Friday, June 29, 2007

my immortal

Me encantaba esta canción, y el video; me encantaba el vestido, el look de Ben Moody antes de ser hermitaño y ser parte del equipo creativo de Avril Lavinge, la fuente, la ciudad (Barcelona) las tomas.. bueno, hasta el tipo uqe se atravieza en bici. Derepente se me había olvidado y me lo encotré buscando otro video uqe no encontré..

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Monday, June 25, 2007

the secret life of daydreams



So it seems
As the deepest, saddest, slowest trance lingers on a melody
A glance, once in a while, that caresses slightly, a touch even
A sign to which sounds fly over the silvered wings of time.
Feathers caressing skin like the shadows of a branched tree, a cloud
Warm heat flowing as the touch of yellow sun on the skin and the heart,

and trough window,
the answer to the trouble,
As it should be, waiting for Mister Darcy is meant to be cruel and lasting
Hurtful
Endless.
Just as written…


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Otherness, for all of what it’s worth, doesn’t sound as bad as loneliness. Odd feeling though, one does bring the other, and walking away has never been my best trait.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

catching dreams

She never really believed in love. Being loved, maybe. Loving, not so much. It sounds stupid once said, to be honest, but stupid things are fun, like stupid jokes once told and remembered much. She could have believed and yet, she never truly had a reason why. Never felt it. Maybe she did and decided to stop. It hurts to love and not be loved. In the end, it all falls in to space like words into blank page. In the, it is nothing but a word.
And then it was strange, feelings collapsed and walls came down. A new kind of naked confidence. Alone you stand, safe but cold, alone in a world of stars and nowhere lands and trees that carry apples and lights and over cast furry funny animals. And madness seams to go insane by letting selves walk in. Beings. It is infinite you know. Tides break like legs and fingers and skulls. With out a motion or a thought. She just knows. And knowing sucks!. And watching King just… it’s the best. His readings, who knows –too scared to read ‘em- but the things on scrip rock. Its like, what’s going on in his brain? It must indeed be a very frightening place. And still, so human. Funny.
Fear, just like knowing, sucks. She knows.

The Dreamcatcher: This is our twentieth year coming out here to "Hole In The Wall", and fuck me Freddy, here's to twenty more.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

La mascada roja

Les he dicho uqe soy fan de los anuncios de Palacio de Hierro? la verdad nunca he ido a la tienda jejej pero me gustan de todas formas. Un día... ;)

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

exhale


exhale
Originally uploaded by _Neverletmego_
Breath, cold. White.
Feather like touch.
I miss you so much.
Cold
Empty green park
Benches and leaves on the ground
Rip the skin
Muscles and flesh
Red
Colour, break
Touch the soul
Madness
Reach, loose
Fall on a thorn
Scream!
Feel…
No tears
Swirl
Fall.

-Waiting for an unstoppable force-

Saturday, June 02, 2007

reading

Maybe it doesn’t get better than this
And maybe people its just, supposed to settle
There may not be a forever but just a moment
The worst and best part of writing your own words is you can read them afterwards. I mean for a moment, like before… but I fear I’ve been looking for forever. That’s not pretty. I fear that if this is as good as it gets then I have not much to look forward.
I’ve recently been told that sad makes great art yet a crappy life. True. The one problem is there is not even good art. No beauty left… a moment can be great if it rushes…if it makes happenings.
I used to believe in fairy tales and true endings, I guess I still do. I believe in the idea of romance and love stories, in the breaking heart and shaky lips. I believe in the pain. Still, that’s the whole problem, it is an idea alone. And ideas are hardly ever something more that thoughts and electricity.
My heart is clenched. Stolen. The fire that would light it and make it warm has proceeded to slowly fade into a shadow of what it once was. I believe in the heart as a muscle, a flesh coloured piece of nerves.
By saying it doesn’t get better than this then the two sides clearly show; one reminds you of the greatness of the moment and the other one of the emptiness in it.
When I was a kid I used to wonder whose thoughts were these inside my head, was it just me? why did I think what I did? then I realized they were mine and started wondering if they were good or bad or what were they... i used to feel like I needed to be allowed to think. Anything. I'd forgotten that. I needed to remember it.

I’ve found a character to relate to in a book I can’t even finish. I’ve been looking for something written with such passion and I found it. Silly it is to think so, but great, almost classic like authors have never been my strength. Her name is Sarah and it has a fashionable way of reminding me why I’d loved that name for a while. Is hard not to see through the other characters, the aching husband, the jealous lover, the unspoken of disease.
Out of the bad habit of underlining great lines I have this:


“It was like perfect peace again until I put the receiver down, when immediately that devil in my bran prompted the thought that the waste of those three hours meant nothing at all to her.
I have never understood why people who can swallow the enormous improbability of a personal God boggle at a personal Devil. I have known so intimately the way that demon works in my imagination…”

And a question
“If I eliminate everything, how will I exist?... What happens if you drop all the things that make you I?”

Friday, June 01, 2007

De corazones...


Quiero un corazón nuevo.
Uno que no sepa querer
Que no esté medio engrapado
Que no esté inundado.
Uno que tenga ojos
Al que le falten las excusas
Que le sobren risas y canciones
Más amigable, menos atento
Que no vea los detalles
Que no tenga buena memoria
Que sepa mentir mejor
Deberá sentir menos
Deberá no tenerle miedo a estar solo
Que tenga lentes bonitos

Y cadenas para llevarlo al cuello,

no en las mangas

Con más taquicárdias

Más sangre dentro

Que le importe menos...




Baking


Pastelito!
Originally uploaded by groovysong24
Dicen que si no juegas con fuego no te quemas.. yo hice un pastel y me quemé!! ok no.. sólo un toquesito. Creo que todos acabamos quemados de todas formas.. .

Nievesita!!


Nievesita!!
Originally uploaded by groovysong24
Súper rica btw..