I'll be going away for a couple of weeks. Visiting family for the holidays in the northeast. I've learned that Nana-chan and Thelus will coincidentaly be there as well. It might be nearly impossibe to find a decent internet connection out there, so you might expect a lack of posts... Ok, let's get real, you're already experiencing a lack of posts. Anyway, I'll be back January 6th with a bunch of new stuff to write about.

I am aware that I'm leaving behind my share of unfinished business. But perhaps this time away from it all will help us all think clearly.

And so, I went to a meeting with the curators who organized the student showcase at the foundation. I guess my single word for it is enticing.
Aracy Amaral, art critic; Rubens Mano, photographer by what I gather; and Lisete Lagnado, art critic.
I guess the subject on everyone's head was obviously the alleged Exhibit of Those Who have been Refused. I forgot to post about it. In the night of the opening of the showcase, all students who had their works refused decided to make an exhibit of their own. I see it as rebeliousness against what happened last year, when architecture students made it to the showcase with a realy disgraceful work and were awarded a scholarship. It completely dishonored the name and status of the student showcase, remaining on our minds for a whole year, if not forever. Not to mention the fact that it made clear to us that there is no criteria in the selection of the works for the showcase. And to make it clear, the Exhibit of Those Who have been Refused was created by the students themselves. I would think they are worthy of praise were it not for the fact that it was terribly disorganized. There were students who actualy made it to the showcase exhibiting their works in it. And even students who didn't even enroll in the showcase, and hence hadn't exactly been "refused".
Most of the curators were obviously appauled by it, because it mocked their work. Imagine: you spend two days deciding what will and what won't be in the showcase and then everything you denied ends up being shown anyway...
Aside from that, there were some very interesting ideas about art, about studying art and about selection criteria. But I really don't have the patience to write it all down here. And I don't think you'd be thrilled to read all that ranting either...
My work was mentioned a bunch of times. First regarding the fact that it was figurative when art in my country has neglected figurativism for decades now in favour of constructivist stuff (abstracts... yuck!). Then for the fact that it takes on two very different lines. As I mentioned earlier, Sati's portrait seems to be such a calm little thing against the Virgin and Child's violence. They mentioned other students that enrolled multiple lines of work. All I had to say to my defense was that we're exposed to five or six different teachers every semester with different tastes. One teacher might say your work sucks for a variety of reasons and then the next day another teacher might congratulate you for it. When we present such different lines of work, we're actually crying for help. We need guidance. We want an opinion about what's wrong or right. That's why we're students.
They aren't the first to mention this multiplicity as something to be corrected... Those gallery ladies who took an interest in the portrait said the same thing. It gives the impression that I'm not exactly sure of what I want. And I see their point. I must choose between the dark phase and the clear phase. That's what they're telling me. Perhaps it's time to bring into the portraits the same edgewalker undertone seen on the Virgin and the photographic ghosts... Mix it all up into one coherent, slightly deranged line of work...
Aracy Amaral did describe my work as having a perverse undertone... Thanks! That's what the dark phases are all about...

There are those days I just wish I had a gatlin gun in the back seat...

Just a sidenote:

Pan rides back home with his window open, carelessly talking on the cell phone. A bum walks by. As he notices the driver talking on the cell phone, he walks calmly to the right window and ducks so that I can see his face: a standard black man with huge lips (sorry if that seemed like a prejudiced remark to you...). He mumbles something that I can't understand over the conversation on the phone. I make a pityful face and answer I have no spare change. He speaks again and once again I have no idea what's he saying so I repeat the gesture in hopes he will understand me. With a frown, he makes one last attempt, and receives the same reaction before he can even finish the sentence. Only this time, I finally understand a single word: "watch"!! By the time it all gets into my head, he has already walked away, giving up on a frustrated attempt at robbery...

Ok, disregard this post: it's just family bullsh*t and personal
grudges.

Family Christmas dinner! Yes, my mom's side of the family usually
celebrates it in advance due to the fact that everyone leaves town for
the holidays, like rats abandoning a sinking (pirate) ship... I'd
really like to say that the family dinner sucks, like every normal
teenager who hates family stuff. But then again, I'm no longer a
teenager, and for some reason, I always look forward to it. I guess
it's just my masochistic way of hoping that some day my cousins (mostly
girls a year younger than me...) will stop treating me like an geek.
See, usualy teenagers hate family gatherings because of the adults. I
seem to hate family gatherings because of the "children". Children who
sit on a separate table on the backyard, smoking and drinking 'til
they're talking nonsense. And who talk about sex and relationships in
whispered tones so I won't hear them, as if I was too naive. Heck, I
bet I've got more tricks below the belt than all of them put
toghether...
And since I'm picking on the wounds here, I do seem to recall that
every year they come with us to a place out in the country that belongs
to my dad's side of the family in a city with a thriving night life and
keep trying to loose me as if I was a bother. That's the thanks I
get... A few years back they pulled the most moronic little stunt
pretending to be sleepy and telling me they were going to bed when it
was disgustingly obvious that they were going to hang out in the garage
with a couple of bottles of booze.
I'm not the only one who's ignored like that. There's my brother, of
course, and our youngest cousin, and our oldest one who's some sort of
computer expert (hence, treated like a geek as well). We've had our
occasional paybacks. Like last year. See, they always leave the family
dinners to head for some party somewhere. They pretend to envite us,
but it's so obvious they don't want us around. Last year is was our
turn (me and my bro) to leave them there, mopping up after the
festivities. Eventually, we've learned not to care too much about them
and just ignore them as they ignore us. But if you know me, then you're
aquainted to the way I tend to hold a grudge...

Is it hard to tell I'm on a dark phase??

Go Lioness!!! Four kilometers on the bike! AND NO CASUALTIES!!!!
As opposed to the last lesson in bike ridding where she all of a sudden decided it was a nice idea to ride straight into a thorny bush...

Ooh... Thanks, Thelus, for all the tips on my blog template! I'll fix them all as soon as I can! For now, there isn't much I can do, since my image server is undergoing some changes and is inaccessible at the moment (and it has been for the past month or so... crap!). I'm really thinking about Lioness' idea of creating another blog at iG, where they let you post images from your computer, just to post images and link them to this one. But the little pricks want me to create an e-mail account in order to create the blog. I'm thinking this through, but I'll wait for my Lioness to arrive for more info...

Maristela asked about the other portraits I posted on the blog. Here are the dates of the posts. I've arranged them in the order I painted the portraits.
10/31/2002 --> Mariana, painted in mid 2001
8/11/2002 --> Lilly, painted in early 2002
8/26/2002 --> Lee, painted recently in July or August, I'm not quite sure.

Some important people are becoming frequent readers of my humble notes...
Teacher Regina Johas wanted to know more about blogging to create a blog for our class. Sort of a co-orientation thing. I told her I could help and gave her the address. Next thing I know, I was at the foundation today and Maristela Cabello (yes, the one who introduced me to the gallery ladies...) told me she had gotten my address on her e-mail. Hmm... Any connection?

*Nostalgic* I remember when my list of readers would barely add up to four close friends... I was thinking about signing up for one of those status indicators that show you how many people accessed the site every day. But I'm affraid it'll make my trudging blog even slower to load. Hmm... You guys have any ideas? Thelus says if I give the correct parameters for image size when I post images, it'll load faster... I'm working on it. Also working on Lioness' idea to load my images on another blog that allows images and then link them to this one. But I've had a few problems signing up to that other blog. This'll have to wait for when my Lioness comes back from her trip.

Well, to all of you new readers, welcome to my humble space. I'll try not to brag to much about personal balderdash and stick to the point.

I went to see brother play last night. Every year he plays at this concert given by the institution he has piano lessons in. For the last two years he has played in a duet with father, who also studied there when he was younger. It's one thing to see them play at home (it can even be annoying at times...), but it's quite another thing to see them on stage. Makes me proud!!
Yesterday they played Radamés e Pelé (not sure about the author...). Brother was still recovering from surgery, but he insisted on playing. Although the doctor had told him not to make any great efforts, he said it was no effort to play the piano. I taped the whole thing, fade-in and fade-out included. His hands on the piano holding the very sound itself, the smile on his face when he finished and father across the stage caressing the cords on the guitar. Brother went home shortly after: mom's orders.
Sitting there, listening to all the wonderful music that night, I caught myself smiling. Some styles of music like jazz and bossa nova have a humor to them. It's in witty accords like words said on the exact time for a joke. Or improvised ending sequences that you really didn't expect. It's quite different from the heart-wrenching stuff I'm used to hearing. And I love it!! I gotta find me some of that and record a CD...
A few songs after my brother went home, this kid, roughly eighteen, sat on the piano to play Duke Elington's Take the "A" train (at least that's how they wrote it on the program, but I doubt it's correct...). I think my brother is one of the most talented piano players I know, but that kid really takes the prize. The way his fingers merely bruised the keys and still made them go off was amazing! And his tyle, full of quick smart remarks, amazing technique and a real joy for doing what he was doing!

