faraway*

"a writer is a foreign country"
— Marguerite Duras

*faraday

musique

Albarn released Mali Music in 2002, recorded in Mali. He has also visited Nigeria to record music with African drummer Tony Allen. Albarn says he would like to produce a Blur album in Baghdad as he "likes the Iraqi style of music".*

*this explains so many things

globalization

there is a bench in the middle (or maybe at the left) of a class that it is inside of an university -of one of the many universities of a huge city- where a girl wrote an "exotic name" (not a local one, not even a national one).

that name remains there in that bench probably for ever at least that she decides to delete it someday or that one of her trostkist mates sticks any stuff about the eternal revolution over it.

an exotic name in the middle of an academic situation*

*coolisimo

**the entire world is inside a pocket

comPOSER

and if you've got the time
and you dont mind
let me kiss you *

*by morrissey at "live at earls court"

danger

the problem with someone who doesnt believe in possessions is that is absolutely able to be in love with someone without even touch or kiss or reach that someone*

*nothing can be weirdest than the strange case to be chained in spite of not believing in chains

swords

then i could say:

i'm going to like for ever your fat espirit

or

i'm gonna always like your bald soul

but probably this is not what you are waiting from me to say

maybe you wanna hear another words*

*morrissey said: you are the one for me, fatty

poser

*if we add the drum's stuffs, he reminds me so much someone i know

**another tragic tongue (?)

pray

and tonight i remembered that when i was a little girl, Mother taught me this prayer to say before going to sleep:

Holy guardian angel, my sweet companion,
Do not forsake me during the night or during the day
Until I rest in the arms of Jesus, Joseph and Mary. *

Amen.

*you are my angel, come and save me tonight... (but finally the devil brought me the rock and roll and i turned into a bad girl. how how tragic and probably a little satanic)

enough

so simple as posting this photo just because i like it so much*

*that's all
**that is more than enough for me

kundera

"I write for the pleasure of contradicting and the happiness of being alone against everybody."

orgía

this is not the best way to spend a friday's night *

* not crápula at all
** just an orgy of knowledge (?)
*** where is the nudity?
**** intellectual people suck
***** friday: life has killed me
****** the lesson was so but so entertaining
******* if you are so entertaining, then why are you on your own tonight?

delon

*the queen may be dead but he is definitely alive

heavenly

take me anywhere

idontcaredontcaredontcare*

*

influenza

you walk around someone without making any sound -like if you were the air-

you are trying to get closer without touching

you are trying to listen the influences to understand the reasons of a play or a song

it is like saying: "if you were a drunk, i should be a drunk too just to understand what there is inside your head"*

*and one day you see that we have all made the same road

**try walking in my shoes, you'll stumble in my footsteps

ask

ok ok ok ok

but ¿what do you prefer: a tunnel or a bridge?*

*i DO have a reverse question mark, so lucky me (?)

mustBeOne

wilderish

* a well read boy, so lost between his stuffs (how tragic, so so tragic)

clavo

= and it is like a nail that has been sticking in your heart...
slowly, but in a persistent and obstinate way, as the fine rain that seems to be imperceptible but wets you completely.
and as the seasons pass, this nail embeds itself more and more
and the pain that it causes sometimes is sweet but you know that it is pain anyway.

inevitale, inconceivably... it would be better to finish with it
but then you understand that in case of extracting this nail of your heart nothing serious would happen, simply your life would go away with it.
it is something like this, but maybe a little different

just a little*

*fuckinailing

weirderish

but fly, butter fly*

*silly games with words, this is getting even worst day by day... oh my goat!

wording

i need to know inmediately:
how much time does it take to the butter for turning into a butterfly? *

*if i throw butter to the ceiling, will its wings appear inmeadiately and will it start to fly in that moment?

hitchhike

someone must come to take out this book from my hands.

i just cant stop reading it

i could cross the country just eating apple pie and ice-cream*

*in fact i could spend my entire life just eating ice-cream (and chocolate cake)

sketch

PARIS PARK

sitting in a little park in Place Paul Painlavé

-a curving row of beautiful rosy tulips rigid

and swaying, fat shaggy sparrows, beautiful

shorthaired mademoiselles (one slid. never be

alone at night in Paris, boy or girl, but I'm

an evil old man & world hater who will

become the greatest writer who ever lived)
*

*the pleasure- the privilege (funny-tragic, ha?)

mirror

at a certain age everyone has the face that deserves

it is something so simple as this:

"Your face is as mean
As your life has been"*

*but nobody could say it in a more poetic mood

peace

Octavio Paz started his poem: The bridge with these words:


Between now and now,
between I am and you are,
the word bridge.

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