...out of your mind and into mine...

You know what's really cool? Getting inspired in Photoshop while listening to the Rammstein live concert through your window [that being said you won't figure out where exactly I live even if you know a general location unless you follow me; but don't do that, it's creepy]. And what's even cooler is the memory of 2 years ago's Metallica concert, when I shouted SAD BUT TRUE and the happy coincidence made it so that they played this song right then. Many of you asked me if I am going to Sonisphere and my answer was no; I wanted to answer all of you at once, here, in my blog. Sorry to disappoint. :)

However, as the title says, if you go out of your mind and into mine, I was there these two nights [especially the second night of this festival] and I am sure that I was more there than a lot of people who, quoting my best friend, will only remember the floor and the number of beers they had. I am also giving a message to fellow real "Metllica" fans who never got the chance to see them: seeing them live doesn't make you more or less of a fan. Being a fan means respecting the band, getting the message, not signing your presence at their concert. I know someone who is a real fan of a band that she's never seen live. I could have gone to this festival, I have been offered a lot of opportunities and I declined from the start not only because I have seen Metallica, but because I didn't want to go. I'd like to make it clear to whoever reads this that I don't listen to Metallica a little before and after a concert, this band is my number one at all times. So read this and I won't have to repeat myself all the time.

However, those of you who are real fans and went to this concert or simply know me well enough, I am sure that you went out of your minds and into mine and understood the purpose of my post. :) I know it was a blast, I was there...sort of.

Moving on. I know I haven't been writing here for a while and that's because sometimes, one finds himself in a moment of no inspiration. While some would force themselves into composing a sad song of lack of thought, others simply take a break. My break consisted in visual arts, NCIS marathon and other activities [following the NCIS marathon :))].

I have realized that sometimes, spiritual travelling can be much more amazing than physical. Actually, to some degree, I have forsaken my physical adventures in favor of the spiritual ones. To some degree, as stated. I don't live in Neverland and I am not schizophrenic either.

I have also realized that sometimes I need reasurrance. That's not good, but admitting the disease is one step in curing it. I also noticed that sometimes I am still stuck to appearances, but that is changing.

I will try some freewriting in the future.

[*photo taken by my best friend, modified by me.]



I have foreseen in him..the risk of being untamed. And let me tell you how fine that risk is, how pleasant and exhilarating, sometimes even sexually arousing it is...how it stirs those emotions that you have locked in a drawer somewhere, when as a child, they educated you about human and imoral.

Love...love is not a word I throw between sheets or beyond the speed limits, love is for the sacred. Love is that body that turns into smoke and no matter how insubstantial that body becomes and no matter how impossible it is to grip it, the feeling continues to rise until it becomes you, like death, only better. And then, you start to smoke every cigarette, to just have a glimpse of that feeling you've had or dreamed to have, but all of them become cancerous, leaving that bad taste in your mouth, for this smoke you are looking for cannot stem from a package...it's one of a kind.

And it wanders through music, just like a song you knew as a child, but cannot remember its name, you only recall a few notes, like a distant memory from a past life, but you cannot tell whether it was this song...or that song...or a creation of your own mind. But you, entirely tamed by the curses that they threw over your dreams, you still keep them locked, without air or light, hoping they'd die. What you forget is that they don't need neither air nor light, for as you thought that they'd lay there silent, they slowly crawled inside you, begging you to remember and they saw the same light that you saw.

After a while, it's not love that you seek anymore, but revenge. All these years turn into a deep wound that you feel at each step that you take in the opposite direction. It pulls you back, but we all know that man will always be slightly masochistic. Ceasing our dreams, refusing to live, a torture that most of us take gladly.

Society? Oh, but that's simply a handful of frustrations. Principles, morality, wealth, they all hide the inner wish, that burning desire to be acknowledged and safe. They need prejudgments to hold you down, to put the mask on your face and in some cases (the happy ones), that mask begins to asphyxiate you, and you feel it, but ignore it, the lack of air brings that rush of hallucination that makes you feel good for a while, but only for a while...and if you don't hurry, you'll panic and you won't be able to escape. In the other cases, the mask merges with your face and you become the prejudgment.

Morality...most likely, an excuse for men to have fun and women to endure. Wealth...simply creating a carton (metal or diamond) personality to the ones without a face, the simplest road to acknowledgement. Building your being is hard, buying your being is easy and after you're done, you'll continue by buying other beings.

But those are for the weak kind and if you're weak, you're never safe. Safe is for the strong. The weak need shelter, they depend on it. Take the wealth from a man and throw him in an island, with other people that don't know about it, he will be destroyed. Take the word sex out of his vocabulary and he'll be talking like a 5 year old.

But I want to be untamed so I'm unlocking my drawers.


For Each other.

Helplessly hoping her harlequin hovers nearby
Awaiting a word
Gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit he runs
Wishing he could fly
Only to trip at the sound of goodbye

Wordlessly watching he waits by the window and wonders
At the empty place inside
Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams he worries
Did he hear a good-bye?
Or even hello?

They are one person
They are two alone
They are three together
They are for each other

Stand by the stairway you'll see something certain to tell you
Confusion has its cost
Love isn't lying it's loose in a lady who lingers
Saying she is lost
And choking on hello

They are one person
They are two alone
They are three together
They are for each other

[Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - Helplessly Hoping]

I never thought of dividing myself, it couldn't be any other way.