drunk mail to a girl #5132

disappeared and lost:)
waiting in the shadows
not just to you, mermaid woman

time to reap, time to sow – and so on...
i haven’t been writing people emails anymore
not like then
i go to the beach now
it will end
when i’m back at the mountains i’ll have no beaches to go to
i go to the beach with a guy who likes climbing
and another guy told me this story about the rise and fall of a karate gym
he was there and he trained and he won
and his master was serious
and his master got famous
and his master got greedy
and the days of sweat were transformed
into participation medals to the many beginners
and he moved to kung fu
and he trained and he won
and he moved to thai boxing
and he’s worried about training his capoeira better
and i go to the beach with him too
and a guy who played professional volley and likes jiu-jitsu
and can cook things he learned with his mother
and they’re as good friends as i could ever hope to have
and it feels good
and there’s this argentinean guy who plays the guitar like a tangobossanova devil
and this french girl who smiles like girls can smile and make guys write things about their smiles throughout History
when she’s just happy and distracted and she smiles
and all these people
all the time
while i feel so alone
there’s all these people
i could say many, many more
and i like them all
and they’re here, as i blink
and we go to the beach and we
drink claras
around
and
i’m just one
i can’t manage to be all the places i’d like to be
now
right now
and it’s definitely not
in a computer
writing mails
but you
call for me
and how could i just say nothing?
you’re write
i haven’t been saying anything to you for so long
and you say
come
and i’m here
to tell you such a stupid thing
it’s my conclusion, after spending long minutes staring this screen
thinking of what to say
what i got to
at the end
i must tell you
is this:

you’re a door, in my life
you’re just there
and i’m far, far away
a long time ago, but somehow in the future
i’m there
but i haven’t forgotten
i saw you there
a door
to my life

when i’m around i’ll ring it
i won’t forget
don’t you worry about my disappearance
i saw what you can do
i saw you through the fire, i guess
and you laughed of it
and all the beauty i saw in you
then
took form
from smoke
to stone
and i know
i’ll ring it
and i’ll bring a flower
and i can only hope if you disappear too
it doesn’t mean
that you forgot

a kiss

kiss

About sex and football and girls and, mostly, the sky

Mostpeople have these complex theories about sex. The Good Sex is done like this and like that. And you need three persons. And peanut butter. Chantilly. Dwarves. In some cases, two Dobermans and a stapler. I don’t know. I got a little funnyguy up there, but I’m not in the mood for that. I hope you got what I mean, though.

Mostpeople have complex theories about sex, but I don’t hear any complex theory about relationships and dating and love. Love is simple, you see... You need sharing, and caring, and loyalty, and... Love is like Santa Claus. Santa Claus is an old guy who gives presents away at Christmas. These cute inexistent things you keep talking about so you have that cute little block of thinking inside your brains, or your heart, or any other part of your body you’re not using at its best.

No need of complex theories for that.

Relationships, though, have been dignified with some consideration... But it’s a basic, stupid theory. It’s no state of the art, or anything. If relationships were football, the basic theory of those who have a theory would say: “Commit many faults and you’ll win”. It works generally because most people are not talented, and they are rarely exposed to any extraordinary – or even simply out of the ordinary events. So their plans can’t really be developed. Mostpeople can’t commit faults that well, so they just live along with a bad game.

But if you can take care of your business, in relationships, well, if you hurt all the other team, I hope you realize, there’s no more game to be played. If the other team can fight back, shit, I have to go rhetorical questioning now: Do you kiss when searching for love, or for a wrestling match?

Shit. No fighting is ok with me. I’m pretty good with that.

Mostguys have a complex theory about football, but they don’t really seem to have been watching the sky.

The sky is bigger than any girl, you see? I mean, not to me. I’m so small. I’m so small I can’t stare directly into the sun. I say this to people and they appear to take it as some kind of smart catch. I was through with smart catches shortly after I started taking words seriously. You can’t stare directly into the sun. Our sun isn’t even a big one. Some suns out there could fit four of our solar systems inside their circumference. You are 149 million kilometers from our sun – its light takes eight and a half minutes to reach you – and you can’t look directly into it.

There’s the whole universe out there, you understand? It’s not Santa Claus. It’s not this silly love you have wrapped in plastic. It’s out there. Everyday. Every night. It’s there. You can’t see it. It’s marvelous, and you can’t have it cause you’re so small.

When I see a girl in a certain way, I feel complete as a man. I feel like every part of me is working, every sense is awake – I feel I’m functioning completely.

When I look into the sky a certain way, I know all my senses are not enough. I’m weak, and dying. You are too. We all are – small and weak and dying. This is no smart catch. You never felt it? I feel it, when I look into the sky a certain way. And then I see a girl again, or a three, a dog, a blue, a green, or even that very sky – and things around me, at my smallness, get more beautiful than ever.

