Strange things are happening in this blog: is getting serious! Each time, there are fewer reports of deviant behavior, it lacks general hatred, and worse, people start to like it. It was just what I needed, to be seen as a serious guy, consistent and friendly. I prefer to pretend that I'm a motherfucker irascible and reckless. It brings me all the good stuff, as well as attract shamelessly chicks, also keeps me away from the thing that makes me vomit, right after the excess of alcohol: people who claim to be at peace with their lifes!
Perhaps the latest texts are a reflection of my emotional arrhythmia, they are actually look like a bit depressed, and I think we all agree, the depressions only attracts two things: psychiatrists and futile chicks! There is nothing worse than a tasteless cow that just want to give encouragement to make sure that there are people more fucked up than her. Because there are people who do not surrender to self-deception, don't read Paulo Coelho's books, don't like cuddly animals and children, they aren't leftist, don't care about the weak and oppressed, and they are politically incorrect. I think, deep down this is the closest to the concept of "being real". I think it's the proof that "being at peace with life" is synonymous with being dead.
Some say that to live a full life requires only Love, Health and Money. If so, I am doomed because I lost faith in love when I met cocaine, lost faith in health when I met heroin, only got faith in the "speedball", something that gave me enormous pleasure while strolling through Limbo. The money never experienced, I have no family fortune, and I even think that's why I can't have the other two. I can't afford the best whores, and I have no money for more and better drugs because I have no money for the best detox centers.
I have to resign myself to the crumbs, to the chicks who still fall into the trap, to the dealers and their crafty acetylsalicylic-coke, to the forced labor, and my rudimentary hobbies.I t's a constant search for something that makes me feel alive without having to spend money . Who said being a shameless piece of shit was easy? Strangely, boredom also haunts the poor peope. It's rare but it happens ...
Many years ago I was assailed by boredom, then I tried something new: I married! I tried to kill two birds with one stone, find love and get rid of boredom. The only thing I found was even more hatred and boredom. And boredom in excess can kill a poor. But hatred is innocuous, and may even be beneficial in preparing us for a reality that is unknown until the mid-30 years: sociopathy! One of the worst things I've ever met in my life was exactly people. Apart from forced labor, of course ...
Based on this general antipathy for human plague, once I've tried to join the usefull with enjoyable, I tried to kill the boredom using people: experienced BDSM! But didn't worked out, since the idea was really causing suffer without to being desired. I forgot the "safeword" but the bitch had a poster of the written word, and could show it shortly after I untied her from the barbed wire and just before I get the ethyl alcohol bottle. I could ignore the written word on the poster claiming that it was illiterate and abhorred the "New Opportunities" and bleaching of statistics, but it was like showing a crucifix to a vampire. The word on the poster was "I LOVE YOU!"
Nowadays I try to live one day at a time. No, not into that shit of "carpe diem" does not even follow that philosophy. First because it is the most beaten thing right after Marta Leite Castro, and second because it's not true. I have just to resignate that life and people are actually a really big amount of shit and it is unlikely that the near-extinction of the human race will be a reality in a near term. If Ronaldo was a father, I believe in everything. Although we can give thanks to God (yours or another) you can watch on the spot the theory of Evolution of Species... The conclusion only will be known in few years, but I think "evolution" it's not an appropriate term, perhaps "genetic aberration" is more likely. On the other hand, maybe a new messiah was born, maybe now the term "Virgin Mary" is closer to "Son of a Bitch!"
But not everything is bad in this sad and toxic life, sometimes we still have some joys that give us strength to continue. Sometimes I even consider that self-imposed solitude can be a mistake. Of course this is only up to orgasm. Mine, of course!
I was updating my Facebook status (which is only a single sentence, but in various forms and languages: "Go fuck yourselfs!") when I received a call from an acquaintance inviting me to a triptych. Although I don't like people, I have not thought of devoting myself to the grazing, also I got tired of wanking myself as a teenager. Therefore I accepted, even for triptych: it is not every day we have this for free!
She suggested a date in some museum, and I don't even questioned, since I do not make value judgments of chicks with kinky toughts, and also because it can be funny to debauch in tedious places. When I got there, was just her, and then I realized that the lack of general knowledge can be frustrating. After all she was alone and just went to see a painting composed by three panels painted by a guy named Bosch. I was beyond of fucked. Unfortunately it was not in their literal form, but it was OK, since I was there and I had nothing better to do, I took some time and saw the fucking painting. After all, a date is a date. All we have to do is to stand all the bitch's inanities during the whole dinner just in order to do her next. That would not be very different. The only difference is that I was going to fuck her with an empty stomach, but in return hadn't to spend money to feed the bitch.
Arrived at the painting in question, I looked it with indifference, but something caught my attention. I stared myself in the middle panel, I realized that it was not very different from my current life. At this point I was assailed by doubt, and ultimately I questioned myself: what if God (anyone) exists afterall? And what if this was an almost exact representation of reality? That's when I looked at the left panel, I realized that would never be my fate, this was probably in the right pane. The existential question is bad, and for a moment I ceased to be eager to fuck the bitch, I began to consider the metaphysical and fairy tales. If I'm wrong, the surer is the eternal agony of Hell. It was at this point that I became calmer, as if I get there, I'll find a lot of well-known people. Is there that, once and for all, I will going to deprive with some VIPs.
I left introspective, thinking about all these issues. Fortunately this bitch that invited me, went there to see the picture just for pure professional purpose. She works in a Chinese company that makes reproductions of famous artworks. The dumbs and rednecks are becoming demanding, they are getting enough of the Mona Lisa and whiny brat.
When I went out of that den anti-horny den, everything returned to normal. I don't gave a fuck about faith, redemption, and the threesome who mistakenly took me there. Was the same motherfucker ever, idle, dirty bastard and hedonistic. And amazingly enough is, I'm happy!
The bitch, wink me and say:
-Now that we've seen the Bosch, let's add it an R?
* Hieronymus Bosch was a Dutch painter. Bosch produced several triptychs. Among his most famous is The Garden of Earthly Delights.
In portuguese, Bosch has similar pronunciation has Broche, wich means Blowjob.
