sign

It is more than waiting that something happens.
It is like expecting.

It is essential, absolutely necessary. It keeps your whole attention. You need a sign.

A sign from the other side.

Something that makes you see that you are not waiting in vain.

Because you'll finally have that word, that clue that you need to go on.

It is like when you wait to see the first leaf in every tree, at the beginning of the spring.

Charme

"For the Old World, even until the eve of the national modern state, the power to read meant in fact something as the belonging to an elite that smelt like mystery; the grammatical knowledge was considered to be as the nucleus of the magic: in effect, already in the medieval English, from the word grammar comes the glamour, to those who can read and write, some impossibles will turn out to be easy. "

Peter Sloterdijk

*sometimes magic happens and a terrible day becomes a good one.

* a horse becomes a mouse.

* a fancy coach becomes a pumpkin (a smashing one).

* a prince becomes a frog.

flies

por si las moscas...

home

It is like:

Your first thought when you wake up and the last one before you go to sleep.

That words that you need to read or you will not be able to breathe.

That part that you know that will always be good for you, instead of the Universe is collapsing.

Your place in the world (and it is not about land)

jungle

For everybody the light. For everybody everything .

For us the pain and the distress

for us the happy rebelliousness,

for us the denied future

for us the rebellious dignity.

For us nothing

frozen

There is a little black spot in the sun today

*It is really cold here, today
** the sun must be freezing

siesta

During the earliest hours of the afternoon,

two kids run away from their house and go to the forest for climbing trees.

Two lovers meet in the river for swimming naked for the first time (probably for their last time too).

Meanwhile all the others are sleeping and they dream that a boy and girl, under the trees and beside the river, are playing in the nets of love.

east

The night is coming from the east.

I can smell it from here.

It is over the Atlantic Ocean right now.

It is like a vampire crossing the sea in his ship.

In a little while the night -or maybe the vampire (why not?)- will cover all my sky, with a dark blanket.

persistence

I want to be so light as a flying piano and so heavy as the music inside someone's head

run

If I die you'll forget me very soon. You'll start a new relationship pretty soon, with that nice guy with green eyes*

*I would like to write something, but I won't. I'm a tragic danger today (so tragic, so tragic as usual)

phantasmagoric

I shall rule you with a fear*

* That line is perfect¨

**I think that I can understand baudelaire's feeling

casablanca

If you don't take that plane, you'll regret it. Not today, not tomorrow, but you'll regret it...*

*the best part about taking phrases of the films it is that you can use them in situations absolutely different than the scenes.

lights*

Cause a heart that hurts

is a heart that works

*bright.
** good new song. It sounds great.

bridges

I draw bridges for you to find me:
A bridge of clothes, with my water-colors...
A suspension bridge, with brilliant chalk...
Bridges of wood, with pencil of wax...
Lifting bridges, silver, coppery...
Unbreakable Bridges, of stone, invisible...
And You ... who could believe it! You do not see them even!
I do hundred, ten, one .. you do not cross anyone!
But ... as I love you ... I draw and wait.
Beautiful, beautiful bridges for you to find me! *

*I read this poem for the first time when I was seven years old. It is from a book named: "The book of the children in love". It impressed me a lot when I was a little girl. Since that day, I didn't stop drawing bridges.

touch

But oh these hours
I lost my place
I'm never lost
There's just one way

cure

"Whatever words I say

I will always."

Some nights when I come back home I have to take a walk for the cementery (how tragic!). It is not my choice, it is just that the bus takes that road. In one of the outside walls of the cementery it is written this:

"Love song, it is the only thing that makes me feel good "

*When I look that, I smile just to think how ironic and poetic is that a sentence like that it is written in that place. Maybe the dead can listen that song and remember that one day they were alive and in love.

reason

"When West, a long time ago, discovered the love, gave it enough price to turn acceptable the death; today, the sex claims this equivalence, the most raised of all. "

Michel Foucault

*there is a always a reason to die for.

** Love or sex. And the winner is......................... a butterfly

faith

I have forgotten how to pray and probably God wouldn't be happy to listen someone like me trying to talk to him.
Anyway, I lighted this candle for you, between some of my favourites things... to make your wish comes true.**

*It keeps burning, kitten.
**Wish you the best.

statistics

If I do a logic analysis (my favourite, of course) I can say that I only use the 20% of my brain during the day.

During all that day, I spend the 80% of it thinking (I can think fool things the most of the time, but it is another way of thinking).

Of all those things that I think and that have any connection with this blog, I only dare to publish a 10 or 15 % of them.

It means that exists a 90 or 85% of ideas that keep unpublished.*

*I should probably have to start another blog to publish all those things unsaid, and start another one to publish all the things that I don't dare to publish in the second one, and start another blog to...

contest

Between a butterfly and a firefly, who is the winner?