And more concrete. They’re here, and I can see them. And some of them I can get to really know. Some things like a girl, or even myself. Maybe I can get to really know then, sometimes, for an instant. And that moves me. I am dying – I will certainly end – but for now, somehow, I’m still breathing. And - though I have no idea how this happens, it really makes absolutely no sense at all - somehow it still hurts.

water walk

Sometimes mostpeople will make me think that I’m crazy – because sometimes they’ll think I’m crazy. And if you’re walking alone in the dark with no flashlights and everybody is screaming you are crazy, you start doubting things.

Mostpeople are amazed by my observations and conclusions, till it invades their personal world. Till it gets personal. Till they realize I’m serious.

They think I’m crazy. About girls, for example, they always have this cute smile when I’m talking, as if I was a child trying to impress them (the smart and enlightened grown ups). Then they realize I’m serious and they’ll get angry at me.

This friendly old guy down here is John Cage:

John Cage

John Cage is a pioneer of electronic music, for example. This means he was doing electronic music when everybody thought electronic music was for crazy people. There’s no way to describe John Cage’s compositions in a blog post. He is probably the most controversial composer from all times.

Mostpeople would have fun with John Cage. He will make them laugh. But that’s only till they can understand him. Till they realize that in a deeper sense he’s telling their music and their music taste sucks. He’s saying you’re ignorant and intolerant and feeble minded.

Mostpeople are always angry with me because I say they’re ignorant. I never say that. They discover it themselves, through me, and get angry with me. Man, if you spent your life watching television and going to parties and nothing else, you ARE ignorant. There’s much to know. What can I do? It’s not my fault if you’re not learning any. If you only watch comedies and action movies you are ignorant. If you’ve never read at least a hundred books you are ignorant. If you know nothing of psychology, or anthropology, or sociology, or philosophy, or history, or art and so on, you are ignorant. Getting angry with me is just a confirmation of that. Getting angry with me will just help you numb the problem – it won’t make it disappear.

John Cage is one of the most talented and enlightened musicians ever, and he’s probably also one of the most offended and insulted musicians from our time. Mostpeople will say he is crazy – at the least. If opportunity comes, they’ll hate him.

Mostpeople makes me think I’m going crazy, but usually people I respect, like John Cage, make me think I’m on my way.

Someone I also respect told me once: “Lay your pearls before swine, throw the saint to the dogs. Giving is all that matters”. So despite mostpeople’s incapacity to appreciate this, here’s a little bit of John Cage for you. And as you watch him and laugh you should keep this in mind: He’s a genius. If you think he’s a fool, the joke is actually on you.

She dissolves your words in acid

to smoke a joint 7:45am
and to leave work at 8:02am
in Barcelona
with headphones
with this
song
in my throat
in Barcelona
Bar-celona
Barcelonia
this city is
strange

there was this block from a certain street,
in my hometown
deep, deep into this huge world you ignore
there’s this street
with bars
on both sides
and people would gather there, at the weekends
and the place had its own style, you see
its very personal fauna
a little Neverland
inside the city
in the weekends

Barcelona is that block into a city
with a beach
and shopping centers
and tourists
and the same drugs
and the same mood
with different clothes
and languages
and me
and a magic sleeping joint
at 7:45am
to go home
with a girl
from very, very
deep
into this world
vaster than night
i ignore
with a song
in my throat





Pearls Before Swine - Look Into Her Eyes

that's a razor make a million billion threats

that's a pill and you've got to take it
that's a pill that you've got to take
that's a pill and you've got to take it
i won't rest until you take it

that's a heart that you made
that's a heart and the both of you made it
that's a heart that you made
and i won't rest until i break it

it’s l‘histroic de la famile
it’s l’histroic de la FAM
it’s l‘histroic de la famile
and i won't rest until i forget about it
i won't rest until i don't care
i won't rest until i forget about it
la la la la la la la la

that's a razor and you will make a threat
that's a razor make a million billion threats
that's a razor and you will make a threat
and i won't rest cuz i heard it all before

my behind is a beehive
there's a buzz in my backside
my behind is a beehive
and i won't rest while you break my will

je t’aime the valley
je t’aime the valley OH!!!
je t’aime the valley
i am an orphan de la valley

and i won’t rest until i forget about it
i won’t rest until i don’t care
i won’t rest until i forget about it
la la la la la la la la

Xiu Xiu - I Luv the Valley Oh!