That was inspiring...

Terribly sorry, Nana. Although you do have a haircut that does resemble someone in the story, you're not in this comparison. That is, unless author Masakazu Katsura decides to insert a character who shares an obssession for anime with Youta, always makes him feel confortable and makes a very cute couple with her boyfriend.

Dadaist revelation IV:

If Pan = Youta Monteuchi, ("yoda motenai"...) then:
Lioness = Amano Ai
Sati = Hayakawa Moemi
Makel = Nizaki Nobuko

It's amazing how most of the things fit...

Tuesday, 8:00 am. Cloudy weather. My brother goes under the knife...

Ever had one of those long phone silences that come after a fight?
You have that amazing squabble with someone over the phone and, after everything is said, person A says good-bye. Person B answers a specific good-bye, in a specific tone that leaves both in a deadlock. Person B expects person A to say something. Perhaps to apologize for something or correct an alleged mistake.
Most of the times this happens, person A has absolutely no idea what does person B expect him/her to say and just wants to end that conversation. But the tone in that good-bye demands that something be said. And person B will remain soundless until person A says it or hangs up the phone (which, in most cases, will be considered by person B as some sort of aggression, insult or others of the sort...).


Should I write this down as a dadaist revelation??

The sickness has struck me once again, I'm afraid.
But I guess this is censored subject...

I'll soon be elaborating the next Surreal revelation.
It's got something to do with the hardships of being a man. And how women seem to think we have all the comfort.

Nana, you'll have to forgive me for these chauvinist insights...

So, I was leaving the showcase, after confirming that they really did screw up as I expected and placed the violent Virgin and Child side by side with tranquil Sati's portrait... It was a good thing though: I had a way for people to actualy compare a work from a clear phase to a work from a dark phase. There were equal praises to both. Methodless seemed to like the Virgin more. And, somehow, her opinion matters to me. We talked a bit about the painting itself, the manufacturing process. I was amazed at the respect I suddenly had in painting. I mean, I had decided never to bring my paintings to the foundation again after all the bad criticism I got in the first two years.The teachers at the foundation had broken me into believing figurative painting was bad. But I never gave up. I have no great pleasure in abstracts. I kept painting at the atelier and never showed another painting again for a whole year. But this year, I had decided I'd enter the Anual with my paintings one way or the other and prove I was worthy. And here I am: two figurative paintings in the foundation's halls. It must be burning some of the teachers like crosses burn vampires.

Anyway, I was leaving the showcase, when one of the prized artists (I did not get the scholarship, by the way...), Maristela Cabello, called out to me. Took me a while to recognize her. We aren't all that aquainted. Come to think of it, I was surprised she knew my name... She said to a group of women standing beside her: "He's Peter Pan" (No, of course that wasn't exactly it, but let's keep it this way in here...). They all greeted me and congratulated me on Sati's portrait. And that's when one of them said she was interested in buying it...
That caught me by surprise. I mean, I had heard these things did take place in the showcase, but I just never honestly believed it would happen to me. The next thing I know, one of them is giving me a card from a gallery and telling me they'd like to know more about my work!! I was flabbergasted! Methodless seemed to be joyful as well. And noticing this made me ever so happy. Among all my classmates, it's her respect that I crave for the most.

Of course, now I'm faced with an old problem: what would be considered a good price for my portrait? No one has ever given me a good answer to this. I'm so aweful at settling a price for things. To me, those portraits are priceless. But, of course, this is pretense. I mean, they're only paint and canvas (and glue, in this case...). I don't know... I'm slightly confused. But I'll definetely be calling those ladies and scheduling a time for us to chat!

Recently, we studied in advertising ethics class the ads created by Oliviero Toscani for Benetton.
And our teacher told us of some of Toscani's thoughts and philosophies. I gotta say I liked it! But one of them called my attention. I had seen it before. It's an ad with a few dozen pictures of genitals, all organized side by side. Men, women, children, black, white, blonde, brunnette, reds, all of them. The first thought that sprung to mind was that it was some kind of identity. Just as any part of the body, genitals have their little differences here and there. Enough to make each one unique in adulthood. And yet, since there are no faces to match with the genitals, we'd never recognize any one of them if we ever came to meet. It's like Gerhard Richter's Betty:


It's a portrait with no actual, useful identity.



After a while, another thought hit me. I was remembering all the ruccus created by the girls at the university wanting to do those Mapplethorpe inspired pictures and the way people reacted when I accepted to pose for them. That and my work with the photographic ghosts and such. It all made me think about the sensationalism around naked intimacy. The way people refuse to be seen naked is as if they were ashamed of their own bodies. As if having genitals was a flaw to be hidden. It turns into a sort of weak spot: to catch a person naked is almost like stealing some great treasure, conquering something from that person, beating that person up. It's some weird sort of childish victory (Ha ha ha, I saw you naked!!). And I had this bizarre idea of creating a cluster of photos like Toscani's, but with full body pictures of me, naked in a neutral pose. The idea behind it is to turn that body into such a common image, that the fact that it's naked will cease to matter. I mean, an annonymous naked person in a picture is just some naked guy/chick. But make it a friend of yours, someone you know, and it's a scandal. Why?

WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH AQUAINTED NUDITY??

More witty remarks:

On a wall somewhere near the art course:
Why do you study if the future means death?
And the answer scrbbled right under it:
To make history...

My advertising ethics teacher (roughly translated):
You weren't born a black man. You have no idea how it weights on your identity.

Ok, I know you're asking, "are there ethics in advertising??"
Hell yes. But there are those who tend to override ethics to gain more recall. It's a troublesome issue...

I don't think I'll feel like eating for quite some time now...

Dadaist revelation III:
Let this be known as the day she set herself free.
Fly, my bird.
There's a time for everything...

Listening to Cazuza:
MINHA FLOR, MEU BEBÊ
[...]
Que prazer mais egoísta--------->What a selfish pleasure it is
O de cuidar de um outro ser---->To take care of another being
[...]
E é por isso que eu te chamo-->And that´s why I call you
Minha flor, meu bebê

Well... I'll just leave you foreigners guessing on that last one...

A teacher of mine had an interesting interpretation of the Wizard of Oz. He was saying that Dorothy lives with her uncles. So, when she goes into Oz to search for the wizard, she´s kinda searching for her father. The wizard is this big paternal figure. She searches for her father because she seems unhappy with her current sitaution, her reality. But when she finally discovers that the wizard is just a big hoax, she returns to that reality. So, in a way, she fails. She returns to where she began, taking with her only the things she learned. I guess it's about growing up. Dorothy wears ruby slippers. Often represented by high-heel shoes. Shoes of a grown woman. But since, they're made of ruby, a transparent substance, it seems as though they represent a dream, a wish. Something oniric. And indeed, when she finally decides to leave that dream, she clicks them toghether: a gesture that clearly means to break them.

Well... I'm still working on this...

My Lioness:
Perhaps this might be something to be written on our little mutual project, but I was thinking: you should reall take a look at Nan Golding's pictures. Ask me about them later on...

Well, looks like I've found another edgewalker.
I visited my friend Lady Visentainer, the Vampiress. She's been studying law and I had only seen her once ever since we graduated from highschool. And now, after that insight brought on by my Lioness about how badly I take care of my friends, I went after her. I barely had any phone numbers to reach her since MY FREAKIN' ELECTRONIC AGENDA DIED ON ME!!!! So I went to her university to try and find her, but to no avail. Finally, I accidentally bumped into her on ICQ and got her phone numbers. Today we met, at the cemetary close to her university (yes, it's grim, I know, but it's a trip we were scheduling ever since highschool...). We talked about oh, so many things. I understood how she seems to be suffocating in the law course, not being able to expose her crazier side. And it felt so good to find yet another edgewalker. The Vampiress seems to be slightly less "on the edge" than me and the Lioness... But just slightly.. I feel like surrounding myself with edgewalkers. A small coven of free thinkers.

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Well... You all know I'm more of a schizotypal guy. But this'll do, I guess...

Post-B-Day analisys:

Making an analisys about my life after definitely enrolling in adulthood...

Although I have no actual job, I believe I'm doing well in all that has to do with my careers. I'm getting respect for what I do as an artist and making valuable contacts for the next years in my advertising career. I'm right where I wanted to be. Now all I need is to put toghether my portfolio and start visiting advertising companies next year...

My family is finally putting itself back toghether. I had a nice chat with my brother yesterday about that. About how we spent a few years minding our own businesses, all four of us, and not having any part in each other's life. The family ran like a company: every day we'd wake up ang do to each of our separate activities and then we'd have a board meeting at night to discuss planning, pending issues and the budget before going to bed. Now that my brother and I are grown up and my parents can treat us as adults, we can start behaving like a family. It's hard to understand and I should really dedicate a whole post to this. But later...

