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.

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.

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.

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.

to those cunts who tried putting a knife to my brother's heart, I curse you once, twice, thrice, and a thousandfold, you and your own; may your hair and teeth go loose and fall off, your eyes get sore and dry, may your feet blister and swell inside your shoes, and may someone step on them repeatedly, may your team always lose at the last minute, may your dog bite your ankles when you pass by, may your wives always be bitches to you, and never ever shut up; may your food forever and ever taste like fatman in the subway ass, and may your water always have someone else's boogies in it.

and when you die we'll meet in Hell, where I shall kick your balls for eternity.

los tres principales que hoy me arrancaron profundos suspiros en el pastel de carne conocido como metrobus:

3. el shuffle de la ipodia ii, al cual yo le oraba por algo prendido, algo prendido porfa porfa porfa, sumergida en la mer de corps y sofocándome lento, muy lento, y me lanza 9 crimes de damian rice. otra vez.

2. la señora que me barrenó el metatarso en una clara violación de la ley de la impenetrabilidad.

1. el imbécil que intenté voltear a ver porque sentí que me torteaban, pero fui impedida por treinta articulaciones yuxtapuestas, entre codos y rodillas. al final resultó que no era tanto el torteo, sino que el tipo me sacó el teléfono de la bolsa.

sometimes it seems like there's so much that you need
sometimes the world is upside down
sometimes it seems like the only thing you need
is holdin' someone's hand as you walk through town

I don't like pretending to be this tough. I just don't know what else to do or how to act. I realise I probablydon't live in the world of Grand Malade, but for me it's just so difficult to reach out, specially when I feel cornered or awkward. everything just seems out of place.

the house hunt goes on despite continuing rains and workload, but I've found nothing worthy of mention. my mother texts me sperantical blessings, which lose validity when going through all the technolobilia, I believe.

just like my online bullshit tarot readings. all of which read that I'm hellbound for disaster.

remember birdman? he was my favorite when I was little, I loved him and was fascinated by the fact that he lost his powers when away from sunlight, I guess I liked it that he was so fucking cool and at the same time could suck so much and so easily.

I also loved the fact that Avenger, the eagle, was the one who ended up saving the day, and on the few occasions when Avanger was abducted/disabled in some way birdman was rendered utterly useless:



I remember playing I was birdman --never birdboy or godforbid birdgirl and wish I had an Avenger, a cool companion/relative who would complement me and never failed me. my daemon.

you're my Avenger lily, please COME BACK GODDAMIT everything's turning to shit and I REFUSE to go on WITHOUT you. today I posted pictures of you all over the block; I hope you're happy, I had to plaster your face in plastic slips and I've left my socks on the roof, you know I don't have many, so now please COME the fuck BACK so we can make plans and move on as we're meant to.

in the meantime, birdman is deprived of sunshine...

he pasado el día entero apretujando mis carnes con toda la banda (que no olía precisamente a lavanda) en el metrobús, una experiencia que por lo visto me gusta tanto que la repetí unas ocho veces hoy. de mi casa al banco, quedé encajada entre un señor muy alto y muy peludo que me miraba muy fijamente, y un chico con el que quedé de cucharas, se veían como tipos decentes y estoy segura que no era la intención de ninguno de los dos imponérseme a esos extremos, pero es difícil conservar la intimidad cuando vas nariz con nariz, nalga con nalga, codo con codo, con diez mil desconocidos, en fin que la campechanez llegó a tanto que el chico detrás mío ya muy gentilmente me tomaba por los hombros y me ayudaba a comprimirme contra él para que la puerta no me machucara demasiado en cada estación. cuando me bajé ya de plano tuvimos que rodar los dos juntos, fue una vuelta elegante, vaya que hasta cuando me bajé me sentí mal, dije... hemos compartido tanto, estuvimos tan cerca, y no supe ni su nombre.

y como dije gracias a la eficiencia de nuestro contador, debí aventarme ésta unas cuantas veces.... en un día de partido. de tanto en tanto miraba hacia el espejo, arriba, y veía un mar de cabezas, una profusión de camisetas del américa y del cruz azul, ondas de calor y espíritu humano irradiando en todas direcciones, y mi propio rostro perdido e intenso.... no me veía demasiado infeliz, gracias al hecho de venir roqueando fuerte, pero definitivamente sin la ipod no lo hubiera logrado sin algunos desmayos.

