Thursday, August 31, 2006

I don't know why I came up with that:

It's up to me
It's up to us
Living only for the finest things.
Suffering for no reasons: NO MORE

Many times
They say what we should be like.
They tell us to be just like them.
They provide us a God, lifestyle, and fake wellness

Gotta do this
Gotta say that
Gotta behave like this
Gotta cut down on fat

Surprisingly,
Not many reject those forces.
In fact,
The majority respects them.
And it concludes: "What else could we do?"

Why can't they know what to do?
How is it possible to be that fool?
What about being exploited, used, and heisted?
Untie the knots of these damn leashes
Measure your days by the number of words you spit
See yourself through the eyes of the beholder and make them fit

Don't let those strange forces tell you what to buy, sell, or wear
Don't allow your ears listen to crap radio songs
Deny corporate media
Abolish corporate speak
Don't get me started on corporatewear
Prevent your brain with MTV-proof material as well

Most of my favorite writers has had insane mothers
Has Got alcohol issues and intense sexual lives
They've left plenty of legacy to be enjoyed
and it will not be taken for granted.
They had untied their knots way before they were even born

Follow your deep ID wills
Do NOT erase your past
Rewrite it on a golden covered book
Restore your old pictures
and rearrange all fossils

Run AWAY from demented thoughts
Scream to the top of your lungs
Sort out your desires
Fulfill your needs or procrastinate that as you please.

You are not bad
but you are not good either
You are just like me
But time keeps running out...


by Laila Chris

Friday, August 25, 2006

Monday or Tuesday


This is my first post after months (literally months) trying to write something substantial here. I had left my original blog URL and that has caused a sort of hard time for some readers to find me on the web. I've gone through a lot and that is pretty much what I can say about my days down here in Brazil. I'm way glad to have recovered my old posts. I'm pleased with my new template (Lori said good things about it too. "YAY!"). I'd rather publish daily posts from now on but I am still not able to do that because my teaching duties seem to never end. I've been working at a frantic pace, about 14 hours a day, and my head spins just like tops sometimes. I went through meds and I still take some food supplements just to cope with this crazy load of work. My responsibilities have doubled... no no no tripled now. The best thing is that I am NOT complaining. I'm just excusing myself since I have not written a word since two months ago. The excess of work does not bother me at all. It just leads me to a madness for not finding time to dedicate to my writings like I used to. Regardless, I always find time for some reading. I've copied and pasted one of my favorite on this very post. Here's a "short" by Virginia Wolf and I hope someone likes it. I'll be back folks... I'll post more... I'll say it all.

Monday or Tuesday
by Virginia Woolf (1882–1941)


LAZY and indifferent, shaking space easily from his wings, knowing his way, the heron passes over the church beneath the sky. White and distant, absorbed in itself, endlessly the sky covers and uncovers, moves and remains. A lake? Blot the shores of it out! A mountain? Oh, perfect—the sun gold on its slopes. Down that falls. Ferns then, or white feathers, for ever and ever——

Desiring truth, awaiting it, laboriously distilling a few words, for ever desiring—(a cry starts to the left, another to the right. Wheels strike divergently. Omnibuses conglomerate in conflict)—for ever desiring—(the clock asseverates with twelve distinct strokes that it is midday; light sheds gold scales; children swarm)—for ever desiring truth. Red is the dome; coins hang on the trees; smoke trails from the chimneys; bark, shout, cry “Iron for sale”—and truth?

Radiating to a point men’s feet and women’s feet, black or gold-encrusted—(This foggy weather—Sugar? No, thank you—The commonwealth of the future)—the firelight darting and making the room red, save for the black figures and their bright eyes, while outside a van discharges, Miss Thingummy drinks tea at her desk, and plate-glass preserves fur coats——

Flaunted, leaf-light, drifting at corners, blown across the wheels, silver-splashed, home or not home, gathered, scattered, squandered in separate scales, swept up, down, torn, sunk, assembled—and truth?

Now to recollect by the fireside on the white square of marble. From ivory depths words rising shed their blackness, blossom and penetrate. Fallen the book; in the flame, in the smoke, in the momentary sparks—or now voyaging, the marble square pendant, minarets beneath and the Indian seas, while space rushes blue and stars glint—truth? content with closeness?

Lazy and indifferent the heron returns; the sky veils her stars; then bares them.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

M a y b e

Talvez

Quando te vi
Não soube o que dizer
Quando te vi
Preferi
Talvez meditar e relevar
Assegurar-me e exprimir
Palavras certas,
Mensagem clara,
Ofertar meu tempo,
Dividir meu afeto,
Não forçar o momento,
Definir o conjunto
De fatores que me levam
Até você.
Não tendo mais o que falar
Procurei pensar
Em algo mais direto
Sem ser vulgar
Só queria mostrar
As pulsações
O concreto
Demorei demais
Cansei-te
Não estando mais lá
Rezei para voltar
Mais tarde talvez
Talvez
Talvez


by Laila Chris

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Mount Fuji

These are Márcia's* photos. She took those in Japan while trekking out there. She's a brilliant photographer. Check some more here at http://www.flickr.com/photos/ma_nihey/
*Márcia Nihei was my college mate when I was majoring JOURNALISM. Kisses GIRL!!!! ;-D

Thursday, August 17, 2006

I am back for good!

THANKS FOR THE LATEST COMMENTS, GIRLS!!! I'M WAY HAPPY TO BE BACK.
THE ONLY PROBLEM IS THAT I'VE BEEN VERY BUSY STILL, SO I CAN'T SAY WHEN I WILL RESTART POSTING TEXTS OF MY OWN - "SORRY FOR THAT!"


LOVE YOU ALL: FINEARTIST, RAIN, WRITERMOM, ZILLA, SARAH, PHOENIX AND SASSY!!!! I dedicate this video to you all!!!

Is it the end of it all?

A bit of imagination I can’t push the knife in I can’t make the cut I can’t turn the wheel I can’t step off the kerb I can’t take the p...