On the other hand, there are two unresolved things to take care of. The first one, I've already began: my health. Been working out every weekend and sometimes in mid-week. But I'm far from having the figure I want. I'm slowly picking up healthy habits and creating a frame of mind that denies any unhealthy vices proudly instead of believing itself to be a looser just because I don't want to get wasted every weekend on booze. Yeah, I wanna be healthy. Gotta problem with that?

The other unresolved thing is getting my friends back. Not that I actually lost them, but it has to do with that post about the last fight with my Lioness. About taking better care of my friends. That's another thing I talked with my brother. He has noticed it too. How we both had this lapse in our education. We never ask for help and hence never expect to have to help anybody. And that's just wrong. Because we don't pay attention to people. We're absent minded friends. But we're both gradually learning to pay attention and understand people's needs, even though they don't show it. We're learning to be kind. But most of all, we're learning to give a damn, to break through the apathy.

Well... I guess that's it. I'm working on my flaws and upgrading my qualities...

Surreal revelations VI:

Imagine that life is like the terrain close to the edge of an abyss. Imagine that in that abyss are all the things that wreck havoc into someone's life to the point where there's no turning back. In that abyss dwell all the socially inapt, the deeply depressed to the point of obsolecense, the people doped to the point of overdose, the pathologically suicidal and other "living hells". Nah... That's not exactly it... Anyway, in that abyss lay all the bad things. I can't seem to explain exactly what are the bad things... so you're just gonna have to figure this one out by yourselves.
We are born on that terrain close to the abyss. And life is spent right there. You and your friends meet each other right there. And life in the terrain is good, simple. You are warned not to go close to the abyss. Most people obey and, since they are so far away from it, they can't exactly see it. To them, it's as if there was no abyss. In fact, they'll insist that they do know what reality is. Others walk straight into the abyss, despite all the warnings, and plummet to a gruesome fate. And still others walk right next to the edge.
I seem particularly interested in these edgewalkers. I don't know if I dare call myself an edgewalker. Most edgewalkers were brought to the edge trying to save friends who ran right into the abyss, the ill-fated. Others simply got curious and went to take a look. Maybe even considered jumping in at some point. They have seen the abyss, they have gazed at how deep it is and they have refused to follow the ill-fated into it. But they can no longer deny the existence of the abyss. They stick around because the edge is where they currently feel more comfortable. It's not the obliteration found at the bottom (?) of the abyss, but it isn't ignorance of it's existence either. It seems to be the more realistic point of view. The place where you can see both the perils and the bliss in life. It's the place where you can see life as a whole (or even as a hole... *cackles*).

Most of their terrain-dwelling friends, the innocent, grow worried to see them striding so close to the abyss and even looking into it. The innocent believe edgewaklers are actually going to jump. Or even that they just might fall accidentaly. The innocent have no idea that edgewalkers can control this situation. One must make up his mind to jump. But all the innocent do, no matter how worried they are, is to call out to the edgewalkers from where they stand. But they never take a step closer to the abyss.
There are, of course, the ones who have gone in aid of a friend who was about to jump in and returned later on to the safe distance from the abyss. People who have seen the abyss but decided to ignore that truth. Just as there are the ones who plummeted into the abyss but made their way back up again, to dwell on the edge.

Anyway, I'm not sure if we can actually judge anyone of those. Maybe only the innocent shall survive. Or perhaps the abyss isn't as deep or deadly as we all think. Which would make the innocent a bunch of loosers who never took all that life can give. Who knows...

As the Foreign elf says, "more boredom... quizzes ensue..."


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Happy B-day, Pan!!!

Okay... I know that looks stupid.

I'll be a year older come tomorrow.
And yet, somehow, I'm taking this lightly. I've always been worried about these spacial dates. And, in being worried about them, I ended up frustrated. I guess I'm always trying to make these dates somehow memorable. When I turned fifteen, I tried to organize a huge party at my place. Hardly anyone showed up. When I turned eighteen, we went to a disco. That was fun. But hardly the ritualistic, memorable birthday I expected for someone entering adulthood. I turned twenty and... well, I can't even remember what I did. And now, another supposed memorable date. But this year, I didn't do anything. I was too tired of being frustrated. I mean, it would take a hell of a lot to make such a memorable birthday party.
I envited some friends to come over to grandma's farm next weekend. We'll have a jamboree. My brother will put on a little musical thing, I'll play out my monologue for the few in the gang who haven't seen it. But we'll keep it simple. I guess I'm learning that birthdays aren't all that huge thing. Specially when you're already in the twenties (Ok, I'll admit it: I sounded like a geezer back there...).

I'll miss my Lioness at the farm. Terribly. She's obviously not going, no matter how much I try to talk her into it. She says she had a few surprises for my birthday. But they'll remain frozen somewhere, for birthdays to come when I'll be single, I guess.

Yesterday, walking through the university, I came across my Blonde Muse. And she did the very same thing she always does when we see each other in the hall: she discretely looked at me ang grinned, politely saying "hello". A while later I was thinking about this gesture. We've talked and met and she sees I'm just a regular guy. But some psycho with a camera influence is still there. Whenever I lay eyes on her, she gets extremely tense. The rest of hers seems to be completely motionless as her blue eyes instantly meet mine and she starts the whole grinning, greeting thing.
Most scorpios have overwhelming presences... And my presence to her seems like something monstruous. A glance seems to be such a blow as to nearly knock her off her feet. That's how frightened she seems.

Latest news from the Showcase:

It seems my paintings have created a sort of uproar among other ilustrators in the art course. See, the foundation has it's own rotten internal politics. Whenever an illustrator, someone who already dominates a technique, starts the art course, he is brought down, humiliated for a year. He'll be persuaded to spend some time doing abstracts or other things out of his interest. By the end of the second year, the illustrator will begin to be respected. My Virgin and Child is so clearly the type of thing that is heavily criticised in the first year. And there it is, on the Anual Student Showcase. Sophmores will have something to rub in their teachers' faces...
One of the students one year below mine has a liking to painting that matches my own and some very simmilar researches. He has his own composition studies, like my Battle for Importance series. And he has this conspiracy theory that in the first year, teachers slightly humiliate all the technical artists to avoid competition or possible student authority figures that could question their authority. I'm thinking this might not be so far-fetched...

By the way, the only one that didn't made it was the only one I really expected to make it: the Battle for Importance series...
Good. It was the least of my favourites.

At around five o'clock yesterday, my phone rang. It was Methodless. My heart raced. I new that call could mean disaster or bliss. She spoke quickly and said her phone was running out of batteries. Then quickly added before the call was unexpectedly terminated:
-"You made it to the Showcase!!"-

Hence, I'm more than glad to inform you fellow countrymen living in my native city, that on the 25th of the present month, my very own Virgin and Child and my latest portrait, Taís, will be displayed for public viewing at the art foundation!!!

Yee-haw!!!!

I did promise I was going to slow down on the posts, didn`t I?
Crap...

Surreal revelation V:
Someone in the art course was talking about the discomfort in that feeling of being watched.
I don`t know about you, but I find in this vigilance a great comfort. I like to live as if I was being watched. We all live as if we were acting out movie scenes. Most of the times, even though unconsciously, we look for the right pose, the right angle, the right lighting. Some people develop that quirk of talking to themselves. Would they actually be talking to a possible spectator?
As that person was ranting about the discomfort of being watched (I can`t seem to remember what brought up the subject...), I was thinking about how completely terrified I`d be if someday I would come upon the complete awareness that there was no possible way anyone could be watching over me. The idea that, if something was to happen to me, no one would know. It`s probably a horrible feeling when you comprehend that you are the only one left.

I`ve began drawing schematics of the influences that lead to my works with the photographic ghosts and to the actual work with animalistic behaviour (graduation work on the updated "projects section"). There are influences dating back to my childhood, my time abroad... you name it!! I guess, even if I hadn`t made it to the student showcase at the art foundation last year, I would have stumbled on this sooner or later. There are things in the schematics that not even the Lioness knows about me!

And speaking of the showcase, I`ve enrolled Sati`s portrait, my Virgin and Child and four samples of the Battle for Importance series. But my confidence is wavering. I`m beggining to get used to the idea that I won`t make it this year. Too bad... I could really use that scholarship right now...
I`m a little queasy over the fact that I enrolled paintings. Last year was all photography. But with photography, I have the negatives, I can easily do them again. Paintings are harder. I could do them again, but it would take so much effort... What if something happens to them? I`m like a father expecting a daughter to arrive from a saturday gig...

