Accessories of the mind...

As I use this form of communication, I try, with many different words to reach people that matter to me, in a direct or undirected form…I use this as a way to turn public a big part of my emotions, mostly those that disturb me the most…accessories to stabilize my mind in a world that creates a new form of fascism: the image fascism…I appear to be free in ways of thinking or acting, but I will always be classified as something so that society can not affect its homeostasis…we are all spheres glued to the surface of a huge sphere that turns in certain directions…do we really want to always be part of a certain group inside our small society, that itself lives inside a city, country, continent, planet, solar system, universe?………..we are really so small and insignificant, but the thought of being unique in a small group, gives us the illusion of the importance we have…and the society in which we breath classifies us as something, so I create a new movement: the unclassified, but by doing this I’m classifying! Can we really survive without a tag around our neck? Do we want to be untagged? Can we live untagged?

I feel like I’m nothing, and don’t tell me I’m special to that or another person and for myself, because life would go on with or without me, after some bumpy moments…time, one of mankind's greatest creations, never stops…
On the other side, I believe that in my indifference towards my existence in this world I can make a small, positive and worthy difference for whoever will stumble on any of my footsteps, leaving the least tricky and unstable footsteps behind, trying to erase them, learning from them and avoiding a new emersion of the same mistakes. I truly believe we learn more from our mistakes then from our “good-takes”, so we are sentenced to make them to get a more stained version as result from our actions. I am sentenced to make good and bad small things in my small world, but I can make both and here lays my choice.

Honesty has been working for me…it’s not easy, but it has made my life less heavy…sometimes I would like to be more honest, but I’m starting to understand how selfish that can be due to the instability I could bring to some spheres…on the other side, this can be a very selfish and narcissistic way of thinking!...maybe my honesty wouldn’t change anything at all, but we all know that’s not true! Sometimes we don’t take a decision in function of good or bad, but in the perspective of the least damage…or the biggest advantage. The important thing to retain is that we have the power of decision and that, in whatever situation we are, it’s always our decision…

This is not my sentence and I shamefully don’t know the author of it, but it’s been a pillar of my functioning: “My freedom ends from the moment it interferes with the freedom of the other.”
But can we really understand the notion of freedom if we have to limit its range of action?

Freedom and Respect as 1=2 and 2+2=5
Thanx for reading (even when I become mainstreamed, like in my past post, but women are one of my main fuels)
I.M.H.

Cropduster

The beauty of a female body that swings at the sound of a beat, of a movement, of a smell, of a touch, of an glimpse, synchronizes my feelings and makes me dream in a passionate way about it…wanting to listen to it with my fingertips, watch it with the tip of my tongue, smell it with my eyes.
Sometimes I obsess with figures of female forms that I can’t have…I guess everybody does, but does everybody obsess the way I do, not being able to substitute that image for another one? It’s so strange how emotional I become, and how irrational I perform when I get controlled by a beauty image, that by the passing of days I start to corrode, so I can easily accept the unreachable aspect of this form, not trying even to reach it. I will not fight gaining to much respect for my opponents, not establishing an honest or even dirty fight to posses what I desire…I to softly accept what my supposed destiny lays in front of me, even when it looks reachable – I’m too soft.
Thankfully I always wish for what I don’t have not preserving what I already gained…

I very fast post by I.M.H.

Lisboa (from moonlight to twilight)

Siento que todos los colores que veo asociados al movimiento y sonido, me envuelven como un niño en una cuna de piedra. Al escoger la lengua de Cervantes para escribir esta nota se debe a mi necesidad de expresar un día raro pero lleno…el castellano ha dominado mi forma de pensar hoy…encuato miraba al Tajo, después de la media noche, los barcos se paseaban de forma tranquila sobre sus aguas como que intentando no hacer ruido para que el niño se durmiera en su cuna. Las luces de la ciudad suspiraban sus dolores que al largo del día habían digerido de los millares de personas que debajo de su estado apagado, se movían. La ciudad no duerme y yo tampoco, porque presiento que algo iba a pasar…hoy me apetecía hacer locuras…tirarme desnudo al Tajo y esperar que el me vistiera. Fue lo que hizo, cando lo miré, el me contó algunas historias suyas, me recordó otras mías y me dijo para no dejar de creer…mi esfera llegará a algún destino todos los días…unos mas racionales, otros mas emocionales…unos mas llenos otros menos llenos…días y mas días que me revuelven el alma…pero es la noche que me hace respirar, aun que de forma algo melancólica pero simultáneamente alegre, toda esta experiencia de vida que estoy teniendo en uno de los años mas intensos de mi vida. El sol, el Tajo, el puente, el “silencio” nocturno de la ciudad, el movimiento del coche, las luces, las estatuas, la música, las casas, los semáforos, los árboles, las personas…Lisboa (from moonlight to twilight).

La cuna es de piedra por dos razones: Una es completamente personal y la otra porque mismo que tenga todos mis sentidos despiertos y súper receptivos a todo tipo de estimulo, la forma como hoy los he encajado ha sido algo dura…pero una cuna de piedra no quiere decir que sea específicamente inconfortable.

Una versión ibérica de la Histeria Mutante en Implosión

Mysterious…still holding on this sea.

Did you really want? No I didn’t…
The movement of my sphere stumbles on wished desires that aren’t always what how I structured them. So I can resolve this in two different ways: Or accept it as the wished desired fulfilled or rejecting it and looking for another one.
Inside the accepting option, I will have, consciously our unconsciously, always the notion that it’s not the exact right piece for that place on the puzzle, so I can accept reality or adapt perception of reality – one leads to deception and settling for less, the other with denial and distortion.
In the rejection option I may stumble on some other three options: frustration for not finding something at least as good as the one denied and so being able to settle for even less (bigger frustration); finding something different that is not even better or worst than the previous, not comparable, but delivers the same level of satisfaction than the previous so the sphere has to settle for the same amount of satisfaction (indolence); or really finding something better (sometimes looks as an unreachable task)!

Should I retune my frequencies and settle for less or should I keep a high standard and hope that the last option comes to life?…for now, I will keep rolling and not settling because my purpose for the year doesn’t allow me to become dishonest and honesty delivers a opposite for towards indolence!

“It’s always the same, wake up in the rain, head in pain, hung in shame, a different name, same old game, love in vain, miles, and miles and miles away from home again.”
The Cure in “The edge of the deep green sea” from the album Show

I.M.H. somewhere in “The edge of the deep green sea!” (Probably one of my favourite songs from The Cure, especially the version performed in Show, but never forget A Forest)…

Trilogia Suja de Havana.

Due to my lack of inspiration and general apathy for writing new comments in the past week, I’ll leave you with a citation of the book I’m reading at the moment.

"É que sexo não é para gente escrupulosa. O sexo é um intercâmbio de líquidos, de fluidos, saliva, respiração e cheiros fortes, urina, sémen, merda, suor, micróbios, bactérias. Ou não é. Se é só ternura e espiritualidade etérea então não passa de uma paródia estéril do que podia ser." (p. 13)
Pedro Juan Gutiérrez em “Trilogia suja de Havana” (2004, 6ª edição, Lisboa: Publicações Dom Quixote.)

Best regards,

I.M.H.