Thursday, June 13, 2013

Notes from my 3rd trip

As a fighter, you are trained to hit back when hit, but this is like boxing your own shadow, a faint spirit that never was.

If I don't like you, there's a damn good reason why, even if I am not yet aware of it.

I am a bit sad because I know my body is going to be battered by the impending storm.

When you find your warrior type, respect it above all else.

I am seeing fucking up Shit.

                         Right now, the trip is heavy.

                                                               I know this seems like a big fucking joke, I know, but it all HURTS.

Sometimes, reluctantly, you leave the sentences behind, like abandoned children at the pit stop gas station, like the fallen brethren on the shores of a blood soaked battlefield. You leave them, the words, because you must. At one point, the world needed them to be said aloud, but now, they can die.

For the Writers:
find your hill, climb it, and shout your story from its peak. 

I need someone to share a glance with me.


Just don't let me lose my shit right now.

This is why we train. We train to go to war. And if we survive, we keept fighting...until it ends. Because that's all there is for people like us. Can't you see that?

Is none of that really not meant for me? Or does that small space of writing our own story really exist?

It is like being shown the table of the main feast, then being told you will never eat.

I am seeing some real dark, fucked up shit this time around.

                                                                Fuck. I still don't understand my own potential.

I laugh at my own misery. I laugh at myself, a lot. Even when you can't see it.

George got your back.

Just when you think you don't need to write about it...

The fight...I don't know, it just calls me.

Marcella, we just need to fuck our ex's out of each other.

Buy the present for John. Committed here on paper. You can trust him.

At the end of the day, we're fucking animals. Don't lose touch with our nature.

V, my fellow guerrara, I see you, I feel you. I celebrate in our strength, share the pain of our vulnerability. I dedicated an entire dance to you. I stomped until the heel of my foot turned red with bloodthorn blisters. But it is our summons. The call of the Guerrero.

I don't make any of this up. I am far too fucking lazy for any of that shit.

I like finding new pockets.

   If I had to choose between hurting you and knowing you, I might hope we never meet.

                 Everytime I return to this world, I am always a bit disappointed.

Dance is a Prayer

                                 For all those wondering, I came to Brazil for training, not for
 fun. I am not on vacation here. 
                                                                                      I take my work more seriously than I ever 

I guess I'm just the sort of guy that thinks he'll fuck it all up sooner or later

Counting every rhythm, hitting every beat, it's all part of it, baby. 
It's all poetry. It's all the fight is about.

                       Soon I'll be working on my first book
 so this will be just the dog scraps. 
Sorry for that. 
                                           But at the same time,
buy the fucking book you cheap bastards.

Sometimes I forget how ridiculous I am. Thank you for having patience.

Rules. Those fucking rules. I've thought of the most obscene + grotesque ways to tell rules off. But I think the best one is for them to go home. Just go the fuck home, rules. You need some-time to yourself.

                       Oh GOD, here it goes again.

This time around, it's much colder.

This is why we live, to travel. Never stay in one place.

I have nearly nothing left for you, you blood sucking leech. How does it feel? How does it feel to taste your own Blood?

We are like a pack of ghouls, brought to a gray cemetery wasteland to be slaughtered.

I need it all right now, so I don't remain lost, in the dark.

                                                          I am seeing some fucked up sounds.
                                                                                                     Help me...

We are different animal warriors, Thiago. But we will play well together.

Fuck all those that wish us harm.

clowns of the most fucked up color.

only some of you will get this. 
The ones that do, I am in your debt.

             I was the one meant to bear witness to this slaughter.

I see you once again Dear brother, Jonathan. Poking through the letters, as you always have.

This sinister pirate. We all have the stench. You can never run from it.

Don't you get it? It's all about work. Even in between.

Right now, the warriors kneel.

               What if they all die?

I've spoken with the elders in the trees, and whether or not I like it, I was given a pen.

I can't stop laughing at the comedy of all of this.

White pants are meant to be dirtied.

I'm turning into this old dude, who just appreciates the small jokes that still get it.

                                old coyote warrior, taking a rest, wondering if the next one isn't his last ride.

