Ex-Madrastra (from Karuma diaries) – – – What are you talking about man?!!! – – – 490 words, NHIF!


photo by daju Karma


Nina Simone - Wild Is The Wind

Hey out there inside the global virtual net!!!

Finally the doctors found what my “problem” was, it’s called woodlouse syndrome. It is a chronic and degenerative disease that starts with ever so slightly disquiet whenever darkness sets and ends up with me becoming a woodlouse wandering about on the walls with my thousand feet and ultra compulsion to find mystic food. So now that I know, feel much better… :P


click any image 4 bigger size 

Korsori banta TST?
Back in the city with some home made ten took and a better Karma, jiji
Saw a pregnant cat lady with chewed up ear. We pet her for a bit.
Just outside campus getting high on the rush hour’s activity.
In my bag a whale with a round stone, a shell and radioactive-green fishing line in her belly; my gift for Chiara‘s 38th birthday.
We are getting old and wise and no doubt childish at the same time.

It is time that ceases and not the ending of meaning.
J. Krishnamurti

Snorkelling man, goofy but friendly rises his hand yellow =)
The fool moon, glowing between two traffic lights
it’s unavoidably comfortable to watch.

Leaves… dry and wilingly fly around in all directions, what a strange scenario!
Seven two six to Pontinha, a mess of white balance decisions, fearlessly, glitched yet detached, beautifully random plastic bags dancing amongst the cars.
I am no cool, also I’ve stopped worrying ’bout what gets me and strive for its rhythm. Bullshit choreography, darkness postponed one more day… who’s the soundtrack?


composite image made out of 206 single captures (400% increase)

God what a great yesterday flowing get-together of familiar faces. Known friends, new house from before the big earthquake, versed habits, mixed alimony, permeable ideas, heterogenic energies, empathic orchestration on the dream of being alive emancipating itself from any possible programming, ja ja ja come ‘n’ get me, renewed bonds… yes… acceptance, active, tender and sincere, smiles, laughs, loads of laughs, blinking shiny eyes that just for a split second unravel its roots from the soul’s bight. Completely drunk on friendship, on celebration, on the spunk of timely and buoyant conversations…

Beauty, beauty borned on the faces of my good old friends

Dusk is all, and here we are in a packed two zero seven back to somewhere yet to discover… let’s call it Ex-Madrastra


Bon Voyage Lagoa, Stay cooli-iaooli Ki, Piteripoweris quebranozes, Thomas assim, Karma de corazao poço, Javi chulo gachas-migas, Dani fragilizantemente, du Snup pelos telhados, a Joana sem fim e o Maxû e seus poopoozas




And while we wait the release of The Little Prince animated film, Paramount… they just had to cast, mr. Uuuhhh I’m sooo interesting Jaimito Franco and ever dull McAdams barbie, ghrrrr – next year on my birthday – I’d like to invite you to watch and maybe ponder on this (merci a Kurth) and specially on Otis‘ story +)



Did you know that only 3 people in Korea live? – woodlouse Mike

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… of irked shadows




The heart’s pounding like mad
cannot tell the outside from the inside
in its crude and sloppy crib
immured by flesh and bone

I wonder if that’s ‘cause
I’m so high at this depth
of the machine, turn it off, please
turn off the machine of being human,
let the shadows feeding light to the bay
inhale the night
into their cute little dagger-souls
and randomly slight the hollow intent
of bringing life to more words;
let them all naked and free
as just-noises,
as nightmares made out of dead wishes,
covetous gazes and expired memberships;
let them prowl
and find us
let them
gobble up
inside out
through our guts,
from the bone marrow
to the glittering mosts of hair,
it would be neat the extra space
and to lose for good the grip of
this zonked gaussian retina.
~~ Tired of being lonely
but not of loneliness,
sick of the darkness
but ever more of
night dressed.~




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SupeResolution images & Karuma diary (3 days)

Ses faro SR SR
Eyes can be open or closed, but

• camera settings must remain the same across the exposures

• camera must be as still as possible

• burst mode and high shutter speed greatly helps

• each image has to be set as a layer

• image resized to 200% with nearest neighbour algorithm

• layers must be aligned

• layers opacity as follows

                  Layer opacity = 100 x                  1                

                                                   # of layers below +1

• For a given set of 20 layers, opacities from bottom to top are ~ 100%, 50%, 33%, 25%, 20%, 17%, 14%, 12%, 11%, 10%, 9%, 8%, 8%, 7%, 7%, 6%, 6%, 6%, 5%, 5%

• a stack (smart object) can be created instead and a median average applied without the upscale to greatly reduce noise; trading resolution for noise reduction

• for semi-stationary objects and little camera movements, video frames can be also used, example below

Cambridge colour’s Noise Reduction by Image Averaging
Ian Norman for PP – Practical Guide to Superresolution Photos with Photoshop

27 • X • 2015

Biuli and I left the bay very early this morning, rain’d stopped but the night was still entangled will all things. A full-blown moon was our companion, beautiful in its scarlatina slow dance towards the mountains.

