so how is it, the new year, my outlook, my prospects

who the hell cares. no better than last year; I guessed that 2007 was going to be awful, but that turned out to be a bit of an understatement. now from the perspective of my couch, of my vodka and my three-coloured cat, I realize what a huge waste of time last year was. at least for me. same as the year before, and the year before that.

some januaries ago, we were in a bar and he was saying that yes, it was unfair, and yes, it sucked, and he was sorry, but he was with someone else now and, you know, things happen. besides, he said, it's not like you're doing a great job at convincing me; you're not marketing yourself. you're way too intense. he then dropped a bill on the bar and walked out, and I grabbed his glass, smashed it on the bar and made a few long cuts on my arms and thighs, thinking, you're right man, I'm intense like you have no fucking clue. then I put the pieces of glass in my pocket and I still keep them in my personal shrine.

now it's january again, I'm sitting on my couch freezing and shaking under my blankets because it feels like I have all the seven winds of the arctic blowing around my ribcage. I had to go through it again, sitting there and listening hey, you know you're lovely... but you're just too intense and thus not worth the trouble. besides, I know we shared a lot, made a lot of plans, and a lot of promises... but you know things happen, and now there's someone else. sorry, bitch.

I don't know if I've moved forward. I do realize there's nothing in the house I can safely cut with, including my still sharp pieces of long-ago glass. so I won't cut myself though I think about it. I feel it would help me calm down. but, something vaguely tells me this isn't worth it, no matter how low I feel right now. there's a red string on my finger since tuesday, it's meant to remind me to take things at their exact face value. it's telling me to hang on and not let things crush me. in other words, put on Cartoon Network and try to chill, because even though life is mostly dry and lonely and you can't count on a damned thing in the whole wide world, not even yourself, there's still some damned cool things to hang around for. they're just not what I'd hoped for.

this too shall pass.

stop all the clocks and cut off the telephone

I don't care if I never smile ever again, you know? fuck that. who wants to be fucking happy? not me. besides, my brother is right; it's NOT about being happy. it's about going in and going by and leaving only the bad behind --and not too much of your blood or the blood of others, hopefully.
happiness is only something you'll think you remember when the hard days come. you will say, 'oh lo, I wish I was back when blah blah, then I was happy.'

well guess what, buddy; that happiness you thought you felt was a complete accident. a combination of pheromones, probably good food and more likely than not, sex. it wasn't real. you think you've ever felt close to someone? that wasn't there either; it's just what you wanted to feel. if you're really, really lucky, the other person wanted to feel the same way too.

people lie all the time, your friends are lying and so is your lover. you're a liar, too (and so am I). you know it isn't personal, I know it too, and so does everyone else, so let's just live with it, okay dokie? yes.

the worst part is that, even if life has always been like this and people were always complicated, we currently live in a fucking deadpan world that only produces lukewarm, wishy washy cunts who claim that now they're swingers, who think funerals are a chance to get under the spotlight, who hide behind smarmy comments and long skirts to avoid getting their hands bloody, cunts who are pathetic, in short;

gone are the times that saw men like my father and Colin White grow up, men who not only sailed through life, both literally and figuratively, without ever apologizing or explaining themselves to anyone, but they actually trekked this earth doing what they wanted, hiding behind no one, acting to the beat of their own hearts and stirring souls, egos, minds, revolutions, questions, and the occasional stew or omelette in their paths and trails, like real men should.



rest in peace, professor white, sir, thank you again for always, always believing in me, the dumb girl with the hat who always tried to hide from you. say hello to my Father and to Blake.



one last note: colin's pictures belong to my friend miranda, who also goes by the name of Irene Adler, unbelievable as that might seem, under this wonderful new concept writers and artists had NEVER used before: it's called a PSEUDONYM. dimwits.

freddie my love

love of my life, you hurt me
you've broken my heart
now you leave me
love of my life can't you see
bring it back bring it back
don't take it away from me
because you don't know what it means to me....



you will remember when this is blown over
and everything's all by the way
when I grow older I will be there at your side
to remind you how I still love you
I still love you

no, More Frustrating.

