Archive - Collapse Collide

Too late
They hate
Too late
They hate

You’ve jaded
They’ve faded
From your heart
They’ve ripped
Our worlds collide

Inside our souls collapsing
In their thoughtless ways
Our hearts collide

They’re correcting
They correct my heart
They’re rejecting
They reject our hearts

Now we are all stoned
They’ve ripped it all apart
Collapse
Collide
Our hearts collide

They’re correcting
They correct my heart
They’re rejecting
They reject our hearts

Now we are all stoned
They’ve ripped it all apart
Collapse
Collide
Our hearts collide

*

"Wanderer above the sea of fog" Caspar Friedrich

A wise man said to me
Don’t underrate simplicity
So I strip my life away
And try to live each day by day
And feel
Each moment new

Tho so loud I try
So many failings cloud my eye
And with troubled mind
A sense of peace so hard to find
To feel
Each moment new

But I will be
All I can be
Do everything
Withall I have in me
Life is a blessing
This much I know
And every lesson
Can only help us grow
To feel...
Each moment new

Lou Rhodes - Each Moment New

Experimental dance video

I need the power of controlling time.

Bitter Branches - Pj Harvey at Royal Albert Hall

one of the best songs and lyrics in the world

Swinming the same deep water as you is hard

F. Nietzche

He who cannot give anything away cannot feel anything either.

Lemonade by CocoRosie

The Dream of a Ridiculous Man by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I am a ridiculous person. Now they call me a madman. That would be a promotion if it were not that I remain as ridiculous in their eyes as before. But now I do not resent it, they are all dear to me now, even when they laugh at me — and, indeed, it is just then that they are particularly dear to me. I could join in their laughter — not exactly at myself, but through affection for them, if I did not feel so sad as I look at them. Sad because they do not know the truth and I do know it. Oh, how hard it is to be the only one who knows the truth! But they won’t understand that. No, they won’t understand it.

In old days I used to be miserable at seeming ridiculous. Not seeming, but being. I have always been ridiculous, and I have known it, perhaps, from the hour I was born. Perhaps from the time I was seven years old I knew I was ridiculous. Afterwards I went to school, studied at the university, and, do you know, the more I learned, the more thoroughly I understood that I was ridiculous. So that it seemed in the end as though all the sciences I studied at the university existed only to prove and make evident to me as I went more deeply into them that I was ridiculous. It was the same with life as it was with science. With every year the same consciousness of the ridiculous figure I cut in every relation grew and strengthened. Everyone always laughed at me. But not one of them knew or guessed that if there were one man on earth who knew better than anybody else that I was absurd, it was myself, and what I resented most of all was that they did not know that. But that was my own fault; I was so proud that nothing would have ever induced me to tell it to anyone. This pride grew in me with the years; and if it had happened that I allowed myself to confess to anyone that I was ridiculous, I believe that I should have blown out my brains the same evening. 

Perfection achieved with the dark angel

All those places
Where I recall the memories
That gripped me
And pinned me down

I go to these places
Intending to think
To think of nothing
No anticipate

And somehow expect
You'll find me there
That by some miracle
You'd be aware

I'd risen this morning
Determined to break
The spell of my longing
And not to think

I freed myself from my family
I freed myself from work
I freed myself
I freed myself
And remained alone

And in my thinking
Steal you away
Though you never wanted me
Anyway

Silence
Silence
Silence

i can only say that it achieved perfection. just want to go back and never leave.

after a brazilian afternoon, time to get ready for the land of hope and glory with Pj Harvey at Royal Albert Hall.

Death was everywhere,
in the air
and in the sounds
coming off the mounds
of Bolton's Ridge.
Death's anchorage.
When you rolled a smoke
or told a joke,
it was in the laughter
and drinking water
it approached the beach
as strings of cutters,
dropped into the sea and lay around us.


Death was in the ancient fortress,
shelled by a million bullets
from gunners, waiting in the copses
with hearts that threatened to pop their boxes,
as we advanced into the sun
death was all and everyone.


Death hung in the smoke and clung
to 400 acres of useless beachfront.
A bank of red earth, dripping down death
now, and now, and now
in the air
and in the sounds
coming off the mounds
of Bolton's Ridge.
Death's anchorage.
Death was in the staring sun,
fixing its eyes on everyone.
It rattled the bones of the Light Horsemen
still lying out there in the open


as we, advancing in the sun
sing "Death to all and everyone." 

saudades.

old times

Chove Chuva...

The Tunder, Perfect Mind. Nag Hammadi

For I am the first and the last.

I am the honored one and the scorned one.

I am the whore and the holy one.

I am the wife and the virgin.

I am and the daughter.

I am the members of my mother.

I am the barren one

and many are her sons.

I am she whose wedding is great,

and I have not taken a husband.

I am the midwife and she who does not bear.

I am the solace of my labor pains.

