Ouch

It is not funny when the "that`s gotta hurt" is applicable to me.

>Crack...<

Pag 134

"No había nada, en ninguna parte, que envidiar, ni que lamentar, ni que temer. El pasado, el porvenir, el amor, la dicha, eran solo ruidos que se hacían con la boca".

@SB

Then again...

Or... Maybe I should just shoot me in the head, a common feeling after reading a post like the last one.

Oh my meaningless existance. I slept mostly o.k. I cooked breakfast. I randomly took a book and started reading. It was Simone de Beauvoir. It was "La invitada". Keep at it for a while. I usually keep at it until I found an exquisite pharagraph. But I didnt found it.

Then, work, the classic saturday stress... It is 21:33 and still waiting. I should go. But to what?

I was 15 and my aunt told me once, you have a question mark in your forehead. I´m 29 now, and I hope I´m not supposed to know now, because the question mark is bigger then ever.

Something beautiful

Have you seen the sky today? It is so beautiful that it almost hurts.

I hope you had. And I also hope you are being loved this day.

I wonder what happens with the love that is not delivered, since I decided to stop fighting against what I feel and let my heart love you, even though it is the more scariest thing I have ever done, even though I will be not loved back.

It is funny, what I feel.

I have cried less. Altought I have sudden explotions. But I am more calm, more seren. Well, only a little more, to be honest. Most of the time I need to run to whatever you are. Most of the time I feel this endless love is going to kill me.

But what will happen with it, with the undelivered love? What is it, anyway? An illusion? There is a sentence... "What have you done for me to love you?" that is spinning in my head all the time, and seems like needles in my heart, or a hammer always hitting, stabbing something deeper and deeper into my soul.

There is another: "Love is selfish". I dont know. I just dont know. I wish I knew what to do. All I know is I love you, and I will not fight it. Maybe it fades with time, maybe it dies like a flower, a flower whom bigger stupidity was to be born in the wrong time, in the wrong place. Oh but flowers die all the time, dont they? Maybe all these undelivered love will transform me in a tree.

Trees last. Trees are strong.

Burning

How do I not tell you I've never seen poetry in anyone's eyes but yours?

How do I stop me?

How do I...

How?

Uh?

Symantec Antivirus May Execute Virus Code. Oookkk.

Started reading "Donde el corazón te lleve" today, by Susanna Tamaro. Heh. I saw the movie long ago, because it was directed by the same girl who did "Las memorias de Antonia".

I just wanted a light reading I guess. Bueh I am a woman after all... Actually the book is not that bad. It has his moments. Pag 59 so far. I predict I´ll finish it by midnight. Friday midnight, tops.

Jeez, why do I feel I have to justify about reading it? >:*)

I hate sports, and I am hostil to sport journalists. Is that so hard to understand? Die! Dissapear!

Begin transcript:

MS. MORNIN: That's good, because I work three jobs and I feel like I contribute.

THE PRESIDENT: You work three jobs?

MS. MORNIN: Three jobs, yes.

THE PRESIDENT: Uniquely American, isn't it? I mean, that is fantastic that you're doing that. (Applause.) Get any sleep? (Laughter.)

Assh*le...

LTR

Silenciemos "Sabor a mi", que ha empezado a girar en el fonógrafo, allá en el sótano de mi cabeza tempestad. Reemplazemoslo con streaming. Reemplazemoslo con un trance remix de... de lo que sea. Pero ya. Es urgente. Su eco rebota en las paredes de mi piel, las notas salen por todos mis poros, las letras se resbalan por mis órganos, sale del sotano, como un fantasma, como niebla, como brisa, como humo, lo envuelve todo, lo llena todo y de repente, tengo gotas de rocío en la piel y de mis labios salen pájaros y luz y sol y primavera y pétalos azules y miel y luna y luciérnagas y besos y poesía y veranos y nubes y viento y parece que soy feliz, pero es un espejismo.

Un espejismo y un fonógrafo en un rincón.

Uh Oh

Human cloning licence awarded to Dolly creator.

Air on a G string

Interesante como podemos ser, al mismo tiempo, un cúmulo de emociones desbordadas, y un témpano de hielo.

iPod Orgy

I mean, RAID.

Autorretrato con máscaras

James Ensor just reminded me of the story of "El loco", by Khalil Gibran...

Danny

"No te abrazo más fuerte porque traigo lastimado el brazo".
@Danny

I just love this kid.

Non fiction

Entonces intento respirar, y arrugo la frente en un rictus de dolor. Un par de tenazas al rojo vivo aprisionan mi corazón. Parece que se ha detenido. Como si de una bomba de tiempo se tratara, el conteo regresivo ha terminado, va a explotar...

Pero no, se queda al límite, me tortura mientras en medio de un delirio, tu nombre se me sale de las yemas de los dedos tranformándose en jilgueros de tinta, volando sobre una hoja de papel en blanco.

Vuela en mis venas, tu nombre.

Tu nombre, imborrable marca al rojo vivo en mi conciencia.

La danza de las horas

Hoy, que la Luna tiene un color ceniciento; hoy, que me dice cosas tan ambiguas el viento, a cuyo paso eriza su cabellera el mar; hoy, que las horas tienen un sonido más lento, hoy quisiera llorar.

Hoy, que la noche tiene una trágica duda en que vaga en la sombra una pregunta muda; en que se siente que algo siniestro va a venir, que se baña en el pecho la tristeza desnuda, hoy quisiera morir. "

@JME

LTR

Es cómico, pero las palabras que te ayudan a vivir al otro le ayudan a matarte.

@OE

Elegy

Awesome. (QT video. 2 minute film featured at Slamdance Festival).

Who are the Digerati?

And why are they "the cyber elite"? Hmmm I think this needs an update.

Testing Audioscrobbler features. Personal radio. Test 1. Test 2. Test 3 and working perfect.

How else would I be listening to "The Verve"?

Tuesday, be nice.

(Score:5, Funny)

Ahem, I am Slashdot Moderator... >:*o

Cluster

Nietzsche the one. Tyler the second. Cluster the third.

Retro

Google on 1998.

]Bright Eyes[

So, this will be my first CD of 2K5. That is, if I can found it here.

Wating for two blue pills to work against this damn cold... What an ugly day indeed, three times I was about to cry. Two of them actually a tear come out. But I managed.

Day started reading El hombre mediocre, by Jose Ingenieros, followed by work and more work... Took a couple of minutes to go out for fresh air, to breathe, and found myself walking between melancholy walls and buildings.

At the left, passing by, was an old men, holding a bunch of balloons on his hand, and all I could think was my pockets, where I had all my dishope, and wished I could let it fly away like a balloon to the sky.

I briefly smiled, lowered my head, kicked a stone, and kept walking. With my hands in my pockets.

Didn`t work. It was still there.