unicidades

I am in a jazzy mood today. Sigh.

Dos Fracasos Music: Miguel Caló Lyric: Homero Expósito Me sorprendí cuando te hallé como un dolor, sin palabras, la voz mareada de copas se me anudó en la garganta. Quise gritar, pero pa' qué si al fin yo estoy igual. Sueños que gastamos conversando cuando nos hablábamos de amor. Horas que ya están en el olvido, sensación de haber perdido la esperanza en el adiós. Rabia de sabernos tan cambiados, miedo de gritar esta verdad. Somos dos fracasos que se amaron y partieron y olvidaron y hoy se miran asombrados de morder la realidad. Vuelve otra vez a tu rincón que yo me voy con los años. Ya llueve plata en mis sienes y hay un dolor en tus manos. Pa' qué llorar todo el ayer si ya no puede ser. Click here to listen to the song. Inevitavelmente te encontro em tangos como este. Em cada palavra um sopro. Homero Exposito falou de nosso amor-ilusão. Divagamos não só na casa e na cama. Divagamos quando nossas vidas se cruzaram e pensamos que poderíamos ser algo menos ordinário que os amor

How can one draw drops of dew Dense as breasts, full as hearts How can one draw dew drops filled with love and dancing hands full of wishes How can one feel drops of dew after the sunrise When the sun shines even the most precious dew even the drops filled with love evaporate If the sun thaws your heart, why then the filled with love dew drops disappear How can one kiss the sun and keep the love dew drops To R.S.S. He writes the most beautiful haiku and has taught me the meaning of the word dew over a cup of tea while we listened to the ocean and felt its salty smell

It doesn't matter anymore the person I used to be. I learned that what matters the most is how one feels. What kind of happiness you can buy, pursue, sustain. There are things in your soul that always will be. They'll be there. Your loved ones. Sadness. Tiredness. Maybe you're a giving person and you make people happy. Memories. Tickles. Scars. Joy. The rays of sun that make you happy and are free. A corner on Earth that makes you smile. Someone who offers you something unique. Saudade. Loneliness. Hunger. Passion. Poetry. Photo taken in my hometown, back in 2005. I don't wear watches anymore because I am afraid of running out of time.

A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers Xiaolu Guo I followed you with my eyes, until I could no longer see your broad shoulders. You were wearing jeans and an old t-shirt. There was some kind of despair in your eyes that night. You didn't cry, you didn't shout. You stood there, looking at me. We had talked about divorce before, but that time was different. My financial situation had changed. You wanted to go to South America. I was tired of moving. I was tired of not having a saying. I find the story in this book to be similar to my story. I can feel her pain because I relate to it. Something must be wrong with me. I've been crying so much lately. This morning I realized that the pain I feel for not having my mom anymore is somewhat similar to the pain she must have felt for not having me around. Five years without me. Now, this book made me cry. The other day, photos made me cry. Isn't it ironic that sometimes what people dream together - anything - sometimes

Dear Gardel , It's been said that you are the best tango singer that ever existed. Some say you were born in Uruguay. Some argue it was Paris. I think the only thing we know for sure is where you died. I like to think you were born in Uruguay. My grandfather was from Rocha. I don't even know if he liked tango or not. I do listen to your songs, but not as much as I used to. The milongas I go to play La Cumparsita and that's how I know it's time to go home. This morning I finally dedicated some time to get some new tango songs. I found so many that I like. Music makes the world a happier place. I also have to tell you that I practiced some tango moves and I feel happy. I had some leftover coffee, played music and exercised. Molinetes , walking, some few embellishments. I ventured in the world of a lonely tango. Not much is new. I don't know what to do on my vacation that is coming up. I would like to dance tango for the whole week, every single night. That's wha

Piuca by VC.

"Kitten. She had snowy white paws and pea green eyes, and Splat liked her more than fish sticks and ice cream." In: Love, Splat by Rob Scotton.

Sangram em mim tua ausências. Desta vez de verdade, intensas, insanas. Impossíveis. Sangram de meus olhos passado, memórias, medos, sorrisos. Já não é mais verão, os pássaros voltaram. A dor de ver-te é tão aguda. Dilacerante estar. Escrevo num diário. Soluço ao perder-te. Ao deixar-te ir. Nada ficou. apaguei tuas fotos, teu e-mails, tuas mensagens. Andrea Doria Legiao Urbana Às vezes parecia /Que de tanto acreditar /Em tudo que achávamos /Tão certo.../Teríamos o mundo inteiro /E até um pouco mais /Faríamos floresta do deserto /E diamantes de pedaços /De vidro...Mas percebo agora /Que o teu sorriso /Vem diferente /Quase parecendo te ferir... /Não queria te ver assim /Quero a tua força /Como era antes /O que tens é só teu /E de nada vale fugir /E não sentir mais nada.../Às vezes parecia /Que era só improvisar/ E o mundo então seria /Um livro aberto... /Até chegar o dia /Em que tentamos ter demais /Vendendo fácil /O que não tinha preço.../Eu sei é tudo sem sentido /Quero ter alguém /Com

Source: Google. Hedy Lamarr.