There is still work to be done.

You have no choice in happiness. You are just meant to feel it.

Now it's making sense why these sports have chosen me. There is something noble within all the fucked up sheen. Something manages to prevail thru it all.

                                                                                                                                Back to work.

He was this singer who didn't have enough to be consumed by the life sucking hoards, but just the right amount, to bring the hymns of angels. To bring comfort to this world.

         God bless you Cynthia. I hope the world have been treating you fairly.

                  we both laughed cuz we both knew it was I who farted.

Speaking of which, with all this smoke, now is the perfect time to fart.

I'm sorry Desireé, but you're pretty much stuck with me, in some miserable form or another.

We are all just characters in a story that has already been written.

The heart BEATS for the mother.

I was just never meant to be that kind of fighter. Cheese sandwiches + cigarettes were just written in there.

                      I am probably getting the words: "cheese sandwich + cigarettes" tattooed somewhere on my body.

I owe you an apology Elvis, for my comportment. Thanks for being a strong friend.

Luis Cajero, those mid-afternoon conversations we had in Colombia
I carry them with me, still.

                 To all those I may not return a message to, just know, I love you all.

No coincidences

Marcella, honestly, I think we'll ruin each other's lives. But you know what? It's already too late. Contact has already been made. Let's make the best of it. Let's have FUN.

I think I'm starting to make peace with my old man.

Sometimes you laugh until the painful shrills start making sense.

                Claire, I see you now. Be kind to yourself, girl.

Stuart, you're one of the realest people I know.

Now I understand why moths are drawn to flames.

             I've been laughing a lot this whole time, but none of this is actually funny.

We all need a place to deposit our hate.

The logical part always has a place, just not the driver's seat.

Give me two boxes and I will fuck shit up.

We are all meant to be where we are, as fucking dementedly twisted as that may sound.

The only thing that is somewhat within our control is the ability to withstand.

Desireé, I still remember, most vividly in my mind, that one night you could not stop dancing, bobbing your lovely red curls like a teenager with excitement of the unknown. Let that person come out to play once in a while.

The slightest acknowledgement from an elderly woman will make me smile at myself with shame and embarrassment.

Deep buried within each of us, no matter what we have done, there is a human being.

Maybe me being Asian is meant to bring some Zen Buddhist peace nonsense to someone who needs it. If that's the case, I'm fine with that.

                I have tanlines from my sandals. THIS is how much            
                      I walk.

Oh god. Did I see some fucked up things this time around.

Sometimes I forget that I have tattoos. No really. I do.

I so want to fuck you again Kaia.

                                                                      It's almost painful how perfect the rigidness fits.

Those nights where you feel like you didn't do enough, they happen for a reason. Just so you understand that feeling. That's it.

I get it. All the musicians are chasing that perfect song, that they can see but not hear.

Guacamole Dip, Zoe. It meant the world to me.

Ok next time someone asks me if I see shit during one of these, the answer is YES.

This might be the episode where I need to be carried off.

Frigid spirits are trying to speak, only the pen comes thru.

                        This frigid spirit is a prison, but the pen is my savior

At this point, I've lost track of the wins. I stopped keeping track long ago.

That ability to feel black scorpion grip is a gift.

Battered armor back onto the field.

If I had to sum up this trip, it would be that of a tired soldier looking for a kind death.

The warriors have been beaten back tonight

You give everything you have. That's all that matters in the end.

I wish I could be more Buddha, but I always seem to have the look of a retard when I am meditating.

My life, is really ridiculous. It's a fucking joke.

                       Guitar strings. Come to save me like wings of angels.

Trust yourself more. That's a message for EVERYONE

Harry needs to be shown the shitshow this blog is.

Fuck. It's actually a betting favorite.

I just gotta say, I love all you stupid assholes.

Curse words are funny things.

                            Zoe. Your songs saved me this time

I will buy you a notebook at Centro Geoffry. Signed.


That tastes like purple

                     Spiderman Ninja Turtles joke

Sometimes I worry I'll never have a love that stays.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Lots of shit goin on in your head brother....enjoy the ride you lucky bastard....