Open Letter To A Past Lover

Remember how we used to tell each other how much important we were? And i used and refined all my skills at rewording that same concept a million times. I loved to surprise you with new ways to tell you that i loved you. I loved the expression on your face or the way your voice changed when you heard me say it.

There was always something to your voice that made me feel that things were gonna be alright. Even when it was late at night and the voices in my head were having a party, your voice, whether it was on the phone, on some video i found out or call i saved, was stronger than any picture. You could be saying anything, even talking about the weather and suddenly the voices became quiet, and i felt better. And you, saying you loved me, made me feel like i could survive any sort of pain. I even answered you when you werent there. And kissed the air, cause if i closed my eyes, i could imagine how your lips would feel.

I could spend hours watching one single picture of you, looking at all the shades of warmth and light that your eyes had. It was amazing, for a person like me, who either dies daily for too many emotions or simply doesnt feel anything most of the time, to get my heart filled with so many things i didnt even have the words to explain, just by looking at a picture.

And the daydreams. The sexy ones. If i got something you wore or some room you walked through, i could feel your scent and èprint it in my memory to use it afetrwards for days and sleepless nights. Grinding that scent into a thousand tiny particles that i melted all over my skin, so it was like having the smell of your sweat and breath on it. To make love with the thought of you, drinking every second of that thought like it was a drop of water in a black desert of nothingness. Touching myself and having the thought of you engrained so deeply in me, that everything id touch would feel like your skin, your hair, even the clothes you wore.

Your warmth, everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

But i forget everytime how those things slip away. How i never seem to focus hard enough on the moment, because to live it i cannot burn into it, cause my heart would blow up if i did. And they all go away. And suddenly the fear crawls in my head and i read things in your eyes that werent there before. I hear tones of spite, of tiredness , fo boredom, in your voice. I can see the love dying and i know i aint imagining it, cause ebverytime i feel that, i am always right. And i try to hold on to it. But whatever i do just drives us apart more. And it eats me up again.

I stop eating and i am all fear and unsaid things. We should talk, but talking is impossible sometimes. Dont you think we should've said things to each other? But i was afraid of what you might say, i was in denial. I was scared you'd hurt me and that i nwoyuldnt be able to come back from the pain this time. So i hid away. And you avoided saying things cause you didnt have your mind cleared up about them. You just knew that things werent right. And god, you were almost scared of me. And i didnt get that even if i loved you that hard, i was getting scary. Because i am always a child that is so terrified of being betrayed, and hurt and loose people that i just scare them away first.

And somehow it died off.

And then i had to hate you. And dont be mistaken, i miss you everyday. I miss talking to you, cause, even before we became lovers, we were friends. And you made me laugh and you made me feel good about myself. You gave a meaning to my days.

But i have been there before, and if i dont hate you, i will never be able to survive this. I have to hate you, to erase you, to forget everything good about you, because i have to remember how to live without you. How to be me, without you.

Ive lost myself so hard into other people in the past and it took me centuries to find myself again. I cant do it anymore. So i had to burn every bridge. But i still miss you. I'd love to talk to you again. To be able to get close to you without feeling anger and pain.

But no. I have to move on. I have to remember all we've had as a mistake. I have to think that you were nev er something important, that i just used you to fill a hole. To fuck you. To feel loved. And that you promised me that you wouldnt break my heart but you did. Hard.

And i have to go on that way, until i bareòly remember your name. But you're there. At night, in my dreams. or when the demons eat my head up, you're there. I remember laughing with you. I remember hopes and dreams. I remember everything. You probably have moved on, and im glad you did. I am trying still. I havent really moved on from anything since i was born. But i will.

Forgive me if you can. I need to live.

The Song My Poison Sings

Its inevitable. I go for days and days feeling pretty great or at least feeling able to handle things, even the ordinary ones. Taking small, tiny steps wrapped in that maniacal routine and rules that i built for myself to feel safer. Doing the same things everyday, following a pattern so that this thing i have in my head doesnt start screaming too loud. And it works. It really does. then my beautiful friends show up, with their heart the size of oceans and make me feel loved. That and a couple of pills, that id like so much to live without, but im addicted to. And it happens that maybe, some day i decided to convince myself that i'm normal, cause i want to change things and live like an average person. Without the slavery of meds. So i dont get them.

And it's there waiting for that: I cannot blame the meds, all they do is keep it dormant, so it doesnt take over at the first sign of weakness. But chemistry also has a dark side. When im full of them, i cant have ideas, i cant really feel things or if i do, its out of focus, and out of colours. Then i try to have a break, and it almost seems to work. I have ideas, i feel strongly, i am myself.

