Breathe Weezy

New party, new artwork.
this one was far easier than the spring fling.
not too much work on this one though.
a lot was taken from the previous one.

BREATHE WEEZY comin ur way on the last day of school. more details: mozsoc.blogspot.com - for presolds: "call me, so i can make it juicy 4 ya"

0825855885 (jay)

Meu Maior Amor

Sem compasso no meu passo

eu digo-te: eu amo-te.

Ninguem te tira de mim.

Eu sou teu e tu és minha, mas nao totalmente

nao exclusivamente.

Eu carrego-te pra onde vou.

És o ritmo nos meus passos

quando eu ando a pensar em ti.

és a melodia da minha batida cardiaca

andas dentro de mim e eu

dentro de ti como se fosse

feito de ti e tu pra mim.

Estás comigo no meu quarto, na cama,

no chuveiro, num passei a pé,

sentado no carro, no ritmo do transito

EU PRECISO DE TI.

Tu és tudo pra mim.

Perfeito Par feito no céu,

amor arranjado,

casamento sem véu

Eu preciso de ti...

Eu amo-te.

EU AMO-TE... musica

Work

some work i've been up to...
pro bono, just like the dj work at this same party.
all for a good cause.
opinions anyone?

The Quarter - Chapter Four

Chapter IV: The Other Side (Syriah’s perspective)


Twin tears drop down to the tile floor beneath Pedro’s face. Across town, a desperate and angry scream is heard inside a room. It’s Syriah realizing that she had just engaged in the road of no return she had been down so many times before. She had just lost Pedro. But for the first time she feels that there is something different about this relationship, and she is not willing to just let go.

[3 weeks ago]

Syriah sits in the car with Imraan, and they fight heavily as he weaves through traffic. Imraan is one of the wrong types that views women as an object and believes that life is to be lived on the “very fast” lane. He does not care for what Syriah thinks and needs. He believes only his needs exist.

- You are the worst kind of punk there is Imraan, good at talking, but you never put on the shoes and walk in them.

- Whatever bitch… I can’t wait to just drop you off and “drop you off” for good.

- (…) – She looks at him, surprise in her face, soul broken.

Syriah turns back to her original seated position, keeping her eyes on the road ahead and avoiding eye contact with Imraan and remains silent for the duration of the car trip. Imraan stops at a gas pump a few blocks from Syriah’s house. He exits the car, walks around it very fast, opens the door to her and aggressively says:

- Since you like to talk so much about how I walk, - he gestures with his arm pointing in the direction of her house – YOU do some of that walkin! See ya. It was good, until you decided to open your mouth for something different than moaning when I took you from the back.

He pauses his talk for a split second, as he pays for the gas he put into the car and turns to face her again. Now looking completely arrogant he screams at her.

- Still here? Get the hell up off my leather seats and GET TO WALKING!

Syriah stands up, collects her belongings and starts walking home. She begins to hate the idea of respecting any man.

[2 weeks ago]

Syriah sits in her room, it’s already late Thursday night and she is getting ready to go out with her friends to have a girls night out, although she is the only single girl in the group. She knows that her friends will eventually move along and be with their better halves. This vexes her, but it also gives her a new hope. Things are waiting to happen, and she feels positive, although she doesn’t know why. After driving to the Aqua Room, they are immediately invited in, because they are regulars, and club owners enjoy having beautiful women inside. Once inside, they sit at the lounge area and order some cocktails, margheritas being the choice for this night. They drink them and decide to do some hip moving on the dance floor. Ashley, Syriahs friend, thinks differently and heads to the bar and proceeds to down shot glass after shot glass of straight tequilas. The result is obvious: after five minutes of intense alcohol consumption, her liver gives up on her and she becomes to drunk to stand straight.

Syriah and the rest of the group realize this and head to the bar to stand by her and keep her from ridiculing herself. That’s when she is approached by a completely “new face”. He is slick with his words as many before him have been, although he gives off such a confidence in his actions that she can’t help but be dazzled.

That night they share a connection. They end up kissing in the club and Syriah sleeps at his house. Of all the men she has had sex with, no one took more care at the craft of pleasuring her and making her feel special than this “new face”. She falls asleep with her head in his chest, listening to his heartbeat, arms around his torso. She grips him tight; she does not want this moment to end. She does not want to lose him.

Syriah wakes up to a doorbell ringing. She looks around, seeing a new place. It is not her room. And then it hits her. She’s in his room. She approaches the cupboard and reaches in to get a t-shirt. She puts it on and walks out the door. Before her eyes it’s him and a girl that she has never seen before. They seem to have a lot of tension between them. After a few harsh words, this girl notices that Syriah stands at the end of the hallway, only wearing a shirt that she once put on herself. That’s when she decides to back off. She hugs him and leaves.

