Yet again

Every ashtray tells a different story. Some tell the adventures of a group of friends, discussing their latest achievments or simply unwinding after a long and tiring week. Some recite the poetry of the lonely thinker, plotting away while the cigarette smoke twirls through the air, forming a neverending pattern in the mind of our hero. But only one will tell you the tale of the boy (should I say young man) with no heart, just waiting for the smoke to fill his lungs and suffocate his pain away...

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and maess you up. You build all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you.
They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore, Love takes hostages. It gets insido. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like "maybe we should be just friends" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul hurt, a real "gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart" pain.

I hate love.

I've been lying down for hours now. It's 5:35 and there's not much I can do. You know the worst part about my situation is? I'm in the same room as my parents. The keep looking at me, and I can't help but look back and try to not cry or scream. Their eyes are focused on me and ther mouths are wide open. There's the strong scent of blood and I feel so paralysed with fear.

Here's the thing: the second I make any hint that I'm not asleep anymore, I'm completely fucked. I will die and there's nobody around to save me. I've been trying to thing of a way out but the only idea I have is to rush for the door and run outside the front door and scream for help, hoping any neighbours hear me. It's risky, but if I stay here, I'll surely die. He's waiting for me to wake up and see his masterpiece.

You're probably wondering what's going on. I do get ahead of myself sometimes.

About three hours ago, I heard screaming from the other side of my house. I got up and went to check on the noise before realizing I had to use the bathroom. Instead of doing the smart thing and investigating, I used the bathroom first. I could've gotten myself killed right then for my stupid actions. But I actually did my busines and took a peek outside the bathroom. There was blood on the carpet. I got very worried and ran back to my room, hiding under the sheets like the pussy I was. I tried to convince myself to go back to sleep, that it was just some really vivid dream or something.

Then I heard my bedroom door open. Like the terrified child I was, I peeked from under my blankets to see what was going on. I could something dragging my dead parent into the room. It was not human, I can tell you that. It was hairless, with no eyes and no clothing. It walked like a caveman, with its back slouched as it dragged my parents, but this thing was muchs smarter than any caveman, it was aware of what it was doing.

It propped my dad up on the edge of my bed, and mande him face me. Then, it sat my mother down in the chair and positioned her towards me as well and started rubbing its hands upon the walls, staining them with blood and then drew a circle with an inverted pentagram in it. This thing had made what it would probably call a masterpiece. To finish it off, it scribbled a message onto the wall that I could not read in the darkness.

It then positioned itself under my bed, waiting to strike.

The scariest thing is now, my eyes have adjusted to the darkness since then and I can read the message on the wall. I don't want to look at it, because it's terrifying to think about. But I feel I need to see it before I'm killed.

I peek at the creature's masterpiece.

"I know you are awake"

Kisetsu wa odayaka ni, owari wo tsugeta ne
Irodorareta kioku ni yosete sayounara
Ai wo kureta ano hito wa, kono hitomi ni yurameite ita

*POP*

-What was *that* sound?
-Oh, nothing, that's just the sound of the bubble bursting.

Love is

Giving someone the power to hurt you terribly and hoping they don't, and we never trust anyone as easily as we trusted the first time.

















Please, don't.

Yup, I guess I am.

It's friday, am I in love?

First chill, then stupor, then the letting go

Hmmm... Tenho a sensação que já passei por isto. Deixa cá ver... Yup! Como dizem os americanos, "Been there, done that!". O problema é que embora estas paisagens não sejam estranhas para mim, não é fácil passar por elas... Por muita experiência neste campo que alguém tenha, por muitas vezes que alguém tenha passado por isto, nunca é fácil seguir em frente.
Tudo começa com aquele sentimento. Ah, aquele sentimento... Aquele sentimento que nos faz não querer dormir, pois finalmente, a realidade é bem melhor que o sonho! Faz-nos sentir invencíveis, livres, completos e outra data de clichés! Ehr... Esperem aí, eu disse invencíveis? Pois... Não é bem assim... Podemos sentirmo-nos livres e completos, mas, na verdade, estamos mais vulneráveis do que nunca. E aí começa a descida... Tudo começa de uma maneira simples: uma confissão, uma explicação, uma pequena frase... Sentimos o nosso mundo a desabar, a melancolia a instalar-se, um pequeno grito calado bem dentro de nós. A partir desse momento, não somos senão uma ínfima parte do ser que éramos. Pensamentos estúpidos começam a inundar a mente: "Estou farto desta porcaria", "Esta merda está sempre a acontecer-me", "Odeio-a", "Odeio-me".
Passado algum tempo, começamos a perceber que não podemos ficar assim, não podemos ficar a vegetar, temos de nos levantar, temos de agir! Percebemos que precisamos do velho "Eu" de volta, que precisamos do "Eu" alegre, não do "Eu" melancólico, do "Eu" engraçado, não do "Eu" apático. Percebemos que temos de parar de amuar e de remoer paixões perdidas. Percebemos que temos de seguir em frente. O caminho não será fácil nem curto, por isso é melhor começar já.
Como todas as caminhadas, esta começa com um passo e três simples palavras.