Quick little post:

Yesterday, after just three simple lessons, my Lioness rode that bike all by herself.
You have no idea how happy I am. And what it all meant for us both.
As a reward, she gave me a picture of her as a little girl. It's only the cutest thing I've ever seen in my entire life! I fell in love with that picture when we rehearsed the ill-fated Huis Clos at her place. And she left it in my car yesterday, with a thank you note written on the back.

One for my fellow countrymen:




Faça você também Que
gênio-louco é você? Uma criação de O Mundo Insano da Abyssinia

My blog recomendation for this week:
What`s wrong with you people?
She`s got a nice view of things. Although sometimes rather too utopian. Or is it that I have lost hope?

Alas, my Lioness` blog has come to an end...
It was a nice run. And quite frankly, I expected to quit blogging before she did. I guess she just didn't like to be so public. A lot of people read her blog. And it bothered her somehow. I can relate: it's hard to write about everything you want to say when you know certain people will read it and get hurt. She's just no that used to having her AT field invaded like that. Although she does like to invade as much as anyone else.
I admit that, without her, my own blog seems to be obsolete. I mean, after a while, I was practically writting for her. Just as, I guess, she was writting for me. Some of my interest in blogging has faded...
But don't worry: I`m still here. And I'll remain here for a while longer. I still have an urge to write.

I'll miss the Lioness` Kingdom. It was always ranked first on my link box. Even before I began ranking blogs. Usually I`d read it even before I accessed my own blog. She just has such a nice way of writting. So true.
I`ll keep the link on my link box for a while. In memorian. .

Slowing down:

Yesterday I had yet another of those really tense moments with my Lioness. And, as always, I went home very depressed. Usually, I go home and collapse on my bed thinking "tomorrow will be another day and hopefully things will change". And in fact, that other day does come. And that depression is left in second place while I worry about everything else in my life. It isn`t forgotten. Just postponed.
This time, though, it was different. While we were jousting with our words, she said something that has stuck with me up 'til now. Something that hurt. Do you believe a person can be hurt "in a good way"?
She told me that, while she had been depressed these last days (clinically depressed), her friends had all come to see her. Even their mothers had called. They had all left their lives and come to tend to her. And I didn't.
I'm tired of trying to defend myself of these accusations. All I'll say to this is that I was scared. Scared of the fact that most of the reasons she was depressed about had to do with me. How could I help? I had thought that, being aroud her would only make things worse.
Anyway, it hurt me in a good way. Because I spent most of today realizing that I'm so completely and utterly alone in the world because I really don't tend to my friends. I'm the solitaire, the loner. Because I spend most of my days thinking about secrets of the universe, meanings of life and the paths that art has taken that I forget about the ones that are supposed to be the reason I live for. And this thought hit me with such brutal force that I stopped for a moment right smack in the middle of lithography class and though to myself "what a sh*tty life I live". In time, it'll just lead me into being another lonely old geezer full of cats and barely clinging to his own sanity (I mean, is there anything more anti-social than having such a thing as the Council to talk to??).
This has haunted me throughout the day. But you know, it`s a good thing. It means it`ll bug me enough to actually change something in my life. And so, I wanted to propose a sort of "slowing down". I won`t be posting so often now. I want to use some of my time to tend to my friends in the real world. In fact, I`ve just placed this in my "current projects" section: I want to dedicate as much energy and time as I dedicate to art to taking care of my friends, of busted relationships, and getting back with people I haven't seen for quite a while.

This will be my last day of heavy posting...

Just a quick thought that excaped the censorship:

There's something deeply wrong beneath this calm.
I think I've broken her and made my blog rather obsolete. All in the same process. Censorship!?
I guess things are supposed to get worse before they get any better...

Changed the names of the links on the link box. This ought to organize things a little better...

By the way, the recently posted painting ranked number one above all my other portraits. Well... I guess I might have a new champion coming up in a few days. Stay tunned!

Ok... I just spent a whole sunday on my atelier finishing stuff for the student showcase at the art course foundation... And I'm still going back there tomorrow to pick up the stuff I left drying.

I left the atelier today with an awkward sensation. Seems to me I've always had these ups and downs of creative energy. At times, I had many ideas and no inspiration to actualy paint any of them. Then again, at times I had an urge to paint and no decent idea to spend a few buck worth of canvas and paint on. And then, all of a sudden, everything would naturally coincide and I'd spend a wonderful week of artistic production. But it came naturally. Every once or twice, the art course would push me into actually creating something while I'm out of this productive high, out of sync between ideas and productive energy. But most of the time, my production would follow some sort of season. This time, due to the coming of the showcase, production had to happen no matter if I was in or out of the productive season.
I'm not entirely sure you understand what I mean.
Heck, I'm not entirely sure what to think about it myself. I mean, it seems terrible that some outer factor should guide my production. But at the same time, I like the way my days in the atelier seem to pay off when I have this sort of motivation: a single day generates two, sometimes three paintings all at once!
Thinking about this, I've decided to take Methodless' strategy seriously. She has been gathering an enormous amout of info on expos, showcases, galleries and museums to enroll her works and those of whomever is interested. Obviously, we all have to help and research more info. And it all goes to some sort of databank she's building up. Sort of like artists helping out artists. I've come up with about ten decent events to send my works to. For now, they're all right here on my native country. Phase two of her strategy includes applying for a schoarship abroad. That's when it really gets interesting. But they say you need a few expos on your resumé to actually get a scholarship. They have to be sure you're a good investment.
But anyways, for now I just thought it might help my production if I had other events to motivate me like the student showcase does.

Hey!! I finally scanned the picture I took of Mariana, the portrait of Nana-chan!
Behold:



And here's the reference:

From "The things people say" ("Weird quotes" on my link box):

"Why am i afraid of dolls? They have perpetual smiles, that is just unnatural and very disturbing."
Annonymous

Reminds me of Makel, who became affraid of her childhood toy after some very disturbing nightmares...

Remind me to post a bundle of comments to the Foreign Elf once darn freakin' enetation gets back to work...

Outburst of maddness...

And so, it was 1:30pm and I had half an hour to get to the university for one of my classes. And so, just then, the rain began.
And so, my car was dangerously out of gas and I had promised myself I would ride my bike to the university on wednesdays.

1:35 ==> Pan: Heck... I`m going anyway.
Pan packs his backpack with a towel, his notebook, cell phone, wallet and an extra shirt.

1:40 ==> Pan: (Just exiting the garage mounted on his bike) Who am I kidding!?

1:42 ==> Pan: (Soaking and completely careless) WHEEEEE!!!!!!!!! XD

1:55 ==> Pan: (Realising he should also have brought an extra pair of pants when he starts feeling his backside completely wet...) Oh, crap...

2:05 ==> Pan: (Parking his bike near the university building, being watched by nearly twenty people with huge question marks floating above their heads) *wears a fun-loving little smile*

2:06 ==> Pan: (steps into the building and feels that horrendous squishing sound from his sneakers) Crap again...

2:08 ==> Pan: (in the bathroom, twisting his clothes and drying himself when he notices that he left that extra shirt at home...) F*cking crap!!

2:15 ==> Girl who takes the wednesday class with Pan: Nope, no classes. There`s a note on the door upstairs saying the teacher can`t come today
Pan: (Containing himself not to scream this out loud) Mother f*ucking piece o`sh*t!

2:30 ==> Pan Oh well... (Goes out into the rain to jump in the puddles) Wheeeee!! XD

I'll be blunt this time...

You Are A Carnal Kisser!

For you, kissing is just an appetizer - and a brief one at that.

It's not unusual for your hands to wander elsewhere when kissing,

even on a first date.

Truth be told, you much rather be kissed some where other than your lips!



How Do *You* Kiss?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

HELL YES!!!!

You Are a Henna Gaijin!

You're not Japanese, but you wish you were!

You can use chopsticks with your eyes closed, and you've memorized hundreds of Kanji.

You even answer your phone "moshi moshi."

While the number of anime videos you've seen is way higher than the number of dates you've been on, there's hope.

Play the sexy, mysterous gaijin, and you'll have plenty of Japanese meat.



What's *Your* Japanese Subculture?

Right again... unfortunately.

I just had a very interesting little experience...
But wait, allow me to start somewhere else.
I haven`t gotten along with mother`s opinions for some time now. At first, I thought it all came from the incidents with Makel, but I came to realize it started some time before that. Well, never mind how it started. The fact is, although I tend to agree with her most of the times (if not always save exactly for the incident mentioned before...), her opinions always tend to leave me ill-tempered. And I never quite understood why, if I do agree with her.

