milky space

neither near nor fucking far – I’m here (bla-bla-bla)

blues for a dead detail

sharp the inner line, pump the puffy paint

apocaliptic interval in the main menu of ourselves

beside and about, above and shooting out

to place the nowere somewere

landscaping as a thief

Clarity is just the beginning of some big calimity

top and tap (dancing in the stick)

pathless gap

passing through movies

crossing the fake wall, reaching the other side of the gall

the lies that are lying behind, what you don’t want to see

unlocked gaze

lock the gaze until you free the focus

reply to a gaze, gaze the unansered questions as unansering things

perversion in panavision is pathetic

frightening freedom

the slow show of the pun

travestism, humiliation, grace

quickness, remaking spontaneity

never stop and never begin the unending process

accepting what interfers with not interfering

balance is buging and bombing

using the body inside the mind, using both hands to shake yourself

a colour crawling in the canvas

the same is allways different in itself

flamboyant field, intrincating extensions

the wrongness as a will to be authentic

diverse ways of doing the same

wandering manerisms

combination of trinitys

colouring as an anti-anathema

whispers change the colors

mixtures, accidents

swim like a blind, gazelessly

deceptive absolute brings nirvanas

work against any limit

extreming the mediums

stopping whithout finishing

making is looking anew

the world is a remake of something never done

compassion with champagne

from assembled thougts to stochastic movies

we are ruins of languages visitating ruins of silence

space is an abandoned ship

architecture legitimates oblivion

gestroom for shadows of shadows

space is perfect time

reality is the visible around what you see

space is space alone

I don’t see meaning in the way you mean

what are we doing in the caves of wander?

dripping becomes color fever forever

pictures lick the shadows of the walls

losing formless, lerning mottos

acting like a mambo dancer

sliding paths

crossing crooked impossibilities

overlapping limbos on the paper

separating the togetherness

vanishing points absolves the sinuous lines

I explain myself to get rid of all kinds of limits

painting surfaces increase erotism

stop non-intentions slowly

independence is depending of everibody without care

running after droping the lines

radiant flirts of flowing formless

gathering greatness through laugther

the dirty mixture of Being, modular mixture of non-Being

revolving risks

heteromatism

different income from the unexpected

liberating deception

I changed from one place to another sex

appearance is engaged misinterpretation

landscapes make the medium messageless

kairos is a suitable occasion for a private party

small hell for such a big world

giving fragility through proximity

dirty sacredness

heterodoxy in harmony

with a stressed trajectory I follow the contrary path

teasing pseudo-timeless

discontinuous placements

proximity with irony

lacked unluck

contemplative entangling

changeable mimetism

accessible

simillary different

shy

talking for oneself what I see being made

milky space

theatrically

getting outside for a while

that the same thing never remains and never ceases

a possibilidade da impossibilidade de todas as coisas

Os sensacionistas queriam tudo de todas as maneiras. Cage dizia, se há um problema e 100 soluções, porque não as usar todas? No entanto esta aparente disponibilidade de tantas possibilidades entedia-me. Não que seja liberdade a mais, mas gostaria também de desfrutar, aventurosamente (porque as impossibilidades também são excitantes e só assim as aventuras são garantidas!) da possibilidade de alguma impossibilidade, sem caír no jogo lógico das impossibilidades que faz com que muitos achem os paradoxos kafkeanos excitantes. Nem tudo é possivel, mas há uns quantos e especiosos impossiveis. A possibilidade absoluta anular-se-ia na sua desmesura e no seu pesadelo. Fico-me pelas 100, ou muito mais, soluções de Cage, e outras tantas impossibilidades de algibeira.

unlessness

Cioran preocupou-se e «dificultou-se» com o termo-titulo de Beckett «lessness». Eu dificulto-me e espremo-me (se é que há algo a espremer) num derivado dessa menoridade-despertença: UNLESSNESS, que é como quem diz simultaneamente a qualidade quer do a-não-ser-que e do senão: um pau-de-dois bicos, o mundo bifurcando-se na fuga a qualquer esforço de apropriação. Condição furtiva, mais do que atópico. Ora eu nem sequer estou onde já não me esperam.

dentadas

chamam-me Aldo (alberto dias) mas sinto-me mais al dente