¿qué, será tan difícil poner unas pocas unidades más a trabajar en elcorredor Insurgentes maldita sea? ¿es necesario que me tengan que tatuar en los muslos la anatomía de todos los que vienen a mi alrededor? ¿tengo realmente que verle la oreja TAN de cerca a esta señora?

I am most definetely not thinking about you.

It's nine o'clock at night and I just got home from an evening spent with my lady mother, being object to the most painful manipulations (we went to get a facial --we're so burgoise these days).... so now I'm behind in all my work, I've got fifteen mails to write, twelve calls to make, nine people im'ming me about the spencer tunick experience, and cartload of whites to hang out to dry... so I can't possibly be thinking about you.I can't possibly be missing you. I haven't got the time.

and yet I am.... I wonder where you are, how you are, if you're thinking about me. if you'd mind kissing me much, if you were here with me. then I make it stop with a cold knife.

I managed to lose my gym shoes, yay for me. I kicked them off yesterday to go shake my tummy in the arab dance class, and this morning I realized they were gone, vanished, disappeared, nada; I can only assume I contorted my way out of the classroom and completely forgot to pick up my lovely black suede pumas that I absolutely loved and bought cheap at a sale. darnshit.
AND I just found out the pants of the tracksuit I bought today --lose shoes, buy tracksuit.... it is damned logical isn't it? one things follows the other-- are so tight on my huge ass and
thighs that I can hear them gently weep. that's what I get for not trying stuff on.

OSSShhshsh. <--------- frustration.

as I was telling M earlier, the most difficult part of life for me right now is to figure out all these complications, which are plentiful, *while* at the same time figuring out what to wear
everyday. call me superficial.

well... back to work and to missing him... osh

well, here I am lost in tollukannation again. it seems internet shops here aren't quite 'in' yet, and the only one in 15 miles around --or so natives will tell you-- won't open until the right alignement of dust, fog, and goats happen; so here I sit trying to look tough under a cold merciless sun, entirely attired in black, furiously squibbling on the sidewalk while listening to the ceaseless baaaaaah! beeeeh! of eight hundred sheep who look just as indignant as I am ....
on top of that, a guy just walked past me with a pair of vans just like mine. damn him!

st. anger

I am proud to announce that in the wee hours of yestermorning, my lily gave birth to yet another three calicos like herself. potential names have been:

strawberry, vanilla, & chocolate
lucy, sky, and diamonds
bubblegum, buttercup, & blossom
strawberry, fields, forever

these are magic kitties people; apt for thinking people, witches, wizards, and people who are willing to give them a challenging life. adopt yours today.

yesterday was also my father's birthday, and while I terribly ached to stay with my litter, it was made very clear to me in many different ways that it definitely was NOT cool to miss papa's birthday, newborns, protests, thunderstorms, traffic, and muggers nonewithstanding.

oh yes, my brother and I were mugged at gunpoint on the bus on the third hour of travel between the teahouse & my parents'. it all happened very fast and no one got hurt, and that's excellent of course --like I need that kind of drama--, but I lost my wallet and my cellphone, plus about 80 dollars, which is a PAIN IN THE ARSE since it's still the only money I owned on this side of the atlantic. and my money in europe well, I can't very well swim there now, can I?


so pardon me if I still think that both my parents' birthdays hold a curse for the whole family. to fill on my father's side, last year he almost gave up the ghost on his birthday, and the year before that I was leaping into a plane to ohio, which in retrospect was not a very good move at all. the year before that... oh well, I don't need to find more evidence... you know I'm telling the truth.

I've been very cranky and that worries me; I really DON'T want to get depressed.
it's just... a lot of silly little unfortunate things have happened. and I'm starting to feel powerless about everything again; I can't afford to not have my computer fixed, but I can't fix it until I get my money, and in the meantime the days march by and it's almost end of the month again and I've been falling more and more behind at work.

crap.


three songs about cities without the names on the title
la ciudad de la furia -- soda stereo
under the bridge -- red hot chilli peppers
moon over bourbon street -- sting

my question then would be: why the compulsion to say 'I love you' so fucking fast?

monstruation

life is majorly frustrating today. my own thirdworld-ness confounds me to no end.

mad, mad eleanor.

I just had to send back the first decently sized job my outsourcer in europe has sent me in months. my computer's fried and now I can't for the life of me remember a time when technology was last kind to me.

