Writing is not cathartic, even though its feeling of release is present; it is not enlightening, however, it provokes critical thinking; it is not, above all, entertaining, nonetheless it transports you. I write in order to rationalize interiority, to catch emic experiences with a net. Everything, however, revolves and remains inside.

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Alter Ego I

What if I don’t have anything to give, Bitch?
Who told you that I once had potential and lost it all?
Do you think I like feeling worthless, and if I did would it make it better for you and your logic?
People get what they deserve, according to lucky cookie over here.
Attitude in life is everything, because you've had a rough life too
And could have turned so much worse
And didn’t because you had friends who loved you. Because you coped.
Not even dreaming disgrace
would make you come close to
Understanding what a rough life is.
You wanna experience the world? You think you know shit? You know nothing. The fact that you can choose sets you apart, but that's the way it’s been laid out for you. Go home, stay in shittyville. Don’t take that plane, you’ll never get pain no matter how much you get to know.
You think reality is pain?
Try to be happy.
Peaceful, just, coherent with yourself.
Be conscientious.
But oh no. Mister middle America thinks he hasn’t experienced enough in life, he wants to know what the real world’s like. Drama is the way of little big boy over here.
Well, that’s great, sugar, let’s all hope we can grow up to be enlightened like you.
Go puke somewhere and be a jerk about it.
It’s liberating to risk your life on purpose.
Because at the end of the day, you’re not living.
You are watching, watching, watching.
You are making me sick.
One day, one day
I’ll kill some of you and I’ll cry about it,
Because I will have lost the thing I had left
For the simple pleasure of doing away with nothing.

A house cannot have more than two or three stories.

(__) wrote the words I build stories with.
(__) played the accent that swims in my mouth.

(__) dreamt a path I wouldn’t have treaded on my own.

Adored, because I cannot reward. 

Loved, because I don’t know the rest. The reaping of the field.

Alarmed or Disarmed? 

Even if it is the end, this is where I begin.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

A dialogue

Why do you have to be so unreasonably insane?
¿Por qué sos tan irrazonablemente desquiciado?

Porque intento quererte a pesar de todo
Because I try to love you amid everything

Amid what (¿)
A pesar de qué (?)

A pesar de mis pasiones, que nos vuelven locos.
Amid my passions, which drive us mad.

(Pregunto (Where are yours, huh?
I ask) ¿A dónde están las tuyas, eh?)

They don’t exist but in the midst of whatever you bring.
No existen más que en las tinieblas de lo que sea que traigas.

Quizá por eso te necesito; no escribiría si pudiera contártelo todo.
Maybe that’s why I need you; I wouldn’t be inspired to write
if I could tell you everything.

But why?

¿Por qué, qué?

Er… What did you say?

No, you wait.

I love you.

Yo tambi.én.
I haven’t discovered anything new: nobody matters permanently in one’s life. In the hopes that one will know when to dispense each person inhabiting your house, you treat them unevenly, or circumstances treat them unevenly. In turn, external factors (them, circumstances) behave in the same way. Not everyone is dismissed; some are lost, some are stolen, some simply disappear underground (I have seen some looming in the room I dare not address by name - the opposite of the attic). It is an art to know how to let people into the main door, walk them around, see what rooms they like, which ones you think suits them, and then invite them (or force them) to offer lodging (to hold hostage, he murmurs). For some time. A few chosen ones are allowed to wonder back and forth into different rooms, or even venture around the whole house (granted, an impossible quest) on their own.
Eventually, their stay is over welcomed. They sleep on your couch, walk their muddy shoes on the carpet, try to open a door that has been specifically (sometimes explicitly) forbidden to them. He sleeps a little bit too comfortably in your bed, she makes food that is too delicious, they treat everything that’s yours better than if it were their own. She helps to straighten your bedroom up, he gets rid of all the junk that has been nesting in the storage room.
Tired, defeated, or just plain bothered, you start closing doors.
Click. Toom-Ton. Bang.
(That son of a bitch was annoying.)
Your house is ultimately, unequivocally, unchangeably your own.
It is a compromise, a challenge, a pain, to negotiate it.
Enough. Silence!
I’ll be damned if I cannot set my own rules for my own house.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Halloween 2006, or my horses gone wild.

