a magical bench that could fly and stuff like that, really over the top, and she was really impressed, ahah. 

It was all very sweet, and I think I'm getting closer and closer to P. 

I think he now just takes my presence for granted or something. 

I'm still unsure about his feelings though. It's just so great to sit next to him that sometimes I think it doesn't really matter. 

Aww, I had been seeing P. but now he has gone on holiday... luckily, it's gonna be a short one.

He left early this morning, we spent pretty much the whole night together, it was ace. 

Basically last night we just wandered around London without knowing where we were going, we just wanted to keep walking and talk. 

So, basically,we ended up near this amazing cemetery, close the where P. lives. >The cemetery was closed, but there was this guardian there getting bored, so we started talking to him. There were these huge trees in the cemetery, and the guardian knew every single thing about each tree and stuff. It was really amazing. 

Then, we walked further and saw there were people standing outside a bar. We wanted to get in but they wouldn't let us. They would have let P. in, probably, but I'm to young. So we just spent some time outside there and there was this girl that was quite drunk and she came to me and started and kind of tried to chat me up. I didn't actually do anything, hardly replied, but suddenly this guy came with a very angry look on his face. He must have been drunk too or something and it seems that girl was his girlfriend. 

But, seriously, what could I do? I wasn't even interested in the girl. This guy got angry at me because she was interested in me.

It sounds all funny now, but really, you should have seen this guy, he was huge. 

Anyway, luckily P. managed to explain what had happened, and we sort of ran away. 

We were talking about it afterwards and we came to the conclusion that for people, often, being angry or aggressive or in a bad mood in general is almost a habit. It it just something that everybody wants to get rd of, but then nobody really does anything about it. Especially aggressiveness. 

People constantly struggle to be healthy, to be beautiful, to be better, but nobody really thinks about the small things. 

I mean, I'm not the happiest person, quite the opposite in fact, I'm quite depressed and all that. But I hate it when people are aggressive without any reason.  

P. and me were talking about this guy, and the fact that his behavior must have been really embarrassing for his girlfriend. P. said he hates it when people are so patronizing. 

This thing he said made me think of situations I have gone through in my past, unmotivated aggressiveness and things like that, and I just got very sad. Gosh, I can be so emotional sometimes. P. noticed this immediately, but he didn't quite know what to do, you could tell he was uneasy. 

I spent sometime without saying anything, and he accepted it and did the same, but then he obviously couldn't take anymore of my shit, cause he asked me what the matter was. I should have told him how emotional I am, LOL. 

Well, he knows now. 

Anyway, after a while this sadness just went away, and he said he didn't mind, but that he wanted to know more about me. That's very promising. 

I like him so much!

Oh, ok so, I did hear from P. and ( finally) today he invited me to his place!
His brothers and sisters were there too, and they're all very nice, so we just spent a lot of time playing video games with them.
at some point their father arrived with a friend of his, I think, and this guy was just really annoying as he started making comments about how bad videogames are for kids and stuff like that...bah.
So now I can imagine him going around telling his friends that P. and I have a bad influence on P.'s brothers.

Gosh, sometimes i really think children should stay children...I mean, sometimes adults are so dumb compared to children...they can say and do such stupid things and for the most absurd reasons.
Maybe it's just my idea, I dunno. Aww, ok, I'll stop rambling about these things.

Night

I found out where P. lives, and, I know it might sound very silly, but I've been loitering around that area quite a lot recently...it's a very nice place, sort of leafy and green and there's this amazing cemetery I love going to. It makes me feel very happy when I go there..well, happy is not the right word, actually, coz I feel sort of hungry, yearning. But I like that sensation , in fact, sometimes I prefer being hungry rather than satisfied. Being satisfied makes me bored and nervous. 

But it's funny that that area, which I used to go to pretty often even in the past as some relative of mine lives there, now seems so different.

Since I've been going there on my own, without being brave enough to call him, I've been thinking a lot about desire and and the way people dream about going further, discovering, but then most of the times they just accept their limitations and carry on with a life full of routine.

