A Point of View

29 06 2009

When I manifest myself through my works, be it reading, writing or playing; be it telling a story or commenting one, it is not in order to oppose myself to something, but rather express my feelings toward something else (which I enjoy). There is no say without an opinion, but the marvel of it all is to stimulate debate, not settle it.

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from the Freshminds Alan Watts Animation Theater

By debating, we are nothing more than “point of views” sharing each their own perspective and acting collaboratively towards shaping one polished result and the birth of new ideas.

Watts’ words summarize my thoughts.

My Legacy

5 02 2009

An old man, resembling your great grandfather, approaches you with a small black notebook in hand. He breathes deeply and blinks his eyes, like your grandfather would. Then, he opens his mouth, as your father did, and begins to speak:

And so, here we are. How many years has it been? Quite a few right?

You can’t hear as well as you used to. You can’t run as fast. Jump as high. Talk as eloquently.

But you sure can write.

Worry not, society has that habit of always confusing you, pushing you one way, then the other. You’re not really sure in what to believe. What to follow. Who to trust. What to long for.

It just feels…empty. A void that evidently lacks that special element. One that will never be found, not unless you truly understand what you are searching for.

Life is split into three moments. During the first one, you’re actually looking for a goal. Something to pursue. That special something that’ll show you life actually has a purpose and through it everything will fit into place.

That is, until you actually find what you’re looking for. Then comes into place the second moment. A time of sweat and despair in which you’re just doing your best to achieve that special objective you’ve already determined for yourself. The smile you attained by laying eyes of your life’s passion is only hampered by the thought of not achieving it, for whatever reason.

After many years, you finally reach the pinnacle of happiness. That sweet sublime stage in which all obstacles have been conquered and your career has surrendered to your skilful attributes and abilities. Or so you thought.

It was all a hoax and you weren’t ready for the shock. It was all and scam and you fell for it. Get real. What were you thinking? Life was your own personal hammock?

And so you realize that even after attaining whatever it is you thought would make you whole, you’re not complete. You’re missing something. You lack purpose. You lack essence. Thus, after wiping the sweat from your weary heart, you come to the conclusion that you’ve been searching for the wrong thing. The third moment, which could actually be identified as a repetition of the first one, then begins.

A totally newly repetitive phase you’ve seen before. Only this time you don’t have the same motivation and naivety as before. A shorter quest that holds even more responsibility that the first one.

Years pass. Decades go by. Before you know it, you don’t even know what were your initial motives and your final conclusions. In a blink of an eye you decide stop, either because you’ve given up or because you’re dead.

If there’s one thing certain about life, it’s that you won’t make it out alive. Because we yearn for more time to sort out our baggage, we crave immortality.

This is my way of achieving eternal life. Hold my journal in your hands. Read it, study it, and learn from it. Perhaps someday my legacy will unveil greater mysteries. Perhaps someday we will be satisfied with ourselves.

Human, You Are

9 08 2008

He left us without hesitation
He left us aching in pain

My dad told me:
My son, I’ll leave you
But don’t you think I’m insane.
Never give your life to a cause
If you believe it to be vain.

I thought at the time,
It made perfect sense
My dad had a lot to gain.

But time passed on
And wars flew by
And I grew weary.

My friends were dying
My family was lying
Mass destruction was going steady.

And lust,
They were all part of society.

And pride,
We all had a new deity.

Humans are trash.
We always were,
And I can’t shake the thought.

How despicable we are
How selfish we’ve been
To hold on to what we’ve got

It is our nature,
To be human it is
And lowly in every way.

A creature of mixed results
And crazy cults.

Whatever I do,
I do it for myself.
Don’t you try and disagree.

You’re just the same.
Worthy of shame.
Identical to me.

You’ll go to the end
To attain what you want,
Even if it means getting beat.

You’ll vow revenge,
Chop off heads,
And set the example on the street.

Don’t be shy,
I ain’t high;
I’m only being honest.

You’re just a piece
Of golden trash,
Among many others.

We’re all in a dump,
Which we call home,
Whether you like it or not.

Take a deep breath,
Swallow the truth,
And accept the fact.

To be or not to be
That is not the question.

