Winter has come,
              and with it,
the scarfs, the snow, the dark cold nights, the fog and the long coats,

and then, suddenly, i find where i forgot your heart.

it's been always there.
hidden (from me) and unreachable  in a winter's coat pocket.

al fin él se decidió por un regalo, era Silvestre y se sentía en la obligación de hacerlo; se presentó con una bonita caja, de cartón, recubierta de tela color crema y lazo negro.

- La he hecho yo, ¿te gusta?, vamos, ábrela y mira que hay dentro.

Ella se acercó a la caja,  sin hablar ni dando a entender que había escuchado algo, con su andar flotante y su larga falda, como un suspiro, sin ser nada más que una imagen recurrente producida por el opio. Delante de la caja, a su lado, cerca de él. Pasaron lo que pudieron ser horas o quizás sólo unos segundos los dos mirándose fijamente y él asintiendo, hasta que Ella decidió acercar su manos, sus dedos largos y blancos, al lazo.
Un pañuelo de seda cuidadosamente doblado escondía algo, un espejo de mano; empuñadura de plata y un grabado recorrían su contorno.
Ella, sin entender demasiado qué hacer con aquel objeto volvió su mirada para encontrar una respuesta en unos ojos apasionados, vivos, no abrió la boca, sus labios permanecieron cerrados.

- Anda, mírate, observa tu reflejo, así te verás como yo te veo. Así sabrás quién eres realmente.

i go out the shower wearing my new and black bathrobe; she is reading quietly in the living room, there is an old Death In June record playing. she looks so beatiful sitting, almost lying in the sofa, with half my pyjamas  and her new librarian glasses.

i am approaching just to kiss her and check what she is reading, some Russian author from the 19th cent., what an incredible picture.

so why am i thinking about her?
and not just HER.
i think about THEM, my ghosts, my cats -as she calls them with a sexy bitter jealous whispering-, my past.


some days are worse than others.

those days usually are Sundays,

aye!

today be th'day!
enjoy your Talk Like a Pirate Day!

cheers from london

i do want to be like Rainer Maria Rilke.

i just come from breaking up with her for 11th time.

i can't deny this has some kind of theatrical beauty, this time she has been standing there until i disappeared walking, far, so far, wanting for me to turn back of for her to shout my name so deeply; she had to bite her lips to not do it.
we won't meet again.

i know who is jeremy bentham.

i was a prisioner in your skull

"Testing...one, two, three. Well...well fuck, I mean; I just don't know what to say. I'm very glad to be here with you tonight, I'll be able to talk to you about some things...that I know a great deal about. Everyone knows that you are fucked up. And everyone knows that I am fucked up. But, does everyone know that you are more fucked up than me? Well, I know that. And you know that. But our purpose is to tell everyone that. Take for instance, the time you went to the bathroom, to take a shower. You had some soap, a towel, shampoo, washcloth, a brush, everything was set. But you had to call me to come turn on the water for you. You didn't know where or how. That is one instance of how fucked up you are. A second instance of how fucked up your are: You was going to cook you some breakfast. Well you went in there, and put some toast in the toaster, put a skillet on the stove, put some grease in it. You got you some eggs out, some bacon. Poured you some orange juice and some coffee. Got some jelly and some butter. Fried eggs, salt, pepper, got some bacon on the grill. Everything was fine - except for one thing. You had to call in there...to show you how to use a fork. Now a third instance; the way you're fucked up. You got dressed, ready to go to school. Everything was fine - got outside, got in your car. Key in the ignition. Except for one thing. You had to call me to come show you."

so, as you know, being a total sociopath and a disfunctional member of the royal humanity i must choose the role patterns for living in society from somewhere; books, movies, advertisments, whatever.
having that lack of personality is not that bad when you have access to the internet and therefore, to the mainstream culture, then you can appear to be a regular guy or even a cool one.
...anyway, right now i've copied and based my life in a tv serie i've just discovered. it's called Flight of the Conchords and you must check it.

yay! she's coming!

well,
maybe you ask yourselves how is a regular day in my life.
maybe not.
ok. probably not.
ok. you don't...


