Das Rote pferd

I'm an animator, the most stupid fun depressing excitating regressive job I ever did, another six months to go, is like signin up for the army, I'll never do it again.
Lukily my friend kevin, a french guy who works at the beach takes me out whit his car to see the world and get in contact with the french youth.
Only bothering feeling is that all the man in cote d azure are bisex and wont accept a simple friendship, I hope they will because they are not getting any.
Last cabaret show I received the laudest applaus after dieing in rallenty, great.
Im getting really fast in switching lenguages and translating, I'm improving my french and keep talking daily in german.
I didn't know that 15 years old girls could get so hot, have to put the brakes, (I'm not allowed).............

Throu me a stone, I´ll paint it blue and red..

Do you love what I say ?
or what I do.
how I look like?
or how I´m.

Frustration attacked last night, and the one before......she won´t come closer.

The girls I like are often in love whit someone else, or they are trying to mantain a long term relationship, of course they like me, or I wouldn´t even try.....

What mazes me Is: how can they like anyone better than me?

My old mean boss says there are two types of girls:
the ones who want it always in, and the one who´d never have it out....

But this reduces too much the field and wouldn´t explain my situation.

But Gianca, a good friend of mine have a real dicotonomy and says there are two types of girls:

the ones who fucks and the ones who don´t.

The ones who like to fuck can have many lovers at once and live a man for another which sperm tastes better (I love you Gianca...).

Gianca takes his lovers as teachers, I rather like to be the teacher, maybe that´s a problem.

I think any girl can float between the two fases in different times, or stuggel between the two.
I see that many are convinced (I don´t know wheter by theyr feelings or beliefs) that true love is focalized on only one person.

I don´t know, in a group of people there is always only a girl that I like best, but really I dream and suffer on all of them ( if they are pretty enough) and when I move somewhere else whit other people my thoughts and passions comes along in the moment.

I´d take as example the countryside, when you live in a small society you may fall in love really whit anyone, from the only pretty girl in the village to the uglier one whit bigger boobs, or even a real cow......

Moving at twenty whit your blonde girlfriend to the city, may put your true love in danger.

Sometimes, walking in the city I like to think on all of them, circling in my head as stars moons and planets, whit different brightness and gravities, some far away and some, right before my eyes.

Redoundant Echoes

Yesterday I was at the call center.
I was talking whit some dude in england when a malfunction in the line occurred and i could hear my own voice speaking, curious and vain as I´m, I started listening at it while the survey litany went automatically out of my mouth.
It was so beautiful and empty, me talking senseless words and listening my electronified echo, the guy enlisting the most popular videogames on XBOX and my hand writing down all he said the same as one hundred previous times. At the end I thought... Maybe if i listen at what I say whenever i speak, only pure words would come out ,not filtered by any kind of thought.
My attention is too much on reactions.
Listening is wiser as speaking, and now I understand why.

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.