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.

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

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.

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 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.

I'm just so pathethic, so much I don't even mind openly admitting it.

it's nine o'clock in the morning, I've been up for three hours, I've been sleeping shit for weeks now, even worse since I came back from the beach because, on top of my ongoing intensity, I have two cats who aren't used to living in such close quarters, and they've taken to practice their lacrosse at 5 am, on top of my head, while I twist and turn with nightmares and longing.

I tried hard all this week, after the misery parade last week, that I truly truly lost it, all week I've been trying to keep upbeat and optimistic and my-god doing stuff... I can't hold it. this morning again I am a drippy mess who can't manage anything but whimpers.

good morning, I'm 28, and like my brother I didn't crack at all during my father's funeral, for that I donned the armor so well that I'm afraid it's become a second skin; however, I can't keep my cool for more than a few days while waiting for... what? what am I waiting for?

to see if he'll come back? if he'll stay? don't I already know the answer to that?

and until I get that through my thick skull, it seems I'll be stuck with this --the longing, the wishing things could be different, everyone trying to be nice to me while giving me that look, the look that says well, what did you expect woman?

I didn't expect anything, to be honest, but still here I am wishing...

we were in bed, naked, our arms around each other, we were laughing, you kissed my neck, I held you tight, kissed your shoulder, felt your smell, said 'I've missed you so much', and started crying
you said, 'but why do you cry?'
'because I think I'm dreaming, and you're not really here'.
and presto, I woke up alone, crying, and cold.

if you're dead, then you should come and haunt me, cause otherwise I will never know and thus forever will think that you just up and left me.

but I don't think you are, I'm pretty sure it's me who is dead and in hell.

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.

is it full moon today? was it yesterday? why am I so friggin intense? I feel like an extremely large bunny is burrowing under my chest, bizarre as that might sound.

yesterday I was halfway through the season's ending of Grey's Anatomy and I started bawling my eyes out. then the episode turned to the extreme absurdity again and I promptly stopped, thank god. it's good to know I haven't reached those levels of pathethic yet.

but I'm not far off. this morning, the flock of seagulls sweeping over my head had to literally pick me up from bed, and that's why I don't ever give my heart to strangers, or tell secrets to my friends.

laughs haha

ABSOLUT bananas

this week I'm a model of industriousness, even right now as I attempt to catch up on my correspondance --mostly with about.com--; spellcheck the last batch of the latest riveting issue in the Car Manual Saga, 207,000 pages of pure raw excitement; telepathically contact 1) my french boss, who's probably wondering what could possibly make me confuse 'i'll check in on tuesday' with 'I'll call on thursday. maybe." 2) my bank, so they'll crunch debit & credit to come up with rent money sufficient for the last month of my residence herein; puzzle out what to wear to work tonight, since after three days of ongoing event I have wrung out every possible use out of my very limited wardrobe, especially on the shoe area; conciliate the fact that my online radio station is playing damian rice AGAIN and thus now I have successfully managed to choke up at 10 am;

and I make my attempts from my bed because I'm utterly exhausted. intensity strikes down again with more relatives passing away, impending doom on the lovefront, with a lot of things that need to be done/said/dealt with on both of our parts, inminent homelessness and destituteness, plus I've newly rediscovered an old knack of mine, the amazing nausea in the morning... all that on top of having to run all week on heels and interpreting vodka tastings (which is excellent fun I promise, no complaints there except for yesterday night, when I had to apologize in the name of my country and humanity in general when some stupid pimply junior came to one of the most renowned cocktailers in the world, and who probably is worth more than him and his father combined, and ordered a vodka tonic. fortunately the mixologeer is so cool he politely told him to sit down and be quiet instead of cursing him in swedish, smashing a martini glass on the bar, and cutting Pimples a little, like he was entitled to).

oh and I just found out my cellphone is dead, cause in all this tedium I haven't found the time to go and pay the bill. yay.

also, I think I live in the twilight zone. ufos might still get me...

first of all, I hereby thank all the gods that be, sgt pepper for his 40th anniversary miracle, and father avila who can't have hurt, when guiding me to my estranged cat last friday.

every bruise, every single scratch, every curse we earned from a sleep loving neighbor, every shock from the electric fence of her heightly imprisonment, felt like bliss with honey and pancakes as I walked back with my flipped out kitty press-packed inside a tiny pink Barbiepack borrowed from the owners of the house where we found her, who were very eager to get rid of my loudly meowing midnight presence.

your Majesty says thankee, too.

and now that my spiritual leader is back and we can go back to dealing with Real World, something I just couldn't do or manage last week, I realize that without my noticing, my life has gone quite bonkers again. I realized today that my life has turned to shit, when I found myself looking forward to going to work and get distracted with all that.

when you're a xenophobical turd and your work is your sanctuary, it's not nice when it is invaded by hordes of people, especially when your gentle and usually calm oasis of butterflies and teacups becomes the shelter for EVERYONE else as well, including two self important film crews, a press conference for the V--- F-- girls, who are as unheard of as utterly plain and a huge pain in the ass with a miniskirt, along with every single ever watching eye to be there and make smartass comments --or notes plus the odd drop in and stray.