But it hits and its like a wave.

It starts poisoning my thoughts as a viscous virus. It starts with trust, takes it away. It says it clearly in my head: "They dont really mean it. they say they care. They say they will be there for you, but thats just what people say to other people to be nice. But when things get really bad, you'll be alone. With me."

And i see it everywhere. The words loose meanings, even the strongest ones. The things loose meaning. Even the memories. I dont beleive in love anymore, cause everything feels like it will go away on a whim, as soon as the others, evertyone, will cease needing m,e. And as soon, as they realize how flaw and weak i really am. I tricked them all into thinking that i'm a good person and that i am strong, smart and big hearted. But they will be disappointed cause i always disappoint everyone. And they will leave. For someone stronger, or better, or just cause they changed their mind. Because in the end no one stays. I might be the one that hurts them, but they will go away. Everyone goes away. Maybe i will.

And i hate myself for needing love from others. Cause at this moment my head sees it as weakness. Loving is admitting you have failed. Failed at surviving on your own. Failed at being numb, which is all you want at the moment.

Cause its nto evenhate that its eating you up. Its something different. You watch what you've done, your accomplishments, your ideas, your passions and all you see is a bunch of senseless scrabbles and noises to move in front of your eyes too quickly.

And its like your stomach, heart and head are full of this constant loud noise and this horrible fear of everything. This panic that makes you unable to focus or to even do anything. So your ush through your day, hoping that soon everything will end. You cant distract, your head screams too loudly. All you want is to fall asleep.

And when you sleep nightmares are there. So all you really want is to die. Seriously. Not dramatically. Not as a scream for help. Just to die, peacefully and quit cause you cannot do this anymore. And you cant fool yoursefl thinking that things will be better cause they wont. And if they do, this will come back. Always.

Sorry. I needed to get it off my chest.

Things You Shall Never Do Unless You Wanna Get Angry And Miserable

Living is war. With occasional breaks for tea and biscuits. But in general, life is aseries of great, amazing times, alternated with soul crushingly boring dirges. And piling moments that make you question why you exist and why you havent given up on the world yet.

I think the wisest choice is to pick battles, or let some things go, while trying to keep your spirit awake for others. Still, when it comes to my own spirit, i always tend to approach situations and people with passion and fire. I think getting pissed is healthy. I dont understand exceissive politeness or excessive restraint. It gives me the creeps. If you dont explode or react passionately at anything, you are a suspicious person to me, i cannot trust you.

But, theres moments, and people, that must be avoided, unless you wanna feel your spirit crushed and annihilated.

- Trying to discuss rationally with a moron

Deep in our heart, us rational and smart people always have this pulsating hope that we are actually able to make the world better. By using our most powerful weapons: our hearts and our heads. But sadly, that aint the case. Ever. Cause, you see, our marching, driven spirits, even when they're still at their peak of strength are destined to meet the toughest wall of the world: morons. You'll see them everywhere: racist assholes, homphobes, religious nuts, rambling hyperconservatives, animal haters, mysoginists, apathetic dumbasses, prejudiced people. I aint using these terms as most liberal thinkers would, to label people who think differently than me. I appreciate people who have opposite ideas, as long as they have intelligent points to back them. But whenever i have to face someone dropping "yeah, i just dont like niggers", "women are all sluts, its how it is" or "homosexuality isnt natural" and try to maintain my poker fa ce, i feel my soul hurt and i stop believing in good things and Santa Claus.

Theres no point in considering such people as humans. Theyu're not. they are leeches put on earth to suck the life out of others. They are here to destroy. And they hide behind their "right" to "have an opinion" and "tell it like it is". Lets be clear here: you have the right to have an opinion but i have the right to destroy you if your opinion is poisoning my life: freedom of speech = freedom of retaliation and consequences.

Civilized reasoning is wasted on them.

- Trying To Understand Love

Yeah, its hard. Emotions arent supposed to always be nice and clear cut. And no, its not necessarily a good thing. Dealing with someone you care for, in the good and the bad times, whether its a lover or a close friend, can be a pretty devastating road. Humans arent supposed to necessarily act rational and always understand each other. Sometimes we're just insane and we hurt the ones around us, especially the one we should take care of the most. Or the ones that really care about us. There's always a time in everyone's life where they get their heart crushed. And yet theres a time when they'll crush someone's heart without realizing. Or realizing and not really caring. Its how it goes. No one is always a victim or a villain. But in the end, wehn this thing is real, it defies any explanation and makes everything worth living and facing. Keep on trucking. Also, sex is worth it!

