eh que eu tou aki de boa, lendo meu livrinho pokect do Buko, escutando uma otima musica, bebendo meu mais maravilhoso vinho, fumando um cigarrinho aqui...outro ali... e tou pensando que a Dona Morte, deve estar acordando agora puta comigo, apontando seu lápis, e apagando seu caderninho, pra adiantar a minha data... e pensando que garoto estúpido, esses garotos são muito estúpidos, ficam aih na madrugada sendo pseudo-cults, aspirantes a babacas, e daqui a pouquinho quando me virem vão cair de joelhos chorando como bebês e implorando, "nãão, nããão, pelo amor de Deus só mais 5 anos..." mas de que deus mesmo estã falando ? Nem eles mesmo sabem, estão tds bêbados hj em dia. Enfim...

Eu sempre pensei isso.

"O mais triste é que a única coisa que se pode fazer durante oito horas por dia é trabalhar." Faulkner

Obrigado ao leitor anônimo...

as coisas que eu escrevo aqui, só fazem sentido pra mim mesmo. e eu me pergunto se o que eu escrevo agora e acho que são totalmente essenciais, se eu as julgarei mais ridículas impossíveis, como as coisas que eu escrevi ah 3 ou 4 anos. Eu escrevo aqui apenas trechos de pensamentos inteiros que passei dias, ou meses degustando. Por exemplo a frase "Aqui é o Alaska." Putz... não consigo descrever com palavras o que ela significa para mim.

"McCandless esquecia convenientemente que o próprio London passara apenas um inverno no Norte e que se suicidara em sua fazenda da Califórnia aos quarenta anos, bêbado delirante, obeso e patético..." Into The Wild, pág. 55

metallica, novamente.

"Stiffened wounds test their pride" "Men of five, still alive..." "Crack of dawn, all is gone, except the will to be." eu não esqueci este blog.

Tilly and the Wall - Nights of the Living Dead

Oh the high school kids they're all fucked up Touching each other, oh my god Yeah and forty ounces was never enough We want to pass out in your yard We want to pass out Dressing in drag your best friend's clothes While boys kissed boys in hotel rooms Oh and just when we thought we were no longer lost They kicked us out into the dirty streets of Atlanta So it's Friday night down on North Avenue Where gas station parking lot prostitutes Tried to fix their hair in our rearview mirrors You know we're just trying to get to the club and shake our asses A caravan of kids, some big old mess On an old wooden dock, oh we're bored to death We've got a bottle of wine, a fresh pack of smokes We're going to end up screaming about some midnight garage sale So god, put down your gun, can't you see we're dead? God, put down your hand, we're not listening Oh, the microphone cut off so we're screaming at the top of our lungs You are born so fresh, a golden prize Until you scrape that knee and quickly realize That you're lost in a fog on your way to death Oh a thick black line, a thick black line So you better speak up, better raise that voice Come on, scream loud all you girls and boys Let's get wild, wild, wild, let's rejoice Come on, come on I want to hear that fucking noise Oh the push and pull of everything Oh this nightmare of electricity We are the living dead, yeah the living dead That's the way it is That's the way it's always been Oh that snake slithered past my house today Oh I heard he caught you on a dark highway No the clouds didn't part they just grew into a storm I can still hear the sound of the rolling thunder (thunder!) God, put down your gun, can't you see we're dead? God, put down your hand, we're not listening God, put down your gun, can't you see we're dead? I said, god, put down your hand, we're not listening Oh, we never were I want to fuck it up I want to fuck it up I want to fuck it up I want to fuck it up I want to fuck it up I want to fuck it up I want to fuck it up I want to fuck it up And I feel so alive And I feel so alive And I feel so alive And I feel so alive And I feel so alive And I feel so alive And I feel so alive And I feel so alive And I feel! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cq7-FMEbWOo