For human,
You already are.

Betrayal Gone Red

5 02 2008


We desired to be together. I did with my entirety, but she did only half. A part of her wanted to be with me and a part didn’t. Her words descended as cruel speech from a father upon his child. My inside ached, but I understood. I respected Decay and it would feel as a betrayal on my behalf.

As I treaded back to sulk into the darkness, my thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone. Nevertheless, I was rescued. The five steps that felt like kilometers were interrupted by the calling of my name. I turned and faced back. I couldn’t deny her voice.

It was unexpected, yet perfect.

Our lips touched.

Thoughts left my head and only a calm peaceful tide could be felt. Rejuvenating.

At the end, we knew words would not help at anything. We had already been careless for exposing ourselves in public, but it seemed worth it.

I smiled. She smiled back.

Then her eyes felt empty and her body fell.


Half of Decay’s sword had already pierced her from behind.

I drew my sword and as a reaction his lackeys arrived.

I used the opportunity to swing my blade. In a swift movement he retrieved his from her body and the blood escaped from the wound dragging her life with it.

The scene held my eyes in place almost long enough to join her. The high pitched swing of the blade woke me up and I evaded just in time. He held no grudge at attacking and drew a second sword from his belt. My avenging chances were slimming.

His men approached as well, but they were no match. As always, stupid enough to follow and stupid enough to fight. They lacked the intellect and the ability to truly assess the situation and confirmed the definition of disposable henchmen.

With one thrust I cut open three chests. Their leather armor was red and prevented much of the blood from being seen. An old technique to diminish the opponent’s moral. Luckily the falling of bodies and screams of agony easily substituted the strategy.

Decay seemed to laugh. I could not be sure. It was dark and he wanted me dead. I had no idea a kiss could change that much.

I wanted to swing, but my arm faltered. It hurt. It bled. Decay had somehow hit me.

My thoughts were in my way. They kept me out of focus. Where was her body?

Another musical attack headed my way. The sound metal cutting the air felt unpleasantly close.

I rapidly crouched and then tackled him with my shoulder. It worked.

Decay lost his balance. Holding two swords did not help regain the standing position. He tripped backwards, unfortunately on her body, and fell helpless.

One blade on the floor and the other held with both arms. He cowered. He acted as a child, upon the sight of a hungry bear, would.

But the bear had no words. The bear’s heart ached. The bear’s soul felt void. The bear wanted blood.

With one hit his sword flew far away. He held his clenched fists up and thought they would protect him. I took no chances. I cut them off.

I dropped tears from my eyes and the sword from my hand. I dropped my closed fist on his face. A successive session of blows and punches at first hit the flesh. Screams accompanied most of them and fueled my rage.

Some time later they stopped and I started to feel the hard and impenetrable tarmac. It seemed over.

I got up and searched for her. Tainted red and with a pale base she laid there on the floor. Back punctured and without a soul. I held her next to me. I hugged her hopping comfort would come out of it.

Decay knew everything, which meant he was a spy. A public enemy dressed in red armor portraying the eagle emblem. A traitor to the nation. And I, a traitor to a friendship.

It was all betrayal. Did the reason or consequences matter?

I would ensure they would both get a proper burial.

Would I deserve one too?

Human After All (?)

23 04 2007

Being a fan of Daft Punk, their show is hands down one of, if not the best, I’ve watched. At the 2006 performance in Rio de Janeiro their finale was flawless. While the song “Human After All” played, images of people, animals, and nature were shown on their digital pyramid. It all had a postive and happy vibe about it. But then I thought the opposite. What if “being human” isn’t necessarily good? This is the result, spanning from the first world war to present time.

Sendo um fã de Daft Punk, o show deles é um dos, se não o melhor, que já assisti. Em 2006 na performance deles no Rio, o final foi impecável. Enquanto a música “Human After All” tocava, imagens de pessoas, animais e natureza eram mostrados na pirâmide digital. Tudo tinha um clima positivo e feliz. Mas ai eu pensei no oposto. E se “ser humano” não é necessariamente uma coisa boa? Esse é o resultado, abordando desde a primeira guerra mundial até hoje em dia.

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