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Brewstice
Please stop using shampoo

Fort @Brewstice

Age 22, Big Bro

Drummer

/watch?v=hCs9OKHPI2M

São Paulo

Joined on 6/8/17

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Brewstice's News

Posted by Brewstice - July 21st, 2023


"How much of what I want to say and act on is, if not objectively right or necessary, harmless enough that I can be entitled to?"


This thought eats away my brain and ability to be at peace with myself just like a worm.

I have been sailing for the last few months on these uncharted waters of life, and I like to seem to myself I am finally becoming able to. The deep dark sea I look below shows me a better view of the stars above.


Posted by Brewstice - January 16th, 2023


It has been two days since I have decided to skip the last two diary entries in my actual diary, and this here day felt special enough for me to decide and write the first part of it here and share with you.


It is been the first time in my life that I felt like my body just refuse to react in sync with my mood, something that I have only ever understood as horrible, since I have only ever felt it before as a collateral effect of medicine made for soothing me brain.

This time, it felt good. I am happy, but my body does not show it.


What made me think about this was waking up like shit in the morning and noticing I could see the sunlight move from my bed.


"Hey! I can see the day going by!"


Then I wondered what else could that imply about myself.

Ever since I started working as a "storage goblin", 6-days a week for soon-to-be an year, time became my nemesis. I constantly must think about time, over the feeling that I have no choice but to live for my job and nothing else, as I only think about how I have to work the day after when I have a day off, and paralyze the rest of the day over that.

I grew to hate many aspects about the flow of my life, like the need to sleep, no matter how hard I try to sleep early... getting home by 11pm every day.


"So, what'll it be: are you sleeping tonight at 2 deliberately or accidentally?"

"Who knows, this time if you miraculously get to bed, you might wake up at 4 and stay in bed for hours again!"


So I guess today worked as a reminder. A reminder about what will soon be of my life, or would be have I not bought a new bike, and did not remember the two-year long credit fuck my grandmother got me.


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Posted by Brewstice - October 23rd, 2022


As much as I consider my life to be uneventful, I love how easy it is for me to find wonder in anything that happens to me every day of my present life, from strangers making me feel avenged to bees making me feel pardoned.

I consider every day of my life worth starting a diary for.


Yet I never do.


These present moments feel more like "yestermorrow" to me now, for I don't know at what point in time I am, but I sure as well know it isn't today.

Every time I escape my routine and get to rest home, some small bits of reality don't add up until I notice them by coincidence, things I call hiccups.


When I think about my memories...

It's very hard to know for sure what my exact age, or anything else to that matter, was at that perceived time.

Everything is but raw feelings.


I know of this lemon tree we used to have in our yard before everything was cemented. Its fruit was few and feeble, and it only grew weaker as time went on. I don't think I ever ate any of its lemons, ever.

I don't remember when it was cut down, made its uselessness official.

I don't remember if I saw it happening.

I like to think I've washed my hair with its fruit at least once.

I'd love to have one right above me after a green funeral.


Like this has ever happened.


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Posted by Brewstice - October 19th, 2022


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I used this website for it!


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Posted by Brewstice - June 6th, 2022


A quarter to four in the morning, I woke myself up as I felt synchronized with my earthly form through a direct, deliberate action in my dream that basically handled me the remote control.

In moments of triumph, all I can feel is regret, cringing at the idea of having an ego, even just minimal enough to recognize my basic needs.


The patterns I see in my recurring dreams, as I dream them, is the ambivalence of clarity absolutely everything has.


I am a hero, though not really.

I am on an urgent mission, though seconds feel like minutes, and minutes like hours.

I have a very fast lady as a companion, and she is shrouded bythe ways she was supposed to look like.

10 wolf pearls through a wide and seemingly endless road is what I must collect... for something. Most of the time the only thing I can say to know for sure is that I have pearls, and said fast lady has their own paraphernalia to catch.


But I have this recurring character I see the face perfectly and not at all, both at the same time, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

She's my antagonist, with the closest description being a brunette Penny Carter in a ticket clerk outfit. Hell, she could be related to Margaret or Elizabeth, I wouldn't be sure. I can't never be sure.


