Monday, December 08, 2008

Still Cannot Fix This Broken Machine


3: 00 a. m. 

The soft light of the lamp attacks me
I'm just leaving a precious dream 
The rays of light are so punishing 
I feel my heavy eyes like a fuzzy cloud 

I dreamed I was walking out from the sea 
The magic air of the beach crossed my lungs 
The mystic sand caressed my naked feet 

I was happy but now I'm pessimistic
Life seems to be a terrible dream 

Normally I am able to figure out why did I dream what I dreamed 
But I'm dizzy and numb and I had no idea 

She appeared out of nowhere
As I walked out from the sea 

She's someone I just met 4 or 5 months ago 
I swear I had never dreamed of her before
She's gorgeous and I like her 
But I never think of her 

Sunlight was so intense 
She said we will live in a forest

Suddenly, the beach turned into a big garden 
It was full of silly beautiful flowers and numb bees 
It turned into a vast empire of trees 

Her eyes were like an abyss 
And they were stacked inside my brain 
She said she liked to read and started to talk about English poets
None of them was familiar to me 

She said many names
They dropped like a cascade of words 
They were non sense names 

Cobaylan, Ginsburroughs, Rezapple, Morrijagger and so on  


It started to rain 
I was tired and I wanted to stop walking 
Raindrops hurt me and scared me 
I was afraid that she asked me for a name 
I did not want to screw it up 

She seemed so beautiful and able to please me 
She seemed too happy with me 

And then she lighted a cigarette 
I sensed we were in a battle field in Vietnam 
It was dark, humid and cold 

As she smoked, I could hear murmurs in mandarine 
I felt shaking chills 
Even when I was considering the possibility of dying 
I wasn't scared at all 

Her pupils were so dilated 
And she moved in a very strange way 
She kissed me 
Her lips felt like a burning touch 
And also like a freezing point dying on my skin  

I immediately thought of Ortsinn and Drucksinn 
I have read a lot of pages related to these topics in the last week 

As I was about to speak, she immediately kissed me again and again 

She stopped for a while and I found her eyes so violent and sweet 

I was petrified 

The dream finished abruptly 

Why?  

[Gave Up-NIN]

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

And The Stars Look Very Different Today


It's 3 o'clock in the morning 
The city has a silent mood
Meg White plays drums underneath my brain

I'm lying on the matress 
The blanket is full of cozy childish thoughts

I'm quite dumb 
In my dream, I repeated to myself 
'I would love to fall in love' 

The sunlight spots spit slowly into my mind 
I was in another bedroom
It was full of magical trees 
It was full of gigantic wooden buildings 

'How much do I desire to fall in love?', I asked to myself

I thought everybody lies, loves and hates on a daily basis
I saw myself as a stupid guy, sporadically writing and looking at the clock
Burned memories crossed the alleys of my brain
Maybe I was too stoned to understand all the symbols 

Suddenly, my left arm was damaged
It felt like if a hot needle scrapped thru my skin 

'Well, you're in love', I repeated to myself
There was a Queen possessing my brain 
She was a chubby girl and she looked like Meg White 

She raised her eyebrows and her eyes were covered with sun glasses 
Her lips were made up like a woman of nineteenth-century royalty
And I thought that she had a perfect vision and that her lips were murderous 


Off this space 
Burned memories floated like a sneeze  
As they crossed the alleys of my brain 

They were also soaked by some kind of bloody water 

'I like you so much...', I repeated to myself

My skin crashed with a deafening and invisible touch
I thought it was the way DNA exploded thru hallucination

'I cannot stop thinking about you...', I repeated to myself and I felt so guilty

You're so cruel, lady!
Leave me alone!

I still feel you
Inside my head
Scratching my skin 
Like a needle attached to a loaded heroin syringe

I'm counting backwards 
Like if I was about to escape from Earth 

This sensation is painful 
I hear this song out of nowhere 
As I remember you as Meg White 
As I feel devastated by the deafening drums 

I'm waking up 
I feel so thirsty that I could drink gallons of water 

3: 00 a. m.

This powerful silent mood of the night
Whispers to me like a drug

I'm too dumb and I still think about you 
I still close my eyes and I see you
I still sigh and I remember your smell 

You smelled like a nineteen year old girl
But your soul was an older soul 

You smelled like burning sex
Like starved Emperor penguins feeding each other
Thru the endless winter


[Space Oddity-David Bowie]

Monday, March 17, 2008

Music Is Like A Volatile Tiny Little Girl


This blog will be a writing experiment.

It will be inspired by music, literature, some pieces of science and women.
All these interests will somehow appear together on the posts.
They won't necessarily be coherent nor have rhythm. 
They will mainly be a confusing mix of reality and dreaming. 
They would mainly appear in the form of an unsatisfied desire.

Women are so important to me. 
My life would be hellish if they did not exist.  
At some point of my life, I fell in love with several women.
Most of the time, I wasn't what they were looking for. 

I hope none of the women I'm going to write about, feel offended in any way. (Obviously, I'm not going to reveal their real names. But if you know me a little bit, you easily will find who they really are.) 

Music is so important to me. 
I would be some sort of mentally ill guy if music did not exist. 
Music has been my most loyal companion. 
It's like a volatile tiny little girl.  

