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-

The question is not whether the sea can fit into our heads, the question is whether we can become the sea.





This recalls me and explain a story that Glucksmann quotes at the end of one of his last articles, it's about early cristians (I'd appreciate if someone could recognise it and give me the source):

A monk goes to his master and asks: master, I dedicate myself to prayers and practice contemplation every day, but yet I feel as it is not enough, what else can I do to serve my God?
The master turns staring at him and lifts his open hands toward the sky, each finger is now burning like a torch , the Master asks:
What if we could all become fire?

After a couple of years of wondering around I´m starting to feel the pleasures of stability.

In wich way?

Well I´m making friends.

A city it´s a bit like a boat and a bit like a port.
A boat because you feel pleasurably stuck on it.

A port because people comes and goes, but keep coming back decently in time.

and then they are still your friends

Some time when I write something like this I ask myself wheter I´ve already read it somewhere.

Good
Praud
Fearfull
fire lit
little
God
me

Yesterday concentrating on the question -can we be free?- I lookeed for a speech from Jiddu krishnamurti that would deal with a similar question, I found it, and his words concentrated on a similar question:

can our mind be free of all time spanned conditionings?

for J. Krishnamurti wasn´t a question of getting rid of the entire mind, but cleansing it from ineffective parts, as called conditionings. By constant watching of our most automatic response we are able to deal whit this parts.

he was stimulating us to go into that question, using words as human condition and human conditioning.

How we evolved thousand of years of time spanned brain, and if we could at last be able to stick all this material out of our heads.

He called -to really think about it- not as conforming to another line of thoughts, but really to one selves sake.

The most recurrent question of JK is -what does it mean..........?-

he says to observe problems, as they were jewels.
To observe for some oriental philosophies it´s everything.

The world of forms has a depth that we can reach only trough observation, we shall listen to images, and understand them in each tiny perceivable particoular.

than, we can go beyond.

Looking back at what I write, I see that sometimes I distill vanity, like right now.
This thought is so like a trap, a redoundant wall, a white spot, a tower.
Shall I be sorry and create another circle, son of the first.
To which extent can I trust my mind ?
Shall I abandon her?
What do you think?
Some people says that Gods are little childs.
I say that my mind is a bitch.
Really, is there another way?
better
deeper
truer
than thinking?
Many people say yes.
many enlightened say yes.
Holy people say yes
Poor people say yes
Rich people say yes
And yet everybody acts the contrary.
Is Faith a synonim for madness
Or both eat the reason?
Is everybody fighting back?
M I ?
Are we all peraphs sharing the same point: nazis,soccer players, musicians,muslims, jewish, christians,Bhuddists,Postmans, and tour operator, seller, bureocracy, Terapist and sociologist.
I don´t believe that and yet is possible.
I repeat is this Mind a good tool?

Please answer......

Night fight




Lets go to sleep man,

aaaall right

you´ve got german lesson tomorrow, cannot keep oversleeping,
the "Two Marias" will hate you for this.

Right.... off I go.

Night...........you lazy buttoc

Gd´night.....let see you zomb trough those 4 hrs in the morning.

End of the week suggestion.

Have you ever looked up on wikipedia the word -time-?

Man, lately I´ve been reading lots on my computer, not just documents but also books.
It´s just wierd finding myself bended over my chair holding my huge monitor like the sides of a book.
I mean holding a book is mainly a practical reason, but than you discover that becomes bodylanguage, physical expression of the interest that written words can give.

How words feed soul.

A portable touchscreen notebook that´s what I´d like.

Today I´ve had breakfast at 4pm and than I was back to bed till 7.
I´ve fried some potatoes, and now I´ll frie a couple of eggs.
Done.
Altough I´m often concentrated on high speculations about lenguages, science, history, and philosophy a side of me is highly unrealistic.
Anytime that I get rained on while going to work I cannot help thinking that gods are punishing me or something. I also have a particular strong feeling of a concrete karma when I´m driving a bicicle or a car, a red lamplight it´s not only a stop sign, but always a warning that I´m beeing a mad driver, the same when I´m on life threatening moments on my bicycle (once a day) while I´m going to work It´s hard not to think about the hand of God in those moments.

This line came to me a night while quite high from a smoke, on my bicicle back from work beeing rained on and with blows of wind stopping me writing.

God is reading my mind, he just realizes a moment too late.

This is what I cal free will.

And that is how we were reasoning before atheism was invented and we were so close to nature.

Back to blog

Got back the PC, nice.
Last days wihtout PC I´ve been doing stuff.
We´ve got a Chef from Chile host of a girl that lives in my whonung.
Well, Cooks are Mad and Vain, but the guy goes farther than any I´ve known. and yes I like him he´s got the touch.
Still, I could insult him endlessly.
Anyway last day at work a girl that I know comes at the bar and we start talking.
She speaks perfect Italian with no signs of a German accent, she studies it since two years and have been in Italiy for five months, she doesn´t mess up a single R, impressive.
Well, I find out for the first time that she´s not only cute and half indonesian, but she does quite interesting stuff.
Well I was working whit this guy that just came back from Etiopia, and after half an hour talking I realized that he was her boyfriend!
At that point I switched slightly from the ""talkative attentive hidden vampire mode"
to the "talkative attentive destroy and be nice to the couple mode".