Anyway, today I arrived home soaking wet from the rain outside. Don`t get me wrong, I love rain just as much as my Lioness and one of the greatest feelings is to arrive home soaking wet like that. But it had been such an excruciating day of traffic-induced stress and shifting weather, that I was terribly worn-out. And then, the first thing she says to me, after barely asking me about my day, is if I had done anything about my car`s flat tire. The last thing I`d want to think about was fixing a darn tire...
See, I think that`s the whole point. Even though she`s right about things (I do need to fix my tire ASAP...), she usually picks the worst conceivable moment to demand something. I can take a hint in these occasions: I know I`m not supposed to be asking for money when my parents are arguing about bills, for instance. But these things seem to completely evade mom`s perception

Updating the "current projects" section:

I finished my video (My reasons for that)!!! Looks great. Almost like the inicial idea.
I also finished 4 Dimensions. But it didn't turn out like I expected...
I took my Photo ghosts out of this section because they're evolving into something not as simple as photography. But I have to elaborate it further to write it down here. It'll probably be my final work in the art course!

As promissed on my tag board:

Surreal revelations IV:

It is logically impossible to fully know someone.
It's actually a very simple dilema. You know a certain amount of things about yourself. After all, you've lived with yourself all your life (duh...). Some people undergo therapy to know more about themselves, supposing it will bring some sort of enlightenment, make their lives more complete. However, you will never understand completely the way you are seen and understood by other people, other entities, simply because they are other entities, a different point of view, another identity. You will never fully understand the impact you figure and your atitudes have on other people. Even if they try to explain it.
Likewise, other entities will never completely know you because, even though some of them might accompany you 24-7, they are not you. They can't know how does it feel to be you. They can only comprehend up to a certain point. Just as you can only know yourself up to a certain point.

Is any of this making any sense?

Dadaist revelation II:
New colours, same old mistakes....

Only this time I got away with it!!!

BLUE
Final Ending Theme for Cowboy Bebop sung by Yoko Kanno

Never seen a blue sky
Yeah I can feel it reaching out
And moving closer
There's something about blue
Asked myself what it's all for
You know the funny thing about it
I couldn't answer
No I couldn't answer

Things have turned a deeper shade of blue
And images that might be real
May be illusion
Keep flashing off and on
Free
Wanna be free
Gonna be free
And move among the stars
You know they really aren't so far
Feels so free
Gotta know free
Please
Don't wake me from the dream
It's really everything it seemed
I'm so free
No black and white in the blue

Everything is clearer now
Life is just a dream you know
That's never ending
I'm ascending

Would you believe it if I told you I just agreed to being part of a photography session done by one of the girls in the advertising course based on Mapplethorpe? Of course you would if you know me well enough... Known for the sexual content in his photography, he's been censored in many countries. Down here, we had his pictures on one of our museums, the one in the park. Of course, it was only allowed for people over a certain age, but the imbecils at the museum forgot that those windows are huge... Needless to say, Mapplethorpe was viewed by a number of young little perverts who didn't understand much, but enjoyed all the body parts...

Right... If you didn't understand what was that lobster a few posts back, don't worry. You're not supposed to. That was just a Dadaist revelation.

See, Surreal revelations are complicated, sometimes oniric logic patterns that happen to me every now and then, mostly product of my schizotypal mind. I write them down here so that maybe you guys will join me in thinking about these weird things. Who knows, maybe we can come up with the hidden meanings of the universe (yeah, right...). They are suuposed to make you think. Dadaist revelations, as the name indicates are simply meant to be chaotic to the public in general. While they do have some logic to certain specific people, they remain illogical to everyone else. So don't try to understand them... Sort of an internal joke thing.

A couple of interesting blogs from the guys at the university:
From the other side
The dreamstone

Way to go, guys!!

By the way, what the heck is massacration? I think I have an idea of who it belongs to...

Ok... Some of you guys have questioned and demanded to know why is it that I write in english if I live in a country that doesn't have english as it's native tongue.

It's quite a tale.
When I began to write this, I chose english for three particular reason. First, because I thing english tends to flow better. And besides, the grammar is simple (for me, at least, although I tend to make a load of mistakes... Sorry) if compared to my native tongue's grammar. Secondly I figured, since this is the internet and what I write will travel the globe, I might as well do it in the language I know that has the biggest number of speakers. And last but not least, there's a thought about my native country. You see, when you mention that you live in a country such as mine, a bundle of mistaken concepts are wrought in the head of foreigners. And I didn't want that screwed up label on my opinions. I just wanted them to be opinions of an annonimous person. So I refused to write any information that would identify me. My real name, my city, my country, my language. After a while, it got a whole other meaning. See, even though I supressed these informations, it ain't hard for a frequent reader to guess what country I'm from. And besides, most readers are close friends of mine and countrymen. So this refusal of mine takes on a more simbolic purpose. And it has to do with the first surreal revelation (dated 9/6/2002). I don't know enough of my country to write about it. I do not pride in being a native of this country. Not that I hate it either. It's just that I see no reason to shout to the world about my nationality. I cannot defend my nationality from criticism, nor would I even want to. At times I have wished that my immigrant forefathers would have docked elsewhere.

Well... I hope this explained a thing or two.

Ok, Ok... Just one more before I quit this for now...







What Planet Are You From?


this quiz was made by The Autist Formerly Known As Tim

Oh, and this one is supposed to go on my Lioness' blog a few years from now...

Ohmygosh!!! Head for the hills!!! It's an avalanche of blog stickers!!
(as if you didn't have enough useless quizzes to put up with...)

(I really wish I could find one that says "schizotypal blogger"...)

And finally, the one I agree with the most:

Yesterday. Around nine thirty, a dog enters the space where we usually hang out at the university. My Lioness immediately jumps up from the couch in panic. She seems to have a problem with dogs. Specifically dogs. And in the open space of the university, they sometimes roam in packs of four or five. Sometimes they show up alone, scavaging for food here and there. They often come to the area where we hang out to beg for scraps. I led the dog outside like any common person would do, pretending I have food with me. Once outside, I came to realize he'd go back in at any moment if given a chance. He had to understand he wasn't welcomed. Thus enters the Beast.
This pup would respect me from the start since I'm a bigger animal. So I blocked his way back in and I knew he would dare not touch me. He just seemed to want to walk around me. With a sudden movement in his direction and showing him my teeth I made it clear that I was a possible threat. He backed out. Being smaller, he wouldn't have the courage to face me. He pretended to forget about the whole thing and walk away, looking back just as he reached the corner to see if I was still there. And there I was, eyes fixed on him. He turned the corner. But you see, he lives in a world where other entities just roam around, having no fixed territory. Thinking I would go away soon, he returned after a minute. And I was still there, waiting for him. He stopped in his tracks. Both of us staring at each other's eyes silently. I grunted anything and strided towards him. No matter what I spoke, since he wouldn't understand it anyway. Just as long as I made some sound to make it clear I was annoyed by him. As I got closer, he squated and then sat down, tense. I moved in closer and when I was just a few steps from him, he lay down flat on the floor, completely motionless but never taking his eyes off me. I grunted something again. Then turned and went back inside. I knew I had made my point.

And why am I writting all this? I guess I was impressed at the fact that I'm beggining to comprehend a more basic form of communication. It works for most mammals. Other animals are harder to figure out. But this has nothing to do with spoken language. It's pretty much a gesture thing. I guess I also want to show to all of you who fear some specific kind of animal that once you understand it, you can communicate on the same level and fear it just as much as you would fear any other common person. They follow very basic principles, yet very truthful ones...

One last thing for today before I bore you to death...

If you've just recently began reading my blog, one post that would be worth while reading is dated 6/7/2002 (fourth post on this page).
It's a list of personal traits.

Speaking about my maid, just moments after I posted my latest surreal revelation, out of the blue, I engaged on some serious political discussion with her. As I said, it's election month again. And among the final candidates, we have a supposed comunist party that has been gathering an alarming number of votes. I believed my maid would vote for them, since she from a working class and all (and quite frankly doesn`t get paid nearly enough by my parents...). But alas, I found out she is completely contrary to the comunist party. Why? She says she couldn`t bring herself up to voting for comunists, because they are supposed to be atheists (Religion is opium for the masses - Does that remind you of anything?). And she simply can`t understand how come someone believes the world was't created by God. What seems most interesting is that she uses words with big meanings like love, souls and the Holy Father much in the same way children speak in heroic speech when they play.

Oh, you've heard heroic speech... It's that peculiar kind of talk that children use in makebelieve. They refer to each other as "friend" or "sidekick" or whatever and usually engage in logics that include saying that they must accomplish something or else "all will be lost".

What I mean is, even though these words of hers seem to make a great speech and prove her faith in religion and all, she has no clue of what she's talking about. A soul to her is just an abstract concept she can't even understand but that gives her a certain feeling and a certain notion of things.
Heck, this thing about religious faith always sounded to me like that tale of The Emperor's new clothes...

