domingo, 29 de junio de 2008

Los cuatro gatos

Los cuatro gatos y el perro en las calles de una ciudad con smog encima pero con viento helado además. Caminan. Caminan. Copulan, fuman hierbas raras, comentan las últimas noticias tanto como comentan el blog de un amigo. En el fondo son las mismas cosas. Las mismas cosas.

On again, off again. Hipotéticamente bien, hipotéticamente mal. No hace mal destruir a veces, no hace mal querer construir. Nada, no se construye nada pero jugamos a que sí. Pero lejos de cada uno. Los cuatro gatos sin querer caminando sobre vidrios. Al lado de un precipicio. Una noche de luna. No importa, ven bien.

Los cuatro gatos

Los cuatro gatos y el perro en las calles de una ciudad con smog encima pero con viento helado además

viernes, 20 de junio de 2008

Rainy days

La preciosa lluvia, el precioso perro, las preciosas calles, el precioso camión repartidor de gas, el precioso arcoiris, el precioso auto, las preciosas ramas del precioso árbol, el precioso preciosismo, la preciosa música, el precioso almuerzo, la preciosa amistad, las preciosas amistades, el precioso frío que congela mis preciosas manos, la preciosa chaqueta, las fantásticas risas, los preciosos arreglos de preciosos notebooks, mis preciosos gatos aburridos de la preciosa lluvia, el precioso código y el precioso svn, los preciosos días de no hacer nada más que cosas entretenidas, las preciosas novedades.

miércoles, 18 de junio de 2008

Hip youngsters

The young man listening to the then all new music from bands from Seattle, yes, he wore those shirts, and he was deeply sorry when one of his idols killed himself, so they say, and many years later he went to find the music that inspired his idols, and then on and on in a chain, digging underground to find some old records.

The young man taking a guitar, he was 18 and the world was afresh, a bright morning in september, filled with that cold air and that cold breeze. Electric sounds modulated by some kind of device. Tralala.

The young man still a young man, his brother younger than him developing in some way, learning about himself. That treacherous path, that unfinished path. The young man works, but he now knows that it must not eat him. Rather, he should eat it instead.

martes, 3 de junio de 2008

I love when things fail

There was a time when we were younger, and I admit I would laugh more often than today, and we used to hang around and just laugh, just have a good laugh, and I would strum an imaginary guitar and you would just run around in the grass. Yes, those were such good times and we did enjoy them. I laugh here often anyway, in these days, and you still hang around and I would just strum my guitar every now and then.

And sometimes things tend to fail, and the jar that was on the table is broken on the floor, and my wallet is suddenly void of money, but then I laughed and now I do it too. Somehow it is different, though, but anyway it is the same.