storms in pernambuco

 i'm happy to say things have been nice and calm. recently a new coworker has become a friend of me and elize. her name is kamila. she is also a fan of our band, usually the only one to be there every show....i think this is my first friendship in a long time. you see, besides elize, i don't really have bonds with anyone else.. when we were kids, i was a loner at school.....it's probably easy to guess just by looking at me, but i was bullied..... elize has always been social but she didn't like her friends, they didn't match her interests....so she ditched them for me and the rest was history.. we grew up and things stayed mostly the same....she made new friends, and i tagged along not making any of my own. ...i always feel inadequate if i'm not by her side. i stutter horribly....my hands shake....like a recluse creature......but meeting kamila was a first step in a nice direction. i think introverts do good together, and she is also one of those, like me..... a...

 i fell out of practice but i actually liked this one. today i was listening to bananafishbones - the cure, as i made it.

in the smoke and the fog with you getting lost within the white and grey i see the faint impression of you lying on the cold asphalt  as the clouds took over you like a cruel blanket, suffocating and i watch as the remains of you dissipate towards the moon up above and as i try and forget you all i can remember is the fog and there was no more you no more you anymore……..

we did it! me and elize are officially under the same roof. i finally and gladly left my shabby apartment to my lover’s arms in her lovely little house in campo belo, also conveniently halving the time taken to get to my job in the middle of nowhere.. my dreams of hearing her voice everyday, singing quietly from the kitchen, of watching her just watching mtv cartoons at night and laughing away, of sharing a wardrobe with her stylish and abundant clothes; all of it has come true at once. i am one happy man.... i’m lucky her parents like me; to be honest, i was scared shitless of them... i would stutter and choke on all my words at their sight. but it was unwarranted fears, just like the many i have…..her parents are cool hippies..... her father, of course, an englishman with english money in brazil, which granted her a comfortable life financially - her parents were the ones who bought her our house. he was the one i was most scared of, but his funny british accent was disarming after a...

the tribulations of life have kept me away from writing about life itself, but good news have come. i am once again useful to capitalistic society - meaning, i have a job once more. there isn’t much choice, the last thing i want is to depend on elize and well, i was not born a heir in this life but a working class migrant.. differently from my last occupation as a cashier, the job is farther away than i’d like, in the imigrantes road toll booth as a toll taker. it’s a night shift, which leaves me with room to study during the day and i’d say it’s a bit rock and roll… at night, the shapes and lights of the road merge into an outwordly scenario of black, red and yellow; the occasional fog turning the whole place ghost-like and confused, and i can only see the asphalt and the driver’s faces, barely lit by the white light of the booth as they hand me money and i let them continue to wherever they might be headed at 3 in the morning.....  it’s not bad, but i do have to take the subway a...

 crackles under the cracking sun, crooked and crisp the flowers i brought to your door all those moons ago on the steps under storms and stars, steam and winds they refuse to leave the land of your love abandoned as may be, withered, stale but they stay, the stems, the shriveled leaves in spirals inwards they wait still for the day you come back home to yours they wait still for the day you come back home to yours

  for long i had in my hands a journal and pen, wherever i went. but isn't that obsolete now in digital society? i better get with the times.... i'm ravenskullprince, or....... bento ramones da conceição. ramones is not a surname but part of my first name, "bento ramones".....just like someone can be called "josé carlos" or "ana maria", but with the twist that my mother had only a single disc in her shelf and it was "ramones" - self titled, by, of course, the band ramones. pernambucana in a small countryside town, she thought the name would make others think of me as a gringo, exotic, maybe united statian, just like the punk men in leather jackets she saw on that black and white cover.....but of course preceeding it with "bento" might have foiled her plans from the start. it only gets me a few laughs when i introduce myself..... i'm tall, hunched over, a bit scrawny. white as a ghost, what northeasterns call "galego...