Vamos a isso.

'Tis better to have-

Oh, put a sock in it Tennyson!

Os ponteiros do relógio
movem-se apressados
e impiedosamente afastam-me
do minuto combinado.
Querem de mim zombar,
porque os olho sem parar.

Cada vez que chega alguém
consigo ouvir tão bem
o bater do meu coração
distraído pela ilusão.
Apesar de seres tão diferente,
confundo-te com toda a gente.

Meu amor...que vontade de te ver!
Que desejo de envolver!
Eu sei que enfim virás;
não importa se tardarás.
Até sei como explicar,
sorrindo ternamente,
o que te fez demorar
e me deixou impaciente.

Entretanto, pouco a pouco,
vão-se as luzes apagando...
É que o tempo foi passando
e eu fiquei aqui sentado.
O sorriso que eu tinha no meu rosto
está apagado...
Lentamente, resignado,
ergo, enfim, o olhar
e vejo no céu as estrelas
que por mim vieram chorar.
Até elas se comovem
com a tristeza que vêem!


A pedido de alguém muito awesome! ^^

Ai ai...

Quarta feira, quarta feira... traíste-me sua pega! Eu a pensar que me ia divertir à brava e afinal... Mas não irei divagar. Estou aqui porque quero fazer algo... Mas não me lembro o que esse algo é!

8:25- Os meus pais e irmão saíram de casa, deixando-me sozinho. Awww yeaaaaah...

8:36- Vou tomar os meus comprimidos: Aspirina C e Antigripine ftw!

8:37- De volta para a cama. Os mais sinceros "Parabéns!"ao gajo que inventou o colchão.

9:05- Espero que esta porcaria passe depressa... Fico a ver televisão e a lurkar o /b/.

10:36-"Não sejas tão preguiçoso, sai da cama!", diz-me a minha mãe ao telemóvel. Epá... Não quero!

11:40- Mais televisão e /b/. Muito bom.

12:36- A minha mãe chega a casa. Felizmente não tenho de fazer o comer.

13:09- "Estás a ficar melhorzito." Gostava de estar completamente recuperado amanhã.

13:48- Fiquei a dever um carrinho de brincar
ao meu irmão.

14:20- Uma sessão de televisão seguida por duas de sorna.

17:36- Acabei de acordar. Quem me dera beber uma mini...

18:41- Venho largar os meus queixumes no blog por estar doente e por ter de fazer uma coisa sem saber o que é!

E por hoje é tudo! O mais engraçado... É que tenho a sensação de ter feito aquilo que deveria ter feito, mesmo sem saber que coisa era. Strange...

Supersonic, Electronic!

Electronic, Supersonic!



P.S.: Fui olhado por dentro! =3

Therapy

I wrote this song about you
I wrote this song about you
Just to let you know that I hate your guts
And I think you suck
I wrote this song about you
I wrote this song about you
Just to let you know that I hate your guts
And I think you suck

I hate the way you look
(You make me sick)
I hate the way you talk
(I wanna punch you in the face)
I can't stand you at all
(You drive me insane)
Why won't you go away?

I wrote this song about you
I wrote this song about you
Just to let you know that I hate your guts
And I think you suck

This is your song
Congratulations
You're the inspiration
I hate you so much
That I wrote this song
Congratulations
You're immortalized
I hate you so much
I hope you fuckin' die

Reel Big Fish - Your Guts (I Hate 'em)


Ainda bem que gostaste :)

Thanks

It's 3 AM on Halloween night and you and your friends been up all night on a horror binge. You've watched your favorite scary movies, read your favorite scary stories, and even attempted the old "Bloody Mary" trick in your mirror. After your friends leave, you stretch and yawn, deciding now is about the time to hit the hay, so you move into your bedroom and lay down to sleep.

