Bloc

All those ramblers, my bag full of strawberries and mushrooms, I set out a bit numb in the middle of the crowd with one thing in my mind: give up. I thought of myself as a beautiful corpse. I made a shrine inside my red channel lipstick and put all my desires in there. Don't get me wrong (or do, whatever), this is all very positive.

I thought at first the hard bit would be ignoring the sea of beautiful men coming my way, but it wasn't. It was my own self-righteousness. Yes, he came in black, all nice and smiley but I went the other way. Then another, a blond god, oh my gosh. If I were to design a man he would look just like that. Lots of tasty angles and the music. No. I managed to hold the mushroom twist and keep on studying paradoxes. I won't let you, blond Greek god, sweep me off my feet. I've got more important things to do.

My mates, bless them, so nice and cheerful, made me feel a glimpse of belonging every now and then. Belonging to the human race, let me explain in time, cos the unseen, the grass, the frequencies of the music, oh yeah, they all blinked at me 24/7. Love, love, love.

But then Serotonin levels started to run low and they all blamed each other for their own faults. To watch it is quite funny, sometimes boring, but certainly lovely under Hemsby sun. Since I decided to fight my addiction to self-righteousness, I managed to keep my mouth shut, never mentioning projections or the "like treat like" theory. A festival is not exactly the right time to trace parallels between Jung and Homeopathy.

My mind wondered quite a few times back to that Alpha A Plus semi-god in black, and for really long 5 seconds I even projected a holography of him leaning on the pool table. What a fucking cliche! I thought of a funny part on The War of Emmanuel's Neither Parts: "He was taught how to make knives and arrowheads out of teeth, mussel shell and split bamboo, he played music in the huts on pan-pipes, bark trumpets, and the goo. No woman was never allowed to see the musicians play in case she should think it effeminate, and any woman who did see was obliged to allow the offended musician to prove his virility."

What a brilliant fashion. Hey DJ, I think you are fucking gay.

Finnish Disco Lesson

:)

Nothing

Do you know the feeling of no feeling? Fucking hell it rocks. I don't feel much anything. It's like... well... I'm not happy, I'm not sad, I'm not concerned or feeling repulsion in any way. I dragged myself to this word document, don't know why. Maybe is the reminiscent of a long time dead joy of expression, who knows. But yes, I walk around in a newly acquired state of mind, facing the once full of promises with a blank face, stumbling into chameleon thoughts changing from red to blue, whispering potential happiness with an accent of sorrow. I ignore them, and they go away. I know you bastards well and your hands are made of jelly, schizoid hands, take you to paradise and hell in no time. I chose neither. I don't choose neither.

I did not force myself into all this, dear reader. It happened to me after a wave of desire and I decided to keep it. Once you spend long enough into it, it keeps itself. I laugh at it and everything else, and I laugh a lot. Now THAT I had to force myself into at first. Not that I don't laugh, I do, but this is a different kind of laugh. It's much funnier than before and yet doesn't make my face go red. It is hilarious. It has no opposite. Just like Love.

Viral marketing at its best

Hooked

No, I didn't think at any second I wouldn't get it. England wants me. I want England too. 3 hours, no cigarettes, bags of documents were not that necessary in the end. No questions, they granted me the indefinite leave to remain in the UK. I could sign up tomorrow and sleep forever but I WON'T!! I'M GONNA GO TO NEW YORK! HAHAHAHA. IIIIIIIII WAAAAAANNA WAKE UP... IN THE CITY... THAT NEVER SLEEPS...

No, I won't. People, I'm off to my first cricket session. When in Rome, do like the Romans do, so I will play cricket, drink earl grey tea, talk about politics and other very masculine things while acting very gay. What? This is not very English? Blimey. So, I really don't know what to do. Forget about the English thing then. Let's just talk politics. Did you get your redemption yet? I've seen it real cheap on a Chinese website. Postage included.

While we're in the subject "hooked on things we can't control" I must say it is just an excuse for not doing the things we have control over. Do you remember that thing you said you would do? Yes, that one. Did you do it?

I'm busy, very buzzzzzzy zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

A recent study conducted by the sociology department of Oxford University found out that most people under forty living in London spend 37% of their time telling other people how busy they are. 57% of the sociology department of Oxford University spend 24% of their time telling people they are too busy calculating how long people spend telling people how busy they are, and life goes on.