Syriah could not be any more puzzled. Who is she? Why such tension? Why the hug? Was she trying to show to Syriah that she still has some power over this man? She couldn’t care less, because at this moment this girl was the one leaving and not Syriah. She felt weak at the sight of this man. He embodied her dreams. And she was now daydreaming.

[1 week ago]

All began to go wrong when he realized certain aspects of her lifestyle. The respect that Syriah vowed not to have for men was stronger than the feelings she had for him at that stage, although it was hurting her more to lose him than it ever felt to lose a man before. The have fight after fight. And the affection that had been built over the last week was now virtually depleted. It was now a latent form of aggression from her side and pain on his side.

[Present]

After sitting at home for a few hours contemplating her previous actions in life and with this specific man, she picks her phone up and decides to call him. They fight once again and this time Syriah cannot handle her anger and hangs up on his face. She can’t cry any tear because her anger supersedes her sadness. In an explosion she screams from the top of her lungs.

[End of chapter four]

The Quarter - Chapter Three

Chapter III: Squares and Circles

They say ignorance is bliss. At this point Pedro was blissful because he was fully ignorant of the trials, tribulations and torments that he was to face for his choices and actions.

His determination to get with Syriah impaired his better judgment. One is never to find a love in the stark darkness of a nightclub where the lights, music and alcohol kill any possibility for proper reason to take place.

Pedro and Syriah enjoyed the presence of each other for as long as the sun was absent. Nicol drove them all home, and on the long drive home Pedro got his first listen of “Fallen Angel” by Chris Brown and immediately fell in love with it because he related to it – he has always had an instinct to help people, especially the people that he cared for more than himself.

Syriah appeared restless and hyperactive and she decided to sleep at Pedro’s house, and that night they made love. Perfection seemed an arms length away, and the connection between them was more than tangible. These were only the first hours they had spent together and Pedro could already feel a need to be beside this girl. He was, however, unsure about her intentions and the direction in which she was willing to go with this, but at that moment, all he wanted was to be able to smile and enjoy the blessing of her existence in his troubled life. She made him smile, and he needed that.

The next morning, he woke up and silently crept out of his bed, trying hard not to wake her up. He headed to the kitchen, boxer-clad and money wallet in hand. He asked his maid to go out to buy some fresh fruit in order to fashion a unique breakfast. He wanted to treat her like he believed she needed to be treated.
The maid left and he gets to work in the kitchen, heating up water and getting all the utensils together. He looked at the digital clock on the kitchen wall and its now 13:26. A chill ran down his spine because those are the numbers Pedro will never forget for as long as he is alive. One of his brothers died on the 13th day of October and his mother died two years later on the 26th day of the same month. The doorbell rang and he walked to the door.

He hid his bare frame behind the wooden door, leaving only his face visible to the visitor. As he opened the door, Pedro began to feel the strength leave his body as he saw the face of the visitor, and heard the voice coming from her mouth.

- Hello. Did you miss me?

It was Nydia standing there, with a smile that encompasseed love, tyranny and pure conniving evil all wrapped up and with a ribbon on it and packaged in the fittest and most tempting female body. She was the female depiction of Lucifer that morning. Pedro and Nydia had a relationship that ended sour, notwithstanding the feelings that they had for each other. Nydia had lured him into a relationship that he wanted, although she had a boyfriend of her own, leaving Pedro in a precarious position in that whole love triangle. Pedro had now lost all respect for her.

- Well, won’t you invite me in?

- Not if I have a choice, no! – He answered with disdain obvious in his vocal tone.

- I came here to see you…

- Well, I guess you’ve done your part then. – He said, interrupting her and starting to shut the door – and I’m not glad to have helped.

He shut the door and she rang the bell once again. Afraid that this might wake Syriah up, and now extremely angry, he opened the door, disregarding the fact that he was still only in his boxers and starts arguing with Nydia at the door.

- Could you please just leave me alone right now?

- No… I miss you and I came to see you.

- Well I don’t want to be in your presence and I have someone over already and I don’t want her to come across you.

Nydia stopped at that point and realized that this was not the moment to do this. It would just further impair her chances of reconciliation with him. In the corner of her eye, she could see the girl, so she approached him and hugged him for a bit, intentionally turning her face towards Syriah, to let her know that she saw her. It seemed as if she was sorry for her choices in the past, but Pedro did not care for it. She was trouble and he was trying to steer clear of it.

Pedro closed the door and turned to go back to the kitchen only to find Syriah standing at the end of the hallway wearing his shirt and leaning against the door frame to his room.

- Hey bebé. – He called her a pet name in Portuguese (his first language), because the sight of her body in his shirt took him a few years into the future. He could see himself with her, living together.

- Who was that? – She asked – why did she hug you like that?

