Friday, February 27, 2009

anonymous talk.-

And in our dialogue,
which seemed to be the one two people having an affair, while being at a dinner party with their respective spouses in the same room, would have: in secrecy
she said: “I don’t know when or how he became so disconnected, not to mention inattentive, he would even leave without saying he is, I feel like I am a stranger to him, not even when we started dating was he so restrained around me”…

Couldn’t help myself and said: “it’s the f***g season”, afterward only listened, and thought: “what’s the big deal? - aren’t they all the same?”

But standing next to me, there was one who is not like that at all, never was and hasn’t change (…let’s say yet, just in case), so no, I took it back, they’re not ALL the same.

She said: “we used to communicate, or so I thought, we could talk about everything but I see now that is as worth as sign language when you don’t know the 1st thing about it, …he walks away from conversation, from banal to insightful”

Intrigued, I asked her why she thinks he does that or if he has told her why?

She replied: “he says he’s tired, I don’t understand!, drained with that? Being an egotistical imbecile who f***s up and expects me not to react?"

So I went straight for the jugular “are you fighting a lot? Analyzing, evaluating, adding letters to numerical equations?”

Her answer: “there’s nothing to fight about, apparently I signed a clause, prohibiting me to touch Pandora’s box, I didn’t even knew there was one..”

I: “why would anyone touch it?”, she reacted as if I meant the opposite, so had to elaborate: “you don’t go there because you want to, no one wants drama, …-I’ve said that so many times in the last few months I’m starting to believe there are people who actually like creating drama-, “the box is open, and the light is blinding you, so why not close it?”, “why can’t people think, damn, believe, you want closure for it?...why they have to assume you want it open lying around…
Freaking light hurts the eyes!”

We both laugh.

He: walks by, we greet, it’s been a while, he’s a nice guy, just as f***d as we all are, the problem is he hides it so damn well is hard to believe he has a worry in the world, and that, right there, is part of the problem, probably the biggest part: dealing with people with such quality makes it hard to understand their behavior, are they ok? Are they mad at you? Or someone else? Did something happen? How can that be, he seems so “cool”; and in the end, it’s the same when it comes to the knowledge of their feelings towards their “significant other”.

He walks away.-

She: “should I keep looking the other way?”

-I LAUGHED-
I did, just one big laugh and stopped as soon as I realized it, apologized immediately, and without waiting for her to ask me for advice, I said: babe, run, and run fast, cuz’ it’s downward spiral from there, unnecessary …complicated things I could not describe.

She said “I know, I know”,
To which I replied:
“no you don’t and you’ll try to make it work looking the other way, and after a while you, hopefully quite soon, realize it’s getting you (both) nowhere, not to mention: that’s not even you, and you’ll be exhausted of feeling taken for granted and your neck will be as sore as your pride and self-worth;
And if you do see things for what they are, you’ll be able to stop it before it gets awry, for he has things to deal with or sort out, just like you have your own, and I’m certain being emotionally involved with someone who seems to not be involved with his own feelings, is walking backwards to the things you are coming from”

she said: “it’s hard for him to express his emotions”

I said : “and that’s perfectly “normal” for some, I might be off here, but not for such as you and I”
She: “I wanted it to work, I’m extremely tired from trying now”

I: “It’s the season, but it’s not that cold yet, and it’s always better to close the door in the better terms, so all good things won’t be corrupted by these intruders”

She: “I don’t want him to think I walked away from him, or gave up easily”

I: “at the risk of sounding bitchy: is one of his issues being a complete moron?, I don’t think so; we always know when we f**k things up, we’re just too proud or idiotic to face it, he knows he’s pushing you away, besides you already told him the effect of his actions upon your feelings” “also remember,….people are not to be fixed, electronics are”, “call it, if it’s time to do so, but nicely or just implicit, …walk, ..you care for him so there’s no need to be a bitch or hater, be mature enough to offer your friendship and act like one..”

She says abruptly: “he has hurt me in many ways, I’m sore, bitterer cuz’ I cannot even speak to him”
I said: “then be polite…at least, your education demands you to be at least civilized”, “if you feel like that, you must understand you have to get the hell out”

And aside all obvious reasons …being involved in a marathon in search of answers and justifications is a classic battered wife symptom. (the prelude)

So what if, it’s better to not even bother asking? You expect and search for reasons, explanations and all sorts of “communication” as to why things are the way they are, and you’re probably REALLY looking, desperately, for a comprehensive validation to keep you from walking away, and put an end to something that you love to have when you have it, and cry yourself to sleep when not…, so what’s for the better?

When did it happened that our emotional state of mind revolves around other’s capacity or lack of, to treat us “right”, …softly, lovingly, …

(probably around the same time we had to create “religions”, to reassure beliefs and faith, in order to give us some peace or comfort for all the things we lack and pray to overcome each day, or once a week, or when a loved one passes away..) – such a…. subject-

When emotions seem to be directly connected to what someone else might or might not do or say: the problem is on this side of the equation. Same thing when ..it’s mutilating your emotional attitudes, with the difference of the affecting blackmail involved:

“el chantaje emocional”
Personally, I dread any sign, -hell that’s an understatement-, it horrifies me, anything that might suggest something like that
(like mom says: “algo anda mal si en lugar de amor recibes sufrimiento, y algo anda extremadamente mal si lo aceptas como bueno y válido; por algo el amor es amor y el odio, odio, a veces suceden hechos aislados, que nadie es perfecto, pero un día te quiero junto a mi y al otro no, un día te quiero hablar y al otro no, un día es dulce y al otro ni te habla…(entre otras 50mil cosas que mom has said), algo está pasando”;

Even though “it takes courage to be gentle and kind”, if you don’t have that in your relationship, move on;
Getting to know someone, by all means requires certain amount of those qualities, amongst many other, and it’s not a roller-coaster that comes and goes, oblivious, it also takes courage to say “I’m sorry” or simply acknowledge when you’ve done wrong, and for the record, if someone you believe cares about you is unable to do so, then you’re believing wrong.

