Call Boy

On friday I started up my new Job, fund through Dorian (thanks again).

It´s my first seated job, I´ve got to phone up to Italian videogame stores, and ask over the best sold games of the month for each console.
I was quite proud of my 11 filled up statistics ( in 5 hrs), I learned in 15mins how to use the program, and in 25 all the shortcuts I can use whitout feeling guilty about.
The office is cool and bright full of young people, sadly I´m a bit isolated from the other cubicles, I work in a back office whit the only PC whit internet connection ( new comer privilege I guess).
My boss is a walking stereotipe, he´s the perfect super dinamic young manager, smiling like a steward, and speaking faster than a train, his eyes are strangely round and close to his nose giving his nordic lineaments a bird like connotation (my father said that they aim at the target, suggesting his appartenence to an evolved menagement race).
Although this Job is somewhat of a coincidence, and at the lowest level of his type I have a strange feeling of accomplishment getting out from the office in the surreal lights of the Hafen city, whit his brand new Buildings and huge Building sites.
To survive in such a job (not to bore my socks off) I just need to learn the programs that I´m using, get skilled and diversify my job, hopefully they are going to use me for surveys in the UK.
But the priority is always the german language, gotta do my homeworks...

RR

The reading rush in german is officially started, I´m currently reading Homo Faber from Max Frisch. (he´s a well known german writer, gotta look up on him).
I´m also reading articles on Magazines and news papers, today I bought a number of NEON a really entertaining joung magazine. Apart from classic reportages and editorials there is a great number of articles focused totally unknown people who just happened to be interesting enough for the paper, and it´s such fun to read.
The pictures are also great they pour creativity all over.
It´s so cool, thinking that I was starving myself from reading in other lenguages not to feel guilty about German.

Sundays sees Sunday

Half day sleeping

Half day Dying

Psycoshyntesis

This is a letter that I never sended to a Mailing list about Psychosynthesis
I modified it for the Blog..............................Yaiiii:-)

............................Is anyone there!!!!???


What life is for:

Well an old friend of mine, who was over fifty, always quoted (dunno from whom):

Life´s a Bitch....... and than you dye.

In other words: atheistic acceptation of the concept of Universal pessimism: (see Giacomo Leopardi the poet) the energy that caused your beeing does not love you, life is a struggle (guess buddhism is about that).
In this case a logical scientific and standard emotional mind accept this, sufference all over.

A more subbtle mind turns to agnosticism, still sufference.
But other´s crazy lucky bastards who developed a taste for the spiritual or metafisical side of our exsistance, claim of astral planes, unity and mutation, they say that death it´s a transformation and fear stops us from expressing our potential encountering the next form of beeing.
I think my Granpa sincerely thought that in the grave was it. Takes acceptation not to be overwhelmd by sadness (i think his beeing socialist did the trick) when you think that your consciousness is not there anymore not only for others but for yourself .
Your sense of self going away, danger!
Your sense of self as body and thoughts will desappear, but your Soul, the Soul, our awareness will melt and be loved by everything, that itself conceives.
We really don´t see unity, continuum, within ourselves and others.
I´ve grown in bad provincial modern individualism, I´m free.
Sometime I think that someone who feels more connected to others is happier: like a joung nazi , a supporter in a stadium, a chinese on parade, Adam at a rave party, but well guess you´d have some argouments for me, like this guys feel good in their slice but if you ask them respectively about jewish, the opposing team, democracy, and mothers, they themselve would prove mine a weak point.
So the feeling of unity must be of another nature, can be:

emotive:that sellfish bastard is now seeing what shame feels like;

accidental : I may be connected to my favorite Hollywood actor by a series of only 20 people and events.

mathematic: spirals are a redoundant element in the conformation of the universe, like flowers, shells, galaxies, pretty people.

sublime and aesthetic: in every point there is a universe,

and consequently horrifingly romantic: in your eyes I see a galaxy.

This vision takes away time, space, mind, pretty much the stuff that Eckhart gee.....hem genius was talking about, the perfect mindless stillness were potential lays in his perfection and can take action instrumentally when is needed within the mind or the body, well now I switched to Aurobindo, what the heck I´m just a confused guy and my writing its a mess hope it´s entertaining and well I doubt you understood everything. Just think that we are one, and generations are an abstraction and the reality it´s an uncatchable continuum and thinking whith oppositios, adjectives and quantities it´s sure useful but emotionally and existentially deceiving

My potential lays everywhere
but my will takes no recognition

A....r to the question is?

A JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!

swimming
diving
Horse riding
reading
walking
beauty
maddness
love
interesting faces
places
jumping
singing
me me me me me me
me me me me me
me me me me
me me me
me me
me
m........
.........hemmm

Is that tradeable?,

Also can I sell myself?, again?..... (look e-bay the Italian slave)
i wanna spread myself as bitter honey
onto the world



Is there a Manual?

Incents and ashes

And no one is here....

Wait,

I lost track of my sigaret

gotta lit back black ashes

into flaming thoughts

Today I bought two incents sorts: Amber and safron patchouli
don´t know wether to lit them or not, my room is so small...I can smell a single stick out of the package as I enter.
I spended 5 euros, inside the package there was a small brochure it said they were made in Auroville, it sounds fake as Verbania...my home town (not fake).
Still many more people know where Auroville is (freaks of all nations).
It´s in India a made up town for collective enlightement, founded by Sri Aurobindo and her girlfriend so called "Mother" both claiming to be Avatars.......I believe it.
Look up integral Yoga, the most reasonable alternative for whom seeks ascetic segregation.
Still I think they are well made and stupidly (of me(could have gone in a cheaper shop) ) expansive. Let´s see wich mystical influences will they give to my sleep.
A friend of mine is reading a quite famous book that teaches how to get any girl, it spans from lying to Neuro linguistical Programmation and body lenguage. I´d really like to speak up girls at the supermarket, on the street, at the library, but I think the book is more party-orientated. And it says nothing about Love....the one part that I get most confused on.
well...gd night

Desaspirations

I think it would be good for me to concentrate on something material, a job, something professional but artistic.
I´m gathering some thoughts and maybe the will to make it.
Dunno lately as I came back to germany planning to really concentrate on the lenguage, I just watched myself while bothering preoccupations filled up my mind:
Why is the money I saved up this summer slipping so fast trough my fingers?
Why m I so not wanting another stupid job in another stupid cafe´?
Why is my room so dark and windowsless?
Why havent i got a real round of friends here in Hamburg?
Will I go sometimes to University in this tough toungued Land?

It has to stop, it has to stop, it has to stop.

Will inform you on the process, wish me luck...... and focus

0

What do we see?

looking at the source of things:

a flaming fountain

of terror and beauty

a mouth that screams,

the

desperate rave of beeing.

Pours

Intense emotions

as in a dream,

going mild

reaching our earth.

Why?

do we lack the sight,

to reach the stillness inside.

why are our thoughts

spinning like all the rest.

are we getting to an end

or diverging into ourselves?

looking at two directions

spires surround me both ways,

between it´s foggy

the path is nowere to be seen

shall I for once stand still?

How do I get out from here?

From the door allright!

Says a man out from the mist

But the one that you can´t think of

Adds whit jolly humor him.

For a second I lost it all...
Today hitch-hicking back to Hamburg I suddenly woke up in a suv driving 150mph,
and for a minute i went totally mad.
My mind was so slow and dumm from sleep that i couldn´t tell where the hell I was, in the meanwhile I observe the speed like I istantly accellerated from a still position, completely confused I turn and i look at a quite chilled looking stranger whos piloting this bullet: the result is an accomulated fear that unable to be externated, continues to feed a sense of pure confusion that reaces a peak and than abituated to the speed slowly compromises whit the actual floating memory of what actually happened before i woke, in other words: WHAT THE FUCK!???!

For You

Enjoyment
I'm looking for you,

I found it in your arms
but was never enough

I sought it once
in the glimpse of a realm
placed gently on a cloud,
a bright soft happy mass.

But was too high

and those perfect bricks
and spot clean streets
and liberty stile castles

got eventually on my nerves


Cherries, roses and happy endings
contemplative briefness
those white brown funny insects,
also wondrous
tiny energetic midgets

No need to comfort me
from my thirst of sublime
and thick realities

only stick around
so I can be whole,
from time to time

Let me blow against your face
the random things that build your faults
let me burst into my trousers
the random shit that build my judgment

Confused, focused on collapsing
I lay staring at emptiness
attacking ragefull my wishes

And the day passes till I bump
into salvation;
unespected help
from unespected people
in unespected ways
answer to my prayers

pushing me a step higher

ready,


to fall,


again,


thank you.

