Gimme Some Pills

Exploding Plastic Inevitable

2005-06-07T00:51:00.000-07:00

Pills. This thing is based on pills, as my life was about a year ago, when this was created. I do not take 'em anymore, because the raw evil truth has come to me, once again unmercyful.

Pills are stupid compact plastic that you swallow and that turns out to cover all that's ugly and wrong inside your brain, making you feel better in a very plastic way. Make up and shopping would do better.

Although it's effects (if taken correctly) I like 'em. Pills are nice when taken over the recomended dose and with some alcohol. I used to do it every fucking weekend last year, but somehow I have changed, and now I don't even have a joint anymore.

Ok, I do. But definently not as foten as I used to, which was every time there was a chance to.

I don't drink as much as I used to, and that is starting to make me feel weird. I mean, why don't I feel drunk? Why am I always surrounded by serious adults when I do? There must me something wrong.

Last time I got really drunk was last weekend, after about 3 months. White Wine, I don't know if that's how it's called. It was a dinner-party at home for my dad's bussiness associated. And I got so drunk I went to sleep right after disseart, didn't even say goodbye. My granpha was there. Haha.

The other episode happened while I was still kind of working on the company and it was a Semestre gathering, a general meeting, followed by a coquetel. Free saque. I took about five douses of it, and got to find out how drunk I was only when I got to my bed. I wander what happened...

I miss my ilicit substances/chemical trips. They were nice, except for when I was too stoned to go home, and for a long, long time. And now I'm here, silly and clean. Who would have thought... And I wander what does it mean. Can anyone tell me?

back from the ashes

2005-06-06T23:31:00.000-07:00

After about a year away from this shit, here am I again. Like a virgin, shiny and new. Of course I have wrote some stuff meanwhile, but it's mostly in portuguese and I am really not in the mood for translation today (like I will ever be). I hope I can get some people to read these things I write, otherwise there is no point in writting right here, I can write on my notebook or any other piece of paper. Fact is I want people to get to know me, and I wanna get to know people. Besides, here I write in english, and that's quite nice because I don't use this language anymore. Ever.

I have discovered today why I like internet so much. I really like writting, and it makes much more sense to communicate by writting here then on real world. besides, I suck at speaking, making speechs and shit like that. Really. It's sad, but true.

Ah, I can't spell, by the way. I really don't know how to write some words, so fuck it. I won't check 'em out on the dictionary every time. Maybe I'll learn someday.

Sex, Drugs and Rock 'n' Roll...

2004-05-25T17:20:00.000-07:00

Ok, maybe it's not all that at all.
But I do smell like sex, that's for shure... I think... Alright.

Placebo rules

2004-05-19T11:51:00.000-07:00

Everything in your world is coming up roses, and
thistles, and man eating rhubarb. It's a heck
of a rainbow you've got going in there...Mixed nuts, we like to call it.
What's going on inside your head?
brought to you by Quizilla

Oh man... I've got a film resume to do, and I really am not in the mood.
The fact is that IM BORED. At home, in the middle of the afternoon, awake, sober, quiet, with my mom, in front of the computer, tired, with a tiny little headache, looking forward to hook up with a guy that doesn't even know my name... I'm bored and I'm feeling patethic now. Damn.

Then lets listen to something sad and cry our hearts out. I hate it, it's so cold right now. (I just LOVE this lyrics!)

Without You I'm Nothing - PLACEBO

strange infatuation seems to grace the evening tide
i'll take it by your side
such imagination seems to help the feeling slide
i'll take it by your side
instant correlation sucks and breeds a pack of lies
i'll take it by your side
oversaturation curls the skin and tans the hide
i'll take it by your side

tick - tock (3x)
tick - tick (2x)
tick - tock

i'm unclean, a libertine
and every time you vent your spleen
i seem to lose the power of speech
your slipping slowly from my reach
you grow me like an evergreen
you never see the lonely me at all

i... take the plan, spin it sideways
i... fall

without you i'm nothing
without you i'm nothing
without you i'm nothing
(take the plan, spin it sideways)
without you i'm nothing at all

A Strange New World

2004-05-18T17:20:00.000-07:00

About five minutes ago I was thinking about this blog. It feels quite weird to write everytime (ok, I know this is only my second post, but anyway) in english. You know (ok, no you don't), my country's main language is not english (but I won't tell you which one is, 'cause I want people to be curious...).
In my other blog, I usually don't write stuff in english, so then I can maybe say this is quite of a strange new world to me. A world where I have to make myself clear in this language.

Another thoughts
I am quite happy right now, and this, my friend, feels quite strange to me. Let me tell you a little bit of my life history then. Last year I discovered I was in serious depression, that had been lasting about two years and a half. So, I started taking some antidepressives and now I am better. I don't really remember how does it feels to be a "normal person", you know, a non-depressive human being. Don't remember how the hell it used to be before I got into this weird disease.
Nowadays, people say I am mad, because I don't really acre about sadness. I am used to tell people I eat melancholy. Seriously, sorrow is so beautiful, reminds me of the times I used to spend on cemeteries... Nowadays I don't really feel desire to go back there again. But still, I think cemeteries are beautiful, amazing.

Well, I'm not in the mood to keep typeing right now, so, please, if you've got this far, leave a comment and make me a little bit happier, alright. I promise I'll check on your website later.
See ya...

This is The Beginning of The End

2004-05-17T15:20:00.000-07:00

See I already have a few internet sites where I write with some regularity, but I really needed some place where I could speak my mind freely. Without friends, without boyfriend, without lovers and ex lovers. Needed to be somehow alone. Let's see if I can do it.

"So here am I in my little bubble"... Why do I always feel like I am trapped in a web, and I stand in the middle. This sucks.

So here am I, Miss Quadrophenic. Miss Zoloft. Miss Breakfast at Tiffany's. Miss Melissa. Mel, for those who like me a lot. Feel free to call me whatever you want (it's not like I really care when people call me a whore anyway).

I like politics (Who would've thought). And coffee. And cigarettes. Vanilla cigarettes. And music and the newspaper. And Anne Rice's vampires. I like Pink Floyd (right now I'm listening to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of The Moon in vinyl, that I bought the day before yesterday).

God, sometimes I do speak a lot, don't I? That's nice. I was never much of a talker, really. Riding up, getting over a more-than-two-years-serious-depression-according-to-my-doctor. Bullshit, that's just how I feel. There's no such thing as a depression. That's just a word that mean a determinate concept. Doesn't mean a lot.

Time - by Pink Floyd

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in and off hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to tell you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No onde told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in the relative way, but you're older
And shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that eighter come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone the song is over, thought I'd something more to say