...anyway, i'm going to explain it you like it or not.
come on, just skip reading, yes, like that, no more reading, it doesn't matter, it's just bullshit.

this week it's being kinda amazing, on sunday i saw a "david-lynch"y concert with pluramon and fovea hex which was as you can expect, quite nice, and then, i wrote the review for some music magazines and next day work. yes, quite normal, and yes, that's wearing my trousers, concert in the evening, review in the morning, check my university status, try to matriculate in some new subjects, fail in it, try to write some new pages for the comic book, rewrite them again...
...and also some strange stories of my so called life.

yesterday i was skyping with a girl from planet Vega i met few weeks ago and one thing to another the topics brought us to the "so-called-love"...
i really like to be in love, it makes me feel alive, somehow, you know, i'm a romantic hobo, i love that kind of stuff, dawns in the sea, flowers without a reason, putting stupid adjectives as "sweet piece of cake with sugar and honey all over, plus mermelade, never forget the mermelade, and possible some nutella, of my heart", hugging softly, taking care, and all that sweet stuff i will deny if you ask me.
(you know, i like METAL, i'm a cold doomster)



but she doesn't like that feeling, the "butterflies", well, maybe it's her condition, being from planet Vega doesn't allow her to eat insects, and, therefore, to have butterflies in the stomach... (planet Vega is quite strange, they also have purple tentacles ruling their world, their trees grown upside down, the ground is three feet above the floor, and everything is in 3-D, even words -which makes conversations much more intense-).

so, as i said, i like it, i feel alive, connected again with reality, it's like fear, or sledging in Austria knowing for sure that "oh-god-i'm-going-to-die-fuck-where-is-the-brake?".
it is also an excuse to listen bands as Lampshade, to shave everyday, to walk down the rain smiling or to act like an stupid with some kind of reason.


...anyway, maybe that's also love, butterflies.
if you see it with enough distance, you think it's really beautiful, with lots of colors and surrounded by flowers. Something which flies softly, warmly, something delicate, something that you would like to take care of it and to keep close to you. But then, when it's so close you discover that it looks like some kind of alien from outer space (he aquí un pleonasmo redundante, señores), probably more powerful than you or whatever you had seen before (even if you have read lovecraft - so maybe it has tentacles too-), something strange, incromprehensible which is just here to conquer and destroy you and your world or  it is just another really ugly bug with an strange tongue and frightening eyes which was once a worm...



happy happy pre-st. valentine's day and i hope you celebrate the day of the zombie pride the last 4th of february, and be prepared because tomorrow is the DOOM'S DAY, or, at least, is the day of my final exam (so i should be studying and not updating, i know...)

we love sigur rós...

...and he is Easy,


so, yes, he leave us.
for a while, or maybe longer.
we are going to miss him -no puede ser, no puede ser, no puede ser-
because he wants a piece of freedom though he is "buena persona y libre como la mierda"

 

 

so, well.
that was yesterday night.


(yes, the "symbol" which is supposed to be me looks like a Kanji -kanji? no, it's not well written-, yes, i need the free hand program.)

...as everyone would know right now, i'm supposed to be a pirate, ain't me? aye!

(Ahoy, c'mon scurvy dogs, let's find that booty, gar! )


so, well. As a pirate, i am also cursed -because every pirate has his curse, his parrot (or monkey -monkeys are funny-), his cool dreads, and his (most probably empty bottle of ) grog or rum-; which means that, yes, i'm... doomed!

and what would be my doomed curse? -would you probably not ask to yourselfs-

well, it's easy, my curse is to meet really nice and pretty foreign girls.
yes. that's my curse.

so, i dunno what's happening, but it looks like everything is starting to calm down.
i feel... yeah, i feel like most of the things in my life are ok, not right! of course, because i'm selling capitalist poison to the minds of the citizens but... quite ok. yes.

anyway...

do you know whats the Fibonacci Spiral?


so you may think it's some kind of nice drawing, don't you? well... it actually IS, but it's also this.

and well, do you know Tool?

yes, indeed, the band.

so...
let's mix it!:


and well, yesterday i acted like a teenager and it was funny...
and good news, at least, and yipeee, i have a flat in berlin for the whole winter if i want to go there (but probably it won't be a good idea)

so, ok, it's official, i "suffer" from insomnia.

but i don't know if i should call it suffering, i mean, ok, i don't really look like a human being these days but, hey! i've walked a lot, and the sea by the night rocks a lot.


other good thing about the insomnia is that i created my own lastfm thingie -actually, i didn't create it "now" i was registred in 2005 but it wasn't until past thursday that i started to use it-, and it really rocks, it's so cool and i've realized that there are lots of good concerts... (the 12th of October in Milan, for example...)

and i have a new theory about weed smokers and stoner and stoner doom... i'll post something about this amazing and incredible discoverment of mine ( ... ) if i get some photos from the inside of my Boris - Pink cd (and yes, Mónica, i'm asking for help)