more than words to say

when i sit to write a line is when i feel at home
instead of staring future ruins
awaiting death to come

if i sit with you in mind the line will draw a rose
and try to turn you into a beauty
time cannot decompose

if i sit with you in mind
i've got a keyboard shinning

i have the swirl from all the pearls
that come out when you're smiling

and if you look at all this inc
maybe you will think
that it's ok

but all the words
what they create
it doesn't matter
just a game

i could take it to the sky
i could be silly
hey, hey, hey

i could write:
"my name is billy"
i could spread it every way

all these puzzles are so simple
i can do this everyday

but if i wasn't oh-so-stupid
if i had more than words to say
guess only then i could be screaming
your true
deepest
name

it was no dream; just like the ocean, your eyelashes

i'll keep on dying
every hour
sitting home

you keep on smiling
lotus flower
singing
om

my mind's a slum
but you should hear
just for today

if you will come
or disappear
it's all ok

it makes me happy
just to know
that i was there

the world is flappy
about to blow
my life is air

it was no dream
just like the ocean
your eyelashes

if i depart
from here as quick
as the light flashes

i felt your heat
before my heart
returned to ashes

thank you

The world flashes with beauty and I'll write a poem

e o que observo entre o piscar dos cílios
é um lugar desconhecido povoado
por carruagens de entidades improváveis
que correm ágeis sobre um chão de estrelas
e vêm do céu para brincar nos átomos

buscando êxtase encarando o infinito
eu me encantei com um sorriso verde
entre cabelos de amazona marciana
de chamas claras no infravermelho

fotografias que dispensam negativos
olhos que brilham como blocos de esmeralda
uma surpresa ainda fresca na lembrança
que traz delírios e perguntas no espelho

um rosto meigo pra arrancar o véu das musas
que nome doce sopra o mel de vossos lábios?

funciona assim:
"peque o que quer
e depois
pague por isso"
é o que me diz um tal ditado árabe

quero me lambuzar de tudo que fascina
e o azul-anil do que é a minha sina
propõe barganhas mil
pra debitar na pena

o mundo traz beleza
e eu escrevo
um poema

--------


i don't like translating a poem - it's like painting a music
this can't translate the poem, but at least now you'll know what it says:

what i observe between eyelashes blinking
is an unknown place populated
by carriages of improbable entities
who run with agility over a ground of stars
and come from heaven to play in the atoms

searching ecstasy facing infinity
i fell in love with a green smile
among the hair of a Martian amazona
of bright flames in the infrared

photographs which demands no negative
eyes that shine like emerald blocks
a surprise still fresh at the memory
which brings delirium and questions to the mirror

a tender face to tear apart the muse’s veil
which sweet name blows the honey in your lips?

it works like this:
“take what you want
and then
pay for it”
that’s what will tell me a certain Arabic saying

i want to be smeared in all that fascinates
and the sky-blue of what is now my fate
proposes a thousand bargains
to be charged at my feather

the world brings me beauty
and i’ll write
a poem

A love puzzle

I realize this will be a little bit too long for mostpeople’s Internet reading habits. But I’m not talking pointlessly about a movie I watched or about my daily life or gossiping about neighbors, girls I fucked, politics or celebrities. I spend great part of my short years thinking seriously about love and experimenting with it. Few people do that. I believe I have something to say about the subject, and if you can’t read a couple of pages to improve your insights about love, you actually deserve no love at all. You’re just mostpeople, and my words are not for mostpeople.

When I speak of love, so we can make this clear, I’m probably not speaking of what you understand by love – unless you have thought a lot about it and experimented with it as well. This word is overused and underexperienced. It’s not a dream, but an experience. A state of mind. Something attainable.

People say they’re looking for love, but it ain’t love they seek. People say they don’t believe in love – or that they don’t want it just right now – but it’s not love they’re running from.

A quick example I was discussing with some friends earlier: conquest techniques. You treat a woman wrong, and she’ll come crawling to you. It’s true – mostpeople are that stupid. They can’t help their legs from kicking when you beat their knees with a hammer. It’s only natural and this is only a single example. You throw a piece of mango to a dog, for example, and most dogs won’t want it. But you hold that mango in front of his nose for an instant and hide it away for you to see its reaction. The dog will get curious. Interested. He’ll reach for your hand. You show the mango again and hide it away again. You do it times enough, with certain ability, and most dogs will eat that mango.

I’m quite interested in dog training, but I want a girl better than a dog. I want women. You can call me proud, or something, but if you all choose t-shirts so carefully, I’m quite sure the girl I’m with defines me much more than my t-shirt. I want a woman who’s better than a sex-slave dog.