I have a twist or some stupid thing on my neck and i've been dizzy and queasy the whole day. hormones have intoxicated me and I guess I should be grateful I'm having my period after all the feistiness of the last fortnight, right. well shitting shit. fuck looking at it from the bright side.

stupid mr ekos and his ultimate hotness, and his being around so little in the last few episodes. I need his muscley shiny mean mother prescence to make me pant and forget how utterly terrible I am for administrating my own finances.

I hate it that it feels like punishment for running away for the weekend, even though I made sure to rely on not one but two payments, and not one but two computers, the old better safe than... ironic that now neither payment looks like it's ever coming in, and I can't get either computer to work right.

fuck my bank, too, who refuses to take transfers from abroad because I'm just not good enough. fuck bananacorp, where they think I can afford to just wait for a payment since mid february.

fuck bush and stupid donald rumsfield, who apparently owned Roche at they designed teraflu, and according my sir boss, engineered h5n1 in order to become richer.

3 songs for a horrible day
1. wave of mutilation -- the pixies
2. blister in the sun -- violent femmes
3. ashes to ashes -- david bowie

touchee

love notes, eleanor and marianne:

<<Milady
Well darling, it seems like you didn´t know me.
Yes, i can be a bitch.
Hello big news.
But I am not a baby or a spoiled brat
And frankly my dear,
you are the bitch.>>

<<gracious miss adler,
point completely taken, my deah. after establishing that I sometimes show all the sensitivity of a styrofoam cup, and that you are just a wee bit intense, I do believe we might shake hands, spank each other a little, and mayhap afterwards have a good cup of tea.
shall I put the kettle on then?
p.s. I send thee these melodies for you to sing during the daily toil..
top 3 tunes for the ladies
1. disco 2000 -- pulp
2. shiny happy people -- r.e.m.
3. drop dead gorgeous -- republica>>

please some dj save my life

isn't it annoying that when I manage to land a really cool job, I can't talk about it? for the whole day I've been looking for some dj-enlightened person for technical coaching, something I didn't think would be too hard considering how many musician buddies I have --well tough luck so far. and it pisses me off that bel hasn't answered my email for help on this matter. it also pisses me off that I like musicians so damned much.

oops, freudian slip. I'm just not in a good mood, what a surprise!

as usual, my huge upcoming pay --oh you've got so much WORK, that's so GOOD for you-- had to be broken up into insignificant amounts I could do practically nothing with, except trying to patch holes. I just got a very stern call from the school, reminding me that I owe my two last payments and that the course ends on friday--a true joy that doesn't do much good to me now since I don't have the money.

and speaking of why I do not, yesterday I had to lay coins all the way to polanco --that is, take a taxi to the publisher's-- only to learn that according to the flippin memo that someone should have been sent to me but didn't, as of March 2006 --and yesterday being still flippin february of course-- the days for payment are to change from tuesdays to fridays, so no check. did that make sense to you?

that all doesn't only mean I didn't get the check I was counting on to make peace with my traitor albion school; it doesn't only mean that I won't have it on time for tomorrow, the last day of payment; at the moment it also meant I had to throw money again from a cab window on my way to school, because I had to be there by six for observation.

I had forty five minutes of pleasurable observation with a kind teacher of indefinable accents, who made great emphasis on sePArable and insePArable phrasals, and invited the students to make crafts while he roamed about. then lizzie and I could not take it anymore and we threw ourselves out of the window.

and thus I lost all my afternoon, roughly three and a half hours I could have spent working on this cool new job that of COURSE is NOT urgent, because we understand you have other things to do, but it's due for release on MARCH! 1st !, so yeah, no hurry at all, but now that you have them, can you have them ready for tomorrow, eh?

but now I'll have to leave it because I have to go to my superstupid class. that I can't pay for.

top 3 of I'm so annoyed
1. sam hall -- johnny cash
2. break stuff -- limp bizkit
3. caught out there -- kellis

me wanna go home

pheeew. I see my long days are back.

it was so pleasant going back to the shop today, and I wasn't in the least bothered that the Boss wouldn't let me out of his sight, not even to go to the loo or have a cup of tea; I spent the morning trotting between the two stores, getting all the papers ready for accounting, getting praised for the cleanliness of my record-keeping, and stupidly revolving upon my own axis. it's nice, isn't it, when folks notice that you've been gone and they're happy when you come back.

and that, my friends, was my sunny side of this day.

to not sound like a martyr for a change, I'll admit that the wellbeing held --sorta-- for a couple of hours after work, but they were spent planning class with rochester. we both solemnly agree --and never cease to repeat, to everyone's amazement-- that it's one of the lamest ways one can spend the time of day. specially with the ficco (festival internacional de cine contemporáneo) starting this week. I would encourage people more warmly to visit the website, but it's being retarded as is customary in mexican pages. hmph.