I decided not to be busy for the whole month of February and it rocks! I'm playing chess for an average 3 hours a day, sitting in my bed and breathing without any intent to meditate or do anything other than breath and sit for about 1 hour, avoiding my computer till I start shivering which takes me about 20 minutes each time, and finally making music, the only thing I'm actually doing. Please don't get jealous. It's a terrible feeling. I'm probably poorer than you if it makes you feel better.

Between one song and another I grabbed one of those magazines that comes with the Sunday newspaper and read an interview with Amy Winehouse. That was the first time I ever heard of her. I had this weird feeling that I, myself, was answering the questions. Every word she said could be mine. That was fucking scary. She's groovy and now that I heard her music I like her even more. Ladies and gentz, Amy Winehouse.

Also, great news: RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE IS BAAAACK!! I can see myself being thrown up and down in a stadium full of people, finally listening to one of the best bands on earth, LIVE! Thanks guys! You can't imagine how happy I am. I love you!! Rrrrraaaaaaaaaaghhbmabakbboagaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrr!!!

Rejuvenation, mate.

An eagle can live up to 70 years but to reach this age she has a very difficult decision to make. When she reaches 40 she has long flexible claws that can't grab preys, her beak is long and bendy, her wings are too old, her feathers are heavy and she can't fly, so she has two options: die, or face a renovation period lasting 150 painful days.

If she decides to endure, she flies to the top of a mountain and hides in a nest close to a wall where she won't need to fly. She bangs her beak against the wall till it falls, then she waits till a new one grows so she can pull her claws off, and when new claws grow she pulls off her feathers. Ouch. So after 5 months are gone she flies away to live 30 years more.

I thought this was a beautiful analogy for renovation and explains well why I'm tearing my hair out, poking m eyes with a spoon, scratching my limbs with my midi cable, and other painful things, but there is nothing growing back. I'm just red and bleeding.

I decided to do my rejuvenation flight and went to a Soma workshop. It was created by somatherapist, writer and psychologist Roberto Freire in the 60 in Brazil, in the middle of the military regime and explores anarchism and group work. We spent 3 hours jumping out of tables over each other, being pushed and pulled in many fun ways, always secured that our mates would hold us. I really feel more confident and trustworthy after that. I recommend you all to do a Soma workshop if you have the time. After the next session we are going to get a group of people together to play different anarchist games once a week for 12 weeks. If you live in London, write Goia an email and he will send you more information: jorge.goia AT somaterapia.com.br

Dreamland of Portishead

What is harder? Save the world or choose you favourite Portishead song? I think choosing. Who wants to have a favourite anyway? Who tha fuck came up with this idea in the first place? Favourite... Blah... The concept of favourite irritates me so deeply it makes me hate a once potentially special person just because of this stupid question. What is you favourite type of music? Oh, get lost! I can listen to it all!! Very bad thing to hate cos it seems people are eager to wrap themselves in comfortable labels, as if becoming that favourite thing.

Aaaaaaaanyway, This is a topic for a whole different post. Today I want to talk about Portishead, ladies and gentleman. It can make the most unpalatable human being seems sexy, and it's no good. Haha. But hey, if you're with a real sexy person in your bedroom, put this music on and you'll see. Pure bliss. If you are alone, well, you know what to do, don't ya? To me, this is perfect music. Have a few, cos I could not decide for just one.

Portishead's Musik

E-Books

Got my book section up and running again. Have a look. Feel free to grab anything you like, and if there's something special you can't find, google it, get it, give it to me and I'll add it to the library.

It is not in alphabetical order and you can't read the full title. It's all crowded and messy and I don't know how to change it. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

My E-books

R.A.W. rests in peace

Robert Anton Wilson Defies Medical Experts and leaves his body @4:50 AM on binary date 01/11.

All Hail Eris!

On behalf of his children and those who cared for him, deepest love and gratitude for the tremendous support and lovingness bestowed upon us.

(that's it from Bob's bedside at his fnord by the sea)

RAW Memorial February 2007
date to be announced

Guardian Obituaries

Check out a post on his blog a few days before he left us.

- Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night

Various medical authorities swarm in and out of here predicting I have between two days and two months to live. I think they are guessing. I remain cheerful and unimpressed. I look forward without dogmatic optimism but without dread. I love you all and I deeply implore you to keep the lasagna flying.

Please pardon my levity, I don't see how to take death seriously. It seems absurd.

RAW

Virtual insanity

I strongly recommend Second Life. Got there a bit lost but soon found my mates girlfriend and went for a walk with her, sweet creature. Some places look very nice and I even managed to find a meditation place/art gallery where you earn while you sit on sofas. My second life is as easy as my first one. I've got a nice body, a strong name and money. Asked my first second life friend a few questions and we soon agreed (she's Brazilian) that I needed a pussy. She took me to a specialist shop where I bought a highly customizable xoxota for a bargain. Not a wise thing to do on your first day there cos I was still getting used to the controllers and things so trying it out, matching the colours and learning how to hide, show, pee, come and all these things vaginas do was a mission.

I put my clothes on, and she teletransported us two to a beach in Brazil. We strolled around while I played with my new toy, hiding and showing. She gave me a motorcycle and I got stuck with it in a hole. She laughed and asked me if I wanted to go back to the pussy shop to try and match my pussy with my skin colour. Off we went. I forgot to get off the bike before we travelled and got stuck in that motorbike position. So then I was naked, bending with a multicoloured pussy showing, half of my body outside the changing room and slightly embarrassed. My second life started to kick in.

I did what I always suggest to everyone in similar circumstances. Reboot. Restart. We went to an S&M dungeon where I could strap myself to one of those wooden things and focus on my pussy. For a moment I thought that was a good analogy of my situation now but the feeling went, I matched colours and we went shopping and clubbing with my friend. Found truly amazing places and very, very interesting people. I'm a skilful mover now. It is addictive, but I definitely see the point.

Words are boxes

Words are boxes and each and every one of us paints them with colours no one else sees. The more words we learn the more we think we live in a spacious house with a garden, but still they limit us, still we are scared to go out sometimes. Some people, like women in chauvinistic cultures, live in a world of 2000 words or less. Some may think it's cosy in there, since you wouldn't have much to clean or fix like a small flat downtown, but most are trapped in a very small cage, with no shelves to put their worldly memories on. Their memories are hanging in the air, which could as well be nice.

I have boxes inside boxes, words inside words, and despite the fact that I have many thousands of boxes, the way they are intricately piled makes any abstract wind a big threat. Would they fit the physical idea I try to convey? Mostly they don't and it's partly my fault.

I sometimes make new boxes euphorically, compulsively, to later find out that I'm only building my own dungeon, what doesn't stop me from decorating it with care. But after spending so much time trying to fit our different concepts inside the same boxes I decided to pretend for a few moments I live in one box only, and it feels good. It made me make fewer boxes and also open them to free the content. Right now, as I finish this writing, I'm walking into a very tiny box, and all things in life have no name.

My Arcadia

I'd much rather love than be loved. If both happen, great, but if I had to choose, oh silly supposition, I would choose to love. It happens inside our precious minds and every cell, every receptor loves and floats in this beam of eternity. Those little 5 square inches in the back of your neck is as in love as your mind is when your lover floods your mind space. Every single inch is as in love as you feel when for a few moments, or hours if it's a huge love, there is noboby else in the world. Just you and your loved one. Just love. Try it now. Your whole body is listening.

We sometimes fool ourselves, thinking that we must reach the loved one, touch the loved one, but I think we are tripping. We must hold the loved one with care in our minds and love. Can you see your loved one bursting with laughter? I can see it! My loved one is so happy! My loved one has a golden white light all around his body and he shines with happiness and bliss. He has everything. He is everything. A self-contained fraction of the world's finest feelings. Can you feel this feeling? Close your eyes. There is no tomorrow, there is nothing apart from your love. Every time you breath in and out your lover feels even happier, and you feel happy too, because you love with no boundaries (yes, you can) and every bit of your body greets this wave of love with the joy of those who just found out that they will live forever.

I'm sure I will see you again. Oh, maybe not. But that is not the point. I just want you to live in my mind for now, for there you are the most beautiful source of delight, my Arcadia, divine happiness, my unconditional love. Your smell... I remember your heavenly smell... Oh no, no, not down that road...