Something I forgot to post:
A few days ago, my maid was telling me about her grandaughter. The one mentioned earlier. And so, her little brother finally came home. And my maid tells me that the first attacks of jealousy have begun. She told me that recently, the little girl has complained whenever she sees her little brother drinking milk from their mother's breast. She goes on and cries to her mother:
-"Look at him, mom! He's drinking all my milk! Stop him! There won't be anything left for me!"-
And I'm somehow interested in following the development of this first jealousy into common sibling rivalry, that hatred that brothers share in the first few years of living with each other. And then following hw it develops into a sort of respect or even love for your next of kin. I have some bleak conscience of how it happened between me and my brother. But I'd like to see it happen with other people.

I guess those are the only occasions I wish I could be some eternal creature. A vampire, or a child who actually never grows. The only occasions I wish I could be forever. So that I could every once in a while check on the development and evolution of people with the same fun and ritualistic frequency as I check on new posts on blogs.

Gosh, I just had so much sushi I could spend two days without a bite of anything else...

Who am I kidding...
Where can I find some chocolate?

My hands have come to look old...
I'm still trying to figure out why. Probably because of all the chemicals I bathe them in daily. Querosene, paint thinners, various types of paints, litographic material... I have to start taking better care of myself.
My hands have always had some fascinating effect on me. At times I catch myself staring at my fingers, trying to understand the mechanisms. Or simply glancing at the shapes. There are a number of little scars here and there from a past-paced childhood. And the hair on the back of my hands seems to warn me that puberty has come and gone and I still don't feel like I've grown up... I guess the marvel at my hands comes also from the way I tend to completely forget about them when I draw or paint or create so many things. And yet, they are the catalysts of my creation. They are everything. Without them, venturing into art would be much more painful.
And now they look like they are getting old. Two decades of age and they already start getting this wrinkled aspect... There seems to be some extra lines on my palms. And the texture of the skin feels dry and rough.
But I like this... It kinda reminds me of how much I work. My master, the one who encouraged me to go from drawing to painting, used to have these rough hands. Veins showed on the back of his hands, giving them this strong aspect, like hands carved out of wood, the carving still unaccomplished. Sometimes, when I'm doing something that requires strength in my hands, they look like that for an instant. And I feel wise, a mature artist, like my master.

Silly, isn't it?

For some weird reason, I've been sistematically dreaming about all my muses. Everyone I've painted some day and those I'm about to paint as well. Started out with my Blonde Muse in some sort of graduation. She looked nice, as usual. And as polite as the real girl. Then the following night Nana-chan visited me at the art course, boyfriend and all. Few nights ago, it was Sati's turn. Along with Makel. Interesting to notice that Sati's jealousy towards Makel is something so present in my head that it crosses over to the realm of dreams. Finally, today, my Lioness. On some strange plot about alien invasions and underwater hero headquarters.

And yet more madness:

Surreal revelations III:
The common development of every child undergoes two crucial moments, as seen by psychologist Jean Piaget.
No, wait... Actualy there are three crucial moments. On the first one, the newborn respects no rules. But that is a moment not worth spending much time upon. On the second moment, the young toddler learns to respect the rules imposed by the parental figures and other authorities. This respect deserves some careful consideration. The child respects the authorities not because he agrees with their rules, but simply because they are authorities. And if the child disobeys, punishment will ensue. Furthermore, the child respects the authorities because they are grown-ups, and hence they are always supposed to be right about everything. The rules created by grown-ups are sacred. The child respects the rules because they are rules, regardless of their reasons, and compares these rules to universal laws that must be obeyed. Furthermore, the child does not see himself as a legislator: He can't make rules of his own because rules are made by grown-ups.
Then, around the age of nine or ten, the child tends to start questioning the rules imposed. The child will want to know why must is obedience demanded. It is a time when the child will also learn that certain behaviours won`t even actually be punished. That parents threaten more than they actualy beat. That they bark more than they bite, so to speak. But in questioning the authorities, the child will learn the set of values upon which the rules are based. The child will learn why were those rules created.
Finally, at the end of teenage, the third moment, and with those values well understood and solidified, the child will now overcome his parents and become a fully grown individual. Overcoming the parents means figuring out that their rules aren`t always right, that they make mistakes just like everyone else and hence that they are not the gods we thought they were. It is, in a sense, despising the parents. The full grown adult will now create his/her own set of rules, some similar to the ones of the parents, others completely different. But the fact is, the parental rules will have ceased to be sacred and unbreakable.

Well... I'm having a hard time putting these thoughts into words, but that's basically the idea.

Now here's where I really bit the mushrooms...

In a sense, imagine that society is a child and the supposed gods created by mankind are parents. Human society is just entering the third stage. I mean, we went through eons of having no religion. Then along came all the pagan religions with their view of the world and finally Christianism and the other more evolved religions. No matter what each religion taught, it always had a few basic principles like justice, for example. Only they are not taught bluntly: they're always disguised as something more specific like 'Thou shall not kill'. Civilization follows these principles blindly, believing in divine retribuition. We believe that, if we were to kill someone, lightingbolt would strike us in the instant or we'd be cursed with decades of bad luck or something... Religious commandments are followed just like the child would follow parental rules: simply because they are rules. Imposed by a simmilar parental figure.
Then, after years of exploitation by the Church and other religious authorities, people began to dare and understand that God gives no punishment: we punish ourselves. We learned to fear not the divine retribuition but to fear the real consequences of our actions. We learned abstract thought. We learned that perhaps there might not be such a strong parental figure up there after all. I mean, just go on and do something forbidden by the Ten Commandments.... See? Nothing happened.
What I mean is, now that psychology, sociology and other sciences have come down with the general principles regarding the former religious laws, isn't it time we left the abuse of religion behind us and finally ventured into the third stage of moral evolution, where we create our own moral? Isn't it supposed to be considered retrograde to still abide by preachings?

Well... You got the gist, didn't you? Just... don't crucify me for being an atheist, OK?

I feel that an ancient curse that lasted four years is finally comming to an end.

You asked me if I already knew how long... I think I do now.

I gotta admit, the addiction is back again!!! XD
Just one taste and it all comes back....


What Is Your True Aura Colour?
brought to you by Quizilla

Hell, yeah!!!

Which Element Represents You?
created by kefkafanatic @ mental insanity

OBVIOUSLY!!!!!!!!!! No doubt about it!!

For Nana-chan's friend:
It came to my attention how you wrote that everyone manipulates everyone and someone always ends up hurt. But you see, there IS no other way. Whenever you relate to someone, you have some intention on your mind. You'll want that person to like you, to approve you. You'll only say the things you know that person accepts. Or you'll try and reason with that person so as to change his/her view of things into yours.
Dealing with other people is a caustic thing. It burns you like acid. Because people won't agree with you 100% of the time. And when they disagree, they'll try to reason with you and make you think like they do. And you'll do the same to them. Sounds like conspiracy theory, doesn't it? They deal with this topic marvelously in Evangelion. And I've always felt a bit like Shinji.

Bottom line is: it hurts so much to deal with other people simply because they are other people. And you can't comunicate your exact thoughts to them, no matter how hard you try. There's no such thing as perfectly syncronized minds and hearts (Thank God! Imagine the identity crisis if it were to happen...). There are those days when you tend to feel annoyed even by your best friends...


Well... I don't know if this helped or if it's just a grim vision of things to you... But write back to comment on this. Even if it's just to say you didn't understand a thing.

And I must also find Carol Gilligan while I'm at it...

Gotta find out more about Lawrence Kohlberg's thoughts on the development of morality...

As a sort of test for that, I've ranked my blogs in the link session... This might not have any relation with morality to you guys yet. But perhaps in time it'll be explained.

Yet another interesting blog...
Canção para despertar Sophia




Poetry for my fellow countrymen...
If you english speakers could understand what she writes and what my Lioness writes, you would see how they relate in some way. And why I've written her down on my links section as Another lioness... I just wish I had that tendency to write so beautifully.

And it's election month down here... again...
Ok, this might come as some sort of obvious rant to most of you, but I've been musing about how elections seem to have a double utility in public life. THere's the obvious utility of finding out what everyone thinks about how to run the country or about the people who are supposed to be running the country from now on. But there's another utility regarding every individual. It's sort of a way to be in sync with the collective mind. Think about it: you choose your set of candidates. Governors, mayors, senators, presidents, etc. I know this is supposed to be your own personal decision and to hell what other people think. But what if none of your candidates are ranked as most voted? It's so very easy to think that there might just be something wrong with the way you're thinking about the country's guidance. I mean, it basically means that no one (of very few people, anyway...) agree with you. I don't know about you, but I'd feel a little naive about it if it would happen to me. I mean, I can't deny that other people's opinions sometimes shape my own opinions. Specially when it comes to politics.

Ever get that feeling that you just hopped onto the wrong bus?

