AD LIBS

Pergunto-me se todo o escrevente segue um ritual ansioso semelhante ao de todo o outro escrevente incerto de que efectivamente o é. Se se lava e se alimenta; se caga com as reflexões pairando e por assentar, no desejo de as conseguir expor, não cedendo à expectativa das suas capacidades; se bebe e sorve o café, ou o que mais gostar, que nada acrescenta e nada deixa esquecer.

Chega com ideias e debate-se com os costumes da tinta espalhada? Cede à homogeneidade? Conforma-se com esquemas e estilos? Safa-se com os devaneios do lirismo agradável? Suja-se com os seus maneirismos mundanos e arruaceiros? Quem é ele ou quem são eles, nas palavras? Que imagens carregam? Qual o gatilho que primem?

Quero garantir que a minha hesitação é o meu princípio e o fim pontuado das minhas composições, sendo inocente duma fuga fútil, nunca escapando a mim mesmo.

 

GJ

Deaf Splash of Growth

 

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I’m feeling full today, I can’t stomach any food, so I’m making a soothing warm soup, plenty pumpkin, squash, turnips, carrots, beets, a little ginger and a handful of fresh minced mint. The sizzling hot day turned the roads and sidewalks into radiators, the air is thick and hot at eight pm. As I sip on an icy cup of ginger tea the soup is cooking and the water is reaching boiling point, foaming, lifting the lid, while in the sink water is dripping, from the tap that needs fixing and its constant dripping sets my teeth on edge. It took only one drop splashing on the already large pool formed by the leakage, splashing into a few more droplets, to send me back to the time when I believed whatever would happen then would shape my whole life. Whatever happened before and after I realised the truth didn’t shape the rest of my life, whatever happened on those blissful days spent in hidding, in young love didn’t define me –  that’s the story.

It was, after all, young love, utter and unnerving short sighted bliss, that encouraged me to spend my days in longing, waiting for my lover to come back, parting ways at the train station and staying close for when the time came up being faithfully there to walk back home together. That last day I wondered ‘round the valley and up the ridges in Sintra, I still know the trails by hand, all of them. I had the camera with me, as well as bag with books, water and fruit. As the day progressed, the cartridge filled up with photos, the bag filled up with flowers I had been collecting and the books remained untouched.

At dawn, I sat nearby the train station, at an oddly crowded location. I could see the house in the valley from the belvedere, I dreamt about the future living there, grazing the wild flower bouquet resting on my lap. Famished and thirsty, could barely hold myself, there was still no sign, no familiar grin surfaced from the hasty croud getting out of the train. The night rose quickly and damp, with a thin coat of fog which soaked up the tragedy in alluring gusts of heavy, bleak, perfumed wind.

I was left alone and I knew already then wallowing in loneliness was not on my plans so I left alone and dropped the flowers in a sort of shy gesture.

Today I’m a little faint from both the heat brought by summer and all my loving and affection, having a little bit of a weak stomach from loving deeply and having nothing even remotely as heavenly to treat myself with, spending my days writing endless love letters with everything I do, fueled by it, sipping on unimaginable quiet.

By the fountain, at the ridge, I took a while to absorb the nature around me, just sit down and listen. The water flowed dully and silent from the canals to the fountain. Only the sound of the drops from the water dully and almost criteriously splashing on the rocks dripping on the wavering water could be heard. I spent the night.

 

GJ

Colher

Dei ao mar, caído da minha jangada desenlaçada pela minha própria mente turbulenta.

É certo, antes de arar queria colher como antes de perguntar queria já saber. Quis sempre vencer a corrida contra mim mesmo e adivinhar-me antes de o tempo ter corrido. Colher-me-ia o tempo ainda desmentido, que não existia, e voltaria para me questionar ininterruptamente e estar todas as vezes errado, todas as vezes todas as manhãs, todas as perguntas respondidas, todas as certezas desfeitas. Esta eternidade teve um fim contigo. Quando me mostraste a cor da minha pele e a vi clara como água aceitei a vibração do laranja que me ardia na vista turva da água salgada, quando mergulhado estive, quebrados a cada nó da maré os meus ossos, sargaço do mar, quando me colheste e respondeste à pergunta que se afogou comigo, trouxeste a manhã irrepetível.

Juntos desmentimos o tempo, repetimos manhãs em que buscamos tudo do conhecimento e ficamos em flor e ora em fruto, nos ramos rebentamos em flores, e então em frutos.

GJ

Routine 1,2,3 from the top

Wake up, gitty up, love, go for it, have coffee, cum, eat, drink, bathe, dance, pet your cat, run to the train, coffee to go, sit on the stairs, love, wait, read, read some more, love, read a whole chapter, music, strut, work, love, have a laugh, get angry, love, question your life decisions, fear and plan, tone your thought, love, take the stairs, exercise, be assertive, be frontal, be transparent, save your words, love, have ideas, imagine, feel the sun, drink water, love, drink some more, eat, have sex dreams on the train after work, love, read on the train, have sugar, do something different, participate in some project with your honest words and required wisdom, work out, sweat, love, drink lots of water, persist, tunel vision, limits, love, the here, the now, arrousal, strength, walk home, love, make a phone call, say lovely words, love, feel less happy hanging up, love, complete a 20 minute walk, love, get home, shower, cum, moisturize, dance, love, cook dinner, make it dirty, love, don’t wash the dishes, eat proudly, love, eat from a boul, have icecream, watch some stupid series, behold the living results of your works, feel horny, try to remember your daily to do list, fail at it, love, have a martini, grab your book, love, read, love, enter the zone, love and do whatever. There is only now.

 

GJ

Ouroboro, tantas grafias, um símbolo apenas

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Este símbolo representa a natureza cíclica da alquimia. A serpente que engole a própria cauda simboliza os ciclos naturais, o eterno, e processos indivisíveis das práticas alquímicas.  Os alquimistas eram ainda muito interessados pelos fenómenos naturais, e usariam o Ouroboro quando necessitavam de ilustrar os conceitos de renascimento e regeneração.  Mais importante ainda, este poderoso símbolo animal alquímico representa a máxima “a unidade do todo” que é, por defeito, a filosofia mais complexa de compreender. O Ouroboro direcciona o subconsciente para penetrar n”a unidade do todo”, e abastece-nos do foco necessário à reincarnação, à aceitação dos contínuos ciclos da vida, sendo um sublime símbolo alquímico para o infinito.

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GJ