Date #341b422u4
great hotel on Reforma, nice tall guy, australian, dinner, drinks, the works. he says I'm beautiful, the red in your hair is so cute! I say ok. we have a nice time.
655 songs on the ipod, 36.8 straight days of music, and on the taxi home I hit play and Pictures of You starts playing.

FUCK, and I was almost ok for a moment.

así como el shófol de la ipodia, que se complace en enviarme justo el combo TheCure-DresdenDolls-NinaSimone-James-DamianRice que sin fallos termina por arrancarme lágrimas mientras troto por toda la ciudad bajo este infernal sol de invierno, con el resultado que ando por la calle con una cara de compungida que daría orgullo a magdalena,
igual que
alguien en eltrabajo dejó ayer por casualidad una taza de fucking chocolatito sobre la repisa, que yo me tiré toditita encima de los únicos pantalones limpios que no están rotos y de los Nikes más bonitos del mundo, que me compré justo ayer y que son lo único que me proporciona placer estos días. nuevos duraron... alrededor de cinco horas, y eso que yo venía hasta pisando con cuidado para que no se arrugaran,
igual que
hoy alguien volvió a dejar otra taza de chocolatito en el mismo lugar, que yo ME VOLVÍ A TIRAR ENCIMA encima de los otros Nike más bonitos del mundo, que acababa de lavar para que no se sintieran mal junto a los nuevos, y del único par limpio de pantalones rotos que me quedaba.
(ahora ya no sé qué me voy a poner mañana para el trabajo).
así como
cómo te atreves a decir que me gustan puras banduchas alternativas.... imbécil.
o
señora, sería tan amable de cerrar la puerta, porque me estoy bañando. verá cuando cuelgo la toalla en la puerta, cierro con seguro y abro la regadera, espero que se note que aquí hay un ser humano que espera un poco de privacía.
y NO, esos no son mordiscos, son moretones porque en el fondo soy una bruta salvaje y cuando me sale lo hooligan pretendo irme con sansón a las patadas, lo cual significa que mi hermano me dio tal paliza el sábado que creo que un metacarpio me está saliendo por el codo.
así, o más frustrante.

speaking of dreams, this morning I definitely had my third best dream ever:

I'm sitting at a table on a long hotel porch, looking at the ocean, there's a stage behind me, and the cure is playing. they start with 'just like heaven', it sounds so good I start singing with them while I'm staring the sea, and suddenly I realize that robert smith is sitting by my side and singing in my ear, and looking into my eyes, we're singing together about angels dancing in the deepest oceans, twisting underwater, and I just wriggled all over, giggled like a schoolgirl, probably fainted, and then woke up with a big fucking smile on my face.

dream #2 and #1 are me in bed with stabler from Criminal Intent and horatio from CSI Miami, and george clooney feeding me potato chips in bed, respectively.

ps. and all this makes me wonder if maybe this morning robert smith woke up and told someone over coffee, O Lo, I had the strangest dream about some freckley bird last night...

diez veloces (y aún perplejos) meses más tarde, ésta va para mis padres. papá, sueño contigo en algún punto casi todas las noches, luego despierto y siento siempre la misma estúpida sorpresa...

si tú no vuelves
se secarán todos los mares
y esperaré sin ti
tapiado al fondo de algún recuerdo

si tú no vuelves
mi voluntad se hará pequeña
me quedaré aquí
junto a mi perro gato espiando horizontes

si tú no vuelves
no quedarán más que desiertos
y escucharé por si
algún latido le queda a esta tierra

que era tan serena
cuando me querías
habia un perfume fresco que yo respiraba
era tan bonita, era así de grande
no tenía fin

y cada noche vendrá una estrella
a hacerme compañía
que te cuente cómo estoy
y sepas lo que hay
dime amor, amor, amor
estoy aqui ¿no ves?
si no vuelves no habrá vida
no sé lo que haré