Berni’s in Denmark searching for answers, Piteripoweris in Budapest wearing out the soles of his heart’s shoes… we’re gathering first sunshine rays at the airport.

Nuno‘s just arrived

It is now……………………. it’s night now. Behind, (THE) 3 breakfasts, noisy flow, some sun and some rain, hypnotised fellow tourists scratching the surface, 3 black cats crossfading environmentally, a nap with dutch patterns, cuban rice lunch, lots of good dust-talk with my lovely friend and hostess Daniela, Samjana and Nirsara at street level, plenty detached interactions with perfect strangers, incredibly vast and dense free catalog of scents and odours – black Betty Boop coming, the experience of following her trail. Lively streets where arquitecture’s made out of cathedrals gathering a myriad exotic fragrances.

So yes, much flaneuring, documenting everything till soul’s buffer is full. Got a bad teeth removed – – twisting and creaking and cracking; a fascinating sweaty irreversible nightmare this one time show, this “healthy” breaking of a bone – – the girl-doctor was stronger than I thought, should I say “good technique” (?), she was also fatter than last time, maybe two years gone. Despite the finger-mouth I asked her if she knew anyone who liked dentists.

Quick stop at Soonam‘s

Chiarita joins us for dinner – “only” ice cream and beer for me =) –  she sports a great sense of humour. These are beautiful ladies I’ve been gifted for company.

Boia serra SR

28 • X • 2015

A new day, a new body each day, a new body inside the same rotting carcass, all good. Daniela and I grow old talking about lots of thing, na na na, na nana na naaaa

Where can the dust settle?

48 hours have gone by and I hadn’t had the slightest mindspace to write anything whatsoever.

Got to meet my Karma though and we got to get drunk yo – yeahhhh!!

Life first
Life’s first
Refilled the buffer, soul’s buffer with life so many time these last 48 hours.

Estandarte SR

Right now there’s a mosquito – and we’re ending October – making tactic round flights overhead… Akira entertains herself smelling the stories impregnated on my clothes, she likes the sound the pen does when I write, she’s young and curious, we play hide and seek, my hand and her claws.

I’m sheltered at Pedrito‘s… who’s stressed out and very tired of dealing with the absurd of Culturgest’s systematically inept bureaucrats… ahhhgggh the people who’ve sold their dreams and hopes and try desperately to suck everybody else into the putrid swamp that their hearts have become … tough business. Nevertheless he’s going to Korea in December +)

Before we, Ribas and I, had tickling epithelial arousing non-stop eating momus and dido at Soonam’s. Rose was there, luminous as always and as I was crying (literally) ’cause of the chilli’s boost, I joked with her “I’m so happy” to which she very calmly replied “your happiness it’s my happiness”.

Mervyn O'Gorman's more than 100 years old photo, my tweak 


We had a super-chachi-piruli-juan-pelotillas geeky talk. Ribas’ the utter most geek being I know and he’s able to go thousands of layers deep… we try to practice the healthy and pro-active kind of geeking out.

Before that I went to the usual afternoon master-class with the hood’s gurus: twisted bad-ass Luigi d’Angola, who’d got removed 8 teeth in 1 day, one of which infected, “I’ll never again go to the dentist”; The Wet Engineer, a sweet 50 something child with a snow beard, a big belly and an inextinguishable desire of seeing women without clothes; Zé Dubar and a very weird tall, long haired, black dressed chinese dude that popped up like a mushroom and just sat there drinking with us… So much bullshit!!!

Before that breakfast at Dani‘s with Diana and Ribas. Then met a very cool mozambican old lady at the bus stop…. it’s empowering to cross with old people fully engaging and openly curious about life. She farewelled me with a “good luck” within a sparkly eye in eye’s good look.


Somewhere in-between the befores, maybe merged, maybe lost but happy camping, got to the edge of moço Edgar‘s 42, delivered the handtage, went chinatown for material hunting with Paulinho and very attentively heard and memorised all about his brazilian girlfriend’s orgasms and other boyfriend.

Akira purrs and I really need to sleep some.

30 • X • 2015

Despite I spent a good piece of the last 48 hours listening to sad complains and futile little disputes comin’ out cauterised brain-clogs, despite assisting in ego-decadence, despite all the BS, me own included, despite the pain, despite capitalism, its noiz, despite the sea of loneliness… life’s surely beautiful.

