Os juro que es el peor caso de olor a pies que me he encontrado. Estuve bromeando sobre ello con un amigo por el messenger, pero llevo una hora oliéndolos y todavía no me he acostumbrado!!!
Nauseabundo. Mareante. Lo juro. Estoy mareada, y me había planteado cambiar de PC en el ciber, pero un vistazo rápido me dijo que mejor no: casi completamente lleno a estas horas.
Me marcho. Esos pies han podido conmigo.
Y no soy del tipo de persona que se queja fácilmente de los olores corporales.
Typically, she just phoned me now saying she's bored and can I go up to her place now? It takes ages, a long bus ride as there's no underground on her hilly 'hood, and I must be back in the centre in two hours, so no way can I go now!
Anyway, seems like she's feeling much better today. Has sick leave for 5 days, and must rest as she has a bad headache, and looks terrible, but doesn't think it shall leave too many marks.
Been playing around with my cameraphone late last night. Can see some of my new stuff on the B-tracks, or on the Zeigeist on your right ;)
Haven't uploaded all the trees and clouds pics I did yesterday... sloooooooowly, please as I'm not sure if the offer of free sending mms I received before this camphone is still applied on my phone, or if it's expired.
Between my famous purple, silk flip-flops and my studded high heels,I have quite a wide range of shoes & boots. According to my mood and/or occasion, I wear whatever suits my stride.
I know many women consider high heels stupid, macho-imposed, and unconfortable. I agree on unconfortable... sometimes, not always. Some flat shoes can be pretty uncomfortable too... And as to stupid, it depends on how you wear them ;)
I use more classical hgh heels for 'power dressing' at work sometimes, but usually spend most of winter in chunky high heeled boots -Think Nancy Sinatra! Can walk -not just stutter around click-click-clicking- and can dance for hours, can't run. Feel good for self-esteem sometimes, and a good way to finish off certain clothes...
Yet I adore flip-flops in summer. Feel free, hardly covering your foot, moving with it, not making the foot move with the shoe... but I can walk and run in flip-flops, and find it really hard to dance with them: the shoe sticks to the gooey floor and the foot ends up either on the damn dance floor, or trampled by zillions of other feet in more protective shoes. A spiky heel helps in these cases ;)
For some reason, yesterday I felt like taking pictures of my sandals on grass. Was walking around, looking for the right grass to use -either too patchy, or too shadowy, or too tall, or too fresh & green... and ended taking about 4 versions of this photo. Different positions for the shadow. Not sure if this is the best one, but had to make my mind up.
Later, last night, couldn't sleep -started taking pictures of my right eye -yessssss, I knew this would happen with a digital camera ;)- with and without make-up. Then went around the flat chosing stuff to focus on... but went back to the shoes I had in front of me while watching tv... put only the right one on and took photos of its reflection on a mirror -playing with the reflections, with the different angles... Anyway, this is the b-track :P
I like Pirata's eyes here... I took some closer ones I didn't quite like... and shall try and repeat. I was also trying to get my own eyes, and Hugo's close up, but not satisfied yet with the results. Got to get to the best light for this limited camera.
Hugo might even get his own Flickr acount, as he loves photography... and we can not afford too much developing right now
By the way, couldn't remember from where I had downloaded 'Boys don't cry' to my previous mobile, so after much searching I got now 'Close to me', also from The Cure. It is actually a better ringtone, once I get used to it ;)
From now on, I think most of my cameraphone photos shall be on the B tracks... or you can check my Flickr link on the right ;)
Last night, around 11 p.m. or so, I got this phonecall from Josep Maria, one of Eva's 'bodyfriends' -he was a bit shaken, but being the fellow philosopher he is, he managed to talk calm-yet-shaky. He said Eva had had an accident, and she was now at the vall d'Hebron emergency wards, had been hit by a bus while walking home in her 'hood, and that some guy called Roger was with her right now. He was busy this week, and couldn't get to see her -let my eyes roll here- so he wanted me to find out as much as possible, and keep him informed. O.k., he knew I'm not working, so I really do have time for visits and he is working, but still...
So I phoned Laida, her daughter, and tried to find out a bit more. Yes, Eva walked home after the accident, but then she fell unconscious in front of her daughter, who immediately phoned Roger -another of Eva's bodyfriends, and a neighbour- to come and help. They carried Eva to his car and then to hospital and ...Laida knew little more. She'd called her grandma to go to stay with Eva, and I offered her to come sleep at our place, but she'd stay at her boyfriend's parents', nearby.
We agreed she'd phone whatever time at night, if she had any news.
This morning, still without any news at 8 a.m., I sent a few sms: to Eva's mobile, so that Laida would see it, to Maite's to ask if she had any further news, to Joan, my ex, who introduced me to Eva...