si tú no vuelves
no habrá esperanza ni habrá nada
caminaré sin tí
con mi tristeza bebiendo lluvia

el nuevo amante es imperturbable y remoto como las nubes en este cielo tan octubre y tan azul. pasa lista como general despótico y no tiene el menor reparo para indicar, señalar, corregir y reprender todo lo que no es de su completo agrado. hablamos y hablamos desde extremos opuestos de su prístino y perfecto sillón, escuchamos música, él me reta un poco, yo lo mando a volar, me pone nerviosa y él lo sabe. eso le hace pensar que él gana, lo cual a mí tan me parece curioso como me tiene sin cuidado; es mejor siempre dejar que él piense que va ganando, a menos que sea estrictamente necesario demostrar lo contrario. nos caemos en gracia el uno el otro a pesar de que somos tan distintos, a él le escandalizan mis distracciones y mi estado de caos y llamas perpetuas, yo le hago burla por ser un pequeño dictador intolerante.

este nuevo amante es frío y contenido, sin diminutivos ni hadas transparentes, no se nos pierden demasiadas caricias entre los embates y mordiscos nocturnos y el reservado beso de despedida por la mañana. sin embargo esta mente calculadora no es insensible, sabe jugar sus cartas, me planta enfrente un plato de comida caliente y observa con cierta diversión mi aturdimiento ante estos cambios, que un chico me sirva de comer para variar. de la misma manera muy serio se levanta y gruñe de ida y vuelta del clóset para envolverme en un suéter y me dice que debo comer más dulces o me voy a quedar pegada al piso este invierno.

todo esto a mí me viene muy de perlas, me gusta este guey un poco indiferente, un poco lejano, yo me callo y lo observo, le dejo hablar, luego él me deja hablar, ninguno de los dos siente la necesidad de fingir o forzar absolutamente nada más de lo que ya está ahí. para mí esto está más que bien, porque estoy demasiado exhausta para saber o querer explorar lo que siento. sólo quiero seguir y estar bien.

today I missed you so horribly, to be honest these days I spend more time being angry at you than actually missing you, although I do that too,
today was the worst though.
standing there with the music washing over me, feeling the beat of the bass in my temples and in my heart, and I felt frozen in the midst of thousands of people, my skin broke out in goosebumps, with every cell of my body aching for you to my terrible annoyance, because I knew that moment belonged to you and me, to us, you weren't there, instead somehow it was just me and so cold, and that was just WRONG.
but then again, there's no other way, for we're both sinners... aren't we? and there's just no salvation.


this dream never ends you said
this feel never goes
the time will never come to slip away
this wave never breaks you said
this sun never sets again
these flowers will never fade
this world never stops you said
this wonder never leaves
the time will never come to say goodbye
this tide never turns you saidthis night never falls again
these flowers will never die
never die
never die
these flowers will never die
this dream always ends i saidthis feeling always goes
the time always comes to slip away
this wave always breaks i said
this sun always sets again
and these flowers will always fade
this world always stops i said
this wonder always leaves
the time always comes to say goodbye
this tide always turns i said
this night always falls again
and these flowers will always die
always die
always die
these flowers will always die
between you and me
it's hard to ever really know
who to trust
how to think
what to believe
between me and you
it's hard to ever really know
who to choose
how to feel
what to do
never fade
never die
you give me flowers of love
always fade
always die
i let fall flowers of blood

a nameless play and a haiku

act i

he enters left, she enters right. they meet at the center of the stage.