The emergency procedure followed :

Decrease gradually conversation with her till -22% on the original amount.
Increase conversation with him of +11% on the original amount
Allow the couple to get their brief intimacies
Be awfully nice to him
Don´t be too nice to her

send to her behind his back all the following subliminal messages:

I´m cooler than your boyfriend
I´m crazier than your boyfriend
I´m prettier than your boyfriend
I´m more sensitive and sexier than your boyfriend

Vorsicht!

If the stated procedure fails bound your emotions not to get involved.

Sunday sees Sunday

I did today sow the light of the morn, coming home after work at 8 am, luckily I missed the rest of this dull sunday in dreamless sleep.
At work was fun, the club was packed, pretty people, cool house music and we were all the time dancing and smoking weed behind the Bar.
A really enjoy all this, but as I was working there was a voice that said:

yes, do play with everybody else, but don´t get identified with games.

As soon as I moved out in the light of the morning, everything disappeared.
Sometimes I have some thoughts, and they are not wierd speculations, they are messages.
It´s like an emotional tension that I always kept with me suddenly breaks and the message it´s: set back, relax, do what you are doing, it´s not important, enjoy, you have no obligations toward anyone, no pressure to take up anything, look and listen.

This kind of thoughts came within a total different context

The main trend last night was:

"Young and Restless"

As printed on the backside of a flyer

And When I read it first I thought: ho god that´s me!
there must be my picture on the other side!
And than I thought, shit this is how the entertainment industry is getting closer to their targets, and I´m part of both, industry and fruitor as many other people is.
Is it bad? Is it good?
I give it a maybe.

Is it important?
I give it a depends
The fact is that feeling this calming thoughts arising I felt sincerely mature, much more mature than all my super intellectualizations over space and time.

Ok I believed I had to work tonight, I showed up and they said my shift is in exactly one week, cycling on the way home i thought back a year ago, when I was in France and I had a Car........

I wanted to learn a lenguage and I choosed french, harder than spanish and easier than German I thought back than.

It was a Renault 5 just one year older than I was.
It had no back seats because was a used company car, in france they are often sold to private owners.
I often slept in it laying diagonally with the head in the back corner.
she was fast and in the countryside was a mean of independence.
I was doing woofing (willing voluntary on organic farms(an illegal one).
In the first farm I was working I had a payed job three days a week in a building site, so I could allow myself to buy and mantain this car which was abandoned a few months before by an australian surfer (I believe a strain of his soul was trapped in the machine).
My first car long distance trip was four hundred kilometers with a german Girl (johanna I think was her name) from Montesquieu to Carcassonne and than Collioure, an idilliac old city on the sea extremely popoular between british tourists (luckily was late september and wasn´t so crouded anymore).
I was such a mad driver, and she probably saved my life teaching me how to drive on a highway (with the german approach).
Well the Car had a certain weight on my personality it gave me problems but also endless pride.
Once I had to drive this art collector trough Paris, and there I had the most important and pleasant encounter ever, and from then on I consider myself a Paris proofed driver (altough I still have troubles parking sideways).
The car also allowed me to carry much more stuff than a regoular traveler would have, this ended up beeing a limitation.
A sunday afternoon in mid-january I was trown out from a third farm.
On monday after a cold night in my trunk with not one cent left, my bank card lost,
I had to sell my car for 150 bucks to the only retailer in france open on festivity.

R5
She was gone as it came
trust worthy as I knew her first
I was rich on my two feets
With an eclair in my mouth
The trunk emptied in my backpack.
Waiting for the next train.

Time is Chemistry.

All structures are unstable.
In one of his speeches Eckhart Tolle tells about his encounter with the Malibu´ Sutra: he was in Los Angeles walking in a periferical area, when he entered an abandoned house that burned down years before.
Between the remaining walls grew with time a beautiful wild garden, startled by this beauty eckhart turns and read this warning sign:

Warning! All structures are unstable.

he names it the Malibu´ Sutra

That was indeed the nature of all elements.

When we look at time we are looking at transformation.

An old apple is not old, is simply rotting down becoming something else.

Our body grows and transforms, it gain and loses capacities, because of his unstable nature.
Elder people is less capable of retain and assimilate water in their skin, their system will never be new and it needs more and more care in order to keep a minimum functionality.

Looking at a single organism it´s easy to see what time has done to that organism, but when your attention focuses over an entire environment it´s less easy to see the action of time.

When you look at nature there is a cyclical order of transformation.
A forest will not grow old and dye, a tree will, but the environment renovates and feeds itself.
It may all burn down with a vulcanic eruption, blown by an atom bomb.
But as Michael Chricton writes in The Lost World (not sure which book): may atomic war erase humanity and most of earthly life, nature will spring again.

A famous story in support of this argument is the one of the scientific team that protected by anti radioactive gear visits an island in the pacific ocean.
The sole is completely vetrified by atomical testing.
The equipe wants to verify if any living organism has survived and not long after they set up some traps for small sized creatures, they start capturing lots of big fat rats.

The self-destructive potencial of humanity it´s directly proportional to his dependency from environment, but a single tiny seed can outstand the destructive power of a thousand H bombs (yes, yes Ganja seeds also).

What are we compared to the creative power of mother earth and the universe?

we are forms.

The matter that makes our bodyes has always been on earth.
You are a form in trasformation, you have never been created and you will never be destroyed, what we are is not contingent, is there, unseparable and necessary as everything else exists.

If you are scared about your consciousness dying than ask yourself wether you are your consciousness or not.

Spiritual teachers say no you are not your thoughts,

I haven´t yet myself given an answer to this.