Then, from about 8:30 'till 9:20 I had about 10 phonecalls: Laida, Maite, Josep Maria, Laida, Maite, Joan... It seems Eva was there 'till 4 a.m., had many tests and was sent home but the doctors asked Roger to prevent Eva from sleeping until a certain amount of hours passed. She's finally sleeping at his place, and expects to get back home this afternoon. She's not feeling well, but has only the knock on her face, no internal damage.
Shall phone this afternoon to see if she needs help and/or feels like me visiting or wants to sleep.
Out of the pics we took, some were better than others -gotta get used to them still... but am starting to post them already anyway :D Shall get more artistic soon, my attempts last night were interrupted by a phonecall.
Might as well start playing with my cameraphone, and experimenting how to get the most out of its limited possibilities :D
These are two pics of my fav bag, Eva bought me it a year and a half ago... when we bumped into some unexpected money :D
It has a beautiful print, and beads sewn on -but as it is our sort of crappy technology -Vel ;)- the beads keep dropping off and me knotting loose bits of cotton so as not to lose any more beads. Endless fun!
...Así que aproveché mi nuevo móvil can cámara Telefónica TSM7 -ya, de baratillo, que estoy en el paro- para ver si alguien sabe de qué va esta figura ;)
So... what else can help my incommunication? On Saturday, Hugo put a bottle of fizzy water in my beach bag... without screwing the top on tightly!!! so my many papers and info in my bag were ruined, and also my mobile!!!!!!!!!! As am jobhunting, can't afford not to have a mobile with me, so I went and bought another one today -easier said than done!
First I went to Telefonica/Movistar at Plaza Catalunya, as I was nearby, and after a 20-minute queue, decided to go elsewhere. Then I went to another Telefonica/Movistar official shop, full to the brims but with more people behind the desks than the first one... and a lady in uniform came to ask what I wanted to do -change mobile, change modality of contract, etc- and said I had to go and phone such-and-such number from a phonebox outside before anything else, to get my points. But I said so far whenever I changed my mobile, the shop itself did this -and i couldn't use my mobile as it wouldn't even switch on!!!
Nothing to do, treated a bit as a nuisance, I saw I had to either go find another place, or agree on phoning this number, mobile-priced (let alone free-of-cost) and find out how many points I had exactly.
The third phonebox did work. So I put in a few coins, but wasn't enough so put in a € coin. Automated reply, and then I get to the point I have to enter my bank account -after giving my phone number, Identity number, etc... and I haven't got it with me. Am waiting to see if when you don't reply you get to an operator, but no... it just cuts off!!!
Phone again, this time I'd click onto operator option half-way-through... and then this guy gets on the line, and says yes, he'd check the number is for me -name, surnames, DNI number again... but still he needs my bank account anyway!!! I am running out of coins -over i.80 euro by now- and he's still telling me it's for my own safety ...so i hang up, as it's beeeeping no more credit! =(
Finally go back home -6 underground stops and out of my way for the cyber etc- and get my bank details just in case, and go to the Telefonica/movistar outlet in my hood. No problem, no need of my bank details, just my DNI and phone number... and they dealt with everything else.
GOT A CAMERAPHONE!!! Though the second-cheapest one, with difference! A Telefonica make, not a Nokia or Siemens, Motorola... I hope it's ok. Not sure how to email the pics yet, but much fun sure soon!!!
...and I just found out the Tax Return I was expecting actually did arrive, about a week ago, and only 300 euro... so I'm really broke, i thought I could still count on that besides what I'd seen in my account!
It's been a long time since I read some of Fernando Arrabal's works. I had some of his plays, and read as many interviews as possible... but when I saw the book there -only 3 euro!- I recalled something about this edition too -the real Teatro Completo was published by Espasa and it was enormous, over 2,000 pages according to Wiki ;)
Actually, couldn't help but start reading yesterday while my son was learning how to use a wheelchair and listening to a video for blind children, at the Mercé's section of NGOs.
By the way, we played a game of dominoes with our eyes blindfolded, and it was quite exciting for him to learn not to rely on your eyes...
* I also got Lorca's Poeta en Nueva York, Oda a Salvador Dalí & Romancero Gitano for a euro, as I had had this same edition actually, but lent it and never got it back! ...and I saw a stand with English books for 2 euro, seemed like paperback bestsellers, but still shall go back to check ;)
Also am carrying tons of weight in my bag, between both my book and his, plus our beach stuff in case we go, plus his toys chosen for the day, plus his long sleeved t-shirt and mine for the chillier evenings... plus all the shit I usually carry anyway!