Libel casca SR

Back at the bay, morning steel guitar, festool talk and delicious grilled fish lunch with Ribas. Truly feel lucky and grateful
I also made this “thing” for storage out of the leftovers of bunks bed, a pick’s handle and a door found in trash… not perfect but bearing in mind the trapezoidal irregular shape of the room and the tools I did work with, it’s alright… at least more stable than the brick-shelfs above, ja ja ja :D


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Por el suelo – a rayas – una culebra lleva un bicho, pero no un bicho cualquiera, un turbillón de Antequera, reluciente, despanpanante, como si fuera nuevo y se estrenara majestuoso en sus ojeras.

Ay! no se puede, en la noche dormir con prisa y malas maneras, no se puede porque la almohada se acementa mientras que el lecho voltea chicle y uno mismo sinónimo en desusanza… y aunque poco quede para que todo lo achique la pereza…

La pecera de la muerte, mientras tantito de lo dicho antes, la van llenando fantasmas del pasado caducos y en el futuro-tanqués.

Qué bién se teclea con la estilográfica, obcecadamente de bién, onomatopeyicamente fluído… un dia, porque siempre llega el dia tras la insomnia, el sonido del própio escribir será un cliché usado para referir fulminante antigüedad… como el mini-traqueteo acelerado de un proyector de 8 milímetros, más o menos, más o menos.

Soy un fracaso… pero no miento si digo que el admitir del própio hecho me colma de paz. Ahora ( con tremendos aspavientos… del género que sólo ocurren dentro de nosotros, como y para siempre grupo anónimo), ahora cuánto va del conformismo y de la innanición del espíritu al aceptar qué es uno, a sincronizarnos con este ahora tragaperras? Yo personalmente no poseo respuesta alguna, en vez, me divierto sobremanera viendo al mosquito intentando desesperadamente – y si tenemos en cuenta lo poquito que viven los mosquitos pues aún más desesperante se vuelve la cosa – intentando, decía, aunque ahora que la veo ahí, tan concienzuda en su escrutinio ( qué poco sabemos de la vida emocional de estas lumpen) , más parece que prepare una emboscada mortífera, musquitum pterodactilis … en fin yo quería rimar con la palabra “mosquitera” pero ni modo oye, no hay manera.

Aparte del incordio de estas pequeñas vampiras-F16, sólo quien haya visitado una zona tropical plagada de malaría otorga a esta sábana hecha de agujeritos poderes mágicos y reboza cariño con sólo contemplar su puesta en escena. He dicho.

Voy a subir a la nevera y comer unas galletitas con un vasito de leche tépida, ja ja ja, que no, que no, que a mi me gusta fría… igual y si sobrevivo a la emboscada, al ratito nos vemos… O será mejor si la mato, espachurrándola entre los dedos…?
Ahí está la respuesta, ya viste?! NoJotros podemos cuestionarnos, las mosquitas no. Poder elegir es una mierda, ja ja ja

Bueno; pues ya así de puestos y no más que aunque ahoritita mismo ya me vea yo como que en la obligación de intentar de algún modo continuar entreniéndole -pues que leer trae solera como actividad individualizante – ya me comí las galletas, no sé cuántas porque no las cuento, pares, de las pocas pares en mi pertenencia, porque me las como de dos en dos, bueno y los calcetines, pero esos no me los como, los agujereteo.

Mientras que del desayuno madrugador, he pensado ( actividad de riesgo por lo infructuosa, falaz y adictiva) en las hormigas. A mi las hormigas y las abejas me caen bién; son trabajadoras y socialistas. Los mosquitos son medio facistoides, que no?! Los grillos son temporeros, anarquistas y fumetas… por cierto, increíble lo definido en la banda sonora que trae la noche: el chirpi chirpi hiper-agudo de los grillos y mira (míralo bién) que estamos a medio-octubre, pero la verdad hace de manga corta y los grillos lo saben; el ronroneo oxidante, omnipresente y no-sé-que-que-que de una fragata-draga anclada en la bahía y, claro, las olas de la mar, ésas 24/7/365. Las olas, saladas, también me simpatizan.

Pues antes que ocurra algo más ( para contar) voy a ver si viene Oreo, digo Orfeo ( oro y feo, qué mezcla?!)… Mañana ( bueno de aquí a poco) va a ser bonito.

Soy brutote pero muy agradecido, así que gracias por leer y que te vaya lindo



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BISE&ZIGMY  ➊➐  if it’s a portrait, is mine



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Merci a Tylenight, Shian and PM Sabrosura


• Los Guajes – Cazasuecas
• Shlomo and the Vocal Orchestra – Teardrop cover by Mohogany Sessions
• Tweaked Tina S Cover of Jason Becker – Altitude


Throw myself into the streets as a normal thing to do on a normal day… but something’s strange; off. Where am I, what is this? Am I going crazy? Oh my god (read accentuating the pauses between words as if a teenage girl in Minnesota) I am tripping, I’m squinchtilating, zeddubing, flipgortitating, rotoblasting big time… uuuuu, uuuhhhuu uuh uu uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh aaahhhha aaahhh!!!!

