A Fitting Excerpt from Pessoa

I don’t know how many souls I have.
I’ve changed at every moment.
I always feel like a stranger.
I’ve never seen or found myself.
From being so much, I have only soul.
A man who has soul has no calm.
A man who sees is just what he sees.
A man who feels is not who he is.

Attentive to what I am and see,
I become them and stop being I.
Each of my dreams and each desire
Belongs to whoever had it, not me.
I am my own landscape,
I watch myself journey -
Various, mobile, and alone.
Here where I am I can’t feel myself.

That’s why I read, as a stranger,
My being as if it were pages.
Not knowing what will come
And forgetting what has passed,
I note in the margin of my reading
What I thought I felt.
Rereading, I wonder: “Was that me?”
God knows, because he wrote it.
__________________________________________________
Não sei quantas almas tenho.
Cada momento mudei.
Continuamente me estranho.
Nunca me vi nem achei.
De tanto ser, só tenho alma.
Quem tem alma não tem calma.
Quem vê é só o que vê.
Quem sente não é quem é.

Atento ao que sou e vejo,
Torno-me eles e não eu.
Cada meu sonho ou desejo,
É do que nasce, e não meu.
Sou minha própria paisagem,
Assisto à minha passagem,
Diverso, móbil e só.
Não sei sentir-me onde estou.

Por isso, alheio, vou lendo
Como páginas, meu ser.
O que segue não prevendo,
O que passou a esquecer.
Noto à margem do que li
O que julguei que senti.
Releio e digo, «Fui eu?»
Deus sabe, porque o escreveu.

Get out of Town

His name was Fernando and he was too sweet for his own good. He loves Reggae and American Morenas. He looks at me curiously waiting for the smile he loves and out of nowhere, unexpected, his smile brightens my heart. At first glance, he seems so serious. He works every day but Sunday as the manager of this store in Vitoria. But put on some reggae music and youd think he was born in Jamaica. He smart and fun, but he follows my lead. I know nothing of his culture and he litle of mine, but he watches me to see what I want, or what I think is appropriate. He doesnt assume he knows me or what Im like and even though we dont always understand each other, weve figured out a way to be sensitve enough to gestures and expressions to get around it. But Caetono Veloso says it best. I shouldnt have met him. I need to get out of town.

Meu anjo, voce e demais.



My poor translation:
"There arent many profound studies about the kiss. Probably, in the middle of the search, the scientists discovered is much sexier to actually kiss than to go out and research it."

Preach, little chocolate bom bom. Thats what Im talking about.

And its Supposed to be Love

"Its a sad and lonely sound. Sour grapes and tears. Something dark is going on-going on for years."

Before I left, I remember how worried you all were that my safety would be in jeopardy visting Brazil. You warned me that it would be a different world, the second world I suppose they call it. Here the profound inequities between the rich and the poor provide an unstable atmosphere for every Brazillian citizen. The insecurity is classless. You would rarely find someone listening to their ipod on the bus. The night before, I met a guy who told me that if I were to ever be robbed, not to look my robber in the eyes and not to run. Just to give the person what they want. I had always thought running would be best because they might kill you anyway, but he let me know that a lot of these people who steal do drugs and if you frighten them, they may go off.

There is something else that I feel like Im learning though. There are no different people. There are different places and things to become accustomed to, cultures and customs-but there was never one human different from another. There is no child here who can care for himself or herself better by the virtue of his or her experience. Their innocence is universal. Their eyes may be wider but their skin is not thicker. They are impressionable, sweet and vulnerable. They walk home alone or go by bike. People here are not less afraid just because it is their terrain, only more careful. Can you imagine? Somehow I thought maybe they were born prepared but what sense does that make now? We do what we need to do out of necessity. Nobody is fit for this. No child deserves a street education or to go hungry or to die of boredom. I looked down the road today, in the intersection in front of Cadec and noticed how the path led down to a rural area with farms, and trees and fruit that grows sweet-and I thought about myself and everything I am so far. At 20 I have traveled the world, worked, gone to college and am getting ready to begin my career in music. I am not a vessel of uncertainty. I have a family and friends back home with great expectations. In my mind live a thousand dreams and in my life a million possibilities. What is this backroad interlude? I am curious about its invisibility. Surely in New York, I would have never imagined a road in Terra Vermelha, Red Land that leads to endless country where I will find miles of beautfiul nothingness, there but disconnected from the world.

