.

since i didn’t know what to write about, i did what i usually do when i need some enlightenment: i sorted through my notes app, that is basically a collection of disconnected and chaotic thoughts, enigmatic words or sentences, to do lists, email drafts, dreams recollections, etc. i found this thing i wrote about one of my favorite artists of all times, so i decided this piece should be about him.

ode to ney matogrosso

ney matogrosso voice touches my soul

i remember watching him as a kid and feeling a mix of emotions: a kind of fear, spooked by that strange figure squirming on stage with black eye makeup and eccentric costume and at the same time, feeling mesmerized and enchanted.

ney has that undeniable magnetic presence.

i have a personal classification for artists
i separate them in two categories:
artists and alien artists

alien artists are the ones that seem to be from another world, people who carry a such distinguishing identity that they seem to not belong to human species. 
they have transcended the human experience.

ney is an alien artist when he is performing on the stage
it’s magnetic, electric, exhilarating. 

his presence is pure freedom, 
eroticism, 
rebellion, 
resistance, 
revolution and devotion to art.
it makes me feel free and alive.

i feel this generation is witnessing
the end of an era of artists 
the aliens ones
which is sad

that’s why i must to look up to these people
with erratic ways
crooked paths
fighting against systems and themselves to create visceral art
from passion 
from chaos
from despair
and paradoxal hope
with no manuals
no rules
only audacious courage.

latin blood - ney matogrosso (english translation)

i swore some lies and i keep walking alone
i take over all my sins
northern winds cannot move the mills

and all that remains to me is only a moan
my life, my deads, my crooked paths,
my latin blood,
my jailed soul

i broke agreements, i betrayed all the rites
i broke my spear, I threw in the space
a bawl, a thing off my chest

only what matters is not being defeated
my life, my deads, my crooked paths,
my latin blood,
my jailed soul

i often observe other people living their lives in the city and think to myself how some people look like super-humans.
like they know what they are doing.
adulting so effortlessly,
so put together,
so integrated into society systems,
looking so healthy,
holding that almost superior, confident, and mature demeanor.

i wonder if i’ll get to this adulthood enlightenment at some point.
i honestly feel so inadequate and so juvenile most of the time.
it makes me think if i am doing this right.
probably not.

.

i realized images don’t mean anything to me anymore.
i feel bored and mostly annoyed about everything i see,
but i’m a cynical, so who cares

.

times are crazy, and this is the kind of dreams i have:

i dreamed that i was in a house with unknown people, and suddenly a frightening storm started. we thought it was just very heavy rain, but the storm went on for a long time, like extremely intense, hurricane-level rain. we ran to the bathroom.

after that, i don’t remember very well what happened, but we were living in a post-storm moment. it was as if a great disaster had happened and everything was dystopian. i was living in that house with other people.

and there was a woman as the leader of the post-storm “government.” she was giving a speech. i didn’t trust her, and something felt wrong. she acted nicely, but something was off. she said she was part of the people, but i was inquisitive and wanted to understand who she was and whether she was telling the truth. i followed her asking questions. she made an effort to always be gentle and polite, but she was evasive. until we reached a room; she entered that room and disappeared. i opened the door and there was no one there, and i found everything very strange.

then i entered another room, which looked like a large bathroom, and there was a girl on the floor, completely wrapped in paper towels, sleeping, as if she were trying to keep warm from the cold. i was shocked by that scene and felt sorry for her, and i called her to come with me and told her she could sleep where i sleep.

after that, what i remember is being in a room, in a circle of people, and we are talking about the new “leadership,” and someone says, a male voice, something like: “it’s a system (in the bad sense), and without realizing it, we are already inside the system (meaning we are being controlled).”

draw your own conclusions.

1) i’m suffering from a chronic case of unenthusiasm
(triggered by this hectic state we’re currently living in)

i can be a ranting bitch sometimes, and i must say, a little bit flirtatious with cynicism, and i’m not necessarily proud or ashamed of it, to be honest. the fact is there’s been a massive deficit of amusement, excitement, enthusiasm… for a while, and it really sucks. things just feel… meh.

2) i resist exposure at all costs, and it costs a lot sometimes

i’m good at being the “extra” in life. having much to say but keeping it quiet in avoidance of judgment or spotlight. having things to show, but resigning myself to the room’s corner in silence and absence because of “who actually cares.”

i feel a sort of safety in not having to answer questions, be assessed by others, or feel the need to perform or impress; not having people watching me trying, failing, or even winning; not being judged because i’m not being seen. i finally admitted to myself that this is not a comfortable position to be in. it can feel safe, but never comfortable, and it has a high cost.

it costs my expansion and the life i want to create for myself; my need for expression, creativity, desires, and the connections i want to make; that’s a fucking immeasurable loss.

3) i decided to turn both of these (temporary) states of mind into an experiment

i have decided to go through what i will call the necessary discomfort.

the discomfort of change and exposure,
of trying, failing, and winning.

i want to recover the enthusiasm by exploring my identity and expanding who i am as much as i please. i want to be expansive.

.

this space will be my exposure-therapy sort of thing, which right now sounds absolutely ridiculous and makes me cringe at myself, as does the whole thing i wrote above. but if this is about being uncomfortable, i guess i must suffer and cringe.

well, i confess i’m not exactly sure how this experiment is going to work.
i don’t have a structured plan or anything, but i guess i’m going to start before being ready.

and hopefully, eventually, i’ll get there…
who knows where.

so, this is day number one of the experiment.