*stupid questions are my favourite ones

toxic

*no explanations required

madness

To miss things that never happened in a well known place, with someone unknown *

*virtual insanity must be something like that

chain

" Still I can't escape the ghost of you"

escape

"Yeah, everybody leaves

If they get the chance"

*and this is my chance

party

Everybody celebrates what they can

*watch more tv

boiler

Puede alguien decirme? Me voy a comer tu dolor!
Y repetirme - voy a salvarte esta noche!

Que el infierno está encantador
este infierno está embriagador!
Esta noche está encantador!
tu infierno está encantador, esta noche!

air

Where ya going with that mask I found? *

*English is the mask that I found to say some things (another things will never be said, not even in English... never) that I don´t dare to say in my language. When I write in English, it is like if it is not totally me. Words sound different, they don't compromise me at all. If I said all this in Spanish I would probably feel naked. I wouldn't be able to breathe. That is why I use this mask, to hide myself... from me

wound

Je suis la plaie et le couteau!

Charles Baudelaire

* "I must justify what hurts me. I am the poet." Jorge Luis Borges

blood

And she was a spot of ink in the finger.

That ink that comes from a fountain pen while you are writing.

That ink that is so blue as the blue blood that runs through the veins.

Dirty blood without oxygen, dirty writing, dirty ideas in the mind (a mind without oxygen).

She was blue ink, so washable. You only need water to get rid of her. You don't need to make any extra effort.

She disappears of your fingers, without leaving any trace.*

*so but so but so literal

vocation

The writer did that job because just couldn't do anything else. To stop writing was impossible.

It was not a thing about desire, it was a duty, a painful duty.

Writing was the only way to clean the soul of so many demons.

"To do something because you have to, so simple and terrible like that", used to the writer say.

But what it was hard to understand was the reason why the reader was there. He could choose something that the writer couldn´t. He could close his eyes or simply go and not reading anymore. But he didn't do that.

The writer knew that not even getting inside the reader's mind (an impossible thing, by the way) could be able to understand the reader's deepest thoughts.

giordano

designed in Italy
model: 1982
full
few kilometers of use
airbags included
besides, apparently he writes.

*I swear that I can't stop laughing.

**I'm a cynic, I have no doubts at all

silence

Always the best things are the unspoken ones.

*owner of a simple, but not less tragic silence.

virus

A whirlpool mixes
the kisses and the absence.
Pagan images
will undress in dreams.

bird

"The sadness does not turn someone intelligent. In the sadness we are lost. That is why the power needs that the subjects be sad. The distress has never been a game of culture, of intelligence or of vivacity. When you have a sad affection, it is that a body acts on yours, a soul acts on yours in such conditions and under a relation that is not convenient with yours. Since then nothing in the sadness can induce to you to form the common notion, it means, the idea of something common between two bodies and two souls "

Gilles Deleuze

One day he opened the window of his appartment in Paris, and jumped. He just left himself go.

vision

I'm not the problem, but it seems that the reality has serious troubles with me and try to see me upside down.

fill

I ........ ahead

I'm sure I ...... you there

You don't need me to .......... you now

that nothing can ...........

*absolutely nothing

three

"The public hospitals, which as institution originates in the middle age, were called in France Hôtels-Dieu. They were places where roof and assistance were given in the God's name to the patients or to the moribund ones.
But be careful with idealizing this. During the pest, el Hôtel-Dieu of Paris was so full of people that "three persons were occupying every bed: a patient, a dying person and another one dead"."

John Berger

always

That night she dreamt that was dreaming that was dreaming that was dreaming that was dreaming that ...

In one of these multiple dreams she woke up and saw him sitting at the edge of her bed.

She felt confused with his presence and then she asked: "Inside of which of my dreams are you?"

He smiled and answered: "It is not relevant. I'm not inside one of your dreams, I live inside your head. I'm finally that spot of oil that spreads without limits. If you wanna get me out of your head, you'll have to blow up your mind."*

*he was not just right.

**he was more than right.

check

I do not need a reader. I need a chess mate.

conduct

"The child always breaks his toys"*

*In this specific case, the word "child" can be replaced by the word "cat"

**this is a random picture. I have no responsability for it.

condemnation

"I will be able to go to the hell, but a God like this will never have my respect."

Milton

unconcience

He couldn't stop looking at the girl. He had lost his memory after having a car crash and he couldn't remember anything about his past. He didn't even know his name or who he was.

In spite of this, the only important thing was that he couldn't take his eyes out of the girl. He felt that he knew her from before, he was sure that they had been lovers.

Or probably they were two souls who had been together in a past life.*

*he was wrong.

concience

-You are a present for me. I don't believe that I have done anything good to deserve you, he said to her.*

- ...

