Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

Quod me nutrit me destruit

What nourishes me,  also destroys me.

Think about it.


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You know the feeling when you’re watching something you absolutely do not feel like watching?

Like a boring baseball match when you’re stuck for hours in an airport lounge. Yeah. The worst part of it? You don’t have the remote in your hands so you can’t change the channel. And no, you cannot just go and ask somebody to change to channel, so… you’re stuck watching whatever you’re watching, even though you don’t feel like watching it.

I know. Crappy.

So, yeah. That’s… me. Watching something unfold before my eyes (ok, not really), and sometimes wishing I had that damn remote in my hands.


Do we?

“If something that we didn’t know we had disappears, do we miss it?”

I don’t know what kind of reflection Meredith Grey wanted us to do, but this got me thinking for a second here. Do we or do we not miss something we didn’t know was ours? A hat, a disease, a song, a friend. It depends. People come and go, so do things; usually, we don’t know what we got until it’s gone. But the story changes when we didn’t know we had it — ‘it’ being whatever we had — in the first place. Oh, well. What we can’t see, can’t hurt us, right?


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You know the feeling: the dash appears and disappears, over and over. Again and again. And it reminds me of myself and my own mind, currently filled with thoughts and ideas ready to be typed down and looked at like they’re some solid, palpable, real thing. But when I actually do sit down, fingers set neatly on the keyboard and eyes locked on the screen, all left to see is a white, blank space. No words. No letters. No literary devices. No nothing. So ironic: full mind, empty fingers.

Hey buddy, there’s a line mocking me too.


Music and lyrics

Sure, you can stand under her umbrella under the condition that this misery business won’t go down swinging, sugar. I heard somewhere that tears dry on their own, is that true? Maybe a big yellow taxi will pick me up and I’ll remember how clumsy I felt when I let my dreams be dreams. There’s no such thing as the real world, he sang along to some song… and a way back into love is just hard to find these days. We’ll get stronger when we realise that what goes around comes around, and if we break the night with colour we’ll understand that the headlines are only made by ordinary people. For you I will, because it’s more than words what’s inside! Here comes the sun, shining like a star. But don’t let it linger too much. Back at square one, she’ll notice how broken her choux pastry heart was and she’ll agree with my thought about fluorescent adolescents that woke up upside down at 4 in the morning. For seven days in sunny june I believed that you looked great in my arms. I guess it was my wake up call. It’s no secret, I won’t go home without you. He was so torn on that sunday morning, everything he wanted was to go home. Hey there Delilah, don’t you think that listening to those sweet words was completely crazy? Open your eyes, in 1985 she was your lovefool. I have diamonds on the inside, do you? Geez, my bittersweet faith keeps telling me it was an honest mistake, just like eating glass. But I guess that a piece of me wants a butterfly to fly again, so glamorous in its own true colors

What are you listening to?


Passions: heavily

She knew it wasn’t going to work out this time. How much different could it be from the relationship she just had? But she had enough reasons to answer the question “why she’s gonna get into this even though she knows it’s gonna be as lame as the other ones”, so she decided to give it a try.

She used to tell them to give her a “relationship, not a relationshit”. What difference did it make? It all ended up going astray anyways. It always began with the same fairy tale idea that some guy would become her prince charming on a white horse, that he would rescue her from the dirty dungeons and take her to a wonderful castle beyond imagination. Funny, ’cause instead of a “happily ever after” before the credits, all she ever got was “to be continued”. Seems like the so-called prince charming became a nasty toad in the end.

But she knew that out there, among those 6 billion people in the world, there was someone for her. That’s what kept her going back after so many heartbreaks: the desire for a real, true love, even if that’s a utopic thought. She believed her soulmate would pop up sometime, and that’s why she would try over and over. “You give a little love and it all comes back to you”, she sang along to the Coca-Cola comercial. Yes sweetie, maybe you’re right after all.


Frankie went to Hollywood. What about me?

Let’s get talked about, dear people of the world!

Many singers in the past year or months have become known because of a cool MySpace account loaded with songs of their own. Kate Nash, Colbie Caillat, Lily Allen, Amy Winehouse… Hey, maybe we should all do that: let’s get together and make up songs about lazy brothers, drinking problems and how much you wanna kiss a boy, get somebody to put some chords together and boom – we’ll have songs ready to be uploaded to MySpace and we’re gonna be this close to stardom!

If that doesn’t work out, there’s always the party-animal option: let’s become Paris Hilton’s BFF and rock out every party in California! Oh wait, that means having to walk around without underwear, having to shave our heads and look like a crazy wacko that hits papparazzi with green umbrellas. So discard that if you wish.

Or maybe we could just call MTV and start a new reality show! You know, all you need is flirty, rich teens that like to feud now and then, look clueless and party on weekends, which is not so hard to find. After that, we make a spin-off show with one of those teens, which will become polemic because of some crazy ex-BFF that wants to steal the limelight by making up lame songs and creating a clothing line that sells for under $60. Yeah, that’ll do the trick!

Well… let’s say the above options still haven’t satisfied you. Then you can just become a tree-hugging hippie that supports PETA and goes chasing Anna Wintour with tofu pies after fashion shows, or a bohemian chic trend follower that dresses like Mary Kate Olsen – not forgetting the Marlboro cigarrettes and the Starbucks venti-sized latte on one hand and a very expensive clutch on the other – or a former personal assistant of a “boss from hell” that wrote a book and made it a big hit. Now that ought to get you on page six of every newspaper, riiiight?

Let’s all forget about going to college and getting stressful jobs in the future. No more studying or worrying about our GPAs or the upcoming science fair! The real deal now is to have stars revolving around your name, papparazzi chasing your car and having to see your own face splashed across some gossipy magazine cover. Come on, let’s go to Hollywood and become famous!!!