domingo, 22 de novembro de 2009

It has been a while, has it not, my dears?

Ridiculous, utterly absurd, this absence of mine... However, there may be an explanation that could, eventualy, put you at ease with my disregard for this ritual of personal exposure, as it is, to my mind, completely plausible and even understandable: I couldn't be bothered to give a fuck!

But I've decided to return and waste a tad bit more of my time, and more importantly, yours. And for that I am truely and sincerely sorry, mates. But I just couldn't resist that insane urge to scatter my thoughts around, with no actual purpose other than feeling like doing so.

Curiously (maybe not), nothing important or of great philosophical importance will arise from this sudden outburst of typing diarrhoea .

I guess I just like to fuck about with words, once in a blue moon.
Truth be told, I could dissert on relevant matters, on annoying events or actions, on surprising outcomes or even on insignificantly significant occurrences. Rest to sure, I will not. Some other bloke, or lassie will, as they see fit. Not me, not now.

I would just like to add, before stopping my fingers from moving across this keyboard and pressing the right -or wrong- keys, that Innocence, that evil and intransigent mistress, the ultimate ball and chain, is dead! Tarred and feathered, burried alive.

Now, something worth reading:

«Here lies Lester, more four slugs from a forty-four, no Les, no more

Out in Arizona just south of Tucson
Where tumbleweeds tumble in search of a home
There's a town they call Tombstone where the brave never cry
They live by a sixgun by a sixgun they die

It's been a long time now since the town was a boom
The jailhouse is empty so's the Palace Saloon
Just one look will tell you that this town was real
A secluded old dirt road leads up to Boot Hill

Walk up to the fence there and look at the view
That's where they were hanging eighteen eighty two
It's easy to see where the brave men have died
Rope marks on the oak tree are now petrified

At night when the moon shines so far away
It gets mighty lonesome lookin' down on their graves
There lies Billy Clanton never wanted to kill
But he's there with the guilty way up on Boot Hill»

The Ballad of Boot Hill, Johnny Cash

«And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!»

The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe

See you soon

1 comentário:

  1. Sinto-me quase na obrigação de comentar o teu post; quanto mais não seja para te incentivar a continuares a escrever qualquer coisa por estes lados. Quanto à temática, só peca por só poder ser abordada uma vez, essa liberdade de escrever só porque sim só tem graça, para quem lê, à primeira. Se quiseres repetir a façanha fá-lo, mas a designada "typing diarrhoea", apesar de absurdamente agradável, deve ter temática outra que não seja o "escrever porque não consigo não o fazer" e estou em crer que o hás-de fazer inevitavelmente. Quando deres conta escreves tão fluidamente como diarreia sobre qualquer tema absurdo e com a mesma qualidade e consistência da referida, ou pelo menos foi assim que aconteceu comigo.

    Se ainda não reparaste, actualizei o meu blog também, algo que faço com pouca regularidade e ainda p'ra mais com posts enormes. O último é só mesmo para os fortes de espírito, leituras absurdas da dimensão daquela não são para o comum dos mortais.

    "Em seu trono entre o brilho das esferas,
    com o seu manto de noite e solidão,
    tem aos pés o mar novo e as mortas eras-
    -o único imperador que tem, deveras,
    O globo mundo em sua mão."
    Fernando Pessoa, Mensagem (Infante D.Henrique)

    "Pain is weakness leaving the body!"
    The Soldier

    "You sissified maggot scum have just signed your death warrants!"
    The Soldier

    "You are a maggot hatched from a mutant maggot egg!"
    The Soldier

    "You are a spineless worm! You are a mistake of nature! You are walking vomit!"
    The Soldier

    "I am going to strangle you with your own frilly training bra!"
    The Soldier

    "You know what you and Jane Austen have in common? You're both dead women."
    The Sniper

    "I'm looking at your x-ray and I'm afraid you suck!" The Spy (dominating a medic)

    The Spy

    E já chega por agora. xD