You treat a girl wrong – I’ve seem this many, many times and I’m sure you have too – and she comes to you. And you feel like victory, and you’re happy. But you probably don’t plan things. Mostpeople don’t plan things. They can only create fantasies. If you say: “I’ll go with red” and you look at the sky and say: “I’ll go with blue” and it gets dark and you say: “I’ll go with black” and you paint the house as black as night and when the sun comes up the house is white and you say: “I’ll go with white” you’re actually planning nothing. You’re just drifting, and your plans – the words you summon and call plans – are nothing but verbal reflexes – they are not decisions.

Mostpeople don’t plan things, and I hear my friends saying: “I’m fucking this girl, she’s a bitch. She gave me no attention than I ignored her and treated her wrong and she came to me and it’s just a fuck”. And a week later they’re saying: “That girl is really sweet. She’s lots of fun” and a month later they’re saying: “Can’t go, man. I’m watching movies tonite with my girlfriend” and at a convenient time they’re saying: “I love her”.

This is not love. This is social/sentimental reflex follow ups.

And later they’re saying: “My relationship sucks. My girlfriend sucks. I treated her so nicely and she gave me no attention last week. Now I want to break up and she’s being so sweet to me”

Shit, you should fucking know better, shouldn’t you? Didn’t it all start like this? Wasn’t this EXACTLY how you got there? Wasn’t you the one trying to train dogs instead of looking for a woman? You knew she was like this before you started. You could only start, actually, because she was like this. For all your weapons are for dogs, and if someone behave spontaneously and reasonably you wouldn’t know what to do with that. You knew she was unfair at the beginning and in fact you reinforced it in her when you used it to fuck her.

Are you any better than her? She’s blind, of course, she bends herself to an enemy and forget her friends. But you were there in the game too. You can’t see that well. Are you any better? If she treats you nicely, won’t you just follow your convenience too, and care little for her? If she’s away won’t you fight to bring her back?

I believe people have their own legs. They go where they wanna go. I watch and I react. I choose what’s best and then I force my body to do the right things and my mouth to say the right words. I’m no dog. I’m free.

A friend of mine had this theory about freedom. He said freedom is for angry beggars. “If you can go A or B and you choose A or B, this is not freedom. This is random. If you’re hungry and someone offers you food, and you refuse it – that’s freedom”

If I beat your knee with a hammer, will you feel like kicking? Can you call this feeling your desire? Can you say that’s what you WANTED to do? The hammer is not your desire. Mostpeople confuse it. Following your desires is actually freedom. Obeying the hammer is simple slavery – even if kicking is considered being free in some cultures.

Freedom is having your knee beaten by a hammer and not kicking, if you don’t want to.

I’m free. If I want a girl and she walks away, I let her go. I feel like running after her, but I don’t want to live on the run. I want a girl, not a fight. I’m not in a hurry, and I’m no dog. I like dogs, but I believe I can do better. I don’t have to fuck, only. I can love and fuck too.

If someone is treating me nicely I feel no immediate urge to please them. But I need no immediate urge to eat either. I eat, most of the time, because it feels good. To repay kindness feels great. You probably should try it more often.

People have all this shit against love because they’re too lazy, ignorant and corrupted to experience love. If you can only eat dog food because there aren’t supermarkets and you can’t cook, dog food still sucks. If you’re too lazy, ignorant or corrupted to cook (like if you lost your arms already, for example) this is no reason to say dog food is great. No reason to say there ain’t no lasagna around. No pizza, no sushi and no salad and only dog food everywhere. If you have only experienced dog food and you call it cooking, you’re dumb. You shouldn’t pretend what you experience is what the whole humanity have experienced or can experience. The poets have being talking about something for thousands of years and if you think it’s all bullshit it only means you’re ignorant and you’re protecting your ignorance, instead of attacking it.

Mostpeople can’t understand love’s puzzles. You need the fire, for example, but nothing can be on the fire forever. You must learn smoked food, if you want to be a chef. And cold salads and sandwiches and so on... Out of the food business straight back to the animal world: You cannot achieve love while trying to manipulate the dog in people’s minds. If you fuck through manipulation you’re only masturbating yourself with other person’s body. Meat dolls.

Some said we’re like isolated islands – all of us – and no matter how many bridges we build, the abyss is always there. One can almost really touch another through sex. And you have this bazooka in your hands and you use it to throw paper planes around.

I’m not mounting cute words for stupid girls to copy into cute shallow Internet messages. I take all of this very seriously.

Anyone can fuck, but to love it takes ability. And it’s easy to feel frustrated with failures and just go coward. Say you don’t want love anymore.

People I see denying love fall into three categories, mostly: a) the weak b) the dumb c) the mean.

