!mamãe já foi trapezista: November 2005

kermit the frog

kermit the frog says: hey, i'm people too!

and what should i do now?

decision-making must be faced bravely. ;P

take a valium pill

i've stopped taking the pills that made me stay happy.

"Certas coisas do amor a gente aprende na feira da esquina: não supervalorize o que quer comprar ou dobrará de preço"

Kitsin Heiden

peguei isso no fotolog do zazo > www.fotolog.net/zazoguerra

gostei. ;)

Visions of love recollected
Have we ever been true?
I know that I have, it's time for you to go
It's all in the stones that you throw
I want you to know
It's not like we'll be parted
It's not like we'll never know love

> jonathan david. belle and sebastian <

...

quem é esse menino? ele fala português?
uhum.

os pobres também choram

"funny how letters repeat themselves along the continuum," he thought after having stumbled on his own reflection in the sideway mirror. he felt sorry for those around him, but there wasn't much he could do about it. he had been beaten up before - way before they even started coming in and in and gushing into his life in hordes. now he was tired. and he thought everyone could see that. he was beside himself now - in anger, in bitterness, in moodiness. hell, yeah. he thought the world could see him. couldn't he see through people at times after all? why did people have to think him any big shit he wasn't? he wasn't a writer. no, he kept repeating those words to himself as though they were his own powerful mantra. and people had to realize that. he didn't even take good pictures! all he ever did was show his big fat face off in people's screens. wasn't that obvious? showing off, that was the name of the game. he was convinced of his effeteness and powerlessness and nothing people said was going to change his mind about that. he didn't want labels. he was tired of them. he had lived his entire life under them. and had been plagued by them. as a kid, he was labeled a wuss, a chicken; he was called sissy. joining in the boys' gang was not something he could've done back then. the girls didn't want him either. he wasn't cute enough - or funny, or anything else that might have appealed to them. he was... himself. a misfit. all but a misfit. he grew up into teenagehood, his tastes unequaling those of his peers. an outcast, he tried to join in what he considered "the counterculture group". that, too, he was denied. he looked too geeky, with his face full of blemishes and his greasy-lensed glasses. he then chose not to belong. those were the most difficult years. he had to convince himself that he ignored people's presence (and existence, too). but deep inside he knew he was the one who had been ignored all along. the one on whom they had turned their backs. in his college years, he decided to change all that. "i'm gonna be someone i'm proud of. people will respect me. they will, alright," he'd often think. it was true. they did respect him. not because of who he was, but because of what he had, because of the knowledge he'd amassed over all those years sitting in the dark corners of the library as he picked up dusty books from the shelves, books no one he knew had ever had. so he cultivated his own self, fleeing what he termed "mainstream" till the time came when he fell in love. he fell in love with another guy. but could that be happening to him? it wasn't. it was but a crush, but for all he could tell he was in love. in pursuit of his new-found "love", he did what he could to "acculturate" and look like the people around him. he got himself new clothes, new glasses, new pants, new tastes. he wanted to fit in, that's all. he dressed himself in a whole new character, one that liked all the latest cool albums and took feminism classes along with a bunch of riot grrrls. but he didn't mean to harm people. he didn't mean to trick them. or perhaps he meant - not out of cruelty, but out of necessity. having been plagued by existence, wasn't he allowed a share of happiness and comfort for himself too? so he sobbed and sobbed. and started writing, the words flowing out as he hit the keys in meaningless tangles... because that was all he could do to find relief - from himself, perhaps. and solace, too. that was his safe haven. his own little corner of the world, where, at last, he could be himself, away from the inquisitive eyes of The Other.

tem isso aqui tb, ó...

achei uma foto da whitie e do chico. nem lembrava que tinha postado foto deles nesse site > http://www.cobasi.com.br/site/mural/det_foto.asp?ID=4&muralID=1498