He: hey I like you
She: yeah, you don't look bad either
He: wanna make out?
She: ok, but this isn't serious are we clear? no way in hell.

next scene, two days later, Him and Her are making out on couch.
He: I like you.
She: I like you too.
He: I love you.
She: fuck off, you don't expect me to really believe that.
He: I do love you! look, a flower.
Shee: OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU TOO!!! FOREVER and EVER and EVER and EVER

act ii

He sits on the couch while She paces around the living room.
She: if you ever were to leave me, I'd never be myself again.
He: I would NEVER leave you, never in a thousand years, never in a million years, not even if you sent me away, not even if you said ENOUGH, coz I LOVE YOU so much. because you're Mine. MINE!
She: I am, for I love you so much, so much
He: yeah, me too. now how about a sandwich.
She: I love you so much it hurts.
He: there there, give us a kiss and stop being intense.


act iii

Him and Her stand confront each other at the center of the stage.
She: ENOUGH! sod ye, all and every lying conniving piece of you, you never loved me and you were just using me! ENOUGH!!
He: ?????? what the fuck, everything was just fine yesterday.
She: well not anymore, my eyes are OPEN now, your time's up buddy, and I DON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE!
He: well, That Is It. I know I said I'd never ever EVER leave you, that I loved you, that I'd be there for you, that you could count on me, but what the hell. you've said enough TWO WHOLE TIMES, so there's really nothing humanly left to be done. have a nice life then! I shall now just go and die/get married/have babies/sleep around with someone else.
(he fucks off the right end of the stage).

She: well, all alone and fucked up again. he said he loved me, but there he goes, not one single look back. to think that I thought I'd die if he wasn't around... but you know what? that was cack. I'm fine.
(She skips off the stage right, humming a tune).

so what's the name of the play?

a) the story of my freaking love life in three acts
b) sartRe: hell is other people,
c) ENOUGH!! that she said twice
d) other (specify)

or in other words

lily has sure had
enough of the cure;
but she still loves her pink dress.
love,
g.


to wit:

UGGHHHH remember when work wouldn't let me live??

I think I would be either a) killing myself, or b) very exalted in the altitude of my person-ness, or in short being horrible either way, if work hadn't already plugged every single sinapsis I have available now --granted I've killed many during the years. so I haven't had much choice but doing the johnnie walker and propelling on.

so in the end, are these architectures, pretentions.... or eyelash problems?? stop the WOOKIE! WOot!! pirates all aboard!

(by the way, shopping is stupid, not a single decent looking black hoodie in the whole town..... but I managed my coveted underwear catharsis, that marvelous moment when I am the new owner of pretty new underwear, that has NEVER been touched, looked at, clawed at, not to mention removed by/torn by any guy. then I feel clean & pure again, like I can... maybe look at a happy couple on the street and not evoke SHARK WEEK in the discovery channel or wish for angry pitbulls to tear me apart in 80 agonizing bites.)

while I'm free, a memory:

B: R, top five musical crimes perpetuated by stevie wonder in the 80s and 90s. go. subquestion: is it in fact unfair to criticize a formerly great artist for his latter day sins, is it better to burn out or fade away?

(of course, this is on I Just Called to Say I Love You, High Fidelity.)

as my friend said once, after investigating a sharp pain he felt inside his chest: it wasn't sadness but hunger, a sandwich rightly fixed it;

in this case it wasn't love you needed but vacation, a couple of fucks fixed it.

just like now what I've had for days is a stomachache, definetely not a heartbreak.

what made you go *SOB* so loud you woke up the dog? today, for me it was

insecure, what you gonna do
feel so small they could step on you
called you up, answering machine
when the human touch
is what I need
what I need
what I need
what I need
what I need
what I need (is you)
what I need (is you)



and then what made me laugh until I had the hiccups;

I love the 'morrisey keeps telling me james blunt is rhyming slang' bit.

she who strives to be a dragon -- pompous, NOT.

my pretty poney -- horse perverts, go away.

the incredible tales of momichi san -- hero of the gallaxy, interstellar pricess

stateborough blues -- what would the allman brothers do?

glad I'm so sour -- now bilingual! now bilingüe!

intensity embraced -- cause who said it was going to be easy?

