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.