O_O

estava eu sem mais nada pra fazer e decidi "googlar" meu nome {marcus murilo} pra ver o que achava. essa história de colocar o nome das pessoas no google é uma coisa que eu faço sempre pra descobrir o que as pessoas andam fazendo por aí... hohoho ^^'
enfim, o que eu descubro??? *PLIM* um poema que eu escrevi há anos atrás sobre futebol serviu de inspiração pra um carinha escrever outro poema. "puta merda," eu logo pensei, "não acredito que alguém realmente leu aquele lixo." pois é, mas leram.

the state i am in²

The State I Am In

I was surprised, I was happy for a day in 1975
I was puzzled by a dream, stayed with me all day in 1995
My brother had confessed he was gay
It took the heat off me for a while
He stood up with a sailor friend
Made it known upon my sister's wedding day

I got married in a rush to save a kid from being deported
Now she's in love
I was so touched, I was moved to kick the crutches
From my crippled friend
She was not impressed 'cause I cured her on the Sabbath
I went to confess
When she saw the funny side, we introduced my child bride
To whisky and gin

The priest in the booth had a photographic memory
For all he had heard
He took all of my sins and he wrote a pocket novel called
"The State I Am In"
So I gave myself to God
There was a pregnant pause before he said ok
Now I spend my day turning tables round
In Marks & Spencer
They don't seem to mind

I gave myself to sin
I gave myself to Providence
And I've been there and back again
The state that I am in

Oh love of mine, would you condescend to help me
'Cause I am stupid and blind
Desperation is the Devil's work, it is the folly of a boy's empty mind
Now I'm feeling dangerous, riding on city buses for a hobby is sad
Why don't you lead me to a living end
I promised that I'd entertain my crippled friend
My crippled friend

the state i am in

é, eu me sinto mesmo um pouco essa música. ;)

¬¬

nossa, tenho medo dessas pessoas bonitas demais. credo. acho... bizarro.

badooba

queria postar uma música aqui, mas não achei o mp3 dela. ah, mas eu nem procurei também. ahmmm... uhm. é.

bla

weeping in heaven[gotta change it] diz: venda o corpo!

sébastien, you're in a mess diz: ah nem

sébastien, you're in a mess diz: nao tenho coragem

sébastien, you're in a mess diz: ninguem ia comprar

weeping in heaven[gotta change it] diz: eu compraria *blushes*

sébastien, you're in a mess diz: ai q bom

sébastien, you're in a mess diz: quanto vc pode pagar?

weeping in heaven[gotta change it] diz: 1 real

weeping in heaven[gotta change it] diz: mas é fiado

sébastien, you're in a mess diz:cretina!

i'm an indie snob

You're just too cool for school, aren't you? You're pretty narrow minded and opinionated with regards to music (and probably most other things as well). But you're allowed to be, because you really are better than everyone else. You take pride in obscurity. You probably prefer vinyl too, you elitist bitch.

how indie are you? > http://home.iprimus.com.au/sparvin/indie.htm

oba, oba, she's my shoo-shoo

A Minha Menina

Ela é minha menina
E eu sou o menino dela
Ela é o meu amor
E eu sou o amor todinho dela
A lua prateada se escondeu
E o sol dourado apareceu
Amanheceu um lindo dia
Cheirando a alegria
Pois eu sonhei
E acordei pensando nela
Pois ela é minha menina
E eu sou o menino dela
Ela é o meu amor
E eu sou o amor todinho dela
A roseira já deu rosas
E a rosa que eu ganhei foi ela
Por ela eu ponho o meu coração
Na frente da razão
E vou dizer
Prá todo mundo
Como gosto dela
Pois ela é minha menina
E eu sou o menino dela
Ela é o meu amor
E eu sou o amor todinho dela

Minha menina, Minha menina...

fold your hands, child

"He made up some excuse to see you
You said you didn't feel a thing
Tired of all the dramas, maybe
But still the moment you hear
The moment you know
I'm sure you'd come running, baby
Sure, the moment you hear
That he really wants you..."

rockstar frustrado

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lovefoxxx/

http://www.trama.com.br/portalv2/css/

/

Geneticists claim ageing breakthrough but immortality will have to wait

d^^b ))) tempo no tempo/ mutantes {apropriado....}

;

just nineteen and sucker's dream
i guess [you] thought you had the flavour...

