blog will be so obsolete soon

Im going to say that everytime im like HEY READERS why dont you tell me somethin i get 0 comments and I know whose bitch i am.

BUT, lets just chat, favorite memories of me and my life in brazil.

Mine was when i was a baller with money goin to clubs, Mase circa late-90s style (pre-Reverand).

edit: I also wanted to reiterate that blogger sucks and google can choke to death.

An Epic on a Cellular Level

@ptarmiganmusic (Peter Marting) shared this gem with me. And as I will be leaving Brazil soon (word), it's important I start the transition from travel blog to awesome blog. For instance, this video. Skip to 3:13 for the money-est of money...but the first 3 minutes are more educational and equally great.

Favorite way to kill a mosquito

I've killed many mosquitos here in Curitiba. Probably near 100. It's been a slow process, perfecting my craft, but I've found my favorite, both clean and high in satisfaction. Highest in satisfaction was using a coke bottle as a bat. You could hear the pop when they hit, and the best was when you saw them fly across the room.

However, this tended to have them end up on the walls. Which led to the least satisfactory and worst in cleanliness, hitting them against the wall. Blood spots, black goo. I used to leave their decaying bodies on the wall as scarecrows but I stopped.

But for the last month...you grab them with your fist and slam them down onto the bed. They don't explode, they just die.

And you flick them hard to some place you won't see.

The perfect answer

I don't think I've ever enjoyed an answer more, shit's on the real. From dearcoketalk :

I would consider myself an artist; to be specific, a painter, and attend art school, however I feel like I’m not doing enough. I do what I’m assigned, and truly do feel deeply passionate about the work I produce. There is no question in my mind that this is what I want to pursue for the rest of my life. But the problem is, unless I’m specifically what to do, I find myself too lazy to take the initiative to work on my own. Instead I will peruse the Internet for hours, or spend time viewing the work of other artists. I watch TV shows I don’t even like, and I stay up until I’m exhausted; even if I don’t have anything that is assigned for the next day. I’m one of those girls who loooooves to sleep and yet I push myself to stay awake until 1 or 2 in the morning to wake up at 6 the next day for absolutely no reason.

I suppose the real question here is, is there any way to change ones work ethic? I feel like there is so much I could be doing, but I’m too lazy to take the initiative. I feel psychologically compelled to not do work that I’m not assigned, or without a deadline (and even then I will procrastinate).

I’ve discussed this issue with a friend and she says to consider taking anti-depressent / anti-anxiety medication (or something like that at least) to help me concentrate and get me out of this rut, but I’m a little bit wary of those types of drugs and how they might affect the way I paint, write, and think.

Are pills the only sort of “cure” for laziness? Or is there something that I can do to change myself? Or is it something I was born with and is unfixable?

You’re not depressed. You’re just a spoiled brat. That is to say, you don’t need anti-depressant or anti-anxiety medication. Not really. Yeah, there is no pill for what you need.

If you insist on a chemical solution, I suppose you could always start smoking crystal meth. That would definitely get you up and buzzing around, but then again it comes with all those side effects.

The next closest thing would be prescription for Ritalin, but add that to all your apathy and art school, and you’d just turn into one big hipster cliche.

Anyways, if it seems like I’m phoning this answer in, it’s because I really don’t care what you do.

That’s pretty much the lesson you need to learn here. Nobody cares what you do. You’re probably a shitty painter anyways, and there’s a legion of infinitely more talented artists already starving in New York. You should just quit now before you waste any more of your parent’s money.

You can consider yourself an artist all day long, but who are you kidding? You’re not one. You’re just a lazy cunt that goes to art school who wouldn’t know a real problem if it knocked you up after a Bright Eyes concert.

If you want a career in the art world, fine — every gallery needs a receptionist — but don’t pretend to be something that you’re not. Writers write. Sculptors sculpt. Painters paint. Real artists have a burning desire to create.

You either do it or you don’t.

Running out the clock

I hit my last week in Curitiba. I quit my job on Friday. I take a bus this weekend or next monday for Indaiatuba, Ana's mothers.

Many times when I've quit a job, those last days you feel like, "hey this place isn't so bad. I'm gonna miss x and x"

And this is sort of happening. It's also not. I'm really anxious to go home, also really anxious to leave for Indaiatuba. But there is a lot here I'm going to miss. Some alunos and my friends. I will really, really miss Bel, Bela, Mari and Dani.

Last night, I went to a BBQ for Melina's bday. It was great. Per typical, the first hour is me just kind of sitting, looking at the food. But the more alcohol, the more conversations happen. And the food. Vinaigrete stuffed into french bread rolls. So much meat, cooked perfectly, and cut into little strips so you have no idea how much you ate, but really i probably took down like 2 steaks on the realz. And add sausages coated in faraffa. I was really happy to have a churrasco before I left - and it's process is wonderful. Contrary to an american bbq where you will eat 2 burgers and a hot dog all at once, I really enjoy the process of eating a little bit at a time over the process of hours - the food constantly bringing people together.

And sitting around the hookah, as people talk to me about my last week. Almost universally, people were so understanding of my trouble learning the language, and so patient as I try and patch together my words (which looks and sounds painful, they come out in different volumes and tones, and are nearly always mispronounced).

I want to come back, get a proper carnaval, see all that I did not. There's so much more to see than Curitiba, and with the way everyone talks shit on the people of Curitiba I have to imagine it'll be a much different experience.

And finally as a really strange cap to the night, I had the longest conversation with a 7 year old precocious little girl. With her father working in England, she spoke perfect english, like no accent - actually, a British accent. And we talked about disney land, and the funny thing, with the british accent you feel a little bit intellectually inferior until she mentions being "pARtickkkulahhhly scared by big thundah mountin". Then you realize, pssh, that rollercoaster is weak sauce.

Sup dudes.

pinochioooogod

I went to the food court today to get some food.

As I walked through the doors, some loud awful music was playing. I looked towards the huge crowd. The song "Elevation" was playing by U2, and a man was having a puppet dance to the song. Puppet dancin to U2 had like, 80 onlookers.

Today

I got off the bus and was walking off the platform when through one of the open something hit me in the chest. I look down and it's a baby shoe, a bootie. Someone had thrown it at me.

Then someone yelled something I didn't understand.

And I was thinking "I just got George Bush'd?"

Someone then touched my arm and started saying things, so I picked up the shoe and handed it to him.

Pretty analogous to my trip in Brazil.