If I went, if I had just crossed the street and walked down that road I would find that I am nothing just like everybody here. Down these streets that are really there, hidden behind the few social institutions is the reality that these kids face-the milk honey and vinegar that is their day to day. I could be that. I could have been that. Down that street Id find the content that is just living, no more politics of identity. Just who you are, mom pop, your brothers and sisters and the neighbors you bike to school with. Back there Id find the content of what it is to live, minus the abstract experience of it. Its got its certain asthetic appeal. But its too late-Im me. And I will be coming home. I think.






Today was a great day. We through a party for everybodys birthday in the last few months. Caleb and I got into the festivites and you can see below. But every day my heart is heavier knowing that soon I will be Tia Nicoli no more.

We were worried about my safety here, whether I could take care of myself. But look into their faces, do they look ready?










"Who knows what the end will be, it aint over yet..."

The more I become Brazillian, the less I write poetry about Brazil. AHHHHH! Do you get it?

I promise Im gonna get back on here and do a major updating soon. For now Id like to simply inform you that one, my mom and sister are coming in 6 days which I am soooooo crazy excited for, everybody over here is crazy excited. And also, that I am having an existencial crisis. Im about halfway through my trip. Halfway? Halfway. When I speak to you guys back home, I am reminded where my heart is. But I have been reborn here in Brazil. Remember the photos from my neighborhood from one of the first blogs? Those are still my closest friends here. The problem is Im netiher just passing through or staying long enough to satisfy myself. I love these people. Some of them actually know me. Some of them see me almost every day. Some of them live in my condiminium. It is not that I feel Brazillian, I still feel like the American morena, its just that I have a place now. When I leave my heart will hurt, and years will go by itll seem like it was a dream. They all tell me theyre gonna come to new york and stay with me-but there is something that tells me my worlds will never collide.

Let me tell you something about living dreams that you had and finding out that its even better in reality. Dont do it. Stay at home. Marry the guy next door you always got along with. Dont come here and look at these stars. Dont come here and love these beatiful and sensitive men. Stay home and get accustomed to the cold. It isnt worth it. Write poetry about what you think castles look like. Write articles about what you think poverty looks like. But stay there, leave some artistic distance. Because you will come and find that its prettier, bigger and heavier than you imagined. You will learn why you were born with tearducts and you will fall in love with red land and dying things. Dont come and find out which child has aids. Dont watch Stefani bike home on a broken leg. Come here on vacation and stick to the beach.

Leave your dream in the abstract form. I beg you.

Restless Nights

An excerpt from my diary last week. Since, I have been armed with a new fan, raid and more bug spray. My hands are like lightning and I am constantly on mosquito watch. Dengue is a serious issues here, and it is caused by mosquitoes. If I were to get it, it would knock out all my remaining time. Lets hope for the best

I get, on average, no more than four to five hours of sleep in this hell trap of heat and relentless bugs. It is 2am, and I sit alert with my enemy across the table, the two of us waiting for the other to fall asleep. I know i will not fall asleep tonight. I switch from couch to couch, bed to bed and the hell of my disquiet continues to be relentless. The four hours my body steals from my consciousness is just enough to keep my face from melting off. And coffee. I wonder again at the prupose of your tiny existences. Soley to bug me? To test my character? I remember that you will bury me, but at least allow me these moments to rest!

I long for my bed at home, cool and refreshing-my dark blue comforter falls over me in waves of satisfation. I need it now like I need a man-everything else is just surviving without its presence. I am nostalgic for the time when an occasional spider bite was an event that occured once a week. And even that was an issue. Imagine now, a place whre food left out is englufed by a swarm of hundreds of ants-hungry and vulgar-desperate to consume your meager daily portion. Like the person wqho rushes past you to get the seat on the bus, they got their first, what can you say-next time.