- That was Nydia… my ex… I don’t even know how to classify her. She’s my “ex-something”. I don’t even know why she came. We didn’t talk to each other.

- She came because she wants you, P – she said with an angelic smile on her face – she wants you, and I want to know why.

- I don’t know (…)

- I’m not asking you why… - she interrupted him – I’ll find out myself. I want to. After the maid returned, he finished the preparation, and took it into the room. Syriah began to understand what Pedro meant when he said “queen”.

The days passed, and they grew closer together, and as this happened Pedro started to find all the little problems that he would have to face in his relationship with Syriah. She thrived on nightlife, and all the vices that it entails: excessive drinking, tobacco, and the recreational usage of drugs. But he had invested so much that going back now would be an arduous process and he was also determined to show her a different side of life.

The second weekend came around in the calendar since he was in Maputo. It was a Saturday and in agreement with their rituals, Pedro and Nicol headed to the night together. This time around Nicol had come prepared: he had now found himself some female company. They head to “The Palmetto”, the largest club in the night scene in Maputo. As they arrived, Pedro found Syriah and her group of friends all drunk well ahead of schedule. This broke his heart, but he still stood by his decision – he would not quit on his queen, even if she wanted to behave like a peasant.

Along the night, Syriah acted out of control and randomly. She pulled Pedro to a corner, where they spent the rest of the night. The damage that her drunken state had done inside him was to be increased when Syriah told him that she had taken ecstasy that night. Pedro stood by her, in fear that this might have consequences that are way beyond her control. Pedro had no fun that night. He took care of her like no one else would have. Well after the sun began to shine they left the club. This time though, Pedro insisted she went home. He needed some space to clear his mind from what had just happened.

The next morning Pedro began to realize that he had chosen to dedicate his attention to a girl that was severely misguided. Granted she had good intentions, all she needed was a direction to follow, and so far she had been led by all the wrong types into a place where return seems like a dumb option. Life is easier on the fun side.

Pedro was determined to show Syriah that there are different options. What he didn’t count on was the fact that Syriah did not care about the other options. He got increasingly attached to her and he could not stand the fact that their differences were keeping him from making a difference in her life.

He got frustrated at the fact that his love and determination only took him as far as the next fight they were to have. The kisses got replaced by harsh words; the affection got replaced by a bitter and unwanted indifference and the love slowly began to seem senseless.

His cell phone rand and it was Syriah. He picked up, although he feared that this conversation would push the spear further into his heart. He loved her and all he wanted was for this relationship to head to new heights, but it takes two hands to clap and there was no clapping happening between them.

- Hey P, how are you?

- I’m ok, could be better… but hey… what am I to do? – He answered with sadness.

- You’ve been so distant. Is there a problem?

- Can’t you see Syriah? I can’t handle your lifestyle. To be honest – he added – I don’t think you need to live like that.

- Yes, I don’t. But I want to. – She answered, audibly aggressive and defensive – why do we keep going in circles about this P?

- Because I’m not compatible with this lifestyle of yours, ‘Rya. I’d like to be able to tolerate all that you do, but it’s just too much for me. I care for you, but I don’t want to be associated to this life of yours that so closely resembles the one of a raging alcoholic and drug junkie. – Pedro said this as a single tear rolled down his face, and although she couldn’t see it, she could hear his trembling voice.

- Are you calling me a junkie and an alcoholic? – She screamed on the other side of the phone in anger.

- Listen ‘Rya, I call a square a square and I call a circle a circle. If you act like a junkie, then I’m going have to call you a junkie.

Syriah hung up the phone in his face. Pedro is extremely hurt, and a second tear rolls down his face.

[End of chapter three]

The Quarter - Chapter Two

Chapter II: The Queen Of Hearts

In his deepest thoughts, all he could imagine was how he is going to approach her. At this point he was still ignorant to all aspects pertinent to her existence, except for that one single fact: she made his heart pound hard. Pedro was never one to lay around waiting for the chances to drop on his lap, so he immediately took charge and started looking around for all possible information that could lead to their meeting and connection.

His first instinct was to talk to Rush, a friend he made back in his high-school days. Rush is a nice-guy type. He does not smoke, does not consume alcohol and doesn’t believe in promiscuity. He is the friend that all girls want to have because they feel safe around him, simply because he would never cheat on his girlfriend.

Pedro asked Rush about this girl, and to his dismay, found out that Rush was also interested in her, although not very successful in his attempts. Rush promptly advised Pedro about Syriah:

- Listen man, I would like to tell you something different, but the fact is she is the heartbreak type. Just in the last few months after you left in June – Rush added – she has left a trail of guys that she played around with, a lil slap and tickle… and that is it bro. I wish it were something different, but damn…

Pedro refused to cease and desist on this pursuit. All he needed was a name.