Sent a c.v. to a really interesting company. Not gonna say much more, don't want to talk too much. But it would be an interesting environment, a film distributor focused on lesser known, non-commercial films... sigh!
Anything else interesting lately? Not that much. The surprise of Nate actually bringing over two of the promised HP books for Hugo, about 4 or 5 months after his first mention of the idea ;) -and less time at the cyber, as am more on the beach and at the swings :D.
Oh. Yeah. And the promised PC my friend was going to hand me over and install et all, it isn't working now, so no PC at home again. Can't possibly buy one now, even by installments, with so many expenses to cover every month and so little money coming in right now.
Instead, we went to the cinema to watch Shrek 2, as there was no school yesterday. It was so funny at times, the reference-within-reference and hat tricks it had... I loved the baddies' tavern, where the piano man was Captain Hook and the voice/song he was singing was Tom Waits!!!!!!!!
Then, back to the beach again, as now Hugo is loving the nudist beach -with my Harry Potter reading sessions ;) -the bad part of this is, as he's hooked on HP now, but on me reading it out loud to him, I have less time to immerse myself in London in the 70s, with Ian Dury's biography -which I am enjoying soooooo much!!!
And still we have today and tomorrow left... Am having a really good chance to get through to Hugo these days, with me not working and spending so much time together, sharing swims in the sea, playing together on the swings, sharing books, talking things over and over...
This morning I went to the beach again, after watching Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring (Bom yeoreum gaeul gyeoul geurigo bom)* and still in a contemplative and thought-scrutinizing mood. I love the beach now, when you really feel like lying in the sun, on the warm sand, with a breeze tickling you and the sea is nice and cool, but not too cold to enjoy yet. I miss bumping into Ian as I used to, years ago, before he went back to England. He used to turn up from somewhere, walking the kilometers of the beach taking in the sun and breeze as I was... and we'd have one of our useless talks that never got anywhere... Just felt really nice.
Yet, when still breathing in the air, and caressing the sand, I suddenly heard someone address me, and ask where my son was. I'd been coming to this nudist beach during the summer, when it was quite crowded, and I only bumped into people I knew very few times, besides the friends I'd gone with or arrange to meet. So I was surprised to have someone know me, as I hadn't seen any familiar faces. It was this guy who'd been commenting with me about Hugo and his nerves when he first took his pants off yesterday.
He asked to sit next to me, and as I didn't really care, I said ok. But then he went on and on and on about how uncool and non-understandable people who had prejudices about nudity were, and how natural it was to sit around as we were, and how he never got turned on by nudist women on the beach
Then I got the regular complaint about how 'serious' I am, and questioned whether he'd said anything that had bothered me. I had to say it was nothing in particular, but I had just come to the beach to read and relax, and a little conversation was ok, but I didn't really want to talk and talk. I wanted to relax. And read.
It got worse when I saw his dick was starting to twitch -and he was going on about how I was a real vision, laid under the sun and playing with the sand in my hands, looking like a queen (?) (sic), and that 'oops!, you've got sand all over you, do you want me to knock it off for you?'
Chuckles from people around us. As I said not many people, so it was easy for them to see what was going on, besides many of us have never spoken or only exchanged a couple of words or so, but we know each other by sight and can roll eyes or pull silly faces when something happens.
This time it was quite a general cough/chuckle, and people shifting so as to cover giggles.
* Hadn't heard any Korean since I lost my job in July, and it was nice to listen to the sing-song tones I'd become so used to.
Beautiful settings. Makes you re-think if it is worth living the way we do, in big cities, hurrying, dong things we really couldn't care less about only for money... But then I personally believe it does. For me. And the ascetic life had tempted me some times while studying... but am too driven by impulse and passions, got to drink the whole cup even if it's poisoned.
Marta: ¿Qué tal el cole, Hugo?
Hugo: Bien. Mal.
Marta: Ya estamos. ¿Qué pasa, Hugo? ¿qué pasa con el cole?
Hugo: Es que hay números que me dan miedo.
Marta [mirándome de reojo, con su sonrisa de 'Influencia de Áurea a la vista']: ¿Te han hecho algo?
Hugo: NO. Son malos, ¿no lo entiendes? Son...¡¡¡malos!!!
Marta y yo: ...?
Hugo: El 2, el 4, el 6, y todos esos están bien. Son normales, a veces buenos. No dan miedo. Pero el 1, el 3, el 5... [hace el gesto de estremecerse, acompañado de sonidos tipo 'brrgrrrrmbrrgfll'] NO PUEDO MÁS, me dan miedo
Marta y yo: ...aha...
Hugo: Y la seño no me deja saltármelos
Hugo: Y se enfada
Hugo: Pero hay una solución: si juntas dos malos, hacen uno bueno.
