-10 en

let me change something on my schedule.
i'm writing 1 blog every day of the week. it's Lerrnst.
i'm writing this one and P09T01 every saturday.
not anymore.
let's change it.
i'm going to write 1 blog every day of the week. it's Lerrnst.
i'm going to write P09T01 every saturday.
and this one, i am going to write it every sunday.
ok, it's better that way.
all the other definitions like everything's possible remain.
and as a little non sense story, let me tell you about a friend going to a shop and buying a tv. he told me, it's really difficult. LED or LCD. DTV or ATV. ah! i need HDMI. 3 or 4? contrast. brightness.
after all those steps, the nice guy with a red shirt says to the nice guy with a green shirt*: my advice goes to that one. obviously he was trying to convince the gut with the green shirt to choose. but it's impossible to choose. he must go for the brand sound. ah! advertisement is so important. the design.
he chose the one that has image and sound.
straight corners.
you know, he doesn't see tv. he just needs something to turn the corner of the house darker.
* the nice guy with a green shirt is the one who is my friend**
** maybe the guy with the red shirt is also a friend, at least he was friendly to the guy with the green shirt

-9 en

it's not the first and it's not the last, i should have written it yesterday but i didn't.
sorry.
as you know i write in here every saturdays.
if you don't know, that's because you don't read this blog regularly.
but you know because you usually read it.
so i'm sorry because without explanation i haven't written yesterday.
the good thing is: i haven't died yesterday.
and i am writing here today.
to tell you what a guy told me when i was on the other side of the street.
- hey! you are so green today!
what? he made me cross the street. what kind of story is it?
it's a pointless story.
the one i usually write but i better not continue to do.
what should i write then?
thinking of humanity and environment now:
Madeira was an environment target of the rain. A bad situation, unexpected, noone deserves to live.
but that's life. Haiti happened some days ago.
worst.
we see something has to be done.
Copenhagen is over but everyone is more focused on the planet.
with so many things said about THEN why should i continue to write about it?
so, let's go back to the moment i crossed the street.
i asked: do you know me?
It was an interesting conversation. believe me: i don't know the man from anywhere and the very next day we are friends. right on the middle of the street. we both go to our lives but remains that warm feeling of a talk on the middle of the street.
philosophy.
life.

-8 en

and the days slipped through the entire week until today.
and if i said last week i don't want to write, maybe i want, maybe not, life full of maybes.
who am i?
just someone who thinks to be someone who presses the keyboard.
with what purpose?
no purpose. someone calls it life.
someone.
are you someone or am i?
what classic writer is going to serve as my inspiration to say i am not writing anything, i am just that one who once said that?
and yet: if i say something said before, where is the one who claims that i am saying something already said?
words and words and words and words.
that makes the purpose of coming in with something old, but the old expression on a new mouth becomes new.
and i look at someone who says i am 66.
i look at his eyes.
i look at yours.
i look at my eyes on the mirror.
no eyes and no age.
age: experience.
thoughts may be slowed by age, but must be brighter.
always brighter.
sometimes with words forgotten, but best words always remembered.
i love you world.
where's the story?
ah!
and then he crossed the road. he looked at the desert road again and thought: this is going to be a highway someday.
he looked to a small tree next to the road and said: this tree is more important than a highway.
what am i going to do to protect this tree?
and the tree thought: what can i do to protect this little man, on the middle of a crowded highway?
eerie

-7 en

i looked through the window. i looked or you looked?
and why do you care? And do you, or do i?
why i lose so many dark times in the i and you?
you say: why you lose so many times in the i and you?
you know: the us that forms the you and me.
and i could dwell in the delight of these letters, count the words that multiply on the touch of fingers to keyboard and then you pose that question to me: of what are living poets poets and writers writers? what do they eat? how? to recover the work of the day to the delight of others?
but i don't stop, perhaps because i am a poet poet or a writer writer or nothing.
but today, perhaps because i simply am not in the mood, i let the days slip until next week.