My bedroom’s window has been uninterruptedly wide open for the last 5 months, that must be it, the city’s fumes finally kicking in. And so this disproportion of scents, the splotch of colours hurting me eye, the weird twixtor in movements and semi fluid state of earth’s spine… uhuuuuu, now all these people make sense, it makes sense they’re in ma head. Nhgek! wish I’d been issued some kind of warning, some clear, unavoidably giant luminous sign… but on the other hand, what a nice surprise YO T!!

So… relax Max, fasten the seat belt and enjoy the trip, ride along IF-brother!!


……….. some indescribable and defying any notion or concept of a possible beyond “this” {time} after //// meanwhile you can stop, look and go watch this =) ////


 super-resolution 32bit image (from stack) / gamut / 1:1 crop artifacts

At my street’s soul-sourcing, ritualistic mumblings, publicly accepted addiction’s get-together, simplistic abridged to café – but nobody drinks coffee after 5 o’clock {face off} – this is a fucking theatre, the theatre of life and it’s a blast of fun and I can participate and all, in all and with all of my own bullshit; can you believe it? For free!!

Let me see what’s on the program, between the mistreated woman and the bureaucracy needed just not to be mistreated, the football, the soft political satire and tax cursing, the burnt raisins going on detail about the good old times, their lovers, the one whisky bottle a night, the whores, the booz feed, the recipes for great sexual life… alone, the six o’clock soup, the ´whose paying this round?´ echo, the football, the undercover cop that looks like a crossbreed of lonely pimp and travesty, feeding the dog without elbows, feeding the wax lady, feeding all preconceptions about myself, the voluminously tight butt fighting to break free from within a two sizes below white pants’ nurse from the dental clinic, the football, lawyers carefully analysing the odds to squeeze a bit more, a lot more out of anyone, everyone, the wifi controlled children, the smoke made out of time, the time made out of sticky sexist jokes, the old unflagging lady always bringing strangely sweet plasters – wait we have 2 black widows (yes I repeat two widows in black) from a man, a neighbour who recently died, sorry passed away, now into the rot, he went to get his toe nail cut lalalá and something went terribly terribly wrong, so we, somehow, quickly have to stop drinking, stand up, put sad dog face and say maximum 10 words that make sense, you know what? I’m not  getting up – … Gee there’s a lot to engage with and get even higher

Tried to go shopping but the lack of inspiration and the “products”… How am I supposed to eat this veggies? They look like a deformed cute little familly!!!
Bring it on, lets dance!!






 PoistScriptiumumum – Quanto mais olhas menos vês {Zé do café}


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( . . . )  in – out


Woke up with a hard-on, what a waste!
Woke up to the dead of night… so hungry…

I light up a candle, dress stealth under the moustache and embark on a quick trip to raid the kitchen, trying not to disturb VP. Managed:
A cluster of round, dark and sweet grapes, a black beer, organic corn cakes ( 5 and 1/2 by my count), fresh and middle-matured goat cheese, some french butter and dijon mustard and a handful of pink radish sprouts.

Ate and drank it all, still hungry but realising food it’s not gonna put down the bug’s inextinguishable fire. Bill Viola anyone?

The tiny rodent making late anthropological work in my room doesn’t care… Just don’t wake me up oh little you!!
Roll a cigarette, open the window, jump outside. It’s dark still, it’s hot still; the cicadas seem to be getting out of batteries. Some faraway lights, some clouds, a couple anxious roosters and plenty stars.

Glad I called my friend Arne. I’m a reckless lonely wolf, a lonely wolf with a mobile phone… of which I barely make use. But somehow, when I’m about to start travelling I like to call someone, by now has become a kind of personal silly tradition.

This song’s cover on ma head playing looped since I woke up; South Salito

Writing has a lot to do with filming at least to me it does.


A cloud comes to mind; Madrid, that fiery summer’s night I crossed the whole city ridding a magic owl to meet… to be with Ana. What a beautiful night it was, how hungry we were, how unaware of anything beyond the reach of our hands. Love devouring from inside…

Breath… a deep in – out movement, in – – out, feel much better now.

Come back inside, close the window, hear the mosquito’s rave that got started, blow out the candle, lay in bed, in – out, in – – out, in – – – out, happy I’m here,
in – – out, in – – – out, now, in – – out, this sense of gratefulness almost makes me wanna thank aloud, in – out, in – – – – out, thank you in – – – out, in – – out, little careless mouse goes on with night excavations, in – – out, thank you for waking me up buddy =)



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