And so for having anonymous and rapid conversations with friends you haven’t seen in a while, even if it is for less than 15 minutes in a crowded place, rain outside, and intense live music in the background, is worth every lustful, sick, depraved, nasty-look thrown your way…
That’s what some do, talk, and sadly for some, that’s a problem.

So here’s to all those who refuse to: suffer in silence, go to bed angry, misunderstood, ashamed, or insulted, hurt and taken for granted.

Being hurt shouldn’t be a reason of shame, or play de pride card, au contraire, the only person who should feel rightfully ashamed is the one who has done you wrong.

Here’s to human beings, still human.

Besos.

a.b.v.n.

Ps: there are people who say what they really mean, always search for those.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

as if I cared, if I cared... ♫

Monday, February 16, 2009

y hablando de cosas del ayer no tan lejano.. había olvidado como me FASCINA está canción... ta' cooooooooooooooooooollllll que nunca lo he negado, pero no sé, pero esta, pretty lush, lovebites and razorlines, como que las puse en la lista del olvido porque hace siglossssssssssssssssssssssss que no las escuchaba y hoy me levanté cantándolas, y dije: barbarooo que me llevo esto al trabajo o si o si!

Andy ....con todo mi corazón carajo, porque NADIE me acuerda a GJ como tu, la única persona con la que me he sentado, SENTADO, a cantar estas vainas...bueno y creo que con Nadine once, pero o sea eso es typical situation.., andy andyyy ..pa' ti, cheers for that shitttttttttt!!!

que viene la cúspideeeee!!!:

Just when it's perfect It's finite, he calls it she said "it's over, it's over..so long"
Just when it's perfect It's finite, he calls it she said "it's over, it's over. so long"

i'mmmmmmm soberrrrrrrrrrrrr sooooooooooooooooooooooooo fuckinggggggggggggg longggggggggg!!!!
...he would stay forever just to say he saw you leave and maybe things wouldn't be this way..
he would stay forever just to say he saw you on your knees.

I burnedddddd the lamp
when i burn when i do, I do... everything i do for you.
but SHEEEE hates you, hates you and i guess it's nothing new for UUUU!

tateeee quietooooooo que por ahí viene "el cerito de orooooo"

y eso ...que ...e' mah...
hit it!


There's a woman sitting in a motel room,
Counting minutes, seconds,
Adding to her list of "one hour loves."
She's tired and the new will do,
She'll replace the body,
his friends are good for "bang-bang!"
An amiable hobby.
She's got a secret.
Just keep it and sleep with it.
And he can't believe a thing you've said.
"We're going nowhere."
"Fair is fair."
And he can't believe a damn thing you've said.
"We're going nowhere."
"Fair is fair."

The way you play with lives is such a big disguise we swear that we're not gonna take it.
(I don't.)
The way you play with lives is such a big disguise we swear we're not running naked.

There's a man whose sitting in a motel,
Waiting for a hooker that he never applied for...
Is it even her?
And he can't believe a damn thing you've said.
"We're going nowhere."
And "Fair is fair."

The way you play with lives is such a big disguise we swear that we're not gonna' take it no more.
The way you fucked his life is such a big disguise I swear, we're not running naked.

Just when it's perfect It's finite, he calls it she said "it's over, it's over..so long"
Just when it's perfect It's finite, he calls it she said "it's over, it's over....so long"

The way you play with lives
Is such a big disguise
We swear that,
I'm sober.
It's over, it's over.
The way you fucked his life,
Is such a big disguise,
We swear... we're not running naked.

He would stay forever just to say he saw you leave,
And maybe things wouldn't be this way.
He would stay forever just to say he saw you on your knees.

I burn the lamp, when I burn, when I do I do everything I do for you But he hates you, hates you And I guess it's nothing new for you


Gassjaw.-

Sunday, February 15, 2009

del 2003

como quien no quiere la cosa, me he topado con algo que postié en el 2003 en mi "journal" de mi cuenta de songmeanings.

not simple
by isobel at 2003-05-02 01:04:58
what i did was what i had to..
but i get colder as i walk behind u
what i said was what i had to..
but its my gun and its my trigger
yet im not the one with my finger on it
i did what i had to..
but id dare to take it back
then again..i'll walk away..
at my best..always..cuz im safe there
we ran naked at nightime..
but its the silk that cuts me right in..
all dressed up..and clean..
i wish i could wear that on..cuz im cold and holdin a gun..
but its ur finger on the trigger..and its my blood in ur silk clothes..

a.b.v.n

And surely that ain't right...and surely that ain't right..

Hace quince años hubiese tenido sentido, si le hubiese conocido,
desde entonces y desde antes tendría sentido,
pero es de menos tiempo, unos diez, que siento una debilidad,
de la cabeza al último nervio que piso sin darle crédito.

a.b.v.n.




