MoL

Writings

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"Deja de destruirte a ti misma, eres la mujer más viva que he conocido"

Charles Bukowski

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#bukowski #charlesbukowski #poetry #nietzsche #filosofia #poesia #quotes #literatura #bukowskiquotes #o #albertcamus #claricelispector #arte #livros #schopenhauer #art #frases #philosophy #pabloneruda #poeta #bukowskibrasil #poema #a #sartre #friedrichnietzsche #poemas #freud #love #bhfyp #amoreterno

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I want you to know it's going to be OK.

You will heal from this.

This won't kill you. You are not buried. You are not ruined.

The relief you're looking for isn't disguised or hiding.

It's only waiting.

Moving on

might begin with the slightest of movements.

Blind faith is sometimes seen through swollen, tired eyes.

It's getting back up from heartache so great that it takes your breath away.

It's one pant leg at a time when the seconds are standing still,

and going to that goddam restaurant by yourself.

It's having to repeat yourself when they ask, "How many?".

It's rebuilding with whatever you still have left within.

An exhausted spirit, but not one emptied.

I want you to know you're not as alone as you believe.

But this, this recovery,

you have to do yourself.

Inch by brutal inch.

One heavy step at a time.

You'll feel as if you're running in place,

but I promise you, eventually, inevitably,

you'll be amazed at how far you've come.

Forgive yourself first. Completely.

Whether or not you're to blame.

In the face of fear and shame.

Even if you'll never be the same.

I want you to know it's going to be OK. That it's going to feel impossible to start over, from somewhere you never imagined you'd be.

That where you're heading next

only requires a willing heart and bravery.

And that this moment, this very season you're in,

is just that.....

a moment. This is not the end.

Begin again.

J. Raymond #jraymond

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I learned that just beneath the surface there's another world, and still different worlds as you dig deeper. I knew it as a kid, but I couldn't find the proof. It was just a kind of feeling. There is goodness in blue skies and flowers, but another force...a wild pain and decay...also accompanies everything.

~David Lynch

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Cuando algo me molestaba, no lo hablaba con nadie. Lo pensaba solo, llegaba a una conclusión y actuaba solo. No es que me sintiera realmente solo. Pensaba que las cosas eran así. El ser humano, a fin de cuentas, tiene que sobrevivir por sí mismo.

Haruki Murakami 🖋️

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"I am a determinist. As such, I do not believe in free will. The Jews believe in free will. They believe that man shapes his own life. I reject that doctrine philosophically. In that respect I am not a Jew… I believe with Schopenhauer: We can do what we wish, but we can only wish what we must. Practically, I am, nevertheless, compelled to act is if freedom of the will existed. If I wish to live in a civilized community, I must act as if man is a responsible being. "I claim credit for nothing. Everything is determined, the beginning as well as the end, by forces over which we have no control. It is determined for the insect as well as for the star. Human being, vegetables or cosmic dust, we all dance to an invisible tune, intoned in the distance by a mysterious player. "I am enough of an artist to draw freely from the imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world."--Albert Einstein, from an interview, in 1929, with George Sylvester Viereck. (Albert Einstein by Lotte Jacobi.) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpdxBeEtIRa/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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“I have a new plan : to go mad”

— Dostoyevsky, letters of Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Artwork: Jason Walker

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«El hombre no puede rehacerse a sí mismo sin sufrir, porque es a la vez el mármol y el escultor».

—Alexis Carrel (Francia,1873-1944).

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Second EDITIOn.. https://www.instagram.com/p/CotOwrvq5Wq/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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My Top 10 ALL-TIME FAVS.. Al tools EDITIOn 1: Enjoy 😎🖋️ #gpt3 #openai #dan #ernesthemingway #copywriting #digitalmarketing #uxdesigner #uidesign #uiuxinspiration https://www.instagram.com/p/CotOPQmqYXv/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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Hommage to void - Fin

... No more than one of NPCs trying to manipulate its way out using mental and knowledge gap and shake in the men's hearts.... "Oh Clara.." he remembered, she was like him, she was the void itself, a nothingness lover, an empty soul. She liked to sleep alone and left always right after the cigarette thing, or after every intercourse sometimes, " Cigarettes where deep with you Clara.." he thought to himself... Oh "Fatma"..it's true that she was Fat and heavy in movement on the bed, but she was calm and of the obedient type..but he managed to wear her down and make her flee, he seems proud of it.. as escaping him made her do some cardio at least hehe..Um "Sawssan" is that dangerous type, who does not like to travel, he still remembers how they met inside this old Strasbourg Tavern, and how they spent an explosive night in his old apartment..and the sight of her the next day as she knocked on his door with her large leather bag in her hand...and how he looked at her through the eye of the door with alarm, and how he held his breath as if he was preparing to dive..the sight of her, despite her exquisite beauty, was terrifying ..he imagined her sleeping besides him..pregnant..preparing food and the smell of onions sprouting from her hair..and screaming at their children..oh..children..that's reason enough for him to shudder..he drank his beer one shot with his trembling hand, got up from his seat..then he looked back at his bed..this time it was empty..he smiled after he took two sips from his joint..and a thought flashed in his mind that made his smile even wider..there are things worse than loneliness..the idea that you can't be Alone one day... it's terrifying... it makes you a lucky person just because you can sit like this... drink when you want and as much as you like and wear those revealing shorts... and scratch your balls without having to hide the matter from someone... to do it more than once..