If you can’t follow the hardship in love’s way – like loyalty, care, awareness and so on – you are weak. If you don’t realize love is a possibility, you’re dumb. If you realize it and have the strength to try it, but you can’t – for example, you adopt the general rule “One must be kind” and you’re blindfolded kind (you’re kind even when it’s obvious the time for kindness has ended, and you keep hugging and kissing a girl who just want to be left alone for a few minutes) – well, you’re dumb too. If a salesman can’t make a deal, it doesn’t mean deals are a fantasy – maybe the guy just sucks.

And some are just mean. They have more pleasure in manipulating and conquering then they could ever have sharing. Do you take pleasure cooking for your friends, for example? (If you do, and you’re a single girl, call me:) If you’re just mean – and that includes selfish, sadist, vain, greedy and so on – fuck you.

Sometimes, I should add, when people run away from love, it’s not love they’re running from. It’s attachment. My friends fuck bitches for a month and they become girlfriends. I can have love in one night. I can have sandwiches – I just don’t like dog food. Vulgar, pointless, socialawardwinning egodriven stupid sex. When I say I’m out for love, I don’t mean I need to lock a girl by my side and to be the world for her and for her to be the world for me till we eventually get to experience even this same useless attachment you feel for a girl or a toy or a dog or a pillow that’s lingering around you for too long. Till we experience everything. This is a feast, but I can have simple meals.

There are loves, and Loves, and LOves, and LOVes, and LOVEs, and LOVES, and LOVES and LOVES and so on...

I just don’t like dog food.

I'd rather fight than have to lie

Sonic Youth - Little Trouble Girl

Death in her eyes (6 of 6)

I’m alone now, and I’m still a shithead. A fool. A sucker. I know I’m the one who’s writing, but I’ll let it to you the choice for a name. I’m failed and small and weak and dumb and losing. I’ve been through so much and I’ve learned so little.

I accept it. That’s the way it’s supposed to go. I trust the ones who were better than me. It’s hard, but it’s the way it’s supposed to be. I accept it. Sic transit gloria mundi.

I don’t know what to think or write or say. These chapters were about five girls who changed my life. The rest was basically repetition or waste of time. Repetitions or disappointments. I accept it. I even embrace it. By repetition I know I’ll have love in my lap one of these days – so gladly smiling back at me again. I wait for it, patiently.

Girls have a powerful effect on me, and I spend long nights thinking about them. A girl to me isn’t about herself, or about me. It’s about something beautiful we can build between us, for us to share. It sounds cheesy if you speak of it, but biology sounds difficult and my heart beats on its own.

This blog is about girls, and things I think or thought about them, and things I lived or will live with them and the lack of meaning in everything and the search for love.

You are, probably, welcome.

The emptiness chapter (5 of 6)

She was fifteen and I was twenty three. She was a lesbian and hated men. She told me: “I want to date some guys now. I’m tired of girls”. But she would tell everybody: “I hate guys”

I thought: “Is this girl hitting on me?”

She was a kid and she was a woman. And I had seen love already. I felt like I could love just about anything. She was a challenge, I guess. At the very beginning, I wondered if I could raise love among us.

But she wasn’t looking for love. I don’t really know what she was looking for. Something unreasonable. I aimed at love, though, and shot myself there. And she beat me along the way. She would fight and deny and suspect me and later accuse me of having her only to go at my house and masturbate me. I said: “Shit, what a whole lot of work I had for a handjob, then...” It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t listen.

But love was there. She wouldn’t listen. She would attack me as I was so naked. But it was a challenge, in a way, and I had to know. She had the strongest temper I’ve ever seem in a girl – and this can’t be taken lightly. But she was a kid, and she was a woman and she needed love. And I loved her. And I kept going – you see, so what if I bleed?

But I had to decide things myself too. I could choose between security or throwing my life in an abyss. I loved her but she didn’t know how to behave. These chains were not strong enough to hold me. The fire wasn’t enough to scare me away, as I wanted to stay, but if I want to let go there was nothing to hold me. I haven’t yet met chains strong enough to hold me when I wanna go. I said: “I can’t take this no more. I’m going away. I’m going to Europe and I’ll be a beggar in Paris. And mostly everything you know in me will die. We have a few months, though. You can choose. We can be together this time”

She said yes. I asked her to try for beautiful months. She did try. But trying is a very precise word for what she did.

She would break up for no reason and come back to me in a few days. She would argue for no reason. Hurt me for no reason. I’d say: “Can’t you see I love you? We have a few days together before I leave and I wanted so much for these days to be beautiful, why are you doing this?”

She’d cry “I’m sorry” and do it again later. She couldn’t control it. It was difficult for her too, I guess.

