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Fucking HILARIOUS!!!!

2008-09-17T15:04:00.002+01:00

I am officially a fan of Urban Dictionary:
Just check out this one:
(I know it's a bit teenager but nonetheless inspiring)

(Post about Emo-punk or Emo ...)

An entire subculture of people (usually angsty teens) with a fake personality. The concept of Emo is actually a vicious cycle that never ends, to the utter failing of humanity.

Emo life-cycle:
1. Girls say they like "sensitive guys" (lie)
2. Guy finds out, so he listens to faggy emo music and dresses like a dork so chicks will see that he is sensitive and not afraid to express himself (lie). He dyes his hair black, wraps himself in a stupid looking scarf, develops an eating disorder, and rants about how "nobody understands".
3. Now an emo guy, he meets Emo chick and they start dating, talking about how their well-off suburban lifestyles are terrible and depressing (lie)
4. Emo guy is just too much of a pussy. His penis is too small, he's too depressed to bathe, and has more mood swings than emo chick, and he doesn't even have a menstrual cycle. Emo chick dumps him, saying "It's not you, it's me." (lie) as she drives off with Wayne, the school jock and captain of the football team.
5. Emo guy goes home and cries, proceeds to write a weak song and strum a single string on his acoustic guitar. Another emo chick sees how he is so in touch with his feelings, and the cycle continues.

And still another one:

Punk music on estrogen.

....and another one:

Like a Goth, only much less dark and much more Harry Potter.

....and still another one:

A musical genre/ scene that has almost 1000 definitions in urban dictionary most of which are making fun of it.

Something that all stereotypes agree on they hate.

And for the grand finale,
How to be EMO:

Wear only skinny jeans or old, crappy, tight, cut-up jeans. Wear tight shirts that you can barely get over your head. If after getting dressed you can't breathe and look like a hobo, you've done it right. No shoes but low-top Converse or slip-on Vans are acceptable. Anything out of Hot Topic will do.

Dye your hair with the cheapest, least-convincing black dye you can find. Nothing over 99 cents. Fix it so that you look like you just rolled out of bed then walked through a hurricane and lost a fight with a lawn mower.

Peirce everything you can reach, and put in the largest, ugliest rings you can find.

Dark, thick makeup is key in the emo world. Never leave the house without putting on globs and globs of badly-put-on black eyeliner. Extreme amounts of bright pink eyeshadow is optional.

Now that we've covered the emo look, it's time to teach you to act the part of an emo, so the others won't think of you as a poser.

Flip your hair vigorously every ten seconds. If your neck is broken at the end of the day, good job.

Whine about your pathetic life every chance you get, (twice as much if your parents are divorced) but never reveal that you live in saburbia. If asked where you reside, say something emo like, "The depths of living hell", "The home of sorrow", or some other pussy shit like that.

Always have your MySpace mood set to "apathetic," and make sure to have about 986730865734567349576 pictures of yourself with extremely emo captions that have plenty of X's. It is necessary to be a MySpace whore, and to beg for picture comments in a bulletin every ten minutes.

Only listen to emo bands such as Dashboard Confessional, My Chemical Romance, ect. If there is an extremely popular emo band at your school, say that you like them even if you don't.

Make it widely known that you cut yourself every night with a razorblade while listening to emo music. If ever asked why, say something stupid like, "I cut myself to stay ALIVE! You would NEVER understand!" Then run away crying, even if you are not upset.

Finally, always deny that you are emo. Claim to be scene, goth, or a "non-conformist." But always keep in mind that you are, and always will be, a pussy little emo fag.
Emo kid: My life is a big black whole of sorrow and nothingness. My razorblade is the only thing that lets me know I am still alive.

Normal kid: Fuck you, emo.

Emo kid: Oh em gee! I'm not emo! I'm SCENE!

Normal kid: What's the difference?

Emo kid: You don't UNDERSTAND! Why does nobody get me!?!?! *Runs away crying and cutting himself, preparing to post this event on his blog.*

Definitions #1

2008-09-17T14:28:00.004+01:00

I'm getting more and more nervous regarding the lack of posts in this blog. Well actually is more than that... It's the hassle that comes along with it (you know, having to think about it and eventually mix it up with a fairly good amount of cretinism... that takes its time doesn't it?)

I came up with the coolest of writers' block antidote ever (I know it's been up for some years now, but it's still pretty cool nevertheless)

http://www.urbandictionary.com/

Well, well, well....

