Mi

I love the eighties

The waiting room

If its a reflexion of society we are in for a not so wholesome treat. If its a reflexion of the future, ditto. An obligated leisure is accompanied with the worst choices. Sloth, played by the common individual. The individual that arduously or not, is free at 10am on a summer Monday. They are scattered in a small squared room with an enormous plasma tv that was surprizingly shut off waiting to be called by a random person part of a tellership line. The characters are redundant usually. If it were a reality show, it would only have one episode, probably similar to this one. Several mothers, two or three single persons, a father and his daughter and a grandma. When it comes to choosing leisure activities, the first ones on the list are the single people. What do they choose? For starters the waiting room already provides an easy answer to our question. According to mere sex (age and society) usually women fall to the pit. They grab cheeky magazines, they read gossip, they watch the pictures and read the fake articles. If they could suck the magazine, they would. If the selection of magazines is vast, a selective look at the pictures will do. The more, the better. In this particular case, the only single man in the room was staring at nothingness. His existence could be obviated because, according to experts, his mind was probably blank and his purpose in life diffused. Their neurons are debilitated by the lack of activity in their brains, and even if they knew this, they would not act upon it for it would probably mean too much work. In an even worse stage is the father that with his daughter present, chooses to keep his sunglasses on and without much effort to disguise his will, he stares at the breasts of the female in front of him. A perverted yet open mind could suggest his neurons are not so wasted for he carries a conversation with his daughter while doing so and for this types of males, multitasking is not common. Though, it is important to remember these specific types of multitasking can be taught. The association of both activities, if practiced regularly, create a pathway in the brain that makes this activity a practically innate act. He is oblivious to the fact that the potential breasts of his daughter will become the protagonist of this perverted cycle. The grandmother character, only because of age, can be exempt from criticism. The worst character of them all, (in personal opinion) is one of the mothers. For she shamelessly punishes her children every minute. Consciously or not, she blames her children for their own birth. It is a live abortion before my eyes, performed by the own mother, on what would seem like a daily ritual. On her free minutes she ignores them and stares at me. I feel her bashful eyes drawing half moons around the room, when I catch her. I could guess that she envies me, but that would be too easy. If her neurons are severely wasted, she probably stares at me, just because I am in front of her. I stare back because of curiosity. She could have been staring at the book in my hands or puzzled by my writing ability. An ability rewinded in her life in angry attempts to teach her abortion-babies to write. The other mother talks to her child while and her teenager child, talks back. It would be a wholesome picture that could save the scene (in addition to the grandma) that is sadly damaged by the cellular phone on the child hands and her ability to respond and play with it. We are all part of the same hell. Part of this society and guilty of what it has become. It would be great if in addition to the leisure activities they have chosen for this particular Monday morning, they would be multitasking a thoughtful brain, looking forward to stimulate their neurons and create hope.

Mark Ronson ft. Lily Allen!!!! Hell yess

Musical me

I miss it. Come back! Lets draw songs and dry out the world with our words. Let everything cease and make it fall again perfectly with the rain. While we drink up the feelings and sing it magnanimously.

Drivin me wild

Cidade des Homens (com Acerola e Laranja)

Before and After

The Mars Volta lv lv

The Beatles lv lv

Half blood Prince

(2x2) + ... = 6

They were two. Both born on the number two and the 2 began a series of 6. Both part of the same generation. They shared the beginnings of what would become more than 20 years of clay monsters and clay disasters. The blood that linked them, drew similar gestures on their faces, frequently confused by an amnesic society. Their bodies ached in unison. The childhood bruises and scars were suffered probably at the same time and sometimes caused by the other. They disagreed and later sometimes agreed... Now, several years later and with the skin sinked in to remember, they had become 6.

Alergia 2

No me deja vivir. Me ahogo en una atmósfera alérgica que me embrutece. Los ojos se me derriten hacia dentro y la sociedad abundante me desespera. La calma me llega cuando me arranco el pelo, cuando me aplasto los ojos contra el cráneo. Poco a poco mientras me estiro la cara con todo material flexible que pueda penetrar mi nariz hasta alcanzar el cielo, muero. Dormir es el escape, la negación. El deseo de que algún día esto se acabe.

