Mistério é arma de plástico com água dentro. Um homem que sabe o que quer é uma metralhadora.

 Tati Bernardi - link

amor é que é sujo e perverso

A única putaria possível, fazemos com quem amamos. A maior pornografia que existe é o amor. Só no amor é possível ficar enlouquecido de tesão com uma mancha estranha nas costas da pessoa, com um pelo solitário que você encontra em algum centímetro de pele escondida, com uma posição que não favorece a barriga, com pés tortos e caretas estranhas. O amor acontece quando você não tem nojo de saborear toda a pessoa sem cerimônias ou limitações. O amor é quando não se pensa no sexo, apenas se faz para não morrer. Amor é sexo não cerebral, um fluxo ignorante que nos liberta completamente. Amar é nunca ter que pedir: “perdão, você pode tomar um banho?” Amar é infinitamente mais sujo, perverso e doentio do que transar com qualquer pessoa suja, perversa e doentia num banheiro de uma balada suja, perversa e doentia. Aquilo que você faz, num lençol branco e limpinho, com a pessoa que você conhece há tantos anos, é muito mais perigoso que uma loucura com um desconhecido qualquer. Essa putaria rolando solta pelas noites afora não passa de desculpa medíocre de gente que sente inveja do amor. O amor é para os verdadeiros aventureiros, corajosos, desbravadores. O sexo selvagem e casual é coisa de menininha.

 Tati Bernardi - link

today i'm feeling in portuguese

Minha irmã leu isso pra mim hoje. É do Fernando Pessoa :

"Basta pensar em sentir
Para sentir em pensar.
Meu coração faz sorrir
Meu coração a chorar.
Depois de parar de andar,
Depois de ficar e ir,
Hei de ser quem vai chegar
Para ser quem quer partir.
Viver é não conseguir."

Eu pensei nisso o dia inteirinho e fiquei triste, triste.

Que tristeza é a gente ter que abrir mão de quem a gente gosta para nos tornar indiferentes, sejam quais forem as circunstâncias. Seja por uma história que não deu certo, por improbabilidade de vingar, ou porque outros acham que não é pra ser. "Larga disso, parte pra outra".

Como se essa fosse a ordem evolutiva das coisas, e não o contrário! Você gosta, aí ama, aí fica indiferente. É isso? Confere? Como se o amor que morre de morte prematura, de aborto, sem chance de sobreviver o dia, nos tornasse pessoas melhores, mais fortes e evoluídas.

Não faz sentido nenhum pra mim. Pobre deles que nem conseguem gostar.

"Amar não é um vexame. Escândalo mesmo é a indiferença."

total blindness

You know what the irony is? Everyone tells me that being with him would be settling for less, but all I can think of is how a person like him is ever going to like a person like me.

Catarina e o amor

Esta é uma história real. Catarina é filha de uma amiga nossa e tinha 4 ou 5 anos quando se apaixonou pela primeira vez. O escolhido foi um coleguinha do clube, e ela passou a querer se vestir melhor para as aulas de natação, desfilando todo o seu charme quando o garotinho, três anos mais velho, estava por perto. Um dia, Catarina quis levar para seu eleito um presente, e escolheu aquilo que para ela era a prova inegável de amor: um Danoninho. Saiu sorridente, levando nas mãos a apetitosa declaração para o amado. O menino, ainda pouco ciente das sutilezas da sedução e pensando mais com o estômago do que com o coração, recusou o presente sem meias palavras: “Não quero”.
Desiludida e em prantos, Catarina voltou para perto da mãe com o veredicto sobre o ocorrido, que comunicou entre soluços:
– Mamãe, ele não sabe que quer o meu Danoninho!
A história de Catarina nos disse muito sobre o amor.
A mãe dela nos contou isso em uma mesa de bar, sorrindo e sentenciando pras amigas: “Coitada, tão nova e já tão iludida”.
Mas quantas vezes a gente não faz exatamente o mesmo que essa garotinha, preferindo acreditar que o outro não sabe ainda que quer o nosso Danoninho, o nosso telefonema, a nossa companhia, o nosso amor?
Ah, Catarina. Ah, Catarinas todas, essas almas apaixonadas transbordando de vontade de trocar. Às vezes correspondidas, às vezes não. Continuem tentando.
E um feliz Dia dos Namorados para quem encontrou quem queira receber o amor que você tem para dar.

das "Motherns" Juliana Sampaio e Laura Guimarães [roubado da Dri]

on how ducks can teach you a lesson; or on what I should have but did not learn from that duck

I once lived in an apartment building in Indianapolis with a really cute lake view. Everything was absolutely great, except for the fact that a huge duck used to hang around the front entrance. HUGE, with a big tongue and everything. I mean, did you even know ducks have tongues? That just goes to show you how big that thing was. SCARY. That was the kind of duck that starts planning the chase of death once it sees you coming two miles away.

