To love or not to love

À medida que começamos a gostar de alguém ou de um grupo de amigos, o perigo aumenta. As pessoas mudam de sítio, as pessoas até morrem, as pessoas simplesmente mudam. Podem nunca retribuir o nosso amor.
Amar é perigoso.
Então, o que se faz? Fecha-se o coração e vive-se em estado de autosufiência ou aceita-se o perigo de braços abertos?

Uma canção

Soft Cell
Martin


Martin
Martin is talking to you

Martin is a boy with problems
Martin has a family history
Martin has too many nightmares
He lives in a fantasy
There's a danger that he'll take too far
His morbid curiosity

He's seen too many creepy films
He's read too many books
Martin sleeps with all the lights on
Martin's seen too many looks
He lives out a strange obsession
Tries hard to resist
But Martin needs his strange obsession
To exist

(Kill, kill, kill)

He's far too pale and far too frail
To be a normal boy
There's something shining in his eyes
The things he'd like to say
Martin had a lot to live down
Growing up in a mining town
Torches burning in the trees
The shivering lust of blood
He's the star of many horror movies
But deep inside he's good

There's an illness flowing through him
That's there all the time
And though he watches and he waits
He knows he's not to blame
The face at the window
The hand under the bed
Martin has hallucinations
Dreams that he's dead
He finds the hunger's at its worst
When he's in bed

(Kill, kill, kill)

He's finding hard to keep control
He knows it won't be long
And his tongue rolls over his dry lips
And the voice lingers on

Está aqui.

Alergia

Tenho andado a pensar em fazer uma vida mais saudável.

Mas sou alérgica ao conceito.

A olhar a Lua

Isto vai ser bom.

No comments

Alguém (quem esteve atento aos comentários sabe quem é) insistiu em publicar comentários em nome de outras pessoas, demonstrando uma atitude no mínimo infantil e desconhecedora de qualquer respeito pelo (bom) nome alheio.
Avisei uma vez e a criatura reincidiu.
Há coisas intoleráveis. Há coisas dispensáveis.
De modo que decidi retirar os comentários.

E há males que vêm por bem.

Estamos na altura da Páscoa, altura que convida à meditação, ao recolhimento e ao sacrifício... E eu também preciso de sossego. Junta-se portanto a fome à vontade de comer.

Se tiverem algo para me dizer, e até se quiserem que eu publique, façam-no por email. Podem sempre comentar os meus textos no vosso próprio blog, caso o tenham. (Não se esqueçam de fazer um link para eu saber, através do Technocrati, que comentaram as minhas palavras.)
Não sei quanto tempo a situação se vai manter assim. Sei que para mim vai ser benéfico ficar sem o feedback habitual. Sinto falta de uma certa solidão.
Sinto falta de uma nova etapa.

Skinheads, não, obrigada!

Como é que eu hei-de pôr isto de forma simples?


Nós não gostamos de vocês.
Desapareçam.

Vistam preto

Quando este blog ainda estava no outro servidor, publiquei a letra desta canção.

Free to Wear Black , Node Out

Vou publicar de novo.
E desta vez, podem ouvi-la e guardá-la! Oh, yes! Sou ou não sou boazinha para vocês?

Free to Wear Black
Node Out

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '02, wear black.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, wearing black would be it.
The long-term benefits of wearing black have been proven by Goths, death rockers, and other kinds of freaks, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your corset. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your corset until someone sees how fat you are without it. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now what a marvelous piece of clothing a corset is, and how fabulous you really looked. You are now fatter than you imagined.
Don't worry about if you’re Gother than me. Or worry, but know that worrying is as affective as trying to apply your foundation after your eyeliner has set. And you STILL won’t be Gother than me. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind. The kind that close most of the stores just before you wake up.
Do one thing every day that scares normal people.
Sing This Corrosion to them…
Don't be reckless with other peoples' cloves; don't put up with people who are reckless with yours. Floss after every pack.
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're sub, sometimes you're dom. The whip is long and in the end, you’re only whipping yourself.
Remember compliments about your makeup. Avenge the insults.
If you succeed in doing this, people will be afraid of you... and justibiably so. Keep your old club flyers; throw away your old love letters.
Sleep… during the day.
Don't feel guilty if you think you’ll be less Goth as you get older. The most interesting Goths I know were ravers at 16 when they finally got some sense beat into them, some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know are Gother than I am.
Get plenty of caffeine.
Be kind to brain cells, you'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you’re bisexual.
Maybe you'll have children, maybe you’re smart.
Maybe you'll wear a suit and work for a bank at 25, maybe you'll dance at Slimelight on their 40th anniversary.
Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body. Better yet, enjoy someone else’s.
Use it every way you can, and don't be afraid of what other people think you’re doing. They’re just going to go home and spank their monkeys anyway.
Dance.
Even if you have nowhere to do it but that really crowded spot by the bar.
Read the lyrics even if they’re all in German.
Do not look at the pictures in Newgrave or Gothic Beauty. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know the DJ and the door guy.
You never know when this club will be gone but they’ll need a bartender at the new one.
Be nice to the Goths who have cars.
They are your best ride to shows and the people most likely to give you a ride home after.
Understand that clubs come and go. That’s it… clubs come and go…
Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, for there are budding Goths in places like Kentucky that need guidance.
Go to Convergence once, but leave before it makes you hard.
Go to Projekt Fest once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Don’t be afraid to listen to music that came out after 1990.
Accept certain inalienable truths: drink prices will get higher, boots will get shorter, you too will get old and when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, drink prices were reasonable, 14-eyed Docs went to your knees, and people respected older Goths.
Respect older Goths.
Don't expect any band to put you on the guest list, but be grateful when they do.
Maybe you have a job, maybe you'll have a sugar daddy but you'll never know when either one will get sick of you.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're twenty, it will be hard to get a job.
Be careful who tells you what’s Goth and what’s not.
Advice is a form of nostalgia.
Dispensing it is a way of trying to pass on your own Gothness to another generation without actually having children.
But trust me on wearing black.

Está aqui.

Se não conseguirem ouvir, cliquem com o botão direito do rato e façam "save as" ou "guardar como".