This reminded me that when I was younger , if I saw like mountains or a big field or something, I would dream about what it would be like to go there, to reach the far end. But then, when I actually got to the far end, I found there was nothing worth being there for. 

Because, like, the there became here and it became boring. 

So, it's like saying that I always really want what I don't have.

I still haven't seen P. since the party. He hasn't called me either... 

uh, where was I with the story?

anyway, I remember that when I went to bed it was like 2 in the morning, but I wasn't sleepy at all...in fact, if I had had someone to talk to I would have easily carried on until like noon or something. 

I still haven't talked about what happened when P. and I went back to the party, after having spent what must have been quite a long time standing in the rain. But I'm kinda in a hurry now, shit, and I don't wanna rush everything and stuff, so I'll talk about it next time. 

It was such an ace night/morning tho!

Dawn and stuff, you know? Very romantic and..I dunno.

Some people were sleeping on the grass in the garden. P. asked me if I wanted to sleep too. I said that I wasn't, in the least. 

We took a bus back home ( each one his own). And when it was time for me to get off the bus, I asked him if I could see him again soon, and if I could call him later that day. He said yes. But he had to think about his girlfriend and stuff. But that didn't matter too much, he said. 

LOL, I don't even know if it is day or night, the world around me is kinda blurry, I feel like being on a roller-coaster or something...

I decided not to go to his place after all..his parents at home and shit like that. But I've been speaking with him on chat...he's bloody great.
He's a bit older than me and he's got like eight siblings or something. But this doesn't really matter, does it?
What matters I guess is ho w I met him and stuff.
Well, ok, let's see.

Basically, I went to this party one night. I wasn't too keen on going because it was organized by some friends of my parents, and I was kind of forced to go and stuff like that, which I really hated. Plus, I got chatted up almost immediately by this really boring girl, and I was basically having the worst time ever.

What I ignored, though, was the existence of my parents' friends' oldest son, P.

Well, he arrived to the party kinda late, and I'd been sitting there trying to cope with this girl's lousy chatting.

His siblings were at the party already, and when he arrived all of them jumped up and went to say hi to him. They must love him very much, and I can see why : )

So, I must have looked at him intensely enough for him to notice, coz he came to me after a while, and introduced himself.
He also apologized for the party, which he agreed was kinda boring. The youngest of his brothers were still gravitating around him, so he told them to introduce themselves to me.
It was all pretty sweet.
So, I forgot to say that the party was in this big house with an even bigger garden, so we ( me and him) ended up walking outside.
We started talking about book sand stuff, and I got really excited when he told me he's into Romantic literature, stuff like Goethe and Byron, ya know.

So, I was so enthusiast that I started talking about " The Sorrows of Young Werther" by Goethe, which is a wicked book where this fucked up kid commits suicide because the girl he loves doesn't give a damn about him, and I kinda talk non stop for hours, which was perhaps a mistake as, when I finally stopped, I realized P. had started talking to someone else.

Luckily, though, he came back to me very quickly.
He asked me if I wanted to dance, and you can bet I said yes.


We went back inside and started dancing on this allright 70's rock music, not exactly my favourite, but far enough.
Maybe it's just an illusion or something, but I could tell he was into me. He gave me some very intense looks and smiled a lot and danced closer and closer to me. He also pretended he wasn't though. Like his looks were sort of secret, and he kept checking that people weren't looking at us and stuff. Gosh, it was pretty hard work not to get too involved, really.

It felt great, I didn't actually feel human anymore, more, err, a godlike creature?
I guess that's because I felt so grand, or something.

Then we stopped dancing and sat down, I went to get drinks and then we kept on chatting.

The weird bit was when he mentioned, for like three times in a row, the name of a girl. I got pretty nervous and stuff, so I asked him who she was. Damn.


You know why?

He said she is his girlfriend. Can ya believe it?
Fuck, that really disappointed me.

I didn't know what to say, I think I blushed or something, and I had to leave.