And I just got into google and typed "Pan's-eye-view" and found this!!

And this page seems to have been created by a guy named Marcus Pan!! How weird is that?? Seems like Marcus is gaining more and more freedom from the Council and becoming some sort of real entity. Spooky...

And since we're in the mood...




what's your cowboy bebop theme song?

Obviously!!!!

(and you thought I had forgotten about quizzes, right?)

Something just hit me as I was recording my sample of the Cowboy Bebop CD mentioned earlier...
I gave the first one to my Lioness when I made that surprise to her. And she loved it. But it just dawned on me that most of the songs in it have no lyrics... And my Lioness seems to dislike this sort of thing.

Explanations, please!!!

As I've said, it's been lustfuly hot lately.
The morning sun hits the curtains in the living room, throwing a difuse yellowish light all accross the house. It makes the living room warm like a sort of incubator. The bedrooms stand all the way down the hall like vampires shying away from the light. Still they are just as warm as the living room. In my room, light reflected from the stone floor of the lobby is filtered through tiny air holes in my closed window, dotting my room's ceiling in a fading pattern. The fan on the ceiling turns inexorably and yet sluggishly, like fans on suspense movies. Nonetheless, the air on the room has an embracing stillness. It protects me like armor. And I feel confortable: neither hot nor cold. This computer screen shines painfully in my eyes. It engulfs the entire room.

It's just another sunday. The one day I allow myself to rest.

I just felt like writting today...

I got this very strange desire to swim with my clothes on yesterday... Too bad it was late and the pool at my building was already closed. I would have definitely had the guts for it. Specialy since my parents weren't home. It's been lustfuly hot lately...

Blue jeans... The way denim sticks to the body and tends to sqweeze you slightly with the weight of that dense wet cloth... And how it limits your movements a bit while you're in the water... And how it rubs against your skin with that marvelously rough texture.

Hmm... I wonder were are my old blue jeans...

I guess, when it comes to swimming, I like the opposites. Swimming with clothes on is just as marvelous as skinny dipping.
Enough of these silly rants...

Just a note:

Interesting writting style ===> Angel with a scythe

Yesterday I did something that really made me proud... I went all the way to my Lioness' place to pick her up and take her to the university. Attached to the back of my car was my bycicle. She understood at once what my surprise was all about when she saw it: I had decided to teach her how to ride.
I thought it was the least I could do after my latest screw up. That and a frustrated attempt of making a porcelain mask of her. I didn't know portraits where so hard to do in 3D...
I have no idea of how long we spent running up and down the university on that bike. I held her so she wouldn't falland tried to explain how to keep balance on a bike (if you have any ideas on how to explain one of these things you just feel, please tell me!). It couldn't have been more perfect. The day was comming to an end and the sun was already low, making everything sort of yellowish. And we were there, laughing and horsing around. Oh, it could have been better: rain threatened to fall sometimes. But it never did. She calls herself the Daughter of Rain. I close my eyes now and I can still see my feet running on that cracked floor.
When we stopped and she got down from the bike, she looked at me with those huge green eyes glaring against the yellowed light and thanked me. I think my soul just bought it's way to heaven in that instant.
Heck, I'm not much good at writting these moments. They tend to turn out rather cheesy when I write. What could you expect from a guy who spent three years writting about vampires?
The thing is, I just can't explain how good it felt to please someone like that. And to please her specifically. I could live my life for thank you's like that one. I guess, putting things this way, I'm the one who should thank her...

We agreed to practice every two weeks. Our shedules won't allow us to do it more often.

Ok... I think I freaked...
Get ready for a really, really complex post!

Surreal revelations II

Imagine that the whole universe can be organized as a huge, infinite matrix (hold on, I`m not talking about the movie exactly...). A matrix in which the collumns represent instants of time and the lines represent locations of objects in space. Of course, here we`d need some more advanced math to cram height, width and depth into one single number. Now, remember what you studied in basic math at school (if you ever did study matrixes...). Remember that, in a huge matrix, you can use a number of operations to simplify it into a smaller one or even select a part of it and from that, you can discover it`s determinant. And remember that, with the determinant, you can return to the matrix and figure out the numbers you don`t know. Can you understand where I`m trying to get?
So, if you could see the objects in the room you are in and understand their numbers in the matrix, you could maybe figure out the determinant of that universal matrix and with that, figure out locations and times that you do not have access to. Which means, you could reach universal awareness, ability to see the future and the past.
Can you grasp the real importance of that universal determinant? It would be what spawned reality. The one thing that is common to all that exists. The answer to all the misteries in the universe. I dare not say God, because I`m much of an atheist. And besides, God is supposed to be a sentient entity. This would merely be a condition in common to all things in the universe.
Ok... That was the first theory about the reality matrix. A few days ago I read about wildcards somewhere. Professionals who deal with logistics and previewing the future use wildcards as an expression to name those events that no one can foretell. Events that come out of nothing and radically alter the course of history. Wildcards can be marvelos, disastrous or a combination of both. But they are always unpredictable.
I know wildcards have a place in this theory. I just haven't figured out which is it. Maybe to us, normal people, everything is a wildcard. You can't predict if all of a sudden your computer will simply explode. Or if a stray bullet will fly through your window and kill you instantly. There are only a few logical events we can normaly predict. That's why we can't reach the universal determinant. Then again, if the determinant is something as powerfull as it seems, that it has spawned the universe, there are only a few limited numbers of wildcards available to happen because the order inside the matrix must always remain the same. If the order is altered, the determinant is altered. Nothing would be exactly "unpredictabe". And then again, the real wildcard would be something that would alter the matrix and eventually destroy the universe...

...and you guys have no idea of what I'm talking about, have you?

Ok, Evenstar... no more mushrooms for me.

This is a silly little post about something that probably matters only to me. But this is my blog, anyway.

I've worn this iron ring for some four years now. Over time, it became a sort of a trademark for people who knew me well. And I lost my iron rings at key moments in my life. I lost my first one when my relationship with Makel took... let's say... a step further.
I spent some time without my iron ring. Couldn't find one the right size. I had gotten used to not having it on my finger, not fidgetting with it. And a few months ago I bought my third one. Today, as I was showering, I took it off. Spent a few moments without it and then, when I was turning off the shower, there was a brief instant of panic as I felt it's absense. Nice to know I'm used to wearing it again. Feels like I'm myself again.

But I doubt you'll understand what I mean.

On a not so joyous note, ever been in one of those situations where you're just trying your best to make everyone pleased and they're not apreciating it enough? You give up on a thing or two, pretend not to mind when you get slightly screwed up for it and just smile. But in the end, it'll all be worthless. *sigh*

Well, I'll spare you from this tedious ranting of mine. Just some rebelliousness for a post I really didn't expect.

Coming soon, Surreal revelations II...

Ok... I just gotta say, for the record, that I rule!!!

Allow me to explain.
Down here, in the art course, we have to do our graduation work. It`s supposed to be the finest artwork we developed throughout the course, the one you like the most. Each student chooses a mentor to aid him in developing the work for the entire last year of the course. Come November, we present it to a small juri of three professional artists that are not related to the foundation. They will judge if we have matured enough to graduate.
Today, right after being accepted called for ExpoFAU, I just got myself a possible mentor. I showed my photographic ghosts to artist Regina Johas, one of my teachers. And she was so interested that she accepted to guide me if I choose the ghosts as my final project next year! I was actually thinking of Sandra Cinto, mentioned earlier in the blog. She`s so nice... And she could teach me the attention to detail that I sometimes lack in my works. But she has already decided to aid another very promissing colegue of mine. For the record, I guess I`ll call this colegue of mine Methodless. Not that she has no methodology in her work, but because she refuses to do anything in traditional methods like painting, drawing or sculpting. She uses photography most of the time and mixed media. But all her thought processes are remarkable. She has no need for traditional methods.
But I stray from my point. I have a possible mentor!! Yay!

Ok... I know some of you guys have no clue of what I`m talking about... Let`s just say someone big took an interest in my work.

Yee-Haw!!!!
Brace yourselves, lads!
I just got an e-mail from the people who were organizing the student showcase at the university (the one in which I enrolled my Virgin and Child and three of my portraits). It seems they have selected some of the finer works in the showcase ("according to technique and maturity") to participate in yet another expo, this time at the architecture school. And two of my portraits were selected!!!!!!!!! I'm proud to announce that my finest and first portrait, Marina (done for Nana-chan), and my latest and dearest one, Lee (done for the Lioness), will be exhibited at ExpoFAU 2002, starting October 11th!!!!

I'd like to thank the organizers and my graceful models!