*he was right.

work

We are working for you, to make this blog better.

Don't desperate. It will be ready as soon as possible*

* you would have to wait sitting for not getting tired...

invasion

To be like a spot of oil in a shirt, that every time spreads more. It is impossible to remove it.
An alone drop that penetrates even the deepest thing and stays there for ever, even touching your body. In contact with your skin.
You would have to consider that the only way of getting rid of the spot is throwing the shirt to the trash can.*

*(so so so so metaphoric)

choice

"I am all the days

that you choose to ignore"*

*when you are ...

diary

Ok, now that nobody reads this blog, I can use it to make terrible confessions about myself and my deepest feelings...

I can be absolutely mad, but I'm not so stupid (yet).

I'll never write here about that.

Dream on.

compass

I always knew where the north was.
It is just that I have been trying to avoid it

giving

Some day you will understand that my writing is not any more than the way that I have to give response to the constant question formulated by your silence

request

"Dearest Max, my last request: Everything I leave behind me ... in the way of diaries, manuscripts, letters (my own and others'), sketches, and so on, [is] to be burned unread."

Kafka's writing attracted little attention until after his death. (Definitely he was out of his time)

lack

I don't need a reader. I need a surrender.

more

just that

philosophy

"The dreams are the way of metaphysician thinking of the primitive ones"

Ortega y Gasset

*everyday I feel more like a paleolithic girl

samsa

and then I wonder: What are we turning into?

conversations

Because only the human beings who bring themselves into game can communicate between them

Probably, just probably to read Georges Bataille is not making me any favor

box

"This is a little space where I try to put all the things that don't fit in the world"*

*I should have to try to put myself in it, but maybe I don't even fit here. (always so tragic, so tragic so tragic, but maybe even a little more)

ambition

I am creating a new language.

For instance this a sentence in my language: #jsam'ñ cocutu bfragnow kurum#

Nobody can understand what I mean because any language is a convention. I need someone else to talk to or my language will be just another act of my dangerous mind.

But in fact, I'm not interested in talking with anyone, I'm just trying to find the way to build a new tower of Babel to reach the sky.

If no one tries to talk to me during the construction of the tower, there will never be a misunderstanding and the tower won't fall.

That's all I want. To get to the sky just to put my head over the clouds and see if there is a God that really lives there.

julio

Hey, you.

You, that are reading right now

Why are you here?

What do you want?

Am I spying you from this broken wall or are you spying me from your screen?

I can suspect what you are thinking now

Do you have any idea about what do I have in mind?

clepsidra

If you lose a minute counted by a water-clock, what could it happen? Do you think that you can get drown?

If I were in an ocean of hours, I shouldn't be able to swim.

I am thinking that I am sinking.

song

"You used to be alright
What happened?

Did the cat get your tongue?"...

Two

Let's play a game.

Let's play that I take you a picture while you take me a picture in the exactly moment that I'm taking a picture to you. Meanwhile someone else takes a picture to us.

Perspective

One day you find out that someone who was essential in your life is not important at all. It takes time to get to this situation -maybe years, maybe days- it depends on each one, but nothing can be more subjective that the idea of time for human beings.
A single day can be longer than ten light years.

The point is that when you see the things with perspective you discover that somebody who is the most important person in your life today, in ten years can be just an insect, a lost memory in the middle of an earthquake.

This is the first day of the rest of a life as an ant.

Anyway, to be an ant can be wonderful.

Side

West
Occident
Sunset
Dawn
Falling
Hell

Welcome to the Hell

I was waiting...

Cinema

It is like when you are in the cinema and you take a look to your wrist watch and you realises that in five minutes the movie will finish (because we all who like the cinema, know the convention that explains that any film has a lenght, so we know that it can't last forever). And we know that in those five minutes all the situations of the movie must be solved, to get to the end.

These are the last 5 minutes. At least that life has become an alternative, cheap, B-movie or that the director of everything be Stanley Kubrick.

Poker

Someone could bet the skin, another one could bet the bones. There is nothing to win. Everybody lose

Lucky

In spite of the time, you are still being the password of everything.

How would it feel to know that just with a finger on a keyboard, it is possible to hack this world?

Silence

Scientific researches have shown that if a human being does not eat, will died. So there is no doubt that the mouth was made for eating.
Scientific researches also proved that if human beings do not have sex, the specie does not reproduce and finally disappear. So there is no doubt that the mouth was made for kissing.
But there is no scientific research that has proved that the mouth was made for talking. If a human being does not talk during his entire life, will not die for this reason.

Agnostic

The random does not exist.

God does not play dice with the universe

How many coincidences are needed to start to believe that something weird is happening here? (so tragic and semiotic. I should have to play violin, too... strings are killing me)