So I waled around the party for a while, didn't know where the hell to go really.
Meanwhile the party was getting louder and messier, and people were starting to get drunk, both the old and the young ones.
So walked upstairs, not knowing where the hell I was going, and you know what?
There were these kids crammed in a bedroom, and P. was in the centre of them all.
I then found out it was his bedroom.

I didn't want to get in at first, but he saw me and kind of dragged me in.
They were playing this game where you have to roll the bottle and decide if you want to confess something personal or have let someone "do" something to you.
When it was P.'s turn, he had to slap at least five people.
He slapped some boys and girls, not very hard and sort of politely, but then he slapped me, and that was way different, I think.
I mean, he slapped me kinda hard, but in a, how can I say, passionate way? Like, he wanted to kiss me but could only slap me?
I remember the burning sensation on my cheek. I loved it.

Meanwhile, outside it had started raining pretty bad.
When the game finished, P. and me went outside together. We stood in the rain for a bit and got quite soaked.
We didn't speak much at all, just stood there, but then P. started singing "Black Sabbath"( by Black Sabbath, of course) which starts with the rain, you know?

And we kinda sang it together in the rain. It was pretty awesome, I think.

Reason why I haven't written in such a long time? Well, it's kinda tricky to explain really...well, ok, I'll give it a try: I met this person whom I think I'm really interested in and ya know...no, I dunno, LOL.
As I said, it's tricky to explain this, especially now that my brain is sort of fucked by the presence of aforementioned person. I'm happy, I think?
It seems daft and kind of cheesy to start saying how amazing this guy is, I know...I'll try to avoid that. But, gosh is he cool!
It's also kind of pointless for me to try to describe this guy, I'd probably fail anyway...but I've gotta tell someone!
And I know that if I don't write it down now I'm gonna change my mind and not write about it at all...I'd prolly start thinking that it's really tacky after all and stuff...

so I will say how I met him and stuff, but now I actually have to go see him so, more later.

So, I've been thinking a lot about the fact that some experiences we have, some things we see, can never really be translated in words or art. 

For example...I was chatting on wotever chat earlier today. It was the usual crap, you know, boys trying to chat up girls, or other boys, and so on. 

I was kinda getting really bored and all, and was about to leave, when this guy asked me to chat privately. I immediately thought he was gonna ask me to do stuff on the cam and crap, so I was about the tell him: " no, thanks", but then he said that he just wanted to talk, that he felt like talking to someone he didn't know and all. 

So I accepted, I was, you know, intrigued and all, and I asked him: " what do you wanna talk about?" and he, like, started telling me about this woman he really fancies. 

He said he was 18 and this woman was  30 or something. She was like his teacher or something I didn't get, but that's not the point. 

Point is, Nick said ( well, Nick is this guy's name of course) that she was real sweet and all with him, but he was truly in love, like mad, with her. 

I didn't really have much to say about it honestly, wasn't much help to him, but we just carried on chatting for like two hours, and he got so passionate about the whole thing that I kinda started thinking that maybe he'd forgotten that I wasn't his best friend and all, but just a whoever guy he met on wotever chat. 

But he didn't seem to mind that at all, he just kept going on and on about this woman, and it was a real pleasure to read his words, it almost felt like you could HEAR him speaking, or crying or shouting. Man, was he passionate. 

I hope talking to me was helpful for him, coz for me was kind of the opposite, actually. ..

it made me feel sad like hell, coz I started thinking about my own sentimental situation and realized I have none...

He kept saying, you should see her and stuff, but I thought that I don't actually want to see HER at all, coz for me her is a no one, but for him is so special...I thought that I much preferred to imagine this woman as I would have liked her to be...I didn't care at all what she looks like in reality.

 Reality is not everything, you know. 

I was on the tube yesterday, and in front of me there was this woman with her two children.

I could hear her talking, partly to them patly to herself. She kept telling the youngest of the children to stop moving, seat properly, etc...and, with the other, who could have been about 10, she kept talking about school matters, clothes, timetables, and tidying up of bedrooms.

I could see the bored faces of the two boys who were, however, obviuosly so used to their mother's limited choice of discussion that they didn't care anymore.

