Pequenias pulgas escabullidizas, husmeando entre mis sabanas en busqueda de un cuerpo inmovil que respira. En jaque esperan pacientes, saboreando ya el metalico gusto que les aguarda. Excitadas y en deleite carcomen el denso y deslizante metal intravenoso; oxidado y cansado del dia a dia.
Un signo de alabanza? Anhelan mi fortaleza y la toman, y derrumbandome bruscamente escupen sobre mi sangre derramada. Satisfechas se van y olvidan sus debilidades conmigo. Al extraniarme vuelven mas tarde, malacostumbradas a mi gran capacidad de reciclaje sanguineo. Mi cuerpo confundido, cansado, e inmovil las deja pasar sin recordar el dolor una vez sufrido.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Labyrinth's End
Note to Reader: Things aren't always autobiographical. Sometimes they are just stories. Thanks and enjoy if you are able,
Natalia.
Natalia.
It is haunting me. It is coming, I know it is. I have seen it outside standing by the front door: static but ready, decided but dubious; you see it?
It had been warning me all along: it was everywhere. I don’t know why I acted so irrational when it finally consumed me, leaving nothing but dust behind, I mean, I had seen it coming since the day I was born, you know?
I worked so hard not to think of it that it defeated the purpose: the more I tried not to, the more I thought of it, just like every memory you want to forget badly enough as to end up turning it into a constant reminder. It was these unwanted, constant reminders that dragged me down Insanity Rd. and into the dark gap of the brain where all disturbing memories fall. I was lost in a vast, pitch dark hole surrounded by all the resented memories of my cruel life. I gathered them all, one by one; I embraced them, brought them out of the hole with me and practiced them with others as to not be ashamed of myself: all except for the one that terrified me the most, the one I worked the hardest not to think of, and even though I tried to bury it for good, I was still horrified of it on my better days, and I must admit that, on the worse ones, I still craved it, but my body resisted to invite it anyway.
Experiencing new things was always my main interest; you know, exploring the unexplored, seeing the unseen, hearing the unheard - those sorts of amazing events that only happen if you are or seek to be in the right place at the right time. You can distinguish their superb magnitude because you and your body react to it frenetically and simultaneously.
It’s easy to recognize the moment your body finds something (or someone) fascinating: your heart starts pounding, your jaw drops - and you know you can’t fight the feeling, - I mean really, sometimes you can’t control the way your body responds. And you recognize you, [insert your name and last name here], have found something fascinating because you stare at the object of your excitement, study it, and enjoy it in silence, shameless, without any bodily interruptions.
What I’m trying to say is that new experiences cause in me, as they may in you, simultaneous mental and physical fascination: my ultimate, most desired pleasure. Dazzling happiness reflected in an astonished smile, shock and satisfaction spilling out my furiously-pounding heart - is what I’m talking about. Why didn’t my mind and body react this way to a potential new experience? The thought of it certainly didn’t cause any pleasure in me; it didn’t excite or fascinate me, I mean, it did make my body react but not in a pleasurable way: it didn’t meet any of the characteristics experiencing something new causes in me, not before and not at the time it happened; maybe and most likely because I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know what would happen after, when the action was completed, or how to take advantage of that experience after it was over.
Oh, you mystically tempting and frightening evil force! Laughing at the lonely fools you get to terminate. You know I dreaded you like the majority of us sane ones, so why did you take me with you? How could you invade the privacy of my home? But I guess it’s too late for questions now, I must rest in peace, and don’t you people worry for my soul, for it will be haunting you like death was me.
I am coming, you know I am. You have seen me outside, standing by the front door: static but ready, decided but dubious; you see me?
It had been warning me all along: it was everywhere. I don’t know why I acted so irrational when it finally consumed me, leaving nothing but dust behind, I mean, I had seen it coming since the day I was born, you know?
I worked so hard not to think of it that it defeated the purpose: the more I tried not to, the more I thought of it, just like every memory you want to forget badly enough as to end up turning it into a constant reminder. It was these unwanted, constant reminders that dragged me down Insanity Rd. and into the dark gap of the brain where all disturbing memories fall. I was lost in a vast, pitch dark hole surrounded by all the resented memories of my cruel life. I gathered them all, one by one; I embraced them, brought them out of the hole with me and practiced them with others as to not be ashamed of myself: all except for the one that terrified me the most, the one I worked the hardest not to think of, and even though I tried to bury it for good, I was still horrified of it on my better days, and I must admit that, on the worse ones, I still craved it, but my body resisted to invite it anyway.