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Hommage to void - Capitolo 2

I mean void is whatever you want it to be.. back

... They were all amazing in their primal state, everyone looks amazing in their undies, far from the acting and all that approval seeking behavior, that's what he always thought and told himself again as if he was talking to them "Yall look amazing in these undiz guapas"... flew with his eyes up to the cielling and smiled, a beautiful idea came struck him, the idea of how he was choosing to be alone after every sexual or social interaction, he even used to create stories and sci fi scenarios to get rid of the weight, to be back to the void of being alone, every single fucking time.. and here is the laughter of "Charlotte" ringing in his left ear..she was elegant and graceful, and had a slender silhouette.. she liked it when he violently slapped her ass..no protesting at all.. he was doing that deliberately..not because he liked it..but only in order to fulfill his old proletarian dream..being one of the nobles!!... Oh, "Charlotte"... Where are you now... That's how he asked!... He only saw in her a big vulva, and that she used to switch men as if they were shirts.. but she was characterized by good morals, and she confirmed his theory about morals... and she was not all about sex.. so she volunteered more than once for free service in international missions in order to fight famine yada yada yada ...sometimes after making love, she would enter into a hysterical wave of crying..and remember the tragedies of the universe..as if she was responsible for that..but as soon as her desire flared up again, even She turns like a wild mare, then she rides it and covers her face with layers of joy and pleasure.... As for "Sarah", she hated herself, she was escaping something, conversations with her were hard, talking her out and sci fiying with her to leave was even harder, she always tries to make him feel miserable because of his choice of solitude, but he knew deep down that she having it, to him she was one of them....

#reader, #booker, #bibliophile, #relationships, #humanconnection, #humanrights, #humanhair, #freethought, #thoughts, #astorymaybe

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No poem was ever written by a drinker of water

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A hommage to an old me, and all the mes out the there... : The First Chapter From the Unknown: Like every Wednesday night, he put his beer bottle on his wooden table, few choco bons and chips next to it, and as usual turned Youtube videos on, watched half of it then put it on mute, presence of images is enough to him, he opened the window to smoke, to cool off his heart maybe, it was burning, his heart is heavy, knees weak arms are heavy ... nanana hahaha ok going back.. he sat at the end of his bed, fixed his cotton, pocket-less, sleeping pyjama shorts and scratched his balls, he did it more than once as if he fears their disappearance... he lit his splif, and gazed at the other side of the street through that vast window, ideas where crowding in his head, going through all states of matter, solid to liquid to air and even to smoke...yet he was able to catch none. One idea though was scrolling, falling and rolling again like a snowball... hits his skull walls and explodes, in an infinite loop, like a bootstrap. A question that expands as a horny Dindong, grows to become the mountain himself (not the one from game of thrones).... Why Am I.. why Am I lonely? he moved his lips slightly, silently and repeated, why am I alone? Laughed and lowered his voice as if he was ashamed of it and asked again. "Why?..". Spoke distinctive again "Ahh.. loneliness is fucking me, hitting me and splitting me like Moses split the Black Sea.." he moved his eyes, a quick.. yet endless look at his bed, around corners of his room to his bed again.. he thought of all people that sat on it, their faces, dreams, some of their names, their screams and especially their moans.. out of the blue, all smells of their perfume attacked his nose, as if the cosmos wants him to relive these memories with every sens of his being, I mean it was mostly Sephora's trendy shit from Armani and all these empires but whatever.. he saw it, women were crowded on that poor bed, some of them even started falling down, getting hurt.... #shortstory #shortstorywriter #antoinechekhov #antonechekhov #chekov #chekhov #blog #void #voidmemes #7wibachtarta7 https://www.instagram.com/p/CoIzpVVNX8C/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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Cementery - Farewell & Hommage to a Beautifull Soul

Read Farewell & Hommage to a Beautifull Soul from the story Cementery by LaA7ad with 3 reads. sadness, quotes, thankyou...

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Who are you?

How do you know you're real? It's an obvious question until you try to answer it, but let's take it seriously. How do you really know you exist? In his "Meditations on First Philosophy," René Descartes tried to answer that very question, demolishing all his preconceived notions and opinions to begin again from the foundations. All his knowledge had come from his sensory perceptions of the world. Same as you, right? You know you're reading this with your eyes, hearing your voice reading it with your ears in your thoughts. Your senses show you the world as it is. They aren't deceiving you, but sometimes they do. You might mistake a person far away for someone else, or you're sure you're about to catch a flyball, and it hits the ground in front of you. But come on, right here and now, you know what's right in front of you is real. Your eyes, your hands, your body: that's you. Only crazy people would deny that, and you know you're not crazy. Anyone who'd doubt that must be dreaming. Oh no, what if you're dreaming? Dreams feel real. You can believe you're swimming, flying or fighting off monsters with your bare hands, when your real body is lying in bed. No, no, no. When you're awake, you know you're awake. Ah! But when you aren't, you don't know you aren't, so you can't prove you aren't dreaming. Maybe the body you perceive yourself to have isn't really there. Maybe all of reality, even its abstract concepts, like time, shape, color and number are false, all just deceptions concocted by an evil genius! No, seriously. Descartes asks if you can disprove the idea that an evil genius demon has tricked you into believing reality is real. Perhaps this diabolical deceiver has duped you. The world, your perceptions of it, your very body. You can't disprove that they're all just made up, and how could you exist without them? You couldn't! So, you don't. Life is but a dream, and I bet you aren't row, row, rowing the boat merrily at all, are you? No, you're rowing it wearily like the duped, nonexistent doof you are/aren't. Do you find that convincing? Are you persuaded? If you aren't, good; if you are, even better, because by being persuaded, you would prove that you're a persuaded being. You can't be nothing if you think you're something, even if you think that something is nothing because no matter what you think, you're a thinking thing, or as Descartes put it, "I think, therefore I am," and so are you, really.