[Pausa para beberme un buen trago de vino, y dar unas palmadas a Marta para que reaccione]
Marta: Pero si está sacando teorías presocráticas... (...)
De hecho, en esa cena Hugo sacó muchas teorías metafísicas y conclusiones visionarias. Desgraciadamente, no recuerdo más, y creo [que mi imaginación hace ] olvidar los comentarios más significativos.
Y si recuerdo tan claramente lo de los números malos, es porque es un tema recurrente en Hugo. Teme a los impares.
- Schfiftyfive - Flash Animation
- Bang Bang Bang Flash ebaumsworld.com
- Peanut Butter Jelly Time Flash ebaumsworld.com
- Blode and the Giant Bee, presented by Joel Veitch, www.rathergood.com and Stuart Payne www.nicecupofteaandasitdown.com
- End Of World - Interesting view on how the world will end. Flash Animation... actually, this one's not quite as bad, have linked it on okok!
Oferta de empleo: Alberto - Barcelona - InfoJobs.net
Me imagino a los tíos de la oficina, diciendo
-Oye, ¿qué puesto es el que hacía falta cubrir?
-El de Alberto
-A.l.b.e.r.t.o. Ya está, ya lo he entrado.
Como todo en su vida, está pasando un embarazo excesivo, histriónico. A los dos meses ya dejó de hacer la compra, porque se cansaba.
Pero la historia que me vino a la mente ahora es otra. A las cuatro horas de saber que estaba embarazada, tras enviar sms a todo el mundo con una mano, predictor en la otra, tuvo pérdidas y tuvo que salir volando a Urgencias, y pasar una semana de reposo total.
A todo esto, nadie explicó a Hugo, tras la
Así que le expliqué yo por teléfono que mi hermana estaba mal, y que tenía que descansar mucho y tener cuidado durante una semana, para ver si va a poder tener su hijo o no. Que nadie se lo había dicho porque pensaban que era pequeño para entenderlo, pero que yo creía que sabiendo el problema, podría comprender el cambio de humor en la casa. Y le pedí que tuviera paciencia y tratara de molestar lo menos posible a su tía, ya
Así que mi querido hijo le preguntó a mi amada hermana, nada más colgar el teléfono:
"¿Cómo llamarás a tu bebé, si no se muere?"
Mi hermana me llamó en seguida, a decirme lo que había pasado y preguntar si había sido idea mía.
Al final, resultó que sí sigue adelante con el embarazo. Pero una vez más, se olvidaron de avisar a Hugo de que ya parecía que todo iba bien. Así que de nuevo me tocó ponerle al día:
YO: ¿Sabes qué? Ya han ido al médico y me han dicho que todo está bien.
HUGO: ¿Qué quieres decir? ¿Qué está bien?
YO: Que de momento, el bebé está bien.
HUGO: De Momeeentooo, ¿eh?, de momeeeeennnto...
Se le ha quedado la coletilla ya, 'de momeeentooo...', con expresión sarcástica.
Yo: ¿Por qué?
Hugo: Joooooopé, es que ahora no te puedo contar cómo acabó la peli, porque me la imaginé de otro modo
Yo: no pasa nada, es igual
Hugo: Pero es que siempre me pasa lo mismo. ¡¡¡Como me lo voy imaginando, no tengo memoria!!!
Yo: ¿Con las pelis?
Hugo: Noooooooo, con el camino al cole, con la lección, con los juguetes que tengo porque a veces creo que tengo algunos que no he comprado, con los amigos...
Hugo: A tí también te pasa, ¿no, mamá?
Me ha pillado.
En el CCCB vi un documental -RESISTENCIA - HIP HOP EN COLOMBIA- que me hizo pensar, mientras lo veía y luego, por la calle, por mi antiguo barrio. Pensar en eso, en los críos de la calle, en mi hijo y sus amigos dentro de poco.
Su primera 'pintada'
Pensar en el Hip Hop, el nuevo Flamenco, el Ragga, las mezclas que están saliendo espontáneas a parte del mestizaje comercial.
Pensar en que, sin acercarse en absoluto a lo visto ahí, mi hijo va a estar expuesto a mucha mierda dentro de poco. Ya se ha encontrado con la xenofobia y el racismo en más de una ocasión. Niños que no querían jugar con él. Gente que me preguntaba si es realmente mi hijo, o '¿de dónde es?'-como '¿de dónde has sacado a este mulatito tan mono?'
Perderá la inocencia pronto. Me lo esconderá un tiempo. Ya estoy viviendo la adolescencia de Laida, la hija de Eva. Por cierto, fachilla la nena. Bandera española en la pared. Afirma tranquilamente que 'el único mulato o negro con el que se habla es Hugo'. Y cada día hay más skins de nuevo, tras una época relativamente tranquila.