After awhile, however, you realize that you can’t get the images of some of the fictional creatures you saw on your television out of your head. "Meh...I’m going to hate myself for this tomorrow," you say aloud as you flick on your bedroom lamp, knowing that having a nightlight used to help get rid of your nightmares as a little kid. Within minutes you're close to sleep, snuggled up comfortably under the blankets with your eyes closed and more pleasant thoughts on your mind...

...that is, until you detect something moving in front of the light, casting a shadow over you. You blink, beginning to turn towards the lamp before a rotting hand grabs hold of your shoulder. "Thanks for turning on the light, I was having trouble finding you in the dark."

They've done it again!

Hoje estava eu na sala metido na minha vida com o portátil ao colo, quando entra o meu irmão e decide por no [sarc] magnífico canal que é a TVI [sarc/]. Estavam a dar os Morangos com Açúcar, faltando pouco tempo para acabar. Eu lá ignorei o filho bastardo de Satanás e continuei com o nariz enfiado no portátil a jogar Medabots (Emuladores: a melhor invenção desde o coça costas). Entretanto, a tortura deu-se por terminada com a chegada dos créditos. Bem... isso era o que eu queria, pois quando chegaram os créditos, deparei-me com algo simplesmente... ehr... 'Tão a ver?! Nem tenho palavras para descrever isto... Vou mas é meter os créditos para verem/ouvirem com os vossos olhos/ouvidos.




Então? A música parece-vos familiar? Ainda não? Porra Catarina, és mesmo lenta... (haha, é do melhor picar-te)




Aqui têm a única, a original, "Mony Mony" do Billy Idol.

Sinceramente, não quero saber se eles têm ou não autorização para a alterar desta maneira, pois mesmo que a tenham, continuo a ficar lixado. Ando simplesmente farto destes "músicos" de hoje. Não existe nada de novo, a música e sempre a mesma e o que me lixa mais é o facto de eles se aproveitarem de músicas famosas (exemplo acima mencionado) para "apanharem boleia". Tou farto de samples e de músicos que fazem samples.



My two cents...

It's funny

It's funny how hello
Is always accompanied with goodbye.
It's funny how good memories
Can start to make you cry.
It's funny how forever
Never seems to really last.
It's funny how much you'd lose
If you just forgot about your past.
It's funny how "friends"
Can just leave you when your down.
It's funny how when you need someone
They're never around.
It's funny how people change
And think they're so much better.
It's funny how many lies
Can be packed in one "love letter".
It's funny how people forgive
Even thought they can't forget.
It's funny how one night
Can contain so much regret.
It's funny how ironic life turns out to be,
But the funniest part of all,
Is that none of that's funny to me.

Alone again

Naturally.

Já ando a ficar farto desta merda toda... O que tu me fizeste foi muito mau... Depois quem se fode é o mexilhão... Pronto, pronto o caralho!

I really like you. I do. You're so nice, and sweet, and you listen to all my problems and respond with the appropriate compliments. But, well, I don't really see a relationship in our future. It would be terrible if we let sex destroy this great friendship we have where I get everything I want and you get nothing you want. Don't you think?

I knew you would understand. You always do.

We're so perfect as friends, you know? I can tell you anything, and you know you can always come to me anytime you need to hear me bitch about work or how ugly I feel. You wouldn't want to ruin a friendship like that just so you could be my boyfriend, and have me look at you with desire and longing in my eyes, if only once—would you? Of course not. Well, if we started dating, it would only complicate this wonderful setup I've got going here.

It's just…you're like my best friend, and I would hate for something you desperately want to change that. I mean, sure, we could go on some dates, maybe mess around a little and finally validate the six years you've spent languishing in this platonic nightmare, but then what? How could we ever go back to the way we were, where I take advantage of your clear attraction to me so I can have someone at my beck and call? That part of our friendship means so much to me.

No. We are just destined to be really, really good friends who only hang out when I don't have a boyfriend, but still need male attention to boost my fragile and all-consuming ego.