And my last Saturday in Brazil I spent lying on the floor, watching her sleeping at my bed. I picked her up in the middle of the night, drunk and vomiting all over the street. Earlier that day she broke up with me because I wouldn’t perform cunnilingus on her. Shit, I was tired. I wanted to sleep. I had eaten her pussy for half an hour just a few hours ago. Half an hour is not a loose number. The whole Moon Safari album. Forty three minutes. She didn’t even want that anymore. I felt it. She just wanted to control me. She knew I wouldn’t control or let myself be controlled. She just wanted to fuck things up. And she did. And at night she called, drunk and crying, and I got up from my sleep to drive downtown and I picked her up and brought her home and put her in my bed and lied on the floor and she said “I’m sorry” a thousand times all the way and I said nothing and when she slept I watched her and I cried.

It was so beautiful when she wasn’t trying to kill it. But she was just an angry kid and this must pass. She was just a kid and I was supposed to be a man so I took things like a man and I regret nothing.

Today she’s older and we talk and for some reason she’s actually the one I miss. I wrote a book about her. I wrote a whole book about her because I was always thinking about her and the things she is and what she meant to me.

I’ve seem too much disappointment and learned to expect lonely nights and cold mornings. Though I long for almost nothing, I’ve been longing for the day I’ll see her again. There was just something magic in her curious eyes and even in the ballet of her tempers. Something in the way we felt when we were together – and the whole world was nothing but a strange breeze passing under our feet.

cuando canto yo me olvido

Pepe Nuñez
Media Pena
(Half Sorrow)

Si una pena es media pena para qué tenerla en cuenta? sólo me alcanza de ida y a mí me falta de vuelta pero para qué tenerla en cuenta? Que mi corazón no piense que me voy a buscar otro sólo quiero que la pena no camine con nosotros pero no me voy a buscar otro Copla corta y que me importa? cuando canto yo me olvido ay, si mi pena pudiera hacer lo mismo conmigo esta copla es corta y qué me importa? Que mi corazón no piense que he de hacer lo que él me diga si quiere penas más grandes que sólo él se las consiga pero no he de hacer lo que él me diga Siempre queda alguna senda por donde no van las penas y unas coplas dentro de uno que las van haciendo ajenas pero siempre queda alguna pena Copla corta y que me importa? cuando canto yo me olvido ay, si mi pena pudiera hacer lo mismo conmigo esta copla es corta y qué me importa?

If a sorrow is half a sorrow why to care about it? it only reaches me when it's coming and to me it lacks a come back but why to care about it? My heart should not think that I'll go to find another I just want that this sorrow doesn't walk among us but I won't go to find another Short talk and what should I care? when I sing I forget ay, if my sorrow could do the same with me this talk is short and what should I care? My heart should not think I'll do what he tells me to if it wants bigger sorrows may it get them on it's own but I won't do what he tells me to There's always a path left where the sorrows won't follow and some talks inside oneself which go making them foreign but there's always some sorrow left Short talk and what should I care? when I sing I forget ay, if my sorrow could do the same with me this talk is short and what should I care?

The heaven chapter (4 of 6)

She was an angel. I was a dispersive shithead. So full of plans. But so stupid I couldn’t even see when it hit me. I traced so many trajectories to get somewhere and life pushed me down a hill. They say those looking at the moon usually trip over small branches. I tripped on love.

Suddenly I had everything I needed, wanted and was searching for – and I didn’t know what to do with that.

She was beautiful. She accepted my failures and incapacities. In a long hug she repeated “I like you so much”. She insisted my disgusting belly was soft and good to lie on. Cozy. Something grew among us. A Morning Star. Feeding on our good intentions.

We left a friend’s house to talk on the sidewalk. Sat watching the cars passing. Smoking cigarettes. We had to talk. I said:

“I’ve been thinking a lot. I’ve reached some conclusions. Maybe it would be cuter to tell you this some other time, but I want it to be now. With no sentimentalisms. No frenzy. So you know I’m certain of it, and not just throwing words around. That’s it.... I love you.

“I wish I could say the same, but I don’t know...”

“I don’t want you to repeat me. I just wanted you to know”

It was better like this. She only said it when she was sure. I was sure too. Any angel up in heaven could testify for us – we loved each other and I regret nothing.

But she had to decide. She could have any man she wanted. She had the man every woman was fighting for, and still she chose for me. She called me, crying: “I want to be with you... You’re the one I want by my side...” And the day was shinning like diamonds. Golden butterflies coming out of my pillow. But it didn’t last long.

She chose me, but the other one wouldn’t take defeat so easily. He pulled with everything he had. There was tension. Something must break. He had lost, but he was too proud. I think he never lost anything in his rich kid’s spoiled life. He pulled so hard and she was so weak.. She was so beautiful to me. I could pull too. He would loose, but he wouldn’t let go. And everything falling over her – a dream to me. I can’t see an angel crying for long. Not if I can help it. Not because of me.