I wonder:

Why won't they just leave us alone.

Their hate,

It's heavy,

We feel the weight of their hate

And it's too heavy, man...

They want us dead

Or alive, to better torment us

This fact is unclear;

The motives behind the fact, plain unknown

(Or forgotten).

There is an aim, the aim IS clear:

To make us feel guilty for things we can't change

To provoke a response that will confirm what they though about us

In the first place, but was not there in the first place!

We want to be one

But they won't leave us alone.

The party,

It's ours,

We jig lifeblood 'til it's up, but

It's not worth our blood

My essence ain't style.

My essence ain't style.

Not a choice

Or a fad.

With an iron brand, I burn in your head:

We took up arms because you went up in arms *

You are the fags.

Their hate,

It's heavy,

We feel the weight of their hate

And it's heavy,

Too heavy and unjust, man.


* (Your kind has a strung history of devaluing difference)

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Back problems-
*The apartment's **too cold** at night*
←I wish I knew where I was living→
}With a gun The Enemy leaves me naked{
6I haven't returned all the money I owe him9
__Downfacingdog breathe rightlegup breathe
/I'm here to listen to you with no judgment/
0Bring the tray back by one0
"Let's see if he remembers I'm his father"
:(We never hang out anymore):
?Which way to the museum?
#%Clean up after yourself will you$%
^Write about Cinderella loosing her shoe and^
(Story) > be Creative (x) about It (y)
+Beyourselfloving; respectful; stayputstaysilent+
&Leave me alone but love me&
dkn't fkrget tkmkrrkw the landlkrd's ckming

[Never sturdy]
Well... !great! but I'd like to make it to thirty.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

I'm g.o.n.e

As I write it down I release everything
Nothing will change by tomorrow
But it will have changed in another sphere
I will keep putting up with the inconsistency of happiness
Because I sacrifice myself for the wellness of my others.

I’ll try to leave without a tick on a cup
Without you ever noticing.
I’ll disappear, but I will remember the quiet nights spent with each other
And my memory will keep them alive for you;
In your reality I will still be there.
You will be fine
Reliving the best part of what we were.
We were semi-atrocious
Were awfully sexual;
God knew to refuse sexuality would be a sin we would not bear.

Monday, September 25, 2006

fuck fuck fuck

-Fuck, fuck, fuck-
No poetry of balance
Can translate the
Weight of the heart...
...A man is a stone
(Unqualified to stow)
Upon which fire blazes
Not heating the hub.
To express
He writes
But of language, of course,
He omits the core
He figures speech, figures that speech will
stand for something else
People often cannot understand
Did he mean ‘bananas’ with ‘bananas’
Or the moon caught between the earth and the sun?
What a waste, then,
The elevated, the precise, the chosen one.
It implies pretension
(one can choose to feel)
(one can decide the scale, the degree)
But complies to limitation.

If I cannot understand
If I need a book to explain your book
And we see the same world, we live
Together, at the same time,
I cannot make your words mine
Fuck you
And fuck the force that
You are not fighting back.