Anything can happen once you bring romance in. Think about how awful my last relationship was at the end, remember? The guy I'd call you crying about at 3 a.m. because he wouldn't answer my texts? The guy I met at the birthday party you threw me? I had insanely passionate sex with him for four months and now we don't even talk anymore. God, I would die if something like that happened to us.

Plus, ick, can you even imagine getting naked in front of each other? I've known you so long, you're more like a brother that I've drunkenly made out with twice and never mentioned again. It'd be way too weird. And if we did, then whenever you'd come shopping with me, or go to one of my performances or charity events, or take me for ice cream when I've had a bad day at work, you'd be looking at me like, "I've seen her breasts." God, I can't think of anything more awkward that that.

Oh, before I forget, my mom says hi.

Anyway, you would totally hate me as your girlfriend. I'd be all needy and dramatic and slowly growing to love you. If I was your girlfriend, I would never be able to tell you all about the other asshole guys I date and pretend I don't see how much it crushes you. Let's never lose that. That's what makes us us.

Don't worry. You're so funny and smart and amazing, any girl but me would be lucky to date you. You'll find someone, I know it. And when you do, I'll be right by your side to suddenly become all flirty and affectionate with you in front of her, until she grows jealous and won't believe it when you say we're just friends. But when she dumps you, that's just what we'll be.

Best friends. Friends forever.

Ah- Kimi ni fureru dake de kokoro wa hazunde
Ah- kimi ni fureru dake de boku wa mitasareru
Ima wa tada kono kimochi wo tayasanai you ni
Kimi wo tsuyoku dakishimeru yo Dakishimeru yo

Hey, look

Ehr...I have a crush on you.

Harmonias e tal

B-"Onde fica a quinta do Ré?"

R-"Ficas para os lados de Cacia."

B-"Não me faças ir para Lá!"

R-"OFá, não sejas assim!"

B-"Tem Dó de mim..."

JL-"Olhe, guarde essas piadas para Si."

B-"Sim, vai apanhar um bocado de Sol."

R-"Porra pá, porque é que toda a gente cai em cima de Mi?!"

I am your guardian angel

And I am always with you.
I was there from the time you were born. I stood in the delivery room, staring down at you before you could even open your eyes to see me. Your parents, relatives and doctors couldn’t see me there, in the corner, watching you with cloudy eyes, but I was there from the time you were born.
And I followed you home.
I was with you always, your constant companion. You played with your toys alone while I stared from all angles in nearby mirrors; my matted, clotted hair with oily sweat that hung off my dented forehead like glue. I was always your constant companion, drifting behind your mother’s car on your ride to preschool. You alone in the bathroom, but I was on the other side of the door, wind whistling through the bruised hole in my throat. My arms twisted and hanging in their sockets as I stood hunched on the other side of the shower curtain. I wait and follow you. I follow and drift behind you.
I’m not seen. I’m almost not-there in light. You never saw me that morning as I sat across from you at the breakfast table, a shiny red clot hanging from an empty tooth socket as I gaped grotesquely at you. I wonder sometimes if you know I’m there. I think you are aware, but you’ll never understand just how close I am.
I spend hours of your day doing nothing more than breathing in your ear. Breathing – gagging, really.
I crave to be close to you, to always wrap my crippled arms around your neck. I lie near you ever single night, cloudy eyes staring at your ceiling, underneath your bed, at your sleeping face in the dark.
Yes. You caught me staring occasionally. Your parents came running down to your room one night when you screamed. You were just beginning to talk, so you were only able to cry out “Man! Man in my room!” You thought you’d never forget the sight of me, with my collapsed jaw hanging to my chest, swinging back and forth. I sank back into your closet and your mother was unable to see me though you pointed and pointed and pointed. You thought you’d never forget when they left that same night. You saw the closet door crack so softly and me crawling across the floor to your bed on all fours, shambling in jerking movements as I pushed myself under your bed on disjointed limbs.
You learned a new word for me: boogeyman. Not quite the monster you thought I was. I’m just waiting and following you always, touching your face with my knotted fingers as you sleep.
You’ll see me again soon. Any day now, I’m coming, blunt and brutal. One day you’ll walk across the road and – I believe I’ll plow into you with loud roar and a screech.
You rolling on the pavement, rolling under wheels, bluntforce metal fenders and my fingers touching your face again and again.
As you stare up from the cold pavement with cloudy eyes; your matted, clotted hair hanging in your face and your jaw unhinged and swinging to your chest.
You’ll see me approaching.
No one else will see me. You will stare past them into my eyes and I’ll leer down at you. For the first time in our life, something like a smile will come over my face. You’ll swear you’re looking into a mirror as clotted red bubbles from our mouths.
I’ll lean down, past the doctors and the oogling people and pick you up in my crooked arms.
Our faces will touch. My wings will unfurl. And then you’ll have to follow me.
And I am always with you.
I am your guardian angel.