I took too many aspirins today.

I hate being like this --I know there are many things that require my attention RIGHT NOW, but I can't concentrate. because seemingly without my vitamins I turn into a spineless something that feels crowded and won't function anymore --let alone work all day, finish the books at the shop, and prepare for a presentation next week... not to mention keep up with gym, plants, and starving brothers, but I have to get intense don't I. and want to do nothing but to slowly decay.

lily please stay

my life used to be awful, every night I'd lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and grinding my teeth with horror of who knows what, my eyes open for nights without end of indifferent silence, and suddenly there was you curling up by my side and keeping horror and indifference away with the loud no nonsense of your purr. you'd rumble on for longer than I could stay awake, or even you, since you went on purring in your sleep.

for almost three years, whenever I wake up sad and wanting to cry, you've been there to cuddle me, many times I've cried to you, and every time I came back home feeling shit you've been there to touch me and give me comforting little noises. when I'm sick or just sad you sit behind my head and you never move from my side.

I learned that we were meant for one another in a dream, I went and fetched you home and since then I've felt that I can handle anything, bad days, funerals, broken hearts, fights, loneliness, hesitance, indifference, oblivion & fear, if I have you, a tiny little thing to have, silky soft tiger lily with her clown face and her white spot on the tip of her tail.

yesterday I dreamed you were hiding inside a rubber boot. I picked up the boot and brought you home, and I could see your pretty freckled nose poking out. and hear your purr.

please come home, lily. don't leave me, I don't think I can make it without you.

there's a part of me you'll never know
the only thing I'll never show
hopelessly I'll love you endlessly
hopelessly I'll give you everything
but I won't give you up
I won't let you down
and I won't leave you falling
if the moment ever comes


hello,

these last few days I've been thinking a lot about that silly argument we had the night before I left. it was silly because it wasn't really an argument to begin with, was it? we'd been having a wonderful time, watching a movie and being silly sweet to each other, then we started talking and you said how you felt, which made me feel fearful and vulnerable, and I immediately shut tight like an oyster, defensive, and I wouldn't say anything else, and after you repeatedly asked what was wrong and I said 'nothing', my behaviour made you go mad.

it isn't until now that I realize that I am selfish, like you said, in the belief that what I think has no value to anyone but myself; I just never thought you (or anyone else for that matter) would be interested in what I think unless I had a solution for the problem (which I don't). this says a lot about my view on relationships in general, I suppose. I realize I hold this same notion for all of my relationships, ranging from work to family. I'm sure I've heard that impression of me 'going blank', 'holing up', 'turning into a freakin mummy', once or twice before, within a wide range of contexts.

I never once thought we could solve it together. or that your knowing how I feel might make it better for us, even if we don't solve it immediately. or that even YOU might help solving it, cause all this is not only the matter with me, but the matter with us, so it's not only in my hands to fix it... or bear with it... it didn't even occur to me that you might feel better if only by knowning wtf was wrong with me at the moment, cause I changed and you noticed... like you always do.

I know, this all sounds so dumb, human relationships abc, but honestly none of the above had ever made light in my brain until you pointed it all out; see, that's one of the reasons why I love you; cause you say things in a way that makes sense to me. when you make me look at you in the eye and tell me of these self-evident principles, they finally ring true to my ear. not many people in life have that power.

accidental

well I held you like a lover
happy hands
and your elbow in the appropriate place

and we ignored our others
happy plans
with a delicate look upon your face

our bodies moved and hardened
hurting parts of your garden
with no room for a pardon
in a place
where no one knows
what we have done

do you come together ever with him?
and is he dark enough, enough to see your light?
and do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
do you miss my smell?
and is he bold enough to take you on?
do you feel like you belong
and does he drive you wild
or just mildly free

what about me?

well you held me like a lover:
sweaty hands
and my foot in the appropriate place.

and we use cushions to cover:
happy glands
in the mild eschew of our disgrace.

our minds pressed and guarded:
while our flesh disregarded
the lack of space
for the light-hearted
in the boom
that beats our drum.

well I know I make you cry
and I know sometimes you wanna die
but do you really feel alive
without me?
if so, be free.
if not, leave him for me
before one of us has ********* babies.
for we are in love.

do you come together ever with him?
and is he dark enough,enough to see your light?
and do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
do you miss my smell?
is he bold enough to take you on?
do you feel like you belong?
and does he drive you wild
or just mildly free

what about me us?

accidental babies, damien rice

cleaning house!