Ohh, can't anybody see
We've got a war to fight
Never found our way
Regardless of what they say

How can it feel, this wrong
From this moment
How can it feel, this wrong

Storm.. in the morning light
I feel
No more can I say
Frozen to myself

I got nobody on my side
And surely that ain't right
And surely that ain't right

Ohh, can't anybody see
We've got a war to fight
Never found our way
Regardless of what they say

How can it feel, this wrong
From this moment
How can it feel, this wrong

How can it feel, this wrong
This moment
How can it feel, this wrong

Ohh, can't anybody see
We've got a war to fight
Never found our way
Regardless of what they say

How can it feel, this wrong
From this moment
How can it feel, this wrong

P.
Sobre las descargas.

In conversation with friends who sometimes act like enemies to each-other
(for the lovers)


Inspirada en hechos reales [;)]

Piensa que estas con esa persona porque te ha gustado desde el momento en que le has conocido, y sí, son muchas las cosas que probablemente te saquen de quicio, pero eso “es parte del evento” como diría uno de nuestros tantos profesores, entonces por qué pedirle que niegue su pasado?

Perfecto, no te gusta que (y en este caso particular dado el boom de vida social llevada a través del Cyber-space) tu pareja tenga fotos en su “Facebook” con su ex, ok, que si te da un poco de celos etc., sin embargo hay que aceptar que esa persona ha sido parte de su vida por lo que querer “borrarle” / sacarle de su vida, es un desatino.

Es como querer cambiar el tipo de persona con la que estas, es un no-no.

No es lo mismo que “X” haga o deje de hacer cosas, que…bueno, para ponerlo en términos simples te “desagradan”, pero de ahí a armar un chi-qui-show de novela MEXICANA (abusadora!), por lo anteriormente expuesto, ya eso es otra cosa, supéralo, su ex, es su ex, y si le interesara, ya hubiese vuelto con ella (….y se lo que podrías alegar y te PROHÍBO expresarte –en violación a tu derecho Constitucional, lo sé, pero no me importa, ….hazte de cuentas que soy Hipólito Mejía o el Cardenal, y ya,…prosigo..), es una insensatez, apegarte a celos improcedentes para hacer demandas injustificadas.

Y sí, te doy toda la razón, es desagradable ver a quien quieres todo amoroso etc., con la ex, yo me comería las uñas, a lo menos!, ( gracias a Dios no tengo FACEBOOK jaajaj…eso limita las probabilidades de berrinches impulsados por los traicioneros e irracionales celos), además, si tanto te mortifica no veas las famosas fotos y ya, y bueno eventualmente, cuando EL así lo decida, probablemente las removerá, de una manera que tampoco hiera a su ex, porque aceptémoslo, si fueses tu o yo o cualquier mujer, del otro lado de la ecuación, sería …bueno, muy fuerte que nos “saquen del aire” de tal forma.

Al final, somos mujeres, y si no cuidamos nuestros sentimientos, quién lo hará?..
La consideración tiene que darse desde este lado, y así en un futuro, quizás sean más los hombres que cuiden de los sentimientos de todas nosotras, mujeres.

Como no te da la gana de hablar, pues te lo escribo en esta carta abierta.

A todas, que no es la primera vez que me veo metida en un lío de “faldas” por este mismito tipo de cosas, ya está bueno de dramas, sobre todo por pendejadas.

Ps: en respuesta a tu 1era pregunta: no tengo ni remota idea de cómo reaccionaría ante tal situación, pero se de otras situaciones, y, en el caso de la especie ya estoy que solo me hago la loca, no discuto por nada, ni cuestiono nada, ni “demando” absolutamente nada, ni siquiera atención o palabras afectuosas, …porque la última vez que revisé: el que habla solo está loco y el que siente solo es un ingenuo.
Si no hay interés, deja de importar, y cuando vienes a ver te sale el afecto sin sentimiento, con fluidez inconsistente y te deja de importar un coño que no haya reciprocidad, ni siquiera en un gesto amable o palabras tiernas, y eso pasa cuando te cierran la puerta en la cara con la palabra en la boca, (eso HARTA, deberías saberlo ya, antes de que sea tarde) y no creo que quieras que eso le pase a él contigo, por eso es que la gente tiene que hablar y no trancarse y salir huyendo, silence is violence, babe recuerda eso, así bien a lo Aimee A., …hecha tu pleito cuando sea necesario, porque la indiferencia destruye hasta la intención más noble.
Y la otra: no es que ceda el orgullo, ni aguantes, ni menos aún que adoras a alguien si eres capaz de aguantar tanta MIERDA, es que simplemente no hay absolutamente nada que perder, entonces ya se termina tratando suavemente y con extrema dulzura sin importar todo lo que haga o deje de hacer, con la única diferencia de que es más para evitar conflicto alguno que porque sientas lo que digas o lo que haces.

Y bueno, espero que me tomes la palabra, se que sabes que siento cada palabra escrita muy profundamente, no cometas el mismo error que tanta gente comete, porque sinceramente, no lo vale. Y me atrevo a decirlo: quisiera yo el objeto de tu rabia “el habla sin tener que ponerle una cuchara en la boca, y su afecto fluye como río desbordado”, y siendo tu amiga te digo que es la primera vez que en un pleito pendejo como este el hombre tiene la razón, …no puedo apoyar tu indiferencia.

Habiendo escrito esto, te mando un beso y abrazo, traficando un poco de sensatez en el envío: P

Y que si bien es cierto lo dicho por Rubén D., que no es muy dulce la palabra.. vale aclarar que no lo es solamente porque primero vinieron las lágrimas que alborotan el alma y el corazón, luego la tempestad de los nervios, la risa nerviosa de la negación que termina en el gemido de la desesperación..de la exasperación, apuesto, viene entonces la rabia y luego la indiferencia, y fue luego de todo ello que vino la palabra y el maltrato, y es que por la boca encontró salida el cerebro, le sacaron, entonces, espinas a las flores de sus versos …
La amargura se hizo presente porque las palabras vinieron a dar el remate, …llegaron tarde.

a.b.v.n.


¿QUE POR QUÉ ASÍ? NO ES MUY DULCE...