I remember I once saw a documentary that left me itchy and disturbed. It was about the insects, tiny and benign, that live in your clothes, on your skin and inside your body. I hate them. I know mom, you dont like when i say hate-but I have a genuine distaste for these tiny monsters who take pleasure in leaving scars all over my once scarless legs. Pleasure on vicously feeding on my flesh while Im still living. Thank God they only itch. I can feel them thinking and wanting more. When I watch them eat my food, out of curiousity for the grotesque, I swear they are watching me watch them. They are too many to not have a consciousness. An organized body of ants carries its dead in a most magnificent funeral procession.

I cant sleep. Maybe its only right that I cant sleep. How ignorant Ive always been of the fact they are my coinhabitants-as desperate to survive as I. Is this some gret irony? That they pick off of me in the same sens that I, in all my bourgeois glor, feed off the riches of the world and benefit from the people under me? the expression should go: mosquitoes, the great equalizer.

It makes me sad to think of infants, comforatble in their warm and cozy wombs, are shot out into a world where flies can eat their faces. And there skin becomes accustomed to the bites of tiny vicious things. As I think this, an infant yawns with indifference as an innocent fly curiously buzzes around. The bugs are quietly exploring our crevices, and testing my patience. I yawn and remember the part about the worms lining our digestive track. The early bird wasnt early enough.

The Black Movement in Brazil

Remember Tiago, the young kid I told you I met at the environment program I went to a couple weeks back?(If not flip´back a few posts) Well he hit me up with this message this weekend:

´Entrei em contato com o lider do movimento do povo Negro do Espirito Santo.
ele esta esperrando eu marca uma reunião coom vocs e eles bom espero que voces
entre em contato.

me passe seu fone´

My poor gringo tranlsation:

I made contact with the leader of the black movement of Espirto Santo. He is waiting for me to mark a day for a meeting with you guys and they cant wait to meet you.

Send me your number.

Crazy excited yall! Seek and you shall find. So I did a little research so as to not be entirely in the dark about the movement when we meet these guys. I had no idea how connected Raybans was with these social movements. Im folowing the blog, actually, for this movement so check the sidelink if you wanna check it out(go to google translator to read some of the speeches, it translates a little better than I thought it would.) The leadership is intellectually powerful, the words and metaphors provoked to describe Lulas new Estatuto de Promoção da Igualdade Racial(A bill on racial equality), is reminiscent of America civil rights movement and black consciousness in South Africa. All in all, Im feeling it. Theres an energy there, check this out:

Os anos pós-Abolição; com o subemprego, a favelização, o preconceito aonde chegava em razão da cor de sua pele e a discriminação racial que sofria ao bater as portas do mercado de trabalho, mostrou à negrada a outra face - a verdadeira se alguém tem dúvida - daquela “lei redentora” e dissipou suas esperanças de uma vida melhor como emancipada, até porque, as novas relações de trabalho “estranhamente” o único beneficiado era o branco, o imigrante europeu.

'The years after abolition, with underemployment, the shanytowns, the prejudice where the bias existed because of his skin color and racial discrimination that he suffered while hitting the doors of the labor market, demonstrated to the negro the other face-the truth if anyone has any doubt-that the ´law of redemption`(abolition) dispelled his hopes of a betetr life after emancipation,because the new working relationships ´strangely´ only benefitted the white European immigrants.´

Wowwow, what does this sound like yo? Thas some Frederich Douglass, James Baldwin, Steven Biko shit! If for nothing more than, this literature, Im hooked. These are some strong words, blantantly evoking the history of slavery to addrress current inequities-a feat most moderate african americans activists have recently tended to avoid due to the negative reaction of the American public at large. I am inspired by these guts Im reading-and Brazillians like even less to look their past in the face than Americans do.

I am an emerging advocate of ethnocentricity for all the good reasons like cultural cohesion and progress and none of the bad reasons like cultural isolationism. If you are proposing that the reason for social inequities goes beyond the coincidence of geographic location and touches the subject of racial discrimination then you are already talking to me about the importance of advocating for the civil rights of these targeted racial groups. International development requires a partnership beyond racial lines but we dont address the problem if we dont look institutional racism in the face. Were somehow missing the point if we make it illegal to pay men more than women on the basis of gender and then dont focus any of our resources on unteaching sexism, a movement is necessary. So much inequality, so little time.

