In the rain – On a day were snow was forcasted but it hailed

I suppose it’s time for another episode of “in the rain”, more if so is taken into account how crappy was the last one.

I am laying on my bed, after a morning of reading and too much to eat. Christmas happened few days ago and it is official, they do not interest me anymore. It is nice to get presents but that’s where I put the full stop. However, these days there are too many posts on how ridiculous Christmas are and how no one enjoys it, how gathering with the family is so hard and depressing (that is not my problem at all), and so on and on and on, that really it became a true exercise of self-pity and pseudo-anarchism that I am not interested in the slightest. All I say is for none of the reasons above but for many others that require a painful introspection within the depth of my soul that I am not willing to do not now, not in the forseeable future, I don’t like Christmas all that much.
Apart from that, I study or write papers. It came to a point that I am starting to think if a masters is a good idea. If you have been following this blog, which I doubt taking into account the amount of comments and likes I get, you might have deduced that that is what it is in store for me and that I am planning to do it in the USA. Though I love learning, exams and deadlines literaly kill me. I am quite happy reading, thinking and researching, but time is needed for that or this beautiful thingy called time management which I absolute lack of and all I think is that I want to stop to be this kind of passive and get work active.
Yet, passive is my moto. Passivitation for me does not refer to sentence construction anymore but to my living performance, gosh I am passively lazy. So i guess that one way or another, this is still a post about self pity and pseudo-anarchism, ups!

Floure

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In the rain – that day when it did not rain but it was December

A long, long time ago (or so it seems) I decided that I would use the this category (in the rain) to talk about me, about my life, as a sort of diary. Then, experience proved that I have no such thing as an interesting life and so this is only bullshit.

Today is the end of the semester and in 2 days christmas. I am here, alone in the library checking my phone every two minutes so I do not miss the call of my friend who is somewhere battling with his own ideas, knowledge and language use to produce something remotely acceptable for her professor. Yeah, she is doing an exam. An hour has passed since I offered myself to wait for her till she’s finished so we can go have some cultural fun. So far, I have walked a good friend home, exchanged a couple of words with the loveliest lady at uni, stolen a promotional calendar of the 2015 which was free and sat down in this chair and in front of this uni computer to write this. See, very interesting indeed.

I was going to talk about how I am not feeling excited about the holidays and so on but the call has come, and I have to go.

Cheerio

Love and those things that only live in movies

This morning it struck me. I heard lots of times how unrealistic the love depicted in movies/shows or whatever animated platform is, how there is no such thing as the perfect man who understands you and knows everything you need, in the exact second you need it, the man who despite knowing that dirty little secret that is eating you inside out, still has your back and won’t ever leave you, the man who even though a long time ago was a playboy or a bad boy, that changed the moment he met you (apply these

we could all use a loyal friend

Credit: end post

to the female characterization). And I guess it is true, there is no such thing though I guess I am still looking for the closest thing to that. However, there is something else that is as unrealistic: loyal friendship.
As far as I remember I have been worried about other people’s looks and words directed towards me, it is so that I am now to asume that that is a fact about my personality. I look around, lets say to my friends, and I love them but it is nothing like those in the movies. I have no one to whom I am absolutely open. It is not like I don’t try or want to because I find myself blurting things I thought I would not say to no one yet I also do not tell the truth or say what is wrong when the questions are asked, so technically I am not 100% forward to none of my friends and certainly, when I am done I never ever pick up the phone and ring them, I simply do not do that.
By norm I don’t talk about people, my usual response to someone talking shit about others is a plain shrug, however there are glorious exceptions to this. Yet the thing is not what kind of behaviour I unconsciously tend to take but the fact that people talk about their friends to their backs. I’ve seen this among my lifelong group of friends, new friends, family members and their/our friends, and it keeps repeating and I don’t for a second thing that I lieva mong moraly corrupted people but that this is indeed something that everyone does.
And this little and very insecure voice inside me tells me over and over again: what happened to “I’ll love you NO MATTER WHAT”? What about the loyal, movie-like friendship?

Picture

I saw it, I cried

It came to me in a rush while I was sitting in a bus on my way to life. The bus crashing and an object of unknown origin perforated my lung. I could not breath but I still could feel my body elevating and falling hard somewhere else, bruising my ribs, and then at the sound of the bell, my head hit the ground and my consciousness left me scared and alone. Next thing, I was in unsufferable pain and doctors were unsure if I could make it.

And a tear crossed my sorrowful face, not for fear of death but for the fact that at 21 I was, indeed, dreaming of my dying.

Floure

I saw it, I swear I did

I was walking down the street and I saw it.

I saw the scattered pieces of a glass bottle, of most probably and I would bet on it, beer. I looked up and saw a jungle of hands and body parts crashing into someone else’s skin, bones and muscles. I believe there were mainly men, though I think I saw some tinted nails in blue and red, and I am not quite sure to whom the blonde, smooth ponytail belonged to. There were puddles and tiny drops of blood that stained a shirt, pants and too many hands. Someone’s sight was blinded crimson and a child had forever some deep velvet memories.

Or maybe, someone just dropped the bottle.

WordPress f***ing deleted this the first time I wrote it and so I lost it, and this is the second time I write it and is not half as good as the first #thankswordpress

Floure

Dante and Beatrice

Wrote this many, many years ago (I will try to cut short the cheseeness but I was just a poor excuse of an adolescence back then) yet it is still one of my favourite love story of all times – even though the reality is a bit creepy if decontextualized -. Hope you like it ūüôā

Night of the 31st December of whatever year you like: next year, past year, this year. A couple in a hill close to their city, look up to the sky where only bright stars witness their love. In his hands an instructive book of astrology. They laugh, giggle, hug, kiss and look up to the stars; to the beautiful and eternal stars. He took her there by surprise so they could welcome the new year together and alone.

