Clenching your fist for the ones like us

Those who have known me for more than a week know that sometimes the chicken voices in my head become overbearing and I need to shut the world up. So there has been a big deal of silence, and there is somebody to blame. Well, actually put the blame on Mame, boys... it was not somebody but one piece of intelligent conversation I held with l'homme qui aime la BD.

See, I realised recently that whenever a person I met played the 'I like EXACTLY what you do' game, I felt annoyed, because, honestly, 'what I like' can be rather funky, and no, De Kooning is not the name of a Chinese-French restaurant. How to write this without sounding arrogant?

Well, first I gotta borrow Banier's words and say that people are my drug. I love to meet new individuals, boys, girls, gents, ladies and lady-gents. The chance to live a parallel reality through the thoughts of others creates a feeling in me that makes me go to bed smiling. And there is a trait among -specially guys- I fall for: they are passionate about something. Does not matter if it is collecting golf gloves or reading about vampires, if they have this spark of an inner world, they will for sure get to my heart.

So in other words, having a passion is quite a gift, and I do not like fake passions. I do not like it because I have done it, and the big break-through of the week is, well, I don't have to! This made me feel like putting more time on doing my photo homework than on updating Facebook (is there an 'erase backwards' button?). This society is so demanding, so stressful, so you-need-to-fit that it was about time to do it my way. And the soundtrack in this tale full of advantages is Chelsea Hotel...

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
You were famous, your heart was a legend.

You told me again you preferred handsome men
But for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
Who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,

You fixed yourself, you said, "well never mind,
We are ugly but we have the music."

-Leonard Cohen

Haven't felt this good in ages. I am not worried anymore to find someone who see "me", I know there will be as long as I keep my own eyes open and my heart in a cold, dry place.

PS: Jeez. Me diste tanto que pensar que siento que las palabras que tengo no alcanzan, así que he empezado a leer diccionarios. Tu blog de BD y tu francés chic are superb. Un par de comidas más y nos pondremos al corriente ; ). Peace man.

Harry Potter and the Marvelous Midnight Beers

Mijn liefste, ¿con que ahora quieres que te cuente más de ti? My pleasure. As I told you one day, our story is full of advantages: no conditions, no distance, one tale borning from the last.

I met Harry on my first day in town and the next fifteen were all about it. It was not "like" at first sight, but at kind of third, when he got all happy for finding last.fm and smiled at me from the door of the classroom. See, Harry has this way of winning hearts but guess he does not show his shiny inner side on purpose.

Harry was born in Berchem some twenty-something moons ago. I wonder how it was to grow up in that amazing Flemish world and then find himself in Mexico City, surrounded by tons of people a bit sick of living reality without a break. So Harry is tall and skinny, and hunches a bit to overcome the fact that the world hasn't reached his height. His hands are long and his hair is dark brown; when he smiles, and hums a song, and talks with that dutchy accent everything just becomes better. Harry tends to take care of people and is very sweet to his very sweet girlfriend. He speaks fluently at least four languages and dreams on becoming a diplomat. He is smart-funny. He loves Europe and needs to travel abroad. He is a music junkie and can sing. He likes cats and lived in Spain. He will one day do something great.

I wish however that there were more moments like Friday, when I could perceive from here how happy he was by becoming the godfather of a miracle (Harry is Catholic, but he doesn't know it). Harry likes kids and my heart melted when he wrote: 'Elliot is a cutie'. Harry himself is a kid, moody sometimes and obstinate on not to become what you are gonna be when you grow up.

Listo. En dikke kus.

Cuartoscuro

Todo empieza perdiendo los pies, las manos, la punta de la nariz, tropezando con uno mismo hasta que el sumergimiento tibio en la obscuridad termina como un beso, con los ojos abiertos y la realidad al revés.

Me da miedo que el romanticismo de estar en el cuarto obscuro (bendito útero, génesis de imágenes) se transforme un día en tranvía: anacrónico, olvidado, inútil. ¿Pero cómo no querer ser fotógrafo cuando de repente un par de ojos aparece en el papel y te miran desde el fondo acuoso, no para volverte ajolote, sino para decirte que la fotografía te busca a tí, no al revés?

Esto de tomar tus manos, hacer un cuadro y ver "más allá" provoca una especie de rush - el mundo de repente se vuelve sensible y hay tanta belleza que Sócrates enamorado, yo enamorada, qué linda banqueta, qué helado tan estético, qué uñas de mis pies tan rojas, qué bueno, qué arte, qué bien.

La foto debería ser parte de un curso de humanidad.

-Para Carlos LK.

PDA (Part 5)

Dearest Miss Porter. I thought about her while writing the blog tonight, 'coz she is a loyal reader. Now she is somewhere in Asia, living the life I am scared to live (yet for her seems so easy to make dreams come true!). She has wit and intelligence, and was really lovely when getting tipsy to fall asleep (wherever, whenever). I am sure we will meet again.

On why I don't fancy the Great Pornographer yet dig his life

One afternoon in London the shadow of an elephant with mosquito legs took me out from my (very likely) day-dreaming. Amazing Dalí - he managed to touch with his eccentricity even my 'stupid little life' (American Beauty).