Experiencing new things was always my main interest; you know, exploring the unexplored, seeing the unseen, hearing the unheard - those sorts of amazing events that only happen if you are or seek to be in the right place at the right time. You can distinguish their superb magnitude because you and your body react to it frenetically and simultaneously.
It’s easy to recognize the moment your body finds something (or someone) fascinating: your heart starts pounding, your jaw drops - and you know you can’t fight the feeling, - I mean really, sometimes you can’t control the way your body responds. And you recognize you, [insert your name and last name here], have found something fascinating because you stare at the object of your excitement, study it, and enjoy it in silence, shameless, without any bodily interruptions.
What I’m trying to say is that new experiences cause in me, as they may in you, simultaneous mental and physical fascination: my ultimate, most desired pleasure. Dazzling happiness reflected in an astonished smile, shock and satisfaction spilling out my furiously-pounding heart - is what I’m talking about. Why didn’t my mind and body react this way to a potential new experience? The thought of it certainly didn’t cause any pleasure in me; it didn’t excite or fascinate me, I mean, it did make my body react but not in a pleasurable way: it didn’t meet any of the characteristics experiencing something new causes in me, not before and not at the time it happened; maybe and most likely because I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know what would happen after, when the action was completed, or how to take advantage of that experience after it was over.
Oh, you mystically tempting and frightening evil force! Laughing at the lonely fools you get to terminate. You know I dreaded you like the majority of us sane ones, so why did you take me with you? How could you invade the privacy of my home? But I guess it’s too late for questions now, I must rest in peace, and don’t you people worry for my soul, for it will be haunting you like death was me.
I am coming, you know I am. You have seen me outside, standing by the front door: static but ready, decided but dubious; you see me?
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Awakening Death
Dreams - What are they if not a recreation of reality in the most outrageous kinds of ways - your mind playing tricks on you, tempting you to dive in. Well let me tempt you to dive in.
Dreams: a fusion of reality and mental state - chaotic disturbance in head lead for paranoia and chaos in dream.
On the verge of death I stood, unable to keep my balance - a physical hesitation between life and death. I looked into the Pacific Ocean petrified of the wild waves hammering the rocky mount on which I stood: waves crashing at my feet, about to devour me into their despair.
The sea had made its way through the sound of desperate souls begging, crying, blow-jobbing for salvation, swallowing the lives left in them, and now the inharmonious sound of desperation had ceased, but the anxiety prevailed in those who were fast enough to climb onto the rocky mount in an attempt to deceive the sea and its force. Being fast would not save me from this one – the sea was fighting me, it wanted to absorb me into its passionate disgust.
I was struggling to hold all of us together: trying to hold on to my own life and that of the supposed weaker others was not an easy task. We had all made it to the mount; we all contemplated in awe the fear of the victims when giving in to the waters, unable to keep fighting its force. We all saw in their deaths our near future, and we were losing hope. Some of the fastest ones that climbed onto the rocky mount with us had already been sucked into the frantic sea, which tide was growing faster and faster, covering the rocky mount where we were standing and making us seem like ants on pebbles from afar.
Thinking without time for it, crying without consolation, screaming without ears to hear us, we awaited death. There was nowhere to be safe, nowhere to hide, nothing to do but to stand still on those rocks holding on to each other. We were stuck in my unconscious head waiting for my body to awaken to save us from the high tides, and as we set our horrified eyes on the wave that would swipe us into the sea I woke up to the silence of my bedroom, contemplating the pacific ocean of clothes surrounding my bed.
Friday, October 12, 2007
And so is MY <3 a Crash Pad
And so is my heart a crash pad
A transient hotel or a men's shelter
There when convenient, a form of welfare
Better than the street in winter for
A hot bath, no fleas, a slow
Blow-job with appropriate drugs
"I love you" the token charge?
Excerpt of Rene Ricard's love poem And So Is My Heart a Crash Pad
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Comienzo con Broche de Oro
En dias como estos no me siento azul.
Me siento roja.
Pero sigo sintiendome defraudada.
La lechuza no ha parado de advertir. Estuvo hoy junto a mi carro, gritando a mi oido por la rendija de mi ventana al unisono del viento, y yo ignorandola, cantando a todo pulmon una cancion de James Brown. Te imaginaba haciendo tu paso ochentero favorito, y yo riendome contigo y dandote la mano con un beso. Que cursi. Creo que por eso la lechuza sigue cantando por la ventana de mi habitacion oscura y desordenada, sigue advirtiendo.
Como si yo no anduviera ya advertida.
Ingenua.
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