?

você tem isqueiro*?

*misspelling? misspelling? misspelling?

d^^b ))) placebo

Is this your idea of glamour?

Is this your idea of glamour?

The US used chemical weapons in Iraq - and then lied about it

The US used chemical weapons in Iraq - and then lied about it

.the boy done wrong again.

on saturday i was an angel shining fair
you shone louder, longer
you put my shine to shame
put me to shame now
what is it i must do to pay for all my crimes?
what is it i must do?
i would do it all the time
do it all the time now
all that i wanted was to sing the saddest songs
and if you would sing along, i will be happy now...

todos querem ser marilyn!

http://www.orkut.com/Community.aspx?cmm=6392593

goodbye, caroline.

Put on your shoes, girl
I'm going to the coast
Where every loser
Gives up what hurts the most
And all those haunted
Unlucky guys get told
Who's really wanted

...

Goodbye, Caroline
You're my favorite faith healer
Goodbye, everything

...

you're not special

you grow up used to making silly little thingies out of playdough and then one day you realise your art is crap. and then you think you're no big shit anymore. and you realise your mom had been lying to you all along... and then you take a handful of those awful-looking pills your dad leaves in the kitchen cupboard just above the stove - but they fail you. and you remain... like all other things in life. and then you think "what the heck! and what am i doing this for, anyway?" and then you get yourself caught in love. "it's oh-so-pure," you say. and then you realise there's nothing to it but lust, and lust, and lust. and lust ends up being the only good thing you'll ever have. and then you leave home and get yourself a half-decent apartment to live in on your own. and then you get yourself a cat, but hey! guess what? the cat got dead. and what you're gonna do about that? get yourself another cat? no, i don't think so - you're too lazy for that. you then get yourself a flowerpot. and you start growing little pinkish flowers in it and then they bloom and make your room feel so complete you'd trade anything else you deem good for that particular feeling they evince. and then you think "wow! happiness, eh? so this is it". but then your friend starts complaining about how canadian you sound and the cycle starts all over again...

...

estudantto diz:
Ah lambers

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
whatever...

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
you scare me.

estudantto diz:
filuhrpoighoir32809utç

estudantto diz:
morderbers suvacmbem4rtlkmy6klh

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
12.0

estudantto diz:
4-7994w7989t5u867

estudantto diz:
Entendenbwers:?:/

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
ah claaaaaaro

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
O.ô'

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
=P

estudantto diz:
Você mora onde?

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
ah vc tava fazendo isso com o cotovelo?

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
{moro em brasilia}

estudantto diz:
Ahnnnn?

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
ah, deixa pra la....

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
^^

estudantto diz:
Queria beijar na boca

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
ah, eu não

estudantto diz:
Que pena

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
eu sou frígido.

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
)=

estudantto diz:
Ah, eu é quem sou

estudantto diz:
Mas to afim de curtir, oras

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
nao eh nada

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
seu falso frígido!

estudantto diz:
Ah come marmelada

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
marmelada não me dá tesão....

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
nem gelo.

lambe o meu sovaco. diz:
e vc?

=/

acho muito engraçado esse povo que reclama da inutilidade e futilidade da televisão no orkut. LOGO NO ORKUT! há! parece até piada... ¬¬

i wanna be your space invader.

http://www.hugi.is/hahradi/bigboxes.php?box_id=51208&f_id=1075

diy-ers, unite! ;D

http://www.ohmystars.net/craft/

H o u s e S w e e t H o u s e

Zóinc! Zóinc! Zóinc! Eram as panelas, as gavetas, os talheres. E regendo tudo: ele, o pai na cozinha. De repente, a mãe grita de algum lugar não distante – claro, a casa nem era tão grande assim. Ela exigia silêncio. Mas que barulhada toda era aquela, ora pois! O pai então enfezou-se, ordenando-a que não mais lhe enchesse o saco, pois ele nunca lhe perturbava durante as madrugadas enquanto ela fazia os talheres ressoarem pela escassez da casa. Ela então enfureceu-se, com ira divina. Começou então a orar, orações que os anjos haviam lhe ensinado, dizia-se.