I've noticed how little I actualy look at my brother anymore.
I found a picture of him (in portrait format) on top of the computer in his room. I took it in my hands and stared at it for various minutes. There was this strange sense of looking at something new. I couldn't recognize the brother I had in childhood in that face. He didn't have all those spaniard traces, the strange proportion of his jaw and that huge chin. I mean... he used to be a chubby kid! Now he's as thin as I am! I don't know... I kinda like the sense of wonder in this. Like meeting someone new.
I am perfectly aware that all of this has to do with my incapacity to look someone in the eye for more than a few seconds. I think I wrote about this somewhere in here. I've lived happily satisfied with the mere presence of my brother in the house and in my life, not needing to correctly aknowledge the traces of his face. It's like when you dream about someone. Seldom do you actualy see the person's face in the dream. You just know it's that person. Because of the person's presence, because of the way that person moves. That's how it is with my brother. I simply know it's him. No need to analize that face.

Hmm... feels like the next portrait will be my brother's...

"Você usa drogas??"
Foi isso que um dos meus professores perguntou enquanto discutíamos os meus retratos. Excuso-me de ter que escrever as razões da pergunta. Meus colegas de classe riram sem graça. Quando fizeram silêncio, eu disse que não e que não tem problema me perguntar isso.

Curioso é que, no mesmo dia eu estava deixando um comentário no blog da Lioness sobre isso.
Admito que eu tenho medo de drogas. Aliás, antes de sequer começar a escrever sobre isso, é bom eu deixar claro que também não sou nenhum paladino contra drogas, não vou ficar aqui pregando e tentando convencer ninguém a largar nada. Mas sim, eu tenho medo do que elas fazem ao corpo a longo prazo e por isso, por mais que eu simpatize com a tentativa das pessoas de sair um pouco da realidade, eu não curto drogas. Tá certo que eu não é o mais agradável ver amigos meus se estragando com o tempo. Mas também acho que eu não tenho direito nem sabedoria pra ficar dizendo o que é bom e o que é mau para eles. Cada um na sua. Eu também me divirto com coisas que outras pessoas acham sem graça´.

Mas enfim, isso é um assunto muito extenso...

Lunch with Makel again.
As I was coming over to pick her um at the lawyer's office she's working on, I remembered this woman who sat beside me on a bus one day. She had an awful aspect, her hair a tangled mess, a face of madness, unshaven legs sticking out of a tattered skirt and into droopy socks. She carried a bag with a bundle of groceries. She sat beside me and began nagging about how she was having trouble to pay for her childrens' vacations in Disney, because her job as a lawyer wasn't paying all that much. I just kept nodding in hopes she'd give it up. But she nagged all the way to my stop. At the time I was already with Makel and still in that state of depression and uncertainty of my future that had come to me at the end of school. And it made me slightly affraid that Makel would somehow be unsuccessful as a lawyer and end up like that. I was affraid for her, I wanted to defend her from that. Nowadays I see she'll be just fine as a lawyer. She has what it takes. In fact, I'll probably be hiring her in the future. But the thing that does seem stupid to me nowadays is that, although I didn't believe for a second that the woman actually had any conditions to send any children to Disney, it took quite a while to dawn on me that she wasn't even a lawyer.

Mental lapses of the depression.

A progressão que o Gabriel, o Pensador faz de macho para gay em Retrato de um playboy é, no mínimo, hilária.

No mais, essa música me lembra muito alguém da minha turma...

É só.

This one's still in production (as you can see by the unfinished mouth and the reference taped on the corner...), but I'll let you have a look. By the way, it's not nearly as interesting as the real thing. Half of it was painted with vertical strokes and half wth horizontal strokes so that light bathes each half differently. Something hard to capture in photography without the correct lighting. Here it is...

I forgot to write that I had grown a beard and a mustache. Tink was curious to see what I'd look like. And I was thinking about posting a picture of me and writing under it "Go ahead and laugh". But yesterday, in a thoughtless moment, I shaved it all before I could have a chance to hesitate. Now I'm looking at my own reflection and having trouble to identify with what I see...

Estou curando-me de uma amigdalite que apareceu de repente (mais uma...). No processo, substituíndo a dolorosa injeção de Benzetacil, um antibiótico por via oral chamado Cecloraf.

ANTI BIÓTICO

Combate formas de vida.

Por que não dizer veneno?
A idéia é agredir esta forma de vida analizada como Peter Pan + bactérias/vírus(?). A forma de vida mais forte vai sobreviver. A outra não. Morte de dentro para fora.