¿Que por qué así? No es muy dulce
la palabra, lo confieso.
Mas, de esa extraña amargura
la explicación está en esto:
después de llorar mis lágrimas
ásperas como el ajenjo,
me alborotó el corazón
la tempestad de mis nervios.
Siguió la risa al gemido,
y a la iracundia el bostezo,
y a la palabra el insulto,
y a la mirada el incendio;
por la puerta de la boca
lanzó su llama el cerebro,
y en aquella noche oscura
y en aquel fondo tan negro,
con la tempestad del alma
relampagueó el pensamiento
y les salieron espinas
a las flores de mis versos.

R. Darío

Saturday, February 14, 2009

calladamente....

En Silencio

Así, calladamente
sin grandes estridencias
dejaré de quererte
casi sin darte cuenta.

Dejaré de sentirme
muñeca, entre tus brazos,
dejaré de temblar
por tus caricias nuevas.

Y así... pausadamente
como llega la noche
aún estando a tu lado
comenzaré a estar muerta.

CARMEN SÁNCHEZ IBÁÑEZ

( 1936 )

With your triumphs and your charms While they are in each other's arms...

Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
And as I climb into an empty bed
Oh well,
Enough said...

I know it's over
- still I cling -
I don't know where else I can go
Over ...

Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
See, the sea wants to take me
The knife wants to slit me
Do you think you can help me?
Sad veiled bride, please be happy
Handsome groom, give her room....
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
(Though she needs you
More than she loves you)

And I know it's over
- still I cling -

I don't know where else I can go
Over and over..

I know it's over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
And you even spoke to me, and said:
"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you're so clever
why are you on your own tonight?
and If you are so very entertaining
why are you on your own tonight?
and If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight?
I know ...
'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they are in each other's arms..."

It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Over, over, over...

It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes guts to be gentle and kind
Over, over..

Love is Natural and Real,
But not for you, my love,
Not tonight, my love

Love is Natural and Real
But not for such as you and I, my love
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh,
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh, Oh,
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head..


Morrissey/J.Marr
As performed by Jeff Buckley
Originally performed by The Smiths

Friday, February 13, 2009

Ella descubrió
que hay paraísos en el callejón
no se aguantaba el cariño
y él correspondió,
cantándole las serenatas que hablan
de cosas que faltan.

De cosas por hacer
canciones con perdón,
de amor,
pero antes del amanecer
la calma se rompió.

En la ventana estaban tres...
tres,
ella, la luna y un tipo "grandón"
que le despeinaba las alas,
no me va a creer.. diciéndole
que "el bronceado de luna…
es lo que te delata.."

¿Has visto alguna vez
a una mujer herida y sin Dios?
arranca el grito de lo más profundo de su dolor

Puede que me des
el trago más amargo de tu copa de adiós
pero llévate tu lástima de mi callejón,
porque al olvido invito yo.

Puede,
puede que me des
el trago más amargo de tu copa de adiós
pero llévate lejos tu lástima de mi callejón,
porque al olvido invito yo,
al olvido, olvídalo
al olvido invito yo.

Pero pa’ contarlo bien,
hay un borracho que vive en la barra de un bar -en la esquina-
y por un trago te canta:
-a mi parecer
siguen haciendo muy anchas
las pinches ventanas-

Y a la hora que se fue
quedó en silencio el callejón
y sobre el muro le pinté:

Puede que me des
el trago más amargo de tu copa de adiós
pero llévate tu lástima de mi callejón,
porque al olvido invito yo.

Puede, puede que me des
el trago más amargo de tu copa de adiós
pero llévate tu lástima, tus reproches
y tu maldito adiós
porque al olvido invito yo
al olvido, olvídalo
al olvido invito yo.

A. Sanz

("Al Olvido Invito Yo"; No Es Lo Mismo, 2003)

Thursday, February 12, 2009

un abanico de mano por favor, o' no, hasta un folder si es necesario...es fresco lo que necesito!!

La escena más sensual, S.E.N.S.U.A.L. es más, SEXUAL, sin que nadie se quitase la ropa está en Laurel Canyon, sin duda alguna!


Y es que le ha dado un nuevo significado al término "tensión sexual", ...le ha llevado a otro nivel...otro nivel.

a.b.v.n.

como si fuese ayer.-

De igual forma, mantengo mi posición: muchos mitos y una que otra realidad.

a.b.v.n.


---------------- Bulletin Message -----------------
From: JENNY
Date: Feb 13, 2007 7:58 AM


Subject 60 things girls dont know.?`

Guys hate sluts even though they have sex with them!
(oh yeah..you're not "popular" if you've slept with more than 5 guys..you're a HOE)

--"Hey, are you busy?" or "Are you doing something?" ~ two phrases guys open with to stop from stammering on the phone.

--Guys may be flirting around all day but before they go to sleep, they always think about the girl they truly care about.

--Before they call, guys try to plan out a little about what they're gonna say so there aren't awkward pauses, but once he's on the phone he forgets it all and makes it up as he goes.

--Guys go crazy over a girl's smile.

--Guys will do anything just to get you to notice him.

--Guys hate it when you talk about your ex-boyfriend or ex love-interest. Unless they're goin for the let her complain to you and have her realize how wonderful you are method

--A guy who likes you wants to be the only guy you talk to.

--Boyfriends need to be reassured often that they're still loved.

--Don't talk about your guy friends to your boyfriend.

--Guys get jealous easily.

--Guys are more emotional than they'd like people to think.

--Giving a guy a hanging message like "You know what?!..uh...nevermind.." would make him jump to a conclusion that is far from what you are thinking. And he'll assume he did something wrong and he'll obsess about it trying to figure it out.