Liquid me, liquid us

I don´t want to sink
till the bottom of things

I want to enjoy
the blue space within

Contemplate infinitely
the universe of possibilities

Clueless but bright
becoming all that is

a vast vast sea

the placenta melts
and I can swim again

I want to explain why I get so mystical at times.

The first couple of months in Hamburg as I settled for a job and a stable place to live I had a period which end coincided whit my first visit back to Italy, since I left it three months before.

This period was a period of anxiety, fearless but redoundant.

A deep wrinkle would form on my forehead, darkening my expression in contemplating all the negative egoic issues I could think about.

(just go and read some of my posts, you´ll find alternatively haunted and catartic moods)

There is noise, bothering noise and from the unanswered questions spring frustration and rage.

I don´t get depressed I get nichilist, reality stops to make sense.

In a world where my feelings are concealed in fiction (movies and books) the only things that bother my existance are thoughts, and they are so many.

I think about the proper way to live, the best.

My eye is restless and starting new things lights up for a moment the only feeling that I´m good at, Curiosity: and the hope that this time I´ll find my thing, my love, my passion.........

My eye admires beauty, beauty can be reproduced fantasized and is not stable enough ground to bring me back from alienation.

Feelings are quickly processed into thoughts, causes and explanations

And my reality fades in abstraction.

As I came back to Italy that first time, my friend Simone (also called Simo Zebra Ziba Zibra,Zibrella Zibo) brought me to a diksha session held by the father of another close friend and three other “channels”.

Diksha is: (source www.diksha.com)

Deeksha is a transfer of spiritual energy to the neocortex of the brain. Deeksha initiates a neurobiological change in the brain that when complete enables the senses to be free from the constant interference of the mind. When the senses are unclouded by the mind’s interpretations, a natural clarity of perception occurs with accompanying spontaneous feelings of joy, inner calmness and a connection to the Oneness in everything.

Deeksha is transferred by the Deeksha giver normally placing his or her hands onto the crown of the head. Experiences during the deeksha vary, sometimes strong, sometimes subtle, sometimes delayed until even days later. The recipient may experience a tingling sensation in the head, or blissful feelings running through the body, or sometimes nothing at all. Whatever the experience, the recipient can trust that the process of enlightenment has begun, a process designed for your own nature that will lead gradually (or sometimes spontaneously) into Awakening

This session was one of the first defined experiences where something unexplainable leads me to know that there is much more to enjoy in the world than we could hope for.

This experience gave me back my hidden sufference multiplied by the one of the entire humanity, the tears were so strong and sweet at the same time.

This energy annihilated my mental noise (Echkart Tolle uses this term) in less than half a minute the reality of my feelings and even a bigger one had than no boundaries to cross.

I´m not an enlightened, most of the experiences I had fail many times to make sense or I don´t have the competence to interpret them, I put forward a couple of hypothesis, and manytimes reading about this realities I do find clarity and causal explanations.

Diksha, as meditation practice and yoga do, open you up to two dimensions, your personal unconscious reality, source of blocages and fears, as well as to an higher dimension where a trascendental encompassing reality is manifested.

Let´s not live in a cage, lets live and feel all the tones of existance

I´m trapped in my thoughts, I´m tasting back my feelings.

If I´m part of a massive illusion, than I´m happier whit it.

I´m exercizing and constatating how my mood swings and my energy flows
in ways that I never expect, last day just laying down in relaxation whit a yoga class I feel an arm touching me and making gentle pressure underneath my heart, I open my eyes and no one is there.

Let´s pay attention to what happens in and around us whitout expectations, that´s the way to inner peace.

There is a whole world experiencing and studing this, let´s listen.........

You skeptic I know what you are thinking, stop it. Doubt does as much good to me as it does to you.

And I find myself late writing another Postem (a post w/t a poem), it´s spring, I got back my day.
just wanna take a bit of it to recall the winter angst, still bothering me on the back of my mind, here it is:

Cracking wood

As I Contemplate the despair brought

by each desire,

I ask myself -Who m I-.

