... and I will raise her to the light.

Ana: The three letters poem.

it is the most feminine name ever

it begins with “A”

it ends with “a”

i can’t think of any better way to join them but a “n”

the result is this: Ana. (you can thrust me, I’m an engineer)

names with three letters are always the heaviest ones

if you include acronyms things get clearer: MIT, ITA, IRA

Ana, your name is the prettiest palindrome I have ever heard about

-&e-

ps.: wrote under effect of midazolam

Efluente

A arte é um efluente do artista.

A poesia é um efluente do poeta.

Mesmo que ainda muito nutritiva é preciso fazer lembrar que ela não é muito mais do que um efluente.

Se um nunca produziu a própria arte é porque nunca precisou e, portanto, as sobras lhe bastarão.

Gildenlöw's chorus-less brick

This blog is meant to be something personal and all the content was supposed be my own stuff. However, reader can indeed find here references to thirty-part stuff.

It is because there are pieces of art currently out of my reach in vertical terms, if you know what a mean. Therefore, I cannot help posting them here. I agree with them in every single allegory… even to the ones I may never understand.

This one is from the Swedish band Pan of Salvation. Lyrics by Daniel Gildenlöw. He is the master of overly simple lyrics… and, come on… writing simple is something tricky as fuck… it is something for the masters. Stupid ones like me will always sound complicated.

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication, said Da Vinci once.

And I can say it works from engineering design all the way to poetry.

Man, Daniel is good. I have to point his extraordinarily calibrated sense to use repetitive/recurrent statements and how well this works to pass on the compulsive nature of obsessive feelings and how, like some sort of pathological mantra, they monopolize our train of ideas.

Enjoy this chorus-less brick I believe to be among his masterpieces.

If you wait, lyrics by Daniel Gildenlöw

If you wait

If I could ask you to wait

I'd get back, somehow

To you

If I could ask you to wait

I'll bring myself

Home to you

I would walk on this road

Through mud, through grass, through dust, through rain

Whatever I find in my way

I'll power through

I'll power through

Home to you

If you wait

If I could ask you to wait

But I can't ask you to wait

Though it breaks me

Go

I must ask you to go

Go

I must ask you to go

Please go

(I must ask you to go)

and there's nothing freeing about that

"(...) without rules we quickly become slaves to our passions - and there's nothing freeing about that."

I've just copied this from the most recent Jordan Peterson's book. But this sentence in specific belongs to Norman Doidge, the forward writer.

This blog is all about it. Vain pain. Tameless obsessions. This is the me I am endeavoring to kill right now. Having no control sucks. There is nothing pretty about self destructive passions. Nothing pretty about living a Fenix eagle life style. I am tired of rising to the sun to then, enjoy the heat for a couple of instants until, out of the blue, things begin to collapse again. I feel life slipping trough my fingers like sand.

And as I cross these valleys in my sinusoidal mood the idea of death sounds so compelling. I have to tell you that whenever you have such intense mood swings like I do the idea of death just never leaves you. Even in my best days I kind of know sorrow will comeback and suicide will always be a option in the menu. I can no longer get blind by a current state of mind. Hope has become a much more complex feeling. Joy as well has become a much more complex feeling. I can feel at the same time enormous joy without feeling hope at all, and that is something I tought impossible.

How can one feel happiness even knowing depression is about to come at any moment? It can be tomorrow. It can be in five minutes or less. How can one not stop smiling even when suicide ideas accidentally pop into head. Well, that's why I consider it some sort of superpower... with questionable practical use, but still a superpower.

But I know it will still take a very long time for me to lose all my energy and win over these fantastic self-preservation reflexes hardwired in my brain. 

Maybe I am lucky enough to survive for a lifetime. To be honest I have no quantitative intuition about how long I will bare life. What I do know is that in one month or so I will be in hell for a couple of months. I can smell my mood collapsing and watching it before my eyes is just frustrating.

By the way... I don't think I get the idea of Eternal Return. Or maybe if I happen to get it I can manage to bare life... I have reasons to believe this idea has reversible cause and effect relation.

I am killing the poet who wrote this blog. Or at least I am going to beat him so much he won't dare to stand up in vain again. I am doing all in self defense. 

At least one of us will have to dye.

A pretty love story, to say the least (War Bride: "Japanese Bride in America" 1952 US Army; American Soldier Brings Wife Home from Japan)

I used to say science is pretty even though its job is insisting our idealizations are not free to go everywhere. It is unfortunate at constantly reminding us about the tyranny of laws of nature. Just like naivety science has the beauty of being faithful to a simple principle: Nature.