Bueno. Corto un rato.
So I passed by Kosmopolis . Just for a while, as I can go in for free thanks to my 'Amics del CCCB' card. Passed by the bookcrossing section and got a book. Cursed myself a bit for not having brought a few books I would have liberated, and headed down to the Hall where they had some interesting projections. Walked half-way into Allen Ginsberg going maniac with some texts, and sat out the rest of "Poetry in Motion 2" really enjoying discoveries such as Helen Adam, a Beat Generation wild, enchanting poet who, now under a beautiful silver bobbbed hair and huge reading glasses, and wearing an incredible parsley outfit, was reciting and acting out, and ended singing madly her tales of a haunted flat she's renting to someone 'suitable, non-smoker, no children'... once she's got rid of her husband by slaughtering him! ;) Yessir, I'm gonna dig further into this discovery. Would thank any contributions -interesting links, book donations ;)
Then came "Resistencia: Hip Hop en Colombia" , a good documentary on Colombia's toughest side, everyday life in Medellin, Cali, Bogota's hardest outskirts -barrio de Las Cruces- and how politics, U.S., paramilitar troops and drug mafias are all fighting each other and driving the population to complete misery. Hip Hop is their escape. Without any money to buy records or music equipment, there's dozens of good MCs and Human Beatboxes, kids rapping in the street against drugs & guns in the hood, breakdancers telling us what it's all about, and graffitti artists with no money to buy spray cans.
Then it was the turn for "FREEDOM HIGHWAY", which I was not sure I could stay to watch completely but was really interested in, so I stayed for a while, and once they got to the Soweto choir singing the Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika and I broke into tears as usual with this chant, I thought 'enough is enough, babe, go to the cyber and check your stuff there!'
I remember my sister, when she was about 4 or 5, asking me what colour our mother's hair was, as she could not remember her well. That stuck in my mind, and I make sure I visit Hugo at my parents' every other weekend or so, not to let him drift away from me. I also remember my mother as quite a hippy those days, practicing a lower version of yoga with me on our lounge carpet, giving me an Asimov short stories collection to read being quite young, and making me study pages out of scientific divulgation books as a punishment, among other stuff. That was opposed by my Spanish, quite conservative, family and their style...
Me & my mom
Originally uploaded by okokitsme.
This is a pic I have always loved. It was taken at one of the few visits I remember my mother could afford during her main working season -hotel receptionist in the 70s, no days off!- and it was me feeling protected from the boring surroundings.
When I was younger still, most summers were in England. That was a completely different story. From a small flat in the middle of a tourist village, I went to this amazingly big -for me, then- house with a front & back garden, people who spoke the way I did, and an immersion in Upper-Middle-Class life, English Smalltown version: church every Sunday, Sundayschool and saints' cut-out figures, dancing around the Maypole.
Resulting in not quite fitting either among Spanish kids, nor English ones. Too Spanish for the English, too English to be Spanish.
I mean, just look at my summer beach, when I was actually living in the Costa Brava!
Originally uploaded by okokitsme.
Originally uploaded by okokitsme.
Been through a nostalgia trip -remembering Patricia again, for one thing. And Carlos. And Bernard, when he still *was* Bernard. His laughter. His stories. His eyes.
Originally uploaded by okokitsme.
Originally uploaded by okokitsme.
Mary-Anne & me at our silly, student days ;)
profile picture I chose. Though I think I may change it.
Am back to my junk food sessions ;)
Soooo unlucky I have a KFC opposite my regular cyber!
Waldo es un auténtico personaje salido de mis sueños. Existe en la vida real, y de hecho interactuamos a menudo -cada vez menos, pues las últimas veces que nos encontramos fueron desagradables para Hugo, quien no está preparado para según qué estados mentales.
Waldo es chileno. Pintor. Oveja negra de familia bien. Hermano de juez, de cirujano... y deambulando por el Gótico con un zapato de cada color y aspecto pordiosero. Es su 'difraz, para que no entiendan a quién tienen delante, y descartar a gente inútil que no me aportará nada'.
Waldo habla muchos idiomas. A menudo, y según su estado mental, los habla a la vez. Conmigo el problema empieza cuando intercala expresiones alemanas, aunque entre el ochentaymuchos y el noventaypocos tuvimos una época de hermanamiento que me hacía entenderle incluso cuando no reconocía el idioma al que había pasado.
Waldo ha resucitado varias veces.