If questioned, I´ll deny

If coherced, I´ll cry.

If cornered, I´ll lie

If quarreled, I´ll slay

Tamed true tollerance,

Is what I need to eat

Coherence and acceptance.

Sincere, pure, benevolence.

Is what I want to hear

Foolishnes and Normality,

Both true sides of one reality,

are begging me to look,

from one the other's fault.

Confused by, a lack of unity.

I lay and contemplay,

This protoglorious day.

Hostel tigri pays back

Your words flipped my eyes
toward who I´m
whitout my dreams,
and fantasies failing to conform.

Emptiness.

You pinched my last thick chord,
it plays only despair.

I´m infinite vibrating sadness,
and you´ve heard my cry.

I´ll always hear that deep note
on the back of my mind.

And Thank you,

Hostel Tigri plays Back again.

A Big grit of Madness Posted to Hell

Roaring burst of flames, screams devour the ears of the living ones, brown and red, a scarlet orgiastic flood of fighting bodies, and us, the regnants.
Us prevailing.
Shedding meaningless souls, inflicting simple perfect cuts, like amazed sadistic childrens descovering new rainbows trough the open livers of a hundred imploring mens.
Just us, you, naked and hypnotized rocking back and forth that long thin knife, so many lifes you´ve stolen for the sake of Victory, how can your blade still gleaming, so pure and white?
At each unperceivable glance a man falls; and your lips curve, in discrete lust.
I keep slaughtering, jealous of the man that pleased you in the instant of his fall, I look sad and ragefull back in your eyes checking my reflection, hoping madness will not steal my fire. You stare back trough me, sweet reassuring, you kill a young boy kneed in armless pray wearing neither pity nor concern, but for me and my jealousy.
There is just the two of us in this boiling war, in this rumbling game where players wear either red or death, no rush you show keeping that pale thin walk. I spinn my fists and weapons in exploding gracious moves, twisting necks and smashing skulls, cutting troaths and spilling souls, to impress you: fanatic addict suiciding for my Qeen. Each fiber of my muscles flex to you, my Mistress.
I sacrifice each victims to your immortality, judgement or laugh as long as your attentions focuses onto me, for a moment, and nothing else.
Joker Warrior Slave of Love I´m, and nothing else my God.

Is fear the sick face of desire? are they both superfluous?
The animal in me rises, wants it´s share of suicidal banging his head against something solid.
Scream you beast and flex to destroy.
Is there a lack of acceptation? Can you be loved if you dont play right?
You cannot be loved for what you are, you can be loved for the rituals you enact in the best stereotyped way, where creativity hides deeper need to conform, mating rituals between actors,rituals of fairness and galateo, the ancient lines of good business.
Is love at the end a system? what are we craving for?
To me this spiritual terminology made of awakening,compassion,universal,evolution,pray, light wisdom and joy is forced.
M I but a believer as anyone else, failing acceptation and plaing my part everyday. I haven´t been trough the ultimate and I pretend I have been killed a million times, I play like understanding the responsibility that the universe has put on my shoulders, but at the end I´m unable to fill up the content of this destiny as everyone else. and the world spinns and wI kill precious questions in a blink.
You arose the beast in me and it´s probably a good thing reminding me that I don´t understand why I get so Mad.
What m I supposed to do?
Go to Bed earlier?
Eat healty?
Don´t take grass?
Don´t cheat
make love?
Have friends?
Study german?
Go to UnI
Grow up?
What is it?
I´m trying......not hard enough?. What´s this restlessnes?
And why m I sharing the mood of an entire population?
What´s this pissed off tiger ready to splitt your head
or his own.
Why?
Why?
What does it mean? M I asking the wrong questions?
Is it my fear speaking? shall I put a price tag on my head, offer on E-bay and see how many bidders are out there for the Italian slave?
M I asking for love? admiration? Fame? Money? do I play the same vain games of a Boyband? Aren´t you too?
There is a card in the Tarocchi.
The hanged man, an enlightened Hero accepting the fork, Jesus, this is my game, can mankind play it twice and still be right? Is this our game?

I´m sure there will be a day, and I´ll be about thirty, where the game will have gotten so complex that everyone will simply forget how to play. There our deams will glue to reality and each human beeing will be eager to stand up and live a new morning.

Dreams.

Last night I dreamed of beeing prisoner in a chinese hospital.
The hospital was a massive rectangular structure where paired with normal chinese patients where held political prisoners that were to be hidden and killed anytime soon. The security wasn´t that good and me and another fugitive where excaping switching continuously lifts and stairs not to be tracked by the guards. The atmosphere was anxious, the prisoners where supposed to ignore their destiny and where not closely controlled, that gave us a chance to excape, at the end we menaged and as we are driving out of the hospital with a car, we can see underneath the road were huge industrial structures that ended over a gigantic dam, in the last seen I´m on a mountain looking anxiously back at the hospital still in eyesight.
Dunno wheter before or after, I also dreamed of speaking with Bush, I cannot remember the exact contenct, but in the dream I felt really connected whith the man and agreeing on the overall american policy i suggested a more expansive and open action in the middle east supported by some spiritual arguments that he was really happy to hear, once he was gone I felt really good because indirectly I would have helped to expand and direct the USA in his foreign policy, sharing a much deeper moral that would affect millions of citizens once bush would report it.
Than I dreamed of beeing at a table with friends, one male was quite young and beautifull as well as a stranger, I wanted to tell him how beautifull he was but gladly another friend of mine (whos now living in Madrid) preceded me in complimenting the new guy I was proud of my friend and his ability in apreciating laudly male beauty.
Somehow the same stranger in the dream grew smaller till he became a small beautiful child whit long straight black hairs between three and 6yrs old I guess (the face was quite the one of atreiu in the Neverending story), In the dream I was cuddling him tenderly and I felt an infinite love for this child.

Shit I´m in a full nichilistic trap.
Sometimes, as I´m with other people, at german lessons, at work; a restless, angry looking,ragefull bubbling of sadness rises up of fucking nowhere.
Why m I here?, I want a girlfriend, I can´t love any that I see because I love everyone of them, crap, I wanna destroy everything, puch a wall, brake a chair, scream, what is this life?, are we building soceties and democracies just not to get bored? What is a system and this universe?, even if my soul is immortal what do I do with it? at the end anything exists can only be, how boring, what´s this multidimensional whatever, why are this revelations complicating everything whith a higher sense? what´s this evolution about? if we are one how can we evolve or change anyhow? and why shall we exist just to help ourselves?and why is it the only thing we can menage to do when our perceptions are not objective.
A sudden violent persistant irrefrenable mental masturbation assaults like a giant octopus my stressed out psychis, in public unpredictable moments.
my father says that is that I don´t get enough sleep
And he is right.

I go to sleep

Martha Crampton´s Exercize


Answers from the unconscious may also be used to get in touch with the meaning of a dream image, a drawing, or other symbolic material. Simply ask for an image that expresses the meaning of that symbol.

Spiral: maya deity´s frontal stony face

Ourobourus: A big orange garbage truck

Tao: my psicology teacher

Tomoe: a garden

-I made the exercize also with images explaining concepts or ideas

Will: a puzzle

Brain: a huge open channel

God: a 180degree mandala formed by footplants on a bright sky background

-Dreem scenes:

(A frontal three quarter view of me, shifting gradually to my eye sight)
I´m holding five gummy, flat, pointing to the cealing hands, from left three grey and two bright shiny red, the main voice of thought interpretating the image while I´was dreaming is: this is my evil part.
As I dream I feel huge anxiety and density(: destiny) : an elephant.