I'm pondering change. we need more music and laughs, and less intensity.

retrospect, bilingual (drafted but unpublished)

somos iguales tú y yo
no cabemos en el mismo verso
somos iguales tú y yo
nos queremos pero no sabemos
somos iguales tú y yo
nos tocamos pero no nos vemos
somos iguales tú y yo
nos extrañamos y aquí estamos...


just so you know, I know what you're up to.

we're both so much alike, just a pair of motherfuckers. we both mean well, but we're lame and we keep fucking up, and now it's your turn and you're fucking up. you've fucked up. these last days I've felt something I had almost forgotten about, one of those things that helped me make up my mind years ago, when I finally decided you were probably not a very good idea; that feeling that formed a part of the horrible, downright truth I felt, over and over again, when my friend turned and said, well, what did you expect? he was cheating on his girlfriend, why would he be any better to you? just cause he says?

that feeling I had every time I saw that self-sufficient little smile on ABH face when she left your classroom, her nasty looks at me, that little twist on eyes and the hug she gave you when she said goodbye, that made me sure, certain, that you'd been hitting on her... maybe even sexying her up... I was even more sure when I saw her deliberately rub you with her ass more than once when bending over and looking at assignments on the table. but mostly it was that knowing, hateful, insolent look on her face when she walked by my side. like she knew something I didn't. which I guess was true.

god it made me mad. and you know, she wasn't the only one.

cause yes I was sure you'd been telling her stuff. being charming to her, as you usually are. you pretend otherwise, but you know you're adorable, that we can't help but loving you, so tall and handsome, you and your big sad eyes, and you use that. I bet you tell them all about how horrible your women are to you, maybe you combine all of our stories, maybe you're telling some of the bad times between you and me as part of only one tale, let's keep it to the essentials.
who cares about your girl and your friend, who only supported you and vouched to you and stood by you and fucking went head over heels crazy for you for six months? who the hell cares?

you know, I don't even care about her either, I'll be fine, I know that in time I'll forget about loving you, and about what I feel right now, all broken and bruised and bleeding inside again, because you've been a dick to me, you lied to me, you used me, so soon I will never love you again. you're not worth it.

oh joy hardly contained!
she can be over-the-rainbow happy too...

and that, people, IS Daniel Craig playing Lord bleeding Asriel!!! life can be so grand! whee!

<< link removed cause it was a pain in the ass, but go here instead
and, for the sake of the geek (me), please answer the quiz, will it please you not?

ps wtf (what the fuck) happened to my daemon, who killed it?

oh baby
here comes the fear again
the end is near again
a monkey's built a house on your my back
and I can't won't get anyone to come in the sack
and here comes another panic attack
ph here we go again

de nuevo, está cabrón, la neta, todo es bien difícil, quiero luchar por ti pero no sé si es lo correcto, ¿me explico? gran parte del tiempo te siento tan, tan lejos....... lejos como en siberia, en alaska, en el remoto japón; en un país lejano, con comunicación esporádica y breve; pero días como hoy me hacen darme cuenta de cuánto te amo, cuánto no quiero dejar esto, cuánto no quiero que renunciemos a lo que tenemos, que lo que tenemos es real, sin importar lo razonable que sea simplemente olvidarlo y dejarlo ir.

ya vi que en mi intensidad yo lo que deseo es que tú quieras hacer algo al respecto, pero me doy cuenta que no lo harás (al menos no ahora, ni pronto), de nuevo es mi decisión, lo cual me caga porque odio que sea mi responsabilidad, más que nada porque sé que tiendo a tomar la decisión errónea, no tengo la menor ecuanimidad, me pongo intensa y me siento aislada y vacía y erosionada sin ti, un desierto sin emociones, excepto por la sensación de dolorosa soledad, ojalá pudiera pasar semanas y semanas sólo con la idea de nosotros en la cabeza, sin dudar, sin desear, ser zen y esperar tranquilamente a que todo fluya, pero simplemente no sé si puedo, creo que no, mi corazón y mi mente son dos animales salvajes que aunque intente no puedo controlar, y que les encanta hacer la guerra entre ellos; cuando mucho logro engañarlos, solaparlos por horas e incluso días seguidos cuando tengo suerte.