I have never liked Dalí, and I so did not like him that once I bought this book about him to understand why. His paintings did not reach me although I had this poster of him right in front of my bed for at least seven years. So he was called a genius and I agree with that. I understood from his hairdresser (Lluis Llongueras) that he could look at a canvas and start painting, straight from a dream and without previous drafts. I also knew that he had no clue about the real value of money - Gala put prices on his paintings and he never paid a bill. Dalí made himself a myth with full consciousness on what he was doing. I think he never lived a simple day, he had to exceed himself constantly and had an addiction to surprise others.

So what made me think again about the Great Pornographer was this brief talk I had with Rodrigo today. Up to what extent we manage to live outside reality? Is there ever a match between dreamed worlds and reality? I think Dalí lived his dreams or made everything to make the exception a rule. I think Ana and Rodrigo are sometimes afraid to live dreams but would rather like to. I think that when my non-real, intellectual, cozy world faces the crude outside I get deceived again (about seven times per day) but then something or somebody happens and back again into this sugar rush of the new life just found.

And about Rodrigo - God bless (the Queen). Amazing guy, amazing heart, amazing things happening in his head that I never get tired to know about. New life just found, and in the actual real world... who might have thought...?

PDA (Part 4)

Gab has been in my life for many years but only until recently we found out it is great to spend Sundays watching at the ceiling, lying on the floor. She is one part of me I am very proud of.

PDA (Part 3)

This is MaPi. I met him last September and for some reason I still do not get, he immediately won my loyalty for lifetime. I could spend three days listening to what he has to say about music and beers, and gave me a reason to believe Bilbo is the greatest place on Earth.

Instant Karma

I said goodbye to Bus yesterday and my heart broke a little. I did not expect it - although I'm crazy about him despite he tells everybody how I walked home once wearing his shoes, there is always something 'normal' about waving at people... we live these lives feeling immortal and hoping all things do actually return.

What I found out later was that when I hugged him I thought - 'He is such a decent guy' and wanted to cling to that feeling of people around being actually worthy. Here is what happens - met some guys recently and after sweet-talking to me, found out they are either married, engaged, committed or have four gorgeous yet illegitimate kids. So what's the big deal? Guess it is all about how tired I got in the last months of meeting people that do not speak up or try to hide stuff. This is the biggest difference between living in Denmark and in Mexico... I spent three years getting used to know the truth and the expectations upfront, not to build a castle that might then fall into pieces.

Well, I hope I don't sound like a drama queen - I am just a bit annoyed. But the sunny side (up) is that I have very decent friends. I cannot quote anyone or anything about what 'decency' means - I can only tell my own definition: Decent people are the ones that go through life with the same face and do his/her utmost not to hurt others on the way (though not always succeeding at it). Decency means truth, honesty and a clean karma; it has nothing to do with religious/social views but to treat everybody fairly. I do not think decent people cannot have fun or take a decision that might look wrong - if he/she has a truth to follow, the force of that determination must be on the light and be so strong that most of the people around respect it.

I hope I grow up to be a decent person although by calling myself Catholic I might be on my way to hell...

Spooky

I threw a surrealistic party last night - spent half of the time sleeping and semi-listening to what the girls were saying. There was however one thing that stayed in my head: 'the mirrors are gateways to other dimensions'. I have a big mirror outside my room and it was, quoting Coco Chanel, more like an accessory/fashion statement. Now I find myself looking on the other direction when I pass by because since I came back home (yes, this messy country of mine) I became a sissy.

What is fear? Guess fear is not knowing what else is there. I am a known chicken. And will go to bed now.

What if we...?

On the airport, that airport, that very sad day, you told me that lucky Belgian guy because I had a good opinion about him. But darling, what I thought in that moment was that if I was ever to put anything about you in writing, all words wouldn't be enough. So here I am, taking back the stupid, stupid blog and wishing I can make you smile.

Cubism on Mike. Mike is a biking viking and has not yet reached thirty. Although he relates to people twice his age without difficulties, his maturity gives a lot of room for playing, laughing, speaking non-sense for hours and then go back to plan a life. Mike is always surrounded by people and has this amazing ability to take charge. He lightens up a room just by walking into it.

Mike has been in my heart since that day when he took my hand and put it in his pocket. It was snow everywhere we walked and the sky over Christiania had this white/gray colour that made difficult to know if the dim lights of the factories were close by or far away. I talked about my dreams and hopes that night, and we created a bond, James Bond.

Mike and I talked almost all days, and now once a week (stupid Ocean in between). He called me for everything and so did I, we discussed sushi and politics-we never found a way to hang up. He is so smart, yet new to the world and the bad things in life. I liked when he called with a funny idea, like storming parties or having ice-cream for lunch. I liked to cook for him and with him, and to drink champagne without a reason better than being alive. I wish him all the love, and all the good and all the sunny days possible. I wish for me not to ever lose track of him. I wish he could kiss me goodnight and wave from the staircase over and over again.

And in the end you've got a friend for lifetime...

Saadan skat. Jeg savner dig.