I'll be posting some semi-random definitions, followed by a brief commentary of my own.
All of you boys, girls, trans-genders and coolies of the sort can then post your insights on them, and even come up with some new ones...

So......
The first one is

Neo-goths
My definition : major wankers with a music taste resembling their dressing costumes and possessors of an imported sense of disdain or hatred-like feeling towards everything that can make one smile once and a while.

U.Dic. definition:
Dresses in only the worst hot-topic fashions pulled straight from shitty animes. A Neo-goths tell tale sign is the possession of bondage pants, I.E. those fucking hot topic pants with all the chains on them, you know the ones. Constantly quotes anime and acts likes a generally hyper little tard, probably fat, ugly or both.

Now go for it dudes and dudettes!!

The gig...

2008-09-17T11:26:00.003+01:00

... that never happened just might be one more step closer to reality.
I'm getting more and more itchy about some stuff that I keep feeding but end up by not moving an inch to actually make happen.

Yesterday I started doing something about it:
- I will fix my desktop computer to turn it into a proper DAW. No shit, no flicks, no shennanigans.

Future steps:
-Format the bitch!
-Recover all tracks, finished or non-finished.
-Use the already made bits of tunes and refurbish them.

Steps to avoid:
-Start one-night-shot-tracks that end up summing to the already highly saturated bag of "unfinished business".
-Same as the above but done "under the influence".
-Re-watching movies that I've already seen countless times.
-Re-stop watching TV at night (It's an utter waste of time anyway)

Goals and milestones:
-At least one live performance (a.k.a. GIG) up and running until spring-break 2009.

Needs:
-Motivation, motivation, motivation;
-Self-confidence;

In the end, the motto for all of this is -and I quote - "I want to believe"

I will eventually post some of the aforementioned achievements in the near future...
..as they come along.
.....if they come along

Smartass

2008-08-29T12:41:00.004+01:00

Long gone are the times where ethics meant shit.
Nowadays, ethics could well be the name of a one-hit wonder from an electro-pop from the late 80's, or even a forgotten brand of sneakers that bankrupted when his owner left 30- something badly paid workers on the doe and left for India searching for spiritual enlightenment.
The only way I imagine ethics to work is exactly in your smartass scheme to get somewhere or something that you wouldn't normally deserve based only on your grace-state and merit.
One needs to maintain a rigid still adaptable level of cynical judgment, at all times, in all circumstances... and that my dear one-brain lobe-using-friends, needs hard-edged ethical behaviour.

Think about it!!!

Hurry boy!!!

2008-08-27T18:41:00.003+01:00

It's mindbending how much time is wasted in dreaming of things to be.
So hurry!!
Hurry boy if you don't wan't to crank your neck to watch the trains pass by, one after the other.
Be honest boy, and hurry. Fasten your pace and run, boy!
Make sure you don't end up running backwards...
Look at it, Boy!! just need to look at it, a short glimpse, you don't need to stare.
Don't let your feet get cold, boy.
Run! Run, I say!

Nothing in particular .... (part 2)

2008-07-10T01:27:00.002+01:00

Continuing the "worst night out in Lisbon" in my post-France era, I realised that I didn't want to finish this post.
I called it a "part 2" just because I didn't wat to let any of my hard-core fans with their trousers mid-way through their legs.

I also realised that long posts are a little bit like sex:
1-One can praise quantity over quality... (frequent action-packed short bursts of witty sentences);
2-One can praise quality over quantity... (long in-deep analysis with discernible stages scoping from a soft build-up to full scale explosion of ideas and epiphanies)

I tend to prefer the latter (both in sex and writing), but if confrontated with the possibility of the first, I will definitively take my chances...(you just need to cross your fingers and hope for the best)

Just to keep track of the post title, I'll just take a few words to describe how one can read between the lines and finally grasp the complex weaving of this imense loom that we, so wondrously call the fabric of emotions that dwelve in the world of warehouse modern rave parties. Parties like this suck big time!!!

I'm going to get a blast of shockwaves tomorrow, and I'm just not in the mood of continuing to discuss a crap party experience. I am officially over it, just like the Dandys.

By the way... I'm shit scared of getting my kidney blown off by one "off-the-target" shot.
I' m having these visions of a doctor reassuring me about his precision targeting system, and simultaneously remembering of Koweit and Iraq....
And worse than getting my kidney ending up a civil casualty of my urologist convictions in technology, is the fact that I'll be pissing sharpnels for the following week!!!
That's just about the most uncool subject to talk about if you end up getting a date on the following days... just imagine the look on her face when you told her that beside the blood there's also some not-so-tiny pointy solid rocks that could come out in any given situation!!!
I should keep a mental note on when to start this subject in the following days from the cirgury.