sin embargo, sé que en algún momento estallaré y cometeré alguna tontería, me largaré a la Indochina con tres dólares en el bolsillo, me iré de escudo humano o me lanzaré en amplia parábola al viaducto, en fin, quemaré en definitiva mis naves, porque ya no querré pensar, ni soñar, ni desear, ni esperar más. porque voy a preferir ponerle yo un punto final a todo, en vez de seguir aislando un presente muy real a costa de un futuro incierto, un futuro que no puedo vislumbrar siquiera, ya no digamos palpar o ponerle nombre, teléfono y dirección, esas cosas cotidianas que son tan tontas, pero que son lo que constituyen y forman una vida común.

lo que intento decirte es que yo realmente no necesito que estés aquí todo el tiempo, ese realmente no es el problema en este caso, pero ayúdame a encontrar la forma en que yo pueda estar tranquila, o un punto donde yo pueda encontrar un balance, una forma de estar bien,

o quizás no la haya,
pero tal vez sea terca durante aún algún tiempo.

femina, insana

-- the other day I dreamed that my mother, brother, and I were waiting at a table for you and your lot, a family reunion, as it were, you showed up all happiness and smiles, oh la dee la, except you were with your wife, and carried a baby in your arms. 'I had a child, did you hear?' you said with that big smile, and I answered yes, I heard, except I heard you had a boy, and that you're holding is clearly a girl, all curls and bows and little dress. either way, I walked away from the table even though everyone called me back, since I clearly had nothing to do there.
the really whacko part is that throughout all this, we both had the same hairdo, and as usual it probably looked better on you.

** what drives me bugshit about you is that you really buy all that crap you tell me. in your heart of hearts, you really believe this is a tragic story about a true heart and an untrue bitch, instead of the incredibly tiresome story of the guy who won't commit and panicks into believing anything. even that he's still in love with his ex, who's a bitch everytime she points out they didn't really have a very good relationship at all.

## about you, sometimes I really wish things could be different, that I could love you so we could set out to find a rock to comfortably decompose on, grow lots of plants, build lots of crap, and possibly have maybe blonde, definetely insane, if not very tall children. but you can't command the heart they say, and the fact is that I don't love you and I never did. I tried enough to know for sure.

::: you're cruel to me and... I sort of like it. then hate myself for it.

update: since I never seem to acknowledge good things, I wanted it to be on the record that the ipod, my own, my precious, works wonderfully this morning and all it wants to do is rock.

thanks siddharta and the power of visualization, everyone should try it.

now I'm off to see if I can visualize myself a little trip to europe...

yesterday I came up with the great idea of taking a stroll in the early evening, with the pretext of getting some air and looking for an extension cord. the cord I couldn't find, I found plenty of air along with rivers of pouring rain, plus I managed to lose my purse, with my cellphone inside, together with my atm card, my credit card, and the voter's card I had so improbably managed to hold onto since the age of seventeen.

but despite this bleak pre-start of the week, and despite the fact that I had to wake up at an unholy time, nothing better to kick up the self-esteem on a monday, having to take three coins from the garbage guy money to secure more minutes in a payphone so I can fully explain my mother that I lost the wallet and phone again and ask for her help cancelling everything, since I definetely don't have the coinpower-- despite all that, I thought I was having a pretty okay day until a couple of hours ago, when my ipod took the plunge and jumped into the water in the shower.
(of course I wasn't taking a shower with the ipod on, I was attempting to unplug the showerdrain, my life is full of excitement.)

I am trying not to let this make me feel bad, it will probably be all right after it's dried out, I'll sit here and visualize my ipod back to life, but suddenly I want nothing but pizza. and vodka. and hard drugs.

happy monday. pray for ipod.