Hypocrisy in the tropics

Every time I come back to Brazil is the same thing. Who shagged whom? Who wants to kiss whom? Kiss, kiss. Shag, shag. Gringos go there and go crazy! Wow, you're very liberated, you Brazilians, hu? No, my dear, we're very stuck in a loop. Everyone thinks about fulfilling his or her immediate needs. No long time planning at all! Food, sex, things that give us instant buzz, ooohh yeah, loads. The thing that bugs me the most is that they talk about sex, they actually have loads of sex but there is a constant taboo and the girls who admit liking it are called sluts and other sweet names. My reaction to it was to move out and avoid sexual relationships with Brazilians. It works. I feel free to yell to the world I have an amazing sexual past, I like sex, but I don't always talk about it. Do I write about sex here? Rarely! It's always on my mind but I make it special. It is the most amazing thing in life and men in England are very aware of that. Brazilians are mostly vulgar, trapped in the social-sexual circuit, blind to the fact that they are prisoners to their own sexuality, and the government loves it!! We have all the resources a country needs to be completely self sufficient, yet we are slaves to U.S.A., fucked in the arse by our politicians due to our complete ignorance and "joy de vivre". Carpe diem, my fellow Brazilians. Enjoy it to the most. Shag while politicians fuck you. I'm here with sex on my mind, feeling the bliss of having, on the top of sex, loads of other concerns, plans and hopes.

I don't know if you know Cicarelli. She's a beautiful model/MTV presenter that recently married/divorced Ronaldo, the fat football player. She was filmed with her new businessman boyfriend on the beach in Spain, kissing and hugging, getting in the water and discreetly shagging him with water up to her waist. The video ended up on youtube and the Brazilians went crazy! They flooded the Internet reaching unprecedented view rates. They left astonishingly rude comments and Cicarelli is now officially a whore in Brazil. She was shagging her BOYFRIEND in Spain, so to the narrow Brazilian minds she is a slut. My first thought when a stupid Brazilian mate sent me the video was, it must be quite uncomfortable to shag under water. My second thought after reading the comments and the articles about the whole public reaction was, THANK GOD I LEFT THAT SHITHOLE! In time, sorry my dearest friends. You are wonderful exceptions. Hope you are surrounded by other exceptions too.

Now the amoebas can't access youtube cos they are not allowed to see the video due to a legal action. Hahahahahahahahahaha
That’s what you get for being so stupid. Twats.

There's a huge amount of morons here too, and they read celebrity news just like them fucking Brazilians, but at least they admit it, they enjoy their mental illness to the full. If you're ill, enjoy your illness. Well done English morons. If you buy certain garments cos such and such wore them just to have a bit of immortality, go for it. Soon more of you are going to realize we are already immortal, and you, I, the Brazilians, are all the same fucking thing.

By the way, this is the video. Sweet little beach shag. Beautiful Cicarelli, hope you had an immense orgasm and that your businessman boyfriend takes you to places, far away from the Brazilian crap. Love (and sex), P

Lucid after Christmas

Some friends squatted a 32 million pound (?) house in beautiful square in central London. They live there, yes, for now. We gathered for a Christmas celebration that lasted 3 days, spread across 5 floors, but happened mainly in that amazing room in the basement... umm... I tried to write about it but after deleting everything 3 times I decided to share with you the fact that I had to chuck a piece of clothing in the bin when I got back home. We actually discussed how to face the outside world after all that finished. That's cos we were quite lucid. Too much I think. Anyway, since my literacy left me unelaborated I'll pass this text to you. It's about little DMT creatures. I traced a parallel in my head. That's all I can say, really.

http://deoxy.org/timemind.htm

Merry Christmas - The making of Santa Claus

Part 1



Part 2

50p? No, thanks.

I share my bandwidth with my lovely housemates, but sometimes the modem crashes, and it is locked in the office, and I don't have the key so fuck it. Got myself a nice cable internet for a reasonable price. They are coming next week! Pretty quick! The cable internet lady offered me cable TV for only 50p more and I said NO really loud. TV is not worth 50p! I love that it rhymes...

Should I stay or should I go?

Imagine