In that old story, the real mother gives up on the child, so he won’t be split in half.

I left. Vomiting pieces of my heart out of my nose. Crying. Months feeding on alcohol. Closed windows. Two hundred cigarettes. Nights pregnant of death.

Today I’m fearless. Nothing can hurt like that. And that’s over me. It still hurts, but it’s different. It’s over.

Today I hope she’s alright, and that she won’t get too sad when she thinks about me.

The earth chapter (3 of 6)

She came from out of nowhere. A couple of years trying to change. A couple of years look like a long time when you’re trying to go to bed a better man than you got up in the morning. It’s tiresome and frustrating and I was wondering if she would ever come. And there she was, out of nowhere. After a hard day at work, I sat for a few beers. Friends arrived and more people arrived and I blinked and the bar was full and I blinked my eyes again and she was there, sitting by my side on the next table – though I didn’t even know it was her.

I was a shithead, but a greater shithead arrived. An alpha shithead, or something. He was trying to hit on her. The bar was crowded and, as she was right beside me, on the other table, the motherfucker sat on the arm of my chair. Almost on my lap. He was one of my friend’s cousin, so I couldn’t just slap him away. I thought of alternatives. If I couldn’t deal straight with him, I’d have to talk to her.

“Look, this guy’s sitting almost on my lap, just to talk to you. Why won’t you invite him to your table? You have a free chair...”

“I’ll wine and dine you, baby”, the motherfucker interrupted me. “I know how to treat my women... I put my women on a pedestal!”

“You see it?” Asked her sister. “That’s why we won’t invite him to our table. I’m sorry if he’s on your lap, but this guy is a fucking encyclopedia of stupid lines. And he’s a pocket encyclopedia, on top of it. He repeated the same lines twenty times already. My sister is not this type of girl, you see? My sister can even speak German!”

“Can you speak German?” I asked the girl who kept smiling in silence. At her face, an expression of sarcasm so cute it got me. She said:

“I can only speak a little bit”

“So speak to me”

“Ah, I can’t think of anything to say”

“Anything...”

“Anything!”

“Shit, but in German!”

“Ah...”

I insisted. Out of curiosity. I wanted to see a pretty girl saying things in German. It would be funny. I insisted till she gave up. She said she didn’t understand me. That was so amazing. I can’t understand me myself.

“I can’t understand me myself” I said. She almost spat her beer. Didn’t expect me to understand her northern words. I, myself, didn’t expect to understand shit. The world is a strange place. I get surprised often.

I n a few minutes the alpha shithead was isolated in a bubble. Still on my chair’s arm, though. Throwing stupid lines from time to time. The sisters whispered something between themselves. Next, to my ear:

“We’d like to invite you to our table”

I offered my seat to the alpha shithead and installed myself at the other table. I was a shithead, but she looked at me with such a caress I left that table imagining a princess could actually love an ugly toad.

And later we talked and talked and exchanged countless emails and we kissed and she planted the first love seed within me. A real love, beyond bedroom fantasies. The love I was searching for and just couldn’t find in most people around me.

She pushed the mountains away and summoned threes with flowers. I had the glimpse of my path to follow.

the twilight of love had arrived

Red Hot Chilli Peppers - Breaking the Girl

The fire chapter (2 of 6)

She came through magnetic waves and modern technology. Telephone. Lights. Internet. She came after a long, long wait.

And she said: “Hi, where are you typing from?” because it was fashionable to do so, in those days. A much more innocent time, for all of us. A time to believe. Time for ignoring so many things.

I made songs for her. Wrote poems for her.

I was still a shithead.

“I think of you as a friend”, she said. This line pretty much defines it all. Unbelievable. Not only by the evidence of my failure, but also by the insistence in this concept: friendship.

I don’t really have the patience to tell it all again. I have earlier books, you see, and I wrote a lot about this girl already. It would be useful to repeat it, but I won’t.

A platonic love – it should be enough to say – and a best friend. He could have made it all right. I gave him all the chances. I told him: “Go for her. She wants you, not me. I don’t care. It’s ok” He could have just done it all clean. But I guess it wasn’t fun enough. He told me: “No, no, no... You’re my best friend. I don’t like her, anyway...” He had to lie, I don’t know why. He didn’t like her, really. But stabbing people in the back seems too attractive to some. He just had to do it.

Today, all of this sounds silly and childish to me. I can’t feel nothing at all about this anymore. She is my friend, today. We talk a lot. He’s ok with me too. Not a friend, FRIEND, but ok. I don’t know if I’ll ever have a friend like the ones I had in my childhood anymore. I can’t trust him. I can’t trust people. He showed me people will lie no matter what. I feel nothing at all about this today, but guess I’m the only one who realizes all the other things I can’t feel because of that.