Ha sobrevivido un ataque de skins confundiendo al Sargento Waldo 'con un mendigo cuaquiera, al estar reposando en el suelo', y los 'huevones me clavaron una navaja, pero no creían que un viejo como yo iba a llevar esta hebilla' y al gritar increpándoles los hizo escapar, quedando sólo con una pierna rota y un humor de perros cada vez que la ambulancia tenía que subir a su casa arrastrarle a las sesiones de recuperación.
También desapareció un largo rato de las calles y de nuestros bares, en una época alcoholizada y con problemas hepáticos, y corrió el rumor de que había sido ingresado de urgencias y con mal pronóstico. De repente, tras una operación y largo reposo volvió a aparecer, más sano que nunca e increpando a los coches que hacían más caso a los semáforos que al humano que no quería detener su paso porque sabía a dónde iba.
A veces pienso en Waldo.
Echo de menos su compañía, su conversación. Si nos cruzamos estando sola, y si me reconoce en ese momento, tomamos unos tés y hablamos de los encargos que ha 'producido' y los tesoros que hemos encontrado en los Encantes.
Pero si voy acompañada de mi hijo, he comprobado que debo ser otra más de las nenas hinchapelotas que siguen su camino, ignorando al Sargento.
Hugo seems to have inherited the best part of his father, which I'm really glad for, and the most surreal part of me ;)
Yesterday we were at the ciber, him playing some games while I was on my stuff... and when his session expired, I told him to play around with the Microsoft Paint, as it's free here.
He started off by doing something a bit mild, but then started covering it all with different coloured squares, Mondrian? ...then he started moving the squares around and making figures out of them ...Malevich?... he kept altering the picture, and every now and then, when he got at stages he liked, he'd ask me to have a look.
I was on Messenger to a guy who I only met once, who is an artist (?), and described a few of the stages of my son's drawing. I was really amazed at some of them. The other guy said I should print them, but at easyweb you can't... and anyway, he was offline so he couldn't save either. That's why Paint is for free ;)
As I went on with my stuff, my son suddenly said '¡Mira, mama, como Gaudi!' -he has a thing for Gaudi, partly 'coz of school info, mostly 'coz of our regular visits to admire the Sagrada Familia, or to make him see the beauty in Park Güell, the semi-organic integration of stone and plants, the inspiration... ^-^ me going japanese here ;) In fact, it was a bit gaudi-reminding in the sense he'd started playing with lines cracking the figures, then re-colouring them, and so making it look like one of those cracked tiles compositions ...then he went to make it quite cubist, after passing by the broken mirror effect... then started spraying and scratching and ended up almost in a Pollock!
Yes, I was missing my son.
Besides that, have already paid for the books and the PArents Association expenses for excursions and photocopies etc. Still have to pay for this month's lunch, for the Association itself, for the extracurricular activities... And buy a recorder! Hurray! endless sessions are ahead of tuneless practice :D
Ah, yes, and then the titbits: he got a pencil case -no, two!- for his birthday, and a satchel, but no new folder, etc so am gonna have to fork some more money out for that.
Yeah, Xavina and Manu are asking what they can buy him for his birthday, but if I say a recorder for school, itdoesn't seem 'birthday present' to either them or Hugo.
Let me groan.
Over a week ago I was with him. Went out and ended sleeping together, no sex, lots of love, lots of laughter, lots of intimacy.
After, as usual in him, he had a spree of phoning, sms-ing, keeping in touch and feeling he needed me. But as he couldn't admit, though we'd been talking it over, he was always sending the messages just too late, or not quite sure whether to meet or not.
This Friday he turned up at Magic.
'Twas our aniversary -11th sept. 2001, as the world was shocked in horror, we were discovering each other from sept. 10th till 12th. The 11th is a national holiday in Catalonia, and it was the first time we'd spend more than 24 hours together. I'd thought of sending him an sms to eat together on Saturday, or do something... but then he turned up at the disco, came rushing up to me happy to see me, and said 'I knew I'd catch you here!!'... just to see I was with another guy, Miquel. So we talked a bit, and then Miquel asked me if we could leave. So I left Joan there.
At 9 in the morning I received some sms from him, with his typical jokes. So he hadn't slept yet.
No further news.
In a way, it serves him right for how he used to hang out and have affaires while we were together, I always let him do what he wanted but didn't cheat on him. Now he sees how it feels to be disappointed, to feel alone.
Rumours that reached my ears say some of his friends are thinking he might want to come back to me.
Don't think I want to have such an intense story with him again. But maybe my way, this time. I'd had the feeling it may happen like this. And it would be my way.
Been through some of my fave songs
Prince's If I Was Your Girlfriend -so sweet, so tender, his other side:
If I Was Your Girlfriend
Reminds me of Nate. At the beguinning.