I am the bride and the bridegroom,

and it is my husband who begot me.

I am the mother of my father

and the sister of my husband

and he is my offspring.

I am the slave of him who prepared me.

I am the ruler of my offspring.

But he is the one who begot me before the time on a birthday.

And he is my offspring in (due) time,

and my power is from him.

I am the staff of his power in his youth,

and he is the rod of my old age.

And whatever he wills happens to me.

I am the silence that is incomprehensible

and the idea whose remembrance is frequent.

I am the voice whose sound is manifold

and the word whose appearance is multiple.

I am the utterance of my name.

You use to lift me up. now you drag me down

Day that you go. Colours in view. Colours of you. . Frozen in time. Thinking of you. Wish the pain out of you. . .Day that you go, From me

peacefull...

Hypnotising

home.

BFI is in town

This weekend at Sadler´s Wells

Bon Iver - Calgary

cleaning your house, cleaning your soul...

I believe that is something about cleaning that is very special, acumulating a big pile of dust looks like an award after a day of housewife. Colours... Shit.. I have nothing interesting to say... mouth diarrhea. It is probably because we are watching a bunch of commercial music videos, plus insomnia is hitting again.

Powerfull, incredible...

Chant a Psalm.. Steel Pulse

PJ Harvey - The Last Living Rose

Goddamn Europeans!
Take me back to beautiful England
And the grey damp filthiness of ages
And battered books

And fog rolling down behind the mountains
On the graveyards and dead sea-captains.
Let me walk through the stinking alleys
To the music of drunken beatings

Past the thames river glistening
Like gold hastily sold
For nothing... nothing.

Let me watch night fall on the river
The moon rise up and turn to silver
The sky move
The ocean shimmer
The hedge shake
The last living rose quiver.

go to bed, says the voice behind my head. But why? There is not much excitement on tomorrow´s awake. Why should I go to bed if I have nothing to dream with? What sort of state is this one, of numbness and not knowing, almost like a life´s anestesia. I feel weak and tired, the cold and the wind outside makes me want to cry, my eyes hurt, it has been too many hours in front of a laptop, although I don´t know why I stayed for so long in here, as I feel that nothing came from it.
go to bed, says the voice again. But the fear of penetrating the dreamland is so strong, and I cannot loose the control of my body right now.
I have tooth pain, I feel like I have been smoking too much, maybe there is a connection no? I´ve been having this urge of interpretating my dreams aswell, the other day I dreamed of a pig eating my clothes, It was creepy, I ended up discovering that it has to do with envy and glutony, which kind of made sense in the sort of period that I am living.
my eyes hurt even more... go to bed....

I´ll try.

Im not trying to beat insomnia tonight. Im embracing it with red wine, cigarettes and good music...

by Rui Peixoto

frequence...

Woody Allen, The Genius

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

"You people talk about the living and the dead as if they were two mutually exclusive categories. As if you cannot have a river that is also a road, or a song that is also a color." 

"You can't," said Shadow. "Can you?" The echoes whispered his words back at him from across the pool.

"What you have to remember," said Mr. Ibis, testily, "is that life and death are different sides of the same coin. Like the head and tails of a quarter."

"And if I had a double-headed quarter?"

"You don't. They only belong to fools, and gods." ...

Restless by Gus Van Sant, today at the BFI London Film Festival

There is this bird that thinks he is going to die as the sun goes down.. so in the morning he sings this beautiful song...

what if I take my problems to the United Nations?...

London

Uau... It´s been a long time
Don´t know why I felt the need to start writing again, a friend over a cigarette break said to me "why don´t you start a blog then if you don´t know what to do with all that information in your head?".. I realized that I had one already, but always feels so egocentric to write on it.

So... London. That´s my city at the moment, moving here was easy, living on it not so much. This city is incredibly amazing, it has a power that resonates from it´s floor, so nostalgic, so creepy, so sad and lonely and beautiful. I believe romantic aswell...
Now, being a dancer in this town can be tricky, the opportunities are everywhere but it is not as easy as it looks.
You need money to survive, to be able to have independence you have to work, and dance not always gives you money to live, but then another job apart from dancing steals you so much time.

It´s tyring. I´m tired. Not sleeping, auditions all the time, putting you on check all the time, always getting it until the end, but always missing something, as I never get the job. Of course, I couldn´t help to wonder, should I really be doing this? If every choreographer that sees me, sees something but not enough, when am I gonna be enough? What do I need to change? What do I need to work on?

I feel that I can´t really get involved with other works, at least I need to be surrounded by dance or art in general. This curiosity of mine never stops and it´s part of my life, but how to filter it to my work?

London... expensive city... Sharing a room with one person, a house with seven... again tricky. No space for being depressed or alone, which makes everything even more depressing, it makes you wonder why I´m here? But aswell why should I go anywhere else...

London.