I remember planning my day around that duck's schedule, always making sure I didn't come home with bags of groceries late afternoon, because that was usually when he was standing right by the front door, as you can see from the scheme above. Leaving that building involved a whole exit strategy. I have once cried because of the duck. I lived in that building for 2 long years, timing my life around that bird.

All of a sudden I find myself in a somewhat similar situation.

Except now it's not a duck.

.

I was reading old posts from this blog, as I sometimes do, just to remind myself how life changes fast. Then I found this post I wrote about 3 years ago, which also reminded me of how I've become such a professional at forcing myself to get over people and things:

...It's about people who come to your life for a certain period of time but they don't come to stay. And that doesn't mean you shouldn't give them your best, that you shouldn't jump in head first, that you shouldn't hold on to those memories as much as you can. You love them, you build stories together, things go wrong and you see your castles fall. Then you learn to love better, and build stronger castles that will more than likely fall again, and you keep moving on until you have a long list of places that are hard to revisit because all you can think of was how happy you once were there. How much you wish you could put that feeling in a bottle and take it with you wherever you go.

Then one day you bump into that person that at one point meant the world to you, and now he's almost a stranger, and it just so happens that the person you were back then is also long gone.

It might sound sad, but seriously, isn't that a nicer perspective?

It's easier to deal with things that way.

You love, you live it as hard as you can, and you move on.

And it's not the end.

i am the switzerland of relationships

"...Switzerland. It's very neutral there and they make very nice watches."

I'm happy.

Like I hadn't been in a long time.

It turns out that we get used to everything in this life, and that includes bad things; poor treatment; people who don't lift you up. I have the best group of friends one could ask for, and a person who came into my life and brought along what I can only describe as sunshine. A person who challenges me everyday to become the woman I know I can become and who I already see myself turning into. I'm throwing myself at the idea of being cared for, of being vulnerable sometimes. He's dared to push my buttons, he makes me mad, he touches on areas of my life I'm not at all comfortable with. He's making a mess and I'm completely grateful for it.

The lady on the picture is Sophia Loren. But it could totally be me.

Good to be bad sometimes.

her: OH, NO, YOU DIDN'T!
me: OH, YES, I DID.

yes, girls poop too

I found this today and it made me laugh so hard, because I spent about an hour last night with a group of friends talking about the hassle of having to poop when you're in a relasionshio. For some reason, a lot of women insist on pretending to their boyfriends and husbands that everything they ingest magically disapears in the stomach. "Intestins? Hmm, no, I don't believe I have that organ." Get over yourselves, women. YOU POOP AND YOU KNOW IT.

"Finally! We're acknowledging female poo!

Poo-Pourri is a discreet little bottle of spray that is composed of 'a natural blend of essential oils' that you're meant to spray in the toilet before you go-go. The spray creates a film on the top of the toilet water, which then apparently 'traps' the 'embarrassing odors'.

This nifty little bottle of anti-funk will come in handy in various situations. You know, like pooping at the office, pooping on vacation, pooping in a public toilet, pooping at your inlaws, etc, and it will fit right into your handbag." [via]

I have a new crush. The big and complicated kind. The best kind there is.

I love you but...

[via]

"you’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for."

it's complicated

"Only the young and stupid are confident about sex and romance. Do you think any of us know what we’re doing? Do you think there’s any way humans can love each other without complication? You should see how it happens in Bali, darling. All these Western men come here after they’ve made a mass of their lives back home, and they decide they’ve had it with Western women, and they go marry some tiny, sweet, obedient little Balinese teenage girl. I know what they’re thinking. They think this pretty little girl will make them happy, make their lives easy. But whenever I see it happen, I always want to say the same thing. Good luck. Because you still have a woman in front of you, my friend. And you are still a man. It’s still two human beings trying to get along, so it’s going to become complicated. And love is complicated. But still humans must try to love each other, darling. We must get our hearts broken sometimes. This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something."

[via this is my heart. it is a good heart.]

dear ex-boyfriend...

I regret to bring to your attention a highly important matter in which you were unfortunately and detrimentally misinformed.

I have recently discovered—with the assistance of various and sundry battery-operated devices—that I am actually multi-orgasmic (42 in one go at last count). Multiple orgasms are not a myth propagated by hardcore staunch feminists, as you were apparently led to believe. And neither is the G-spot. The jury is still out on female ejaculation, however. I shall keep you duly informed, as a matter of public service.

Sincerely,

Ex-Girlfriend (no longer in a coma)

+++++++++++

I'm loving Down in Me

that's love, in a nutshell

and that is why I love her

Advice from my friend Abi via IM on what to do about a specific topic of my life:

i think you should say "mr. mustache, i realize that you have MANY issues, but if you want to work something out with me you need to make it your goal to get your shit together. I think you're really great, but i think i'm more awesome."

[via ffffound]