Blond haired Seal

The floor was still the same. The feet were a bit larger and older. When they were younger they zoomed triggered by darkness and the creatures of the night. As time passed, they slowed down and the creatures shushed. The pathway became comfortable. Once a year it led to Christmas. When the steps fade the pathway still remembers. If the visitor forgets its magical attributes the pathway echoes Christmas in its memory the remaining 11 months. So every time the pathway is frequented the pine tree is seen and smelt back from oblivion. The childlike Christmas spirit is awakened yet the floor is still the same.

First d8

She snapped her lips incessantly not knowing she was swallowing bits of her new fruity lip gloss. Her lips were shapely yet she thought they needed a boost this time. The rest of her makeup was toned down. She almost looked as if she had none. If any of her long time friends had seen her, they would have found it odd. She always wore a lot of really colorful makeup, specially on occasions like these. Her nails were long and her manicurist had suggested a tiny little detail on the tip of both of her ring fingers. It was a small umbrella with a beach ball beside it. She looked at her nails for distraction. Her hands were normally filled with small bruises and her nails were usually cut really short. As she looked at them, she knew that normally she would be bothered by the insane detail on her ring fingernails. Though this particular day, it did not bother her that much. Probably because she lingered around the thought that maybe this is the type of thing this type of male likes.

She was not used to this type of male. This particular type of male, she thought, would enjoy this particular type of women. As he approached her, she looked at her fingernails again and for less than a second she hated the idea of having two sets of identical beach gear on her nails.

... (t.b.c)

Juliet

Where for art thou? Dreamer, eager, hopeful, dead.

...

Wall-e!

Anuncio no pagado

My computer is silver. It has a silver mouse pad and a silver large button in the bottom. It has 78 silver keys that light up whenever I want them to. It has two speakers at each side. The off button, also the sleep button, resides at the top of the right speaker.

My silver computer goes to sleep when I tell her to. It has a small little light that turns on and off with a breathing pattern.

My computer belongs to me. It has traveled with me and has dried many of my tears. She lets no viruses disturb us nor she allows any spam to kill herself. She watches the movies I watch, she listens to the same music I like.

My computer has a big mysterious bump. She has some little scratches I've caused. When I use her she usually sends the same fruity message to everyone else. Or maybe she's just quoting the bible and making a statement.

My computer has no sex. The female attributes in this text were randomly given probably because of the translation of the word in Spanish.

My computer heats up when she's tired but she never complains. She never makes me cry or judges me. She fits my painful hands perfectly and silently devours my thoughts and converts them into senseless words.

Liberan a Ingrid Betancourt

Gracias al ejército de su país, Colombia, Ingrid Betancourt fue liberada junto a otros rehenes secuestrados por la FARC. La antigua candidata a presidencia fue secuestrada hace 6 años.

Que tiempo se vive

Pensamos que llegar mas rapido es mejor
olvidamos lo que esta entre medio
Cortamos el mogote pa llegar a tiempo
pero que tiempo se vive que tiempo?

oh oh u oh

y hoy me fui a anda con mente descalza
andar sin pausa y sin miedo
salí lleno de preguntas, sin expectativas solo con sed.

(Coro)
Dos copas de luna, una de sol
y no fue insomnio
Dos copas de luna, una de sol
alzaron mi vista para entender

Que tomamos tanto por sentando
en especial nuestro campo verde
y el gran Hector Lavoe lo dijo cantando
(el cantante de los cantantes, Hector Lavoe dijo...)
que nada, nada dura para siempre, oh no no

Y hoy me fui a buscar donde está el relajo
pues la presión me trae abajo
salí sin pensarlo mucho, sin ningun plan justo
solo con sed.

(coro)

que el dinero no se come , la moneda no se respira
no nos da sombra y tampoco nos da vida no,no no no no no no eh ah
pero pensamos que llegar mas rapido es mejor no no no,
olvidamos lo que esta entre medio eh eh y eh ah ah ah
cortamos cada monte pa llegar a tiempo
pero que tiempo se vive hoy .
ay mira dime que dime que dime que tiempo oh hoy
dime que tiempo se vive oh hoy

(coro)

(jam)
que pa llegar a tiempo... tomamos tanto por sentado no no no no, oh oh oh
Dos copas de luna una de sol, me hicieron entender, y ver y ver oh oh oh
Sin pausa y sin miedo , vamos sin pausa y sin miedo,
digo que voy sin pausa y sin miedo diciendo lo que quiero!
oh u oh uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu