Purple rain crashing down outside your car while Prince is in charge of keeping us warm on the inside.
Hidden away from the world, two souls whisper lyrics that seem to be carefully crafted for that particular night.
Embraced by darkness of no moon in sight, protected by a sound wall built around you and me.
And I try to imagine what’s on your mind while you’re jamming so quietly but of course that I can’t. All I can think is how rare and marvelous it is to be able to see someone so peacefully enjoying life.
Maybe your oh-so-analytical mind is also thinking about this too. Maybe you’re creating a way to describe this moment, this kind peace. …
Too Much Love Will Kill You
I fucking miss you and it hurts so much. Especially in days like today when I had to play dumb around people so that I could fit into whatever social convention someone once invented.
I miss you. And I know how selfish that is because I miss even more who I was when we were together.
I miss you so much. And I don’t know which is sadder: to realize I’ll never find anyone like you or how everyone I meet will always be immediately compared to you.
I miss you. And I miss even more the best version of me only you knew how to reach. …
Purple rain is crashing down outside his car while Prince is the one in charge of keeping you close on the inside.
Two souls taking turns on murmuring lyrics that seem to be crafted just for this moment, this private performance.
An acoustic version in a venue surrounded by nothing but darkness in a night with no moon.
And you, always so interested in lunar phases and shit, is now fascinated about the way he jams so naturally to the solo guitar.
And you think of how precious and beautiful it is to see someone so interested in enjoying a moment. To really listen to a song with all the praise it deserves, because, of course, this is Prince we’re talking. …
The moon was halft lighten today.
And that felt like an X-ray of my heart.
Gloomy on one side.
Dark on another.
In any other night I could’ve found that pretty.
But now… I’m not myself.
I’m locked in a cage as far away from myself as the moon is from me.
And the walls of my brain have memorized every one of my screams.
I want it all.
And I want it now.
Is that me or just the music I keep playing over and over and over again whenever I’m missing you?
I don’t know anymore. …
My mind is a broken record.
And it plays the greatest hits
of the shittiest things
I’ve done in life
But it’s not just that.
It’s an interactive form of art.
It uses the environment around me
To create melodies
Capable of terrify me.
It knows all my data
My fears and insecurities
The terrors that keeps me awake at night
It’s all fuel
To its creations.
How come something that’s supposed to keep me alive
Be responsible for almost killing me every day?
I don’t have answers.
I don’t have peace.
All I want is for that melody to stop playing. …
And that’s probably my fault.
I shouldn’t have let you talk so much
About your fears and insecurities
Your flaws and your bad behavior.
I should have talked, instead,
About your qualities and all the good things
In your character.
Your passions and your way
of looking at life
All the little things, combined,
that made me fall for you.
I wish I could go back to
When I left, way too soon,
Too many times.
When I could have stayed
just a little bit longer,
To tell you how much I loved you.
Maybe I didn't
Because you taught me that
Words can scare
And words can…
There’s a Brazilian song I like that’s been on repeat for days on my Spotify.
“Permita que eu fale, não as minhas cicatrizes
Achar que essas mazelas me definem, é o pior dos crimes
É dar o troféu pro nosso algoz e fazer nóiz sumir”
“Allow me to speak, not my scars
To think that these bad things define me is the worst of crimes
It’s to give our tormentor the trophy and make us disappear”
I liked the melody, but it was only when confronted by that word during a workshop that it made me think about why that song resonated with me so much. …
And that doesn’t mean shit, I know.
The best thing I’ve learned from reading a book a week for the past two years is: it doesn’t matter how fast you read. The real magic only happens when you read the right book at the right moment. And, to me, that only happened on day 75.
At first, I thought I would never connect with the story. I read half of it in that way when you just go through the words, without really diving into what is happening, until I realized I couldn’t do that to someone else’s work.
So I decided to start again from the beginning. …
First published on @bojackhiddenjokes. All images are courtesy from Netflix.
Ok. It’s time. Let’s talk about that PRINCESS DIANA THEORY everyone's talking about and why, in my opinion, that is NOT a foreshadow, but instead, a recurring joke of the show.
To prove that, we need to go back a bit.
If we analyze in the order of the episodes, the first mention we have about the Princess Diana JOKE (and not foreshadow) happens at #BJs01e05, by one of her brothers:
The second happens during #BJs02e03, by Princess Carolyn.
Ok, it’s about time; so, let’s talk about the balloon, shall we?
First of all, I gotta say something that should be obvious by now but apparently it’s not, so here’s a little disclaimer before we start: there are no right answers to this. I truly believe that the balloon can represent many different things and they all work perfectly fine. My role here is to present one of these representations in the way I see it from what I’ve analysed from the show mixed with my personal experiences, and you are free to agree or disagree with me. Actually, I love when people bring me other perspectives. I’m always up for that. What I’m NEVER up for is disrespect. So, again, I’m not imposing anything here, ok? Ok. …