segunda-feira, 8 de junho de 2009
terça-feira, 7 de abril de 2009
sábado, 28 de março de 2009
I like movies where day-to-day life details are given. Waking up, for instance: the beginning silence, looking out the window to see how the weather looks like, getting up and preparing yourself for the day. Taking a shower, the sound of the water running. Just this act makes you expect what of great is coming next. And the surrounding silence is a big factor. It comes accross with yourself, with your own normal life, which you end up believing can be considered a script for a movie.
I'm sitting in front of my computer and listening to the rythm of my own breathing. Due to a cold, my nose is not flowing properly and as it is so late, my breathing is the only sound I hear with the typing of my words. I am tired and try to keep myself awake to write a decent text. Now that I've started, better to write something worth. How do I know something's worth? Someone asked me the same question a couple of days ago. Of course I can't answer that. I told him, well, write exactly what is describing your acts and thoughts. What catches the public is their identification with your words. Very probably there is someone who felt the exact same way.
My problem with writing is that I always get to the point where my inspiration fails. It isn't even failing, as this means a momentaneous weakness, but rather a disconnecting. So normally I delete the whole text and decide to try another time. What will I write about now?
On the wall in front of me, there is a small picture of a old woman inside an old airplaine. She has one of these old pilot glasses, which look like two bottle bottoms, in her eyes, and she looks very brave, almost as saying "I'll get this thing to fly and I'll get very far". It's a postcard I found in a store. The proud look of the old woman enchanted me, so I took it with me home.
Above it , there is another picture of a ballarina looking at her skirt. No face is drawed, just a profile image.The text says "Lulu. Drei Schritte bis zum Fenster". Does she carry any simbolism? Maybe disappontment, maybe's she's reflecting if she really likes dancing. Or maybe she just doesn't like her yellow skirt. She is barefoot,which can mean she usually does not dance.
Nothing is great, nothing is surprising. Guess I need to give it all a thought.
Good night.
I'm sitting in front of my computer and listening to the rythm of my own breathing. Due to a cold, my nose is not flowing properly and as it is so late, my breathing is the only sound I hear with the typing of my words. I am tired and try to keep myself awake to write a decent text. Now that I've started, better to write something worth. How do I know something's worth? Someone asked me the same question a couple of days ago. Of course I can't answer that. I told him, well, write exactly what is describing your acts and thoughts. What catches the public is their identification with your words. Very probably there is someone who felt the exact same way.
My problem with writing is that I always get to the point where my inspiration fails. It isn't even failing, as this means a momentaneous weakness, but rather a disconnecting. So normally I delete the whole text and decide to try another time. What will I write about now?
On the wall in front of me, there is a small picture of a old woman inside an old airplaine. She has one of these old pilot glasses, which look like two bottle bottoms, in her eyes, and she looks very brave, almost as saying "I'll get this thing to fly and I'll get very far". It's a postcard I found in a store. The proud look of the old woman enchanted me, so I took it with me home.
Above it , there is another picture of a ballarina looking at her skirt. No face is drawed, just a profile image.The text says "Lulu. Drei Schritte bis zum Fenster". Does she carry any simbolism? Maybe disappontment, maybe's she's reflecting if she really likes dancing. Or maybe she just doesn't like her yellow skirt. She is barefoot,which can mean she usually does not dance.
Nothing is great, nothing is surprising. Guess I need to give it all a thought.
Good night.
segunda-feira, 16 de março de 2009
segunda-feira, 23 de fevereiro de 2009
Untitled ou dance dance dance
A música está demasiado alta, mas quero que ensurdeça os pensamentos. O telefone toca, mas não me apetece atender. Como fiquei assim? Estou a precisar de férias, simplesmente. De férias e de sol. Apetece-me pegar nas minhas poupanças e atirar os melhores livros que tenho para dentro de uma mochila e viajar pelo mundo. Quero fazê-lo antes de ser demasiado tarde. Não quero pensar no futuro nas coisas que não fiz. Tudo tem o seu tempo e não pode ser perdido.
O sol demora a aparecer, a neve parece que quer ficar na cidade por mais uns tempos embora já não seja benvida pela maior parte de nós. As mãos estão vermelhas e geladas, o gorro e o capucho protegem as orelhas do frio e dos flocos e os pés ensopados...Fui mesmo assim cortar o cabelo porque precisava que me tirassem um peso de cima - cortaram-no muito curto, mas em vez de sentir a constante vontade de me olhar no espelho e fazê-lo parecer mais bonito, contentei-me. Não importa a figura.
A música continua alta, e já estou solta o suficiente para abanar a cabeça e o pouco cabelo que tenho...vá, nãoestá tão curto. Um amigo diria que voltei a ser a Heidi.
O Miguel está na cozinha a fazer um jantar. No meio das entrevistas para arranjar o quarto membro para o apartamento, o português foi o melhor achado. Não por cozinhar bem e ser creativo, mas porque é uma pessoa especial. Filmei-o com a minha câmara para que possamos ver as imagens daqui a uns anos e lembrarmo-nos do que ele é agora. Temos boas conversas sem motivo, sempre, mas ultimamente ouço mais as histórias que ele me conta e percebo muito bem quando ele tenta explicar coisas pouco claras. Não tenho muito para dizer, mas ouço com prazer.
Volta sol, que a gente gosta de tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii :)
sexta-feira, 21 de novembro de 2008
segunda-feira, 10 de novembro de 2008
Subscrever:
Mensagens (Atom)