--Guys are good flatterers when courting but they usually stammer when they talk to a girl they really like.

--Girls are guys' weaknesses.

--Guys are very open about themselves.

--It's good to test a guy first before you trust him. But don't let him wait too long.

--Your best friend, whom your boyfriend seeks help from about his problems with you may end up being admired by your boyfriend.

--If a guy tells you about his problems, he just needs someone to listen to him. You don't need to give advice.

--A usual act that proves that the guy likes you is when he teases you.

--Guys love you more than you love them if they are serious in your relationships.

--Guys will brag about anything.

--Guys use words like hot or cute to describe girls. We rarely use beautiful. If a guy uses that, he likes you a whole hell of a lot.

--Guys think WAY too much. One small thing a girl does, even if she doesn't notice it can make the guy think about it for hours, trying to figure out what it meant.

--Guys seek for advice from girls not other guys. Because most guys think alike, so if one guy's confused, then we're all confused.

--Any guy could write out a rulebook or advice book for flirting, but no guy can write out a book about relationships.

--Try to be as straightforward as possible.

--A guy has to experience rejection, because if he's too-good-never-been-busted
, never been in love and hurt, he won't be mature and grown up.

--If the guy does something stupid in front of the girl, he will think about it for the next couple days or until the next time he spends time with the girl.

--No matter how much guys talk about asses and boobs, personality is key.

--Guys learn from experience not from the romance books that girls read and take as their basis of experience.

--Guys worry about the thin line between being compassionate and being whipped.

--If a guy looks unusually calm and laid back, he's probably faking it and is spazzing inside.

--When a guy says he is going crazy about the girl, he really is. Guys rarely say that.

--When a guy asks you to leave him alone, he's just actually saying, "Please come and listen to me."

--Guys don't really have final decisions.

--If a guy starts to talk seriously, listen to him. It doesn't happen that often, so when it does, you know something's up.

--If your best guy friend seems to avoid you or is never around when you're with your boyfriend, he's probably jealous and likes you.

--When a guy looks at you for longer than a second, he's definitely thinking something.

--Guys like femininity not feebleness.

--Guys don't like girls who punch harder than they do.

--A guy has more problems than you can see with your naked eyes.

--Don't be a snob. Guys can be intimidated and give up easily.

--Everything in moderation. Put on makeup, wear perfume. Just not too much.

--Guys talk about girls more than girls talk about guys.

--Guys hate rejection, but they hate being led on even more.

--Guys really think that girls are strange and have unpredictable decisions and are MAD confusing but somehow are drawn even more to them.

--A guy would give his left nut to be able to read a girl's mind for a day.

--No guy can handle all his problems on his own. He's just too stubborn to admit it.

--Not all guys are assholes. Just because ONE is a jackass doesnt mean he represents ALL of us.

--We don't like girls who are too skinny.

--We love it when girls talk about their boobs.

--Always make sure you know what kind of stuff your getting into before making out with a guy ...like wheather it's a one time deal or not ....

--Believe it or not shy guys are the most easiest to talk to..it may not seem right but trust me they will start opening up like books after you just ask them questions about their lives and unoticable tell them about yours...

--When a guy hits your butt it means that he wants you sexually

--Even if they refuse it all guys are ticklish on the ribs.

--Guys love neck rubs and if he lets you keep doing it ..it means that he really likes you or his neck really hurts...

--Guys will test the waters to see how far they can get with you. Even if he doesn't intend to it will happen. Know how far it is you want to let him go and he will respect that...after you let him know a couple times.

--When a guy sacrifices his sleep and health just to be with you, he really likes you and wants to be with you as much as possible.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Poema de tus manos

Tus manos son dos nardos que mi boca
ensortija de besos. en tus manos,
transformose el manojo de mis penas
en manojos de cantos.

Cuando acarician mi cabeza negra
hay en mi frente pensamientos blancos.

Surgieron en el mar de mi agonía
y se tendieron a mi sueño náufrago.

Y no son manos consteladas -iris
de zafiros, diamantes y topacios-:
son manos que adornaron las virtudes
con las ásperas joyas del trabajo.

J. ORTA RUIZ

(1922)

Este martes, mañana miércoles.-

Enojos remachados cansan la inmediatez del despojo,

que la caricia ungida, me ha dolido;

penetrante tal que mis uñas desistieron prosperar,

como la humedad de mis labios,

que se abren sin ser botones de rosas, rojas, ni rosas rosas;


Cólera,

constante, cabalga junto a las manos delatadas,

hubiese hurgado mi nariz mejor,

un agravio de menores latitudes; tocando algo mío,

lo que sea, es mío;

que me pesa el cuerpo propio y el ajeno,

al arrastrar cadáver extranjero,

ajeno.


a.b.v.n.
Erótica.-


Cayó sobre tu espalda
la llama de tu pelo,
y quemó la blancura
su ondulación de fuego.

Entre los áureos rizos,
por el amor deshechos,
yo vi calientes, húmedos,
brillar tus ojos negros.

Sin desmayar, erguidos,
redondos, duros, tersos,
temblaron los montones
de nieve de tus pechos.

Y de amor encendida,
estremecido el cuerpo,
con amorosa savia
sus rosas florecieron.

El clavel de tus labios
brindaba miel de besos,
y fue mi boca ardiente
abeja de sus pétalos.

De la crujiente seda,
que resbalara al suelo,
emergió su blancura
tu contorno supremo.

Y al impulso movido
de ardoroso deseo,
se cimbró entre mis brazos
y quedó prisionero.

Me abrasaban tus ojos.
Me quemaba tu aliento.
Y apagó las palabras
el rumor de tus besos.