Sunday, September 24, 2006


Hi, Mom.
How are you doing? I’m about to buy some - for your brother’s flu.
Are you at the drugstore?
What’s up?
I was just calling to say Hi.
What’s the matter, honey, just tell me.
How did you know?
It’s in your voice. Is everything OK?
Well, in a way everything is OK. It’s nothing important. I just did something I shouldn’t have.
Is Thomas with you?
He’s in class right now. I’m at his house, waiting for him. I didn’t call you to talk about it, so don’t worry. Just I’ll call you later, I’m gonna take a shower.
Darla, is it something bad? What did you do? Just tell me.
Hmn well, the computer was open. I looked into his things. His Messenger history.
His what?
Messenger, do you know what it is?
Of course I do. What history are you talking about?
When you talk to people Messenger lets you store your conversations in a folder
In a folder.
in the hard drive
In the hard drive.
So you went
And looked.
Yes. I looked at his conversations with his best friend, cause I thought “If there is someone he has been honest to, that’s Jessica”, right?
Let me - give me a second, Darla, OK? I’m leaving the store.
OK. Cause I was thinking about it, before today
OK, now I’m out, tell me.
and I thought about it
About what?
About what had happened between Thomas and Dustin. You know.
Oh, Darla, you really have to give it a break. You are hurting yourself for nothing. It’s in the past, it really is.
I know, I know. I know it is. It’s just - I don’t know, it was there, and I was thinking about how I had never understood some things about what happened, and I knew it’d be a good way to find out.
But you told me he had been honest about it.
He was, it’s just that I knew there would be little things he would probably decide to hide, you know? Everybody does that, and it’s OK for most people. Most people don’t want to know about what their boyfriend’s have done with such and such while they are taking a break from them. But you know how I am.
Yes. You want to know everything, Darla. God knows why. God only knows whom you got that from. Your father has never asked a thing.
Well, that’s not the point right now. He is supposed to come back home in like half an hour. And I wanna tell him what I did, and that I’m sorry, and I want him to know that now I know everything.
Wait, you found something?
Of course I did.
Was it important?
Mmm not really. I mean, he was never unfaithful to me in any way, but I read how he told Jessica him and Dustin had cuddled a couple of times, in bed. And he asked his friend if she thought that was cheating, which of course it’s not, although it explains things much better; to me, you know? Because I had never understood why he would take a break with me, date him for only some weeks, and then want to come back to me with such determination. But now I understand. He said it had just sorta happened, that we had gone on a break because of the long distance relationship, and that even he had been surprised about how things had turned out. But now I know that he was kinda sabotaging himself.
What do you mean?
With the cuddling. Of course if you do that with someone you know likes you, it is going to start affecting you in some way. Especially when I’m not there, when I’m half a country away, and he misses me.
He misses being physical with someone.
I mean, cuddling it’s nothing, but at the same time you don’t do it, not if you are with someone.
Darla why? I mean, you said you were okay with it. It’s been too many months, and you are there, visiting Thomas, supposedly to have a fun time. You guys are so young. I don’t know. It seems to me you are just putting too much pressure on both of you.
I know, but do you know what it feels like? It feels like the air was pressuring against your skin as if it were to break you in. Especially when there is nothing concretely bad about how everything went about. I mean, he broke up with me, tried dating his friend, which obviously never worked out, and then was sincere with both of us. In all honesty, I hate it.
Don’t laugh!
You are laughing too!
It’s because I’m nervous.
Well, you make your mother nervous too, all that stormy weather you’ve always had in you. Seriously, what do you hate?
These shitty things people do. I mean, seriously, why couldn’t he just do something obviously wrong so that my choices as to how to confront this would be more black or white? I just don’t understand why he had to do shady things, instead of either going all the way, or not doing anything at all.
Well, you got that from me. I cannot see why Thomas would be so indecisive about things. But the good part is that what you found gives you the lead to actually once and for all understand that what he did was just tiny stupid mistakes that are not wrong overall. Underneath it all, he was always sincere to you.
Overall. But I mean, that is what matters, isn’t it? Who would tell somebody else they’ve cuddled with somebody, or that they are confused about somebody?
Yes, that is true.
Because in the end it doesn’t matter. What matters is that when it became indeed an important source of trouble, he told you and broke it off.
True. I think I’m going to tell him, I feel really bad this time.
You are going to tell him?
Darla what for?
I don’t know. It seems that if I hide something else from him, things will not remain solid like they have been for the past months.
How do you think he will react?
He’ll probably get really mad, of course. He’ll understand he cannot trust me. But I need to tell him, because I also want explanations about what I have found, you know?
Don’t tell him, Darla. Why complicate it? You think all couples are honest with each other? You think your father knows everything about me, or me about him?
No, of course not. I’m not naive. But the thing is that I need closure, and if I don’t tell him, I will have these doubts in my head. And I cannot wait some days to think it over.
Because he would notice that you are unwell.
Because then I wouldn’t be able to really show him how sorry I am for being this fucked up.
Can he look in the computer to see if you looked?
I don’t think so. But, yeah, you raise a good point, what if he could?
Mmm Hmm. Well, if you think you know how to handle the conversation, and you trust your good intentions and his, then tell him, tell him. But please don’t be confrontational, especially if he gets mad.
You wouldn’t tell him, would you?
No, no, I would. I am worried that you feel that you have the right to be given explanations about behaviors that are much more in the past than what well, you’ve done your share of inappropriate things, Darla. I’m sorry, but I had to say it.
I know. But he doesn’t know, and there is nobody he could ever find out from, and he won’t ever know. Because I’m not as dumb as to save my messenger conversations in the computer he has access to.
Darla, you are terrible! And you don’t mean that, I know you.
Haha, I’m sorry. It’s true, though. If I look at the situation completely from outside of myself, I do believe the terrible deed here is for him to have done things so honestly and erratically that he didn’t even care to lock the doors behind him.
Hehe, Darla You are one to whom the term “stop thinking” should apply literally to, I swear.
I know. I don’t know what I will do.
Just wait until he comes through the door.
I’ll see how it goes once he gets here.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Images of nests

