2010-12-07

Odio es amor truncado

Today, it seems, is a day for the past to rear it’s ugly head. You saw two such reminders, all within thirty minutes. Rather than dwell on the negativity they could bring up why not reflect on how you have changed and become a better person from those people and the experiences they created.

What is love without hate?
Is it anything at all?
Does love lose its importance without its opposite?

First there was the Indian girl. You ran into her on the streetcar ride to campus, she was leaving work. Apparently she had returned from Arizona. Despite all the time between she remembered where you used to live with the puta. It was, of course, right across the street. Silly you asked if she was still friends with the puta, to which you were surprised to hear yes and even that the Indian girl had spent Thanksgiving with her. Terrible feelings surfaced and you felt that familiar pesadez tapping on your soul. Fuck those bitches. Despite the years, the thought of her makes your blood run cold.

The second run-in was short, but still bitter on your part. It was that stupid boy, who said stupid things and still gives you stupid looks. It’s just stupid.  Don’t say what you don’t mean, after all. He’s still cute, even cuter maybe. Passing by him in the rain, him with his darting eyes and passive-aggressive silence reminded you of his boyfriend, the other man, yet another bitch. 


As it has been said: 
within the fool’s eyes lies love,
Love lies and al final, love truncated is just hate.  

2010-12-01

חג שמח



"A menorah is, uh, like the nightlight of our people. In times of 
darkness it shines on the whole world reminding us not to be afraid to 
be different, but to be proud who we are. "
--Schlomo, Rugrats Chanukkah Special


Felis Janúca a todos!





2010-11-25

The Georgia Rain

Ay ay ay, sometimes I wonder why I left this beautiful country and moved to the disgustingly damp Northwest. Then I met my sister's boyfriend last night and remembered. People here are charming, charmingly deceitful, until you get a few Coronas in them and happen to mention "global warming." Then it's all fucked. Fortunately my lesbian cousin is here so we can commiserate on pretending to be corn-fed heterosexuals. Also, there is no such thing as kosher in the South. More on that later.


Also, I would love to do Chris Messina.

2010-11-14

Lo que quiero







"Question:


Can a smile
lead to a hello


And a hello
lead to a first date and


a first date to a can't wait
to do it again?"


--Raheem Devaughn

2010-11-11

Putas tristes

Hoy te vi inesperadamente  pasando por la calle. No me veías porque estaba colgado en el tren. Estuviste vestido de azul, mi color favorito. Era en aquel momento que me caí en la cuenta que no te echaba de menos y que soy mejor sin ti. Habrá sido dos años en febrero que separamos.

Hace mucho tiempo en que volvía a pensar en ti. A veces sopesaba si pensabas en mi, pero creía que no.  Así me dejaste solo, sin palabras suficientes ni la voluntad de llorar. No sé exactamente que quedaba en mi corazón después de ti pero que va…Ya no me importa.

A la vez es interesante verte así, caminando solo. ¿Qué haces ahora? ¿Qué piensas? ¿Estás solo o no? Ahora que no te espero algo mal como antes, espero que estés feliz por lo menos. Yo he logrado todo lo que quiero después de ti y por cierto que no hagas nada a mi corazón. No amor, ni vergüenza, ni odia. Es interesante, sí.

Te daba mucho de mi. Me fascinaba tu rostro, tus mejillas, tu sonrisa…Escribí un poema para ti pero nunca te entregué. Que dijeras si lo leíste? No acabaríamos entonces? Pero sé bien que no te amé. 



2010-11-02

un deseo

Patent leather shoes
Bubble tea mornings

Smiling for no reason
In my head: diálogos em português

And...
Wishing you sunny days.


2010-10-18

A story about you and them


And so the boy with the Caribbean-blue pants ran far, far away into a new land, never to return.
He lived happily ever after. 

Or so it was believed. 

...................................

The reality was a bit different, however. The boy, whom we will call George, found himself in a strange world. The City. It was not as vast as some, but the City was a foreign land to George. The language spoken around him was his own yet he did not understand its speakers. There, no one smiled. They made the face motions, to be sure, but they were not smiling.
Not even their eyes smiled.  

It was a cold place, with its grey skies and unfriendly denizens.

George wanted to make the best for himself there in the City. So he attended university, to expand his mind. George began to smoke cigarettes and drink whiskey in secret. These things his parents didn’t read.  Instead, his parents grew so proud as he regaled them of a happier, false life within his myriad letters East.

George also made friends in the City; he tried to surround himself with kind genuine people so as not to be lonely. Yet years would pass and the always drifted apart. It was their way there.

This saddened George.

Lovers were even worse. George felt constantly spurned by their cold manner. He felt alien in his bright clothes, the fabled azure pants he loved so much. George felt used by those who did find him charming and backwards. The sex was never happy.

But George did not complain. He bore the unbearable winters alone in his flat, sipping tea and dreaming of Southern winds. The whiskey had lost its attraction so he lost himself in those blue-tinted dreams of warm sand and spicy food. George had slowly lost his accent and was in danger becoming as cold as the City. It was the end of one such a gloomy wintertime that George met Sam.

Sam. The two met by chance, growing closer and more intimate through weekly letter and phone calls.  Their lovemaking was brief yet cherished. George loved him with all his heart. George had never met a person that treated him the way Sam did. He had never felt such a way before. He was alive for the first time since he had come to the City. Their summer together was beautiful. Sam gave George his love and with it George got his will back.

Sadly their story was not to last, in fact it never really started. Sam journeyed away across an ocean with little promise of return…and just like that George was broken again.

The friends that had remained began to fade away, consumed with their own more interesting lives. George’s only companion was Alba at this time. George felt lost despite this.

Alba was afraid that George was disappearing, and it was true. Yet she did not really know how much. George’s heart had been shattered; it was too severe to be repaired. He was like an empty gourd. No sweet pulp left inside, just a hard dry shell.  He was like the others in the City now. He was just another empty person.

George tried to find solace in Alba’s love and friendship but he constantly pushed her away, fearing that she too would abandon him…though he was the one abandoning her.

They grew apart, until one day…George was gone. He didn’t die.  He didn’t run away, he didn’t disappear…he was just no longer there. No one noticed, not a single soul. That was George’s happily ever after.

Only the City remained.
And so ends the tale of the boy with the blue pants.