Time passes by among endless conversations and cute kisses when all of sudden, he asks her:

– Do you know Dante and Beatrice story?

РOf course Рshe replies with a sassy grin РBeatrice was, so to speak, his muse. He fell in love with her as fast as he saw her though she was never his. They never shared a kiss, not a touch of their skin; only quick glances over the distance. How romantic!

– No baby, the true story

РThe true story? Tell me! Р and she snugles into his chest, his sweet breathing singing the perfect melody for the night

РNo, Dante himself will tell you Рhe clears his throat before faking the cracky voice of an old gentleman and she laughs at his sillyness.

<<The rider of death swept over the fields of my life without contemplation. He cut, pulled and destroyed, one by one, every flower of my ill garden. But after days and days of anguish, of being pulled to the floor by the sorrow of my condition, I finally found the strength of my mournful hands, got up and walked. I saw abysses sinking into darkness and evil souls wandering in dreams. Convicted fighting warriors of light who had lost their last battle in the cave of the angry come into sight. In the distance, sharp cries could be heard, slowly approaching and becoming stronger. Ghost of every kind of men diverted themselves creating vortices of pain, the kind of pain that disturbes the most horrible mind.

In this blind darkness, shadows walk or levitate on cries recorded on a eternal vinyl repeated into oblivion.  The tide sways the silenced hearts , silenced and drowned in the deepest misery. I wander, alone and without destination, taken prisioner within the walls of the flaming Hell, red dungeon of uninterrupted longings.

I do not know how long i have¬†been here, lifeless. I find no way, no river to flow, not even a light rain to hide my tears. I arrived here as exiled poet, as an idea that flies from a dry pen and commits suicide on a paper. I, the creator of divine comedy, pleading lover of my angelic lady, lover of my muse¬†who inspired sweet scented verses, lady that touched my heart with just one anxious¬†look.¬†I would like to devote more sweet and delicate words to my dear, my sole reason for existence but I can not …NO! Time loses its name, forgetfulness comes to life, body and essence, stealing¬†my soul and killing my memories without mercy or remorse, and she is no more now than a mimic of my lost imagination; I have lost her.

All that feeds my hope is to find you, keep the dream that one day you will be here , you’ll¬†come to me, that everything that flees my mind today as migratory birds return and at last¬†this senselesss¬†wandering¬†will have some meaning. What am I saying? My crazy desperation¬†deprives me of any kind of logic. You, beautiful cherub could never¬†be here, for your soul¬†embodies the highest form of purity, but still …¬†doubt does not leave me. What if I saw you¬†and my mind, now my enemy, betrayed me and pushed you away? If this is so, there would be no forgiveness for me or why I shall continue.

Damn madness that leads me down a storm of jagged thoughts that move in circles and make me dizzy!

A silhouette of bright light appears before me. Her sweetish gaze envelops me as it did the once sacred temple exit. It was long ago but I still remember when we invaded the silences with words, when we walked together a thousand metres away. Oh, yes, then we met and I now hardly recognize you because my life is a broken mirror and does not reflect anymore. Under your step life is created . Your smile creates cherry. Your look, a crazy lovers heartfelt verses. Your breath, the sky. How different now presents itself before me this hell! Tell me, who are you that your presence becomes this cold place the most perfect place in paradise?

Your eyes light up, shine, shouts of joy and yet you do not know how to talk to me. Death¬†took us away and my life was a perpetuate torture, a deep well that I never knew out, I¬†could not forget you.¬†You approach with eager arms, I depart with childlike awe. Your lips are broken lines but¬†there’s no sound or response. With an impulse i throw myself to you, I feel your breath, I¬†melt in your mouth, it all makes sense in paradise. Finally in this dark cavern I see the sun.¬†Happiness leads a remembrance to me, is so close : I LOVE YOU!>>

– I love you too

In the rain in a non-rainning-should-be-rainning day

Hiya there!

I think I ought some words as to why I have neglected this blog in the last days-weeks, whatever, I do not know how long I’ve been away. But as I’m in a place where I certainly should not be writing but it is not like a have anything better to do, I think of a good excuse and my mind keeps thinking: “Well, actually, it aaaaall comes down to > Life.is.crazy.”. So there it is, my magnificient explanation/excuse: LIFE.IS.CRAZY.

Here, my dayly duties:

– Class

– Internship

– Applications

– Life

-Reading (as in class reading, which really is Frankestein and Sense and Sensibility, plus multiple articles on what they were high on at the moment of this amazing productions,¬†but it is still a requirement of the course’s program, not me just deciding it’s the perfect time to read classics, just saying)

– Exams (like every week, proper exams, to study for and yeeah, you know how it works)

– Dissertation

Now, you probably dare tell me that I am too much of a weenie and that I complain too much and I am not saying that these are the toughest things to be doing, but they are time consuming! And exams, that is sucking my life out as a freaking dementor and, if any of my readers is from the states, gooosh, it’s really hard to apply for uni over there!! Too many requirements!

Well that’s it, thank you for understanding and thank you for listening me moaning on and on, and I say “and on” because this is the situation at least until may/june that I freaking graduate and I am temporarily free.

Keep reading and living lovelies,