E. DE MESA

(1928)

"mi cielo" SUCKS!

lunes, agosto 14, 2006

Whenever i hear the whole: "everyone has a soul mate, made in heaven, keep looking honey"...
Estado de ánimo actual: cínico/a

1st of all i'm not looking for it, 2nd, if u're not one of my female friends, don't honey me, don't call me "mi vida", "mi amor" "mi cielo" etc, i hate all that stuff, i only take "mi amor" when its being said in a funny way..

The thing is i can't even find a decent pair of socks!!, why? cuz' im not looking..i just open a drawer, and if its not there, then i'll use sandals instead.., so why people think we're all looking for the soul mate?
and if we were....

I can't help to wonder: does that mean that there's only ONE person, emphasis "ONLY ONE", for each of us ?.. how can that be??
is that even mathematically a proportional chance?
aren't there more women than men?
So, one soul mate per person, it's not even a real chance, unless 50f female population go on each other or something .. am I being negative? or just plain realistic?

Okay, lets say there is ONE person for each one of us, you know the so called "perfect" one, the one who "complete you .... make you a better woman/man" fine, but that soul mate, living his/her life, probably just a continent away from you, and who we must keep on looking, cuz' they're out there, somewhere, WHERE SHOULD WE START LOOKING?? and SHOULD WE? honestly, cuz' if it's meant to be, considering they're our soul mates, doesn't that mean we'll get together at some point, without the compulsive-non-effective effort of spending A LOT of money on airplane tickets and hotel rooms?
how do we know they're the one?
Is it something about their scent? the perfect look we only dream of, the personality that glows or the fact your parents love him/her more than what they ever loved you?

And then again, where do we start looking??
what if your soul mate lives in London or Madrid or Belo Horizonte? yet you don't know that, not to mention they don't either, nor the fact that you are "meant to be", how would you possibly get together?..

So millions and millions of people out there, but there's only one soul mate? is it selfish to ask for more than one? or is it normal to believe maybe a soul mate today wont be in 5 years or less .. or more?
so that's it? you have it, then you lose it, and with it you lose every hope that you'll have that again, cuz' there's only ONE? is it that complicated??

Are we condemned to wait?? or to give up??
passive comfortable people, or just crazy boy/girl scouts?
Either way it's a tragedy, not to find it, .. as well as finding it, to lose it, and then learn that was it, you messed up, now you'll never have it again, cuz' it was just one and there's a "no return nor reimbursements policy" written all over our love life.

But like Wilde said "behind every beautiful thing lies a tragedy.."

a.b.v.n.

lunes, septiembre 18, 2006 .- a.b.v.n.

lunes, septiembre 18, 2006

If someone did a number on you..

A little number.

Inspired by a friend I'm having a conversation right now (you know who you are)

As I asked him, "why don't you just jump?", while speaking about his current relationship, something inside me felt wrong and insincere, I've never jumped in my life, sounding like a complete emotionally mutilated person, I'm not, pretty much the other way around.

As kids when we get hurt while doing something we liked to do, we'll probably don't do it again, scare of cutting our knees, hands or face, who knows?, A car almost hit me while I was roller skating, I was maybe 8 years old, I got seriously hurt as I jumped to the other side of the street, scared and alone I got myself home with blood all over my face, I was bleeding like hell and I had no idea where was the blood coming from, but it was near my nose, … people staring, trying to help me, and all I could say, I could barely say it actually, was "I don't talk to strangers"..
(Parents should teach their kids, that rule does not apply when you're bleeding out)

It was hard enough to get the roller skates out of my feet, considering I had to keep one of my hands on my face, I got to my house, my mom was shocked, terrified and in absolute panic, rushed me to the bathroom and all I could see was blood going down everywhere, I felt dizzy and tired, ..Don't remember how we got there, or how long it took, I was at the emergency room, I was sedated, now that I think about it, they should have sedated my mom instead, she needed it the most, I saw the iodine (didn't even knew what the "substance" was) coming right to my face, and then the most terrifying thing a little kid can appreciate, I was getting stitches, IN MY FACE!!!

As you can imagine, I've never roller skate ever since. That's what it takes for people to stop jumping, for people to stop putting on the roller skates, for people to stop the jump they so desperately want to do right on top of love and relationships.
Once you get hurt, and bleed, you just don't want to experience it again…

Probably the horrible scar you were left with is a constant reminder of how much you don't want to be in that place once more, we become cynical, and there are no expectations on love, the sad thing is, we're losing on so much, and there's probably the most beautiful thing outside our door, but we're just too fucking afraid to open up and find it's that old collector,… to remind us why we shouldn't open the entrance.

I'm not going to advice anyone to open any door, if I were you, I would keep it closed up, locked if necessary, open when it's safe to do so, because sometimes rushing things, hurts other people, which is selfish and unwise. Why would you like to become some else's collector? Just because you can? Maybe because if someone's your collector, you should be one as well?

Is it true everyone, deep inside, wants to jump? Is it possible we try to believe that, to feel better about our positivism, and existence? But it gets to a point where we only do so, when we can see, clearly, there's a safety net below, waiting for us, to catch us?

Better not to jump at all, if it means being calculated, I can't see a good reason why love should be premeditated, planned and arranged. Isn't the main reason to do extreme sports/games, the rush and uncertainty of its experience?

Play it safe? Or don't play?
If I had to choose between, I'll sit on the bench for awhile, until I'm ready to play, after all, injuries we get while playing the game, heal, eventually, so why push it? When we know, by pressing on, it might get worse, and that knee may never heal.
Yet don't sit there forever, I know I'll someday get on those roller skates again.