Throughout all of these dreams, she is manipulating everything for she was the one that started my quest through these dreamscapes that look an awful lot like the game ClusterTruck, except the truck. Thought tonight I was indeed riding a huge one looking for the last orb to bring to her.


And I always come back the same way. Through completely spontaneous means, I always see myself hanging out of the side of a small bus she is driving; she disguises herself as a bus driver, and she always gets pissed off when she sees me just above her head. It always means I have won today's challenge.


And we would always have this talk, about how much she loved to be above me and knew everything I would or could do, finding new ways to her perfect prison adapt more and more to everything I do, going back on every prize and chance to leave, save the world, cure a family's illness or whatever the fuck.

In her words, she wants to do this so she doesn't have to be so active about it anymore. Probably wanting to live her facade life as a bus driver and parking valet.


The location where all this "dream-end" happens is also very important, since together with the strong feelings of knowing her from the earthly side of the world, I know for sure we always go to where I used to live, the parking lot to an English school right next to my old apartment. She would do everything through and behind an entrance desk that didn't look but did felt makeshift.


This time I was the one beyond pissed, which for me is at least ironic. I grew sick of her "end of episode" monologues and just flipped the desk and started looking for a button or anything that would allow her to create these challenges, as she would flip out and scream, trying to understand where did that attitude come from.


Almost in what felt like all fours, I got to her shoulders and pushed her back further down the parking lot. She wasn't scared, or angry anymore.

I wanted to talk about how or if she remembers me from when I was a kid, as vividly as I did back then. How much I grew attached to her ever since the first day she gave me a nickname and I asked for hers.


"I am not your damn mother!"


— No, not like that! — I said, as I was just as ready to eat her up right there and then.


I don't remember what she said exactly, but her words were of perfect, reciprocal intensity and love, as we kissed and hugged each other's heads like we were about to force our molecules into fusing together.


It was at the moment we kissed that I had this shock in the back of my head, instantly 'remembering' me that I was asleep somewhere, with the only other detail being how immediate she got me... ready for action, for lack of better term.


I kid you not it was really that fast. It being everything that happened, but one thing:

The realization. Letting go of this yet another love of my life embracing me, and staring right into its inconceivable eyes.


When I was ready to be in charge of my actions, my first choice was to wake up.


Chop-chop, got work to go and nowhere else to do.


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1

Posted by Brewstice - December 14th, 2020


Reality is subjective.

It can be modified,

taught,

and lied to.


It can be instructed, obstructed, omitted.


But none of them can be truly, universally false for everybody. Perspectives can't be blatant lies at their core to someone believing them, once they or something else managed to communicate them to you.


So what if they're a video game character? Aren't our egos all jealous that all of them had a satisfying ending to their journey and their story, while ours becomes more and more chaotic as you zoom out?


Reality is a direct product of order and harmony.


Order just also happens to be what you get when you zoom in enough in certain threads of the web of chaos.


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3

Posted by Brewstice - October 5th, 2020


I know it is very hypocritical, but as I am antibirth (and also a TBoIstan), I can't shake away the thought of having a daughter and how cool that would be. I've been learning about anthropology, psychology, pedagogy, sociology, philosophy, someotherbullshitology... being interested in studying people and societal roles for as far as I can remember, and been able to share my knowledge to prepare a happy child for a great future, guiding her through all hardships women face in a daily base with all the easier routes she can get... it must be an amazing life experience.


I want to give her the random prize of existence and help them with the things nobody thought me back when I needed this still growing, always present timed wisdom to be free. Though maybe they can already exist, and I could adopt one. Only a few, temporary drawbacks exist, such as me being yet only a young lad, the harsh reality and usual destinies of Brazilian foster children, and the fact I have never been into an foster home or orphanage before.


Time to wait.


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1

Posted by Brewstice - July 9th, 2020


Check out my bud's just finished new game!

Check their art too here.


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2

Posted by Brewstice - June 25th, 2020


Today is the two-year anniversary of my last and almost successful suicide attempt.

I'd use a trigger warning but from this alone you can probably tell, if you're even reading this.