There seemed to be an acceptance, a state of peace, on their behalf...their expressions seemed to say: " this is the way it is and there isn't much we can do about it, so let's just accept it ".

Instead of making me irritated, as it normally would, this reaction worked on me in a different way: it almost made me want to be like that, to stop fighting and jst get carried away by the flow.

Just stop thinking and accept the future as it comes. That would be so much easier.

I have this thing I love about fiinding a spot somewhere which I consider my " house" and where I can spend time undisturbed. I have found such a place not too far from London. It's a little park nearby a cemetery. I just sit down there and read, Homer, at the moment. The first time I happened to get there I found the park deserted, apart from a four - year - old-or - something kid who was sitting there, looking around with kind of crazy eyes ( don't ask me why!). So, I just sat down as well and started drawing this kid and added a few benches, the grass and other stuff that I cold see from that position. So I kind of started to think that perhaps reality is enough? That we don't need to add anything to it?

I don't know....maybe it's just bullshit.
I mean, if you stick to nature in a way you limit yourself a lot. So, yes, I'm not even sure why I felt that when I was drawing that kid. I suppose I just saw a lot of beauty in reality.
I refuse every rule, I think rules are the exact opposite of true feelings, of passion.
I know we do need some sort of rule in order to live together on the same planet...so many of us.
But I hate everything that's moderated...I mean, if you want to love, LOVE! if you want to hate, HATE...but DO IT!

Why does this happen so rarely?

Dreams

Someone in the past has already said that life is nothing but a dream, and this idea is always present in my thoughts.

If you think of the limits we have to express our creativity and intelligence...and if you think of the fact that most people's lives are based on material needs that have no other purpose but to prolong their silly lives...and also that satisfaction in general is just something that allows us not to think of our actual situations...I don't really know what to say about all this.

And if I look inside myself, I find obscurity rather than positive energy.
Which kind of makes me scared, and confused, and numb, so I just smile and carry on trough this life, in a dreamlike state.

After all, grown ups are exactly like children. They have no idea where they wanna go and where they've come from. They just keep going, because they take for granted, and accept, the fact that they have to.
Well, in a way sometime I kind of envy these people whose lives are like children's: they just label everything they do and are, they get paid, buy more things, get paid again, and they're happy. Lucky them, in a way.

...and Boring

I'm starting to suspect people are exactly the same everywhere you go.
I mean, what's the point of meeting so many people all the time if then none of them means anything for you?

Most people are just so busy working that, when they have a bit of freedom, they try as hard as possible to fill it with more work! How idiotic is that?

Oh, Shola ( she used to comment on my blog, but she's nowhere to be seen lately) said something interesting about this. I'll quote her:

"No one really knows themselves and when they do, they are too old to do something about it. Huahaha."

I think the laughter is actually the wisest part of the sentence.

I suppose it's all a matter of letting oneself go and be a bit...carefree?
Like when we were children maybe.
I just have to avoid thinking of all the energies that are in me. It's like knowing that you're a super hero but being unable to show that to the world. I don't knwo if this makes sense...
err...well, it's just this sensation of having so much stuff inside that just lies there and rots away because you can't use it, or not yet. You have to hide your real identity, in a way.
And this really pisses me off.

But then, I suppose every 'freak' is doomed not to be understood.

This thought makes me a bit sad because it reminds me of the conversations I used to have with my once-upon-a-time best friend, D.
I used to have a really ace time with him. When I was with him I felt I couldn't, didn't need to, go further, because what I was already was as far as I could go, that is, perfect.
It was rare, pure perfection. It was never 'perfect' in the universal sense, if there is such a sense, but it was perfect in its own being obviously imperfect.

aahhhhh, I'm tripping over my own words now.

Oh, I met this guy a few days ago...he's an artist and he's quite cute : )
But he's one of these people who boast about their own culture by insisting that they don't know anything, which is kind of annoying, so I don't know what's gonna happen.
So, he came to my place and I showed him some drawings and shit I've made...he said he liked them, and he seemed honest. But then he kept going on and on about what he's read and this and that, and it all became a bit boring really.