(si alguien conoce un link válido por favor móchense).

anyway, after some bitching and a fair amount of working, we grudgingly filed for class. as usual, the watch stopped ticking as soon as I crossed the door. the trap was closed; here I am for three hours. I'm not very sure what happened in all that time; I wrote the lyrics of a few of the longest songs I know by heart, we had a very informative reading about the history of chocolate; terms such as "amicable", "dire", "sown", etc had to be extensively defined, and sometimes acted out; then we sat back and contemplated profoundly upon our contemplation.

our class is scheduled for wednesday, and it's supposed to be the second to last, which is very much yay. the bad news is that the wicked instructor scheduled the exam I missed last monday --on account on being secluded in a gravity zero capsule under the risk of having my head cave in-- for right after the blessed class. which probably means that everything that didn't cave in last monday, will rightly leak out the day after tomorrow.

I know, I could have spared the visual too.

spring is in the air. my darling kitty is no exception and is now a slave to her hormones. yesterday night she spent nearly an hour cooing and singing to her sweetheart in the house next door, but he never came out. monkey is squeamish, he'd never set a paw outdoors until he moved to his current home, and consequently he is a bit wild; he is ok with her stealing his food, but not with the snuggling. not yet.

why haven't I had her fixed? interesting question. the answer is $$$. I'm taking her tomorrow to the vet so they give her The Pill --bitter, bitter irony. I'll just have to hope I'm not too late. I'm really not looking forward to taking care of a pregnant kitty who's still scared to death of mila, the Terrible Hound of Aguaskerville.

speaking of, marianne has started her own blog and she'll need peer pressure to keep up with it. there's the link then.

thus another weekday goes by... where has february gone?

top 3 of oh god it's so late
1. uptown girl -- billy joel
2.whoever you are -- geggy tah -- sp. dedicated to the guy who used me as a human shield to shove people left and right and get us off the damn bus
3. sultans of swing -- the dire straits

mila is slowly chewing on my foot. for her not being my doggy, we have a sound time together; we walk around a lot, I scratch her a lot, I talk to her a lot, it's like all the advantages of having a dog and none of the unpleasantness.

except that she's taken the apparent vow to chew through my lingerie, the prettiest first. I'm tired of finding that what looked like a integer pair undergarments is actually just a collection of scraps. of very fine lace, by the way.

good news today is that I got some money in the account, so I could eat today. the bad news is, it's not enough to pay for the rent tomorrow even if I fast for that purpose; I might as well.
so... I'm probably going to be late, but I ate a whole lot of tacos. quid pro quo, and a lot of salsa.

wow. she just ate through the shoe. marianne has to take me shopping now.

de vuelta. mi oído, sigue tapado. my ear is still clogged.

me parece de extrema importancia que esto quede bien claro en los dos idiomas.

hoy me despertó un llamado telefónico de T al filo del amanecer. en los tiempos en que he tenido que trabajar temprano, yo también he olvidado, por completo y por conveniencia, que no todo el mundo tiene la misma fortuna de ver el amanecer sobre tacubaya seis días a la semana.
en fin, que T está preocupado; su sentido arácnido le indica que me ha ocurrido alguna desgracia. me insta a que me revise en busca de alguna dolencia fatal; es posible, con eso de que estaba profundamente dormida, que haya pasado por alto un prolapso de esófago o algo por el estilo.
pero aún después de pasar lista, me doy cuenta que además de la sensación de que se me está pudriendo el cuadrante superior derecho de la cabeza y algunos cólicos leves, lo cual ya no es nada nuevo, lo único que puedo reportar son muchas ganas de ir al baño.

colgamos, y me sumo de nuevo en la inconsciencia. sueño con lo de siempre.

1. dazed and confused -- led zeppelin. now more than ever, but that's the subject for another post.
2. teenage dirtbag -- wheatus. crap song, but addecuate on the winter of our discontent, when I've decided GUYS are just as stupid as GALS, and therefore, I am an idiot.
3. down by the water -- pj harvey. i always feel morbid in the mornings.
4. sting -- roxanne -- the only version I could find in limewire, ok?
5. lightning crashes -- live -- not my fav tune, but today it will do.