today I saw corners of my room that had lost squareness with filth; my piece was like two nightfalls away from successfully channeling the return of the hounds of tindalos.
I sorted out a shitload of dirty laundry, washed a first load... and of course, when I was ready to start hanging it, then it began to rain.

of course, no one said it was gonna be easy.

it's been eons since I sat down to properly write. I've been meaning to, wanting to, with little success; life has been getting too much in the way, as it's been known to do.
pompous much, eh?

life is okay right now. most days I wake up happy and in general I don't feel much like complaining for getting up, going out, and doing what I'm supposed to every day. things are far from perfect, I don't get enough work and/or money (duh), family life gets intense after someone very important dies, there's new people to meet and old people to get to know again, lots of sorting out and trashing out to do; an intense private life too, with lots of friends lots of stories and lots of souls just swimming around in a huge fishbowl, year after year after year; intensity that combines and mingles and escalates and sometimes shares bed and bread with you. because, just as if I didn't have enough balls to juggle, enough food on my plate, enough fires on, choose your metaphor, in short, just as if I had nothing better to do, it seems that I've fallen in love again, and thus I am the foolish victim of my passions as much as everyone else. when he's with me my happiness is complete and I fly high as the sky; when he's Away I pine with the best of them and I am.

why? to summarize.... because I'm intense, just as everyone else around me.

as I said, most of these days I don't mind dealing with all of the above. once you embrace intensity as your lot in life, you admit that you're stuck with it for good, and not only with the plentiful intensity within you but in all those you call your own, who shall also be embibed with intensity, and you come to terms with the fact that nothing in your life shall go without complication, in another manifestation of murphy's great law or, yet in other words, who
told you this was going to be easy? sucker. thought you had the tiger by the balls? think again.

well once I accepted all that, I found life can be beautiful again. sometimes. for brief lapses of time. whenever I get some free time I grab yarn and needle and stitch all these scraps
together so maybe when I look back this will look like a time of solid uninterrupted happiness. in general, I'm pretty sure I am happy. I'm in love, I love a lot of people the best I can, I have a nice job, I've gotten to the point where I kind of like myself again. my plants and my cats like me too... most of the time.

life is just as complicated as always, but I am fine. how you've been?

osh, it won't stop raining.... annoyance extreme, since I can't dry my clothes and I have nothing to wear.... I think I'll go to the supermarket, I might even be evil and buy some ice cream or something, bad girl tut tut beep beep. but I think I deserve it since it's saturday evening, I cleaned out my room, my man is Away and it won't stop raining.... I hope I'll be writing more soon.

si tú no cuentas tu historia, otros lo harán. imaginad todos ustedes la historia de su vida según la contarían sus personas más cercanas... léase tu papá, tu hermana, tu hijo, tu amigo, tu mujer. vean si la idea misma no les hace correr a tomar pluma y papel.

léase que ésta ha sido la semana de las historias: toda una vida de labor detectivesca en la investigación de mi padre, una tarea titánica y frustrante, años de especulación y comparación de notas desde dos lados de un mundo, arrojan un solo resultado. No hay monstruo, no hay gran misterio ni secreto, ninguna loca encerrada en el ático, sólo un hombre que guardó un fiero silencio durante 35 años por razones que sólo a él le quedaron claras......

ellos (nosotros) contarán la historia, y todos los recuentos terminarán con 'claro... debió haberlo sabido'. y todos
asentirán, diciendo claro, claro.

todo es relativo, ¿eh? comencé este blog hace ya casi cuatro años, lo cual parece que fue ayer mismo por un lado, por el otro hace eones.... a veces se me dificulta reconocer, o recordar, a quien yo era entonces, lo que me importaba, lo que me alegraba, lo que me hacía llorar... de alguna forma, estos cuatro años --que no parecen nada-- han formado un abismo que yo ya no puedo cruzar, un abismo de la memoria que me hace contemplar a una extraña cuando miro hacia atrás.
sin embargo, en entrevistas P cuenta que fueron casi seis meses de estudio, más un año de componer. ésta es de nuevo la relatividad, me imagino. porque suena mucho más razonable decir que fueron dieciocho meses de productividad, porque decir que en realidad fueron más de cuatro años de toila, comenzando más atrás que el origen de la memoria, cuatro años y toda una vida que se llevó el río.

y en buena hora, dirían algunos.... pero lo que los demás dicen también es relativo, porque los otros siempre dirán lo que ellos creen que quieres, o que necesitas, escuchar. el problema con esto es que a veces tu propia historia la cuentan otros, y entonces cambia.

así como cuatro años (o dieciocho meses, según tus fuentes) nunca se han sentido tan cortos, nunca una semana se ha alargado tanto como ésta, tampoco. Eso no me molesta, porque no quiero que termine, con todo lo horrible que pudo ser.