Roundabout

Patience, perseverance, discipline, work ethics, high endurance to boredom, self-motivation, larger than life expectations and regular pot income.
These are some of the most needed requisites for the "modern successful individual" recipe!
Ok, nothing new here! The thing is: you can read this stuff in any highway fuel station (right below the Dalai Lama 234 th edition of some other books that a more market oriented monk wrote a few years ago).
This raises a quite frightening question: If every doubt-ridden, nirvanesque-like writer or guru-wannabe is getting his books on these academy acclaimed culture selling points (keep in mind that we're still in the fuel station) this can only mean, to a certain extent, that, everybody knows by now, what they lack to become actual self motivated, pro-active successful entrepreneurs!

Isn't that fantastic?
Everybody knows what's missing (me included) and still... well you know the rest.

I am missing something here??

I took a fuckin' degree so i wouldn't have to deal with this shit!
Where's the good stuff? the gym-membership (this one's to you cus'), the paid hotel weekends, the career natural evolution, the income raises? Where's all that?
Where's the good life that Kayne West keeps annoying me about.: this one's new: hip stars that gave the hop to stardom... does this have anything to do with the music? I guess not!
It just doesn't move me. On my part, I don't intend on getting rich or die trying (pun intended) just to smack my 1000 euro silicone bitches pairs of tits in your face just to let you know what you didn't accomplish...
I keep wondering where did I zig instead of zagging....

I know that you know that everybody knows what to do, but the "why don't we do it" million dollar question is starting to keep me awake more than I usually allow.

I'm getting more and more troubled with this.

Two sides and one ending (rear one, I presume)

Dear scavengers,
Having found myself on the wrong end of the payment chain (another time, which is a one-time-too-many), I am now officially pissed-off beyond recognition with the boss-kind pseudo-human dudes out there.
You guys SUCK BIG TIME!!!!

Another thing.... I recently saw a raw-pearl of domestic consumption amateur porn that involves two charming ladies and a receptacle misleadingly called "cup" engaging in a series of intimal activities that outreach my ever-limited descriptive ability. I urge you all to go www and find this for yourselves.
(Disclaimer: the aforementioned video itself is gross beyond belief and it takes some stomach to actually watch it from start to finish.. be warned: It almost made me fuckin' throw up (Just for the sake of it.. I didn't see it from start to finish))
Again I was surprised not by the video itself, but by the hilarious hype that came with it: Videos with the reactions of dudes and dudettes, all races and kinds, to the actual stuff.
And these videos ARE THE SHIT!!! (this should be interpreted in a ambivalent sense: both metaphorically and literally)
I don't have the time to presently elaborate on this phenom, but, dear time-wasting-friends, bear in mind that the 21th century Homo sapiens mediaticus can and will turn whatever lump of nothingness into a mainstream of success! AND THIS IS THE LIVING PROOF OF IT!!!
I finally see the revolution coming (I am not tripping here, seriously), and most definitively IT WILL BE TELEVISED.
By the way, does "Hail to the thief" and "OK computer" ring a bell here?
Hail to the you-know-who-heads for corroding the first slab of the ever-dumber consumer and ever-richer media controllers.
It's all for now!
Over and out!