Well, that's it

Nothing in particular...part 1

2008-07-01T20:38:00.003+01:00

Remember the hard-etc...etc..-party night?

Well, I do!
It was utter crap!
It was a major K crap!!!!
Why is that when you actually do some forward planning toward a binge-drinking buddy night, it turns out to be - most often - a shot in the foot?
I went to a so called "Digital art and electronic music festival" .... yeah there was some digital in it, but there wasn't anything remotely similar to art and even less to what I usually call a festival.
The musical thematic was supposed to be minimal techno.... According to my point of view it was a full-blown-out techno affair where the epithet of minimal should have been addressed to to the audience in assistance: 2:45 am and the massive attendance was of approximately 25 mislead individuals, already counting with the DJs families and closest of friends.
Mix that with a acute crisis of party deprivation and a larger than life willingness to have fun , and what do you get... beside the excruciating headache from a crap sound system in a seemingly useless warehouse where this gathering of wastefuls' took place? Let me tell you in a kindly manner: an unbearable sense of frustration for having to have paid for it!!!!
It's already bad when a Dj sucks, but when the sucking DJ - who is supposedly one of the more acclaimed in that particular genre - is playing for 10 basket cases is just too much to handle! I'll take the chance to make a witty remark about an older couple that clearly chose the wrong set of drugs for the event.... the poor bastards.. I think they were on their way to the Yellow Submarine filming locations... and speeding to it, most definitively!!
Yours truly was in such a mood that if the end of world hunger was officially announced at that particular occasion, I would probably complain about the cold.
But let us hold a little bit to the fabulous albeit monotonous world of minimal techno.
I'm starting to think that there are some guys in the music industry that really really would love to edit a record or be known for their musical (in)ability... so what do you do when you can't produce a good record in your preferable or favorite style?? You create a new one!!!!
If done properly you can eventually excel at it!
So.. now one can imagine the dude in his studio, banging the new Dj Superstar onto his head wandering why can't he.... the dude..... in the studio..... create a bangin' track??
Fuck that! he says. I'm starting the same track as Dj Whatshisname but without the complicated parts (that he can't achieve to produce, of course) and claiming a new esthetically sound manifest, he declares triumphantly: That's it!!! I'm now doing minimal-whatever (the second term doesn't really matter that much).

(to be continued....)

Been a while

2008-06-28T20:37:00.002+01:00

Just found out that I still had a working blog!
Good for me.
I stopped here today to share (most probably with just myself) that much has changed since my last badly written rant.
I went to France, my work was appreciated by most interested parties minus my boss, I came back from France, I gave a step further in being happy.
The last one is clearly the most significant!
It's funny when you finally end up finding stuff that has always been there just waiting to be noticed. I finally noticed that I had a "stuff" waiting... The thing was that the "stuff" was just about to leave the premises when I actually saw it.
That was a really cool happening! a real phenomenon, not the steroid'ed LL Cool J, and with a even better acting than the latest from Mr. Do-it-All-mostly-bad Shayalam... or what's his name....
My grief with the universe and with my boss in particular was even soothed by this glorious event of randomness.
The "stuff" I found is hidden in the next sentences... be sure to clear your perspective of form to find it:
1-Leaving some of your life-time expectations behind can prove painful, but it's cool when you do realize that those expectations were for somebody else than you.
2-Over and over again one tries to achieve goals in an eternal short-term attitude... that usually leads to short-term fulfillment and longer-term frustrations.
3-Veiling over your past deeds like a real-estate property often prevents you from increase them.
4-Ending one chapter usually leaves space for new ones to come by.

Gotta go now....
A full-blown-out-hard-party-night awaits me....
...and I don't want to leave her waiting!!!

P.S.: if you find it hard to find the stuff in the sentences... than you're not intelligent and your hard drive will self-destruct before you can even post a flaming comment!
...just kidding
Actually, your hard drive will in fact self destruct, but just after you realize that your comment was useless and you're in fact a non-so-intelligent human being.

In this case try to sum up all the beginnings.....

Cheeri'os!!!

Roundabout

2007-11-18T21:25:00.000Z

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)

2007-11-17T19:03:00.000Z

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

2007-08-07T19:00:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-03T00:30:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-01T10:19:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-29T01:41:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-27T01:26:00.001+01:00

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

2007-07-24T15:46:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-23T22:52:00.001+01:00

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?