Yesterday, just before I left the university, I stopped by to get something to eat. While I was fumbling for my wallet on my back pack, I noticed the precense of a blonde girl right next to me. I turned my head just to get a glimpse: it was my Blonde Muse!!! It had been quite a while, huh? Funny how I didn't notice it was her all at once... She usually seems like such a tall and slim presence. Ok, she was still slim, but this time she seemed so small! She was barely my size.
Anyways, I was wondering what would happen next time we came to meet. Last time we met, I asked her permission to enroll her portrait in the student expo at the university. It was the first time we had talked in a civilized manner... But I thought that would be it. I thought, despite all her sweetness and politeness, my first impressions of a psycho with a camera would prevail. Much to my surprise, this time she greeted me! Greeted with a smile and asked politely if she could perhaps have the picture I took of her...

Certainly!
I'd just have to stop by at the atelier and pick it up. Once again I made a complete putz out of myself trying to juggle my wallet and my notebook so I could wrte that down and remember it (This darn freakin' memory of mine...). Pull yourself toghether, man!!

Lioness was telling me how her bus was stopped by policemen last thursday.
I remembered something I didn't post about in here. About a month ago she came to my place. Since my car was still on the workshop, I borrowed my brother's car. Seconds before I went out, he caught up with me to hand me the new copies of the car license. I took my Lioness home and on my way back, right at the corner of my block, two police vehicles where stopping cars for some sort of routine check-up. Bless my little sibling!!! I could've gotten into a load of trouble that night.

Yesterday I had the stranges flash as I dozed off a few hours before going to the university. I was watching a photograph seen in Evangelion, of young Kaji, Misato and Ritsuko toghether. And in that brief insight, it felt like I was Kaji, my Lioness was Misato and Blue-Eyed Teddy was Ritsuko. Ok, I know the relations between them all seem to match ours. And some of the personalities. But Blue-Eyed Teddy has absolutely nothing in common with Ritsuko...

AAAAARGH!!!!
I mean, crap... I expected my life to be chaotic for a while without my trustworthy secretary. But not up to this point!!!

I hate electronics......

Could you readers of this humble blog e-mail me your data (phone numbers, e-mail adress, home adress, birthdays, etc...) so that I can rebuild my databank?

I'm gathering musics to record my very own selection of songs from the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack. It's going to follow an obvious order, beggining with the opening theme (Thank!), then going through a number of light-hearted little tunes like Piano Bar, Waltz for Zizi, the comical Mushroom Samba, The Egg and I and finally taking a more serious tone with Memories and other sad songs. I'll end with a combination of The real folk blues, ending theme for every episode; followed by See you space cowboy, supposed to be a sequel to Folk Blues that only plays in the last episode and finally Blue, the final song at the end of the final episode. A heart-wrenching combination, just like the ending of the series.

Cowboy Bebop, Evangelion, Makai Tensho...
I really like the ones that end up in such tragedy. In the tradition of the old operas, everyone dies. Those tragic endings stay in my head for weeks, I keep remembering the sadness, the gloomy desperation I feel when those credits roll. And it's quite hard for a cartoon to strike so deep in someone like me.

Thank God for reruns! ;P

Is it just my impression or are there two versions of Ridley Scott's Blade Runner???
We watched the movie in one of our classes at the university. It went OK up to the ending scene. In this version, after Deckard has that showdown with Roy (I always thought that thing with the dove was horribly cliché...), Gaff (the origami guy) shows up and tells him he did a "man's job" or something like that. After that, a sequence shows Deckard picking up Rachel at his place and running away. As they head for the elevator, Rachel knocks over an origami unicorn, a clear sign that Gaff knew of Deckard's dreams and memories, just like Deckard knew of Rachel's. This and the whole "man's job" thing are clues that Deckard might in fact be a replicant as well. The movie ends with a grim vision that they don't have much time left to live, since replicants have a short life span (four years). In the words of Gaff: It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?. I kinda liked this tragic ending. It seems to be way better than another ending I vaguely remember from when I watched the movie as a kid. I remember no clues of Deckard being a replicant (but then again, I was too young to notice these things...) and I remember a scene in which someone tells him, as he is running away with Rachel, that she is a different kind of replicant, not only capable of avoiding detection throught the tests longer, but with a longer life span. But I'm getting confused here... Does anyone else know if there are two endings for this movie?

More movie tips:
If you're the kind that likes deep stuff, you ought to like Grand Canyon, starring Kevin Kline, Steve Martin and Danny Glover (quite a cast, in my opinion...). It deals a lot with the dicotomy of rich and poor. On one end you have Kline's family, led by a lawyer. This family's problems are those of most wealthy families: middle-age crisis, marital crisis, marital infidelity. On the other end, Glover's family fo african-americans. Actually, Glover is the uncle in the family. He takes care of his sister's family (no mention to what happened to the father...). Their problems are quite different: violence in the neighborhood, kids joining gangs and not expecting to live over 25, unnemployment, respect only at gun-point. These families apparently have nothing to do with each other. Until the day Kline's car dies on him in the middle of a rough neighborhood. Glover drives the tow truck that comes to get him in a nick of time, as a gang beggins to harass the lawyer. Only as time progresses will they understand that they can both help each other.
I won't lie to you: it is a trudging, slow movie. You're presented with situations in which you'd expect explicit violence (Kline almost gets mugged in the first ten minutes of the movie...), but in the end, either nothing happens and the person is saved, or violence is left as something implicit, blood stains and evidence. There are two strong scenes of violence. In the first, Steve Martin, a friend of Kline's and a movie producer, gets shot in the leg for his Rolex. It's one of the most vivid scenes of organic trauma I've seen, but I'm not going to write down all the gross details. In the other, a gang drives by Glover's sister's home and shoots at the entire house. The impact in these scenes comes from the fact that violence isn't banalized in this movie. When it happens and you see it, it hits you with the force of experienced, real-life violence.
Martin's appearence seems to be merely metalinguistic. A way of the actual producer to talk about producing. In a way, he justifies the violence seldom seen in the movie by saying that it exists, it's out there. Not to show it would be to deny the truth, to lie.
The movie has other interesting side-stories, like Kline's son, who's growing up and leaving the parents' influence, driving his mother into a middle-age crisis. Her only solace is a deserted baby she finds, and Kline relucts in adopting. Or Kline's secretary, who has an implied affair with the boss, a one night thing, and then goes nuts when he decides not to go through with anything, to be a good husband. The way infidelity is just hinted, not actually shown is marvelous. He dreams with her and you're not exactly sure if it was real. Dream sequences are more food for thought. Oniric reason in a very nice standard.
The soundtrack is soft, very, very nice! I'll be searching for it on the net.

In the end, the movie deals with interference. Victories and losses. Glover speaks of how the Grand Canyon changed his life. Kline explains how a girl on the street saved him and he never got to thank her enough. And when he is saved by Glover, he takes the chance to do it right this time. Kline's wife saves the baby just as the baby saves her. Kline's secretary is saved by a police officer on the same rough neighborhood and a hint of romance is left in the air. She quits her job, which could be considered a loss, but the right thing to do. Glover's nephew is a loss, joining gangs and the stream of violence. On the overall, it speaks about how each of us can make a difference in someone else's life and even questions at times if we should make that difference. As Glover says, sometimes people's lives have a purpose, no matter how bad they are.
On another note, it also deals with the way the cities are becoming more violent, life more unbearable and the future grimmer. And we are getting used to it!! There is hope: if we could just help each other, instead of despising different social classes.

And so, I taught my first drawing class, thanks to my buddy Alex!! See, he studies biology at the same university I study advertising. And they are having this event at biology with little workshops and all. They have drawing classes for biologists so they can draw schematics of their samples and subjects. And when last year's teacher couldn't make it, they called me!
It was quite nice. The first moment made us all rather unneasy. They were all around my age. And it' strange to have a teacher who's your age, perhaps even younger. But then after a while we all got along. I respected them as students, and they respected me as a teacher, asking their doubts and listening to what I had to say. We started off modeling in clay. Strange for a drawing class, huh? I just wanted to convey the idea of thinking about your drawing in terms of a tridimentional thing. You are drawing in 2D, but your object is invariably 3D. And so on and so forth.
This whole drawing class thing was an idea I had a while back. Observing the drawing classes we had at the art course, I could understand everyone's main difficulties in understanding the thought process of drawing. And I'm structuring a course to try and go around these difficulties. Of course, the whole thing can't be taught in one class, and I had to choose what would I teach these biologists and make it really concise. I taught them basic notions of volume and proportion and most of all, I taught them to be PATIENT! Most people can't draw not because of poor hand-eye coordination, but because they lack the patience to pay attention to all the details. Drawings are mere lines, curves and dots. You just have to be patient enough to mimic them.
I finished the class with that old cliché: I do not believe in people who are "gifted". I believe in people who are interested and in practice. Lots of it..
I'll teach another class to a second group this friday. And after that, I think I'll be ready to think about teaching my gang and whoever is interested!