- You Cant Always Get What You Want

Theres a moment in your life where you have to realize and make peace with the fact that disappointment will always be there. Happiness is a very very thin line and whenever you have it, you have also to deal with its opposition. Things hardly go the way youd want them to. Too many possiblities of fucking up. Ypou hardlòy get your life as you dreamed it and even if you get close, there will always be a million details that fuck it up. Your job isnt what you dreamed. your daily routine isnt what you wanted. You never have enough money and your body is a trap.

But you know what? dont bitch too much. cayuse whenever things are bad, theres the unpredictability factor going on. Something marvelous, someone that makes your life special, or just a beautiful small moment are there and if you are focused on crying, bitching and complaining about menial things, youll miss them. And they wont come back. And your life will be over quicker than you think. So pay attention, emo.

You Have The Right To SHut The Fuck Up.

I am impressed by what i'm witnessing on the web these days. On the web not on the news. I opted out of trusting the news, since there is no way i can get the fact completely purified from opinions or bias, of any kind.

But images are images and there's not many ways to spin those.

I am not necessarily with the "Occupy" movement. On the contrary, i tend to think that most of their spokespeople are rambling idealists that suddenly feel the urge to change things that are rooted way too deeply. Still, i agree with a couple of their points. And i am absolutely and unequivocavbly shocked at how a lot of them are reacting with intelligence and strong, peaceful character to the almost surreally brutal reaction of the police force.

I've been hearing a lot of people that seem to have decided to follow the cause of "no matter what the protest is about, its wrong" and spreading some weird hateful anger all over the web, as a commentary to those images of peaceful people beaten, pepper sprayed, hit, while thy didnt event hint at acting violently. Ive read and keep reading an increasing number of people screaming for "an armed response towards the protesters" and how "they should be all shot".

Usually, those type of statements get dismissed by me and other people as "haters" who are simply expressing anger randomly from the infinitely pointless podium that is internet. Still, i am not sure about that. Actually i do not think that is the case at all.

You probably know people like those, somewhere. They are, with high chance, someone you know and, maybe, trust or like. In these times of crisisis, in front of uprising people a large number will become hateful. The idea of protest, peaceful or not, upsets them. They dont wanna see people prtesting. To them they're "hippies", "scum" or, to quote the always brilliantly retarded hack Frank Miller, "Thieves, Looters and Rapists". And they will justify that hatred with enough manipulated fake information.

"Protest is Useless", they will say. And that point will trickle down to the desire for violence.

A similar situation is omnipresent in Italy. Preotests are always labeled by the politically manipulated media as something dealt by "terrorists", so they can be suppressed with extreme violence. But the real threat will come from people who have no information but are filled with opinions. The herd of snarky, sarcastic, judgemental, ironic sheep who label any from of reaction to injustice as something stupid, cause its somehow more satisfactory for their ego to be on the "other" side, even if said side is populated by thieves and corrupted.

Those people would gladly clap for a dictatorship and for mass executions, as long as they can be against "hippies". And keep their comfy seats in front of a computer screen.

And now that the Berlusconi government has fallen, they are jopining the ranks of the ever lamentin g. Nothing is good, always complaining, never support change. Cause the only chosen condition is a condescending disgust that covers up indifference and uses freedom of speech as a shield for hatred.

Democracy is flawed, when in said democracy we include such people. Only right they have is the right to shut the fuck up.

The New Clichées Of Smut.

If you ever read or watch any sort of satire (with, maybe, the exclusion of the brilliant Parker And Stone movie "Orgazmo", which has enough smartness to be different) about the concept of pornography, it seems that whoever writes jokes likes to lie on stereotypes and clichées that are old and have nothing to do with the modern world of smut.

Some might think that it has to do with the fact that said writers do not watch porn, but i beg to differ. Pretty much everyone encounters porn sometimes. I think the reason for that has to do with the fact that modern porn has no humour. Or at least not the silly, benign type of self aware silliness that old porn had.

Theres no more Pizza Delivery Guys with extra sausage, well natured double entendres, funky music, strange locations. Modern Pornography is way more sterile, less benevolent (i am aware it sounds weird, but if you ever read any history of the golden age of the porn industry, youll get what i mean), done cheaply, quickly and with an audience that has a whole different concept of sexuality in their head...

