Mensagens

I AM TOO MUCH. 🍒

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I am too loud. I’m too much. There. That was easy. No healing journey. No emotional breakthrough. No inspirational quote against a sunset. I’ve simply had 60 years to get used to myself. And apparently, I like the result. I like beautiful things. I wear Dior. I wear Chanel. I wear Armani. I like vintage. I like retro. I wear enormous rings, clothes that occasionally enter the room before I do, and trainers with absolutely everything. And yes, I own the yellow Onitsuka Tiger Mexico 66. Uma Thurman wore them in Kill Bill . I wear mine to buy coffee. We all have our battles. I like tattoos. I like rebels. I like unusual. Normal has always made me slightly suspicious. But I do have limits. For example, holes in earlobes large enough to qualify for their own postcode. Especially the sort capable of providing affordable housing to several small insects. That’s not edgy. That’s an ecosystem. I like intelligent men. Not men who perform intelligence. There is a difference. Read a book. Rea...

LA GENTE DE MIERDA 🍒

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  LA GENTE DE MIERDA 🍒 Hay una verdad bastante incómoda que tardé demasiado tiempo en entender: La gente sólo puede dar lo que tiene dentro. Y cuando alguien está lleno de mierda, por mucho que tú llegues con cariño, lealtad, paciencia, generosidad o buenas intenciones, no va a sacar flores de donde sólo hay mierda. Parece obvio. No siempre lo es. Porque cuando alguien nos trata mal, tenemos esa absurda costumbre de mirar primero hacia dentro. ¿Qué hice? ¿Qué dije? ¿Qué podría haber hecho diferente? ¿Por qué no fui suficiente? Como si el comportamiento de los demás fuera una especie de evaluación oficial de nuestro valor. No lo es. Hay personas que reciben algo bueno y saben cuidarlo. Otras lo usan. Otras lo destruyen. Y algunas consiguen incluso hacerte sentir culpable por haberles dado algo que nunca supieron merecer. Eso también se aprende. A veces tarde. A veces después de unas cuantas hostias emocionales. Y a veces después de haber gastado demasiada energía intentando en...

A Bitch With Standards 🍒

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  There comes a point in life when arguing with stupid becomes bad time management. Not because you’ve run out of arguments. Not because you couldn’t produce the receipts, the dates, the screenshots and a rather impressive PowerPoint presentation. It’s simply that intelligence and maturity are not automatically included with adulthood. Some people grow older. Some people grow up. And some merely acquire birthdays. They mistake arrogance for confidence, cruelty for strength, silence for victory, and their own version of events for internationally recognised fact. Adorable. There was a time when I explained myself. I answered. I tried to understand. I gave people the benefit of the doubt long after the doubt had packed its bags and left the country. Not anymore. Silence isn’t weakness. It’s editing. You remove the unnecessary characters and the story immediately improves. No final scene, no twenty-page explanation, no desperate need for the last word. Just a very elegant: next. Beca...

FORGIVE AND FORGET? HOW FRIGHTFULLY CONVENIENT. 🍒

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FORGIVE AND FORGET? HOW FRIGHTFULLY CONVENIENT. 🍒 There is a particular sort of person who recommends forgiveness immediately after doing something that would benefit enormously from being forgotten. They say it gently, of course, as though offering you chamomile tea. “You must forgive and forget.” Must I? How fascinating to discover that, after providing the offence, they have also appointed me Head of Disposal. I have considered the position carefully and must decline. Forgiveness may set us free. So does gin, and gin has the decency not to demand moral superiority in return. Forgetting, meanwhile, is not a virtue. It is bad filing. And some documents ought to be kept,  preferably dated, signed and in duplicate. Portuguese justice has taught me that every document requires another document confirming that the first document was, indeed, a document. To the machine itself, with all due respect, which, in British English, means precisely none:  fuck you . I do not believe in r...