But at least he's real...not like these people you meet that pretend to be your friends and then just disappear.

People are Strange...

Well, yes, as my grandma would say, " what a world we live in!"

I was walking down the road yesterday, and I saw this woman on the floor, she had fallen or something. So I offered to help...you know, kindness and all that shit. And, you wanna know what?

She basically kicked me with her bag!

I mean, WTF?

I'm gonna stick to myself from now on...

No books

Hey, you've proposed to send me more books to read...but no, don't. Actually, I want to try and keep away from books for a while. I don't want to be guided and encouraged more than I already am: I am excited enough already on my own, eheh. I feel I'd actually need something like a lullaby...I've tried to read something really boring like Homer, but then it turned out not being boring at all, so it didn't really work...
I literally feel excitement running through my veins..how can I explain to you? I'll never see a moodier, more unstable person than myself now. Yes, I know this might sound werid to others: but I know you'll understand, right? I mean, you've seen me going nuts enough times, haven't you?
And I just keep over indulging my heart, I'd be such a sweet parent if my heart were a child : )

But hey... shush! don't tell this around....
Ya know...People are strange ( stranger than me)

On May the 10th (Sunday) - trippy day

Hey, I haven't written about it yet, I didn't feel like it, but now I will.

On Sunday I had this weird moment where I felt absolutely happy and, I dunno, like almost too happy without any reason. It was sunny and stuff and I was in my bedroom alone and I felt so, like, in peace and stuff. I wanted to write it dowon or make a drawing or something, but I just couldn't, which kind of scared me because, well, I thought, what if this happiness spoils my creativity?

I just had to go outside, so I went to a park and just lied in the grass....man, I was ridiculously happy!And I hadn't smoked weed or anthing! I spent hours looking at the grass and observing the worms and things that live there. And I was kind of overwhelmed by the sensation of the grass under me, and the sky above me, and felt a strong desire to write it all down on paper. I wished I could just transfer all my thoughts on a piece of paper, like a mirror does with my face.

But I couldn't, obviously. And that made me feel very weak, in a way.

After May 4th 2009

Hey friend, ( you know I'm talking to you, don't you?) I am sooo glad I left! Human beings, and their hearts, are so bloody strange sometimes! I was havign an ace time with you, seriously, you know I love you man, but I must say I don't regret leaving at all. I'm sure you'll forgive me. I'm starting to think everybody was there to make me feel weird, in some way. I mean, you know Leonore? Gosh, she was so into me I felt I had an alien in my belly or something. I mean, I could stand her sister, she was kind of silly and that was alright, but Leonore! She just made this big drama out of everything just because I wasn't into her. It's not my fault, you know...but at the same time I do feel a bit guilty...I mean, perhaps I encouraged her without noticing. I did spend time with her, and we had quite an enjoyable time together too, you were there so you know. I simply didn't understand that the reality wasn't as laughable. I didn't take it seriously enough. I mean, I didn't...gosh, what state I'm in...I'll try and be better in the future, in a way or the other.
I'm gonna try and stop whining about everything and think about the present a bit more. Let the past take care of itself. Yeah, I see what you meant when you said that I can't carry on racking my brains over the past...you're so wise sometimes.
I've had this argument with my mum, but I don't feel like talking about it now. Nothing big. I just realize how misunderstanding sometimes is worse than bad actions...coz things end up being even worse when people don't understan each other.

Anyhow...I'm feeling allright at the mom. I just love being alone, some days ago, on the 4th to be precise, I spent a few hours walking down the canal, and it was glorious: sun, spring, all made me feel great, which is unusual. I wished I could be a bird or a fly or something really light. Being in town is not that nice, but as soon as you go to a park or somethin

g, it's just great.
I found this little garden with an old shed in it, and I just spent sometime in the shed, thinking. It felt like there was something really, how can I say, 'sensitive' about that garden...I dunno...but it made me feel very emotional ( not unusual). And I started to think I'd love to own that garden.