'Nuff Said

Jimmy Fallon sucks!

I miss you Conan...

Thanks /b/

You guys are awesome. =)

Just a little head's up

You can steal her away in the dead of night.


Offer her the sun and the moon and the kingdoms bellow...



But try as you might, she will never feel the way you feel for her.

-It's so great that you're a romantic. You're so good to me. No guy as ever treated me as nice as you. I feel bad for you, though.
-Hmmm?
-It's gonna hurt like a sonovabitch when I decide to leave you for some manipulative bad boy.

I am alone in this accursed void. I know I am dead, but I can't tell for how long. It wasn't the fact that I am dead that has me depressed, but rahter the fact that I didn't get the chance to say goodbye. She was the love of my life. We met young and became unseparable. And soon that young love became so much more.
I spent so long just wondering how she handled the news of my passing, lost in my own thoughts, that I didn't even notive that cloaked figure aproaching me. It told me, that being one of good intente, I could have a final wish. I wished I could be in her dreams always. To be there when she had to spend her nights alone. We would be always together. After I made my wish, I felt tired and heavy. I couldn't help but close my eyes.
When I woke up I could see her face. Her eyes were full of tears and she seemed to look right through me. I tried to reach for her, to give her comfort, but the world shattered as she awoke from her dream.


Again and again I tried.



Night after night.


Her reactions only worsened... She would only repeat the words "No. He's dead" and "Leave me alone!".
I was hurting her. Bu trying to be close to the one I could never leave I was hurting her. I tried to run, I tried to leave her mind.


But there was no way out.


Eventually, she stopped dreaming entirely. I dind't need to be told what that meant. I drove her to forsake sleep entirely. But not a thing could have prepared me for what came next...

I was alone again in the void, that frightening place where time stands still. And then I heard her voice.

Do you know what you drove me to?

She turned to the cloaked figure and asked for her wish...

I want to be free of you!

And then she departed. For an eternity I would be without her...












I am alone in this accursed void. I know I am dead, but I can't tell for how long...

Quando morrer

Quero que uma das seguintes músicas seja tocada enquanto estiver a ser enterrado:

• Another One Bites the Dust - Queen
• Jitterbug (Wake me up, before you go-go) - Wham
• YMCA - Village People
• Let the Bodies Hit the Floor - Drowning Pool
• You're as Cold as Ice - Foreigner
• Bright Side of Life - Monty Python
• Go to Hell - Alice Cooper
• Return to Sender - Elvis
• Killed by Death - Motorhead
• Celebration - Kool and the Gang
  
• Stayin' Alive - Beegees
• Living in a Box - Living Colour

Se eu for cremado, as opções são:

• Burn, Baby Burn! - Ash
• Through the Fire and the Flames - Dragonforce
• Ring of Fire - Johny Cash
• Firestarter - Prodigy
• Light my Fire - The Doors
  
• Toda a gente a cantar até a cerimónia acabar " THE ROOF, THE ROOF, THE ROOF IS ON FIRE! WE DON'T NEED NO WATER, LET THE MOTHERFUCKER BURN!"

Se for um funeral marítimo, talvez escolha a "Under the Sea" do filme da Pequena Sereia...

Mas não sei, já me dou por contente se aparecerem pessoas no meu funeral...





(Doin' it for the lulz...)

Be polite

Shut the fuck up

Procrastination

I do it right.

Foda-se mais o caralho do tempo e da constipação...

-É o fim do mundo.
-De cuecas.

Três da manhã

Sempre três da manhã...

I know that she's playing with me

But that's ok cause I've got no self-esteem.

Gotta get your groove on!

Como já sabem, sou, com muito orgulho, baixista, ou seja, toco o instrumento mais awesome do mundo. Logo, eu sou awesome. Mas não estou aqui para dizer o que toda a gente já sabe. Vou falar-vos das vantagens de ser baixista.

