The capacity of amazement

I often feel disconnected from people, like i don't vibrate on the same energy, solitude i'm used to, so i'm not here to complain about a lonely life, i think i recently defined more closely what is the state of my own energy, i always say "stupidity doesn't amuse me", but many people use it for social relations and gathering (the superficial talking and jokes, the silly films and shows), i don't know how to tell jokes, and lightness doesn't stimulate me, but i have that capacity of sharing amazement, over simple things and events, that i analyze and build up stories around, the depth in perception is my way, and i think i miss people receptive and also transmitter of that same kind of energy, positiveness and respect, people who could let themselves be around me, in their creativity and intelligence, affection and well being.

One day i brought a girl on a piece of road by night, on that short and special segment flakes of quartz were mixed with the tarmac, so that under the street lights and a clear moon it's like we're walking accross a starry sky, i was genuinely thrilled when i discovered that effect during one of my night rides, but that particular girl didn't look at the magic for long, she faced me with a faint mocking and teasing smile saying "Is that all there is here", and the worst of all is that she stayed with me for another six months afterwards.

Let your passion, your interest, your affection flowing, express who you are freely in the frame of respect, you are heard and recognized.

"I appear missing"

Such a great album, for music lovers; nothing to waste

Queens of the stone age - Kalopsia (like clokwork album)

Queens of the Stone Age - The Vampyre of Time and Memory

Queens of the Stone Age - …Like Clockwork

See this couple, a middle aged woman, fat and ugly, wearing a lame, reddish, and washed-out t-shirt, so skimpy that her belly stretches it awkwardly, unfitting jeans and sneakers with laces too long that they sweep the ground when she walks.
She's side by side with an old guy, his spine bent under the weight of years, a bony figure dragging his feet around, wearing loose jeans and a striped lumberjack shirt, glasses on his hooked nose and curly grey hair on his skull. Probably she works as a janitor or clean the rooms of random companies at night, she doesn't have many friends, maybe none, and she lives at the fringe of society, spending much time in front of the tv set. And maybe he works as an archivist, alone, underground, when he comes back late at night he makes himself a cup of tea and sits on the couch, next to her and she would lay her head on his shoulder for a while. On days like today they linger around in hidden places, unpopular, taking pictures with and old fashioned camera (one who looks like an accordion).

There's a large field of rebelling weeds, spreading on a slope down to a road, on top of the hill is an abondonned manor, at dusk young people come here to drink beers, empty cans are scattered on the steps to the great entrance, during the day it's a lonely deserted place, and the noise of the city doesn't even reach the main building.

The two lie down in the grass.

I bring you here, where i like to wander, in those intimist places made to cuddle and get close, or get lost and nostalgic, everywhere i go on my own is a place like this, mostly forsaken and unspectacular, but i can't hug you and maybe i'm envious of that eerie couple, i'm like that shapeless woman but i'm still too proud, this is where i go naturally for myself, everything is a matter of intimacy with me, be fully present with another, and you shouldn't be there with me, you should be in the bustle of downtown, texting while walking elbow to elbow with strangers, we can't appreciate those ragged places if we can't cuddle as it's almost the main purpose to be here for simple people, with you it's impossible and i have no grudge, i go here by myself all the time and i like it solitary until someone can see what i see. Do you see?!



You keep saying you do, spontaneously, and it makes it more painful for me.

Art association

Watch the photos and listen to the music. It rings in me.
Something weird and strange, and sad and disturbing.


secret life of fishes


cloud of unknowing

Tomorow will be black and blue, (playing)

I wish for a woman that will lean on me, she will press with all her weight on my shirtless self and push me to the curve of a sofa, as to both be swallowed in the cushioned maw, she would wear shorts cut right under her bum and a loose tank top, ............
gird my wrists i will be helpless, be strong, .........
you would rub the soles of your feet on my calves, you would knock my shinbones and my kneecaps with your kneecaps and your shinbones, and we will twitch and have spasms, i will feel the heat of your slick legs against mine, you would poke my brick belly and stick your fingers in my skin to leave nails marks and i would giggle and tighten to the sting, you would pluck my biceps and scratch my groins to red, you would sit on me and grab my waist and my neck, make me feel your presence, your solidity, your determination, you would linger forcefully your lower lip on my bare pectoral muscle, up, up, to bite me on the round juicy flesh of my shoulder, sharpen your teeth on the clavicle, bump into me, roll onto me, encircle me, push and press and hit, seize me and shake me, be tough and beat, whip me with your hair to the smell of cinnamon, i will catch you and we will get entangled rolling under a blanket, and our bones will clank, and our limbs will spread and spurt out, and our bodies will embrace, and we will moan, to resist and finally rest flat and heavy and piled up in the silent chaos of each other breath.

Never think.