Song of the Sleepless Wanderer

You who from the darkness are, 

You who soothe all pain and gloom, 

And the doubly fucked up heart, 

turn into a new born bloom ,

I am tired with contending!

Why this rapture and doom?

Inspiration descending, 

into my heart, ah, loom!

GLOOMY SUNDAY

Sunday is gloomy,

My hours are slumberless

Dearest the shadows

I live with are numberless

Little white flowers

Will never awaken you

Not where the black coaches

Sorrow has taken you

Angels have no thoughts

Of ever returning you

Wouldnt they be angry

If I thought of joining you?

Gloomy sunday

Gloomy is sunday,

With shadows I spend it all

My heart and i

Have decided to end it all

Soon therell be candles

And prayers that are said I know

But let them not weep

Let them know that Im glad to go

Death is no dream

For in death Im caressin you

With the last breath of my soul

Ill be blessin you

Gloomy sunday

Dreaming, I was only dreaming

I wake and I find you asleep

In the deep of my heart here

Darling I hope

That my dream never haunted you

My heart is tellin you

How much I wanted you

Gloomy sunday

Come Back

Come back, come back, dear friend, my only friend, come back. I swear I'll be good. My grumpiness was just a joke I took too far, and now I'm more sorry than one can say. I haven't stopped crying for two whole days.Come back.  Take heart, dear friend. Nothing is lost.  All you have to do is make the return journey. We shall live here bravely an patiently. Oh! I beg you. It is for your own good, anyway.

Listen only to your kind heart.

Tell me quickly if I'm to join you.

Yours for life, 

Oscar

IT'S A WONDERFUL WORLD, AFTER ALL...

Teen Robs Shop With Banana Then Eats Evidence

2 hours 41 mins ago

 © Sky News 2009

• Print Story

A teenager was caught trying to rob a store with a banana - then ate the makeshift weapon to destroy the evidence.Skip related content

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Teen Robs Shop With Banana Then Eats EvidenceEnlarge photo

Sadly for John Szwalla he was unable to swallow the skin which was duly photographed by police in North Carolina, America.

The 17-year-old is currently in the county jail charged with attempted armed robbery.

The bizarre drama began when Szwalla entered the 109 Biz Center in Winston-Salem with a banana under his shirt.

The hapless thief told staff in the internet cafe that he had a gun and demanded cash, according to local reports.

Owner Bobby Ray Mabe said he and a customer jumped on to Szwalla, pinning him into a chair before deputies arrived.

But while they waited for police, Mabe says the teen stuffed the banana into his mouth and swallowed it.

When deputies arrived they took pictures of the banana peel instead.

Forsyth County Sheriff's office spokesman Major Brad Stanley said police joked about charging Szwalla with destroying evidence.

"If he had had a gun he would've shot me," Mabe said yesterday.

"But he had a banana," he added.

Szwalla faces a charge of attempted armed robbery. Jail officials said he does not have an lawyer.

Szwalla is in the Forsyth County Jail, with bond set at £35,000.

Thomas

Thomas was lying on his bed, not asleep and not awake, his head almost entirely hidden by an open book, page 93, beginning of chapter 5. 

He couldn't tell whether he was asleep or not: he could see something, but, as far as he knew, it could have easily been a dream. Mountains, sky. Epic landscape.

He waited until his limbs were completely numb, and then he tried to get up, rightly predicting that feeling of little metal bugs crawling on your body you get when the blood in your veins starts to circulate again.

Thomas ignored the dizziness as he arose from the bed, picked from the floor the fallen book that had once been on his eyes, and walked towards the kitchen.

His mother was there, sitting at the table, reading. Her position ( he could see her profile against the white of the kitchen's walls) reminded him of some 19th century British painting.

She didn't raise her head from her novel, so he walked to the fridge and took a bottle of water.  He was pretty sure there were just his mum and him in the kitchen. And yet, he could suddenly hear other voices, many, loud voices that spoke at the same time, mixing up, not letting him hear what each of them was trying to say. 