I can’t feel towards my friends what I felt as a child anymore. He was the last one. That unconditional trust you have till you discover friends are just a bunch of other people. That connection I imagined, it only existed in me and in the movies I watched. It’s a harsh truth.

They say the astronauts come back a little bit crazy. That they cannot behave normally anymore, after realizing everything they ever knew is no more than dust over a small ball floating in space. They cannot feel the same any longer.

I hope no extraordinary situation turns your best friends into enemies in your mind. I contract my muscles, as I sleep, and my back hurts – for years.

But, apart from that, guess it was all silly and childish. Just that.

If they can’t kill me, they’ll make me stronger - or at least stranger.

Besides, she was really beautiful, and confused and adorable. I feel justified. I’d spill my blood for her. After washing my eyes and seeing things as they truly were, this was my very first lesson about them.

I was a shithead. What should I expect? For her to like me?

The water chapter (1 of 6)

She came from a great leap in time. She came from many years ago. Foolish running around in the garden and children games with our parents watching. Scary stories in dark rooms. Hide and seek. She came by the afternoon with no warning whatsoever. After years, important growing years, away from my eyes. Almost completely forgotten.

“Hey, son. Guess who’s here today?” I crossed the kitchen’s door unable to expect much. I was wrong. From the verandah, she smiled at me. And no childhood Christmas had ever brought me such a sweet surprise.

She was about four years younger than me. A huge difference back in the days. Now (or at that point) we were both teenagers. And she was beautiful. So beautiful, up to this day I haven’t yet been able to describe how. I’ve tried, many times. Words step back in humiliation every time she comes. My glasses would get steamed. She talked to me as if we were the same ones jumping narrow water streams. Laughing by the swimming pool. I could barely keep any coherence in my answers. Fascinated by every little gesture she made.

The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seem was the very first thing I saw through the mud of the world and the paint with which they had painted my senses. My very first reality flash. My earliest view of things as they truly are – frozen in silence and of unspeakable beauty. She washed my eyes, and my ears, and my skin and everything - and for a moment, through her, I could see it.

You look into the abyss (they say) and the abyss looks back at you. It went like this: “Who are you?” the moment asked me. Words burned at the back of my head. “Who are you?”

A shithead. I was a shithead. During a few years she had become that amazing girl I was looking at and listening to. I had eaten a lot, smoked a lot of cigarettes and drunken bottles empty. I’d spoken thousands of kilometers of bullshit and had had tons of irresponsible fun with my friends. I was locked inside my room, the rest of the time, reading towers of books nobody else cared about. Listening to recordings nobody likes anymore. And that’s it. Nothing else. Building a fantasy with no grounds in reality. Just preparing myself for something I had no idea even existed. Guess I was just running away. Unconcerned and stupid, lazily floating over the quicksand I was.

“Who are you?” Words burned like her image all over the house. I got inside the empty room where she had been just a few hours ago, before she left. Ghosts of beauty crossing over. Ready to strike me at each new step I threw around. The room without her, so sad.

“And who are you, shithead?”

It was the first time I thought about being someone.

For her. Just for her, and for nothing else.

But I was a shithead.

what matters most is how well you walk through the fire

i was visiting some friends in madrid
eight hours in a bus from my home in barcelona
these last years i've lived in leiden, nieuwegein and montpellier
i don't know where home lies anymore
i lived in the same city for as long as i could remember
i had a comfortable life
and security
and the chains that come with it
so i never really thought home would be any other place
but i've had many homes now
too many chains are broken
and i don't know

like heihachi did to kazuya i threw myself down an abyss
trusting i'd be a better man once i had climbed my way back

i threw myself down an abyss and of course i feel
lost

everything has changed
i erased myself for what i was wouldn't work
what i used to be had too many parts made out of television
prejudices
habits
reflexes
and so on
the world draws a line in front of you, as you're born somewhere
and though you can paint yourself in colors
the line is there
and you follow it

i've been throwing myself down in so many abysses
trying to erase myself
and start again
i have no reference points any longer
though my body remains and smiles
and goes to the kitchen and to the bathroom and to bed
i'm in this weird place without a flashlight

so many times
when there was only one home and one line and one way
i had everybody against me
and it never shook me
for i was sure

how can i still be sure about anything?
people point at me and i stop to look at it
i feel insecure
and as castles burn
and people point
i was afraid i could also be on fire

but i was visiting some friends in madrid
and they were comfortable around me
and deep down from my abyss i sense i still could help them
and i made sushi for the first time and it was tasty

food can tell

i must be ok

taste the whip (in love not given lightly)

Velvet Underground - Venus In Furs