Almost seven years ago.
He used to fantasize about these things. Then it was him who reminded me of this song.
It also reminds me of how I feel about Joan. Now. Some times. Now?
- Offering to help without realising how long it will take to do something
- Even so, spending my Friday or Saturday nights solving other people's problems 'till 3 a.m., then going to meet my guy and he's no longer there
- Paying rounds for people who have more money than me, and then getting pissed off when they turn up with a beer for me after I bought them a whiskey
- Wasting time shuffling around blogs ;)
- Feeling guilty for minor lies I need to use
- Leaving it all 'till the last moment, expecting help from those who I've been helping at their last moment urges
- Not getting the promised helps, and contain my temper by shrugging my shoulders and hanging up the phone mid-conversation
- Looking the other way when someone disappoints me
- GIVING MORE THAN I GET BACK
Honestly... read their missions!!!!
It started off easily:
- Mescal 'El Gusano Rojo' is what I used to drink when was known as 'La Yanis' -spanish way to refer to Janice Joplin.
- 'Bombay' gin is what Luis used to insist in having in his Gin&tonics.
- 'Kardhu' or however you spell it is what Laida's first hangover was of.
...and so the game goes on ;)
Those days, if you liked a song but didn't have enough cash for the L.P. (the enormous version, with less songs than in a cd), then you could buy the single -which, confusingly enough, didn't have One Single Song, but usually two, or sometimes more. Because those days there where no MP3s, no Ipods... hell, there hardly were any computers around!!!
Not going into Maxis, E.P.s, etc. Enough history lesson.
But remember the concept. They were caled Singles, but actually had 2 songs. One on each side!!! And hence the B-track idea. People used to buy singles because of The Song. The A track. But you had some space on the other side, and had to use it.
Sometimes the B-tracks were the songs that didn't make the album -the L.P. Sometimes they were real crap. Or remixes of the original song -quite favoured inthe 80s. Yet some other times the B-tracks where the less comercial, more adventurous songs. Some have proven to be, as years passed by, much better songs than the popular hit of the moment, the A track. So out came compilations of B-tracks. The real stuff, less controled.
Anyway. All this is just to say, from now on this blog has a B Track . Don't know how it's gonna work. But it shall keep this A-track saner. I think.
Bernard. Luis. LoLo. Gorka. Jaime. Jaume. Joan. Nacho.
Bukowsky would fit in perfectly, of course.
Strong characters. Alcohol and/or drug as daily companion.
Men who are not quite out of it, but are not totally there. Not integrated in society as one ois supposed to be.
Me likes the strong character men. Me likes creative men. Me likes guys you can hardly mistake. Me likes trouble. Me can't come crying then.
Dionysos , remember?
Yma Sumac. Frida Kahlo. Janis Joplin.
Anabel. Isabel. Pat-trisha. Falikovich.
Me likes the strong character women. Me likes Da Women around me. Me likes women who know what they are not... much more important than knowing what they are. So what if they're in psichiatric treatment? (two of the above are for sure. Another one really needs it) One looks like Frida.
Me likes trouble. Me is not for easy comfort.
Tom Waits strikes that string, makes me at my closer circle.
Am listening to him a lot again. Moi, j'aime ça.
Can you imagine falling in love with TW? Well, take any of the guys in the list. But you won't be able to take them too far. That's the fun.
Maaaaaaann, then there's the Nick Cave thing. The Dark Side.
Have you read 'And the Ass Saw the Angel'???
Me has. 3 and a half times.
And then there is Raffaella Carra.
(Xavina, Dudu... Me)
Mix and match.
Bataille, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Epicurus.
Ataraxia used to seem my goal... but how can I seek it with my Dionysiac frame of mind?
huh... did I say I've been listening to Tom Waits for the last 4 hours, 'Random Selection' on my discman?
Good night, ladies. Ladies, good night. It's time to say goodbye.
-Now Joan springs up from his couch with his eyes expecting Karma's lights turning on.
Most of them were in special offers, at Happy Books, Fnac and Gong. But two were not. Two of these purchases were full-price, and am sure I could have found them cheaper. But I just had to buy them. Which? Why?
Ymasumac-esque, if you allow the expression. Her choreographies to Yma Sumac's music, with fire dancing on her body, are worth remembering. And my 24th birthday party, with a bizarre soundtrack, was recurrent on this tape, every 2 or 3 other albums. And Anabel's appearence, art and temper are also totally Ymasumac-esque. In fact, we are in another of our usual periods of distance, after one of our flammable arguements, but no doubt we shall drift together again. Sometime.