This is a week of contrasts. I have reconnected with old friends. I have been feeling sick and down. I see things in my mailbox that I wish I could avoid. I am buying things I don't need. I am asking for a friend to bring me the most amazing tango shoes from Argentina. Yes, CIF and NT. I can't wait to have them. I am also going out on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I haven't written anything inspiring. I got some new makeup and I've met a Lancome m ake up artist who is doing my makeup on Saturday. Work's boring, but I've been finding excellent books to read. Sexual Personae is one of them. I read an article today on this actress from way back, who was a fascinating creature. One of her photos made me think about me swimming in that blue pool in Key West. Free, under the stars. Under the water fountain. I want to visit Key West again. Alone. Love is not a word. Love is a promise. Love is a shattered glass. Love is sand and salt. A bloody soul. Love is

Garden State.

Last night I came home to find myself reading my own writings I cried again as if I could Last night I came home to the cold winter of a lonely sunroom in which the moon was a mere ghost Last night I came home to be the nostalgia of you and me I read myself and I saw pictures For how long is this going to last? It's a good thing I am never going to bear children. I am ending this non-sense sadness. It was cold last night. My entire apartment feels it. As I walk and I search for some kind of life in there. I feel its winter. My hands and feet are cold. I am not even angry anymore. I ran out of energy. Please, just turn off the lights when you leave. Take these memories with you. Take the pain. Take our history with you. I need to write a new chapter.

His words inspire me. It's time for me to write again. I want to inspire him. I'd like to open his hands with my words. I'd like to see him embracing life.

Do you know what a heart is? Two question marks that decide to rebel.

Tango was declared part of the world’s cultural heritage by the United Nations on Wednesday and granted the international seal of approval Argentina and Uruguay have long sought for the dramatic dance and its sensual moves. Source: Momento 24. Oddly enough that had to happen in Dubai. Argh .

I've recently paid off my car and I am very happy about that. On Wednesday morning I had to transfer the title to my name and, to my surprise, the last three letters on my new car plate reads: MNK. I immediately made an association with the word Monk. This morning I was reading this article and I couldn't help myself, but think that now my car plate is related to Thelonious Monk. Silly, I know, but I love to find hidden meanings on things.

Interesting article here.

Sometimes I feel like there's a poem inside of me. It's ready, but I cannot write it. I've been painting too. I want to express myself in many different ways. With words when I write. With my body when I dance. With my mind when I draw and paint. With my laughter when I make somebody else laugh. With my soul when I love. I don't want to give less. I see the people I have been. I see this pale person now. I see and feel the changes. I need time to recover. Some of my reds are fading. They're blurry too, just like the blues. It seems like after so many disappointments, I don't know anymore if there's anything ahead of me worth any excitement . What could that be? A new job? More money? A better apartment? New friends? A book? What's it that is going to make my life less ordinary? I have to make decisions soon. Can I write? Can I be who I really want to be? Songs and perfume have the same effect on me. They make me feel -- intensely. It's late. I have t

Meu tema de casa esta semana: escrever sobre as coisas que quero para ser mais feliz. Verdade que quero escrever sobre muitas coisas. Os sentimentos confusos. As dores de amor. As melodias que escuto quando acordo. Saudade. A nostalgia. Hoje faz um ano. E ela faria 68. A morte congela as idades, faz piada do tempo. Ri, escrachada, do tornar-se velho. Quando revi meu pai no aeroporto pensei: como envelheceu. Mas dela nunca poderei dizer isso de novo. Tive essa certeza em 2003 quando a revi depois de quase mil dias afastada. Sinto tua falta. Para compartilhar e para sermos de novo amigas.

Jezebel Jezebel wasn't born with a silver spoon in her mouth She probably had less than every one of us But when she knew how to walk she knew how to bring the house down Can't blame her for her beauty She wins with her hands down Jezebel, what a belle Looks like a princess in her new dress How did you get that? Do you really want to know she said It would seem she's on her way It's more, more than just a dream She put on her stockings and shoes had nothing to lose - she said it was worth it Reach for the top and the sun is gonna shine Every winter was a war she said I want to get what's mine Jezebel, Jezebel won't try to deny where she came from You can see it in her pride and the raven in her eyes Try show her a better way she'll say you don't know what you've been missing by the time she blinks you know she won't be listening Reach for the top she said the sun is gonna shine Every winter was a war she said I want to get what's mine I want

Marcelo Camelo & Ivete Sangalo juntos? Certas coisas que acontecem no meu Brasil musical me surpreendem muito.

there's no unconditional love.