All the songs I'm going to write about are electrical transmitters of deep emotions. 

Dunno exactly why, but surely they will have been stored in my brain and they will come to the outside in some strange way. Some of them will eventually cut my throat. 

These songs I will write about, surely have made me (or will make me) feel extremely happy, angst, mad or sad. These songs will be my greatest hope at some apparently hopeless periods. 

I'll write about the way they provoke me and what kind of memories they remind me of. 


All the posts I'm going to publish will be based on dreaming. 

Reality sucks most of the time. 
Everything seems to be an appearance. 
Money seems to be the ultimate product of evolution. 

I hate that people be so simple and silly.  
They are the worst enemy of the world. 

Effortlessly, they seem to believe what do you do and what do you care about, only if you keep yourself telling them all the time what do you do and what do you care about. 

Even if you tell them all these things out of nowhere. 

It's exhausting. 

I don't find a reason to tell you every time that I like to write since I was born. 
I don't think you need to know if I play guitar since I was 14 years old. 
I don't believe you want to know if I'm caucasian or a neuroscientist fighting in the Third World, or just a guy with some sort of pathological attraction to loneliness. 
I don't consider important to speak you about the authors I love and what kind of novels I enjoy nor how many books I read each month. 

But it's pretty annoying when someone, that supposedly knows me, starts to assume that I don't even like music just because I don't speak of Mozart or Beethoven... or that I don't really like music 'cause I haven't experienced how it is to play an instrument... or that I'm not a scientist 'cause I never presume my academic achievements.  


Music, literature and science are my interests.

I know that I should be passionate about science in the first place, but sometimes it seems that technology is most important than research questions.  

It is common to read a paper of the top three scientific journals and to forget about the point, due to the exacerbated quantity of control experiments required by these journals and due to the sophisticated explanations that authors have to give on the sophisticated techniques they employ. 

Methodology is pretty important, but it should be a tool to shed some light on physiological phenomena. It shouldn't be the phenomenon.  

Also, it is devastating the way people in general think about science. 

They seem to believe in science exclusively when someone tells them that an apparently serious scientific study showed that laziness, grumpiness and egocentrism are related to intelligent and successful people.  

Or they simply confound science with technology. 

Or they simply employ Albert Einstein's quote ("I believe in God...") to argue that science and religion are not on different paths... even if they haven't read Baruch Spinoza and so they do not know what kind of God was the one Einstein spoke about. 

The worst of everything is that they lie and sin, and that they believe that we all are the same and that we all should be frightened, tempted and punished by the same demons and gods. 

They could quote Charles Bukowski to speak about psychoanalysis or Aristotle to speak about networking coaching. 

They're amazing, in a real bad way.  


In this period of my life I barely have the opportunity to enjoy music (I hope it eventually changes), 'cause I have too many papers to read and to write and too many things to do. 

I always wanted to be in a garage punk band -I suppose I have never tried to do it fiercely- and all the music I listen up its related to this genre.

Currently, I just listen up a few bands like Sonic YouthMudhoneyMelvinsDinosaur Jr.Screaming TreesSoundgarden, Pearl JamButthole SurfersNirvana... 

From a few months until now, I have been listening to some bands I know I will eventually stop listening to.  

The Cure (Pornography and Wish are awesome records)Siouxsie & The Banshees (what kind of dark and beautiful post punk songs they played!)The Doors (despite they were more into the hippie 70's vibe, they have really awesome songs, lyrically and musically), Jimi Hendrix (I'm not sure if he was really the awesome guitarist people talk about, but definitely he was a rock n' roll artist ahead of his time) and The Rolling Stones (they're just as legendary as The Beatles!) 

I'm not gonna lie: I'm not a big fan of The Beatles nor of Bob Dylan; I prefer Neil YoungMark Lanegan and Kurt Cobain.

(Did I mention that I'm left-handed and that I play guitar? 

Heart-shaped box is by far one of the funniest songs to play I have ever learned. She Loves You and I Want To Hold Your Hand are fun to play, too.

Nirvana is the band I hear almost all the time.
Despite he is one of the musicians I feel more attracted to, my goal it's not to play guitar like Kurt Cobain

I think his music was about to turn into blues and folk. He seemed to be bored of the Nirvana formula. I'm pretty sure he would have recorded albums like Mark Lanegan has done since he quit Screaming Trees.) 


I always wanted to have a job in which all I had to do was to read and to write.  
If I found a job like that, I would live in Paradise.

At the time I'm posting this, I'm a meaningless scientist and a meaningless writer. 
I hope it will change in a few years. I'm working on that. 

I would like to have enough guts to make a better life in another country, but I'm afraid I'm scared to make it.

I cannot stop thinking in all the pros and cons, especially in the cons. 

(Is it a disease? Am I too pessimistic?) 

By the way, English is not my native language -you can check it out my EGOTECA-, but I find it pretty fun to write on English... besides, I hate when people lie about their language' skills. 

Thus, METASTASIS OF SOUND is some sort of testimony of my English' language skills.
Maybe someday I will need to test that I'm really able to write on this astonishing rhythmic language.  

I invite you to read my posts while you listen to the song I will write about. 

Dear reader, this is the aim of this blog. 

I'm pretty sure you're gonna read it when I die.