El Grando, now grammatically sustainable


My destiny was revealed to me at the age of eight: not as a particular object to obtain but as a prediction of the underlaying mood and motivation that would fuel each one of my actions from that moment to the ones that would come.
I was born in a quiet town in northern Brazil, my father was an Italian textile entrepreneur and my mother kept herself busy teaching poor children in the open air: a truly christian soul too busy whit her feministic messianic drives to care over all seven of us, three brothers and four sisters.
I was the fifth child, the youngest male and as well as my older brothers I soon learned to mix with the village kids, not to get bored in that big house.
Although relatively well settled we had a low profile to keep and any educational attempt from my parents house was focused on the girls, my mother´s instinct supported by well known statistics tended to set free those blessed masculine souls that somehow she gave birth to.
In the house there was the servitude to feed us and make some adult conversation, whether we stayed in the house or frequented regularly the chatolic school was left to our own will.
I started to attend lessons at the age of eight, the same morning in which my destiny was revealed to me.
It was at sunrise, as a child I had to get the most of the light and life I could or I would have not felt in peace with myself.
After a hot sleepless night haunted by the nightmares of my day, I went outside on the streets where I could for once have my awakened rest, and enjoy between day and night the morning chill that leads the sun to his daily routine.
As I stepped in the slow dream of the morn I bumped in El Grando, a sorcerer, now growing quite old and more terrifying than ever, yet he was to awaken me.
That day crossing that mad bloody gleaming glaze I wondered whether the man has ever sleept, his eyeball driven by an independent will were randomizing toward the church before falling irrevocably onto me. How a man with that look menaged to recognize me and smile is for me till now a mystery.
Which Ghosts were running through his mind? were they the same as mine?
I admired the guy and his legend, still I was scared that my story would end up in that same haunted look.
El Grando´s life was known only by myth already by the adult inhabitants of the village, for the children was a forbidden animal a walking totem, reminder of all the tabus that mankind can break an been punished for in a thousand lifetimes.
Whoever child crossed him avoided being on the same side of the road, and even then his heart beat would go drumming to his meninges, his eyes were driven magnetically to that figure, finding himself unable to look away the child´s fear would than reach a peak.
Each infant that remember meeting El Grando has also frightening blank space to deal with, they would wake from panic only by the time he was nowhere to be seen, some swore he disappeared in front of them.
That was the first time I have ever crossed El Grando, visualizing previously that encounter I imagined myself brave, chatting with the devil as with an old chap. I learned only later to trust my visions and I didn´t gave myself a chance, to escape in tears was the only plausible event.
But there and than, surprisingly coherent to my fantasies and whishes I rose curiously my head from the pebbles to his forehead, and I spoke to El Grando.

The words came up spontaneously easily covering the mad scream of my heart raised up at the first sight of his figure, I was alien to that confidence, was I speaking?


-Hi El Grando how are you?

His smile got larger but his right eye went wondering somewhere else
the left one stared at me for countless moments

-You are brave kid, but not enough for what I have to show you.-

-Or..... are you? Asked El Grando with both his eyeballs now planted into mines.

Chaos started speaking inside me -run you fool! Run, is El grando you are speaking with- My heart was unstoppable -can he hear it?- I felt his gaze through my eyes raveling now in my chest, he was looking at my soul to evaluate it I guess, from a sorcerer point of view.
He was moving my feelings as junk in a old attic, revolving them briefly trough my attention to his and then looking for something else; which one did he wanted?, even if I had a choice I lacked control: emptiness cold and burst of flames were chasing themselves inside of me.

Was at that point, lost in fear and Pride that I noticed my heart slowing down, than stopped and was now compressed, like a ripened avocado in a fist, now he wanted a straight answer, painful.
Trying to avoid the uneasiness of doom I revolved my attention outside, now I could feel back my body, how my facial expression showed no emotion but a dangerous lack of blood. I stared back at El Grando and with my last words and hopes I whispered.

Yes I´m brave, show me.

My heart pumped back.

Always staring at me El Grando took aside a peace of his open sleeve, slowly uncovering his chest, showing a marvelous grotesque scar .
The shape was of a big christian cross, it spanned the whole height of his breast, the main axe was slightly croocked toward left, and the intersection was somehow in the middle of his thorax,Baroque.
It wasn´t a knife wound, in the largest point the scar was almost three centimters wide, looked as it had been ripped off with fingernails, ran trough by a claw or an uneven pointed object, the skin healed up in the most weird twirls, worms, waves, fractals; where some attempts were made to sew up that mess the skin grew as tall as a finger, living tiny long wrinkles at the sides. In other points the wound was so deep that if there was more light I could have probably seen a rib, gruesome I wanted one, no matter how much pain.

El Grando after a contemplative moment spoke:

You see this is the scar that I have since they have ripped out my hart, I´m now a crippled man, but I´ll live longer that you can imagine, saing this he unfolded two slabs of skin at the center of the cross.

-You see......it never heals- murmoured showing his bloody finger.

-When it does I´ll Die, but now drink, because life is long and power lies within-