Montreal?

Do people still write love letters these days? The book I am reading is inspiring me to write a series of love letters. I was thinking about that last night. How should I embrace such daunting task? Should I start by chapters? By age? Should I cite the names of the people I have loved? How about those who have loved me? Should I keep the letters separate? Should I exhaust my subjects? Last night could have served as a starting point. I was awake, I was tossing and turning in bed, I was desperate. I was in love with my book and I was thinking that I was finally able to feel all the pain that there is to feel. I haven't missed you that much before. I don't know why this time I let myself be this out of control ship. I am sinking in the memories of us. What for? If I can't stand the idea of having you next to me anymore. I can't even stand the idea of having loved you. I ponder: was I really in love with you? Aside from the fun of having your company and from the dreams w

I hate people who drive red mini coopers. Hmpf.

Etta Jones wanted a Sunday kind of love. I am still here thinking about the things I don't want. Damn Your Eyes is a great song that talks about a Wednesday kind of blue.

Mercedes Sosa July 9, 1935 – October 4, 2009 All I ask God.

Because this thing we call life was happening. At Collins and 79th St. Sunday night.

FYI: My English teachers used to say that English is consistent. If you use past tense in one sentence, you can't mix past, present and future. You have to be consistent and use one of them throughout your sentences. I do mix present and past. Future, sometimes. I do that on purpose most of the time. There's a reason for that. I am aware of the rules. I just like to play the game my own way. I like to confuse my readers. I like to show them how mentally confused I am and how random these thoughts are.

I have to say that I am in love with the English language. I was going to say that I wanted to read this book in Portuguese - a good translation, perhaps (although I don't believe in translations or good translations anymore). Then I changed my mind. Then I entertained the thought of having had this book written in Portuguese in the first place, instead of having access to a mere translation. Soon enough I realized the size of my profanity. How insane! I actually like the way it sounds while I read it. I like the mystery. I like the questions. I like the sound of what I can't understand. I like this feeling that there's more to explore. Aside from my language dilemma, there's so much more to understand and learn from this book. When I read the New York Times review, I felt deeply connected with it. Maybe because of my insistence on being loved, finding love, or understanding love and its complexities. Somehow this author vindicates my urges. Somehow she helps me forgive

"If it belongs to you"

Love seems like a struggle. A battle between a strong(er) and a weak(er) person. So, I am in love with a girl who doesn't care about me. He's in love with me. I don't care about him. She is in love with him. He is in love with himself. We love the wrong people. We give ourselves to people who want other people. We turn down love to be somewhere else, to be with someone else. What is the most important thing in life? Why do we praise "love" so much? What is love? Is it an action? Is it a kiss? Is it intimacy? Is it a nice conversation? Is it to give yourself completely? Is it to blend your soul with someone else's soul? Where does the need "to be with" come from? Is it instinct? Is it companionship and loyalty? The house is quiet. I cleaned, organized, and selected things to donate. I ate, I had tea. I read my book. My hammock never seemed like a better place to be. The moon is beautiful. I longed to be. I longed to be inspired to be in love. I longe

Das minhas incapacidades - tentativa esta de reconhecimento, tentativa de ser humilde. Descobri que sou uma pessoa incapacitada de amar quando o amor dói. Descobri que meu amor é limitado, embora minha alma pense e sonhe com algo que se parece a amor e é vasto e nobre. Mas descobri que sou mesquinha. Que sou pequena. Que me ajoelho ao sonho de amar se for bem-amada. Se eu receber carinho e afeto, permanecerei. Não quero sexo por sexo. Digo não ao ser-objeto. Digo não ao amor enlatado. Esse amor que vende, que se torna promíscuo.

"Here's what your father and I knew about each other: the virtue of the icy heart. If you have it, you can do what isn't fair, you can do what isn't in the neighborhood of right. And you can survive the pain of causing so much pain." (Rescue Missions, page 67) Here's what I think: There's no virtue in having an icy heart. Although I think the author used the word virtue here to express an idea of posession, I wanted to make that remark. Also, if you do possess an icy heart, you feel no pain whatsoever. You cause pain and that's the way you go through life. Empowering other people by making them suffer. You make them stronger. Obsviously, there's a price. There's always a price.