The Americans

The companionship of english speakers(americans in particular), has indeed been a relief. Other than Fabi, our Philly friend whose rediscovering her Brazillian roots and living with an exchange student who stayed with her in the past, I met two Texans on business here, working in machinery for oil drilling, or mining was it...I cant remember, anyways they were def chill and I felt all grownup chillin with all them in their fancy penthouse in Praia da Costa.


Unlike I did when I was younger, I dont feel uncomfortable hanging out with an older crowd. We drink and talk and laugh and I follow what theyre saying. I think this is really what Ive been needing, a more sophisticated vibe with people who have something to talk about, you know? I like getting advice from people whose years are a little ahead of mine, yet being respected for the few things I do know. Def cool people. Craig took Fabi and I out to this great Italian restaurant where we devoured this huge filled pizza and followed up with some Caipirina. If youre wondering, no, Im not in the least bit getting tired of Caipirina. It is the staple drink of Brazil, but I feel like everytime I have it, its different. Member when you made this for me down in Florida, Paulo? It was a little strong then,but I think thats because you didnt use enough sugar. Ima hook it UP when i get back lol.
Problem is, it is the staple drink because it uses the staple liquor-cashaça, a piece of hell made from sugarcane that some people down like water over here. Man, I wouldnt use pure cachaça on my booboos, lol. Its basically ice, lime and sugar mashed up(but dont mash the lime up too much!) and then pour in that cachaça baby. You can substitute with vodka but its not the same thing. Actually thats called Capivodka, anyways, the stuff is good.

So we ate, went back to the hotel and talked and ate some cake and cookies and stuff. Sometimes you just need a few good people to make the atmosphere. Im learning alot from Fabi, who used to be a promoter for Def Jam, and is transitioning into being an artist under Universal. She knows a lot about the business and is letting me in on a lot of tips that I really appreciate. When she returns to Philly, Im def guna check out the music scene with her. Overall, shes a chill hustler.

I slept on the couch that night. In the air conditioning! It was the first time I slept with air conditioning the whole time that Ive been here. Like, imaginge someone from Survivor being offered a night in air conditioning. I showered in a nice hot hotel shower and slept soooo well. It couldnt last long enough. I fell asleep cheezing(now that I think of the image I knew it must have been pretty funny) I think that before I fell asleep, I was cheezing for like five minutes. LMAO, I think I dreampt like 50 times, man it was the bomb.

We woke up the next morning and Craigs chill ass gave us both 10 R to go purchase some breakfast for ourselves. At first it was strange, I mean, I knew he was getting paid, but I am not used to being given money just for being a friend. He said, thanks you guys are really cool, dont sweat it. It was strange, I am a woman who comes from means, unaccostomed to such treatment from males. But I appreciated it. Me and Fab ate at this place across the street and ordered some pao with queijo and presunto and the juice I know Ima miss when I get back. Just Bomb. Great night, good start to a day, and some damn good people.

When it Rains, It Pours

This photo speaks it all. After a normal rainy day that would be cause for little alarm in the states, the street in front of my house is flooded as if we were hit with a tidlewave. I have never seen anything like this. Wanna know why? They dont have gutters. Gutters, man. I have realized that I have even taken gutters for granted. There are some rainy days that students do not go to school because buses are not running, and they simply can not walk. I, on the other hand, decided to go get some food, and crossed the dirty straight. In chinelas. Im not as much of a girly girl as I look, but it was gross. Eww. Gracas a Deus that I didnt come out with a third toe. The waters are actually mixed with the sewage that pours into a ditch in the back of my condominium. If you ask what Brazilians what they think one of their biggest problems are, sewage tends to make the top four with AIDS hitting number one.

These guys are great, they work at the hamburger stand outside my condiminium and the flood didnt stop them!(man that bacon is worth wading for, lol) I asked them who will come in the rain, and as I said it, a car drove up to the stand. Yea, its that good.

Though it was kinda funny to have to pull my pants up to walk across the street, I certainly can see how fundamental issues like this can decapacitate a city. Imagine having to close your store when it rains too much. In the city center, I visited a region where the rains hit so much and so often that stores are made on stilts and are elevated. After asking why they didnt have gutters (which took me forever to ask because I didnt know the portuguese equivalent fro gutters), I was told that the commercial industry is relatively new, and so the city is facing a new host of issues. Before urbanization, the main industry was fishing, thus the marjority of families were unaffected by the downpours.

So many parties...its like its not even parties

As I drink my coffee in the morning, I party at night. So much that it feels like part of my daily routine....
I wish it was humanly possible to keep you consistently updated on the lifestyle, but it is all so much and so much to say that i tend to keep it to myself. I think, though, that its better that I get my thoughts out here so I dont have to answer a million questions when I get bak(which I prolly will have to anyway) So lemme try to answer some:

Are the women reallyas sexy as every one says?
No. Lol. Of course they are fine as hell. But not all of them. The ones who are sexy are really sexy. What is mostsexy about them is they they have a very unique look, if you look at their faces they all have something very different about them.
But it isnt quite what I thought it would be. Every Brazillian isnt the sexiest thang in the world. They got our same kinda ugly and our same kinda fat. And I dont think this is cuz they imported mcdonalds either. I think they was already like that. I swear I saw Raspuccia on the beach the other day.

And the men?
My completely unbias opinion is that the men are ten times sexier than the women. How is it that people dont be talkin about brazillian men all the time??? So fine I am currently unphased by fine(you kno Im lying) Tanned skin muscleheads walking around with no shirts on callin(oi gata!) and oi morena!! I would have to show you for you to really understand. Its just that, the frequency of fine is ten times higher than it is in the states. You are ten times as likely to find something sexy here than in the states. I speaks the truth

And the sexual energy?
Motels here are specifically for sex. They are called love motels. There is a love motel on every block. This is because most people live with their families so they have to rent out a motel room to have sex. I think this is nutz, your man has to pay to have sex with you(or woman...im sure they tradeoff) Like, grown people use love motels. Brazil has such a sexual culture, which is unfortunately why it suffers so horribly from AIDS. My friend told me that the school system is trying to ban dating in schools, this wont get rid of the problem man...Lovemaking is deeply engrained in brazillian culture.

Funky

The first new song is called Pente and the second is called Rebolation. The first is a example of contemporary Brazillian Funky which is str8 rapping over a beat. Nothing to crazy but def fun to dance to. When I first got here they were surprised that I could dance so well to it...pretty much the same movements as to hip hop so it wasnt so difficult. The song is talkin about love, sex and infedelity-funky is a sexual movment-the actual word Pente means a pack of bullets. I dont understand why it is called this, in fact nobody understands why it is called this. It is like a pacakge of sex and agreession over a song. And you dance. Yea

The second is called Rebolation. This is THE song of the summer. It has Bahian roots and it is very very very carnivalesque. Those of you who have experienced carnival in other countries should recognize the vibe. The word "rebolation" is just like shaking, moving your body around....thats pretty much the whole song. Im not saying the music isnt profound...just that its dance music. Every genre has its importance. I asked them how you dance to this and the response was, you just kinda move around. Easy enough. Can you samba to this?? btw, samba update: im learning....

The third is one of my favs, Cançao de Terra by Zelia Barboaa. A very old song that means "Song of the Land" It talks about the normal lives of the poor, death and poverty and the cycle. Im getting into Zelia, my favorite song of hers was this one called Cicatriz, but I couldnt find it on the link.

This week we visited a project called VidaVerde. I am in love with the creativity of its founder, a man named Joao. Basically, it is a form of econegocios(like green business)-they are a bank that accepts donations of foods from donors and sells food in its own tiny supermarket. The eco tradeoff works like this: people from the community bring in bottles or cans or frying oil(to be used for diesel) and deposit in the lot of VidaVerde. The person is then paid by the kilo in a made up currency that you can only use to buy food products in this supermarket. You have the option to cash in, but people here tend to be more socially conscious and keep the money in the community by buying from this supermarket. Once a week the city comes to pick up the trash and the cycle is restarted every week. You would be surprised at how many kilos of trash people carry in. This one dude came in a horse drawn carriage. Nutz. But I think its a great idea, it really kepps people ecologically conscious.

One of the founders was a boy of 19 years. He rolled in on his bike with some raybans and I figured he was someone to know, lol. After talking for a while, he let me know about a few student movements around the area and offered to give me a tour of the region. A couple of his causes are fighting AIDs, the environment of course and the black movement in espiritu santo. Black civil rights here is understood very differently. After slavery, there was a group of runaway slaves who escaped into the interior of brasil and formed these kilombos. Unlike the native american tribes of the amazon, kilombos are open to visitor and are alive with african traditions. The fight here is to expand the land of these people. Cant tell you how excited I was to find out about this, Ill keep you updated on the struggle.

Artistic Interlude

Monkeys and Coffee

This photo is of the little brother of Amanda. His eyes are always this alert-he is attentive and intelligent. I call him a little monkey and he doesnt like it. He pretends to cry. Caleb and I think hes so alert cause he has coffee in the morning like adults. Here, actually, it is normal to give children coffee in the morning. Monkeys, all of them.

Avatar

This is another Amanda who came over and was playing video games. This picture, to me, the blue light shining on her face reminds me of the avatar look. It is about how technology, used correctly, can bring out our inner light.

Blush

When I told the girls I had a date, they rushed me into the intimates section and told me I needcd to buy some sexy lingerie. They chose it out, lol. They told me I need to buy it for a very special night! Lol. I am calling it blush because I was embarrased to be trying on sexy lingerie in front kids. But I did think it was beautiful.

Graffiti?

So, I thought this was the funniest thing of all time. It is actual graffiti on my college campus and the words are: Where are the trees? Im used to seeing graffiti against racism, antisemitism and bigotry, but about the trees? Thats what Im talkin about-environmentalists on their game.

The Universe is Mental

This one is pretty self explanatory. I liked it cause Im a poet.

Light Through the Trees

Walking through my campus, taking pictures, I love best to walk below the forest of trees and look up. A metaphor of how we are both imporisoned by this earth yet freed by the fact of the beauty at our disposal.
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Brazillian Girlfriend

This is for you mandy! Flat Stanley has a hot brazillian girlfriend! To me, this symbolizes how plain average looking american dudes get with really sexy brazillian girls. Actually, it is a metaphor for how much more colorful Brazillians are than Americans. Flat stanley is hushing her up because americans are much more conservative.

Sleepy time, She comes

Beleza

There are some things, on these streets, that no inquisitive eyes should digest. No journalists should tread these slums, nor should the dainty feet of middle class lovers of life who cherish the balance of wealth and adventure their middle class status permits,ever walk these streets. There is some dirt that doesnt wash, blood that runs down the leg, that will never find redemption. Indeed it is a landscape of dirt. We are all equal here, Samuel alongside the chickens and dogs and horse, undisturbed by the vulgarity of coexistence. Night falls and Samuel finds the sidewalk a dog isnt already dying on.

Shots ring out and no one stirs. It could be death, or fireworks, but it wasnt you. This time. Even a tourist dressed down can not hide the smile in his soul, and the lazy eyes-inert after years without use. Time is measured in-time is not measured but maybe youll jack an unlucky visitor. What could be more intelligent than a human alive enough to live moment to moment? Even in my most profound intellectual sessions I am overcome by the intense need to relax my mind and I sleep, deeply and peacefully-and the angels shut my curtains, standing guard.

What is it-what is this life Ive been given. These fortunate days I have to comment on what a golden landscape God painted, eating the chocolate of the earth. What magic made me me-did I pay years of inferno to taste this fruit? Will I? Did I sell my soul to indulge? All the world is like walking through the louvre, admiring the art from afar. I reject my disdain for my own existence, regret is too 20th century intellectual. The introspection itself is a damned luxury. No, love it. Tell yourself the kids can take it and imagine it all a great karma. You are the lyrics to the music Ill write...later later later.

So these are my protest songs....against everybody whose making this world worse than it already is. The looters, the police, the politicians, the dogs the system the bigots, the racists, the robbers the killers. But mostly the people who say these assholes dont exist. I genuinely hate you all. This is my magic-look at me go. I will sing about you all, and paint about you all and stare your bigotry right in the face with my back turned to Gods land. This is the thing I was made to do, cover up your bruises with dirt. Money? What makes you think they wanna give you money? They dont even know what you look like. But maybe they will if you stand right there, yea in front of the dark brown building with the chickens in the background. Get the one with the green eyes, than put the rest of his face in black and white. See the money flowing now? Now youre art!