Don't play the sport just because you can, but because you really want to and you just "love" to do so.

the best oral sex.-

Photobucket



jajajajajaajajajajajajaja....
for all time's sake back in myspace.-

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed, And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. -

"Con poca frecuencia, pero allí resta, la inquietud de esa certeza acosa mil de mis pedazos, solo mil, siempre siendo cierto, la gran lástima".- a.b.v.n.


Mad Girl's Love Song

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

S. Plath

Touching & sucking. -

Medusa


Off that land-spit of stony mouth-plugs,
Eyes rolled by white sticks,
Ears cupping the sea's incoherences,
You house your unnerving head-God-ball,
Lens of mercies,

Your stooges
Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow,
Pushing by like hearts,
Red stigmata at the very center,
Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of departure,

Dragging their Jesus hair.
Did I escape, I wonder?
My mind winds to you
Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable,
Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous repair.

In any case, you are always there,
Tremulous breath at the end of my line,
Curve of water up-leaping
To my water rod, dazzling and grateful,
Touching and sucking.

I didn't call you.
I didn't call you at all.
Nevertheless, nevertheless
You steamed to me over the sea,
Fat and red, a placenta

Paralyzing the kicking lovers.
Cobra light
Squeezing the breath from blood bells
Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath,
Dead and moneyless,

Overexposed, like an X-ray.
Who do you think you are?
A Communion wafer? Bluberry Mary?
I shall take no bite of your body,
Bottle in which I live,

Ghastly Vatican.
I am sick to death of hot salt.
Green as eunuchs, your wishes
Hiss at my sins.
Off, off, eely tentacle!

There is nothing between us.

S. Plath

SUEÑO PARA EL INVIERNO
a ella...


En el invierno viajaremos en un vagón de tren
con asientos azules.
Seremos felices.
Habrá un nido de besos
oculto en los rincones.

Cerrarán sus ojos para no ver los gestos
en las últimas sombras,esos monstruos huidizos, multitudes oscuras
de demonios y lobos.

Y luego en tu mejilla sentirás un rasguño...un beso muy pequeño como una araña suave
correrá por tu cuello...
Y me dirás: «¡búscala!», reclinando tu cara-y tardaremos mucho en hallar esa araña,
por demás indiscreta.

A. Rimbaud

Monday, February 09, 2009

antes de dormir, por su inconstancia.-

Suaves texturas,

y esos gestos perfumados,

huele a madera,

con palabras que endulzan escabeche,

endulza escabeche.



Manos de seda, besos de algodón,

fresa,

y cereza;

postrado en la antesala de todo,

su rostro abanado,

sin saberles,

cualesquiera,

..que quiera, los que quiera,

momento y espacio,

que duerman, sea en hilos que arden, sea en mármol;



Sabores sonoros,

con el tacto delicado de un escriba, toca el piano,

un arpa;

suenan ukelele,

a conga, y cueros,

con el triangulo de sus dedos,

toca un arpa convertida en guitarra,

pasada,

acérrimamente,

dije, ukelele.



Olores sonoros,

en su sinceridad confunde cerezas con limones,

en su estupidez

el rastrillo arduo en la faena diaria,

irrumpe lento,

irrumpe.



Pequeñeces,

con metros, y kilómetros,

espacios llanos,

del desánimo y plantón,

arruina cosechas maduradas,

pavimentando inconstancia sincera.



distancias con texturas,

sus manos callosas con delicadeza apuran el rastrillo prosaico,

bajo la intención desacertada de crecer afecto en lo árido;

Lana,

roza lana,

bártulos escritos, balbuceados,

cambias como color del sol durante el verano de campo,

allí donde corre sangre de toros y aves salvajes,

sangre de hombres reales;



que el terciopelo de su barba,

le haga feliz,

que al calentarle hasta los huesos,

desnudo todo es perfecto;

y en los espacios que no son de día o de noche,

un descuido,

entonces son limones que muerde con ansias de fresas, cerezas;

que el terciopelo de su barba le llene de pasión,

fascinado,

en los espacios que desconozco, camina con rastrillo en mano.



cualquiera,

veranea,

asediada,

y la libertad sin el agrio,

canícula largo, denso,

sabores que entibian el cuerpo,

llenos, jugosos,

en un mordisco.


a.b.v.n.

Sunday, February 08, 2009

for my daughter, so she knows I think about her many years before.- a.b.v.n.

A Prayer for my Daughter.-


Once more the storm is howling, and half hid

Under this cradle-hood and coverlid

My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle

But Gregory's wood and one bare hill

Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind,

Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;

And for an hour I have walked and prayed

Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.


I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour

And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,

And under the arches of the bridge, and scream

In the elms above the flooded stream;

Imagining in excited reverie

That the future years had come,

Dancing to a frenzied drum,

Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.


May she be granted beauty and yet not

Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,

Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,

Being made beautiful overmuch,

Consider beauty a sufficient end,

Lose natural kindness and maybe

The heart-revealing intimacy

That chooses right, and never find a friend.


Helen being chosen found life flat and dull

And later had much trouble from a fool,

While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray,

Being fatherless could have her way

Yet chose a bandy-leggèd smith for man.


It's certain that fine women eat

A crazy salad with their meat

Whereby the Horn of Plenty is undone.


In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;

Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned

By those that are not entirely beautiful;

Yet many, that have played the fool

For beauty's very self, has charm made wise,

And many a poor man that has roved,

Loved and thought himself beloved,

From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.


May she become a flourishing hidden tree

That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,

And have no business but dispensing round

Their magnanimities of sound,

Nor but in merriment begin a chase,

Nor but in merriment a quarrel.


O may she live like some green laurel

Rooted in one dear perpetual place.


