#23 no sense for this Monday

it's 10 am Monday morning and Sunday is gone so i just allow myself to plan a good day but then, because it's Monday and Monday is cinema at the theatre night, i go and check what's today movie. Seriously? In the Realm of the Senses? Perfect! that's exactly what i wanted... a torrid sexy movie i can ask nobody to go with unless i accept the fact that it's going to be very likely that we end up in bed afterwards...

#22 all gone to look for America

Laughing on the bus
Playing games with the faces
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said "Be careful his bowtie is really a camera"

"Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat"
"We smoked the last one an hour ago"
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine
And the moon rose over an open field

"Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why

#21 summer rain

just today I'd forgive you. maybe because it's rainning and the rain has the ability to clean the skies and maybe your soul would come soaking wet and all your dirt would be on your shoes and i wouldn't look down. just today I'd maybe give you the hug and let your stupid head lay on my lap for a little bit, I'd let you cry your fears again and pretend that there is still salvation for your body. maybe I'd let you fuck me slowly knowing that I could have a better fuck, and still be there with all my heart, maybe today i could leave my brain outside the house, sitting waiting on the first floor, waiting for you to leave again so it could come up to resume with my life tomorrow.

#20 i'll keep me in mind

always thought that the selfie thing was a product of beauty contests and need of acceptance, kind of a show off tell me I'm pretty so I can believe it, as if we couldn't decide if we were without someone telling us.
i have the amazing memory of my grandfather who's 93 and still remember all the meetings he had, all the people he met and all the funny stories, the time he spilled the whole bottle of wine at the fancy restaurant, date included. i'm very proud to have inherited these genes from him. but genes by itself are nothing if we don't put them to work and photographies have always been my little help. i've always loved photographies. not photography as an art, but printed images of life. and all my life i let people take pictures of me, not really caring if i looked good, if my belly was hidden, if i had a pimple or not. i have pictures with stains on my sweater that remind me that, that day, in Rome, it was cold and i had a pizza and let the fat drip on my pink sweater and it's good to remember that. as it's good to still remember how much it hurted to break the finger when i was 5 and i still feel those tears that are printed on the family album, me wearing jean overalls that i hated and scottish pattern shirt, short hair, looking like a little boy. i've posed to silly photographies when i was feeling silly and posed an adult when i was feeling very grown up and because of the pictures i can always remember how it is to feel either crazy or quiet.
i lost all the pictures of me of the last 12 years. he took them all. i will always have the memories of moments, but i don't think i'll remember for too long the colour of the sheets of the cheap pension where he adored me while i was sleeping, or how windy it was when we saw the jellyfish on Sado. i still have it now, but they'll be gone soon.
and because i will always want to remember me now, where i am, even with all the sadness, i'll take pictures of myself from now on. like i buy my own flowers.

#19 dead man walking

if somebody asks me about him, I'll just say he died. it was a suicide, poor boy... he voluntarily killed the best part of him and left only a rotten body to party around. dead.

#18 let time take it's time

I make tea and let it seat it to cool down for the summer day. I would never buy packed iced tea and keep it in the fridge, not because of the waste of package or the sugar in it, just because time needs to pass.

I make tea and let it seat to cool down for the summer day because time needs to breath, it needs to have time for itself, no rushes, I can have tea later, time needs wait for the wind to blow the leaves in the balcony, so I let time take it's time, slowly ticking. who really cares about the seconds on a Sunday morning?

#17

if I come here once a month to plant a bad day, do not worry, it's the hormones and the inconvenience of being a woman.

it also means that I'm not pregnant.

#16 don't know who you are but right now I love you

Somedays are just bad days and they are only born to be cried, nothing else. Today was a bad day and I cried it from 7am.
All the ungiving hugs, the unspoken words, all the love that was gone, the longing - cried them all. The urgent need of a hug, the kiss my neck won't feel, the absolute need of arms around me, a lap, a shoulder, a small piece of skin against mine, a belly, a buzzum for pillow - all cried.
The knowing that no-one will be waiting for me at home at the end of the day, the food that will be cooked for one, my shower that nobody will watch, the new Chopin cd that only my hears will listen, my new sexy underware that no-one will feel and the sound of the words i love you on my back as i fell asleep that won't see the day - cried it all.
Cried from 7am till now. Cried with good friends that held me, cried in bed in the middle of the afternoon, cried on the phone and while having a cup of coffee, accepting that somedays are just bad and being strong everyday is exhausting.

Still crying oppened the internet browser on the phone where I'm writting now and I discover this. I have no idea when or how or who manage to steal my phone for a few seconds to leave me this search on the browser, but thank you. It meant the world to me.

#15 well... I have to start somewhere

why do I only flirt with people that I know for sure I won't be seeing anytime soon? or why are these boys more prone to flirt with me? cos I don't remember any local boy saying "you have the sexiest brain ever and it totally matchs you body" on the first night out...

#14 Sunday hours

I live inside books. always did. and movies and songs. only for a couple of hours a week I get out to the real world. When I do I am a full person, I talk, I fight, I laugh, I bring my own world to its knees, shouting ideas to every corner, feel like I could take the world if I wanted. but the truth is that I don't want to.

I could spend months smoking in my balcony like a picture of myself. I am a picture of myself most of my hours.

Maybe that's what people that are alone are. Pictures of themselves. I dress up to smoke a cigarette in the balcony. I shave my legs to stay at home. The picture is in my head, has always been, like an old photograph or a Modigliani painting I once saw in a museum.

When I'm sad and I smoke I'm Mrs Dalloway and I'm Nicole Kidman and I sit in my balcony smoking and being sad like I was both of them and I'm worried about the flowers like they would be.

When I go into the woods and put my bare feet in the freezing water, I am a poem and at night I can feel flowers blooming from my feet.

Gerês

Quando me levantei

já as minhas sandálias andavam

a passear lá fora na relva.

Esta noite

até os atacadores dos sapatos

floriram.

Jorge Sena Braga

I drink tea often because there is a picture in my mind of me drinking tea, not because I'm thristy. I paint my bedroom walls because somedays I wake up and I'm the girl in this picture and when I sit by the window, dressed with a black dress, reading a book, I'm almost certain that, without noticing, my hair turned brown.

Almost everyday I am a different person. Most of my characters are soft and sad beautiful women. Sometimes I'm a boy and I get restless like boys do in my mind. When I'm boy it's a good day - boys are never sad. In those days I build things and I wear shorts and snickers and I eat junk food and leave crumbles everywhere and drink beer and I'm happy and I flirt around. Never on Sundays thou.




On Sundays I'm always this girl, faceless and quiet. and I leave myself to be, full of sweetness, looking at the roses, so distant that I don't even notice myself.