Bukowsky, on the other hand, is to me Falikovich, a.k.a. Deborah, the young girl who used to hang around me admiringly until she realized it was me who admired her! It was with her that I started our preformance group, with her that I was filming shots of this and that, making happenings at trendy discos, interviewing the cool at their uncoolest moments... Her writings were really good, her energy too. She had me as a mentor, her image of The Woman. I had her as a younger, fresher version of me. She was always reading and quoting Bukowsky. I never thought much of his books. Am reading him now, to honour her memory. No, she's not dead. She's learning to play an instrument. She made me guess, and I did on my second try. First I said the Triangle -she's totally unmusical!. Then I said the trombone.
What else have I bought? Quite a few things. Like, in CDs:
- Suzanne Vega's 99.9 Fº -saw it reduced and smiled, it reminded me of someone...
- Motown Meets The Beatles -One of those cases of guessing there shall be at least one or two good tracks.
- One of the many Janis Joplin's greatest hits compilations. This one is, actually, Janis Joplin's Greatest Hits. -Many people knew me in the early nineties as 'La Yanis', due to looks and attitude? -but not as an alcoholic!*
- Frank's Wild Years, one of the many Tom Waits albums I was still missing
- Bjork's Vespertine
- Bunbury's Pequeno Cabaret Ambulante
- The famous and yet still fun listening to Blood Sugar Sex Magik , by Red Hot Chilli Peppers
- Tom Waits' Used Songs: 1973-1980
- THE LONG TRIP- a prehistory of psychedelia, by Paul Devereux -Note the link is to a Fortean Times review ;)
- Camus' L'Etranger, in French! ;D
- Two biographies: Basquiat: A Quick Killing in Art, by Phoebe Hoban, and Sex & Drugs & Rock'n'Roll: The Life Of Ian Dury, by Richard Balls. Which is what I'm reading now, as I just finished Factotum.
- And Vikram Seth's Riot at Misri Mandi, an extract from A suitable boy -one of those Phoenix little books for 1 euro, that are really handy to see if you like the style of authors you've never read. I do ;)
*Yes, the nickname came from the crowd at my flat on Escudellers: djs, musicians, journalists, plastic artists -man! I remember Dani's clay fingermarks all over my radio/cassette player! I think the original idea came from Albert, then singer with The Flashback V, later kicked out as far as I learnt, when I came accross them again through Luis.
By the way, -Remember this song?
It's one of the three songs I kept getting played as a salute, when entering a bar o small disco with some dj friend of mine. Also some friends would play it when I walked into their home parties.Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,So Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?Oh Lord, won't you buy me a color TV ?Dialing For Dollars is trying to find me.I wait for delivery each day until three,So oh Lord, won't you buy me a color TV ?Oh Lord, won't you buy me a night on the town ?I'm counting on you, Lord, please don't let me down.Prove that you love me and buy the next round,Oh Lord, won't you buy me a night on the town ?
Everybody!Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends,Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,So oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
The other two were:
- Nancy Sinatra's These Boots Were Made For Walking -Luis used to ply it looking at me with a grin at his Tuesday Mod&80s sessions
- Nina Hagen's New York New York -Carlos, at Karma, used to let me know he'd spotted me on the dance floor by playing this and sitting back to watch me go wild ;)
THIS IS GOING TO BE THE MANIC SIDE.
- I may mix languages.Be warned.
- I may not post for ages
- I may just link stuff...
It is a way to keep the other blog within its line, more or less...and this be my more private (?) schyzo blog.
Or maybe not.
He realized he has me on his side. Whatever. Whenever. He realizes he loves me, he knows who I am and where I am at.
We had a really close night. Laughing. Gossiping. Lying. Admitting. Catching up with things. Those little things. He knew I'd laugh at his Coke Light in the fridge. 'What the hell???!!!'. I knew he'd laugh at my teenager approach towards N, and how I can't get him out of my mind, nor dare move closer to him.
He was jealous when he realized I'm in love. He wanted to know how long I've been this mad about N. I am no longer jealous of his girlfriend, that is over. But I am a bit sick to know who else he is with... and was jealous when he was admiring for an hour a girl at the disco we were then...
He's proud of me, and is glad to introduce me to his friends I hadn't met yet and we bumped into. I'm so glad I met him. He boasted about the guy who asked after me at a music bar, and said he was drooling like Homer when he sees a doughnut. He counts on me as his girl; I count on him as my guy. Corny. True.
He knew before I told him which advertising spot is my pet hate, I knew before he said which one was his.
Good job we didn't lose this. It is the main part of our relationship. Sex is elsewhere, but intimacy is rare.
Am still in awe with electricinca's way of using the Comments on the pictures: I'd advise you to read the story...
So I am renewing my belief in the other world, full of creative people, I thought was long lost.