My mind, because the minds that I have loved,

The sort of beauty that I have approved,

Prosper but little, has dried up of late,

Yet knows that to be choked with hate

May well be of all evil chances chief.


If there's no hatred in a mind

Assault and battery of the wind

Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.


An intellectual hatred is the worst,

So let her think opinions are accursed.


Have I not seen the loveliest woman born

Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn,

Because of her opinionated mind

Barter that horn and every good

By quiet natures understood

For an old bellows full of angry wind?

Considering that, all hatred driven hence,

The soul recovers radical innocence

And learns at last that it is self-delighting,

Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,

And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will;

She can, though every face should scowl

And every windy quarter howl

Or every bellows burst, be happy still.


And may her bridegroom bring her to a house

Where all's accustomed, ceremonious;

For arrogance and hatred are the wares

Peddled in the thoroughfares.


How but in custom and in ceremony

Are innocence and beauty born?

Ceremony's a name for the rich horn,

And custom for the spreading laurel tree.


W. B. Yeats

¿Quién soñó que la Belleza pasa cómo un Sueño?



¿Quién soñó que la belleza pasa como un sueño?
Por estos rojos labios, con todo su cansado orgullo,
tan tristes ya, que ninguna maravilla pueden presagiar,
Troya se nos fue con destello fúnebre y violento,
y los hijos de Usna nos han abandonado.

Desfilamos, y desfila con nosotros el mundo atareado
entre las almas de los hombres, que se despiden y ceden su puesto
como las pálidas aguas en su glacial carrera;
Bajo estrellas que pasan, espuma de los cielos,
sigue viviendo este rostro solitario.

Inclinaos, arcángeles, en vuestra sombría morada:
Antes de que existierais y antes de que ningún corazón latiera,
rendida y amable permanecía junto a su trono;
la Belleza hizo que el mundo fuera una senda de hierba
para que Ella posara sus pies errantes.

W. B. Yeats

Northern Lad.- T. Amos

Had a northern lad, well not exactly had.
He moved like the sunset, God who painted that.
First he loved my accent. How his knees could bend.
I thought we'd be okay, me and my molasses.
But I feel something is wrong? But I feel this cake just isn't done.

And don't say that you don't.
And if you could see me now, said if you could see me now.
Girls you've got to know when it's time to turn the page.
Or when you're only wet because of all the rain.
Because of... because of... all the rain, because of...


He don't show much these days, it's gets so fucking cold.
I loved his secret places but I can't go anymore.
"You change like sugar cane," says my northern lad.
I guess you go too far when pianos try to be guitars.
I feel the West in you, but I, I feel it falling apart too.


And don't say that you don't.
And if you could see me now... Said if you could see me now.
Girls you've got to know when it's time to turn the page.
Or when you're only wet because of all the rain.
Or when you're only wet because of all the rain.
Because? of, because of... of the rain, because of...
Because of... of all the rain, because? of... the... rain...

T. Amos

Crónica de una hazaña..(pasada por alto) (?).-

I wonder,

A quién besaste anoche?

We always know,

when it comes down,

it comes down to lies & denial,

a microphone,

had to lie over the lie,

so it came down,

down to lies and the cover-up,

I wonder,

A quién besaste anoche?

like a universal song,

When deceive, erased by the memory of two,

Y en el fondo de todo,

she knew

in the night of the morning, she knew;

later on

I,

Lead on,

I, by de-fault.



Y en una apuesta que no he de perder,

ha borrado el incidente,

su espera,

y del cambio atmosférico,

Season like,

Ha borrado,

aún le besa los labios.



Apuesto más,

Mi nombre inclusive,

Don’t feel the same,

Incident,

Don’t feel the same,

Other than consideration & attention,

No more than given to any other friend.





So I wonder, when,

Was it when he went M.I.A.?

He went down,

He was missed,

So I wonder, when,

Was it when he skipped that one too,

Those two,

How could I have known?

But I heard my guts roar,

as my heart bruised,

bruised and covered-up,

now my sheets are drenched.



Gut told me to.



But damn me I knew,

My gut warned me like an echo submarine.



Damn me,

I still know.


a.b.v.n.

El Inconstante.-



Los ojos se me fueron
tras de una morena que pasó.

Era de nácar negro,
era de uvas moradas,
y me azotó la sangre
con su cola de fuego.

Detrás de todas
me voy.

Pasó una clara rubia
como una planta de oro
balanceando sus dones.
Y mi boca se fue
como con una ola
descargando en su pecho
relámpagos de sangre.

Detrás de todas
me voy.

Pero a ti sin moverme,
Sin verte, tu distante,
Van mi sangre y mis besos,
morena y clara mía,
alta y pequeña mía,
ancha y delgada mía,
mi fea, mi hermosura,
hecha de todo el oro,
y de toda la plata,
hecha de todo el trigo
y de toda la tierra,
hecha de toda el agua
de las olas marinas,
hecha para mis brazos,
hecha para mis besos,
hecha para mi alma.

P. Neruda

In My Secret Life.-

I saw you this morning.
You were moving so fast.
Can't seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There's no one in sight.
And we're still making love
In My Secret Life.

I smile when I'm angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do what I have to do
To get by.
But I know what is wrong.
And I know what is right.
And I'd die for the truth
In My Secret Life.

Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I'll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of My Secret Life.

Looked through the paper.
Makes you want to cry.
Nobody cares if the people
Live or die.
And the dealer wants you thinking
That it's either black or white.
Thank G-d it's not that simple
In My Secret Life.

I bite my lip.
I buy what I'm told:
From the latest hit,
To the wisdom of old.
But I'm always alone.
And my heart is like ice.
And it's crowded and cold
In My Secret Life.

L. Cohen