A love story does not need to be free under romantic premises. It can even enhance its beauty whenever under the tyranny of practicality: Real human beings in real life.

Truth can be prettier than anything else can if you dare to embrace it.

A pretty love story, to say the least.

the hawk #1 (her green pair of arguments)

Why would I give you another chance?

Yeah, I know, you had only one. Not that much. You have a point.

But you wasted it! What about the rest of the world? The remaining single ladies.

Nearly four billion of them had zero choice given by me.

Oh, yeah, I do have a point as well, as you can see.

I have to say these green eyes of yours are such a persuasive pair of arguments.

-&e-

The -Premature- End

"But you can't simple legislate a better world into existence" - Juno Mac

the gipsy #2

She is a Law of Nature.
Perhaps Newton's Fourth Law.
The science equivalent to Nietzsche's Salomé.
Some sort of """Principia Zaratustra""".
Yeah, I agree, that's a terrible name.
But you have to agree that it does handle the fucking message.

So, you've been told.
You better be careful if you're willing to take bed a fundament of nature.
But, if you dare to, be sure to make her cum.

-&e-

The -Premature- End

the gipsy #1

Her beauty has the debilitating taste of a leg shot.
Yes, you will survive.
At least for long enough to contemplate her body as she passes by you.
No. Not from your knees.
From the floor.

-&e-

The -Premature- End

sp#4

If you are willing to write about a specific affair
Resist the urge to play a song that reminds you about another specific affair
Be vigilant to your playlist for accidents may happen
You don’t want two different bleeding wounds bleeding simultaneously
You don’t want to remember two different times, different places or smells
You don’t want to end up with a poem to not be proud of.

-&e-

The -Premature- End

Sharp rambling about abstract lyrics writing

... there is this album called ‘The Art of Navigating by the Stars’, from ‘Sieges Even’, a German prog metal band.

I love it for what it makes me feel but I used to hate it for not been able to understand what they meant with their lyrics. They seemed to be nothing but random words.

That sucks because it brings to surface an old frustration with poetry. More exactly the hard times I had -and still have- trying to figure out what a certain analogy mean. Sometimes I felt tempted to believe they were just one of those traps when regular people want to sound sophisticated but end up just saying vague unusual words under the assumption that listeners will buy it without daring to dissect the phrases. Believe me when I say that poetry is especially annoying to deal with when you are an engineer willing to get into it and that would turn into a major catastrophe to realize that something supposed to be good poetry is nothing but a trap.

Only recently I found out something that sounded absurd at first glance just to reveal itself as genius a few seconds later into my train of thoughts: The fact that some musicians will write lyrics without something specific in mind. Yeah, they will listen to the melodies and write whatever come to their minds. This counterintuitive strategy allow music artists to create unique pieces of art. It is as if throwing accurate words or short phrases is a much more effective way to match the natural sensations attached to their meanings to the feelings brought by melody. Just like resonance amplifies oscillations when a given source and a given structure match their frequencies, sensations are enhanced when emotions sparked by the meanings in words match what melody insinuates.

That would be impossible (by ‘impossible’ I mean ‘very hard’) to articulate such effect under the tyranny of rhymes or, in worse cases, under the rules of a consistent meaningful monolog.

This is crazy, a little obvious too, but someone in position to judge me has to consider the child-like capabilities of engineer's brains to resolve art-related puzzles.

By the way, these German guys nailed it when they created The Art of Navigating by the Stars. The whole album is an abstract mess. A masterpiece of abstract lyrics writing, in my opinion.

That’s why, sometimes, I wish I was an artist. You know, people from tech fields have no idea feelings like catharsis exist and they have even less idea that such feelings are restricted to artists. As an engineer I am able to change people’s life in not more than homeopathic ways. People can’t even realize my work, whereas artists have the power to inebriate an entire crowd.

And this makes me feel jealous.

The -Premature- End

ps.: I just hope I didn’t get it wrong or this post would become a tragic anti-compliment to Sieges Even guys.

sp#3

i once met a man who, in a single life, have failed in both, love and war.

-&e-

The -Premature- End

sp#2

Is all fair in love and war?

Well, I think it depends on how much you can love and how much you can hate.

At least we have no such things like Geneva Conventions in love.

Perhaps because restricting love would be the ultimate cruelty itself.

-&e-

The -Premature- End

sp#1

There is just one single thing I am sure in life: I love her.

I'm not even that sure I will happen to dye eventually.

Dying? Ceasing to be? What a weird idea, don’t you think?

I mean, look at me, I’m so alive.

… I mean… look at her…

She’s is so pretty.

-&e-

The -Premature- End