Pink magazine

During a painful drive between olive orchards (this is in fact True), I noticed a fantastic publication lied forgotten in the backseat of the vehicle: one of those magazines that compile huge arrays of bullshit articles about the glitz, the famous, the good-looking..... you know the deal, for sure. And what amazes me the most is that they're able to do it and fill 100+ pages WEEKLY!!
Yours truly is not by any mean a famous dude. Some friends do weave some caring love for me while others would party their ass off if they knew I fuck up or worse. Ok, again, nothing new here: this is life at its simplest form of reality - no one will ever be able to gather unanimous caring love feelings from all third parties they meet.
Getting back to the magazine subject, I was appalled by the senseless heap of crap that was (badly) written in those one-on, one-off pages.
I sincerely felt that I had much more right to be on those pages!
At this point you might even think that I'm hiding my jet-set-wannabe-status with a pretense pseudo-whatever angry attitude... If that's the case, please do, be my guest! I couldn't care less and I won't sue your ass.... the worst that can happen is that I won't publish your post. But I truly think that both of us can get along and live merrily with our different opinions.
By the way, this world is already full-packed with wannabes, and as a matter of fact, most people are wannabes and curiously even more people deny it.
C´mon dudes and dudettes, I'm not completely delirious.... So what if John Doe no.1 dates Miss Whoever Johnston ....
Is that a plausible reason that this pompous ass should waste so much time of my life? I think not.
Stop and think for a moment: How much do you really care who am I dating? Who am I seeing, and ultimately, screwing? What do you care about my clothing habits?
..... got the picture??
Is there such an urge to self-alienation? Is my life such a bore that I need to scavenge other ones to get a hard-on and a happy grin on my face..
If this is true, then something is very very wrong here!!!
(I'm not being extremist.. I'm just illustrating what you already know)
I'll now change my argumentation to other latitudes and briefly turn my tree-hugger mode "on" and tell you about the paper, the inks, the trees, the waste that adds to the visual pollution that these worship-magazines so blatantly screw into our eyes and other improper human cavities)
But like a coin, every story is cheap... ooops, I mean every story has two sides:
Since Dove started showing half-naked normal women in their publicity stunts, I was immediately staggered with the thought that the golden age of huge breasted, slim waisted, sexy thighed era could well be endangered. I even had a vision of a world where the aforementioned icons were pursued and hunted by a society of Laurels and Hardys where mirrors had been abolished and sex was no longer a pleasant thing to even think about.
Thankfully, both Dove and the hellbent post-modern archetypal woman that can raise dead men with one topless tit, have their market-share, so I called it a day in this facet of the plot.
I got back to my safe harbor and started debating about the true meaning of this god-ridden magazines.
Not having spend much more time that it takes to pick your nose when no one's watching, my conclusion was: being a professional cynical individual.... well, or at least trying to, I would tend to use those rose-colored magazines to update my gossip intel to the fullest, and then, use it carelessly in a frivolous conversation environment, pretending to have known it for ages thus increasing my cool-factor one inch in the most obnoxious way possible.

Either way, and although I read them when I can, I still hate those fucking magazines.

bottled can

Once upon a time there was a canister of sodium cloret sitting lonely inside a damp and dusty closet...
The lil'can (just to spare a few typing distresses) lived his long 6 hour days craving for company...
The opaque environment didn't help either, Lil'can would often spare much of the dark hours fantasizing about the lucky spice recipients, stuck to the wall, always looking from above, oftenly given a much larger attention span.
ok nothing new here... the numerous average John Does don't usually surpass this tiny constraint in their earthly presence. But the can couldn't care less about those humanly habits..
Since its birth to its demise. It existed solely to be kept inside a sun ridden enclosure. And most of all, to keep other substances in such punishment.
The sodium cloret was lil'can's captive. And as sodium cloret, so other substances detention were now a part of Lil'can memory and existence.
It was definitively not an enjoyable "raison d'étre" !
Having to bear this daily carnage, Lil'can noticed that if enough humidity was let through into his gut, the powdered prisoner would react to moist and would assume a tighter and lumpier appearance. Lil'can assumed that it was a very understandable collective effect. When faced with genocide by drowning, boiling, grilling, and most cruel of all, frying. It was more than natural that a "let's go out with a Bang!" or "If one of us must go, then will go all at once" kind of attitude would blossom from that context.
The can kept using its time elaborating his highly complex conceptions of destiny and faith. One day the can started to express that enigma to a powdered garlic victim. Lil'can talked endlessly ... but the grinded garlic was still new in his captivity, therefore in the peak of denial stage. It was simply too much to bear: Beside waiting for certain death inside a tight can, he'd be punished unmercifully while at it . It was sheer psychological torture. For the garlic splinters that was Guantanamo-closet.
However, and as clear as it might seem, a cannister could never hear the powdered prisoners answer. The problem with powder is that each tiny little unit of the bunch, has a voice of its own.
You can imagine the racket of a million grains of dusted curry screaming at the same time.
So, as the moist started to settle in, the voice got clearer and when lil'can could almost understand an intelligible voicing, someone would open the can and, according to the social degree of perfection of the substance, a huge object would come from the sky and batter the lumps to powder status. It was an outrage at first, but then Lil'can started noticing that they would go back at it with added strength, especially in the rain season.
One day, after a long inactive period of time, one brownsugar lump assumed unprecedented structure. Lil'can knew that something above life itself would unravel before his very lid.
In retrospective, the can thought about the endless dark closet days that would just be swept away in a few more time units...
Finally the lump was complete: a serious coherent social stability was achieved. Perfection at hand.... indescribable.
Of a sudden, the lump started moaning as a whole. Lil'can felt he was viewing nirvana in real time... He could finally understand something, the moans and groans seemed to mention something about the human family .....
Something like: "I'll get them so much cholesterol in those fucking veins, you'll be looking like a open-air sewer in Siberia!!!"

1st day of August

It's the first day of August, it's not boiling hot as it should be, but nevertheless its hot anyway.
Slim hopes of summer vacations are nowhere to be seen. Expectations of beach comprised afternoons are nothing but day-long wake dreams. Bummer!
Unfortunately, the sun has proved itself a nice reminder of everything I could be doing instead of staying at the office. Damn!
"Stop bitchin' dude! You're getting on my nerves" the ever-present inner voice spoke.
"....." I gave no answer. The voice is usually right - and that's even more annoying cus' it usually speaks against you, mostly in a critical fashion. And both you and I know that.
"Endure the day, dude! It's all you got to do" the voice assumed a more kind and mildly manner.
As I don't have any other plausible argument to totally waste another working day, I sat back and just waited motivation to come my way. I started feeling more relaxed and noticed that I was clearly heading to La-la-Land .... probably due to last night 5 hour sauna-sleeping session.
Motivation, along with some other successful career key-elements just don't stroll around waiting to be hand-picked.
Unfortunately, I was not in the mood for motivational alchemies: I was feeling tired, sleepy and bummed out. I still am, actually.
Knowing that some decisions must be made unless I want to add one more slab of mason in the guilt wagon... my big morning deliberation is to actually work! (I could see the pleased crowd in awe). I'll work then, and then I'll work something out to lift up the spirit.
The inner-voice quickly replied: " I'll leave you up to it then".
I could finally turn on the headphones and not worry about the karma static.

Exercise 2

C:\Warning: posts are getting dangerously short in length!
Please reload "C'mon man..." module

recompiling kernel
......................................................................done!
kernel update OK!

starting "Write it now!" application
....................................done!


7 minutes... it's all I have, GO!
you can even consider it long enough, but it's not, at least for me it's definitively not enough
these 7 minutes have just been eroded to 5.... keep moving, type it quick cus' they've just been cut deeper..
4 minutes ...... and it's not even near..
but the clock ticks on... time breaks for nobody, really
but it's fun though, 2 minutes just don't feel so threatening... I must be getting into it.
I haven´t look yet but I bet we're ...nop, still 2 minutes to go!
Damn.. just lost it.... last minute...way past its half
My fingers are not getting away with it.... don't stop, don't stop....
STOP!

Well.. it's not a pretty sight.. sort of lame, I know,
don't ask me why, but I kinda liked the stuff.

I'm done here for today, cya round!
rebooting............................

Exercise

I have just come a bit closer of beatific enlightenment..

Creativity and inspirational surges are to not to be taken lightly!

When such blesses come across ... even in the most gruesome tooth-removal kind of situation, one must stop immediately and use them...
These are not like sex, they just come once and then they're gone for good. In sex you can always get some later... later in the evening, later in the in the week, next year, whenever. (I'm relying that you - fellow reader - are a fully grown, mature individual and have had - even if just on your own - some kind of similar experience (whatever that means)).

These "other" moments (the ones that won't lead you to sudden screaming and groaning for a few minutes) are there for a reason. And you will soon find out too....

They could take the form of an instant reminder, a sub-conscious fed-ex deliver straight to your cognoscenti live and daily routine, a lump of shit defecated from a demonic pigeon from above...
How bad can this ever be?

I reiterate my position, vigorously!!
Be grateful and strife to benefit from them as much as humanly possible.

And why???

Because, my unknown blog-scavenger friend , If I had done so, you shouldn't have to be going through these lines hoping to find something interesting, would you?
The painful truth!!