Algo disso vai fazer algum sentido metafórico na minha vida algum dia. Mas por enquanto é só uma constatação besta de que eu não estou tomando algo para meu corpo sentir-se bem mas sim agredindo meu corpo.

Dadaist revelation VII:
I am Rei Ayanami's EVA unit 0, minus one arm, racing towards an angel with my last hope: my trustworthy N2 bomb...

Oh, by the way, Happy B-day, Aerandir!!!. Wish I could be there to hug you personaly, but that'll have to wait until I get a job that pays me enough to travel abroad for a few days... Ayways, best wishes to a dearest friend! XD

A recomendação de bog desta semana vai para Filosofia pura. Sem ofensas, mas eu tinha o preconceito de que engenheiros não tivessem esse tipo de opiniões profundas...

And I really recommend reading Kurt Vonnegut's Galapagos.



It's an entirely different narrative structure. You tend to get puzzled in the very beggining, but the peculiarities and little misteries keep you locked on to the book. Basically, after you understand what's going on, it tells the story of a cruise ship that carries the only survivors of the holocaust that whiped the rest of mankind from the face of the earth. They get stranded in the galapagos islands where they reproduce and, over the millenia, suffer natural selection, mutating into creatures that seem to be more adapted to live in harmony with what's left of nature. Aside from the curious structure, Vonnegut laughs at mankind's pretentious belief that our "big brains" are the climax of evolutionary weaponry, able to top any challenge of nature. The best and yet most acidly comical critic to our disrespect towards nature and ourselves. On a personal note, I'd say it's his way of saying that big brains always end up in schizotypal thought patterns. Take money, for example. It's the most fierce criticism he makes in the plot. We suddenly began to think that bits of paper are worth the same as useful things. And due to certain specific people's opinions, certain bits of paper can be worth more than others. How rational is that?

Well, I don't want to brag about the whole book. Read it yourself, it's quite amusing!!

Nana-chan irá concordar comigo.
Há algo mais imbecil e degradante para o carnaval brasileiro que o comercial do guaraná Kuat? Aquele com as várias pessoas se beijando e aquela tarja estúpida fingindo tentar censurar alguma coisa. E eu freqüentemente digo: isso é o que dá confiar em amadores...

Tá bom, modéstia zero... já calei...

In the aftermath of all the havoc brought about by Dora, I've begun to rebuild my little sand castles. No illusions this time. I've glanced at everything I produced in three years of art course with a dim feeling of shallowness. None of that is worth anything. Nah... I'm being cruel and masochistic. The fact is, after staring at my things for an hour, I came about the obvious conclusion that had struck me last year. Everything I've produced deals in one way or the other with relations. Entity to entity relations. From me getting some strange erotic pleasure out of painting portraits, to the photographic ghosts and their eternal state of allertness, their evaluation of possible threats in any other entity.

Now think... Abstract concepts. No illusions. Just the plain concept.
Grab your pail and bucket and start packing the sand...

More random literature:
There were those times when we both fell silent just looking at each other. She had the strangest blue eyes: her iris seemed to dye the whites of her eyes in a pastel blue. While her copper-coloured hair tainted the rest of her in a pale pink. At times, when the weather was right, little yellowish spots would cause me to perceive her eyes as being green. And then again, in rainy days the blue in them would slightly fade away, leaving mournful grey eyes glancing at everything.

Meanwhile, in the world of role playing games:

I Am A: Neutral Good GnomeBard Ranger (whatever that means...)


Alignment:
Neutral Good characters believe in the power of good above all else. They will work to make the world a better place, and will do whatever is necessary to bring that about, whether it goes for or against whatever is considered 'normal'.


Race:
Gnomes are also short, like dwarves, but much skinnier. They have no beards, and are very inclined towards technology, although they have been known to dabble in magic, too. They tend to be fun-loving and fond of jokes and humor. Some gnomes live underground, and some live in cities and villages. They are very tolerant of other races, and are generally well-liked, though occasionally considered frivolous.


Primary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.


Secondary Class:
Rangers are the defenders of nature and the elements. They are in tune with the Earth, and work to keep it safe and healthy.


Deity:
Oghma is the Neutral Good god of knowledge and invention. He is also known as the Binder of What is Known, and is the Patron of Bards. His followers believe that knowledge reigns supreme, and is the basis for everything else that is done. They wear white shirts and pants, with a black and gold braided vest, and a small, box-like hat. All priests of Oghma are known as Loremasters. Oghma's symbol is a scroll.


Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy ofNeppyMan (e-mail)