- Syriah, - said Rush – you say it like the country, but I don’t know if it’s spelt the same way.

- Thanks bro. That’s all I need – answered Pedro as he stepped of in her direction.

At this point Pedro did not care about anything else, and he headed to the bar, where she was neatly swinging her hips to the sound of “SummerLove” by Justin Timberlake. Pedro is as good a smooth talker as will be found in his entire group of friends, and jabbed right into his pursuit:

- I believe you must be Syriah. I’m sorry to be so blunt as to ask you… but… Are you feeling lost right now? – Pedro asked this with great confidence and it showed – Because I’ve been trying too hard, and with no success until now, to find someone that looks just like you.

- No… I’m not lost. – Replied the girl – but I am glad that you found me.

Success! Pedro had broken down the first wall of the many that, although unbeknownst to him, he would encounter in his relation with Syriah. Pedro was now confident enough to pull a trick out of the bag, and so he did:

- Here’s one for you. Let’s make a bet.

- Alright. But let me warn you, - said Syriah with the body language to match her speech – I rarely lose on these things.

- I… can bet you… - Pedro added a pause at every possible moment to increase the tension – thaaaaaat… I can kiss you without ever touching your lips.

He smiled.

- Oh really? Well, put your money where your mouth won’t be.

Pedro took out a single 200 Meticais note and laid it on the bar. He moved closer, and asked:

- You ready sweetie?

- Shoot, Mr. “I’ll-kiss-you-without-touchin-your-lips”. I wanna see that!

Pedro leaned in slowly, and their lips connected. He turned his head slightly and she didn’t back away. Her cherry flavored gloss got transferred onto his lips, and he passed his tongue over it as he pulled away. Syriah smiled as she spoke:

- You just lost 200 Bucks baby.

- It was worth every cent! – He replied, satisfaction visible on his face.

She took the note and offered to buy them a drink with the money he had just lost. At this point she leaned in closer to him. A bomb was coming his way, and he knew it. She put on a seductive face, and in a very low voice she asked:

- Have you ever had a blowjob, P?

Pedro couldn’t believe what he had just heard, but he calmly answered:

- Many, but I’m hoping to improve my stats.

- Well, then ‘ill order only one, and that will happen. I’ll show you how. Barman! One double sized blowjob! And on the tall glasses, not the wide ones… it does have to go in my mouth you know!

The barman brought the shot glass and Syriah did not take her eyes off Pedro as she pulled the shot glass closer. She then leaned in and held the glass in her mouth, and put her hands around his neck. The liquor slid out of the shot glass into her mouth. Pedro removed the glass from her mouth, she leaned in and as they kissed once again, half of the mixture passed into his mouth. The kiss ended and they both swallowed.

He pulled Syriah off the bar and they headed closer to the dance floor. “Kiss Kiss” by Chris Brown started and they dance facing each other. The song couldn’t have been more suggestive. They chatted and got to know each other a little better as they danced and kissed in between words.

Inevitably, Pedro got around to the talks Rush made about her. He was concerned that it might just end sour. He was concerned about why the relationships she ventures into are never long lasting ones, and why it is that the guys were foul mouthing her so badly. This was a sensitive talk for her and she didn’t give him much to talk about. There was interest on both sides and he was going to capitalize on that. He would remain victorious in this situation no matter what happened next. In his mind he was already thinking about how to keep her interested without selling himself short.

That’s when it happened again. Syriah gives him the vantage point he had needed since the talk had started. She began to give a brief explanation of what she thought was the reason for all this:

- I’ve been needing experienced guys, and sadly all I find are they guys my age that are not capable of keeping up with what I need or the stupidly immature older guys. I hope you show me something different. – She said with a great show of disappointment – I really do.

She stopped for a second, looked at him and said:

- I need to be treated like a princess, because that’s what I am… a princess.

- I’m terribly sorry – said Pedro – and I do regret to inform you, but I no longer deal with princesses. I deal with queens.

Syriah stepped back, amazed at what she just heard. She considered herself a princess, and he had just said he no longer cared about what she considered herself. She didn’t know what to do of it at first, and when she found composure, she finally asked:

- And what does that mean exactly?

In his vantage moment, Pedro carefully calculated his next answer. He held her by the face, gently and kissed her softly. Syriah closed her eyes in surrender, and in her ear he whispered:

- These boys are mere princes, and they do not know how to treat a woman properly. I am the king. And all I need of you is for you to want to be my queen.

[End of chapter two]

Symptoms...

Symptoms of a broken heart

Love can’t seem to mend what

The past has cast upon us

In such a way that a broken heart

Surges like lightning amidst the dark

Lonely and desperate like

Small a fish swimming with sharks

Has one to outgrow, or forget

That which hurts the most?

Jonny Quest - June 2006