Long-term ambitions

Being as volatile as I am in my long-term ambitions, I started thinking about forming a band a few years ago...
Then it struck me : you don't have the will to make a compromise to your goals!
This voice from above shattered my outer not-so-thick masking devices - the ones you end up living on if you don't rise up to the "are you happy, no...no... wait, I mean TRULY happy?" question.
Damn!!! the voice was right! I really needed to re-check my bigger-than-life ambitions, or else I would never buy the private "chatêu" I once saw in Monte Carlo.
I mean... Becoming a Rock'n'Roll superstar does have its up's!
Still inebriated with the delusional 45+ room private castle view, I must have been run by a high-tech multimillionaire car (maybe a Hummer or so) because "the" voice entered in an infinite loop (Can my inner-voice please read the fucking Sequencer software manual once and for all and relieve the "LOOP BUTTON") ! It was getting annoying to say the least. I have enough "things" in my life already that could earn a living making merry dreamy happy people turn into a 80's Morrisey clone.
I realized that I needed finished tracks in order to pursue my cosmic aspirations as one of Bono Vox intimate buddies. (I heard Jennifer Anniston buys her friends HUGE gifts just for the sake of it... and fellow reader, a woman that spends 1 million dollars in Ylang-Ylang fragrance to make her mansion more appealing to friends surely deserves the friendship of such a loving and uninterested individual like yours truly).
Getting back to the subject, I made a inventory of all the shitty-sounding beggining of tracks and random loops that sum up my patrimonial heritage to the world..... After two hours of crying, cursing, sobbing and religious guerrilla warfare that would make a Elia Kazan movie seem like a western spaghetti, I realized that I needed something else, something like patience and perseverance (Don't worry, this is not a self-help blog, I'll just skip this part cus' I just started feeling like the end of a General Hospital episode... you don't want that and I definitelly don't want that).
Ok, next step: Where to buy these commodities? (It was Sunday evening and the shopping centers were already closed) Damn... Last resort: I'll buy them on e-Bay!!!!
Next thing you know I started bidding for a package of the needed items, that by chance were on sale by a supper-seller from a zen-budhisty on-line store... (I wonder how zen articles sell in Guatemala (location of the so called "make your dreams come true NOW!!" store).
The exchange was quick and clean: I made my pay-pal transfer and the zen-dudes promised to send the items the next day. In the end I was pleased! I went to bed at 5 o'clock in the morning with a high-anxiety attack, but knowing that those days were soon to end!
The following days were a phone-call disaster series as I read in the local newspaper that some hardcore-catholic mafia dudes from a governmental aided peace association in South America were being held responsible for a religious cleansing of foreign faiths - guess what: Major news headline - "Zen monastery and huge on-line selling success killed by UNKNOWN armed forces in South-America!" or "How e-Bay murdered 24 zen-monks and two cats" (ok I made this last one myself... but you get the picture).
Bottom-line: the government confiscated the lot! And I ended up with the absence of a large amount of money in my wallet. No package delivered, no items received.... just a well written note from the South American military thanking me for the wondrous donation that I had just made to their heavenly god-demanded quest!
I went home fully decided to format my hard-drive, blast my semi-tunes to oblivion, embrace a comatose pot-smoking session and begin round two of crying, cursing, sobbing and etc, etc....
I soon realized that the hard-drive formatting had not been one of my most successful endeavors... because the electricity went down seconds just before the dreaded "are you sure?" command line option was given an affirmative "Y" keyboard pressing.
I had an epiphany: My newly-dead-and-marketing-gurus- zen-monks had just avoided that I , in a momentary lapse of reason (No, I don't wish you were here, ok?) deleted all my stuff from the computer! Dude, was I stoked? Hell no, I was in a religious higher-than-high state of mind!
Maybe there is a place for these unfinished (I should really say un-started) tracks other than the recycle bin. I owe that to my zen-baldy-dudes...
The next day, much to my astonishment, I received a letter from an university's-zen-congregation based on Yale High-Finance and Management School cursing me for all eternity for having supported the religious cleansing in Guatemala by the military!!! Those green dressed heavily armed cut-throats had put me in a thanking list on their web-site, named "Worldwide comrades who have helped the cause".

Purposes and expectations

Well, well....
After some initial doubts and hesitations, I finally got myself up to it and decided to engage in what I consider a second attempt of stepping into the so often pathetic world of blogging.
(I would even dare to say that blogging might turn out as a fantastic schizophrenia therapy as most of the most amazing writings that I have been blessed with are mostly read by the blog-owners themselves)
Being an enthusiast of everything that amazes me, I wondered about the possible constraints that this incursion might bring to my never ending list of already packed-to-the-brim hobbies and unfortunate interests.
More than this I wanted to be able to answer to other blogs as to render my mischievous conception of things more up-to-date.
Don't worry.... refering to my most-than-high-tech calculations, a weekly visit of 0.6 individuals is expected to actually read this weary turds.
Well... that's it for now! Hope to hear from me ... oops, from you soon..
double click and you're off the virtual sphere of La-La-Land and enter the uncanny world of fear and loathing in your daily working routine.... how fucked up is that huh?