He could hear them as if they were coming from all around him ,and from inside him too. There were voices in his ears, in his stomach and in his eyes. They got louder and louder, like an angry crowd.

He collapsed. 

..............................................................................................................................

'What year are we in, boy?'

' uh...2006?'

It was actually 2007. Thomas's eye-lids opened to reveal the face of a yellow dressed young man. He could also see the face of his mother in a somehow blurry background.

 

' What is your name?' the yellow man asked him

' Thomas' he answered. - What is this? Is this a joke or what? -

' What happened?' asked Thomas, confused.

' Nothing to worry about. You fainted and were unconscious for a few minutes. We'll now take you to the hospital to make sure everything is fine.'

- Jesus... - thought Thomas. 

Another similar man emerged from nowhere. He, together with the other, grabbed the boy's body and positioned it on a stretcher. 

Thomas observed the scene from somewhere outside, and slightly above, his body.

The journey on the ambulance was a long attempt not to throw up.

In the hospital, Thomas was asked by a middle-aged nurse to lie on a bed. 

She, all smiles, measured his blood pressure and heart beat. 

Touching his hip bones from over the jumper she shook her head slightly and said: ' Too thin'.

Thomas thought he felt fine, much better in fact.

They informed him he had had a mild epileptic attack, and asked him to describe what he had felt. 

He remembered the voices very well, but was somehow unable to talk about them. He perhaps secretly thought there wasn't a scientific explanation for them. They could have been dead people's voices, or Satan or aliens or something like that.

He was pleased enough to realize that the doctors weren't quite sure how to explain what had happened to him. They were obviously attempting to give answers, but none of them seemed convincing, not even to them.

Thomas left the hospital feeling tired, but somehow extraordinarily relaxed. It was as if that episode had helped him to release an overload of tension.

And then, of course, he was excited at the idea of telling his friend the following day.

He thought it felt good to know he was a little bit mad.    

 

perhaps I don't want to live anymore???

my sketchbook

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?

.........I'm starting to doubt I even exist.

How can I be sure I exist, in fact?

Maybe I'm just the figment of the imagination of someone living on another planet?

Maybe I'm the ghost of someone who lived two centuries ago?

Maybe I wasn't born in England?

Maybe I'm not a male?

Maybe I'm not even human?

Heart beat

Last night I couldn't sleep,
my heart kept me awake.

I couldn't stop listening
to its mad drumming
I was scared it might explode
for it was as deafening
as the roaring of a bomb.

The Grizzly MAn

So, one of the films I downloaded and watched yesterday is " Grizzly Man" by Werner Herzog.
It talks about this guy, Timothy Treadwell, who's completely passionate about grizzly bears and wants to be one of them and be accepted by them.
He spends day after day alone in their company and then, one day, he ( and his unlucky girlfriend) is devoured by a bear.
The film presents the footage fgilmed by Treadwell together with interviews to people he used to know, and a voiceover y Herzog.

I'm not sure what it is, but there's something stunning about this film. This guy Treadwell, he was amazing. He had this childish way of speaking and of getting excitedabout things that reminds me of, I don't know, Michael Jackson perhaps?

VEry fascinating characters. People the world doesn't, cannot, understand.


What is responsible? Is being a human a responsible thing?



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ogYDUmIigw0

Holi - days

mm, Easter, right?

I spent these days downloading filma and music for free... PIRATES, are you there??

The Call of Chtulhu

I read H.P. Lovecraft's "The Call of Chtulhu" and I was completely blown away...

it's simply amazing. SUBLIME.

That horrific yet beautiful image which is " too much to take" or " what a human being shouldn't see" keeps popping back in my mind.

I have been looking for representations of Lovecraft's description of Cthulhu, but was disappointed by what I found. Most of them are squid - like monsters...nothing sublime or horrifica about them. Here are a couple of exemples:

Very uninpressive, no?

so yes, I was thinking, if anybody is interested in Cthulhu and knows of any better visual interpretation, can you please let me know?

Or I ws also wondering...has anybody tried to draw one?

I haven't, but I will soon I think.