URBAN MELANCHOLY

When I'm sad I long for the past, when everything seemed safe.
When I listen to trucks blowing their horns I feel safe.
When I see red lights I feel safe.
When I smell gas I feel safe.
When I listen to cars running in the distance, buses, motorcycles and horns I feel safe.
When I see light coming through the window at night I feel terribly safe.
I fear silence, darkness, stillness. I need noise to meditate. I need steps in the dark, meowing cats, some distant barking. Lamp posts that insolently intrude in the room like an obnoxiously obsessive mother make me feel safe.

TIGER

I want to live with a tiger.
I was going to say "have a tiger", but you don't "have" tigers.
Tigers have to be free and they have to choose you to live with.
Tigers are strong and they can look after you but they have to care for you.
I want to live with a tiger.
I want to open the door and get received by a huge tiger hugging me.
I want to sleep with a snoring tiger by my side.
I want to read with a tiger trying to catch my attention.
I want to find my house door torn open because the tiger stopped someone from getting in.
I want to fall asleep on top of the soft fur of the tiger.
I keep wanting to write "my tiger" and I remember I can't own one.
I can invite the tiger.
I can offer food. I can offer shelter. I can offer endless love, but if I call him "mine" he'll flee away because you don't own tigers.

I MISS BEING IN LOVE

I miss knowing as soon as I wake up that someone somewhere is thinking of me.
I miss wondering suddenly what he is doing now.
I miss wondering if he'd like this or that ice cream flavor.
I miss sleeping and being unable to dream because life is too good.
I miss smiling when listening to the ringtone of my cell
I miss paying particular attention when migraine ads appearing on TV
I miss wondering if a particular coffee would suite you fine
I miss hanging from his huge arms
I miss flying in his arms
I miss flying in his lips
I miss flying.

CASO PERDIDO

Ya sé, ya sé, ya sé que no iba a pensar más en romances y eso, pero no puedo evitarlo y más con tan poco trabajo como en estos días. Pienso, y mucho, en todo, en todos. Bueno, no en todos, todos, solo en dos, el más reciente y estúpido y en el más lejano y bueno, el único con quien me habría casado y por quien habría cruzado el océano.
Leyendo un artículo en Internet me encontré de frente con la pregunta, ¿De qué te arrepentirías de no haber hecho si este fuera tu último día? Y de inmediato, apareció Sean en mi mente y desde adentro me puse gris y triste. No he ido a Inglaterra, nunca lo vi, nunca nos tomamos un café, nunca pasó lo que siempre soñamos, encontrarnos en el aeropuerto. Y por eso no creo en el secreto famoso de pedirle al universo las cosas y que todo se alineará para que sucedan. Luego pensé, si se va Sean es porque el que viene va a ser así como lo máximo. Y el destino me manda al peor patán del mundo. Ya me enojé.

LA HAINE

A veces siento que disfruto odiar y no está padre.

NO WAY

Each time I miss him I have to repeat to myself he is not for me, we tried and we didn't succeed, we tried twice and it was not good. He is not good for me. He is not good. Not good. NOT.

THE OTHER EXPERIENCE

Soon to be the title of yet another new blog this is about being "the other". I have discovered it is not romantic at all, you have to be... I don't know if really grown up or really immature, but very unbound, untied and extremely careless, you have to adopt the philosophy of enjoying the moment regardless of any other consequence or knowing the consequences. Being "the other" is definitely not glamorous, not liberated. It's plainly stupid, immature and sordid. Nothing to be proud of, nothing to tell your grandchildren, nothing worthy of remembrance... unless you learned the lesson. To learn more see the new blog.