I just have one thing to say:

Westworld.

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The true meaning of happiness is illusion

What so called philosophers and religious people call “true happiness” is actually awareness of illusion and it’s fake feelings and emotions.

That one saying: Ignorance is a bliss, is the resume of it all.

That one scene in The Matrix movie where the guy who knows the truth and it’s already living outside the matrix and all, prefers to betray all his comrades and forget all about reality just in exchange for the felling of tasting a beef steak, even though it’s not real and he knows it — he can’t live without it.

We all live like this and keep pretending to ourselves that the fake pleasures and sensations are actually real:

  • The tasty yet unhealthy and cancerous food;
  • The fake relief of pornography;
  • The drugs and the alcohol and their fast and passing fell-good sensation, leaving us with and ever hollower soul;
  • Movies, fiction, media, and TV, distracting us from the fast-rotten reality;
  • The cars, motorcycles, buses, trains and airplanes, which make our lives easier and faster but destroy our lungs and respiratory tracts instead, contributing to a ever growing fat, lazy and sick society.

But still, like the Matrix guy, we prefer to live in denial of the evident truth.
We prefer to pretend everything’s fine and normal and it’s all going to get better and God will help us and all.

That’s why people who live their lives like they’re “supposed to live” — as obedient and thankful slaves — are the most miserable, dull and boring ones.

All they do is hate every minute of they’re lives, walk around all stressed up, closed and sad, just hoping for that little weekend brake where they intoxicate themselves as fast as they can and pass out only to wake to the same old routine again.

Slaves to themselves.
The worst kind of slavery is self slavery.
And that’s where our society is based upon.

The only happy ones are the kids who don’t know any better and still find pleasure in frivolous illusions like videogames, social media and entertainment.

The only good things I can think of are:

  • The practice of sports, which I think was the ultimate thing the human body was designed to do, hence the immense amount of pleasure it releases.
  • The sports for the mind: Mathematics.
  • And the sports for the soul: Volunteering.

Maybe some indigenous people who still live apart from our sick society — keeping it real to their original values — are last ones experiencing true happiness.

A happiness they don’t know that exist.

But a happiness that it’s compromised.
They’re just living in paradise until out society finds them and give them the gift of destruction and corruption — The acknowledgement of happiness.

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What is a mother?

Are we supposed to be near them?
Or keep a good distance?
What are their purpose?
What are they supposed to do?
What are we supposed to do with them?
Should we turn to them only when we’re in need of something?
Should we use them?
Should we suck the life out of them?
And what after they get all old and crancy and useless?
What should we do?
Keep taking care of them until they die or throw them from a pit like Dinosaurs told us so?
Should we use our time, presence and effort to care for them or should we pay very well trained personnel to perform this task for us while we enjoy are lives near the beach?
Or even better, should we curse them to the dark helms of public pension, transportation and healthcare? — All of this topped with neglect, alienation and isolation
And also, does or obligations extend to grandmother and grand-grandmothers?
Shoot!

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Açaí

Essa história de açaí…
Toda mulher diz que adora açaí
É sempre a mesma reação
Uma diz que gosta com frutas ou não
A outra responde: como assim? com frutas é muito bom
A outra fala: eu só com leite ninho e leite condensado
Todas terminam: hmmmmmmmm…
É sempre igual
Parece que foi ensaiado

E se isso fosse um código secreto das mulheres pra outra coisa?
As reações são muito engraçadas e parecidas
Deve ser algum tipo de código para o tamanho do pênis ou alguma posição sexual
Ou algo para falar sobre os homens presentes na sala sem eles perceberem

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I mean

If we construct our lives from a concoction of our actions, thoughts and emotions
I’ve been constructing all my life in from of a TV
And that’s where I am right now
And that’s where I end up being all the time
Eventually I’ll come back to my original place
That’s where I’ve been the most
And I feel the cravings when I not around it
And I desire it
Because us humans, are creatures of habits
And habits are cozy
I came to this conclusion while thinking about death
How come I live this life and keep living this life from time to time no matter where I go or what I do?
How come some people live their lives so differently and are exposed to such different matters?
Like, for example, a drug dealer or a killer somewhere
My friends from Quixadá for example, who can only think about drinking cheap hard licor all the time
They word and live for it,
They all lived like this their whole lives
Their thoughts, feelings, actions and emotions are always developed around that

How will I die?
Am I going to die in from of a TV?
Or can I change it?
Can I change the screen?
I’ve done it many times, switching the TV with the computer
But at the end of the day, those are just screens
And all my plans end up with me looking at a screen for a long time

Am I doomed?
My father said I used to watch too much television when I was young and that maybe gave me some not-so-clever ideas

I mean
I don’t have the balls to crank up a motorcycle like this guy just did in the street in front of my house

Am I doomed?

I mean
I’ve wanted to travel as well
And I did
I’m even doing it right now
But when I start, I settle
Because I want to take it slow and easy
I want to look around
To experience time
To absorb things slowly

And at same time, conversely
I’m also all fast-passed, looking at the internet and its constant stream of info

I wonder how much of who I am today it’s really me and how much of it is just fear and doubt forced into me by a money-chasing society

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I’m pink

I can’t tell a green field from a cold steel rail
I’m leading a role in a cage

I’m always ticking away the moments that make up my dull day
I fritter and waste my hours in an offhand way
I’m always looking or waiting for someone to show me the way

I’m young and life is long
and I think there’s time to kill today

but then one day I found that
ten years have got behind
and I’ve missed the starting gun

I’ve realized that sun is the same in a relative way
but I’m older, shorter of breath and one day closer to death

every year is getting shorter
and I never seem to find the time do to what I want
my plans always come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines

the time is gone
the song is over
and I thought I’d something more to say
but I’m just hanging on quiet desperation

tolling: tocar do sino
offhand: ungraciously or offensively nonchalant or cool in manner
fritter: waste time, money, or energy on trifling matters
trifling: unimportant or trivial
naught: nothing, zero
veil: véu
scribbled: write or draw (something) carelessly or hurriedly

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das antiga

eu via o email como familia
como amigos
como social

eu nao saia da minha casa
eu nao socializava com os vizinhos

eu ficava trancado ouvindo musica
lendo livro
tocando violao
vendo dvd
vendo anime
depois series
tv
tv
tv
tv
tv
tv
tv
programa de culinaria

I’m reacting to myself being myself on the
redes sociaisssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

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