1) Parodies

They still exist. Actually they always seem to be on the top of the market. But where, once, the parody was limited to a funny title and a couple of winky refrences that didnt get in the way of the action, now things are way, way sicker. You'll meet sit come parodies, where characters that you would have never wanted to see fucking, are doin it. You'll have celebrity parodies, so many of those, with clones of the president doin horribly unfunny jokes. And, the worst, you'll see take on cartoons. People dressed as The Simpsons or The Smurfs.

Where the old school used parody as a funny jab, and an excuse to attract viewers, now it seems to be focused on people who actually get off at the idea of seeing a real life nude Marge Simpson. Like "Barely Legal" porn, masking pedophilia, it's a weird red flag

2)Dirty Talk Is Scary

There was a time where, believe it or not, male teenagers could learn new ideas for sex from watching pornos. Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Tricks. Good stuff. Good pornography showed actual interest from the performers. Some times they were actually into it, the director happened to want good scenes and the reactions were genuine. You heard good Dirty Talk that could work in reality. Now.... Since none of the performers are really into what they do, they're drugged up to their spine and are asked to be weird and over the top, the talk in a prono video is disturbing and wrong. It's either super descriptive (with the ladies reciting ina monotone what its happening onscreen), agrressive in a non hot way (i am pretty sure theres a pretty succesful series out there that is based on brutal verbal humiliation). The orgasms are retarded even if you know they're fake

3)Lesbian Pornography Got Worse

It was already ridiculous back then, with the long fingernails and the silly setups. But now its even worse. Only way to actually see good sex, whether its between women or not, is following authors that focus on an actual lessbian audience or only use lkesbian performers. Like Viv Thomas, for example, or the Crash Pad Series.

4) Actualy Misogyny and Psychosis got in the game

Feminists always said that pornography is misogynist and they were right. Still, classic porn had a light, non violent approach to sexuality. It was about people fucking.

Moder pornography is focused on the represantation of hatred towards women. Fake Rape Scenes, Extreme roughness (always with a violent overtone), humiliation. The women are actual objects, derided, abused and insulted. The average joe to which all this is pretended to be addressed is a closeted monster that sets his abuse free by watching it on a screen.

Fell free to comment. Ot not

The Art Of Gaming: Gazing Into The Land Of Skyrim

How do you define a work of art?

It's a pointless discussion that might not go anywhere. Plus, if you engage in it, and if you're passionate, you have a high chance of getting into a rage. Many people use the word art as a diminishing insult, almost considering it a definition for pretentiousness and intellectualism. Others seem obsessed with the idea that "art" is only some specific forms of art. It will be a form of elitist egomania that you'll find in the desperate beings that roam the corridors of "art schools". Wanna be movie-makers, writers, painters, musicians.....
For all of them, probably because they dont have any sort of real drive towards art, the defnition of it will be horribly academic. Art will be a series of style, measures and numbers. You either do some specific things or you're doing garbage.

To me, art is anything that comes from the soul of people and expresses their emotions and ideas through a creative output. And in doing so allows people to communicate feelings directly, through that art.

Games, or digital entertainment can be art. As ive written here before, a perfect game uses sounds, music, visuals and storytelling in order to engage you and cause an emotional response in your "player"., You can use those tools to obtain experiences similar to movie. But if done correctly, you can take a person and allow them to gaze into a world you created. A world that they can interact with. Change. A world that feels as real as anythign else. Painted and weaved with the tools of your creativity.

The "Elder Scrolls" saga has gained a good reputation in the gaming scene. By creating Role Playing Games that thrive on a completely open woprld that allows you to live in it, they managed to create a loving community of fans.

To be honest, ive never been a fan in the past. I liked them, but i never particularly enjoyed Fantasy. Or the idea of RPG's. Wizards, Spells, ancient ruins.... All felt silly, boring and completely univolving to me.

But the powerful visuals i saw in the trailers for their new game, Skyrim, hit home with me. The look of it, clearly inspired by norse mythology and the visuals tied to it, fascinated me.

So i got it. And i tried it. And i lost myself in it.

It's easy for people who havent experienced what it means to be into Skyrim, to dismiss it as some nerdy silliness that can be lauyghed at. I understand, people tend to dismiss everything, especially when its enytertainment. Belittling things without trying them is the new way.
Still i coulkd bet without any doubt, that almost anyone who tried to be a part of this world would love it.

The story draws you in, yyou create your character, exactly as you wish it to be. And youre free to explore this land. Which is real and alive.