• O baixo é tão awesome que quando a corda parte, leva tudo a frente.
• Quando a corda parte, podes usá-la para fazer um colar com um dente de javali/tubarão/jaguar para mostrar o quão awesome/kickass/badass tu és.
• Quando mostras as cordas parecidas, as pessoas olham para ti com uma mistura de horror e admiração que um guitarrista nunca irá conhecer.
• Um pequeno toque no baixo faz qualquer mulher gritar de entusiasmo. Baixo é sexy.
• Basta um slam no Mi ou no Si para calar a plateia toda.
• Se der para domesticar um guitarrista de modo a tocar uníssono connosco, o som fica awesome. (Se não der, toda a gente fica a saber que o guitarrista está a tocar ou demasiado depressa ou demasiado devagar).
• O baixo é o instrumento mais facil de afinar, com excepção do vibrafone, que não precisa de ser afinado.
• Com os calos de baixista, podes tirar as travessas do forno ou do microondas sem usar luvas. Toda a gente fica a pensar que és estranho, mas no bom sentido.
• Quando tiras o baixo do gig bag, a resposta é um sonoro "whoaaa...". Os guitarristas só conseguem isso com cores berrantes.
• O baixista já impressiona só ao ficar quieto no fundo do palco. Se dá dois passos para a frente numa passagem musical, o público fica doido e esquece-se dos outros membros.
• Os bateristas adoram-nos.
• As vocalistas amam-nos.
• Os guitarristas invejam-nos.
• Os pianistas tentam substituir-nos, sem sucesso.
• O som do baixo é sexy.
• A aparência do baixo é sexy.
• As mãos do baixista são firmes
• O baixista é sexy. ( Logo, eu sou sexy)
  

Por fim, a melhor de todas...

• Os baixistas têm o comando da banda nas suas mãos. Se o guitarrista ou o pianista se enganam ou desafinam, no máximo ouve-se aquele barulhinho dissonante e um pequeno riso da plateia, mas o espectáculo continua. Agora, se o baixista erra, jasus... Podemos ver a expressão na cara das pessoas a mudar, toda a gente a tapar os ouvidos para não ouvir o grave ensurdecedor. Os membros da banda ficam pior que estragados: o baterista tenta continuar o ritmo num compasso quase impossível de acompanhar, frenético; o pianista baixa o volume e faz de conta que toca; o vocalista das duas uma, ou gagueja ou fica estático e o guitarrista tenta improvisar e acaba por cair no ridículo (como sempre...). O baixista, pessoa bastante responsável, pega no groove, manda com o polegar na tónica e puxa a oitava com o indicador. Toda a gente delira e o baixista, como sempre, é o maior. E awesome. E sexy.
  

Bah...

Não tenho tido pachorra nenhuma para actualizar o blog... Estes momentos têm sido mesmo daqueles em que a única coisa que apetece fazer é deitar-se em qualquer sítio (chão, terra, cama, sofá,tudo!) e simplesmente olhar para o vazio, para o infinito, e pensar... Só pensar... Pensar nos tempos onde tudo era mais simples,nos tempos dos baloiços e dos balancés,nos tempos onde não existiam preocupações, nos tempos onde um beijo da mamã curava todas as maleitas, nos tempos onde o vô contava as suas aventuras e desventuras da infância, nos tempos onde o papá era o maior e dava cabo de todos, nos tempos onde a comida da vóvó era a melhor do mundo... De repente, sinto o peso da realidade na minha cabeça. Os tempos simples sem preocupações são substituídos por tarefas atrás de tarefas, os baloiços e balancés estão enferrujados, os beijinhos da mãe são motivo de vergonha em público, tudo o que resta do meu avô são as doces memórias e o seu clarinete, o meu pai está demasiado estafado porque trabalha constantemente, e raras são as vezes que estou com a minha avó. Enfim, é como diz o magnânimo José Cid: "(...)o tempo que passou, não volta não.".



P.S.: Escusado será dizer, hoje sinto-me nostálgico.

P.P.S.: E quê? Iogurte!

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

Aranha no tecto do meu quarto
?- 07/01/09

Bah...

Olhar para a aranha que está no meu tecto cansa...

All right!

I has blogspot! =D