Realizing this while searching through some old data on my phone made me spend the whole day thinking on how things could've been, specially because of how much horrible things I've been feeling responsible for doing, by how I'm differently wired and interact with those I love.


Schizophrenia. Depression. Borderline. Anxiety. Autism. Not to mention my memory and communication skills.

For starters, these are but walls I have to use as stairways to get anywhere I want to. But this cycle of trial & error has been getting on my nerves since at least 2014. Ever since then I have been acting as a fake, bright smiling shell, carrying a prown in my face everywhere I go, to everyone I meet, filled to the brim with nothing but unsatisfaction or drained on the spot, completely apathetic. A tiring, unstable point of view. Failing love interests, friends, family, and myself. Destined to end up in jail sooner or later for the mildest to the most outrageous crimes, on purpose or not. I'm tired of guessing everything that's wrong with the human way of life, and being sharply correct everytime. Being able to see order where in the big picture there is only chaos.


I want to make a difference. A minimal one, in this small glance of order I see.

But I don't know where to start but... with myself. I need to achieve a mechanical heart, with a mechanical brain to do those things, or else everybody and everything else with broken frames of mind, blessed with ignorance and the birthright power of a raging kettle, will bring me down almost without even noticing my rammed corpse.


"Is it weird to not believe in the Apocalypse while believing in the Great Filter?"


Adolf Human-Scum just had one forsaken job, and yet he failed like the smooth brain he was*. And if I say I am not glad he did, just because of said results I'm about to mention being small in comparision, I would be lying. Chaplin knew this all along; He knew about the amazing minority of truly powerful, blissful and masterful members of our global and culturally diversed society! Those who would go on to inspire others to give bliss, to teach us all the arts of thought and perception to all kinds of '-ies', and to use their capacities in any way they can to achieve our mutual goal of a preservation, development, peace, tolerance and health where we can all enjoy how gratifying it is to help and act for each other through our own fundamental ways!


You know, I am a "Fake it til you make it" type. I know how my story ended up in the way I'm able to think today and what I want to do. Using a sharp tongue, a shaky right hand and my more functional in comparision left eye, I want to inspire generations to come, instead of being remembered as an example.


But...


How?


I mean, I DO know how, but happily I can't do it on my own... and sadly, I need to take the first steps before getting any support at all.

There is just so many people I have yet to list, again, in one of the many other lists I make in a week. So many people I want to base my work around, for the sole purpose of teaching children the amazing world they can perceive in any forms and how they can show them to others. From the flamboyant rich european blondie to the black forgotten african child with a parasite-filled belly.

And humor is my main weapon of choice to reach them.


...This hope rollercoaster is getting old. I should pick a side already. I mean, how can one be so... half-hope?


That is... what I love about chaos. There is no way around it anyway.


BREWSTICE



*Come on. He made the same mistake as Napoleon. What a dummy.


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3

Posted by Brewstice - June 7th, 2020


Even though many of them perform in curious and personal ways, several artists already have an excellent cyber presence representing their work, their niches and their groups, even before all the chaotic and downward spiraling situation of 2020. Some with a bit more contact with this tiny digital realm recognize obstacles and, almost as indirectly, act as tutors for interested or, for the most part, newcomers without much choice. From and for these newbies, a handful of new questions and puzzles arise, requiring much more creativity and reasoning for problem-solving, from independent producers seeking publicity and space to large studios with a large marketing team.


In the name of the preservation of their lifestyles, the harmony together with theatrical ethical foundations and by the indefinite period for normality to come, the lack of adaptation ends up being extremely debilitating to those who do not try or for any reason cannot reconfigure their art at a virtual, tacit level.


Nowadays, knowing where to obtain the necessary support, without compromising what you already do and in the exceptional way you do it, seems to be the most fundamental basis for the future that is coming, for you to be part of it, and for that possibly the most precedent influences are not increasingly repressed. The value of art has always existed in volatile contexts, iconizing history, anthropology, geography, and especially, languages and communication. As long as there is somewhere to get information and learn new things, this value, however sensitive it may change or be, will still remain precious to all who seek it and to those who can be encouraged to.


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