Nonsensical and crooked, that is what they are!

Think of a diagram of a dream of a house
(not a dream house)
Think of a diagram of a dream of a house
when love has
bloomed but birds build
life inside of it after love is consumed.

Water washes it out
Memory cannot plot for or against it
, reverie refuses, to reconstruct it…

…And still they stand.

Sunday, September 10, 2006


A lie was dodged and it rot my timber a tot lot.
Not by slitting, but by knitting
He has left me bothered.

Reconciling with it (perhaps) ravaged my rattrap.
In the face of you it clambered.
- Don’t stutter, don’t stutter -

Admit to myself I too have fed the lion’s mouth.
Twice within reach my flesh muttered.
I felt it watery.

It tattooed in my arm that the past would come back to
Spell, haunt him; unearthly
Determination not
Without doubt

Not even this ego,
This ego that adores itself,
Would take the blow with fists and spears.
We laughed a bit and skipped a beat and forgot about it.
Had it ever really happened?
Barely, unless
Common sense my rattrap ravaged.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

I’ll tell you how you do it:

Es tu problema.
Lo evitás.
Lo insinuás.
Lo palpito.
Lo encaro.
Lo desvestís.
No lo dejas al desnudo.
Pregunto lo mismo, de otra manera.
Intento ser más cauteloso, incisivo.
Lo esquivás.
Ya no lo entiendo.
Te lo sacás de encima.
Me lo cargo al hombro.

Te enojás conmigo por intentar saber qué anda pasando, sin problemas me decís que quiero saber for my own benefit, not yours. Quizá sea cierto, aunque al principio no lo fuera, y en los próximos minutos tu creencia falaz se haga completamente verdadera.

Ahora va a ser cierto.
Con razón, lo cortás.
Y yo me lo guardo en el pecho.
Te vas a dormir.
Te dejo tranquilo.
Me dejás conmigo.
Circularity, like a planet's route, is the easiest way to explain us and everything else,
but somehow our consciousness (as well as our unconsciousness) resists the incorporation
of such a simple principle.

We apply convergence to seemingly disparate events and entities. We try to find the cause of everything. We ask questions that are sometimes inevitably irrelevant. We measure heartbeats. We verbalize emotions.

them: Chance is never coincidental.
me: Egos are never beneficial.


Like the universe, let us proceed, determine, and complete, by making the least amount of effort, and taking the shortest path available.

Let us become the universe, where serenity is not contradictory to being deserving, and minimal struggle is unlike laziness.

Achieve, by using the simplest means possible, with
your spiritual economy set in full motion.
If so comes to be
We will rest,
We will rest together in peace,
Unsuccessfully (fully at our best);
right next to Everything.

If it speaks to you...