No, these streets are not even a place for artists. Its a place for foreign liars who can tell the world that poverty is beautiful and throwing bricks builds character. And I am not one of them.

So praise the stars and the wine. Praise italy for how beautiful you dream it is. Your fireplace and your air conditioning. Your loving God and your pots and pans. Praise everytime all 100 of your family members got together. The heat when its cold and the cold when its hot. Praise Death the great equalizer! And your infant you wrap up in happiness. I think marshmellows deserve a shoutout. Marshmellows and old age. Sleeping in yo nice big bed, even when you have to share it. Praise CNN, and fox news if your a bigot. The music and the art. But most of all, Id like to thank the Louvre and Paris for being nothing, beautifully.

Hang that on your wall, bitch.

An opinion of religion

I watch her in her aggressive defense of God and Religion and Christianity and lightning and thunder and heaven and hell and humans and angels and devils and fairys and trolls and monsters and closests and nightlights and gardens and apples and trojans and slaves and lyrics and mangers and beards and of love, and I find her so frighteningly human.
I think I am content to merely watch this noisy stream, dribbling like a baby into the calm waters of indifference....
__________________________________________________

In church, I hear the pastors speakings-
Like toddlers banging out chords.

But when I escaped
the universe was silent,
like the inside of a womb.

I would return, unafraid
into a trembling shell
a drop of knowledge falling into a black whole.

As we continue to be,
to speak love, is redundancy
-I am already crushed by prophecies
I have faith that God will be
a compilation of uncertainties.

Tonight I come down from my soul
and throw my blankets off. I run
naked into the fields where the stars and darkness
have no horizon and look up,
not to view the universe,
but so that is it burned by my inquisitive glaring.

Im open as the sea,
I sense you in the breeze
But I stand here, God, wanting you to see me.

You reply that to speak love
would be redundancy,
and I walk back home,
continuing to be.

All the music in the world
is not enough to ignite the electricity in my soul-
not if you pieced together all the screaming and jiving and raving and
judging and preaching and touching and even the loving.

But there is a certain single note,
not on any piano,
that can bring my death to life.

Chocolate Diaries

My Poor Translation:

"Dry mouth, heart palpitating and trembling is what composes what we call: love at first sight. But according to psychoanalysis, the correct expression should be: passion at first sight. Whatever the name, its damn good."

You ain´t never lied, little chocolate bom bom.

Numa festa de Reggae-Just another Wednesday Night

So Gaby put me on to this Cali band called Groundation that sings reggae music and is very popular in Brazil and apparently all over the world. They imitate reggae standards(mostly bob marley of course) and I felt right at home listening to the music before I went out. Despite the fact that most people dont know what the words mean(imagine how much more difficult a Jamaican accent is to understand for a Brazillian) they all know the words! They looovveee reggae here-it is like universal party starter.

The place was crazy packed and was like no other concert I ever went to. About 12 bucks to enter, it was this huge tent perched on top of a mountain with a gorgeous view of the port of Vitoria. Room for probably a thousand people( I could be exaggerating, Ive never been good with measurements) and any kind of drink u could think of at ur disposal. You never wait longer than 5 minutes for a drink.






What a jive...beautiful men and women, real sophisticated and funky, reggae blastin just like back home and of course people smoking weed right in the middle of the tent. A Brazillian reggae concert! Gaby and I met up with some friends of hers and danced all night. I decided to dress for the occassion...check the reggae colors...





I met all kinds of guys, some spoke to me in spanish-which definitely helped out my situation-most were chill, some I dodged, all were drunk. All in all, a fun night. And the view! God I wish you guys could be here to see it, they dont know how good they have it!

I met this guy named Fernando who, though I am usually not phased by the many beautiful men here(cuz there are so many),stole my heart with his kindness. Dont worry dad, hes chill. Things are so straightforward here, people dont like to play games, they are honest about their feelings. He told me that my smile makes him happy and he happens to live not too far from me! Momma, if u were here Id introduce you to him. Girls, I know you wanted to know about what men are like here and not too long ago I would have sed overly aggressive, hot and with a exaggerated sex drives. Of course this is generalization. Nando is passionate but calm, and we talk(at least try to) about personal things...deep things...I am sure I am overromanticizing everything, but can you blame me? If you stand right close to the edge, you get the very best view.