Its a land that seems a crossing between the cold, gorgeous landscapes of the nord, cut through by castles and cities that are filled with dizzying vistas. people with their own lives and personalities. And enough stories, fiction, hiostory and details to fill up a million books.

Every place has a logic. Things evolve and live. Everyone si a part of this world and has something to tell, to ask. Books are full of information. Cities filled to the brim with adventures, emotional moments and quests are everywhere.

And what's incredible is how you could loose hours simply roaming the land and constantly be part of heartcrushingly beautiful moment. From seeing giants herding a flock of mammoths, to witnessing a dragon come to life and fight against other creatures or entering an underground cave filled with a lush forest that lives out of some rays of light and waterfalls. You can walk trhough a dungeon, find the exit and because its the right moment, witness a stunning aurora.

Everything is beautiful. A painting. And it lives and moves and you're in it. If that isnt art at its highest peak, i dont know what is.

Storytelling: Wastelings

Onbce upon a time the earth was filled with some sort of strange parasite called humans. The planet, which was ancient and reslient, had tried to get rid of those curious beings many times, but failed.
Since the first day they showed up on her skiun, the parasites had been breeding and adapting, mutating and destroying everything that could be an obstacle for their growth. They were a smart virus, a series of weak, unarmed beings but gifted witha peculiar instinct for violence treachery and modification of their environment.
When the system attacked them they didnt just cave in. They modified themselves or the system so they could keep infestong and breeding.

After years of reigning and breeding the parasites came to a satlling point. They had built cities, technology, weapons, chemicals and remedies for everything. They colonized and exploited all sorts of land and became the most resilient pestilence that the universe had ever faced.
But now the resources were over. There was no more space for them.
And the only possiblity left for their future was a few years of war, hate, starvation and then, finally, extinction.

But the parasites had a brain, developed in years of evolution towards violence and cruelty. A brain that silently brought towards the idea that they were the final part of the food chain, the deities and the leaders of all that was and will be. They would not accept extinction. they would survive, even if it was for a few more years.

Science found a way, to modify the human genoma. Aging was stopped. Illness was removed. Physical imperfection was cancelled. No more need for nourishment or substainance. Humans were turned into a race of flawless, indestructible beings that didnt get old and did not decompose or get sick.

Still, there were some drawbacks. Cause the law of chaos isnt one to take treachery woithout biting back.

The removal of said physical attributes, also caused the human parasite to become completely sterile. Unable to reproduced and deprtived of a sex drive. They were condemned to be perpetually ageless eunuchs. Unable to create life, unable to feel the drive for it. No lust, no love. No illness. A limbo in which they would stay until the earth would find another way to erase them.

And yet the parasite didnt want to quit fighting. Yes they would not reproduce anymore por have children, like a breed of medicated monks. But there was a way to create more of them. Every human had their Dna taken, and used to harvest clones. Copies of them, with attributes chosen by science and not by chance.

Any of those expressionless, uniformed, emoty eyed ageless creatures could choose what part of them they wanted to harvest and that would be developed in vitro. Other beings, even more refined, airbrushed and perfect, fighting against mortality.

One issue though. Creating beings was prone to mistakes. On ten attempts at making a perfect being, nine were deformed, off track, mutated. They were sick, fleshy, screaming creatures, filled with anger, despair, lust, and some unfocused drive towards something they did not understand.

They were called the Wastelings. The new humans couldnt obviously kill them all, that was forbidden by their own moral and spirtual rules. They were still living things. So they were left to live in the wastelands.

The wastelings increased daily. The humans stopped creating them as soon as they noticed. The creatures were able to reproduce. And they did it a lot, driven by that same angry lust that sparked humanity in the ancient days. They couldnt speak or evolve. Had no clothes or ability rto create thoughts. They were screaming flesh, raging and fucking, bleeding and filled with viruses and corruption and mutations constantly coming up.

The new humans tried to destroy as many as they could, in bursts of angry violence that they thought they had overcome. All the repressed lust and emotion came out in a storm of nrutality when they exterminated the Wastelings. And yet they kept reproducing.

Some New Humans even coupled with the Wastelings, attracted by the morbid charm of that naked deformed flesh pulsating and oozing and screaming. Orifices that they didnt have or use anymore, multiple ones, in constant change and mutations. Some time the sex orifices grew teeth and fed on New Human flesh. Absorbing them into the deformity to create even different Wastelings.

And relentlessly, the Wastelings ate and fucked them into extinction, multiplying and breeding until they were the new parasite on earth. A breed of shapeless, screming animals, geared towards life or oblivion, changing and shifting with anger and hunger.

The new breed.